The Universe's Mixer

There were more crimes and not enough law enforcement types to go around. The murders weren't escalating, and they weren't being solved. The detective didn't like what he was dealing, but the cops dealt with the unpleasant on a regular basis. It was his job.

Charlie Crews tried to let go of the unpleasant; he needed to make a difference, to make the world better. He dealt with the unpleasant, so that others didn't have to. Not that zen was all about the pleasant; it was dealing with life in a different way, seeing beyond life to the truth. It was releasing the world to find something true, real, wisdom.

He settled down at the table with the bowl of fruit he'd just picked from the orchard. He smiled with a little pride, claiming one of the apples from the bowl. He couldn't say he owned the orchard, or even the fruit. He could and would say he appreciated the fruit. For the moment, he'd let himself appreciate how the fruit looked, how it felt, how it existed. It wasn't exactly meditation, just something very like.

Fred was excited. Yes, she wanted to find people, and yes, she was concerned. She'd caught something about the murders when she was getting a few groceries. Of course, she'd had to look over someone's shoulder and try to listen, but she definitely knew that something bad was going on. She hadn't seen Harry in a while, but she supposed he was busy with a job. Now, if she could find a job...

So, Fred was excited. She'd gotten a flyer for a talk on time travel, or it seemed to be about time travel. "How many people could you meet in an evening if you had the right equipment? Would you go backwards or forwards to catch up with someone from your past or to meet someone new? Would you take one away with you to another time, to another place, or would you stay right there in that moment and wish the world away?" Sure, it seemed time travel was being linked to romance, but who was she to pass up a talk on time travel? Maybe the Doctor would be there; he was something of an expert on such things.

She'd gotten a little dressed up; never knew who she could see at a possibly prestigious and informative meeting. So, she looked a little like the stereotypical librarian, but she wanted to be serious yet feminine?

Imagine her surprise as she arrived at the location to find a "fashionable" restaurant that had a bit of an island vacation spot theme. When she went in with the flyer, she was handed an application. For all her intelligence, it hadn't clicked yet that she was duped. No, that didn't set in until she had been seated at a table for two and met her first speed date. He was a cowboy who liked getting to know his animals. She didn't talk much because she wasn't sure what she would say.

For a moment, she thought she'd go, but she felt bad about leaving, especially when the second guy sat down and started telling her about his favorite cat. He even had pictures. She guessed she could stay. It wasn't like she was in a place to judge any of these people, and she guessed that the City was trying to be nice. Maybe. Plus, the picture with the kitty playing with an orange knit pompom hat was cute.

"He's a very cunning cat." Fred smiled, but their conversation was cut off by the buzzer, and Fred looked to her next "date."

Frustratingly, Logan didn't find the City Institute across the street from the City Botanical Gardens. Just as Maryanne had said, the Institute seemed to have moved.

Or at least, that's what Logan would think if he believed that it was possible for streets and buildings to move. Instead, he tried asking for directions three times and instead got maddening answers of "I saw it a few blocks that way yesterday." and "I'm pretty sure it's on the far North side of the City today."

Finally, he took a turn down a side street, about to give up entirely on finding the mythical school, and found himself right in front of a large sign declaring the property as the City Institute.

"About damn time," Logan muttered to himself and entered the campus. Once on campus, finding the financial aid building was a snap, but by then Logan was so frustrated at the entire City 'experience' that he was in a surly mood.

Maryanne turned out to be a petite brunette with a cheerleader smile. She greeted Logan enthusiastically, despite the glare he gave her.

"I'll just let the counselor know that you're here. He should be with you in a minute."

"Just ducky," Logan said with a sarcastic grin. Apparently, the sarcasm went right over Maryanne's head, because her smile merely widened. She gave him a little wave and then dialed her phone.

"Logan Echolls is here to see you sir," she practically sang.

Logan rolled his eyes and slumped over in his seat, still wondering what exactly had possessed him to make this appointment. His stomach rumbled again, as if to remind him.

Fred had been having interesting dreams lately. She couldn't really put her finger on what made them interesting, but she knew when she woke up the next morning they'd been something...different and possibly spectacular. They were certainly disturbing. She was probably just dealing with her recent visit in the loonybin and her apparent recent loss in friends and family. It was just her subconscious' way of dealing with trauma, but she didn't know how well it was working it out if she couldn't remember what the dream was when she woke up. It was a little frustrating.

Fred Burkle wasn't the pushy type. Not often, but she wanted the City to listen. So, as she stepped out of Angel Investigations, locking up behind her, ( she decided to give it a little talking to. )

It had not been a good few weeks for the Doctor. It was exceptionally rare that something managed to get one over on him; it happened, but infrequently enough that the occurrence was a surprise every time. He was worried - about Pond and Rory trapped on a strange planet (just imagine the trouble Pond could get herself into), about Lyra and Fred and Sherlock Holmes, trapped as he was in this strange place, about the designs behind the abductions. Things like this didn’t just happen. They took effort and knowledge and planning.

So? He’d paced about like a madman. The Doctor didn’t sit still easily, and exploring the City made him feel productive. Perhaps he could find where his crafty Urban Overlord had hidden the TARDIS. Perhaps he’d meet someone with some answers - or at least someone interesting.

He’d give the City one bit of credit: it had provided him with a suitable wardrobe. Tweed, ties, proper comfortable shoes for running about, and even a whole shelf of headgear. Now he could choose among fedoras, bowlers, a Stetson, three different takes on the fez, and what could only have been a Phillip Treacy original. It was in zebra print and had little ears on the sides.

The Doctor chose a broad-brimmed tartan fedora. ( It felt jaunty. It felt dashing and heroic, like Indiana Jones mixed with the Scottish Highlands. )

Upon her release from Arkham, Raven had gone back to the Magic Box to find it locked and dark. Well. That was disappointing; perhaps they'd all been herded off to the asylum, too? Or perhaps the morning manager had simply had a lie-in. You could never tell, really. Raven considered the possibilities as she dug through her satchel for the keys. She found the right one, turned it in the lock, and then shoved the door with her hip so that she could use her hands to flip the window sign from 'Closed' to 'Open.' Lights went on. The store was back in business.

Inside, product was lying about everywhere. Raven scowled, dropped her bag unceremoniously behind the counter, and went straight into cleaning up. Had they been dragged to Arkham kicking and screaming? Had leprechauns invaded again? Or was the evening clerk simply lazy? It didn't matter. Good natured or not, Raven grumbled in irritation under her breath as she stacked the books that had been left out on tables.

"Right, because Miss Archer will pick it up. Leave it for Raven, she gets an extra three-fifty an hour."

Soon, the stack of books was almost taller than the girl who heaved them across the room and to the bookcases, where she set about refiling them. No. Wait. If she was going to have to do tedious clean-up, she wanted music. Raven changed her mind and set the books on the ground, where the stack teetered ominously and threatened to overturn itself.

Raven disappeared behind the counter, where she squatted and started fumbling with the sound system. Hmm. Imogen Heap? Regina Spektor? Not Poe. It didn't matter if the woman sang well - the name put the little demon girl right off.

Crowley was confused. Not because he couldn’t find his flat, because after driving down the City’s streets at speeds the streets weren’t designed for, he found it, parked the Bentley and went inside. Then he did what he had intended to do from the second he left the Asylum. He took a sleep. A few days long sleep. When he did wake it was with a start and a hand to the forehead. Something wasn’t sitting right at all.

( He’d gone through his normal routine of scaring his house plants )

It was a tiny little world. The forest surrounding The City reminded Trickster of the edge of a playable video game setting-- meant to look like there was more world to explore while being little more than a painted wall meant to keep the action in. Interesting choice, but more than a little obvious. The angel was eager to speak to the deity responsible-- if only for a well deserved ribbing.

He flew invisibly over streets, peeked into homes, flipped through television channels at the electronics store while the employees scrambled to figure out what was wrong with the showroom displays. The entire act was like flipping through yellow pages trying to find something to do. But The Trickster wasn't finding much action.

Oh sure, there were aliens and super heroes and doctors and dead people. It was an eclectic mix he could appreciate for sure. He already had plans for some of them but wasn't feeling up to the task of teaching any lessons just yet until he got a better feel for the place. So he continued to breeze past motels and skyscrapers. It felt so good to stretch out again.

Until he started to feel tired.

And that was new. Troubling, even.

Before Trickster could wonder about that he came across a bow-legged, boot wearing face. Trickster landed and to the outsider he "appeared" suddenly, silently behind the human hunter.

"Man, they just let any riff raff in, don't they? Here I was hoping for a vacation."

It was so fast that Jesse didn't even know what the fuck was happening to him as it happened. It was as if a giant angry wind had come along and whisked him away, though it was decidedly a lot more physical than wind, and quite a bit more painful than just a simple whisking.

He was sitting, talking with Didi, trying to figure out what it was that would make the scarf come off. The scarf that she had made so that he could be human for a while when he felt like it. The scarf he had created some kind of password for that kept it on him until he uttered the words to make it come off. The scarf that had allowed him to be so thoroughly drugged that he would have never figured out there was a password to the scarf by himself.

But Didi had helped him to think of it. The words turned out to be so simple that when he'd finally come up with them, he'd been a little bit ashamed of himself. The words off of his father's lighter, Fuck Communism. It should have really been the first thing he'd thought of. What other words would make sense? What else could there be that he didn't use in daily conversations but was close enough to his heart to be something he'd remember easily?

The lighter had dropped to the ground, and he'd bent to pick it up.

Then, chaos.

Four very large, very intimidating orderlies appeared around him. Jesse might have known how to fight a man like Jody pretty goddamned easily, but there were four of these guys. It didn't help matters that he was fairly sure they were all actually overgrown gorillas wearing white uniforms. The drugs were seeping quickly out of his system, but not quite fast enough for his liking. The thought of fighting back with extra abilities didn't occur to him right away. No, he'd just tried to kick and squirm free, which hadn't really amounted to much of anything at all. In fact, Jesse was pretty sure that with four pairs of hands on him, he hadn't moved an inch.

A pair on each arm, and each leg. They were literally carrying him bodily.

At first he was sure that he was going to be taken back to his room. They were going to try to get the scarf back on him and reissue those medications, only twice as strong. They weren't going to let him go back down to general population anymore, and they were going to find a way to make sure Didi couldn't visit him where they put him. He was able to glance back quickly, only once. She didn't seem very put out by what was happening to him. She sat there.

"Hey, darlin, you might wanna..." but he didn't get to finish his thought. They didn't turn toward the corridor with the elevators, they just kept going straight. Confused, Jesse relaxed in a way, more unsure than ever. His unwillingness to invade the thoughts of those around him proving to be a roadblock in his ability to figure out what was happening.

Past the nurses desk, then first gate into the intake area. Past all the doors where doctors kept their offices and out-patient services were rendered. Past the second gate and the front door guard's area. Right through the entry lobby to the front doors. And they didn't just stop. They burst through those doors and tossed Jesse in one clean motion as far as they could. Which happened to be quite a ways given that they were giants and there were four to do the lifting.

Jesse was reminded of falling from the plane as he sailed through the air, making his way to the only logical conclusion to this folly, the ground. He just barely managed to keep a hold on both scarf and lighter as he made impact and rolled. When he stopped, he was staring at the sky.

"Woulda been nice, had you let me put on real pants. Assholes." Of course, only now was his mind clear enough, his thoughts lucid enough, to realize he could have stopped the entire thing from happening. Deciding to embrace a gross display of power, instead of taking the waiting taxi, Jesse sent himself home. His condo in the Manchester. He also decided to dress himself and arrange for a pack of cigarettes. He figured why not, he didn't do it usually, these sorts of things, and he was really very pissed off.

With the lighter that had simultaneously broken the hold of the scarf and gotten him thrown on his ass, he lit up the first smoke of freedom. He had no idea how long he'd been in Arkham, but looking around his place, it looked just the same as when he'd left it. No changes at all.

Well. Except one.

There was a porn video that he had distinctly not had before sitting on the coffee table. Jesse picked it up and lifted his brows. "Casa Erotica? What the fuckin hell kinda name for a porn is that?" Wasn't something he normally went for, porn. He felt like he could have the real experiences easy enough, he didn't need to rely on watching other people do it. But for the hell of it, Jesse put it in the player and sat on the couch. It was in his place, it might as well get watched. He turned the television using the remote and sat back.