The Universe's Mixer

"Take that back to the bank!" Barbara shouted, knocking one of the darkly dressed criminals to the pavement. She grit her teeth, narrowed her eyes and lifted her foot, putting a yellow boot into the stomach of another one of the group. She was clearly outnumbered, her singular to their ten, but she had fought greater numbers than that. And it wasn't as though the criminal element didn't know she was here. Eddie was on the up and up that she arrived and Babs suspected that he had relayed the information to every con man and criminal in town. They would know to look for the bat symbol of nothing else.

Sending the guy to the ground, Barbara spun in a circle, planting her foot back on to the ground. She raised her fists and looked at the rest of those that remained in the ever closing circle with a grin. "Who's next? You guys aren't very smart, are you? Taking on a poor, defenseless little girl?" It was a tease. Obviously she was more than capable of defending herself.

One of the masked criminals scoffed at Barbara's comment, "You ain't defenseless, but I am going to teach you a lesson in pain that you're never gonna forget!"

Another brandished a billy club, swinging it at the red-head. Instantly Barbara threw an arm up to block, deflecting the swing with her forearm. A cracking noise careened off of the brick walls of the alley and Barbara winced, before swinging her free hand up. She made a fist and punched the man that had struck at her in the face, sending him backward.

Her cape flapped as she swirled around, narrowing her eyes. Her arm was definitely going to bruise.

Gloves fingers worked a collapsible Batarang out of her Utility Belt and she unfolded it, swinging it hard at a couple of the guys. It smacked into one of them but missed the other and went skittering off down the alley. "Dang," Barbara breathed. "Awe, did the little girl lose her toys?" One of the criminals jeered. "Yeah, I did. Didn't you come over to play?" Barbara retorted, kicking the man in the shin.

Clarice was still familiarizing herself with the City's police offices. She was not a beat cop, but she had experience with local police offices thanks to her work on the Buffalo Bill case. Having a desk in an office like this still felt alien even as it felt like a purpose in this new, strange place.

In between examining the files that occasionally showed up on her desk, Clarice examined the station. She learned the names of the City-born officers that manned the front desk and evidence room. She lingered in the exam rooms, tracing her fingers over the metal tables and scarred wooden chairs. And she made her way to the forensics lab.

Forensics was not Clarice's domain; she had experience in morgues, knew how to examine a body and collect evidence, but testing the evidence was not what she did. Even so, she needed to know and trust whoever did the testing. She knocked on the door to the lab. "Is anyone there? May I come in?"

Barbara grit her teeth. She tugged hard at the collar and shoulder of the downed man's suit as she dragged his unconscious body toward the street. The only pause she took was long enough to assess the landscape. An array of trash bins lined the sidewalks, and so Barbara nodded. She grunted, pulling the man along the sidewalk toward the curb. Finally, when Barbara reached the curb itself she left the man next to the can, sat upright so he looked as if he belonged with the rest of the debris.

She brushed her hands together, done with the situation.

The letter in her pocket seemed to burn a hole in the pocket of her jacket and she removed it. On the front of the ecrue colored envelope was a sparkly green question mark. An insignia Barbara knew well. Riddler.

She opened the envelope and pulled the letter out.

In green pen, the script read:

Dear Bat Brat,

You know you have always been my favorite of the family.
Soon you should come have tea with me,
It would be delightful to see you again.
I would hate to have to come find you.
I hope that you like oolong.

Truly yours,

?


Barbara frowned. She wanted nothing to do with Edward. She looked helpless. The unconscious goon was one of Eddie's and she had made sure he was where he belonged. Out with the garbage.

"Damn it.." Barbara breathed to herself. Her shoulders slumped. This was not what she needed. She had a broken motorcycle and no place to store it to fix it, that was what she needed, a space to repair her Batcycle. She needed to keep looking without distraction.

Finding where the key she had been given went had been a bit of a challenge even for her. The taxi that she had gotten had been a huge help with the pain in her leg and her back, but it seemed like the streets continued to change as she rode along in the back seat. It was a frustrating thing to someone like her who could recall exact information after only a glance at it. How was she supposed to know where she was going or where anything was if it moved like that on everyone?

Finally the Agreeable Apartments was in her line of sight. She had a feeling she wouldn't be able to find her way back to Thor and to her motorcycle, but she would figure it out. She had to. But the exhaustion weighed down on her and she set that problem on the back burner for now. It was the least problematic on her ever growing list.

Barbara even found herself too tired and strained to freak out about everything. She felt like she was taking it well, all of this strangeness.

After opening the door to the apartment, Barbara looked around at it. It was simple enough, nearly decorated though it didn't look much like a home to her. Though she had been between places to stay after leaving college. As much as she liked her family, Barbara hadn't been ready to move back home. She liked her freedom and she was a little more messy than her father liked.

A quick close of the door behind herself and Barbara began to explore the place. On the counter in the kitchen she found credentials and identification enough to get her in to her 'supposed' employment at the City Police Department. Well, at least that was covered. In the closets she found her clothes, shoes and accessories, which was a relief. There was medication in her medicine cabinet in the bathroom for her back. Also a relief.

With all the bases covered, the red-head sank into the bed provided to her fully clothed and passed out. She would need to find a place to store her bike so she could repair it but that could wait. She was way too tired just then to care.

Barbara swung her fist, connecting the yellow gloved knuckles with the side of the face of a rogue clown that had been terrorizing one of the dark alleyways of Gotham. When the blow collided, the man shouted in surprise and Barbara grinned. Pulling her fist back, she tilted her body backward at an angle enough to lift her leg up and kick outward. The movement was sent with enough force to send the man flying backward into a pile of trash in the alley. Satisfied, Barbara put her hands on her hips and her feet flat on the pavement, peering down through the eyeholes of her mask at the man laying on the concrete.

"You look better with pavement as a backdrop. Maybe next time you decide to make a deal for Joker you'll think twice about doing it on my streets." Her back was twinging some but she ignored it. With the flap of her cape, Barbara turned and fled from the scene. In the distance she could hear sirens. Someone must have called Gotham's finest because of the shouting and fighting noises. Fighting was not the most silent of activities unless the fighters truly wanted it to be, but in their case why would they? It didn't matter who was listening, it mattered who won.

She exited the alley and mounted the motorcycle that was parked at the corner of the street, kicking the thing into life with the pushing down of a yellow clad foot against the ignition. The key was turned and she was off down the street with her cape flapping behind her. Where there were one of those guys, more lurked around and word seemed to get around quickly through the villain grapevine that trouble was about. Barbara was curious to know if Joker had some kind of personal vendetta against her or if it was just one more way to get close to Bruce. Probably both.

And as afraid to face the Clown Prince of Crime as she was, Barbara remained undeterred. She had to keep fighting. Her interest in it, though, had waned some since her recovery. There were so many in the Bat Family besides her that roamed the streets. Honestly, she figured that taking up her old post was to prove to herself that she could do it and to prove to Joker that he had not gotten her down. But was all of this really necessary? She obviously still felt the pain from the shooting, now and again the aches crept into her body and she felt lifeless when it did. Other times she couldn't move at all from the fear. Her dreams were full of laughter and gunfire.

Distracted, Barbara didn't see that the scenery had changed. Where it had once been night time, the sun shone brightly. It took her a moment to realize that something was different, and since her mind had been in two places the young woman didn't know until it was too late that she was careening right into a pack of velociraptor. Wait....Velociraptor? She had to be dreaming.

Blinking, Barbara wove her way through the pack of now interested carnivores. They turned and began to chase her bike as she threaded her way through the bright streets. One of them snapped at her leg, tearing through the matte black strip of leather and flesh. She cried out and winced, before the bike turned. It tipped and Barbara pushed herself from it, rolling down the street as the bike lay against the pavement.

A raptor mounted the fallen bike like a perch, emitted a roar of triumph and approached the fallen girl. Barbara struggled to sit up, her leg being the least of her worries. Her brown eyes filled with fear but there was a sense of wonder there too. Those were dinosaurs. Honest to God dinosaurs. Did she fall into some tainted version of Jurassic Park? This didn't seem like an attraction or any CGI or 3D training program that she was familiar with. The bleeding wound brought that evidence to light.

"Great. I'm about to be a snack for a dinosaur," she mumbled, then winced. Pressing her palm against her leg for a moment, Barbara pulled herself to her feet. Removing her hand, she turned and ran down the street knowing it was futile. But she wouldn't just stand there and die.

The late afternoon was balmy, even pleasant, but to Dick, who had been running, leaping, fighting and lifting the entire day, it was unbearably hot and sticky. The sun glared down on him as it started to sink, and he was actually missing his suit, which though dark, actually breathed well and used small, weightless chemical packs to regulate temperature. Dick hauled his single remaining crutch up off the ground and hooked it on the end of the fire escape, looking down as a clowder of cats streaked through the alley below, hissing to themselves as they bounded and twisted. "Always wanted to use 'clowder,' in a sentence," Dick commented to himself, tearing a piece of his shirt into a long stripe so he could bind the wound on his arm. This would probably only stop the bleeding at best; the bite was deep and ugly, courtesy of what he could have sworn was a raccoon.

His leg wasn't holding up all that well, and he was lucky that the dog he'd first come across that morning had decided to bite the crutch on his other side instead of his leg. He'd been helping people get to higher, safer ground all day, moving over the roofs as only he or one of his trained kind could; he'd managed to avoid getting bit right up until about ten minutes ago, and he was still cursing the mistake. He took in his breath in a long hiss as he tried to get the bleeding to stop, and looked around into the windows of the building behind him. He might have to break into one and find something to clean the wound with, or this was going to get ugly fast. "Wonder what a bunch of raccoons are called."

Dinah crouched on the edge of a four story building, surveying the alley below. She was waiting for her target for questioning for the night to appear. She stifled a yawn and did her best to keep herself awake. It was difficult to make sleep a priority and it was especially difficult to get any sleep at the Clocktower, which was so empty without Jake.

At least when she'd been able to go to Harry's, she'd gotten a little bit more sleep. But that was out of the question until Murphy found her place.

So, Dinah was more than a little on edge. She was probably more trigger happy than she should be at the moment.

Another day, another trip into the library. Hannibal found that he couldn't stay away for very long. Even if it hadn't been filled with books about various people he met around the city, it was still filled with more books than he'd ever imagined in his life. That alone would have had him coming back again and again. He was determined to read every book in this place, and that would be a feat, he knew. It seemed like every day there were more of them. More shelves to hold them. More rooms to contain the shelves.

As it was, he really enjoyed looking to see if any of the new people he met came from books like he did. It was a little bit of cheating, he supposed, knowing that this was here. Being able to discover anything he wanted about certain members of the new society. Not sharing that fact with anybody else.

At first, it was all like usual. Smile at the clerk at the front counter. Nod slightly to those who he passed and saw on a regular basis because they, too, were lovers of the library. Making his way to the computer terminals to look up a name or a place.

But this time he was struck by a brief flash of red hair. It shouldn't have been unusual, really. It wasn't as if there were no redheads where he came from. But today, it felt as if his heart skipped. And that, well. That was new. That didn't happen all the time. Hannibal's heartbeat generally stayed the same all the time. Why should red hair spark it?

To find out, he sought out the source, the woman who it was attached to. Popping around the corner of a stack and seeing her face. One look. That's all there was before his heart felt like it fell into his stomach.

Oh, he knew it was absurd. He loved River. River was where home was. River held his heart. But this. He didn't know how to explain it. For once in his life he was without descriptive ability. He felt like he needed to be near her. Needed to touch her. Run his fingers through that hair.

Absurd.

Hannibal cleared his throat to get her attention.

Elle wasn't a fan of snow, or water in general when it wasn't in shower or pool form. Rain made it hard for her to do things she liked to do, and snow was just as bothersome. Right now she wanted the comforts, small they may be, of her own personal apartment. She had meant to try and call the company, but what her cellphone did not allow was those calls. Apparently she was nowhere and somewhere at the same time. The snow kept falling and moving through it was getting to be more than just a feat. She might have to try and swim through it. She tried to melt it with a zap, but since she was a twinge wet from it it just back fired. With a little cry and kept going.

She hated this place now. Hated it. Elle stormed forward, she needed to get inside, and dry and figure this out quick. Survival skills she did have, trained as she was. She missed her father. She only knew one person here and he was a runner. She needed Nathan, or maybe Peter. They could fly. She could use someone who could fly.

Ha, leather uniforms. Made her think of superman rather than the Petrelli's.

Elle finally came face to face, literally, with a glass door. How the hell had she ended up here. She pulled with some difficulty and finally wedged it open enough to make it inside. It looked like a gas station, yes, that was what it was. She pulled the door shut from the cold and let her teeth chatter. She hopped up onto the counter, not wanting to explore yet. No one seemed to be around. Fine. Maybe she'd just light this place on fire. She looked at her hands again, she was still wet. Had to dry first.

The city sucked.

Barbara looked at the rack of pamphlets the cat had led her to. They were bright and kitschy, like something out of the 1950's archives at the Gotham Public Library. New to the City? one of them proclaimed, We've got all the information you need!

She glanced at the back cover of the pamphlet before flipping it open. From the amount of text spread through the pages, it looked like she was going to need a lot of information. It took her ten minutes to read the booklet from cover to cover, and another five to complete processing it. Okay. I've walked into another dimension of some sort. This could be amazing. She dropped the pamphlet into her purse. The sheer possibilities!

It didn't take Barbara long to check in at the front desk of the shelter; she would only be staying for one night after all. They didn't ask her for identification, possibly because many people who ended up in this City might not have one on them. The shelter looked lived-in without being unsanitary, but Barbara was mostly just thankful for the warmth. A quick glance at the clock in the lobby told her she had arrived in the middle of the night, so she padded across the room with the beds to an empty bottom bunk.

But Barbara was far too excited to sleep. She tip-toed out of the room into the common area, in the hopes that someone else would be awake and up for conversation out there.

Barbara loosened the scarf around her neck slightly as she left the library. It wasn't as cold outside as it had been when she had come into work, and between the sweater, the jacket and the pea-coat, she was more than warm enough. The walk to her father's place (yes, Barbara still lived at home at almost-twenty-one) was less than ten minutes long, so she didn't bother taking a layer off. Barbara wondered idly whether her father, deeming it unlikely as it was only six o'clock, and he had three underworld cases to supervise. She felt a little guilty being happy about the Commissioner being at work late, but it was the perfect time for her to go help Bruce Wayne as Batgirl.

She was too preoccupied with imagining possibilities for what she'd be doing tonight to notice the slight shift in the air around her. A gust caught her from behind, blowing her long ponytail forward and around her face. A light in one of the windows of the apartments next to her caught her eye. She had walked this street twice a day everyday for the last three years, but she had never noticed that odd orange light, or the arches around those windows, or the molding between floors.

Wait a minute. Where was she? This wasn't the way she usually went home. Barbara wasn't the type to get lost no matter how distracted she got, so being in unfamiliar territory, no matter how subtle, was starting to weird her out. She decided to walk to the street corner and read the sign, just so she could get a better grip on where she was. Impatient to find her bearings, Barbara half-jogged to the street corner, only to find that there were no street signs. To make things worse, none of the other buildings around her looked familiar either.