The Universe's Mixer

The second that Fixit was closed, Megan 'ported herself back to the cottage, directly into her room. There was half an hour until Dinah had said that they would meet up again in front of the store, and while that had seemed like plenty of time earlier, Megan had forgotten the state of her room.

She started digging through her closet for workout clothes, throwing things aside, and stopped. Typical. The City knew. Her old X-men uniform hung in the back of the closet: reinforced fabric, armored boots and gauntlets, everything.

Megan hesitated for just a moment before grabbing for the familiar black and yellow. If all else, it was something she was familiar with.

Pulling her hair back, she 'ported herself back to Fixit to wait.

Dinah had decided to go looking for Megan to check up on the girl. It had a been awhile and she couldn't help but feel a little bit responsible. She had also considered offering to work with her, if she wanted. The mutant had expressed a curiosity about the Justice League and while there wasn't much of a team left, Dinah still thought that she and Hank had room to take in new people if they needed a place to go.

When she didn't find Megan at the coffee shop and heard that the young woman was no longer employed there, she asked around. There weren't too many pink-haired girls with fairy wings in the City after all, so it wasn't hard to find her.

The information Dinah received had pointed her in the direction of Megan's new place of employment, Fixit. Dinah found the shop and pushed open the door, looking for a sign of pink hair or wings.

THE VIOLETTA MURDERS

That headline haunted Erik as he stepped out of his town car. He'd already read the newspaper article, heard the broadcasts on the television, investigated the site himself, as well as he could... The Violetta Murders -- unimaginative, childish, lacking in finesse. Although the City was abuzz with the bloody intrigue of piles of corpses left in the street last night, corpses dressed with perfect replicas of the outfit his Christine wore for La Traviata, Erik found himself infuriated rather than horrified.

No stranger to the mania that could surround a successful diva, and no stranger to the brutality of human depravity, Erik saw the crime for what it was. Clearly, his Christine was the ultimate target. The Violetta Murders themselves? A message, perhaps. A fantasy enacted on those fortunate enough to resemble his pupil. Practice. Whatever it was, he would not permit it to stand, would not permit it to continue, and would never allow Christine herself to be caught up in whatever puerile attempt this might be. While the City's law enforcement began its investigation, Erik had begun one of his own. He would find the truth.

Another safeguard for his Christine, and one that fit well into his existing plan, brought him to the jeweler's, where he now stood. The storefront was sleek, black, powerful - with understated, simple silver font proclaiming it to be "Babiole". He stepped to the window cases and with a critical eye examined the display pieces for the quality that the store felt worthy enough to display. Was it worthy enough for Christine?

Freshly moved in to her new place, Megan was in a good mood. And good moods should be spread. In this case, Megan decided to pay it forward by doing some outreach for Fixit. Annie would like the business, right? More business meant more machines to talk to, as far as she figured. It would be like making new friends. Maybe. She still wasn't clear on the absolute specifics of how Annie's powers worked. And there was a new employee to hire! All in all, lots of work to be done.

So Megan made flyers. Come visit the store flyers. Help wanted flyers. Lots of neon flyers. She thought they looked cute, and she'd remembered to put the name and address of the store on it and everything. And in those bright colours, there was no way they'd be missed.

She spent an afternoon out 'porting to various parts of the City, taping them up, leaving them in little piles inside stores, and slipping them underneath cars' wipers. So much more interesting than taking something out in the paper, she thought, bending back the wiper of a black car and shoving a couple of flyers underneath.

An army of guests couldn't eat the produce in Beauty's cart before it spoiled, and Beauty realized this just as she set three large tomatoes beside the avocados she'd painstakingly selected. With a frown, she poked through the carrots and apples (those were for Horse, so they didn't count), checked under the carton of blueberries for the late summer strawberries, then pushed at the sacks of celery, broccoli, cauliflower, cucumber, zucchini...

The rest of the basket was full of bread, all sorts of bread -- baguettes, croissants, sourdough, rye, marbled rye, hard rolls. Then there were the bottles of juice. (Bottled juice, even after 4 years, was still a joy.) And the crackers. And she had the makings of five different cheese plates in the back of the cart, too.

Beauty raked a hand through her hair. It was still disconcerting to find that her hair terminated at her shoulders, so she dropped her hand again and stared dolefully at her shopping cart.

Clearly, she was distracted.

She started paring down the vegetables.

That Fortress place sucked.

There really wasn't a polite way for Megan to put it, even if she didn't say so out loud once the entire time she was there. She was proud of herself for that. Take that, everyone back home who said that she was absolutely incapable of not saying everything that popped into her head the second she thought of it! Of course, she said it out loud the second she woke up in her own bed, in--well, not her own City, but it was near enough to home these days, and she did a little dance, and got dressed in something that didn't look like it had been rolled in dirt and used on the set of a movie about the end of the world, and set out for real food. Chocolate. Anything chocolate.

She decided against teleporting, since that was what got her into this whole mess. And besides, she wanted to take it all in, enjoy the familiar sights, and see if she recognized any of the people she'd missed. She flew down from her flat, but walked to a corner store for food, and then kept walking after she'd gorged herself, grinning happily at everything and everyone.

It was great to be back. And this time, she'd even returned from the unexpected trip elsewhere with what remained of her soul intact! It was shaping up to be a wonderful day.

Fred hadn't been in hiding since the strange meeting at the bookstore. She'd meant to check on Errol, but the check-up hadn't gone at all how she'd planned. Not that she'd had anything planned in particular, but she was certain that she would not have planned what happened had she been allowed to plan anything. Or admitted to planning anything.

She was glad to see that Errol was working with someone, rather than sitting all alone in the bookstore. He needed companionship, someone to remind him that he was human and it was okay to smile. Beauty seemed very much the right person for that, what little Fred had been able to gather from the odd brief meeting. She smiled - Beauty had - which was a good thing. And, she was soft in a giving way; Beauty'd only wanted the best outcome, hadn't she? She cared, again another plus in Fred's opinion. Of course, this was all going on a very short brief meeting and way too many assumptions. Then again, Beauty worked in a bookstore, not a strip joint, so surely she was that sort of bookish Beauty, not the other kind? Not that there was anything wrong with strippers; Fred just hadn't met many.

The brainy Texan continued this sort of inner dialogue, working out what had happened as well as throwing in a few items from her day job; she was starting to wonder if they didn't need an accountant or insurance. Angel Investigations wasn't a huge money maker, but sure, she could make the money that did come in work for her somehow.

The City allowed her time to think during her walk. She had a destination in mind, a purpose, and she hoped that she was going to get good answers. Annie could help; she just knew the technopath could. That's what mutants were for if they weren't trying to take over the world and subjugate the human race, right?

Hannibal sighed at his phone. The blasted thing seemed to be on the fritz again. Ringing when there was nobody on the other end of the line, refusing to send out text messages and showing him only a garbled screen when he attempted to access his patient files through it. He hadn't realized how much he relied on the stupid thing until it stopped working properly.

After a few inquiries, Hannibal had the name of a place that could fix these problems for him. The name, somewhat amusingly, being Fixit. He arranged to have a long lunch so that he could track this establishment down and see what they could do about all of this.

It was easy enough to find, and it seemed to him that the City was on his side for this venture. It took him no time at all. He looked up at the sign on the front of the building. It wasn't new and flashy, but old and elegant. He hadn't expected that. He also didn't expect the way the place would look on the inside as he walked in. It was a little hodge-podge, but he could deduce the order of things pretty simply.

Hannibal walked to the counter and gently rang the old fashioned bell that sat by the rather new looking checkout system. He wondered if it was the City that made everything so eclectic, or if it had been the owner.

Annie was getting ready to put a Help Wanted sign up in her store window. She didn't really need any extra hands, the store was small and got little traffic, but she thought it might be nice to have somebody to talk to during the day, and somebody who could trade off shifts with her so she wouldn't have to be at the store all the time.

Maybe even two people.

She was a little nervous about being the boss. It was one thing to be the boss when it was just you working, an entirely different thing when you had to actually tell people what to do. She thought that she could do it, though. But she was going to make sure to be really careful about who she hired, because she was not sure she could fire anyone if they didn't do something hugely bad.

The sign was being drawn by hand. Not because she couldn't afford one of those ones that you bought, she just felt like doing it herself. She wasn't the best artist in the world, but she could do lettering. Anyone could do lettering.

With the sign done, Annie placed it in the window. Next to the door. At right about eye level.

Until Thomas, she'd always hoped that she'd be able to find a way back home. She'd been taken away from her family, from her life... and she never had believed or accepted that it was a one-way trip. But Thomas changed things. Beauty hadn't known that she was needed here. She hadn't known that a City could be a friend. And she hadn't known just how hesitant she'd be to leave certain people she'd met since being pulled into this City. For better or worse, Thomas had made Beauty realize that she was home, now.

And a glance into a reflective store window made her realize that she didn't dress quite the same way as everyone else in the City -- even when the City was forcing her to wear certain things at times (and now she wondered if it wasn't simply looking out for her...).

"Hmm," she said, fidgeting with the long ponytail she'd tied up in a ribbon. A second later, she'd pulled the ribbon out and instead tied the ribbon around her throat. Still, no good. Off it came. She tried on her wrist, next. That was... a little better. And then there was her dress. She eyed it critically. White muslin, blue flowers, long sleeves, long skirt, high collar, a touch of lace. It was one of her favorite dresses that the City had brought to her, and she wore it quite a lot. But then a very statuesque woman walked behind her, and the comparison was... painful.

That settled it. Rather than heading toward the fruit stands in the center of town to fill her basket with various delicious treats, she started roaming the shops instead. There were clothes stores; she'd seen them -- she'd just never gone into them before... Ah! There was one, with a very colorful scarf-y looking thing wrapped around a mannequin dressed in a bit of frothy fabric. She squinted at it. It looked like fish net. How... odd... but she was willing to try. Beauty had learned by now to keep a very wide open mind.

In she went.

The City Hall was chosen because it held a room within it that was big enough to accommodate the droves of people that were sure to come. Plus, being inside space, there were no worries over weather that couldn't be controlled. The people could sit and listen and not have to try to hear past traffic or wind.

Even with the late notice, everything was done well before the scheduled start time, which Thomas was proud of. He was glad that the ones who were born here weren't entirely useless without him around. They were keeping their heads together, doing what needed to be done. Of course, it also could have been the fact that they believed Thomas was who he claimed to be, and with his presence there with them, they felt better about the situation they were currently in.

Thomas looked at the stage. That's where he would be standing, talking to the people he had brought here. He had no doubts that they would be the ones with the questions, the ones who demanded answers. He was ready. He could do this.

He sat in a seat hidden by a curtain, where he could still see the stage and the rows of chairs beyond, and waited.

She probably should have expected to be fired when she made an entire coffee shop full of people hallucinate and took off with no notice. It still stung, though.

Megan let herself have one day of full-time moping, where she didn't even change out of her PJs and bathrobe and ate cereal and ice cream and watched movies. It didn't really make her feel better, and the sugary cereal and ice cream made her feel sick at the end of the day, so one day was really all that was needed.

What she really needed, she decided, was to actually cheer up. With friends. A friend. She hadn't seen Rufio in a while, since she'd been busy with work, but--well, it wasn't like that was a worry right now, was it? Fanged sniffy guys, on the other hand, were. She doused herself with Febreze just in case and teleported from her living room to Rufio's fort.

"Hello?" she called the second she was fully there. Outside, because she didn't want to just 'port directly into somebody's house with no notice. She knocked on the door. "Rufio? Are you home?"

"Sihal Novarum Chinoth."

With the usual flare of pink light, Megan vanished from the park and reappeared behind the library. She looked around, nodded to herself, and took out a small notepad and a clicky pen from her pocket, scribbling notes in it before returning both. She took a deep breath, bracing herself and threw her hands out in front of her.

"Sihal Novarum Chinoth."

Another flare of bright pink light, and she was gone, off again to continue her teleporting experiment. She reappeared just outside the botanical gardens, and started scribbling again.

Megan's cozy third-floor flat was clean.

Of course, this resulted in two bags full of dirty laundry that had previously been tossed everywhere. She frowned down at the bags, hefted one, grunted, and put it down, staring doubtfully out the window. The nearest laundromat wasn't that far away, but...

A little cheating was useful sometimes. And with the streets staying put, she didn't even have to worry about ending up somewhere completely weird. One Sihal Novarum Chinoth later, and she and one of the laundry bags appeared inside the laundromat in a halo of pink light. She dusted off her hands, satisfied, and dragged the bag over to the nearest empty machine.

Being more used to, but not even remotely tired of, being in the sun, Eric had taken to exploring more of the shops that he didn't normally have access to. There were stores and restaurants that opened only at lunch. He did make a point to stay clear of Dinah and her shop, as he had promised her, but he felt that the rest of the City was fair game.

Not truly intending to buy any, Eric stepped inside a coffee shop and took in the smells. It was a strong, powerful aroma that covered pretty much everything within. It was almost overpowering to the point of causing him an inability to smell the underlying scents. Eric had no idea why humans would enjoy such a harsh thing, but the place was filled, so he must be missing something.

He was going to turn and leave when he saw the girl working the counter. Her pink hair wasn't really extraordinary to him. He'd seen wilder dos at his bar. But the wings. Now, those were something special. And it only took him a moment of watching to see that they were the real thing, not just some accessory worn by a pathetic wanna-be.

Eager, he stepped into the line. Part of him wished to push to the front, but he knew that it would only cause a ruckus in the shop. He waited as the line slowly inched forward until he was the one at the front.

He beamed.

He could smell her. Oh, it was covered with that odor of the coffee, and not as strong as others he had encountered. He was willing to stake a bet that she wasn't a full blooded fairy. But she didn't have to be, did she?

"Hello." He didn't wait for her to speak. "I'm entirely new to coffee. I'm hoping you can help."

She'd put off doing anything while she decided what exactly to do about it, but Megan had come to a decision. She needed to look for these Justice League people.

Really, how hard could it be? If they were anything like the superheros back home, she wouldn't be able to throw a rock without hitting one. Or a person who would complain about how a one hadn't been there to stop the rock from hitting, or how superheros were nuisances who ruined lives and threw rocks everywhere. She kept an ear to the ground, metaphorically speaking.

And then she just started asking people who came into the House of Coffee if they'd ever heard of the Justice League because patience was overrated.

So all right, it weirded some of the customers out, but a few were happy to give her all sorts of opinions and tell stories of where they'd been when a giant monkey or something attacked (and seriously, how had she missed that? It sounded... well, memorable, if not actually awesome, since the giant monkey sounded kind of freaky) or assorted other run-ins. She actually started skimming the newspaper that was left out for borrowing on the counter every morning for mentions.

Maybe she should just put out a personal ad, she thought. "16 y/o former superhero seeks current superheros for q&a. No funny business." Except that was probably just asking for disaster. Like, Craigslist personals disaster.

No personal ad, then. She kept asking around at work and flying instead of teleporting, because seriously, you'd think wings would be like a big beacon of "Hi there, please talk to me!" to people with superpowers.

After her visit with the mayor--okay, if she was being perfectly honest with herself it was more like after being caught spying on the mayor--Megan had things to do and questions to ask. She'd need to find these J-whatsit people Mayor Heart had mentioned if they had powers because she needed to find out more about what things were like here for others like her outside of the six-block radius she'd been mostly sticking to for home and work.

Also, and top on her list, she needed to find Rufio again. She'd almost accidentally ratted him out. Stupid big-mouthed Megan. She flushed almost as pink as her hair at the thought of it as she flew along, high up in the air. But she might have got some information, provided it could be trusted, and if she could just talk to Rufio she might be able to piece together a better picture and maybe figure out what to do.

God, she hated being the one in charge of figuring plans out. She wished any of her teammates from back home were here to think things over and just tell her what to do. Ugh.

Megan kept an eye out for what she'd remembered about Rufio's fort-building-house-thingy: that it had a hole in the roof and a painting of a tree. It took the better part of the rest of her afternoon, but she found it, tree and all.

He'd said something about the hole in the roof and traps, hadn't he? She couldn't remember if it had been go in or don't go in, and decided to play it safe. She landed on the roof with a thump--flying all afternoon almost nonstop was tiring--and peered in to yell. "Rufio? It's Megan. Are you home?"

If anyone could say that he had taken to life in the City without batting an eyelash, it was Toot. He had friends, he had a steady flow of work Harry, he had his fellow fae to look out for, he had pizza, and donuts, and even the occasional coca-cola. Life was good.

In fact, he was quite sure that it couldn't get any better, as he sat on the rooftop of Harry's office building, munching on leftover pizza and sipping a caffeinated soda--couldn't get any better, that is, until he noticed a young lady heading down the block, with wings and hair as bright pink as his own were sparkly purple. Win!

"Hey, Lady!" he called unabashedly as she passed by. He was just caffeinated enough that he could probably fly into a wall, and explode in a shower of Skittles. "I like your hair!"

Snooping was hard when you stood out. A hat and sunglasses kind of helped cover her hair, ear, and eyes, but Megan hated covering her wings. It was uncomfortable and it made her nervous, since she liked being able to fly at a moment's notice. But it needed to be done.

She needed to investigate. Who was the mayor? Why had Rufio decided that he needed to be fought? Did the mayor know anything more about the city that she did? (She hoped so. He ran the place, after all.) Megan couldn't very well know how to defend herself and her friends--current, future, whatever--if she didn't know anything about this threat. Or if he even was a threat. Stupid lack of information.

Which was how she ended up in oversized sunglasses and her hair tucked mostly under a really snazzy fedora being all inconspicuous just outside of Mayor Heart's window, trying to peek in all spy-like. Hovering. Because the stupid coat was uncomfortable and too warm and people never looked up anyway, right?

Jo had started to explore the City about since her arrival, though she'd spent just as much time in the Roadhouse. Having it here was incredibly surreal, but it was a comfort. It gave her a home base, and something familiar. That was good, considering that she was as lost as ever in this City.

She still hadn't decided whether or not she was dead. No other theory made sense, but this wasn't like any kind of Heaven or Hell she'd ever heard of.

In the days leading up to New Year's Eve, she'd started to notice signs and flyers everywhere she went. It was lucky that she noticed these, because they were advertising drink specials and New Year's Eve entertainment at the Roadhouse. All Ages Accepted, bracelets for those over 21 to drink.

She knew she hadn't planned that. Hell, she hadn't even really been aware of what time of year it was when she got here. She didn't exactly know who to talk to or how to undo the advertising that had be done.

So New Year's Eve found her in the bar, which had been mysteriously decorated and was currently filled with the sounds of a live band. Which was really odd, because there had never been anything more than a jukebox in the Roadhouse, and Jo most certainly had not hired a live band.

All the same, she couldn't exactly complain about the flood of business (she was thankful for the employees that had apparently come with the place, who were fielding drink orders alongside her) or about the tips that she was raking in at the moment. And at least she wasn't spending New Year's Eve alone in some bizarre alternate dimension, so she supposed that was good. Assuming, of course, that she had time to think as she bustled around filling drink orders.


OOC: feel free to throw your character in for a little bit of New Year's Eve fun. Don't worry about taking turns, and feel free to branch off into random interactions threads or whathaveyou.