The Universe's Mixer

Dexter hadn't at all gotten over how disturbing it was that he was so good at the inane sport of bowling. There was no reason for it. It wasn't like he had done much in the way of practice. Just one day he'd been looking for a way to hide himself in plain sight, joined the bowling team, picked up a ball, and the rest is history.

With nothing else much to do in the City, taking up bowling again seemed like the best way to kill time. There were great long periods of time where nobody was murdered, and there was no blood spatter for him to analyze. After that came the time when he'd finished catching up on reports, and had absolutely no reason to go into work.

And then, of course, was the idea that he'd just died himself and needed some time off anyway to sort through the feelings that had come along with that. So he didn't particularly mind the lack of anything when it came down to it. But there were still the nights that he felt restless. Amazingly, he'd looked into his closet and found the Bowl Till You Bleed shirt he'd worn back in Miami. That was what had given him the idea in the first place.

So here he was now, bowling. It wasn't as much fun by himself, but it was better than nothing.

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.

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.

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."

As the last snip faded into the relative silence of her tiny apartment, Alice smiled at herself into the mirror. Granted, it had been rather a rash decision, and she didn't know how she would explain it to her parents when she went home (if she ever went home, but Alice didn't think like that) but for now, she felt as though it was the right thing to do.

Gone were the long, flowing blonde tresses, strands of hair all different lengths lying on the floor around Alice's feet. The effect, though, hadn't been too terrible. She tossed her new, shoulder-length hair and grinned at herself in the mirror. It just fit, with the odd new clothes that she was getting used to, with the City, with freedom. With being the Queen. She liked it. It was just the sort of change she needed.

Pulling on a sky-blue sweater over the white blouse and navy blue skirt she wore, Alice stuck her tongue out at her reflection and skipped down the stairs, out of her apartment and into the street. The City buzzed with a nervous sort of energy. She could feel it. It made her smile. Everything was the same, and yet, not. So with a new bounce in her step, Alice set off to discover what exactly made the City hum in that way.