The Universe's Mixer

The Doctor had just had the sort of day that generally got him killed. In fact, if one were being technical, he had gotten himself killed - he was just going to have to wait for the payoff down the line. He tried not to think about it; Death was always going to have come for him in the end, and it could still be years yet. The time and place had always been in her hands - he'd only acknowledged as much. Or so he told himself; the truth was that he hadn't a complete grasp on what exactly he'd gone and done.

He also knew that Pond was in the City. He knew that there was a madman around who cared very little about the psychological trauma he inflicted upon people, nor did he seem to care much about who got hurt during his 'lessons.' He knew that he needed to seek out a 'Dean Winchester' for details.

The Doctor also knew that, no matter how much it pained him to stay in one spot, he couldn't leave. Not while this 'Trickster' was loose in the City. Not until he knew what made the City tick and how to ensure the safety of its residents. In a way, the wild goose chase that the Trickster had sent him upon had come to the desired conclusion, even if the Doctor now counted its perpetrator among his enemies.

So, reluctantly, after his 'guest' in the TARDIS had seen himself out, the Doctor set the coordinates not for places elsewhere in time and space but for a sidewalk in the heart of the City. He wanted to find Pond before she could get herself into too much trouble, and he'd have a better chance of picking her up on the sensors if he were in a central location. The TARDIS dematerialized from its spot outside the Magic Box and, with a tell-tale vrwooosh-vrwoosh, re-emerged in what was (at the moment) a spot near the geographical heart of the City. For now, that spot was just down from a cheese shop (aptly titled 'The Big Cheese') and across the street from an English style pub. It was interesting; usually the instruments were precise about the 'when' and 'where' of the TARDIS's physical location, but apparently being in the City made details scarce. He wasn't surprised. Of course the City would interfere in his ability to pinpoint things. He suspected that he wouldn't be able to trace the changing streets as they moved about, either.

The Doctor set the TARDIS to start taking readings then made his way to the doors. He needed to find a telephone book and see if he couldn't get a number for this 'Winchester' fellow.

The man who stepped out of the blue Police Call Box was not anyone Jack Harkness was likely to recognize. For one, he had the baby-face of a man still in his mid-twenties, and the previous Doctor's long coat and pinstripes were gone. Still, who else would take the time to lock the TARDIS and give her a fond pat on her side, the way you might part from an old friend?

((OOC: This is the last of my spam for today. I swear.))

Jack was dreaming.

It was warm and colourful.
And the Doctor was there, his Doctor.
So was the Master.


Was it a nightmare, he couldn't tell. It didn't feel like it, he didn't want to leave.

He was floating, flying, happy as can be.

Martha and Micky and Rose.
Canary Wharf.

Lions and Tiger and Bears, oh my.


No, not dream.
Jack was hallucinating.

He was in his cell where they kept him, experiments and drugs, tests and questions.

But no answers to be given.

Jack knew when he had first awaken that morning that things were just "not right", and not just with him. He wasn't home that was for sure and it was noisy, and oh yeah, there were bars everywhere. That was just a few of the things he noticed first. However his first thought was that he was back on Satellite 5. And he felt off a bit too. But it was a very very good way to feel off.

It was bright and shiny and Jack was easily distracted by bright and shiny. Some of the nurses and orderly's were very bright and shiny in Jack's opinion as well. They fed him nicely which he liked but they also kept him drugged which wasn't so great but it seemed he didn't have a choice. He didn't really remember when or how he got there but it had been a bit of time now, though the days seemed to run together some of the times.

Luckily he is allowed out and about and he quite liked being out amongst other and interacting with them. Jack liked people and liked being among them. No one knew when, how, or if they were going to get out but sometimes, Jack didn't care. He was feeling good.

Very very goood.

For now at least.

With the absence of the Rift, and all the backwash and problems that accompanied it, Ianto had more time to spare. Although, ironically, there had turned out to be almost as much of the weird and wonderful mysteries here as back home, especially now there was no longer UNIT to rely on 'just in case'.

Tonight, he headed into the city by foot; he was in the mood for walking, so he did. Quickly, mind you. Spend enough time chasing after creatures in the wider world which scratched and fought and pushed for their moment to spring out under the cover of darkness, then no. Spending too much time outside at night was something to avoid, up there with small enclosed spaces and solitary Weevil hunts.

In one of the less busy streets, the sign of a bar called to him. Opening the doors, the soothing, crooning notes of Sinatra drifted through the dimly-lit room, and he permitted himself a private smile at that. He turned his eyes to the main bar, where rows of bottles were eagerly anticipating someone with a spare minute to indulge in them.

After some research Susan had been able to locate a proper practice range for archery and decided since the weather was nice some practice was in order. With bow and arrow along with her quiver she looked to be a simple student but not many knew the truth, this time period was still most confusing. *Especially the way people treat each other, there is such a thing as being nice* she mused to herself as she walked. That was when she spotted the great coat passing her way, the coat being common among the RAF in her time period. "Excuse me sir!" she called to the older man,"I could not help but notice your coat, Royal Air Force by chance?" hoping he was also from her time.

Jack wasn't sure what was going on lately but it was equal parts frustrating and confusing.  Gwen and Ianto being here was definitely a very good thing but it still irked him and he had so many questions.  How did they get here?  Where was here?  Was this heaven and they were all dead, even Jack?  Had he finally figured out a way to die and stay dead without even realising it?

He sighed in frustration and looked up to see the bar in front of him.  Funny he hadn't realised he was anywhere near there.  But then again, whatwas it someone told him, the City takes you where you need to be, not necessarily where you want to go?  Or maybe it was something different but it was close to that.  He pushed open the door and stepped inside.  There weren't a lot of people there and Jack moved to the end of the bar and sat down.  He moved his great coat out of the way and leaned on his elbows as he reached for the bowl of bar nuts.

Getting the bartender's attention, he ordered a plain glass of guiness, smiling as it didn't take long to get his pint. Jack smiled and thanked the man before taking a longer than usual drink.  He turned a bit to his right so he could keep looking around, see who was actually here and if it was anyone he knew.

After recent events with Cupid Gwen was offically reeling since nothing was making much sense once more. "Just wish I could tell if what happened was a local version of the Rift or something else period" as she typed into her laptop, the Hub computer system still being worked on at the moment. But all this had triggered a couple of nasty mirgaines in the last week or so, proof in the med bottle by the computer screen. Between keyboard taps and file checking she had been nibbling on some pizza that was in the fridge from the night before. "Note to self, redo the shopping list" she made a note on a nearby pad.

"This is one of those moments I wish we had the Archives" she mused under her breath. Of course that was not knowing anyone could even hear her at the moment or could see how miserable she really was.

(After this thread)

The ardeur had stayed a quiet murmur since Spike had gone, never satisfied but never acting up. Anita was always aware of the pull, the need to feed it, but she managed to block it off. Not too healthy, but necessary since the only one to help her out with it was suddenly gone.

After being stuck in her apartment for a month during ZombieGate, which she was stilled pissed about, meeting Angel had started the ardeur waking up. He would be a great choice in both the ardeur's and Anita's eyes but she hadn't seen him since the run-in with the dead chick. Meanwhile, the ardeur was pissed that its tasty morsel had gotten away and was slowly making everyday life hard for Anita.

She was sure as hell glad her partner was a girl.

But after unleashing her necromancy powers again, just like the night she met Angel, the ardeur came out full force. She could feel it pulsing with every step home, calling to the kind of man that both she and ardeur would want to fulfill their respective needs. Anita just hoped there wouldn't be much trouble getting him, whoever he might be, out in the morning.

The wind had gotten cooler as the night wore on, and she still wasn't back at the apartment, Stupid City moving its stupid streets around stupidly. Stupid. Stupid. It was getting hard to walk, shiver and hold the ardeur back from "claiming" the nearest male for its own purposes. Anita wrapped her arms around her chest, gritting her teeth as she kept trying to get home.

After making sure Ianto was safely set in front of one of several heaters Gwen decided to go to work on a huge pot of coffee and something warm to eat, so soup sounded perfect (and goof proof). She mused to herself while chopping carrots,"The weather is just like Wales, only with more snow" having picked up a ton of supplies in case things did get worse weather wise (from coffee and supplies for soup to takeaway menus and supplies for some typical hub meals). As she worked she watched the space that leads to Jack's living space, part of her wanting to see the reaction to Ianto being with them once more. But part of her was reeling, right about then she would have heard Owen smarting off for some random reason and Tosh's keyboard clicking away a mile a minute. So as she shoved back her tears she went back to soup making. "Now all we need is that bag of noodles, chicken noodle soup and this weather just work together" she mused to herself.

She set her phone close by in case her note at the station brought in possible sources.

It had only been a few weeks since Ianto had moved into Tosh's place on the team, putting his computer and technological knowledge from Canary Warf to use. While he knew he wasn't nearly as brilliant as Tosh had been, he was doing everything that he could to bring some semblance of normalcy back to the Hub after her and Owen's deaths.

It didn't take too long before he had thrown himself into spending most of his time pushing himself harder, working to the brink of exhaustion, doing all those little essential tasks that did, in the end, help them, but nothing that he felt anyone else in Torchwood had the inclination nor need to attend to.

Keeping busy. That had always been his way of soothing himself to the point where he wouldn't have the chance to refine thoughts abandoned for lack of time to examine them. Every thought in his head, every emotion in his heart, shoved far enough aside so they would all seem to fade away, or be placed in the cushioned box of distant memory, where they could lose their bite.

It was further evidence of his unhealthy manner of dealing with grief, which had soon resulted in a predictable firming of the unemotional walls around him. But it kept him from dwelling; the Rift was still discharging all manner of weird and wonderful backwash, so most days he barely had time to breathe, let alone talk.

( This night was no different )

Jack stepped outside Torchwood and looked up.  The television report had said they were getting winter weather and they were right.   Snow was falling slow but steadily and there was a great measure of accumulation on the ground already.  He and Gwen had been busy as of late, trying to get their new 'home' set up properly.  But Jack needed a bit of a break, just to stretch his legs.

Taking a few steps forward more onto the street, just enough so that he could turn his head upwards as the snowflakes fell onto his face.  It was tangible and real and made him feel alive.  Jack needed that more than most, and even more so with the things that had happened as of late.

He had mortality but unlike anyone he knew. 

Jack sighed.  He hated having philosophical discussions with this subconscious.

Gwen had left a note for Jack that she was going to get some much needed supplies for the Hub. As she returned with several large shopping bags loaded with food, coffee and basic living supplies (due to her finding a version of Jack's bunker and a small studio by the looks) she called,"I'm back!" as she went to work on a huge pot of coffee and a typical Hub breakfast.

"All that's missing is a local version of the Weevils" she observed to herself while cooking. But the smell of eggs could be smelled all over the small kitchen as she worked and went looking for the bottle of hot sauce she had bought. But for right now something as small as cooking breakfast was doing her good.

"Now where was that hot sauce!"

You're all handcuffed together in a circle, facing outward. Handcuffs can't be broken, but there's a key taped to the ceiling. The floor below is metal grating that leads to a bottomless pit. Every two hours the grating retracts half an inch away from the wall.

Note: Hours are not real time hours

Gwen finally ventured out of where she had been holed up during the zombie mayhem and realized something: she had to link back with Jack and get more meds. But with a blinding mirgaine looming she did the one thing that made any sesne, she was going to text Jack. So slumped against the wall of the coffee shop she was still holed up in she fished for her phone and dialed before typing out a text.

Jack, its Gwen.

I'm ok but feeling like crap. Come to this address since I have a feeling this place wants Torchwood back in business and bring meds?

As Gwen hit send she only wanted to pass out and it showed. But inside was where the real darkness was, only Jack knew how miserable she really was. During the zombie madness she was facing nightmares of how Tosh and Owen died only weeks before and she just pushed her feelings back in order to keep fighting.

Gwen scribbled a note for Jack so he would not worry.

Jack,

Going to the chemist to see about getting some OTC meds at least for the short term. You know how to find me

Gwen

Grabbing her bag,cell and making sure the bottle from her last round was in hand Gwen went to hunting for a proper chemist (aka drugstore). But while most would figure simple hangover her emotions had gone into overdrive and she had not mourned for Tosh and Owen, one major cause of the recent headaches. The fact she was missing Rhys was not really helping matters either along with the ongoing puzzle of how she ended up in The City.

But she also has one other puzzle on her mind, was The Doctor the one Jack had told her and Ianto about? "Well maybe I can find some coffee and see what exactly is going on while I hunt for a chemist" as she wandered into a coffee shop.

Gwen Cooper was out like a light the moment she hit the Hub's semi ratty sofa. She had been working on needed reports to start the rebuilding of Cardiff when Ianto had almost forced her to take a nap. To be honest she was nursing another massive headache from all the stress and her unshed tears from losing Owen and Tosh only days before. Her only solace: Jack,Ianto,Martha,Andy (her former partner and still friend) and her husband of only a few months Rhys Williams(which explains the wedding ring on a chain around her neck). But when she awoke she would be on the sofa, but not in the Hub of Torchwood 3 or even Cardiff.

Gwen awoke with a still blinding headache (caused by the landing),"This has to be a dream" happy her bag was slung around her ankle (with a couple of days worth of clothes, her gun and various odds and ends) still. But she would somehow blend into The City since most would figure the otherwise pretty brunette was just hungover from a night out,dressed in slightly battered jeans and a simple black pullover. Her mission was simple: get some painkillers and find someone that knew what in the heck was going on here.

Little does she know that someone from her world is here.....

Cold. It was very, very cold. And dark. Terribly dark. For a startling moment Jeannie wondered if this was what death was. It had been confusing enough when she had been in the apartment with that yelling girl and the other dead people. But just as she had been growing accustomed to that, she had found herself here.

( Wherever this was. )

Buffy couldn't hear the unusual rhythm of plucked harps. Or, she was not consciously aware of it, as chords and notes were created similarly to a guitar. Buffy walked down a neighborhood street with white picket fences, quiet homes with lights long turned off, housing pleasant people and their pleasant dreams. She continued to walk to the beat of music, confused. A day old headline of the serial killer fluttered past the slayer and she watched it go.

"I don't know where I've been.
I can't remember what I've seen
since I left, or was between..."

"Should we go outside?
Should we go outside?"

"And Danger! Danger! Draws me near.
I think I've been here.
And Danger! Danger! Draws me near.

"Should we go outside?
Should we go outside?"

Buffy started to run. Up ahead she saw her house. She knew what The City was capable of, bringing in persons from different times. Her mother could be in there and still alive. Dawn could be there. Any of them. The harp music continued and Buffy was still wrapped in The City's song.



ooc: This is what happens when BB listens to too much Joanna Newsom. Her lyrics from "The Spout and the Bean" have been liberally abused here. But please feel free to take the song in a different direction or something. We can Moulin Rouge it. :B If you're confused as to why there's any weird singing at all, blame Doctor Horrible. >.>

The hallways of the hospital were silent and empty. Nobody roamed. Nobody even breathed. A peculiar scent wafted through on the currents of the air conditioner. Blood. From two different sources. It filled his nose and perked his senses. He found that it made him feel more alive.

It felt like forever since the last time he'd killed, when in reality, it wasn't so long ago. Moments, hours, days, weeks. None of it really mattered time wise. Every kill was in his mind, perfectly preserved so that he could visit them again at any moment. Any time he liked, he could go back and relive every second. Feel the blood on his hands again. The knife blade sinking into flesh. The screams. The struggles. That first acrid aroma of blood as it hit the air and continued to spill out.

Hannibal moved the hallways, silently, carefully. Hunting.

Maroon eyes surveyed the vast expanses, through the darkness, looking for silhouettes, for bodies. His sharp ears listening for the tell tale beating of another human heart. His own rhythm carefully toned down into background noise.

His fingers gently clutched the handle of a wickedly curved knife. Something he might have picked up from reading his own books. A deadly osprey claw-shaped serrated blade. His intention was to use it on the next person he came across.

Jack, was drunk.  Or he was trying and well on his way.

This place was weird enough and then some lunatic fringe starts killing everyone.  Two of the Jacks were already gone and he couldn't find word of the third.  Whether that was good or bad he didn't know but if he went too, what would keep the crackpot from coming after him?  Not that Jack feared death, not in the way most people would. 

But then again, not just the Jacks were dead either.  All manner of folks were being knocked off so to speak.

And what better way that to spend the start of chaos and the possibility of the end of everything?  Sex and Drinking.    And Captain Jack Harkness had come across the bar first.  He sat there and toyed with his glass, the third of many he hoped.  Rum and Coke, always a good choice and even better when made a double.   Jack smiled and talked to the bartender, some would say flirted, Jack would say there's a difference?

Jack missed the aliens, and the Weevils, and pizza delivery.

Yes indeed, Captain, Jack was well on his way to being drunk.