Reality Crisis

John had been methodically going through the city, taking stock of everything. It was a habit he'd gotten into, around once a week he did as thorough a check as he could without being too obvious to the residents or his family. Just a routine check to make sure all was well, going a bit more in-depth at times than was usual for a governing body. If a house looked different or felt off he infiltrated, if people seemed to be acting odd he followed them. True, he could only act at night, but he found that most strange things happened after the sun left the sky, so he was generally around when something went down.

The reasons were simple enough. This world had tried and tested him every time he got comfortable, and as more of his humanity slipped away he felt both more powerful and more vulnerable, and more likely to track everything going on around him, supernatural or not.

Still, it seemed quiet for the most part, and even though he'd lost track of his sister and Eric in the last few days he was sure that they would all continue to benefit from his diligence being added to the usual standards. Not that they weren't diligent, but many eyes made for fewer misses, so he'd lend his to the community to keep it as safe as possible.

For now he was heading down the main street, hands in his pockets, testing the scents and sounds of the area to make sure everything was normal. Or as normal as it could be in a world like this.

Work. Hard work. Pam wasn't exactly opposed to hard work, but she did like having more time off than on. She wasn't lazy, far from it. So, there she was building and repairing as she was expected. She was dirty and cut, and if she bruised, she'd be that as well. Yet, she worked on. Her Maker had put her to work after all. A few rare times she would find one or two of the humans who hadn't been found in the earlier round up before the world went off; her small frame let her get into places that her larger younger sibling and Maker could not. Not even Aidan who didn't exactly have their size could.

It was on one such occasion, though they were few, that Pam was emerging from what could have been a building once. She'd found a missing mother and child; the whimpering child was annoying, but it was another human that would one day feed the vampires and keepers of New Troy. Mel had yet to get to this section of the city, so Pam did not fault the mutant for not finding them first. The mother had hunkered down in a secure spot deep within a building, a building that was no more. It looked more like leftover rubble from a time before.

The child and mother were taken away to be looked after. Pam stared at the scrape on her arm as if she didn't understand. It had happened as she was pushing one slab away only to be almost crushed by another.

"This was schedule for demolition." Her eyes still on the scrape. "We were going to rebuild it. She'll be staying in the house we used." Her words were soft, but they were meant for John Tudor not far off.

Melody slept fitfully.

It was difficult to change her sleep schedule to match that of the vampires, but she wanted to spend time with them, and so she was doing her best. Her body disliked that she slept through the bright daylight hours, and her mind often showed her strange dreams to compensate. Eventually, she knew, everything would adjust.

A scene unfolded before her, that of fighting. It wasn't an all out war, or even what she would call a battle. There were a few of them, and her with somebody else. She turned to see who the presence was that she felt, and saw John with her. Something in her heart told her that somebody was missing. Somebody that she cared about deeply.

She reached out with her powers, feeling stronger than she ever had, and tore the life out of a man who was running directly toward her. She reveled in his death and felt herself fill up with every ounce of the death energy he held. She'd been able to tell, so easily, that he'd already been dying. And it had taken her so little effort to push him over the brink. To claim him as her own. His lifeless body lay in a crumpled heap where he'd fallen. Melody knew that she should feel something about this, yet she did not.

It was as if the loss she felt had made her stone.

Mel looked back toward John again.

Aidan approached the gates of New Troy as the sun was going down. He could have traveled the distance between the two settlements much faster if he'd wanted to, but he'd dragged his feet instead.

After meeting with Dinah, he'd found a quiet cave-like rock structure to feed in, the curse ripping through him the whole time he drained the bag. After he was done, he'd slept. Right there on the ground. Aidan hadn't thought it was possible that he would sleep so soon after what he'd been through, he'd thought he wouldn't ever be able to sleep again.

When he woke, he'd had no idea how much time had passed, only that he needed to move out of the cave. And he was very sore, with possible permanent rock indentations in his back. He'd known that at least a day had gone by, since his footprints in the snow were covered over with fresh powder.

As he looked up at the gates and the guards, Aidan decided that he was going to try to not immediately hate this. He was going to give New Troy a fair chance. Just because he didn't know many people inside didn't mean he couldn't get to know them.

John, having thankfully dodged the plague of immaturity that seemed to strike many of the humans in the town, had carefully resumed eating regularly and fully and taken to patrolling the edges of New Troy.

He was enjoying continuing the sparring with his sister, but found himself looking forward to seeing Aidan next, if the other vampire ever returned to New Troy. John was envious of his abilities on some level, but also he was glad to have somebody else who could relate to still being reluctant to fully embrace what seemed like a traditional outlook on vampirism. Somebody who didn't scoff at the other holding onto bits of humanity.

The former soldier looked towards the moon, wondering what Aidan's fighting techniques were. John was itching to go against somebody other than Pam, to see if he really was improving at all in his hand to hand techniques.

John had settled into a fairly consistent pattern over the last few weeks. He had gotten used to the habit of waking, feeding, then working out. Training his vampiric senses and honing his hunting skills. When Pam would practice with him he worked on fighting, learning to move against a smaller, faster opponent and working out on heavy hitting They seemed important to his sire and older night sibling. And, really, in this world those abilities were bound to be put to the test sooner or later. He wanted to be ready, to protect the humans of this world, and to protect his new family if they were threatened.

Despite himself the initial bond created by his turning had grown. He felt a much deeper sense of loyalty towards Eric and Pam. He listened and learned from them and had started asking more questions about the world they came from. He knew the chances of anybody from this world returning home were slim to none, but he now found himself hoping that if they were sent back he would be sent along with his sire. He certainly didn't want to be the only vampire in his world.

This night was different only in the sense that he was ready to take a break from training and relax. He'd gone into the woods and hunted some of the smaller critters for practice, just to keep the metaphorical blood pumping, but then he'd returned to the city and taken out his guitar. He'd started to play in a nitch on the rooftops, finding it much less likely to draw anybody's attention. He didn't play too loudly, though he knew either of the other vampires could easily hear him if they wanted to. But being up high kept the humans out of his way and gave him the added benefit of keeping a lookout. Since he'd started training regularly again he'd also found it natural to take up watch shifts. It wasn't a bad idea on this world anyway, and fit into the habits he gained from his soldiering days.

Strumming a simple tune he stared out towards the edge of the city, not playing anything specifically. Just enjoying the sound of the music as he wondered what would come over that wall someday, throwing itself at a bunch of people who just wanted to survive and rebuild their world. John didn't doubt that it would come, the only real question would be the shape.

Pam gave the woman one more nuzzle, healing the two small wounds on the donor's neck. It was possibly somewhat affectionate, but it seemed to help the donors. It made them believe they were cherished. Then again, it was a little like petting a cow after milking it. Or petting it as it feeds, fattening up before the slaughter? Pam wasn't sure; she'd never had to bother with the cows after all.

"Remember to have an extra portion for dinner and to rest. You've the day off tomorrow." She didn't need to glamour the woman; she didn't glamour the volunteers unless she needed to, say like when the pastor had been turned. The donor left, and Pam sat for a moment, relaxing in her seemingly all too prim and stiff way. As she "relaxed," she heard something. It was a sound she'd not heard in the building before, and one she hadn't heard in any building for some time.

She rose, brushing out her skirt, and headed out of the sitting room to find why such a noise existed. Who would bother with it here? She sped through the house, peeking into different rooms, and came to a full stop when she found who would do..that.

"How very human of you." She took up a lean in the doorway. She looked more like a school girl than a vampire edging ever faster to multiple centuries old.

John had had a very... sorted past couple of days. After returning to Eric's home, now his home, John had stayed in his room for everything but the feedings. He found everything Eric had spoken of about their habits to be true, and resented him for it. He saw the older vampire for the feedings, though he was nearly at the point where he could start to try by himself. He chose to stay alone and contemplate the change in his own time.

After a while, however, cabin fever set in, and one night he left his room and went to test his powers. He'd come to the solution that, as long as he didn't have to kill or steal blood to survive, the worse sin would be suicide. So for the moment, he'd have to make the best of the situation he found himself in.

He left the town, heading out into the wild to experiment with his new power. His strength and speed were certainly fun to play with. John had always enjoyed physical exercise, and found that even he couldn't help but grin as he lapped the city faster than any car he'd ever seen would be able to.

John woke up to the amazingly powerful scent of dirt, and a crushing darkness and weight. He moved his arms impulsively, finding whatever was keeping him down was shiftable, and instinctively started digging and clawing to what some part of him knew to be upwards. A panic that he wasn’t able to breathe spurred him onwards, moving as fast as possible, and quickly his fingers broke through and into air, and he clawed his way out of the dirt. As he found himself in fresh air he inhaled sharply, spitting out some soil and crawling until he was on firm, unshifted earth.

He shook his head and quickly wiped his eyes clean, mind racing and reeling simultaneously. Survival focused him on his surroundings, and he lifted his head. The scent of wherever he was was amazing, as was the detail his eyes were catching and the sounds finding their way into his ears. He was definitely in a night-set forest, but it was a completely new forest he was quite sure he’d never seen before.

Next his mind went to his physical well being. Apart from needing to focus on keeping his breathing steady and continuous he didn’t seem to be harmed. He wasn’t even feeling pain from being deprived of oxygen for so long. In fact, as his mind slowed and sharpened he realized that aches and pains that had bothered him for years were gone. He felt... fantastic.

He blinked, looking down at himself, then slowly shook out his clothes and hair, the soil that fell seeming louder but not heavier than usual.

The pastor lifted his gaze then, and suddenly his eyes fell on a figure standing just above him that he hadn’t noticed before. Eric.

In a flash the last memories before he passed out flashed before his eyes, and nearly electrified the Texan, who leapt to his feet and back a ways, stumbling from a speed he wasn’t used to.

“What happened?” he demanded, voice slightly higher pitched from stress and fury. He looked around for Pam, as if she were trying to get the jump on him from behind, and then his gaze went down to the turned earth that, strangely enough, he could smell Eric on. And himself. He blinked a few times, trying to work it out, his mind steadfastly ignoring the obvious truth. “Where are we?”

( --- )

John couldn’t tell if he was grateful to be back on the dead world or not. On one hand, he didn’t like being yanked back and forth. On the other, life had been much more modern, comfortable, and safe seeming back in the City. On the first, it wasn’t as difficult to carve out a place for himself here as it was there. And it seemed that this place needed him more, even if those here didn’t like him.

After a short time reaffirming his duty schedule and the layout of die Festung, John had decided to go on a trip. He’d heard of the other major city, New Troy, and had felt some curiosity towards the place. but since coming back to this world the curiosity and urge to go see it had started to increase steadily. John didn’t think that was too odd. It was probably just going to the City, then being returned that made him curious as to what other locations might be around here.

So, after putting together a supply bag and hiking out through the woods, John came upon the other City, and after gaining entry he looked around, interest perked. He’d heard the place had run some gladiator-type games in the past, using the Chosen as contestants. But apparently it was under new management, though he hadn’t heard much about who ran things here now.

He’d misjudged how long it took to get here, but it was still only just dark as he walked down what appeared to be the main street, wondering how difficult it would be to secure a roof for the night. He pulled the bag up on his back a little higher, investigating the town a bit before he picked a place to try and find shelter.

( - - - )

John walked the perimeter of the town, a rifle slung high over his shoulder.

He hadn't meant to keep patrolling ,especially once the weird effect on his senses and mind had died down. He'd settled down and started to sleep more peacefully again, and didn't feel the need to be on the move, but it seemed that once you got on the guard rotation they didn't want to let you go. And John wasn't the sort to turn down a request for his help.

The weapon on his back was natural, as a part of him as his boots and collar. Sure, it was a time from his past that he tried to move on from, but he never denied the service he'd been part of. He was proud of his accomplishments and thankful that the military had turned his life around, even if he'd left it for more peaceful pursuits.

So, when they asked for him again, he'd accepted and showed up, even when the man who was supposed to act as his partner for the shift didn't. That didn't bother the pastor too much, and he'd set off on his patrol anyway, just glad that whatever had been affecting him earlier was gone. It was probably some of the food he'd eaten, and he'd resolved to take more care with what he ate and what he passed up here. Quite frankly, he didn't like being all hopped up and unable to sleep without having very inappropriate, if enjoyable, dreams.

The night air pushed his hair to the side, and he took a deep breath. The woods weren't that bad. Neither was the city. He'd been worse places with much worse people, and it was cathartic to be on the move again. Relaxing, even if every sense he had was straining and keeping alert for any sign of movement from the treeline.

Kitty was nervous. She'd been out helping clean up, and she'd come back to a note. The Russian had gone off and would be back. Wasn't this how their troubles started? He'd go off and then not come back? So, as it grew closer and closer to nightfall, she finally gave in and sent Lockheed out looking for the Russian.

The Fortress's remaining X-man decided to take up guard duty. She didn't get too much of a reaction from her request other than a look. Kitty didn't look like she could do much sometimes, but the girl had been trained by some of the deadliest warriors of her world. She was not one to mess with, or that's what she told herself as she took up a spot not far from the gate. She remembered that she'd met him near the forested area, and that was where she stood to watch. Plus, Lockheed seemed to think the man of living steel was that way.

She had been able to scrounge up a couple blades and a handgun. She opted for leaving the cloak back in the apartment. Today she went for borrowed camo and weapons. It would do, even if it wasn't her usual fighting uniform.

John was exhausted. He'd spent the day helping to clean up the carcasses of their disturbing rain. There was good progress being made, but not quite fast enough to keep up with the stench of death in some places. Even on reptiles the smell brought back very unpleasant memories, so even though his body ached from an unusual amount of work, when it came time togo home he instead went out for a walk.

He had struggled a usual amount with some of the more intense action from his past, but John had always found a lot of comfort in his faith and int he teachings of the bible. Even reading the book helped to calm him when he was having a difficult day or night, and he'd certainly had a bad few days. Everybody had.

Finding a quiet spot outside where he could see the stars, the pastor found a seat on a bench. He'd been working and reading for a long while now, so it was nice to just sit, to think on everything that had happened. To reflect, as he looked up at the stars, hands folded neatly in his lap. He was still a solider, though he didn't hold himself like one quite as much anymore. He'd chosen a bench that might have seamed out in the open, but it was with its back to a wall and had a clear view of the street in both directions, near enough to a bar that if anything happened he could find shelter. It was also in the dark, which allowed his eyes to adjust to the light without any nearby street or building lights. It kept him from being high lighted or left an easy target.

Even in the relative safety of the city he was watching out for himself, if only as a trained response to being in a less than stable environment.

Oliver had always been a light sleeper. He'd had to be, considering the life of his alter-ego. He had to be ready to wake up and fight if someone discovered his identity, or was just stupid enough to break into his apartment. But this morning, he'd awakened suddenly at the sound of a dull thud. And then another. And another after that.

Feeling confused, he sat up on the sofa, wondering why he'd fallen asleep there instead of in his bed, but quickly forgetting his train of thought when he heard another dull thud from above. He frowned, looking upward and then pausing when he caught a glimpse outside his window. He was pretty sure he'd just seen a couple of snakes and a toad fall past. And then another couple.

Blinking, he made his way to the window, looking down at the ground. Sure enough, hundreds of reptiles and amphibians were crawling all over the ground; others had simply splattered. He rubbed a hand over his face, wondering if he was still asleep and having some kind of bizarre dream.

But no. He was pretty sure he was awake.

He strode quickly toward the door to his apartment and made his way down the steps and into the lobby of the complex, staring out. They were everywhere.

"Well, this can't be good," he muttered.

Wet.

He tried to inhale, and water filled his mouth and nose. Bruce erupted in a fit of coughing, and jerked his head to the side. His face had been half submerged in a puddle. He spat out a mouthful of muddy water and opened his eyes. What he saw didn't make him feel much better. Concrete streets and sidewalks overrun with grass and foliage, half collapsed skyscrapers towering all around him.

Bruce pulled his aching body up from the ground, looking around him in awe. "Alright..." he said evenly, going over the last thing he remembered. Stark Tower, the lab, 2:30 in the morning. My research. Time for coffee. Then a point of light, tearing across the wall. The Tesseract? Similar, but it lacked the blue-hue. And none of my Gamma instruments gave any kind of warning. A portal of some kind. And then- white. All white.

Bruce paced up to what had once been an intersection, and looked down one street, then the next, then the next. In every direction it was the same thing. Empty streets, cracked pavement, rodents and small game grazing next to traffic signals and deserted vehicles. He thought about yelling, but his instincts prevented him. The gravity of the situation began to dawn on him. "Right, so I'm alone, in what looks like a major metropolitan city. Aaand it's deserted..." He nodded, interlacing his fingers, turning in circles as he considered his predicament.

This isn't right... A sinking feeling came to his stomach, the kind that happened when the data was inevitably pointing in a direction the researcher didn't want it to. Bruce was too well read to have missed a major city of this size suddenly being deserted. The vegetation suggested it had been this way for some time- at least a year at his best guess.

"So there are three possible explanations, " Bruce muttered to himself. "One, that I've been away long enough for some disaster to strike, for a major city to be deserted, and for vegetation to overrun it. Two, that I'm experiencing some sort of hallucination, or have finally lost my goddamned mind. Or three, that I'm not on Earth at all...". He thought about Thor and Loki- maybe this was one of the nine realms they talked about? He took a deep breath for a moment, closing his eyes, accepting the crushing terror and hopelessness of the situation. That it was a distinct possibility that he had had a complete break from reality, or that the world had finally descended into nuclear war. That he would likely never see any of his friends ever again. Exhaling his eyes snapped open, a serene expression on his face. "So par for the course, really."

--
An hour later saw Bruce in full-scale survival mode. A lifetime spent on the run from every government agency had given the man more than a few skills that would come in handy in this bleak new world. He'd located some shelter in a ruined storefront, then had set about gathering whatever resources he could. He'd quickly discovered that a number of items from the laboratory had been pulled through the rift with him, and he scoured the are for anything he could find.

As night fell, he made his way back into his shelter and hunkered down for the night. A small pile of objects sat at the opposing side of his small fire. There were a few pieces of lab equipment which wouldn't be of any immediate use, but it was nice to have all the same. The real find had been his "go-bag". Really it was just a canvas shoulder bag any college professor might carry, but Bruce was always ready for the possibility of running at a moment's notice. He had a change of clothes, some dehydrated fruit and energy bars, a bottle of water, a shaving kit, an empty shoe polish tin filled with basic survival supplies, and his laptop, the real gem of the collection. A Stark Granitebook- the same model used in combat zones, but Bruce's titanium casing had a drab green sheen- Tony's idea of a joke. Add to that the smartphone he'd had in his pocket, his wallet, his watch, his glasses, and the clothes on his back. He'd been worse off.

Something rattled in the street. Bruce looked up with concern, his heartbeat jumping. His fire was small and concealed behind rubble, but Bruce quickly stomped it out all the same. Peeking over the edge, Bruce saw there were figures in the street. He stayed silent, prepared to wait out the night unless he heard some actual human voices...

John had more or less settled in his apartment, as soon as he'd found the thing, and tried to acclimate himself to the world he suddenly found himself in. It was still very strange to wake up in a tiny, sparse environment, but altogether it wasn't so different from his seminary dorm. Perhaps a lot more run down, but ultimately compared to the rest of the world he figured he was very blessed to have a space of his own.

He'd also been able to get a couple changes of clothes, finding the people here were generous with the "Chosen", a term he still didn't understand fully and wasn't quite comfortable accepting. He tried to do what he could in return, however, doing a few odd tasks for both the clothing and food distributors before taking what he recieved back to his apartment.

There still was little he could do around the town, though, so for now he walked around and tried to get a feel for the place.

Settling down around noon in slightly more civilian clothing, sans even his collar (as he'd promised Belia no pushing his religious presence on anybody) he settled with his lunch and Bible on a roadside bench. He'd been walking through the city all day and was ready for a break, and a bit of more optimistic reading. The Bible wasn't light, per say, but it had comfort in it during difficult or confusing times and since he had little else to do reading up on his versus seemed to be as effective a use of time as the next thing here. Especially since Pastor Steve's recent success in the congregation had stirred up John's own intent to learn better the Word without needing the text on hand.

Taking a bite of... well, something less than tastey, the man opened his book and settling in for a rest, wondering again what God's plan could be for him in this place.

John was still reeling from suddenly finding himself in a new world, one with monsters and an apocalypse and super powered people, but at least he was more or less calm now. Or at least, he had been until armed guards came up and demanded he follow them. He’d been walking down the street cautiously exploring the city he found himself in now when they’d cornered him.

He wanted to know why, but they didn’t seem to want to talk and he really wasn’t in a position to argue with them, even if he wasn’t a man of peace. Still clutching his bible (he’d let go of the paperwork, donating it to a kindling pile since it didn’t seem he’d need to be organizing fund raisers for the Dallas humane society anytime soon) the pastor followed the guards into a new building. He looked around nervously, not usually a man to be anxious. But the guards weren’t friendly and he wasn’t used to militant forces pushing him around on an alien world.

They stopped in front of a door and he stood, looking around and saying a quiet prayer for his own safety. It was all he could think to do.

( --- )

Wide eyed, Owen watched in both terror and curiosity as the small crack in the safehouse floor quickly grew, swallowing him in the process. It was sudden, yet painless, and for a moment, he thought he might be hallucinating. The blackness sucked him down to his knees like gravity magnified, and he struggled to keep hold on the dufflebag that he had collected from the other Guardian's possessions. Then, almost as quickly as it had set upon him, it was gone. The weirdest thing about it was the fact that it wasn't the weirdest thing at all.

Owen slowly stood to his feet, expertly trained senses taking in the sudden change in scenery. Less than a minute ago he had stood in a small London flat, the last known location of a man that he had been hunting. This was not London though, unless someone had decided to bomb the place in the last sixty seconds with the quietest bombs ever. It wasn't even morning, as it had been only minutes ago, but evening. He couldn't begin to explain what could have happened to cause the sudden shift in time and location. Perhaps he had been knocked unconscious and the blackness was his subconscious manifesting those last moments. If he had been though, why was he still alive and unrestrained?

First things first, re-establish contact, he thought to himself as he touched the small transmitter/receiver that he had in his ear. "Shadowwalker, something's happened. Do you copy?" There was no reply save for the static of a dead connection. Pulling the device out of his ear, he put it into his pocket and pulled out his phone, activating its GPS... which quickly ended in an error message. He shut the device off and then turned it back on, trying again to the same result.

Returning his phone and pulling his gun, Owen slowly walked down the debris-littered streets, careful to avoid kicking anything and making noise. The heavy bag slung over his shoulder rubbed against his shirt as he moved, his eyes scanning the broken and dilapidated buildings around him. None of the geography of the area was registering to him. The architecture was even off, for British standards. It all looked abandoned, though in the distance he thought he could make out a walled area. Perhaps he might find information there.

John locked the door of his office, holding his breath. It was that time of the night, right before he went home. It was always risky, attempting to leave the church. Especially during the turbulent times when peritioners were upset about something. And his sermon several days before encouraging couples to have sex had certainly upset the roost.

The young pastor walked out through the back of the church, attempting to look out for anybody approaching without looking like he was concerned about being approached. All day he'd been responding to concerns about his idea, if anybody approached him before he got to his car he'd definitely be in for a hour long conversation, minimally. He didn't know why it was always when he was trying to walk to his vehicle, or eat lunch on a long day, or get off the phone and to the toilet, but if anybody needed to give him an earful regarding something that he'd said it was bound to catch him then. Or at some other equally inopportune time.

Tonight it seemed like he was being granted a reprieve, however. The church was silent and the parking lot empty. "Thank you," he whispered quietly, eyes turning up to the sky gratefully. He loved his work, and his peritioners, but he'd spent far too long on the phone that day and his head was pounding enough that he was contemplating just crawling into bed and not working on his sermon, the upcoming school presentation he'd promised to give at the middle school, or even touching the email he'd seen at work from the local food bank, who probably were trying to organize another fund raiser at his wealthy-populated congregation. All were important matters to tend to, but the throbbing in his skull didn't want to concentrate on anything but a hot shower and his pillow.

The bible resting amongst other papers in his hand shifted slightly and he frowned, looking down at it and catching it in his other hand, pulling it back upright. Coincidence, probably, but he couldn't help feel it was something of a reminder. He was leading an extremely blessed life, if the worst he had to suffer was a night of working with a head ache than he had no business shutting down from every little malady. The food bank would want a swift answer, the school children needed inspiration, and even if he did wait till the next day to get started with those things tomorrow would likely be as hectic and complaint filled as today.

He looked back up, resolving to finish his work as efficiently as possible but also to finish it. Along with the resolution there seemed to be a new burst of air, smelling different and slightly cooler than he was used to, which helped with his headache. The pastor's eyes closed briefly, enjoying it as his hand reached for his car door handle... until it didn't find it. The blond frowned, opening his eyes and looking for his car, but it was nowhere to be seen. He looked around, but suddenly the entire landscape was different, not just the air or his car or the crunch of dirt instead of pavement under his shoes. John's eyes widened as he suddenly found himself in the midst of a town not his own, in fact he'd never been any place that looked like this. Run down and full of oddly dressed strangers, and he was somehow in the center of a street instead of the parking lot.

"What the-" habit shut his mouth before he finished the sentance, but his shock irrepressibly finished with a slightly gurgled sound of disbelief as he stumbled out of the street and with his back to the nearest wall. This definitely wasn't Dallas.