Just a few replies this time... I know, I say that a lot. But I mean it. Everyone, you may assume that, in the last chapter, you got at least a minute with your favourite Erik, is that alright:)

Anche: You can be in it anyway, if you want... I think you'd make an even fifty.

EriksAngel1870: It seems everyone liked the Stalker Death-Threat. All I can say is, on PFN, they're a dime a dozen... :)

Clever Lass: I'll try to tone down the in-joke-iness... its hard though, with most of the people in here being PFNers and all. But I'll try. Just for you. Cuz you gave me reviews. Okay?

Slina: Apparently Crawford Phantom was more popular than I thought...

Longblacksatinlace: Ah, see, you may be left-handed like me, but I've got you beat in the shortness department. Four foot eight, anyone?

Songwind: CHAPTER DEDICATION to you for the Phic-Moderator Idea.

ChristineX: CHAPTER DEDICATION to you, too, for giving me the pool-party idea so long ago. It was meant to have been bigger but somehow...

Gavvie: Going to see Phantom. Way cooler than anything political, I promise you. Throw tomatoes at Raoul, instead.

Musique et Amour: (forehead kiss) Right, that's enough of that.

DarkPriestessofAssimbya: Oh, I'll show back up again. (wink) You're on the list now, by the way.

Hoshi: (sigh) So happy PFN was back up in a reasonably short time. I was running arond like a head with my chicken cut off. It was TERRIBLE!

Librarian of the Deep: I gave you an idea? (nervous) With the glue-stick thing? Oh dear.

Foreveriseternallymine: blue eyes, green eyes, who cares. Well, I do like green eyes better, but you know what... I don't like Gerry for his eyes. (breathes in deep) There, I said it. :)

lazy.kender: I know that joke! I made Carl the Friar tell it in my Van Helsing fic! Aeons ago— I'm not technically blond. What with the advent of summer, though. I will be pretty soon— ah the first sunburn of the season. Ouch. Ouch ouch ouch.

LuvinLivnReadn: Another Stalker fan. (sigh) Of course I got to kiss Gerry Phantom, I'm writing this thing. It'd just be a tragedy if I didn't take advantage of it, right? (grin)

Chapter Eleven:Unappreciated Cameo By A Snot Bubble

Chaos, as usual, ensued, as soon as Random left. It took the form mostly of arguments between the Eriks as to whether it really was chaos, since it kept happening and now seemed to be the normal course of events.

"In this life," said Crawford Phantom rationally, "we must expect there to be some upheavals in the course of everyday existence."

"Agreed," said Kay Erik, "but I think this is rather a lot of upheavals for one day, don't you, hmm? Several hundred other versions of me showing up, followed by—"

"Yes, we know the drill," interrupted Gerry Phantom. "What I want to know is, why am I suddenly compelled to flirt with every female I see?"

Crawford Phantom and Kay Erik stared at him. Leroux Erik broke in.

"Of all the gall, to say that this is your lair! It is mine, I tell you, and belongs to me. I will not suffer it taken away from me. I order you— I command you, to get out at once and leave me to my solitude." He turned away from them and folded his arms— his glance suddenly lighted on the passed-out form of Real Christine and he gave a cry of alarm and fell on her, gathering her up in his embrace. He began to try and carry her to the bedroom, but found when he got there that it was locked, and someone had pocketed the key. Locked doors are not a good thing to put in front of the Phantom of the Opera, and from then on all the conversation in the lair was carried on over the sound of impatient banging and frustrated screaming.

The Writers were having a different discussion. This stemmed from the fact that several of them were writing fop deaths with every evidence of enjoyment, and sparklyscorpion took offense at this.

"Why can't you just leave them alone? They didn't do anything to you!"

"They prevented Erik from being with his true love!" said Phantomy-cookies. "Whaddya mean, they didn't do anything to us?"

"Of, for goodness sake," said sparklyscorpion testily. There was a series of booms from where the Raouls were hidden and some maniacal laughter from Killthefop, who had written herself a captains hat that said "Chief Overseer of Fop-Killing," and sparklyscorpion threw her hands in the air and raced to the barricade to help the wounded.

Most of the Eriks were huddled in conference over in a corner, discussing the situation. Stalker Erik attempted to join them but after being threatened repeatedly with a punjab he took the hint and returned to his fellow Writers. Now, he sat on the ground absent-mindedly scrawling music notes in the margins of his notebook.

Eventually he began to sing.

"I will, I will, she sighed to my request— and then she tossed her mane while my resolve was— "

There was a startled silence from the Eriks in the corner, a massive and immediate return of the punjab threat, and Stalker Erik promptly shut up.

"Keep going," said The Maiden Amorisa.

"What, and get killed for my pains? I don't like singing that much."

"Hmm," said The Maiden Amorisa thoughtfully. She was scribbling on her notepad as well, having had her fill of Patrick Raoul, who was still locked in the bedroom and, from the sound of things, still crying, adding his wails to the shrieks of Leroux Erik, who was now attempting to punjab the door and, needless to say, failing. Stalker Erik stood and paced back and forth across the room.

"Its not fair that everyone gets to kill a fop, now," he said.

"Why, did you think only men could do that?" sneered Sydney the Poet.

"No, its just— its just not fair! I liked it when I was the one who got to kill the fop— I was the comic relief— now I'm relegated to secondary character status again and The Maiden Amorisa won't leave me alone and I—" As he spoke, the buttons on his shirt started undoing themselves. He snatched them together in both hands and turned an infuriated glare on The Maiden Amorisa.

"Do the words 'dismembered body parts strewn across four continents' mean anything to you?"

She thought about it.

"We're going to take a trip?" she suggested brightly. Stalker Erik sighed, shook his head at her for a moment, and then decided he was fed up with it all. He picked up her feet, dragged her to the lake, and threw her in, before wading in after her and trying to strangle her. She managed to avoid him, just barely, by striking out for the opposite bank. Not realizing how shallow the water was, halfway through she got a cramp and sank shrieking into the depths never to be seen again— except that I promised I wouldn't kill people off unless they asked for it, so Raoul's horse, who had amusing itself on the opposite shore by peeing on everything in sight, saved her just in time.

Stalker Erik made it back to shore in time to join in the discussion about what should and what shouldn't be messed with.

"We can't change each other," said EriksAngel1870 rationally. "We can only change fictional characters."

"The issue of the shirt would seem to disprove that," said ElfLover.

"My shirt?" asked Stalker Erik.

"Yours— and mine," sighed Le Chat. Where before she had been wearing a perfectly normal beige t-shirt, someone had transformed that into a bikini top with pink bows on it. Glancing around, Stalker Erik spotted Gerry Phantom hunched in a corner with a pen and paper.

"Well, they've figured it out," he said resignedly.

"But they shouldn't be able to mess with us," said Mademoiselle Daae. "We're real."

"Its reality that we can change," said Librarian of the Deep. "That's the power of fiction."

"Would you stop saying that?" snapped A-Lonely-Dreamer-56.

"Okay, look, no more messing with each other, okay? We are strictly out of bounds. Hey!" Celtic Heart leapt after Adison, who had managed to make her, briefly, bald, with a t-shirt that said I'm Too Sexy For My Hair, That's Why It Isn't There.

Songwind stood up.

"That's enough of that!" she said. "I hereby proclaim myself the official Phic Moderator." She snapped her fingers and a hat appeared on her head that said PM in fancy letters.

Phantress blinked dazedly at her.

"How did you do that?"

"I wrote it down," said Songwind, motioning to her notebook. Phantress glanced at it— the page said Songwind snapped her fingers and a hat appeared on her head that said PM in fancy letters.

"Cool," said Phantress.

"And now, as Phic Moderator— I demand that something interesting happen!"

As if in answer to her statement— in fact, it was in answer to her statement— at least, you can assume it was, if you believe that she is in fact the official Phic Moderator— which you might not— anyway, there was a tremendous crash from the direction of the labyrinth and a moment later sparklyscorpion came running in.

"I gave them grenades!" she said. "They were just so helpless back there behind the barricade and you guys were picking them off one by one— was— was that not a good idea?"

Alarms began to go off around the lair, leading the Writers to wonder what had caused Leroux Erik to put grenade-detectors in. This was an interesting line of thought, but as the first wave of Raouls came thundering and shrieking into the lair, there was no time to consider it. Most of the Writers rushed for the bedroom, closing themselves in.

Phantom versus Fop should be an easy contest, but with the superior firepower sparklyscorpion had bestowed on them, the Raouls were clearly going to make some headway, despite the fact that they only figured out how to use the grenades by accident, when one of them tried to eat one— luckily, the Christines were still devoted to the Eriks, and they got in the way.

There was about ten minutes of explosions before the fops ran out of grenades, and when it was over, all but a few of the Christines lay dead and dying. This completely unmanned the fops, of course, and then the crying started.

The Eriks took in the carnage with furious eyes, though a few of them were sorely tempted to brush their hands off and take the whole thing at a loss— to be rid at once of both the Christines and the Raouls seemed suddenly unbelievably enticing. These ones left before the battle was joined, wading into the lake and striking out for the opposite shore.

The rest of the Eriks moved forward, menace undeniable in their eyes, punjabs held in their hands, the wild light of their madness glittering in their eyes—

From one side, Gerry Phantom, who was too handsome to truly be a murderer, and Crawford Phantom, who was too well-bred, treated the whole thing as a spectator sport, and cheered the home team on. Kay Erik and Leroux Erik led the charge into the midst of the devastated Raouls— and at this point we will draw a veil over the carnage, much to everyone's disappointment, and turn to the scene in the bedroom, where fifty Writers and one fop were trapped in close quarters.

There were various yelps as the sound of the battle that was being waged outside the door got to a few of the weaker ones, and then there was a yelp from Patrick Raoul. Sparklyscorpion tugged Stalker Erik's hands away before he managed to kill him, however.

"Hey!"

"Will you stop trying to kill people? Honestly, you'd think you were five years old!"

Stalker Erik frowned and blinked quizzically. "Why— do five year olds try to kill people?"

"Look, I don't know what I meant by that sentence, but I'm sure I meant something!"

"Hey!" yelped VegaOfTheLyre as she was knocked into a wall. "Can you stop shoving, please?"

"Nearly fifty people in a small room," reminded eyesofatragedy. "There's not a lot else to do."

"Look, the bed's empty," pointed out Mademoiselle Phantom.

"Yeah, get in the bed!" shouted DarkPriestessofAssimbya.

There was a general rush as twenty of them tried to sit on the bed at once. Only twelve of them made it, and the rest ended up being shoved to the floor. Meta-Chi stood up, brushed herself off, and scowled.

"This entire situation is ridiculous! The stupidity of this is surpassed only by— well, lets face it, this surpasses everything. For how eager we were to kill the fops, its kind of strange that we are now hiding from them."

"Well, somebody gave them grenades," said pOtOgurl417, turning a glare on sparklyscorpion.

"I'm the official Raoul Protector! What was I supposed to do, just let you guys pick them off one by one? Stalker Erik, if you don't let go of Patrick Raoul's throat I am going to hurt you!"

Stalker Erik froze and then, very carefully, let go of Patrick Raoul's throat and patted his hair back into place.

"I wasn't doing anything— "

"We should be out there helping," said Phantom's Fallen Angel. "Not in here, cowering. The explosions have stopped, I would assume that means the grenades have run out."

"What if it means they're all dead?" called longblacksatinlace forlornly. Phantom's Fallen Angel glared at her.

"Obviously, the only way we're going to find out is if we go out there. Are you with me, gang?"

There was a quiet murmur from the Writers. This was not enough.

"I said, are you with me?"

Unfortunately, it was all they were willing to give. Phantom's Fallen Angel sighed heavily and headed for the door.

She was halfway there when there came a strident knock, and her reaction was to squeak and run away.

They all stared at the door.

The knock came again.

They flinched.

"Obviously, someone has to open the door," said Mandy the O.

Nobody moved.

The knock sounded again, and Stalker Erik shook his head. "That knock is bad news, believe you me," he whispered.

"We believe you," muttered the Writers.

Bang!

And this time, underneath the sound, was the petulant voice of The Maiden Amorisa, saying, "Let me in, for the love of Pete! There's dead people out here!"

The Writers let out their breaths, and someone went to open the door.

"Told you it was bad news," said Stalker Erik, but they ignored him.

The Maiden Amorisa bounced in, bestowing a fond glance on the inert and shaking form of Patrick Raoul, who had finally given in and just fainted dead away. "You would not believe the loads of bodies out there," she said cheerfully. "Its like a— "

"War zone?" suggested SimplyElymas.

"Battlefield?" offered ButterflyOfLothlorien.

"— video game."

"Ah."

Tentatively, and fearing greatly for their Eriks, a few of the Writers poked their heads out the door.

For a moment it looked like there was nothing there. Then in the gloom, they perceived the forms of the Eriks, most of them anyway, standing quietly, talking amongst themselves.

Kay Erik looked up as a few of the Writers came towards them. He smiled faintly underneath his mask.

"Where are the fops?" asked lazy.kender. "What happened?"

"It was a mighty battle," said Kay Erik, looking down at his hands and twisting his excitingly-long fingers together. "There were a great many casualties— all on their side. Except for the Christines that we lost— there were several of them— most of them, in fact."

"But where are they? What happened to the bodies?"

"They disappeared," said Crawford Phantom. He looked a bit shaky. "We are fictional, after all— once we die here, in this story, we go back to our other haunts, our other tales— there is no truly killing a good character— "

"We are fictional, after all," whispered Gerry Phantom, kneeling, crushing a rose in his fingertips, and displaying a snot bubble to prove that he was crying. "We truly are fictional—"

This would be a lovely and important realization to end the chapter on, seeing as it relates to finally coming to grips with the fact that life is precious, and shouldn't be wasted, shouldn't be squandered, and all you can do is do what you can with the time that is given to you, and a million other cliches which have been adequately represented in movies like The Lord of the Rings. However, its also kind of a downer, and so I will add that they went on to have a pool party.

As the Writers sat on hastily-conjured deck chairs, sipping lovingly-conjured drinks with umbrellas and fresh fruit in them, watching hundreds of Eriks, shirtless, ducking each other in the lake to wash off the dust of battle, there was a definite feeling of— something.

Hoshi put it best, perhaps.

Raising her glass so she could look through it at the swimming Eriks, she said, "Here's to older men."

There was a murmur of assent.

At that point, it was not the sort of thing you disagreed with.