The Universe's Mixer

The crone had disappeared after the storm. With the godlike intervention, the crone knew she'd be able to change back, and rather than change and rush to Eric to give him the good news, the crone still in the Jack like form hid away in the cabin on the chicken legs. The storm had not been enough, and the brief meetings between the storm and the godlike reluctant hero, including said godlike reluctant hero, the crone had discovered something about herself. She was still on her own damn path that was created long before she was fully aware of what she was, a Fable, a story. She had shown them ways, opened doors, even the boy who wasn't half as brave or tough as he'd have liked to think. She had fought to free herself of this tradition, of what had been her predestination; she tried to twist what she was to be as well as twist others. The City need to see that its path could be altered and perhaps should be.

So, she hid away in her cabin. She mixed potions, read what texts she had, drew diagrams, and planned. The beast, her brilliant Beast, had started that dark mind to thinking with his sheets and sheets of paper about blood and life and DNA. She knew long ago that blood was powerful; she'd discovered that the blood of any of the City's creations could be used against it. She had discovered also that the City was tied to the people in it; it could feel, for lack of a better word, how those within it felt. She often thought the people, the City's children, were more than just the white noise, but she'd yet to test it beyond annoying the City with particular attentions she paid to the children.

The crone could gather the City children's blood easily, but perhaps it was time to go beyond those who were so much a part of the City. She had someone she could use, hide behind, if she worked him right. The City would eventually be at her will rather than the other way around. Now all she had to do was gather the ingredients for one hell of a spell.

With a smile on her lips and a dress over her womanly hips, Baba Yaga emerged from her strange cabin. It was time to set a few things straight.

Backdated. Takes place the morning after this thread

Waking up was a bit disorienting. She definitely wasn't in her bed at Wayne Manor, nor was she in one of Zee's guest bedrooms, despite the fact that she distinctly remembered planning to sleep at Zee's after girl's night out. There was an arm over her. Harry's. She smiled slightly as the memories from the night before began to come back to her. of course, once she remembered some of the things that had happened before Harry brought her home, she winced.

How had that even happened? She only remembered one glass of wine and one margarita and while she was by no means a regular drinker, even she wasn't that big of a lightweight. Not to mention the fact that her head didn't hurt, and she didn't feel even the slightest bit hungover.

( Pillow talk )

Lois wasn’t feeling any more at home in the City, though it definitely seemed to have crazy to rival that she’d found in Smallville and Metropolis. There were now three mysterious deaths due to... well, ‘wild dog attack’ was the official story. But Lois knew better than that. There were too many coincidences tying the deaths together, and Lois didn’t believe in coincidences.

So she’d started looking into it, and followed the trail of bread crumbs to a house belonging to a man by the name of Norman Roberts. Norman was tied to all of the victims in some way. It was enough to at least consider him a person of interest.

Lois knocked first, press credentials ready. But when she heard barking inside and no one came to the door, she decided to look around the back, and then decided to ‘let’ herself in by picking the lock on the back door.

( Sniffing out the truth )