The Universe's Mixer

Indiana Jones was soaked to the skin. So was Elsa. But this had to work, and it had to be done, because Henry Jones was inside this castle.

When the heavy door swung open and the butler greeted them, Indy started to talk, the thick, phoney Scottish accent comical coming out of his mouth, the stupid beret sitting askew on top of his head instead of his fedora.

".... and his lovely assistant," Indy said, grabbing Elsa by the arm, "are here to view the tapestries."

Tapestries?

"This is a castle, isn't it? And you do have tapestries?"

"Yes, this is a castle. And we have many tapestries. But if you are a Scottish lord, then I am Mickey Mouse!"

Indy widened his eyes in feigned shock, turning his head to this blond sidekick. "How dare he!" he said, accent still in place, before reaching back and punching the butler in the face, laying him out flat on his back.

Focused, now, and knowing he could find his father, that he was close and everything would fall into place-- the Grail would be kept away from the Nazis, if the Jones boys had anything to say about it-- Indy ducked through a doorway, Elsa behind him, her high heels clicking on the floor.

But the other side of the doorway was not a castle hallway. It was... wrong.

This looked just like his office. At Barnett. And he was still soaked. Indy turned, puzzled, and the castle anteroom was gone entirely. So was Elsa. Elsa who was wearing his hat. As he opened his mouth to curse that fact, the fedora rolled on its brim through the open office door, stopping at his boots and settling like it knew it was home.

Indiana Jones bent to pick it up, and he threw the beret in the trash can next to his desk with a wet plop.

"Just what I needed," he said.

Peter Venkman wasn't especially smart - not for a scientist, anyway - but he had wits to spare. He had also been around the block a few times, cosmically speaking. He'd been to a few creepy, alien dimensions, he'd traveled through time a little, he'd even been to Hell once or twice. "Not a good vacation spot. Let's just leave it at that."

This afternoon, he walked out the front door of the old firehouse - the location of the original Ghostbusters Inc., and currently the global headquarters of Ghostbusters International - and discovered that the deli across the street was now some kind of head shop, the cars on the street were from a variety of different eras (including the near future, apparently) and the skyline of the city was dramatically different. It wasn't much of a leap, then, to assume he'd ended up in an alternate universe of some kind. Maybe something was taking bits and pieces from different worlds and eras and putting them together. Kind of like a hot dog.

He quickly turned around and was relieved to see the firehouse still there. A quick inventory revealed that the equipment - the ECTO-1, the containment grid, and a few proton packs and traps - were still there. No people, however. Damn. Looks like he'd have to hire a new receptionist.

There was a bar across the street. What better place to find out about this world than to talk to the people? And what better time to talk to them than when they're buzzed?

"Hey, barkeep. What kind of booze you serve in this dimension?"