"Agh, what the sprock?" Flash bang. One minute, he and Superman were getting ready to head back from the 30th century so that Kon could finally rejoin his friends and family after being dead of all things, and now he's... somewhere? He flies up to get a better view. Hawaii, apparently. Though it doesn't look like it did last time he was here. And Kal's nowhere in sight.

"How long was I dead?" he wonders aloud, looking around. "Uh, Superman?" He isn't quite shouting. But even a quick look around with a combination of x-ray and telescopic vision shows no bright red cape. "Kal? HELLO? ANYBODY?"

This is definitely Earth. Definitely Hawaii.

He isn't quite sure what to do now. So he starts flying towards Metropolis. Maybe Kal's there. Or someone at least.

Alessa is often in two places.

Sometimes, she is awake, and then she is in one place. Right now, that place is the hospital on the farm, where she's gradually healing from third-degree burns on most of her body (and complications thereof). She's been supplied with a small array of entertaining items, including paper and crayons and a few books. She's also got a window, which is nice. It's been a long time since she's been able to truly see the outside.

Sometimes, however, she's not awake, and then she's outside of the hospital, outside of her body, and walking, not burned. And trying to puzzle out what's going on with this new place. Everything is Different! But not in an entirely terrifying way!

In both cases, she can be called upon to interact somewhat. If you're into that sort of thing.

Are you living on the farm? Are you passingly familiar to Windows 95?

THEN YOU ARE GETTING A SWEATER. NO, YOU DO NOT GET A SAY IN THIS. The pikachu and the crobat have somehow gotten wrangled into one each, and are trying to get used to this new thing a small distance away from the porch, where 95 is sitting and knitting, with a growing pile of knitted goods.

To redeem your sweater, please speak with any available representative. Which would be 95.

Title: Geography: Without Polaris, part II
Character/s: Renne
Location: London, England, ShatterEarth
Rating: G
Status: Open






He didn't know where the Lucy being had gone.

All he knew was that this quiet, ghostly ruin of a city was both fascinating and frightening all at once. He'd resolved to explore it, accept it with its curiosities and its dangers.
It was time to press on.

Chirping quietly, the creature bumbles over a broken road, past the skeletons of buildings and eventually, down a once-proud and thriving thoroughfare. That thoroughfare is not proud and thriving anymore except with the remnants of civilisation and the creeping plants perhaps destined to take the city back to nature. He keeps on going, despite the increasing number of bumps, scrapes and scratches accumulating -- that always comes with the territory of true-blindness and having neither the ability to walk upright nor the knowledge of cane training. Still, all that is minor compared to what he finally finds himself facing.

He doesn't know what Westminster Abbey is. Or was. He doesn't know the place's significance. He understands large buildings from the acoustics inside them and such size is immediately understood. His chirps echo through once-hallowed halls.
His feet and almost pawlike hands patter on the dull marble floor.

Renne chirps at a broken pew that has the audacity to be an obstacle and thunk him in the face.

So Sam hasn't seen Leah in a while. He does that a lot - disappears, doesn't see people for a long time. Always has (exception: Stanford) but it's only been recently that he feels bad for it. It isn't hunts keeping him away, it's other things.

Like trips to Lawrence and strange conversations with Jo.

Which is why he made his most recent trip to Metropolis, otherwise known as Operation: Go To The Farm To Retrieve Fruit As A Gift For Your Friend So She Doesn't Glare At You (How Does She Do That?).

The Porsche pulls to a stop outside Leah's apartment and Sam gets out a grocery bag in his arms. Leah gets a lot of favors from all kinds of people. He's hoping no one's brought her peaches, apples, and pineapple in a while.

Jordan has three traveling companions. One of them is an excitable young man, easily and also currently excited (and has been excited for several months). One of them is also excited, but much better at hiding it - and also pregnant. The last one is hungry.

Journey whines softly beside her feet. Jordan shifts a foot to quiet her, not wanting to put her gun down. She could hear the geese coming from nearly a mile away and has been waiting for them to clear the trees.

And then they'll all have dinner.

Something is wrong here. Wilhelm knows this, because he did not wake up in his workshop this morning, but in the middle of rubble somewhere he didn't exactly recognize. Perhaps it was New York City, but it looked different from pictures in books that he had read as a child. Everything was broken and Wrong.

He checked his pockets for his derringer and a heavy wrench, because nothing seemed safe about this place and he needed some form of defense. Nodding and adjusting his cap, he set out.

Somewhere in New York, there is a gravestone. A five-foot-tall boulder, roughly square and about three feet wide on every side, but lumpy and uneven. The word RENEE is gouged into the flattest side.

Today, there is a girl sitting on top of it with her knees drawn up to her chest and a canvas bag perched beside her. Every so often, she takes an apple out of the bag, eats it, and tosses the core onto the rubble-covered ground.

Jo's feeling more like herself. Right now, that means she's restless.

As much as she's missed feeling restless, it's such a restless feeling. She's pacing, flipping the smaller dagger in her right hand back and forth, over and through her fingers, in a motion she's not even paying attention to. She knows this feeling. She knows where it's heading.

And she's just masochistic enough (again .. finally) to be debating between drawing it out, holding it off, waiting out the game of the thunder waking up in her veins more each day, until she snaps or going out and finding a fight now.

There are three people sitting out on the grass by the farm house.

Three people and a cake.

Three people and a cake, and some presents.

Three people, a cake, some presents and party equipment.

One of the paper blowers is already on fire.

Say this about the Frays: They can throw a party.

Barbara Gordon can't really 'go for a walk', but even she sometimes needs fresh air. She really misses her car from back home. They haven't had time to modify any of the recovered vehicles here for use by a woman with no working legs, and that means she can't actually go too far from the farm. Still, she goes as far as she can. It's not far but it gives her at least the illusion of distance. Of solitude.

At least if she ignores the laptop tucked under her seat which will give her a signal if any7 of a dozen of her algorithmic alarms go off.

The shock of actually finding the source of all that light had been enough for Mai to actually show an expression. Because cities weren't supposed to be that big. Buildings couldn't be built at that scale. She hadn't said anything, and it was a good thing for Zheng that he didn't say anything because she would probably have bit his head off.

She had urged caution, of course, and that had resulted in them bedding down in an alleyway. The city had set her even more on edge, so she hadn't slept well. Which was why she was awake during Zheng's watch when the group of would-be muggers showed up and were promptly bruised and bloodied. And then again a few hours later when a pitiful child had wandered into their alley begging for help.

Mai had suggested that the child should find help elsewhere, but Zheng was... well, unsurprisingly he wanted to provide assistance despite the fact that they had almost no supplies. So Mai had told him he was free to do what he wanted and waved him off.

Then she'd followed them at a distance. She knew he was liable to get himself into trouble and need to extract himself. Not that she cared much about his survival in general, but she needed someone she trusted (as much as she trusted anyone) to share watch with during the nights.

All of which explains why she is now standing on a fire escape outside a room with its windows busted out listening to the idiots inside taunting Zheng for being so gullible. Oh, the child had needed help, of course, but that's because some morons with guns had shot his mother in the leg and forced him to draw out the man who had beat up their friends earlier.

Mai pinches the bridge of her nose and suppresses a sigh as she angles one of her blades slightly past the edge of the window frame in order to see into the room. A half-dozen scraggly men with guns, a woman on the floor still bleeding, the boy who had come into the alleyway, and relatively attractive girl of about seventeen with yellow hair, and Zheng.

Zheng, who she knows can take out all six of the idiots without getting shot himself, but who is hesitating because there might be collateral damage. Sometimes his naivete is really aggravating.

"Not feeling so tough now, are you?" one of the men with the guns taunted, aiming a kick at Zheng's ribs.

Character/s: Renne
Time Period: Post-Apocalyptic / Cross-Time
Location: England, London outskirts
Relative Date: A few days after Renne's arrival
Rating: G (so far)
Status: In Progress






He'd always wanted to explore England, the land of one of his heroes.

What he didn't expect however, was that strange creature to have suddenly disappeared. Renne had pondered on that while he continued to wander across the strange ground and had come up with his only working theory: The creature called Ricky was either a slave and wanted to remain one or, was not a slave. Not a slave and had a job, perhaps like a sailor on a ship with a Captain and all. Or was he a student with a teacher?

Ponderous questions but the waning day bade him to think about more pressing things like food and shelter.

Some days had by now passed and Renne finds himself on the outskirts of an eerily silent place. By the acoustics, he can tell it's something similar to a city, or what once was a city. The eerie silence and how his chirps echo off of the tall, skeletal things that used to be functioning buildings sends a chill down his back. Yet he presses on, crawling carefully onto what he recognises as a semblance of a paved street.
Having not a clue where he is except that he's on a planet that isn't the place he used to be, the blue-skinned beastie clutches a plushie against himself and bumbles down the thoroughfare.

He'd found food and had sufficient shelter for when he'd slept. Now, his goal is to find out just where he is. And maybe, find out if he's not entirely alone. Logically, if that strange Ricky fellow had been present, others might be as well. Renne had doen the solitude thing before and after a time, the silence had gotten to him.

And besides, exploring isn't quite as exciting when you do it on your own.

----------------

(( OOC: ::peer:: Ello? ))

Do you know why this world is hateful?

It's not just because of the complete lack of the Dark Lord. It's not because there are far too many muggles around.

I's not even that her wand was broken.

It's that her wand was broken by muggles and then she was put in a box that flew and then she was left in the middle of a really hot, dry nowhere without her wand. And all she did was a little unforgiveable curse.

But what's most hateful about this world is that two men have just taken her prisoner and have tied her up and now they're bickering. With each other.

A single figure is trekking slowly up the road to the Cooper Farm as the sun begins to creep over the horizon. Though only awake for an hour, Ichigo feels as if he's been walking all night. Jane gave him directions to the farm when he told her he needed to get out of the city, but it still took him several days walk to get there. His other half was less than co-operative in going in the direction Ichigo wanted it to, and more than once Ichigo felt sure he woke up several miles in the wrong direction.

Nevertheless, Ichigo has finally found his way to the farm this morning. He's not sure what he intends to find here, but he knows that staying in a crowded city is dangerous with his transformations every night. Maybe it'll be better out here in the open.

Hopefully Jane wasn't wrong about the farm. He doesn't want to show up after all this time, only to be told to leave from the wrong end of a shotgun.

There is a radio, in Kansas, in Smallville, on a farm, in a bunker, in a room, by a crib.

It's crackling.

"Mel? ... Mel?"

Jo's out, disappeared somewhere. Dean's actually pretty OK with that, because seeing Jo want to do things, want to go places? More than just 'OK'.

So he's whistling when he pulls into the farm, the Impala's wheels just an inch or two above the dirt, and pulls her over to park by the barn.

"Hey, Spots."

"Bluuuuuuuuurble!"

Dean grins, leaning down to gingerly pat the tentacle as thick as his wrist that wraps around his ankle, and then not-so-gingerly dislodge it and head on past towards the kitchen.

Rachel has been busy. Actually, Rachel hasn't been seen much around Metropolis. In fact, Rachel hasn't been seen much of anywhere... aside from Detroit.

She comes back to the apartment in Metropolis at night, because Tobias sleeps there, too, and would worry if she didn't. And while she's never seen him, Rachel has a sneaking suspicion that she's occasionally followed to Detroit, and watched. Even though all she's really doing there is watching, too.

Unless, you know, something happens. And she's in a position to do something about it. Things like that happen, you know.

(very often)

Sometimes, they happen a little more unexpectedly than she'd like, where she's not in a position to help someone being targeted but is actually the target. The things attacking her rarely ever know exactly what they're getting into and she's yet to deal with any serious damage from any of them. But today, one of them got lucky and surprised her. And the morphing power, while useful and incredibly powerful, is not an exact science.

Rachel has been unable to morph or demorph without reopening a four inch gash across her collarbone and chest. In her human body.

It's getting complicated. Not to keep it covered - her wardrobe has always been modest, if stylish. And not to keep it clean - Rachel is nothing if not fastidious in her appearance.

It's that she literally cannot morph until she heals and it is taking too damn long.



It's only been about two hours since she got the cut, of course. And right now, she's standing in an abandoned drug store back in Metropolis, in the back room of the pharmacy. She's stripped off her outer shirt, standing there in jeans and the top half of her morphing outfit. The gash is large and ugly but not dangerous, not when she's surrounded by bottles of alcohol and sterile bandages.

No, the real problem is... the gash is going to require stitches. Rachel has only performed stitches twice in her entire life, both times on someone else.

She's eyeballing the sealed pack of needle and thread with a deep frown. There's no way she's coming out of this without a scar.

Stupid Andalites and their imperfect science.

Dean is apparently living at Jo's. Leah is working and while she usually has time for a drink, Sam doesn't want to interrupt her, or hang around too much. No jobs to do, that he knows of. No real desire to go out by himself to do them, either. There's nothing wrong with his car and he's not Dean - meaningless tune-ups don't interest him. His guns and knives have been cleaned and polished, he's stocked up on bullets, salt, holy water. Ransacked more than a few bookstores and churches. Sat around the apartment he usually shares with his brother and stared at blank walls.

Sam is bored. Very, very bored.

And in Kansas.



Metropolis is a few hours from Lawrence. What's in Lawrence is... complicated. But maybe it's time he finally checked it out. Looked it in the eye and addressed it's existence.

(the "it" in question is debatable)



For now, Sam Winchester is sitting on the front step of the apartment building he sleeps in, frowning to the north.