The Universe's Mixer

Errol's apartment was back where he'd left it, more or less, and the landlord took his long disappearance in stride. All of his belongings, few enough though they were, were inside when he opened the door. While Errol was a habitually neat person and not given to clutter, he noted that the few things that he remembered leaving out--a book on a table, his coat left over the back of a chair--were still there, as if he'd never left. He rested his hand on the black Cleric's coat for a moment before gathering it up and hanging it in his closet.

He stood aimlessly for a few minutes before deciding to go for a walk. He still couldn't quite wrap his head around the idea that he'd been gone for so long. Years, it seemed. Logically, it made sense. If the City was what Beauty said it was, and arriving as he had he didn't have much reason to doubt outlandish claims, there was no reason to believe that something as odd as being sent away and then returned could have happened. But he needed to see the City for himself. See what had changed. Cement it in his mind.

He left his apartment and turned down one of the City's streets with no destination in mind, keeping a brisk pace and looking at everything. If nothing else, he had always enjoyed the sights of the City.

Fred wasn't sure how she got to the Tower. Her mind was working through what had just happened. She rode up in the elevator, her fingers touching just so. She didn't do the first position as he showed her, so much as just let her fingers touch together almost as if she were just about to clasp her hands before her rather than behind her. She ran the events, what there was of them, through her mind. She was so lost in thought that she nearly let the doors shut on the HQ before she noticed she was there.

The brainy Texan didn't try to glide across the floor. She didn't try to do anything. She just walked from elevator to Jake Jensen, nudging him softly to indicate she wanted to sit on his lap, and as soon as he moved, she climbed right up on his lap and curled up there. Her fingers curled into his shirt. She wasn't shaking, but she wasn't her usually smiling self.

"Do you think I could be a dancer?" The question wasn't really one she thought he'd answer. It was almost too soft to be heard. She nuzzled his shoulder, holding to him for a moment before sighing.

Last time it had been cold and bright. He'd been outside. And his face... impossible, but he'd had a face. The hatred had still kept him in shadows, and the shadows... He shook his head to recall but couldn't fathom what came within that damp, cold intermission. But tonight, what heralded him to awareness was Tosca's closing strains. His back shot ramrod straight as the house lights came on. The deep, constant pain of his face was gone and he felt air across it. His hand flew over his ruined cheek and found only smoothness where there had been open sores. His hair... Now, rather than sparse strands and clumps that he covered with clever wigs, now it was replaced with what all other men his age took for granted. He passed a gloved hand over his hair and felt the telling tug of scalp underneath it.

He could have dismissed it for another morphine dream, but those felt... those felt watery, far different from now. All the same, he stood from his box seat and stepped against the shadows of the curtains. Tugging off his jacket, then rolling up his sleeves, he checked for dots of blood down his arms. Nothing. No, it wasn't imagination. He was in The City, yet again. It was not his Opera House in Paris, but rather the City Opera House. They did a good imitation. Several floors below ground, he imagined he would find his home as he had in the past. But he had to be certain, nonetheless. He had to see for his own eyes the strange city spread out in front of him.

The roof, then. He threw himself back into his jacket again, then set a practiced hand against the center pillar in Box 5. There was a trap door that would lead him behind the stage, and then it was simply a matter of... A matter of... Erik knew the switch was just here, but his fingers didn't find it. No, it was here. It was here. It wasn't. He had the nagging feeling he should check his arms again, but resisted the urge. There was another access point three boxes down, one he loved to use to torment the owners. It meant entering the throng of exiting patrons... He shuddered involuntarily, then hated himself for it. Squaring his shoulders, he took a steadying breath, then lifted his chin. He stored his fear, his hate, and turned instead to his disgust for humanity. It could get him through this. An aura of power and command settled around his shoulders. He stepped through the curtains and into the aisle.

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.

The brainy Texan curled up under her covers; it'd taken her a while to fall asleep. She'd fallen asleep staring at the phone she was actually waiting for it to just disappear. They always disappeared, always went away. Of course, she never saw them disappear; it was usually when she was asleep or not looking. They always went poof. She didn't want to wake up, open her eyes, and see that the small phone was gone. She didn't want to see the pager sitting there all by itself.

She groaned softly and finally gave up waiting. Plus, she was really needing to slip to the ladies'. She squeezed her eyes closed tightly and, with another grown, opened her eyes. She had to blink a few times to make sure she was seeing things clearly. She nearly whooped in excitement, but instead, she took care of the usual wakeup routine, a bounce in her step.

Pocketing the pager and the phone, she checked the time. She's slept that long? The day was halfway over; it was after lunch already! She didn't know if she should call him or not; no, she'd surprise him. She stopped long enough to pick up a couple sandwiches, two bottles of coke (or pop), and a few cookies. Yes, that would be nice.

Fred bounced a little in the elevator as she rode it up. As soon as it let her out, she smiled brightly.

"I bring food!" Yes, that seemed like a good way to open it.

The shop was slow today, so Annie was organizing everything. Whomever had run the shop before had just kind of put things on the shelves randomly, and there was hardly anything entered into the computer at all. Not that she minded, really. She could find things by speaking to them. Or speaking to things near them. But it did make it hard on the customers, who always had to come ask her if she had something.

She had music on very loud, some band that had been around way before her time but was popular here. All Annie knew was that it had a nice beat and the singer had a nice voice. Which, she supposed, was all music really needed to be good anyway.

She was also dancing. Not something that she ever did when somebody could see her. Her shop shades were pulled because of the way the sunlight hit directly into the windows when the afternoon came around, so she figured that she was safe.

Annie went from section to section, sorting and placing. Entering items into the computer.

Fred woke up that morning with a plan. She’d found out finally something she felt she should have somehow known. While she’d never had a kid, she had lost people; it was a wonder sometimes how she got out of bed sometimes. Then again, the very reason she might not get out of bed was why she was getting out of bed: Dinah had lost someone. Or more someone had been taken away. She didn’t know how one of the great leggy women of JLC was doing, but she she had decided she’d find out.

The plan was simple, consisting of very few steps.
1. Get up, do the morning thing, be presentable to go out in public.
2. Coffee.
3. Call Jensen to say ‘hi’ and ‘may not be round much today’ - she had a mission.
4. Get food.
5. Get sweets, which do not count as food.
6. Lug all the edible goodness to Dinah’s.

( The plan went well, more or less. )

Dinner had been nice for the most part. Fred had tried not to prolong it more than it needed to be, but she really didn't want what was coming next. She had a feeling it was going to be a very uncomfortable time, when all she wanted was nice and cuddly. After cleaning up the mess they made of Hank's lab, not that it had been much, she went with Jake to his apartment.

She felt a little uncomfortable as she stood just inside the door. Her body itched a little from wanting to take a shower; it was the usual feeling after being beaten up and mended. She was glad there was a doctor near by, and she knew she couldn't just hop in the shower quite yet. Actually she wasn't sure she could do it very well with how her side hurt.

"So, did you see my bruise?" Fred gave him a proud little smile. "I don't think I got too burnt." She glanced at herself, knowing the scorch marks were here and there. She was delaying, just a little longer.

If nothing else came out of the fiasco that had been the League meeting he had gotten pseudo permission to start lacing video cameras all throughout the City. Sort of. He was supposed to be monitoring some big bad vampire dude's movements, ostensibly at his club Fangtasia, a silly name in Jensen's opinion. No one said JUST around Fangtasia, and Jensen felt that this guy was probably cocky and moved around a lot of places so why not have a lot of coverage?

He got Zatanna to put up the cameras near the club since she had mystical teleporting abilities and he didn't. (No sense tempting fate, right?) Everywhere else he was putting up himself. The new search and GPS program was already geared up to take in feed from the cameras once they were activated and triangulate movement. Even if the City started switching around again, Jensen would have his location. Take THAT vampire bitches!

He had put up the last camera for the day and decided he could eat something. He spotted a Chinese restaurant across the street and thought it looked familiar. He couldn't quite place why he knew it, but figured if it stuck out in his mind chances were he liked the place so after checking traffic he jogged across the street, his bag bouncing against the back of his hip.

Oyster food! Fine, he had to admit, he loved it. It had always been a running joke in Wonderland, between he and his colleagues. They'd all heard of it, pizza and pasta and cookies and chicken wings. But to experience it? It was like magic! Well, nothing like magic, really. This ridiculous place was much more like magic. But he dealt with it.

He'd tried pizza with Zee, and it was, admittedly, wonderful. And there'd been other things since he arrived, though he had to admit, pizza was steadily becoming one of Hatter's favorite things ever. Basically, Alice, tea, and pizza. In that order. That didn't stop him from exploring, though!

So when he found himself in front of a little cart advertising the taco things, he figured why not? He'd try anything once. An attitude that had nearly killed him on occasion. Minor details. But they smelled good and if he liked them, he could drag Alice back and make her try them, too. And wouldn't that be brilliant?

Of course, then he'd have to study the person who ordered in front of him to make sure he was doing it right. And he'd have to hope the person ate it there, too, or he'd be completely lost on that, as well.

Fred was grateful for Dinah, but she wasn't in the mood for pasta, even if it was heavenly or orgasmic. The brainy female didn't want anything to eat, which was odd for her perhaps. She didn't want to talk. She didn't want to do anything. Instead, she walked around the City, getting used to the stationary streets. Well, the streets had always been stationary, just not the same sort of stationary. The buildings weren't moving.

She roamed the City streets until dusk; it'd been a while since she felt like this. Actually she wasn't even sure what she felt. Going home she curled up in bed and waited for the sun to rise.

The next day, Fred got out of bed, got cleaned up, and got out of the house. She wasn't in the mood to be strong, but she didn't have much choice. The world wouldn't stop just for her. She really did need to figure out what the world had stopped though. Help to figure it out anyway.

What was she going to do about it? First, she was going to have her go to, and she thought doing it with someone she hoped would give her something to work with. If not that, he was good for a hug...she hoped.

It took her a while to get to the proper diner that served the best waffles. Using the diner's pay phone, she placed the call to her favorite Southern boy.

Fred held on to Dinah as they zoomed - it felt like zooming whether it was or wasn't - through the streets of the City. The brainy female couldn't tell if the ride was longer than it normally would have been. Sure, she could have counted the seconds, figured the time, done something to decide if it was actually longer, but she was thinking more of the feeling. Plus, she was a little mad at the City for deciding to stop moving. Just when she thought she had the pattern figured out, or at least a way to find the pattern.

She walked into the Tower building, thankful Dinah was there and nervous when Dinah left her alone to ride up to see Jensen. She worked through the scenario a few times, and no matter how she worked it, they would fight. Fred really didn't want to fight; she didn't like fighting. She nearly cursed herself for not bringing food or coffee as a preemptive peace offering.

With a soft sigh, the doors opened, and she stepped out. She stood tall, chin lifted, hopefully without looking too challenging or defiant. Just...confident. Hopefully.

Displaying its' cruelty as always, the City had moved the Sherwood Florist right across the street from Harry's office building a few days ago, right after Dinah had left the break-up letter for Harry. She... really wasn't ready to face him. She knew that they'd probably need to talk about it at some point, but she didn't want that to be just because there was a chance running into each other outside of their workplaces.

For that matter, she didn't really want to talk about it at all. She'd done the right thing, as much as it hurt. And she hoped that he would take the little bit of advice she'd given him regarding making things right with Murphy.

She'd waited for the City to shift things again. It usually happened fairly often, but this time it... didn't.

In fact, the entire City had stopped moving. Dinah didn't really know what to make of that, and she wasn't in the mood for yet another puzzle to solve. Not when her mind was still filled with trying to find a way to kill the vampire that had attacked her and threatened Hank.

She was a little bit preoccupied with that, and with trying not to linger too long outside of the florist shop when she left for the day. Since it was the day after Valentine's Day, there was a nice lull to recover from the holiday rush. She looked both ways and then hurried across the street to the only parking spot she could find with her motorcycle, hoping that she wouldn't run into Harry before she could get to the bike itself.

Dr. McCoy. Dr. Henry 'Hank' McCoy had given her a check up. He was young, but that didn't matter. He had given her a check up. Fred still felt a little strange about it a couple days later; not bad strange, just strange. Sure, she'd stood near the U.S.S. Enterprise. She might have talked to more than one superhero who liked wearing spandex, but this was Beast. Or a Beastette? He was the really smart one other than maybe Forge. Okay, so there were quite a few intelligent comic book types, but Beast had always been her comic book crush. Now he was just downstairs from a guy who...Fred still wasn't sure what to make of Jake Jensen.

"This would be so much easier if..." she paused as she thought the rest of that out. "No, no, it wouldn't be easier if Wesley, Charles, or Angel were here. Maybe if Cordy showed up, but then she'd probably want him, or maybe she wouldn't. She'd probably like Jack Poor Jack." Her brows furrowed as she walked along in the park, ignoring anyone who looked at her while she talked to herself.

"He probably thinks I'm awful. I am awful, look at what I did. I kinda dump him, then he does sweet things, then I officially dump him. Or maybe he dumped me. Cause he did sort of walk away, but I didn't try to make him stay. Course, I really just wanted to take him into my place, Angel's place - I can't have sex there ever, can I? But, I didn't want to be his girlfriend, maybe I did. Just not the mayor's girlfriend. You could have waited to see if he would stay mayor -yea, but how long does he stay mayor? For as long as he's here." She stopped. "Oh, if you just jinxed him, Winifred Burkle...

"Right, so there's that. Then there's Jake. He breaks in, I drug him. I molest him sort of. He sues us. Kinda. What do I do, I end up getting kissy with him. Sexy times. Well, not full on sexy times. I cannot have sex in the Tower. That's not right. But, do I want to be his girlfriend? Is it fair? Is he rebound boy? Why are you asking me?" She looked at herself in the reflective surface of the hot dog vendor's cart.

"Hi, I'll have one please, just mustard today, thank you." Thankfully the vendor didn't seem to mind her personal conversation, and just gave her the dog as ordered. This was how Fred Burkle was going to spend her day.

Hank looked over his electronic message once more before he hit send from one of the computers in his new laboratory. It was a simple request for the team members to contact him to make appointments for physicals and blood samples, so Hank wouldn't have to deal with the varied people blindly in case of emergency. There was medical data he needed to know before medical treatment was required, blood samples to take and keep, abilities and medical histories to discuss. He was a professional, after all, and this was the main reason Dinah had reached out to him. Attached to the end of the notice was also a quite offering of assistance in the creation of tactical uniforms (he didn't like the word 'costumes') to conceal identity and control or amplify any natural abilities they used in the feild. Some members (at least, the ones who had been heroes in their past lives) already had protective outfits, but after the Mayor's condemnation of the Justice League's actions Hank had become uncomfortably aware that it might be something all world-venturing team members might want for matters of personal safety.

He hadn't done anything about his own possiblity except a rudimentary yellow and black outfit that was built to let him move unhindered, with an attachable pack on the back to carry medical supplies in case he was needed. It was hung on one wall at the moment, a simple example of his ability to manufacture an outfit that hopefully didn't look too campy.

His brow furrowed at the last part of the message and he grunted, hitting 'send' before he could overthink the matter. It was his job to look after the health of the team, and in his mind the uniform offer of help went along with that, now that he had the lab fully equiped to handle the team's medical needs. And who knew, parthaps even the already outfitted members of the group would like enhancements. Everyone except the Batman fellow, who just unnerved Hank. The full body suit was hiding something, the boy could tell, though he couldn't put his finger on what, yet.

Finished with the message he pushed back from the computer station, his wheeled chair moving swiftly and easily over to one of the broad, oversized tables that didn't have designated hardware on them. Climbing out of the chair he sat in the middle of the table, which otherwise was ammassed with bits and pieces of electronics, tools, wires, and spare bits of metal. He picked up a small device he'd been working on and strapped it onto his wrist, turning towards a full length mirror he'd put on the wall temporarily, clicking a button on the wristband.

"Ouch," he winced, the electric shock that came from the band taking him somewhat by surprise. It stopped, though, and as he watched his reflection it started to become fuzzy, then slowly dissintegrate into a patchy, unfocused set of sparkling colors, flickering in and out. Hank's lip twitched and he turned off the device, his physical image in the mirror reverting back to the normal picture of a gangly, skinny boy in doctor's clothing. This image inducer technology was exciting, but so far he couldn't even get close to a human-like image to lay over whoever wore the wristband. As a method of protection it didn't seem like it would be a readily available disguise.

Hank picked up some tools and opened the device, starting to fiddle with the contents, loosing himself in the innovation and trying to push out thoughts of his cure out of his mind. He was still waiting for things to settle, still waiting to see what his place in the team might be. He hadn't really interacted with any of them since their initial mission, but he trusted that soon they'd come to an understanding and he'd be able to better guage the best time for him to try the solution out. In the meantime he'd do his best to contribute to the team by working on his technology, a task which he lost himself in easily for hours and even days without noting a change in his surroundings.

(Continuation of this happy meeting)

The look didn't fade as Fred heard what was only a partial apology if it was one at all. She looked at him a little longer before walking on. She'd lost her appetite, which was saying something. The two men who she thought were pretty special and good had turned into real asshats as she'd heard Dean call some jerk he'd had to deal with once. They had forgotten completely what it meant to be good guys. She knew that good guys didn't always have to be nice, soft, fluffy puppies, but they had turned into real jerks. And, over something completely out of either of their hands.

"It wasn't right. What you did. It wasn't right. Not that what he did was right either. What y'all said, not so much what he did. It's not like he had a choice not to put the statement out. It hurt, but you don't say things like that. You don't say things like that to people who could help you." She wasn't going to cry; she refused to cry. She wouldn't do it.

She was starting to wish she had worn a jacket because she wanted to wrap something around herself, nice and tight. She opted for her arms for a little bit as she walked. She stopped once more; a few tears were already going down her cheeks.

"You two should be friends or pleasant acquaintances because he could make things very difficult. I know you could make his life uncomfortable, too. And what you said. That last part. That was really mean. I was there. I was standing right there when you said it. You don't say things like that when people are standing there. I was okay with it, you know that? Or maybe I wasn't okay with it because they didn't think I was his girlfriend or pretty enough to get a picture with him, but that's not really the point. The point is I was okay with the mix up because he wasn't really with her. And then you go and say that. Like I wouldn't care if you would say something like that. I do." Fred just looked at him, waiting for something more than an apology possibly. She didn't how he could even start to make a difference in what was said and what she felt, but she knew that she was hurt.

Fred had continued to come help Jensen in the comm central of the Clocktower after their...understanding. Of course Jensen had occassionally turned on the little boy charm to pout at her just enough to ask that she come back. To help. Yep! Helping was now defined with randomly snitched smooches. Suddenly his job didn't suck quite so much.

Today there were some final beta tests being run to make sure he had all of the critical programs working properly with his OS. That meant there was no time on their hands. Part of him was tempted to see how far Fred was willing to take those smooches, but decided he should probably behave himself and take them on a coffee run. All of the cups, makers and cupboards were bare of the essential goodness anyway so he suggested they go get some together. Maybe grab a sandwich while they were at it. He whined that he was running on empty as they left.

His goofiness increased the more fresh air he got. He didn't get out enough lately. It led to Fred getting her ribs tweaked from behind and him looming over her shoulder as he made to bite at her neck and spoke in a cheesy Dracula accent. "Perhaps you still have some caffiene in your blood system."

Jo hadn't seen Dean since New Years'. Not that she actually expected anything differently. This was the guy who had once told her he'd 'call' and then essentially disappeared (and even died and then come back to life) for about 3 years.

He'd promised to show her around sometime and maybe introduce her to some of the people he knew here, but she wasn't going to hold her breath. She was hoping to meet Fred, the woman who was giving him cases. Dean had only told her about Fred well after midnight and after quite a few drinks. She supposed that he didn't exactly want her tagging along on hunts. She also wasn't going to try to poach Dean's leads or anything along those lines, but she was still a bit curious about the idea of a detective agency set up specifically to help people deal with supernatural threats.

All the same, Jo didn't exactly go looking for Angel Investigations. She had just taken to exploring the City. She was still a little bit thrown off by the moving streets and buildings, but it was just another obstacle to push through. And the best way to get used to it was to actually get out there and explore it.

So she hadn't been looking for Angel Investigations, but apparently the City had wanted it found all the same. When Jo turned a corner and her gaze fell on the small office building that was labelled as Angel Investigations, she couldn't help but wander over to it.

She pushed open the door, which was unlocked.

"Hello? Anybody here?" she called out.

King Kong was contained. All was calm again which meant it was back to working through the systems to orient them with his programs. It was a time consuming process that required his attention for the most part. This translated to junk food, stimulant beverages and snacks. While he ran one of the systems through a beta test with his OS he did a fuel run for coffee, donuts and reading material. (See: skin and/or gossip rags.) A half hour later he was back in the lab successful.

The beta was still running so he sat at the station with his feet up on the console, box of donuts in his lap, ginormous coffee cup at his elbow and the latest rumor mill in hand. He hadn't looked closely at it when he grabbed it along with Busty Redheads with Guns or the errand might have taken longer. He was getting an eyeful now though.

There on the front page was Fred in a liplock with apparently the City mayor. He blinked with his jaw falling open barely comprehending the headline of Has the Mayoral Heart Been Filled Once More?!. Once it did penetrate the haze of buh his brain was seized on he read through the article. Half way into his his legs dropped from the console with his jaw closing finally. By the end of it he'd lost interest in the rest of the rag and the skin mag, tossing the latter to the side while he ate his donut in thought filled silence.

Bringing down King Kong had been more than a little crazy. At times there seemed to be too many people calling the shots; at others not enough. Then there were the people, the heroes, the big giant monkey. It was definitely crazy. Fred had spent the whole time in the Tower, helping Jensen and doing some of the more menial computer work. She did miss being the “Oracle,” but Jensen seemed to have it covered. Soon, she wouldn’t be needed even there. She wasn’t sure how she felt about that.

She wasn’t sure about much of anything lately, and she was beginning to think that was her problem. It was one thing to be definite, to know what she wanted, but lately she didn’t. Breaking it off with Jack had seemed like a good idea, and she was still pretty certain that it was. Yet, there were times she started asking herself the “what ifs,” which everyone knew that “what ifs” when it came to emotions and relationships were often a very bad idea. Science and invention and sometimes even cooking or eating which was slightly scientific, “what ifs” were good to ask and try to make happen.

Life would have been so much easier if she’d stuck with the science rather than the emotion. Yet, she wasn’t able to get away from those darn things, ( emotions. )