Well...the characters on this page, I don't really own them, as that would be slavery, except for Data, since that's me...everybody else, well, they own themselves...

BUT from here on out, anycharacter that is not one of these, I don't own them...

have fun, and please, review...

Jack Lamont – better known as Data – sat back in his chair, sipping on the sharp blue ale. He watched the cantina around him, his cantina. Placing his feet on the table next to his wickedly sharp Katana, he reclined, and closed his eyes. He heard a small poof, and knew his red haired compatriot had arrived.

“Data! Why did you call us?” Zifnab spun the chair on the other side of the table and sat in it, his eyes intent on the relaxing being. “Where is everybody else anyway?”

Sitting back up, Jack smiled; smoothing his already straightly slicked and tied back long brown hair, he gazed at his friend, wearing a Beatles T-shirt, his shaggy hair almost covering his eyes. “I wouldn’t have needed to call you. You come everyday. I’m still waiting for the other Cantinians.”

“Right.” He moved to another table, pulled out a Quill, and started writing on some parchment.

Data sighed and relaxed again, he hated waiting. After nine hundred years, one would think he would be used to it. A thud came from outside, and Data could see a large black Dragon, dancing around, then taking off. A young man walked in, brown hair, shaggy like Zif’s, but wearing glasses and a Queen shirt. “Ah, Canadian, I see you have arrived.”

The Canadian – Lord Saxtus – what he was lord of, nobody knew, went to the counter and ordered a Pepsi, always a Pepsi. “Data, I have that sword almost finished for you.”

“Thanks Sax.” Data went back to sipping his ale, a slight shudder as it plummeted to his stomach. He went back to listening to the bustle and conversation in the cantina. How many world domination plans had he foiled by just doing that?

Zif waved at the teen and cried out “Lady Saxily!” and laughed at the Canadian’s grimace.

Two out of, how many Cantinian’s now? Rose never came around anymore, that pained him, he had only summoned the true Cantinain’s not the interlopers that had been coming in lately.

Black smoke rose from the floor, nobody noticing, or even giving it a second thought as it took on a human shape, and wings unfurled from the smoke, vanishing, leaving a muscle bound man, but intelligence in his eyes. Dog tags hung around his neck, his hair was not long like the others, but short, black and curly. The dark skinned man sat down at the table and started sketching on his ever present sketchbook. “Yo, Free, what’s up?”

“Nothing really Data.” He went back to writing, quite as usual. Nothing compared to the next person to enter the room. He entered, a grey pinstripe suit, and a Thompson sub-machine gun in his hand. The said gun was firing out the front door, apparently shooting at some group to whom he owed money. Finally, he leapt out of the door way, and rolled behind the counter. The sound of an old car roared out in the night, or at least it was from wherever he came in from. What would be the point of having a cantina if it wasn’t built on the larges rift in space and time in the universe, reaching into other galaxies. “Krates.”

Kratos Dante sat down, placing his weapon on the table next to the katana. “Data, I need more advice.”

“You come to me again?”

Kratos nodded, “You always give me good advice.” He stood back up and went to the counter, sitting next to Free. Those two always seemed to get along the best.

From behind the counter stood a swinging door, which was thrown open and a tall man, his hair longer than Zif and Sax’s but no where close to Data’s, was thrown out, fending off toasters foaming at the bread slots, whipping their electrical cables at him. The man cursed in Dutch and kicked one back into the kitchen. A roar inside told Data the Dutchman’s pet oven had eaten the scourge of the kitchen, the Rabid Toaster. He slammed the door shut and pulled out his reason for venturing into the dangerous kitchen, a humble Pie.

Zif looked up at him. “JW, why don’t you use the oven behind the counter? It would be much easier for a pie.”

JW grumbled something about pie-phemy and sat down in a dusty armed chair. A strange aura glowed around it, as the tall man ate his pie. Teh sacred chair.

Soon a lovely blond entered, Zif growing very red and trying not to seem to be staring at her. “Hello Virv.” Data knew whom it was by only looking at Zif.

“Hi hon.” She sat down at the table with Data. Virvel, the Finish Princess as they all called her. The flame of Zif’s heart, and a close friend of Data. The only female to grace them since Rose left. He gave her a hug and a wink. She nodded, and with a small smile, stood and went over to sit with Zif, who managed to regain his composure.

From the second floor came a bespectacled American, and his friend, about the same age, same for almost all of them for that matter, who looked VERY tan. Irish and Kip respectively, arguing about some ‘Blossom.’ The American sat on one end of the table and the Portuguese sat on the other end. Their argument ended with Kip making some overly sarcastic comment.

Finally, from the rafters, a shape dropped down and formed into a teen, a bit younger than Sax. “The myth, the legend, the Man. Lep.” Data muttered as the vampiric human sat down and drained a glass of blood.

Data finally stood up, all were here. He placed his katana back under his black trench coat, and walked out into the middle of the cantina.

“Alright, this is actually one of the few times we are here at the same time.” He began.

“Yeah, I noticed.” Kip commented.

“Anywho.” Data sighed. “Who’s bored? Yeah, we write, but do we actually ever do ANYTHING?”

“I make pies!” JW called out.

“I think we all could use a change of pace.” Virvel said calmly, her hand resting on Zif’s arm.

“Indeed.” Data smiled. “And I have the perfect plan.” He walked over and grabbed a wall, pushing it out and over, revealing a large stone ring.

Zif’s face lit up at the sight of the Stargate. What’s you’re plan?”

“Well, we sit on the largest rift in the universe, what’s better than having a bit of fun?” He looked at the DHD and dialed, the inner ring spinning, and the large energy wave being emitted. “Who wants to go?”

In a wave, all the Cantinians ran through the gate, leaving a smiling Data to enter last. The gate shut down, the cantina quiet except for a single figure sneaking in though the window, a mime entered the light and started taking pictures.

Next thing, a small explosion was emitted right next to the door, leaving a hole large enough for a man to enter. Hobo Joe crawled through, his clothes ragged. He looked around and saw the mime. “Hmmmmm.” Drawing a blaster from under his arm, he shot the mime, watched it crumple. Sitting down, he rested, and tried to decide who would win in a fight – Batman or Spider Man. The rest of the cantina was silent.