The Universe's Mixer

Captain Sparrow found himself hard pressed to remember the last time he'd seen his first mate.

He knew he had one.
He knew she was tallish. And curvy. And Amazon-like. And a good cook. And her name was Zoe.

But he could not remember the last time he'd actually seen her. On the ship. Where she technically lived. And should, technically, work. It's not like the ship was going anywhere, but there was such a thing as courtesy.

Jack didn't stay on the Pearl all the time, either. He roamed about, frequenting bars, visiting the female companion or two, trying to find his friend Karen, occasionally perhaps wondering about Hannibal or someone else he'd met. He always came back, though.

A floorboard creaked behind him now as he opened the door to his quarters, and without thought, Jack removed the pistol from his pocket, drew it, and turned to face the person or thing that created the squeak.

"Ah," Jack said, a pleased smile spreading across his face. "Not a good idea to shoot the first mate." He thought of Barbosa. And grimaced. "Never does end well."

"Mistress Washburn, what kept you?"

[Open]

What had happened?

He remembered meeting Deb, walking in the park, discussing their pasts and maybe their future. It had all been so pleasant. He hadn't even thought about Xanadu, the lovely woman who had so bewitched him just days before. For sure, he had not worried about Fred and her growing attachment to this Sam character who she seemed to think was an American version of him. What was wrong with the British version?

Bloody hell.

Somehow, he ended up alone again. Sitting by himself on a bench in the park, wondering what had happened to his life.

He needed a drink. And a hug. Maybe both at the same time.

It had been a very strange morning. Raven had stepped out onto the street and found chaos; a huge increase in new couples (she recognized the signs - she'd lived through the early days of Gabe and Poe's courtship) and the occasional winged creature swooping overhead. To be honest, she wasn't sure what to make of it all, but several people had warned her that the City was a downright odd place to live, so she hadn't let the insanity keep her inside.

She'd made it halfway to school when a hoard of giggling children pulled her off the street. "Come on," one little girl said, wrapping both hands around Raven's wrist and tugging her towards the fort that had been haphazardly constructed of leftover liquor boxes. "Come on, they're storming the castle."

Raven turned a perplexed stare on the child. "What?"

"The uruk-hai." A bespectacled older boy announced, as if it should be obvious. "They have archers. We need reinforcements."

That made sense; Raven had never read The Lord of the Rings, but she'd seen the movies. And, well, if the kids needed an elven defender, so be it. Raven had the pointed ears to go with the part.

"Legolas to the rescue," she announced, and gestured towards an open door. "But don't you think we should move to a real castle with walls?"

"We can't go in there." One of the children said, "We tried and the guy at the door kicked us out."

Raven glanced back over her shoulder, and only then spotted the wooden sign hanging over the entrance: 'Hog's Head Pub.' Oh.

Lestat sat perched atop a fire escape, sitting like a gargoyle in a frock coat, blond hair shining in the moonlight and purple eyes glittering.

This. Was. Fun.

He was watching the carnage. Precious little he could do about it... he was scanning minds for Karen, but more and more there were no actual minds to scan and he was getting nowhere. Here and there, he'd knock zombies out of the way or twist their heads off, but mostly he was watching the progress of one particular pirate... because he simply could not believe it was possible.

Captain Jack Sparrow, when all the talk of zombies began, could think of nothing better to do about the problem then get lit. So he had. He half wished he had that piece of gold again, or his stupid undead monkey... Jack feared death. He really, really did. But he could handle zombies. If he could handle immortal pirates that were partly skeletal, he could handle zombies.

And so, with unbelieveable luck, he was now winding his way through the streets, bottle in one hand, sword in the other. Anything that bothered him got its head lopped off. And as he went, Jack muttered to himself...

"'s'not even original, y'know," he said, slicing through tthe neck of a growling, shambling foe. "'s'been DONE. AND! AND! There's not even any proper treasure involved, ay!"

God, was he disappointed.

Lestat loved him. Instantly. And wanted to applaud him.

Because the captain was not, for a second, losing ground.

"Today is the day," Lestat whispered, "that you will always remember, dear undead festering piles of flesh, as the day you almost bit Captain Jack Sparrow."

The vampire started to laugh.

The City she had a sense of humour sometimes though most would not see it that way. Another task, another dispatch of one of the chosen ones. The list was getting long but not long enough and now someone new to be added right quick.

Whether from drink or general imbalance, though the latter was guessed, the pirate captain staggered along the water, on the dock close to a ship. It could only be his for whom else would have one that looked like that?

Following at a distance, there was a slight breeze in the air but he had not noticed he was being followed yet. Quicker came the footsteps, hard soles tapping on the ground.

Would be by knife tucked away in the pocket or by his own sword at his side? He had a reputation that was for certain so something of a plan had to be made.

If one kills a pirate captain, can they be the pirate king?

"At times the world can seem an unfriendly and sinister place. But believe us when we say there is much more good in it than bad. All you have to do is look hard enough. And what might seem to be a series of unfortunate events, may in fact, be the first steps of a journey."

Violet Baudelaire had slipped away from the group long enough to hop inside a dumpster to grab some bits of wire she had spotted when it happened. It had only been a few months since her escape from the island and her eyes were the biggest clues, for a young lady of 16 she was haunted. But something had happened while she was digging for the wire and she was no longer in a dumpster outside a London science expo, she was now in The City. When she came out with the wires Violet just looked around for several minutes and realized something,"This is not the expo or even London" as she hopped out with wires and her purse in tow.

As she walked to try and locate the expo Violet had a feeling this was just the first steps of another journey. She had no idea while in the dumpster she had been transported into The City and it showed as she walked. But a young woman in an old fashioned skirt and blouse would sort of stick out along with the little bag of parts tucked into her purse. Dark eyes scanned the various shops and people as she walked, looking for something or someone to lead her back to the expo.

She'd spent hours carving each selection of wood uniformly, working each piece until they were smooth in her fingertips. Tiny sprite creatures circled her room in excited patterns, encouraging her with tiny voices. In reality they were sometimes more of a hindrance than a help, but if they ever wore on her patience Nimue did not show it.

"Nimue look!"

"Nimue see!"

Crouched over a dirt floor, painting uniform letters on each newly crafted wood tile in red, she still wore hoof-shaped platforms, attached only to the balls of her feet. Her calves had adjusted to the unusual footwear long ago and she'd ignored the small ache in her back. Combined with the small antlers she wore in her hair, the creature though human cosmetically in appearance, also looked very wild. When she finished and the paint had dried, Nimue cast the runes.

"Nimue look!"

"Nimue see!"

"Nimue alone?"

Each tile landed face down. Not one offered her insight as if to say you have no future. Nimue looked up excitedly, wildly about her underground hut. The shelves, as always, remained silent, as was her bed and her hearth and her straw rug. There were no answers and yet...

"Nimue go!"

"Nimue scared!"

"Nimue hiding?"

The seer froze in place, knowing that eventually she had to leave the safety of her home and discover what silenced the rune tiles. Yet she prolonged her only option until she heard the frightened sniffles of the sprites and noticed that they had stopped talking as well. If there was one thing Nimue knew about the sprites it was that they rarely stopped squeaking. She rose to her feet, and for their sake, felt a bit braver.

"Nimue go?"

"Nimue look?"

"Nimue find."

So she did.

Leaving the hut, the forest was utterly recognizable. The trees were all strangers and the seer did not feel welcome. Whatever magic had transported her to this new land did so without the smallest sign or warning. Feeling faint, she steadied herself against one of the strange trunks.

"Gods, what is this?"

She had only to walk a small way before this new place became even less familiar. She spied on a building from a safe distance behind the edge of the forest trees. The structure as imposing as a castle's keep, and yet there nothing built or in place to protect it. Nimue immediately noticed the absence of stone walls and guards. It looked to be made of wood like a peasant's hut but far too grand to be so. It appeared so box-like and unnatural that Nimue immediately mistrusted it. The neon sign in front lit without a hint of natural or magical assistance and she came to the conclusion that it should not be able to exist at all. That it did startled her.

She could not comprehend what the large metal slabs parked in front of it were.

She'd spent so long staring at The Bates Motel that the moment she noticed the skyline of The City behind it, she fell to her knees which were scraped upon impact, praying loudly to the trees which had no reason yet to care for her, begging between gasps and tears for protection.


( OOC )

One big glorious fancy room, filled with flowers and sparkling chandeliers. A big buffet table filled with so much food it looked as if the table would crack, spilling everything everywhere. The long bar ran the entirety of one wall, and looked as if it had pretty much everything anybody could possibly ever want set up against a mirror.

It was clear that the City expected a fairly big turn out.

All the tables had note cards on them, and each note card sat in front of a chair. Each had writing scrawled on it, but only one word "Jack". No designation of which Jack should sit where.

( OOC )

Elizabeth was livid, absolutely angry over the fact that Beckett had neither apologized, nor denied what he'd done to her father. In fact she was sure he flaunted it. He chose his fate. No, you killed him you ugly little.. Her mind wasn't focused, not completely. She'd handed Jack over for Will. But had Will sold them out? And Barbosa was none too happy about her handing Jack over. In fact he was saying something about Calypso. The small boat rocked to and fro as they came back to the Pearl.

The silence was deafening. Barbosa climbed out first, followed by Will who extended his hand to her, Elizabeth refused to take it. He made a deal with Beckett, how could he? He knew Beckett had killed her father! He knew it! How could he? In her blistering anger she pushed the hand away but missed the rigging to climb up. Instead she plummeted between long boat and the Black pearl and into the water.

( It was cold )

Jack was happy. He was monkey-free. So very happy about that he could have kissed young Hannibal for taking that thing off his hands.

He was still sans gorgeous first mate, and he still wanted to see Inara again.

So, the day after Hannibal's departure, Jack left the Pearl, compass in hand, focused on the lovely girl he'd met. The needle pointed, and Jack followed.

Which is why when he did not find Inara right away, when he found, instead, a largeish building in his way and stood there bewildered, he had no problem turning to the person next to him and saying, with utmost sincereity, "Tha's not supposed t'happen."

The shift was over, so it seemed. People were calmed. The hospital was less busy now. House was missing. He had very little to keep him tied to the hospital. It seemed like the burden of the diagnostic wing was placed on his shoulders, but there wasn't nearly as much work to be done as House had made it seem. Apparently, all the talk of paperwork and response letters was bogus. The things that Hannibal found on the desk that had previously belonged to the good doctor amounted to maybe an hour or two a day. If that.

He didn't get steady cases in, either. One a week at most. Some weeks, nothing.

So with the lack of everything, Hannibal found himself with free time he wasn't at all accustomed to.

River had shows, and practice to keep her busy. There was no way that he could go to everything. Some of the events, he wasn't allowed in to. Like dress rehearsals.

The park had him bored after not too long. Nothing exciting ever happened.

So today, today Hannibal headed down to the docks. The waterfront. Perhaps today he would find something new. Somebody new.

"No, honey, I told you it was me and Candice Bergen, not Candice Cameron. Bergen." Karen was smiling big, talking to somebody she didn't know. The conversation might have been going for hours, and it might have just started. "The last good time she and I had together is that time we set up Martha Stewart, everything since then has been one long horror ride." A dreamy look overtook her features. "I just love her to bits."

She was sitting in a bar. Or maybe it was a waiting room. For all Karen knew, it could have been a fancy new fangled indoor park, for all the plants hanging out all over the place. She'd not seen so much foliage since nineteen fifty four when she went out with Green Peace that one time to Viet Nam.

"You're not even listening."

The Pearl had moved.

The Pearl was no longer in the Swamp. Or. Wait. Jack couldn't be sure. He'd sat cowered under the window in his captain's quarters, fingers on the window sill, and periodically pulled himself up to peek out of it.

When last he'd seen it, The Black Pearl had been happily moored in the bay. Which Jack could not explain. He'd yelled for Zoe when he started to notice the changes, and asked her if she had any idea 'why the world was goingk all manner of bendy-like.'

Zoe had not had any idea.

Running a hand through dark hair, Jack stood in the middle of the City, near where he knew there had been a fountain or a monument of some kind. It was notably, as it were, absent. He scratched his head.

He withdrew the compass from his pocket and set his jaw, sighing. Ah. Ah ha. The needle pointed to his right.

"Tha's interesting," Jack said, smirking. "Tha's very interesting."

Jack went right.