This one is a bit odd. Subreality Cafe: Tithe By Elizabeth Celeste "I hate life. I'm tired of this. It's been what, like six months since we last got an issue? Madre de Dios, even the Tick had a more regular schedule." Ric was grousing. Complaining. Almost angsting even. "Yeah, well, I've been pregnant for over a year and a half. All you had ta do was deal with 'Star's driving." Tabitha had her own opinion on the Author's tendency to let her storytelling skills lapse. "Mah accent came back, an ah'm stuck here w' all you. And ah'm about ta become a daddy. A year an a half, and ah' still don know if it's a boy or girl." Sam chimed in his bit. This was quickly disintegrating into yet another "I hate the Author" bitch session. "I like Los Angeles. It is much like my homeworld. We could defeat the running dogs of Mojo, and allow me to regain my rightful place on the throne." As usual, Shatterstar understood the words, and not the language. "Or ye could shut up about Mojo already, an take up wi a healthier hooby. Like 'eroin, or crack er something" Teresa had lost patience with her teammates months ago. And she had some differences with the Author as well. Who drank Zima? Who? Just because the Author had the tastebuds of a seal didn't' mean that the poor characters should be sufferin. "Caliban would like to be not purple". "Guys, why don't we just go to the Cafe tonight. It's the Annual Ellis night." As always, Jimmy presented the semi-sensible solution. Being the only team member with the ability to preform normal social interaction had it's advantages. "Ellis Night? Is that some sort of immigrant celebration? Did I miss something in Asgard?" Dani had missed a lot in Asgard. Mostly modern convenience food- vegetarianism mixed quite poorly with Norse Mythology. But some times, she missed news of the world as well. "Ellis Night is when Warren Ellis holds court. All of the characters and teams who want to be written by him in the coming year arrive, place their gifts on the table, and give their request- issue, content, that kind of thing. It is considered a tremendous honor to be chosen." "What's the catch for us here? Ah saw what he did ta Kitty." "It was about time." A chorus of several voices chimed in. "It could happen to any of us" "Good!" "Are we doing it? Then we have to hurry- the standard tithe is easy enough, but what would be the perfect gift in this case? What can we give to win?" ---- The Subreality Cafe was busier than usual, especially for a Tuesday evening. The team was in a foul mood by the time of their arrival. Shatterstar had insisted on driving. As usual he got lost. And "True Warriors Never Ask for Directions". Not that there was really anyone to ask for directions when dimension hopping. The Bouncer glared at them. They were late, on one of the few occasions when timing mattered. They would be the last presented. Several members of the party were even burlier than the bouncer, and they all carried far too much weaponry. He did his best to divest some of the more lethal pieces form them, and allowed entry. One the plus side, they were the last people on the list for tonight. And not a one was blue. He'd bet two weeks Mary Sue duty to the bartender, on a Siku free night. There was a purple, a fuzzy spotted black, and a couple of beige pink types. But thankfully, not a sign of blueness. He might just win after all. The Bouncer let X-Force through the door, in a good enough mood to allow several spare pieces of plastic based weaponry through, seemingly unnoticed. The room was crowded and full of smoke, some of very dubious origin. Along with Ellis had arrived his entourage. And they were doing their best to provide the proper atmospheric conditions for their leader. The characters that were partial manifestations of the creature that was Warren Ellis, they were also in charge of tithe collection. Sitting in the middle of the vast blue gray cloud was the reason for tonight's pilgrimages. The chair was black leather, with a matched set of free standing ashtrays roughly the size of Cable's chest. The left arm of the chair had a enormous mug of a brown substance of even more dubious origin than the smoke. There were crystals growing down the sides. The right arm had a clear glass of a lighter brown, with little flecks floating through it. Contained within was Warren Ellis. An Author amongst authors. While an impressive scene, it was also a sight out of the nightmares of some of the X-People. Scott Summers, several Scott Summers, were off in the corner, hooking them selves up to oxygen masks. Several Jeans, all clad in the Marvel Girl costume were dripping off of certain Entourage members, looking like nothing more than a matched set of second rate street walkers. Every so often one would make a run for Ellis, only to be brushed aside with a jolt of electricity. X-Force laid their tithe upon the table. Two cases of beer- one of Guniess, one of Samuel Adams Cherry Wheat (Teresa had prevailed over Shatterstar, the closet Zima drinker). Thirteen cartons of cigarettes, enough for Ellis to share with the Entourage. And three small gold painted wooden boxes. Sam had been chosen the one to make the request. "Sir, Ah and my team would like to request a boon. Would you, Could you write us an issue? X-Force is in need of a new image. We wish to return to the days when we scared the rest of the X-Teams half ta death. We wish to drink like fish, and take up smoking. We wish ta have you reinvigorate us. Please Ellis. You are our only hope." By the end of his speech, he was down upon one knee, in the proper position for a medieval supplicant. The Great One looked at them quizzically, in their matched yellow and purples, then spoke, " You have brought me the standard tithe. However, so have all of these others." He raised an arm, using the glowing red cherry of his cigarette as a pointer, and highlighted the groups clustered around the smoky room. Alpha Flight, a feral wounded X-Factor, several Nate Grey's in blue leather, three sets of Generation X headmasters, and one set of the children. A group of Excalibur members all wearing "WE LOVE WARREN" T-shirts. The competition was heavy this year. "What makes X-Force more special than a Gambit, or a Summers, or the others who have brought gifts of great worth?". Upon hearing their name, the Summers huddled even closer together, trying to hide their many red heads. Gambit stood defiant, as if the newly minted burn mark on his forehead were other than a mark of great shame. Perhaps he realized that the scar would be his only gift from the mighty hands of Ellis. "Open the yellow boxes Sir" Three of the black suited minions, a brown haired man with out shoes, a blond girl, and the Prince of Darkness each took a box. After inspecting them for explosives, they passed them to Ellis. Ellis took on a rare expression. One of shock. Of joy. A few minutes of whispered conversation ensued, as the audience tried to guess the value of the gift. Than the Great One made his decision. "X-Force, this is more than adequate. I grant you my boon. You shall have four issues.". "Thank you my liege. Do with us what you will" ---- With the spell broken and speculation rampant, the Bartender prepared for the rush. This was to be an evening of heavy drinking at the Cafe. Very heavy drinking. The Zima was the first to go. Never let it be said that the Summers had taste in their liquor. He headed back into the storage room, to see if there was another case of the revolting swill. Bottom cabinet, third aisle down. He reached in, expecting only a collection of clear ridged bottles. Instead he found a basket. A basket with a small squealing, slightly dirty baby. A baby that was unmistakably an incarnation of Sikudhani McCoy. His usually expressionless face cracked a smile, and he picked up the basket, whistling a jaunty tune as he left the store room. Warren Ellis may have gotten his television on auto-cannibalism this night, but he had two Mary Sue free weeks. A gift unpurchasable, by even the best of tithes. ------- Ok. Disclaimer time. X-Force belongs to Marvel Comics. This version are the inhabitants of the X-Writers Universe. The Bartender and Bouncer are the property of whomever set this up to begin with. Warren Ellis presumably belongs to himself. Jack Hawksmoor, and Jenny Sparks are the property of Warren Ellis or Image Comics. Damion Hellstorm and Pete Wisdom belong to Marvel. The Streetwalker Jean is an Ellis creation- go read _Ruins_. Siku, who made her obligatory appearance, belongs to Darqstar. I think that sums it up. Oh, and thanks to Ian Foster for inventing the Mary Sue. :) Elizabeth, feel free to archive, but do drop me a line saying you're doing it. jubilee@grove.ufl.edu Elizabeth Celeste etwitche@helios.acomp.usf.edu ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ "You really can't go home again. But it seems you can shop there" Martin Blank in the Ultimart -Grosse Pointe Blank-