*********************************************************************
                            War 7 File 1
*********************************************************************

A DieHard Rides Out
By: Don Fasig - DieHard
Time: 3 or 4 days before War 7
Place: SW Florida

The black and chrome motorcycle pulled quietly into the Gas 'n Shop,
quietly for a bike of it's size and age.  It's rider, a short
compactly built man, stretched briefly before turning on the pump.

"100 miles down, 1400 to go." he mused.  "I thought I'd never get
started. Hope I'm not late.  I figure if I stay on the road 10 hours
a day - and with a little luck I'll make it."

"Man it was tough explaining to the wife why I *had* to go to
Toronto for 3 weeks........

"Don't worry, it's no big thing.  All in fun."

"But you said it's a War."

"Well, yeah, but they just call it that...really...they all say it's
loads of fun."

"You mean you don't even know?!"

"Well...not really, I mean, *I've* never done it before.  But I've
read about it."

"And why are you packing those things?!"

"What things?

"Those knives...and *things*!  You've even got your sword cane!"

"Well, ya never know.  I mean our headquarters does have a Laser
Defense System, and Security Surveillance System.  And Laura said
we'd have to defend our headquarters."

"Defend?  You said it was all in fun!  Who do you have to defend?"

"That's what we do.  Laura said we provide shelter for anybody and
act as peacemakers."

"Shelter who?"

"Uh, characters from the show?  Or members of some faction or
other...."

"YOU MEAN IT'S ALL MAKE BELIEVE?"

"Well uh...sort of.  Gotta go, love ya.  See ya in 2 or 3 weeks."

And fading behind him as he rode away -

"Two or three WEEKS! - And who's this Laura......"

The pump dinged it's message.  "Please pay inside."

Don shook himself, "Whoosh - so that's what a flashback feels like. 
Gotta be careful."  Still, it did feel good to be on the road.

*****Three days later, at DieHard HQ in Toronto...

Completely exhausted vowing to never again try to make that trip in
less than 5 days,  "Ya gotta stop and smell the roses.", he thought
as he pulled up to the guard booth.

"Don Fasig.  I'm expected."

    -   finis  -


*********************************************************************


The Lucky and the Dead (1/3)
Sat.  July 23, 1996 - Late Afternoon
Central Wisconsin
By: Partly K and The Perkulators


THUNK.

A dart embedding itself into the left eye of a large yellow smiley
face that as stuck over a dart board.

THUNK.

A second dart landed near the right eye.

THUNK.  THUNK.

Two more darts pierced the cheery sunshine yellow smile.  Partly
considered them for a second, then turned her attention back to the
computer.  She was surfing and Netscape was taking longer than usual. 
The stars behind the large stylistic N in the corner continued to move
in slow motion, and Partly got up to retrieve her feathered weapons
from their hapless target.

The yellow paper over the dart board was filled with small puncture
wounds and the black of the eyes was almost completely torn out.
Partly ripped it off the board and tossed it into the trash with four
of it's twins.  She deftly taped another on before sitting back down.

Netscape finally pulled up it's URL and Toronto Police Homepage filed
the screen.  Partly stared at it morosely.  It just wasn't fair!  She
whipped two darts into the board, their tips buried up to the wood.
She had just been getting into FK when Schanke died.  In a stupid
plane crash.  Then, just when Tracy was showing her true potential,
just when they had truly started to be friends, she had to die too.
First Screed, Urs and Vachon. Then Tracy.  Finally, disappearance of
Nick and Nat.  Sure, LaCroix was still around, but where was the
justice in that?

She quit Netscape without reading the Toronto news.  She wasn't sure
why she tortured herself like this.  She flipped on AOL and open her
mail while she played with the casino ten dollar coin that she had
setting next to her desk.  She had picked it up on Memorial Day last
May.  It was a typical coin with the Lake of the Torches Casino stamp
on one side and the special occasion collector stamp on the other.
She usually didn't keep them, but this one said:  In honor of all the
vetterns.  At the time, she had just been amused at the misprint, but
now it seems to be her last reminder of her life as a Perkulator.  It
just wouldn't be the same without Tracy.

The new mail screen came up on the computer and she almost choked on
the coffee she was drinking.  The top message was from GoodCopT,
Tracy's old AOL address.  It had only been two months since Tracy's
death, there was no way anyone should have her screen name.  Those
things took longer than that to recycle.  Her family should have
canceled her account by now, if not, AOL should have.  She put down
her coffee cup and tapped on the message.

        TO:  PartlyK
        FROM: GoodCopT
        DATE: 7/23/96
        MESSAGE:  Why didn't you tell me?

She clicked the message off and on again.  Same message.  "This is a
sick joke," she said.  If it were a joke.  But it had to be, didn't
it?  Tracy was dead and buried.  Partly had seen the news reports,
read the papers, even sent her condolences to the family.  She had
gotten a thank you note, explaining that all the money received was to
go to some charity or another.  She watched the message for a few
moments, willing it to disappear.  When it didn't, she sent it to the
printer and closed the window.  She went to the next message while the
printer spit out the short mystery.

The second message was from Kristina, the Perks' second in command.
Kristina was in Toronto right now, house sitting, and she was
wondering if Partly could make it up to see the sights and pay their
respects to Tracy. Perhaps even get all the Perks together for a
farewell party.  Partly considered this for a moment, twirling the
coin in her hand.  It was a good idea.  A party of Perks.  She smiled
at the thought.  She's love to go, if she had the money.  She looked
at the coin again.  Her mind suddenly made up, she quickly dashed off
a note to Kristina, attaching the cryptic message she had just
received.  She copied the message to the other Perks, telling them to
drop everything and plan on going up to Toronto.  She then flipped to
the travel page and arranged for plane tickets to be waiting at the
airports nearest to each Perk.  Her Mastercard was feeling warm and
she hadn't even taken it out of her purse.

Mary Chapen Carpenter came on the radio, and the song  was "I feel
lucky". It would take a whole lot of luck to pull this off, but she
had a feeling that she would make it.


*********************************************************************


The Cousins Come to Battle Stations, 1/1
by Lisa McDavid with input from Cousin Tok and Cherri Munoz

July 25th through noon of July 27th

"The Cow's in the waiting room," reported the CERK receptionist.

Such were Cousin Co-Leaders Lisa McDavid and Tok's mental states that
neither saw anything extraordinary in the message.

"Send her on up," said Lisa. She was doing things to a weird-looking
database.

"How did she know?" Tok asked, counting express envelopes and checking
off a list of Cousins' names. Cousin Merlin, a brown tabby cat, sat on
the floor at her feet. Cousin Willow tried to sit on the list and
"help" count with her little gray paw until Tok made her get down.

Lisa shrugged. "Unc -- I mean The General -- must have had some kind
of signal in last night's show. There are some things I don't want to
know about Lacroix, like how he knew the war was coming and when."

The elevator doors opened and Cousin Cherri, still glued into a cow
suit and fettered with a mooing device, stepped into the Cousins'
headquarters. Merlin immediately made a kamikaze dive for the Cow's
tail.

 "It's -- moo-- about -- moo -- time," she observed. "This --moo --
thing's -- moo -- moo -- hot." The device fell silent as Cherri sank
down onto a chair. "And I'm tired of trying to remember to go
different places all the time."

The last war had stranded Cherri in Toronto, glued into a cow suit
with a moo-toy attached to her ankle. Lacroix declined to rip it off
with his vampire strength on the ground that any Cousin who let
herself be cow-suited deserved to stay that way.

Ever since, Cherri had eked out a living as the mascot of a CERK
advertising campaign. Her picture loomed on billboards all over the
city with the caption: "CERK. Anything else is just moo-sic." The day
time dj's ran a contest in which listeners competed to be the first
caller to locate The Cow correctly.

The Nightcrawler replaced his soliliquies to Nicholas with admonitions
to The Cow. His imagery was quite poetic, if a trifle overloaded with
slaughter house and blood references.

The free publicity was endless. The Cow's attempt to order a Big Mac
in a McDonald's was taken to be an attack from Burger King. Burger
King was equally sure McDonald's was behind Cherri's request for one
of their hamburgers. Both summoned the police. Traffic tied up at
least once a day when The Cow crossed streets. Poor Cherri got enough
tickets to fill a recycling bin, at least according to the station's
copy writer.

Then came the day when she tried to look up solvents in the University
of Toronto library. The guards converged at the first moo when The Cow
entered the building. She was going quietly when several patients from
the Clark Institute, a mental hospital near the campus, who were in
the library on day passes assumed The Cow was one of their own. They
expressed solidarity by lining up across the doors and mooing too.

Students took sides, someone started throwing books, and by the time
the riot police restored order every media outlet and paper in Toronto
plus CNN was out front.

The result of a CERK conference among The Nightcrawler, Police Chief
Stonetree, the President of the Chamber of Commerce, the director of
the loony bin and of course The Cow was a warm and fuzzy agreement
which no one but the Vampire remembered signing.

The Cow remained at large.

Cousin Tok tossed the her notepad to Lisa. "Here, you read out the
names and addresses and I'll make sure they're right."

Cherri closed her eyes and settled back for a nap. "I don't envy you
two. Lacroix will have a conniption if anybody gets left out."

"I know," said Tok. "That's why we're making one more check before
they go off to Fedex."

*******************************************************************

The couriers moved out at dusk. All over the United States and Canada,
Cousins signed for packets from the International Association of
Rosebud Fanciers, containing tickets, parking vouchers and gas money
or subway tokens as appropriate. The Toronto map might have come from
any convention folder, but not the one of the sewers or the Standing
Orders from Lucien Lacroix, General, to the Toronto Irregulars, aka
The Cousins.

For the next twenty-fours hours, vacation time was suddenly taken.
Sick or dead relatives necessitated immediate attendance out-of-town.
The Cousins collectively engaged in enough creative excuse fiction for
an entire series of novels.

Shortly after midnight on the morning of July 26th, the bus from the
airport delivered the out-of-town Cousins to CERK.

"They're all here," said Tok, who had gone on plane-meeting duty.

Lisa said, "I told you nobody could miss Cherri!" in a curiously happy
tone.

Tok whipped around and stared at her, but the Cousins' outstanding
dipsomaniac had nothing in her hands. A cautious sniff failed to
detect any alcohol, let alone the ineffable scent of a Zombie
Beachcomber. Lisa was, Tok hoped, merely relieved at the success of
their plans.

"Ok, troops!" Lisa climbed onto the podium and whistled for silence.
"Welcome to Headquarters. Sleeping accomodations and bathrooms are on
the floor below this one." CERK had started life as a small
residential hotel before descending to offices en route to radio
stationhood. "We have arrangements to run a tab at several places in
the nearest blocks -- they're marked on your maps and you have meal
cards in your packets. Note that these cards are for meals and non-
alcoholic drinks only."

Several experienced Cousins snickered at this whereupon they received
Lisa's best, cold-sober Librarian's Shush full in the face and
retired, whimpering, to the back of the crowd.

"Now, then, come forward as Cherri calls your names and Tok will give
you your cell phone. Be careful with them. They've been specially
modified with a scrambler chip and the General only knows what else."

"But The General isn't telling." Lacroix had apparently materialized
at the far end of the room. Only Lisa and Tok knew that the emergency
stairs from his penthouse suit had a landing there, behind a door in
the panelling.

All heads turned. A full-grown bald eagle on Lacroix's shoulder
flapped its wings and let out a battle cry.

Merlin and Willow hid behind the phalanx of Cousins.

As the vampire strode into the center of the room, Lisa hastily added,
"This is Fred. He's our new battle mascot."

Lacroix glowered at her before turning to Anne Kohler. "This is
_Frederick_ the Great," he said. "You'll be in charge of him during
the day. You'll find he already knows who you are and that he's to
mind you. Your name's on the license as his official handler."

Anne held out her hand and the eagle, at a nod from Lacroix, settled
onto her arm. "I was missing my eagle at the zoo." She scratched the
soft feathers at Fred's neck. "He's beautiful!"

Nodding as if the compliment had been meant for him, the vampire
General stepped up to the podium and began to address his troops.


*********************************************************************


Reach Out & Touch Someone
(07/26 to 7/27, various times)

by Catherine Siemann, Melanie, Jane Credland,Cynthia Hoffman, Tara
O'Shea, Socrates (Dirk Giles), Susan M. Garrett, Lorelei Feldman, and
Croaker

CatheRaven@aol.com -- Catherine Siemann

Catherine Siemann sat in the eaves of the small room at her parents'
home that was her temporary location for the summer while she studied
for the monstrous comprehensive exam that was the next step on her
quest for the Ph.D.  Not that having to read fifty Victorian novels
was such a *rough* life, but she missed her New York City apartment,
friends and lifestyle.  Oh well.  It was only for the summer.  At
least there was e-mail, which made the relative isolation of Buffalo
seem not so lonely.  Wait, what was this? "Janette@fashion.com"
Catherine broke out into a big grin as she read the message especially
the private p.s. which said, " And make sure you dress for the
occasion -- but then, I know you will.  It *is* nice to know that some
of my followers have inherited my fashion sense."   Thank goodness
Toronto was only a 2 1/2 hour bus ride away (well, give or take an
hour in customs). Pulling out her bus schedule, and her suitcases, she
called down the stairs, "Hey mom, I have to catch a bus in an hour.
Mind driving me to the station?"  Tossing a dozen Victorian novels in
with the piles of black dresses, little and long, she staggered down
the staircase under the weight of her luggage . . . like any self-
respecting Raven/ette would.

******************
KnightCat5@aol.com (Melanie)

After receiving the mysterious email from Janette, I packed up my new
Civic (complete with a Vampire sticker) with all the Ravenette
essentials...black tight fitting dresses, hair pins, chokers and red
red lipstick and sped out of Southern CA to get to Toronto as soon as
(im)mortally possible...

***********
janes@interlog.com (Jane Credland)

The phone rang again, for the tenth time in the past half hour.  Why
did this always happen just before five o'clock.  Jane tore her eyes
away from the computer screen and glared at the offending instrument. 
At this rate, she'd never get this case conference memorandum finished
and go home.  She ignored the phone and silently wished whoever was on
the other end would just go away -- although her exact thoughts were
not that polite.  Luckily, after three rings, voice mail picked up and
she could concentrate again.

"Ms. Credland.  Ms. Credland, please."

"Shit!"  Jane swore angrily and saved what little she'd been able to
do.  "I *hate* being paged."

"There's a telegram out here for you.  The guy insists that you have
to sign for it personally."  Sarah, the receptionist at the law firm,
disconnected rapidly before Jane could object.

"Just wonderful."  Muttering angrily under her breath, Jane marched
rapidly out to reception, narrowly missing a collision with one of the
new law students.  The other secretaries just ignored her barely
audible tirade. She did exactly the same thing at least two or three
times a week; they were used to it by now.

"Jane Credland?"  The delivery man shoved a clipboard into Jane's
face. "Sign here."

She scrawled her name, tore open the telegram and stared at it.  "Now?
They have to do it now?"

Sarah glanced up curiously from the switchboard.  Unfortunately, the
phones didn't stop ringing long enough for her to ask what was going
on.

"Oh well.  I guess it's better that they do it now, while I'm still in
Toronto.  I wouldn't be able to afford the trip back anyway."  Jane
opened the door, still staring at the paper in her hand.  "Now, all I
have to do is persuade Louise to give me the time off.  Still, it's
not like they can fire me.  I've already given my notice."

"Jane?"  Sarah's voice pierced the haze of planning that had taken
over Jane's mind.  "There's a call for you."

"Take a message.  Tell them I've left.  Tell them I died."  Jane
smiled widely.  If there was a war, then the Ravens would be gathering
... all of them.

"It's Cynthia."

"Oh.. umm... is anyone using the main boardroom?"

"No.  I'll put her through in there."  Waving one hand vaguely in the
direction of the boardroom, Sarah answered the three lines that had
started to ring.

Jane closed the boardroom doors, then picked up the phone.  "Hi."

****
Cynthia Hoffman <choff@violet.berkeley.edu>

The calendar would be the end of her, Cynthia griped to herself while
sorting the mail.  30 days plus five for mailing, means if it was sent
out on July 25 they had until August 19 to respond ... and to think,
she used to believe her checkbook balance was the only unknown she had
to solve for every month.  Blast discovery anyway.

The shadow of someone leaning over her desk interrupted her internal
diatribe.  She had just launched into her automatic "the receptionist
is the desk by the door" speech when she heard:  "Telegram for Cynthia
Hoffman."

That did it.  No more docketing for now.  Her fingers and toes needed
a break anyway.  "That's me" she stated to the uniform in front of
her. "Where do I sign?"

Five minutes and two phone calls later, all that remained to show that
she had ever been at work that morning was a sticky note on her
computer screen which read:

        Emergency takes me to Toronto a week earlier than planned.
        Sorry for the inconvenience.

                                                Cynthia

The mail, along with the discovery calendar, were now someone else's
headache.  And Jane would be waiting for her at Pearson when she
landed.

-------------------

Tara O'Shea  Raven1228@aol.com

__________________________________________________

Subj:     No Subject
Date:     96-07-26 20:57:43 EDT
From:     janette@fashion.com (Janette)
To:       Raven1228@aol.com

Come to Toronto.

j

----------------------- Headers --------------------------------

"What, that's it?"  Tara grumbled.  Her clock radio, which had been
transplanted from her bedroom to the living room of her new flat since
the futon that currently served as the couch was closer to the air
conditioning unit, informed her it was 2:17 am.  The message had
arrived some six hours earlier.  Having finally switched from jeans to
nightgown and terry-cloth bathrobe, she was so looking forward to
falling into (onto) bed (the futon).

"How the hell am I going to get to Toronto?" she muttered, rubbing at
her eyes.  Since starting at the Agency, she had worked a sum total of
four full weeks in twice that time, and her funds were stretched far
past the limits of what could be called comfortable. She had spent
quite some time convincing her parents they didn't have to worry about
her.  She was a big girl, college grad and all that, it was time for
her to start acting like an adult.

So how exactly was she going to explain blowing what little monies she
had left on a five hundred dollar plane ticket?

But a summons was a summons.

"Okay, let's think about this. I can fly Air South Chicago to
Columbia, Columbia to Tampa--no, wait, they pulled out of Tampa,
dammit--" she started rationalising as she padded across the hardwood
floor towards her bedroom, and then her eye was caught by a bright red
cardboard shipping envelope perched carefully atop the bills and cds
on the dining room table.  Pouncing on it, she scanned the envelope,
but found no return address, just a shipping label, and a post-it note
from her roommate, who was crashed out in her room.

"This came around 7," Amanda had jotted down, and Tara removed the
sticker and opened the envelope carefully.  A thick envelope bearing
the familiar red maple leaf logo of Air Canada fell out into her hand,
and she shook her head, chuckling.  Snapping open the dot-matrix
printed itinerary, she scanned it while chewing on her bottom lip.

"Air Canada flight 818 departs Chicago at 5:00 pm July 27, arrives
Toronto 7:25 pm," she read aloud.  The return flight was left open.
Tapping the tickets against her palm, she couldn't help smiling.

                              * * *

As the DC-9 waited on the tarmac to be towed to the gate, Tara shifted
her carry on to her lap, pulling out her compact and studying her
reflection. Above the sand coloured silk blouse, she wore no make-up
except for lipstick.  Her brown eyes were only slightly red from lack
of sleep, behind the glasses.  She'd spent the day packing, and making
quick excuses to friends and family, and then hadn't slept a wink.
She tucked her fine black hair behind her ears, but the shortest layer
still fell forward. Her hairdresser's now half-grown-out-and-even-
decent attempt at a "Friends" cut six months earlier was actually
starting to grow on her, though occasionally she missed the Tori-red
'do'.  She hoped it wouldn't throw whoever was meeting her at the
airport for a loop.   Looking back, she realised that each time she'd
come to Toronto in the past three years, she'd been sporting a
different cut and colour.  *Just call me 'Sybil'.*

Clicking the compact shut, she pulled her customs/immigration form and
US passport from the back pocket of her blue jeans, having them at the
ready. The city beyond the window was just breathing in the first
breath of night, the sky in the west still showing streaks of fire-
touched clouds.  She couldn't help smiling as the Air Canada flight
lurched forward.

She wondered what the war would hold for her this time.

****
Departure - Socrates (Dirk Giles)

<I might as well bring in a cot and sleep here>, Socrates thought to
himself as he surveyed his task list for the next week.  <So much for
a vacation.> He was about to close the list and bring up the first
project when he noticed that the priorities were changing from high to
low and the due dates were being reset to the end of August instead of
the beginning.  Just as he was about to investigate the changes, the
New Mail Notification dialog box popped up and the sound of Janette
saying "Nicolas" the way only she can say it came from the computer
speakers.  <Probably a new task>, Socrates thought to himself as he
saw that the new mail message was from his boss.  *Your trip to the
workshop in Toronto has been approved.  Your plane tickets and car
rental information are at the receptionist's desk.  Have fun!  Jerry*

<What workshop?> Socrates thought.  Pressing the reply button, he was
about to send a message back when Notify went off again.  This time
the message was from Janette@fashion.com.  A shiver went down his
spine as he realized who the new message was from.  *Socrates, your
presence in Toronto is required.  I have made arrangements to enable
you to leave your <work>.  You know where to go.  Janette*

<Sounds like another war.  Better get going.>  The plane ticket was
for that afternoon, and he barely had enough time to pack a bag with
the necessary clothing and tools he thought would be required before
it was time to go. As he settled into his seat on the plane he noticed
that he would be arriving at his destination just after sunset.  <How
appropriate.>

**************
Susan M. Garrett (susang@vitinc.com)

Susan looked at her email box, read the message, blinked, then read it
again.  "Damn.  And I thought I wouldn't have to do this again."  But
after a quick check of her answering machine and her mailbox, she
figured out that she had no good excuse--or at least an excuse that
would be acceptable to the female vampire in Toronto who had sent the
message.

After packing everything she needed in the amazingly-large-and-death-
defying-suitcase (TM) and slinging the laptop over her shoulder, Susan
headed for the airport and the ticket she knew was waiting for her at
the Air Canada ("We get you there when and only when WE want to get
you there") desk with dread in her heart.

Not that she disliked Canada.  It was a nice place to visit--except in
the winter.  But there was a certain task that she was hoping to put
off as long as possible.  She wondered how on earth she was going to
explain to Janette just <why> she was stuck washing Nick's Caddie and
then, in a moment of sanity, realized that it was better not to think
about it.

***********
loreleif@ix.netcom.com (Lorelei Feldman)

   Lorelei downloaded her e-mail, and quickly scanned for the personal
ones. "list, list, another list... more liststuff... huh?  Janette?!" 
She opened it up and read it.  "Hey, great!  Looks like another War is
on!  How Janette manages to swing some of these things, I'll never
know; plane tickets out of Atlanta *now*, on this short notice?"  She
shook her head.  "Hey, *I'm* not complaining; *anything* to get me out
of this city for a few weeks right now! She picked up her suitcase,
still packed from her last jaunt to Chapel Hill, shoved a few more
items of black clothing and her makeup in it, grabbed up her laptop
and typing work ("gotta finish these transcripts for James") and
called the airport limo.  "If ya gotta go, go in style, of course..."
***********
Chris"Croaker" <croaker@servtech.com>

Chris was sitting at the computer, paging through ny.jobs. *How the
heck am I gonna be able to afford this semester? It's not like I'm
going to find -work- at this date....* He sighed, and paged on
through, then switched windows to his email. *Maybe someone wants to
buy the  economics book. That'd be a little cash, at least.*

There was only one email waiting for him, however, from
'janette@fashion.com'. *Janette? Oh, just -wonderful-... lemme guess,
she's either passing through, or needs a computer geek  somewhere.*
Sure enough, the message said to 'Come to Toronto'. "Well, hell. I'll
just tell mom and dad I found work in Toronto."

Then the email qweeped at him again. "What, more? Nope... not
Janette....Renimar? What's he up to? Oh... work in Toronto. They want
someone to do pascal programming? Cool... the dates are just right...
I'll have to 'borrow' the laptop, but that won't be a problem."

Within the hour, he was packed and in the car, heading for Toronto.
He'd be there before dawn. "Heck. At least I've lost weight. And the
shoppers will appreciate the car."

** Renimar is not a part of the War, he's just a friend of mine who
   lives near Toronto.


*********************************************************************


To Make a Dulcet and Heavenly Sound (1/3)
Friday August 26th/Saturday August 27th, 1996

**5:30 AM Eastern Standard Time**

Birds were chirping.

It was definitely FAR too early to be awake, or to just be arriving at
home.

A very exhausted Candice walked through the front door of her parent's
home on Long Island.  She started removing the various vestments of
the night's needs on her way up the stairs, threw the stilettos and
leather bits on the chair in front of her computer,

.......barely registering that the light on her answering machine was
blinking, and collapsed into bed.

**11:30 AM Eastern Standard Time**

...and just as his hands were sliding down the sides of her dress to
the very short hem line, the alarm went off.  Candice rose with a
bolt, breathless when she saw how late it was.

"Crap, I'm late for work!"  She rolled out of bed, threw on khaki
shorts and a tee shirt, hurled herself into her beloved Jeep, and sped
down off in the direction of New York City.

The answering machine was still blinking when she left.

**8:30 PM Eastern Standard Time**

The Jeep chugged and bounced back to it's resting place in front of
her parent's house.  She turned the car off and slumped over the
wheel, limp and tired.

Candice looked out over the hood of her car and thanked whatever god
out there was watching her -no one in white make-up had attached
themselves to the front bumper.  She could have sworn she'd knocked a
few on their collective arses when she blew her air-horn in front of
Madison Square Garden......friggin pedestrians....

"CANDI!!!  TEL-E-PHOOOONNNEE!!!" -the shout rang out over the sweet
peace and quite of the suburban neighborhood.  Apparently her little
sister, Becky, had heard the Jeep pull up when she answered the phone.
Candice groaned and grabbed her briefcase from the passenger seat, and
ran inside to grab the call.

 "Got it Bec!"

-a click on the line told Candice that her sister wasn't listening in,
so it was safe to talk.  She threw her briefcase on the counter and
headed to the fridge for a drink.

"Yeah hi, this is Candice."

"Evenin' Candice."

The voice was smooth and controled, but it wasn't anyone she
recognized. Puzzled, she started to worry.

"Who is this?..." anxiously she started to pace the kitchen floor.

"What, you mean you didn't get my messages?"  The voice sounded
slightly affronted and insulted, "I even tried calling you at work but
it seems your voice-mail is off-line."

Candice ran up the flight of steps to her room and finally noticed the
blinking answering machine.  She pressed play and her mouth went dry.

"Rr..r..Ron?...," her voice, barely a whisper.

"Heh, yup, that's me.  The one and only.  So are you coming or what?"


*********************************************************************


To Make a Dulcet and Heavenly Sound 2/3
by: Cousin Candice
time: directly after part 1

Candice stared at the phone in twitching shock.  Yes twitching.

//How could he have gotten my number?// she thought as the rest of her
mind raced, trying to figure out the details of the excuse to take a
trip to Toronto.  Her mind came to a screeching halt when she
remembered what being and employee of HBO meant:

Taking Trips To Meet Other Executives for Final Decisions on Various
Pieces.

 At least that's what her boss told her every time he went out to L.A.
and Chicago.  She picked up the phone and quite calmly said

"Yes.  Shall I meet you some place?"

Ron was just walking in the door to the Die Hard HQ.  He grinned like
a fool at the thought of asking her to meet him there -man would she
be pissed!!  His grin got even wider when his eyes traveled over the
length of the black leather couch. //Naaah, she'd like that *too*
much..//

"Hmm, tell you what.  Why don't we meet at the bar, say Monday at
midnight?"  Candice had to think for a moment.  She almost asked which
bar, but caught herself -she was almost ashamed of her stupidity.

"What bar, indeed.." she muttered on her way up the stairs to her own
room.

"What was that?"  Ron had heard what Candice said, but was in too good
of a mood to be a pester.

"Oh nothing, just trying to figure out what to pack, that's all.  So
midnight on Monday?  Sounds good, gotta go!"

<click>

Candice's heart was racing, but she was pulling things methodically
out of her closets and drawers and throwing them into her two
suitcases.  She looked over her bags one last time and threw the
leather and ..other things.. into the case when her mother walked in.

 "Can-can?  Where're you going?"

 "Oh, didn't I tell you when you were at the Pro-Shop?  Yeah, remember
I called you fom work and told you Pierre's taking me with him to
Toronto?"

"He *is*?  Oh Candi that's GREAT!  Ohmygawd, PEEETTEEERR!! CANDI'S
going away with her BOSS!!"

"Huh?" her father grunted from the kitchen.

Her mother advanced into her room and began asking all sorts of
questions but stopped when Candice gave her the Mom-I-Need-To-Get-
Going-Now Look.

"Oh," she looking a little defeated, "well then where can I drive
you?"

Candice paused again, how was she going to get there?  There wasn't a
chance in HELL she was getting on an airplane.  Ever since Flight 800
went down 2 miles south of her friend's house while she was visiting,
Candice's views of air travel and safety had decreased signifigantly.

"Umm..we're taking Amtrak up to Niagara Falls and then a limo's
meeting us and taking us right into the heart of Toronto.  So if you
could take me back to the station, I'd really appreciate it, mom."

Candice zipped up her luggage, threw her newly aquired dagger and
knife (family heirlooms) into her backpack, strapped her bokken to her
bag (hey, you never know when you'll need a good wooden sword...) and
climbed into the minivan.

As soon as she said her goodbyes to her mother, Candice pulled out her
new Nokia (the old one got smashed by a hard drive ..don't ask) and
speed-dialed Stu at the office on 42nd and 6th.

"Yeah."

"Hey Stu, s'me Candi."

"Oh hey Candi!  I was just thinking about you..."

"Yeah I'll just bet you were ya dirty ole man.  Listen I'd love to
make you all hot and bothered, but I don't have the time now -can you
do me a larger than life favor?"

"Well, there's no one left on the floor to incriminate me, so shoot."

"Can you book me on the next Amtrak to Niagara Falls, book me a room
in some hotel in Toronto and maybe wire me a little cash there?"

The desperation in her voice must have come through with the added
strain of timing, because Stu started babbling into the phone about
trouble and parents etc. etc. etc.  Candice started making her way
through Penn Station for the first time that day, pushing past stoned
teenagers, beggars, and other commuters and remembered why she had
started driving into the city.

"No, no Stu, I swear it's nothing like that at all.  Really.  I just
didn't have the time to make arrangements for myself for this
particular meeting -it was kinda last minute."

"Well do you have the lap-top from here with you?"  Stu had calmed a
little and had picked up the other line that ran into his office.  He
dialed Amtrak and started making the transaction over the touch-tone
phone -the only good thing about automated answering these days was
ticket reserve.

"Yeah I've got it in my backpack, along with the sketches for the ad."

Stu hung up the other line.  "Alright, you're set -and I'm having a
car meet you at the station, no if's and's or but's, am I understood
young lady?"

Candice stopped laughing long enough to thank Stu and mutter something
about wanna-be fathers.  "I'll e-mail you when I get there, alright
Pops?"

"Heh, do that -I'll feel better about you not being at your so-called
meeting that way."

Candice arrived at the ticket window, got her pass and headed for the
train.

"Thanks again, Stuart, really.  I'll call.  Bye."

<click>


*********************************************************************


Knight of the Living Dead
by Catherine Boone and Perri Smith

Part One

July 27, 1996 -- 12:01 a.m.
Approx. two months after Last Knight
Pasadena, California


"Oh my dear lord.  What the hell is that?"

"What?"

"That."

"That? Oh, that's LJC after the Ton o' Tuna incident in New York,
during the third war."

"Ah, so that's the famous Ton o' Tuna, huh?  Dang, and here I thought
that story couldn't get any more impressive... What about this?"

"Oh. That's the Cousins after LJC's revenge. You can see a couple
Knighties snickering in the background."

"Silly String? Hah! I love it!"

"Yup. Cool, no?"

"Cool, yes! Wish I'd thought of it. And this?"

"Ummmm.... oh, that's all of the Knighties at the premiere of that
episode we sabotaged, fourth war. There's Nick in the middle, hiding."

"Uh... looks more like you're the one hiding, dear."

"Yeah, well, that too. Most of us were hiding at that point."

"Hey, here's everyone cleaning up the loft after the NatPack trashed
it."

"And here's everyone cleaning up the loft after the Cousins trashed
it."

"And here's everyone cleaning up the loft after the Knighties trashed
it. I think we did the best job, don't you?"

"Oh, absolutely.  The s'mores in the carpet were an inspired touch.
It's a wonder Nick didn't kill us himself.  He looked like he was
going to."

"Nah, he'd put too much effort into saving us."

"True. Fortunately."

Cath and Perri stopped talking suddenly and shared a long silence
before they turned the last page in the photo album. At the top was
the picture of the two of them at the airport with Nick, grinning like
fools and  hugging him goodbye, at the end of the fifth war.  Then
there were the  clippings from the Toronto Sun, already starting to
yellow. 'Police Detective, Coroner Missing.' 'Double Disappearance
Follows Death of Officer; Police Suspect Foul Play.' 'No Leads in
Disappearance; Detective, Coronor Presumed Dead.'

"I wish we'd known, last time..." Perri sighed, touching one of the
clippings lightly.

"That it would be the last time?" Cath echoed the sigh and smiled
sadly at her own face, only a few short months ago. "I don't." She
turned her make sure Perri wasn't watching her, and bit her lip.  "I
don't think I would've been able to leave... y'know?"

"Yeah. Me neither. But we had a helluva dance while it lasted." Perri
closed the photo album gently and stretched out on the floor of Cath's
apartment. It had been a bad couple of months for losing friends, she
reflected, fighting back tears. "This really sucks. Bad enough that he
lets everyone in Toronto think he's dead, but then he leaves without
even saying good-bye..."

"Yeah. He could have at least told us he was okay, that he was
leaving, something, *anything*."

"And he *is* okay."

Cath hesitated a tiny moment.  "Right. He's fine. Just *really*
inconsiderate."

Perri noticed, but ignored it through long practice.  They both knew
how the other felt, as well as the fact that either could be right,
and that odds were that neither would ever find the truth. *Are we a
couple of  Mulders, or what?*  She grinned weakly at the thought.
"Absolutely."

The phone rang just them, jolting them out of the silence before it
could become another in their long string of self-pity marathons.
"It's probably Dianne," Cath said, grabbing it before any of her
housemates could. "Knightie Angst Central."

"Catherine?"

Perri watched her friend's eyes widen. The phone slipped out of numb
fingers as Cath continued to stare blankly at her. She sat up,
watching with concern, waiting for Cath to say something.  But all she
did was tear her eyes from her face to the receiver on the floor,
looking at it as if she expected it to come to life, or something.

Little did Perri know that that was *exactly* what Cath was waiting
for. Phones coming to life? Hell, why not?  Everything else was.

Suddenly she realized Perri was waiting for her to say something.  She
pointed accusingly at the phone, and tried a tirade, but all that came
out was "N--N--."

"Cath?"

Perri's question came at the same time as the voice on the phone. Cath
was still voiceless; Perri, losing patience, took the phone from her.
"Who the hell is this?" she demanded.

"Perri? Good, you *are* there -- your parents said you would be."

Perri felt the blood drain from her face, leaving her as white as
Catherine, but slightly more coherent. "Ni-- Nick?"

"Yeah, it's me. Look, I know it's been a while, but..."

Both of the women got their voices back at about the same time, with
about the same initial reaction. Which was still mostly incoherent,
but quite vehement. On the other end of the line, Nick jerked the
phone away from his ear before their joint howls of rage could break
his eardrum. He'd been right, he thought calmly. They were upset.

He waited for them to calm down, knowing it wouldn't take too long.
Cath kept time with Perri as she flew through French and Russian,
started  repeating herself in German, and finally stuck to English
while Perri switched without warning into something that sounded like
Spanish, but Cath couldn't say for sure.

Nick sat patiently through it all, but when at last Cath was starting
to sound pretty breathless and Perri was sounding like she would break
into Pig Latin at any moment, he decided enough was enough.

"Perri! Catherine!" he yelled.

They stopped. After a short scuffle on the other end, there was the
click of another extension being picked up and they were all on the
line. Both women decided to stick to stony silence, leaving Nick to
speak first.

"So you two are, uh, pretty mad at me, huh?"

*Gee, Nick, do ya think?* Cath saw the muscles in Perri's jaw start to
work. "Yeah," she said hastily, before Perri could explode again. "We
thought you were gone, Nick.  Maybe even dead. You didn't even tell us
you were leaving." Not a little accusation crept into her own voice.

"I know, I'm sorry. Things were... a little confused."

"It wasn't exactly skittles and beer for us either, thinking we were
never going to see you again," Perri said, her voice tight. "This was
not fun, Nick."

"I know." He was at least sounding guilty, Cath noticed, raising her
eyebrows at Perri. Perri nodded -- she heard it too. "I promise I'll
explain everything to both of you -- to all of you -- but I... need a
favor, first."

The two exchanged glances again, their shared brain kicking in out of
sheer habit. The message was something along the lines of '...cold day
in hell.' "What's the favor?" Perri sing-songed sarcastically.

Nick winced. "I need you to go to Toronto. I... left something in the
loft that's very important and I need you two to get it and send it to
me. When you do, I'll promise I'll explain everything."

Cath's eyebrows lifted. "You let us spend two months thinking you're
gone and running up huge long distance bills so we could cry on each
other's shoulders, wonder if you're all right, and  why you didn't
care enough to to make one lousy phone call to us. Then you *do* call,
calmly inform us you're fine, and ask us to go to Toronto for you. And
we should do this because....?"

Nick sighed audibly. This was going to be even harder than he'd
thought. "Because I need a favor and the Knighties are the only ones I
can trust. There's no one else I can go to."

Perri and Catherine winced simultaneously -- guilt worked both ways.
"Why can't you go?" Perri demanded, taking the offensive back.

"I have reasons to avoid Toronto right now," Nick said grimly.
"Please, will you two go? I'll pay your plane tickets, of course."

"Of course," the women echoed, exchanging a last set of looks. "What
is wrong with this picture?" Cath complained quietly.

"Probably that we're going to do it," Perri muttered, conceding
defeat.


*********************************************************************


Ear-li In The Morn-ing
by Catherine Boone
catheboo@cco.caltech.edu

5am, the 27th.
NOTE: the post before this, A Crusade of Knighties, has been moved
from 10am to 2am.  (So we don't proofread well.  Sue us.)

After three hours of sleep, Catherine was dragged kicking and
screaming back to consciousness by the sound of some godawful racket
coming from the window.  Without even cracking an eye, she listened
for a moment. Nope, not Nick.  The boy may snore, but he at least
doesn't span three octaves when he does it.  This was much more the
cat-mutilation sound, rather than the earthquake sound.  Which means
that it actually deserved investigation, rather than just opening the
blinds till the sounds stopped.  *Dammit.*

Catherine hauled herself off the floor of the loft, getting only
slightly tangled up in her sleeping bag in the process, and stumbled
out to the window, stepping gingerly over Perri.  *Well, one of us
should get our sleep.  Not good for both halves to be zonked at the
same time.*

As she peered out the window, Courtney appeared from behind her.  "I
think they're actually trying to play something."  She looked
dubiously over Catherine's shoulder at the leather-clad and heavily
painted group creating their own little wall of noise.

Catherine smiled, still watching them.  "Are you sure?  Besides, I
thought you liked this kind of music."

Courtney looked heavily disgusted.  "Don't even *try* to equate Nine
Inch Nails to those.. people down there.  Trent Reznor is cool."

"Hey, Trent *is* cool.  Who says different?" Suzanne came up behind
them, rubbing her eyes.

"I say.  Is that what that racket is?"  Scottie sat up on her mattress
in the center of the floor.

"No."  Catherine smiled at Courtney as Suzanne started explaining the
finer points of Nine Inch Nails to Scottie.  Suddenly, her brain
engaged the fact that it was about five in the morning.  "What are you
doing up, anyway?"

"My first meeting is in a few hours, so rather than try to get up at
seven, I just chugged some Dew when everyone else went to bed, and
started going through the more interesting stuff on Nick's shelves.  I
figure I'll crash sometime around noon, after the conference is done
for the day."

"Courtney, you have the most psychotic sleep schedule."  She couldn't
help chuckling.  "Have you cleaned him out yet?"

"Nope.  First guy I've ever actually met who has more books than me." 
A particularly discordant blast assaulted them, and Courtney turned
back with a grimace to look down at the alley below them.  "So, are
you gonna do anything about these losers, or do I have to pull out the
earplugs when I get back?"

Catherine looked slyly at Courtney, then at the small group of
Knighties looking either sleepy or annoyed, depending, then at the
band in the alley.  "You got some extra sets of those earplugs?" she
asked innocently.

Courtney wasn't even beginning to be fooled, as she glanced
apprehensively at her friend.  "Yeah, I could only find them at Trader
Joe's, extra-humungo economy size... why?"

"Coolness.  Be back in a sec."  Catherine grinned and promptly walked
out into the elevator, still clad only in her extra-long nightshirt,
and sent it down.  Now curious, Courtney watched her tromp right up to
the lead singer, one hand over her ear, the other making a cutting
motion across her throat.  They spoke for a moment, then the singer
nodded warily.  Catherine brightened considerably, and was talking
animatedly for a little while.  The singer looked uncertain, then
Catherine suddenly pointed up at the window, where Courtney was
looking out.

Courtney waved, and she knew it was too late to dive out of sight.  So
she gritted her teeth and hesitantly waved back, while the rest of the
band joined in.  The only thing she could think was *What on earth is
she doing?*, quickly followed by *and how soon can I kill her?*

"What on earth is she doing?" Scottie looked over Courtney's shoulder,
giving a little wave of her own.

Courtney shook her head.  "If I knew, I would have stopped her before
she left."

Catherine jogged back to the warehouse entrance, carefully avoiding
the broken glass of the alleyway.  Just as she opened the elevator
door, mere moments before Courtney attacked her for her little
display, the band started up in its next song.

Well, they weren't Trent Reznor, but hey, they tried hard, she'd give
them that.

Apparently they were good enough to satisfy Courtney, anyway, as a
huge grin spread across her face, and she raced back to the window to
watch happily.  They even got some of his performing right.  Kinda.
Suzanne gave a little cry of joy, and said trimphantly to the room at
large, "*That* is Nine Inch Nails."

Catherine looked to Courtney, and mouthed "eaplugs?" over the din.
The other nodded, and dug a packet out of her bag.  Catherine calmly
passed around earplugs to those who were still awake, a few politely
declining, not wanting to miss a live concert of NIN, even if it was
only impersonators.

Courtney looked back to Catherine, who was busy brushing the dirt off
her feet before she crawled back in her sleeping bag.  "Thanks,
Catherine."

"I figured you'd like something a little more tolerable to keep you
awake till you have to leave."  She smiled.  "Just keep the moshing in
the kitchen, okay?"

Courtney looked offended.  "I do *not* mosh."

Suzanne winked, "I do," and hopped off to the kitchen, already
bouncing to the rhythm.

Catherine's smile just got wider as she watched Suzanne, then turned
back to Courtney.  "Right.  Well, don't let any of the countertops
leap up and bash you in the forehead then.  Cool?"

"Cool.  See you tomorrow."

"G'night."  Catherine had learned a long time ago how to sleep through
Trent, even without earplugs, and was out like a light.


*********************************************************************


Knight of the Living Dead (2/3)
by Cath Boone and Perri Smith

Toronto, Quebec
July 27, 1996, 6:53 a.m.

The elevator door slid open easily, despite the fact that it hadn't
been opened in more than a month. Fortunately, no one had bothered to
change the code on the lock -- either Perri or Cath could punch it in
blindfolded.

All of the furniture was still in place, from the leather couch to the
refrigerator, but someone had covered everything with sheets. The same
someone had tried to clean up the fingerprint dust, but black residue
still clung to almost every surface.

"Myra?" Perri guessed out loud.

"Probably. We'll have to see if we can check on her, tell Nick how she
and Jenny are doing." She decidedly avoided the concept of Natalie.

"Yeah." Both of them knew the only reason for the conversation was to
keep from having to go into the loft, but they ran out of banal things
to say. They took the first step in.

Perri tried a light switch, but the power was off; the only
illumination came from the sunlight sneaking through the dirty
skylight. "Tell me again why a vampire has a skylight?"

Cath shrugged -- it was an age-old question they were never going to
get answered. "Probably for the same reason he has a stove. Do you
think the remote will work?"

"Not if the power's off." Perri rumaged in one of her bags and pulled
out the flashlights, tossing one across the room for Cath to catch.
"Come on, let's start looking."

"It'd be bad news if the cops found it when they were searching."

"Don't even think it -- besides, he said it was hidden."

"Right."

They knew most of the hiding places in the loft, and Nick had revealed
a few more on the phone. Behind the paintings (Perri winced away from
the blood on the huge sun painting she had always loved), in the
cubbyhole beside where the entertainment center had been, in the false
panel underneath the bar. The search took two hours -- with no results
except the discovery of a colony of dustbunnies under Nick's bed and a
spare set of keys to the Caddy.

"Well, hell." Perri stood in the center of the room, swinging her
flashlight around as if she's spot their goal laying on top of a table
or counter. "Dammit, how many places can you hide one little black
book?"

"It's a brown book."

"Don't get technical."

"Actually, since it's got all his bank numbers in it, it should be a
green book."

"It's got phone numbers in it, too."

"Whatever." Cath collapsed on the still-covered couch with a heavy
exhale. The couch squeaked underneath her weight. "We've torn this
place apart, where else could it be?"

Perri sprawled next to her. "Maybe the cops got it. We'll have to go
to the station and find out."

Cath laughed. "Oh, and they're just going to hand police evidence over
to us?"

Perri let her head roll onto the back of the couch. "Remember how many
times we called the station last war -- half the cops there know our
voices. And Amy and I got introduced to Tracy as friends of the family
-- Nick said he used the same cover to explain all those APB's to
Reese. We might be able to pull it off."

"Yeah, maybe." Cath didn't sound convinced. "I always wanted to know
what Nick kept in his desk anyway."

"Good. Let's take the Caddy, we need to search it anyway."

"Man, Nick's going to regret leaving those keys."

***********

Toronto Police Department, 96th Precinct
Same day,10:31 a.m.

"I can't believe Reese bought it."

"I can," Perri grinned somewhat guiltily. "That nice man was so
relieved to find out Nick actually had friends who missed him, he
would have let us in if we were green and scaly. Besides, we *are* the
only family Nick's got, unless you count LaCroix or Janette. Which I
don't."

"True. Want this box or that one?"

"That one."

They tore neatly into the boxes of evidence; Reese had asked them to
be careful since the investigation was still ongoing, but he hadn't
sounded like he had much hope of solving the case. Both of them had
had to fight back to urge to tell him Nick was alive; both had
resisted the impulse.

"Let's see, here's the picture of LaCroix, here's a plaque or
something --oh, Lord, it's the Partners of the Month plaque. Oh,
here's a notebook --nope, it's a spiral." Cath flipped through it
quickly, paused at one page and gaped.  "Good *lord*!" At Perri's
questioning glance, Cath snapped shut the spiral and said only,
"Remind me never to buy an old Cadillac.  I could practically live on
what that man spent on gas."

"Old case file, computer disks, tea bags -- tea bags? Must have been
Natalie."

"Paper, paper, electric bill -- this explains why there's no power --,
note from Tracy, more paper, form he never got around to filling out
from the Blackwing case--"

"Don't mention that name to me. Ick, what's this?"

"I think it used to be coffee."

"What'd he do, keep the same cup filled with the same coffee for six
years?"

"Smells like." Cath finished with her box and replaced the lid.
"Nothing but junk."

"Nada," Perri concluded. "Where are the evidence boxes from his
apartment?"

"Reese said they were around here somewhere." It took them less than a
minute to locate the boxes, and half an hour to go through them. The
only thing they accomplished was Perri breaking a nail.

"What now?" Cath asked with a defeated sigh.

Perri shrugged, examining her nail with a disgusted expression that
didn't quite hide her concern. "Beats me. Where else is there to
look?"

"The Raven? The church? The possibilities are almost endless."

"We can't even stick our noses in the church without being spotted,
much less the Raven. And there's no way we can cover any kind of
ground with only the two of us."

"So we yell for help. Discreetly. Nick's going to kill us, though."

"Your point being?"

Cath considered. "Right. Let's go."

"The phone at Nick's place is turned off, same as the electric and the
water."

"Payphone, payphone... oh man, let's just go to the Happy Souvlaki,
the FoDs don't have anything against us."

"Yet."


*********************************************************************


Fashionably Late, As Usual (1/1)
(Subtitled: Cousin Will Stumbles Into...Quebec?)

Saturday, July 27, 1996, 7:00 a.m.
Toronto, ONTARIO ... which is still in Canada, the last time that I
checked. :-)


The radio woke him up with a start.

"What the devil...?", Cousin Will tried unsuccessfully to mumble to
himself, only to realise that he was still too tired to speak, much
less *think* that particular thought.

<Now why in GOiD's name did I wake up this early?>.  He stumbled
around, found his official Rameses Shriners' Sauu Nessu Unit day timer
calendar <what a mouthful!>, and fingered through the pages... <July
27, now where is that...?>

"OH GOOD HEAVENS!", he yelped!  "I have to meet Cousin Julie at the
airport at 10:00am!".

Flying (so to speak) out of his room, he rushed to the kitchen and
inhaled his Quaker Oatmeal in less than two minutes.  The next stop
was the bathroom, whereupon he even broke his usual habit of taking
forever in the shower <"See Mommy, I even wash behind my ears",
suddenly remembering his childhood>.  Seconds later, it was back to
the bedroom to dress up.

"OH NO!!!  IT'S NINE O'CLOCK ALREADY!?!?!?!?" <...but I just got out
of bed a minute ago>.  Convinced that the Time Lords were out to get
him and that no matter how early he got up, he'd always be running
late, he continued his morning flight into the err, cockpit of his
brand new Chevy Corsica.  <Geez, I was never this concerned with cars
when I had my Buick...?  Waaaah!  I miss my Buick!>.  Of course, the
damn thing had almost *killed* him when it finally gave out - to wit:
part of the engine *blew up* - but he missed his beloved Subversive
Black Buick Century anyway.

In seconds, Cousin Will was off...thankfully, the Saturday morning
traffic had been merciful.  Even Highway 401 near the massive
construction near Dixon Road didn't slow him down too much <Whew!>.
Within minutes, he arrived at the airport and was pulling his car into
yet another expensive parking spot.  <Ugh!>.

"OH DAMN, IT'S TEN AFTER TEN!!", Will blurted out, seeing the display
on his car radio as he was about to pull his key from the ignition.
<Oh no, those people over there heard me and are looking at me
funny...I really have to do something about this habit of talking to
myself...at least I haven't gotten any answers from myself yet>.  He
smiled with that peculiar smile that only comes naturally to Cousins.

His heart was beating at a thousand miles per second, but he knew that
there would be no rest until he found his fellow Cousin.  He sprinted
through a door into the arrivals level, hoping that he had gone into
the right section.  Miracle of miracles, he saw a woman carrying a
sign saying "Cousin Julie".  He rushed over, quickly introduced
himself, and promptly fell over, panting.

"Hey, what took you so long, Cuz? It's 11:30!"  She looked a little
bit miffed, but was still happy to meet a fellow Cousin.

"You're (pant) kidding, it's (pant) 11:30...but (pant) it was 10:10
when (pant) I found my parking spot...(pant, pant)  Somebody must
(pant) be stealing time or something, good grief!", Will managed to at
least whisper.

"Hey you, take a rest for a minute, then we'll get going."

Two minutes later, Will had managed to stop panting. "Okay, let's be
off".

Just as they were about to walking out of the arrivals area, Cousin
Julie spotted another sign:


"KNIGHTIES MEET HERE.

PERRI AND BOO WELCOME YOU TO TORONTO, QUEBEC".


<Toronto, Quebec?>  Will whispered: "Hey Cousin Julie, put your Cousin
sign away - let's take a look at this!".  Walking over, Will noticed
that nobody was minding the sign.  <That's strange...>.  He then took
a closer look at the sign, and to his horror, he spotted an
inscription in small letters:

"Vive le Quebec Libre!  Vive le Canada dans le Quebec Libre!".
(Long Live a Free Quebec!  Long Live Canada in a Free Quebec!")


Will's face turned pale white.

"What is it, Will?  What is it?", Julie asked, horrified.

"We have to get out of here!  This is too terrible for words!".


Back in Will's car, Julie asked, "What was that all about?".

Will replied, face still deathly pale ... "It all fits together
now...Le Parti Quebecois, Le Bloc Quebecois, and now Perri and
Catherine ... it's terrible.  We have to stop them..."

"What are you talking about, Will?"

"The Knighties...We have to stop the Knighties.  They're plotting to
take over Canada for Quebec.  Their first target is Toronto.  THEY
MUST BE STOPPED!!!"


*********************************************************************


I Love it When Plan B Comes Together

by Kelly S. Gritten, Jill Kirby, Jamie Melody Randell, Jaime Kohles,
and Jennie Hayes.


"I think we've got a problem,"  Karen's voice sounded rather worried.

Amy sat up, almost pulling the phone off the table.  "What problem?"

"I just saw a couple of Knighties on the street.  They were headed
into the precinct.  They're the ones you and Jennie have all the
pictures of."

"Knighties we have lots of pictures of?  Hmmm...must be Perri..." Amy
mused, "and maybe Scottie?"

"I'm not sure, but they looked like they meant business," Karen
replied, "and if their business interferes with our...project, it
could be *big* trouble."

"Thanks.  We're just getting ready to move our stuff to the 'Natpack
hostel', as Lynn has already started calling it.  Maybe you can head
over there after work?  We need to meet and talk about this,"  Amy
said decisively.

"OK, will do.  See you later!"

Amy hung up the phone and turned to Jennie.  "We have trouble,
possibly. Karen just saw a couple of Knighties downtown.  She's not
sure which ones they are, but they looked like they were on business,
and they were heading into the precinct."

"Oh, oh.  We don't want anything to possibly draw attention to our
activities, I hope they don't cause too much of a ruckus.  Maybe
they're just up here to look for Nick, and since he's not around, they
might leave right away again,"  Jennie suggested hopefully.

"And maybe pigs will fly,"  Amy shot back.  "You don't really think
that, do you?  It's horribly optimistic, even for you!"

Jennie sighed.  "Plan B?"

"I think that might be wise.  We put it in place for a reason, after
all. This might just be it.  And it can't hurt.  We don't really have
to do this for much longer, anyhow."  Amy pointed out.

"OK, I'll get my address book and get started.  Can you find the
others and let them know?"  Jennie asked.

Amy signed 'OK' and headed down the dormitory hallway towards the
other Natpackers' rooms.

Jennie dug in her purse and found her little book, then began dialing.
"Sharon?  Hi.  It's time - there are Knighties snooping around town.
We're putting out the call.  Can you make it?"

*****

Location: Jaime's house, Salt Lake City, UT
Time: Saturday, July 27  1:30 pm

Jaime was already on the phone planning her next "let's go out and
dance with strangers" night with her best friend, Kayleen, when the
call waiting clicked.

"Hang on, Kay, I've got another call.  Hello?"

"Jaime?  It's getting crowded up here with suspiciously familiar
faces.  I think we're gonna need help."

"Oh, my God.  I'll be there in a few hours. How many groups have
already arrived?"

"We've seen Knighties, but we checked around and several members of
other factions seem to be missing so I expect we may be seeing
Cousins, Mercs and Vaqueros as well.  And Perkulators.  Becky
apparently headed out on a trip today."

"Then I'd best hurry.  Make sure there's room for me wherever we're
staying.  See you in a few."

<click>

"Kay?  Gotta go, there's trouble.  I'll keep you posted."

And with that Jaime hung up the phone and made a beeline for the
airport.

*****
Jamie MR, the Webgoddess and Listmommy, stepped out of her golden
chariot... actually, it was a Toronto streetcar; she missed the last
step, stumbled and fell half a foot to the ground.

"Owch," she commented, examining the scraped patches on her knees.

She limped up Yonge Street to the Second Cup, ordered herself a large
cappucino, spent the next ten minutes heaping brown sugar and cream
and cinnamon into the drink, then seated herself at one of the outdoor
tables. Listening to a street musician play rock music, she lit a
cigarette and inhaled happily, then began to clean and bandage her
knees with the first-aid supplies she'd picked up at the drugstore
along the way.

In the last few weeks, she'd gone coast-to-coast riding the Dawg,
visiting friends from one side of the U.S. to the other, and though it
had been a lovely trip, she'd never quite recovered; she was tired, a
little dizzy, definitely somewhat frayed around the edges.

But she was in Toronto.  And that was cool.

She sipped at her cappucino happily, occasionally pausing to lick foam
off the end of the straw.


*********************************************************************


Knight of the Living Dead (3/3)
by Cath Boone, Perri Smith and the Knighties

Toronto, Quebec -- The Happy Souvlaki Deli
July 27, 1996, 12:00 p.m.

*****

The ring of the phone echoes through the stable; Marg got it by the
second one.

"Marg? It's Cath. Can you meet us at the loft in a few minutes?"

Marg blinked. "The loft? What are you doing...?"

"Meet us there and we'll explain!"

Marg shrugged. "I'll be there in an hour."

*******

Sandra was reading her downloaded email when the phone rang. She
picked it up and said, "Hello?"

"Sandra?  It's Perri."

Sandra clutched the phone a bit tighter and frowned slightly. Perri
Smith?  Why was she calling?  They hadn't had much contact since the
last war and none since Nick...  She blinked. But all that came out of
her mouth was a perplexed, "Yeah?"

"How soon can you get to the loft?"

"Nick's loft?"

"Of course, Nick's loft."

"I don't understand.  Isn't he...?"  She couldn't say the word *dead*.

"No, of course not.  Can you come?"

Sandra let out a huge breath.

"Sandra?  You okay?"

"Yeah.  I'm just glad I was sitting down."  She sighed and then said,
"I'll have to make some arrangements for taking care of Amanda and get
back to you.  But I'll try to get there as soon as I can."

*****

Marcia was getting ready to go on-line when the phone rang, almost
startling her out of her upholstered rocking chair. "Hello," she
answered it, retrieving her track ball with her other hand.

"Marcia? It's Cath."

"Cath, hi, what's up?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you. The short version is that we
heard from Nick, you were right, he's fine, but he needs us in
Toronto. Can you come?"

Marcia thought about it for all of three seconds. "Who'll meet me at
the airport?"

"Marg. See you at the loft."

******

"Katrinka? How soon can you come to Toronto?"

Katrinka studied the pile of work in front of her, calculated how far
she could push her professor, and decided. "Tonight."

"Good." Cath hung up and Katrinka instantly dialed the phone again.
Time to call in that trip her uncle kept offering...

******

"Scottie? It's Perri."

Scottie sat down. "Let me guess. Another war."

"Please God, I hope not," Perri sighed, "but with our luck, it will
be. How soon can you get to Toronto?"

"As long as no one bricks me into my house, I should be there tonight.
Is Nick paying?"

"Natch."

*******

"Amy, stop playing with your nephew and get to Toronto."

*******

Courtney sighed as she stared at her computer screen. "Stupid *@#!!
array processing!" she muttered darkly.  Her Matlab program was being
particularly uncooperative today.  She was just about to spitefully
give the hp workstation a good thump when the phone rang.  "Drat!"

She frantically searched though drifts of papers that had accumulated
on her desk. "Where is the darn thing?"  She climbed over a pile of
textbooks and found the phone hidden on its side behind an obsolete
circuit board.

"Hello, this is Courtney..."

"Courtney!!! Hey, you need to come to Toronto!"

"Uh...Catherine? Is that you?"

"Yup!  Come to Toronto!  Come... *come* to Toronto..."  she repeated
in her best spooky ghost voice.

"What? Why?"  Courtney managed.

"Well, um, you can, ah, see the sights!" she grinned.  "Yeah."
Catherine was sick of repeating the same thing over and over to
various Knighties, so she was drawing things out a little.

There was a brief silence on Courtney's end of the phone, and then she
said in her best Norwegian accent, "See the loveli lakes..."

It was Catherine's turn to say, "What?"

"The wonderful telephone system..." Courtney continued.

Catherine began to grin.

"And mani interesting furry animals..."

The grin turned into giggles.

"Including the majestik moose..."

Catherine was laughing helplessly.

"A moose once bit a vampire..."

Catherine fell off her chair, a vision of Nick being chomped on by a
moose causing her to lose the last shreds of her composure.

"No realli!  He was Karving his initials..."

Catherine was on the floor, laughing uncontrollably and banging her
head against the wall softly.  Perri, noticing that by this time
absolutely every eye in the Deli was focused on the payphone in the
corner, decided to come to her friend's rescue.  She walked over and
shook her head sadly as she looked  at Catherine.  "Things haven't
even  started yet and you're already cracking up."

Catherine pointed at the phone swinging from its cord, still giggling.
Perri could hear a faint voice coming out of it, saying "Mynd you,
moose bites Kan be pretty nasti..."

Perri picked up the phone.  "Now that you've incapacitated Cath,
here's what's going on..."  Catherine had managed to recover by the
time Perri finished talking to Courtney and hung up. Perri turned to
Catherine. "She's coming. Turns out she has a radar and remote sensing
conference up in Toronto right about now anyway, so her advisor  can
pay for her trip."  Catherine nodded, not quite trusting herself to
speak yet for fear of giggles, and went back to the phone.  What shall
I say to the next Knightie? she thought. A smile spread across her
face,  and she began giggling softly again.  "Wi not trei a holiday in
Toronto  this year?" she muttered, picking up the phone.

*******

"Allison, got air in your tires?"

"Yes."

"Good. How long will it take you to get to Toronto?"

Allison leaned over and snagged a map. The loft was less than an
hour's bike ride from the west side of Toronto, where she was working
on the route for the upcoming charity bike tour." "Not long. What's
up? Is it Nick? Trouble?"

"Too *damn* much, yes, and of course."

*********

"But the Olympics are on!"

"Karin, you can watch them here!"

"Well... all right. For Nick."

"Great. And bring cookies."

*********

"Well, they're coming."

"They are indeed."

"You sure this was a good idea?"

"No. But we have to find that book before anyone else does, or we
really *will* be toast."

"But LaCroix--"

"-- probably isn't even in the city anymore; Nick's just being
paranoid. Anyway, who's going to know we're here?"

"Get real! With this many Knighties, after about three hours the
entire city will know we're here."

"....This was definitely a bad idea."

**********

Okay, Nick's alive, the Knighties are en route and we're sure the rest
of you are already making evil and devious plans. Go to it. <g>


*********************************************************************


How Do You Solve a Problem Like the Merc Guild?
   by Dianne la Mercenaire <Cat.Goddess@pobox.com>
      (Duly Elected Grand High Poohbah of the Forever Knight
       Mercenary Guild, with the aid and on the behalf of the
       20 Merc participants in this, the Seventh FKFIC War.)

[takes place after night of the Living Dead (3/3) ...and before
everything else ;-]




A War had begun, and Merc Central was once again open for business. As
usual, being Mercs-- the only affiliation who followed the Wars
themselves instead of a single figure in them-- they knew it was
coming. They had for some time. It was simply in their blood and in
their bones.

(Oh O.K., it tended to feel more like a slight dizziness and mild
gastric upset, but does that sound _nearly_ as good?)

They were already arriving. Not knowing yet what the conflict actually
was, they nonetheless gathered instinctively at the first hint of
blood in the water....

-+*+-+*+-+*+-+*+-+*+-+*+

Sara was putting the finishing touches on Merc Central. As designated
Merc House Mommy, she not only got to charge rent (we *are* Mercs,
after all!), but she had final say over the accommodations.

But for someone with such power over life, death, and cramped muscles,
she was quite modestly plumping the pillows and making sure there
would be plenty of sweet rolls in the morning and pizza in the
afternoon... keeping the hot tub clean and on... making sure the
coffee pot is working _perfectly_....

-+*+-+*+-+*+-+*+-+*+-+*+

*Mmm, now _this_ is the life,* Abby thought to herself as she leaned
back in Dianne's chair. She swiveled around a couple of times before
she got down to business. The office was perfect. Especially the
window with the view of... Now _why_ are they doing that in public???
*Eeew, I didn't need to see that!*

The computer called to her. It was time. She opened up Windows. *Macs
are better. Macs are better. Macs are better. Windows is evil...*
Hooking into telnet, Abby sent Dianne a message.

_________________
To:  Leavin' on the midnight train <Cat.Goddess@pobox.com>
CC:  You down with the MMG? <VQRW76A@prodigy.com>
Subject:  Spies 'r Us

Hi all.

Due to the delicate nature of spying, I won't be staying at Merc
Central. I'd hate to have the other factions retaliate here. I'll
still be working at the store, but my hours will vary.

When you need me, I'll be around.

ps. Dianne, nice office! But that lock needs work.<g>

abby
albrecht@usc.edu
_________________

Abby sent the message and logged off. She knew she should be going
before anyone caught her, but Minesweeper was calling to her. After
winning and adding her name to the top of the scores, she left.

-+*+-+*+-+*+-+*+-+*+-+*+

Downstairs a knock was heard at the door. Mel Taylor walked over to it
and opened the little window.

"What's the password?"

"Chocolate." A pair of voices rang out. No question about it -- they
were Mercs. They were *wrong*... but they were definitely Mercs. Mel
opened the door.

Two people walked in. Well, actually one person, a 5'4" brunette who
looked like she wanted to bounce, but didn't have the energy, walked
in, with a computer under her arm. The other, a slim redhead in a hat,
rolled.

The one in the purple wheelchair spoke first. "Hi. This is Kira, I'm
Liz the Lucky and this is the 'Electric Purple Death.' We're from
California."

Abby strolled slowly down the staircase, her hand sliding over the
smooth mahogany railing. She looked at Liz' chair, "It's gorgeous.
What all does it do?"

Liz grinned. She loved showing off her baby. "Well, these babies,"
pointing to some pods on the sides of the chair, "contain a couple of
built-in squirt guns, there's space in here," tapping the white-cross
on black velvet brocade covered armrests, "for garlic grenades or
stakes, there's a crossbow behind my head and a few other surprises in
the backpack. It climbs stairs, too. I figured as long as I was stuck
in it for the War, I might as well have something good. So I had Berg
make it. Is he here yet? I have 242 pounds of M&Ms in the car for him
in payment."

Angela Lai gasped. "You _drove_ here all the way from California?"

Kira nodded. "Yup. Over fifty hours, practically non-stop in a car
stolen from Liz' Mom, with me at the wheel the whole way. Liz here
doesn't have a driver's licensee."

"And we haven't had a decent meal since the souvlaki at my house." Liz
chimed in.

Kira looked at her. "You're hungry _again_?"

Liz somehow contrived to look innocent. "Hey, I'm on cortisone. Sue
me. Is Sara Orel here?"

The House Mother raised her head. "Over here."

"I don't know if you remember this, but sometime last year I did you a
favor and in return you said I could have my own room in the next War.
Guess what?"

"As a matter of fact, I do. What if I put you in the Lilac Room? It is
across the corridor from the kitchen and opposite the lift to the
second floor. Nice room."

"Thanks."

-+*+-+*+-+*+-+*+-+*+-+*+

Abby turned as they left, heading back upstairs. (After all-- who
knows what other secrets might yield to her handy-dandy super lock
pick?)-- and found herself face-to-face with the Grand High Poohbah
herself.

Well, face to _chest_ anyway.... Dianne la Mercenaire was just a hair
over six feet tall, and the stairs weren't helping at this point.

"I... um...." Abby began.

Dianne just smiled a evil little smile, perfected over the course of
the two past wars.

Abby wasn't sure exactly what that smile was supposed to convey, but
it reminded her of sharks, and piranha, and... other dangerous things
with big, sharp teeth. She opted for the 'live to fight another day'
plan and changed course back downstairs.

Dianne's smile broadened slightly as she turned to go...

...and ran smack into Berg standing on the riser behind her.

"*&^%!" she exclaimed poetically. "How did you do that?"

Berg looked at her in surprise. "I'm a Merc, appearing out of nowhere
(for a fee) when needed is what we *do*!" Puzzled, he shook his head,
trying to get the cheap, infomercial taste out of his mouth.
"besides," he added, "I was just practicing...."

Dianne frowned as she tried to re-start her heart. "Stop practicing,
dear. You're _quite_ good enough."

-+*+-+*+-+*+-+*+-+*+-+*+

"Don Airy dragged the rowboat solidly onto the beach at the lake.
'Keep an eye out for the cops, son. We can't make money off these fish
if we get caught too!'

"The boy looked around in a dulsatory fashion, 'Dad, I hate fishin'
and I really hate cleanin' fish. Nothin' worse than that. I could be
watchin' TV! They have a 'Real Life' marathon on every night this
weekend, all four days, and *every* Canadian actor is goin' be hosting
a segment. All 38 of 'em! And I gotta miss it.'

"Don kicked an empty wine bottle out of his way and dropped the fish
onto a clear spot on the beach. He sighed and began gutting the fish,
jumping back so the guts and blood wouldn't soak his sneakers. He
lopped off the heads and let them fall into the pile of offal and
stepped aside to skin them.

"After a short time, the boy nudged his father, hard, almost knocking
him into the gory mess.

" 'Da-dad? Somethin's watching me...outa that stuff.'

"Don regained his balanced and glared at his son, 'Murson, you've been
watching too much TV! There's nothing in that stuff *to watch* you! If
you.....'

"A loud slurping noise came from the pile of fish organs.

" 'Appypolly loggy, droogs!' Screed said, with his most sincere smile
on his gore-dribbled face, 'I gotta bag this govoreet, but I'll smot
... ya ... later!' He watched in bemusment as the man and boy ran over
the dunes, past their car, leaving their fish...."

------------------

"That's *disgusting*!" Lisa Reeves said, as Sonja Launspach visibly
tried not to gag. "What a nightmare!"

"Not a nightmare! It was a *good* dream, the malinky droog was back!"
John the Ratpack Merc insisted, as nearby Mercs edged even further
away from him. They knew that the Grand High Poohbah had decided that
Screed and his follower were Mercs by nature and ought to be included,
but they were now thinking of mutiny. (Not that they didn't anyway...
but they were thinking much harder now.)

-+*+-+*+-+*+-+*+-+*+-+*+

The front door opened again and a short girl with long light brown
hair pulled back into a ponytail dropped her leather knapsack by the
front door of Merc Central. A few people turned around to look at the
stranger in their midst.

"Hi, I'm Lizbet," she greeted the Merc-world in general. "I didn't get
to meet any of you last time."

"Gee, you look exhausted," Samantha Smiley said. "What happened?"

"Well, I got left behind on the SS Holy Cow when it docked after the
Highlander Cruise," Lizbet explained. "I had to dive overboard and
swim to shore. And do you know, I had to hitch across Canada to get to
Toronto? There aren't any trans-universe flights from Seacouver to
Toronto!"

"Trans-universe?" Leigh Johnston asked, confused.

Lizbet nodded. "Yup, from the Highlander universe to the Forever
Knight one."

 Suddenly the fish-gut story was looking more sane...

-+*+-+*+-+*+-+*+-+*+-+*+

With her Merc Mommy General, Christina nowhere in sight, Dianne was
trying desperately to make some kind of count of who was there... and
who was _where_.

"Lisa... well you know about Lisa's little work crew down in the
basement?" Sara looked at Dianne, who nodded. (Dianne had a tendancy
to do this reflexively-- it's amazing what people will spill when you
act like you already know all about it. But in this case she *did*
know-- as she knew about the *hefty* pay-off the Guild was getting for
the inconvenience.)

"Lane's 'borrowing' a friend's Lear jet, and last I heard a bunch of
people were grabbing rides with him... some of them even in real
seats. That may be how Calliope and Erin MacLean are getting here.
Toni's bumming a ride to Toronto with her sister-in-law, Christina's
around here _somewhere_, and I'm pretty sure I saw Dawn Steele
sneaking about at one point."

Sara shook her head. "With Mercs it's just *so* hard to keep
track...."

Dianne nodded in sympathy. Just try "leading" them....


*********************************************************************


Invitation to an Exhibition
By Sarah Chodrow, Diane Echelbarger,  AJ Schaafsma, Lana Soward,
and Spifff, all unaffiliated

Saturday, July  27
Noon
Spifff unlocked the door to her apartment and her houseguests followed
the elfin blonde inside.

Lana immediately headed into the living room and grabbed the phone.
She'd been trying to get a hold of Feliks Twist for the better part of
the morning, but his secretary kept saying he was with his plants.

Sarah looked up from her book, tried to tuck her  hair back behind her
ears for the 12th time that morning, and got up to help unload the
shopping bags. "Hi guys, how was the expedition?  Find anything
interesting?"

"But, of course!" Spifff chortled, freeing the cats from the master
bedroom, where they'd been penned all morning.

Diane dropped her bags of groceries on the kitchen counter and pushed
her over-long bangs out of her eyes.  "We found some really fresh
salmon for dinner.  I love shopping in Kensington Market!  It reminds
me of Pike Place back in Seattle."  She began to store their
purchases-- most of which were destined to wind up as dinner that
night-- in the cupboards and refrigerator.

AJ kicked off her shoes and followed Diane into the kitchen.  "My feet
hurt.  When we go out again tomorrow, I am not wearing those sandals.
Barefoot first, I think.  If  there are any more markets like that, I
want to go see if I can find more of these."  She held up her hands,
displaying six puzzle rings.

"Oooohh, tres cool!  Shiny objects.  When did you buy those?"  Spifff
asked.  "AJ, I could loan you some running shoes."

"Various times over the last five years."  AJ pointed to each ring in
turn. "Let's see...  I have two plain four bands, this is my eight
band, it's not as hard as it looks, the snake is a four band, and the
dolphins are a three band.  ...I'm on a tangent again, aren't I?..."
AJ shrugged.  "Runners would be awesome Spifff."

Lana hung up the phone and eyed the groceries that Diane had dropped
on the counter.

"Did you remember to get more Diet Coke?" she asked.   "I don't want
to run out in the morning.  It wouldn't be a pretty sight."

"Absolutely," Spifff assured her.  "Breakfast beverage of champions."

"Yuk.  Aspartame.  Don't give me any by mistake.  Then you'll see
ugly." AJ made a face as she remembered the last time she had 'Diet'
anything.

"Yeah," Diane agreed as she stuffed the salmon in the fridge, adding
rhetorically.  "I mean, soda without sugar, what's the point?"

Lana began going through the bags, tossing various items to AJ at the
cupboard and Diane at the refrigerator.   Coming across a bag marked
"The Harbord Bakery", she held it up and said, "Lunch?"

Diane nodded.  "From the best deli in town.  We got bagels, too,
Sarah."

Their purchases were soon disposed of, and the five Forever Knight
fans helped themselves to their beverages-of-choice and gathered on
the balcony, where Lana distributed the sandwiches they'd bought on
the way home.

"That's a great view of Casa Loma!" Diane enthused around a mouthful
of corned-beef-on-sourdough.  "I want to get back there again this
trip." She washed the sandwich down with a swig of Coke.

Spifff unwrapped her falafel.  "It's one reason I picked this flat."

"So what's next on the tour?" AJ asked as she bit into her turkey and
ham sandwich, shrugging ironically in Sarah's direction.  "The last
time I was here it was for a tour of the CN Tower with forty cadets." 
She groaned theatrically.  "I twisted my knee, and the Science Center
in a wheelchair was not fun.  Maybe the locations from the show so I
can get some pictures?"  AJ snapped a few shots of the famous Toronto
landmark.

 Sarah said, "I don't have many suggestions for today-- anything I can
walk to is fine by me.  The Underground can be fun, although if it's
nice out, I'd rather be outside.  And as for tonight, I'm pretty
flexible. I'll do touristy things, or check out the clubs. I'm not  a
big drinker, so I'll be glad to volunteer as designated driver if
y'all want to go clubbing. Believe it or not though, tomorrow I'd love
to go to the zoo.  It was great when I was 8, and I want to go back
and see it again.  Spifff, you know where everything is, and what's
open when.  What do you think?"

Spifff responded, "Tell you what, let's do the Eaton Centre thing. On
the way we can take a quick shufty of University College, home of one
of Toronto's resident ghosts, and cruise past a couple of Forever
Knight shooting sites on Yonge Street. You know, like the Elm Street
Pizza Pizza.  After a shopping frenzy in the Eaton Centre we can zip
over to BCE place, it's right in the neighbourhood. Lots of photo
opps."  She grinned.  "We can dooo the Zoo tomorrow. So, if you guys
are ready, shall we frappe la rue? or if you prefer we could just hang
out here and bond with the cosmos. I am one with the carpet. Pinch
me."

Diane debated asking for a translation of the last half of Spifff's
answer, then decided to just reply to the part she understood.  "The
university has a *ghost*?  Way cool!"  She fed a scrap of corned beef
to her cat, Tuppence (who had somehow slipped into Diane's car two
days ago in Wisconsin and remained concealed until they were over the
border). Then, just to be fair, she offered some to Spifff's cat,
Comet.

AJ, who'd been pestering Sarah with questions about Shabbat, broke off
to agreed enthusiastically to Spifff's plan.  "Ooh!  That sounds fun! 
'The ghosts of Toronto!'"

The others agreed.  Destination chosen and lunch completed, they re-
entered the apartment and prepared to depart.

As she refilled her water bottle from the brita in the fridge, Diane
said, "Y'know, Spifff, I still can't believe you managed to whangle
*all* of us free passes to that exhibit opening Monday.  I mean, a
special exhibit on *Brabant* at the Royal Ontario Museum!  Who'd've
thought it?"

Spifff shrugged.  "One of my professors curated the show. He had some
extra passes so I immediately thought of you guys."

 Sarah grinned,  "Aren't academic connections wonderful?"

"Well, I'm sure the sizable donation that we made didn't hurt," said
Lana, as she tossed her empty soda bottle into the blue recycling box.
"It'll be nice to see it without having to be stampeded in a crush of
Knighties."

"I wouldn't count on that," Diane warned, passing her the full-color
brochure and pointing out a line of fine print.  "It's sponsored by
the Brabant Foundation."

Lana threw up her hands in mock horror.   "Maybe we could slip in
early, like the back way?"

Diane didn't answer; she was on her knees, prying Tuppence out from
under the couch.

"It'll still be fun," Sarah insisted as she cornered Comet, picked him
up, and followed Diane to the master bedroom.

"Yeah," AJ agreed.  "How often do you get invited to an Exhibition
opening?"

Diane tossed the Tonkinese in a long arc onto the bed (where she
landed with an indignant "Yow!"), snatched Comet, stuffed him into the
room, and slamming the bedroom door shut before either cat could
escape. "The cats are secured," she announced.  "Let's go before they
start yowling!"

The five women filed out of the apartment.


*********************************************************************


Vaquero Summer Fun 1/2
Location: Cindy Brewer's House, IL.
Time: Saturday Midday, July 27th.
By Sherri Campbell & Torrey Harris

These posts brought to you by the Vaquera/o Loop, consisting of the
following madpersons: Alexis, Ann Scura, Bonnie Pardoe, Carla
Pickering, Charlyne Walker, Cindy Brewer, Crystal Guffey, Debra Eve,
Gay Eckes, Heather, Jay Diemert, Jenn Nieboer, Jerimi Paul, Jill Marie
Gillham, Katya, Laura/Apache, Lisa marie Nullar, Lisa-Marie Maitland,
Lori, McKenna Gibson, Nancy W., Sarah Houghton, Shannon, Sherri
Campbell, Stephanie Babbitt, Storm, Terry Madden, Toby Bolinger, Toni
Spadafina, Torrey Harris. And Kat, who isn't a Vaquera. :)
------------------------------------------------------------

The backyard at Cindy's house was a chaotic jumble of yelling people,
splashing water, and sheer unmitigated noise.  Sherri sat with her
back to the wall, nursing a tall, iced drink, watching the
festivities.  Turning to Torrey, she semi-yelled. "This was a *great*
idea!  Why didn't we think of having a Vaquera/o get together
earlier?!!"

Torrey looked around with an expression of pleased complaisance.
"Well, it was sort of a mutual uprising. I'm sure glad Cindy
volunteered to have it at her house. It's so nice to have it sort of
in the middle of the country."

"Yes, it *was* nice of Cindy. Especially with that inground pool! I
can't believe how far everyone came for this.  Do you realize we have
people here from California, Oregon, Rhode Island..."

"Hey! Who's from where?!"

"Um. Okay, I'm from Oregon; Bonnie, Debra E. & you are from
California; Jerimi and Terry from Idaho, Lisa-Marie (with the dash)
and Carla are from Rhode Island. Okay, we also have people from Miami
- Charlyne; Tennessee - Crystal and Jill G.; Apache is from
Washington, D.C.; Jay Diemert is from Southern Alberta; Lisa Marie
(without the dash) is from Tucson, Az; Lori is from near to St. Louis
in Missouri, Sarah from Massachusetts, Stephanie is from Atlanta
Georgia, Storm is from Wisconsin, and Toni is from Brooklyn.  Let's
see... nope, I don't recall where the others are from."

"Wow, we are widespread!"

Torrey nudged Sherri to look at the pool. As they both turned to
watch, they saw Ann sneak up on Jill and dump her into the water. As
the resulting chaos swept over all the people in the vicinity of the
pool, Torrey noticed the phone was ringing.  Seeing no-one nearby was
inclined to answer it, she reached over and grabbed it.

"Hello?" As she listened, her face gradually got sterner and grimmer. 
"All right. Thanks." She hung up the phone, and turned to Sherri.
"It's starting again. That was Katya. I know she was really
disappointed she couldn't come to the party, so I had given her this
phone number.  I'm sure glad I did. She said that the Knighties and
the Cousins are converging on Toronto."

Torrey whirled around to Sherri. "We need to get to Toronto, fast! How
can we do this?"

Sherri thought. "I know! Where's Apache?" They stood and looked for
her in the chaos.  Spotting her off to the side, half-hidden in a
corner under a tree, they sprinted to her side.

"Apache!  We need to get to Toronto, fast! What do you recommend?"
Sherri spoke quickly, and quietly.

Apache looked at the two of them, and realized they weren't joking.
"How many? All of us?" At Torrey's affirming nod, Apache thought for a
moment. "Well, I guess all we need to do is charter a plane."

Torrey's jaw dropped. "Uh, Apache? Charter a plane with what?"

Apache grinned at her expression. "With my gold card, of course!"
Rising from the bench, she strode to the phone, and began making
arrangements.

Torrey looked at Sherri. "You were right! Apache is nice to have as a
friend!"


*********************************************************************


The N&N Pack Call

July 27,1996        12:15pm
by Laura MacMillan (Soulseeker)
     Chana Rossman

I walked into my apartment carrying a load of folders and and heavy
briefcase from work.  I had to prepare a proposal for a client by
Monday.  With one swift movement, I let the pile of folders drop
heavily on her living room couch were they landed with a resounding
thud.  I sighed heavily.  It was not going to a fun weekend.

It was a hot and humid day. I headed to the bedroom to change into
something more relaxing like shorts and a t-shirt. I was half way
there when the phone rang. I considered ignoring it after all that's
what I got the voice mail for. By the second ring I was standing over
the phone looking down at the call display. Just great, unknown name,
unknown number. It could be important or it could be someone I didn't
want to talk to. Third ring. My curiousity got the better of me, I
slowly picked up the phone.

"Hello? .......Captain Reese? This a surprise, what can I do for you?"

As he explained why he had called I could feel my knees weaken.

"I'm sorry Captain, I wish I could be of more help. ....Yeah, thank
you, will."

I sat down on the couch before my knees gave out. I began to feel a
sense of danger and the sickening sense of impending doom. Something
was wrong ... very, very wrong.  I knew what I had to do. I picked up
the phone and hit the fourth number on speed dial.  After a few short
rings a woman's cheerful voice answered.

"Hello?"

"Mel, its me,"  I answered warily.

"Oh, hi Laura. What's up?"  asked Mel, happy to hear from her long
time friend.

"Something has happened. We have to convine an emergency meeting of
the Nick&Nat Pack as soon as possible, in Toronto."

"What's happened?"

"I'll explain everything I can when you get here. The plan is to meet
at Susan's house just outside Toronto tonight. Do you still have the
list who to call?

"Yeah..." Mel sounded unsure.  "Laura, you sound really worried."

"I am, Mel,  I really am."  I hung up the phone.  I reached into the
back of my address book and pulled out a yellow sheet of paper which
contained a long list of addresses and phone numbers. I picked up the
phone and began dialing.  My weekend work had been totally forgotten.


*********************************************************************


Flashback to Insanity
Time: July 27,  1pm
By Lana G. Soward

NOTE:  Adrian Wetmore occurs courtesy of War 5.

Flashback to Insanity

Adrian Wetmore juggled his groceries in his arms, trying not to drop
them as he searched for his key to the building.  He always forgot to
get his keys out before he picked up things, the result being that he
had to perform a juggling act to get to them.

He was saved from having to search further, when the door was opened
and five women came through the door.  The last one held the door open
for him and he went through.

"Thanks," he said  and then turned to stare at her as she walked away.
She reminded him of someone, then he remembered.  She was one of the
two people who brought that delusional patient to him last year.   The
one who thought vampires were real and that he was Duncan McLeod of
Highlander.

---------------------  Flashback to War 5 ----------------------------

Dr. Wetmore leaned back in his chair.  "Is something wrong?"

Jane shook her head, unable to think of anything to say.  Lana looked
up curiously and let go of Dawn in shock.  "Sh*t."

"Duncan."  Dawn squealed, and scuttled around the desk.  "I was
beginning to think you didn't love me any more."  She jumped into Dr.
Wetmore's lap and flung her arms around his neck, plastering his face
with kisses.

"Miss....er...miss..umph."  Dawn latched onto his mouth as soon he
opened it.  One of her hands began running up and down his chest.

Jane and Lana sunk into two of the chairs on the other side of the
desk. Lana groaned and covered her face.

Gasping for breath, Dr. Wetmore managed to get out a couple of words,
"My name's not Duncan."

"Ohhh sweetheart, did you have to give up your life in Seacouver?
What name are you using now?"

"Seacouver?  Where....."  Utterly confused, Dr. Wetmore tried to pry
Dawn off him.  "My name is Adrian...Adrian Wetmore." "Adrian?"  Dawn
giggled, "You used the actor's name.  What a wonderful idea."  She sat
back and leaned against the desk.  "By the way, we've got Kelley
trapped at headquarters."

"Kelley?"

"You know."  Dawn chided him, "The evil immie of the week.  All you
have to do is get her sword and we can go get her."

"My...my sword?"

"Well how else are you going to cut off her head."  Dawn blew lightly
in his ear, "Can I watch?  I've always wanted to see you get someone's
quickening."

"Cut off her head?"  Dr. Wetmore was appalled.  He grabbed Dawn's arms
and pulled her off, shoving her away.  Lana drew her back into the
remaining chair.  Dawn collapsed into the chair and began hugging
herself and rocking again.  Tears streamed down her face.

"That was uncalled for."  Lana was indignant.  "Look what you've done
to her.  Do you treat all your delusional patients this way."

Dr. Wetmore straightened his shirt and ran one hand through his hair. 
"I'm sorry, but she took me by surprise."

"Can you help her?"  Jane asked quietly.  "Can you undo what has been
done to her?"

"Why don't you start at the beginning and tell me everything you know
about her problem."

----------------------- End Flashback --------------------------------

Adrian had finished putting his groceries and sat down to think some
more about the events of last year.  He'd never seen so many people
that were under a mass delusion before in his life.  The police had
dropped about thirty people off at the clinic, all claiming that
vampires were running around Toronto.  By the time the last of them
had been released from the clinic, he know more about vampires than
he'd ever wanted to.


*********************************************************************


Rolling Wheels (The Immortal Beloveds Enter)
by Felicia Bollin and Chanda Keith
Time:  Approx. 3:00 PM, Saturday July 27th

"Let's see. Now what's in my mailbox today?"  Chanda Keith muttered to
herself as she dug through her email.  "Dead horses?  Boring.  Women
in the JLA.  Nope.  No mention of my favorite.  Fiction?  Wait a
minute.  Is that by a Nick & Natpacker?  Where's delete?  Can't they
find something else to talk about?  Ahhh.  New Tiny Toon fiction.
Good. More Nick & Natpack fiction. Not good.  That stuff should be
labeled. Letter from Mistress Janette.  Oh, now there's a good story. 
Cousinly fiction is so much better than...  Wait a minute!  A letter
from Mistress Janette?  What?!!  Let's see what I have here."

"A WAR!!  Yes!!  Yes!!  Yes!!"  she cried, hitting "print" and dancing
around the computer.  "I better see if Felicia wants me to pick her up
and....  Wait a minute.  Slow down.  First you have to get
transportation to Toronto.  Now where did I put those pictures of my
cousin when he was thirteen?"

Nearly a hour later Chanda had finally talked her cousin into loaning
her a van from his family's car lot.  Amazing how cooperative he was
when she had mentioned showing pictures of him as a kid to his new
girlfriend.  Now, she just had to call Felicia, reply to Mistress
Janette's letter and pack.  She quickly typed in a response to
Janette's message and then started to unhook the computer as she
dialed Felicia's number.

"Hi!  Felicia, it's me, Chanda.  Did you get an email from Mistress
Janette?  Good.  I'm just packing to leave.  Do you want me to stop
and pick you up?  No, I haven't gotten a driver's license since the
last war. Hey, I drive better than Nick and they let him have a
license.  Don't worry. Besides, if you come with me you can get a
sneak preview of that tape I told you about.  The van my cousin's
loaning me has a VCR.  Oh, and speaking of the cousin, I just heard
him pull up in front.  Talk to you later."

She flew about the room shoving things into suitcases while her cousin
carried the computer out to the van.  Several minutes and about ten
bags of clothes, twenty boxes of disks, a stack of medieval mysteries,
Reformation notes from last semester and several other boxes of
assorted junk later, she was ready to go.  Chanda grabbed her cats,
snatched the keys from her cousin before he could think to ask if she
were legally able to drive, and took off for the freeway.

She was approaching the Tennessee border and watching for any sign of
the highway patrol when she spotted the first problem.

"Move it, Nicky,"  she said to the white cat who had just leaped onto
the windshield.  "Wait a minute!  You're not Nicky!  What in the
world?!!"

She quickly pulled to the side of the road to do a kitty count. One,
two, three, four.  Four?  she thought.  I only have two cats!!

"Oh, no!!!"  Chanda cried as she looked at her two stowaways, a pure
white cat and a tortoiseshell.  Her neighbor's cats.  How in the world
did her neighbor's cats get in her van?

"Well, you two are just going to have to go to Toronto with me because
I can't turn around to take you home now.  I don't know what your
owner is going to do when he finds out,"  she muttered as she pulled
back onto the road.

Somewhere in Kentucky, Chanda started to notice that cars in the
opposite lane were slowing down to stare at her.   She glanced in the
rearview mirror and quickly spotted the reason.  Mosquitos, apparently
every mosquito in the south, were gathered in a giant swarm just
behind the van, hungrily pursuing their favorite meal, her!

"No!!"  Chanda screamed as she hit the gas.  She just hoped that she
would lose them before she got to Toronto.  She really didn't want to
have to present herself to Mistress Janette covered in mosquito bites.
*** "Hey!"  Felicia chirped, settling her luggage onto an empty chair
in the van--- and settling, and settling, and settling, Chanda thought
a trifle resentfully.  *She* was supposed to be the Ravenette who
lugged the most stuff.  What gives here?

"Ready to go?"  Felicia stuffed the last package in and knelt
gracefully (if you discounted the popping noise in her knees, which
rather spoiled the overall effect) onto a long seat.  "Gee, you look
awfully bedraggled.  Did something happen?"  she asked innocently,
checking her scarlet lipstick in the rear-view mirror.

Chanda opened her mouth to say something, then stopped and changed her
mind. "No, nothing.  Nothing at all,"  she added unnecessarily, as she
glanced out the back, then into the rearview mirror.

Quite nervously, Felicia thought.  How odd.  Then, she dismissed it.
"So, you have a place for me to plug in my laptop, right?" Felicia
asked, finding the place even as she talked.  "Then let's get going!" 
She powered up the laptop and eagerly peered at the queue of waiting
messages.

"Those are *all* the Immortal Beloveds we have?"  Chanda asked, torn
between hilarity and horror as she pulled out of the driveway.

"No, of course not."  Felicia peered absently at the cute little
monitor, simultaneously fitting on her glasses and continuing to type
as Chanda struggled valiantly with the wheel.  "Most of them cabled or
emailed to say that their travel plans would be taken care of by their
primary faction."

All her attention still on the monitor, it was a good thing that
Felicia didn't notice the gathering swarm of mosquitoes that Chanda
could see quite plainly from the rear-view mirror.

Great, Chanda thought.  Just great.  I thought I lost them back when I
crossed the Mason-Dixon!!

"Hey, you did say something about a--- _video_, didn't you?"  Felicia
asked, looking up so fast she almost caught Chanda off guard.

Settling back into the seat, Felicia gave a gasp as Chanda flicked on
the VCR a trifle smugly;  then smiled a cat-and-cream smile.

Famous last words, yes? :)


*********************************************************************


The Old Switcheroo
story idea by Diane E. (gryphon@execpc.com)
written by Mel Taylor (cn1015@coastalnet.com/MelTaylor@aol.com)
Timeframe:  ***Saturday, July 27th, Before Sunset***


As screw-ups go, this one was turning out to be quite the blue-ribbon
winner.

Shocked by what she'd seen, Mel turned away from the Raven's door and
counted to ten.  <Damn,> she thought.  <No way there's any of
LaCroix's special stock in there.>  Taking a deep breath, she eased
open the door to the once-stylish club and walked in.

 It looked like all hell had broken loose.  Dust, cobwebs, graffiti,
and glass turned the club into a sad shadow of itself.  It was obvious
that the Raven/ettes had a long road ahead of them.

And it was obvious that as a Merc on her first job, she was in serious
trouble.

This wasn't good.  This wasn't good at all.  She had a client who was
expecting merchandise and delivery tonight.  As a Mercenary, she was
bound by duty to deliver.  She checked her watch again.  There wasn't
enough time to contact her spies----pish, who could trust them
anyway?---to find another source for the merchandise she needed.

<Think, think, think,> Mel chanted to herself, fishing out  a roll of
Tums and biting off the first one in the pack.   She walked to the
bar, wincing as glass crunched under her sneakers.  A battered
cardboard box caught her eye.  She bent over, peeled back the flaps,
and  examined the dark green bottles inside  hopefully.  They were
empty and dry, their parchment labels veined with cracks.

The club's musty air  and chilly shadows were  getting to her.
Shuddering, Mel turned to go, then reconsidered the box of empty
bottles again.  <You never know when you might need empty bottles> a
small, Merc-like voice prodded her.  She picked up the box and left
the club quickly.

<I'm toast> Mel thought, heading back for the car.  <The Vaqueros are
going to kill me, and right now, I can't say I'd blame them. Why did I
ever think I could pull off a stunt like this?  I should have stayed
home and--->

Mel looked up and cut off her inner voice, which had a tendency to
whine during moments of great stress.   She had a solution to her
problem.  Shifting the box of empty bottles to get a better grip on
it, Mel pushed open the door to the butcher shop.

"You want *what*?" the kind-faced man behind the counter asked her a
few moments later.

"Pig's blood, and I'd like for you to pour it into these bottles,
please," Mel added pleasantly as she heaved the box onto the counter.

The butcher eyed her and wiped his hands nervously on his apron.  He
peeled back the flaps and looked into the box.  "You've got about two
cases worth of bottles in here.  That's a lot of blood."  He paused
and gave her a stern look.  "You're not one of those Satan
worshippers, are you?"

"No, no," Mel assured him, honestly horrified.   Sheesh, she was only
a lapsed Catholic, after all.  "I use it in my paintings."

Twenty minutes later, she was storing the newly-filled bottles (now
nestled in two sturdy crates provided by the helpful butcher) in the
trunk of her car.   Okay, so this wasn't LaCroix's special stock.
Maybe her clients wouldn't care or  wouldn't notice the difference.

Blood was blood, after all.  Wasn't it?

Mel got in her car and popped another Tums.


*********************************************************************


The Lucky and the Dead (2/3)
Sat.  July 27, 1996 - Late Afternoon
Toronto Airport
By:  Partly K and The Perkulators

Partly stood the airport, dancing to the songs playing in her headset.
Robin looked up from her book long enough to frown at her energetic
friend.


"Will you sit down, Becky?"

Partly smiled at the redhead.  "Can't.  Three whole days away from Wil
and Myr, loose in a wonderful city, and money to burn.  What more
could you ask for?"  Partly loved her husband and child, but she
needed to get away once in a while.

"How much did you win anyhow?"

"Well, not counting the money spent on airline tickets, we've got
close to five thousand.  American, of course."

Lynne finally joined in the conversation.  "Five thousand DOLLARS?"

Partly nodded.  "Two nights at the blackjack tables and three playing
the slots.  Still got the original stake, too."  She flashed the
silver "Vettern" coin at her second in command.  "I also bet on two
horses: Tracy's Gold, and Commissioner's Daughter.  Both were long
shots that won going away.  Never doubt the Vetter Better system --
the quickest way to get money that I know of."

"Partly?  Kristina?"  The voice from behind them came from a woman
wearing a smiley face shirt.  "I'm Lynne."

"Glad to meet you, Lynne,"  Partly said, then made the introductions.
"Courtney, Shannon, Fredric and Robin.  Kristina is waiting for us
outside. You all got your luggage?"  There were nods all around, and
in a mass of bags and suitcases they headed for the exit.

"Did you get any more messages from GoodCopT?"  Courtney asked as they
piled into the rented van that Kristina had gotten for them.

"One each day."  Partly climbed in the front seat.  "All the same
except the last one that added a 'You could have trusted me'."

"Spooky."  Partly didn't know who said that.  Everyone was in and
Kristina headed down town.

"You're telling me.  I don't like getting e-mail from ghosts"  A horn
blew off to her right and Partly caught a glimpse of someone out the
window as Kristina pulled away from a stop sign.  "That's a
Natpacker."  She pointed out the window.  Everyone looked, but they
were too far away.

"Are you sure?"  Robin asked.

"I know a Natpacker when I see one," Partly said.  "She almost got hit
by an orange truck.  Do you think Jennie's still up here?"  Partly had
gone to college with the head Natpacker.  No one answered.  "Keep you
eyes open for others.  Something might be up."

They rode in silence for a second, then Courtney yelled, "Stop!  Stop
the car."  She had the door open before the van slowed.  "Look!"  She
pointed to a large pink banner hung on a hotel.  It read:  'BUTTUNS
raffle today'. "I wonder what that's all about?  I mean, didn't you
say never to doubt the Vetter Better system?"

Partly grinned.  "I did."  She jumped out of the van, being sure to
grab her purse.  "Kristina, why don't you drive around the block.
I'll be back."

Five minutes later she was back in the van with a handful of raffle
tickets.  "BUTTUNS is Businessmen United To Teach the Unemployed New
Skills and there are hundred of prizes being given away today at
eight."  She checked her watch.  "It's six now, how 'bout we get
changed and come back here?"

Everyone nodded in agreement, and Kristina headed out once again.


*********************************************************************


The Die-Hards Arrive
By: Laura Ruggiero with additions from the other Die-Hards
Time: July 27,  mid-afternoon
Place: Toronto

The taxi dropped the short, young-looking woman off at the apparently
abandoned building.  "Are you sure this is the address?" the he asked.
"No one comes out here any more." Little did the driver know just how
much activity had been taking place out here these last 2 months.  The
Die-Hards had bought the place with the intent of setting up a Forever
Knight museum and memorial.  It would do well a war HQ now; with the
sudden decent of knighties, cousins, and other fk fans onto Toronto,
something had to be up.

"I'm sure this is the place," she said as she paid the driver with a
mischievous smile on her face. "I ought to be, I am part of the group
that bought it."   As the taxi pulled away, the driver shaking his
head, the woman walked to the gate.

"Can I help you miss?" asked the security guard, stepping out of his
booth by the gate.

"Hello there.  I represent the die-hard Forever Knight fan group that
bought this place.  My name is Laura Ruggiero."

"Oh, of course, I'm George. If you don't mind me asking, why would you
people be interested in buying this place?"

"We love the show Forever Knight, a show which, until recently, was
filmed right here.  By turning this place into a museum and memorial,
we are trying to keep the show alive any way we can.  And for the next
two weeks we are trying another method of doing just that.   Are you
are familiar with the concept of live action role-playing?"

"Sure," George said, "my little brother LARPs every chance he gets."

"Well we are testing out a new role-playing system based on that show.
We thought the old studio would be a perfect place to try it out."
Laura and the other Die-Hards had planned carefully, what better way
to provide themselves a "cover" for all the strange things that would
soon be happening.  With the Paragon surveillance equipment still in
place, and a few modifications (like the laser defense system, always
moved from one HQ to the next) added to the place, the former Paragon
studio was the perfect place for the Die-Hards, a group dedicated to
the show as a whole.

"I guess that makes sense.  Here are the identification key cards you
requested.  When will the rest of your group show up?"

"They should be here soon, just send them on in as they arrive,"
Laura smiled.  Any time as many of the FK fans got together as was
happening here, it could only mean one thing, war.  Wars were a lot of
fun, and with the help of Feliks Twist in managing the money left form
the last war, the Die-Hard war chest was comfortably full.  There was
more than enough money to cover setting up and running the HQ for the
war, paying for plane tickets to get all the Die-Hards to and from
Toronto and to cover all the sundry expenses they would incur while
here.  Laura had called the Die-hards earlier and asked them to drop
everything and head up to Toronto.


Laura entered the studio, and quickly inspected the facilities.   All
was in place, even the special arrangements necessary for Ron, so she
pulled out her Virtual PowerBook and downloaded her e-mail.  * I am so
happy I convinced my brother to let me keep this, * she thought, * it
was so very useful during that Gathering of Highlander list members
back in March, and it will prove useful again, here.*  *I guess a note
to the list is in order*
------------------------------
From: larug@siu.edu (Laura Ruggiero)
Subject: War: Die-Hard HQ is open
Cc:

This is an open message to all taking part in the war.
Ron the Enforcer and I (Laura Ruggiero) are the Die-Hard "leaders" for
this war. The Die-Hard HQ is open and ready to shelter all, mortal or
vampire, who desire sanctuary.
We are well able to defend ourselves from attack and have
accommodations suitable for anyone.
We have taken over the recently vacated Paragon Studios, so the HQ
should be easy enough to find.  Be prepared to properly identify
yourself if you drop by, there is an armed guard at the front gate.

Laura Ruggiero (larug@siu.edu)
Die-Hard Co-Coordinator (what have I gotten myself into?)
----------------------------
*There, that should do it.  And I should be able to get in some  work
on my thesis before the other arrive.*

================
A few hours later the others began to arrive.  Several  were veterans
of previous wars, others were new recruits.  The tall (6' 3") and
muscular Chuck Harding was the first to arrive, his salt & pepper
short hair and goatee made him fairly distinctive.  He was dressed in
shorts, a pocket tee-shirt, and sandals, and of, course he had on his
ever present glasses.

Donna Burns was next, she had brown hair and hazel eyes. She was
dressed in jeans, and was wearing her prescription sunglasses.  At 5'
6", she was not used to towering over people but, tower she did over
their "temporary coordinator" Laura.  Along with the expected baggage,
she had her son's laptop so she could keep up with her mail and keep
in touch back home.

Bruce Gray arrived next, having already dropped his wife off at the
Knightie HQ.  He stood about 6 feet tall with sandy brown hair and
large square wire-framed (aviator-style) glasses with grey eyes.

Then Toby Bolinger arrived, at 20 he was the youngest in the group,
but he wasn't going to let that stop him, a twinkle of mischief showed
in his brown eyes as he met the others in the group.  At 115 lbs, his
slight build just might come in useful in certain circumstances in the
war.

The next mortal members of the Die-Hards arrived not long after Tony,
at 5'4" , Moria concodered herself short, but she towered over Laura. 
Her hazel  eyes, dark brown hair, fair skin, and freckles  gave the
false impression of a quiet, demure woman; her new friends would soon
encounter her exceedingly wicked (and sometimes raunchy) sense of
humor.

The next to arrive was Don Fasig, the illustrious "List Gardener."
(If anyone tries to mess with list subscriptions in this war there
will be a swift response, enough said).  His brown eyes had  flecks of
gold in them, although normal, it did cause a few of the Die-Hards to
briefly wonder if there would be two vampires in the faction for this
war (especially since they knew he was from Florida and yet was not
tanned).

The sun had set by the time Kristine Ward had arrived, she was tall
(5'8") and had very dark brown eyes and short brown hair.  When she
smiled it was quite apparent how she had acquired the nickname
"Devilspawn."

 As Nancy entered the DH's headquarters, from her long flight from
Washington, DC, she was excited and overwhelmed about working with so
many talented (and slightly wicked) individuals.  Nancy may be only 5'
2 1/2" (hey, gotta remember that half! :) with an innocent and angelic
face, but that's where the "sweet" stuff ends!  A night person always,
the hours that the DH will keep is just another advantage - since it's
nights that she comes "alive." (She is *NOT* a morning person.)

Ron the Enforcer was the last to arrive (by far the oldest in the
group <eg>), dressed very stylishly in a banded collar shirt with a
vest, slacks, and a very cool looking (especially when flying) duster.
He hid his green eyes behind aviator style glasses.  His shaggy brown
hair was much in need of a brushing after his flight over to the HQ.
At 5' 8" and with his athletic build and good looks, he would have
attracted attention anyway, but with the added charisma of being a
ancient vampire and an enforcer, all came to a stop momentarily when
he entered the room.

Everyone was quite enthusiastic about the war and all had  ideas they
wanted to share.   "Well, I hope you are all prepared to keep a
vampire's hours for the next few weeks. " Laura said.  " I know some
of us are," as she gives Ron a quick smile.  "Lately I've been staying
up most of the night anyway for various reasons.  I hope the rest of
you are able to adjust to a similar schedule."

The initial meeting lasted several hours as they discussed what had
brought them all to Toronto this time.  Somewhere during that time
Laura  began to massage her neck, at 5.0 feet tall she was much
shorter than most of the Die-Hards, and having to look up all the time
was already beginning to take its toll.

-----------
Note:  All Die-Hards have identification key-cards, which unlock the
various buildings and rooms, and the guards know us on sight.


*********************************************************************


PAYMENTS
AUTHOR:    Posted By Mercenary Cousin Lisa for an anonymous
                benefactor
Location:  Somewhere in Toronto
Date:      Saturday, July 27th
Time:      late afternoon

****************

She picked up the Toronto Sun Times newspaper, and quickly flipped
through the pages -- it should be a big story.  "Where is it?  Page
twelve?!  Well, this is definitely it:"

"THEFT OF 'PRINCE'"
by Kathleen Hastham, Staff Writer

A break-in occurred late on July 23rd at the Grenville Bouquiniste, an
antique book store in downtown Toronto.  Owner Thackery Grenville
claims the only item missing is a book, Niccolo Machiavelli's
'Prince.'  The first edition copy, dating from 1531, is priceless
according to Grenville. Independent investigations by both the Metro
Police and a private insurance company are in progress.  "Whoever the
thief was, he knew what he was doing," said Captain Stonetree of the
46th Precinct.  "The alarm was disabled and no other items were taken.
This guy knew exactly what he wanted before he got here...."

A wicked smile crept across the young woman's face as she ran a finger
over the box containing the invaluable book.  A bit of pretty gift
wrap and this part of the bargain would be complete. Now for the phone
call.  She picked up the cellular phone and dialed long distance to
the States.  "Be there.  I know it's Sunday, but you're *always* at
work."

Five painfully long rings later: "Hello?  Um... M&M/Mars, Stuart Evans
speaking."

"Stu!  It's me."  She absently twisted a stand of hair about her index
finger.

"Hey!  How ya been?  I haven't heard from you since--"

"Since I rushed that order for you last month?"  A hellish task she
would not soon forget.

"Yeah.  You saved my butt.  You know, any time I can do somethin' for
you--"

"Well, that's why I called.  I need your help."  She wrinkled her
perky little nose as she spoke these last words.

"Sure.  Shoot."

"I need peanut M&Ms."

"Um, they sell those at the supermarket, ya know."

"I need *just* the blue ones."  She crossed her fingers and hoped that
he would come through for her.

"Who-a!  I can't *do* that.  That's strictly against policy."

"Ah, come on.  For me?"  She said, smiling her sweetest smile.  "I did
pull an all-nighter for you."  She knew that he could not see her coy
puppy-dog expression, but she hoped it was evident from the tone of
her voice.

"Okay."  He sighed with resignation.  "I'll try and manage something."

"Thanks, you're a dear!  I need a ten gallon drum sent to Lisa Prince,
c/o Merc Central, Toronto, Ontario, Canada.  And remember -- only the
*blue* ones!"

"Okay, but that's the last time I ask *you* to rush an order for me."

"Sure it is, Stan, sure."  She couldn't help giggling -- he always
said that.  "Thanks again -- talk to you soon!  Give that pup of yours
a pat on the head for me.  Bye."

She sighed as she hung up the phone.  "Well, that's that!"  And well
worth the effort, she hoped!  "Now where did I put that red curling
ribbon?"


*********************************************************************


I Love it When Plan B Comes Together (continued)

Place:  Toronto Airport
Time:  Saturday July 27, late afternoon


"Why do airports have all the ambiance of a sleep  deprivation
chamber?" Jill Kirby mused, glancing around the sterile walls
disdainfully.  Jill was looking particularly elegant today--she had
been using the time in Toronto profitably to augment her wardrobe in
interesting ways.

"Why do drinks cost five times more at an airport than they would at
the last outpost on the edge of the Sahara?" Kelly Gritten grumbled,
sucking a fountain Pepsi comprised of at least ninety-five percent
water through a straw.  She surveyed the contents of the cup glumly,
then dumped it into a nearby trashcan and wiped her hands, damp from
the condensation on the cup, on her jeans.

"Why does it take the luggage three times as long as the  duration of
the flight to show up?" Sharon Himmanen muttered  irritably, pacing
across the pale airport floor like a caged  monkey...er, tiger.  Her
combat boots tapped out an impatient rhythm on the floor.

Needless to say, the other passengers waiting for their  luggage to
appear on the silver conveyor belt which had  been circling
hypnotically for the last fifteen minutes  without a single duffel
bag, backpack, or formerly pristine guitar-case now horribly mangled
and resembling nothing  more than a Barbie Corvette trampled by an
elephant, agreed  with the complaint.

Alora silently watched the silver panels of the luggage belt  sway by,
her eyes lured by the afterimages of light bouncing  off the shiny
metal. "Oooh," she finally moaned.  "I feel sick."

Mei nodded miserably in agreement.  More than any of the  other
NatPackers who had flown into Toronto that morning,  she seemed to
have suffered from the ravages of Murphy's  Law of Air Travel:  even
if you do manage to catch your  flight, which will be delayed two
hours but it won't matter  because your alarm clock won't have gone
off anyway, and  besides you won't be able to find any of the clothes
you had  planned to take, so you leave the house with nothing more
than a cellular phone clutched in your hand...even if all that
happens, you won't be able to open the shiny silver bag of  peanuts
that the well-coifed flight attendant hands you as  your only
sustenance for the trip without a protracted  struggle, and when you
do finally RRRRIPPPP it open, the  peanuts will go flying everywhere. 
So Mei just sat slumped  next to Alora, her cellular phone in one
hand, and crumpled  piece of peanut bag in the other.

With all the torment of Nick trying to make a decision, the  baggage
carousel finally spat out the first piece of  luggage.  A small brown
toiletries case landed abruptly on  the conveyor and circled one, two,
three times without being  claimed.  The waiting crowd stood
absolutely still, daring  somebody to be the first and only to pick up
their luggage.

"Come on," Sharon ordered the luggage to appear quietly.   She had
been the last to arrive at the airport, where Jill and  Kelly, who had
been in Toronto since--she frowned at the  thought--Natalie Lambert's
disappearance, had arrived to  pick up those NatPackers returning to
the city this weekend. Using that unique NatPackers talent for
organization, she,  Alora and Mei had arranged to fly in at about the
same time;  as befitted the unique NatPacker talent for having plans
go  awry, they had all arrived much later than anticipated.

Suddenly other pieces of baggage erupted from the chute in  an
avalanche of mismatched luggage.  The crowd dived  upon the pile in a
frenzy, and Jill and Kelly joined Sharon in  the fray to find her bag.

"Brown bag with a gold buckle," Kelly chanted to herself,  pushing
past a troop of Girl Scouts to scope out the luggage.

"Brown bag with a gold buckle," Jill reminded herself, but  promptly
became distracted by two animal carriers which  had arrived on another
conveyor.  At least Katie was being  safely cared for while she
herself was in Toronto.

Sharon stood back a little, surveying the crowd grimly.  The  pile of
luggage had begun to thin as people claimed their  belongings, but
what remained was still hopelessly jumbled.   If she could just get a
glimpse of her bag...

"Got it!" came one NatPack cry from the left side of the  luggage
carousel.

"Found it!" came another, from the other direction.

"Hey!" Sharon shouted.  "Stop!  That's my bag!"

Jill and Kelly, each clutching identical bags, looked around  in
confusion as Alora pointed to Sharon, who was in pursuit  of a tall,
long-haired man lugging another brown bag with a  gold buckle.  The
man looked back frantically at Sharon, who  was gaining on him, and
hastened to the doors leading  outside.  Alora followed, with Mei
shouting from behind  them, "Sharon, wait!" but they were already
outside.

Jill and Kelly dragged their prizes over to where Mei was  standing,
preparing to follow their friend, but Alora came  back into the
airport, shaking her head in confusion.

"What happened?" Jill demanded.

"It was the weirdest thing.  This guy took Sharon's bag and  threw it
into a waiting car and they took off.  Kelly's car was  still in the
loading zone, so Sharon jumped into it and went  after them."

"My car!" Kelly wailed.  She loved her Autumn Wine (tm)-colored  Chevy
Cavalier--it had been her stepmother's mid-life crisis  car until her
parents gave it to Kelly as a wedding present.

Jill patted her on the shoulder consolingly, but continued to  quiz
Alora, who was still shaking her head in confusion.  "What else?"

Alora looked uncomfortable for a moment, then shrugged. "I must have
been seeing things," she said finally.

"What?" Mei demanded.

"Well, the driver of the car--he looked a lot like the Guy."

"Like The Guy!!" Jill and Mei shouted.

"Great," Jill continued.  "We'll never get Sharon back now."

"Uh, guys.  I don't think that will be a problem, actually,"  Kelly
interjected.  They turned to look at her, and found that  she had
opened the two bags identical to that of Sharon.   One was filled with
neatly wrapped packs of hundred dollar  bills.  The other was crammed
with small white packets, one  of which Kelly had opened and tasted
sparingly.

"Drugs?" Alora demanded.

She shook her head.  "Nope.  Salt.  We won't have any problem getting
Sharon back now."


*********************************************************************


A New Store in Town
   by Sara Orel <FA55@academic.truman.edu>
      [posted by Dianne, GHP <cat.goddess@pobox.com>]

[timing-- after Merc intro post... Saturday day]

[Comments to FA55@truman.edu, but don't expect an answer very quickly!
Anyone wanting to use the chocolate shop or characters, please coordinat
e with those named herein, or for me contact Dianne la Mercenaire
(Cat.goddess@pobox.com).                            Sara Orel]
---


Sara sighed, and brushed the hair from her face.  Crouching in a
window of a shop in the direct sunlight while painting a window was
not her idea of a fun time, particularly in the heat of July in
Toronto.  Oh well, she thought, with the sunlight at least there was
no need to worry about vampires.

"Here you go, Sara" said Kira, handing her a glass of Club Soda with a
lime twist.  "You look a bit hot."

"Mrmsrnphhhh" Sara managed, as she gulped down the drink.  "Thank you
very much."  She straightened, then stretched.  It felt wonderful.

"Looks good," Kira commented, as she took back the glass.  "I'm glad
it is you doing it, and not me."  Her blue eyes twinkling, Kira went
back to the counter of the shop, where she was testing out the
computerized cash register.

"And I am glad that isn't me.  I have enough trouble getting Windows
95 to work, let alone a computerized cash register."  Sara sighed
again and went back to the window painting, dipping her brush in the
white paint this time.  "I guess I was the logical choice, as the name
was my suggestion.  I just don't like it that much."

The white highlight around the M done, Sara put down the brush and
went outside to see the view from the front.  It wasn't bad, actually,
con-sidering it was her first time painting a window.  The RDM stood
out from the rest of the words, as did the "Chocolates and Roses"
beneath it.  At the bottom of the window were the words "Rich, Dark,
Mysterious" and the note "We Deliver in the Metro Area: Call us for
Details".  In the lower right was the fine print: "A Mercenary Guild
Enterprise" (she had refrained from adding the Guild slogan: "We're in
it for the money," a particularly appropriate comment after that
rather acrimonious meeting today about the overdue Guild fees, and
missing rent (she rather sus-pected Dianne of having eaten some of the
chocolate offered in rent after the last war, but one did not accuse
the GHP without proof, and she hoped she would be able to collect it
this time around. The Guild needed cash to pay the mortgage on the
house and for bribes (you know, the CRTC, the building inspectors,
etc.).  Chocolate didn't buy too many city officials. In fact, it
didn't buy much these days other than a member of the Guild.  So Sara,
being the House Mother in charge of collecting rent, had decided to
start up a shop to change chocolate fees into cash, and this shop (she
hoped) would do just that.

RDM stocked chocolate of all kinds, from M&Ms to Godiva, and all in-
between.  She hoped to convince the Happy Souvlaki folks to sell some
of those incredible mint brownies through RDM as well.  In addition,
going with a common Guild theme, Sara had arranged to import and sell
the real ly fine-smelling roses she had discovered in Bulgaria.  The
theme was seduction, and to that end the shop worked well with the
other public Guild offering, Darkangel's Dangerous Liaisons Boutique
on Yonge Street.

"Have you seen Lane?" Kira asked, looking up from the phone.

"Nope, but he should be in sometime today."  Perhaps another gold line
in the corner of the window...

"I think we will have some deliveries for him when he gets in."

Sara finally looked up from what she was doing.  "Already?  We aren't
even officially open yet."

"Well, if we want people to know we are open, what better way than to
send flowers to each of the faction leaders, along with some examples
of our wares?"

Sara grinned.  "You are starting to sound like a marketing major
rather than film...  Check with Abby as to what good stuff is in
stock."

"Okay."  And Kira happily wandered back to the stockroom with visions
of marketing ploys in her head.

"I guess this is the right place."  Dawn said, opening the door to the
shop and causing the bell on the door to jingle (jangle out of tune...
your Hamlet reference for the day).

"Yup!  Welcome to the newest Guild enterprise."

Looking around at the almost-ready shop, Dawn frowned slightly.  "You
don't seem to have any crosses or icons around.  I can understand not
wanting to have garlic, but what do you do if a vampire comes around?"

"As long as they pay their bills, I have no problem with who the
customers are.  Besides, we do have a water pistol with Holy Water
next to the cash register along with the call button to the police."

"Cool."

"And we don't plan on calling the police.  We figure we can take care
of our own."

"I should hope so!"

Dawn opened up the door to the fridge where the flowers would be kept
after tomorrow's delivery.

"If they smell as nice as the rose oil you brought us from Bulgaria,
the y will be wonderful."

"They smell even better," Sara reassured her.

"Abby says we have plenty of Godiva chocolate, along with Reese's
pieces and chocolate Easter eggs..."  Kira announced as she came back
to the front of the shop.

"Easter eggs?"  Dawn and Sara asked in unison.  There must have been a
war they missed.

"Yeah.  Oh, don't ask!  Anyway, as of tomorrow when the roses come in,
Abby says we can put together a delivery to each of the faction
leaders. And she will write a note to go with one of the flyers for
each one, detailing price and speed of delivery."

"Great."  Sara went to the cabinet behind the counter and got out the
red tablecloths and boxes (empty) that would get piled in the window
to show the kinds of chocolate the shop carried.  "Could you two help
me arrange the windows?"

"Sure."

We leave our intrepid band of mercs, happily arranging windows in a
store that is not all that far from the Raven or in the other
direction, not a long way from the Eaton Centre.  Anyone who wants to
hire them, feel free to do so.  Mercs are reasonable in their request
for payment, and we do know chocolate; you can be sure you will only
get the best!!


*********************************************************************


A Romany's Arrival
by Katrinka

This takes place before the last knightie posting


The taxi let Katrinka off at a fairly rough neighborhood. She looked
around. The building looked familur to her, it was the building Nick's
loft was  in.


She went to the door, and rang the bell. There was no answer. She
tried the elevator, but that didn't work eather. So she took the
stairs. She  found the door to Nick's loft unlocked. But there where
no lights on. She could see the flickering of candles around the room.
It was a nice touch she thought.

"Well, I'm here," She finally said.

"And who are you?" A woman asked.

"I'm Katrinka."

The woman looked her up and down. "Welcome to  Toronto, I'm Perri,"

"I"M Cath," Another voice said. "Nice place, where's the lights?"

Perri looked at Cath, and then at Katrinka. "There not working. The
city turned off the electricity."

"No lights, I can cope." She put her bags down.

"You don't mind?" Cath asked.

"I'm a Romany, I'm used to sleeping in places without electricity."
She shrugged.

"Your a Gypsy?" Perri couldn't keep the disbelif out of her voice.
"You don't look like a gypsy."

"Well, I'm half, my mother's a Welch and French," She paused.

"You family doesn't say anything about you being so pale?"

"You know all Romany's don't live in caravans, or have dark skin." She
opened her bag, and took out her laptop. "We can still use our
concection to the outer world. My computer has a battery."

Katrinka opened the laptop, the battery indicator showed that there
was only seven hours left on the computer's battery. After that she
would be without a computer.

Slowly she began to panic.


*********************************************************************


Getting There is Half the Fun
by The Knighties

Day and evening of July 27th, after Knight of the Living Dead and
before A Crusade of Knighties

*******

Marcia sighed heavily and directed her rented Windstar van through the
interstate traffic through Detroit, aiming for the Tunnel. The five
Knighties with her bickered good-naturedly over the music selection
and which episodes made the best audiotapes.  It had been a long haul
already from the Chicago area - various Knighties had been collected
enroute and next was the long stretch on the 401 to Toronto. No one
talked about the reason they were going to Toronto -- Cath and Perri
had been darned cryptic over the phone. But they had claimed to have
been in the Happy Souvlaki, so they probably just hadn't wanted to be
over heard. Still....

She tried not to think about it and settled down to drive. It was a
long way to Toronto yet.

*******

Carrie couldn't believe her brother had been so disbelieving about
this trip. After all, all she'd asked him to do was watch her dog and
cat while she flew to Toronto to help a vampire detective she hadn't
heard from in months. Not such a big deal. At least her boss had been
more laid-back about the news that she wouldn't be in on Monday -- of
course, she hadn't told him the friend of the family she was going to
help was of the blood-sucking variety.

The flight attendent called out her flight number and she got up,
hauling her carry-on bags with her. Tulsa to Toronto was a long
flight, but worth the trip.

Although she did wonder how Perri and Cath had gotten the plane ticket
paid for....

********

Paula navigated her way around Buffalo, trying to avoid the Saturday
evening traffic. She had two more Knighties to pick up, then they
would be on their way to Toronto. Again.

She stretched, trying to work out a kink in her back, and mentally
swore at her decision not to take the short route through Quebec. *But
you don't speak French, which is why you came through the States,* she
reminded herself for the fourteenth time. *Besides, there's no
Knighties in need of rides in Quebec.*

She sighed and turned the radio a little higher.

******

"You're not going without me this time!!" Lauren commanded, tapping
her foot as she watched Dotti grabbing a few quick things to pack.
Dotti tried desperately to ignore her, which when dealing with a teen
is, of course impossible.

"You left me here during the last War, coz you said I was too young. I
don't think that's a problem this time. Besides, I think the cause
could use some new "blood" pardon the pun, for a change." Dotti
considered for a moment and thought, "Ah, why not. It's about time you
got to meet Nick anyway, I guess. But the plane leaves in 2
hours....hurry up!!"

Lauren left the room, and came back with three pre packed suitcases
and a big smile, "I KNEW you'd say yes!!"

After Dotti recovered, she grabbed her stuff, pushed Lauren thru the
door and kissed Ed's cheek good-bye. He shut the door behind
them,blinking, wondering what had happened this time and why was he
always stuck with the kids....

******

Nancy sighed and tried once again to pry 8-year-old Rachel off her
leg, while resisting the urge to ask 11-year-old Zachary to knock off
the brick jokes. Bad enough this was her first trip by herself, but
the kids and the confused looks her husband kept giving her (which
looked suspiciously like he was about to call off the trip and call
the men in white jackets) were making things a little too interesting.
At least she already had a babysitter lined up.

"Look, Rachel, Mommy has to go help her friend Nick, so be a good girl
and go with your dad, okay?" She managed to get Rachel aimed in her
father's direction, then had to pry off Zachary, as he realized she
was actually leaving. Too many sniffles and "Are you sure?"'s later,
she got on the plane and collapsed in her seat, already looking out
the window towards the terminal and feeling homesick. But she was also
excited to finally be able to meet all of the Knighties -- and maybe,
just maybe, Nick.

She took one last look out the window as the plane took off, then
settled back to try to enjoy the ride. An adventure!

******

A highway patrol man looked up in confusion as a car rolled by, doing
precisely the speed limit. Haunting violin music spilled from the
windows, along with assorted giggles, squeals and something that
sounded like a vocal rendition of "We're Off to See the Nicky!"

Suze turned and waved out her side window as they passed the patrol
car. The patrolman shook his head and waved back, deciding there were
some things New Englanders were not meant to know.

*****

Well, she knew had been coming.  Maryann looked around the
Jacksonville airport.  The ticket had been waiting for her at the
check-in desk and so she was all ready to go.  She was still alittle
worried about her dogs but Tigon had told that the WoofPack would take
care of them and get a hold of her later.

<I hope that there is some one to pick me up once I get to Toronto>,
she thought to herself.  <Oh well the Knighties would make sure she
got where she needed to go.>  Seeing her flight number she perpared to
board the plane.  The next few weeks were going to be really
interesting.  With that thought Maryann grinned and let the flight
attendent just wonder as she handed away her boarding pass.

*****

Scottie got off the plane at the Toronto airport and waited with the
confidence of a long-time war veteran, certain that *someone* would be
there to meet her.

She was right. A small swarm of Knighties came barrelling through the
crowd, some of whom she recognized. "Scottie?" the woman in the lead
half-asked, half-yelled over the noise.

Scottie grinned. "Yes, that's me."

"Great, I'm Marg. You're our next to last pick-up in this load before
we head back to the loft -- there's just Nancy -- and Nina, but she
won't be here until Monday, we don't think. Cath and Perri are already
at the loft."

"I think Cath and Perri have been living at the loft and just don't
tell us."

Vickie, bringing up the rear with her huge camera bag thrown over her
shoulder, looked as if she was seriously considering that. "No," she
finally answered, "Perri was in a hotel for Shrew. She's too cheap to
spring for a hotel if she could be in the loft."

"Good point," Scottie admitted. "Come on, let's go."

******

They picked up Nancy -- who looked nervous, but calmed down after the
Knighties' rowdy welcome -- and piled into the car. Aside from a few
squeals when the CN Tower came into sight, they actually proceeded
fairly calmly to the loft. Two cars, a bike and a van were there ahead
of them.

"No transportation problems this time around," someone observed.

"Allie's here!" someone else squeaked.

There were a few more squeals as everyone greeted the Caddy, then they
piled themselves and the luggage into the elevator (a few smaller
members of the mob sat on the luggage, since no one wanted to wait for
a second trip) and emerged into the loft.

They were the last to arrive. Knighties sprawled everywhere, music was
already going on a portable CD player, and two people were squabbling
over episodes near the TV. It didn't seem likely they'd be watching
any of them, though, since all of the light in the room came from
candles.

Vicki and Scottie both put their bags down as soon as they stepped
foot in the room, and braced themselves to receive the Patented Perri
Flying Hug, which arrived right on schedule. A few minutes of rampant
greetings, then the group settled back down.

"Very atmospheric," Scottie observed, gesturing at the candles.

"The electricity won't be on until Monday," Cath replied, kicking
someone's duffle bag out of her path so she could make it to the
couch. Once there, she whistled for attention, and the Knighties
quieted.

"I suppose you're all wondering why we called you here...."


*********************************************************************


THE N&NPACK MEET

by Laura MacMillan and the N&NPack
July 27,1996            6pm
Toronto, Ontario

I arrived at Susan Bennett's shortly after 6pm. As soon as I got
through the door the could feel the tension in the air. The room went
silent, everyone waited for some explaination of why they had been
called here. I was surprised to find  all the N&NPack already here. I
scanned the crowd, yes all 31 of them were here. I mustered up a
smile.

"Hi everyone, I'm so glad you could all make it. It's good to see you
all, I wish it were under different circumstances."

"Soul please tell us what has happened," Chana urged.

I smiled-most of the N&NPack had taken to calling me by my alias,
rather than my real name. My thoughts were broken by the sudden frenzy
of voices questioning me. Exhusted I walked past them to the living
room and plopped down on the sofa. I sighed heavily.

"Please sit down everyone and I'll explain everything."

"Laura, would you like something to drink?" offered Susan.

"Some ice tea would be nice. Thanks Susan."

I watched as everyone found a place to sit, most ended up on the
floor. Since some of them had not, met I decided it was best to do
introductions then get down to business.

"I'm going to the introductions first then why can get down to why you
were called here. Everyone please give a little wave when I call your
name. Thanks. "

I started left to right.

"Mel, Chana, Heather DeLong, Susan Bennett, Gayle, Scott, Idalia, Ray,
Pat, Judith, Kevin, Carrie, Paula, Jenn D., Charlette, Tia, Lisa M.,
Kelly Lieser, Arletta, Sun, Rebecca, Melissa G., Melissa T., Mirror,
Friday, Leslie P., Lauren, Debbi,  John Folden, Erin F. and Kristen."

I had delayed it long enough, I had to tell them what had happened.

"Yesterday afternoon, just after I got home from work, I got a phone
call. The call was from Captain Reese. It seems that the Knighties and
the Cousins have both been spotted here in Toronto and you know what
that means. "

"War," Pat answered with excitement in her voice.

"It won't be the same with Nick and Nat missing," Lisa sadly responded

"Reguardless of  where Nick and Nat are we they still need us to keep
the faith, " replied Mel

"And to protect their love from those, who would destroy it." Chana
added

"This is a war we are going to win, right?"  I exclaimed

"Right!!" everyone yelled in unison.

Mel smiled at me knowingly. They were ready. It was time to lay down
the plans that we had been prepared since the end of the last war.

"Everyone will be staying here at Susan's. Okay you all know what
needs to be done so let's do it. We don't have much time before the
other factions will be ready," I stated


*********************************************************************


The Fang Gang
By Elizabeth Ann Lewis
Time Immemorial-Saturday, July 27th, Evening
Toronto

In the beginning there was nothing.  No light, no planet.  Very
boring. But let's skip ahead a few billion years, shall we, to when
life got interesting--the invention of the Internet.  Specifically,
AOL.  (Oh, hush, AOL isn't *that* bad!)

On AOL, there grew a group of people devoted to Forever Knight, who
called themselves the Fang Gang.  Most of the members of the Fang Gang
thought that Forever Knight was nothing but a really cool TV show.

That is, until the First Fang Gang War.

In January, LaCroix approached one of the FGers, Lizbet, in an effort
to gain help in getting rid of people who were threatening the vampire
community with extingsion.  A few members of the FG banded together to
try to stop this contagion.  In the meantime, LaCroix seduced or
almost-seduced most of the female members of the FG, Screed took a
trip to New York, the head of a cable company (who shall remain
nameless) got her office covered in green slime, and Lizbet got paid
for her services with a credit card that *almost* had no limit, given
to her by a vampire named Angelique.

In March, the FG got together in New Orleans for a ball--and for the
Second Fang Gang War.  In that one, crossovers galore ensued as Nick
got made mortal by Q (yes, that Q), the Abarat was found and lost and
Lizbet fell in love with another vampire named Sion Llanddu.

In May, the FG got together in Chicago for a convention, and found out
from Fox Mulder and Dana Scully that vampires were being kidnapped by
aliens and couldn't be found.  Yup, you guessed it--the Third Fang
Gang War.  With Tigon and her pack of vampire dogs (aided by Perry and
Jodi) they followed clues and travelled to the British Isles to help
free vampires.

Things have been quiet since then, until the call came to Toronto.
Lizbet decided to rent the house that had been owned by Dr. Ben Magee.
Unfortunately, this maxed out her credit card, and since she had just
found out that Angelique, the "vampire" who had given it to her was
actually a deluded mortal, and she needed to make money--fast.

Lizbet sighed as she approached the gorgeous house.  She loved it, but
unfortunately the rent was non-refundable.  She unlocked the door, and
stepped into the furnished living room, complete with telephone and
answering machine.  The answering machine was beeping insistently.

"Hwyl, Lizbet.  Tigon here.  Is it OK if the Woofpack uses the Fang
Gang House?  Well, since I'm part of the Fang Gang and since you *did*
say that anyone of us could invite our friends... well?  Nos da."

"Great.  I rent the most beautiful house in Toronto and Tigon wants to
bring a pack of dogs into it.  A pack of *vampire* dogs, at that!
Rules," Lizbet muttered.  "We need rules."

On the elegant front door of the gracious house was posted a list,
done in a delicate calligraphic hand on fine paper.

1.  This house is the for the sole use of the members of the Fang Gang
and their friends.  No one else may enter without permission. 2.  No
fighting allowed.  Plotting, yes (like I could stop you), fighting,
no. 3.  Permission for parties must be asked of the den mother
(Lizbet) ahead of time.  Clean up after yourself and refill the
fridge.

Lizbet left messages for the members of the Fang Gang telling them
where they could pick up their keys to the house, then locked the door
and left.

The Fang Gang was ready for War.
----------------------------------------
Note, yes there were major crossovers in our Wars.  We made our own
rules. Don't worry, no crossovers will occur in *this* war!


*********************************************************************


Hidden Reasons
by: Abby Albrecht
Time: 6ish night

Nick's building didn't smell as bad as she thought it would. Just
slightly gross, in that musky, industrial strength way. Abby waited
across the street for the loft's elevator door to open.

Her client had been claer about what would happen. A young woman would
leave the building and Abby would hand her a package. *Nothing more
than a mailperson,* Abby thought to herself. *I should have let Dianne
do this. She's better prepared.*

Just then the door opened. Abby knew this woman. It was Katrinka, the
Knightie. *Well, whatever.* She thought as she headed over.

"Hi?" Katrinka said warily. "Are you the person I'm supposed to meet?"

"Unless you've scheduled more than one mysterious meeting in the
dark." Abby smiled as she reached into her handy dandy trench coat.
"This is from a friend. She wants you to put it somewhere where all
the Knighties can see."

Reaching for the package, Katrinka responded, "I'll try. But It
depends what it is."

"I don't know." Abby shook her head. "I choose not to know what I
deliver. It's safer that way." With that Abby walked into the
darkness.

Seconds later Katrinka had the package open. It looked... Gold? She
turned the flat sheet of gold over. On the top was engraved
"Guidelines To a Happy War by Diane E. and Abby A."

Taped to the bottom was a note.

"I asked them to write these guidelines. Then I asked them to post
them to both FK lists so everyone would read them. Why didn't you? The
guidelines were written to make the war smoother. Is that so bad?

Sincerely,
Tired"

Katrinka was furious. How dare somebody tell her how to write! Yet...
No, this wasn't Abby's fault. She was just the courier.
--------------

End
And yes, I was hired for this.


*********************************************************************


The Howl to Arms (1/3)
by Tigon Diana Hooker

Early evening-27 JUL 1996
Los Angeles


Tigon muttered and grumbled nastybad things under her breath as her
computer screen froze once more. Pondering whether to fling herself or
the computer off a high-building, she gazed through the window only to
notice the darkening sky.

It was feeding time at the zoo.

By the time she fed the fishies, two birds, one rabbit, eighteen cats,
three dogs, and one black leopard cub, it was fully dark. Perfect
timing, thought Tigon as she went to the industrial size refridgerator
in her utility room. She heaved up the top and began the large task of
filling up seven dog bowls and one very large washtub with blood. She
had received a new shipment only yesterday from a source that one of
her...uh...more interesting acquaintances had set her up with.

She had just filled the last bowl when they began streaming through
the open skylight in her den. Tigon had long since given up worrying
about where they holed up during the daytime. It was either that or
become a basket case. She suspected and hoped that they had found
hidey-holes on the two-acre piece of land that her family lived on.
The attic space in the registered Historical Landmark Mansion her
parents kept their law office and home in was more than enough to hold
them all. So was the basement. Her little side house 100 ft. from the
mansion could maybe shelter only half comfortably.

Mentally shaking herself, she wandered through the drinking animals
and greeted each one. First she greeted Harry-Jack, her Granddaddy's
childhood dog and the creator of the rest of her pack. Harry-Jack was
a Harrier Hound...a rabbit hunter who had the tables turned on him one
fateful night when he took trail to a vampire rabbit. Granddaddy, just
a boy, had seen the whole thing, and kept it wisely to himself. Harry-
Jack, ever the faithful hound, had saved him from many boyish mishaps
afterward. Then he protected Granddaddy's children, without their
knowledge. But Tigon was Granddaddy reborn...a kindred soul in his old
age that he told the truth to, and on his deathbed he commanded Harry-
Jack to watch over her.

Harry-Jack had needed help...a lot of help...to keep watch over Tigon.
Which is why Tigon now stared around at a grand total of seven
'vamppuppies.' In addition to Harry-Jack, there was Stretch and
Rascal, dachshaunds from her childhood; Sheba, a mutt from her youth
that had an unfortunate and early end; Ace, a black Shepherd mix, Ali,
a dobie, and Smoke, a yellow Shephard mix... from her teens and early
twenties. Smoke was the newest vamppuppie, brought across last April.
Also present and drinking from the washtub was a black leopard named
Cleo...also a vampire. Cleo and the cub, Lucius, were the legacy of a
3000 year old vampire...either that or a totally whacked mortal (Tigon
hadn't yet decided which). Last, but certainly not least, was Timon...
her beloved rat. When Timon had reached death's door last month, she
had browbeaten Harry-Jack into bringing the rodent across. Timon
couldn't go to work with her any more, but at least she still had him
at home...though the poor fellow missed his crackers, he was otherwise
unchanged.

Feeding time over, she let the pack frolic as she cleaned up, then
took them to the enclosed area behind her little house. Of course,
enclosures meant nothing to creatures that flew, but it kept the cub
in. It also kept in the mortal members of the pack, whom she had put
there after they had eaten. It had taken some time to meld the various
members of the pack together-the mortal with the immortal, the dogs
with the cats with the rat--but they were now a solid unit. She
regarded Taylor, her English Pointer/Dobie mix with careful eyes;
soon, too soon, she suspected he would be brought over. The other two
mortal dogs were Tristam, a gentle pit-bull, and Con, an obnoxious
little yellow mutt... the Tracy Vetter of dogdom.

Over in the corner with the cub, Cleo suddenly glared skyward and
hissed. The pack also stilled and stared upward as Tigon's stomach
plummeted downward. If Harry-Jack had been away on one of his lengthy
meanderings, she would have thought him returning. Since he was
standing by her...well, there could be only bad news arriving.

A Golden Retriever swooped down into her yard.

Sighing, Tigon watched as the dogs greeted one another...the sniffing
of rear ends not confined to mortal dogs, apparently. She also
restrained Cleo before sending her inside with the cub. Unfortunately,
Tigon hadn't had an opportunity to train the leopards to behave with
strange animals. Finally, the Retriever broke away and bounded over to
Tigon, barking and whimpering and sounding like a stupid pet trick on
Letterman.

Kneeling down beside him, Tigon said, "What is it, Perry? What is it,
boy?" More whimpering yaps as Perry stared hard at her with glowing
eyes, willing her to understand. Tigon focused, "What? You say that
Nick's in trouble? He needs help?" Tigon suddenly felt like she had
landed in a bad episode of Lassie.


*********************************************************************


The Howl to Arms (2/3)
by Tigon Diana Hooker

Evening-27 JUL 1996 (immediatly following part 1)
Los Angeles


Tigon had gotten enough info from Perry to know that she was going to
be away for a while. This time, however, she wouldn't be taking the
van she had jury-rigged for the pack's travelling purposes. Perry had
given her a very clear image of Jody waiting at the airport with a
plane.

She quickly penned a note to her parents, leaving them explicit
instructions for feeding the (mortal) animals. Looking at the
leopards, she found herself in a quandry...her parents didn't know
about them (particularly Cleo), but they would be too dangerous to
take. Finally she remembered her blood-connection and rang him up.
"Hi!" she said as cheerfully as she could.

It took some arm-twisting, threats, and bribes (from an account set up
for the leopards' care) to convince the person on the other end that
*she* knew that *he* knew about her unusual situation, and that it
would be for the best if he were to cat-sit.

That done, she fitted the dogs with their custom-made saddlebags.
Modelled after camping packs for dogs, these were made from sturdy
double reinforced leather. The saddlebags each held anywhere from a
quart to a gallon of blood (or kibble) depending on the size of the
dog. There were three kevlar plates protecting each dog's vunerable
torso...a modification since a staking incident. The mortal dogs'
saddlebags had a special loop on the back, so that a vamppuppie could
carry them in flight. Tigon put on her own thick, heavily reinforced
jacket and her ever present backpack o' useful things (including Timon
in his lego house). Nodding to Perry and Ace, who took loops on her
jacket shoulders firmly between their teeth, she signalled the pack to
air. Smoke carried Tristam while Harry-Jack carried Taylor and Stretch
carried Con.

She actually liked flying, once she had come up with a jacket design
that didn't shred midflight and realized which dogs were dependable
carriers. Too soon she was gently placed on the LAX tarmac near a
small hangar. Inside was Jody, readying up a large Lear jet. Tigon
noticed that most of the windows were blocked off. She and the dogs
trotted in.

"Noswaith dda, Jody."

"Where the hell have you been!" demanded the vampire. Tigon's eyebrows
arched, but she remained silent rather than snarling. After several
tense seconds, Jody finally said, "We've been trying to get hold of
you for nearly a week."

"We?"

"Me, on behalf of Perry's conniption fits, and the rest of the pack."

"REST of the pack???" Tigon's eyebrows nearly catapulted off her face
as she contemplated taking in even *more* animals.

Jody frowned then spoke very carefully, exaggerating her lip movement.
"Can you understand me? Didn't you regain any of your hearing after
the explosion?" She asked, referring to an incident occuring the last
time she and Tigon had met.

Tigon mouthed back just as exaggeratedly, "Yes, I'm back to normal
hearing range...which is half-deaf, thank you. Why are we talking like
this?"

"Oh, I don't have time for this." Jody replied, "Just get your pack on
the plane and figure it out for yourself."


*********************************************************************


The Howl to Arms (3/3)
by Tigon Diana Hooker

Evening-27 JUL 1996 (immediately following part 2)
Los Angeles


Tigon's first though upon entering the plane was horror...there were
eleven dogs of varying breeds lounging in a large open area. :::where
the heck will I put them all?::: she thought to herself. Her next
emotion was alarm as twenty some dogs got territorial. She quickly
hushed hers as Perry glared down the others. Faced with sudden calm,
Tigon then progressed to soppy state.

"Awwwww, look at all the pretty puppies."

Nearly half were vampires, the rest mortal. All were gorgeous in
Tigon's opinion. There were more dachshaunds, some sort of wolf-mix,
two huge Vieschlas, and an Ausie Shepherd, to name a few. Tigon petted
and hugged and cooed like a fool before finally noticed that there
were two creatures of the human variety watching. Tigon blinked, and
blinked again...then stopped herself before she was mistaken for a
Vaquera.

"Hi, Tigon!" said the man. He was a large fellow, goateed and wearing
glasses, and Tigon suspected that though he looked as though you could
pinch-an-inch, he was mostly muscle. Her brain informed her that she
had met him before, and struggled to link when and where exactly that
was.

CLICK! went her brain as the connection was made. She had met him
briefly at Cousin Cherri's party...wait, now she remembered, while
flying on a Ribena-Sugar-High, she had inadvertantly let something
slip about her Pack. Most people had laughed, assuming she was joking,
but he had pulled her to the side and cautiously mentioned his own
vamppuppies. Just in case, Tigon had played dumb, but as soon as she
got home she had sent Harry-Jack out to find Perry. "Steve...hi."
Tigon said.

"Thanks for sending Perry to me."

"Uh, yeah, you're welcome." replied Tigon, shooting a quick glare at
the dog in question. He *could* have let her know about this. "Are
these all yours?"

Steve shook his head, "No, the Rotweiler/Lab mix is Athena, the
Shepherd is Gorgeous (Tigon had to smile, for the name fitted), and
the Scottie is Scotch." All three were vamppuppies, and Tigon
sincerely hoped that Scotch didn't have the encouraged Scottie
temperment...i.e., biting everything that moves. Steve indicated the
other human, "This is Becky."

The young woman seemed both shy and bubbly. "Hi...um, the two
Vieschlas are mine, mother and son...both named Tiffiny. Don't ask. I
call the male 'Tif' for short." The two Tiffinies were vamppuppies,
but the rest of her indicated dogs were mortal. "Uh," Becky continued,
"The Samoyed is Shahara, the wolf-mix is Atasha or 'Scruffy,' and the
Dachsie is Fritz."

Tigon paused for a moment to particularly admire Fritz and Scruffy,
before realizing there were three unclaimed dogs. "Er, whose are
those."

"Those belong to a woman named Maryann," came Jody's voice behind
her." Hating how quiet vampires could be, Tigon turned to face her.
"Perry set it up somehow...she's already in Toronto with the Knighties
and is going to act as a liason between the you and them."

"What?" Tigon did her very best guppy imitation, "What?"

"We've been trying to get hold of you all week." Jody snapped at her,
"Don't you answer your email?"

"My computer's been *down* all week! Haven't you heard of a phone?"

"It was busy."

Pausing, Tigon recalled the massive amounts of time spent calling
every computer expert she knew, not to mention the time spent
downloading updated drivers from the net the few times the computer
cooperated. "Er...um...you could have sent a telegram! Just once I'd
like to have more than five minutes to get ready for an adventure with
Perry the WonderDog!"


*********************************************************************


THE POWER OF LOVE

by Susan B. (cd397@torfree.net)
      Laura MacMillan (soulseek@sprynet.com)
N&NPack
9pm (still daylight)
Saturday, July 27,1996
Toronto, Ontario

---------------------
Chana, Susan, Tia, Scott and myself all piled into the car. Scott
turned the key and started up the engine. Tia piped up from the back
seat, "I'm really nervous about this."

"Don't worry!" the other four N&NPackers shouted together. I turned
back to Tia, "It's a good plan - it *will* work!" We all took in a
deep breath as we pulled out of the driveway. Everyone remained silent
during the thirty minute drive, as contemplating Cousins was a
sobering experience. Scott stopped the car for a few blocks down the
street from CERK.

Chana, fidgeting with a bag in the back seat cried, "To arms!" . I
scanned the street nervously while the others were readying their
ammo. "We'll do everything exactly the way we planned. Catch them off-
guard. Just pull right up, get out, and march right up to the door."

Putting the car back in gear, we drove slowly up the street, pulling
over to the curb directly in line with the CERK's front door. We
climbed out of the car, marched brazenly up to the glass doors, and
walked through. We headed to the elevator.

The moment elevator doors opened on the floor where the Cousins were
lodging, Susan started showering the nearest Cousin, Cousin Denise,
with red rose petals. Cousin Denise backed away in terror and Susan
stepped inside. Tia followed her in and started tossing white rose
petals into the air. The room was filled with the heavenly romantic
scent of roses. Chana entered next, holding a flask of holy water and
sprinkling it gracefully into the air. Other Cousins heard the
commotion and came running. We could hear a mooing sound coming from
down the hall and it seemed to be getting closer.

Much to our surprise, in walked Cousin Cherri dressed in a cow suit
with a mooing object attached to her leg.  We burst out laughing at
the sight of her, momentarily forgetting our task. The Cousins took
that moment to strike, but it was no use. The shower of rose petals
and holy water was definitely taking its toll on them.

The Cousins had been weakened by the assault, but they weren't out of
the fight yet. Opening the book in my hands I asked menacingly, "Where
is your chocolate?" The Cousins were stubborn and wouldn't reply. I
demanded, "Tell me now or I'll start to read!" The Cousins recoiled in
horror, but still they would not talk.

I started reciting romantic poetry from the book, and the Cousins
started dropping like flies. Cousin Cherri was the last one to fall.
As she fell to the ground she cried out, "Please stop.. moo..
torturing us..moo.. with that..moo.. slop!" But the N&NPack were
relentless. The Cousins never talked, even as they lay moaning and
helpless on the floor.

The N&NPackers looked at each other triumphantly. Susan, Tia and Chana
started to search for the chocolate while Scott and I stood guard over
the Cousins-rose petals, holy water, and love poems at the ready.

The N&NPackers found a stash of chocolate, and they suspected this
pile was just the tip of the iceberg. Susan, Tia and Chana  filled up
four totebags full and hardly made a dent in the supply. They made
haste for the elevator and held it open. I then slipped into the
elevator, leaving Scott inside to fend off the Cousins.

Scott read a particularly mushy verse from the book, to keep the
Cousins weak long enough for him to get away. Then he quickly backed
into the elevator and the heavy doors closed. We rushed out of the
building and piled into the car. Once in the safety of the car we
raced for home at the quickest possible speed, laughing uncontrollably
the whole way.


*********************************************************************


Chocolate Offense
by Cousin Tok (tokaara@ix.netcom.com)

Saturday, July 27,1996
Toronto, Ontario
immediately after "The Power of Love"


Cousin Tok made her way into the Cousins' living quarters, stepping
carefully around the insensate Cousins on the floor.  She'd been
tending to CERK business downstairs when she'd seen and heard the
N&NPackers leaving. Now what the HELL had they been here for?

There were rose petals everywhere.  "What happened in here?  It looks
like a florist's shop exploded," she said to Cousin Merlin as he
twined around her legs as even cousinly tabbies were wont to do.

"Meowr," he offered.  Cousin Willow galloped into the room, skidded on
the rose petals, bounced off a stray backpack on the floor, and
performed a vault off an unconscious Cousin that made Kerri Strug's
gold medal winning performance a few days before look like a "1".

Cousin Tok shook her head in disbelief.  "You two are no help!"  She
knelt by the nearest Cousin and shook her.  "What happened here?  What
were the N&NPackers here for?  What did they do to you?"

She moaned and muttered something that sounded like "love poetry",
pointing at the Cousins' chocolate stash.  "Oh no, anything but that!"
Tok exclaimed, jumping to her feet and running to the stash.  Damn --
the chocolate truffles Cousin Toni brought from Seattle were gone.
This could *not* be tolerated.

Shaking a few of the Cousins into semi-consciousness, Tok left them to
the task of cleaning up.  Meanwhile, she went to the kitchen, delved
into her own private stash of Bailey's-flavored Haagen-Dazs, and sat
down to plan her own personal revenge.


*********************************************************************


"Old Friends in Familiar Places" or something similarly hokie
Saturday, July 27th
Somewhere in Toronto
Evening, about 9:00PM
By Elizabeth Ann Lewis

"Too busy at CERK," Cousin Bianca grumbled as she took the drop cloths
off of the equipment.  It was a good thing they left their command
center intact after the last War, since it was turning out to be
surprising popular.

Cousin erica sat with her feet up, listening as the CD player switched
from Gavin Friday to U2.  "Yeah, too noisy, to crowded.  But oh, the
shame.  We went to all the trouble to set this place up, and nothing
happened last time.  Nothing at all."

She was immediately buried in dust-covered drop clothes, and fought
her way out from under them to do serious damage to her sister.  But
when a knock sounded on the door of the higher level, erica and Bianca
froze for a second.  Only the Cousins were supposed to know about this
place, and they were using the lower level.  Which meant the person at
the door was...

"Lizbet!"  After a few moments of enthusiastic greeting, the short
Merc crossed the room.  "Careful!" Bianca said.  "We installed a trap
door since you were here last.  You wouldn't want to fall down on top
of the Cousins."

Lizbet glanced down and carefully skirted the vague square on the
floor. "This place is cool!" she enthused.  "I didn't get much of a
chance to see it last time.  I spent all my time at CERK."

erica crossed her arms and tapped her foot.  "Why aren't you at Merc
Central?  As cool as this place is, i'm sure that they have a lot more
stuff over there."

Lizbet spent a few minutes drooling over the computer before
answering. "Um, well you see, it's a sticky situation.  I don't have
any ready money, my first two jobs are really favors for friends more
than anything else, so the pay is minimal.  And my Guild dues are due,
not to mention rent on my room at Merc Central.  So I think it is
better for my health if I avoid that place as much as possible.  Not
to mention the fact that I'm *surrounded* by Trojans over there!"

Bianca looked over at the uncharacteristically humble Lizbet.  "You
mean, you're desperate?  No where to turn?  Need us, your friends, in
order to survive?  Coooooool."

"Look, I'll pay you back," Lizbet promised.  "Better.  I'll do any job
you want, and that will be my rent."

erica stared at her consideringly for a moment.  "i'll think about
it." She smiled.  "Trust me, you'll be the first person we think of
when we say, 'Shoot, we need a Merc.'"

Lizbet crossed to the computer and started to telnet to her account.
"Just as long as you don't say, 'We need to shoot a Merc,' I'm fine."

They spent a few more minutes talking, and then erica and Bianca
decended to the lower level, taking a bust of LaCroix with them.  The
faint sound of thumping echoed for a few minutes as they nailed the
trapdoor shut.

It didn't take long for another knock to sound on the door.

This time, Lizbet didn't hesitate to answer it.  She had promised to
keep the command center's location a secret, but she trusted this
person implicitly.

She was, however, surprised to see that Toni, aka Ma Wombat, was
bipedal rather than in wombat form.  Her human appearance was a couple
of inches taller than Lizbet (which meant she was merely short rather
than midget-like) with brown hair.  Lizbet dragged her inside and shut
the door.

"Ma!  Why aren't you a wombat?" she demanded.

Ma stared at her in shock.  "I can't morph!" she wailed.

For several seconds, Lizbet just stood there, surprised and dismayed. 
A wombat's ability to morph between wombat form and human was what
defined them.  Then understanding broke.  "It's because you're in the
Forever Knight universe," she explained.  "I think that your morphing
abilities don't work here.  But that's fine.  I have a *lot* for you
to do..."


*********************************************************************


Vaquero Summer Fun 2/2
Location: In Transit from Illinois to Ontario
Time: Saturday Afternoon, Evening, July 27th.
By Sherri Campbell & Torrey Harris

Takes place directly after Vaquero Summer Fun 1/2
------------------------------------------------------------
Approximately 1 pm.
********************
The loud whistle stopped the noise at the party. Torrey stood on a
chair, and waited for all eyes to focus on her. "Listen up, everyone! 
We think there is something starting, the Knighties and Cousins are
converging on Toronto." The Vaquero/as stood mute in surprise.  Torrey
continued her speech. "We have made arrangements for transportation to
Toronto; does everyone want to go?"

The resultant cacaphony was nearly enough to be heard in Toronto.
Sherri put her hands over her ears, as Torrey whistled piercingly
again.  Again, silence descended.

"All right, I take it it is unanimous.  Due to the generosity of our
friend Apache, we have transportation to Toronto.  Our flight leaves
in two hours."

The Vaqueras scattered to start packing.
                      * * * *

Approximately 3 pm.
********************
Apache stood on the tarmac, inspecting the Learjet.  It appeared
adequately maintained, so she relaxed slightly.

The chattering of excited voices approaching distracted her slightly
from her thoughts.  The Vaqueros were nearly bouncing in their
eagerness to get to Toronto.

"Okay, listen up! Let's *quietly* board the plane, and get going.  Who
knows what all those people are up to in Toronto!"  Torrey was nearly
shaking in frustration, worried about what was happening in Toronto.

Finally, all were aboard, the luggage was stowed, and the plane was
taxiing to take-off.  They were on their way.
                      *******

Approx 9 pm.
*************
The Vaqueros were milling on the sidewalk in front of the car rental
agency.  Torrey and Sherri came out of the building and smiled.

Sherri spoke. "We're in luck, everyone. We were able to rent four
large vans.  That will give us lots of leeway in running errands and
transporting us to where we need to go.

Storm spoke up. "Hey, Sherri? Just where *are* we going?" The others
nodded in confirmation.

Torrey cut in before Sherri could respond. "We are going to go the the
old Church.  We stayed there last war, and I'm sure it will be okay
for us to stay there this war."

While Torrey was explaining the details of her plan, Sherri was
distracted by the sight of a familiar figure exiting the door behind
her.

"Kat?!! What are you doing here?!" The petite blonde wearing a black
jersey dress and black straw hat with the long braid down her back
strolled over to Sherri.

"Hi, Sherri! I had to fly up for a medical conference.  I plan to take
in a few plays, live it up on the local night life... you know. The
usual.  My question for you is, What are *you* doing here? And, isn't
that Torrey?"

"Yes, that is Torrey. We are up here in response to some rumors we
heard." Noting that the Vaqueros were heading for the vans, she turned
back to Kat. "We are staying at the Old Church.  Look us up if you
can."  Giving her friend a final hug, she strode over to the first
van, and got in.

Kat stood on the curb watching the Vaqueros driving away. "Oh, my.
That looked like *all* the Vaqueros.  This could be interesting."


*********************************************************************


Candy is Dandy
by Lisa McDavid
This takes place directly after the N&N leave CERK in Overpowering
Love, and over the next few hours.

Note to Cousins: This is *not* the opportunity I just mentioned on the
loop.

"Bravo," said Lacroix, stepping off the elevator and surveying the
scene on the second floor. "Especially Cherri. You may yet deserve
redemption. Now, Lisa, you organize a broom squad to get the rose
petals off the floor and dry up the holy water spots. We wouldn't want
to damage the parquet, would we?"

One of the younger Cousins who had volunteered to act as decoys looked
bewildered. She whispered a question as Lisa went by.

Lisa shook her head. "No, of course it doesn't bother him. There's no
canon that holy water bothers FK vampires. Besides, all the rest of us
are mortals."

The younger cousin nodded, but still looked puzzled.

This time Lisa produced a grin that eerily resembled Uncle's. "We
don't have to bother. I'm just glad I'm not in that van."

Cherri, Lacroix and Tok returned to the elevator, scanned their hands
into the door lock just as Olympic officials and athletes had to do in
Atlanta. Laughing at the gulliblity of N&N-ers who thought Cousin
Headquarters would truly be open to walk-ins, they rode up.

Meanwhile, back in the N&N van, conversation had trailed off as
everybody ate chocolates. All mouths were full, which meant that the
"WHUMPHHHH!" as a 10 pound sack of chocolates with liqueur centers
exploded was greeted with choking. The van flew onto the sidewalk and
slammed headon into a telephone pole.

The police arrived before the N&Ns could get the chocolate out of
their eyes, which were stinging anyway from the alcohol, out of their
ears, which meant they were all staggering, and out of their mouths,
which meant they were all incoherent.

We draw a veil over the hours during which all were arrested for drunk
and disorderly and in the case of the driver, dui. We do not go into
detail about the unfortunate situation when Scott, mistakenly placed
in a cell with an irate, English-speaking kangaroo called Dawkins, was
kayoed on the first punch. We do not allude to that truly painful
moment when a large part of the war chest had to be handed over as
bail, or the moment when the garage and body shops provided their
estimates on repairs to the van.

No, we simply move on several hours to N&N headquarters, where more
chocolates from CERK are being consumed. Then we fade to black as the
syrup of ipecac, laced into the candies -- it's normally used as an
emetic in poison control -- sent everybody gagging and running for the
bathrooms.

(Note: this last paragraph is a blatant steal from Naked Once More by
Elizabeth Peters. I gratefully acknowledge this.)


*********************************************************************


The Lights Aren't On; Nobody's Home
Location: Vachon's Church
Time: July 27th, approximately 10 pm. on
By: Torrey Harris & Sherri Campbell
*****************
Takes place after Vaquero Summer Fun, 2/2


Torrey stood outside of the church looking at the doors wondering what
she was going to find inside. /I really don't want to go in there!/

"What are you waiting for?" Sherri whispered in her ear, making her
jump and her heart lodge somewhere in her throat.

"I, ummmm, I was just looking." Turning her head she looked back at
the other 25 or so Vaqueras waiting for her to make the first move.
Turning to the door she took a hold of the handle and gave a good
yank. *Creeeeeaaaakkkkk*

"Wow!" Cindy observed, as the door slowly groaned its way open. "I
guess no one has used the door in a long time."

"I don't get it." Torrey said, "It's not like he has been gone all
that long."

"Well, it's not like he used the door much." Sherri countered
seriously, with a slight gleam in her eye.

"What?" Torrey asked confusedly.

"You know, he....." Sherri made little wings with her hands and
flapped them furiously, making Torrey snort, trying not to burst out
laughing. The other Vaqueros were muffling giggles, nervously watching
the blackness inside the door.

"Come on you guys, this stuff is getting heavy." Bonnie whined semi-
piteously, shifting her bags from one shoulder to the other.

"Okay. Bonnie, Apache, get up here, and give your stuff to the others
to carry. I need your hands free." Torrey reached down and picked up
four large sticks out of the bushes next to the door, handing them out
to the people around her. "Okay, let's go in."

"Hey, what is the stick for?" Apache asked suspiciously.

Turning with a slow smile Torrey answered by waving her stick back at
them. "Simple. If anything moves in here, I want you to hit it with
your stick until it stops moving... Especially if it has a long tail
and fur."  With an evil smile, Torrey turned back to the door and
entered the dark Church followed by the rest of the Vaqueras sporting
sticks, backpacks, and other assorted makeshift anti-rat devices.

An unidentified voice in the back of the pack muttered "Where's Screed
when you really need him??"

The trip through the church was relatively uneventful. Other than a
few false alarms, the group made it down to the bottom level and
dumped their stuff in a pile in the middle of the floor. Cindy went to
work lighting all of the candles, and a collective gasp went up from
the Vaqueros who had been here before.

"Wow, he got furniture!" Torrey whispered, looking around. "I mean it
looks like a nice place now." Shaking herself out of her musings, she
called everyone together. "O.K. guys, we have a lot of work to do
tonight. First, we need to get Vachon, and yes, that means that we
will be digging."

"Excuse me?" a small voice called from the back of the group. "Ummm,
what is to keep him from going after one of us once we get him up?"
McKenna asked. A round of nods and questioning looks made their way
around the group and landed all eyes squarely on Torrey, who, thinking
fast, came up with the first thing to cross her mind.

"I know a way to keep him stuck in the grave until we can get the
blood to him." Torrey blurted, wondering what the heck she was getting
herself into. "I have taken care of everything; all we need is blood
to keep him busy until he calms down."

"Where did you get blood?" Stephanie asked a little warily.

"I didn't. I hired a Merc to get it for us. She should be here very
soon and then we can go."

As the Vaqueros waited for the friendly neighborhood Merc to bring
their take-out order, they planned their strategy for the night.

Terry & Toni were whispering in one corner, and nodding in agreement,
turned to Torrey. "Torrey? What do we do once we get the blood?"

Torrey smiled.  "We go down to the riverside," she gestured at a spot
on the map on the wall, "and, we resurrect him."

Heather looked doubtful. "But, Torrey? What do we do then?"

Torrey grinned. "Well, once we get him fed, we'll just see what he
wants to do.  After all, we are his guests.  Any other questions?"  As
everyone shook their head "no", Torrey clapped her hands. "Okay guys,
this is it.....Let's go get our boy."

The Vaqueros trotted up the stairs, separating into groups to crawl
into the various vans.  It was nearly midnight. Sherri noticed a
petite blond standing near her van.  "Hey, Kat! Great to see you,
again! What are you doing *here*?"

Torrey drew close as Kat replied. "I thought you might be going to try
and resurrect Vachon.  I thought you might like to have a physician on
hand."

Torrey thought about it. "Well, yes, that would be all right.  I'd
prefer you wait in the van until we get him up, though."

"No problem. *I* don't want to be the first thing a hungry vampire
lays his eyes on!"

Several nearby Vaqueros rolled their eyes at the thought. Torrey
noticed their squeamishness, and started chivvying everyone into the
vans. "All right everyone. The drivers of these three vans - you guys
go ahead and head for this point on the river.  As soon as the Merc
arrives with the blood, we'll be there.  Don't try to do anything
until we get there!"
                      * * * *

Lounging against the steps of the church, Torrey looked up and down
the street.

"Are you sure she's coming?" Sherri asked, watching Torrey.

"Yeah, I'm sure... she's a Merc, you know they have honor in what they
do." Stepping to the van, and reaching inside, Torrey pulled out a
wrapped package. "Plus, I have something she wants." Headlights
flashed across the van and Torrey looked up to see a dark-blue car
come to a rest at the curb. As the driver got out Torrey looked her
over. "Hmmm, dark brown hair, fair skin...I think that's our Merc."

"Are you sure?" Sherri asked, looking over the new arrival. The driver
looked at the two of them, then popped a Tums into her mouth.

"Yep. That's her." Torrey said with a smile.

Working together they loaded the bottles into the van, leaving one
crate behind at the church. Torrey handed over the wrapped package to
Mel, then said good-bye.

As the Merc drove off, Sherri spoke. "What was in the package?"

"Something no Merc can resist." Torrey said, grinning. "Godiva
truffles."

With the loading done, they climbed into the last van and headed off
to the riverside. It was time to get busy.


*********************************************************************


Migraines, Museums, and Munchies, Oh My!
by Diane Echelbarger, unaffiliated

11pm, Saturday, 7/27

Diane sat up cautiously.  When her head didn't throb and her stomach
didn't object, she smiled in relief.

One of her infrequent migraines had crept up on her that afternoon,
and by the time she had her friends had finished dinner, it had
reached nausea-inducing levels.  As a result, she had opted out of the
nightclub the others had chosen and curled up on the bed with her
medications in an attempt to sleep it off.

Both cats had curled up against her as she slept, and as soon as she
moved Tuppence jumped to the floor and demanded release from the
bedroom.  Comet joined her, adding his own yowl to hers.

"Yeah, yeah, hold your furries," the human replied sourly, and
replaced her glasses before opening the door.

The gray cat beat the black one to the food bowls by half a length,
and set up another imperious yowl when she realized they were empty.

"I know, I know.  Just a second, Nuisance."  Diane scooped Science
Diet into the bowls before helping herself to some fruit juice from
the fridge.

Glass in hand, she seated herself on the couch and turned on one of
the table lamps.  Feeling restless, and not at all sleepy, she picked
up the brightly colored Exhibit pamphlet and invitation from the
coffee table and began to leaf through them.

The print under the invitation's cover illustration read:
"HIERONYMOUS BOSCH (1460/62 - 1516/18 A.D.) - The Garden of Delights,
Oil on panel, center 219.7x195 cm), Museo del Prado, Madrid.  "There
can be no doubt that the delights in this 'garden' are those of carnal
desire, however oddly disgused. The birds, fruit, and the like are
symbols or metaphors which Bosch uses to depict life on earth as an
unending repetition of the Original Sin of Adam and Eve, which dooms
us to be prisoners of our appetites" J. Janson (1995) _History of
Art_. New York. p. 425.  Male model thought to be a relative of the
Ducal family of Brabant".

Diane re-read the last line, then took a closer look at "Adam" and
snickered.  "So *that's* what he was posing for!" she muttered, and
began to pet Tuppence, who had jumped into her lap, with her free
hand as she flipped open the invitation.

"              The Museum cordially invites you
                to a special Members preview of

                TREASURES FROM THE DUCHY OF BRABANT

        Monday July 29, 1996 from 7:00 pm to 9:OO pm in the
        Mediterranean World Exhibition Area, 3rd Floor.

        Refreshments will be provided.

This exhibition is made possible by a donation from the Brabant
Foundation, Inc."

She returned the invitation to the table and opened the pamphlet.

"The Museum is proud to open its doors to the Treasures of Brabant.
The Duchy of Brabant comprises the modern provinces of North Brabant,
the Netherlands, and Antwerp and Brabant, Belgium. Although this
region has been known as Brabant since the 1st c B.C. when it was
occupied by the Romans, it officially became the Duchy of Brabant in
1190 A.D. This collection focuses on the Flemish school of painting
and covers the Golden Age of the Duchy, a period of prosperity, power
and independence that lasted until A.D. 1556 when Brabant became a
possession of the Spanish crown."

Diane paused in her reading, as Tuppence was butting the pamphlet
with her head.  She moved the pamphlet onto the arm of the couch, out
of the cat's range, and scratched behind the Tonkinese's ears.

Tuppence began to purr as Diane returned to her reading.

"The following paintings and artefacts are of special interest:

Plate 1 - LEONARDO DA VINCI (1452-1519 A.D.) Portrait of the Ducal
Envoy of Brabant to the Vatican State 15th c A.D., Oil-tempera on
wood, 84x57 cm, National Gallery, London. Work commissioned by the
Duchy of Brabant.

Plate 2 - JAN VAN EYCK (1385?-1441 A.D.) Portrait of a Man, completed
A.D.  1433, Oil on panel, 26x19 cm, National Gallery, London.  This
small painting is scrupulous in detail and reveals a subtle insite
into the model's dark character. The short spiked hair is thought to
be unusual for the period."

"Spiked hair!?"  Diane looked closer at the painting, then grinned,
delighted.  "Look, Toofie!" she cried, showing the picture to the
sleepy cat in her lap.  "It's LaCroix!"

The cat eyed the photograph with bored disinterest.

"I gotta admit, he looks good in lace and black velvet," Diane
commented, and turned the page again.

"Plate 3 - A document entitled _La Joyeuse Entree_.
- This charter signed in A.D. 1356, curbed the power of the Duke of
Brabant.  The Duke was not allowed to coin money, make alliances,
declare war without the consent of the local city and town governments
within the Duchy. It was active until A.D. 1789 and each Duke was
sworn to abide by the agreement.

Plate 4 - HIERONYMOUS BOSCH - as on cover of invitation.

Plate 5 - JAN AND HUBERT VAN EYCK (1385?-1441 A.D.)- Adam and Eve,
left and right shutters of the Ghent altarpiece, completed A.D. 1432,
Oil-tempera poyptych, total size 3.4x4.4 m) St. Bavo Cathedral, Ghent.
The realism evident found in these nude but chaste figures is clear
evidence of the work of Jan van Eyck.

Plate 6 - ROGIER VAN DER WEYDEN (1400-1464 A.D.) - Portrait of a Lady,
Oil-tempera on wood, 37x27 cm, National Gallery, Washington, D.C.  Van
der Weyden was one of the most popular portrait painters of this
period. The lady's features are sharply drawn with clear precision and
her dark hair flows from under her wimple. This imaginative and
flexible artist was able to convey to the viewer his impression of the
refinement and dignity found in this noble woman."

"I don't believe it!" the woman gasped.  "That's *Janette*!  Did Nick
set up this exhibition before he disappeared or something?"

"Plate 7 - HIERONYMOUS BOSCH (1460/62-1516/18 A.D.) - The Entombment -
oil on panel, 250x350 mm, Museo del Prado, Madrid. A naked blond man
is depicted lying on a bier surrounded five young women. The man is a
crucified Christ figure with nail marks in hands and feet. The women
hold ointment vessels and are in the process of wrapping a shroud. One
woman holds a crown of thorns.

Plate 8 - Sword of the Duke of Brabrant, 13th c A.D.

Plate 9 - Ducal Seal and seal impression, 13th c A.D.

Plate 10 - Tapestry, Louvain, 14th c A.D. This richly woven Belgian
tapestry is reputed to have been commissioned by the Duke of Brabant
and to have been hung in the Ducal household."

"This's gonna be *great*!"   Diane placed the pamphlet on the table
and realized she was hungry.

Nothing in the fridge or cupboards appealed to her, so she pulled on
her shoes and a light jacket, scribbled a note to her friends, and
headed for where she'd parked her car.

There had to be at least one all-night Deli somewhere in this town....


*********************************************************************


Marching Off to War (1/1)
by Susan M. Garrett

(7/27  Sunset)

It was an army . . . of sorts.  Stylish--certainly and Goth to the
nines, from Melanie's tight-fitting black dresses to Catherine's
tight-fitting black dresses, Lorelei's black and red ensemble with
lace-up boots, and a number of other Ravens and Ravenettes in T-shirts
and jeans and comfortable clothes which if not in and of themselves
stylish were worn with style and that's really all that mattered,
n'est ce pas?  Armed to the teeth with legal briefs (Jane and
Catherine had that end under control, although Susan was still certain
Catherine's copy of 'Middlemarch' was a more potent weapon, especially
when aimed side on and to the solar plexus or--God forbid--would put
the enemy into a sound slumber if read aloud for any period of time),
and super-soakers, and a certain amount of moral outrage, this was an
affiliation that meant business.  The Raven belonged to Janette at the
start and even if she had signed it over to LaCroix, it was still THE
Raven and Ravenette stronghold.  After all, what was the point of
being stylish if you didn't have a cool place to hang out?

They had gathered in the alley beside the club just before four
(sleeping in seemed to be an occupational hazard of being stylish).
Chanda was rejoicing over her discovery of a local supply of cherry
Gatorade, Socrates was discussing the possibility of installing
electronic defenses once the club had been secured with mj and Chris,
and Lana was asking Cynthia if she remembered seeing a kitchen in the
bar (which engendered a discussion of vegetarian bar snacks).  It
seemed less like a war party than a group of fen standing on line
waiting for con registration to open.

After warning Tami that she and daughter Jessica might want to take up
the rear guard--because you just never knew what Cousins were capable
of when riled--Susan moved to the front of the group and waved her
arms to get their attention.

"Okay, people, listen up," she announced as quietly as she could,
considering that there was a mass of them in an alley and echoes were
something fierce.  "This is it.  We won the Raven during the last war,
but we had to give it back.  This time they'll be ready for us.  It
could get kind of nasty."

"We could call for artillery backup," noted Socrates.  "I have a
friend--"

"That's all right," said Susan quickly.  "I think the super-soakers
are all that most of us are licensed to handle.  Let's leave artillery
to the Mercs. Mortars are just so . . . pass‚."  She looked over the
assembled group. "Okay guys, we have to hit them hard and fast.  Are
you with me?"

In typically Raven fashion, everyone agreed, more or less in their own
tones.  They didn't shout or make too much noise, which would have
been extremely gauche in a Toronto alley.   Instead, they filed around
to the front of the club.  For a moment the assault ground to a halt
during a discussion as to whether or not they should knock, but that
was voted down and, instead, Cynthia opened the door and they all
peered inside.

Even during the day, there was always some ambient light in the Raven,
but it was dark.  Their footsteps echoed as they entered the club.

"It's dark," said Jessica, somewhat uncertainly as she took her
mother's hand.

"It's empty," noted Lana.  She ducked a cobweb and grimaced.  "Yuch."

Tara ran across to the bar, hopped up onto it, then struck a match
across the countertop and grinned.  "And it's <ours>," she said
cheerily.  "Looks like the old dragon's booked and taken his little
maniacs with him."

Susan shook her head as the others fanned out throughout the club.
"No.  It can't be."  She turned around, not able to believe that the
place could be empty.  "We don't have that kind of luck."

"I wouldn't call this luck," said Cynthia, pointing out a mound of
broken glassware, and grafittied walls.  "I think it's called breaking
and entering.  Do you know how much work it's going to take to get
this place up and running again?"

"Which is why I sent for you--all of you."  Janette pushed aside a
curtain and stepped out of the back room--Melanie squeaked and backed
up, she'd just been about to look behind the curtain.  Giving her a
tolerant smile, Janette walked past her and to the bar, where she took
the pack of matches from Tara's hand.  "I assume you can have the
place back to normal by tomorrow evening."

Jasmine cleared her throat and met Susan's gaze.  "Um . . . tomorrow
evening?"

"Everything you need is here.  Or can be purchased."  Matches in hand,
Janette walked around the bar lighting candles.  "There <is> a war on,
after all.  We have plans to make, agendas to discuss. . . and why are
you all staring?"


*********************************************************************


An Evil Twin's Revenge
by April Ruskin (aruskin@edge.ercnet.com)
COUSINS
900 PM (simultaneous to the 'Petalling' at CERK), and 1030 PM
Saturday July 27, 1996
Toronto, Ontario

April peered out of her hiding place to make sure the N&Npackers were
not in the area. That's when she noticed the security cameras on the
grounds. 'Hmmm... let's see if I can time this.' She watched the
cameras patterns and then ran forward at just the moment that both
cameras on this side of the house weren't in her direction.

'So far so good.' She thought as she leaned against the house. 'Let's
just hope I don't get caught.'

April snuck around the house until she found the phone  lines. She
took off the backpack she was wearing and rummaged around until she
found her wire cutters. 'There, that should at least put a dent in
their communication.' She thought as she cut the lines. She then snuck
to the front door and got out her lockpick. She was about to pick the
lock, but stopped when she noticed that the house was protected by an
alarm system. She sighed and looked around for a good window to go
through.

'Bingo!' She took a stick of foil wrapped gum from her pocket and
popped the piece in her mouth. instead of stuffing the wrapper back
into her pocket, she inserted it into the crack between the window and
the window frame. She then picked the lock on the window. After she
opened the window, she reached over and cut the thin wires that
connected the window to the alarm system. 'Never know what you'll
learn from movies' she thought as she climbed inside.

She unslung her backpack again and pulled out a palm sized and book
sized package. She then peered around for a hiding place. 'Perfect!'
She thought as she hid the devices. 'Even the wire hooking it to the
house's power won't be noticeable.' She then brought out four more
items and went to hide them around the house looking for good hiding
places. After she had the four items hidden, she climbed back out of
the window and went looking for a taxi back to CERK.

-----
An hour and a half later
-----

"It's not as much as we wanted, but this _is_ a lot of chocolate."
Laura MacMillan said. Just then, a barely audible click was heard, and
the Nightcrawler's voice could be heard coming from different parts of
the house at almost top volume.

The N&Npackers covered their ears in a vain attempt to drown out the
sound.

"TURN IT OFF!!!!!"

"I CAN'T FIND OUT WHERE IT'S COMING FROM!!!"

"ARGH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

----
At CERK
----

April grinned evilly as her evil twin Denise put down the remote
control. "That will teach them to steal our chocolate!"

"Putting a mini tape deck that continuously plays Nightcrawler
monologues was an inspiration!" April replied.


*********************************************************************


Janette's Shopping Trip
by Catherine Siemann and Felicia Bollin

Time:  Saturday July 27th, immediately continuous from "Marching Off
to War"

The assembled Raven/ettes looked at their leader.  She looked lovely
as ever, her pale yellow floral sundress flowing gracefully as she . .
. Pale Yellow Floral Sundress?  On Janette?  Our Dark Lady of the
Night looked like a poster child for Laura Ashley.

A pair of tall blondes in black velvet dresses emerged from different
places in the crowd.  "Um, Janette," the one with the shoulder-length
hair said hesitantly, "uh . . . real pretty dress, but uh . . . a
vampire in a sundress?  Isn't that a non-sequitur?"  Catherine waited
for the killing glare that was going to follow, but instead, there was
a sigh.

"In my trip to mortality and back again, I seem to have mislaid my
fashion sense," said Janette, sadly.

"I think that's where we come in," said Felicia, the blonde with the
waist-length hair.  "We're ready to provide shopping therapy --
anywhere, any time, credit cards all paid off and ready to burn!"

Janette's eyes lit up with an unholy light -- but a different unholy
light than the one that appeared when the blood thirst was upon her.
"The time, mes amies, is now!  Come along!  Let us . . . shop!"

"Hit the decks," muttered one of the male Raven/ettes, under his
breath.

Janette headed towards the door, Felicia and Catherine following
closely behind her.  "I thought we'd start with lingerie, and then . .
."  Felicia was saying, when they heard a small voice behind them
calling, "Wait for me!"

They turned around to see another Raven/ette, this one with light
brown hair, following after them and looking hopeful.  "See?  I even
wore black this time!"  And indeed, Chanda was dressed in black from
head to toe:  black sweatshirt bearing the name of her college, black
jeans and black Reeboks.

Catherine muttered, "Well, she's hardly VOGUE material, is sh . . .
ouch!" She was silenced by a swift kick to the shins.  Since Felicia
was wearing wicked-looking stiletto heeled shoes, it is safe to say
that the Raven/ette received her just reward for her unkind remark.
Catherine recalled that Chanda was an undergrad, and had a sudden
painful vision of her own younger self, dressed in a pink alligator
shirt, compared to which Chanda was *entirely* VOGUE material.  She
said in a friendlier tone,  "Come on, Chanda. You're going to love
these places."

"I can't wait," said Chanda.  "Felicia told me about everything you
guys got at the Goth boutique last time . . . " and the trio headed
out the door after Janette.

Their first stop was La Vie en Rose, a lingerie shop that they'd
chosen especially for its Parisian name . . . and the late hours it
was open. Although Janette had to be steered away from the practical
cotton undies section on entering ("I actually had to do my own
laundry when I lived with Robert," she explained), she quickly
regained her form, as her three helpers kept running silk and lace
confections into her dressing room.

They almost lost one of their number, as a small group of goths came
in and went out again, and Catherine nearly wandered out after a
particular male goth with long black hair, in a kilt and a poet shirt.
Felicia waved a pretty silk camisole in her direction and lured her
back.  "Ever since I dated that bagpiper, I've had a thing for men in
kilts," the errant Raven/ette shrugged.  "Come to think of it, ever
since I dated the long-haired artist, I've had a thing for men with
long dark hair.  In fact, ever since  . . . "  Felicia silenced her by
shoving her into a dressing room with the camisole, and soon the only
noises that emerged from behind the curtain were happy exclamations.

Soon, it appeared that more of the store's stock was in Janette's
dressing room than on the display racks -- every last scrap of silk,
satin, lace, pvc, and velvet in the entire store seemed to be piled up
there.  "What are you going to take?" asked Chanda.

"Oh, everything, I think," said Janette.  There was a glazed, happy
look in the vampire's eyes that her three mortal helpers knew all too
well from the many fitting room mirrors that had witnessed that same
expression of bliss in their own eyes.

Felicia sighed.  "The zen of shopping."  Her companions sighed, too,
and looked lovingly at their own, much smaller piles of silk and lace
(and yes, cotton, since they had to do their own laundry . . . )

"Come along," Janette said imperiously, sounding much more like her
old self. "I've arranged to have everything packed and shipped to us
at the Raven. What's next on the itinerary?"

**********

Several hours later, Janette was leading the way down Queen Street
West, once more very much in charge of things.  Her three Raven/ettes
were following more slowly, laden with the weight of all the packages
they were carrying from Janette's various stops along the way, but at
last they were approaching it:  the temple of Goth glory itself . . .
Siren.  Felicia had called ahead, and made arrangements for the store
to stay open even later than it ordinarily would, so Janette and her
followers would have the place to themselves.  They were greeted by a
tall, gaunt young man, with long black and magenta hair and really
good eyeliner, in leather pants and an Edwardian frockcoat.  He was so
pale that even Janette did a double take before ascertaining he was
mortal.  "I was beginning to wonder if you were going to make it."

"We got sidetracked," Felicia explained.

"Every store along the way," Catherine added, nodding at Janette, who
had hours ago left the floral sundress on a dressing room floor, and
was now clad in something black leather and *very* first season.

Chanda looked around in wonder.  "So *this* is Siren?  Wow . . . "
The decor was gold and a deep maroon red, and all around hung the most
wonderful creations of velvet, lace, silk, pvc . . . laced-front
dresses with long pointed sleeves, pirate and poet shirts galore,
velvet frockcoats, pvc bustiers; mostly in black, but with a few dark
reds, purples and greens. There was silver gothic jewelry in all the
cases:  wonderful things like a caduceus gone mad (hi, Tami!) and a
bat clutching a rose in its claws (hi, Cynthia!), as well as the more
expected ankhs and celtic designs.  It was as if a mad scientist had
thrown a bunch of medieval garb in with trunkfuls of Victoriana from
the attic and more than a little dominatrix wear besides, and poured a
vat of ink over everything.  It was wonderful.  It was beyond
wonderful.  It was totally abfab.  In a . . . well . . . goth sort of
way.

Janette and her two velvet-clad acolytes made their (extensive)
selections quickly, while Chanda stood in awe.  "But, ma cherie,
aren't you going to try anything on?" Janette asked her.

"Uh . . . I don't know where to begin," she admitted.  "I've never
*seen* anything like this before."

Catherine smiled.  "We all felt that way the first time.  How about
this?" and she pulled a long velvet sleeveless dress with a lace up
front and slits up the sides.  "Sort of a goth Seven-Year Itch dress."

Felicia tossed a pair of opera gloves onto the pile, as Janette nodded
her approval.  "Perfect!" and they thrust the dressing-room curtain
closed around Chanda.  Catherine tossed an eyeliner and a lipstick
over the top.

Five minutes later, the curtains opened, to general applause.  Chanda
looked absolutely stunning, in a . . . well . . . goth sort of way.
"Magnifique!" said Janette, pleased with her acolyte.  "Way to go!"
exclaimed Felicia, cheering for her friend.  "Fabulous, darling," said
Catherine, who was having a Patsy Stone flashback.  "Wow!" said the
goth salesclerk.  "Do you want to go to the Cure concert conveniently
scheduled just at the end of the FK War with me?"

"Well . . . " Chanda hesitated.  He wasn't her usual type, but he was
actually quite cute, in a . . . well . . . goth sort of way.  She
received a sharp kick on the shins.  "Ouch!" she exclaimed, looking
angrily around for Felicia or Catherine.  But then she noticed the two
blondes were standing across the room.  "Cherie, how can you
hesitate?" Janette whispered over her shoulder.  "Okay," said Chanda. 
"I'd love to go with you to the Cure concert that's conveniently
scheduled just at the end of the FK War."

**********

Janette swept her way into the Raven, followed by her three
Raven/ettes, laden with packages.  "A most successful trip," she
declared, to anyone who bothered to look up and observe her grand
entrance.   And, since she was Janette, everyone did.  "Have the rest
of my packages sent back to me," she instructed Felicia.  "And then
come and join me for a drink in my private rooms, you three."  She
noticed the Raven/ettes looked a little paler than usual.  "*For* a
drink, not *as* a drink," she clarified.  Felicia and Chanda went out
for the rest of the packages, as Catherine trudged sadly to her pile
of books by the bar.  She had time to get through another half a
chapter of "Bleak House" before they'd come to get her for the drink. 
And she knew they'd understand.  She sighed.  Next War she'd be a bona
fide M.Phil. . . . Next War she'd be writing her dissertation.  *gulp*


*********************************************************************


Seek, Locate, Destroy, Part 1
By Cynthia Hoffman, with help from Lorelei Feldman and Jane Credland
July 27, 1996
Place: The Raven
Time:  Saturday, late afternoon, early evening, after Marching Off to War
and concurrent with Janette's Shopping Trip; prior to Chain of Thought,
part one.



Chris, Lana, Cynthia, Jane, Lorelei and Tami and Jessica watched in
amazement as a group of Raven/ettes disappeared to go shopping, taking
Janette with them, and the rest of them seemed to vanish in a puff of
smoke.

"Want to clear a room full of Ravens?" remarked Tami, "mention you might
get dirty to them.  POOF!"

"Lucky we don't all feel that way." remarked Jane with a wicked glint in
her eye.   Cynthia swatted her quickly.  First things first.

The Raven/ettes stared at the desolation left in the wake of robbery,
abandonment and neglect and reconsidered reopening.  Then they
reconsidered their reconsideration upon memory of Janette's face.  Just
because she was off getting herself new clothes, didn't mean she was going
to excuse them.  If she said Sunday night, Sunday night it was.

"Lorelei, see if you can do something to get power restored here, will
you?  Don't turn anything *on*, just get it hooked up, okay?.  By the way,
you never did tell me how you managed to get your computer monitor to stop
being a psychedelic rainbow," continued Cynthia, trying to make
conversation while figuring out why she found herself in charge of this
insane project.  She hated clean-up and she was allergic to *everything*,
wasn't she?

"Yeah, well, if I ever figure it out myself, maybe I'll let you know!"
Lorelei answered.  "Guess it just needed a vacation from me and my
magnetic personality."

"So," Lana interrupted, "where should we consider starting on this
God-awful mess?  And what does that wall say, anyway?"

"Sweetie, you don't wanna know" remarked Cynthia, who had once long ago
taught a unit in a pop culture class on graffitti ... Lana really didn't
want to know ... *she* didn't want to know either.  She slid her backpack
off her shoulder and pulled out the ever present and at the ready notepad
and purple pen.  Giving up the pretense that someone else was going to
handle it if she didn't, she began, "Let's be logical about this," and
started jotting things down rapidly in handwriting that no one else would
be able to decipher.  "Chris, why don't you take the basement.  Make sure
there's no evidence of ... make sure the stock downstairs is ... we'll
have to have a health inspector in here.  I don't want them to find
anything suspicious. If you need help hauling crates and boxes, track down
mj; he's usually cooperative about stuff like that.  You might also want
to determine if there's any electronic equipment still here or if we're
going to have to buy you a new sound system by tomorrow night."

Minutes later, power restored, the seven of them were busy handling their
various tasks.  Lorelei went off in search of cleaning implements, and
Tami and Jane headed off to the back to try to track down the ubiquitous
chains to adorn the area around the bar.  Lana was attempting to clean up
the glass that had found its way into all the nooks and crannies of the
floor.  Cynthia was trying to find a gas mask so she could continue
breathing in all the mess.  There simply had to be a way to clean the
graffitti off the walls without using turpentine.  They all generally
agreed to meet back in the main room in an hour to reassess.

Forty five minutes later, the place looked worse than it had before, Lana
had cut herself on what was left of the radio booth glass, Cynthia had
discovered that there was no place to sit that didn't fall apart with
minor pressure, and Chris had ascertained that the bottles of blood in the
basement had all been smashed and were beginning to reek rather like an
abatoire.  Every piece of electronic equipment had disappeared, there was
no stock for the human bar, much less the vampire bar, and the back room
was uninhabitable, by man nor beast.  Jane and Tami were nowhere to be
found.

"That's it!" groaned Cynthia.  "This task is too great for us to handle on
our own.  Let's make the living quarters livable for tonight and bring in
workers to help with the bar itself tomorrow morning.  The boss has money.
I vote we spend some of it on extra help. There wouldn't happen to be a
phone book around here anywhere would there?  Someone find me Lorelei.  I
need her cell phone, pronto!"

At that moment, Jessica let out a yell and came running from the back room
where she'd been exploring, looking for Tami.  "Something in that room
*moved*" she told Cynthia, who had somehow become a surrogate for the
missing Tami.  Familiarity breeds ... maternal instincts?  Nah.

"Show me," stated Cynthia, pretending to a confidence she didn't really
possess.  She led Jess back to the room where there used to be a couch.
"I'll bet it's nothing dangerous" she remarked, while her imagination
conjured up rats and wild dogs and carouches and things like that.

"There!" pointed Jessica.  "In that corner underneath that crate."

Jessica was right.  There was something there.  It had green eyes and
black fur and it was more afraid than either Jess or Cynthia were.
Slowly, she got down on her knees and coaxed it out from its hiding place.
"How on earth did you survive alone little one?" Cynthia remarked as the
cat finally emerged from under the crate.  "We're going to need cat food.
And someone remind me to tell Chanda that Janey's still here."

As the two of them left the back room, there was more movement from the
other corner.  Jane and Tami emerged from under a pile of chains, covered
in dirt.  While Jane struggled with the weight of the chain, Tami went
running after her daughter.  "You can't keep that cat!" she yelled after
her.  "A dog and a husband is all I can handle right now."

Jane grinned widely.  This back room had promise.  And she didn't have a
husband to worry about any more..


*********************************************************************


Here, Nicky, Nicky, Nicky
by Chanda Keith and Felicia Bollin
Toronto Saturday, July 27 Immediately After Janette's Shopping Trip

"Are these the last of the packages?"  Chanda asked, as she and
Felicia dragged another pile of bags in, huffing and puffing.

"I think so.  What's wrong with your arms?"  Felicia asked, forehead
creasing in puzzlement as she took in the huge red welts. Chanda
looked down at herself and gasped.

"Oh, no!  I was so happy about my new dress that forgot about those
darned mosquitoes!!  Felicia, will you take care of these bags for me?
I've got to get something on these bites before they get worse!"  she
said as she hurried off.

Her bags were still in the van.  She quickly removed her new dress as
soon as she had shut the window blinds.  No sense in getting aloe all
over it, she thought.

"Drat!  Where are my bags?"  she fretted and fumed, glancing all
around the van.  "Felicia must have mistaken them for our packages in
the move. They must be in the Raven!"  she thought as she glanced
around frantically.

She slipped on the first outfit that she found, a bright red silk
nightdress discarded across the back seat, and that ended about three
inches above her knees.  She smeared the aloe liberally on her arms
and was just about to climb out of the van when she spotted the herbal
anti-histimine poking coyly out of the top of her purse.

She thought about it for a moment, then shook her head.  "No. That
stuff knocks me for a loop and a half.  All anti-histimines do. But,
then, I really don't want Mistress Janette to see me covered in
mosquito bites." She glanced back at the bag, just once more,
longingly as she scratched at a brand-new one she had just discovered
on her neck.  "Oh well, maybe it won't have the same effect this
time,"  she muttered as she swallowed some of the drops, gagging at
the rubbing alcohol taste, and hurried back into the club.  "Better
that than appear in front of Mistress Janette, looking like a measle."

Chanda wandered down the length of the club tripping over leftover
scraps of renovation material, looking for Felicia. _Funny_, she
thought, _I never noticed that the club walls *moved* before.  I've
heard of movable nightclub *floors*, but never *walls*. Maybe it's
something the Nick and Natpack did.  H'm, I also never noticed those
light fixtures on the floor_ .

"Now wasn't there supposed to be a door somewhere?" she said aloud,
giggling loopily as she moved through the back door and down into the
alley outside, stumbling over a brick.  "Bricks.  That reminds me.  I
wonder where Nick Brick is this war?  Someone really ought to find
him.  Find him and give him to Mistress Janette."  She let loose with
a peal of laughter, as the funniest thought struck her.  "Give him to
Mistress Janette all wrapped up like a big Christmas present with a
big bow around his neck."  she  aid as she collapsed on the floor in
giggles.  "Bet she'd like that.  If she's ever planning on speaking to
him again, that is."  She tried to pull herself up off the floor, but
failed miserably, which struck her as even funnier.  She began to
crawl about the floor.

"Now, I wonder where he is?  Here Nicky, Nicky, Nicky!  Come out, come
out, wherever you are!  I want to wrap you up and give you to Mistress
Janette!  Here Bricky, Bricky, Bricky!"

"Chanda, what ARE you doing?"  Felicia said, as she came out of the
Raven and spotted her crawling down the alley, inspecting every corner
looking for Nick.

Chanda looked up.  Her braid had come undone, and there was a glassy
look in her eyes, which worried Felicia not inconsiderably, as she
looked closer.  "I'm looking for Nick,"  she panted.  "I'm going to
catch him and wrap him up and give him to Mistress Janette as a
present.  Have you seen him?"

Felicia started edging backwards towards the outer brick wall, looking
around from side to side frantically for a little help. None seemed
forthcoming.  "You don't look well.  Why don't you just come on
inside, sit down, and...."  She bumped up against the wall in her
anxiety to get away, trapped.

"I can't sit down!"  Chanda wailed, tears beginning to sparkle in her
eyes.  "I've got to find Nick!  If I don't find him then how am I
going to convince Mistress Janette to make me her sister?  I want a
new sister!  My old one is awful!  She never pays attention to me or
anything!!  You'll help me convince her to let me be her sister won't
you?  You'll help me find Nick so she'll like me and want to keep me?"

Felicia gave up on the thought of rescue from any other Ravens or
Ravenettes, and just started thinking frantically to herself, _*Damage
Control.  Damage Control*.  I need to get her under control until she
remembers that Janette is more likely to make her a *snack* than make
her a sister_ .

"Okay.'  she said soothingly, speaking in her best 'One Must Humor The
Charming Child' Faction Leader (tm) tone to her errant Immortal
Beloved.

Surely this was drug-induced.  "Sure I'll help you.  Why don't you
just come right in here and I'll call someone to find out where Nick
is."  Felicia said as she tried to lead her back into the Raven.  "You
can't catch him and give him to Janette if you don't know where he
is."

"Oh, wait!  There he is!  Nicky!  Nicky, come back!!  Come back!!"
Chanda cried as she twisted loose from Felicia with the craftiness
common to the temporarily War-insane, then ran out the maze of alleys.

"Oh, no!!"  Felicia muttered, as she hurried down the alley after
Chanda, hoping to stop her before she did *too* much damage to herself
or others.

"What now?!"


*********************************************************************


How to Wrap a Vampire
Dream Sequence
Chanda Keith
Toronto Saturday, July 27 Immediately after Here Nicky, Nicky, Nicky

"Here Nicky, Nicky, Nicky!"  Chanda called as she wandered down the
street.  "Nicky, where are you?  Come out, come out, wherever you
are!"

"Excuse me, sir," she said as she grabbed a random bystander, "but you
wouldn't have seen a vampire anywhere around here would you? I'm
trying to find him to wrap him up as a gift.  Have you seen him? He's
blonde and has about one functioning brain cell.  His name's Nick.
Have you seen him? Why's everyone running away?  I'll never find Nick
to wrap if someone won't stop and tell me where he is."

"Here Nicky, Nicky, Nicky!"  she called as she skipped down the
street. "Nicky, come out!  Aaawww, come on out!  Nicky, I'm sure that
Mistress Janette isn't too mad at you!!  You were just an insensitive
brainless jerk after all!  How mad could she be?  I'm sure that after
eight hundred years, she's learned how to ignore those flaws!  Come
out!  If she's still mad, I'm sure that she won't torture you too
much!!  Besides, you might like it!!  Lots of people like things like
that!!  Come out!!"

"Nicky!!  Where are you?"  she cried as she climbed onto a parked car
to see if she could spot him anywhere.  "Oh, hello, officers. Have you
seen a vampire anywhere?  He's blond, sort of brickish.  His name's
Nick Knight.  Do you know where he is?  I really have to find him so I
can wrap him up for Mistress Janette.  Have you seen him anywhere?"

"Why don't you just get off of that car,"  one of the officers said,
"and we'll see what we can do about finding this 'vampire' for you."

"Oh, but I have to stay on the car!  How will I spot Nicky if I'm not
on the car?!  Felicia!"  she cried as she spotted her friend hurrying
up the street.  "Tell these officers that I have to stand on this car
until I find Nicky!  You haven't found him, have you?"

"Officers, I don't think my friend's feeling too well.  Why don't I
just take her home with me?  I won't let her escape again.  I swear."

Felicia can straighten out things out, Chanda thought as she hopped
off of the car and drifted across the street, dodging the giant worms
who were crawling everywhere.

"Just like in the Justice League."  she muttered.  "Now where can I
find some wrapping paper?  It isn't going to do me any good to catch
Nick if I don't have the paper to wrap him in.  I might lose him while
I'm looking for it."

Ten minutes later she had managed to find a all night drugstore that
stocked wrapping paper.  Now I wonder how much of this it will take to
wrap Nick up.   I guess I better test it first.  I wouldn't want to
catch Nick and then run out of paper before he's wrapped, she though
as she looked at a passing stockboy with a wicked gleam in her eye.

"Here you are!"  Felicia cried as she came into the store a few
minutes later to find Chanda kneeling on the floor next to a large
squirming object wrapped in colorful birthday paper.  "Chanda, what
*have* you done?"

"It's too lumpy."  Chanda muttered as she picked up another roll of
wrapping paper and started towards Felicia.  "I'll have to try it
until I get it right.  Mistress Janette will be very angry with me if
I give her a lumpy package."

"NNNOOO!"

"Much better."  Chanda muttered twenty minutes latter as she finished
up her eighth practice package, the store manager.  "No lumps at all."

Mistress Janette will be so pleased with me, she thought as she
gathered the paper she would need to wrap Nick and hurried out of the
store.  Now I just need to find some chains in case she wants to play
with Nick after I give him to her.  Then I can go and catch him.


*********************************************************************


Chain of Thought (1/2)
by Jane Credland (with input from Tami, Felicia, Tara and Cynthia)
Date:  Saturday, July 27, 1996 (late afternoon/early evening), directly
following Seek, Locate, Destroy, Part 1
Place:  The Raven


Jane and Tami sat in a corner of the Raven's dance floor, buried under
the heap of chains they'd found in the basement, untangling them and
getting filthy in the process.  Jane had pretzeled her legs into a
half-lotus as usual.  Tami leaned her back against the wall and
stretched out as much as possible.  Each time they succeeded in
separating one from its fellows, it was laid it out full length next
to the others.  They worked quietly and rapidly.  Slowly, very slowly,
the pile diminished and the parallel lines grew.

"I can't believe I'm actually in the Raven."  Jane looked around.  "I
was here for Lillian's party in the last war, but it was so crowded
that I might as well have been in any trendy bar in town."

"Gotcha!"  Tami triumphantly pulled the final links out of a snarl.
"Well, that's what you get for being a Die Hard.  At least you finally
came to your senses and made the right decision ... even if it was
partly hormonal."

"Hormonal?  Whatever gave you that idea?"  Jane tried to bat her
eyelashes innocently, but failed miserably and wound up grinning like
the proverbial cat that got the cream instead.

Tami looked pointedly at Cynthia, turned back and smiled, "Oh, I don't
know. Call me psychic."

Swiping a hand across her forehead -- and leaving a black smudge
behind --Jane blushed furiously (from head to toe in that uniquely
blonde way) and changed the subject, "It does seem a little strange
not to have any vampires in the Raven though.  Has anyone heard
anything from Alma or Miklos?"

"Not that I know."  Chains clanked as Tami stood up and stretched.
"Only a few more to go.  I wonder what happened to Miklos.  Maybe he'd
like another chance to beat me in a  Mai Tai contest.  Not that he
stands a chance."

"Hi."  Felicia sat down to one side of the jumble of chains.

Tami checked her watch.  "Not bad.  Not bad at all.  You got through
that shopping trip in almost record time for Ravenettes.  Did you get
Janette sorted out?"

"I think she bought out a store or two.  She and Catherine are still
in her apartment, sorting through the bags."  Felicia's eyes misted up
briefly as she flashed back to the moment in La Vie en Rose when their
illustrious leader  recovered her fashion sense.  With an effort, she
brought herself back to the present.  "How's it going?"

"Almost finished.  Want to give us a hand with the last few?"  Jane
held out a grubby hand, filled with links.

Felicia flinched back.  "No thanks.  You're doing a great job though."

"Have you heard anything about Miklos?"  Tami sat back down and dug
the end of yet another chain out of the small pile.

"I think he's supposed to be somewhere in Toronto, but no-one seems to
know where."  Felicia shrugged, then straightened up.  "Hey, maybe we
should go looking for him.  It shouldn't be that hard.  There can't be
that many tall, good-looking, dark-haired, male vampire bartenders in
town."

"That's a great idea ... ouch ... that hurt!"  Jane cautiously
extracted her thumb from where was trapped between two links.  It was
bleeding slightly, so she put it to her mouth and sucked on it --
dirt, blood and all.

"All done."  Tami announced loudly, looking around the Raven for her
daughter Jessica.  "Does anyone know where Jess has gone to?"

"She's right over there,"  Cynthia said as she walked over.  A wave of
her hand drew Tami's attention to the corner where Jess sat at a
table, blonde head bent over a pad of paper.  "Drawing pictures of the
renovation."

Felicia looked dubiously at the lengths of metal carefully laid out
over the floor.  "Aren't you going to clean them first?"

"I think they already did ... all over themselves."  Cynthia leaned
over and wiped the smudge off Jane's forehead with a towel.  "You
going to hang them up now?"

Shaking her head, Jane grabbed the towel and made an ineffective stab
at scraping the dirt off her hands.  "I need a break, some soap and
water and a diet coke.  Coming?"  She and Cynthia wandered off towards
the back of the club in search of caffeine.

"It <is> a great idea, you know."  Tami stood up and dusted her hands
on her jeans.  "We should try to find Miklos.  Jane's lived in Toronto
for years. I'm sure she knows where he's likely to hide out."

Felicia stepped carefully over the chains.  "Even if we don't find
him, we could have a <lot> of fun trying.  Why don't we see if any of
the others are interested in joining us?  Maybe we can drag Catherine
out from under all those books."

"First, I'm going to put Jess to bed.  It's long past time."


*********************************************************************


Dead Man's Party
   by Dianne la Mercenaire
      <Cat.Goddess@pobox.com>

[timing: ~11pm Saturday 7/27... well after dark, but gone before the
Vaqueras arrive @ midnight :-]


The nearly-full moon shone eerily over the softly rippling water of
the river, barely seeming to touch upon a tall figure draped in folds
of inky black. The crickets fell silent as the figure approached the
bank, walking slowly, deliberately.

At the edge of the water, the figure paused. A pale hand emerged from
the robes, lifted slightly, and pointed a long finger to the left.
Pivoting silently, the apparition moved that direction a scant step,
paused, then repeated the motion to the right.

Then turning further, until it faced once again the way it had come,
the specter stopped, raised both hands high, and spoke:

"Where the h*ll _are_ we, Christina?"

Breathing hard, the Mercenary Mommy General caught up and dumped a
heavy knapsack at her Grand High Poohbah's feet. Trying hard not to
laugh at Dianne's 'night-camouflage outfit', she stated the obvious--
as somebody had to-- "We're at the river."

Dianne glared and started flailing her arms ineffectively. "I can see
_that_!" The cloth only became more tangled. "You're the one with the
map. You're the one who used I-don't-even-want-to-know-*what*-kind-of-
resources to figure out exactly where Vachon buried him...." She
almost fell over her own feet as she struggled with her attire. "And
what on *earth* did you wrap me in? A _bedsheet_?

Christina dug out the map from her back pocket and choked down another
fit of giggling. "Actually," she mentioned as casually as possible,
"there was a close-out sale on spare yardage at the Fabric Mart...."

"I look like a ninja mummy!" Dianne insisted (with some
justification). "I should have _known_ better when you wouldn't wear
one yourself!" she growled, finally finding an end and starting to
unwrap herself. "Very artistic, I'm sure, but I can't move, I can't
see, and I *know* you're laughing at me...."

"Right over there!" Christina pointed, avoiding the issue head-on. But
as she moved away, Dianne-- just free of the encumbering cloth--
grabbed her by the shoulder.

"Bring the bag!"

Christina looked down at the bag, then up at Dianne. "*You* bring the
bag... I'm navigating!"

The Poohbah blinked (once, slowly), then drew herself up to her full
height and glared down at her General. "Bring the bag!" As Christina
frowned, Dianne's posture relaxed a bit. "Trust me, you'll *want* to
have the bag with us. Besides, I must carry the Shillelaigh."

Christina took a good look at the large, carved, pointed stick-- a
piece of wood that seemed to have been shaped for no other purpose
than the quick and deadly dispatch of vampires (A real hot seller!
Get yours today!)-- and picked up the bag. As they moved towards the
appropriate few square feet of dirt, she made the mistake of asking:
"So what's in this bag anyway?"

"Lots of dead rats and a couple of gallons of fresh blood."

"Ewww!" Christina reflexively dropped the bag again.

"It's for protection," Dianne informed her with the superior air of
one who'd already had time to get used to the idea. "We've also got
garlic spread...."

"I'll take the garlic." Christina breathed a sigh of relief and began
to gingerly poke through the knapsack.

"Not yet," Dianne insisted, slapping her hands away. "Can't risk it
yet. Grab a shovel and start digging."

"Why should _I_ be the one doing the digging?"

"Because _I'm_ doing the writing!"

***********

Twenty minutes later, they had cleared the top foot or so of earth off
the appropriate area. "That's enough." Dianne stopped her. "I don't
want to go too far and... well... if... decomposition and all.... I
mean, we can't be sure _exactly_ where the dirt ends...."

That was enough to get Christina a good few steps back from the grave
in record time.

"Hand me the blood."

"Get the bag. Get the shovel. Get the blood." Christina grumbled. "Who
was your flunky this time last year?"

"You were, dearest." Dianne smiled, taking the bags from her hands
before she could drop them again.

Christina snatched her hands back. "They're *warm*...." She looked at
Dianne. "I don't want to know, do I?"

"No."

"Oh no...." She watched as Dianne stepped forward, opened the bags,
and poured unit after unit of fresh blood on the opened grave.

***********

The blood had made quite a mess, soaking the ground thoroughly and
making a large puddle of mud that was best not contemplated too
closely.

But nothing else happened.

Dianne leaned against the Shillelaigh of If-Not-Death,-Then-What-Must-
Be-Presumed-to-Be-at-Least-Extreme-*Pain*, a thoughtful look on her
face. "It _should_ work." She frowned.

"Maybe we should try Vachon?" Christina offered, eyeing the mud
warily.

Dianne shook her head absently. "No, no. We haven't been paid for
that."

"Who paid you for _this_?"

Dianne straightened up and glared at her. "We don't _have_ to be paid
for this one. Screed was a Merc in deed, if not in name. I'm the GHP
and I can declare this 'the Guild-sponsored rescue of a fellow Merc'
if I want to!"

Christina stared right back. "All right, already! Sheesh!" She shook
her head. "A little defensive on the subject, are we? I mean, you
didn't do this just 'cuz you liked RatBoy, did you?" She looked back
at the Poohbah with an evil grin. "Because, that would be a job
without payment, you know. A first-class violation of the Guild
Charter...."

A scrabbling sound at their feet distracted them. But it was the
skeletal-looking, clawing, bone-white hand that was pushing up through
the dirt that really got their attention.

Christina's widening eyes turned to meet Dianne's. "What do we do
now?" she whispered as an arm quickly came into view. Phrases like
'first hunger' and 'exsanguination' were flashing through her mind at
a dizzying pace.

Dianne dropped to one knee and tore open the bag. "Grab a handful of
rats and start throwing!"


*********************************************************************


I Love it When Plan B Comes Together  (3/3)
Jennie Hayes, Natpack

"So where the heck did it come from?"

Alora shrugged.  "As near as we can figure, the guy that took off with
Sharon's bag was looking for both of these bags, but got scared when
Sharon started after him."

"But money and *salt*?"

"Salt smugglers," Kelly said abruptly.  "Isn't there a weight- loss
center near here?  All those popcorn and pretzel lovers on low-sodium
diets...you could really clean up selling them the pure stuff."

Behind her Maureen mouthed, "War hysteria" silently, and continued
counting her share of the loot.

Maureen flipped through one of the packets of money gleefully.  "And I
didn't even have to work for this stuff!" she chortled.

Jill looked up from distributing the remaining bundles of currency to
the NatPackers with a grin.  "We aim to please."

Amy looked uncomfortably at the money.  "We should turn this in," she
repeated for the fiftieth time.

"We can't.  We need to avoid contact with the police for as long as we
can, remember?  They probably remember us from when Nat went missing,
and we don't want them wondering why so many odd things keep happening
around us.  *We're* used to it, but *they* will find it suspicious."
Jennie pointed out.

Kelly, her salt delusions having been forgotten, stared blankly at her
portion of the money for a moment, a frown crossing her face.

"What's wrong?" Betsy asked.

Kelly looked up, startled, then grinned sheepishly.  "Well, I was
trying to think...pay off school loans, or have a spending spree in
Toronto?"

The other NatPackers smiled knowingly, and she shrugged.  "Yeah, I
knew you guys would say that."

Growing serious, however, Jennie gathered the attention of the nearly
thirty people in the room.  "That might fit in with our plans, but
don't forget what we're here for.  We need to have a serious powwow
about this.  Now, there are a lot of things you all need to know.
It's not really a dangerous situation yet, but that's what we're
trying to prevent.  We can't mess anything up after...what
happened..."

The reminder was too much for them all.  They felt themselves going
into a group flashback.  It was not a pretty sight-- if they'd been in
traffic, half of Toronto would have crashed into them.

***

Place:  Nick's Loft
Time:  Just after "Last Knight"

"I don't <know> why she's late," said Kelly, impatiently stabbing the
"up" button on the elevator.  "Why are you asking me?"

"I had to ask someone."  Sharon glared at the elevator door.  "This
thing is so <slow.>"

"We don't even know if she's here," Amy pointed out practially.

"Doesn't hurt to try."  Sharon held the elevator door open as the
NatPack trooped in.  "We've looked everywhere else-- her place, the
morgue, the station.  It's not like Nat."

Leslie glanced at her watch.  "We're going to miss the play.  I was
really looking forward to seeing Shakespeare..."  her voice trailed
off.

No one said anything.  It <wasn't> like Natalie to miss an
appointment, and everyone was worried.  The ride up to Nick's loft
seemed to take a year.

When the elevator door slid open, the NatPack stepped out gingerly.
The loft was dark and quiet.

"I don't think she's here," whispered Leslie.

"Who can tell?  Ow!"  Valerie bumped into a piece of furniture, hard. 
"It's so dark!"

"Where the hell is his remote?"  Jill closed her eyes and headed
around the sofa by touch.  "Ah."  Pushing several buttons, she set off
the radio, the dishwasher and then, finally, the lights.  "There."
Turning to throw the remote back on the couch, she froze-- along with
the other NatPackers looking in the same direction as she was.

There was one long moment of complete, stunned silence as they
realized it was Natalie lying on the floor by the fireplace,
absolutely still. Absolutely white.

Then pandemonium broke out.  Organized, controlled, NatPack
pandemonium--but pandemonium nonetheless, with GT firmly in charge of
the situation.

That night, more than one Natpacker gave thanks for the presence of
the Aussie physician, and former EMT's that keep crash kits in the
trunk of their cars

*****

Coming back to the present, Jennie continued, "So we have to be very
careful to keep control, and not let anything out.  Confusion is our
friend, but *we* need to be organized beneath it.  Fortunately, that's
our normal mode of operation..."


(To be continued when there are Natpackers home to write...)


*********************************************************************


The Lucky and the Dead (3/3)
Sat.  July 27, 1996
Late Evening - Tracy's Grave
Partly K and Perkulators

"Do you think we're going to get into trouble?"  Frederic asked in a
hushed voice.

"Not if we don't get caught," was Partly's unhelpful response, also in
a hushed voice.  What was it about cemeteries that made everyone want
to whisper?

"How do I let you talk me into these things?"  Robin asked.  Partly
shrugged, and continued to lead the Perkulators across the short
grass, cutting in front of several large tombstones.

The raffle ran for several hours and surprisingly (to everyone but
Partly) they had won something on every ticket she had bought.  The
most impressive was a two week stay in the best suite of Four Seasons
hotel, Toronto. Kristina had expressed her pleasure in not having to
put everyone up at the house she was watching, and everyone was trying
to find ways to stay up here longer now that they had great
accommodations.  They had also won three certificates for rental cars,
food from several restaurants including the Happy Solvaki, tickets to
the ROM opening, and gift certificates for a couple very nice shopping
sprees.  All in all, it had been worth staying for.

"It's right ahead."  Kristina pointed with the flashlight she held.
It was dusk.  Barely enough light to see, but not dark enough for
flashlights. Partly headed toward a large gravestone with a new look
about it.  A gravestone with fresh flowers and bare dirt.  Tracy's
gravestone.

"This is so depressing."  It was Kristina's voice.  "I always meant to
come, but..."  She trailed off.

"It's better with someone else."  Courtney said.  "Easier that way."

Partly circled around and laid the flowers she was carrying on the
ground, she paused to read the cards on the bouquets at the base.  It
was Frederic who read the inscription first.  "I don't believe it."

Everyone looked at him.  "What," Lynne asked.  He pointed.

Under the name and date it read:  "Beloved Daughter, Cherished Friend,
and A Good Cop."  The Perkulators groaned in unison.

"How *could* he?"  Shannon demanded.  "I mean, anything but *that*."

Partly shook her head.  Tracy's father had often been a topic of
discussion between her and Tracy.  Partly had never liked Commissioner
Vetter or understood Tracy's attitude toward his heavy-handed control
of her life. Even after her death he seemed to have to push her
forward.

The rest of the Perks fell quiet and, depressed,  Partly stared off
into the darkening cemetery.  A slight woman in a long black overcoat
was walking toward them.  There was something unsettling in the way
she walked, almost as if Partly should know who she was.  The figure
suddenly stopped, finally seeing the group of Perkulators standing at
the stone.  Partly caught a glimpse of blonde hair as the woman turned
and walked quickly away.  She almost walked like...

"Oh, God,"  Partly said, grabbing the nearest Perk.  "Look, it's
Tracy!!" She pointed at the retreating figure.

"What?"  Everyone turned and stared after the woman.  "Where?"

"There."  Partly continued to point toward the road, but the woman was
gone.

Robin, the recipient of Partly's painful grip, pried herself free.
"Tracy's dead, Partly.  Your just jumpy because of the notes."

"I am not."  Partly looked at the Perks.  "Alright, the e-mails *are*
unsettling, but that was Tracy.  I'm sure of it."

"Tracy was shot.  Twice."  Fredric was talking now.  "Even Nick said
she was dead."

"And Nat," Lynne added.

"Why would she let everyone think she's dead?"  Shannon asked.

"As much as we wish it didn't happen, it did,"  Courtney said.  "Your
just imagining things.  We are at her grave, after all."

Partly stared at the growing darkness and sighed.  "I suppose."  She
turned to Kristina.  "Losing my mind, that's all."

Kristina didn't smile.  "I thought I saw her, too."

Everyone's attention snapped to Kristina.  "Here?  Now?" Partly
demanded.

"No.  Two nights ago.   In front of the police station."  Kristina
looked at time.  "But I was just seeing things, too.  Tracy's *is*
dead, right?"

They all looked back at the tombstone, but no-one answered.


*********************************************************************


Playing with Vampires (Dream Sequence)
Chanda Keith Ravenette and Immortal Beloved
Saturday July 27 late Evening after How to Wrap a Vampire

"Chains."  Chanda muttered as she drifted down the street. "Where do
I find chains?  Nice strong chains so that Janette can have lots and
lots of fun with Nick.  Maybe I better get some handcuffs too.  No. 
Nick probably has a set of handcuffs somewhere.  One of the perks of
being a cop.  Now where do they hide the chains?"

"Excuse me,"  she said as she grabbed a giant octapus by his tie,
"but do you know where I can find some chains?  I have to wrap up
Nick for Mistress Janette and she might want to play with him after
she unwraps him. Hey!  Where are you going?  Does anyone here have
some chains?  It's for a good cause!!  Oh, where am I going to find
chains?  I can't catch Nick unless I have chains!  Maybe this store
has chains."

"Hello!"  Chanda called as she drifted into a store.  "Do you have
chains?  Nice strong chains to play with?"

"Could I help you, miss?"  a man said as he came out of a back room.

"Oh!!  Miklos!!"  Chanda cried as she tackled him.  She'd always
wanted to know how long vampires could kiss for (she knew it had to
be a long time from what she had seen Mistress Janette do with Nick
before) and now here was her chance to learn.

"Nice vampire.  Sweet vampire.  Do you want to play, hhmmm?" she
whispered as she kissed him.  "Sweet vampire.  Sweet sweet vampire
wanna play with me?  Bet you wanna play."

"AAAAHHHH!!!"

"Oh, drat!  I just remembered!  I was supposed to be finding chains
so that Mistress Janette could play with Nick instead of playing
myself!"

"Well, that surely is a shame."  the vampire murmered very
insincerly as pushed her off of him, "I guess you'll have to be
running along right away then.  Too bad."

"Wait a minute!  I remember now!  The Club has chains!  Lots and
lots of chains!!  I can use some of those!  Now I just have to find
Nick for Janette to play with and then I can play with you!"

"You just run along and find Nick, then.  I'll wait right here for
you."  Miklos said while measuring the distance to the fire exit.

"No.  you might get lost.  I don't want to loose you."  Chanda said
as she hurried towards him with the wrapping paper.  "Luckily, I know
a perfect way to keep vampires where you want them"


*********************************************************************


Return of the Insane (Dream Sequence)
Chanda Keith Ravenette and Immortal Beloved
Saturday July 27 late evening after Playing with Vampires

     "Zippa-Dee-Do-Dah, Zippa-Dee-Ay,
      My, oh, my, what a wonderful day!
      Plenty of vampires, headin' my way!
      Zippa-Dee-Do-Dah, Zippa-Dee-Ay!"

Chanda skipped down the street singing softly to herself.  Al she
had to do know was get the chains and catch Nick.  Then she could go
play with Miklos before any of the other Ravenettes found him.  Why
should she have to share?  She saw him first.

"Chanda?"

Chanda turned around to see an electric blue eel grab her arm. 
An eel?  She didn't know any eels!

"Chanda, it's me!  Lillian!  What's wrong with....  Does
Felicia know that you're out here?  Let me take you back to the
club."

"Okay."  Chanda said as the eel took on a human form and
started to lead her away.  "Do you know where Nick is?  I've been
looking everywhere and I can't find that silly vampire.  I have to
catch him and wrap him for Mistress Janette."

"No, I don't know where he is but if I see him, I'll tell you. 
Now I want you to go into the club and stay there.  Do you
understand?"

"Okay."  Chanda said as she drifted in the door.  Of course she
would stay at the club.  For a little while, anyway.  At least until
she could get the chains down.

*******

"How am I going to explain this to Janette?"  Felicia muttered
as she hurried into the club.  "I really don't think she's going to
take the fact that one of her followers went nuts and disappeared too
well.  What if we can't find....  Chanda!  You're back!!  What are
you doing?"

"Looking for chains."  Chanda said as she searched the main
room.  "Chains for Nick so Janette can play with him.  Have you seen
the chains?"

"Well, the best thing that I can do is to confine her to a small
area and hope whatever's wrong with her wears off soon."  Felicia
muttered to herself.

"Chanda, I think that I saw some chains in the basement.  Why
don't you take a look down there?"

"Thanks!"  Chanda said as she hurried down the basement steps,
not noticing Felicia closing and locking the door behind her.

"I hope she's sane soon."  Felicia muttered as she went to look
for a place to sleep for a few hours.


*********************************************************************


What Shall We Do With a Drunken Sailor?
   by Dianne la Mercenaire
      <Cat.Goddess@pobox.com>

[timing: midnightish 7/27; follows "Dead Man's Party"; before
"Do You Hear the People Sing?"]



Luckily by the time the rat supply had given out, Screed had passed
that first, dangerous hunger. Sitting for a moment and rubbing
muscles sore from repeated rat-lobbing (Olympic sport of the future?
You be the judge...), Dianne and Christina had taken the opportunity
to slather garlic spread on their necks anyway. It never hurt to take
precautions.

As she finished gathering up little rat corpses into the bag and was
about to haul it into the river, Christina heard a strangled, choking
noise behind her. Spinning around, she found Dianne-- perfectly safe
and staring at a snoring Screed.

"He fell _aleep_?" Christina asked.

"Not only that," Dianne offered, "but we seem to have answered the
eternally asked question: 'Do vampires snore?' " With a sigh she
poked at the pale, muddy form with the Shillelaigh, but even that
failed to rouse him.

"We're gonna have to carry him off or he might just get himself
scorched in the morning and undo all our hard work." Dianne did not
look particularly pleased at either alternative.

Neither did Christina. "And where are you planning on taking him?"
At Dianne's studied silence, she caught on. "You didn't think that
out, did you?" She groaned. "Now we have a filthy, convalescing,
*snoring* vampire on our hands and no place to put him!"

"We'll put him in Lisa Prince's basement room."

"But what if she's there?" Christina protested.

"She won't be," Dianne responded with a great deal more assurance
than she felt. [It was a skill you picked up as a Merc-- and honed as
an affiliation leader.] "And with the tunnels she's had dug out from
under there, he won't even have to wait until sundown to wander off
through the sewers if he's so inclined." Dianne reached for an arm.

Christina sighed. "Oh all right. But I'm not carrying him-- we'll
_drag_ him." As Dianne started to protest, Christina put on her best,
'Final offer: take it or carry him yourself!' look. "He's comatose
and won't feel a thing. And since he's currently recovering from
being *dead and buried for a few months*, I think his immune system
can handle a few more scrapes and bruises."

Dianne nodded and started pulling... but _she_ sure didn't plan to
be around when he woke up....


*********************************************************************
                           End War 7 File 1
*********************************************************************