Disclaimer: I do not own Biker Mice From Mars. If I did, I would have long since used the proceeds to make myself a life-sized Throttle..erm…bed friend. I also do not own the song "You Really Got Me"; that is property of Ray Davies and the many bands who have since performed it (seriously, there's a lot; from Van Halen to Alvin and the Chipmunks to Metallica).

Author's Note

Holy crap, my muse is being a bastard (yeah, my muse is a guy, what of it?). Maybe I've just stretched myself thin with too many writing projects plus school plus work plus a social life (which has probably suffered the most), but he isn't cooperating lately. A total lazy bastard until yesterday (March 3rd).

That being said, he did come through. I was listening to the Alvin and the Chipmunks version of "You Really Got Me" (featuring Honor Swift) when it hit me: this was EXACTLY the sort of music Vinnie would get up on stage and sing to have a great time. Then the words hit me, and a devilish grin plastered itself on my face. As soon as I got to the bus station (and missed my connection, DAMN YOU TRANSIT) I began to write feverishly; I had a wonderful idea in my head and I wasn't going to let it go!

Now I can't usually be persuaded to do a Vinnie/Charley fic; I don't really think they're meant for each other, but even I can't deny that Vinnie can be one hell of a charmer when he wants to. And even Charley, who does a spectacular job of deflating his ego on the spot, would have to succumb to his wiles once in a while. When I got home, I put down the pen and paper and started to think. And think. And think. Oh yeah, and I thought a bit more.

Fair warning, this fiction is the result of a pepperoni-cheese-and-pickle-induced gas attack. The lavatory is a wonderful place to do your thinking, especially something like this.

You Really Got Me

"Now?" Vinnie asked.

"No, Vincent," Modo sighed.

"Oh come on! I need a kaboom!"

"You'll get your chance," Throttle sniggered. "We're almost out. Besides, do you really want to bury all of us in rubble?"

"If he did," Charley said from the back of Vinnie's bike, "I'd kill him in the afterlife." She socked a goon upside the head as they sped down the halls of Limburger Tower. "Kind of like him; he's gonna wake up with a nasty headache, haha."

Throttle pointed ahead. "Window up ahead, bros! Vinnie?" Vinnie's eyes widened and he grinned savagely at his leader. All it took was a nod from Throttle before Vinnie went into his usual victory crow.

"AAAHHAHAAOOOOWWWW! YEAH!" He released the steering on his bike and grabbed five or six flares from his bandoleers. He tossed all but one back and watched as they burst into flame and set the hall on fire. Giving one to Charley, he said, "Care to do the honors, sweetheart?" Charley looked; in his other hand he had a pack of dynamite. Ignoring the question of where he got that, she smiled. "With pleasure." Lighting the flare, she ignited the dynamite and tossed both over her head into the dune buggy of an approaching goon. They didn't even hear the "Uh oh" from Greasepit as the bomb went off and they went flying through the window of the twenty-fifth floor.

"Aaaoooww! Now this is what life's all about!" Vincent roared. At a signal from Throttle, they gunned their bikes and shot onto the roof of a nearby building.

All of them laughed as Limburger Tower came tumbling down. Limburger's architecture was the pits; it only took one tiny little bomb to destroy a support and send the building crumbling. Charley wiped a tear from her eye. "Haha, you know, before I met you fuzzballs I got thrills from the usual stuff. Hanging out with friends, going to concerts, havin' parties. But now the best fun I can get is on the road or blowing up Limburger's junk."

Throttle cackled evilly. "Hear that bros, we've corrupted her! We got you, my pretty, and your little bikes too!"

Charley slapped him on the arm. "Oh shut up with the corny movie references, and let's go home. Hot dogs and root beer on me!"

Modo shoved aside the covers on tonight's sleeping area at the Scoreboard. "Bros, I swear I donno what we'd've done if we hadn't met Charley."

Throttle kicked off his boots and shed his vest before throwing himself on the couch. "Yeah, she's been real good to us, especially for a human. Most probably would have kicked us off their turf or call Area 51 or something, but not Charley."

Vinnie sniggered, leaning against the coffee table. "Oh come on, like she could turn away this handsome piece of work? Not likely."

"You're probably the biggest reason she needs to toss us out," Modo said airily. "But she really has done a lot for us. Good thing she's the best mechanic in Chi-town, otherwise she'd never be able to scrounge up the money."

Throttle nodded. "Yeah, and it's a good thing we can give her a hand, too. Hurts, though; some of those engine blocks are murder." Throttle distinctly remembered cleaning an engine when some of the oil squirted up right into his eyes. Oil plus mechanical eyes did not equal fun.

Vinnie yawned and collapsed on his chair. "Yeah, but what do you expect? Charley's not the kind to throw anybody out, especially homeless suckers like us."

"It was smart to suggest the Scoreboard," Modo admitted. "What surprises me is that Limburger hasn't figured out this is our hideout yet. Stoker always said to keep your enemies closest, and here we are only a little ways away from his tower. Heh, ol' fishlips must be stupid not to look in his own turf."

Throttle nodded. "Sure was smart of Charley. We really don't show her enough appreciation, though. Sure, we help out in the garage every now and then, but usually –"

"Usually you have us doing exercises or patrols or somethin'," Vinnie groused.

Throttle nodded; it was true, but how else would they stay in shape to beat Limburger back? "What if we threw her a party or something, bros," Throttle suggested. "She'd probably like to have a nice, normal party instead of all this weird alien stuff all the time."

"Yeah," Modo said. He levered himself up on his elbow and looked at the other two. "We could invite Four-By and Manuelo and everybody. She'd love something normal for a change."

Remembering what Charley had said earlier, Vinnie suggested a concert party. "You know, with a band and music and everything? She'll love it!"

"Then it's settled," Throttle said, propping himself up. "Tomorrow we'll get the supplies and make reservations and everything. I'm sure we could find an empty warehouse or something to do it in. But now…let's sleep. Vinnie, would you set that alarm Charley gave you? We need to be up before noon."

"Where to first, bros?" Modo asked.

Throttle sat back in his bike and looked at the list he'd made up that morning. "Let's see…let's go to that superstore downtown and see what they've got. Probably not everything on here, but enough."

Modo navigated the cart as Throttle and Vinnie tried to figure out just where the hell they were. Throttle pointed at the sign. "It says here that these are 'Ladies Essentials'. Well, Charley's a girl right? We should get her some of these while we're here."

Vinnie was busy inspecting a box. "You know, I've always wondered what a tampon is. Does it have like, juice in it or something? It's just this little tube!" When both Throttle and Modo shrugged, Vinnie went up to a store clerk. "Excuse me, citizen. You're a girl, right? Could you tell me what a tampon is for?" When he showed her the box, she promptly blushed and slapped him across the face. She walked briskly away and shut the door behind her in an office. "What? What did I say?"

"Let's see," a manager said, eyeing Throttle. "There's the shelves, all the product you guys ruined, a freezer of beef, and all the lights that you destroyed. My boy, I'll settle at fifteen-hundred dollars."

Throttle's mouth fell. "Fifteen-hundred bucks? Hey, we only wrecked one shelf of boxes, two shelving units, and the lights were because of Vinnie's singing! And that freezer didn't even have meat in it; there wasn't a hot dog in sight!"

The manager's frown deepened. "Consider it a tax for not reporting you to the police for traumatizing my clerk." Throttle groaned and counted out the money from his wallet. When we get back home, I am going to skin that white mouse ALIVE!

"Oh no you don't, get back here!" Throttle roared, waving his pistol in the air. Vinnie ducked behind a shelf as Throttle fired. A stream of water shot from the little gun and nicked Vinnie's helmet.

"Haha!" Vinnie crowed. "Still can't beat me!" He jumped up and looked around for Throttle, only to see nobody was there. He was about to go looking for him when Throttle jumped up and tugged open his pants, shooting stream after stream of icy water onto his precious cargo.

Modo shook his head as Vinnie jumped in agony. "Don't look at me," he said to the curious dollar-store manager. "I'm just the cart-pusher."

"What do you mean you don't have hot dogs?!" Vinnie roared. Throttle and Modo were struggling to hold the berserking mouse back from the restaurant manager. "What kind of eating place doesn't have hot dogs!"

The manager blanched. "Sir, we're a fast-food restaurant, and this is a DRIVE-THRU! You're holding up the line! Now please, go; we don't have hot dogs and we never have!"

Modo said to the manager, "Well, you should suggest it to your head office or whatever, that way you won't get idiots like this comin' through and holding up all the lines."

"I'll do that, now could you kindly remove him? He's scaring the other customers."

Throttle heaved and deposited the grousing Vinnie on his bike. "Behave," Throttle hissed. "Or I'll melt your mouth shut with a blaster bolt."

Throttle collapsed on his couch. "Oh gods, finally, the day's over! We are never taking you shopping again, Vincent."

Vinnie lay back in the chair. "Oh shut up. We had the money and we've got the stuff."

"Yeah, but now we're more than a thousand bucks short of what we were, all because you had to go and piss off Modo in the store."

"Like you're one to talk." Vinnie sat upright and glared right at Throttle. "What kind of chicken goes and squirts ice water into a guy's pants, huh?"

Throttle sniggered. "A smart chicken."

"WOULD YOU TWO SHUT IT!" Modo roared from the other room. "I'm trying to make reservations over here!" He shook his head and turned back to the phone. "Yes sir, sorry about that; problems with the tenants. Now, about that warehouse…yes…yes, we have the money…Got it. Thank you sir, we'll see you tomorrow."

Modo hung up the phone and turned back to the fridge, overflowing as it was with the party supplies. "Great, now how in the name of Mars am I gonna make this work?"

"Hey there bros, this is Sweet Georgie Bro-own, coming to you live with the best music in Chi-town. Now here's some Guns 'n' Roses for your rock and roll ne-eeds."

Modo sat back at Charley's table and sighed. "See Charley-ma'am? Nothin' better than a nice quiet Sunday without any fishlips or greasemonkeys."

Vinnie chugged a root beer. "Yeah, really. Say Charley-girl, you up for a quick spin around town, or is my baby to fast for ya?"

Charley laid down a card on a pile and turned to Vinnie. "Oh no, your baby's fast enough. You're just not."

Throttle laughed as he laid down his card. "Man, Vinnie, when are you gonna quit? Your turn, Charley-girl."

Vinnie snorted. "Never's when. You can't get the Vin-man to back down from a challenge, it's just not done!"

Charley was about to respond when the radio was interrupted by Sweet Georgie Brown. "Hey bros and gals, sorry to interrupt these awesome tunes, but we just received word that a big greasy guy in a dune buggy is ransacking a warehouse downtown. If there are any bikers out there who can do anything, you gotta get down their pronto-oo." With that, the radio cut back to the music.

Throttle gave Vinnie a look and Vinnie blanched. "Oh man, didn't we just wreck old Lard-butt's operation a couple days ago? How'd he get back on his feet already?"

Modo frowned. "Yeah, no kiddin'. He usually takes a week or so, and his Tower's not even fixed yet."

Throttle tossed down his cards and sighed. "Well bros, looks like we've got another fish to fry. Again."

Charley tossed down her cards and made to get up, but Modo pressed her back down. "Aw, Charley-ma'am, there's no need to be doin' that. This is just a routine run, we'll be back in a jiff."

Before Charley could so much as protest, they were gone. The sound of their bikes revving in the distance began to fade away, and she huffed in frustration. "Why those chauvinist posturing mice, I'll throttle them! Who are they to tell me not to come, huh?" She growled and ranted all the way to her bike. Slamming her helmet on, she started the bike and shot off, muttering something about ripping tails out from their roots.

Charley ground to a halt near a smoking warehouse. All thoughts of beating the tar out of the mice sunk with her stomach. An icy claw gripped her gut as she dismounted and ran through an open door. All she could say was, "I hope I'm not too late…"

Charley edged her way into the darkness of the warehouse. Suddenly there was a creaking and BANG as the door she came through fell off its hinges. She jumped and drew the blaster Modo had made for her, casting her eyes around for anything that might present itself as an enemy.

There was total utter silence; not even a breath of air made its way through the warehouse. Charley's grip on the pistol tightened as she made her way to the center of the complex. Her foot scraped a stone against the ground, and without warning a loud KABOOM sounded several feet away from her.

As she screamed the lights flashed on and she whirled around to see Vinnie standing atop several crates with a bazooka in hand. "SURPRISE!" everybody yelled. It took a moment for Charley to click in, but then she recognized all the inhabitants. There was Four-By and Chef Andy and Manuelo and just about all her friends!

But she had eyes only for Vinnie. Angry eyes. With a snarl she dropped the pistol and ran after him, climbing the crates and jumping over boxes with her hands outstretched like claws. "VINCENT VAN WHAM YOU FISH-BRAIN OF A MOUSE GET OVER HERE! I'LL TEACH YOU FOR SETTING OFF A BAZOOKA NEAR ME, YOU LITTLE –" Vinnie didn't even have time to react. He dropped the weapon as Charley launched herself on him and started hitting him.

"Hey hey, Charley-girl! Calm down!" Vinnie desperately put his arms in front of his face to protect it from her seeking knuckles. "Come on, it was just a joke!"


Everybody laughed as Modo pulled her off Vinnie. "Hey chill, Charley-ma'am," Modo crooned. "Come on, we're just havin' fun! And you'll miss your party if you spend it trying to rip ol' Chrome Dome's face off."

Charley stopped struggling and looked around; you couldn't argue with someone like Modo. "A party? What are you talking about? Why would you go and do that?"

"To show you how much we appreciate what you done for us, Charley," Throttle said, placing a hand on her shoulder. "You've been watchin' out for us since we got here, and we don't really show our gratitude all that much so…we decided to throw a party for ya!"

Charley blushed. "Oh guys, you didn't have to, really. I'm just glad you're all still here. Not that I don't want you guys to go home, I just – I mean it's not like I want you guys to leave, I mean…Ergh! This isn't coming out right!"

Modo chuckled. "Ah, don't worry about it, Charley-ma'am, we know what you mean. Anyways, let's go have some fun, yeah?"

Vinnie chuckled nervously as he levered himself up. "Hey, uh, Charley-girl?" he called after her. "You're not gonna rip my face off, are ya?"

"I still haven't decided yet."

Charley, Four-By, Andy, and Throttle were all seated around a crate, telling stories to each other and laughing up a storm. Charley burst into a fit of giggles and had to lean on Andy as Throttle told everybody about Vinnie's famous baby pictures. Charley was about to give them all an account of their act to fool the Road Ravens when the music stopped and Vinnie started calling attention to the stage they'd set up.

"Hey hey, everyone, eyes up here please!"

"Wow, Vinnie used 'please'," Charley commented to Throttle out the side of her mouth. Throttle just sniggered; there was a first time for everything, right?

"Hey hey, quiet down, would you?" Vinnie snapped at some kids. "Now, I'm up here in all my wonderful glory to sing you guys a song. Hey Georgie, put in the blue one, wouldja?"

"Sorry dude, but we don't have that one, but the band knows it."

"What?" Vinnie's chin dropped. "Oh come on, I mailed that to you yesterday. Ah, whatever…alright guys, hit it! This goes out to Charley-girl!"

A quiet "two-three-four" was heard and then the guitars started to do their tough metal riffs. Everybody, even Charley, began to headbang to the music. "Yeah, rhythm!" Modo roared, smacking his hands and legs along with the drums. Then Vinnie began to sing, and everybody prepared to cover their ears ("Are all the windows shatterproof?" Charley asked Four-By).

Girl, You really got me now,
You got me so I donno what I'm doin'.
Girl, you really got me now,
You got me so I can't sleep at night!

Girl, you really got me now,
You got me so I donno what I'm doin', yeah!
Oh yeah! You really got me now,
You got me so I can't sleep at night!

Whoooaaa! Yeaaaaaah!

Please, don't ever let me be,
I only wanna be by your side (Come on, babe)
Please! Don't ever let me be!
I only wanna be by your side!

Girl, you really got me now,
You got me so I donno what I'm doin', yeah!
Oh yeah! You really got me now,
You got me so I can't sleep at night!


Vinnie's screeching note gave way to a metal solo from the lead guitar. And of course, Vinnie took advantage of the opportunity to start jumping all over crates, psyching up the crowd. Not that it was needed; they were already in total moshpit mentality. Then Vinnie started singing again, with the guitar solo done and the drums the only instrument playing.

Girl, you really got me now,
You got me so I donno what I'm doin'
Girl, you really got me now,
You got me so I can't sleep at night!

Back to the guitars, Charley thought with a smirk, headbanging as the guitars came back into the song.

Oh girl, you really got me now,
You got me so I donno what I'm doing, yeaheah!
Oh yeah! You really got me now,
You got me so I can't sleep at night!



Then the lights shut off and spotlit Vinnie sliding into that classic fist-pumping rock and roll kneel.

Charley stood near the exit of the warehouse, waving everybody off. "Thanks for coming guys, I had a great time! See you at the next Limburger raid!" Soon enough it was only her and the mice left behind, cleaning up the decorations. Charley leaned back against a table, smiling at the boys trying to clean up the stage. It really was sweet of them to set up that party for her. And then there was Vinnie's last song. Was that really for her? Charley made a mental note to talk to Vinnie about that later.

"Nah, bros, the best part was when Georgie went and shot off those fireworks. We didn't even pay him to do that!"

"What are you talking about, Modo?" Vinnie scoffed. "Who needs to be paid to set off a kaboom, huh? The awesomeness is payment enough!"

"Ah, blow it out your tails, both of ya," Throttle said. "Best part was the guitar solo of that Van Halen song."

"Actually," Modo pointed out, "That was Ray Davies. First performed by The Kinks." The other two gave him a look. "What? A bro can't be up to date on his music?"

"So long as you don't get someone like those chipmunk things doing a version," Vinnie said. "They'd wreck it with those high-pitched voices of theirs."

Charley came up behind him and pushed him lightly. "You do know that they're not real, right? It's just a guy singing slowly and speeding up his voice."

"Hmph. Would still wreck it. Now Metallica, THAT'S a good band to play it. I can just hear the strings now!" Vinnie promptly started to use his broom to play mock-guitar. "Waow nea wow wow yeah!"

Charley swatted him on the shoulder. "Yeah yeah, metalhead." She checked her watch and frowned. "Wow, it's getting late. Hey, why don't you boys head home. I'll finish up here."

Throttle cocked an eyebrow. "Really Charley-girl? You sure you don't want the help?"

Modo frowned. "Yeah, this is our mess after all, and it's your party. A lady should never have to clean up after her own party."

Charley cupped Modo's cheek and smiled. "You're too sweet, Modo. But I'm sure; I'm taking tomorrow off to do some repairs around the garage anyways. But you-" she tugged Vinnie's ear- "are staying right here with me. I've gotta have a word with you about a certain bazooka."

"Aw man!"

Throttle and Modo laughed as they exited the warehouse. "Don't be too hard on him," Throttle called over his shoulder. "Otherwise you won't be able to rip into him again." Charley just fixed Vinnie with a stern glare as the other two shut the door behind them.

When they left, she said, "You, Vincent Van Wham, are a glutton for punishment."

"Ow!" Vinnie finally succeeded in detaching his ear from Charley's fingers. "Man, sweetheart, that hurt! Why you gotta be so rough, huh? Too much and you'll wreck this spectacular specimen of a mouse!"

"Oh yeah, I'd be in hell then," she replied, rolling her eyes. "But I do have a question: Why'd you dedicate your song to me?"

Vinnie blinked. "Whaddaya mean, babe? Why wouldn't I?" When Charley blushed, he kicked in: Harley. "Oh Charley-girl, I miss her, but there's no point chasing after a fading star. Even if we found her, she wouldn't be the same. And anyways, Harley didn't do half of what you've done to help us out. She was a medic and a Freedom Fighter, but you've done that and more." Vinnie laid an arm around Charley's shoulders. "Babe, we couldn't ask for a better Charley-girl than you."

Charley's blush only worsened. "Oh, Vinnie, you're a horrible romantic. But still, that's real good of you. And don't worry, we'll find a way to get you home and save Harley."

Vinnie, for once actually feeling the romance, gripped her tighter. "Hey babe, I am home. Anywhere I go, so long as I've got you. You really got me, babe."

"That is such a cliché you – mmfff!" Charley's admonishment was cut short when Vinnie slowly pressed his lips to hers. Even Vinnie fought a bit at first, reluctant to fully open his mouth. What? Charley thought. Since when is Vinnie nervous about anything like this? Then his antennae brushed against her forehead, and a spark zapped her mind.

She was still there, in the room and kissing him obsessively, but she wasn't. Even as she revelled in the sensation – in him – she found her mind bombarded by sensory information. She was in Vinnie's mind.

Fear was probably the strongest emotion, the most powerful. But the most prominent one – the one Vinnie made most obvious by his extraordinary attempts to suppress it – was the feeling of betrayal. And it wasn't for Harley either but for…Throttle? Before Charley could make sense of it, though, Vinnie pulled away and ended the kiss, detaching her from his mind instantly.

Charley's sense of time evaporated. She had no idea how long she and Vinnie stood there, just staring into each other, but she knew it came to an end when Vinnie went and sat on a crate, leaning over. Charley immediately followed him, sitting down beside him and putting a hand on his arm. "Vinnie? Vinnie, what's wrong?"

"You weren't supposed to see that," Vinnie whispered. "Nobody's supposed to see that…" His face fell into his hands, and his body began to quake. "Only one person knows that…"

Charley pulled him into her. She still didn't understand; what was he talking about? "Vinnie, I don't know what you mean. Who knows what?"

Vinnie shuddered and straightened up. What was going on? The great Vincent Van Wham didn't break down like this! Still…he had been hiding it for a long time. He was ashamed of it, that something he was raised to hate and loathe and destroy. But it was also something that he had, a secret that he swore he'd come to terms with.

Something about the way he was staring at the ground told Charley something similar; he was fighting a battle. There was a distant look in his eyes – Oh my god, she thought, he's actually crying! – and Charley was sure that he was fighting a battle he'd been fighting for a long time. "Vinnie," she said tentatively, "If you've gotta get something off your chest…"

"You don't wanna hear it, I know." Vincent's voice was like a knell. "Don't worry, Charley, I won't bug ya with it." He made to get up, only to have Charley pull him back down.

"Not even close," Charley rebuked. "I want to hear about it. You've been doing this for a long time, haven't you? You've bottled it up a lot."

"When you're in war, you've gotta suck it up and move on. Nothin' I can do about that."

"Well we're not in a war right now, so talk."

Vinnie sighed. Maybe it really was about time he came to terms. But with Charley-girl? He didn't want to unload all that baggage on her, did he? But then again, when was he going to find another person who was so understanding? "Well…it all started back when I was a kid in Brimstone…"

Author's Note

Oh wow, bit of a twist there, huh? You'll notice that I left that entire ending rather ambiguous. If you're interested in hearing my opinions on what's going on there, then please send me a PM and I'll be more than happy to discuss the idea with you. It is quite fascinating, in my opinion, so please do not hesitate to speak your mind (just respect other's opinions, please; no flaming)!

Ah, where'd Throttle get the money? By now, I would surmise the city paid them at least a decent bit of money. And if not, I'm sure that they could have raided Limburger's safe sometime, seeing as they blow up his tower every few weeks.

So, did Vinnie sing good or bad? I'll leave that up to you to decide; personally, I think he would have performed that song rather well, but it does add to the comedy to think of him as screeching and squealing like a baby pig. Seriously, it does xD

Speaking of the song, I'd like to point out that I do not share Vinnie's heinous opinion of Alvin and the Chipmunks, who are currently my favourite band for their epic awesomeness (seriously, listen to some of their recent songs; Ross Bagdasarian is a bloody genius!), and I am aware of the number of covers that have been done for "You Really Got Me" as written by Ray Davies. The one Vinnie is performing is similar to Van Halen's version, which I thought was epic gold. Musically the best, was Van Halen's, but the best lyrical quality is the Chipmunk version in my opinion.

Some credit for this fiction goes to ElvenAngelMayCry. My last part was rather bare and horrible until she incited spark after spark of inspiration, which is what made this fic what it currently is. So to her, a big THAAAAAANNNNNNKKKK YYYOOOOOOOUUUUUUU!

Ahem. Finally, I would like to give you all a status update. Discovery: Homecoming is almost ready for an update; I'm just about done the actual writing of the next chapter, and I have several others already planned. Unfortunately, I have begun to dwindle in the writing of Everybody's Favourite Talk Show: Biker Mice Edition, as it requires research, and research requires more time than I have. Regardless, it IS getting done, just at a sluggish pace. , as it requires research, and research requires more time than I have. Regardless, it IS getting done, just at a sluggish pace. Cats Don't Dance: Darla's Revenge has been edited and is en route to an update. Dissonance: A Brome Fanfiction is similarly placed, though the edits aren't quite done with that yet.

My big project, the story that ElvenAngelMayCry and I are working on (entitled The Vanguard: A Tale of Redwall), is the most rapidly progressive. We have several chapters planned out, a few written, and are constantly revising and updating the characterization and plot and otherwise. So be on the lookout; we'll have it up and running very soon (probably once I'm out of school).

Well, that's all for now, methinks. Read and review; I'd like to hear your opinions on this fic.

Hera Ledro


Dear Readers,

It's come to my attention that a fair number of people want me to write a continuation to this story. After much grueling and terribly torturous thought (notrly), I've come up with an answer.

-clears throat- No.

The entire power of this story comes from the fact that it is powerfully ambiguous. There are many roads that could have led up to it - namely Vinnie's history - and many that it may follow. Think of this story as being at a crossway; you look behind you and there are myriad paths which you could have come from, but you're not sure which one. When you look in front, you see just as many - possibly more - roads which you can take. Let's assume for a moment that I provided you with a map of where you came from and where you should go. You may be grateful, but dammit that would take away all the adventure! What would Vinnie think, huh?

So here's what I'll do: I will invite ALL of you to write a spin-off to "You Really Got Me", if you so choose. No, I CHALLENGE you to do it! Such an act provides us with many things, but the main beneficiary is you: it will provide you a sense of closure, since you are making up the beginning and end of this story, and it will also get your ideas out there. There are many different interpretations based on your point of view; if I were to continue this and give you mine, then I would be giving you that gods-be-damned map and sending you on your way. That's wrong in my opinion; you as a reader have the right to your own interpretation, especially when the writer made the story so that it would be open to said interpretation.

So please, if you have your interpretation on this fic, then I challenge you writer-to-writer to make a spin-off. All I ask is that you respect the characters enough to not take them completely OOC. Histories are malleable; writing a history is a form of reverse psychology, and you can use your psychological knowhow - or whatever other knowhow, really - to make a plausible history for Vinnie. Go even further and use his current character to make a nice follow-up to the scene from this fic.

So if you want a continuation, then it's all up to you. I hope to see you and your stories soon!

~Hera Ledro