Hello all, it's me, Victoria; I joined the list a while back and fired off a short intro (not really a fic per se), and this is my "official" intro fic. Feedback appreciated, flames -- everyone here is too intelligent for flames.

"Uh-huh," she said, bursting a paricularly large bubble in the process. "Do I get in or what?"

The Bouncer sighed. "You got friends in here?"

"Yeah, couple Melody Powers...why?"

After giving her a slightly strange look (and sparing a glance for the vorpal blade that rested in the palm of her right hand), the Bouncer unhooked the velvet rope and let the girl pass.

Victoria rolled her eyes at some of the looks certain Cajun fictives were giving her -- yeah, she had a knife, so what? actually, place like this, they should have a weapons check -- then spared a glance for her own outfit.

"Damn! And here I was looking like they were crazy!" She pulled out a notepad and hurriedly scribbled something...well, rather illegible, truth be told.

However, it appeared that whatever deities governed Writer's powers in Subreality also had years of practice studying hard-to-read handwriting. In an instant, her AMA(2) gear was stashed in that Universal Closet where clothes go when they're changed quickly -- or maybe that's the Universal Floor -- and she was back in her normal attire: jeans, and any one of a dozen t-shirts that her grandmother hated. This one read "If I throw a stick will you go away?"(3) She did, however, keep the Martens and knife.

Making her way through the crowded room to the bar, she saw one of her Melodys with a pint and an obviously lagered Gambit, staggering together towards the backroom. Shaking away an unpleasant mental image, she proceeded on her merry way.

"I'll have three halves of a pint, please,"(4) she told Major Mapleleaf, the erstwhile bartender. He gave her a questioning look. Victoria raised an eyebrow imperiously, and he got the hint. Exactly 0.0008 seconds later, three halves of a pint -- and no more, no less -- were sitting in front of her. Idly she wondered if the respected Major had been a math major (no pun intended) in school, then set about to the serious business of drinking.

Unfortunately, just as she'd finished her third half, a passing Wolverine decided it would be fun to pinch the newbie in a very...well, let's just say it was one of those spots that you can't scratch in public unless you have a day companion.

It was a miscalculation of the highest order.

After the ensuing nasty mess -- this Logan had apparently been one of the "kinder, gentler Logan" breed -- Victoria found herself out on the street and no mistake.

Someone should have told him not to pinch a lady with a knife in her hand, she thought oddly. Oh, well, at least I'm not banned for all time, just today. The Major was quite nice 'bout that, actually. Now what, though? she thought quietly, flipping her knife end over end in a fashion that was sure to get her fingers cut off one of these days.

A police car raced by, the radio crackling so as to be heard even over the sirens, "Murder -- *bzzzzt* -- Shantytown East -- *bzzt* -- We have the suspect on the run near -- *bzzzzt* -- East Lone St."

A smile spread over Victoria's features as she headed to the morgue to watch the body being brought in.

Perhaps there's fun to be had after all...

Footnotes (denoted by () )
1. I don't have Martens; wish I did.
2. Acronym: American McGee's Alice -- her clothes are kicka$$
3. My friend actually has a shirt like that.
4. Don't ask...^*^*