The Universe's Mixer

Coming back to the warehouse after blowing up her castle wasn’t as upsetting as some might think. Yeah, Harl had liked having all the fancy things and people to order around, but it got a little boring after a while. They expected a queen to do things, and she really preferred to do her own thing her own way. Freedom was more priceless than any gem.

( Of course, that didn’t mean she hadn’t swiped some crown jewels as she went. )

The day was crystal clear. Warm, even, considering what time of year it was. Kids were happily running around the park wearing their shorts and maybe a light sweater. Flowers had bloomed unseasonably. Bees and butterflies busied themselves while birds sang.

To top it all off, in a nice grassy area some picnic tables popped up. They were all covered in food and drink. A big banner unfurled across a nice space that could be seen from the road. It touted "Annual City Picnic" in bold black lettering.

Jesus, couldn't a girl even get to work without being accosted by Valentine's Day crap?

Anita dodged the guys selling red roses on the corner, silently cursing them and every other reminder that she was alone, without her boyfriends. It wasn't like she wasn't occasionally getting 'taken care of' here, but it just wasn't the same as having someone who knew your likes, your dislikes, your every inch.

Suddenly she felt like she was being watched. It was an uncomfortable, prickly feeling that raised her magic along with her hackles. Her eyes darted around at all the people crowded on the street nearby. Suddenly, a whirring sound had her looking up.

Fucking Cupid! Are you fucking serious? The City had lost it this time.

She tried ducking the barrage of arrows it shot into the panicking commuters, but it was no use. She tripped over a slow-moving teenager and felt a pink (why did it have to be fucking pink?!?) arrow wiggle its way into her shoulder.

She decided to stay face-down on the sidewalk for a little while. Maybe if she ignored it, it would all go away.

(After this thread)

The ardeur had stayed a quiet murmur since Spike had gone, never satisfied but never acting up. Anita was always aware of the pull, the need to feed it, but she managed to block it off. Not too healthy, but necessary since the only one to help her out with it was suddenly gone.

After being stuck in her apartment for a month during ZombieGate, which she was stilled pissed about, meeting Angel had started the ardeur waking up. He would be a great choice in both the ardeur's and Anita's eyes but she hadn't seen him since the run-in with the dead chick. Meanwhile, the ardeur was pissed that its tasty morsel had gotten away and was slowly making everyday life hard for Anita.

She was sure as hell glad her partner was a girl.

But after unleashing her necromancy powers again, just like the night she met Angel, the ardeur came out full force. She could feel it pulsing with every step home, calling to the kind of man that both she and ardeur would want to fulfill their respective needs. Anita just hoped there wouldn't be much trouble getting him, whoever he might be, out in the morning.

The wind had gotten cooler as the night wore on, and she still wasn't back at the apartment, Stupid City moving its stupid streets around stupidly. Stupid. Stupid. It was getting hard to walk, shiver and hold the ardeur back from "claiming" the nearest male for its own purposes. Anita wrapped her arms around her chest, gritting her teeth as she kept trying to get home.

Gary trudged through an expanse of the City park covered in snow, a red bundle under his arm. His breath was short and wheezing, as he hadn't stopped moving since he left the Asylum. Now, finally spent, he slumped into a snowbank and did not move for some time.

"Gary..." called a familiar voice, sounding far away.

Confused, Gary struggled to bring up the bundle. He unwrapped the red jacked he'd stolen and revealed the blood-drained visage of his friend, still wearing his cowl and mask.

"Gary..." the voice squalked softly again. The head was no more alive than it had been a moment ago.

"Roy?" Gary wearily asked the head.

"Over here, fatass," the voice beckoned, dreamily.

Looking further ahead, Gary saw the blue, spectral form of his recently dead friend. With sudden energy, he declared, "Holy shit! Roy, you're a Jedi!"

"Gary ... I died a violent death. My spirit can't rest until I've been avenged. You must..."

"Wait, why are you wearing your costume?" inquired Gary, interrupting.

Roy looked at himself curiously at first, then in disbelief. "Aw, what the hell is this?" The colors were indistinct, but he was clearly wearing the uniform of a Monarch Henchman. Roy attempted to grip his clothing, but his hands passed right through his body. "I don't believe this! Don't I get an angel gown, or a ghost sheet or anything?"

"I know, right? It's not like your clothes died," Gary agreed.

"All right, that's it. I'm gonna kick that clown's pasty ass. I am not showing up to the afterlife in this getup." He seemed to have a little trouble making a fist, as his fingers kept passing through his hand. "New plan, Gary: you find me some way to come back to life so I can get my revenge."

"Sweet!" cheered Gary. "Just hold on a little while, okay? I think I gotta collapse from hypothermia for a bit."

Anita shook the snow off her hair and coat as she walked in the front door of the City Police Department. She flashed a warm smile at the guard who sat bored at the front desk, untwisting paper clips. Stomping snow off her boots, she meandered her way past the maze of desks to her office.

She didn't notice the sign on the door had changed from "X-Files Department: Federal Marshall Anita Blake" to "Preturnatural Crimes: Federal Marshall Anita Blake and Detective Deborah Morgan". Oops.

What couldn't escape her notice, though, was  the note left on top of her penguin coffee cup. Someone knew how much she needed her morning cup (or three) of black coffee. She read it and looked around, noticing that the desk that had been there when she arrived for Fox had been replaced in the corner of the room. There was a coat rack now too. She hung her dripping black parka over it, ignoring the puddle of melting snow that formed on the floor. Her scarf and hat quickly followed.

"New partner? Well, hopefully she's not as prejudiced as Dolph was, there are a hell of a lot of monsters here that are on the side of right and quite a number of humans who are really monsters. At least I don't have to worry about some macho asshole trying to help the little lady. I'll help him right to being a soprano, dammit."

Anita hit the button on the coffee machine and waiting for the smell of hot caffeine to fill the office, She wrapped her hands around her mug after filling it and stood at the window, watching the snow fall. And fall. And keep falling until the cars on the street all skidded to the sides and stopped.

"Shit."

Anita was not known for letting things go easily. The words 'pitbull', 'leg' and 'teeth' came to mind, though not necessarily in that order.

So it was no surprise that she followed the blond woman staring at her, trying to make sense of what she had seen and felt her do.

This woman had pulled the soul out of the zombie while it was alive. The zombie was still animated by another force, that Anita had no trouble dealing with - but she did not deal with the soul. In fact, she did not raise zombies until at least three days after the death to allow the soul time to move on somewhere else. She could feel souls and ghosts but those were matters she was glad not to meddle with at all.

Didn't mean she wasn't curious, though.

"Hey! You never answered my question. I don't exactly give up easily."

Anita felt the woman with her necromancy, hoping that might give her an idea of what she was dealing with....or, barring that, at least freak the woman out a little.

Scavenger Hunt. Pair off. Each pair has to find:
- The tooth of a four fingered homeless man
- A unicorn's eyelash
- Blowfish venom
- A pocket watch
- Mittens

So this was what it felt like to be one of Buffy's friends? Angel hadn't really gotten it until now but he (almost) had a new appreciation for Xander. Without the powers or the magical support, Angel felt like just another white hat trying not to get himself killed. The former vampire with a soul never posed as bait before. At least not like this. Anita, champion of another world, was somewhere just out of Angel's sight. Just as well. It allowed Angel to mope a bit, something he hadn't had time for while LA had been submersed in a Hell dimension.

"Here zombie, zombie, zombie..." The eye brows of Angel's brooding forehead went up as he scoped out the streets in the direction that the zombie with powers was last seen. Sam's brother had gotten in the way last time and Angel wondered what sort of person the zombie was when he wasn't craving flesh. At least now Angel could punch the jerk in the face that had cracked a few of his ribs. Not that Sam could help it anymore than Angel could have as Angelus, but at least now he didn't have a random redneck threatening him with a shot gun for trying to do his job.

Said redneck did have a very nice car. As evil as Wolfram & Hart had been, Angel missed the cars. A lot. Of course now that he could actually enjoy having the top down in the middle of the day, it figured Angel no longer owned a 1967 Plymouth GTX convertible. Or a dragon. Dragons made even better rides. How many people could say their ride breathed fire?

"Zombie? Oh Mr. Zombie...? Come out, come out wherever you are...?"

Anita has literally spent a month trapped inside her apartment. This was not her idea of fun. Not at all.

She had woken up that morning, she later found out it was the first day of the zombie plague, planning on spending her day filing through paperwork at the police station. Maybe something exciting would happen for once. She hadn't had a chance to scare anyone for days. She felt out of practice.

She absentmindedly noticed it was darker than usual in her room, but didn't realize yet it was because all her windows had disappeared. As in, gone. Closed up.

She wandered into the kitchen and opened the fridge. Now the missing windows were starting to break through that early morning, no-coffee-yet fog.

Anita walked with her mug of coffee out to the living room with a sinking feeling. No door outside. Shit. What was she going to do?

Obviously the City wanted her kept inside for some reason. She decided to put on the news to try and see what was going on. Of course, since half the City was busy getting zombified and the other half was running away like crazy, the news from the City suffered a bit.

Suffice it to say that a lot of time was spent watching HBO, reality tv shows (which somehow mad' the City;s cut for acceptable viewing) and opening the fridge to see if more food would magically appear every time it was opened. It usually worked. She now knew way too much about designing clothes, being a model, what an amuse bouche is and how far Survivors were really willing to go to backstab each other.

Anita was about ready to try punching a hole through the wall when the news started broadcasting again. She watched the show with growing interest, and then, understanding.

These zombies came about through a disease, not through death and necromancy reanimating the bodies. This was a whole new world. Anita figured there were three options if she had been out and tried to use her powers to lay the zombies back in their graves, as she had been taught.

1. It wouldn't work and she would be attacked.

2. It would work and she would have laid to rest those who were not truly dead, leading to big effing problems.

3. It would backfire and she would wind up with an undead army.

No matter which option would have happened, the City did not want it. So Anita was effectively put in a cage for the entire duration of ZombieFest.

Shrugging on her black suede winter coat, Anita cursed and muttered under her breath while opening the much-missed doorknob.

"Just my fucking luck. Something preturnatura finally happens in this damn City and I get purposely kept out of it. I hate this life."

Halloween.  Tony Stark's favorite time of the year.  The weather was perfect, not too hot or cold, trees around the city were changing colors.  And he had no reason in the world to complain here.  He and Pepper were together, and it'd been a blissful few weeks since their initial union.  For the first time in years, Tony could say he was happy and satisfied.

He'd sent out invitations city wide in hopes of drawing in the citizens to his home for him to have a chance to meet them.  He hadn't ventured out much since he'd been here, mostly because even if he was ever the social butterfly, Tony was too focused on fixing the once damaged relationship between him and Pepper.  Now that was all taken care of and here he stood in his bedroom putting on his costume.  He'd laid his choice of cstume out on Pepper's bed for her to put on, chosen since she'd lost to him in a little game they'd played to determine what they'd spend this night as.  It was custom tailored to fit her form perfectly, having taken the dress she'd worn for their first night together and used its measurements.

He stared at himself in the mirror, thinking that his goatee would make wearing the mask a little awkward at best, but he didn't care.  He thought since he should play the mysterious host of the night, that he should don the look of someone just as mysterious.  Taking a step back from the mirror, he attempted to twirl the cape, almost tangling himself up in it the first few times until he got the hang of it and smiled.  Affixing his mask to his face, he smirked as he gave his appearance one last once over.

The Phantom of the Opera was ready for his grand entrance.

[ooc: If you're character is showing up, feel free to start your own thread under this.  Tony will attempt to greet everyone but might not for getting sidetracked by others.  If you plan to crash the party, I will start a separate thread after a day or two to give people a chance to do regular party stuff.  Have fun, and don't be shy with your characters!  This is a very social log!]

Firekeeper and Blind Seer had finally begun to settle down in this strange new place. They were still seized by the occasional moment of homesickness and longing for friends, but they accepted it with wolf-like pragmatism. They contented themselves with filling their bellies with any number of prey (as well as fruits and vegetables, in Firekeeper's case) and exploring the length and breadth of the park that they were now calling home. They rarely set so much as a few steps outside of the boundaries, though; there was still too much overwhelming strangeness that lay beyond.

But slowly, curiosity began to overtake the fear, particularly for Firekeeper. Slowly, their explorations began to lead ever so slightly further outside into the paved and unnatural world beyond the park. There were still any number of awful smells and sounds (to say nothing of the sheer alienness of it all), but the two were becoming accustomed to no longer sprinting for the nearest cover at the first sign of anything new. "Tomorrow," Firekeeper told Blind Seer one evening as they crouched behind a tree and watched the strange moving things on the road. "Tomorrow I think I will try to stay among the chaos of these two-legs for longer than a handful of steps."

Blind Seer chewed thoughtfully on his foot. "If that is your wish, then I shall accompany you as ever, dear heart. Far be it from me to leave a strange hairless wolf like yourself alone and defenseless in this strange city."

She thumped him soundly on a flank and he mouthed her arm gently in return, affectionate as siblings, and they rose as one and ran past some surprised passerby out for an evening walk. When they returned to the bridge that had been acting as their den, they were surprised to find a small bundle waiting for them, though they neither saw nor smelled anybody around. It was a set of clothes, of the type that they had seen the residents of the city wearing: trousers of a sturdy blue cloth that cut off slightly below the knee and a cloth shirt of a lighter material. Firekeeper frowned thoughtfully; they were nowhere near sturdy enough to wear for any long stretch in this forest, as active as she was, but it might be enough to blend in better out there...

She glanced over at Blind Seer, whose hackles were still up despite (or more precisely because of) the lack of any trace of an intruder. Perhaps blending is a lost cause, but if it helps...

The next afternoon, rested and fed, the two cautiously made their way out of the park. They couldn't help wincing at some of the new sounds and sights, but they didn't run. Yet.

[open to Zoe, Jennifer Government and anyone else who feels like stopping by the cop shop]

It had taken Anita a while to get over the whole being dead thing.

She had come close before, but had never quite crossed over. She had almost been dragged down with Jean-Claude and Richard at least once before, and she almost died when she killed Alejandro all those years ago, but this was different.

She would feel empathy for her zombies, except she knew for a fact they didn't remember their deaths. Hell, they didn't even know they were dead until it was proven to them.

Tapping her pencil on her desk, Anita played with the curls that refused to stay put in her ponytail holder. No new cases so far since the City murders.

She debated going out and raising some dead, just to have something to do. Or maybe another cup of coffee. Then, if nothing happened, it was zombie time. The ardeur was demanding something, anything, and Anita did not relish having to deal with yanking someone off the street to satisfy it.

A heartbeat.

That’s what the bass sounded like from outside as it thrummed against the walls of the high-end club. An irregular, thumping sound that you could actually feel in your chest. Something that was alive and hypnotic. It dared and enticed the occaisional passerby to inch just a little closer. To approach those dark windows. To give into curiosity.

To forget about morals and scruples for just a moment...and live.

Stepping into the Black Diamond Club, it took on an even stronger form of a living entity. The lights swirling and flickering their way across near-naked bodies that writhed and ground against one another on the dance floor.

The heartbeat was louder here, and now it was accompanied with the sound of breath. You could hear it. Even over the music, the whispered gasps and sighs that escaped the lips of those delicious nymphs as they danced their rings with one another…with their boys…with anyone that would place their hands on their smooth, glistening flesh and guide them away into the music.

In the midst of this throng of people, on one of the raised stages, a beautiful blond was currently twisting her body sensually around the silver pole that she held onto, writhing her way down its surface. The flickering lights caught at her smooth, tanned skin, illuminating those seductive curves that moved in perfect time with the music around her. Curved hips rolled against the cold metal, lost in the sound of that heartbeat that matched her own pulse.

Nancy Callahan was a new acquisition of the Black Diamond. Sexy and mysterious, no one knew exactly where she had come from. She'd simply turned up at the club one morning, looking for a job. The owner asked to see what she had to offer...and she found herself hired right on the spot.

There was no more need for questions beyond that.

Nancy tossed those long, blond locks of hers and her lips parted in quiet breaths. Eyes scanned the swarming crowd of dancers as her hands eased their way across her bare midrift in a tantalizing manner.

What sort of secrets rested in those large, dark eyes of hers?

Who would be the one to find out?

(You don't have to interact with Nancy. This thread is open to anyone that is looking for a good time and just wants to party at the Black Diamond. ;) )

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.

Ducks.

There were ducks swimming near the shore, looking for food both in the water and out. Apparently they were accustomed to receiving treats from people on the shore in much the same way as the ducks in London did. Except that Crowley wasn't in London. He was in some strange City that was nothing at all like London. Crowley stared at the fowl, hands in his pockets, as they moved through the water. So many things had changed, so many things had been undone and then redone and then completely changed again. Didn't he learn that the last time he slept away more than an evening that everything went awry in his absence from consciousness?

Apparently not, since he was now standing in the thick of what appeared to be some City that was neither here nor there. He couldn't place anything to give him even the slightest bit of an idea as to where he was. ( No accents, no signage, nothing. )

Some called it fishing. Some called it noodling, which Sweeney supposed was a kind of fishing. Though what anyone would call what he was doing was his guess. Pasty white, bare skin reflected an obscene amount of light off his body as he waded through the water, eyes open and hoping to find some kind of fish. Wading... through the water... with his clothes in a pile on the dry land.

Mad Sweeney was naked.

Bare as a jaybird and maneuvering himself through the water with a clumsy oafish sort of movement. For the first time in the past few days, he was absolutely sober at that. Sober and hungry. And in Ireland when you were sober and hungry, you found yourself something to eat. Then you went and found something to drink. Simple as that, and even though it had been many long years since Ireland, Sweeney kept to that adage. Something that hopefully didn't involve chestnuts in the tree tops... or so the story went.

"Comeon.." he grumbled, grappling for another one and failing. Which had absolutely nothing to do with lacking a pole and line. No, in hindsight he should have brought his shirt out with him to use as a sort of net. Hell, he remembered a time before fishing poles and lures were even used. He had been able to catch fish then, he would certainly be able to do it now.

It just meant he was out of practice was all.

"Comeon you little buggers. Can't you see I'm Irish and therefore allergic to sunlight? Don't want my ass to look like Rudolph's red fucken nose by the time I catch one of you." There was a splash as Sweeney got on by the tail, only to have it wriggle free.

This worked so much better in streams.

It wasn't a spectacular party that he was going to be attending. Just some thing. Nothing special at all. He hadn't even bothered to wear a tux. Just a suit. Not even one of his best ones. Just a nice one. He really didn't care. There were other things on his mind. Like the witch, and if she'd managed to do anything to help Clark. Getting the city back in order, getting back into doing things that he should have been doing all along. Being alive again instead of in the half dead state of loss like some high school kid.

He was late, of course, so he had to park his car around the corner and walk past a very dark alley to get to the hotel where the party was going to be held. Something that didn't even concern him these days. Hadn't for a long time. Not since the dark alley he'd been in when he was a child. He knew there was danger in there, and knew that they were just ripe with criminals. And cliches.

So it was really no surprise to Bruce when he hears screaming coming from the back of the alley. He didn't even roll his eyes in response, because he'd kind of expected something like that to happen.

Bruce pivoted on his heel and went into the darkness, ready to encounter thugs robbing a poor woman. He was almost to the end when he encountered the sight. What was really going on. And that was nothing like what he'd been expecting.

There were two of them, alright. And a lady, too. But they certainly weren't robbing her. They weren't doing anything expected to her. Not even trying to rape her. Which would have been disturbing in it's own right, but Bruce would have been able to deal with that.

What he could not deal with was the fact that the two men appeared to be eating the poor woman. Alive. One gnawing on her shoulder, the other chewing on her lower leg. There was blood everywhere. The suspects themselves didn't look particularly normal either. Not that chewing on a human being was normal. But their skin was mottled. Cold looking. What corpses should look like, he thought.

For the first time in what seemed like forever, Bruce had no idea what to do.

The problem with Aeon's life was simple: she went through ammo like other people went through sliced bread, or tissues.

After getting Dean out of his most recent mess, which was (happily) a couple days ago now, the Monican realized she had not even tried to get any new weapons or any new ammunition since she'd been in The City.

Well.

That was gonna have to change, wasn't it?

She was out this afternoon with the intention of finding some new stuff, beyond all the cool gadgets she already had. Standard issue .38 caliber bullets were on the menu, definitely. She ducked into a sporting goods store without a sound, bright green eyes darting around the room and settling, with a little bit of surprise, on a small, dark-haired woman waiting at the counter. It looked, from back here, like the woman's arms were covered in scars.

Huh.

Aeon stepped further into the store, silent, and when she came to a stop, her hands remained at her sides. There was a gun on her back, one on her thigh, and that ring on her finger that served her so well when everything else did not. If you knew what you were looking for, you saw the guns; if you didn't, your eyes slid right past them. No tight black outfit today, just jeans and a fitted black shirt. Long sleeved.

The woman standing there was armed, too. Aeon smirked. This store might not be big enough for the both of them.

[Open for Selina/Catwoman and ?]

Once again, Anita took herself to the streets of the City.

Figures. She had started to get a toehold on the way this place worked, and the world shook itself into pieces again. Literally, in this case. When she looked out her window, she didn't see any of the streets that had started to become familiar to her. She saw chaos slowly forming itself into...something. Damn tired of this, she muttered inside her head. First, she got thrown into this freaking hole without so much as a cool Star Trek beam-me-up or anything. Then, the streets start moving. Then, once she gets a job and gets laid, the whole freaking place heaves like a pregnant teen with really bad morning sickness. Lost the guy, can't find the police station yet. At least she still had her apartment. There were even new, fancy electronics. A nice home theater system and a new tiny laptop. Hell, it could fit in her purse - if she ever remembered to take it with her. Usually she just stuck her keys in one pocket, her phone in another, and stalked off. Which was what she had done tonight.

She wasn't stupid, though. She kept a watchful eye on the streets she passed, and ear open for unfamiliar sounds. No telling what lowlifes were going to try and take advantage of the City's slowly-shrinking chaos...and the tiny woman making her way through it. Luckily, she had skills at her disposal that could make their lives rather uncomfortable..or non-existent. That always put an extra spring in one's step, the power over death. Not that she was boasting or anything, just a fact. Living people, there was less she could do. But she was far from helpless.

A sudden noise caught her attention, but she was careful to control her first instinct...which was to whip her head around and her gun out. Didn't want to scare whoever it was off before she had a chance to ask some questions. Maybe they weren't even out for her, just...passing through. You never knew.

Bending over to "fix" the laces on her boot, Anita scanned the alley as best she could in the dark. Just because she didn't see anyone didn't mean they weren't around, somewhere...