The Universe's Mixer

"Are we going to do this?"

"Do we have any other choice?"

"Wait until we combine, losing our identities?"

"Then we are agreed."

"Agreed."

"He will be angry."

"For a short while, and he will understand. We were meant to go out fighting; he chose us for that reason did he not?"

"I always supposed he chose us because we were so very..." A hand lifted to wave at the body they both knew rather well.

"Yes. Part of it. Now, are we going to talk ourselves to death, see which one of us finally succumbs to the stupor of boredom, or are we going to finish this?"

"Mortal combat." There were simultaneous twitches of lips.

The twin petite vampires didn't settle into defensive poses. Instead, they moved as soon as they decided to proceed. It had been decided the moment they began talking about the situation their Makers were in, or their Maker. Both small vampires could feel their Makers, but it was strange to see there was only one. The Pamela left behind still felt she was not alone even if her Maker had been absorbed. Her brother was around as well.

Fangs bared, claws out, clothes were ripped. Blood sprayed, skin torn. The apartment that they'd kept together ruined, and neither vampire cared as they were both fighting for to survive. The fight continued throughout the night, and the sun would soon rise. The battle for existence had to come to an end and quickly.

The swing of a candle stick caught a Pam on the jaw; it might have been a lucky shot. Because they were so very even, though one Pam had been in steady survivor mode much longer and more recently, it had to be a lucky shot. Jaw dislocation was followed by a back swing and a broken fang.

"Done." One said finally. The other closed her eyes, a hint of a smile on her broken face. The last bite was given; blood flowed. As one Pam faded, the other learned more and more. There would be only one, and hopefully their Maker wouldn't mind which one remained. The broken vampire was left out to disappear in the sun; her survival instinct not strong enough to get her out of it. The one who remained curled up in the ruined darkened apartment. She'd talk to the Maker soon. He'd understand; he'd have to.

There were many things within this city that Hannibal found himself enjoying quite a bit. The tour of the Opera House had given him hope for his future here. He wasn't sure what he would have done if the place didn't have any kind of culture to it. Hannibal was a man who needed beauty in his life.

He had sent a watch to Clarice Starling, finding her rather easily. He was sure she wouldn't be very appreciative of the fact that he'd been able to discover her whereabouts, but he knew - somehow - that she would still wear the watch. He hoped that she would at least be able to enjoy it, even if it was obligation that moved her to place it upon her wrist. He had taken great care to ensure that it would match her coloring and be able to be worn with anything she might pick out for work. It would not do to gift her an item that could only be used once in a while. A watch was supposed to be functional, though he knew it could also be beautiful.

Lady Murasaki's flat was perfect for him, and the memories of her lingered as if she'd just walked through the space earlier in the week. There were painful parts to that, of course, but for the most part, Hannibal enjoyed being there.

He had to find Will Graham. Enough time had gone by for the man to think that he'd truly seen a phantom. That he was safe in this strange place, and alone. Hannibal imagined that he was not doing very well with everything that the City promised, its moving streets and shifting buildings, not to mention the strange people. He would find Will and offer a gentle, guiding hand. An easy friendship with a face that he already knew.

Hannibal stood in the park, watching the sun set, thinking of all these things and more.

Hannibal had not been in Fangtasia in a long time. With the people he'd connected to most in this City gone - the loss of both River and Lestat were keenly felt by the young doctor - Hannibal wished to find out if other people he'd enjoyed were about. He'd been told by his older self that Clarice Starling was in the City, and yet he did not wish to seek her out, lest he ruin the game the other Hannibal was playing. It was a fragile thing, he knew. He also knew that the woman knew about him. The elder had admitted as much.

He found himself a little disheartened when he approached Fangtasia and discovered it to be rebranded under the name Purgatory. The outside was roughly the same, however, and it seemed to him that a similar clientele was still hanging around by the door, though there were also an awful lot of plaid shirts in the mix.

Keeping his eyes open for Pam or Eric, Hannibal showed his ID to the doorman and slipped inside.

Half of the bar was still as he recalled, leather and chrome, black and red, fit for the gothiest of goth kids. The other half, however... well it was a strange mix with all the wood and rustic accents. The ones that were wearing the plaid went over to that side, and there seemed to be an uneasy truce between the two factions.

Now the name made a little more sense.

Neither group could be particularly happy about what had happened. Hannibal assumed it was another joke by the City itself. Something it thought it was doing to help. Something that had turned out very badly.

He found an empty booth big enough for four people and sat with his back to the wall. His eyes scanned carefully, but he saw no sign of the Viking King or his lovely progeny.

"Pam, are you here?" Hannibal said the words low, as if he were in normal conversation with somebody across the booth from him. He knew he did not need to shout. If she did not hear him, she was not in this building.

John was finally getting used to the City. Well, in terms of the noise, smells, and lights.

It took a little while, but food and the darkened Purgatory refuge helped. He hadn't explored much, being uneasy at the prospect of meeting his sire's double. He was still slightly anxious about the prospect, though the talk with his actual sire had helped a great deal.

There was one face, however, he was looking for now. He hadn't seen Pam yet, taking a moment to get his bearings and to retrieve his things from his apartment. He'd been relieved to find his guitar, which looked to be brought from the old world, like him.

And now it was time to find his sibling and mentor. After all, the resolution to learn to hunt and feed like a true city vampire was all well and good, but he needed instruction. And there was nobody better to do it than the woman responsible for his new life in the first place.

John took a moment to reach out, remembering Eric's instruction on how to locate his family. It was still not as natural as it had been in the previous world, but he sensed Pam fairly quickly and went to find her. The fact that he might not run into the one who knew him didn't even occur to him.

Melody had no idea how the hell she'd gotten to a city, she was just overjoyed that she had. There was a brief panic that she'd come alone, without anybody she knew, but she'd closed her eyes and looked inward. Pam was there, inside of her, and it called to the vampire somehow. Pam was here in this city as well.

There were cars!

There were shops with pretty little useless baubles!

Clothing stores!

Restaurants!

A hot dog cart!

Melody stopped at the last one, digging through her pockets frantically. These weren't her clothes, even though they fit her wonderfully. She'd woken up in an apartment that wasn't hers, too. Nobody had shown up to kick her out, so she'd stayed. She'd grabbed a handful of change from the counter, the street urchin in her kicking in automatically. That's what she dug for now. She was going to have a hot dog. No! A polish sausage! No! Kielbasa! With everything on it! And a big ice-filled bubbly soda to wash it down with.

She wanted to find Pam, of course. To see if Eric was here, too. And John. And Aidan. Their little weirdo family. She was just a little too overjoyed at not being in a shithole, dealing with starving people and unnatural world occurrences that she couldn't quell the excitement enough to think. Once she'd eaten, it would be better.

Purgatory was awful. Although it was much better than what she'd previously experienced. Purgatory came with a few benefits, or more this place called the City did. She was no longer forced to live with some ridiculous rationing, not enough humans to sustain a vampiric population of any number. She understood the need, but it didn't make it any better. Here, she could feed as she wished.

Truth was Pam didn't lack in feeding. She'd had a steady source in a certain dark mutant, and if Pam was being honest, she'd admit that she missed Melody. The woman could be replaced on some level, but Pam had cared for her. There was a definite connection. The Pam of the City, the one who'd had all the nice things and the regular dinners, had not had that, and while they weren't playing a game of whose life was better, each Pam might have felt they'd had it slightly better than the other.

Having served her duty in Purgatory, a phrase both women found amusing if somewhat annoying, Pam slipped into the night to find something different for dinner. She'd been following a hunter, as she was warned, and thought of having a snack. It was risky, yet not so risky she would need fear reprimand or recrimination.

The man had little clue he was being stalked for he made his way to some other, possibly busier bar. It looked packed, and from the sounds of things they were killing cats inside.

"Wonderful, drunken karaoke." She stood for a moment staring at the bar's sign advertising the night's event. Perhaps she'd gone from Purgatory to Hell.

They stared at each other, just stared, like identical statues created by a sculptor who had a penchant for Alice in Wonderland. One looked a little thinner than the other, as if she hadn't fed as well, but that would right itself with the bounty that surrounded them.

Now and then one of the curious in the City would come close, and if they were of the same mind being identical they probably, the twins would turn toward the unsuspecting or all too hopeful victim and hiss, showing fangs. As soon as the victim got his/her fill of the vampiric spectacle, said victim would run back to a group for some celebrating or to a table to relish living another day around vampires. There were those who didn't care for the show, but the two statues would just go back to staring at each other.

"Eventually one of us will have to ask who owns the bar." The "healthier" petite blond spoke. She was the Pamela Ravenscroft who'd found her way to the City and the abomination of a bar.

"We both own it, partly. Eric as well." The other petite blond replied. The City blond nodded slightly; there was truth in that. Truth that the City blond had already considered; while she had shared a very amusing moment with her twin, and even her clothes, the survivalist and territorial creature within her wanted to claim the bar for hers and her Maker's own. She knew the woman across the bar from her would feel the same. Even if she was some what disappointed by the mashup.

"Erics as well." The City blond corrected.

"I wonder if they could tell us apart." The "ravaged" blond commented almost idly. The City blond smiled, just a hint of a curved lip.

"Either would if you kept sitting there, not working. There are some clothes in our office; change and get to work. Perhaps we'll see if they'll be able to tell." Both Pams knew their respective Makers could suss out who belonged to whom, but it could be interesting to test them. Either way, they would make do as they always did, only now there were two of them making do instead of the one alone.

There were a couple of things Abraham was certain of in the City. One, Beauty was absolutely delightful and two, trying to sense the City's emotions gave him an enormous headache and a hangover worse than beer ever would. Fortunately, both of these effects were short lived.

A few days had passed and Abe was growing disgruntled at how at home he felt in this City shaped cage. The stresses of his previous life were not an issue here. He worried for Liz and the fate of the twins and the fate of his brother, Hellboy, but having surmised how little he could do to return to his universe he had become content to ride out whatever the City had planned for him.

One of his radios had gone off a couple of days ago with an announcement of missing residents. He didn't feel any attachment to the names so he did not think to look into it.

The pond where he resided was close to Beauty's cottage and he gave a glance to the French style house before heading into the City proper with his gloved hands behind his back. Having gotten used to the stares from others, he noticed they were beginning to get used to him. At least a little.

Though, still, a disguise might be nice. Maybe a coat...a costume beard...large brimmed hat. Might not be too difficult to find...

He eyed a clothing store pondering if he should enter.

The petite vampire wore one of her cuter pinker outfits. She looked more like a 50s tv mother than the sexed up vamp Maggie met in Purgatory. Her hair was kept in place by a wide headband that matched her kitten pumps, gloves, belt and the trim on her dress. Yes, she could put quite the outfit together. Tonight Maggie was seeing Pam as she was when she wasn't at work and still felt like dressing up.

She had allowed the human to make the arrangements, only after getting permission from Eric. The doctor was trusted with her Maker and his bride, though Pam was only interested in what the Viking thought of the young man. She'd picked up the other woman in a white Pontiac Firebird, one she'd found one night and taken a liking to.

It didn't take her long to get them to the clinic for the appointment, and soon she was helping Maggie out of the car.

"I hope this doesn't take long." There was a flash of fang to explain why she may want things to go quicker.

There had been far too many quiet evenings at home alone. Maggie was not, by nature, someone who liked being solitary, which made her weird back home. Her bulldogs were great for noise, and she liked talking to them, but when she waited for an answer she knew that she had been shut in for far too long.

But, to put it pretentiously, the muse had been with her. She'd spent the past week doing almost nothing but drinking tea and writing, and she now had actual content to put up on her blog. And thousands of crisply-edited words later, she was up for a relaxing night out.

Make that a night out where she could blow off some steam. She'd heard about a club. A vampire club, if that could be believed, and considering that this place had no KA and Hannibal Freaking Lecter had written her a scrip for pain meds, she was pretty sure that it was entirely possible. The horror movie junkie in her said that she absolutely had to go, no question about it.

She sorted through her closet, picking out her third-sluttiest outfit--high heels, tight pants, a sheer cropped top, and left her long hair loose. At the last minute, out of concession to the early-21st-century aesthetic of the City, she added a bra for modesty's sake. She frowned at her reflection, trailing her fingers over the scars from her gunshot wound, and decided to leave it uncovered. Screw anyone who couldn't deal.

She grabbed a tiny purse, left the TV on for her dogs, and made her way out to the bar.

There were rules. Rules that kept the small vampire from misbehaving. Rules and spells really. They made sure the petite blond did nothing bad to the silly humans, especially the hunters. Of course, when they were outside the bar, far from the bar, nowhere near the bar, that was another story.

There had been a hunter who had seen fit to come after her and a possible playmate, outside the bar. As they were outside the bar, the hunter felt that he could attack. That or he was simply too stupid to realize that if he did not down the vampire and do it without anyone else knowing who had done it, he was going to be killed by said vampire's hand - somehow. He might have had a death wish.

Though, as she followed the idiot from the bar, slipping through the shadows with ease, she began to wonder if perhaps there weren't a better punishment. Turn the moron into a fangbanger? Her smile pulled even more as she did so like this idea.

Pam was about to make a man wish he had been killed the night he had been born. There was nothing like self-loathing to ruin a person's life.

"You really should have finished the job." She said softly as she moved quickly to catch the hunter's hand in a vice like grip and lead him to a near-by alley. "It would have saved you so much misery."

Lisbeth spoke aloud in Swedish: "What a pathetic fool you are, Salander."

After deciding she was in love Mikael Blomkvist and going so far as to buy him a thoughtful gift and a confession of her feelings, she saw the journalist with his boss and -- their body language had been quite obvious as to their intentions -- lover. Lisbeth turned on a heel and began to walk home, throwing the gift into a dumpster when she had really wanted to throw it at Berger's head!

By now she should have passed Zinkensdamm, but instead found herself on a street that could not have existed anywhere in Stockholm. The night sky had turned to black and there were only stars, brighter than stars in a city ever should be, to light to path on the sidewalk.

I've lost it, she thought. I am completely insane and it's Mikael Fucking Blomkvist's fault.

It was a nice sentiment but if Lisbeth had gone mad, she wouldn't have imagined a city like this. She remained dead calm as she walked, in case it was some sort of temporary insanity that fresh air might correct. It didn't and, Lisbeth began to suspect, the roads were shifting on her. Her sense of direction was aided by a photographic memory. The alleys and turns she took didn't add up.

Lisbeth saw a bar, Purgatory, up ahead. Her mind had already considered several scenarios which might account for her Wonderland-like displacement. If she was drugged or had gone insane it was probably an appropriate time to get crawl-home drunk. The bar's interior didn't make Salander feel much better about her situation, looking like two establishments cut and glued together in half. On one side, there were burly North American looking rednecks. On the other, goths who were decked out in various degrees of fetish gear.

And everyone was speaking English with North American accents.

Lisbeth had the don't-fuck-with-me attitude of a hunter, but the tattoos and piercings of a fangbanger. The truth was that she didn't belong on either side. She took a seat at the bar as close to the invisible divider as she could and pulled out a pack of cigarettes from her pocket. Lisbeth didn't see any No Smoking signs, and was having the sort of day where she couldn't be assed to care about any ordinances, either.

"Vodka," she said while holding up three fingers. The shots were just to start.

It was a usual night. A very usual night, which meant boring. Pam was dressed in some of her fetishistic finest, black leather, corset, heels. Her hair was pulled up in a severe bun; a leather collar with a very nice buckle wrapped bout her neck. She seemed very comfortable in the gear even if it wasn't her normal. She rested her hands on the counter as she waited for the tourist to stop staring and order.

There were hunters on the other side of the bar who looked very much like they wanted to end the vampires who were serving the humans in the "nicer" side of the bar. There were vampires who were watching the hunters as if they wouldn't have minded feeding or scaring them. Pam wouldn't have minded scaring many of them brainless; then again, she honestly wondered how much brain these hunter types really had.

Yes, just a usual night in Purgatory. Just another night of brainless bore.

Pam stood at the door, checking ids and learning more of the people who lived in the City. She didn't need to know them, but it wasn't like she had a choice at the moment. She refused to go in to the damn place, although she had admitted that she liked the new name. It was better than the old name, and it wasn't so painfully on the nose as Fangtasia.

She was wrapped in dark denim jeans and a sweater that didn't hide much in the way it hugged her body. The boots went above her knees, and they added over five inches to her height. Her hair was pulled up in some ridiculously intricate braid; she had had practice so very long ago, not with her hair alone. Then again, Eric would probably not care for her sharing that information.

She glanced at the clientele, the very mixed and painfully not what she wanted to deal with at times clientele. She sighed softly, and continued to look at ids and faces.

The petite vampire sat across the road from the hideous monstrosity that had once been her business, or partly hers. Now, she was sharing it with a blond who was tasty and wouldn't mind killing her. Of course, she was sharing it with a blond who wouldn't mind sharing his bed with his wife and her, but that was something and someone else entirely. She hadn't gone in unless she really had to, and even then she spent as little time as possible inside.

Pam sat perfectly straight, her ankles crossed and tucked under the bench. Her gloved hands folded neatly on her lap. She looked like a Stepford wife, a very young Stepford wife. With a hint of Alice of Wonderland fame thrown in. Her hair was pulled into a bun with a bow that matched her pink of ensemble. Her dress' skirt was full, but she managed to sit there without an apparent worry that it would fly up to reveal those things it shouldn't; she'd worn one of these skirts before. He waist was cinched with a cute little black belt that matched her kitten heels. She looked as if she'd stepped right off a 50's Harper's Bazaar. The petite thing could dress rather nicely.

She stared at the door leading into the establishment. She probably been sitting there for quite some time, and it was possible if no one noticed her she would continue to sit there until the sun demanded she go to ground. It wasn't that she was wallowing, but rather she was examining the problem and trying to determine the best solution. Eric wished to co-exist with the hunters, at least for now, but she did not see a profitable end to it. It was an unpleasant bit of surviving as far as she was concerned.

Pam stood in the middle of what used to be Fangtasia. She didn’t move. She just stood there in her khakis and cashmere. There were small red spots on the pink, and if one only looked at the sweater, one might think the strange pattern had been on purpose. If one moved closer, or one had preternatural senses, one would know what was on her sweater was blood, and it wasn’t human. If one actually looked at her face, one would see the telltale traces of the vampire’s tears on her cheeks.

The petite vampire had worked hard with and for Eric to build up the hole in the wall place in a hole in the wall city of Shreveport. She’d worked damn hard to make it a booming business, and could be credited for part of its success. This was partly hers, and now...now some fucknut of an unseen entity had come in and ruined it.

She might brush away the tears with words, saying that the decor hurt her soul or some such, but it was the very nature of the beast that brought forth tears. Or more the very undoing of the bar as she had helped to make it.

So, there she stood, still as a statue. The bloody tears dried to her cheeks and her sweater. She knew eventually she would have to stop moping, but at the moment, she didn’t really care to.

( ---- )

Note: There is no posting order in this. We know that some people won't be able to throw in very often or as fast as we will. Don't worry about it. Just jump if you see a chance you want to take. Otherwise, we'll count your kids as there and witnessing what happens

Eric had sent out a messenger with the invitations to the actual wedding ceremony. A thing that would be small and intimate with only those in attendance who were important to either him or Baba or the both of them. He didn't think that this part of it needed to be in the public eye, and he didn't want any interruptions or missteps. This part of it was very important to him. Eric had not taken a wife since Aude. He'd never thought to ever again. He wasn't the sort of vampire who enjoyed living in a nest and he didn't require constant companionship that other beings craved. But he did love Baba and did want for this to happen.

The time he picked for it all to happen was late night. He wanted his vampires able to attend but not have to worry about too much time between the ceremony itself and when the reception would begin. The moon was full and the stars were out in force. It was warm but breezy.

Location had been a little more difficult. He didn't want it to be traditional, but he also didn't want it to feel as if they were getting married in a school cafeteria. In the end, he picked a building he had found when he'd first begun to be able to walk in the sun. It was an old building. It had been in the City for a very long time. It looked as if it had been transported from England, from a time before Pam was even born. It was also empty and had been for some time. It was unused and ignored. Eric had it cleaned and decorated. Everything was in darker shades of purple, even the flowers which were orchids and some of which were almost black. Candles were the only illumination, and there were hundreds of them. All carefully placed around the edges of where they would be.

Eric had gone with her suggestion of royalty in some ways, but not others. The colors for one. But instead of some garish kingly outfit, he was wearing a very nice and finely tailored Armani suit. On his head he wore a simple iron crown that was very much like the one his father had worn. Just a circle of metal with a little decoration carved out at four points. He had sent Baba a crown as well. Hers a little more fancy than his own.

He waited with the man that she had picked to officiate the wedding. Eric didn't know him, but knew of him. He would have known immediately upon meeting that this wasn't just some human, though he'd been told as much already.

Hunting. Pam was ever careful about feeding; she didn't do it out of fear so much as wanting to avoid inconvenience. That blond hunter had been quite a pain in the ass and then some. So, instead of bothering with the alleyways some nights, which did make her feel a little like she was feeding on vermin, she went to the park to chase down a few late night joggers. They did give a good run when they were frightened. Also, the chemicals produced by fear made the blood interesting, much better than what it usual in the City's people.

It was after one of these little excursions that Pam felt sated enough to sit on a bench and just stare up at the stars. They weren't right. They weren't how they should be back home, not that she was an expert, but being a vampire did give her quite some time to become acquainted with the little night lights.

The petite blond leaned back against the bench, her eyes lifted to the heavens. Her hands folded in her lap. She wore a button up blouse, pale pink almost thin enough to see through, and a pair of black pants, not Mom pants and definitely nothing one would find in the GAP or Old Navy. The shoes were simple black ballet flats, which probably cost enough to pay for a good night out including the dinner, show, and drinks. She might have just run down a jogger, but she looked like she'd just gotten out of her little Tommy's PTA meeting.

Pam stared at the phone. It wasn't the one she was used to, but she'd learned it quickly enough. Apparently so had her maker as he was using it to give her orders. She considered for a moment throwing it at the wall, but tantrums did nothing when they went unseen. That and she wasn't one to throw tantrums, not often if at all.

She was to have a sibling. A sibling she had never met. One that was keeping her maker very busy in the making. As it was a very last minute thing, Eric had told, with the understood 'order,' her to inform Baba Yaga that he would be MIA for a few days. He did not say that she was to inform the witch what exactly he was doing, only that he was busy, which meant she had the very strong inclination to keep the why to herself.

The petite vampire didn't go immediately to find the woman - Eric had told his progeny where to find the small creature - because the bar wouldn't keep itself. She did all she could to stall the inevitable task of finding the witch, but soon, her work ethic of actually doing something had her out of the bar and racing to the library. It took her some time, zipping through the building, but she finally found the dark hard beauty surrounded by books. ( She blinked at the sight. )

Pam was hungry. When Pam was hungry, she fed. Now that she was in a place that she didn't have to worry about certain ridiculous rules that kept her pent up, Pam could feed how ever the bloody hell she wished. How ever, when ever, and where ever.

It just so happened, that this particular night had the how, when, and where right behind a particular bar, that was not exactly vampire friendly. She'd lured the man in with a smile and a very good bit of eye contact. Sure, glamouring might be cheating, but she wasn't there to play fair.

She knew there were humans to watch for...maybe. Small women who had the idea that they could actually do damage to vampires. She knew nothing of hunters. There had been those Fellowship types, and they did know a thing or two about killing vampires; yet, they didn't seem to have a foothold in the City. As far as she knew, other than this Bill human, who wasn't completely in the know, she could do as she wished. She was cautious, of course, which was why she would keep the human under her "spell" until she'd fed, and she wouldn't take too much. In fact, she'd make the whole thing fun for the idiot.

That had been the plan anyway. When she found stakes on said idiot, she strongly considered killing him. Or...