The Universe's Mixer

[see here for the guest list]

Ice sculptures: check
Roast pig: check
String quartet: check
Candelabra: check

Although Vandal stood in the castle he'd known for around a thousand years, it was hardly recognizable. The cold, spare remnants of history were obscured by lavish party decorations. Vandal himself was dressed in his courtly attire, cravat and all. He paced a little impatiently, having completed preparations early and now waiting for the guests to arrive fashionably late.

He pulled a PDA out of his pocket to check the time, and waved to one of his staff. "Tell Dino to open the drawbridge. We are officially open."

Farley Claymore certainly did.

He ran.

He needed to get out of there - it didn't matter where he ended up.

Of course, the sudden appearance of the handily-marked exit was convenient, even though he could have sworn there had been a window overlooking the lobby there a few minutes ago...

You disgust me, he'd said, though a voice in his head now replied And you disgust me when he thought about it.

It didn't matter though. All he wanted now was to get away from that horrible, choking, lying darkness-

WHAM

He came to a minute later, and tried to focus on whatever it was he'd just hit.

Stop sign. Oh...

He glanced around, trying to figure out where he was. A glance to the left revealed the brightly decorated canopy of... what the hell?

...magic... shop? Magic shop?

Well, it was a shop. Shops inevitably meant people, no matter how weird they were. Even if he'd had enough weirdness for quite a while...

After a little struggle, he stumbled to his feet and made his way unsteadily towards the store...

Jesus, couldn't a girl even get to work without being accosted by Valentine's Day crap?

Anita dodged the guys selling red roses on the corner, silently cursing them and every other reminder that she was alone, without her boyfriends. It wasn't like she wasn't occasionally getting 'taken care of' here, but it just wasn't the same as having someone who knew your likes, your dislikes, your every inch.

Suddenly she felt like she was being watched. It was an uncomfortable, prickly feeling that raised her magic along with her hackles. Her eyes darted around at all the people crowded on the street nearby. Suddenly, a whirring sound had her looking up.

Fucking Cupid! Are you fucking serious? The City had lost it this time.

She tried ducking the barrage of arrows it shot into the panicking commuters, but it was no use. She tripped over a slow-moving teenager and felt a pink (why did it have to be fucking pink?!?) arrow wiggle its way into her shoulder.

She decided to stay face-down on the sidewalk for a little while. Maybe if she ignored it, it would all go away.

Vandal Savage was happy - almost giddy - though he did his best to put on a serious face. He was enjoying putting the final pieces in place for a formal ball at the castle. As a way of inviting Xanadu to the event he was now bringing her a length of burgundy-colored silk. This was a preview of a garment currently being tailored for her on the other side of town.

"Madame Xanadu," he called politely as he stepped through the front doorway of her shop, "may I have a word with you?"

The Christmas lights in the Botanical Gardens and the park were impressive, but Vandal Savage wasn't much of one for sentimentality. He was drawn to blinking lights of a different kind.

His heavy feet crunched through the fresh snow as he approached the improbable array of spaceships in the park. There was the elegant and mysterious simplicity of a classic flying saucer, the lovable dilapidation of a well-used cargo transport, and the weird majesty of a massive vessel whose purpose he could not even venture to guess.

"What I wouldn't give to take a look inside these machines," he marveled aloud.

During the infestation Vandal spent most of his days on the parapets of his castle looking to the front gate for any more refugees, or for the return of the impetuous Dean. The boy was likely dead, but he had borrowed a crossbow that Vandal rather wanted back, and he wanted to be there should the boy come back to return it.

Today, however, he was in the Great Hall having a feast. With the power out, his generator would only support a few of his refrigeration units, so they had to get rid of some stores of food. He sat at the banquet table sampling a variety of ice creams that would make Baskin jealous, not to mention Robbins.

The man in the crosshairs looked safe. He had a healthy enough color, no visible injuries, his movement looked natural, and from what little Vandal Savage heard, the man appeared to be using complete sentences. Still, one couldn't be too careful. He had pulled in the drawbridge at the first sign of this plague, and though he intended to take in some unfortunates and shelter them in his castle (the people of this City held a charitable man in the highest of esteem), he refused to endanger his own life. Earlier, he watched and even fired a few helpful shots as a small group of refugees fought off infected citizens in front of his castle, sustaining minor injuries. However, just as he was about to give the order to lower the drawbridge to allow the survivors in, he saw the infection take hold in the injured members mere minutes after the attack. He would wait a few minutes to see if this new refugee turned.

Vandal removed the sniper rifle from the parapet atop the castle where he sat and watched with his own eyes as the man paced nervously in front of the castle. He picked up a glass of brandy from a table he'd brought up with him, and he sipped patiently. Usually Vandal abstained from such unhealthy activity, but special situations demanded special drinks.

Sure enough, a minute later, the man dropped slowly to the ground, and shortly thereafter, slowly rose up again. The poor wretch began to look around in search of food. Vandal put his fingers to his lips and blew a loud whistle so that the wretch would take notice. He did, and began shambling toward the castle, not seeing the sheer drop of the ravine until he was hurtling down into it. He crunched into the rocks and brush that served as a moat - probably not dead, but out of the way, at least. No point in wasting bullets at this point.

"Damned unwashed masses," cursed Vandal, and he took another swig of brandy.

Halloween.  Tony Stark's favorite time of the year.  The weather was perfect, not too hot or cold, trees around the city were changing colors.  And he had no reason in the world to complain here.  He and Pepper were together, and it'd been a blissful few weeks since their initial union.  For the first time in years, Tony could say he was happy and satisfied.

He'd sent out invitations city wide in hopes of drawing in the citizens to his home for him to have a chance to meet them.  He hadn't ventured out much since he'd been here, mostly because even if he was ever the social butterfly, Tony was too focused on fixing the once damaged relationship between him and Pepper.  Now that was all taken care of and here he stood in his bedroom putting on his costume.  He'd laid his choice of cstume out on Pepper's bed for her to put on, chosen since she'd lost to him in a little game they'd played to determine what they'd spend this night as.  It was custom tailored to fit her form perfectly, having taken the dress she'd worn for their first night together and used its measurements.

He stared at himself in the mirror, thinking that his goatee would make wearing the mask a little awkward at best, but he didn't care.  He thought since he should play the mysterious host of the night, that he should don the look of someone just as mysterious.  Taking a step back from the mirror, he attempted to twirl the cape, almost tangling himself up in it the first few times until he got the hang of it and smiled.  Affixing his mask to his face, he smirked as he gave his appearance one last once over.

The Phantom of the Opera was ready for his grand entrance.

[ooc: If you're character is showing up, feel free to start your own thread under this.  Tony will attempt to greet everyone but might not for getting sidetracked by others.  If you plan to crash the party, I will start a separate thread after a day or two to give people a chance to do regular party stuff.  Have fun, and don't be shy with your characters!  This is a very social log!]

One thing that Jesse took very to heart was the idea of charities in The City. There wasn't much good going on, so what was there was important. He tended to keep an eye on everything the best that he could. Checking in on the folks who ran things, making sure they had what they needed. Did what he could to get them things without overstepping his own lines too much.

He was godlike now, and didn't at all want to abuse that.

The fact that he was so involved was why he was so surprised to see a new face floating around in one of the charity buildings when he was doing his weekly rounds.

Jesse walked up to the man with a smile.

"Howdy, friend."