The slippers scurried, as only bunny slippers can, through a forest of legs, until they regrouped under a booth at the far end of the cafe. The booth was occupied, though the legs of the occupants didn't quite touch the floor. Long fuzzy ears perked up at the conversation taking place above...
"What're we doin' here. I wanna go get more candy."
"Chill out Cartman. We have to wait til a Writer decides to use us in another fic." replied another young voice.
"Yeah... you just want to stuff your fat face some more anyway."
"Ah'm not fat! Ah'm big-boned!"
"Mmmrrrrppphhh."
"Yeah, right Kenny, he wishes."
Laughter echoed above. One bunny slipper looked at the other. Fangs glinted in the dim light.
"Screw you guys," Cartman went on, "Ah'm gonna get more candy!"
The booth shifted considerably as a fat kid dressed only in a speedo bathing suit and a pair of rubber boots jumped down to the floor and walked into the crowd carrying a sack with a jack'o'lantern on it.
"Hey, Stan, I thought nothing could move the Blob?"
"Nothing but more candy, Kyle."
"Think he'll get any?"
"Mmmmrrrrrpppphhhh."
"Aw, you're sick, Kenny!"
"Hey Kyle, that's a kick-ass `Gambit' Costume."
"Thanks, dude. Who're you suppose to be?"
"I'm Cyclops. Wendy was supposed to dress up as `Phoenix', but she decided to go as Psylocke at the last second."
"Kewl. Psylocke kicks ass. Who're you supposed to be, Kenny?"
"Mmnnnn, mrrrrrppphhh."
"Angel? Sweet. Nice wings."
"Mmmrrrrffff."
"No way dude, Wendy's with me!"
With more laughter, Stan and Kyle hopped out of the booth and looked for Cartman. Kenny lingered in the seat to finish his vanilla shake..
"Where do you think he went?"
"Beats me dude."
"What do you think, Kenny?"
"Hsssst."
"Huh? Kenny?"
Stan and Kyle looked around, but Kenny was nowhere to be found. In the din of the cafe, neither of them heard the sounds of violence coming from under the booth.
"So what brings you to the cafe?" Blink asked.
Abyss pushed aside his empty beer bottle.
"The usual, just looking for a place to hang out between adventures. Maybe catch up on the latest Subreality gossip... speaking of which... who exactly is this TIC character anyways?"
A deathly hush fell over the Cafe.
"Was it something I said?"
"Okay mac, time to go." Again, he hadn't seen the Bouncer approach, but he was very aware of him now.
"Is this really necessary? I was just curious about who this TIC person was and..."
"You're leaving."
"Ummm, that's not a real Arquillan Arm Cannon, is it?"
"It is indeed."
"Okay, I'll go peacefully. Ladies and gentlemen, (and cat), it's been a pleasure."
He might've said more, but the Cannon started humming and the Bouncer looked annoyed, so he made his way towards the entrance, now a revolving door. Just before the exit, he turned back and whistled once, then walked out under the Bouncer's watchful eye. The door kept revolving a few more times after he exited.
Abyss turned back to the Bouncer, discreetly lifting each foot to let the bunny slippers slide back into place. One of them had what might have been a chicken feather dangling from its mouth.
"Well, I had a lovely time. I would like to come back. If I manage to avoid offending anyone or asking about TIC...?"
The Bouncer casually leaned back against a poster nailed to the wall near his nook.
"Oh, you can come back. In fact, we're having a special night on Wednesday. Why don't you come by then. Invite only tho' so don't bring the others."
"Great. I look forward to it. See ya, Bouncy."
The Arm Cannon started humming again, but Abyss had already moved off down the road.
The Bouncer waited a moment, then moved away from the poster.
A moment later, three kids came running running out. There was a fat kid wearing a speedo bathing suit and rubber boots, a kid in a Cyclops costume, basically a blue turtleneck and ski-hat with a visor made of some old 3D goggles, and a kid in a trenchcoat trailing cards from every pocket. The Cyclops' kid was carrying what's left of a homemade `wing', a hanger with chicken feathers stuck on.
The Bouncer looked at the kids, addressing the one in the `Blob' outfit.
"Cartman, what the hell are you doing, running around like that?"
"Ah'm the Blob! Gimme candy!"
"Hey, dude," Kyle broke in, "did you just see two sentient bunny slippers come through here?"
"Yeah, they just left with their owner.
Kyle, Stan, what's going on?"
Stan, the one in the Cyclops outfit, held up the wing', shaking his fist at the figure of Abyss moving of into the distance.
"THEY KILLED KENNY!"
"YOU BASTARDS!!!" Kyle/Gambit chimed in.
Arthur Kastanek, government agent currently on loan to an independent investigation in Subreality, regarded Wisdom and Lebeau across his desk.
"Are you telling me Abyss killed this `Kenny' fictive?"
"Not exactly. Apparently the bunnies did."
"The bunnies."
"Oui."
"Two fuzzy bunny slippers killed a fictive."
"Yep. Ate him."
"Ate him."
"Right up. Barely enough left ta fill a beer mug."
"I see... would his friends be out for revenge?"
"Doubtful. The fictive in question, Kenny, is some kind of spontaneous ressurective... little bugger dies on a weekly basis and reappears shortly after. Gruesome stuff."
"So he isn't a suspect."
"Not so's far as we can tell. You want maybe we should question him when he reappears?"
"I don't think so... what happened the next time Abyss visited the cafe?"
"Well, boss, we're havin' a spot o' trouble sorting that out..."
"Y'see boss, it was de first Wednesday of the month..."
Kastanek rested his head in his hands.
"Oh, hell." Steeling himself, he stood up and pulled on his jacket, then stowed a small automatic pistol in a shoulder holster.
"Aw'right. I'll look into this. You two keep looking for leads around the Cafe."
"You sure ya don't want back-up on this, boss?"
"I once shot Wolverine in the head, Wisdom. I'm all the backup I need."
Some time later, Kastanek found himself in a dirty alley on the very edge of Subreality.
Just dimly, he could hear music from somewhere.
Halfway down the alley he came to a metal door.
Knocking with his hand only produced a muffled sound, so he drew his pistol and hammered on the viewslit with the butt. After a moment, the slit was pushed open from the inside.
"Yeah, what?"
"Special agent Kastanek, acting on authority from the Scribe Herself. Open up."
The view slit slid shut. Kastanek waited expectantly for several minutes. When it became apparent the door was not being open, he drew his pistol and knocked again. Once again, the set of eyes appeared at the screen.
"Yeah, what?"
"Armor piercing bullets. Open up or I shoot you though the door."
The screen slid shut and the sounds of a lock being pulled echoed in the alley. The door opened slowly, and Arthur walked into the Villains Cafe.
About twenty minute later he emerged. His gun was empty, his clothes shredded, at least two ribs were broken, but he had the information he needed. He knew about Abyss' second trip to the Subreality Cafe, and what he knew, wasn't pretty.
Really, Abyss should have realized something wasn't right as soon as he round the corner and saw the Cafe. For one thing, there was a large dark cloud hovering directly over the roof. For another, the entire place just seemed to be... dismal. Still, he had nothing better to do, and he was here by invitation after all. He had even left the bunnies behind. They had been most upset about it, but he didn't want to risk the Bouncer's wrath at this early point. Seeing him approach, the Bouncer moved out of his nook and stood in front of a large sign, obstructing all the words except
Welcome...'.
"Hey, Bouncy, wussup?"
"You again."
"Yep, here as promised."
"Well, just go right on in then.
"Thanx."
He moved through the door, today a large mahogany affair that slammed shut ominously behind him. Grinning to himself, the Bouncer moved away from the poster that could now be clearly read;
`Welcome Bad Guys...
Villains Night,
Dollar shooters all night!'
The first thing that struck Abyss when he walked in the door was the complete lack of anyone he recognized from his last trip to the cafe. The second thing that struck him was a large blue fist.
When his vision cleared, he looked up into a dark grey face with metallic lips that ran all the way up the side of the head. Abyss sighed. "Oh, man, Poccy, was that really necessary?"
"CONSIDER IT BUT A TASTE OF THE TORMENT TO COME, LITTLE ABYSS. HERE, YOUR WRITER CANNOT PROTECT YOU. HERE, MIGHTY BOB HAS NO KNOWLEDGE OF WHAT TRANSPIRES. HERE..."
"...I can't buy a decent aspirin for this headache you're giving me. Stop shouting already."
"It would seem to me, Abyss, that a headache will be the least of your problems very shortly." A dry, cultured voice spoke from nearby.
"Indeed, just retaining your head will be a feat." Said the same voice from the other side.
"Sinny! Are you here too? Two of you..."
"Six, actually..."
"What a treat! All I'm missing now is..."
"You'll be missing several internalorgans veryshortly, fool, if the Sugarmanhas his way."
"Oh, look, it's Mister Potato-Head's evil twin. My day is complete, the gangrene's all here."
"Ohthat'sit! Hedies... rightnow..."
"No, let me experiment on him first!"
"No, let me!"
"No, me!"
"IMPUDENT SPECKS, HE IS MINE!"
"Oh, biteme you overgrownhoovervacuum..."
"You couldn't experiment with a spirograph!"
"I'll have you know I taught at Harvard!"
"You taught English Lit!"
"I experimented on Chamber!"
"A chamber-pot, maybe..."
"SILENCE, ALL OF YOU..."
"Silencethis, metallips..."
"To me, my Marauders!"
"No, to me, my Marauders
"No, no, me, you serve me!"
"Nasty Boys, attack!"
"YOU ARE ALL GOING TO DIE!"
"Thassit, I'm bitinghis kneecapsoff."
"OUCH! YOU LITTLE...!"
"Who dares give Sinister a wedgie?"
Meanwhile, outside the cafe, a slightly tattered figure slid out the door and collapsed on the steps. The Bouncer glanced down.
"I see you made it out in one piece."
Abyss wiped some shattered glass off his shoulder and gave the Bouncer a dirty look. "Barely. You knew this was going to happen, didn't you?"
"Me? I just watch the door."
"Yeah. Right. Har. Dee. Har. Har.
Have fun with the clean-up."
"What are you talking about...?"
at that moment two Sinisters came crashing through a window, trying to strangle each other with shreds of cape. The sounds of the mother of all bar-brawls emerged from the cafe. The Bouncer turned and ran inside.
Abyss stood up and dusted himself off.
"This was the most fun I've had since we painted the insides of all the Cykes visors black..."
Humming to himself, Abyss wandered off in the Subreality sunset.
Kastanek winced as he shifted in his seat and his ribs reminded him they were less than happy. Wisdom and Lebeau stood on the other side of the desk, smoking, to Arthur's considerable annoyance.
"Well, it wasn't any of the villains."
"How can you be sure of that, mate?"
"Simple. Every time one of them thinks of going after Abyss, six others swear he's theirs and start a fight. When I told them he was dead it touched off a riot."
"Well, dat shorten's de list of suspects some."
"Yes. What else did you find out?"
"It seems this Abyss bloke made one last trip to the Cafe. We're on our way there now to talk to the Bouncer about what happened."
Abyss, avatar of Abyss, had decided to drop by the Subreality cafe for a drink. The first step, however, was to make sure this wouldn't be a repeat of his last visit.
Stopping outside the Subreality Pay phone, he dug a quarter out of his pocket.
"Kkkrkt"
Abyss glanced down at his left bunny-slipper.
"Oh, sure, Nudge. Get me some gum while you're at it."
He lifted his left foot and the bunny-slipper slid off and into a nearby store.
Abyss dialled a number and placed the sleeve of his jacket over the receiver...
At the Subreality Cafe, the phone rang behind the bar. The bartender served off a round of drinks and grabbed up the phone.
"Subreality Cafe, can I help you?"
The voice on the other end was muffled
"Yes, can you tell me if tonight is Villains Night?"
"Nope, that's not for another two weeks."
"Excellent... listen I'm looking for a friend of mine, I think she's there, can you check for me?"
"Sure. Is she a regular?"
"No, this is her first time... new character, she's the daughter of two pretty established fictives..."
"Oh, well, what's her name then...?" He listened as the voice on the line told him, then turned and shouted to be heard over the music and conversation in the cafe.
"Mhairie Ash! I'm looking for Mhairie Ash! Has anyone here seen Mhairie Ash?"
"Bloody oath mate, who'd want ta?" said a Pete Wisdom fictive.
The bartender looked at him for a moment, realization slowly dawning as his face turned the most interesting shade of red... by the time he picked up the phone again there was a great deal of laughter about the bar.
"Listen you little creep, if I find out who you are, I'm gonna turn you inside out and jump on your guts `til your own Writer wouldn't recognize you!" He stopped as he realized the line was dead. Fuming, he went back to serving drinks.
Abyss hung up the phone and stepped out of the booth. He looked around for a moment, until the absent bunny slipper came crawling along. It had a pack of Extra-spearmint under one ear and a forty-dollar hand rolled Cuban cigar in it's mouth. It slid back onto Abyss' foot, puffing away contentedly.
"Everyone set?"
"Skkkt"
"Chkkt"
"Then let's go."
They arrived shortly at the Subreality cafe. The Bouncer was in his usual spot, next to the door which was a simple tinted glass and metal arrangement this evening.
"Just a sec, bub. We have a no pets' rule."
"That's new."
"We had Animal Fictive night last week. Never again. We're still digging hairballs out of the pipes."
Abyss looked around wonderingly.
"How fortunate I left Tweety and Sylvester at home then."
"You know what I mean, Abyss. Those," he gestured at the slippers, which were apparently inanimate although the left one had a cigar stub in it's mouth, "stay outside."
"Last time I left them behind I got beaten to a pulp by your clientele."
"I have no idea what you're talking about.
The slippers stay."
"Fine, fine, but if I meet a telepathic cat in there, I'm having a chat with the Manager about discrimination against sentient fashion accessories."
"Yeah, yeah, whatever..."
Once inside, Abyss found himself at the bar next to a very large guy with a hammer stuck in his belt. Waving to the Bartender, who ignored him, Abyss turned to his neighbour.
"Hey, didn't you almost kill me with a beer mug once?"
"Excuse me?"
"Nevermind. You look familiar, have we met?"
"Could be. All I do is sit around here drinking these days." He sighed heavily and took a swig from his beer, a mug the size of a small barrel.
"Writer on a break?" Abyss asked sympathetically.
"Yep." Another swig.
"I'm Abyss."
"Tolken. People call me Syphon."
"The way you're slugging it back, I'm surprised they don't call you Beer Bong."
"Hey, you started without me, you drunken sot!" a woman's voice broke in.
Tolken didn't even glance up as he spoke. "Hey Jessica. Wussup?"
Abyss looked at the new arrival. She was tall, had white hair hanging out from under a valkyrie-style helmet, and was dressed all in leather.
"Wussup is your ass on the roof if you're too far ahead of me, Tolken."
Still staring at his beer, Tolken absently gestured at the new comer.
"Abysh, meet Jessica Pierce."
She took his hand in a strong grip.
"Pierce? Any relation to a guy who calls himself Manchild'."
"No."
"Pierce... hey, aren't you `Kid Dynamo'?
I loved that fic!"
"Yeah, yeah, keep it down..."
"Waitasec... you were Magneto's daughter, right?"
"Yes..."
"And you had magnetic powers?"
"Sort of, yes, why...?"
"And you changed your name to Pierce' to hide your true identity?"
"Umm... yes..."
"And you're sure you're not related to Manchild?"
"Well... yes."
"Oh. Okay, just wondering. You here to drink with the big guy?"
"Oh shure!" Tolken actually looked up from his beer to speak this time, "Ish not like we got anyshing elsh ta do!"
Jessica rolled her eyes.
"Excuse him. He gets like this once in a while..."
"Yer damn right I do! I wash somebody, I wush..."
Jessica gestured and Syphon floated up off his chair, along with his beer. His face turned an interesting shade of green and he covered his mouth with both hands and closed his eyes.
She turned to Abyss.
"Nice meeting you."
"Will he be okay?"
"Oh sure, he's just having trouble accepting that his Writer took a break. You get used to it after a while."
"Well for the record, it was nice meeting you."
"Oh shure, evybody'sh thrilled ta meet her... waddabout me?" Tolken reclaimed his beer from mid-air and went back to drinking. Jessica walked off with him in telekinetic tow.
Abyss finally succeeded in getting the Bartender's attention.
"You again."
"Yep. Got any `Two Dogs'?"
"In the back, but I can't get it right now..."
"That's okay, I'll get it."
"Yeah, like I'm gonna let you in a room full of booze!"
"Hey, I'll be in and out like a Genoshan magistrate on Gam..."
"Okay, fine, go, just don't finish that sentence."
"No worries."
The Bouncer leaned back against the wall and shivered, as if at an unpleasant memory.
Lebeau waited.
"So he walked in, and a little while later we found him... well... dead."
"Dat's a pretty simple way of describin` findin` a fictive in a back room, strung up by de toes wit his head in a barrel of Guinness."
"I can think of worse ways to go... it could have been American beer."
"C'est vrai, but still... any idea who'd want him dead?"
"From what I've heard, the list is long, but prestigious." The Bouncer shrugged, "Look, the next Dead Fictive Night isn't for weeks, and as far as I know, he wasn't killed by a Writer, so he ain't coming back unless his Writer resurrects him. I ain't happy about this, but unless people start dropping like flies around here again, I ain't gonna worry."
"You jus' a bit too comfortable wit' dis, mon ami."
"You suggesting something, Lebeau?" he asked, his tone dangerous.
Remy Lebeau, P.I., laughed.
"Mais non, mon ami. You are de most uncorrupt fictive in Subreality. S'why we love you so much. Anything else you think I need to know?"
"Nope. Nothing comes to mind."
"Bien... I jus' can't lose the feeling like I'm missing something... ah, here's Pete."
Pete Wisdom, P.I., walked out of the Cafe and lit up a smoke.
"Any luck, mate?"
"Rien. Another dead end, pardon de pun.
Et toi?"
"Not a whole helluva lot. Suppose we should go talk to the boss."
"Merde." Remy said.
The office was hardly what you'd call pleasant. One desk, two chairs. Functional, plain, deceptively ordinary... just like the man who now sat behind the desk listening to the two P.I.'s finish their report.
"...so dat's what we know so far."
"It's not enough. There has to be more to it, something we're missing." Kastanek turned to Wisdom, "No one inside saw anything?"
"Naaahh... three annoying brats running around screaming `They Killed Kenny', and a drunk Colossus claiming he saw Elvis was all."
"That's not good enough. I want you guys to turn the pressure up."
"How far do you want us to go, boss?"
"I once shot Wolverine in the head, Wisdom. How far do you think I want you to go?"
"So it's carte blanche den'?"
"Look you two. The Powers That Be sent me down here to find out what exactly happened to Abyss before his Writer gets back from vacation. I recruited you two because you're supposed to know your way around Subreality. If you're as good as you say you are, then maybe, just maybe, you can do your jobs without having to ask me just what it is you're supposed to do. People who shot Wolverine in the head should not have to put up with this $#!%!" His fingers drummed nervously on a copy of Great Canadian Hunting' magazine.
"Aw'right, aw'right, don't git yer boxers in a bunch, we're on it." Wisdom replied.
He sat there, hands folded on his desk, unmoving as the P.I.'s walked out. Outwardly serene, in his mind he played over and over again the MOMENT. The feel of the gun in his hand, the spray of brain matter... his Writer had given him one of the greatest moments in his existence... and then sent him here to deal with these... dicks. Men Who Shot Wolverine in the Head shouldn't have to put up with this. He sighed and picked up the phone. He didn't have to dial. The line rang only once.
"Yes, Arthur?" The voice at the other end echoed slightly in the room.
"Ma'am, it seems that the crime in question was considerably more complicated than we thought."
"Explain yourself, Kastanek."
"Yes, ma'am. It seems that there is a distinct lack of evidence as to who the perpetrator might be."
There was silence on the other end. He could hear voices in discussion, but not clearly.
"Arthur, this is serious. If Abyss the Writer returns from vacation and finds his avatar dead, there's no telling what might happen."
"I understand ma'am, but with all the lines of investigation to follow my resources are stretched pretty thin."
Silence again. Then the voice returned.
"Arthur, I've spoken to one of my associates, and she's agreed to send two of her fictives to assist you. You're to direct them in finding out exactly what happened to Abyss."
"Yes ma'am. Will there be anything else?"
"No Arthur. Just get the job done."
He was on the verge of telling her that men who shot Wolverine in the head ALWAYS got the job done, but restrained himself. One didn't brag to the Scribe that way, especially not when one's Writer was nearby.
"Yes ma'am." and he hung up the phone. a moment later there was a knock on the door.
"It's open." he called. The knob turned and they walked in.
"Agent Kastanek? I'm Agent Mulder and this is Agent Scully... we're here about a deceased fictive."
CONCLUDED IN PART 3