AN: I know that I REEEEAAAALLY shouldn't be posting anything else with everything I've already got going, but I watched RENT today, and then I realized that I'd never seen one of these for the RENT fandom, so I decided I'd try my hand at doing one myself.

...Ugh.

—Maggie

DISCLAIMER: I own nobody except myself, Bree belongs to herself, and everybody else belongs to Jonathon Larson. Man, though, I sure wish I could tie up Adam Pascal and keep him in my closet...*le fangirl drools*


Roger was very confused. How, in the name of all that was holy, had he ended up on an empty stage when he'd literally less than a minute ago been lounging on the couch at the loft strumming out random chords and notes on his guitar? For that matter, where had his guitar gone? It seemed to have disappeared. As he began turning in a slow circle to take a look at his surroundings, he noticed Mark standing off to one side. He didn't have his camera, which was strange, given that the last time Roger had seen him, he'd been carrying it under his arm as he left their building to go film. The two men stared at each other, a silent conversation passing between them along with the occasional shrug. One by one, the rest of their group all appeared, each one looking just as confused as Mark and Roger both felt, and lastly, Benny showed up.

"Way to go, Benny," Maureen said as they all formed a circle in the middle of the stage, not knowing what else to do. "Look at this, you literally broke actual reality, you jerk! Thanks a lot!"
"Is that even possible?" Roger wondered out loud. "To break actual reality? Like, no duh that virtual life can be broken, like if you're doing an MMORPG or something and the computer crashes, then obviously virtual life has been broken, but I'm not sure it's possible to break actual reality, is it?"
"It is now, thanks to Benny," Maureen said, hands on her hips.

"I mean, why else would we all just randomly end up in some empty theater and be literally the only people in it? The way I figure, Benny did something stupid that resulted in actual reality getting broken, and whatever he did made us end up inside virtual life, hence the unnatural emptiness and silence of this place."

"I like that theory, Mo," a voice said, "but as awesome as it may be, it's unfortunately not true. Good guess, though, A+ for coming up with that."

They all turned. Standing among the audience seats was a teenage girl with dark brown hair pulled into a sloppy bun that had probably started on the back or top of her head, but had ended up loosening enough to fall so that it covered most of the back of her neck. She wore mismatched knitted fingerless glove, a navy blue one on her left hand, and a light green one on her right. Around her neck was a black necklace with tiny green Swarvoski crystals and a filgeree witch's hat that rested just below her collarbone. She had pearl studs in her ears, fingernails that had obviously been chewed and bitten many times, and no makeup to hide her acne. She was wearing jeans and brown kneeboots that laced up in the back and had zippers on the inner sides, a purple tee-shirt with a witch hat and the words "You say 'wicked' like it's a bad thing" printed on it, and a faux leather jacket with most of its buttons missing, along with the belt that had no doubt once gone through the now-empty belt loops on it.

The girl rocked on her heels as she waved. "Hi," she said, "I'm Maggie. I brought you all here. Sorry for the inconvenience. And I know I look young, but I go to a public high school, so don't be afraid to cuss and swear in front of me. When you go to public school, there's pretty much nothing you haven't heard by the time you get into my grade level, believe me. I hear that stuff on a daily basis, it doesn't phase me at all. Anyway," she said as she reached the front of the stage and climbed onto it, then straightened out her shirt, "I know you guys are all wondering why the hell I stuck you all on this random stage, so let me explain. See, I'm a fan fic authoress, and even though I haven't written or published much for the RENT fandom before, I'm a huge RENThead. Awhile back, like when I first joined the fan fic site I post on, I started a Q&A thing with the characters from Wicked. Basically it was this thing where readers sent in reviews with questions and dares for the characters, that sort of thing. Anyway, I've never seen one of those for the RENT fandom, and I just watched RENT today, right before this idea came to me, actually, so I thought I'd stick one out there."

She turned so that she was facing the audience and snapped. Several people shielded their eyes as the house lights went down and the stage lights suddenly came on, shining directly down onto everybody. In the exact same instant, they were suddenly faced with a full house, and what looked like a talk show set appeared on stage. A girl with tangled blonde hair came running out from stage right, a huge grin on her face as she practically flew towards Maggie and then aburuptly skidded to a stop beside the brunette. "This is Bree," Maggie said, gesturing to the other girl. "She's like my partner-in-crime. She's also a huge RENThead, and, oh, Roger, you might wanna watch out because she's like insanely into you. Come to think of it, so am I. SHAMELESS ROGER FANGIRLS!"

The two girls hugged each other tightly and let out matching high-pitched squeals of excitement. "Anyway," Maggie said once they'd finished with their moment, "here's what's gonna happen; we're gonna get reviews from people asking you guys questions and giving you dares. You're going to answer and do them, and if you don't, you're going to have to deal with whatever punishment Bree and I come up with for you at the time. Oh, and if at any point any of you sees a guy with dirty-blonde curly hair wearing a red-and-gold vest with a tricolor sash come running through here carrying a big red flag that's torn and has holes in it, I want you to go stage right, and just behind the curtain over there, you'll see a white box, which is where the house light controls are, and right next to that box, you'll see a big red button labeled ENJY ALERT, and I want you to push the button if you see this guy, alright?"

"Sure, but why?" Joanne asked. Maggie rolled her eyes and sighed. "Oh," she said, "he's been running and trying to hide from me for like a week now 'cause for some weird reason, he's gotten it in his head that I'm like the leader of the French National Guard or something. He's from Les Mis, he's the leader of a student revolutionary group from nineteenth century Paris that built this barricade in 1832 after General Lamarque died, then they all went and got shot. Anyway, his name's Enjolras, he's got a minor obsession with barricades and the building thereof, I told him he's not allowed to have one inside my giant underground hideout, and a few days later, bam, he's suddenly running around in his vest and sash with the flag, screaming at the top of his lungs that I'm the leader of the National Guard in disguise and I'm not to be trusted and a bunch of stuff in French that I only understand an occasional word or phrase of and blah blah blah."

"And I thought Grantaire was the drunk one," Bree muttered. Maggie nodded. "Yeah, no chiz," she agreed. "Anyway, if you guys see him, just hit that button for me so I know where to come look for him, alright? 'Preciate it. Alright, Bree, let's go see about adding Aaron Tveit to the Hostage Collection of Epicness while we wait for the first reviews, shall we?"

Before Bree could say anything in response, Maggie had snapped the fingers of both hands, and in a puff of glittery green smoke, she and Bree were both gone, and the house was once again empty, leaving the Alphabet City Avant-Garde (plus Benny) standing on the stage with nobody but each other for company.

"Well," Roger said finally, crossing his arms, "this oughta be interesting."


AN: So yeah. That's that. Send in reviews, ask questions, give dares, and let's see what kind of hilarity ensues.

—Maggie