The Universe's Mixer

Zoe sat at the counter, waiting for her breakfast. She'd visited this diner enough times that she didn't even need to ask for anything. The coffee was served quickly, and the waitress gave a quick barking order that Zoe suspected meant two scrambled eggs, two sausage links, and three slices of toast. It was a large meal perhaps, but then the Amazon didn't usually settle again for meal until later in the evening. What did she do all day? She walked the Wall. She kept looking for a crack or a way out. Something. She kept looking for a way home.

She had the map, and while the parts moved around, she was slowly identifying what parts of the Wall she'd seen. Or she hoped she was. The damn City kept moving, so it made for a tricky situation. For three days straight, she'd looked at the same piece of Wall without realizing it until it was time to head back to the ship. She'd decided to live in Serenity for now. Maybe it was for Kaylee, even though she didn't see the young mechanic often, or maybe it was to keep some sense of herself, some sense of...sense. It was the only real place she knew and understood, so she used it as an anchor.

The warrior woman thanked the waitress and started spreading butter over a piece of toast, which would soon be followed by what the waitress claimed was homemade jelly. Boysenberry today. The other day had been snozzberry. She still hadn't figured out what a snozzberry was. To sit quietly and eat breakfast, that seemed like the ideal situation before heading back out to find a chink in the City's armor.

The yellowish envelope on his desk had his name on it. His proper name.

Indy poked it. It crunched. He looked at it, carefully, trying to see if he recognized the writing, but he didn't.

DR. HENRY JONES JR.
C/O CITY COLLEGE
DEPT. OF ARCHAEOLOGY & HISTORY
1195 EDISON ST. STE. 45
THE CITY
THE WORLD
THE UNIVERSE

"Andrea?"

The secretary didn't answer. Indy sat down at the desk and removed his glasses, ripping the envelope apart. Ah... the crunching had been caused by some plastic coating on the inside. It looked like bubbles. Full of air. He poked one. It burst with a loud pop. Indy heard a chuckle.

And as he turned toward the sound, he removed his father's diary from the envelope and cursed under his breath, quite quietly.

Sam and Dean had done their thing, and eventually Fred was dropped back at Angel Investigations; but, Fred wasn't ready to go in. She wanted to ask some questions she was pretty sure she already had the answers to. For now, those were questions that were safer to ask.

To: Professor Indiana Jones <i.jones@cityu.edu>
From: Fred Burkle <brainygirl@citynet.com>

Professor Jones,

I'm Fred Burkle. I have heard a good bit about you, and I was wondering if we could talk about an item I just recently received. I would appreciate any help you could give; let me know if you can meet.

Fred.


Fred could have taken a picture of the pendant Sam gave her, but she really wasn't sure how she could best do that without taking it off. Unfortunately taking the pendant off was not a choice, seeing as Sam had told her to never take it off. Then again, what could it mean if she did take it off? Well, she wasn't going to try to find out; she was going to do as he said, for now, until she found something else that might be better. It wasn't like she was going to go out and get a similar tattoo; she didn't think the tattoo would look all that great on her. It worked for Sam though...

The physicist stared at the computer screen; she'd more or less stolen a moment at one of the City's internet cafes. Sure, she could have gone to the Library, but if this was who she thought it was, then he'd be able to give her some information, seeing as he knew all that history stuff. Plus, she wasn't sure Wesley would like to discuss the pendant if he knew who gave it to her, but then Wesley had never been the type to put off learning new things or discovering bits of the occult. ( For now, she'd just visit with the Professor. )

Dr. Jones opened the appointment book on his desk and scratched the top of his head. He didn't want to be sitting behind his desk right now, but apparently his secretary had scheduled something for now.

His fedora sat next to him. The Grail Diary sat beside it. Indy wanted to be investigating leads. He wanted to find his father, and a way out of the City.

Barring that, he wanted to find someone who could help him. But he didn't know who that was.

The door to his office swung open, and as it did, Indy looked at the name in his book. INARA SERRA.

Indy's jaw was almost on the floor when he saw her. And he had no idea what his secretary was planning, but suddenly he wanted to kiss her for it.

Scavenger Hunt. Pair off. Each pair has to find:
- The tooth of a four fingered homeless man
- A unicorn's eyelash
- Blowfish venom
- A pocket watch
- Mittens

If Indiana Jones ever had a kid, he sort of wanted that kid to be like River Tam. Only... maybe she could be a few shades less absolutely insane.

( But the girl was holding her own. )

Hannibal sat in the park with a sketchbook on his lap, a pencil in his hand, and the newspaper at his side. He was simultaneously reading the words and sketching the face that wouldn't leave his mind. The man who had killed him and dozens of other people. Part of him wondered if the man was still out there. Possibly being hunted down by others. He wondered if he should be hunting himself, or letting the man be. There had been no further deaths which wasn't very explainable. A sudden rash of murders followed by nothing.

It smacked of the City's influence.

Another part of him was deciding if he should be concerned about this at all. After all, there were no more deaths, everybody was alive again. He wondered because his mind worked for rationalities first. Even now, after so many months here.

The drawing of the face was really a compromise between the two paths.

Reading the newspaper, Hannibal noted that there seemed to be some help groups popping up for various things. Amusing. He wondered if any of them would like some professional guidance.

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?"

It almost seemed unfair, going after him. But he put himself in danger, sought out the mysteries. There would be no treasure here, nothing to teach.

The knife wouldn't do and by gun just didn't seem proper. But it seemed that the man's own fears would be best put to use. True it might not kill him but fear and terror can often work to the advantage of the hunter going after prey.

He was being chased through the City, or shall I say herded. Careful and deliberate, sending the good Doctor to the right place, at the right time.

And as he stopped and paused, I came up close, and shoved him one last through the door and pulled it shut.

Who would have thought the reptiles at the CIty's pet store could have gotten loose so quickly. Some worse than others according to some, especially with the windows barred and the rows and rows of the anguineous reptiles just inside.

"Good bye, Dr. Jones."

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.

Tim had known right away that it wasn't Gotham. There was just a way Gotham felt, and this wasn't it. Not by half. What he didn't know was how the change had happened. He hadn't been doing anything particularly dangerous, but rappelling off a building and ending up on a street that wasn't the one that had been directly below him was...

Well, it was suspicious, to say the least. There wasn't too much information to be found without being suspicious himself, and the reaction people generally had to costumed vigilantes wasn't too awesome, in his experience. Too bad he was stuck as Robin until he found some civilian clothes somewhere. He had money on him - mostly in the form of plastic - but there was no guarantee he'd be able to use it. He wasn't really big on stealing, though, so maybe he'd just stay in the costume for awhile.

I'm sure I already passed this building.

He wondered how long he'd been awake. It had been more than twenty-four hours since he'd gotten here, as far as he could tell. His phone wasn't dialing out correctly, but the clock on it still worked just fine. At least, it ticked the hours past. That was all that mattered at the moment.

He knew he'd have to find somewhere to crash, and soon. Being out in the open wasn't exactly his idea of a good time, especially in a place he only had limited knowledge of so far. He'd have to get to a computer soon and see if email was working.

Tim turned and walked down the nearest side street; he was sure he'd been this way, so maybe if he found something familiar he'd get some kind of bearings. He stopped after a few feet, hearing footsteps come up behind him. One hand moved to his side, close enough to the collapsed bo staff in his belt to be able to defend himself if he needed to, but not anywhere particularly suspicious, then turned to face whoever was coming.

Indiana Jones was soaked to the skin. So was Elsa. But this had to work, and it had to be done, because Henry Jones was inside this castle.

When the heavy door swung open and the butler greeted them, Indy started to talk, the thick, phoney Scottish accent comical coming out of his mouth, the stupid beret sitting askew on top of his head instead of his fedora.

".... and his lovely assistant," Indy said, grabbing Elsa by the arm, "are here to view the tapestries."

Tapestries?

"This is a castle, isn't it? And you do have tapestries?"

"Yes, this is a castle. And we have many tapestries. But if you are a Scottish lord, then I am Mickey Mouse!"

Indy widened his eyes in feigned shock, turning his head to this blond sidekick. "How dare he!" he said, accent still in place, before reaching back and punching the butler in the face, laying him out flat on his back.

Focused, now, and knowing he could find his father, that he was close and everything would fall into place-- the Grail would be kept away from the Nazis, if the Jones boys had anything to say about it-- Indy ducked through a doorway, Elsa behind him, her high heels clicking on the floor.

But the other side of the doorway was not a castle hallway. It was... wrong.

This looked just like his office. At Barnett. And he was still soaked. Indy turned, puzzled, and the castle anteroom was gone entirely. So was Elsa. Elsa who was wearing his hat. As he opened his mouth to curse that fact, the fedora rolled on its brim through the open office door, stopping at his boots and settling like it knew it was home.

Indiana Jones bent to pick it up, and he threw the beret in the trash can next to his desk with a wet plop.

"Just what I needed," he said.