Passing the Torch
AKA - Inherited Lunacy
Subreality Series - 1
by: SLWatson
Notes: If you're not familiar with the concept of Subreailty, then this may be entertaining but confusing. However, if you're just looking for a bunch of kind of off-kilter, goofy fics, then feel free to read. Most of these stories take place in a canon based on an RPG, wherein we mix about nine different universes with some amusing results. This is a taste of that insane universe.
Disclaimers: Mike Nelson belongs to BBI. Scott Summers belongs to Marvel (but they don't deserve him). Kielle came up with the concept of Subreailty. Check it out: http://www.subreality.com/sc.htm. We're in her debt for allowing us to play here.
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The leaves were changing, and the world was alive with color. Trees rustled as a breeze blew through, carrying with it bright pieces of color through the deep blue sky. The air had that scent... the smell of leaves now dead and of woodsmoke from some fire out of view. Laughter echoed through, but it was distant and not altogether unpleasant to listen to. Laughter in itself was not common here.
The sound was coming from the back yard, several hundred yards away. Out of all the people there, only one man understood the true nature of their existence, but he wouldn't be remaining behind for long. Too much had happened, and too much had changed, but he couldn't allow himself to start another life without at least training a replacement.
Scott Summers enjoyed the brief moment in the sunlight and leaves of autumn. Needless to say, the moment would be too short, but that was the way things were. He had made his decision, and there was no going back from here. Finally shaking himself from the enchantment of fall, he looked over to the man sitting against the trunk of an oak, watching the leaves fall with the same sort of rapt fascination that had held Scott only a moment ago.
There were a lot alike in some ways, and even more different in others. He smiled to himself, then picked up a small stick, chucking it at his companion.
Mike Nelson looked at him, tearing himself away from his daydreams. He was a dreamer; he couldn't help it. Naive, good-natured, and maybe a bit too easily distracted. Still, he had some idea of the truth. "What?" the blond farmboy smirked. "Can't I pay attention to something besides your angst-ridden lecturing?"
"Not when I'm going back to Alaska tomorrow," Scott replied, raising an eyebrow. "This is important."
"But it's my first fall back on Earth!" Mike whined, but he crossed his legs Indian-style and made an effort to pay attention.
Scott sighed. His attention span was that of a two-year-old's. Still... "Alright, let's try this again. There are infinite dimensions with infinite possibilities. We're in one of them..." The former Field Commander of the X-Men let his voice trail off when he saw Mike mimicking him with a decidedly bored look, "Do you mind?"
Mike grinned. "No at all."
"Well, I do. So stop." Scott scowled faintly. Most people worried when he got that look. Mike generally just grinned that damned insufferable grin, though, and there were a few occasions when Scott felt the urge to smack him upside the head. "Now this dimension we exist in is weird. All kinds of potential for paradoxes, destruction, and..." now it was Scott's turn to smirk, "Poofdom."
The mention of that word had the effect he wanted. Mike immediately stopped his comic relief and got a rather worried look. "Uhhhh... are you allowed to say that? Because... well..."
"Because it could destroy all of this," Scott finished for him, gesturing around. "Y'see, Poofdom is when one of the other people here learn the truth of our existence and why and when and how."
Mike edged away. "So why are you telling me?"
Scott tried not to let amusement show through his carefully composed features. "You're the only one that has a clue, and since I'm leaving, I have to make sure someone knows."
"I don't have a clue," Mike answered, a little hurriedly. That was only a half-truth, and both of them knew it.
"Bull. Now listen close... in this universe, there are people who basically control the flow. Not everything, because believe it or not, we have as much influence on them as they do on us, but most of the events are their devising."
Mike raised an eyebrow. "Like playing a video game?"
Scott shook his head. "Sort of, but a little more complicated. Let me try this another way... imagine that everyone here is a character in a novel, and there's someone writing out our lives. They throw in plot twists, new characters, whatever... but it's all written down."
This seemed to dawn on Mike. "Like the Neverending Story?" He was an avid reader, and that was one of his favorite books.
"A lot like that." Scott nodded. "Now we're all a part of this story, devised by our Writers. You and I have the same Writer."
Mike grinned slightly, pulling a wild card he had kept fairly secret until now. "Or Mun."
Scott blinked. He really wasn't as lost as he acted, was he? "Or Mun. Depending, I guess, on the situation... Since she wrote both you and I formally, either would work."
"So you basically yanked me away from the barbecue, threw a stick at me, and made me listen to you yack to tell me something I kinda already know?" Now Mike had taken on a somewhat smug aire.
"Well... yea," Scott said, resisting the urge to smack him again. "But you know that if you tell anyone, Poofdom occurs."
Mike went pale at the mention of that word. Poofdom was kind of complicated, and he only knew bits and pieces of the theory. Someone finds out they're nothing more than a character in a story, or an elaborate RPG, and they go *poof*. "Yea..." he shuddered. He didn't even want to think about Poofdom, let alone tell anyone about it.
Scott wasn't about to go into the fact that they're not even original characters, but characters stolen from TV or comic books. Not only was it a very touchy subject, but he highly doubted Mike would be able to take it. "Anyway, our Writer is insane. She's got a serious mental imbalance that forces her to mesh together as many universes as possible. The one we're in is the result of this lunacy."
Mike chuckled, "That explains you, now doesn't it?"
"Thanks," Scott sighed. "Now she's been my Writer for 7 years and counting, and Lord only knows how long she's going to keep you around. But as long as she does, you're going to have to be the voice of reason."
"Me?"
"Yes, you. Since one of the other Mun's went nuts, she feels it best to send me off to try out another life. That leaves you..."
Mike looked around with his patented "deer in the headlights" look. "Why not Remy, or one of them?"
"Remy can barely keep himself sane," Scott said, somewhat seriously. "She likes you, and that's why you have a shot at reasonably keeping her from losing her mind."
"But..."
"Don't worry, it's not as hard as you think. Just torment her over typos, throw out some ideas, basically keep her distracted from thinking too hard too quickly about real world problems." Scott was trying pretty hard to make this sound simple. In truth, it wasn't. His Writer had a lot of problems... the worst being her own mind. He had done his best to keep her from losing it, but now... now he had to leave. Still, Mike would do well in his stead. She adored the Wisconsin farmboy, and would go to some pretty extreme lengths to protect him from angst and pain. Scott hadn't been so lucky, but then, he was the first. She didn't know any better back then. Now that she did, someone else had finished him.
"But isn't it the first rule of a Character never to piss off the Writer?" Mike asked, a pretty simple question.
"Trust me, you can get away with it," Scott replied, grinning himself for the first time all afternoon. "I could, and I know you can."
Mike mulled this over, watching some leaves fly across the lawn. "Huh... so my job is to keep the Writer from losing her mind by driving her crazy with jokes about typos, misspellings, and plot holes?"
Scott nodded. He caught on quick when he felt like it.
"Okay, but the minute she starts tormenting back, I'm going to come after you and kick your butt to the moon," Mike finally agreed. He wasn't sure what he was getting into, but Scott was his friend despite their bickering, and it seemed pretty important to him.
Scott stood, offering a smile. "I guess that's fair," the smile faded into a smirk, "I dub thee Main Character, and may God have mercy on your soul." And with that, he walked away.
Mike watched him go, wondering if that statement should worry him. This was a relatively new concept to him, but not so weird he couldn't grasp it. Just like a sci-fi novel or a weird, psychological thriller. Turning his attention back to the leaves and the sunlight, he contemplated it for quite awhile, getting used to the idea by degrees. Main Character, eh? Maybe that's something that could come in handy. Very quietly, after glancing around to make sure no one could hear, he said, "So you're the Writer, I'm the Main Character. I don't suppose it's too much to ask for a nice long Indian summer?"
A cool breeze blew through, more of an edge on it than there had been all day.
Mike rolled his eyes, "Very funny," and stood up to walk back to the barbecue.
- --------- - --
AKA - Inherited Lunacy
Subreality Series - 1
by: SLWatson
Notes: If you're not familiar with the concept of Subreailty, then this may be entertaining but confusing. However, if you're just looking for a bunch of kind of off-kilter, goofy fics, then feel free to read. Most of these stories take place in a canon based on an RPG, wherein we mix about nine different universes with some amusing results. This is a taste of that insane universe.
Disclaimers: Mike Nelson belongs to BBI. Scott Summers belongs to Marvel (but they don't deserve him). Kielle came up with the concept of Subreailty. Check it out: http://www.subreality.com/sc.htm. We're in her debt for allowing us to play here.
- --------- - --
The leaves were changing, and the world was alive with color. Trees rustled as a breeze blew through, carrying with it bright pieces of color through the deep blue sky. The air had that scent... the smell of leaves now dead and of woodsmoke from some fire out of view. Laughter echoed through, but it was distant and not altogether unpleasant to listen to. Laughter in itself was not common here.
The sound was coming from the back yard, several hundred yards away. Out of all the people there, only one man understood the true nature of their existence, but he wouldn't be remaining behind for long. Too much had happened, and too much had changed, but he couldn't allow himself to start another life without at least training a replacement.
Scott Summers enjoyed the brief moment in the sunlight and leaves of autumn. Needless to say, the moment would be too short, but that was the way things were. He had made his decision, and there was no going back from here. Finally shaking himself from the enchantment of fall, he looked over to the man sitting against the trunk of an oak, watching the leaves fall with the same sort of rapt fascination that had held Scott only a moment ago.
There were a lot alike in some ways, and even more different in others. He smiled to himself, then picked up a small stick, chucking it at his companion.
Mike Nelson looked at him, tearing himself away from his daydreams. He was a dreamer; he couldn't help it. Naive, good-natured, and maybe a bit too easily distracted. Still, he had some idea of the truth. "What?" the blond farmboy smirked. "Can't I pay attention to something besides your angst-ridden lecturing?"
"Not when I'm going back to Alaska tomorrow," Scott replied, raising an eyebrow. "This is important."
"But it's my first fall back on Earth!" Mike whined, but he crossed his legs Indian-style and made an effort to pay attention.
Scott sighed. His attention span was that of a two-year-old's. Still... "Alright, let's try this again. There are infinite dimensions with infinite possibilities. We're in one of them..." The former Field Commander of the X-Men let his voice trail off when he saw Mike mimicking him with a decidedly bored look, "Do you mind?"
Mike grinned. "No at all."
"Well, I do. So stop." Scott scowled faintly. Most people worried when he got that look. Mike generally just grinned that damned insufferable grin, though, and there were a few occasions when Scott felt the urge to smack him upside the head. "Now this dimension we exist in is weird. All kinds of potential for paradoxes, destruction, and..." now it was Scott's turn to smirk, "Poofdom."
The mention of that word had the effect he wanted. Mike immediately stopped his comic relief and got a rather worried look. "Uhhhh... are you allowed to say that? Because... well..."
"Because it could destroy all of this," Scott finished for him, gesturing around. "Y'see, Poofdom is when one of the other people here learn the truth of our existence and why and when and how."
Mike edged away. "So why are you telling me?"
Scott tried not to let amusement show through his carefully composed features. "You're the only one that has a clue, and since I'm leaving, I have to make sure someone knows."
"I don't have a clue," Mike answered, a little hurriedly. That was only a half-truth, and both of them knew it.
"Bull. Now listen close... in this universe, there are people who basically control the flow. Not everything, because believe it or not, we have as much influence on them as they do on us, but most of the events are their devising."
Mike raised an eyebrow. "Like playing a video game?"
Scott shook his head. "Sort of, but a little more complicated. Let me try this another way... imagine that everyone here is a character in a novel, and there's someone writing out our lives. They throw in plot twists, new characters, whatever... but it's all written down."
This seemed to dawn on Mike. "Like the Neverending Story?" He was an avid reader, and that was one of his favorite books.
"A lot like that." Scott nodded. "Now we're all a part of this story, devised by our Writers. You and I have the same Writer."
Mike grinned slightly, pulling a wild card he had kept fairly secret until now. "Or Mun."
Scott blinked. He really wasn't as lost as he acted, was he? "Or Mun. Depending, I guess, on the situation... Since she wrote both you and I formally, either would work."
"So you basically yanked me away from the barbecue, threw a stick at me, and made me listen to you yack to tell me something I kinda already know?" Now Mike had taken on a somewhat smug aire.
"Well... yea," Scott said, resisting the urge to smack him again. "But you know that if you tell anyone, Poofdom occurs."
Mike went pale at the mention of that word. Poofdom was kind of complicated, and he only knew bits and pieces of the theory. Someone finds out they're nothing more than a character in a story, or an elaborate RPG, and they go *poof*. "Yea..." he shuddered. He didn't even want to think about Poofdom, let alone tell anyone about it.
Scott wasn't about to go into the fact that they're not even original characters, but characters stolen from TV or comic books. Not only was it a very touchy subject, but he highly doubted Mike would be able to take it. "Anyway, our Writer is insane. She's got a serious mental imbalance that forces her to mesh together as many universes as possible. The one we're in is the result of this lunacy."
Mike chuckled, "That explains you, now doesn't it?"
"Thanks," Scott sighed. "Now she's been my Writer for 7 years and counting, and Lord only knows how long she's going to keep you around. But as long as she does, you're going to have to be the voice of reason."
"Me?"
"Yes, you. Since one of the other Mun's went nuts, she feels it best to send me off to try out another life. That leaves you..."
Mike looked around with his patented "deer in the headlights" look. "Why not Remy, or one of them?"
"Remy can barely keep himself sane," Scott said, somewhat seriously. "She likes you, and that's why you have a shot at reasonably keeping her from losing her mind."
"But..."
"Don't worry, it's not as hard as you think. Just torment her over typos, throw out some ideas, basically keep her distracted from thinking too hard too quickly about real world problems." Scott was trying pretty hard to make this sound simple. In truth, it wasn't. His Writer had a lot of problems... the worst being her own mind. He had done his best to keep her from losing it, but now... now he had to leave. Still, Mike would do well in his stead. She adored the Wisconsin farmboy, and would go to some pretty extreme lengths to protect him from angst and pain. Scott hadn't been so lucky, but then, he was the first. She didn't know any better back then. Now that she did, someone else had finished him.
"But isn't it the first rule of a Character never to piss off the Writer?" Mike asked, a pretty simple question.
"Trust me, you can get away with it," Scott replied, grinning himself for the first time all afternoon. "I could, and I know you can."
Mike mulled this over, watching some leaves fly across the lawn. "Huh... so my job is to keep the Writer from losing her mind by driving her crazy with jokes about typos, misspellings, and plot holes?"
Scott nodded. He caught on quick when he felt like it.
"Okay, but the minute she starts tormenting back, I'm going to come after you and kick your butt to the moon," Mike finally agreed. He wasn't sure what he was getting into, but Scott was his friend despite their bickering, and it seemed pretty important to him.
Scott stood, offering a smile. "I guess that's fair," the smile faded into a smirk, "I dub thee Main Character, and may God have mercy on your soul." And with that, he walked away.
Mike watched him go, wondering if that statement should worry him. This was a relatively new concept to him, but not so weird he couldn't grasp it. Just like a sci-fi novel or a weird, psychological thriller. Turning his attention back to the leaves and the sunlight, he contemplated it for quite awhile, getting used to the idea by degrees. Main Character, eh? Maybe that's something that could come in handy. Very quietly, after glancing around to make sure no one could hear, he said, "So you're the Writer, I'm the Main Character. I don't suppose it's too much to ask for a nice long Indian summer?"
A cool breeze blew through, more of an edge on it than there had been all day.
Mike rolled his eyes, "Very funny," and stood up to walk back to the barbecue.
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