The Sentinel and all related characters are the property of Pet 
Fly, Paramount and UPN. No copyright infringement is 
intended. 
You can *try* to sue me, but all you'll get is 22 bucks in cash, 
a motley assortment of videos and one very obnoxious old cat.

Rated PG 'cause I used some naughty language. If you've 
made it past third grade, it's nothing you haven't heard before.

Archive, yes. Link to my page: 
http://www.geocities.com/SoHo/8868/sentinel.html

For those who like to avoid these things, this is another one of 
the 'majik-is-feeling-frustrated-so-she's-going-to-vent' rants, 
not so cleverly disguised as a Sentinel Fanfic. It's not three in 
the morning, but this is still totally unnecessary and completely 
pointless.

So what else is new?
________

A (Not-So-Unexpected) Visitor


Jim Ellison stepped out of the elevator with a silent sigh of 
relief. He was looking forward to a quiet evening in his own 
home, on his own couch, in front of his own TV, with his own 
best friend and a nice beer.

So, as was pretty much usual in his life, it didn't happen.

Jim's partner and roommate, Blair Sandburg, sat crosslegged in 
the hallway, his back against the wall opposite the door to their 
apartment. His eyes were closed, his head tipped back against 
the wall, and an open text book rested across his knees. Jim 
scanned his friend quickly, Sentinel eyesight finding no sign of 
injury, Sentinel hearing finding no indication of distress. 
Apparently, Blair had simply decided he preferred the drafty 
hallway to the warmth of his own home. Jim tilted his head to 
the side as he walked to Blair's side, listening intently to the 
interior of the Loft. There were no voices, no heartbeat, no 
sound of movement, but if he concentrated he could feel 
something different about the place. Different, but familiar.

Jim sighed and sat next to Blair. "Is majik back?"

"Yup." Blair didn't bother to open his eyes. "Apparently, she 
wants to surround herself with our universe in the hopes that it 
will help her overcome her writer's block."

"Writer's block?" Jim frowned, glancing at the door of the 
Loft. "She's been writing nonstop for the last month!"

"Not Sentinel stuff," Blair said dryly. "In her own words: 'I 
can't write Sentinel right now to save my life. Or my PC. Or 
my reputation.' Not that she *has* one..."

"So what's she been writing?"

Blair shrugged uncaringly. "A little M7. Some Mighty Ducks - 
Nosedive and Wildwing are *way* pissed with her at the 
moment, by the way."

"She killed them off again?"

"Something like that. Then she went on an anime craze-"

Jim grimaced and mimicked Blair, closing his eyes and resting 
his head against the wall. "Great," he grunted. "Ken and Ryu 
will be getting all the good h/c for weeks now."

From inside the loft, Jim heard majik's familiar voice start 
swearing.

"Tell me about it," Blair said unhappily. "Some idiot told her 
about a character called 'Dark Ryu' or 'Evil Ryu,' or 
whatever. She's sending him after Ken."

Jim chuckled. "Ken'll love her for it."

"Hell, at least it's not me."

"See? A bright side."

"Not like it's that big a difference. She hasn't put me in the 
hospital in... not since that 'Day in the Life' thing. And that 
was just a precaution."

Jim opened one eye and glanced at Blair curiously. "You sound 
upset."

"ME?" Blair sat up and glared at Jim. "For the first time in the 
last year, she isn't planning new and inventive ways to break, 
shoot, beat, and/or stab various pieces of my anatomy! I'm 
ecstatic! Upset?! She's picking on someone else! Ken gets the 
hospital bills *and* the black eyes! You think I'm upset? Get 
your head checked, man."

Jim grinned at him. "Of course, Ken also gets the buddy-buddy 
moments, the comfort, *and* the smarm."

"Ryu doesn't do smarm."

"Never seen Street Fighter II, have you?" Jim smirked.

"Oh, shut up."

Inside the loft, majik's swearing became bilingual. 

Deciding to change the subject, Jim asked, "What's the story 
that's gotten her so upset?"

" 'Upon Awakening.' " Seeing Jim's blank look he rolled his 
eyes. "You remember, the one with the drunk driver? You 
were in a coma for a year?"

Jim nodded, remembering. "I hate that one."

"So does majik, apparently."

"She says that *now,*" Jim pointed out. "But the second the 
writer's block goes away, she'll be on a roll."

"Yeah, yeah.  The second the writer's block goes away she'll 
be torturing me again," Blair pointed out with a pout. 

Jim shrugged and listened to the rants form inside the loft. 
"Maj knows Japanese?"

"Just the good stuff."

"I noticed."

"When she gets started in French, you know she's really 
stuck."

Jim kept an ear tuned in on majik's voice, vaguely curious to 
find out how many other languages would make an 
appearance. "So what's the big deal? She does the Street 
Fighter thing, gets it out of her system. She's been working on 
this story longer than I was in the coma. A while longer won't 
kill anyone."

"She's got beta-readers waiting. Besides, I said anime, not 
Street Fighter. She's halfway through a new Gatchaman fic and 
working on revising her old ones. Then there's that M7 fic-" 

"M7's not anime, Blair."

"-she's been working on for the last few months..."

"She'll never finish it. It's a death fic. She never finishes 
those."

"That's what you said about 'Upon Awakening,' " Blair 
pointed out.

"And is it finished yet?"

Blair decided that ignoring Jim would probably be a lot more 
efficient and went about doing just that. "Then she's gotten 
into this You- Yow... Y-something-or-other-"

"Yu Yu Hakusho?" Jim supplied helpfully.

Blair glowered. "I'm ranting. Don't help me right now, or I'll 
think you're on her side."

The logic of that escaped Jim, but he was used to it by now. 
"You think you'd be used to her by now. She's been dropping 
by for more than a year."

"It'll take a lot longer than that to get used to her," Blair 
scowled. "And how did you know that?"

"Yu Yu Hakusho? Remember Kristy? She was into that kinda 
stuff."

"Oh."

They fell into an easy silence for a few moments, while Blair 
steamed and Jim wondered if he was desperate enough for a 
beer to risk going into the Loft. He wasn't really. "Does she 
like it?"

Blair hadn't been paying attention and it took him a minute to 
figure that one out. "Oh. Yu Yu Hakusho? Yeah, I guess. She 
likes Hiei, anyway. Says he reminds her of me, only 
bloodthirsty. And she's picking up some more Japanese. Finally 
figured out what 'kitsune' means."

Jim blinked. "She's been reading those fox-people stories since 
she was twelve and she doesn't know what 'kitsune' means?"

Blair snorted. "No one ever said she was bright, man."

The door to the loft was violently pulled open and a floppy 
diskette came flying through. It smacked Blair directly on the 
forehead, then dropped into his lap. He started in surprise, 
glancing down at it. "What the-?"

Baleful hazel eyes, attached to a woman who obviously wasn't 
enjoying herself very much - which, Jim knew from bitter 
experience, was one of the worst qualities in a fanfic writer, 
outdone only by those who were enjoying themselves *too* 
much - glared at him as the woman carefully enunciated two 
short words. "Bite me," she said forcefully. The door slammed 
shut with even more violence that it had opened.

Blair rubbed his forehead. "Ow."

They exchanged a glance, a shrug, and settled back. "Anyway," 
Blair continued, "she showed up about four - actually, no, 
more like five hours ago. Just outta nowhere, man. No flash of 
light, no smoke, no brimstone. Just there. Her special effects 
bite. Then she drags out her PC and starts setting up shop like 
she owns the place! I decided my sanity was more important 
than grading my tests and made a break for it while she was 
plugging in the modem. While I was waiting for you I chatted 
up some of her other favorites; that's how I know what stories 
she's working on." He shrugged. "On the bright side, I haven't 
been kidnapped, shot, taken hostage or framed for murder so 
far, so I'm guessing she's still blocked." He smirked at the door 
and added in a loud voice, "Not that it makes any difference in 
her writing!"

Jim heard majik shout something. He didn't recognize the 
language, but it was short, loud and sounded extremely rude. 
"Why do you get on her case like that?"

Blair shot him an incredulous look. "'Cause she gets on mine 
first! At least I don't put her in the hospital twice weekly!"

"You know, if you look at her stories, she really doesn't do you 
much harm," Jim pointed out. "Compared to Karin she 
practically coddles you."

With a glower and a huff, Blair slumped even farther down 
against the wall. "Sure take her side."

Jim decided he wasn't going to talk anymore.

"Although, I guess, if you ignore her personality and 
everything, she's really not *that* bad. As far as fic writers go, 
anyway." Blair said each word like they were being torn from 
him. "Maybe she's okay."

Jim was still recovering from the shock of that statement when 
Blair leapt to his feet, leaned toward the door and shouted at 
the top of his lungs, "*Not that you could tell that from her 
writing!*"

Whatever majik shouted this time was louder, longer, and if 
possible, even ruder.

Blair lifted an eyebrow in mild admiration. "Wow. And most 
people consider Japanese to be such a *polite* language."

"What'd she say?" Jim asked, curious enough to break his 
promise about not talking anymore.

Blair shrugged. "Something about my  worthless soul burning 
for all eternity or something. My Japanese is really rusty."

"Ah." Jim tuned back in to the loft's interior and caught a few 
phrases in a more familiar language. "She's started in on the 
French."

"The end is in sight," Blair said with an air of satisfaction. "She 
never lasts long once she hits French."

"Why's that?"

"She doesn't know many swears in French," Blair said absently. 
"She runs out of them sooner."

Well, that was a good reason Jim supposed. At least it was to 
people whose minds worked like Blair's and maj's. "Want to go 
get something to eat?"

Blair checked his watch and shrugged. "We might do as well if 
we just waited her out."

From inside the loft, Jim caught what sounded like someone 
beating the crap out of a keyboard. "Actually, I think she's 
finished."

"The story?" Blair asked curiously.

"No. The computer. The keyboard at least. Unless fic writer's 
have some sort of magic I don't know about."

"Only through their stories." Blair eyed the door warily. "She'll 
probably have to go back to Real Life now. Maybe she'll leave. 
Go torture Ken, or Joe or Ken *and* Joe or..."

Jim blanched. "There goes the monitor."

"Or we could go out to dinner," Blair finished quickly. "Come 
on, Jim. Maybe she'll be gone by the time we get back."

Jim watched his friend race down the hall toward the elevator 
and cast one last look at the door to his apartment, wistfully 
remembering his plans for a quiet evening at home. Then he 
thought about the young woman currently on a rampage 
through the loft, and just what she was capable of when she 
was in a bad mood. Without further thought he turned and 
raced after Blair. "I'll race you to the truck!"


end


Street Fighter is the property of  Capcom. The Kagaku Ninjatai 
Gatchaman belong to Tatsunoko Productions. M7 belongs to 
some other people, but none of them are mine.

Well, now that I've gotten this off my chest, maybe I can write 
some *real* fic.

And for the record, you can blame all this on Lori McDonald. 
Wonderful woman. Fabulous writer. She's the one who got me 
into Yu Yu Hakusho, and got me re-addicted to Gatchaman 
and therefore is completely, though indirectly, responsible for 
my current inability to concentrate on The Sentinel. I'm not 
complaining though. <g>