*********************************************************************
                            War 7 File 2
*********************************************************************

Vaqueras Dig The Scene
Location: By the River Don, Somewhere in Toronto
Time: July 28th, 12:01 am.
by Sherri L. Campbell & Torrey Harris

<Insert sheepish expression> I left out a Vaquera in the list on our
first post - also add Pat Casey. Oh, and Toby B. is not on our loop.
oh well...
---------------------------------------------------------
DISCLAIMER: YOU - READ THIS! We asked for and received special
dispensation from the War Mistress for the attack at the end of this
post. DO NOT DO THIS AT HOME boys & girls... it isn't common in the
wars... it just happens to be necessary for someone else.
----------------------

A figure stood in the shadows of a large tree, observing the activity
down on the river bank. It was obvious that something was going on;
but what, exactly, was open to question.
                  * * * * *
The Vaqueros stood loosely grouped on the bank of the River Don.  They
were nervously watching as Torrey finished pouring a large circle of
salt around the small mounds on the river bank. The small murmur of
voices stopped when Torrey stood straight.  Sherri stepped over to
Torrey's side.

"Torrey, are you sure this will work?  What on earth is the salt for? 
And, how do we know which mound is Vachon's?" Sherri was surveying the
ground worriedly, noticing as an aside that one mound looked...
*fresh* and ... *muddy*?!!!

Torrey finished wiping her hands off on her jeans.  "Oh, come on,
Sherri.  We're dealing with a vampire here. They are fairly hard to
kill.  As to the salt?" She looked beyond Sherri to the nervous clumps
of Vaqueras. "I'm just trying to keep everyone calm.  I have no idea
what salt will or won't do, but at least it is keeping everyone back
from the grave site.  As to which mound is Vachon's?" Leaning over,
she picked up a small rock on one mound. Turning it over, she showed
Sherri the small "V" etched on the underside. "Tracy was thorough, she
marked his grave." Turning toward the others, she raised her voice.
"Okay, guys, that's part one.  Now, I need volunteers for the
shoveling."

Amidst the renewed mumble of discussion, one figure stepped forward.
"I'll dig! I'm good at it, after all, I'm an archaeologist." Debra E.
strode over to the pile of shovels, and snatching one up with
practiced ease, approached the grave, carefully stepping over the
circle of salt. Surveying the site, she scratched an outline in the
dirt, and began to dig.  Cindy B. and Crystal G. grabbed shovels and
went to help.  6' 2" Jay Diemert looked at the three diggers, none of
whom topped 5'6", and shook his head.  "I think I'll give you a hand,
ladies!" Taking a shovel, the muscular Vaquero with long, dark, curly
hair strode to their sides, and began digging furiously.

Sherri looked at Torrey, and shook her head. "Nope, don't look at me,
I'm an archaeologist, but hopelessly inept with a shovel!"

Torrey just laughed. "Okay, Sherri, why don't you post some pickets
and keep us from getting arrested for vandalism, that's a much better
use for my teniente anyway!"

Turning to the group, Sherri picked out a few look-outs. Detailing
Sarah and Jenn to keep an eye out upriver, and she sent Lisa Marie and
Jerimi to keep a look-out downriver. Knowing Apache was at home with
nature, Sherri asked her to be a roving sentry.  As the Vaqueras
headed out on patrol, Sherri looked around, and realized that the rest
of the preparations needed to be taken care of, as well.

"Carla, could you go to the van and get that crate of bottles? Nancy,
why don't you go with her, and fetch something back to put the stuff
on."  It was better to have everyone in pairs until this was finished.

Carla and Nancy returned quickly, Carla hauling the crate of bottles,
Nancy with a second crate to set them on.  Torrey gestured towards the
shade of a large tree upwind from the grave. "I think it would be best
if the blood is upwind!"

The figure in the shade of the large tree had faded back when the
Vaqueras were setting the blood on the crate, and opening the bottles.
Once they were finished setting up and they returned to observing the
dig, the figure drifted forward again.

Jay and Debra were making great progress with the pit, Cindy and
Crystal were eagerly helping, although they were not used to using
shovels. Suddenly there was a clink as a shovel struck something.

Everyone froze.

The ground suddenly erupted, throwing Debra, Cindy, Jay, and Crystal
aside, and away from the pit. With a sound of ripping canvas, Vachon
appeared.  He moved rapidly, heading for the blood scent.  The rapidly
moving vampire ran into the silent observer under the tree. With a
blood-curdling snarl, he pounced.

Torrey yelled wildly. "Come on, we've got to stop him!" With shaking
legs, the Vaqueros ran to the melee.  Piling madly on, they were able
to peel Vachon off the still body. Thinking quickly, Bonnie grabbed an
open bottle of blood, and poured it into his snarling mouth.  As the
snarling receded, Bonnie snatched another bottle, and handed it to
him.

The Vaqueras began to crawl to their feet, as Torrey leaned over the
body under the tree. Looking up, she shivered. "She's hurt! Fetch Kat
from the vans!" Jenn, having returned from lookout duty upon hearing
the uproar, sprinted for the vans.

Torrey looked at the unconscious figure; she saw a woman who was 5' 4
3/4" tall, 180 pounds, brown, naturally curly hair, with wire-rimmed
glasses slightly askew on her nose. She quickly applied pressure to
the the woman's bloody throat.

As Charlyne and Bonnie led Vachon over to one of the vans, handing him
a new bottle of blood as he finished each bottle, the other Vaqueras
were quickly backfilling the pit. Some of the others were picking
everything up, quickly smudging the circle of salt into oblivion.


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


The Phantom Emerges
by Cousin Erik LeBeau
TIME : Sun July 28th  Approx 12:30 am

'What am I doing in Toronto?  What am I doing in Toronto?'  He
repeated it like a mantra, as if continually asking the question would
somehow provide an answer.  He hadn't been in this city for more than
a few hours and already the attacks had begun.

Erik was not a hopeless romantic by choice, but through the influence
of several of his now ex-girlfriends, he had been drawn kicking and
screaming into that state of mind.  Nothing, however, could have
prepared him for the rose-petal-and-bad-poetry assault he had just
suffered through.

It was low.  It was very low.  The sonnets were bad enough, but when
the invading Nick & NatPackers had started in with the haiku, he had
quite literally passed out.

"It is well that war is so terrible -- we would grow too fond of it,"
he said to no one in particular as he unpacked.  Having finished that,
he began his next task.  He set the makeup kit on the sink in front of
the mirror and pulled an old white t-shirt over his black silk button-
down. No sense messing *that* up.

The base was first.  He sponged it onto the right side of his face,
giving the skin a slightly reddish tone.  Latex next.  He lifted the
prosthetic skin from its holder and applied it to his face with a
little spirit gum.  Erik blended the base tones into the new
appliance, creating the appearance that the latex was, in fact, his
own skin.  The last step was the final detailing of the appliance, an
illusion created by a little stage blood and red greasepaint.

Once the stage blood had "congealed", he powdered the whole makeup job
down so it would set and then added the final touch: the white mask
that would cover the right side of his face, obscuring the whole job. 
'It's ironic,' he thought, 'that I would spend so much time doing
something that I was just planning to cover anyway.'  Erik shrugged
and reminded himself that the original Phantom had been unmasked, and
the same could happen to him.  Shock value was important.

He carefully removed the now smudged t-shirt and threw it into the
corner he had designated for dirty laundry.  Adding the black and red
cape to his ensemble, he made his way back to the main meeting area.

The Phantom had arrived.


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


WHO's Been Hurt????!!!!! 1/2
Location: By the River Don, Somewhere in Toronto
Time: 1:00 am, July 28th
by Sherri L. Campbell & Torrey Harris

See disclaimer on previous post (Vaqueras Dig the Scene.)
-------------------------------------

Kat and Jenn came running back down through the trees.  Kat
immediately knelt by Torrey at the the injured person's side.  Leaning
over, she checked the vitals as best she could without any equipment
with her.

"Where's the ambulance?  She's got a lacerated throat, but I need a
flashlight to see better. She appears to have blood loss." Kat was
brisk and forthright, her braid waving sharply in response to her
quick movements.

"Kat, we can't call an ambulance! What about Vachon? How would we
explain this?"

Kat looked over at Torrey. "She needs expert assistance!"

Torrey grabbed the woman's identification.  Grabbing the "In Case of
Emergency Card", she shone her flashlight on it. "It says to call
Sarah Chodrow in an emergency.  Handing the card to Ann S. she sent
her off to call Sarah.

The Vaqueros stood in shock.  They had not realized that anyone else
was in the vicinity; not even their pickets had spotted anyone.
Torrey looked up from assisting Kat, and realized how strange it would
look if there were 28 people standing around an accident site.
"Sherri! Quick - get most of the Vaqueros out of here! Have them take
the other vans!"

Sherri spun and grabbed the nearest body. "Uh.. Gay! Quick, take the
keys and get up to the black van! You know the way back to the
church?"

Nodding, Gay E. grabbed the keys and headed out at a run. Quickly
pointing at the nearest group of people, Sherri waved them after Gay.
Looking around frantically, she spotted Katya.

"Katya! Take the red van, drive back to the church, take this bunch
with you!"  Katya yelled an acknowledgement and ran.  The second group
of Vaqueros took off after her. Waving the third group at the yellow
van, she sent Lisa-Marie M. with the keys.

"Okay, Torrey, I've sent all but you, me, Kat, Apache, Bonnie, and
Vachon back to the church. What else do we need to do?"

Torrey looked up. "Do you know who this is?"  Her voice was shaking.

Sherri looked at the woman lying on the ground. Shaking her head, she
replied. "Why, no, I've never seen her before. Who is she?"

Torrey shook her head in disbelief. "It's Diane Echelbarger! The
unaffiliated listee. How on earth did she get here? What is she doing
here?"


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


WHO's Been Hurt????!!!!! 2/2
Location: By the River Don, unspecifed location
Time: July 28th? 1:10 am
by Torrey Harris & Sherri Campbell

see disclaimer on "Vaqueras Dig the Scene"
This follows directly after Who's Been Hurt????!!!!! 1/2
-----------------------

The Vaqueros had scattered to their vans and sped off into the night
leaving just the small group around the still body of Diane E.

"Give me a flashlight!" Kat yelled to the group. Grabbing the light
handed to her she started to look over Diane E. looking for any major
injuries. "Move your hand, Torrey, let me see her neck." Torrey and
Kat both looked at the bloody area of Diane's neck and were terrified
to see that there were in fact bites. Two of them.

"I...." Torrey said, as she looked at Diane E.. "What are we going to
do? She's nearly exsanquinated!"

"What do we do now?" Apache asked looking around, from her nearby
watch post.

"He bit her!" Torrey gasped, "What if she..."

Kat cut her off "No, look. She's unconscious, but I don't think it's
that bad. I don't think he had time to take too much blood before you
pulled him off."

Looking down at Diane E., Torrey agreed "She still will need some
help, we just can't leave her here. Sherri, are you sure someone is
coming for her?"

"Yes, Ann got Sarah on the phone and she said that she was on the way
right now to pick her up and take her to the hospital."

"O.K., where is Vachon?" Torrey asked looking around.

"He's right here........." Bonnie answered, looking around. "Well, he
was right here a minute ago."

"He's gone?!?" Torrey shrieked. "Oh, My God! The Church! We just sent
everyone back to the Church! He's going to go back there and find it
packed with people he doesn't know and go nuts!"

Kat grabbed Torrey's shoulder. "Go!" she yelled. "I will stay here
with Diane until Sarah shows up. You get back to the church, maybe he
didn't go straight there."

Looking down at Diane, Torrey hesitated, then looked back to Kat.
"Don't leave her!" Spinning around she jumped to her feet and yelled
"Move it!" to the small group around her. As a group they headed for
the last van in a dead run. Throwing the keys to Bonnie, they piled
into the van. With a screech of tires, the van sped away, throwing
Apache and Torrey backward in the van.

Clawing her way back up to the front of the van, Torrey growled, "When
I find him I'm going to kill him!"

"You can't kill him, we just unkilled him." Bonnie said as she speed
down the deserted street.

Holding on to the dashboard, Sherri turned to Torrey. "Don't worry, I
know a way to keep him in the grave." She mimicked "Salt, sheeeezz,
Torrey!"

Torrey turned to give a sharp reply, when Bonnie took a corner a
little too fast throwing Torrey into the back of the van again.
Instead of getting up she just laid there. /I haven't even been here
twelve hours!/ Torrey whined to herself just as she went skidding
across the van yet again. "Someone shoot me, please?"


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


A Call in the Night
By Sarah Chodrow, Diane Echelbarger,  AJ Schaafsma, Lana Soward,
and Spifff, all unaffiliated

Sunday, 7/28, 1:15am (immediately after "WHO'S Been Hurt????!!!!!, pt
2")

Spifff, Lana, AJ, and Sarah entered the apartment quietly, in case
Diane was still asleep.  They were immediately accosted by the two
cats, who began sniffing the smokey smell from the club that clung to
their clothes.

"I thought we left them in the bedroom with Diane?"  Sarah protested
as she dug out her allergy medication.

"We did," Spifff agreed, "but the door's open.  She must be awake.
Diane?  You OK?"

"No one here" mused Spifff as she peered into the bedroom.

AJ noticed a piece of paper on the kitchen counter.  "Found a love
letter," she said as she scanned Diane's writing.   "She's gone out
for something to eat.  After a migraine like that, she must be
ravenous."

The phone drowned out the others' comments, and Spifff snatched it
from its cradle.

"Hello, Lothar's body massage, may we help you?"

"Sarah Chodrow?"

"Oops, sorry, hold on." Turning red, Spifff put a hand over the phone.
"It's for you, Sarah."

"Me?"  Sarah frowned, puzzled, and took the receiver.  "Hello?"

"Sarah?"

"Yes?"

"You need to get down here right away.  Diane Echelbarger's been hurt.
Bring an ambulance."

"What?  Wait!  Who are you?"

"No time to talk.  She's at..." the voice read off an address, which
Sarah hastily scribbled on the note Diane had left.  "Hurry."

The line went dead.

"Sure, use the note.  No worries."  AJ tried not to look insulted.

Sarah gulped, then turned to the others.  "Diane's hurt!"

The others erupted into excited questions, but quickly organized
themselves.

"Spifff," Sarah asked, "How do you call an ambulance in Toronto? And
can we use your car, Lana?"

"Sure," Lana agreed.  "Where's the map, so we can find it?"

Sarah and Lana hunched over the map of Toronto and quickly found the
location while Spifff dialled 911 to dispatch an ambulance.

Grabbing the cellular phone that Lana had gotten from the rental car
agency, Sarah and Lana were out the door.

AJ opted to stay in the apartment with Spifff.  "Make sure to check in
when you know something, 'kay?" she called after the others.

Then she and Spifff sat and stared at the phone, waiting for it to
ring again.


The ambulance arrived before they did, and the paramedics were loading
Diane's still form into the vehicle as they hurried up. Bystanders
stood around the scene gawking.

"Excuse me!" Sarah cried.  "We're the ones who called you.  Is she all
right?"

"She's stable," the first paramedic replied.  "The doctor who found
her did a good job, but she's lost a lot of blood.  Looks like she was
bit by a dog or something.  Nasty neck wound.  We're taking her to the
hospital now."

"Neck wound?"  Lana and Sarah exchanged worried glances.  "Can I come
along?" Sarah asked.  "I've got her medical power of attorney."

"Sure, hop in," the man agreed.

"Call the NatPack," Sarah whispered before climbing after him.
"They'll know what to do."

Lana nodded and watched the ambulance leave before pulling out her
cell phone.  Quickly she called the others back at the apartment and
briefed them on the situation.  They agreed to meet at the hospital.
They also managed to dig up a phone number for the NatPack in Toronto.

After leaving a message on the 'Pack's machine, Lana climbed back into
her car and headed toward the hospital, wondering which vampire had
attacked Diane.

Whoever it was better have a damn good excuse.


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


Psychotic Reaction (1/1)

Back at the old church
Sunday July 28th, ~1:30am

By Bonnie Pardoe
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Vachon dropped from the air in front of the back door of the church.
Vague memories of biting into flesh and having a bottle practically
shoved down his throat flashed through his mind.  He wasn't quite sure
what the hell had happened.

Down in the basement, Vachon curled up in the corner, and tried to
sleep. \\Being dead really takes it out of you!\\ he thought to
himself as he closed his eyes.

* * * * *

Not too long after, the first mini-van load of Vaqueros spilled into
the condemned church -- all were pretty worked up after what had
happened down at the river.

"So where did everyone else go?  I thought the other vans were right
behind us."  Lisa-Marie said as she plopped down in one of the pews.

"I saw some of them pull up to one of those all-night markets," Sarah
volunteered.

"Good!  I think we could all use something to eat and drink right
about now," Jay piped in.

"Yeah, we really should have stopped for dinner on the way to the
river," Shannon added as she also took a seat in one of the pews.

Just then Vachon, still covered in dirt, appeared in the door way.  He
glowered at them -- they were noisy and they were in *his* church.

The small group descended upon their idol, all talking at once.
"Vachon!" "Are you okay?"  "I can't believe you're here!"  "This is so
cool!"  "Can we do anything for you?"

"GET OUT!"  Vachon boomed at them.

The Vaqueros stood, staring, unblinking, at their vampire.  Vachon's
eyes began to glow yellow.  He took a slow step toward the intruders;
they slowly backed up.  Vachon stared them down, backing them into a
corner.

Lisa-Marie, being the quick thinking blonde that she was, grabbed a
bottle of blood and held it out to him.  Vachon snatched it out of her
hand and ripped the cork out with his teeth.  He brought the bottle up
to his lips, but stopped -- he sniffed at the contents.

"What the hell is this?  Swine!"  Vachon threw the bottle to the
floor, splattering the terrified Vaqueros with blood and shards of
green glass. Stephanie, at the back of the crowd, tugged on Shannon's
arm and they stole off unnoticed.  "I've been dead for god knows how
long and you give me pig's blood?!  Do I look like Nick Knight to
you?!"  Vachon ranted sarcastically at the weak-kneed group.

Heather blurted out before thinking, "Well, you never did tell your
mortal girlfriend you loved her."

"And I bet Janette wouldn't give you the time of day, either," the
stylish Gay piped in.

"Oh, and I bet someone has a bottle of peroxide you could have," the
dark-haired Dona Nancy added.

Jay, too, had to assist, "I have a black silk shirt you could borrow -
-after you take a shower."

"Who the hell are you people?"  Vachon growled, not amused by their
pathetic attempt at humor.

"We're the Vaqueros!  We're the ones who dug you up!" they all
announced, not quite in unison, but Vachon was able to make out most
of what they said.

Just then, Shannon and Stephanie returned with each with a dust-
covered bottle in their hand.  "Vachon?"  Shannon spoke slowly and
calmly.  "We found these for you."  They held out the bottles to him,
though neither took a step closer.

"We think they're human, but it's hard to tell."  Stephanie added.

Vachon took a step toward them, his eyes still feral, and the two
Vaqueras took an unconscious step backward.  Just then Torrey, Apache,
Bonnie and, Sherri burst in through the front door.  "Have you guys
seen...," but there was no need to finish the sentence; the one they
sought was there, intimidating their compatriots.

"Vachon!" the Vaquero leader yelled at the irate vampire.

He turned yellow eyes upon her.  Slowly, recognition sunk in and his
eyes faded back to that fathomless brown.  "Torrey?  What the hell is
going on here?"  He stepped calmly over to the smaller group
containing a few faces he recognized.

"Vachon.  It's kind of hard to explain.  We dug you up tonight and
things got a bit out of hand."

"And you couldn't bother to plan ahead and get me something better
than pig's blood?"

"What?  Pig's blood?  Damn that Merc!  It was supposed to be human!
Really," Sherri interrupted.

"Here.  We think we found a couple of old bottles of human blood."
Stephanie and Lisa-Marie asserted helpfully.

Apache took the bottles from them.  "Come on, Vachon, let's get you a
little privacy," the dark-haired poet said as she motioned toward the
hallway. Torrey took his arm and began to pull him out of the chapel.

Vachon took a step, but then pulled his arm away from Torrey.  He
walked over to the young woman who stood alone by the front door,
"You're the one who shoved that bottle of blood down my throat."

She nodded, her ample curls bouncing more playfully than she felt.

"Thank you."  He said quietly as he reached out to stroke her cheek.

She pulled back from his hand as if it were a flaming stake.  "You're
welcome," Bonnie said in a flat, not-very-sincere, tone.  Vachon
stared at her for a moment; he cocked his head slightly to the side,
confused by her attitude.  With those soulful brown eyes and his head
tilted like that, he look amazing like her German Shepherd -- she
would have laughed but she didn't.

Sherri took Vachon's arm and lead him out of the room.

Moments after, the rest of the Vaqueros arrived, ladened with grocery
bags full of sodas, juice, cookies, fruit, bread, peanut butter, and
cold cuts. Thankfully, the first van full of Vaqueros descended upon
them -- all talking at once -- telling them about their near-death
encounter with Vachon as they tore through the bags of food.

No one noticed Bonnie as she picked up her tote bag and silently
walked off toward the back of the church.


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


Sightseeing
by Cousin Erik LeBeau
Time: 7/28/96  early morning (various times)
Place: Various

1:30 AM -- Vachon's church

A vanload of Vaqueras pulled up to the church, very shaken from the
attack they had just witnessed.  The tension was only heightened by
the appearance of the newly-revived Vachon, ravenous and furious.
Such was the emotional level that few, if any, noticed the scant flash
of a white mask watching from across the street.

2:00 AM -- The Raven

Depressed over the shambles of the club they had once called home, the
Ravenettes stumbled around the Raven, trying to repair it.  Then came
the arrival of an attractive singing virtuoso looking for a job, and
spirits lifted, the cause renewed and refreshed.  And, not half a
block away, a Phantom looked on, with scarce a trace of not being
there.

2:30 AM -- NatPack HQ

Newly installed, the NatPacks security cameras recieved their first
test as they tracked a figure in black, a splash of white across his
face, step just into the view of the camera.  The figure stood almost
unnaturally still as the camera trained itself on him.  He looked up
into the face of the lens, and then, whipping the cape around his
face, the camera lost him in the surrounding bushes.

3:00 AM -- Nick's loft

Just outside the window, those Knighties present could see in the
corner of a streetlamp, a shadowy form in black, complete with a cape
and... a mask?  The figure waved a gloved hand toward the loft, and
faded into the shadows and was gone.

3:30 AM -- CERK

He entered the station, passing the security checks, and joined
several of the Cousins on a nearby couch.

"And just where have you been, young man?" Marg asked in jest.

Erik shrugged.  "Oh, just doing a little sightseeing."


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


RUNNING DOWN A DREAM
The Old Church
Sunday, July 28th, not long after 2 am

By Bonnie Pardoe (with input from Cynthia, and special thanks to Jane)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bonnie finally managed to sneak away from the herd of Vaqueros.  She
took a long, deep breath and reveled in the stillness of the small,
back room. \\Another all-nighter -- so what's new?  Well, it *is* good
to be back in Toronto,\\ Bonnie thought to herself.  \\And thank
goodness it's warm this time!\\

She started flipping through the pages of the telephone book she had
previously absconded with.  \\Since I'm gonna be here for a while this
time, I'm gonna make the best of it -- war or no war!\\  She quickly
ruffled through the pages until she reached the 'N' section, then she
ran her finger over the page.  \\Newspapers... NewsRacks... Nickel...
Nightclubs.\\ "Ah!" \\R... R... Raven.\\ "Ah ha!"  Bonnie wrote down
the address on a slip of paper.

"Excellent," she said, unconsciously imitating a certain dark-haired
vampire she had recently assisted in resuscitating.

Now, all the young woman had to do was get dress.  Bonnie plopped her
only piece of luggage on top of a crate and unzipped it.  \\Next time
*I'm* bring more stuff, so I don't end up carrying everybody else's
crap!\\  Out of the tote bag, she produced a long-sleeved, dark blood-
red, crushed-velvet dress and a pair of black thigh-high stockings.
She slipped on the dress, with it's very flattering almost-off-the-
shoulder neckline, and then pulled on the stockings.  Bonnie laced up
her Doc Martins, and then took a quick couple of strides across the
room just to check that not too much thigh showed when she moved.  A
quick run of her fingers through her naturally-curly hair -- the only
styling method which didn't either destroy the curls or turn them into
something reminiscent of cotton candy -- and she was all set.

Bonnie pulled two tapes out of the front pocket of her pack.  The
first one -- a Tom Petty compilation tape of her own making -- she
kissed for luck and slipped back inside the pocket of her black
leather jacket.  The second one -- her club audition tape, just in
case they weren't set up for a live audition -- she tossed in the
folder containing her sheet music.  So, with fingers crossed and a
song in her heart, Bonnie grabbed her jacket and the folder of music,
and snuck out the back door.

* * * * *

Cynthia leaned against the bar, her head resting against her left hand
as she tapped her pen against the pad of legal-sized yellow paper.
\\There is just too damn much to do before tomorrow night!\\

She was tired and the dust was getting to her to!  Standing up
straight, she decided she needed a break.  She looked about for Jane,
but she was no where in sight.  Sighing, Cynthia headed toward the
front door.

The door creaked as she pulled it open.  \\Damn, another thing to
remember to fix!\\  The cool air swept over her as she stepped out
into the moonlight.  The air was so refreshing after the stuffy, dusty
club.  The dark-haired Raven took a deep breath -- there was a tinge
of sea in the air which reminded her a bit of home back on the West
Coast.

As she paced leisurely in front of the club, she noticed someone
approaching from the end of the block.  As the figure approached,
Cynthia determined it was a woman.  \\It's a little late to be bar
hopping, and *we're* not even open yet.\\

Just then the young woman stepped into the light of the street lamp
and Cynthia immediately recognized her friend from back home.
"Bonnie?  What are you doing here?"

"Cynthia!  Am I glad to see you.  It's been a hellava day!"  The two
friends hugged and smiled at each other, both pleased and surprised.
"Does this mean that Janette is back in charge?"

Cynthia nodded, a smug smile played over her lips.

"Good!  Say, can you guys use a singer?"

"Sure can!  Whom do you have in mind?"  Cynthia lovingly teased her
friend.

"Me!  I can sing, ya know," Bonnie replied indignantly.

Cynthia raised an eyebrow at Bonnie, which caused both to flash back
to that trip to the airport last spring when Bonnie had treated
Cynthia and Jane to her rendition of 'The Vachon Song' -- a torturous
song on the best of days. The friends laughed and fell into each
other's arms again.

"Come on inside, Bon, and we'll see what we can do?"


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


A Crusade of Knighties
by Perri Smith and Catherine Boone

Toronto, Quebec
July 28, 1996, 10:13 a.m.
Nick's Loft

This takes place after Getting the Show on the Road.

It was a solemn group of Knighties who assembled in the loft, huddled
on and around various pieces of furniture and luggage as if they'd
never left the last time. Cath and Perri had spent a little time
finishing the cleanup Myra Schanke had started -- the last of the
fingerprint powder was gone, and the furniture was uncovered, at
least.  It would still be quite a while though, before it became
comfortable enough to call home.  Lit by what few candles they could
find, the room was filled with shadows, real and imagined.

Huddled was the right word, Perri reflected; while not the compulsive
huggers the NatPack were (Perri herself being accepted), the Knighties
were grouped in small clumps, apparently taking comfort from each
other, the first time they'd been able to be together since Nick had
left. Perri sighed. The next ten minutes were not going to be fun.

"Nick's alive and fine," she started bluntly.

Cath glared at her. "That was real tactful."

"You can think of a better way to tell them?" Cath started to answer,
then stopped, yielding the floor. Perri smiled with grim triumph. "He
asked us to come to Toronto to do him a favor. We haven't been able to
yet, which is why the two of us called all of you."

"Wait a minute." Predictably, Amy Denton popped in first. "Nick *is*
alive, like we thought, he just didn't bother to tell us?"

"That's about right," Cath said neutrally.

There was a moment of silence, then their voices arose in a din of
accusation toward Nick's intelligence and antecedents, defense of
Nick's intelligence and antecedents, and general havoc.  Perri and
Cath, remembering their own swearing binge, sat it out patiently.

Until the yelling threatened to turn into violence, anyway.

"All right, that's enough!" Perri pitched her voice to carry over the
din with long experience. "It doesn't matter why he took off on us,
and I guarantee you'll all get an explanation and a chance to yell at
him. For now, we have to worry about finding that damn book."

"What book?" Maryann asked from the bench of the piano.

"Nick's little bl-- *brown* book." Cath grinned as Perri went on. "The
one with his bank numbers and contacts in it."

"Oh," Vicky said. "That book."

Perri rolled her eyes and turned it over to Cath. "He lost it when he
was scrambling to get out of here the night he and Natalie
disappeared," she picked up smoothly, "and he sent us here to find
it."

"But...?" Dottie asked suspiciously.

"But we can't find the stupid thing. Not here, not at the station, not
in the Caddy."

Allie piped up from the back, wearing her customary wry smile.  "Did
you check under the fridge?"

"Ha ha.  You buckin' for dumpster duty, or what?"  Allie wrinkled her
nose and looked innocently at the walls.

"So anyway, that's the deal.  Now, knowing how much territory Nick
covers over the course of a day, by car and by air, that little gem
could be anywhere in the city.  We need to make a systematic search,
going over places he frequents first, going on a street-by-street
search if nothing else.  We *need* to find this thing, guys," Cath
emphasized.

Perri piped in, "It's got his whole life in there.  If some random
schmoe should lay hands on it, they could ruin Nick, several times
over."

They looked to see that everyone understood the urgency of their task.
They shared a glance, satisfied, and Perri reclaimed the floor.  "All
right. We'll spend tonight getting unpacked and settled in, go on a
grocery run and all that.  It'll allow for some of us to get over our
jet lag and get some food in our stomachs while we all catch up.  It's
been a while." She smiled, but it suddenly faded to a look of grim
determination.

"Tomorrow morning, we get to work."

A pause.  "Perri -- it's already tomorrow."

"Don't bother me with details.  Go to sleep."


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


Battlefield Promotion
by Tigon Diana Hooker

2am-ish EST-28 JUL 1996
Jody's Jet

A few hours later and they were close to landing in Toronto. Tigon had
spent the time playing catch-up...not that there were a lot of facts
so much as rumor and suppositions. One thing she discovered was that
Jody wasn't staying in Toronto with Perry and the WoofPack. She now
ran a private one-plane airline that catered to vampires. It was quite
logical, actually, and she was very in demand by those who often had
to be shipped in steam trunks to get around. As it was she had had to
cancel several paid flights in order to gather the various members of
the pack.

Tigon sat enthralled in the cockpit with her...flying in the cockpit
was too kewl. Jody even let her take the wheel...or whatever the
proper airplane name for the thing was...for a too brief spell. Then
the silence was broken by Jody's casual question, "So, what are you
going to do once you get there?"

"Whatever whoever's in charge says to do, I suppose."

"You're in charge."

It was a good thing that Tigon was no longer holding the wheel.


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


Candid NetCam
by Sharon Himmanen
Time: 7/28/96, 2:30AM, shortly after "Sightseeing"

Sharon clicked on the new link.  She'd never been able to resist those
pages that had cameras hooked up to the internet, and now was no
exception as she sat at the NatPack HQ unable to sleep.  SpamCam had
been down for weeks, a fact she was most disappointed over.  In the
interim she'd contented herself with having an observatory in New
Mexaco take pictures of the Gemini constellation for her every night
for a month.

But that was getting old.

"HostelCam," she said aloud, deciding to follow that particular link. 
It took her to a page that indicatated that they had a camera hooked
up at a local Youth Hostel over on the other side of the city.
"Pretty cool," she added, wishing there'd been something like that
when she'd been traveling in England a decade ago.  It would have been
neat to see yourself on the Net while travelling in a foreign country.
Though considering how dragged out she'd been at the end, not having
widely publicized pictures at the time was probably a Good Thing.
That's when Sharon realized *that's* what the camera was set up for--a
sort of "look at me, ma" joke people here were playing on unsuspecting
foreigners.  It was amusing, she decided, in a cruel way. Almost
worthy of a war.

A picture loaded, and Sharon leaned forward, frowning.

"Weird," she said, deciding that even somewhat innocent things like
this somehow managed to attract freaks.  And this guy was certainly a
freak she mused as she watched the series of frames the camera had
taken in rapid succession.  He stepped out in obvious view of the
camera, his face covered in white greasepaint like he'd just gotten
back from a KISS concert, then he'd pulled the collar of his coat up
like he'd been embarrased by the whole thing, as well he should be,
and made a beeline for the nearest bushes.

It seemed like KISS was suddenly everywhere now, and she wondered
briefly if Jamie was up to something.  But Sharon decided this Jamie
just wasn't that cryptic.  If this was some attack Sharon would know
by now.  No, it was some bizare coincidence.

With a shrug she was suddenly glad she'd decided to avoid PottyCam,
considering the luck she'd had so far this evening.  Instead, she hit
the back button and decided to look for SouvlakiCam.  It had been a
while since she'd visited that particular link and she was rather fond
of it, when all was said and done.


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


An anxiously waited phone call...
By:  AJ Schaafsma & Diane Echelbarger, unaffiliated

2:30 am Sunday 7/28

Spifff yawned hugely as she sank onto the couch.  It wasn't that she
wasn't worried about her friend; she was.   But she'd been awake since
6am and had tromped over half of Toronto as "native guide" for her
friends, and it was beginning to catch up with her.

AJ paced back and forth between the living room and kitchen as they
both waited for the phone to ring.

Time passed.

Slowly, Spifff's eyes closed.....

"A-h'on, a-dha, a-tri, a-ceither, a-coik..."  AJ began to count as she
paced back and forth.  "What's taking them so long?  Enter manic mode.
Nope. Already there.  How long has it been?" Taking a deep breath, she
rambled on, not noticing that Spifff was asleep.

"A sheana bhean-bhochd, cha'n fhalbh thu an nochd...  What?  How about
Am Muilean Dubh?  Faster and faster until I run out of breath.  Tha
nead na circe-fraoich, anns a' mhuileann dubh, 'sa mhuileann dubh..." 
And so it continued...

The phone rang.  AJ jumped towards the phone, and looked blankly at it
while she waited (hand on receiver) for the second ring.  "Spiff,
shouldn't you--"  Only then did she notice that her hostess was
asleep. "It's kinda late don'tcha know..."  AJ reminded herself, and
answered in a midwestern  drawl.

AJ started taking notes as she listened to Lana's account of what
they'd found.  Almost professional, her voice showed no sign of the
manic fit of moments earlier.  Her wrinting was large, and Tuppence
jumped up on the counter and followed the pen's movements with
intelligent interest.

"The NatPack? ... Sure, no prob. ... The blue duffle bag isn't in the
corner. ... Oh! Got it. It was near the closet. ... Okay, X-files
notepad."  AJ gave Lana the phone numbers for for Jennie & Amy, U
Toronto. "Okay honey. Uhh... Yeah, I'm on my way. I'll leave Spiff
note asleep. Err... A note for Spiff, who is asleep."

When off the phone however, she repeated everything, somewhat out of
order to Spiff and the cats.  The fact that Spiff was sound asleep did
not stop her from repeating it all again.

The cats, at least, listened intently.

"Yeah, you're right."  AJ said when Tuppence gave vent to an imperious
"Myow-yow-*yow*!",   "It's late and we should be asleep.  You *can*
run amok while we are awake, ya know."

"Okay Spacelady Spifff, what's next?"  AJ turned to her hostess, who
merely murmured in her sleep and burrowed deeper into the sofa
cushions. AJ scribbled a quick note under the notes from Lana's phone
call, and pinned it to the fridge.  Then she turned to the cats. "Tell
me what. You tell her what's gone on, and give her this when she
wakes. Thanks muchly." She stroked each of the cats under the chin
before grabbing her backpack, checking for her wallet and other
essentials, and locked the door behind her.


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


You're Not Leaving *That* In Here!
By:     Mercenary Cousin Lisa Prince

[timing: early morning 7/28; follows "What Shall We Do With a
Drunken Sailor?"; before "Do You Hear the People Sing?"]

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

Mercenary Cousin Lisa was finally falling off to sleep in her
specially constructed war room in the basement of Merc. Central. She
had kicked the workers out a half and hour ago, explaining that there
were more than enough side tunnels and dead ends to prevent anyone
from accidentally stumbling in here on the off chance that they found
one of the hidden outside entrances.

She had turned this one, little, basement, utility room into a four-
room suite that had everything she could ever want or need. The
tunnels were an afterthought really.  She knew that as a split faction
Mercenary/Cousin she would need to keep her dealings with either side
fairly quiet.  This suite offered her that opportunity. Of course, her
father was going to have a fit when he figured out that she had hi-
jacked a bunch of his workers and equipment and took them to another
country, but she'd deal with that problem when it arrived.

Thoughts of her upcoming job and her current situation were flitting
through her mind as she dozed off.

Suddenly, her tranquillity was broken by a loud knocking on the door. 
She knew Dianne and Christina had warned people to stay away, so she
was alert immediately.

Lisa stumbled through the darkened bedroom and the control room to the
door.  She peered through the peep hole and saw Dianne standing there
smiling pensively.  Unlocking and opening the door a crack, Lisa
asked, "What's going on?"

"We need a favor," Dianne replied.

"Already?" Lisa said, "Well, what is it?"

Gesturing behind her, Dianne said looking rather hopeful, "We need to
lock him in your room."

Lisa leaned over to the right to see what Dianne was pointing at.
Once she saw it, she stayed there unmoving.  She looked like a
blinking Leaning Tower of Pisa.

Straightening back up, Lisa snarked, "Now *that* gives new meaning to
the term -- looks like a drowned rat."

"Well," Dianne snapped, "open up and let us dump him."

"You're *not* dumping him in here," Lisa snapped right back. "I paid
the guild a lot of money for this little set-up and I'm not about to
smell it up by having a rat-sucking vampire locked up in my bedroom!"

Dianne put her hands on her hips, rose up to her full height and
bellowed, "YOU'RE IN MY HOUSE AND UNDER MY ROOF AND AS LONG AS YOU ARE
YOU'LL OBEY MY RULES!!!  NOW, OPEN UP!!!!"

When Lisa just stood there staring at Dianne for several minutes,
Christina thought that there was going to be a fight any minute.

Glaring, Lisa said, "Fine bring him in, but I'll lock him up where I
want him."

"Fine," said Dianne smugly.  She swished into the room with a superior
GHP-air and pointed to the corner where she wanted Christina to dump
Screed.

Huffing and puffing, Christina dragged him into the room and propped
him up in the corner.

Before leaving, Dianne turned to Lisa with a smile and said, "Of
course, we'll reimburse you for the inconvenience of storing him."

With a slam of the door, they were gone.

Lisa stood there staring off into space for a few minutes,
contemplating this new wrinkle.  Then, a wicked grin began to form on
her face.  She remembered that the worker's foreman had mentioned that
they had mistakenly broken into the sewer at the end of one of the
side tunnels.  She turned and walked to the utility/storage room and
pulled out a wheelbarrel.

Once picking up Screed and dumping him into it, she punched in the
door code, allowed the scanner to read her handprint, and used her key
to unlock the door leading out into the tunnels.

After around fifteen minutes of navigating through the twisting and
turning tunnels, she arrived at the broken sewer wall. She
contemplated Screed for a moment and almost changed her mind. She
almost felt sorry for him.  'Afterall,' she thought to herself, 'the
poor guy *was* just dug up.  Maybe I should be nice to him.' She
laughed out loud at that thought.  'Yeah, sure Lee, nice to a hungry
vampire.  Good plan.'  With a smirk on her face, she pushed him
through to the sewer.  After checking to make sure that he was still
fast asleep, she ran back to her storage room, scanned the shelves of
bottled blood.  It was a good thing she had planned ahead.  She knew
that some of her employers would want her to deal with the vampires
and she'd rather they had something to drink before they considered
her neck.  To that end, she had gone to the trouble of getting several
different kinds of blood: rat, cow, human, she had even located a
crate of Lacroix's Special Stock that had been sitting untouched in
the alley behind the Raven.

Grabbing three bottles of rat blood, a piece of paper and a pen, she
ran back to where she had left Screed.  Sticking her upper body
through the whole in the wall, she placed the bottles by his hand.
Then, she sat down in the tunnel to pen her note:

        Dear Screed:

        I know you're probably hungry, so I've left you a couple of
        bottles of blood.  I hope you don't mind that I couldn't sit
        and wait for you to wake up.  I trust that since you're back
        in your home, you'll be very comfortable.  If you need
        anything, feel free to contact Dianne the GHP at Merc.
        Central.

        Your Friend,
        Mercenary Cousin Lisa

Reaching back through the hole, she stuck the note in his pocket,
trying not to breath too deeply when she was doing so.

Knowing that having a vampire lurking down here in the tunnels could
be hazardous to everyone's health, she grabbed some of the left over
mortar and bricks and quickly filled in and double reinforced the hole
leading to the sewer.

Her work for the evening done, she hoped, Lisa headed out of the
tunnels.  Once back in her rooms, she plopped down in bed, still fully
clothed and was asleep in seconds.


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


Do You Hear the People Sing?
   by Dianne la Mercenaire
      <Cat.Goddess@pobox.com>

[timing:  early a.m. Sun 7/28-- after "...Drunken Sailor" but well
before dawn]



Her Chocolateness Dianne la Mercenaire, by Divine Right and Cool Karma
Grand High Poohbah of the Forever Knight Mercenary Guild, sat in her
office and brooded.

The office was not the cause of the brooding. It was a lovely, custom-
furnished office with dark wood paneling nearly obscured by loaded
bookcases. Plush carpeting caressed her bare feet and luxurious
leather upholstery embraced her as she sat at the large, walnut desk.
The computer system was state-of-the-art, as was the built-in stereo
system.

Sound proofing protected high Guild secrets from prying ears (and let
her sing along with the CDs as loud as she liked). Elegant sliding
panels opened to reveal intricate blueprints for future plots... (Oh,
all right.  So they're stick-figure drawings.  They _work_-- and
that's what's important.  That and the paneling to hide them behind
when receiving visitors :-)

An automatic iced tea machine was on at all times, and as she sipped
she could open the remote-controlled shutters and look out over the
hot tub below. (Oooops!  Look,... no... don't....*Again*? Maybe better
just keep those blinds shut.... <sigh>)

Over the newly-installed finger-print scanning lock plate on the door
was carved and picked out in gold the Guild's motto: "Chocolate,
Freedom, Mayhem for Profit." Beneath it, a cat door was installed in
such a way as to allow free access only to the four footed residents
of the place.

No, all in all it was a *lovely* office-- quite befitting her
position.

What was bothering her late into the night, long after the urge to
sleep had come and gone, was The Pack.

They seemed harmless enough-- cultish, eerie... even 'Borg-like'--but
essentially just a little more bounce than sense. Or so they
*seemed*....

But since the last outbreak of war, they had single-handedly had a
devastating impact upon the Guild roster-- siphoning off the
strongest, most experienced Mercs and sucking them into the gritty,
dark void of NatPackerism.

She shook her head as she reviewed the damage: Last War's GHP, taken
even as the War ended, spirited away in a suspicious manner and never
heard from again. The whole situation _reeked_ of foul play.

Jamie-- sudden and unexpected star in that War-- had since also been
seduced by the Dark Side. But Dianne had in her possession, acquired
with no small sacrifice, a photograph of the WebGoddess dressed in a
NatPack shirt and surrounded by smiling, bouncy, glassy-eyed Packers.
She shuddered-- it was so obviously a brain-washing in progress.

They'd even come after her! As she was being elected they had
appeared. Luckily, she had the advantage of being one of the few Mercs
who had never been anything but. She'd joined up as the affiliation
began and never been tempted to leave. She had been ambushed in the
parking lot outside a Wisconsin Red Lobster by a Pack-let, but had
fought back bravely against overwhelming odds and escaped with her
sense intact. The Packers had finally given up on her in disgust.

But now she worried about Christina. She was Merc Mommy General-- a
strong, commanding, skilled voice of experience upon whom Dianne
relied heavily in the day-to-day leadership of the Guild. She was also
a personal friend.

That made it doubly hard to admit to the dark suspicions growing in
Dianne's soul. Christina had been spending a lot of time with the Pack
recently.  Sure, it had started out as a job, but she was practically
_living_ with them as she guarded Jamie.

And the Pack needed far less than that to get their insidious hooks
into someone. Yet she needed to be able to trust her second-in-
command.

She needed to be able to trust her *friend*.

It had gone on too long.  Their depraved plotting had decended into
depths no Merc should know. It was time to take her Guild back from
the Shadow of the pack.

It was time to bring our people *home*.

Dianne's brow furrowed as she looked out the skylight, eyes resting on
the stars while her brain wandered dark, lonely, trecherous paths.


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


Recriminations

[timing:  early a.m. Sun 7/28-- after "...Drunken Sailor" but well
before dawn-- concurrent with "Do You Hear the People Sing?"]

By Lane Lombardia (with suggestions and helpful hints from the GHP)

Lane sat on the floor of his darkened room in Merc Central, one leg
tucked underneath him with the other wrapping around in front, in the
classical fudo za meditative posture. His breathing was long, and
slow, as he tried to clear his mind and meditate. Unfortunately, it
just *wasn't* working!

Self-recriminations about how he, as Guild Recruiter, had failed to
prevent the defections of the former Grand High Poohbah, Maureen, and
a key figure in the fifth war, Jamie (who had been both an employer
and one of his star recruits) haunted him. Both had been lost to the
Natpackers, and now, there were signs that he might be losing his most
stellar recruit, Christina Kamnikar, MMG.

Each of these realizations was like a hot brand on bare flesh, and he
physically winced under their influence, as they flashed through his
mind.

It was just far too galling to him that the very people who had placed
Nick, LaCroix, Vachon, Screed, and Janette in jeopardy by withholding
valuable information on a band of flagrant lunatics (after all, what
is the problem with a few vampires? sheeesh!), were the very same
folks who had managed to steal away some of the Guild's best talent.
Frankly, it was really ticking him off!

That was when he caught himself...

"Revenge is a dish, best served cold."

He realized that he wasted time and effort brutalizing himself for
Maureen's and Jamie's defection. The task at hand was to get them
back, and make deadly certain that they DIDN'T get Christina.

His breathing slowed again, evening out. His thumb and little finger
looped together, and he regained his center. An evil smile crept
across his lips.


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


Hospital Horrors
Time:  Sunday, July 28, 3:30am
      After "An Anxiously Awaited Phone Call"
Authors: Lana G. Soward  & AJ Schaafsma


Hospital Horrors

Lana pushed through the double doors of the hospital and stopped to
look for directions to the emergency room.  True to hospital form, the
visitor parking lot was on the other side of the hospital and the only
spot available was in the outer Siberia of parking lots.

She ran down the corridor looking for Sarah.  She was so intent on
looking for Sarah that she almost ran *past* her.  Quickly going into
reverse, she stopped and sat down, trying to catch her breath.  18
hours a day in front of a computer was not inducive to physical
fitness.

"How is she?"  she asked Sarah, when she'd caught her breath.

Sarah shook her head.  "I don't know.  They took her in there," she
said, waving at the doors that said "AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY".  "And
I haven't seen her since.  Did you call the NatPack?"

"I left a message," Lana said.  "AJ and Spifff should be here soon.  I
called them, too."  She rubbed the back of her head and hoped that the
pressure she felt there wouldn't turn into a migraine.  "I hope that
we have something soon.  I have a meeting with Felix at 8, that I
don't want to miss.  I probably wouldn't get another appointment until
the next ice age.   Look here comes AJ."

AJ rushed up to the two women, nearly falling over from her sudden
stop.  "Spifff's taking a holiday from conciousness.  I left her a
note and instructions for the cats to make sure she gets it."

The three unaffliates decided that it would be best to mount a guard
over Diane until they understood what was going on and to make sure
that the vampire didn't return to finish the job.

"This is where being unaffliated is a disabvantage," bemoaned Lana.
"Unlike the other factions, we can't dragoon some poor soul into
staying with her for the duration.  We'll have to take turns."

"Excuse me."

The three women turned to face the nurse, who'd approached them and
was waiting for their attention.

She consulted her clipboard.  "Are you here with ... Diane
Echoburger?"

"Echelbarger," they corrected automatically and simultaneously.  They
looked at each other and laughed.

"Well, you can see her now."

The nurse led them down a hall into a room.

They stood in silence and looked at Diane.  Finally Lana said, "Looks
like she's doing a Michael Jackson impersonation."

"It looks like it would take forever to get in there.  That will buy
us some time and make whoever think twice."  said AJ quietly.

"How long do you think she'll have to stay in there," wondered Sarah.

"About a week," said the doctor, who'd just come through the door.

Lana, AJ and Sarah glanced at the doctor and then as a group took a
step back, bumping into the hyberbarlic chamber.

"I'm Nigel Wetmore," said the doctor.  "Diane's physician."

The three just stared at him.

Nigel Wetmore was a dead ringer for Lucien LaCroix.

"Oh, Murphy..." swore AJ.


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


Tape Tree Dreams
Time:  Sunday, July 28, 3:30am
Place: Spifff's Apartment
Author: Lana G. Soward


Spifff rolled over.  Her movements barely disturbed the cats as they
crawled over her desk.  One stepped on the power switch to her
computer and it sprang into life.

Deep in sleep, Spifff heard the computer come on and her subconscious
incorporated it into her dream.

****

She sat at her computer answering her mail.  Dressed in a swim cap and
flippers, she occasionally jabbed at the keyboard with a spatula.

When she paused to read a message she would use the spatula to flip a
piece of pizza up into the air, catch it and eat it without losing a
pepperoni. (Hey, this is a dream.  You want sense and feasibility?)

One message in particular caught her attention.

Date:         Sun, 28 Jul 1996 21:05:40 -0700
From: LG Soward <lgs@ix.netcom.com>
Subject:      Another Tape Tree Tour

Since FKFIC-L is begin held, I'll throw this into the vastness of
cyberspace

In the grand tradition of my fellow weekender, Tami LaFrank, I'm
offering to sponsor another Ger Weekend Tape Tree Tour.   The number
of tapes that go on tour will depend on the number of responses I get.
So, if you'd like to get a ticket for the tour, please email
lgsoward@aol.com, NOT my netcom account.   I'll be taking names until
Wednesday NOON.

Put GER TAPE in the header, so I'll know it's for the TapeTour.
What I'll need is your name, address, and email address.

Ta!

Lana
the invisible weekender
lgs@ix.netcom.com


Suddenly the landscape changed and she was standing in front of the
mythical tape tree.  Cassettes dangled just barely out of her reach.
She tried to jump up to catch one, but was hampered by a fat pad that
had mysteriously appeared around her waist.  Finally, she untied it
and tried again, but she still couldn't reach a cassette.  It seemed
as if the branches were deliberately moving out of the way.

"Why can't I get one?"  she cried in frustration.

The tree rustled and the cassettes clicked together.  She heard a
voice boom, "BECAUSE YOU HAVEN'T FOLLOWED THE INSTRUCTIONS!"

The tree rustled again and a single leaf fell from the tree.  Spifff
picked it up and saw that it was an email form.

"ADDRESS IT TO LGSOWARD@AOL.COM" , the tree boomed, since, of course,
it was the tree talking.  "AND PUT GER TAPE IN THE HEADER"

Spifff hastily scribbled down the information and waved it at the
tree.

"WRONG ADDRESS"

She looked at the form and realized that she'd written down
lgs@ix.netcom.com, instead. Hastily, she changed the address and waved
it back at the tree.

"PUT YOUR REAL NAME, SNAIL MAIL ADDRESS AND EMAIL ADDRESS AND THEN
MAIL IT."

Spifff scribbled down the appropriate information and then said, "Now
what?"

"WHY YOU MAIL IT, SILLY" rustled the tree.  "IN THE SEND BOX."

She turned and saw the silver mailbox, marked SEND MAIL.  She dropped
her email form in the box.  As she listened to it drop, she was
suddenly seated back at her computer, staring at a message that said
"You mail has been sent."

She reached out with her spatula and flipped up another piece of pizza
and went onto the next message.

***

Spifff licked her lips in her sleep as she savored the pizza of her
dreams. The scampering of the cats still failed to wake her up.

The cats ignored her as well.  They were too busy logging into COL
(Cats On-Line).  Once logged in, they started answering their email
and sending mail to HUMANS-L, a mailing list devoted to the discussion
of the care and handling of humans.

Spifff slept peacefully on.


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


Marking Our Territory
by Tigon Diana Hooker

Predawn to mid-Morning-28 JUL 1996
Toronto, Lizbet's FG Headquarters


As the disembarked from the plane, Tigon struggled to take it all in.
Why her? Sure, she had been with Perry's pack for nearly a year now
while the others had only been with him for a couple of months at the
most. And she did have at least twice as many dogs as the others. And
she was the only one that could make heads or tails of Perry's
sendings. But still....!

So, here Tigon stood on a deserted back runway with two people and
twenty-two dogs, the sun due up in about an hour, and no real idea why
they were here in the first place. Not good. She stood and tried to
look like a leader thinking great thoughts as her brain skittered
around like the rat in her backpack. Then a thought finally occured.
Just before her computer had crashed, she had gotten a post to the
FangGang from Lizbet...something about renting a house in Toronto. It
had made no sense to Tigon at the time, but now...

:::Which house? Which house? Come on, Tigon, remember::: Tigon was
going to have to see about upgrading her brain to a Pentium 150. She
knew the information was there...THERE! Slow but sure, she finally
recalled the house. "Do you guys fly?" she asked her new followers.

Pasty faces were her answer.


It had taken a lot of cajoling and the threat to their vamppuppies
from impending dawn to get the troops airborne. It had also taken
quite a bit of logistic and a stop at an all night gas station for a
map to find the bloody house. Landing on the lawn with the horizon
turning pinkish-red, Tigon hoped that this was the right place,
otherwise the occupants were in for quite a shock. Approaching the
front door, she found this note to it:

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.

There was also something about where to pick up a key. Looking at the
brightening sky, Tigon decided to bypass such niceties. "Steve," she
said, "Do you think you could kick this door in?"

"No problem." And he did so to prove it.

"Tsk tsk," said Tigon as the group poured in, "They just don't make
them like they used to." She shut the door and hoped Lizbet wouldn't
notice the large footprint imprinted on her elegant note. Joining the
group in the foyer, she looked and felt the utter stillness of the
place. "I don't think anybody's here, pups." she said. A quick search
verified her observation. "Well, grab a dark room and get some rest,"
Tigon told the others and hastened to do the same.

She found a largish bedroom with heavy curtains and installed her dogs
in there, promising herself to join them within an hour. First she had
responsibilities. She needed to get hold of Lizbet...maybe she knew
what was going on. Also, there were Maryann and the Knighties to
contact. Rummaging through the kitchen, she realized that
kibble...lots of it...needed to be bought, and a blood supply found.
Kosher deli's were always good for that. Tigon stared aimlessly in the
fridge, wondering if there was anything *she* could eat.

Then childhood swept her away as the house vibrated to the sounds of
ROCK and ROLL.

"I...wanna rock and roll all night...and party every day!"

Concerned that one of the dogs had tripped the stereo, she went in
search of it only to hear the doorbell. Opening it, she found the
source of the noise to be the band playing outside. Also present was a
messanger with chocolate and coffee...things that never crossed
Tigon's lips...and a postcard from the Web Goddess herself. Signing
Lizbet's name on the dotted line, she went outside to see if she
persuade these guys to do a rendition of 'Beth,' oblivious to the
groaning inhabitants of the house and neighborhood. After a few songs,
the band finally begged off and left.

Tigon hit the proverbial hay, only to be woken a few hours by a high-
pitched squeal, "What the devil is going on here!!!" She debated
whether she wanted to deal with Lizbet, but realized from the thudding
sounds of Lizbet's feet (how could such a tiny person make *so* much
noise???) that the choice wasn't hers to make. "Tigon! I know you're
here somewhere! Who else would bring the wild kingdom?!" The door
flung open and Tigon debated doing her best possum imitation. "There
you are!"

The dogs still in here room slunk quickly out as Tigon said as non-
chalantly as she could manage, "Bore da, Lizbet."

Lizbet shoved the front door's note in her face, "What is this?"

"Um, I believe it's a note inviting me in. Very beautiful calligraphy,
by the way."

"Key!" Lizbet yelled, "Discover the concept!"

"Wasn't time...sun was coming up." Tigon strove to look penitent,
"Sorry."

"What happened on the front lawn then...forget the fact that there's
at least half-a-dozen piles of...um..."

"Doggie doo?"

"Forget that! It looks like someone threw a party on the lawn."

"Uh, that would be KISS," said Tigon. "Well, they weren't *really*
KISS...but they were pretty good."

Lizbet paused. "They were here too?" she asked, then continued her
tirade before Tigon could answer, "And what did I say about filling up
the fridge?"

"KISS was hungry."

"So let me see if I have this right...you've been here only a few
hours yet have broken my door and two out of three rules?"

The sounds of snarling and barking drifted up the stairwell as did
Becky's shrieked, "Dog fight! TIIIGGGGOOOONNN!!!"

Lizbet crumpled the note forlornly as Tigon went to break it up.


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


To Make a Dulcet and Heavenly Sound 3/3
by: Cousin Candice
time: right after part 2
        WELL after WAR: Liquor *is* quicker by Lisa McDavid

4:00 am Sunday Morning 7/28

....Seven hours and a TON of fineggling and promises later....

Candice stepped out of the limo, wrinkled in her kakhi's and tee-
shirt, at the front door of the CERK station.  She turned to the
driver.

"Wait here, I'll be just a few minutes."

It was unusually quiet, especially quiet for War time.  No door
guards? No shifting shadows?  Candice sighed and cursed herself for
the 7th time in an hour.  They all must be out galavanting around the
city or sound asleep in bed.  But they were Cousins and Candice had a
feeling it was the former, rather than the later.  The front door was
locked, but she still had the keys LaCroix had given her from her last
war-time venture into Toronto.  She hadn't even made arrangements to
stay anywhere yet and thought better of the idea to plotz herself down
on LaCroix's couch again.

Candice entered the station through the side door.  She ran quickly up
the stairs -elevators were noisy and she didn't really want to deal
with peppy Cousins at the moment- to the On-Air room.

Taking a pen and paper from the outside desk she left a note on the
glass in big bold letters:

                HEY LISA & TOK
                  JUST MADE IT.
                  516-524-8624
                (new cell phone)

                        -Cousin Candice

Candice left as unobtrusively as when she came in.  She locked the
side door and climbed into the limo.  After she pulled out her little
black book with the ~Carpe Noctem~ engraving on the cover, Candice
told the driver to head for the nearest hotel.  She started x-ing off
the to-do list since she had nothing to do.

A nudging at her thigh made her jump a little.  The cat that she had
aquired, or rather had aquired her during the last war was attempting
to make himself comfortable on the seat beside her.

"Aw c'mere Embris."  Candice pulled the sleepy tan and orange Siamese
into her lap where he promptly settled himself and purred.  How he'd
managed to stay hidden on the train the entire way up was still a
mystery to Candice, but she was still glad to have the Temple Cat for
company.  She picked up her phone and dialed the last possible hotel
Stu could have booked her a room in.

"Hello, Radison reception desk, how may I help you?"

//Thank you Stuart..//, Candice blessed him and gave the reception
lady her name and in return she got conformation for one of the
suites.  She only hoped it had a jacuzzi bath -it was going to be one
hell of a War....


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


Kiss Me Not
by Scottie

Sunday, 7/28, 4 a.m.--Nick's loft

I must be dreaming. I must, I must. Otherwise why would I be hearing a
bad--really bad--nay *horrible*--imitation of KISS in my sleep? I
don't like KISS. I never liked KISS. Yeah, it must be a dream. Maybe
if I turn over it'll go away.

Nope.

Maybe it's a really loud car stereo, and the guy will blow his
speakers and go away.

Nope.

Or maybe it's Armageddon, and in a second or two we'll all be blown to
smithereens and I won't have to hear this any longer.

Nope.

Who--or what--is it, and why won't it go away? It may be music, but
it's definitely not Sting. I *like* Sting. Maybe if I think real hard,
I can turn it into Dream of the Blue Turtles.

Nope.

Still there. Louder every second. And now, in this horrible dream,
somebody's knocking at the front door. Maybe if I get up and start
towards the door, they'll go away.

Nope.

I open the front door, and have a cup of capuccino thrust into my
hands. Then pastry, then something called The Aquarian, and then a
postcard. I stick the postcard into the pocket of my pajamas. I let
the pastry fall, and very slowly squash it into the pavement. Then I
take the top off the drink and pour it on the delivery guy. And take
my lighter out of my other pocket, catch the edge of the Aquarian on
fire, and threaten to burn the guy's eyebrows off.

He takes off at a run, tripping over the power cord that's fueling the
musicians. Their amps go up in a flash of sparks and smoke.

The music stops. The musicians go away. The delivery guy is no longer
to be seen.

I put the lighter back in my pocket, take the postcard out, and read
the inscription. Jamie. The list-something or other. The one who has
had a bit of trouble deciding what faction she belongs to. Hm.

 I like postcards. I collect postcards. I decide the postcard is a
good thing.

And go back to the sleeping bag from hell and start snoring again.


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


Kiss me, Kate...
by Jamie M.R.

Time: Sunday, 7/28; morning, early; like, just before dawn.
Takes place immediately after the 42 War story posts that've dropped
as of 11:22 am Eastern Time.


It had been a long time, and she'd feared that she wouldn't be able to
find it, but there it was: her trusty little tub of Mehron Star White.
It had been so long, however, that the white substance within was
dried through, and she wondered whether she could get it to work...

A little hot water, a little patience, and presto! there it was.

Lovingly, she daubed the stuff onto a star-shaped makeup sponge,
remembering the long-ago days when she'd done this in the back seat of
a car, mixing it up with spit, and struggling to see her own
reflection in the rear-view mirror... ah, but those were the days when
she'd gotten paid for it.  Times were much different now...

It baffled her that there were people for whom whiteface Kabuki makeup
was not an essential part of existence.

Years since she'd crafted this particular configuration, but her
fingers still knew how -- and rapture! she still had half a tub of
metallic silver. This was a Good Thing.  This meant that she could be
the Space-Ace.

She glanced lovingly at the root source of her blissful joy, at the
little scrap of paper whose number she'd repeatedly checked and
rechecked against arena seating charts.  Logic dictated that there was
no way anyone could expect to walk into the box office and find a
ticket for a show that'd been sold out for months -- but not only had
she procured that ticket, against all odds, it was for a front-row
seat.

Blissful, joyful, thoroughly enraptured, she daubed white makeup on
her face, grinning like a happy idiot.

And a thought came to her.

Why not share this joy with her closest friends?

Thus it was that on Sunday morning, at the moment of sunrise at
whatever geographical location they were at at the moment, EVERY
SINGLE PERSON listed as having given a permission slip to participate
in the war received a visit by four KISS impersonators on a flat-bed
truck loaded with sound and pyrotechnic equipment; and at that precise
instant of dawn, each War-rior was awakened by the sweet strains of
loud, screaming, raucous heavy metal:

"I... wanna rock an' roll all night
an' party every day!"
(insert appropriate wailing of electric guitars)

Along with the portable rock concert, each participant in the War
received a small box of Italian pastries from Ferrara, a large cup of
cappuccino, a copy of the Aquarian Weekly and a postcard of the New
York City skyline at sunset, on which was written, "Good Morning!  :-)
Love, JamieMR".

And back in her room, the WebGoddess smiled, knowing that she had done
a Good Thing.  She had, after all, bestowed upon her fellow list
members (what she considered to be) some excellent music.  What better
way could there be to wake up in the morning?

She fully expected that each and every one of her friends would
appreciate the gift they had been given.

Humming happily, she put the finishing touches on her makeup and
headed off to the show.


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


Wake-up call
Sharon A. Himmanen
TIME:  Sunday, July 28th.  Early morning

"AGH!"  Sharon yelled, her tousled head emerging from under several
layers of sheets and blankets.  "What the..."

Outside, a din loud enough to wake the dead was ensuing.  Was someone
having a block party, she wondered as she staggered to her feet and
pulled on a robe.  Making her way over to the window she vaguely
thought about calling the police and complaining about the racket.

(She hadn't had her morning coffee yet, and as such had forgotten that
there was a war on).

Pulling the curtain aside she squinted out into the pale morning light
just as a red and white firework burst just outside the window.

"GAH!" she gasped involuntarily, stepping back away from the loud
noise and bright lights.  There was nothing pretty, bright or shiny
about any of this, she thought grimly as she made her way to the
window again and cautiously peeked out.   Another burst of fireworks
accompanied the snarl of guitars and through the smoke and haze Sharon
made out...well, she wasn't quite sure what.  She vaguely remembered
something years ago resembling this--a group of grown men in spandex
and heavy face makeup pranced about on a flatbed truck trying
desperately to hide behind the smoke of the fireworks.  What was the
name of the group these guys were prestending to be.  She remembered
seeing them on lunch boxes when she was a kid.

What was it?  SMOOCH?  No, she frowned.  That wasn't it.  She rubbed
her eyes.  Jamie liked this group, if she remembered.  What *was*
their name? PUCKER-UP?  LIPLOCK?

Then she had it.  KISS!  KISS?  Not the real KISS...  Well,
considering they seemed to have died out as a fad in the 80s it was
entirely possible they were now doing block parties from the back of
flatbed trucks.  This merited further investigation.

*****

She'd resorted to pulling the plug on their portable generator to get
the music to stop and wasn't at all surprised to hear a loud round of
applause issue forth from the houses and appartments up and down the
street.  It was then that she discovered that these guys barely knew
one end of the guitar from the other.

"So let me get this straight," she said attempting not to yawn and
trying not to think about the fact that she was standing in the middle
of the street in her robe talking to a guy with a big black star on
his face. "You're KISS impersonators."

"That's right," he nodded.

Sharon threw up her hands.  "Why are you here?"

"Oh, well, somebody named Jamie got a ticket to the KISS reunion
tour."

"Yeah?  And?  She was so overjoyed she decided to treat all her
friends to a little slice of KISS?"

"Yeah," he said, grinning.  "Exactly.  You want us to start playing
again?"

"No, no!" Sharon said, holding up her hands quickly.  Then she looked
at him thought fully for a moment.  "Do you guys do impersonations
other than KISS?"

"Us?  No.  We don't even look like them but they're easy to
impersonate with the wigs and makeup and all.  But we do work for a
pretty good company."

Sharon grinned as an idea began to take shape.  "I'll be right back,"
she said.

When she returned she was carrying an autographed picture of The
Nightcrawler.  "Do you think your company can find someone who looks
like this?" she asked, holding up the picture.

He studied it for a moment.  "Yeah, I think we can get something
pretty close."

"Good, I'll need him, and someone short dressed in an Elmo costume.
Here's what I want you to do..." she said, leading him to the side and
quietly outlining her plan.

He looked pretty disgusted for a moment.  "I can pay," Sharon said.

His face dissolved into a grin at that.  "Well, OK, then.  I'll call
you when everything's in place."

"Excellent," Sharon said.

And then realized she'd managed to pull all that together before
morning coffee which was nothing short of a miracle when she thought
about it. She'd have to remember to thank Jamie, but she somehow
doubted Jamie would appreciate the outcome of that.


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


Wake Me Not Into Temptation
By Gehirn Karies  (CerkJerk@aol.com)

Time: 7/28 Morning, early, too early.
Takes place after "Kiss Me, Kate..."

Kaires heard a buzzing and rolled over on the too soft hotel bed. She
was not in the mood for waking up with ringing ears again.  She could
have camped out at Cerk with the other Cousins, but she was far to
ornary in the morning to be near so many people.  Then she heard a
tapping on the door.  Throwing off the sheet she rambled to the door,
cracking it open.

A cute delivery man, about thirty two stood looking her up and down.
"Gehirn Karies?"

"Mmmmh," she mumbled returning the measuring glances.  Blinking
against the light and glaring at the Kiss impersonators banging wildly
at their instruments in the parking lot.  Well, at least her ears
weren't really ringing to the tune of some strange cultish pop music.

"Sign here, nice PJ's"

She looked down at her PJ's, grinned, signed the list on the clipboard
and he handed her a small box of Italian pastries from Ferrara, a
large cup of cappuccino, a copy of the Aquarian Weekly and a postcard
of the New York City skyline at sunset, on which was written, "Good
Morning!  :-)  Love, JamieMR".

"She's the warmest and fuzziest thang." Karies said, cradling the
cappuccino like the prize it was.  She pointed at the band.  "Isn't
there some kind of law against that?"

"That's your's too."

"How ... Retro, how horribly retro.  You deserve a nice tip. Do you
have many more deliveries?"

"You're the last."

She handed him the pastries.  "Very thoughtful of the Fuzzy One, I'm
sure they're yummy, although not exactly what I want for ...
breakfast."  He flashed back a sinister grin.  "I'll be right back."

Karies sauntered over to the band, actually quite good at what they
were doing.  "Guys!"  She yelled, making a time out signal with her
hands.  The woman playing the lead motioned for the band to cut. "This
has been ... alarming ... I mean, a great alarm ... I mean, awakening
... uh ... I'm awake now, you can go."

"We're not finished," said the lead.

"Yeah, yeah you are."  A crabby expression krept across her groggy
face.

"Nuh-uh, not yet."

She loomed as much as a 5'7" grown woman in Batman PJ's can. "Either
you're finished or you're gonna eat those guitars."

"Spoil sport!"

Grinning with the compliment Karies hurried back to the room, the
delivery man leaned on the door, munching on of the pastries.  She
opened the door and they entered the room, locking the door behind
them.  Spot rubbed his tail up against the delivery man, and Pugsley
dove under the bed, sending orange fur flying.  Guzzling down the
cappuccino and eyeing her visitor, nice soft but muscular body,
reddish blonde buzzcut and aimless stance, Karies said, "Jamie sends
the nicest deliveries, but she and I *have* to have a talk about
music."


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


Re: WAR: Kiss me, Kate...
by Storm

Milwaukee, Wisconsin
Dawn, 07/28/96

>Thus it was that on Sunday morning, at the moment of sunrise at
>whatever geographical location they were at at the moment, EVERY
>SINGLE PERSON listed as having given a permission slip to participate
>in the war received a visit by four KISS impersonators on a flat-bed
>truck loaded with sound and pyrotechnic equipment; and at that precise
>instant of dawn, each War-rior was awakened by the sweet strains of
>loud, screaming, raucous heavy metal:
>
>"I... wanna rock an' roll all night
>an' party every day!"
>(insert appropriate wailing of electric guitars)

Storm tried to sit up in bed, but was impeded by a grey mound of fur
(Tynan) draped over her shoulder, purring ecstatically -- but not
loudly enough to counter the sounds from outside her open window.

"Hello," she muttered to the Persian.  "Am I back in college?  Or have
the locals changed their taste in music *dramatically*?"

She picked up the cat and sat up in bed, leaning on the footboard to
see out the window.  Then she was on her feet, nose to the screen.
"Omigod.  KISS is doing a *street show*?  On Juneau Avenue?"

It's Summerfest in Milwaukee.  Party on the beach, where the water is
still too cold for all but the bravest to venture for more than a few
minutes. Craft fairs.  Concerts almost every night.  Local
neighborhood festivals, celebrating heritages of German, Irish,
Hispanic, Amerind, Polish and more. And lately, downtown Milwaukee's
main drag, Wisconsin Avenue, has been rocking to outdoors oldies
concerts throughout the lunch hour.

However, today is Sunday.  The time is Oh-Gawd-Awful.  And Storm's
house is over twenty blocks from the downtown stage.

"Someone has more money than sense," Storm muttered, trying not to
grin as Peter Criss (or a very good imitation) saluted her window with
a whirl of drumsticks.  "Oh, boy, I think I'd better get down there."

Tynan trotted down the stairs in front of her, looking back over his
shoulder like a small furry owl.  "I have *no* idea," she told him.
"But we'll find out."

She unlocked the door and stepped out on the porch to find:

>Along with the portable rock concert, each participant in the War
>received a small box of Italian pastries from Ferrara, a large cup of
>cappuccino, a copy of the Aquarian Weekly and a postcard of the New
>York City skyline at sunset, on which was written, "Good Morning!
>:-)  Love, JamieMR".

Storm sat down on the front steps, cup in hand.  Tynan checked out the
pastries with real interest, since he *is* a bread freak.  "Uh-uh,
buddy," Storm told him, pushing his non-existant nose out of the way. 
She sipped the coffee and looked at the postcard again.  "Gods, I
wanna go to New York. Jamie, you are out of your metal-soaked mind."

She took another sip of the cappuccino. "Man, good coffee."  She
picked up a pastry.  "Oh, gods, I'm *such* a pastry freak... Tynan,
*move* your little flat nose -- I'll give you some in a minute.  The
"Aquarian Weekly", huh? Haven't seen a copy of this in *ages*.  Too
cool.  Off the paper, already, cat.  Here, have a pastry...cheese,
even."

She looked up at the group on the truck, who were seguing into "Beth".
Peter Criss (or his *very* good lookalike) sat on the edge of the
flatbed, singing right at her.

"Geez.. .bet this is the only time in the world KISS has had *five*
members "on stage" at once," Storm muttered, leaning against the porch
column.  "But hey, Jamie did it.  Good stuff.  Good coffee.  Good
morning!"

>And back in her room, the WebGoddess smiled, knowing that she had
>done a Good Thing.  She had, after all, bestowed upon her fellow list
>members (what she considered to be) some excellent music.  What better
>way could there be to wake up in the morning?
>
>She fully expected that each and every one of her friends would
>appreciate the gift they had been given.
>
>Humming happily, she put the finishing touches on her makeup and
>headed off to the show.

Storm let the band do half a dozen songs, then decided she'd better
shut them down before someone complained -- as unlikely as it was in
this neighborhood.  Besides, there was always the possibility that her
roommates *might* wake up.  Unlikely; but possible.

Finally, the street was clear and quiet.  "I think I'd better go
downstairs and email a thank you to Jamie," she told Tynan.  The cat
looked up from his cheese danish and blinked wide amber eyes.  "Yeah,
I know.  What the heck is she thinking -- I never knew Jamie to have
*that* much money.  C'mon."

Tynan sat down and looked at her. "Okay, I'm bringing your pastry.
And mine.  Now let's go get online."

The computer groaned its way to life, then began the laborious process
of downloading and sorting.  "Man, I like Eudora, but I *wish* this
baby were faster."  Tynan sat beside her on the desk, contented
munching and purring. He looked up, poked his nose into the cappuccino
cup and sneezed.

"Oh, thank you *very* much."  She looked over the messages.  "Oh, man,
here we go..."  Jamie's note about the KISS concert explained just
about everything *except* the sudden influx of cash.  However, a post
from Sherrie did much to clear up the confusion.

To:     Storm <wabbit@execpc.com>
Date:  Sun, 28 Jul 1996 02:32:02 EST
From: Sherri C <sherric@EMPNET.COM>
Subject:  Looks like WAR

Storm --

Sorry you had to leave the party!

It's War, and we're all in Toronto.  You've got to get here -- I know
you've got a new job, and all that, but this is *IMPORTANT*.

You did get paid recently, didn't you?  We don't have the kind of war
chest some of the other factions do, but maybe Apache will let you
borrow her gold card.  Let us know fastest -- we need every Vaquera on
hand!

**********

"Oh happy day," Storm muttered, staring at the screen.  "They are
luckier than they deserve -- John decided to go take that two week
vacation in the boundry waters after all.  Hardly anyone will notice
if I take a vacation, too.  I hope.  Ah, hell, he may be the boss --
but I'm the one in charge."

She moved Tynan off the phone book and began checking.  Would
Greyhound be faster than Amtrak?  Would Amtrak break her?  No matter. 
Toronto called. It was high time she was more than just an electronic
"voice" online for the Vaqueros.

"I'm a Vaquera and I don't even know if the vampire I'm supporting is
alive or dead," she noted, reaching for the phone.  "Gods, I can't
believe I'm doing this...."


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


KISS Me in the Morning... Or Kiss My *Elbow*
Sunday Morning, at the faintest stroke of dawn (approx 4:30AM)
After Kiss Me, Kate, at the same time as all the other "Oh, no, KISS!"
posts <g>
Merc Central
By Elizabeth Ann Lewis

Dawn crept across the city gently, highlighting building, creating
lines and shadows where none were before.  The weary warriors, having
just made it to Toronto, were trying to catch up on rest.

Good luck.

Lizbet's first thought was that someone was killing a cat outside of
Merc Central.  At the first screech of heavy metal guitars, she fell
out of bed, promptly tangling herself in her covers and the long
Victorian cotton nightgown she was wearing.  Dragging the folds of
fabric behind her as she tried to untangle herself, she stumbled out
of her room and ran into Kira, having forgotten her glasses and not
having put her contacts in yet.

"What the *heck* is that!" Kira demanded.  Her brown hair was standing
on end, and in deference to the heat of summer she was wearing a
negligee.

Clamping her hands over her ears, Lizbet went to the window and looked
out. "It's a bunch of guys wearing too much make-up playing bad
music," she reported.

Another Merc made for the other window.  The two Mercs in the hallway
cleared out of the path. Berg's grumbling cleared up as soon as the
band outside was identified.  "Cool, KISS!"

Lizbet made a face, too young to have been involved in KISS-dom.
"Ugh."

Liz leaned on her doorjamb.  She peered around nearsightedly,
venturing slowly out into the hallway.  "Like my head wasn't hurting
enough already," she grumbled.  She took three steps into the hall and
tripped over the blankets Lizbet had left strewn on the floor.

Sonja stepped out of her room.  "What is that *noise*?" she demanded.

"Can't you tell?  It's KISS.  Or, at least, KISS imitators." Berg told
her.

Shaking her head, Sonja said, "I'm culturally deprived.  I have no
idea what KISS sounds like."

"Don't worry, neither do I," Lizbet told her.

Dawn blinked her way into the hall, rubbing sleep-grit from her eyes.
"Mfphogh?"  Her plaid housecoat covered shorts and a tshirt, and her
hair rioted over her head in a style that looked like it took an hour,
a touch of hairspray, and a wind tunnel to achieve.

"Should someone wake Dianne or Christina?" Sonja asked hesitantly.  "I
mean, since their rooms are soundproof, presumably they can't hear
it."

Berg turned away from the enjoyment of the music outside to stare at
her. "You do realize, that Christina would consider this grounds for
homicide, don't you?"

"Um, maybe not," Sonja agreed.

Lane came out of his room.  In his hand was his ninjato.  In his eyes
was the fixed, glassy stare of someone who had been roused from the
dead.  Bad combination.  Dawn backed away from him.  "Um, Lane?  What
were you planning on doing with that?"

He didn't bother to answer, merely headed for the stairs.  Kira and
Sonja dived after him, trying to restrain him.  With zombie-like
stubborness, he simply shook them off and headed out after the band.

Through the window, Berg and Lizbet watched as one of the guitarists
stopped playing and used his guitar to fight off the Merc.  "I've
never seen anyone use a guitar like a sword before," Lizbet commented.

An enraged scream sounded through the hallway.  The six Mercs in the
hall turned--and quailed.  The GHP burst out of her room.  Dressed in
baggy blue pajama bottoms (silk, of course) and a large, loose white
t-shirt, she didn't look like she had been roused from sleep.  But she
did look like she had been roused from--and by--something!

Dianne marched over the window (which Lizbet quickly vacated, not
wanting to be within striking distance) and stuck her red head
outside, shouting at the performers at the top of her extremely well-
trained lungs.

"I'm really, really glad I can't hear what she is saying," Kira said
feverantly, and the other Mercs agreed.

Except Liz, who was still untangling herself from the bedclothes. From
her vantage point and general inability to see so early in the
morning, the GHPs major feature was a pair of bright red fuzzy socks. 
She pointed them out to the other Mercs, who in their sleep-deprived
state found them hilarious and promptly started snickering.

The music outside shut off as though someone had thrown a switch.
Berg grumbled, glaring at Dianne, amazingly without fear of the
consequences. Satisfied, Dianne shut the window with a decisive bang,
then turned around to face her troops.  The other four Mercs were
desperately trying to muffle their laughter--and failing miserably.

Dianne took one glance at herself in the mirror--wrinkled shirt,
tangled hair and reddened eyes.  The fuzzy socks definitely did
nothing for her dignity.  Drawing herself up to full I-Am-Grand-
Poobah-Hear-Me-Roar stature, she fixed the garbling Mercs with a
steely gaze.  Head high, she marched into her room and slammed the
door.

A knock on the front door of Merc Central echoed the boom of Dianne's
door. The six Mercs in the hallway went downstairs.  "Coffee," Lizbet
mumbled. "If I can't have sleep I need coffee."

Kira pulled open the door a crack and asked, "What now?"

A messenger shoved a clipboard into her hand.  Kira signed and pulled
the door open more fully.  Outside on a small skiploader sat a score
of small boxes of Italian pastries from Ferrara, a vat of cappuccino,
a stack of Aquarian Weekly and 18 postcards of the NYC skyline at
sunset, on each of which was written, "Good Morning!  :-)  Love,
JamieMR".

Lane came back, snagged the vat, and disappeared upstairs.  No one
contested him.  None of them was dumb enough to argue with a man with
a sword.

The phone rang, and Sonja answered it.  "Lizbet, it's for you!"

"Who is it?"  Upon learning that it was one of her prospective
employers, Lizbet said, "Tell them I'll call back."

"Um, why keep them waiting?" Liz asked.

Lizbet grinned as she went into the kitchen and pulled out the makings
for a killer omelet.  "Mercenary Rule of Acquisition number 214:
Never begin a business negotiation on an empty stomach."


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


KISS from a Rose?
by Kristina Buhrman

July 28, 1996    just before daybreak
Toronto

House sitting, Kristina decided, was a very good gig. She'd have to
thank her mom again for finding the job for her. Especially in
Toronto: it had just been too long since she was last in town. And the
city had a university. A university with a library. That and a good
coffee shop was all she needed.

She sat in the kitchen of her mother's cousin's house surrounded by
Gargoyle action figures for some of her friends that she heard might
be in the area, and her books and notes on several languages and
dialects, most European, some not.

Over on another counter there was a local paper opened to the
announcement of the history of Brabant exhibit at the ROM. The
question was what to wear. It was going to be formal, so she probably
wouldn't be able to get away with just a skirt and the t-shirt with
the smiley face and the caption "Mean people suck". Nah, she'd
probably have to wear a jacket too.

Kristina looked out the window towards the east, paused for a minute,
and tried to figure out what she felt about the figure in the
graveyard last night: confused, scared, happy, scared, relieved,
scared, superstitious, scared, optimistic, scared, angry, scared,
wary, confused, scared, or frightened. She did a mental "eeny, meeny,
miny, mo" and decided on confused with a twist of optimistic wariness.

She made some more notes on post-its and stuck them over some pages in
classical Mongolian, kicking the table leg (thereby scaring the cat),
and singing a little under her breath.

"I... <thunk> don'... <thunk>
wanna biddy bunny in my widdle woo <thunk> boat
in my widdle <thunk> woo boat in da pond
Cuz... <thunk> da... <thunk>
bunny might be cwazy and <thunk> bide me in da fwoot <thunk>
in ma widdle woo boat <thunk> in da pond."

-Gee, who'da thunk that my sister could get that song in my head for
so long...- Kristina opened her mouth for the second verse.

> "I... wanna rock an' roll all night
> an' party every day!"
> (insert appropriate wailing of electric guitars)

-I'm pretty sure that didn't come from me...- Kristina thought and
followed the heavy metal outside, and almost knocked over a cappuccino
on the porch. She quickly picked it up to avoid any other near-
disasters of that sort. There was also a box of pastries and something
called the Aquarian Weekly, which she leafed through. A postcard
fluttered down from between the pages.

There were also some guys in spandex and leather on a flat bed truck,
playing instruments.

She patiently waited for the musicians to finish, their tongues
hanging in the wind, then she tilted her head to one side. "Hi!" she
said brightly. "And you are?"

The musicians just stood there. "I mean, I recognize the song; the
guys at the lunch table sing it all the time... hey! Can you guys do
'Blister in the Sun' too?" Not waiting for an answer, Kristina began
singing, "'Lemme go o-on like I blister in the sun, lemme go o-o-
on...'"

An errant explosion drew her attention to the title on the truck. "Oh.
KISS. Never heard of you before. Well, I've heard *of* you, just none
of the songs. Well, the one song, but I had no idea. I think it
predates me. So does Bach, and I can recognize Bach, but then again
Bach predates just about everyone, so we're all about equal there..."

One of the heavily made-up guys (hey, that's all of 'em...) spoke up.
"Actually, we're impersonators."

"Ah. Well, I'm sure you've done a very good job." Kristina toasted
them with the coffee, backing into the house. "I'm sure you'll excuse
me, but I gotta write a thank you letter for this. It's not that I
didn't like the music or anything like that. Really, you shouldn't
think that. Okay, luv ya, bye-bye!" she called out, closing the door
firmly behind her.


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


KISS em Goodbye

By Kevin Matsumoto
Nick & NatPackers

Time: Concurrent with all the other KISS posts.


Kevin almost jumped out of his skin as the raucous music began
playing. "What the hell is that!?"

"Hey Kevin, you still got those earmuffs?" Laura's voice shouted from
the other room. "I saw you wearing them when you did that barney
tape."

"Here," Kevin tossed Laura the heavy set of shooter's earmuffs.
"What's that racket?"

"KISS, or at least a set of KISS impersonators.  You've never heard
them before?" Laura began adjusting the earmuff's.

"Sure, But who's blasting it this early in the morning?"

"There's a group of KISS impersonators outside."

"What?" Kevin turned and out the door.

About a minute later, Mel came in with a slightly weird look on her
face. "Laura, Kevin's upstairs and he's unpacking a gun."

"Say that again?

"He pulled out a long black gun with a major silencer on it."

Just then Kevin returned with a truly ugly looking gun.

"What are you going to do with that?" Mel asked.

"Get rid of that noise." Kevin replied as he headed for a window.

"Oh no you don't" Judy said as she grabbed the gun.

"Hey! Leggo" The two struggled with the gun until one of them pulled
the trigger.

A soft twhipp was heard as a large red stain appeared on the ceiling.

"What kind of gun is that?" Laura asked as she looked at the ceiling.

"A paintball gun, for playing TAG." Kevin explained as he jerked the
gun free and opened the window.

The was a steady racheting sound as Kevin pointed the gun and held
down the trigger.  After several seconds he released the trigger.
Running down the street, the KISS impersonators looked like a bad 60's
psychedelic poster.  Smiling to himself, Kevin closed the window and
headed back to his duffel bag.

"Not so fast," Susan stopped him.

"What?"

She pointed to the ceiling. "Clean it up."

Sighing Kevin walked the kitchen and picked up some paper towels. "I
would use oil based paints."

Susan decided to recconoiter the outside of the house.  She wanted to
be sure that it hadn't just been a diversion.  As she opened the door
she saw a delivery man plastered against a wall.

"Is the shooting over?" He asked.

"Yes," Susan replied.

"These are for you." He handed her box of chocolates and what looked a
magazine and a postcard.

"People." She turned around. "This was Jamie's idea of a gift."

"If it had only been an Elton John impersonator singing Can you feel
the love tonight." Kelly sighed.


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


Cousin Willow gets KISSed
by Cousin Tok
CERK
concurrent with all the other KISS wake-up call posts (Sunday morning,
early)

Tok opened one eye, stared at the clock, and then started cussing in
every language she knew.  Not only was it God-awful early, it was
*Sunday*.  When she'd run out of languages, she started making it up. 
Eventually, she dragged herself over to the window.

"Double take" does not adequately describe Tok's reaction to the sight
below her.  Is it possible to do a quintuple-take?  She started
cussing again.

"You're repeating yourself," observed a nearby Cousin.  Most of them
were awake now, some holding their hands firmly over their ears and
some enjoying the music.  At least, they were until they saw Tok's
expression.

"What's going on out there?" someone asked.

"There's a flatbed truck outside carrying a rock band that looks like
KISS," Tok  explained, calmly and reasonably, she thought.  Quite well
for someone who wakes up only slightly less cranky than Divia.  She
wouldn't want a perssonal live concert from Garth Brooks at this hour,
let alone KISS.

As several Cousins rushed to the window to see for themselves, Tok
sighed and shrugged.  It could have been worse -- at least it wasn't a
bunch of Steve Miller Band impersonators playing "Fly Like an Eagle". 
Someone would have been seriously hurt (if this weren't a family
list).

Just then, the doorbell rang.  Tok and the others rushed downstairs.
Tok reached the door first and opened it to be confronted by a
delivery person with several large boxes labeled "Ferrara -- fine
pastries", a large tub of what smelled like cappuccino, a stack of
Aquarian Weekly's, and a similar stack of postcards featuring the NYC
skyline at sunset.  Tok signed for the delivery and snatched one of
the postcards before the entire stash disappeared inside.

"Good Morning!  :-)  Love, JamiMR"

<<I *hate* perkiness in the morning,>> thought Cousin Tok.  <<Even if
it's by remote.>>
                                 * * *
Cousin Willow peeked out the door from between Mom's legs.  That truck
out there looked interesting, and in her young lifetime she'd never
seen *anything* like the men on top of it.  She decided to go check it
all out. A kitten's gotta do what a kitten's gotta do.
                                 * * *
Before Tok could shut the door and go back to pretending the KISS
impersonators weren't there, a gray streak bolted through the opening.
"Willow!  Come back here this instant!"  Tok ran after her, leaving
the other Cousins gaping in amazement and amusement.

Willow darted toward the musicians.  Defying the laws of gravity as
only a kitten could, she leapt to the platform and started purring at
the men.  The sight of the shrieking Cousin Tok running at them caused
the concert to come to an abrupt halt; for a moment, the only sound
was purring.

As Tok explained to the men just *why* continuing the concert was a
really bad idea, the purring became muffled.  Tok looked around,
trying to spot Willow.  "Did anyone see where my kitten got to?"

"I think she's in there," one of them said, pointing at the large box
sitting behind them on the truck.

"What's in there?" Tok asked.

"Our make-up, spare costumes, that kind of thing."

"Willow, come on, kitten, let's get out of here," said Tok, whispering
sweetly as she looked into the box.  Ah...there was a flash of gray
fur. "Come on, Willow -- come to Mama."  Clattering arose from the
box. "WILLOW!!"  Much to the consternation of the band and the vast
amusement of her fellow Cousins, Tok dove into the box after the
errant feline.  For a moment, there was only a loud clatter-crunch-
squish (squish?) from the box, and then silence.

Tok emerged holding the purring Cousin Willow.  Both were covered with
splotches of white greasepaint.  Tok *glared* at the band, who
suddenly remembered another engagement and sped away as soon as the
two Cousins got down.

Tok got Willow back inside CERK, choosing to ignore the giggles and
outright guffaws and belly laughs from her friends.  She glared at
Willow as she hunted for the basement stairs.  "I should let you stay
this way for awhile, but I'll catch hell from LaCroix if I let you get
greasepaint on anything. Now where do you suppose I can find a bucket
big enough to wash a kitten in?"  Basements always had stuff like
that.  <<I really must remember to thank Jamie properly for her lovely
wake-up call.>>


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


KISS wake-up call
Tina Cooling (aka Bast)

Time: concurrent with all the KISS posts
University of Illinois, Urbana-Champaign

Tina was sleeping peacefully in her dorm room, her blanket over her
head trying to block out the light that the pitifully inexpensive
curtains the University of Illinois had provided let in.  It wasn't
succeeding, and she was half awake, trying, and slowly succeeding in
getting back to sleep, when she heard...it.  Blaring music, screaming
from somewhere five stories down.  Standing groggily, she tottered to
the window and pulled the curtains open, wincing at the onslaught of
light.  'That'll teach me to stay up until six in the morning on e-
mail!  SKL generates *far* too much mail!' she thought.

Tina blinked, unknowingly doing an imitation of a certain (not quite
so at the moment) long-haired vampire.   She peered down, not quite
believing what she saw.

"That's KISS!" she yelled.  Wait.  Maybe not.  She reached for her
glasses and put them on.  "Ok, they're impersonators, and they're
screaming my name and waving at me.  Why are they doing that?"

Suddenly, there came a knock at her door.  "Uh-oh," she said, opening
it to see a deliveryman.  She wasn't worried about him.  Behind the
delivery man was a *very* upset Resident Director.

"Miss Cooling," he said stuffily.  "It has come to
our...attention...that this disturbance was somehow caused by you.  It
must stop."

"What?  I can't stop it.  I didn't hire them."

"Look," said the guy in the uniform rather quickly.  "I just have to
deliver this stuff to you, then can I leave?"  He hated seeing people
get in trouble.  Handing Tina a bag, he had her sign for it, and ran
off before the daggers the RD was glaring into his back actually did
kill him.

Tina walked into her room and sat down on the bed, examining the
contents of the bag.  "Hmmm...Ferrara pastries, cappuccino, a
postcard...and Aquarian Weekly!  Cool!  Someone has great taste!"
Turning the postcard over, she saw "Good Morning!  :-)  JamieMR" on
the back.  "Hah, Jamie, I should have known!"  Tina grinned, sipping
the cappuccino, listening to the KISS impersonators, ignoring the
complaints of her neighbors and the write-up slips that began to pile
up beneath her door.  If they didn't have any taste, well, that was
their problem.


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


Early Morning Coffee and A KISS
Sunday 7/28, 5:00 am
Partly and the Perks

Partly rolled over in the large, soft bed and stared at the closed
curtains of the hotel room.  Stupid idea, closing the curtains.  How
could the morning sun shine in?  A room facing the east should let the
sunrise in, she believed.  There was movement in the other bed in the
room, and Partly sighed.  Robin was a Perkulator, but she didn't share
the same view of mornings as Partly did.  Oh, well.  She'd just have
to go down and get some sunshine in the hotel restaurant.  Partly
quickly dressed and grabbed her PowerBook on the way out of her room.

The Four Seasons hotel certainly lived up to it's reputation as the
best in Toronto and the suite they were in was be best Partly had ever
been in (although that's not saying much, the only time she ever had
money was when she was in a war).  The suite consisted of two
adjoining rooms, both with their own bath, and one, the one she took,
had a hot tub.  The four bed's were all king size and very plush, and
the paintings on the wall had the matting, frame and glass of original
art.  The bedrooms opened out into a large sitting room with a bar,
sitting area with fireplace and large screen TV, and balcony with
seats.  The bedrooms also had balconies, and being on the top floor
gave one a beautiful view of Toronto.

Partly tiptoed through the outer room, being careful not to wake
Frederic. As the only male in the group, he had gallantly offered to
sleep on the sofa, giving the four women the beds.  Not being a fool,
Partly accepted his gesture.  She did, however, give him her spare
silver coin from Lake of the Torches casino, the twin to her lucky
one.  Frederic thought it was a good trade.

She slipped into the elevator, noting that it was card-keyed from the
hours of 9 to 9.  She pushed ground floor, and watched the numbers
count down to G, a process she always found amusing.  It was good that
no one learned to count from elevators.  The doors opened and Partly
followed the aroma to coffee.

Seated at a table in the sunshine, she flipped on her computer, stared
at the almost empty tables and smiled.  At five, it was early, even
for her. But the quietness was nice and she need time to think.
Yesterday's events needed sorting out, and for that she needed coffee.
The waiter brought her a cup and left the pot at her request.  He
noted her order on a tab and left.  In addition to the room, they had
won complimentary breakfasts and had been given a fully stocked bar.
Winning the raffle had been one of the better things that happened.
As for Tracy...

Tracy had to be dead.  Too many people had seen her die.  So that
meant she had seen a look-alike, a ghost, or just a figment of her
overactive imagination.   The computer's desktop flashed at her and
Partly signed onto AOL, checking her mail.  Jennie still hadn't
answered her e-mail, making Partly think that the Pack was up to
something (not a  surprise).  The you've got mail tone sounded and a
new message appear.  It was from GoodCopT.

TO:  PartlyK
FROM: GoodCopT
DATE:  7/28
MESSAGE:  Thanks for the flowers.  Feeling guilty?

Partly swore under her breath.  What is going on?

"Such language in a public place,"  Robin's voice behind her made
Partly jump.  "I though you gave that language up when you had
children."

The rest of the Perks followed the redhead to the table.  Partly spun
the computer so they could read the message.  "This is too weird."

Frederic nodded his agreement and sat down, pouring everyone some
coffee. "You think it's her?"

"How can it be?  It could be someone impersonating her..."  Partly
suddenly stopped and looked at them.  "What are you all doing up?
Couldn't sleep, either?"

Courtney grimaced.  "It's very hard to sleep when someone forgets to
turn off her alarm."  She stared pointedly at Partly.

"Country music at 5:30 is almost intolerable," Robin added.  The rest
of the Perks nodded.  "Especially that loud."

"Sorry," Partly apologized.

They sat in silence for a while, then Lynne spoke.  "If it's not her,
then who?  And why?"

"War?"  They had all been thinking it.

Partly shrugged.  "I don't even know if one's going on."

Almost immediately there was a jarring cord on a very loud electric
guitar. A drum beat followed.  Four large men in black leather and
face paint pushed their way into the restaurant and began playing.

"I... wanna rock an' roll all night an' party every day!"
(insert appropriate wailing of electric guitars)

The band played until a panicked waiter managed to pull the plug on
them. In the few minutes that it took the Perks ears to stop ringing,
the largest, hairiest band member dropped off a package on the table,
then they left.

Partly grabbed the postcard of the New York City skyline at sunset,
while the others  went though the gifts.  They included:  a small box
of Italian pastries from Ferrara, a large cup of cappuccino, a copy of
the Aquarian Weekly.  Partly read the scrawl on the back of the card: 
"Good Morning! :-)  Love, JamieMR".

"I think was can assume this is war."  Frederic said.

Partly nodded, and the waiter walked back over to them.  "Was that
KISS?" He asked.

Partly shook her head.  "I doubt it."  She looked at everyone and
smiled. "Everyone knows that you never KISS with morning breath."


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


Pig's Blood and one Angry Vaquero
Location: The Old Church
Time: 6 am. July 28th
By: Torrey Harris
-------------------------------------------------------
"Pig Blood?!?" Torrey yelled, looking at the offending bottle in her
hand. "I paid for human blood! That's it!" Digging around in the pile
of bags still on the floor, Torrey frantically searched for the Cell
phone and phone book. Finding them, she sat down and dialed the phone
number.

"Hello, Merc Central." The voice sweetly answered on the other end.

"Hello, can I speak to Mel, please." Torrey replied, just as sweetly,
grinding her teeth.

"One moment, please."

"Hello?" a sleepy voice answered.

"Hi Mel, this is Torrey." Torrey responded sweetly.

"Ummm, Hi Torrey. How are things?" Mel answered with a trace of worry
in her voice. There was a sound of a bottle of Tums being opened in
the background.

At that Torrey's voice dropped to a low dangerous growl. "Now you
listen to me...I *know* what you did last night. You have until this
afternoon to get the real blood to me or I will report you and have
your head. Do I make my self clear? Or, I could just tell Vachon *who*
was responsible for the pig blood."

"Yes! No! Uh, You don't understand...."  Squeaked the voice on the
other end. "You see I ran into some problems.." There was the sound of
multiple tablets of Tums being violently chewed on.

Torrey cut her off. "I don't want to hear it! You have until this
afternoon...make it happen!" With that Torrey slammed the phone down.


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


HEAVEN'S ON FIRE
6:06 AM Sunday, July 28, 1996
The Old Church

by Nancy W. (Vaquera)


Apache and Torrey had gone off somewhere with Vachon. Alone. This left
the remaining Vaqueras wanting to know exactly *who* had decided that
*they* should have that particular privilege.

Debate ensued and it wasn't pretty.

Tempers flared, names were called. Undignified references to both
animals and ancestry were made. Snide remarks about Apache's Gold Card
entered the conversation. Jay, Cindy, Debra and Crystal were quick to
remind everyone just who had done most of the work of digging up their
favorite vampire. Sherri mockingly reminded everyone of Torrey's Salt
Circle. Pat and Nancy muttered threats to find the Inca and form their
own faction.

Yes, there was discord in the ranks. The Green-eyed Monster had
struck, and this time, its name was not Vachon.

"Well, it's not like Vachon really belongs to any of us. He is his own
vampire, after all."  Jenn, The Occasionally Responsible Vaquera,
spoke up, responsibly.

Everyone agreed she had a point, and soon thereafter it was decided
that a hungry, dirty, crabby, probably dangerous <and a few mutterings
of the word 'ungrateful' were heard> vampire was, in the long run, too
much like a Responsibility.

The herd cringed collectively at the dreaded "R" word.

Still, as the sun showed its face over the eastern horizon, appearing
very much like it does on the opening credits and causing everyone
pangs of nostalgia, mirth did not reign amidst the Vaqueras.

And then they heard it.

At first, some thought they were only imagining that glorious and
heavenly anthem, that heavy-metal hymn to the God of Spandex and Big
Hair.

But the poignant, moving words were unmistakable:

"I wanna rock and roll all night/And party every day..."

They flocked en masse to a shattered window and beheld the source of
this enchanting reverberation. There, on a flatbed truck outside the
church, was KISS!

Nancy muttered, "I am not worthy," and fainted.

Pat revived her with a kick to the ribs. "They're fakes, moron."

This, alas was true. The band was bogus. But the music was real. This
was especially heartening to Nancy, who had opened the case of the
only CD she had brought to Toronto (Guns N' Roses' "Appetite for
Destruction", which she had considered appropriate background music
for a war) to discover that somehow Axl Rose & Co. had been replaced
with Corel.Draw Version 3.0.

Of course, any kind of rock music stirred the heart of a True Vaquera,
but there was something special about the kind of rock music performed
by musicians with lots of hair and tight pants who did other
interesting things with their guitars besides play them...

One by one, Vaqueras began to move in time with the music.

In no time, the formerly dour group had been transformed into a
headbanging, slam-dancing, moshing mass of joyous abandon. Sarah, Gay,
Ann, Charlyne, Debra, Jill and Sarah whipped their long hair in unison
in a formidable cascade of follicular frenzy. Lisa-Marie and Shannon's
waist-length tresses and Nancy's braids became lethal weapons.

(Shortly thereafter, the pastries arrived, much to the delight of the
more experienced rockers who knew the importance of stoking up on
carbos before going into the moshpit... Some would have preferred a
beverage somewhat less pretentious than cappucino, but hey, they were
Vaqueras - they made do with what they had.)

The appropriateness of "Creatures of the Night" brought cheers of joy
from the herd. "I Love it Loud" sent them into a blissful delirium.
Some were moved to dedicate "I Was Made For Loving You" to Vachon (and
the lesser-known "Parasite" to Apache and Torrey...). Only the more
conservative in the group questioned the taste of participating in a
sing-along to "Unholy" in a church. All were moved to tears by "God
Gave Rock and Roll to You," during which hands were joined and
camaraderie was shared.

Later, they would learn that it was intended as a wake-up call.
Someone thought Vaqueras would actually be *getting up* at that hour?!
AS IF!!!

But it was the thought that counted.  It was agreed that, once he
could be safely approached, Vachon would be asked for a lock of his
precious hair, which would be sent to Jamie as a token of appreciation
for her most thoughtful and generous gift.

As the band pulled away to the waves and cheers of the Vaquera's,
Jerimi's voice emerged with a question.

"Hey, where's Bonnie?"


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


Seek, Locate, Destroy (2/2)
By Cynthia Hoffman, with input from Raven Jane and Vaquera Bonnie
July 28, 1996
6:30 a.m.
The Raven, after the arrival of the KISS impersonators, before Chain
of Thought 2

It was finally quiet.  Blessedly, peacefully quiet.  No one demanding
her time, no one asking her questions she had to pretend to know the
answers to, no one banging on walls, knocking down runways and ramps,
destroying stages ... although she did have to admit watching that
runway come down once again, this time to be totally destroyed and
then gleefully burned in the back alley had been a pleasure she was
glad she hadn't missed.  Still, the quiet was a gift she wished to
savour for as long as she could.

Cynthia sat at the bar, on the one bar stool that still cooperated in
holding human weight, and inhaled the steam coming from her large mug
of Peet's Coffee (tm), the look of sheer bliss on her face making it
clear once again why she never traveled anywhere without it.  This was
her third cup and the cobwebs left by no sleep, a debate with a
potential songbird about working at the Raven and a visitation by
white faced KISS impersonators had left her feeling less than warm and
fuzzy.  She hated mornings enough as it was, although of course this
morning had the distinct advantage of being one she was awake for, as
opposed to one she had been awakened to see.  Remembering her friend
Shael's admonition always to remember to be grateful for the little
things, Cynthia sighed, grabbed the coffee thermos and settled in to
make sure she'd covered all bases.

She began by carefully reviewing her notes from the last evening's mad
phone calls.  The painters were in at 7:30 a.m. to do the walls,
followed by the woodworkers at 10 to handle the floors and the bar
paneling as well as the new stage. At around one she was expecting a
delivery of glassware, two new beer refrigerators, a large supply of
liquor and other drinkables for the human bar along with furniture
that didn't split apart when you looked at it wrong.  She glanced down
at her bar stool, unwilling to tempt fate but remembering the number
of times she'd landed on her butt in the preceding hours because the
stool decided not to hold her weight any longer. Jessica seemed to be
the only person not having that problem ... but then she only weighed
45 pounds.

Cynthia ran her hands through her hair, sending it into wild disarray,
well wilder disarray, and tried to figure out what she was missing.
Walls, floors, bar, liquor, alternative liquids, refrigeration,
furniture... oh damn.  Music required a sound-system that both Lorelei
and Chris had assured her was no longer in existence any where in the
club.  Bonnie had given her some information on her requirements.
Where had she put those notes?  Grabbing Lorelei's cell phone,
ignoring the time of morning, Cynthia began to call electronics supply
houses and proceeded to order microphones, speakers, tweeters,
blasters and generators that she had been assured would do the trick. 
She'd send Chris out later to buy stereo equipment and enough CDs to
keep everyone happy when there wasn't live music.

The last thing on her list was the rather dicey question of stocking
the *vampire* bar.  She really wasn't up to handling that one on her
own on no sleep, and was about to start whining to no one in
particular about it when a very sleepy looking Jane emerged from the
back room, looking lost and alone and totally disshevelled.

"What happened?  I thought you were coming to bed hours ago, after
those idiots with the loud music left."  Jane yawned widely.  "I
waited and waited, but you never showed up."

Cynthia waved the cell phone at her notepad and glared at Jane.  This
was the last thing she needed after a night of no sleep.

Confusion filled Jane's eyes for a moment -- what had she done to get
Cyn so angry -- then comprehension dawned.  One of these days, she'd
learn to put her brain into gear before speaking.  "Too much to do,
huh?"

"I have no idea how I get myself into these things.  I mean I never
actually said "yes" this time, did I?"

"You forgot to say no."  Jane covered her mouth as another yawn worked
its way out.  She wandered over and they stood quietly for a few
moments with their arms around each other, Jane's head resting on
Cynthia's shoulder.

"How are your shoulders and neck?"

"A bit stiff."  Cynthia admitted.

"Want a quick neck rub?"

"Mmm... please."

Jane moved around so she was behind Cynthia, pushed her hair forward
and began massaging her neck and shoulders.  Experienced fingers found
the tight spots and worked them until the tension eased and muscles
began to feel softer and less like bone.

"Feel better? Mmmph."  Whatever Jane was going to say got lost in
another huge yawn.

"Much."  Cynthia swung around and faced Jane.  "You should get some
sleep. You won't be much use later if you don't.  I really need
Miklos, you know. He'd know where to get blood for the vampire bar,
wouldn't he?"

But Jane was already gone to bed.  Leaving Cynthia alone once again
with the task of finding blood for the bar and a cleanup crew that
could be trusted to arrive before 4:00 p.m. and be out of there by 7
at the latest so they could put the finishing touches on the bar
before opening.

Grabbing the yellow pages and the cell phone, Cynthia punched in
numbers.

"Spic-N-Span Cleaning Service? I'm calling from the Raven on Richmond
Street.  We have a need for your services, *today*, this afternoon in
fact.  I don't care what it will cost me.  Just get me a crew here by
3:00."


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


The Vaqueras/os Get Wired!
by Charlyne L. Walker

July 28, 1996 starting at 7 am
At the church.

Charlyne woke up very early the morning after Vachon returned to the
living. She normally got up by 7:00 am anyway and today was definitely
not a day to sleep in. A few hours of sleep to clear the brain and she
was ready to start getting the computer room set up.  The first order
of business was to find an electric source. Then, when the computers
she had shipped from home arrived, they could be setup right away.
Good thing the computer store that her friend runs is being renovated
for the next few weeks. Of course, it didn't hurt that she had some
*interesting* photos from the last Christmas party. Getting the
machines the Vaquera's needed was no problem at all.

Charlyne grabbed a bagel from the food stash on her way outside to
check out the wires near the church and see if any led into the
church. On her way out of the door, she noticed that Jay was awake as
well. "Jay, would you like to give me a hand chasing down some wires?"

"Sure, lead the way," he replied as he scavenged for his own
breakfast.

Once outside, they noticed that there was a set of electric wires
leading into the basement of the church. It also looked like there was
a phone wire as well. "I guess this means that we will have to go into
the basement," Charlyne said more matter-of-factly than she felt.
//Just what I always wanted to do, find out what a vampire keeps in
his basement. Boy am I glad to have someone else to come along with
me.//

Jay and Charlyne returned to the inside the church. Charlyne picked up
the two large flashlights she had packed with her luggage. //Once a
Girl Scout, always a Girl Scout// she thought to herself. They located
the door to basement. Jay gallantly offered to lead the way. They both
clicked on their flash lights and began to descend into the basement.
The box was near the stair landing so they didn't have to explore too
far, a fact both were profoundly grateful for. Charlyne looked over
the box. "It looks like everything is in pretty good shape. All we
should need is to have the electricity to be turned on."

As they made their way back upstairs Charlyne said, "On to Phase 2. We
need to find a room that is wired for electricity. Can you check out
the rooms while I use the pay phone to setup the electric, phone and
Internet service?"

Jay began looking through the rooms in the church to find one suitable
for the computer bank while Charlyne went to call in a few favors.

<7:30 am at Pay phone, down the block from the Church>

"Hi, may I speak with Dale?" Charlyne waited while Dale was summoned
to the phone.  "Hey Dale, it's Charlyne. I'm in Toronto. Remember you
said next time I was in town to look you up? Well, I need a favor, a
few favors actually." Charlyne began to list the things she needed. "I
need to have phone and electric service connected at this address...I
also need to have our Internet connection established immediately. Oh,
and bill it to the advertising/promotional account." Charlyne listened
the other end of the conversation for a minute and a frown began to
form on her face.

"What do you mean you can't get the service connected until tomorrow
at the earliest! Do you really want to see the pictures of your last
birthday party on my web page?"

Another pause while Dale considered his options. "Good. I thought you
would see things my way. Today by 10:00 am would be fine. The phone
number will be 555-1531. Thanks buddy, I appreciate it."

Charlyne made her way back to the church. //The computer shipment
should be here by the time the electricity and phones were ready.//
she thought as she walked back.

<back at the Church>

Jay met Charlyne at the door. "I found the perfect room. It looks like
it might have been the pastors study and there seem to be several
electric outlets in the wall. I think it would do quite nicely if we
could find some tables to setup the computers on."

"Not to worry, I included some tables with the computers."

Jay and Charlyne cleaned out the newly dubbed computer room while they
waited for the computers to arrive and the service to be connected.
Charlyne pulled out a phone from her luggage and connected it to the
extension in the computer room. She also setup her laptop and
connected the modem.

<9:00, computer room at the Church>

Charlyne picked the phone up to see if it had been activated. She was
pleasantly surprised to hear the phone line active. As she dialed into
her ISP, she thought with a smile //Sure is nice to have to know
someone who has something to hide.// As soon as the connection was
established, Charlyne's first priority was to check on the progress of
the computers. //Hm...they should be here within the next half hour.//

Charlyne went out to let the Vaquera/os in the church know that their
computers would be here soon. As she finished telling everyone the
news about the restoration of the electricity and telephone, the
delivery truck arrived. She drafted a few volunteers to unload and
setup the machines. It was going to be a nice setup when they
finished!


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


Laura Gets Some Bad News
By: Laura Ruggiero (Die-Hard)
Date & Time: Sunday July 28, about 8 am
Place: Die-Hard HQ

Laura was checking her e-mail. She hadn't gotten much sleep last
night, but that didn't matter, this was war, and it was fun. *What's
this, a message from mythesischair?  From Friday?  it took 2 days to
get to me!!!!  SIU had better stop messing up the mail system...., *
Laura thought as she opened the message.

--------------------
Date: Fri, 26 Jul 1996 09:04:09 -0500
From: MyThesisChair (thesischair@siu.edu)
To: larug@siu.edu
Subject: **** BB is going to Kenya, the deadline is near ****
Status:

Laura-
Two important items concerning your thesis. I just found out that BB
is heading of to Kenya for some unknown amount of time.  She leaves
Tuesday.  You need to get at least a partial draft to her by then.

Also, you have not been given an extension yet.  In order to get one
you must have a  very good draft of your thesis done by the end of
Summer Session.  I know you've been working on it, so it shouldn't be
a problem. Get those draft chapters to me as soon as you can.

Remember though, you can't send large files to me through e-mail, or
you'll crash my computer.  I would prefer printed copies anyway.  We
should meet on Monday to go over what you have written, and what you
should give to BB.

Get back to me as soon as you can.

mythesischair
-----------------------------
Laura's face paled to an almost vampiric shade as she read this. "Oh
s**t, I can't believe this is happening.  BB couldn't have told me
something herself, long ago?  How am I going get even a partial draft
done by the end of summer session?"  Laura's voice was taking on a
near hysterical quality.  Then she became too calm, "This is not good.
I've got to go home.  Now."

She quickly informed the Die-hards what had happened and that she had
to go home and to temporarily withdraw from the war.  "I'll be back
though, as soon as I can, maybe even by August 2nd or 3rd.  Until
then, I'm sure Ron will be able to handle things here.  If you really
need me, I'm only an e-mail away."

With that she quickly packed, and headed back to Carbondale, IL.


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


Twisting in the Wind
Time:  Sunday, July 28, 8am
Place: Felix Twist's Office
Author: Lana G. Soward

Lana sat across from Felix Twist, steadily reading and signing papers.

"Who'd ever have thought there'd be so much bloody paperwork," she
grumbled, as she struggled to focus on the words.  She still hadn't
been to bed and the lack of sleep was having it's effect on her
concentration.  It didn't help, when the phone on his desk rang.

Felix quickly picked it up and became involved in arguing with the
person on the other end of the line.  Lana ignored them, until her
attention was grabbed by one word.  "Nicholas."

"... Nicholas.  I can't help you without them," Felix said.  "If you
can't find it, then we'll have to contact Larry Merlin for help.  And
you know what happened last time we did that."  Felix listened some
more.  "Well, that's hardly my fault.   You should have hid it in a
place you'd remember."

Felix hung up the phone and wandered over to his ivy plants, muttering
about people who couldn't remember their account and access numbers.

Lana finished signing the papers.  She eyed Felix thoughtfully for a
moment and then after taking a draught of Diet Coke, casually asked,
"How's Nick?"

"Oh he's fine," answered Felix absently, lost in pruning his ivy.
"It's just that he..."  He stopped and turned.  "You were
listening..."

"You weren't exactly whispering," retorted Lana.  "So where is he?"

"I don't know," stated Felix.  At Lana's raised eyebrow, he added,
"Truly I do not.  The last I heard he was masquerading as an out of
work actor in Santa Barbara."

"Santa Barbara?"  Lana asked in surprise.  "As in *sunny* California,
Santa Barbara?"

"Sunny California, " echoed Felix.  "That was the *last* I'd heard.
He didn't even take his Cadillac.  He mentioned blowing it up, at one
point, but one night he saw a Nissan Multi explode and he didn't have
the heart to do it."

"Oh puleaze," said Lana.  She rolled her eyes at Nick's attachment to
his car.  "So he's definitely not in Toronto?"

Felix shrugged.  "Not as far as I know.  He could be anywhere, as
anything. A defrocked priest, a small town sheriff.  Why?"

"Just curious," she said.  That's one down, she thought.  And many to
go.

She pushed the papers across the desk.

"Are we finished?" she asked.

"We're finished for now."

"Great.  I got ta get some sleep."

Lana slowly stood up to keep the room from rocking.  Carefully, she
made her way to the door, hoping that she'd last long enough to make a
pit stop at the hospital before she went back to the apartment.
Otherwise, she might just fall asleep on the tube.


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


Tune Your Instrument
by: Cousin Candice
time: 8:15 Sunday morning 7/28

Candice had slept only three and a half hours, and yet she was up and
about her hotel room as though she had slept the whole night through. 
//Might as well get used to thes vampiric hours...// She was just
unpacking the last of her clothing when there was a discreet knock at
her door.

"Yes?  Come in.."  She tied her robe and started towel-drying her hair
as she walked to the door.  The bellhop walked into the carpeted foyer
of the suite.  To his immediate right was a table where he set his
tray.  He took out a pad where he'd apparently written a note.

"Uh, Miss Cardasis?"  The man looked slightly confused, clearly he was
expecting to see an older woman, not the 20-something half-dressed one
before him.

"Yes, that's me.  What can I do for you?"  Candice looked at the
silver tray and began to wonder -the was just the Radisson, not the
Ritz...

"Well, I...umm.." he was so flushed and uncomfortable by this point
that he was blushing, "Look, there's some guys in spandex and big hair
down in the lobby and they say that they can't leave until they see
you."

Candice frowned and walked past the bellhop, noticing his nametag -
Chip, and looked at what was on the tray -a small box of Italian
pastries from Ferrara, a large cup of cappuccino, a copy of the
Aquarian Weekly and a postcard of the New York City skyline at sunset.

"Oh yeah!" Chip recovered, "That came with the guys in spandex, too."

Candice turned the cheesy postcard over on which was written, "Good
Morning!  :-)  Love, JamieMR".

Candice dropped the postcard like it was some burning substance that
singed her fingers.  She picked up the cappuccino and started sipping
at it absently, wondering how on earth Jamie Melody Randell knew she
was staying at the Radisson.  She hadn't even told Lisa McDavid or Tok
where she was staying!

"Oh bloody hell...it *is* war time...anyone could know anything."
Candice walked into her rooms forgetting Chip behind her.  Chip chased
after her and averted his eyes before he saw her drop her robe and
towel outside the bathroom.

"Uhh..Miss Cardasis?"  Chip edged towards the bathroom, "what should I
tell the guys downstairs?"

Candice threw on the clothing she had prepared the night before, a
simple black tank top, a long light skirt, and combat boots.  She
called out to Chip as she was finishing her make-up

"You mean they're still waiting?  What do they want?"

"They want to play...um..you're ...ah..wake-up call.  The manager
couldn't let them upstairs at this hour -I mean, there ARE other
people on this floor..."

"My *WHAT*??  Oh forget it, just tell them I'll be down in a minute."

She heard Chip leave,  finished lacing up her boots and ran a comb
through her short hair.  After the Peroxide Incident last war, Candice
had chopped off her hair when she got back to Alfred.  It was just
reaching neck/shoulder length again.  She silently thanked who ever
was watching over her that The Alfred Mercs were otherwise occupied
this month with work back in the States.  Candice didn't think she
would be able to hold back her homocidal tendencies the next time she
saw them, so it was just as good that they weren't around.

Backpack in hand, Candice almost choked at what she saw in the lobby,
making a time check, at *8:30* in the morning?!?!

There before her were four impersonators of a 70's band she had tried
to forget in the 80's!  It was KISS!  They were set up in front of the
reception desk ready to rock and roll.

"No wonder that bellboy was so anxious," she muttered striding to the
'band.'  They started tuning their guitars and raising the levels on
their amps when they saw her.

Candice walked right by them to the reception desk and nonchalantly
asked "Any messages?"

"Name?" he said impatiently with the kind of attitude one only showed
annoying foreigners.

"Candice Carda...er...ah..Cousin Candice is probably what anyone would
have used."

The man behind the counter flipped through his stack of messages and
looked curiously up at Candice, then to the band, then back again to
her.

"Hmm, yes actually -there are 3 here for you, miss."  He handed her
the thin yellow slips of paper.

"Thanks!" she smiled brightly at the man who looked as though some one
just stepped on his toes.

***

As she walked out the front lobby, the band broke into a roaring
rendition of one of the recently popular songs due to an incredibly
stupid movie. Much to Candice's surprise, the limo was still there -
driver waiting out side for her and all.

"Boss's orders."  He tipped his hat and smiled.  Candice couldn't
imagine what Stu would want her to have a limo for all week long.

"Alright," she climbed into the back seat "but we have GOT to trade
this thing in for something a little more practical..ya know -like
maybe a Dodge Viper."

She flipped through the messages -one from Stu, one from Lisa, and one
that read:

                Needed:  One box of the bound kind.
                                        -H
"Boxes?  Bound kind? " she repeated to herself  and then it dawned on
her.

"Hey, um I never got your name..."

"I'm James, nice to meet you Candice."

"..yeah well listen James, we need to get to a hardware supply -know
of any?  And then we need to head back over to CERK -you know -the
place we were at last night?"

"There's one just out of the fabric district past Queen Street."

"Great, let's go."

***9:30 am
An hour later Candice was at CERK looking for her conspirator, books
in hand. She left the sealed box of books with a note for old friend
on the fornt-most desk in the office.


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


TOA (Tired on Arrival)

1 hour pre-dawn, Toronto Airport.  28 JUL 1996
Concurrent with: (WoofPack) "Marking Our Territory"

"Do you guys fly?" Tigon asked.

Steve gulped audibly.

"Well, yeah, sort-of," his voice trailed off. He went into a Nick-like
trance as he recalled the sudden arrival of Perry earlier that
evening. Somehow Perry had convinced 'the Girls' (as he called his
little pack o' vampuppies) that they *had* to get to LAX immediatlely.
A quick packing of his gym bag and some maneuvering to hold onto
Athena and Gorgeous (both sizable dogs and sturdily built) and it was
off the subsequent wild ride to LAX to meet Tigon. Scotch had arrived
with the two larger dogs, and though too small to help lift Steve in
flight, managed to keep from distracting the other Girls until their
arrival at LAX.

The big guy snapped back to the present.
"We've done it, but I can't say I'm a big fan. I got this *thing*
about heights."

"Well put that on hold for know, because we've gotta these pups inside
and I mean soon," Tigon stated flatly. With good reason, too. In less
than an hour dawn would begin to hint at it's arrival, making it
imperative to get the vampuppies into a safe haven.

'The Girls' sidled up to Steve as the rest of the WoofPack prepared to
depart. With a  bit of cajoling, Steve convinced Scotch to take the
stuffed gym bag he had been lugging around.
"That oughta keep her out of trouble," he said with a grin to Tigon
while nodding at the small grey Scotch Terrier. "At least until we
get...wherever."

The flight was uneventful, save for a quick pitstop (okay, Tigon
needed a map, but I had to GO).

Upon arrival Tigon spent a few moments perusing a document attached to
the front  door, then she approached Steve.

The sky was starting to show traces of pick with the impending
sunrise. "Steve," she said with a sense of urgency, "Do you think you
could kick this door in?"

"No problemo," he said in his best 'Ah-nold' imitation, then proceded
to a slam his sneakered foot into the door, knocking it wide open and
sending part of the door jamb flying.

The door proved to be easier than he thought and Steve quickly stepped
out of the way as the WoofPack rushed into the house. He grabbed the
gymbag from Scotch as she tore into the house. No sense letting her
get curious about the contents, he thought -- what a mess that'd be.
He sat the bag down and proceded to examine his handiwork....er,
footwork on the door. Athena sat by his side.

"I can fix this, but I don't think whoever owns this place is gonna
appreciate this too much. I'll work on it later after I get you girls
set up for the night, er, day."
  Athena gave a sympathetic whimper, then perked her ears up as Scotch
came rushing up to the door, barking like a maniac.  The vaguely
familiar screeches of guitar licks filled the air within moments,
thankfully drowning out the ministrations of the small vampuppy. Steve
grabbed up the terrier and peeked out the window as the doorbell rang.
Tigon answered the door then popped outside to talk with a deliveryman
and gaped at the band on the flat-bed truck. She poked her head back
inside and mumbled something about coffee and Steve, after setting
down the terrier and admonishing her to chill out, was outside in a
heartbeat.

Satiated with a few cups of cappucino and a little chocolate, Steve
worked off pent up energy from the flight with some serious head
flailing as the band ground a killer rendition of "I love it Loud."
Thoroughly exhausted, he went in and saw to "the Girls' needs before
they all crashed.

----
Skip forward a few hours to mid-morning:
----
Sleep came easily, but hunger pangs soon woke Steve. He rummaged thru
his bag and pulled a few white packets out, then headed down to find
the kitchen, and with luck, a blender. While rummaging thru the
cabinets he heard a squeal then the sound of small, but determined
feet stomping thru the house. HE peeked out of the kitchen door,
wisely hiding, uh, waiting, until he found out what was going on.

"Well, whatever it is, I still gotta eat." Steve found a  blender
tucked away ina cupboard and pourted the packet contents and some
water it, along with the few icecubes left in the freezer. As he
turned off the blender and took a sip of the mix, he heard a loud
shout that sounded like "KEY!"

He followed the sound of the tirade to Tigon's room, then stopped as
he spotted Lizbet browbeating Tigon for the door incident. The wheels
is Steves head started to turn as he recognized the attractive,
vertically challenged merc.
<Hmm, I wonder if an Extreme Chocolate MetRx shake would take her mind
of what I did to the door....might be a good idea to have her solidly
on my side, rather than wanting to have my hide> he thought to himself
just as the sounds of snarling dogs and a shriek from Becky pulled his
attention from his musings.


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


Minor Repairs
by Gayle McCreedy, Laura MacMillan, and Idalia
Time:  Sunday, July 28th at 10:00 a.m.


Gayle let out a low whistle as she looked at the front of the van.

"Nice crease!" she thought, but knew better than to say.

"Too bad we had to purposely crash the van," Laura said.  "But it had
to look real to fool the Cousins."

Gayle nodded, then calmly pulled a cell phone from her pack and dialed
the Windsor number.

"Julie!  Hi, yeah, it's Gayle.  Listen, I need a mechanic.  Someone
who works on Sundays, and works cheap.  Know anyone?"

Gayle made notes in a small spiral notebook while being silently
grateful that WSU's doctoral program was increasingly Canadian.
Making a few more notes, she hung up.  After one more short phone
call, she turned to Laura with a smile.

"Good news.  Not only can we get this fixed today, we can get a loaner
for the day from the mechanic.  Oh, and Laura, he says that if we can
leave it until tomorrow, he will add a few *extras* that might be
helpful in the war."


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


High, Low, and Everywhere Else
by Scottie

*******
7/28 10 a.m.

"Ladies ... LADIES! Now that we've gotten rid of the KISS
impersonators, first priority is finding the black book. Catherine and
I have looked everywhere we can think of here at the loft. So where
else?"

Scottie hesitated before holding up her hand. "Um, I may be stretching
it here, but I'm old, remember--and one of the things I do best is
forget where I've put things, resulting in a major search to find
them. Quit cackling, Perri."

 "You may be right--several other sets of eyes couldn't hurt. So, we
need to search every square centimeter of this place. Volunteers?"
Perri asked.

Every hand in the room went up.

Perri smiled. "Yes, we *are* being helpful Knighties today, aren't we?
Right. Divide and conquer. Librarians--books?"

Scottie looked a question at Karen, who nodded enthusiastically.

"Vicky--cameras, electronic equipment? Sandra? Artwork and painting
supplies. Dotti--take a couple more people and check upstairs? Anybody
for the kitchen?" Several hands went up. "Maybe only one person there-
-it can't be too hard to search. It never got much use. What's left?
Ah, the garage. Catherine? You and me? Okay, folks, hop to. Give a
yell if anybody finds anything interesting. Meet back here in ... two
hours?"

Everybody hopped to.

**************
Karen held up a well-thumbed copy of _Men Are From Mars, Women Are
From Venus_. Scottie just shook her head, mumbling "Communication,
communication" to herself.

They'd found a varied assortment of books--everything from dry
archaeological textbooks to _The Bridges of Madison County_, with a
few side trips to Dorothy L. Sayers, Turgenev, Steinbeck, Montague
Summers and Poppy Z. Brite. They were starting to reshelve when
Catherine, dirty and tired, trooped in to inform them of dozens more
boxes of books in the garage.

They went through those, too.

"He must read at the speed of light," Karen said in some amazement,
repacking a box.

"How else is he gonna spend those long, bright days? You can only
sleep so long." Scottie added, "What bewilders me is why he has all
these vampire novels."

"He's checking for accuracy? Who knows--maybe the same reason why he
watches Dracula movies."

Scottie sighed. "We could stock a rather large bookstore with this
collection. And I know a particular library that would pay mucho
dinero for that edition of _Bells and Pomegranates_."

"Or for the signed Thoreau. Or any of the vellum books." Karen winced
at the sound of pots and pans being thrown back into the kitchen
cabinets. "And another thing--most of these should be in a controlled
environment, not packed away in dusty boxes in the garage. If Nick
ever shows his face, I'm going to have a word or two to say to him
about these books. It's inexcusable. This, and a couple of other
things, like his disappearance."

"Maybe he thinks 10 months of the cold Toronto winter preserves them?
I don't know. But if he does show his face, I'm willing to wait for an
explanation. He may not think logically at times, but deep down, I
don't think he'd just disappear into thin air without a pretty good
reason."

******************
7/28 Noon

"Is everybody here?" Perri looked over the assorted Knighties.
"Where's Dotti? Still upstairs? Somebody go get her."

Fifteen seconds after Marg climbed the stairs, the Knighties heard an
outraged bellow. "Dotti! Stop going through Nick's underwear drawer
this minute! Do you hear me?" Mumbles from Dotti. "Put them all back
and close the drawer! No, all of them. You can't keep *any* of them!"

The next thing they saw was an unrecalcitrant Dotti coming down the
stairs, followed closely by Marg. Applause issued from the assembled
throng, and Dotti bowed in acknowledgement.

"Did any of the rest of you find anything?" Perri asked, when everyone
had taken their places again.

Nobody had.


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


Sounds of the Knight

Saturday, 10:40 p.m.  Tina Cooling (aka Bast)
                      bast@prairienet.org

***Nick&NatPack***

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

The sounds of Lucien LaCroix, aka The Nightcrawler, flooded Susan
Bennett's house.  The Nick&NatPackers, wincing from the volume, soon
became accustomed to it and began to listen appreciatively.

"Hey, this isn't bad," said Laura McMillan.  "Kinda long-winded, kinda
boring, but not too bad."

"We can always use more Nightcrawler monologues!" exclaimed Idalia,
the Light Cousin of the group.

"Besides, it makes good research," said Mel Moser.  Her eyes
brightened, and she turned to the rest of the Nick&NatPackers, an idea
obviously forming.  "Why don't we ask the Cousins for a tape of all
the Nightcrawler's monologues?  It'll really bother them to know that
we don't mind this at all."

The entire Nick&NatPack chuckled, and Laura was deputized to write the
note.  They sat watching as she scribbled for a few minutes, and then
passed the sheet of chocolate-smudged paper around the room.

   April, Dee, Denise, and Cousins:

          We appreciate the tape of the Nightcrawler's radio
          shows.  Our own copies of them have been missing for a while.
          Is there any way that you could send us more? I love
          listening to him.  With lots and lots of thanks,

                                               Laura McMillan
                                               and the Nick&NatPack


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


For Your Viewing Pleasure...(1/2)
by: Cousin Candice
time: Sunday 7/28 10:50 am
place: Toronto; mostly the North Western part of the city

        right after WAR: Tune Your Instrument


Candice was rummaging around in her backpack for her wallet. The early
morning trip to the station had surprised a few sleepy Cousins, but
they hadn't paid much attention to her, infact, Candice didn't really
recognize them.  She would have to remedy that.  Discovering that she
had more Canadian currency than American, she told James to pull over
to the first Second Cup he saw.

"Breakfast?"

"Yes, coffee, I need coffee.  The KISS clones were almost enough to
wake me up fully, but I really can't do without caffiene, especially
with these hours

I'm keeping.  Come on, I'm buying."

James rolled the limo to a halt smack in front of the Second Cup on
Bloor Street.  Candice felt painfully obvious stepping out of the
thing and reminded herself to loose this chauffer bit.  They ordered
two coffees, both black, and decided to head west on Bloor  for a leg
stretch. Before they knew it they were standing in front of the Royal
Ontario Museum. James and Candice both looked up at the huge purple
flags that hung outside proclaiming:

           The Royal Ontario Museum Presents:

                    TREASURES FROM THE DUCHY OF BRABANT

                      PRIVATE SHOWING
       Monday July 29, 1996 from 7:00 pm to 9:OO pm in the
                  Mediterranean World Exhibition Area, 3rd Floor.


          Press passes for the 29th available until the 27th

      This exhibition is made possible by a donation from the Brabant
                     Foundation, Inc.

"Kinda strange, dontcha think?  Having a private showing in a museum
in the summer?"  James tossed his empty cup into a trash can and
turned his eyes to Candice, seemingly lost in thought.

"Very strange indeed, but it looks like I'm a day late and a dollar
short for the press thing...."  They turned and started walking back
towards the limo.

"Listen James, I don't mean to sound ungrateful, but..."

"But you don't really need me and since we're about a twenty minute
drive from the airport, you were figuring I should take you and the
limo there to make a car exchange then go home, right?"  James smiled
at her again.

Candice blinked.

***Thirty Minutes Later***

Candice waved goodbye to James at the airport  then drove off in a
very practical car -a Viper with standard transmission.  The people at
the Canadian version of Hertz were very happy to have another limo at
their behest.

She headed off the highway back onto Bloor going east, looking for the
nearest printer shop -preferably Kinko's.  Candice had an idea.


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


Liquor *is* Quicker
by Lisa McDavid

This takes place at N&N headqarters just after everyone has recovered
from the "surprise" in the chocolate.

The grandfather clock on the landing struck 11.

"That's weird," said the N&N-er who was slumped on the carpet nearest
the clock. "It seems like we were sick longer than 15 minutes.

"We were," someone else replied.

"Then how can it be just 11?" asked the original inquirer.

Suspicion blossomed simultaneously. The N&N-ers dived for the windows
and pulled back the curtains on full daylight. Something beside the
syrup must have been in the candy, because the time was 11 a.m. A neat
twelve hours had vanished from their time scheme.

Just then the phone rang -- lawyer wanted to remind them of the
hearing date, and all the memories of the crash and the jail and the
estimates came flowing back.


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


A NEW ARRIVAL...

by Tina Cooling (aka Bast)
        <bast@prairienet.org>

Saturday, July 27, 8 a.m.

***Nick&NatPackers***

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

Tina, feeling rather miffed at the lack of posts she'd gotten lately
relating to the war, sat down at her laptop and checked her e-mail
again. "Nothing!  Why is nothing happening to me here!  There's a war
on and I don't have a clue!"  Suddenly, a post came through.  "What's
this?"

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

Date: Sat, 27 Jul 1996 13:13:23
From:  Soulseek <soulseek@sprynet.com>
To:  Tina Cooling <bast@prairienet.org>
Subject:  N&NPack War

Tina--
The Nick&NatPack could use you.  Feel like coming up to Susan
Bennett's and playing with us?

--Laura McMillan

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

"Well, that sounds like fun," said Tina, smiling wickedly.  Tossing
her Garlic Powder in her backpack, along with a rather large super-
soaker and a box or two of Godiva Chocolates she'd picked up recently.
"Never know when those'll come in handy!" she'd said as she bought
them.  Throwing her pentacle around her neck and hoping that crosses
weren't the only thing that worked on vampires, Tina began searching
for her cat, Bogart.

"There you are!" she exclaimed, pulling him out from under her bed and
carrying him to Jinx, the Terror Van, or so her friends at school had
called it.  *Just because it doesn't have side windows and it's a
mini-van. Sheesh.  I think of a great name like Jinx, and all they can
think of is something unoriginal like "The Terror Van"* She hopped
into the car, put her laptop, backpack, and a small suitcase on the
seat and gave Bogart free rein.  Turning the key, she drove off.
*Thank the Goddess that my final was yesterday!  I don't know what I'd
do if I had to finish my summer class with a war going on!*

Quite a few hours later:

Pulling up in front of Susan's house, Tina got out of the car, Bogart
mewling plaintively behind her.  "Relax, silly, I'll get us some food
soon." She rang the doorbell and was confronted by hordes of
Nick&NatPackers.

"Get in here!" said Laura.  "You have a car?  Great, do me a favor and
deliver a letter for me, will you?"

"Sure," said Tina, looking around.  "Why is the Nightcrawler's radio
show playing in here?" she asked.  She was quickly brought up to speed
on all the events before being sent out with directions to the CERK
station.

"Ok, lemme see if I can do this without getting caught."  Pulling up
to the station, Tina rang the buzzer, pushed the letter under the
door, and ran to her car.  As she drove off unnoticed, she saw several
Cousins open the door and pick up the letter with puzzled looks on
their faces.


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


Chain of Thought (2/2)
by Jane Credland (with input from Cynthia, Catherine, Tara, Tami and
Felicia)
Date:  Sunday, July 28, 1996 (late morning ... sort of noonish) after
Seek, Locate, Destroy part 2 and before Redecorating the Raven
Place: The Raven

The aroma of coffee drifted through the back rooms of the Raven,
tantalizing and teasing the Raven/ettes as it spread.  Some were
already awake -- mostly those who had given up on sleep after Jamie's
little gift of KISS music had blared through the Raven.  The noise
from the work crews hadn't helped very much either.  They sat around
the few repairable tables in the largest of the habitable back rooms,
clutching mugs of their favourite morning brews. Others stumbled
sleepily out of bed, while the rest simply curled up a little tighter
and tried to drift back into unconsciousness for a third time.

Jane concentrated carefully on pouring the boiling water over the tea
bag in the over-sized mug she'd brought from home, and cutting a large
enough slice of lemon without slashing her fingers.  Preparations
complete, she added a couple of ice cubes -- a trick she learned one
weekend in July from Catherine -- which cooled her tea down just
enough to be able to drink it immediately.  She buried her nose into
her mug, inhaled the scent of tea and citrus appreciatively and then
took a long drink.

Eyes finally open, innate shyness grabbed hold and Jane stood there
indecisively, wondering where Cynthia had gotten to.  Cyn hadn't come
to bed at all last night, and was still madly making plans for the
reconstruction of the Raven when Jane went back to bed early this
morning.  She smiled mistily at the memories of that brief interlude
of privacy.

"Hey!  Jane!"  Tami gave up trying to get her attention quietly, and
tapped Jane on the shoulder.  "Care to join us in the corner?"

"Huh... uh... sure."  Jane followed Tami to a table in the corner that
she'd missed before.

Jess, Felicia and Catherine were sitting with two other Ravenettes.
Sure that she had been introduced to the two strangers the day before,
and unwilling to admit that she had forgotten their names, Jane
muttered a general "hi" at the table and sat down next to Jess.
Within seconds, Jess was showing off her drawings of the renovations.

One hand wrapped tightly around a cup of coffee, Felicia pushed her
blonde hair out of her eyes with the other.  "Tami and I talked some
more last night about Miklos.  Since he hasn't shown up here on his
own, we think it would be a good idea if we went out and found him
ourselves."

"Misogyny."  Catherine grumbled into her book.

Felicia narrowed her eyes, trying to figure out if the accusation had
been levelled at her.  "What does misogyny have to do with looking for
Miklos?"

Catherine looked up distractedly.  "Not Miklos, the author of this
book.  He obviously doesn't like women, especially the independent,
self-respecting kind.  I hate misogynistic men."

"They're probably not too fond of you either."  Tara leaned her elbows
on the table and spoke up.  "We definitely should find Miklos.  The
place isn't the same without him.  To be honest, I don't understand
why he isn't here. He must know by now that Janette is back at the
Raven.  Still, I'm sure that if we found him, I'd be able to persuade
him to come back."

"Jess is pretty good at persuasion too."  Tami smiled indulgently.
"She has a definite talent for wrapping men around her little finger. 
She's gonna terrorize the boys when she grows up."

Jess raised her head when she heard her name, but returned to her
discussion of the finer points of drawing and colouring with Jane;
obviously she wasn't in trouble or anything like that.

Lana broke into the conversation.  "We'll have to find him before
anyone can test their powers of persuasion.  There must be other clubs
in Toronto where a vampire bartender could find employment."

"Morning."  Chanda tossed her braid over her shoulder and plopped down
in the remaining chair, next to Tara.  The black cat in her arms
meowed appealingly and drew everyone's attention.

"Is that Janey?"  Tara reached over and rubbed behind the cat's ears,
thankful that she'd taken her seldane that morning and wouldn't have
to suffer through an allergy attack.  "She's so much bigger now."

"Janey?  You named your cat Janey?"  Jane said disgustedly.  "What a
horrible thing to do to such a beautiful creature."

Chanda clutched Janey a little closer.  "What's wrong with Janey?
She's named in honour of Janette."

"Umm... sorry."  Jane chewed nervously on her lower lip as she
realized that she had just insulted Chanda.  "It's just that Janey is
not exactly one of my favourite names.  In fact, I *hate* being called
Janey.  Usually I just ignore people who do it, but I have been known
to lose my temper and..." Her voice trailed off as she tried
desperately to come up with an excuse.

Silence fell as everyone at the table turned and looked at Jane.
Jess's mouth was a perfect "o" as she waited to see what horrors would
befall her new friend.

"Look, I'm really sorry.  It just came out.  I didn't mean... oh
h*ll." Jane raked her fingers through her hair.  "Can we start all
over again?  Hi, I'm Jane.  It's nice to meet you.  Your cat is
beautiful."

Chanda's brow furrowed, then she relaxed and summoned a smile.  "Thank
you. It's nice to meet you too.  I'm Chanda."

Catherine cleared her throat and got everyone's attention.  "We could
go to Sanctuary.  To look for Miklos."

"The vampire sex bar?"  Tami drained the rest of her coffee.  "I
remember hearing about that place when I was here in April.  Even if
Miklos isn't there, maybe someone there will be able to point us in
the right direction."

"Not to mention the fact that you're dying of curiosity.  Right?"
Felicia interjected.  "I've been wanting to go there ever since I read
Jane and Catherine's account of their adventures in July."

"Well, it's not quite the Raven; closer to the opposite end of the
spectrum, to be honest."  Catherine put down her book with a thump.
It was, after all, as thick as every other 19th century novel.  "But
it was interesting."

Soon everyone at the table was involved in making plans to find
Miklos. Potential hiding places and clubs were discussed.  A couple
more rounds of coffee and tea later, they had a basic strategy worked
out; starting with a trip to Sanctuary the next night.


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


Staredown
(immediately following "Marking Our Territory")
by Tigon Diana Hooker

Late Morning-29 JUL 1996
Toronto, FG Mansion


Tigon shoved past Lizbet and charged down the stairs and straight into
a melee worthy of Jack London. Four dogs were already fully engaged,
with the other dogs on the sidelines eying the scene with 'this could
be fun' expressions. Perry emerged from a side room with purpose
strong in his eyes.

Pushing through Becky and Steve, who were wisely staying away from the
battle, Tigon did the unwise and waded into the fray. She signalled to
Perry that he was to stay...if she were truly going to be Alpha of
this melded pack, she was not going to be able to rely on the
frequently absent Golden. She already berated herself for stupidly
ignoring the inevitable tensions that were bound to arise from several
groups of dogs suddenly thrust together. A hierarchy had to be
established...now.

Tigon had a naturally deep voice and a powerful ability to imitate.
She let loose with a snarling growl that startled even Perry into
flinching back. Admittedly...it sounded more like a lioness than a
she-wolf, but it worked. First she focused on the combatents in the
middle, one from each pack: Smokey(always looking for a fight)was
hers, the mortal wolf-mix was Becky's 'Scruffy', Steve's Scotch
(terrific...the dog *did* have the 'Scottie Temperament'), and the
absent Maryann's mortal Killie.

She had no idea, nor did she care, who started it. She caught each
dog's gaze and stared them down. Smoke, already submissive to her, was
already repentant. Scruffy, closer to the true wolf heritage, was the
most difficult. Once the four had exposed their bellies, Tigon then
engaged the other dogs' stares and one by one, confirmed her
leadership. Then she took a nervous Becky and Steve around, and with
Perry's help, made all the dogs understand that they were to be obeyed
in her absense. Perry also helped her communicate that fighting
amongst the pack would not be tolerated.

An hour later she stumbled back upstairs toward her room, only to hear
the purposeful thumps of Lizbet's feet behind her. "Tigon," she heard
Lizbet say, "We need to work out a few things...uh..." Tigon turned,
eyes still hard from playing staredown with twenty-one dogs.
"Uh...nevermind."

Shrugging, Tigon went back to bed.


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


Isn't Sunday a Day of Rest???
(following 'Staredown')
by Tigon Diana Hooker

Noon to Late Night-29 JUL 1996


After tossing and turning for an hour, Tigon gave up the concept of
sleep. There was too much to do, too much to figure out, and...too
much to clean.

Rising, she cleaned up and dragged a protesting Steve and Becky from
their beds. Unfortunately, shopping hours were confined to the 'waking
hours' as normal people called them. Just because they had a pack of
animals that rearranged their sleep schedules, didn't mean the world
was going to cooperate.

Well, maybe Tigon's hometown of L.A. cooperated by having 24 hour
deli's and grocery stores, but she couldn't chance Toronto doing the
same. After coming up with a huge grocery list for humans as well as
dogs and pooling their resources, Steve and Becky went off to gather
supplies. Tigon stayed behind to puppysit and begin the clean
up...anything was better than trying to explain to a butcher *why* you
needed enough blood to float a ship in. She just hoped there was
another refridgerator hiding somewhere.

Chasing all the dogs into the basement (and finding not one, but *two*
refridgerators in the bargain), she began what was only a battle in
her longstanding war.

Tigon was a neat freak.

She found the cleaning supplies and began. Somewhere in the middle of
her 'Address to Shedded Fur,' Becky and Steve returned. Steve took one
look and bolted...good thing Tigon had already cleaned and
straightened his room. After helping Becky load up the spare
refridgerators, Tigon banished her as well, noting the desperate
relief reflecting through the woman's glasses as she did so. Tigon
hoped Becky appreciated how neat her closet now was.

Tigon was a rabid neat freak who believed the only way to do it right
was to do it yourself.

And so the day waxed and waned...until the mansion was far cleaner
than it had been in years. The only exception being Lizbet's room.
Tigon had taken one peek and even her stout heart had faltered at the
contents. She had Steve install a padlock on the door, lest any of the
chaos within were to break free to breed and spread.

As she and the others fed the pack in the basement, she absently fed
blood-soaked saltines to Timon the Rat, sitting on her shoulder. "We
need a plan," she said, stating the obvious.

Becky peered at her owlishly, her glasses dangling unused from her
neck. "What kind of a plan?"

"Actually, I was hoping you guys might have an idea."

Steve said, "Well, you've been at this longer than we have."

"Not by much." The two continued to stare at her silently. She sighed
and let her gaze fall on Maryann's three dogs. "Okay, I have an idea."


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


Booked for Trouble
by Lisa McDavid

About noon on Sunday, July 28th

"Any questions?" asked the General.

Fred flapped and gave a battle cry.

"Why not?" Lacroix smiled. "Anne, take him with you."

The Cousins filed out of Command Central and onto the elevators after
the lock system verified Tok's handprint.

Cousin Lisa stared moodily into her Coke. "Do you really think I would
have gotten drunk? I mean, it's Sunday morning in Toronto, for
heaven's sake."

The vampire opened his laptop and brought up Minesweeper. "My dear, I
have no doubt whatever of your ability to overcome all obstacles in
the quest for wartime Zombie Beachcombers. Besides, your liver will
thank me when this is all over."

"Ok, but I still think I'd have been more use than the rest of them.
I'm not just a librarian, I'm a bookaholic. If anyone should be good
at finding places where Nick's book might have been put ...." She took
a long pull on the Coke.

"Exactly," said Lacroix, clearing around a square. "That's why you're
going over to that PC and start logging into local online catalogs."

Lisa, a sudden glint in her eye, did just that.


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


Home Secure Home
by Mel Moser, Heather DeLong, John T. Folden, Laura MacMillan, Jenn
Dukarski

N&NPackers Headquarters
Sun July 28, 12:00pm Noon-ish

Mel Moser, Heather DeLong, and John T. Folden sat around the kitchen
table, exhausted after a long night's work installing a full security
system at the N&NPackers headquarters.  Papers were spread out in
front of them, remnants of late night snacks were scattered across the
kitchen counter and table, and the recycle bin was nearly full with a
good amount of empty soda cans. As they reviewed their work for the
night, each was drinking their beverages of choice.  Mel was working
on her third Diet Coke while Heather and John both nursed tall glasses
of iced tea.

Mel ran through the security checklist one last time.  "Flood lights,
motion sensors, infrared heat detectors, infrared cameras, contact
sensors on all floors, windows, and around the house grounds, laser
beams at each entrance, garlic holy water sprinklers....  Garlic holy
water sprinklers?"

Heather smiled mischievously, her eyes twinkling, "You can never be
too sure, now can you?"

Mel rolled her eyes.  "I think we could have stopped at the guard
dogs, 24 hour guard-duty, and garlic & holy water super-soakers."

Mel looked over her two companions who looked as tired and disheveled
as she felt.  All last night while most of the other N&NPackers had
slept, the three of them had worked installing the wiring and hi-tech
security and computer equipment that would run and manage the
temporarily security system for the N&NPackers headquarters.  While
they knew the Cousins had been to blame for the break-in last night,
they would have never known exactly who had been responsible if
Heather hadn't discovered several threads from a familiar backpack
that had caught on a nail in one of the crawlspaces.  There was no
doubt in the N&NPackers' minds that Cousin April had been the culprit
behind the Nightcrawler Monologue System caper.  And while doing the
installations, Heather had found and disabled the electronics the
mischievous Cousin had installed.

"How did you afford to buy all this stuff, by the way?"  Mel asked
Heather.

Heather grinned evilly as she whipped out a piece of plastic from her
pocket, "Our little Cousin April dropped something while installing
our Nightcrawler Monologue system."  Heather passed it around so
everyone could 'oooo' and 'ahhh' over the sight of LaCroix's Platinum
credit card.

"Now all we have to do is run the final test of the computer network
to make sure everything is still working," John stated.

With that, they got up and headed towards the room where the computer
network had been setup.  Using Laura's and Susan's computers and Mel's
laptop, John and Mel had installed a computer network that hooked in
with the security equipment.  From here, they could monitor and log
all suspicious activity on the premises.

"All we need now is a T-1 line and we could be our on Internet Service
Provider," John had joked as they had installed the equipment last
night.

Entering the room, they discovered several N&Npackers playing Doom in
Deathmatch mode using all three networked computers.

Mel laughed.  "I see you discovered the customized version of Doom my
friend made for me."  As they watched the game being played, they
noticed that the villains in the game were carouches and vampires,
with the top villains as LaCroix and Janette. As they played the game,
the N&Npackers made piles of ash and crispy critters out of the
villains using the holy water water-pistols and flame throwers
designed to be the weapons of the custom game.

"Okay, guys," John stated after several enjoyable minutes of watching
the game.  "Time to clear out.  We've got work to finish up."

There were groans and complaints for a few seconds, but eventually
they all cleared out and went back to the main room, to continue
plotting or watching tapes, no doubt.  They had been a little bored
ever since last night when the Cousins had snipped the cable TV wires
thinking they were the phone lines.  It didn't slow the N&NPackers
down much though.  They had been up late last night watching Nick &
Nat FK episodes.   Mel felt sure they had worn out the tapes of "Be My
Valentine" and "Night in Question".

As she sat down, Mel cursed as she bumped her knee against the
Unlimited Power Supply (UPS) unit under the table.  "You know, we
probably should move this thing to a more convenient location."  They
had setup the security system as well as all three computers to hook
into it.  And with the phone line running into Mel's laptop, the
system would page them if security alarms went off.

"This isn't too much?"  Mel wondered, eyeing the elaborate system they
had setup.  The computer programs flashed data across the screen.

Heather chimed in, "You can never have too much security."

"Where did you learn about all this stuff anyway, Heather?" John
asked.

"I'm a military brat of sorts, remember?"  She laughed.  "Most of my
family is or has been in the military at some time or another.  Makes
for some great fan fiction writing, too."

"John, did we thank you profusely enough for donating this great
equipment to the cause?"  Mel asked.

"Having a computer business can come in handy," he replied.

"And a computer degree," Mel added. "I never I'd be using it like this
though."

The three N&Npackers did a final check of the setup and at last agreed
that their work was complete.

"And everyone knows the guard duty rotation?"  Heather asked.

John leaned back in his chair and looked through the doorway and
noticed that the current person on duty, Jenn Dukarski, was doing her
rounds.  "Yep. Jenn's on duty now."

"Let's gather some of the computer-type people and have them check out
and monitor the security systems," Mel said.  "In between playing
Doom, of course," she added with a grin.

"Perhaps we should limit the Deathmatches to two computers so the
other can beep if there's any security problems," John recommended.

Laura MacMillan entered the room, her German Shepherd, Shadow,
trailing close behind her. "How's it going?" she asked.

After giving the N&NPackers faction leader a brief presentation on the
security setup, they all agreed that the mini-project was a success.

"Loved the N&NPackers graphics and sound effects on your computer,"
Heather told Laura.  The others nodded their heads in agreement.  They
could never get enough Nick and Nat.  Now, each of the computers bore
the N&NPackers logo as Windows backgrounds and screen savers.  "In
Faith and Love There is Forever," their logo and motto read.

They finished up by setting up regular rotations of N&NPackers to
monitor the security systems. Content that their work for now was
through, John and Mel toddled off to bed for an afternoon nap.
Heather took off for her next task at hand.


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


Taking Care of Business
by Denise Underwood, Cousin

An Espresso Bar near CERK
Sunday, July 28 12noonish


Denise sat at the table with her evil twins April and Dee sipping a
mocha with extra whipped cream. They discussed the nights events in
great detail.

"To change the subject for a minute." Denise said.

April and Dee looked up from their drinks with interest.

"April, I need LaCroix's platinum AMEX from the #FK IRC Manor House
account."

"How come?" Asked April. "We just redecorated after all." She
pointed out.

"I know, " Denise answered, "but that's not why I need it. The IRC
pool needs a more efficient filtering system. The one now is being
overloaded from all the use the pool has been getting. It was never
intended for that kind of  heavy use."

"Did LaCroix approve the expense?" Dee asked.

"You don't think I wouldn't ask do you Dee?"  Denise replied,
surprised that her TEDT would even ask such a question. "I checked
with LaCroix the last time he was there, just before we came to
Toronto. You know how seriously I take my responsibility for the
Manor House accounts"

While her two evil twins were talking, April began rummaging through
her backpack. Dee and Denise both noticed the look of disbelief that
was growing on April's face.

"What's wrong April?" Dee asked worriedly.

April hesitated before answering, making one last pass through her
bag. "Ummmm, it's gone!" She wailed.

"Gone?" Dee and Denise shouted  simutaniously.

A sudden awful thought entered Denise's mind. She pulled out the
cellphone and quickly dialed AMEX, Dee and April listened as Denise
declared the card stolen, giving the proper passwords to close the
account and have a new card issued.

"How much?" Denise asked.  "I see, right, I'll leave the legal
matters to you. Yes, my employer will be very pleased to know you are
taking this so seriously. Yes, he is a very important customer. I'm
pleased you realize that. Thank you for your help, good bye."

"It was those dratted N&N packers I'm sure. The charges were all for
security equipment, and April you were in their compound last night."
Denise stated.

"What happens now?" April asked nervously.

"Don't worry April, AMEX will take care of the legal side. They are
very conscientious towards their platinum card holders. We need to go
over to the AMEX office and get the new card." Denise said
reassuringly.

"I think what April meant," said Dee, "was what happens when the
General finds out?"

"Don't worry about it April, I'm the one responsible for the Manor
House accounts not you. I'll explain it to him... somehow. It'll be
fine, you'll see." Denise said, trying to sound confident.

Dee hugged her twin. "Right, it'll be fine!"

"Come on twins, we have an AMEX office to visit."

The three twins got the new card, and this time Denise decided to
hang on to it.  "I'm going to put this somewhere really safe, and
only the three of us will know where it is. Let's get going guys, we
have business to take care of!"


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


REDECORATING THE RAVEN

by Arletta Asbury (g4akl@erols.com)

N&NPack
time: 12:30pm.(daylight)
Sunday, July 28,1996
Toronto, Ontario

---------------------
John stopped the rented van in front of the Raven.  He turned to Kris
who sat beside him and said, "You know what to do.  Good Luck."

"Sure.  I'll be back in a minute," Kris replied as she climbed out and
walked up to the door of the Raven.

"She's brave," said Judith to Heather, "I wouldn't want to go in there
alone."  Heather nodded in agreement.

Meanwhile Kris dressed in borrowed coveralls and carrying a clipboard
knocked on the door of the club.  When it was opened a few seconds
later she entered confidently.  Kris emerged a few minutes later and
motioned for the others to join her inside.

"Did you have any problems?" Judith asked in a low tone.

"No, I just mentioned that the redecorating crew had arrived to
repaint the bar and everyone retreated to the back rooms.  I think
they were afraid they'd get paint on their 'elegant' clothes," Kris
whispered back.

"Typical Ravenette behavior," Heather remarked quietly and the others
nodded in agreement.

"I'll fetch the paint from the van," John offered.

"I'll start on the stereo system," Judith added.

A couple of minutes later John was back with brushes, paint gun, and
several cans of the most nauseating fluorescent lime green paint that
they could find at any of the local paint stores.  John, Heather and
Kris began painting the whole interior of the night club while Judith
worked on the stereo system.

"What about all these stupid chains?" Kris asked the others.

"I think we should consider them part of the walls and paint 'em too,"
Heather said in reply.

"Yeah," John added in agreement.

Judith had a wicked grin on her face, this was fun.  She sincerely
hoped that the Ravenettes would like Barry Manilow's music as much as
she thought they would.

When Judith finished setting the equipment so that it would play a
continuous medley of Manilow's songs she joined the others in time to
help finish painting the walls.  The ceiling was already displaying
the sickening green paint.

When they had finished their task they paused only long enough to
survey their work, with satisfaction.

"Should we paint the bar's countertop too?" asked Judith.

"Nah, that would be too cruel," said Kris.

Heather and John grinned but reluctantly agreed.

Then Heather opened up the container of Super Wax she had brought. The
four of them quickly polished the floor to a high, slippery gloss
while working their way out the front door as they did so.

Once back inside the van, John said as they drove away, "I hope they
REALLY enjoy the new look we've given the Raven."


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


More Questions, Different Kinds
by Perri Smith

July 28, 12:30 p.m.
This takes place right after High, Low and Everywhere Else


Perri followed Cath out to the Caddie and flopped down in the
passenger seat beside her, unsurprised to find Allie and Marcia there
as well. "Hiding?" she asked archly.

Cath shrugged. "Allie wanted to lust over the Caddie."

"So do we all," Perri mused. "Well, all Knighties, anyway. Susan just
lusts after breaking it."

The other three waited patiently for Perri to get to the point -- she
was zoned, staring off at nothing in particular. "What's up?" Marcia
finally asked.

Perri let her head roll back against the leather seat. "I just talked
to Nick."

The other three straightened up. "What did he say?" Allie demanded.

Perri shrugged. "Not much. I made him tell me what his schedule was
like the days before he... um, left, asked him where else we could
look for the book. He said some informant wanted to meet him in the
turrets at Casa Loma, of all places -- he went there but no one
showed. And he was on Yonge St. that night, questioning people about a
homicide. That was the day before... everything happened."

"More places to check," Marcia concluded. "I've been to both of those
places -- want me to go check them out."

"Good idea," Cath said when it looked like Perri was going to continue
staring off into space. "Take whoever wants to go -- but be, like,
discrete. That KISS concert this morning can't have been an accident -
-I'll bet we've got company."

"No lie," Marcia said, having already been told about the concert.
Allie was right behind her as she scrambled out of the Caddie.

"Okay, what else?" Cath asked when they were out of earshot.

Perri blinked, her eyes focusing. "What?"

"What else? You normally don't zone like this unless you're in the
middle of a story or worried about something. So what's wrong?"

"Nothing," Perri said defensively. "I was just trying to decide who to
talk into going grocery shopping for us. You know, we can't get
anything perishable with the electricity still off, which means no ice
cream. And no e-mail and no Olympics and gymnastics are on tonight.
And I'm a little worried about that invitation we found for the
exhibition; someone's going to have to go..."

"Perri. Give."

Perri sighed in defeat and put her hand into the pocket of her hugely
oversized shirt, pulling out something small and shiny and handing it
to Cath. It was a woman's earring.

"What's this?"

"Katrinka found it when they were searching; she gave it to Scottie,
who gave it to me. Five'll get you ten it's Natalie's."

Cath thought about it, turning the earring over in her palm. "No bet.
And that's got you wondering where Natalie is."

"Yeah." Perri sighed yet again. "We've been assuming she was either...
you know, or with Nick. But Nick says she disappeared that night and
he doesn't know where she is. I'm just wondering if she's okay."

"Have you asked the NatPack?"

"Yeah, right after it happened. Jennie said they don't know."

"And?"

"And...." Perri shrugged. "I don't know whether to believe her. I
mean, she lied through her teeth last war about something a lot less
serious than Natalie's life. And I'd like to be able to tell Nick
she's at least okay. He's... worried. Scared to death, actually --
like he'd ever admit it. And I'm pretty worried, too."

Cath thought about it. "You think we should ask again?"

"I don't know." Perri yawned and rubbed her eyes. "I'm already too
tired to think straight -- we all got, like, four hours sleep last
night and this morning."

Cath echoed the yawn involuntarily. "Don't do that. Look, let's get
some caffeine and start figuring out how we're going to search the
Raven and the church and everywhere else. The way things are going,
we'll run into the NatPack just any time now. We can decide what to do
then."

Perri nodded. "Deal. Dibs on the Diet Pepsi."

Cath made a face. "You can have it."


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


A Whiter Shade of Green?
By Cynthia Hoffman, with input from Tara and Jane
Date:  July 28, 1996
Time:  1:00 p.m.
Place: Raven
Immediately after "Redecorating the Raven"

The door to the club shut, leaving the place in total darkness.
Carefully, Lorelei moved out of the back room, stepping on the edges
of the puke green floor and motioning to all the rest of them to stay
back while she determined that the coast was clear.

"They're gone," she stated.  "It's safe to come out now."

"What time is it?" Cynthia inquired.  "The furniture is due to be
delivered any moment, as is the liquor.  And someone please shut off
that nasty noise.  Barry Manilow's best stuff was a MacDonald's
commercial. Mandy is simply too syrupy to be believed."

"I think it's just after one," said Lana, the only one currently
wearing a watch.  "What are we going to do now?"

"That's easy," said Cynthia.  "When the painters and the woodworkers
left this morning, they covered their work with plywood to keep the
paint jobs safe from the furniture movers.  Remove the plywood, and
we're back in business."

"Those chains are green," said Jessica, stating the obvious for the
adults who were ignoring it.  "Green is a gross color."

Jane shrugged.  "The paint's still wet.  Tami, mj, Chris, let's get
started taking them down and cleaning them off.  At least the paint
they used was water soluble."

Everyone bent their bodies to their work, and in no time at all, the
place was ready for the installation of furniture, without a green
speck to be seen anywhere.

In a back corner of a far back room, Cynthia bent her head in concert
with Susan and Janette.  Some day, some how, whoever was responsible
(Cynthia *knew* it was the Nick&Natpack: who else would even *own*
Barry Manilow CDs?) was going to pay for that Barry Manilow music.  In
the meanwhile, the Raven/ettes were going to keep the stereo system
that had so graciously been donated to the cause. A back up system was
always a good idea.  After all, you never knew when something else was
going to happen.


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


Payment In Full
BY:     Mercenary Cousin Lisa Prince
TIME:   Sunday Afternoon, approximately 2:00

(relates to the post "WAR: Payments".  Note of clarification:  the
post "WAR: Payments" was written by my employer and simply posted by
me for the sake of protecting the not-so-innocent ;)  All will become
clear in time.  Patience, my dears, patience :)  Anyway, sorry for the
confusion.

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

Lizbet and Dawn were sitting in the living room of Merc. Central when
the door bell rang.  It was rather startlingly loud in the silence of
the building.

The sound of pounding and construction coming from the basement where
Mercenary Cousin Lisa had set up shop had blasted the air in Merc.
Central all day yesterday and late into the night. When it had finally
ended abruptly at around midnight, everyone had been quite relieved.
Those trying to sleep had pulled the pillows off of their heads and
thanked whatever entity they prayed to for the silence.  Those that
were still awake and sitting in the front room watched as a seemingly
endless line of workers and equipment heading out the front door.
Dianne and Christina had basically told everyone to ignore the goings
on in the basement.

As the buzzer sounded for a second time, Lizbet jumped up and went to
see who was at the door.  Standing on the front porch was a rather
handsome delivery man with a huge barrel, a beautifully gift-wrapped
box, and a clip board.

"Delivery for Lisa Prince," he said officially.  "Sign here," he
indicated as he handed her the clip board.

Lizbet grabbed the clip board and signed it with a flourish. Getting
the stuff downstairs would give her and Dawn an excuse to check out
Lisa's room.

"Hey, Dawn," Lizbet called, "come help me out with this stuff."
Together, the two Mercenaries got the barrel onto one of the hand
trolleys usually used for deliveries to the chocolate shop and headed
for the basement.

                                        ******

Tired out from their work at getting the barrel to the basement,
Lizbet and Dawn waited to catch their breath before knocking on Lisa's
door.

"Okay?" Dawn asked looking at Lizbet.

"Sure," she replied, "go for it."

Dawn reached out and knocked on the door.

Within seconds Lisa was at the door asking, "Who is it," with a great
deal of suspicion in her voice.

"It's Lizbet and Dawn," they chimed, "we've got a delivery for you."

Lisa opened the door slightly and peered out, "It better not be
another vampire."

"Vampire?" they questioned.  "Nope, no vampire, just a big barrel of
stuff and a pretty box."

Hearing that Lisa whipped the door open with a wicked grin. "Bring it
on in," she said in excitement.

The duo grabbed the hand trolley and wheeled the barrel in, all the
while looking around to check out the place.  It was much bigger than
they had thought it would be.  There were doors in every wall.  All
were closed and locked, they observed with disappointment.

As they worked the barrel off in the corner, Lizbet looked up and
said, "What *is* that smell?!?"

At the same moment, Dawn crinkled up her nose and said, "Ewwwww."

Lisa looked over at them, shook her head, and mumbled, "Ode de Screed,
courtesy of your friendly, neighborhood GHP."

Deciding to change the subject, Lizbet asked, "What's in the barrel?"

"Blue peanut M&Ms," Lisa remarked.

At the thought of chocolate, the two Mercenaries perked up quite a
bit.

Looking at their eager faces, Lisa said, "Go ahead, open it up and
help yourselves."

Happily tearing into the barrel of M&Ms, the Merc visitors were
oblivious to Lisa as she unwrapped the other package.  Seeing the
contents, she smiled her wickedest Cousinly grin.  It was funny, when
her employer had asked her why she wanted a copy of "The Prince," by
Machiavelli, she had simply replied that it had to do with her last
name -- Prince, The Prince.  But, she had chosen this book for a much
more important reason.  After his dismal performance in the last war,
Lisa thought that the General needed to bone up on his ruling and
conquering techniques.  Hence, the book would be a gift to his
Generalness very shortly.  Of course, she couldn't very well walk up
to him and say, "Get tough, dude," and slam the book into his chest.
This would take a little finesse and a great deal of thought.

Checking to make sure that her guests were still happily entrenched in
peanut M&M nirvana, she opened the secret compartment under the bank
of computer equipment.  Quickly grabbing the letter that was folded
inside the front cover of the book, she placed the book safely within
and secured the compartment.

Opening up the letter, she read:

        Mercenary Cousin Lisa,

        Per your request, I have procured a 10-gallon drum of blue
peanut M&Ms and a first edition copy of "The Prince."  As I'm sure
you're aware, if you happen to read the papers, the book was gained
through less than legitimate means.  I would suggest keeping it under
wraps for a while.
        To business.  Since I have upheld my end of the bargain, I
expect you to uphold yours.  You are to do the following ...


As Lisa continued to read, her grin got wider and wider.  Finally,
unable to keep it in any longer, she burst out laughing hysterically.
This outburst drew a rather strange look from the munching Mercs, but
Lisa was far too amused with her upcoming job to care what they
thought of her.

'What a great day this is turning out to be,' she thought wickedly to
herself as she got a huge container, scooped up a large quantity of
M&Ms for her visitors and sent them on their way.


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


THE DECEPTION
by Laura MacMillan and the N&NPack
Sunday, 28/96   2pm
Toronto, ON

Mel approached with her most serious and sickly face. Laura couldn't
help but laugh.

"You think the Cousins bought it?" Mel asked

"How could they not, thanks to the help of Captain Reese and this
handy little device, " Laura grinned happily.  "You all did so well at
pretending to be sick. If only they knew that we didn't steal the
chocolates for ourselves. We have other plans for them."

"Ya, someone is going to have a big surprise when they eat those
chocolates," Mel replied happily.

"Okay it's time to move on with the next part of the plan, " Laura
said as smiled deviously


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


Knight Prowls (1/2)
by Marcia Tucker
with clearance from Knighties Maryann Jorgensen, Karen Tobin, Monica
Vasquez, Suze Campagna.  I beg for leniency regarding any outrageous
liberties taken with Toronto locations - all my Casa Loma info and
other stuff is traveling in the trunk of my car somewhere between
Chicago and Sandusky, Ohio at the moment.

Day: Sunday, July 28, 1996
Time: 2:30 pm


Marcia steered the Windstar into the parking lot of 1 Austin Terrace -
Casa Loma, the famed castle on a hill north of downtown Toronto.
Well, it was a place to look, anyway!  The other Knighties - Maryann,
Karen, Monica, Suze -off-loaded and peered up at the formidable
structure.  Not that it was LIKELY that Nick's book would be here, but
hey, they knew he had been here at least once, and it was going to be
an interesting hunt regardless.

"Didn't I say she's a great driver?"  Maryann was bubbling as the
Knighties maneuvered up to the door.  "And if that van ain't the best
ride in town, I don't know what is!"

The Knighties all turned to regard her with amazement.  "Okay,"
Maryann finished hastily, "AFTER the Caddy!  But she is a great
driver."

"Practice, is all, Maryann," Marcia murmured, paying the $40 admission
for the five of them.  <Good thing Nick is paying for this,> she
thought.  Aloud, she added, "Considering how ancient this book of
Nick's is likely to be, if he'd have dropped it here during one of his
flights, or anywhere near here, for that matter, someone would likely
assume it was part of a Casa Loma exhibit.  That's what we're here to
check.  If only I'd known to look here three weeks ago when I was
here.  But of course, we didn't know then."

Again the Knighties thought morosely about their absent leader.  While
most of them had at first been furious with Nick for not telling them
he was alive, by now many were just plain concerned that he'd been
upset enough to omit telling his supporters.

They looked up - and up, the great Hall looming before them.  Across
the room, other tourists were collecting their headsets and recorders
for the recorded tour.  Monica started off that way, but Marcia pulled
her back.  "We don't need those, Monica.  That'll take too long.
We're here to work."

"Why don't we split up?" Karen suggested.  "Suze and I will take the
top two floors, and you three can check out the first and second
floors and the garden."

"Sounds good," the others agreed, and Karen and Suze headed off for
the stairs.  Marcia indicated the Conservatory at the end of the
building to their left.

Once the three Knighties had made their way down there, Monica looked
around with interest.  "So that one scene in 'Francesca' was filmed
here, right?"

"Right," Marcia murmured, smiling,  thinking of a different particular
scene in that episode and wondering where that was filmed - in the
studio, she supposed.

"MARCIA!" Maryann and Monica yelled at her from either side, breaking
her reverie.  "She's doing it again," Maryann added.

"I *knew* we should have brought the super-soaker," Monica added,
giggling as their driver returned from her "Nicholas Chevalier"
fantasy.

"Sorry," Marcia sighed, and waved them off to search the Conservatory.



Upstairs, Karen and Suze were exploring the Queen's Rifles exhibits.
"They sure saved a lot of stuff," Suze noted, casting a glance around
the fourth room in the exhibit.

Karen, with her fine Librarian's eye, was carefully checking every
book on one wall - mostly dusty old tomes about this or that war, but
it had been her thought that if someone had picked up Nick's book
somewhere around here, they might have thought it belonged on one of
the bookshelves..  Any old brown book of Nick's was highly likely to
resemble a "dusty old tome".

Suze was examining one of the old TQR uniforms.  "Bet Nick would look
really good in one of these uniforms," she commented.  Karen looked
over briefly and matched her grin.

"Book - we're here to find a book," Karen reminded her - and herself,
returning to her scrutiny.



The other three, having finished with the first floor, proceeded on to
the second.  "Um, Maryann," Marcia began, pausing on the staircase, "I
don't think food is allowed in here."

Hastily Maryann stuffed her package of sunflower seeds back into her
purse. "Sorry - but we skipped lunch!" she wailed.

"When we're done here we'll head over to some places I want to check
around Yonge St.," Marcia reassured her.  "The place is lousy with dog
stands."

"Oh, goody - we can eat our way across downtown like Nick did in 'The
Fix'!"

"Something like that, only it was Bay St."



"We have to go clear up there?" Karen asked uncertainly, looking into
the dismal depths of the rickety staircase leading up to the west
tower.

Suze was already tripping merrily up the narrow steps.  "Sure!  And
the view, I hear, is terrific!"

Many, many steep and nasty steps later, both Knighties were expelled
back out into the sunlight as they came out onto the tower.  "Wow,"
they both breathed together, moving toward the openings revealing the
Toronto skyline.

"Is Toronto always this hazy?" Karen asked a moment later.

"Book," Suze reminded her, tearing her gaze away from the spectacular
view.



"Nothing here," Monica reported when the three of the Lower Floors
Detail gathered again at the top of wide staircase.  "The garden is
next."

In the garden, after oohing and ahhing over the flowers, Marcia,
Maryann, and Monica spread out to surreptitiously look behind every
bush and tree and bench for the book in question.  After all, Nick
*could* have dropped it mid-flight when passing over here.


Twenty minutes later, the 3 M's and the Librarian and Suze met again
in the Hall.  "No go," Karen reported morosely.

"Nor for us either," Marcia related.  "Next stop, Yonge St."

Five minutes later, the Windstar was rolling south down Spadina.
Maryann and Monica were bouncing in the middle seat.  "Food, food!"
they called, knowing it would irritate Marcia, who had no motherly
tendencies whatsoever.  Suze from the passenger side of the front seat
tried not to laugh too hard, and Karen, in the back, ignored them,
draping her long legs along the length of the seat, enjoying having it
all to herself.

"We *are* stopping at Sanctuary, aren't we?" Karen asked innocently.
(Are Librarians innocent?  I don't think so!)

"Sanctuary, Sanctuary!" the call changed mid-breath.

"How Nick's little brown book could have gotten *there* is beyond me,"
Marcia said, rolling her eyes at Suze, who winked back.  "But Field
Marshall Cath said 'street by street search' and Queen St. West is
certainly a street Nick might, ah... well, maybe not... oh, what the
heck..."

She zig-zagged over to Bathhurst to continue their journey south.


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


Ease up Vachon, We're doing our Best.
by Pat Casey

July 28, 1996 3:00 p.m.
At the church.



"What a mess!" Pat said  "Most men just don't have an idea of what
clean should be."  She walked around the floor and studied the dust
laden objects.  "This had to be the storage area of the church since
it has all these candlesticks, broken down pews and such.  Hey, guys. 
Don't we need to organize this mess a little?  I know its not a
glamorous job, but someone's got to do it if we're going to be here a
while."

Nancy smiled.  "I'll help."  Her dark eyes and hair reminded her of
Vachon.  Wasn't she of Aztec birth or something?  How ironic she'd be
here helping to clean the church for an old Spaniard.   I guess the
Inca's willingness to work with his enemy made an impact.

"I can't stand to just wait around for something to happen," Pat said.
"It'd be best if I stay away from the food, too.  Does anyone know if
Vachon is situated for now? I'd hate to see him rage in here again.
He's not too happy that we're taking over his domicile."

"I think he's tamed for the time being," Nancy said.  "Jay! We need
your manly muscle.  You and Crystal, since she's handy, grab the other
end of that pew.  We'll put it up against the wall."  Jay nodded and
moved his 6'2 frame toward the end of the pew.

"What's that coffin in here for?" Jay asked.

"Vachon certainly doesn't use it," Jenn said.  The blue-eyed blond
pointed toward a corner bed.  "Doesn't he prefer a bed?"

"Jeremi?" Pat asked.  "Could you and Jill stack those boxes against
that wall?   Grab anyone else if you like.  Be sure to use these men
if any off them are too heavy."  Both nodded and set to work.  "That's
what I like, cooperative people.  This is a fantastic group.  Here's
other things we need to do."   Pat gave out several instructions.
"Just like home," she said.  "I have three men to keep in line, a
husband and two grown boys."

"What are you handling?" Nancy asked.

Pat grinned.  "I thought I was the barker, giving out orders."  She
laughed.  "Don't worry, I've got a handy-dandy dust rag and a bottle
of lemon oil.  That'll keep me busy."

As the industrious group did their chores, the church began to shape
up.

"Wonder if Vachon will live here now?" Cindy asked, organizing the
food center.  "He had moved in Screed's old place."

"That dump?" Debra commented.  She handed three bags of chips to
Hilary, who put them in a box with others.  "Well, I guess it was good
for Screed.  Plenty of rats."

"I hardly think that this place is rat free," Cindy said. "But sure
looks better than it did.  Hey Toni.  Are you any good with a hammer? 
Those steps could use some nails.  If there aren't any around, we'll
put them on the shopping list for tomorrow."

Toni grinned, his Italian eyes flashing.  "I can handle that."

"We even have a nurse, if anyone gets hurt.  Right Torrey?"

Torrey looked up from her chore and brushed a reddish-blond curl from
her face.  "A trauma nurse, at that," she said.

"What do we do with these?" Terry asked, loaded down with more
groceries.  Alexis, Ann, Bonnie and Gay followed with loads they had
brought up the stairs.

"Well, we'll eat good," Charlyne said.

"Chips go here," Hilary said.  "Stuff to be refrigerated goes to
Shannon.  She has to try to pack it in coolers until we get power
restored."

"Does anyone need anymore candles lit?" Bonnie asked.  The brown-
curly-haired girl of 5'4 walked though with a box of matches.  "Not
exactly sword-play or a quarterstaff, but I can handle it."

"Hey, this place looks great," Pat said.  "If my own house was this
clean, I'd be tickled.  Thanks team, and I haven't talked to all of
you.  That's you, Carla, Debra, Gay, Heather, both Lisa Maries, Laura,
Lori, McKenna, Sarah, Shannon, Sherri, Stephanie, Storm and Terry.
Did I miss anyone?  We really do make a good team, don't we?  The
other chore-doers looked up.  "I don't know any of you, but I'm
looking forward to doing battle united with you. If we work this well
in the War, we're bound to stay on top of it.  Right?"

A cheer went up through the building.  Pat grimaced.  If that didn't
upset Vachon, the Vaqueros were in the clear . . . for now.


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


A Merc Cleans Up for the Cause

by Mel Taylor (MelTaylor@aol.com)
Saturday evening, July 27th, 8:00(ish)


Merc Central was literally humming.  Mel sat in one of the public
rooms downstairs and watched the tide of  Mercs coming in, greeting
one another, making plans and finalizing plots, then going out again
on their way to their first jobs for the evening.  The air was
electric with the energy of people on a mission...or on large amounts
of caffeine and chocolate.  (It was a tough call at this point.)

Mel looked down at the laptop she cradled on her knees.  The laptop
had been a going-away/early anniversary present from Robby, who had
been amazed to find out that his normally quiet, semi-introverted wife
had signed up to be a Mercenary in a War.   The computer held all of
her plans for her first job as a Mercenary,  the names, phone numbers,
and e-mail addresses of her spies and fellow Mercenaries, and a
multitude of other documents (all safely encrypted *and* protected by
a password) that would be useful in this War.

The screensaver vanished when Mel touched a key.  She typed in a few
keystrokes and opened the last letter she d received from her
employer. Everything was going according to their plans.  She checked
her watch one more time, then powered down the laptop.

It was time to get ready.

"How are things?"

Mel looked up and smiled at Kira and Sonja.  "Fine, so far."

"Were you able to clear up that conflict of interest with the
Nick&NatPackers?" Kira asked.

"I'm not sure," Mel replied.  "I'm still waiting to hear from them."

"Are you nervous about your job?"  Sonja queried.

"A little," Mel admitted, standing up and tucking the laptop under her
arm. You never know when complications are going to pop up.

Kira nodded in agreement.  "Look, here's  my pager number."   She
handed Mel a business card.   "If things get weird, find a phone, page
me, and Sonja and I will come meet you."

"Thanks!"  Mel tucked the card into her pocket.  "Wish me luck."

Kira crossed her fingers and held up her hand.     "Go get 'em."

"Make 'em pay a lot,"  Sonja added with a wide smile.

*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*

After parking the dark blue rental car and making sure she'd left the
trunk unlatched, Mel fell into step behind a cluster of people heading
for the Raven.   The folks in front of her were dressed in jeans and
dark t-shirts with  Spic-N-Span Cleaning Service  printed in white
across the back.

Perfect.  She'd been told the Raven was closed to the public but that
people would be going in and out while renovations were underway.
She slipped through the door behind the cleaning crew and paused long
enough to pick up an unattended push broom and dustpan.  If anyone
happened to notice the lack of lettering on her t-shirt, she would at
least have the proper tools in hand.

Her spy had informed her that the merchandise she needed was behind
the bar. Glancing casually at the people who milled about, Mel headed
for her target.


The hair on the back of her neck stirred.  Mel swallowed hard and kept
going. She d been told LaCroix would not be near the Raven tonight.
Why was she getting this weird, prickly-skinned feeling?  Was a
vampire somewhere close by?    She glanced over her shoulder and
spotted a knot of people near the door.  They had to be Ravenettes----
who else would dress so stylishly in head-to-toe black?  A couple of
them were watching her.

<Time to sweep,> Mel thought, and did just that.  She maneuvered her
way behind the bar, still sweeping industriously.

One of the cabinet doors stood partly open, revealing the edges of two
wooden crates.  Mel crouched down, carefully slid one crate out a
little, and peered inside.  The wine bottles were a dark and lovely
green.  The labels affixed to the front were cream parchment
inscribed with fading, graceful script.

LaCroix's special stock.

Success!

Biting back a yelp of glee, Mel straightened up and saw that everyone
in the club was busy with their own tasks.  A tall young man from
Spic-N-Span was sauntering by and pulling a partly-loaded cart behind
him.

"Hey," Mel called quietly.  "Is that headed for the trash?"

"Yeah," the young man replied.  "You need to add something?"

"I sure do," Mel said.  "How about just leaving the cart; I'll take it
out back."

"Great," he replied.  "You ll save me a trip."

Mel smiled and pulled the cart behind the bar.  She slid the two
crates onto the cart, then draped an empty trash bag over them.  She
pulled several empty cardboard boxes from behind the bar and put them 
on top of the covered crates for good measure.

<That was easy,> Mel thought as she pulled the cart to the back door. 
<Too easy.>

She halfway expected to hear running footsteps behind her as she
carried the two crates to her car and stowed them in the trunk.
Behind the wheel once more, she reached under the seat and touched the
laptop for reassurance.

The hard part was over.  All she had to do was find the church,
deliver the wine to her employer, and collect her payment.

Those Godiva truffles were going to taste wonderful...unless  the
Ravenettes or the Nick&NatPackers hunted her down before she could
enjoy her payment.

*+*+*
end


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


Knight Prowls (2/2)
by Marcia Tucker
with clearance from Knighties Maryann Jorgensen, Karen Tobin, Monica
Vasquez, Suze Campagna, Marg Yamanaka, and L. Katherine Queen.  I beg
for leniency regarding any outrageous liberties taken with Toronto
locations - all my Casa Loma info and other stuff is traveling in the
trunk of my car somewhere between Chicago and Sandusky, Ohio at the
moment.

Day: Sunday, July 28, 1996
Time: 4:00 pm


Queen St. West and Clairemont Rd.  The famed "flying skeleton blowing
a horn" logo on the side of the white brick building.  Sanctuary. "It
looks dead," Monica observed, and the rest of the Knighties dissolved
into laughter.

"Book," Marcia and Karen said together a moment later, sobering first.
The club did look dead, though.  Locked tight.  For lease signs on two
sides.

"Onward," Marcia declared, turning the van around.



"Why are we parking on Bay St.?" queried Karen.

"Yeah, there's a parking garage at Eaton Centre," Suze observed,
pointing across the street.

"Time.  Money," explained their driver.  "Dog stands," she added to
divert attention satisfactorily, herding them down Edward St. toward
Yonge.

Which was a colossal mistake, she noted almost immediately, but the
damage was done.  "Just one hour in here," Karen drooled, stopping
outside The World's Biggest Bookstore.

An hour later, a happy Librarian in tow, the Knighties emerged onto
Yonge St, blinking.  "Swords!" Maryann squealed, and vanished off to
the left, heading for Sam, the Record Man's place.  Or rather, the
vendor on the corner.

Marcia tried to call after her to tell her she'd already gotten her a
replacement sword necklace in June, but Maryann was across the street
by then.  "Dog stands?" Monica queried, trying to sound helpful.

Intrepid Van Driver gestured helplessly in Maryann's direction.  "I'll
go after her!  Let's all split up - and remember we're looking for
Nick's book!!!  The dog stands are closer to Eaton Centre," she
pointed south.  "And word to the wise - do NOT try the veggie dogs!
Meet in front of HMV in two hours!"



Knighties hunted as only Knighties can, doggedly, thoroughly, only
occasionally distracted (Nicholby's - hoo, hah!), leaving no
storefront unlooked.  From The Bay department store, through the what,
four-five floors of Eaton Centre, all the way down to BCE Place on
Front St. (get Marcia out of there?  Good luck! You KNOW "TGVP" is her
favorite ep!).  No book.  No brown dusty old tome of bank numbers and
other Nick info crucial to the financial and professional dealings of
one male vampire whom they were longing to see for themselves.

They'd been on the hunt for a good four hours now, tired, but not
thirsty, as the group had made sure that Maryann had been kept
supplied with Diet Coke and Marcia with lemonade.  Having met back at
the blue facade of HMV and compared notes, the Knighties contemplated
their next area to search.

At the same time, Marcia spotted two figures exiting Nicholby's across
the street. "Well, I think it's time for Knightie reinforcements," she
said eagerly to the others, then called out, "Kath!  Marg!  Over
here!"

The figures, one tall with long, light brown hair, the other shorter
with short, dark brown hair, turned as one, then waved eagerly.
"Marci!" they shouted, then carefully made their way across Yonge St.
traffic to the others.  There was a happy Knightie reunion for a
minute, then the newcomers were informed of their progress.

"Cool," Katherine Queen, the taller one, declared, "I'm for helping!"

"And I'm for helping, too," enthusiastically declared the other,
Toronto-resident Marg Yamanaka.  "What streets have you covered?"

"Just Yonge and Edward."

A gleam arose in Marg's eye.  Another opportunity to share information
about her fair city to eager American FK fans!  "Okay, Dundas is down
there - we still have Elm, Walton, and Gerrard Sts. to do and there's
a few side streets that are dead ends.  And there's Bay, and we can
work our way over to..."

Grinning, the Knighties let Marg plot out their next search detail.



Later, the seven were ready to call it a day.  The book was nowhere to
be found.
"What about the Raven?" Suze asked.

Knightie eyes lighted up not completely unlike first season Forever
Knight vampire eyes.  "Let's have a look," Marcia said, beckoning them
to head back to the Bay St. parking lot.


Minutes later, the Windstar was driving slowly down Richmond St.  Upon
nearing the club in question, the searchers noted with widened eyes
that there were about four or five delivery vans ranging around the
club on both sides of the street.  People were moving in and out,
carrying various packages.

Marcia hit the brakes.  She'd spotted a Raven friend of hers, one
Michael Wayne Jackson, to be exact.  "I don't want the
Raven/Ravenettes to see us yet," she explained to the startled
Knighties.  Cautiously she backed up the van, then turned it around.

"The Ravens and Ravenettes have taken over the Raven again!" Monica
exclaimed for them all as the Windstar came to a stop a block away.
For a few minutes all chatted eagerly about the possibilities.

One by one, they fell silent.  Again, as so often during this day,
each Knightie wondered mightily about Nick - where he was, how he was,
and what was going on with him.  All were deeply concerned - some
still upset with him, some resigned to his decision, some just wanting
to hug him until everything was okay - even though everything might
never be okay with this particular vampire named Nick Knight.

Marcia broke the silence.  "It's time we went back to the loft and
reported in," she said.  "We'll tell Cath and Perri about the Raven
and see what they want to do."

The Windstar headed for the warehouse district.


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


For Your Viewing Pleasure...2/2
by: Cousin Candice
time: Sunday afternoon

Candice zoomed around in her new trade-in Viper (ahh the perks of
working for HBO) just begging for a ticket.  In fact, she had probably
passed a few of the target-sites already, but there were no cops in
sight.  Odd.

She stopped at a red light and scanned the corner stores for a printer
-preferably Kinko's.  And there it was!  She couldn't believe her
luck. Candice pulled over to the right, grabbed her bag and hurried
into the store.

A rustling of magazine pages and the guilty stricken look on the
clerk's face told Candice all she needed to know.  She hid a grin and
tried to look desperate.

"Excuse me, do you think you could help me?  I've got ..well a unique
problem."

"Well I could try, so ..uuh, wassamatta?"

Candice threw her backpack up onto the counter and pulled out her lap-
top.

"*This* hunk of junk is what's the matter.   See I was just grabbing
the information from the flyer the museum sent out to us for
tomorrow's morning edition and my lap-top crashed and died."

"Flyer?"

"Yeah, you know -for the Brabant exhibit tomorrow?"

"Um, okay, so what do you want *me* to do about it?"

"Well I called the museum this morning and they said you guys did
their printing for them and had all the information on hand.

"Well yeah, but.."

"Can't you just look it up for me?  Please?"

Candice was starting to get annoyed with this clown and entertained
the idea of just tying him up while she got the invitations herself,
briefly.  But the thought of LaCroix mad at her for drawing attention
to the mission was enough to keep Candice docile ... just enough.

"Look,  aren't these thkngs supposed to be networked?"

The clerk brightened at that; it was true that they were supposed to
be networked to save time and money so customers could pick up
merchandise anywhere.  That meant less work for him which meant he
could get back to his "reading"...

"Alright, let me see what I can do.  What was it you said you needed?"

Candice grinned like a cat who had just spotted a bird with a broken
wing.

"Well I was hoping you could pull up the information on the Museum's
invitation...."

A few keypunches later the clerk shouted triumphantly:"Got it!  Okay
so do you. like, just want me to read it out to you or what?"

"Well I was kinda hoping you could print out three or four copies of
the invitation itself.  My boss would *KILL* me if I got the
information wrong, and there's a whole bunch of other people working
on this assign...er...article, so could you print it out?"

The clerk looked skeptical.

It was time to get rash.

Candice hopped over the counter and grabbed the magazine the clerk ahd
been reading.  She noticed in that brief second that a desk drawer had
been pried open and was full of other such magazines.  She grabbed the
mousy little clerk by his tie and glowered at him.

"Listen you little pissant.  If I don't get this information right,
I'm screwed.  In turn I'll screw you -having a little fun with your
boss's dirty magazines?" She waggled the thing in her left hand off to
the side.  Ther clerk grabbed for it, but Candice pushed him back down
into his chair in front of the PowerMac all Kinko's were so fond of.

"I'll make you wish you had never learned how to use a pen-knife to
open locks."  She turned the rolling chair around to face the screen.

"Now print."  She pointed to the open file.

Ten minutes later, Candice was headed down Bloor to CERK with five
invitations.  She arrived at the station around 12:30 and was passed
by a number of cars full of Cousins -none of which she recognized.
She would have to remedy that.

She spotted two stragglers -Cherri and Will.  What luck!  Two faces
she DID recognize.  Candice parked and jumped out of the car to greet
them.

"Hi guys!"  She embraced both of them -group hugs were always the
best.

Candice smiled and Cherri looked at her doubtfully.

"You've got that look on your face, Candice -what ever have you done
now?"

Candice turned to Cherri and pulled out the hot-off-the-presses
invitations to the museum's exhibit.  Will was openly surprised.

"Where'd you steal those from?  The Knighties?"  Will pulled one from
her hand to study it.

"No, these were aquired perfectly honestly, Cousin's Honor.  So d'you
guys wanna go or what?"

"Hell yes!  I've even got something nice to wear!"  Cherri smiled then
turned to Will, "you're going to have to wear a suit, ya know."

"Not like that's any change..." Will mumbled.  Candice ruffled his
hair a bit.

"And besides, it's the perfect place to search for that book of
Nick's."

"How'd you know about that?"

"I was here earlier this morning -I saw it in a memo.  So I'll see you
guys there?"

"Sure thing -7p.m. sharp."

"Keen!"  Candice went to stick the remaining 2 invitations on the
bulletin board inside CERK.  That done, she headed back to her hotel
to get some more cash -it was time to go shopping.

***

Alright -those 2 invites are up for grabs, that is if you haven't
already surpassed the show -afterall, it IS Wednesday, and I'm still
on Sunday...oiy.


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


DON'T DO ME LIKE THAT
The Old Church
~ 6pm, Sunday, July 28th

by Bonnie Pardoe
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Vachon paced in the floor like a caged panther.  He'd been holed up in
the basement all day -- avoiding the strangers who had invaded his
church.  He took another slug from the bottle of blood he was
carrying.  \\Why the hell do they all have to stay here?  All they
ever do is complain about the cobwebs and the lack of showers,
anyway.\\

Vachon continued to pace.  He was itching for the sun to set -- he
wanted out, but dusk was still hours away.  He drained the bottle,
then, in frustration, threw it against the wall, shattering the green
glass.

Vachon suddenly stopped, cocked his head slightly, and then tucked his
long, dark hair behind his ear.  With his vampire hearing, he picked
up a voice --a clear, beautiful voice.  It was like an angel.  He
moved up the stairs like a rat following the Pied Piper's flute.  The
voice entranced him.  He walked, almost floated like a specter, down
the nave of the church, drawn to the old choir room behind the alter.

The vampire opened the door silently and slipped inside.  He leaned
against the closed door, then slid quietly to the floor.  The dark-
haired angel, who had not noticed Vachon's arrival, continued to sing.

     Ave Maria, gratia plena,
     Dominus tecum, benedicta tu,
     in mulieribus, et benedictus,
     fructus ventris, tui Jesus

Her voice was the loveliest he had heard in centuries.  He waited
quietly until she finished, but then he could not restrain himself any
longer. "Wonderful!"

Bonnie turned, startled.  "Wha--?"  She sighed, "Oh, it's you.  You
startled me."

"I heard you singing and--"

"I'm sorry.  I didn't mean to disturb you.  I can go somewhere else."
Bonnie's tone was flat as she began to gather up her sheet music.

"No, it was heavenly."

"That's an interesting phrase coming from you."

Vachon stared at the young woman for a long while before he walked
over toward her.  Just a foot away, he reached out to her.  She turned
her head, but he caught on of her curls.  "My little sister had hair
like yours."  He caressed the brown ringlet between his fingers.

After a moment, Bonnie regained her senses.  \\It was weird what being
next to one of these guys can do to you.\\

"Are you always this sullen?"

Bonnie raised one of her fine eyebrows at the vampire.  "Sullen?"

"Well, you're angry at me for something.  I don't even know your name,
how can I possibly have done anything to piss you off?"

"My name's Bonnie."

He gave her a small but pleasant smile -- the first smile he had had
for anyone in quite a while.

"So?  What's wrong, mi dulcea Bonnela?"  He stared at her from beneath
his brown bangs.

"Nothing."  She turned her back to him, then took a deep breath and
sighed. "It's just...."  Bonnie turned to face him again.  "You could
have killed that poor woman last night."  Unbidden tears were welling
up in her eyes. \\This is not good for my voice!\\ she reminded
herself as she tried to fight them.

Vachon put a cool hand on her shoulder.  "I don't even remember it.  I
didn't attack her on purpose -- it was pure instinct."

Bonnie nodded her head and moved away from Vachon.  She started
putting her music back into it's folder.  Vachon stopped her hands
with his.  "Please don't -- your voice was really lovely."  He glanced
down at the sheet caught between their hands -- it was 'The Long And
Winding Road' by the Beatles. "Do you know this one?"

She nodded, unconsciously bouncing her curls again.

Vachon dashed out of the room and returned in a heartbeat, baring his
guitar.  He raised his eyebrows at her as he sat down.  He softly
began to play the first few measures.


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


Strikeforce Maureen Strikes (1/3)
by Christina Kamnikar, with the Mercenary Guild & Maureen the Mad

6:32 PM, Sunday, July 28th, on the way to the CN Tower

Ride of the Valkyries blasted out of the speakers as the oversized RV
took a corner on two wheels. Swearing could be heard from inside the
vehicle, accompanies by various thumps.

"Why didn't we get the 'Bago suspension fixed since last time?"

"Why don't I get to drive?"

"Why does Lane get to wear the mustache?"

"Why can't you all SHUT UP?!?" Abby yanked on the wheel, and half of
Strikeforce Maureen went slamming across the RV into the other half.
"The 'Bago didn't get fixed 'cause it wasn't a priority, no one else
gets to drive because I'm in charge of this part of the Strike, and
Lane gets the mustache because he's the fastest, and he grabbed it
first. Happy?"

"No."

"Ow."

"Are we there yet?"

"Yes." Abby brought the 'Bago to a halt in the parking lot in front of
the CN tower, put it in park, then turned to survey the team. "Okay,
are we all clear on who's on which part? Do you all have your Merc
pins on you?"

"I still want to be one of the cops," Lisa Reeves complained, glaring
at Dawn and Darkangel. "Why don't I get a uniform?"

"Because Darkangel has more experience on strikeforces, and Dawn made
a case to Chris and Dianne for putting cuffs on Maureen. And if anyone
else asks me any more questions beginning with 'why', they can wait in
here. Is that understood?" At the chorus of "yeah"'s, Abby let out a
breath, pushed up her glasses and surveyed the team. All of them were
costumed, most were unrecognizable, and all had earpieces and mini-
microphones on. "Okay, sound check outside. Then I want Phases One,
Two and Three to get in place." Abby hit the button which unlocked the
ramp for Liz the Lucky's chair, and checked her watch. Less than an
hour until the Strike, give or take a few minutes.

After all, it would be rude to kidnap Maureen and Jamie and Sue and
Chris before dessert.


Christina hid her smile in her napkin, and innocently asked, "How's
the angel-hair pasta, Maureen?" just for the fun of watching the
former Grand High Poohbah force herself to be polite to her. Jamie
shot Chris a warning glance, and the Mercenary General repentantly
passed Maureen the breadbasket after the Natpacker stiffly requested
it.

Well, she and Jamie *had* sort of invited themselves to dinner. So
Maureen had cause to be a little irritated with her. And the Scully
look-alike was obviously trying to set a good example, and live up to
Natpacker standards, in front of her new protege, Sue Roth. Sue wasn't
catching the undercurrents present at the table, but Jamie was kicking
Chris in the shin every five minutes, because Chris kept asking
Maureen how she was enjoying life at the Natpack, and had she seen
Natalie lately, and gee, didn't she miss the Guild at all?

"Cut it out," Jamie whispered to Christina. "I _mean_ it. I'll fix it
so you're no-list for a month, not just a week!"

"I swear, I had no idea they'd be here."

"Yeah, right. You're still no-list for a week, Chris."


Jamie had hired Christina, her personal Merc Mommy and the Mercenary
General of the Guild, to protect her from possible kidnapping attempts
at the beginning of the War. "It's unbelievable. I've heard from two
different factions who want to take me away from the Natpack. I think
they're assuming that because I'm the Web Goddess, having me with
their faction will give them an edge. You've got to make sure it
doesn't happen."


Which put Chris in a weird position, since she was supposed to be
*planning* Jamie's kidnap as Merc General. Having talked it over with
Dianne, she was pretty sure she could both fulfill her contract and
her duties as General. But it would take some effort, and some fancy
footwork. And there was a strong possibility that she'd have to cheat
at some point.


Right now, she was settling for not letting Jamie out of her sight
along with some other precautions, and arranging Maureen's Guild-
approved kidnap from the CN Tower. As well as the grabbing of Sue
Roth, innocent new Natpacker, for another party altogether. Keeping
all her plans straight was starting to give her a headache, so as a
requirement for the grab, she'd decided to treat herself and Jamie to
a really good meal at the CN Tower. Especially since she was pretty
sure Jamie was going to miss her KISS concert... well, Jamie had said
she wasn't going!

The trip up the Tower was why she (theoretically) was no-list for a
week. Jamie didn't believe their 'accidental' meeting of Sue and
Maureen wasn't a set-up, because Jamie wasn't stupid. And the
WebGoddess was more than a little bit mad that Chris had gotten her
onto a glass elevator that went up as high as the restraunt on top of
the CN Tower did, without warning her. The Illustrated former Cousin
had this thing about heights....

"I had no idea it would be glass."

"Your lips are moving, but I ain't buying."


Maureen had decided to take Sue out to dinner at the CN Tower because
the newest Natpacker was feeling a little left out of things at
Natalie's. Well, it wasn't her fault, and she'd get adjusted soon, but
right now, the core members of the 'Pack had known each other for so
long that the newbies were having a hard time keeping up.


So Maureen and Sue had put on their dressiest outfits and planned an
evening of decadent fun: the CN Tower restraunt, the Stratford
festival, and possibly drinks at the Raven afterward. It would give
Sue an idea of what Toronto was like, and give her a chance to get her
feet wet.

The Mercenary spy at the Natpack had been happy to inform the MMG of
Maureen's whereabouts; and that was when the whole, beautiful plan
made itself clear.


"Are you going to have dessert?" Sue asked, looking wistfully at the
dessert tray laden with chocolate torte and cheesecake, then glancing
back at Maureen. The former Merc's face screwed up in consideration as
she debated the possible effects of the chocolate on her red silk
dress if it got spilled; and the fact that she'd already spent more
time with Christina than she wanted to. Nothing against Chris
personally, but Maureen *knew* that the Merc was up to something.  She
knew that look; it was the same one Chris had worn right before she
explained about the necessity of the CERK hijacking last time. Devious
innocence. Unbelievable mischief. Merc insanity.

"Well..."

"Oh, come on, Mo, they've got Hot Fudge Brownie Sundaes," Jamie
cajoled. "With chocolate chip cookies for dipping in them."

"Oh, yum." Sue licked her lips.

"I guess you're right," Maureen capitulated.

They were just finishing up dessert, and the waiter was bringing them
the bill, when Maureen got her first clue that something was wrong.
The waiter presenting the bill, and discussing the wine charges with
Christina, was *not* the same waiter they'd had all evening. He was
younger, and thinner, and taller; and he looked oddly familiar.

"Is there something wrong, madam?" He asked. Which was when Maureen
got it.

She recognized his voice; he'd been on the CERK striketeam last
October. Berg, that was it. He'd dyed his hair, and those had to be
colored contact lenses, and there were probably lifts in his shoes,
but it was definitely him. "No, no. Nothing. Um. I have to... go
powder my nose. Sue, wanna come with me?" Maureen made a desperate
expression at Sue, her back to Christina and Berg, and grabbed her
purse as she pushed back her chair. The other Natpacker caught on
quick, rising to her feet as Maureen stood up. "Jamie, why don't you
come with us? You... need to brush your hair. It's sliding out of the
braids."

"It is?" Jamie asked in confusion, one hand going up to check the four
or five braids of her blonde-and-brown mane. Christina was frowning by
now, but Maureen didn't care; grabbing Jamie's wrist and pulling her
along, she shot a quick smile at Chris as the Natpackers left the
table.

"We'll be back in a second to help with the bill."


Chris grinned as Maureen and the others retreated. "Good. She's been
spooked. You can go change into your other costume now."

"Uhh, actually," Berg shifted is weight from one foot to the other,
then blurted out, "Dianne wants me to keep you here."

"Don't be silly.  I have to see Maureen get caught," Chris said
impatiently.

"Dianne's a little worried about your... loyalties." Berg shrugged
helplessly at the MMG's glare. "She thinks you've been hanging out
with Jamie and her Natpacker friends too much. So you have to stay
here."

"Oh, really?" No sense in arguing with a Merc under orders. Chris
grabbed the champagne bottle and sprayed Berg in the face with it,
then dropped it and ran to the Ladies Room.

To be continued


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


Strikeforce Maureen Strikes! (2/3)
by Christina Kamnikar with the Mercenary Guild and Maureen the Mad

CN Tower layout by Pure Mythology, Inc., a subdivision of Wild Guesses
Corporation

Sunday, 7:38 PM, the CN Tower Restraunt


Chris slammed open the Ladies Room door, glared at both Maureen and
Sue, then snapped, "C'mon, Jamie. We're outta here."

"Was that Berg out there, dressed up as a waiter?" Jamie asked, arms
folded across her chest. Maureen just glowered at the Mercenary Mommy
General while Sue blithely reapplied blusher. Strangely, the MMG
seemed to be glaring at hardest at the young Natpacker.

"Yes, it was. And yes, Maureen, you're about to be grabbed." Chris
shrugged, her mouth still set in a grim line. "Unfortunately, so are
Jamie and I. Dianne double-crossed me. Or maybe she didn't *trust* me.
I don't know which. But it's time to go, the Strikeforce is already in
place."

"I'm not leaving Maureen," Jamie protested, digging in her heels, "and
we can't just leave Sue to the Guild's mercies, either."

"We can and we are. Maureen, you could've hired me to prevent this,
you know," Christina tossed over her shoulder as she dragged Jamie
back out into the restraunt, leaving a furious Maureen and confused
Sue to follow her.

"You're not ditching me *that* easily, Christina," Maureen called as
she and Sue ran through the restraunt after the fleeing Merc and her
client, figuring that if Chris set this up, Chris knew a way out of
the trap.  Their flight was abruptly curtailed when their quarry got
onto the elevator, Jamie protesting all the way and trying to unpeel
her Merc Mommy's fingers from her wrist as the doors closed between
them.


"Damnit," Mo snarled. This was a nightmare. Time to call for backup.
Sue didn't deserve to get caught in the crossfire of what was
undoubtedly going to be a very messy chase. Maybe she'd become a
Natpacker, but not all of Maureen's flight instincts had been
surgically removed. She'd been a Merc first, and that meant a healthy
sense of self-preservation.  The former GHP headed for the public
telephone near the bank of elevators, only to have her way abruptly
blocked by a tall cowboy in an Australian duster.

"Excuse me, this is an emergency," she said, tapping the tall man on
the shoulder, hoping that he'd be kind enough to get out of the way.
Turning around, the tourist leaned against the wall, telephone in his
ear, and said, "Well, that is a shame. I've been told to make this
phone call now, ladies. Can't do anything about it." He grinned. It
was a familiar grin, even though the man was total stranger.

Maureen's eye fell on a small, distinctive gold pin on the lapel of
his jacket: a dollar sign with crossed swords. Her eyes flew back to
his face as she took a step backward, and his grin widened. The grin
of a hunter sensing prey. Or a rat after some cheese.

Mo grabbed Sue's hand and ran for the EXIT sign over the stairwell.


John Ewan hung up the phone on his spurious phone call, and spoke into
his mini-mike hidden in the Merc affiliation pin. "They're headed for
the stairwell.  Lane, you're on."  Jauntily, he went back to the
elevator bay whistling, looking forward to the upcoming chase.

Maybe these Mercs knew how to have fun after all. John hadn't been too
sure... Lizbet was the only one he perceived as having a compatible
mindset so far; but Christina's planning of this grab had convinced
him that this faction had been the right one to throw in his fortunes
with. Well, that, and Dianne & Christina telling him that they'd
revived Screed.

The Lone Ratpacker headed for the showdown.


As Maureen and Sue went clattering down the one and only stairwell to
the bottom of the CN tower, Mo was aware that perhaps this was a
mistake. There were as trapped in this enclosed stairway as they would
be in an elevator. Why *had* she wanted to have dinner here, anyway?

Two floors down they almost knocked over a janitor sweeping up the
landing, head bent over the broom as he cleared the top steps of the
next flight. "'Scuse me ladies, but you can't go down there---"

"But we have to!" Sue yelled. Then she stopped. "Uh, Maureen, who are
these guys who are after us, anyway?"

Maureen the Mad didn't answer. Once, yes, she could see that, twice,
even; but this third time, no Merc was going to fool her. "Lane, damn
you, where did you get that mustache?"

The Newbie Wrangler leaned on his broom and grinned. "Central Casting
Stores, of course. Dianne thought it was a nice touch. Why don't you
just give up now? You *know* what will happen if you try to get by
me."

Oh, did she ever. Lane was a brown belt in karate or judo or
something; and Maureen remembered the damage he'd done during the CERK
raid in War #5. No, no sense in getting her arms broken.

But Natpackers do not give up. Letting her shoulders slump, Maureen
took one step forward, then pivoted and pushed Sue toward the landing
doorway, kicking backward and sending a shoe into Lane's face as she
ran. He dodged it easily, but it gave the two women the time they
needed to get out of the stairwell and lock the door.

The second the door closed, Lane grinned and said aloud, "Liz--- Mo
and Sue are headed your way."



Meanwhile, on that glass elevator...

"Make it stop, make it stop, noooooooooooooooo...." Jamie was having
the expected hysterics as the elevator descended; they were halfway
down now, but she'd already managed to rip Chris's barette out of her
hair, step on her feet several times, and inflicted several scratches
on her arms before Christina managed to get her hands over the
WebGoddess's eyes.

"Better?"

"No." A hiccup. "We have to go back!"

"There is no 'back' back there. They're not going to hurt her, or maim
her, or anything, Jamie. You know that." The MMG sighed heavily as her
charge relaxed. "Look, we'll get down to the lobby, and we'll be fine.
We'll grab a cab, and you can go to the KISS concert. Okay?"

Jamie groaned. "No, it's not okay. But I don't have a choice now, do
I?"


Maureen kicked off her odd shoe, and explained the circumstances to
Sue as they ran. The tall blonde newcomer was gasping for air as they
went skidding and sliding around a corner of the hallway.

"They want to take me back for trial. Sort of like having the KGB
after you for war crimes, or something. I told you some of this
before."

"But why?" Sue shook her head as they came within sight of the
elevator bay. "You have the right to change affiliations if you want
to!"

"Once a Merc, always a Merc," Maureen said darkly, hitting the
elevator button. "They're like the Mafia... just when I thought I was
out, they pull me back in!"

On that note, the elevator doors opened to reveal a pale redhead in a
wheelchair, wearing a helmet enblazoned with the Mercenary Coat of
Arms. "Surprise, Maureen," Liz the Lucky chirped, letting go with her
garlic perfume watergun, sending the erstwhile GHP skidding to the
floor. The lack of shoes and expensive silk hose had her fighting to
regain her feet, a hopeless task on her own; but Sue stepped in,
yanked the Natpacker to her feet, then steadied her as they fled.

Liz maneuvered her way out of the elevator, then had to adjust her
speed (the wheelchair goes slow, or it goes very very very fast, and
it needs some work) to continue her pursuit. She spoke into her mini-
mike: "Got 'em where we want them!"


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


He Who Seeks The Truth...
By: Scott J. Hauenstein (Mulder1)
7/28/96    8:19 p.m.



"Damn, where was he?  He was supposed to meet me here a half-hour
ago!!" I said aloud to no one in particular as a slight chill ran down
my spine.  This evening seemed a little chillier than usual for the
season, and the breeze, along with my nasty habit of expecting the
worst, was not helping me feel any more patient.

I was to meet a contact in a park near the N&NPackers' Headquarters
that I was hinted could help us find Nick and Nat before they became
vulnerable to opposing forces.  When time continue to pass and no one
had arrived, I began to fear that I had been set up by someone out to
sabotage our efforts.  My rampant paranoia getting away with me?
Perhaps, but waiting in this park in the dark was not helping.

I also felt bad that I had to keep this from the other N&NPackers
until I met with the contact; Soulseeker (or Scully, as I sometimes
liked to call her as an in-joke) looked concerned as I told her that I
had to step out for a moment.  I didn't give anyone a chance to ask me
where I was headed, not what I was going to do when I got there.  But
they would know in time..

I was getting fed up fast.  I was about ready to head back when I
heard a voice:

"Giving up so easily, Mr. Hauenstein?  Certainly your cause means more
to you than you let on!"

"I have been waiting for over half an hour!!  In case you haven't
noticed, it's not exactly safe for me to be roaming about alone!  The
Cousins are probably aching to come after me after what we did to
them..."  I responded angrily.

"Yes, I heard.  Congratulations,"  The older man said as he stepped
into what little light there was in that area of the park.  "But your
victory is small in comparison to what you will need to accomplish in
the coming days. This is only the beginning..."

"Right. Now, are you going to get down to it, please?"  I interrupted.
"Time is of the essence."

"Indeed it is, Mr. Hauenstein.  You're inquiring into the whereabouts
of Nicholas Knight and Natalie Lambert?"

"Yes...We need to locate them and take them out of harm's way," I
replied impatiently.

"You may be too late for that, my friend," the man responded.

"WHAT?!?  Why do you say that?  What do you know?  TELL ME!"  I
screamed, reaching out to grab the mystery man.

He grabbed my arm and twisted it behind my back.  "Are you through
ranting, Mr. Hauenstein, or would you like to let everyone in Toronto
know of your problems?"

"Let go of me!!" I wrenched myself away from him and straightened my
trench coat.  "You better start giving me some answers, you son of a--
-"

"I'm not here to help you cheat, Mr. Hauenstein.  War is not a game,
as you well know.  Nick and Natalie will be safe as soon as you
investigate the other factions.  They know more than you think.  It
may be to your advantage to find a way to tap into their
communications, or, keep an eye on them to say how they act, where
they go, what they do when not striking against you.  Look past the
without and toward the within..."

"What?!?  Listen, "Obi-Wan", I didn't sit out here freezing my butt
off to hear riddles!"

"Then you will fail, for truth is often hidden in riddle.  You do want
the truth, don't you?"

"Yes," I answered simply.

"Then do with the information I gave you what you will.  And, I might
suggest that, should you choose to ignore this search, that you be
merciless and QUICK.  Good evening, Mr. Hauenstein,"  with that, the
older man began to walk away.

"Wait!!  Where do I start?  Where do I go?"  I asked after him.

"You're not the only N&NPacker here.  Consult with others.  Tell them
what I have told you."

"What if I need to contact you again?"

"You will not be able to.  I will reach you,"  the mystery man said as
he began to walk away.  He stopped once more and turned.  "One more
thing, sir: Soulseeker may be in more danger than you think.  Keep her
close to you and the others.  Evil is never far behind..."

Before I could say anything more, the man disappeared.  I stood still
at first, too shocked to move.  Then I turned and broke into the
quickest run I could muster back to N&NPacker HQ.

I burst into the room, much to the alarm of Chana, Idalia, and the
others.  "Where's Laura?  I've got to find her!!" I yelled, out of
breath.

Chana looked at me with growing concern.  "Why? What's happened?"

"Nothing yet, I hope.  But she and all of us may be in danger!!!"


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


Strikeforce Maureen Strikes! (3/3)
                Mission Accomplished, Ms. Mercenaire
by Christina Kamnikar with the Mercenary Guild and Maureen the Mad

And again... CN Tower layout is completely, utterly, undeniably
fictional

8:45 PM, Sunday, July 28th, CN Tower

The situation was beginning to look hopeless (not to mention slightly
ridiculous), as Maureen and Sue ducked down one more side corridor--
slowly gaining ground from Liz the Lucky, whose erratic stops and
starts didn't make her the best person to track them through twisting
office corridors.

Then Maureen spotted the door. It was right in front of them. It was
big. It was glass. And there was an external staircase, rickety,
slender, but real. The view through the glass showed a beautiful vista
of freedom, right on the other side of the door.

And it was locked.

Slamming her shoulder into it, Maureen cursed loudly and fluently.
Sue, managing to keep her cool rather well for a newbie, paused,
pushed sweat-streaked blonde hair out of her face, and looked around
them desperately. The corridor was a dead end, the Mercs could be
heard not far behind, and they were trapped against a glass door
showing them the dark Toronto night.

Maureen was about to grab the fire ax off the wall and break the down
the door when Abby came down the staircase and stood outside of it,
grinning. The Spymaster was in her combat outfit, and she was just
waiting for them to try it.

"We're being herded," Maureen realized. "They want us to go in certain
direction... Dianne is probably waiting at the end, just to taunt me
with this."

Sue slumped against the wall. "We're sunk."

Maureen's mouth thinned, and her eyes got that maniacal Scully glow.
"Not yet we're not." Instead of grabbing the axe, she pulled down on
the T-bar fire alarm. Sirens whooped; sprinklers began to spray; and
the door automatically unlocked. Abby's look of surprise was
priceless. The former GHP barreled into her, knocking her backward
into the upper staircase as she and Sue went galloping down the
rickety stairs.


The damn glass elevator kept stopping. And starting. And now the fire
alarm was going off. Christina was still mentally fuming about
Dianne's treachery, well-intentioned though it may have been. If the
GHP took this to its unnatural conclusion, not only might Chris and
Jamie be on trial as well as Maureen, but this might seriously
interfere with her upcoming job.

Jamie was humming KISS songs under her breath to calm herself down
from the vertigo caused by the stop-start-stop start of the elevator.
It started again, and she hummed more loudly. Chris was feeling pretty
badly about this, and sincerely hoped Jenny and Sharon never found out
about this evening and what a rotten time Jamie had.

Of course, Jamie was probably going to extend the No-List penalty into
the next century by this point; unless, unless... a brilliant plan, a
stroke of genius, about how to get back in Jamie's good graces occured
to Christina.

"Jamie, if you stop humming, I'll take you on my job tonight," Chris
wheedled persuasively.  Jamie turned her head blindly toward Chris,
since her Merc Mommy still had her hands over her eyes. "And you'll
enjoy it a lot... there'll be a boat, and some chocolate---"

"Chocolate?" Jamie wasn't such a Natpacker that mention of chocolate
didn't distract her. Merc instincts die hard.

Just then, the elevator doors opened and two young women in trendy
Melrose Place outfits and jewelry got on, giggling about something
they'd seen down the hall. "It was just hys-ter-i-cal!" one of them
enunciated in a Brit accent.
"Truly, darling!"
"Rilly!" the other responded, sounding like Joanna Lumly.

"Hold the elevator!"

Chris's head snapped up. No. It wouldn't be."No, shut it---"

Too late. Maureen and Sue made it by a hair's breadth, letting out
sighs of relief as the doors closed... only to scream when they turned
around to find Chris escorting the blinkered Jamie. "Aaaah! Can't we
get *away* from you people?" Maureen gasped in shock and anger.

"Having problems?" Chris smirked. It really had been a lovely plan.
She and Abby had worked so hard on it; Dianne too. Too bad it was
being used against her.

"Nothing we can't handle," Sue claimed valiantly.

"I'll bet."

"You're in just as much trouble as we are, Chaos. So stop giggling."

"I'm not giggling, they are," Chris said, nodding to the two tourists.
She frowned. Her eyes met Maureen's. Realization hit them both
simultaneously, like a teenager's car hitting a telephone pole.

The giggling had stopped, and the two Melrose Place girls were smiling
the sinister Merc Smile(tm). "Oh, maaaaan," Sue whimpered, leaning
against the wall of the elevator.

"Nice try, Chaos. You too, your Madness. But there is a reason
Christina chose this place to begin with; it's really hard to leave,"
Lizbet said confidingly, slowly peeling off the fake nose and popping
out the teeth with the gap in the front.

"Just come quietly," Sonja said, taking off the blond wig and working
her fingers through her own brunette hair, "and no one will have to
get hurt." "And if we don't?" Mo asked, her eyes narrowing behind her
glasses.

"That's okay too." Lizbet shrugged, and smiled like a Pre-Raphaelite
elf. "We don't *mind* hurting you. Although we won't enjoy it."

"But we're really okay with it. It's in the Charter; you have to be
prepared to do anything before you sign up as a Merc." Sonja peeled
off part of her mask, muttering "ick, latex" under her breath as she
did so.

Blue eyes met brown; Mo stared at Chris. Nodding as one, they each
brought a foot down on the nearest pursuing Merc's foot, then head-
butted Sonja and Lizbet in the stomach. Chris let go of Jamie, who
started screaming again about the heights, and as the two disguised
Mercs doubled over, Chris hit every elevator button at once. The doors
opened, and Sue thoughtfully dragged Jamie out into the lobby, Chris
and Maureen right behind her.


Dawn was really, really looking forward to this.

Maureen had been responsible for her last nervous breakdown; she'd
kidnapped her in the dead of night, hypnotized her, and wiped her
memory of several key events. Just thinking about it...

...a dark figure, face obscured, held a feather against Dawn's
stomach. "Tell us everything you know."

"No, no, no... Please..."

"Tell us!"

"Okay, I'll tell..."

Then, a bit later, "Forget everything that has happened. Forget this
conversation. Keep it a secret..."

"No, I won't!"

"You must!"

And then the feather again....

"Dawn, will you get a grip?" Darkangel hauled the giggling former Die-
Hard Leader to her feet, managing to get her supported by the wall as
she adjusted Dawn's uniform. "The Metro PD would be ashamed of you."

"Sorry." Dawn was breathing heavily, trying to control the giggles.
"Flashback. You know. Trauma. Feathers. Bad juju." She gave a long
sigh, then fondled her handcuffs, repeating, "I am above revenge. I am
calm. I am cured. I am above petty, stinking, selfish, small-minded
impulses... I am..."

"Just keep telling yourself that," Darkangel said, putting the cap at
a rakish angle. Maybe the Dangerous Liasions boutique ought to carry
uniforms. She could definitely get into this protect and serve bit.

"Oh, screw that pychiatric wellness crap. She's going to pay." Dawn
smiled grimly, in control of herself again. Okay, so she got to meet a
cute shrink because of her delusions last time. One that bore a
startling resemblance to Duncan MacLeod. But thanks to Maureen, she'd
had to meet him under *professional* circumstances.

If for nothing else, she was going to cuff Maureen just for *that*.


Maureen and Sue, and Chris and Jamie had split up when they hit the
lobby; momentary alliances broke up in the face of mutual mistrust. Mo
and Sue had headed straight for the entrance; Chris, knowing a bit
more about what was planned, had gone for the side exit.

Shoeless Mo' skidded into the main atrium, thinking "finally, safety,
public places, help" and almost knocked over a tour guide in a prissy
suit. "Oops, sorry," she panted.

"You can't go out this way!" the guide gasped affrontedly.

"The fire alarms went off! You have to leave by the fire exits!"

"What?!" Sue whimpered.

"It's an automatic system..." the woman started to explain
pedantically, taking out an Apple notebook to show them the
floorplans. "It runs on a lovely C++ algorithem---"

Maureen slugged her. Sue goggled in shock, but the 'tour guide', while
hurt, managed to get a grip on Maureen and yell, "I've got her! She's
over here!"   Berg, Abby, and John came running from the guards'
stations, and Sue desperately thwapped the now-revealed Lisa Reeves
with her own Apple. Mo and Sue took off, with the three Mercs and Lisa
bringing up in the rear.


Chris had headed straight for the side exit; if they could get to
parking lot first, and grab the Winnebago, they'd be safe. Jamie was
on her last legs, Chris was in bad shape, but still, still, they
could've made it.

If Liz the Lucky hadn't sprayed the floor with water; if Jamie hadn't
slipped; if Chris, in heroically trying to get Jamie out of there,
hadn't been harmlessly but very completely restrained by Lane. Liz and
Lane were very careful about not hurting the MMG and the WebGoddess,
but the two sopping wet and disheveled fugitives were soon confined in
the Winnebago.


Maureen and Sue came running right around the corner into Darkangel
and Dawn's arms. "Police! Thank God!" Sue said dramatically, gulping
for air.

Darkangel asked completely straight-faced, "Is there a problem?"

Dawn giggled.

Too bad "Is there a problem?" was the same phrase that Berg had used
in the restraunt; too bad Dawn giggled. Maureen did an abrupt about-
face and ducked down a side corridor, yanking a protesting Sue after
her.

"They're not real cops! Damn Chris anyway, she thought of everything!"
Maureen was starting to plan her own revenge on the current MMG. Why
couldn't she use her powers for good, for the love of God?


And then Maureen saw the side exit. Unguarded. Completely open. And
beyond it, the parking lot and freedom. Sue was starting to fail,
saying she couldn't go any farther, but Maureen wouldn't let her give
up.

"Here, give me a hand!"

Exhilarated by the chase, thrilled at the promise of freedom before
them, Maureen grabbed at Sue's hand....

And felt cold steel wrap around her wrist.

With a loud click the handcuffs closed and Maureen was dragged to a
halt by the unmoving weight of her protege at the other end.

"*SUE*?!?" Maureen snarled in bewilderment.

"Well, yes and no." As Maureen watched in an astonishment that was
quickly sliding into fury, Sue tore off her blond wig and her glasses,
drew herself up to her full height, and peeled off the elaborate
Mission Impossible-style latex mask to reveal...

Dianne the Merc.

Just then the other Mercs - Dawn in the lead, with Darkangel, Abby,
Lizbet and Sonja close behind her - tore around the corner and skidded
to a halt in front of them. Abby addressed the Grand High Poohbah:
"It's about *time* you grabbed her. What the heck have you been
waiting for?"

"It's a matter of style, dear," Dianne answered, with an ever-so-smug
look at Maureen. "The timing had to be right."

"You and your @#$% 'timing'," Abby grumbled under her breath. "I'm
exhausted!"

"I wanted to cuff her!" Dawn yelled, glaring at Dianne. "After what
she did to me last time... last time... last time..." Her face screwed
up in hilarity again as she had another flashback, and collapsed in
giggles on the floor. It took her a few minutes, but eventually Dawn
stood up shakily, and wiped the sweat off of her brow. She stared at
the cuffed Maureen. "Sorry about that. It won't happen again."

"You sure?" Dianne's voice was muffled. Maureen had tried to make a
break for it in the middle of Dawn's attack, and Dianne had been
forced to tackle her. There was a flurry of arms, limbs, and
unidentifiable objects as the rest of the Mercs used the opportunity
as an excuse for a football-style pile up.

Dawn stepped over to the rapidly-coming-apart pile of bodies and
hooked a foot underneath Maureen's trapped leg. It made a weird THUCK!
noise as she tested that the Merc couldn't move. "Sure, I'm 'sure'! I
made a promise not to go nuts this War, and I'm not going back on my
word!"   She hesitated. "Although... I wonder if Dr. Adrian Wetmore
goes out with former patients?"

*

With thanks to : Dianne, Lane, Jamie, Dawn & Abby especially, although
the whole Guild helped


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


Things that Hide in Small Spaces or What Jessica Found There
By Cynthia Hoffman
Date:  July 28, 1996
Time: 9:00 p.m.
Place:  Raven

Immediately prior to Hacking the System


Someone was listening in and was telling others what they were doing.
This was clear.  How else could she explain the disappearance of two
crates of newly delivered blood within minutes of their arrival, not
to mention how perfectly timed the ill-planned redecoration of the
Raven was? She had searched everywhere she could reach for bugs and
other assorted evil electronic devices.  Jessica was her last resort. 
She was small enough to go through the heating ducts, slide in between
door panels and under tables and her arms were narrow enough to reach
behind things that wouldn't or couldn't be moved.

"No way I'm going in there," said Jessica firmly.  "No way at all.
And you guys can't make me.  It's *dirty* under there."

So that was that, wasn't it?  Not a chance.  Cynthia turned to Tami.
"What do you usually do when you want her to do something she hates?
I'm out of ideas.  I offered her writing paper; I offered her a new
dress. Nothing.  I'm beginning to think we're harboring a mercenary
instead of a Ravenette in training.  Jane and I have an appointment
with a computer in half an hour.  Can you help me out here?  Please?"

"Perhaps," drawled Tami, "it's not what's being offered, but who's
doing the offering."

**************************
9:15 p.m.

This wasn't so bad, thought Jessica, as she slid through the back
panels of the back room of the Raven, sliding her hands long the
walls, floor and ceiling the way Cynthia had shown her.  Every time
she encountered a bump, she moved the flashlight from her mouth to her
hand and looked carefully. So far, she'd encountered 4 suspicious
looking flat things that had wires attached to them and she had
removed them and put them in her pocket.

The next bump, however, was bigger and flatter and didn't feel like
the other things.  She was up in the heating ducts now, over the bar
and she looked down and saw Bonnie hooking up a microphone and Felicia
running scales on a piano and Chris tuning his guitar.  She shifted
the flashlight and looked at the object more closely.  It was a brown
leather-bound notebook with what looked like numbers in it.  The back
half of the notebook, however, was full of blank pages.

Jessica leaned on her elbow, surveying the bar below and considering
her options.  She had made a deal, and she wasn't a welsher.  But her
deal hadn't included notebooks, either the kind to give or the kind to
receive. She wasn't getting new papers out of this deal, just a new
dress.

Jessica made her decision.  It was simple, really.  Jessica LaFrank,
child Ravenette extraordinaire would, for the price of a velvet dress
hand selected by Janette, get herself dirty.  The bugs were for the
grown-ups. The notebook was for her and it would be her little secret.


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


Volunteers, Anyone?

Time: 9:30 pm Sunday 7/28
Location: Nick's Loft
By: Robbi Egersdorf with input from Amy Rambo and Nancy Taylor


Knighties sat about the loft in various stages of consciousness.
There were empty pizza boxes strewn about and everyone was full and
happy even though they had made no progress to finding the missing
item.

The loft was now lit with more candles.  Someone had found Nick's
stash of candles during the total sweep of the premises of earlier
that day.

Perri and Cath sat at the table sifting through the enormous piles of
mail Nick had received in the past two months since his disappearance.
They were combing the mountain for any clue that might help in the
search for the missing book.

"Now here's something interesting."  Cath held up a large envelope.

"Do you think... "  Inquired Peri with a glimmer of hope on her face.

"No.  We wouldn't be so lucky."  She ripped open and poured out the
contents.  Picking up a colorful pamphlet and an invitation, she read:

                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."

"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."

The illustration on the cover was obviously of their beloved leader,
on Nicholas Knight.  The caption 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".

They both took a closer look at the picture.  "I remember Nick saying
something about posing in the nude in his younger days, but I have
never seen the painting.  Whew!"  Gushed Perri.

"You said it." answered Cath.  "Do you think that Nick is backing this
thing ?"

"Not likely.  Why would he have to send himself and invitation?"

"Your right, of course.  I think it would be worth our while to send
representatives of our group, maybe they would have the chance to nose
around and find out what's going on."

"I think your right."  Perri rose from the table and walked to the
center of the room.  The din of the various conversations that were
being engaged in continued.

Cath followed her.  "Attention, attention.  Let's have your attention,
everyone."

It took a few moments for the sound to die down enough that the
leaders could speak.  Perri began,  "We have an opportunity for two
Knighties to go to an exhibition of Brabant art."

"So, does anyone want to go to this thing?  I'll go, if only one
person wants to, but I figure one of you guys would probably be much
more excited about the idea than I.  If no one volunteers, I'll assume
no one is interested, and go by myself."  Cath put in.  Perri gave her
a strange look.

The crowd fell very silent all of a sudden.  Robbi Egersdorf looked
about and thought to herself <I'll never get an opportunity like this
again.> Before she had a chance to change her mind she stood and
walked to the front of the room.  "I'll go.  Anyone want to go with
me?"

Silence once again.  "Come on guys!! I don't want to be to only blind
fool to do this.  Let's have another volunteer!!"  For the first time,
she regretted volunteering.  She had jumped so quickly because she
didn't want to miss out.

"Since the museum was the site of my kidnapping, *I'm* certainly not
interested in going on the opening night.  This just might be a chance
for us to get in trouble too."  Sandra Grey put in.  "If you go,
Robbi; I would be very careful.  We don't know who is behind this or
what they have planned."

"Point well taken."  Perri took up from Sandra.  "Anyone else have any
comments.  We still need one more volunteer.  Any takers."

Robbi stepped forward and now really wished she had just sit on her
hands and taken a deep breath instead of taking this on.  "I don't
think it's a very good idea for Cath to expose herself, being Knightie
co-leader this early in the game.  Come on.  I don't want to do this
alone.  Where is Amy Rambo when you need her.  She loves things like
this and really know a lot about art.  She could make us sound really
good."  She looked about the room for a friendly face and her eyes lit
upon Nancy Taylor.  "Nancy, come with me.  Well have fun.  I'll bet
Perri and Cath will even let us take the caddy."

With that Nancy's eyes lit up.  "Yeah, I'll do anything to ride in the
famous pea green caddy.  I have to warn you, I don't know any more
about this art then you do."

"Okay, we have our two volunteer.  Go back to what you were doing
everyone. Nancy and Robbi,  Cath and I want to talk to both of you."
Perri motioned for them to sit at the table.

"I don't know why I volunteered for this, I really don't know anything
about this sort of stuff."  Robbi repeated.

Cath answered her fears.  "Don't worry, Amy promised she would be
there to help use when and if we needed and we need."  She turned back
to the room and shouted over her shoulder,  "Katrinka!  We need you!"

She was there in an instant.  "Can you power that computer of yours up
and get us in touch with Amy.  Have her send you everything she knows
about this."  and she handed her the pamphlet.

"Will do, fearless leader."  Katrinka gave a mock salute and skipped
off to get to the task.


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


Hacking the System
By Cynthia Hoffman and Jane Credland
Date:  July 28, 1996
Time:  10:00 p.m.
Place:  Raven Back Room

Immediately following "What Jessica Found There"


"You're sure Susan said this was okay?" remarked Cynthia as she
finished installing the modem on the laptop and plugged the phone jack
into the wall.  "Or, to be more precise, you're sure this is how she
said to go about this?"

"Yep.  Her passwords are here, and this is the trail to take.  Should
be a breeze," stated Jane.  "Besides, it worked in fanfic.  I'm sure I
can make it work here."

"Fanfic?"  Cynthia raked her fingers through her hair and stared at
Jane. "You've only done this in fanfic?"

"Well, yes, but you wouldn't believe the information my source gave
me.  I now know more about hacking than it's probably safe for me
know.  Plus, I have this."  Jane lifted an odd shaped box out of her
backpack.

"And what is *that*?"

Jane hooked the box to the laptop, carefully following the
instructions that she'd printed out from her computer that morning.
"This is the box that doesn't exist.  If my source is correct, it
should prevent the government from finding out that we've hacked into
their system.  I don't want to get Susan into any trouble, you know.
There aren't too many landlords in this world who would be as nice as
she and Cory have been."

"Now, let's see what this thing can do, shall we?"  Jane popped a disk
into the laptop, pulled up another piece of paper, and started typing
-- and muttering to herself.  "Password? ... this should be the one
... now ... enter here ... menu ... number 4 maybe ... no ... three?
... yes ... one more ... another one? ... and voila."

"We're in!" chuckled Cynthia.  "I haven't done this in years.  I'd
forgotten how much fun it was.  First things first.  What's the status
of the liquor license here?"

The computer whirred and clicked and the screen came up blank.  Lucien
Lacroix had never even bothered to get a liquor license for the place.

"That's curious.  I thought for sure he was bright enough to get a
license.  Wait.  Exactly who does own this place right now?"

Jane sighed.  "Give me a minute.  I've got to get back out to the Land
Registry system if you want to know that.  Here.  Do you have the
instrument number from the deed?"

Cynthia took over the keyboard and entered a string of numbers she'd
gleaned from the side of the deed, numbers she was assuming were like
parcel numbers in the States when she did real estate transfers.
Yuck.  She'd always hated real estate law and was happy to be out of
it.  Then she sat back and waited while the computer executed its
search.

A scant few minutes later, she was gifted with a name and she stared
at the computer screen stunned.  "That nasty old man," she stuttered,
pointing at the screen and making Jane look to make sure she wasn't
imagining things.  "He never executed the transfer!  This place is
still hers and she doesn't even know it.  Wonder if he was ever going
to bother to tell her?"

"Don't know," Jane remarked, and slid in next to Cynthia, grabbing the
keyboard back.  "But right now we have to find out if there is even a
valid liquor license for this place.  The cops are pretty strict
around here.  It wouldn't do us much good to hold a grand opening and
have them shut us down now, would it?"

This time Jane didn't even have to check her notes.  She went back
into the LLBO (Liquor Licence Board of Ontario, in case anyone's
wondering) computers and pulled the file on the Raven back up.  "Here
it is.  Hey!  This is great."

"What?"  Cynthia pulled the laptop over so she could see the screen.

"Right there.  It says that the liquor license is valid until August
31, 1996, and it's in Janette's name."

"Perfect.  That will do just fine.  Janette can take care of next year
once we're gone ... if she wants to."

"Well, there is one slight problem."  Jane frowned and massaged her
temples.

"What now?"

"When the cops come by to check it out, we'll need to show them a
valid liquor license.  And we never found one when we were cleaning
this place."

Cynthia stretched her shoulders and neck while she thought.  She
stared pensively at the screen, and then grinned.  "Not a problem.
Not a problem at all.  All we have to do is print one.  Isn't that
what that menu option is for?"

Jane double checked the mini laser printer and paper, and then punched
the keyboard.  A few minutes later, they had a valid liquor license.

"Only one thing left to do."  Cynthia said.

"What?"  Jane backed out of the government system carefully, leaving
no trace that they'd ever been in.

"Get a frame and put it up on the wall."


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


Tying Up... the Loose Ends. Of Course.
By Christina Kamnikar w/suggestions from the one & only Guild

11:45 PM, Sunday night, July 28th
Merc Central


"...what more can I *say*?"

Dianne had to admire Christina's technique. That combination of
shameless pleading, vulnerable hurt, and dead-on honesty was hard to
build up defenses to. Glancing around the room at Sara, Abby, and
Lane, Dianne knew she wasn't the only one who'd been convinced.

"I believe her," Lane said with conviction. "She's not a Natpacker.
She's still a loyal Merc."

"Me too," Abby nodded. "I mean, all that stuff about chocolate being
more important that shininess, and profit being even more important---
"

"And freedom most of all," Sara reminded them.

"Okay." The GHP shrugged, and Maureen glared at Christina from her
position perched on Dianne's desk like a trophy. La Mercenaire had
refused to uncuff her until the trial. "You haven't been corrupted,
despite your association with Jamie; and despite the fact that you
spent way too much time with them yesterday. And you *still* don't
know what they're up to. But you're a Merc, and that's what counts.
Just don't *ever* do that again," Dianne said.

Christina frowned. "Do *what*? I didn't DO anything---"

"Neither did I!" Maureen snapped.

"You hush up. Your trial is in the morning." All five Mercs glared at
their ex-leader in betrayed mistrust. "You'll get your say then. Right
before we carry out sentence."


Jamie missed the concert. She got stuck in a storage room in the
cellar while the Mercs tried to figure out how to deprogram her.


Lane went to sleep, secure in having done his best to prevent more
defections; and glad his faith in Christina, as a friend and a Merc,
hadn't been unjustified. And that she wasn't really going to kill him
for bringing her back to Merc Central liked she'd threatened in the
'Bago. Not really.


Abby started making up lists, fun lists, of who would do what during
the trial, and how Chris would help. She fell asleep over them with a
smile on her face, dreaming of torts and objections and kangaroos.


Dianne and Chris (with a sleepy and still angry Maureen looking on)
said their goodnights in the hallway, their friendship, trust, and
professional relationship restored. [Cop out? What cop out? This is
important, emotional stuff. You really think I'm going to tell you
what I said to convince them? Get a grip!--- CLK]


And then Chris changed out of her ruined dress into her combat
fatigues, shooed the kitties out of her office, and went on to her
job. Which she'd never, exactly, told Dianne would be happening *that*
night. She'd let her friend draw her own, erroneous conclusions.


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


Men In Spandex
by Jamie M.R.

Time:  11:45ish PM, Sunday night, July 28th
Roughly concurrent with "Tying Up... the Loose Ends"


>Jamie missed the concert. She got stuck in a storage room in the
>cellar while the Mercs tried to figure out how to deprogram her.
>-----------C. Kamnikar


"You wanted the best, and you got the best!" boomed through the
speakers, several of which were located adjacent to her left ear.
"The hottest band in the world... KISS!"

The black curtain over the stage dropped, to reveal the band: all done
up in their seventies splendor, six-inch platform heels and leather
and spandex... for men hovering near the half-century mark, they all
looked damn good in that spandex.  The music crashed forth from the
speakers, and explosions went off; the smell of pyro filled her
nostrils, and she smiled. It was good to be home.

She wasn't sure that Gene would still recognize her -- after all, she
barely recognized *him*; she'd done most of her KISS-following during
the eighties, in the days without the makeup, and she was more
familiar with the face behind the greasepaint than with the
greasepaint itself.  But then their eyes met, and it was just like the
old days: she didn't bother to dive for the guitar pick he flicked in
her direction, in this crowd it was certain suicide, and she *had*
other guitar picks from the man... enough to know that even after all
these years, Gene Simmons and his near-perfect memory were still
intact.

He stomped over to her side of the stage, wiggled his tongue at her
and did a few pelvic thrusts in her direction, which was his standard
way of saying 'hello'; and she smiled.

It was good to be home.

In all the hullabaloo of the "reunion" tour, they'd left behind their
more recent material, and she missed the songs she'd come to think of
as concert standards: I Love It Loud, Heaven's On Fire... she even
missed Creatures Of The Night, although it was a song she'd long ago
gotten thoroughly sick of. But it was okay, because they did "Rock
Bottom" and "Do You Love Me", and other songs she'd never heard live
before.  When they segued into "New York Groove", the arena went nuts,
and she along with them -- when Gene stepped forward with the flaming
sword to breathe fire, she held her own breath nervously; let the rest
of the Garden scream, she was more worried that Gene would set his
hair on fire again, and was relieved when the fireball burst forth
from his mouth without inflicting damage.

Paul danced his way over to her side of the stage (stage right), and
she spent a few moments appreciating her view -- then Ace made his way
over to that side as well, and while the rest of the arena roared
their approval of the hot guitar licks, she was busily mulling over
the boggling concept of spandex.  Men in spandex... she'd never quite
realized how MUCH she'd missed the fashion standards of the eighties. 
Gene's stage costume included a large metal-plated codpiece, which
wasn't much fun; on the other hand, Paul's and Ace's stage costumes
did not (apparently) include underwear, which made for interesting
front-row viewing.  "Love Gun", indeed.

She licked her lips, and flipped her hair back with one languid hand;
from the back of the stage, Gene caught her movement, and mimicked the
hair-flipping part.  The sight of this fearsome demon-creature in
greasepaint with stage blood dripping down his front, parroting such a
girlish gesture, was deeply amusing; she giggled, and Gene wiggled his
tongue at her and flipped another guitar pick in her direction, which
she again failed to catch.

The one tricky point of the night, the performance of the song "Beth",
she was not looking forward to, since the song always reminded her of
her dear departed Eric, and there was at least an even chance that
she'd end up sobbing hysterically... but due to time constraints, the
song was cut from the set, and she breathed a sigh of relief.
Serendipity protecting her again.

Eventually, the show ended, in a cacophony of music and explosions,
and the house lights went up.

And she smiled.  Because it was good to be...

...to be...

...in a storage room at Merc HQ.

//Must've fallen asleep...//

She yawned, and stretched, and frowned.  This was not good.  No, not
the fact that she was locked up and imprisoned by members of her
erstwhile faction; that, she could live with.

But missing a KISS concert, one that she had front-row tickets for,
that was unforgiveable.

The Mercs owed her, Jamie decided.  They owed her a KISS concert, with
front row seats; and they owed her well-endowed men in spandex; and
she was determined to collect on both debts before the War was over.

She felt much better after making that determination; it allowed her
to forgive her Merc Mommies for causing her to miss *the* event of a
lifetime, for keeping her locked in a closet while the show went on...
her subconscious mind must have filled in the blanks, causing her to
believe that she was actually at the show when in reality she was
nowhere near the vicinity.

Of course, that didn't explain the hoarseness of her voice.  Or the
fact that her ears were ringing and she couldn't hear anything.  And
it definitely didn't explain the dogtag that hung from her neck, the
one that said "KISSarmy" on one side, and "Alive/Worldwide '96-'97" on
the other.

But then, reality warped in strange directions when there was a War
happening.  Nothing new about that.

And anyway, the Mercs still owed her.  So that was okay.

She curled up on the floor again and tried to go back to sleep, to
dream about men in spandex...

(Instead, she dreamed about being stuck in the glass elevator in the
CN Tower.  But that's another story.)

----------------------fin

RL NOTE:  The concert was *excellent*.  Though I cannot hear, nor can
I speak.  This is the way one *should* feel, the day after a KISS
show.

An' they're coming back to do the Meadowlands on New Year's Eve.
YEAH!!!!!


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


The WoofPack Come For A Visit
By Maryann Jorgensen with Tigon Hooker

Time:  July 29, 1996 -  around midnight.

Maryann got up from off the piano bench that she had adopted as her
own. She had been driving everyone nuts playing "Chopsticks" on and
off for the last hour. Dotti and Marcia both had given her looks but
she had chosen to ignore them.  Finally Dotti had come over, and not
saying a word had slammed the cover down on the keys barely missing
Maryann's fingers. This got applause from the rest of the Knighties in
the room.  Dotti turned, took a bow, grinned (as only Dotti can do)
and went back to sit in peace.   Marcia thanked her and went back to
looking over a map of Toronto.

There was a knock on the door.  Since the electricity was off that was
the main way into and out of the loft. Cath walked over to the door.
"Is anyone expecting a visit this late?"  Yelling to be heard through
the door she asked who it was.

"It can't be Cousins."  Sue piped in.  "They don't know how to knock."

A muffled answer came through the door.  "It's me, Tigon.  Cath
remember we met in L.A.  I'm hear to see Maryann.  I've got some
*friends* here to see her."  Barking could heard out in the hall.

Cath turned around and looked at Maryann.  "Friends?  I thought you
weren't going to bring your *friends*.

I wasn't til Jody offered to pick them up and Tigon said that they
could stay with the WoofPack."  Maryann answered,  she was anxious  to
see her pups - both the living and the unliving.  "Don't worry they
aren't going to stay."

With a sigh Cath opened the door or at  least tried to open it.  It
flew back as soon as she had released the latch.  Of all the furry
bodies that flew into the loft Maryann only recognized two. Killian,
her red merle Aussie, bounced into the room.  Nattie, the Basset
Hound, kind of waddled in.

"Hi Tigon."  Maryann said picking herself up off the floor,  the two
hairballs jumping all over  weren't helping matters any.   Glad to see
you and *everyone* made it.

The barking canines bounced and danced around their human.  Then
seeing a room full of potential attention the two dogs decided to make
the rounds with the rest of the Pack.  Seeing Sandra with cookies,
Killian immediately started his 'I'm a poor starving dog and you're
the human with all the food routine.'  Nattie just sat and looked
pathetic.  As usual, it worked like a charm.  They had Nina, Debra
Ann, Katrinka and the rest of the Knighties feeding them like there
was no tomorrow.

Cath came over shaking her head.  "Hi Tigon.  Are all of these dogs
Maryann's?"

Tigon looked over the assembled mass of fur.  "Nope, most are mine.
Stretch is the red dachsie.   The big black shepherd over there
sitting couch is Ace.  And that,"  she pointed, "is Harry-Jack.  He's
a Harrier.   And yes before you ask they are all vampires."

Carrie came over,  looking toward the door at the Golden who had just
entered the room.   "And is that Perry?"

Tigon looked over her shoulder.  "Yup.  That's Perry.  Beautiful isn't
he."

Maryann looked out in the hall.  "Where's Herman?"  she asked glancing
over at Tigon.

"He was with me a second ago out in the hall..."  Tigon never got a
chance to finish her sentence as a small black and tan torpedo
vampweiner streaked into the loft from the open skylight.

After the startled shrieks of some Knighties, along with some spilled
popcorn (that Killie and Nattie were busy cleaning up).  Things
settled down a little.

"What are the harness /saddle bag thingies for?"  Siona asked.

"They're for flying, protection, and carrying food. I juryrigged up
the temporaries for Maryann's dogs."  All the dogs have harnesses
built into the saddlebags, that way if a vamppuppy is injured, they
can be carried away too. "  Tigon answered.  "The saddle bags hold
blood or kibble depending on the dog."

"But what I'm really proud of is the armour on my dogs packs, to
prevent staking. The mortal dogs are just wearing standard dog
harnesses that I juryrigged."

 We flew over."  Tigon motioned to her own setup.  I don't wear a
harness, I have loop/handles on my jacket.

Their talk was disrupted by barking.   Looking over Tigon noticed that
Ace and Stretch had joined Herman in buzzing around the loft.  Perry
and Harry-Jack were looking on in destain.  The mortal dogs were still
eating their way into cookie oblivion.

"ALRIGHT!  Everyone find a perch"  The dogs immediately landed on the
nearest spot,  all but Herman.

Maryann looked at him and said in a tight voice, pointing to the
mantle, "Down! Stay!"

"Well let me introduce you to everybody." Raising her voice a little,
Maryann got everyone's attention.  "This is Tigon.  She's with the
WoofPack"

In the background a voice that sounded starangly like Marcia's was
heard "Duh!"

Maryann just looked at the assembled Knighties.  "Tigon meet the
Knighties." Drawing her to the side she continued "You can introduce
yourself around later.  Its a lot of new names and faces.  How was
your flight?"

"Not bad, just a little windy"  Tigon answered.  "I just wanted to
bring your dogs over to see you.  At the rate they are eating, my
bunch will never be able to get them off the ground."

"The other reason I wanted to see you was to see if you could act as a
liason between the Pack and the Knighties.  I know you can't tell me
much now,  but Jody did tell me that Nick was in some kind of trouble
and needed help.  I'm here to offer the services of the WoofPack."
She grinned "Who knows what they" she indicated the dogs, "and the
others can dig up."

"Oohh, that was bad"  Maryann winced.  "I knew there was a reason I
liked you.  I'll talk it over with the others and get back to you.
OK?"

"Sounds good."

They walked over by the door.  Tigon looked at the dogs laying on
everything from the floor to the mantle.  "Well we gotta fly.  See ya
later"


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


A Girl's Knight Out
(following 'Isn't Sunday a Day of Rest???)
by Tigon Diana Hooker

Near Midnight-29 JUL 1996
Toronto, Nick's  Loft


Tigon had met Maryann briefly in L.A. last month, and had been
surprised to find out that the Knightie not only knew about Perry, but
*Tigon* as well. She had mentioned her difficulties travelling with
her dogs, particularly since some of the other Knighties were very
allergic. Tigon, knowing that someday, vampires being vampires, they
were bound to end up in Toronto someday at the same time, offered to
dogsit for her. She hadn't realized it would be *quite* so soon...but
dogsitting Maryann's fairly well-behaved three could have a bonus.

She could maybe find some answers and forge an alliance with the
Knighties...after all, if not for Perry, she'd be a Knightie herself.
Perry certainly seemed to want to help Nick as well...an alliance was
logical.

She juryrigged some flying harnesses for Maryann's two mortal dogs.
Killie, the Aussie Shep, had beautiful blue eyes. Nattie was a little
timid about the harness, but Tigon cuddled and soothed the Basset
until she was calm.

She didn't want to overwhelm the Knighties, so in addition to
Maryann's three and Perry, who would guide her to Nick's loft, she
only took three of her own and made sure they were her most
dependable. Ace would help Perry carry her, Stretch would carry
Nattie, and Harry-Jack would carry Killie. Tigon supposed that
Maryann's vampdachshund, Herman, could have carried Nattie, but she
worried about his lack of experience.

It was excellent flying weather, though a little breezy, and Tigon
decided to take her time on the way back and maybe take in a few
sights.

At the loft, she first peered through the skylight, believing it
always best to know a situation before jumping into it. The present
situation seemed...boring. Maryann relentlessly plunked chopsticks on
Nick's piano. Restraining Herman from entering, Tigon watched Dottie
firmly shut the piano and added a few silent cheers to the resulting
applause from the Knighties.

Satisfied she wasn't walking into...well, a war...Tigon and the dogs
flew down to the ground and entered the building. She ignored the
elevator...why ride when you can walk?...and bounded silently up the
stairs to pause outside the door before gently rapping.

She heard a familiar voice ask who it was. Tigon signalled the dogs to
start barking, figuring it would add credability to her yelled
identification.

The door was opened and the joyful reunion of Maryann and her dogs
occured as Tigon and Cath watched. Tigon descreetly eyed Cath's arm,
looking to see if a particular autograph still lingered there, only to
be distracted by Maryann's query regarding the whereabouts of Herman,
then Herman's entrance through the skylight.

Fielding questions about the Pack, Tigon kept half an eye on the
frolicking dogs. They were getting a little rambunctious, but as long
as it didn't get any worse, she didn't mind. Everybody needs to have a
little fun and blow off steam...even dogs. Besides, watching the dogs
distracted her from the compulsive urge to vacuum up all the popcorn
and cookie crumps the Knighties were dropping with utter abandon.


She left a little bit later, Maryann's dogs still in tow. All in all,
it had been a fairly successful jaunt. A cautious alliance was now
formed, Maryann and her dogs were happy, Tigon had been able to see
some people again (Hi! Duh-tay!), and she had a feeling she'd be
finding more about Nick's situation soon.

Smiling to herself, she sent Perry and Maryann's dogs back to the FG
Mansion (trusting Herman to carry Nattie after a few lessons on the
way over). Then she and her three went sightseeing in the best
possible way.

Ending her night out perched on top of the CN Tower, right arm draped
across Harry-Jack, left around Ace, and Stretch snuggled in her lap;
she watched the stars fading as the sky began the gradual lightening
that preceded dawn.


*********************************************************************
                            End War 7 File 2
*********************************************************************