Reality Crisis

So what do you do when you end up in an apocalyptic alternate world that looks at you like you're some sort of foreseen savior? Well you sure as hell don't go to Disneyland.

Since ending up here she and King were put in an arena with control collars on to play gladiator, met Batman and Superman, were cursed by a fairy, and had to deal with a rain of frogs, snakes and spiders as big as a hubcap.

There were a few good people around here and a few that she really didn't like. Other than that it seemed like a kind of pointless wandering around for the next weird thing to hit so they could deal with it and distract themselves. Abby was starting to think that they needed to find something to do like their old hunting group just so they had a reason to get up and get moving in the mornings. So far she hadn't really mentioned it to King. Abby hated to put that unhappy look on his face and she wasn't sure if he was feeling that same itch to jump into something like more hunting just to keep busy. Yes, he had to be kept busy because he was the poster child for ADHD compulsive behavior but that didn't mean he'd want to hunt.

There was an open space near the wall of the city where she'd set up a target range for her bow so she could keep in practice. When she really needed to move around Abby would take her things out there and shoot for a while. It was a very zen turn off your mind sort of thing to shoot a bow. Each draw of the arrow, slow breath of air out of your lungs then release cleared the mind. The solid smack of the arrow into the bullseye each time didn't hurt either.

Once her quiver was empty she walked over to start pulling the arrows out of the target so she could start again.

The evening with Jack hadn't gone quite as planned. By the time Peter realized that "a drink" meant Jack was trying to drink him under the table, the man had already been slurring. There was no catching up - not with the rate at which Peter's body burned through the alcohol. So he'd managed to keep the man awake long enough to guide Jack home. After that, Jack had blacked out, and Peter had gotten him into the bed, removed his shoes and that heavy coat, and taken an hour or so of sleep on a couch.

It was late when he started wandering the streets again. There had been work done, people trying to clear the streets of vermin, leaving corpses in a fee intersections. Peter wrinkled his nose. As the vermin decayed, that would spread disease around. Maybe there was a plan in place to take care of that, but he was restless enough to consider options.

It was late. Dark. No one seemed to be lingering in the streets. He supposed everyone had someplace to sleep. Maybe that deal with the leader of this place.

He marched up to the pile and used telekinesis to sweep the newly fallen creatures in place with the others. From there, it was just a matter of placing a shield around the pile, and setting it on fire.

The fire was bright and hot, but short-lived. It burned the corpses to ash before burning itself out. No smoke escaped until Peter lifted the shield, but the traces would be gone by morning. Peter headed for another intersection to repeat the process.

She was still very sore from getting punched in the ribs by the stupid vampire but it was to the point where she knew she'd start to feel better if she started getting back into her routine. Besides, King would probably like to have some personal space again since she'd been her usual clingy injured self.

Normally she didn't like to be like that but when she got hurt it was kind of all bets off.

The gym here wasn't that great but it had some mats on the floor so she'd kicked her shoes off and started stretching out. At first that was sheer misery but as the blood got flowing and moving she could feel things limbering up and relaxing.

Five flights of stairs with freshly cracked ribs was never going to be her favorite thing. Especially since the plan hadn't been to run into anything in the first place. Of course seeing Dean get jumped she couldn't have stayed out of it.

She was definitely going to have to talk to Hannibal about having share time with the other hunters to be more prepared. Sure their vamps were tough but there was more here. Like the stupid ass faries that liked to turn people into things.

She opened the door to the apartment they shared and gratefully put her things down. "Hey I'm back."

Dean honestly had nothing against Fred, and in a way he had nothing against her with Sam. But, that didn't mean he wanted to hang around the apartment while the pair do their thing. He wasn't even sure if there was a thing to have, so he just decided to get out. He wasn't going far, but he couldn't stand being behind the walls of the city anymore. He was used to being on the move, and as much as he loved his time with Ben and Lisa, he had still felt the need to roam.

Tonight, he was walking a patrol of sorts around the wall. He'd brought a few of the essentials: holy water, his big knife, a smaller silver one, a machete, a pistol, a shot gun. He was more or less set. Fred may have joked about carrying a wooden stake, but he doubted he would meet any demigods or godlings running around. He was as prepared as he was going to be. He didn't think he'd see much as rumored reports of Netvors had the damn things further away from the city. Then again, who knew what the reports really said as they came from Belly. He didn't throw that woman any further than he could throw her.

It seemed like a quiet enough night, and Dean had gone in the opposite direction of the enchanted wood with its huge rodents. He aimed for the more open area. Now he just had to see what sort of trouble he'd get into.

There had been someone in the traveling group that was able to show Hannibal what to do when it came to making the nettles into 'threads' then weave it. They'd even shown him how to make a little home made loom he could use. Pretty much all he had to do was make it into squares and stick it together long enough to put it on her so it wasn't going to take a lot of expertise just determination.

And determination was Hannibal's middle name.

When she was human after he'd mangle his hands she'd doctor them up as best that she could and when she was a deer she stayed close by just to be a supporting presence. It was all she was able to do and that sucked! Having to rely on someone else to fix things wasn't how she normally worked. Of course it wasn't Hannibal's way to not say anything either.

"Looks like it's almost done." She was watching him struggle with getting the piece off the loom and put her hand on the back of his neck lightly. His poor hands were a mess. Just looking at them made her wince.

Being a deer sucked. She could see practically all the way around her with her stupid eyes stuck on the sides of her head and her big flappy ears kept distracting her which meant she shook them a lot.

Abby ended up at the window watching the sun going down hoping like hell that they weren't kidding about spending her nights as a person because SHE WANTED HER HANDS BACK.

As soon as the sun slipped below the horizon the deer shimmered and Abby was back on two feet, swaying slightly as she got used to the change of balance. The skirts that seemed to have shown up for some reason didn't help. Looking down she let out an exasperated noise at her outfit. She was wearing the laced up overdress and chemise of a peasant girl apparently.

"Really? Wasn't the damn deer thing bad enough?"

Something was going on outside the city. Apparently these woods sprang up over night and weird shit was going on. Weird enough to get his and Abby's attention and make them want to investigate. Correction: make HER want to investigate. He was going along to make sure she didn't get into trouble. He was all for holing up where they were being allowed to live and just being slack. Whistler, on the other hand, preferred action and helping. Fuck.

"Okay. So let me get this straight." He followed her towards the walls around the city. "Some creepy ass Scooby Doo trees grow up and you want to go play Bilbo on his way to Mount Doom."

Abby wasn't quite sure she knew what to do in an apartment anymore. At least they had running water here so she got cleaned up and scrubbed the clothes she'd been captive in so hopefully she could wear them again someday. One set of used but clean clothes later she'd put all her knives on, hung the UV arc on her belt and made sure her bow and all the equipment were in working order and left on the table. Then she went to go see how Hannibal was doing.

They'd put him in the apartment next to hers. Technically they were used to sharing a space when hunting but if this put his jittery sugar high self far enough away he didn't interrupt her sleep by yelling at things or breaking them, or watching what passed for bad tv here she was good with that.

"King you in there?"

It seemed to be an ordinary night in New Troy. The prisoners had been dumped back into their cells after they'd been sedated at the end of the battle royale. The ratings had been higher than ever for the airings of the battle. New Troy was fortunate to still have working electricity to some extent and a lot of effort went into making sure appropriate entertainment was lined up to keep its' citizens happy and distracted from the fact that their world was crashing down all around them.

There were guards stationed watching the entrances, and a few scattered inside the wall. There were currently only two guards outside the cells where the chosen were being kept prisoner. All of them had been left in their cells without any medical attention. Dr. Lucius was already thinking about the next bout of entertainment and was content to let them suffer in their maimed states for awhile. They had been getting too organized. They'd been thinking for themselves too much.

Unfortunately for New Troy, none of the guards saw the rescuers coming until it was too late...

The prisoners were getting restless. Worse than that, they had time to recover in between fights. During that time, they'd begun to talk.

Too much talking meant that it would be easier for them to fight off the effects of the drugs. It meant that they might find a loophole around the security and make an escape attempt.

It also meant that the time was nearing when he would have to rid the city of them all.

For now, Dr. Lucius chose to give his people a spectator sport to truly capture their hearts, minds and imaginations.

He instructed his guards to put all of the prisoners in the ring, along with some of the creatures that they'd captured out in the wilds. He had plans in place to make sure that none of the prisoners would die in the ring. No, that might turn public sentiment away from these little bouts of entertainment. However, he had no problem with any of them getting maimed. If they died later in their cells, away from the public eye, that was just fine by him.

Spike's consciousness started to clear as he was shoved into a small, dank cell. He hit the ground, grunting slightly as he rolled over, the loud banging of the cell door being shut and locked.

He slowly rolled over, blinking as his vision, blurry and jumping for a moment before it slowly came in. It was an effect he had experienced before, not in quite the same way, but….

He slowly looked up, then grunted. Definitely a cell. Small, and with firm looking bars. He pulled himself up, then got to his feet, staggering slightly as pain washed over him. "Whoa… oh, sod it…." he limped forward and grabbed the cell doors, tugging at them. No give, not even a slight budge. "Oh, not again."

Though… this wasn't the Initiative. No. Not nearly shiny and reflective enough to be those buggers again, even if they had somebody popped back up after they were left in ruins. He remembered they were obsessed with sanitation, and that was not… wherever this was. He did somewhat feel like he did after they took him, though, his entire body hurt and his head was a mess. If they'd stuck another chip in there….

"Oi. OI! Who's out there? Where am I?!" he shouted, but to no answer, and his head felt like it was about to split open. He couldn't see much from his cage door, and as another wave of nausea overcame him he buckled, leaning against the door then closed his eyes and tried to remember what had happened. He remembered the streets of Los Angeles, stalking a big demon from the ocean depths. He remembered catching up to the mountain of scales and muscles and a long, drawn out beating that had left him victorious, but only just barely. He'd stumbled back, unconscious before he hit the ground….

Then it was rock. Rock, and strange smells, and he couldn't see properly. There things everywhere, flying around him then focusing around a pair of demons he'd never seen before. He was someplace new, not even any of the smells had been right, but his life was in danger and he did what came natural to him. He fought until one of them blasted the hell out of him with some shrieking power, it felt like it was going to rip his entire body apart. His hand shot up to his ears, at that memory, and came away red. He was still bleeding, if he'd been human he'd have been dead long before. Even as it was he wasn't sure he'd be alive if the shouting had continued much longer.

And now he was here, somehow, locked up… He pulled off his coat and pulled up his shirt, looking down at himself. He was still messed up from the battle, the scars were fresh, but he'd be fine. He sat down heavily, back still against the bars. No use doing anything but looking, listening, maybe calling out once more, touching his ears and then tasting the blood. At least part of the nausea now was hunger… he had to find something to eat. Soon.

"Whoever the hell is trying something, you should know my captors tend to end up in little bitty pieces all over the sodding room. And I've only gotten grumpier and meaner the more times it's happened!"