*********************************************************************
                            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 whimper from within.  Peering through
the bars, I note that not only do the rats have Maureen cornered, they
appear to be describing their script for Hamlet to her.  Not even
Maureen the Traitor deserves that.  Besides, the script the monkeys
came up with is better.

After rescuing her from the rats (which involved directing them to a
certain Broadway producer I know.  'Course, I didn't tell them it was
Screed), I dragged Maureen up through the dark catacombs (well, hey!
You expect me to say I walked her out of the basement instead?  That
lacks drama!) to the courtroom.  As I settled her in the prisoner's
dock, her eyes took in the the prosecutor, the defender, and, most of
all, the court full of Mercs. I swear, her scream must have been heard
in Miami.


----------------------
continuous to part two


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


Law & Order? (2/6)
By: Abby Albrecht
Monday, 10 am, ... The 29th Diane <g>

[And now, the continuing saga of Mercenary Court.]

The court room looked familiar to everyone present. And it was very
comforting. Especially the view of New York from the half-circle
window above the jury box. Maureen's eyes went to that window every
few minutes. *How did they get me across the border so easily?* she
wondered nearly aloud.

Her lawyer, Lizbet "If I had gone to USC I would have been the DA"
Lewis, saw her client's eyes and the confusion behind them. "Nice
touch, eh?" Lizbet smiled slyly. "Abby wanted to pay homage to her
favorite sit-com. It took her all day to build the model and secure it
to the window."

"I don't think I want to know..." Maureen replied, remembering how
strange Abby was in War 4. Visions of a toga crossed her mind.
"Shouldn't we talk about the case?"

"Nope. There's no time." Lizbet looked over to the bailiffs flipping a
coin to see who got to call court to order. Sara won.

"All rise!" Sara ordered cheerfully. "Merc Court part one is now in
session. The Honorable Dianne T. DeSha presiding."

Dianne swept into the court room with style appropriate to a
Raven/ette. Sitting down in her comfy judge's chair, Dianne adjusted
her white wig (this is in Canada, remember) and gaveled her gavel a
number of times to silence her adoring crowd -- well, except for
Maureen. There was just one thing wrong with this morning... The
smell... It was...

Kangaroos?!?

Kangaroos were being marched (hopped) into the jury box. *Abby!*
Dianne thought loudly. *She did promise a kangaroo court... I just
wish they had used deoderant...*

"Order, order," Dianne gaveled. "Kira. What's our first case?"

Kira looked up from her desk, her fuzzy sweater vest making her look
more trustworthy than a Merc probably should. "The Guild versus
Maureen the Mad."  Kira went up to the judge's bench and flung the
file on Dianne's lap. *That's for thinking I'm sweet,* she grumbled to
herself.

Dianne gave her a dirty look through her sliding wig, but decided it
would be safer to ignore her. "Ok, then I guess as District Attorney,
Dawn, you go first. Any witnesses?" Dawn nodded as she and Liz the
Lucky got ready.

Calliope looked up to Dianne from her stenographer desk, "Was I
supposed to type that?"

"Yes, Calliope, you were..." Dianne sighed. She didn't want to have to
repeat everything for the record.

"Oh, good!" Calliope replied, grinning.

Dianne was going to reply, but thought the better of it. Anyway, Dawn
was ready...

------------
continuous to part three


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


Law & Order? (3/6)
by: Dawn Steele and Liz the Lucky
Monday 29th a bit after 10 am

"It all started with the penguin," Liz said.

The witness chose that moment to start examining the ceiling tiles, as
if in search of a familiar face. Her eyes went out of focus, and
started to cross.

Dawn pulled down the bottom of her Armani jacket, and stepped a foot
closer. This was the prime prosecution witness; the one who would seal
Maureen's doom tighter than an Egyptian tomb. She didn't let her
satisfaction show through the facade of the high-priced-and-
thoroughly-efficient district attourney. "And just <where> were you
when you met the penguin?"

Liz's gaze turned to Dianne's face. The Grand High Poobah was sporting
a white (Canadian) Judge's wig that didn't quite cover her read hair.
"Answer the question."

She nodded in agreement, which made her red twenties bob sway for a
few seconds, and then looked towards Maureen - the <third> redhead in
two paragraphs. Coincidence? I think not!

"I was having lunch in Alice's Restaurant when a penguin came up to me
and offered me a job.  He said he would give me a scallion (most folks
call them green onions, but they're really scallions) if I would get
him a Menthos (tm) mint.  He said they make him tingle in places he
didn't even know he had.  And what girl could resist an offer like
that?"

A murmur of agreement passed though the crowd. (Okay! It passed
through the scallion loving part of the crowd - picky, picky, picky!)

Berg and Sara rustled importantly in their bailiff's outfits. Thoughts
of 'Night Court' were passing through their minds, and they were
determined to live up to its high bailiff standards. They moved closer
to Maureen, and then stared the crowd into silence.

Maureen slumped further back into her chair, which made her trenchcoat
bunch up unpleasantly. She was starting to fume (again).

Dawn leaned up against the witness stand. "You can continue. What
happened after that?"

"So I jumped down the rabbit hole and started chasing a cute little
pig in a striped shirt.  Only when I finally caught up with him, it
turned out he wasn't a piglet after all, he was a Martian in disguise
(funny, he didn't look like my grandmother).  And that's when things
really started getting strange.  Because just then five foot tall
pepper shakers appeared.  I think they were the pest people because
they kept shouting something about termites, it was kinda hard to make
out because of their British accent. But before anything could happen
a shimmering silver cloud surrounded me and I think **Hey cool, Zeus'
about to seduce me.** But when the lights stopped flashing, this guy
with a lobster on his head greeted me in the name of his ship.  And I
think **that's not a starship, that's the space shuttle.** Just then a
kid in a red baseball cap, a giant chicken and a really tall guy with
a ponytail and broadsword flew out of a hole in a wall.  The kid
grabbed my hand and pulled me through a hole in the opposite wall.  I
suddenly found myself all alone on a golden cobblestone pathway.  But
that's ok, I'm not a pokey little puppy, so I don't have to worry
about not getting strawberry shortcake for dessert."

Liz took a deep breath, clearly winded from her enthusiastic foray
into truth, Justice, and the X-Files way. Her next pronouncement was
filled with strong conviction, and enthusiasm.

"And that's why Maureen's guilty."

The entire courtroom erupted in clapping, yells of encouragement, and
moose cries. Dianne let it continue for a minute before using her
judge's hammer.  "Quiet!" BANG! "This is <my> courtroom!" BANG! BANG!
BANG! "And I simply <won't> have moose cries..." BANG! "allowed!"
BANG! BANG!

Dawn's high heels clicked her way back to the prosecutions' desk. She
sat down, and let a satisfied smile cross her face. "Your Honor, I
rest my case!"

Dianne nodded. "Ok, Lizbet. Your turn!"

--------------
continuous to part four


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


Law & Order (4/6)
by: Elizabeth Ann Lewis and Lane Lombardia

Lizbet watched as Lane took the stand.  She knew she had about as much
chance of winning this case as Nick did of getting a klew, but she was
going to give it her best shot.

She got up to cross to the witness stand in her best Jill Ekenberry/LA
Law imitation, muttering under her breath.  ~Darn, I hate wearing
heels.  How did I get into this mess?  Darn USC people...~

"Mr. Lombardia, how well do you know the defendent?"

"Maureen has persistently claimed to be "Mad"; but, I tell you, this
has all been a clever ruse! We have no idea how long she stayed in our
midst after having been turned against us by the Natpackers. Need I
remind anyone that the Natpackers had full and detailed knowledge of a
threat to us all, which they withheld during War 5, instead sending us
annoying 'Chuck-E-Cheese' tokens? That was their idea of fair
warning?!?"

Lizbet winced, remembering the token she had gotten.  Cruel and
unusual punishment for a person on a diet, to offer them pizza.

"In War 4, we can already see the signs that Maureen, if she was ever
truly one of us, had already been turned against us, lured by abundant
supplies of "Performance Enhancing Drugs" (doled out by Natalie on the
sly)."

"Come now, Mr. Lombardia, how can you accuse a respected doctor of
such a thing?" Lizbet demanded.  NatPacker *was* on her long list of
affiliations.

"How else can you explain someone of Maureen's--um, comparatively
smaller stature--" with a glance at the barely-five-foot-in-killer-
heels defence attorney-- "being able to slam as impressive and
imposing a figure as our beloved current Grand High Poohbah into a
wall? Divine intervention? I don't think so!"

"Maybe Belial?" Lizbet offered, but Lane ignored her.

"Are we to believe that Maureen has secretly been a master of close
quarter battle all this time; but, somehow never got around to
mentioning it to anyone? Wouldn't you expect that if she had such
saleable skills, that she would have offered such services, increasing
her revenues that much more? Of course she would!"

Lizbet caught herself nodding, until she remembered that she was
supposed to be *defending* Maureen.

Lane continued.  "The fact that she did not, shows that there was no
sich skill. It, therefore, had to be artificially augmented strength!
Obviously, Maureen's addiction to these "Performance Enhancing Drugs"
has become so acute that she could no longer garner an adequate supply
from Natalie without risking exposure. The Natpackers had no choice
but to call her in, to keep their augmented muscle for hire under
control."

"Was there every any evidence that she was out of control?" Lizbet
asked, with a nervous glance back at the red-headed woman sitting at
the defence table.

"Maureen has been quick to blame a belligerent temper on the color of
her hair! We know it was really "roid rage" that she was referring
to!"

Wound up, Lane finished his speech without any encouagement from
Lizbet.

"Not only is Maureen's own duplicitious behavior exposed in these
incidents; but, the very dark, twisted, and completely non-profittable
heart of the NatPacker soul is also revealed. Not only do we _have_ to
find Maureen guilty; but, we must remain ever vigilant to the true
heart of villainy which haunts Toronto."
--------------------------------------------
continuous to part 5


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


A Newbie Employed
Time:  During the Trial ("Law & Order?")
by Erin MacLean


Erin sulked in one corner of the living room at Merc Central.  It was
great to finally be in Toronto for her first war and to meet all her
fellow Mercs. But since she was new at this, she was not exactly in
high demand.  What could she do to prove herself?

The phone rang, and Erin looked around nervously before answering.
She didn't want to step on anyone's toes, and Mercs could be a
little... competitive... when it came to business opportunities.
Since no one else seemed to be around (most everyone was at the
trial), she picked the phone up.  "Hello?"

A muffled voice spoke.  "Erin MacLean?"

"That's me," answered Erin excitedly.  A call for *her!*

"Don't get worked up," the voice said sharply.  "Everyone else is at
the trial, you are the only Mercenary we can get in touch with."

"Oh," replied Erin, deflated.

"I have a case of Sno-Balls."

Erin sat up straight, every Merc nerve in her body tingling.  This was
*it.* Her first job, commissioned by someone who knew her price.
"What can I do for you?"

"The Guild has kidnapped a woman known as Maureen the Mad."

Erin's smile faded.  "You'd better make that two cases.  On second
thought, *three.*"


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


Law & Order? (5/6)
by Maureen "The Mad" Wynn
follows from Law & Order, part 4


"Belligerent?! I'll give you *belligerent*!" Maureen said, rising from
her chair, pushed past endurance by the rampant madness surrounding
her. Lizbet rushed back to the defense table and tried to get her
client to sit down.

"The defendant will be seated!" the judge declaimed imperiously,
pointing her gavel at the angry redhead with one hand, while her other
hand tried unsuccessfully to straighten the wig that insisted on
sliding into her eyes.

"The defendant will be violently ill!" Maureen retorted, fending off
her erstwhile lawyer. "If we're going to talk about drugs, I'd like to
know what interesting ingredients the _honorable_ judge is ingesting
these days!" she continued, glaring at her one-time friend and
colleague. "This is crazy, even by *your* standards, Dianne! What
*are* you on?"

"How *dare* you!" shrieked Dianne, giving up on the wig and tearing it
from her head, leaving her strawberry-blond hair disheveled. She shook
the wig in Maureen's direction, punctuating her diatribe with tosses
of the white curls. "This is *my* court, and you will behave yourself,
or I'll hold you in contempt! We're going to railroad you, and you
will sit quietly while we do so!" The judge then jammed the wig back
on her head, futilely trying to cram her long blond hair under the
short wig, leaving long strands sticking out at random.

"Oh, believe me, I'm in contempt!" Maureen answered. She was getting
tired of Lizbet's attempts to push her into her seat, and she gave the
smaller woman an impatient push that sent Lizbet sprawling on her ass
on the polished floor.  Lizbet gaped up at her client in shock. "Hey,
I'm trying to *defend* you!" she whined, trying to get up. The
unaccustomed heels slid out from under her, depositing her on her
fundament once again. "Ouch!"

"Then try harder!" Maureen snarled, transferring her glare to her
"lawyer". "And while you're at it, why don't you try asking the
"witness" what proof he has for any of his wild accusations."

"Proof!?" Lane asked incredulously. "Why, my proof is your own
behavior!" he added snidely.

"Hearsay, inadmissable. Also, you can't testify as to my state of mind
--you're not a qualified expert witness. Therefore your entire
testimony is inadmissable.  In fact, this... this... *kangaroo* court
proceeding," Maureen said, now transferring her glare to the creatures
smelling up the jury box, "is inadmissable, inaccurate, inappropriate,
inane, in*sane*, unfair, unforgivable, and downright *unbelievable*.
I'd get a fairer trial from Judge Roy Bean. At least *he* wouldn't
expect me to bring my own noose!"

"Did you bring a noose?" Dianne asked eagerly, peering around the
court as if hoping to see a gallows miraculously appear.

"Ohhhhh...!" Maureen groaned, rolling her eyes toward the ceiling
again. "What's the use?" She collapsed into her chair, gathering her
trenchcoat around her as if it could protect her.  Her hand strayed to
the string of the necklace that disappeared under her shirt's
neckline, seeming to gather some comfort from it.

Sara and Dawn finished helping Lizbet get to her feet.  Lizbet brushed
them off, trying to reclaim some measure of dignity as she
straightened her suit, and faced the witness box again. "Um, I concur,
your honor.  There is no validity to this witness's testimony."

"Out of order!" Dianne declared, pounding her gavel. "Redirect!" she
ordered the prosecution.

Dawn regarded the Merc on the stand. "Do you have anything to add to
your testimony, Mr. Lombardia?"

"Yes, I do.  That renegade doctor is the *real* cause of the change in
our ex-colleague..."  The rest of his sentence was drowned out by the
crash of Maureen's chair hitting the floor as she leaped to her feet
again.

"You will *not* slander Natalie's name!  Natalie is the only one who
knows what she's doing, she's the *best* coroner in this city, she's
smarter than LaCroix, she has a style and class that Janette couldn't
possibly aspire to, she's the cutest, the sweetest, the *neatest*
person you could ever want to meet..." Maureen raved, driven past mad
by this latest calumny against Natalie.  She continued to rant and
rave as Sara and her fellow baliff righted the chair and forced her
back into it.  She continued muttering, oblivious, as the trial went
on around her.  Her hands found the scatter of papers that Lizbet had
spread out on the desk, and started to straighten them into neat
piles.  When she finished with the papers, she started lining up the
pencils across the top of the desk. She looked up when Dianne
announced, "I will now render a verdict."

"Why don't you render yourself into a nut-house!" Maureen shouted,
standing up again. "You've turned the Mercenaries Guild into your
personal little fiefdom, in order to wage your own War against me."
She turned to appeal to the Mercs gathered in the courtroom. "Do you
really want this fruitcake as your Poobah? Don't you think you deserve
*better*?"

Some of the Mercs started to shout at Maureen, while others started to
argue with each other, the cacaphony drowning out Lizbet, who was
trying to argue with Dianne. Two Mercs in a heated disagreement came
to blows, and the baliffs waded into the crowd to break it up, while
the other Mercs started taking bets as to who would win. Maureen
smiled, well pleased with the dissention she had sown in the Mercenary
ranks...


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


Law and Order? (6/6)
   a.k.a. "Fortuna, Imperatrix Mundi"
      (why? Because I'm just generally difficult, and I'm working on a
       theme here, guys :-)
   by Dianne la Mercenaire <Cat.Goddess@pobox.com>
      (on behalf of the Guild... who may well disown her shortly...)

[Timeline:  well, right after L&O 5/6, of course <g>]



Merc Court was rapidly turning into a zoo-- and it wasn't the
_kangaroos'_ fault.

"*Silence!*" Dianne bellowed, jumping to her feet and raising the
Shillelaigh of Deat... uh... Great Pain on high. She turned menacingly
towards Maureen, who had dropped back into her chair, and ordered the
defendant to rise.

Maureen looked pointedly at what was apparently an astonishingly
interesting speck of dust on the desk before her. Then she sighed and
began twiddling her thumbs.

"On your feet!" Dianne repeated, her voice dropping to a quietly
menacing tone that chilled the blood of every Merc in the room.

Kira, having made the unfortunate mistake of watching the Olympic
javelin finals only the day before, eyed the way the GHP was hefting
that shillelaigh and motioned urgently to the defense.

Finding herself caught directly between two power-mad, GHP-level,
Merc-trained, potentially berserker *redheads*, Lizbet gulped audibly
and forcibly dragged her client to her feet with a sudden strength she
hadn't known she possessed.

>From the bench, Dianne nodded curtly and proceeded to read from a
lengthy scroll.

        "Maureen the Mad, Former Grand High Poohbah, Purported
        NatPacker, and Traitor to Your Affiliation, attend this Verdict!

        "Whereas it has been Determined that you were neither
        Brainwashed nor Forced into your Appalling Actions under
        Duress;

        "Whereas it has been Demonstrated to this Court's Satisfaction
        that your Behavior, Actions, and Demeanor since the
        Conclusion of the Fifth of the FKFIC-L Wars have been those
        of a Raving NatPacker;

        "Whereas Witnesses of Good Character..."

 <she ignored loud snorting sounds coming from the general direction
of the accused>

        "...have Attested in Sworn Testimony in Open Court that you
        have, in the Past been known to Physically and Violently Attack
        fellow Mercs in general and to actually Strike a Future Grand
        High Poohbah-- in itself a Capital Offense...."

"Objection!" Lizbet jumped to her feet. "No one testified to that!"

Calliope, the court stenographer, whose fingers were about to fall
right _off_, stared in frank amazement that anyone had managed to
follow that sentence at all.

Dianne, recovering from the surprise at being so rudely interrupted
for such a minor detail of legal pettiness, frowned mightily. "Well
they *should* have."

Lizbet saw a glimmer of hope and grabbed it tight. "But they
*didn't*."

Dianne looked accusingly over at the Prosecution-- who shrugged-- and
then at Abby, Court Coordinator.

Abby shrugged. "You were the only one there to witness that one," she
pointed out. "And it *was* two wars ago...."

"There's no statute of limitations on attacking the Grand High
Poohbah!"

"You *weren't* GHP at the time, Dianne." Maureen smiled evily. "You
were just a flailing little War newbie."

"But I am _now_." She matched Maureen's evil grin. "You should have
thought of that at the time, dear."

Maureen went back to rolling her eyes at the ceiling.

"Now," said Dianne, reassuming her declamatory pose, "Where were we?"

"Um...," Calliope scrolled back through a hideous mess of steno tape.
" 'Strike a Future Grand High Poohbah-- in itself a Capital
Offense....' "

"Is _not_!" Maureen hissed, but Dianne ignored her.

"Good, good." Dianne nodded. "Now on to the charges...."

"But nobody testified to that," Lizbet insisted. The contest might be
horribly rigged against her, but she was still going to fight. "I move
that that last finding be stricken from the record!"

Calliope winced. Striking stuff from the record was such a pain.
Besides, she hadn't figured out how to do that yet.

Dianne sighed. "Fine! _I'll_ testify. Sara? Swear me in."

"*Objection!*" Lizbet might not be a Real Life lawyer, but it didn't
take a law degree to _know_ there was something seriously wrong about
having your judge testifying for the prosecution.

"Overruled!" Dianne snapped, moving to the witness stand. "The
prosecution may begin."

Dawn looked slightly startled, but quickly regained her composure and
rose from her seat. "I have only one question for this witness, Your
Hon... um...." She looked through her notes. "Has the defendant in the
past been known to physically and violently attack fellow Mercs in
general and to actually strike a future Grand High Poohbah-- in itself
a capital offense?"

"Damn straight!" Dianne answered.

"No further questions." Dawn sat down with a relieved sigh.

Lizbet looked up wearily at Dianne, who was already moving back onto
the bench. "I don't suppose I get to cross-examine?"

"I don't really see the point." Dianne responded as she struggled with
the wig. "Overruled. The reading of the verdict will continue."

Standing once again with the parchment in hand, wig only slightly
askew, the Grand High Poohbah continued:

        "Know Therefore that you have been found Guilty by a Jury of
        your Peers..."

 <repressed snickering in the courtroom was quickly frowned down>

        "...of the following High Crimes and Misdemeanors:

                * Desertion of Duty
                * Assault and Battery on a Fellow Guild Member
                * Striking a Future Grand High Poohbah-- in itself..."

" 'A capital offense'." Maureen yawned openly. "Yeah, yeah. We got
it." Dianne frowned and added another scribble to the parchment before
continuing.

                "* Contempt of Court
                * High Treason...."

"Does anyone ever commit 'low treason'?" the Mad One asked
nonchalantly.

                "* Warring Under the Influence of the Pack
                * The Vicious Slander of your Fellow Redheads...."

"Red? Yeah, *right*...."

Lizbet just sighed and gave up any attempts at restraining her
client's outbursts.

                "* Fraternizing with the Enemy
                * Indecent Public 'Bouncing'
                * Perjury
                * Unauthorized Espionage
                * Terrorism...."

"*Terrorism*?" Kira whispered to Abby.

"Giving the Guild a bad reputation." Abby explained under her breath.
Kira still looked puzzled. For that matter, so did Abby.

                "* Failure to Pay Guild Dues in a Timely Fashion
                * Besmirching the Spotless Reputation of the Mercenary
                        Guild...."

Even some of the Mercs looked a bit surprised at that one.  Who'd have
known they had a reputation that could be besmirched?

Dianne was obviously winding up to a big finish now.

                "* Mail Fraud
                * Spitting on the Sidewalk
                * Inappropriate Separation of Recyclables

                        *AND*...."

<she paused slightly for dramatic effect>

                "*Failure to Pet a Chinchilla as a Sign of Resignation!"

There was a moment of complete and utter silence in the courtroom,
finally broken by the cheers of the onlooking Mercs (who knew enough
to appreciate a free show).

Maureen and Lizbet looked at each other. Lizbet looked at Dawn. All
three of them looked at Dianne.

Calliope wished heartily for a spell-check.

"*WHAT*?"

Dianne didn't flinch. "Abby *assures* me it's in the Charter
somewhere."

All eyes turned to Abby, who mumbled something and refused to look up
from her computer terminal.

They looked back at the bench as the parchment was unscrolled at least
another foot.

        "Be It Hereby Known that, having been found Guilty of these
        various Charges, and under Deep Suspicion of having on more
        than one Occasion attempted to Flout the Laws of both Gravity
        and Physics, Maureen the Ma..."

Abby grabbed her elbow-- in a show of bravery (or lack of self-
preservation) few in the room would have attempted at that moment, and
was now whispering urgently in her ear.

"That's *ridiculous*!" Dianne could be heard to hiss. "I will
_not_...." her voice dropped off, as Abby continued. The GHP frowned
as Abby stepped away. "It has been brought to my attention," here she
glared at Abby's retreating back, "That This Court has been
insufficiently 'PC' during the course of this trial."

"Not that that means that this is a _bad_ court, you understand," she
hastened to add. "Nor that the people in it are insufficiently
niceness-enabled." She winced as though she'd swallowed a porcupine
whole... and was feeling it all the way down. "But steps will be taken
to remedy this grievous injustice immediately. Thank you."

Holding the parchment out at arm's length again with a flourish, she
amended:

        "Be It Hereby Known that, having been found Guilty of these
        various Charges, and under Deep Suspicion of having on more
        than one Occasion attempted to Flout the Laws of both Gravity
        and Physics, Maureen the 'Happy-Challenged' is hereby
        Sentenced to Be Dragged and Quartered at Dawn...."

Abby was at the GHP's side again before you could blink. "Damn War
rules!" Dianne muttered as they separated again.

"All right, by My Most Merciful Intercession, your petty little life
has been spared."

Maureen greeted this news with an out-stretched tongue.

        "Be It Hereby Known... yadda yadda yadda... Maureen the
        Happy-Challenged is sentenced to have her Hair dyed Blonde,
        Really Really Blonde, Until there's no Color Left at All-- I
        Mean she should Make first-season LaCroix look Brunette."
        Dianne clarified, looking pointedly at her bailiffs.

        "She will also be Restrained, in a Position in which no
        'Bouncing' is physically Possible, for the next Twenty-Four
        Hours, and Forced to Watch FK episodes...."

Maureen almost started to smile.

        "But Episodes only from amongst the first Nine of the Third
        Season."

The smile wavered.

        "And the Episodes she is Shown will have All References to or
        Appearances of Natalie cut out-- to be Replaced every time by
        That Scene from Amateur Night where she's Gushing over the
        Ditzy Blond Bimbo Actress."

The smile was entirely gone now.

        "At the End of which Time, the Unfortunate Sinner is to be
        thrown out into the Street-- to fend for herself in the Cold,
        Heartless World; a Pariah; Never to be Aided or Abetted by a
        Guild Member again. Until she dies, a dark, lonely death, of
        Exposure and Multiple-Bounce Concussion."

She looked hard at the woman sitting before her and finished darkly,
"Reap What You have Sown! From this day on, I *Have* no Mad One!"

There was a collective gasp from the crowd. (Although whether that was
from the harshness of the sentence or the generally growing awareness
that this trial was taking an *awfully* long time between bathroom
breaks was unclear.)

Lizbet rose to valiantly give it one last try. "I suppose it would do
no good to object to this verdict?"

"On what grounds?" Dianne asked, with genuine surprise.

"Um, on the grounds that it is highly illegal, immoral, and possibly
perverted; the accused was kidnapped and held against her will in a
dungeon; the jury and the defendant are not even the same _species_;
the judge is a power-maddened autocrat who reopened the case after the
verdict was decided, testified for the prosecution, and then refused
to be cross-examined; the charges are without foundation, the
procedure *highly* irregular, and the witnesses _insane_; the charges
do not match the findings, which do not match the verdict, the
sentence, or *any* known version of _reality_...."

"No," Dianne cut her off, not unkindly. "It really wouldn't."

Lizbet sat down in defeat as the bailiffs advanced to carry out the
sentence.

"*None* of this is in the damn Charter!" Maureen protested, as she was
led away. "And your new Poohbah is Stark Raving Mad!" Her voice
trailed away as the door closed. For a moment no one moved, they just
looked at Dianne in uneasy silence.

Dianne la Mercenaire looked at the assembled Guild, shrugged her
shoulders, and responded: "It takes one to know one."

After sticking a tongue out happily in the direction Maureen had been
dragged, the GHP gathered up her things and left the court.


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


Uhh oh!!! Part 1/2
By Denise Underwood(ithildin@mbay.net) and
April Ruskin (aruskin@edge.ercnet.com)
Monday July 29, 1996 1000am
CERK

"Now remember April,  I'll take the blame." Denise whispered to April.

April protested. "I was the one who lost it."

"But I was the one who let you have the card, ultimately it was my
responsibility. Besides, no reason for both of us to be in trouble."

"He'll see you now." The receptionist told Denise and April.

The two got up slowly, and taking a deep breath went into the office.

"You have both been careless." LaCroix told the two women, who stood
looking at the carpet. "Not only did you lose a credit card with no
limit, but  you let it fall into the hands of the Nick and NatPackers
who used it to create their security system! What do you have to say
for yourselves?"

Denise straightened her shoulders and looked LaCroix in the eye. "It
was my fault sir. I should never have let April keep the card after
the redecorating was finished."

"So, you take responsibility  for this fiasco?"  LaCroix  asked in low
menacing tone.

"Yes sir." Denise answered in as brave a voice as possible.

"And what actions have you taken to remedy the situation?"

"Denise immediately canceled the card General, and the AMEX fraud
people are attempting to track down the perpetrators." April said in a
rush.

"Indeed?"

Denise and April stood in silence as LaCroix walked around behind
them, considering  the fate of the two women. He stopped directly
behind them, so close that they could feel his breath on their necks. 
The two women attempted to remain calm, even though they knew it was
pointless. LaCroix knew just how frightened they both were.  April and
Denise started in surprise as each of them felt a hand come to rest on
their throats.

"You are brave." LaCroix said approvingly. "I admire that in my
followers. And the fact that you defend your compatriot also does you
credit." He paused for a moment, slightly tightening his grip.
"However, it does not change the fact that you failed me.  But it does
mean I'm inclined to be lenient in this particular case." His voice
dropping to a velvet whisper. Suddenly, they found themselves released
and LaCroix standing in front of them again.

"We're prepared to accept whatever consequences you choose sir."
Denise said, her voice faltering under LaCroix's piercing stare.

April nodded agreement. "Yes General, we are."

LaCroix walked over to his desk and sat down. He stared at the two
women in silence for a while, allowing them to stew for a bit. "The
two of you have done well managing the manor house for me." LaCroix's
voice suddenly breaking the silence. "And you have taken on the rather
thankless task of keeping an eye on several of the more annoying Nick
& NatPackers when they visit." He finished, distaste evident in his
voice.  "So ladies, I believe I shall dispense with my first
inclination in regards to your penance." LaCroix said benevolently.

LaCroix sounding benevolent caused the  two women to become more
worried rather than less. They waited for the other shoe to drop, each
of them at least thankful they weren't to be breakfast.

LaCroix reached a decision  "I think I have a suitable punishment.
According to the report, you did a good job at Slinky's Auto Repair.
You did a thorough search in a small amount of time. So, I think you
two would be ideal for searching the sewers that are under Nicholas's
warehouse and the sewers for a block radius for the book. In fact, why
don't you two go start now?"

April opened her mouth to protest, but Denise stopped her in time by
stepping on her toe.

"You were going to say something?" LaCroix asked.

April answered: "Umm... well... It's just that... We could spend the
whole War searching the sewers sir, which would leave us out. And
there's no real reason to believe that Nick hid the book in the
sewers, and there are others who need our help, and..."

"Enough!" LaCroix said. "You babble to much."

"Yes sir, sorry sir." April mumbled.

"If others need your help, they can call you on your cellular phones.
Otherwise, all of your free time during this War will be in the sewers
until you find a brown book or I tell you otherwise. Is that
understood?" LaCroix said in a low voice.

April and Denise nodded.

"Good. You may go now." LaCroix dismissed them.

April followed Denise out of the office and shut the door. "Whew"

"My sentiments exactly. So, where do we start? Under Nick's warehouse
and go outward? Or start a block away and go inward?" Denise replied.

"We might as well start the search under Nick's apartment. Good place
to start as any."

"Let's just hope that Nick's book turns up. We could possibly spend
the rest of our lives looking for that thing."


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


A Wild Goose Chase
Place:    The Old Church
Time:     starting 10:00 a.m. July 29


by Apache and Charlyne Walker

with contributions by
Stormsinger, Bonnie, Shannon,
Stephanie, and Sherri




Rolled up in a sleeping bag on a pew, Apache surfaced to consciousness
at about 10:00 with someone else's pleasantly furry cat on her
shoulders and inexplicable sounds of whooping in the near distance.

She squinted, and then sat up in astonishment.  There was a whole
computer bank being wired up over there -- and last night there hadn't
even been electricity, just flashlights and candles.  She trailed over
to peer at them -- okay, it was just for show, she was lucky if she
got a plug in a socket -- but they looked pretty dern cool.

"Okay," said Torrey, "now that we're all fully conscious," she shot a
glance at the late-rising Apache, who also had not been charming
company in the wee hours of the day before, "here's the SitRep."

"Say what?"

"Situation Report."

"Somebody's been watching too many Arnold movies," grumbled a voice
from the herd, but Torrey ignored it.

"Vachon is here," she said.  "For those of you who didn't know... he
actually cut it pretty close to daylight.  We don't know why he went
out so late... maybe he just can't stand the smell of fresh paint" --
Sarah produced a sickly grin -- "especially when the paint is cut with
his lunch."  Sarah's grin got a few degrees sicklier, but Torrey
didn't notice, suddenly preoccupied with an entirely different line of
thought. //I have *got* to stop using that 'C' word,// she told
herself sternly.

"Now we need to settle in for the day," Torrey continued.  "The place
is clean, or at least clean-er, and we need to think about keeping it
that way.  So now we--"

"--hope for the best and plan for the worst," chimed in her Teniente.

"Exactly," she said.  "Those of you who were here last time -- I have
only one word for you:  cows.  Those of you who weren't -- well, let's
just say it wasn't a pretty picture."

"Cows?  Like, *cows* cows?" Nancy asked blankly.

"I'll tell you later," muttered Sherri.

"It was probably a prettier picture than a desecrated head of rock 'n
roll vampire hair," growled Apache.  An inarticulate snarl echoed this
sentiment all around the church.  "Personally," she continued, "I'm
thinking scalps."

"Uh, yeah," said Torrey.  "But first things first.  Whoever did this--
if they're capable of that, then nothing is too low for them and we
definitely need to be thinking about security. The floor is now open
for suggestions.  We need to secure our perimeter, and we need to
establish some second lines of defense here in the interior."

"Border collies?  Australian shepherds?" said Nancy with a grin. "That
oughta fix..."  her voice trailed off as Torrey glared.

"Rottweilers," Jenn tried.

"Nah, a Merc would bribe them with chocolate and still have most of
her fee left.  Besides, how do we know they wouldn't kill *us*?"
someone objected.

"Laser beams."

"Now somebody's seen 'Goldfinger' a few too many times."

"No," said Charlyne thoughtfully.  "Actually.... how do you feel about
retinal scanners?"

"Well, I can't say that I've ever met one personally," said Torrey. "I
was thinking along the lines of motion detectors, maybe?"

"Oh, that goes without mentioning -- kid stuff," said Charlyne
dismissively, waving a hand in the air, not noticing the looks on the
faces around her.  "And we should secure our computers, now that we've
got them -- I can do some nifty encryption stuff..."

"Um, for those of us on the other end of the technological scale...
could I suggest geese all around the outside?" said Apache. "I've had
some at the farm. They're the best watchdogs in the world. They squawk
at anything that moves -- nothing will get by them.  I mean, on a
cranky day, they go off for a falling leaf."

"Oh God," said Shannon.  "Geese.  They don't just squawk -- they
attack.  And there is *no* way to bribe them."

"There's another benefit," Stephanie added.  "They, uh -- well, goose
doo is slick as oil, so even if someone got into the yard, they
wouldn't be running -- at least, not for long."

"I like this, too," said Sherri the Teniente.  "My brother and three
other adolescent males--"  a general sniff of disdain echoed through
the church -- "Right.  Well, they kidnapped a goose and a gander once
and put them in a Post Office.  The goose laid an egg, so the gander
got very protective.  A cop showed up and tried to chase them out, but
when the dust settled -- there were two geese and an egg in the Post
Office, and a cop beating the street."

"Guys," said Torrey. "Yeah, sure.  Let's just go right down to Yonge
Street and pick up a few geese.  No?  The Underground Mall?  Let's get
real, OK?"

"Geese can be had," said Apache firmly.  "Especially now that we're
online.  Gimme a few minutes."  She ruffled in her knapsack and
surfaced with four precious computer disks.  "Mead Data Systems," she
said with reverence.  "Orem, Utah.  Trouble rather a tiger in its lair
than a lawyer with a really excellent database."

As Apache put into motion her plan to acquire the geese, Charlyne dug
into the boxes that she had brought with her.

"OK guys, I need some volunteers," she announced, and drafted a few
Vaqueras who were standing around.  "OK, it's time for Popular
Electronics 101," she announced.  Starting with "Rule One, don't stick
your finger in a socket...." she gave them a crash course in running
wire.

In barely quarter of an hour, one group was running the wiring for the
alarm contacts to the windows and doors. The other group was running
the wiring for the optical scanners and the videos cameras to be set
up at the main entry points.

While the disks were uploading into the computers, Apache had pulled
out a laptop and made a few notes.  Five or six minutes later, she
announced, "Okay, here's what we need: chain link fence all the way
around the church, some of those inflatable kiddie pools for water, a
trough for feed -- you know what they love?  Purina Rat Chow -- but
grass is good, and some kinds of seed -- what else? "

"Geese," said Bonnie helpfully.

"Piece a cake," said Apache.  "Somebody get on the phone and start
organizing fence -- a construction company can get that kind where the
poles have their feet in concrete buckets here in an hour or two."

"Yeah, for a fee," said Sherri.

"You know the Card number," Apache said wearily.  "Just hand me the
phone when it's time for me to give the PIN number."

"Are you kidding?" said Sherri with a laugh.  "We know *that.*"

"'Better to go down with boughten friendship at your side/than none at
all,'" muttered Apache.  "'Provide, provide.'"  But she was grinning
as she said it.

Meanwhile, once the wires for the optical scanners were in place,
Charlyne went to work connecting them. //Good thing I brought the ones
that look like a lamp-- no one will know what they are without being
told,// she thought as she wired them up.  She then made sure that the
software was setup correctly to read in the retinal scans.  Once she
was satisfied, she yelled for the room's attention:

"And now for something entirely different:  everyone line up to get
your picture taken... *sort of*."

She had the Vaqueras line up and scan in their retinas then sat back
with a satisfied sigh. There were a few faction memebers not currently
accounted for, plus Apache who refused to be pried loose from the
keyboard, but they could be scanned in at a later time.  They would
just have to be let in until their scan was finished.  //Of course,
what if Vachon decides to come past.... Oh heck, nothing's perfect,//
Charlyne told herself, absently wondering what a vampire's retinal
scan would look like, anyway.  //Or do they have two, one normal and
one vamped out?//

While the remainder of the wiring was put into place, Charlyne
reviewed the other security measures. The motion detectors would be
connected to the same wires as the window & door alarms. She could
have one of the wiring volunteers conntect them as soon as the wiring
was finished.

//Now let's think encryption.// she told herself.  All that remained
for the computers was double checking the firewall to keep prying eyes
out. The machines were passworded and the important data was encrypted
to keep someone out if they did manage to gain entrance to the church.
Her teams of volunteers came to report that the wiring was finished
and all of the sensors were connected.  //Lookin' good, alright,// she
thought.

One last systems check and Charlyne pronounced everything online and
functional. //Even MacGyver would have a problem getting in here,//she
thought with satisfaction. /And last I heard, the Mercs hadn't
recruited him.//

Apache had been hovering anxiously over the uploading Mead Data disks,
but at last she said "Hah! the computer's up!"  Turning to the
keyboard, she accessed Lexis/Nexis, punching in her user ID code.  "We
have an unlimited account as long as there are only four users at a
time from my office,"  she explained.  "If we stick to off hours, we
shouldn't conflict with anyone."

"And... I'm in.  Here we go.  Let's try a big one: nws;curnws;toronto
and geese."  She waited a few seconds, and said, "Jeez."

"What?"

"There've been 315 stories with 'geese' and 'Toronto' in them in the
last two years alone.  I mean, how much is there to say about geese?
Wow...  Give me a couple minutes..." She leaned back into the
keyboard. "Bingo!" she crowed five minutes later.  "_Friends of Ducks
and Geese v. Mich. Dep't of Natural Resources_, U.S. District Court
for the Eastern District of Michigan, opinion by Judge Denise P. Hood,
June 26, 1996."

"What *are* you babbling about?" someone demanded.

"Five hundred Canada geese with wings already clipped and a death
sentence on their little feathered heads.  All we have to do is -- oh,
God -- hire another plane to go get them."

"Gold Card," chorused several Vaqueras, with just the teeniest bit of
malicious satisfaction in their voices. They hadn't entirely forgotten
that Apache had drawn the plum assignment to off alone with Vachon and
Torrey early Sunday morning.

"That's 500 geese *hours* from now," said Torrey.  "We need to be
ready NOW."

"Well, locally, we have grounded geese in Orangeville, wherever that
is, the Grenadier Pond, wherever that is, and Missassauga, which I
know is real close because we saw it from the plane when we were
landing. These geese have been mentioned in the Toronto Sun within the
last month," said Apache smugly. "They add up to nearly 100 geese, if
I read the articles right."

"All of those places are close," said Sherri. "This might work."

"Two of the geese in Orangeville sound very promising," Apache added. 
"They're called Bonnie and Clyde."

Evil smiles flashed around the nave.

Using the sudden, smirky silence to advantage, Charlyne made an
announcement to the security detail: "One last bit of business, but
this is the fun stuff. We need to set up our booby traps for someone
who is silly enough to try to break into our headquarters."

"Booby traps," said the Vaqueras, almost as one.  "Oh yeah."

"Your assignment, should you choose to accept it -- and it looks like
you have," Charlyne continued, "is to find the worst things you can
think of to heap upon the invaders.  Meet me back here as soon as
possible and we will get it all set up.  I have a few nasty things in
my bags, but you are a creative group, and I know we can come up
with...  well, things to horrible to mention on a family computer
list."

"Booooooby traps," repeated the Vaqueras, smiling.

"The geese will help," Shannon reminded them.  "Remember that
expression about, uh, glop through a goose?  We can use that glop."

"Geese glop," said the Vaqueras raptly.

"Hey, cut that group-think thing out right now," Torrey admonished.
"No Borgs here.... "

The Vaqueras looked sheepish, then resumed their normal
disorderliness.  But in low voices, they were still saying "booby
trap" to each other with happy smiles.

"Uh, guys, one thing," said Bonnie.  "How am I supposed to get to work
every night past these geese?  Uh, not to mention the... glop?  I
mean, I have to wear a nice dress and nice *shoes.*"

"You'll think of something," Apache said with a shrug.

"Thanks, pal," said Bonnie.  "That really warms my heart."

"Okay, brooms.  They hate brooms.  We'll give you a broomed escort to
the sidewalk, how's that?"  Apache thought Bonnie's answering smile
looked less than wildly enthusiastic, but at least she hadn't said no.

"Okay, guys," chimed in Jenn.  "The fencing is coming -- you'll never
believe it, these guys are actually called Acme Construction.  And we
found a toystore that has splash pools on sale.  And a petstore that
has duck food, which better be close enough."

"Five hundred geese," said Stormsinger.  "I mean, I once *cooked*
roast goose for a hundred, but...  five hundred live geese.  Wow."

"Six hundred," corrected Apache.  "A hundred on trucks on their way to
us already."

"Which raises the next question," said Torrey thoughtfully. "Where in
Toronto do you suppose I can find the world's greatest earplugs?
Because, you know, not to make a big deal of it or anything, but
something just sort of tells me that Vachon isn't going to think this
is music to his ears.... "


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


Reach Out and Touch Someones
by Perri Smith

July 29, 10:30 a.m.

Takes place after Search and Seizure and Texans Take On the Morgue and
before Cows, Cops and a Skateboard and Pretty in Pink.


The four Knighties came blowing into the loft yelling something about
'stupid snake', 'just a garter' and 'fourteen hundred scrunchies' at
the top of their lungs. Cath watched with amusement until Perri veered
over and grabbed her arm. They retreated to the kitchen.

"So," Cath asked calmly, "How'd it go?"

Perri looked disgusted. "Up until the snake appeared, it was pretty
damn frustrating. After that, it was just nuts."

"Snake?"

"One of the little snakes from last war -- guess the NatPack missed
one. I don't mind guard dogs, but I hate it when they slither."

"Could have been worse. Could have been one of the frogs and you could
have had Scottie along. You did clean up before you shrieked and ran,
didn't you?"

"We didn't shriek -- much -- and of course we cleaned up. We're only
slobs in our own space. The hell of it is, the only things we found
were because of what we couldn't find."

Cath thought about it, then replied brilliantly, "Huh?"

"All of Natalie's stuff was there, right down to the most amazing junk
drawer I've ever seen. But nothing that had anything to do with Nick."

"Nothing?"

"Nada. Niente. Rien. Bupkis, even." Perri looked even more disgusted.
"And considering Nat basically had no life except Nick for the last
five, six-odd years, that is too strange to be believed."

"Yeah." Cath's forehead furrowed. "No luck on the notebook then?"

"Nope. We couldn't even find her 'lab rat' books on him. The cards he
gave her were gone, there was just nothing there, like he'd never even
been in his life. I'd think she was a hallucination except that we
found a matchbook from The Raven."

"But nothing else? That means someone tossed it before we got there."

"Yup. And months ago, judging from the dust levels. But the suspect
list is damn near endless."

"Natalie herself, the Enforcers, LaCroix, the NatPack -- hell, almost
any faction. And whoever did it could have the book."

Perri slumped against the counter. "Yeah. My money's on Natalie or the
'Pack, by the way. The search was really, really neat -- the Enforcers
or LaCroix would probably have left it messy, to throw suspicion on
her disappearance to mortal foul play."

"You think sneaky."

"Paranoia will do that to you.  I'm calling the 'Pack. Either they did
it or they need to know someone did it."

"Do you think they'd tell you if they did?"

"Maybe."

"Would you believe them if they said they didn't?"

"After last war? Hell, no."

"Just wanted to make sure," Cath grinned. "Before you go running off
to raise caine, do you want to hear what Scottie found at the morgue?"

"Was it nothing?"

"Yeah."

"Then no, I don't want to hear."

*********

"This is ridiculous!"

"Problem?" A few Knighties wandered over.

Perri slammed the phone down and glared at it. "I almost wish we
hadn't gotten this damn thing back, it's not doing any good. Not a
single NatPacker is answering, at home or at work."

"Try e-mail," Marg suggested.

Perri blinked, then grinned in spite of herself. "You know, that's
such a simple plan that the American mind tends to discount it."

Amy D tried to hit her. "Stop doing Ray Vecchio impersonations and get
on your computer."

********

DATE: July 29, 1996 12:56 p.m. EST
TO: Finabair@aol.com
FROM: perridox@intex.net
SUBJECT: Where the %&$#* Are You?

Jennie,

I need you to contact me. We're in the middle of a war, apparently,
and I need some information concerning Natalie. I may also have some
information you might find interesting. I'm at Nick's loft with the
others -- you know the number.

Perri

******

"Nice and cryptic," Cath approved.

"Thanks. You do better with the NatPack when they're curious."

"Okay.. now time for the Cousins."


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


Uh oh!!! Part 2/2
By Denise Underwood (ithildin@mbay.net) and
April Ruskin (aruskin@edge.ercnet.com)
Monday July 29, 1996 1100am
Sewers under Nick's warehouse

"I, I, I don't need your poison/I, I, I don't need control/I, I, I
don't need forgiveness/I, I, I don't need... you."

"APRIL!!!"

"Huh? What" April took off her earphones and looked at Denise
innocently.

"You were singing! Please stop!"

"Oh, sorry."

"Don't you have any decent cassettes to sing too?" Denise asked in
exasperation.

"Like what?"

Oh, I don't know. Tempest or Loreena McKennit?"

"Ya, right Denise!" April shook her head in disgust.

Denise pushed her hair our of her eyes, tired and out of sorts.
Listening to April sing that whatever it was called music  all the
younglings listened to these days had not improved her mood.

"How far have we gotten?" April asked.

"Well, I'd say we're still under Nick's warehouse. In fact, we still
have most of the sewers under it to search."

April groaned. "We'll be here forever!"

"No dear, just till after the War ends or LaCroix says so. Whichever
comes first."  Denise sighed. "I'm sure it will seem like forever
though."

"There has to be a quicker way to do this then peering into all the
nooks and crannies of these tunnels. It going to make my eyesight
worse than it is, and I don't need that." April grumbled.

"Just keep reminding yourself that we are lucky to be here April.
LaCroix let us keep the manor house and he didn't make us snack food."
Denise shivered. "It could have been oh so much worse."

"I know, I know. doesn't mean I have to like it though. Got any
ideas?"

"Let's try and think like Nick." Denise began, only to be interrupted
by April laughing hysterically.

"Do we have to?" April got out, still laughing. "We'd have to be all
angsty and brick-like."

"You know what I mean April!" Denise said grinning. "As I was saying,
a lot of these sorts of buildings have sub basements. If Nick was
going to hide something here, it would makes sense to use the sewer
entrance closest to it."

"Wouldn't they assign the basement areas to the tenants as storage?"
April asked excitedly.

"Yes! April, great idea!"

Denise and April made their way to up out of the sewers to the
basement. After several twists and turns they found a row of doors
with names on them.

"Denise, here it is. 'Knight'" April motioned Denise over. She
rummaged through her backpack, pulling out her bolt cutters. In
moments, April had cut the padlock.

Denise pulled the overhead light cord, illuminating the storage area. 
Other than a few empty crates and a few wooden chairs the room was
empty. April quickly looked over the chairs, but found nothing. Denise
found the sewer grate near the back of the room.

"April, help me lift this off."

Between the two of them, they managed to remove the grating. Denise
held the flashlight as April dropped down to the sewer floor below.

"I feel like I'm in an X Files episode." Denise told April. "I just
hope fluke man isn't in this particular sewers."

April gave Denise a dirty look. "Gee thanks for the thought." April's
look of disgust turned to one of excitement as she noticed, taped to
the ceiling near the opening that Denise looked down from, a plastic
wrapped package. April pulled the package off the ceiling and handed
it up to Denise.

After she had helped April up from the sewer, Denise carefully opened
the package,  revealing a small brown book. They looked at each other
and then, giving a little shriek, hugged each other excitedly.

Ten minutes later, they were back at the car and on their way back
with their prize.

--
Note: Lyrics from song "Goodbye" by Gravity Kills off of Mortal Kombat
Soundtrack.


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


Cops, Cows, and a Skateboard
by Catherine Boone
catheboo@cco.caltech.edu

Takes place 11am, the 29th.


Catherine waited patiently while Allie stretched her legs, muttering.
"Why am I doing this again?" she asked plaintively.

"Because I haven't ridden a bicycle since elementary school, and I
don't trust myself to necessarily run faster than an enraged Cousin,"
Catherine replied.

"And you're not using a car because..."

"Because it's too big, and we need to be maneuverable.  Besides, it'd
take too long to start the engine."

"What exactly are you planning on doing?"  She bit down the 'to me'
part, but Catherine heard the implication anyway, and affected a hurt
look.

"All you have to do is bike me across the street from CERK to here,
and then we'll just do some nice circling here in the parking lot.
It'll be fun.  Really."  Allie gave her a sour look.

She looked across the street to the CERK building.  Catherine had
scoped the area out earlier today to make sure her idea had a chance
of working. Fortunately, it looked just about perfect: they were
sitting in a nice, large parking lot, without those annoying cement
blocks in the spaces, and between them and CERK was a rather large,
well-travelled street.  Now all they had to do was wait for the proper
moment...

"There!" she cried.  Two beat cops were finally making their
appearance, a couple blocks down.  It was time to strike.  She turned
to Allie.  "All limbered up?"

"As much as I'll ever be."  Catherine picked up her skateboard, and
the two of them trotted across at the crosswalk, Allie tugging at the
rope attached to the bar beneath her bike seat.  She looked
skeptically at Catherine in front of the CERK front door.  "I hope you
know what you're doing..."

"Don't worry!" Catherine replied cheerfully, setting her skateboard
down directly behind Allie's bike.  "Just be ready to book the moment
I hop on, all right?"

An inkling of Catherine's plan crept into Allie's mind.  "Oh, you
aren't."

Catherine smiled, and simply repeated, "Be ready..." as she stepped
through the outer doors of the lion's den.

***

"Cherri... oh Cheeeerriiiii...."  Catherine found her almost
immediately.  Not very hard when you just follow the rhythmic mooing.
"Hey, Cherri!"

The Cow whipped around, a vicious glare appearing out of that smiling
Jersey head.  "What do *you* want?" she snarled (well, as much as a
body *could* snarl, when in a cow's head).

Catherine raised her hands in a peaceful gesture.  "Hey, I just
stopped by to say hi, and thanks for putting all those miles on your
car so's I could come to your parties."  She looked her up and down,
the first time she'd really been able to get a good close look at
Cherri's... predicament.  A grin spread across her face.  "You should
really get one of those nipples pierced, Cherri.  Make a very cool
fashion statement."

"Catherine..."

"C'mon Cherri.  Live dangerously.  Think chains."

"*Catherine*..."

"Or, dare I say it... a big," her smile got bigger, "thick," she was
smiling so hugely, her eyes were almost screwed shut, "nose ring?"

Cherri just stared at her, her face hidden behind a big pink snout.
Catherine stared back, her features contorting with surpressed
laughter, trying desperately to win this game of mini-chicken.
Finally, a small titter escaped.

Cherri launched herself at Catherine, but she'd been expecting it, and
bolted back the way she came.  Cherri slowed by her lumbering cow
suit, Catherine by her howls of laughter.

Allie sat patiently, waiting for the disaster that Catherine seemed to
constantly be causing, for good and ill.  Whatever it was, it'd better
be good.  She was missing men's swimming, darnit.

Allie wasn't really sure what she was expecting when Catherine came
back through those doors.  But when the sounds of an imminent cattle
stampede assaulted her ears, she decided that wasn't it.  Catherine
came barrelling though the doors, Cherri hot on her heels.  She leaped
on the skateboard, screaming "Go, go, go!"

Allie took one look at the enraged look of her pursuer, and figured it
was probably in her own best interest to do just that, and took off.
The two made a beeline for the parking lot across the street, while
Catherine looked back to see if she was following.  Heck with
following, Cherri was about two inches from catching her.  "Can't you
go any faster?" she shrieked.

"You try biking with a frigging colony of bowling balls on your rear
end!  What the *heck* have you been eating?" was the growled response.
Catherine looked back in front of them, and her eyes widened in
horror.

"Allie, median!  MEDIAN!!" she cried.

"I know." was the calm response, as she jerked on the handle bars to
get her front wheel to clear.

"Not you, darnit!  MeeEEEEEEE!!" Catherine took one hand off its grip
on the rope and held on to the skateboard beneath her as she hit the
median and went flying.  She screwed her eyes shut and repeated over
and over in her mind *nothing too gory, nothing too gory, nothing too
gory*

She slammed back to the cement, not only right side up, but still on
her board.  *Thank god for list rules.*  She spared a glance back at
the cops as they swiftly sped around a car already screeching to a
halt.

***

"Hey, Vinnie.  Isn't that the Cow?"

His partner looked where he was pointing.  "Looks like it, Carl.
Causing another five-car accident, too."

"As we speak," Carl agreed.

"Time to go catch some jaywalkers?"

"That's why they pay us the big bucks, Vinnie."

The two gave chase, shouting "Stop!  Police!"

***

Lisa McDavid dreamed of having a good day.  One of those happy dreams,
where no one got lost, no one was sent to jail... she liked that
dream.

Unfortunately, it was still a dream.  And would remain so, as she
looked out the window while giving a small briefing to the Cousins
currently at CERK, and saw the two police officers take off after
Cherri, who was leaping over the median of the street in a single
bound.

"No no no no no *no* NO!"  Lisa raced out of the room, desperate to
get out there and catch Cherri before she was forced to support even
*more* public officials through bail money.  The Cousins watched her
go, looked at each other and decided en masse to go downstairs and see
what was up.

The scene that presented itself, well... Allie was out in front,
starting to get red-faced with effort.  Catherine was still had a
deathgrip on the rope tied to Allie's bike, and her head was craned
back, and she was hurling even more insults at Cherri, who was moving
amazingly fast for all her bulk, not far behind Catherine.  The two
overweight cops were several yards behind them, now too out of breath
to shout as they huffed and puffed along, just strong enough to
occaisionally shake a baton at them weakly.  Behind them all beat
Lisa, still shouting at Cherri and waving her arms around as if she
still had that undead lobster in her hand.

And so they went, around and around in the parking lot.  No one caught
anyone else, but they all gave it a good college try.

They kept the Cousins in tears of laughter for a good long time.

No one noticed a small group of Knighties slip in the side door.

----
to be continued...


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


Pretty in Pink
by Catherine Boone
catheboo@cco.caltech.edu

Takes place after Cops, Cows, and a Skateboard

Perri paused in the side entrance to CERK, about twenty Knighties in
tow.  When they finally made their way to the main hallway, Perri
turned and whispered, "Okay. We," she motioned with her hands, "are
going this way.  You guys go that way.  Be quick, but cover as much
area as you can.  We don't have much time."  They silently nodded, and
took off down the hall.

Perri thought she found something that might have been Lacroix's
office, but damned if she could even pick the locks to his file
cabinets. Frustrated, she stalked back out to where about six others
were searching the recording studio.  They were also coming up empty-
handed, and a couple gave her some lost/annoyed looks.  "All right,
that's it.  There's nothing on this end, we're just driving ourselves
crazy at this point. Let's see if we can't find the others."

They made their way back, only to find the rest grouped around the
window. *We were working out arses off down the hall, while they were
sitting here sightseeing?*  Perri opened her mouth to give them a
piece of her mind, when she heard the soft sound of what sounded
awfully like a maniacal cow with hoof-and-mouth.  She looked over the
group crowded at the window, and watched Catherine and Allie's
progress.  "Stampede!" she softly cried, to a chorous of giggling.

At that point, though, disaster struck.  Allie hit a rough patch of
glass, and one of her tires blew before she could blink twice.
Catherine went flying past her, out of control on the skateboard, and
crashed into the chain link fence about ten feet away.  Cherri
collapsed from exhaustion at her feet, and Carl and Vinnie, who had
finally opted out of the chase and were sitting on the side waiting
for something to happen, came out and calmly started filling out
tickets.  They skipped right over Cherri, ironically, since Lisa had
already stopped as well, and paid them the required amount up front,
knowing the fine down to the penny out of long practice.

Perri glanced down beneath them, and her eyes widened in shock.  The
Cousins, their fun had, were coming back in.  "Guys, guys!  Time to
go, they're coming!"

Perri, bringing up the rear, saw the door begin to open as they dove
down the last hall.  She made a flying leap through the door and
slammed it shut with her foot with only seconds to spare.

Catherine and Allie met them at the loft, Allie already dead to the
world on the couch, asleep where she had fallen.  Catherine came
bounding to the door, heedless of her scratches and bruises.  "Look,
Perri! Pretty pink tickets!  Allie got one, and I got *three*!  Aren't
they cool?"

Tired, dirty, and with not a few bruises of her own after that jump-
and-roll, Perri bit down the sudden irrational urge to strangle her
co-leader and took the tickets.  She made a little coughing sound at
the prices.  "You actually expect me to pay this?  It was *your*
idea!"

Catherine poked her head out from behind the refrigerator door with a
tolerant look.  "Hey, you wanna write the attacks, I'll pay for your
tickets.  Think of it as the price of creativity."  Perri plopped down
on the floor and rested her back on the side of the couch.  Catherine
returned from the kitchen, Diet Pepsi in hand.  She offered it to
Perri, "Truce?"

"You'll be the death of me."

Catherine snorted.  "No, that swill in your hand will be the death of
you. I'm harmless."

Perri smiled.  "Mostly harmless."


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


Blond, Blonder, Blondest (01/01)
By: Berg Oswell, Mercenary
Time: Monday, July 29th, 11:00 am
(Takes place right after the kangaroo court :)
Place: Merc Central



As I dragged Maureen the Mad out of the courtroom, kicking, screaming,
and threatening, I paused to wonder just why I do this.  The answer
was immediate.  I'm in it for one thing.  The chocolate and the covert
ops. Er, two things.  The chocolate, the covert ops, and the glory.
Er, well, we both know where that was leading, so let's not.


Resuming the march, we passed down a long, dark hallway, finally
ending up at The Door.  Now, The Door is *big*.  It looks like it
could keep FoDs away from the last souvlaki in the world.  Pressing my
palm to the scanner, I pushed the door open with my foot.

Within was the Place of Punishment.  A hard metal chair sat bolted to
the floor, before a massive TV, and a bank of several VCRs.  After
getting Maureen settled (a process involving half a dozen manacles), I
inserted a small needle into that special little nerve cluster that
paralyzes you below the neck.  I then attached the special helmet, and
sealed it in place.

Now, the stage was set.  A single button push would bring the TV to
life, showing carefully selected FK episodes in all their Nat-less
glory. Simultaneously, a hose attached to the helmet would flood the
poor former-GHP's head with peroxide and a few other interesting
chemicals, turning her into the blondest blond since LaCroix.

And just to prevent any dodgy moves like her closing her eyes, I taped
her eyelids open.  As I left the room, I hit the little red button,
and listened to the screams of horror as I walked back down the long
hallway, satisfied with a job well done.


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


A Pair of Knighties do the Town (1/2)
Time: various times Monday 7/29
By: Robbi Egersdorf and Nancy Taylor

Place: Nick's Loft
Time: Morning

"What are we going to wear.  All I brought was jeans, shirts, and
comfy shoes.  Don't we need to go dressed to the nines and in heels?
We have got to go shopping."  Nancy Taylor laid out her case.

"Ditto for me.  I don't think they'll let us in with jeans and t-
shirts even if they do say 'Knightie' on the front pocket."

"Your point is well taken.  I believe that our Nick can swing a couple
of dresses for this.  I'd say it's for a good cause, wouldn't you."
Cath turned to Perri, her co-knightie-leader.

"Yes, I guess you're right.  There is no way around it, is there?"
She directed the question at the two Knighties now high-fiving as they
sat before her.  "This is serious business.  You are representing the
good name of the Knighties and I want you to act the part,
understand."

Nancy and Robbi instantly sobered at the admonition.  Simultaneously
they answered, "We understand."

Nancy added, "Do we get to take the caddy?"

Cath smiled and held up the keys and Robbi instantly grabbed them and
was running for the door before Nancy knew what hit her.

She paused at the door.  "Well, are you coming?"

Nancy looked back to her co-leaders and whispered, "I'm going to have
to get that girl back."

Both Perri and Cath shook their heads and wondered if they had made a
mistake in letting these two go to the Brabant Exhibition that night.

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

By the time Nancy reached the caddy, Robbi had the top down and was
sitting in the driver's seat a look of rapture on her face.

Nancy turned to Robbi with a look of sheer horror on her face.  "Not
only do we need clothes, I've got to get my hair done!  You do realize
that Janette will probably be there, maybe LaCroix, and who  knows how
many of "us" from the other factions?  We've got to look presentable!"

Robbi turned to her excitable new friend with a smile, "I know just
the place to go!  Marg Yamanaka told me where to go."

Robbi and Nancy entered the shop, eyeing all the wonderful formal
attire. Nancy was drawn to a gorgeous, floor-length evening gown done
in a sapphire blue satin, split up the side in a most provocative way.
The off-the-shoulder neckline beckoned too.  "I'd never have the guts
to wear anything like this," Nancy fingered the material lovingly.
She turned to Robbi who was admiring another gown.

"Go for it girl!"  Robbi enthused.

Looking around for a matching pair of high-heel pumps, Nancy grabbed a
pair and headed to the dressing room.  Five minutes later she emerged.
"Wow!" said Robbi.  "Girlfriend, don't you look stunning!"

Nancy just grinned.  This was going to be more fun than she had
originally imagined.

Robbi picked out a simple dress with large pink roses on a background
of black and grabbed a pair of black pumps on her way to the dressing
room.

When she emerged, Nancy was pleasantly surprised.  "It suits you.
Accentuates all of your good qualities."

Let's pay for this and get going.  We've got appointments to get our
hair done.

Nancy's shoulder-length brown hair had always been difficult to do
anything with. She just sighed and told the hairdresser to do her best
to come up with something dressy-looking for the evening.  When she
emerged from the shop, her hair was done up in a lovely coiffure atop
her head with wispy tendrils framing her face.

Turning to Robbi, whose long rich brown hair was done up in an elegant
but simple herringbone braid she said, "There's no way, if we're
taking the caddy, that I'm riding with the top down!  Not after
spending three hours in there to look like this."

Robbi looked disappointed, but nodded in agreement.


end part 1
----------------


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


Click!  Click!
By:  AJ Schaafsma, Lana Soward, Sarah Chodrow, Spifff,
     and Diane Eshelbarger - all unaffiliated


***

July 29th, noonish
Spifff's apartment

"I'm going insane, I gotta go for a walk.  See you all in a flash."
AJ grabbed her camera and back pack and headed out the door.

***

July 29th, 5pm
Spifff's Apartment

AJ dragged herself into the apartment.

"Can you believe it?  I get there three hours before they close, and
they can't do One Hour service," she announced, sighing with
amusement.  "I think the poor girl behind the counter was expecting me
to jump down her throat.  Well it's not her fault the technician mixed
the bleach and fix. So it's drain the whole setup, rinse, rinse,
rinse, and pump outputs until forever.  She was pretty nice about it,
and moved my film to the front. She said I can pick them up as soon as
they open in the morning.  The advantages of being understanding and
polite."

"What were you taking pictures of?"  Spiff asked

"I found myself near the place Lana and Sarah said they found Diane.
I thought since I was there I'd shoot some pictures to finish the roll
off."  AJ dropped her bag near the couch, and sat down.

"Well, don't sit down," said Sarah.  "Otherwise, we'll be late to the
exhibition.

"I haven't forgotten.  I'd like to, (i hate crowds), but I haven't.
Gimme a mo, I have mud on my jeans."  AJ rummaged through her travel
bags and jumped into the bedroom for a quick change.  "And then
something quick to eat!  Don't let me forget that too!"  She added.

****

July 30, noonish.

"Got them!"  AJ announced as she closed the door behind her.

"Got what?" asked Lana, as she looked up from her laptop.

"The pictures that I took at the scene of Diane's attack.  You should
have seen the looks I got when I picked these up.  I guess the clerk
though that they were going to be earthshattering pictures.  Not
pictures of trees, grass, and dirt.  Oh, and one real hunk. Look.  6',
long dark hair. Whoosh.  Too cute for words...  ANYWAYS!"  AJ pulled
out the pictures, and started laying them out on the kichen table.

"I also have a picture of Diane's doctor, so we can get a better look
at him, without staring. The resemblence to LaCroix is creepy.  Even
being in the room with him is nerve-wracking!"

"It's not that bad," said Sarah.  "He's more tan than LaCroix ever
could dream of.  Even with bronzing gel."

"Yeah," concurred Lana.  "And his eyebrows are several shades
lighter."

"Well, I don't like being in the room with him," said AJ.  "I feel
like he's always watching me while he's there."

"Probably because we're always watching him."

They admired the hunk, but agreed that he needed to brush his hair.
Too Vachon-like was the pronouncement.  One by one the pictures were
pushed aside.

"Look at this one," said AJ.  "Someone's been letting their dog dig
for bones."

She pushed forward a picture of two piles of disturbed earth.  It was
obvious that someone had tried to put the sod back in place, but they
didn't quite get it right.

"Wait a minute," said Lana.  She tapped her forehead.  "Where were
Screed and Vachon buried?"

"In the park, down by the water," said Spifff.  "Where'd you take this
picture, AJ?"

"Down by the water..."

The three Unaffliates stared at each other.

Vachon and apparently Screed had risen (or been dug up) from the
grave.


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


A Brick for Nick?
Untitled Book 1/1
by Lisa McDavid

1 pm or so on the afternoon of Monday, July 29th, in a cafe near the
Royal Ontario Museum aka the ROM.


"No." Valery King's voice was perfectly level. Too level, in fact. "I
don't know what you really want this time, Lisa, but the answer's no."

Lisa tried to look puzzled. "What I really want? I just happened to be
in Toronto, so I looked in on you. Aren't you enjoying your exchange
at the ROM library?"

Valery picked up her knife and fork as if they were weapons. "I was
enjoying it. Until the desk called to tell me my sister Lisa McDavid
was downstairs to see me." She stabbed her salad. "I should have told
them I don't have a sister named Lisa."

"You didn't dare, " said Lisa as she spread ketchup on her French
Fries.

Valery took a sip from her wine glass. "Of course not. You're like my
favorite line in Wodehouse, Lisa -- 'a cross between a ticking bomb
and a poltergeist.'"

"Thank you!" Lisa was obviously pleased. She drank a mouthful of her
Zombie Beachcomber. "Look, Valery, it's for Nick."

"Nick? I might have known. How long has the war been going on this
time? And I suppose you're back to spying undercover in the Cousins
for him?"  Valery began to eat her salad.

"Only a few days but no, I'm not really spying. It's just that I came
across something while I was running computer searches on Toronto
libraries."

Poor Valery was finishing her second glass of wine by the time Lisa
had explained everything. "And you think this brick might be Nick's
book in disguise? I thought you said Lacroix wasn't letting you
drink."

"He thinks he is." Lisa's grin was evil. "Anyway, Will hacked into the
ROM's computer accessions files for me because I had this hunch, and
there it was." She retrieved a folded printout from her purse and
spread it on the table.

"19960306713. Yellow clay brick, 22.3 cm height., 9.6 cm. width,
approximately 10 cm. at thickest point. Said to come from E. Punjab,
India, exact findspot unknown. ca. 3rd century b.c.e. Inscribed in
Sanskrit with fragment of an unknown text concerning vampires." Valery
sat up sharply and read the next line aloud. "Gift of Lucien Lacroix
in memory of Nicholas Knight."

"Exactly," said Lisa. "I don't know what's up but I do know this. It's
fishy. India. 3rd century B.C., with Sanskrit inscription. It has to
be something to do with the Abarat. Which means Nick should have it."

"I suppose I couldn't persuade you to just give the Knighties the the
printout?" Valery motioned for the checks.

"Of course not." Lisa smiled at the waiter and took both bills. "This
is too important to risk anything but the brick itself. Now, this is
what I want you to do..."


And that is how, about an hour later, Lisa said goodbye to her
"sister" in the ROM library and got carefully lost on the way out.
When she left, her lock picks were once again safely disguised as a
nailcare kit, and the bottom of her handbag was weighted down with the
brick.

All in all, as she secreted her prize somewhere in Toronto, she was
quite pleased with herself. She went straight to the nearest bar and
had a Zombie Beachcomber to celebrate.


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


The Great Knightie-Napp Caper (01/03)
By: Denise Underwood w/input from April Ruskin & Shirl Cline
Time: Monday, July 29. 1pm


Denise and April re-entered CERK HQ  brown book in hand. Denise
noticed Cousin Shirl waving frantically at them.

"What is it Shirl?" She asked, wondering what had gotten Shirl so
agitated.

"LaCroix wants to see you , now." Shirl nervously looked over her
shoulder at the office door.

"What does he want with us now?" April wondered.

"No April, not the two of you,  just Denise. You are to take the book
to the situation room." Shirl informed them. "Something is up." She
whispered.

"Me?" Denise wondered what she had done now. she couldn't think of
anything. Maybe LaCroix was still upset over the AMEX card. She was
doomed, she knew she had gotten off to easily this morning. "It was
nice knowing you guys." Denise attempted flippantly. It came out more
as a croak.

Shirl and April hugged Denise  comfortingly.

"It'll be ok Denise," April said brightly, "He probably just wants to
tell you what a good job you did."

Shirl and April  watched as Denise entered the office alone.  April
pulled herself away to deliver the book as ordered. Twenty minutes
later she returned to find Dee had joined Shirl in the lobby. They
were still waiting for Denise to emerge.

"She still in there?" April asked worriedly.

"Uh huh" answered Dee

The three women waited,  hoping that their friend was all right. Dee
began to pace while April sang to herself. Shirl just stared at the
door. Fifteen minutes later Denise  emerged from the office. She was
very pale, even for her and she was holding a file folder. She
silently handed the folder to April as her friends rushed to her side.

April opened the folder to find a photo,  a list of instructions and
a map. April quickly read the  contents of the folder. "This is our
next assignment?"

Denise nodded, still silent. She had a glazed look in her eyes.

Dee said in concern "She looks like she's been whammied."

"She's a resistor." April protested.

"You know the General has ways around that April." Shirl reminded her.

"But why?" April wondered. "Hey, maybe he gave her some secret
information she won't remember, or won't be able to tell till the
right time"

"Can they do that?" Shirl asked.

The three women shrugged. April leaned closer to Denise, reaching for
the collar of her blouse.

"April, what the hell are you doing?" Dee exclaimed, grabbing April's
hand.

"I was just checking!" April said defensively.

"You're being silly. Letting your imagination run away from you!" Dee
told April disgustidly.

April grumbled under her breath, shooting her other evil twin a dirty
look. "Not like you haven't thought the same thing! Lets get her some
air." April  suggested "Then maybe she can tell us what happened."

"I sure hope so." Shirl and Dee said in unison.

The three women led the still silent Denise out of the lobby.


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


Shopping?  How bout chocolate instead?
by: Cousin Candice
time: Sunday  7/29 2:30pm
        After WAR: For Your Viewing Pleasure...2/2

The meeting with Will and Cherri made Candice's day even better.  So
what if she hardly knew any of the "new recruits."  She still had her
old amies.  But it bothered her that so many strangers surrounded
her....

She tooled over to Queen street, Gavin Friday screaming from the
speakers) to treat herself to some seriously fabulous clothing.  She
picked up a gray Chanel knock-off suit for the exhibit at the ROM on
Monday and some shoes to go with it.

The next store she passed didn't really have anything to offer her,
loud neon tight-fitting clothing never was Candice's style.  The mere
thought of it made her think of the 70's and she cringed.

Funny how shopping never was much fun when you were alone.

Candice found herself heading east down Queen street towards the
fabric district.  Two more blocks and Madame Strang's House of Ill
Repute was looming in front of her.  But she didn't feel like going
in.  Strange.  She was stood at the window of Siren, one of her
favorite Goth Apparel stores of all time.

"Well, maybe *one* pair of knee-high boots..." she muttered, entering
the store. The salesgoth (a victim of Manic Panic if ever Candice had
laid eyes on one) stared at her.  She ignored him -//..service with a
stare instead of a smile, eh?..//, her thoughts not exactly perky and
bright.  She walked into the back room (the salesgoth following
dutifully) and passed her eyes over a dull pair of black leather
boots, going straight for the patent-leather instead. Shine was always
more fun in dark places.

"I want those," Candice pointed to the boots.

"Your size?" said quietly.

"Seven and a half to eight.  How do they run?"

"Large," he looked down at her current boots, "I'll get you the seven
and a half."

They went to the counter and Candice leaned over the glass admiring
the jewelery.

"You know, that one would look lovely on you."  The salesgoth pulled
out what could have passed for a rosary with Mary in the hang-piece.
In reality, it was an elongated pentagram in an oblong shape -an
amusing mimicry of religious affectation. Candice studied it for a
long while and help it up to the light.

"I'll take it."

Maybe LaCroix would approve...

"Hey, I heard a rumor that the Raven is reopening -is it true?"

Saddened at the mention of the defunct club and the reason for it's
demise, Candice sighed.

"It must be just a rumor.  The first owner is dead as far as I know,
and the second owner..well, he...he's otherwise occupied."

"Well if you run by there, do you think you could let me know if it's
true?"

"Sure."

Head drooped, she walked back out onto the street, her day definitely
gloomier than before.

As if drawn by some distant past, Candice meandered in the direction
of Darkangel's Dangerous Liasons with her other purchases.  The sight
of the store, filled with all things exotic and leather made her long
for the last time she had laid eyes upon the place, during the last
War when she had seen Steff, James, and Jen Lackey all together.

Nevermind the private tortures she had endured, Candice flat-out
missed them! (Note: see WAR IV: Story of C parts 1 & 2 if you missed
them <g>)

She stepped inside hoping maybe Steff would actually be in the store
itself, but her hopes were dashed.  Candice fingered some of the
leather hanging from the walls, but was totally not into it.  She
turned out of the store, found the lot where she had parked and turned
the music up a few decibels.

                "It's you...me....and World War Three.
                You and me, me and you, we hurt
                each ooOother cause we gotta get
                through...."

It came to her.

Chocolate.  That's what she needed to rise above her miserable state.

Pure indulgence.


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


I Had A Dream
by Scottie
sss44@aol.com

7-29, 3 p.m., at Nick's loft

"NO! NO!" Scottie screamed. "STOP IT! DON'T!"

Perri set down her mid-afternoon bowl of popcorn and ran to wake the
sleeping Knightie. "Wake up! You're having a dream! It's just a dream-
-it's okay now."

Scottie sat up, thrashing her way out of the sleeping bag. "I *hate*
these things. I'm never getting in one of them again. I feel like a
Pekingese wrapped in a down comforter at high noon in Texas in the
middle of August." She kicked the bag away and sat on the bare floor.

"I guess you need a lot of sleep when you're ol--middl-mature."

Scottie rubbed her eyes, sighed, and reached for her glasses. Once she
could actually see Perri, she said, "Uh huh, and why did I need a nap?
Because *you* made me get up at 5 a.m. and play dress-up in cop
clothes, after a whole 3 hours of sleep, that's why. So why'd you wake
me up?"

"You were screaming. You must have been having a nightmare. Or a
knightmare, as the case may be," Perri chortled.

"You're entirely too cheerful, you know that, don't you? Geez, I hate
cheerful people," Scottie said, "even more than I hate perky people.
And I don't like perky people at all."

"Okay, so you hate me. You'll get over it when you've had a cigarette
and a Diet Coke," Perri offered hopefully.

"*Several* cigarettes, and at least two Diet Cokes," Scottie
responded, then felt guilty, as only a Knightie can.  "I'm sorry I'm
in such a bad mood. I hate being hot. I swear I'm moving to Alaska
some day."

"You wouldn't like the mosquitoes. They're even bigger and meaner
there than they are in Texas."

"Not possible." Scottie staggered to the fridge for her low-sodium,
almost-no-calorie fix. "Damn, isn't the power on yet?"

Perri opened the lid of the ice chest and took out a can of Diet Coke.
"Power's on. The fridge just hasn't had time to cool off. Give it
time."

Scottie took the proffered nectar and reached for her cigarette case.
"Thanks. I'm just having a nicfit. Or a Nickfit, whichever the case
may be." She looked around the almost empty loft. "Where is
everybody?"

"Some of them are out sightseeing; some are still on search missions;
and one group is out  shopping for something to wear for the
exhibition. Are you okay now?" Perri asked.

"I'm okay. Just hot. Could we go up on the roof? Maybe there's a
breeze up there."

"Can do," Perri grinned and proceeded up the stairs to punch in the
code on the access door. Seconds later they were on the roof,
overlooking the lovely warehouse section of Toronto.

"Can you believe people think it's miserably hot here in the summer?
When I left home it was 104 and 92 percent humidity." Scottie lit a
cigarette, took a long drag, and blew smoke into the wind. "It's nice
up here."

"It is. So what was the dream about?" Perri asked.

"Nick. And the brown book. Brown *books*, actually. I dreamed there
were thousands of them, stashed all over town, and we kept finding
them, and they were all fakes. All of them, but we had to read them
all to find out if they were the real thing. And they had the most
horrible things written in them. Like what the Natpack wants to do to
Nick if he ever shows up again." She shuddered. "And then in the dream
all those brown books were piled up into a huge mountain, and I was
sitting on a wobbly chair on top of it, and I had long white hair and
was about 120 years old, and wrinkled as a sun-dried tomato. And
people were bowing down and calling me "KnightElder" and I was afraid
the chair was going to fall over and I'd break all the major bones,
since I was ancient and fragile and probably had a furious case of
osteoporosis. And I was asking them, in this whispery old voice, to
stop and get me off the pile, but they all just laughed, and said "Let
*Nick* save you, if he can!"

"So it was a Natpack nightmare. They happen, and usually when you're
most vulnerable," Perri frowned.

"Do you think they'll even let him explain what happened before they
start throwing things at him?" Scottie asked, putting out one
cigarette and lighting another.

"Not if the Natpack has anything to say about it," Perri admitted.
"And I want to hear both sides of the story before we start making
accusations and assigning punishments. Explanations. I want
explanations. In the worst way."

"Think we'll ever get them?" Scottie asked.

"I hope so. I truly do."


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


A Farce In Three Acts.
By Gehirn Karies (Cerk Jerk)
and Leslie Grant Smith (LoosCanN@aol.com)
Time line: Weds July 31st Shortly after 3:00 P.M.
(After Some Cousins Come Calling and VAQ: Church of the
Subgeniuses and VAQ: A little Gift for Us)
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
YET ANOTHER ACQUISITION

"Let's do it while they're busy with that RDM delivery person.  Our
distraction will just be added payoff when it arrives."

"Okay, I'll dump the industrial waste in the chicken coop."

"Leslie, it's a goose gate."

"Whatever.  The minute they start chowing down on these Cheetos you
better scurry."

"Check."

"Check what?"

"Check check.  Let's do it."

"You're driving me nuts."

"Shut up."

"I'm in," Karies said throwing open the door to the garage behind the
church.  "Whoa, it's a big un all right, a regular beast.  I told you
no self-respecting biker wannabe would take the key out of his bike in
his own garage, it just don't happen."

"Just shut up and get it going."

"You plant the evidence?"

"Yeah."

"Well, get on then."  The two Cousins burst out of Vachon's garage
onto the side street, before the Vaqs, who were buzzing on chocolate
and ogling the sudden appearance of a half dozen stunningly handsome
young men, could react.  A button on a boom box had been pushed, and
gyrating, long curly hair flowing gracefully, these young men were
divesting themselves of their black jeans and engineer boots.  They
were fairly quickly down to g-strings and the guitars which adorned
their backs, the straps cutting elegantly across their chests.

The two Cousins riding Vachon's bike took the corner quickly enough to
be only a blur.

The Vaqs caught on the moment they heard the rumbling of the bike and
ran over to the garage.  They immediately spotted the dropped bag of
french fries and extra ketchup.  They looked knowingly at each other,
nodding.

"How did you pay for all those strippers, Dude?" Leslie asked as she
straddled Nick's bike, kicking it awake.

Karies held up a brand new Platinum card.  "Leave it to the Knighties
to be too honest and trustworthy to swipe their Lord's new charge card
from the mail pile."

"But it's not activated."

"Right, which means the old one expires the end of this month.  I just
gave that expiration date over the phone and the charge went through."

"We should do something thoughtful for the Nat and Nick Pickers too,
Karies."

"Leslie, you are truly an inspiration.  But first we gotta get these
bikes to where the Knighties, Vaqs and Cops won't tread.  Follow me."

A DAY SPENT WITH OLD FRIENDS

"This a leather bar, Dude?"

"Not really, it's a Hell's Angels club."

"You're sure the bikes are safe parked in the middle of all these...
hogs?"

"Yeah, long as we book it a good hour before sundown.  The Spanish
Stallion won't be afraid of a few dozen Hells Angels."

"Who won't be afraid of a few dozen Hells Angels?" asked a scary
looking guy looming at the door.  Tall, sturdily built, his thick
brown hair and beard grizzled with gray, he grinned toothily at the
two women.

"Pat!"  Leslie beamed.  The scary Biker hugged her like a bear.
Another man slid gracefully from behind him, staying well away from
the light.  The vampire looked like he'd be more at home at a Polo
Club than a Biker Bar.  "Thomas?" Leslie asked.  "What are you doing
here?"

"I never miss a good treasure hunt," Thomas replied suavely.

"No, I mean, what are you two doing *here*?"

"The rental got a flat," Pat chipped in.  "It was almost sunup, so we
ducked in here."

"I *mean* I thought you were in Alaska, Pat," Leslie said through
gritted teeth.  Sometimes she wondered how their friendship of 17
years had lasted through his aggravating love of word games.

"Ah, that would be my doing," Thomas interjected.  "Realizing
something interesting was afoot and as my dear old friend Lucien was
not forthcoming, I called on one of my mortal allies, young McLaughlin
here."

"You mean your *only* mortal ally," Karies pointed out, smirking.

"Yes, well, the Twin fac-- affiliation may be small, but quality
before quantity, I always say," Thomas replied coolly, letting his
eyes travel up and down to two scruffy, wind-disheveled women.

Not wanting Karies to aggravate either an old friend or an old
vampire, Leslie stood heavily on the other woman's foot, smiling
sweetly.

"Pat, can I buy you a beer?"

Pat, never loath to accept a free beer, provided, of course, that it
was a *good* free beer, slid up to the bar.  Karies, studying Thomas
under lowered brows, ordered a double shot Kamikaze.  The vampire
pulled out a silver flask, containing, no doubt, his favorite
beverage.  Leslie and Pat got lost in a conversation to do with
`hoppiness' and `nose', completely tedious to non-brewers, while
Thomas endured Karies' increasingly evil glare.

"You know," she finally drawled, voice well lubricated by a few
Kamikazes, "that was a real scummy thing you did to Nick, chomping his
good buddy like that."

"Ah, yes.  Our little adventure in the Sudan.  It was excruciatingly
amusing.  He's not as easily led by the nose as his reputation would
have, you know.  Conveying the proper sincerity was no easy task."

"Yeah, right.  He's a puppy, and you kicked him."

"Karies," Leslie warned, alarmed by the vehemence in the woman's tone,
"he's a v-a-m-p-i-r-e.  Chill or it's `slurp'."

"No, no, he likes the intellectual variety, don't you Thomas?" she
insisted, hissing his name.  Thomas glared.  "As I was saying, I don't
like people who kick puppies, so I certainly don't like *you*."

Leslie, with a wincing smile, edged between the two near-combatants.
Pat came around and laid a light hand on Thomas's shoulder.  The
vampire shrugged the restraint off and replied with a tight smile,
"Yes, well, fortunately, any concern I had for my popularity died a
long, long time ago.  Patrick, I'm going to go take a nap in that back
booth.  See to it that I am undisturbed."  He slid gracefully off his
barstool and proceeded to the back of the bar.

"Yes, Thomas," Pat replied with some relief.  Karies began to rise,
fire still in her eye, but Leslie grabbed her newly tattooed arm and
gave it a light squeeze.

"Ow, Leslie," she snapped, balling her fists.

Leslie let go.  "Just trying to shake your focus, Dude.  You have that
fixed look in your eye.  Leave it.  I don't wanna spend my time
scraping your jellied body off the wall, okay?"

"I'm chillin'," Karies muttered, with one last evil glare toward the
dark corner of the bar.

"Here, let me and Pat show you something we learned how to do with
tequila back in college."

"Ah," Karies sighed, "the wonders of higher education."  And she let
herself be jollied up to the bar.

HOME AGAIN, HOME AGAIN, JIGGITY-JIG

The Cousins came out of the bar and mounted the bikes, not quite
staggering and having managed to avoid mentioning anything of little
brown books.  They rode off towards CERK, where they could surely get
inspiration from their fearless leaders as what to do next with the
bikes.

Coming around the corner just about sundown the riders veered out of
the way of a vanload of Cousins hogging the road.  The bikes and
riders slid noisily across the sidewalk, clattering to a stop just
before hitting the building.

The women laughed hysterically through their noses, drunk and
undamaged.  They sat up, leaning on Nick's bike, enjoying their own
folly.  Their inane chortling ceased abruptly with the appearance of
LaCroix.

"What have you done?" he grated through clenched teeth.  A recent
phone call from his old "friend" Thomas extolling the advantages of
quality over quantity had done nothing to sweeten his temper.

The two women gazed at him admiringly a moment, as always his simple
presence filling them with delighted awe.  "Dduuuuuuuudddde!!!!" the
women responded simultaneously.

"We ... found these unattended," Karies went on with as much of a
straight face as she could muster.

"Did I ask you to FIND them?" LaCroix hissed.

"Uh ... Gen'ral, you're looming."  The women snickered hysterically,
any hope of common sense lost in the haze of tequila and beer.

"Get rid of them!  I don't want them here.  Give me the book. You're
obviously in no shape to do what I need you to do now."

"Sure I spam," Karies protested, handing over the book.  "A triple
expresso cafe latte, and I'm the forging queen."

"SSSSSSSST.  Silence! Get rid of those, then report back."

"Yes Sir, General Lusci- Lucius," Leslie responded to his back. They
fell over laughing as he stormed off, visions of popping the skulls of
certain inebriated fools dancing before his mind's eye. His wrath was
soothed only by the recollection of the utter admiration contained in
their near croon of the vulgar epithet, `Dude.'  He was reminded
forcefully of certain barbarians that had made outstanding soldiers
once the rough edges had been knocked off. As in those days, one had
to work with the material available.

"Karies," Leslie declared, wiping her tearing eyes on her sleeve,
"that was scarier than I really like."

"Scary?  You were laughing like a loon."

"I always do that when I'm scared or in pain, you know that.  Well,
now what?  You got us into this."

"Let's get Julie, her friends have a house outside of town."

"Watson and Devo?"

"Those are her dogs, Dude.  You are too blonde."

"Uh, speaking of dogs, and not delving too deeply into who is spacier
than whom, don't you need to feed your cats?"

"Oh, frolic, you're right.  Oh, man, Spot has probably shredded the
curtains by now."

Actually much more sober than before their encounter with LaCroix,
they solemnly righted the bikes and sedately made their way to Karies'
motel room.  They parked the bikes outside, looked at one another,
shrugged.  Karies unlocked the door, pushed it open and they wheeled
the vehicles into the room.

Fin.


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


Homework (1/1)
by K. S. Gritten
Time:  Monday, July 29, about 5 pm
Place:  NatPack hostel


"This is just great," Jaime sighed. "Maureen and Jamie gone, right out
from under our noses." She took another handful of munchies from one
of the bowls that Lynn had so thoughtfully placed around the house to
feed hungry NatPackers, and crunched noisily.

Kelly looked up from the counter, where she was mixing margaritas.
Even with Sharon's propensity for salt, there was no reason to save
*that* much of it (because those guys that they had "borrowed" it from
would never turn up again, right?), so she had put it to good use.
Dipping a finger into the concoction, she frowned for a second.
"Hmmm...it needs something different in the next batch." She poured a
few more drinks, then shouted through the doorway, "Leslie? How many
more do we need?"

"Um...twelve? three? forty-nine?" a tentative voice came back.

Shaking her head and muttering something about people who had
obviously had too many already, she handed a tray full of glasses to
Jaime to bring out into the other room.

"I don't know what we are going to do about Maureen and Jamie," she
continued, answering Jaime's earlier comment. "However, I've got to
get some work done tonight."

"What kind of work?" Eliz Palmer, who was lounging on the couch,
asked.

"Well, I've been working in the Medieval Studies department here at U
of T since..." a pained expression crossed her face, "the problems,
and as an independent study to fill my supporting coursework in art
history, I've been going to a number of art exhibitions."

Alora snickered. "Ah, the joys of academia, right?" She had been known
to harass Kelly about her dedication to the accumulation of school
loans.

Kelly handed her another drink and smiled. "You laugh now." Pulling an
envelope, slightly crumpled, from her back pocket, she waved it at
Alora and the others. "Here's my assignment for tonight.  My advisor
gave me his invite."

Alora grabbed the envelope and pulled the enclosure out. "The Museum
cordially invites you..." she read out-loud, then skimmed the rest.
"Treasures from the duchy of Brabant? Is that what I think it is?"

"Yep. Wanna come along?"


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


ROM-ing in the Gloaming
by Lisa McDavid

About 5 p.m. Monday through 9 p.m. same day

Lisa McDavid was humming to herself as she got off the elevator at
Cousin Headquarters on the upper floors of CERK. At least, she was
humming until she pulled up with a stifled "Awk!"

"I thought so," said Lacroix, barring her way. "Wouldn't the elephant
fit through the door?"

She frowned up at him. "Elephant? Crossy, have you been drinking?"

The vampire's expression might have been a scowl or it might have been
an ultra-wry smile. He nodded. "The pink elephant. Or do you favor
green snakes?"

"Purple rhinoceri, actually. Look, what's this all about?" Lisa tried
to step around him and was almost casually pinned to the wall.

"It's about your plans for the evening. They've changed. Go eat
something and then put this on." He picked up a dress box from the
table behind him. "By six-forty-five. You're coming with me to the
opening of the Brabant Exhibition at the ROM."

Lisa blinked at him, a la Vachon. "Why?"

"Because I'm not letting you out of my sight until you sober up." He
let her go. "Now get on with it."

By six-forty-five precisely, she was seated beside Lacroix in the Jag,
with one of the Cousins chauffering.

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

Lisa looked around the ROM atrium. Lacroix had forbidden her to bring
any money or credit cards, which meant she had to avoid the gift shop.
Oh, well, it had been worth it just to see the look on the door
guard's face when he charged out to protest the presence of the Jag on
the sidewalk up against the steps to the museum, and encountered
Lacroix in full mind-bending mode. He'd even held the umbrella over
the vampire and agreed that the fine, clear sky was in fact nasty with
rain.

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

Lisa was smiling to herself at the "Adam" on the ducal altarpiece.
Northern European nudes always looked faintly embarrassed. In Nick's
case, rather more than faintly. Oh, well, assuming the painter had had
the usual Northern passion for accuracy, at least the Knighties could
stop arguing about stunt chests. The Knighties could stop arguing
about nearly everything but what on earth was holding that fig leaf in
place.

Time to get some more cheese. The red wine was quite good, but the
cheese selection was delicious. Lisa loved cheese almost as much as
chocolate. She moved through the crowd, pausing only to admire yet
again the portrait of Lacroix with white, spiked hair. She'd always
always liked it better that way.

She speculated briefly as to how much chocolate or anything else would
be required to hire a merc to steal it for her. She did have access to
Lacroix's funds, after all. Damn! She was getting drunk on this wine.
She'd see if the bartender could make a decent Zombie Beachcomber.
That'd get her thinking clearly again.

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

"My daughter used to like Zombie Beachcombers," said a meditative
voice beside Lisa as she waited for the bartender to mix her favorite.
The speaker was a large, beefy man who wore a Fraternal Order of
Police Lapel Pin. He smiled sadly. "You wouldn't happen to be a Tri-
Alpha, would you?"

Lisa's brain kicked into overdrive. The ROM Board of Trustees had been
listed on the back of the invitation. The Honorable Richard Vetter --
there couldn't be two of them in Toronto.

"No, my undergraduate school didn't have sororities," said Lisa. Her
drink arrived; the first swig kicked her mind into overdrive. "But I
think I met your daughter once. Tracy Vetter?"

"Tracy," agreed the Commissioner. He finished his Martini and motioned
to the barman. "I'll have a Zombie Beachcomber myself. I need it. I.A.
finally released Tracy's things from her desk."

"It was a terrible tragedy," Lisa said. Vetter was mourning a plaster
image rather than the woman his daughter had really been, but it was
no use trying to make him see that. "They never found her partner,
either, did they?"

Vetter gulped half his drink. "No, and he didn't have a next of kin. I
don't know who to give the book to."

"Book?" Lisa's mother had tried to raise a Southern Lady, but it
mostly hadn't taken. One of the few things that had stuck was how to
sound casually interested while listening with the intensity of the
KGB.

"Yeah," said the Commissioner, finishing his glass. "Bartender, I'll
have a refill. It was in with the stuff in Tracy's desk drawers." He
produced a small, brown leather notebook with the intials N.K. on the
cover in gold from his breast pocket.

Lisa put her Zombie Beachcomber down on the counter. "May I see it? I
used to be a rare book librarian."

Vetter nodded toward the bartender. "Give the lady another, too. But
it's just a notebook."

"The binding's 17th century Spanish," improvised Lisa, "and these look
like Mayan glyphs to me. It could be very important."

She started on her third Zombie Beachcomber. That notebook was not
going home with Commissioner Vetter, not if she had to call the mercs
and get him mugged. The Southern lady mode kicked in.  Within ten
minutes she had accepted an invitation to dinner, introduced the
Commissioner to her Uncle (Lacroix's eyebrows arched nearly up to his
hairline at that) so that arrangments could be made for her to be
returned to CERK later, and gone into the Ladies' Room.

There Lisa stabbed the Mercs' number into her cell phone and spoke
briefly to Abby. "Ok, that's fine. Just have them outside Azure in a
couple of hours."'

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

To be continued in "Out of Commission."


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


Things Are Busting Out All Over
Part One of Dawn's and Lizbet's nefarious scheme
Monday, July 9th
Afternoon, after Marian's Trial
Merc Central
By L. Dawn Steele and Elizabeth Ann Lewis

Lizbet was pacing across the basement floor. Back and forth, back and
forth, back and forth...

"Will you <please> be still for a moment? I'm trying to concentrate
here!" Dawn said. She was sitting down at a table in the disguise
room. There was a sink nearby which she had partially filled, and kept
dipping her hands into to keep the unfinished clay wet.

Dressed in an old white t-shirt, cutoffs and with her hair pulled back
in a long ponytail, Dawn looked like a refugee from the seventies.
That was being generous of course. What she really looked like was
someone who had been involved in a mud fight. Smears of gray clay
trailed along her legs, arms and across her face.

Dawn's eyes held a fierce glint of determination. New to the Mercenary
affiliation, this was one of her first jobs, and she was determined to
do it right.

"When is it going to be finished?" Lizbet walked over to the door and
peered outside nervously. She rubbed her damp palms on her black
jeans.  "I can't stay here forever, Sara will be sure to find me!"

"Relax." Dawn absently wiped her hands off onto her cutoffs, and
picked up one of the metal picks for the finer details. "I'm sure
you'll have the rent fees in hand by the time she tracks you down."

Lizbet wasn't listening. At the moment, she was searching the ceiling
for tell-tale marks. "Do you think she has hidden cameras in the
basement?"

Dawn sighed and tried to ignore her. This sculpture was turning out to
be harder than she'd anticipated -- she was earning her fee in this
job. Another half hour to get the smaller details right, and then a
plastic mold would be made just to be on the safe side, and then...
straight to the kiln!

*** six hours later ***

(note: the laws of pottery, and physics have been temporarily modified
in order for the story to flow better.)

Dawn put down the fine drill, and turned to Lizbet. "There -- it's all
ready for the final touches."

Lizbet was rubbing her hands in (all right, so it's a cliche - so
what?) pure <glee>. "It looks good! Really good!" All traces of her
earlier nervousness were gone, lost in thoughts of the coming evening.
"Why don't you get dressed for tonight and get a bit to eat. I'll
'finish' up."

"Sure," Dawn said.  She stood up, stretching out kinks.  "I need a
break!"

As soon as Dawn left, Lizbet got the materials she needed and set to
work transforming the bust from merely being embarrassing to making it
an absolute picture of humiliation.  Grinning wickedly, she covered
her efforts in a layer of flat white spray paint.

Crossing to the phone, she picked it up and dialed her employer.
"Mel? Hi!  Having fun yet?  Is Laura there?  Can I talk to her?
Laura!  The bust is completed, and will be 'delivered' just before
dawn.  Yes, I did everything you told me.  Are you sure you don't want
the real one?  Fine, fine, I have plans for it.  Yes, I'll pick up the
pictures you promised me tomorrow.  You're welcome, but pulling off
this kind of thing is what I do. Oh, another job?  Sure, we'll discuss
it tomorrow.  See you later!"

Lizbet hung up the phone and checked her watch.  She carefully carried
the bust up to her room and hid it, giving the paint time to dry.  She
was unable to hide her smug grin.  This was going to be *good*!


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


Schemes, Pt 1/2: The Smile Sinister
Location: The Old Church
Time: Late-afternoon, Monday, July 29th, around 5 pm
by Sherri Campbell, with input from Apache

Sherri sat quietly working in a small room that used to be a church
office. There were bits of cotton sticking out of her ears, as she was
trying to block out the sound of honking geese outside.  She had fixed
a plank over two dusty chairs for a desk, as Vachon's furniture scheme
didn't run to office furniture.

She flipped through the mound of receipts that they had piled up since
Saturday.  "Who would have thought that goose food was so expensive?!
And that plane!" she muttered. Adding the column of figures once
again, checking all the cash receipts again, she came up with a
dismaying total. Shaking her head, she looked again. "Darn. I don't
care what Apache says, her Gold Card just isn't going to take much
more!  We need an alternative source of funds!"

Pulling the cotton from her ears, she winced at the continuous
honking. Standing up, she walked into the nave of the church reviewing
the page of figures as she moved. Looking up from her ledger sheet,
she dodged the various impediments to walking (shoes, bags, people,
electronic gear...) and searched the area for Torrey.  Spotting her in
a far corner talking to Apache, Sherri walked over to their fearless
leader.

"Torrey? I think we have a problem," Sherri spoke quietly, so as to
not attract any attention.

Torrey turned to the wall and leaned her forehead on it. Her voice was
quite muffled as she replied, "What now? I can't take much more, you
know."

Sighing, Sherri responded. "Look, despite Apache's generosity with her
Gold Card, it won't last forever... if it runs dry before we get a
plane south, we'll be stuck up here.  We need other funding."

Apache looked up, a gleam in her eye. "Other funding? What have you in
mind?" Torrey turned to face Sherri, waiting for the answer.

Gulping at being the object of two intense set of eyes, Sherri
responded. "I... I'm not really sure.  We need to do something to
bring money in... not let it go out!"

Torrey looked at Sherri, then at Apache. "Any ideas?"

With a sigh, Sherri spoke up. "Well... I *have* ruled out a few ideas.
No bank robbery, no liquor stores... Bonnie's doing a good job singing
at The Raven, pulling in money there, however, none of the rest of us
could hold a tune in a airtight bucket...  the only thing I can think
of..." she paused, looking at the other two. \Oh, boy.. this *isn't
going to work...\ "...is <kidnapping>" The last was said so quietly
that she was barely heard.

Torrey squeaked. "What!???????"  Apache sat there with a very still
face.

Sherri watched their faces, waiting. \I'd sure hate to play poker with
Apache! That's a sure-fire poker face if I ever saw one!!\

Apache finally drew breath, and frowning, spoke. "You know, as an
officer of the court, I should mention to you that kidnapping is
illegal; on the other hand, I'm only an officer of *American*
courts... and this is Canada. However, this *is* war... and... what
sort of criteria are you using for your victim?"

Sherri frowned. "Hmm. Well, it would have to be someone who is
valuable, and is wanted by their affiliation.  We need as much ransom
as we can get!"

Torrey leaned forward. "Valuable? Wanted? Who do you have in mind?"

Apache smiled sinisterly. "I know. I know exactly who to get.  How
about ..."


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


A Pair of Knighties do the Town part 2a
Time: various times Monday 7/29
By: Robbi Egersdorf and Nancy Taylor


Time:  Later that night after the shopping trip around 5:30ish
 Where: Nick's loft

After getting their purchases at Hazelton Lanes shopping mall and
finishing with Marg's hairdresser, Michael at Styling, the two
Knighties return to home base.

"You both look great!"  Was among the compliments that Robbi and Nancy
received as they descended the stairs in their finery financed by
Nick, of course.  The electricity and water had been turned on earlier
that day to everyone's relief.  Making those potty runs was getting to
be a real hassle.

Robbi reached out and grabbed Nancy just before she tumbled end over
teakettle down the steps.

"Get out there and do the Knighties proud."  Marg Yamanaka came
forward from the crowd.  "I was asked if I would give you directions
to the museum.  It wouldn't do to have you two lost in Toronto and
miss all the fun.  Who will be driving?"

Nancy held up the caddy keys with a sheepish grin as Robbi realized
that she had left them in her jeans while she showered.  Robbi scowled
back at Nancy.

"The museum is at 100 Queens Park Crescent. At the corner of Bloor and
Queen's Park Cresc. To get from here to the ROM, turn right onto
Broadview, as you leave the building. Another fast right onto Eastern
Ave over the Don river, take the right-hand split onto Richmond St.
Carry on on Richmond until you get to University Ave. North on
University around the Provincial Legislature building( road is renamed
to Queens Park Cres here) . Museum is on your left side of the street
as you come round the Legislature.  You got that good enough or should
I write it down."

"No, that won't be necessary.  I could find that blindfolded."

Marg gave her a concerned look.  "Now don't go showing off."

Cath approached the trio.  "Last minute instructions.  Keep  your eyes
open for other factions.  We have a limited number of pictures here of
some of the older members."  She handed a photo album to Robbi, who
started to thumb through it.  "It may not be very helpful as there are
a lot of members that none of us have seen.  If you see anyone from
the NatPack, you are to try and get any info you can about Natalie.
Don't look suspicious, just act casual or you might make them
nervous."

"We can do that, act casual,"  Nancy elbowed Robbi who still had her
nose in the album.

"What."  She looked up, "Yeah, don't look suspicious.  I couldn't look
suspicious if I wanted to."  She went back to trying to memorize the
faces in the book.

Perri joined the group.  "If you see the 'you know what' be prepared
to bring us back intimate details, I want details."

Nancy held up her camera.  "I plan on it."

"Perfect.  Now do you all have your notes so you can sound like you
know something about our favorite vamp's country of origin."  Cath
questions them.

The two held up their papers with the wonderful notes they had
received from Amy Rambow when they contacted her.  In them were
detailed description of nearly all the painting and artifacts that had
been announced as being there plus a few more she had guessed might be
there.

"Oh, I almost forgot."  Cath reached in her pocket and pulled out
Nick's cellular phone and handed it to Robbi.  "Just in case you get
in a bind." I've had the service reconnected and it's been charging
all day.

She slipped it in her purse and zipped it up again.  "If that's
everything, we should be on our way.

The leaders watched as the sliding door of the elevator closed behind
them. Perri said, "Boy, are they green."

"Like we were green? They'll be okay, just like we were okay."  Her
co-leader finished for her.

Perri looked back at Cathy Boo, a concerned look in her eyes.  "I hope
you're right."

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

Where: in Nick's caddy, on the way to the museum
 Time:Getting close to 7 pm on Monday night

"Are you sure you know where we are going.  I don't think this is what
that nice gas station attendant meant when he said 'turn at the next
stoplight'." They had have been wandering around downtown Toronto for
the better part of an hour and had stopped for directions on three
seperate occasions.

"If you think you can do better, there you are."  Nancy pulled over to
the side of the street and hopped out of the driver's seat and walked
around.

Robbi, surprised at the the biting remark, hadn't seen her new friend
like this before.  She slide across and into the driving seat and
waited as her companion walked around and took the passenger side of
the car.  They sat there in silence for a few moments as Nancy worked
to control herself.

"I'm sorry, it's just that I absolutely *abhor* driving in strange
cities. I can take directions fairly well, but have a difficult time
maneuvering in heavy traffic.  I really *wanted* a chance to drive the
caddy, but It just made me a basket case in short order.  Forgive me."
She looked over at Robbi, who smiled  and reached over, putting an arm
on her shoulder.

"Don't worry about it.  This is something that I have had to do learn
how to do well.  I think I know just where we are and how to get where
we want to go before we are too late.  It's a good thing we left
early."  She threw the caddy into gear and made a u-turn, heading back
the way they had come.

"I hope that's not illegal."  Nancy commented, now calmer because
someone else was at the wheel.

end part 2a
--------------------


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


Dream A Little Dream Of Me.... (2/?)
By Diane Echelbarger
(Yes, I know 1/? hasn't dropped.  I'm working on it, OK?  And I don't
know how many I'll have time to write, which is why the ?)

Dedication:  This is for the FoDs, and the Cohenheads (all two of
you!) and everybody else who really, *really* loved second season.)

Toronto General Hospital ICU 7/29, Monday, 5:47pm

"There she goes again," the nurse who was going off-duty said.

"Huh?"  Her replacement followed her gaze and frowned slightly.  "I
thought that was Dr. Wetmore's coma?"

"It is," her friend replied.  "She's been slipping into REM cycles off
and on since they popped her in."

"Weird.  I'll make a note of it."  The second nurse reached for the
chart.  "Bye, Sue, have a good night."

"Bye." The first nurse picked up her sweater and left the monitoring
station.

<Flashback/dream, Fall, 1995>

He landed in the shadows of the "departures" area and straightened his
leather jacket before entering the airport.  His plane was due to
leave in an hour, and he was eager to get out of Toronto.  He'd heard
a rumor that the Inca was in town, and one confrontation a century
with his erstwhile "brother" was more than enough.

As he crossed the lobby, he was passed by a short Asian woman in a
business suit and an overweight, balding Caucasian man whose breath
reeked of garlic.  They were followed by two uniformed cops, escorting
a handcuffed prisoner between them.

When the police had disappeared, he approached the check-in counter.

"May I help you, sir?" the pretty woman asked.

"Ticket for J. D. Valdez?" he replied, and gave her his most charming
smile.

<end flashback/dream>

The monitors at the nursing station returned to normal.


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


LIKE A CHIPMUNK ON SPEED
by Spifff, unaffiliated.

Time: Monday 7/29 6:00 pm

<Oh shit, I can't find it, where is the tape. I can't believe this is
happening. The exhibit opens in an hour and they still don't have
everything installed.> Spifff's thoughts raced as she rummaged through
the jumble her Professor jokingly referred to as an office space.

<FOUND IT!>  Spifff sprinted for the elevators, her tux jacket flying
behind her.  <I'm not sure those free passes were worth this stress.>
"Just do a couple of hours of work before the Members' opening, hand
out some pamphlets and I'll get you exhibit passes, no problem!" her
Professor had said. Bastard. Sweat trickled down her neck and her
shirt stuck elegantly to her back. <I'm sure my fashion sense will
make a splash with the Raven/ettes. If not my smell sure will,> she
thought punchily.

On the ground floor she opened the magnetic door, waving at the camera
as she went, and passed into the museum proper. Museum members were
already filing into the atrium through the main doors, waiting for
access to the exhibit on the upper floor. Many looked to be
hemorraging money in the gift shop while they waited. Others were
standing on the steps outside having a quick smoke.

Several uniformed guards and Docent volunteers maintained crowd
control. Spifff waved at AJ, Lana and Sarah who were waiting in line.
Relief flooded her as she saw them. "Good, they made it. My directions
were sort of vague. Corner of Avenue and Bloor, Museum Subway stop. I
should have been more specific, but they did have a map." Sadly,
Spifff muttered. "Too bad Diane's not here. I hope I forwarded her
invitation to the right place. It would be a shame to waste it now
that she can't use it and I know someone else who would love to come."

Showing her pass card to the guard, Spifff began rapidly climbing the
escalators to the Exhibition Area on the third floor. <Stand right,
walk left, stand right, walk left.> The subway escalator mantra
repeated itself in her head. Daylight still shone through the
skylights overhead.

Turning right off the escalator, she collided with a guard and two
people moving the ice sculpture into position beside the champagne
fountain in the first exhibition room. In the dim light, cater-waiters
were fussing over the hors d'ouvres.

"Put the tzaziki in that dish" she heard someone say. Crates of
alcohol and more trays of food were being moved in through the
opposing entrance. Looked like the crew from the Happy Souvlaki were
doing their level best to get things ready on time.

"TAPE!!" came a scream from the far room.

"EEEK!" Spifff turned and ran at full tilt past the portraits hanging
in the long hall that formed the second exhibit room and into the
third chamber. Her redfaced Professor was standing there holding a
pressboard drawing of the floor plan of the Ducal household.

"Give me the tape. What took you so long? Where have you been? "
Spifff's Prof. peppered her with questions as he mounted the board on
the wall beside a large cross from a ducal chapel.

Panting, Spifff just sighed. It would be useless trying to explain
anything to him right now while the clock was ticking.

Glancing out the exit, she saw the line of museum patrons beginning to
form around the escalators. <Guards must have let them up,> she
thought. Looking down at her watch, Spifff wondered if the exhibit
would open on time.


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


A Pair of Knighties do the Town part 2b
Time: various times Monday 7/29
By: Robbi Egersdorf and Nancy Taylor with input from Amy Rambow and
Kelly Gritten


Where: The Museum
 Time: Not long after 7pm directly after Like a Chipmunk on Speed

They parked and locked the caddy and had to walk several blocks.  It
seems that there had been quite a few arrive before them and that was
the closest they could get to the museum.  There were still people
milling around the steps, smoking when they entered the front door.

"We can't be too late."  Nancy commented as they passed the cameras
and the magnetic doors.  "Did we remember our tickets?"

Robbi reached into her purse and produced the passes.  "Tah-dah."

"Whew, it's sure been an ordeal getting here.  I hope I can do this,
not knowing much about art and all."

Robbi pulled out her notes, courtesy of Amy.  "That's what these are
for. Now let's go.  You really don't have to be an expert to enjoy
art."

Nancy had her trusty Canon camera with the 30-200 zoom lens
confiscated at the door.  Apparently it's against the rules to tak    
ibition was displayed in three rooms.  Turning right off the escalator
they were faced with the champagne fountain.  Nancy headed to the
refreshments and Robbi grabbed her. "Remember why we are here?
There's plenty of time for that."

"Okay.  Did I tell you that I don't usually drink.  I bet they have
some expensive stuff for this."

"All the more reason for us to avoid it.  I don't usually drink either
and I've never had champagne.  Now, while we're here we can do some
snooping around and see if we can find that book.  Who knows, it just
might be here. Nick was a dues-paying member of the ROM, after all."
Robbi headed towards the exhibits and Nancy looked back to the
champagne. "Nancy."

"All right.  I'm coming."  Nancy dashed over and grabbed a flute.  She
filled it in the fountain and quickly followed Robbi.  "Slow down.  I
don't have much experience walking in these things."   Just then she
faltered and almost spilled some champagne on her new dress.

Robbi had stopped to admire the Brabant family crest.  It was a
shield, quartered, with the first and third red with white/silver
crescents, and the second and fourth white/silver.  There was an
animal in the center, in black, a lion reared on its back legs with
its tongue extended.

"I always thought how Nick looked like a proud lion when his hair is
mussy. Amy says he reminds her of a kitten when he grins.  I never
noticed."

Nancy had caught up with her partner by that time and was giggling at
the last remark.  Robbi turned to see her with a half a glass of
champagne in her hand.  Nancy caught her expression.  "This is real
good stuff.  You should try it.  I bet you'll like it.

Robbi turned back to the crest that hung on the wall and leaned across
the rope sectioning it off to see if she could see anything behind it.
She turned to see a guard watching her closely.  Robbi smiled at him,
then backed away.  "This isn't going to be easy.  Their watching
everything like hawks."

"The book wouldn't be behind that anyway.  That was probably hung
there recently."


They moved on to the long hall that formed the second exhibition room.
Here hung the portraits.  The first on that they came to of note was
"Portrait of a lady", Oil-tempera on wood by Rogier Van Der Weyden.
Robbi quickly looked through her notes to see what Amy had to say.
She read aloud, "He turned sharply away from van Eyck's quiet world of
color and light toward monumental pictures whose dramas are played in
human terms.  Known more for his religious works."

"Isn't that Janette?"  Nancy pointed to the woman who was described as
being drawn sharply with clear precision.

Robbi looked closer.  "That is Janette.  She's a beauty, isn't she.
It's not hard to see how she could seduce Nick."

"She sure has a lot of style.  I wish I could be that stylish."

They look at each other and simultaneous said, "Nyah."

"That would make us Ravenettes, wouldn't it?"  Robbi gave a shutter at
the suggestion and they moved on.

"This is really good stuff, Robbi.  You need to try some."

"I think I will."  They walk back to the champagne fountain where
Robbi filled a flute for herself and Nancy got a refill.  "I thought
you never drink."

"This is so good.  I don't think a second glass will hurt anything."
She began to feel to slow warmth of the alcohol spreading through her.

Robbi took a cautious sip.  "You're right, this is some good stuff."

They made their way back to the hall of portraits and stopped in front
of one titled "Adam and Eve" by Jan van Eyck.  The realism evident in
this nude but chaste couple, Eve looking pregnant and holding some
fruit.

"That is truely gorgeous.  Definitely not the nude of Nick."  Nancy
commented.

"I think you are right."  Robbi moved on to the next painting, another
van Eyck.  This one "Portrait of a Man".  "The brochure says that the
scrupulous detail reveals a subtle insight into the model's dark
character.  Amy says this painter was one of the greatest painters who
ever lived and one of the first and best painters of individual
portraits."

Nancy started to giggle.  Pointing at the portrait, she managed to
choke out,  "Isn't that... "

Robbi looked up from her notes.  "Yes.  Shh.  We don't want to attract
the attention of any Cousins.  For all we know, he's here himself.
You don't want Lacroix mad at you, do you?"

"Have you recognized anyone from any of the other factions?  Remember,
we were supposed to keep an eye out, especially for the NatPack."

"I haven't seen anyone that resembles any of those pictures I looked
at. That's not saying much though."

A sobering thought which stopped her giggling for a second then it
started again when she looked back to the painting.  Her companion
grabbed her pointing finger and pulled her on to the next portrait.
They looked at and admired several others while they sipped their
drinks.  On mutual agreement, they return to the fountain and got
refills, the search for the missing book all but forgotten.

They continue down the hall and stood in front of a painting by
Hieronymous Bosch entitled "Garden of Delights".  "There can be no
doubt that the delights in this 'garden' are those of carnal desire...
"  Robbi read from the pamphlet.  She looked over to Nancy whose eyes
were zeroed in on the left of the three panels.  Turning to see what
her friend was looking at, she was thoroughly shocked.  Quickly she
turned her eyes.

"Wow, I heard that Nick posed in the nude, but I didn't expect this.
Boy, does he have a nice... "

Robbi broke in and covered Nancy's eyes and mouth.  "Don't look.  We
can't look."

"I can't even take a picture."  Nancy pulled Robbi's hands from her
face.

Robbi started to giggle,  "I bet they have prints of it in the shop
downstairs.  I know it's not the same thing."  Her eyes fell on her
companion's feet missing the heels she had come in the door with.
"What did you do with your shoes?"

"I kicked them off over there somewhere.  I didn't want to fall and
break my tushy."  They both started giggling at the mental image her
statement brought to mind.

"I can just see you in a tush cast or a maybe a tush sling.  Now
that's funny."  She started to giggle all over again.  "This stuff
really tickles my nose.  I don't think we should have any more."  She
set the flute she was carrying on a nearby display case and turned
back to Nancy.

"Now, what are we going to do about this?  We are sworn to protect
Nick's honor.  We can't allow this painting to be on diplay for all of
Toronto to see."

"Oh, I suppose you're right.  Even if he did pose for it willingly, he
probably regrets it now.  We must defend our knight!  We can hire a
Merc! Yeah!  Maybe Cath and Perri will okay us hiring a Merc to steal
it for the sake of Nick's honor.  I can just see us all with that
painting in the loft when Nick finally arrives back home!"  She licked
her lips with the deliciousness of her plan.

"Calm down, Nancy.  Don't get overheated.  We don't even know if Nick
will be coming back to Toronto."  The look on Robbi's face turned to
an evil grin.  "I do believe you've got something there."   She looked
back at the place where she had set her drink and it was gone.  Making
a decision, she headed back to get another glass with Nancy close
behind.

Arriving at the champagne fountain and getting another glass each,
they looked around at the others who were milling around the
refreshment area. Nancy elbowed Robbi, "Hey, that looks just like
Janette.  Do you suppose it's her?"  She pointed at a woman with dark
brown hair wearing black silk and velvet.

"I don't know.  I've never met her before, but it sure does look like
her. Lets go find out."

The pair of Knighties approached the woman they believed to be Janette
and overheard the conversation that was going on between her and
another woman.

The Janette-like person said, "That is *disgusting* Kelly!"  She
addressed a woman with short light brown-dirty blonde hair and blue
eyes.  She wore a floor length sleeveless red dress with black heels.

"Hhmm?" Kelly jumped, "Oh, Jill, where have you been? Wanna drink?"
She offered Jill a glass.

"No. And I think you have had quite enough yourself, come on." Jill
grabbed Kelly by the arm.  But before they could make it out of the
roomm, they were intercepted by the two roving Knighties.

"Hi, my name if Robbi Egersdorf and this is Nancy Taylor.  We couldn't
help but notice how much you look like a certain... "

Nancy broke in. "... vampire we know."

Robbi looked at her partner in shock that she would mention the *V*
word in public without giving it a second thought.  She turned back to
the women they had approached and continued.  "Yes, as Nancy so aptly
put it.  You look so much like a Janette duCharme that we know."

"Yes, I've been told that before.  My name is Jill Kirby and my
companion here is Kelly Gritten."  She gestured to the woman who stood
beside her.

She was holding some kind of red drink.  Before Jill could stop her,
she blurted out, "We're NatPackers.  Would you like a drink."  She
shoved it close enough to Nancy for her to get a whiff of the tomato
juice and amaretto.

She wrinkled her nose. "No thanks, I've got something to drink.  Thank
you. We're Knighties, by the way."  She said proudly and held up her
flute of champagne, then took a sip.

Robbi elbowed Nancy in the ribs and smiled a sheepish grin.  "So, have
you heard from Natalie lately?"

"Have you heard from Nick?"  Jill retorted.

"Well, no.  Not personally."

"Have you seen at least seen her lately, since... "  Nancy let the
rest of the statement hang

"We haven't seen her since... well, for quite a while."  Kelly
answered, a far away look in her eyes.

"We've been so worried.  No one has heard from her in so long.  Do you
know what's happened to her?"  Robbi continued the interrogation.

"Has something happened to her?  Perhaps she went on vacation.  Sunny
beaches.  Well-tanned beach volleyball players.  Sipping drinks in the
sun. Maybe she'll send us a postcard one of these days."  Jill quipped

"Is she all right?"  Nancy inquired with genuine concern in her voice.

"Wouldn't you be all right if you had a well-tanned volleyball love
slave? Of course, I'm not saying that's where she is... but you never
know." There was definite bite in Jill's voice.

<This isn't getting us anywhere at all.  We were supposed to be
discrete and not raise their suspicions.  I guess all it took was to
mention the word "Knightie" to put up their hackles.>  "Come on Nancy.
We need to get back." Robbi took Nancy by the arm and headed for the
escalators and down.


end part 2b
------------------------


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


The (Washer)King is Dead (1/1)

By K. S. Gritten, from a suggestion by Sharon Himmanen
Time:  Monday, July 29, about 6 pm, after "Homework"
Place:  NatPack Hostel


"You've got to get moving if you are going to make it to the exhibit,"
Eliz said, coming up behind Kelly, who was sorting through a pile of
laundry.

"Yeah, yeah," she said, waving a hand. "I'm almost ready. I've got to
get this load of laundry in, though." She surveyed the pile glumly.
"How did I end up with laundry duty anyway?"

"I'll give you a hand," Eliz smiled, taking pity on her. She grew
puzzled after a moment, however. "How on earth did you end up with a
whole load of *socks*?" With her foot she prodded one particularly
garish argyle sock, which reeked heavily, and shuddered.

"I don't know," Kelly shrugged. "Most of you guys have only been here
for two days--how the heck did you all manage to create this many
filthy, dirty, smelly socks?" She grimaced, then held her nose. "I
think that we should just throw them in the washing machine...."

An ominous sound stopped them both. It sounded ominously. It ominously
sounded throughout the entire hostel. It was OMINOUS, I tell you!

"Noooooo!" they cried, and ran into the laundry room. Sure enough, the
only washing machine clanked threateningly at them. It shook. It
rattled. It wheezed. And then, most ominously of all....

It grew silent.

If they'd had hats, they would have removed them ceremoniously.

"The washing machine is dead," Kelly intoned.

"Long live the washing machine," Eliz replied.

They bowed their heads for a moment, then Eliz asked, "So what was in
there anyway?"

"Oh, just one of Pod's shy and retiring dresses. Apparently the
excitement was too much for the ol' washer."

"Hmmmm," Eliz said. "Guess those socks are going to stay dirty for a
while, huh?"


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


Separated at Birth
Time:   Monday, July 29, about 6 pm; concurrent with "The (Washer)
King is Dead"
Place:  NatPack Hostel

by Jill Kirby, Jennie Hayes and the NatPack

Jennie absently stroked the fabric of the couch, thinking hard.  So
far, they hadn't been abused too badly in this War, with one or two
exceptions (Maureen and Jamie, to be precise, and they would be
brought back into the fold in due time).  But as the Leader of The
Pack (for the third time, thank you, and couldn't anyone else run the
Pack for once?) she felt the need to do something else.

Right now, though, she'd just paint her toenails.

Amy wandered in clutching her water bottle, stepping carefully over a
sleeping GT, and stopped cold when she saw what Jennie was doing.
"Jennie? Why are you painting your toenails orange?"

Jennie stuck out one foot and wiggled her toes.  "Isn't it pretty?"

Amy tried to make sense of that statement, failed, and took a long
swig from her bottle.  "I didn't realize you liked orange," she
muttered, sitting down next to Jennie.

GT opened one eye halfway, grunted, and went back to sleep.

"I've been thinking," said Jennie.  She started putting a second coat
of the sparkly, bright orange polish on her toes.  "I know that Dianne
DeSha is a Merc..."

"She's the Grand High Poopah," Amy added with a slight hiccup.

"That's Poobah."  Jennie sniffed, her eyes narrowing.  "Amy?  Are you
<drinking?>"  She grabbed the water bottle and took a swig, spitting
it out explosively.  "Ick!  Amy, that's straight gin!"

"Yummy, ain't it?"  Amy giggled.  "There is a little lime in there,
too. Vitamin C."

"But you don't drink, Amy..."  Jennie's voice trailed off.  This was
War, after all, and no one in the Pack seemed to be behaving like they
usually did.  And every time she tried to make sense of any NatPack
behaviour, it just gave her a really nasty headache.

Writing it off as some kind of War-Shock disease, Jennie continued.
"Anyway, she's a Merc.  But don' t you think that Dianne is really,
deep down, a NatPacker?"

"Quite probably," said GT, sitting up and scaring both Jennie and Amy
half to death.  She wrapped her arms around her legs and leant her
chin on her knees.  "Didn't you tell me she bounced when you met her
in Wisconsin?"

Jennie nodded emphatically.  "Definitely bounced.  And she has that
pretty strawberry-blonde hair, and smiles exactly like me, and looks a
little like me.  She's NatPack, whether she admits it or not."

"Well, she won't defect," Amy said glumly.  "She's buried her Pack
tendencies so deep that they might never escape."

"That's fine.  Not a problem."  GT smiled.  "We will just have to make
her an honourary member of the Pack."

"Like Susan!  And Tara!" squealed Jennie, delighted.  "What should her
honourary title be?"

The three NatPackers thought for a moment, interrupted only by Amy's
occasional hiccup, until Jennie drew herself up into full Head of the
NatPack height.

"I declare Dianne DeSha to be the Separated at Birth NatPacker,"
Jennie intoned solemnly.  Amy and GT nodded in agreement.

"Now, we just have to tell her," Amy said.  She took a long drink from
her water bottle, as if to prepare herself.

"Maybe I can make her something orange as a welcome gift," Jennie said
thoughtfully.

GT flopped back down onto the floor and went back to sleep.


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


Schemes (2/2):Vachon Sits In
Location: This Old Church
Time: 6 pm, 29 July
by Sherri L. Campbell

Follows Schemes 1/2: The Smile Sinister

Vachon stood in the shadows, quietly watching the Vaqueros. He was
alternating between rage and gratitude. He was thankful the Vaqueros
had revived him, and outraged at the violation of his sanctuary and
food supply.  /They can't help it though, they *didn't* know about the
pig blood, and they had *tried* to fetch more./ Sighing he turned away
and sat in the shadows.

He was still uncertain about what had actually happened, but he knew
he didn't feel the same as before.  He didn't know where Knight was,
he had flown by the loft, and it was occupied by Knighties.  They had
been discussing the events of the previous two months.  He had thought
the preceding 400 plus years had been an education, that there was
nothing new capable of devasting his innermost being. /I was wrong. I
never thought I could be so hurt. I didn't think I could hurt this
badly.  Tracy...../  He rubbed his hand over his face, trying to blank
his thoughts.

Brushing his hand against his hair, it distracted the direction his
thoughts had been going. Reaching up, he checked his hair. /One thing
to be said about being a vampire; at least my hair is growing back
rapidly./ Thinking of the the parties responsible for his assault, he
knew he would like to take some revenge. Knowing Torrey, though, he
knew he couldn't do anything too drastic.  Someway, he wanted to get
the message across that he would *not* be trifled with.  It was really
hard to have a nearly 500 year old 'baby-face', but that was a fact of
un-life.

Sighing, he decided to go talk to Torrey, see what she had in mind for
the hord of people in his church.  He hoped she would say that they
were going home very soon.

Gliding into the main nave, he saw Torrey off in the corner talking to
Sherri and one of the Vaqueras that hadn't been to Toronto last time.
She was the dark-haired, Native American one called Apache.  /Nice
name. From what I've seen, I think the name appropriate./  Approaching
the small group, he saw Apache was smiling evilly, and heard "....I
know. I know exactly who to get.  How about..."

Apache broke off as she realized that Vachon was standing next to
them.  Torrey looked up and smiled. "Hey Vachon, how are you doing?"

Vachon nodded once at them, and sat down. "What are you dicussing so
intently?" The three Vaqueras looked down at their feet. Vachon's
eyebrow rose slightly.  Reaching over to Sherri, he gently lifted her
chin.  "Sherri? I remember how poorly you play poker. Don't even try
to bluff me. Now, *what* were you discussing?"

Sherri blushed, remembering how badly they had all lost to Vachon last
war.  "It's not fair that you've had 400 plus years to perfect your
poker face!"

Vachon shook his head. "No, Sherri, you aren't going to change the
subject, either."  Noting the slightly mulish gleam beginning to show
on her face, he reached out, and put his arm around Torrey. He smiled
with devastating effect from a distance of mere inches. "Torrey?"

"We're going to kidnap someone and hold them for ransom." The words
were out of Torrey's mouth before she could catch her breath.  /It's
not fair that he looks that good!/

Vachon sat back, quietly pulling Torrey back with him. He thought
about what he had just heard. "Okay. *Why* are you going to be
kidnapping someone?"

Torrey was incapable of answering, the glow of delight at being held
by Vachon was nearly overwhelming. Sherri sighed and relented. "We are
running short of funds. We have decided if we kidnap someone, ransom
them, and then use the proceeds to run us for the rest of the time we
are in Toronto, that would be best."

Vachon thought.
<blink>
<blink>
"Okay, I'll help. As long as it is somebody I want to kidnap. What
would you like me to do?"

Torrey looked at Vachon. "What can you do to help?" The smile began
growing on her face. "You'll help us with this kidnapping??"

Vachon smiled quietly. "I said I would. Don't you believe me?"

Apache and Sherri started grinning, too. "Well, if Vachon's in, we'll
get this done with no problem at all!"

Vachon just shook his head. "Ladies, ladies. Let's not get hyperbolic
here. Just explain what we are going to do."

Sherri looked at Apache. "Okay, you were just going to suggest
someone?"

Apache smiled chillingly. "Yes. I propose that we kidnap..." She
stopped looking around suspiciously. She shook her head. "No, it's too
public. I'll tell you later. However, I *can* tell you that it will be
worth it, and that Vachon *will* want to help."

Torrey and her Teniente looked at each other... then at Vachon.  The
smiles that gradually grew on their faces chilled even Vachon.
                      * * * *

(To be Continued... in "Actions"....)


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


The Party Crashers
by Tigon Diana Hooker

6pm to 9pm-30 JUL 1996
Toronto, FG Mansion & Brabant Exhibit


Monday started off blessedly uneventful. The WoofPack, having nothing
more urgent to do than wait for word from the Knighties, or anybody
who'd care to give them a klew, caught up on their sleep, took care of
their dogs, go sightseeing (or in Tigon's case, launch another attack
on shedded fur), and in general veg-out.

By 6pm, Tigon was going stir crazy.

Going through the meager belongings she had packed, she paused to
stroke a rolled up bundle of suede. She had brought it on impulse
because one never wanted to be underdressed around Ravenettes...a
tight, short, sleeveless and backless, black suede dress. Suede didn't
wrinkle, Thank God. Her thoughts drifted to the Brabant opening,
Lizbet had mentioned it as well as some of the Knighties. Apparently
it was via invitation only.

An hour later, clad in the dress, black heels and stockings, hair
brushed and make-up applied...an unrecognizable Tigon strode purposely
toward the museum entrance. She rarely dressed up and usually under
duress, but when she did, particularly in this outfit, mouths dropped.
Men's eyes followed her and women asked her how on earth she kept her
figure. Tigon put on her most vapid Tracy Vetter expression and strode
confidently by a man checking invitations.

"Um, Miss...Miss?" He gently siezed her arm, and Tigon gave him a
devastating smile.

"Yes?" she answered sweetly.

"Uh," his eyes got a vaguely unfocused look, and for a second Tigon
feared he was having a flashback episode. "Um, I need to see your
invitation..." he smiled timidly at her, eyes begging forgiveness.

Tigon's eyes took a vaguely evil glint, which certain men had said
made her even more devastating. "Certainly," she replied, opening up
her clutch purse. "It's right in here."

Automatically, his eyes dropped to the bags interior. Two bright pink
eyes stared up at him, then turned blood red. Timon's nose
twitched...so did the man's. Tigon carefully closed the purse and
continued on inside.

Behind her the man's voice could be heard asking the next person at
the door, "May I see your invitation...and would you happen to have
any crackers I could eat?"

Tigon strolled around and took turns staring at artwork and people,
none of whom seemed to notice her unless it was to ogle. She spent a
healthy amount of time studying a certain nude...answering the chest
and any other question she might have.

She was in fact reconfirming these answers when she caught sight of a
familiar person out of the corner of her eye...one who definitely
shouldn't be here...Angelique!

Or Suk. Or Lisa. It sort of depended on the woman's mood at the time.
Privately, Tigon liked her to that schizophrenic woman/woman/vampire
from 'Hearts of Darkness.' Lisa was the nice normal woman. Suk or
Sukhmet was the slightly crazy woman. Angelique was a 3000 or 4000
year old vampiress. At times, Tigon herself wasn't sure what the
reality of the situation was.

What she was sure about was that now would not be a good time for her
Sybil-like acquaintance to have an episode. Striding purposefully over
(her high heels making *almost* as much noise as Lizbet in bare feet),
Tigon firmly snagged the woman by the arm and dragged her out of the
museum.


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


An Excuse to See a Garden of Delights (1/2)
By Cynthia Hoffman with Jane Credland
Date:  July 29, 1996
Time:  6:30 p.m.
Place:  Raven

"I'm very disappointed in you," the dark haired vampire said.  "I was
relying on you and you have failed me."

"I was napping!" roared Cynthia, her rage palpable.  "I'm allowed, you
know.  It was only an hour!"

Jane stood in a corner of the bar watching carefully.  She'd heard
about Cynthia's rages before, but never witnessed one personally.
This was definitely going to be an experience to remember.

"I have been up 60 straight hours on nothing but caffeine and
neckrubs, making this club happen while you've been out buying clothes
and relearning your *fashion* sense for God's sake.  I took an hour
off to nap.  I can't be everywhere all the time.  I'm sorry they got a
crate or two of blood; I'm sorry they "greened" the place.  I'm even
sorrier that sorry excuse for a vampire got coifed and dumped into our
back room.  I've done my best and fixed it all.  But I cannot make the
extravaganza that you seem to believe you deserve happen.  It simply
cannot be done.  At least not by midnight tonight."

Muttering something about how someone ought to pay for a security
system instead of relying on overworked and unpaid volunteer help, not
to mention children to do security sweeps for surveillance devices,
Cynthia attempted to free herself from the grasp of one very angry
dark haired vampire. Janette might be slimmer than she, but in spite
of hours lifting weights, the vampire had a grip Cynthia had no hope
in hell of getting out of.

The rest of the Raven/ettes slid deeper into the darkness of the club,
trying to decide which person standing by the bar was more frightening
to them, a yellow eyed Janette or a clearly out of control Cynthia.

"Are you quite finished?" Janette said icily.

Cynthia continued to mutter incoherently about ungrateful vampires and
outrageous expectations and how she should have stayed in San
Francisco where she had a law office full of people who did the same
thing to her but at least *they* paid her and a dissertation advisor
who pushed her but at least occasionally said "good job."

"Cherie, no-one forced you to come and help me put the Raven back
together. There was no gun placed to your head.  No fangs at your
throat.  You chose to travel to Toronto."  Janette tightened her hold
on the angry mortal.

The vampire lifted one shoulder in a liquid french movement.  She
stared into Cynthia's eyes; their heartbeats began to resonate.  "You
*will* do as I ask.  There *will* be a grand re-opening.  You *will*
hire a band.  You *will* give me the celebration I deserve.  And you
*will* do it by midnight tonight."

With an angry snort, Cynthia blinked and smiled for the first time in
hours.  "Not a chance sweetheart," she stated.  "You know, I've always
suspected I couldn't be hypnotised.  Thanks for helping me prove it."

"Now, you will listen to me and you will listen good.  This club *can*
re-open tonight.  Bonnie is here to sing, Felicia and Chris can back
her up. There is an outrageously good sound-system.  There is a fully
stocked bar, thanks to Bonnie's quick thinking, the slacker is no
longer located in the back room, thanks to mine, the walls are no
longer green."  Cynthia continued, "the bugs are history; not only the
ones Jessica found in the wall panels and heating ducts but the ones
we discovered in the light fixtures we replaced this afternoon. Tara
can mix drinks, as can Tami until we find Miklos. Here's your liquor
license, signed and notarized."

"I will make sure you get a grand opening, at a time more appropriate
than five hours from now, and most importanly, not until you have told
me quite sincerely *thank you* for all the good work I've done for
you."

"Now.  Let go of my arm before I break your fingers.  You may heal
faster than I do, but I bet I can still make you hurt."

Shocked, Janette loosened her grip and Cynthia stormed out of the bar
onto the street, where Janette couldn't follow her because the sun was
still shining.

But Jane could.

And she did.


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


VAQ ACTIONS 1/?:Upping the Ante
The Old Church
July 29th, 6:45 or so...
by J.S. Levin/Stormsinger

Follows Schemes 1 & 2.

Like most Churches, the Old Church had its' kitchen in the basement.
Which was just fine.  It was a very nice kitchen, capable of handling
all the preparations for a four remove feast for oh, say, a hundred
and sixty.

Storm had done feasts for a hundred and sixty.  That's why she was in
the kitchen, making lentil stew in a soup vat large enough to bathe
in, and recruiting the odd Vaquero/a to knead bread.  Simple food, and
lots of it. Ready at all hours.  A recipe for the success of a science
fiction convention, a medieval event, or a War.  Besides, this was a
talent which was far more useful to her fellow Vaqueros than a dubious
guitar or redundant legal skills.

"Smells good," Vachon commented from directly behind her.

"Ah, @#$@#!" Storm yelped, scattering raisins across the big work
table.  At her feet, Tynan bounded up to chase the raisins bouncing
across the floor, *mrrping* gleefully. "Don't *do* that, Vachon!  It's
not fair!"

Vachon watched the grey Persian erupt into sudden kittenhood,
grinning. "Yeah, but the cat liked it."  He came around to the table
and started sweeping up the spilled raisins.  "So did I, for that
matter."  He used one hand to build a pile of dried fruit in the
middle of the table.  "What *are* you doing, by the way?"

"Keeping your followers fed, mostly."

He sniffed the air again.  "Lentils, huh?  That's an old recipe."

She tipped her head and narrowed her eyes.  "How can you tell that?
And you said it smelled good, too.  I thought you didn't like the
smell of mortal food anymore."

He shrugged and perched on one of the kitchen stools.  "Nah. It just
doesn't smell like *food* to me.  But I know what I'm smelling; that
hasn't changed.  Things can smell good or bad without being
appetizing, you know."

She nodded.  "True enough.  So how'd you know my lentil recipe wasn't
modern?"

Another shrug, and a characteristic jerk of the head that would have
flung back his hair if it were long enough --which it wasn't any more.
"Well, let's just say that lentils used to be popular back in my day,
too; and this smells similar."

Storm reached for a knife to chop raisins.  "Well, since this recipe
dates from about, oh, thirteen or fourteen something, I guess it
would."

Vachon watched her work in silence for a moment, occassionally
shifting his attention to Tynan, who was still batting raisins around
the floor.  "I can help," he suggested.

Storm stopped, chef's knife frozen in her hand.  "I... surely you have
more important things to do than chop raisins, Vachon."

"Not at the moment.  Sun's up; I'm not that tired, and your fellow
Vaqueros are doing things to the upper levels of my church I don't
think I want to see.  Give me the knife --it's something mindless for
me to do."

She did, and watched him start chopping as if he really didn't have
anything better in the world to do.  "Uh, thanks."

He looked up and gave her that heart-stopping smile, the real one he
hardly ever used.  "Sure."
                           * * * *
Torrey and Sherri came in a few moments later.  "Man, that smells
great!" Torrey said.  "Listen, Storm, can you leave this stuff for a
while?  We've got a job for you!"

Storm did a patented Vachon Blink.  "Oh yeah?  A real --like, beyond
the geese -- job?"

Sherri nodded.  "We need you to scope out the Mercs chocolate store."

"Hmmm."  Storm looked around the kitchen.  The lentils had everything
in them they needed.  All they needed was to be stirred occassionally
with the big wooden spoon -- the size of a small oar.  The bread was
rising but wouldn't be ready to bake for a couple of hours.  Vachon
had the raisins chopped and was most of the way through the walnuts
for the dessert.  "Okay, I guess I can do it.  Uh, can someone stir
the stew occassionally?"

"Sure," Vachon answered from his seat at the worktable. "Can Tynan
stay with me?"

"You want His Nibs for company, you've got him," she agreed. "I think
he likes you."

"He likes raisins," the vampire noted, dropping another one for the
cat to chase down and devour.

Storm sighed.  "Figures.  You eat the *weirdest* stuff, cat."  She
turned to her faction leaders, pulling off her apron.  "I am yours to
command, my masters."

They went back upstairs as Torrey and Sherri explained. The job was
relatively simple -- all she had to do was find out how *much*
chocolate the Mercs actually had.  "Well, why don't we just call them
and pretend to be some chain of stores wanting to feature their
chocolates, and how much do they have available for immediate
delivery?"  Storm suggested.

Sherri shook her head.  "Nah.  They'd just back-check us. Too easy.
We figured you could pretend to be *selling* chocolates, and get them
to refuse to buy from you on the grounds that they've got enough..."

Storm held up a hand.  "I get the idea.  However, I don't like lying,
you know.  Not good for my Priestessly image."

"Look," Sherri urged, "you weren't up here for the last war. Hardly
anyone has seen you.  All you need to do, is dress neatly, and go to
the Merc's store, and see if you can sell them chocolate."

"They aren't going to buy, so it's not really like you'd have to
deliver," Torrey added.

"Let me check something."  Storm went over to one of the phones and
began dialing.  "Come on... come on... I know you're.... Hi, Judy!
Yeah, babe, it's me.  Toronto, like I said.  No...the boss went up
north, so I cut out. Just a few days.  Uh..."  Her face went from grin
to apologetic to defensive to grin in rapid succession as the voice on
the other end continued without pause.  "Uh, Judy, breathe, honey.
Breathing is good.  Don't get wraped up about it. It's not that bad.
Really.  Besides, I might be able to expand the horizons of The
Hobbit's Kitchen.  You got any spare stock?"

More Shouting From The Other End Of The Phone.  Storm Held It Away
From Her Ear.  "Uh, Hon, I *Know* Gencon Is This Weekend.  I Know How
Much Chocolate And Cookies Gamers Eat. I've Worked Your Table At
Plenty Of Cons.  Just A Few Pounds Of Various..."  She Waited Out The
Blast.  "Your Spanish Is Getting Better.  Too Bad You Can't Use It In
Polite Company. It's For Vachon, Judy.  That's Right.  No, Of Course
Not. He Probably Has No Idea What Chocolate Tastes Like. Probably
Doesn't Care, Either."  Another Pause. "Chocolate *bats*.  Oh, gods,
Judy, where'd you get *that* candy mold? Right, right, trade secret.
Can we do it?" Some more discussion at great length.  "Okay, okay, it
won't be the Hobbit's Kitchen then! Uh.. we'll think of another name,
alright?  Anything else?  Good --will you do it then?  Thank you thank
you! I love you, honey.  Now and always.  See you soon."

Torrey and Sherri were watching respectfully.  "You know," Sherri
commented with a grin, "Even half that conversation was pretty
amusing."

Storm chuckled. "Yeah, well, her hobbitishness does get dramatic --
but she's agreed to let us have up to ten pounds of her best assorted
as a "sampler" if we need it.  Hope we don't, though.  The biggest
gamer con in North America is happening in Milwaukee this weekend, and
she's got a table for it.  She's been building stock for four months,
and I'll bet it doesn't make it through Saturday.  Uh, we just can't
use her name.  Sorry; she's touchy about it.  It's not the Kitchen
unless the Hobbit is there."

Sherri spread her hands.  "No big deal.  We'll call it.. uh, The
Chocolate Supplier!  Yeah.  That'll work.  I'll get Charlyne on the
business cards right away."

"Great!" said Torrey.   "Now, can you *look* the part of a sales rep?"

"What, no jeans?"  Storm grinned.  "Have no fear.  I'm a paralegal,
remember?  I brought (although gods alone know why) a business suit,
along with a fancy dress, hot weather clothes, cool weather clothes --
suffice it to say that I overpack because you never know what you'll
need.  I can do it."

"Then let's get this show on the road!" said Sherri.

End part 1. <whew!>


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


An Excuse to See a Garden of Delights (2/2)
By Cynthia Hoffman
Date:  July 29, 1996
Time:  Approximately 7:00 p.m.
Place: Streets of Toronto and the Shores of Lake Ontario
Immediately following Excuse to See a Garden, part 1 and
prior to Vampire Sex Bar, part 1


"You know at the rate you're moving no one would know you ever spent
the better part of two years on crutches."  Jane grabbed Cynthia by
the hand and attempted to make her stop trotting down the street.
"Slow down, would you please?"

"Sorry.  When I'm angry I move fast," retorted Cynthia.  "Ask my
swimming coaches from school."  She looked intently at her partner for
a moment and then continued, "You didn't need to follow me you know.
I just need some air.  I'll be fine -- eventually."

"I think I'll stick around anyway, okay?" inquired Jane.  "Besides,
this is my town and I have no question that after dark, you will get
lost.  The lake is not on the same side directionally as the pacific
ocean." She paused a moment, trying to decide if she was hurt or just
relieved that Cynthia hadn't so mortally offended Janette that she
found herself, well, dinner.  Speaking of which ...

"Once the sun goes down, Janette can and probably will, follow you,
you know.  She doesn't strike me as the type to take what you said
lightly. Have you given any thought to what happens next?  For
instance, where, exactly, are we sleeping tonight?  Shall I call Susan
and Cory and let them know we'll be home tonight?"

Cynthia looked thoughtful for a moment, considered the street ahead of
her and inquired, "is the lake that way?  I need to see water and
think."

She and Jane walked slowly down to the water, hand in hand while the
sun moved west and began to sink on the horizon.  Strange, thought
Cynthia, idly, that the sun sets someplace and there's no water to be
seen.

**********************
7:30 p.m.

Watching the water wasn't doing what it usually did.  There was simply
too much in her head and not enough distraction for her to keep
herself from going over it in detail.  The announcement had gone out
that the Raven was reopening tonight.  Bonnie was there to sing,
musicians were there to play, she'd promised Jane she'd accompany her
to Sanctuary tonight and no matter what she had said to Janette, she
needed to be back at the Raven by midnight to make sure all went well.
Someone had once told her Aquarians were flakey.  Too bad no one had
warned her earlier so she could develop some of that in her own life.

No, she needed a serious Cynthia type distraction and something told
her it was right at her fingertips, if she'd just look for it.  And
she was right.

Cynthia rummaged in her fanny pack and dug out the Exhibition
announcement for the Brabant exhibit, scheduled to open right now at
the ROM.  Jane was a museum member.  Before the war had started, she'd
snagged tickets for opening night for the two of them.  There.  That
pocket.  Yes.  Even better.  Glancing at the flyer in her hands,
Cynthia chuckled.  "Saved me a trip to the Prado this one has.  Wonder
what this one cost him?"

"I've found the perfect distraction," she stated.  "Let's grab a cab
for the Museum.  Bosch had a wonderful habit of putting flowers up the
butts of men in his paintings.  And I've always wanted to see the
Garden of Delights."

Sanctuary didn't open until after 10; the Raven didn't open until
midnight.  She had plenty of time to lose herself in the perversities
of medieval art.  Leaning over, she gave Jane a quick kiss on the
mouth.

"Let's go," she said.  "Time's a wasting."


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


Pictures at an Exhibition
Time: Monday 7/29/96 at 7PM
Place: The ROM, where the Brabant Exhibit is happening...

As small clumps of spectators oohed and ahhed at the collection, a
cloud of white mist (or was it smoke?) started pouring out of one of
one of the vents from which fresh cool air poured into the museum. The
white cloud drifted slowly down to an unoccupied corner where it began
to coalesce into the form of someone who shared Nick's idea of fashion
sense.  The person was wearing a black suit with a tan suede vest and
a black banded collar shirt.  The only things that looked a bit odd
were the Australian drover's coat he wore over his suit and the black
snakeskin cowboy boots which, although quite cool-looking, didn't
really go with the suit.

The Enforcer glanced around.  No one saw him enter.  Good.  However,
it took him a few moments to get oriented.  Getting sucked into the
INTAKE of an air-conditioner can be VERY disorienting, especially if
you get caught up in the fan....

He looked around.  He knew members of the other Factions were going to
be there, so he quickly became one with the shadows to Lurk and see
who showed up and what they did once they were there.  He also
suspected Nick might poke his head in and, well,  Ron was sure the
Die-Hards would like to know if the Brick was in town.  Rumor had it
he was commanding his troops from afar, but the War was still young.
He *might* show.  And, if this was the place he decided to make an
appearance, it was a Die-Hard's duty to be there to witness and report
it!

After he was quite certain he had obfuscated himself well away from
mortal detection, Ron quietly began to Lurk around the Exhibit to look
for familiar faces.....

*****************
I'm just going to be LURKING at the Brabant Exhibit for the few hours
it is happening.  Anyone ho wants to write in Lurker observations made
by me,  feel free.   After the Exhibit closes for the night, I'm
returning to Die-Hard HQ.   So basically, I'm at the Museum from about
7PM to 10PM (?) if that is how long it all is on for....


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