The Universe's Mixer

It was often Beauty's habit to sit on her porch among the fading scent of jasmine and watch the sunrise. This morning was no exception. As the early morning silver faded into shades of blue and violet and orange and pink, a brighter delight slid over her. The stable was back again.

The Here-and-Gone Stable, which is what she'd named it some years ago, sometimes appeared on the hill just across from her cottage. When it did, there were beautiful horses whickering and nickering for someone to come and take them out of their pens. She didn't hesitate when the sunrise lit the rooftops of that stable, but launched herself off the porch and dropped into a sprint. Not much later, she'd picked out a lovely white mare.

Usually she'd take her horse through the park, but this morning, there was a path into the woods. On a lark, she nudged her beast toward the twining trees and stretching vines, and onto the dirt path that slid into the morning shadows.

A few minutes later, it seemed like a mistake. The path had all but vanished, and she was about to turn around and head back -- until the strange crashing sounds came to her. Her mount high stepped and shimmied, and Beauty almost immediately slid off, her palms coming up to sooth the upset horse with soft touches and softer coos. When her horse had settled, she tied the reins to a low-hanging branch, then turned toward the sounds.

From the edges of the clearing, she watched a very familiar figure systematically destroy a huge log cabin. She knew this man. Logan. He had a strange sort of pull on her. When he finally stilled, she waited, then took the few steps she needed to get herself within arms reach.

"Hello," she said gently, her face creased with worry that was clear to see, even in this early morning light.

The sheets were far too cold this morning.

Logan inhaled a long, drawn out snap of air and released it just as heavily. Her scents filled him completely and warned his skin more than his blood ever could. Giselle. There was something about her, about that untouched innocence that Logan adored. He didn't let himself fall for anyone so easily, it had taken him a good while to come around to committing to Giselle. How she had managed to tether him to her, he wasn't sure. And he definitely didn't mind. Everything about her was pure gold, her smile was the best part and her laugh came second - a music all on its own with an enchanting sound that captivated his interest instantly. He only ever wanted to keep her happy, to make her promises he could keep.

The idea that she could vanish never crossed his mind. Logan was fully aware that Giselle missed her home, that people came and went here, and that somehow they all managed to cope with the ever unstable terrain. But, selfishly, Logan never guessed it could happen to him.

A shift and Logan's palm glanced the wrinkled sheets of his bed. He buried his face in to his pillow, flexing his fingers against the cloth that was void of body heat.

Curious, the man opened his eyes and tilted his head so he could glance over at her side. Instantly, upon not finding her there where she usually was at this hour, Logan's heart began to race. His ears listened for any small sound of motion, any light footsteps, any humming...any heartbeats...the cabin was void of human sounds. He could hear the structure's natural sounds, the soft groans and creaks, but no familiar human noises.

That struck him as odd.

Frowning, Logan slid out of the bed, pulled on decent clothes that he'd cast off the evening before when everything had been right, and headed for the kitchen. There was no coffee brewing. No breakfast being made. Odd. It was odd.

With a grunt, Logan sniffed the air and found her scent there. It was faded, like scents normally can be, but he could still pick up on it. Eagerly, Logan tracked it outside, following the steadily fading aroma of his heart. In town, he found no trace of her. It was far too early in the morning for any of the shops to be open for business, and anything that was open smelled wrong.

He searched the City, tracking the scent back to the cabin.

Just as he had left it, no lights were on. No smoke cascading from the chimney he'd constructed with his own hands. Nothing.

His shoulders slumped. And then out came the claws. In a flash of fury and rage, teeth and roars of heartbreak and pain, Logan tore the cabin apart bit by bit, nail by nail. He destroyed it, the Berserker taking over easily. When the cabin was entirely demolished, the surrounding trees sitting in various stages of chips, leaving naught but the foundation did Logan stop. He closed his eyes, retracted his claws and sank to his knees amidst the splinters.

Today was not going to be a very good day.

The task was finally complete.

The brick and mortar laid. The structure tall and strong. The inside regal and suitable for its occupant. It had been a chore long awaiting completion and now that time had finally come. Logan could look at the structure and be proud of what he had built. He could only hope that Maleficent liked it just as much as he did. He had built it to her exact specifications, down to the last bauble of decoration.

At present, Logan was fitting the last panel of curtain in the living area, a vast expanse of luxury and wealth. Though it exuded regality, there was something about the home that never lost its charm. It was a fortress, a protective lair, but a home just the same. It wasn't without its secrets, Logan had built the place with divots and perches, places for the Queen and her bird to conceal themselves if anyone found themself brave enough to take on the home and invade it.

He doubted that would ever happen, someone would have to be out of their mind to approach Maleficent with haste and the intent to do harm. She could fend for herself, he had seen some of her magic work. And there was always the ring, that circle of a connection they shared between them in the event something did happen that she couldn't control.

Logan slid down the ladder, folded it up and carried it down through the hallway to the foyer. Crossing the threshold, the mutant crossed out in to the sunlight and carried the ladder back to the truck. He secured it with tie downs and then turned to behold the small structure that the Queen had taken as residence while he finished her home. It was time to tell her.

Without a glance at the truck, Logan moved for the smaller abode. Once at the door he paused and knocked gently, knowing he could knock the thing over if he wanted to without much effort. "Maleficent? You home?" He called softly. He didn't need to shout, that wasn't necessary. But he didn't know if she was home or not either.

He would just have to wait and see.

Brick by brick the structure was quickly becoming less of a skeleton and more of a home. There were plans, blueprints to follow and a strict timeline to adhere to. Logan maintained a level of loyalty with his crew, the best in The City, and still managed to keep his promise to Giselle. He was home every evening for supper and though he left before the sun rose, he knew she would understand. They had come to terms with where they stood, and once this project was in its final stages he could focus more of his time on her. Which, ultimately, was what he wanted deep down inside.

It had been a few weeks since the project had begun, and being the powerful creature that he was, Logan was able to do much more work than anyone else. That helped speed things along quite nicely.

The outer structure has sprung up almost overnight, the foundation cared for with consideration of the land. It would be sturdy and hold for ages as long as it was well tended to. Any cracks in the Earth met with water, and keeping the foundation itself just moist enough to prevent shifting. But it was becoming complete. Beginning to look like itself.

After the foundation and skeleton, Logan had fashioned the bricks and mortar, minding the doors and windows. The inner structure was completed as the outside was, and slowly but surely (or quicker in his case) it began to take shape. Logan had a feeling that in the completion of the home entirely, his friend would be satisfied with it. She would know the care, the diligence and the effort it took to create such a thing in the first place.

Without her approval, Logan did take the executive measure to add a few places for her bird friend to stoop should he choose to. Most houses weren't built to accommodate avian companions, thus Logan took it upon himself to ensure happiness for both the mistress and for her friend. Along with plenty of roosting spaces, most with enough privacy for a bird tha could still give it view of its mistress, Logan added in a small aviary. He would eventually fill it with trees and wildflowers to mimic the land it was being built on. That would come later.

By staying on task, Logan expected to have the abode completed the week before Christmas. That included painting the inside, the decor, and any fine tuning that might be needed at the time. Otherwise, he was set on that deadline. Nothing would stop him from completing his task because of what lay ahead for him once he was finished. That was all he could ever want.

The sun had set long ago. Unlike many of her nights, Giselle hadn't strayed to the valley in the forest to watch the mountainside turn gold and pink and purple. Instead, she'd found her way from the attic window to the top of Logan's cabin, and there she sat on the roof, watching the sky as it shaded from soft blue to deep navy.

Here in the forest, they were sheltered from the garish City lights. It was almost like home - almost, except that she couldn't ever forget that this was no Andalasia... and her life was very much different, here.

Logan had been gone for longer than she particularly liked. It was strange, living with the man. He was an odd combination of kind and fierce, but never fierce to her. She'd hate to be his enemy. She imagined most of his enemies felt that way, too. There were many good things about Logan. One of them was not how much she missed him. Was it wrong, to miss someone as she missed him? It didn't feel wrong, but it felt terribly un-right, as well. She didn't think she was ever going to make sense of it.

A sound from well behind her caught her attention. She crawled over the roof peak and saw him walking in toward the cottage. A bright smile caught her and she waved happily. He didn't see her. He seemed to be lost in his own thoughts, and she wondered --

-- she didn't wonder what he was thinking for long, because her bare foot slipped from where it was bracing her. She squealed and clutched for anything and missed everything on her slide downward.

She had remained secluded for too long, she thought. It had been some time since she'd last seen the face of another. Diaval was fine company, of course, but the Fairy Queen was realizing that she had need of company. That she actually missed people. She thought many times of Evey Hammond, Ben Flynn, and Eric Draven. She thought more of Logan.

Diaval knew that she needed to get out of the forest and explore, but the witch was stubborn. It took him a very long time to convince her to make an exit, and then she refused to let him go find Logan or Selina, he knew it was because she didn't want to be entirely alone for even that long.

Finally, Maleficent decided upon the ring that she'd made for her friend. It was supposed to be used in emergency situations, she'd told him that if she ever needed him, she would let him know through the ring. She needed him now, but it wasn't dire. Diaval reminded her that it was her magic, and she could bend it to her will. Eventually she relented.

Her eyes closed, she concentrated. Through the ring she sent a warm sensation. A request, instead of a demand. A whisper instead of a scream. Maleficent hoped that Logan would understand she was not in trouble, not that kind.

Then she waited.

The room was nice. It was almost like the guest room at Alison's, but it was not. Alison's guest room is neat and clean, but this room has been decorated with flowers and stuffed things. Helena likes flowers and stuffed things, but she was instantly wary because this was not Alison's guest room and she does not like surprises.

She found clothes, soft and pretty like the other things in the room, and put them on. She walked out of the room and found a small house, or an apartment. It was an apartment. It was clean and comfortable, and there was food on the counter. Helena immediately went to the food and began to eat, because that is the smart thing to do and the food looked good. As she finished a bunch of grapes, she saw the paper. The writing was not in English. The letters were Cyrillic, and the language was Ukranian. She knew this language. She read the words, then read them again. She crumpled the letter in her hand.

The letter said that her babies are not in her stomach any more. Her babies are safe, but they cannot be here with her right now. Her science babies will be returned when she leaves, whenever that is. The letter was signed, "The City."

The apartment did not feel so nice now. Helena was angry, and if she did not have babies in her stomach then she wanted to drink. She left the apartment without locking it and went to see where she was now that she had no babies and no family.

The cabin, for the most part, had been relatively quiet. Logan tended to like it that way considering the fact that just about everything else behind the doors was chaotic and noisy. Not that he wasn't a man of action when the situation called for it, and he had been known to start a fight or two in his time, but now that Giselle was around Logan found himself trying to hold on to the quieter moments. That was not the first time in his life he had felt that way, Japan had brought a lot of solace to him as well when it could. It almost felt like home in a way, the familiarity of it touching him some.

Logan was settled on a chair in the kitchen, the newspaper spread out before him. He was browsing through it, trying to keep up with current events. Beyond the random appearances of dinosaurs, something he was used to by now with time spent in the jungle, there was not much else that captured his attention. If the dinosaurs got out of hand...well, this place did have its share of heros that would probably stand up long before Logan had to. Which he didn't mind.

Somewhere about Logan could hear Giselle getting up to whatever it is that had taken her heart. She did so much around the cabin as far as cooking and upkeep. Logan appreciated it.

He had things of his own that took his attention, people that needed tending to and assistance when he could give it. He had yet to bring up the subject of Melody, not that he wanted to discuss it with Giselle. He would keep it to himself for as long as he could not wanting to burden the woman with what he had been up to. Logan wanted nothing more than for her to be happy and he would not dampen her spirits if he could help it. At least, he would try his hardest not to.

From out of nowhere came a knock at the door. Then another. The very wood itself seemed to groan with the impact, which had Logan narrowing his eyes in distaste. The paper was folded neatly and set upon the kitchen table for later before the mutant rose from his chair. "Better be good..." Logan mumbled, heading for the door.

It swung open and already his fingers were clamped down, biting against his palm ready to strike when he saw a familiar face. That was not a face Logan cared much to see. "Help you?" He was trying to be polite for Giselle's sake. He really was.

They had never really set a spot in which to perform this test but Logan had enough smarts to know that a thing of this caliber warranted all of the privacy that could be had. That was why Logan had chosen a secluded grove off toward the outskirts of the main parts of the town, closer to that creepy wall than he'd ever like to be. The energy it gave off didn't settle well with him, he hated the way it coursed over his skin. But he had made a promise to the young mutant and he was a man of his word. He hated everything that the barrier stood for and if he had the opportunity he would have torn the thing apart.

Logan had never mentioned Melody to Giselle. He didn't want the woman to worry about anything or try to interfere. This all could go so awry and Logan did not want Giselle caught up in the action. He didn't tell her where he was, or any thing remotely close to what he currently was planning. There were only three people that knew what the situation called for. Himself, Melody and the woman Logan had brought with him.

The prospect of finding the perfect candidate had not been a difficult one. The young woman he had happened upon was terminally ill, a brain tumor was growing at an alarming rate within the cerebral tissue beneath her skull. It had already produced a lesion the size of a golf ball which was visible if looked at from the right side. The patient had no family, she was by herself. She was perfect.

Logan had brought the patient to the scrap of land when Melody was ready, and once they had arrived Logan texted the young mutant to give her the location. The wind blew around him as he texted. He hated texting. It was pointless. Or maybe he was just old-fashioned. And what the fuck was a selfie?

Shaking his head, Logan punched in the last of the sentence, and sent it to Mel. He snapped the cell phone shut and shoved it into a pocket. It sat gently against the revolver that already had been in the clothed depths. It had been so long since he had used a gun, Logan normally was more hands on when it came to fighting but the point was to see how Melody held up to the bullets. So he had bought a gun and brought it with him. He had not dilvulged that information to the terminal girl, she didn't need to know all of that.

"Where are we?" The young woman asked, looking around at the place. It was quaint for a death scene. "Won't be too much longer now. I promise."

Logan had been so busy lately putting the current finishing touches on the last part of the gym that needed tending to. The only thing left to work on was the name. He had something he had been toying with, an idea of what to entitle the place but he had no right to even attempt to name something with a title that didn't belong to him. The work he had poured into the facility showed; he was glad to see Steve Rogers utilizing it for its purposes on the regular. It pleased the Wolverine a great deal knowing his place was useful. That he could still amount to something.

But completion of the building meant that the time spent with Giselle working on the task was also done and she would once more need a task to occupy herself with. He enjoyed her company a great deal and he knew he could get caught up in his work, which he had. When Giselle retired from painting her mural and retired to the cabin, Logan often found himself working onward without her. On the promise to return soon, of course. Though some nights had turned into days and then nights again before he returned to the cabin exhausted and in need of a shower. The exhaustion never lasted, he was built with more stamina then anyone would know what to do with, but still.

It had paid off, though. And he was satisfied with it.

He waited patiently at the table in the kitchen for Giselle. Perched in the seat, Logan browsed the last bits of the day's previous paper though the sunlight pouring through the kitchen window dwindled. His keen eyesight allowed sharpness of the words despite the growing darkness. Logan had promised to take Giselle out, whatever she wanted to do, for being away from her so much. He felt he owed it to her and he wanted to ask a favor of her. That unfinished part of the gym commanded it. Steve Rogers needed a name to call the place he went to blow off steam. Logan would give it to him one way or another. But first things first.

"Hmm...intrestin'," Logan breathed softly to himself. He closed the paper, folded it gently and set it aside so that his hands were free to devour the last of the beer in the neglected brown glass bottle nearby. It was warm and bitter but it soothed him while he waited. Ever so patiently.

Building a gym was no easy feat. Logan had taken on the task because it was necessary. Everyone that possessed skills beyond normal human range deserved a place to release stress. He designed to place to withstand those that were heavy hitters, the ones that could take strong blows, who were capable of dishing out a lot of power. Not just physical power, either. There were all types of power in this world. Logan wanted nobody left out of the know when the time came that they began to spread it. Well, he didn't want humans to know. But anyone else was fine.

There were a lot of mutants in The City, a lot of their old breed of X-Men were running about. Logan knew the ones that had come from the Savage World, and he had been aware of the ones that weren't. He knew about the phone book, and the Directory. He knew Melody was in town but he had been so busy with Giselle and constructing his gym. He hadn't been keeping track of Laura or Megan, either. Both girls were fine on their own without him, and he knew that if they did need him....well, they knew how to get in touch.


He had yet to find a name for his construct, he hadn't really found anything that he had liked. Of course, there was one name that had a ring to it.... The name of Giselle's home. It sounded peaceful and welcoming, which was what Logan wanted out of his own place. If he thought about it, he would ask her if he might use it. If she wouldn't let him, he would understand but he had a feeling she would delight in the small request. Just the thought of her delighted and smiling warmed him.

Logan might have been smiling absently like a dummy again. He had to stop doing that in public.

Shaking off the feeling, Logan proceeded down the sidewalk, heading for the hardware store. He needed to gather a few things to put the finishing touches on the nameless gym. Absently he was curious to see how Giselle's mural was going. Perhaps he would pick up some supplies for her too.

But his thoughts de-railed at a familiar smell surrounding him. It was the smell of death, a scent Logan knew and one that often got his blood churning. But this odor was different. It had a living essence to it. And it brought a small smile to his lips. "Melody."

The sun hadn't quite yet made it up into the sky yet, but Giselle was already very hard at work in the kitchen. She was trying to be quiet, but every so often she'd make a tiny little sound - the soft clang of a pot touching the side of another pot, or the squeal of an un-oiled drawer as she opened it. Overall, though, she believed she was being highly stealthy, and she was quite proud of herself.

On the arm of the couch, Pip was still sleeping. He never was a morning chipmunk, and Giselle was quite surprised he even managed to make it this far. Then again, it wasn't every day she cooked such a sumptuous breakfast - and she'd been planning it all week with her dear friend.

It was meant to be a surprise for Logan. After all the kindnesses he'd shown her and all the special care he'd given her, she wanted to do something very nice for him. So, before he left today, she wanted to make him a lovely meal.

The trick was making something without making any noise. She didn't want to wake him up. And, she knew she couldn't actually do the cooking until he was awake, or it'd all get cold. So, right now, she was preparing every last detail -- from the sprigs of herbs, finely minced, to the clean white linen on the table. And all of it, she was doing as quietly as she possibly could.

It was noisy at the gym, and it wasn't the kind of noise Steve was used to. He was used to barracks, where the chatter was overly cheerful, enthusiastic. Men who were shoving aside the realities of being in a war, trying to enjoy themselves with others in the same boat. They joked, and they teased, but in general, they respected one another and held together. If one soldier went down, they all went down, so there had been camaraderie, fellowship, and a grim determination to stick through it all together.

Even SHIELD had kept a sense of that. Steve hadn't usually had much of a crowd in the training rooms there, but when others were around, it was the same sense of togetherness. People who shared a common goal, working together. Holding together.

( The noise here was ugly. )

Logan wandered slowly down the sidewalk. He hadn't the opportunity to explore the City, spending most of his time at the cabin with Giselle. The good-natured woman was good for him, despite what his reputation in women was. Mostly Logan dabbled in females of the foreign cultures, but technically Giselle wasn't from around anywhere normal. That counted as foreign, right?

Maybe.

He wasn't even sure if there was anything there. She was a nice girl. He didn't want her getting mixed up with him if she could help it. Giselle deserved much better.

And a brooding wander through the park seemed like just the thing.

Logan crossed the street, stepped over the curb and had just placed his hands into the pockets of a worn leather jacket that he had found in a closet in his cabin when the temperature seemed to plummet.

Every breath that escaped him was a fog against the air. Strange. The temperature in the City had been mild thus far, he wasn't sure if it could actually snow.

But perhaps it was proving him wrong.

"What the...?" Logan breathed, watching as fog left his lips and disappeared into the air. He wasn't cold by any stretch of a measure. Sub-arctic temperatures were by far his favorite, but it was curious.

Very curious.

Logan grunted, lifting a taped box up on to another in to one of the back closets of the cabin. He didn't feel right letting Giselle stay in a place that seemed strange and invaded to him. It was his place, but it smelled like someone else. A woman that Logan didn't know, which was evident by the clothes that took up space in both the master closet and the dresser drawers.

So, Logan had taken it upon himself to clean out all of the strange, too-suggestive items of clothes. Amidst the menagerie of silks and satins, leathers and lace he had found a few weapons, some toiletries and a few other random things that didn't belong. He had packed everything in boxes, taped them up and stowed them away out of sight. It felt better that way, as if he were cleaning cobwebs off of his most prized possessions. And really he was. But whomever owned that webbing....well, he hoped that they didn't find out any time soon.

With that done, Logan left all of the windows open in the cabin.

He wasn't sure if Giselle caught the mixtures of scents, but Logan did, and they were driving him crazy. Everywhere he went they were there trying to remind him of things he didn't know about in the first place. The rugs came from the floors and were hung outside on a line to air out, the furniture carried into the yard in effort to cleanse them of the smells.

And all the while Logan had found time to sneak out into the woods surrounding the cabin, and gather a good amount of flora that grew wild. He carried the handful of brightly colored, aromatic flowers hoping they would also help clean the air of the smell. And he hoped that Giselle liked them. The flowers ended up in a small container Logan had, a tin coffee can since he didn't own any vases, and he put them in the middle of the large kitchen table that he had made himself a very long time ago.

After a few hours of being outside, Logan carried everything back in to the house and arranged it to be like it had been before. The outside smells were now dominant in the cabin and Logan welcomed them with a large breath. And a sigh of relief. No longer did his place smell like some weird sex chamber, and the scent of fear, anxiousness and exhilaration were long gone too. Now it just smelled like sunshine, grass, flowers and the soft breeze.

It smelled more like home.

Boyd Crowder enjoyed a classic science fiction novel as much as the next appreciative reader, but he never had the strong desire to find himself inside of one. How else to account for the fact that he was lost, wandering inside the world's most generic city ever created on God's Green Earth, pardon the expression, or assuming he was even on the same planet anymore?

Boyd Crowder wasn't a City Boy. It wasn't that he couldn't appreciate the tall buildings or even that he'd never been in a city before. Why, Lexington was a considerable city in it's own right, but Boyd never had the desire to be trapped in one. He found a bus schedule, but there were no other destinations outside the metropolis. Hell, he would have hitchhiked but there were no great American highways that appeared to connect to this place.

"Alright then. Say I'm dreaming," he spoke calmly to himself. "I think I've just about overstayed my welcome and it might be time to wake up from this vivid locale."

He knew it wasn't a dream. Dreams were never this all encompassing. They didn't have the detail, the smell, the soft sound of traffic or chitter of urban wildlife. Boyd knew and yet it didn't quite stop him from hoping that this wasn't just the after effects of Jimmy's wake. Had services even been held? Boyd would have inebrieted himself more than enough for his subconscious to come up with something this peculiar, not just for Jimmy's death but the up in the air return of his ex-fiance.

He wasn't drunk in his dream. In fact, Boyd felt very sober. Perhaps it was time to change that. Mr. Crowder headed straight for the nearest bar thinking that a stiff bourbon might at least temporarily calm his anxieties.

Storm clouds notwithstanding, it had been a perfectly lovely morning on the tropical island Giselle was fast learning to call her home. The afternoon was shaping up rather nicely, too, she thought, as she pushed deeper into the thickness of the leafy jungle before her, a basket looped over one arm.

"Oh, thank you," she said sincerely, when her guide swept back a low-hanging branch for her to step under. But just as she did, the ground began to rumble. Giselle caught her balance on the nearest tree, but only briefly, only just before the rumbling turned into an all-out violent churning. She shrieked and tried to keep her feet under her, but it was of no use.

She found herself on her knees, arms over her head, trying to protect herself from anything that might fall. Terror consumed her breath and kept her silent, even if the ground itself seemed to want to shake her screaming loose.

The shaking stopped abruptly. When she opened her eyes, she was kneeling in the center of a smoothly-paved street, surrounded with great castles of glass and flat, seamless stone. Astonishment painted her face.

Jo had a lot on her mind these days. Her house had gotten an awful lot more crowded. She didn't mind the crowd, but it was an adjustment to have a five year old and a guy whom she was still just getting to know living with her. It was like... from far away, they might seem like any family. But up close, it was more three people who had been brought together by chance trying to navigate those waters. And typical families didn't have to worry about the five year old turning human beings into animals, or about hunters who might have a problem with that.

To add to all of that, the Roadhouse was back. Jo wasn't sure what to feel about the fact that Purgatory had disappeared and the City had gone back to having separate vampire and hunter bars. She didn't know if the protection spells were still in place over the Roadhouse, and she didn't know why it felt a little sad but oddly fitting that this was happening now that Eric was gone. Yes, she'd wished for it, but it had been a wish made out of anger and frustration.

Her apartment-the one that had been above the bar-was back too. She didn't know if that was the City giving her what she'd wished for or if maybe it was a sign that it was a time to move out and let Wash and Maxine do their thing. The five year old wasn't nearly as fond of her as she was of Wash. Not that Jo could blame her because Wash had taken to parenting like he was born to do this. Jo cared a lot for the little girl but still felt like she deserved better than a hunter who'd actually sought a life of impermanence and risk.

Speaking of said life, Jo caught on to something that seemed right up her alley. She still wasn't sure what was responsible, but there was a rash of mysterious disappearances that someone needed to look into. And really, what better way to get her mind off the heavy emotional things than going on an old-fashioned hunt?

Eventually, the trail of the missing women led her to a house in one of the older-looking neighborhoods in the City. On the outside, the house looked like it hadn't been touched in years. Jo picked the lock on the back door and took out her gun before entering the house. She stopped short as she saw the strands of what looked like a gigantic spider web inside.

"Shit," she muttered.

She was pretty sure that she knew what these were, and they were really damn rare. If she was right, she didn't know what she had in her arsenal that was going to kill it, but she knew that she was going to pump the creature full of a whole lot of bullets.

There was a hissing sound from somewhere inside and Jo knew that it was too late to turn around and try to go research this. In for a penny, in for a pound. A gigantic spider/man hybrid stepped out of the shadows and lunged for her. She didn't scream, but she did let out a whole torrent of swear words as she unloaded her gun in the direction of the advancing arachne.

(Warning! Graphic content! :))



( Let's spar! )

(Last post from us for a good while. I swears!)


( Regretful consequences... )