Disclaimers and credits at the end.

"That's the last of 'em, doll."

"Thanks." Mary Shiva watched the Writers troop out of the Cafe, grumbling and casting dark looks at the Bouncer. "Dodging mooks in Windy City's easier than serving some of 'em."

"All in day's work," answered the wooden boy, slouching against the door in that I'm So Dangerous Pose No. 3[tm].

"You don't need to tell me about it," she said darkly.

"Heads up, my not-so-merry colleagues!" A blue and white streak bounded past them, landing gracefully on a barstool. "The Beast hath glorious news to impart, i'faith, which I wager shalt warm the cockles of thy heart."

"In English, Hank," said Mary wryly. "Be quick 'bout it."

He pouted. "Don't you want to guess?"

"No."

"Well, I tried." Henry sighed theatrically, the mournful sound not disguising in the least the excited gleam in his eyes. "Our most honourable employer, His Excellence the wizard Peregrine, has given us the night off!"

"But... we're supposed to be open tonight..." She caught the look in their eyes, and shrugged. "Why look a gift horse in the mouth?"

"Huh? What about horses?" Makoto joined them at the bar, wiping her hands on her apron.

"We have the night off, doll," said Pinocchio gleefully.

"Cool! Any chance of stopping by Tokyo Tower?"

Mary winked at the younger woman. "We have the whole night to ourselves, Mako-chan. I'm sure we can fit that in. Just throw in Alfred and we're all set."

"And I believe, ladies and gentleman, that t'would be a shame to dither while we have in our hands the license to paint Subreality red." Hank somersaulted off his seat, bouncing towards the Janitor's room. "Let's party!"

Twenty minutes and several hurried button-pushing of the Shi'ar clothing replicator later...

"There's something missing."

"You look fine, doll. There ain't anything missin' to me."

"I believe Miss Makoto is referring to Mr Peregrine."

"..."

"Whoops."

"Should we?"

"Lead the way, Mary."

"I'd serve cannibalistic bunny slippers any day, but I'm not going into his office first."

"Now, Mary, it has been less than 24 hours since the alien bloodthirsty parasite inhabiting our employer consumed its last victim."

"*snicker*"

"That's not very funny, Hank."

The Subreality Cineplex was, as usual, packed to the brim with various Writers and fictives, ranging from definitely human to vaguely sentient-looking. Even the odd Muse or two can be seen here and there, mingling in the crowd. Subreal dimensions, however, assured that everyone has the best seat in the house.

"I don't know why I am doing this."

"Just sit back and enjoy the movie, Perry." Mary nudged the uncomfortable wizard with one of her elbows, nearly upsetting the popcorn tub he held on his lap.

"Very well." Peregrine watched the screen intently, occasionally raising an eyebrow at the previews of several upcoming fanfics. "Is what we are watching a good movie?"

"A good movie? A good movie?!" Hank swept his arm towards the screen expansively. "It's a classic! A little long perhaps, but a must-see, I assure you."

"That Connie Hirsch bird sure knows how to write, and no mistake," Pinocchio agreed.

A small mage-fire flickered in the dim theatre as Peregrine read aloud the small leaflet he was given at the cineplex entrance. "Playing tonight at Subreality Cineplex: Kid Dynamo by Connie Hirsch. Drawn to the Lodestone Rock by Dandelion. Crimes of the Heart by Indigo. Dire Fates by David Tai and Rod M. The Four Horsemen by Ken Wolfe. A series of short features by distinguished fanfic authors including Kaylee, Amanda Sichter, and Maggie the Cat." He paused. "Fascinating."

"I still say we should've gone to the Ken Wolfe movie."

"Miss Makoto, may I remind you that you were outvoted four-to-one?"

"*sigh* Of course, Alfred."

"Ssh! The movie's starting!"

"Lady Shiva, kindly remove your hands from my popcorn."

"Touchy, touchy."

"I think the part I like best was the battle with War. She kicked butt!" the tall brunette enthused, munching on rather soggy fries. "Hmm... next time, I think I'll watch "Dire Fates"..."

"I beg to differ on "Kid Dynamo", Kino-san," said Peregrine. "The Asgardian journey was easily the most engrossing plot of the movie."

"Apples or oranges," she replied philosophically.

The sextet, driven by curiousity, decided to dine at the Subreality Cafe. They drew curious glances and half-whispered comments at first -- even with the Cafe's varied patrons they still stood out as more than "normal". A level look from Peregrine, however, soon put a stop to it.

Mary sipped the last of her jumbo gin and tonic. "Sorry to shatter your illusions, but you're both wrong. The relationship between Magnus and Stevie has my award."

"Spoken like a doll."

"Don't make me hurt you, Oak Boy."

Makoto looked vaguely insulted. Fortunately, the arrival of Alfred (who looked as if he was wearing a waistcoat even in a conservative blue shirt) forestalled any further and probably provocative comments. The laden tray he carried brought a groan from Hank and cheers from the rest of the group -- except Peregrine, naturally.

"I told you he could do it," Mary announced triumphantly, holding out a hand to the blue-furred mutant. "Hand 'em over."

He handed her the two five-dollar bills with good grace, acknowledging her win. "May I ask as to how you managed to procure the drinks? Major Mapleleaf seemed more than reluctant to do so after our fourth round," he said to the former butler.

"Simple. I merely informed him that should he refuse to serve us the drinks, we would drive the Writers away from our Cafe. To here."

Silence reigned for a full minute, followed by an outburst of laughter that shook the rafters.

~If I die of vanity, promise me, promise me,
they bury me someplace I don't want to be,
you'll dig me up and transport me, unceremoniously,
away from the swollen city-breeze, garbage-bag trees,
whispers of disease and the acts of enormity
and lower me slowly, sadly and properly
Get Ry Cooder to sing my eulogy,
At the hundredth meridian where the great plains begin~

Priss Asagiri tossed back her long blonde hair to the thunderous applause of her appreciative audience. In one smooth, energetic movement, she bowed to the still-clapping fictives, muses, and writers before bounding backstage to prepare for the second half of her concert.

"Isn't she great? That duet with Lila was... was..."

"An interesting study of two divas forced to share the same stage?" Alfred suggested dryly.

Makoto tossed a twig at her fellow employee, giving him a mock glare. "Priss is not a diva. She's a rock singer."

He caught the twig easily, laying it carefully on the grass. It was a fine night in Subreality, and Makoto found it easy to persuade the others to go for the concert in Kirby Park. The park was a rare setting for a singer like Priss Asagiri, and her concert promised to be, at the very least, memorable. Even as she watched, more late-comers straggled in, hoping to catch at least a few songs. The only thing that spreads faster than news, she reflected, was disaster.

"My taste in music leans more towards jazz and blues, but I have to admit -- not reluctantly, I assure you -- Ms Asagiri's vocal talents are nothing short of polished," Hank commented, idly leaning against a tree.

"You said it." Mary waved to Sara Pezzini, who was sitting with Elektra and Dr Strange. The detective looked more relaxed than usual, returning the bartender's gesture with enthusiasm and grinning at a joke from Strange.

"I too, am impressed by her," said Peregrine.

"Her voice or her looks?"

In the ensuing ribald laughter, he merely raised his eyes to the sky with an air of martyred tolerance and asked, "What have I done to deserve this, Creator?"

"You became Manager," Mary pointed out.

"It was a rhetorical question, Lady Shiva."

"Hate to cut short the heartwarming talk, guys," Makoto interjected, "but she's back!"

Pinocchio whistled. "Lookin' good, doll!"

The singer had changed into clothes different from her usual concert attire: a black see-through lace blouse, over which she wore a leather bustier. A tight pair of black pants and heeled boots completed her outfit. She wore no jewellery save a slim silver choker, from which hung an ankh. Kohl lined her eyes, and the overall effect was that of a strangely exotic goth.

An expectant hush fell over the audience when she raised a fist, only to explode into a storm of clapping and whistles as she again bowed to the them. It died down gradually, fading as her voice rose.

~You're always waiting on the tide it's time you decide
I've walked down long roads that seem to have no end at all
You never wanted time to end to let my life offend
It's time to realize what hides deep inside your holy eyes~

The music swelled as she launched into the chorus, drawing in her listeners into another, private world. It was a world of here and now, where nothing mattered except the sensations evoked by the magic her song wove.

~Hold on tight, hold on fast
This ain't the kind that always lasts
If you want me to go just ask me to go I'd go
All the way my love over the hills and right on through you
Run and all my love over the hills and right on to you
Over the hills and right on through you~

"Compatriots, I believe I speak for all of us when I say we should do this more often."

"Try to pick up Rally Vincent, only to be chased away by that inspector just as things got hot and heavy?" Makoto teased. Strong winds whipped her long hair around her face, making unruly the usually neat locks.

Hank placed his hands over his heart. "The course of true love never did run smooth."

"Sure, big guy. Sure."

"I thought I was going to have to kick over a bucket of ice water when you two started talking 'bout gun sizes," Mary smirked.

"Gun sizes?" Peregrine raised an eyebrow. "That was most unbecoming of you, Henry."

"You ain't one to lecture, boss," Pinocchio grinned. "I'll bet you and that Pluto doll were doin' more than talkin'."

A hint of a blush flared briefly on his pale cheeks. Mary noticed that his tailored black suit were creased, and a smudge of something which looked like lipstick graced his collar. She hid a satisfied smile, safe in the knowledge that her trenchcoat's pocket contained the numbers of several men who would be only too willing to do her a little favour...

"Setsuna?! You were flirting with Sailor Pluto, Guardian of Time? I've seen everything now." The green-eyed girl faked a swoon, effectively landing in Pinocchio's arms.

"I suppose your conversation with Nightwing was purely platonic?" Peregrine inquired smoothly.

"Uh... well..."

"I thought so."

"I think you'll want to see this, sirs and madams," Alfred called out, pointing at the starry night sky. "A meteor shower!"

A chorus of oohs and ahhs greeted the breathtaking display of light and colours, followed by whistles from Hank and Makoto. They were at a vantage point to see the best of the shower, standing on top of the tallest building in Subreality: the House of Unfinished Ideas.

"A Remy fictive must be proposing to Rogue again," Hank sighed.

"Don't spoil the moment, blue."

Alfred's face was rapt. "I haven't seen meteors like these for a long time."

"The last time I watched one," said Makoto softly, "was a week before my old boyfriend dumped me. I guess I didn't wish hard enough."

Peregrine's eyes were distant, almost misty. "I saw a meteor falling through the skies the night my Writer decided to retire... and I never would see another until I found myself at the doors of Subreality Cafe, pinning my hopes on a little ad that washed my way."

"Maybe it's your special omen or something," Makoto suggested. "I should know -- Rei's big on omens."

"And what would she say about this one, Kino-san?"

"You'll have an interesting life?"

He smiled at her, the shy curving of lips pleasantly transforming his usually stern expression. "I am already living it."

Mary watched as the last of the meteors burn itself out, feeling her eyelids beginning to close. She stretched sleepily. It was quite an impressive stretch, given the number of her arms. "*yawn* I'd love to stay here for the rest of the night, but tomorrow is another day."

"... of cooking..."

"... of cleaning..."

"... of serving drinks..."

"... of accounting..."

"... of playing host to the Writers..."

"... of kicking the fictives' arses down the road..."

"Sometimes I think you enjoy your job too much, Pinocchio."

"What else is there for me, doll?" He grinned again. "I love my job."

"Let us be off, then," said Peregrine, gallantly offering an arm to Makoto, who took it with a playful curtsy. "The Cafe awaits."

THE END

Disclaimers and notes:

Official stuff: Henry/Hank "The Beast" McCoy and all X-characters, Dr Strange, and Elektra belongs to Marvel. I don't remember who Major Mapleleaf and Rally Vincent belong to, but it isn't me. Kino Makoto/Sailor Jupiter, Meiou Setsuna/Sailor Pluto, and Hino Rei/Sailor Mars belong to Naoko Takeuchi and associates. Nightwing and Alfred Pennyworth belong to DC. Priss Asagiri of Bubblegum Crisis was created by Kenichi Sonoda. Pinocchio was created by Carlo Collodi. At The Hundredth Meridian was sung by the Tragically Hip, and Steaming was sung by Sarah McLachlan. Sara Pezzini belongs to Top Cow/Image. Though I have no permission to use any of these characters/songs, I'm not making any money out of doing so. Please don't sue me.

Stories and writers: Crimes of the Heart belongs to Indigo. Kid Dynamo belongs to Connie Hirsch. The Four Horsemen belongs to Ken Wolfe, writer of numerous excellent Sailor Moon fanfic. The cannibalistic bunny slippers belong to Abyss. Drawn to the Lodestone Rock belongs to Dandelion. Dire Fates belongs to David Tai and Rod M. Kaylee, Amanda Sichter, Maggie the Cat, and all writers mentioned belong to themselves. The Elektra and Dr Strange in this story came from Danse Macabre. Unfortunately, I've forgotten who wrote it. I sincerely hope the aforementioned authors will not mind their names/works/characters being used for the purpose of this fic.

The Writer's Cafe staff: Peregrine belongs to me. Mary Shiva belongs to Falstaff. Pinocchio belongs to Carlo Collodi, but the interpretation here is Seraph's. Hank, Makoto, and Alfred belong to their respective copyright holders, slightly modified for the purpose of the Cafe.

Subreality: The concept belongs to Kielle. Seraph is to be bla-- err, credited for the "reboot" of the Writer's Cafe. Kirby Park, the House of Unfinished Ideas and Tokyo Tower were created by Skyrocket. The Subreality Cineplex, as far as I know, was invented by me.

*gasps for breath*