*********************************************************************
                            War 7 File 4
*********************************************************************

Exhibit(ionists) 1/5
By:  K. S. Gritten, Mei Wa Kwong, Alora Chistiakoff, Amparo
(Pod) Bertram and Jill Kirby, with suggestions by Sharon
Himmanen and the NatPack
Time:  Monday, July 29, about 7 pm
Place:  NatPack limo, enroute to ROM exhibit


The limo slid effortlessly through the evening traffic. The occupants
of the car, however, were less calm.

"Are you sure that you know how to get there?" Alora asked, slightly
worried. She fiddled with the car front panels absently, turning down
the volume of Kelly's tape (not that Jim Byrnes' voice wasn't lovely,
but still...), changing the air conditioner setting, and finally
settling upon the cigarette lighter which glowed cheerfully at her.

"You aren't going to smoke in here," Kelly said, turning the volume
back up. Her navigation always improved with a little driving
distraction. "Besides, I thought that Jill knew where we were going."
It wasn't that she particularly enjoyed driving this huge hunk of
metal, but Sharon had her car, and they had all that money, so it
seemed logical at the time to rent a limo. Besides, the driver got
first choice of music.

Lounging in the backseat with Amparo and Mei, Jill sighed. "It's not
much further," she said, plucking a non-existent piece of lint from
her black silk shirt. "Oh, these clothes are so hard to keep clean."

"I'd settle for any clothes," Mei grumbled. All this money, and the
only thing that she had to wear was a silver airline peanut bag. And a
cellular phone. Maybe if she draped the cord of the phone
suggestively...

"I think that we're going to be late," Alora continued, cutting off
the conversation before it could digress any further. She definitely
did not want to talk about clothes.

"Do you think that Nick will be there?" Pod asked suddenly. Jill shot
her a curious glance at the almost... longing tone in her voice.

"In spirit, if not physically, I'm sure," Kelly said evenly, grinding
her teeth a little.

"Oh, I hope that he is," Amparo continued. "I've got this tape I made
of his voice from various episodes...you don't mind if I put it in, do
you?" She lunged for the tape deck and popped the cassette of Jim
Byrnes out, but Kelly, one hand still on the steering wheel, grabbed
her arm with the other in a death grip.

"You are not putting a tape of Nick Knight babbling on in my car!" she
exclaimed.

"It's not your car!" Amparo retorted, snatching her arm away from the
rabid NatPacker. "We all paid for it."

"Well, I don't--"

"Shhhh..." Alora commanded, suddenly turning the volume on the radio
up.

"...the car, an Autumn-Wine (tm) Chevy Cavalier with US license plates
appears to be in pursuit of another vehicle. They've been disrupting
traffic all along the main thoroughfares, but city officials are
gaining quickly. We'll have more news for you as the story
progresses..."

"Sharon!" they shouted.

"My car!" Kelly moaned.

"We've got to find her!" Alora cried.

"Wait! Wait! Stop! There!" screamed Mei.

"What is it? Is it Sharon?" asked Kelly, swiveling around to look at
the other occupants.

"The road! Kelly watch the road!" Jill sputtered, gripping the
driver's shoulder painfully hard.

With cat-like reflexes--okay, fear-driven reflexes--Kelly spun back
around to see the limo about to barrel into a sixteen wheeler. With a
sharp jerk of the wheel, she managed to maneouver the limo back into
its lane. "Male, Canadian drivers," she muttered under her breath.

The passengers in the back slowly picked themselves up from the floor
where they had been thrown by Kelly's creative driving.

"Now Mei," began Kelly in an irritatingly calm voice, "What did you
see? Sharon?"

"No." Mei answered excitedly, an unholy gleam in her eyes. "A mall."

"We nearly got killed because you saw A MALL?!" screamed an
incredulous Alora.

"Hey!" Mei said, defending herself. "You try taking a simple flight
from Washington, DC to Toronto which happened to be delayed two hours
but they don't bother to tell you so they leave you sitting on the
runway. Then when you finally take off, you get re-routed to Omaha.
Then they stick you on a flight to Baton Rouge with a connecting
flight to Dallas from there to New York and fifteen hours later you
wind up in Toronto. Wearing the same clothes I might add.  You would
get excited about a mall too."

"We're going to be late to the exhibit," Alora muttered.

"I AM NOT GOING ANYWHERE UNTIL I GET SOME CLOTHES!" Mei said, deadly
calm.

With a far-away look in her eyes, Amparo patted Mei on the shoulder
comfortingly. "Don't worry. They can drop us off, and we'll meet up
with them later. We need to shop."


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


Exhibit(ionists) 2/5
Time:  Monday, July 29, c. 7:30 pm
Place:  A Really Big Mall


"I can't wear that!" Mei squeaked.

She was staring at the black leather dress that was slit up the sides.
Slit in the more metaphorical sense of meaning barely qualifying to be
called a single piece of clothing. Opened all the way up to the top of
the thighs, the only thing that held the front and back of the dress
together were criss-crossing ties. The front was conservatively cut,
but the back plunged down to the bottom of the spine.

"Why not?" Amparo asked in all innocence.  She looked at the dress in
her hands. "You would look great in this."

Mei glared at her. "I'm going to be a future lawyer. Future lawyers do
not wear that." She stabbed a finger at the dress to emphasize her
point.

"And I guess that is what they wear?" Pod asked looking at the
leggings and oversized T-shirt on her companion who also had a
sweatshirt knotted around her waist with a raised eyebrow.

"This is my travel outfit," Mei said with as much dignity as she could
muster for someone wearing battered Reeboks and purple leggings while
browsing in the evening wear.

"Okay," said Pod as she replaced the dress on the rack. She pulled out
another outfit. "How about this one?"

Mei stared at the dress that looked like a piece of black lace on a
hanger. "No." Mei walked over to another rack and pulled out another
dress. "Yes?"

Amparo looked at the high-necked, matronly dress. "No." She selected
another one. "Yes?"

"I don't have the right equipment to keep that dress up."

They finally compromised on a strapless red gown that was tight enough
for Mei to keep up and short enough to satisfy Pod.

"Now," Amparo said, rubbing her hands in glee, "My turn." She gave the
remains of Mei's hunt a withering glance. "No...no...I do have
*standards*--after all, *he* might see me in the dress I choose...."
She trailed off dreamily, her eyes glazing.

"He?" Mei was perplexed."He who?"

Amparo shook her head, her long hair swishing back and forth. "Hmm?
Oh, no one, never mind." She continued her search, finally selecting a
form-fitting, thigh-length, sleeveless number, elegantly cut from
midnight blue crushed velvet. "Now--accessories! We'll have to try
another shop," she sighed. "Come on."

They paid for their outfits and Mei followed the other NatPacker
through the mall. They passed by shop after shop, none meeting with
approval, until Pod practically screeched to a halt. Her eyes shone.
Her breathing grew shallow.

"What is it?" Mei asked, pushing her aside to look in the shop window.
There it sat, sleek and glistening black, coiled like a deadly snake
poised to strike. "A *whip*? What on Earth would you do with a
*whip*?"

Amparo floated into the store, mesmerized. "Rank hath its privileges,"
she murmured. "It's perfect. The ideal Zine Organizer's Whip(tm)."

"But why...?" Mei persisted.

Pod smiled at her own private vision, worlds away. "When he comes
back, I'll show him a night he'll never forget!"


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


Exhibit(ionists) 3/5
Time:  Monday, July 29, about 7:30 pm
Place:  ROM, the Brabant exhibit


"What a slob," Alora muttered as she tried to wipe soot off her
sequined halter top and black pant suit. Tiring of playing with the
lighter in the car, she had begun lighting and blowing out matches, to
the bemused glances of her companions.  The NatPackers had made it to
the Royal Ontario Museum, relatively unscathed, but they were awaiting
the arrival of their comrades missing-in-shopping-action. They stepped
on the escalator and rode up to the reception area.

"Can't take you anywhere, can we?" Kelly teased as she and Jill
scanned the room for any signs of Mercs, Cousins, Knighties, or any
other semblance of trouble.

"Apparently not," Alora grumbled. Giving up on cleaning her attire,
she looked up at Kelly, and noticed a change in her companion's
expression. "What are you doing?"

"Huh?" Kelly mumbled as she stared at the champagne fountain. She
ignored her fellow Natpackers and crossed the room to the overflow of
champagne. "Oh yum."

"Kelly?" Jill started to follow her.

Alora stared after them for a second, but she became distracted by
movement from the lower floor. Hopping on the down escalator, she
disappeared from sight.

"Alora!" Jill called after her, looking between the two as they headed
off in different directions. "War newbies!" she thought irritably.

Alora had continued through the foyer and out of the main building.
Stepping outside, she approached a stranger as he was lighting a
cigarette. "May I?" she asked.

"Sure," he said, tapping his cigarette carton and handing her one. Her
hand took the cigarette but her eyes never left the lighter.

"Uh, would you like a light?" the gentleman asked awkwardly as Alora
stood in the doorway holding the cigarette at her side.

"Huh?" She glanced at his face, "Yes, please." She lifted the
cigarette to her lips and watched as the man's thumb struck the shiny
lighter and the flame burst from the top. He held it to the end of her
cigarette and then quickly snapped it shut.

As the flame vanished Alora shook her head to clear it. "What was
that?" she thought. An image flickered in her memory--she and a woman,
talking somewhere. In a room...

The image disappeared.

Jill, who had pursued her, approached her cautiously. "Alora?"

"Yes?" She turned around, looking more than just slightly odd with a
cigarette dangling from her lower lip.

Jill arched her eyebrow, "Alora, I thought you had asthma?"

"I do," Alora said, missing the point.

"And I thought you didn't smoke because of it," Jill continued.

"I don't."

"Then why do you have a cigarette in your mouth, cheri?" Jill reached
up and took the cigarette from between the girl's lips. Waving it in
front of Alora she said, "These are very bad for asthmatics, non?"

Puzzled, Alora stared at the cigarette for a moment.

"Oh geez." She doubled over against the door as she convulsed in a fit
of choking and coughing.

"Are you alright?" Jill asked, once Alora stopped coughing.

She straightened and shook her head.

"You're turning blue!"

Alora nodded, and pointing to her purse on the ground, she wheezed,
"Inhaler!"

Jill reached for the small handbag lying on the sidewalk. Opening it,
she dug through several lighters and a dozen books of matches before
finding the medication necessary to keep one of the NatPackers from
being carted from the museum on a gurney.


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


Exhibit(ionists) 4/5
Time:  Monday, July 29, about 7:30 pm
Place:  ROM, the Brabant exhibit


After stationing Alora outside on a bench to rest, Jill returned
inside and headed up the escalator to the reception.

She found Kelly at the end of the bar, staring at the glasses in front
of her with great concentration, "That one needs more," she mumbled as
she reached for the bottle of vodka.

"Kelly, what are you doing?"

Kelly stirred the drink carefully, "The color is still wrong," She
reached for the cognac, before changing her mind, "Hey barkeep!"

The horrified bartender slowly approached the end of the bar, "Yes
ma'am?"

"Do you have any Ribena?"

"No ma'am." /What the hell's Ribena, anyway?/

"What about tomato juice?"

"With vodka and amaretto?"

"I want something red," Kelly shook her head at him as if he should
have known that.

"Yes ma'am." He reached beneath the bar and handed her a bottle of
tomato juice, "Anything else?"

"Got any orange juice and Peppermint Schnapps?"

The bartender looked at Kelly and then at Jill, who was staring rather
blankly at Kelly herself. Reaching into a box on the floor he handed
her bottles of each.

"That's much better!" Kelly smiled as she added a splash of each.

Jill felt her stomach turn as the tomato juice swirled through the
amaretto, "That is *disgusting* Kelly!"

"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.  Before they could make it out of the room,
however, they were confronted by a pair of women.  One wore a sapphire
blue satin gown, but she was without shoes; the other was more subdued
but still stunning in a black and pink ensemble. Jill eyed their
clothes with a practiced eye, and bristled slightly.

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

The other broke in. "Vampire we know."

The first gave her companion an evil glance, but continued, "Yes, as
Nancy so aptly put it.  You look so much like a Janette duCharme that
we know."

Jill smiled graciously. "Yes, I've been told that before.  My name is
Jill Kirby and my companion is Kelly Gritten." With a perfectly
manicured nail, she indicated to Kelly, who was less composed.

Kelly eyed the newcomers critically. They looked as if they needed a
few more vitamins in their diets. "We're NatPackers," she said, as if
that explained everything. "Would you like a drink?"

Nancy wrinkled her nose at the concoction which Kelly thrust towards
her. "No thanks, I've got something to drink. Thank you. We're
Knighties," she announced, and quickly took a sip of her undoctored
champagne.

"I'm so sorry," Jill said smoothly.  The Knighties appeared not to
notice.

Robbi elbowed her companion, then said in an attempt at being casual,
"Oh, so, have you heard from Natalie lately?

The NatPackers eyed them suspiciously. "Have you heard from Nicola?"
Jill retorted.

"Well, no. Not personally," Robbi admitted. Nancy broke in, "Have you
seen her lately?"

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

The Knighties seemed anxious to continue the interrogation. Kelly
wondered whether the concern was theirs, or Nick's. "We've been so
worried. No one has heard from her in so long. Do you know what's
happened to her?" Robbi continued.

"Has something happened to her?" Jill answered glibly. "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."

"Is she alright?" Nancy pushed. Jill was touched by the genuine
concern that she heard in the woman's voice, but she continued with
her light-hearted banter.

"Wouldn't you be alright if you had a well-tanned volleyball-playing
love slave? Of course, I'm not saying that's where she is...but you
never know." The conversation was wearing thin for the NatPackers, and
they eyed the Knighties carefully.

Robbi seemed to realize that the interview was at a close, and she
took her friend by the arm. "Come on Nancy. We need to get back."

The NatPackers watched them leave silently, lost in thought. Suddenly
Jill nudged Kelly painfully in the shoulder, almost making her spill
the drink concoction.

"We've got to get out of here," Jill said.

"Yeah," Kelly agreed. "Those Knighties are entirely too curious."

"No, look over there," Jill hissed. Kelly followed her gaze.

"Cool! Is that LaCroix? I've never actually met him. Or seen him in
the flesh, for that matter. I wonder if he likes Valentine
stories...."

"No, you don't understand," Jill continued, plucking the drink from
Kelly's hand, putting it on the bar, and steering her friend towards
the escalator.  "It's his flesh that is the problem."

"Huh?"

"Sometimes I forget that you weren't around for the last war. It's his
rear.  His bottom.  His butt."  She sighed.  "I'll tell you later.
Let's get out of here!"


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


Exhibit(ionists) 5/5
Time:  Monday, July 29, about 7:30 pm
Place:  ROM, Brabant exhibit


They found Alora still sitting on a bench nursing her inhaler, but she
had been joined by Mei and Amparo, who had returned from their
extensive shop. Pod had a whip--which the others instantly recognized
as a Zine-Organizer's Whip (tm) and watched her nervously, thinking of
all the zine stories that they still had not written--wrapped
decoratively around her waist.

"I think that we ought to get out of here," Kelly urged them, trying
to herd the NatPackers towards the limo. "I think that I saw a couple
of Unaffiliateds, we've been interrogated by Knighties--"

"Seen LaCroix," Jill interrupted darkly.

"LaCroix?!" Mei exclaimed enthusiastically, but quieted at Jill's
glare.

"--and besides," Kelly continued. "The bartender won't give me any
more alcohol to mix.  I think we should hit the bars."

The word choice was, perhaps, unfortunate. As if to illustrate the
REAL meaning of the word "hit", an ear-shattering squeal assaulted
their ears. They turned, and saw a variety of well-dressed,
exquisitely-coiffed museum patrons diving for cover as an Autumn-Wine
colored <tm> Chevy Cavalier, which had been flying through the parking
lot, came barreling towards them.

Kelly looked from the car, to the elegant and particularly-sturdy-
looking facade of the museum, and ran out towards the automobile
waving her hands madly. "Noooo!" she cried.

"Kelly!" the NatPackers screamed from behind her.

Anti-lock brakes are a Good Thing.

The car squealed to a halt in front of its owner. Sharon, a
surprisingly wide grin adorning her face, jumped out of the driver's
seat and said, "Hey, Kelly--your car handles like a dream! Thanks a
lot!"

Kelly whimpered back at her.

The other NatPackers pushed towards them, peppering Sharon with
questions. "Where have you been?" "How did you know that we were
here?" "Are you okay?"

Jill's voice cut through all of them. "Quiet!" They looked at her, but
she was pointing inside the car, indicating towards a figure in the
driver's seat. "Is that who I think it is?"

Sharon smiled even wider--if they hadn't been concentrating on the
stranger, the other NatPackers probably would have fainted in
amazement--and laughed, "It's a pretty good likeness, isn't it? He's
not the real The Guy; he's a part-time salt smuggler. I finally caught
up with him. We, uh..." she looked at The Guy Look-alike and waggled a
few fingers in his direction, "...came to an agreement. He's going to
be our chauffeur."

"Ooh," they breathed in unison, but quickly caught themselves so as
not to endure the wrath of Sharon.  Drooling over The Guy in any form
was not permitted in her presence.

Sharon, still high from the grand entrance, only gave Pod, who was
looking at The Guy Look-alike with an expression of longing, a
slightly belligerent glare. Alora nudged the girl pointedly. "Don't
look too long," she whispered.

"I think Sharon's so lucky," Pod said abruptly. "It's not the real The
Guy, but still....I was just thinking about Nick," she said in a
wistful sigh.

The change in Sharon was immediate and frightening. "Where is he?" she
howled. "Where's his sorry butt? He's a dead man!"

"He's already dead," Mei said helpfully. "He's a vampire."

Undeterred, Sharon continued. "Dead! And *I'm* gonna kill him! Mangle
him! Rip his sorry lips off, not that he would ever use them for
something as silly and useless as *foreplay*, because he's too busy
*lying* and being a waste product of undeadness!"

The other Natpackers slowly edged away from the Angry One, who had
gone so far beyond even her usual Nick-ranting that they were all
frightened.

"Something's not right here," whispered Kelly to Jill. "Just the
mention of his name set her off."

"Hands off the silk," Jill admonished Kelly, who quickly took her hand
off Jill's shoulder. "You're right. Sharon hates Nick, but not like
*this*. This is even worse than she gets when she's been drinking
Harp. Believe me, I know."

"Shave his nasty blonde head!" screeched Sharon, demonstrating by
pulling her own hair into a ponytail on top of her head and yanking it
violently, causing her head to flop around in a very unusual fashion.
"Shave it right the hell *off*!"

Amparo, who had snapped out of her Nick fantasy, nudged Kelly. "We
need to get her out of here," she said quietly over the roar of
Sharon's ever-increasing rage. She nodded toward several Knighties who
were gaping at them. "We'd better go." Amparo's eyes filled with
tears. "I don't understand why she *hates* him so, but we need to
leave."

"Well, we finally have my car," Kelly said with relief. "And the
keys," she added, as they flew out of Sharon's hand during one of her
pantomimed smacks of the "Nicky-twit." Kelly caught them neatly before
they smacked her in the head, and breathed a sigh of relief.

"Anyone have an extra AK-47?" Sharon asked one of the spectators
hopefully, her eyes glittering. "And some ammo?"

"Come on Sharon," Jill soothed.  "Nick's not here.  Let's get back
home."

"Let's get out of here," Kelly agreed, moving towards her car. She
smiled suggestively at The Guy Look-alike, and was rewarded by a shift
in Sharon's attention.

"Grrrrrrrrrrr."

A dangerous shift, but a shift nonetheless.

"Here, Sharon," she held out the car keys, her hand shaking ever so
slightly. Don't show fear. Don't ever show that you are afraid. "Why
don't you take my car, and we can all go back to the NatPack Hostel.
We've got salt."

"And beer!" interjected Pod.  "Lots of beer."

"Salt." Sharon smacked her lips. "Beer." She grabbed Kelly's keys and
started towards the car, but Kelly beat her to the driver's side door
and pushed the seat forward.

"Why don't you and The--" she looked into the interior of the car and
addressed the man who had been taking the scene in silently, "Uh, you
sir...why don't you guys sit in the backseat."  She smiled helpfully
at Sharon.  "It's crowded back there."

The other NatPackers breathed a hearty sigh of relief when Sharon and
TG-L were settled calmly in the backseat, and they headed towards the
limo gratefully.


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


THE GIFT
by ??? aka The Cow
Idalia Kakesako  <idaliak@ix.netcom.com>
TimeKeeper and Comma Queen for the N&NPack

Monday, 29 July 1996    8:00pm
The Raven, Toronto, Ontario


The Cow appproached the front door of the Raven and knocked lightly.
An annoyed Immortal Beloved opened the door and was shocked to find a
person in a cow suit standing there with a box in hand. It took the
Immortal Beloved less than a minute to realize that this was the
Cousins' Cow.

"What can I do for you?" asked the IB.

"I have a package for the Immortal Beloveds and Raven/ettes from
Lacroix and the Cousins," responded the Cow.

"Oh....come in," suggested the Immortal Beloved with a little
unsureness in her voice.

The Cow followed her inside. The Cow then handed the Immortal Beloved
the package and the accompanying card. The IB opened up the card and
read it.

        "This is a token of my appreciation for your loyalty to my
daughter Janette. Loyalty of mere mortals such as yourselves is, I
must admit is important to the vampire community,  without which no
vampire except myself could survive. I do hope you tune into listen to
my radio show nightly.  --LACROIX"

The Immortal Beloved placed the card on the bar, then opened the box
of chocolates.  Her eyes widened in delight.  Cautiously she took one
of the confections from the box and smelled it.  She slowly bit into
the chocolate, and the delicious flavour burst into her mouth. The IB
sighed and reached for another piece.

In between bites, she called the rest of the Immortal Beloveds and
Raven/ettes over. The Cow watched as they swarmed over the chocolates.
The Cow swore that the crowd must not have eaten in months, the way
they gobbled down the chocolates! Within minutes the box was empty.

Suddenly the IB who had first eaten the chocolate doubled over,
grabbing her stomach and moaning.  Soon the others joined the cry.
The Cow smiled triumphantly at their first signs of illness.  "You
actually thought," the Cow said, "that Lacroix and Cousins would send
you a gift? This is war and Lacroix and the Cousins thank no one. You
will all be asleep for the next 12 hours, and when that wears off
you'll be spending the next 3 or 4 hours in the washroom with the
runs. I hope you learned a valuable lesson today."

Snickering, the Cow walked out of the Raven as IBs and Raven/ettes ran
for the nearest toilets.


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


Decorating the Raven
by Judith Freudenthal (DanaKnight@aol.com)
Time - After the Ravens and IB's eat the chocolate given to them by a
cow.
Place - Toronto, The Raven & N&Npack headquarters.

Four N&Npackers parked outside the Raven in a large delivery truck.
On the side was a magnetic sign which had the logo and name of a
furniture store on it (one that the Ravenettes would use/did use).

"Does everyone know their parts?"  Judy asked.  She was grateful for
the drugged chocolates as it allowed her to be in on this bit of
mischief. Especially since she was one of the main instigators of it. 
"Does everyone have everything?"

Judy saw the nods.  She quickly checked over everyone to make sure
that everything was just so.

"Then let the redecorating commence!"  Judy said as back doors opened.
She donned her baseball cap that would help hide her face and watched
as the poly coating was taken into the club.

The unconscious Ravenettes and Immortal Beloveds were carefully
carried to the back room so that work could commence without having to
step over the bodies.

"How long does this stuff take to dry?" Kelly asked.

"Hours.  Let's get the furniture in place first then we'll put this
down. We'll make sure it gets under the furniture as well."

Some of the furniture was quite colorful, definitely not standard
Raven decor.  Rather perky, actually.

A few hours passed as the club was completely redecorated.  Smiley
faces, butterflies and daisies were put everywhere.  There were even a
few cute bunnies pasted on the walls.  The club was just so perky.
The colors were also very happy bright colors like yellow, red, sky
blue.

The very last thing that was done was the poly stuff on the floor.
Smiley faces, and daisies were pressed into the stuff.  The sticky
stuff was placed under all the furniture and on all the walls as well.
It wouldn't do to have everything easily removable.  It would take
major work to scrape the walls and floors clean.  Just so that every
angle would be taken care of a giant flourescent smiley face was
painted on the ceiling.  It would not be noticed until the lights were
turned out.

The N&Npackers looked around satisfied with their work and left.  To
make the most out of it they mounted a micro camera in a spot where it
would never be found.  They headed out before anyone could catch them.

Judy sat in the truck monitoring things.  She had a laptop which was
hooked up to recieve the incoming color images.  What she saw
impressed her.

Her crew reentered the truck and they took off.

"Great work!  Now we just sit back and relax."


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


Decorating the Raven 2/2
by Judith Freudenthal
Date and time are the same as in part one.

The Ravenettes and Immortal Beloveds slowly awoke from the drugged
chocolates.  They were a little disoriented at first.  Soon enough the
other part of the sickness hit sending them fleeing to the bathrooms.

Once they began to feel better they headed out for the main room of
the Raven.  Someone flipped on a light.  Screams could be heard
throughout the building, making any able bodies come running who
weren't already occupied.

Language which would make a sailor blush came out of their mouths as
they saw the decor.  A brave Ravenette stepped onto the floor to start
undecorating the place.  Further shock crossed her face as she
realized she was stuck to the floor.  Others came to help their friend
and found themselves stuck as well.

Meanwhile back at N&N headquarters the camera's picture had been piped
to the large screen tv.  Everyone was glued to the screen laughing so
hard they had tears running down their faces and their sides felt as
if they would explode at any moment.

"Who do you think did this?"  A Ravenette asked.

One quick look around told them all they needed to know.  "Who else
would put smiley faces, and all this other perky crap?"  Another
Ravenette answered.


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


Lifting the Book
Monday, around 9pm, right after ROM-ing in the Gloaming
Partly K

Partly stood in the corner of the bar at the ROM opening.  She had
enjoyed the art, the food, and the free drinks but she still wasn't
having a reall good tie.  She kept expecting to see Tracy's ghost
hovering about, and kept expecting to start getting phone calls from
her dead friend.  For dead she was, Partly was sure of that.  She had
managed to get a copy of the death certificate, burial permit and
autopsy report.  Depressing, grusome reading, it convinced her that
what ever was going on it could be Tracy.

At least that's what Partly kept telling her self.

Right now, she was adding more torture to the night by watching
Tracy's father.  He had made the rounds, still accepting condolenses
on his daughters death, smiled, talked, and was now at the bar
drinking.  His drinking companion looked familiar.  Partly frown and
tried to place the face.  It was...  Lisa McDavid.  Counsin Lisa!
What was she doing here. Partly edged closer to overhear the
conversation.

"I'll have a Zombie Beachcomber myself."  The Commissioner was saying.
"I need it. I.A. finally released Tracy's things from her desk."

"It was a terrible tragedy," Lisa said.  Partly thought she detected
true regret in those words.  From what she knew Lisa was an honorable
cousin. "They never found her partner, either, did they?"  Lisa asked.

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 still sounded casual, but Partly listened closer.  She
hid behind a large man was was drinking a beer and looking very
uncomfortable in a tux.

"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.

"May I see it? I used to be a rare book librarian."  Partly watched
Lisa examine it.  She had heard rumours that the Knighties were
looking for a book, maybe this was it.

Lisa spoke again.  "The binding's 17th century Spanish and these look
like Mayan glyphs to me. It could be very important."  It could be
true, Partly thought, but you never know what to believe when there is
a war on. And besides, it wouldn't do to have the cousins -- and
LaCriox -- getting ahold of Nicks stuff.  Besides, it had been Tracy's
after all.

Partly watched at Lisa expertly worked her way into Commissioner
Vetters ood graces  --  she even introduced him to LaCriox!  -- and
patiently watched for an opening.

It came when Lisa excused herself to go to the Ladies room.  Grabing a
leather bound wine list from the bar, Partly staggered toward the
unsupecting Commissioner.  Bumping into him, she manageded to pour
most of her drind down his front.

"Oh, my God!  I am so sorry,"  She blurted.  Nervousness made her
hands shake.  She wiped at his tux with a large cloth napkin that she
also carried, keeping up a streem of appologies and ignoring his
protests.  Just when he began to push her away, she managed to swicth
the wine list for the book in his coat.

The slight crowd that gathered began to disapate and Partly dashed for
the corner to put her book in her purse.  At least the Cousins won't
get it, she thought.


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


Book 'em, Dan-o
by Kristina Buhrman

July 29, around 9pm, during and right after "Lifting the Book"
ROM exhibit on Brabant

Kristina had been the last of the Perkulators to actually enter the
museum, as she was carrying a huge stack of paper which blocked her
view, making getting up the front steps fairly difficult. "Remind me,
*oof*" she asked herself, "Just whatever possessed me to volunteer to
translate something from Catalan to Esperanto?" The coat-checker soon
found himself suddenly buried by computer print-outs, while Kristina
dusted off her hands and wandered around the exhibit.


Frederic found her about half an hour later trying to convince a guard
to unlock the case to one of the rare books. He made some apologies to
the guard and dragged her off. "How'm I supposed to finish my project
on Brabantish if they don' allow me to look at some sources, huh?"
Kristina muttered.

"Have you been drinking?" Frederic asked suddenly.

"Um, erm..." She held her fingers about two inches apart. "Just a
little. Not much, I swear. In fact, I think I could use another just
about now..." Frederic steered her away from the bar, where
Commisioner Vetter and... Cousin Lisa? were talking. However, at the
mere mention of Mayan hieroglyphs, Kristina broke away and veered
straight for them. She came back later with two glasses of Merlot.
"False alarm. No actual hieroglyphs that I could see," she said,
handing a glass to him. "Gift shop?" she asked politely, walking off
before he even had a chance to answer.

In the gift shop (amazingly open, despite or perhaps because of, the
gala) Kristina headed straight for the books and started leafing
through them, while Frederic looked at a few reproduction prints of
paintings in the museum. Amazingly, a large number had yellow smiley
faces added in; some sort of gag gift thing, he guessed.

There was a display table nearby that Frederic jostled with his elbow
as he turned the prints, and something fell off. Frederic noticed that
it was a handsewn leather blank journal. "Hey, look at this."

Kristina walked over, balancing a large number of books between her
arms and her chin. "Wuh?" ('Grimorum Arcanorum' Frederick read off of
one of them, or was that 'Grimorum Magnorum P.I.'? Another one was
something called 'The Nife and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter,
Witch'; another, 'A Survey of Nivkh Grammar'. He shook his head.)

Frederic held up the book. "Doesn't this look like the description of
that brown book the Knighties are supposed to be looking for?"

She put down her books and picked up his. "Yeah, I guess..."

"Kristina, are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"Um, sure, but isn't Antartica a rather large continent?"

"No, no, no." Frederic also picked up a gold leaf embossing kit. "Now
do you get the idea?"

"Oh!" She nodded enthusiastically. "Souvenirs are always nice..."

Frederic slapped himself on the forehead.


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


Bonfire of the Vanities
by Mei Kwong, Linda Rose Pierce, K. S. Gritten, and the NatPack
Time:  Monday, July 29, about 9 pm
Place:  NatPack Hostel

"Look who's here!" the entering NatPackers cried, with Sharon and TG-L
in tow.

"Sharon!" exclaimed a group sitting around the television set. In
front of them, a movie flickered on the screen. Others were gathered
around a table playing Operation.

"Hello, all!" Sharon waved.

Jill's attention, however, had been drawn by the gruesome events on
the television screen. "Halloween?" she exclaimed, surprised.

Amy took a long gulp from a glass of clear liquid, and shrugged.
"Jennie chose it. Not really sure why. Something about pumpkins."

A few of the Babylon 5 fans, however, were staring after Sharon's
companion, whom she had dragged with her off to the kitchen in search
of beer.

"Is that...?" Lynn asked.

The NatPackers home from the exhibit sniggered. "No, he's our
chauffeur," Kelly chuckled, before she plucked Amy's glass from her
hand and headed to the kitchen with it. "You need some vegetables in
that, Amy. Let me find you some nice tomato to add to it. It'll give
it more nutritional value."

Jennie, lounging on the couch, greeted the newcomers calmly. "I
figured that Sharon would turn up eventually.  Grab a seat." She
shifted a little to allow Jill to join herself and Betsy on the couch.

"This place is a mess," Jill said, surveying the living room. "I wish
that Maureen were here--she keeps everything so neat."

"Harrumph," said Sharon B., who had had Maureen pick up her feet to
vacuum under them, and admonish her about using coasters on tables in
the not-so-recent past.

"Personally, I think that Maureen has been acting a little too 'neat
freakish' lately," Betsy complained. "It's weird.  I wonder--" She
broke off suddenly. "Hey! Did you see that?"

"What?" Lynn asked. "Where?"

"Over there in the corner," Betsy pointed. "I thought that I saw
something...or someone."

"Speaking of weird," Alora muttered to Linda Rose, as they began
arranging candles around the room. Betsy shook her head a little as if
to clear it, and shrugged.

"So how was the exhibit?" Leslie asked.

"We ran into a couple of Knighties," Jill yawned. "They wanted to know
where Nat was. And it sounded as if Nick has been in touch with them."
She purposely kept her voice low to avoid attracting the attention of
Sharon in the kitchen. She could not help but grin, however. "If Nick
is in town, I hope that he goes by Nat's place looking for his stuff."

The other NatPackers chuckled with a dark overtone that would have
made the Cousins proud, and felt themselves slipping into yet another
group flashback...

********

Place:  NatPack HQ
Time:  Not long after "Last Knight"

Jill looked up into the night sky and sighed. It had been such a short
time since they found Natalie at Nick's apartment that evening. She
shivered at the thought, but blamed it on the cool night air. Darn
Nick. They had missed the Shakespeare. Even worse, they had been in
the midst of a Cult of Skinner meeting when they realized that Natalie
was late.... Interrupting a CoS meeting; quite frankly, that was
unforgivable.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of the others. She turned
at the sound and asked, "You got everything?"

Linda Rose grinned. "Oh yeah. We cleaned out Nat's place of his stuff
completely."

Linda, Alora and many other Natpackers were dragging several large
trashbags behind them as they entered the backyard of the highly
secured and top secret headquarters of The Pack.

Jill looked approvingly at her fellow members. "Serves the blond brick
right. I must say it was a stroke of genius to clean Nat's apartment
out of EVERYTHING belonging to Nick and a bunch of photos of him too."

The possessions of the blond one were dumped into a common pile. Jill
shivered again. "It's too cold tonight."

"Hmmmmm," Alora purred, "There are some graham crackers, marshmallows,
and of course chocolate inside. Thinking what I'm thinking?"

"Ohhh," enthused GT, "S'mores. Let's do it."

"I'll start the fire!" volunteered Linda Rose, perhaps a bit too
eagerly.

While the other Packers entered the house to get the required
ingredients, Linda began to gather the fuel and clear an area. Someone
in the house turned on the stereo and put on the "Greatest Hits of the
Doors."

Darling we can't get much higher
Come on baby light my fire.....

Her face serene, Linda knelt almost revently before the small pile of
wood and fuel she had constructed. With the touch of a match, the
debris caught and a lovely orange glow sprang to life. Singing along
with Jim Morrison, she strolled over to the pile of material objects
that belonged to one Nicholas de Brabant. Absently she picked up a
black shirt and launched it into the air. It arced gracefully and
fluttered in the middle of the fire.  Like Michael Jordan shooting
jump shots, Linda began to pitch Nick's possessions into the flames.
The funeral pyre for Nicholas de Brabant's belongings began to grow
and gather strength.  She reveled in the warmth and the glow lit her
angelic face in its radiance. Her hand strayed absently into a bag and
pulled out a little brown book that she herself had found secreted
away in a box of kleenex.

"This is next!" Linda cried. She and Mei began to rip out the pages
filled with names, addresses, and what looked like bank numbers and
passwords.  They handed them to Alora who, with a smooth toss that
would have made Cal Ripken envious, hurled them into the heart of the
bonfire.

Watching them burn, Jennie cooed, "Look at the lovely orange flames."

"Hang on, you've got a thread," Maureen leaned over to pluck it off
Jennie's shirt, "a bright red one. It was standing out against the
black. Looked very messy."

Meanwhile, Sharon, cackling maniacally began tossing all the photos
that the Pack had scavenged into the fire. "Burn Nick, burn, burn!!!"
she chanted from the other side of the bonfire. Beside her, Leslie
counted the flaming photos one by three.

"Linda!" Jill yelled from behind her.

Slightly startled and a little bemused, Linda Rose turned to her
friend, her face completely innocent.

"The fire is big enough."

"I guess so," Linda agreed, "Someone get the s'mores."

**********

They shook their heads collectively, sending the remnants of the
flashback skittering away.

Jennie yawned dramatically.  "Well, I don't know about you guys, but I
think a couple hours of Babylon 5 and some of the All-Skinner channel
will put me at bedtime." She looked down at her hand, which had been
absently scratching at some hives on her arm until it turned bright
red. "Though I am going to need to take some Benadryl and that will
probably knock me out like a light." She smiled. "Still, I'm game.
Anyone else?"

"Oh good!" Amparo squealed, "Cap'n Skippy!"  She paused for a second,
however.  "He's not as gorgeous as Nick, of course... but then who
is?"

Her prattling was cut off by a deluge of pillows flung from various
parts of the room.


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


Nightmares
By:  The Raven/ettes
Date:  July 29, 1996
Time:  9:30 p.m.
Place:  The Raven
Immediately following The Gift and Redecorating the Raven, Redux


Jessica wiped the sleep out of her eyes and wandered out to the front
of the bar.  The Raven/ettes were huddled around the stage, talking
animatedly about the evening's excitement with Cynthia and Janette and
no one noticed Jess, or her obvious distress.

She continued to wander about the bar, checking under tables and
examining furniture and touching the walls.  Clearly, something was
bothering her, but she was reluctant to share it in a room full of
almost total strangers.

"Want to tell me about it?" asked Lorelei.  "Sometimes it helps to
talk it out, you know."

"I don't know."  Jessica shook her head.  "I want my mommy.  Where is
she?"

"I think she's out trying to find Cynthia and Jane.  It might help to
talk," Lorelei tried again.

"There was this cow -- and it came to the front door of the Raven
bearing chocolates from Lacroix."

"Chocolates?  Why would anyone bring us chocolates?  Everyone knows
that most Raven/ettes don't eat them?"  Lorelei laughed.

"I don't know.  It was just a dream.  Dreams don't have to make sense,
you know."

"I know.  Go on."

"Anyway, the chocolates were poisoned or something like that, and we
all got sick from them.  Then, when we were unconscious, the
Nick&NatPackers came in and re-decorated the Raven ... with smiley
faces and butterflies and daisies and something that looked like
bunnies.  It was horrible."  Jessica shuddered again.  "They even used
bright, shiny colours."

Lorelei reached for Jessica and held her tight.  "It's okay sweetie.
It was just a dream.  Not even the Nick&NatPackers would be that
nasty."


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


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


Where: The Museum
 Time: After the exhibition about 9:30ish

The pair of Knighties had just stepped into the taxi that would take
them back to the loft.  Both had decided, intelligently not to drive
the caddy after drinking all that champagne.  "I sure hope Perri and
Cath aren't mad."

"What they would be mad about would be us driving the caddy back and
wrecking it."  Nancy reminded Robbi.

"Cut the chatter and tell me where you're going."  The taxi driver cut
in.

"I hope you know Nick's address, cause I can't remember it."  Nancy
turned to her companion with pleading eyes.

"Gee, I can't remember so well.  Driver, do you know a former homicide
detective by the name of Nick Knight?"  Robbi questioned the driver.

"Look lady, if you don't know where you're going get out.  I have
plenty of other paying customers waiting for my services."

"Just a minute,"  She made a quick intake of air.  "I just remembered,
I wrote the address in my trusty address book.  Unlike Nick, I know
where mine is."  She reached into her purse and pulled out a small
yellow book covered with flowers.  "Ah hah.  K, where are you K.  Here
you are,  Nicholas Knight 101 Gateway."

The driver turned around and immediately headed for the address that
had been provided him.

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

Where: Nick's Loft
 Time: A few minutes later

Robbi paid and accidently, without realizing gave the driver a twenty
as a tip thinking she was handing him a one.  This made the driver
understandably happy.

While she was paying, Nancy had opened the door and sort of fell out. 
Her buddy scooted across the seat and didn't look where she was going.
They both ended up on the pavement in a tangled mess.  Neither of them
could help it and they started to giggle uncontrollably.

>From the loft above,  Cath looked out the window.  "What's all the
commotion."  Spying what she hoped wasn't her stray Knghties, she,
Perri and a couple others ran for the lift.

"Thanks, driver.  You can go now."  Perri got rid of the taxi driver
who was trying to get paid again.

She turned back to the two women who had been helped to their feet.
They sobered noticeably.  "I suppose you had a good time."  She said
with her arms crossed in front of her.

They both shook their head affirmatively.   Both started to speak at
the same time and no one could understand a word being said.

Cath held up her hand and there was silence again.  "Let's get you
upstairs and get some coffee into you and maybe you can tell us what
happened.

"By the way, where's the caddy.  You didn't wreck it, did you?"  Perri
inquired as she stood by Cath.  She could feel her heart jump up into
her throat.  <Boy, would Nick *kill* two particular Knighties if he
found out.>

Nancy shook her head guiltily.  "We didn't want to drive in our
condition."

"Wise choice.  Give me the keys and tell me where you left it and I'll
send someone to fetch it." Perri took the keys from Robbi.  She picked
a couple of the Knigties who were watching to go get the caddy and
bring it back before something happened to it.

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

Where: Inside the Loft
 Time: about a half hour later

A small group of Knighties had formed around the pair as they drank
the coffee that had been offered them and related their story.  "We
can't leave that painting on display.  Nick's honor is at stake."
Nancy pleaded.  "We have to hire a Merc to steal it and bring it to
us."

"What if someone recognizes him?"  Robbi commented, hoping to add
weight to their case.

"Then we could have it all for ourselves.  I could take it home for
safe keeping."  Dotti Rhodes chimed in with a wicked grin on her face.

Sandra disagreed with them, "Shame on you for wanting to steal
something!"

Perri let out a sigh, "I don't think this is a very good idea.
Remember why we are here and what we need to do.  This would be too
distracting.  This is the Nineties for heaven's sake, no one will give
it another thought."

"I have to agree with Perri on that one.  It wouldn't be very
honorable to steal the painting."  Cath added.

There was scattering of disappointed groans from the group.

"Don't despair."  She held up a hand.  "Everyone that wants to go to
the exhibit can go tomorrow.  It will be open to the public.  "Sandra,
you can organize that."  Cath turned back to the pair of returnees and
asked,  "Did you recognize anyone from the other affiliations?"

"Yes.  We talked to a couple from the NatPack.  One looked an awfully
lot like Janette."  answered Nancy.

The pair of Knighties related the conversation they had had earlier
with Jill and Kelly.

The Knightie leaders sat in silence, pondering the new information.
"That's not a whole lot to go on.  What do you think."  Perri turned
to Cath.

"Well, I'd say they know where Nat is, but it *seems* she's not in
Toronto. If she were, they would have seen her sometime lately.  That
is, of course if they were telling the truth, which I'm sure parts of
it are out and out lies.  I'm only gonna say *seems*, 'cause she might
just have contact with a certain few NatPackers, even though all of
them might know where she is."

"Mind games again." Perri laughed and Cath nodded her head.


end


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


Sock It To Me, Baby
July 29th, about 10 PM
The Morrigna Sisters Secret Hideout
Toronto

"Did you really have to blindfold us?" Kira groused.  Trusting their
fellow Merc to lead them safely went against her instincts.

"Now, I'd hardly harm you when I have need of you, would I?" Lizbet
said slyly.  She unlocked the door of the command center, deserted now
that erica and Bianca were off doing... something.

She maneuvered Liz's chair inside, helped Kira stumble in, shut the
door and turned on the lights.  "OK, you can remove your blindfolds
now."  The two Mercs blinked and looked around at the small but well-
equipped area.

"Nice," Liz said, "But why did you bring us here?  Wherever--here--
is."

Lizbet smiled.  Obviously, the hidden command center was well-hidden
indeed.  "Because I didn't want anyone to overhear our plans.  Are you
ready to hear what I have for you?"

"Definitely!" Liz said.  "You've been mysterious all along."

Lizbet perched on the table that held a computer a fax machine and
said reasonably, "I need you two to help me steal all the socks in
Toronto."

The two Mercs gaped at her.  "Um.  Socks?  Did you say *socks*?"  Liz
asked.

"*ALL* the socks?" Kira asked.

"Well, all the socks of people in the fac--uh, affiliations."

"Why?" Kira demanded.

Lizbet folded her hands in her lap and looked innocent.  "Because,
that's what I've been hired to do."

Kira rolled her eyes.  "Clear as mud," she muttered.  "OK, what do you
want us to do?"

Lizbet held a piece of paper out to each of the Mercs.  "This is a
list of all the affiliations and their headquarters.  There are 11.
We need to split them up between us, invade them and get all their
socks."

Liz studied hers.  "I'll take the NatPack and the Vanqueras," she
offered.

Kira added, "And I'll take the Cousins and Perkulators.  If the
Perkulators are *in* Toronto, that is," she muttered under her breath.

"I'll cover the Knighties and the Woofpack," Lizbet checked her list.
"That's six.  What about the other five?"

Liz offered, "I'll handle the Immortal Beloveds and the Nick&NatPack."

"OK, then I'll take care of the DieHards and the Mercs," Kira said.

"Be careful, Kira," Lizbet warned.  "Remember that you can't *steal*
from your own Guild members.  Trick them, yes.  Steal, no."

"Gotcha."  Kira grinned.  "Is that all?"

Lizbet nodded.  "I'll do the Ravenettes.  I've been wanting to get
into the Raven.  Yup, that's it."

"Wait," Liz said.  We haven't discussed payment yet.

Lizbet raised an eyebrow.  "Mercenary Rule of Acquisition number
eighteen: A Mercenary without profit is no Mercenary at all.  Well?
What are your demands?"

"One piece dark or Belgian chocolate per sock, rounded up to the next
full box," Liz said immediately.

"Done.  Kira, what about you?"

"I can have *anything*, right?" Kira asked.

"Anything within reason," Lizbet said cautiously.  She still had this
minor cash-flow problem that this job was going to do *nothing* to
help.

"OK.  What I want is a full set of gourmet kitchen knives.  That's
seven knives and a whet stone."

"Knives?  You want me to give you knives?"  Lizbet said weakly.  The
idea of sharp objects in the hands of a Merc was a little frightening.

"I'll be paying my rent by cooking 3 meals a week for the entire
guild," Kira explained.  "Deal?"

"Deal,"  Lizbet agreed.  "Bring the socks to this address by Wednesday
evening."  She handed Liz a slip of paper with the address of the
house she had rented for the Fang Gang on it.  Kira, being a member of
the Fang Gang, already had it.  "Now put on your blindfolds again.  I
have to take you back."


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


The lonely Knightie arrives in TO

Time : 10 pm. Monday Morning July 29
Place: TO Airport

*********************************************************
She hated to fly. It made her paranoid. If it wasn't for the soothing
sounds of the Bryan Duncan that had come out of her cd player, and the
fact that she had those nude pictures of David to look at during the
flight, she would have totally lost it. She was cranky, and tired, and
she still wasn't over the *Assault of the _Killer_ Rock Band* from
Sunday morning.

Departing the plane, the sun hurt her eyes. She couldn't find her
sunglasses  in her backpack or her carry on. What a nightmare this had
been. From having the airline call to make sure her American Express
was good, to the long and drawn out flight, to all the plane switches
she had to make to get here... it wasn't pretty. And she still hadn't
heard *anything* from the Knighties, even though she was sure she had
e-mailed them about wanting to join up with them. It was a fiasco all
in all.

She walked to the luggage claim, knowing that the way things were
going, she wouldn't see her duffle bag for days. Well hell, she
thought, they won't be sending that stuff down the chute for a while,
she should go in search of a Pepsi(tm) Nectar of the Supreme Power
(whoever He or She might be).

Checking with an employee of the airline, she dug out about three
dollars in change from various pockets and hiding places, made sure
her wallet was secured in her front pocket, and took off in search of
her morning caffeine fix...


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


The Vampire Sex Bar (1/2)
by Jane Credland (with input from Tami, Tara, Catherine, Felicia and
Cynthia)
Date: Monday, July 29, 1996 (around 10:30 to 11:30 pm)
Place:  Sanctuary on Queen Street West

Two cabs pulled up from opposite directions in front of Sanctuary --
Toronto's own vampire sex bar. The doors of the first one opened and
Raven/ettes spilled elegantly out onto the sidewalk.  Then the doors
to the second one opened and Jane crawled out.  She had tried to spill
out elegantly, but hadn't been a Raven long enough to get the hang of
it.  To make matters worse, she followed this by hauling on her dress
as she stood up, trying to pull it down.  She had no idea how it had
managed to twist itself around in such a quick cab ride.  The dress
was supposed to be short, but this was ridiculous.

Cynthia slid out behind her and smiled wickedly.  "Need some help?"

"I'm fine.  Just fine."  Jane snapped, aggravated by her inability to
get the darned thing straight.  Dressing in full Raven/ette style had
seemed like such a good idea the other day, when Catherine, Felicia
and Tami had dragged her with them to check out Madam Strang's House
of Ill-Repute.

Cynthia shrugged and moved away to join the rest of the group.  "Suit
yourself.  You were the one who wanted to get all dressed up,
remember.  You could have just worn black jeans like me."

"It's a goth bar ... even if it is a low budget one.  And I've always
wanted to dress up in full goth style."  Jane muttered to herself as
she finally got the clinging black velvet to hang the way it was
supposed to.  Heaving a sigh of relief, she hastened over to the
others.

"What happened to the two of you?  We waited as long as we could, then
decided to follow Tara's advice and meet you here."  Tami stuck her
hands on her hips and glared at them.  Unfortunately, the effect was
spoiled by the grin on her face.

Cynthia responded edgily, "We went to see the Brabant exhibit at the
Museum. I wanted to see Garden of Delights.  And I needed to get out
of the Raven and away from Janette."

"Shall we go in?"  Jane changed the subject before Cynthia could start
ranting about the unfair demands of a certain female vampire.

"This is the place?"  Tara eyed the grungy bouncer suspiciously.
Dressed in a black t-shirt with the Sanctuary logo, torn jeans
(definitely from wear not fashionably ripped) and scuffed biker boots,
he bore no resemblance to the classier gentlemen who had once stood
guard outside the doors of the Raven.

"This is it."  Catherine brushed imaginary lint off her little black
dress, and tucked her duck-headed, magenta-coloured umbrella firmly
under her arm -- the weather forecast called for rain and she wasn't
taking any chances that it would turn her hair into a bedraggled mess.
"We warned you it wasn't in the same league as the Raven."

"Is that what I think it is?"  Lana took a step backwards and pointed
at the doorway.  The skirt of her 40's style dress swung attractively
as she moved.

"What?"  Tami followed the direction of Lana's finger with her eyes.

Lana's voice shook with outrage.  "There's a cross hanging over the
door. That... that's..."  She floundered, unable to find the right
words.

"A bit odd for a bar where vampires hang out."  Felicia finished
helpfully. "Then again, they probably have their own entrance in the
back."

"I don't know about this."  Lana said doubtfully.  "This might not
have been such a good idea."

Felicia grabbed Lana's arm and pulled her in the same direction as
everyone else.  "Come on.  It'll be fine.  We'll take care of you."

With Catherine, Jane and Cynthia taking the lead, the Raven/ettes
ignored the short lineup and walked towards the entrance.  When they
got close, the bouncer put a thickly muscled arm out and barred their
way.  With a sneer, he pointed to the back of the line.  Catherine and
Jane exchanged glances. Now what?  They hadn't had any problems
getting in last time ... and that had been a Saturday night.

"Janette sent us."  Tara pushed forward.  "Janette DuCharme from the
Raven. She said the owner would let us right in."

"Janet sent you, huh?  Izzat s'posed to mean somethin'."

"*Janette*.  Her name is *Janette*."  Tara growled.

"Alright.  No need to get all uptight, eh.  Lemme check."  The bouncer
got a tattered, handwritten list from his back pocket and checked it
carefully, mouthing the words as he read.  Eventually, he dropped his
arm and said grudgingly, "She's on the list.  I guess it's okay to let
you in."

Inside it became increasingly obvious that Sanctuary was no Raven.
The walls and ceiling were decorated in early industrial, to match the
music which pounded from the dance floor.  The club was very dimly
lit, with almost all the light provided by the fixtures over the two
pool tables which had pride of place in the middle of the floor.  The
patrons ranged from pvc, leather and velvet clad goths to shaven-
headed grungies with their barely clad girlfriends.  Most of them were
so pale that it was nearly impossible to tell mortal from vampire.

Tami and Cynthia moved forward to grab a large table that was being
vacated by a group of slumming suburbanites, instantly recognizable --
and rendered completely out of place -- by their Gap attire.  The
Raven/ettes filled the bench and the chairs, and sat quietly for a few
minutes, looking around.

//Is that Lillian at the back?// Jane thought.  It certainly looked
like her, and that was definitely the dress that Lil was showing off
when she and Cynthia were visiting her in Chicago.  Jane squinted, but
as soon as she tried to focus on Lillian, she faded into the
background and disappeared.

"Interesting place."  Tami played with the caduceus that hid among the
ruffles of her burgundy poet shirt.  "I can see Vachon fitting in
perfectly, but I'm not so sure about Miklos."

"I need a drink."  Lana leaned back into bench.  "Service is slow
around here.  How long does it take for a waitperson to get here?"

"Umm... they don't actually have table service here."  Jane swung her
leg. She was stuck between Lana and Cynthia.  There wasn't enough room
to sit cross-legged, and she could never get comfortable sitting in
any of the usual positions.  "We have to get our own drinks."

"Oooh.  Look!"  Catherine spotted a couple of goths with long black
hair, poet shirts (one in black, the other white) and kilts.  She
sighed happily, "Men in kilts, and with great legs too.  Don't you
just love them."

"Not particularly."  Cynthia slammed one hand down on Jane's leg to
keep it still.  "So, who's going to the bar?"

"I'll go, but not by myself."  Tara pushed her chair back a little.

"I'll come.  What does everyone want?"  Jane removed Cynthia's hand
and squeezed between her and the table.

"A cherry coke, please."  Lana jumped in.

Tami thought briefly.  "Absolut vodka with a twist."

"Ginger ale.  In a sealed bottle.  If they don't have that, then
mineral water, as long as the bottle hasn't been opened."  Cynthia
pulled out her inhaler, thinking that coming to a bar might not have
been the best idea. She still hadn't recovered from all the cleaning
solutions at the Raven; there wasn't a lot of smoke at Sanctuary, but
there was enough to bother her.

"One of *them*.  Preferably the one in the black shirt."  Catherine
smiled back at her chosen prey.

The two men conferred briefly, then one of them wound his way over to
the Raven/ette table, stopping between Catherine and Felicia.  "Hi.
My friend and I were wondering if you and your friend would like to
dance."

"Of course we would."  Felicia stood up before Catherine could say
anything. "Wouldn't we, Catherine?"

"Sure.  Why not."

As Catherine and Felicia disappeared in the direction of the dance
floor, flanked by their new "friends", Jane and Tara walked over to
the bar.  Tara used her elbows and pushed rapidly through the crowds
to the front.

"What'll it be ladies?"  The bartender definitely wasn't Miklos.  He
was also the first goth they'd seen with a tan.  Golden brown skin and
black curly chest hair peeked through his Dr. Frankenfurter lace-up
corset.

"Absolut with a twist, a diet coke, a ginger ale in an unopened bottle
or can ... Tara, what're you having?"

"Gin and tonic.  Oh, and don't forget the cherry coke."

"A cherry coke?"  The bartender repeated disbelievingly.  "Someone
comes to a place like this and wants a cherry coke?"

"Yes, a cherry coke.  Is there a problem?"  Tara leaned against the
bar.

"No problem. None at all."  He hummed with amusement as he got the
drinks together.

Tara grabbed her, Lana and Tami's drinks while Jane paid.  "I'll see
you back at the table."

"Sure."  Jane was shoved back against the bar and the change grabbed
from her hand before she could close it.  Noxious fumes reminiscent of
the sewers made her eyes water.

"I fink that lolly's mine, girly-wirly.  That and more of the pretty
polly. You niver paid up what you owed for 'elping you 'unt down the
ol' gen'ral. No-one, breather or vamp, gets away with shivin' old
Screed."


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


The Vampire Sex Bar (2/2)
by Jane Credland (with help from Tara and Cynthia)
Date: Monday, July 29, 1996 (after 11 pm)
Takes place directly after The Vampire Sex Bar (1/2)

Note to timeline keeper:  both parts of The Vampire Sex Bar take place
after An Excuse to See a Garden of Delights (1 and 2)



Tara looked back over her shoulder when she heard Jane's squawk of
surprise. She recognized the bald headed vampire immediately.
Hesitating for a moment, she decided that discretion was the better
part of valour -- not to mention that four Raven/ettes were more
intimidating than one -- and hurried back to the table.

"Thanks."  Tami grabbed her drink from Tara before she could open her
mouth. "So, did the bartender know anything about Miklos?"

"Uhh... I forgot to ask."  Tara craned her neck, but couldn't see the
bar from the Raven/ette table.  "I think we might have a slight
problem."

"Problem?"  Cynthia leaned forward and followed Tara's gaze.  "What
kind of problem? And where's Jane?"

***

Around the corner, the object of Cynthia's inquiry smashed the heel of
her shoe into Screed's foot.  "Ow.  Damn it! That hurt!"  Jane shook
her foot carefully, and re-thought the concept of stiletto heeled
shoes.  They might kill her toes, but they definitely did more damage
than the low ones she normally wore.

"Quit yer crarkin'.  I haven't done owt to you yet."  Screed got a
better grip on Jane's arm and dragged her over to a dark corner at the
end of the bar.  "An' if yer've got any mozges upstairs, I won't."

"What do you want?"  She pulled her arm free and rubbed the marks left
behind by the carouche's fingers.

"Me green.  What you owes me fer takin' you and yer pally-wallies
gallivanting through t'tunnels last year."

"Gallivanting?  Tunnels?"  So much had happened in the last five or
six months that it took Jane a moment to remember back to the past
year.  "You mean the search for Lacroix.  I thought ... you know,
you're right.  We never did pay you the second half of your money."

Screed growled and leaned over Jane, baring his fangs.

***

"Where.  Is.  Jane?"  Cynthia growled, repeating her question slowly. 
Her temper flared back up again -- she still hadn't calmed down from
the confrontation with Janette a few hours earlier.

Tara gulped her drink and tried once more to answer.  "Screed..."

"Screed?  What does he have to do with this?"  Tami broke in, hoping
to defuse the situation before Cynthia lost her notoriously short
temper again.

"I saw him slam Jane back against the bar.  He looked really angry.  I
couldn't hear what he was saying over the...."

"He what?"  Cynthia exploded, obscuring the rest of Tara's sentence.
"I'll stake the ratlover."

Tami reached out and pushed Cynthia back into her seat.  "Hold on.
You're not going to help matters by running over there unprepared.
Besides, you know Jane won't appreciate being treated like a damsel in
distress."

Grumbling and cursing incoherently, Cynthia settled back down
reluctantly.

"Now."  Tami continued, "What we need is a plan and to gather up
Catherine and Felicia."

"They're not going to appreciate that."  Lana rummaged through her
capacious yet stylish bag.  "Ah, there it is.  Here.  That should help
even the odds." She yanked out a thick, sharp wooden stake and thrust
it at Cynthia.

"Thanks."  Cynthia got up from the table, hefting the stake to test
its not-inconsiderable weight.  "Why don't you guys go get Cath and
Felicia. I'm going to have a chat with a carouche."

***

"Look.  Can't we work something out?"  Jane shrank a little closer to
the wall.  Screed's breath definitely hadn't improved during his
sojourn under the earth.

"Mebbe."  The carouche looked at Jane speculatively.  "Else I could
just chomp yer malenky neck and fergit the whole kit'ncaboodle.
Betcher krovvy tastes sweet ... like cinnymon."

Reaching up instinctively to put one hand over her neck, Jane tried to
come up with a solution that would be acceptable to an angry and
greedy carouche -- not easy to do when that same carouche was leaning
over her, threatening to drain her dry.

"Need some help, sweetie?"  Cynthia held the stake in one hand,
slapping the side of the pointed end against the palm of her other
hand.

"Oo'er you?"  Screed peered over at the newcomer.  He'd thought the
mortal was alone.  He hadn't anticipated her having help.

Cynthia smiled wickedly.  "Your worst nightmare."

Taking advantage of Screed's distraction, Jane shoved him out of the
way and moved to stand beside her partner.  "He's not worth the
trouble, love.  All he wants is to get paid for some work he did for
me last September."

"You didn't pay him?"  Cynthia asked.

Jane pushed her hair out of her eyes.  "I was planning to.  I even had
the money for it. But you know how abruptly the search for Lacroix
ended.  And then I heard that Screed was dead, so I forgot all about
it."

"How much do you owe him?"

"Four 'undred big ones."  Screed said helpfully.  "Plus innerest and
an appypolly loggy."

"A what?"  Cynthia usually didn't have a problem understanding Screed,
but every once in a while...

"Four hundred dollars, plus interest and an apology."  Jane
translated.  "I have the money in the bank, but we need every penny
we've got right now."

"How about trade?"  Cynthia stated, still toying with the stake.

"Like what?"  Screed narrowed his eyes suspiciously.  "An' why would I
trust that git again?  I'm not bloody barmy."

"Yes. Like what?"  Jane hissed.

"Whatever he wants.  You're trying to clear stuff out of your
apartment, right?  Why not let Screed have first choice?"  Cynthia
coughed.  Some idiot at the bar was smoking.  She needed her inhaler,
but wasn't about to drop the stake in order to get it from her fanny
pack.

"Sure."  Jane looked at Cynthia.  She knew exactly what that cough
meant. "Look Screed, how would you like a nice diamond ring.  Pear-
shaped solitaire, almost a full carat, with four smaller diamonds on
either side. Would that be enough?"

Screed nodded.  This had not turned out to be as much fun as he'd
thought it would be.  And now there were a bunch more of them coming. 
He backed away as Tami, Lana, Tara, Catherine and Felicia took up
positions behind Jane and Cynthia.

"Where do you want it delivered?"  Jane clutched Cynthia's arm as her
leg muscles collapsed in relief.

"Merc 'eadquarters.  Send it t'Johnny boy."

"Johnny boy?  You mean John Ewan?  Okay.  No problem.  I'll have it
delivered tomorrow morning."

***

The next morning, a small package was delivered by Network Couriers to
Merc Headquarters.  John Ewan opened it curiously.  Inside was a blue
velvet box containing a diamond ring.  He read the enclosed note and
smiled.  All he had to do was find out where to get the best price for
this ring -- a simple matter for someone hanging around with Mercs.
And Screed would love the apology.


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


Out of Commission
by Lisa McDavid

11 p. m. Monday, July 29th through about midnight. The last scene
takes place at sunrise on Friday morning.

Lisa McDavid was starting to fidget. Richard -- when someone takes you
to Azure for dinner, you quickly get on a first name basis -- would be
finished signing the credit card receipt in less than a minute, but
her ride hadn't yet shown up.

Her instincts had been correct. Richard Vetter's hints about
accompanying him home to see his collection of police memorabilia were
getting more and more heavy-handed. She couldn't afford a vindictive
commissioner in war time. So where the --

Just then the cavalry galloped, well, hopped to the rescue. A mini-bus
driven by Screed pulled up outside the pale blue glass front wall that
made everything outside look faintly subterranean. Seventeen kangaroos
disembarked and filed into the restaurant.

Wait a minute! Seventeen? Lisa counted. Twelve jurors, four alternates
and a huge male roo in a bush jacket and Crocodile Dundee hat. Lisa
gulped. Dawkins -- did blooper script characters count as part of the
FK universe? She could only hope.

Never mind. She'd just sit quietly at the table as they surrounded her
and carried her out of the door. Richard couldn't possibly blame her -
-

"You, driver! Get these wild beasts out of here *now*!" Vetter was
shouting out the door, but he was audible all over the restaurant.

Screed's reply was intelligible to Lisa only because she'd found that
idiom in the Russian dictionary one day while looking for something
else. Dawkins' response, unfortunately, required no interpretation.

"Who're you calling a wild beast, you stinking *mammal*?" roared the
kangaroo in an Antipodean accent that made Paul Hogan sound like a BBC
newsreader, just before he punched the police commissioner in the jaw.

Vetter flew ten feet and crashed into a cart of dirty dishes.

Lisa ran for the door, yelling for Screed, while the kangaroos made
the most of their revenge. Several of them commandeered the desert
cart. Others played leapfrog across the tables. One of them, having
burnt his foot on a table candle, kicked the offending globe right up
the the ceiling. That was when the sprinkler system (a misnomer for a
sudden flood) went off and the fire alarm deafened everybody.

Who knew kangaroos have sensitive ears? Everybody except Dawkins, who
was yelling that he would *not* go back to somewhere and pummeling the
commissioner, swept back out to the mini-bus. Lisa was genuinely
caught up in the tide. Before she could remonstrate, two of the
marsupials had hurled her under one of the seats and Screed had taken
the bus off at warp speed.

By the time Lisa clambered out from under the seat they had a police
escort. Five blue-and-whites, all with sirens screaming. Screed yelped
something about his ears hurting and switched on the radio.

Of course, since they had just screeched around a corner and onto the
long hill which had given Schanke such a roller-coaster ride in Dark
Knight, it was simply fated that the radio would be playing the same
music. Down they swept, slipping and sliding, as Screed and the
kangaroos tapped their feet in time and sang along. "Ya-Ya polka!"

The police cars gained. In fact, their blue lights made the inside of
the mini-bus feel like K-Mart on sale day. Lisa had just finished
praying to all the saints and promising to be a paragon of virtue
henceforth -- "Ya-Ya polka!" -- when the bus shot off the road into --
"Ya-Ya polka!" a small park.

Everything would have been fine if the alley hadn't happened to
contain a number of people in black face masks (and nothing else), a
black-robed figure with horns, and a black-draped picnic table on
which a goat was tied down amid a lopsided pattern of candles.
Blackrobe had a knife raised over the goat.

As it was, the bus careened into the group, splintered the table and
shot out the other side of the park with the goat bleating wildly as a
hood ornament.

The cop cars (six of them now) hurtled after them. Screed yelled
something that sounded like ship ahoy, turned down a side street and
shot straight toward Lake Ontario.

He had enough time to turn. The police cars didn't. Even over the
polka, stamping kangaroos and Screed's highly Elizabethan English,
Lisa heard the splash as all six cars went into the water.

After that, her homecoming was relatively tame. She paid off Screed
and the kangaroos, sending Abby's cut with them, and let herself into
CERK. The goat tried to follow her in. When she evicted it, she was
bitten.

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

Midnight, as Thursday Aug. 1st becomes Friday Aug. 2nd, through
midnight as Sunday, Aug. 4th

The bite marks from the goat, which had scarred in a strange pattern
much like those on the picnic table altar, woke Lisa. Her hand was
throbbing where the goat had chomped her and the scars were red.

She didn't remember anything more. Striding into the operations room
with blazing red-purple eyes which shot fire left no impression.
Neither did calling Lacroix, in a voice like the base in a concert
sound system, to come out and fight didn't register. She didn't even
have any impressions of proclaiming herself Belial and demanding that
the Cousins worship her.

It was to be days before she remembered anything at all, which was
just as well. Padded cells and straightjackets are so boring, even if
your occupant does busy himself with turning your head around like a
top and levitating you onto the ceiling.

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

Note: I will be back Monday. In Real Life <tm> I have to go out of
town, so just figure my persona's possessed and locked up during that
time.


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


Precinct House Blues
or, 101 Ways to Amuse Yourself Behind Bars
by Christina Kamnikar

11:52 PM, Monday July 29th, 96th Precinct

Forget embarassment. Forget tiny twinges of guilt. Forget, even,
anger.  Jail sucked mostly because it was so damn boring.

Inside her cell at the 96th Precinct, the Merc Mommy General in
captivity contemplated her predicament with what little interest she
could muster.  Christina's moods had swung from anger to disbelief to
rage to guilt to depression to loneliness all day, and all of them had
eventually dissolved into overwhelming boredom.

Jamie was mad at her; she'd said as much before the arraignment that
morning. "You owe me a KISS concert and men in spandex, Chris. Or the
whole concept of No-List, No-Post, and No-Mail will be dwarfed by what
else I'll think of." The MMG had some vague idea about taking Jamie to
the Shakespeare festival to fulfill the Men in Tights requirement; but
how the heck was she supposed to get Jamie to a KISS concert?

Dianne was mad at her; partly because she'd taken off with the Web
Goddess without warning her, and partly because she'd left a smart-ass
note behind saying, "Gone on a job. Hope you slept well. Don't wait
breakfast for us. Love, Chris & Jamie." But the GHP had her revenge
right here: Christina was in jail. Dianne wasn't.

Something about that struck her as deeply unfair.

The Cousins were mad at her. Well, not very. Not any more. Not after
the smug look Lisa McDavid shot her when *she* was bailed out, and
Chris had to stay in jail.  Of course, the Cousin's intoxicated leader
was actually looking at the political activist in the next cell, but
Chris knew Lisa had been smirking at her, and just couldn't focus well
enough to know which cell she was in.

Lacroix was mad at her. Chris pointedly decided to think about
something else. He probably wouldn't waste his time looking for her
after she got out of jail, but if she should accidentally be in his
way, and no one happened to be looking, and he thought he could get
away with it... Chaos wondered where she'd left that silver cross her
mother gave her.

"Nobody likes me, everybody hates me, guess I'll go eat worms..."

The police were mad at her, because she still wasn't cooperating very
well. Her pitiful excuse for an attorney advised her to plead guilty,
for Chrissakes, so she'd fired him and demanded someone else. They
were being very slow about finding another Public Defender, and Chris
suspected it was purposeful on their part. The hijack was still
ongoing, erica and Bianca were still transmitting away, even though
*Chris* hadn't gotten to hear any of it.

She hadn't been able to go to the Brabant Exhibit at ROM, either. Or
participate in Maureen's trial. It was so cruel... she'd come up with
some really cool ideas for the proceedings, and now she'd have to read
the court record to find out if any of them got used.

Maureen was mad at her. But Maureen was always mad at someone. And it
would be worse, later, after Mo told the Natpackers about the
Strikeforce... they might also become upset with Chris at that point.
They'd be more furious with Dianne, probably, but Chris had helped,
and Chris had known all along that Dianne was Sue and Sue was Dianne,
and had sort of, kind of, maybe, planned the trap for Maureen at the
CN Tower.

Mercenary Generals don't pout. But if they did, it would have
resembled Chris's expression when she realized  that she was missing
*everything*, all the cool fun stuff happening out there, and who know
when she'd get out?

Maybe erica and Bianca would rescue her. Maybe Dianne would come and
bail her out really soon. Maybe there'd be a jailbreak when they tried
to transfer her to maximum security, and she and Harrison Ford would
go on the run together, and... sighing, Chris regretfully pulled
herself back to reality, because as much fun as being pursued by Tommy
Lee Jones might be, she just didn't feel up to it. Right now she
didn't have the energy to keep carving "Ladies: For Phone-Sex A-Go-Go,
call Lucien at 555-CERK" into the wall with the back of her earring as
she'd been doing for the last hour or so. The phones at the station
still worked, even if the Morrigna had the signal.

Captain Reese was mad at her. They'd been moving her around between
holding and the interrogation room, and she'd asked for a drink at the
water cooler where Reese was struggling to get water, and she'd very,
very thoughtfully gotten it to work for the 96th's beleaguered leader.
So she'd taken the opportunity to try to explain (okay, lie, but she'd
believed it at the time, so it was almost the same as telling the
truth) that she was a friend of Nick Knight's, and that she had
information about his disappearance. Reese had been interested for
about three minutes until he'd decided she was completely nuts, then
he'd yelled at her keepers to lock her up again, and where the hell
was that psychiatrist, anyway?

She'd slept for hours after that, and awakened to chat with her
cellmates, most of whom were convinced that she was going to the
Toronto Mental Hospital. But they were nice to her anyway. They
weren't mad at her. Not even after the guards stopped the Alannis
Morrisette singalong, and put her in a separate cell, all by herself.
They thought she was cool. They were more understanding than some
Mercenaries of her acquaintance.

Somewhere between trying to figure out how to make Dianne pay for
this, and how to get KISS tickets for Jamie, and wondering if there
would be any really hot actors at the Shakespeare Festival, Christina
fell asleep again, dreaming of revenge, men in spandex, vampires, and
the wages of sin.


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


War 5 Slightly Revisited
Date:  July 29, 1996
Time:  11:59 p.m.
Place:  Spifff's apartment

Lana crept gratefully into her bed.  Finally, a night of uninterrupted
sleep, she thought.  She tossed and turned for a moment, trying to
find a comfortable spot and then dropped off into an uneasy sleep.

And dreamed.

***

She was back in War 5 at the Die Hard headquarters.  Dawn was
attacking Nick again, but this time the ATC (Atomic Flash Camera)
wasn't working. Supersoakers proved ineffectual also, merely making
both Dawn and Nick wet, to Dawn's great enjoyment.

Suddenly, Janette, on a pair of silver rollerblades, skated into the
room .

"Janette," cried Nick.  "Help get this woman off of me!"

Janette circled round the couple several of times, taking stock of the
situation.  It started to make Nick feel slightly sick at the round
and round motion.

"I'm sorry, Nichola, but I really can't right now," she said, as she
executed a triple axle flawlessly.  "I'm really too busy now."

And with a graceful twirl, she leapt out of the window and landed on a
Nissan Multi, which racked and wheezed down the road, blowing smoke as
it went.

The Die Hards resumed their struggles to free Nick from the horrible
Dawn, but stopped when they saw LaCroix enter the room.

"Oh Nicholas," said LaCroix, sporting a huge black and purple knot on
his forehead.  "Not again.  Don't you ever think?"

"LaCroix..." began Nick, but was cut short by LaCroix.

"No Nick, not this time," and then he was gone with the speed of a
truly worthy pan and flash.

Lana slid down the wall and watched the struggling duo in despair.
May, they should just let nature or psychosis take it's course.

Suddenly, Cynthia and Jane sailed in through the window on a diesel
powered broomstick.

"She's at it again," said Jane in disgust.

"Jane," said Lana.  "You've come to help."

Jane started to get off the broomstick, but was stopped by Cynthia.

"No," commanded Cynthia.  "Remember, we have to find Janette."

As they turned around to sail back out the window, Lana saw that they,
too, wore silver rollerblades.  Cynthia fired up the broomstick and,
riding sidesaddle, they gracefully sailed out the window.

"It's useless,"  said Lana to Nick.  "You may as well let her win."

"NEVER," roared Nick and renewed his struggles.

Suddenly, there was a clanging and Tracy came riding in on Vachon, who
was a cow.  A cow bell hung around Vachon's neck and with every step
to clanked louder and louder.  Tracy was dressed as Little Miss
Muffitt, complete with a tuffit.

Of all things, this, stopped Dawn in her tracks.

"A cow!" she exclaimed, letting go of Nick.

Nick was momentarily surprised at the cessation of the attack, but
quickly regained his senses and fled through the door.

"Nick," cried Dawn.  "If you're hungry.  There's plenty here."

She grabbed a sword from the mysterious Highlander place where all
swords reside and waved it at Vachon.

Vachon gave a frightened moo and jumped out of the window and over the
moon, causing Tracy who was still on his back to bang her head and
drop her tuffit.

Dawn vaulted over the tuffit and was after the cow in a flash.

The Die Hards crept toward the window and watched Nick run down the
road. He was closely followed by Vachon, with Tracy bobbing up and
down on his back, grasping his mane extensions.

They were all chased by Dawn who screamed, "Wait!  Wait!  I must have
your head."

They could hear the ringing of the cow bell increase as Vachon picked
up speed.

Lana dropped her head and rested it on the sill.

"Things have got to be easier in the next war,"  she said and promptly
woke up.

***

She reached out and turned off the alarm clock, which had been
clanking away.  It was time to get up and see what the others had
discovered.

Things have got to be easier today, she thought, as she headed into
the kitchen for a Diet Coke.


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


The Great Knightie-Napp Caper (02/03)
 By: April Ruskin with input by Denise Underwood and Shirl Cline
& the kind assistance of Angie Lotto <eg>
 Monday, July 29, 1996. 11:59 pm


"That's it! I'm not waiting here any longer! Two hours is enough!
Especially since I spent the last 36 hours taking a trip that should
only take seven hours at the most!" Angie stormed toward the airport
exit.

"Excuse me miss, are you Angie Lotto?" A woman in a chauffeur's
uniform asked.

Angie stopped in surprise. "Yes, yes I am."

"I was sent to pick you up." the woman said as she opened the door to
a black stretch limo and motioned Angie to enter.

Angie shrugged her shoulders and got in. She didn't notice the four
women sitting in the back of the limo until the door shut behind her.
She heard an audible click as the door locked behind her. "What's
going on?"

"So, you're our assignment." one of the women said.

"Who are you people?"

"I'm Dee." The woman who had spoken said. "This is  Lu, and Shirl.
The really quiet one is Denise."  Dee looked over in concern at her
TEDT who had not said a word since her encounter with LaCroix earlier
in the day. "The driver's name is April."

"But why are you here?" Angie asked perplexed.

"The General has assigned us to kidnap you."

"The... General... Then, you are Cousins?" Angie worked her way
through the situation.

"Give the woman a prize!!" April said from the front.

Dee rolled her eyes. "Just drive April!"

"Sorrygeeztrytolightenthemoodalittleandwhatdoyougetcouldcut
thetensionbacktherewithaknifeButohnoIgetsnappedat" April muttered
to herself as she drove the limo out into traffic.

"Now my dear, you have nothing to worry about. If you would put on
this blindfold." Shirl told Angie.

"Why?" Angie asked. Spending 36 hours in airports and planes does not
make you a candidate for the clear thinking award.

"So you don't know where we're taking you!" Lu exclaimed while rolling
her eyes.

Angie put on the blindfold and decided to let her tired body rest.




Translation of Aprilese:

Sorrygeeztrytolightenthemoodalittleandwhatdoyougetcouldcut
thetensionbacktherewithaknifebutohnoIgetsnappedat

Sorry geez try to lighten the mood a little and what do you get could
cut the tension back there with a knife but oh no I get snapped at


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


VOICES IN THE NIGHT
Callie Jones
Sunday Night July 29th

Callie Jones couldn't sleep.  Every time she was just about to settle
her head back on the cotton clad pillow she kept hearing a sepulchral
voice calling her name.

"Calantha", she started. Their it was again, "Calantha"

Callie turned and pulled the pillow over her head. "Go away", she
spat, "I don't like that stupid old name anyway..."

"It's what your mother called you isn't it?"

"...that's what comes of having a mother who read romance novels for
entertainment when she was pregnant" the attractive girl in the bed
mumbled sleepily

"Callie!" the voice spoke prempterily.

"What do you want!", she said jumping up in bed. She started with
horror as she saw a shadowy figure of a young girl with long golden
brown hair like honey in a diaphonous white gown hovering in her room.

"But your dead", she stammered.

"Am I?" the young phantasm gave an evil throaty laugh.

"I saw it," Callie replied.  She continued "You were staked and yiur
head got cut off and you were burnt up to ashes" she said that last
with her lower lip quivvering remembering how THEY had killed off her
favorite character.

"Oh no "Callie", I'm much too old and too powerful for that" said the
willowy apparition sarcastically.

"I'm in trouble", Callie thought to herself.

"You may well be", the specter said derisively echoing her innermost
thoughts, "but not with me." "Come on, your leaving."

"Now?" Callie said looking rather frightened for the first time.

"Now" the shade confirmed, "Pack what you need, I have need of you."

"Where am I going?", Callie asked unawares of the absurdity of
conversing with, much less following order from an apparent ghost.

"Toronto", the pallid figure chortled mirthlessly." Go to the old car
lot at the edge of the lake."

Toronto, Callie thought, Oh boy, her sister was going to be upset
about *this*... "Wait", she said as the wraith started to disappear.
"How do I get there?"

"You'll figure something out", said the pallid spook as she drifted
into smoke.

Callie thought for a moment.  Her sister had give her her gold
american express card to buy something for her recent birthday.  She
still had the charge receipt with the numbers. "Well it serves her
right for trying to keep me off-line", she thought remembering the
battle she'd had with big sis about that one.   She looked back at the
bed and grabbed her old but well beloved talking Ariel vudu doll and
stuffed her on top of the clothes in her bag.  "Never know when you
might need a friend", she thought.


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


The Raven Re-Opens
Date:  July 29, 1996
Time:  12:00 midnight

Janette duCharme and her Raven/ettes have returned, and they have
brought with them the inimitable style and grace that once
characterized the Raven.

Ms. duCharme cordially invites you to visit the newly re-opened Raven
featuring live music, dancing and a fully re-stocked bar.

Place:  The Raven, Richmond Street West, Toronto, Ontario

Time:   The stroke of midnight on Monday, July 29, 1996


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


The Great Knightie-Napp Caper (03/03)
 By April Ruskin & spur of the moment input by Denise Underwood
Technical assistance by Cherri Munoz and Shirl Cline :)
& the kind assistance of Angie Lotto <grin>
Tuesday July 31, 1996 01:30 am


Angie woke with a start as the limo stopped. "Mmmph... Can I take
this off now?" She asked.

"Nope, not yet." Lu said. "We still have a bit to go."

"But how am I supposed to walk?" Angie asked.

"Don't worry about it. The way we're going is level and almost totally
clear of debris." Shirl explained.

The Cousins and the Knightie got out of the limo. April watched a
still silent and unsteady  Denise while Dee led Angie to a manhole cover
leading to the sewers. "OK, we'll be going down a ladder first, then
Dee will lead you to where we are going to keep you."

April leaned down and tried to lift the manhole cover. She looked up
at the others and motioned for someone to help. Lu sighed and helped
April lift the cover.

After everyone was underground, Angie asked, "Why are we in the
sewers?"

"Easier to walk a blindfolded person that way. No one asks questions.
Now hush." Dee told her as she guided Angie down the tunnel.

After many twists and turns (and many "Stop singing April! Or
we'll take your walkman away!" and muttering of
"NexttimeImplayingNineInceNailsandsingingontopofmylungssee
howtheylikethat.*), they finally stopped.

"Just let me get the door open." April said as she searched a section
of wall for something. "Hope the General's instructions for opening
this thing work. Ooo! I think I got it!" Suddenly, the wall opened,
revealing a passageway.

The passage lead to five doors. "Okay, Angie, you can take the
blindfold off now." Shirl said.

Angie willingly took it off and looked around. "Are we near a
nightclub? I can faintly hear music."

Denise suddenly became alert and said, "Yes, there's a nightclub
within a block of here. But don't think that will help you. The only
way out of here is through the door we came in and the door at the
other end of the tunnel can only be opened using a secret switch. Now
then, we're to stay here until called for by LaCroix. Or someone else
if they know the password we came up with to tell if it's the real
thing or not. Everyone remember the password?" Denise looked around as
her fellow Cousins all nodded. "And everyone left their regular
cellular phone at CERK? And you only have the special one the General
gave us?" More nods all around. "Good."

"What's with the new phones?" Lu asked.

"These phones are virtually impossible to trace, unless you are with
the NSA or something. The calls will be routed between five different
satellites and at least four different US states before the signal
reaches Canada. Then it gets routed through all sorts of relay
stations before we get the call. And April, I've been told that if you
lose this phone, don't bother to make plans for the rest of your
life." Denise told the others as April paled.

"OK, Angie, you will be in this room. There is a bathroom behind the
door on the far wall of your room. As soon as we search your luggage
for possible weapons and tracking devices, you can have it back. Don't
know how long we'll be here, so make yourself comfortable." Denise
continued as she opened one of the doors.

"Those must have been some instructions LaCroix gave her." Shirl
muttered to Dee, who nodded in agreement.

Denise, overhearing the exchange, gave the two a hard look.

Angie walked into a room with a bed, a chair and a dresser in it. All
were obviously second hand, but were still comfortable. She peeked
into the bathroom and noticed that it was clean. Angie looked at Dee
questioningly.

"What? Just because we kidnapped you doesn't mean we have to torture
you."

"Consider yourself LaCroix's special guest Angie." Denise said coolly.

Denise's friends found her tone disquieting, and looked at each other
perplexed.

Dee noticed that Angie's eyes were red and started to tear. "It'll be
OK. Don't worry about it." She told Angie.

"It isn't that, it's my contacts." Angie replied.

"Well, let me check out your contact gear and you can have it." April
replied as the door was shut and locked.

A few minutes later, April reappeared and handed Angie her contact
supplies and glasses. "We're searching your luggage now. Nice knife by
the way."

Angie searched for a way out. After all, she was supposed to be at the
loft helping her fellow Knighties search for some book. She finally
stopped searching and sat down on the bed. 'Maybe I'll find something
after I get some sleep.' She thought.

The door opened again about twenty minutes later. "Here's your stuff
back." Shirl said as she put Angie's luggage on the chair. "We're
going to bed now. Need anything, just yell. Breakfast is at nine."


Angie yawned and got ready for bed.


*Translation:
NexttimeImplayingNineInchNailsandsingingontopofmylungssee
howtheylikethat.

Next time I'm playing Nine Inch Nails and singing on top of my
lungs see how they like that.


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


THE SIGHTING

by Laura MacMillan and the N&NPack
Tueday, 30/96   2:00am
Toronto Ontaario

Laura sat in front of the computer looking over the information
reports she received from surveillance teams. It was all standard
stuff till she reached the report from surveillance team one. She read
it over carefully. She smiled to herself. She knew it the whole time
and now she had the proof.

She called the memebers of team one into her makeshift office.

"Pat. Paula. Please have a seat. I was just looking over your
surviellence report about tonight. Are you sure you saw what you said
you saw? " Laura questioned

"Yes, we are sure. It was her, " replied Pat confidently.

"We did see her. She was wondering aimlessly around the block near the
church Vachon is at, " added Paula

"We tried to follow her but we lost her after a few blocks," said Pat

"Okay, then we have some work to do. We have to find her and bring her
back here before anything  happens to her, Nick and Nat would never
forgive us if we did nothing, " Laura stated

Laura called everyone into the room and once they were quiet she told
them the news and arranged the appropriate actions be taken.


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


ACTIONS 3/?: You Want Me to Wear What?
Location: The Old Church
Time: July 30, 2 am.
by Sherri Campbell

Follows ACTIONS 2/?: Let 'er Rip (The first two ACTIONS posts haven't
been posted yet, they are in process - but I have to get these posted
so others can get their stuff written.)


Later, Approximately 2 am.

Vachon's muffled voice came through the door. "Are you sure this is
necessary?"  He sounded dubious.

Apache leaned forward. "It is a well known weakness in our victim.  If
she sees someone walking past, with long dark hair, and wearing what
you have on? She'll follow you anywhere!  Once you get her out of
sight, all you need to do is bring her back to the church."

"Okay. But, this is a one time deal."  The door opened and the few
Vaqueras in the area paled. The sight of Vachon dressed as he was,
completely devastated those present. Torrey's knees buckled, and only
quick actions on the part of the Vaquera's standing next to her saved
her nose from smashing into the floor. Vachon raised one eyebrow
elegantly. "What is it?"

Sherri stammered "Sh-she just isn't quite herself right now! Now, you
do have the plan memorized, right?"

Vachon nodded in amusement. "Yes, I do know the plan. I'll be out
looking to implement it.  Where is the cell phone you wanted me to
use?" Apache numbly handed over the phone. Vachon nodded to them all,
turned, and was gone.


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


VAQ ACTIONS 4/?: Vachon Takes Flight
Location: Toronto, July 30th, 2 am
By Sherri L. Campbell

(Takes place directly after WAR: VAQ:ACTIONS 3/?: You Want Me to Wear
What?")

Shifting his shoulders uneasily, Vachon took to the air with a sense
of relief. It wasn't that he didn't *like* the Vaquero/as, it was the
fact that he wasn't used to that much... 'company'. /It's fun to watch
the mortals... I even enjoyed cooking the soup earlier tonight./  He
veered to the roof of a tall building, and came to rest. Tugging at
his outfit, he shook his head. /What I do for the 'cause'.../

"All right, Javier. You volunteered to do this, so let's see what the
best way is... " Thinking back to the brainstorm session with Torrey,
Apache, and Sherri, he remembered all the pointers they had given him.
"Hmm. Watch out for suspicious car activity, look for a tall blonde
woman, watch the various locations for the different affiliations....
Hmm. I may have bitten off a larger job than it appeared when I
volunteered.  I guess I will fly a loop around the likeliest spots,
and if it doesn't work this evening, I can try again tomorrow night." 
Taking his bearings, he lifted off and began to search in earnest.
                        * * * *

3:20 am

Vachon headed for The Raven in frustration. He had poked, pried,
searched, and still hadn't found who he was searching for. /I guess I
will go get a drink before The Raven closes. Maybe I can think of
something.../ As he reached the area of The Raven, he noticed a non-
descript van, with a tall, blond woman unloading boxes against the
door.  He slowed, and perched on a building nearby. Checking his
memory against the image he had been shown, he began to smile. /Yes!
It is her! So, now all I have to do is follow her to my target!/

The van peeled out as if a maniac were driving.  As he exerted himself
to keep up, he began to wonder who was driving. He thought the tall
blonde had jumped into the passenger side of the van. He was
distracted by the realization that the area was beginning to look
*very* familiar.  As the van jerked to a stop across from the church,
he landed just outside of the pool of light near the van.  Tensing as
the tall woman leaped out, he wondered how severe the attack was going
to be this time.

The woman ran around to the back, and got an armful of something and
headed for the alleyway.  As she left his sight, he realized who else
was in the van! It was she! The target he was supposed to search for.
He smiled very quietly, and implemented the plan.


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


Post Operation Knightie-Napp

Angie
Place : somewhere below TO
time :  approx 2 a.m. Tuesday morning
(hey I'm in the dark here and there is no clock!)

*******************************************************
She slept very, very fitfully. Kept having nightmares about bad
eyebrows and cows mooing at her and chasing her around. When *he*
showed up to taunt her in her sleep, she awoke with a start.

The strangeness of her sourroundings gave her pause for a moment, and
then it all came rushing back. The phone call about some missing book,
someone telling her that *Nick* needed her, she must come at once, the
horrible racket she woke up to on Sunday morning as the bad KISS
impersonators cranked up their instruments in her driveway, //must
remember to properly thank Jamie for that soon she noted//, the
neighbors screaming and thowing food stuffs around the drive, the
horror as the bowl of catfood hit the Gene Simmons impersonator, those
neighborhood cats howling along. But mostly, she remembered the
strange look in David's face as he put her on the first of many planes
to get to Toronto. And those fateful words he spoke, *Angie, you hate
to fly, this can only mean trouble for you honey. Please be
careful...*

Yep, she remembered it all. And she was starting to figure it out too.
It was apparent to her now that the letter that she had sent to the
Knighties and their leaders, had been intercepted by that bizarre
eyebrowed LaCroix and his band of Shakespearian weenies. What the hell
could he want with her? //Unless the evil cousin Cherri had put him up
to it because of all the bad cow jokes she had made in the last two
months//. Maybe Cherri had stopped at her home page and gone to the
movie review section. Cherri wouldn't have been pleased at all that
Angie had used the *4 Cow* rating system in Cherri's honor... //no
silly! Cherri wouldn't know about that, she's too wrapped up in the
war.// But that was the only cousin that Angie had thought she could
have insulted! She had not been mean to April, Denise, Shirl or Lu...
Fer chrissakes, she like all of them! They were a lot of fun to hang
with.....

She snapped on the little swing lamp over the bed and grabbed her
duffle bag. She pulled out the Gameboy and popped in the Adventures of
Link... and thought, long and hard. This was an apparent setup from
the start, the Knighties couldn't know she was here, or even that she
was supposed to be one of them.... Well at least they had laid in a
supply of nice cold Pepsi (tm) and some bubblebath. They were trying
to be nice... nicer than cousins should be... whats up with that?????
Nice cousins, a terrible concept indeed!

Ah well, she was where she was, and there was always the hope that
someone would come and rescue her. Maybe someone actually did know whe
was in TO and would send a Merc //oh boy// to come to extricate her
from this situation. Whatever, might as well grab a Pepsi(tm) and try
to find the king's armour. Theres a long road ahead, nice to see that
at least the place is clean....//Thanks goodness I am used to keeping
vampires hours//.


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


Sometimes You're the Windshield; Sometimes You're the Bug
   by Dianne la Mercenaire <Cat.Goddess@pobox.com>
      (based on an idea by Diane. E. and with much-valued
       assistance from Cousin Cherri & Vaq Sherri-- who
       pointed out, then helped me fix a... um... 'little'
       boo-boo in "Don't Worry 5/5")


[Timing: After "Pretty in Pink" and before "Don't Worry 5/5"--
probably _very early_ in the a.m. of Tues 7/30]

[Place: The Old Church]

<backdated as a fix post w/ special permission of the WMs>




Sometimes, life just didn't seem worth living.

She thought she'd gotten over it by now; she thought she'd developed
some immunity to the humiliation, the awkwardness, the pain.

But she was wrong.

LaCroix didn't appreciate her. He'd only let her live to make her a
laughingstock of the entire city. For six *months*.

The Cousins didn't appreciate her. Lisa had chewed her out earlier for
getting *another* fine for being the inadvertant cause of yet
*another* downtown traffic jam.

She felt like she'd been in that horrible cow suit *forever*. The Vaqs
probably laughed themselves to sleep every night.

And tonight she'd caught some of the newer Cousins laughing at her.

After that, Cherri had found herself stumbling around Toronto for what
seemed like hours-- depressed, miserable.

Until she saw the old church.

Then she was *angry*.

"IT'S ALL YOUR FAULT!" she screamed, throwing herself at the chainlink
fence and frightening the... um... well, some more 'glop' <g> out of
the geese.

Hearing the ruckus, Sherri ran to the front door-- to see the fence
almost give way under the raging assault (with what would have been
dire consequences to the relatively-clean streets of Toronto on a
level _no one_ really wants to contemplate).

Taking pity on the raving bovine before her, Sherri grabbed a broom
and a couple of spare Vaqueras and headed out to fetch the poor
benighted soul.

Expertly sweeping geese out of their way and supporting Cherri over
the.. um... 'slicker' parts of the route, the Vaqueros ushered her
inside the church, where she sank to the floor in exhaustion.

"They're laughing at me," she sobbed.  "The Cousins are _laughing_."

Sherri offered the distraught cow a shoulder and murmured soothing
reassurances until the shaking stopped. Realizing that Cherri had
fallen asleep, the Vaqueros kindly laid her on a spare pew, tucked a
pillow under her head, and returned to their work.

****

Cherri woke later to the sound of worried, hurrying Vaqs calling her
name... and was that _mooing_?

Attempting to sit up, she bumped her head and fell back down on her
back. Somehow she'd rolled off and _under_ the pew in her sleep.

Slightly disoriented (and amazed at how out of it she'd apparently
been), her eyes focused slowly on something stuck to the underside of
the pew.

It was a book.  A little brown book.

Grabbing her find quickly, Cherri crawled out-- not without serious
difficulty-- and went after the Vaqs to find out what was going on.

But first, she *really* needed to go....


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


(Don't Worry,) Be Happy 1/5 -- The Raider of the Pack
   by Dianne la Mercenaire <Cat.Goddess@pobox.com>
    with help from Jamie the Web Goddess <Immajer@nyc.pipeline.com>
     (Under contract to the now-comatose Diane E. <Gryphon@execpc.com>)

[Timing: 2:30am Mon night/Tues morn.]



With an already-tired sigh, Dianne finished her plotting for the
evening.  At this rate she wouldn't make either the museum opening
_or_ the Raven re-opening.  She considered tacking on an annoyance
surcharge to her contract just for that.

Sure, the Rabidly Unaffiliated Listmember had disappeared quite
mysteriously amid vague, yet dire rumors, but the job had been paid in
advance and completing it was a matter of taking pride in one's work.

That and encouraging repeat business.

*********

"Come on Jamie, we're going on a field trip!"

"At 2 a.m.?" the Web Goddess trusted her Merc Mommy, but late-night
excursions in the middle of a vampire-infested War were enough to give
anyone pause.

"Yup. You're coming along on a job with me. It's time you remembered
what it's like to be a real Merc-- the thrill of the sneak, the rush
of the lurk...."

"The joys of jail?" Dianne ignored the comment, but Jamie persisted.
"Are we going to get Christina out?" She felt bad at the prospect of
leaving her other Merc Mommy locked up indefinitely.

Dianne shook her head. "No, no. Later. When she's learned her lesson."
She continued before Jamie could object. "We're going to visit the
'Pack!"

The Illustrated Merc Baby smiled... then frowned. "We're not going to
_attack_ them, are we?" Her frown was heading towards a something
decidedly less pleasant.

"No, no," the GHP assured her, "We're just going to get some pretty-
bright-shinies!" Jamie's eyes lit up, and Dianne sighed quietly.
<_Way_ too much time spent around the Pack.> "Starting with," she
reached into a pocket and dangled them in front of her as she spoke,
"the keys to the Merc van."

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

"Now remember: Be _quiet_," Dianne reminded Jamie as they entered the
beachhouse.

Tiptoeing in amongst the sleeping forms, Dianne could see they had
their work cut out for them.

"Oooooh!  NatPack!" Jamie cooed as she reached out to pet Jennie's
hair.

"*Sleeping* NatPack," Dianne reminded her in a fierce whisper as she
batted Jamie's hand away. "Don't wake them up!"

"Ooooh!  Pretty-bright-*orange*!" Jamie responded, pointing at the
NatMare under Jennie's head.

"Pretty-bright-orange, indeed!" Dianne agreed, shaking her head, as
she started to work the stuffed animal out from under the Pack
Leader's head without waking her.

"If this isn't an attack, why are you taking the NatMare?"

Dianne winced, feeling like the Grinch faced with Cindy Lou Who. Not a
bad precedent, actually....

"I'm going to clean it... and fix that spot on its nose." A couple of
stitches and a wipe-down weren't going to kill her in the grand scheme
of things. And she *never* lied to her Merc Baby.

"Oh.  Well, then, you'd better take the other one, too; we don't want
them to get lonely," Jamie warned.

Dianne looked at her for a moment. "There are *more* of them?"

"Only two."

"Thank heaven!" Dianne muttered under her breath. "You go find the
other one, OK? And take... uh 'round up' any other stuffed animals you
see while you're at it."

"Oh-kay," Jamie agreed happily.

Dianne started gathering every prescription lens and medication-filled
purse she could find, doing her best to ignore the sounds of Jamie
tripping over things in the dark. Luckily, the Pack was apparently
*really* tired.

"If this isn't an attack, why are you taking their glasses?"

_Just_ managing not to yelp in surprise (how could someone who
stumbled that much sneak up on her like that?), Dianne took a very
long slow breath, let it out, then turned to face Jamie.

She was standing there, next to a pile of critters, a *bright* orange
NatMare under each arm. "And if you take their inhalers, they can't
breathe!" she accused with a frown.

"It will be OK, Jamie," she reassured her calmly. "I know *exactly*
what I'm doing." Jamie looked less than sure. "Why don't you go in the
kitchen and make yourself some coffee-- some _quiet_ coffee, OK?"

Jamie thought for a minute.

Dianne thought it was a very _long_ minute.

Then she said, "Oh-kay!"

As Jamie retreated to the kitchen, bright orange NatMares at her side
[Have you guys *seen* these things? 'Bright' does not _even_ do them
justice-- try 'radioactive orange'! <g>], Dianne spotted something.

"Jamie!" she hissed. "Take your jacket with you. We don't want to
leave any evidence."

The Web Goddess took a few steps back, looking at the proffered
article of clothing. "That's not mine."

"Yes it is!"

"No it isn't. That one says 'NatPacker' on the pocket."

"Fine, whatever!  Just take it anyway." Jamie shrugged, accepted it,
and headed back to the kitchen. Cursing herself for not having brought
more muscle on this job, Dianne started carting luggage, purses,
stuffed animals, and all manner of corrective lenses out to the
waiting van.

"I only hope it's _big_ enough...."

Looking at her watch, she decided she'd better let Jamie drive.


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


(Don't Worry,) Be Happy 2/5 -- Plushies from Heaven
   by Dianne la Mercenaire <Cat.Goddess@pobox.com>
    (Under contract to the now-comatose Diane E. <Gryphon@execpc.com>)

[Timing: 3:00am Mon night/Tues morn.]



"That's a Bad High Place."

"No it's not!" Dianne was trying, unsuccessfully, to get the height-
phobic Web Goddess to come closer to the wall she was in the process
of scaling awkwardly. "Besides, *I'm* going up... not you. I just need
you to send up the loot!"

Jamie still frowned, but moved slightly closer to the foot of the
building, as she tried not to watch Dianne's progress.

At the sound of her name in an urgent whisper, she tied the large
bundle to the end of the rope and looked down to terra firma as it was
hauled up into the night.

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

*BONK!*

Perri stirred ever so slightly in her sleep.

*BONK!* *BonkBonkBonk!*

Now other Knighties were waking. A mild panic ensued as it became
evident that they were being attacked from above... in the dark....

***********

Hefting the last NatMare, Dianne aimed carefully.

*BONK!*

"Yes!" she exclaimed happily, as she beaned Catheboo with the super-
soft plushie. Sadly realizing she had run out of stuffed animals, she
quickly vacated the roof and hurried off to make a few phone calls.


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


Rude Awakening Number Two
by Perri Smith

Continuous to (Don't Worry,) Be Happy" 2/5 -- "Plushies from Heaven.

July 30, 3:05 a.m.
Nick's Loft

Perri grunted when the first soft, fuzzy thing hit her face. She
swatted at the second, mumbling something threatening her kitten's
way. When the third one hit, she sat straight up.

"Who's things throwing me DIE?" she yelled somewhat incoherently. Of
course, considering it was still dark outside, that was basically what
the Knighties expected of her -- their co-fearless leader *hated*
waking up --and none of them were doing too much better.

"Turn on the lights!" someone yelled from the other side of the room.

"Got 'em!" someone else yelled. A moment later, the room was flooded
with lights, which did nothing to improve Perri's mood. She reached
for her glasses, unwilling to fuss with contacts, and squinted as
blurs resolved themselves into Knighties -- and animals.

Something like forty of them -- stuffed and littering the floor of
Nick's loft. Every Knightie stretched on the floor had been hit with
at least one, she figured out through the layers of sleep fogging her
mind. She and Cath had both been targeted by about five.

"Oh, hell," she swore quietly. "Attacked by teddy bears. Lovely."

"Could have been worse," Cath yawned from across the room.

"Yeah, I know," Perri yawned back. "Blood." She shook her head and
threw back her blanket, pulling herself to her feet. "We really do
have to start setting guards. Does someone object to us getting
sleep?"

"Guess so." Cath struggled to her feet and kicked a stuffed tiger off
of her sleeping back.

Perri shrugged and yawned again. Then she blinked, as a very familiar
bright orange blob resolved itself at her feet. "Ohmigod. The NatMare.
Allie, Marcia, Courtney -- get outside and catch this character before
she escapes! I want her in this loft now!"

The other three blinked, then obeyed -- no one wanted to become the
focus of Perri's 'I do *not* want to be awake' ire, in which her
usually bad temper became positively filthy. The elevator door slammed
shut behind them.

"What's up?" Cath asked in confusion.

Perri had picked up the orange monstrosity, which was so ugly it was
adorable. "The NatMares -- the 'Pack *always* has them with them.
Whoever stole this knows where the 'Pack is. *I* want to know where
the 'Pack is." Perri was looking as intense as someone who can't quite
focus *can* look.

"Are you sure it's *the* Natmares?"

Perri pointed to a scrawl along the orange fabric of one of the
creatures. "Check out the signature. This is it."

The search party returned then. "No sign of her," Allie reported.
"Gone without a trace."

Perri swore again, then reluctantly grinned and reached for her
computer. "Well, they'll have to return my e-mail if I tell 'em I'm
holding the NatMares for ransom. Everyone else, start sorting these
things out. If whoever this is stole from the NatPack, that's probably
where they got the rest of these things."

She started to type, then looked up and blinked. "Hey, that's *my*
teddy bear. Leave him alone!"

********

DATE: July 29, 2:13 a.m. EST
TO: Finabair@aol.com
FROM: perridox@intex.net
SUBJECT: Missing something?

Jennie,

We were just bombed by a shipment including the NatMares. If you want
it back, talk to me.

Perri

*******

Cath yawned yet again, keeping one eye on the sorting and another on
her possessed co-leader. "Why are you so hot to find the 'Pack?"

Perri disconnected her computer and put it to sleep. "Mostly because
they apparently don't want to be found. Guess I'm just a slave to my
curiousity."

"Besides, you just can't stand not knowing about Natalie," Cath
finished knowingly.

Perri shrugged uncomfortably. "Well, I *am* an honorary NatPacker."


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


(Don't Worry,) Be Happy 3/5 -- What Do the Simple Thieves Do?
   by Dianne la Mercenaire <Cat.Goddess@pobox.com>
    (Under contract to the now-comatose Diane E. <Gryphon@execpc.com>)

[Timing: 3:15am Mon night/Tues morn.]



*Nothing* was working.

It seemed so simple.  Just deliver a box to the Cousins.  Not even a
booby-trapped box.  A box they might well even _want_.

But it was Wartime, and nothing was simple anymore.

She'd tried tying it to a hunk of raw meat and luring Fred the Eagle
into taking it back with him.

All that had gotten her was a torn, crushed, bloody box left right
where it had started.

She'd tried to find Lisa the Perpetually Wasted. Surely *she* could be
tricked into taking back a simple box with her-- providing, of course,
she could find her way home.

But Lisa was nowhere to be found. They must be keeping her under lock
and key.

She'd _even_ tried to deliver it herself, sinking so low in her race
against time that she would try outright *honesty* in achieving her
aim.

It had not been a pretty sight.

And, after all that, it hadn't worked either. The Cousins weren't
about to take delivery of *anything* from the Merc GHP in the middle
of the night. Especially when she swore up and down it was _not_ a
trick.

Jamie-- beloved List Mommy and Web Goddess, and former Cousin herself
[for about 2 days back in War 5... go look it up! <g>]-- had no more
luck.

Dianne sighed. Fine. She had promised to deliver it, not force it down
their suspicious little throats.

Propping the box containing all the NatPack's various glasses and
contact lenses up against the front door, where it would fall into
whoever next tried to exit, Dianne made a rude gesture at the nearest
security camera and left to complete her assignment.


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


(Don't Worry,) Be Happy 4/5 -- The Long Orange Veil
   by Dianne la Mercenaire <Cat.Goddess@pobox.com>
    (Under contract to the now-comatose Diane E. <Gryphon@execpc.com>)

[Timing: 3:25am Mon night/Tues morn.]



"Delivery!"

"Yeah, yeah. Get in line," Cynthia muttered. Even after the grand club
re-opening, the back door deliveries went on... and on.... She was
really starting to wonder where Janette had found suppliers to deliver
at such odd hours on a regular basis.

"So what is it this time," she asked, reaching automatically for the
proffered clipboard.  "Glassware? Liquor? Little black and red drink
umbrellas?"

"I'm from Siren's, ma'am," the deliveryperson responded in a rather
miffed tone. "These were purchased by a...." he checked the board... "
'Janet Dutcham' earlier today."

"Why am I not surprised?" Cynthia grumbled as she opened the door to
the back room. "You can put it here."

"Well, actually, there's more."

"More?"

"Um... yeah.  *Lots* more."

*******

Within a half hour Cynthia had received parcels from La Vie en Rose,
Madam Strang's House of Ill Repute, DarkAngel's Dangerous Liasions,
and half-a-dozen other of the finest stores in Toronto.

Finally closing (and _locking_!) the door behind her, she surveyed the
piles. Opening the top box closest to her, she found... a piece of
luggage.

Luggage? In concern she started opening more.

When she was done she had entire *sets* of luggage-- from about twenty
people, if she guessed right.  Twenty _good_ packers. Containing
clothes that her fine Raven sense of fashion told her could only have
come from one place.

"NatPackers?"


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


VAQ ACTIONS 5/?: Jamie takes Flight
Location: Toronto, Various, July 30, approximately 3:55 am
By Sherri Campbell

Follows VAQ: ACTIONS 4/?: Vachon Takes Flight

Jamie was sitting in the van, listening to KISS on the tapedeck, and
inhaling the aroma of her coffee. It was *ssooooo* nice to be driving
around with Dianne, and she had even provided the Coffee. This Was
Important. As Jamie was purring over the combined ecstasy of coffee
and KISS, she noticed a figure approaching the van.

Jamie gazed fuzzily at the person walking up the sidewalk toward her.
<blink><blink> Leaning forward, she began to shake slightly. He, oh
yes, HE, had long hair, and was wearing *spandex*; black spandex! Her
contentment vanished. She must see more. Touch him, explore the
territory. Yes, that was needed. Looking around, Jamie searched for
her Merc Mommy, but didn't see her. Turning back frantically at the
slowly strolling figure, she noticed he was fading into the darkness.
"Ooooooo, yummy man *not* go bye-bye!" she gasped quietly.

Quietly opening the door of the van, Jamie headed after the mysterious
figure. Reaching the limit of the light from the nearby lightpole, she
stumbled. Strong hands caught her, and steadied her until she caught
her balance. Peering up at her rescuer, she realized it was Vachon!
"Vachon? You're not dead! Coool! What are you doing here? and..." she
paused, scanned her eyes from feet to face, and smiled joyfully, "You
look *goooooood*! Why are you dressed like that?"

Vachon smiled a sparkling smile at Jamie. "I dressed this way for you,
my Jamie. I heard you would like it.  I also thought that I would take
you for an aerial flight over Toronto..."

Jamie had at first purred with delight at the thought that Vachon had
dressed in Spandex *especially* for her... then heard the fateful
words aerial *flight*, and panicked. "Oh, no, no, no... I can't fly! I
get vertigo, I get hysterics, I am not doing *up*!!"

Vachon gently gripped Jamie by her arms, and gathered her close. "Shh,
my Jamie. I can help you. Let me?"

Jamie looked up (as best she could, being under Vachon's chin) and
nodded trustfully. "I will let you help me." She smiled innocently.

Vachon leaned back slightly, and focused on her eyes. "Jamie" <thump
thump> "Jamie, listen to me. Let go your fear... you *have* no fear of
heights... you do *not* have vertigo..." <thump thump>

Jamie relaxed, repeating "No fear... No vertigo... "

Before Vachon released her from his will, he took out the cell phone
he was carrying.  Dialing rapidly, he waited for the connection.
"Hello, Torrey? I've got her. I'll be back to the church with her
before dawn." With a click he closed the phone, cutting off Torrey's
questions.

Vachon grinned at his kidnapping victim, breaking the connection.
"Want to go fly now, Jamie?"  The grin grew wider when Jamie responded
enthusiastically.

"I would *love* to fly! Can we see the CN Tower? Can we see Nick's
Loft from overhead? Please? I want to see it all!" Laughing, Vachon
grabbed her up, and took off into the night.
                 * * * *

A few minutes later, they were perched over Nick's Loft peering into
the skylight. There wasn't much to see, so Vachon lifted her up again,
and headed for the CN Tower.

Landing on the Tower, Vachon steadied Jamie so she could stand on the
top edge, and look at the city. It was beautiful...

Jamie turned to Vachon with tears in her eyes. "Thank you. Thank you
so much. I have always wanted to see this for myself, and I couldn't
get past the fear and vertigo."

Vachon slid his hand down the side of her face. "I understand, Jamie.
It's all right. I must warn you, though, that the fear may come back,
but hopefully it will be reduced in size if it does." Jamie nodded
gratefully, just glad to be on the Tower, in the night, with Vachon.
                     * * * *

It was nearly 4:29 when Vachon approached the church, with a sleeping
Jamie in his arms. As he landed on the roof, Torrey was standing there
tapping her foot, and looking at him. He smiled at her, and leaning
over carefully, pecked Torrey on the cheek. Then, carefully, as if he
were carrying fragile eggshells, he carried Jamie down to an unused
room and settled her in bed.


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


(Don't Worry,) Be Happy 5/5 -- I Heard Somebody Moo
   by Dianne la Mercenaire <Cat.Goddess@pobox.com>
    (Under contract to the now-comatose Diane E. <Gryphon@execpc.com>)

[Timing: 4am Mon night/Tues morn.]


Dianne stumbled out of the van near an old, abandoned church, mumbling
to herself.

"Damn those new high-tech security precautions anyway! Being a Merc
wasn't like it was in the Good Old Days<tm>! Then you could sneak
about as you pleased, trading secrets and smooth-talking your way past
the guards."

"Now it's just a mess-- retinal scans, infrared. *Geese*, for heaven's
sake! Ridiculous!  Soon a Merc won't be able to make a decent living
in this reality. Why when I was a newbie...."

She stopped when she noticed a smile on Jamie's face that suggested
that her internal monologue had wandered out past her lips when she
wasn't looking again. "Hmph!" she concluded, turning from the pile of
NatPack purses and reaching into her own bag for a popular novelty
item. All these high-tech precautions meant was the increasing need to
resort to lower- and lower-tech solutions.

After all-- if you can't beat 'em, trick 'em into beating themselves.

**********

Hearing a forlorn, plaintive lowing from the alley behind the church--
before it was drowned out by the sounds of many, many pissed-off
geese-- the Vaqueras emerged. Dragged from their sleep or their
preparations, they cautiously slipped out of the church--leaving
behind sentries, of course.

"Cherri?" the voices strained to be heard over the honking. "What
happened?  Cherri?"

Turning the corner, the first Vaqueras stopped. Directly in front of
them, in the center of the alley, was a mound of purses and shoulder
bags-- twenty or thirty at least.

This, in itself, was odd-- but not of great import to them. It was,
rather, the soft black tress laid atop the foremost bag that so
stunned them that no one noticed the lowing had mysteriously stopped.

"It's *his*!" The cry went up. "Whose are these? They're gonna *pay*
for what they did!"

Quickly, the small mob gathered up the purses-- each of which
contained some part of a lock of long dark hair-- and retreated into
the church. Within minutes, peace was restored to the night.

Once inside, some even noticed when Cousin Cherri came stumbling out
of the bathroom-- cursing at zippers and glue and mumbling to herself
'and they think _pantyhose_ are a pain!'

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

Dianne-- smiling, now that the Monster Night From Hell job was
*finally* complete-- sauntered back to the van.

"Jamie!  They went for it!  Mission accomplished, purses delivered,
and we are *out* of here!" With a big grin she opened the door and
swung herself into the passenger seat, looking across to find
Jamie...
                ...*gone*.

"Dead bunnies through a *straw*!" Dianne cursed. "*Big* ones!" She
added, as she looked frantically around for any sign of her errant
Merc Baby.


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


VAQ ACTIONS 6/?: The Phone Call
A Phone Booth in Toronto
July 30th, 4:05 am
By: Torrey Harris

I just noticed one part of this posted as 3/3. Sorry - It is open
ended at this point. This is during Jamie Takes Flight.

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

"I can't believe I am doing this." Torrey muttered to herself as she
made her way through the geese around the church. Once outside of the
gate she jumped into one of the vans and took off for the other side
of town.

Pulling up to the phone booth she had found earlier in the day, she
pulled a phone number out of her pocket and dialed.

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

"Dianne, please." Torrey replied, trying, but not succeeding in
disguising her voice.

"Hello?"  It was Dianne...time to put the plan into action.

"I have what you are missing, if you want her back unharmed have a
truck full of chocolate parked in front of the Raven in two hours. No
funny stuff, we will be watching." Torrey tried to keep her hands and
voice from shaking.

"What...who is this...how dare you!" Dianne practically screamed into
the phone.

"You heard our demand