The Universe's Mixer

The City was in panic now and the fear and confusion was palpable. But it was time, the next in line, and this one too would be quick.

A knife though more personal, was not the smart move with her. She was a hunter, not entirely human herself either or so that was the rumour. She liked guns herself so the irony could not be lost.

As the dark haired hunter stalked the night, I stalked her.

The roof gave ample cover and several escape routes had been configured. Sometimes close quarters cat and mouse games took care of the job, and sometimes it was better as a game of hunter versus hunted because often one had to really figure out what part they were playing.

Right in the middle of the area she had been tracking, I watched through the scope. Closer and closer now, and time would be at end.

For her.

For now.

And there she was.

Focus now. One shot and let it be done.
Breathe.

Finger on the trigger. Hold your breath.

Pull the trigger.

And fire.

OOC: Did you die in the MM plot? Feel free to join in.

This was out of her league. Not only had her work load doubled during the reign of the mass murderer but none of the souls were moving on. She was pretty sure they were just being stubborn, but dirty looks weren't working. Ignoring them wasn't enough either; dead people were near impossible to ditch. Something about being able to walk through walls.

Eventually the reaper hunkered down in her apartment, sitting on a love-seat she'd salvaged dumpster diving, and hoped someone would just catch the serial killer already. She was half tempted to ask the recently deceased so she could pass on the information to Dexter, but if she did that she realized it would only encourage them to stay that much longer.

After the first week George finally posted a sign on her wall that read: YOU ARE DEAD. GET OVER IT.

Good Morning City.

Not to give everything away, because what would be the fun in that, please take note of the following regarding the fiend lurking about lately:

- is not new to murder
- can and will kill in different ways
- smart and methodical
- relentless

Now, everyone may ask ONE question. It must be one that has a yes or no answer. Can't give away TOO many things, now can we?



And go.

It had been a nice day.

I watched as the little one sat by the fountain enjoying her day.
I watched as she spotted a rabbit and chased through the grass.
I watched as she almost knocked another out and then they talked.

So easy it would be to take both but it was only one this time. So I waited.

Waited and watched.

And when then darker hair girl did leave, I did not approach. I simply raised the gun from where I was hidden, cocked it and with a steady hand and eye, took aim.

And took the shot.

And I watched.

Dexter had two people on his list.

Two people who he knew it could be. Three, if he included himself, and he couldn't really take himself off that list yet, because of the recent dealings with that fucking knife. There was no way he could be absolutely sure that he wasn't blacking out and doing these things, except for the fact that this wasn't really his style, and according to his timecard, he'd been at work for at least one of the killings.

That, and he'd never harm an animal.

One of the dead was a cat.

One of the people was in the hospital, impossible to get to. Dexter wouldn't be able to get his hands on Hannibal Lecter until the kid walked outside. In the mean time, he was going to have a conversation with the other.

He'd met her only once. But he'd known then what she was. Mostly because she'd told him. These murders needed to stop, one way or the other.

Dexter stalked her through the streets, half sure that she knew he was there. It didn't matter though, if she did or not. She would slip up eventually, and that's when he'd be there, ready.

Of course, it took her quite a while to slip. To become too comfortable with her surroundings. To let her guard down. It happened inside of an apartment. She stopped being Super Spy Girl and started acting like she belonged where she was. Which meant this was likely her home. Or the home of somebody she knew very well. He climbed in through a back window and moved through the space with absolutely no sound. He was hunting.

She passed by and it was perfection. She was in his arms, a twitch and pressure would stop her ability to breathe and blood flow to her brain. He had his own arm caught with his hand, and was limber enough to have a needle just barely breaking the skin at the same time.

"What are you doing?" His voice was low, close to her ear. After he said it, he realized he might not have been entirely clear in his meaning.

River did not knock.

She did not wait for her brother to look up from what he was doing, in this office. She did not smile, and she did not say hello. She simply grabbed the file folder out of her brother's hands and flung it across the room, papers flying everywhere.

Her eyes were cold and held nothing but contempt for her brother. Her slight frame didn't move... but it was that same tension that a snake had before striking. And now she glared.

She couldn't speak. She just stood there, almost shaking with anger, before arching an eyebrow and calling her brother an unrepentant blighter, in Mandarin.

"What do you mean by 'Jack Napier is dead', Alfred?" Bruce had come home after finishing his date with Aeon to all kinds of bizarre and interesting news, not to mention news of murders happening all over the city. But this took the cake.

"I mean, sir, that he's dead. He was the first victim in this rash of new murders." Alfred stood, watching Bruce, an eyebrow lifted. Curious to see what would happen next.

"So he draws a giant penis on my building and then gets killed." Bruce couldn't help but feel like it was some natural retribution for everything The Joker had done to him over the years, including his time here. The Joker here was, quite regrettably, much more violent. He had his moments back home, yes, but something about the City had brought out the worst in him.

"Well." Bruce wasn't sure what to say.

"There's something else, sir."

"Something like what?"

"On my routine today I discovered there are things in Master Tim's room again."

"What kind of things?"

"Stuff, sir. Like things belonging to him."

Bruce stopped thinking about everything else. He looked directly at Alfred. His old friend would never joke about anything like that. Even so, the look on his face solidified it.

"Is it..."

"The same Tim? I can't tell, sir. None of the things are age restrictive."

"Is he..."

"Actually here? Not that I've seen, sir. There's been no show of him on the property at all from what I've seen on the cameras. But he's here somewhere, sir."

The day was bright and warm, the sort of weather that made it a perfect time for people-watching. People-watching was a sport that Alice particularly excelled at. At this given moment, she was sitting cross-legged on the rim of a fountain, beads of water lightly misting her hair, and watching the passersby from behind cat-shaped, rhinestone-studded sunglasses.

A man walked by, carrying a newspaper and a briefcase and a tray of coffees in paper cups. Alice wished him a pair of extra hands. A couple of teenage girls scurried by, their hair gleaming green and violet, giggling raucously. Alice thought she spotted River's graceful glide through the crowd, but it could have been any dark-haired dancer going to or from rehearsal.

Then a flash of bright white, patterned with red, made Alice gasp and jump up, nearly toppling backwards into the fountain as a result. The rabbit! Alice took of running after him, her Mary Janes hitting the pavement with a rhythmic beat. She had to catch him! She was Queen now, after all, and it would be nice to have someone to talk to that knew it.

Then she rounded a corner and ran smack dab into someone. "Oof!" she said, staggering back, and peered anxiously over their shoulder. The rabbit was lost. "Oh," she said, barely able to keep the disappointment from her voice. "I'm so very sorry."

The City she had a sense of humour sometimes though most would not see it that way. Another task, another dispatch of one of the chosen ones. The list was getting long but not long enough and now someone new to be added right quick.

Whether from drink or general imbalance, though the latter was guessed, the pirate captain staggered along the water, on the dock close to a ship. It could only be his for whom else would have one that looked like that?

Following at a distance, there was a slight breeze in the air but he had not noticed he was being followed yet. Quicker came the footsteps, hard soles tapping on the ground.

Would be by knife tucked away in the pocket or by his own sword at his side? He had a reputation that was for certain so something of a plan had to be made.

If one kills a pirate captain, can they be the pirate king?

There was talk to be had now. Once or twice it might be written off, but there and been a third and now another would be added to the number.

Another blonde this time, though tough and used to fighting demons and dealing with the angry brothers. Perhaps even they would have their time, but right now, it was her, and her alone.

She leaned against her trunk, so distracted in her work, even the footsteps weren't heard though they crunched on the ground. She was used to putting up a fight against unseen enemies, would this be any different. It would have to be fast but if she wanted a fight, the City would not mind.

This one would die, like those before her and those in line to come after.

Hannibal worked over the monkey. Simon had left a note that something had come up, so Hannibal had gone on without the other doctor. It was a little less fun since he didn't have somebody to make comments to, but only a little. Besides, he could remember everything that he'd wondered about and could bring it up later. Not to mention the notebook they'd started on the subject.

Lots of interesting things had been found out.

Like how the monkey was alive, until it was in moonlight, and then it wasn't. Flesh samples showed that much. And how it sort of healed when you hurt it, but not when it died. When it died, it just came back, like Aeon Flux did. And how when it was undead, in the moonlight, you could do things to it and nothing at all would happen. How it didn't seem to feel pain at all - because it was used to it, or because it's nerve endings were permanently scarred, Hannibal had no idea. But it didn't react to pain stimuli. You could tickle it, however, and it would let out a disturbing monkey giggle.

Tonight, Hannibal was testing it's resistance to disease. He felt if maybe the monkey's blood could be transplanted into a person, perhaps it could be used as a cure for many things. He would start small, and maybe work his way all the way up to cancer.

Imagine that, an obnoxious little monkey curing cancer.

After her talk with Jack Sparrow Violet found herself sitting in what she thinks is a small coffee shop. As she sipped her tea she was making a list, something she had done so many times while on the run from Count Olaf. She mused under her breath as she wrote,"Find a proper and safe place to stay, maybe seek out a guardian, look into school since well I am not the most normal in that respect of things" between sips of her tea. But her eyes told a different story, this might be another journey but she was also scared to death.

Around her in the small coffee shop she was listening in as people talked of a possible killer on the loose. Violet being very Violet was also making notes for possible traps to catch whoever this person was.

It couldn't be helped.

Oh there was to have been a wait.

But she didn't like it, the City had said. A cat way too smart, a giant brain in its head.

So another one it would be, no waiting this time.

The cat was snatched up, and would be taken care of in due time.

No knife or gun to be used on this cat.

That's a little excessive; now who would do that.

Pushing into traffic or dropped from a floor.

If it doesn't work the first, we'll try something more.

C'mon little kitty, c'mon let's play.....


















[no cats were REAALLY harmed during this thread... no. REALLY.]

Who: Lorne [Tag Fred!]
Where: The middle of the City
When: The day after Xanadu pulled her disappearing act.
What: Lorne is still looking for Bates Motel, hears about murders, and freaks out.


( In my own little corner, in my own little chair.. )

A new dawn.
A new day.

Only, it was Twilight.

The City spoke again and off to the streets again I went. Another chosen. Another task.

Would she struggle? Or go quietly into the night.

*blink* There she wasn't.

*blink* There she was.

There she sat, a vision of pink and blonde hair. It would have to be quick or she'd be gone, and that just could not be. The City required her, and the City would not be disappointed. Soft footsteps on the grass and then on the sidewalk and I approached the bench from behind.

The knife.... ah there i was, resting in my pocket, my hand tightened over the hilt and I stood behind, watching.

It would be quick. One fast slice over her throat. The blood would flow and clash against the bright pink of her outfit, marring her flawless perfect skin.

It would be beautiful.

There was a pile of new work on his desk when he went in to work. He didn't really want to go in to work. He wanted to be out there, in the world, catching whoever it was. He had some ideas. Some of them didn't make sense, others did. Suspects in mind.

First he thought that it might be Lecter, but when he got the details of the case, it didn't feel right. It didn't dial him out entirely, it just put him at the back of the pile.

"Any word?" He asked the guy who had the desk next to his.

"Nothing since this morning."

"That could be a good thing."

"We recovered the bullet from Coffey. They're testing it now."

"Maybe it's the same person. Whoever did Coffey is doing these new murders."

"The last murder was done by a knife, Dexter."

And? Dexter wanted to ask. But, of course, the more that the police and forensics team kept to the idea that killers always used the same instruments, the safer he'd be.

"Yeah. You're right." He said instead and went to his desk. Jack Napier, he thought as he looked at the new file. How do I know that name?

The City gives what you need. The City takes away.

Or rather, *I* take away because the City tells me so. The night is dark and I track the first one, the first of many, and answer to the question.

He likes to cause trouble, this Jack, Jack with the makeup and evil laugh and evil plots.

The knife is solid and firm in my hand as I walk up quick behind him. Does he sense me, it matters not. He can't run far enough for me not to chase. Blood with flow in the City, blood with run through the streets.

The street is dark save the street lights and the knife came out. The glint of the shining blade extended from my hand as I invaded his personal space though I stayed to the shadows. "Jack...." the breathy whisper came behind him, the edge of the knife brushing his back. "Such a jokester, the funny guy. Green and white and red all over."

continued from here

( Previously... )

"Lorne? I think something is wrong."

There was no response.

"Lorne?" she called.

She needed a look. Xanadu closed her eyes, removing her sun glasses she put them away in her bag next to her wallet. They hit something that jingled. Xanadu kept her eyelids closed, but sacrificing a bit of concentration, pulled out a set of keys that were not there previously. When her eyes opened they were complete and intact. Her vision was blurred only for moments before Xanadu found herself staring at the skyline of The City for the first time.

But it wasn't the first time, was it?

Xanadu determined that The City must have been from a dream. Her eyes looked red and wet like she'd been crying. Xanadu wiped her newly regrown eyes with the back of her hand. They stung but she knew the feeling would eventually pass. She looked at the keys in her hand. Behind her there was a shop called The Magic Box. Taking a chance she tried the keys. They worked.

Inside the shop it looked as it had before, but with a more Asian inspired decor. When she looked at the loft, it was covered in silks and pillows. There was a small table with a crystal ball, and along the wall of loft existed all her jars of captured spirits which had followed her from her previous life. All her things were there.

Xanadu looked lost in her own shop. She found two sets of cards on the bar table next to the cash register. One set were for the services of Madame Xanadu, the other were for someone by the name of Inara.

Xanadu had never heard that name before.

"At times the world can seem an unfriendly and sinister place. But believe us when we say there is much more good in it than bad. All you have to do is look hard enough. And what might seem to be a series of unfortunate events, may in fact, be the first steps of a journey."

Violet Baudelaire had slipped away from the group long enough to hop inside a dumpster to grab some bits of wire she had spotted when it happened. It had only been a few months since her escape from the island and her eyes were the biggest clues, for a young lady of 16 she was haunted. But something had happened while she was digging for the wire and she was no longer in a dumpster outside a London science expo, she was now in The City. When she came out with the wires Violet just looked around for several minutes and realized something,"This is not the expo or even London" as she hopped out with wires and her purse in tow.

As she walked to try and locate the expo Violet had a feeling this was just the first steps of another journey. She had no idea while in the dumpster she had been transported into The City and it showed as she walked. But a young woman in an old fashioned skirt and blouse would sort of stick out along with the little bag of parts tucked into her purse. Dark eyes scanned the various shops and people as she walked, looking for something or someone to lead her back to the expo.