*********************************************************************
                            War 7 File 5
*********************************************************************

Delightful Deliveries - Vaqueros(6/10)
by: Abby Albrecht
time 3pm on the 30th

[Yes, I'm working backwards... deal with it]

Abby had never been to the church before, but it looked a lot like she
thought it would. What that was, she wouldn't say. At least it was
groovy in an American Gothic sort of way.

Prewarned about the security system, Abby had no trouble being buzzed
in. It did take her a while to find Torrey and Sherri, but that was
ok. It gave her an opportunity to check out the area in case she
needed it later.

Two minutes later (every RDM deliveryperson wears a watch to ensure
prompt service) the two Vaqueras came down. "You said you had
something special for us, Torrey said warily.

"Yes ma'am," Abby said smartly as she pulled out her handy dandy clip
board. "Sign here... And here... And down here."

This time it was Sherri's turn to be wary. "What's she signing?"

"I don't know," Abby shugged. "M'boss told me to have these signed...
It says it's a petition to have Bigg Fun play at our head quarters."

"Suicide, Don't Do It?" Torrey asked.

"That's them," Abby nodded. "Anyway, enjoy!" With that, Abby left the
building and went back to the store for more chocolates.

The Vaqueras looked at each other. "Should we open it?" Sherri asked.

"Why not," Torrey replied. "It can't be deadly, this is a War after
all."

They both agreed and tore open the box. Inside was a beautiful boquet
of white roses, two boxes of chocolates, a card, and a flyer for RDM
advertising the rest of their stock.

Torrey read the card while Sherri tried the chocolates. "This gift is
brought to you by RDM Chocolateers and the Mercenary Guild. Please
enjoy. And contact us if you'd like to purchase more..."

"MMmmm, good milk chocolate!" Sherri exclaimed.

"Milk chocolate? Cute!" Torrey smiled.

"Huh?" was all she could mumble through a mouthful of chocolate.

"Milk... From cows... We're Vaqueras..." Torrey grinned. At least it
was good chocolate...


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


At the Church
After the gift from Abby
A Little Gift For Us
By: Torrey Harris
*******************

Abby had just left and the two Vaquero leaders sat down to enjoy the
chocolate.

"Hey, Torrey." Sherri mumbled around a mouthful of chocolate "How
did she manage to get in here with out running into a bunch of crazy
Vaqueros trying to fix all of the stuff that happened today?"

"It's simple." Torrey answered "I kind of forgot she was coming so
when I saw her I put everyone over there."

"What the heck is that?" Sherri asked looking at a shimmering line
running across the room.

"That, my friend is the timeline. Now all we need to do is poke a
hole in it, jump back through."

"You sure you want to go back?" Sherri asked.

"Ya, I guess we better." With that Torrey got up grabbed Sherri and
pushed her through the timeline and back to the wonderful world of
war.

Thanks for the gift Abby!


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


Delightful Deliveries - Knighties(5/10)
by: Abby Albrecht

Time ... um 5pm. on the 30th

Even during the day the area around Nick's loft smelled funky. But at
least the rats were asleep!

Abby went straight for the security camera this time and hit the
intercom, hoping someone was there.

"Yeah?" Perri's voice drawled out. "What'cha want Abby?"

"Special delivery," she responded, far too perkily for her own good.
"Can I come up?"

Instead of responding, Abby heard the door in front of her unlock. It
had been a while since she had been in this elevator. Memories of
angsting over Nick flooded back. *Now they pay me to angst!* Abby
thought wickedly.

Moments later the elevator came to a stop. Before Abby could move,
Perri slid the door open with a flourish. "You rang?"

Abby straightened the cap on her head and strode perposfully into the
loft. She placed the large cardboard box she'd been carrying [I had
too been carrying it all this time!;] on the floor in front of the
kitchen table. She whipped a clipboard out of that magical place that
only delivery people know about. "Sign here please," Abby said as she
handed Perri a stylish brown pen with the initials RDM in a nice gold
scroll work.

"You chould check the package first, Perri," Catherine warned.

"Hi Cath!" Abby said, turning to try to find she who laughs a lot.
"What's up? Oh... I've got something you'll like when I get back to
school!"

"Tell me that again after the War and I _may_ believe you," Catherine
said as she came down the stair case. "So, Perri. You wanna open it,
or should I?"

Perri went for a knife in Knight's kitchen while she responded, "I'll
do it. If Abby hurts me, I still know people who can change her
grades."

"Sheesh! First Torrey doesn't trust me, now you?!? Is it so hard to
believe this is a good gift?"

"Yes!" her friends replied in unison, giggling uncontrollably. Abby
sulked off into the corner mumbling about friends and trust.

"Awww," Catherine whispered to Perri. "I think we hurt her feelings."

Perri looked over her shoulder at Abby. "Hey! Get your arse over here,
Abby. We trust you!... Most of the time."

"It's ok, I have to get going anyway," Abby smiled back. "So much time
and so little to do." She walked back and hugged her friends good bye.
"Remember, if you need help finding Nick's little brown book, I'm
available."

With that Abby sashayed [It's my story, I can sashay... I just can't
spell] out of the loft and on to her next delivery.

Perri shrugged her shoulders and examined the box more carefully. On
each side was the RDM Chocolateer logo, and the top was sealed with
clear tape. Perri smiled wickedly and attacked the tape. Then they
both tore open the flaps.

On the top was a boquet of yellow roses. "Yellow?" Catherine asked.

Perri smiled slightly, "the yellow rose of Texas... Bad Abby! Real
bad!"

"Ugggghhh," Catherine groaned. Lifting up the roses, they came upon a
card and two boxes of Godiva (tm) feather chocolates.

Catherine opened the card while Perri at... Tested the chocolate. She
read the card aloud, "Please enjoy these chocolates and the roses. We
at the RDM and the Mercenary Guild hope you enjoy them." Catherine
looked up, *Mercs giving something away?* She continued reading. "If
you would like more, feel free to come to our shop at any time..."

"It's a sales pitch, cute!" Catherine said sarcastically.

Perri smiled a chocolate smile, and looked back in the box. There was
a sheet of paper in it. Looking more closely, she decided it deserved
a place on the fridge. It was a flyer with all of RDM's chocolates and
flowers listed with prices.


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


Hide n' Seek
(not long after Lizbet's 'A Rat's a Rat for That!')
by Tigon Diana Hooker

Evening-30 JUL 1996
Toronto, FG Mansion


Tigon had given up trying to wash the smell of Lebanon Baloney from
her two fingertips and had began plotting how to get Lizbet back for
exposing her to the stuff in the firstplace. She had decided on
ordering pizza...lots of it...and other carbohydrate loaded things for
dinner tomorrow. Poor carbohydrate-forbidden Lizbet... an evil laugh
emerged from Tigon.

Evil mischief sparkling her eyes, she bounced down the basement stairs
to begin the process of feeding her pack. It didn't take but a moment
to realize that Timon was missing. Sighing as she quickly fed the dogs
(it just was NOT a good idea to put off a vampires meal!), she began
formulating her search plan.

He couldn't have gone outside...it was still light. He had to be
somewhere in the house. Finding a rat in a house this size could prove
interesting though. Dogs fed, she had them begin sniffing about while
she started looking in the more obvious places. He wasn't in the
cracker box, his lego house, her backpack, or any of the dogs'
saddlebags. The dogs were just as flumuxed...but then, it was
difficult to track one little flying rat that had already criss-
crossed the house with his scent.

Sighing, Tigon began a more thorough search.

The problem with Timon was that he *could* be playing an elaborate
game of hide n' seek. In other words, he wasn't cooperating in his
search and rescue. It was amazing how many nooks and crannies a house
could have. At one point, Tigon scooped up what looked like an old
Shillelagh left conveniently leaning against the fire place, using it
to gently sweep under couches and into out-of-reach places.

She had searched the basement, first floor, and most of the second
with no luck. Faced with Lizbet's padlocked room, her heart once again
quailed within her chest at the prospect of entering that beyond-
disaster-area. She decided Timon was far too neat and tidy a creature
to be in there, and eliminated the possibility. Finally there was only
Lisa's (or Suk's, or Angelique's) room to search.

Very quietly, Tigon eased open the door and crept in. On her bed, the
woman slept undisturbed. Tigon paused and marvelled how peaceful and
innocent vampires (or wanna-be vampires) look when they sleep.

After going through the closet and drawers and checking all the
corners of the room, Tigon approached the giant antique bed. Gingerly
she raised the dust ruffle and peered underneath...there! Back against
the wall was a small white, pudgy something. Who else could it be but
her errant VampRat.

Carefully she extended the Shillelagh, but it didn't reach.

Muttering very bad words to herself, Tigon began to carefully squirm
under the bed and towards the rat. She got stuck, of course, and
muttered even *badder* words. Extending the Shillelagh again, she was
able to reach the rat. She swept it unresisting form toward her,
dropping the shillelagh to grab it.

Then she began *inventing* words to mutter...what was a pair of SOCKS
doing under here???

Suddenly, the Shillelagh was yanked out from beside her...

An enraged bellow emerged from someone and Tigon began to try to
squirm back out, given unexpected aid when two strong hand grabbed her
firmly by the ankles and YANKED. With a yelp, Tigon flew nearly all
the way from under the bed, only to see a wrathful figure, bearing a
shillelagh, out of the corner of her eye. Trying to flip over into a
more defensable position, Tigon's head firmly introduced itself to the
bed's solid wood frame. Very solid wood.

A foot nudged the dazed Tigon the rest of the way over. Peering
through a starry haze, Tigon managed to say, "Lisa?"

"No."

Tigon shook her head, and found that it was *not* the way to clear it.
"Suk?" she asked hopefully.

"No."

Great, thought Tigon, "Angelique...I can explain...have you seen my
rat?"

In the dark room, and through her blurry vision, the figure standing
above Tigon even *seemed* to grow more like the statuesque and ancient
vampire. Once again Tigon's own sense of reality was warped and
twisted as she struggled to remember the ruled of the universe.

"I trusted you," hissed Angelique, "And you creep into my room to slay
me with this." She shook the Shillelagh and raised it above her head
with both arms. "I shall slay your treacherous soul as you intended to
slay me!"

Tigon struggled to get her arms up in a protective position.

"Damn you, Tigon!" The Shillelagh swung downward.


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


Hell Hath No Fury Like a Woman Scorned!
by: Cousin Candice
date: Tuesday, July 30th
time: All of Tuesday afternoon till midnight
Place: "Eastside, westside, all around the town..."

Candice crashed into the suite like a woman on the lunatic fringe.
She was ready to kill the Enforcer, even if it meant getting all
bloody -this was -war-.

She HATED the feeling of being used like so much baggage to carry an
article just to have it ripped from her the minute she let her guard
down!

"DAMN it!"  Candice put on the first thing that was handy (in this
case, a white tee-shirt and ripped jeans-), grabbed the ever-present
backpack and as soon as she found her keys she bounded down the
stairwell to the parking garage and sped out onto the highway.

She would find that damn vampire if it took her all day and night.


***Midnight: Several hundred miles later on the spedometer***

Candice slumped her shoulders at the red light.  She had been all over
the city, *everywhere*, and there was no sign of Ron.  Candice didn't
know where the DHHQ was and she felt, ...well....impotent.

A few more turns and she was back at the Raven.  She was sure she
wouldn't find any answers there, but parked down the block anyway.

Candice had to wait in line (for the first time!) because she wasn't
dressed properly.

"Doesn't matter anyway....didn't find him..." she muttered to the wind
as it picked up and swirled about her.

She sulked at the bar all night until someone nudged her out of her
stupor when the bar closed.


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


Delightful Deliveries: Die Hards (8/10)...or Sneaking Socks (1/4)
by Kira Chistiakoff <kira@ap.net>
Tuesday July 30, 1996; Late Afternoon

As the "champagne" colored wagon (champagne? why on earth would they
choose to call it champagne??) pulled up to the gate, a guard stepped
out.

"Can I help you?"

"Where can I park? I've got a delivery for...Ron or for Laura
Ruggerio."

"Laura Ruggerio isn't here, she went back to IL."

"How about Ron, is he here?"

He pointed me to an open parking space, but wouldn't let me through
the gate. Oh, well, I'd anticipated that.

I walked around to the rear of the wagon, and made sure I had
everything before I grabbed my backpack, and slung it across one
shoulder. Then I picked up the box of red Roses, and the box of Swiss
chocolate truffles, making sure the card was still attached, and
started to close the trunk when I remembered th flyer...Geez! I kept
reminding the other two not to forget the flyers, so *I* almost do it!
So, I grabbed a flyer, slapped it on the box, and closed the trunk of
the car.

I walked up to the gaurd, who's nametag said,"George" and I greeted
him by name.

"I've got a delivery here for Laura Ruggerio, (DOH! I already told him
that!) one half dozen roses, and one box of chocolates, there's a card
there, and here's the flyer that goes with it.  I just need you to
sign here."

The entire time, I can't stand still, I just kind of prance in place,
and George keeps giving me weird looks.

"Look, I *really* need to use the facilities, would you mind?"

Since he believed he had ascertained I was (fairly) harmless, (an
erroneous assumption) he let me through the gate, and pointed me in
the right direction.  Which was, of course, exactly what I wanted him
to do.

I went off in the direction he had shown me, and once I had entered
the building, went directly to the bathroom (I really did have to go,
you know) as quickly as I could.  I had to make this fast before he
suspected anything.  Luckily, women have a reputation for taking
inordinately long in the bathroom.

Once I concluded my business there, I quickly snuck into the living
quarters, and stuffed every sock I could find into my backpack.
Chances of the guard noticing were slim. I got out of the building as
quickly as possible, one never knows who's around!

As I walked back by the guard, I stopped, thanked him, and made sure
he'd signed on the dotted line. I hopped back into the car, and
gleefully went on to the next delivery.


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


Delightful Deliveries: Perks (9/10)...or Sneaking Socks (2/4)
By Kira Chistiakoff <kira@ap.net>
Tuesday July 30, 1996; Late Afternoon

I walked up to the reception desk of The Four Seasons Hotel, two boxes
in my arms, and asked, "What would the number of your best suite be?"

The person behind the counter just gave me a blank stare.

"Ummmm, excuse me? I'm to deliver these to Partly K and Kristina, I
was told they're in the best suite."

He registered some sort of life, at least he was breathing (I think).

"Would it be on the top floor?"

All I got was a blink.

"OK, I'll take that as a yes, thank you, you've been most helpful," I
said sarcastically.

I climbed onto the elevator, and made sure I had everything before
punching the button for the top floor. /This place is really nice!
Even if the help are imbeciles!/

I stepped off the elevator on the top floor, and it didn't take me
long to figure out which direction I should be going, I could smell
the Perkiness coming from one side of the building (not to mention the
aroma of coffee). I followed my overly-sensitive nose, and came to a
door which I regarded for a moment, surprised, because there was
nothing there to indicate what was behind the door.

I knocked on the door, knowing that whoever opened that door was going
to have too much energy to spare, wondering if it were scientifically
possible to transfer that sort of energy, and deciding that it was
something to look into.

"HI! I'M ROBIN" said the person who opened the door.

"Hi," I said rather more sedately than necessary, "I have a delivery
here for Partly K and Kristina."

"Come on in<bounce>. They're in the other room," she said, pointing
through the door.

I walked into the next room, and was pleasantly surprised to find two
seemingly normal people, even if they were too happy (IMHO).

"Hi, K and Kristina? I have a delivery here for you. A half-dozen
Yellow Roses and a box of Mocha Truffles, courtesy of the Merc Guild's
latest venture, The RDM. Please sign here."

"Neat-o!"

"Could I possibly intrude long enough to use the ladies' room? I've
got a bunch more deliveries to make."

"Of course! It's right through that door, and on the left!"

"That door" leading of course to the bedroom. Giving me ample
opportunity to both use the facilities, and swipe all their socks with
them being none the wiser.

[Author's Note: I'm known across 8 states (at least) and 4 countries
(that I can think of) for having to go to the bathroom every 10
minutes]

As I left, I retrieved my clipboard, double checked to see they had
indeed signed, and left them in the happy land of truffles.


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


Delightful Deliveries: Cousins (10/10)...or Sneaking Socks (3/4)
By Kira Chistiakoff
July 30, 1996; Late Afternoon

I had volunteered to deal with the Cousins, because I have several
Cousin friends, but they weren't supposed to be here today. So I was
feeling a bit bummed.

I resigned myself to a typical work filled, unexciting day, grabbed
the box of white roses, the Lemon Truffles, and the Raspberry
Truffles, almost forgot my backpack, and headed inside.

Once inside, I greeted the receptionist, told her I had a delivery for
Lisa or Tok, but that one of the Cousins had to sign for it.
(Otherwise, I would never get upstairs) She called upstairs for one of
the cousins, and lo and behold, in walked Cousin Shirl!

"Shirl!!"

"Kira!!"

"Hey! I'm so glad you're here, I was hoping one of you would be!!
Cherri's not, and there's no clue as to where TEDT, or April are."

"They're all around somewhere...you wanna take a quick look around?"

"Could I? I've always wanted to see this place."

"Well, I can't show you much, just what's not restricted."

"That's OK, I know rules, and all."

***

A short time later

"Well, that's the nickel tour of CERK."

"Thanks Shirl. One thing you forgot to show me though."

"What's that?"

"The Ladies' Room."

"You and your bladder! Sheesh!  It's through that door, up those
stairs, and on the right."

"You're the best, Shirl!"

"You remember that! I'll wait here."

So of course, I follow her directions, avail myself of the facilities
(yet again!), and make a quick check of all the rooms for any socks I
might have missed the first time, as I head back down the stairs.

When I get back downstairs, we talk a little while longer, while we
head back out to the front desk where I left the roses and chocolate.
Shirl signs for them, I make her promise that Lisa and Tok will get
the chocolate (at least *some* of it), and I leave, because I still
have two more stops to make.

By this time, the back of the wagon is full of socks, I've got
invoices that need to be entered into the computer, and I've still got
a poker game waiting for me.

I stop by the RDM on the way back to Merc Central, spend a half an
hour entering in the invoices Abby and Lane had left for me, lock up
the store on my way out, and head back to MC with a good days work not
quite finished yet.


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


The Poker Game...or Sneaking Socks (4/4)
by Kira Chistiakoff
July 30, 1996; Late Afternoon/Early Evening
This comes after Delightful Deliveries (10/10)

As I walked through the door to Merc Central with a bag of socks in my
arms (being a CA girl, I don't wear socks, and the only ones I own, I
left at home with the rest of my uniform), I saw the whole group was
starting to get impatient.

"Sorry, guys, I had to close up the shop, and it took longer than I
expected.  Just let me change and go to the bathroom, and I'll be
ready to start." (yes, I've got to go AGAIN!)

**
5 minutes later:

"OK, much better, ya'll ready?"  I had changed into a pair of leggings
and an FK t-shirt, no shoes, and felt much better. "Here's the cards,
someone want to shuffle them first?" (so we all know it's an honest
deal.)

"Give 'em to me," replied Berg, who promptly spent 2 minutes being
sure the cards were properly randomized.

The seven of us slowly converged on the table, bringing with us
glasses of soda, potato chips, pretzels, and whatever that stuff in
the bowl was. Chex Mix?

When he handed me back the cards, I made sure everybody was clear on
what we were doing.

"OK, the game's 5-card draw, nothing wild, and the opening bet's one
sock."

Everybody tossed a sock on the table while I dealt the cards. When
Dianne pulled hers out, I made sure to ask, "That is a *clean* sock,
right?"

Naturally, she just glared at me.

Looking at my hand, I was stuck with a dilemma, I could go for the
outside straight, but I knew all 4 fives were already on the table
(the cards, naturally, being marked) so I had to go for the flush.

Dianne drew 3, Berg, Sonja, and Erin each took 2, Dawn and John 3, Mel
2.

I folded with bubkus, Dianne had 3 6's,  Sonja 3 Ace's, Dawn a pair of
9's, John 3 3's,Berg, Erin  and Mel all folded.

Of course, noone else knew what they had, so I watched the betting go
around the table a bit, before Sonja took the pot.

The next hand was Erin's with a straight to the King, I went down with
a pair. (I had to make it look good)

The third hand I took with 2 pair (K over Q), and so we progressed.


***
Half an hour later:

Dianne was down to one pair of socks, her red sleeping socks, she had
2 pair, I had a heart flush, (which, of course she didn't know). I let
her bet her 2 socks as 4 (because they're just so special!), we played
out the hand, and she was done.  She sulked off to her office,
mumbling about how she knows better than to gamble with Mercs.

With a seat open, Leigh (my roomate) asked if she could join us, and
since she had the prerequisite bag of socks, naturally we let her.

***
During the next half an hour, Dawn was the next to go, followed slowly
by the others, ending only when I had all the socks at the table
(noone ever said this was a fair game) and everybody was wondering how
I managed to wipe them all out in just 15 hands...I shuffled the deck
one more time, did a Vegas fan on the table, after cutting the cards
with one hand, and they knew they'd been had.

Berg tried to haggle with me to get his socks back, but noone else
bothered, they all knew it was pointless...Mercs always play for
keeps!

***

The other 9 Mercs were pretty simple to take care of, some I did with
dice, a few more with cards, and one a straight trade for one of my FK
jackets.


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


Studying Hard?
Author: Gaylin "Jasmine" Walli, gjwalli@mtu.edu
Time: Wednesday afternoon


I'm sure I grunted my thanks at whoever it was who kept refilling my
coffee mug. But for the most part I tried to ignore the goings on
around me. I'm pretty good at it really, having been around seven
brothers and sisters for most of my high school career. Of course,
that was a long time ago. Now I have two cats. It's about the same.

The lingering shadow across my books was what first alerted me to
something more than a kind Sister or Brother refilling my mug again,
so I lifted my head and squinted at the person in front of me. I'd
been focusing too long up close and it took me a minute or two to
figure out who it was.

"Tami?" I questioned. I still wasn't seeing straight.

"And on the first try even. Good for you." I could start to see her
grin now that my eyes were beginning to work. Then she frowned and I
could hear her toe start to tap as I watched her cross her arms over
her chest.

"What was the last thing you remember eating?" she said with eyebrows
raised.

Amazing how protective these Ravens and Ravenettes were. Let's
see...food. I remembered having something. But how long ago had it
been?

"DingDingDing. Time's up. If you can't remember by now, it's been too
long. You know better." If I wasn't careful she was going to start
waggling a finger at me.

"Alright. I'll get something." I sighed. Group communication theory.
Psychology. Creativity and innovation. Boring to most people, but I
tended to get caught up in it while I was working. Most of the people
here knew me well enough to know that I would forget to eat.

"A mere promise to get something is not good enough," Tami admonished
and pointed at me.

Damn. There went the finger. Waggled right in my face.

"It's Janette's orders this time. Eat something. She suggested
protein, but I'm sure she was being sarcastic." She pointed the
offending finger at the telephone. "Go order something now and have it
delivered."

I sighed again, this time for dramatic effect, and pushed my books
aside to stand.

"Yes, Mom." I said sticking my tongue out at her. But then I smiled.
"You guys are too good to me. Thanks for letting me stick around while
I'm finishing this up. And let me know if you need anything. I'm sure
I'm going to need a break sometime in here somewhere.  There's only so
much thesis you can read at one time."

Contrary to local opinion, it *is* possible to work on your thesis and
be in a war at the same time.

As I trooped off to the phone I heard her yell, "And order something
for Catherine too!"


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


Delightful Deliveries (Nick&NatPackers) (1/10)

7pm, Tuesday, July 30

by Lane Lombardia, Soulseeker, Kira Chistiakoff, and Abby Albrecht

He had thought it was to have been the first delivery of the day; but,
the written message saying when and where, hadn't actually said 7AM,
as he had thought; but, 7PM. As a consequence, this was his second
attempt to deliver the half dozen pale, pink roses,a card with
exquisite calligraphy, all-important bright Yellow flyer (which he was
told to deliver at all costs) detailing the prices and stressing the
extreem speed of delivery which RDM offered, and 2 packages of rare
German chocolate (he was told that it was German; but, as he couldn't
actually read whatever language the label was written in, he had to
take it on faith).

As a result of the scheduling SNAFU, he had been tolerating the
pungent scent of chocolate all day, and he was quite a bit less than
thrilled about it. The less handling of chocolate that he had to do,
the happier he was about the whole matter.

The roses and chocolate were intended as advertising to respective
factions that RDM was open for business. Lane wanted to make as
positive an impression as possible, since he really wanted this new
Guild business to do well; but, the smell of chocolate had impregnated
itself upon his clothing (which he was considering burning if washing
didn't get rid of it.

Ever the consumate Mercenary, there was no way to read his distaste
for chocolate upon his face or body language. Nothing would be allowed
to spoil the quality of his work.

The address he had been given was for an innocuous-looking house; but,
instincts honed experience told him that this place was a fortress. He
had been told *exactly* where to park, and *specifically* what route
to walk from the car to the door. As he carried out the instructions,
he noticed the slight, and almost imperceptible depression of the
walkway flagstone, while walking over it. "Pressure pad," he mused to
himself. Of course that meant that they had temporarily set up the
pathway he now took, disabling some portion of their security network
for the duration.

Arriving at the door, curiously looking like a would-be suitor, he
knocked on the door (the admonishment not to use the doorbell had been
very emphatic).

When the door opened, he was greeted by the unfriendly muzzle of a,
presumably fully loaded, super-soaker, pressed into his nose, and the
piercing glare of a bank of tiny Phillips halogen projector lamps.

Icy cool under fire, Lane smiled. An unfriendly audience was no big
deal, so long as the mission was a success.

Squinting to see around the blazing illumination, "Soulseeker?" he
enquired.

A voice responded, "Yes?"

"I'm from RDM, Rich, Dark, and Mysterious, purveyor of fine
chocolates, and exquisite roses." "As part of a promotional effort,
these items are for you," he said, indicating the bundle in his arms.

Very smoothly and slowly, he handed the chocolates, the roses, the
flyer, and the acknowledgement to her, or at least, whomever was
standing there identifying herself as the leader of the N&NPackers.

"I'll need you to sign for those, on that acknowledgement," he
continued, his nose being squashed into his face even harder by the
Soaker wielding N&NPacker. For just a second, he debated grabbing the
Super Soaker, and using it to short the lamps, which were really
starting to hurt his glare-sensitive eyes; but, he just stood there
smiling calmly.

The signed acknowledgent was thrust back into his hands, and the lamps
extinguished.

By the time the flash-blindness had subsided, the door was closed and
locked. Checking the acknowledgement to ensure that it was signed, he
turned and left for the car.

A long day was nearly over.


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


The Birthday Package
by Laura MacMillan and the N&NPack
Tuesday 30/96   around 8:00pm
N&NPack Headquarters

Laura looked at her watch, shortly before 8:00pm and the package still
hadn't arrived yet. She started to pace. Several of the N&NPackers
looked at her nervously. They knew it wasn't a good sign when Laura
started pacing. Mel and Idalia approached her.

"Laura, what's wrong?" Idalia questioned.

"The package hasn't gotten here yet, it was supposed to be here by 6pm
and it's almost 8pm," Laura stated.

"Package? What package?" asked Mel.

"The one for Chana's birthday. The party is tonight and I was wanted
to give it to her then," responded Laura

"Oh...I'm sure it will be here," Mel reassured her.

Just then the alarms went off. Someone was outside.


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


The Birthday Package 2/2
by Laura MacMillan and the N&NPack
Tuesday 30/96   around 8:00pm
N&NPack Headquarters

Scott and Lisa came rushing past us, holy water supersoakers in hand.
When he reached the front door he signaled  to Lisa to move to the
side where she had a perfect view of the opening door. Laura watched
amazed at how cautious Scott had become every since his meeting with
the mystery man. Laura was lucky that he let her leave the house at
all every since the warning of impending danger.

Scott turned to Laura. "All clear. It's the package you were
expecting." Laura stepped past Lisa and Scott and came face to face
with a very startled delivery boy. He handed her the package and
rushed down the walk way not even waiting for her sign for the
package.

Laura carried the package to the living room with all the curious
N&NPackers folllowing her. Finally Mel spoke, "What's in it?" Laura
opened the package deliberately slowly. When she had finally opened it
and revealed the contents. The room was filled with ahhs and oohs.

"Can I see it, please?" questioned Idalia. Laura nodded. Idalia
reached into the box and pulled out its contents. In her hands she led
the specially designed N&NPack t-shirt, N&NPack mug and N&NPack
backpack.


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


Delightful Deliveries (Ravenettes) (4/10)

9pm, Tuesday, July 30

by Lane Lombardia, Susan M. Garrett, Kira Chistiakoff, and Abby Albrecht

This was the last delivery of his day, and it had been a long one at
that. Four in the morning had been a looooooooong time ago, and he was
on his last leg. Fortunately, since one of his deliveries had taken
him by the Raven earlier today, there was, at least, a welcome
familiarity about the place. On the other hand, it was stunning, just
how differnet the place looked and felt in the evening, rather than
the morning.

He was still making every effort to be as non-threatening as possible,
and, therefore was completely bereft of anything that he would regard
as a serviceable weapon. Seeing the Raven in the evening really
brought home that fact, as the notion that it was, ultimately, a
Vampires' bar ran across his consciousness.

The mission payload, this last time, was a half dozen deep burgundy
roses, which in the evening gloom almost looked the color of blood, a
card with exquisite calligraphy, the all-important bright Yellow flyer
detailing the prices and stressing the extreem speed of delivery which
RDM offered, and 2 packages of rare Parisian chocolate truffles (he
had to take this on faith too, as he couldn't read French any more
than he could fathom Dutch or German).

He wanted to get in, make the delivery, and get out, preferably under
his own power, and the less handling of the chocolate that he had to
do in the bargain, the happier he was about the whole matter.

The roses and chocolate were intended as advertising to respective
factions that RDM was open for business. Lane wanted to make as
positive an impression as possible, since he really wanted this new
Guild business to do well. He _always_ wanted the Guild to do well.

Approaching the bouncer, who seemed to be still waking up, Lane
explained that he had a delivery of roses and chocolates for Susan
Garrett. Presumably, the presence of the aforementioned items, in
plain view persuaded the, undoubtedly powerful, bouncer to grant him
access, in full protest of the line of wannabees hoping to get luck
and get into Raven.

In stark contrast to his earlier delivery to the Raven, it was now lit
as one expected. It was at its height, and exuded a power unto itself
that mere bricks and mortar lack. Lane was not about to stick around
long and attract the attention of any of what Janette referred to as
"strays".

Standing at the bar, he enquired, as quietly as one could in a
fashionable club, where he could find Susan Garrett, explaining, as he
had to the bouncer, that the roses and chocolate were for her. The
bartender told him to wait, and disappeared into the gloom.

Lane felt the Sa-Ki* (not to be confused with sa-ke) exuding from
several individuals who, evidently, were considering having him over
for breakfast (or was that _as_ breakfast?)

Appearing as if from nowhere, Susan Garrett, leader of the Raven/ettes
stood in front of him, eyeing him suspiciously.

"Hello Susan. These roses and chocolates are for you, as leader of the
Raven/ettes. I'm from RDM, a Mercenary Guild enterprise, and we're
trying to increase awareness of our business."

Showing the dark burgundy blooms of the roses to her, he presented the
delivery to her, and asked her to sign for them, snatching up a pen
from the bar, and handing it to her to sign the delivery
acknowledgement.

Her face said that she suspected some devious trick from at any
second; but, he just smiled, accepting the ackowledgement form,
turned, and left, while he still had a pulse.

Epilog:
Weary from the stress of handling chocolate, although the lovely
fragrance of the roses did help somewhat, Lane dropped off his
acknowledgement forms, running them through the OCR scanners, and
entering the needed data. While he didn't have nay retail experience,
this portion wasn't that different from dozens of data entry jobs he
had worked in.

Locking the door behind him, he returned the car to the Guild motor
pool and headed in.



*Sa-Ki: Japanese, meaning "force of the killer" or "killing
intention".


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


Udder Revenge (01/02)
By Brutal Cousin Karies, (Cerk Jerk@aol.com)
<< Timeline: Tuesday July 30th  10:00 pm
with Cousin Cherri, and Cousin Leslie, the LaCroixian Beta Reader.
++++++++++++++++++
The DJ kept pace with Karies as she wove through the CERK hallways,
hurrying, as if she were on an important mission.  He was Nattering on
about all the comedians he had interviewed on his off-beat lunch time
comedy show.  All alternative radio stations had comedy slots at lunch
time, probably to relieve the listeners' morning stress, she figured.
When she came to an abrupt stop, the little DJ slammed into her.
"Really?" she asked, "just last week you interviewed him?  Which
booth?"

The DJ looked at her quizzically.  "Um ... three, yeah, three."

"Cool."

She started towards the sound stages, he picked up after her.  She
turned rather brutally.  "Don't you have something to do, Loony
Larry?"

"That's Lunar Larry."

"Oh, of course it is.  I'll catch you later."  She scurried off,
muttering under her breath.

Karies rooted through the small fridge in the wall bar in interview
room three, which she was convinced would contain what she sought. She
heard someone enter, heard them sneeze, but carried on.  She heard the
person sneeze again, an odd sneeze, but she still rustled through the
cans and bottles and juice boxes.

"Gehirn!"

She whirled at the sound of LaCroix's stern voice.  "Uh ... yeah?"

"I called you three times."

"I thought you were sneezing, Gen'ral."

"We don't sneeze."

"I s'pose not."

"What are you doing?"

"Looking for a de-caffeinated Diet Coke in the beer fridge."

"Why are you looking for a de-caffeinated Diet Coke in the beer
fridge?"

Karies melted.  Looking all innocence, she asked, "What?"

But he didn't give her the pleasure of repeating himself.  "Why?  When
you were supposed to be getting me the super glue solvent?"

"Oh, yeah," she muttered, blushing.  "It's in my car, I'll go right
now."  She brushed passed him as she hurried out the door.

"Gehirn."

"Yo?"

"And bring me ... The Cow."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Karies peered into the CERK conference room.  There sat Cousins Shirl,
April, Tammy, Lu, Anne, Lashoka, Erik, Julie and Starr.  Starr was
frantically waving, describing a plan of action that was obviously
coming straight from her Cousinly heart.  She grinned, they must be
planning Udder Revenge.  Cherri sat regally at the head of the table,
commanding respect from the Cow Crowd even as she sat in the absurd
cow costume.

Karies tapped lightly on the glass door, Cherri waved her in.  "The
Gen'ral wants to see you, Cherri."

The room came alive with worried mutterings.  He could still be peeved
at Cherri, even after nearly seven months.  The General was not one to
forget a transgression.

Cherri bravely rose to her feet, mustering what seemed to be the last
shreds of her dignity.  They silently strode up the hallway to where
LaCroix stood, leaning almost aimlessly on the door to the interview
booth.  He grinned sweetly at the sight of Cherri, still finding
himself sadistically entertained by her predicament.

He had enjoyed dark fantasies of cutting the hideous costume off the
attractive Cousin bit by bit, exposing her tingling body to the open
air for the first time in over six months.  Once he even woke to dream
images of tearing the costume off with his fangs.  But the Cousin had
given her word she would return the costume unharmed, and a Cousin's
word was as good as his own.

The way LaCroix looked at Cherri made Karies uneasy, and she stepped
protectively in front of her, getting right down to business.  "This
super glue solvent is highly toxic.  Cherri knows all about the health
hazards of solvents, but let me explain anyway.  The costume, being a
costume, won't have a placard behind the zipper, so if any of the
solvent seeps through, it could burn right through the fabric of her
clothing.  I brought some damp cloths, just in case, we have to wipe
it off as soon as possible, and some rubber strips."  She held up some
strips of rubber, about two inches wide and various lengths and a box
of disposable gloves.  "I suggest we slide the rubber in between the
suit and Cherri, before applying the solvent."

"And we should open the windows, turn on the ceiling fan."  Cherri
switched on the fan, moved over to open the window.  Karies opened the
solvent.  It reeked of the harsh chemical mix.

"Leave us.  I'll do this."  The General spoke softly, but with
command.  "The chemicals won't bother my lungs."

"Um ... okay." Karies replied, glancing sympathetically at Cherri.
They still didn't know what LaCroix had on his mind.

"My dear," he spoke, circling Cherri, "you look udderly ridiculous."
He chuckled softly at his own joke, as he was wont to do.  She
deserved her internment in the costume, for having been foolish enough
to get into such a bind, but she had suffered enough degradation.  He
pulled on a pair of the rubber gloves, grimacing at first that they
were only size medium, but as he snapped them on, they felt like
another layer of skin against his own.

The solvent couldn't do any permanent damage to him, but he loathed
the smell of his own flesh burning.  Holding out the costume fabric
where the zipper began at her neck, wrapping around to fasten the
helmet mask on, he slid a piece of rubber between Cherri and the
zipper.  As he formed the rubber over her jugular, the sensation was
the same as if he was running his fingers across her flesh.

He marveled at the coolness of her flesh, she was one of those rare
cold blooded humans.  Goosebumps rose on Cherri's flesh as she felt
his hands moving over her.  Once the first strip of rubber was in
place LaCroix applied a thin layer of solvent, careful to watch for
any signs of discomfort from Cherri.  By the time he coated the entire
neck piece of the zipper, just to where it turned to go down her
collarbone, the solvent had made the glue break down, and he pulled
the zipper around, almost effortlessly.

He tugged at the Helmet, waiting in anticipation to see her kind face
once more, but it was stuck.  Cherri grunted.  "Oh dear," he sighed.
"This won't do, we need a lubricant."

LaCroix opened the door, saw Karies sitting in the next soundbooth
mapping something out on a planning board with Cousin Leslie.  They
were arguing like sailors, and he raised his eyebrows at their
butchery of the English language.  He caught Karies' eye and jerked
his head for her to come to him.  "Yeah?"  she asked, surprised to see
him surface so quickly.  "Everything okay?"

"No, the blasted helmet is stuck.  I need some lubricant."

"Ah ... LaC-- Gen'ral, Dude, you don't really think I carry lubricant
in my car, do you?"

He knitted his brows, hissed, "Find something!"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Continued in part two (02/02)


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


Down Into Chinatown  (01/02)
by Gehirn Karies (Cerk Jerk@aol.com)
and Leslie GrantSmith (LoosCanN@aol.com)
Tuesday, July 30th -- 10:30 pm
After COWS:  Udder Revenge

Leslie walked up slowly, shaking her head, her long, dark blond hair
swinging over her shoulders.  "I thought you were going to get the
taillights fixed before coming up, Brutal One."

"I was.  And I thought you were gonna dye your hair red and hope for
some clarity.  What was it you told me about the word was once?  `It's
non-existent, it's something, something, something.'"

"This is serious, you'll get pulled over."

"Are you trying to turn me on?"  Leslie rolled her eyes.  Karies
nodded at the boy coming up to the car in a mask and cape.  "Who's the
kid?"

"Erik.  He's ... ah, up to something," Julie piped up, grinning.

"Mmmmh.  He'd probably clean up well, kinda wiry ... can I keep him?"

"No!" Leslie shouted in her LaCroixian Mommy mode, punching Karies
hard in the arm.

"Ouch.  Where's Tammy and Shirl?  Oh, here they come.  Erik, ge-"
Karies started

"He wants to be called the Phantom," Jules whispered.

"FANDOM?  Shheeesh.  Fandom, get all the way in the back, will ya?"

"Sure."  The caped crusader hopped over the seat, plopping onto a box
in the back of the 1984 Plymouth Voyager.  Jules shook her head.

Karies got into the car, lit a clove cigarette as she waited for the
other women to get themselves sorted out.  Leslie ended up in the
front seat, inhaling the cig smoke greedily as she buckled up. Karies
checked to make sure the three in the back had untangled their belts
and were secure, and started the car.  Shoving the tape of "Tank
Girl's" soundtrack into the tape player, she pulled out onto the
street.

She glanced over at Leslie, who was staring with a glazed look at the
speaker in her door.  Huh, still not over the honey incident with
LaCroix.  The poor woman had been alternatively going pasty white and
bright red since then.  She thumped her lightly on the shoulder with
her clenched fist.

"Get a grip, Dude," she urged her friend.  Leslie turned to her, eyes
dazed behind her glasses, then grinned.

"Major spazola, that's me," she admitted.  Her grin muted itself to
that little half smile that characteristically bent her lips when
contemplating the unspeakable.  Karies smirked.  The woman's brain was
back in working order.

"D'you think he still has those leather pants he wore when he first
got to Toronto?" Leslie murmured.

Then again, maybe the brain was still in shock.  Karies glanced over
at her, inhaling a long, calming drag on her cig.  "Leslie," she
reminded her gently, "those were incinerated, remember?"  Leslie
frowned, then nodded.

"Oh, yeah.  It's just ... I brought my camera.  I was hoping ... you
know, that calendar idea."

Karies shook her head.  Leslie worked hard to overcome her basic
blondness, but there were times....

A portable phone rang.  All six Cousins scrounged for their phones.

"Yeah?" Karies was the last to open her phone, it rang again just as
she flipped it open.  "Mmmh, it's okay, really, I don't mind."  She
tossed a disgusted look at Leslie, whispering, "Your phone's off." She
spoke again into the receiver.  "Right, yeah, I know what you mean,
AG. Oh, no, we were just discussing her idea for a full color calendar
of Nick and -- OW!" she shrieked as Leslie simultaneously tore the
phone away from her and smacked the back of her head, knocking her
baseball cap over her eyes.  Karies wove all over the road, oblivious
to other traffic, as usual, and the three women in the back seat
looked at each other warily.  The Phantom swayed gracefully on his
box.

Leslie reassured her husband he was in total control of his life and
cooed at her children.  She passed the phone back to Tammy who quickly
told the girls a story in her best Librarian lilt.  "Legend has it
that when the world was young and unfinished the Great Spirit Father
made the mistake of leaving his paints where his children could get
them...."

"Blackwing!" all the Cousins moaned in unison.  Tammy gave them all
the deadly silencing Librarian Look and calmly continued her tale.

"Where are we going?" Leslie asked.  "This isn't the route I mapped
out."

"I have a new theory," Karies chortled.

"Now, why does that unnerve me?" Leslie asked.  Karies smirked.  "I
know I'm going to hate myself for this ... what is your theory?"

"Okay, the Dude lost his book on the way out of town, eh?"

"Yeah," the other Cousins all agreed.

"So, he packs a bag, puts the book in his back pocket, and he's almost
ready to fly."

"Almost?" Shirl asked.

"Yeah, he would need to eat, his hunger gnawing at him after being
stirred up by his first good meal in years.  No way would he risk the
Raven and another confrontation, so what're his options?"

"A butcher?"  Julie scrunched up her face.

"Julie! He just had Nat ala mode, the toad.  Animal blood would not
do," Leslie chided.

"The morgue!" Erik offered.

"Too risky," Tammy denounced.

"But he wouldn't *murder*!" Shirl wailed.

"Right!" Erik agreed.

"Right, he wouldn't, he couldn't justify it," Julie added.

"Ah ... I'm driving a pack of Knighties around, am I?"  They all
silenced.  Leslie grimaced.   "Okay, lets use an example."

"Oh, my Dark Goddess," Leslie whined, "I hate it when you do that, the
ants, the--"

"Oooh, incentive...."  Karies interrupted, as was her habit.  "Now,
you're shi-- ah, drunk on despair, despondent, a little hung over,
what do you want to eat?"

"Nothing," said Shirl, with a delicate lift of her lip.

"Chinese!" said the rest of the Cousins.

"Right!  Nick would head for Chinatown."

"You've lost it," Leslie said, shaking her head.

"Lost what?" Karies asked, a serious set to her expression.

"This theory wouldn't have anything to do with why you downed eight
Advil and a TAB half an hour ago, would it?" Leslie jibed.

"Everything."

**************************
Continued in part two  (02/02)


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


Down Into Chinatown  (02/02)
by Gehirn Karies (Cerk Jerk@aol.com)
and Leslie GrantSmith (LoosCanN@aol.com)
Tuesday, July 30th -- 10:30 pm
After COWS:  Udder Revenge

"So, we're heading to Chinatown.  Well, you're going the wrong way,"
Leslie mentioned, looking at the hookers on the corner admiringly.
"Oooh Baby," she hooted as a hustler moved towards the car.

"We're not shopping, Leslie, we've got work to do."

"Oh, you're so conscientious."

"Shut up."

The three Cousins in the back seat exchanged worried glances.

"We'll break into pairs, search block by block, mostly the alleys and
dark stairwells."

"But ... but Nick would not kill." Julie spoke up.

"No, he wouldn't," Karies sighed.  "But he would hunt by instinct,
only stopping himself as the horror in his victim's eyes tore into his
sold out soul."

"Dude, pull over!" Leslie shouted.  Karies quickly angled for the
nearest parking spot, as her passengers gripped their seats as they
were whipped around.

"What?  What is it?" Julie asked, as Karies, swearing, busily brushed
cigarette ash off the front of her CERK shirt.

"Look, it's the tattoo parlor where that gal got murdered, you know,
from when those transplant people were stealing body parts."

The assorted shaken Cousins glared at the woman, who, oblivious, had
her nose pressed against the car window, gawking at the shabby little
tattoo parlor.

"Leslie," Karies snarled, "we're not sight-seeing.  We're book-
hunting."

"Cool," she replied popping open her door and stepping out, "let's go
hunt.  But let's eat first.  You may be sailing on Advil and TAB, but
I'm hungry and a hungry Leslie is a mean Leslie."

The other Cousins looked at each other and shrugged.  They wanted to
search Chinatown, and they were in Chinatown.  It didn't really matter
where they started.  They all piled out of the car.

The Phantom pulled his cape around him with a flick of his wrist and
started down an alleyway.  Karies, irritated, called after him, "What
are you doing, Fandom?"

"Checking things out, Gehirn.  I'll find my own way back."

"Holy hallucination, Batman!" she sighed under her breath as the boy
disappeared down the alley in a blur of movement. "Okay, you three
stick together, we'll meet back in three hours, yeah?"

"Yeah," Julie, Shirl and Tammy agreed, looking relieved they were
splitting off.  Karies' thought patterns seemed a bit more ... unusual
than usual and Leslie's eye had taken on a particularly spiteful
glint.

Karies eased the hypoglycemic LaCroixian Mommy up to a noodle shop,
unwilling to see her at her worst.  Scooping up noodles, veggies and
chicken out of paper bowls, Leslie with deft chopsticks, Karies,
refusing assimilation, with a spoon, they wandered into a fascinating
assortment of dark alleys and doorways.  They only had to use their
well-practiced basilisk glares twice and their knives never left their
secure nests.  They collected a few possibilities, one with the cover
torn off, but it could have been brown at one point.  After about two
and a half hours, they wound up back where they started.

Leaning against the side of her car, Karies peered into the window of
the tattoo parlor and spotted the artist moving around inside. "Look,
it's The Old Tattoo guy."

"Oh yeah, The Old Guy.  I'm a good cop, and a bit of an expert on the
subject," Leslie hooted in her best Canadian accent.

"He does nice work.  Look, a fallen Raven!  At long last."

"And a black rose." Leslie smiled from ear to ear.  "But now?"

"I think better when I'm in pain."

"Me too."

"We need to plan against the Vachonettes, and the Nat and Nick
Pickers."

The two substantial Cousins swung the door open, both trying to get in
at once, lodging themselves in the door 'til they split apart, Leslie
in -- Karies out. The old tattoo guy looked worried.  He looked even
more worried when three other women wandered in, complaining of
wasting three hours in fruitless search, to watch. Tattooing was not
usually a spectator sport.  But if his client was unconcerned as to
her modesty, who was he to object?

Seeing the beat up Voyager with the CERK and various other
curmudgeonly bumper stickers, two more Cousins, Starr and Becky,
pulled over and parked in front of it.  They spotted their assorted
clan members and squeezed into the Tattoo parlor.  "Hey guys!"  was
repeated by the seven Cousins.  The Old Tattoo Guy pursed his lips and
applied himself conscientiously to his work.

"Ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch."

"You're such a wuss, Karies," sniped Leslie, sitting only a little
tentatively.

"I hate the feathering needle, I hate the feathering needle, ouch,
distract me, millions of the freshest, ripest, ouch, precious--"

"Ignore her." Leslie said, offhandedly.  "We've just this minute come
up with a new theory."

Karies gritted her teeth as The Old Tattoo Guy increased the
feathering action.  She started singing, "I like Nick, I like Nat, I
just don't like them doing---"

"Don't you dare!" Leslie threatened, whirling around.

Reaching in her pocket Starr brought out a .357 magnum brass encased
bullet, shoved it between Karies' teeth.  "Thwank u," the grateful
Cousin said.

"I thought we were in Chinatown because of a new theory from this
morning," Starr commented.

"Becky!" Karies hissed, holding the bullet like a pointer, "if you
don't stop bouncing I'm gonna spew.  And that theory didn't quite pan
out."

"That *theory* was whacked," Leslie corrected.  "This one is mine. It
is logical, based on the best Pagan philosophy of lost souls." She
explained her devious plot.

"I'm finished with you," the Old Tattoo Guy said, relief showing in
his eyes.

Starr jumped up on the table, taking Karies' place as she oozed limply
off, sighing deeply and letting her sleeve slide over her huge gauze
bandage.  The new customer eagerly described to the befuddled man the
rose she wanted placed on her left ankle.

"Okay, we'll grab some coffees and track down some equipment for Julie
and our latest diabolical scheme.  We'll meet in the morning. Be
ready, got it?" Karies commanded.

"Who made you the boss of us?" Leslie griped.

"Yeah!" Becky bounced.

"Hmmph."  Shirl attempted a loom, crossing her arms.

"I did," Karies said, full of mirth.  "Cool, huh?"  And she loped out
the door.

***********************
To be continued.....


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


One Wetmore is not enough
Time:   Tuesday, July 30th at about 9pm (after sunset)
Place:  The hospital where Diane E. is... :)
Author: Lana G. Soward with excerpts cribbed from Dawn Steel

Starts before "Peekaboo I see you" by Dawn Steel, but runs
concurrently along with it.  (From another POV)

One Wetmore Is Not Enough

Nigel Wetmore leaned back in his chair and contemplated the file on
his desk.  He wasn't so much worried about his patient than he was her
friends. They were definitely a strange bunch.  If he didn't know
otherwise, from the nurses, he'd have sworn that they never left the
hospital.  There was always one of them in the room.  Plus, they'd
hired around the clock armed guards.

He'd complained about it to the hospital administrator and the HA and
Ms. Soward had gone off to have a 'little chat'.   Unfortunately, when
they'd come back, Ms. Soward handed the HA a card and said, "Just call
him.  I'll make sure that won't be any trouble with the transfer."

The HA told him then not to worry about it. It was a private room with
an attached waiting area, so they wouldn't be disturbing anyone.

Then there was the mezuzah that one of them ... Sarah.. had insisted
needed to be put on his patient.  He wouldn't open the chamber to
allow her to put it on, despite the fact that she protested that Diane
needed the reassurance that it was there.  Finally, they'd resorted to
taping it to the top in the rationalization that when Diane regained
her senses, it'd be the first thing she saw.

They were definitely a strange bunch.

So Nigel leaned forward and did the same thing he did every time he
met a "strange" bunch.

He called his brother.

"Yo.  Adrian."

***

When Adrian arrived at the hospital, Nigel started to fill him in on
the strange quartet that had become part of his rounds but was stopped
by the audible rumblings of Adrian's stomach.  So he suggested they go
downstairs to the cafeteria and grab a bite to eat.

"I can't imagine who'd own a dog like that.  They must be a strange
case." Adrian grabbed one of the cafeteria trays and plunked it down
on the metal guides.

"Indeed. Imagine a dog savaging someone like that." Nigel murmured.
"Her friends have been at the hospital around the clock ever since the
incident occurred. I overheard them talking one night, and apparently
they believe a vampire attacked her. What do you think of that?"

"I don't want to think about it. You know how I feel about the subject
of vampires."

"Then why are you so fascinated with this case?" Nigel's voice dropped
even lowered.  "Come on.  I can see it in your eyes."

"It reminds me of a particular client I had.  She believed in
vampires, too. It was actually part of a role-playing game, but she
got so caught up in it that she actually thought that there were real
vampires in Toronto."  He selected a Waldorf Salad from the cooler.
"Then we had to treat all her friends that the police brought over, I
would have been happy to never ..."

The unexpected crash, cut Adrian off.  They turned and watched as a
tall stack of washed trays continued to fall the floor, not helped by
young woman who continued to knock them over as she struggled to
maintain her balance.

Adrian realized that the young woman, was in fact Dawn Steel, his
former patient.  He smiled and his face lit up.  Now he could
introduce his brother to his former patient.

"Hey! There she is...." he started and watched as Dawn fled from scene
faster than an Olympic sprinter.  "Well, there she was."

"Who?" asked Nigel, as he watched the Merc sprint out the door.

"Dawn.  My former patient.  I didn't know she was back in town."
Adrian trailed off and stared at the swinging doors thoughtfully.

"Oh well," shrugged Nigel.  "Come on.  Let's eat and then I'll show
you my *patients*"


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


Comatosetime Dreams
Time:   Tuesday, July 30th at about 10pm (after sunset)
Place:  The hospital where Diane E. is... :)
Author: Lana G. Soward

NOTE:  This runs concurrently with "Peek-a-boo! I See You!" by Dawn
Steel


"..."*SUE*?!?" Maureen snarled in bewilderment."

"Well, yes and no." As Maureen watched in an astonishment that was
quickly sliding into fury, Sue tore off her blond wig and her glasses,
drew herself up to her full height, and peeled off the elaborate
Mission Impossible-style latex mask to reveal..."

"Dianne the Merc."...."

***

Lana took off her glasses and rubbed her eyes.   She was taking her
turn guarding Diane for the moment.  The regular bodyguard was fine
against the more mundane human menace, but three unaffiliates decided
to take turns during the key hours (namely at night), just for a
little added protection. Since she'd grown bored, Lana had taken to
booting her computer up and reading the War posts to Diane through the
little intercom built into the hyberbaric chamber.  She didn't know if
Diane could even hear her, but it relieved the monotony anyway.

Glancing up she saw that the new guard had arrived.  She got up and
met the bodyguard to the waiting room.  This one looked like he could
heft the hyberbaric chamber with one hand.

After a few quick words, they re-entered the room and Lana sat back
down and picked up her computer.

A taking a swig of Diet Coke, she resumed her reading.

"...Just then the other Mercs - Dawn in the lead, with ..."

Meanwhile, in the hyberbaric chamber Diane was dreaming of something
slightly different.

***

<Thump>

Suddenly, Will Steeves landed right at her feet.

"Hello." she said pleasantly, not surprised that a man would throw
himself at her feet.

"Cut!  Okay, let's do it again."

She saw Nick help Will up from the floor.  Diane stared closer.  Nick
was an bad hair day.  Extremely bad.

***

"I am."

"No I am."

"I told you, I am"

"All you just have to do is look in the mirror."

"I am.  Where are you looking?"

Diane turned and watched as Maureen the Happily Challenged (now the
Terminally Blonde) and LaCroix stood in front of a mirror and argued
over who was blonder.  She thought that LaCroix had the edge, but that
probably was because he must have used boot black on his eyebrows.
They looked like fuzzy caterpillars that had crawled there and died.
She closed one eye and cocked her head.

If you cut those out, she thought.  Maureen really is blonder.

***

"I don't think this is going to work," protested Vachon.  "You've
been at it for 10 hours."

Diane watched as Torrey patted him reassuringly on the head and then
frowned as her hand stuck to the glue that was glommed on.

"Don't worry," she said soothingly, as she tried to discreetly pull
her hand loose.  "We'll get it glued back on.  You won't even know
it's been gone."

Cries of disappointment and outrage rang through the church, as Torrey
managed to free her hand AND most of the hair that the Vaqueras had
glued back on.

"Apache! We need more glue."

***

"Nightcrawler lives forever!"

"Yeah!!!"

Diane pushed her way through the crowds to the front.  There she saw
Erica and Bianca, the late great signal stealers hog-tied to a spit,
where they were being slowly roasted over a pile of burning vinyl.
All the while they were protesting that they didn't mean any harm.
They were crying a lot too, but that could have been because of the
burning vinyl.

The crowd, however, wasn't buying their remorse.

"...Nightcrawler is a sick pervert?  Well pervert this..."

"... and his audience is even sicker?  You just wait.  You'll see how
sick we can get...."

"...Hopefully his audience will go with him?  We're not going anywhere
until we're finished with you..."

As a couple of the more irate members of the Nightcrawler Fan Club
stalked toward the roast duo with large carving knives, Diane turned
at pushed her way back out of the crowd. And into ...

***

... the Raven.  It was closed but still stylishly lit.  However, it
was raining inside.   Raining a most un-Ravenette assortment of
clothes.

Diane looked closer.  There had to have been about 20 to  30 pieces of
luggage there.  Just about the right number for Janette, although,
Diane didn't think that Janette ever owned, let alone wore, a set of
surgical scrubs.

Suddenly, Diane realized that the place was alive with Ravenettes, who
were burrowing into the suitcases, tossing clothes from them with
abandon.

Finally, Tami emerged from a suitcase.  "I didn't find anything.
Anyone else?"

A chorus of 'no's followed.

Janette slid off the bar where she'd been gracefully lounging.

"Then it's decided,"  she said.  "This is definitely not the luggage
of a Raven(ette).  Toss it out."

***

"Do it again."

"You go girl."

Diane hunched over Amy's shoulder and watched the video game that she
was frantically playing.  She squinted and then blinked as she
realized that Natalie was performing what could only be described (on-
list) as a "John Wayne Bobbitt" on Nick.  Each time the Natpack roared
in laughter.

"Again.  Do it again."

***

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

Lana stopped reading and looked up, as Nigel and Adrian came into the
room.


***

Quotes come from :
Strikeforce Maureen Strikes! (3/3) Mission Accomplished, Ms. Mercenaire
     by Christina Kamnikar with the Mercenary Guild and Maureen the Mad

"(Don't Worry,) Be Happy" 5/5 -- "I Heard Somebody Moo"
   by Dianne la Mercenaire

Dream sequences based on:
    Ed.  - Figure it out


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


Peek-a-boo! I See You!
Time:   Tuesday, July 30th at about 10pm (after sunset)
Place:  The hospital where Diane E. is... :)
Author: Dawn Steele (h36a@unb.ca)

Dawn wandered the halls of the hospital. She kept pulling a small
piece of paper with information on it out of her back pocket and then
sticking it back in.

Pulling it out yet again, she read what was written. "Lana Soward
hired me to find out who attacked Diane." For some reason she kept
forgetting who her employer was -- not a good situation for a Merc
expecting to be paid.

Although she probably would have done the job for free seeing how
Diane E. was involved, but it was never good to advertise things like
that.

"Hmm..." Dawn kept an eye out for security and travelling nurses. Ever
since the last war, she had found herself acting differently while in
hospitals. "But first we have to ask the question, <is> it a secret?"

"Or is it just a war-time excuse to go around and make trouble?"

She mentally slapped herself for thinking out loud on paper. The laws
of Physics, grammar and any sense of mental coherency could <always>
be thrown out in the war. Just take a look at the KISS gift that Jamie
sent. Did anyone on the list have the faintest concept as to how much
that would have <cost> in real life? Let alone all the logistics of
being able to find that many KISS impersonators willing to play at 5am
to hostile crowds.

"I better get on with writing this post and try better at pretending
to follow an actual plotline instead of just babbling on."

Following her inner instincts (and the directions from the downstairs
receptionist), Dawn located Diane E.'s room.

She didn't look too good.

Actually, what she looked like was a wrapped body in a metal tube with
little plastic windows -- sort of like a ship in a bottle except with
electrical wiring instead of steel wires. There were blue smudges
underneath her eyes as if she'd been awake for days instead of being
unconscious... and a big bandage around her neck.. Definitely a
vampire attack!

Going around the corner, she looked through the window to the waiting
room. Lana Soward was there! Her employer!

Dawn knocked on the window and waved but Lana didn't hear her. Lana
was having an intense discussion with a large man who looked to have
big enough biceps to crush the metal tube Diane was in. A bodyguard
perhaps?

She decided not to bother them. After writing a quick note ("Saw you
but decided not to bother you. I'm on the case. I'll contact you if I
find anything out. -- D) she slipped it underneath the door and left.


                        *     *     *

Dawn headed downstairs towards the cafeteria. Not because she actually
expected to find anything palatable to eat, but because she had this
weird fascination with cafeterias and liked to check them out.

She was wavering on the subject of actually buying one of the waxed
apples in a basket when...

The Merc stepped behind the counter hurridly, shoving aside one of the
cafeteria workers as she did so. Crouched behind the soup section, and
the pop machines she had a clear view of most of the cafeteria.

Duncan MacLeod was talking to LaCroix!

After her pulse slowed down, Dawn started thinking a bit more
rationately. That couldn't be Duncan MacLeod since this was the
Forever Knight universe, and crossovers weren't permitted on the
fkfic-l wars. Therefore it had to be ... Adrian Wetmore, her old
psychiatrist. (Her pulse sped up again slightly.)

But what was he doing talking to LaCroix, and why on Earth was LaCroix
dressed in <surgical> greens? Could Nick have been hit in the head
with another bullet?

(Dawn shoved that thought right out of her mind. She hadn't done her
customary 'attack Nick' post yet and the thought was too tempting.)

With nothing except the top part of her head in view, Dawn
apprehensively watched them approach.

"... strange case."  Adrian Wetmore grabbed one of the cafeteria trays
and plunked it down on the metal guides.

"Indeed. Imagine a dog savaging someone like that." LaCroix murmured.
"Her friends have been at the hospital around the clock ever since the
incident occured. I overheard them talking one night, and apparently
they believe a vampire attacked her. What do you think of that?"

"I don't want to think about it. You know how I feel about the subject
of vampires."

LaCroix's smooth voice continued on. "Then why are you so fascinated
with this case?"

"It reminds me of a particular client I had ... "

They passed out of range. Dawn crab-walked to the other side of the
cafeteria barrier, trying to ignore the stares of the workers. She had
to get out of the hospital right away!

Just outside the barrier, Dawn stood up with the intention of
nonchalantly leaving the cafeteria in the hopes of not being spotted.
Unfortunately, her genetically inherited low blood pressure failed her
again.

All the blood seemed to rush to her feet, and her vision (what wasn't
obscured by little sparkly things) was reduced to a narrow tunnel.
Throwing her arms out frantically she managed to catch the edge of the
counter... and knock over all the trays at the same time.

Dawn looked over to where Dr. Wetmore and LaCroix were standing
further down the line. Adrian Wetmore had seen her... recognition
dawned (heh heh heh -- I love puns) on him and she saw his face light
up.

"Hey! There she is...."

Mere moments later, she was out of the hospital and going straight to
Merc headquarters.

She didn't know if LaCroix had recognized her, and for the moment she
didn't <want> to know. Thoughts of past-war transgressions floated
through her (currently frazzled) mind and she cringed.

LaCroix had been checking up on Diane's case... covering up his
tracks! How was she going to tell Lana that it had been LaCroix who
had attacked Diane!

---------
:)


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


Hampering Hampers
by: Abby Albrecht

time... oh 11pm ish on the 30th... unless it fits better later ;)

The streets shined like silver from the night time rain, which was
amazing since it hadn't rained in two weeks. Cynthia, the Ravenette
with a confusing e-mail account, smiled down at her wavery reflection.
*This is going to be a good night,* she thought to herself as she
walked down the street with her friend Jane, also a Ravenette with
style.

"I like the Raven," Jane started. "But it's really nice to get out for
a while..."

"Agreed," Cynthia nodded. "I should probably be asleep right now, but
the air feels good!"

They continued on in silence for a while. The brisk Toronto air
cleaning out their dusty lungs. "Maybe we could air out the Raven when
we get back? Get out all of the paint fumes?" Jane suggested.

Before Cynthia could respond, a body came out of the shadows next to
them. "Hi there," Abby said suddenly.

"#$@!, don't do that!" Jane shouted, nearly jumping out of her skin.
After a couple deep breaths she continued, "Abby? What are you doing
here?"

Abby stepped before them and made a sweeping bow, her trench coat
draped down behind. "The two of you have been formally invited to a
private party."

"A party," Cynthia repeated incredulously.

"A party," Abby responded. "A friend of yours wanted to thank you for
something you did for them at a convention. You made one night a
living memory for my client, and that person wants to repay you in a
like fashion." Abby waited until it all soaked in. "Shall we go?"

Before they could say anything, Abby grabbed them each by an arm and
lead them to a nearby alley. There was only one unblocked door, and
that's the one they went through.

The inside of the building was pitch dark, except for a spotlight
shining on a large salad bar. "Help yourself," the beautiful Merc
said. "Eat now, or forever hold your peace."

The two Ravenettes looked at each other. Abby could nearly hear their
confused thoughts buzz back and forth to each other.

Minutes later they had plates piled high with food neither were
allergic to [ed note - ;)] and they munched on their dinners while
they waited for Abby. She apparently was busy getting her caffine fix
from the soda dispenser.

"Oh," Abby looked up and burped lightly. "You're ready then?"

Cynthia and Jane nodded in unison. "Um, what kind of party is this if
we're the only ones here?" Cynthia asked, not trusting Abby too much.

"My employer wanted you to relive the night she enjoyed so much," Abby
said calmly. "Anyway, isn't the silence nice after the bustle of the
Raven?"

"Well, yeah," Cynthia agreed.

Abby nodded and took each woman by an arm. She led them into the
darkness. The spotlight followed their progress deeper into the room.
Eventually they got to two strange looking chairs.

"What's it made from?" Jane asked.

Cynthia grinned, "hampers." She looked at Abby. "Your doing?"

"Yup!" Abby responded cheerfully. "Now sit down."

When they sat down the spotlight turned off and a projection screen
lit up before them. The Forever Knight music came on. "We get to watch
Forever Knight?" Jane asked Abby.

The only response she recieved was a closing door. Abby had left them
to enjoy alone, Jane guessed.

The credits ended and the show came on. Natalie was celebrating her
birthday.

"The show doesn't start this--" Jane started.

"It's the NatPack video. Two hours of only Natalie," Cynthia rightly
concluded.

"Two hours?" Jane sighed. "No Janette?"

"Only when she talks to Nat," Cynthia echoed the sigh. "Shall we
leave?" She rose, but then noticed her feet were clamped to the floor.
It would take a while to get loose from these...

-------------
had to do it.


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


Getting "Board"
by Cousin Erik LeBeau
Time: Tuesday 30th, 11:00pm
(Directly after "Down into Chinatown Pt. 2")
Place: The sewers

Erik muttered to himself as he wound through the underground maze.
"Kid? Boy?  FANDOM?!  Note to self: steer clear of Cousin Karies.
She's wierd." Erik admitted he *was* somewhat of a junior member of
the affiliation, being a scant seventeen years old, but at least most
of the others looked past that.  "Cherri never called me 'kid'," he
told a passing sewer rat.  The rat looked at him indifferently and
continued on its way.

Another left and a quick right later, Erik poked his head up through
the grate above him.  With a little bit of effort, he managed to hoist
himself up into the deserted warehouse.  There was no way of knowing,
unfortunately, where to look for what he came for, or even if it was
there in the first place.  He had always thought that the Canadian
Military was a contradiction in terms, but here he was in a military
surplus warehouse in the middle of a Toronto Air Force Base.

But Fortune smiled on the masked one (and why not?  I'm the one
writing it!), and after only a few minutes of searching, he found
several boxes marked "Chaff."  Now, the next step was to determine if
any of the boxes happened to have their timers still attached.  None
did.  Erik stood up, forgetting that he had wandered under a shelf,
and cracked his head rather painfully on the metal shelf.  Biting back
a curse, he eased his way out from under the offending metal and stood
up again.

And found himself staring at a collection of timers.  All sizes, all
shapes. He picked out about a dozen of the smallest ones he could find
and shoved them into the duffel bag he'd been hiding under his cape.
He'd need them later.  He started walking back toward the grate he'd
come up through, but happened to see something interesting peeking out
from an open box in the corner, and decided that there was something
else that needed to be done.  He dragged the box to the grate as well.

Hoisting himself down first, then pulling the box down to him, Erik
dashed through the sewers once again, giggling maniacally.

11:30 pm

Up from the sewers (One good thing... it *will* help me develop more
upper body strength), Erik found himself standing at the base of
something *big*. Really, Really Big.  "They don't look this big from
the interstate," he said to himself, completely ignoring the obvious
reasons for that.  He shrugged and started to climb, his duffel bag
slung over his shoulder.

At the top of the ladder was the biggest Cow he had ever seen.  CERK's
former mascot smiled its bovine smile for all the interstate to see.
Erik just kept whispering "Don't look down" to himself.  It wasn't
that he was afraid of heights.  He wasn't even really afraid of
falling.  It was just that sudden stop at the bottom that worried him.
But, he had a job to do, and darn if he wasn't going to do it.

He unzipped the duffel bag and grabbed several of the small black
boxes, having traded places with the timers along the way.  He started
by affixing them along the bottom of the billboard, spacing them
several feet apart. Erik noted, thankfully, that there was indeed a
ladder on a rolling track by which billboard workers could access the
tops of billboards.  He started up the ladder, stopping every few feet
to attach another row of boxes.

Twenty minutes later, Erik was safely on the ground again.  The grid
of boxes on the billboard were virtually invisible from this far away.
That is, they were until Erik pulled a small remote device from his
pocket and flipped a red switch.  Immediately, a little red light
began to blink on all the boxes, making the billboard look a bit like
a Christmas tree.  The young Cousin grinned at that thought and began
to hum "Chestnuts Roasting on an Open Fire" as he pressed the green
button on his remote.

The small incendiary devices across the billboard flared into life,
rendering the distinctly *un*flattering image of his fellow Cousin to
nothing more than ash and smoke.  Satisfied, Erik replaced the timers
in his duffel bag and dropped down into the sewers, whistling "Taps"
as he did so.

"The Cow is dead.  Long live the Cherri," he mused.


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


The All Nat Channel (1/1)
by Jane Credland and Cynthia Hoffman
Date: July 30, 1996 (sometime after 11 pm)
Place: a room in an unidentified hotel somewhere in downtown Toronto


Cynthia and Jane struggled briefly with the manacles clamping their
feet, but it rapidly became obvious that they weren't going to get
free any time soon.  At least they had their hands free, though what
they were going to be able to do with them was debatable.

"What's that?"  Jane pointed at a black box with an LED readout
connected by wires to the manacles and the VCR.

"A timer?"  Cynthia squinted to get a better look.  "Wanna bet that
Abby set this up so we can't get free until the tape is finished?"

"Great.  We're stuck here for the next two hours."

"It could be worse."

"How?"  Jane looked at her partner in disbelief.

"Well, this tape may be all Natalie, but at least it's Forever Knight.
Can you imagine being trapped in a room and forced to watch an inane
sitcom over and over again?  Ugh!"  Cynthia settled into a slightly
more comfortable position.  "Besides, last time we were subjected to
something like this it was that bald guy from the X-Files ... Skinny,
Skimmer?  Made me queasy watching those scene changes when I didn't
know the episodes they were coming from."

Jane twitched her legs and sighed.  Two hours of being forced to sit
in a "normal" position -- her legs would never be the same again.  To
distract herself from the threatening discomfort, she studied the
scene on the television.  "You know, I never understood why Nat would
work on her birthday.  Even if I had no place to go and no-one to go
with, I'd rather stay home, watch a video and eat ice cream or popcorn
than work all night. Just because you don't have a significant other
doesn't mean you don't have a life."

"Try telling TPTB that.  In the FK world, you have no life if you're
female without an S/O.  A male S/O at that"  Cynthia crossed her arms
and glared at the screen.  "They did a reasonably good job with
Natalie in first season, but by the third season she was getting on my
nerves.  I ask you: what is so difficult about writing a strong, self-
confident working woman?"

"Eyew! I hate it when she looks at him like that.  I mean as far as
she knows he's a corpse for God's.  Yuck." Jane continued to mutter
about men writing women and having no idea what to do with them while
the scene shifted to garden hoses doing miraculously stupid things so
the damsel in distress could be rescued by the hero.

"Did I ever tell you that a friend of mine hated this episode so much
he wouldn't be in my apartment when it was airing?" asked Cynthia.
"Of course, he did happen to walk in at about the time Natalie was
screaming and Nick was crashing through the skylight of the warehouse
that was supposed to be a nursery wearing a trench coat he somehow
lost by the time he hit the ground. Good old Paul.  Too bad there
wasn't anything else about him to like."

"Yeah.  Good old Paul."  Jane snorted.  "Hey, there's Janette."

"Ooh.  I wonder if this is the scene where we get the old Natpack
adage about having no sense of self-preservation?  I mean if Janette
told me it was my neck, I'd light on out of there."

"This from the woman who took on Janette single-handedly the other
night." Jane kneaded the muscles at the top of her left leg, miserably
wishing she could move into a half-lotus or some other position that
would stop her leg from spasming -- not possible when she was trapped
like this.  "Maybe you have more in common with the Natpack than you'd
care to admit?"

Cynthia thought of and discarded several cutting retorts, but was
distracted by the television screen.  "Poodles!  The best line in the
episode and the only reason to watch it a second time, right?"

"I suppose."  Jane stared dubiously at the flashing picture.
"Watching this one once was pretty much enough for me.  I just didn't
buy Nick in a sun worshipping cult.  I mean he's a vampire for god's
sake."

"Go Nat.  See, sometimes she can take care of herself.  I wonder why
they didn't write her like that more often?  She solves the crime, and
she rescues herself and then does the right thing to boot." Cynthia
was suddenly reminded of a promise she made in May to finally show
Jane the one second season episode she'd never seen. "Did you ever see
this one?"

"Yep.  The day of the earthquake I didn't notice ... while you were at
work."  Closing her eyes momentarily, Jane groaned as the scene
shifted again.  "Not this one.  I hate this episode."

"Do we have to watch it?  Did you know I've never watched it a second
time?"

"Yes.  You've told me that..." Jane added silently //again and again
and again.//

"Now that scene, look at the two of them.  I swear to God she has more
going on with Lacroix in that scene than she ever did in three years
of dealing with Nick."

"Yes, dear."

"Yep.  She was whammied.  People can make all the excuses they want
about drugs and getting her drunk, but it's plain and simple.  She's
not a resister.  Nick just didn't do it right the first time."

"Yes dear."

Cynthia rolled her head, sighing with satisfaction as her neck cracked
and popped.  "I hate this episode.  Makes mincemeat out of every
character on the show ... except Janette, of course."

They sat silently for a few moments, contemplating the sea of Natalie
images.

"You've got to admit that she does have her moments.  Especially when
she was Nick's best friend and ally, before TPTB decided to turn her
into Nick's love interest."  Jane stretched out as far as possible,
trying to ease the cramps in her legs.  Whoever designed these chairs
knew exactly how to torture her.

"Spoke too soon.  Here comes third season.  Oh gods, they left in all
of the first nine episodes."  Cynthia curled her lip in disgust.
"Even this one. I still think the lurkers had the best idea of what
was written in the damned card.  She came so close.  She had a
backbone ... for almost a whole hour. Then it was like ... jelly-
fish."

"Well, that show does have one redeeming moment.  Too bad Natalie
wasn't in it."  Jane smiled at the memory of the refrigerator scene.
"Although they did use her old apartment set."

"Who wrote this drivel anyway?  Nah.  Can't be the same guys who wrote
Curiouser and Curiouser, can it?"

Jane didn't answer.  She was too busy trying to figure out a way to
contort her body into a position that would allow her to be
comfortable.  How could anyone sit this way hour after hour?
Suddenly, there was a loud crash.  Her chair slid out from underneath
her, leaving her in a heap on the floor, legs twisted beneath her,
feet still strapped to the floor.  With a beatific smile, she leaned
her back against the chair.

"Are you happy now?  Do you think you can sit still for more than
thirty seconds?"  Privately amused at the way her partner always
pretzelled herself when sitting, Cynthia returned her attention to the
tape.  "Stupid move, Natalie."

"No kidding.  Don't tell him he's a vampire and he'll magically become
mortal.  I thought she didn't believe in anything but scientific
cures."

"Ooooh... fried Nick.  How sweet."

"I hope she feels suitably guilty.  She almost killed him."  Jane
shifted her body around, and managed to move over enough to lean her
head on Cynthia's knee.

Cynthia placed her hand on Jane's shoulder.  "Another brilliant
scientific moment.  Vampire blood as a cure-all for mortal ailments.
Didn't she learn anything from seeing the side-effects of the
Baroness' experiment?"

"Guess not.  They really screwed up with this one.  I just don't see
Nat doing something like that.  Not without testing it first."

The pair relaxed and watched the last few minutes of the tape spool
past, breathing a silent prayer in the hopes that whoever had made the
All-Nat Channel had left out the last two episodes of third season.
No such luck.

"NO!  I don't want to go there again.  I just don't," moaned Cynthia. 
She considered covering her eyes, but her morbid sense of "I can't
believe they thought it was somehow going to end differently" took
over and she watched in spite of herself.

"You know.  I don't care how many times they try to claim otherwise,
there's only one climax to mortal/vampire sex -- dinner.  The only
place that doesn't happen is in fanfic or in third season episodes
that we don't discuss ... and even there it's a snack."  Jane jumped
as the VCR clicked loudly and the tape began to rewind as soon as it
reached the end.

"No.  Not again.  I can't do this all night.  Once was enough."  Jane
complained loudly.

"It's okay.  We can survive anything, right?"  Cynthia said
soothingly.

Still, they both stared apprehensively at the numbers on the VCR as
the tape neared the beginning, counting down with the last few
numbers.

10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1 .... 0

With a final click, the VCR ejected the tape and the manacles clamping
their feet simultaneously snapped open.  They were both standing in an
instant. They shook their legs and jumped up and down,  and then
called the front desk to find out how long they had the room.

Check out wasn't until 11:00 a.m. on Wednesday.  Jane called room
service and ordered a litre of diet coke and contact lens solutions
(thank goodness for hotels with all night drugstores on the premises),
while Cynthia checked to make sure the shower wasn't of the exploding
variety.

Once room service arrived, they hung the do not disturb sign out
front, locked the door and turned out the lights.

No one disturbed them until 7:00 the following morning.


***

So, who can identify every episode?


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


A Visit to the Raven
By: Laura Ruggiero (Die-Hard)
Time: During the Night, July 30 (Hey -- it's a blue moon today! )

Laura and two of her new found friends approached the Raven.  They had
tried very hard to dress approapriately.   Laura realized there was no
way they could ever really fit in, but she hoped Janette would
appreciate the attempt.  She was not comfortable wearing these
clothes, a t-shirt and culottes was more her style.  And these awful
high-heels (which to Laura meant anything more than flats) were
getting removed as soon as she got inside. "Are you sure it's safe to
go in there?" she asked.

"Of course, it's all been arranged, as long as we behave, so will
they," said one of the women as they entered the bar, ingoring her
friend's discomfort.

Laura just stood in the entry way, she had been here before, during
war 5, but it felt different now.  This wasn't a party with all the
FKFIC-L warriors, this was a normal night, with the normal customers. 
Her two friends, however, had no doubts about entering and they
quickly struck up conversations with some of the very good-looking men
in the estabishment.

Eventually she found an out of the way table where she could just sit
and watch everyone.  Laura, as she had taken a large dose of
antihistamines to keep her allergy to tobacco smoke in check, had
decided not to drink anything alcoholic, but when her friends joined
her they decided she wasn't having enough fun and ordered her
something.  Laura was quickly convinced to accept the drink, and in
following hours, as she talked with her friends and their male
companions she had several more.

Between the alcohol and the antihistamines Laura was feeling very
sleepy and very silly.  Normally Laura was in very tight control of
herself, even on those  occasions when her friends made valiant
attempts to get her drunk (it never worked--her Italian, Ukrainian,
and Scandinavian hertiage gave her a fairly high tolerance level).
Tonight, however; Laura's normally repressed "chaotic" side came out. 
She was actually flirting with the men in the bar, at one point she
even pulled out her brush and attempted to show one long-haired guy
how much better he would look with neatly styled hair.

When one man asked her to dance she readily agreed.  He was quite
handsome with his deep green eyes and his long dark hair was pulled
back like Duncan's in Highlander.  She did not notice how cold his
skin was, or how slow his heartbeat was.    Between effects of the
alcohol and the antihistamines, her defences were down.  When he
kissed her, the world began to spin,  so she did not even think to
resist as he lead her to a back room.

The kissing was getting more and more intense, she was feeling things
she never had before.  She did not notice when his eyes changed from
green to gold, or when his canines extended. Then he bit her.  The
sudden pain made her remember herself and she tried to fight him off,
but it was far to late.  She felt herself sink to the floor as the
world turned black...

------
Laura woke up, her heart racing.  She was in her own apartment.  It
was dark out. Her "short nap" had apparently lasted several hours.
"That was one incredible dream, I never have dreams that vivid.
Missing the war must be getting to me.  Well, that or the extreme
stress and sleep depervation of trying to finish the thesis.  Though,
it was a thoroughly pleasant dream up until the end...  I have got
finish writing the draft of my stupid thesis soon.  Though even when I
do get a complete draft finished, it'll take me awhile to catch up on
all that's happened before I can take an active part in the war again.
At least Ron is able to lead the Die-hards while I can't.  Oh well, it
would be pointless to try to get back to sleep, might as well get back
to the writing."


==========********************============
How did I come up with this?  It is based (fairly closely) on an
actual dream I had.  I've had some far more, ah...  "intense" dreams
lately, for which I have to thank all of you who write Adult and Jadfe
stories. Poor inexperienced little me never could have come up with
such  stuff before, and never did even in my dreams... :-) (Don't even
ask what my score on the sexual purity test was -- it's much to high
for a 29 year old.)


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


Getting Down to Business

The Raven.  Tuesday Evening.

By Susan M. Garrett


The laptop was open and Susan was staring at the screen, frowning.
Hidden at a back booth of the Raven, she was oblivious to the crowd
and the dancers.  And oblivious to the vampire who slipped into the
booth beside her.

"You've been useless."

"Gah!"  Susan jumped when Janette spoke, would have bounced against
the wall if she'd been a NatPacker but she didn't because she wasn't,
and grabbed the laptop for dear life knowing that the computer she
might save wasn't necessarily her own but would cost a bundle to
repair.  "Oh, God!  You scared ten years off me."

"Ten years?  Pfah."  Janette waved her hand, brushing away the
importance of a concept.  "Ten years is nothing."

"It is when you're mortal.  And I fully intend to stay that way."
Susan glanced back at the laptop.  "Now what was--hey, new clothes!"

Janette delicately placed her fingertips against the black and red
lace that formed the upper part of the black dress, but which left her
shoulders bare. "Catherine and Felicia were right--I needed to do some
proper shopping.  And I think we've done wonders for Chanda."

Susan peered past Janette, to see Chanda fixing three strands of
chains that has gotten tangled to one side of the dance floor.  "Very
Goth," she agreed, but the Nikes have gotta go."

"I believe they're working on it.  Old habits die hard."

"Then you've got a couple that are gonna make Cyrano's death scene
look like a Bicentennial Minute," breathed Susan, turning back to her
laptop.

"I heard that."

When Susan didn't respond, Janette reached out to close the laptop,
but Susan deftly moved it out of the way--she was just above the
survival instincts of the NatPack, but data she'd preserve to her last
drop of blood. "I know," commented Susan, "I should talk.  But I
couldn't fit the laptop <and> my Ravenette dress into my carry-on.
Right now, the laptop has priority."

"Over all this?" asked Janette sharply, waving at the reconstructed
bar. "<You> have been negligent.  First you make the declaration that
you won't be participating in this war--"

"I thought I wasn't going to be--"

"<Then> you have the audacity to warn everyone you might have to
leave, show up and do <nothing>?"  Janette raise her chin haughtily.
"Well?"

Susan wilted somewhat under that commanding stare, then gestured half-
heartedly at the laptop.  "I've been working . . . ."

"On <what>?  What could take precedence over redecorating the club,
finding Miklos, fending off all of these uncalled-for attacks, and . .
. shopping?"

Susan winced at the last, knowing that she was on shaky ground--for a
Ravenette, she wasn't much of a shopper, except in a bookstore.  She
only shopped when Nick and Nat got angry with one another in fiction. 
"Well . .. ."  She looked back at the laptop.  "I've been trying to
find some reason for why we've become the center of attention."

"You mean, these attacks?"

Nodding, Susan swallowed and looked back at the laptop.  She had
Janette's full attention and a vampire's full attention was not
something meant to insure a long and happy mortal life.  Or a mortal
life, period.  "It's like someone didn't want us tearing up the old
stuff in the Raven and redecorating."

"The Cousins and LaCroix," suggested Janette.  "Sour grapes?"

"No--I don't think so.  He abandoned the place.  I think somebody left
something here.  It would have had to have been sometime between the
last war and now.  God knows, LaCroix would have dismantled this place
and gotten rid of all the bugs and booby traps from the last war
before he'd opened it again. Or somebody <thinks> somebody left
something here.  And somebody's looking for it."  She shrugged.  "Or,
being that attack is the highest form of affection, we've the most
beloved affiliation on the planet."

Janette merely shot her an annoyed glance, then looked away
thoughtfully.

"<And> I've been trying to keep up the mail, open the old 'raven.com'
address."

"Really?"  Janette leaned forward to peer at the laptop, suddenly
interesting.  "Anything . . . unique?"

"Other than the fact that Alma's got two years of 'Soap Opera Digest
On-Line' digests hanging out here, no."  Susan tapped two keys and
gestured toward the screen.  "But there's something here I wanted to
ask you about. It's important."

Janette gave her a curious look, then read the screen.  "<My> blood?"
she asked aloud and with a certain amount of outraged indignation.
"My <blood>?"

Unnerved, Susan peered around Janette and read the screen.  "B-l-o-o-
d," she spelled.  "Yep, that's blood, all right."  Then added, as
Janette started to get that haughty look.  "It <is> for a good cause. 
There aren't that many interesting female characters around any more. 
Like you, I mean.  Having somebody pulling a silver to your gold would
give you some time off.  Take a weekend and go to NYC for a show and a
bite, catch up on your lambada lessons . . . ."

Janette nodded thoughtfully.  "Yes.  Yes, I agree.  It isn't much
after all. And it <is> for a good cause, as you say."  Then she fixed
Susan with a no-nonsense gaze.  "You will send an affirmative reply,
but say that there is a price."

"Which is?"

"To be named later."

"Gotcha.  Ain't it always."  Susan turned back to the keyboard and hit
the reply button.  "Told you--the laptop comes in handy."

"I suppose it has some cute referential name," said Janette archly.

Susan would have blinked, but didn't, knowing that there's always some
smart-ass around just waiting to accuse you of being a Vaquera.
"Actually, it doesn't.  I don't name mechanical things.  I can never
remember what I've named them, so I don't bother.  Except for my
Media-west defying luggage wheelie.  It's Bebe Ribozo II."

Janette blinked--not having been around enough during third season to
know what was going on--and asked, "Why?"

"Because my first luggage wheelie was Bebe Ribozo."  Finishing the
message while Janette digested that bit of information and backed away
slowly, Susan cleared her throat.  "Oh, yeah--speaking of naming
mechanical things, did Nick ever tell you whether he'd given his car a
name?"

"A . . . name?" echoed Janette slowly . . . and backed away just a
little bit further.

"Yeah.  Guys always seem to name their cars.  Some women do, too, but
with guys it's a 'thing.'  And God knows Nick's spent more time having
a relationship with that car than he ever did with Nat or you."  She
glanced up quickly, as if sensing the change occurring in Janette's
eyes.  "Last seven hundred and ninety-odd years, excepted, of course."

"Of course."  Janette sat up straight on the seat.  "No, I don't
remember him saying anything."

"No problem.  I was just curious."  Susan nodded back at the keyboard.
"I'll let you know what answer we get.  As for anything else going on,
you'd better ask Cynthia.  I think they're still looking for Miklos.
And ask someone to make sure Catherine and Jasmine are eating, please?
I tried to get over the pile of books they're hiding behind, but it
was worse than the latest Everest assault.  In another couple of days,
I'm going to build a little book fortress around them and pass food
and water in between Martin Chuzzlewit and whatever the heck Jasmine's
working on--I dunno, but I touched one of her books and it gave me
hives."

By this time, Janette has slipped entirely out of the booth.  "You'll
let me know about the blood?"

"Count on it," said Susan, then smiled to herself as Janette slipped
away in search of someone in possession of some shreds of sanity--
probably Cynthia or Tami or Jane.  When push came to shove and Janette
needed someone to take care of things, she'd be happy to step in.  But
with so many competent Raven\ettes on hand, Susan could afford to
attend to the thing that most concerned her about this war.

Hitting her alt escape, she brought up her Excel spreadsheet.  Under
the category 'name,' she checked off an 'x' next to Janette.  She had
no idea exactly who else would know if Nick had named his car--Tracy
and Schanke were dead, although Schanke's presence made itself known
at the Happy Souvlaki Deli.  Maybe a low-level necromancy or seance
was in order?

Hell, she wasn't even sure that <Nick> was alive.  But she'd promised
to wash the Caddie if the third season was finished and since it <was>
finished, she had to wash that . . . car.

The list was still there.  Susan ran an eye over what she had so far,
added 'hose?' to her spreadsheet, and sighed.

A call to the Knighties was in order.  It was time to get down to
business.


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


RatCam (1/1)
Tigon Diana Hooker/AlphaWoof of the WoofPack
Wednesday/31 JUL 1996/Just after midnight

Toronto, Merc Headquarters


Timon the VampRat woke from a dream where he was being dangled over a
snake. Little heart pounding...for a vampire...he called to mind the
two things he loved the most; his rescuer from that fate, Tigon, and a
box of saltine crackers. Once calm, he wriggled out of the bag tossed
haphazardly on the unmade bed of Lizbet's Merc quarters.

He stretched...little hand-like paws clenching the sheet fabric, rump
in the air, eyes squeezed half shut, and a small peep emerging from
his yawning mouth. Kinks out, he began the painstaking process of
post-sleeping grooming. His little pink tongue cleaned every bit of
his sparkling white fur from the base of his tail to his chest. Then
he shift to cleaning his face and ears much as a cat would, before
finishing with a careful cleaning of his long pink tail.

Abulutions finished, he finally took notice of the surrounding chaos
that could only occur in a room of Lizbet's. His little vampiric heart
thumped once in terror...wherever he was, it definitely was far from
his human, Tigon.

The last thing he recalled was crawling into the snug confines of a
bag in the basement...as much as he enjoyed honking the noses of all
the dogs, a rat had to have his rest. From the scent in the room, he
knew was near Tigon's friend Lizbet. Perhaps he could find her and she
would feed him a nice blood-soaked saltine. Timon flew to the floor
and poked his wiggly whiskers out of the ajar door.

The outside of Lizbet's room was even more chaotic than the inside.
People scurried about, carting boxes of chocolate and other strange
things while muttering in conspiracy-ridden tones. The swirl of
strange scents confused Timon, and he was unable to place Lizbet's.

Nonetheless, the hunger in his belly drove him out. He scurried along
the baseboard, avoiding all the giant feet. He wondered briefly at the
lack of fabric that normally seemed to cover those feet. Rounding a
corner, he found himself suddenly face to face with a cat.

"Meeerrrrrroooowwww pffffttttt," said the cat, arching its back and
puffing its tail. Timon wiggled his whiskers happily at it, always
glad to see a cat (even if it wasn't one of his own). The cat took a
couple of feints at Timon, which the rat easily dodged before darting
forward to deliver his own trademark greeting...his little hand
whipping forward to deliver a quick-but-firm squeeze to the cat's
nose. Upon receiving the nose honk, the cat's eyes bugged out. Then
the cat leapt six to seven feet straight up in the air before tearing
off into a catfit. Startled mercs watched the cat whisk by in
bafflement.

A few hours later and Timon had developed a definite dislike for the
place. It wasn't that it was noisy and apparently lacking in the basic
necessity of crackers...it was what he had smelled and found.

In the tunnels underneath the headquarters was the smell of death...
rat deaths. In the stock of bottled blood where he was finally able to
slake his hunger (with cow...his usual), he found bottled rat blood.
Whatever this place was, it wasn't rat friendly. If he hadn't sensed
the impending dawn, he would attempt to leave the place and find Tigon
and the dogs.

But dawn was unavoidable. Yawning and stretching, his pink eyes
searched for a place unfettered by hustle and bustle. Finally they
stopped on a small door cut in the bottom of a normal door. Quickly he
flew across the room and through it, causing it to swing and rattle in
his wake. Behind the door was a neatly maintained office, much like
the one he used to accompany Tigon to, when he could still go into the
sunlight. Looking around, he eyed the in/out box on the desk.

Flying into the lower half, he shredded up and arranged a sheet of
paper into a comfy bed, curled into a little sock-like ball, and fell
into deep slumber.


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


Supplies (1/4)
N&NPackers
by Mel Moser
Wednesday, July 31, 12:01am.

It seemed like they had been driving down side streets and over and
under bridges and underpasses for hours, Chana thought to herself as
Susan drove her car through late night streets of Toronto. I sure hope
Susan knows where she's going, she tried to calm herself as they
turned down yet another alley and sped through several quiet
intersections.

Laura had asked them to go on a very special mission.  Something about
picking up supplies.  Look for the door that says 'Supplies', she had
told them.  Well, first they had to find their destination.  Chana
glanced occasionally over at Susan, who she was almost sure was
hopelessly lost.  Just as they made another turn down yet another
strange looking street, she noticed that Susan was biting her lip and
glancing around as if more than a litte bit lost.

Chana was getting very worried.  Today had not been the the best
birthday she had ever had.  After a nice long phone call with her
husband and the quiet little birthday lunch the N&Npackers had thrown
for her, this birthday had been a little depressing.  She had never
spent her birthday so far away from home before and she wondered if
the others realized that.  She hoped that this War task Laura had
assigned them to do would be minor, without any of them getting into
trouble. She hoped no Cousins or Mercs or IBs had set a trap for them.
She just was not in the mood for it tonight.  Perhaps after their
mission was accomplished, she'd go back to the headquarters, take a
long hot bath and sleep it all away.   Yeah, that sounded like a good
idea.  She could already feel the relaxing warmth of the bath water
against her skin. Her attention wandered.

In the backseat of the car, tired of being tossed around as the car
turned, stopped and started, Idalia was a little grumpy, probably from
her lack of sleep over the past couple of days.  She had been rather
busy on the N&Npackers computer systems for the past several nights
organizing the surveillance team reports on the other factions.  While
the work was well worth it, it took alot of  energy and concentration,
and her eyes were well worn out from the strain.

Thus, both Chana and Idalia were surprised when Susan at last drew to
a halt in the end of a darkened alleyway and parked the car.  The
street lights barely lit the dark alley and the N&Npackers felt more
than a little nervous.  Through the light from the nearby street
light, Chana noticed the slight look of apprehension on Susan's face,
and then the expression was gone.  Hmmmm...  Chana wondered, naturally
suspicious. Did Susan know something they didn't?  No, Susan was a
dedicated N&NPacker, her loyalty was secure.  She was just imagining
things.  They were probably allon a bit of an edge. The N&Npack had
been quite successful in their attacks on the other factions over the
past couple of days.

Chana looked over the trio and their attire with a frown.  None of
them were really dressed for any major action.  Laura and Mel had
rushed them out the door so quickly, none of them had had to time
change.  Chana was still dressed up a bit from the party and wore
slacks and a nice shirt. She hoped they weren't going to be getting
dirty on this job.

The N&NPackers crept quietly through the alley and up the back steps
of what appeared to be restaurant.  At least it smelled that way
according to Chana who was wishing she had grabbed a snack before she
left the N&NPack HQ.  The back door opened into to a small, dimly lit
hallway.  To the left, they passed by a set of metal swinging door.
Through the door window, they could see a kitchen full of cooks and
waiters at work cleaning up and doing dishes.  Nope, better not draw
attention to themselves.  On their right were another set of double
doors, but these were made of wood.  The entrance to the restaurant no
doubt.  They continued on down the hall. Rounding a corner, they came
to a darker portion of the hallway that ended at a single door.   On
it was a sign that read "Supplies". They stopped.

"This must be it,"  suggested Idalia, looking around them to make sure
they were not being watched.  Everything looked quiet.

"Chana, be the lookout while we check things out." Susan asked.

Chana nodded and kept watch while the other two N&NPackers cracked
opened the door.

"Yep!"  Susan exclaimed.  "This is it!"  She walked through the door
closely followed by Idalia, who shut the door behind her leaving Chana
standing guard in the hallway.

Several long minutes passed.   It was awfully quiet in the hallway
except for the occasional noises from the kitchen.  Several more long
minutes went by without any signs that Susan and Idalia were coming
out.  Chana sighed. She was going to have to go in after them.

The door opened into another hallway. This one was well lit and
carpeted. To her left, Chana could see the entrance to the restrooms. 
On the wall was taped a sign, handwritten with a black magic marker.

                ---  "This way to your big 'Supplies'".

The arrow pointed to the right towards the door opposite the door she
just entered.

"Hmmm... I hope Susan and Idalia aren't in trouble!" Chana wondered
aloud. Visions of Susan and Idalia being kidnapped by Mercs or Cousins
flashed through her mind.

The door opened outwards.  Chana slowly opened it.  The door led to
the outside.  She couldn't see where the door led to so she opened it
wider.... "Surprise!!!!!!!!!!"   Many voices shouted together loudly
in unison. Cheers rang out all across the well-lit outdoor patio of
the cafe where a large group of people stood scattered about.
Familiar people and faces, including several new ones, some of her
friends from IRC and the FK Wallflowers no doubt.

Chana stood there in shock looking out at her fellow N&NPackers and FK
online friends as they continued by singing "Happy Birthday to You!"
Some of her best new friends were all here.  She smiled and was soon
quickly enveloped in many warm hugs and well wishes.


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


Supplies (3/4)
N&NPackers
by TJ Goldstein, Unaffiliated
Wednesday, July 31, 12:15am

TJ grumbled, as he was wont to do, as he picked his way down the dark
alley, having found his way blocked by another car that had been
parked there.  What he was doing there in the middle of the night?
"Asking to be mugged," he said aloud, shifting the heavy package to
his other arm.

But the message Sorcha had left with the hotel desk clerk had been
very specific about what to buy, how to wrap it, and where to bring
it. Which meant that something was definitely up, because she'd never
_tell_ him what she herself wanted, firm in the belief that "If I have
to tell you, it doesn't mean as much."

He sighed and picked his way past a trash can.  This was supposed to
be a fun, easy week.  A quick trip to Toronto to cover a movie shoot
for his cousin.  Easy.  Quick.  Fun.

SHORT.

But no, then she'd run into someone, she'd said in the message he'd
read as he realized there was no way they were going to make their
plane back to Florida.  Someone he'd be interested in seeing.

Add to that the Forever Knight documentary he'd found out about, and
he knew it was a good thing he'd paid up his credit cards.

Then there were the weird things that were beginning to happen, from
the broadcasts from the Nightcrawler that seemed to come through on
his Walkman no matter what station he set it to to the fact that he
couldn't find so much as an M&M of chocolate anywhere.

And then there was that cryptic note about the monkeys.  He still
wasn't sure what THAT was all about, or even that it was meant for
him.  In fact, he was pretty sure it wasn't.

So there he was looking for a door that said "Supplies" and hoping
that everything would become clear.  Eventually.

"There it is."  He entered past the restaurant kitchen and followed
the noise that indicated that there was life somewhere in the
building, and a familiar voice drifted towards him.

Finally he came to a room full of people who seemed happier than a
project manager at a wrap-up party.  Everyone -- and that is everyone
--was happy, laughing, joking, eating cake and drinking more varieties
of soda than he had ever known were made.  *Must be Canada,* he
thought.  But as he approached, a woman left her post at the door and
approached him, and a hush fell over the room as everyone turned to
look at him and he wondered if he hadn't wandered into a private party
as he tried to find Sorcha among the group.

Finally he found her standing, smiling, behind another redhead, who
called out to the woman approaching him.  "Idalia!  It's OK.  This is
TJ, Sorcha's vouched for him."

"And don't you forget it, TJ," he heard Sorcha say as the party
started up again as though nothing had happened.  Quickly she was on
his arm.  "Oh good, you got my message," she said as she took the
package from him and put it on a table.  "TJ, this," she said,
pointing to the other redhead, "is Mel."

After a moment it dawned on him.  "Not Red," he finally said.  "Red?
As in my fellow committee member who I talk to all the time but have
never met, Red?"  He spun around to the woman who had begun to
intercept him. "And you're Idalia?  As in Id!"  He looked around
quickly.  "Who else do I know here?"

"A few people," Mel nodded, smiling mischeivously.  "Welcome to the
War."

That one statement triggered a flood of understanding.  All of a
sudden, he realized what was going on.  All of the weird happenings,
the strange messages, they all made a bizzarre kind of sense.

Sorcha introduced him around, to people he had spoken to, either on
the IRC or on one list or another -- Ithildin, Idalia, Chana, even
Soul. He found it especially nice to meet John so he could rib him in
person instead of by e-mail.

Finally, Sorcha saw fit to explain to him that this was a surprise
party for Chana, and that's what the present was for, as she dragged
him over and together the two of them wished her a rousing "Happy
Birthday," giving her the box of scented candles, assorted packages of
herbal tea, bath salts, body lotion, and soft Irish music CD's, and a
card.

TJ shook his head.  Why was he not surprised?  Knowing what a died-in-
the-wool Nick & NatPacker Sorcha was, he should have expected this.

TJ enjoyed himself, but finally he had to leave.  He liked the
Nick&NatPackers despite his preference for remaining Unaffiliated, but
his journalistic senses were getting the better of him.  He knew that
tomorrow he would be all over town investigating this war.

But before he left, he found Mel and asked her, "What do you know
about monkeys?"


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


Supplies (2/4)
by Mel Moser and N&NPack, with Cousins April and Denise and TJ
Wednesday, July 31, 12:30am


Chana looked around at the crowd of people spread out over the patio.
Even at this late hour, the party was in full swing.  People were were
drinking and laughing, having a good time.  She could hear the sounds
of the Forever Knight soundtrack echoing from the outside stereo
system.  A whole table was filled with gifts and cards, including her
own N&Npackers T-shirt and backpack.

"So, are you having a happy birthday now?"  Asked a voice beside her.

Turning, she smiled at Mel, who pressed another Diet Pepsi into her
her hand.  She began to answer, but was interrupted by the murmur that
went through the crowd.

Out to the side entrance of the patio, a disagreement was growing
louder  by the minute, bringing the conversation on the patio to a
standstill. The sound of voices being raised in a growing argument
echoed across the terrace.

A female voice was heard saying, "I don't care what your orders were,
buster. We're her friends and WE ARE going to her party!"

On the steps leading up to the patio, the maitre'd could be seen
blocking the entrance to the terrace. "I'm sorry, miss, but-"

"Listen, buddy, " the female voice rang out, slightly louder than
before. "We have some dangerous friends.  Friends you DON'T want to
mess with, if you get my drift. Either move or...."

"I will not be moved by threats."  But the man's French-accented voice
sounded a little less sure of himself.

Another female voice spoke up, this one a bit deeper than the first as
well as more sinister sounding.  "I strongly suggest you let us pass.
You don't want to get into trouble with your manager, right?

There was a long silent pause.

The maitre'd sighed.  "No, I guess you're right.  I wouldn't want to
get in-"

"Kewl! Coming through!"

The maitre'd was pushed out of the way and two women hastily climbed
the remaining stairs and entered the cafe patio.

"April!!!!!!! Denise!!!!!!!!!"  a number of voices shouted,
recognizing the two young ladies making their way through the crowd.
Some of the N&Npackers recoiled, fearful that the party was being
invaded by Cousins.  There were murmurs of concern and worry as the
Cousins walked towards them.  One of the newcomers was checking out
the presents table while the other was taking a good look at the food
table.

Mel and Laura stepped forward to stop them before they came much
further. They stood there staring at each other for a second.  Mel
gave April her best cold, steady stare while Laura crossed her arms
and eyed Denise carefully.

Mel sighed and tried to keep from smiling.  "Temporary truce?"  She
asked Cousin April and Denise.  "Just for Chana while we're here at
the party?"

Denise looked over Laura's shoulder at Chana, who was standing back in
the crowd, trying to hide a smile.  Cousin April pulled Denise aside
and whispered something in her ear.  Denise whispered something back
and Cousin April grinned.

Chana watched the antics of her friends with amusement.  This war was
so entertaining.  She was amused by the glee and enthusiasam with
which her friends acted out their roles.  One would never know that
they were actually friends who chatted almost nightly. She moved up
closer behind Laura and Mel so she could get a better look at these
two mischievious Cousins.  She noticed Heather moved over to keep
herself between Chana and the Cousins.

Heather whispered to Chana, "Stay behind me.  You never know what
these two are up to."

Cousin April looked back at Laura and Mel, and attempted to make the
evil grin disappear from her face by trying to match the neutral
expression and attitude of the Cousin standing next to her.  She
cleared her throat and held out her hand to the N&Npackers second-in-
command. "Agreed."

Mel shook April's hand and then pulled her into a hug.  The Cousins
quickly found themselves being introduced to their N&Npackers friends.

They were even more surprised when several N&NPackers moved forward
and enveloped the newcomers in hugs.

"Hey, look over there!"  Mel pointed at a tall fellow that just walked
out onto the patio. "It's TJ!"


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


Supplies (4/4)
N&NPackers & Friends (Cousins April, Denise, & Cherri, Vaquera
Charlyne, and TJ, the Unaffiliated)
by Mel Moser
Wednesday, July 31, 12:45am

There was a cool night breeze across the patio, the partial moon was
still shining high in the sky, and the noise of the party echoed
across the terrace where Chana's birthday party was still in full
swing.  Chana smiled as she saw all her friends laughing and still
telling stories. And  she had received some great birthday presents.
In addition to the N&NPackers t-shirt and backpack, Chana had received
a set of videotapes of the Canadian version of 1st Season Forever
Knight. And Denise had given her a portable Sony CD player, and Mel
had gotten her mini-speakers and a cigarette lighter power adapter to
go with the CD player.  The whole setup would be perfect for listening
to the FK CD during her long two-hour drive to  and from college each
day.

Chana saw all the N&NPackers, as well as her other friends from IRC.
Over talking amiably to Mel, she saw that their good friend Charlyne,
a Vaquera, had even made it to her party.

Another hush fell across the groups of people as another person
entered the patio.  The woman was dressed in a beautiful black silk
dress, and look exhausted, but happy.  People looked around seeing if
anyone recognized her.

"Oh my God!"  cried a voice from the group near the bar.

"Ooooooo!!!  Cherri!!!" Shouted Cousin April.  "No more cow suit!!!!"
April tore across the room and gave Cherri a big hug, nearly crumbling
the large envelope Cherri was carrying.

"Take it easy."  Cherri responded, still looking a little dazed.

"You're Cherri?"  Mel asked, walking up to the two Cousins. "Sorry,
didn't recognize you without the cow suit."  She grinned and gave the
newcomer a hug.  "Welcome to the party!  I'm glad you could make it."

"Thanks."  Cherri replied as she started looking over the crowd for
Chana, "I'm glad I could make it, too!"  She felt the cool summer
breeze against her bare shoulders and smiled.  It was so wonderful to
be out of the *darn* suit.

Charlyne appeared out of nowhere and pressed a tall, cool drink into
Cherri's hand.  "Here, I think you probably could use this."

Denise walked and hugged her fellow Cousin.  "I see you are looking
*much* better."

Cherri smiled weakly, glad to see another familiar face. It was a
little strange seeing all these new faces, especially because she felt
somewhat naked not having the heavy costume on.  "Thanks, " She
replied to Denise, "Where's Chana?"  She looked around, wondering who
the birthday girl was. They had never met in person, so Cherri was
eager to meet her new online friend for the first time.

Charlyne overheard their conversation and took Cherri by the hand over
to Chana.

"Happy Birthday, Chana!"  Cherri gave Chana a big hug and then held
out the big envelope.

Chana looked at Cherri awkwardly.  "Umm... nice dress."

"Yeah," agreed TJ, giving Cherri more than a long glance.  He then
turned his gaze to Sorcha, wiggled his eyebrows, and whispered
something in her ear.  Sorcha thwapped him hard and TJ grimaced
momentarily, but the smile was still on his face when he put his arms
around her.

Sorcha said hello and pulled TJ away, cursing at him in Gaelic.

"Is this for me?"  Chana asked, noticing the white envelope that
Cherri was holding.

"Oh, yeah."  Cherri replied, watching TJ & Sorcha walk away for a
second then turned and handed the envelope to Chana. "Happy Birthday."

Chana opened the envelope revealing an autographed copy of the
official Cherri-in-the-Cowsuit picture.  "Kewl!"  shouted Chana and
gave her another hug.

Cherri quickly found herself with familiar friends, friends from IRC,
SKL, and the FK Wallflowers, and FORKN-L.  There was Idalia, Heather,
Pat, Tina (aka Bast), Gayle, and many more.  'Ah, yes,' Cherri thought
to herself, 'A perfect way to celebrate.... among wonderful friends." 
She wandered to the bar for another drink.

*****
Sometime later....

The party began to wind down and the N&Npackers and their special
guests began cleaning up and heading back to their headquarters for a
good night's rest.  The war had just begun and they had much more
planning and plotting to do.  Denise and April escorted a slightly
tipsy Cousin Cherri back to CERK headquarters, and just a handful of
people remained to finish cleaning up.

"We did good, didn't we?"  Mel asked Charlyne, her Wonder Twin.

"Yes, most definitely."  Charlyne replied.  "It's wonderful to
remember that all of us can get along, even in the middle of the war."

"Agreed," replied Mel, smiling at her Vaquera friend.

# The End #


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


What *Is* That Skylight For, Anyway?
July 31st, Wendesday Morning, approx 2 AM
Nick's Loft
by Elizabeth Ann Lewis

For someone who was scared of heights, Lizbet seemed to spend a lot of
time on top of buildings. This time, she was perched above Nick's
loft, staring through the skylight at the masses of sleeping Knighties
below.

As quietly as she could, she broke into the loft. On her back was a
large backpack, currently empty. If Lizbet had been smart, she would
have gathered up her loot, and gotten out.

But this was Nick's *loft*! The same giddiness that had overwhelmed
her in The Raven took over here. The reason why she was a Merc--aside
from the fact that she was terminally broke--was that she could never
make up her mind which was her favorite character. Diehards refused to
chose. She chose all of them, but Nick was certianly near the top of
the list.

There was the refrigerator that held cow blood. There was the couch
where first season N&N had often spent time together--only watching
movies, of course, darn Nat's luck, due to the Brick. There was the
beautiful Gothic carved fireplace.  And there was...

Finally shaking herself free of her rapt facination with *being* in
the loft, she did her duty, tip-toeing among the sleeping bags,
gathering up socks from people's belongings. A voice made her freeze.

"Right, Nick." Cautiously, Lizbet looked around. It was Cath Boone.
Lizbet recognized her from Cousin Cherri's party. And she apparently
was talking in her sleep.  "Brown book. Must find. Very important.
Account numbers. Yes, we'll..."  The rest trailed off into a delicate
snore.

Hmmm. *Very* interesting indeed. But she was here to fulfill one job
before she got involved in another.

Her original plan called for leaving socks adorning feet alone, as
well as socks that smelled of feet. But the challenge of trying to
take socks from owners currently using them appealed to her Merc
instincts. She had a rough moment when she accidentally trailed some
of her hard-won bootie across Perri's face.  But she merely batted it
away and muttered, "Darn cat," before turning over and falling back
asleep.

By the time Lizbet was through, she had enough socks that the backpack
was bulging. She smiled. Her employer would be pleased.

Then she headed upstairs. She knew that Nick wouldn't be in the loft,
but at least his socks were. Gleefully, she cleared out his sock
drawer. She packed up and got ready to leave, then remembered at the
last minute that Kira had asked her to get the black and white striped
shirt from For I Have Sinned.

Opening Nick's closet door was like entering a playhouse. Lizbet loved
clothes and playing dress up. "Bloody hell, doesn't the man throw
*anything* away?!?!?" She was seriously tempted to make off with the
Spanish outfit from "Sons of Beliel," but contented herself with
fliching one of the second season vests. "The marshmellow pants should
be burned, though," she muttered as she grabbed the shirt Kira wanted
and exited the loft.

Mission accomplished. At least, part one...


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


Cat Games
by Cousin Tok
2 AM Wednesday, 7/31
Place:  CERK

Cousin Tok sat in the kitchen, indulging in more of her private stock
of Bailey-flavored Haagen-Dazs.  Merlin was content to lay on Tok's
feet, although the last thing one needed at mid-summer in Toronto was
a furry foot-warmer.  Willow sat on Tok's lap, trying to help herself
to the ice cream.

Willow was back to her normal gray self after her close encounter with
the KISS impersonators' extra greasepaint.  Tok smiled to herself,
then got that vacant if not quite brickish look on her face as she
went into a flashback...

                     * * *

(Sunday morning, 7/28, immediately after "Cousin Willow gets KISSed")
Bathing a kitten is somewhat easier than de-fanging a vampire, but not
by much. Merlin sat nearby watching the proceedings; if a cat could
grin (not to mention outright laughing), Tok swore he did.  She
splashed some water at him and he moved back.

Suddenly, something moved in the darkness.  Merlin ran back upstairs,
while Willow leapt to Tok's shoulder and dripped copiously.  Out of
the shadows emerged an adult male cat, gray.  His only truly unusual
feature were his eyes, which glowed brightly golden.

"Gandalf!" Tok cried out happily.  He'd been in Toronto ever since
becoming a vamp-kitty.  Apparently, the General had put him to work at
CERK.  It was certainly one way to keep the rat and mouse population
in check while Screed was out of commission.  Even a vamp-kitty
appreciates a good scratch behind the ears, and soon Gandalf was
purring as loudly as he ever had, even when Willow dripped on him.

<Mom, I found something you might be interested in.>  Gandalf turned
and disappeared back into the shadows.  He returned a moment later
pushing a brown leather book that looked like Tok's journal but
wasn't.  Tok picked it up and held it away from Willow, who was still
dripping.  This would bear closer examination later, after she'd
showered.  She turned back to where