The Universe's Mixer

The City Hall was chosen because it held a room within it that was big enough to accommodate the droves of people that were sure to come. Plus, being inside space, there were no worries over weather that couldn't be controlled. The people could sit and listen and not have to try to hear past traffic or wind.

Even with the late notice, everything was done well before the scheduled start time, which Thomas was proud of. He was glad that the ones who were born here weren't entirely useless without him around. They were keeping their heads together, doing what needed to be done. Of course, it also could have been the fact that they believed Thomas was who he claimed to be, and with his presence there with them, they felt better about the situation they were currently in.

Thomas looked at the stage. That's where he would be standing, talking to the people he had brought here. He had no doubts that they would be the ones with the questions, the ones who demanded answers. He was ready. He could do this.

He sat in a seat hidden by a curtain, where he could still see the stage and the rows of chairs beyond, and waited.

Veronica wasn't exactly the girliest of girls, but since finding herself stuck in the City, she was really missing her female friends. Especially Mac.

Her interaction with female people had been limited to work, and to one lunch with Lois Lane.

She needed people to hang out with that weren't in law enforcement, and weren't Logan. And hopefully she wouldn't ruin their lives.

Veronica left work and headed to a bar to grab a drink, thinking about all of this and looking around the bar for other women her age. There weren't many, but there were a few. It was a Tuesday, so this wasn't the big drinking weekend crowd, just people on their way home.

She took a seat next to a girl that looked a little older than her, maybe, with dark hair and big eyes. Once she'd ordered her drink and convinced the bartender she wasn't 12, Veronica said hi.

In her best, non-crazy, non-stalkery way.

Here was hoping she wasn't anything like Parker.

Jennifer had known previous to her talk with Charlie that she needed to talk to Dean about what was going on, but hearing her partner say those words propelled her forward in her actions. She'd finally been able to talk about what had happened with Simon, admit it to herself, really, and now she thought was the best time to get the truth out to Dean, too.

She was really not looking forward to it. To what he might say and how he might react. She really should have told him when they started, or very soon after. She had no idea what his feelings toward her were.

Not considering her actions when she decided to ask him to meet her in a public place, and what that might mean if it were in reverse, Jennifer sat in the coffee shop and stared at her phone. She wasn't used to things not moving, and being able to give exact directions to where she was. It was part of the reason why she'd been hesitating so long.

Finally, she sent off the text.

Hey, was wondering if you'd meet me. I'm in the coffee shop on fifth. It hasn't moved in twenty minutes.

Jennifer had been very bothered by what the City had done now. With her past dealings with it, she knew something was up, but couldn't figure it out. Her cop instinct also told her that something was very wrong, but again, she couldn't wrap her mind around it. It made her a little angry. Angry at the City, angry at herself.

Then, on top of it, the murders had started again. So there'd only been one, but it was absolutely the same suspect as it had been before. There were too many similar things. There was also a lot that was different, worse. So much worse. Jennifer hadn't seen anything so gruesome in a very long time. Time had been taken. Time and care. She felt there had been much suffering. She felt it was her fault, because she'd given up the case when the trail had gotten cold. If she'd just kept at it, maybe this person, this Arkham employee, wouldn't have died.

Frustrated, Jennifer pushed the papers forward off of her desk. She didn't care where they landed, she just wanted them the hell away from her.

And she wanted to call Dean. She hadn't seen him since the change in the streets. She felt like she could use a very good tumble.

Jennifer had been in a pretty good mood since her date with Dean. It had devolved pretty severely into one of the most interesting dinners she'd ever had. Then the things after that... well. Interesting wasn't really the right word for that, was it? They'd gotten back to her place, but just barely. Even the mention of a talking cat hadn't deterred him.

To top the evening off, she'd left the torn undergarment in his pocket before he left her place.

She was a little distracted at the moment thinking about it. For an odd reason, she wanted to tell Charlie about it. She wasn't sure why. This seemed like something she should talk to him about, but it didn't matter at all, since he wasn't here. She also wasn't delusional enough to think that it meant there was any kind of relationship between her and Dean now. It was just a fun time.

There was a pile of paperwork on her desk, so she didn't really notice when she sat on that pile while trying to read a report belonging to her partner and ended up sitting on the Bat communicator she'd been given.

Warning: Gets unexpectedly naughty.

Dean sat in his borrowed kitchen and stared at his phone. There was a couple of new numbers init that led to memories he wasnt sure he wanted. Actually he knew he didn't want them, but had anyway. Not without some kind of intervention would he be rid of them. His fingers drummed for a moment by the phone with those oddly comforting yet still discomforting numbers.

He had said that he would show her around, that he would introduce her to some people. He had said that. He had respected her, even limiting the New Year's kiss to a chaste one on the forehead. He cared about Jo in some way, but to name the way the hunter would have to let feelings and thoughts stew. He wasn't in the mood for stewing, not without a hell of a lot of alcohol. Oddly he really didn't want to get drunk, or more he did but didn't want to give into that destructive instinct quite yet.

His lunch with Dinah, as accidental or perhaps fortuitous, had been nice, and he knew of at least one woman he really needed to have a meal with. Maybe two. He wasn't sure if he should call either woman, so he hesitated, spinning the damned phone with all its strange ties to past, present, and possible futures. He groaned at himself as he realized he was giving into a brooding better suited to the Sasquatch.

"Right." Dean nodded to himself, grabbed the phone, and scrolled through the contacts list. He sent off a quick text.

Not romantic to text but want to grab a bite? He debated whether or not to send one those damn smileys. He decided against it. If yes meet me at Eddies Lil Italy by the library. 7:30 pm. Pressing send, Dean got cleaned up, and might have put on something nicer than the usual tee and jeans. He may have put on the shirt and tie that he knew he hadn't had before.

At 7:15 pm, the hunter waited just inside for his...date? Now would Secret Agent Goodbody show?

The preparations for the official formation of the City chapter of the Justice League were set. At least, as set as they could be. Dinah still had her reservations about the person manning the Tower, but the Justice League was needed in the City. She was sure of that. And she thought the City might accept that too. After all, it could very easily have taken away the Clocktower or sent some of them home or done any number of things to get in their way.

She didn't like the idea of the City handpicking their staff either, but Jensen deserved a chance. Dinah would be watching him like a hawk until he proved himself, but for now it was time to at least see how it worked out.

The Clocktower seemed to have grown to accommodate the new team. There was now a second apartment for Jensen and there was an entire subbasement that Dinah either hadn't been aware of or hadn't existed until they'd started planning to get the band back together. The basement had more than enough room for a lab for Hank and a training facility for the rest of them.

Dinah waited in the computer room for everyone to arrive. It shouldn't take Jensen too long since he just lived downstairs at least. And she could only hope that the City allowed everyone else to make it there without much trouble.

(Happens the same day as this)

Detective Charlie Crews didn't settle down at his desk right away. He had the feeling that they were about to have some discussion, and he probably needed to focus. It wasn't that he couldn't follow conversations with his partner, but he knew there were times she couldn't always follow him. Or more she didn't want to follow him because it would mean she would have to think like him, and that bothered her a little. He was trying, see?

He poured hot water into the coffee press with the gourmet stuff waiting in the bottom to steep. He opened the box of fruit tarts they had picked up on the way back to the precinct, placing one pastry each on the two small plates. He then went to the trouble of getting out forks and napkins before setting them on the desks. He had an apple type confection and had gotten her whatever she'd wanted. Then after placing a nice clean mug beside each desk, setting the coffee press between them with the sugar and cream, he finally sat down.

"So, what did you think about the bunny pants? Seemed a little too obvious for a magician, don't you think?" Charlie thought that was a good opening. He hadn't thanked her exactly for getting them back to the office, but then he thought buying her a treat and setting up snack for whatever tete-a-tete they were about to have seemed like a good apology/thank you.

The storm had turned everything topsy-turvy. With some of his fellow police officers, Charlie was out canvasing streets in hopes of preventing looting, what there could be of it. He didn't even understand how the City wasn't cleaning things up; hadn't there been a Godzilla attack once? He was pretty certain someone had said that that had happened. He like those other police officers, who knew he was a detective but let him help out anyway, weren't worried about what the City wasn't doing; they had to worry about the citizen's of the City.

The detective had left a message with Ted, telling him that the damage to their mansion was minimal, not that they really had to worry about up keep. Ted had a large some of money after all, and Charlie wasn't that concerned with what happened to what he possessed. Possessions were nothing in the end. He had called someone to come look after the trees though; the orchard needed to be tended.

Charlie then called his partner. He hadn't talked to her in a while, at least socially. They'd had a few brushes at work, but nothing that had them working together which was a little odd seeing as they were partners. He missed her. He thought he might have scared her after their last big discussion. In fact, he missed her enough to call her back after he got a report that some woman was locked in her house. While it wasn't murder, Charlie felt they could try to figure this out together anyway. He got her on the phone the second time he called, and while he headed over, he gave her the address and the situation.

It seemed that neighbors had noticed that some woman was screaming bloody murder, or just yelling really loudly depending on who was asked. She wasn't coming out, and she might be locked in. Being locked in a house was odd, seeing as most of the buildings on the street had lost windows and some doors to the storm. Yet, the house seemed to have weathered things rather well. That was a small mystery in itself.

The detective headed up slowly to the front door. If he were one to put much faith in movies, he'd say this was one of those places horror movies happened. It was rife with the mystique and creep necessary to pull of a good horror movie. Thankfully, Charlie chalked it all up to this being a house recovering from a storm, a very lucky house.

"Unless it's not." He stood a few steps from the door. "Could have monsters inside, but what self-respecting monster would be inside when there is murder and mayhem to be had? Unless it's not one of those monsters." He had to give this one a small think through. Eventually he would get to the door.

While Harry Dresden was certainly good for River, he wasn't a replacement for Simon.

River was glad Simon was gone, so that he could have a better life. But that didn't mean there weren't days where she got up and cried because he wasn't there, and because she might never see him again. She'd decided to treat it like a death. That was the most rational way of coping.

So she went to the hospital to claim Simon's things, and pack up whatever he'd left. She could give the relevant medical things to Hannibal, and save whatever needed saving.

His name plate was still on his door. River touched it and smiled, and had a hospital staff member let her into his office.

She spent an hour moving papers around into piles before someone else showed up. River looked up, hair half in her face, at the person that'd arrived, the person who was watching. The corners of her mouth went up in a very small smile.

"Hello," she said.

Jennifer had successfully managed to keep herself out of the sightlines of her superiors for the duration of the werecreature issues. She had managed to not go outside for more than a couple of minutes at a time, and had happily kept herself from being bitten during those times. It was a win win situation for her.

Especially when her boss had come down to tell her what a great job she'd done.

Who was she to tell him she'd done exactly nothing? That she'd actually disobeyed orders and not gone out looking for roaming polar bears and giant fucking chickens? She'd just smiled and said thank you, and hoped that that would be the end of it. If she never heard about this outbreak again in her life it would be too soon.

Of course, during all of it, she'd seen not hide nor hair of her partner. Which made her wonder and worry more than a little bit. Had he gotten caught up in all of it? Was he just out being Charlie? Was it, maybe, a little bit of both?

Before she could really get into the depths of wondering and pick up her phone to try to call him, her intercom buzzed.

"Yes?" Had this been there before? Had it ever been used previously? It seemed like such an outdated thing. Jennifer was pretty sure that it hadn't even been a part of the phone system. Usually people just knocked on her office door or sent an email. Or called.

"You have a visitor." Came the falsely cheery voice of the woman currently manning the front desk.

"Alright." She paused. "Send them in." She didn't mean to sound snarky about it. But why ask permission now to admit a stranger when it'd never been an issue before. How many people had just walked right through the station to find her previously? Maybe that thing with the crazy woman had gotten folk to beef up the security. She could only hope.

Jennifer kept her eyes on the door while she waited for her guest.

After what she'd been through, with the fighting the crazy Charlie-obsessed lady on the rooftop, then the rescue of the boy Jake, she really could have done with a day off. But almost as soon as she'd woken up the day after the rescue, she'd been called into work. They'd told her all kinds of crazy things that she didn't want to believe, but couldn't really discount.

And what did they want her to do?

Try to wrangle the goddamned animals. They wanted her to act as some kind of One Person Animal Control Unit. Of course, she wasn't about to run around trying to capture animals that were really people (according to what her superiors told her), because the last thing she wanted was to get bitten by anything (again) and turn into something that she wasn't (again). What she did instead was go around and take notes on what she saw. What kinds of animals there were. How big the animal was. Where she saw it.

But one officer had come in talking about a polar bear, and she just couldn't believe that anybody really wanted her to go toe to toe with a polar bear.

There were a couple of nights spent with Dean. Being more adventurous now that she was healing. But she hadn't gotten a call from him in a couple of nights, and he hadn't returned her texts, so she figured that he was busy with something else. Or somebody. She didn't really care if it was another woman. So long as he didn't pass anything to her. But she did hope he was okay, and did hope that he would at least take a moment to text back and tell her that he wasn't dead.

Currently, she sat in her office looking over the spreadsheet she'd made. The list of animals was random and she wasn't altogether sure she could account for the ones she hadn't seen with her own eyes. The places they were seen were even more random. She couldn't make a tracking map if she'd had a gun held to her head.

Jennifer sighed.

The worst one, really, were the stack of reports sitting in front of her about a giant chicken. Not just a chicken, but one as big as a house. Literally. She wasn't sure what to do with the information. Go looking for it? Ignore all of it? What was she going to do against a giant chicken?

Arkham Asylum loomed into view as Dinah pulled her car to a stop near the entrance to the bridge. The gothic looking manor that housed the asylum awaited them on the island, seemingly quiet from the outside.

Dinah waited for everyone else to catch up, her eyes sweeping the streets for any sign of the Batmobile. She tapped her communicator once to connect with the Clocktower.

"Are we up and running, Fred?"

She still wasn't completely confident in the plan. A part of her worried that she was just sending the people she cared about to their deaths-or worse, knowing the Joker. But she had to try, had to believe that Jake was in there and could be saved.

Dinah had spent the better part of her day tracking down building plans for the Asylum and starting to form her own plan of attack for rescuing Jake. She already knew that she could count on Harry and Murphy to show up to the planning session, which would be at the cleared out Sherwood Florist. The backroom was a large enough space for however many people were able to show up and she'd cleared the table of any flowers and now had the blueprints all laid out. Now she needed to go through the list of others that she was going to call for help.

Dinah wasn't a huge fan of calling people for help, but she knew that taking on the Joker alone or even with a group of two or three was far too dangerous. She wasn't going to risk everyone getting hurt, or worse because she was too proud to ask for help.

So, she pulled out her phone and began to go down the list of those that she would call for help. There was Fred, and Dean, who had already been helping. Alfred, who could get a message to Bruce for her, since she'd had yet to actually see or talk to Bruce outside of the suit. Even Oliver. While she wasn't entirely sure about asking him for help, they had become allies here, and if he was anything like the Oliver she knew, he'd want to help.

The only person she left out of things was Barbara. She felt guilty, and she'd done her best to avoid the Clocktower apartment that day, but she didn't want Barbara anywhere near the Joker. Or Jake, for that matter. She had a feeling that the presence of a younger version of Barbara would just be a trigger for Jake and she had no idea what the City's Joker would do if he knew that Batgirl was in town and still had the use of her legs.

Jennifer had been sent out on a call without Charlie. It wasn't the first such call, but she wasn't so sure that she should be working this one alone. After all, it was a very brutal murder, and with all the deaths of the Asylum staff going on, she thought that her partner should be kept in the loop. If they both saw things at the same time, everything worked like magic. They talked, they commiserated. They figured things out. She didn't want to break that cycle in the midst of some of the worst crimes in the City's history.

However, when she got there, she discovered that she didn't have a single thing to worry about. The M.O. was completely different. Not even just different, but startlingly put together. She was handed a file when she arrived on scene that described other deaths that looked exactly like this one.

There were small cuts all over the body. The paleness of the flesh and lack of livor mortis indicated that this person had bled out. She didn't need the medical examiner to tell her that, but he did anyway. The wallet, keys, money, credit cards, photos, jewelry, all of it was there, but spread around the corpse. The most disturbing part of it was the face. Jennifer was pretty sure that's what they called a Glasgow Smile. Ear to ear. Teeth showing through the gaping wound left by something extremely sharp.

Whoever had done this had taken this person unawares. They had also taken their time.

"It's obviously not the same killers who are wrapped up in the Arkham stuff." She mused, normally she would be talking to Charlie. "Two sets of killers running free in the City. Great. Fucking great."

Jennifer knelt by the body. "No motive here."

Dean stood in line feeling smug. He had had a pretty good time with Murphy; he hadn't had enough to drink to forget her name or how much fun they'd had. She wasn't bad for his first time back in the saddle, and she seemed to like what he was doing. He gave some chick passing by the silent "how you doin'?" nod, even adding a slight smile and a wink. The City did know how to pick hot chicks. His head turned to watch her go, and he didn't even blush when he got caught girl watching by another woman. He gave her a smile with a shrug and a wink. He was a man who appreciated the female form. He bit down on a laugh as the woman gave him a huff and a roll of the eyes.

The hunter took a step forward, glad that there was only one more person in front of him. Sure, he was feeling a little sore from whatever bed gymnastics he'd gone through not long ago, but he was certain he wouldn't have those dreams again. Either the caffeinine he'd decided would be his new best friend or the sex was going to keep those damn dreams out. He wasn't going to see that tall bastard back in his head again, and he sure as hell wasn't going to be doing that shit with a man...ever again.

All he needed was a little pickme up that came with a melt-in-your-mouth scone, and then he'd be off. He also had a plan, but it would have to wait until dark. Anyone who knew the hunter might find it a little strange that he hadn't noticed a place called Fangtasia, or more that he hadn't thought of going to check it out. Honestly, Dean thought Fangtasia was a little too obvious for a smart vampire, and there was no way he'd been beaten bloody by some dumb thug of a bloodsucker. So, Fangtasia would be the last place he hit...possibly.

With another step he was at the bar to order. Dean smiled at the female barista, giving her a wink and a nod. Yeah, she wouldn't be his first choice, but she wasn't bad. Just the right height for...As his mind wandered down the dark rolling ways of the gutter, he realized that the woman beside him hadn't moved the whole time he'd been in line. What he had seen from the back hadn't been bad. He glanced at the barista who was busy with some order before he looked at the dark haired woman.

"Hey, they take a while here?" He turned, hip propped against the counter, a smile on his lips that suggested he knew what to do in and out of the bedroom. Just give him the time of day.

Patience was a virtue. Unfortunately, it was not one of Harley’s. It never really had been, actually. When she wanted something, she found a way to make it happen, even before she’d met her Puddin’. Now when she wanted something, she generally just took it. A reflection that did nothing to lighten her gloomy mood as she sat parked atop an office building, watching the two most likely exits to said structure.

This had seemed like fun when she thought of it three hours ago. The fuzz did it all the time. The vinyl vigilante practically lived to do this sort of thing. Which only reinforced Harley’s professional opinion that Bats was cracked in the head. Normal people did not put on tights and masks and skulk around rooftops, it wasn’t a healthy expression of emotion.

( What it was, currently, was a dead bore. )

Backdated to the day after this

Jennifer woke up in her own bed. With absolutely no memory of how she'd gotten there. The details of the night before were hazy at best. It was likely she'd start recalling them later, after she didn't feel as if her head was going to explode or roll off of her body. She was also pretty sure that if she move any part of her, even an inch, she was going to throw up all over herself. Jen was pretty sure that she hadn't felt this shitty even when she'd been a zombie. She wanted to be dead. Actually, dead might not be enough. Maybe cremated would make her feel better.

She did vaguely remember the drinking part and the bar part where she'd met up with Crowley again. The rest was a blur. Wow, she hoped she hadn't done anything rash or stupid. Or illegal. But with Crowley there... oh boy.

There was also another memory there. The fact that Simon had told her that he wanted to marry her, and then had promptly broken up with her. That needed to be fixed, and right goddamned now. That's not the way things worked in the world. She didn't think that the future was so drastically different that relationships suddenly worked backwards like that. You didn't tell somebody that you loved them and then dump them. You didn't spring huge information like you loved them so much that you'd been considering marriage to them and then tell them you couldn't be with them right now. And then to hang up the phone??? Okay, yes, he was busy, he was a doctor. But then he'd never called back.

Despite the urge to purge, Jennifer rolled enough to discover her phone by her pillow and picked it up. She squinted at the brightness of the screen and frowned. She wasn't going to go outside today. She definitely wasn't going to go to work. Charlie might be disappointed in her, but she just couldn't do it. Maybe not for three million years.

Simon's name was not in her recent calls or her recently called list. He was not in her text message list. When she scrolled through to find his number in her phone book, his name was not there either. It was quite possible that she'd deleted it all in her fit of drunkenness. She wouldn't put it past herself. It was childish and disappointing, but she could picture doing it. And truthfully, she wouldn't have been any more surprised to find she'd relisted him under "Heartless Bastard". But it looked like deleted was the way she'd gone.

Screwing up her eyes to try to see the small buttons containing the numbers, Jennifer dialed his number by heart. She put the phone to her ear, expecting the ringing sound. She didn't know if he'd pick up or let it go to voice mail. She supposed it didn't really matter. She'd talk anyway.

But the sound didn't come. Instead, a recorded voice popped onto the line.

"The number you have dialed is not in service." Followed by a click.

She hit redial and got the same. She retyped the number and got the same.

Jennifer stared at the phone in her hand, tears streaming from the corners of her eyes.

Jennifer had gotten home sometimes after talking to Simon and hadn't known what to do. She'd just lost her boyfriend for reasons she couldn't quite wrap her head around. Her best friend had moved out in anger. She was alone. The apartment felt incredibly empty. Knowing that nobody was going to be walking through the door, not for any reason.

So she did what turned out to be the only solution that she could come up with. She drank.

It didn't take long for her to get tipsy. She wasn't a drinker. She had maybe, at most, a glass of wine at fancy dinners, on holidays. A glass of champagne for celebrations, successes. She didn't even know where the bottle of vodka had come from. But it had been there. Waiting. In her freezer. She didn't even know if it was high end, or complete crap. It didn't really matter, in the end. She knew that the result of it would turn out the same no matter if it was gutrot or expensive.

At first, she drank carefully. Mixing the vodka with the orange juice in the fridge. Sipping slowly. Waiting for the pain to be numbed down to something she could tolerate. As she continued drinking, though, she stopped being cautious. Mixed more vodka than juice. Then no juice.

When she was fully tipsy and feeling warm all over, Jennifer changed her clothes(nothing complicated, but a nice white shirt and a clean pair of black pants) and left the house. She didn't want to drink alone. Drinking alone was depressing. She'd heard that somewhere. People who drank alone tended to be suicidal.

The first bar she saw, she went into. She sat right down at the bar and smiled at the bartender.

"Gimme..." Jennifer eyed the alcohol on the shelves behind the bar. She had no idea what was good. "Something..."

Simon sighed as he looked at his phone. He hadn't talked to her for a couple days, and he'd been avoiding her. It wasn't the right thing to do, but he didn't know what else to do, honestly. Finally he sucked it up and made the call.

Jennifer picked up her cell phone. She was out and about, half searching for Jake and half trying to get her errands done. She looked at her phone and hit the talk button. She wasn't sure how this was going to go. She'd told Charlie she didn't know if she was going to end up being upset with Simon over Jake, and she still didn't know. She hadn't seen her roommate since.

"Hello?"

“Jen? I..” Simon knew he should say something, but how do you say “sorry for scaring away your telepathic slightly touchy cat”? “It’s Simon.”

He was busy pacing his office. Watson was out at the moment. In fact, he hadn’t seen Watson in a while. ( That was a mystery for another time. )