The Universe's Mixer

Dr. Banner stepped outside, heading home for the day. He was greeted by a variety of interesting sounds. There was some laughter and quiet talk among the few students walking around on campus, some scattered screaming in the distance, and a very faint moaning coming from a few different directions. Another interesting detail was that everyone he saw was paired off. This was odd, but the Valentines' Day weekend could account for it. He sighed, thinking of Betty.

Walking further off campus he noticed he was a bit closer to the screaming. As he rounded the corner he saw a winged figure hovering in the air, raining little pink arrows on the crowd. The screaming was slowly diminishing, and people were pairing off.

Great.

If this cupid thing was another of the City's experiments, it would be even more disastrous than the zombie invasion should Hulk get involved. Certainly more upsetting, anyway. Best to keep him well away from those arrows.

Banner ducked back around the corner and made for the glow of a neon sign advertising beer. There was a little dive bar below street level, in the bottom of a brownstone building. He'd hole up in here until things blew over.

"Hi. You got any Heineken?"

(For Bella, Veronica, Dick, Bruce B, Lee, Edward and Simon)


Making the snowman had been extremely fun, and Jeannie was very pleased to have met a new friend. She genuinely liked people, and the truth was, she was more than a little lonely. While she enjoyed meeting all the people that she had since coming to this place, not one of them had really stayed. There was no one that she saw regularly. While she liked her new master, it was not at all the same as having a human master who was always there. To talk to. To serve. To love.

But when the snow became too bad, it was no longer quite as fun. It became too difficult to hold a conversation. So reluctantly, Jeannie made her good-byes and watched as Liz disappeared into the growing storm.

For a bit, Jeannie wandered through the chilled and changed landscape. Here and there, she ran into people that needed a bit of help dealing with the ever-deepening snow. All of them received aid in some fashion or other. ( Except for the last man. )

Violet Baudelaire came to realize something: the last few weeks had not been her idea of a good time and finding out she was also newely homeless only made matters worse. The youth hostel that had been her home would need major repairs before anyone could move back in so she was back at square one. The only difference this time was her actually knowing a few people that might help or at least understand her.

So after getting her things she just walked through the city in hopes of finding a place to spend the night. The only thing that was not helping besides her current state of affairs? She was ankle deep in an ear infection and could really use some meds to stop her ear from ringing. She was alone once more and anyone could see how the last few weeks had effected the young inventor. "At least I got my stuff out of the hostel before things did hit the fan" she muses while walking.

Boyd found his way through the throngs of screaming people to a quiet space. Some place away from all the blood and death and pain. Away from the zombies and all the things that he wasn't used to.

Not that he was really thinking about any of that when he did it. He just felt drawn to the place in the park that he now stood. Felt like he needed to be there. Or should be there. Or whatever the equivalent emotion a brain fried walking corpse might have, if it might be called that.

He was only alone in the park for a few minutes. Or it might have been hours. Then they started to join him. One by one. Two by two. A dozen. All like him. If he'd cared about the smell, that alone might have driven him back into the streets looking for more squirming food.

But he didn't care. And neither did any of the others, apparently. They stood, staring blankly, just as he stared blankly. Moaning occasionally. Grouping together. Huddling, almost. Being in the park as one, together.

One might say, supporting one another.

( ooc info )

It was another late night in the office. Or maybe it was day. Time was a little fuzzy in this City. It was even fuzzier to Bruce Banner, who'd had a very full week and had spent the last several hours grading papers, and whose caffeine level was starting to dip. He headed to the teachers' lounge to refill his Iron Man mug.

Now able to see the streets of the City, he was vaguely aware of motion. He pressed his face to the glass to cut down the reflections of the fluorescent lights. There were people out there - lots of them, just kind of milling around. Some kind of block party? Suddenly, someone darted down the street. The people around the woman lunged lazily at her, but she evaded their grasp. She turned a corner and ran right into a cluster of people, who proceeded to tackle her to the ground and rip her apart. Immediately, Bruce's heart was in his throat. "Oh my fuck..." was all he choked out before he felt his body start its painful transformation.

On the street, the woman stood up again, organs dangling. The zombies around her lost interest, and began milling around again. There was a sound of breaking glass, and the zombies looked around in vague confusion. One looked up just in time to see a huge form coming down on top of him. With a THUD and a squelch of dark flesh, the zombie was flattened under the Hulk's feet.

"NO EAT PEOPLE! EAT HULK FIST!"

The Hulk thrashed and stomped and ripped. Limbs and heads went flying and landed blocks away, and the ground was soon smeared dark brown and slick. But the promise of such a huge meal was irresistible to the throng of undead, and they clung to the Hulk with fingers and teeth.

Somewhere in his brain, Bruce held out hope that the Hulk's regenerative abilities would protect him from the effects of whatever agent turned these people into zombies. But to his dismay, he could feel it spreading all the faster throughout the Hulk's massive form, and soon his mind was swallowed up in darkness as well.

"HULK HUNGRY..."

Gert hadn't been to school since she'd run away from home back in Los Angeles. She didn't feel like she was missing anything; she was well read and she'd been in advanced classes. If she wanted to know something, surely she could teach herself. She knew how to use a library.

The City, it seemed, had other ideas. First, a truancy officer had come to her door, demanding to know why she'd been skipping class. They'd had words; Gert had told him exactly what she'd thought of the educational system in general (it encourages complacency and conformity; if I wanted to abdicate my ability to think, I'd watch more television) and, when that hadn't worked, she'd gotten Old Lace involved. The dinosaur was slightly more persuasive than anything she'd said, and the man quickly left after the Deinonychus had peeked around her shoulder and started growling.

So now, the 'go to class' message had gotten a little more unavoidable. She went to the corner store for some toothpaste and found herself facing the City Institute instead. A trip to the park took an extra turn or two, and yep: the Institute loomed ahead. She got onto the bus in an attempt to go home, waited the right number of stops, and then got off to see - you guessed it - the City Institute.

All roads led to high school. Gertrude was beginning to think she might possibly be in hell.

She'd finally managed to go in a direction that didn't seem to lead towards the school. Of course, she reflected, it could be a trick: the City might be letting her get a few blocks away, only to trick her and throw the hateful building at her when she least expected it. When she reached a corner, she slowed down and leaned forward to peek. Old Lace stopped a few steps back, and Gert motioned the creature towards the wall. With all the sneaking around, it was like some ridiculous spy movie. Gert was starting to get a little irritated.

Sam had pointed out the flier a day or so earlier, but the problem was, there hadn't been any dates or times on the silly thing.  Fred wasn't sure when she should go, but she supposed that it wouldn't hurt at least to look for the Community Center, not that she knew there was one in the first place, and then ask about meetings.  She was a little stuck as to which she should show up for, but eventually invention won out over creepy time.  Sure, she'd have loved to meet other people who'd met the bumps in the night, but she had a few ideas about the place and wanted some sort of input.  She needed brains.

It had taken her a good part of the afternoon, and she'd had to stop for at least one snack on the way.  She was such a pig, but the walking was helping.  After passing the Library a few times, the Hospital a few more than that, and the Police Station once, she finally came upon the Center.  Well, it seemed big enough to hold everything.  The scientist even wondered if maybe she could get a swim in, that'd work off any fat she hadn't burned off with all this walking around.

She walked in, a little surprised that there were people already there using the facilities and that there were even sign up sheets for things.  Unfortunately, she couldn't find anyone who seemed to be in charge, so she wandered around finally finding a door with a sign reading Inventors Welcome Here!  That had to be the place.  As she stepped through the door, Fred hoped she wasn't the only one who showed up.

It had only recently become aware of the concept of monster movies. In this new body, this new form, it had taken to doing some more human things. One of them had to been to visit something called a video store, rent some videos and find some place to watch them. Since it was The City itself, it just made a house with everything it needed.

One of those videos happened to be Godzilla, featuring a giant angry lizard. It sat intrigued through the whole thing and bolted to it's feet at the end, fresh with a new idea.

There would be a zoo in The City. It would collect animals to put them on display. The City didn't currently have a zoo of it's own, which was sort of sad for the children. But they'd grown up here so they didn't really have a concept of what a zoo was. They would love this.

It would get Godzilla. The monster couldn't be that big, could it? After all, it had ransacked and Japan was a small place to begin with. Just an island. Sort of like The City, only ... different. Plus it had stayed mostly in Tokyo. One city.

After Godzilla, it would get some dinosaurs maybe. A unicorn. A phoenix. Dodo birds. Things that people would know but had never seen in their lives. It would be fantastic. Everybody would be filled with wonder. They would be pleased by what The City had given them.

Retrieving Godzilla as it had everybody else, The City suddenly realized that it had not only misjudged the creature's size, but also it's intelligence and determination. The cage that had been constructed turned out to be rather flimsy.

Just as one of the lesser writers for The City Voice was receiving information about the zoo for an article, Godzilla broke loose.

( OOC )

Bruce's eyes marveled at the lush, trendy apartment atop the skyscraper. High-tech art graced the walls, throwing sci-fi shadows and lights on the walls. Water trickled down one wall into a delicate, green garden. Still, as he was currently the only occupant, it all felt somehow cold. "Sure is nice, though," Bruce said aloud.

"I am sure Mr. Stark would appreciate the complement." The British, male voice had come from everywhere at once. Bruce dropped his portfolio in surprise.

"I - I have an appointment," Bruce said in defense. "Security said I could come up."

"That is correct," the voice confirmed. "You are scheduled to meet with Mr. Stark at 2:15 pm. Mr. Stark is running late, and sends his apologies in advance."

Still looking for the source of the voice, Bruce inquired, "who are you?"

"I am Jarvis, an artificially intelligent program in charge of the internal systems in Mr. Stark's home. Would you care to learn more?"

"Maybe later. Has Dr. Jones has arrived, yet?" He had invited his colleague from the Institute, Archaeologist Henry Jones, Jr. to this meeting, and hadn't gotten a definite answer from him.

"Dr. Jones has not arrived."

Bruce gathered his papers from the floor and found a seat. If Tony knew about Bruce's condition as he had implied, he would want to appear as calm as possible. "You got any Sigur Ros on file?"

What a night.

Bruce was still a little wobbly as he made his way down the halls of the City Institute. It was too early even for the type-a students to be roaming the halls, and he relished the cold peace. The silence broken by his own footsteps on linoleum allowed him to get in the mindset of a professor again, to put away the events of last night. He wasn't suppressing them, he reminded himself, just setting them aside for now. Dr. Samson had taught him all about the dangers of suppression. It's what helped make him a monster in the first place.

Right now he was Dr. Bruce Banner, professor of nuclear physics, and he had a class to teach in forty minutes. He needed some coffee. Good old sour, sludgy break room coffee, with good old dull, faceless fellow teachers going through the motions of the day.

As he stirred the sugar (no cream) into his coffee, he spotted something out of the corner of his eye. Someone didn't belong here.

After his altercation with the red-haired woman, the Hulk bounded off to explore the city. Covering several blocks in a single, thunderous leap, he was able to reach the edge of the city in a few minutes. He looked ahead from the rooftop where he stood. There was a dark, dangerous-looking street just below him, but on the other side of this was nothing but a flat, dark grey wall. There wasn't even any graffiti to break up the monotony of the edifice. Looking up, he was quite confused to see no top. His pulse quickened. Was he trapped?

He threw his green bulk at the wall and stuck for a split second, suspended high above the street. He scratched at the flat face, trying desperately to dig his fingers and toes in before gravity claimed him, but the wall laughed a bone-chilling squeal as his nails scraped fruitlessly against it, and he plummeted to the street below. The Hulk picked himself up and grunted in frustration.

THWAMM!

His fist rang against the strange material.

THWAMM! THWAMM!

The more weight he threw at it, the less effect it seemed to have. Again and again, with more and more urgency he slammed the sheer incline, and still it did not yield. He turned around, panic now evident in his eyes, and ran in the opposite direction of the wall. Crossing the city in high bounds once more, he reached the other side in just under a minute, leaving cracked pavement and wailing car alarms in his wake.

There was another wall here.

Now he was Angry. He bellowed at the sky and began hammering once more on the grey face.

Jo wasn't sure what exactly happened to people who had amnesia and then got their memory back again. Did they go back to their jobs? Jo had to admit that maybe it was that way for her. She had no formal education in anything, except for maybe hustling people and bar tending. Growing up in a roadhouse had perhaps yielded to her some information after all. She wasn't sure what the City was up to, but after trying to find the bar where she used to work, she was forced to go job hunting again. The one thing about bars was that if you had a pretty face, chances were that they would hire you. That is, except for when the bar maid that they hired pulled out a shotgun and knew how to use it. That either made sure she stayed or made sure that she got fired.

She was on bar number three for employment before she finally found a permanent job of sorts. The owner was nearly as drunk as his patrons, and for that, Jo was grateful, especially when she could point a shotgun in his face and not get fired. It made the job interesting. The more interesting thing was that the owner's wife seemed to be running the whole operation from behind the scenes, and instantly made sure that Jo got a room in the back after she pointed the shotgun.

Cleaning off the bar after a long night of serving drinks and cleaning it, Jo wasn't surprised that quite a few people were passing by outside. The bar never officially closed, serving well into the wee hours of the morning just to make the money needed to run the place. Jo had been in plenty of bad places before, and this really wasn't so bad. Especially when the men didn't know the dollar bills that they pulled out for tips. Her weapons were safely stored in the back, and right after this, Jo was going to close up. She had to get Hunting again, it was like a beacon calling out to her.

Baseball was one of those things that normal people did, right?

Dexter had this intense need to feel normal. Even if it was just for one afternoon. Just a few hours. Away from life. Away from the police station. Away from knowing that he was some special cog in the universe of Death. Away from George, though she was his best friend. He could be himself around her, but around her, he wasn't a human being. He was Dexter. The killer. And she knew. And he knew about her. It was really really hard to feel normal when you were chatting with a reaper, no matter how cute she might be.

He'd wandered around thinking normal to himself, and what the City had provided him with was a baseball game.

He supposed he was enjoying it. As much as one could enjoy things when they were sitting outside under a hot Spring sun, watching a game that went slower than a dead snail and had no physical contact or confrontation to break up the monotony while eating six days expired hot dogs in stale buns. The hot dogs were the only things keeping him there. He'd already gotten up to get three. Now he was up to get more. And soda. He should have been drinking water, he knew. But if he was going to digest the disgusting food, he needed something sweet.

Thank whoever he'd been born and raised in Miami.

When he reached the counter, there was a little polite smile to the guy standing in the line next to his.

It was a test - some kind of elaborate behavior experiment conducted by the defense department. They wanted to see if they could get their top nuclear physicist back on the team without having to worry about the Hulk turning General Ross into Captain Crunch.

This was the only hypothesis Bruce could formulate to explain why he was sitting in an office on a school campus in a city, when just last night he was sitting in a Greyhound station, eating from a discarded bag of corn nuts. His hypothesis further supposed that the military had finally tracked him down, kidnapped him while he dozed on the bench, and placed him in some kind of idyllic environment where they could monitor how he performed under a variety of stresses. It was like that British TV show, the Prisoner, except he had his own name - the UCLA diploma on the wall read "Dr. Robert Bruce Banner, PhD., nuclear physics" - and there were no giant, menacing, white balloons to be seen.

Not yet, anyway...

Shaking his head and throwing his arms up, he sighed. "Oh well. Might as well show them what a super-scientist is good for." He gathered up his laptop - syllabus, powerpoint presentation, everything a good teacher ought to have for the first day of class - and walked in what he hoped was the direction of his classroom.

After a number of wrong turns, he finally found the room number indicated on his syllabus and stepped in. The room was a large, amphitheater-style array of predominantly empty desks. A smattering of students were in attendance. He eyed them suspiciously as he set up his laptop on the podium.

"All right," announced the professor, folding his arms, waiting for the class to act, "who wants to know the secrets of the universe?"