Dislaimer: The mainstream version of the vict-- err, fictives belong to their respective copyright holders. Gargoyles belong to Greg Weisman and Disney. Real Life people belong to themselves. No profit is being made from this story -- oh, come on! As if a self-indulgent fanfic will ever sell.

The thick, silvery fog made its way through Subreality, cutting a path heedless of any that stood in its way. A passing Hama, muttering something about "those damn kids", was immediately decapitated. It skirted around the Mhairie Hut, inexorably moving towards its destination: Subreality Cafe.

Floating towards the doors, it was stopped by the Bouncer. "Hold it, pal," he said menacingly. "I don't recognize you."

The fog seemed to sigh, and wrapped itself around him. A faint whisper was overheard, followed by a sympathetic wince from the Bouncer.

"In you go, then."

It waved a wispy tendril in thanks, then slowly seeped into the Cafe. For a moment, it hesitated as the lights and noise washed over its form. Recovering, it floated to the bar where the fog seperated and coalesced into three distinct forms.

"Isn't there ANY other way we could travel?" grumbled a slim brunette, who eyed her surroundings warily. An organic-looking bracelet was briefly sighted as she tried to get Major Mapleleaf's attention.

"Pezzini, we are Uncreateds," said one of the others, lowering her voice at the last word. "We do not have many of the luxuries the Posteds have."

"Yeah, but she already wrote bits of it!" the first speaker argued. "Is she ever going to finish the damn thing?"

"She will write us when she will," said the last one, a handsome -- beautiful, really -- red-haired boy. He calmly sipped at his sake, casually sending a few drunk Cyclops (who mistook him for... err...) into the state of unconsciousness.

Pezzini scowled. "Kurama, must you be so inscrutable?"

Thankfully, a fight was averted by the timely appearance of the Major, who greeted the other woman. "Hey, Storm. Which of Yasmin's are you? Saw her the other night trying to bribe her Muse with Guylian chocolates -- I assume she's writing again?"

The white-haired mutant nodded, and lowered her voice. "I am from the X-Men/Witchblade/Yuu Yuu Hakusho story she has been trying to write. Without much success, unfortunately."

Sara Pezzini snorted. "Writer's block. Yeah, right. She just wants to laze her holidays away."

"You can't really blame her," said Kurama. "You've seen the place she has to live in, haven't you?"

"Yes, but..."

"Are you Yasmin's fictives too?" interrupted a slightly accented voice. The trio turned, and behind them was an attractive young woman with shoulder-length red hair. The NYPD detective tried not to stare -- the newcomer's skin was also red, her bright blue eyes strangely pupil-less.

Storm, on the other hand, studied her from head to toe. "Yvette?" she ventured cautiously.

The redhead nodded. She was considerably different from her mainstream version, having mastered the control of her mutant power. This Yvette had matured through the years into a poised, confident person. She walked with the grace of a dancer -- or a killer. A pair of round earrings peeked out from under her hair. Each was black with a white dot in the middle, bisected by a red line that also circled it. Her uniform was still mostly black, but out of choice and necessity, not because of some unfathomable reason no one can quite pin down.

"I'm from the prequel to "Hero", which she hasn't written yet," Yvette groused, taking a seat at the bar in one fluid movement. With a frustrated sigh, she continued, "Jono and I are really getting impatient waiting for her to fill in all the details..."

{{...like our first kiss, right luv?}}

She grinned at her fiance, blue eyes twinkling mischieviously. "Speak for yourself, "luv". Personally, I'd like to know when we first did the horizontal lambada, as my mentor would say."

Kurama choked on his sake, and Sara tried not to laugh at Jono's expression. The Englishman's ears were suspiciously flushed, though his eyes were as fathomless as ever.

Ororo smiled at the Yugoslavian woman. "At least you are not promised to someone as I was," she said. "I am sure that she meant well, but she does have a tendency to... work herself into corners."

"Yeah," Sara agreed. "Remember Northlight's challenge? If it wasn't for Indigo's prodding, she'd probably have to bite her tongue and swallow her pride."

{{I will write every story I promised someone, come 'ell or 'igh water or centuries of torment at the 'ands of writer's block,}} Jono quoted. {{Point of 'onour with 'er, innit?}}

The wind-rider frowned slightly, catching sight of a familiar blond in the shadows, embracing an even more familiar woman. "Let us not talk about it."

Yvette's lips twitched as Jono sent, {{Don't even think of cracking that one.}}

Would I do that? she thought to him. Innocence radiated from her face like moonbeams.

{{In a second.}}

Whatever.

Pezzini squinted into the dim Cafe, then suddenly straightened. She nudged Kurama forcefully, nearly spilling his sake.

"What?!"

"Look over there," she hissed. The others, catching her words, turned towards the area she pointed to. As one, their eyes widened.

"It's her!"

The skin of Yvette's hands began to harden, her nails turning razor-sharp. She stepped forward, eyes narrowed, prepared to take out her annoyance on the unlucky woman. But Ororo's upraised palm stilled her advance.

"Kurama, you have the best eyesight among us. Could you ascertain if she is indeed our Writer?"

The reborn fox spirit's gaze seemed to sharpen, focusing intently on the dark figure. He shook his head. "No. She looks very much like Yasmin, though."

{{Must be 'er avatar from Kielle's challenge,}} Jono said. {{Faez, over 'ere!}}

The woman smiled (or at least tried to) and waved, making her way to them. Along the way, she managed to discreetly stomp on eight Banshees' toes.

"'lo, people. How're you doing?"

{{Err...}} Jono looked at the mutant teacher, who sat slumped against the bartop. Her dark eyes carried both anger and sadness -- mostly anger. {{You don't look so good,}} he commented lamely. Beside him, Yvette rolled her eyes.

"That damn woman wrote me into a fight with Sean!" Faez growled. "Can you beat that? First a mushy bonding scene with Jono -- not you, the other one -- and then a war of words with my boss! You'd think that after all that mess, she'd have the courtesy of working on the later chapters. But nooooo.... she hasn''t even posted the chapters she finished!"

"You and me both," said Sara sympathetically. "At least she gave you some attention. We'd kill for it. I heard she's writing a Gargoyles fic now."

Storm tapped her nails against the bartop, deep in thought. "So the problem here is getting her attention, am I correct?"

"Yes," said Yvette, who immediately caught on. "You're saying that we have to do something to get her attention--"

"--and, ah, motivate her to write," Kurama added.

{{But 'ow?}}

"I do not know, Jono," Ororo admitted.

Sara, who had been consuming a little too much vodka, grinned suddenly. "I've an idea, guys."

{{Are you sure this is going to work?}}

You agreed to it, remember?

{{I was under duress!}}

Mmm-hmm.

{{An' insane.}}

That, too.

{{Wot do you mean by that!?}}

Hush, we're here.

"Here" was the top of a fairly high hill, one of many that disappeared and re-appeared in Subreality depending on the Writer. Its slopes were the least steep of all the hills, one of the reasons why it was chosen. The other was the sparse but tenacious vegetation.

"Ready, Kurama?" called Yvette to the third member of their party, who had stayed silent during the climb.

He nodded, spreading his arms as if trying to encompass the whole hill. Eyes closed, he concentrated. The magic within him, the part that was Kurama and not Minamino Shuiichi, flared to life.

Jono and Yvette took an involuntary step back as all around them the plants began to thicken and grow at impossible speed. Cracks appeared in the moist earth, bowing to pressure from the greedy roots. Vines and branches shifted and twined under Kurama's command. Faez, gliding down from her assigned patrol around the hill, was nearly snared by a particularly zealous tendril. She cursed and slashed herself free with her talons. The red-haired boy paid her no heed.

Some time later, he lowered his arms to his side. The plants abruptly ceased growing, finally settling into a thorny jumble of intertwined parts. "It's done," he said, looking up at the night sky. "Now it's Storm's turn."

On cue, a cool breeze heralded the wind-rider's arrival. She androitly navigated through the jungle that Kurama had created, landing with her dignity (and uniform) intact. "Good work," she complimented him. "This should be more than enough."

"Thank you."

Ororo waved the others back. "You would do well to seek protection from the forest, and not stand too close," she warned. "I do not know whether the drying would adversely affect you." They hastily retreated behind the trees and bushes, Yvette hardening her skin just in case. There was a rustle behind her, which turned out to be Sara Pezzini, pulling leaves and bark out of her long hair.

"All clear," she whispered to the mutant. "Faez?"

"Same. Storm's doing her act now."

Sara's eyes turned to Storm, as did all the others. An impossibly hot wind brushed past their faces, whipping the X-Woman's white hair aside. She was standing in the middle of the scorching gale, but seemed not to notice the dramatic climb in temperature as she directed the wind towards the jungle. Where it touched, leaves turned to crisp and stems shrivelled. They died faster than they grew, heat stealing away water and life.

The hot wind soon died as well, replaced by a cooler one as Storm swept back dried leaves that had been blown away. "It is now ready for the two of you," she said to Sara and Jono, who nodded and stepped forward. The Witchblade, more cooperative in this version, transformed into its original gauntlet shape, tendrils forming an armour on the detective's body. Jono merely took his position at one end of the jungle, as Sara took hers at the other end.

"Ready?" shouted Yvette, held aloft with Storm's help. She acted as the referee, making sure that no mistakes were made. They couldn't afford any, not now.

"YES!"

{{Yes.}}

"Go!"

Simultaneously, bursts of flame erupted from Jono and Sara, both making sure that they did not punch through the dead jungle, but merely set it ablaze. The surrounding areas was bright with firelight, and Faez hoped nervously that no one would come to investigate -- except for a certain someone. She put her precognitive powers to good use, directing Ororo to where the flames were getting out of control. Rain soon quenched the maverick flickers, and the fire burned steadily.

"Are you sure this going to work?" Yvette asked Sara, echoing her husband's earlier question.

"If this won't work, nothing will," she answered.

"The Scribe will hardly be pleased that we are burning a hill."

{{We aren't burning a 'ill, just part of it. 'S not like Subreality can be polluted anyway. We'll claim extenuating circumtances.}}

All of them were now hovering in the air, Storm's winds carrying those who cannot fly. They looked down at the inferno, the burning plants forming five fiery words:

OI! YASMIN, WRITE US ALREADY!

The End.

The Subreality Cafe concept belongs to Kielle, though I don't know who owns the copyright for the Mhairie Hut. ;) Kielle "The Scribe" Newcomb and Indigo belong to themselves. I don't remember who invented the Bouncer and Major Mapleleaf (I think it was Falstaff), but my guess is that they're practically public domain by now. :)

And now my fictives: Ororo Munroe aka Storm, Sara Pezzini, and Kurama are from my still-in-development X-Men/Witchblade/Yuu Yuu Hakusho fic, tentatively titled The Cruel God Rules. Yvette and Jono are from the untitled and unwritten prequel to Hero (I swear I'm working on it). Faezah "Faez" Khalil is my avatar in "Welcome to Generation X, Teacher". The "familiar blond" and the "even more familiar woman" are from Between Your Sorrow and Your Joy. You can guess who's who. <g>

My Muse, more often than not, belongs to herself. I belong to my computer.