The Universe's Mixer

The City wasn't too up to speed on a lot of things that humans required in their daily lives. It liked order, and it liked rules. It also liked bending things around to fit whatever it wanted it to that particular day. But one thing that it was very sure of was that kids needed to go to school. In order for kids to go to school, they had to have teachers.

The concept of parent/teacher conferences was something that it had come across recently. It didn't quite grasp the idea that the parents were supposed to talk to the teachers and find out what their kids were doing, and if they were passing or having problems. It just thought that it was a time to get everyone in one room. Thus, it thought, it could be the same thing to have student/teacher conferences and accomplish the same thing.

It sent out a flier to all the school-aged kids that it had brought in as well as the adults he knew did teaching things within the City's walls. It hadn't previously realized how many of them it had collected, seeing the list of names, it became a little excited. Not to mention a little bit proud of itself. It was furthering the education of the youths!

There was absolutely no consideration to the fact that it was snowing very hard outside, and very few if any of these people had a vehicle. All it cared about was getting them all in the same room.

( OOC )

Open to zombies and non-zombies alike.

The City Courts.

It was the last stand for a lot of people. They'd come here unorganized, managed to get themselves put together, and survive. They'd lost some who had come in with bites, but had managed to get them back outside without too much bloodshed. Some had been lost entirely due to the inability to excise them from the building once they'd turned. It had taken them some time to arrange themselves and make sure all of the entries into the massive building were covered.

Now they had one of the court rooms set up as their refuge. One of the court rooms set up as a medical bay. And a variety of people who were changed out every so often keeping watch on the hallways. You couldn't be too certain about these things.

Just outside was a group of those things. They could be heard moaning and scratching at the massive wooden doors. Those doors were the only thing between the living and the semi-living. They were thick and heavy, locked and held tightly closed with chains and chairs and stacked desks. Nobody would be getting in that way, living or dead.

The only way out was through a high window on one side. They had a ladder they'd found in the janitor's closet. It expanded just enough to reach the second story, where the window was. The small jut out of roof there held that ladder when it wasn't in use. They'd devised a bucket and rope system to help pull up supplies.

It was fairly sound.

But they were once again running low. With this many people, it was difficult to keep enough food and water for everybody. Not to mention blankets and medical supplies. It seemed like every few hours they had another addition to their group. Sometimes they brought things with them, most of the time they did not.

All they had to do was survive. It was proving to be easier said then done.

Bruce sprang out of bed, breathing hard. The last thing he remembered was Tim going down. The sight of blood. And then nothing.

Nothing.

He very distinctly remembered the nothing that was there. The not living. Not being alive. It hadn't been a dream, as much as he wanted it to be, and the look on Alfred's face when he encountered his loyal friend at the door of the bedroom told him that he had, in fact, been dead.

Which meant that Tim had been dead too.

Bruce wondered if Tim had remained that way while he, Bruce, had somehow managed to pull a Lazarus and was breathing now as if nothing had gone wrong.

He found himself sprinting toward the boy's room, calling his name as he moved. Hoping that Tim would pop out of somewhere before he could get to the bedroom door.

"Tim!" One final time as he got his hand around the knob and burst in.

Now this was different. Not on the street or on a rooftop or in the park, but in a house. And one hellava house too. I looked for signs of security but it seems The City took care of that for me, at least for a little while.

What luck, finding them both, here together.

Resting the rifle on the wall, the target was easily spotted in the scope. The older one had been targeted first, but the younger moved in the way. That would just be his bad luck.

Take a breath. Hold it.

Fire.

Quickly I recovered, focused on the goal. And found the other. Didn't want to let too much time pass or give him too long to get away.

So I didn't.

Take a breath. Hold it.

Fire.


His fancy cars wouldn't help him now. Nor would his money or his technology or skills. It would help either of them at all.

Lee thought that she was adjusting to the City fairly well, all things considered. She'd found an apartment that suited her needs--small, spartan, and it came complete with her stuff from the tiny house that she rented in Louisiana. She'd thought it better not to ask about that part. She'd even found that her leg hadn't been broken after all. The morning after she collapsed into bed, she'd found that while it hurt like a motherfucker, it was still usable. She'd taken a few days to soak it in hot water, watch bad daytime TV, and pop painkillers. Now she walked with only a slight tendency to favor that leg, and tried to avoid bumping into any chairs or counters. There was still a rather large bruise that covered most of her thigh, though it was finally starting to fade from angry purples and red to a sick greenish-yellow in places.

She'd even found a job, after a fashion: back to teaching gym at the local school. It could have been worse. Lee had never been one for a desk job, and she preferred working with kids to working with adults.

And it seemed there was other work for her here. She'd been hearing about a series of murders, and she was bored enough to look into it. She'd patched up her cloak and hood yet again and had leaped to the top of a building downtown, watching.

((Not just open to the characters who like prowling rooftops! She can jump down and join whatever character gets thrown in if they don't feel like being several stories up in the air.))

"What do you mean by 'Jack Napier is dead', Alfred?" Bruce had come home after finishing his date with Aeon to all kinds of bizarre and interesting news, not to mention news of murders happening all over the city. But this took the cake.

"I mean, sir, that he's dead. He was the first victim in this rash of new murders." Alfred stood, watching Bruce, an eyebrow lifted. Curious to see what would happen next.

"So he draws a giant penis on my building and then gets killed." Bruce couldn't help but feel like it was some natural retribution for everything The Joker had done to him over the years, including his time here. The Joker here was, quite regrettably, much more violent. He had his moments back home, yes, but something about the City had brought out the worst in him.

"Well." Bruce wasn't sure what to say.

"There's something else, sir."

"Something like what?"

"On my routine today I discovered there are things in Master Tim's room again."

"What kind of things?"

"Stuff, sir. Like things belonging to him."

Bruce stopped thinking about everything else. He looked directly at Alfred. His old friend would never joke about anything like that. Even so, the look on his face solidified it.

"Is it..."

"The same Tim? I can't tell, sir. None of the things are age restrictive."

"Is he..."

"Actually here? Not that I've seen, sir. There's been no show of him on the property at all from what I've seen on the cameras. But he's here somewhere, sir."

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.