The Universe's Mixer

by J. Jonah Jameson,
Executive Editor

You can find almost anything you want in this melting pot we call the City. Spaceships, castles, dark forests, and the best corner deli in any dimension. (I'd tell you where it is, but it probably won't be there if you try to find it.) Whatever controls this City has gone to great lengths to draw in a diverse population, as well. And unfortunately, that diversity includes criminals.

In the New York City I came from (which, as I understand, may be different from other New Yorks), we had a particular breed of criminal that masqueraded as heroes. "Superheroes," they called themselves - ordinary humans who, because of weird mutant powers or a common vendetta, felt the need to dress up in garish outfits and take the institution of the law into their own gloved hands. There were "supervillains" with whom the so-called heroes contended, but they were no more than ordinary thugs and deviants who shopped at the same store as the heroes. All too often, it was impossible to tell the difference between hero and villain, particularly when the heroes would have one of their property-destroying "misunderstandings." And where were these supposedly upright citizens when it came time to pay for the damages they've caused? Hiding away in some cave, or lurking under a bridge? Or perhaps walking amongst the innocent civilians, anonymous and carefree?

Imagine my disappointment, then, when a green, glowing man zooms over my head as I make my way to work yesterday morning. I though I had escaped the reign of the supermen, but alas, they have made their way to this City as well.

We were brought here against our will, but it's an opportunity to make a fresh start of things. We can't let an old menace follow us here, or let it cast its shadow on those who have not lived in its shade before. I call on my fellow citizens to make it clear that, unless they are willing to make their identities known publicly, costumed heroes are not welcome in our City.

Take off the mask.

So much had gone on that Jennifer felt like she hadn't really had two minutes to herself to sit down and just relax. First the zombies, then having to question Simon and Dr Lecter in a professional manner, and then the snow. Not to mention the talk with Smith Wall, who she was seriously having some doubts about as a person. She wanted to find out more about him, but she also wanted to talk to Charlie about him. Maybe somebody with such a Zen way of thinking would have some insight that she didn't, or couldn't.

But today? Today she wasn't going in to work, because it was her day off. She didn't have any chores to do. No errands to run. She was just wearing some comfy pajama pants and a big shirt. She had Jake sitting in her lap and a big fat book in one hand while she lazily scratched the cat on the ears and under his chin. Also sneaking in some tummy rubs when he turned on his back. It was really easy to forget he wasn't a normal cat. That he could look up at her and ask for some Tuna or milk at any moment.

The City had given her a lot of things to think about since she'd been here. Even with everything that had gone on, she still liked it here a lot better than she liked it at home. Things felt stable here, despite the moving buildings and streets. They felt normal. SHE felt normal. That was the most important thing. She felt like just another person in the world, even with the strange barcode tattoo under her eye. Nobody seemed to care about it. It had no significance here. Nobody knew her from her past, when she'd gotten it. Nobody knew her nicknames.

That right there was enough to make her content.

Jennifer snuggled deeper into the chair, listening to Jake purr.