The trenchcoated figured stared at the darkened windows of Anime
No Diner. Really, Erin thought he could cover up what happened here.
Hide the ugly secrets under the cheery facade of a place for all of
Fanfiction to hang out and eat.
Well, the figure would change all that. By the time he was finished,
the entire population would be demanding Erin's head on a silver platter.
The figure bent down and unlatched his suitcase. Something crawled
out of the case, its tendrils waving in anticipation. The figure pointed to
the restaurant and said one word:
"Quellish,"
The thing at his feet began moving towards the restaurant...
(Cue: "Fight! Otaking!")
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1996
Graffiti of Fanfic Generation
FFML NO FANFIC
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A highly fictionalized adventure of the fanfic mailing list
Documented by Erin Mills version 2.5
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Chapter 1: "Ten Little Fanfic Authors..."
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---KUNO HALL, NOV. 25, 8:45 AM---
Chris Willmore was awakened by the sound of bells. Telephone bells
to be precise. The Ryoga lookalike climbed out of bed and picked up the
phone.
"Hello?" he said, yawning.
"Chris? It's Erin. Can you come down to the Diner?"
"Now?"
"Yes, now. It's urgent."
"How urgent? I've got a final to study for."
"How about 'So Urgent That The Revenge Will Look Like Nothing
Compared To This?'"
Chris's eyes widened. "That bad?"
"Worse." Erin said ominously.
When Chris arrived at Anime No Diner, the first thing he noticed was
the crowd. In addition to himself, John Biles, Kun-chan, Misachan,
Webdragon (in his human form), Sean Gaffney, Panda, Saffire and Mike
Loader (in his trademark trencoat and fedora with a card reading "Press"
in the hatband) were gawking at the second thing he noticed.
Giant tendrils of some kind of plant were covering the entire
restaurant. There seemed to be no way of entering the building through
the leafy green mess. Erin stood near the entrance, looking over the
group and back at a sheet of paper he held in his hands. When he
noticed Chris, he stepped down to Webdragon and exchanged a few
words.
Webdragon nodded and the entire group stepped back as he
morphed into his namesake. He inhaled and blew out a tongue of flame
that obliterated the foliage. Chris thought he heard the plant give off a
scream of agony as it was incinerated.
When the flames had died down, Webdragon returned to human
form and Erin led the group inside the damaged bistro.
"I suppose you're wondering why I called you all here," he began as
he led the group inside the remarkably undamaged (save for some
overturned furniture) interior. He stopped short as he saw James Palmer
sitting at the bar, his head on his folded arms.
"Dammit," Erin cursed. "I told China to put him out last night."
Letting James sleep for the moment, Erin lead the group to the office
in the back of the restaurant.
"So what's this all about, Erin?" Misa asked as everyone found a
seat.
"Yes, what's so important that you had to get us all here this early?"
said John.
"It has to do with this," Erin said, holding up the sheet of paper. "I
found it this morning on that overgrown salad Webdragon just
barbecued. I thought you'd all like to see it since it was in an envelope
addressed to all of us." He placed the paper on the desk in front of him.
John picked up the paper and began to read:
Ten Little Fanfic Authors all over deadline
One blew a fuse and then there were nine
Nine Little Fanfic Authors trying to cheat Fate
One pressed his luck and then there were eight
Eight Little Fanfic Authors fighting for a Lemon
One took a bite and then there were seven
Seven Little Fanfic Authors writing just for kicks
One lost his pencil and then there were six
Six Little Fanfic Authors brave, strong, and alive
One learned a lesson and then there were five
Five Little Fanfic Authors behind a locked door
One ran out of time and then there were four
Four Little Fanfic Authors straining hard to see
One fell down and then there were three
Three Little Fanfic Authors searching for a clue
One went on the run and then there were two
Two Little Fanfic Authors trustful of none
One found a gem and then there was one
One Little Fanfic Author accused for the others being gone
And the City went and hung him and then there were none.
"Any ideas who would be this cliched?" Erin asked.
"Besides you?" asked Mike, laughing. Everyone laughed.
"Touche," said Erin. "You're right, it's probably nothing. But since it
hasn't been that long since the Revenge happened, I thought I'd better get
your opinions."
"Well," said Webdragon rising from his seat. "Given that someone
must have sent that 'overgrown salad', as Erin called it, to trash this
place, there might be some merit to the message. But it might also be a
prank typical of what goes on around here, especially when things get
slow."
"Agreed," said John. "I say it's a prank. God knows there's enought
people in this town to warrant this kind of joke. Especially since anything
around here can be rebuilt in short order."
"I can make a few inquiries if you like," Mike said to Erin.
"No thanks. I'm willing to accept the prank theory. But if any of you
go missing, I demand the rights to say 'I told you so' first."
There was good natured protesting and laughter.
"Anyone up for breakfast?" Misa asked when the laughter died
down.
"Sure, sounds great--" Saffire began, but she was cut off by a
distinct metallic plunking sound. More plunking became audible as if
thousands of pieces of aluminum were being hurled at the building. The
authors filed out of the office and looked at the street outside.
"Oh, dear," Panda said. "Spam."
Indeed, one of Fanfiction's more bizzare weather quirks was
occuring as blue tins of the infamous lunch meat showered from the sky
bouncing off the buildings, sign posts, pedestrians and anything else that
got in the way. It also meant another thing.
"To our terminals!" John uttered the call to battlestations. It was well
known that Spam could hurt only two things in Fanfiction, bandwidth and
hard drive space. The odd weather phenomena managed to somehow
cause incredible lag time in Fanfiction's computer systems. No one knew
quite how a rain of Hormel meat-like product did this but it was enough of
a problem to make the entire population rush for the delete button.
"Another time then!" Erin called as the assembled authors rushed to
their hideouts. Hanging up the "Closed for Renovations" sign in the front
door, Erin turned and headed back for the office, deciding to let James
sleep through the rain before kicking him out.
In the office, he sat down and reread the poem.
*Any ideas on who would be this cliched?*
*Besides you?*
Mike had a point. Everyone in Fanfiction had a flair for melodrama,
but only he would use a cliche like this, and he was pretty sure he
wasn't responsible for the note.
After a few moment's thought, Erin stood up, grabbed the handle
of the top drawer of the file cabinet and pulled, revealing a staircase that
lead downward. Making sure the door to the office was locked, he
descended the steps. This required research.
---
TO BE CONTINUED...