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

Down Will Come Baby, Cradle And All
by Catherine Boone and Perri Smith

Takes place before The Prodigal Vamp

Aug 3, 3 a.m.
Nick's loft

"Perri and Cath, this is Tigon. Tigon, Perri and Cath." Maryann
performed the introductions, then got out of the way.

The leaders of the Knighties sized up the leader of the Woofpack --
Perri with thinly-veiled distaste, Cath with even more thinly-veiled
amusement. Tigon just looked nervous -- she'd been in the loft before,
but hadn't strictly 'met' the two co-leaders. "Where's the Plot Device
from Hell?'" Perri growled before anyone could say anything.

Tigon looked confused. "Perry the dog,' Catherine explained.

"Oh," Tigon said. "He's in the van - I heard there were allergies up
here."

"Yup, and lots of 'em," Cath said cheerfully. "But I'm sure there are
lots of Knighties who would like to meet Perry.. the dog, that is."

Perri shot her co-leader a dirty look, grumbled under her breath and
left the conversation. Cath started laughing.

Tigon started smiling. "She's still having a fit over that?"

"Yes," fourteen Knighties answered in unison. Perri grumbled more
loudly and stalked over to a pile of equipment, including paint cans.

Tigon started laughing. "What's the plan, Cath?"

Cath managed to get control enough to talk. "Well, we're going to the
Raven..."

********

Aug 3, 5 a.m.

The party was winding down.  *Had* wound down, in fact.  The Raven was
a mess, Janette and Miklos had gone into hiding at some point or
other, and the Ravenettes were dead beat.   But finally everyone had
been kicked out the door, and they could all collapse in chairs,
stools, or whatever was nearest available.

They were just about ready to think about finding some floor space for
the night, when Lizbet came wandering up the stairway from the wine
cellar, looking a little dazed.  Susan got up to shuffle her out the
door, wondering how many more people were going to come out of the
woodwork long, *long* after the party was supposed to end, and took
her by the arm.  It was at that point that Lizbet appeared to notice
her. "Wow, some party, huh?  You guys put on quite a floor show."

"Yeah, well, we aim to please, wouldn't do well to have a club that
couldn't even throw a proper birthday party."

"Does he always catalogue the wine in a G-string?"

Susan gave her a decidedly even look, one that says <exactly *how*
much have you had to drink, and do you have enough money in your
pockets to pay for a cab?>.  "What?"

"Miklos.  He's downstairs cataloguing the wine in a G-string.  I don't
know *how* you convinced him to pull that off, but I tellya, it's
quite a performance.  You guys are missing out, big time."

The Ravenettes perked faster than the Perks themselves.  On a good
day.

"*WHAT*?!?"

"Mikki?  In a G-string?"

"Where's Janette?"

"Probably down there taking in the view for herself."

"And she didn't invite us?  I can't believe it!"

"I'm not sure I believe *any* of this."

"Well, are you gonna sit here arguing about it, or are you gonna find
out? Me, I'm checking *right now*!"

"You said it!"  "I'm there!"  "Mikiiiiii!"  The Ravenettes rushed en
masse for the wine cellar.  Susan eloquently raised her eyes
heavenward, gave Lizbet a disapproving look, reached under the bar,
tucked a supersoaker under her arm, and went to go hose some hormones
down the drain.

No one noticed the fact that Lizbet followed them back down, locking
the door to the wine cellar behind them.  Not until it was too late,
of course.

Lizbet walked back out to the sidewalk, found the alley across the
street, and gave a thumbs-up. Then she straightened her new trenchcoat
and left.

Catherine's jaw dropped as she and Perri came out of hiding, motioning
to the others behind them to follow.  "Well, I *will* be dipped.  They
actually fell for it."

"I told you they would.  With the way they were drooling over him in
war 5?  We could have told them he was on the moon, and they would
have stolen a shuttle to check."

"I guess I can't argue, if they're going to write themselves that
way..."

"They're as bad as Methos and his Flagwavers."

Catherine nodded, understanding at last.  "Heck, if it were the Old
Guy down there... which, of course, it wouldn't be, since it's *just a
tv show*..." she made a sour face at the world in general, "I'd be
down there like a flash.  Even if it was a trap."

"Me, too. And my point is made."

"They're still gonna be pissed, though."

Perri snorted at the obvious understatement.  "Which is why we're
doing our job and getting the hell out of here.  By the time they get
out, we'll hopefully be long gone."

"Or else we'll be meat on a rack."

Grimacing, Perri muttered, "Thank you for that visualization.  For
that you get to hang the mobiles."

Catherine affected a hurt look. "Oh, you *wound* me, Perri."

"I'm sure. Where's the dog?" Perri asked Tigon, who whistled; the
other Perry appeared at her side, hauling three Woofpackers with him.

Perri handed Tigon a vest and Tigon knelt down in front of Perry,
offering it to him. "Find this smell, Perry. Find this."

Perry took a whiff, the took off -- literally; the three Woofpackers
on his leash were almost lifted off the ground. They managed to keep
their feet and followed the dog, half a crusade of Knighties tagging
behind them.

Cath smirked. "I have a hunch that dog is gonna go straight for the
bedroom."

Perri grimaced. "No, you don't.  And neither do I."

"If they do, I'm not gonna look."

"Come on, Cath, Janette hasn't lived here for months, remember?
Lacroix was around for a long time."

Cath's mouth twitched up.  "I have a hunch those dogs are gonna go
straight for the bedroom."

"Don't go there, Cath."

Her eyes went wide.  "Don't tell me, tell him,"  she pointed.

"Oh god."  Perri went to the bedroom to investigate; Cath's smirk got
wider as she watched the show.

Halfway there, Perri realized she was alone and turned around.  "What
are you waiting for?  Come on."

Cath emphatically shook her head.  "As ordered, I am *not* going
there."

"Chicken."

"B-gaw."  Cath squawked and flapped her arms, then started looking for
a drink before turning to her own work. "Okay, we need painters on all
four walls..."

A few minutes later, Perri yell, "Cath, get in here!  You gotta see
this!"

Cath turned to Vicky, who was painting the wall next to her. "Think I
should bring this?" she asked, looking at her drink.

"I think you'll regret it if you don't."

"Right."  Cath went with a look of forced courage.

Perri was in the bedroom, grinning from ear to ear.  "Check it out,
Lacroix's got a hope chest.  Who knew?"

Cath stared open-mouthed at the ornate wooden chest, about knee-
height, and carved with LaCroix's name. "He must have left it behind
when he moved out. How... cute."

"Perky?"

"Stretching it." Cath gulped her drink and went out to find another
one.

*****

Aug 3., 6 a.m.

"Finished?" Perri asked an hour later.

Cath was just supervising the last of the quick-dry paint. "As soon as
the sound system is ready. You know, they have a brand-new one."

"Cool," Perri grinned.

"Any luck with the book?"

"Nope." Perri made a face. "But I know more about Janette's personal
habits than I *ever* wanted to know. The woman owns the *entire*
Frederick's of Hollywood catalogue. Not to mention half of Elizabeth
Arden and most of Neiman Marcus. How many clothes does one person
need?"

Catherine shrugged, put the finishing touches on her flower, and
called out over her shoulder.  "Okay, guys, it's almost time to go.
Are we all done here? Suzanne and Marg have the cars running out back,
so let's just pick up all our respective stuff and get the heck outta
here.  Hey, Robbi, pick up those extra rolls and the glue, would you? 
Thanks.  Courtney, y'all got the music set up on infinite repeat?
Great!"  Everyone bustled around while Catherine beat down the lid on
the last paint can.  In mere minutes the place was cleaned out of
Knighties and their equipment, leaving the Raven just as they had left
it.  Plus a few minor changes.

Catherine grabbed her paint can, and took one last look at the new and
improved Raven.  Nancy spoke up from behind her.  "She's going to die
when she finds this, you know."

"Who, Susan or Janette?"

"Both."

"I believe it."  Catherine found a satisfied smile spreading across
her face.  "It's beautiful.  It's perfect.  Did I ever tell you about
the dream I had that gave me this idea?  Oh, it was the *best*..."

They pushed "play" on the stereo in the back room, turned up the
volume, locked the door, and walked away.

** **

The Raven's cellar doors came open *finally*.  Janette scowled with
annoyance.  She really should have replaced that cellar door long ago
with one that *wasn't* solid steel on the inside.  She had heard of
what had happened to Lacroix last war, but she had never imagined the
same impenetrable door being used against *her*.

But that was before two dozen manic Ravenettes came flying into the
cellar, nearly attacking Miklos in their frenzy while she was getting
him caught up on recent happenings as he occupied his hands with
cataloguing wine.  The door clicked shut, the bolt dropped and they
were stuck.  It took the combined force of both vampires and not a few
of the stronger Ravenettes to finally pound the door down.

Time to survey the damage.  Janette was first up the narrow stairway,
keeping her eyes to the stairs as she carefully navigated the old wood
in her new heels.  Still a new feeling, but definitely an improvement.
When she got to the last step, she was able to look up at the Raven
proper. And stopped dead.

It wasn't until those toward the bottom started noisily complaining
that she finally moved slightly so they could get past her.  And they
stopped dead as well.

The walls were now wallpapered with dancing bears, elephants with
floppy hats, and baby chicks with sailor costumes.  Where dark chains
used to hang, now circled blockish plastic mobiles in bright red,
yellow, and blue.  The bar had been painted pastel pink and baby blue,
with little yellow and white flowers on the side.  And in the back,
one could make out a lullaby wafting from the back door.

The picture of comfort and content.

Janette turned on one heel, and glided back to her own room, shutting
the door behind her.

Everyone let out a small sigh of relief, only for the door to open
again almost immediately.  A baby cradle went flying, and made a
mighty crash against the far wall.

The door closed again with finality.


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


Waking Up in a New World
by Ravens Cynthia Hoffman and Jane Credland
Date: August 3, 1996 at 6:30 a.m.
Concurrent with and following Down Will Come Baby, Cradle And All


"So, how did you like your first con?"  Cynthia asked Jane.

"It was great.  I had fun.  That Highlander mini-con was pretty
disorganized but I still enjoyed it."  Jane pushed on the brake and
slowed the car down, cursing the construction on the Gardiner
Expressway that created a mini-rush hour this early in the morning on
a Saturday.

Cynthia yawned and stretched.  "Can't wait to get back though.  I
didn't expect that room party to go all night."

"Was anything scheduled to happen while we were gone?"

"Nothing much.  There was a party for some cousin or other, and Bonnie
finally came back to sing.  That's about it.  It was supposed to be a
pretty quiet couple of nights.  That's why I thought it was okay for
us to take the time."  Cynthia flipped open her seat belt as Jane
pulled the car into the reserved parking spot.  "Let's go.  I need to
get some sleep."

They entered the Raven through the door in the alley.  The back rooms
were deserted.  They followed the sound of voices to the bar, and
stopped dead in their tracks.  Jane clamped her hand over Cynthia's
mouth before she could say something she might regret later.

"The chains," Jane wailed.  "They took my chains away.  They're gonna
regret this."

Cynthia threw Jane's hand off her mouth.  "I can't do this right now. 
I won't do this again.  Tell Janette we'll talk about how to handle
this this afternoon.  Right now, I'm going to sleep."

She stalked off towards the back room, pausing only briefly to smash
what was left of the cradle into toothpick-size fragments.


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


While She Sleeps
by Ravens Cynthia Hoffman and Jane Credland
Date: August 3, 1996 at about 8:00 a.m.
Following Coming Home


The Raven/ettes all stared at Cynthia's disappearing back, then turned
to Susan for suggestions.  Well, they turned to where Susan had been
standing. While everyone else watched Cynthia demolish the cradle,
Susan had vanished.

"Now what?"  Lana sat down abruptly on a chair.

Jane started to follow her partner, and then changed her mind.  If
Cynthia could survive without sleep, then so could she. "Now we re-
decorate the Raven ... again."

Lorelei picked up one of Cynthia's purple pens from behind the bar and
tapped it thoughtfully on the counter.  "We should try to get it done
before Cynthia wakes up.  Having to do it for a third time is not
going to put her in a better mood."

"It couldn't hurt."  Felicia joined Lana at the table.

"It probably won't do any good at all.  Still, we can try.  So, who's
going to go out and get paint and paintbrushes?"  Jane asked. "There
are enough of us.  If we start now, we should be done in a couple of
hours."

One by one, all the Raven/ettes shook their heads, looking confused.
Tara finally spoke up, "You're not suggesting that we do it ourselves
are you?"

"Why not?"

"We're Raven/ettes.  We don't paint walls.  We hire people to do
things like that."  Tara explained slowly and patiently, giving Jane
the benefit of the doubt because she hadn't been a Raven/ette that
long.  "What we need to do is find the names of the people Cynthia
used, and give them a call."

"They should be in her notebook."  Jane was still trying to get her
head around the idea that her fellow affiliation members were not
going to just go out and do it themselves.  Her grandfather had always
taught her that if you wanted a job done right, you did it yourself.
Then again, her grandfather had been the worst painter known to man --
uneven was a definite understatement for the way walls looked when he
was finished.

"And her notebook is where?"  Tara asked Jane.

"Umm.. I'm not sure."  Jane admitted.  "The last time I saw it was
when she was redecorating the first time, and that was ages ago.
Plus, I was half asleep."

"Why don't you go check your bedroom and we'll look out here."
Felicia suggested.

Jane hesitated.  "You want me to go in there?  When she's in this kind
of mood?"

"Hey, she's least likely to hurt you."  Catherine poked her head out
of her book.  "If one of us went in there, we might not come out
alive."

"Maybe."  Jane said doubtfully.  "In this mood, I'm not so sure.  How
about we look everywhere else first?"

"Sure."  Catherine put down her book and nudged Jasmine, who simply
shook her head and dove deeper into her thesis.

And, so the Raven/ettes looked.  They searched the bar and the
basement, then worked their way through each and every one of the back
rooms.  A couple of them even got up into the attic and looked there. 
A search party had to be sent up to rescue them.  Then, a search party
to rescue the search party.  By the time Jane finally got up into the
attic, all the other Raven/ettes were standing around trunks and
trunks of Janette's old clothing, oohing and aahing and holding them
up against themselves.  Chris and Michael were standing off to one
side, enjoying the show.  Persuasion and threats to destroy clothing
and make them wear polyester finally forced them all back downstairs.

Catherine stood in front of Jane.  "You have to do it."

"It's nowhere else to be found."  Lorelei turned Jane around and
pointed her in the direction of her and Cynthia's room, then gave a
little shove.

Tiptoeing as quietly as she could, Jane opened the door.  She poked
around as silently as possible, heart thudding every time she made the
slightest noise.  Finally, she found the notebook.  Unfortunately, it
was in Cynthia's hand, half under the pillows.  Jane reached out
carefully.  Her fingers were millimetres away from the book when
Cynthia suddenly rolled over, muttering in her sleep about vampires
and paint splatters and new looks.

The book was now underneath Cynthia.

Jane rapidly withdrew her hand.  //Uh..uh.  No way in hell.  If they
don't want to paint, we'll just have to start making some phone
calls.//

Clicking the door quietly shut, she went to rejoin the rest of the
Raven/ettes.  "There's good news and bad news.  The good news is that
I found the notebook.  The bad news is that she's sleeping on top of
it."

"Guess you didn't pull it out from under her."  Lorelei handed Jane a
diet coke (tm).

"Nope.  I like my head exactly where it is, thank you very much."
Jane picked up the Yellow Pages (tm) from behind the bar and pulled
out a chair. "Does anyone remember which companies she hired?"


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


A Case of the Munchies
By Courtney Hilliard, Knightie
Date: Saturday, August 3 1996, early morning
Place: Nick's loft
---------------

Catherine leaned back into the couch and sighed.  It was nice to be
able to sit down and relax for a bit - she felt as if she'd been
continuously on the go since this whole thing had started. She looked
around the loft, and saw that most of the Knighties present still
looked fairly energetic, although there were a few who were sleeping
soundly amidst the general chatter.  And there was one, over there in
the corner....Catherine squinted (*I knew it was a mistake to take out
my contacts*), gave up, and got off the couch to go see who the
huddled figure in the corner was.

As soon as she got closer, she could see that it was Courtney, utterly
absorbed in a book from Nick's collection.  In fact, when Catherine
thought about the past few days, she realized that most of the times
that she'd seen Courtney in the loft, Courtney had been in this same
pose - curled up with a book, albeit a different book each time.

"Courtney?"

Courtney made no sign that she'd heard, and continued to read, intent
upon the book.  Catherine smiled, knowing from past experience that
Courtney was probably totally unaware of the outside world's
existence.  Ha, but she knew just how to catch Courtney's attention...

"Watch this," she remarked to a nearby Knightie.  She leaned down
close to Courtney, and suddenly yelled, "Look! It's Tom Veil!!!"

Instantly, the book was tossed aside as Courtney leaped up, trying to
look in every direction at once and shouting "Where? Where?"

"Who's Tom Veil?"  asked the watching Knightie, impressed by the
reaction.

"Oh, he's the main character in "Nowhere Man". As Knighties are to
Nick, Courtney is to Tom Veil,"  Catherine explained.  She turned to
her friend.  "Sorry, Courtney, he isn't really here.  I just wanted to
talk to you."

Courtney smiled. "I was ignoring you for my book, wasn't I?  You know
how it is with a good book..." Catherine nodded.  "Anyway, so what's
up?"

"Well, I'd just realized that you've been kinda quiet, haven't been
out and about Toronto much.  I thought I'd drag you away from Nick's
book collection, 'cause I've got something that maybe you can help me
take care of,"  Catherine said.

"Sure thing," Courtney said. "Although Nick sure does have a great
selection of sci-fi..."

Noticing the dreamy look start to re-appear in the Knightie's eyes,
Catherine hurriedly took her by the arm and led her over to the couch,
away from any books.

"So, you know how the Cousins broke in and took Nick's bike?  Well, I
think we shouldn't let a deed like that go unrepaid, and I'm sure you
can think of a little something.  You know, nothing too...exciting...
after all, it's not like they took the Caddie or anything.  I mean, if
he *really* loved the bike, he'd have *used* it once or twice, don't
you think?"  Catherine was happy to see a wide grin on Courtney's face
as she nodded.

"No problem."

----------------------------------
(Time: 1pm, same day)

It was a much dirtier Courtney, with grass-stains on her jeans and a
few bits of twigs in her wildly curly hair, that was sitting on a
bench a few blocks away from CERK.  She looked down at the nondescript
package beside her.  *Well, I had to go quite a distance to get what I
wanted, but hey! I got to do a little hiking, of a sort." She missed
being able to go out and hike in the mountains like she normally did
at home in Colorado. *Cities, ugh.*

She glanced up and saw that what she had been waiting for had arrived.
A mail truck.  A phone call to a college friend from Canada who had a
friend in the postal service had paid off.  A man got down from the
truck and approached her.  "Hey, are you Courtney?"

"Yeah."  She handed him the package, which had a beautifully
professional looking label (courtesy of her advisor's terrific
computer equipment) which indicated that the package was for the
Nightcrawler, c/o CERK, from the company that ordinarily supplied CERK
equipment (She'd done her homework on the UPS web).  "Can you deliver
this for me?"

He looked at the label. "Sure thing.  That address is on my normal
rounds, and I have a few other things to deliver there anyway."

"Great."  Courtney smiled.  Time to head back to the loft and get
somewhat cleaned up.

--------------------------------
(Time: same day, late afternoon)

The package ended up with the other daily mail, sitting in the
Nightcrawler's office at CERK.  As time passed, a faint sound could be
heard from it, growing louder, sounding almost like...munching. More
time passed.  A small hole appeared in the side of the package,
gradually getting bigger.  From inside the package crawled a big,
black, fuzzy caterpillar.  It had a small plastic tag attached, that
said "Right Eyebrow".  A small horde of caterpillars followed, each
with their own tag saying "Right Eyebrow" or "Left Eyebrow".
Voraciously hungry, and apparently not picky at all, they began to
spread out in the office, chomping vigorously both on the remains of
the package and on the various papers lying around.

*********

"Hey, Courtney, did you have a good day?"  Catherine asked, eyeing all
the dirt and grass stains on the clothing that Courtney tossed into
her pile of stuff in the corner.

"Yep!"  Courtney smirked.  She retrieved her book from its resting
place and sat down, happily humming to herself.  "I should get out and
see Toronto more often."


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


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.


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


A DieHard Gets Kidnapped
By Elizabeth Ann Lewis
Saturday, August 3rd
Carbondale, Il
About 10 AM

"Ooo, it's nice to be away from Toronto for a few hours," Lizbet
sighed. Her tenure this War had been high-profile and stressful.  When
she had had to switch the party from Friday night to Saturday night at
the last minute, she was fairly certain Tigon was going to take her
head, so bugging out seemed a good option.

She flew into O'Hare airport and had to run for her connecting flight
to the Southern Illinois Airport.  Luckily, she was the daughter of a
pilot, so the tiny, tiny, dragonfly-sized airplane didn't bother her. 
Once in Carbondale, she spent a few moments checking her street map
(and wilting from the humidity) before hailing a cab.  "Brentwood
Commons," she told the cabbie.

She was dropped off outside of a motel-like apartment structure.  No
walls, no doormen, nothing.  A small smile crossed her face.  "Getting
Laura out of this place will be a snap."

She crossed to the west side of the building, knocking on the middle
door. "Candygram!" she called.  She heard grousing, grumbling noises
within, although the salutation made Laura move faster than she
normally would have, like any good Methos Flag Waver.

"Who's't?"

"Avon lady."  Lizbet glanced to either side.  Really, *really* loopy-
looking people were around here.  Lizbet decided to stop being cute,
and also seriously began reconsidering getting her PhD, if *this* was
how you lived while getting it.  "Laura, it's Lizbet.  Open up!"  She
took another look around and her voice went shrill.
"Laura-there's-a-woman-without-a-top-out-here-and-she-is-really-
scaring-me! Let me in!"

Laura opened the door, yanked Lizbet in, and shut it.  "What on earth
are you doing here?  I thought you were in Toronto!"

Lizbet merely looked innocent.  "Are you finished with your thesis?"
she asked sweetly.

"Yes, I just finished the first complete draft of it.  Why?"

Lizbet smiled and pulled a silk rope out of her bag.  "Because, I'm
kidnapping you."

Laura's eyes bugged out.  Granted, in *this* War they weren't in the
same affiliation, but she never thought her fellow MFW would turn on
her. Sputtering, all she could ask was "Why?" again.

Lizbet grinned.  "Because the alternative would be unthinkable."


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


Gary and Rick WHO???
By Lana G. Soward, Unaffiliated
Day/time:  Saturday, August 3, 10:00 am
Location:  Diane's room at the hospital



Lana was still sitting by Diane's chamber when Adrian and Nigel walked
in. If it hadn't been for the fact that her clothes changed daily,
Adrian would have sworn she'd never left.

"Do you live here now?"  Adrian asked.

"Yes.  Do you come in pairs now?" snapped Lana.  "What's the matter
Dr. Wetmore, you afraid that we'll bite?"

"Of course not," retorted Nigel, the barb shooting too close to home. 
Then he remembered his professional demeanor.  "I just wanted my
brother to look in.  After all, spending so much time at the hospital
can't be good for you. I know that you are worried about Diane, but if
you aren't careful, you'll end up in the bed next to her."  He looked
around.   "Where are your friends?"

"They are out," said Lana cautiously.  No way was she going to tell
them what the others were up to.  They really would haul her away to
the Mental Clinic.  "They're probably out chasing after your twin
brothers."

"Twin brothers?"  Adrian looked at Nigel.  There weren't any twins in
the Wetmore family.  "We don't have any twin brothers."

"Well, I have e-mail saying that some people met a pair of twin
Wetmores, Gary and Rick," said Lana.  She flipped open her laptop and
brought up Eudora.  She quickly located the piece of email and pointed
to the display. "There.  Gary and Rick.  The Stunt Double Wetmores."

"Stunt Double Wetmores?"  Adrian was outranged.  He'd never required a
stunt double in his life.  "They are impostors."

"Well, people think they are related to you,"  said Lana, as she
closed her laptop.

"We'll just see about that," said Adrian.  He took out his cell phone
and quickly dialed a number.

"Who do you usually call when you have a problem?" asked Adrian, as he
listened to the phone ring.

"Ghostbusters," said Nigel and Lana together.

"Mother," said Adrian looking at them annoyed.

***

Even though Mrs. Wetmore (no one even thought of calling her MarySue)
was nearing retirement age, the idea of retiring was never mentioned
in her presence.  From the top of her silver hair to the tips of her
designer shoes, she cut a formidable figure at the Immigration office.
When her son called her and said that there were two people pretending
to be Wetmores, her entire staff almost  fled the office as they
listened to her explosion, through the closed doors.  After the phone
call, she'd come charging out, demanding any and all information on
the two pretenders.

After that, it took no time at all.  Soon the house where the
impostors were staying was surrounded by police and immigration
officials.  Leading the charge into the house was Adrian's mother:
Mary Sue Wetmore.

The police captain who'd arrived at the scene did mention that she
might want to stay behind.

Mrs. Wetmore fixed him to the spot with her steely eyes.

"I've played football against the best in Australia," she said, as she
buckled the bullet proof jacket across her buxom chest.  "Don't think
that a couple of low life impostors are going to cause me any
trouble."

"If you say so ma'am," said the police captain, knowing when to back
down. He hefted the bull horn up and demanded that the two surrender
themselves.

Minutes passed, but there was no response.

Finally, the police lobbied tear gas into the house and broke down the
doors, with MarySue Wetmore leading the charge.  She burst through the
front door and quickly brought down one of the impostors with a flying
tackle that sent them skidding across the floor.   The other impostor
was quickly apprehended as he tried to climb through the window.

Once the impostors were safely under arrest, it was discovered that
they're real names were Sylvester and Arnold Flatuactor, two out of
work actors who'd come across the border earlier in the month.  They
were summarily bundled into an immigration paddy wagon and carted to
the Canadian/American border where they were unceremoniously dumped,
after being fingerprinted and photographed.

"Wait," Sylvester cried.  "How are we to get back to Santa Barbara?"

"That's not the Canadian government's concern," said Mrs. Wetmore, as
she climbed back into the van.  "You should have thought about that
before you decided to masquerade as members of my family."

The van and paddy wagon roared into life and sped back to Toronto.

***
This concludes any creation of the clan Wetmore for the duration of
War 7.

The Wetmore clan are the creation and property of Lana G. Soward
(lgs@ix.netcom.com) and Jane Credland (janes@interlog.com) and may not
be moved, created, folded, spindled, or mutilated without their
permission.

The currently existing Wetmores are:
Adran Wetmore - psychiatrist
Nigel Wetmore - general Physician
Mary Sue Wetmore - Adrian's mother and head of Immigration
Mitch Wetmore - Adrian and Nigel's second cousin and hairdresser.


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


RavenettePackers?
by Amparo Bertram (NatPack)

Time: Morning through evening
Place: NatPack Hostel; shopping mall
Day: Saturday, 8/3/96

Jill gazed into a closet filled to bursting with elegant gowns and
party dresses. She sighed forlornly. "I have *nothing* to wear!"

Amparo paused on her way to the kitchen. "What are you talking about?
You've bought more clothes since last week than the rest of us
combined--and we all had to replace our stolen luggage."

Jill eyed her pityingly. "My dear child, there are nuances to building
a wardrobe you simply will never understand. Important matters of
color, cut, degree of formality, availability of matching
accoutrements, status of previous wear..." She shook her head. "Either
one knows these things, or one does not." Her expression made it clear
she felt the other NatPacker belonged firmly in the latter category.

"Let me guess," Pod speculated. "You need to go shopping again?"

"_Absolutement_."

"Do you mind if I come with you, then? You can teach me all about how
to be stylish," she hastened to add. "I really want to learn. If I get
to meet Nick, I want to dazzle him. Besides, I need to pick up some
socks."

Jill needed little time to come to a decision. "Of course you may."
Everyone had the inalienable right to *shop*, after all, and though
the girl tended toward <shudder> jeans and T-shirts, at least she had
gained a reputation for the few occasions she was willing to dress up.
Anyone who could kill a washing machine with one dress might make a
promising protege. "And since a certain person won't let our chauffeur
out of her sight, *you* may drive the limo."

Just as they were about to leave, Jennie came rushing up to them, in
all her brilliant orange glory. "Wait!" she called. "I want to come,
too! I thought of a few more--"

"Yes, yes," Jill interrupted, to prevent the Pack's fearless leader
from mentioning *that color* again. "Come along."

***

The three arrived at the mall without incident, happily enough. Jennie
bounced ahead gleefully to take care of her own affairs, while Jill
led Amparo to the first shop on their agenda, marching sedately.

"Let us get the practical items to start with," she said, not deigning
to utter the word "socks." "Then we make an appointment at the beauty
salon for later this afternoon--giving them adequate time to prepare
for our arrival--and proceed to lunch. Serious shopping comes next,
followed by our makeovers, and finally we treat ourselves to a nice
meal at the best restaurant we can find. _Oui_?"

"Sounds great to me," Amparo agreed wholeheartedly.

They made quite a splash at the first clothing store, Jill strenuously
objecting to the other NatPacker's choices. A salesperson hurried to
assist them, pointing out the wide selection of designer items,
whereupon Jill graciously admitted they were acceptable. Barely.

They attempted to make an appointment at the same salon to which they
had taken Maureen, but oddly enough the place closed just as they
approached. "Strange," Jill mused, "this is rather early...still,
perhaps they have suffered an emergency." They easily located a
similar shop and scheduled two complete makeovers for that evening.

Their morning business concluded, they went to a small--yet tasteful--
Thai restaurant and chatted amiably about recent events and past Wars.
"Remember when Vachon hypnotized Amy into thinking she was Janette?"
Pod asked, using her chopsticks to push her vegetables aside so she
could get to the tofu. "She fooled a lot of people, for a while, she
looks so much like the vampire. I hear she even got to kiss Nick," the
girl sighed.

"It's a shame her sense of style went back to normal when she
recovered," Jill put in. "She dresses like..." she groped for a
description, coming up only with, "...like a NatPacker."

Amparo giggled. "The look on her face a few weeks ago, when you
critiqued her newest Janette costume--! That was priceless. Amy
thought she had the corner on the NatPackers' Janette market, but
lately you've got her beat hands down, though you don't look a thing
like her."

Jill fluffed her hair. "Naturally," she replied. Then her gaze grew
distant, her face draining of all expression. "A part of me wants to
be more like Janette," she recited mechanically.

"Me, too," Pod said. "However, I'd much rather be *comfortable*.
Unless I have a *special* reason."

They completed their lunch and resumed vital shopping activities. It
didn't take long to discover that most of the shops were already low
on Goth outfits. Fortunately, neither of them had tastes restricted to
that one area of fashion, and so they had a splendid time going
through what the various places had to offer.

Though Jill's arms filled with packages almost effortlessly, Amparo
had a great deal of difficulty making up her mind. She searched for
something perfect, something Nick would take one look at and melt, the
way *she* melted whenever she thought of him.

After several hours she was about to give up, when she spotted a flash
of deep russet fabric. She reached past a pink filmy gown to pull out
the most gorgeous dress she had ever seen. The rich main color had
accents threaded through it, gold and coppery red. It was cut to hug
her anatomy in precisely the most strategic locations, yet flared just
enough to sway with her hips when she walked or danced.

Speechless, she held it up for her companion's inspection. "Excellent,
_cherie_!" Jill exclaimed with pride at her student's success.
"Unmistakably shy and unquestionably retiring."

They paid for their selections and left the shop, spotting Jennie
instantly. How could they *not*? The Leader of the Pack was bopping
from one store to another, her clothes so bright she would have been
visible even if the other two hadn't replaced their glasses.

"Hey, guys!" she called when she saw them. She waved her latest
purchases, a stuffed tiger and an orange feather duster, over her head
excitedly. "Look what I found!"

"_Merde_!" Jill muttered under her breath. "Let's get her out of here.
Now."

The two non-orange NatPackers grabbed Jennie, one on each arm, and
escorted her forcefully to the limo, to general applause from the
innocent bystanders.


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


When She Woke Up
by Raven Cynthia Hoffman
Date: August 3, 1996 at about 12:00 noon
Consecutive to While She Sleeps


"What about Fantasy Finishes?" Catherine asked.

Jane shook her head and sighed.  "Can you see Cynthia hiring someone
with that name?"

"Guess not."

"Crown Painting?"  Lana pulled the Yellow Pages from Catherine.

"Doesn't ring a bell."  Chris flipped over a page in the other phone
book they'd found in the office.  "Artistic Design Decorators?"

"She called them.  They couldn't do the job in the time we had."
Melanie leaned over Chris' shoulder.  "There's one here called By
Visual Concepts."

Felicia said thoughtfully, "Don't think so.  I'm sure it had something
familiar in the name.  I just don't remember what."

"Wait a minute.  We've been poring over these listing for ages, but we
forgot to take the most important thing into consideration."  Lorelei
slammed Lana's copy of the Yellow Pages shut.

"Which is?"  Jane inquired.

"That we're talking about Cynthia here."  Lorelei smiled.  "Is there a
Lavender Pages in Toronto?"

"No, but there is a Women's Yellow Pages."  Cynthia answered from the
doorway.  "What are you looking for anyway?"

Everyone turned to Jane and waited for her to answer.  "Um... well,
love. It's kind of like this.  We ... uh... wanted to surprise you."

"Surprise me, huh?  With what?"

"We thought we'd get the renovations done before you woke up, but
there was a slight problem."

"Problem?"  Cynthia crossed her arms and waited.

"My idea was that we would buy some paint and brushes and do it
ourselves..."

"But I nixed that."  Tara interrupted.

"No kidding."  Cynthia laughed, getting a kick out of the
uncomfortable shuffling going on around the table.  "Then what?"

Jane swallowed hard.  "Then, we decided to find your notebook because
we knew the names of the firms you used would be in there but we
didn't want to wake you up so we searched everywhere and then they got
caught in the attic with Janette's old clothes, and you wouldn't
believe what I had to do to get them out of there, and when we finally
found it, you were sleeping on it, so we decided we would try to
figure out who you called, but none of us could remember the name of
the painter and the Yellow Pages were no help."

Cynthia took a deep breath for her partner.  She still hadn't figured
out how Jane did that without breathing.  She opened her mouth to
retort, but the picture of Raven/ettes trying to do massive and dirty
reconstruction (even with Jane's encouragement) was just too much for
her.  She started laughing, and laughed and laughed and laughed --
until tears were streaming down her face and she had to pull the
inhaler out of her fanny pack.

"You're laughing.   And this place still looks like the nursery rhyme
from hell."  Janette stood next to Cynthia -- no-one had heard her
approach.  She turned to the mortal beside her.  "When are you going
to do something about this?  The Raven opens in a few hours, and we
certainly can't do it like this."

"Some friends of mine run a club in San Francisco and they decorated
their place by having a splatter party."  Cynthia hid her grin behind
a poker face.

Janette furrowed her brow momentarily.  "Splatter party?  Qu'est-ce
que c'est splatter party?"

"Well, it's quick and cheap and easy."

"Quick?  Cheap?  Easy?  These are things we want?"  the vampire asked
curiously.  There was, after all, a first time for everything.

"Well, they don't hurt.  This is, after all, the third f****ing time
we've had to redecorate this place this week.  Aren't you tired of
this yet?  I know I am."  Cynthia wandered over to the nearest wall
and traced the outline of a bunny rabbit.  "Besides, these suckers are
kind of cute, and I don't want to cover them up entirely."

Janette did a wonderful imitation of a gaping fish, opening and
closing her mouth repeatedly without saying anything.  This was beyond
her comprehension.  Even 1,000 years had not given her enough
experience to comprehend this particular mortal.

//Hook, line and sinker.// Cynthia thought to herself and suppressed a
giggle.  "Okay, I'll explain a splatter party.  We buy a bunch of
paint, some paintbrushes and rags.  Oh, and lots of tarp for the
floors and furniture.  Then, everyone dresses in the NatPack's clothes
-- we wouldn't want to ruin our own -- and picks up a brush.  Then, we
dip the brushes in the paint and start flinging it at the walls.
Then, when all the paint is gone, we pick up the rags and rub the
semi-dry paint in swirly patterns. The end result is very artistic.
Really!"

"Artistic..."  Janette spluttered.  (You didn't know vampires could
splutter, did you?  Well, not one of them ever has before, but
Cynthia's writing this story.)

"Yeah.  Artistic.  People pay tens of thousands of dollars for this
kind of look."  Cynthia was reaching the end of her ability to keep a
straight face.

MJ poked his head in from the back room.  "Hey, there are trucks
pulling in to the back alley.  Should we be worried?"

"Not if they say Ravnsgaard Painting on them."  Cynthia said, finally
allowing herself to release the smile she'd been holding in.

"Ravnsgaard!"  Lorelei smacked herself on the forehead.  "I knew it
was something familiar."

Cynthia turned to Janette, who was once again gaping like a fish.
"C'mon friend. Let's let the painters do their job.  Meanwhile, I
think it's time you learned a little about humour ... my kind."

***

August 3, 1996 (around 4:30 p.m.)

A short time later, a courier arrived at Merc headquarters.  When
Dianne de Sha answered the door, he said, "Sign here," and walked
abruptly away, leaving the Grand High Poobah herself holding a letter-
sized envelope addressed to Lizbet and/or Dianne, GHP of the mercs.
The return address was the Raven.

**************************************
For those of you who are interested, and can't wait until Dianne opens
it, the envelope contains the following short note signed by Janette
DuCharme:

"Enclosed is the invoice from Ravnsgaard Painters in the amount of
$197,800 for the emergency redecoration of the Raven subsequent to an
attack on August 3, 1996.  Such redecoration being necessitated by the
said attack. Since the only culprit identifiable in said attack was
Lizbet the Merc, we are hereby forwarding the invoice to you for
payment.  We assume she has made appropriate arrangements with her
employer to cover such eventualities. Notwithstanding the lack of such
arrangements, she is liable for the costs. Should she choose not to
pay this invoice, we will take appropriate legal actions including but
not limited to criminal charges and a civil suit for damages and
emotional distress."

And the invoice from Ravnsgaard Painters:

Paint (40 litres, Raven Black @ $40.00/l)
Undercoat
Paintstripper
Steamer rental for wallpaper removal
Miscellaneous supplies, including brushes and rollers
Garbage container rental
Permits for garbage container and to utilize municipal garbage dump

1 ton of chains (various lengths as specified)

Labour to remove wallpaper and stickers, paint walls and ceiling, take
down mobiles and hang chains (estimated at 9.5 hours for 6 people,
charged at quadruple time due to rush job on weekend)

Subtotal of supplies and labour: $172,000
G.S.T @ 7%: $12,040.00
P.S.T. @ 8%: $13,760.00

Total owing: $197,800

Payable upon receipt.  Net 30 days.  8% interest on overdue accounts.


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


A Nocturnal Interlude
By Debra Eve, Vaquera
The Old Church, August 3, around 4:00 am
(After Vachon in Udders, Nightflyer & Silliness at the Church)

Bonnie's voice wafted from the basement as she wound down after a long
night at the Raven.  Upstairs in the computer room, Vachon tilted his
head unconsciously and smiled -- the beautiful music was almost enough
to distract him from plundering Debra's knapsack.

The Vaqueros on security duty with Deb reacted sympathetically. Jay
shrugged and winked, while Jerimi crossed her eyes and rolled them
skyward, the Vaquero signal for "Batten down the hatches, He's at it
again."  Vachon's monomaniacal tendency to dissect mortal possessions
had embarassed most of his crew at some point this past week.  Deb
squared her shoulders and resigned herself to her fate.

Bonnie's singing became more audible as she reached the lower landing:
"The fruits of conquest now begin/Io, triumph enter in/What's this, ye
Gods, what can it be?/Remains there still an enemy?"*

"Find anything interesting yet, Vachon?"  Deb inquired as she
monitored the colored blips from the Church's west side,
unsuccessfully trying to ignore the long-haired, leather-clad vampire
dismantling her knapsack item by item.

"Yeah," Vachon smirked, "Great glow-in-the-dark underwater compass
watch.  And nice Marshaltown trowel.  Perfect, the flower beds haven't
been leveled in decades."

"Hey Jay, weren't you going to ask Vachon about his motorcycle?" Debra
asked pointedly.

"Sure," Jay agreed amiably. "How's the bike, man?"

"Fine," Vachon replied, still rumaging. "Sarah did a great job of
checking it out.   Feel free to take it out anytime."

Blip, blip, blip, went the monitor.  Zip, zip, zip went the backpack.

"Hey, secret pockets," Vachon commented, "this is almost as much fun
as Tracy's kitchen."  He jerked his head up suddenly, pain and
confusion glistening in his eyes.

A hush fell over the Vaqueros. "We still have no word of her, Vachon,
but we'll tell you as soon as we know," Nancy said kindly. Vachon
nodded quickly and stuck his head back in the knapsack.

Just then, Bonnie reached the top of the stairs and opened her arms
theatrically to her comrades, her lovely voice echoing off the rafters
in 17th-century ecstasy:  "Bold Honour stands up in the gate/And would
yet capitulate/Have I o'ercome all real foes/And shall this phantom me
oppose?"

Stephanie stood and announced solemnly, "All hail to Her Invincible
HTML Highness of the Cow Shrine.  All phantoms beware."  The Vaqueras
touched their heads to their sleeping bags in unison, uttering the
single sacred syllable ..."Moo."

Vachon blinked twice and returned to his archaeological knapsack
inventory.  "Look, I've found Deb's little black book," he announced.
"Nope, sorry, her little brown book."

"Field notes, Vachon.  Lots of stuff about Munsell soil color charts
and how many thousands ceramic pieces were found at quad 4, level 7.
Really boring."  Deb warned, eyes glued to her computer monitor.

Vachon shook his long black hair negatively.  "It's a diary, I can
tell.  Am I in it?"  He glanced teasingly at her from under his bangs.

The Vaquera sighed and grinned back. "I liked you better with short
hair.  You were more, um, humble.  Go knock yourself out, Vachon."

The vampire retreated to the basement with the leather book, while the
Vaqueras heaved collective sighs of relief, quickly locking their
suitcases and hiding their purses.  Apache hovered over her laptop in
the corner, surveying Vachon intently.

Down in the basement, Vachon traced the intricately tooled letters
embossed on the cover of the book -- "Deb".  Of course, he thought.
Until he opened it and recognized a medieval Flemish art inventory, a
Latin property list, and who-knows-what-else in several archaic
foreign languages.  He flipped back to the cover and looked more
closely.  No, it read "de B."  De Brabant.  But who had planted it in
the Vaquera's knapsack, and when?  Vachon pocketed the book
thoughtfully.  Maybe it was time for him to track down Knight himself,
and get to the bottom of all this.

________________
* Our talented Bonnie is singing "She loves and she confesses too"
(1656) by Henry Purcell.


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


TIT FOR TAT (01/01)
by Bonnie Pardoe (Vaquero) with thanks to Cousin Lisa McDavid

Saturday, August 3rd, 7pm
Just outside CERK

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Katya was running errands for her fellow Vaqueros when she happened to
pass the offices of CERK radio.  Parked on the street just outside the
station was a black Jaguar sports car with the license plate "DIVS
DAD," a plate frame which read, "I survived Pompeii," and an "I brake
for the CERK Cow" bumper sticker.

\\This has to be his car!\\ Katya thought to herself.  It was just too
big of a coincidence not to be.  Katya, full of youthful exuberance,
was suddenly struck by a brilliant idea.  Being a native of Toronto,
Katya knew that there was a convenience store not far, so she trotted
off in that direction.

A half hour later, Katya was kneeling on the bonnet of the car,
scrawling the words, "Natalie loves LaCroix" across the front
windshield in bright pink lipstick.

Even if it wasn't LaCroix's car, he and the Cousins would certainly
see the message.  \\The Cousins and Nick&NatPackers will certainly
blame the Immortal Beloveds for this!\\  Seen, but unrecognized by
*anyone*, Katya made her way to the subway and safely back to the
church.  She could barely contain her giggles long enough to tell her
fellow Vaqueros of her wicked little prank.


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


Beware Vampires Bearing Gifts (1/1)
by Sandra Gray, Knightie
(with permission of Lisa McDavid)
Saturday, August 3, 8:00 PM


Sandra looked around at the Knighties gathered in Nick's living room. 
A week's worth of searching hadn't turned up the brown book, and Nick
hadn't turned up either.  The other factions had apparently taken
their appearance in Toronto as an invitation to War.  Someone had
stolen the Knighties' socks (no hardship for Sandra since she rarely
wore them in the summer) and they'd been bombarded by stuffed toys.
Nick's motorcycle and credit card had been stolen and recovered, but
the Black Buddha was still gone.

Things were fairly quiet at the moment, and quiet always gave Sandra a
chance to brood.  What if the other factions were searching for the
brown book too?  The possibility worried her, particularly the
possibility that LaCroix might get his hands on it.

LaCroix.  She had tried to avoid thinking about him too much.  But
being back in Toronto had triggered dreams about him again.  And
memories of their last encounter...

*******flashback*******


Time:  Evening, about two weeks after the end of War 5


Sandra got a beer out of the refrigerator and started back into the
living room.  She nearly dropped it on the floor when she saw the
black clad figure standing just inside of the door.

"You really shouldn't leave your door unlocked," said LaCroix.

Sandra was dumbfounded at first before finally managing to say, "What
do you want?"

"I brought you something that I think you will want," replied the
vampire, lifting a *large* black bag in his right hand slightly.

"I don't want anything from you.  And you'd better leave before Bruce-
-"

"We both know that your family is out," said LaCroix.  "Shopping." An
image flashed through Sandra's mind of Bruce and Amanda lying dead in
some parking lot.  "I'm not interested in seeing them. Just you."

"Go away."

"Not until I've given you what I've brought you."  He advanced further
into the living room and set the bag on the floral couch. Sandra moved
against the dining table as he did so, still clutching her beer.
LaCroix turned to her and pulled down the top of the bag some,
revealing the tops of what appeared to be several black videotape
cases.  "I think you may find them interesting."  Sandra looked from
the bag to LaCroix.  "They're the copies of the videos of...us in the
wine cellar."

Sandra released a quick breath, then said, "Yeah, right."

"I assure you.  View them for yourself if you wish.  *Everything* is
there.  Not just the...snippet...sent to Nicolas."

Sandra studied him for a few moments, then said, "Why give them to
me?"

A gleam came into the pale blue eyes for a moment, then passed.
"Although it might have been worth it to see the look on Nicolas' face
when he viewed the tape sent to him, I would have preferred
more...discretion...and certainly no...plans for further
distribution."  Sandra cautiously approached the couch as he spoke and
he moved away from the bag.  From what she could see, there were a
*lot* of tapes in the bag.

Sandra thought about the ad posted on the computer about "music
videos" featuring scenes from the War involving her and LaCroix. They
were even using the song she had been humming as she and LaCroix
played strip poker after a day spent drinking wine and blood
respectively.  She involuntarily closed her eyes at the quick
memories:  of herself in bra and panties watching LaCroix sensuously
strip down to black silk bikinis, her conceding the game even though
she was ahead in favor of...getting closer, the feel of his cool white
marble body and his lips...

"You would not wish them to be distributed either, would you?" came
LaCroix's voice from behind her.

She opened her eyes.  "No," she whispered, her anger at the idea
rising again, as it had done often since she'd read of the plans to
make "music videos" available.

"In fact, you'd like *revenge*, wouldn't you."

*Yes!* she thought.  The idea of her private actions on public
display, what Bruce (or Amanda) might think--

"I can give you the means to get revenge...something Nicolas will not
do."

That distracted Sandra from her anger.  "Nick forgave me."

"But will he help you, *trust* you?"

Sandra walked away from LaCroix and turned to look at him, "You're
just trying to trick me again.  If you wanted revenge, you'd take it. 
You don't need me to do it.  Why would you even bring me the tapes,
*if* they're all even there?"

A strange expression crossed LaCroix's face, then vanished.  He
sighed.  "Indeed, why am I here?"  He reached into his coat pocket and
withdrew a small card.  "Here."  He extended his hand.

Sandra eyed him doubtfully, but as he seemed prepared to stand there
holding the card out to her forever, if need be, she finally took it
from him.  On it was the name of a bank and a series of numbers.
"That is an account I've set up for you to fund your revenge on your
attackers."  Sandra looked at him with a puzzled frown.  "If you
decide to use it...you agree to become a Cousin." She clutched each
end of the card.  "Think carefully before you destroy it," added
LaCroix.

Then suddenly he was gone.


*******end of flashback*******


Her gaze fell on her purse.  The tapes had been destroyed, but the
card she'd tucked into a hidden spot in her wallet.  And, as she had
done many times in the months since LaCroix's visit, she thought about
using the account.  Wondered again why he had made such an offer,
particularly when he hadn't been forthcoming about exactly *who* was
responsible for the attack on her.  Wondered why he hadn't just killed
her in the cellar.

Wondered what was going on.  And wondered where Nick was.


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


"Much Ado" and Peaceful Revels (01/03)
by Christina Kamnikar and the FK Warriors; with special
thanks to Kelly the Natpacker and Dianne la Mercenaire
Saturday, August 3, 8:20 PM
Stratford Shakespeare Festival


"So, what's this one about?" Jamie asked doubtfully, studying the
program given to her outside the Stratford Outdoor Theatre. The ten
Mercs present were all dressed in their trademark dark trenchcoats---
Sara had commented that it looked like a Gathering of Immortals, or
Men in Black---and dressed up in an eclectic array of formal wear.

Jamie was still in leather and lace, Dianne in a hunter-green silk
jumpsuit, Abby in a green silk shirt and black lycra mini, Sonja in
her gold sari, Liz, Sara, Christina and Lizbet in Pre-Raphaelite
flowing silk dresses, Dawn in a black leather mini and high boots, and
Lane had opted for the simplicity of black slacks and silk shirt. He
wasn't any more sanguine about the evening than Jamie, but was willing
to give it a shot, since Chris and Dianne and Sara were so
enthusiastic. The House Mother was almost thrumming with anticipation.

"Will you relax? Would I take you somewhere you wouldn't have a good
time?" Chris responded to her Merc Child in exasperation. At Jamie's
raised eyebrow, she added hastily, "Don't answer that. I don't really
need an answer to that."

Sara interruptted and gave a thumbnail sketch of the play as they
waited for the theatre doors to open. "It's a comedy, about two
lovers--Benedek and Beatrice--tricked into falling in love, and two
younger lovers --Hero & Claudio--separated by a misunderstanding. It
has a happy ending, a wedding, a funeral, and that Scott guy."

"Which Scott guy?" Abby asked, flipping through the program, futilely
looking for a cast list. "Reeves? Baio? Albrecht?" At Chris's look,
she explained, "He's my cousin. A real cutie."

"None of the above," Dianne said. "It's the one Maureen drools over."

"I do not drool." The Mercs turned to see Maureen and four other
bouncy, shiny people who had to be Natpackers, all of them carrying
programs, and barely restraining themselves from hopping in place.
They were as dressed-up as the Mercs, but only Maureen sported a
trenchcoat. "I have *much* more control than that. Scott is... just
someone I truly admire. Spiritually."

"And physically," the taller strawberry-blond Natpacker commented.
"Aesthetics are important, you know." The woman's Aussie accent was
pronounced, and Chris grinned involuntarily. The Janette look-alike
who was weaving in place had to be Amy; and she recognized Valerie
from Jamie's copy of "Lost Knight." But she couldn't place the other
brunette. The Aussie could be only one person.

"Mary GT?"

"Yes." The smaller brunette Natpacker held out her hand to the MMG.
"Let me guess; Christina?"

"Yeah, how'd you know?"

"Hi, I'm Kelly. You're here with Jamie, so you must be one of her Merc
Mommies, but you're not bouncing, so you can't be the Separated at
Birth Natpacker." Kelly grinned wickedly. "I've been looking forward
to meeting you." Fortunately, Dianne didn't hear the earlier comment,
since she was distracted by a hiss from Lane.

"Why are we here *talking* with these people?" Lane asked the GHP
under his breath. Dianne didn't answer, exchanging glares with the ex-
GHP. "Aren't they the ones that keep snatching our members?"

"WE were snatching people?" Mo asked in exasperation. "Oh, you---"

"You know you were---" Dianne started.

"Be nice," Christina snapped at Lane and Dianne.

"Mo, come on, they can be here if they want." Kelly said, and she and
Christina stopped talking to their fellow faction members and started
to giggle.

"Truce, guys? Please? For Shakespeare's sake?" Christina asked. "Just
for tonight?"

Jamie chimed in. "Maureen, you know my Merc Mommies won't try anything
in public. Not where they can get caught."

"Merc Mommies for a Natpacker," Valerie sighed disbelievingly, pulling
Amy away from her unsteady progress toward the bar.

A low growl came from the ex-Merc Natpacker, then she calmed. "Okay.
No fisticuffs. Uh.... where are you all sitting?"

Sara checked her ticket, and said "Center section, Row 11. What about
you?"

"Center, Row 12." Mary GT's eyebrows rose. "Well, isn't this cozy."

"Not!" Dawn mumbled.

The doors opened to the garden theatre, and the motley group of
Listers found their way to their seats, passing by the bar and atrium
as they did so. Chris's eyes narrowed as she settled in. "Dianne, is
that woman over there familiar to you?"

Dianne glanced toward the next section. "Felicia, I think she's an
Immortal Beloved... and I think she has a few more of her group with
her, too."

"Hi Tigon!" Lizbet was waving to a brunette wearing a cast a few rows
back. "I'll talk to you at intermission, okay?"

A short brunette wearing a Stetson that Chris immediately coveted sat
down in front of Jamie, who leaned forward and tapped her on the
shoulder. "Partly?"

"Jamie?" The Perkulator warily smiled, eyeing the rest of Jamie's
friends. "How are you feeling?"

"Super. Although I'm not sure I want to stop being Tracy yet. It was a
lot of fun being her. You're not mad at me, right?"

"No, of course not." Partly introduced the cheerful woman sitting next
to her. "This is Kristina... Kristina, these are the Mercenaries. I
don't know all their names---"

"Hi Kristina, I'm Christina."  Chris grinned. "Nice to finally meet
you---"

The lights flashed, signalling the warning for the start of the play,
and the various faction members quieted down as the lights dimmed and
the music started. The set was an Escher-esque multi-level confection
of Moorish arches and stairways, with a fountain at the center, and
about six or seven different entrances onto and off the theatre-in-
the-round. The costuming of the first characters to enter was
blessedly simple, of a similar 18th Century period as that used in
Kenneth Branagh's movie of the play, though the women were not
confined solely to white and ivory dresses.

That Scott Guy, whose last name Christina could never remember
(Wadsworth? Tennyson? Oh, whatever) was playing Benedek, in tight
leather pants and open cotton poet's shirt. "I love Shakespeare,"
Chris heard Maureen mumble behind her, and the Merc had to agree. No
sunglasses, but otherwise, he was incredibly yummy. The actress
playing Beatrice was a Tessa-type.  Not the same actress as the one on
"Highlander" Sonja realized, because she wasn't French and she was a
little shorter, but just as attractive and smart.

Dianne heard a gasp when Hero walked onstage, and couldn't blame
Felicia for being startled.  If she hadn't known that Janette's would
never do Shakespeare so close to Toronto, she would have mistaken the
small dark-haired woman for her.   Then Don Pedro strode across the
courtyard, proclaiming that he and his company would stay a month, and
both Chris and Lizbet had to be dragged back into their seats.

"It's him! It's him!" Lizbet was burbling, and Christina looked like
she was going to faint. "The Old Guy!"

"So? Get a grip!" Lane snarled, holding one arm of each woman until
they came to their senses and shut up. "This is the last time I go
anywhere with either of you..."



The play progressed, with Signor Benedek proclaiming that "I would
live a bachelor."  When his friend Don Pedro teased him, saying that
he would see Benedek pale with love before he died, Scott sardonically
answered, "With anger, with sickness, or with hunger, my lord, but not
with love."

Beatrice expressed similar sentiments, saying no one should get her a
husband, "until God make man of some metal other than earth." Lane had
to admit that the actress playing Beatrice was extremely cute,
although not his usual type. Still, you could understand what made
Benedek so frustrated with her; she kept sniping at him, even as she
flirted.


Hero & Claudio became engaged at the ball, despite the villainous Don
John's machinations. Benedek and Beatrice insulted each other,
engaging in their "merry war" to the amusement of the other characters
and the audience. Then Don Pedro proposed to Beatrice, saying "Will
you have me, lady?" in a voice that had even Dianne sighing.
Beatrice's gentle, "No, my lord, unless I might have another for
working days. Your Grace is too costly for every day," was greeted by
the mumbled chorus of "you idiot" in the Merc's section.


Don Pedro proposed tricking Beatrice and Benedek into loving one
another (to the delight of his fellows), and the lights went up at the
first intermission.

To be continued


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


The Prodigal Vamp
by Catherine Boone and Perri Smith

August 3, 9 p.m.
Nick's Loft

"So, what do we do now?" Dottie asked, leaning back against the couch.
"We've searched almost the entire city, including almost every single
place Nick has ever hung out, and all we've managed to do is annoy the
Cousins, among others, and raise general chaos throughout the city of
Toronto."

"Hey, annoying the Cousins is a good thing in and of itself," Perri
cracked.

Cath gave her an exasperated look. "We haven't even managed to track
down Natalie, much less the book. This is not a good thing."

Perri shrugged, too tired to really care at this point.

Cath heard the elevator door open behind them and frowned, doing a
quick head count. All Knighties present and accounted for, which meant
it was either an attack or.... Next to her, Perri froze, breathing an
"Ohmigod."

Cath turned around slowly, alerted by the sudden silence.

Nick Knight was standing in the doorway, dressed in jeans and a white
shirt, a bag dangling from his hand and a small, uncertain smile
hovering around his lips and eyes. He looked over the assembled crowd,
staring back at him, and the smile got a little smaller. He cleared
his throat. "Hello, everyone."

Dead silence.

He tried again. "I, uh... heard about what's been going on and thought
I'd, um, see if you needed any help. Since I got you into this."

No response except the CD playing in the background. His smile faded
away almost completely. "Maybe this, ah, wasn't such a good idea."

He started to retreat back into the elevator, but then Perri finally
moved. She got up and walked towards him, hesitantly at first, then
slowly and deliberately. Then, she broke into a dead run, hurling
herself into his arms as only Perri could do. By ones and twos and
tens, the rest of the Knighties joined her in a babble of hugs and
greetings.  Cath was last, far in the back, able only to hug the
Knighties furthest to the outside.  She didn't even notice the fact
while, tears streaming down her face, she hugged those nearest her for
all she was worth.

[The rest of this scene is being cut out of consideration to those
listmembers who may have diabetes or other sugar intolerence
disorders. We now return to your regularly scheduled war, already in
progress. -- The Management]

"Nick, you are such an idiot!  Where was your brain, runnign off like
that?" Amy Denton demanded.

The somewhat incoherent and completely unrestrained display of
affection had tapered off after some time, and the Knighties were
scattered around the loft again, most of them either trying to sit as
close to Nick as possible (to defend him), and a few as far away from
him as possible (to get the best firing range), depending on how
forgiving they were feeling.

Cath and Perri were among the close ones -- the lingering anger at
Nick for his two months of silence lost out to the sheer happiness of
having him back.

Nick leaned back on his couch, giving the door furtive glances. But
enough Knighties were surrounding him that he wouldn't have made it
more than a few steps, and he knew it. Trapped, he started to explain.
They sat in silence through Divia's appearance, most of which they
knew already. A few sniffles sounded when he got to Vachon's death, a
few more when he hit Tracy's a little later. The Knighties next to him
moved a little closer. Perri looked away, smothering a grin. Cath's
glare warned her to tell Nick about Vachon *later*.

Then came the events of that last night (severely edited for his
audience, Cath suspected). He skimmed over what had happened between
him and Natalie.

"I asked LaCroix to.. send me with Natalie. To give at least a chance
to be together. I thought he was going to, but then... he threw down
the stake, and went for Natalie instead, to bring ehr across. I didn't
even have time to think, I just, dove for him, and knocked him away
from her, out the window." Several sets of Knightie eyes followed his
gesture towards the boarded-up window they'd discovered, when the
electricity had finally come on, letting them open the shutters. "We
wound up outside and we... fought. I won, I think. At any rate, he
left."

"When I returned to the loft, Natalie was gone."

"What do you mean, 'gone'?" Judy frowned.

"I mean, she was *gone*!"  Nick looked as unnerved as they felt.
"When I left her, she was right..." he gestured to a patch of floor on
his left. Carrie and Robbi, who were sitting closest to that
particular spot, tried to edge away quickly without looking like they
were.  Nick paused, and abruptly continued, "And when I got back, she
wasn't. I know LaCroix didn't take her, so she must have left here on
her own -- I don't know how, but she must have. All I found were --"
he paused, confusion in his eyes. "--cookie crumbs. Mint cookie
crumbs, everywhere."

Cath and Perri exchanged a look -- another clue added to the theory.
"Then what?" someone prompted.

"I searched until sunrise, but couldn't find her. The only thing I
knew I could do to help her was to get away from Toronto and hope that
LaCroix would be satisfied with that. That he would follow me and stay
away from her, wherever she was." He shook his head, closing his eyes.
"It was all I could do to keep her safe."

There was something resembling a joint 'Awwww' from most of the
Knighties. if anyone held a different opinion, they sat on it.

"Anyway, I've been hiding for a few months now, trying to stay as far
away from Toronto as I could. Then I found out LaCroix was still here,
and realized I'd left my account book and all of you came up here
and... well, I guess I needed an excuse to come back and... tie up the
mess I left." He gestured sort of helplessly and let his voice trail
off.

There was a long moment of silence, then Dottie patted Nick's hand
(she was sitting right next to him, of course). "Whatever you need to
clear up, we'll help."

"Of course," Allie chimed in. "Whatever you need us to do."

"Like always," someone else kicked in.

And maybe only Dottie, Perri and Cath, sitting closest, saw the stark
relief that crossed Nick's face as the Knighties closed ranks around
their prodigal friend.


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


With Open Arms (1/1)
by Knightie Amy Rambow
(with Knighties Dotti R., Nancy T., Robbi E., Karen T. and Sandra G.)
(authorized by our Field Marshals)

Date: Saturday, August 3
Time: 9 p.m.
      concurrent with and immediately following "The Prodigal Vamp"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"But we had to celebrate and be happy, because your brother was dead,
but now he is alive; he was lost, but now he has been found." -- Luke
15:32
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Perri froze, breathing an "Ohmigod."

The chatter which had filled the loft quickly tapered off.  Dotti had
been listening intently to Nancy's comparison of the dream-sequence in
BB with the dream-sequence in DK (she'd been emailing Amy R. again,
who had a new theory to rationalize away both Claire's death and LC's
costume) and didn't notice the volume change until Nancy stopped
midsentence.

Sitting at the piano end of the couch, Dotti craned her neck around to
see what was making Nancy's eyes bug out and Robbi's jaw hang
helplessly open.

Nick was standing by the battered elevator door. Nick. Dotti's mind
turned somersaults over that simple fact for several seconds, before
she even processed how good he looked in those blue jeans.  His smile
was hesitant, as if he wasn't sure how he'd be received.

"Hello, everyone."

Dotti tried to respond, but her mouth didn't seem to be connected to
her brain at the moment.  The utter silence indicated that others were
having the same problem.

"I, uh ... heard about what's been going on and thought I'd, um, see
if you needed any help,"  Nick offered.  "Since I got you into this."

There was no sound except the instrumental CD playing softly in the
background.  Robbi had bitten her fist to keep from crying in grateful
joy, and many others were still staring in simple shock.  His smile
faded away almost completely. "Maybe this, ah, wasn't such a good
idea."

He turned back toward the elevator, apology evident on his face.  But
then Perri finally moved, hurling herself into his arms as only Perri
could do. Her reaction cut through the various emotions holding back
the other Knighties, releasing them like a spring.  Dotti moved with
surprising speed, and caught Nick in a hug that brought into question,
once again, the issue of whether vampires really need to breathe.  The
babble of relieved voices became deafening as the Knighties clustered
around Nick, and Robbi and Cath were far from the only ones crying for
all they were worth.  Tears streamed down Sandra's face too, as she
stood silently, watching the others.

Eventually, Nick was ensconced on the couch between Dotti and Cath,
with Katrinka and Sandra Gray standing directly behind him (although
Sandra wasn't quite sure how she'd come to be there or whether she
should stay there).  Nancy, Karen, and other loyalists found spots on
the floor near his feet.  "Loyalist" had become a distinction worth
noting, because as the initial wave of emotion subsided, a few
Knighties began giving way to the frustrations of the past several
months.

Amy Denton started it.  "Nick, you are such an idiot!  Where was your
brain, running off like that?"

"Hey!" Dotti warned.  A fiery look came into Sandra's eyes as she gave
Amy D. a pointed stare over Nick's head; this was no time for
recriminations, especially vague and unfounded ones.

Nick sighed, and began to explain.  While most of his followers were
obviously ready to forgive him anything, he certainly didn't seem to
feel he deserved that support.  His tone was relatively inexpressive
as he went though events that were almost as painful for his listeners
as they were for him.  Nancy thought he sounded as if he were trying
to stay detached, as if giving in to the memories would destroy
whatever equilibrium he'd regained since that terrible night.

As he finished his tale, the Knighties, as always, closed ranks around
their prodigal friend, welcoming him with open arms.

Some moved off to consider how Nick's presence changed the dynamics of
confronting other affiliations; others pondered how best to pick his
brain for where he might have lost the book; a few went to dry tear
streaks on the fluffy white towels in the bathroom; most made a point
of personally acknowledging him -- shaking his hand, patting his knee,
squeezing his shoulder -- as if to reassure themselves of his reality.

The level of scrutiny was slightly beyond what Nick had come to expect
from even his persistent followers, and Karen caught his bemused
expression.  "Some of us thought you were dead, Nick," she said
gently. He looked startled.  "And the rest of us thought you were
never coming back.  We were thrilled to hear from Cath and Perri, but
from the way everyone's reacting now ...."  Nick reached over to brush
away that annoying strand of hair which always drives Karen crazy by
straying into her face, and she grabbed his hand for a second before
he could lean back. "I guess no one completely believed it until they
saw you with their own eyes."

"That's where some of that criticism came from, Nick," Dotti added.
"It's been awfully emotional since you disappeared.  Don't pay any
attention to it."

"The frustration was just set to explode."  Carrie walked over from
the fireplace.  "It's only natural.  But Dotti's right, Nick.  We're
all on your side.  100%."

"Thank you.  Really."  Nick looked around at the clump of protective
Knighties who seemed so reluctant to leave his side.  "Ummm .... there
have always been a lot of Knighties, but ...."

Dotti laughed.  "We have our share of newbies.  Nicky, you do seem to
reel the people in.  That's Robbi, with the handkerchief, and Nancy
Taylor is next to your right shoe."

Nancy gulped and nodded, as her eyes went wide.  Her heart leapt into
her throat and she looked up at Sandra in desperation.  The friends
she'd made while she'd been in Toronto were one thing; actually
speaking to *Nick* was still beyond her.

Sandra took pity on her.  "Nancy, why don't you use your laptop to
email Amy with the good news?"

Nancy nodded and sprang over to the table.

"Amy?" Nick asked, counting the Amys already in the loft.

"Amy Rambow," Sandra answered. "You've never met her.  Look, Nick,"
she hesitated a moment, reluctant to add to his burdens.  His blue
eyes shifted up to meet her (at the moment) gray-blue ones.  "I think
the other affiliations might be looking for your book.  Since we
haven't been able to find it ...."

"Someone else might have," Nick finished.

Sandra nodded.

Nick settled back into the cushions and closed his eyes for a second. 
The war had been going for almost a week now, and he'd been through
enough of these things to know that with his next question, he was
setting himself up for a very, very long night.  "What's happened so
far?"

The Knighties were only too happy to respond.

---
END


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


My Bodyguard...NOT! (01/01)
by Karen with Dotti, Nancy, Robbi, & Katrinka, Knighties
Time: Saturday Aug 3/directly after "With Open Arms" and before
"Talkin' After Midnight"
Place: Nick's loft

As the other Knighties began to drift away, Karen looked at Dotti and
sighed. "I'm still worried about Nick."

"Yeah, "Dotti replied forcefully. "After waiting all this time for
Nick to return, I don't really want him out of my sight for any longer
than it takes him to go to the fridge and get a bottle." She watched
Nick as he, indeed, walked in the direction of the kitchen.

Robbi, drawn by their serious expressions from across the room, joined
them. "What's up?" she asked as she sat down. Karen and Dotti told her
their concerns. "I agree. The only way I'm going to let him out of my
sight until this all is if I'm dead or unconscious."

"Let's hope it doesn't come to that," Nancy said as she, Carrie and
Katrinka joined the group. "But you're right. I can't see letting Nick
out of  our sight now that we've got him back safe and sound.  Enough
has happened to the poor boy.  He needs us now more than ever, and I,
for one, ain't leaving his side!!"

Karen suddenly laughed out loud. "Body guards! That's it!" More
laughter. "Body guards! In shifts! Never leave him alone for a minute.
What'da you say Dotti...you and I get get him for ANY shift during
which he plans to shower??"

Dotti was at first lost in fantasies of Nick showering, then laughed
too. "That's the ticket. I hold the Loofah, you hold the towel...."

Robbi was the first to take the idea seriously. "How are we going to
do this?  Two at a time in shifts or all of us?"

"I think going in pairs might be best," Nancy said. "More than two at
a time could be more conspicuous than we'd want to be."

"Yes, and we'd by sharper and more observant if we have time off
between shifts," observed Carrie.

Katrinka looked around the group. "It sounds like we've agreed we're
going to do this, and do it in shifts. Who's going to work together?
Robbi and Nancy?" Both women nodded "Karen and Dotti?" More nodding.
That leaves you and me, Carrie."

"For now," Carrie said. "I'd guess that there are others who'd be
willing to take shifts, too. Then we could do shorter shifts."

"How are we going to keep in contact with the rest of the Knighties if
we _do_ run into trouble," Robbi asked practically.

"I have a cellular phone we can use," Karen replied.

"Okay," Nancy said and paused. "Now for the HARD part. How are we
going to convince Nick that this is a good idea?"

"Maybe we should make a pledge of loyalty?" suggested Robbi.

"Maybe we'd be better off without him really realizing he's got
bodyguards the entire time," countered Dotti.

The six women began considering the pros and cons of telling Nick
their plan.

"Wait." Nancy said. "Before we go any further with this, we'd better
run it past the rest of the Knighties. No use spending more time on it
if it's not okay with everyone."

"Yes." "True." "You're right." "I suppose so." "Someone get Perri or
Cath..."

"What's up, guys?" Perri asked as she approached. The group explained
their idea.

Perri thought for a moment of two before answering. "If you all want
to try to bodyguard him, go ahead, but be aware you're not going to be
able to pull  it off all the time. And besides, Nick'll never go for
it."

*****

Nick wandered around the loft, reacquainting himself with the place--
he had to admit to himself--he loved. In spite of the female
impedimenta which seemed to cover every available surface, it still
felt like _his_ after all these months. And, for someone who had tried
for so many years not to become attached to places, that felt good.

He noticed a small group of Knighties in what looked like a very
intense, very serious discussion. His curiosity was piqued; hadn't
Karen and Dotti been sitting in exactly the same spot when he had left
them?

Karen noticed Nick watching them and smiled over at him. "Come on
over, Nick. We have something to discuss with you." He settled into
the spot they had made for him on the couch, and looked around at the
serious faces expectantly.  Realizing that many of her fellow
Knighties were still rather tongue-tied when Nick was around, Karen
went on. "Nick," she said, laying her hand on his arm for emphasis,
"We're worried about what might happen to you in this war. We've just
gotten you back after months of wondering, and we don't want to lose
you again." Her green eyes flashed at the thought, and the faces of
the others reflected her concern.

"What we've been thinking about doing is, um, accompanying you in your
nightly, um, occupations. In pairs. By shifts..." Dotti's voice
trailed off as she saw the expression of amused incredulity in Nick's
eyes.

"Bodyguards! You want to be my _bodyguards_?" Nick glanced at the
faces surrounding him. He was the only one laughing. "Don't you think
that it would make me look a little weak, a little defenseless, to
have you all _protecting_ me?"

"Sure, Nick," Karen said, trying to keep her face serious, but
succumbing to the infectiousness of his amusement. "It's really going
to damage your macho image to be always accompanied by two (if I may
say so) beautiful, amusing, intelligent, _adoring_ women."

"I'll admit that doesn't sound so bad, " Nick allowed, then became
serious again, "But it seems unnecessary. I can take care of myself."

"No one's saying you can't, Nick." Robbi replied. "But a lot of people
in other factions are VERY angry with you." Five heads nodded in
agreement.

Nick looked around again at the six eager faces. He knew they meant
well, and he was moved by their offer, but..."No," he said, quietly,
firmly.

"'No' which part?" asked Dotti, stunned.

"No to all of it. Look, I know your hearts are in the right place, but
this is really unnecessary." He put his arms around Karen and Dotti,
on either side of him, but his eyes and his tone included everyone.
"Of course we'll watch out for each other,  like we always do," he
said gently, "we just don't need shifts and assignments to do it.
Okay?" He looked at each of them and saw tears in more than one pair
of eyes. "Okay?" He saw begrudging agreement.

Nick stood and hugged each of them in turn. Someone called to him from
across the room and he turned to go, but not without telling them one
more time "I really do appreciate what you wanted to do, you know."

"We know," Carrie replied as they watched his departing back.

"We still watch him, right?" Katrinka asked.

"Like a hawk!"

"I heard that!"

"Darned vampire senses."


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


"Much Ado" and Peaceful Revels (2/3)
by Christina Kamnikar and the FK Warriors
Saturday, August 3, 9:15 PM
Stratford Shakespeare Theatre


"So, why is Don John such a jerk?"

"Because he's jealous of his brother, Don Pedro."

"But why does he care if Claudio and Hero get married?"

"He's jealous of Claudio's friendship with Don Pedro, and wants to
make both of them suffer."

"So he's just a jerk."

"Basically, yeah."

"Sort of like Lacroix."

"Hmmm..."

The milling crowd of theatre-goers obtained drinks, compared notes,
and people-watched in the garden outside the main theatre. Lizbet
chatted with Tigon and petted Timon, nestled inside Tigon's sling;
Dianne schmoozed with Felicia the Immortal Beloved and Nancy the Die-
Hard, who'd introduced themselves to her; and Christina and Kristina
and Kelly and Sonja compared Shakespeare to Highlander and Forever
Knight. "Of course, if we could've gotten poetry like this all through
third season, they never would have even *considered* cancelling it."

"Because everyone would have been asleep," Lane grumped. "Aren't there
any swordfights in this play? Action sequences? Anything?"

"Sort of. Later. This isn't a big action play, Lane." Sara shrugged.
"It's a comedy. The tragedies and histories have more swordfights, but
you'd be depressed by now."

Jamie waved to a smartly dressed blue-eyed blonde getting a soft drink
at the bar. "Kat! Over here!" The blonde waved, then made her way over
to Jamie and Dawn with a curly-haired brunette woman in tow. "Dawn,
this is Kat and Sherri, they're Vaqueros, I don't know if you know
them---"

"We never got a chance to meet before," Dawn replied, shaking hands.
"How are you liking this?"

"What's not to like?" Sherri commented. "Poetry, true love, guys in
tights... it's almost as good as THE PRINCESS BRIDE."

"Or Forever Knight flashback sequences," Kat said, grinning.

"Only without Lacroix smirking in the background," Liz the Lucky said,
sipping her drink.

"Hey, who's taking the name of our Beloved Leader in vain?" A tall
woman behind Liz asked, turning around to scrutinize the group. "Oh,
Mercs. I should've known. *You* don't look so murky, though," she
continued, nodding to Felicia.

"Ravenette and Immortal Beloved. Thanks for noticing. And you are--?"

"Gehirn and Leslie---Leslie's talking to that knot of brunettes over
there---Cousins on the loose. Cherri and Heather are around here
somewhere.  You're right though," Gehirn commented to Liz, "He does
smirk. But he has a glorious voice to make up for it."

"True," Sherri said meditatively. "But Scott What's-his-name and the
Don Pedro Person are doing pretty good without him. The guy playing
Claudio is a dead loss, though."

"Claudio's *always* a dead loss," Christina said, detaching herself
from Kristina and Kelly and Leslie, who had been joined by an ecstatic
Maureen. "But no one with any brains actually thinks he's the hero."

"Hero's the dark-haired girl, right?" Jamie asked, looking worried.

"Yes, Jamie," Sara smiled.

"Claudio reminds me of Nick," Mary GT opined, rolling her eyes. "Such
a wimp. And sooooo gullible. If Sharon were here--"

"And you should be glad she isn't," Maureen interrupted as she and
Valerie joined them, with Kelly, Kristina and Leslie drifting over to
talk to Partly K.

"Lately, she's be screaming for his blood," GT explained. "I wonder
what set her off? Anyway-- how Claudio could buy that load of blarney
that Don John was trying to sell..."

"There's worse to come," Abby said darkly, "Although, I'm really
looking forward to the bit where Beatrice and Benedek---"

Maureen and and Sonja and Christina all sighed heavily. "What, what?"
Gehirn asked, her ears pricking up.

"Fun stuff?" Cherry Munoz asked, rattling the ice cubes in her drink
as she came back from the bar.

"Oh, yeah," the trio chorused. The lights in the atrium flickered.

"Time to get back to our seats," Dianne said, grabbing another Harp
before she shepherded her crew back to their section. Maureen grabbed
Kelly and took away her swizzle sticks at the bar, and dragged Amy
back by letting her smuggle in some rum.

Chris hung over the back of her seat to talk to Maureen. "Do you think
Scott looks better with or without the shades?"

"What kind of silly question is that?" Maureen responded with pity.
"He's perfect either way."

Amy looked considering. "Oh, I don't know. The shades add so much
mystery..." she sipped her rum meditatively.

"Are you talking about Benedek?" Kristina piped up from in front of
the Merc's row. "He's pretty gorgeous. But I think I like Don Pedro
better... he's still single at the end of the play, right?"

"Yes, but he's MINE," Lizbet said threateningly, leaning forward to
talk to the Perkulators as Sonja chatted with Abby.

"The Prince - Don Pedro - does have gorgeous cheekbones," Felicia said
dreamily as she walked to her seat.

"Why does Beatrice remind me of Natalie?" Cherri wondered aloud to
Leslie. The Cousins, it had been discovered, were seated closer to the
stage, but farther off right than the Ravens. Heather waved to Chris,
who gave her a pained smile, remembering that she still owed her a
job.

"Because she's got a smart mouth," Dawn said, overhearing this,
"although she has better taste in men, from what I can see."

The lights flashed, then dimmed again.

The tricking sequences commenced, with Claudio, Don Pedro and
Leonato arranging to be overheard by a sunglasses-wearing Benedek on
the upper balcony, all three of them claiming that Beatrice was in
love with him, though she would never admit it, and Benedek didn't
deserve her. Benedek went into delighted shock at the news,
proclaiming, "Love me? Why! It must be requited!" Kelly had to yank
Maureen back into her seat at that point, and Dianne pinched Chris to
make her stop whimpering. Lizbet sighed heavily as Don Pedro crossed
the stage, looking manly and concerned for 'sweet Beatrice', and Lane
kept muttering "never, ever, ever, again."

Hero and her maid then played the same trick on Beatrice, allowing her
to overhear their conversation about Benedek's alleged love for her.
The Tessa look-alike was as overwhelmed as Scott had been,
proclaiming, "Farewell, scorn! Benedek, love on!"

"Lucky wench," Amy whispered.

And then the play turned dark.

Don John and his henchman framed Hero, making it seem that she was
faithless to Claudio; Lane ground his teeth during this scene. Claudio
was too stupid to live; and even Don Pedro didn't come off well in the
window set-up. Benedek was very wisely nowhere in sight, so his
character didn't suffer the same diminishment.

The marriage ceremony began, with the actors entering from the back of
the theatre, as if they were in an actual church. Hero, looking more
like Janette than ever, happily going toward her beloved---only to be
cruelly dumped at the altar, slandered and accused of harlotry, while
Beatrice looked on in helpless sympathy and pain for her cousin.
Claudio ran off in rage and despair, and the Natpackers could be heard
murmurring "Nick lives!" Hero collapsed into devasted sobs and was
lead off by the priest.  Beatrice raged at her helplessness to avenge
her cousin's wrong, and Benedek stepped forward to comfort her.

The tender, painful scene that followed between Benedek and Beatrice
[after the priest and Hero's father decided to let it be known that
Hero had died of a broken heart] had most of the audience in tears. "I
do love nothing in the world so well as you. Is not that strange?"
Scott asked as Benedek, and Beatrice responded, "As strange as the
thing I know not. It were as possible for me to say I love nothing so
well as you..."

"I love you with so much of my heart that none is left to protest,"
Christina mouthed along with Beatrice, clutching her program tightly
between her fingers.

"Bid me do anything for thee!" Benedek demanded; Maureen was crying at
this point.

"Kill Claudio." Lane raised his eyebrows. High maintenance women were
a pain. But he had to admit that Claudio had it coming.

"Not for the wide world."

"You kill me to deny it!"

Tessa/Beatrice broke away from her newfound love, angry again, furious
at the race of men, and stormed, "Oh, that I were a man! I would eat
his heart in the marketplace!" Maureen was now the one whispering the
line along with the actress; Kelly leaned over to her and softly said,
"Now *there's* something interesting to suggest to Sharon."

"Think you in your soul that Count Claudio has wronged Hero?"

"Yea. As sure as I have a thought, or a soul."

"Enough.  I am engaged. I _will_ challenge him." Benedek said this
softly, but the look on Scott's face was deadly. And then, to segue
from that to such tenderness when he looked at Tessa/Beatrice... Amy
hiccuped, and begged a tissue from Mary GT, who didn't have one, so
Maureen had to give her one. Kelly was in a state of dazed shock.

The lights came up, and the audience stayed in their seats a moment,
just trying to recover as the second intermission was called.


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


"Much Ado" & Peaceful Revels (3/3)
by Christina Kamnikar w/the FK Warriors,
with special thanks to Dianne la Mercenaire
 & Kelly the Natpacker
Saturday, August 3, 10:08 PM
Stratford Shakespeare Festival


"Claudio has to die."

"Hero would be sad, though."

"She could marry Don Pedro."

"And Don John *must* suffer."

"He will. But we won't get to see it..."

"Noooo!" Jamie was complaining. "I want to see him pay for being such
a creep! Don't tell me these things!"

"Would you rather I lied to you?" Christina asked reasonably.

"No. But you're good at exaggerating..."

The second intermission was more frenzied than the first; Kelly had
convinced the bartender to let her mix drinks, Amy had appropriated a
barstool and was talking rather heatedly with Felicia; Christina had
been trying to talk either Heather or Sherri into giving her their
hats, without success. Lane was demonstrating some swordfighting
techniques to Abby and Dawn, Maureen and Kristina and Valerie and Liz
the Lucky were comparing notes on past productions, and Dianne and
Partly were comparing notes on Jamie.

"Chris had a tracker on her---"

"Well, I can see why she has *two* Merc Mommies now."

Dianne laughed as Sara joined them. "Jamie can take good care of
herself," the House Mother pointed out.

"When she wants to, Sara. When she wants to. Otherwise, she just goes
off on some bizarre tangent, and Urs has more sense of self-
preservation."

"It *can't* be Janette, but damn, it looks like her," Felicia agreed
with Kristina. She chuckled suddenly. "This is so weird---it's like
the Olympics or something. All of us on our best behavior, not playing
any dirty tricks---"

"Well, most of us," Kelly agreed, watching Leslie and Gehirn stalk
their fellow factioneer Cherri.

"Shakespeare does that for people," Valerie opined.

"And Scott," GT reminded her.

"Well, yeah, him, and the Old Guy too..."


The lights flashed for the end of the last intermission, and the
trumpets blared, calling them back into the theatre.


The comic police, the Watch, apprehended Hero's slanderers, and
brought them to justice; Hero's father and uncle confronted Claudio,
and Scott/Benedek challenged his former friend in harsh terms that had
Lane saying, "yeah!" under his breath.  Then Hero's good name was
cleared, and Claudio broke down in an agony of remorse and regret.

"Knightie," muttered the entire row of Natpackers. Dawn turned around
to shush them, and nearly missed Don Pedro's regretful agreement on a
funeral for the dead girl. Sonja was swaying in her seat, watching the
Old Guy looking deep, intense and full of regret that was untainted by
self-hatred.

The funeral followed the same processional route as the wedding,
eerily enough; dark and lit by candles, with sad music and much
wailing. Don Pedro's presence redeemed Claudio's somewhat overwrought
histrionics. Felicia could be heard grumbling in her seat in the next
section; something about "hit him on the head, see if he buys a clew."

Benedek and Beatrice had a small, sweet, silly scene together, where
Scott had been trying to compose verses to his love, and concluded
that he "was not born under a rhyming planet." Tessa/Beatrice entered
and bantered with him a while, and when he asked her dryly, "Tell me,
for which of my bad parts did you first love me?" she replied, "For
all of them together, which maintained so politic a state of evil,
that they would allow no good part to intermingle."  The audience
laughed with Benedek, who was then asked by Beatrice, "but come, for
which of my good parts did you first suffer love for me?"

"Suffer love? Aye, a good epithet. I do _suffer_ love indeed, for I do
love thee against my will." The rueful, loving look he gave her, so at
odds with his reproachful words, set off another chorus of sighs in
the audience. Abby was beginning to see what Chris saw in this guy;
not the most beautiful guy on the planet, but oh, did he know how to
deliver a line...

As a condition of Claudio's forgiveness, Hero's father required that
the Count marry his niece. Something which has never made sense to any
woman who's seen the play... but makes it possible for Hero to come
back from the dead, forgive Claudio, and have a happy ending. The
Janette-a-like was so happy at her resurrection, that the audience
*almost* forgave that adolescent idiot Claudio for being such a jerk.

And then... Benedek and Beatrice had found out how they were deceived,
and each swore they did not love the other, except 'in friendly
recompense.' No one, seeing Scott's shuttered and controlled face,
believed it for a second--- except the hurt Beatrice, who was too
scared to declare her love. She seemed to think Benedek's devotion was
too much to hope for. Shakespeare's Incredibly Useful Plot Device, the
overlooked letter, was thus used to bring the warring lovers back
together again,  both joking, until Benedek became mock-outraged, and
said "Peace, I will stop your mouth!" and kissed her.

"Wow," Mo breathed, fanning herself with her program. Amy muttered
something unintelligible.

Don John got dragged on in chains, then dragged off again to horrid
unnamed punishments, and they all lived happily ever after. And yes,
Don Pedro was still single at the end.


There were three curtain calls, and Chris's hands hurt from the
clapping, her throat sore from yelling "Bravo! Brava! Yayyy!" The
Natpackers behind her were making twice as much noise, and she could
see Felicia wiping away tears, as Partly and Kristina stomped their
feet on the ground as well as clapping their hands.

"Okay, it wasn't bad," Lane allowed. "But it *still* could have used a
swordfight."

The Listers slowly made their way out of the theatre, and Lizbet and
Christina exchanged looks as they neared the exit to the parking lot.
Lizbet was walking and talking with Tigon, whose head bent to hear
what the shorter woman was whispering. She suddenly laughed, her light
brown hair falling back, and she nodded in amusement as Lizbet shot
Chris a high-sign.

Chris caught up to black-clad Cherri and smiled at her and Heather.
"Do you guys need a lift back?"

"How did you know?" Heather asked, puzzled.

"Oh, we always have transportation---and while the Natpackers have the
Autumn Wine(tm) Cavalier this time, no one else ever does in these
Wars. It's not convenient to have ready transport. We could drop you
off..."

Cherri's eyes narrowed. "You're up to something."

"Of course I am," Christina's smile was irresistably charming. "I'm a
Merc, I admit it. But it'll be *fun*."

"More fun than jail?" Heather asked sarcastically. They were getting
closer to the Merc's Gray Inconspicuous Van; Chris saw the Natpackers
heading for their car and chauffeur, and waved good-bye to Kelly.
Hopefully they'd meet up again soon.

"Yes, Heather. MUCH more fun than jail." Chris smiled at Lizbet, who
opened the door to the van, and Christina pushed both Cousins in, then
hopped in behind them.   "Heather, if you don't *want* to go to a
party, just say so... but Cherri, you're being kidnapped."

"Guess this means the Olympics are over," Felicia laughed as she
walked by with her group.

Dianne grinned and got into the van as Jamie yawned sleepily. "Yup.
Back to business as usual.. can't be civilized ALL the time.
Otherwise, it wouldn't be a War." She glanced back at Cherri, and
said, "Remember what Susan says about attacks," as she gunned the
motor and peeled out of the parking lot.

Christina       Merc Mommy General      vqrw76a@prodigy.com
It's been real. It's been fun. It's been real fun.

My thanks to all the people who allowed me to write them into this
non-combat post, and to Will Shakespeare, Kenneth Branagh, and Those
Whose Names I'll Never Remember. - CLK


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


There Can Be Only One... and it's Methos!!!!
By Elizabeth Ann Lewis (with an ending by Tigon Diana Hooker)
Saturday August 3-Sunday August 4
>From half eleven at night to the wee, wee hours of the morning
The Fang Gang Mansion, Toronto

Tigon muttered as she wandered around the house.  The guests would
begin to arrive at any moment, but of course Lizbet was nowhere to be
found.  Many of them were her friends from the Highlander War, but did
she stay around to greet them?  No!  She saw Chris and Cherri off
after the play and then she snuck back into the theater, leaving Tigon
to deal with the pre-party setup.

Laura came down the stairs into the hallway.  "Need any help?"  Lizbet
had explained to Laura that there couldn't possibly be a Methos Flag
Wavers (hereafter MFWs) party without her, so Lizbet had kidnapped her
and brought her to Toronto.  Laura agreed to pay Lizbet for her own
kidnapping, and had spent the day resting in the Fang Gang house in
preparation for the party.

"Yes!" Tigon said in utter relief.  The prospect of being surrounded
by a bunch of Highlander fans was slightly daunting.  She watched the
show occasionally, mostly because Lizbet kept raving about it.  She
even liked Methos--anyone who pretended to be his own Watcher was
pretty cool.  But the passion with which these women watched the show
was entirely beyond her comprehension.

A van pulled up in the driveway, and Christina stepped out, followed
by Cousin Cherri.  Cherri was shaking her head.  "I don't understand."

"It's easy, Cherri!"  Lizbet bounced up to the front door and hugged
Cherri.  "I wanted you to come to the party.  I even issued a private
invitation.  What could I do when you wouldn't come but kidnap you?"

They settled into the spacious living room with its widescreen TV.  "I
wonder if Dr. Magee left any of his personality-control stuff here?"
Chris wondered.

"We don't need any more personalities running around here," Tigon
said. Lisa/Suk/Angelique was bad enough.  And Lizbet had a gleam in
her eye that Tigon had only seen once.

Dawn came, restored to her natural color.  Maryann arrived and was
greeted with shouts of "Candygram!"  Tammy and Charlyne arrived
together.  "Hey, you two, where's the beer scow?" Lizbet asked.

Everyone was puzzled until the three of them described a hijacked beer
scow on the late, great Highlander Cruise.  "Ooo, that sounds like
fun," Chris sighed.  "I wish I could have gone..."

Crystal came in and immediately declared, "Methos is nice, but Duncan
is my hunk-a-burnin' love."  All the pillows from the couch were
launched at her head.

Lizbet passed among the party-goers, thrilled by the crowd.  She
stopped to whisper in everyone's ear, "DON'T mention the butt scene in
Chivalry."

Cherri asked her, "Why not?  It is such a *nice* butt!"

"Only three times, Cherri," Lizbet said automatically, remembering a
certain shot of Vachon.  Then she explained.  "Tigon is a bit, um..."

"Prudish?" asked the extremely un-prudish Cousin.

"Modest," Lizbet temporized.  "I wouldn't want to scare her off."

Cherri looked at the little Merc for several long moments, then
grinned. "You mean, you want the butt shot to be a complete surprise."

Lizbet laughed, a charming little giggle.  "That, too."

First, however, they had to work their way through all the Methos
episodes, starting, predictably enough, with "Methos."  They made it
to Finale' part 1 without any serious fights broke out.  But when
Chris began declaring, "Methos is mine!  MINEMINEMINE!" half a dozen
women began declaring their propriety possession on the oldest
Immortal in loud voices.  (The fact that they had taken Methos' line
from the first episode, "Have a beer," literally, might have had
something to do with it.)  Crystal sat with a smug grin, secretly
gloating over Duncan.  Tigon curled into a fetal ball and pretended
she was at Disneyland.  Lizbet merely sat with an evil sparkle in her
eye, and didn't both trying to claim the ROG.  (Really Old Guy.)

Steve and Becky wandered around in the background.  At Lizbet's
request, they did their best to keep various and sundry animals out of
the party room, but every now and then an inquisitive nose would pop
in to see what all the shouting was about.

They made it Duncan and Amanda dancing on the Effiel Tower, when the
sound of hoofbeats echoed outside on the sidewalk.  Laura, Charlyne,
Tammy and Lizbet ran outside with delighted cries of, "It's the
Colonel General!!!" After a few minutes of exciting babbling (where
Crystal got control of the remote and back the tape up to the scene
with Duncan in a tux) a man's voice shouted, "Thanks for the lift!"
and a woman cried, "Hi-ho, Guiness, away!"

The man walked into the house with four MFWs hanging on his arms.  It
was a rather extrodinary sight, since he easily topped 6 feet and the
MFWs around him were more than a foot shorter.  The jaws of just about
everyone in the room dropped.

"It's... it's Methos!" Cherri gasped.

"Can't be.  Crossovers aren't allowed.  It's Peter Wingfield," Dawn
said.

"It's neither," Chris said.  "It's the actor who played Don Pedro!"

The man who looked remarkably like Methos/Peter Wingfield smiled
charmingly.  "David Chesterton.  This young woman," he said, hugging
Lizbet around the shoulders, "invited me to your party."

"Oooo," Tammy moaned, "he even sounds like him.
Skkkkkiiiiiiiiiiiiiinn!"

The women settled down to watch the tapes.  As Finale' 2 ended and
Chivalry began, Lizbet's grin grew.  Tigon sat forward eagerly to
watch the sword fight between Duncan and Methos, but she got nervous
when in the middle of the fight a flashback happens.  ("Good thing
that Duncan doesn't stop and get all distant and out-of-it during a
flashback or he'd lose his most important part," Laura commented.
"Who said it was his most important part?" Cherri demanded.)

Tigon got *very* nervous when Duncan was sitting in a 17th century
bathtub in front of a beautiful woman who was daring him to get out of
it.  "Uh, guys?  He isn't really going to stand up, is he?"

"Of course not, Tigon," Lizbet lied with perfect innocence.  "This is
American television."

Chris was about to say, "Well, actually, it's Canadian," when Duncan
finally lost patience and stood up.  The Butt was revealed in all its
round, hard-muscled, smooth-skinned glory.  The women around the TV
set cheered.  The Methos lookalive laughed uproariously.

Tigon made an odd little "erk" sound and slapped her arm over her
eyes. Unfortunately, she used her left arm, the one with the cast.
She beaned herself nicely and fell over backwards.  Everyone dove to
help except Lizbet, who was rolling around on the ground laughing, and
Cherri, who got control of the remote in the confusion and was avidly
rewinding and pausing.  "Turn around, Duncan, turn around," she
muttered.

Chivalry was the high-point of the evening.  Timeless found the women
divided equally into the pro-Alexa and anti-Alexa camp, and argued
viciously over whether or not she deserved their beloved Methos.
After regaining conciousness, Tigon slipped into the kitchen to get a
soda.  Off in the entrance hall, she saw Lizbet and Methos... uh, Don
Pedro... uh, David.

"Thank you for coming," she purred, winding her arms around his neck. 
He didn't look like he minded much.  "You were a big hit.  I know *I*
loved having you here."

Tigon shook her head, then knocked it against a cabinet.  She knew
Lizbet. Lizbet didn't throw herself at men like that.  She *certainly*
didn't play tonsil-hockey with strange men like *that.*  But Tigon did
know someone who did...

"Lizbet!" Tigon said loudly.  Lizbet didn't move.  "Lizbet?"  Nothing.

Tigon swallowed.  "Um, Rosemund?" she said in a far more subdued tone.

The petite, long-haired girl immediately looked up, around, and
grinned. Tigon groaned.  Great.  All she needed was to have Rosemund
the Ren Faire Wench, Rosemund of the Over-Active Hormones on her
hands.

David left, and Lizbet/Rosemund returned to the party.  Tigon followed
with some trepidation.  After the airing of Judgement Day, and the
wails of those who couldn't bear the wait for the cliffhanger to be
resolved, people started gathering things up.  "Wait!" Lizbet said.
She turned to Cherri and smiled.  "In addition to this being a
Highlander party, Tigon and I wanted to throw a coming-out party for
you."

Cherri laughed.  "OK, I admit it--I am a raging heterosexual!"

Lizbet lead the way into a smaller side room, where an enourmous
pinata of a cow hung from the ceiling.  Her legs were splayed
ridiculously, and a huge bovine grin covered her face.

Tigon handed her the Shillelagh.  "Here.  It's all yours."

With a millitant gleam in her eye, Cherri began pounding away at the
cow. Because it was hung fairly high she had to stand directly under
the thing to reach it and pound and poke it with the long stick.  The
party members cheered.  With a tremendous CRAAAAAAAACK! the cow split
open.

And Cherri disappeared as every missing sock in Toronto rained out of
the cow and buried her in a pile of fabric.  The party members fell
over laughing as the pile of socks shuddered, rolled, and shifted as
Cherri tried to fight her way out.

"Don't worry, Cherri!" Lizbet called reassuringly.  "I washed all the
smelly ones."

Not being a dummy, Cherri knew immediately that Lizbet was merely the
agent, not the instigator.  "Tigon!" she howled in rage (much muffled
by socks).  "You are going to be sorry!"

Tigon grinned impishly, carefully removing the fallen Shillelagh out
of Cherri's reach, and said, "I *told* you I'd get you back for
stealing my sock pile at your Last Knight party." She shifted the
shillelagh to her casted hand and removed Timon from her Nick-shirt
pocket with her rat. "Say hello to Cherri, Tim," she told the vampire
rat as Cherri's head emerged.

Timon flew down and honked the outraged Cousin's nose before shooting
back into Tigon's pocket. "Tag!" said Tigon with a mischievious laugh,
"You're it!"

With that, she bounced up the stairs in full retreat, barring the door
and setting the entire pack of 22 dogs on guard.


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


Because He Can
By Crystal Guffey and Charlyne Walker, Vaqueros
Highlander Party at the Fang Gang Mansion
Saturday Evening August 3/Sunday Morning August 4 11:30pm - 2:00am
Concurrent with "There Can Be Only one...and It's Methos!!!!"

Crystal entered the Fang Gang mansion. Crystal's birthday was in full
swing the day the invitation arrived and she thought it might be fun
to come and dream about Adrian Paul...Duncan MacLeod, the Highlander,
as a belated birthday party to herself. She hoped that Vachon wouldn't
take it as a defection. He was still tops in her heart. Then she
spotted Charlyne, a fellow Vaquero, and sauntered over.

"I sure am glad that I ran into you, Charlyne," said Crystal uneasily.
"I don't feel comfortable being around all of these Mercs. Even if we
do all seem to like Highlander"

"Now Crystal," said Charlyne assuredly "I'm sure we'll be fine...after
all we are only here to watch Highlander videos and chill out."

Charlyne and Crystal looked at all of the strangers that surrounded
them. They mostly knew Vaqueros and Natpackers, but not so many of the
Mercs.

They headed over to the snacks and got drinks. They each looked over
their fellow revelers, when they turned to face the crowd. When in
unexplored lands, it was best to watch your back.

Charlyne pushed her long, blond hair out of her face and adjusted her
glasses to get a better view of the crowd. "Let's head on over and
find some cushions where we can watch the videos," suggested Charlyne.
"I see some over here that looks pretty good!"

Crystal thought, //Oh I wish I were taller!!! I can't see a thing in
here! I'm really glad that Charlyne is here. I bet she can see
everything!//

Charlyne led the way to a spot across the room that also had a
wonderful vantage point of the tv and the doorway.

Those around the two Vaqueros were screaming about Methos. Crystal put
in her two cents about her love for Duncan, but did so quietly. She
didn't want to get clobbered by the mob.

Suddenly, Crystal and Charlyne felt a simultaneous tap on their
shoulders. They turned quickly to find that Vachon stood behind them.

"Vachon," said Charlyne with confusion. "How did you do that, and what
are you doing here?"

Vachon shrugged his shoulders, blinked his eyes at the two Vaqueros,
and started to speak. As he started to say the first words, the two
chimed in and they all said in unison..."Because I can!" They then
proceeded to laugh together.

When the laughter died down, Charlyne said, "Ok, that answered the
first part of my question, now how about the second?"

"Hmmm, why am I here????," said Vachon thoughtfully. "I just wanted to
get away from the church for a little while. I heard that there was a
little get together here. I used to watch Highlander at Nick's quite a
bit, so I thought I'd come and watch. You know, it's been a while
since I've seen it! But, I can't decide who I want to be the only
one...Methos or Duncan!" Vachon said with a grin.

At the mention of the name Methos, all the other party-goers turned
around, surprised that Vachon was in their midst.

"Alright!" said Lizbet. "Vachon likes Methos!"

"But he also likes Duncan!" clarified a single voice. Crystal searched
out the speaker and it was Cousin April!

Vachon squeezed between his two Vaquero's and everyone started
watching the videos and munching on snacks. Soon everyone was so
engrossed in the story, they forgot that Vachon was there.

Vachon was quite amused by the conversations that went on around him.
He thought it was especially amusing to hear the lusty comments made
by all of those around him. This assortment of healthy females was
certainly a force to be reckoned with.

As Vachon sat watched the show, he realized that he was becoming more
and more aware of the scents of the women around him. It was at this
time that he decided that he needed some air!

Vachon slowly eased himself away from the two Vaqueros who were still
engrossed in Highlander. He didn't want to cause any alarm.

Vachon started to look around the room. That's when he saw it...
Cousin April's backpack. He quietly made his way to where April had
abandoned it and started to rummage through it.

Vachon found photo albums full of pictures of most of the vampires and
some mortals of Toronto. Some were even of him! There was one
particularly tattered-edged photo of Vachon that looked like someone
had been fighting with April for it. He looked on through the albums
and found a picture of Duncan MacLeod! He wondered when and how she
had taken these pictures.

Clearly intrigued, he continued to rummage, he suddenly found
something that he couldn't believe. It was a sword, just like Duncan
MacLeod's! After he removed the sword, he picked up the backpack and
turned it over and over, studying it! //How did that sword get into
this small backpack???? Maybe April knows the where Immortals hide
*their* swords too!!!// Vachon thought with a grin.

Vachon had just laid his hands on a brown leather clad book inside the
backpack, when April screamed, "Vachon! Get out of my backpack.
Clearly inspired by the episode of Highlander she continued with a
grin, "You know, now that you have desecrated my holy backpack, you
must die!" With that, April leaped toward Vachon. Who with vampire
speed, pitched her backpack to her and ran out the door. As he passed
Crystal and Charlyne he yelled, "See you at the church!"

April turned toward Crystal and Charlyne with her hands on her hips
and said, "Now, why did he do that???"

Crystal and Charlyne looked at each other and started to laugh. Then
they looked back at April and answered, "Because he can!"


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


Talkin' After Midnight
by Perri Smith and Cath Boone

Aug 4, 12:46 a.m.
Nick's Loft

Takes place after The Prodigal Vamp

The Knighties had finally calmed down and gone to sleep, passing out
so quickly that Nick was glad he'd come -- they were obviously worn
out. A couple of them had tried to stay awake -- on guard duty, they
said -- but he'd persuaded them that he could keep an eyes on things.
Still, he thought he felt eyes on his back, but only Cath and Perri
were openly awake.

He eyed them nervously as they sat close to the CD player, which was
turned down so low only they -- and he, of course -- could hear it.
They were talking softly, which made him even more nervous.

He finally gave up and walked across the room, avoiding Knighties, and
dropped to the floor beside them. "All right, get it over with now."

They looked at each other, then at him. "Get what over with?" Perri
asked, blinking; she bore a startling resemblence to Vachon.

Nick sighed and nailed them with a Look. "It's past midnight, everyone
else is asleep, you two are awake and it's the middle of a war. You're
going to yell at me and I want to get it over with."

They exchanged looks again; Nick felt his stomach sink. "We're not
going to yell at you, Nick," Cath said calmly. "Why would we? After
all, you're alive, you're here and everything's cool, right?"

Nick shifted uneasily. "Right."

Cath and Perri smiled innocently at him, apparently content to simply
sit and listen to the music. He tried to relax and enjoy it as well --
it was actually pretty good, piano and vocal -- but all the reasons
why they *should* be yelling at him kept creeping through his brain,
until he couldn't stand it anymore.

"All right, I *should* have let all of you know when I left Toronto,
especially after the newspapers and the rumor mill started going
crazy."

"Yeah," Perri agreed, nodding slowly. "That would have been nice."

"And I shouldn't have left Natalie alone that night."

"Well, you were trying to get LaCroix away from her, so he couldn't
bring her across," Cath objected, still softly. "That wasn't exactly a
bad thing."

"Hell, I shouldn't even have let her talk me into that whole...." He
broke off abruptly, remembering his audience. Both women smothered
smiles.

"We know what happened, Nick," Perri told him. "Word gets around, you
know. And it wasn't all your fault -- well, you were being majorly
depresso, and it did stink that you were ready to take off without
Natalie --  but I think there's more than enough blame to go around
for that one."

"But I left her -- and then I dragged all of you up here to do my
dirty work!" he protested.

Cath sighed and turned the music down still further, settling in.
"Actually, you only dragged the two of us up here -- everyone else is
our fault. And we're all volunteers, as usual. So you don't get to
take the blame for that."

"Also as usual," Perri finished Cath's sentence. "And if Natalie left
the way we think she did, she was in very good hands. You tried to
keep her safe from LaCroix -- it was the best you could do at the
time."

Nick was still focused on the first part. "What do you mean, very good
hands? Do you know where Natalie is?"

This time, they very carefully didn't look at each other -- or him,
for that matter. "We have a theory," Cath said carefully.

"A theory?"

"Uh-huh," Perri nodded, playing with the controls on the Diskman. "We
think... um, we think she's with the NatPack. And probably has been
since that night."

Nick stared at them in open mouthed shock. "The NatPack? But they..."

"Are in hiding, as near as we can tell," Cath said. "A couple of them
showed up at the exhibition, we got bombed by the NatMares Tuesday
morning and there was talk of a messy incident at Merc Headquarters --
and that's it. Only the Mercs know where they are, and they're not
telling, and Jennie refuses to get in touch with us."

"Generally, they're right in the middle of the action in a war -- like
last time," Perri continued. "It doesn't make sense for them to be
this quiet unless they're up to something, and I guess they don't want
us to find out what it is. Actually, I don't think they want *you* to
find out what it is, which implies that it has something to do with
Natalie."

Taking one look at the anxious look on Nick's face, Cath inserted,
"And before you say it: yes, we're already working on trying to find
out what's going on and specifically, where Natalie is now."

"So don't go tearing up half of Toronto looking for her," Perri
finished, catching Cath's worried thought.  "Even if you did manage to
find her, you'd undoubtedly run into Natpackers as well, and I don't
think you should tangle with them right now.  They're... upset."

"Upset."

"Yeah."  Neither one would look at him.

"More than you?"

"Nick..."  Cath began, looking two shades of miserable.  She stopped
uncertainly, but Perri saved her.

"We were worried about you," she whispered.  She then smiled weakly at
the fire, still not looking at him.  "Believe it or not, we really
weren't going to yell at you for this. For any of it."

Nick leaned back against the side of the couch, letting his eyes
close. "Well, I suppose you didn't have to, did you?  You let me do it
to myself." He snorted softly. "Very clever."

That made Cath perk up slightly, with a smile. "Well, you needed to
get it off your chest. And besides, you're better at it than we are.
Lots more experience, dontcha know."

He rolled his eyes, fighting not to smile.

"And contrary to popular belief," Perri firmly informed him, "We don't
*enjoy* yelling at you. You just drive us crazy and force us to.
It..."

"I know," he finished for her, with a poke in her side. "It hurts you
more than it hurts me, right?"

Perri laughed. "No, actually, it generally hurts you lots more than
us. That's kinda the point."

"Ouch," he winced, grinning. "I keep forgetting how vicious you two
are."

They looked offended. "Vicious?" Cath asked with a wounded look.

"Us?" Perri chimed in. "Never."

Cath re-considered. "Well... almost never. Rarely."

"Very rarely."

"Practically never."

"Almost..."

"All right!" Nick cut the litany off, chuckling. "I get the point."

They grinned smugly. "Of course, if you really want to see us
vicious," Perri said, the first hint of anger creeping into her voice,
"You can take off without no warning and without telling us where
you're going again. Then, we'll be forced to become truly violent.
After we hunt you down."

He held up his hands in surrender. "I promise, I will never run out on
you all again."

Cath looked at him sideways, mischieviously. "Cross your heart?"

He glared at her half-heartedly. "No."

"Awww..." They both pouted momentarily, then started laughing again,
as quietly as they could. He watched them roll on the floor, letting a
smile tug at his lips.  It really was good to be home.


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


AAAaaauuuugggghhhh!!!!!
by: Cousin Candice
date: Sunday 8/4
time: very early morning 1-2 am
place: The Twilight Zone of War Seven

Candice sat staring at her screen.

Nay, she was gaping.

How COULD she DO that???

Friggin Merc, she would PAY for misspelling the Immortal One's name.

"It's MacLeod, you idot," she said to her screen "M-A-C-L-E-O-D,
Macleod.  OooohI just HATE it when people do that!!!"

(Watch out Grand High Poobah, I'm coming for your head <g>)


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


I'm Only Thinking of Him...
   by Dianne la Mercenaire <Cat.Goddess@pobox.com>
      (under contract to Lisa McDavid <mcdavid-lisa@scarolina.edu>)

[Timing:  Sunday 8/4, very early morning... say 1am to 2am ish...
however it best works...]

[Place: In and around Toronto Trek ... geography and
architectural details by Made-M-Up Enterprises, a Division
of Poetic License, Ltd.... coincidental timing by the
well-known team of Blind Luck and Happy Fate <g>]

[This also fulfills and releases Lisa McDavid's 'dibs' on Nick]



He'd decided to take a little flight.

It wasn't that he didn't meet the Knighties' welcome... 'with
affection'-- only that the affection, with them, tended to get a bit
out-of-hand.

When he'd heard the first mention of the dreaded phrase "Dogpile on
Nick!" he'd quickly excused himself, shaken off his well-meaning but
overwhelming self-appointed 'bodyguards', and fled out into the night
alone.

The moonlight lit his way as he drifted aimlessly over the city. He'd
missed it, really... the thought surprised him...

<"Now you _die_!">

Seconds after the phrase had reached his ears, he had pinpointed the
source. Two cloaked figures stood on the roof deck of a large hotel--
bared swords (of all things) in their grasp.

Landing carefully out-of-sight of the small crowd surrounding the
combatants, Nick stepped forward dramatically into the glow of the
outdoor spots.

"Metro Police! Lay down your weapons and put your hands in the air.
*Now*!"

After the first startled shrieks, not a sound came from the group of
ten or twelve people on the roof. Wide-eyed and frightened, they
complied.

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

Dianne la Mercenaire had just been leaving. It was late and her
attempt to find Cath Boone by stopping by the TTrek Highlander mini-
con had failed. But, just as she was sliding towards the door
(generally sneaky habits were a professional hazard in her line of
work), Nick Knight-- of all people-- made his dramatic, heroic, yet
classically misguided appearance.

As she watched the shaken LARPers try to explain the situation to the
good detective, Dianne slipped through the door, down the stairwell to
the top floor of the building, and into a handy corner.

Digging through her pack, she found what she was looking for, the
brick given to her by Lisa last Wednesday at Eaton Center, and the
instructions that went with it. Too focused on the job at hand to
think of the payment received in advance [hah! :-p], Dianne squinted
once more at the wobbly scrawl.

She'd spent several hours back at Merc Central in the past week
examining the paper-- checking it in different lights, under various
magnifications, through an elaborate barrage of filters. The
conclusion so painstakingly reached was inescapable:

The writer had been someone with hideous penmanship who was also, at
the time of it's composition, completely drunk out of her mind.

As she already _knew_ who had written it, that effort got her
precisely nowhere.

Cousin Lisa the Perpetually Plastered had made it a condition of the
job that she not be contacted at all after the initial hand-off.

What to do?

Dianne, in the best tradition, took an educated guess-- based on both
the very little she could make out of the note and, more importantly,
on her common-sense, gut-level understanding of what anyone would hire
her to do with these materials and this target. Using a convenient
overhead air-duct, she positioned herself accordingly.

And when Nick came through the door, she dropped the brick squarely on
his head.

He fell to the ground with a quite satisfying *thud*.

Immediately, she removed the evidence and vacated the scene.

**********

Moments later when he came to, his head was hurting something awful.
Stumbling to his feet, he tried to remember where he was. Groping
forward, he moved up a staircase that seemed familiar-- like a place
he'd been before.

As he moved, the throbbing in his head receeded and he tried to
remember exactly who he was. He was really, really _old_... _that_ he
remembered. If he tried, he could remember bits of many centuries
lived through. He never died... he was immortal....

Duncan. He remembered voices saying the name to him. Duncan MacCloud.
Immortal. Something about a game....

At the top of the steps, beyond the door were a group of hushed,
hooded figures surrounding a pair facing off with drawn swords.

"Once I have killed you, Methos," the one of the slowly circling pair
declaimed, "I will go after MacCloud."

>From the tone in his voice, he meant it too.