Allow me to tell you a story. It begins in another universe known to its
inhabitants as the Internet. The Internet is a frighteningly big place filled
with all sorts of interesting people, places, things and other nouns.
       One of the more interesting nouns in the Internet is a small
backwater planet called Email. It is here that nonsimultaneous
communication has evolved into an art form. One of the countries of
Email is called Mailinglist, where anything even remotely resembling
civilization has begun. In fact, let's be honest. It's the only country on
Email that has cities.
        Our story takes place in a moderate sized city whose borders are
not static. They constantly change by population growth, annexing
smaller townships, or (more often than not) by one HUGE explosion.
        It is a city where the most mentally deranged, socially unacceptable,
yet highly talented writers have chosen to call home.
       The city is called Fanfiction.
        This is it's story.

[Song Cue: "Fight! Otaking! (Theme from Otaku No Video)"] 

========================================================== 
                                              1996
                                      FFML NO FANFIC
========================================================== 
      An extremely fictionalized adventure of the Fanfic Mailing List
                       Documented by Erin Mills version 2.5
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

      ---ANIME NO DINER.  NOV. 22, 1996. 8:00PM---

       Erin Mills version 2.5 drained his everpresent glass of 7-Up. Being
the owner/manager/bartender of Fanfiction's most popular restaurant
was thirsty work. 
      Of course, since it was the ONLY restaurant in Fanfiction (at least
until somebody decided another one was needed) there was enough
business to keep him on his toes.
      It was the tail end of the dinner rush and it seemed that everyone in
Fanfiction had decided to eat out tonight. Not surprising as the entire city
was undergoing reconstruction (again) after the recent revenge
instigated by certain fictional characters who shall remain nameless.
John Biles and Nightelf were at their usual table, playing chess (as
usual) and leaving their food untouched (as usual).
       Marisa Price, commonly known as Misachan, was enjoying dinner
with Sebastian Weinberg and Bridget Engman. Off in her private booth,
Kun-chan was..."entertaining" someone, Erin couldn't tell who. It wasn't
White Wolf (The ostensible mayor/founder of Fanfiction, though
Kun-chan continued to insist that she held the property rights to the land
the city was built on.). The official was at another table discussing policy
with Richard Lawson. Yes, it appeared everyone was here tonight.
        "Busy night, eh?" Erin turned to freshen the glass of James
"SuperHentai" Palmer. The nickname couldn't have been further from the
truth. James was about as hentai as Mother Teresa.
         "It's been busier," Erin replied to the newcomer. "You should see
the nights when Kergma and Mike are together."
          "Little chaotic?"
           "Well, seeing as how Kergma's a lord of Chaos, I guess you could
say that. And Mike, well, he was dangerous enough as a journalist. Now
that he's editor of the Fanfiction Chronicle, who knows what'll happen.
Especially if Peter Noone blows into town again."
            "Who?"
             "You'll find out." Erin said as China, the attractive .sig waitress,
came up to the bar. 
              "Kun-chan would like another one of her usuals, Mouse wants
another bourbon and cheese malt, and Zen, Chris and Kevin just walked
in."
               Erin glanced at the entrance to the diner and saw Chris
Willmore, Kevin Eav and Zen standing there. He wondered when those
three were going to show. He reached for a couple of glasses.
               "Okay, tell Angel to seat the guys wherever they want, and the
drinks'll be ready in a few minutes."
             "Check!"
             "And tell Wing and Nagisa to cut that out. If they want to do that
here, we rent out private booths for such occasions."
              "Right,"
             Erin shook his head and smiled. He waved to the three new
arrivals as they were seated. Just another typical night at Anime No
Diner. He began working on Kun-chan's Passion Spice Spritzer.

            On the outskirts of the city, a figure dressed in a trenchcoat and
fedora put down his suitcase and looked out at the lights of the city. He
was home, back after such a long haul. It had taken him six months to get
back here from the outer orbit of Neptune. He'd make them all pay for
what they had done to him. Oh, yes. This time it was personal.
           He picked up his bag which began to emit several strange
sounds. He patted it reassuringly. 
           "Not yet. You'll have your chance, soon. Very soon indeed..."

----

     Okay folks, what do you think? Is this an idea I should run with? 
      Keep in mind that this is not meant to rag on anybody on the list or
snuff anyone. This was just a very odd idea I had kicking around in my
head for the past couple of months that I'd thought I'd share with you. 
      If there's anyone who'd rather not be a part of this fic or that I've left
out who wants to be part of it, drop me a line and I'll either remove you or
fit you in depending on the request.
                                 
                                                                  ---Erin 2.5