The Universe's Mixer

Karen felt like she hadn't had anything to "eat" in weeks. On a normal day, she was okay with things as long as she fed at least once. But apparently when you got yourself shot by your psycho ex girlfriend and then blown up by her, it took a lot out of you. Literally.

Her stomach was tugging at her in a way that she'd never felt before. Especially not in 'life'. She'd supplemented herself with booze and pills and hadn't really been very into the whole food thing.

Now she felt like she might be dying. And her hands looked gray and almost skeletal. It was ugly. Karen didn't like being ugly. That was the whole purpose to becoming a vampire in the first place. Not being ugly. Never worrying about being ugly again. Like a permanent round of plastic surgery that lasted forever.

She reached over the side of her tub and picked up the phone she kept there. Dialed the number that she'd memorized without even having to try and listened to it ring.

"George. I need you tonight. Load up on jello. Hell, make it jello shots. I'm dying here."

She was standing, holding a gun, pointing it at something. Somebody was wrapped warmly around her body, showing her how to stand, how to squeeze the trigger, not pull it. Moments ago, she'd felt warm and cuddly toward that person. She'd wanted to spend the rest of her life with Harley.

But suddenly, that was all gone.

Karen went a little limp, gun in one hand and turned to Harley.

"I'm sorry honey, I must have been drunk on accident or something. I'm just not as into you as I thought I was."

No big deal, right?

Harley reflected, as she strolled through the park, that Red really would’ve liked this place. It sucked so hard that the zombies had eaten her brains, but that was the only conclusion she could come to since she’d not seen Poison Ivy since that incident. Which sorta meant that Harl was free to do something naughty with the plants without her best friend making her feel guilty.

She was wondering just how easy it would be to drive one of those tree-digger thingies. Her plan was to rearrange the trees into an arboreal artwork of her true love. She’d scouted this place, it was perfect, because it could be seen from the top of the building bearing the message from Mr. J, and from several surrounding. So if he was looking for her, he’d know, she’d gotten the most incredible love letter he’d ever written her. ( He used a whole building! )

"Ah, the old firehouse," Venkman greeted the building as he walked in. "Did you miss daddy? Huh?"

He was dressed in new civilian clothes, having burned the old coveralls he had worn during the zombie invasion. He was showered, shaved, and had just a little bit of a Jim Beam buzz. He was ready to get down to work.

"Karen? Any messages while I was out?"

You're in a funhouse maze, but it's no ordinary funhouse maze. The mighty minotaur is stalking you through it, and you have to get to the center of the maze to save the virgins and get back out before it reaches you.

Karen sat at the secretary's desk at the place where she supposedly worked, Ghostbusters somethingorother. There weren't a lot of phone calls coming in, and those that did went straight to voicemail. Or at least, they went there when Karen pushed the ignore button on the phone. That button was the best thing that had ever been invented, in her opinion.

She was doing her nails. Might as well get something done while at work. The paper filing was being ignored. She was pretty sure she'd said something about not doing that sort of thing. Also not doing windows. She might have also told him that she didn't answer the phone, but he would figure that one out in time.

There was a coffee mug on the desk near her. Previously it would have held vodka. Now it held nothing. The scent of the alcohol was still strong enough to bring back wistful memories. But there was no reason for having it anymore. She couldn't drink it. Looking at it wouldn't get her anything.

Karen sighed.

God, work was so boring.

Mona let her eyes sweep across the empty street, the distinct feeling that something was off, more than off, having hit her like a ton of bricks since her arrival to the City less than ten minutes prior. She was off, mulling over time leaps and alternate realities obsessively. Maybe it had been a quantum leap, much like a streetcar jolting itself back onto a straight path after a particularly narrow curve. Or perhaps jumping the track altogether.

Drop the analogy.

"Gotcha." She replied aloud to her thoughts. Then she sighed. The fact that she had been on Magazine Street making her way towards the Quarter and now she was here, apparently alone, bothered her sincerely. She'd had to stop, remaining utterly still, as she took in her surroundings. She hadn't once thought she'd merely been turned around: the idea was absurd. She knew her hometown all too well; every street, every shortcut, every alley, she knew. This wasn't home. Somehow, she'd managed to step into a different reality. The realization had put her back on her trek, perhaps not quite as perturbed by it as she could have been. Yeah, it was weird, but what was she going to do? Run? Hide? Freak out? That wasn't Mona's style. She also did not believe that Quinn too might be here somewhere. She would have known immediately, and though she did pick up on a few scattered presences, she was well aware that none of them were he. Maybe she could look for a way out...

( Or not. )

Jack missed Karen.

It had been months since they had last talked and there was something just not altogether right about that. They should be seeing each other nearly every day as was the way in the past. Then again, part of Jack missed Will and Grace too, though that reason he wasn't altogether certain of. Fatty and Boobless were entertaining company from time to time, they could never replace Karen.

Jack had no idea where Karen went in this City to shop, relax or even sleep. Where did she go to get her martini's? Was Rosario somewhere making them for her? The City was terribly boring. It was certainly no New York, that was for sure.

Entering another bar, Jack immediately went up to the bar and inquired of the 'tender. "Have you seen a woman about so tall? A socialite who..."

She didn't really know where she was going. She just knew that she needed to find somebody to consume a varied handful of pills and some alcohol so she could have some of their blood and perhaps get a little high for the first time in what felt like a million years.

Karen was going to find Lestat and she was going to punch him. Just once. And then she would feel better.

Really, how did people wander around feeling so many emotions so freely? And not seeing two of everything? How was that at all fun? Of course, now she was seeing things very clearly and in a lot of detail. And she didn't really need to put on makeup every day. And her hair was fantastic without needing a wash. Plus her boobs had never looked better.

She wandered into the little store without paying attention to the sign, and saw the dark haired beauty behind the counter.

"Well." What kind of place was this, anyway?

Karen had been sitting at her desk in her new job at the Ghostbuster's firehouse safety place, doing her nails (not that it really did anything to do file them anymore) and thinking about different ways that she could re-instate her habits. The only way to really go about it, she'd determined, was to find a small child, kidnap it from it's parents, chain it in a basement somewhere, and feed it lots of jello and drugs. Or maybe drugged jello.

It was then that the big shake came.

It literally moved the earth and jostled her out of her chair. She wasn't drunk, so she couldn't blame her lack of balance on that. And she wasn't high, so she couldn't convince herself that it was some sort of auditory hallucination.

The fact that she couldn't write it off made her even more upset. She really didn't like to have to deal with things.

Sighing, Karen sniffed. The boss was out of the building. So she stood up and wandered outside. The sight she got made her eyes go wide.

"Good god! It's Marlo Thomas come to kill us all!"

Peter Venkman strutted around on top of a folding table outside the huge doors of the old firehouse. He pulled a few silly dance moves and mock "rock-out" faces to the delight of the children, as Ray Parker Jr.'s (now official) anthem played on a vintage 1990 boombox.

"If there's somethin' strange," Venkman crooned into his micophone along with the music, "in your neighborhood ... who you gonna call?" He held out his microphone and the children answered him enthusiastically.

Beneath his feet, draped over the table, was a banner indicating an Open House. Stickers and temporary tattoos bearing the logo were stacked here and there, as were pamphlets about the services the company rendered (with no mention of price ranges).

He hopped off the table, strode over to one kid's attractive mom and put his hand on her shoulder. Microphone still in hand, he continued to follow the music. "Lemme tell you somethin' - bustin' makes me feel goo-ood!" Then, retreating to the table again, he spoke. "All right, you guys. That's all for Doctor Venkman right now. I'll be around signing autographs later. Remember, kids, you can pick up an official Ghostbusters T-shirt for twenty American dollars. Just ask your parents' permission. Sad puppy eyes - that's the key. Tug on those heartstrings, kids. All right, thanks! You've been a wonderful crowd! Good night, City!"

A bit breathlessly, Venkman trotted into the station. "Hey anybody see a ghost somewhere? Hi. How's it going. Enjoying yourself? Whoop! Watch it with that thing. I'm not wearin' my proton-proof vest." He proceeded to mingle, looking for anyone with a question.

This one is loud. She is entitled. She's a supreme bitch with a great rack. It's almost a shame to kill her, but The City wants what The City wants. I can't do anything but what it requires.

Besides, like almost every other kill, it's set up way too perfectly.

I could do this one up close, because she's incompetent. She's not a killer, not a hunter, not anything that should be able to stand up to me. But something, The City I'm guessing, is telling me to not get close to her. That she's dangerous now somehow.

The shot is lined up.

There's nobody else around.

Perhaps too confidently, I start to squeeze the trigger.

Unexpectedly, a flock of birds explodes onto the scene.

The shot goes low.

Peter Venkman wasn't especially smart - not for a scientist, anyway - but he had wits to spare. He had also been around the block a few times, cosmically speaking. He'd been to a few creepy, alien dimensions, he'd traveled through time a little, he'd even been to Hell once or twice. "Not a good vacation spot. Let's just leave it at that."

This afternoon, he walked out the front door of the old firehouse - the location of the original Ghostbusters Inc., and currently the global headquarters of Ghostbusters International - and discovered that the deli across the street was now some kind of head shop, the cars on the street were from a variety of different eras (including the near future, apparently) and the skyline of the city was dramatically different. It wasn't much of a leap, then, to assume he'd ended up in an alternate universe of some kind. Maybe something was taking bits and pieces from different worlds and eras and putting them together. Kind of like a hot dog.

He quickly turned around and was relieved to see the firehouse still there. A quick inventory revealed that the equipment - the ECTO-1, the containment grid, and a few proton packs and traps - were still there. No people, however. Damn. Looks like he'd have to hire a new receptionist.

There was a bar across the street. What better place to find out about this world than to talk to the people? And what better time to talk to them than when they're buzzed?

"Hey, barkeep. What kind of booze you serve in this dimension?"

They had flown.

Karen hadn't quite known what to expect when Lestat had said he hoped she wasn't afraid of heights, she couldn't even begin to think of anything that he could come up with doing that would include them. Not that she was worried about it anyway. Heights didn't bother her any more than anything else did. Whether that was because of the drugs and booze in her system, or because she'd long ago sold her soul to the devil, or just because she was naturally fearless, Karen couldn't have said.

They ended up on one of the highest buildings in the city. On the roof, looking down at all the small people who looked even smaller from up here. Karen liked it. She liked that there was no way for them to see her up here. She only wished she could see them better. So she could make fun of their clothing.

"Oh honey." She sighed. "You do know how to show a girl a good time. But I had no idea that vampires could do that."

Of course, she didn't really know anything about vampires at all. Not really. Just what movies said, and she had a feeling that they didn't know anything about real vampires.

Karen Walker was goddamn adorable. Anyone who didn't think so was insane.

Lestat stood behind a clothes rack, and he was very painfully aware of what he looked like under the flourescent lights. They made even live people look dead. His eyes hid behind violet-lensed glasses, and he was dressed relatively tamely, all things considered.

The City Galleria was full of shops, and those shops (all indoors, bless whatever god you would) included a Brooks Brothers.

It was marginally like being in New York City, for a few seconds.

And Karen was here. He knew it immediately. And leaving that store, he proceeded directly to where she was and followed her progress, hiding behind racks and other shoppers until he decided to make his presence known. With the raise of an eyebrow, Lestat smiled at her now and waved.

Fred decided she was going to ask Wesley to the Ballet; there was one in town, well, in the City, and seeing as they hadn't gotten a chance to see it the first time round, or she really hadn't gotten the chance to see it even though Wesley had, she was going to try and go see it this time. She'd thought that with that thought in mind the City might have given her the same dress that Cordy had helped her pick out, but no such luck. Nope, she was going to have to go shopping on her own, which was sort of daunting.

She hadn't see the Doctor since the whole waffle incident, which was unfortunate - she liked the Doctor and it'd put her off of waffles somewhat. She knew eventually she'd get her waffle loving ways back; it wasn't like she'd gone totally off ice cream the time the Durslar demon got all wonky and stuff. She would the first to recognize eating ice cream in the sewers probably wasn't the best way to enjoy it, but she'd been with Angel at the time, so it made it all okay.

Now, she wasn't in an okay place at all. Fred stood in front of one of those fancy clothing boutiques and wondered how was she going to pick the right thing to wear. Then again, she wasn't even sure she could afford it, or worse, she wasn't sure Wesley would even want to go. She supposed she'd have to ask him eventually, but right now, she guessed she'd face the current unknown - fancy dress buying. With that decision in mind, she headed in - she could do this, she knew she could.

Karen giggled to herself as she thought of something that Jack had said. Which Jack it had been, she couldn't say for sure. They had blurred together in her mind temporarily. It didn't help that her Jack, Jackie Jack, had dressed up as a pirate once. Or that time he'd worn the eye patch due to the glitter incident on his show. Or that Jack the Pirate Jack now looked so pretty he could have been a slightly manly gay boy.

The fact that she was drunk and dosed up to the gills on something pink and something orange that she'd gotten off of a guy outside of her building didn't help matters much either.

She hadn't had proper dietary supplements for a long time, since that guy in the white coat had refused to give her anything. What had his name been again? Volleyball? Something like that. He surely wasn't any Pharmacist. Which was a shame. Karen vaguely remembered him being somewhat attractive. She could have used a nice cute doctor. For a lot of things.

Maybe she should try to find him and give him another shot at giving her the things she needed.

The thought faded, however, as she drained her martini glass with a final long sip. All the alcohol gone. And she'd already left the bar. That was a damned shame. Karen tossed the glass aside, and smiled as it hit concrete with a lovely tinkling shattering noise.

She turned to continue on her way.... to wherever she'd been going. But she immediately bumped into somebody.

"Watch where you're going, you!" She said, tone irritated, while she fixed the hair that had come loose during impact.

The ballet, for Jack, left much to be desired. Much. Very much. An incredible amount of everything to be desired. There weren't even any decent hotties in the audience or on the stage. It was a complete and utter disappointment. The only thing more disappointing was that when the cast list for Interview With A Vampire came out and the knowledge that there would be no incredible on-screen man love. A complete disappointment.

Because of his incredibly overwhelming and compete disappointment - ballet was really going to the straights, wasn't it? - Jack sauntered into a bar, sat down, crossed his legs and ordered a frilly little drink. "Excuse me!" He slapped his hand on the table in front of where he sat, expecting service to come to him. "Yeah, hi. Yeah, you, Miss Mustache. Can I get a Cabana Boy Sunset, complete with cabana boy and a little umbrella?" Not even allowing the poor barmaid a chance to answer, he smiled, folded his hands together on the table and cocked his head toward her. "Thanks."

There was the idle thought about going home, if he could find it, and express his frustrations to what he decided was his new favorite neighbor in the history of neighbors; the Billy Idol looking fellow, Spike. A little rough around the edges and scary, but really, who wasn't scary before their first drink (and in Spike's case, probably smoke - he seemed the type to have ashtray breath) of the day. Spike just needed to get laid, then he'd be right as rain and maybe... just maybe, if he was nice, Jack would find him a lady friend.

But right now he had his Cabana Boy Sunset being set before him, complete with little green umbrella. "Hold on, excuse me... no cabana boy?" The barmaid raised an eyebrow, probably considering slapping him in her brain. "Look, whatever. Either get a wax or go back to your Three-Ring, Circus Bear." Waving her off, Jack took happily to his frilly little drink.

"No, honey, I told you it was me and Candice Bergen, not Candice Cameron. Bergen." Karen was smiling big, talking to somebody she didn't know. The conversation might have been going for hours, and it might have just started. "The last good time she and I had together is that time we set up Martha Stewart, everything since then has been one long horror ride." A dreamy look overtook her features. "I just love her to bits."

She was sitting in a bar. Or maybe it was a waiting room. For all Karen knew, it could have been a fancy new fangled indoor park, for all the plants hanging out all over the place. She'd not seen so much foliage since nineteen fifty four when she went out with Green Peace that one time to Viet Nam.

"You're not even listening."