The Archive

He picked it up gingerly and glanced at the title and then sighed with relief. "Well this one seems okay." He flipped through it tentatively. "Yes, this is definately an official one."

The man next to him peered over his shoulder and then glared. "How did you first notice the problem?"

"Well it was the comedy box really. You see, the comedy archive had been empty...I mean always empty. You guys in the plot office don't have much of a sense of humor. And then all of a sudden there were all these funny scripts. I thought maybe it was something new with the change over and all. But when I got this one I started to get suspicious."

The greasy man handed him a thick stack of white papers.

"Em-Hairy? Is that how you say this? Em-Hair? Ma-Hairy? What is this, a comedy or a drama?"

The little man shrugged. "I think it's a satire."

The taller man flipped through the manuscript and then his eyes grew wide. Quickly he rolled it up and stuffed it into his pocket. "I think I'd better take this one upstairs for further examination."

The little man giggled slightly. "I was pretty sure you guys wouldn't be spoofing your own stuff so I thought I'd better call you down."

There was a whirling sound and another pile of papers fell through the air and land on the desk. He picked up the new arrival and then distastefully passed it off.

"It's another one of *those* stories! I call them the 'Lame-Os.' They don't have any super-mutants, or guns or violence, or even scantily clad babes. I *know* those didn't come out of your office!"

The glaring man squinted at the title and then flipped through the manuscript. "Ack! Extensional crap!" He tossed the story over his shoulder carelessly.

"Well where the hell is the stuff coming from? Who's writing it, and more importantly how is it making it to our archive?"

"I don't know, sir. But I don't even think that's the main problem...."

"Well?" He glared at the little man who seemed to shrink under the glowering stare.

"Uh, well, the main problem is I don't know how long these other stories have been archived and you see, well, we fear that some of them may have become part of the stories when your writers looked up old issues for history or loose plot lines."

"Mother of God!" The man took a feeble step backward and visably paled. "How bad would this be?"

"Uh..." Instead of replying the little man handed a stack of manuscripts to him.

His eyes widened and he started to shake. "Oh God! This is a disaster! Look at all the damn kids! Look at all the blue kids!"

"Uh, actually I think it's just one blue kid. It's just that she's everywhere."

Just then a head popped into the doorway. "Oh there you are Bob! Geesh, I've been looking all over for you. You wanted to see me?"

Bob spun around, pointing an accusatory finger in the new arrival's face. "Lobdell, you haven't written any stories with McCoy and a kid, have you?"

"McCoy? Which writer is that? I don't think I've ever worked with someone named McCoy..."

Bob grabbed Lobdell by the shirt fronts. "He's not a writer shithead! He's a character. Beast, you idiot! Beast! Did you write any plots with Beast having a damn, blue, furry kid?!?"

Lobdell was taken aback by the fury of Bob's assault. He shrugged uncertainly. "Uh gee, I don't think so boss. Why?"

Bob let go of Scott's shirt front and stepped back, sighing with relief. "Thank God!" He was perspiring heavily and he was still shaking.

Lobdell looked from Bob to the little man and back. "What's goin' on?"

Suddenly Bob's eyes widened and he started pawing frantically through the pile of manuscripts he held. "Slugman...Slugman," he whispered feverishly.

"Slugman?" asked Lobdell and the little man in unison.

"Yeah, Slugman. If he was a character from one of these scripts then we're in deep shit..."

"Hey! Slugman was my idea!" Ben Raab popped his head in the doorway.

"That explains it," muttered Bob dryly.

"You know boss, some of these are pretty good." Lobdell picked up a nearby stack and started thumbing threw them. "There's this one where the mansion gets overrun with all these vampires...and Creed marries a vampire or something and moves in with Logan and the gang..."

"Vampires?!? Are you nuts?!? Give me those!" Bob ripped the scripts from Lobdell's hands. "Vampires," he muttered in disgust.

Lobdell shrugged. "Yeah, well there's some good ideas for how to bring people back, like Blink and Illyana and Dawn.."

Bob blinked. "Dawn? Who the hell is Dawn? She's not one of our's is she?"

Lobdell and Raab exchanged confused glances. "Uh, well beats me. I just sort of assumed she was."

"Don't you know? Christ! Don't you pay any attention to what you're writing?"

Lobdell and Raab shrugged. "Uh, not really. When we're a little dry we come down here and paw through the archive. It's quite possible there's been some confusion due to this mistake with the scripts."

Lobdell added, under his breath, "It's not like you could tell the difference anyway."

Bob stood there staring at them for a full minute. Finally with a shake of his head he snapped, "You two are idiots. Couldn't you tell that these scripts weren't from our office?"

"Well boss, like I said, some of 'em are pretty good. I mean take this one with Emma Frost and Robert Drake...they really do make a cute couple."

"Oh yeah? Well look at this one...it completely ignores past continuity! It rewrites X history with no regard for the years of hard work it took to get the characters to this point!"

"Uh, boss? That one came from our office."

"Oh Christ." Bob rubbed his head tiredly. "Well what the hell are we going to do. It's impossible to tell which stories have been integrated and which haven't..."

"Well I guess maybe most of the retcons can be blamed on the mix-up, right?"

Bob nodded tiredly. "Yeah, those aren't all fault." There was a lull and then all four men looked up, their wide-eyed gazes locking as realization dawned.

"Madelyne!" They all shouted.

Bob slapped his forehead. "Shit! I wondered how the hell she got back," muttered Bob angrily. "Quick, we got to find the script with her in it."

He grabbed a stack of a papers and thrust it at Lobdell. Just then there was a whirling noise and a new stack came flying through the air, landing with a thud on the desk.

This time Lobdell grabed it first. He glanced at the title and then passed it off with a shrug.

**Days elapse by with more psychological experiences. They are both painful and pleasant for Drew...**

Bob tossed it aside with a sigh of disgust. "Yeah, sounds like your handiwork Raab."

Raab grined widely and shook his head. "Ain't mine boss. It's one of the others."

The little man picked the story up and glanced at the first page. "Hmm...both painful and pleasant, eh?" He tucked the story serupticiously into his back pocket and then turned back to the stack of scripts on the floor.

"So, what are we suppose to do?"

Bob surveyed the room for a minute and then finally shruged resignedly. "Hell, some of these are pretty good. And the bad ways ain't any worse than some of the stuff we put out. Might as well keep 'em." He surveyed the room again and then smiled. "Yeah, at least we get some free ideas, right?" He smiled even more broadly. "Carry on, carry on." With a curt wave he beckoned Lobdell and Raab to follow him out of the room.