The Universe's Mixer

Charlie felt strange. It had hurt, turning into this...whatever it was, but in the end, he decided that it could be a good change. He'd never been an animal before, other than the one known as man, so this would give him a different life experience. He was lucky that Lucy-Belle wasn't at home; he didn't think she'd like his new face. It was definitely not his old one, save for maybe the eyes somehow. He stared at himself in the bathroom mirror, and gave a testing bark. It wasn't a bad bark. He spent sometime testing out smells and tastes before heading downstairs.

He caught a scent back in the kitchen where the attack had happened. There was something that smelled tangy, not bad but not right..blood? He snuffed some more, finding other scents, some good, some bad. He finally found one that told him food. He followed it; it reminded him oddly enough of an old fur coat his ex-wife had had. Rabbit? Strangest coat. Bunny. He may have found his bad bunny.

He didn't leave a note, but he was kind enough to close the door that he had left open this whole time behind him. He started trailing that bad bunny. It had bitten him, and he wanted to bite back, or at least show it the error of its ankle biting ways. Charlie wondered why he couldn't have this ability normally; it seemed like very ideal for a homicide detective.

The trail was leading him away from the mansion and the orchard to the Park. This was going to take some very good detective skills and the keen sniffer this particular incarnation of this particular police detective just happen to have.

Hank was… getting used to his bear form. Starting to enjoy it, a little. As soon as he'd found he could shift back and forth the whole thing became much more tolerable. Well, that and rumors has spread that he was not the only one, so maybe it was just the City toying with them as Hannibal suggested it sometimes did.

At nights he went out to the park, strolling around in his bear form and exploring. He liked to sniff out things, then take them to a hiding spot and come back to investigate them when he was human. The comparison between the sets of senses were pleasing, if not a bit useless.

Tonight, though, Hank went to the docks in human form, slipping into and ally and changing out of his clothes, shifting quickly. It was getting easier, the more he did it, and soon a polar bear was sneaking guiltily down to the water.

When he got to the edge he blinked, staring at the water and sniffing it. He almost smiled, though he was a bit nervous. The bear wanted to go in, to see if there was food. The human part of him knew polar bears were great swimmers, he'd studied up on them when he'd first returned to human form, but he was still a bit apprehensive even after deciding to come here.

All it really took was a small frog jumping into the water to his side, and Hank's predatory instincts took over. He lurched forward into a semi-graceful dive into the water, plunging in and finding the water perfectly deep enough for a giant mammal to enter for a swim.

Hank human mind felt a flash of terror as he cannonballed and the water enveloped him; he'd never actually swam before and had never been in water deeper than the shallow baths his mother had given him as a child, but the bear kicked in and knew what to do, plunging down and down and looking around. The moonlight didn't allow for much light, but it was still very clear, and as Hank turned joyfully he felt the polar bear's full appreciation for the world under the surface where his weight and bulk didn't mean so much.

Hank surfaced, taking a deep breath of air before spotting his frog on a rope hanging down into the water, looking disinterested. He went still, then lunged for it, far too slow to catch the slimy creature as it hopped into the water and bolted away, but then again he wasn't really interested in catching it anyway. He couldn't imagine frogs tasted that good raw, whatever the French liked to do with them in the kitchen.

Yes, Hank was a happy polar bear, surfacing and diving and testing how long he could go underwater. As long as no boat ran over him he could see spending the night here.

Rufio woke….. not in his bunk in the tree. He was flat on his back on a hard, cold surface…. like stone, but not. The boy sprang instantly to his feet, the golden sword appearing in a flash in his hand. He was in a room… gigantic, and dark. Too big to be a prison, and filled with old boxes and crates. Rufio looked around cautiously, crouching as he moved backward, sword still at the ready as he blew out a soft bird call, reaching out to see if any other Lost Boys were here.

Nothing. Nothing but the echo of his own signal.

The boy turned and jumped up onto a crate, trying to get a better view of where he was.

"HOOK!" he bellowed, lifting his sword in challenge. It had to be him, the pirate. This had to be something he concocted. "HOOK! Show yourself, you slobber filled flea bag!"

( Again…. no answer. He was alone. )

Rufio hadn't been able to rebuild his landsurfer. Not yet, but he wasn't letting that get to him. Instead he'd gone out, late at night, found a store that had skateboards in it, then taken one. It hadn't been hard, a rock through the glass and grabbing his and leaving, running out and leaping on the special design and taking off, one hand on the hilt of his sword and the other stretched forward to knock things out of his way as he laughed. He rolled through the streets of the City, knocking people and things over and doing the occasional trick. He'd pioneered the boards with the Lost Boys, even if he moved on later to the landsurfer. Nobody topped Rufio on four wheels and a plank of wood.

Soon, though, he found what he was really looking for in this maze of rock and concrete. Some semblance of a forest, though it was pretty pathetic. Sparce, small trees, only barely enough to hide in.

Rufio plunged into the foliage, looking around for signs of anything familiar, but especially fairies. "Tink?" he tried. If she'd left him in this world this is where she'd probably be found. "Tinkerbell, get over here!"

He moved into the deepest brush he could find, pants swishing and board clapping against his side as he held it, looking around. No, this wood was all wrong, and not one sign of a fairy, or any other magic folk. Angry and disappointed, Rufio tossed up the board, grabbing on end and turning, slamming it into the nearest tree. The thin little thing snapped, but he didn't feel any better, moving backwards and hitting a bigger tree with his back, sliding down until he was sitting.

He'd thought it would be easy to find something to give him a clue, but after all these days, still nothing was like it should be. There weren't even the stars like Peter had told them, that constellation that showed how to get to the Neverland, even if he could fly. But no. Didn't seem it was to be.