********************************************************************* 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 . "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 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 ) ********************************************************************* I'm Only Thinking of Him... by Dianne la Mercenaire (under contract to Lisa McDavid ) [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 ] [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. Swallowing hard, 'Duncan' grabbed a sword from the pile of bags and assorted paraphenalia behind the crowd and disappeared into the night. *********** He found his way back to the loft without thinking-- operating on pure instinct. Stumbling into the elevator he tried to gather his thoughts. Obviously the Gathering had begun. His ringing head might well be the result of a botched attempt to forcibly and permanently *remove* it. From now on, he must be on his guard at every moment. Sliding open the door, he took a single stride, and stopped cold. The place was full-- full of what could only be evil Immortals after his head.... ********************************************************************* Fly on a Wall (02/10) By: Berg Oswell, Mercenary (acting independently) Time: Sunday, August 4th, Approximately 3am Place: 1,500' altitude, approaching Perkulator HQ Looking down on the lights of Toronto, I found myself wondering if Nick, LaCroix, or Janette appreciated this kind of view, then shrugged it off,nearly sending myself into a flat spin. Now, a powered hang-glider is not the cheapest way to fly, but it does come close to 4th class economy in the amenities department. Especially the sanitary facilties. For the umpteenth time, I found myself wishing I had installed a leg pouch, but ah well, maybe next time. 1,000' from the roof edge, I killed the motor, gliding in the rest of the way, for a neat landing atop the roof, and looked around. Pretty quiet, which is normal for rooftops at 3am. After removing the glider, I set about my work. Attaching a set of ropes to the edge of the roof, and donning my suction-cup gloves, I went over the edge, and started attaching vibration-sensitive microphones to the windows, at the upper edges where they would be difficult to spot. The work went quickly and almost without incident, except for that nasty patch of slippery soap on one window, causing my glove to slip, and treating me to a nice spinning view of downtown Toronto. Recovering, I finished up, and returned to the roof. Remembering something at the last minute, I climbed back down, and painted a note on their window, knowing how perky people love sunshine. Anybody looking out the window the next morning would see "Hi. Your security sucks. However, I am available as a consultant for a nominal fee. Contact me if interested. berg@eskimo.com" After finishing the painting, I returned to the roof for the second time, and after stowing my gear, and re-donning my hang-glider harness, I launched off the edge of the roof, heading to my next appointment of the evening. ********************************************************************* Fly on a Wall (03/10) By: Berg Oswell, Mercenary (acting independently) Time: Sunday, August 4th, Approximately 4am Place: 20' above the roof of Vachon's Church My final stop of the night, and I just *had* to catch a #@#$^ updraft. Oh well, it only delayed me by a minute or two. If I'd had the motor on, it wouldn't have mattered, but since total silence was the only way to evade both the geese and the Vaqueros (with a white noise generator in case Vachon was home), it couldn't be helped. CAREFULLY setting my glider down on the roof, I slipped silently across it to get to work. Silently drilling holes in a roof is harder than it sounds, but then, I've done this before at the Raven. Once the roof panel was removed, and I had access to the interior of the church, I carefully let myself down on a rope, and attached a few bugs to the ceiling (carefully camouflaged). They'd probably be able to find these with a bug-detector, but they'd need Vachon's help to get close enough for it to be detected. And if they didn't know it was there, how would they even know to ask him? After all, anyone who is so hard up as to have to rely on *geese* as an alarm probably can't afford a good bug detector. Before leaving, I carefully lowered a small package to the floor in front of the altar, then returned to the roof, sealing the panel back in place as I went (it wouldn't do for them to suffer a leaky roof due to me, after all). Since stealth wasn't an issue any more, and speed was, I switched on my motor as I left the roof. The first thing they'd see *if* the quiet humming noise woke them up was a bright orange box by the altar (not just bright, it's the same color as a NatMare). Assuming they opened it, and didn't just ditch it or call the bomb squad, they would find it to contain 5 packets of peanut butter M&Ms, and a note reading "I got through without difficulty. Perhaps you should hire a security consultant? I'm available. berg@eskimo.com" A little advertising never hurt anybody. ********************************************************************* QUICK, GET THE FLY SWATTER (01/01) (immediately following "Fly On A Wall (03/10)) by Bonnie Pardoe (Vaquero) Sunday, August 4th, approx. 4 am Nave of Vachon's Church ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Apache was lying with her eyes open. She could see nothing in the darkness, but having lived in darkness for practically two straight weeks because of those stupid cluster headaches, her sense of hearing had been heightened. "Psst. Charlyne? Did you hear that?" "Hmmm?" Still mostly asleep, Charlyne mumbled her response. "Wha...?" "Charlyne!" Apache reached over and prodded her cohort. "I heard something." "But the geese are quiet." "I know, but I think someone was up on the roof. I thought I heard... I don't know... like a small motor." Charlyne sighed. \\Obviously, I'm not going to get any sleep.\\ She got up and lit a full candelabra. "Come on then, let's go check the security cameras." But as she turned back to Apache, she saw the glow-in-the-dark orange box sitting in front of the alter. She pointed it out to Apache. "Bomb?" The two said in unison. "Naw. It's a war, it can't be anything deadly." The two crept over to the ger-ishly colored package. Apache was fed up with all these break-ins and decided to play hero. She opened the box. Inside were five packages of peanut butter M&Ms. \\Yuck,\\ Charlyne thought to herself. And a note which read: "I got through without difficulty. Perhaps you should hire a security consultant? I'm available. berg@eskimo.com" The two Vaqueros looked at each other again. Without a spoken word, they both dashed for the security system. Charlyne checked the pictures from the security cameras. "Well, well. Will you look at this." They had lovely snap-shots of someone dressed all in black landing on the roof in a hang-glider. The next picture was of him breaking into a panel on the roof. "That's how he did it! Very clever!" "I'll bet he left more behind than just those M&Ms. I'll go check." Apache went to get Vachon and some of the other Vaqueros to help her check the roof and ceiling for bugs and such. Charlyne busied herself by composing a nice little note to the Merc's Grand High Poohbah: To: cat.goddess@pobox.com From: Vaqueros@freenet.com Subject: Renegade Mercs ____________________________ Dear Ms. de Sha, We have this very morning been attacked by one of your members: . He bugged our facilities and left an ad for his services. Doesn't the Guild have a rule about working without getting paid? As a past and, potentially, future customer of the Guild, we are very upset that you would allow one of your employees to use this sort of tasteless advertising tactic. It simply cannot be good publicity for the Guild. I would appreciate a reply on this matter at your earliest possible convenience. Thank you for your time, Dona Torrey, Vaquero Leader (Vaqueros@freenet.com) ___________________________________ Charlyne woke her leaders and showed them her handy work. Torrey and Sherri were furious at the break-in. Torrey simply said, "Send it." So, Charlyne did. ********************************************************************* Fly on a Wall (04/10) By: Berg Oswell, Mercenary (acting independently) Time: Sunday, August 4th, from 4am to noon Place: Nick & Nat Pack HQ This had to be the trickiest infiltration I've ever done. Motion detectors, lasers, pressure sensors, even armed guards. I love a challenge. As the remote-controlled balloon and micro propellor drifted over the grounds, carrying a light line and a grappling hook, I took time to ponder why I was a merc. Again, the answer came back "Chocolate, money, glory, and covert ops". Satisfied, I settled down to wait for it to reach the HQ roof. Quite a few minutes later, it reached the chosen destination, and quietly deflated, lowering the hook into place at the roof edge. Activating a light battery-powered winch, I sent the heavier climbing line inching down towards the hook. After a seeming eternity, but only really a few minutes, the rope was secured. Now came the nerve- wracking part, as I connected myself to the line, and activated a small electric winch, to move myself across the wide open gap. Summer in Toronto, even at night, is rather stifling, especially in a whole-body neoprene suit. And when you don't dare even twitch or scratch an itch, it's even worse. Finally, the horrible journey was over, and I hung, suspended by a thin cord, just below the roof edge. Glancing up, and peering through my goggles, I detected the pencil- thin beams of the laser defense system. Perfect. Moving *verrry* slowly and carefully, I erected a fiber-optic bridge in the lasers, and crept through it. After *carefully* checking for pressure sensors, and finding a spot free of them, I slowly unfolded my camp cot, and, after restoring the lasers, re-inflated the balloon and sent it back to it's nest on the building across the way. I unzipped my specially prepared suit, removing it completely, and lie back, with a nearly inaudible (totally inaudible due to white noise generator) sigh of relief. Now I just had to pray that the second phase was easier than the first. ************ Around 11am ************ After catching a little sleep, I carefully re-routed alarm sensors away from a 1.5' x 1.5' square of roof, and, after quietly weakening it with a flask of acid (don't try this at home kids) followed by a strong base, I quietly cut a hole in the roof. Using a fiber-optic probe, I scouted the area below. Empty. Perfect. It appeared to be some sort of storage closet. Even better. After carefully letting myself down (suspended above the floor), I checked the door for alarms, find none, as expected, except for the fact the door was locked. One quick little bit of persuasion with a lockpick, and I was in. They may have pressure sensors, but they can't turn them on during the day unless they *like* constant false alarms. Even so, I carefully walked along the edges of the hallway, wearing ice skates (slip the blade between the sensor and the wall, and presto). Knowing that most of them tend to spend late knights (eh, pardon the pun) at the Raven, I wasn't too worried about meeting anyone. But just to be on the safe side, I had a paintball-pistol loaded with knockout drops. After placing the bugs (almost undetectable), and others that were inactive until activated by a special signal (undetectable, period), I made my way out the way I came in, replacing my divots, so to speak, with a special glue I use just for repairing roofs. Finally, it was time to go. I triggered my little balloon again, which brought me the cable again. After re-directing the lasers, and setting a set of small charges on the equipment I wouldn't be taking back with me, I hauled in my pack along the rope (rigged for this purpose), and strapped it on. After deploying the wings of my hang- glider, I launched off the edge of the roof, dropping a small package on the doorstep as I went. As the package hit, it sent out a signal to the charges, destroying a couple pieces of incriminating equipment, and thoroughly waking up anyone inside and out. As I sailed down the street and activated the motor, soaring away, I allowed myself a fit of villainous laughter over it all. "MUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!" (In the box was a small piece of smashed electronics, a 2lb bag of M&Ms, and a note reading "Wanna hire a Merc? I'm available. berg@eskimo.com") ********************************************************************* Yes, You're Immortal, But... by Perri Smith and Catherine Boone Aug 4, 3 a.m. Nick's loft They were mostly sleeping when he came back, but woke up quickly as the elevator door closed. "'Lo, Nick," Perri said, then turned over and closed her eyes again. Then the sword-looking-shape-thing registered. "So, you're waiting here to ambush me!" Nick snarled, waving the sword from side to side. "You won't find it so easy to take my head, Gathering or no Gathering." They were all on their feet now, staring at Nick with various degrees of shock and real fear for his sanity. Cath stood over her sleeping bag, shaking her head to try to wake up. "When did we hit Highlander?" "About ten seconds ago," Amy Denton grunted, fighting her blankets to get to her feet. "Um, Nick," Allie started, "no one here is after your head. We're *your* faction, we're not going to try to kill you. You *know* that." "I only know that this is the Gathering!" Nick proclaimed with more fervor than before. "And that there can be only one!" "Now that's a silly rule," Perri said, trying to sound sensible while she groped for her hated glasses and settled them on her face. "I've always thought that was silly -- there's no reason for Immortals to go chopping heads off of their friends. I mean, who wrote these stupid rules anyway --Highlander 2 not withstanding, since it doesn't exist." The incoherent babble apparently confused Nick; the sword stopped moving, at least. Karen took the opportunity to jump in, gesturing at the other bodyguard volunteers to circle around Nick, and keep him away from the elevator. "And you're not that kind of Immortal, anyway, Nick, and neither are we. If we were, your head would be doing weird, buzz kinda things." "Yeah," Katherine chimed in. "And killing us won't get you a Quickening or anything." "So why don't you put the sword down and we'll talk about this?" Cath said soothingly, moving next to the couch and Perri. It almost worked. Nick blinked and started to lower his sword, then abruptly raised it again. "You're trying to confuse me, to make your chore easier. It won't work." He started to turn, aiming his sword at each of them in turn. "Which of you will face me first? Which of you has the courage to clash swords with me?" "Someone call Gillian," Perri muttered. "We need better dialogue." Nick swung on her. "Now you mock me?" he yelled. At least three mouths opened to deliver the obvious Janette line, but everyone managed to restrain themselves. "We're not mocking you, Nick," Dottie said, trying to be calm. "We're trying to tell you that this isn't what you think it is, and we're not sure what happened to you." "So just relax and let us figure out what's happening," Robbie finished, apparaoching Nick slowly. She backed off fast when Nick's sword came after her. Perri sighed, then exchanged looks with Cath and Karen. Cath stooped to pick up Perri's fuzzy tiger blanket at her feet, as Perri moved in front of her to shield her actions. "You know, Nick," Karen, said, trying to distract him, "this Highlander thing really isn't going to work for you. You don't have sneakers, you don't have a ponytail -- this just isn't going to do it. So let's try --" "Now!" Perri yelled. Other hands joined them on the blanket as they threw it over Nick's head, binding the sword before he could do anything. "Believe me, Nick," Perri grunted, "This *is* going to hurt us more than it'll hurt you!" Before she finished, Nick disappeared under the famed Knightie Puppy Pile. "Now that we've got him, what are we going to do with him?" Dottie asked a few minutes later, when they'd successfully planted Knighties on his arms, legs and torso and wrestled the sword away. He was still thrashing, muttering incoherent threats through the blanket, but they only tried to soothe him with words and hands through the blanket. "Amnesia again?" Marg suggested. "Sure sounds like it, but with delusions added," Cath agreed. she pulled the blanket away from him just enough to check the back of his head; then held up fingers stained with blood. "Bingo. But what's with Highlander again? What is it with wars and Highlander?" There was a simultaneous shrug, then Katrinka popped in, "Well, if he's hurt, then we need to get him blood, so he'll heal." "She's right," Perri agreed. "Did he bring any?" A quick search of Nick's belongings resulted in a big fat no. "Hell. The one time in history we want the man to be on blood, and he doesn't have any. This was a bad time to go on the wagon, Nick. I'm sure Amy Ranbow would be proud, but... Where are we going to get blood? We can't exactly go to the Ravenettes, can we?" Cath groaned. "No, not really. Not unless we *want* to become lunch for Janette and Miklos." "We could..." Dottie looked significantly down at her wrist. Perri shook her head vehemently. "Absolutely not, unless there's no other choice! He'd murder us if he ever found out. And if he got out of control, one of us might wind up taking the big dirt nap." "Blood bank or a blood mobile?" Sandra suggested. That idea got serious consideration. "Dammit, it's the middle fo the night and a break-in would just take too long," Catherine finally said. "How about the Vaqueros?" Suzanne suggested. "Vachon's got to have some." "Great, anotehr one we're going to owe them." Perri sighed, then bounced to her feet. Another Knightie took her place on Nick's left arm. "Suzanne, Amy, Marcia, head for the church, tell 'em we need blood fast. Preferably," she gulped, "human. I'll call and tell 'em you're coming. *God*, I wish Natalie was here. Everyone else, stay calm and keep talking to him." The three were dressed and out the door a few seconds later. The rest settled down to wait and try to talk sense into Nick.. ******* "Torrey! Sherri! Apache! Anyone!" Suzanne and Amy exercised their lungs over the loud geese. "Hurry up, we need help!" Sherri appeared outside. "All right, we're up!" she yelled back irritably. "Perri said you needed blood? What'd Nick do this time?" "Nothing," Marcia shouted back, annoyed. "Someone hurt him and he thinks he's an Immortal." Sherri blinked. "He *is* an immortal." "He thinks he's a Duncan Macleod Immortal!" Amy filled in. "We need the blood before he gets loose and starts taking heads! Sherri blinked, then the gravity of the situation sank in; she turned and ran inside. A minute later, the Knighties were in possession of blood and were on their way back to the loft. An amazed Vaquera and a flock of geese watched them go. "Nick Knight meets Duncan Macleod," Sherri mused. "Could be fun." ****** "We got it!" "Good, bring it over here!" Cath shifted away from Nick's head enough to jerk the blanket off of it. He blinked in the sudden light. "So you've decided to defeat me through trickery?" he yelled. "Go ahead, take my head! I wouldn't waste my sword on a lot like you! I'll..." Cath sighed and upended the bottle over his mouth before he could say anything else. "Shut up and make your medicine like a good boy, Nickie. Your head is safe with us." "Yeah, it's the rest of your body that we want," Dottie cracked. The Knighties giggled nervously as Nick fought the blood, then, finally, started swallowing. He shuddered, once, then twice, then his muscles went limp. Cath pulled the bottle away and leaned over him. "Nick?" He opened his eyes, staring up at her. "Catherine? Why are you sitting on me?" Perri opened her mouth to make another obvious come-back, then changed her mind. "It seemed like a good idea at the time. Nick, do you still think you're Duncan Macleod?" He looked at her with complete bafflement. "What are you talking about?" A group sigh was released. "He's cured," Karen pronounced, getting off of his leg. Everyone else stood up, more or less reluctantly, and helped him to his feet. He rubbed the back of his head, then his chest, where the blood had dripped. His eye caught on the sword leaning against the couch and he stared at it for a long moment before turning to Perri and Cath. "Someone *is* going to explain, aren't they?" "Better," Cath growled. "Someone's going to *pay*." ********************************************************************* Memories Light the Corners (1/1) by Sandra Gray, Knightie August 4th, 4:00 a.m. (after "Yes, You're Immortal, But...") Nick looked around at his followers in some confusion. Their expressions which were mixtures of relief, anxiety, and anger. "Nick, what happened?" asked Sandra. Nick looked down at the blood on his shirt again, then felt the remnants in his mouth of blood...human blood...on his tongue. The taste, the smell... "Happened?" he asked, feeling guilty and forcing his mind away from the allure of the blood. "You went out? Where?" Nick forced himself to think. He remembered going out, the people with swords on the roof. "I saw people fighting with swords, I..." "Where?" "Hotel roof," said Nick. After a pause to think, he elaborated with the address. "Toronto Trek," said Cath. "A Highlander exhibition or game or something." "Did someone there hurt you?" Nick realized that his head still hurt a little. He raised his hand to the back of his head. "Someone hit me with something, when I went through the door to the top floor." "One of the people with the swords?" asked Sandra. "No. They were still outside." "Did you see who hit you?" asked Perri. Nick frowned, then shook his head. "No. Wait...there was movement...above me." He paused, closing his eyes. "And I remember...perfume." "Can you remember anything else?" asked Perri. Nick shook his head. "I bet it was Dianne the Merc," growled Sandra. "We don't know that," said Perri. "We need to see what else we can find out." ********************************************************************* Bodyguards Again!! by: Robbi Egersdorf with help and direction from Dotti Rhodes, Nancy Taylor, Katrinka Kendall, Carrie Krumtum, Karen Tobin and Amy Rambow. Time: Monday, Aug 5, 1996 directly after "Memories Light the Corners" and just before "Was that a bird... ?" and "Was that what I think it was?" ------------------- Nick was still stunned by the story that had been related to him. He put a hand up to the back of his head where he could barely feel the injury that was quickly healing, due to the human blood that had been forced on him. "We need to send the Vaqs a thanks." Nick looked at Cath. "Already done. We sent them a nice box of Godiva (tm) chocolates with your compliments," Perri stated. Nick smiled, "Good." He looked to Perri, who was sitting next to Cath at the dining room table. Everyone was catching their breath in the aftermath of Nick's immie delusion. They all had breathed a heavy sigh of relief that none of them had lost their head. "Karen and the some others want to talk to you, again." Cath motioned to the knot of Knighties that had been standing off some distance, discussing their plans. Nick started to object, knowing full well what it was going to be in regards to. "Just hear what they have to say. That's all they want. And remember, they only have your best interests at heart." Nick nodded, with reservation. The group approached the table. Some were a little timid due to the flat turndown they had received the last time while others had grim determination on their faces; a simple *no* was not going to deter them from their self-appointed duties. They looked to Karen, who had spoken for them last time. She was deeply upset by what had just happened and did not trust herself to speak calmly enough right now to be convincing. She knew that if she seemed too emotional, or worse, if she cried, he would immediately dismiss what she was saying. She whispered to Dotti "You talk to him. He might _listen_ to you..." Dotti took a seat next to Nick and put a hand on his as they rested on the table before him. "I guess I've been appointed as spokesperson for this lot of volunteers." It was a good job for her since she was comfortable at that moment in saying what had to be said. "First, we want you to understand how much danger you are in in this war. You have never faced the situation where every other affiliation is out to get you for one reason or another, the NatPack and the Ravens among them. They all want a piece of you." Robbi stepped forward and added, "Look what happened to you. The instant you're out of here you get bonked on the head. You could have really hurt someone with that thing." She motioned to the sword that still stood in the corner. Nick nodded in agreement with that statement. It had really scared him when he had come to himself, realizing he might have actually beheaded someone. He shuddered to think of it again. Karen then stepped forward with a look of resolution in her eyes. "We are all just as dedicated to this idea as we were when we first mentioned it, if not more so." "Amen, sister!" Nancy shouted, then looked around selfconsciously. The comments from the group quieted and Dotti picked up the ball again. "What we really want to say to you is cut the macho vamp stuff. Right now, Nick darlin', you're an easy target as you have discovered. It's not that you're not a big boy, you're just a little too vulnerable right now for your own good. There's nothing wrong with accepting a little help every now and then. We all need help once in a while, even you." Nancy took up the conversation, next. "Whether or not you want to admit it, you're quite fragile right now and we all understand this." She had a dead serious look in her eye. "I'm ready to stand by you and do my very best to see that you don't get hurt again. If we don't at least try, we'll regret it. You have to let us try." "Ooo." He sucked in a lung full of air and let it out slowly. "I have to say..." He looked at the faces of those who had stepped forward to offer him support, a support he was glad to have. They looked at him in expectation and it was almost more than he could bear. His first instinct was to say *no*. After all, hadn't he always handled things on his own? He was used to being the lone wolf, relying on no one, and then he had been paired with Schanke. He had learned to rely on someone else to a small degree. "I'll have to say... give me some time to think about it. Will you ? I want you all to know that I appreciate your concern." He put a hand on Dotti's head and tousled her hair, smiling. "We'll be sending someone out to investigate today, to see if we can catch the sneak who did this detestable thing to you. They'll get theirs." Cath grinned and rubbed her hands in delight at the thought of another attack to plan. "This is all well and good, but I've got to get some rest." He headed through the Knighties who stood around, some calling "Have a good sleep, Nick," others venturing for a *goodday* hug or kiss. Once he had disappeared up the stairs, Perri turned back to the Knighties, "He's just humoring you when he says he'll think about it and Amy will tell you so." "If he still says no, we'll follow him anyway!!!" Dotti stood from the table. "Yes, If still he refuses, tail him anyway! He can be such a brick. I love him, but he can be such a brick." Carrie commented. "Don't use the 'B' word around here, please. It could be dangerous." (I can't remember who made this comment) "I for one say we are not going to be caught sleeping again. I work night shifts and should be able to stay awake. Are we all agreed then that we will watch him whether or not he accepts?" Robbi asked of those who were gathered around the table. There was a unanimous affirmative reply. Perri and Cath could understand their concern. They knew Nick well enough to know there would be no way to guard him night and day. If these crazy Knighties wanted to watch him, they would have to do it without his consent or knowledge. Perri asked the Knighties who still surrounded the table, "Who wants to volunteer to go where the TTrek was held and see what you can find out?" Carrie and Katrinka stepped forward. "Very good. You know what to ask. See if you can find someone that was at the TTrek, someone who saw the attack. "Can we take the caddy, huh, pleassse?" Katrinka begged. "Yes, let us take the caddy. We'll be ever so careful." The Knightie leaders were hesitant, thinking of the last time they had let the caddy out. It had been left in town and they had to send someone to fetch it. It had come back in one piece, though. "Okay, but be very careful, Nick wouldn't look kindly on something happening to his car," Perri cautioned as she handed over the keys. Karen offered, "Here, take my cellular phone in case you run into any problems and need to get a hold of the rest of us in a hurry." She handed the phone to Katrinka and they left. Several other Knighties had slowly drifted over to the table, curious about the intense conversation that was taking place. Perri and Cath were discussing something seriously in whispers that could barely be heard by those who were closest to them "I think we better have some blood on hand just in case we need it again." Cath ventured. "This time let's make it cow. I don't think he was very happy with the human blood we got him this time." Perri cautioned. They both nodded in agreement and turned back to the group. "We need to have someone go to the butcher and get Nick some cow's blood today." Cath asked the gathered Knighties Lauren eagerly stepped forward. "I'd love to go." They waited and no one else volunteered. "Robbi, you and Nancy go with Lauren. I think he usually gets his blood at the butchers by CERK radio, you know the one. If you need an exact address, we can look it up in the phone book." "You can take my car, it's a five-speed though. Can you handle it?" Karen held out the keys. Robbi took the keys that were offered. "Yes, that's what mine back home is. It won't be any problem." "I think I saw some empty, clean bottles in one of the cupboards in the kitchen, Take them with you to fill up." Perri directed. They found about a dozen empty bottles and a nice wooden crate to pack them in and left to complete their task. To be continued in "Was that a bird... ?" and "Was that what I think it was?" ********************************************************************* Just Another Day by Dianne la Mercenaire [Timeline: August 4, 4:15am <--look! I picked an actual time! :->; follows "Quick, Get the Fly-Swatter!"] [Place: The High Bastions of Raw and Absolute Power (i.e. Merc Central :-)] Fun as the Shakespeare evening had been, it meant another late, late night for our tired Merc heroes, Dianne and Chris... Crashing down in her big, comfy, plush, oak chair (can you tell I'm sitting on a little dinky metal secretary chair right now? :-p), Dianne debated whether to check her email one last time before going to bed. All common sense warned her that that way madness lay.... But it was Wartime, and common sense held very little sway at the moment. With a sigh she rested the Original Shillelagh of What Must Be Presumed to Be At Least Extreme Pain (If Not Actually Death) -- obtained by great stealth (well, O.K., by grabbing it when LaCroix had taken off in disgust, Nick was outside, Nat was out cold on the floor, and... well... everyone was just a _little_ bit too busy to notice ) on That Fateful Night and guarded jealously ever since-- against the oak-paneled wall, opened her mailbox, and--with a sigh and to everyone's great relief-- ended the sentence-from-Hell. Immediately Common Sense started grumbling something that sounded suspiciously like "I *told* you so!" Without looking up, she poured herself a big glass of iced tea. "Hey," Christina spoke up from the almost-as-comfy chair on the other side of the big Poohbah-sized desk, "can I have some of your special GHP iced-tea?" "Sure," Dianne agreed, not looking up as the Merc-Mommy General reached for a glass, took a long drink-- and choked violently. "Careful, it's triple-strength, you know." "It's *swill*!" Chris spluttered, with a truly disgusted expression on her face. "Yeah, it's swill, but it's *highly-caffeinated* swill-- and that's what matters." Dianne looked up and smiled. "That's why 'it's lonely at the top' and all that." "Besides," she added with a decided smirk, "Unlike _certain_ people I could mention, I can choke down _any_ tea with a smile if that's what it takes-- and believe me, in Wartime that's *exactly* what it takes." She sighed as she turned back to the screen. "Consider it 'sleep- substitute-in-a-glass'." "Remind me again never to become Poohbah." "Don't worry," answered absently as she flipped through the messages. "The naked lust for power that's inherent in all Mercs will cause you to forget all this soon enough for me to dump the job off on _someone_ else by next War... if I can stay awake long enough to remember, that is." "Just don't look at *me*," Chris muttered as she poured the noxious substance down the drain of the little mini-bar sink and poured herself something less toxic. Looking at the last email, Dianne found herself fighting the overwhelming urge to simply *not deal*. After all, she'd dealt all day with the accounts of Mercs _still_ in arrears over their Guild dues... _then_ there had been the complaints about pink and blue Mercs (she didn't *want* to know about it!) tying up all the hot water and tub- space in the house. This whole administrative thing was giving her a Poohbah-sized headache. And now this.... Looking up, Chris noticed Dianne's annoyed frown. "What's up?" "The Vaqueros are cranky. Apparently Berg's been a little over- enthusiastic with his 'advertising' again." Now it was Chris' turn to frown. "So why are they coming to you with it?" "Mistaken notion of where the buck stops in the Guild, I suspect," Dianne answered, opening up a reply window. "Common enough mistake. They're suggesting he's broken the Charter too. I'm almost tempted to make that thing public-- might clear up a lot of the confusion...." "Just *maybe*," Chris smiled. "But then, what would be the fun?" "True," Dianne agreed. "Well, one little note and *I* am off to bed!" "Amen to that!" Chris agreed with a yawn. ---------------- To: Vaqueros@freenet.com From: cat.goddess@pobox.com (Her Poohbahness) Re: Renegade Mercs Dear Torrey, I received your message and am sorry to hear that you were inconvenienced in this fashion. However, your complaint to me demonstrated an unfortunate misunderstanding of the nature of the Mercenary Guild. Please allow me to clarify matters, as well as suggest a solution. > We have this very morning been attacked by one of your members: > . He bugged our facilities and left an ad for > his services. > Doesn't the Guild have a rule about working without getting paid? We do indeed have such a rule and vigorously enforce it. However, by long-standing tradition, actions performed as advertisement for services (with the intent of procuring future income) are determined to be an acceptable case of 'self-employment', and as such have been exempted from the need to demonstrate immediate and specific payment by an outside party. This holds true no matter how 'inventive' these advertising techniques are. > As a past and, potentially, future customer of the Guild, we > are very upset that you would allow one of your employees to > use this sort of tasteless advertising tactic. It simply cannot > be good publicity for the Guild. Here it is clear that there is indeed a serious misunderstanding as to the basic nature of the Mercenaries. The Guild is not in any sense an "employer," but is rather a loose federation of independent contractors who have banded together for mutual protection and financial gain. In fact, no one hires 'the Merc Guild', they only hire individual Mercs (although, on rare occasion, those Mercs hired may, in fact, constitute the entire membership). While there are a few specific rules which each member agrees to be bound by for the good of all, We do not see that Berg has, in this case, violated any of them. Thus we are not the parties to contact with your concern. As per usual procedure, I urge you to take up your complaints directly with the _employer_ of the Merc in question. (In this particular case, they are in fact one and the same.) Should you need assistance in this (or any other) matter, I would be happy to recommend the services of several Mercs who are currently accepting jobs. (Given the nature of the situation I assume you are not interested in hiring Berg for this, however we have many excellent members to choose from. I would be happy to provide a complete list upon request.) I must warn you, however, that-- per the rules of the Charter-- a Merc is not permitted to _attack_ another Merc, whether or not profit is involved. In addition I cannot stress too highly the Guild's firm policy on retribution. As stated before, all retribution should be directed at the Merc's *employer* (names, locations, and email addresses usually available upon request) and not at the Merc herself(himself). This should be kept in mind, even though, in this particular case, it is ultimately a moot distinction. I appreciate your interest and concern, and hope that your affiliation will continue to think first of the members of the Merc Guild when considering your mayhem-ic needs. Sincerely, Dianne la Mercenaire Grand High Poohbah Forever Knight Mercenary Guild ------------------------- As she finished and hit , she noticed Chris watching at her shoulder. "Um... Dianne, you've been back in Corporate America too long." "It's only been two weeks!" "Trust me, dear," Christina shook her head in dismay. "It's already been too long." ********************************************************************* You Know That I Love You, Nat By Elizabeth Ann Lewis Sunday, August 4th, about 8 AM Chanda Keith's Van, parked behind the Raven--the roaming Immortal Beloved Headquarters Ma Wombat carefully looked right, looked left, and looked right again. No Immortal Beloveds in sight. Good. Time to move in. Carefully, she slipped out of hiding and ran for the parked van. It was a great inconvience for the 1/64th Moravian wombat to be unable to morph into wombat form. However, it let her hone her sneaking skills to a sharp edge. It took a few minutes of jimming and jamming before she got the doors open, jumped inside, and slammed them shut behind her. She pulled the video tape she and Lizbet had made a few hours before out of her pocket and popped it in the VCR inside the van. She turned on the TV and VCR, pressed play, and watched as Nick and Nat appeared on the screen, in the Missing Scene (tm) from Last Knight. "Well then, it's simple," Nat said, her face and voice weary but firm. "You just have to love me as much as I love you." "You know that I love you, Nat." Nick protested. The frame froze for a few seconds on his earnest expression, then zipped back to the beginning of the two-line exchange. Ma made a couple of other small adjustments, soldering the plugs of the TV and VCR to their outlets so they could not be removed, jamming both the "stop" and the "pause" buttons, slightly breaking the VCR so that the tape could not be ejected, breaking the TV so it could not be shut off. Ma watched for a few moments, then smiled. The tape was a six-hour SLP type, all six hours were the same two lines, and when it reached the end of its run it would rewind and automatically begin again. Ma finished up, scooted out of the van, and headed back to the Secret Command Center. Lizbet would be pleased. Lizbet's employer would be pleased. And Ma would get her Pepsi and lavender peeps. -------- Later, at the N&N Pack Headquarters... "Is it done?" Laura, N&NPack leader, asked. "It's done. The Immortal Beloveds are probably going bonkers right now, listening to that tape." Lizbet snickered. She was a Merc to the bone, but she always had a soft heart for tortured lovers. Nick and Nat were perfect for each other. Laura pulled out the stock folder and handed it to the cheerful Merc. "Here you go. Stock in the Godiva Chocolate Company, just as you asked." Lizbet accepted it with extreme gratitude. "Thank you! Now I can pay my rent and Guild dues! And Dianne was just muttering about that fact this morning..." "If you're interested..." Laura began. Lizbet cut her off with a laugh. "Sorry, but I'm booked up for the rest of the War! I loved the two jobs you hired me for this time, but I can't take another job." "Thanks anyway. And remember..." The two women chorused as one, "In Love and Faith there Is Forever!" ********************************************************************* Who's still in arrears? I am! I AM! <1/1> John Ewan/ John the Lone Ratpacker Should be around 10 AM Sunday 8/4 Toronto, Merc Central, GHP's office John lugged in a large sack and set it on the floor beside Dianne's desk. "Yo, that nose-boinkin' ratvamp chased all my good li'l ratskis away. I'm donating what's left of the kibble as part of my rent." John adjusted his glasses, brushed his finger back and forth under his mustache and stood at parade rest. Dianne took a deep breath, glanced at the bag of rat food and said, "twenty-five cents." "A quarter a pound?!?" John cried, his Merc heart palpitating wildly, "That's only Five bucks! Nah, let's try a dollar a pound; that's twenty off what I owe. Or do I have to start figuring the hours of night watches those rats stood in the basement keepin' it safe...?" Dianne scowled, "No one has attacked us through the basement!" she said, in the most blood-chilling voice this side of mortality. John, as always, oblivious to imminent grave danger, smirked, "My point exactly! Superb defensive procedures, don't chya know." He stroked his goatee as he awaited her reply. Dianne took firm hold of the papers in her hand, and breathed in and out slowly. She knew it would not look good to kill a member of the Guild, at least not without being paid for it. That had to be against some part of the Charter. Dianne smiled, "You had about a thousand rats down there?" John grinned, "Yeppers! One thousand, seven hundred and twenty three, reported for duty, SIR!" and he snapped to attention and got off a fine, smart salute. Dianne blinked, then shook her head. She returned the salute and clasped her hands on the desk. "I want... a payment request form for each and every rat for each and every day you claim they 'stood watch'." She smiled as she gazed at him, expecting anquished realization to spread over that face. "Certainly, I'll begin immediately," John retorted brightly, a strange cunning gleam lighting his eyes, "and you'll have to personally authorize every one of them!" Dianne sighed, "Twenty dollars towards your rent for the bag of kibble." John nodded, "Done deal! Pleasure doin' business with ya!" ********************************************************************* By Any Other Name by Cousin Erik LeBeau Time: Sunday 8/4 11:45 am Place: RDM Chocolate Shop Cousin Erik popped up from the sewers (hey, you try to walk down the streets of Toronto in a mask without looking conspicuous :D) to find himself in the alley behind the Rich, Dark, and Mysterious Chocolate Shop set up by the Mercs. He eased around to the front door and walked inside. The woman behind the counter did a double-take at her new customer, but put on her best manager face and said, "Hi. Welcome to RDM. I'm Kira. Can I help you with anything today?" "I would like a dozen long-stemmed white roses." "Certainly, sir. Would you like them now, or shall I have them delievered?" "Delivered, please. To this address." Erik scrawled the address on a slip of paper and handed it to Kira. "But this is the address for Vachon's church!" "Yes." "But you're a Cousin!" "Right again." "And you don't want any surveillance equipment or nasty gadgets attached to the roses?" "Three for three." "If you don't mind me asking, why are you sending roses to a Vaquera?" Erik shrugged. "Some things in life span all lines drawn to contain it." Kira quirked an eyebrow at that, but let it pass. "Well, why don't you pick out which box and which ribbon you'd like, and I'll have those roses delievered for you." Erik surveyed the selection and finally decided on a long white box and a nice red satin ribbon. "These." "Excellent choices, sir. Would you like to attach a note?" "As a matter of fact, I would." Erik took the stationery Kira offered him and wrote, "To Bonnie, a woman who goodness and purity outshines the sun. --O.G." Kira took the note and pretended not to read over it. "All right, sir, that should just about do it. That will be $34.50." Erik reached into his back pocket and pulled out two 20 dollar bills. "Keep it," he said nonchalantly as he handed the money to Kira. "Thank you very much. The roses will be delivered directly." The masked Cousin executed a graceful sweeping bow and exited the store, headed back toward the sewers. ********************************************************************* Black Buddha Deja Vu (01/02) By Kathy Whelton, Knightie with Leslie GrantSmith, Cousin with inspiration from Suzanne Campagna, Knightie Time: Sunday, 8/4 -- morning After: Nightcrawlin' (02/02) Leslie dialed the number to Nick's Loft, palms of her hands a bit damp with nerves. She had finally run across a Knightie she trusted to listen to something she, a Cousin, and a CERK Jerk at that, had to say. She wasn't sure what her fellow Cousins would think about this call she was making. Karies would be cool, she knew that, but if Leslie got herself in trouble with their Dear Friends And Relations, she didn't want to drag her buddy down with her. So that was why she was making the call from a pay phone, not the possibly monitored cell phone provided by LaCroix, while Karies slept, snuggled up with her feline thugs. The receiver on the other end was picked up and a brisk feminine voice said, "Good morning." "Good morning," Leslie responded, wincing a bit as the clear voice pierced her sober and therefore unprotected brain. "I would like to speak to Kathy Whelton, please." A brief silence followed, then the voice inquired, "Whom may I say is calling?" "I'd rather not say, if you don't mind." The silence repeated itself, then the voice said coolly, "One moment, please." Leslie shoved her free hand deep into the front pocket of her jeans, lowering her head to let her hair fall forward to protect her eyes form the morning light. She hoped she wasn't getting Kathy into trouble with this call. Finally, another voice came over the line, soft and gentle, kind to her hungover head. Perhaps Kathy was dealing with a similar physical condition. "Hello? Who is this?" "Kathy. This is Leslie." "Le-" Kathy's voice became even softer and a bit muffled. "What do *you* want?" "Dude," Leslie chuckled. "You still mad at me? That was your honey on my chair and my date you sauntered off with." Kathy remained silent a moment, then laughed. "True. What *do* you want?" "Kathy, I'd like to meet with you somewhere. Alone." "Why does this sound like a really stupid idea?" "I have something I'd like to return. To Nick. And I trust you to get it to him." "Oh." "Yeah. So whaddaya think?" "All right," Kathy said slowly. "Where?" "You name the place and the time and I'll be there." "I'll meet you at Habourfront Park in 30 min." "I'll be there." Kathy hung up the phone. Was she making another mistake? Her interactions with the two Cousins so far had brought her nothing but grief. Not to mention a hangover beyond belief. Kathy's eyes quickly scanned the loft. Suzanne Campagna! One of the few Knighties that was still talking to her after all her troubles. "Hey, Suze." "Oh no," thought Suze. "Not Whelton again." Suze smiled sweetly nonetheless. "What's up?" "I just got a phone call from Leslie GrantSmith. She wants to meet with me. To return the Buddha that she took from the loft the night the Cousins broke in," Kathy stated calmly. "What!" Suze exploded, her voice not quite so sweet and clear now. "Are you out of your Knightie mind, girl? After all the trouble you have gotten into over those two ... Cousins? You want to meet with them again?" "I know, I know," Kathy replied. "I have made a few mistakes since coming to Toronto. She sounded so sincere, though. I think she is genuinely interested in doing the right thing. If I didn't believe that there was potential for good in everyone, I wouldn't be a Knightie. I would belong to one of the other fac ... affiliations." "You're right, of course. We should give them one more chance. Don't forget though, we have reservations for that harbor cruise this morning," stated Suze. "I told her to meet us at Habourfront Park. That's right near where we leave for the cruise. Our reservations are for 10:00am. This should work out perfectly." The pair headed in unison for the elevator door. "Do you think we should tell someone where we are going? You know, in case something should happen?" Suze asked. "Naw, what could go wrong?" Kathy replied. "You don't suppose that awful Karies woman is going to be with her, do you?" Suze asked. "Leslie, I can take, but Karies ... she ... looms." ***** Leslie sat in the Voyager, nervously tapping the wheel, scanning the parking lot for Kathy. She had snitched the keys from the sleeping Karies' pants' pocket, hoping her friend would stay comatose while she was on her errand. Leslie decided to bring back honey buns and coffee, as a peace offering and an excuse for taking the van. Finally, she spotted the Knightie, walking over from the nearest bus stop, the other woman from the bar, Suze at her side. Wary, the Cousin inspected the people around them for any other possible Knighties, but they are generally indistinguishable from normal people, and she saw no one suspicious. She got out of the van and walked over to the two Knighties. She nodded to them when they got into speaking distance. "Hey, Kathy, Suze." "Hi, Leslie. Is Karies here?" "Naw. She needs her sleep. Her cats were complete toads all night." "They didn't keep you awake?" "Yeah, but I'm a mom. Sleep deprivation is a way of life." Kathy nodded in agreement, then taking a deep breath, said, "Well? May I have it?" "Oh, sure. I got it here." She scrabbled through her pack and pulled the little statue out. Both Knighties flinched at the sight of the evil omened thing, though it looked a little less ominous with the silly little cord knotted around its neck. "What's that?" Suze demanded, pointing at the cord. "That wasn't on there before." "That's why I took it. It has a dark aura, one that would have a negative impact on someone like Nick. He really shouldn't keep it around, but I know he's a responsible kinda guy and he doesn't want other folks to get hurt by it. So I ... bound it up. The knotted cord kinda contains the ... energy leaking from it." Suze shook her head at the superstitious mumbo-jumbo, and Kathy said dubiously, "So, you're saying it's safe now?" "Well, as safe as this little guy can ever be." Leslie shrugged. "Just so long as you leave the cord on, it won't leak ickies on Nick. I'd appreciate it if you'd let him know that. Whether he believes it or not ... well, I dunno. But just point out to him there's no *harm* in leaving the cord on, whatever he believes. Okay?" "Oookay," Kathy acceded, eyebrows lifted. "Why did you do this anyway? I mean, what do you care what happens to Nick?" Leslie grinned, shrugging. "Just like his dad, I got Nick's best interests at heart. Um, sorry if we caused you grief." Kathy took a deep breath, and said, "Well, it's been a real learning experience for me. Forgiveness is a virtue and I'm working hard on developing the ability to forgive. A lot like Nick, I guess." "Yeah, well," Leslie drawled with a slanting grin, "it's clear you're not Cousin material. Forgiveness just ain't in our bag of tricks. But if I got yours ... cool. I gotta get back now. Karies is gonna want her coffee. She tends to be a bit out of sorts before she gets her caffeine." "She seems a bit out of sorts *after* she gets her caffeine," Suze muttered. Leslie gazed at her blankly. "Karies? Dude, she has a heart of gold. She's just a little ... snarky. See ya, guys. Let's grab a drink together after the War sometime." Leslie sauntered off, whistling Bach's Ode to Joy. Kathy and Suze exchanged a bemused look, shrugged and Kathy tucked the little figure into her backpack. Continued in part 2 ********************************************************************* We're Going to Make Them Pay by Chanda Keith and Felicia Bollin Immortal Beloveds Sunday, August 4th, morning Chanda Keith's Van, parked behind the Raven--the roaming Immortal Beloved Headquarters "What in the world?" Chanda said as she opened the van door. "NNOOOOO! I'm going to kill them!! Better yet, my cousin is going to kill them!!! Felicia!!" "What?" Felicia said as she poked her head out of the back door of the club. "What's wrong? What's that noise?" "The Nick & Natpackers have rigged a tape of some sort of fake scene from Last Knight! That's what's wrong! Even worse, they broke the VCR so that I can't shut it off!! I'm going to kill them!! Can you get me a pair of gloves?" "Gloves? What for?" "Whoever did this apparently didn't know much about cars and electronics. The electricity running the VCR comes from the car battery. Unhook the battery and the VCR stops. Unfortunately, we'll have to have a mechanic to repair the van but at least we won't have to listen to that drivel." "I'll find some gloves." Felicia said as she hurried away. A few minutes later she came back with a pair of silk opera gloves. "Here you go." she said as she handed them to Chanda. "I was hoping for work gloves but I guess these will have to do." Chanda muttered as she put them on and started to fumble around under the hood. A few minutes later the VCR finally stopped. "There. Now we just have to go find a mechanic who can fix this today." "That's not going to be cheap." Felicia said as they went inside. "No need to worry. You remember my camera, the one with the hair trigger? Well, it just so happens that it was in the van and whoever put that tape in must have bumped it because it took a picture. We can drop off the roll at a one hour photo place and with any luck we'll have a picture of our vandal." "Do you recognize her?" Felicia said a few hours later as she inspected the picture. The van would be returned in a few hours and both Immortal Beloveds wanted to know who to send the bill to. "She looks a little weird," Felicia observed, looking at the picture. "Weird how?" Chanda asked, not really paying attention as she comtimplated how they would pay for repairs if they couldn't figure out who was responsible. Felicia shook her head. "No. You're gonna think I'm crazy." "Come on, Felicia, tell me! There's no time for this. *We're* sitting here almost going crazy, trying to figure out who made us listen to a scene that really doesn't exist, if you think about it!" "Oh great, _now_ you're getting into metaphysics," Felicia said accusingly. Chanda pierced her with a look. "She looks a little like a wombat," Felicia said. "Just a little bit, around the eyes there, see?" "A wombat? Of course!!" "Wait a minute. Do you understand what's going on here?" "I think so. I know who attacked us anyway. Her name's Antonia something-or-other." Felicia, frankly forgetting about Immortal Beloved dignity, scratched her head. "How'd you think of that?" Chanda looked at her with extreme pity. "Oh that's right. I forgot, you don't keep up with Highlander at all." Ignoring Felicia's tiny shudder, she went on. "Antonia's a merc in the FK universe but over in the Highlander universe she's a wombat, whatever that means. At least we know who to send the bill to now! If she has a problem with it, she can send it to her employers!" Several hours later, a neatly itemized bill arrived at Merc headquarters with a picture attached. Dear Antonia, enclosed is a bill for repairs to the Immortal Beloved van sustained during an merc attack this morning. As you can see, due to the fact that this occured on a weekend, the repair work was quiet expensive. Attached is a copy of the picture linking you to the crime. If you have problems with this bill, please fill free to foward it to your employers. Sincerely, Chanda Keith and Felicia Bollin Immortal Beloveds Repair of jimmied door 200.00 Tape removal and repair of VCR 500.00 Replacement of soldered plugs 100.00 Rewiring and replacement of outlet 150.00 Repair of TV 350.00 Battery replacement 175.99 Total 1325.99 ********************************************************************* Brunch for Six and Settings for Three (1/2) by Tigon Diana Hooker/AlphaWoof o' WoofPack Sunday/4 APR 1996/Noonish Toronto, FG Mansion Tigon settled herself at the kitchen table with a bowl of blood and a box of Saltines. Timon buzzed happily about her head and her three mortal dogs munched kibble in the corner. The other dogs chose to finish their meals in the basement, so she had left the door open for their return. She was in the process of soaking the first cracker, Timon perched impatiently on her cast, when she was startled by Lisa's entrance into the kitchen. Tigon knew it was Lisa by the way she immediately rushed over to mop up the blood spilt when Tigon twitched at her appearance. "You're so jumpy...let me go fill the bowl up again." A few minutes later, Tigon was again trying to soak a cracker and Lisa was eating a bowl of cereal, when Tigon again twitched, this time at the sound of what could only be Lizbet's thumping stride. The Merc came into the kitchen to find Lisa mopping up the second bowl and a very agitated Timon. Five minutes later, *Timon* was soaking a cracker in the third bowl, Lisa was dumping out her soggy cereal and refilling it with a fresh batch, and Lizbet was plopping down at the table with cheese and Lebanon baloney. Much to Lizbet's amusement, Tigon scrunched into the corner as far as she get from the stuff. A second later, she took a closer look at Tigon. "When did you last sleep?" "Friday," said Lisa. "She disappeared into her room and left a *very* impolite note on her door." "Hmmm," said Lizbet, "So you've slept in the past 48 hours, which is more than I can say for myself, so that can't be it. When did you last eat?" Tigon stared at her owlishly. "Okay," said Lizbet, "Time to eat." Tigon automatically put a cracker in her mouth and chewed. "You'll need something more substantial than that, m'dear....though, I wouldn't mind having one of...no! No I can't" The little Merc shook off her cracker lust and began rummaging through the fridge, pulling out some grapes, bread, and turkey slices. "Here," said Lisa, shoving her cereal box towards Tigon, who took it automatically. "NO!" shrieked Lizbet, "Are you insane? Never give her refined sugar...she'll bounce off the walls for days." "She does that anyways." "Yes," said Lizbet, "Now imagine it augmented to the point that *she* considers it odd." The thought was so horrible that Lisa shuddered... into Cousin Suk. "Hey!" she said, "Give me back my cereal." She snatched the box from Tigon, who twitched again and groped for the Shillelagh under the table. Dumping food in front of Tigon, Lizbet settled back in front of her own meal. "Hi, Suk," she said to the new arrival, then went on to tell Tigon in her very best mother tone, "You need to eat, dear. You forgot again." Tigon complied, but eyed 'Suk' nervously. "What's with her this morning?" queried the cousin, "She's about as jumpy as I've ever seen her." "Well, considering what she did to Cherri last night, I imagine she's expecting the unexpected." "She...*DID* something? To *Cousin* Cherri?" "Oh, you were there! You remember, don't you?" said Lizbet. "The socks? Methos..." the merc's eyes took on a glazed look...a look that did not belong to the merc. Tigon twitched again as Rosemund suddenly looked at the Lebanon baloney she held and tossed it down in disgust. "What manner of meat tis this? Tis most foul!" Tigon suddenly liked the Ren Faire wench just a little. ********************************************************************* Brunch for Six and Settings for Three (2/2) by Tigon Diana Hooker/AlphaWoof o' WoofPack Sunday/4 APR 1996/Noonish Toronto, FG Mansion Suk pounded her fist on the table, "What happened to Cherri?" Of course, she knocked over the bowl of blood. Timon chittered at her noisily. "Oh my, I'm so sorry," said the newly returned Lisa, "Let me clean that up and get some more." 'Rosemund' meanwhile, had finished off the cheese. "My belly is filled, yet I find a craving still within me unsatisfied." Tigon winced, for there was only one craving usually associated with the Faire wench...it usually involved hunting down men for games of tonsil hockey. "Methinks, yes," Rosemund eyed the box of crackers, "Yes, the smell which doth emanate from that odd container...tis that which I want." The box was seized by the drooling wench, and she began stuffing crackers into her mouth as quickly as she could get them out of the box. Timon retreated to the relative safety of Tigon's shoulder. A quandry was afoot here...to try to divest the rabid wench of the crackers that her alter-ego Merc was forbidden to eat, or to make a break for it while the going was good. "Oh, my...LIZBET! You aren't supposed to eat those!" Returned from the basement, Lisa plunked the new bowl of blood down on the table and tried to grab the crackers from the resisting Rosemund. A tug-of-war ensued, and somewhere in the middle Lisa became Suk again. "Let go, you psycho-merc!" That snapped Lizbet back, "Psycho? Look who's calling who a psycho! Wait a minute...why am I holding a box of crackers? TIGON! This is your rat's fault!" Timon retreated into Tigon's pocket. The mortal dogs slipped into the basement. Tigon tried to figure how she could sneak out past the two people (or five, depending on one's point of view) who blocked her way. "Don't yell at her, Lizbet..." Lisa, again. "She's obviously feeling a little stressed." Lizbet harrumphed and sat down again, "Where did my cheese go?" "I'll get you some more from the fridge," said Lisa. She tossed Lizbet the package, then dumped out another bowl of soggy cereal and refilled it with another fresh batch. Sitting down, she said brightly, "Wasn't that a nice party? It was so nice of that actor to show up." Tigon winced...sure enough, Lizbet's eyes glazed. "Tis a most comely man indeed!" stated Rosemund enthusiastically. Then she eyed the baloney in her hand, "Faugh...where is that lovely flatbread?" She grabbed a cracker from Timon just as he was about to dip it in his newest bowl of blood. "Indeed. I remember when I first met him on the banks of the Nile 3000 years ago..." waxed Angelique, obviously confusing the actor-who- looked-like-Peter-Wingfield-who-played-the-Highlander-Methos-that-did- not-exist-in-this-universe-with-a-Methos-that-*did*-exist-in-her- universe. She grabbed Timon's bowl of blood and took a healthy slug. "Eeeew!" said everyone present, in tandem. Timon gave up on eating and left. Angelique sprayed blood all over Tigon. "What is this???" "How foul!" said Rosemund. "This is blood!" yelled Suk in outrage. "Why am I drinking blood? This is your fault, Tigon...and I want to know what you did to Cherri!" Tigon pulled the shillelagh from underneath the table and backed even further into the corner. "No, Tigon! Don't" yelped Lizbet. Too late, as Angelique returned with a vengence. "Aha! I knew your traitorous soul would reveal itself! You mean to slay me!" Tigon tried...really TRIED...to become one with the wall. Lizbet narrowed her eyes and said, "As long as you're here, Angelique, I want to have a word with you regarding a certain platnum card..." The psuedo vampire shifted her gaze to the merc, "You are simply jealous because I have Methos and you do not." Rosemund laughed gaily, "I did not see you dallying with him last night...whilst I..." That's when the fight began in earnest as Tigon, trapped in the corner, devoutly wished that anyone, even Cherri, would come and rescue her. ********************************************************************* YOU DON'T KNOW HOW IT FEELS (01/01) by Bonnie Pardoe (Vaquero), with special thanks to Cousin Erik LeBeau for the roses! (follows "By Any Other Name") Sunday, August 4, 3 pm Vachon's Church ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Nancy came dashing into the church with a broom-wheeling Jerimi right on her heals. Nancy was carrying a long, white box tied with a huge, red-satin ribbon. "Look what was just delivered!" The handful of Vaqueros present gathered around. "Who sent them?" "Who are they for?" "Open it." "Open it!" "They were delivered by an RDM messenger," Nancy said in a suspicious, hushed voice. "Mercs!" the Vaqueros mumbled and nodded to each other. The Vaqueros didn't trust the Mercs. Too many things had happened, too many things had gone wrong. There were too many reasons for the Vaqueros not to let their guard down. Jay took the box from Nancy and carefully removed the lid of the box to reveal twelve white roses. "We better check for bugs." "They may be Mercenaries, but I doubt they'd sell flowers infested with aphids," Charlyne said trying to keep a straight face. Jay rolled his eyes. "Not those kind of bugs. Listening devices!" Charlyne laughed. "I *know*. I was just kidding. Sheesh," she said still grinning. "Well?" Jay held out the box to the other Vaqueros. Each grabbed a few roses and began checking them for anything suspicious. As each rose passed inspection, it was tossed aside. Jay even checked the box and the tissue-paper lining. Bonnie entered the room during the proceedings to see roses strewn everywhere. Being a botanist at heart, she was loathed to see beautiful flowers treated so carelessly. "Hey! What are you doing?" Bonnie kneeled down and started gathering up the discarded blossoms. "RDM delivered them! We thought there might have been a hidden listening device or something." "Don't be ridiculous. The Mercs wouldn't jeopardize the integrity of their new business by doing something as stupid as that." \\Besides, they're not that bad,\\ Bonnie thought to herself. \\The Mercs are responsible for Vachon now having a reliable supply of blood.\\ Though, none of the other Vaqueros knew this fact. "Who are the flowers for anyway?" "Um..., you," Nancy said, a bit embarrassed now by their previous actions. Bonnie simply sighed and continued to gather up the flowers. The delightful, heady scent of the Bulgarian roses was quickly affecting her like a drug. "There's a card," Nancy offered it to Bonnie, but she did not take it. "Should I read it?" When Bonnie nodded distractedly, Nancy took the card out of the small envelope. "Hey, it looks like something Nick would write to Natalie! Listen: "To Bonnie, a woman whose goodness and purity outshines the sun. --O.G." "O.G.?" Jerimi was shocked. "Hey! That's the guy who bombed the church with silly string!" "You're not going to keep them are you?" Jay inquired. "Hmm...," was Bonnie's only response. Incredulously, the Vaqueros stared after the singer as she wandered off with her nose buried in the pure-white blooms. ********************************************************************* Deeply Dippy by Dianne la Mercenaire (Oh, o.k... maybe he _does_ have a sense of humor... but *I* think it's funnier when I make *him* look like an idiot-- I can still do it, you know!!! :-ppp) [Timeline: sometime in the otherwise-unoccupied afternoon of Sunday, August 4] [Thanks much to Pod for her NatPackerly suggestions!] Dianne was doing something she couldn't ever remember doing before. It was something so un-Merc-like, that she kept having a nagging feeling that it was somehow against the *spirit* of the Charter... if not the actual _letter_ of it (she'd checked carefully). The Grand High Poohbah of the Forever Knight Mercenary Guild was walking right up to the Wartime headquarters of another affiliation-- in broad daylight-- _and knocking on the front door_. Shaking off the persistent feeling that there was just something horribly, cosmically *wrong* with that, she headed up the front walk of the NatPackers' beachhouse. Her rage was too great to delay for camouflage or lighting conditions. "'Separated at Birth NatPacker' *indeed*!" She'd heard Maureen snickering about it at the play Saturday night and had gotten confirmation from her spies. "'Bounced', my *elbow*! I'll bounce *them* one!!!" she growled, her strides growing longer. Dianne was thrown-- ever-so-slightly-- when the door opened before she even reached it. This 'let them see you coming' approach took some serious getting used to. "Oh look! It's Dianne!" Jennie squealed, as Dianne winced. "Get our long-lost NatPacker some chocolate!" "OhmiGAWD!" Dee exclaimed, eyes opening so wide you'd have thought there was actually something behind them trying to see out. (You'd be wrong.) "What a, like, totally *bitchin'* beachhouse. I mean, this is like *so* totally cool!" Jennie stood there for a moment, slightly taken aback. I mean, it was one thing to pick up some NatPackerly enthusiasm, but this...? "Dianne...?" "Oh you can just, like, totally call me Dee," Dee interrupted happily, rushing right inside. "I mean, 'Di-anne' is so, like, _stuffy_, y'know? Oh like, fer shure! I mean, like, I'm _totally_ gonna make you call me that? As *IF*!" "I think 'separated at birth' may have been too late," Maureen muttered. "So is there, like, a _pool_?" Dee continued babbling without pause for breath. "I bet there's, like, a *bitchin'* mall around here too! I mean, I could, like, live here, like, ohmigawd!, I mean, like, _totally_, like, *forEVER*!" The Pack had all looked up from watching videos and reading fiction at each other to stare at the new-- and quite bizarre--intruder. At some point, even Dee noticed this. "Ohmigawd! I mean, like, *what's* the matter with you? Why are you, like, totally, just *staring* at me?" She actually looked at them for what appeared to be the first time and rolled her eyes as they landed on Jennie. "Ewwwwwww! Like, I mean, *how* grody can you get? I mean, like, like, you're all *orange*! Oh, like, *gag* me!" Turning, she saw Maureen picking lint off of her shoulder. "Oooooooh!" she squealed, causing The Mad One to wince in rather severe pain-- not that that interrupted her in her self-appointed task. "But I, like, *love* your hair! It's, like, so *totally* bitchin'!" She turned to the rest of the Pack. "Isn't that color just the, like, most, *excellent*, tubular thing you've ever, like, *seen*?" Hearing the snickers from the rest of the room, Maureen had to be forcibly restrained by Jennie. "Dianne, what is *wrong* with you?" If this was an attack, Jennie had to admit it was the most _bizarre_ one she'd ever seen. "Could it be LaCroix?" Mei whispered to Betsy, who had only just begun to calm down from the surprise of it all. "What *is* it with you and LaCroix all of a sudden?" she whispered back just as fiercely. "Well he *is* usually behind these things," Mei protested, her voice rising considerably with righteous indignation. "I bet he *still* hasn't forgiven you for that whole goldfish thing!" As Betsy countered that her involvement with Spike was long-past and others had been doing *much* worse things to him since-- A thermos, of all things!?!-- Dianne blinked several times and sat down on the floor, *hard*. "What the he...." She began, as she took in her surroundings. "You've *kidnapped* me?" she yelled, startling the entire room into silence. "First you try to 'adopt' me, and now you've *kidnapped* me?" she repeated, utterly outraged. "The Guild will come for me! You will *pay* for this!" she threatened, her voice rising even more. Then it dropped to an almost-whisper that was even more ominous. "If I've been *bounced*, I'll have all your heads!" With a furious lunge she dived for the unguarded door, almost fell by anticipating resistance that never appeared, and tore out into the late afternoon sunlight. Maureen shook her head. "Nuts." she concluded sagely. "A couple of coins shy of a full purse, that one," she clucked as she straightened out the throw rug. "Goes with the job, you know." ********************************************************************* Temparary Insanity, Round Two Chanda Keith Ravenette and Immortal Beloved the Raven Sunday August 4th Afternoon "Felicia, HEEELLPP!!! They're after me!!" Chanda cried as she came running into the club. "Who? the Nick and Natpackers?" Felicia said. "No!! Worse!! The *mosquitos*!! I thought I lost them at the Canadian border but they found me!!" Chanda moaned as she scratched at the bites that were rapidly appearing on her arms. "I just stepped out for a minute to try to calm down after what happened to the van and a giant swarm appeared out of nowhere and attacked me!!" "Not again!" Felicia muttered remembering what had happened the last time the mosquitos had attacked Chanda. "Tell me you have something besides that anti-histimine to use on them!" "Is there anyone in the bathtub?" "Yes." "In that case, there's nothing else I can use. Felicia, I'm going to take this and then go out to the van to sleep. it's a good thing the mechanic fixed it so fast. Will you keep an eye on me so that I don't get loose again?" "Sure." Felicia said as Chanda swallowed her medicine and headed for the van. A few minutes later, Felicia was heading outside to check on Chanda when she spotted the Natpackers' luggage scattered all over the back room. "I could use a good laugh." she said as she started to look through it. "Chanda will be okay for a few minutes longer." "Oh, birdies!" Chanda muttered to herself as she slowly woke up and stumbled out of the van. "Pretty birdies with nice long fangs! Now what was I supposed to be doing? Oh! Looking for Nicky!!" "Here, Nicky, Nicky, Nicky! Come out, Come out wherever you are!" She called as she hurried down the alleyway. "Chanda, are you awake?" Felicia whispered as she slid the van door open nearly a hour later. "NOOOO!!!" "Not again! She can't be having a reaction again!" Felicia muttered as she headed down the alley in search of her missing Immortal Beloved. I'm never going to explain this. Felicia thought as she came back into the club a little while later. Never ,never, never! One escape could be explained but two. Even worse, I can't find her this time. At least last time Lillian found her and brought her back. Maybe I can get some of the others to form a search party. We can't just leave her wandering around in the streets! What if the Nick and Natpack finds her? What is that scrapping noise? "CHANDA?!" Felicia cried as she hurried towards the noise and spotted her temperarily insane faction member trying to claw her way through Miklos' bedroom door. "Hi, Felicia." Chanda said. "Could you help me with this door? I wanna play with the vampire but he locked me out! No fair! Will you help me get in?" "Chanda, it's daytime." Felicia said as she pulled her into the club's main room and quickly tied her to a chair before she could escape again. "Vampires don't like to play during the daytime. Wait until tonight and then you can play with him. Where have you been?" "Looking for Nicky. I looked everywhere for that silly vampire but I couldn't find him." Chanda said as she squirmed in the chair. "I found a kitty though. A pretty black kitty with a white stripe on her back. I put her with the other kitties so they could play together." "What? Oh, no!" Felicia cried as she hurried away to see if Chanda's 'kitty' was what she thought it was. ******* "Felicia?" Chanda called a little while later. "Felicia, could you come and untie me please? This chair is really uncomfortable. Felicia?" "Are you sane again?" Felicia said as she came in. "As sane as I normally am anyway. Is something wrong?" Chanda said as Felicia started to undo the rope. "Is something wrong? Oh, nothing serious. Nothing except the skunk in the basement!" "Skunk? You mean I didn't hallucinate her? Great!" "A skunk in the basement is hardly what I would call great." "Don't worry. Fifi's a nice skunk. Besides, she's part of a brilliant plan. Come down to the basement and I'll tell you all about it." ********************************************************************* Payment Delayed By Elizabeth Ann Lewis August 4th, about 6 PM Merc Central, later, Nick's Loft Dianne handed Lizbet the letter that came from the Ravenettes. "This came while you were gone." Lizbet opened and read it. "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." "Terrific," Lizbet mumbled. "What do I do now? I didn't even know what the Knighties were planning when I locked all the Ravenettes in the cellar. Now I'm being dunned for damages!" "Send it on to your employer," Dianne advised. "Let them handle it." Accordingly, Lizbet dropped the letter into a new envelope and addressed it. Catherine Boone c/o Nick Knight 7 Curity Avenue/101 Calgary Toronto, Ontario, Canada Next day, at the loft.... "Mail's here!" somebody called. Most of it was for Nick, but one letter was addressed to Cath. Shrugging, the Knightie dropped the letter onto Cath's things... where it promptly was lost in the furious shuffle and never seen again. ********************************************************************* Maybe You Should Get a License For That Thing (1/1) By Mei Kwong, Linda Rose Pierce, Maureen Wynn, and K. S. Gritten, with the NatPack Time: Sunday early evening, August 4 Place: NatPack HQ (NOT the Hostel) Natalie slowly opened her eyes and immediately regretted it. Even though the lighting in the room was dim, it still hurt her eyes. For the past few weeks, she had drifted in and out of consciousness, slowly regaining her strength. "Hey, Nat," a voice said softly. "How are you feeling?" Her eyes began to focus, and she could make out two figures in the room, one stretched out in the chair next to her, the other standing at the foot of the bed. "Better, thanks Maureen," she addressed the woman furthest away who had spoken. She gave a sardonic smile. "Change of shift, huh?" Maureen smiled, and sketched a crisp salute at her. "Ready to serve, Cap'n." The woman who had been stretched out in the chair handed a glass of water to Natalie, then began checking her pulse and temperature. Nat eyed her critically for a moment, then said, "You look tired, GT." "Yeah, well, you're no treat yourself," the Aussie joked back. Natalie smiled fondly--she owed a lot to GT who, with Linda Rose, had so faithfully and expertly saved her life that night. That night.... She had talked about it with the NatPack, though at times it had only elicited ominous silence from her support group and caretakers. "Get out of here, GT," Maureen ordered, interrupting Nat's reverie. "It's my shift." "Give me a call if you need anything," GT responded, and Nat gave the woman's hand a grateful squeeze before she left. Maureen started to sit down in the chair GT had vacated, when she saw a glass of soda on the nightstand that the doctor had left behind. She got up again to place it neatly on the tray with the rest of Natalie's dinner dishes. She then started to drift around the room, straightening a picture on the wall and piling the magazines and books more neatly. She asked, looking at Nat lying with half closed eyes on the bed, "So, are you really feeling better?" Nat did a mental inventory, feeling the weakness from blood loss still pulling at her like a dull ache, her muscles limp from extended bed rest. Her neck still throbbing from-- "Actually," she said, "I am." She studied her companion for a moment. "Did you do something to your hair?" Maureen made a face. "It's a long story. The Mercs kidnapped me. That's why I missed my last shift." Nat frowned, trying to remember exactly when she had seen Maureen last. The weeks since That Night blended together in her memory: long hours of sleeping, recovering, talking to her NatPack companions about the past and the future. "The last I clearly remember is Sharon being here. She said something about chasing a salt smuggler, and seeing some guy dressed like the Phantom on the Internet." Nat shook her head, trying to clear it--this sounded even more bizarre than some of her dreams involving Nick and a very large feather. "We talked about Nick for a while." Nat sighed. "I said some things that I shouldn't have....." She trailed off as she watched Maureen neatly fold the blanket which had been lying rumpled on the bed, then start picking lint off of it. "Uh, Mo...I do remember asking you to clean up a little the last time you were here, but there's no need to get crazy." The words seemed to echo for a moment in the still room. Maureen looked at her blankly for a second. "Huh?" Nat shook her head over the--well, *vacant* was the only way to describe it--expression on her friend's face. "Don't get crazy," Maureen continued in a monotone voice. "Oh, nevermind." She sighed at Maureen's equally blank look in response. Enunciating each word, she said, "Go ahead. Clean all you want." Maureen smiled. "Clean all I want," she repeated. Then she blinked, and said in a more normal tone of voice, "So, do you want to play some cards?" ********************************************************************* The Exchange by Catherine Boone takes place Sunday, 9pm. The loft wasn't *quite* jam-packed for the moment.... some of the more hard-core Chinese take-out eaters had had just about enough of this home-cooked meal stuff, and had snuck out for some Grease'N'Rice(TM). The night was young, there wasn't any *really* pressing business for at least another six hours. Naturally, Catherine sat down to channel surf. Fortunately, Nick had managed to somehow set up his cable again, so it wasn't just a two-minute exercise. For hours she would sit, catching repeat after repeat of the "Best of American Bandstand" CD commercial, watching endless episodes of Scooby-Doo. (You mock me? You haven't *seen* my dorm when there's a Scooby-Doo marathon going.) Also fortunately, she didn't get very far before the doorbell rang. Two more minutes, and she probably would have been wearing the home- cooked meal of the day. (And do you know how much potatoes *stick*?) No, a very fortunate thing, indeed. Figuring the gang had come back from their calorie-fest, Catherine put down the remote (to the silent relief of those in the kitchen... they lowered their spoons), and opened the elevator with a smile, all ready to grab her food. "So, what did you bring me?" ...Only to find an earnest and determined young face, solemnly clutching one small, brown book. Catherine hesitated in surprise, and the little girl looked back at her mother, standing right behind her, hands on both her shoulders. "Tami?" Catherine smiled as she registered a) a familiar face, b) no other Ravenettes in the wings, and c) the fact that she brought Jessica at all a clear sign of a white flag. She looked back down at Jessica, her smile widening to include her. Green eyes remained locked on green eyes as she asked Jessica directly, "Why are you here?" "I have something I'd like to give Nick." She glanced back uncertainly to her mother, and back to Catherine. "If I could." Tami's gaze was steady, and she moved one hand to stroke her daughter's head protectively. Catherine got the message, and moved to let them into the loft. "Of course," she replied smoothly, "I'll get him." Her eyes twinkled a little too brightly as she shut them tight and shouted at the top of her lungs. "NICK!" She smiled brightly at the two now staring at her, as Nick emerged from the bedroom, wincing. "You rang?" She merely crooked her finger at him and motioned quickly, before he simply took off, that he should take the stairs. Tami looked cautious now, having Nick go from twenty feet away from Jessica to two feet away from her in the span of an instant might be a little hair- raising. While Nick made his way to them, Catherine turned back to their guests. She noticed Jessica looking at a blank easel in a corner of the room, stacked next to a multitude of paint cans. Catherine unexpectedly plopped down on the floor next to Jessica. The sudden change from this stranger going from being taller than Mommy to shorter than her made her blink. "Do you like to paint, Jessica?" Jessica gave her a brilliant smile, and nodded eagerly, obviously a favorite subject. "What do you like to draw best?" "People," was the firm reply. Catherine smiled. "I always liked drawing horses, myself. Except I could never quite get their legs right..." She started motioning with her hands, then noticed another pair of feet. She craned her neck back. "Hi, Nick. This is Jessica. She has something for you." Catherine got up and took a step back as Jessica stepped forward. "I think this belongs to you." She held out the book, still clutched in her hands. "I found it in a vent in the Raven. It's full of numbers and stuff, and it's brown, so when I heard you lost your book..." her voice trailed off, and she finished softly, "I thought you might want it back." Nick took it gently, and smiled. "Thank you." He straightened, and absently started flipping through it, and when he got to the end... he looked back at Jessica, surprised. "Are these yours?" Jessica's eyes widened in fear of his response, but he unexpectedly grew a big grin, and crouched down next to her. The book was opened to a page containing a pencil drawing of Janette. "It's very good. It looks just like her." An idea struck him. (Well, the nudge from Catherine helped.) "Would you like a big easel to paint on?" Jessica wore a look of awed joy. "Can I?" She turned again to her mother for permission. Tami nodded, and she turned back. "But I don't have any paint..." Nick grinned. "I think I can do something about that." Soon Tami was carrying a box filled with the blank easel and as many paint cans as she could carry. She smiled gratefully at Nick, then to her daughter said, "I think we better be going, honey. It's getting late." "Okay." Before her mother could protest, Jessica threw her arms around Nick and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "Thank you for the paint, Nick." "You're welcome." He gave her a little hug back, and sent her off with her mother. The elevator closed behind them, and he turned back to the room. To see every pair of Knightie eyes welling with tears. He sighed. "All right, get it over with." There was a deafening "Awwwww!" and the Knighties went smiling back to whatever they were doing. Catherine chuckled. "Ya gotta admit, Nick, that was pretty terminally cute." "Oh, stop it." But he was smiling from ear to ear. "I'm going back to bed." "Goodnight." "'Night, Nick," the room choroused. The bedroom door closed, and Catherine went to pick up the remote again, but it was snatched out of her hands. "Not *even*, girlie." "Awww..." ********************************************************************* A Perky Ally by Perri Smith & Partly Sunday, 8/4 10 pm The Happy Souvlaki Deli Partly waited at one of the window tables, enjoying a huge gyro and swigging caffiene as quickly as she could -- it had been that kind of a war. She stuck her tongue out to catch a drip of sauce, then caught sight of Perri standing in the door. She was alone. "I expected a whole crusade," Partly said as Perri took a seat after ordering from Pam, at the counter. Perri grinned. "They're busy sleeping -- and shoring up the defenses around the loft -- we seem to have gotten a few people upset with us." "I heard. A nursery?" The grin turned smug. "Yup." Partly laughed into her coke. "I also hear you've chasing all over Toronto looking for some book." Perri made a face. "I'm surprised the whole city doesn't know about that book." Partly considered. "I think they do. Anyway, one of my Perks got this from the police station. It was in evidence. Here." She passed the leather-bound book over the table; Perri seized it and started flipping eagerly through the pages. She stopped after only one or two. "This is Sanskrit." "Is it?" Partly took another bite out of her gyro. "I was wondering." "This can't be Nick's, then -- he doesn't read Sanskrit. He couldn't read the Abaratt because of that, and after it was destroyed, he never learned." Partly motioned to the book. "There seem to be a lot of those floating around. Cousin Lisa was after one at the ROM opening." "Yeah. And only a few of them belong to Nick." She paused. "Anyway, I can't tell you how much I appareciate your help with this -- the stupid book is driving us all crazy." "I bet." PArtly finished her sandwich. "If I hear anything else, I'll let you know." "Then we'll owe you another favor," Perri said as her souvlaki arrived. "By the way," she added, piling into her souvlaki, "did you hear Vachon is alive?" Partly nodded. "I heard that." She paused, as if deciding something. "Listen, you said that you owe me one. How about if I collect that now." Perri set her fork down. She hadn't expected this. "What did you have in mind." "I'd like to talk to Nick." "I not sure if that's a good idea..." Perri wondered what Partly was up to. "Alright, then just ask him a question." Party looked around, as if checking to see who may be listening. "Ask him if he's sure Tracy died." "What?" Perri stared at the Perkulator. "Ask him if he sure she dead. If he's sure she couldn't have been revived or," she lowered her voice more, "brought across." "You not serious." "Just ask him." Partly stood quickly, dropping several loonies on the table. "I'll be at the Four Seasons." Perri watched her leave, food forgotten on the table. ********************************************************************* The Museum and A Payment By: Laura Ruggiero (Die-Hard) Where: Die-Hard HQ When: Sunday , August 4, 1996, Sometime after the HL party breaks up, but before sunset. A car pulled up to the gate of the Die-Hard HQ. It contained two very tired women. The passenger leaned over and said, "Hi George, I'm finally back. I see the place is still intact." "Welcome back Ms. Ruggiero, is this another Die-Hard?" "No, just a friend giving me a lift back, she won't be here long." George waved them though. Laura directed Lizbet to the proper building. "I have to say, yesterday was a lot of fun, well worth the cost." Laura used a special key-card to open the door and turned on the lights. "I didn't get a chance to do anything about telling all the Die-Hards about this place before I had to leave, so you are the first to see it." There were 2 large signs propped up against the wall, they read : __________________________________________ | | | The Forever Knight Museum | | Enter Here | |________________________________________| ________________________________________ | | | Forever Knight | | Never Forget | |________________________________________| "This was all supposed to be done by now, but I still hope to hold the grand opening this week, " Laura said. As they passed though the entry way into the main part of the museum. The wall were covered with photograghs and video monitors. Several display cases were placed about the large room. Many had objects in them. Upon closer inspection Lizbet realized the objects were all props, like the photgraphs all were from or about Forever Knight. "The main video storage room is in the far back." They passed though several more rooms, each with a theme, for each actor, for each season, even a room with several computers hooked up to the internet (with all the FK sites bookmarked, of course). There were also several small rooms for watching videos. Lizbet was impressed, there was so much to see here, to drool over. Laura used her second key-card to open the door. It was marked "Storage Room, Authorized Personal Only". They entered a climate controlled room filled floor to ceiling with video tapes, photographic negatives, and the like. Laura walked over to the computer sitting on table near the door and turned it on. "Which scene were you looking for again," Laura asked? Lizbet told her, and within a few minutes Lizbet had a copy of the scene in question. "That should conclude our busniess. Mind if I look around for awhile?" Lizbet asked. "No problem," Laura said wondering momentarily if she should tell her friend not to "borrow" anything. "I have to take care of some paperwork, just come to the office when your done." Laura almost fell asleep while dealing with the pile of papers on the front desk. A weeks absence during a war a shortly before this place was to open had left her with a lot to do. After awhile Lizbet arrived at the office. Locking up, they left the museum. Lizbet returned to the car and returned to her other merc duties. Laura yawning repeatedly, walked over to the building the Die-Hards were using. Letting herself in, she was surprised to see Ron awake and looking rather odd. *so much for sleep,* she thought. "Hi everyone, I'm back, what happened while I was gone?" she said. ********************************************************************* Sleep? Sleep is for Wimps! by: Ron the Enforcer, Die-Hard Place: Die-Hard HQ When: Sunday, August 4, 1996 immediately after "The Museum and a Payment" posting by our illustrious leader.... snipped from Laura's post... >Laura yawned repeatedly, walked over to the building the Die-Hards >were using. Letting herself in, she was surprised to see Ron awake >and looking rather odd. "So much for sleep," She thought. "Hi, >everyone, I'm back! What happened while I was gone?" Ron gave the Die-Hard Leader ableary-eyed look. "Sleep?" he said. "Sleep is for wimps....healthy, well-rested wimps, but wimps nonetheless..." "Ron?" Laura queried puzzled. "He hasn't slept since you left," Chuck explained. "He's been translating this book he swiped from Cousin Candice. It was in Sanskrit....right?" Ron nodded and Chuck continued, "And, well, it turns out that the book wasn't Nick's book." "Yeah, he wasted his time translating garbage," Don stated. "And the Mercs stole our socks!" Toby put in. "The Mercs stole everyone's socks," Donna explained. "We weren't singled out. But they somehow got one of our extra keycards. R+That was how they got in to do it..." "How did they get past Ron?" Moire wondered. "Ron wasn't here all the time," Kritine said. "They probably stole the key when he was at the Brabant Exhibit or out trying to score points with a certain Cousin..." "Hey!" Ron managed to complain through his exhaustion. "Cousin Candice is a babe. Besides, it was kinda interesting experiencing certain sensations while under the influence of sleep inhibiting chemical compounds..." "Compounds that look like they are wearing off fast!" Bruce noticed catching the Enforcer before he fell down face forward on the floor. As he plopped the unconsious vampire onto the sofa, Bruce commented, "He's light for a guy." "Light headed more like," cracked Donna. "Do you think he'll wake up in time for the Forever Knight Museum grand opening?" wondered Nancy. "We'll wake him up!" Toby stated. "He can drink coffee. I saw him drinking it all weekend." "Cut or uncut?" queried Don. Toby shrugged and Moira guessed,"Probably mixed. Bet that combo tastes yucky." Laura looked over at her unconscious co-leader thoughtfully. "We'll let him take a break for now. I know he's going to want to come to the grand opening. We'll wake him up in time for that. Sooner if there are any emergencies requiring his, um, special talents..." ********************************************************************* Well I know what happened to the socks by: Laura Ruggiero Place: Die-Hard HQ When : Sunday Aug. 4 immediately after "Sleep? Sleep is for Wimps!" "Poor Ron, one of you should have told me what he was doing," Laura said. "I wonder if we should rig up something to feed him intravenously?" "At least I know what happened to the socks. It was great. I was at a highlander party with Lizbet last night. Lizbet and Tigon put all the socks into a huge cow pinata. Cherri, now out of the cow suit, whacked the thing with the "Shillelagh-of-great-pain," and all the socks came tumbling out. Think of the scene from 'Trouble with Tribbles' when Kirk opened the storage compartment, only Cherri was completely buried. I wish I had remembered my camera." "Well, I haven't haven't had any slept since friday. I'm going bed now too. Then we have a party to plan." ********************************************************************* Chrome Stallion by: Jay Diemert, Vaquero (and encouraged by Charlyne Walker, thanks) August 4 and 5 , 11:00 p.m. to 3:00 a.m. Setting: The Church and The Roman Horse Pub ************************************************************ Jay looked at the chaos that was taking place in the church. Heather and Hilary were having a contest to see which one of the them could toss Milk Duds (tm) higher and still catch them in their mouth. The blaster was pounding out " Shook Me All Night Long" by AC-DC. Some of the others were having air band duels off to the right. He couldn't explain it, but he just didn't feel like hanging around the "party" tonight. He got up from his sleeping bag bed and made his way down to the basement to see what Charlyne was doing in the computer room. When he walked in he found Charlyne sitting in the middle of the floor surrounded by wires and computer components. "What ya up to?" asked Jay "Ahhhh. ... Oh Jay I didn't hear you come down!" Looking down at his beat up dirty boots, Jay smiled and said sarcastically, " Ya I'm light on my feet!" "I am trying to figure out why this I.O. riser has crated in this unit. I have ripped just about everything out of the box and still haven't found the problem. I am testing the power supply now. Want to help?" "Na, I can't take the noise tonight. I think that I am going to skate for a few hours. Want to come?" "No, if I don't keep at this and get it back up and running soon I will never finish it. Procrastination, the eighth deadly sin!" " 'Kay, check ya later. Do ya want anything?" "No, thanks anyway." Jay moved down the dark hallway. He reached the heavy wooden door and raised his hand to knock. It was as if he knocked too loud he would wake a dragon. Gently he struck the door and waited for the voice within. In some ways he was hoping that the voice would not be there. "Ya who is it?" Vachon's unmistakable voice could be heard. "Ah it is Ratb ...... ah Jay!" Jay cringed at the sound of his own name. "What do ya want?" "I ... would like to talk to you for a minute if I could." There was silence for a short time and then Vachon answered. "Ya come in." Jay slowly opened the door not knowing what he would find. There was Vachon sitting on the bed with a small lamp on reading a paperback novel. Jay moved slowly into the room and stood before him. "Oh it is you! I don't even know the people living in my own home. I thought that it was one of the women. Don't get me wrong I like having young women around my place, but not all the time." " I hear ya. That is why I came by. I have to get out of this place. They are a fun bunch, but I am feeling cooped up here. Is there a chance that I could borrow your scooter? I know that it is a lot to ask of a guy, but you did offer." "You ride?" "Ya I have a Shadow 1100 back home. It is nice, but nothing like yours." "Where ya from?" "Alberta, Lethbridge actually." "Ever ride through the mountains? "Ya, but I am a prairie boy and I like the flat ground for cruising." With that Vachon threw Jay the keys and said, "Watch it when you first start it up. It is idling rough and has a tendency to stall." Jay got up and went to leave. "I know that a lot of these women are here because they think that your guy who has it going on. I'll help out where I can, but I am here for my own reasons." "Thanks, I appreciate knowing where I stand and who I can count on." said Vachon with a voice that reminded Jay of dark red wine pouring out of a dusty bottle into a crystal glass. "I'll back your play. I came because Charlyne told me about you and what you stood for and I thought that I would like to meet you. I came here to get away from the scene and clear my head. Thanks for the ride!" Jay turned to the open door. "Any time Amigo. Keep the faith." With that Jay mounted the old wooden steps two at a time. On his way through the church he found that the scene had not changed all that much since he left. He went over to his stuff and pulled out a pair of black chaps and a pair of black leather gloves. Last he pulled on his weather beaten leather jacket. He dug around in his bag for his soup bowl and got up to go. Always be ready for anything. It must have been the boy scout in him. "I am going out. Anyone want anything? Heather and Hilary said at the same time, "More Duds!!" Jay made his way to the front door and found Jill standing watch. "Any movement?" Jay asked just making conversation. He pushed out the door and down the steps. The geese started to honk at him and one or two tried to bite him. The leather chaps held them back. He felt like punting on of the fat stinky birds, but he knew that there would be hell to pay when he returned. Jay climbed aboard the Triumph and for a moment just took it all in. There are a few bikes in the world that demand respect, just due to age and style, this was one of them. Another was the Harley Davidson Heritage Soft-tail, that he had always wanted but never had the $29 000. He remembered what Vachon had told him about the way that the bike started. He gave it a little extra juice before pushing the electric start. The bike jumped to life under him as if it knew it was going for a run. Jay put on his soup bowl helmet and fastened it down. He put up the stand and pulled in the clutch. He brought up his toe and popped it into gear. Then there was nothing left but to add power. The combination of man and machine tore off into the night. Jay drove around for about a half an hour just looking at the lights of Toronto. Then he remembered that his brother's best friend lived in Toronto. He had no idea where Dean lived or if he could even get a hold of him, but it was worth a try. He pulled the bike over by a phone booth and parked it while he went inside to search the phone book. Not knowing where to begin. He decided to call the police and see if they could help him. Dean was a detective with the Toronto Metro Police Department. The Desk Sergeant didn't know him, but transferred him to another station. There they knew who Dean Burks was, but he was out on a call. Jay left his cell number and got back on the bike. There was a gas station just down the street so he pulled in to fill up and get the "Milk Duds". He asked the kid behind the counter if he knew of a place where he could get a drink. He was directed to this little pub in a strip mall about four blocks east. He found the Roman Horse Pub and parked the bike where he would be able to see it out the front windows of the bar. As he turned off the bike he noticed a small group of people going into a coffee shop called "Cup'o'chino". He probably would not have noticed them at all if they had not been staring at him like they were. Jay didn't know them and he didn't know what they wanted so he waved and got off the bike. He removed the black soup bowl and pushed back his long dark hair. Helmets save lives, but they do nothing for your hair. He turned his back on the group that stood watching him and went inside. He sat down at the table by the window so he could watch Vachon's bike. After what had happened to it, he didn't want to take any chances. His beer arrived and with that his phone rang. It was Dean, the dispatcher had passed on his message. Dean said that he knew the pub that Jay was at and that he would join him there. It was only about another beer later and Dean was there. They talked about old times and new ones. Then Dean wanted to know why Jay was in Toronto. "I am staying with some friends. We are helping out this guy we know. He lent me the bike." "What kind of help. You used to be quite the hell raiser." "Well he is looking for his girl friend." "She missing and she was a cop! Detective Tracy Vetter, ring any bells?" "Commisioner Vetter's daughter! No way, no way Rat, your not getting me into that one!" "I just want to know that if we need your help that we can call on you." "I could get into it deep. I could lose my job. It took too long to make detective." "Dean remember when your dirt bike flipped on you and I pulled it off even though the cops were coming. Do you remember how I talked us out of that one?" "Not fair Rat, not the same thing. Not the same at all." It was quite for a moment while Dean stared at his beer. Those were shining times weren't they?" Dean had a grin on his face from ear to ear as they relived their childhood. "Then I can count on you?" "Ya, your brother would not let me forget it, if I didn't help you. What do you need." "I don't need anything yet, but if things get deep I may need you to help." They finished their drinks and left. Jay got back on the bike and headed back to the church. ********************************************************************* End War 7 File 7 *********************************************************************