[The_Secret_Life_of_Gabriel_Miller: Back_in_Action]

Am I the only one who’s ever noticed that Gabriel is just a little cagey re: his personal life? I mean, we all guard our privacy and anonymity to a certain extent, but we barely know anything about the boy beyond l’orangerie stank and brief allusions to certain ill-advised sexual encounters with some friends in San Diego. As with Trent, we have no idea what Gabriel does behind the scenes, and I think that he is no less worthy of some fanfiction than “notre amour.”

So in honor of our webmaster and record-breaking spunk producer, I present my own creative interpretation of The Secret Life of Gabriel Miller…

Volume 1

Gabriel clicked on “Post” with a smile. That’ll show Maise, he thought. He couldn’t help exclaiming aloud, “I am AWESOME!”

“But not awesome enough…Pisces,” a husky female voice intoned behind him.

“Gemini,” he acknowledged without turning around. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

“Of course you didn’t,” she confidently replied.

“How did you get past the state-of-the-art burglar alarm, motion detectors, and retina scans?”

“Oh, we hacked into that earlier. The password wasn’t especially hard to figure out. ‘I eat what I made.’ Brilliant.”

“And the bear traps?”

“You must think I’m a fool.”

“And my vicious guard panther?”

“He’s a pussy.”

“Well, Gemini,” Gabriel said, “I guess you’re as good as you always were.”

“I’m better. Look, would you just turn around already?”

“No,” Gabriel replied.

She sighed deeply.

“I’m surprised it took you this long to find me, though.”

“We didn’t need you before. Now we do,” she shrugged.

“So sorry, I’m retired. Remember?”

“There are no retirement options in The Zodiac.”

“Well, I don’t believe in that astrology crap anymore, sweetheart.”

“You used to.”

“That was mostly to get laid.”

She snorted in disbelief.

“What?” he protested, finally facing her. “We were lovers once.”

“No, we weren’t,” she declared, “I fucked you. Enough of the terse banter. We’ve got a job to do, and I am to bring you back to headquarters willingly…or not.”

“Not tonight, kitten,” Gabriel replied, standing up slowly. He grabbed his trusty nunchucks from beside the computer and started swinging them in a figure-eight motion. “You know,” he began, “I never meant to use these again to kill…”

Without another word, Gemini reached inside her leather trench coat and pulled out a small bamboo blowgun. She blew through it, and Gabriel was stung in the neck with a dart that, although tiny, was extremely painful.

“What…the…fuck?!” he asked with a strangled cry as he dropped to his knees and then fell face-first onto the floor. His vision began to blur as he stared at her impractical black boots. He gingerly craned his throbbing neck upwards to peer into her scowling face, which was framed by long, straight, honey blonde hair.

“It’s beddy-bye time, Pisces.”

And as Gabriel faded out of consciousness, he was once again touched by his Poetic Muse. “Hair…the color of…golden…treachery,” he murmured.

“God, you suck,” she replied.

When Gabriel awoke, he found himself lying on the floor in a small, windowless, and completely empty cell with walls made of smooth, nigh-indestructible titanium. In the past, he himself had put prisoners in this cell. He used to think it looked cool. Now, rubbing his sore neck, he said to himself, “This is so not cool.”

To be continued…