The Universe's Mixer

There was a grunt as Edward's long fingers curled adeptly around the large wheels of his newest mode of transportation.

He glided easily over the newly decorated floor of the warehouse, testing the mechanism out. It would have to do for now, of course, seeing as he wasnt up to taking it apart to create something better. But it performed up to par so Eddie couldn't complain too much.

He paused the chair, twisting the wheels so that the chair spun slowly around, testing the durability and handling.

There was no way the chair would outrun anything, but it would at least get him from point A to point B and back.

Today Edward was feeling well enough to attempt seeing the museum. He needed to case the place to get a feel for the layout and there was nothing better than seeing a floor plan and artifacts for yourself.

Bruce had made Edward a secluded workspace that was accessible by wheelchair to keep the evil genius busy and out of their hair.

Eddie shot the Brute armor that looked over them a hateful look, before spinning the chair around again.

He was as dressed as he could be with a cast and bandages, but some how he had managed his usual attire with a few modifications. He was without hat and cane, not having a need for those items at the current point in his life.

But being back in regular clothes was comforting. They weren't the ones from Arkham, Marcus had gone to get the criminal fresh ones. Edward wanted nothing to do with the crazy house for now. He considered everything of his that was there gone. Guns included.

It was rather disappointing, losing his guns. He'd had them for a very long time and his hands knew them as if they were appendages rather than metallic objects. Ah well. There were plenty more ( guns )

A delivery man entered the bookstore, setting three large rose bouquets on the counter, tipping his hat to the person manning the counter before leaving. The bouquets were obviously done by someone with great care, yet inexperienced in such matters, some of the thorns missed, one of the flowers broken from where it had been jammed into the vase.

The envelope in the orange bouquet read simply "Beauty", with a small rolled letter tucked into the purple and white.

I know these can't take away the pain caused to you. But perhaps the knowledge that they come from a place dear to my heart may put truth to the words, that I am sorry. And perhaps the knowledge that if Ivy ever finds out I cut them will murder me horribly might make you smile... I cannot change what has occurred, not with flowers or poetic words...but this is all I have.