*********************************************************************
                            War 7 File 3
*********************************************************************

A Sound Revenge

Time: 12:00 A.M. Sunday the 28th

Toronto, Ontario.

Kevin motioned Laura outside.  As they left, he picked up the large
duffel bag he had arrived with.  "I should have put these in before
this." He apologized as he pulled several small devices out of the
bag.

"What are they?" Laura asked, they looked a little like part of a
security light.

"Infrared motion detectors." Kevin explained as he pulled out a box
with 6 LEDs and a small speaker.  "They're a positive switch design so
if anyone cuts the wire leading to the box an alarm will sound.  If
anyone moves into the detectors range, the alarm will sound.  I didn't
know how many to bring so we might have a few blind spots."

"How long to install them?"

"Maybe 2 hours.  After that I want to pay the Cousins a visit.  I have
a little payback for them."

"Such as?"

"I'm going to hit them where it really hurts.  LaCroix's pride."

"Tell me about it." Laura listened as Kevin whispered his plan.  She
started grinning about halfway through.

*****************************************************
CERK 3:00 A.M.

"Explain to me what we're doing on the roof?" John asked as he watched
Kevin unscrewing a vent cover.

"You're here to hold the rope."

"And what are you going to be doing?"

"I'm going in through the vents and do a little creative work on
LaCroix's radio equipment."

"Oh!, Then what?"

"We get the hell out of here before someone spots us."
******************************************************

Kevin worked his way down through the ventilation system as quietly as
possible, finally he reached LaCroix's studio.  Opening the Vent cover
he lowered himself inside.

"OK, here's the main console, and this is the on air switch... AHA!"
He pulled out a small screwdriver and opened a panel.   Tracing the
wiring he found the connections he was looking for.  Cutting the wires
leading to the transmitter he spliced in the tape player.  He then
secured everything in with a metal cover and replaced the panel.
Nothing less that taking the whole unit apart would show the tampering
now.  Then he made his way back up the vent shaft. "I really need to
lose some weight."

"How did it go?"

"All done. Now lets book."  The two quickly made their way off the
roof and back to ground level.
**************************************************
Susan's house a while later.

"So what now?" Laura watched as Kevin finished rewiring a small radio.

"Judy, would you mind just dropping this off at the front door of CERK
and getting back here?"

"No problem." Judy took off with the small transistor radio.
**************************************************
April grumbled as there was a Knock on the door.  When she looked
through the peephole she didn't see anyone outside.

"What is it?" On of the other cousins asked.

"You got me." She cautiously opened the door expecting to see another
letter from the Nick and Nat packers.

"Well?" Another cousin asked.

"It's a radio" She picked it up.  It was tuned to CERK's frequency and
there was a small note attached.

Opening the note, April read aloud. "This has been playing for the
last hour."

The radio clicked on by itself and LaCroix's voice came out of it.
"You have a friend in the NightCrawler."

"Weird." April frowned. "The General isn't broadcasting now."

Suddenly the voice changed. "I love you, you love....."

With a snarl April threw the radio across the room with enough force
to silence it.
************************************************
Susan's house.

"How long with this last?" Laura asked through her laughter.

"About 3 more hours before the battery geeks." Kevin replied as he
looked at his watch.

"What if they find the player and take it out?"

"Then they'll have to find something to replace this." Kevin held up a
foot long piece of wire. "It's the wire that runs from the equipment
to the transmitter. When I put in the player, I cut this out."


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


Down Once More
by Cousin Erik LeBeau
Time: Midnight - 4 AM, Monday, July 29
Place: Somewhere underneath Toronto

Map in one hand, and flashlight in the other, Erik made his way
through the catacombs (OK, so they were just sewers, but allow me a
little artistic license here) under the city of Toronto.  However, he
was noticing more and more that his map was either out-of-date or just
generally inaccurate.  In the past half-hour, he had already found
three side tunnels that weren't on the map, and two dead-ends that
were supposed to be functional.

"I could use a guide.  Someone who works down here on a regular basis
and knows the sewers better than this map does," he muttered to
himself as he discovered another sealed-off tunnel where the map
showed a passageway.  He leaned against the wall to look at the map
and plan his next move.  A rat scampered along, paying the masked
figure no mind.

Erik chuckled at the memory of Lestat's line from "Interview with the
Vampire," "All I need to find you Louis, is to follow the corpses of
rats." It was at that moment that he hatched a new plan.  There *was*
someone he could find who knew the sewers well.  Screed!  The problem
was finding him. Maybe... he checked his map.  Sure enough, the place
where Screed's home was filmed was indeed marked.  He wondered if it
was really his place.  Well, he shrugged, he'd find out soon enough.

Thirty-five minutes of walking later, he could hear the faint strains
of Cockney drinking songs from the end of the tunnel.  'It's not a
light, but it'll do,' he joked to himself as he walked a little
closer, trying not to startle the sailor lurking just beyond.

As nonthreateningly as possible, he stepped into the alcove Screed had
made his own...

And was instantly slammed against the wall, a very upset carouche at
his throat.

"Well, if that's the way you say hello, Screed, I'm not surprised
nobody but Vachon hangs out with you."

Screed's face twisted into confusion, and he eased the young man back
to the ground.  "'Ow'd you know me name?"

Erik dusted himself off gingerly... no harm done.  "I know rather a
lot about you.  I watch the show."

The gold drained out of Screed's eyes.  "Oh.  You're one of those lot,
then, are you?  Who're you s'posed to be, anyway, the Phantom o' the
bloody CN Tower?"

"My name is Erik.  And if by 'one of those lot,' you mean an FK fan,
then yes, I am.  And I need your help."

"You come into me 'ome without so much as a by-your-leave and ask me
for 'elp?  I don't know you; never seen you; and what makes you think
ol' Screed *can* 'elp you.  Not that I will or anything."

"You know the sewers better than anyone.  I need a tour."

"*You* want *me* to waste my night showing you 'round me pad so you
can do who-knows-what down 'ere?"

Erik shrugged.  "Basically, yeah."

Screed looked around.  "Well, seeing as me... soc-i-al calendar don't
seem to be filled at the moment, let's go."

By the time the sun was just ready to come up, Erik knew the
underground location of every opposing faction, as well as entrances
and exits hidden throughout the city, so that he was never more than a
couple of minutes from sanctuary in the underground maze.  He thanked
his guide profusely and agreed to "not be such a bloody stranger,
mate."

Erik emerged from the sewers a mere block away from CERK, as opposed
to the twenty minute hike he had originally undergone to get into
them.  Everything was in readiness now.  Phase Two would begin soon.
He grinned an Evil Cousinly Grin(tm) and rubbed his hands together as
he walked back to rejoin the remainder of the Cousins.


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


CERK goes AWOL! (1/5)
Radio Hijacking for Fun and Profit
by Christina Kamnikar (w/bits from the Sisters Morrigna & Jamie
Randell)

Merc Central, 12:15 AM Monday morning

Chris smiled sweetly at Dianne's retreating back, then turned and
walked down the basement stairs with a sense of relief. Not that it
would have been any more difficult to escape from Merc Central if
Dianne *hadn't* believed she was still a loyal Merc. But it might
have meant that the GHP would send more reinforcements after them in
about half an hour, when both she and Jamie were found missing. 
After all, you couldn't really keep the Merc Mommy General prisoner
in her own palace. But it was nice to know that only the Cousins
would be actively looking for them over the next few hours.

Humming happily, the MMG grabbed her leather jacket, Jamie's Forever
Knight jacket, and the keys to the gray, inconspicuous Merc van on
her way to the storage room where Jamie was locked in. Checking the
hallway and shaking her head at Dianne's sloppiness (you really
should have posted guards, Dianne, she thought) Chris unlocked the
storage room, let herself in, then locked the door behind her before
Jamie could stop her.

"What are you doing here? And why did you just lock yourself in?"
the Web Goddess asked in surprise, catching her jacket reflexively
when Chris threw it. Chaos didn't reply, but walked to the far wall
behind the filing cabinet, pulled a few boxes out of the way, and
revealed a small metal door set into a steel frame in the wall. A
sophisticated-looking voicebox and lightpad next to it lit up when
she placed her palm on it. "Christina L. Kamnikar, "Chaos", Merc
Mommy General," she said aloud, and the little red light went turned
green, and the door slid upward into the wall. Jamie's jaw dropped.

"Time to make tracks, kiddo." Chris grinned, and gestured toward the
little tunnel now visible. "We've got a job to do."


The secret passage had ended in a deserted part of Little Italy
where Chaos had parked the van behind a coffeeshop, long before the
kidnapping that afternoon. "Lisa Prince put these in; there's about
half a dozen of them that go to different parts of town.  Dianne and
I and Lisa are the only ones with the clearance to use them." The
Merc General chuckled as she steered the van toward the main area of
downtown. "Dianne should've remembered that one, and kept you locked
up somewhere less convenient. She's going to be *peeved* when she
realizes you're gone." Chris didn't seem particularly worried by this.

Jamie shook her head in amusement, then asked, "Don't you want to be
there for Maureen's trial? And why don't you want me to go on trial
with her? I thought Dianne put me under arrest too."

"Mmm, kind of. We just think you're deluded, since you're a
Natpacker/Merc. Maureen's probably a traitor,though," Chris responded
cheerfully. "Besides, this job is going to remind you why you're a
Merc. I wish we _could_ be there when they put Maureen on trial...
but maybe we'll get back before it starts. Dianne could delay it for
a while if she thinks I'll bring you back. I did leave her a note
after all..."

The van turned down the street where the main offices of CERK were
located. Jamie sat up straighter in her seat, anticipation making her
eyes sparkle. "This is it, isn't it? This is the job, right?"  It
didn't take a genius to figure out what the equipment filling most of
the back of the van was for. A crystal receiver, transmitting
equipment, portable radio, a length of cable, various bolt-cutters...
they were hijacking CERK again! Adrenaline started to thrum through
Jamie's veins. She should've been worried about Maureen; she should
have tried to contact the 'Pack and let them know she was okay; but
all she could think of was the thrill of illicit activity again. It
had been *far* too long since she'd done something like this.

"Yes. But not in the way you think," her friend laughed, driving a
little farther down the street, pulling over and stopping the van to
open the side door.

Two people that Jamie knew quite well got in. After all, she'd spent
most of the last War hanging out with them and Ralph, Sidney
Lambert's portrayer. "I don't believe it!"

"Believe it," erica said dryly, settling down onto the floor of the
van next to the cooler whose purpose Jamie hadn't been able to figure
out. "Bonka and I _were_ going to be good this War, but Chris's rates
were *so* reasonable... we just couldn't resist."

"Do you have any soft drinks in there?" Bianca asked, eyeing the
cooler, and leaning against the motorcycle and sidecar that didn't
make any more sense than the cooler. The younger Sister Morrigna was
a younger, slightly more energetic version of her brown-haired, pale
older sister erica, without the self-effacement that led to erica's
ability to talk about herself in lower-case letters.

"NO. And don't touch it," Chris said adamantly. "erica, do you have
the paperwork I sent you?"

"Yup." The older Sister Morrigna waved a manila folder at the
driver, who started up the van and turned onto the Garden Parkway
heading out of town. "Ham operator's license, yacht license, docking
permit... I still don't understand why we need it all, though."

"'Two words: plausible deniability,'" Chris quoted. "If you get
caught, at least you won't go to jail. Just claim you have no idea
how you wandered onto CERK's frequency, and look as innocent as
possible."

Bianca batted her eyelashes, and erica's face went completely blank.
"Good try," Jamie commented in cautious approval. She turned back
around, and realized they were getting farther and farther away from
the radio offices, and didn't seem to be anywhere near the Raven.
"Where the heck are we going?"

"The docks. I want to show our clients their new home." Chaos
giggled happily as she got off the turnpike, and Jamie rolled her
eyes. There was no stopping her Merc Mommy when she got on one of
these jags. You just had to ride it out.  erica and Bianca exchanged
uneasy looks.

At the marina, Chris slowly drove the van until she reached slip
#29. "This is it. The good ship "Iron Whim"," she stated, putting the
van in park. erica and Bianca came forward to check out the yacht.
Well, not exactly a yacht---more like a cabin cruiser, Jamie thought.
Grey with silver trim, about thirty feet long, with a Canadian flag
flying off the mast, the soon-to-be location of CERK was jaunty and
attractive, with a little bat painted next to the boat's name on the
hull.

"Very nice," erica said in approval, "but you couldn't get us
something bigger? More piratical? I could really get into this
hijacking stuff---"

"Hey, I'm doing this job for one bar of chocolate plus expenses.
Jamie gets half the chocolate and I have to give most of mine to the
Guild... so I figured you'd want to keep the 'expenses' down," the
MMG said with a glare. "If you want something bigger, you'll have to
hire me to steal it for you for more than fun and a song dedication."

The Nick&Natpacker's attempt to hijack CERK had short-circuited
sometime Sunday afternoon---Chris wasn't really clear on the details,
although she planned on pumping a certain Merc for info later---
because they'd tried to grab it at the source, without securing the
station. Which was why Chris had gone to all these pains to make
very, very sure that when she grabbed it, that (a) no one could get
it back for a week, and (b) her plan would completely bypass the
station and its personnel, who would certainly put up a fight if they
knew about it.

Christina didn't believe in giving warning if she didn't have to.

She put the van back in drive and headed out of the marina. "All of
the broadcasting equipment is on board already, along with enough
food for a week. You remember, after the signal is transferred to
your equipment, it's your responsibility.  And I can't guarantee I
won't be hired to get it back. You're going to have to avoid both the
Cousins, the Coast Guard, *and* the CRTC, as well as anyone else who
may want it."

"Understood," erica said breezily. "We're not exactly amateurs, you
know. We *have* done covert operations before."

Jamie hid a smile as Christina drily said, "Sorry, I forgot who I
was dealing with for a second," then turned up the radio as Seal's
"Crazy" came on and they headed out of town.


It was close to 1 AM by the time the van finally slowed down, about
twenty miles out in the countryside north of Toronto. Jamie was
mystified, but trusting. Chris had a plan, obviously; but why were
they way out here?

"Out," the MMG commanded, turning off the engine and hopping out of
the truck in a few fast motions. Jamie obeyed, curiousity overriding
irritation, and erica and Bianca complied also. Chris got the little
sidecar out of the back and unloaded the crystal receiver, the
cooler, the cable splicers, and the walkie talkies into it, then
hooked it up to the all-terrain cycle.

Jamie studied the surrounding area, then focused in on the only
visible evidence of civilization: a radio antenna transmitter in the
middle of a field, about five miles away. "So that's how we're going
to do it," she said, suddenly getting it.

"How?" Bianca asked, frowning at the equipment-filled sidecar

"We're going to take out CERK's transmitter and replace it with
ours," Jamie explained, grinning happily.

"Close enough." Chris dusted off her hands, then took the bolt
cutters and approached the fence surrounding the field where the
transmitter was.  "We're actually going to hook up a receiver to
their transmitter, so it can only broadcast erica & Bianca's
transmissions." She snipped a few wires on the electric fence, then
carefully folded back a portion of the chain-link to allow enough
room for the cycle. "Then we'll switch it over at the source, and the
Sisters Morrigna are on the air!"

"Cool." Jamie frowned suddenly though, seeing a hole in this plan.
"But can't the Cousins just come out here and fix it?"

"Ahhh, welllll," Chaos smiled brightly, then said to her clients,
"You don't want to know about that part. Get into the van," she threw
them a walkie-talkie, "put CERK on the radio, and power up the
transmitting equipment. When I tell you to, during one of those dead
spaces in between commercials, check to see if the
receiver/transmitter link is working for about five seconds. If it
is, we'll come right back.  DON'T start broadcasting then, give us
time to get back here. The terrain here is kind of rough, so it'll
take us twenty minutes to get there, then about twenty minutes to
complete the change-over, and twenty minutes back. We should be out
of here by 2 AM, and you'll be back at the marina by three, ready to
go on the air."

"What do we do if the police show up?" erica asked, frowning
uneasily at the thought.

Chris got on the cycle, and motioned for Jamie to get on behind her.
"Oh, if it looks like the police are on the way, ditch us and contact
Dianne."  She threw erica the keys to the van.

"What!?" Jamie shrieked, stiffening in shock, but her screech was
lost as Chris gunned the motor on the little cycle and drove it
through the gap in the fence, leaving their clients by the side of
the road.


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


CERK goes AWOL! (2/5)
MacGyver Would Be So Proud of Us
by Christina Kamnikar (w/the Sisters Morrigna & Jamie Randell)

1:19 AM, Monday morning, July 29th, somewhere in the Canadian
countryside


Twenty minutes later at the transmitter, Jamie was still fuming. "Are
you out of your mind? Why did you tell them to ditch us if we might
get caught?" She still hadn't quite forgiven Chris for the CN Tower
yet, either. But she was starting to enjoy herself... if she could
just stop thinking about police.

"Because they're our clients," Christina said patiently, "And if they
get caught, we don't get paid. I am *not* paying Guild fees for
putting my client in jail.  They agreed to expenses anyway, and that
covers bail." Jamie was chewing her lower lip, and Chris sighed. "Will
you relax? We're not going to get caught. I just had to cover all our
bases." She set up the small crystal receiver on the ground, and
connected a cable to it, saying, "Hold this while I get the door, will
you?"

"I still can't believe we're only doing this for one chocolate  bar
and a song dedication," Jamie muttered, shaking her head as Chris used
the wire snippers to cut out the intruder alarm on the door to the
transmitter's entrance. "I mean, this *is* fun... and I assume we're
going to stay on board the Iron Whim tonight?"

"Oh, I think that's possible."

"So we'll get to help broadcast tonight at least.  But why didn't you
charge them more?"

Chris frowned, turning on the lights inside the transmitter control
house. A short hallway with three doors, labelled BROADCAST ROOM,
SUPPLIES, and ELECTRICAL ROOM. She opened the last, unspooling the
cable as she went in, Jamie trailing after her. "Because I would have
hijacked it anyway. They were just the first clients I could find."

"So why didn't we hijack it for ourselves?"

"What, and not make a profit from it?" Chris shook her head. "You've
been hanging with the 'Pack too long."

"Have not."

"Have too. Oh, goody, here's the one I was looking for. Hand me  those
cable cutters?"

Jamie handed them over. "Have _not_. And why do this if we're going to
give it to erica and Bianca? Especially for so little profit?"

"It's not the *having*, Jamie. Having CERK is not the point. I'm not
obsessed with possession," Chris replied, carefully exposing the inner
wires of the CERK transmission cable, and using the splicers to
connect the Sister Morrigna cable to the CERK one. "It's the taking.
It's being able to pull it off. It's... well, it's not nice, but it's
the rush I get from doing something illegal and getting away with it.
It's a Merc thing." She finished splicing in the transmission cable
and soldered the wires in place.

"Alright, maybe I do understand," Jamie admitted, thinking of her
first job and her pride in pulling it off; but also thinking 'the lady
doth protest too much'. Chris opened up the cooler and took a vial of
clear, golden liquid out of an icepack, and placed it into a little
holder hooked up to what looked like a timer. "Uh, Chris?"

"Yeah?"

"Is that what I think it is?"

"Probably." The MMG giggled again, and this time Jamie giggled with
her.

"So *that's* how you're going to keep the Cousins from retaking it.
Contact explosives and nitroglycerin. Very MacGyver," the
Natpacker/Merc said in approval.

"Thanks. I got it wholesale from a distributor up here.  Sometimes
being in the mining industry is a definite plus for a Merc," Chaos
commented.

"Why the timer? You're not going to blow up the transmitter..."

"No no no. The timer's actually hooked up to the wiring; I only
promised the station to erica and Bianca for a week.  When a week is
up," Chris pointed to but didn't touch the setup, "the nitro will
short out the wiring to the Morrigna transmitter. If anyone messes
with it beforehand, the whole smeer goes BOOM."

"Smeer?"

"Didn't I say it right?"

"Schmeer," Jamie said, giving the word the full Brooklyn treatment.

"Schmeer," Chris mimicked. She grinned. "Now to put the receiver in
place and do the preliminary switchover." The two Mercs went outside,
and Chris climbed the outside access ladder to the roof of the control
house. Jamie lifted the crystal receiver up to her---resolutely not
looking down while she was on the ladder---and Chris placed the
receiver as close to the CERK antenna as she could, then taped it down
with duct tape and more contact explosives.

Back inside, Chris and Jamie went to the Control Room and turned up
the volume on the main receiver. Lacroix's voice filled the room, rich
and pedantic and gorgeous. He was quoting Shakespeare again:

        "...the summer's flower is to the summer sweet
        Though to itself it only live and die,
        But if that flower with base infection meet
        The basest weed outbraves his dignity;
                For sweet things turn sourest by their deeds,
                Lilies that fester smell far worse than weeds."


"So shines a good deed in a naughty world," Chris growled under her
breath as she turned down the volume, earning a speculative look from
Jamie, then lifted the walkie-talkie to her mouth and spoke. "Captain
Hook, are you there?"

"We copy, Wendy," erica laughed.

"Uncle should be shutting up in a few seconds. Prepare for test."
Chris checked the monitors, ignoring Jamie's look for as long as she
could, then turned and asked "What?" in annoyance.

"That's why you're really doing this, isn't it?

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"You just want to get under Lacroix's skin."

"What a revolting image," Chris grimaced, her eyebrows doing the
Klingon/Vulcan imitation they always did when she was irritated.

"Admit it," Jamie was laughing now. "You want to do something that'll
make him furious. That's what this is about. You hated the way Uncle
threatened you last War, after he found out we grabbed CERK."

"Maybe I did and maybe I didn't..."

"No maybes."

"Okay, okay, yes. You're right. I wanted revenge for the 'Uncle
treatment' I got at the War Wrap Party.  Happy?" Chris glared at her
Mercenary protege, who nodded cheerfully. "Fabulous. Testing now," she
said into the walkie-talkie, as she flipped the switches that shorted
out the transmission cable. Nothing happened for a second, so she
pounded on the board, muttering, "C'mon, stupid thing..." As long as
no one was broadcasting on the receiver, Lacroix and CERK would still
be on the air. But the second erica and Bianca started their own
broadcast, CERK would be gone. It finally changed over after a
particularly vicious thump. "Have you got it?" she asked over the
walkie-talkie.

"Yup. Morrigna Air is fully operational," erica responded jubilantly.
"Mission accomplished."

Chris smiled and Jamie crowed with glee. "Copy that, Captain Hook.
We'll be at the rendezvous in twenty minutes."

"Acknowledged."

The two Mercs exited the Control tower, congratulating each other on a
job well done, and looking forward to the fun of a night's worth of
radio piracy before heading back to Merc Central.  The cycle didn't
have a radio on it, which was a serious oversight. The Sisters
Morrigna weren't supposed to start transmitting until Chris and Jamie
were back at the van. If they'd had a radio, Chris would have gotten
on the walkie-talkie when she heard what started going out across AM
490 the second after the two of them left the transmitter.

"What do we play first?"

"Chris's request, 'Banditos'. It's by the Refreshments."

"The one with Captain Jean-Luc Picard mentioned?"

"Yeah, with the stupid people refrain."

"Oooh, good. I like that one... and some KISS for Jamie..."

Twenty miles away, the city of Toronto and various Nightcrawler
devotees realized that something weird was going on...

To be continued in part 3/5 by Lisa McDavid!


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


The lonely Knightie

Hollywood California - 1:30 am.....

By Angie -


She is just sitting there staring at the screen. Watching all the War
mail fly by. Musing, waiting, learning, watching, always watching....
She knows she needs to fit in, she knows that she will be getting the
call soon. Maybe they can call on her to go underground, spy, anything
will quench her thirst for the war. Just wanting to belong... she
waits for the call.


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


False Starts
by Cousins erica and Bianca Hall

within Christina's CERK goes AWOL series
between 1:40 and 2:15 a.m.
Monday 29th

Sometime after their last radio contact with Christina and Jamie and
sometime before the 20 pre-rendez-vous minutes were used up, something
happened. Whether Bianca sat on the transmit button, erica spilled
iced tea on the equipment, or one of Canada's bugs committed suicide
by throwing itself into the electronics - no explanation has satisfied
us yet - somehow, erica and Bianca began broadcasting white noise and
then candid conversation well before schedule.

"Is it me and my lack of sleep or has LaCroix become... well,
annoying?"

Bianca slapped down a three of spades. "He's annoying. Especially
since we learned about that green girlfriend of his, since we heard
about him getting all emotional over Spike the goldfish..." She
straightened the discard pile thoughtfully. "He's been adding more
colour to his ensembles -have you noticed?"

"It's just a hint more." erica picked up a fresh card and threw away a
jack. "My problem is with the fabrics. Demin, common cotton blends. i
caught wind - just rumoured, now - of a Member's Only jacket in his
closet... i think he's anticipating another retro-fad. He's trying to
be fashionable, is the problem."

"Shoot." Bianca itched to snatch the jack for herself but settled for
a draw from the stockpile. "I hate this game... He hasn't gotten rid
of that rock band yet. Night in, night out, noise, noise, noise. I
thought he was going to turn the Raven into a supper club."

"Like in 'The Great Muppet Caper'. Yeah, that was disappointing."
erica began displaying her hand onto the van's floor. "I'm tired of
Shakespeare, Milton, and the Bible."

"Shoot! I really hate this game," Bianca spit from between gritted
teeth, disgusted that erica wrote in a win for she herself. "At least
it's not Barbara Taylor Bradford or John Grisham."

"Maybe it should be Bradford or Grisham. Then we'd have some variety."
She promptly gave Bianca a noogie. "We could laugh at the show once in
a while. He should have comedy segments."

Bianca pushed herself away from erica's armpit and smoothed down her
hair. "And get a puppet sidekick."

"Absolutely. For the kids."

"The puppet could read Barbara Taylor Bradford... She's a romance
writer, right? The puppet could read the sex scenes and LaCroix the
gripping, thought-provoking dialogue."

"And then, afterwards," erica suggested, "they'd have a discussion on
the major themes, Bradford's expert diction..."

"Character believability, originality and execution of plot..."

"The social issues presented and the book's projection of the future,
"Bianca agreed.

"And then, perhaps afterward, they'd take turns reading from some of
their own work."

"We are tired."

"We are really tired," erica nodded, looking at Bianca's watch. "i'm
never up this late unless its finals week."

"I'm never up this late," Bianca sighed. "I'm so tired that I'm seeing
red, flashing lights on Chris' big grey box."

erica rubbed her eyes nearly shut. "Me too."

"...Isn't that the radio broadcasting equipment?"

"Oh, is it?" erica yawned. She stopped, her mouth still pried and jaw
popped open.

The two jumped up. "Move, i'll turn it off!" "Okay, okay - can you
find the power switch??" "i don't know yet! How long has it been on??"
"I have no idea, just turn it off, turn it off!" They fiddled here,
clicked there, punch, kicked, and hiya!ed everywhere else.

"Wait," erica paused assaulting Christina's expensive hardware just as
Bianca spotted the proper buttons - Push-To-Talk, mute, off. erica
covered the microphone. "Look, we're on anyway, the damage is done...
um, we can wipe off shoe scuff-prints, right?... let's just start
early."

Just as Bianca was about to disagree, just for the heck of it, they
both heard the distant whine of police sirens.

"Do you think Chris and Jamie are getting caught?" Bianca asked.

"We don't want to find out." erica stood up - not enough so she
slammed her head against the roof, though - while searching for the
ignition key in her pants pocket.


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


Vamp Up the Volume (1/3)
(title inspired by Bonnie Pardoe)
by Cousins erica and Bianca Hall
(with input from Christina Kamnikar and Lisa McDavid who also provided
us with input for "False Start" which we forgot to mention)
(Why, do we sound like a credit freaks?)

immediately after "False Start"
Mon, 7/29 at 2 a.m.-ish through Wed, 7/31 at about 3 a.m.


   "Everybody knows that the world is full of stupid people
    So meet me at the border and we'll divvy up there..."

About 3 repeat playings of The Refreshments' "Banditos", erica and
Bianca began to wonder if they had gotten such a good deal, after all.
A lone song dedication was one thing, for the possession of the CERK
airwaves, but having to play the tune over and over and over again...?

"Well, we left all of *our* CDs in the yacht. We weren't supposed to
be on the air until we got back," erica muttered. It wasn't Chris'
fault they two were ready to stuff that singer and the rest of his
happy group into their 5 gallons hats - so disliking of the song were
they (Just kidding, Chris! Conflict and drama for fiction, you know.
No, no, the radio stations down here don't overplay that song at
all...) but it *was* Chris' fault that more CDs weren't stored in the
van.

"Isn't it a nice feeling, though, to know that all of Toronto is
suffering with us...? Assuming they're still listening? I really liked
the Next Generation reference the first time around," Bianca sighed
into her cupped palms. She leant over to one side, trying to see if
Chris and Jamie had anything else stashed away. The dull glint of
jewel box plastic winked from just under the front passenger's seat.
"K-I-S-S? What's KISS? Is this an instructional CD? That one guy sure
has got the equipment for it. I don't even think Jen's horse has a
tongue that long..."

"That sounds familiar. Let me see..." The van swerved briefly as erica
got her better look. "Oh - i think those are... those guys. That band
Jamie likes. They're from a long time ago, remember? Vine Als... 9-
tracks... Charlie's Angels roller skates derbys... H.R. Puff n' Stove
Top Stuffing... Syd and Marty Kraft Macaroni and Cheese... or
something like that?" Bianca kept blinking at the jewel case. "No, i
guess not," erica continued. "Well, i don't really remember, either...
But it's the wierdest thing; i dreamt a KISS tribute band or
impersonators or something gave a wake-up concert that first morning
we spent at CERK, with all the other Cousins. What a coincidence."

"I dreamt the same thing, too," Bianca said quietly. "At least, I
*thought* it was a dream. Very wierd." She replaced the Refreshments
disc with KISS and chose a song randomly.

     "I wanna rock and roll all night...!!!"

erica and Bianca continued silently on their way back to the marina
and Christina's waiting yacht, letting the song slowly yet feverishly
progress to its end. And when it was through, Bianca removed the disc
from the player and said, "And we did *that* for Jamie. I'm going put
these discs in the very back of the van, now, under these spare tires,
assorted heavy blankets, and ready-to-pour concrete."

"Yes, why don't you do that," erica agreed. "i've had enough history
lessons for today. Oh, you know what?" She reached into her jacket
pocket, avoiding the Cousin-issued cell phone with as much tact as she
could muster. They were a disobedient pair but even these delinquents
felt the guilt. "I have..." She pulled out a blank-labeled cassette
tape "...Bonnie Pardoe's demo. i forgot to tell you it came in the
mail the day before we left for Canada. See?" She slipped it in.

     "See the stone set in your eyes
      see the thorn twist in your side
      I wait for you
      sleight of hand and twist of fate
      on a bed of nails you make me wait
      and I wait... without you."

erica and Bianca collectively sighed at Bonnie's first words, her
voice clean and gentle. They were reminded of the other fab foursome -
Bono's crying voice, Edge's clinging guitar, Larry's pitter-pats, and
Adam's simple bass - and settled contentedly into their seats and just
listened, along with the rest of Toronto.


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


Vamp Up the Volume, part 2
by erica and Bianca Hall

"Okay, enough of that pretty stuff!" Bianca cried as they pulled up to
the good ship Iron Whim's parking... boating space. She and erica ran
inside, necessary equipment in tow, and set sail, the loudest, most
discordant music rock they could find in their collection rattling
through the microphone.

    "I NEVER LET ON
     THAT I WAS ON A SINKING SHIP...!"

"No, no, bad luck! Play STP instead... no, wait - Hole. Well,
whatever. Get something else loud," erica hissed at Bianca before
clearing her throat and clicking the microphone switch. She verbally
introduced CERK's audience to the new format for the first time. "Good
morning, Toronto. You're listening to M-O-R-R-I-G-N-A AT CERK, the
radio show whose DJs can last longer than its name. Yes, you thought
we'd never get through all those call letters? Just sit through the
rest of the show with us... Try us. We plan to be here a while. It's
Fred Bernie and Bob Attracta, coming to you from downtown Toronto, in
the heart of Nightcrawler territory... who, incidentally, is taking a
sabbatical, suffering from exhaustion, discovered an allergy to his
medication... all those things you typically hear. Isn't that right,
Bob?"

"Absolutely, Fred," Bianca ah-yupped in her best Mid-West-relatives-
we-all-have-somewhere way.

"Right, Bob. Should i tell them what's up next, Bob?"

"Absolutely, Fred."

"Sure thing, Bob. First up, some happy great-way-to-start-your-day
music. i'd have that coffee... give us juuuust a second here... now."
At erica's frantic console-tappings, Bianca unpaused her disc.

Then, in the loudest whisper you've ever heard, came: "No, I'm not
myself today... JE SUIS SALOME... I AM ROMANTIC! JE SUIS APOLLO... I
AM GIGANTIC! Hey! Stronzo...,"


Up-and-coming radio personalities Fred and Bob briefly stepped outside
of the yacht's control room, nautical maps in hand.

"i think that's the marina, where Chris drew in all those little
boats. We have to make sure we keep moving around so we can't get
caught."

"Yes, yes, I *was* paying attention when we all went over this the
first time," Bianca huffed.

"Well, i want to make sure everyone else... the three people who are
reading, i mean, are still following along okay," erica shrugged.
"Come to think of it, how about if we try a little experiment in
sublimination? We could plant hidden messages for the listmembers who
are skimming - you think?"

"How about we get them to donate money to the AWOL Cousins' league? It
could go to redecorating the Fe-Malefaction Headquarters. We need to
tune up the Evil Caddy. Nat's red apartment could use new paint - a
whoooole different colour, too."

"We'll see, we'll see. We wouldn't want to get any more disciplinary
mail, just in case people are still reading carefully." erica turned
back to the charts. "Now we've got to stay well away from the sea
serpents, giant squid, and Free Willys Chris scrawled in block C-7.
That must be near the St. Lawrence river and the way out to the
ocean."

"Ug, we're going to have to switch off sleep schedules or something so
one of us is always at the helm. I'm going to be so bored not having
someone to talk to."

"Then we'll both stay up. We'll play bouncy Altan tunes and break in
our tap shoes. We'll play Brian Setzer and break in our leopard coats
and cat's eye glasses. We'll play Gavin Friday and break our eardrums.
And i'd actually like to get a few songs specifically for some other
listmembers. i ran into Kristina the other day and we got to talking
music. She gave me Poe and Tori Amos tapes... a bunch of stuff -
you'll have to look through it all. Come on," erica urged, hearing
"Caruso" come its final refrains.

Bianca tottered after her older sister. "We've got coffee made,
right...?"


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


Vamp Up the Volume, part 3 of 3
by erica and Bianca Hall
(credit to the guy who created those Sci-Fi Channel specials for
tonight's simulcast)


Come Tuesday night, Fred and Bob -  not content to merely *talk* the
whole time they were on air, unlike *some* DJs they knew (unless it
was to announce that Bob was going to the bathroom or screaming "WE
HAVE LIFT-OFF!" when Fred burped) - melted every album they had into
silverly little puddles of CD silly putty. Now, what to do next, they
wondered?

"Want to know what i'm wearing before The Big Cheese gets back with
his little show?" erica breathed. "Sure, with him, you get naked. But
what have i possibly got on... on the outside?" Bianca accompanied on
the bongo drums as erica continued in a voice slippery and languorous:
"What lays next to me in my bed <bonga-bonga>, what sighs across my
thighs as i walk? <bonga-bonga> Should we tell the people?" she cooed.

Bianca cleared her throat with a hack and screeched, "A-YUP Frehhhhd!"

"Well," erica purred, "On Mondays and Wednesdays i have my turquoise
mu-mu."

"Yes!" chirupped Bianca the fashion host. "But today being Tuesday,
Fred is adorned in a lovely macrame sweats and hugging argyle
bodysuit, a perfect ensemble for California summer wear. The scratchy
and air-tight fabric has given Fred the delightfully unexpected wet
look. <recorded applause>"

"Bob, here," picked up erica, "sports a sequined tube top which
threatens to burst, her fat injections having taken so well. Please
note the afflicted decolletage, slavered with benzoyl peroxide. What a
difference a balanced diet and daily showers make, eh? And she's sure
to be a killer in her 4-inch spiked platform sneakers. How stunning."
She cupped her hand over the microphone (so much easier than finding
the "mute" button). "Hark! i hear wretching across the Great Wide
North!" she grimaced at Bianca. "We shall now broadcast tonight's Big
Scary Movie Show."

Bianca carried the mike over to the cabin's coffee table beside the
tortellini bowl and Hansen's soda fountain, she had managed to rig up
eariler in the day, while erica hosted the hour-long segment "Guess
What's In My Sandwich?" [the prizes for which included invitations to
the Nightcrawler's home (address given out over the air) and a peek
into fictionalized Knightie diaries (please bring your own water
balloons)]. erica dropped Lord of Illusions into the LD player, the
goriest movie the two hadn't seen yet. Bianca hooked the mike cord to
the ceiling and aimed it directly above the couch, the microphone's
sensitivity set to high so that each smack, slobber, and crunch of the
twosome's could be heard in tandem with the film's sound effects.


At around midnight, Bianca sat down in her broadcaster's chair with a
notebook and her economics text book. She turned on her mike. "Some
people criticize GNP as a measure of economic well-being because it
reflects output rather than individual welfare." If this had been an
actual episode, the camera would have jerked away from its tight shot
of Bianca's lips, completely baffled.

"What are you doing?" erica called from inside her folded arms, woozy
and curled across the console top, not falling asleep but... resting a
while, just closing her eyes for a second, that's all... "What?!" she
snorted, sitting up.

"Homework," Bianca said, matter-of-factly. "Why or why wouldn't this
be a fair assumption? And while we're on the subject of my homework,
would someone out there like to tell me how the declining value of the
dollar would affect exports? The number's 555-CROK. i'll now open the
phone lines..."

erica watched the switchboard lights falsh with waxing and waning
interest. She finally propped her eyes open with fingers and thumbs.

"Yes, Linda from North York."

"Hi, Bob. First off, I just wanted to say how much I love your show
and that I think you guys are doing a great job..."

Bianca quickly switched over to the second line. "Oops, we seem to
have lost Linda. Which is quite all right; it's really best to stop
wierdos where they start. We just don't need those kind of calls. How
about... Frank?"

"I... I just need someone to talk to. I... This is very hard for me,"
he sighed apologetically. "I think I'm going crazy. I can't eat, I
can't sleep. I haven't kept a job or had a steady relationship for a
couple of years now..."

"Uh, huh," Bianca burbled thoughtfully. "Now, let's say the situation
was between Japan and America, for example, and let's say, just for
explanatory purposes, that the dollar had fallen from being equal to
one yen to being half as valuable."

"We'd export fewer products, because Japan would be getting less for
their money," Frank promptly answered. He sighed again. "I haven't
seen my dad in a while. We parted badly last month, after his fifth
wedding..."

"Uh huh..." Bianca scribbled "exporting decreases" into her notebook.


By 2 in the morning, both Cousins were slumped about and around the
control room, lulled to sleep by a Gavin Friday's beautifully smoke-
hoarsened voice - its source the VCR, beside the receiving mike. They
were so sound asleep that neither one noticed the crackle and dead
silence some 15 minutes later.


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


CERK goes AWOL! (3/5)

How Now, Brown Cow?
by Lisa McDavid in cahoots with Christina Kamnikar.

2:53 AM, Monday morning, July 29th

Lisa McDavid smiled dreamily to herself, murmuring.

"They never saw CERK's human cow,
They'd never hoped to see one,
But oh, they'll tell you loudly now,
They'd rather see than be one."

Just then the police dragged Cherri, with her mooer lowing wildly, and
Leslie, still kicking and trying to bite, up to the squad car and
thrust them in. Since they, like Lisa, were handcuffed, they were
still sorting themselves out as the cops climbed into the front seat
and drove off.

Lisa's smile broadened. Cousins June Williams and Will Steeves had
obviously eluded the cops, since all personel were accompanying them
back to town.

Then Lisa developed a glazed look which normally meant that she hadn't
bothered to put on her glasses in the middle of the night. (Well,
somebody has to have this flashback, and Nick wasn't here ... <g>)

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

The long-short, long-short alarm from one of the Cousins' special cell
phones shattered the silence in the operations room. Cousin Debbie
Parks, on the left side of the Cousins switchboard, reached over to
the adjacent pc and clicked on an icon.

"erica," flashed the computer screen in huge, red letters.

The special program which automatically dialed Cousin Headquarters
when certain cousins came in contact with certain voices had worked
without a glitch.

Co-leaders Lisa McDavid and Tok hurried over. Merlin hissed at the
boink-boink-boink sound effect; Willow hid under the nearest chair.
Tok hit enter and the noise stopped.

A map of Toronto appeared on screen, with a blinking red cursor to
indicate the cell phone's position.

Meanwhile Cousin Luz Funtowicz, the other switchboard operator on
duty, suppressed the Nightcrawler feed to the command center. A one-
way line opened from the cell phone in Cousin erica's pocket.

All but one of the Cousins listened grimly as the plot was relayed.
Lisa hurried downstairs to the residence accomodations and began to
knock on doors.

Within five minutes Will Steeves, with Lisa in the passenger seat,
drove out of the Cerk garage in his car.  Leslie "Loose Cannon" Grant-
Smith followed, at the wheel of Lacroix's Jaguar; Cherri sat beside
her and June Williams covered the rear from the back.

"Bat out of Hell" was the appropriate cliche for the speed at which
they arrived just over the hill from the CERK transmitter.
*****************************************************************

Lisa frowned. "You mean this is the closest we can get?"

"By car, anyway," Will told her.

"But it's not something we can just run -- wait a minute!" Too late
the rest of the Cousins noticed that whatever was in the ancient Girl
Scout canteen at Lisa's side had a distinct smell of mangoes.

Leslie and Will made a grab at the canteen, but Cherri interposed.
"No, let her get tanked. She does her best work like that."

"Thanks," said Lisa. "Want some?"

Great oaks, it's said, from little acorns grow. Certainly the pause
while Lisa and Cherri gulped Zombie Beachcombers was to have far
larger effect than the seconds it took.

June had time to spot the shed on the other side of the dead end,
investigate it and find the two all terrain vehicles in it. Will had
time to look into Lacroix's Jag, thereby discovering the four-wheel
drive switch.

It was not, unfortunately, long enough to stop Lisa and Cherri from
noticing the herd of cows in the field beside them. Before the rest of
the Cousins could react, the two clambered over the the fence, and
approached the herd.

The cows took one look at the bipedal bovine with the sepulcral moo
which was running toward them. A second look was impossible, as all
hands --er, hooves -- stampeded over the hill.

Cherri and Lisa vaulted onto the backs of two of the coward cows and
were borne swiftly out of sight. Their rebel yells drifted back as the
three remaining Cousins threw themselves frantically into the all
terrain vehicles and Lacroix's now four wheel drive Jaguar.

Dodge City was never like this. Forty-three hysterical cows charged in
directions which haven't been invented yet as Christina and Jamie
frantically tried to avoid playing tag with hundreds of pounds of
demented hamburger. Will, Leslie and June sped to the rescue, only to
find themselves under fire from an infuriated farmer in an ancient
Chevy, the farmer's son on yet another all terrain vehicle, and local
law enforcement in a squad car.  Cows bawled, engines roared and
whined, humans yelled. Birdshot (mercifully the farmer's shotgun was
not loaded with anything more lethal) sleeted.

It took three patrol cars and a helicopter from the RCMP to get the
situation under control.

And the rest, alas, you know.


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


Box of Books number four of five
By. Heather Parks


This takes place in the middle of CERK goes AWOL!


This was the fourth box of books Heather had ordered. All the little
brown books made were by experts who used different handwriting, inks,
and aged materials. This was that latest delivery. "One should go to
IA. They might be interested in one of them."

Nick has to come to town to identify the real one. He can't have the
knighties getting every expert in Canada. There aren't enough of them
to find which one is the real from all these fakes. Even if they have
a sample of the real hand writing.

The box was dropped to the floor "who would, who could have this. This
is sick." Screaming was not going to do any good.

Heather carefully put the Brad Pitt biographies back into the box.
Trying not to look at them to carefully or disturbed any finger
prints, after all most war participants had been booked at one time or
the another. At the bottom of the pile books was a letter sealed with
a wax stamp. "Cute," opening carefully tearing around to seal she read
the letter.

                               I think not

Curiouser and Curiouser, She headed back to Head-Quarters maybe they
could help her with this dilemma.

Brad Pitt, yuk.

____________________________________________________________

Turning on the car radio to CERK hearing the Banditos, Heather knew
there had been trouble.


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


CERK goes AWOL! (4/5)
Do Not Pass Go, Do Not Collect Any Chocolate
by Christina Kamnikar (w/Jamie Randell & Lisa McDavid helping)

2:53 AM, Monday morning, July 29th


Christina grimly studied the squad car that she and Jamie had been
shepherded into; and even more grimly studied the handcuff on her
wrist, attached to the grille between the front and back seats. This
was not a good thing. A new experience yes, certainly; but hadn't
someone once said that experience is what you get when you don't get
what you want?

At least Lisa and her crew were in a separate paddy wagon.

The Toronto P.D. had evidently hooked up a new alarm to the electric
fence at some point after the last time the plans were updated. The
nice officer had informed Chris that yes, cutting through the fence
where she'd done so *had* turned off the electric current---and set
off the silent alarm downtown. The MMG promised herself that after she
got out of jail, she'd have a little talk with her blueprint supplier
about keeping her informed on new developments.

Right now the police had taken _everyone_ into custody, since the
scrimmage they'd interrupted had involved two cars, one all-terrain
cycle, and the property of a nearby irate farmer.  Christina was only
mildly consoled by the thought that the Cousins were responsible for
wrecking the man's fence and scaring the cows. Unfortunately, she knew
enough law to be pretty certain that as the indirect cause of the
chase that led to the property damage, the Mercs would probably be the
ones blamed for it.

The squad car slowed down, and Chris blinked through the window and
the driving rain at a very familiar building. "The 96th?" she
whispered in shock.

Jamie leaned forward to get a look out the window and gave a little
yelp of joy. "We're home! Familiar territory! This is great!"

Chris shifted and grimaced at her handcuffs again. "Are you sure about
that?"

It was eerie. Norma the desk clerk was there; all the half-familiar
faces of the other detectives; the building itself---Jamie couldn't
get over the fact that they were on Nick's home turf. Of course, Nick
wasn't there right now. Neither was Tracy. But still... there was
Cohen's old office, and down that way were the interrogation rooms,
and there was Reese's nemesis, the water cooler. "This is so cool."

The younger police detective shot her a wary glance, and Chaos elbowed
her in the side and muttered, "Will you cut it out? These guys look
like they're going to call in a shrink for a psych evaluation at any
second." The MMG glared across the room at Lisa McDavid, whose eyes
narrowed thoughtfully as she sat down to give her statement to the
officer who'd taken her into custody.

Chris and Jamie's statements were pretty simple: "I don't know what
you're talking about. We were just out driving around. I have no idea
who those people are.  I want my lawyer." Even really simple questions
like 'what's your name?' were answered with "I'm exercising my right
to remain silent. I want my lawyer."

But after the police got through taking Lisa and her cohorts'
statements, they were less willing to tolerate the Mercs' deliberate
lack of cooperation.

"We know that you---" one of the detectives, the one that looked like
Sipowitcz on NYPD BLUE, pointed to Christina with a pencil, and the
dark-haired MMG merely raised one eyebrow and looked bored, although
she was fairly unhappy at that moment, "--are Christina Kamnikar, an
American visiting in Toronto, and a member of a roleplaying
convention. And it appears that we have a great deal of evidence that
you're responsible for the recent hijacking of the CERK radio
station." Chris yawned.

"And you---" Jamie's eyes widened, who-me? written all over her face,
"are Jamie Randell, also an American, also part of this role-playing
game, also known as 'the Web Goddess' for some reason, and we're
fairly certain we can prove that you helped your friend hijack the
signal." The detective threw the pencil on the table, and exchanged a
frustrated glance with his partner, a younger detective who was
nondescript to the point of invisibility. "What we don't understand is
why you did it, and who has it now. If you cooperate with us, we'll
consider this a prank. High spirits. If you don't..." He let the
phrase trail off menacingly.

"You're bluffing," Jamie said.

"I want my lawyer," Chris added calmly.

At this, the detective threw his hands in the air and snarled, "I give
up. It's too late at night to deal with this bullshit. We're putting
you in a cell until we can arraign you in the morning. We'll see if
you're still refusing to cooperate then." He frowned at Chris. "_Then_
you'll get your damn lawyer."

The door didn't actually go "clink", and it was a pretty nice cell as
far as jail cells went, but it still sent chills through Jamie's
spine. She'd come close to getting arrested a couple times before; you
couldn't follow KISS through most of the lower 48 states without
running into trouble once or twice. But as clean and quiet as the the
96th's holding cells were, she really, really didn't want to stay
here. Unless Nick or Tracy or even the ghost of Schanke was going to
get her out. Chris had collapsed onto the low bench along the wall and
appeared to have fallen asleep within seconds. Jamie never ceased to
be impressed by her Merc Mommy's ability to conk out anywhere,
anytime.

A hooker in the next cell peered at Jamie, and asked, "What are you in
for? Breaking and entering?"

"Failure to get an assembly permit," Jamie said, hanging her arms
through the bars and checking out the other woman. "Nice tattoo."

"Thanks. It's hard to find someone who can get the violet right on
these... who did yours?" The streetwalker frowned and drew back from
the bars as the door leading to the cells opened, and a tall, pale man
dressed all in black entered on silent feet. Jamie gulped as the
hooker moved away, muttering, "Man, it got chilly in here all of a
sudden."

Ice-blue eyes surveyed Jamie, then moved to the prone Christina, who
suddenly sat straight up and croaked, "Oh, wow... baaaad dream, Jamie.
I thought Lacroix---" she stopped speaking abruptly, smiling weakly at
the figure on the other side of the bars. "Oh. Hi."

"Hi," Lacroix mimicked her, then glowered at both of them. "Tell me,
Ms. Kamnikar. Didn't you believe me when I said I'd kill you if you
did this again?"


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


A Sound Revenge

Time: 12:00 A.M. Sunday the 28th

Toronto, Ontario.

Kevin motioned Laura outside.  As they left, he picked up the large
duffel bag he had arrived with.  "I should have put these in before
this." He apologized as he pulled several small devices out of the
bag.

"What are they?" Laura asked, they looked a little like part of a
security light.

"Infrared motion detectors." Kevin explained as he pulled out a box
with 6 LEDs and a small speaker.  "They're a positive switch design so
if anyone cuts the wire leading to the box an alarm will sound.  If
anyone moves into the detectors range, the alarm will sound.  I didn't
know how many to bring so we might have a few blind spots."

"How long to install them?"

"Maybe 2 hours.  After that I want to pay the Cousins a visit.  I have
a little payback for them."

"Such as?"

"I'm going to hit them where it really hurts.  LaCroix's pride."

"Tell me about it." Laura listened as Kevin whispered his plan.  She
started grinning about halfway through.

*****************************************************
CERK 3:00 A.M.

"Explain to me what we're doing on the roof?" John asked as he watched
Kevin unscrewing a vent cover.

"You're here to hold the rope."

"And what are you going to be doing?"

"I'm going in through the vents and do a little creative work on
LaCroix's radio equipment."

"Oh!, Then what?"

"We get the hell out of here before someone spots us."
******************************************************

Kevin worked his way down through the ventilation system as quietly as
possible, finally he reached LaCroix's studio.  Opening the Vent cover
he lowered himself inside.

"OK, here's the main console, and this is the on air switch... AHA!"
He pulled out a small screwdriver and opened a panel.   Tracing the
wiring he found the connections he was looking for.  Cutting the wires
leading to the transmitter he spliced in the tape player.  He then
secured everything in with a metal cover and replaced the panel.
Nothing less that taking the whole unit apart would show the tampering
now.  Then he made his way back up the vent shaft. "I really need to
lose some weight."

"How did it go?"

"All done. Now lets book."  The two quickly made their way off the
roof and back to ground level.
**************************************************
Susan's house a while later.

"So what now?" Laura watched as Kevin finished rewiring a small radio.

"Judy, would you mind just dropping this off at the front door of CERK
and getting back here?"

"No problem." Judy took off with the small transistor radio.
**************************************************
April grumbled as there was a Knock on the door.  When she looked
through the peephole she didn't see anyone outside.

"What is it?" On of the other cousins asked.

"You got me." She cautiously opened the door expecting to see another
letter from the Nick and Nat packers.

"Well?" Another cousin asked.

"It's a radio" She picked it up.  It was tuned to CERK's frequency and
there was a small note attached.

Opening the note, April read aloud. "This has been playing for the
last hour."

The radio clicked on by itself and LaCroix's voice came out of it.
"You have a friend in the NightCrawler."

"Weird." April frowned. "The General isn't broadcasting now."

Suddenly the voice changed. "I love you, you love....."

With a snarl April threw the radio across the room with enough force
to silence it.
************************************************
Susan's house.

"How long with this last?" Laura asked through her laughter.

"About 3 more hours before the battery geeks." Kevin replied as he
looked at his watch.

"What if they find the player and take it out?"

"Then they'll have to find something to replace this." Kevin held up a
foot long piece of wire. "It's the wire that runs from the equipment
to the transmitter. When I put in the player, I cut this out."


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


TOO MUCH AIN'T ENOUGH
The Old Church
near-on 4 am, Monday July 29th

by Bonnie Pardoe (with thanks to Sarah Houghton)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Vachon had finally left the confines of the church.  He wanted to be
alone; there were still so many things that he needed to think
through.  He wasn't even in the mood to fly, so he simply walked the
streets of downtown Toronto.

He thought about going to see Tracy, but he really didn't know what to
say to her.  "Thanks for staking me, Babe, but some other chicks
decided to dig me up."  \\Yeah, that would sit real well with her!
Later, after those people leave.\\  He would think about Tracy then.

He wondered about Urs.  He couldn't feel her in the city.  She must
have run after what happened.  She could be anywhere in the world.  He
stopped and sat down on a bench outside Eaton Center.  It was entirely
possible that he would never see her again -- he suddenly felt sick to
his stomach.

Eventually, Vachon found himself back at the church.  He walked in
through the front this time.  Sarah, who was industriously painting
the front doors, waved her red-paint covered brush at the returning
vampire.  He smiled, but did not take his hands out of the pockets of
his jeans.

Inside, Vachon made a beeline for the crates of blood.  He'd gone
through a lot in the last twenty-four odd hours.  He picked up a
bottle and pulled the cork off.  As he raised it to his lips, he
caught the distinctive sent of pig blood.  "Damn," he swore under his
breath.  He grabbed another bottle and uncorked it -- swine, again!
He moved to the other crate:  it, too, contain only bottles of pig's
blood.

He looked around for someone to yell at, but only Sarah was insight.
"Where the hell is the blood?"  He tried not to yell at the girl, \\I
shouldn't take it out on her.\\  He took a deep breath and continued
to stare at her.

Sarah's palms grew sweaty.  She didn't like it when vampires got
*that* tone in their voices and this one had been sounding that way a
lot lately!  She pointed at the two crates Vachon was standing next
to.

"No.  These are the ones with pig's blood," he said as if speaking to
someone a mere fraction of his age.

"No-no th-they're not," she stuttered.  She pointed down at the crate
just inside the front door.  "Th-this is th-the p-p-p-p- swine blood."

Vachon strode quickly over and grabbed one of the two bottles left in
the crate Sarah was indicating.  He pulled the cork out and sniffed
the contents.  He angrily pointed at the far crates -- the sudden
movement made an already nervous Sarah flinch.

"*Those* are the ones with pig's blood," he informed her.  "*This* is
*my* stuff," he held the bottle out for her inspection.  She squinted
at it with her grayish eyes.

"Where is the rest of it?"  Vachon tried to keep his voice calm.

"I-I, um," Sarah swallowed hard and prayed that Vachon wasn't really
that hungry. "I-I u-used i-it."

Vachon raised a questioning eyebrow at the brunette.  "Used it?"

"We-well, I-I w-wa-was p-p-p...," she held up the paint-covered brush
and gestured toward the front door of the church.

"Okay, you were painting.  So?"  \\Patience, Jav,\\ he silently
reminded himself.

"So-so.  I-I u-us-used i-it t-to th-thi-thin th-the p-p-p-p...," again
she let her voice trail off as she pointed toward the bucket of red
paint.

"You used it to thin the paint!  Where the hell did you ever get an
idea like that?"

Sarah hung her head, "I-I'm so-sor-sorry."

Vachon let out an exasperated breath.  He knew the girl hadn't done it
on purpose, but now all he had was pig blood again!  \\Damn!\\  Then
he remember the Raven -- it was still hours until dawn.  He had plenty
of time to fly down there and bring back a few cases.

He looked down at Sarah again.  "It's okay," he said generously.  "It
was a mistake.  Don't worry about it."  He placed his hand beneath her
chin and raised her face to his.  "I'm not mad at you.  Okay?"

Sarah nodded, not willing to make the effort at speech again.

Vachon patted her on the shoulder and then stepped through the front
doors, heading for the Raven.  When Sarah turned around, Vachon was
gone.


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


Vachon Gets The Chair
By:   Mercenary Cousin Lisa
Time: July 29th -- 4:00 a.m. - 4:20 a.m.

(follows directly after:  WAR: Too Much Ain't Enough")


Vachon was feeling hungry and irritable.  He'd only been up and about
for a day and here he was having to go to the Raven to restock his own
refrigerator.  He would definitely need to talk to those women who had
revived him.  After going to all the trouble of digging him up, it
wouldn't have been such a big deal for them to have gotten him enough
bottles of *human* blood to last him a couple of weeks.  To make
matters worse, after only getting him one crate of human blood, the
young one named Sarah had used it to thin *paint*.  He'd just have to
take care of the blood situation himself.

He landed in front of the Raven and checked out the situation.  There
didn't appear to be anyone around, so after a quick check of the
street, Vachon headed around to the back of the club.  After turning
the corner into the alley, he was immediately struck by the scent of
fresh blood.  Peering cautiously through the darkness, he saw a
mortal, a female, sitting on a chair with another chair across from
her and a little table placed before her. She seemed to have set up
her very own little sidewalk cafe.  She was sitting with her back to
him, so he grinned wickedly and began moving forward silently, a
stalking predator after some fresh meat.

"Hello Vachon," the woman said quietly without even turning around.

"How'd you know my name?" he asked warily.  "Who are you?"

She swung around to face him and replied, "I've been waiting for you."
She looked him up and down, taking in his appearance and gauging the
threat that he might pose.  He looked rather scruffier than usual.  'I
guess nobody thought to tell him to take a shower and freshen up a bit
after they dug him up,' she thought to herself.  Reaching to pat the
chair across from hers, she said, "Why don't you come and sit down.  I
have something that I need to discuss with you."  Turning back to the
table, she picked up an open bottle of blood and said enticingly,
"Besides, you look rather hungry and I was able to procure a bottle of
LaCroix's Special Stock for this meeting."  She placed the bottle,
along with a glass on the table in front of her.

The overwhelming, heady scent of the blood reached his nostrils and he
closed his eyes and inhaled deeply.  When he opened them again, they
were just slightly tinged with gold.  He struggled to walk rather than
run to the table.  As he moved closer, he stared at this seemingly
fearless mortal.  She was attractive as mortals go, but she had the
appearance and carriage of one who was much more comfortable going
unnoticed and unobserved.  He could tell that she was someone who
liked to live in the shadows.  She was dressed from head to toe in
black -- black t-shirt, black jeans, black boots.  Her curly brown
hair fell to the middle of her back and she kept unconsciously
flicking her bangs out of her eyes as she waited for him.

He sat down and reached for the bottle.  Once he had his hand wrapped
around it, he turned to her and said, "You didn't mention your name."

"Oh," she said, "I'm sorry, how very rude of me."  She looked into his
eyes, smiled, stuck out her hand, and said, "Hello, my name is Lisa,
very nice to meet you."

Vachon stared back at her and thought to himself, this is a resistor
if ever I saw one.  She had absolutely no fear of him, and she
obviously knew what he was.  He shook her hand and replied, "Well, I
*guess* it's nice to meet you, too."  He picked up the bottle and got
ready to bring it to his lips.  Halfway there, he stopped and glanced
at her questioningly and then back at the bottle.

"By all means," she responded to his unvoiced question, "drink up.  A
vampire needs to eat just like the rest of us."

He smiled at that and quickly drained the bottle.

"My goodness," she laughed, "you must be hungrier than I thought."
She made as if to rise and said, "Let me go get you another bottle."

Vachon waved her off and said, "I know where they are.  I'll get it." 
He got up and headed towards the back door of the Raven.

Lisa watched him walk away with an inquisitive look on her face.  She
glanced at her watch and then began drumming her fingers on the table
-- waiting for the tell-tale sound.

BAAMMM!!

"Like clockwork," she smiled to herself, jumped up and walked over to
where Vachon was slumped by the back door of the Raven.

He hadn't even had a chance to open the door.  Collapsed against the
wall in the middle of the alley, he looked like a puppet without a
puppet-master.  It's amazing what a combination of curare, absinthe
and valium mixed in blood can do to a vampire. Letting her CPR
training take effect for a moment and keeping up appearances just in
case, she kneeled down next to him, reached out, shook his shoulder,
and saidd, "Are you okay? Are you okay?" As she expected, she got
absolutely no response.  But, he appeared to still be breathing and
she was sure that if she listened for a heartbeat in around 10 minutes
she would hear one.

"Up you go, big boy," she whispered as she grabbed him under his arms
and started hauling him across the alley to the building next door.
'Well,' she thought to herself as she dragged him effortlessly along,
'all those aerobics classes have certainly paid off.' Once she reached
the back door to the other building, she propped him up against the
wall so that she could open the door and drag him inside.

Everything was already set up and ready for her.  The restaurant had
been deserted for hours when she had arrived an hour ago and picked
the lock.  She had taken the time to clear a space for a chair in the
middle of the back dining room.  This way, nobody could see any of the
action going on inside if they happened to walk by the windows out
front.  She picked up Vachon, dragged him over and propped him up in
the chair by tying a table cloth around his waist.  Cackling gleefully
in anticipation, she ran to switch on the central overhead light and
got the large canvas bag that had been sitting next to the back door. 
Digging through it, she pulled out a pair of barber's scissors, a
comb, a tube of gel, a can of styling spritz, and a can of super-hold
hair spray.

Staring down at the unconscious vampire, she said with a wicked smile,
"Ya' know, sometimes it's *so* much fun being a Mercenary as well as a
Cousin.  People hire you to do the most enjoyable things."

She pulled the note that had arrived with her payment out of her
pocket to double check the parameters:  no irreparable damage, no crew
cuts, nothing too short, no coloring or no perming.  She placed a
finger under his chin and lifted his head up. "Hmmmmmm," she mumbled,
"we must do something with those bangs.  Why would anyone want to hide
those lovely brown eyes?  You really are quie cute, but I like my men
with short hair.  And, my goodness, what a hideous case of split ends.
Really must do something about those split ends."

She whipped out the scissors and the comb and went to work. The first
thing to go were the bangs.  She started at his left eyebrow and cut a
diagonal path from there to the middle of his right cheek.  "Uneven
bangs are all the rage," she commented sweetly to the unconscious
vampire.  Continuing on, she said, "Ya' know, Tracy is as conservative
as they come and if you really want to impress her, you're going to
have to go with a more stylish coif.  The long-haired biker look is
fine for a while, but you are a wee bit old to carry off that style
effectively."  She fell into silence as she finished cutting his
bangs.  Staring at him intently, she contemplated the length of his
hair for a few moments.  Not being exactly sure what length to go
with, she ran into the kitchen and got a bunch of mixing bowls.  One
after the other, she placed the bowls on his head like hats.  When she
reached the bowl that would leave the length just below his shoulder,
she went to work.  Cutting carefully around the edge of the bowl, she
was done in no time at all.  "There," she said with satisfaction as
she pulled the bowl off of his head.  "Now," she said, "all we need to
do is the styling."

She grabbed the gel first and applied it quite liberally to the sides
of his head.  She wanted the wet, slicked back look on the sides.  She
went through the entire tube trying to get the perfect look.  Then,
she began teasing his bangs up to a truly volumous height.  There was
nothing quite as interesting to see as a man with big hair.  When that
was done, she sprayed enough styling spritz on them to keep them up
there through a hurricane. Heading around to the back, she curled the
ends around her fingers and sprayed them heavily so that they would
flip out nicely.

She fussed and touched up and fussed some more.  But, there was this
one spot right in the center of the back of his head that refused to
flip out nicely.  Getting rather annoyed with this wayward section of
hair, she grabbed the scissors again and just snipped it off.  "Ya'
know," she said in her best, but still pathetic, Billy Crystal
imitation, "you look marvelous."

Stepping back, she observed her work with tremendous satisfaction.
She had certainly earned her commission tonight. Thinking about the
priceless book and the huge barrel of blue peanut M&Ms waiting for her
put a huge chocolate lover's smile on her face.

Her work for the evening done, she untied Vachon and dragged him out
of the restaurant.  Checking the alley for any lurking Ravens or other
people, she hoisted Vachon up and carried him quickly across the alley
while making every attempt not to ruin the work she had recently
completed.  Propping him up against the alley wall, she opened the
back door to the Raven and peered cautiously inside to make sure that
no one was in the vicinity.  Seeing that the coast was clear, she
opened the door wider and pushed Vachon inside.  She propped him up as
neatly as possible against the wall, straightened out one wayward bang
and turned to leave.

"Opps," she said with a start, "forgot something."  She pulled two
slips of paper out of her pocket, leaned down to Vachon, and pinned
them to his shirt.  One was a $100 gift certificate for one of the
most stylish hair salons in Toronto and the other was a discount
coupon to a place called 'Wigs-R-Us.'  "I think you might be wanting
one of these in the near future," she chuckled evilly as she turned to
leave.

As she closed the back door, she could just barely make out the sounds
of Vachon beginning to come around.  Smiling wickedly, she walked
halfway down the alley behind the Raven, and abruptly seemed to
disappear into thin air.  The only thing that lingered was the sound
of her laughter echoing through the night.  It seemed to come from
every where and no where all at the same time.

                                        *****

Twenty minutes later, with a smile still plastered to her face, Lisa
was safely entrenched in her room at Merc-Central, munching on blue
peanut M&Ms and reading Machiavelli.  'Those tunnels certainly come in
handy,' she thought to herself.  'Mayhem for profit, indeed.'


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


CERK goes AWOL! (5/5)
There Is No Get-Out-of-Jail-Free Card if You Smart-Mouth the Brass
by Christina Kamnikar (w/Jamie Randell & Lisa McDavid's bits too)

Monday morning, 4 AM or so, July 29th -- 96th Precinct Lockup

"Tell me, Ms. Kamnikar. Didn't you believe me when I said I'd kill you
if you did this again?" Lacroix wasn't really asking for information;
questions like that are only asked to remind someone that they've done
something that could be considered mortally stupid.

Almost literally so, in this case.

"Did what?" Chris smiled blindingly, recovering her equilibrium
quickly. "I didn't do anything. Well, nothing you can prove, anyway."
She shrugged and idly ran her fingers down the wall, apparently
studying the phone numbers written there.

"You hijacked my radio station. In the middle of my broadcast. And
gave it to those two juvenile delinquents!" snarled the vampire, eyes
glowing yellow. Jamie was extremely glad there were steel bars between
him and the two of them, although it wouldn't stop him if he got
*really* pissed-off.

"So what," the Merc Mommy General said, folding her arms over her
chest in defiance. Jamie noticed that despite the bravado, Chaos kept
her back against the wall as far away from Uncle as possible. "What
are you objecting to? The illegal acts? Or the fact that someone else
has something you consider *yours*? Oooo, can't have that, can we?"

"You know you'll get it back eventually," Jamie pointed out. Lacroix
switched his laser-eyed glare to her, but the Web Goddess held her
ground, sighing in resignation. "Now really, admit it. You're glad
we're back."

This was so unexpected that Lacroix gaped at her. "WHAT?"

"You missed us, didn't you?" Jamie smiled endearingly, and by now
Chris was also staring at the Natpacker/Merc in amazement. "All of us
Listfolk---we're your best audience. Even Chris, though she hates your
guts, knows practically all your monologues by heart."

"Do not."

"Do so." Jamie took a tentative step toward the bars and raised her
eyebrows. "C'mon. You know you never have as much fun as when we're in
town, making your life interesting."

"Interesting." Lacroix said in a dead voice. "Hijackings. Being forced
to wear obscene clothing. Videotapes of me in compromising positions.
Being drugged, hypnotized, HUMILIATED--- Interesting?!? NONE of that
is even slightly *interesting*!" He stepped back from the bars in
frustration, words temporarily failing him as he gestured in futility.
"It's insanity, torture, sheer, unadulterated hell---"

"So why haven't you left town already?" Chris asked with a big grin.
She always regarded Lacroix with the mixture of fascination and horror
that a mongoose feels for a snake; a combination of "ewwwww, kill it,
kill it, kill it now" and "pretty, pretty cobra... what are you going
to do next?"  Being able to torment him from inside a safe jail cell
was a dream come true.

The vampire straightened even more than usual, shot her a dirty look,
and coldly informed Jamie, "I did *not* miss you. I want you to go
away right after you give me back my radio station." He sounded like a
six-year-old demanding that his older sister give him his dump-truck.

"Well, guess you better get used to us being around then, Lacroix,"
Chris said, putting her hands behind her head, "'Cause I can't get it
back for you for nothing. And it'll be a while before those two make a
mistake. Of course, you can always hire me to hijack it back for you--
-at a substantial price---"

Lacroix snarled again, fangs, eyes, and facial muscles getting into
the act before he regained control of himself, then calmed as suddenly
as he'd gotten angry. "Very well. I trust you're prepared for an
extended stay here. I understand the food is excellent." He turned and
stalked for the door.

"You should know!" Jamie called after him, and added to his retreating
back, "It's okay if you can't admit it. We know the truth. You're
thrilled we're in Toronto." The sound of the door slamming was her
only answer. The WebGoddess sighed, and said to Chris, "He's really
glad to see us. I could tell."

The MMG rolled her eyes, and lay back down on the bench, wondering how
long it would be until the arraignment.

It turned out that arraignments began at 6:30 AM. Which was
unfortunate, because Chris didn't make much of an impression at that
hour of the morning, especially when she'd only had four hours of
sleep. As a Natpacker/Merc, all Jamie needed was some caffeine, and
she appeared bright and non-threatening, but Chaos resembled one of
those wanted posters of women who'd been caught smuggling chocolate
through customs from Turkey. Consequently, the bail set for Jamie was
slightly lower than it was for Chris.

"$10,000? Where am I going to get ten thousand dollars?" Jamie asked
in dismay.

Chris shrugged as they left the courthouse. Twenty-five thousand
dollars wasn't exactly what she'd been hoping her bail would be,
either. "Actually, you only have to come up with $1000, a bail
bondsman will pick up the rest of the tab."

"I don't have a thousand dollars either."

"Which is why I am now going to call Dianne, who will come down here
and post bail for us out of the General Merc Fund," Chris said
patiently. "God, what I'd give for a shower. I hope erica and Bianca
are having fun with CERK... I haven't even gotten to listen to it
since we were arrested."

The Grand High Poohbah was not amused.

"You're in big trouble, Chris."

"Oh, please. You know Jamie was perfectly safe with me---"

"That's not the point! She's supposed to go on trial in an hour!"

"She's no more guilty of treason than _I_ am. Just easily swayed.
Maureen's still there, isn't she? You can put her on trial. And if you
come get us out of jail, you can still put Jamie on trial for treason
too---not that it'll stick."

"That's about the only reason either of you is getting bailed out, you
know that." Dianne sounded like she was speaking through gritted
teeth. "So we can clear up the questions about Jamie. Otherwise..."

"Just get here soon, okay?"


The sighs of relief that greeted the tall red-headed Merc as she
walked into holding were heartfelt, but not quite heartfelt enough, in
the GHP's opinion. "Are we through being reckless?" Dianne asked
severely, as the sergeant opened the cell door. "Are we through taking
off without back-up? Are we through with not telling the GHP where
we're going?"

"Sure," Chris said, eyes wide in mock-innocence. "And right after we
get out of here, I'm going over to CERK to apologize to Lacroix."

"No need to be sarcastic," Dianne said, her mouth twitching in an
involuntary grin. "Jamie, where's your jacket?" She put a hand out to
stop her MMG from leaving the cell. "Uh-unh. You're not going
anywhere."

"Dianne?" Jamie said uncertainly, looking from one of her Merc-Mommies
to the other. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm only bailing out *you*, Jamie. Chris has to learn a little
humility."

"You can't do this," Christina responded in a flat voice. "You can't.
You're not allowed to. There's money in the General Fund earmarked for
this sort of thing."

Dianne smiled and helped Jamie on with her coat. "Yes, there is, but
nothing says I can't let you stay here for a while. There's no more
Strikeforces planned for at least a few days; and Abby has the trial
well under control. And frankly, I want you to be somewhere I *know*
you can't get out of for a while."

"You're going to interfere with me protecting Jamie!" Christina
protested. "You know she hired me to keep her from being kidnapped!"

"Kidnapped from her _faction_, Chris. Right now, she's going to be
with her faction. Us. The Mercs. Surrounded by us. Perfectly safe.
Don't worry, we'll take care of your client for you." Dianne waved
nonchalantly as the door cut off her view of the speechless Mercenary
General watching them leave.


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


You Come Through
Inside the Raven
Just before dawn, Monday July 29th

by Bonnie Pardoe
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The singer rubbed her neck as she left the bar and made her way toward
the back of the club to retrieve her jacket and keys.  It had been a
long, tiring night of rehearsal.  \\Ah, but to actually be a singer at
the Raven! What more could a girl want?\\ Bonnie smiled to herself.

The Raven's new singer happened to glance down the short hallway that
led out to the alley, and she noticed a messy heap at the foot of the
door. \\Left over junk from the renovation, no doubt.\\  But then the
pile groaned and moved.  Bonnie, startled, backed up as far as she
could, up against the far wall.  \\The homeless are getting to be a
problem everywhere.  I better get someone,\\ she thought to herself.
The heap moved again, tried to stand up, and she finally recognized
the personage.  It was Vachon!

She rushed to his side, kneeling beside him.  "Vachon!  What
happened?"

The groggy vampire looked into her face and recognition slowly dawned
on him, "Bonnie?  Where am I?"

"You're at the Raven."

Vachon tried to get up, but managed only to scoot himself into a
sitting position, with his back against the wall.  It was then that
Bonnie noticed the state of his hair -- or rather the lack of hair
that there was despite its state.  She reached out and touched the
sticky, stiff bangs -- they stood straight up and were markedly
shorter on one side than on the other. She fingered the 'Mary Tyler
Moore meets Dick Van Dyke' curls which bobbed about his ears.

"Vachon, who did this you?" she inquired, sounding just a wee bit too
much like Tracy Vetter.

He shook his head, which caused the curls to bounce mockingly.  He was
obviously too weak to be of any help just yet.

"We have to get you back to the church."  Bonnie opened up the side
door, then shut it quickly as a ray of sunlight fell too near to her
wounded idol. \\Sun's up!  Crap!  Now what?\\  "Think, think, think,"
she muttered to herself.  Then it came to her!

"Vachon, wait here.  I'm going to drive the van around to the side
door and we'll get you inside it somehow.  Okay?"

Vachon nodded and Bonnie raced off.

\\Thank goodness Sherri had insisted last night that I borrow one of
the vans!\\ Bonnie thought to herself as she backed the mini-van down
the alley. At the door, she cut the engine, jumped out, and opened the
sliding side door of the van.  She looked around for a something...
anything!  Peeking out from under the back-most seat was the corner of
a tarp.  "Excellent!" She pulled the tarp out and held it up to make
sure it was large enough.

She opened the alley door to the Raven, helped Vachon up, and then
covered him with the tarp.  They made a mad dash across the four feet
of sunlit asphalt, dove into the van, then got him situated on the
floor between the seats.  Bonnie repositioned the tarp over him,
making sure nothing was exposed.

The ardent Vaquera slammed the sliding door, climbed over the bench
seats, and hopped into the driver's seat.  She started the engine,
mashed down on the gas pedal, and drove like a maniac through the
streets of Toronto for the second time in as many days.

"Hang on back there!"  Bonns called to her huddling passenger.  "It
won't take me too long to get us back to the church!"

Bonnie pulled the van to a screeching halt outside the church.  She
grabbed Vachon, the tarp still covering most of him, and they dashed
inside the dark sanctuary.


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


Some Cousins Come Calling  (01/01)
by Gehirn Karies (Cerk Jerk@aol.com)
and Leslie GrantSmith (LoosCanN@aol.com)
Wednesday, July 31st -- morning
After Down Into Chinatown

Special thanks to Kathy Whelton and the Knighties.
+++++++++++++++++++++
Some Cousins Come Calling

Kathy sat back, happily ensconced in the luxurious cushions of Nick's
black couch, channel surfing with the remote, curious to see how
Canadian TV differed from the stuff  Stateside.  She was alone, it was
peaceful and no one would be kvetching at her to quit messing with the
control.  A flash of flesh and color caught her eye and her finger
hopped off the channel button.

A still color photo filled Nick's huge screen.  Two men gazed directly
into the camera.  The one with his back to her, glancing over his
shoulder with a slanting, mischievous grin looked a lot, a *lot* like
Nick.  The other man, facing forward and somewhat to the side and
behind the other man, pale, short hair spiked, glowered into her eyes,
his sensuous lips shaped in a becoming pout.  They were both clad in
nothing but boxer shorts.  Silky, nicely fitting boxer shorts.  She
groaned.  The Nick-model's shorts ... cherries. Big, brilliant, juicy-
looking cherries....

Visually stunned, it took Kathy a few moments to hear what the
announcer was trying to tell her.

"....final hours of our silk boxer sale at That Special Something For
Him, a store dedicated to men's intimate apparel, located at...."

Kathy feverishly copied down the address.  She had come so quickly,
she hadn't had time to get something nice for Nick.  This was the
perfect opportunity.  She grabbed her purse and was down and out of
the loft in seconds.  Visions of silk clad fundaments danced in her
head and she really wasn't as careful as she ought to have been in
securing the door behind her.  One never knows what sort of unsavory
individuals might be lurking about waiting to take advantage of
someone else's innocent mistake.

Warily, the seven Cousins, who never passed up the chance to
capitalize on another's misfortune, spread out through the loft.
Leslie, intrigued by an odd tugging sensation on her intuition, angled
toward a low, plain, but highly polished cabinet set against a wall.
She squatted and opened the doors.  She gasped when she spotted the
small black figurine inside.  Reaching out a tentative hand, she let
her palm hover over the statue a moment before cautiously picking it
up.  She was fond of Nick, very, very fond of Nick.  It was just as a
parent and as someone congenitally unable to understand the concept of
sin, she had a greater emotional draw to LaCroix.  Therefore, it
surprised her that the Knighties, with their loyalty to Nick, allowed
this little fellow to remain in his vicinity.  Its dark aura would be
a constant drag on someone as burdened by regret and guilt as he.  She
slipped the small sculpture into her fanny pack, pulled out a piece of
paper and pen and wrote, "Dear Nick, IOU one small, black, oriental
figurine, _uncursed_. Affectionately, Loose Cannon."  She set the note
on the shelf and closed the cabinet doors.  She stood and turned, as
by the fireplace Karies began to declaim:

"And, as in uffish thought he stood,
The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
And burbled as it came!

One, two!  One, two!  And through and through
The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!"

She stopped abruptly. Reached into the fireplace.

"I wonder if he kept it lodged up here.  Hmmmmnnn, what's this? Yes!
The Dark Goddess is smilin' on us today, gals."  She blew the soot off
of a small brown book.

The rude bleating of a cell phone sounded and all the Cousins jumped,
fumbling for their phones.  Leslie stammered apologetically into the
one she was carrying.  "Ah, no, L-luh-Sir, this is Leslie. Oh, we must
have switched phones, just a minute ... Sir, I'll get her ... Sir."

Leslie held the phone against her stomach, trying to muffle her voice.
"It's *Him*.  I've got your phone."

"@#%$!" Karies grunted, passing Leslie the phone she held and reaching
for hers.  In their nervousness the phones fell to the floor.

"@#$%, &%$#, &*%$#@$," said Leslie, grappling for the fallen devices.

*&^%^$# ^%$#*&!" Karies spat out, picking up a phone.  "Yes, Gen'ral."

Back at CERK, LaCroix sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose
between a thumb and forefinger.  These two were a mess.

Karies smacked the dead phone shut and grabbed the other phone from
Leslie.  "Yes, Gen'ral?" she asked again, shoving Leslie away.

"Ah, Gehirn, at long last," LaCroix said smoothly.  "You are in
Nicholas's loft, I take it."

"That's right, the commercial worked, we--"

He broke in, not really caring to hear a blow-by-blow recounting of
their escapades.  "Gehirn, have you found anything with Nicholas's
signature on it?"

"Sure, there's all this stuff on his desk, and the Knighties put all
his mail in a fancy wicker basket.  We also found--"

"Good.  Bring something back with a sample of his signature.  I heard
you may have ... a usefull skill in this area."

"Uh, if you mean you heard I can forge anyone's signature once I ...
procure something to copy it from, yeah."

"Excellent."

"You mean you can't forge Nick's signature after 800 years?"

"Forgery and other petty larceny are not my *usual* infractions
against mortal law," he replied, a warning iciness in his tone.

"Uh, sure, sorry.  Look, L-Luh-Gen'ral, we found some stuff here.  A
book...."

"Oh, have you now?  How intriguing.  You're not the only one.  Bring
it here as soon as you can."  With a certain amount of relief, he hung
up.

"`Kay, guys, let's get outta here," Karies barked, slapping the phone
shut.  "The Silk Cherry Boxer Shorts sale is bound to be over by now."
The Cousins scrambled for the elevator.

On her way out, Karies spotted Nick's bike, huddled lonely and
neglected in the corner.  A sinister grin contorted her features, but
she quickly schooled her features into her best impression of
innocence.  Leslie immediately became suspicious.

"I hate it when your face does that.  It's too scary.  It reminds me
of my four year old.  The last time I saw an expression like that, I
found the cat in the freezer."

"What?" asked Karies, still trying for innocence and failing
miserably.  "I just saw the bike sitting there all lonely and got to
thinking that for such a nice guy, Nick sure is mean to his bike.
Never takes it out for a little fresh air or anything."

"Oh, no.  No!  No way!"

Smirking, Karies tossed Tammy the keys to her car, saying, "Just don't
get it impounded, like Leslie got the Jag."

Tammy grinned as Leslie muttered sullenly, "Don't remind me about
that."

"That's why I exist," Karies declared as she straddled the bike.  "A
brutal reminder of the harsh, ugly world."

"You're Evil," Tammy muttered, grinning.

With a magnanimous bow of her head, acknowledging the truth of the
statement, Karies started the bike, easing it into the elevator, as
her companions gagged on the exhaust fumes.

****************
Continued in "A Farce In Three Acts"


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


YOU GOT LUCKY

Inside the Old Church
Just past dawn, Monday July 29th
  (immediately following: Vaquero - "You Come Through")

by Bonnie Pardoe
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As soon as the pair were inside the dark confines of the church,
Vachon threw off the tarp.  He was burned slightly in several placed
on his face and hands, but luckily his leather jacket, blue jeans, and
heavy boots had kept the rest of him from any marked damage.

Bonnie immediately called for help.  It was after dawn and most of the
Vaqueros had finally headed off to bed, but a few came running.

"Oh, my god!" Debra breathed as soon as she saw the slightly smoking
Vachon.

Lisa-Marie, the quick-witted blonde, grabbed a bottle of blood and
handed it to Vachon.  He yanked the cork out and downed half the
contents in one long chug.  "Pig!" he muttered under his breath, but
he knew that it was better than nothing.

"What happened?"  Nancy took Vachon by the arm and helped him over to
one of the pews.

"I must have been drugged," Vachon finally said.

"I'll wake Torrey and Sherri up!" Jenn said as she dashed off into the
other room.

Vachon had the bottle up to his lips again.  He almost wished for the
safe, close darkness of that grave they'd dug him up from.

Torrey and Sherri, obviously behind on their sleep, followed Jenn as
quickly as they could manage.

Torrey was speechless when she saw Vachon, but Sherri was livid, "What
the hell happened to your hair?"

Vachon stopped drinking and stared at the Vaqueros's lieutenant.  He
raised a dark eyebrow at her, clueless as to what she was talking
about.

Sherri ignored his questioning gaze.  "Would you look a this?  It's
been... teased!  And... and curled!  And...," she circled around him,
surveying the damage from all angles, "Mutilated!  There's a whole
chunk missing from the back!"

"Who would do such a thing?" Lisa-Marie said as she handed Vachon
another bottle of blood.

"I don't know," Torrey began in a very measured tone.  "But I'm
pissed!" There was not a single person in the room who was not afraid
of Torrey at that very moment.  Not even Vachon's first hunger on
Saturday night scared them as much as Torrey did at that very moment.

Bonnie shook her head, tired from the all-nighter and the club and the
adrenaline rush from the van ride home.  "I'm just glad I was still at
the Raven.  I had a heck of a time getting him here with minimal sun
damage.  We were very lucky."

"Lucky?" Sherri ranted.  "You call *this* lucky?  How did this happen,
Vachon?  *Who* is responsible for this?"

Vachon shook his head, his mind finally clearing of the drug-induced
cobwebs.  "I went to the Raven for some more blood last night.  I met
this girl"  -- half the Vaqueras rolled their eyes.  "She said her
name was 'Lisa.'  She must have put something in my drink.  The next
thing I remember was Bonnie standing over me."  He glanced over at
Bonnie who gave him a small, tired smile.

"We really should get all that gunk out of your hair, Vachon," Nancy
said. Everyone agreed, so she and Jenn lead their vampire off toward
the kitchen and its huge stainless steel sink.


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


Message from the Acting CO
7/29/96 early in the morning
Old Paragon Studio - the Die-Hard HQ

The smell of freshly brewed coffee wafted past the noses of the Die-
Hards, both resting and awake.  Chuck Harding was busy checking files
on his laptop, a cup of coffee at his elbow.  Don Fasig glanced over
at the area their acting CO had converted into "computer central" and
saw that the Enforcer was *still* intent upon the screen.

"Your're *still* awake?" Don asked the Enforcer.  "I thought you had
to sleep during the day."

"Technically, I should be asleep.  But I popped so much
methamphetamine, I'll probably be awake until Christmas!" the Enforcer
replied grinning.

He had been awake since they all arrived in Toronto.  He must be
telling the truth.  If he is doing speed, he's going to start acting
weird.  That stuff makes you hallucinate if you're on it long enough,
thought Don.  That's all we need - a delusional Enforcer!

Kristine overheard their conversation and looked a bit worried. So did
Bruce Gray. Donna and Toby didn't know *what* to think.  Chuck looked
up from the List to listen in on the conversation.

Moira said, "I thought you were going to have one of us cover for you
during the day."

"I was," Ron said.  "But, since no one volunteered, I'm going to be on
duty round the clock until Laura returns."  Now Moira was beginning to
look worried.  Ron added quickly, "Hey, I'm *not* human, remember?
These chemicals don't affect me the same way they do you."

"That's what we're afraid of!" Bruce Gray said.

"MMrrf," came from the sofa.  Everyone looked and noticed Nancy, the
Die-Hards most famed night owl,  was awakening.  She did *not* like
mornings.  "Cheese it, you guys," she said. "It's not like the drugs
can kill him, y'know!"

"Look," Ron interjected.  "It's only for a short time.  Besides, I
don't intend to leave the base except to do two things: Go to that
auction at the museum and sometime next week, I think, I may be
assisting in a linguistics project.  But, other than that, I intend to
be *right here*."

"You have to be a member of the museum to get tickets," Toby told him.

"I know. *I* don't have a membership, but the head Enforcer for this
region is, so I asked him to snag us a couple of tickets.  We have a
pair waiting for us, so two of you can get in."

"What about you?" Moira asked.

"I can *sneak* in," Ron said with a wry grin.  "Which is why I want
two of you to volunteer to go there as representatives of our faction.
Besides, this Brabant auction *may* lure Nick back to Toronto.  And
I'm sure *all* of us wouldn't mind seeing the blond Brick again."

"Any chance of getting more than 2 tickets?" Chuck asked.

"I could try and snag more via hacking into their system," the
Enforcer offered.  "I'm pretty good at the *Sneakers* stuff.  You
know, bouncing signals all over the place so they are hard to trace.
But if any of you have a legitimate way of getting more tickets, use
it!  The cheatin' way is risky, even if left to your resident Kindred
computer geek!"

That remark got a few chuckles and then Chuck said, "You aren't the
*only* computer geek in here, you know! Don and I can help out with
the hacking!"

"Very true," Ron agreed, then stated,  "Look, I have comlinks I
brought up with me from Enforcer HQ.  They're just very miniaturized
walki-talkies with a five-mile range.  And the fact they look like
"Forever Knight" buttons should allow you to wear them without
attracting much attention."

He passed the buttons out and everyone saw the Send/Receive switch was
neatly hidden on the back on the inconspicuous looking fannish button.

"Guess the Enforcer Q Branch worked a little overtime to make these,"
teased Don as he pinned his on.

"Yeah, well, some guys in Q branch owed me, so this was payback," Ron
replied as he handed out a comlink to each Die-Hard.  "I have the base
station set up here next to the computer.  Just keep the chatter down
to a minimum, okay?  This is just to let me know what's happening and
to radio for help if you get attacked, understand?"

They did.

Moira looked at the vampire and asked, "Now what?"

"Well, that's up to you guys," Ron said.  "I snagged up some auction
tickets, so that's something I'd like us to be in on. Other than
that,the floor is open to suggestions..."


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


Lonely Knightie - Can't just stay here

Time : 9 a.m. Pacific Standard Time
Date : July 29, 1996 (Monday)
Place : Little apt. In Hollywood CA

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

"Honey, stop pacing you are making me crazy", he said softly.

*I can't help it David, I know about the war and I still can't do
anything!*

Just then the phone rang. Angie jumped on it like it was on fire.

*Hello?* pause *Yes* pause. *Who exactly is this?* pause - click.

*Who was it Ang?*

*I don't know, all I know is they sounded hurt, and they mumbled
something about the loft, and a little book or something.... David, I
have to go!*

*I don't get it Ang, but if you have to, then do it*.

With that she walked up to the bedroom, pulled out her dufflebag, and
started throwing some clothes into it. She openned the top dresser
drawer and stared at the contents. Picking and choosing carefully, she
grabbed her polycarbonite knife (had to think about the metal
detectors), her camo paints and her cd player. After picking enough
cd's to last the flight, she dragged it all downstairs and threw it
into the back of the pickup.

David followed her out, shaking his head all the way, mumbling
something about sleeping alone, insane computer games and weird women.

*L.A.X. Dave, and step on it!*...


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


Missing Time
Time:  Monday, July 29th (approx. 6:30am)
Place: Merc HQ
Author: Dawn Steele (h36a@unb.ca)

Dawn stared at her portable alarm clock with extreme annoyance. It may
have been purchased in Denmark (and therefore one of her few
momentos), but the numbers were all too clear.  Six-thirty in the
morning meant that it was really seven-thirty in New Brunswick time.

Way too early to get up on a Monday morning, but she'd been hit
(again) with her attack of I'm-in-a-strange-bed-so-I-can't-sleep
phenomena. ARGH! With a loud grumble of annoyance she threw her pillow
at the clock, and watched it hit the floor with a loud THUNK!

It was way too early for anyone to be up, and the Merc HQ quiet hours
had already started. Dawn didn't want to make too much noise in the
kitchen and end up being put into an even smaller room than she was in
already.

The room was barely big enough for a twin bed and a dresser. "Just
remember -- a smaller room, means less rent to pay, and therefore more
for me to keep!"

Stepping over to her kitbag, she slipped on her last clean t-shirt and
shorts, and put her wallet into the back pocket. "Too bad it's so
early, or I'd go see my friend Tracy. Still, it's Toronto -- there has
to be a good breakfast place open."

With her car keys in her teeth, she french-braided her hair on the way
out the door. Somewhere out there in Toronto... breakfast was calling!

*** two hours later ***

Dawn stumbled back inside Merc headquarters with a dazed expression on
her face. Her green t-shirt was smeared with dirt, and bits of her
french braid were flying everywhere.

"Dawn! What happened?" Dianne asked. "Where have you been?"

"Ahh... Out to breakfast?"

"You haven't been having any ... problems lately, have you?" Dianne
pulled Dawn into the meeting area, and got her to sit into a chair.
"Was the escapade with Maureen too much?" Thoughts of a possible crazy
Merc (and not a profitable type of craziness) swam through her head,
and a worried expression crossed her face.

"No!" Dawn sat up straight in her chair. "I'm not going crazy this
War!" She scratched at her temples. "I'm just having a bit of trouble
remembering exactly ... I know! I went out to breakfast."

"What did you eat?"

A distinct rumbling sound was heard. Dawn's stomach complained loudly
that <it> hadn't eaten. "Eat?"

"Food. Eggs, toast, orange juice, bagels, etc. etc."

"Oh." Her face brightened as a flood of memories hit all at once. "I
never made it. I met... Lana Soward and we talked over old times for a
bit. She... yeah! She hired me for a job!"

"You're sure?"

"Yep! It's all clear now. I don't know what caused that little memory
lapse. Must have been the Southern Ontario heat." Dawn peered down at
her dirty t-shirt, and then at her watch. "Yuck! I better take a
shower and get ready -- don't want to miss Maureen's trial!"

Dianne stared at the retreating Merc's form, and reviewed her mental
tally of Dawn's accomplishments and profits so far. It was Monday
already and the only thing she'd participated in was Maureen's
kidnapping. Maybe taking her into the Mercs <hadn't> been a great
idea.

But then again, the War had only begun.

To be continued... <G>


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


Three Twins & A Friend: The search for the little brown book
by April Ruskin (aruskin@edge.ercnet.com), Denise Underwood
(ithildin@mbay.net), and Shirl Cline (scline@erols.com)
Monday July 29, 1996 8:00 am
Slinky's Auto Repair

'Everyone ready?" Denise asked the other three women.

"Why do I have to be the distraction?" April asked while trying to
pull down her almost too-short skirt.

"Because you're the best suited for the task. Now get in there and
work it! Remember, you're supposed to be a sophisticated woman!" Shirl
goaded to April's retreating back.

"Well, at least I don't have to lurch around in high heels." April
mumbled to herself as she walked into the auto bay of Slinky Auto
Repair.

"May I help you?" A muscular man in mechanic overalls asked.

"Yes, are you in charge?" April replied.

"Yes ma'am I am."

"Well, my car broke down and I was wondering if you could fix it?"
April asked while batting her eyelashes.

"No... no problem ma'am!" The mechanic said with a gulp. "Jimmy! Your
got a tow to do!"

A skinny teenager came into the auto bay. After April had told Jimmy
where her car was at. (April had unplugged one end of the coil wire on
her distributor cap earlier). Soon, April and the mechanic were the
only ones in the building... at least that's what the mechanic
thought.

-----

'OK, we don't know how long April can keep him busy, so let's make
this quick." Denise told Dee and Shirl as the threesome snuck in the
back of the  garage and into the office. "Dee, you take the file
cabinets by the window, Shirl, take the cabinets by the door, and I'll
take the desk."

"What we looking for in particular?" Dee asked.

"We're just looking for a brown book. Don't touch anything until
you've put the gloves on!" Denise admonished the two as she opened a
drawer in the desk and started to rummage through the contents with
her gloved hands.

-----

'I've always liked the name Jeremy. And it suits you." April cooed as
she looked at the mechanic with wide blue eyes.

"Thank you ma'am." Jeremy replied with a slightly flushed face.

"Oh, you can call me Stephanie." April said in a breathless voice.
"Or, if you don't like that, you can call me whatever takes your
fancy."

"Stephanie is a pretty name."

"Thank you." She smiled. 'I wished they'd hurry up. I'm running out of
lines!'

-----

"I found a brown book stuffed in the back of this drawer!" Denise
exclaimed.

"Well, I found one in the 'J-K' drawer of the customer records! And
yes, it was in the 'K' section." Shirl replied.

"I found five of them! They look like accounting ledgers. According to
the dates, they are all from 1985." Dee said.

"We'll just have to take them all." Denise said.

"Is this the only place Nick takes his Caddie to be worked on?" Shirl
asked.

"That we know of, yes." Dee said.

"Well, let's get out of here and signal April." Denise said.

The three Cousins snuck out of the garage and into the alley behind.
Denise bent down to April's backpack and stuffed the seven books
inside. The women then walked around the building and across the
street to where April could see them. When April gave a sign that she
saw them, the threesome walked off to a nearby coffee shop, which was
the designated meeting place.

-----

"You mean that all that was wrong is that little wire wasn't
connected? Wow!" April exclaimed as Jeremy shut the hood of her car
and wiped off his hands. "How much do I owe you?"

"Nothing at all miss. It was a pleasure."

"Oh, that's so kind of you!" April said breathlessly.

"You might want to get those license plates cleaned off though. You
could be stopped by the police. You want me to clean them off?"

"NO! No, that's quite all right. I've troubled you enough. I'll clean
them when I get home." April said as she got into the car and put the
car into reverse.

-----

"So, what did we get?" April asked as she sat down into the booth of
the coffee shop.

"Well, we got seven books. One from the desk, one from the customer
records, and five that look like accounting ledgers. But it's better
to be safe then sorry." Dee told her.

"Well, when we get to CERK, let me have a look at the ledgers." April
said.

"Why?" Shirl asked.

April grinned. "Might as well put those College Accounting courses to
good use."

The foursome paid their bill, got up, and headed for CERK.


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


Texans Take On The Morgue
by Scottie
sss44@aol.com

7/29 8 a.m.

Dressed like TO police officers in uniforms Catherine had come up with
somewhere, Scottie and Vicky tried to get their nerve up. "Do we
*have* to do this?" Scottie asked.

Vicky, in her sternest voice, said, "Yeah, we do. Remember Perri asked
for volunteers? And you raised your hand? That'll learn you."

"I know, it's my fault." Scottie grinned. "How many times have we
heard that before?"

"Well, it *is* your fault. And you look really silly in that uniform."

"I don't know--I kinda like the feeling of power it imparts. You
realize we could probably get free coffee and doughnuts in these
things, don't you? Free Diet Coke is too much to hope for, right?"

"Right. And that's called taking bribes," Vicky lectured.

"I bet Schanke wouldn't turn down free coffee and doughnuts."

"Probably not. But then he's not here, is he? And we are," Vicky said.
"And one more thing--have you figured out how we're going to hide
these Texas accents? One Metro cop with a Texas accent we could
explain, but two?"

"One of us could fake laryngitis?" Scottie asked hopefully. "Maybe we
won't have to explain. Maybe Nat's replacement will be over at the
precinct, keeping an eye on Nick's replacement?"

"We should be so lucky. Come on, let's get this over with. Morgues
aren't my favorite places." Vicky shivered, then straightened her
shoulders, tried a swagger, and frowned at Scottie, who was trying
really hard to keep from laughing. "What's so funny?"

"Us. We are. Here we are in a foreign country, dressed in police
uniforms that were probably stolen, permit-less guns on our hips, even
if they do have blanks in them, about to illegally search a morgue for
a little brown book belonging to a vampire cop who's disappeared. Can
you say "arrest and deportation"? I knew you could."

**************
By some unbelievable stroke of luck, the door to the morgue was
unlocked. The lights were off, and nobody was inside. Well, nobody
other than a sheet-covered corpse, which they discovered when they
turned the lights on.

"I don't like dead bodies, Scottie." Vicky was still standing by the
light switches, just inside the door. "I don't like them a bit."

"It can't hurt you. It's dead." Scottie's voice was a lot calmer than
she expected it to be. "Unless it's got some dread disease that we
could get just by breathing the air in here."

"Thanks. Thanks a lot." Vicky locked the door and stepped gingerly
toward the body. "What do you suppose she died of?"

"Who?" Scottie was busy going through the drawers of the desk that
used to be Nat's, finding absolutely nothing of any value to the
present quest. *Somebody* had cleaned it out.

"Who, you ask? Who? That dead woman on the slab over there." Vicky
pointed.

"How do you know it's a "she"?" Scottie asked innocently.

"Well, either it's a woman, or a man who's had breast augmentation
surgery." Vicky answered.

"Pull up the sheet and look."

"Not on your life. Ick, this place gives me the creeps." Vicky
shivered again. "What are you doing on the floor? There's no telling
what you could catch down there."

"I'm checking for hidden drawers. Stuff taped under here." At Vicky's
dubious look, Scottie explained, "Murder mysteries. I read a lot of
murder mysteries. Somebody's always hiding something by taping it
under a piece of furniture in murder mysteries. Or hiding it in a
secret compartment."

"You need to get out more."

"I *am* "out"--this is a lot more fun than cataloging Texas state
documents, I guaran-damn-tee." Scottie moved over to the cold-storage
drawers and pulled the first one open. Empty. "Do you remember which
one of these Nick pulled the bag of blood out of?"

"No, I don't. I don't have Only the Lonely memorized, unlike some
people I could name." Vicky started on the file cabinet.

"Me either. I've always been a Nick and Janette fan. Oooohhh, remember
that scene in Near Death? The one where they've just brought Nick
across, and he wakes up and grabs Janette? Yeah, I *like* that scene.
The one where Janette says "Oh, I want him!"

"Yes, I know, I know, you *like* that scene." Vicky slammed the bottom
drawer of the file cabinet shut and looked around. "Nothing here.
Where else?" She did a double take. "Scottie, are you sure you want to
do that?"

Scottie was opening the door to the refrigerated room. "Nope, but
Perri said look everywhere, so that's what I'm doing. Wish me luck."

She was back in five minutes. "Nothing but steel walls and frost.
Although I do like the temperature in there." At Vicky's questioning
look, she elaborated. "Great if you suffer from hot flashes."

"Hot flashes because of Nick or because of hormones?"

Scottie grinned. "Both."

Vicky slammed  the last of the instrument cabinets shut and looked
around the room. "Have we missed anything?"

"That stupid head on the top of the cabinet over there. Did anybody
ever figure out why it was there?"

"Not that I know of." Vicky took the head down, searched it carefully,
and put it back. "Nothing."

"Well, all that's left is the infectious waste bin, and I refuse to
touch it."

Vicky pulled open a drawer and took out a pair of gloves. "I guess we
could use these. Check around behind it, under it."

"*You* can check it. Not me." Scottie moved to the examining table.
"I'll look around here." And couldn't resist a look under the sheet.
"Ewww. She's dead, all right."

"I don't think I want to know from what."

"You aren't going to believe this, Vicky. You aren't."

Scottie held the sheet so Vicky could see the corpse.

"She's got fang marks in her neck."

Vicky gulped. "You're right. I don't believe it. Let's get the hell
out of Dodge."

So they did.


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


Search and Seizure
by Perri Smith

July 29, 8 a.m.
Nick's Loft

When the doorbell rang, Cath groaned openly. "Who's THIS one?"

The Knightie nearest the monitor checked -- and instantly suspicion
clouded her face. "I don't know. Never saw her before. One thing's
sure, though: She's no Ravenette." Through the intercom: "Who goes
there?"

The answer came back neatly. "Nina Smith. Direct beneficiary of the
power of repentance, and consequently, reliable if ignorant Knightie.
Allison Percy will vouch for me."

Perri groaned from where she was getting her things together for the
raid. "What the hell. Send her up."

A few minutes later, the elevator opened and a Knightie stood there,
blinking.

"Good, you're here." Nina barely had time to put down her luggage
before Perri and two other Knighties blew past her. "Come on, you get
to help us search Natalie's apartment."

Nina blinked. "O-kaaaay." She shrugged and followed the other three
out the door.

********

"Perri, hurry up with the lock."

"Amy, every time I have to pick a lock, you stand over me and tell me
to hurry up. Has that *ever* done *any* good?"

"No. But it's fun."

Perri threw a dirty look over her shoulder and stood up, swinging the
door open. "Voila."

Polite applause from Carrie and Nina, a smirk from Amy D and they
filed into the apartment. Carrie tried a lightswitch and sighed in
resignation. "Power's off -- guess we do need the flashlights."

"Now that's a big surprise," Perri groaned. "At least ours will be on
today."

"Did you all notice the piles of mail at Natalie's box downstairs?"
Nina said. "Looked like about two months worth."

"Yes, we did," Amy told her, running a finger along a dusty tabletop.
"looks like about two months of dust too. Hey, Perri, this looks kind
of like your bedroom."

Perri ignored her. "What's really weird is that there's a war on and
no NatPackers in Nat's apartment. Where could they all be?" Three
identical shrugs; Perri sighed. "Split up and let's search this
place."

Carrie took the kitchen, Amy headed for the living room and Nina and
Perri took the bedroom. They called quietly to each other as
discoveries came to light.

********

"I found cookbooks -- mostly unused. Except for '1001 Ways to Make
Protein Shakes'."

"Let's take that one for Nick -- Nat wouldn't mind."

"Nick would."

******

"Junk drawer! Let's see... five years worth of tags for Sydney, three
scrunchies, ticket stubs from 'The Sound of Music', more ticket stubs
from 'The Sound of Music'... hey, fake fangs way in the back. Nat, we
didn't know you had it in you. Some official-type coronor forms --
blank...."

******

"Dust bunnie heaven under this bed."

"Those aren't bunnies - those are cats! Think she and Nick have the
same cleaning service?"

"Speaking of cats, where's Sydney?"

"With Grace or the NatPack, probably."

"Or with Natalie?"

******

"Blank video tape, still sealed, a couple more scrunchies, some
plastic thingies, broken mini-radio -- hmm, tuned to CERK. Bet she
threw it against a wall. Flea collar for Sydney..."

******

"There's stuff in the refrigerator. Mummified lettuce, some cloves of
garlic..."

"We can smell that, thanks."

"... very old yogurt..."

"How can you tell?"

"... and very old milk. Well, it used to be milk."

"What is it now?"

"... Yogurt."

"Ewww!"

******

"Rubber bands, pens, pencils, a couple of Queen tapes without cases --
Natalie listens to Queen?"

"If you leave any tape in a car or junk drawer long enough, it'll turn
into a  Queen tape."

"Right. Another scrunchie, some blue surgical gloves, a scalpel...."

******

"Found some more books! 'The Making of Dracula: The Series',
everything Emily Weiss ever wrote, 'Native American Myths and
Legends', 'Seances for Fun and Profit', 'Men Are From Mars, Women Are
From Venus'...."

"Well, they've both got it -- did they just not, like, read it or
something?"

"Or something."

******

"More scrunchies, I think she was collecting them, a couple of cards -
-but, um, none from Nick, not even the 'With Affection' one --
batteries, stale candy cigarettes, some of those peppermint altoids
and -- ah-hah! Notebooks!"

She handed them over her shoulder to the other three, who had been
staring at the contents of Natalie's junk drawer in absorbed
fascination. Carrie flipped through hers first. "It's blank. And
there's pages missing," she observed.

"Same here," Nina said.

Perri flipped hers back into the drawer with a flick of her wrist.
"Same here, dammit. There is nothing in this apartment that relates to
Nick in any way, shape or form."

"Except maybe the snake," Nina said, looking behind Perri.

"What snake?"

She pointed at the small wiggling shape in front of the sofa. "That
snake."

"Ahhhhhh!"


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


Just a Little Snip
Location: The Old Church
Time, July 29th, approx. 9:00 am.
By: Torrey Harris

Splashing water and muffled words could be heard coming from the
kitchen of the Church. Most of the Vaqueros were in there trying to
wash all of the hair goo out of Vachon's hair. Muffled curses could be
heard, along with words like "lacquer," "glue," and "shellac" floated
across and out of the room. Sherri came back around the corner to see
Torrey still standing in the same place she had left her.

"Ummmm. You know that grinding your teeth like that is bad for you?
...don't you?" Sherri asked, looking at Torrey.

"Muphgr...,*&%$#,  *&%^$#,  and *&%@#" Answered Torrey without moving
her lips.

/ Wow!/ Sherri thought, /I never realized you could curse like that
without moving your lips./ Reaching into her bag she brought out a
pair of scissors. "It looks like we will need to even his hair out a
bit; you want to do it?"

Just then Vachon emerged from the kitchen looking like some poor
drowned puppy.

"See!" Sherri chirped, trying to brighten the mood. "It's not so bad
after we got all of that goo out of his hair." Torrey just glared at
her. "Ummm, Vachon. I was just asking Torrey if she would like to even
your hair out for you."

Vachon looked at Torrey's face, now turning a strange shade of purple,
then at the sharp scissors in Sherri's hand.

<Blink>

<Blink>

"Okay, how about I do it for you then?" Sherri said, realizing that
Vachon was probably right about giving Torrey sharp objects right now.
Vachon sat down and Sherri set to work.

Turning and walking out of the room, Torrey passed the kitchen and
looked inside. The place was covered in water and wet Vaqueros. They
seemed to be trying to free themselves from the sticky hair residue
that had glued at least two Vaqueros to the tile floor. /I don't wanta
know.../ Torrey thought as she walked past and shut her self in the
choir room.

THUNK
THUNK
THUNK
thunk
thunk
thunk
bump
THUNK

The Vaqueros looked toward the Choir room. "What the heck is that?"
Storm asked.

"That?" Sherri said as she worked on Vachon. "That would be Torrey
banging her head on the wall."

"She still does that?" Vachon asked, sighing. "I should have known."


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


Vachon, Are you sure you want to know?
by Pat Casey

July 30, 1996
At the church, A little after Just a Little Snip.

Pat had to run an errand down to the basement.  She knew Vachon was
there, resting, but that was were they had taken the extra 2-litter
bottles of drinks.  Why down here, she didn't know.  Looks like they
could have found a closer spot to the main room.  But then she wasn't
the boss.

She flipped on the light.  "Sorry to disturb you, Vachon, but we ran
out of drinks."

Vachon bolted up from a cot that he had been stretched out on.  "No
problem, I wasn't sleeping anyway.  All that infernal racket outside. 
It sounds like a gaggle of geese. All of Canada's geese must have
landed here."

"Uh," I said, wondering what to say.  "There not all wild geese and
they were brought here."

Vachon straighten up and didn't look too happy.  "What in the devil is
going on here!  First everyone takes over my building, then you bring
geese in here.  I hope there's a good explanation for it."

"I hope it's good too.  They're our security system.  We couldn't
afford an expensive alarm system."

Looking dumbfounded, he just stared at her.  He shook his head.  "I
thought I had heard of a lot of things over the years, but that takes
the cake."  He laughed.  "Actually, it's funny."  A gaggle alarm.
Those things squawk if anything moves."

Pat sighed, relieved.  "That's the general idea.  Then your not
upset?"

"Does it matter?" he asked.  "It seems that I'm destined to deal with
several things I don't like."  He ran his fingers through his hair.

"It's very becoming," Pat dared.  "Your hair, I mean. Although, I must
admit I like the long hair better.  Will it grow back very quickly?"

He grinned.  "Faster than a mortals, for sure.  Sit down and talk with
me, Pat.  I have plenty of questions."

"Like what," Pat said, pulling a rickety chair up beside the cot.

"For one, like why aren't you afraid of me?"

Pat giggled.  "I would be if I hadn't known you just downed several
bottles of red liquid just a little while ago."

He looked thoughtful.  "Humm.  Tracy wasn't afraid of me, except when
I vamped out.  Do you know were she is, by any chance?"

Pat hesitated.  A lot had happened while he was in the ground.  "Well,
it's a long story."

He grinned.  "I have plenty of time."

Pat returned his grin.  "I guess they can wait on the soda pop
upstairs."

"I don't know where to start."

"The day I was buried would be a good time."

"Yeah, I guess so.  It did start with the trouble Divia caused.  It
turned out that Divia was LaCroix own child. She was trying to kill
everyone that LaCroix was close to. Nick stabbed her through with a
stake and killed her. LaCroix cremated her body so that she couldn't
come back."

He turned a shade of green.  "Stake," he said, quietly."

"Sorry," Pat said.  "Didn't mean to sound so graphic.  I know stakes
are bad news for you guys.  Well, anyway.  Nick and Nat started having
trouble.  She didn't want to go on like she did, and wanted Nick to
bring her across or end her life.  She really got suicidal."

"So Nat's a vampire?"

"No, well, I don't know.  See, well.  Nick was going to just take a
little and he lost control.  He took too much. She was dying and
LaCroix showed up.  He's always popping in when something's going on
with Nick.  And you know what a nice guy he is.  He told Nick to
forget her and move on."

"So she died," Vachon said.

"Well, I don't know.  Nick wanted LaCroix to stake him so that he
could be in the here-after with Nat.  She believed that he had enough
faith to always be with her."

"Nick's dead?"

Pat shrugged.  "He disappeared.  They both disappeared.  I heard that
he's alive and that he had a chore for the Knighties and they are to
do something for him.  That's what started the whole war."

"Oh."  He hesitated. "Where's LaCroix?"

"His followers are in Toronto, too.  We're not sure if he's here.  The
Vaqueras/os haven't seen him."

"You've skipped all around Tracy.  What about Tracy?  If Nick's gone,
is she still on the Toronto PD."

Pat grimaced.  "Well, Tracy . . . uh . . . well, she was shot."

Vachon shot up to a sitting position.  "She's dead?"

"Well, I don't know.  She got shot in the head and was declared dead,
but rumors are spreading that she's around somewhere.  Her followers
are in town.  Either they are trying to find her or she has contacted
them.  It's rumored that they don't know where she is either."

"Tracy," he whispered.  "Oh man.  I hope she's not dead.  I . . . "

He seemed at a lose for words.  "You had grown to love her, hadn't
you." Pat said.

"Love is a foreign emotion to most vampires," he retorted.

"True," Pat said.  "But Nick loves, and you love too.  I think you
love Tracy, and if she's out there, I think you'll be reunited."

He looked glum.  "I hope so," he said.  "I hope so."

"Pat?" a voice called from the direction of the stairs. "Are you down
here?"

"Yeah, Nancy.   Vachon and I were just talking."

"Well," Nancy said.  "We were starting to worry about you."

Vachon grinned.  "Did you think I had her for lunch?"

Nancy looked embarrassed.  "Uh.  Well.  I didn't know what to think."

Pat rose from her chair.  "I guess I better get these upstairs,
Vachon. "

"Yeah, well," he said.  "Thanks for getting me up to date."

Pat grinned.  "Anytime."  She giggled.  "After you've fed at least."


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


Law and Order? (1/6)
by: Berg Oswell
Monday 29th 9:45 am

The trip down to the dungeon was uneventful, although I did pause to
admire the work my fellow Mercs had done to make the place feel just
right. The dripping water, the rats (all de-fanged, but Maureen didn't
know that), and, of course, the darkness.  I *love* darkness, it's
where I do my best skulking.  But I'm getting distracted.  I have a
sacred duty to perform.

As I reach the cell, I hear a whimpe