SECOND LIFE
An AAA Interlude
by Alicia Ashby

"Next bottle."

"Another... you just finished one!"

"I know that."

"By *yourself*!"

The bartender was not a cowardly person, but even he was frightened by the intense look in the
surly patron's eyes.  The long adamantium blades popping out of metal protrusions situated just
behind said customer's knuckles didn't hurt, either.  "Do I look drunk to you, boy?" he growled.

Rotor the Walrus gulped a little.  Wolf looked slightly inebriated, but not at all what he'd expect
a mouse that just downed an entire bottle of whiskey to be like.  Probably the old 'healing factor
negates the effects of alcohol' bit.  Still, though, he was very uneasy about giving him a second
bottle... everyone had their limits, even Author Avatars. 

And Rotor had dealt with a lot of furries who had drank far past thier limits in his time as the
bartender of Knothole 57.  That was not surprising, as K 57 was the multiverse's premier
gathering place of the most prominent furries known to fiction, fanfiction, and even MUCKs. 
While the famous and revered Club Anipike willingly served those of the anthropomorphic
persuasion, furries were a rare enough sight there to get stared at.  And that was clearly
something that Rotor's surly customer, the (in)famously violent Wolf, hadn't felt like dealing
with.  

This wasn't the first time the Knothole 57 staff had been forced to deal with the commando
rodent's rages, either.  He could still remember the nasty brawl Wolf and Bunnie, K57's bouncer,
got into the night Wolf had lost to Pat Lee in the first round of the first AAA tournament.  Then
there was the time just before his match with Kefkain at King of the Net when his sheer anxiety
had suddenly made him *highly* irritable.  Naturally, he was attempting to AK-47 the club's
chef, Antoine d'Coolette, before the night was over.

But the reason why Knothole 57's owners tolerated Wolf's antics was very simple: thanks to
Wolf's healing factor and a high income from fanfics and being an AAA star, he could afford to
buy enough alcohol there to actually get slightly inebriated.  That was the main reason why
Rotor was so reluctant to give him that second big bottle of whiskey; if Wolf drank himself to
death, then Rotor would never be getting that new big screen TV.

So, Rotor decided to let the customer be right this time.  He reluctantly retrieved a fresh bottle
from the back and presented it to Wolf.  "All right, but I hope you can handle this," he
cautioned.
     
Wolf snorted derisively at the pudgy technician-turned-barkeep, and immediately turned his
attention to spending some quality time with an old friend by the name of Jack Daniels.  

It was around that time when Bunny admitted a certain pink hedgehog into the club.  Sonya Sho
Robotnik glanced around, and quickly spotted Wolf at the bar.  She walked up and took a seat
beside him, waiting expectantly.  After five minutes went by without Wolf so much as noticing
her, she finally decided to get his attention the best way she knew how.  When Wolf went to
pour his next shot, she pulled her blade out of its scabbard on her back and neatly cut the bottle
in half.  Wolf looked up with an angry snarl, and seemed ready to pull his claws out before he
recognized her.

"That's one hell of a way to say hello," Wolf sulked.

"*You're* the one that wanted to see me," Sonya replied with a slight smile on her face. 
"What's wrong with you, anyway?"

Wolf glanced into the broken shards of his bottle for a few minutes.  He tried to think of where
to begin.  That he'd first failed to protect her when she needed him?  That he'd then failed to
beat Kefkain when it really counted?  Or the fact that she'd been made magically better by one
of *Brisby's* plot contrivances, so everything he went through was meaningless? 

Wolf turned back to face Sonya, his eyes almost dead.  "Nothin'.  Absolutely nothin'."

*****

The headstone on the grave was cold and smooth, the letters carved with care into the polished
marble.  Around it was scattered the momentos left by visitors come before, including a patch of
beautiful flowers that grew there in defiance of every trait of their species and a massive scale
carving of the departed's face.  The site itself seemed to pulsate with the force of the emotion
spent there.  And somehow, it was all very underwhelming.

"I expected... I don't know.  I thought this would be more dramatic," she said quietly.  "I mean,
most people don't get to see their own gravestones."

"Well, it doesn't really mean anything anymore," her partner replied.  "You're not dead."

Alicia Ashby, co-god of the AAA, stood up and sighed.  "I know.  I almost feel guilty about it.  A
lot of people missed me... and everything they did is pointless now!"

Her partner Timothy McLees, better known as Shinji, smiled gently at her.  "Well, I'm sure we
could ask someone to kill you again."  

"That's not funny."

"Trust me, I know," he said very seriously.  "I was at the funeral."

Alicia glanced down at the gravestone, deep in thought.  "There has to be *something* I can do. 
Something to make it all matter."

Tim eyed his friend suspiciously.  "Who said it *didn't*?"

"Not to us.  To them.  Everyone else."  

"Oh.  Well, what could you do?  I mean... the person they all got to know wasn't really you."

Alicia smiled.  "Yeah, it was my psyche in a fur coat."

And then an idea struck her...  

*****

Hours had passed as Wolf and Sonya talked in Knothole 57.  Whatever they had discussed, it
seemed to have made Sonya very, very happy. 

"So you in?" Wolf asked.

"You think you've even gotta ask?  How could I pass up somethin' like that?"

"I already toldja, it's gonna be a damned dangerous stunt to pull.  Ain't no guarantee we're
gonna walk out of there in one piece.  You know your brother."

Sonya grinned.  "Yeah.  Still can't get over the fact he's stayin' around.  Actually had to ask for
*political asylum* here so all his loyal subjects back home didn't tear him apart."

A feral grin to match Sonya's spread over Wolf's face as well.  "Well, we'll be fixin' that."

"Yeah, an' if we're gonna do that, then some us have trainin' to get to in the morning.  'Night, 
Wolf," she said as she stood up.  "Be seein' ya."

Wolf absentmindedly said good-bye to her, and then decided that it was time to make Rotor's
life hell again.  He never got the chance, though.

When he'd glanced out across to see where the walrus had gotten to, he saw someone else walk
into the bar.  Someone familiar.  She was a lynx-like feline, with long dark hair and a taste in
clothes that wasn't too feminine.  After all, most girls wouldn't wear a T-shirt that proudly
proclaimed 's*ck it!' 

It was her.  It had to be her.

"Actually, it's not."

Wolf started, and whirled around to see a tall, skinny human male sitting on the bar stool next to
him. He had no idea how he got there; it probably didn't matter anyway.  Like every member of
the AAA, he could feel the presence of one of the Powers in their natural form.  

"You wanna explain this to me, or are we peons allowed to know about these kinds of things?"
Wolf asked with a predictable lack of respect.  

Shinji smiled and pointed at the feline, who was currently engaged in conversation with Rotor at
the bar.  "Well, that's Alicia's Avatar.  Her name's Lynxara.  She's been in existence for about...
forty minutes or so.  That's why Alicia's not here herself.  She's little bit wiped out right now."

Wolf stared, dumbfounded.  "What's she doin' here?"

"Probably trying to get a job."

"Just one more thing I wanna know, then you can get back to jugglin' planets.  Why?  Why the
hell did she do this?"    

Shinji looked thoughtful for a minute. "Well, she told me to say something about giving the
AAA a mascot, but I don't really believe that.  Personally, I think she just didn't want to leave
you alone."

Wolf turned and stared at the cat-girl again, who seemed ridiculously overjoyed with the job she
had just gotten waiting tables.  He wondered what she was like.

"Well, go and talk to her," Shinji advised.

"Would you quit that?!"

"Sorry.  Just trying to help," he not-quite-apologized.  With that, he blipped out of the club in a
small flash of green light.

Wolf snorted after he was sure the demi-god was gone.  "Help.  Damn kids just can't leave well
enough alone.  Well, if she wants to be a waitress..."

At the other end of the bar, Rotor winced as he heard Wolf very loudly shout for the barkeep.  

"So, when do I start?" Lynxara asked enthusiastically.  

Rotor shoved a tray into her hands, and pushed her in the commando rodent's direction. 
"*Now*.  Deal with him, and you'll have a job here for the rest of your life!"

Lynxara glanced at the violent-looking mouse and shrugged.  "Sure!  He doesn't look so bad..."

Rotor gawked at the girl, and then shook his head.  Avatars.  Go fig.  
____________________________________________________________________________ 

LEGAL STUFF: Very little in this story was the author's.  Wolf is the property of Darren
Perlongo.  Rotor, Bunnie, and Antoine are the property of DiC and Archie Comics.  Club
Anipike is the property of Nightbreak.  Everything else is the property of Alicia Ashby and/or
Tim McLees.    

This story is dedicated to the memory Darren 'Sabrewolf' Perlongo.