********************************************************************* War 7 File 6 ********************************************************************* True Blue Date: Wednesday, July 31st (late evening) Place: Merc HQ Author: Dawn Steele -- Merc. Occurs after "The Powers of Windex", and "Pretty (not) in Pink" and a little while after I get back from my "Just a Little Documentary" stuff, and just Lizbet gets back with the antidote. ------------------------------- Dawn wandered around Merc HQ, knocking on peoples doors and trying to beg, borrow or steal some clothes. She already had on a melange of shorts, gym pants, shirts and sweaters. Layer upon layer -- and despite the hot weather she was shivering helplessly. She was a faint, but distinct blue. Her hands, bare of any gloves, were a darker tinge than her face. Knocking on Liz the Lucky's door, she wandered in at the command to enter. The door to the private bath (well she Liz the Lucky) was closed. Dawn knocked on it and raised her voice. "Liz? It's Dawn. You got a sweater I can borrow?" "Sorry, but I didn't bring any." Dawn heard the sound of water splashing enthusiastically, and moaned. Liz must have heard her. "What's wrong with you?" "I don't know. I started feeling bad on the way back from the documentary." Liz, soaking in an Aveena full bath, put one and one together and made 'PINK'! "Do you know about the stuff LC put on the bust?" "What stuff?" After contemplating getting out of the tub for precisely 5 seconds before thinking better of it (she itched!), Liz yelled "Take a look at the email message Lizbet forwarded to me -- it should be on the monitor." Dawn moved up close (So I'm nearsighted!), and slowly read LaCroix's message. The next few minutes were filled with obsenities. Most of them Dawn hadn't even realized that she'd known. They covered four languages, and numerous bodily conditions. Finally Dawn sighed, and shuffled back to the door. "Tell Lizbet she better get the antidote to me as soon as possible, or I won't be responsible for what I do to her... or LaCroix." "How pink are you?" Liz yelled. "I'm not pink, I'm... blue." More grumbling. Dawn wasn't a happy camper when sick. "I've never had predictable reactions." She turned to Liz's bathroom door. "It seems to be hitting me late, fast and hard. Who knows... Maybe if I'm lucky, it'll all burn out tonight." Dawn stopped for a minute and sneezed into one of the kleenex she had with her. "Lizbet can find me in the hot tub." Dawn's disgruntled mutterings followed behind her all the way to the hot tub. Blue spots were starting to cover her hands and arms. This day was just , too busy. --------------------- Timeline note: I had Liz being with me at the documentary, and Lizbet had her in the "Pretty (Not) in Pink". Just consider that Liz went back to Merc HQ when she wasn't feeling well, and then herorically went back in the afternoon for her spot in part 3 of the documentary all covered in flesh colored makeup. ********************************************************************* A Last Minute Party Place: Merc HQ Author: Dawn Steele -- Merc. Date: Wednesday, July 31st, after "Just a Little Documentary" and after "True Blue". Notice: I am that this will be the last backdated story I post. It probably won't be, but I'm going to try. ---------------------------------------------------------------------- Will's tape was just an excuse for Dawn to throw a party. The truth of the matter was that she had missed both the reopening of the Raven, and the private showing at the ROM. As any war participant knows, it was really the quality of the parties that made the wars (or auctions, exhibits, etc.) So as soon as the tapes had been made and sent off, she had taken the master copy, as well as some other tapes down to the viewing room. The kitchen proved to be a rich source of goodies, and she had snuck into the chocolate shop to get a few choice items (which she put on her tab). Chips, pop, hot chocolate, veggie snacks, dips of all sorts, popcorn, punch (alcoholic and non-alcoholic)... she had even ordered an assortment of pizzas! Liz the Lucky had been the first to arrive. She had settled herself cross legged on the couch, and showed off the large purple bruises that had resulted from her 'accident' with Will that afternoon. After pointing out how pretty the color was (espescially the one shaped like a butterfly), she spent the next five minutes covering them with Arnica gel. Although the backpack Dawn had brought from New Brunswick wasn't very big, she had somehow managed to stuff her entire collection of FK shows, HL shows, ... and all her copies of things that Fans Should Not and Do Not Have. They started off the evening with the "Oatmeal Crisp" commercials while waiting for the others to arrive. Samantha showed up to the resounding sound of "IT'S 'NO OATMEAL!!" echoing around the room. She settled into a corner of the coach, and grabbed one of the bowls of buttered popcorn. Dawn went back to her room and brought out the stash of socks she had received for herself and her helpers in her latest job. True to FK tradition, she put them all in a bit tub so that they could be used as TV ammunition if necessary. Her mind still fuzzy from the afteraffects of the 'poison' LaCroix had sprayed on the stolen bust, Dawn was just glad that Lizbet had gotten the antidote to her before she got further into her plans for blowing up CERK HQ -- the sticking point having been figuring out who'd hire her for the job. The next few hours passed in a pleasant haze. Mercs (Christina, Lisa, Lizbet, etc.) came in and out. Jobs successfully completed, and non- secret ones were discussed and plotted. Timeline clashes were all successfully avoided due to the vaque and unspecific nature of this post. Christina somehow managed to choke on some pizza during Take 37 (where Will got tackled by a cameraman who had just seen "Last Knight" the other day, and was harboring some resentment towards Nick Knight). Laughing, eating and throwing socks all at the same time is not to be encouraged. There was some fighting over who got to use the Heimlich manuever, but Christina managed to recover by herself before any final decision was made. Near the end of the party, Christina and Dianne tried to use the opportunity to have an impromtu meeting. Unfortunately, most of the mercs were in a serious state of sock throwing sillyness and wouldn't pay attention -- despite threats of using the one, the only, the great Shillelagh-of-Great-Pain. The party wound down bit by bit. Mercs drifted off, and Dawn started gathering all the used dishes together to take to the kitchen. (I love virtual dishes -- they're so easy to clean!) Dawn also tried to snag Dianne's attention at the end of the party. She had discovered the previous day that LaCroix had been the one who had attacked Diane E. Dawn was in a moral quandrary as to whether to tell her employer or not. She didn't want Lana to get in a futile attempt to get back at LaCroix. Unfortunately, since Dianne was examining her Shillelagh at the time and trying to figure out if it had been switched with Tigon's model (The Great Shillelagh had never failed her before after all), Dianne didn't hear, and Dawn decided to put off telling Lana in the hope of avoiding backposting a story. And thus we end this somewhat incoherent post, that was planned, half- done, stopped, ignored, restarted, re-ignored, and then posted in a fit of "why not! If Catherine Boone (oh WarMistss) can post stuff from War 5, then I can post this!" mood. The end. ---------------------- For Diane E. ********************************************************************* Paper Trails....2/2 by: Cousin Candice (with Erik playing a supporting role ;) date: Wednesday July 31 time: afternoon Place: Kinko's Copies on Bloor Candice and Erik arrived at Kinko's at precisely 2:30, disks in hand. The familiar rustling of paper made Candice smile -she knew she had come back at the right time -that same clerk was on duty again. The clerk looked up sheepeishly, but when he -saw- who it was smiling at him waiting to be served, a look of sheer horror painted itself across his face and didn't go away until she spoke. By then, the clerk was shaking visably. "Hi!," Candice said brightly "I'm back, and this time, I've got some legitamate work for you to do!" The clerk, backing away into his boss's office was shaking his head, "No, no, no, no...not again, please don't ....please...please?" Erik watched Candice leave the disks on the counter and hop over it and corner the little sales guy in the office. She slammed the door shut and waited. In the five minutes Erik was left alone, he had inserted the disks and copied everything to the hard-drive like Candice had told him to. She said it was easier to work that way or else the computer would search the disks for the files every time they needed to be printed out. That, Candice said, would take forever. And they needed a LOT of printing done in very little time. The door opened with a little squeak just as Erik had positioned himself behind the chair at the computer. The clerk seemed quite a bit more cooperative. "Que ditez-vous?" "C'est pas de quoi...relax, we'll be out of here in an hour." True to form, Candice and Erik left Kinko's Copies in one hour's time. They headed back to CERK to rally up some help and headed for NatPack HQ. The Cousins waited from 5 to 5:30. When the last of the NatPackers had gone, the Cousins made their attack. ********************************************************************* Employee Warning By: Janette DuCharme via Raven Cynthia Date: July 31, 1996 Time: 6:00 p.m. Text of a notice found posted to the chain link fence surrounding the (de)consecrated Church, aka Vaquero Headquarters: (What, you think just because I'm a Raven who wears jeans and birkenstocks I'm walking through Goose Goo? No way.) To: Bonnie Pardoe From: Raven Management We understand you are unable to make it to work this evening. Since the payment you receive for each night's singing duties is a crate of blood for your newly coifed leader, you are hereby notified that this breach of your deal means you will not receive said crates this week. We sincerely regret the inconvenience this might cause your host, and we expect to see you Thursday evening at the usual time. (A private note in a small envelope attached to the above notice read: Bonnie, under the circumstances, I sincerely hope you stop sharing a room with him. C.) ********************************************************************* Who does she think she is? By: Partly - Perkulators Wed. 7/31 - 7 pm Partly, Robin and Lynne slowly walked toward the Four Seasons Hotel, the rest of the Perks followed listlessly behind. They had gone out for dinner using one of the gift certificates they had won, and had had a truly wonderful time. But none of them were feeling particularly perky. In fact perky hadn't been in the picture since their meeting with Quill, funeral director and cross dresser. One thought kept circling around and around in their heads: Tracy *could* be alive. "There's a big parade and party going on this weekend." Lynne said. "And there's a Shakespearean play on Saturday, too." "It should be fun," Robin didn't sound like she meant it. "Hope the weather is nice." Partly nodded noncommittally, and lead them into the hotel lobby. She stopped at the concierge desk, and inquired about messages and mail. The tall, thin man behind the desk gave her a disapproving look before turning to fulfill her request. Partly sighed. The hotel was beautiful, but both of the concierge were idiots. No, not idiots, she corrected herself. Snobs. People who thought that just because the Perks had won the stay in a raffle, they didn't deserve respect. This one, she thought his name was Jeffery, was the worst. Oh, well, she was too tired to do anything about that now. "Mail. Messages. Visitors." He placed three piles of papers in front of her, then turned his back on her. Partly gathered the papers and headed to the elevator when she saw what was written on the top one: "INCOMING PHONE CALL: Tues. 7/30 11 am. FROM: Tracy Vetter RE: Urgent Help Needed." She stopped so fast that Robin ran into her. "Signal next time, will you?" Partly ignored her, quickly scanning the rest of phone messages. There were five more, all saying the same thing and dated about 4 hours apart. The last one came in at noon that day. Partly almost ran back to the desk. "Excuse me." When the concierge didn't turn around, Partly reached over the desk and grabbed his arm, forcing him to face her. "Excuse me, but why didn't we receive any of these messages?" She flashed the stack under his nose. "We were here when most of these came in." She spoke loudly enough not to be ignored. Jeffery glanced at the notes. "Your phone was out of order and was not accepting outside calls. We took messages." "Why didn't you let us know?" Partly couldn't believe this. All this time Tracy had been contacting them and this idiot didn't give them the messages. And they were from *Tuesday*, she felt like she'd spent a week on the one miserable day. "Why didn't you call them up?" "There didn't seem to be a need." He started to leave. "No need?" Partly gabbed him by the arm again and pointed at the note. "They're *all* marked urgent." The concierge pulled out of her grasp with a disgusted look. "It is not my job to babysit immature Americans and their drunken harlot friends." Partly was sure she had stepped into the middle of the wrong conversation. "What are you talking about?" "You're friend. The one who left the phone calls and is fond of very revealing black leather, she stopped by here twice." He looked down his long nose at Partly. "I gave you the notes." Partly handed the phone messages to a confused Robin, and quickly scanned the "Visitor's" list. Tracy Vetter had been there at 3 and 7 pm. She glanced at her watch. That was just 15 minutes ago. "Didn't she want to wait for us?" "I will not have that element in this lobby, no matter how sick they claim to be. Now if you don't mind, I have work to do." He turned his back on Partly. "Stop. Stop right there." Partly voice held a thin edge of ice she reserved for the occasions she was seriously considering killing things. Jeffery stopped. "You're telling me she was sick and you kicked her out?" The confrontation started to draw some attention. A deskclerk appeared beside them and Jeffery, finally sensing a problem, came out from behind his desk. "Please calm down. There is nothing to get excited about." "Nothing to get excited about?" Partly raised her voice further, attracting attention from all the people in the room. "You keep messages marked 'Urgent Help Needed' for more than 24 hours, and then you kick out people because they're sick, and you don't think I should be excited?" Robin and Lynne backed off several feet, not sure where this was going, but knowing they didn't want to be in the middle of it. Jeffery glanced about worriedly. "I'm sure we can take care of this in a more private place." He gestured to a door behind him. Partly ignored the offer. "I don't want privacy. I don't want to talk to you. I want a manager and I want one NOW." A crowd had formed at the entrance to the bar. "I want to know who put an idiot like you in a position of power." A look close to fear passed over Jeffery's face, but just as suddenly, he smiled, staring behind Partly. "There," he pointed to the entrance of the hotel, "she back. No harm done." Partly turned to see a woman dressed in a black coat and hat and carrying a large bag, stagger toward them. She had just reached the carpeting when she stumbled and fell. Partly was the first to reach the fallen woman. She knelt beside her. "Tracy?" Partly gently turned her over and stared into Jamie's face. Jamie's eyes fluttered open and she pulled herself close to Partly, their faces inches apart. "Partly, my faithful follower. Tell Vachon I love him." She collapsed dramatically again. "Jamie? Jamie!?" Partly shook her gently. There was no response. "She said her name was Tracy Vetter," Jeffery said. "And you had better get her out of the lobby." Partly reached up and grabbed the concierge by his tie. "You miserable little worm. You are going to help me move her upstairs and then you are going to get me a doctor. Because if anything happens to her..." she didn't finish the sentence. Whatever she would do to him wouldn't be nearly as bad as what the NatPack would do if anything happened to the ListMommy ****** Twenty minutes later a doctor walked out of Partly's room in the hotel. The Perks, all assembled for the first time, rose to meet him. He lifted a hand to stop their questions. "She'll be fine. She's dehydrated and hasn't had anything to eat for a while, but she's resting now. She should make a full recovery." He picked up his suit coat, and headed for the door. "I can't do anything else. Just make sure that she drinks a lot of liquids and start her off eating something easily digested. OK?" Partly nodded. "What about," she wasn't sure how to phrase this. "Is she delirious?" The doctor smiled. "Oh, no. She very rational. She knew the answers to all the questions: name, address, phone number." He opened the door to leave, but Partly held onto the door. "And what did she say? What did she say her name was?" Almost all the Perks spoke at once. The Doctor looked like he thought he should be examining *them*. "Tracy Vetter." He paused. "That is right, isn't it?" Partly didn't even consider trying to explain. "Yes. Thank you." She closed the door behind him and turned back to the Perks. "Well, I think we should let the NatPack know we have Jamie. And we should find out what happened to her. And..." she headed to the bar, "I need a drink." Suddenly ear-splintering load music came from the bedroom occupied by Jamie. It took a couple of seconds to identify "I wanna rock 'n roll all night" over the distortion. As the rest of the Perks scrambled to the bedroom, Partly continued to the bar. "In fact, I may need several." ********************************************************************* Losers, Weepers (1/1) Day: 7/31 7:30 pm ish Location: The Fang Gang House After: Finders Keepers Written by: Kira Chistiakoff, Merc Letting myself into the house with my key, I wondered if there was anyone home. (Where I live, doors don't get locked) I figured myself lucky if I didn't run into Lizbet, she was sure to be a bit upset, I was after all cutting it real close. I headed into the kitchen, 'cause that's where the stairs to the basement are, and nearly tripped over a dog. (Obviously mortal, since it's still light out.) After a few well chosen epithets, I continued my trek, lugging the sizable bag of socks with a bit of difficulty. Nearly tripping down the stairs, I found myself face to face with one of the *other* dogs, and from the way his(?) eyes were glowing, obviously quite upset about having been so rudely awakened. I took a step back, to show I meant no disrespect, and he decided I wasn't so bad, curled up and went back to sleep. Stepping across to the bin, I unburdened myself, and headed out the way I had come. Quietly, of course. Coming back out into the kitchen, I looked around for my shirt. //I know Lizbet said she'd leave it in the kitchen!// But all I found was one waterlogged, illegible piece of paper, that may at one time have been a note. I stood and stared at the piece of paper for a time, wondering what on earth was going on, and decided I had better take my chances, and go look for Lizbet. Upstairs, I found a room with a padlock on it.//Undoubtedly Lizbet's//Which meant she wasn't here, so I went looking for anyone else who was home. Which is when I stumbled across Tigon's room. An incredibly neat room, Tigon was stretched across her made bed, wearing *MY* shirt! "Hi, you must be Tigon. I'm Kira." I said, after she acknowledged my presence. "Nice to finally meet you, but might I ask what you are doing wearing my shirt?" "Oh, is this yours? Well, Finders, Keepers, and all that..." "Uhuh buster! That shirt is someone's payment, and I'm sure she will be quite upset if I don't show up with it in hand." "Well, I've grown quite attached to it, what's it worth to ya'?" " I'm paying for that shirt, fair and square, if you're not planning on giving it back, the question is, what's it worth to you?" "What did you have in mind?" "You can keep the shirt. She'll live. But you owe me one, and don't doubt, I'll come collecting." "Ummmmmm, how big of one?" "Let me just say, I've seen what you can do with dogs...I'll have a job for you in a few days. Enjoy the shirt!" I walked out of the house pleased with myself, the merc the shirt was for had pulled out of the job, *after* the shirt had been stolen for her, and since I would have a new puppy in a few days, I could use some help training her. ********************************************************************* Packages tied up with string... by Kristina (Perkulator) time: Wednesday, 7/31, early evening Kristina finished wrapping up a brown leather blank book she'd bought from the ROM in paper dotted with smiling suns. It was addressed to the Cousin HQ, and had a little card attached: "Partly tells me that you've been looking for little brown books. Enjoy! with affection, Kristina 'It _never_ hurts to help!'" She'd finished off the card with a big smiley face, and picked up another brown leather blank book to be sent to the Cousins One down, forty to go. ********************************************************************* The Sounds of Silence by Dianne la Mercenaire (with help from Berg ) [Timeline: 'round about 9pm, Weds. 7/31/96] [Place: Merc Central] Berg hated to admit it to a fellow Merc-- let alone the Grand High Poohbah-- but there was really no use in beating about the bush. "I need the location of NatPack Headquarters." Dianne frowned. "Look, I know you know where it is." He sighed. "I'm willing to pay." Dianne looked up at him, a gleam in her eye. "That's a very valuable secret. Took me a lot of work to figure it out so early on...." "What do you want?" Dianne laughed. "You get right to the point, I like that." She pondered for a moment. "You know I just moved cross-country. I really could use some new furniture...." Now it was Berg's turn to frown. She smiled, "But I'll settle for a little piece of your time...." ************* And so it was that, with Berg standing guard outside her door all night, in his armament of choice-- stylish enough to make a Raven drool, but quite functional; armed to the teeth yet dressed to kill-- that Dianne la Mercenaire, Grand High Poohbah of the Forever Knight Mercenary Guild was paid in that most rare and precious Wartime commodity of all... ... a full night's deep and peaceful sleep. **************** [Oh I *wish*... ] ********************************************************************* Miki's Hideaway (1/2) by Jane Credland (with help from Tami and Felicia) Date: Wednesday, July 31, 1996 (10:00 pm) Place: Downtown Toronto "Is this everyone?" Jane looked over the assembled Raven/ettes and shoved her nervousness back into a small dark corner of her psyche. Far more comfortable in jeans than a dress, she still tended to feel a bit out of place amidst their elegant black plumage. Felicia adjusted the laces on the bodice of her black velvet dress. "This is it. Tara said there was something else she had to do tonight and disappeared. Personally, I think Monday night was more than enough excitement for her." "And Catherine muttered something about orals and disappeared back underneath her pile of books. Between her studying and Jasmine doing her thesis revisions, that end of the bar is starting to look more like a library." Tami didn't raise her eyes from her examination of the lace up black leggings she had purchased at Siren. The lines were straight, weren't they? "Is Cynthia coming?" "Not this time. Bars aren't her favourite places to hang out." Jane looked back at the Raven and shrugged. "Except this one. The Raven isn't a bar to her; it's more like a second home." "The cab's here." Chanda pointed out. "Shall we?" Tami, Felicia, Lana, Chanda and Jane flowed across the sidewalk and into the cab. They were determined to find Miklos and bring him back to the Raven... even if it meant checking out every club in Toronto's downtown core. *** "Dan Ackroyd owns this place?" Lana sipped on her cherry coke, as she surveyed the crowd at X-Rays. "Mmhmm." Jane mumbled, keeping an eye on Tami and Felicia at the bar. They were perched on bar stools; Felicia with her legs crossed provocatively, displaying an interesting amount of bare leg. Felicia flipped her pale blonde hair over her shoulder, leaned on the counter and caught the bartender's attention. She signalled for another champagne cocktail and looked questioningly at Tami. "How can you drink that stuff." Tami shook her head and placed one hand protectively over her glass. "This is only just the start. Even if I only have one drink in each place, I'll be more than just a little tipsy by the time we get back to the Raven." "Thank you." Felicia smiled at the bartender and sipped her drink. She flirted with him mercilessly for a few minutes before getting down to business. "Are you all alone here tonight?" He preened under her attention, smoothing his reddish-blonde hair back and sucking in his stomach ever so slightly. "I can handle it. Monday nights aren't usually this busy, but Jeff's sick." "Jeff?" "He's the other bartender. Well, not the only other one. There are four of us: Jeff, Alexa, Gaetan and myself." "Miklos doesn't work here any more then?" Felicia ran her index finger around the edge of her glass. The bartender frowned, deepening the furrow between his brows. "Miklos? If he worked here, it must have been years ago. I've been here for the past three years, and so have the others." "My mistake." "So, what are you doing later on tonight?" Felicia delayed answering for a moment, then kicked Tami under cover of the bar. With a jolt, Tami dragged herself away from contemplating the effect Janette was likely to have on Jessica. "Uh... Felicia, I think our dates are here." "Finally." Releasing an over-emoted sigh, Felicia picked up her glass and slipped off the stool. "It was nice meeting you, Bob." "It's Rob." Staring after the Ravenette's disappearing back, Rob shook his head in confusion -- she had seemed so interested -- and got back to work. *** The group chatted happily as they walked along Queen Street West to their next destination, and window-shopped madly. Chanda and Lana made plans to come back the next day; there were a couple of stores that had the most *interesting* clothes, and with the exchange rate the outfits would be more than affordable. Jane pointed out various restaurants and other stores as they passed by, lingering at the displays outside the used bookstores. It had been so long since she'd bought a book, and the shelves in her apartment looked so empty after shipping her collection out to the library where her friend Sue's mom worked. She gazed wistfully at Bakka (her favourite science fiction book store) -- couldn't she go just one more time before she left Toronto -- but it was on the other side of the street and there was no way to slip over there unnoticed. *** The music at the BamBoo was bouncing off the walls and zinging ear drums when the group of Raven/ettes entered. Always an eclectic surprise, tonight the band was an interesting combination of reggae and neo-punk. It shouldn't have worked, but somehow it did. Chanda covered her ears in mock horror. "Doesn't any place around here play good old country music?" Jane smiled and shook her head. "Not on Queen Street West. You'll have to go out to the suburbs if you want to listen to that stuff." "Not your favourite, huh?" "Nope. Not even two years of living in Houston could convert me. In fact, it accomplished the exact opposite. Bonnie Raitt and kd lang are about as country as I get." "I prefer show tunes myself." Lana responded. "This noise is just giving me a headache. Can we just check out the bartender and get out of here?" "Why don't you go ahead. I'm going to join Tami and Felicia on the dance floor. Come and get us when you're ready to leave." Jane threw the last words over her shoulder; her whole body moving with the music as she walked. Chanda swept an arm out and led Lana to the back. "Shall we?" "Now what?" Lana looked helplessly at the sea of people that milled around in front of the bar. Three and four deep in places, the two Ravenettes couldn't even see the bartenders ... and neither of them was particularly short. "We push." Chanda barged ahead. With a few adept moves involving toe trampling, body shoving and, once, an elbow in a guy's ribs, she cleared a path to the front. Then, utilizing skills honed in numerous rowdy country-western clubs, she caught the attention of a bartender. "What can I get you?" The long, dark hair was the only feature that this woman had in common with Miklos. Petite and dark-skinned definitely didn't match. "A cherry co..uh." Lana choked half way through as Chanda nudged her ... hard. Taking advantage of the distraction, Chanda asked, "Is Miklos working tonight? He said we should drop by when we came to town." "Miklos? Sorry, there's no Miklos working here at all. Are you sure you're in the right place." "This is the BamBoo, right?" "Yep. Guess you got taken for a ride." The bartender commented sympathetically. "What does this Miklos look like? Maybe I've seen him around." "Tall, dark and handsome." Lana jumped in before Chanda could continue. When the woman looked at them sceptically, she continued. "Well, sort of. He's definitely tall and handsome. The dark's a bit problematic though. He's got gorgeous long dark hair but very pale skin." "No-one like that working here. Now, can I get you ladies some drinks?" Chanda and Lana had already disappeared by the time she finished the last sentence. Wanting to get out of the club before the pounding beat started a matching one in her head, Chanda refused to listen to excuses and herded Felicia, Jane and Tami off the dance floor and out the door. Two clubs down ... how many more to go? ********************************************************************* Revenge of the Emoticon 1/2 by Kathy Whelton Time: Wend late evening 10pm After Some Cousins Come Calling and A Farce in Three Acts Special thanks to Gehirn Karies and Leslie Grant Smith for their assistance Kathy rustled through the boxer shorts at That Special Something for Men. Tossing the horrendous cow print shorts everywhere. The salesmen were horrified, this was the third woman in fifteen minutes who came tearing in looking for the cherry boxers advertised on TV. The manager scratched his head. Not only did he not commission a commercial for a sale on boxers, he had no idea where the dozens of cow print boxers that lined his shelves had come from. Kathy took a deep breath, stared at the pack of cow print boxers in her hand. Slowly it began to dawn on her. There was some significance to cows and one of the fac...affiliations. She had tried to be a good newbie and read up on the wars. The COUSINS! She had left the loft unguarded. She had let herself be swept away by lustful thoughts of Nick in the cherry boxers. She raced for the door. Actually, first she stopped and purchased several packages of the boxers. They really weren't that bad, and she still needed a present for Nick. Also she had promised her husband Brian a souvenir from Toronto and they really did live on Holstein Ave. Kathy arrived back at the loft and raced up the stairs, too impatient to wait for the elevator. Several of the Knighties had arrived back from their various endeavors. The looks on their faces told her everything she needed to know. Someone had gotten into the loft! "What happened?" several Knighties yelled at once. "You were supposed to stay here, keep an eye on the place." Kathy tried to explain about the cherry boxers, but her words rang hollow, even to her. She had let the team down. "Is anything missing?" she asked, hoping against hope. "Nick's motorcycle is gone." Maria said gently. Suze stood at Nick's desk looking through his papers. "His new platinum credit card seems to be gone too. There seems to be less mail here than there was yesterday." "Look!" someone yelled. "A note." "Dear Nick. IOU one small, black, oriental figurine,-uncursed-" Affectionately, Loose Cannon The Black Buddha. I thought he had gotten rid of that. The Knighties dissolved into a discussion of the merits of the season opener. The words "dream sequence" and "memory" figured prominently. On the other side of the room Kathy hung her head in shame. Then out of the corner of her eye she noticed a small yellow slip of paper. She picked it up. It was a credit card receipt from a Toronto hotel. Dropped, unnoticed perhaps while it's owner scrambled for something. The name on the slip was. Gehirn Karies! So it was Karies. Kathy had had dealings with this particular Cousin before. Kathy's eyes slitted with a steely resolve. She had planned to lurk through this, her first war. But now this was personal. And she knew just what it was she would do. ********************************************************************* A CERK Jerk Fiddles With Fate (1/1) Leslie GrantSmith (LoosCanN@aol.com) Time: Shortly after sundown, Wednesday July 31st After: A Farce in Three Acts Leslie watched in silence, eyelids at a bleary half-mast, as Karies stumbled around the motel room feeding her yowling cats. Fuzzy orange bullies. Something nagged at her, something she needed to do before she could rest. She sagged onto one of the beds, her bulkier than usual fanny pack (which she wore as a sporran), catching her in the gut. Ah! That was it. She waited until Karies, mumbling a Good Frolicking Night, collapsed on the other bed, fully clothed. Then she pulled the little black statuette from her pouch and sitting on the edge of the bed, set the little fellow on the seat of Vachon's motorcycle. Reaching deeper into her pack, she pulled out a strand of slender silk cord, hardly thicker than a thread. Taking a deep breath, she reached into herself, and made a loop in white cord. She placed this around the neck of the little cross-legged figure and tightened it. Focusing her mind, she formed a little thought-form, one made of an appeal for protection and containment. She tied the image into a knot of the silk cord. Thirty-nine times she shaped the protective seal, thirty-nine times she made a knot. When she was done, she sighed and relaxed. Reaching out she straightened the little cord around the figures neck. It made a rather jaunty little tie, actually. Leslie was under no illusions that she could remove the curse from the dark object, but she could contain any ill effects of its psychic malaise, the depressing aura of energy it projected. Unless someone actually used it to make a wish. Which she had no intention of doing. Yawning, she dropped the little figurine into the saddle bag of Vachon's bike. So long as the cord remained around its neck, its unhealthy taint would be contained. Gaping hugely again, she collapsed back on the bed and fell asleep, her snores blending harmoniously with Karies'. ********************************************************************* COWS: Udderly Revenge (3/5) Author: Cherri L. Munoz aka Cousin Cherri Date: Wednesday, July 31 Time: 11:00 pm Place: At Vachon's Church -------------------------- Cousin Rebecca held the binoculars on Vachon's church looking for activity. Suddenly, the door opened and two of the Vaqueras with brooms started to shoo the geese away while the others escaped past the gates. When all the Vaqueras where out of the church, the two with the brooms backed out until they too were out on the street. They safely stored the brooms under one of the vans then ran to catch up with their faction members. "Perfect!" Cousin Rebecca whispered to Cousins Will, Mary, Starr, and Denise. "They're gone! Cousin Cherri told us they'd leave the vans and use the Metro to get to CERK. I understand they plan to walk back to the church with Vachon in the middle of their crowd." Cousin Denise laughed as she rubbed her hands together. "Time for action. The General has only released me long enough to help with this raid then I gotta get back to...I gotta get back. Cousin Will... Cousin Mary...go get the temporary fence. Cousin Rebecca and Cousin Starr will handle the geese. OK, everyone. I see that you have your Environmental suits on. After all, they have sophisticated surveillance equipment and we wouldn't want to be recognized, would we? Good. Then let's move out!" "What about you, Cousin Denise?" Cousin Mary asked. "Why aren't you going to help us do this dirty job?" Cousin Denise straightened to her 5'4" stature and faced the recalcitrant Cousin who faced her. "Because..." she said, with a grimace on her face. "The General put me in charge of this operation until Cousin Cherri gets back from her project. He said that my ruthlessness would assure the success of this venture. Any more questions?" "Uhh...uuuh...no." Cousin Mary sneered. She obviously didn't like it but she wasn't about to say more. If Cousin Denise had talked to the General and Cousin Cherri was to be part of the raid then this was one Cousin she didn't want to cross. Who knew what the ruthless one would say to either Cousin Cherri or the General? In her best drill sergeant voice, Cousin Denise barked, "GOOD! Now do it." All the Cousins jumped. Rebecca and Starr used the umbrellas left by the Vaqueras to shoo the geese out of the way while Mary and Will began to install the temporary fence on both sides of the walkway. It took a bit since they were slipping and sliding all over the place from the geese goop and also because they occasionally had to dodge stray geese trying to take a bite out of crime, however, on short order, the fence was installed and the borrowed brooms were replaced. When they returned, Cousin Denise looked pleased. "Phase one is complete. Let's pull back and wait! It won't be long until Cousin Cherri gets here." ********************************************************************* COWS: Udderly Revenge (4/5) Author: Cherri L. Munoz aka Cousin Cherri Date: Wednesday, July 31 Time: 11:00 pm Place: CERK HQ ---------------- Cousin Cherri was in the CERK HQ lobby waiting for the long-haired vampire to arrive. At exactly 11 pm, Vachon walked through the door. "Vachon. So good of you to come." She indicated the door. "Follow me." As the two of them passed through the halls, several Cousins appeared and disappeared obviously trying to catch a glimpse of the cute vampire. Cousin Cherri smirked. //Let'em look. They're just jealous.// Finally, they came to an unmarked door which Cherri opened and indicated for Vachon to enter. "Now, look..." he started to say. "No! You look, Vachon. I had to be in the cow costume since last November! The Vaqueras have been teasing me and mooing at me the whole time. When LaCroix found out, I was almost lunch but then he decided to make the Cow the CERK mascot so that all of Toronto could join the Vaqueras in their favorite pastime AND I've heard that the rest of Canada knows as well. So don't even try to talk yourself out of this because it **won't** work." He just sighed in resignation. "If it's anything to you, I'm sorry for what you have gone through." Vachon scratched his forehead in thought. "Yea. OK." He nodded. "Let's do it." Cherri went to the closet and pulled out the costume. "You know...you should be grateful. I'm not a morning person." Vachon laughed. "Neither am I." "Yea..well. This morning, I was at the dry cleaners at 7 am. The cow costume was properly cleaned for the first time since Dona Torrey put it on me." Unzipping the costume, Cousin Cherri looked at it then at the vampire. "You know, Vachon, you are going to look even more ridiculous than I did. After all, you are quite a bit taller than I am." She grinned. Vachon rolled his eyes and groaned. "OK, give it to me and I'll put it on." "That wasn't part of the deal and you know it. **I** get to put it on you. Take off your shoes then come here," Cherri demanded. Once he was standing in sock feet, she kneeled down, and opened the right leg. "Step here." Vachon hesitated. "Fine. I'll call LaCroix." Cherri started to get up. "Uh...no." He stepped over to her. "Mind if I use your shoulder to steady myself?" "Not at all." Cousin Cherri looked up to admire the view of Vachon's face as he lifted his leg then slid it home. Judging how short the costume leg would be on Vachon, she pushed the leg slightly past the position she felt it should be on the vampire's then gathered up the left leg. "Next?" she said. When both legs were in the position Cherri wanted, she moved behind the vampire and began to lift the costume in position over his hips. Coming around to the front, she pulled the udder piece into position. "Please hold this..." she asked him. "...so that I can zip it up." Using one hand to hold the costume leg and the other for the zipper, she was able to get it closed without great difficulty. She repeated her efforts for the other side. Cherri held out each sleeve in turn for Vachon to put his arm through. When he moved to pull his hair out of the back of the costume, she slapped his hand away. "What the h...? Why'd you do that for?" "Vachon, I love long hair. I get to play with it so hands off." She gently pulled the tresses out, straightened the cow costume the way she wanted it, then stroked the hair until it was smooth. "It's slightly shorter than I remember it, Vachon. What happened?" He turned to face her. "Two days ago, Mercenary Cousin Lisa drugged me and cut my hair. Normally..." he looked to one side as he smacked his lips, "...a vampire will regrow his hair overnight, but mine is so long that to truly get it to its original length, it takes three nights. Soooo." "Dona Cherri," he said as he caressed her face. "It will be full length in the morning." "Full length in..." she began to repeat. Suddenly, she shook her head. "Don't try that again. You are NOT the General. You are not LaCroix. I am a Cousin and you and the rest of your Vaqueros should remember that." Cherri then tugged the front of the costume into position and slid the zipper up. After she flipped the hood over his head, she pulled out the ears to their correct position. Zipping it up all the way to his chin, she once again kneeled down to readjusted the pants' legs which missed being full length by at least three inches. "And now, the part I've been waiting for." Cousin Cherri grinned wickedly as she slipped the mooing device around his ankle and strapped it in position. "There. You are ready for the next part of the deal." Putting his hands on his hips, Vachon asked, "What if I gave you something you would like in exchange for not taking my picture?" Cherri stopped, thought about it, then the Cousinly part of her took over so she had to ask. "What do you have to offer?" A leer came to his eyes, "I can give you immortality. You would like that, wouldn't you?" Once again she shook her head. "Vaaaa..chooonnn!!! Stop that! I'll do what I must but when I get brought across, I choose LaCroix for he is much older and more powerful than you. **I** will wait for him." "Then, I offer a kiss and a bit of luck." He leaned over and kissed her cheek. "For you may need it while you remain with LaCroix." "Right." Cherri said sarcastically. "Sit down and put your feet out so I can put your shoes on." Vachon bent down, "I can do..." The udder udderly stopped him. "Uhh... right. I'll sit down while you put my shoes on." Cherri laughed, "Now you can feel a little of what I have been going through since last November. You know, people get tired of putting on your shoes for you ALL the time. There... that does it. Now let's go," she said then pushed him out the door and back down the hall. The familiar mooing sound echoed as he walked but this time the mooing had a slightly different pace because of Vachon's longer stride. Music to Cousin Cherri's ears. At last, she was not the one making the noise. When Cousin Cherri opened the CERK doors to push Vachon out, she had to quickly fake annoyance and outrage for all the Vaqueras who were waiting at the door. "You...you organized this," she accused Torrey and Sherri. Sherri tried to look innocent but failed miserably. "I...we...just dropped by to see how Vachon was doing. Is he ready?" "He's ready but the Vaqueras coming here were NOT part of the deal!!!" Cousin Cherri bellowed. Sherri smirked, "Yes, well you never said that he had to walk alone and we Vaqueras decided it would be fun to walk with him so here we are." Cousin Cherri schooled her face to look perplexed then grabbed Vachon by the arm to present the vampire to the group. "Here's your vampire," she growled. "Take him and go." Torrey and Sherri approached him cautiously. Vachon nodded his gratitude that the Vaqueras had come to his rescue. He shrugged then took the first step to his freedom. "Moo," the device uddered. "Ooooohhhh," the Vaqueras cried out. "Moo...moo...moo..." Vachon's steps repeated. The satisfied look on Cousin Cherri's face as the crowd walked down the street suddenly turned sour when one of the Vaqueras started mooing with the device. Realizing that they could cover the noise by making their own, the crowd all started mooing. Cousin Cherri was furious since THAT wasn't part of the plan. Wrinkling an eyebrow, she decided that the Vaquera leaders would have to be dealt with a little more firmly than she had originally decided on. //Time for action.// she thought then calmly closed the CERK door behind her before sprinting for LaCroix' private office. After she gently knocked at his door, she entered upon his beckoning. "I see you're ready, my dear." LaCroix observed. He opened a window, then picked her up as she put her arms around his neck. "Don't worry, LaCroix." Cherri assured him. "It'll take the Vaqueras at least an hour to get back to the church. My team should be ready and waiting for me. We'll have plenty of time to do the job and get out. Thank you for flying me there." "It is my pleasure, Cherri." LaCroix' silkened voice reminded her of why she was a Cousin. "Now hold on tight." Cherri laid her head on his shoulder and looked over the Toronto nightscape as LaCroix flew to the church. The air gliding over her sent chill bumps to her skin. Almost before it had started, the trip had ended. LaCroix landed next to the team's van, gave Cherri a kiss on the cheek, said, "I await your return," then flew away. ********************************************************************* Anywhere Else It Would be Impossible When: Wednesday 7/31 Shortly after 11pm. Where: Four Seasons Hotel, a Variety store parking lot, the 96th precinct By: Larissa Field -- Perkulator (Special thanks to Partly) After ten minutes of rummaging through all of her belongings, Larissa gave up. She went into the main room of the suite where various Perks were lounging around contemplating what they were going to do with Jamie. The only time she had become lucid enough to admit she *was* Jamie, she insisted she was a Merc. As Partly said, maybe all this leaping from faction to faction had swiss-cheesed her brain. She started to look through the main room in case she might have misplaced the tin. "What in the world are you looking for, Larissa?" Kristina asked, obviously puzzled. Larissa stopped looking. "I'm trying to find the tin of hot chocolate that I brought with me, but it seems to have disappeared." Kristina smiled. "You really are addicted to that stuff, aren't you. And you can stop looking 'cause you finished it off this morning." "I couldn't have." Larissa thought a moment before she continued. I guess I must of. I'm going out to get some more. Does anybody need anything while I'm out?" Larissa asked as she grabbed the keys for the car. "Where are you going to find hot chocolate at this time of night?" Frederic asked. "There's gotta be an all-night Variety store that sells hot chocolate around somewhere," replied Larissa. "So does anyone need anything?" Several Perks shouted out various items that they wanted and after a few minutes of sorting everything out and making sure she hadn't forgotten anything, Larissa headed out. She had to make several stops in order to get what everyone wanted, but she didn't mind. Larissa liked Toronto, especially at night. And she didn't get many chances to visit the city even though she basically lived next door. In fact, one of the very few times she had been in Toronto this year was for Tracy's--for the funeral. As Larissa was loading her bags into the car, someone called her name. She spun around to see Captain Reese standing there. "Oh, hi Captain. You really shouldn't sneak up on people like that. You startled me." "Sorry about that," he replied. I noticed you walking to your car and I thought I'd come and say hi. What are you doing in Toronto anyway? I thought you didn't come here often." "I don't. However a few of Tracy's friends who couldn't make it down to the funeral decided to get together so they could pay their respects. I was invited." At the mention of Tracy's name, Reese lost the smile on his face. At the same time, Larissa thought about the autopsy report and what the funeral director said. Reese's words interrupted her thoughts. "That reminds me, I 've got this picture of Tracy's back at the station that Commissioner Vetter wanted you to have. If you've got the time you could come pick it up." Larissa blinked. "I only talked to Commissioner Vetter for a second. Why would he want *me* to have something of hers?" "I guess you made a good impression on him, I dunno. But he wanted you to have it. Can you pick it up now?" "Yeah, I guess I can. I've finished all I have to do." ***** At the precinct, Reese led Larissa into his office and immediately went to get the picture out of a drawer in his desk. As Larissa walked in to the office, she noticed a small pile of items in evidence bags sitting on Reese's desk. Before Reese could get the picture, a uniform knocked on the open door and mumbled something to Reese about a problem downstairs. Reese told Larissa to have a seat while he took care of the problem and left, closing the door behind him. As Larissa sat down, one of the pieces of evidence caught her eye. She pulled a plastic-wrapped brown book out of the pile. she thought as she turned it over. And sure enough, the initials 'NK' were on the cover. Larissa quickly slipped the book into the backpack she had brought into the station. Soon after, Reese returned, went over to his desk, and retrieved the picture. He gave it to Larissa and said, "I'd like to chat, but there's sort of a crisis developing..." "Oh, that's alright. I've gotta go anyway." And with that she left with both the picture and the little brown book in tow. ***** Larissa was looking at the picture as she walked out of the precinct. And since she wasn't paying attention to where she was going, she almost walked into a woman coming from the other direction. "Oh, sorry--" Larissa started as she glanced up at the slight, blond haired woman in front of her. "Tracy?!" The woman looked at Larissa and then pulled down on the picture the picture she was holding so she could get a look at it. She smiled and looked back up at Larissa. She looked as though she would say something, but then turned and walked away, very quickly, down the street. "Tracy! Wait!" Larissa called as she went after her. The woman disappeared around the corner and by the time Larissa got there, she was nowhere to be found. ***** Larissa entered the suite carrying several shopping bags containing the things she picked up while she was out. Everyone looked up at her as she came into the room but she didn't seem to notice any of them. "Larissa, are you okay?" Frederic asked as he went over towards her. "You look like you've seen a ghost." After a moment, Larissa responded. "No, not a ghost. I saw Tracy." "What??" Kristina was at Larissa's side instantly. No one was sure what to say next. Kristina and Frederic led Larissa over to the couch, the bags forgotten. "Tell us what happened," Kristina told Larissa as they sat down. Larissa took a deep breath and told all her new friends what happened. "...I tried to follow her but she turned a corner and by the time I got there she was just...gone," she finished up as she gave Partly the book and the picture. "You're sure it was Tracy?" Frederic asked even though he knew what Larissa would say. "Uh-huh. It was her. She was right in front of me, there's no way it could have been any one else." Larissa felt the shock starting to wear off. "Okay, from now on everyone should keep their eyes open for Tracy," Partly told the Perks and then added, "if it is really her. I mean how could Tracy have survived the injuries she sustained on that awful night?" "Anywhere else and I'd say it would be impossible." Kristina said. "But maybe her father carted her off somewhere to get special help. Maybe she was brought across. Maybe the bullet hit Nick first and then Tracy, giving her some of his healing powers." She looked at the Perks and shrugged. "I mean we're dealing with a whole different set of rules here aren't we?" The Perks slowly nodded, finding it hard to argue with that. A whole different set of rules. And rules that seemed to change from situation to situation. Like the continuity on a seventy's TV show. ********************************************************************* Miki's Hideaway (2/2) by Jane Credland with Cynthia Hoffman Date: Wednesday, July 31, 1996 (11:30 pm) Consecutive to Miki's Hideaway (1/2) Place: Downtown Toronto The five Raven/ettes wandered up and down Queen Street West, diving into every bar and night club they passed. Most of the time, they only stayed long enough to inquire wit the bartender about Miklos ... and for Felicia to get another champagne cocktail. "Jane! Come on!" Tami shouted across the street. "We're here to check out bars, not bookstores." With one last longing look at the books in the window of Bakka, Jane dove across the street and rejoined her friends. "Couldn't we just go in for five minutes? Please? I haven't bought a book in over a month. I'm in withdrawal." Tami ignored the pathetic whining tone of voice, and grabbed Jane by the arm. Using the experience built up in seven years of dealing with Jessica's manipulations, she said firmly, "maybe later ... if you're good. We still haven't been into the Velvet Underground." "I'll be good. I promise." Almost running to keep pace with her taller friend, Jane cajoled, "They have the best selection of young adult fantasy novels. We could buy something for Jess." "They'll be closed by the time we're finished." "No. I checked." Jane grinned -- she was winning. "Summer hours. Bakka stays open later this time of year to take advantage of the crowds that come down here to sit outside and people watch. Please?" "Okay. So long as you can get the others to agree." They stopped at the entrance to Velvet Underground, catching sight of Felicia, Lana and Chanda's backs as they disappeared into the crowds. Eager to get in and out fast -- and get to Bakka before it closed -- Jane hauled Tami in the direction of the bar. "Let me do this one." "Okay. I'm going to check on Felicia. I don't trust Lana and Chanda to stop her from getting another drink." Tami sighed. "I'm glad I'm not sharing a room with her. She's gonna regret all those champagne cocktails later." Three attempts to get the bartender's attention by waving failed. //Time to get serious,// Jane thought to herself. She studied the guy for a few moments. It was a guy, right? Skinny as a rake, he had long silver and black hair, with an abstract tattoo in the shaved patch over his left ear. He wore truly adrogynous punk clothing: black leather vest, cropped and ripped black t-shirt, black jeans ... with chains, rings and pins scattered everywhere including his nose, lips, tongue and ... Jane shuddered. She didn't want to think about *that*. This time, as he passed by on the way to serve someone else, she reached out and grabbed one of the chains dangling from his vest. "What the f**k?" His snarl would have been impressive if Jane hadn't been hanging around vampires for so long. "So that's what it takes to get service around here." Jane sneered -- this was not a situation that called for smiles or dimples (of course, she didn't have any dimples, but that's not the point). "I'd like a drink and some information." "I'm busy. You'll have to wait." "Now. Or I'll rip this chain off and start on one that's attached to something more permanent." Crossing her mental fingers, Jane hoped that the guy couldn't see her shaking knees. "Fine. Whatever. Just leggo, alright." "I don't think so. What's to stop you heading off and not coming back. I'll let go when I get what I want, okay." "So what do you want?" "I told you ... information and a drink. Let's start with the information." Jane pulled a little harder on the chain and the bartender came closer. "I'm looking for a guy called Miklos. He might be using another name though." She launched into the spiel they'd perfected over the night. Rubbing his nose with the back of his hand, and crossing his eyes with the effort of thinking, the bartender was silent for a couple of minutes. "Nah. Never seen anyone like that in here. I'd remember him for sure. He sounds like just my type." //Why aren't I surprised? Damn it. This is a waste of time.// Jane flung the chain back at him in frustration. She'd had enough for one night. In fact, for the first time in her life, she was getting queasy at the idea of drinking yet another diet coke. "You know. There's this guy..." He started. "What guy?" Jane snapped, barely able to restrain herself from reaching over the bar (well, it was made a lot easier by the fact that she wasn't tall enough for that). "I dunno... maybe..." //Money. He wants money. So damn predictable.// Jane reached into her pocket and pulled out a bunch of $20 bills. "Here. Will this jog your memory?" "Yeah. Now I remember." The money disappeared faster than Jane's eyes could follow. "There's a guy like that at the bookstore down the street. You know, the one that sells those weird books about space and guys with swords and stuff. Science fiction. I saw him outside earlier tonight when I was having a smoke. He was almost gorgeous enough to make me want to go into the store myself." "Thanks." Jane flung the words over her shoulder as she disappeared into the throng. There was only one store fitting that description on Queen Street West: Bakka. And now, no-one could stop her from going there. *** "You promised." Jane led the Raven/ettes down the street. "You said that I could go there after Velvet Underground." "Whee!" Felicia spun around on the sidewalk, staring up at the sky. "Did you know that the stars whirl around at night? "Someone help me." Tami took hold of one of Felicia's arms, wondering what had gotten into her friend. She'd never seen Felicia like this. In fact, she was sure Felicia had told her that she didn't like the taste of alcohol. "How many drinks did she have tonight anyway?" "I don't know. We lost track of her a few times." Lana seized Felicia's other arm. Chanda played nervously with her braid. "Can't you come back to the bookstore tomorrow? I think we should get Felicia back to the Raven as soon as possible." "No. It has to be tonight." Jane grinned, wondering how they were going to react when they discovered exactly why she was insisting on going there. She dismissed the momentary spasm of guilt at not telling them what she'd learned. After all, they'd know soon enough. "We're too late." Chanda pointed at the door. "The guy's just locking up." Before Jane could react, Felicia squealed, "Mikiiiiiiii!!!" and flung herself at the door to Bakka. "Miki, come back to us. We want you." Miklos stared in horror at the woman plastering herself against the other side of the glass. He remembered the last time she had been in Toronto. They called it a war. He called it something to avoid if at all possible. All those mortals (what did they call themselves again?) going out of their way to get close to him ... and Janette wouldn't let him drink from any of them. Shaking his head, Miklos snapped the lock closed decisively and turned off the lights. He stood in darkness until the woman's companions peeled her off the door, still moaning his name, and took off into the night. He wished he could convince himself that they wouldn't be back. The Raven/ettes stumbled to a halt just around the corner from Bakka. Jane and Tami held on to the weeping Felicia. "I hope she doesn't remember this tomorrow." Tami said, stroking the back of Felicia's hair. "It wasn't that bad." Jane shrugged. "There was a time when I would have done the same thing. He *is* incredibly good looking." "Should we go back and try to catch him at the back door before he leaves?" Lana asked. Looking at the exhausted and disappointed faces surrounding her, Jane said, "Not tonight. We need to think carefully about how to convince him to return. Obviously, it's not just a matter of showing up and asking him nicely." Chanda looked up and down the street. "Let's just grab a cab then, and head back to the Raven. After all, we know where to find him now. We can come back any time we want." ********************************************************************* COWS: Udderly Revenge (5/5) Author: Cherri L. Munoz aka Cousin Cherri Date: Wednesday, July 31 Time: 11:59 pm Place: Vahon's Church ---------------------- The van door opened as soon as Cousin Cherri gave the secret knock. "Perfect timing." Cousin Denise said as she pulled her in and starting to open the Environmental suit for Cherri to put on. "We've only been in here for a minute." Cherri zipped the suit up to the neck, slipped the slicker boots over her own shoes then secured the head piece in place in under two minutes. "You know what you're supposed to do?" All the Cousins nodded. "Good! Phase Two! Let's move out!" They piled out of the van, ran to the sidewalk, and slid on the goose goop like a SLIPnSLIDE (tm) all the way to the front door. The movement caused the geese to put up a frightening noise but no one was around to hear it so it didn't matter. Ruthless Cousin Denise stepped up to the door, placed putty around the doorknob, ignited it, and stepped back. When the fire completed its circle, Denise kicked the door knob out. The door opened at the same time from the force that she used. All the Cousins quickly spread out to do their assigned job. Each ignored the racket the security systems were emitting. Cousin Mary ran to the choir room. Cousins Will and Starr headed towards the sanctuary. Cousin Rebecca found the stairs to the belfry while Ruthless Cousin Denise and Cousin Cherri descended to the basement. Each one was to look in all the usual and the unusual places where Nick's little brown book might be hidden. No one screamed when they found one. No one talked to exchange ideas. It was done in total silence. No voice print could be recorded and no face could be seen because of the environmental suits. As the allotted ten minute time slot came to a close, the teams started to withdraw. Cousin Cherri passed through several rooms on her way back out when she found a room which looked like a small living area. She started to leave when she spotted a guitar propped up by a guitar stand. Even though no one could see it, she grinned from ear to ear. /Vachon's guitar./ It had to be. Reports said Bonnie shared the basement room with Vachon but a quick, careful look revealed no other guitar or guitar equipment in sight so it HAD to be his. Cousin Cherri was about to grab it and run when she spotted what could be a book which was peeking out from under a candle altar. Sure enough, it was brown. She took her two prizes and fled. Cousin Will arrived at the van first. His environmental suit was obviously already in the plastic bag he was holding out for the others. All the Cousins quickly deposit their own suits in the waiting bag making sure that the last item they removed was their gloves. The gloves were removed by turning them inside out. It took three large trash bags to hold all the suits, boots, gloves, and helmets. When everyone had shed the hot protective gear, the bags were sealed and thrown in the back of the van at which point everyone piled inside. Ruthless Cousin Denise gunned the van when the signal was given. After several blocks of streaking tires, Cousin Cherri calmly said, "You know Denise that if you continue down the road like this every Mountie in Toronto is going to know that we were the ones who broke into the church." Cousin Denise sneered but she did let up on the gas pedal after that. She drove around Toronto but avoided the streets which she thought the Vaquera crowd might be. Finally, she stopped in a back alley near the RAVEN. Cousin Will still had on his gloves so he got out, quickly tossed the bags inside a trash bin, turned his own gloves inside out, tossed those in afterwards, and ran back to the van. Ruthless Cousin Denise didn't quite wait for him to close the door before she took off again, however, the other Cousins pulled him inside and the back door was secured by the time they reached the regular street. "Denise!" Cousin Cherri shouted as the ruthless one turned another corner. "I know...I know," Denise told her team leader as she slowed down again and headed for CERK. "How many books did we find? Do you think the General will be pleased?" "I counted five and yes, I think he'll be pleased especially if we've found the right one." Cousin Cherri told her. Denise glanced over. "What do you have there?" "Heh! Heh! Heh! Vachon's guitar. Would love to be a little mouse to see Vachon's and the Vaqueras' reaction when they find out that it is missing?" Cousin Cherri giggled. Denise turned another corner. "Perfect! Wish I'd found it." "I bet you do." Cousin Cherri then turned to the back of the van. We're here guys. Just remember, you must stay in CERK HQ tonight so that we'll all have a solid alibi. All of you except Cousin Denise, that is. She has her own alibi and has to get back to her assignment right away. I'll make sure that LaCroix knows of your fine performances tonight. While the others got out, Cherri admonished Denise, "Watch your speed. If you get caught, the General will.... you know. Just watch it." Cousin Cherri took the guitar and books, closed the van door, then headed towards LaCroix' office. ********************************************************************* Vachon In Udders? By: Torrey Harris Vaqueros Date: 8-1 Time: 12:30 am ***************** Thank you to Bonnie for the HTML . You go girl! ********************************************************************* He looked bad, it was just that simple. The cow suit was to small the mooer made a lot of noise < not as much as the rest of the Vaqueros, but still....>. It took forever to get back to the church. Once inside the cow suit was quickly striped off. "I don't understand why we needed the cow suit back." Crystal asked "Ugh..I asked Cherri for it back, because I just knew that she would do something bad to us with it. I would have never said OK if I knew that she would put Vachon in it. It's not like we had much of a choice...I for one do not want to be lunch for LaCroix." Torrey said rubbing her head / that darn mooing gave me a headache/. "Hey, where did Bonnie go?" Jay asked as he tried to fold the cow suit up. "I think she's in the other room working on the computers." Sherri answered. "Vachon, listen." Torrey said in a soft voice turning to look at him. " I am so sorry, this happened. I had no idea she would do this." "Huph...well at least it's over." Vachon answered. "Hey! You guys! Come here!" Bonnie yelled from the other room. As a group they all filed into the room to see what she was yelling about. "It's done." She said proudly, the cow suit gave me the inspiration, add a little HTML and poof!" Bonnie was absolutely beaming with pride. Torrey looked at the screen, clicked on a few links, and immediately fell to the floor in a fit of giggles. "What are we going to do with it?" Pat asked Clawing her way back up to the table Torrey started to write a letter addressed to all war participants. **************** We invite you all to come and enjoy our new web site. I am sure that you will all find it insightful and entertaining. "http://users.lanminds.com/~callalily/cherri.html" All good things must not come to a end. Sincerely, Dona Torrey ************************************** Torrey hit the send button, just as a yell came from the basement. Vachon came up the stairs growling. "My guitar is gone." He said in a half whisper half growl "< whimper> Don't worry we will get it back." Torrey answered with her head on the desk. / I think/ she thought to herself. ********************************************************************* Revenge of the Emoticon 2/2 by Kathy Whelton Time: Thurs. 8/1 1-2am Thanks again to Gehirn and Leslie Kathy had the cab stop a block from the hotel. It was cumbersome carrying the large package she held, but it was better than being spotted. She had come alone. Perri and Cath had tried to dissuade her. They said it was too risky a job for a newbie, but Kathy had been determined. Now she was beginning to have second thoughts. What if La Croix were with them? What if they weren't asleep? Kathy pushed the thoughts from her head. She had done difficult things before. She was a working mother. She had toilet trained two small boys. She could do anything! The night manager gave her the room number without too much difficulty. Leave it to Karies to stay in a dump like this thought Kathy as she made her way to the room. Kathy peered in the room. In the darkness she could make out one still form in the bed. Perfect. There was the bike parked next to the bed. Using a credit card Kathy quietly jimmied open the lock. She may be a respectable Labor&Delivery nurse now but she wasn't about to let her teenage years as a juvenile delinquent go to waste. The room reeked of alcohol and stale cigarettes. Nick's bike was there. There were indentations in the carpet next to it, whoever else had been here had taken the second bike and gone out. She could be back at anytime. Quickly Kathy removed the contents of the package she had been carrying. 5 laptops, donated by her fellow Knighties for this project. She set them up quietly and placed a low slung chair in the middle. Karies snored away, oblivious to the movement around her. She really must have tied one on earlier. With some difficulty Kathy managed to hoist Karies into the chair and tie her hands. She was just beginning to wake. UHHHHH Karies eyes flew open. "Kathy, what? What are you doing?" "You'll see soon enough." Kathy dialed a number on the cellular phone she was carrying "Go ahead, start sending." The five screens sprung to life. : ) :( :> :< :-) :-/ :-| :-0 :-c |-( :-# :=) :-% :-'| :-{ :-[ :- { :- } :-D ::-( ::-) :- 6 : -e :-p 8-) 8-( Karies shrieked at the horror of what she was seeing. "Not emoticons, anything but emoticons." "What about the second season tapes I sent you. I introduced you to the UF. Doesn't that count for anything?" Karies hissed at Kathy. "It counts, to a point. But you tricked me into betraying the Knighties. I can't allow that. The barrage of emoticons will continue until you tell me what you were doing in the loft today and return the things you took. And until you tell me who you were with." The high level of alcohol in Karies blood and the onslaught from the screens were taking their toll. "OK, OK." I give. We took the bike. He never uses it anyway. And his platinum credit card. It is in my bag. That and some letters, thats all I swear." "What about the Black Buddha?" "Lesl... I mean Loose Cannon has it, I swear" "Hmmmm Leslie Grant Smith. You feelings for her are strong. Now you have betrayed....". No wait wrong show. "I knew that signature was familiar, we'll deal with her later." Kathy grabbed the credit card from Karies bag. She packed up the 5 laptops. She wasn't about to create another security breech and leave anything behind. Kathy turned just as she was leaving. She tossed a pair of cow print boxers into Karies lap. "Give those to your boss." If she wasn't such a newbie she probably would have noticed the smirk on Karies face. Kathy roared off into the darkness on Nick's bike. ********************************************************************* KEEPING ME ALIVE (01/02) or "The Irresponsible Vaquera vs. That #$%&*, Janette" by Bonnie Pardoe (Vaquero) Thursday, August 1st, ~ 3 am (follows "Vachon in Udders?") Vachon's Church ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ As they were returning to the church from their trek across the city with Vachon dressed it that udderly ridiculous cow costume, Bonnie noticed an bulletin attached to the church's chain-link fence. She stuffed the paper in her back pocket, her mind too fully occupied with thoughts of revenge against "Sweet" Cousin Cherri. \\It will be so simple to add another page to the Vaquero web site! Mahahahaha!\\ Later, once Bonnie was safely tucked away on *her* couch in Vachon's basement, she pulled the flyer out of her pocket and finally read it over: "You are hereby notified that this breach of your deal means you will not receive said crates this week." Bonnie was furious. Yes, she had missed work, \\but this had been an emergency! They can't dock my pay! Vachon needs his blood!\\ There was a red envelope paper-clipped to the notice, which she unceremoniously tore into. She withdrew a folded piece of notepaper which simply said: "Bonnie, under the circumstances, I sincerely hope you stop sharing a room with him. C." "Cynthia!" Bonnie sighed heavily. \\Say, how did she know...? Ah, silly me. This *is* Cynthia -- she know *everything*!\\ Bonnie closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. She had to call the Raven. She had to speak to Janette and try to straighten this out. She grabbed Vachon's cell phone off a nearby crate, then dialed the number for the Raven and asked for Janette. "Ms. DuCharme? This is Bonnie Pardoe. I am *so* sorry about tonight." There was silence on the other end of the line. Bonnie continued, "There was an emergency here and this is the first chance I have had to get to a phone." Still silence. "I'm very sorry for this terrible inconvenience. I swear it will never happen again." "Well..., I suppose it couldn't be help, hmm? If you can make it to work tonight by 10pm, we shall forget the whole thing, no?" "Yes. I'll be there! Don't worry. Does this mean that you're not going to dock my pay after all?" "Don't be silly. You missed a night of work; you must deal with the consequences." "Please, Ms. DuCharme. The blood is not for me, it's for Vachon. Can't we work something out?" "No, my dear, I'm afraid not. You will simply have to take responsibility for your actions. I will expect to see you tonight, Ms. Pardeaux. Adieu." Janette broke the connection. \\Now what do I do?\\ She ran her fingers through her short, curly locks. She was extremely tired and was having trouble concentrating, despite the increase in her blood pressure. \\Maybe I can find another supplier. Yeah! If I can do that then no one will have to know what's happened.\\ Bonnie had taken on the responsibility of supplying Vachon with blood and she wasn't going to let either Torrey or Vachon down. \\They have enough to deal with without adding this to the pile. Besides, it wouldn't be good for morale to have the Vaqueros worrying that Vachon's looks of lust may soon be turning to blood-lust.\\ She knew that to set up a reliable, constant supply of human blood would not be easy. At the moment, she could hardly see straight let alone think straight. \\Sleep. Then I'll figure this out.\\ She slipped out of her tennies, then stripped off her t-shirt and jeans. She pulled on the over-sized white t-shirt she always slept in, then crawled into her make-shift bed on the world's-most-comfortable sofa. Suddenly she thought of Cynthia's note. \\Perhaps it would be wise to sleep elsewhere.\\ She lay still for a moment and listened for the barely audible sounds of the Vaqueros upstairs. \\I'll never get a decent night's sleep if I go up there.\\ She sighed heavily, then thought of the daunting task which lay ahead. \\Screw it, I'm staying. At least for now.\\ Amazing what a little sleep deprivation can do to one's instinct for self-preservation. ********************************************************************* The Cotton Candy Caper (Part 1/?) By: Lisa Prince, Ther Mercenary Cousin with input from Erin, Kira, Dawn & John. Permission from Laura (soulseeker) to use the N&NPackers at this time. Time: Thursday early morning (Takes place before "They Can't Be Monkeys! Where are Their Wings?") Place: Basement, Merc Central, 2:00 a.m. Lisa went searching for John and his Ratpack. According to their plans, he was supposed to meet her in the utility room with Screed and the Ratpack. Ducking into the darkened utility room, Lisa was brought to a rather abrupt halt. The odor in the room brought stinging tears to her eyes. \\Gas masks\\ she thought to herself, \\definitely gas masks.\\ Plastering a smile to her face, she flipped on the light switch. The sight that greeted her was enough to make an average person think that they had stepped into a really bad horror film. There were rats everywhere. They swarmed over the floors and walls. The ceiling was thick with them and there were a few hanging precariously from the light fixture right above Lisa's head. \\Please, by everything Mercenary-like, don't let them pick now to have to go to the bathroom\\ she thought to herself. In the center of the room were two human figures entirely covered by rats except for their faces. John smiled happily at Lisa. Screed walked up to her with his customary wink and grin, and then placed a disgustingly slobbery kiss on her hand. She was thrilled that he had chosen her hand rather than her cheek, or God-forbid, her lips . Lisa shuffled forward, attempting not to squash any of John's little friends. She was a bit of an animal rights fanatic and as such would do just about anything to avoid hurting an animal, even if it happened to be a rat. Reaching John, she said with a smile, "I'm really glad that you both were available to help out." Ya', ahun, yup, yup," John replied with a nod, while Screed said, "Yah, fun for Screedy. Les' go fer i' buby-cacks." Raising an eyebrow just like LaCroix was wont to do in situations like this, she asked John, "You're sure your little friends are going to be able to pull this off." "Definitely," John said. Looking around at the assembled masses, he grabbed Lisa's arm and said, "Here, let me introduce you to everyone." "That's Anthony, Amy, Albert, Alfonzo, Anna, Andrea, Alexander and Alexandra, they're twins, and that Antonio, Addy, Agatha ..." John said in rapid suscesion as he pointed to various little critters. After glancing around at the multitude of rats, Lisa groaned inwardly. \\Please don't let him introduce me to them all by name. Please, please, please, please\\ she thought to herself. Outloud, she asked, "Maybe you could introduce them to me as we go? We've got some people waiting." "Okay," John replied happily and resumed, "that's Barbara, Barry, Bartholomew, Beetlejuice, Bob and Bob and Bob, Bill, Betty, Boopster ..." John kept a running commentary of names going as the trio and the pack walked back to Lisa's quarters. Not wanting to have several thousand rats hanging out in her room, Lisa asked, "Since it's going to be kind of tight in there with all those people, maybe we should have the pack wait in the hall for you." Screed replied, "Righto, matey," and gave her a brotherly punch in the arm. John just kept pointing out and introducing his little rat friends. "Cathy, Christie, Charles, Chucky, Christopher, Callie, Crystal, Chester ..." Lisa could see the Mercs that she had gotten to help with this job waiting for her in front of her door. Picking up the pace of her steps while still avoiding squashing anyone, she rushed to meet them. Hurrying to keep from falling behind, John called out even faster, "Darryl, Doug, Dorothy, Dagmar, Dogbert, Deborah ..." Seeing the group approach, the assembled Mercs edged a little closer together. Erin leaned over to Kira and whispered, "She wasn't kidding when she said you had better not have a problem with rats if you wanted this job." "I thought we were going to be doing something that might require running into a few rats, but this is kind of ridiculous," Kira replied. "Shhhhh," Dawn snapped. "They're going to hear you, and I, personally, would rather not have a couple of thousand rats mad at me." While this conversation was going on, Berg had leaned down to pick up a couple of the little fellows and was talking to them while scratching their ears. Sensing a fellow rat-lover, John latched onto Berg, pointed at the rats in his hand and said, "That's Electra, Egor, and Elton." Beginning to point to the rats surrounding them, he said, "That's Frank, Freda, Francine, Francesca, Fred, Fluffernutter, Farfagnugan, Frankenfurter ..." Unlocking the door, Lisa ushered her guests inside. "John? John! JOHN!!!!" The Ratpacker looked up quickly with a rather blank look on his face and asked, "Wha'?" "Would you and Berg like to join us to go over the plans or would you like me to find another pack of rats to do this job?" she snapped. \\It's two o'clock in the morning, for chrissakes, I don't think I can take much more of this\\ she thought to herself as she turned and headed into the main room of her suite. "Remember," she called over her shoulder, "the little guys need to wait out here." John bent down to talk to his troops for a minute, Berg put down his new found friends and went to join the others. John followed quickly. Walking into the room where the others were waiting, Lisa found Screed discussing the rumbley-tumbley with Kira, Dawn, and Erin. The trio looked decidedly uncomfortable. Kira actually looked as if she was about to toss her cookies. Dawn and Erin were just staring at him as if he were something gross stuck to the bottom of their shoes. Lisa decided to save them all from Screed's running commentary. Biting back a laugh, she said, "Thank you all for being so prompt. I assume everyone knows each other? Just in case, that's Kira, Dawn, Erin, Berg, John, Screed, and the Ratpack is waiting in the hallway. As she turned towards the board were the plans were laid out, a flash of something bright caught her eye. Turning to Erin with frown, she asked, "Are those ... flourscent ... pink ... socks?" Erin flushed bright red and stammered, "Well ... they ... they ... they stole all our socks and by the time I got to the store to get some replacements this was all they had left." "They *stole* your socks?" Lisa asked incredulously. "Why on Earth would someone want to steal your socks? Undies I can understand, but socks? Oh, forget it, I don't think I really want to know." With a sigh Lisa grabbed several packages, one for each Mercenary. After showing everyone proof that payment would be forecoming at the end of the job -- a certificate for discounts on moving expenses for Dawn; a case of Sno-Balls for Erin; a black, long-haired, Lab/Chow puppy safely entrenched in a box for Kira; a gift certificate to the Merc Chocolate Shoppe for Berg; a couple of bottles of rat blood for Screed; and an autographed picture of the KISS guys signed to Kathy for John, his wife really just loved those guys; Lisa got down to the business planned for the night. "Okay," she said, "here's what we're going to do ..." ********************* to be continued in part 2 ********************* ********************************************************************* Night of the Living Emoti-spammed (01/01) By Gehirn Karies and Leslie GrantSmith, Cousins Thursday 8/1, 2:15 AM After "Revenge of the Emoticon (02/02)" ~~The dingy roadside motel~~ Thanks to Mostly Lurkin' Kathy Whelton, Knightie. Karies listened to the sound of Nick's bike rumbling off into the night with some measure of regret. She had known someone would come after it eventually. Leave it to Kathy to be prompt. She would have liked at least one more day with it. After an eye-opening shower, she lit a cigarette and was in deep contemplation of nothing tangible when she heard the sound of her cell phone bleating. "Yo." "Yo ho. Those gals forgot to leave the keys to the Voyager." "Oh, frolic. `Kay, I'll come down to the Raven with the spare as soon as I can nab a cab. Oh, Nick's bike is out of our hands." "That was quick, huh?" "Yeah. Kathy's very energetic, very determined." She chuckled, "And she was peeved." Karies squirmed. "Why'd you leave that note? I didn't like ratting you out. I'd rather of taken the heat myself." "I'll take my own heat, thank you. Nick can have the little guy back whenever he wants him, `cuz I sure don't want him. I just wanted to make sure the thang was ... muffled up. So, what was it?" "Emoticons," Karies replied, smiling wickedly. "Oooh, nasty. She really went for your weak spot, there." "Man o' Man, it was brutal. She had *five* laptops. I was emoti- spammed. I caved." "Dude," Leslie commiserated. "She got everything?" "Yeah, yeah, sure ... everything." And the two Cousins smiled. **** Karies found a cab with astounding ease, and getting in, noticed the cabby looked a bit familiar. Too tired to puzzle it out, she closed her eyes. When the cab pulled over and stopped, she opened her eyes and found herself in front of her apartment. In Massachusetts. The cabby, an authoritative looking Asian woman with shoulder length black hair, got out of the cab and proceeded to enter Karies' building. After staring after her in shock, the Cousin scrambled out of the car and chased the woman up the stairs. She entered her apartment, the door wide open and found herself watching herself sitting on the couch watching Forever Knight. The Loft scene from "The Fix". Over and over again, eventually slipping off the couch to the floor, laughing hysterically. It takes a lot to stop watching yourself, but eventually Karies managed to do so and turned to the cabby, demanding, "What is this? Who are you? What do you want from me?" "I am the ghost of FK past." "That's nice, bye." "Not yet," she said. "Look, your answering machine is blinking. You haven't answered it in days-" "Don't--" Too late, the woman hit the message button and the room was filled with messages from friends and family demanding Karies stop obsessing over that obscure Vampire Cop show and return to reality. Karies' shoulders drooped. She was alone in the FK universe back then, unaware of the alternate reality only an updated computer away. But she was happy, in the midst of the joyous second season episodes. "There are tears in your eyes." "That- that's because the house is ... so clean ... I think I got orange oil in my eye." "Oh yes, you had a cleaning service back then. Now you spend that money on Internet charges, cable TV and fanzines." "So, I'm FKed, what's your point?" "I'll get right to the point, Knight, The IA report came down--" "*What?*" "Uhm ... I had a point, where did I put it?" "Look, Mandy, I'm out of here." The cab screeched to a halt in front of the Raven, jerking Karies from her dream. Shaking her head vigorously to clear it of the images, she paid the cabby and got out. She found Leslie standing outside the front door of the club, hands shoved deep into her front pockets, her lips curled in a bemused smile as she watched the patrons come and go. "Did anybody seem to spot the bike yet?" "Yeah, I think so. Look, Karies, no use letting such a good parking space go to waste." "You're always thinking." They walked by Vachon's bike, the faint odor of the handmade paper wafting out of an envelope attached to the handlebars.... Leslie was so good at writing apologies. ~~~~~Flashback~~~~~~~~ The dingy motel, just after 12:15 AM. Thurs. "Okay, thanks guys. Huh? No! Don't even think of cleaning out my car." Karies snapped her phone shut. "So we agree, we'll leave Vachon's bike at the Raven?" "Mmmh," Karies agreed scoffing down some cappuccino. "With confirmation that he really is alive, we're better off without it. Nick is a piece of cake. Vachon could, like, get too close to us. Eeeew, I'm skeeving just thinking about that furry little guy." "Hmmmn, I wonder if he looked any better with short hair?" Leslie's eyes glazed over momentarily, glancing past her sugar glazed honey bun. Karies shook her head in disgust. "Where's that lovely handmade paper we made, Karies? I want to write a nice letter of apology." ~~~~~~~~~~~~end o' flashback. A couple warped hours later the two Cousins slid out of the Raven and stood on the sidewalk studying each other with drunkenly intense concentration. "I'm Ger-Camming," Karies declared, "and you look like you've got Divia Vision. We better leave the Voyager and take a cab back to the motel." "Mmmmpht." The Cousins piled in the cab and it blasted off before Karies noticed the reeking odor of souvlaki. The driver looked very familiar ... that green shirt ... that tie.... "Oh no ... not again. I didn't even have a TAB and vodka. I thought that whole movie was a result of TAB and vodka induced hallucination." The cab screeched to a halt in front of Nick's Loft. It was mostly dark, something shifted, and the two Cousins found themselves in the Loft right in the thick of it, as LaCroix, delusional, muttered about peaches and jewels. Obviously his mind was not on the problem at hand. He was closer to the realms where the two Cousins' minds tended to dwell. Leslie stood silent, rocking gently, face set and stunned. "I can't watch this, Schanke," Karies protested. "I can't see him kill Nickie." Suddenly their little corner of the loft grew dark, as they were surrounded by cassettes of every movie ever mentioned in Nick and Nat fan fiction. The tapes spilled from their cases and hung down like slithering vinyl curtains. Whirling and filling the corner with a sickening sense of platonic love. The ghost picked up Nick's microwave, opened the door and endless popcorn rained over the Cousins. "What the $#@&?" "Repeat after me," the ghost started. "It can't end like this. The ending is ambiguous. Nick wins, you see, he wins!" Karies snickered. "Androgynous? Who?" Leslie asked, flicking a piece of popcorn out of her ear, looking totally confused. Karies fell to her knees laughing. Coming to when the cab stopped, Karies swore, "I'm not taking any more cabs in Toronto, I'm not going off with the ghost of FK future, I won't be thrown into that endless void, that empty box, I won't watch my own suicidally ravished body be lowered into the flame in an earthwise cardboard casket, I won't be trapped in the horror of re- runs and bickering and--" "What are you blathering about?" "The cabbies, the GHOSTS. Schanke, Amanda, the ghosts." "The what? Get in, Karies, before those psychotic cats get out. Then Toronto will really be in jeopardy." ********************************************************************* The Cotton Candy Caper (2/3) By: Lisa Prince, The Mercenary Cousin Place: The Merc Van driving down the streets of Toronto. Time: 2:30 a.m., Thursday, August 1st (I think I forgot that on that first post) After briefing everyone on their roles for the night, Lisa had sent Screed and John with the Ratpack. They would travel to the rendevouz point by way of the sewers. There was just no other way to get that many rats to the house without attracting a lot of unwanted attention. She wasn't a modern day Pied Piper afterall. Just like before any job, Lisa's mind went through the details over and over again. She sat in the passenger seat of the van trying desperately to make sure that nothing was forgotten, no important point missed, no requirement of the job undone. Berg drove as quickly as the speed limit would allow. They didn't want to get pulled over for speeding, especially considering the nature of their cargo. Kira, Dawn, and Erin were in the back making sure that all the equipment was in working order and also keeping an eye on the huge pink roll that was strapped to the top of the van. Their eyes were continually drawn to the roll. It was *huge*. They could not imagine that they would actually make it to their destination without attracting police attention. Lisa had assured them that the Toronto P.D. were not going to be concerned with a van that was hauling what appeared to be insulation. Looking over at Lisa, Kira asked, "If you don't mind my asking ... where exactly did you get all of this cotton candy?" Brought back to the present by the question, Lisa looked back at Kira with a wicked grin and said, "You really don't want to know. But, let's just say that there are several establishments in Toronto that are going to be short on refreshments tomorrow." "Ummm," mumbled Dawn, "what's in the tank with the sprinklers?" "*That*," Lisa replied while cackling evilly, "is our secret weapon. It's the latest rage in perfume. Just don't forget to bring your gas masks out there with you." Turning to Berg, she said, "That's it just up ahead. Pull over here." ******************** to be concluded in part 3 ******************** ********************************************************************* The Cotton Candy Caper (3/3) By: Lisa Prince, The Mercenary Cousin Time: Approximately 2:45 a.m., Thursday, August 1st Place: Outside of the house where the Nick&NatPackers are staying The group sitting inside the parked van was getting a little nervous. Being Mercs, they really didn't like to wait, and they had been waiting for at least 5 minutes and there was still no sign of Screed, John, and the Ratpack. "Maybe they got lost," whispered Erin as the minutes continued to tick by. "No," Lisa replied, "they have detailed maps and directions through the sewer to this place. There's no way that they could have gotten lost." \\I hope.\\ Just then, loud, horrific singing erupted from the sewer grate right next to the van. Berg jumped out of the driver's side door, looked down into the sewer grate and shouted, "Shut up! Do you want them to hear you?!?" The women in the van stared at him in annoyance and quite a bit of trepidation. Lisa smacked her hand to her forehead and said in an angst-ridden, whiny voice, "I don't *believe* this. Why don't we just start waving a sign saying, 'Suspicious characters here, please arrest us.'" Meanwhile, Kira had jumped out of the van grabbed Berg, placed a hand over his mouth and yanked him back inside the van. Searching the houses along the street, she turned to Lisa and said, "All clear, no lights flipped on." "Well," Lisa replied, "if these people are anything like my mother, they're standing behind their curtains, peeking through, with the lights off. Let's give it a few minutes." So, at approximately 3:00 a.m., the team slinked quietly out of the van, moved over to the sewer grate and motioned for the rest of their helpers to come up. Lisa thought she heard a mumbled "Abut rumpy-bumpy tim'" float up from the recesses of the sewer as the grate was shoved to the side and John, Screed and the rats poured forth. Going around to the back of the van, Lisa pulled out the headsets which would keep the team in contact with each other through the entire operation. The first thing that Screed wanted to know was whether or not he would get to keep his -- definite pawn shop material. After being assured that he could do whatever he wanted with it as long as the job went off without a hitch, Screed was happily playing with the little device. Lisa shook her head at the child-like glee that Screed exhibited with his new toy and then began pulling long lengths of wire cable and various devices out of the van. Each time she pulled something out, one of the team would come forward grab it, make sure it was in working order, and hook it onto their mercenary uniforms. Because she couldn't get it out all by herself, everyone climbed into the van and worked to get the huge vat of cologne out. Unfortunately, the lid opened slightly as they worked. The inside of the van erupted with coughing and swearing. "Ewwww," Erin groaned "Grossssss," Dawn complained. "*What* is that *smell*?!?" Berg bellowed. Lisa hurried to reseal the lid. Looking around at the assembled party, she said solemnly, "I think now might be a good time to double-check your gas masks." Each put on their mask and then opened the vat and took a deep breath. Since now of them reacted, it was obvious that the masks were working properly. So, they closed up the vat and put their masks away for when they would need them later. While the Mercs were busy doing that, Lisa talked quietly with Screed and John about what she wanted them and the rats to do. Once everyone was rigged up and geared properly, Lisa pointed everyone in the right direction and the team went to work. Kira and Dawn were each sent to a telephone pole -- luckily the house was placed in such a way that there was a telephone pole by each corner of the front yard. Using those funny little things that strapped around the pole and their bodies, each Merc shimmied quickly up to the top of the poles. Meanwhile, Screed picked up Berg and Erin and deposited them on the roof. The pair quickly connected the giant eyehole screws to the edge of the roof with super-quick-drying-cement. Once that was done, they waited. The Mercs on the telephone poles brought out the long length of wire that Lisa had provided for them, they wrapped one end around the top of the poles and secured them, then each gave an end to Screed so that he could run the cable over to the roof of the house where Berg and Erin were waiting. On the ground, John and Lisa were struggling to bring the huge roll of cotton candy over to the yard. Though they tried their best to keep it from getting all over them, by the time they had it positioned in front of the house and ready for Screed to roll out along the wires, they were covered from head to toe in little tufts of cotton candy. Screed had finished carrying the wire to the Mercs on the roof, so he returned to were John and Lisa were waiting with the cotton candy. "Wha' yew wan's me ta da wit' dat agin?" Screed asked. Lisa replied, "Carry it up to the wires, lay it across them like a big bed roll and then unroll it until you hit the roof." Screed grabbed the cotton candy and did as he had been instructed. While he was back by the roof, he grabbed Berg and Erin and deposited them on the sidewalk by Lisa and John. Each carried a small remote control that they would use to detonate a charge that would destroy the clamps holding the wires up and allow the cotton candy to fall onto their prey. Kira and Dawn had climbed down from the poles by this time and were picking pieces of cotton candy off of John and Lisa. Of course, it was extremely sticky stuff, so each time they took a swab of it off, they would have to flick their hands and fingers around trying to get it off of themselves. Unable to restrain herself, Erin reached out and grabbed a puff that was sitting on the end of Lisa's nose. She popped the piece into her mouth. "I just love cotton candy. Yummy," she said with a smile as she closed her eyes and rubbed her tummy. Looking up, Erin realized that Lisa was being restrained by Kira and Dawn. At that point, she decided it might be better if she didn't mention her love of cotton candy for a while. Lisa shook off the restraining Mercs and said, "I'm all right. I'm all right. Now, that N&NPacker guard is obviously snoozing. I was watching her through the night vision goggles and she hasn't moved an inch since we got here. That along with the open book on her lap leads me to believe that she's been reading that sappy garbage poetry these N&NPackers like so much and dozed off. I do believe it's time to wake them up." The group began to cackle wickedly as John loosed his Ratpack. Hearing the alarms start to sound almost immediately, the team of Mercs backed off a bit to watch and wait for the ensuing chaos. Lisa nodded to Dawn who took off at a run along the side of the yard. Lisa watched as Dawn took up a position that would allow her to sneak unnoticed into the front door of the N&NPacker's place when they came running out. ************* Inside of the N&NPackers place, Kelly was running from monitor to monitor screaming, "We're under attack! Alarm! Alarm! We're under attack! Help! Somebody! Help!" Within seconds, a large group of N&NPackers had formed. All were wearing their pajamas and looked extremely unhappy at having been so rudely awakened. Laura stumbled into the room and said, "What, for the love of Nick and Natalie, is going on?" "I don't know," sobbed Kelly, "I was on guard duty just like I was supposed to be and then all of a sudden everything went crazy." Taking a look at the book in Kelly's hand, Laura gave her a stern glare and mumbled sarcastically, "Umhm, I'm sure." "Look!" Idalia said, "the heat and motion sensors are going nuts. There's a bunch of people out there." Then, in a flash, the monitors went dead. "Come on," shouted Tina, "let's check it out! Nobody attacks us and gets away with it." "Yeah," agreed Kris, "they're going to get away! Hurry up!" With that, the N&NPackers raced out the door and into the front yard. **************** While the N&NPackers were being so rudely awakened, John was being placed in a harness that Screed would use to suspend him above the N&NPackers and spray them with the cologne. "Hurry up," Lisa hissed, "we'll only get one chance at this. Everyone, masks on NOW!" Kira and Erin were positively bouncing with glee waiting for the mayhem to begin. They reached for their masks as they bounced. With a huge smile on her face, Erin turned to Lisa and said, "This is great. I would have done this for nothing." Looking shocked, Lisa replied, "Don't say things like that. The Merc Mommy General wouldn't like that." Putting on her gas mask, Lisa turned her attention back to the scene that was about to unfold in front of her. With chagrin, Erin said, "Sorry, I'm still kind of new at all of this," and then put on her gas mask and began rubbing her hands together in anticipation. Just as Screed and John were settled in and rising above the canopy of cotton candy, the N&NPackers exploded out of their front door and onto the lawn. Soon as they cleared the door, Dawn dashed inside. "Now!" Lisa shouted as loudly as possible to Berg and Erin. Trying to make herself heard though the gas masks which had an the annoying side-effect of obscuring voice and hearing. With simultaneous miniature explosions, the cotton candy dropped like a quilt onto the N&NPackers. ****************** "Hey!" said Laura who's voice was muffled by the blanket of pink cotton candy, "who turned out the lights?" All around her, her fellow N&NPackers were thrashing about trying to work their way out from under the two foot thick covering of cotton candy. But, before they had a chance to regroup, Screed and John began pumping out Ode de Screed cologne. The pungent cologne rained over the cotton candy and onto the N&NPackers. The extra liquid caused the candy to melt quicker then it would have otherwise, so before long the N&NPackers were covered in a pink, gooey, smelly mess. ******************** After snapping a few pictures with a Polaroid to give to her boss, Lisa gathered up the laughing, gas-mask protected, Mercs and headed back to the van. Glancing behind her to check for Dawn, Lisa was relieved to see her dashing as quickly as possible over the cotton candy-covered yard while attempting not to step on any of the big pink covered humps that indicated a N&NPacker. Once back in the van and de-masked, Dawn caught her breath enough to ask, "How long does that cologne last?" With a wicked grin that looked entirely too ridiculous considering the fact that she was still fairly well covered in cotton candy, Lisa replied, "Oh, only for around a day or two." Then, Lisa leaned over and whispered to Dawn, "Did you get it?" With a grin, Dawn flashed the little card at Lisa before shoving it back in her pocket. Patting the back of the driver's seat, Lisa said to Berg, "Let's go, we're out of here." As they pulled up to Merc Central and headed inside, the group was still laughing. Those Mercs who were hanging out in the main room wanted to know what was so funny, so the group spent the next hour repeating the story of their job against the N&NPackers to anyone who was interested in listening. In the midst of all the merriment, nobody noticed when Lisa slipped out of the room. She went down into the basement to wait for the arrival of Screed, John, and the Ratpack. She had to make sure that all of her people had made it before she would be willing to relax. She sat there absent-mindedly pulling pieces of cotton candy off of her clothing as she waited. Shortly, John and Screed popped in through the utility room entrance, gave her a wave to indicate that they were fine, and headed for John's room and who only knows what kind of mayhem. Smiling to herself, Lisa let herself into her room and headed straight for the shower. \\Cotton candy is just *not* good for your complexion or your hair.\\ ******************* The end ******************* ********************************************************************* What is This Stuff? 1/3 by Arletta Asbury (g4akl@erols.com) and the N&NPack Thursday August 1/96 2:50am Directly following The Cotton Candy Caper 3/3 "What is it?" Jenn asked. "I don't know," Laura answered, "but it's gooey and smelly and yukky." She shivered in revulsion. But no one could see her shiver because, she like the rest of of them, was just a large pink lump on Susan's lawn. Arletta came to stand in the open doorway of the house. She alone among all the N&NPackers had remained indoors. Her bad back had prevented her from racing outside as fast as the others had done when the alarms had sounded. Because of her handicap, it took her much longer to climb out of bed, or out of her sleeping bag in this case, than the rest of them and because of that fact she stood looking out at an unbelievable sight. "Laura?" Arletta questioned. "Who's that?" Laura answered. "What happened?" "Never mind that! Help us!" "What do you want me to do?" Arletta asked. 'That was a very good question,' thought Laura. 'What could she do about this?' Finally Laura was able to stand up and clear enough of the goo out of her eyes to actually see again. She was almost sorry that she had. The sight was one she wouldn't soon forget. All of the N&NPackers (except for Arletta) were rising to their feet or else just trying to stand while covered with the most digusting goo imaginable. People were stumbling into each other because they couldn't see properly. Mel, her second in command, stumbled over to her side annd said, "What do we do now?" Laura shook her head and said, "I guess we try to clean up." Susan, whose guests they all were, headed for her front door and then stopped. "Wait a minute. We can't go inside now. This stuff would get all over my carpets, the walls, everywhere." "We have to take a shower, NOW! Never mind your carpets. Sheesh!" John remarked. "Hey, they're not YOUR carpets," Susan replied hotly. "Susan's right," Laura said, "but how can we clean up if we can't get to the shower?" Susan thought for a moment then replied, "There's a garden hose out back that's connected to an outside faucet. Maybe if we all rinse off, we'll leave the worst of it outside." "A garden hose connected to an outside faucet? That's COLD water," Kelly whimpered. "I think I'd keep quiet if I was you," warned Idalia ,"Whose fault do you think all of this is, anyway?" "Come on," Susan said and led the way to the back yard and the COLD rinse. "Oh, a hot tub. I'd forgotten about that," Jenn said. "No you don't. This stuff would foul up the inner workings of it. You know the electronics and all the bubble making parts." "She's worried about the bubble making parts!" John said in a disgusted tone of voice. "No stay out of it, all of you. I have a plan and I think we'll need it intact. In fact, John why don't you start emptying it now. "What? Are you nuts?" he asked Laura. "Just do as I say." "Arletta! Where is she? Never around when you need her!" Laura grumbled. "Here I am," Arletta answered from the back doorway. She was trying real hard to surpress the giggles. This was too funny. But she knew if she started she'd never be able to stop. And the rest of them would NEVER speak to her again. "What do you want." "I want you to stop standing around and help! Go inside and find my purse. Take the money from my wallet. ALL of the money. Do the same with Mel's purse and any others that you can see." She turned to Susan and said, "Susan, where are your car keys?" "On the pegboard just inside the back door," she answered wondering where this was leading. Turning back to Arletta, Laura continued, "When you have the money, get the car keys. I want you to go shopping." "Shopping? Now?" "Yes, this smell isn't going to go away with a shower. I think we'll need tomato juice. LOTS of tomato juice." "Tomato juice?" Arletta asked. Then realization dawned. "How much tomato juice?" "As much as you can buy with our money. Enough to fill the hot tub," Laura answered. "But my hot tub!" Susan said. "Be Quiet!" Laura snapped. "Just do as I say, everyone, okay?" "Okay," Arletta said meekly. She was relieved to be away from the smell eminating from her fellow N&NPackers and promply hurried about her assigned task. Laura turned back to Susan. "Where's that garden hose? Let's get started on this." Just then the menagerie of dogs and cats brought by the N&NPackers discovered the door left open by Arletta. They ran happily outside and began sniffing each of them in turn. Not quite sure what to make of the funny smell most of the cats backed off. But the dogs sensed candy and started licking various people. "Ooh, yuk. Get away from me," Kris said to one of the dogs. "Inside," Susan commanded one of the dogs to no avail. Various N&NPackers began dodging the assorted dogs and began running in circles with the dogs chasing them. The dogs would have won but Susan finally turned on the water and began squirting both dogs and people with it. The dogs ran back into the house tracking muddy pawprints all over the floors. Susan screamed and started to run inside again but stopped in time as she realized that the dog's muddy pawprints were cleaner than she was at that moment. John picked up the garden hose that Susan had dropped and held it as each of the N&NPackers, in turn, received a VERY COLD shower from it. Most of them shrieked or screamed as the cold blast of water hit them but a few bore it stoicly in silence. This garden hose shower helped in that most of the excess goo was removed by it. Carrie, who was the first one thru it, headed inside for a hot shower in the bathroom. Mel who had been second thru the garden hose followed her indoors and headed for the second bathroom. Everyone else followed suit. Lining up inside for one or the other of the bathrooms with their blissfully hot showers. What seemed an eternity later, Kevin rapped on the door of the first bathroom and said, "What's taking you so long? Hey we're cold and wet out here and we need a shower too." "Not as cold as you'd be if you'd waited outside and spared my floors any further insult," Susan said looking at the rather large wet pools of liquid growing under each of her guests while standing in line. "Umm. I forgot clothes. Kevin, close your eyes," Kris said. "What? Oh, okay," Kevin said blushing. Kris emerged from the bathroom wrapped in a towel and made a dash for her duffel bag. She wasn't really clean, yet. But she was a lot cleaner than she had been a few minutes ago and couldn't stand around in a towel forever. Kevin was shoved into the bathroom by the next person in line and he too took his turn at the hot shower. When he was ready to emerge he asked the females to close their eyes as he made a mad dash for his suitcase. Actually someone was peeking but Kevin never noticed in his rapid towel wrapped streak past them. * * * About half of the N&NPackers had been thru the showers by the time Arletta returned with a car full of tomato juice in cans. Several of the N&NPackers carried the tomato juice cans over to the hot tub while Arletta went inside to fetch as many can openers as she could find. She returned to the others armed with only two openers. "That's all I could find," she said afraid. 'Everyone looked pretty mad by now. Especially at me. Just because I had remained unscathed everyone blamed their predicament on me,' she thought. Aloud she said, "maybe the neighbors have some I could borrow?" Just then the sound of sirens could be heard approaching. Everyone looked up and saw a police car heading their way. ********************************************************************* Morde de Lisa (part 1) Written by Heather Parks With Lisa McDavid, and some anonymous cousins. Thursday 3 am. New Cousin HQ Lisa got herself a Zombie Beachcombers and sat down at a computer. She had barely opened the copy of Netscape when the drink took effect. "What did you put in that thing," Cousin One asked Cousin Two. "Does it matter? she's asleep isn't she," Cousin Two replied "She appears to be." "Well get her off the keyboard so I can work." Thurs 3:30 am South Carolina Airforce base. "We an unauthorized login on carolina.af.mi, Sir." That's when the trouble started. Thurs 3:45 am The US military called the Canadian government after tracing the computer and login to lisa-mcdavid@cerk.com. The ip address was registered to a Toronto radio station. Thurs 4:01 am Stone tree got a call asking them to pick up the user on cerk who was still using the computer cerk. Thurs 4:30 am, Cerk Lisa woke-up for a brief second to see the computer prompt. carolina.af.mi[4:22]> Stonetree asked her name and hand-cuffed her. That was the beginning of Lisa's bad weekend. contintued in part 2 +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ I've read too much clancy this week. ********************************************************************* Morde de Lisa (part 2) Written by Heather Parks With Lisa McDavid, Stonetree and some anonymous cousins. Thursday 11 a.m. on way to Interrogation room. Lisa's head was just starting to clear when she was lead to the interrogation room. "Gee, she only had one. I'm too young to be having liver problems." Stonetree was unhappy. "I wish I could say it was good to see you again, Lisa." Lisa tried to look a mixture of calm and sorry for whatever it was they thought she had done. "Me too." "What happened? You promised me that you'd keep the cousins inline. Well, at least out of my hair for the game if I'd let you go. Well, here we are. You broke into a US military computer... " "What," Lisa's head popped up, "listen, I was too drunk last night to break into any computer. I couldn't even do that when I was sober." After seeing her last night Stonetree was tempted to believed her. "Here's some aspirin," looking into Lisa's blood shoot eyes, "You'll going to need it. The US government asked us to hold you till they can pick you up, Monday." "What?" Lisa was dumb founded. "Sorry." Was Stonetree's only response. Thurs. 1 p.m. Cell Who could do this? Lots of people would have but very few people could have. She had called LaCroix but he wouldn't help her. She wanted a drink and some more aspirin. "Damn it," she slammed her hand against the sink. Which did her hand little good. "Your in luck, someone brought you dinner." Sgt. Cobb handed her a sliver plate. "Here." Lisa opened it to find cold lobster, butter sauce, and a little note. Lisa screamed, "Who, Who WHOOOOOOOOOOO!." continued in part three. ********************************************************************* Morde de Lisa (part 3) Written by Heather Parks With Lisa McDavid, Heather Parks, Candice Thurday 10 p. m. It was a slow night at the precinct, most everyone had gone home. The cells were empty except for Lisa's, of course. There was a guard, who fell in and out of conscienceness, guarding her, but he wouldn't talk to her, so she was all alone. Lisa had settled down since this afternoon. She didn't know what had happened, it really didn't seem real. It didn't seem her. She still wasn't thinking clearly the mist came and left at it's own will. Sgt. Cobb couldn't tell her who delivered the Lobster. All she could say was a girl about 20 with reddish hair. Lisa wish she knew what the lobster meant. The guarded started snoring. That's when it happened All Lisa saw was a black glove throw the purple plush toy just out of reach of the cell. The doll started singing. "I love you, you love me...." Over and Over again. When the guard awake at 1 a.m. Friday morning. He heard Lisa's Screams. He called Stronetree and the psych department at the hospital. They looked at poor Lisa and brought her to the hospital for a three-six hour evaluation. Sat. 1 p.m. Toronto County General Hospital Psych Ward "Dr. Chamberlain, do you think see is competent enough for the US to pick her up." "Nope, maybe by Monday but no guarantees." Sat 1 p.m. Cerk HQ "Heather, what did you put in her drink." Candice was screaming at her. "Nothing that would cause her to go crazy like that," Heather tried to sound more confident that she felt. ********************************************************************* What is This Stuff? 2/3 by Arletta Asbury (g4akl@erols.com)and the N&NPack Thursday August 1st 3:20am "Just be grateful the cops had a sense of humor," Laura said. "My neighbors," Susan said shaking her head. "Who would've thought that they'd call the cops just because they heard all that noise coming from my back yard." "Never mind," said Mel. "Just keep opening the cans." "I wonder how they'll write up their report," said Arletta who was standing as far away from her fellow N&NPackers as she could decently manage. Even outdoors and after their showers, the smell coming from the others was still overwhelming. "They did seem to enjoy the thought of a hot tub full of tomato juice," Arletta said, suppressing a giggle. The others just glared at her as they continued opening cans and pouring the contents into the hot tub. It was agonizingly slow with only two can openers. The idea of borrowing any others had been nixed by the cops who'd said leave the neighbors out of this. Aparently, they'd more than likely call the police in again if any one of Susan's guests approached them. They were already uncomfortable with the thought of her having so many house guests. But all that screaming and shrieking had totally freaked out the neighbors. And the N&NPackers were still....rather smelly....with a few traces of goo here and there. They were definately NOT the sort of visitors that Susan's neighbors would appreciate right now. Arletta had volunteered to go back to the store for more can openers but Laura had vetoed that idea, reasoning that they'd be finished opening the cans just about the time that she would return with more openers. Everyone had finished with their showers and they were just standing around waiting by the time the hot tub was finally filled enough to receive its first 'customers'. It was fortunate that the hot tub was not a big one because otherwise they couldn't have gotten enough tomato juice to fill it from a dozen stores. Arletta claimed that it had taken six stores to buy as much as she had. Unfortunately that also meant that only two people would fit into the hot tub at one time. This time John and Idalia were the first ones to try the new bathing experience. Idalia climb gingerly into it and tried to avoid getting her face wet. Jenn noticed that fact and instructed her and everyone else that they had to dunk completely--head and all--in order to get rid of the smell. Idalia took a deep breath and sunk below the surface for a few seconds before bobbing back up. John followed her example and did the same. "I think you need to stay in there for at least a couple of minutes for it to work," Mel offered. "Yeah," Laura agreed, "anyone got a watch?" "No, I left it inside with...." someone began in answer. Just then Laura noticed Arletta's watch. "Arletta, come over here." "Um....I didn't mention my allergies, did I?" Arletta began. "Cans didn't bother me....but well...It's mostly food allergies. Most pollen doesn't really bother me. Well ragweed, but who ISN'T allergic to that....but.." "What are you rambling about," snapped Laura interrupting her in mid ramble, "get over here and start timing us!" "Ah...allergies are tricky....you can't really mess around with them and such a large amount. Skin absorts stuff anyway. And well I don't..." "Shut up, Arletta! And get over here," snapped someone else. "I'm trying to tell you...my all time WORST allergy is.... "What?" "Tomatoes!" finished Arletta finally. "My worst allergy is tomatoes." Everyone groaned. A few N&NPackers started meaningly towards her. Arletta quickly took off her watch and threw it at the closest one as she said, "I think I'd better check into a motel for a couple of days. Just until all the tomato juice is gone." "How do you propose getting to a motel? You're not taking Susan's car and leaving us stranded here" "Maybe someone could call me a cab?" "You're a cab," answered Ray. "I think I can flag one down a couple of streets over," Arletta said as she fled. "Good riddance," Kris said, "her and her 'bad back' and allergies. Did anyone believe a word of that?" "No," mumbled quite a few people. "Never mind her," said Susan. "Just where do you think you're going?" she said to Idalia and John. They had climbed out of the hot tub and were about to go inside for another shower. This time it was to wash off the reside of tomato juice. "You're not going to drip tomato juice all over my floors now!" "What do you suggest....Oh no" John said as he was hit by another blast of cold water from the garden hose. Finally when Susan was satisfied, John and Idalia raced for a hot shower indoors .... again. ********************************************************************* What is This Stuff? 3/3 by Arletta Asbury (g4akl@erols.com) and the N&NPack Thursday August1/96 3:40am When John stepped out of the shower, he realized he'd made one critical mistake. There were no more towels. Susan's supply had long ago been exhausted. And John's knapsack was in another room. He stood, dripping wet, hiding very carefully behind the door as he opened it and peered around. Spotting Heather he said, "Clear a path for me, PLEASE. I'm coming thru.... um......streaking!" "Huh?" Heather said and then understood. She cleared out fast. John made it to his knapsack unseen and hid in a convenient closet while he put on his last set of clean clothes. One set lay buried among all the goo covered ones and another set of his clothes lay forming the beginnings of a new pile of tomato juice covered items. When he emerged from the closet fully clothed, John realized just how really BAD the house smelled from the piles of goo and tomato covered clothes and from his fellow N&NPackers who hadn't yet had the 'full treatment'. He decided to head away from the others towards the front yard of the house. That turned out to be another BIG mistake. "Laura, Susan, could you come around to the front yard, please!" John yelled. Susan who had just entered the house said, "in a minute okay?" She surveyed the huge mound of incredibly disgusting clothes and wondered 'what next'. Heather reappeared and said to Susan, "I guess we'd better do laundry now, huh?" "Not in MY washing machine," Susan replied and she shuddered. "I'll drive some of you to the laundramat later." Susan then crossed the living room and stepped out the front door. She screamed and then nearly fainted. Her once beautiful lawn was now covered in pink goo....except for a few green polka dots here and there where her fellow N&NPackers had been standing at the time IT happened. And the smell was indescribable. Susan realized that she'd been incredibly lucky her downwind neighbors had merely called the police. They could've lynched her! John and Laura were examining one of the goo covered sensors. "It's ruined," John said. "All of them need to be repaired or replaced. Electronic equipment just isn't meant to withstand gooey wet stuff." "Aren't there any left intact?" asked Laura. "Maybe one or two from the sides of the house but not enough to do any good and they're useless without the controller which is also ruined." "How long will it take to get everything back up and running?" questioned Laura "At least a day, maybe two." Laura sat down suddently, with her head in her hands. All the N&NPackers had depended on her. She had let them down. They were now defenseless against the next attack until the equipment and could be repaired and replaced. Then she realized that she was sitting on a goo covered front step. Now she'd have to go thru the cold shower/hot shower/tomato juice bath/cold shower/hot shower process all over again! "Somebody, just shoot me please," Laura said The end ********************************************************************* They can't be monkeys! Where are their wings? (1/4) By Lane Lombardia N&NPacker Headquarters, Toronto Thursday, August 1st, 4am The absurdly generic envelope was delivered by the sort of grey man that intelligence organizations the world over covet. He was so unimpressive that any eyewitness couldn't have picked him out of line if their lives had depended upon it. The envelope, containing a number of 4 by 5 glossies of Nick and Natalie at the Toronto Zoo near the Monkey cages were clearly taken with some manner of low-end flash-equipped camera. That the red-eye effect was more pronounced in Nick, than in Natalie, came as no surprise to anyone who knew about him; but, probably confused the photo-lab. The pictures looked to be quite recent, based upon the style of clothes, and absence of a vest, that Nick was wearing. In the front- left pants pocket, was a small, leather-bound brown book, the sort that people use to contain phone, bank, or other personal numbers when they haven't wised up and gotten themselves a Newton PDA, or a decent PIM for their PowerBook. Included in with the pictures was a handwritten note. It read: I believe I may have something of interest to you. Meet me at the Zoo at 11pm tonight near the Monkey cages. The note was not signed. An analysis of the handwriting would reveal a complex persona, with more than a little arrogance, and a truly warped appreciation for details. ********************************************************************* Spandex, My Ass! by Cousin Tok time: very early morning Thursday, 8/1 place: CERK and the Perkulators' hotel room (CERK) Tok laughed to herself as she assembled the special package for Jamie. There was a box of Frango mints (courtesy of Marshall Field's back home), a cold pack containing two cans of diet Pepsi and a pint of frozen solid Bailey's flavored Haagen-Dazs, and a very special 'alarm'. She was particularly proud of this device. "It's very simple," she explained to Cousin Gandalf, the vamp-kitty. "You remember Jamie -- she was with us for a while in War 5." "Good, then you ought to be able to home in on her with your new powers. When you find her, I want you to deliver this ... umm ... thank-you present to her for her wake-up call Sunday morning." "That's the one. I've rigged this bag so you can carry it easily," Tok said, indicating the canvas tote with the GenCon logo on it. "Once you find Jamie, you leave the bag next to her and pull out the alarm. This is pretty neat, if I do say so myself." Tok giggled softly. "All you have to do is press this button here. Then, at 5:30 AM, she'll be treated to Garth Brooks singing 'Fever' at full volume. It's on continuous loop and has its own power supply. The only way to turn it off is to smash it." The vamp-kitty rubbed his head on her arm and purred. Neither of them noticed Cousin Willow, tiny kitten that she is, snuggle into the tote bag next to the nice *cool* cold-pack. It was a nice comfortable place to take a nap, she thought as she curled up with the crumpled-up CERK stationery she'd been playing with. Neither did they notice her when Tok put the alarm inside and handed the bag to Cousin Gandalf, who flew out the window with it in search of Jamie. (Perkulators' hotel room) Gandalf had sensed Jamie in this hotel. He'd found his way in easily enough, and made his way past the slumbering perky ones to the place where Jamie lay sound asleep. No doubt dreaming of long-haired men in tight black spandex, judging by the smile on her face. The vamp-kitty carried out Tok's instructions and left as quietly as he'd come. The note propped up by the alarm read: Dear Jamie, I just wanted to let you know how much we all appreciated your kind gesture Sunday morning. I know this isn't men in spandex, but I hope you'll accept it in the spirit in which it was given. Enjoy! A friend A little while later, Willow poked her head out of the tote bag. She'd had a nice nap, but now it was time to play. She picked up her paper ball and hopped to the floor. This wasn't CERK, though. Where was Mom? The sleeping woman next to her wasn't Mom, even though she had blond hair. Willow trotted over to check the other sleeping forms nearby. One of the Perkulators was awakened by a kittenly pounce. She opened one eye to see a cute gray kitten and a wadded-up paper ball by her face. "Where did you come from, sweetie?" She stroked the kitten's head and was rewarded by loud purring. "You don't belong to any of us, and I don't think the hotel would allow you anyway. What's this?" she wondered as she uncrumpled the paper wad. CERK stationery!!? At that precise moment, a loud "click" came from Jamie's direction, and Garth Brooks' voice blared out. "He's got a split finger wrap And his rope's pulled way too tight..." ********************************************************************* Never Look a Gift Kitten... Partly - Perkulators Thurs. 8/1 5:30 am Partly had been sleeping and dreaming of little brown books stolen from her in moments of glory and dead friends who sent e-mail. And like most dreams just when she was going to figure it out, she woke up. A furry clump of hair and claws was jumping on her. "Go away, Roo." Still half asleep, it took her a moment to fully wake up. It couldn't have been Roo. A second kitten pounce, brought her completely awake. She opened one eye to see a cute gray kitten and a wadded-up paper ball by her face. "Where did you come from, sweetie?" She stroked the kitten's head and was rewarded by loud purring. "You don't belong to any of us, and I don't think the hotel would allow you anyway. What's this?" she wondered as she uncrumpled the paper wad. CERK stationery!!? At that precise moment, a loud "click" came from Jamie's direction, and Garth Brooks' voice blared out. "He's got a split finger wrap And his rope's pulled way too tight..." The kitten dove under Partly's covers; the loud music was almost deafening. Partly dropped the paper and it slid out of sight under the bed. She gabbed the small box that the noise was coming from. She turned it desperately around, pressing at all the sides, but she couldn't find anyway to turn it off. By the time the song started again, all the Perks were in the room and Partly was sure the police were on their way. "TURN IT OFF!" Lynne shouted above the song. "I CAN'T!" Partly held it up for everyone to see. The music seemed to be getting louder. Suddenly Robin picked up the lamp off the dresser, grabbed the offending object, set it on the floor and beat it into silence. In the blessed quietness that followed, Jamie sat fully up in bed. "What was that?" "Garth Brooks singing Fever, I believe," Partly answered. "Why couldn't they have picked one of his good ones?" She reached over and examined the goodies left for them, finally ending with the note. It read: Dear Jamie, I just wanted to let you know how much we all appreciated your kind gesture Sunday morning. I know this isn't men in spandex, but I hope you'll accept it in the spirit in which it was given. Enjoy! A friend They all looked at Jamie. "Oh great. I hope this isn't the start of a whole series of retaliations." Partly said. "We got to get you back to the 'Pack." "Who's Jamie?" Jamie asked, laying back on the pillows. She was still very weak and tired. She wondered if this Jamie person would interfere with her getting back to Vachon. She felt sure, since she was now with her people, they would take her back to him. Partly groaned. "Now think. Jamie. She was a cousin, then a merc, finally joined the NatPack. She's ListMommy..." Jamie thought for a moment and then brightened. "I remember. I remember it all now." Everyone relief fell as she continued. "I traded one of Nick's pictures to her for a KISS tape. [War 5-- ed. Note] She was very nice." Jamie yawned and pulled the covers up. "I wonder what I did with that tape." She closed her eyes. "Well, I'm going back to bed." Frederic said. The other Perks agreed and left, all except Robin who began searching through the "gifts". "Mints, diet Pepsi and ice cream. Strange taste in breakfast foods. Is this all?" Partly pointed to the debris on the floor. "And the gift of music." She sat on her bed and stared at Jamie, who had fallen asleep. "I was really hoping sleep would bring her to her senses." Suddenly the kitten, reassured by the silence, jumped onto Partly's lap and began purring loudly. Partly, having forgotten about the stowaway, jumped to her feet in surprise. The kitten clawed it's way up the front of Partly nightshirt and sat on her shoulders, still purring. Robin, who never let anything surprise her if she could help it, just stared at Partly. "I don't recall you having a cat." Partly gently removed the animal and looked at it more closely. She was a gray female, just a little more than five pounds, with beautiful gold eyes, and faint, very faint, tabby markings. She still purred. "Hello, pussycat." Partly said. "You came with the gift, didn't you?" The cat purred. "Do you think she was supposed to?" Robin asked as she headed for the computer. Time for the daily ritual of downloading. Partly shrugged. "I don't know. I doubt it, but we'll keep her until someone claims her." She looked at the cat again. "We've got to have a name for you." "Hikaru Two." Robin suggested. Hikaru -- Roo, for short -- had been Partly cat. He had died the summer before. Partly scratched the purring animals ears. "Kind of reminds you of him, doesn't she. But I couldn't." It was too depressing. "What do you think, Pussy --- Pussywillow. Willow?" The cat purred loudly and licked Partly's hand. "We have a winner. Willow it is." She placed the cat on her shoulder and walked over to Robin. "Any mail from you- know-who?" She asked. Robin nodded and pointed to the screen. TO: PartlyK FROM: GoodCopT MESSAGE: Must meet you. My apartment. 11 pm 8/1. "It has to be a joke," Partly said. "Or attack," Robin pointed out. "I'm going with you." Partly nodded. Either way they would get to the bottom of this. ********************************************************************* Meanwhile, back at the ranch... by Cousin Tok time: early morning Thursday, 8/1; concurrent with the end of "Spandex, My Ass!" place: CERK Tok poked around the Cousins' sleeping quarters, looking under chairs, inside sleeping bags, behind bookcases, and so on. Since it was very, very late or very, very early (depending on your point of view), this did not endear her to the Cousins who were trying to sleep. "Will you cut that out!" someone grumbled. "I can't find Willow. She was with me a little while ago, and now she's gone!" fretted the worried kitten-Mom. "Maybe she's just hiding," offered another Cousin. "I've looked everywhere -- she's just not here." Tok frowned. "You don't suppose one of the other fact...affiliations kidnapped her, do you?" ********************************************************************* VAQ: ACTIONS 8/?: Dreaming of Jamie by Bonnie Pardoe (Vaquero) Thursday, August 1st, ~6 am After "Vachon in Udders?" with references to "ACTIONS 5/?: Jamie Takes Flight" ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Torrey was exhausted. Wednesday had been wild and incredible. \\Just another day in Toronto for the average War Vet!\\ Things had finally settled down. They had gotten Vachon safely back to the church and out of the precious cow suit -- \\Well worth the effort,\\ Torrey thought to herself. Bonnie had done some very nice internet cattle- rustling and managed to whip out a nice little web page, 'A Loving Dedication to Cherri Moo-noz' \\Classic!\\ Torrey hadn't laughed so hard in a long time! But finally, the Vaquero den mother, after encouraging her troops to sleep, plopped gratefully into bed herself. Torrey fell into the deep, contented sleep of a valorous warrior general. But thoughts of the war were ever present, even in slumber. Torrey's unconscious replayed the events of two days before (Tuesday July 30th), not long after Vachon had brought Jamie, the illustrious WebGoddess into their happy little church. Jamie was sleeping soundly in a nice, warm bed in a private, little room. She had been acting a bit strange, happy, but strange, even for Jamie. But, the Vaqueros chalked that up to euphoria after her flight with Vachon -- who wouldn't be euphoric and a bit light-headed after a whirlwind tour of Toronto on Conquistador Aire? They had put her to bed where she, thankfully, fell right to sleep. The Vaqueros, well, most of them, were all sitting around the table in the kitchen eating eggs and hash browns, and drinking coffee and orange juice, celebrating their triumphs of kidnapping Jamie and safely grabbing the chocolate ransom the Mercs had left at the Raven. "Say, do you suppose Jamie would want us to wake her for this feast?" Terry said, always thinking of others. "She had a long night, but I really don't think she would want to miss this!" Jenn knew she was glad to be there and wouldn't personally have missed the spread for anything. "I'll go wake her! Hope she's not dreaming about Nick or LaCroix or Vachon," Katya giggled. Not five minutes later, Katya dashed back into the kitchen, sliding across the bare floor and stopping herself by running into the refrigerator against the far wall. "Jamie's gone," she blurted out as soon as she had caught her breath. "What?" came a collective cry from the herd. Chairs began to clatter to the floor as the Vaqueros leapt to their feet and began a frantic search of the church. The first place checked was Vachon's room -- where else would Jamie want to be? But only the usual occupants of the room were found there, and both were fast asleep. All the pews were checked, every room and closet, even the confessionals. They looked behind the alter, in the choir loft, in the old organ room. Jamie was no where to be found. "Where could she be?" "She can't have simply vanished. That's too weird even for a war." "Well, she was or is a mercenary, they are good at simply vanishing." Some of the Vaqueros pondered as they stood in the Jamie-less nave of the church. "Hey! Torrey, did you leave the door to the roof unlocked after Vachon brought Jamie in last night?" Stephanie asked her 'I scoff at death' leader. "No. I locked, bolted, and chained it!" was the Capitan's immediate response. "Hey, I've got surveillance pictures!" Charlyne was sitting in front of the computers. "Here's Jamie wandering down the hall--" "She looks so cute, like a little kid wanting a glass of water," Carla awed. "Then," Charlyne continued, "here she is at the base of the stairs. And... yep. She went up onto the roof. Guess we found her." "No, after I found that the door was unlocked, I checked the roof. She's not there," Stephanie assured her compadres. "She has to be. Look," Charlyne pointed to the rather flattering picture of the WebGoddess on the screen. "See, she's standing right up there." "Wait, but in that next picture, she's no longer there. Where'd she go?" Jay wondered aloud. "No one could have taken her off the roof -- no one knew she was even here," Storm insisted. "Hey, wait! Go back to that picture. What's that in the tree? That's Jamie! That's Jamie hidden among the branches!" Torrey shouted and pointed. "How the heck.... Well, at least we know no one else has her," Charlyne was dumbfounded but the surveillance cameras didn't lie. "Yeah, and no one knows, probably including Jamie given the state of her short term memory, that she was ever here." Torrey was visibly relieved. "Even if she does remember, she did come willingly -- we never held her against her will!" Jay reminded everyone. Thankful for their extensive surveillance equipment, and the fact the Jamie appeared safe, though her current whereabouts were still unknown, the Vaqueros returned to their scrumptious breakfast! Life in the church was good once again. Torrey opened her eyes for a moment and stretched before pulling the covers back up under her chin. A small smile of satisfaction lingered on her lips, \\The war is going well, the Vaqueros are pulling together, what more could an affiliation leader hope for?\\ ********************************************************************* KEEPING ME ALIVE (02/02) or "Blood Is The Essence of Life, But Who Can Live Without Chocolate?" By Bonnie Pardoe (Vaquero) and Lisa Prince (Merc), with thanks to Dianne la Mercenaire and Kira Chistiakoff. Thursday, August 1st, ~ 9 am the basement of the church ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Bonnie had slept soundly for several solid hours, but she did eventually wake up. She laid on her make-shift bed on the couch, staring at the ceiling of the basement and thinking of the daunting task which awaited her. She had to find a reliable supply of human blood for Vachon. She stretched, and then quietly slipped out of bed, being careful not to disturb her roommate. She stripped off her night shirt, then began to look around. "Hmmm, where did I leave my pants?" she mumbled out load. "Over on that chair." "Huh?" Startled, Bonnie turned to see Vachon staring at her from his bed in the corner. Bonnie stood her ground. \\Damned if I am going to let him see me blush.\\ "Do you mind?" Vachon flashed her a wicked, dimpled grin. "No, not at all." Unwilling to give Vachon the view of her walking up the stairs to search for another place to change, Bonnie simply turned her back on him. "You know, that's not a very smart thing to do," Vachon did not move from his bed. "What's that?" Bonnie asked while pulling on her jeans. He stared at her backside, his eyebrows raised. "Turning your back on a hungry vampire." "Well, if you're hungry, why don't you have something to eat?" Bonnie said as she finally found a clean t-shirt in her tote bag. "Is that a suggestion or an offer?" Bonnie slipped the midnight-blue t-shirt over her head and then turned to face Vachon. The grin on his face gave his dark eyes a playfulness she had not before seen. She couldn't help but smile at the eternal boy. \\He certainly has a way of keeping people off balance.\\ Then suddenly serious, she said, "Vach?" Bonnie had a nasty habit of shortening everyone's name to one syllable, but this vampire did not seem to mind. "You've been on the move for centuries; what do you do about blood when you first get to a new town?" Vachon pursed his lower lip slightly as he thought about this. "Well, if it's a big city like Toronto or New York then I would always look for where the other vampires hung out. There is usually at least one place which caters to our special tastes." Bonnie nodded. "But what if there wasn't such a place?" "Hmmm. Well, I would just live off the land: Hunt. Grab what I could, whenever I could. Sometimes animals, but usually people who wouldn't be missed." Vachon watched her face for a reaction, but she only nodded. "You do what you need to do to survive." Vachon knew why Bonnie was asking questions about his feeding habit, having found the discarded notice from the Raven. These Vaqueros all accepted that he drank human blood, but none of them particularly wanted to think about him feeding directly from the source. She was looking for a new supplier for him and he appreciate her efforts, though he knew she would come up empty handed. * * * * * ~ 3pm that same day Bonnie had been aimlessly walking the streets of downtown Toronto. She had struck out with every idea she had come up with thus far. The Raven seemed to be the only local source for alcohol-preserved human blood -- if there were others, no one would talk to her about them. She was tired, frustrated, and hungry. What she needed was a chocolate fix. Suddenly the most delicious odor assaulted her senses. It was the rich, satiny smell of warm chocolate. Bonnie followed her nose to the shop it was emanating from. "So this is where that Merc chocolate store is. Huh!" The window display was very tempting, \\No. I should be thinking about blood not chocolate! Vachon's addictions, not mine.\\ Bonnie turned to continue her meandering, but got only a step before the thought struck her: \\Mercs. Of course! Mercs could get their grimmy little hands on anything!\\ She turned back to the shop, opened the door, and stepped inside. The aroma of the chocolates was intoxicating. How anyone could step inside and not purchase something was beyond her -- \\These Mercs are good.\\ Bonnie hesitated again, \\What would Torrey and Vachon think of me for consorting with Mercenaries? Can any of the Mercs even be trusted at this point?\\ But she had no choice, so she stepped up to the counter. "May I help you?" a young woman dressed in a black apron inquired. Bonnie nodded, unable to resist, "May I have a quarter pound of chocolate-covered raisins, please." The Merc clerk began to weigh out the yummy little tidbits. "Um, and I was wondering..., might you also sell--" Bonnie dropped her voice to a whisper "--blood?" "Human or animal?" the Merc replied as if she was asked that question all the time. "Human." "No. Actually, we don't carry either. Not much of a demand for it from our regular clientele." "Any idea who might carry such a thing?" The clerk shook her head. "No..., but you might try asking Lisa. One never knows what that one has up her sleeve. You can use the black curtesy phone right over there -- extension, ah.... " She checked a roster posted near the register. "Extension 13." \\Lisa?\\ Bonnie thought for a moment. \\Lisa was the name of the woman who had shorn Vachon's locks. Could it be the same one? If so, a more clever and resourceful person surely could not be found. Anyone who could take advantage of a vampire must be really good.\\ "Thank you." Bonnie paid for her chocolate ($8.95 a pound! Outrageous!) and then went to the indicated phone. She dialed and then waited through four long rings. "Lisa speaking." "Um, hi. I, ah, was told that you might be able to help me. I am looking for a supplier of blood -- human blood." "Well...," the Merc sounded a bit suspicious. "I do know someone..., but it will cost you: 10 pounds of peanut M&Ms. Only yellow ones. And I want them gift wrapped!" Bonnie had agreed to the price, though she was certain that she would live to regret hiring this Merc. * * * * * Friday, August 2nd, Noon Bonnie had spent all last evening and most of the morning separating the yellow M&Ms from the other colors. Thankfully, no one had caught her sorting. She really did not want the other Vaqueros (or Vachon for that matter) to know what she had resorted to. Bonnie had dumped the yellow-colored M&Ms into a nice, sturdy box she had purchased, then wrapped the box in some very pretty floral-print paper. She tied the box with an excess of ribbon. Bonnie waited long past Noon, the appointed hour of their meeting, for the Mercenary to show up at the Food Court in Eaton Centre. \\Definitely a control thing,\\ Bonnie thought. But finally Lisa showed, suddenly appearing at Bonnie's elbow. "I'm Lisa. Pleased to meet you." Bonnie immediately handed the package over to the Merc. Lisa hesitated, staring at the package suspiciously for a moment before finally taking it from her client. Lisa set the box on the counter and began carefully unwrapping it. "Ooh! I love getting presents -- like it's my birthday or something!" Bonnie narrowed her eyes at the woman. \\Well, this confirms it. Mercs are just strange people.\\ Lisa neatly folded up the gift wrap and tucked it into her leather backpack. She opened the box and inspected the contents. Once satisfied that there were no odd colors hidden among the yellow peanut M&Ms, Lisa handed over a slip of paper with a phone number written on it. She simply said, "Let it ring." Bonnie later called the number and, with little trouble, arranged for several cases of alcohol-preserved human blood to be delivered every Saturday evening to Vachon's church. She gave her home address as the billing address and put the first payment on her Visa -- it was not a Gold Card like Apache had, but it had enough credit on it to cover the deposit and the first month's payment. And she really didn't mind covering the charges. \\It's the least I can do for him. Besides, how bad can it be to have a vampire beholden to you for his daily sustenance.\\ Bonnie was pleased that her position on the couch in the basement would now be safe and secure. ********************************************************************* The Note by Laura MacMillan and the N&NPack Thurday, Aug 1/96 10am Note: Followup to the Visitor Laura, Scott and Carrie arrived at the the central library shortly after 10am. Laura and Carrie were exhusted from their morning experience with cotton candy, not mention the fact that people seemed move rather quickly away from them. No matter how much they had showered and bathed in tomato juice, the smell still remained though not as strong. Poor Scott had tried to walk beside her and Carrie, but soon he had to move away to catch his breath. She immediately headed for the book display while Scott and Carrie surveyed the surroundings looking for any sign of a trap. Laura eyed the display case and saw nothing that looked remotely interesting to her. As she studied every inch of it, she noticed a piece of paper sticking out of one of the books. Carefully she reached for the piece of paper, hoping that it was not rigged to anything. It was a plain old piece of white paper with the following neatly written on it. In order to win the war you must first accept that not everyone is your enemy. Wars are won and lost on alliances. Seek out those would support your cause and you theirs and form an alliance. A Friend Laura stared at the note for a moment. Then it hit her she knew what needed to be done. She called Scott and Carrie over and showed them the note. Scott held his breath as he stood beside the two women. Laura reached for a pen and paper and scribled a few lines down, signed it and handed to Scott. Laura whispered two words, "The Perkulators". Scott smiled and rushed out the door, relieved to breathe fresh air. ********************************************************************* A Cousin Indeed (01/01) By: Denise Underwood (Cousins), & Angie Lotto with input by Cherri Munoz Thursday, August 1, 1996 1pm Somewhere in Toronto Angie heard the key in the lock of her prison door, she put down her computer game and waited nervously. Angie wondered who it would be this time. The last few days she had been kept company by various Cousins, mostly April, Dee and Lu. Apparently Cousin Shirl was off on various assignments, and as for Denise; well no one seemed to like talking about what she was doing. Angie hoped that her visitor was Cousin April, she had had her fellow Cousins and Angie in stitches with her LaCroix impression the other night. Angie smiled at the memory, April was a riot! The door opened, Angie was surprised to see Denise there and not one of the Cousins she had expected. "Good afternoon Angie. How are you today? Denise asked. "Not finding your confinement too onerous I hope?" She slightly arched her eyebrows in question. "No, I've been treated very well." Angie replied. "But I still don't know what you want with me. Why are you keeping me here?" Denise gave Angie a considering look that made her very uncomfortable, like she knew what Angie was thinking. Angie wondered what was up with Denise, she was not acting like herself. She was all cool and distant. And Angie knew it wasn't just her, she had noticed in the first day of her captivity Denise's evil twins looking at her worriedly and holding hushed conversations when Denise left the room. After a long silence, Denise finally replied. "Angie, you're a mother aren't you?" She continued as Angie nodded. "So you understand a parent's concern for the well-being of their child" "Yes, of course! A parent would do anything to make sure their child was safe and happy, within reason that is!" "And you care about Nick, and what happens to him don't you?" "Yes, and I can't figure out what this has to do with me being here!" "Angie, LaCroix only has Nick's best interests at heart. I think in your heart you realize this and that properly informed you would choose to be a Cousin." Denise said quietly. "Well yes... I know how much LaCroix cares about Nick, and I have always in my heart known that most of the things he does, as evil as Nick sees them as being, are only LaCroix's instinctive reactions as a parent." Angie paused to consider. "You know... the more that I think about it, if I were in the General's shoes, I would probably be doing the same thing!". Angie stopped, seeming as if she were a million miles away. Cousin Cherri entered the room unnoticed by Angie as she hung her head in thought. Denise acknowledged Cherri's presence with a smile and a nod. Angie was lost deep in thought. Maybe that's what happened to my mail to the Knighties, it was intercepted by the Cousins. That would explain why they never contacted me, why I was never included in the war. Would LaCroix go to that much trouble for me, Angie wondered? To make me realize I am truly a Cousin? "That's why you are here Angie. The General knew your true self, he arranged this so you could get to know us better. See how much like us you are." Denise watched Angie intently with her dark green eyes, seeming to know exactly what she was thinking. "The General can offer you so much Angie!" Cherri said, startling Angie. "Cherri? How long have you been here?" "Not long, I just came to check on you and to discuss a few things with Denise." Cherri sat down next to Angie on the bed. "You'll never have any doubt's with LaCroix, Angie. He is utterly confident and very powerful, no angst or doubt about who he is and his purpose. For him, or for those who follow him." Cherri finished meaningfully. Angie looked at Cherri and Denise. "I have always heard LaCroix takes good care of the Cousins." Cherri put her arm around Angie. "He does, nothing but the best for us. You should see our rooms at CERK, our expense accounts are more than generous. We want for nothing, LaCroix sees to that Angie." She squeezed her shoulders. "You will want for nothing if you join us." "I have always liked all of you, and you have been very nice to me here." Angie looked at Denise "But I would never do anything to hurt Nick!" "Hurt Nick? Of course not!" Denise said, her voice reassuring and calm. "Why would LaCroix want you to do anything like that?" "Don't be silly Angie! The General just wants his family back together, and what's best for Nick. You can't blame him for that can you?" Cherri asked. "But what would I do as a Cousin?" "Oh Angie, you sell yourself short!" Denise exclaimed. "You have so many talents that any affiliation would be pleased to have! Why your computer skills alone make you a valuable asset." Cherri added. "It's not just what you can do Angie. There are certain intangible fringe benefits to following LaCroix." Cherri and Denise grinned wickedly at each other. "That voice, those eyes.." Cherri got a faraway look in her eyes. "Ahh, Cherri? Denise interrupted her daydream. "Angie, do you want time to consider?" "What if I say 'no'?" "Then we will take you to the loft, or wherever you want to go. We have other plans in the works, you can be a part of them.. or not." Denise shrugged. Angie looked at Cherri , then at Denise. They both seemed so sure of themselves, and of LaCroix. These were two women she liked and trusted. They wouldn't lead her astray, would they? And they did have a point about those 'intangibles' she thought wickedly. "All right then," Angie took a deep breath, "I'll join you!" "A wise decision Angie, one you won't regret I assure you." Denise smiled slightly. "Not at all." Cherri hugged Angie. "You're making the right decision! You'll see." Cherri grinned. Denise and Cherri led Angie out of her room to the main area beyond. There waiting were April, Dee and Lu, all with expectant looks on their faces. "Well?" asked April. "Was there ever really any doubt?" Denise replied in a satisfied voice. "Ladies, welcome Cousin Angie to the family!" ********************************************************************* The Further Adventures of Timon, the VampRat By Elizabeth Ann Lewis Thursday, August 1st, about 2 PM Merc Central Merc Central was almost dark enough to house a vampire. So many Mercs had middle-of-the-night missions that blinds had been drawn and windows shuttered, so no light could get in, and so they could sleep. Good luck. Timon was wakened from his nice nap by the sound of a human screaming at the top of her lungs, "SOMEONE-GET-IN-HERE-NOW-AND-CLEAN-UP-THIS- PLACE!!! Screed, get your sorry butt up here, you missed a rat!!!" Blinking small pink eyes, Timon glanced up at the tall human. Too tall to be Tigon, and much, much too tall to be Lizbet, he decided as he yawned and tried to start his usual post-nap grooming. Dianne glared at the little rodent in her in box, plotting serious harm to whoever was in charge of keeping Merc Central clean. The rat didn't look like he was going anywhere fast, so she reached out and rattled the in box, hoping to scare him into moving. Timon stopped grooming as his nice comfy bed shook beneath him. Since he was a Southern California rat, he knew about those nasty things that make the ground move and things fall off of shelves. But he decided this time that it had more to do with the tall human's hand on his box. Curious, he flew up and looked her in the face, twitching his whiskers thoughtfully. Dianne's eyes crossed as she stared at the levitating rat in front of her nose. It took three seconds for her to figure out what was going on here. Great, all she needed, a *vampire* rat! She was seriously annoyed now. How on earth did you kill a vampire rat? Stake him with a toothpick? "Shoo, go away," she said, swishing her hands in his direction but careful not to get too close to his mouth. Timon backed up, and decided he really didn't need to be here right now. He flew down and out of the door through the handy flap, and made his way out into the hall. He needed to find Tigon, and barring that, Lizbet to get him to Tigon. More than that, he needed crackers. Three feet into the nice, dim hallway, he nearly ran into a young girl. He had managed to find blood the last time he looked around this strange place, but crackers had been nowhere. Maybe *she* could find crackers... find crackers... find crackers.... Five minutes later, various Mercs were treated to the site of Samantha wandering around holding a cracker to her mouth with both hands and nibbling it rapidly. Every few moments she would look up, twitch her nose, and return to her cracker. Somebody walked up to her to ask if she needed help (like a straight jacket). Samantha looked up, smiled, and reached out to honk that person's nose, cheerfully shouting, "Arrrouuuuuuugha! Arrrouuuuugha!" Meanwhile, Timon flew on. He had sent the human for crackers, but she had never come back. Maybe it was time to try it again... Chris poked her head out into the hallway. "Hi Berg," she said. "What's up?" Berg smiled, twitched his imaginary whiskers, and honked the nose of the Merc Mommy General. "I'm not insane. Really. In fact, you can ask my other personality if you don't believe me!" Dianne was still fuming about the vampire rat in her office when she heard a knock on the door. "Come in," she called. Berg came in, tapping his fingers nervously together. "Pardon me, but do you have any crackers?" Dianne raised her eyebrows. "Nope, I don't. But you *are* definately crackers!" "Crackers? I'm not crackers. I'm wheat thins!" he said indignantly, and honked her nose. The shriek of rage could be heard throughout the house. Timon heard it, and decided he wasn't going to get any crackers soon. He descended to the basement, where he had found bottles of cow blood before. But he smelled again the horrible, horrible stench of rat deaths that permeated the place. His eyes began to glow red with anger, and he decided it was time to find and face the rat murderer who lived in the tunnels below... ********************************************************************* Pardon Me, Are You Missing a Rat? (1/1) Tigon Diana Hooker/AlphaWoof of the WoofPack Thursday/1 AUG 1996/2:30pm Toronto, Merc Central (right after 'The Further Adventures of Timon, the VampRat') Lizbet avoided another nose-honk from Berg and dialed the phone with decided agitation. She plugged on ear with her finger and pressed the receiver firmly against her other ear, barely able to hear the phone ringing above the shrill yells abounding at Merc Central. "Hello, Fang Gang residence...what can I do ya fer?" "TIGON?" "Geez, yell a little why doncha, Lizbet?" Lizbet could almost picture Tigon shaking her head in irritation. "Tigon...you still haven't found Timon, have you?" Lizbet thought she should make sure that the rat that the Merc General was currently yelling about was not an accidental creation of Screed's before accusing Tigon's rat of the mayhem abounding. For all Lizbet knew, all rats could have Timon's habits of nose-honking and cracker addiction. Tigon's voice on the other end sounded beyond glum and straight into despair. "No...I don't know where he could have gone. I'm about ready to lead the WoofPack in an all out assault on the other affiliations in case one of them took him." Lizbet's mind flinched at that statement...Tigon *would* do it, too. "NO!" she yelled, as if Tigon were about to attack right then. "I mean, he's here." Now Tigon's voice grew growly, "Mercs took him?" Ooops, thought Lizbet, "NO! I mean, no. He just showed up...maybe he followed me or something." The growling on the other end stopped. "Look, have you rented a car or something yet?" "Steve just got back with a van." "Well then get over here before it's too late!" Lizbet yelled, the frowned...for she had said it to a dial tone. ********************************************************************* Rat Revolution (1/1) Tigon Diana Hooker/AlphaWoof of the Woofpack Thursday/1 AUG 1996/2:35pm Toronto, Merc Central (right after 'Pardon Me, Are You Missing a Rat?') Timon did not have to search the tunnels far to find what the source of the rat-death stench. He landed outside the opening to the chamber from which the stench emitted, and crept slowly in. Inside were hundreds of living rats and one slumbering...man...for lack of a better word. Quite possibly the foulest smelling thing Timon had ever had the misfortune to smell. Contrary to popular myth, rats are actually quite fastiduous, and the little VampRat could not fathom how his brethren could tolerate this place. Reaching the outskirts of the pack of rats, he sqeaked an inquiry. The nearest rats looked blankly at him, their glazed eyes giving him the answer. He was a vampire, he knew a glamour when he saw one. His poor brethren was enthralled to stay amidst this stench, to be killed at the foul vampires whim. He began the process of releasing their minds, a far easier process for Timon that the man, since Timon knew the language, of course. Soon the sleeping Screed was surrounded by some very annoyed rats. Timon landed on the vampires chest, hoping he would be able to clean the stench off his little hands and feet eventually. He wiggled his whiskers and honked the beaklike nose. "Heera!" yelped Screed, jumping half up and tumbling Timon off his chest. He rubbed his nose vigorously, then noticed the ominous eyes of the rats surrounding him. "Hee than, wha's up wit ye lot?" The rats squeezed in a little closer. "Ya all be doin' the pushshoveys for the right to bein' ol' Screed's next gullet gusher then?" He reached for the nearest rat, only to have his hand viciously nipped. "Cor! Wha's up wit ye lot?" Timon flew up into Screed's face and began giving him whatfor in Rattese. Screed took one look at the little VampRat and realized his worse nightmare was coming true. ********************************************************************* Lizbet Goes Crackers (1/1) Tigon Diana Hooker/AlphaWoof of the WoofPack Thursday/1 AUG 1996/2:45pm Toronto, Merc Central (right after 'Rat Revolution') The Merc General had finally calmed down enough to drill Lizbet about her unexpected guest. "So it's your friend's rat. She's the leader of the WoofPack, right? Are you sure she didn't plant the rat here as some sort of diversion or attack?" Lizbet shook her head, growing a little tired of being surrounded by paronoid people, "Tigon's been too frantic about his disappearance. Besides, we haven't done anything to her, and she'd never put any of her animals into potential danger without going herself." Dianne considered this thoughfully for a moment, no doubt filing the info on Tigon somewhere it could be used, then peered even more intently at Lizbet. "I've been meaning to talk to you about your late dues." Just then, a scream ripped up from the tunnels...Screed. Lizbet had never been more happy about an interruption in her life. "Ohmigosh," she said, "Timon must have run into Screed, or vice versa. I'd better go down there!" With that, Lizbet slipped away from the dues-hungry Merc General as fast as her short strides could carry her. Once in the tunnels, however, Lizbet found her steps came much slower. Spooky, dark, and dank didn't begin to describe what she travelled through, led by Screed's whimpers. Soon she rounded a corner to find fodder for rat-phobia. Screed was surround and half-buried in a sea of rats. Hovering in front of his face was the wrathful Timon. The normally barely- incomprehensible vampire had lapsed into complete incoherance, and was apparently trying to talk Timon into letting him go in Timon's own language...at least that's the way it sounded to Lizbet. More worried about what Tigon would do to her if anything happened to Timon than for Screed's safety, Lizbet strode up and gently tugged on the little VampRat's tail. Only to have two bright red eyes fasten on to her. Suddenly, Lizbet wanted a cracker *desperately*...no! wait! She couldn't eat a cracker, she was forbidden carbohydrates! But she must have one...not just one, many! Lizbet's nose twitched. She began heading out of the rat chamber only to plow right into Tigon and the Merc General. "Hey Lizbet...lookin' pink." The AlphaWoof grinned at her. Lizbet tried to honk her nose, but was batted away by Tigon's dino- cast. "Crackers?" said Lizbet hopefully. ********************************************************************* Powers of Persuasion (Part 1 of 3) by Tara O'Shea, with input by Jane, Tami, and Jessica Date: Thursday, August 1, 1996 Time: 3:00 pm Location: The Raven It still felt like morning, despite the fact that most people were glancing at their watches by now, looking forward to quitting time and fighting their way through rush hour traffic to backyard barbecues and family dinners. Bleary eyes, hair still damp from her shower, Tara stumbled into the Raven, and found Jane, Tami and Felicia around one of the circular tables behind the curtain of chains. After her experiences at the vampire sex bar, a broadening of horizons she really could have lived without, Tara had begged off the proposed scouring of the other bars on Queen Street West, but from the hangdog expressions (and, in Felicia's case, hung-over) they all war, last night must have been worse for them than it had been for her. "What's the matter? Couldn't you find him?" Tara poured herself some coffee. "We found him." Jane looked thoroughly depressed. "But he doesn't seem to want to come back." "Where did you, find him anyway?" "Bakka." Tami supplied. "Did you just call me an idiot in Japanese?" Tara's eyebrows shot up in amusement. "No, it's an SF bookstore, my favourite, actually. And about as far away from bartending as one can get." Jane rested her chin in her hand. "Mom," Jessica came over and tugged on Tami's shirt. "Can I--" "In a minute, princess." Tami put an arm around her daughter's shoulders. "What did he say?" Tara asked. "Not much." Jane frowned. Felecia looked particularly depressed. "He disappeared before we even had the chance to ask him anything." "Have you told the Boss?" Tara's eyes slid over to the door to Janette's office, behind the curtain of chains. Tami sighed. "Not yet. If worst comes to worst, I'm a decent bartender. That takes care of the mortal patrons, and at least the other ones don't do mixed drinks." "MOM," Jessica piped up again, and it was clear from the set of her shoulders and light in her eyes that while it was all well and good to listen to her mother talking with her friends, she really wanted to be listened to. "Can I help?" "Help what, kiddo?" Tara asked. "I'm seven, and I'm smart for my age, and I'm really good on convincing people. Everybody here has a job to do except me." "Hey, munchkin," Tara leaned down so she was eye level with Jessica. "Do you know why we're looking for Miklos?" "'Cause he's your friend." "He's a very special friend. Like Janette is a special friend. How can I say this without sounding like I'm talking down to you . . . Most of the time, no matter how much I like some of these vampires, I wouldn't send a seven year old kid to talk to them. You know how come?" "Not really." "Because with very few exceptions, most seven year olds wouldn't be safe with them. Now, I've hung out with Miklos every war since he joined Janette's staff, and I'm 99% sure he's one of the good guys." She sighed, and met Tami's eyes over her daughter's blonde head, and then smiled for her benefit. "Still, if it's okay with your Mom, then I think it would be a great idea, because if anyone could get through to him, it would be a great kid like you. How does that sound?" Jessica's eyes lit up, and she tackled her mother. "Oh, Mom, please? I'll clean my room every day, and won't leave my stuff all over the living room, and I'll even do my homework before I watch TV!" "I like the sound of this deal," Tami laughed, and glanced around the table "So who's coming with us?" Jane grinned. "Hey, I'm game for another try, and I can't wait to see this one at work," she tousled Jessica's hair. "You're a charmer, kid, and it'll be a pleasure to see you work." "Do I get paid?" "Jessica!" Tami laughed. "Aren't you mercenary at heart," Tara laughed. "Who have you been hanging out with?" "Well, everybody's talking about new clothes and chocolate and stuff." "We'll clean out an art supply store at the end, how does that sound?" "I love it," Jessica grinned, and jumped on her Mom's lap. "So, what's the plan?" ********************************************************************* A Clockwork Rat (1/1) Tigon Diana Hooker/AlphaWoof of the WoofPack Thursday/1 AUG 1996/3:00pm Toronto, Merc Central (right after 'Lizbet Goes Crackers') Tigon leaned on her Shillelagh and enjoyed the sensation of Timon snuggling once more in his rightful place under her chin. After the Merc General had convinced her that she should save Screed (which Tigon still had doubts about) and Timon had sent the newly freed ratpack on its way, they had returned to the main part of Merc Central. Dianne was feeding crackers to Samantha and Berg while holding the box away from Lizbet's desperate grabs. "Must have crackers!" the diminutive merc repeated over and over. Lizbet tried to steal one of Berg's, only to have her nose honked. The Merc General stared aghast at the trio of rat-hynotised mercs. "Are you sure I can't let Lizbet have a cracker." Tigon, feeding a blood-soaked saltine to Timon, nodded. "Better not, she's been on a strict, no-carb diet since last Christmas." Avoiding a nose-honk, Dianne asked, "And you're sure the glamour will wear off?" "Eventually, depending on how susceptable their minds are." Tigon eyed the cracker-crazed Lizbet with an evil grin, "Of course, the cracker fetish seems to last forever, for some reason." That would teach Lizbet to inflict Lebanon baloney on the unsuspecting. Lizbet tried to honk Tigon's nose again, only to be once more thwarted, this time by the shillelagh across her knuckles. Sucking her injured hand, she seemed actually to come out of it, "Why on earth did you bring that, Tigon?" "Angelique's back," Tigon replied, referring to their Sybil-like friend and her vampire persona. "So?" "She's waxing poetic over LaCroix again. I thought it best to remove the shillelagh of suicide." Dianne admired the Irish club, "I have one myself." "Doesn't everybody?" Tigon puzzled. "Well, i's jus a fine-diddly-do thing..yer arrivin' when you did like," came Screed's voice from where he had been banished in a corner. Tigon winced and gritted her teeth. "I don't care what anybody says," she said, "I think Screed sounds more like Flanders on 'The Simpsons' than Malcolm McDowell in 'A Clockwork Orange.' "Tha's a fine diddly-do thing ta be saying about the ol' Screed man!" ********************************************************************* Those dirty rotten cousins. by Pat Casey, Vaquera Wednesday, July 31, 1996 shortly after 3:00 p.m. At the church, just after A Farce in Three Acts. Pat didn't want to believe what she saw. They took Vachon's bike! They had whizzed right past her as if she wasn't even there. She had wandered away from the jubilant Vaquera/os, who were indulging in chocolates and muscled men. Not that the over-bulked men hadn't been enticing to watch, but something didn't feel right. She was never one to look a gift horse in the mouth. When she had walked down the side of the garage, she heard voices. The geese had been going wild. Before she turned the corner, she listened to voices. They were saying something . . . was that "check?" Or was it "cheek?" If only she could have heard more. Did they say plan the evidence?" That didn't make sense. Doggonit! If only she had heard more. But how did they get in the garage? Man! Evidence of geese bait littered the ground. Smashed pieces of Cheetos. Geese were almost as bad as goats. They'd eat anything. Why were the Vaguera/os being targeted so much? "Now they've done it, cousins," she muttered. "Vachon will tear you up . . . or we will. No one messes with a Vaquera/o." The first one at her side was Torrey. "How'd they get by the geese?" she asked. Still starry-eyed from muscled show-offs, the pack followed on her heels. "How else?" Pat replied. "Food. Plus the men to distract us. Above the noise of the boom box, we couldn't hear our own alarm squawking." "Drat! This is the last straw," Apache declared. "It's time to hit them with everything we've got." "Yeah," Nancy said. "Frankly, I've had enough. I know it's war, but we can't trust anyone." Pat pressed her lips together. "The trick is to tell Vachon now. He'll be out for blood when he finds out. And I don't mean in the clich‚ sense. He's upset enough that we've invaded his domain, but when other groups steal from him, he's not going to take that lightly. This war has taken personal attacks on Vachon and that's not fair. We haven't tried to do anything to LaCroix, Jeanette, Nat, Nick and the others." Sherri was shaking her head. "We have to beef up security. Two many things are happening around here." "Well," Apache said. "Maybe we should have worried about the garage. It doesn't even open into the church building, so I wasn't so worried about it." "Me neither," Pat said. "Well . . . we're not doing any good standing around here. "But I thought I heard them talking. I could only pick up a few words." "I don't like the sound of this," Torrie said. "What else are we going to have to endure?" Pat grimaced. "When I got to the garage door, they had already started the bike and zoomed past me." "Who?" Nancy asked. "Cousins. I'd seen them before and I'd recognize them, but I don't know their names. They said something about 'plan the evidence.' I couldn't hear very well. Their voices were low. Jil came out of the garage. "I found these French fries and ketchup. Doesn't that mean something? "I'm not sure," Sherri said. "Unless they were trying to throw us off their tracks. What does 'plan the evidence' mean?" "Maybe it "plant the evidence", Nancy said. Apache's dark eyes flashed. "That'd be like the Cousins. Well, it looks like the war is really war now. This will have to be dealt with and soon. We're going to loose face if these episodes keep up." "I've already said, that we've got to beef up security," Sherri said. "We just can't let down our guard even for a minute," Torrey said. Not even for a minute." A glum bunch of Vaquera/os entered the church. Pat didn't envy the one who'd have to tell Vachon. She hoped he could be controlled. After all, a vampire could only take so much, couldn't he? ********************************************************************* The Spirited Run By Lynn Stapleton and The NatPack Date: Wednesday, Aug. 2, 1996 Time: Following A KISS From the Homefront, 5:00pm Location: NatPack Hostel A number of the NatPackers that remained at the Hostel were scattered throughout. While Eliz, D.L., Amy V., Elaine, and Amparo sat at the dining room table seemingly over-engaged in a game of Poker. In order to protect their cards, they held them right up in front of their faces which made the game quite interesting. Sharon H., Kelly and Alora were going over the recipies from the book they got from Nat's apartment earlier. Most of the chocolates that had been meant for Jamie were now eaten. Apparently Alora picked them up, and the others thought it had been a possible bomb. But when it had been discovered that it was chocolates, it was decided that they be tested to make sure they weren't poisoned. That was half an hour ago, and now three quarters of a box later. Lynn in the meantime, was in the kitchen, checking on what groceries and liquor was needing to be replenished. Suddenly a rather loud roar of frustration, followed by a low moan came from the area of the kitchen. Eliz and Amparo came into the kitchen. "Lynn, what is it?" Amparo asked, concerned. "Do you realize how much liquor we've gone through in only a week?" Lynn shook her head, dumbfounded. Elaine and Mary GT came into the kitchen. "What's up?" Mary GT asked. "We are out of liquor," Eliz announced. "Like nada, niente, zip." "When are they going to be back with our glasses and stuff?" Lynn asked. "I'm going to need them if I'm to go pick up some more alcohol." "So what foods and spices to we need to make those protein shakes?" Betsy asked. "I think Jill has them," Sharon H. spoke. She was still visibly fuming. Not only had she had the misfortune of seeing the face of a particular Brick yesterday, but see was also peeved that someone(s) other than the Pack had entered Natalie's home. Jill walked over to the living room table, and opened the recipie book. The other NatPackers gathered around. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief. "Oh, great. Now let's see what combinations we can come up with," D.L. spoke. Amparo walked over to Kelly. "What's with Sharon?" "She saw a picture of *Him* on a wall at the hair salon - yesterday. Then some people entered Nat's apartment. There were some medical forms missing." "She's been like this since yesterday? What caused it?" She paused, then spoke again. "The Guy? I didn't think -" "No. Nick," Amy spoke up. Sharon caught the briefest mention of his name, and went off on another tirade. "I'm going to kill him. Mangle his twisted vampire self, till he wished a surefire day in the sun would be better..." Maureen shook her head, sighing. "She's been like it ever since she saw that damn photo. Even a mention of The Guy in the car barely got her to calm down." "But we had managed to pick up something at the salon." Mei showed them some of the contents. "I was a little nervous bringing this up yesterday, especially since it was His." "That isn't what I think it is, is it?" Eliz asked. "A little brown book with the signiature of a certain blond vampire." "A *bleached* blond vampire," Jill blurted out. With that every NatPacker in the place burst out laughing. It was a truly terrifying sight for the uninitated, but for the Pack, it was normal (well, as normal as the Pack can get). "Look, guys. I hate to break up this little gathering," Lynn said once she had regained her composure. "But we are out of alcohol. And we do need to pick up the necessary ingredients for the shakes. "What? That can't be. There was plenty there the other night." Jennie said. "Well, there's none there now. I'm going to have to make another run to the liquor store. Anyone want to come help pick stuff out, and help carry it?" Amy H. called out. "I'll go. I can help with the gin." "Amy, don't you think you've had enough? You don't usually drink so much." Jennie cautioned. "But -" "No buts," Alora seconded Jennie's concern for their fellow Pack member. She then turned to Lynn. "I'll go. I need to pick up some Vodka. Also, do you where the best place we can pick up some Ribena?" "Thanks. There's an specialty foods store down on Queen, where we can stop for that," Lynn replied. "Great. Anyone else want to join us?" From the background could be heard some NatPackers chant: "Join us. Join us. Join us." A snicker crossed Maureen's face. "Save it for later, guys. When we come near our new Separated-From-Birth-NatPacker. Remember, we do have to conserve our energies." "Okay. Let's go." Alora led the small group out to the limo. And then just as quickly Lynn asked, "Ah, what happened to the car?" "Long story. Later," Maureen replied, then got in the car. She, Lynn, Maureen and Jennie headed out for the liquor run. ********************************************************************* Lookit All the Pretty Posters.... by: Cousin Candice date: Thursday August 1st time: 6:00 in the evening Place: NatPack HQ, Homestead, whatever... Candice had just finished tacking up her last poster to the ceiling and was really starting to feel light-headed. She'd never had a problem with heights before,..maybe it was the blood-loss... She climbed down from the ladder to admire her handiwork and that of the other Cousins around her. Candice was really impressed, considering the timeframe they had to work within. Erik had constructed an altar on the whole backwall of the NatPackHQ complete with Safely Burning Candles (tm) and was just lighting the last in the heart-shape they made around a picture of Nick and Natalie with their faces smushed together, cheek-to-cheek, smiling. Candice thought briefly on staying till the NatBorg came home. Gods, it would be worth it just to see Sharon's face. There were life-size posters plastered to every coverable inch of wallspace of Nick vamped out and pictures of the dream sequence (Nat In Rapture) and various other cheesy lovey-Hallmarky-makeyawannapukey kinda things decorating every surface, including the toilet. But no, it was time to move on. Erik was already gone when she stepped out onto the street. It was a good night to be a Cousin... ********************************************************************* Powers of Persuasion (Part 2 of 3) Tara O'Shea Date: Thursday, August 1, 1996 Time: 6:30 pm Location: Bakka Mikos almost scared the shopgirl he was releiving half to death when she turned around to find him standing directly behind her. "I hate it when you do that." "Sory," he smiled, not particularly apologetic. "Just a few customers, a lady with her kid, and some browsers, and the boss wants you to input as many of the new stock numbers into the database as you can. I got about half of them, but there's still the Tor and Del Rey stuff, and the movie and tv tie-ins--" "Got it." Miklos surveyed the stacks of new paperbacks and hardcovers with a practiced eye, figuring he'd make short work of them, assuming no one was around to see a small display of inhuman speed and agility. Grabbing a handful, he keyed in his pasword, and got to work. "Excuse me," a voice broke through hsi concentration, and he looked around, confused. "Excuse me," the voice repeated, and he finally looked down. Behind the counter, the top of her head barely reaching the top of the glass display case, was a little girl. Looking around, he couldn't spot her mother, and with a sigh of resignation, he knelt down so that he was in her line of sight. "Can I help you?" "How come you don't wear a name tag?" the child asked. "I must have forgotten," he looked down at the leather vest, feinign surprise. the truth of the matter was, he was loath to stick pins in his favourite vest, despite what the management said about always wearing identification. "How am I supposed to know what your name is, if you don't have a name tag?" "You don't have a name tag either." "But I'm not working," she replied matter of factly. "I mean, I am, but not in a store, like you are." "Quite right." he found himselfed charmed in spite of himself. "If I tell you my name, will you tell me yours?" "Okay." "I'm called Miklos." "Me-kloosh," she repeated, and he nodded. She smiled brightly. "Oh good. My name's Jessica, and I've been looking for you." "For me?" "Oh yes! I'm really glad I found you." "Why might that be?" "Because, my job is to ask you to come back with me." "Come back? Where?" "To the Raven." Miklos froze, the indulgent smile slipping from his face, which now seemed carved of stone. He looked up to see two women approaching, both of whom he recognised as being part of the party present as he'd locked up the store last night. The little girl beamed at the other woman. SOmething about MaiTai's nagged at his memory, but he couldn't quite pin it down. "Mom, I found him!" "You sure did, princess. How's it going?" "I've asked him, but he hasn't answered me yet," she looked back at him, completely innocent. Seemlingly innocent, since she must have a little cunning, to be involved in a war. "Please? Won't you come back?" Her large grey-green eyes pleaded with his, and for a second he wavered. These mortals might be crazy, but this was just a child... "Why?" he asked softly. "Because . . " Jessica appeared deep in thought. "'Cause you're our friend. And if you don't, Mom will have to work all night behind the bar. Then she won't be able to read me my bedtime story and kiss me goodnight." She looked him straight in the eye, and pouted prettily. "Can't you get along with out me?" he directed this question at Jane-- yes, that was her name, rather than look this pint-sized terror of adorable little girl in the eye again. "We'd rather not." "You'll just have to." he said sharply, and stepped back behind the counter. "If you're not going to buy anything, I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to leave." "You won't sell very many books with that policy," Jane raised her chin a fraction, but was met with an icy stare. "Come on, princess, we're going," Tami sighed, and Jessica ran back behind the counter. "It was nice meeting you anyway, and I wish you'd come, I really do." She dashed back to her mother's side and he stared at the computer keyboard until he heard the glass door swing shut. Not again. ********************************************************************* They can't be monkeys! Where are their wings? (2/4) By Lane Lombardia N&NPackers Headquarters, Toronto Thursday, August 1st, noon The N&NPackers certainly realized the intended implication, that the sender of the package either had a copy of the Brown book, or had information pertaining to it. They also realized that they had no reason to trust anyone in a war, let alone an unidentified stranger. Still, perhaps they could extract something useful, so they had to investigate. At the very least, they were happy to have photographs supporting their world-view. Primate Area, Toronto Zoo, Toronto 3pm As part of ongoing maintenance, the Toronto Zoo had temporarily closed off the main area of the various monkey living areas, confining the monkeys to the periphery. Taking pressure washers and wet-vacs, they scoured the living area, removing miscellaneous filth and excrement (do you really want me to go into the details? Ewwww!). The tall, dark mercenary watched them as they worked, and when they had finished, observed with considerable satisfaction when they discovered that the truck, upon which the wet-vacs were bolted just wasn't interested in starting. Exasperated, hot, sweaty, and tired, the Zoo workers called for help, only to be told that the garage to which they were exclusively contracted for just such repairs and maintenance had somehow gotten swamped with customers wanting their oil, transmission fluid, and differential lube changed out. One of the mechanics, in the background, could be heard complaining about the odd heat-shielding that he had to struggle around and what a pest it was to change the oil on a car equipped with a Mecca Accusump if he couldn't get at the release solenoid. His particular grumbling was particularly verbose and profane. Calling it a day, in frustrated exasperation, the zoo workers left for the day after realizing that their maintenance and repair contract forbade them from selecting an alternate garage if the delay would be less than 24 hours, and the garage owner assured them that he would have someone over at the zoo first thing in the morning. Lane watched them go, knowing how embarrassing it would be for them when the truck started right up the next morning; but, being far more focused upon the job at hand. ********************************************************************* Invitation to a Party Date: AUG 1, 13:45 To: warriors@hq.toronto.ca From: lizbet@primenet.com Subject: HIGHLANDER PARTY!!! Attention! Open invitation to all to attend a Highlander party at the Fang Gang Mansion on Saturday, August 3rd. This party is to give everyone a chance to wind down, watch some videos, coo over Duncan's butt, and agree that Methos is the coolest Immortal around. VERY IMPORTANT: PLEASE RSVP to Lizbet (lizbet@primenet.com) if you wish to attend. Refreshments and entertainment for all! ********************************************************************* They can't be monkeys! Where are their wings? (3/4) By Lane Lombardia N&NPackers Headquarters, Toronto Thursday, August 1st, 7pm The N&Npackers had decided upon a group to investigate the matter of the photographs and note. They knew that some manner of investigation was necessary; but, they were particularly unhappy about walking into something that didn't sit well with them. The matter that had decided it for them had been the possibility of obtaining additional pictures of Nick and Nat together in settings that no one had ever seen them in. Perhaps, as they fervently believed, there was proof of their view that Nat was the only one for Nick. Such proof was just too important to not take the risk. The team consisted of Mel, Chana, Carrie, Kelly, Debbi, Sun, Tina, Pat and Heather. Their primary strength, other than the force of their belief, was their capacity to act as a team, supporting one another. That was what made them stronger than the sum of the parts. Primate Area, Toronto Zoo, Toronto 9:45pm Conforming to the shape of the props (which the Zoo installed into each area to make it more closely resemble the native habitats of the beings therein), the man was, for all intents, invisible. The Zoo officials would have arrested him on the spot for trespassing if he had not. For hours, the man had hidden while waiting the N&Npackers. His muscles were sore and the textured, mock-stone pressed against him in ways that would have delighted DeSade. There was always the chance that they wouldn't accept the invitation; but the chances had been slight. The carrot had been too impressive to pass up, even though they had every reason to expect a stick, instead. ********************************************************************* Powers of Persuasion (Part 3 of 3) by Tara O'Shea date: Thursday, August 1 time: approximately 10:00 PM location: Bakka, Toronto Miklos looked up from the computer to see the door swing shut. A young woman browsed, her back turned to him. There was nothing remarkable about her from his angle. Medium height and build, black hair loose over her shoulders. She tucked it behind her ears as she bent down to pick up a new paperback, flipping it over to read the copy on the back. He cleared his throat, but she didn't turn around. "Can I help you?" he finally asked, and she put the book back. Tara turned, smiling brightly. "Yes, I think you can." "Oh no," he said softly, brushing his own hair back from his face with long fingers, and closing his eyes as if he was in pain. "I had hoped you were too busy to come." "I'm never too busy to visit friends." "Friends?" "I like to think of you as a friend." She leaned on the counter, head cocked. "Am I wrong?" "As I told your *other* friends, I am out of the game." "Game?" "Your little wars, your petty squabbles." "I'd hardly call them petty," she said to her feet, but there was laughter behind her words. She traced spirals on the countertop. "Perhaps a little." "Sending a child was . . . interesting. Dangerous--" "We knew Jessica would be perfectly safe with you, and you have to admit, the kid's got tremendous powers of persuasion. I was almost sure you'd fall for her. I was a last ditch effort, though I like to think I have a certain flare for persuasion." "Not this time," he leaned back in his chair. "I'm done with it." "Done with what? With your loyalty to Janette?" "That's not what I--" he began, but she overrode him. "Certainly it is. That's the only issue that matters here. You may not like me or my kind, you may not agree with our methods or our actions, but our goals have always been the same. To help her. To protect her, if we think she needs it. And always to be loyal to her, no matter who her master is. This isn't about sires or children, this is about one woman who has sheltered us, given us the gift of her company, and asked little in return. Just loyalty." He looked shattered for a moment, but then he leaned back, crossing his arms and glared at her. "Very inspirational. Tell me, did you practice that before the mirror first, or am I treated to an incredible improvisation?" "Dammit, Miki, what happened to you?" she said softly, her tone almost shocking him out of the righteous indignation he was working up at this intrusion into his brand spanking new life. "Nothing happened to me. She left, and so did I." He turned back to the computer screen. "She needs you." "Janette doesn't need anyone." "You don't believe that. At the risk of sounding like a cliche, no man is an island. No woman, or vampire, either. Why else would she put up with the gaggle of Ravens that descend upon her once or twice a year? Why else turn her club into a haven for the city's vampires? She needs us. More than she needs us, she needs you. And we need you." She smiled mischievously. "Come on, it'll be like old times." "Old times?" he sputtered. "We have precious few old times to re- live." She knew that somehow, in that space from one sentence to the next, she'd won most of the battle. Now she just had to brazen out the rest. "Well, then, we'll make new ones for later. And we're nothing if not persistent." She rested her chin in her cupped hands, batting her eyelashes at him. "Say you'll join us, or we'll just keep sending out Ravens to persuade you. You'll get quite sick of us, eventually. Say yes now, spare yourself the aggravation." He turned off the computer, and then the monitor, surveying the empty bookstore. She knew that look. It was defeat. She grinned. "You're insane, you all are. Mortals with undying loyalty to someone who would just as soon make you a snack." "Mad as hatters to the very last." She agreed cheerfully. "I never claimed to be anything else." "Why am I suddenly so popular, anyway?" He switched the sign from open to closed, snapping off first one, then the other bank of overhead lamps before they slipped out into the warm night air. "Don't you know? It's an easily recognisable phenomenon in war-time that I like to call 'the vampire groupie'. If a woman can't get close to Nick or LaCroix, however her tastes may dictate, you, my ducky- dove, are the nearest available target. It is an affliction shared by Felix, Aristotle, and that fellow Dorian, near as I can remember." "Groupie?" One eyebrow did a wild dance as he stopped in a pool of orange streetlamp light. "Well, kind of." She continued walking, not even glancing behind to see if he was following her. "And are you afflicted?" He was suddenly in front of her, looking amused as all hell. "You've been listening to rumours again." She waggled a finger, steadfastly ignoring the subject. "Don't be silly. While it has been posited that I have a mad crush on you, which--before you get a swelled head--I *don't*, I do genuinely like you." She grinned. "And you were always around." she added with a shrug. "Until now." "And *this* is supposed to induce me to come back?" "Are you telling me I'm not inducement enough?" she raised a brow suggestively, and stepped around him. He blinked. "And you wonder why there are rumours," he muttered. "You know you love the attention." She whispered, and then broke out in laughter that was anything but seductive. "You're too easy. What I want to know, though, is what is with the mai-tais?" "Ladies first," Miklos held open the door of the club, and Tara slipped inside. "See? Isn't it nice to be back?" "You're a nuisance, has anyone ever told you that?" "My mother used to call me obstreperous, does that count?" she winked. Jessica looked up from her pad of drawing paper, green eyes wide. "You came back!" the little girl seemed delighted, and Miklos sighed dramatically. "I can with the nuisance." he jerked his head in Tara's direction. "Good work," Jane grinned. "How'd you manage it, finally?" "I just turned on my considerable charms." "She guilt-tripped me." Miklos clarified. "That too," Tara agreed, and headed to the back room to change into the long black dress she'd worn the night before. Miklos slipped behind the bar, surprised at how much he felt at home there, after all his protestations. He scanned the bar, noting the various Ravens, and his gaze finally settled on Janette. She raised her glass, and that was that. He was back. ********************************************************************* They can't be monkeys! Where are their wings? (4/4) By Lane Lombardia Primate Area, Toronto Zoo, Toronto Thursday, August 1st, 10pm The N&NPackers crept into the monkey enclosure with an admirable level of stealth, the concealed mercenary noted. The only item that seemed out of place, as near as the N&Npackers could tell was a tarp covered block, much too small to hide a full- grown human being; but, large enough to stand upon. Slowly unwrapping himself from the false rock cluster (his muscles were so sore that slowly was all he could manage), the mercenary stood, and walked over to the N&Npackers, placing himself between them and the tarp-covered block. He smiled the sort of evil smile that LaCroix was wont to wear. One of the N&NPackers approached, demanding to have whatever information he had. The smiling mercenary softly told them that it was known that Nick used a 100-series PowerBook, and that it was almost certainly secured by RSA Secure or some other product that allowed the encryption of the entire hard drive. He continued, pointing out that while everyone was going about busily, looking for a physical book, that the item that everyone seemed to be seeking could easily be something like a leather case of Zip disks, and then held out a brown leather case for 3.5 inch magnetic media. As they lunged for him, he jumped back, onto the tarp-covered block, which turned out to be an air ram. Air rams are tiny, pneumatic catapults used by stunt-people to allow them to jump further that would otherwise be humanly possible. With a pronounced thump, the mercenary was thrown out of the monkey area, landing on an airbag that had been inflated after the N&NPackers had entered the enclosure. At that moment, a tiny wireless transmitter fitted to the air ram fired off. At that moment, bedlam ensued. Det cord severed the locks on the doors keeping the monkeys blocked out of the main enclosure, and speakers in the peripheral areas began playing the roars of every predator a monkey instinctively knowns to fear. A riot of terrified monkeys burst into the main enclosure, running straight for the N&Npackers, though whether they sought the sanctuary of humans or were simply crazed with fear and running in that direction wasn't clear. Still, that wasn't the worst . Passing through high velocity nozzles, a truly loathsome and vile torrent of ribena and garlic oil, powered by high-pressure jet-pumps, streamed forth. Every square inch of the monkey enclosure, and everything in it, was drenched in a combination of materials calculated to offend everyone even Screed. Seconds later, the onslaught was over. The N&Npackers looked as if they were smeared in jam; but, were quite a bit less fragrant than that, as the overpowering sweetness of the ribena completely clashed with the strong garlic oil. Epilog: The chocolate-filled canollis (I don't know how to spell them, and I couldn't find it in a dictionary) were delivered the next morning to Merc Headquarters. Lane took the box to Dianne's office, knocked on the door, and when granted permission, entered. Taking out the portion that was needed to cover Guild dues and placing them on Dianne's desk, he turned and left, in search of Jamie. When he found the illustrated one, he set the box in front of her, smiled, then left. ********************************************************************* Flashbacks, Conversations and Resurrections (1/2) Place: CERK HQ Time: Sunday (Aug. 4th) Eve. (10pm) Author: Dawn Steele (h36a@unb.ca) -- Merc. The eagle swept across the broad ceiling in an instant, and landed on LaCroix's outstretched arm. Seeking a more secure grip, claws dug into and through the fine black silk shirt. Smoothing down a feather, LaCroix inspected his latest pet. It looked as though his minions were taking good care of him -- even though they were unreliable at times. He could feel the light touch of the trailing leather jesses. As always, the feel of leather wisping across his flesh... made him think of Urs. A brief flashback occurred between one sweep of the eagles feathers and the next. A conversation with Nicholas even as his daughter burned, and a visit to a cold, dark morgue the following night. Then with a sigh, LaCroix concentrated on the present. Bad things seemed to happen to him when he had long flashbacks during wartime. Speaking of unreliable minions however... LaCroix depressed a button that sent a remote signal to another part of the building. Turning to the windows, he watched the steel blinds open at the touch of another button. He heard feet approach the door to his office, stop, and then the unmistakeable sound of a silver flask being opened for a quick drink. LaCroix sighed. The sad fact was that Lisa McDavid, drunk as she usually was, remained one of the most mentally stable of all his followers -- and that wasn't saying much. She entered the office without knocking; as usual. "Did you remember to take care of the blood transfer today?" Cousin Lisa peered back into her alcohol soaked memories, and searched for the accomplishment of a certain unpleasant task that LaCroix had dumped on her as soon as she'd arrived in Toronto. It was conspicuously absent. "No." She offered with a grimace. "I can do it right now I suppose." "Now." When LaCroix's voice held that tone, his followers either liquified into puddles of bliss, or jumped to try and accomplish his wishes as quickly as possible -- sometimes they tried to do both. * * * "Do this, do that... " Cousin Lisa muttered as she took another healthy slug from her bottomless flash of virtual Zombie Beachcomers. The world had sharpened to an unpleasant coherency for a few minutes there, but she was well on her way to another night of pleasantly reckless inebriation. Unbeknownst to Lisa, two other Cousins were slumped into couches out of sight, and overhearing every word. Ears perking up, their instincts were crying out that an could be in sight. erica and Bianca were currently in disgrace. The only reason that LaCroix hadn't kicked them out of CERK HQ was that he wanted to keep an eye on them. Of course, the drawback of not kicking them out of CERK HQ was... that they were still CERK HQ, and becoming a triffle bored (always a dangerous state). Cousin Lisa had by this point consumed enough of her liquid nourishment that she was starting to entertain fantasies of certain things that could happen to a certain Master Vampire. Wrapped up in these pleasant images, she was totally unaware of erica and Bianca following her. Flight after flight of stairs passed by in a fictionally quick blur. Bianca and erica slipped through the secret door Lisa had just entered instants before it closed again. Open the flask, take a drink, close the flask and put it away. This was repeated a couple of times as Cousin Lisa stared at a large metal container shaped suspiciously like a coffin. She opened up the metal door on the top, and peered within. After rolling up the sleeve of her right arm, she deeped it into the pool of blood inside. Cousin Lisa swiped around for a minute before finally catching hold of something inside. With a groan of effort she pulled it up into view. Hand gripped deep into a pile of red-tinged platinum curls, Cousin Lisa lifted Urs' head and limp upper body out of its nourishing blood bath. (erica started jumping up and down in the background, silently mouthing screams of delight and pointing Urs out to Bianca despite her sister having a better view than she did.) "You're looking pretty good... " Lisa tilted Urs' headed this way and back. "Pretty much all healed up." Urs' body slipped back into the blood when Cousin Lisa let go of the hair. It was time to get on with the weekly blood exchange. Turning a spigot at the bottom of the casket, a fountain of blood sprayed out (with numerous droplets wreaking yet of Cousin Lisa's shirts), and into the drain below. With a sigh of annoyance, the leader of the Cousins got onto the annoying part. She went into the corner, and picked up one of the bottles of blood. After removing the cork, she poured it in. Repeat, repeat, repeat... erica and Bianca left Cousin Lisa to this mindless task. Urs was alive... well sort of. At least she hadn't been cremated as some of the Urs-haters had tried to claim. They had to do something about the situation! For a brief millisecond, they considered that something about the situation might get them into even worse trouble than they were already in. Fortunately for part 2/2 of this little story, they both rejected that thought as totally unworthy of them. erica pulled out a scrap of paper where she had scribbled some names down. "are you thinking what i'm thinking?" "That we should call up all the Urchin sympathisers, concoct a wildly insane plan to revive Urs, and then get her into safety?" "that was pretty much it." "Then what are you waiting for? It's been at least a day since we got into trouble." end of part 1/2 -- so I don't actually to have them call everybody up. It'll be a surprise for part 2/2! :) ********************************************************************* Looking For One Good Wombat By Elizabeth Ann Lewis Thursday, August 1st, 10 PM (well after all the rat posts) The Morrigna Sisters Secret Command Center Lizbet settled into a seat in the deserted command center with a heartfelt groan. The past few days had been utterly insane. Socks, busts, rats, delusional women/Cousins/vampires, ducking Dianne who wanted dues and Sara who wanted rent, facing LaCroix angry and the persistent longing for crackers was pushing Lizbet to the edge of her precarious sanity. But she had ignored a job for too long, and this was job that would solve more than a few problems. Pursing her lips, she whistled an intricate melody. Within five minutes Toni aka Ma Wombat appeared like the proverbial Genii (except she wasn't blue like the genii in Aladdin... or like Dawn the day before." "Lizbet!" she said, brightening. "I thought you had forgotten all about me!" Lizbet smiled at her friend. "Nope, I haven't forgotten. I even have a job for you." "Even though I can't morph?" Ma said sadly. "I think I figured that out. The Highlander universe and the FK one work on different laws of physics. You can morph between human and wombat there, but here you are stuck in human form. Whatever. You are still a good sneaker. Want a job?" Ma looked at her craftily. "What are you going to pay me?" "What do you think?" Ma looked lit from within with pleasure. "Pepsi and peeps?!?!?!?" Lizbet grinned. "*Lavender* peeps." Nearly dissolving into a puddle on the floor, Ma sighed. "Whatever you want, I'll do it." Lizbet urged her closer. "Here's the plan..." ---------------- Toni Mandry aka Ma Wombat used with her permission... ********************************************************************* WE *LOVE* MONKEYS Susan B./Nick&Natpack Thurs. Aug. 1st 10:15 PM Metro Toronto Zoo, Primate Area -------------------------------- (immediately follows "They Can't be Monkeys! Where are Their Wings? by Lane Lombardia) Mel, Chana, Carrie, Kelly, Debbi, Sun, Tina, Pat and Heather all decided to take part in this mission, not only because of their *shear* dedication to the cause, but because they all *loved* animals. They were extremely suspicious, and rightly so as things turned out. But never ones to be caught unawares, they went fully equipped with ropes, lock picks, and assorted sundry. It was pretty amusing watching that Merc catapult himself out of the monkey enclosure and land on that air bag. Poor guy was walking sort of funny too - like he'd been hiding himself in a terribly uncomfortable position for hours. The ribena and garlic oil bath was fun (even made some of us hungry), but being able to play with all those monkeys was great!! How *lucky* to actually be able to get *into* the cage and play with them! It's not too often that happens, unless you happen to work at a zoo. There were some awful scary sounds coming from the speakers, but the monkeys were so excited to see us - they didn't even notice!!! Unfortunately, we were only able to stay and play for a few minutes before Mel gave us the order to leave the main enclosure . We all sadly trundled off through the secondary enclosure, the locks already thoughtfully severed by the Merc. Heather had no problem picking the simple lock on the door into the hallway that the zookeepers use. The ribena and garlic reminded us all of how wonderfully opposites attract - ribena and garlic, sweet and sour, vampire and mortal, Nick & Nat. Isn't war wonderful! ********************************************************************* A Good Night's Sleep (01/01) By Ravens Cynthia, Jane and Catherine Date: Thursday, August 1, 1996 at 11:00 p.m. Directly following Powers of Persuasion 3/3 Business at the Raven was booming. The volume and the bass of the music had been turned up as high as possible. The clientele were forced to shout at each other, if they wanted to be heard over the music. Catherine had finally given up reading for the night. She had been trying to read Anthony Trollope's "The Eustace Diamonds". Unfortunately, the Raven was noisy and the book was boring. Bad combination. So, she joined Tami, Cynthia and Jane at a table in the back, keeping one eye on the door to see whether a certain goth boy in a kilt might appear again. Cynthia was asking Jane about women's shelters in Toronto, and whether one of them would be interested in a clothing donation. The discussion gradually changed (under Cynthia's direction) to a comparison of battered women's shelters and rape crisis centres. A hand reached out and grabbed Tami's sleeve. "Mommy?" Tami turned around and pulled Jessica closer. "What's wrong, Princess?" "It's too noisy. I can't fall asleep. Can you ask them to turn it down, please?" "I can't do that. Do you want me to come back and read you a story? Will that help?" "No." Jessica rubbed her eyes and leaned her head on Tami's shoulder. "It's just too loud." Tami ruffled her daughter's hair and looked at the others. "This is the third night in a row. Maybe I need to get her out of here and rent a hotel room for the rest of the war? She can't stay up every night." "You don't have to do that." Jane said. "Why don't you get Jessica's stuff together, and I'll make a phone call. I know a place where you can go where there are lots of families with children." They got up from the table and disappeared into the back room. The three returned five minutes later, with car keys and bags. Jessica, sketch pad tucked under her arm, made the rounds of the table, kissing everyone good night and promising to come back the next day with pictures for each of them. Tami stayed silent. She wasn't sure when she was going to bring Jessica back. *** A little while later, Jane returned alone and rejoined the table. "Everything okay?" Cynthia asked. "Sure. Got them there okay. Tami was reading Jess a bedtime story when I left." "So, where did you take them?" Catherine asked absent-mindedly as she stood up -- her eyes fixed on the goth boy heading towards her across the dance floor. "Some place quiet." Jane picked up Cynthia's diet coke and drank the last of it. "So, did you figure out which shelter we want to take the clothes to?" ********************************************************************* Talking to the Dead Partly - Perkulators Thurs. 8/1 - 11 pm Partly waited in the darkness outside Tracy's old apartment. Robin and Kristina were stationed across the block, and the rest of the Perks were left back at the hotel, blissfully unaware of what was going on. Partly had decided to do this with as little fanfare as possible, just in case it *wasn't* an attack in the war. She checked her watch. Ten after. Maybe no one will show. She reached down into the large bag she carried and scratched Willow's ears. The kitten had made such a fuss, crying and wailing, that Partly was forced to bring her along. Since she had arrived this morning, Willow hadn't let Partly out of her sight. She now sat purring contently in a soft, warm carryall. Partly waved to her backups, sitting in the car. Five more minutes, she flashed the signal they had arranged. She saw Robin's reply and settled down to wait more. "I wondered if you would come alone." A voice came from behind her. "How many did you bring?" Partly whirled around and stared at the figure, cloaked in darkness, who was standing behind her. The voice certainly sounded like Tracy. "Who are you?" She demanded. Partly could make out blonde hair under a black hat. The figure looked toward the car. "I see two. They seemed to be unsure about what they should do." Partly turned back to the street. Robin had gotten out of the car, Kristina was following. "How about if you all come in for a drink?" The figure turned, opened the door to the apartment building, and went inside. She paused, holding the door open. "Are you coming?" In the light from the hallway, Partly clearly saw the woman's face. It was Tracy. She fought for control for a moment, then picked up her bag and went inside, signalling for Robin and Kristina to follow. Tracy -- or the Tracy look-alike -- was all the way up the stairs before the two Perks got there. "What's going on?" Kristina asked. Partly shrugged "She certainly looks like Tracy. We'll find out. She wants to have something to drink." She pointed up the stairs. Tracy's apartment looked much the same as the last time Partly had been there, but it was missing something. It took her a moment, then she placed it. There were no pictures or mementos, no little homey touches. Just a hotel room-like atmosphere. Partly watched as Tracy got out glasses and ice. Even the kitchen looked half-stocked. Tracy looked up from the refrigerator at the three nervous Perks. "Is wine, OK?" She was holding wine glasses and a bottle. "That's all I have right now." Partly nodded, and noticed the refrigerator was empty except for bottles. She looked at Tracy again. "Who are you?" Tracy smiled. "I'm Tracy Vetter." She poured three glasses of wine and handed them to the Perks. "Tracy's dead." Partly said. "She was killed in the line of duty." It sounded corny but it was all she could think of. Kristina and Robin seemed willing to let her do all the talking. Willow suddenly stuck her head out of the bag and meowed. Before Partly could grab her she ran across the countertop and rubbed against Tracy. Tracy, as if it were natural to have kittens come out of her guest's bags, casually picked up Willow and began petting her. "Look at me. Do I look dead to you?" Partly had to admit she didn't. And if she were an imposter, she was doing a damn good job. "But I'll prove it to you. Ask me a question. Ask me anything." The Perks looked at each other. Questions they had. They had gotten together and thought up about fifty question that only Tracy would know the answer to. Partly asked the first one, then Kristina, then Robin, then back to Partly. A half an hour later, Tracy hadn't missed one. "Satisfied? Any more?" Tracy asked. "No. YES." Partly fingered her glass. "I mean, how did you survive? And why did you let everyone think you're dead?" She stared accusingly at her friend. "I went to your *grave*." "I can't tell you how I survived." Tracy shrugged. "But by the time I was able to tell anyone, I didn't know how. Nick and Nat had disappeared and I didn't know what to do." Tracy paused and refilled their glasses. "I was just going to leave town, when I saw some of Nat's out of town friends going in and out of her apartment. I followed them trying to find out what happened. Then, I decided to send you some mail, hoping that you would come up here." "You know where Nat is?" Kristina asked. "Not right now," Tracy said. She looked at Partly. "You knew Nick was a vampire. And Vachon. And Nat knew too, didn't she?" Tracy didn't wait for answer. "You knew all of that and you didn't tell me." "It wasn't for me to tell, Trace." Partly said. "I told you what I could." Tracy nodded. "I was so sure you all played me for a fool. I was just going to walk out and start over." "So why are we here?" Robin got right to the point. "Because I have to find out about Nat. I couldn't walk away with all the loose ends that are here." "What about your friends? Do we count as one of the loose ends?" "You're here aren't you?" Tracy said. She looked at the almost empty bottle in her hand. "Do you want the last?" Partly shook her head. "You haven't had any yet." "I didn't want any." Tracy said. "I don't drink wine." Partly stared at her again. Tracy met her stare evenly. Partly looked away first. She suddenly thought of something. "Do you know about Vachon?" A look of pain crossed Tracy's face. "Vachon is dead." "No. He's not. He's back at the church." Partly was beginning to think that there had been quite a few revivals this war. "He didn't die. And I've heard rumors that Nick is around somewhere, too." Tracy didn't say anything, and Partly continued. "If you are Tracy, you can't expect us not to tell people that your alive. What about your family?" "If my family would cared about *me* rather than their image of me, they would have known that it wasn't me in the casket, don't you think?" Partly didn't have an answer to that. Tracy continued. "Have you seen Vachon? Are you sure he's all right?" Kristina spoke up. "It's true the Vaqueros brought him back. Something about having removed the stake. It was enough to bring him back to normal, but not enough to destroy him." "Did Nick know that could be done?" Tracy's voice held an edge of anger. "I don't think Nick knew." Partly hoped he didn't, at least. "It was a slim chance at best, and one that already got someone hurt." She thought about Diane in the hospital. Silence reigned for a minute, only Willow's purring filled the room. "So, what do you want us to do?" Partly asked. "I don't know." Tracy suddenly looked tired. "If Vachon is alive--" She ran a hand through her hair. "Look, Tracy." It was Robin who spoke. "You've got two choices: leave or let people know you're alive. You can't hide forever, even in Toronto. I mean, how do you manage to live here?" "I'm not here very often. And I told my neighbors and the landlord that my death was faked as part of an undercover operation." Tracy shrugged. "It wasn't hard." Silence followed again and Willow left her comfortable spot by Tracy and climbed into Partly's carryall again. Then Tracy spoke. "I've got to think about this. I'll call you in a couple of days." She walked to the door, picking up her coat and hat. The Perks reluctantly followed. While Tracy's back was turned, Partly grabbed the wine bottle and placed it in the bag next to Willow. Tracy locked up after them, and they waited for her to lead them down the steps. At the outer door they all stopped, wanting to say something, but not at all sure what. "Don't tell anyone about me yet." Tracy finally said. "How could we?" Partly said. "We're not even sure...." "That I'm Tracy." Tracy finished for her. "How can we be? You won't even tell us what happened to you." "I can't." "Or won't." Partly challenged. Tracy sighed. "The last time you were here, you asked me to accept you on faith. That you just couldn't explain asking you for that same faith now. I can't tell you. Please don't ask." Partly thought back to the last war, back when she was the only Perk and when she managed to drag Tracy through all the war without have to explain things she just couldn't explain. She wasn't sure if she could do the same. But she would try. She stuck out her hand. "I'll ask you no questions." "And I'll tell you no lies." Tracy shook her hand. Partly had an eerie sense of deja vu. Tracy smiled. "Thank you." Partly, Robin and Kristina started back to the car. They had just the street when Partly turned back. Tracy was gone. She grabbed Robin's arm. "Where did she go?" They did a quick search of the area but they couldn't find Tracy. Finally giving up they walked back to the car. "She must have dodged into the bushes or behind a building." Kristina said. "Perhaps she just ran around the corner," Robin suggested. "Or she could have flown." Partly looked at both of them. "I mean, we've only seen her at night. And she didn't have anything to eat or drink when we were there. Maybe she *was* brought across." "If it was really her." Robin said. Partly took the bottle out of her bag. "Well, I got fingerprints. We'll know soon enough." They climbed into the car and drove away. ********************************************************************* On the Carpet (01/01) By Gehirn Karies and Leslie GrantSmith, Cousins Thursday, 8/1 -- evening After "Night of the Living Emoti-spammed (01/01)" Being called on the carpet by LaCroix is something not even a couple of CERK Jerks get a real kick out of. On the other hand, he probably wouldn't kill them and he probably would say something that would send delighted little frissons of pleasure up their spines every time they thought about it for weeks to follow. And Leslie was demented enough to not really care exactly what he was saying as long as she got a chance to watch his lips move. "When I gave you permission to go into Nicholas's home, I did not give you leave to ransack his property," he began, eyeing the two women sternly. "The book. You were to search for the book only." "Well, and then there was the matter of the signa--" Karies corrected, only to close her mouth as he raised a warning finger. "Hush," he said quietly. "Hush? The Gen'ral tells me to hush?" Karies muttered. "You say the ... Knightie, Kathy Whelton, recovered his vehicle, his credit card and his mail." "Uhm, not the mail, but yeah, she's returned the bike, and the card," affirmed Karies, Leslie nodding agreement. "Oh, and she sent you these. A gift." With a flutter of black and white, Karies flicked out the silky boxers to lay flat on his desk before him. "How ... udderly charming," he drawled, smirking. He whisked Kathy's offering into a drawer on his desk. Then, he leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers and tapping the index fingers against his upper lip. "How long were you in possession of his credit card?" Shrugging, Karies replied, "Oh, just a few hours." "And what purchases did you make on it?" "Just the strippers," Leslie blurted. "Strippers," LaCroix repeated flatly and decided he didn't want to know. "And how many copies of the card did you have made in that delightful little establishment where you spent the afternoon with my dear friend Thomas?" "The `Dechlorinated Horse' on Deer Ridge?" "Yes, the `Dechlorinated Horse' on Deer Ridge," LaCroix repeated, exasperated. What bar did they think he meant? He failed to notice the glazing over of the two women's eyes. "Copies. How many copies did you have made?" "Can you get copies of credit cards made?" Karies queried. "Cool. I'll have to remember that." "Give it up." He rubbed his fingers together greedily. "Hmmmnnn? What?" Karies looked disinterested. He growled, "You can't lie to me, Gehirn Karies. You're not capable." Defeated, she reached into her back pocket and pulled out a Platinum card made out in the name of Nicholas B. Knight, and handed it to him. He placed it in the middle of the blotter on his desk and silently held his hand out again, palm up. She gazed at him blankly, and the snap of his fingers in the silence made Leslie jump and Karies grind her teeth.. Karies reached into her other back pocket and pulled out another card. It joined the first on the desk. LaCroix wiggled his fingers and a third card appeared. As it joined the stack, Leslie, overcome by nervousness, began to hum quietly under her breath. A fourth and a fifth card were handed over, before the other two occupants of the room noticed her little tune, the seductive strains of the strippers' anthem. Both Karies and LaCroix turned to glare at her, and she shut up, grinning apologetically. "I don't suppose you have a little offering for the sacrificial pile here, do you?" he asked, lips curving in a cool smile. "Um...." Leslie replied intelligently, and stepping forward she unzipped her fanny pack and disgorged its contents onto his desk, never taking her eyes from his mouth. He sat back with an expression of bemused exasperation at the clutter on his desk, a little black statuette wearing a jaunty white tie spinning on its back for a moment. She handed over her card, and both women's faces fell in defeat. Scooping up her property with a slightly sullen expression, Leslie stepped back away from the desk again. "And just what else did you take?" "Nothing," they responded in rapid unison. His eyebrows rose alarmingly. "Nicholas is a man of memorabilia. He is quite ... fond of his belongings. I wouldn't want him to ... hold this against me." "Oh, you want him to hold it against you, all right," Karies mumbled. "Enough! You two may be sober at last, but you are pathetic soldiers." "Uh, really, we're more like flunkies, eh Leslie? Yeah, we're just flunkies." "Flunkies, sure, flunkies works. Or stooges. I prefer Thugs, actually, in that the word originally derives from the Hindi `thugi', a follower of a Dark Force." Befuddled, LaCroix rubbed his temples, grimacing under a stress headache. "I thought you guys didn't get headaches?" "We don't, normally, but I seem to have a newfound propensity towards them. And the Spaniard's bike?" "We took care of it." "It won't come back to haunt us?" LaCroix asked, arching his brows. Karies leaned forward. "Do you, like, pluck those or what?" "Get out," he growled, closing his eyes and wondering if he had anything in his wine cellar obtained from someone who died of an aspirin overdose. They slouched their way out of CERK, looking much grumpier now than when they went in. When they reached the sidewalk, they both took a deep breath, sliding little sideways grins at each other. In unison, they bent over and pulled a Platinum card each out of a sock. "Karies, don't you ever think before you ask such stupid questions?" Leslie inquired as they sauntered toward the Voyager. "Of course not. Then it wouldn't be stupid, it would be tactically inept. It got us thrown out, didn't it?" "Yeah." "Then you should be grateful. He's right, you know." "What?" "We *are* sober." A wicked Cousinly grin stretched across their features. As they climbed into the Voyager, Leslie said, "Before we hit a bar, you need to drive me by the church so I can drop off the keys to Vachon's bike." "You're nuts." "This is new to you?" "But-but what if Vachon is there?" "Then I'll apologize to him personally." "Blonde," Karies muttered as she started up the van. "Waaay too frolicking blonde." "Who's blind?" Marg asked, piling into the back seat. "Who invited you guys?" Karies sneered. "I can smell a car headed to the clubs a mile away," Julie volunteered. "All right, but don't forget our mission." "Intoxication?" "Close." Karies put the van it drive and swung it into a wild U turn, scrambling her passengers. "Hey, where are we going?" Julie demanded. "The bars are *that* way." "Yeah, well, Leslie needs to do something first, before she starts drinking and regains a little common sense," Karies snarked. "Kaaaaries, sheesh, I'm gonna walk up and put the keys in the mailbox. I'm not gonna ring the doorbell and ask if I can come in for tea." "Yah, well, Vachon would probably loooove to have you in for tea." "He's Spanish. I don't think they do the tea-thang. Lunch, maybe." Karies turned to stare at Leslie, who stared back at her -- . Karies shuddered and hunched over the wheel. She needed to get her friend to a bar. Fast. Parked outside the church, engine running, Karies sweated, visions of emoticons with long flowing hair swirling in her brain, as Leslie calmly hopped out, walked to the mailbox and dropped in an envelope. The woman waved at the geese, who honked at her greedily, recognizing The Bringer of Cheetos, then sauntered back to the van. Sliding in to the front passenger seat, she chortled, "Okay, guys, let's go ... Nightcrawlin'!" Fin ********************************************************************* Nightflyer by Sarah Houghton, Vaquera Time: Thursday, 8/1 evening, after "On the Carpet" Location: Vachon's church, then to Raven, and back again "I'm g-g-going for the mail", Sarah called out. Broom-swatting geese out of the way, she slid toward the temporary mailbox beyond the gate. //I'm going to have to buy a new pair of boots when I get home. These are gonna havta be burned. Okay, what've we got here. Bills. Bills. Resident. Oh goody, ten million dollar finalist. Keys? And a note. Omigod. The Triumph. At the Raven. Go get it!// Sarah started running down the street in the direction of the Raven, then skidded to a stop, her long brown hair whipping around her face and hanging over her eyes. //Moron. Leave a note.// Stuffing the keys and note into her jeans pocket, the brunette turned and ran back to the gate, grabbed the broom, and swept geese left and right in her haste to get to the front door. She found a scrap of paper and a pen and scrawled: Gone to Raven to pick up the Triumph. //Boy, I hope they can read that. Doubt it, though.//She quickly tacked it to the wall near the door. //Can't lose a wall, can you? Can't bring the broom back across.// Sighing, she struggled her way back to the street, and ran pell-mell toward the Raven. ##### ##### ##### ##### (about 10 minutes later) Sarah handed money to the cabbie and exited the rear passenger door of the car. //Lucky break.// She chuckled. //The cabbie must have felt sorry for me--fool running down the sidewalk like I was being chased by a rabid cheetah. It worked though, cause here I am. The Raven. Gulp. I'm not going in. No way. Besides, the Ravens and Ravenettes are probably in there.// The girl jogged over to the motorcycle in front of the Raven, and kneeled to examine it. //Who knows what those Cousins did to it or with it?// She ran her fingers gently over its sides and underneath, checking for dents and scratches. //None I can see and feel. Whew.// "Ahem." Sarah looked up, and an elderly man peered disapprovingly down at her. //He probably thinks I'm a wierdo or something. He'd be right.//"Um, hi." "What are you doing, young lady?" He adjusted his spectacles, brushed invisible germs from his suitjacket, and frowned. //When in doubt, lie.// "Checking my bike for dents." The reaction on the man's face was obvious. Sarah got up, dusted herself briefly, and took out the keys. //He believes me, but disapproves of girls on motorcycles. I gotta get this guy to leave!// "G-got a p-pr-problem with that, dude?" "Harrumph." The man stomped off, shaking his head in consternation. //At least I look the part. The delinquent look--black everything, leather jacket, and long hair.// //Whew. And I didn't even stutter that badly. That's points, right there.// She swung one leg over the seat, and settled herself. //No one to the left. No one to the right. Cool. Keys in the ignition. Okay, brakes *here*. Clutch *here*. Gas throttle *here*. Starter, starter, starter.... Oh. A jump-start.// Sarah shifted into neutral, turned on the gas, and jumped on the starter. "VRRRROOOOOMMMMMMM." //Oooooooohhhhhhhhh. This is *so* cool. Enough gas in the tank. Back the way we came now. Not too fast, not too slow. I don't want to attract police attention. Hope Toronto doesn't have a helmet law.// Shifting into first gear, Sarah eased the Triumph into a position to pull out into traffic. Checking quickly to both sides, she slid the Triumph smoothly into the flow of cars. Shifting up, she headed back toward Vachon's church. And safety. ##### ##### ##### ##### (about 10 minutes later) //Almost there. No problems. This feels like flying--the closest I can get without going Vampire Air. Wonder if anyone saw my note.// The Triumph purred as Sarah guided it toward the church. Pulling over, she eased it to a stop, ignoring the frenzied squawking of the geese. //Shift to neutral, and ignition off. Kickstand down. Cool.// She cheered, pleased. //A job well done.// Some Vaqueras quickly appeared at the door, battle-ready. Then broke out in cheers. FIN. ********************************************************************* Out of Commission by Lisa McDavid 11 p. m. Monday, July 29th through about midnight. The last scene takes place at sunrise on Friday morning. Lisa McDavid was starting to fidget. Richard -- when someone takes you to Azure for dinner, you quickly get on a first name basis -- would be finished signing the credit card receipt in less than a minute, but her ride hadn't yet shown up. Her instincts had been correct. Richard Vetter's hints about accompanying him home to see his collection of police memorabilia were getting more and more heavy-handed. She couldn't afford a vindictive commissioner in war time. So where the -- Just then the cavalry galloped, well, hopped to the rescue. A mini-bus driven by Screed pulled up outside the pale blue glass front wall that made everything outside look faintly subterranean. Seventeen kangaroos disembarked and filed into the restaurant. Wait a minute! Seventeen? Lisa counted. Twelve jurors, four alternates and a huge male roo in a bush jacket and Crocodile Dundee hat. Lisa gulped. Dawkins -- did blooper script characters count as part of the FK universe? She could only hope. Never mind. She'd just sit quietly at the table as they surrounded her and carried her out of the door. Richard couldn't possibly blame her - - "You, driver! Get these wild beasts out of here *now*!" Vetter was shouting out the door, but he was audible all over the restaurant. Screed's reply was intelligible to Lisa only because she'd found that idiom in the Russian dictionary one day while looking for something else. Dawkins' response, unfortunately, required no interpretation. "Who're you calling a wild beast, you stinking *mammal*?" roared the kangaroo in an Antipodean accent that made Paul Hogan sound like a BBC newsreader, just before he punched the police commissioner in the jaw. Vetter flew ten feet and crashed into a cart of dirty dishes. Lisa ran for the door, yelling for Screed, while the kangaroos made the most of their revenge. Several of them commandeered the desert cart. Others played leapfrog across the tables. One of them, having burnt his foot on a table candle, kicked the offending globe right up the the ceiling. That was when the sprinkler system (a misnomer for a sudden flood) went off and the fire alarm deafened everybody. Who knew kangaroos have sensitive ears? Everybody except Dawkins, who was yelling that he would *not* go back to somewhere and pummeling the commissioner, swept back out to the mini-bus. Lisa was genuinely caught up in the tide. Before she could remonstrate, two of the marsupials had hurled her under one of the seats and Screed had taken the bus off at warp speed. By the time Lisa clambered out from under the seat they had a police escort. Five blue-and-whites, all with sirens screaming. Screed yelped something about his ears hurting and switched on the radio. Of course, since they had just screeched around a corner and onto the long hill which had given Schanke such a roller-coaster ride in Dark Knight, it was simply fated that the radio would be playing the same music. Down they swept, slipping and sliding, as Screed and the kangaroos tapped their feet in time and sang along. "Ya-Ya polka!" The police cars gained. In fact, their blue lights made the inside of the mini-bus feel like K-Mart on sale day. Lisa had just finished praying to all the saints and promising to be a paragon of virtue henceforth -- "Ya-Ya polka!" -- when the bus shot off the road into -- "Ya-Ya polka!" a small park. Everything would have been fine if the alley hadn't happened to contain a number of people in black face masks (and nothing else), a black-robed figure with horns, and a black-draped picnic table on which a goat was tied down amid a lopsided pattern of candles. Blackrobe had a knife raised over the goat. As it was, the bus careened into the group, splintered the table and shot out the other side of the park with the goat bleating wildly as a hood ornament. The cop cars (six of them now) hurtled after them. Screed yelled something that sounded like ship ahoy, turned down a side street and shot straight toward Lake Ontario. He had enough time to turn. The police cars didn't. Even over the polka, stamping kangaroos and Screed's highly Elizabethan English, Lisa heard the splash as all six cars went into the water. After that, her homecoming was relatively tame. She paid off Screed and the kangaroos, sending Abby's cut with them, and let herself into CERK. The goat tried to follow her in. When she evicted it, she was bitten. ******************************************************************* Midnight, as Thursday Aug. 1st becomes Friday Aug. 2nd, through midnight as Sunday, Aug. 4th The bite marks from the goat, which had scarred in a strange pattern much like those on the picnic table altar, woke Lisa. Her hand was throbbing where the goat had chomped her and the scars were red. She didn't remember anything more. Striding into the operations room with blazing red-purple eyes which shot fire left no impression. Neither did calling Lacroix, in a voice like the base in a concert sound system, to come out and fight didn't register. She didn't even have any impressions of proclaiming herself Belial and demanding that the Cousins worship her. It was to be days before she remembered anything at all, which was just as well. Padded cells and straightjackets are so boring, even if your occupant does busy himself with turning your head around like a top and levitating you onto the ceiling. ****************************************************************** Note: I will be back Monday. In Real Life I have to go out of town, so just figure my persona's possessed and locked up during that time. ********************************************************************* Nightcrawlin' (01/02) By Gehirn Karies and Leslie GrantSmith, Cousins Time: Friday, 8/2, midnight After: On the Carpet (01/01) As they sauntered up to the club-intended, a grating high pitched humming rose in the car, turning into a screech. "Marg, Marg!" Leslie spoke with mommy-tone. "Reverb, major reverb." "Oh, sorry, Gals." Marg tried to adjust the wailing. "That's funny, I'm getting a weird signal." Looking across the club, Karies cursed. "I know why Marg is reverberating." "I don't think that's the proper use of the word," Leslie corrected. "Oh, well, we could debate it, or you could shut the--" "Gals, gals, this is killing me, do you mind?" Marg grimaced. "Nurse Nancy!" Karies bellowed, draping an arm around the drooped shoulders of Kathy Whelton, dejected Knightie, and knocking the Knightie's purse off the chair back with a finger. "Why are you not at the loft comparing new sock purchases with the rest of the Knighties?" Marg scrambled for Kathy's purse, nabbing it before it hit the floor, taking out the mini wireless transmitter and switching it off. "How'd you know.... Oh, never mind. They're all mad at me. They're all ... mad." "I could have told you that," Marg remarked snidely with an evil grin. "They don't deserve you, they are not worthy," Leslie chuckled. "You!" Kathy spat. "I'm gonna get you, woman!" "Oh, Kathy, an angry Knightie, I'm shaking in my boots." Leslie caught the waiter. "Beer and a shot, a gin and tonic, a pina colada, Kamikaze, a double. And another for our friend here. You doing slammers, Kathy?" "You're not mad at me ... for the spamming?" "Naw, it is War after all, fair is fair." The waiter placed the drinks in front of the Cousins and the lone Knightie. Kathy slammed her shot and breathed through clenched teeth. "I love you guys," Kathy slurred, draping her arms around Karies and Julie. "Hey, hey! Kathy, please, remember, affection is a sign of attack, sheeesh." "What we're looking for isn't here," Leslie whispered. "Let's knock these back and move on!!!" "Yeah." Julie nodded. "Hey, look another Knightie." "It's Suze," Kathy mumbled. "I think she's on suicide watch." The Cousins moaned. "Dead Knightie walkin'!" Karies teased. "Get away from her ... you, you ... Jerks!" Suze theatened, looking like a determined Teddy Bear. "Chill, Miss Thang!" Karies grinned, rising to her feet, enjoying the fact that she was easily taller than all the other gals. Marg jumped up, took a fighting Aikido stance. Karies flashed her a look and she settled back into her chair. Leslie kicked a chair out with her foot, as if on cue and grinned at Suze. "We're just sloshing back some nitro with our buds, no posturing here. Sit, join us." Every time Karies had run into the fellow New Englander she was cheerful, full of smiles and joy and ... happiness. She needed work. "What are you doing here?" Leslie questioned. "I'm sticking with my friend in her time of need," Suze bantered. "Sticky Knighties? Eeeew," Marg complained. "What's your poison?" Julie asked the newcomer, hailing the waiter. "Guinness." Suze offered tentatively, trying to catch her friend Kathy's eyes. "Another round, and a Guinness," Julie ordered regally. To make a long story short (You didn't think we had it in us, did ya, fellow Warriors?), the gals had another couple rounds, talking about all important things such as cats and dogs and chocolate and coffee, and the exact words to the Patty Duke Show theme song, which Kathy insisted had the line, "Because they're cousins and Jerks and stuff", Kathy trying to pump the Cousins for information on their operations, and Their Fearless Co-Leader, Lisa, in particular. The Cousins were far more lucid than she and skirted every query. Marg straightened, looking suddenly like a golden retriever, and announced, "Incoming." All three of the other Cousins' phones rang at once. Marg held her hand to her ear, listening to her message, transmitted directly from CERK HQ's. "Hello? Hey, Tammy." "Hullo? Hi, Starr." "Yo! Yeah, Lax?" The four Cousins exchanged not too startled glances. The Cousins were all fierce warriors, but they were very much in touch with their feminine side, as was Their Fearless Leader, and they spread gossip faster than the Knighties spread the news of a new way to extrapolate detailed imaging of Nick in the Kaftkan. Flipping their phones shut in unison, Leslie said. "Well, Kathy, you don't have to worry about Lisa for a few days, seems she's either possessed by Belial or had more Zombie Beachcombers than the human psyche can handle. She's out of commission for at least a few days." "Speaking of the human condition, did you guys know we could've improved on our personalities before arriving in Toronto?" "No way?" "Way!" "Darn! Is it too late?" "I do-know, whatcha think Leslie? Kathy?" Kathy's head hit the table with a klank. Leslie burped, looking like she intended to blow bubbles. "Well, on that note, let's get on with it, eh?" Piling six women into the voyager from Planet Nine was an art that no one dared to practice often. "This is a PG-13 war, from here on we'll need a designated weaver." "That'll be me," Julie offered. The other women all looked relieved. The passengers stared quizzically at Karies as she rubbed little dabs of Dippity Do into her spiky hair as she drove. Leslie looked back at the two Cousins in the back seat, dressed in black silk, then her eyes met Kathy's, and they rolled. "Julie, can you toss me that gym bag?" Karies asked, almost politely. She was out of the car, facing an alleyway and changed into well worn brown leather jeans before the other gals noticed. She buttoned the trouser legs over her chocolate colored pointed boots, and strapped on jingly spurs, then snapped silver Papago button covers over her shirt buttons. "You actually look presentable, except for the hair," Leslie laughed. "I didn't bring my leathers." "That's what comes of domestication" Karies pontificated. "You forget the important things and think of nothing but breeding and raisin' kids and fresh peaches." Leslie tried to melt her friend with her eyes. "You pluck yours too, don't yo--- OW!" Julie looked Karies up and down, smoothed the wrinkles from her silk dress. "Is this a western bar?" she asked, a hint of mocking Texan in her lilt. "Mmmnmh, you might say it appeals to people who ... dance to the beat of a different drummer." They eyed the row of Bikes parked out in front of the club suspiciously, Harley's decked with fancy saddle bags, Harley Softails in light blue and greens, Kawasaki's and Ninja Bikes .... wannabes. This was not your usual grungy leather bar. "Leslie, not that I would ever question your obviously well honed skill at planning operations," Julie stammered, "but what makes you think we'll find Nick here?" "Because we're talking about Nick, here. Looking-for-love-in-all-the- wrong-places Nick." She shrugged. "If he's in TO, he could be here as well as anywhere else. Hey, what the heck, you gals could find some SNAGs (Sensitive New Age Guys) in here." "And you're looking for...?" "I still need somebody to clean my house." "Mmmmhuh." The women moved in a pack, cruising though the bar like pythons in a chicken coop. "Ouch!" Marg grimaced, "Who would pierce *that*?" "I would ... if I had one." Leslie grinned. "You are deranged," Kathy mumbled. "Yes, I know." To be continued.... ********************************************************************* Nightcrawlin' (02/02) By Gehirn Karies and Leslie GrantSmith, Cousins Time: Friday, 8/2, midnight After: On the Carpet (01/01) "Ooohhhh, that guy is selling poppers, I'll be right back, find a place to light. I'll check out the back room, and circle around," Karies grumbled. She looked almost pale when she returned. "Wassa matter?" Leslie asked, shaking off the zing of a freshly downed shot. "Thomas is here, and your friend, Pat." she tossed her head, over there, corner booth, in the khakis haze." "Did you say hi?" "No, I can't talk to them. My brain would implode in the high pressure of intellectual discourse." "There's a silent avalanche ... I'll go say hi." "Go and find out what their bogged down little minds are up to." "Thomas the vampire?" Julie asked. "Yeah." "He is such a, a --- " Suze couldn't finish. "Yeah." "Do you know that neither one of those guys own a television?" "A what?" "A TV." "Don't go there." "How horrible for them." "It's a frightening world, eh? Mmmmh, the coffee smells good, think I'll get one ... NOT!" Karies moved her chair, letting the returning Leslie slide up another. "I'm having trouble with the cup holder on my computer tower." Suze spoke softly. Her voice sang with the power of love and goodness. It made the Cousins nervous. "You have a coffee holder on your PC tower?" Marg looked surprised. "Yes, you push a little button, and it slides open. You push the button again and it slides back, but it's stuck shut." "Draw it," Karies snarked, tossing a napkin at the Knightie. She looked at the sketch, then threw it back. "That's your CD ROM drive, Dude." "Oh!" Suze said cheerfully. "Don't I feel silly?" Kathy fell off her chair laughing. "Earth to Leslie," Karies goaded. Leslie's eyes didn't move. Her Luscivious gaze was transfixed, a frightening intensity burning in her eyes. The gals carefully followed her gaze to where it rested, on a sinuous thigh in black leather. They raised their eyes slowly, in unison, virtually crawling up the true man's body. "He-he replaced the scorched leather pants," Leslie stuttered. "Oh baby, oh baby, oh baby, oh!" Karies licked her lips. "I could get used to slipping into that like a fine hand tooled saddle." Julie's eyes glazed over, as she slipped into a fantasy, trembling slightly. "What are you doing for the rest of your unlife?" "Oh, I want him!" Kathy insisted. "I'm cutting you off, Knightie gal!" Karies teased. "Uhm, gals, I hate to remind you of this, but he can hear everything we've said," Marg warned. 'He'd have to be ... listening," Julie whispered. Slowly, sensuously, as if draining the energy of movement from the cosmos, LaCroix turned slightly, the tight leather trousers straining under the motion, and directed his gaze at the ogling women. His ice blue eyes sparkled with mirth. His lips curled up into a knowing grin as delicious as the ripest peach. Leslie's beer slipped from her numbed hands, spilling onto the table. Marg's sudden intense body heat set off another round of reverb from her receiver. Kathy dropped her head onto the table, moaning. Julie fainted. Suze, of course, jumped to her side. A slow sinister grin graced Karies' lips. If she were a cartoon, a lightbulb would have lit over her head. But, alas, she was not a cartoon, so she did the only sensible thing ... ordered another round. Unable to look in LaCroix's direction any longer without severe risk to her already strained impulse control, Leslie turned her head away. Only to face yet another challenge to her socialization. "Who," she asked the waiter, "are THEY?" All the gals' heads turned to see the twin men walking in the door. "That's the Wetmore twins, Rick and Gary." The gals gasped. The Wetmore twins were the spitting image of Nick and Nick Stunt Double. "Dibs on Stunt Double Wetmore," Karies hosseyed. "Karies," Leslie spat, "I told you a zillion times that was bulk from the flame retardent clothing." The Wetmore twins walked passed the table, followed by six laser-like gazes. "Uh ... I think not, in this case, Leslie. I wonder if they like BBW?" "I gotta--" Leslie pointed to the facilities. She desperately needed to splash cold water on her face. "Me too," Julie, Marg and Suze piped up. Karies leaned back in her chair until it hit the wall and closed her eyes. It took just the right position for her to squeeze any real clarity out of her head once it slipped over the edge of Danger Lust. Kathy raised her purse to her lap and looked through it with intent. The gals all came back in a flurry of chortling and rustling. Leslie hit her chair with a sickening squish. A scent strange to the locale wafted through the air. A sick look of fear, revulsion and pain crossed Leslie's expression. "Dude?" Leslie looked down at her seat. It had been smeared with honey. Kathy placed an empty honey bear on the table, sobered suddenly with the glow of a woman empowered. "Does *everybody* read that other fiction list?" Leslie whined. "You give new meaning to honey buns!" Suze bubbled. "C'mon," Karies chortled, "there's a leather boutique through the back room. You need something other than black jeans anyway." **** Karies sat at their table, one tiny fraction of one eye looking out for Leslie coming out of the little shop at the back of the bar. The rest of her attention was focused on the man seated next to her. Leaning far too close to Rick Wetmore, she whispered in his softly rounded ear. He smiled the biggest goofiest smile, and she shook her head to be sure she wasn't having an intentionally goofy dream sequence. Leslie finally slid out of the shop, and prowled over to their table, the contentment generated by slipping into a pair of supple black leather pants adding a predatory sparkle to her eye. "Leather is so much Kewler than rubber, I think, eh?" Gary asked her as she slithered into the chair next to him. "Uhm ... yeah, yeah it is." Most things are cooler than rubber. The two men chatted with the six women, quite taken with their intrigued fascination. Leslie's eyes, however, tended to wander over to the bar regularly, to take in brief sips of the elegant body enthroned there. At one little glance, instead of her usual delighted little shudder, she stiffened. Seated next to LaCroix was the lithe figure of Thomas. "What is that Byzantine up to?" she muttered. Her hand, lightly resting on Gary's thigh, came up to grip her beer mug. Gary's face lost the gratified curve to its lips, when he noticed her intense focus on the two men. He turned his attention more fully to Kathy, seated on the other side of him. After a few minutes conversation, Thomas stood up and wove through the mortal customers toward his booth. Leslie rose to follow him. "Karies, I'll be right back. I gotta go talk to someone." Karies dragged her eyes off of Rick long enough to catch a glimpse of Thomas's silk clad back vanishing into the crowd. As Leslie started after him, Karies swore under her breath. That blonde was taking this War stuff much too seriously. Reluctantly, she rose to her feet. She'd told Leslie she'd do the looming and if the woman was going to try to dun Thomas for information, she might need backup, even with Pat there. She gave Rick's shoulder a squeeze, bent to murmur in his ear, then took off after Leslie. She felt a little spurt of chilly concern when she discovered the booth Thomas and Pat had been occupying empty and no Leslie in sight. She scanned the room anxiously, but spotted none of her targets. Aware that it would be easy for the short woman to get lost in a room full of looming leather men, she began threading her way through the crowd. She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw Leslie back at the bar, questioning the bartender. "What the frolic were you thinking?" Karies growled through clenched teeth. Leslie gazed at her absent-mindedly, lost in a haze of plots and possible counter-plots. "I lost him in the crowd and Pat was already gone. While I was up, I decided to ask the bartender if they had any little brown books in their lost and found. About 15 little black books and a few red ones. No brown." Her expression became tragic. "And LaCroix left while I was looking for Thomas." Leslie's face was so down-cast, Karies couldn't bring herself to chew her out. Putting her arm around her friend, she drew her back to their table. Then stopped and stared. Marg and Julie sat alone, sipping their drinks and avoiding the returning Cousins' eyes with studied nonchalance. The Wetmore twins and the two Knighties were gone. "Where...?" Karies began. "Oh, the guys asked Kathy and Suze if they wanted to go dancing with them at another club," Julie said casually. "They seemed a little irked that you walked off and left for so long," added Marg. Karies turned to Leslie, jaw bunching as she ground her teeth. "Dude," Leslie muttered apologetically and shrugged. "They would tend to have a greater affinity toward Knighties anyway, don't ya think?" "But Rick said he loooved to clean house. And *I* called Dibs," Karies moaned. If she were a cartoon, steam would have whistled out of her ears. But she wasn't a cartoon, so she could only shake her head. Fin. ********************************************************************* To Sleep...Perchance to Dream (1/1) Tigon Diana Hooker/AlphaWoof of the WoofPack Friday/2 AUG 1996/1:00am Toronto/FG Mansion Tigon stumbled up the stairs from where she had just finished feeding all 22 dogs and one rat. Tired did not begin to describe her state. Saturday she and the Woofpack had flown to Toronto and gotten situated. Sunday she cleaned the whole bloody mansion, then went off to meet the Knighties. Monday was the Brabant exhibit, not to mention having to get Lisa(or Cousin Suk, or Angelique the vampire)situated. Tuesday there was the whole sock thing, Timon's disappearance, and Angelique's breaking of her arm. Wednesday was the ongoing search for Timon, and the ongoing struggle to reign in Lisa (et al). Thurday was the whole situation with Timon at Merc Central. Add in the care and feeding of all the dogs, plus trying to organize things with the WoofPack...somehow Tigon had forgotten to sleep during this time. Tigon was very tired...tired enough to actually use a sling for her casted left arm...it would be her dominant hand, of course. Tired enough to actually go to bed before the sun came up. Tired. Snuggling Timon under her chin and being followed by her own ten dogs and Perry, she traversed the living room. The place seemed empty...Lizbet was probably doing Mercly things, and there was no telling where Steve and Becky might be. Tigon absolutely refused to ponder the ramifications of Lisa/Suk/Angelique's absence. Tigon shuffled up the stairs only to stop outside her bedroom door. Somebody, or many somebodies, had decided to use her door for a message board. Tigon pulled down the first slip of paper. 'Tigon, sorry I missed you...The Knighties need the WoofPack and Perry for a raid on the Raven. Meet at the loft 3am Saturday morning. Maryann." Tigon grunted...finally. She scribbled nearly unreadable notes to Steve and Becky (darned cast!), telling them to be ready to leave by 2:30am on Saturday. She tacked the notes to their respective doors. The next slip of paper was an invitation to see Shakespeare's 'Much Ado About Nothing' on Saturday night. Tigon grunted, "The play's the thing!" She shuffled back downstairs to call in an RSVP...her ticket would be at Will Call. The last piece of paper was a quick note from Lizbet. "Tigon, I'm afraid I've had to move the party from Friday night to late Saturday night." Tigon pounded her head against the doorframe in agravation. Great...break into the Raven at dawn, see a play, and have a party all in one day. Why not? The head-pounding suddenly ceased as a thought...a beautiful thought flitted through her head. The party was cancelled tonight...she had absolutely nothing to do until it was time to go to the Knighties. Plotting be damned...she was going to sleep! She staggered back over to Steve and Becky's doors and added to their notes, telling them about the change in party plans. Then she wrote a new note to stick on her own door. "IF ANYONE SO MUCH AS THINKS OF WAKING ME BEFORE 2AM ON SATURDAY, YOU WILL BE RIPPED LIMB FROM LIMB BY MY DOGS!" She signed it, 'Love Tigon.' She left Perry outside with explicit instructions to 'stay!' and locked the bedroom door. Regarding the locked door uncertainly, she then shoved a heavy dresser in front of it. The dogs had already made themselves comfortable in various spots around the room. Tigon put Timon in his lego house, checked the heavy drapes to make sure no sun would peep in, and unplugged the phone. Stretching out on her bed with a sigh of bliss, she made sure her shillelagh was close it hand (just in case Angelique dropped by). It briefly occured to her that she had forgotten to eat, but she decided it could wait. Rolling on her side, she commanded her intent dogs... "If anyone tries to disturb me...EAT THEM." Tigon yawned and passed out. ********************************************************************* Flashbacks, Conversations and Resurrections (2/2) Place: CERK HQ Time: Early Monday morning (Aug.5th), 0230 am. Author: Dawn Steele (Merc.) with input from: erica and Bianca M., Felicia, Bonnie, and Tara They were a motley group that spanned numerous affiliations. The one thing they held in common was an interest in a certain vampire. They were -- the Urchin Sympathizers! (Or US for short [not to be confused with the UF affiliation, whose acronym always reminded this babbling editor of 'UHF' with Weird Al for some odd reason.]) Gathered around the meeting place (a lonely Bell phone booth a block from CERK HQ), they met officially for the first time. erica had gathered their names from random comments dropped on the forkni-l list, and then they had commiserated over Urs' fate in private email. They were strong! They were mighty! They were... not really an official faction. Unwilling to leave their main fac...(oops!) affiliations to devote themselves to Urs alone, they had decided to try and do double duty when necessary. erica and Biana were at the phone booth first (they only to go one block). As the Cousins of the bunch, they would prove invaluable in the next hours. Tara O'Shea (aka LJC), Felicia Bollin, and Bonnie Pardoe all arrived together. The Ravennette, Immortal Beloved and Vaquera had all come over from the Raven. The final party member to arrive was the Mercenary member of the US, Dawn Steele. Face to face at last, they spent the next twenty minutes fighting over what to do about Urs' situation, what would happen when she recover, and what (and why) Dawn wanted to be paid for participating in the meeting. Yells of 'what about US loyalty?' and '... not going to end up like Maureen!' could be heard halfway down the street. Finally, Tara O'Shea pulled out one of the Canada's new dual-tone, two dollar coins that she had been saving as a souvenir. She threw it against the concrete, watched it neatly split apart into a silver ring and the gold center and gave Dawn the pieces. The mercenary (who had never been able to get the knack of making the coins split) tucked them securely into a pocket. About the only thing they agreed on during the entire 'discussion' was that Urs should get of LaCroix' realm of influence. erica and Bianca were all in favour of getting Urs' body out of CERK, but were verbally airing their doubts about being able to find a supply of the large amount of blood that she seemed to need. The two Cousins were still smarting over their punishment of the CERK hijacking, and wanted to inconvienience LaCroix but were having a rare period of common sense. Tara finally stopped the fighting by intimating that she might have a way to wake Urs up -- then they could figure out what to do next. She rustled her backpack and a clinking noise was heard. So the somewhat disorganized (but fortuitously dressed all in black break-in garb) group sneaked over to CERK. Bianca and erica used their (wavering but still in force) status as Cousins to get them past security, and they all headed towards the basement. The secret panel to the secret room where Urs was secretly stashed... was unfortunately still a secret. erica and Bianca had rushed to get through the door after it closed, and didn't know where the panel was to get inside. Dawn pulled out a Stud-Finder (they really exist!), and started to search the room for strange building anomalies. A systematic search and press of every single structure on the wall (Hey! I conquered Myst! I can find a silly secret panel!) revealed it at last. The small group crept through the door and over to the coffin ... the container where Urs was held. After stepping as far as possible from the spigot, erica turned it and let all the fresh blood that Cousin Lisa had poured in drain away. The women then worked together at getting Urs' unconscious body out of the tank, and wrapped into a blanket. Tara used a corner of the blanket to dry off Urs' face before reaching over to get her blue canvas Kermit tote bag. "Susan gave this to me a couple of hours ago." So saying she pulled a bottle of blood out and placed it on the floor. "Best thing to help an injured vampire is the blood of an old one." (ed. "Night in Question") Dawn waved a hand to catch Tara's attention. "I don't want to be a spoilsport, but... how do you expect to get that down?" Felicia reached into her 'the frog bag' and pulled out a plastic bag containing an assortment of needles, plastic tubing, and a funnel. "We thought of that!" She pointed at the long, sharp, needle. "The blood can go through the needle right into the stomach and be absorbed through the stomach walls -- which everyone knows is more efficient than through the skin." Nods of agreement all round. Patently obvious. (ed. "Night in Question", "Only the Lonely") It was messy, it was time-consuming, and it was hard to figure out where to put the needle, but finally it was done. Their moment had arrived. A flutter of eyelashes... A twitch of a foot... An inhaled breath, and... Urs opened her eyes to see herself surrounded by intense looking women. "Who are you?" Dawn moved a little closer. "I'm Dawn, ... that's Bonnie who you've already met, and Tara and Felicia and erica and Bianca. We're here to help you!" Urs raised a hand to her forehead, and squinched her eyes shut in puzzlement. "But ... Who I?" "Ouch!" Dawn felt a rather large headache coming on. Why wasn't life ever simple? Bonnie pulled her to wobbly feet, patted her on the shoulder reassuringly and adjusted the blanket around her more securely. "Don't you worry about that right now." "We have to take her to the Raven -- Janette will know what to do." Tara said. She looked at the other US, and saw agreement in all their eyes. What other course was there? --------------- end of part 2/2 ********************************************************************* A Red Herring Dispatched (01/01) By: Denise Underwood (Cousins) Friday, August 2, 1996 10am (a follow up to "That Stupid We're Not") CERK HQ Denise handed the paperwork to the AMEX fraud investigator. "As you can see Mr. Bond, I have Mr. LaCroix's full authority to deal with this matter." Mr. Bond looked over the papers. "I can see that Miss Underwood." "My employer is a very busy man Mr. Bond, he has no time to deal with such minor matters. " "I understand. We just want to get this matter cleared up." Mr. Bond responded. "As you can see, Mr. Miklos was only briefly in the employ of Mr. LaCroix. Practically a technicality when my employer bought the Raven Club. There is no way Mr. Miklos could have had access to the credit card in such a short time. " Denise waited for the investigator to catch up with his notes. "You do have a point." He agreed. "In addition, the card in question was part of a totally separate business entity from the Raven. It was for the express use of the estate of Mr. LaCroix's that I manage, the #FK manor house." Denise continued. "As you can see from our very thorough security logs from the manor house," She handed him another file folder, "Mr. Miklos was never a guest in the house. I can assure you Mr. Bond that our security measures are most stringent." Denise finished smoothly. "I can't argue with the evidence that you present Miss Underwood, very thorough indeed." "That's what I'm paid for Mr. Bond. It seems obvious to me that someone was impersonating Mr.Miklos" "Of course, of course." He swallowed nervously under the steady and unnerving gaze of Mr. LaCroix's estate manager. "Well, since it wasn't Mr. Miklos, I don't know what to tell you Miss Underwood. We may never track down the true culprits." He said apologetically. "Of course I understand Mr. Bond. My employers main concern was that an innocent man was not falsely accused." She smiled encouragingly. "I'm sure you will eventually track down the perpetrators." Besides she thought, it didn't matter. LaCroix would deal with them himself. "If there is nothing else?" "No, no, nothing else. Please assure your employer that we will do our utmost to resolve this case." Denise made reassuring noises as she let Mr. Bond out, in relief she shut the door behind him. That went very well she thought. As if the N&N pack truly thought for one moment that LaCroix would believe that Miklos would ever dare cross the General. Denise laughed, this would be a good day. Now to find LaCroix and update him on the situation, and to plan the next step. ********************************************************************* California Girls by Dianne "Dee" la Mercenaire and Christina "Kiki" Kaminkar [Timeline: 2pm-ish, Friday 8/2] [Place: Merc Central; a phone booth somewhere else; Eaton Center] [Reference Material: re-check "A Form of Affection" if you're lost ;-] WARNING: The following contains unexpurgated examples of *ValSpeak*. Minors, the infirm, and those with easily affected minds or speech patterns should NOT continue. All others, proceed at your own risk. The management will not be responsible for the consequences. NOTE: Any and all errors and/or anachronisms may be attributed to the fact that, contrary to popular rumor, I was _never_ a Valley Girl... even though I only lived one valley over and was in jr. high school at the time. (Yes, we laughed at them even then. :-) Not to mention that this is, like, a _War_! And am I, like, going to get all totally *mental* about something that is so, like, like, not *even* mall- related? As *if*!!! -+*+-+*+-+*+- -+*+-+*+-+*+-+*+-+*+-+*+- -+*+-+*+-+*+-+*+-+*+-+*+-+*+-+*+-+*+- "Merc Central: You pick 'em, we kick 'em! Mommy-General Christina speaking." "Cute, Chris, very cute." "Hey, Oh Exaulted One and all that! What's up?" "Just calling in, making sure there are no problems back at HQ..." "Nope. Kira says RDM might be running low on the darker chocolates soon, but for the moment...," Christina paused. "*What* did you say? 'As if' what? Dianne? Yo, Dianne! What's wrong? *Dianne*....?" But the line was dead. This was a Bad Sign. With a worried frown she activated the automatic call-traceback with one hand and reached for her jacket with the other. -+*+-+*+-+*+-+*+-+*+-+*+-+*+-+*+-+*+ It was like *forever* later when Dee came out of a store and bumped right into this, like, totally blonde girl. "Like, Watch where you're, like, *going* already! I'm so *sure*!" "Dianne?" The blonde's eyes had widened considerably. "Are you all right?" "Like that is *so* bogus!" Dee rolled her eyes and flipped her hair to. "My name is, you know, like, just plain 'Dee', like, okay?" "Ohhhhhhh-kaaaay...," Christina considered, looking around trying to figure out who could be listening in. Dianne *never* let anyone call her anything but 'Dianne'. "I'm sorry 'Dee'.... I, uh, forgot...." Dee blinked vacantly for a moment. "Like, am I supposed to, like, you know, *know* you or something? I am *so* sure!" It took Christina only a moment to decide that, whatever job or cover Dianne had gotten herself into, two could play this game. After all, the Merc Mommy General liked to think _she_ did a pretty mean Valley Girl impersonation too. "Oh. My. God. Dee?!? It's Kiki! Don't you remember me?" "Kiki? _What_ are you doing in those *clothes*?" "I'm, like, in disguise? And it's, um, a secret, 'kay? You _won't_ tell, right?" "As if! It's sooooo radical, I would have never like, recognized you! We have _got_ to get you decent stuff to wear, you know?" "Fer sure. But not now, 'kay? It would totally spoil the plan." "WHAT-ever." Dee flipped her hair with a practiced air. There's this rilly wicked shop on Yonge, though. It's got a bustier that would make your boobs look ab-so-lute-ly killer." "I already *have* killer boobs, Dee. Duh!" "Even more killer, Kiki. Du-uh-uh!" 'Kiki' giggled vacantly. "Right! I'm so sure." She looked thoughtful for a moment (a whole moment too, which is hard for a Val, you know!) "Hmmm... I could wear it to the Shakespeare thing." "What Shakespeare thing? Kiki, are you like, taking classes or something? Bogus." "NO! There's this, y'know, play? And like, this TOTALLY killer babe Scott is in it---" "Like, is this one of your geeko boyfriends?" "Get a life, Dee. The Scott that Maureen---Muffy---drools over. The total Adonis in the shades." "Oh, THAT stud. Yummy. And he's, like, in this Shakespeare thing? But that's soooooooo bor-ing!" "Well, yuh. But! He'll be in tights. And an open shirt." "Say no more. I'm there." "Coolness." Dee thought for a moment, until her brain started to hurt, "So, like, what happened with that CERK thing? Are you going to go to jail?" "As if! The transmitter blew up on Wednesday. No evidence, no trial, and Kiki is as free as O.J." "Very brill, Kiki." "Oh, like, I didn't do it." "I'm sure." "No, rilly! They don't know who did. 'Cept it wasn't me, and it wasn't my nieces---" "Ew! Nieces! When did you get those? Little rug rat carpet monsters, ick---" "Chill. The Morrigna just, like, TOLD the police I'm their Auntie Christina." At this, Kiki and Dee started laughing hysterically. When their brains recovered from that... "Yah! I know. Sooooooo likely, I'm sure. But, they like, bought it. So erica and Bianca are outta custody, TOO, and like, the police still have no clew who bombed the transmitter." "The police have no clew?" Kiki giggled. "No clew at all." "This is like, not a shock. Nick has no clew. Tracy never had a clew. Reese had no clew about, like, WATER COOLERS. Right! I'm sure." "Completely." "Like, the only person who even had a clue what clew was, was, like, Natalie. Except, she's, well, y'know. Dead. Totally unalive." "She *could* be breathing." "And, like craving blood. Gag!" "Oh, very nice. Make me want to hurl." "Sorry. Vachon had a clew, but he rilly needed a stylist. I'm *so* stoked that Lisa gave him that style and set, he should be lookin' hot." "Vachon is not hot. Vachon is kewl. Nick is hot." "Whoah! Are you *feeling* all right? Nick is sooooooo bogus. The UnDead Klewless Boy Wonder. Batboy in Therapy. I'm sure!" "Fine! You don't want him, I'll bag him. Black silk makes me steamy." "I did *not* need to know that, Kiki. Waaaaay too much information." "Forget I said anything. 'Kay?" "As if! With you, like, standing there, like, with your mouth hanging open over Brick-Boy? I am so sure! I mean shut your mouth! You, like, totally look like a dead *goldfish*!" Dee blinked several times and shook her head, as if strange, eerie, funky music had just run through it. "Whoah! Like, now I am *so* bummed out! It's, like, so bogus! Just, like, forget it already, like, *okay*?" Dianne stared at her Mommy-General for a moment, then shook her head. "Are you all right, Chris?" She looked the other woman up and down slowly, checking her head in particular for signs of serious physical trauma. "I think the stress is getting to you. Maybe you should take a couple of days off or something...?" "Oh." Christina looked disappointed. "Assignment's over then?" "Uh, yeah," Dianne agreed looking about to see if the men in white coats might not already be coming for her friend, "The... uh... 'assignment' is definitely *over*, dear. Get some serious sleep tonight, Chris, o.k.?" "Yeah, sure, whatever," Chris agreed amiably. "Gotta job; gotta run. See you later?" "Yeah, I hope so," Dianne called after her. she muttered, her brow furrowing and her mind sorting through memories for the location of the nearest intensive psychiatric care unit that took the MercCare health plan.... -+*+-+*+-+*+-+*+-+*+-+*+- [sadly only about 50 of those Dee-words are mine... (that's *1/20th* of my prescribed quota, for those keeping count)...which just goes to show Christina is a far scarier Val than I could (or would!) _ever_ hope to be! :-] ********************************************************************* String Me Along by Cousin Erik LeBeau Time: 3:00 pm, Friday the 2nd Place: the sewers near Vachon's church Erik moved along the sewers with renewed purpose, a large bag slung over his shoulder. Rather than being careful not to jostle the contents, Erik was consciously shaking them as much as possible. This was necessary for maximum effect. He just hoped the timers would deploy correctly. Flashback - 4 hours ago Erik sat at his desk under the bright work lights he had requested. He fidgeted with the delicate wiring, adjusted the distance of the firing pin, and set the timer. He had already completed five of the devices; this would be the last one in this batch. He finished it up and checked the time. Plenty of time. The Vaqueras wouldn't be leaving for quite some time. End Flashback At the entrance to the church's basement, Erik encountered something he hadn't planned on. Vachon. The Spaniard was sleeping not far from where Erik had to enter. Holding his breath, Erik pulled the grate from its place in the wall and slid inside. So far, so good. He tiptoed past the vampire and moved into the main area of the church. Reaching into his bag, he began to pull out the canisters and placed them strategically around the church, activating the timers. All six of the devices were soon set out in such a way that they should cover the church nicely. Erik made his way back to the basement, thumbing his nose at the geese that waited just outside. Passing by Vachon again, he absently noticed the collection of sheet music by the couch with the initials B.P. on them. Poor smitten Erik couldn't resist. Snatching up a blank sheet of paper and a nearby pen, he quickly scrawled a note: Bonnie, Angel of Music, I regret that I have not yet had the opportunity to hear you sing. I am sure that if your voice is half as lovely as you yourself, you must be mesmerizing your audiences. I will be watching you from afar. Please do not look for me, because I do not wish to be found. At least, not yet. --O.G. Before he could have second thoughts, he stuck the note in the music and hurried out into the cold sewers. He reentered the manor house at about 4:00 and almost ran right into Cousin Julie. "Oh! Hi, Erik? What have you been up to?" "What else? Causing trouble. Oh, Jules, do me a favor. Remember that you saw me here at this time. And come make sure I'm still here about 7." Julie grinned. "You're up to something, aren't you?" Erik smiled his most innocent smile (which was hard while wearing a mask) and replied, "Moi? Of course!" True to form, Julie checked up on Erik around 7, confirming that he was indeed in his room, sleeping peacefully. 'Man, he even sleeps in that mask,' Julie thought to herself, but decided against pursuing that line of thought. Back at the church, the Vaqueras were just arriving back from dinner. As they did, the timers ticked to zero, and the firing pins released, puncturing the pressurized cans and covering every flat surface of the church with... Silly String. Erik smiled in his sleep, knowing his plan executed flawlessly. Life was good. ********************************************************************* Silliness at the church 1/1 Immeaditely following Cousin Eric's post "String me along" Location:The old church Date: Friday August 2nd,5:33 p.m. By Cindy Brewer,Vaquera DHRC98C@prodigy.com The Vaquero's were a happy group as they returned to the church after eating dinner. "I can't believe you were flirting with that waiter."Nancy commented to Torrey with a grin. Torrey shrugged,"Hey,he looked a lot like Vachon." Cindy laughed,"In Torrey's defense,he did look alot like........" KABOOSH! Instantly everyone in the vicinity of the doorway was covered with Silly string. All kinds of Silly string.....purple,blue,orange,pink...... The geese started squawking at the sudden noise adding to the chaos. "What on Earth?"Cindy Brewer exclaimed as she stumbled into the church struggling to get the bright pink strands of Silly string out of her brown hair. "The Church has been sabotaged!"Sherri realized as the Vaquero's slowly took in the mess. "What's all the noise?"Javier Vachon asked as he came up from the basement.His eyes widened seeing the destruction,"What happened in here?" Torrey finally managed to push back her blond hair from her face so she could see,"If I *ever* find out who did this......." "Hey,"Storm called walking away from the piano,"Someone wrote something on one of Bonnie's sheet music." Torrey carefully avoided a can of unopened Silly string and took the piece of paper from her,reading outloud," 'Bonnie,angel of music,I regret that I have not yet had the opportunity to hear you sing. I am sure that if your voice is half as lovely as you yourself,you must be mesmerizing your audiences. I will be watching you from afar.Please do not look for me,because I do not wish to be found. At least not yet. O.G." "Who's O.G.?"Nancy asked as she started to pick up the empty cans of Silly String. Torrey shook her head,"I don't know,but I smell a Cousin." Cindy happened to glance over at Vachon in time to see him trigger one of the can's of Silly String. "Vachon! Look out!" Javier moved with vampire speed but unfortunately it wasn't quick enough. The Spaniard found himself covered with bright pink Silly String. "*What* is this stuff?"Vachon asked struggling with the sticky substance. "Silly String."Cindy replied walking over to the vampire and attempting to help him clear away the sticky pink stuff,"Its normally used at parties." "Great."Vachon said. "Is Bonnie still here"Sherri asked. "Yes,"Deb replied,"She's napping upstairs.She was exhausted." Torrey nodded,"Somebody go wake her.Let's start cleaning up this mess and figure out what our revenge will be." ********************************************************************* Is That A Phantom? By: Torrey Harris Vaq. Time: 5:45pm Date: 8/2 Torrey stood very still. Multicolored Silly String hung from every part of her body. Before she could make a sound Vachon set off another and he was also covered in Silly String. Looking around the room she took in the pitiful sight of her beloved Vaqueros trying to pull gobs off the offending stuff off each other. Torrey and Apache's eyes locked through the maze of Silly String covering their faces. They both looked up to the corner. Yep the little red light was still on. "Get the tape." Torrey growled to Apache through clenched teeth. Apache went into the back room and Torrey followed. On the way she told the other Vaqueros to try and get the place put back together. "I don't understand how anyone could have gotten in here." Apache said as she rewound the tape. "We will soon see." Torrey answered as she tried to rid herself of the offending string. "Here!" Apache said as the tape started to roll. " Look someone is coming up the stairs!" "Sherri, Crystal, Cindy, Vachon! Get in here!" Torrey yelled. The group wandered in and Apache showed them the tape. Turning to Vachon Torrey asked " How did he get in from the basement?" "He must have used Screeds entrance." Vachon answered looking a little guilty. "Sherri, Crystal, Cindy, I want you guys to go down there and secure that opening. Make sure it is closed permanentaly." Torrey watched the group hurry out of the room. "That's how Screed got here." Vachon said " I guess I forgot about it." "Augh." Torrey moaned. " OK, Apache and I are going to take care of this." <1.5.4.16.19960806144243.4adfbec6@popd.ix.netcom.com> Mime-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset="us-ascii" From: Torrey Subject: WAR: VAQ: IS THAT A PHANTOM? WAR VII Is That A Phantom? By: Torrey Harris Vaq. Time: 5:45pm Date: 8/2 Torrey stood very still. Multicolored Silly String hung from every part of her body. Before she could make a sound Vachon set off another and he was also covered in Silly String. Looking around the room she took in the pitiful sight of her beloved Vaqueros trying to pull gobs off the offending stuff off each other. Torrey and Apache's eyes locked through the maze of Silly String covering their faces. They both looked up to the corner. Yep the little red light was still on. "Get the tape." Torrey growled to Apache through clenched teeth. Apache went into the back room and Torrey followed. On the way she told the other Vaqueros to try and get the place put back together. "I don't understand how anyone could have gotten in here." Apache said as she rewound the tape. "We will soon see." Torrey answered as she tried to rid herself of the offending string. "Here!" Apache said as the tape started to roll. " Look someone is coming up the stairs!" "Sherri, Crystal, Cindy, Vachon! Get in here!" Torrey yelled. The group wandered in and Apache showed them the tape. Turning to Vachon Torrey asked " How did he get in from the basement?" "He must have used Screeds entrance." Vachon answered looking a little guilty. "Sherri, Crystal, Cindy, I want you guys to go down there and secure that opening. Make sure it is closed permanentaly." Torrey watched the group hurry out of the room. "That's how Screed got here." Vachon said " I guess I forgot about it." "Augh." Torrey moaned. " OK, Apache and I are going to take care of this." Torrey and Apache sat watching the tape play through. Whoever this was...he was a very strange character. "Man this guy thinks he's the Phantom Of The Opera" Torrey stated the obvious. "I hate that play." Apache said with a frown. "Well then this is your chance to have a little fun." Torrey smiled and sat back. " I know who this guy is, well not who he is but that he has been staying with the Cousins." "How do you know that?" Apache asked "Easy, when we went to get Vachon from CERK I heard some people talking about him. You know strange things happen in the war's but some guy running through the sewers dressed like the Phantom is going to make even the war vet's talk. Plus Cherri was talking in her sleep when we let her stay here. Now I had no idea what any of it meant then...but now...lets just say all of the pieces are falling into place." ********************************************************************* Mission: Impossible for a Very Good Reason part 1 of 3 by erica and Bianca Hall (with input from Christina K. and graciousness from Lisa McD.) Wednesday, 2 August 7-10 p.m. Toronto - Coast Guard Station, cab ride, and Paragon Studios The arrests had been very orderly and pleasant once Bianca and erica lost consciousness. Bad experiences are funny like that. The people at the Canadian Coast Guard station had been tolerably responsive and receptive, if not completely kind. They could at least be persuaded to consider the girls' ages and histories, agreeing to release the two after much debate - provided a relative could be contacted and could pick them up. "Well, you two have never had a record in either country and one of you is a minor..." "And like we said, Sir, we were just testing out our new transceivers. We just got our Canadian Ham Radio licenses so haven't really had enough experience with the equipment," Bianca pleaded, batting her eyelashes. erica, sitting quietly in the holding room, made her face completely blank. "Good try," said the anonymous official guy in uniform. He gave them another look. "Well, we'll let you go after we call your parents." erica jumped up. "Um, they're out of town and we don't have the number." "They're camping in Africa miles away from a phone. And they're very elderly and hard of hearing, especially after that time they crossed the Amazon in South America and guppies swam into their ears," Bianca added, before erica could discreetly pinch her. The minor with innocent big eyes was having too much fun lying. "Then you're not going anywhere until someone can come..." "Will I do?" Came a voice from the door. It was familiar - commanding and persuasive, sonorous and meglomaniacal, chaotic and bitter at having been cooped up by the law enforcement herself. erica and Bianca glanced at each other and then ran up to Christina the Merc Mommy General. "AUNTIE CHRISTINAAAA!" The cab ride back to the Fe-Malefaction HQ, secretly tucked into Studio 37, home to one of the old Forever Knight sound stages (which erica and Bianca re-wired, upgraded, and booby-trapped back in War 5), was virtually silent and crackling with bad humour. erica didn't like getting caught and being made to feel even more guilty, like a kid with cookie crumbs smeared across her face. Bianca didn't like erica being mad and silent; one barked word from erica always set Bianca in a foul mood. But, this time, the older one eventually sighed and settled back into the ripped, stuffing-furry, vinyl cab's seat. "It wouldn't have lasted - couldn't have, anyway - unless we headed out to the open sea. But then, the Coast Guard would have used radar. Why couldn't Christina have loaned us an R.V.?" "The Iron Winnebago?" erica didn't seem to hear Bianca, luckily. "Then we could have made a run to the Mexican border. That always works when you're on the lam. Ah, whatever. Let's just get back home." "Yeah, home." Bianca looked dreamily out the window into Toronto evening. continued... ********************************************************************* Mission: Impossible for a Very Good Reason part 2 of 3 by erica and Bianca Hall (with input from Christina K. and graciousness from Lisa McD.) This entire part is a scene from War 5. Skip ahead to part 3 if you recognize + remember it. Wednesday, 2 August 7-10 p.m. Toronto - cab ride to Paragon Studios erica re-cocked the guillotine and bolted the door shut. She led Jamie around a pile of oak beams and PVC pipe shreds which lay immediately before them and which were quite invisible in the darkness. erica swung a pen light about, manoeuvering about with easily. "Sorry about the mess. We're actually completely done. i think you'll be pleasantly surprised." "When you turn on the lights and show me." "Patience, patience," erica urged, mumbling something about little Ms. Unwellness Face. She grabbed Jamie's hand and dragged her further into what Jamie could only guess was the center of the pitch-black, loudly- echoing room. There, erica forced her into a swiveling chair. "Now...," erica ran back into the darkness "... what do you think of... this?!" With the stubborn screech of a wall lever and the wicked zzzap of electricity, the interior burst into brightness - an invading light which blinded Jamie for a moment. The first things she managed to make out, as she peeked through her fingers, were a gargantuan console set into a wall with a smooth, dove-gray keyboard near her lap, and a single 27-inch computer monitor immediately above and set back from the keys. She sat in a sleek, modern black chair, bolted to the floor. Above her were more screens - television screens, one for each faction, all ready to reveal private scenes of plotting and conspiring. "Do you have spy cameras hooked up? Can you show me Sharon?" Jamie demanded. "Well, no. i went by Radio Shack and decided that 15 cameras, satellites, remote transmitters, and everlasting battery power are way out of our budget." She pulled a remote from her pants and TVs clicked on "... But we get HBO, TNT, CNN, Nickelodeon, MTV, the Sci-Fi Channel, couldn't live without that..." "Uh huh. Mouse?" Jamie asked, looking under the table for the tell- tale cord. "Voice-activated and voice-responsive technology," erica gushed through a belated Halloween grin. Jamie noted that, on the many parts of the walls that weren't painted black in this hangar-like building, the surfaces had been stripped to their jagged, blackened insulation underneath. Cavernous, black, rugged like stone. Making HQ look like... the Batcave. "What's this? The Vampcave?" she asked. Could erica be so unoriginal? "Yep," erica returned. "But if you think that's bad, wait until you go see what Bianca's got in the lab." "Um... What lab?" Jamie looked around to see if she'd missed anything. "This is just one big, empty room... except for this console, that wood heap I almost tripped over... and that bust." She *had* missed something. But it was just a decorative statue, right? "Au contraire, mon frere. That isn't any old bust." erica pulled Jamie from the console. "See? It's one of the spare Luciuses from AMPH!" "Why is it splattered black, white, and green?" "We saved it from someone's lawn. But that's a different story. Now, watch!" erica rubbed the bust's bald spot and suddenly the ground dropped from beneath the feet of the two Cousins - one screaming obscenities and the other whooping and raising her hands above her head gleefully. They slid through life-sized, life-wide PVC tubing, quickly coming to rest upon a semi-soft bed of Q-Tips. "Q-Tips?! What kind of sadist are you?" Q-Tips were for ridiculing, blasting through car doors in a single shot, and providing cover when a bladder most needed it. They were *not* to be taken lightly and certainly *not* for lounging about in. "Relax! i've used them here in conjunction with Bianca and my War cry..." she pointed to a placard hanging above the hole they'd just emerged from. 'Remember the Q-Tip!' "Good for you. I'll keep with mine though. SAAALT!" Jamie kicked herself free from the dreaded sticks and leapt to her feet, whipping her own fuzz-gun out, ready for whatever else erica had rigged her Headquarters of Horrors to do. She looked around and gasped. "Oh my god - is this Natalie's apartment set from "Only the Lonely"? And that the replica of Stonetree's precinct? Are those Schanke and Nick's police lockers?? And is that Nick's leather jacket hanging there? Ah! And bottles of peroxide?? Ha ha!!" Jamie scurried about, picking up this and that - including a cat who remarkably resembled Sydney, and a guy who had been looking a bit forlorn and neglected until now. He enjoyed the attention immensely. "This can't be Sydney, can it? You didn't steal him from Natalie, did you?" "No, i've had no time. This is Ralph, the feline actor who portrayed him." "Ooo, hi sweetie! I can't believe they just left you behind! Would you like to come home with me? You could meet my Elfy-Welfy! Hm? Wanna be my Walphykins? Yes, you're a good widdle kitty, aren't ya? Yes you are! Yes you are! What a woozy little mooza waga waga..." She fell into utter unintelligibility. "Jamie? Jamie? Attention, please. Come on, Jame, come back to us. Don't go into that light just yet. That's it, yeah, you're coming around now. Just take it slow." "Wa?" Jamie appeared dazed. "Oh, sorry. Cats, you understand." "Actually, Bianca and i are rabbit people and are pretty wary of ca... Could we get back to the story, please?! "Deep breaths, Bud!! Deeeeeep breaths!" Bianca called from a distance. She emerged from behind the OTL partition, face and denim overalls smudged with grease. "Hi, Jamie!" she said cheerily, pulling out a red hankerchief to wipe herself clean. "Hey, Bonk. What've you got back there?" Jamie nodded towards the rice-papered balsa frame. "Behind there," Bianca said, "is our..." erica ran over, pushing away the screen to reveal a long, black, finned... Caddy. "See?" Bianca cried. "The Vamp-mobile! It's like Nick's car's antithesis, non?" "Interesting..." Jamie and Ralph exchanged looks. "Don't you think a Porsche or a tank or something would have been a beter idea?" "We aren't *that* generous with our money," erica started. "And most of what we *did* have went to that fancy stuff upstairs. So we had to make do with the rental car." "You got this from Hertz?" "It's all they had left! The hundred other listmembers ("Who came early," erica muttered) took all the decent cars," Bianca explained. erica stepped forward impatiently. "This is what we have and this is what we're going to use. The 1959 Cadillac from "Nick Knight". Now pay attention, please." The three gathered around the car. erica cleared her throat. "Windscreen - bulletproof. At the side and rear window. Revolving number plates, naturally. Varied - all factions..." A dial on the driver's door flipped the plates about: LCRULES, BRICKLVR, NATPACKR, VACHGRRL, RAVENET, MIKIFINS, IMAGDCOP, ALMAZON... it went on for a while. erica continued, holding up a metal rectangular cube in her palm. "Here's a nice little transmitting device called a 'Brick-stick', 'Schank-flank', 'Nat-rat-on', 'Janette-magnet', 'Vachon-cherchant', or simply 'Uncle Homer'. You prime it by pressing that back like this." She slid one hinged edge back, causing the homer to beep. She opened the passenger's door and felt about for a hidden panel. "Reception on the dashboard here. Autovisual range - 150 miles." The radar beeped incessantly at its cue. Jamie raised an eyebrow. "Genius. And useful, too. Allows a girl to stop for a quick one en route." We can only imagine what kinds of visions danced through her head here. "'Tis not been perfected after years of patient research entirely for that purpose, double-oh... i mean, Jamie." erica shut the car door firmly. Bianca piped in. "And, incidentally, we'd appreciate its safe return along with all your other equipment. Intact, for once when you return from the field." "Well, you'd be surprised with the amount of wear and tear that goes on out there in the field. Anything else?" Jamie rubbed Ralph behind his ears. erica sighed, "Well, i won't keep you for more than an hour or so if you give me your undivided attention." She walked around to the driver's side. "We've installed some rather interesting modifications. You see this arm here?" She reached through the window and tapped the armrest between front seats. "Now open the top and inside are your defense mechanism controls - smoke screen, oil slick, rear bullet- proof screen, and left and right front-wing Q-Tip/toothpick guns. Now this one i'm particularly keen about. See the gear level here? Now if you take the top off, you'll find a little red button. Whatever you do, don't touch it!" "Why not?" Jamie looked bored. "'Cause you'll release this section of the roof and engage and enfire the passenger ejection seat." "Ejector seat. You're joking." She smirked and Ralph murraowed, incredulous. erica frowned and looked at the both of them sternly. "i never joke about my work, double-oh... i mean, Jamie." Jamie was the first to break from their collective Bond reverie. "You really did all that?" "Well, no," admitted erica. "Just the ejector seat part. But, at least, we have something to cruise around in." continued... ********************************************************************* Mission: Impossible for a Very Good Reason part 3 of 3 by erica and Bianca Hall (with input from Christina K. and graciousness from Lisa McD.) Wednesday, 2 August 7 p.m. Toronto - Paragon Studios, Studio 37 As erica and Bianca stepped back onto the studio grounds, they noticed hurried movement across the lot - near and between the other sound stage buildings. The figures' pause and dash smelled of War. "Shoot! Other affiliations have moved it around us." "They don't look like they're heading this way, though." erica squinted under the dim glow of Toronto's lights, the only illumination this end of the lot had. "Yeah, they have either ignored or haven't discovered our building. i doubt anyone knows this used to house the first season, anyway." Bianca took her sister's hand and led them to the side door. "And it looks so decrepid. No one would *want* to come over here." "Wait!" erica grabbed Bianca's hand which had been outstretched to open the door. "Lizbet is using the first story, remember? We wouldn't want to walk into a room full of Mercs." "Oh, God, I almost forgot!" "Especially if they're anything like her..." erica and Bianca scurried around to an gargantuan clump of bushes at the back of Studio 37 and slid open the brush-covered door, wide enough to drive a '57, black, evil Caddy through. Back inside the underground level, erica and Bianca settled into a couple of Natalie's red easy chairs - a perfect match with her 3 walls - a pint of Haagen Daas and a spoon in erica's hand and a plate heaped with chocolate chocolate cake and a fork in Bianca's. "I suppose we should sshekk bac nntoo CRRK pwutty sooon, huh, Bwud?" "Bianca, you hog, don't eet wib yo moww - ow! cohd! - wib yo mowf fuull... Yeh, aee suhpo so." They switched desserts. "Do you tink isz sape... sape... safe?" "There's so much going on dat dey'b pwobowy fogahtn aboud uf." "Yeah. " " Uh huh." Cake bits rained onto erica's jeans. She scooped them up and shook them into the trash bin under Nat's sink. " Well, we'd better get going." ********************************************************************* THAT Stupid We're Not! by Raymond E. Heuer (N&NPack) August 2, 1996 11:27 PM "I'm sorry, General, he was most insistant that he speak to you personally," Denise said. "Very well," grumbled LaCroix, nearly grabbing the phone from her. "This is Lucien LaCroix." "Mr. LaCroix, I'm sorry to call at this hour, and I know you have a radio show to prepare for, but in matters like this, we prefer to speak directly to the cardholder." "You are speaking to him, but you are not saying anything worth hearing," said Uncle in his most intimidating tone. "Yes sir. As I'm sure you know, your Platinum card was reported stolen on the 28th, and we were informed that it had not been used for a least a week previously." "And you felt obliged to tell me this?" "Well, sir, there were a number of large purchases of electronic equipment made on that card on the 27th and 28th ..." "Yes, and as you were informed ..." "But sir, the purchases were all signed for by an employee of yours." LaCroix, outraged at being interrupted, caught himself and repeated, "an employee of _mine_, you say?" "Yes sir. A Mr. Miklos. We checked with each vendor and they all gave us a similar description. A little under 6 feet, stocky, dark hair and eyes, pale complexion, and an Eastern European accent." "That does sound like Miklos, but I assure you he left my employ some time ago." "I see, sir. However, we will be unable to pursue a Fraud investigation until an investigator comes and interviews you, inspects your employment records, that sort of thing." "I do not trouble myself with such details, speak to my manager," LaCroix casually handed the phone back to Denise, turned on his heel, and left. "Don't worry. I have everything under control, " Denise grinned wickedly. ********************************************************************* End War 7 File 6 *********************************************************************