A/N: I'm sure you will remember quite a few of the Writers, as they were insane enough to volunteer a second time, but there are some changes to a few of the names. Honeybee, for instance, is sparklyscorpion here on ff dot net. Mistressphantomshadow is The Maiden Amorisa. More will be explained as needs be— maybe.

Chapter Two: Wrist Buffet

A cold wind blew that day, evil and foul-smelling, bringing on its frigid breath a scent like death, a taste of destruction, the cold shiver of horror, the metallic tang of blood, the feral devastation of a war-torn land.

But enough about the weather.

We've got a total lack of plot to get on to.

The point about the wind was someone had the door of the recently-enlarged Administration Office open, and the wind blew towards the feet of the man who stood there, ruffling the hem of his long black coat (with silver buttons). He had his arms folded, and looked slightly peeved. Largely, he was peeved because Random had gone out and gotten the exact twin of his long black coat (with silver buttons) even though on her it dragged several feet behind her on the floor. He had tried to get her to go out and buy a nice feminine pink coat, but she had laughed at him and then tripped over her tails.

He was tall. He was pale. He was skinny. And Adison the PR Agent had given him some glue, so he had finally gotten his mask to stick. Of course, the fact that he now couldn't get it off again was somewhat worrying, but at the moment there were bigger things afoot.

Lots and lots of bigger things.

Worse, most of them were taller than he as well.

He looked at the highly irritated stream of Eriks that were being marched into the room, their arms held firmly by dozens of dedicated Writers. Their faces were thunderous without exception, angry and hateful and furious and full of hate and raging and hating— Stalker Erik made himself stop listing synonyms. He wrote stories now as well as poetry, but was discovering that there were quite a few drawbacks to being a full-blown phic writer. When he had discovered this, sitting at Random's desk alternately doodling in the margin and closing his fingers in the drawer, Random and a bunch of the other Writers had gathered around and poked at him and said, "Ha. Ha, ha ha. Ha."

Which he didn't appreciate.

He likewise didn't appreciate it when Random snapped the chain around his wrist and said, "See how you like being shackled to a desk and made to write twenty four hours a day, sometimes twenty five—" and then threatened him with Mistressphantomshadow until he agreed to write some comedy.

Even more than this, it really irked him when they all left the room, turned off the light and shut the door, leaving him behind chained to a very heavy desk.

He shook himself out of his angry reverie and stepped forward to the front rank of captured Eriks.

The one in the lead happened to be Kay Erik.

"Oh dear," whispered Mandy. She and Celtic Heart each had one of Crawford Phantom's arms, and had, up till now, been enjoying a pleasant conversation with this rather genial and friendly Erik.

"What?" whispered Celtic Heart back.

"I said, oh dear."

"What?"

"I said, oh dear!"

"Really?"

"Yes."

"I just said that too!"

They glanced at each other, then up at Crawford Phantom.

"Listen, hon, would you mind just keeping custody of yourself for a second? We need to talk."

"Anything for you two lovely ladies," said Crawford Phantom, with a slight smile. He had been easy to catch— at least, he had been easy to catch once the Dynamic Duo had set up the specially-adapted weasel trap that Mandy had bought off E-bay. It's a highly interesting story, but it will have to be explained later on, as it hasn't been entirely thought up yet.

CH and Mandy stepped out of the crowd of Eriks and watched the show.

"You'd think Stalker Erik would get it by now," whispered Mandy.

"What?" said Celtic Heart.

"Never mind," said Mandy with a sigh. They stood and watched the sea of Eriks for a bit.

"You know," said Celtic Heart, "you'd think that Stalker Erik would get it by now."

Mandy peered at her. "Get what?"

"That Kay Erik doesn't like him."

Mandy shrugged, returning her gaze to Stalker Erik, who stood, stalwart and intrepid, or possibly not, attempting to out-baleful Kay Erik.

"Kay Erik doesn't like anyone."

"True."

But Kay Erik especially did not like Stalker Erik. It was the widely held opinion that the reason for this was because the two were so much alike— but we'll leave that to the reader to decide.

Stalker Erik cleared his throat.

"Welcome," he said.

Kay Erik glared.

Stalker Erik managed a weak smile.

"You," said Kay Erik. "I demand that you make these two women let me go at once."

Stalker Erik flicked his gaze down to Allison and Regina, who were clutching tightly to Kay Erik's arms. It could not be said of these two that they were neglecting their duty, although the coy glances they were sending him from underneath their eyelashes were probably not part of their job description.

He glanced back up.

"Sorry, but it's the rules."

"Rules?" hissed Kay Erik.

Stalker Erik threw a book at him. It hit Kay Erik just above the collar bone, and the look in the eyes of the infuriated Erik was enough to make it painfully clear that it had been a bad idea. His fingers twitched, he detached Allison and Regina, and looked like he was about to make something else painfully clear as well.

Stalker Erik backed off.

"It slipped!" he babbled. "I was just trying to show it to you and it slipped—"

Kay Erik growled and lunged for him. It would have been a painful experience for the stalker except that MPS was right there, and she threw herself in front of Kay Erik.

"I'll save youuuuu—"

There was a crunch as the two of them hit the floor.

Stalker Erik winced.

"Er—"

"Ow," said MPS from beneath Kay Erik, and then giggled. "My, Kay Erik, I'm glad to see you again too!"

He grunted and pushed himself away but she grabbed his shoulders and pulled him down again.

"I knew an Erik would love me someday!"

"Er— MPS," said Mandy kindly. "I don't think he appreciates you doing— what you're doing."

"What? I can't help it, I'm a hopeless romantic."

"Hopeless romantic does not mean 'all about sex,'" said Stalker Erik. "Just to clarify."

"Well, then I'm not a hopeless romantic, what of it?"

The horrified silence was broken by a bass voice, singing wildly.

Leroux Erik looked up, his eyes wild.

"No—" he said.

"Oh yes," said about eighty percent of the phangirls.

It had taken four Writers to capture Gerry Phantom. Well, alright, it didn't really take that many— but about twenty had volunteered, and these four were the chosen few. Killthefop, Twisted, Grace, and Mademoiselle Phantom led him in, holding onto his coat possessively, and looking up at him with adoring eyes as he sang.

"Cecelia— I'm down on my knees— I'm begging you please, to come home— come on home—"

Kay Erik, from his position on the floor which looked decidedly uncomfortable, scoffed, and then choked as MPS pulled his head down and viciously attacked it with her face.

"Hey, hey now," murmured Stalker Erik, nudging them with his foot and, mostly, looking relieved that it wasn't him on the floor. MPS's reaction to this was to flip Kay Erik over and try to rip off his shirt.

By this time, however, Celtic Heart had found the hose and turned it on full blast.

MPS shrieked. Kay Erik shouted. But it worked, and the two of them, bedraggled and wet, scooted away from each other on the floor.

CH looked at Kay Erik nervously, awaiting the reaction.

"Th-thank you," he said, his teeth chattering, hugging his arms around himself.

She sighed, as Becky went to help MPS up. "Why do I get the horrible feeling that the hose is going to be necessary a lot during the course of this thing?"

"Maybe we can convince Random to keep it below ten chapters," suggested Stalker Erik. Celtic Heart glared at him.

"You just don't want the hose turned on you for any reason."

"Right on," said Stalker Erik, and snorted.

"Well, maybe if you wouldn't keep walling people—"

"WALL!" he shouted, bayed out a laugh, and clapped a hand over his mouth, snorting furiously through his nose. Celtic Heart sighed testily and went on.

"Or if you would just put your silverware away once in a while—"

"FORK!"

"Or if you could possibly stop turning ordinary household objects into double entendres—"

"Eh—" said Stalker Erik, dropping his hands to his sides again. He looked thoughtful. "Alright."

There was a murmur of protest from most of the PPNers in the room, but he simply shrugged.

"Wall?" said SimplyElymas, looking totally baffled.

"In-joke," whispered Allison to her, with a nudge.

"Ah."

"Its carried over from PPN... that tends to happen a lot, and if you don't go there, you probably won't get a lot of what's going on."

"You kidding?" said SimplyElymas, blinking at her. "I can follow any conversation! It's a talent."

Allison shrugged. "Be that as it may—"

"Alright," said Celtic Heart, and rapped on Mandy's head with her knuckles.

"Ow," said Mandy.

"Can I have everyone's attention please? Thank you. Now, we need all of you Eriks just seated at the large table in the—"

"TABLE!" shouted SimplyElymas.

There was dead silence, and everyone turned to look at her.

She blinked pleasantly at them all.

Stalker Erik clutched at his stomach.

"What is it, this— strange feeling of foreboding I have—"

"His French senses are tingling," muttered Adison to Hoshi, and the two of them snickered. Stalker Erik glared at them and they went quiet. The minute he turned away again they continued laughing.

Stalker Erik looked around him, at the crowded Administration Office filled to the brim with highly peeved Eriks and slightly bored Writers, at the newly-strengthened ranks of the minions, at the lemon that was, oddly enough, stuck on the ceiling, at the door through which Random would undoubtedly be plowing any minute now, at the sketch of him shirtless that hung on one wall—

He frowned.

"Hey."

"Sorry," murmured Twisted, "I got inspired."

"By what, exactly?" he asked, baffled. Twisted sniggered.

MPS opened her mouth to start monologueing on how Stalker Erik was the hottest thing around, but Monj alertly stuck a lemon in her mouth and so there was that problem solved.

Stalker Erik looked around a moment more, fingering his shirt. "No, must have been something I ate," he said at last.

Gradually the Eriks were shuffled into chairs, ranged around the long table. They sat elbow to elbow and looked at each other distrustfully.

Crawford Erik cleared his throat.

"Well?" he said. "I assume this is the doing of the infernal Ms. Battlecry?"

"Ooh! Infernal!" said Hoshi alertly. "She'll like that. We'll have to add it to her titles."

Adison nodded and scrawled "Infernal" on the wall.

"Done and done."

"Are we here for a purpose?" called Gerry Phantom. "And why do I have three girls sitting in my lap?"

Le Chat trotted into the room in cat form, winding around the legs of the Eriks and inspecting their ankles keenly. After a moment, she sniffed and jumped up into Crawford Phantom's lap, peering up at him.

He gazed back down at her, and said, "Good kitty kitty kitty—"

She lifted her chin and allowed him to rub underneath it with his finger, purring throatily. Er— Chat purring throatily, that is, not Crawford Phantom. Though, judging by the expression on his face, it was only a matter of time.

Chat finally jumped off Crawford Phantom's lap and made her way down the table, inspecting wrists as she went. The Eriks stared at her as she went past, still purring.

"Cats," said Kay Erik, murderously.

"Whosa pwetty kitty den?" said Erik Destler, unexpectedly.

Chat carried on until she reached Leroux Erik. She peered at his wrists the longest, and slowly investigated them with her nose, sneezing slightly. Leroux Erik gazed down at her and rubbed the cat snot off with his other hand. Finally she looked up and said, "LEETLE!"

"Aaaaaaaaaugh!" shouted Leroux Erik, at being confronted with a talking cat. Most of the other Eriks were rather surprised as well, and the noise level in the room rose dramatically.

From one side came a voice.

"What's all the hubbub— bub?"

They turned and as with one voice, though tons of throats, which is a bit confusing, but lets just leave it at that, said "You!"

Random grinned at them shyly, hitched her towel a little higher towards her shoulders, and said, "Is that not the worst entrance line you've ever heard?"