by Dana Night

Rated: G (Oh, come on, Sailor Moon has more blood than this!)

Summary: Dana gets a few warnings from her favorite Marvel mutants

Disclaimer: They're not mine. I make no cash. There's a little self-praise in this, be warned, but mostly, it's just the opposite. I'm sorry.

The moonlight fell in silver pools across the obsidian pavement in between the sickly orange lights of the street lamps, which obliterated the view of the finer points of stars in the velvety, midnight sky. The glow of the Air Force Base on the southern horizon was blocked by the rows of new, manufactured housing, but the smudge of the nearest thing that even ran for consideration of a city lay straight ahead on the eastern. As the girl neared the end of the private drive, the bright, blazing lights of the minimum security prison came into view, and she wondered yet again just how isolated one really *wanted* their home in this area. Dragging the front wheels of her right roller blade, she began a graceful turn to go back, but a pebble stood as an obstacle in the dim lighting, and she stumbled, but quickly caught herself. Cursing under her breath and hoping that it was late enough for none of her neighbors to have seen this, she ran her long, slender fingers through her short dark hair, cursing again when a jagged fingernail snagged a lock, and she had to tear the nail off to release it. Gazing at her chipped nails, she told herself for the hundredth time in the past week that she really should redo her nails. The cheap red nail polish was flecking off before her eyes.

Shrugging it off, she turned up her Walkman, bobbing her head to the tune of David Bowie's 'Rebel, Rebel,' and glanced behind her, checking to make sure none of her neighbors were returning home from some late night event and were about to run her over. None were. Picking up speed, she neared her house once more, and prepared to turn again when a lone figure stepped from the enshrouding shadows, head tilted to one side, hands jammed into pockets of faded cutoffs, piercing blue eyes gazing at her. Her eyes wide, the blader didn't even see the patch of uneven pavement until her face was buried in it, hands bleeding from the impact of the fall, and her favorite khaki cords torn at the knee.

"She all right?" came a gruff voice from the shadows, and the sound of footsteps on pavement could be heard, but they paused.

"She's fine." The slender visitor crouched beside the blader, peering at her in the half darkness. "Hello, Dana," she said mockingly.

"How do you know me?" Dana demanded, fear catching in her throat, making her cough as she attempted to heave herself to her feet, but slipped as the wheels on her blades refused to hold ground, and she fell again, skinning her knee.

"Why shouldn't we know you? You claim to know us."

"You.. You're.." Dana couldn't speak the name as she rolled to a sitting position, backing away on wounded hands from the phantom.

Grasping the dog tags that dangled from a BB chain at her neck, the visitor smirked and shoved them in her face. "Jubilation Lee," she cited the first line on the top tag. "I'm her, Dana, doll. That there.." She jerked her head to the shadows, where a well-built, short man waited. "That's Wolvie. Ya remember us, donchya, Dana?"

"I.." Blood was streaming warm down her leg, but she didn't care as she struggled to her feet once more, this time with more success. She swallowed, sensing trouble, and wondering how far she could get on blades before Wolvie caught her.

"Hey, we're not here ta hurchya, are we, Wolvie?" The shadowy man shook his head. "See, Dana, we just wanna little chat, ya know? You an' us, baby. C'mon. Let's go inside, shall we? Sit here an' take off them blades. We wouldn't wanchya slippin' down the steps, would we?" Grabbing her firmly by the arm, Jubilee guided Dana to the three white plastic lawn chairs that sat askelter on the clover-ridden, postage stamp lawn. With trembling fingers and fear in her blue-flecked eyes, Dana sat and began removing her blades. "Good girl. Now, take 'em an' let's go inside. What kinda Kool-Aid ya got?"

"Strawberry tea," Dana fairly choked as she complied, as if at gun-point.

"Great. Wolvie, c'mon. The *ahem* author has got goodies fer us."

From the shadows, the short, but very large man emerged, black hair slicked back, black tank top stretched taut across his massive chest. He flexed his hands as he followed them, over the fuchsia petunias that lined the whole south side of the house, up the slate-colored steps and into the house. Bright blue walls greeted them from every angle, and blue-winged angels sat atop strings of leafy garland in a tasteful border around the large great room. At the sight of the frightening visitors, two cats quickly fled, a streak of white and black each as they raced to the back of the house.

"There's, um, cookies on the coffee table." Dana motioned to a Ziplock bag full of chocolate chip and peanut butter cookies that lie open on the light colored table that was stacked with white coasters and various Thomas Kinkaid books. Moving into the kitchen, she removed three large blue cups from the cupboard to the right of the sink, and set them down on the breakfast bar, all in a row. Next, she went to the refrigerator and removed a full pitcher of dark pink Kool-Aid, and poured an ample amount into each cup before returning it. Tucking one into the crook of one arm and taking the other two in each hand, she stepped off the linoleum, her eyes questioning what to do next.

"Have a seat at the table," Jubilee ordered, coming from the living room, cookies in hand. Dana obeyed, sliding into the blue corner bench of the breakfast nook that served as the dining table. Wolverine sat on the bench to her left, as Jubilee pulled up a white plastic lawn chair to the right. "Cookie?" the mutant girl offered, but the ficwriter only shook her head in terror, handing out the drinks. "Okay then, let's get down to business."

"What have I done?" Dana asked, then bit her lip to keep it from trembling as she felt tears well up.

"It's more what ya haven't done," Wolverine spoke for the second time that night. "Come up with an original fanfic."

"We were real proud ta have ya on our team when ya first showed up," Jubilee elaborated, shoving a cookie in her mouth. "That one story, 'Questions,' was a work of pure genius. We thought, 'This girl can only get better.'"

"Then came 'Answers'." This from Logan.

"Right. An' it was.. okay. I suppose. But it didn' live up ta YOU, Dana, baby. Ya were puttin' our names on somethin' that, frankly, wasn't part a yer potential. But we saw the disclaimer an' thought, 'Hey, maybe she was influenced by Piper.' An' who can blame ya? I mean, a sequel to a story like that, where it jus' hangs.. It's almost irresistable. But with 'Answers,' the deed is done, there ain't much else ya can do. So ya move on, create somethin' even more brilliant than 'Questions,' right?"

"Wrong!" Logan slammed his fist on the table in anger, causing Kool-Aid to slosh over the sides of all three cups and create a small pink lake on the tabletop. "Next we get 'After the Storm.'"

"What the HELL was that?"

"I just.." Dana looked from one to the other, realizing she was trapped. "I just.."

"What were you thinkin', Dana, baby? That SO sucked! We had such hope. I mean, the beginning rocked. But.. Come third, fourth part, it was like.."

"Like ya gave up," Logan finished for her.

"I'm working on something," the writer protested. "Something new."

"With Nova?"

"Yes! Have you read *it*? You won't be disappointed."

"More Nova's doing than yours," Dana thought she heard Wolverine mutter.

"Yeah, we've read whachya got so far, an' we're relieved. But not to the point of impressed, Dana," Jubilee admitted. "But how many times have we seen the Jubilee-tries-ta-commit-suicide thing?"

"Dyce did it," Logan pointed out.

"Yeah, that was great! An' then Alexandria did it in 'Shards,' didn't she? Only that time, I really did commit suicide. Classic." The young Chinese-American tilted back in her chair, looking at the dusty white-and-gold ceiling fan, her eyes far off, as if reminiscing.

"An' then ya got the storyboard," reminded Wolvie.

"This was off the storyboard," the author reminded them.

"Yeah, an' since when do ya take somethin' offa the storyboard, Miss Night?" Jubilee snapped.

Dana dissolved into tears. "I.. I saw Nova.. And.. And I saw how.. how GOOD she is. And I.. I couldn't resist. I.. I saw the title. 'All Eyes On Me.' And.. And Nova's writing.. It was beautiful."

"So ya thought ya could use poor Nova ta boost yer name?"

Shamed, the author nodded.

"Dirty trick. Well, ya know what? We can get dirty, too."

From her left, Dana heard the wet sound of claws being released from their fleshy sheaths, and small spatters of blood hit her face. Immediately sobering, she snapped to attention just as three foot-long claws were shoved under her nose. The rancid smell of fresh blood filled her nostrils, and she backed away, hitting her head on the window, making the rose sun-catcher clack against the glass and spilling the ancient, worn devotional Bible to the floor from its position on the sill. Standing from her cheap, plastic chair, Jubilee stepped forward, getting into the other