The Universe's Mixer

Jo had started to explore the City about since her arrival, though she'd spent just as much time in the Roadhouse. Having it here was incredibly surreal, but it was a comfort. It gave her a home base, and something familiar. That was good, considering that she was as lost as ever in this City.

She still hadn't decided whether or not she was dead. No other theory made sense, but this wasn't like any kind of Heaven or Hell she'd ever heard of.

In the days leading up to New Year's Eve, she'd started to notice signs and flyers everywhere she went. It was lucky that she noticed these, because they were advertising drink specials and New Year's Eve entertainment at the Roadhouse. All Ages Accepted, bracelets for those over 21 to drink.

She knew she hadn't planned that. Hell, she hadn't even really been aware of what time of year it was when she got here. She didn't exactly know who to talk to or how to undo the advertising that had be done.

So New Year's Eve found her in the bar, which had been mysteriously decorated and was currently filled with the sounds of a live band. Which was really odd, because there had never been anything more than a jukebox in the Roadhouse, and Jo most certainly had not hired a live band.

All the same, she couldn't exactly complain about the flood of business (she was thankful for the employees that had apparently come with the place, who were fielding drink orders alongside her) or about the tips that she was raking in at the moment. And at least she wasn't spending New Year's Eve alone in some bizarre alternate dimension, so she supposed that was good. Assuming, of course, that she had time to think as she bustled around filling drink orders.


OOC: feel free to throw your character in for a little bit of New Year's Eve fun. Don't worry about taking turns, and feel free to branch off into random interactions threads or whathaveyou.

The last thing Jo remembered was resting her head on her mom's shoulder. She had been exhausted and she knew she had fought the good fight. She was just going to close her eyes for a few minutes, and open them again when the hounds came. She wasn't going to let her mom face the hounds alone.

When she did open her eyes, however, she wasn't in a hardware store. In fact, the first thing she noticed was that she could feel her legs again. Then there was the smell. Wood paneling mixed with stale cigarette smoke and whiskey. Home.

Her eyes darted around the room as her surroundings started to sink in. She was lying on a floor. A bar floor, to be exact. She turned her head ever so slightly, instantly recognizing the counter at the Roadhouse.

The Roadhouse? Jo frowned. The Roadhouse had been destroyed almost three years ago. It couldn't be.

She sat up slowly, her head spinning ever so slightly but otherwise feeling a whole lot better than she had just an hour ago. Her hands went to her neck, feeling not a gaping wound but the slightest outline of a scar. She lifted the bottom of her shirt and looked down at her side. More scars. Just barely ridged and faded as though she'd had years to heal. Or as though her injuries hadn't been that bad to begin with.

Her eyes closed again as she tried not to think about the memory of the hound's teeth tearing into her. Of the numbness that started to spread, dulling out the intense pain. The feeling of the life slowly draining out of her.

"The other side?" she wondered out loud, her throat dry and cracking on the words.

If it was, well, she wouldn't have expected to end up at the Roadhouse. As much as it had been her home, she'd also fought tooth and nail to get out of it. Then again, with everything she'd learned about angels over the last two years, she wouldn't put it past Heaven to not quite be all it was cracked up to be.

Jo blinked. For a sec, she could have sworn that it had snowed before everything had cleared to this. A lot must have happened that she had completely forgotten about. Maybe retroactive amensia wasn't that bad of a theory anymore.

Either way, she was still over by the Park, a place that she had a habit of visiting every now and again. It wasn't a bad place; Jo was rather fond of it whenever she had a free moment. Apparently that meant she was there a lot, as she wandered around aimlessly. She wasn't sure what she wanted to do, or even if she wanted to do anything at all. She felt worn down and worn out. That was a feeling that was new to her, but she wasn't sure why. A weariness that she had never known had settled down on her, and the feeling wasn't all that welcome. She felt like a stranger, which in some ways she was in the City.

Settling down on a bench, she considered her options. There weren't a lot of them. She could always go home and never leave her apartment. But what would be the point of that? Reaching into her back pocket, she pulled out an old newspaper. Or a new one. She didn't know. All she knew was, she needed to busy herself, to find something to do.

"All I need now is advice, you figure," she said to herself. "Too bad ain' no one to give it."

Claire was confused, she didn't know what was going on. It was entirely possible that she'd zoned out. She had a lot on her mind, what with Meredith being gone now and all. She had even more reason to want to hurt Sylar now. He'd killed her mother. Her biological mother. She'd never even gotten to know Meredith, and now she never would. Yes, she was grieving, but there had to be more.

She was not where she'd been before and everyone that had been with her was gone. Claire was alone right now. Alone, but she wasn't scared. She was more than confused, but she wasn't scared. She didn't need to be scared, right? She was invincible.

Still, she needed to know where she was and what was happening. How had she even gotten here? And where exactly was here?

Claire wasn't sure what to do next, maybe find someone with some answers. She knew one thing though, if Sylar ever showed up here, she would make him pay for what he did to Meredith.

Call it the December blues, the lack of holiday spirit, or the fact that Jo was never happy in the weeks after a zombie clean up operation. Besides coming closing her life and losing contact with one Dean Winchester, Jo had lost her cell phone to the force of gravity, concrete and some zombie's shoe. Great. Now with no communication, no change, and no pay phone, Jo had been forced to retreat with what remained of her supplies and regroup away from her apartment, wherever it was now. She hadn't been able to find her way back just yet, and part of her was almost afraid of what Dean would say to her when she found him again. Would he be made that she had not listened to him? In truth, she couldn't remember ever listening to him in the first place, except for when she was being saved. But she hadn't needed saving. Not this time.

Wandering the City at this hour of night, Jo just felt down in general. Her search for a new cell phone hadn't gone all that well, even with the holidays in full swing. She had just liked her old one too much. Maybe she didn't want one after all, although her search for quarters hadn't gone over that well either. She sighed, brushing her blonde hair away from her face before tucking her hands back into her jacket pockets. What was she so afraid of? It couldn't have been that hard to track down a cell phone distributor and to get a new phone with her old number back, except that it was.

Maybe she needed a drink after all.

Her cell phone lay in pieces a few feet away as Jo steadied herself. She had probably completely lied to Dean. Her, staying out of trouble? That was just not going to happen, and against her better judgment, she had gone out without telling him. And a few hours later, despite her promise that she would call him, it just wasn't possible, given that her cell phone was nothing more than a few pieces of metal and plastic on the sidewalk. The other pieces were currently sticking out of the hand of one zombie. And that zombie was walking right toward her, looking like the dumb thing that it was. Yep, that was Jo, and for the life of her, she was not about to die because she was a zombie. No ma'am, no way, no how.

Raising up her shotgun to eye level, Jo steadied her arm, as bruised and bleeding as it was. There was probably nothing more appetizing to a zombie right then than Jo's arm, and for the life of her, she hated it. Without a word, she aimed right for the spot between his eyes. Her arm, however, was not doing so good. In the end, she shot him in the nose, and he took it as all zombies did. But going until they stopped. Forcing her arm up again, she hit him again in between the eyes, watching as it fell on top of what was left of her phone. Jo grimaced, stepping over it and running on. Her attempts at finding help had so far failed. The outcome wasn't looking all that great.

"Dean's going to kill me for this one. Dammit!"

Checking her shotgun, she belatedly realized that she only had a few rounds left for her shotgun.

"Double dammit."

The bed was usually comfortable. Soft with good smelling pillows and warm blankets. Dean's eyes opened and he was greeted by the sight of a pretty blonde head, soft face and his arms around her as he held her while they slept. He laid there watching her, moving a hand to reached up and brush some hair back from her face.

He felt content and safe for the first time, even since hooking back up with his brother. He really should call Sam, let him know where he was. Not that Dean thought his brother was the least bit worried about him. He didn't even think his brother cared he was around any more which really wasn't like him at all.

Dean carefully slipped his arms from around Jo, deciding he needed to do two things. Restroom and then make coffee. He picked up his clothing as he went into the bathroom, using it and dressing partially. His jeans were on as well underwear and socks before he ventured out and padded into the kitchen.

He found the coffee maker and started preparing it, opening a cabinet door he pulled the coffee out and when he closed it, he jumped for Castiel was standing there. "Damnit, Castiel," he looked towards the room then back to him, his voice now low, "What are you doing here?"

"To warn you," The dark haired angel spoke with his soft voice.

"Warn me? About what? Sam, you already did that. Or is it Jo?" He looked towards the room.

"You are in for a battle, Dean, keep those you trust by you," He moved away from the counter. "You are gonna need them. This battle is gonna be hard, dangerous and ... eye opening." He turned to face Dean. "You are gonna need help, lots of it." He paused then stepped closer to Dean, "Choose wisely, Dean. Because the one you think, might not be the one you think."

"What?" Dean heard a noise and turned his head toward the bedroom but when he turned back to ask more, Castiel was gone. He muttered under his breath as he went back to making coffee. Maybe he should make them breakfast as well.

Since that day, things had just didn't seem right. The memories of what happened had flooded back to him. The hell hounds ripping him apart. Blood and the pain. And then blackness. Haunting images of blood, screams in his ear, and then he woke. Crawling his way out of a grave. Only to learn later he was risen by an Angel. Angel of God. Who told him he had work to do.

Dean found himself in a bar. A glass before him with some whiskey. How many glasses had it been? He had no idea or even cared. He tipped the glass up to his lips when he felt the light of a door opening hit his eyes. He turned his head to see who walked in.

Please let it be some hot chick.




ETA Update: This has gone to NC-17, don't read if you are not interested in that. But it has gotten hot.

Flicking her lighter on and off, Jo emerged from the alleyway as the sun was just beginning to set. Her truck was far, far away, with her shotgun handy in her other hand, the barrel tilted downwards. That was all she needed beyond her father's knife tucked in a sheath in her back pocket. Glancing behind her and then to the lighter taking up all of her attention, Jo looked for the tell-tale sign of the oil barrel she had left outside. The zombies would be out soon, and hopefully, with all the people she had scared away, the place was deserted and she would not be arrested for accidentally murdering someone by blowing up practically the whole facility full of the undead. At least, that was hopefully going to be the plan.

Her boots echoing on the sidewalk in the abandoned warehouse-esque district she was in, Jo sighed and watched the alley. She had brought back Dick to her house to get him cleaned up. She didn't know if he was still there, even if a small part of her wished he was. She had been half busy looking up more classified ads to get her a job and actively going to those jobs to see if she could get a spot. The landlord had pretty much threatened to kick her out if she couldn't get a means of income. One job was going to get back to her, apparently. She wasn't going back to bar-tending again. That had been enough after some green gigantic thing had practically torn her last job to splinters, leaving it in rubble with multiple patron cars just a hunk of metal. No way was she going to invite that to happen again.

Flame on, flame off, the lighter flickered to life before dying. Just one spark was all she needed in order to get the needed results. Hopefully those undead buggers wouldn't notice a thing when they woke up. It wasn't like they could smell anything beyond human flesh, and that was mainly because that's what they ate when they didn't infect other people. Jo hated those things, mainly because parts of them went missing quite often, and it was horrid to look at. Spying the oil drum, Jo put the lighter away in her pocket and used her father's knife to poke a hole before picking it up. Grunting, she muttered something about the ones being inside the warehouses being a lot easier to pick up because they had handles. Heaving it onto its side before dropping it, Jo kicked the oil drum down the alley, following after it as it rolled and spun and got stuck.

A few seconds later, a zombie had emerged from the end of the alley, taken one look at the oil drum, then at Jo, and had gotten hungry. Stopping and turning around, the other exit from the warehouse was opening. Jo turned to look back and closed her eyes. "Crap." Hefting her shotgun, Jo began to run, shoving anything and everything out of her way until she slid onto the outside street. Fumbling with the lighter in her pocket, Jo nearly dropped it before she noticed how much lighter fluid she had left. Hopefully it would be enough. Igniting the flame and tossing it into the alley, Jo turned and ran as fast as she could to avoid the blast that suddenly rocked a whole city block.

"I hate zombies!

Okay. Dick sat up, blinking into sunlight he hadn't expected to see. He was behind some kind of industrial warehouse; the place was deserted, except for him.

The good news was that he wasn't dead. In fact, that was more than good news, that was the best freaking news Dick had heard in a long time. When a building comes down on your head in the middle of a chemical warfare attack, standing up in good air is a miracle. So he was alive. "...YES!" Fist-pump into the air. Dick was glad to be alive.

Okay, next. He still had his backpack, which had a number of useful things in it along with his mask and uniform. He was still in jeans and a t-shirt, which were only a little dusty. Some minor cuts and abrasions, but no concussion symptoms. With difficulty, he could stand up with the one crutch that seemed to have survived the trip from Bludhaven to here. (Wherever 'here' was. He would figure that out later.)

Dick hobbled around the edge of the warehouse, looking around for anyone who might be able to tell him where he was. He stopped short and stared at a completely unfamiliar skyline--a skyline where he was somehow able to make out Gotham's Clocktower in the horizon. "What the hell?" Dick said, stunned.

After a moment, he kept hobbling, heading for the Clocktower, still mumbling to himself. "What the hell?"

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.

Jo was beginning to wonder if it was humanly possible to prevent someone from leveling a building. A gigantic hulking green thing had managed to do it to her last job.

Not that Jo was running, but to be quite honest, that one incident had convinced her to give up bar tending for the time being. Sure, she got great tips because she was good at her job, but seriously, she only needed one green thing destroying her lifestyle before she knew she had to switch gears. Now came the bigger problem: who in the world would hire her? Blond, skinny, and really not that bulky looking, even if she could wield a mean shot gun. That narrowed down her choices by a lot. She really had no patience for being a waitress, which would have been her other option. The only problem was that if she took a job in one of those places, they'd probably have a short skirt to go with it, and by God she was done with guys looking at her like that. Ellen wasn't there anymore to frighten them off.

Not a lot of her stuff had made it out of the wreckage. What little she had managed to save came from going around the back and pulling out her bag, so at the very least she had some Hunter charms and various other pieces of protect with her. But that wasn't going to get her far either. Stealing a truck, she had managed to stay out the way for a while. But the money was running out, and without a job, she wasn't getting anywhere. Hunting was thankless work.

Sitting on a park bench with her truck parked nearby, Jo wondered if this was a sign that the City wanted her out.

Jo wasn't sure what exactly happened to people who had amnesia and then got their memory back again. Did they go back to their jobs? Jo had to admit that maybe it was that way for her. She had no formal education in anything, except for maybe hustling people and bar tending. Growing up in a roadhouse had perhaps yielded to her some information after all. She wasn't sure what the City was up to, but after trying to find the bar where she used to work, she was forced to go job hunting again. The one thing about bars was that if you had a pretty face, chances were that they would hire you. That is, except for when the bar maid that they hired pulled out a shotgun and knew how to use it. That either made sure she stayed or made sure that she got fired.

She was on bar number three for employment before she finally found a permanent job of sorts. The owner was nearly as drunk as his patrons, and for that, Jo was grateful, especially when she could point a shotgun in his face and not get fired. It made the job interesting. The more interesting thing was that the owner's wife seemed to be running the whole operation from behind the scenes, and instantly made sure that Jo got a room in the back after she pointed the shotgun.

Cleaning off the bar after a long night of serving drinks and cleaning it, Jo wasn't surprised that quite a few people were passing by outside. The bar never officially closed, serving well into the wee hours of the morning just to make the money needed to run the place. Jo had been in plenty of bad places before, and this really wasn't so bad. Especially when the men didn't know the dollar bills that they pulled out for tips. Her weapons were safely stored in the back, and right after this, Jo was going to close up. She had to get Hunting again, it was like a beacon calling out to her.

Continued from here

"A map." Hannibal mused. He stood up and went to the pile of mail he'd left here some time ago. There was a map in that. "I don't know what good it will do you."

He set it down on the table next to the girl. "Most of the places move. But there are some that don't. And those are here on this map. It's good that you're already feeling a sense of familiarity. But don't push on it too hard, lest you lose it."

Hannibal took his seat and sat back again, waiting for a sign that she was ready to continue. They'd go at her pace, of course. He didn't want to break her, but help her. Maybe he'd regret this, he had no idea. He didn't know who she was or what she did. But the challenge was too much to ignore.

He stole a quick look at her notepad, instantly forming a memory of the names there. None of them were anything he recognized. But they'd be good to keep a hold of anyway, just in case.

"I think it's safe to say that if you're here now, you've been here a while. Maybe the sense of before that you have isn't that you left and came back, it's that perhaps you've been unknowing of your self for so long it just feels like another lifetime. Does that make sense?"

(Yes, I know it's late, but hey, random and late is better than never is good, right?)

Jo surveyed her truck, which was currently sitting in the middle of a junk yard, with a whole bunch of other strange objects sticking randomly out of piles that looked like they had no order whatsoever. She eyed it critically. It would need a new windshield, as well as a few new doors. Either way, it was clear that she would need a new truck of some kind unless she had money to save it. She doubted that, unless she could hustle it out of some people, and that would take time. So stealing a new car would have to do for now, as much as she hated to admit it to herself. Hands on her jean clad hips, Jo just shook her head, blond hair flying nearly everywhere as she did so.

"What am I gonna do with you?" she asked her truck, not expecting a response. It was a rhetorical question after all. "Better yet, how did you get here?" Last time she had seen it was when the Hospital staff had showed it to her, and it didn't look it could be moved. All the tires were gone, hubcaps gone. Doors like they were smashed in, which meant that Jo had exited the truck headfirst probably by flying out the dashboard. At least it explained the hole, but it didn't explain the reason why her head was still intact. Maybe it was the City and it's amazing medical skills. She nearly snorted, but stopped herself. The City it seemed had its own agenda, and she was perhaps better off not knowing.

Turning to the rest of the scrap metal, alien to Jo and probably all other humans, she arched an eyebrow. "Now where the hell did I hide my gun?"

Jo had no idea who she was or where she was, that somehow, that seemed ok. She wasn't sure how, or why, but it just seemed right not to know. The people at the Hospital had called her Jane Doe. She honestly liked the last name, although she had an icky feeling about the Jane part. They had showed her the stuff that had been in the car they had found her is, cracked glass at all. The truck hadn't done much to jumpstart Jo's memory, except for the feeling that she had been going somewhere important. The heavy feeling of something she needed to remember had been there, and then it had gone. Oh well.

So they had given back most of her stuff. Amidst all the IDs, fake and otherwise, they had found some kind of permit that allowed for her to have a gun, but they hadn't given that back yet. At least, not until Jo had taken it back personally. Most of her weaponry, including a knife had been buried in a place that she would struggle to remember until the day she got her memory back. If she indeed ever got it back. Part of her knew that part. The feelings that she got wouldn't go away though, such as how this place seemed familiar, or even some of the people. Of course, she could never work up the courage to go after those thoughts. She simply thought she wasn't ready yet.

So out on the streets of the City, Jo just stood there on a street corner, staring up at the sky and wondering if something had put her here completely by accident. Her hands fingered the worn jeans that had been found among a bag of clothing. That she had taken gratefully, because the plastic hospital clothes really hadn't been all the comfortable, even if they had the word 'cotton' or something in their label. Jo had just been grateful to get out of there. She had another strange feeling that she didn't like Hospitals too much.

"Don' suppose they got a map of a place like this," she said, Southern accent still the same. At least that was one clue to her identity.

"Well, sooner or later our Jane Doe has to wake up."

Jo woke up to the feeling of a brick hitting her in the head, and wondering how exactly her brain hadn't gotten bashed in. Everything felt numb, even before she opened her eyes to see where she was. It felt weird, to say the least. She was pretty sure this had never happened to her before, and she was certain that whatever feeling this was, she would do anything to not feel it again. She swallowed as she opened her eyes, feeling the brief satisfaction of something going down her dry throat before it instantly became dry again. She blinked.

She was facing a while ceiling. She briefly wondered if she was dead or worse. Moving her head slighty, she winced at the brief pain that she felt as she reached up to feel a white bandage over a spot on her head. Confusion was the first thing in her mind. When had this happened? She tried to move anything else. It took a while for her to feel her toes and for them to move. But nothing suggested where she was, not even when she propped herself up on her elbows to take a look. Well, she was on a bed, which was something. Her clothes were gone too, and a weird piece of clothing that wasn't hers was on her. She didn't like this, the feeling of knowing something yet not knowing something at the same time.

Her hands felt strangely empty despite the wires in her skin. She wasn't sure what belonged there, but she felt an emptiness as it seemed to hold something invisible for a moment. Turning her head, she brushed her hair out of the way, wondering if anything was ever going to be the same.

"Where am I?"