*********************************************************************
                            War 7 File 8
*********************************************************************

The Fix Is In
By: Patrick McLaughlin
When: 2 am to 4 am Monday morning.
Where: Current Twin foxhole.

(P.S. I hear that AOL crashed this morning, and is down...)




Pat closed the door and leaned against it for a moment before locking
it and removing his latest disguise.  Stepping back from the door he
switched the crude, but effective security system on, and sniffed for
the faint scent of ozone by the hidden transformer before moving on.

"Thomas?" he queried, wondering if the prankster was out and up to
trouble already.

The silence was a good presumptive answer.  Someone was going to be
furious in a while....

Settling down in the overstuffed Victorian chair, Pat took the
opportunity for a nap.  Multiple time zone changes and jet lag
demanded _some_ acknowledgement, even if he appeared to be the entire
cadre of Thomas' supporters present.

...

A gentle cough woke him.  Thomas was standing in the doorway, grinning
diabolically.

Pat peeled one eye open, and then the other, before asking "Should I
ask?"

As he struggled out of the chair and turned on the espresso machine,
fumbling with things while the sleep fog cleared, Thomas settled into
the chair and sighed.

"Well, Patrick, the brown books will arrive shortly.  The donations to
several universities with ancient and medieval scholars a month ago
was a clever stroke--they've got all sorts of strange combinations of
languages, dialects and coded materials in those books, and anyone who
finds them will have a devil of a time unravelling them.  And the temp
agencies appear to hear so many bizarre requests they didn't blink
once I assured them that no one would be asked to do anything
illegal."

Pat glanced back at him suspiciously.

Thomas smiled.

Rolling his eyes, Pat flicked on the milk steamer, obliterating
conversation for a moment.  A few seconds later, he settled down to
extract the rest of Thomas' caper, knowing that the update on the
brown books was a distraction.

The litany of minor harassments was indeed impressive.  Among other
things, the Natpackers were scheduled for a random-appearing sequence
of deliveries ranging from COD pizzas to roses for each of them--from
Nick--and the Knighties were being given a series of leads on sure-
fire cures.

"Offending everyone, Thomas?" Pat asked.

"Not _everyone_, Patrick." Thomas' eyes lidded for an instant, perhaps
in regret.  "I made an agreement with Lucien when we left that bar.
He agreed to keep the Cousins leashed; even that one... Karies... that
thinks I pulled the wings off of Nicholas." He cocked his head
slightly before continuing, "So don't do anything that would be
construed as a violation of our armistice."

Pat nodded.  "So, how long do we stay here?  What's next on your
schedule of musical HQs?"

"We pull out of here tonight," said Thomas.  "We've been laying low,
preparing things, but after tonight, and then the appearance of scores
of books, it seems wisest to move on."  He paused.  "Did you get ahold
of your friend?"

Pat looked blank for an instant, trying to figure out _which_ friend
Thomas was referring to. "Ah, yes," he said, as the last of the fog
cleared.  "He says that it's not hard at all, it's keeping a system up
and running that's hard, so making one crash is a snap.  Your offer
was sufficient, even for his cupidity."

Thomas smiled. "I do so love such people..."

"Kindred spirits," Pat sneered, and then smiled.

Thomas attempted to look offended, then laughed. "Everyone has a
price, Patrick.  It's just a question of what they want to buy, and
what coin they care for."

He stood and stretched as a knock came at the door.

"Ah, how timely," he smirked. "Come, if Toronto's net connections are
all going to collapse shortly," we should be gone.  And unless I miss
my guess, that's the books, and even with the hired help, we're going
to be busy installing them in places around the various affiliation
HQs, bookstores...."

They headed for the door.

As Thomas switched off the security system, Pat commented, "You know,
Thomas, if someone were to call various people at the different HQs,
saying that they'd found a small book..."

Thomas glanced back. "That's inspired.  Someone could call, asking for
Nicholas, having 'found' the book and wanting to return it.  Someone
else could be called because their name was in it and it wasn't clear
who it belonged to, could they help in returning it....  I like it.
I'll put someone on it."

He opened the door and greeted the courier.  "Ah, we've been waiting
for you."  He looked past the man at the small van on the street.
"That's our shipment?"  The man nodded; "Just sign here," he
requested.

"You wouldn't mind driving a couple more blocks, would you?" Thomas
asked.  I have the people who they're being distributed to waiting at
another address."  The faint hint of hesitation at this request
vanished as the fellow pocketed Thomas' 'offering', and a moment
later, Thomas was on his way.

He stuck his head out the window as the van pulled away. "Meet me at
four, Patrick.  You know where," he called.


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


Ghost of a Chance (1/4)
by Amparo Bertram (NatPack) and Betsy Vera (NatPack/Cohen-head)

Time: 2am
Place: NatPack Hostel
Day: Monday, 8/5/96

Betsy yawned as the tag faded to black and the credits began to roll.
Watching videos with the NatPack was fun, but she was beat. By the
time she would be able to hunt down her pillow and sleeping bag, she
would be more than ready to fall instantly aslee--what was that?

She whipped her head around to find the source of the motion that had
caught her eye. Nothing. Just one of the flickering candles that
seemed to crop up everywhere around the house. It must have been a
shadow.

She had been seeing far too many shadows lately. The others thought
she was simply jumpy, or paranoid because of the War, but she would
swear that someone had been following her and trying to attract her
attention, then vanishing at the last moment.

She sighed and gathered up her things, carrying them into another room
where she could escape the noise from the VCR. Out of habit she
checked all the corners to be sure nothing lurked in hiding. The only
other occupant was Amparo, who sat against the wall, polishing her
whip by the light spilling through the doorway and quietly humming
"Nobody's Side."

Betsy sank down gratefully, ready to close her eyes and let the world
fade around her.

"Betsy..."

She jerked awake at the unexpected whisper. "Mmm?" she mumbled,
unwilling to stir herself right as she had gotten comfortable.

"Betsy, wake up!" The voice didn't rise in volume, but the note of
command in it rang clear.

"What time is it?" she groaned irritably.

"Two o'clock. Time to move."

Betsy finally gave in and sat up. She could see little in the darkness
save Pod's dim form. "What are you talking about?"

The other NatPacker replied, "Oops, sorry if the song bothered you. I
can stop if you like."

Betsy shook her head, deciding she hadn't been as lucid as she had
thought, misinterpreting the sound as words. She began to lie back
down.

"Vera. Outside. Now."

Betsy snapped to her feet before the order even registered in her
conscious mind, then became tangled in her sleeping bag and teetered
precariously, waving her arms wildly for balance. The voice had barked
directly in her ear, yet she could neither see nor feel anyone in the
vicinity. "Who are you?" she demanded. "*Where* are you? What do you
want?"

Over against the wall, Amparo jumped up. "Betsy, are you all right?"

Betsy kicked off the mess of the sleeping bag and staggered over to
the whip wielding girl. "There's someone here," she announced.

Amparo reached out and flipped on the light, revealing a room empty
except for the two of them. "No one here. You must have been
dreaming."

Betsy froze. She pointed. She tried to speak, but it took several
attempts to get her mouth working. Standing between the two
NatPackers, so translucent as to be barely visible, Captain Amanda
Cohen stared accusingly at her.

"Y--you--you're--" Betsy sputtered.

"Running out of time," Cohen finished for her.

"This is not happening. This is *not* happening." Betsy ignored
Amparo's bewildered expression and quickly burrowed back into her
sleeping bag.

"Oh, no you don't," Cohen declared. "I've been trying to get ahold of
you for weeks; you're not ducking out on me now."

"It's just a bad dream," Betsy repeated to herself several times. "I
did not see a dead police captain. She is not talking to me. I stayed
up too late watching videos, that's all."

"Dammit, Vera, I don't have much longer," the voice went on,
regardless. "You have to help me see my daughter."

Betsy poked her head out of the sleeping bag. Rather than vanishing,
the apparition had gotten stronger. Pod had disappeared, though
whether she was going for help or looking for peace and quiet was
unknown. "Your daughter?" she managed, her brain functioning enough to
pick out that tidbit.

Cohen nodded. "Evelyn. I haven't seen her since...the plane. I have to
know that she's all right. If not, I'm doomed to this pale existence
forever."

Betsy couldn't help but be moved by the captain's plight, but there
remained one matter of utmost importance. "Why me?"

"You're the only one who can see me." Cohen shrugged. "I get this
feeling when I'm around you, like I belong with you. I can't explain
it."

It took a few long moments--she had sided with the NatPack for a
considerable amount of time--but Betsy finally remembered she was
*also* the Cohen-head faction leader. "But you're a ghost," she
protested weakly. "How can I..." She trailed off, another dim memory
floating to the surface. Large, beautiful eyes stared into her own.
"...Ghosts..." she chanted blankly.

Cohen snapped her fingers, bringing the NatPacker out of it. "You have
to take me to see my daughter," she said, more a request than an order
this time.

Betsy rubbed her eyes. "It's two in the morning! I'm too tired to
drive, even if Kelly would lend me her car. Can't it wait until I've
gotten some sleep?"

"I don't know how long even you will be able to interact with me. It
has to be now, before I fade away again. Besides, you can call a cab."

Betsy looked at the ghost of the proud captain, realizing that Cohen
would wind up in a state of neglect even worse than the one she had
suffered while still alive. What was a little lost sleep, compared to
eternal obscurity? Resigned, she crawled back out of the sleeping bag.
"Let me throw on some clothes. Toronto, beware!"


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


Ghost of a Chance (2/4)
by Amparo Bertram (NatPack) and Betsy Vera (NatPack/Cohen-head)

Time: 3am
Place: Toronto
Day: Monday, 8/5/96

Betsy slumped on the stairs of the apartment building. "Well, I
tried," she told her personal specter. "They must have moved sometime
since...you know."

Cohen didn't appear discouraged that her first idea hadn't panned out.
"Then we'll track them down at their new location."

"This is hopeless," Betsy moaned, wanting nothing more than to be back
at the Hostel where she belonged. Asleep. "For all we know, your ex-
husband may have taken Evelyn to L.A. or somewhere equally distant. I
am *not* leaving this city, not with all that's going on. He's not in
the phone book--we double checked, remember?--and I don't have much
else in the way of resources."

"We can't give up," Cohen maintained. "I'm sure my people at the
precinct could--"

"You're a ghost!" Betsy exclaimed in exasperation. "What am I supposed
to do, tell them the truth? They'd send me to a funny farm...though
that's probably where I belong for agreeing to this."

"Could you hire help?"

"Private detective? Mercenary?" She shook her head. "That would take
too long to arrange, and besides, I didn't bring much money with me on
this little excursion, not to mention other forms of payment."

"There must be another source of information."

"Oh, sure, I could trot over to the Raven and ask Janette. That's what
Nick always did," she grumbled.

"It's worth a try."

Betsy stared at the captain. "First of all, I can't believe you took
me seriously. Second, I'm not dressed for the Raven. Third, I really
don't need to hold a conversation with thin air in front of that many
people *who know me*."

"People who know us..." Cohen repeated thoughtfully. "You know, my
husband liked to eat out. He had a favorite place, a little deli with
the most amazing selection of food. If we were to go there, someone
might be able to tell us where he is now."

"Deli?" Betsy blinked. She couldn't mean... But, of course, this was
Wartime. The Happy Souvlaki, where else? "I think I know the place
you're talking about. They're used to serving the night shift, so
they're probably still open."

"Shall we locate a phone to call another cab?"

Betsy thought of the look the first cab driver had given her. He had
taken off as soon as possible, barely waiting for the fare to leave
her hands before screeching away at full speed. "I'll walk, thanks."

The two of them made their way through the streets of Toronto, Cohen
telling the NatPacker all about her daughter. It wasn't until they had
been walking for nearly half an hour that Betsy realized, in her
distracted state, she had gotten completely lost. She stopped, the
ghost stopping with her. "Where are we?"

The captain examined her surroundings. "I'm...not sure. Things tend to
get fuzzy the farther away from you they are, so I haven't been paying
much attention. I thought you knew where you were going."

"I do! I mean," Betsy clarified, "I know our *destination*. I don't
exactly know how to get there."

Cohen crossed her arms and focused one of her patented Disapproving
Frowns on her faction leader. "Then ask someone."

"Who?" Betsy wasn't sure she wanted to walk up to a total stranger on
a dark street in the middle of the night, even in Toronto. Not with a
NatPacker's luck, not without heavy backup.

"What about him?" Cohen indicated a man leaning casually against a
nearby streetlight.

There was something hauntingly familiar about him, but Betsy couldn't
put her finger on it. She also couldn't figure out why there seemed to
be something odd about the light around him, but she blamed that on
her exhaustion. "All right," she acceeded. She approached the man and
addressed him carefully, "Excuse me?"

He turned to face her, and her heart fairly doubled its pace. "Yes?"

"Richard?" she gasped. Natalie's brother, brought across by Nick
during first season and promptly destroyed when he couldn't control
his hunger. It sank in that the light appeared strange because it
passed right through him, leaving no shadow. Another ghost.

The vampire/ghost smiled at her, no fangs in sight. "You're one of
Nat's friends, aren't you? I've seen you with her. I want to thank you
for taking such good care of her."

"I--I--" Betsy stammered. Two ghosts in as many hours. "Don't eat me!"
she squealed, overwhelmed.

Richard shook his head. "I couldn't, even if I wanted to. I'm dead,
remember? *Really* dead, this time. I'm here to help." He paused. "To
repay, as it were. So, what can I do for you?"

Betsy swallowed her fright. "I have to find the Happy Souvlaki Deli.
Can you show me the way?"

"Just follow me." He bowed to the two women. "I'll get you there safe
and sound. I promise."


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


Ghost of a Chance (3/4)
by Amparo Bertram (NatPack) and Betsy Vera (NatPack/Cohen-head)

Time: 4am
Place: Happy Souvlaki Deli
Day: Monday, 8/5/96

Betsy thanked Richard profusely when they arrived at last at the
entrance of the deli. With a nod of his head, he rose into the air and
flew off, fading from sight--literally. The NatPacker breathed a sigh
of relief and pushed through the doors.

Cheery lights and delicious aromas greeted her entrance. The place
didn't host many this early in the morning, but a few people occupied
scattered seats. Betsy staggered to the counter and ordered some
caffeine, in whatever form seemed most handy. She didn't recognize the
person serving her, but when her Coke arrived she asked about Cohen's
ex-husband anyway. Unfortunately, the young man hadn't seen him.

"Now what?" she asked when he had moved out of earshot. She gulped her
soft drink gratefully. "We could wait around here, see if maybe
someone on a more reasonable shift will know him."

"I might not have that long," Cohen reminded her.

"Captain?" came an unexpected voice. "Captain, is that you?"

Betsy spun around, nearly knocking over her cup. Standing there, large
as life--though not as substantial--was Detective Donald Schanke.

Cohen welcomed him with one of her rare smiles. "Nice to see you
again, Detective. What brings you here?"

"Just looking for some friends," the ghost replied. "I felt the tug of
a lot of people thinking about me in one place, and I remember the
last time that happened. I thought I'd stop by and say hello, but no
one can see or hear me." He sat on the stool next to Betsy, though the
seat showed no sign of his weight. "What's worse, I can't eat the
food. How about yourself?"

"I'm searching for my daughter, Evelyn. She's living with her father,
but I don't know where. I was hoping someone here could tell me."

"Wish I could help you, Captain." He appeared a bit sad. "I miss my
family, too. At least I know where they are, and I can check in on
them, watch over them."

It took a while, but Betsy finally squeezed some words out past her
shock. "Schanke! You, too?"

The shade brightened. "Hiya. Gee, someone from the Land of the
Living."

"Barely." Betsy finished off her drink. "It's great to see you, even
if this is all a hallucination. By the way, I've got a message for
you."

"Oh?"

"Everyone says 'hi'--Perri, Cath... Pam Rush sends warmest regards to
her Dear Donny."

He grinned. "She always made me the best souvlaki. Maybe I'll drop by
when she's sleeping for a dream brunch."

"I'm sure she'd appreciate that. Well, Captain," she turned to the
other ghost, "shall we hit the streets once more?"

"What's our plan?"

Betsy shrugged. "The sun'll be up soon. Things should look better in
the morning. It might help us think of another set of options."

"Lead the way. So long, Detective."

"Bye, Captain."

With that, the two women exited the deli and resumed their quest.

***

Time: 9am
Place: Streets of Toronto

Betsy's footsteps dragged. The caffeine had worn off and she could
hardly keep her eyes open. They had been roaming for hours, waiting
for either an idea, a clue, or divine intervention. Preferably all
three.

Betsy gave up the battle, closing her eyes and sleepwalking along,
following the sound of Cohen talking. It worked fine for a few
minutes, until suddenly a gruff male voice shouted, "Watch where
you're going!"

She froze instinctively, her eyes snapping open to see that she was
standing half-overlapping an older man. She hastily backed away,
staring as the man--or, rather, ghost--patted his chest to be sure it
was intact. "Harry?" She had little difficulty recognizing him. "But
you're not an FK ghost!"

"Darn tootin'," said MacGyver's grandfather.

"That does it!" Betsy plopped down on the sidewalk. "I refuse to budge
another inch. I'm obviously a raving lunatic, so there really isn't
any point." The passersby seemed inclined to agree as they scooted
past, casting curious glances in her direction.

"Nonsense, young lady," Harry contradicted vehemently. "You most
certainly are *not* raving."

Betsy let the words sink in, then began to giggle. By this time,
anything anybody said would have seemed hilarious. "I don't suppose--
you've seen--a girl named Evelyn Cohen?" she gasped out between bursts
of laughter.

"Nope, can't say as I have. But I'm sure someone has. Those of us on
the spirit plane tend to get about quite a bit. Lack of physical
barriers and all that."

Betsy wiped her eyes as the giggles subsided. "So all I have to do is
ask around?"

"Can't hurt to try."

"Thanks, Harry." She scrambled to her feet. "I've spent half the
morning on this project already, I may as well see it through." She
suppressed another chuckle at the "see-through" pun. "C'mon, Captain,
we've got work to do."


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


"Hello, My Name is Inigo Montoya..."  Stealing Vamps, Part One of Four
By Elizabeth Ann Lewis
Monday August 4th, 1996, about 4:45 in the morning
University of Toronto

"How'd you get him in here?" Kristina asked, observing the first of
four subjects locked in the recording booth.

Lizbet smiled with satisfaction.  "I cornered him with a cross and a
vial of holy water about 3 minutes before the sun came up and invited
him into the nice, dark van.  He accepted the invitation.  You know, I
wonder why crosses affect vampires and other religious items don't.
Take idols, for example.  At times in the Byzantine Empire they were
held to be holy in and of themselves, not just symbols.  Whole
*dynasties* rose and fell on the argument of whether or not they were
incarnate good...."

Kristina picked up her notebook and popped her historian friend over
the head.  "Thanks," Lizbet said.  She eyed Vachon and asked, "Is it
safe?  I mean, can he break out of there?"

"Shatter-proof, sound-proof glass," Kristina said with satisfaction.

Lizbet looked at the enraged vampire pounding his fists on the
interior of the recording booth and shuddered.  "I'm glad.  Look, I'm
just curious.  Do you have a thing for kidnapping people?"

"Why do you ask?" Kristina asked innocently.

"Oh, no reason.  Just that I remember waking up tied to a chair
watching you the third--or was it fourth?--time I was kidnapped in the
Highlander War."

Kristina ignored her and reached over to flip a switch on the master
control board, opening a speaker to the booth and turning on the
recorder. A flood of words poured out of Vachon's booth.  Kristina
made interesting "hmmm," noises and took notes.  "What's he saying?"
Lizbet asked.

Kristina looked up, considered, and shook her head.  "You don't want
to know.  Here," she handed Lizbet a list.  "Ask him to translate
these words into as many languages as he knows."

Lizbet looked over the list.  It consisted of simple words like,
"meat", "skin", "hot", "blood".  The idea was to see what the words
had been like in older forms of languages... something that vampires
were an excellent resource for.  Kristina leaned over to Lizbet and
whispered, "Don't bother asking him if he knows the words for 'comb.'"

Lizbet pulled the mic towards her and cleared her throat.  "Um,
Vachon?"

"What?" the vampire snarled.

"Hi.  We're not going to hurt you, I promise.  You'll be back at your
church by seven o'clock.  8 AM tops.  My employer just wants to get
some information from you.  It's for the furthering of scholarship."

Vachon gave an opinion on scholarship that was short, succinct, and
thankfully in Spanish.  "Or was that Basque?" Lizbet asked Kristina,
who grunted and kept scribbling notes.

"Look, I'll make it easy on you.  You answer our questions, we'll let
you out."

Unsurprisingly, Vachon was not pleased with the situation.  But he
eventually realized he'd stay a lot longer if he argued than if he
just gave in.  "We need to fill out a subject information sheet,"
Kristina said.

Lizbet took the sheet began to read it to Vachon.  "Full name."

"J. D. Valdez."

"Oooo," Lizbet said.  "Is that *really* your name?  That means that
you Spanish, probably from southern Spain, probably of Moorish
ancestory..."

Kristina whapped Lizbet on the head again to knock her out of his
historian's trance while Vachon answered, "No, it's not my real name,
but it's the best one you're going to get."

"Darn.  Place of birth?"

"The Iberian peninsula."

Lizbet decided not to argue that one.  "Date of birth?"

"All Soul's Day, 1504."

"Places you have spent a significant amount of time?"

Vachon sighed.  "This could take a while."

For an hour, he translated Kristina's list of words as Lizbet read
them out to him, while Kristina made notes.  Then they moved on to
phrases.

"'Your mother is a cabbage,'" Lizbet read

Vachon blinked. "'My mother is a cabbage?'"

"No, 'Your mother is a cabbage'. Just translate it."

Vachon did.

"'Your father is a cabbage'."

Blink.
   Blink.

Dutifully, he parroted it in as many languages and dialects he could.

"'Your father was a hamster and your mother stank of elderberries.'"

BLINKBLINKBLINKBLINK.

"'My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die.'"

Vachon's eyelid speed approached Mach 2.  "Is that actually on the
list?"

"Umm... no," Lizbet admitted.  "I just wanted to hear that said with a
real Spanish accent."

Vachon finally just closed his eyes and muttered.  "What's he saying
now?" Lizbet wanted to know.

Kristina looked up and shook her head again.  "Never mind."


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


Being a Perkulator
Partly - Perkulators
Monday, 8/5  6 am

Monday mornings meant more when you worked, Partly decided.  Since she
had become a full time Mom, the days of the week didn't really matter,
and since she couldn't sleep in on the weekends anyhow, Monday was
just another day.  Still, it was a pleasant thought, being able to
stay in bed if you wanted to.  A grey kitten leapt up on the bed and
pounced on the pillow next to Partly.  So much for staying in bed.
Willow stared at Partly, and Partly knew what that look meant:  *Feed
me*.

Partly climbed out of bed and Willow leapt onto her shoulders.  Partly
walked into the main room of the hotel and crossed to the door.  Room
service breakfast was a standing order, and Partly wasn't disappointed
when she opened the door.  A cart of food and two pots of steaming
coffee waited outside.  Pulling it in, she placed the bowl of tuna on
the table for the hungry cat, then poured herself a cup of coffee.
The rest of the Perks could have the food once they get up.

The war, like the last one, was mostly being fought without her.  She
had good intentions and even the opportunity to work with other
factions, she just didn't have the time.  Of course, if she were back
in real life, she'd be tearing the siding off her garage.  No, they'd
probably be done with that and would have moved on to the roof.  The
way she had it figured, if they worked dawn 'til dusk they could have
the old shingles ripped off, new boards put on where needed, and the
new shingles on in three days, four days tops.

So, enjoying the opportunity to do nothing, Partly walked slowly over
to the large windows and drew open the draperies.  She blinked at the
words that somehow mysteriously appeared on the window:   "Hi.  Your
security sucks.  However, I am available as a consultant for a nominal
fee.  Contact me if interested.  berg@eskimo.com."

Berg.  She smiled as she remembered her attack on the Raven in the
last war.  Berg had done excellent work for her then, and he was
right, their security *did* suck.  It might just be worth the money,
er, chocolate, to hire the merc to secure the place.  In the same way,
Partly thought that maybe she should visit the Raven again this war.
She took another drink of coffee and sighed.  Real life and a roofless
garage loomed in the background.  No, there just wouldn't be time.
Next war, she swore to herself.  Next war she would do it for sure.
Besides, no one seemed interesting in attacking them.  Partly didn't
know whether that was bad or good, but is seemed to come with being a
Perkulator.  And from what she heard, she was sure the Ravenette's
were getting tired of redecorating.

Willow rubbed against her feet and purred.  Partly had tried,
discretely, to find the owned of the kitten, but she'd hadn't had any
luck yet.  She was sure the owner would show up sooner or later.
Picking up the kitten, she sat down at her computer and flipped on
AOL.  She had another e-mail form Tracy.  Since their meeting on
Thursday night, the cryptic messages had changed into the more normal
letters and Partly had even answered.  The exchange of letters had
gone a long way to convincing Partly that Tracy *was* Tracy.  The
phrasing and thought patterns were distinctly hers, even if the
content was slightly more dark and bitter.  Partly explained the
affiliations and the war, as much as she could, and Tracy seemed to
accept it without too many question.  Partly had also told Tracy about
Nick's book.  The one her father had, and Partly took, and that was in
turn stolen by Cousin Candice.  She told her about Jamie thinking she
was Tracy, and about the Perks hunt for the truth.  The current
message in front of her made Partly think that Tracy was actually
sounding more and more like her oldself.

However, several questions still remained.  How did Tracy survive?
Was she a vampire?  What was she going to do now?  Tracy wouldn't
answer any of those questions, except to say that she didn't want
Partly to tell anyone she was around.  It wasn't exactly a secret that
Partly wanted to keep. But, she'd follow Tracy's wishes.  At least
until there were signs she wasn't who she claimed to be.

Still, there was no reason she couldn't look for answers on her own.
Perri had told her Nick wanted to talk to her.  It didn't surprise
Partly.  The questions she had Perri ask him were highly suspicious,
especially in war time.  Jennie hadn't gotten back to her, but that
hadn't surprised Partly much either.  With the leader of the NatPack
covered from head-to-toe in orange, there was a good chance she wasn't
coherent enough to remember to ask Nat.  If Nat was around.

Partly groaned.  She had thought the last war was hard to follow.  In
this one, the people who were dead were the only ones around.  Partly
stretched, refilled her cup, and once again pushed real life out of
her thoughts.  She quickly wrote a response to Tracy, letting her know
that she'd stand with her no matter what she decided.  She may think
that Tracy wasn't doing the right thing, but it wasn't her place to
judge.  It was her place support the decisions Tracy made.  After all,
she was The Perkulator.


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


Was that a bird...?
by Robbi Egersdorf <Knightie> with help from Carrie Krumtum and
Katrinka Kendall
 Time: Monday, Aug 5, 1996 directly after "Bodyguards Again!!" and
simultaneous with "Is that what I think it is?" midmorning to noon.
 Place: Start at the Loft




Katrinka and Carrie argued about who would drive the caddy.  They
decided that Katrinka would drive there and Carrie would drive back.

Katrinka sat in the driver's seat with her hands on the wheel,
excited that she was about to drive the caddy.  "I've only had my
drivers license since October," She admitted to Carrie,  "so my
driving's--how can I put it?--Like Schanke's."

A look of concern came over Carrie's face.  "Oh no, I don't want to go
on one of those out-of-control rides.  Maybe you shouldn't drive."

"Don't be silly.  No one has cut the brake line.  I'll do fine."  She
turned the key and the engine protested into life.  "Feel that power. 
No plain city car can give you that kind of power."

"Let's cut the crap and get going or it'll be midnight before we get
back."

Katrinka looked a little hurt, but it passed quickly.  She put the
beast into gear and they were off.

Toronto Trek had been held at the Regal Constellation Hotel on Dixon
Road in Etobicoke, VERY near the airport.  They had gotten detailed
directions so it would be easy.

When they arrived, they found the con was over.  "What are we going to
do now?"  Katrinka consulted with Carrie.

"We question the employees and those here cleaning up the place."

They split up and started working through the clean up crew. Each had
a photo of Nick to show.

Carrie had found a tall, skinny guy with stingy brown hair working
hard to wash some spill off the floor.  She approached him and showed
him the photo. "Did you see this man last night."

The man looked at the photo and blinked.  He looked rather worried.
"I don't think so."  He turned back to his work as if she weren't
there.

"You know something.  I need to find this man."  Carrie persisted.

The worker turned back to Carrie and looked her straight in the eye.
"Look lady, I didn't see anything.  People just don't get up and fly
away."

"Ah."  She knew she had found her witness, she just had to convince
him to talk to her.  "I see, you were drinking too much, weren't you."

"Don't tell my boss, I was supposed to be sober."

Katrinka walked up behind Carrie.  "I didn't find anything, how about
you?"

"I think this is our ticket," she whispered to her partner, then
turned back to the man, "I won't tell if you help me.  I know you saw
something of this man, I just need to know what happened to him."

"Okay.  I was just taking some supplies up to the roof, you know, for
that convention thing they had yesterday.  Well, this man was just
leaving and something fell on his head and knocked him down.  I was
just getting ready to call an ambulance when he just got up and flew
away.  I know I drank too much."  He shook his head,  visibly worried
he had lost his sanity.

Katrinka rationalized for him,  "It was a publicity stunt, calm down. 
He had wires."

"Yeah?  I saw the wires."  The man was definitely relieved.  "Oh,
thanks.  I thought I was losing my mind there."

"Okay, so you're not insane.  What happened after he left?"  Carrie
continued the questioning

"Well, this woman got down out of the air duct and picked up what
looked like a brick and left."

"Describe the woman.  I need to know if it's someone we know,"
Katrinka asked.

"Well,"  The man ran his hand through his hair as he thought, "I think
she had red hair.  Yes, she had red hair.  At first I thought she was
a man because she was so tall.  That's about all I noticed, a tall
redhead."

"Thanks.  You really have helped us a lot."  Carrie turned to leave
with Katrinka following.  "I think we can tell who that is from that
description. There's not a whole lot of tall redheads in this blasted
war."

"Yes, I believe you're right.  Mission accomplished.  Yesss."  She did
the Nick victory dance as they came out into the morning air.

Carrie turned to her and held out her hand,  "It's my turn to drive."

Before Katrinka got in the car, she looked over her shoulder, a
faraway look in her eyes.

"What's up."  Carrie questioned.

"Oh, I guess it's nothing.  It just felt like someone was watching us.
It's gone now."


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


Is that what I think it is?
by Robbi Egersdorf <Knightie> with help from Lauren Rhodes and Nancy
Taylor
Time: Monday, Aug 5, 1996 directly after "Bodyguards Again!!" and
simultaneous with "Was that a bird... ?" midmorning to noon.
 Place: Start at the Loft




They set Lauren and the box of empty bottles in the back seat and
Nancy and Robbi got in the front, Robbi on the driver's side.

"You have the address and directions that Marg gave us?"  Robbi
inquired of Nancy.

She held up the slip of paper.  "Let's get going."

It wasn't too difficult to find.  They went around the back way to
avoid anyone at CERK seeing them, since the butcher's and the radio
station were a mere two blocks apart.

Nancy surveyed the building, a large red brick affair.  "It looks
closed."

"Marg did say that most everything would be closed because of the
Carribana festivities.  How did Nick and Lacroix get in that one
time?"  Robbi said as she starting circling the building.

Lauren, with her headphones and walkman she always kept close was the
first one up to the window on the side.  "Hey look, it's open."  She
slipped in before either of the other ladies could say anything.
<It's a good thing I decided to wear shorts instead of a skirt for
this.> Lauren thought to herself as she walked to the front door to
unlock it.

"This is a really spooky place.  Dark and all.  It sure smells bad,"
Lauren commented as Nancy and Robbi passed her.

"Let's find that vat of blood and get out of here.  I agree with
Lauren, this place gives me the creeps,"  Robbi commented.

Nancy went back out to the car and brought in the box of bottles.  In
that time, Robbi and Lauren had located the blood and called to Nancy
to join them.

Lauren handed the others the bottles and packed the full ones back in
the crate.  She sang to the walkman, her brown hair bobbing in time
with the music:

"On My Own
Pretending He's beside Me
All Alone I Walk with him till morning
Without him, I feel his arms around me
And when I lose my way, I close my eyes,
And he has found me."

"Can you stop that singing?"  Nancy asked.

"What?"  was all that she could get from Lauren.

Nancy reached over and pulled one side of the headphones away from her
ear. "I said can you stop singing."

She took off the headphones and turned off the soundtrack.

They almost had all the bottles filled and corked when there came an
eerie sound through the air.  "Ooooo.  OOooooo."

Robbi, who had just filled the ladle, jumped and spilled the blood on
herself and Lauren.

"Ewww, that's gross.  I think I'm gonna to be sick."  Lauren attempted
to brush the crimson liquid from her clothes.  "I suppose this will
stain."

"Shhh.  What was that?"  Nancy whispered, her heart pounding a hundred
miles a minute.

That very instant, the noise decided to repeat itself.  "Mooo.  Mooo."

Robbi relaxed and laughed a nervous laugh of relief.  "Of course.
Those are cows.  They're probably here to be butchered tomorrow."

Lauren looked at her with horror in her eyes.  "They're going to... ,"
she swallowed hard, "kill them tomorrow?"  The task of filling the
bottles forgotten, she ran off to follow the sound.

"Nancy, you finish and get these loaded in the car.  I'll go follow
her and make sure she doesn't get into trouble."

Nancy nodded and took the ladle from Robbi.  She continued filling the
last of the bottles as Robbi ran off in the direction she had seen
Lauren disappear.

"Lauren, wait up,"  She called.

"I'm in here,"  came the answering voice.

She followed Lauren's voice and the mooing down a long dark corridor
to find the girl staring at about ten head of black and white
holsteins.  "I can't let them be killed tomorrow.  Look at their sad
cow eyes."  In an instant, Lauren was gone again.

Robbi followed her out a door where the loading shoots were.  By the
time she arrived, Lauren was busy unwiring a gate and flung it open as
Robbi watched with horror in her eyes.   The cows saw their
opportunity at freedom and ran through the gate.  "How could you?  Now
we have to round them up and put them back."

"But why?"  Lauren stared at the backsides of the disappearing cattle.

Robbi grabbed her arm.  "Come on.  We'll be in so much trouble if we
don't get them back."

"Aw, you're no fun."  The pair of Knighties ran around and by Nancy
just as she was loading the case of blood in Karen's white Hyundai.

"What happened?  I leave you alone for ten seconds and all mayhem
breaks loose,"  Nancy called after the stampede.

"Break loose is right.  Help us.  We'll never get them back on our
own," Robbi shouted just as she slipped on a pile of cow plop.

Nancy decided to follow with the car.  When she had caught up after a
block and a half, she parked the car and ran after Robbi.  "They're
heading right for CERK!  What are we going to do?"

Robbi stopped running and called for Lauren to come back.  They were
now in sight of the radio station.  Someone had opened the back door
of the station just as the first cow was passing.  The leader of the
herd took a quick turn and ran right through the open door.  You know
how cows are, the other nine quickly followed the first in.

The Knighties looked on with such a look of horror, well you have
never seen such a horrified group of Knighties in your life.  "Let's
get out of here, quick."  Nancy pulled on Robbi's sleeve.

"Yeah, I don't want anyone to see us."  They quickly got in the car
and sped off.

After what had happened Robbi was a little shaky and took a few wrong
turns before she found the loft.  They were buzzed in and brought the
blood up in the elevator.

Perri and Cath greeted them as they entered the room.  Dotti took the
blood from Nancy and started putting it in the fridge.

"Is that what I think it is?"  Cath asked as she pointed at the trio's
feet. The three looked down at the green glob that clung to their
shoes.

Karen just looked horrified.  "My car!"

"Don't worry, we'll clean it for you."  Robbi elbowed Nancy and Lauren
who all agreed.

"What did you do?"  Perri wrinkled her nose in distaste at the aroma
of barnyard that filled the air.

Robbi grimaced,  "We, ah...  sort of... found some... cows... and
we... um... sort of... let them out."

Lauren, with the excitement of their adventure flushing in her cheeks,
"Yeah, it was a cow revolt.  They ran right down the alley and into
CERK."

"They what?  They ran *into* CERK!"  By that time she and all the
other Knighties had lost it and several were rolling on the floor in
laughter.

Robbi and Nancy looked around the room, puzzled at the reaction they
received.  Nancy broke a smile first.  "It is kind of funny, after
all." And they joined in on the laughter.


end

Lyrics from the Les Miserables Soundtrack, London Cast, written by
Alain Boublil and Claude Michel Schoenberg, Lyrics by Herbert
Kretzmer, First Night Records.


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


The Prodigal Merc
Partly - Perkulators
Friday, 8/2  9 am

Jamie bounced in the corner of the coffee shop, listening to a tape on
her walkman.  Partly was happy the other woman had given up her
stronger tendencies toward s&m outfits, even though she was one of the
few people who could pull it off.  Unfortunately, she hadn't given up
on her belief that she was Tracy.  It was beginning to wear thin.
Willow, who had been sitting, purring, on her shoulders, suddenly got
down and curled up into a ball in the carryall that had been rigged
for her.  She was currently sharing it with a wine bottle wrapped in a
plastic bag.

Partly poured herself some more coffee and sighed.  She had talked to
Jennie, Queen of the NatPack, yesterday and had arranged to give the
problem over to them.  Last she heard, Jamie had joined the 'Pack,
much to the dismay of the Mercs.  Thinking of the NatPack, Partly
frowned.  They had sounded so...  strange over the phone.  Not that
strange was an unusual thing for the NatPack, it was just that they
had sounded stranger than usual.  Then again, Partly doubted if that
were possible.

Jamie bounced over to Partly.  "I don't understand why I should go
with the NatPack.  You're my faction.  If I should go anywhere, it
should be to the Vachon."  Partly was startled to see that Jamie was
almost pouting.  She obviously wasn't over her infatuation with Vachon
yet, either.

"I told you, Jam--Tracy."  Partly explained for the tenth time.
"You'll be safer with them.  People will look for you by your faction,
not by Nat's." Partly tried for an convincing lie.  "Vachon thought it
was a good idea."

"Vachon?"  Jamie brightened at the name.  "Why didn't you say so."
She bounced off again.  Partly considered that.  With all the bouncing
that Jamie was doing, she definitely belonged to the NatPack.  The
Perks may be perky, but they only bounced when duty called.

Partly was finishing her third cup of coffee when Jennie entered.  At
least Partly thought it could be Jennie, except that her hair, glasses
(including lenses), and clothes were all varying shades of blaze
orange.  The room got noticeably brighter when she walked in.   She
crossed to Partly's table.

"Hello."  She sat down and poured herself a cup of water, then pulled
out a small package of food coloring and dyed it orange.  Partly
watched her in disbelief.

Partly finally managed to nod a hello, still staring at the *ORANGE*
person in front of her.  "Are you feeling alright, Jennie?"

"I'm fine."  Jennie finished drinking her water and now had a orange
mustache to go along with the rest of her ensemble.  She glanced over
at the counter and exclaimed:  "Orange scones, my favorite."  She
leapt up and crossed to buy a scone.

In the midst of this very bizarre behavior (even for Jennie), Jamie
wondered back over to Partly's table.  "Partly, who is that?"  Her
voice was soft and puzzled, and she was staring at Jennie.

"That's who I told you about Jam --- Tracy.  Jennie's from the
NatPack."

Jamie suddenly pulled back.  "No.  No.  Not the NatBorg.  They'll
assimilate me.  I want my MercMommy!"  She backed all the way up into
the corner and stood looking at Partly, terrified.

Jennie chose that moment to come back.  She looked at the frightened
Jamie, than back at Partly.  "What's up?"

Partly shrugged.  "I don't know."  She walked slowly over to Jamie.
"Tracy?  Tracy?"  Jamie didn't respond.  Partly tried something new.
"Jamie."  Jamie finally looked at her.  Ah-ha.  We're back to Jamie,
Partly thought.  But that wasn't necessarily good, since when Jamie
thought she was Jamie, she also said she was a Merc.  "Just relax,
Jamie.  I won't let them take you if you don't want to go."  Jamie
relaxed slightly.  "Just listen to your KISS tape."  Jamie nodded and
put the headphones back on.

"She thinks she's a Merc."  Partly explained when she got back to
Jennie.

Jennie nodded.  "The Mercs 'napped her earlier.  Then they must have
lost her.  Doesn't she want to come back?"

Partly shook her head, smiling.  "She seems to think you'll brainwash
her. Eeeeevil NatPack."  Partly grinned again, then turned serious.
"I don't think we should push the subject.  She's still not quite up
to par."

Jennie nodded.  "You'd better take her to Merc headquarters, then."
She quickly jotted down the address.   "Just let us know that she got
there safely."

Partly took the paper and looked at her *very* orange friend.  "Is
everything OK, Jennie?"

"Sure."

"Why are you wearing orange?"

Jennie stopped eating and gave Partly a intense stare.  "Is there
something wrong with orange?  Are you saying I don't look *good* in
orange?  Or do you have something against the color orange and people
who wear it?"

Partly raised her hands.  "Hey, it was just a question.  I honestly
think that no one could wear orange as well as you can."  That wasn't
a lie, she just didn't say that she thought Jennie looked like a large
day-glow orange ad for hunter's safety.  Partly idly wondered if she
should try to have the NatPack's water tested.

Jennie finished her scone.  "Well, I suppose.  I do have a war to
contend with."

"Before you go, I was hoping you could do me a favor.  Ask Natalie if
she's sure Tracy was dead.  Ask her if she thought she could have been
revived or brought across."

Jennie stared at her again.  "What's going on?"

Partly shrugged.  "It might not be anything, depending upon Nat's
answer. Just ask her, OK?"

Jennie nodded and left.  Jamie crossed back to Partly.  "What are we
going to do now?"  Her voice was still soft and pleading.

Partly took her gently by the arm, picked up the sleeping kitten in
the carryall and led her out of the shop.  "We're going to take you to
the Mercs, Jamie."

"Oh, Goody!"

******

Minutes later, Partly pulled the rental into the Mercs driveway.
Jamie in tow, she walked up to the door and rang the bell.  Christina
herself opened the door.

"I'm hooome," Jamie announced, pushing past the startled Merc and
going up the stairs.

"She thought she was Tracy," Partly began, quickly explaining what the
errant Jamie had been up to the past two days.  "I was under the
impression she was a NatPacker, but suddenly she said she was Jamie,
that she was a Merc, and she wanted her mommy.  You, I presume?"

Christina nodded.  Quietly wondering if the Perk leader always talked
this fast.  The most amazing part was that she could still be
understood. "Thank you for returning her.  I'd say we owe you one, but
you know the rules about working for free."

Partly nodded, then suddenly remembered something.  "I was wondering
if I could hire you to do me a small favor."  She reached into
Willow's carryall and pulled out the bottle the kitten had been
sleeping next to.  She handed it to the Merc.  I'd like to know  what
was in it and whose fingerprints are on it.  You can just e-mail me
the results and your bill."

Christina took the bottle gently from the Perk's hand, being careful
not to smear the prints on it.  "I'll see what I can do."

*****

Partly got back to the hotel and downloaded her mail.  A message from
Christina was already there.  "Those Mercs do good work,"  she said to
Willow, who was assuming her now customary perch on Partly's
shoulders.

The message read:

Contents of Bottle:  Fairly inexpensive red wine, consistent with labeling.
                      Chemical analysis available upon request.
Finger Prints:  Several unidentified partial prints
                      Three prints belonging to Rebecca Kludy aka Partly
                      Two prints belonging to Tracy Vetter
Payment Due:  One large bag of milk chocolate-covered pretzels from RDM

Partly stared at the screen, then reached up and scratched Willow's
ears. "Well, Willow.  The mystery deepens."  Willow just purred.


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


COWS: The Cowleaders Cry of Surprise (01/03)
By: Denise Underwood, Cousin. With input from Mel Moser, Laura
McMillan & Cherri Munoz
Monday,  August 5, 1996  10am
CERK


Laura and Mel entered the office, wondering why on earth Denise had
asked them to come to CERK HQ.  Hopefully they would find out soon,
being in the enemy camp was not pleasant even though they had Denise's
assurances that all she wanted to do was talk.

"Good Morning Ladies" Denise greeted them. "Do sit down, may I get you
something? Espresso or tea?"

"No thank you, we're fine." Laura replied.

"Down to business then." Denise sat down opposite them. "You probably
are wondering why you are here."

Mel and Laura nodded. "Uh huh., we are curious." Said Mel.

"I think it's time we called a truce over the AMEX incident." Denise
declared.

"You do?" Mel asked, totally taken by surprise. It was the last thing
Mel had expected of her fellow wallflower. N&N sources had indicated
that  LaCroix had been very unhappy with her over the incident, and
had taken measures to attest to his displeasure.  In fact, Mel had
been more than a  little concerned about her friend lately.

"Surprised?" Denise smiled. "Yes I suppose you would be. I'll admit I
was not to pleased with the idea myself, the repercussions of that
little incident were," she paused, shivering slightly, "unpleasant.
That's neither here nor there though. LaCroix wants this, and I of
course follow orders."

"LaCroix!" Laura exclaimed.

"Yes, LaCroix."

"But why? It makes no sense." Laura said, confusion on her face.

The General, if the mood strikes him, quite admires 'nerve'.  He was
impressed with yours, using his money to fortify your HQ. And then
throwing in the Miklos red herring to put the fraud people off your
trail." Denise explained. "However," she warned, "I wouldn't try it
again. LaCroix would be much less.. forgiving the next time."

"What's the catch, really " Mel asked suspiciously.

"The catch?" Denise looked at the two women with an amused expression
on her face. "Merely to assist me and my evil twins in a one time only
mission. And once you hear the details I'm sure you will agree" she
finished confidently.

Mel and Laura looked at each other doubtfully. "You think so?" Laura
asked Denise.

"I know so. How could you say no to helping avenge the honor of a
fellow wallflower?" Denise watched the reactions flitting across the
faces of Laura and Mel. "Besides, you probably wouldn't like the
consequences of saying 'no', believe me." Denise finished, a wicked
gleam in her eyes.

"We won't give in to threats Denise, just tell us what the objective
is and then we'll decide." Laura stated firmly.

Denise laughed. "Very well." She proceeded to explain the objective,
Mel and Laura listening carefully. Denise finished , asking "Shall I
leave you two alone to discuss it?"

"Yes, please. Give us a moment." Laura answered.

Ten minutes later Denise reentered the office. "Well?"

"Agreed, a truce for this one mission." Laura replied.

"Good!" Denise said, satisfaction evident on her face. "Let's make
plans shall we?"


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


Caffeine Cures Cadavers and Conundrums pt. 1/2
By: Spifff, Lana Soward, AJ, Sarah Chodrow and Diane E.
(unaffiliated), and with permission from Sara Orel (merc).
Time: 11:OO am
Day: 5 August 96
Place: Spifff's flat, Downtown TO

Rrrrring, Rrrrringggg. The sounds reverberated in Spifff's head.
Groggily, she raised it from the pillow and groped the bedside table
for the phone. "Hello?" "Hello?" she moaned weakly. Realizing that she
was addressing her hairbrush, she reached for the receiver and picked
it up bumping her head on the bedside lamp in the process. "Ouch,
Hello?"

"Hi Spifff, it's such a beautiful day, let's do lunch" chirped Sara,
on the other end of the phone. It was enough to make a Perkulator
heave. "You mean food? Please, no, not on an empty stomach. What time
is it, anyway?" mumbled Spifff. Her stomach engaged in performing
various gymnastic feats of olympic level prowess.

"Ah, let me guess, you were out partying last night. You either work
like a maniac or party like one. Tell you what I'll meet you for
coffee in half an hour at the Rocket Fuel instead. I don't get to see
you or TO very often you know," admonished Sara.  "Well, you do get to
see me at my very best today" Spifff responded somewhat sarcastically
as she hung up. Somewhere the judges had just awarded her stomach a
9.87 and the gold metal.

Man, this is definitely a double espresso morning, Spifff thought
somewhat incoherently, as she attempted and failed in the fine art of
dressing one's self. Upon sober reflection, bobbing for the worm in
the mezcal bottle definitely had been a bad idea.

She staggered into the living room where AJ and Sarah were busy
noshing on a brunch of bagels, cream cheese and lox. "Ah, the dead
finally rise" Sarah commented. AJ waved a bagel at Spifff, "Have a
bagel, oh embalmed one. You're just in time, we're getting ready to
bring a some over to Lana at the hospital. Anything's got to be better
than hospital food!" Spifff's bloodshot eyes scanned the food being
proffered and she decided she'd be wise to give it a miss.

"Where are the duplicates of your photos and the note, AJ?" Spifff
asked. "In the envelope on the coffee table, under Tuppence" said
Sarah, waving a knife in their general direction. Both cats were
intent on poaching some of the smoked salmon from brunch. Scooping the
furry onto the floor, Spifff picked up the envelope. The loud "YOW!"
Tuppence issued in protest could be heard three floors away.

"Okay, I'm off to ensure their delivery. Say hi to Lana and Diane for
me. Catch you guys later, bye."
Dressed like a retro-baglady, Spifff headed out the door to the Rocket
Fuel Cafe (tm).

"Aaah. Nirvana, I am becoming one with the bean." Satisfaction crept
over Spifff as she licked the foam off the edge of the cafe au lait
bowl. She was edging back towards civilization. The caffeine and
aspirin were working. "Spifff, Get your face out of the bowl, you're
embarrassing me. You look and act like you just crawled off a heating
grate" Sara said reprovingly.

"It's really nice to see you again too, Sara. Toronto's just not the
same without you around. Have a pez? They're cherry and if you
recognize any of the ingredients, I'll give you a prize." Spifff
thrust the dispenser towards her friend. "Uh, blech, how can you eat
that stuff?" Sara made a face, but as she looked closer at the
dispenser began to giggle. "That looks a bit like a q-tip. It's not...
oh my, I don't think he'd be very happy with that."

Spifff slipped into her TV announcer voice, "Well Kids, for today's
art project you'll need a little bit of crazy glue, some cotton
batton, a little hair spray and *Presto* you too can have fun at home.
Now, you've been a wonderful studio audience, thank you for playing.
We have lovely parting gifts." Sara looked at her friend and shook her
head. "You are definitely magnoon owwie <very crazy>"
"Oh, you know how I love it when you talk Arabic to me." Spifff
fluttered her eyes and they both laughed.

"Oh, by the way, would you mind delivering this envelope to Torrey at
Vachon's Church?" asked Spifff in a rather offhand sort of way.
"Perhaps, for a price of course," answered Sara. She was suddenly on
her guard, her Merc instincts creeping to the forefront.

"Well, I think we can arrange something appropriate. See those movie
vans lining Lowther? Guess who's filming in one of the frat houses,
it's that gentleman who's autographed doodle you worked so hard to get
last year, Mr. Derek J." smirked Spifff.
"No way, you lie like a rug Spifffmeister and besides the film people
wouldn't let me anywhere near him," Sara objected.

"Wrong-O mon amie, guess where they get their coffee from. If you
wished you could be the next coffee delivery person, if the price is
right. I have friends in low places. So do we have a deal Sara?" Sara
began to grin and flush. "Really, okay sure, she stammered."  "I'll
make the arrangements. Enjoy, I've got to frappe la rue." Spifff
bounced out of the Rocket Fuel hummming to herself, her hangover
cured.


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


Ghost of a Chance (4/4)
by Amparo Bertram (NatPack) and Betsy Vera (NatPack/Cohen-head)

Time: 11am
Place: Toronto
Day: Monday, 8/5/96

Betsy posed the question to the ghost Mountie as he helped her cross
the street--assistance she sorely needed after becoming mesmerized by
the bright, shiny traffic light. He hadn't seen Evelyn, however.
"Thank you kindly, Sergeant Fraser," she called after him as he faded.
"Give my regards to your son."

She meandered down the sidewalk, eyes peeled for wandering spirits.
She had encountered a fair number so far, some tagging along to chat
for a few minutes before returning to the oblivion whence they came.
She had really enjoyed speaking with Melissa Scully, and though the
conversation with Tasha Yar wasn't exactly relaxing, she had to admit
it kept her awake. She had even been pleasantly surprised to meet
Lorenzo and Ironhorse.

Now she was beginning to get very hungry. She had completely lost
track of time. If it weren't for Cohen constantly encouraging her, she
likely would have ducked into the nearest fast food place and fallen
asleep over a pile of greasy wrappers.

Abruptly she ground to a halt, jaw dropping. "What is *he* doing
here?" She would recognize that shower curtain...er, encounter
suit...anywhere. She took a few steps forward.

The intimidating specter cocked its head--or whatever--at her, its
"eye" irising open at her timid approach. It made no sound, not that
she expected it to.

"Kosh?" she asked, her voice a whisper. She cleared her throat and
tried again. "Kosh, is it you in there?"

An eerie melody emerged from the mysterious figure, over which its
breathy translator superimposed one simple word. "Yes."

A surge of elation filled her. If anyone knew where to find Cohen's
daughter, it would be the Vorlon. All she had to do was get a straight
answer out of him.

Yeah, right.

She gave it her best shot. She spilled her whole story, ending with,
"So, can you tell me anything? I want to get this over and go home. I
feel like I've been walking these streets for a month."

After a brief pause, the alien replied, "You have always been here."

Betsy blinked. She might not be firing all thrusters, but she still
knew a quote when she heard one. "Don't tell me," she said, "Vorlon
humor?"

The dead ambassador continued to regard her silently.

"Why do I bother?" she sighed. "Look, if you won't give me an address,
could you at least give me a *hint*? Where should I search next?"

She almost thought he was going to ignore her when he turned to float
away, but he offered her one last comment. "In fire..."

She shook her head as he vanished. "I've had enough. I'm starving. I'm
taking a break *right now*, and the next place I see that has so much
as a--" She broke off, gaping up at the Burger King sign Cohen pointed
out in front of her. The words "flame broiled" scrolled through her
not-entirely-conscious mind. "...fire..."

She dashed into the restaurant with all the speed she could muster and
ordered a Whopper. It was her only clue, and she was going to cling to
it as fiercely as possible. She took her burger to a table by the
window for prompt consumption. She was on the fourth bite when Cohen
spoke.

"Betsy," the ghost announced, "someone's at the door."

The NatPacker's eyes locked with those of the phantom on the other
side of the glass door and she nearly choked. "Merlyn!" The remainder
of her lunch dropped, forgotten, to her tray as she hopped up and went
to meet the unfortunate girl. "Merlyn," she exclaimed, too tired for
pleasantries, "please tell me you know how to find Evelyn Cohen."

The ghost smiled softly. "Why, yes," she said with her Southern
accent. "I like to watch her play."

"Great! Can you take us to see her? This is her mother."

Merlyn nodded and led them through the city, depositing them in front
of another cozy apartment building. Betsy was ready to fall at the
girl's feet in gratitude, but she settled for just falling. Cohen
chuckled. "I'll take it from here. Thank you, Betsy, you've been a
true friend."

"Don't mention it," Betsy mumbled in a daze, wondering what she should
do now that she had accomplished her goal. She watched as the captain
ascended to the apartment and disappeared inside. Betsy drowsily made
herself comfortable on the steps until she could think of a better
place to catch a few winks.

A man brushed past and stood waiting on the landing, his back to her.
Betsy's ghost-trained eyes caught something unusual about him. He
wasn't translucent, as the others had been, but the morning sunlight
struck him oddly, making it appear as though it shone only on him.

She didn't remain puzzled for long. A few minutes after he arrived,
Cohen exited the building, smiling happily despite the tears in her
eyes. The man took her hand to escort her and they both waved farewell
to the NatPacker before stepping into a light so bright she had to
cover her face. "Andrew..." she murmured, knowing how jealous Jennie
and several of the other Pack members would be when they found out she
had seen their favorite Angel of Death.

"But when do *I* get to be the one to rest in peace?"


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


Who's Afraid of the Big Bad Vamp?
by Maureen Wynn, Kelly Gritten, and Mei Kwong, with a little
help from their NatPack friends
Time:  Monday, August 5, immediately after the end of "Ghost of
a Chance"
Place:  CERK


"I just want to *meet* him; don't worry so much," Kelly the Natpacker
said breezily, getting out of the car and walking jauntily toward the
door of the  radio station. In her hand she held a wad of computer
printouts, slightly crumpled.

Maureen stopped eyeing the wrinkled papers--which, with a warm iron,
would smooth out just fine, she was sure--and contemplated her fellow
Natpacker suspiciously. "Just...meet him? Why do you want to meet him?
Don't you feel this is perhaps...a little unwise during a War?" she
asked, after pausing to pick up an empty fast-food container and
dropping it in a sidewalk trash can.

"Yeah, don't you think this is a little *dangerous*?" Betsy
interjected, thinking about previous Wars and goldfish. She had been
dragged along unwillingly, but the three Natpackers had picked her up
from outside Cohen's ex-husband's apartment after a phone call asking
for a ride, and she had been even more unwilling to sit in the car by
herself--she was afraid of meeting *scary* ghosts.

"Well, *I* want to talk to him," Mei insisted, "War or no War." At
Maureen's worried glance, she continued reassuringly, "Just for a
little while...you know, just to talk." Somehow, this sentence caused
in Maureen the dread feeling of "Famous Last Words"--not a pleasant
sensation. She shuddered and slowed down, but Mei grabbed her by the
arm, and Kelly did likewise to Betsy, and the determined NatPackers
dragged their comrades forward into the building.

***

The Packlet paused inside the front doors, unsure of how to proceed.
"Where do you think LaCroix's office is?" Kelly asked.

"Somewhere where there's no windows!" wisecracked Mei.

"I guess we could try this way..." Kelly started to say, when she was
interrupted by Betsy's yelp.

"Dr. Johnny!" Betsy cried, staring across the lobby at...nothing?

Kelly, Mei and Maureen stared at Betsy, wondering perhaps if Belial
was stalking them. "Betsy, what are you looking at?" Maureen said,
gently (no sense upsetting the poor girl any further!).

"Can't you *see*...?  Oh, yeah, I guess you can't. It's the Doctor!"

"Doctor? What Doctor? You mean from Doctor Who?" Maureen said,
remembering Betsy's affection for the old series.

"Don't be silly!" Betsy said scornfully. "That Doctor's not *dead*.
No, it's...I think it's...Dr. Johnny Fever...? Where are you going?
No, don't go away! Hey!" and, in an exhaustion-induced frenzy, she ran
down the hallway, leaving the other three Natpackers standing in the
lobby, staring after her with their mouths hanging open in shock.

Maureen recovered first. "Man, she's really lost it!" she said. "We'd
better go after her--come on!"

"It can't be him," Kelly murmured as they set off after her.  "Johnny
is alive and well and living on 'E'!"

***

They had long since lost Betsy, and were now simply wandering around
the halls trying to find the way out of the building, when Mei stopped
suddenly at a door. "This is it!" she breathed.

"What?" Kelly asked, "the way out?" She came back to stand next to
Mei, and looked at the sign that had Mei so mesmerized. "Oh!" The sign
simply read 'Managing Director', but this was no simple brass
nameplate - it looked like 24-carat gold, and the deeply-etched
letters were filled in with dark red cloisonne. "That would be *it*,
all right!"

***

"LaCroix, don't you feel that you're perhaps a little too controlling
when it comes to Nick? Don't you think your relationship would improve
if you loosened the reins a little?" Mei smiled, sure that the master
vampire would agree with her oh-so-reasonable argument.

LaCroix regarded the mortal calmly. He was determined not to let these
Warring creatures get the better of him. "Perhaps you're too enamoured
of the concept of...freedom. It is vastly over-rated, in my
estimation." He clasped his hands before him on the desk, and leaned
forward slightly. "Surely you can see the appeal of belonging to
someone, a master who would...take care of you, see to your needs,
cherish you for who...and what you are...?" he riposted, raising one
eyebrow slightly, waiting for her reply.

"Freedom is never over-rated by the falcon--only by the falconer!"
Maureen, who had been checking the corners of the room for
dustbunnies, startled everyone by joining the discussion.

"Is she the cleaning woman?" LaCroix asked, puzzled. "She doesn't look
like the usual person..." Not too surprisingly, considering that the
usual cleaning service was staffed by down-on-their-luck vampires.
Maureen, for all her pale skin, was definitely not one of the un-dead.

"No, she's with me," Kelly said. "Maureen, *stop* that!" she hissed,
pulling Ms. Clean away from the mop and bucket she had somehow found.
"You're embarrassing me!"

"Stop trying to change the subject," Mei snapped at LaCroix. Kelly
frowned at her, but Maureen raised her mop in a kind of cheer.
"'Belonging' to someone is hardly what I want. Nor does Nick."

"Indeed. And you would be privy to dear Nicholas' innermost thoughts,
hmmm? You sound very sure of yourself, yet how can any of us...truly
know what another thinks or feels?"

"Oh, I'm pretty sure of how Nick feels! After all, hasn't he spent the
last 500 years trying to get away from you? That seems pretty clear!"

LaCroix looked banefully at this woman who had dared to contest his
ownership of Nicholas. "But he does come back to me in the end, does
he not?" he said, pulling his pocket watch out and glancing down at
it. He then closed it, but did not put it back in his pocket, instead
holding it in his hand, absently caressing it with his thumb.

"No, you *force* him back. That's a different story, buster!" Mei
retorted.

"Do *not* call me 'buster'!" LaCroix could feel his control slipping,
despite his resolve. "This... *travesty* has gone on long enough! You
will leave now." he said, rising from his chair.

"We're not leaving until you agree to discuss this!" Mei exclaimed.

"Leave. Now. Before you can no longer do so." He punctuated the
statement with a flash of golden eyes.

"Don't you even think about it, buster!" Mei shouted, as Maureen
cried, "You stay away from her!" Both NatPackers backed slowly away
from the vampire, edging towards the corner of the room. Maureen waved
her mop around dangerously (to herself and Mei, that is), trying to
ward him off. Meanwhile, Mei grabbed the phone from the desk and tried
to swing it at the vampire. She not only didn't get anywhere near
LaCroix, but she quickly found herself hoplessly entangled in the
cord.

"You aren't going to get your hands on her!" Maureen continued,
placing herself between the advancing vampire and her immobilized
friend. Holding her mop in one hand, she tried to free Mei from the
telephone cord with the other. She soon discovered that her efforts
were only getting herself wound up in the cord as well. Soon, the only
part of her that was still free was the hand holding the mop, still
proudly held upright like a battle staff.

"Back up, buster!" Maureen said as LaCroix continued to pace toward
them. "You're not going to get us that easily!"

LaCroix arched an eyebrow. "Indeed," he sighed. "You are hardly worth
the effort." And with that he lunged at them.

They backed up hastily. Into a conveniently open closet, in fact. With
a satisfied smile, LaCroix slammed the door shut and locked it. "And I
*told* you not to call me 'buster'!" he muttered, before turning to
the third NatPacker, still on the other side of the room, and asked--
quite calmly under the circumstances--"And what about you? Would you
like to join your friends in the closet?"

Kelly shook her head, smiling shyly. "No, I want to share something
with you...."

***

"And in this bit you and Nat fly to Rio, leaving Nicholas to spend
eternity locked in the toy factory with Tracy--"

"Enough!" he cried, fiercely enough even to slow--but not stop--
Kelly's endless exposition about stories where Nat and LaCroix lived
happily or unhappily ever after. <How dare she trivialize it!> Not
only was her prattle wearing on his dangerously thin nerves, but she
seemed oblivious to the annoying racket which her companions were
making as they pounded on the closet door. To vampire ears, it was
most distressing.

LaCroix finally lost his temper with the impertinent little snip, and
let loose *The Whammy*. "You will go away, and forget you know
anything at all about vampires!" he said, his voice echoing strangely,
"You will go *very* far away."

Kelly stopped talking, looking puzzled, and shook her head slightly as
if she were dizzy. LaCroix looked very pleased with himself--a look
that abruptly disappeared as Kelly continued, "Don't be silly, I'm not
going anywhere." She shoved the paper at him again. "And in this part,
you run into Nick years later..."

<Can she be a resister?> he asked himself incredulously, as the mortal
babbled on. <*I* should be able to get through to *anyone*...> His
eyes narrowed as he regarded the slight figure across the table from
him. "You will listen to me," he growled in full whammy-mode. "You
will do as I say..." he continued, leaning forward, his eyes fixed on
the blue eyes behind the glasses, his full will brought to bear on the
poor unfortunate creature.

***

It took some probing, but LaCroix finally seemed to have stumbled on
the reason for the odd...er, odder-than-normal behaviour of the
NatPackers.

"Natalie told me to talk to you," Kelly said, her gaze fixed glassily
on the eyes above her, shining like pale blue stars. "Natalie said..."

"Yes?"

"I was telling her about somebody writing 'Natalie loves LaCroix' on
your car--"

LaCroix made a choking sound, but Kelly continued unabated, "and then
I showed her some of my Valentine fiction--"

Another strangled roar from the Old Guy punctuated her tale, but she
was lost deep in the throes of a flashback...

***

"I'm glad that you've stopped trying to foist odd drinks on everyone,"
Nat smiled at Kelly, who shrugged in reply.

"Well, after you said that you didn't want any more, I..." she paused,
puzzled for a moment, then shrugged again, "I just didn't feel like
making them anymore."

"So she's just foisting her fiction on everybody instead," Mei
snickered.

Indeed, Nat could not help chuckling gently at the latest story which
her friend was working on. About her and LaCroix, no less! There was
something very...odd about the notion. "You should try showing that
stuff to LaCroix," she laughed. Her eyes sparkled, and, with Kelly
seemingly lost in thought--or a daze--she turned to Mei and said
conversationally, "You know, as much as he sometimes intimidates me,
there's still something very... *exciting* about playing cat-and-mouse
with him. You're never quite so alive as when death is imminent."
Kelly and Mei both shivered, feeling the thrill of Nat's fear and
passion at that memory.

Lost in her thoughts, Nat did not notice Kelly muttering, "I should
try showing that stuff to LaCroix" while Mei chanted tonelessly, "Cat-
and-mouse..."

***

LaCroix could feel the pressure these words had imprinted on the
impressionable young mind. He hissed, startled. <Natalie! *She* has
the power?!> He frowned ominously as he considered this fact.

His initial reaction was fury that a mere mortal (and Natalie Lambert
at that!) should have the Power. He was going to unzap them
immediately, especially that impetuous one who constantly argued with
him and this one writing all those stories involving him and the good
Doctor. (He must remember to make copies of some of those stories
before he sent the ladies on their way.) The other could keep her
cleaning fetish. Especially if she finished up here first. Good
cleaning help is so hard to find.

As he was about to start, LaCroix hesitated. Really, if Natalie
Lambert had this gift, the situation could be quite interesting. One
merely needed to look at the three examples before him.  He smiled
slightly, contemplating the scene if Natalie ever got near dear
Nicholas.

The results would be most entertaining.

***

"Hey, guys!" Betsy called from down the hall as the three NatPackers,
more than a little dazed by their encounter, wandered out of LaCroix's
office. "Did you see LaCroix?"

"Um...did we see LaCroix?" Mei asked fuzzily.

"Yeah, we saw LaCroix," Kelly said, looking about her distractedly.
She was *sure* that she had brought something in with her. Now what
was it?

Maureen, busy scrubbing the hall outside LaCroix's door, said "We
ought to get going. I'm sure that everybody is making a huge mess back
at the hostel."

Betsy, exhausted from her long night and lack of sleep, just shrugged.
"Okay, let's get out of here."


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


Peace Offering
by Rebecca Tanner and the N&NPack
Monday Aug.5/96         12pm
N&NPack Headquarters
Directly following The Cowleaders Cry of Surprise (01/03)

"Okay everybody, listen up."  Laura said.  "We've been contacted by
the Cousins and they're willing to call a truce on that whole AMEX
card thing if we give them a hand with a project they're working on.
Mel and I talked it over and agreed."

"We don't know exactly what they have planned, but we wanted to let
you know so you would be prepared when the time comes,"  Mel said.

"Laura, do you think it might be a good idea to give the Cousins a
truce gift?"  Rebecca asked.  "That way they might be nicer to us when
we help them."

"Did you have anything in mind?"  Laura asked.

"Well, do we still have that tape of Nightcrawler monologs?"

"Yes."

"I thought maybe we could transcribe them and present a bound copy to
the Cousins, they actually seem to enjoy that stuff."

"Are you sure you're up to it?"

"I know it won't be pleasant, but in the interest of the N&NPack, I'm
willing to make the sacrifice."

Armed with a walkman, her ergonomic keyboard, a glass of water, and a
bottle of asprin, Rebecca marched into the computer room.  It was a
dirty job, but for the sake of the cause it had to be done.

She set her things down next to the computer, disconnected the old
keyboard and plugged in her own.  As she waited for the computer to
power up she opened the bottle and took out an asprin.  <Better safe
than sorry> she thought as she swallowed it.  Taking a deep breathe,
she inserted the tape in the walkman, adjusted the headphones, and
pressed play.

The Nightcrawler's voice whispered in her ear and she tried to repress
a shudder, but it was no use.  <Why do people listen to this?
Voluntarily even!>  Her face settled into a grimace of distaste as she
started typing.

<Three down, how many to go?  Too many that's for sure.  I should have
taken two asprin.>  Rebecca thought as she rubbed her temples, trying
to relieve the pain.

Sometime later:
Rebecca jumped when the tape reached the end and automatically turned
off. She sighed and stretched.  Her eyes were itching and burning.
<I'm blinking so much I must look like Vachon.  Halfway there.  You're
halfway there. Remember, in love and faith there is forever, in love
and faith there is forever.  Nick and Nat, Nick and Nat, Nick, Nat,
NickNatNickNat.  Gotta keep the faith.  Gotta take some more asprin.
NickNatNickNatNickNatNickNat.>

Even later:
Rebecca stared at the screen in a daze looking at the message:  Spell
check complete, no errors found.  <I've done it.  I have actually
listened to a whole tape of Nightcrawler monologs and survived.  He
really isn't that bad. Depressing, yes.  Horribly wrong in many of his
assertions, yes.  But that voice.  Not bad.  Not bad at all.  Now
let's get this sucker printed before I collapse.>

A short time later:
Rebecca staggered out of the computer room carrying a stack of paper
which she promptly heaved onto the counter.

"Done.  All done.  Need FK.  Need to watch Nick and Nat.  Help!"  She
stood with a glassy eyed look waiting for something, anything.  She
wasn't sure exactly what but she could no longer even care.

Kevin looked at her with concern,  "Are you okay?"

"Huh?" She said as she stood and blinked at him.

The N&NPackers exchanged concerned looks.  Something was wrong.  They
had to find out how what.

"Do Nick and Nat belong together?"  Laura asked.

"I, I ... don't know,"  Rebecca replied in a flat tone.

Her fellow N&NPackers recognized her stunned and disoriented state was
due to listening too much to Lacroix.  A dangerous thing.  Quick
action must be taken to restore order and hope to her life.

Rebecca was gently led to the living room and given the remote control
so that she could watch the "good parts" version of her favorite
episodes and fast forward through the boring bits, like Lacroix.
Soon, she would be back to normal.

Erin checked on her fifteen minutes later  a only to find Rebecca with
a glassy eyed stare and blank face. Half an hour later Erin came back
during N&N kissing scene only to find her wearing a look that can only
be described as disgust. Two hours later Erin came back again and was
surprised to see a look of determination on Rebecca's face.

Laura walked into the room a short time later and watched Rebecca
react to the end of Let No Man Tear Assurender. Rebecca was saying
"Come on kissing her. Do it." Laura smiled and aked rebecca the one
question that would decide if she was alright, "What is the N&NPack
slogan?" Rebecca jumped up and down as she responded "In Love and
Faith There is Forever!". Laura laughed, "Welcome back!".


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


Stores and Pooches and Thongs - Oh MY!!!
by Cousin Julie and Cousin LuDia
Date: Monday August 5, 1996
Time: 1:00 PM EST
Place: CERK HQ


Cousin Julie and Cousin LuDia had been hanging around at CERK, doing
very little since the 'bringing across' of the Knightie now known as
Cousin Angie.  Jules and Lu were sitting in the lobby when they
suddenly looked at each other and exclaimed at the same moment, "Dog
Walk!".

Lu leashed up her Tazmanian Pomeranian, affectionately called 'Taz'
and prepared him for a nice long walk.  Jules grabbed her two leashes,
one for Watson, her killer Jack Russell, and another for Devo, a very
stylish and handsome Whippet.  With the three dogs now properly
'dressed' for an outing, Jules and Lu headed out.

"Lu," Jules said after they had walked a block or so, "what do you
think about us getting a present for Uncle, just for his hospitality?"

"It may take awhile - you know how hard he is to buy for," Lu
answered.  "Of course, it's not as though we have to be back in a
hurry."

"That's a great idea, Jules.  We can window shop while we exercise our
pooches!," Lu replied.

The two Cousins, dressed in their black, silk Chanel dresses, and
patent leather heels walked their pooches down the street window
shopping and chit-chatting between themselves.  They passed by
Victoria's Secret where Lu elbowed Jules in the side and pointed up at
the purple thong in the window. (Hmmmm...Would Victoria's Secret have
that?  I keep thinking some well-known store would, but which one?!)

"Don't even take me in there," said Jules as she gave Lu a tiny push
away from her.

"Awwwwww, c'mon.....," whined Lu, "Uncle would look sooooo..."

"Knock it off, Lu.  I said  I don't want to go in there.  I like Uncle
in his everyday black.  It makes him look so..... distinguished,"
Jules replied as she cut off Lu in mid-sentence.

"Ohhhh, all right," Lu sighed hanging her head.

"Ohhh c'mon, Lu - buck up.  Just because I don't see Uncle that way,
doesn't mean *you* can't see him any way you want."

Lu thought for a moment, then perked up as she exclaimed, "Oooooo!
Whipped cream... <mmmmpppfff>"

Jules quickly covered Lu's mouth with her hand not wanting to hear
anymore of Lu's deviated sex dreams regarding Uncle.  "Enough Lu -
think all you want - but don't verbalize it!... OK????"

"Yeah, okay..."

The two continued walking down the street companionably, looking into
this window, then that window, and occasionally looking at the other
side of the street.  And of course, like the good Cousins that they
were, they kept their eyes peeled for any sign of the other factions.
They didn't want to be surprised.

Soon they happened upon a small convenience store.

"Hey, Jules!   You thirsty??"

"Yes, Lu, but why don't we walk over to  the King Eddie?  I'd like to
take a rest, and you know things are up to more of a Cousinly standard
there."

"Sounds good to me.  It *is* harder to walk the children in high
heels, isn't it?" Lu said, grinning.  "Just let me run in here for a
sec.   Hold Taz for me, will ya?"

"Sure Lu - no problem."

Lu went into the convenience store and looked for her intended
purchase.  A small box near the cash register caught her eye.  She
looked at the box, thought for a moment, then smiled.  It was a very
wicked Cousinly smile.  Lu picked up the small box and checked out,
then headed out of the store and back to where she had left Jules and
the pooches.

"Look what I found!!" Lu said in a very excited voice and held up the
box for Jules to see.

"What are you going do with *that*?"

"Bake some brownies, of course."

"Oh, Lu!!  *That's* funny!!!  You are *so* wicked.  That's why I like
you so much!  Who are they for?"

"I'll tell you later.  C'mon!  Let's go for tea, then get the pooches
back to CERK!"

The two Cousins walked very quickly, half-dragging their pooches in
their hurry.


<to be continued>......


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


Deep Dip... and Lots of Beer
by Catherine Boone, Dianne deSha, and Perri Smith
takes place 1pm, 8/5.


Dianne walked purposefully into the restaurant.  Not as high-class a
place as she usually met people in, this was just a burger place,
where the beer was on tap... she tried not to wrinkle her nose as she
scanned the room, looking for Catherine and Perri.

Finding them, she walked over to their table and stood over them for a
moment, using her height to her advantage.  "You wanted to meet with
me?" she asked smoothly.

"Yes," Perri replied, moving to give her room at their booth.
"Please, have a seat."

A waitress appeared out of nowhere at just the right time (don't you
*wish* they would do that?), and Dianne gave her her order, waiting
till she was safely out of earshot before she turned back to the
Knightie co-leaders.  "So, who is it, and what do you want done with
them?"  She wasn't usually quite so abrupt with paying customers, but
she really didn't want to hang around with these two, when she'd just
earned some good hard cash attacking Nick.

The two exchanged glances, and Catherine spoke.  "We didn't bring you
here to hire you."

Dianne looked sharply down at her, really *not* wanting to deal with
this right now... "Really."

"Yes, really," Perri piped in, her voice sharp.  "We know what you
did, Dianne."

"And we want to know who paid you to do it."  Their act of finishing
each other's sentences was really disconcerting when they did it too
quickly, it was like watching a mental tennis match.

Dianne sighed.  This was not worth her time, even if they *were*
paying for her lunch, and she said so.

Catherine grinned.  "Yeah, we figured you'd feel that way..."  She
absently swirled her drink, apparently lost in thought.  Dianne wasn't
even beginning to be fooled, and she mentally checked the knife in her
boot, just in case.  "So we got the idea to offer you some
*chocolate*..."

Dee blinked, and stared blankly at the two dressed totally *nasty* in
front of her.  Gawd, and were they wearing, like, *no* makeup at
*all*? But one smiled at her, and said "Hey, Dee, are you like okay?
You're still up to the *total* calorie-fest with Per an' me, right?"
Well, she might dress totally gnarly, but at least she *sounded*
right...

Perri stared open-mouthed at Catherine and Dianne.  Blink.  <Dee?
*Per*? Who the heck is Dee, and *what* is with the sudden accent?>

Catherine grinned at her from ear to ear.  "And no calorie-fest is
complete without beer, right, Per?"  Impossibly, her face stretched
wider.

And then it struck her... a conversation she'd had with Cath a few
days ago, a revenge that had them both *howling*... she smiled back.
"Oh, you, like, *know* it, Cat.  Yo, *dude*!" she flagged down a
waiter, and giggled up at him.  "Could we have, like, three beers?"
She giggled again at the look he gave her.

"How many have you had?" he cautiously asked.

Dee rolled her eyes at him.  "Tch!  I am like, *so sure*!  We haven't
had, like, *any*!"  She got the distinctive lip curl.  "Gawd, like,
get a *life*, dude.  I *swear*..."  That got them all giggling... the
waiter checked his watch.  Three more hours till shift change.

****

(three hours later)

No, the three weren't surrounded by empty beer glasses.  I mean, what
kind of a place do you think this is?  They took away the empty ones,
of course.  As fast as they could, anyway.  Okay, so maybe they *were*
surrounded by empty beer glasses.  Who notices these things?

Dee was deep in her life history, only hiccuping slightly.  "So, like,
my friend Buffy, well she used to, like, go out with this *awesome*
guy who worked, like, at a, like, restaurant, you know?  I mean, like,
he washed other people's *dishes*! I mean like *barf me out*! That is
so totally *grody*, you know?"  'Per' and 'Cat' nodded
sympathetically.

"But, so, like, _anyway_, he tells her like, what people, like, leave
on their plates. Like I'm *so* sure! And then she's like freaking out
*totally* and going 'Ewwwwwwww! Like gag me with a _spoon_!' And so,
like, I don't know, but he's going, like, on and _on_ about, like,
this totally *grody* stuff and she's going, like 'Grody to the max!
Barf *out*!' "

"Gawd, that is, like, so *gross*!  How do you *live*?" Catherine
replied, covering for Perri, who was still having problems getting
into Valley Girl.  It'd been a year since she'd lived in SoCal, so she
needed to find the right mental gear before she could really get into
it, compared to Catherine, who'd lived there the past three years.
Catherine gloated over finally finding a language she actually knew
better than Perri, silently of course.

Besides, Perri was covering beer duty, keeping Dee's glass full at all
times.  Which was proving to be a full-time job, as it turned out.
She almost felt bad making Dee do all the talking, when she should be
busy drinking... but somehow she managed to be doing both quite fine,
and Catherine wasn't *that* good at Valley Girl...

Perri ventured a simple sentence, "So, have you, like, tried the
shopping here yet?"

And that got her going again.  "Well, like, I mean, I checked out
your, like, Galleria here, but, like, there's no, like, *Contempo*! So
I'm just, like, *totally* freaking out, going completely mental, you
know? Like when, I don't know, I see this, like, place where you can,
like, get you nails done and everything? And so, like, I go, like,
"Awesome! This is just, like, so *totally* bitchin'!" OK fine, so I,
like, go in? And there's this, like, totally, like, *space cadet*
woman there!  So, like, she asks me if I, like, have an *appointment*!
And I go, oh *right*! I'm just like, I'm sure! No way! And her hair,
'cuz, you know, they, like, did hair and stuff there too, you know?
Like it was totally _short_? And I go to her, like, 'Bag *that* head!'
Then she, like, asks why I'm, like, talking funny. And I'm, like, *so
sure*! Like, that is so, you know, totally, like, *bogus*! Like,
what's wrong with the way I, like, talk, you know? Like, she was just,
like, freaking me out, like, *totally*!" I mean, I go, like, well,
people up here, like, talk *really*, like, funny! You know, I tried to
get, like, a, like, Diet Coke, and like, the guy, at the counter,
like, he, like says I'm, like, a *loony*!  I'm, like, totally
*ohmigawd*! I'm, like, *so* sure! He was, like, you know, *totally*,
like, bummin' me out, you know?"

Catherine and Perri sat, entranced.  Not really by her story, but by
the fact that she could suck down three full glasses of beer while she
was talking.  The girl had a *gift*.

But it was Perri's turn to take a bathroom break and laugh herself
silly in the stall, so Catherine ordered more as she left.  They
needed these breaks from time to time, or they'd seriously lose it and
the game would be off... so they paced themselves.  Catherine was also
thankful of the fact that the more Dee drank, the less she realized
they *didn't*. Because even sharing their drinks, the two were getting
slightly hazy.

"You know, it's, like, I've always, like, you know, _wanted_ to live
in Encino?  But my folks are, like, going totally, like, 'No way are
we moving to the valley!'  So, okay *fine*, so I'm, like, *so* totally
bummed!  I mean, like, you're, like, *nobody*, if you don't, like,
live in The Valley! I mean, like, so like, how am I supposed to, like,
get to the Galleria? Like, on a *bus*?!?!?! Like, I am *so* sure!!!"

Catherine looked sorrowful and pouted on command.  She was beginning
to seriously consider banning the word "like" permanently from her
hearing in the loft.  Perri'd back it, yeah...

"And, like, you know, like, my *name*?  It's, like, 'Dee'? But it's,
like, not *really* 'Dee'.  It's really, like, you know, 'Dianne', and
like some totally *gross* guy at the, like, mall?  He like comes to me
and he, like, goes, like, 'That's like a goddess.' And I go, like,
'Like, I'm the Goddess of, like, the Galleria!'"  She giggled.  "And,
like, he, like just laughs? But he's, like not buff at all, he's like
this, like total, *nerd*!"  The giggles turn to real laughter.  "Like,
I go, oh *right*! Barf *out*! And he's, like, it's this, like, total
*bummer*? But, I mean, he's, like, this, total *nerd*! I am *so* sure!
No way!" Dee was laughing hysterically, so out of control she could
barely keep talking.

Perri made her way back from the bathroom, and saw Dee about to fall
out of the booth, so she scooted in and blocked her from diving to the
floor.

"Are we done?" Catherine looked at Perri, then at the still hysterical
Dee.

"I think so."

"Hey, Dee?"  She looked up at Cat, still shaking uncontrollably with
laughter.  "Goldfish."

Have you ever started laughing, and not really known what made you
start, or not remembered what the joke was?  Dianne was having one of
those moments.  Well, whatever it was, it was pretty hysterically
funny... she snickered softly as she straightened, and rubbed her
eyes.

"Dianne?"

"Mmmm?" she sighed, her eyes still closed.

"You remember that brick you tossed at Nick the other night, don't
you?"

She fell into a fit of giggles.  Catherine and Perri were concerned a
moment, but it wasn't Dee resurfacing.  Their plan had worked: Dianne
the Lofty Merc was totally and completely schnockered.  The two smiled
at each other.  Perfect.

Meanwhile, Dianne was mumbling something about the look on Nick's face
when he got bonked... not to mention the one when he figured out he
was Duncan MacLeod... she fell back into uncontrollable snickering.

Perri leaned close.  "Who was it, Dianne?  Who gave you the idea?"

Dianne frowned vaguely.  "Swear... Lisa's got the worst handwriting on
earth..."

Perri and Catherine glanced at each other.  Lisa.  Great.  That
narrows it down to only half the list.  Thanks, Dianne.

"... if she'd cut down on those Beachcombers, I might've been able to
decipher it better..."

Ahh.  *That* Lisa.  The two exchanged a triumphant smile... when they
heard a strange sound coming from beneath them.  They looked back
down.

Dianne was snoring.  On the floor.

"Truly, a Kodak moment."

"Funny you should mention that..."

Well, they managed to lean/carry/drag Dianne to the sidewalk and
shovel her into a taxi without *too* much trouble.

They did a high five as the cab drove away.  "Success!"

"Like, for sure, dude!"

"Don't go there, Perri."

"Right."


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


Sorting Socks (1/1)
by Tigon Diana Hooker/AlphaWoof o' WoofPack
Monday/5 AUG 1996/3pm
Toronto, FG Mansion

"Thanks for helping me sort the socks, Becky."

The long-haired woman shoved her glasses back off the tip of her nose
and smiled at Tigon. "Glad to help...good thing you labelled each pair
so that you knew which socks to return where."

Tigon nodded as she examined each bin. "Well, I really didn't want to
keep the socks...just borrow them for a bit."

"I can't believe you arranged all that just to play a practical joke."

Smiling fondly at the memory of Cherri buried under the pile of socks,
Tigon nodded, "Yup, been planning it for months now...almost as soon
as I left Cherri's party. I owe Lizbet a lifetime of fencing lessons
for setting up the theft...er...borrowings."

Steve walked in and Tigon nearly jumped out of her skin. "Hey," he
said, "It's just me."

"Sorry, I'm just know Cherri's gonna try to get me back."

"Yeah, well...she just might wait until you both get back to L.A.,"
grinned Steve.

Tigon gave him a baleful look, "Thanks for the comforting thought."
She then straightened up and looked at them both, "Oh, by the way,
Lizbet's asked us for some help on a merc job of hers."

Becky smiled, "What is she paying us?"

"I figure it never hurts to have something on account," answered
Tigon. "So we'll need to be ready by 3am tomorrow...we're bringing all
the dogs, so I think I'll need you to go rent another van, Steve."

"Why don't I take back the one we have and rent a truck instead?"

Tigon considered, "No, let's keep the vans. That way we can split up
if necessary. Afterwards I'm going to be staying with Lizbet. I
probably won't be back til' evening."

"Is Maryann coming?" asked Becky.

"Yeah...I want to take all the mortal pups, too. They could come in
handy since we'll be cutting it close to dawn." Bundling up the rest
of the socks, Tigon sighed, "I guess returning these will have to wait
until Wednesday."


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


Stores and Pooches and Thongs - Oh MY!!! (2/3)
by Cousin Julie and Cousin LuDia
Date: Monday August 5, 1996
Time: 3:00 PM EST
Place: King Edward Hotel


As Cousin Lu and Cousin Julie drank their tea in the splendor of the
King Edward Hotel, Lu said, "Look!  Isn't that Cousin June coming
through the doors?"

"You're right, Lu!" Jules said, stopping her hand midway to the cake
tray. "I guess great minds think alike."

The two Cousins waved in an enthusiastic but dignified manner and
caught June's attention.

"Well, what are you two up to?" June asked as she took a seat across
from Lu and Julie and gave each of the dogs a pat on the head.

"Plotting, of course," the two Cousins replied simultaneously, then
grinned a wicked Cousinly grin at her.

"Oooo!  I want to join in!" Cousin June said.  "Exactly *what* are we
going to do and to whom???"

"Well, June," began Lu, "an awful lot of people have been having fun
at the Cousins *and* Uncle's expense lately.  We just thought it was
time for a subtle counterattack of sorts."

"And????" June asked, now grinning as evilly as her companions.

"Come closer and we'll tell you," Jules said, motioning so that the
three drew their heads closer together.


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


Lisa Takes The Pledge
by Lisa McDavid

Monday, Aug. 5th, 3:30 p.m.

NOTE: this is intended to be permanent. Please, from now on, don't
write my persona as drunk or drinking. Thanks.

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

Lisa McDavid hunched up against the pillows in her room at CERK.
Lacroix had hypnotized away the hangover, but he hadn't taken the
memory of the d.t.'s. Pink elephants she wouldn't have minded. A
miniature marching band such as an alcoholic cousin of hers used to
see (yes, really) might at least have been pleasant. But a nightmare
about being arrested by Stonetree, who wasn't even the Captain for
CERK's precinct, for breaking into a US military computer ....

No. Never again. Lisa slipped into a kneeling position by the bed,
folded her hands, and took a solemn oath never to drink anything
stronger than soda pop again. Then she made the sign of the cross over
herself, climbed back into bed, and fell into a dreamless sleep.


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


Caffeine Cures Cadavers and Conundrums  pt 2/2
by Spifff, Lana Soward, AJ, Sarah Chodrow and Diane E. (unaffiliated),
with permission from 'Dona' Torrey, (VAQ) and Sara Orel (merc).
Place: Vachon's Church
Day: 5 August 1996
Time: 5:00 pm

With a contented smile on her face and stars in her eyes, Sara
approached the front door of the church. She simply floated through
the flock of geese oblivious to the cacophony they were raising, the
nips they were taking at her legs and the goose poo covering the
ground and her shoes. She smartly beat a little tattoo on the door.

Torrey peered through the spyhole, then opened the door. "Hi. Special
delivery for one 'Dona' Torrey," Sara sang, waving the envelope in
Torrey's face. Torrey accepted it with a grimace and closed the door
in Sara's face. Yet another problem seemed to be manifesting itself.
Some days you just don't get a break, Torrey sighed reflectively.
Owing to her present state of bliss, Sara didn't even notice that
Torrey had neglected to tip her.

Torrey opened the envelope warily and dumped the contents on a pew
jumping back as they hit its surface. Several photographs and a note
slide out and stuck to some silly string still adhering to the pew
seat. The photographs showed two very familiar piles of disturbed
earth and some poorly laid sod. On the crumpled sheet of foolscape,
scrawled in blue crayon, she read:

"Dear 'Dona' Torrey,
When we visited the site of Diane's attack we discovered the remains
you see in the enclosed photographs. We really need to talk about
this. Please meet us in the Brabant exhibit tomorrow at noon.
Sincerely, Friends of Diane E.


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


"Wait, What Did He Say?"  Stealing Vamps, Part Two of Four
By Elizabeth Ann Lewis
Monday, August 4, later in the afternoon
University of Toronto

"Ugh," Kristina said, looking at the vampire currently raging in the
recording booth.  "HIM?"

Lizbet grinned.  "You wanted to study the languages vampires use
throughout the ages.  Screed is a perfect test case."

"But... but...," Kristina protested, then sighed.  "OK, let's get
cracking."  She flipped the switch on the sound board that started the
recording and let them hear Screed.  "You know the drill," she told
Lizbet.

"Name?" Lizbet read off the questionaire.

"Screed."  They worked their way through the questionaire and went on
to the list of words.

Lizbet put down the sheet.  "Something is wrong here.  This is too
easy. He sounds like he is speaking perfect English!"

Kristina chewed her lip for a second, thinking.  "Wait, I know!"  She
took the mic.  "Screed, if you could speak extemporaneously for
awhile."

"Ex-temper-WAT?"

"Just talk about anything you like.  We'll listen."

Five minutes later Kristina was happily taking notes and Lizbet's eyes
were glazed over.  "See?" Kristina asked.  "It isn't the individual
words, it's how they're put together!"

Lizbet nodded blankly.  "Wait, what did he say?  What's he talking
about?"

"Hmmm, he seems to be ranting about a vampire rat..."


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


An Unexpected Encounter
by Raven Jane Credland
Date:  August 5, 1996 at 7:00 p.m.
Place:  The Raven


Grabbing a diet coke from behind the bar, Jane wandered aimlessly
through the Raven.  She nodded at the few Raven/ettes and other
patrons that she knew, but didn't stop to converse.  The war had made
it impossible for her to relax; restlessness had set in.  Retrieving
her book from the back room, she searched for privacy.

Unfortunately, privacy was a rare commodity at the Raven.  Every room
she tried contained at least one person.  Finally, all other avenues
exhausted, she opened the door to Janette's office.  It was blessedly
empty.  Promising herself that she would leave long before sunset,
when Janette would need the room, Jane snuck in and curled up in a
wing chair that stood with its back to the desk, near the shuttered
window.

The silence was incredible.  Flipping open her book, Jane finally
relaxed and lost herself in the story.  It was so soothing that she
fell asleep. She was still sleeping an hour or so later when the door
to the office opened and Janette DuCharme came in.

The vampire should have heard the mortal's heartbeat, and probably
would have if she hadn't been so obsessed with avoiding her other
mortal followers who seemed to have taken up residence in every corner
of the club.  There was one in particular who apparently had no fear
... Janette forcefully stopped herself from following that thought to
its conclusion.  She shut the door quietly, locking it behind her, and
moved to the desk.

Janette removed a small leather-covered notebook from her purse and
looked at it thoughtfully.  She'd been carrying it around with her for
a while, but hadn't decided what to do with it.  It wasn't hers.  It
belonged to Nicolas.

She had run into her errant Master unexpectedly in a club in Montreal
a couple of months ago.  They hadn't exchanged more than a few terse
words. He'd seemed strangely diffident and morose.  She'd shoved him
away when he started to speak and, for once, Nicolas had simply left
without explanations or recriminations.  The book had fallen out of
his jacket pocket.  She'd meant to return it to him but, then again,
first she'd have to make an attempt to find out where he'd gone when
he disappeared.  Truth be told, Janette admitted to herself, she
hadn't given much more than a passing thought to it  -- having an
absent Master had been a pleasurable change.  It was far better than
being expected to drop everything and cater to Nicolas' every whim.

//Men!// Janette snorted and slapped the book down on the desk,
breaking the lock.  It fell open, and she soon became engrossed in
translating the coded contents.

The noise startled Jane awake.  She peeked around the chair back and
saw Janette at the desk. //Now what?// She thought helplessly.  //I
can't sit here and wait for her to leave.  She's bound to hear the
beating of my heart eventually.  Besides, what's the worst she can do
to me ... other than drain me dry.//

Swallowing hard, Jane marshalled her shredded courage, cleared her
throat noisily and stood up.  "Uh... hello.  I ... I thought ... I
didn't mean to fall asleep ... at least ..."  Her voice trailed away
as the vampire raised her head and stared.

Janette cursed herself for not checking the room before getting out
the book.  However, one did not apologize to mere humans.  So, she
waited for the explanation that was bound to ensue.

Jane edged towards the door.  "Look, I didn't mean to invade your
privacy. I just wanted some peace and quiet.  I'll leave you alone.
Okay?"

"Arrete.  Stop."  Janette beckoned the mortal closer.  "I don't
believe we've been introduced.  You are new, n'est-ce pas?"

"Yes, I'm new.  My name's Jane.  I was a Die Hard until Cynthia,
Felicia and Catherine decided that I made a much better Raven."  Jane
found herself standing in front of the desk.  Unwilling to meet
Janette's gaze for more than a few moments, she looked down -- at a
notebook filled with numbers and unreadable characters (made even more
unreadable by the simple fact that she was looking at them upside
down).

"Ah, yes.  Now I remember you."  Noticing where Jane's eyes were
directed, Janette closed the notebook decisively.  "You are the one
with the obsession over the chains."

Jane blushed -- not the ordinary kind of blush, but the kind that only
a few blondes are unlucky enough to be cursed with.  It started at her
scalp and slowly spread down towards her toes, turning every visible
(and most invisible) parts of her body bright red.  To make matters
worse, as soon as she realized what was happening, she got even more
embarrassed and blushed harder.  She groaned audibly and covered her
face with her hands.

The vampire watched the phenomenon curiously.  She was rarely
privileged to see such a reaction.  It was interesting and rather
enticing.  So much blood ...

"Get out!"  Janette snapped, feeding on one's followers was not a good
idea.

Jane fumbled briefly with the lock on the door, and then was outside
the office.  She leaned her back against the wall and breathed deeply,
wanting to regain her composure before rejoining the others.

Inside, Janette filled a crystal goblet from a bottle in the small
fridge hidden behind a carved wooden panel.  She drained the glass
greedily and filled it again, then took the glass and bottle back to
the desk and returned to her translation.


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


Shopping Maneuvers
by Christina Kamnikar w/the Urchins (the Morrigna, Dawn the Merc,
Felicia, Spifff! and Bonnie la Vaquera)
Monday, August 5, 7:15 PM
The Raven, and other parts of Toronto
Follows <<insert last Urs post here>>  :>


Being an Aunt wasn't actually so bad. For instance, if Chris weren't
Auntie Christina to the Morrigna, she wouldn't have gotten the really
good black leather skirt as a commission for being Urs's shopping
consultant.


erica and Bianca had stopped by Merc Central via Rich, Dark and
Mysterious to take Chris to Mickey D's in gratitude for bailing them
out, and getting them good legal counsel. None of the charges against
them had stuck, mostly because while they undoubtedly *had* hijacked
the transmitter, the physical proof had gone BOOM.  The political
treason and riot incitement charges were dropped in the subsequent
confusion over the source of the transmission.  The Morrigna had been
sound asleep when the weird calls for government overthrow were made,
so they were released into Chris's custody, despite Captain Reese's
opinion of her mental stability.


Over salads and chocolate shakes her ersatz relatives had been unable
to keep the news of Urs's resurrection to themselves. And faced with
Chris's blatant skepticism, they'd dragged her back to the Raven with
them, just to prove their story.


"I'll be... damned." Chris stared at Urs, conscious, healed, and
sporting one of Janette's cast-off black velvet dresses as she served
drinks at the Raven. "She *is* alive. That's great! I always thought
she got a raw deal."


Felicia nodded in agreement, but still appeared worried. "She doesn't
remember who she is, though. And she's completely directionless---if
we don't do something about her soon, Urs will end up more mindless
than Alma."

"That's not possible," Dawn stated, sipping her drink. "Nature abhors
an absolute vacuum."

"She needs a life."

"She needs a purpose."

"She needs a haircut," Felicia muttered, studying the reanimated
blonde's tight, corkscrew curls. "Let's face it, giving her a life and
a purpose might be beyond us. But the least we can do is give her some
options. And a new wardrobe. Bimbo Chic is out, guys."

"So, let's do the easy stuff first," Spifff suggested. "Work from the
outside in. A makeover will help her attitude, and we can clue her in
to some of her options while we shop."

"And where is this money supposed to come from?" Chris asked warily.
She was doing well this War, but not *that* well.

erica smiled evilly. Chris shuddered. "I was asking her about that...
and she doesn't remember much, but we did manage to find where she
used to crash when she wasn't here. And guess what we found hidden in
the fridge?" She waved a black bankbook under the noses of the other
Urchins, and Dawn's and Chris's eyes lit up, smelling money. "She can
afford to buy a new wardrobe. Actually, Urs can afford to buy several
new wardrobes for all of us, but we'll start with her---"

"If we help her shop, Dawn and I should get a commission. One article
of clothing for every ten she buys," Chris interrupted.

Felicia sniffed. "You Mercs dress to blend into the woodwork, you're
not exactly fashion *experts*---"

"So we'll all go," erica said. "Between the six of us, we should give
her enough ideas and clothes so that she's not trapped in Madonna
Wanna-be Limbo."


Urs frowned in confusion at the clothes in the small boutique that
Chris and Dawn had dragged her into. "These aren't like... most of my
clothes," she said doubtfully, blue eyes clouded.

"Exactly."

"Why buy what you already have?" Dawn said, ignoring Felicia's eye-
rolling. "This stuff is for professional women. Business women.
Serious women."

"Seriously _boring_," Felicia muttered.

"No, no, no. Not boring. Red is not boring. Bright blue is not boring.
Silk is never, ever boring," Chris said, glaring at the Ravenette.
"Just because you're not showing six inches of thigh or cleavage down
to the navel doesn't mean it isn't sexy. But these clothes are for
someone who's into subtlety.  Yes, you're cute. But you do have a
mind."

"Uh-hunh," Urs said, twirling one curl around her finger. "But, umm...
What am I doing that's so serious?"

"Nothing yet," Dawn said, ushering her into a dressing room, and
passing clothes in to her. "What do you want to do?"

"I don't know," floated back over the door. "Just, you know... be
happy, somehow. I don't know what I'm good at."

"You're a good singer," Bianca pointed out, throwing a dark green
pantsuit over the divider to the vampire. "And you have good instincts
about people." At the blatant stares of the other Urchins, she said
defensively, "Well, she *does*. She just doesn't react very well.
Self-destructive habits. But Urs can learn."

"Psychologist," Dawn suggested.

"Singer," erica commented.

"Stock manager," Felicia said. "You guys didn't look at that bankbook
carefully enough... she's been picking winners for years."

"Really?" Chris cocked her head. "Maybe I should ask her about my
retirement fund. Urs, have you found anything you want?"

"Uh-hunh," came the uncertain reply. "I can get anything I like,
right? Even if you don't like it?"

"Well... yeah," Dawn said, wincing in anticipation of something awful.
"But we really want you to get some practical things too, Urs."

"I like this stuff best so far," Urs said softly, opening up the
dressing room door.

The Urchins stared in shock and relief. Black Levi's, a loose silver
silk tank, a red-and-black patterned short jacket, with grey leather
boots and silver jewelry, made Urs look almost like a normal person.
She looked like an undercover cop, one pretending to be a TV director;
or a laid-back record producer; or a grad student who'd just gotten
her income tax return. An MTV producer, not a faceless back-up singer.
Granted, she was still vampire-sexy and undead-beautiful, but no one
would automatically assume she was a boy toy at first glance.

"You've got terrific taste," Spifff said, grinning. "Maybe you should
be a fashion designer."


The rest of the evening progressed easily, with Urs taking suggestions
from her keepers on her clothes, and continual bolstering of her
fragile self-image alternating with brain-storming on what direction
her unlife could take from this point. "Face it, Urs. You've got a
real opportunity here. You can completely start over," Bianca pointed
out, trying on a green velvet top with a blue-and-green long skirt as
Urs tried to choose between black slingbacks and grey flats. "No more
loser boyfriends, no more user twerps, no more non-committal guys. And
no more abusive father figures! You can have your own life without
those creeps."

"I dated creeps?" Urs said plaintively, looking up from her shoe
selections.

"Uh... well, let's just say some of your former guys were kind of on
the pointless side," Christina said diplomatically, admiring how the
black leather skirt she'd picked out make her waist look nonexistent.
"But you don't need them now."

"I don't." The blonde vampire nodded soberly, but her expression was
still confused. "So what kind of guys should I date?"

"Urs, you're missing the point," Felicia sighed, sitting down next to
the woebegone woman. "You don't *have* to date anyone. But if you want
to get involved, it should be with someone who likes _you_. Who wants
to be with you, and thinks you're fine as you are, and won't want to
hurt you."

"Hurt me?" Urs's eyes widened. "Why would I want to be with someone
who'd hurt me?"

"Breakthrough!" Dawn cheered. "I think we have contact, Houston."

"Let's just hope it lasts," erica muttered.


They were on their way out of the mall when Chris spotted the salon.
She grinned at Felicia. "Pinky, are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"Yes, but won't the hamsters get cold?" Felicia riposted, grabbing one
of Urs's arms. "C'mon, sweetheart. This isn't going to hurt a bit."

"What are you going to do to me?" Urs asked, but it wasn't in her
usual scared, helpless voice, but in one almost looking forward to
what these insane friends of hers had planned. Urs wasn't sure, but it
kind of, sort of, felt like she was happy. Having all these people
care about her and want things for her was nice. It didn't feel
familiar, but it was nice.

"Oh, my dears," breathed out the stylist, staring at Urs's Shirley
Temple 'do in horror. "Someone got stuck in the eighties, didn't
they?"

"Yes, and now we need a crowbar to unstick her," erica said
authoritatively.

"We need a relaxer on the curls to begin with," Felicia put in.

"And the color has got to go. It doesn't even match her eyebrows,"
Chris pointed out with a grimace.

"Something cool, but feminine," Spifff said.

"Something really different," Bianca added.

"Something that *doesn't* make her look like a bimbo," Dawn concluded.

"Well, let's just see if I have miracle in my bottles here, shall we?"
the stylist responded, sitting a hesitant Urs down next to the sink.
"How about this?" The man held up a bottle, and was met by a unanimous
thumbs-down from the Urchins. "Mmmmm. Well, there's this---" Head-
shaking and gagging noises. "I know. I have it. This!"

"Perfect," erica said, and the others nodded agreement. "The Maureen
Special."


An hour later a strawberry-blonde Urs, curls relaxed into becoming
waves curving around her face, studied herself in the mirror in
fascination. "That's me?" she whispered, looking at her friends in the
mirror. "It's... really different." She giggled softly. "I think I
like it. It's sort of like the hair color of that female FBI agent ...
you know, Scully?"

"You watch X-FILES?" Chris asked in shock, then at the others' glares,
she said, "You watch X-FILES. Of course."

"I really like that show. Mulder's always so nice to Scully, and he
*listens* to her, you know?" Urs sighed in tandem with half of her
audience, none of whom were completely immune to David Duchovny's
charm. "That's the kind of guy I want."

"Don't we all," Felicia commented. "But hey, it's something to shoot
for. Just keep that in mind, the next time some guy with a cell phone
and a good line asks you out. You're holding out for the FBI."

They were outside the mall when Urs suddenly said, "I want to thank
you all for being so concerned about me, and so helpful and
everything. I don't understand why you took the time to *do* all this,
but I really appreciate it." She smiled shyly at the Urchins, who
grinned back as they shouldered their own purchases.

"Think nothing of it. We're just suckers for underdogs, lost causes,
and suicidal survivors." erica shrugged. "If we weren't, we never
would have heard of you in the first place. Let's get back to the
Raven, I want to find out if they've heard anything about a certain
Spanish slacker."


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


COWS: The Cowleaders Cry of Surprise  (02/03)
By: Denise Underwood, Cousin with input by Cherri Munoz, Mel Moser &
Laura MacMillan
Monday August 5, 1996  10pm
Near Vachon's church


The Cousins and the N&N Packers arrived at the rendezvous point where
Cousin Jules was on lookout duty, She had called Denise at CERK when
she saw the two targets leave the church.

"Report Cousin Jules." Denise said brusquely.

"No activity yet, I think they should be returning at any time. What's
the plan?"

"The plan is to grab them as they return to the church." Mel replied

"Right, about a block away. That should be far enough away so as to
not be interrupted by anyone else from Vaq HQ." Denise completed
explaining the plan. "Heather,  do you have your team assembled?" She
asked the N&N packer.

"Aye, aye Ma'am, ready to go!" Heather answered smartly. "Awaiting
your orders!"

The others giggled at the expression on Denise's face. One glare shut
them up. "She always like this Mel?"

"Uh huh." Mel smiled.

"Great, we're in the navy." Denise muttered. "Good, carry on sailor!"
Denise decided if you can't beat em, join em. "And you Cousins might
take note of Heather's attitude, " Denise leveled a piercing stare on
the still smirking Cousins, "there's nothing wrong with showing a
little respect to your mission leaders."

Muttered 'Yah, rights.' could be heard from the Cousins.

Denise sighed, good help was so hard to find these days. "Everyone
know what you are supposed to do?" She watched as the group of Cousins
and N&N packers nodded. "Good, because if any of you screw up you'll
answer to me. And if you think that doesn't sound too bad, just
remember, I will have answered to the General." She glowered at them.
"And I will be so very unhappy!" She warned. Denise was pleased to
note that all smirking had stopped with that particular warning.

Cousin April asked. "Where's Cherri? This is her baby isn't it?"

"Oh yes," said Cousin Dee gleefully, "this is most definitely Cherri's
baby! She has something special planned for them."

"Cherri and Laura will be waiting for us back at the secret sewer
room. Cherri will supervise our guests personally." Denise grinned
wickedly. "She'll make sure our Vaq friends never want to see another
cow ever again!"

"All right, everyone to their positions."  Mel ordered. "It's time."

Denise and Mel watched as their people spread out down the block to
their assigned positions. They were well briefed and well prepared ,
they would make both their affiliations proud.

Mel hugged Denise in excitement, this was going to be fun she thought.
Working with Denise was a nice change of pace. Helping out Cherri, a
fellow wallflower was an added bonus, Cousin or no. Maybe this
experience would convince Denise she belonged with the N&N pack. It
would be nice to get her away from LaCroix's unhealthy influence.  Mel
sighed, it would be difficult but she was determined to try.

Denise and Mel waited in the van listening to their headsets, after
ten minutes they heard Cousin Jules give the code that announced the
targets were in view.

Mel spoke into her mouthpiece. "Heather, targets in sight. Prepare to
engage."

"Aye, aye."

Heather watched as her targets came into view, she whistled the signal
to her team. Silently they came out from behind the trees where they
had been concealed. Heather, April and Tammy took the woman on the
left, while Dee, Shirl and Idalia took the woman  on the right. Moving
in unison they threw sacks over their heads and tied their hands.

"Targets neutralized." Heather radioed in.

Within seconds the group of Cousins and N&N packers had scooped up the
targets and moved them into the van.

"How are they?" asked Mel.

Denise checked them over. "They're fine, madder than wet hens, but
fine." Ignoring the muffled sounds of outrage coming from under the
sacks, she began to issue orders. "Heather, Dee, check them over and
make sure they have no transmission devices or weapons on them."
Denise looked over to April who was in the drivers seat. "April, get
us back to the sewers using the pre-planned route. Shirl, tell the
others to disperse to their own HQ's. Tell them 'well done'."

"I'll contact Cherri and Laura to let them know we are on our way."
said Mel

Denise nodded. "I love it when a plan comes together." she said
contentedly. "LaCroix will be pleased."


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


COW: The Cowleaders Cry of Surprise (03/03)
Author:  Cherri L. Munoz aka Cousin Cherri <cdmunoz@earthlink.net>
         With acknowledgments to: Denise Underwood, Mel Moser, & Laura
McMillian
Date:    Monday, August 5
Time:    10:30 pm
Place:   A Toronto Sewer
----------------------------------
A special thank you goes to Ruthless Cousin Denise aka Denise
Underwood for being the kind of person who really wanted to write a
post which acknowledges that Cousins and N&NPackers could get along.
She did a great job on the first two parts of this series.
=====================

Laura and Cousin Cherri could hear the loud struggles from a mile
away. "It's a good thing we set up shop here, Cuz, because if we
hadn't, we'd have the entire Toronto police after us."

Cherri smirked. "Wouldn't really matter if they did, the General would
handle it. Mind you, he would be annoyed that he'd have to but he
would; nonetheless, handle it."

Laura laughed nervously, "Yeah...that's what I was afraid of."

"LaCroix looks out for his own and since you agreed to come along on
this little adventure, he'll look out for you as well, but a word to
the wise--don't even think about bringing Ruthless Cousin Denise
across to the N&NPack."

Laura's face changed to mock surprise and the word, 'Me' formed on her
lips.

"Don't look so surprised. I saw you talking to her this afternoon.
I..."

The team members carrying the burlap-sacked victims rounded the
corner.

"If you don't release me this instance, I know someone who's tired of
pig's blood and is ready for a good meal," came an enraged cry from
one of the sacks.

Patting what looked like a head inside that sack, Cherri laughed,
"Torrey...Torrey...Torrey...Vachon wouldn't dare make one of us his
lunch. He knows better than to mess with one of LaCroix' Cousins."

"Cherri?!!! Is that you!!!! Let me out of here!!!"

"In a minute dear Torrey...but first... <Heh! Heh! Heh!> Let's do it!"
Cherri shouted in glee.

Mel, April, Heather, and Tammy struggled with Torrey as Idalia, Shirl,
Dee, and Jules handled Sherri. It took some time but in the end both
Torrey and Sherri were tied down to a high-backed chair.

Cousin Jules held up a shirt for all to see. "I love this shirt you
designed, Heather. Black with stark white lettering. It's perfect. And
it was a stroke of brilliance to put, 'I LOVE LaCroix!!!' on the back
and 'Vachon is dead' on the front. He! He! What do YOU think, Torrey
and Sherri?"

"Vachon is not dead!!!" Torrey shouted.

"No, he's not!" screamed Sherri.

Cousin Cherri giggled, "Sure he is...after all, he's a vampire."

Again the teams joined forces; and this time, when the dust settled,
the shirts were on the Vaqueras.

As Laura and Cherri tied hairdresser's capes on Torrey and Sherri, the
semicircle of chairs which were facing the Vaquera leaders was quickly
filled. Uncovering the nearby trays, Cherri said, "We're just going to
have a little fun."

"Let us go!!!" Torrey shouted.

"Not yet, we haven't finished with you," Laura laughed.

As Cherri and Laura began to decorate the Vaquera's faces, ohs, ahs,
and evil laughter echoed in the sewers as each design was completed.

The right cheek was adorned with a white rose bud while the left cheek
got a black one.

Turning to the team, Laura asked, "What else shall we put on their
faces?"

Cousin Denise cried out, "I know!!!! Print, 'I'm a Cousin.' on their
foreheads!!"

"Or better yet!" Mel enthused. "We can put 'In love and faith!' Our
motto! on their foreheads!"

"All right!" Cherri giggled. "We'll put Mel's suggestion on their
foreheads then under the black rose, we'll write, **I'm a** and under
the white rose, we'll write, **Cousin**.

Everyone laughed evilly as Cousin Cherri started to write the words on
Torrey. Laura hesitated a moment to look at her fellow N&NPackers, but
instead of seeing misgiving expressions, all of them were giving her a
**We Scored!** gesture. She shrugged and turned to her victim.

"Please, Laura." Sherri pleaded. "Don't do this."

"Sorry, Sherri...this one's for Cherri."

Cousin Cherri inspected their work for a minute then turned to the
group. "And now...for the finishing touch." She turned Sherri's neck
to one side and painted two white targets, then added a white arrow
which was directed towards the targets and wrote above it...

               Blood from the Source.
                    Bite Here.

Laura stepped in front of Sherri to cover up what Cherri had done
until the Cousin had written the same thing on Torrey. Finally, the
N&NPack leader and Cherri stepped back to show the team.

"Oh my!" April bounced. "That is soo good."

"Mel," Cherri called to the quieter N&NPack leader. "who's supposed to
do Torrey's hair?"

Mel grabbed Idalia's arm to present her to Cherri. "She has a little
experience."

Idalia gulped at the attention.

Cherri handed her the brush. "You'll do fine, Idalia. Really! I have
faith in you. It doesn't have to be perfect."

Idalia nodded and started to work on Torrey's long blond hair. As the
strands were brushed, Mel sprayed them with white hair spray so that
the hair was sticking straight up. Indeed an impressive sight since
Torrey's hair reaches half way down her back. In the meantime, Dee and
Heather teamed up to work on Sherri's hair. Dee wasn't as accomplished
with the brush as Idalia but it didn't matter because Sherri's hair
was a lot shorter and easier to handle.

Once Torrey and Sherri's hair was sticking straight up and was
completely white, a cheer went up which echoed down the halls of the
sewer. Amongst the peals of laughter, the only word which could be
clearly heard was from Ruthless Cousin Denise who repeated the word --
"Perfect!" -- over and over again.

Quickly, they untied the Vaquera leaders and led them back to the
waiting van outside the sewers. Ruthless Cousin Denise was driving so
everyone including Torrey and Sherri had to hold on so they wouldn't
get thrown around.

When the van stopped, Torrey and Sherri were pushed out the van and
before they knew it, the van sped away.

The Vaquera leaders took a deep breath in hopes of clearing their
heads of the noxious fumes of the sewer.

Suddenly, Torrey realized where they were. "Oh NO!!!! They put us in
front of the Raven!!!"

"We gotta get out of here!" Sherri exclaimed just as someone opened
the door to leave the club.

They looked at each other and ran.


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


St. Joan's Cross
Nick's Loft
Mon 8/5 after sunset
By Kira Chistiakoff, Merc
with input from the NatPack, the War-Mistresses,
Lisa Prince, Lane Lombardia, John Ewan, Liz the Lucky, (Mercs)
Lauren and Dotti Rhodes, Suze Campagna, Karen Tobin, (Knighties)
and Bonnie Pardoe (Vaq)


As the group of mercs walked up to the building, Lisa whispered, "Are
you sure you want to do this? It's still not to late to steal it."

Naturally, the leader wasn't looking forward to facing a room-full of
suspicious Knighties, (especially with her twin-like resemblance to
one of the most vehement NatPackers) but why share that with the team?
"We can't steal it! Don't worry, it'll be fine. Now, you all remember
your assignments? Good."

In the elevator, she had to make a conscious effort to relax, and stop
her hands from shaking, so she made a show of petting her puppy.
(received as payment in The Cotton Candy Caper) //If he doesn't agree,
he doesn't agree, and there's nothing you can do about it. You'll just
have to come up with something else! But he *has* to agree, there *is*
nothing else!// the voices just wouldn't stop arguing about this.

Liz was starting to worry about Kira, they'd spent so much time
together, that she could tell Kira was really nervous about this.
Luckily she didn't say anything out loud, knowing it would just make
her mad.

As the group stepped (or rolled in Liz's case) off the elevator, they
were faced with a room full of Knighties, most of whom hadn't yet
noticed them. But Perri was standing there, waiting to greet them. She
never got the chance. Dotti, Lauren, Suze, and Karen at once screamed,
"KIRA!!!" and the leader of the group practically got smothered
between them in a group hug.

When she finally extricated herself from amongst the group, and had
calmed down the puppy, introductions were made. "Dotti, Lauren, Suze,
Karen, this is my new baby, who doesn't have a name yet, and this is
my backup team. This is Liz, we drove out from CA together, that's
John, Lisa, and Lane." A chorus of Hellos and Hi's went around, and
Lauren squatted down to play with the puppy, at which point the leash
was handed over, figuring Lauren could use a distraction as much as
the dog could.  Of course, they were shortly joined by a few more
Knighties who couldn't get enough of the new puppy.

Once everyone settled down a bit, the leader asked the all-important
question, "OK, where is he?" Whereupon she was pointed across the room
until she came face to face with the man himself.

"I'd appreciate it if we could have a little bit of privacy," Kira
told him quietly.

"I'm not too sure they'll go for that," was the reply.

"That's what backup is for, isn't it? You should know that one!"

While they had been talking, the backup team had surrounded them, and
slowly moved outwards, making the Knighties back off a bit, so they
could have a bit of privacy.

Lane drew a pair of wooden tanto from beneath his coat and started to
do a complex kata.  Lisa began to demonstrate a nice little electric
eye security set-up, advising those nearby that it would be perfect
for skylights and other entrances and very affordable.  John pulled a
pack of postal and flash cards from the Cloisters in New York,
offering them for sale with the "..almost guarantee to cause a
flashback with the Nickdude..."  Liz the Lucky did a driving
exhibition weaving in and out and around the other three with her
wheelchair that would have done an Auto Thrill Show proud.

The Knighties weren't too happy with the distractions, but the team
was holding it's own, for the moment.


"They're pretty good," he commented.

"That's what they're paid for."

"That's a good point," he said, "but maybe they could use a little
help?"

"If you feel you must," was the reply.

Apparently he felt he must, so he attempted to calm the group down.
Succeding only nominally, he decided the point should probably be
made.

"So what did you want to see me for?"

"I was hired to do a job, a difficult one at that."

"OK, I'll bite, no pun intended, what's the job?"

"I have to convince you to give me the cross of St. Joan."

"Really, and how are you gonna do that?"

"Well, I figure there's only a few things more important to you...and
I can lead you to one of them."

"What? Natalie? Tell me!" He grabbed her arm and squeezed, not
realizing he was hurting her until she hit him. Her hitting him set
off the Knighties. Once he let her go, she sat and rubbed her forearm,
watching it turn purple, while he sat there with a puzzled look on his
face.

To the Knighties Kira said, "Chill out guys, he hurt me more than I
hurt him!"

To Nick her only response was, "No, I don't know where she is, or
what's happened to her, but I do know some people who do."

"The Pack?"

"Naturally," was her reply. "The Pack knows, but they wouldn't tell
*me* anything. They don't know you're in town yet, but my agreement
with them was, if I could track you down *and* set it up, they'd be
willing to meet with you...But I'll only set it up in exchange for the
cross."

"Done."

By this point, the Knighties were getting more than a bit perturbed at
being restrained. He pointed out where the cross was, she pocketed it,
to the extreme shock of the Knighties, and called off her team.

"They'll be in touch," were her parting words.

She got her puppy away from Lauren, said goodbye to her, Dotti, Suze,
and Karen, and hurried into the elevator before anyone could change
their minds.

Back in the elevator, she congratulated the team on a job well done,
and made sure they knew they each had more than earned their payments
for that little trick. Upset Knighties are not a pretty sight. She
told Lisa her 4' teddy bear and $100 worth of nickels were on her bed,
Liz could pick her chocolate up at the shop whenever it was
convenient, (well Lane's payment is between him and me,) and she
settled John's payment then and there. John took the cross reverently,
looked it over for a moment and sighed.  His lips moved for a short
time and then he just smiled.  When his time was up he handed the
cross back to Kira.  There was an uncommon calm about him and a slight
gleam in his eyes as he turned away.

## el fin ##...or is it?


Thanks to all those who helped, and to my employer who's been a great
support during this whole thing! (thanks also to her for my payment)


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


Pay Backs Are A .....
Author: Torrey Harris with input from Sherri Campbell
Date: Monday, August 5th
Time: 10:35pm
Place: In front of the Raven, and elsewhere

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

Torrey and Sherri looked at the front door of the Raven with horror.

"This is bad." Sherri muttered. "We've got to get out of here quick!"

"Why don't we try and call someone to come get us?" Tory asked,
looking confused.

Sherri grabbed her shoulders, spinning her around. "Torrey, we have
*targets* painted on our necks! If you go in there you won't come back
out! Now start running and don't stop until we get to the church."

So they ran, and ran, and ran. Sherri made it to the Church gate
first, Torrey seemed to be having trouble with the considerable wind
drag flowing through the huge hair spikes on her head. Panting and
sweating Sherri waited for Torrey to catch up before opening the gate.
The two waded through the mass of angry geese to the front door where
a mass of Vaqueros stood with their mouths hanging open.

"What the hell happened to you?!!" Jay asked, looking at the two
painted/spiked people in front of him.

"Cousins and N&Ners!!" mumbled the pair in winded agony.

Sherri was the first one to make it inside, and she headed straight
for the shower. A few moments later, the door opened a crack and the
shirt came flying out followed by muffled curses.

Torrey slowly slid down the wall to a sitting position outside of the
bathroom to wait for her turn. Slowly the Vaqueros came closer to look
at the damage done. Vachon stepped forward and lifted her head to look
at the targets painted on her neck.

"That's cute." He half giggled, not realizing the danger he was in.

With that, the little bit of control that Torrey had kept snapped. She
let loose with the loudest barrage of foul words she could think of,
quickly covering at least four languages and a wealth of sign
language. The group around her quickly moved back covering their ears
and tried to stay out of the range of the hair spikes that threatened
to impale anyone who got too close.

Vachon slowly paled as some of the language sank in. The *last* time
Torrey had been this angry... well, he didn't want to remember that.
Moving toward the angry woman, he began murmuring quietly to her,
trying to calm her. He shuddered to think of what might happen,
otherwise.

Sherri came dragging out of the bathroom, her hair back to its natural
brunette.  Taking one look at Torrey, she went straight to Torrey's
gear, fetched clean clothes and a towel, put them in the bathroom, and
pushed Torrey inside. The door slammed shut with finality.

"Um... guys? Best think of something good to do to those responsible.
You don't want her taking revenge on us, do you?" The Vaqueros paled
at the possibilities... and began seriously thinking.

------------
To be continued.....


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


Return of the Nightcrawler - Part 1/5
"That's Entertainment"
by: Cousin Toni <tch@well.com>
Date: Monday August 5th
Time: Late Night
Location: CERK Radio

Toni was sitting alone at CERK again, all the Cousins were out and
about on their various errands.  She hadn't a lot to do so far, and
her form of alleviating boredom in the last war had just gotten her
into trouble back home.  Tonight she had picked the lock on the small
safe in the manager's office and was entertaining herself going
through CERK's ledgers. She was in the process of totaling up the last
few month's massive losses when a voice spoke in her ear.

"Finding something amusing", Lacroix asked.

"I wish you wouldn't do that", she said cooly.

"But how would I know what you were up to?"

"You'd know, you always know.  Speaking of which, I thought you had a
decent manager in here last year, what happened to her?  This new one
has been stealing you blind."

"The old one? A small altercation with one of Natalie's friends, I
believe", he said,  "She was exiled from the country on a trumped up
charge some time before you all arrived. I haven't gotten around to
doing anything about it yet. The 'new' one hasn't been seen since that
evening we poured the transmitter pad. I'm afraid I didn't like him
quite as well as the old one. Useful in getting the new studios built,
but then, like Heshuphet*, he just couldn't stay around to see opening
day," he finished smiling at some private memory.

"You know it's outrageous the way the station's losing money.  With
all these factions in town we could probably make a killing selling
ads to the Merc's alone...", she trailed off as she looked up to see
Lacroix regarding her with great amusement and some tolerance.

He took the ledger out of her hands and laughed "Yes, I can see you've
realized it's a matter of very little importance to me...  Let's see
if we can't find you something more useful to do. I seem to recall you
do have a tendency to get ... distracted when bored. What about these
books that everyone's chasing about trying to locate. How many of them
do we have?"

"Several hundred by now, I'd guess", Toni gestured toward the pile in
the outer offices.  "And that's just our faction alone, I had no idea
there were so many 'little brown books' in metropolitan Toronto. Which
reminds me..." she reached into her ever present bag, "I guess Candice
isn't going to claim this one..." She brought out a small book
slipping it from the "Gideons" binding and made to toss it onto the
trash.  Lacroix snapped it out of the air almost as she let go.

"That is Nicholas' writing", he hissed, "where did you get this?"

---------------------------------------------
* Note: Heshuphet is the name of an architect of one of the great
pyramids, apocryphally killed and entombed as the pyramid was finished
to protect it's secrets. Borrowed from some history book or other for
no reason at all.

       ~ continued in part Part 2/5 - "An Aunt by any Other Name" ~


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


Return of the Nightcrawler - Part 2/5
"An Aunt by any Other Name"
by: Cousin Toni with much advice from Cousin Candice
Date: Monday August 5, Late Night at CERK Radio

        As Toni searched for words to explain the book's convoluted
origin to Lacroix....

>>Flashback to : Monday July 29th,  Radisson Hotel, Toronto
>>Time:  Evening coincident with "Days Gone By 3/3: The Midnight Hour part 1"

Toni had been a bit concerned about Cousin Candice all day.  She'd
been trading messages with the younger woman since they'd gotten in
town.  But earlier today her voice mail had the cheery message "It's
me again -- I'll call you tomorrow. Wish me luck, I'm going out to
meet Ron!".  A date with Ron? Candice would need more than luck to
come out of that encounter alive. Not only that, but Candice had told
her in an earlier message that she had obtained another one those
annoying little brown books.

Candice had described bullying PartlyK out of her prize at the ROM
exhibition.  This was the very same book, if Toni wasn't mistaken,
that Lisa had been fuming about having lifted by Partly after she'd
put so much work into Police Commissioner "Dick" Vetter.
"Well, anything is better than sitting around", Toni thought deciding
to take a cab to the Radisson and see if she couldn't track down
Candice in person.

At Candice's hotel Toni managed to overwhelm the desk clerk with her
respectability and a $50 bill. Showing the clerk a picture of herself
and Candice visiting the sights around Toronto and another bill got
her a key and an invitation to wait for her "niece" in her room.

Looking around Candice's abandoned hotel room she was even more
concerned. Toni thought she should have a small Cousinly talk with
Candice, perhaps give her a few tips on safe uh "entertainment" during
the war -  "Didn't I tell that girl to find someone outside the
factions," she fumed to herself.

"Well if she's not here 10 to 1 she's got the damn book with her -
still...", she paused  noticing the carpet was slightly bumpy in one
part of the suite. As she pulled it back she saw a Yosemite Sam
keychain protruding from the lip of the floor safe beneath.  Hmm --
last time she's seen Candice that keychain had been firmly attached to
the green backpack Candice carried everywhere.  The backpack in which
Candice kept *everything* with packrat like reliability.

"She must have been in a hurry," Toni thought as she rummaged through
her copious purse looking for something suitable.  Of course she'd
come to talk not to break & enter. Long bobby pins were always good,
she though pulling them out.  Then she spied something on the vanity
in the bathroom; 3 long, slim, black metal pieces that looked like odd
ends to screwdrivers.

"How convenient of Candice," she murmured. A few motions with the lock
picks and a twist of the bobby pin and the safe opened.  Inside was
Candice's green backpack containing a small book with the initials NK
on the binding and Candice's laptop.

"In for a penny in for a pound," she thought, although how this came
under the heading of 'taking care' of young Candice she wasn't quite
sure...

She opened the laptop and plugged it in:

The first message was from PartlyK.
----------------------------------------------------------------------

* Thief!!!!

*However, before you start translating that
book, you should know that Tracy
*had removed the contents of the book and
had the cover put over a sappy
*romace novel written in Sandscrit.  She was
doing it as a joke on Nick.
----------------------------------------------------------------------


Hmm -- Not only was Partly having problems with her spelling, but it
seemed she didn't read Hamlet - "The lady doth protest too much,
methinks", Toni mused. "If the book is so unimportant, why got to all
the trouble to try & retrieve it?"

Turning the idea over in her mind, a "joke" on Nick seemed completely
out of character for Tracy.  She examined the book more closely.
Although the language was strange, the hand writing inside looked very
like the meager bits she'd seen on Natalie's cards. No, whether the
book was the one so greatly sought after or not it was definitely
*one* of Nick's and several people seemed to want it. For that reason
alone it should obviously be in a safer place.

Looking around the room she saw a book of similar size on the
nightstand, its cover imprinted in gold with "From The Gideons".  "Odd
sticks to be leaving bibles in around in old languages," she thought,
"still with the ancient languages convention in town, anything was
possible".

She carefully exchanged the covers and put the brown leather cover and
its new contents back in the pack and replaced it in the safe. She
left Candice a small package in the bottom of the safe wrapped in the
Welch's grape juice label, a very private joke, so Candice would know
who had been there.

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

        "So that's how I wound up with the book", Toni finished.

        ~ continued  Part 3,  "I Missed That Class" ~


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


Return of the Nightcrawler - Part 3/5
"I Missed That Class"
by: Cousin Toni
Date: Monday August 5th
Time: Late Night
Place: CERK Radio

"So that's how I wound up with the book", Toni finished. "I tried to
reach Candice all the next day but since she never got back to me I've
just been carrying it around.  I may have enjoyed a few
divertissements in wartime, but I've never taken home an Enforcer."

Lacroix was paging through the book laughing, openly now.

"Would you care to share what is so amusing in there", she inquired
acidly. "Some of us failed ancient Sanskrit".

"Oh, I recognize the language", he laughed again, "It's definitely my
son's, and it's definitely not account numbers... Nicholas used this
version of Sanskrit to keep his private diaries years ago, it's nice
to see he found other uses for it.  Too bad it wasn't the one used in
his precious Abarrat."

He turned smiling, "I think I owe you and Candice some entertainment
in return for this.  It's been too long since I've been on the air... 
Do you know how to operate this equipment?"

She nodded.

"Perhaps make it operate beyond the normal parameters?"  She looked at
him suspiciously but nodded again. "Good, but first we shall wait for
my troops. Call Candice as well and tell her that her presence is
requested."

Lacroix settled back to divert himself with his son's book while Toni
rooted out the transmitter manual and began to study the circuit
diagrams.

        ~continued in Part 4, "Little Brown ... Book" ~


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


Return of the Nightcrawler - Part 4/5
"Little Brown ... Book"
by: Cousin Tok and Cousin Toni
Date: Monday August 5th
Time: Later Night
Place: CERK Radio

As the Cousins filed back into CERK that night they found the General
present and ready to hand out assignments.

Cousin Tok was set to searching her professional membership database
looking for certain combinations of names. Using Junior the Amazing
bouncing Laptop (tm) she managed hack into the organization's main
office computer in Houston.

Before sitting down to search she spoke with Cousin Gandalf and Merlin
and assigned them to go with some of the humans and the radio
receivers.  All the factions would receive specially tuned radios that
night, but the Knighties were to receive an especially interesting
selection.  Merlin had already shown an uncanny ability to enter
Nick's loft at will in the War 5 and Tok was certain he could keep the
humans out of trouble.  Gandalf was to accompany the team to the
church. As a vampire kitty, he could easily "whammy" the geese
allowing the humans to make their delivery there.  Cousin Anne and
Fred had been pressed into service for the difficult delivery to the
Mercs. Felines, avian and humans alike were all instructed to keep any
eye out for the still missing Willow while were making their
deliveries. The pile of shiny new "CERK Radio" single frequency,
promotional receivers decreased as each team left the building

Another group of Cousins was going madly through the large pile of
"little brown books" obtained by the Cousins so far, looking for more
that matched the writing in the one Lacroix held.

Cousin Tok brought Lacroix a printout labeled "RWA Membership" and
began a whispered conversation comparing notes.  "As I thought,"
Lacroix spoke, "Very good, Tok, it's always nice to have confirmation.
I trust my son has been current in his dues." She nodded in some
confusion.

Toni and two of the electronically minded Cousins were busily applying
duct tape and clip leads to the polished new electronics inside CERK's
week old transmitter, entirely voiding the warranty, but substantially
increasing its power in ways that could later be easily blamed on an
unfortunate "power surge".

As the preparations finished, some of the Cousins returned and Lacroix
moved to the sound booth, still contemplating his prize.  Cousin
Candice appeared, somewhat pale but still angry at the vampire world. 
She made a sarcastic remark about her "Auntie Toni", but taking one
look at the new possessor of "her" book, decided it would be wiser not
to try to retrieve it at the moment, and promptly collapsed in a
chair.

        ~continued in Part 5, "The Nightcrawler Returns in Style" ~


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


Return of the Nightcrawler - Part 5/5
"The Nightcrawler Returns in Style"
by: Leslie Grant Smith <LoosCanN@aol.com>
with minor assistance from other Cousins
Date: Monday August 5th
Time: Later Night
Place: CERK Radio

The Nightcrawler was back in the broadcast booth again...  With Toni
sitting somewhat nervously behind the board of the new studio, he
queued her to fade the music.  As the last strains of Tchaikovsky's
saccharine "Romeo and Juliet" overture faded he began to speak....

"Good evening, my children.  The Nightcrawler is again in your midst,
craving your indulgence for his long absence.

"Tonight's topic ... a perennial favorite ... Love.  Or at least one
of its most recent manifestations ... Romance.  A relatively modern
concept, my children, blossoming as an ideal during the era of courtly
love.

"Which isn't to say that love and passion didn't exist before the
troubadours followed their muse through medieval Europe.  Dear me, no.
Love... Lust ... Passion ... have always been with us.

"But 'Romance,' with its insistence that the relationships burgeoning
under its influence are the human ideal ... it's insistence that
unless we are melded heart and soul to another, we are somehow ...
incomplete.  This, my children, is a very passing phase." <Lacroix's
voice carried his wry smile to his listeners.>

"Today we have our own modern version of the strolling troubadours.
Artists gifting us with their own honeyed visions of the perfect
relationship.  I give you ... the writer of the Romance novel.  I am
quite fortunate to have here in my hand a stellar example of the ...
poetry one such writer has poured forth from a bursting heart, a
fevered brain.

"A favorite passage of mine ... 'Ah, my love, you are the master of my
heart.  You are my heart.  Without you, I would surely die, my soul,
my reason for living ripped from my very body.'

"....Such depth, don't you agree, my children?  Such a wonderful
understanding of the basic human condition.  The producer of such
peerless prose?  One Nicole Chevalier.  Who in a delightful caprice,
wrote the initial drafts in Sanskrit.

"This writer, laboring in the old-fashioned way, laying down these
fulsome words in longhand on the pages of a brown leather bound book,
has, no doubt, a number of dedicated fans.  One often wonders about
the ... personal lives of the creators of such passionate fantasies.
Are they able to convey the depth of their ... affections to those who
care for them?  Are their hearts capable of responding with a
reciprocal tenderness?  Do they actually know what it is to be
consumed by love?  Or is the writing of such ardent prose simply a
game for them, a mere manipulation of words?

"Back to our story, boys and girls.  Naturally, the gentleman to whom
this loving heart is dedicated must answer in the same vein.  How
could one *not* respond in an equally ... fervent manner to such a
declaration?  Who could be so cold as to leave such love
unacknowledged?

"'My precious darling,' the young man responds, 'you are my guiding
light, my touchstone.  Without your shining presence, I would be lost
in my sea of dark depravity.  Only your love can save me, though I am
not worth the dirt your foot rests upon.'

"...My word, the fellow seems to have quite a problem with his self-
image. This is, of course, a common motif in the romantic novel, a bad
character redeemed by the love of a self-sacrificing woman.  A tad
sexist, wouldn't you say?  Nicole Chevalier seems to have a rather
regressive outlook.

"Amusing, is it not?  Do those close to ... Ms. Chevalier, which is in
all likelihood a nom de plume, realize what fevered imaginings churn
in that brain?  It is almost a cliche, the writer whose natural urges
and passions are so repressed -- so controlled -- that she ... or he
... requires a ... tamer outlet through which to express them.  Is
this the case with Nicole Chevalier?  Those who know the writer
intimately may be able to tell us. But perhaps not tonight."

"Good night, gentle listeners.  This is the Nightcrawler, wishing you
'bonne chance' with your romantic ideal, be it damsel in distress or
knight in shining armor.  Sweet dreams."

Lacroix signalled to cut the mic, while Toni queued blunt verses of
Alanis Morissette's 'Not the Doctor.'  Lounging back in his chair, he
brought the fingers of his steepled hands to his lips, concealing a
slight smile.  Then he stood, allowing his grin to spread, and
chuckling, he left the broadcast booth.

        ~ end ~


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


No Rest For the Wicked
by: Cousin Candice with many pointers re: Cousin Roni :)
date: Monday, August 5th
time: evening ( Pre-empting and Continuous from "WAR: Return of the
                NightCrawler 5/5:The NightCrawler Returns in Style" )
Place: CERK HQ

Candice entered CERK just as Lacroix began his monolgue.  Lacroix
threw her a glance that booked no interuption and she paused out side
the studio.

And that was just fine with Candice.  She could listen to him speak
till sunrise.

As the final words left Lacroix's mouth and Toni closed the mic,
Candice staggered into the studio, Welch's Grape Jar in hand. She went
straight for Toni and emptied the contents onto the tabletop in front
of her.

"You know Toni, you could have just left me a note.  I really do
appreciate the fangs, but don't you think the Glow-In-The-Dark condoms
were a bit much?  Oh, and the choker was thoughtful, but I don't do
velvet around the neck..."

Toni was doing her best not to chuckle, but her eyes were watering was
that red in Candice's eyes, or was she just seeing things?  Toni
rubbed her eyes clear -the red disappeared.  Candice was still
talking...

"...that's what I have this for.."  Candice dangled a wide leather
collar (no rings!!) with two very distinct tears in it, "...too bad
this one's useless now."

Toni tried to catch a glimpse of her neck, funny, it didn't *look*
like she had been bitten, but she did look rather pale...even a little
TOO pale.  Just as

Toni was about to express that sentiment, Candice collapsed, for the
second time that evening, in the chair next to her.


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


Choices: No Rest For the Wicked - Continuation
by: Cousin Candice and Cousin Toni
date: Monday, August 5th
time: Late night  Continuous from "WAR:  No Rest For the Wicked"
Place: CERK HQ

As the sounds of Alanis filled CERK a group gathered round Candice
trying to find a reason for her collapse. Toni leaned over the chair
supporting Candice's head.  "What ever happened to you, girlfriend?"
she said wondering, as another Cousin examined Candice's neck for
wounds.  Another began examining her hand checking her skin and
fingernails for signs of anemia.  "Blood Loss," she opined, "it has to
be... and she's very weak.  We should call an ambulance"  Several of
the women moved toward the phone.

"Stop!", a voice commanded.  LaCroix had entered the outer room,
leaving off his  pleasurable contemplation of his son's followers'
likely distress to notice the group gathered around Candice. "There is
already one person in Hospital with blood loss.  A second would be far
too conspicuous."

He moved toward Candice and scooped up the limp woman.  "Go ahead,"
he nodded at one of the Cousins, "and open a room upstairs for her.
There is someone I can call who will be able to treat her condition."

LaCroix carried the rapidly-leaving-consciousness Candice to the room
that had been readied.  He made a call on a private line to a doctor
for whom he had opened a practice years ago.  The doctor had done very
well for himself and the only compensation LaCroix asked was
unquestioning and completely discrete assistance during emergencies.

"Come with an I.V. unit and Type O.  Now."

The doctor had been informed of the relocation earlier and arrived at
CERK in 20 minutes.  A land-speed record if ever there was one...

Ten minutes later the good doctor stepped from Candice's side to speak
with LaCroix.

"She can't be moved for 72 hours.  I'll stay to monitor her progress."

"Good."

The doctor slumped into a chair wondering how the girl had lost so
much blood, there was hardly a mark on her body and there were no
gaping wounds he could see.  LaCroix left the doctor to his musings
and loomed over Candice's bed.  He wasn't particularly happy with her
behavior and was less than pleased that he had to make special
arrangements on her behalf.

He would have to speak with her about her choice of...playmates.

"After all," he mused aloud "one must be cautious in dealing with my
family..."


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


A Little Twist of Something
By Lana G. Soward, Unaffliated
Day/time:  Tuesday, August 6th, 12:01am
Location:  Diane's room at the hospital

Lana was startled from a sound sleep by a gentle tapping at her
shoulder. She sat up and turned and saw that it was Felix Twist.

"What are you doing here?"  she asked, amazed that he'd actually left
his office.

"Well," he said, feeling uncomfortable, because he had left his
office.  "I needed to talk to you about some things and because you
seemed to be glued to that chair, I thought I'd better come down to
the hospital.  If you wouldn't mind stepping into the waiting area, we
should be able to talk undisturbed."

"What time is it?"  asked Lana, as she tried to rub the sleep from her
face and sense into her head.

"It's 12:01am exactly,"  said Felix precisely.

"12:01am?"  Lana said, as she rose from the chair.  She bent over to
the intercom to the hyberbaric chamber and said, "Happy Birthday
Diane."

"It's her birthday?" asked Felix, as he lead the way to the waiting
area.

"Yeah,"  said Lana.  "I wish we could give her a birthday party but
don't think that she's in the condition to enjoy it."

The door shut gently behind them, leaving the room quiet except for
the hum of the hyberbaric chamber.  The peacefulness of the room,
didn't reflect the activity of Diane's mind as she lay comatose in the
chamber.

Birthday, she thought.  It's my birthday.

I want a party.

And so it begins.


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


An Invitation and A Little Shopping  (VHBB)
Virtual Hallucinatory Birthday Bash (VHBB)
By Lana G. Soward, Unaffiliated
Day/time:  Tuesday, August 6th, 12:04am
Location:  Diane's room at the hospital

WRITER'S NOTE.

This post is the beginning of Diane Echelbarger's Virtual
Hallucinatory Birthday Bash, a party that is for the express purpose
of having some fun without worrying about the timeline.    Please add
a bit and have some fun. Give Diane a little relief while she's
compiling the timeline and correcting all the continuity errors.  If
you do post something, please make sure it starts with WAR:  VHBB.
(see subject), so that way Diane doesn't try to fit them into the time
line.  I've written some already, so take a peek and enjoy them.
They're all meant in fun.

Tuesday, August 6th, is, was, Diane's actual RL(tm) birthday.  She
turned....  Well she'll have to say that for herself.




The nurse looked at the brain wave readout on the monitor.  The
activity was starting up again.  Usually comatose patients didn't
display such strange brain activity, but then nothing about this case
was normal.  The nurse noted it in her log and went back to her book.

Meanwhile Diane started to dream....

****

The invitations were hand delivered by a snooty driver in a white
Bentley limousine.  It stopped at seven places:  The Knightie Loft,
Natpack HQ, Merc HQ, the new CERK radio station, the Die Hard
headquarters, the Vaqueras church and for form's sake, the Raven Club.

Each invitation was black.  Very black.  Blacker than any black anyone
had ever seen.  It made the silver leaves and gold lettering stand out
in stunning relief.  Each one read the same:

The non-faction, non-fraction Unaffiliates would like to invite you to
a surprise birthday party for
Diane Echelbarger

To be held at the RAVEN on August 6th, 1996.

Dress is formal

Inter-factional fighting is NOT allowed.  Although scrimmages *may* be
tolerated.

Open bar
Full buffet.

Party starts at 7pm.

-----

Each faction sprang into shopping action.  The Raven(ette)s were
organized the fastest, primarily because they were always organized
for a shopping expedition.  They exited the Raven, en mass, leaving it
to the care of the caterers that had arrived and started to prepare
the place.  Cynthia had first extracted promises that the caterers
would not repaint the place or leave any lasting marks.

The head caterer took one glance at the steely look in Cynthia's eyes
and agreed.

They descended on Siren fifteen minutes before the Cousins and thirty
minutes before the Knighties and Vaqueras.

The owner of the small boutique (which suddenly got a lot smaller with
four factions in it) would have closed his doors, if he'd known the
chaos that was going to descend on his small shop.

The one hundred plus women wiggled their way around the shop, (you put
100 people in Siren and that's all you can do.) trying on clothes with
abandon. A Ravenette and a Knightie almost got into a tussle over the
last black velvet choker until a cousin snuck in a bought it out from
under them.

Finally, the shop having given all it could give, disgorged it's
patrons as they moved to the next goth shop, the Raven(ette)s leading
the way.

But before the owner could lock his door, a woman with *bright* red
hair stuck her foot in the door.

"We need to buy something," she demanded urgently.  "For tonight."

The owner stuck his head out and looked behind the woman.  Behind her
were at least twelve squinting women, standing like a conga line, one
behind the other, their hands on the shoulders of the one in front.
He shook his head.

"I'm sorry," he said.  "I've been cleaned out."

"Damn!" said one of the squinting women, who looked strangely like one
of his regular patrons.  She waved a bottle.  "We'll just have to keep
going. Let's go."

The conga line moved off down the street, with the bottle being passed
up and down the line.

"I need a vacation," said the Siren proprietor, his voice echoing in
the empty store.  He'd order his stock and then take a nice vacation
in the Caribbean.

And that's what he did.


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


Surprise  (VHBB)
Virtual Hallucinatory Birthday Bash (VHBB)
By Lana G. Soward, Unaffiliated
Day/time:  Tuesday, August 6th, 12:04am
Location:  Diane's room at the hospital

NOTE:  This is a dream that Diane Echelbarger is having.   It has no
basis in virtual reality.
Hallucinatory Time : 7pm

"Oh not here," protested Diane, as she saw where the other
Unaffiliates were leading her.  "It's war time."

"Hey it doesn't matter," said Spifff.  "We're Unaffiliates.  They
never attack us.  Well... almost never."

"Come on, Diane," urged Lana.  "I got dressed up for this.   We can at
least take a peek."

"Oh, alright," grumbled Diane, as she lead the way into the Raven.  "I
must have a death wish."

She almost got a death wish when she stumbled down a short step
because the place was pitch black.  There was a faint rustle of
chains, but otherwise, there was no sound.

"Something's wrong," said Diane, as she backed up until she bumped
into AJ. "They must be closed."

"You just need to let your eyes get adjusted," said AJ, and pushed
Diane forward.  "I called, so I know they were supposed to be open.
HEEELLLLOOOO"

Before AJ's voice died off in the distance, the lights came up and 250
women and men shouted "SURPRISE!"

Diane looked at the assembled masses in surprise.   She had never
thought that the other Unaffliates would be able to get one faction to
agree to get together during a war, and there appeared to be at least
seven.  It looked like they had all showed up.

"Well, I don't know what to say." she said.  "Except Thank You.  Thank
You all."

"Enough with the speeches," called someone from the floor.  "Blow out
the candles."

They brought out the cake, with it's XX candles flickering away.
They'd put them all on, she thought.   She took a deep breath and
blew...

******

If you want to know how old Diane is, you have to ask her.


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


Party, Party, Party  (VHBB 13/17)
Virtual Hallucinatory Birthday Bash (VHBB)
By Lana G. Soward, Unaffiliated
Day/time:  Tuesday, August 6th, 12:01am
Location:  Diane's room at the hospital

NOTE:  This is a dream that Diane Echelbarger is having.   It has no basis
in virtual reality.
Hallucinatory Time : 11:05pm

Once the factions had gotten used to being in the same room with each
other during a war.  The party started in full swing.  LaCroix had
even released Lisa from her confines, by promising the bartenders that
if she got a hold of a single Zombie Beachcomber that he'd have them
all for breakfast.

He told Will that he could come out of the straight jacket only if he
could find someone to undo it for him.  Unfortunately for Will,
everyone he asked took one look at LaCroix and hurriedly declined.  He
managed to have a good time, although dancing without arms tended to
upset his balance and he had an even more difficult time of getting
someone to accompany him to the, er, you know.

****

Even Dianne and Maureen sat down for a chat.  Maureen, still suffering
from the after effects of her reassimilation, had trouble restraining
the snide remarks about her recent trial, but she managed.

"I've got to keep order in the ranks," explained Dianne.  "We can't
have all think they can defect anytime they want?"

"Defecate?" shouted Maureen above the pounding music.  "Why shouldn't
they get to defecate whenever they want?  That's just the..."

"DEFECT!" screamed Dianne in Maureen's ear.  "We can't have them all
DEFECT any time they want."

****

Nick wandered up to Diane who was chatting with Janette about where
the other unaffiliates had gotten the chic black dress for her.

"Would you like to dance, birthday girl?"  he asked, smiling down at
her. Diane gaped in surprise.  She'd never expected him to come ask
her to dance. She set her drink down on the bar and allowed Nick to
lead her to the dance floor.

****

"Look he's dancing with Diane." said a Knightie.

"Well, after all it is her birthday," said Perri reasonably.

"Gee, I hope he'll dance with us next," sighed another.

"Don't count on it," said Catherine.  "I think he's afraid we're going
to dogpile him again.  Even though it usually is for his own good."

****

Vachon gracefully cut in on Nick and elegantly swung Diane away across
the dance floor.

"You're a wonderful dancer," marveled Diane.

Vachon, his hair trimmed very short as a the result of an unforeseen
incident, smiled.  "I've learned a step or two in my lifetime."  he
said. "I'm quite well-versed in the social graces."

****

"Hey Bonnie.  Look who Diane is dancing with."

"WHAT?"

****

Maureen caught LaCroix eyeing her.  The amount of alcohol she'd
consumed had given her a batch of Dutch courage.

"What are you staring at?"  she demanded.

"Your hair," he admitted frankly.  "They really did a remarkable job
with the red dye.  You really did have blonder hair that mine."

"How did you know that?" asked Maureen horrified.

"Oh Maureen," said LaCroix.  "Did you really think that the
Mercenaries would dye your hair blond and not take any pictures.  It's
out on the world wide web under
http://www.mercs.com/maureen_blond.gif.  It's really quite an amazing
picture.  Excuse me.  I must go claim a dance with the birthday girl."
He moved off through the crowd and Maureen stood gaping after him.

****

If anyone else would like to have a go, jump in.  Give Diane the gift
that keeps on giving.  A little bit of nonsense for our Timekeeper.


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


Dreaming of the Night: Diane Echelbarger's hallucinatory birthday bash
Virtual Hallucinatory Birthday Bash (VHBB)
by Lisa McDavid

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

Lisa smiled at the barkeeps. It was a bright smile, one which had been
known to make strong men climb trees and jump overboard to get out of
her way. "Yes," she said reasonably, "but I'm not asking you for a
single Zombie Beachcomber. I said make me a double."

Such was the strength of Lisa's personality -- especially when
expressed in a $100 bill -- that she got her wish. Then she got her
second wish. After all, two doubles equal four Zombie Beachcombers,
which is definitely not the single Lacroix said she wasn't to have.
<Hey, this is a dream. The rules of logic are different here.>

Alas, not even two double or four single Zombie Beachcombers could
persuade Lisa to release Will. She did, however, dance the limbo with
him. <Stop laughing, those of you who know me in person. I *said* this
was a dream. :)>

Naturally others joined in, until all the vampire characters except
Feliks Twist were limboing. He sat chatting with a potted palm
instead. The contest came down to Nick and Janette. Nick was about to
try for a space none of the mortals could even see, when suddenly
Natalie appeared on the bar. <No, I didn't ask permission. Dreaming
subconsciouses don't. :)>

"Nick! No!!! You couldn't do it without the vampire?" Natalie yelled.
Lisa McDavid sidled up to the bar, said something to her, and handed
her a glass. Natalie drained it. Then, grinning broadly, she yodelled,
"But can you do it with? Come on, Nickie, let's have some fun!"

The band broke into the traditional music as Nat did an expert bump,
grind and toss of her lab coat into a corner. She was wearing the
black lace teddy from Only the Lonely under it.

Janette arrived at the bar with vampiric speed and pulled Nat off it.
"A little drunk, are we?" Janette's glare at Lisa bounced off only
because Lisa was used to staring matches with LaCroix.

Nat smiled beatifically. "You bet your ass and raise you one boob I
am. Come on, everybody, it's just a dream -- let's party."

And that is how Natalie, Janette and Lisa came to be leading a conga
line around the bar. Natalie and Janette sandwiched Nick between them,
Lisa grabbed onto LaCroix and the fun began. Even Fred the Eagle, who
had polished off the last finger of Lisa's drink, flew unsteadily over
head, screeching, as the conga line kicked its way toward the door and
into <whatever the name of the street the Raven's on is -- you expect
memory in a dream?>


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


Conga, Rhumba, Samba, Waltz
Virtual Hallucinatory Birthday Bash (VHBB)
by Christina Kamnikar (aka Kiki, Chaos, & Auntie Christina)
TIME: Diane's Dream on her birthday
PLACE: her subconscious
        Happy Birthday, Diane!
        After Lisa McDavid's "Dreaming of the Knight"

The large group of revellers unsteadily conga-kicked their way out
into the street surrounding the Raven, various partiers breaking off
to dance by themselves or samba with others. Lacroix could be seen
doing a stately tango with Sharon; Diane was now quite sure this was a
dream, but it was fun anyway. The music was swinging into a caribbean
beat as Susan and Dianne and Janette rhumba'd by with Spark, who Diane
remembered dying in "A More Permanent Hell"; somehow the three women
were managing to share the male vampire, although he had a faintly
scared look on his face.

"Diane dahhhhhhhhhhling," someone bumped into her from behind, and the
Timekeeper turned to see an obviously intoxicated and weirdly dressed
Christina swaying happily to the music. "I have a prezzie for you!"
The Mercenary Mommy General held out a pink-wrapped package, and Diane
took the opportunity to study one of her erstwhile assailants from War
#5 as she unwrapped it.

"Chris, why is you hair that shade of yellow? And why are you talking
in a phony British accent? And you never drink!"   And besides that,
you're dressed like a lunatic, Diane didn't add. Red kimonos and
Edwardian picture hats only really worked on Audrey Hepburn.

"Dianne dyed my hair when she passed sentence on Maureen," Christina
said dolefully, still sounding like Joanna Lumley as she fingered one
golden curl. "I was perfectly happy as a brunette... alas. Weep! So
I'm consoling myself with many, many Mai Tai's. Miklos is such a doll,
isn't he?" Lane samba'd by with Alma, and Chris shook her head,
sending her large picture hat flopping over one eye. "But I'm getting
used to it; everyone thinks I'm just a Clairol-challenged blonde
anyway. The Brit accent is to make up for my Kiki bit, dahling. I'm
not just a Val-gal, you see. I'm a pretentious Brit, too. How do you
like your prezzie?"

"It's... absolutely fabulous," Diane said with a straight face,
holding up a red micro-teddy with feathers. "Whatever made you think
of it?"

"Something Dianne said about bunnies," Christina said vaguely, waving
to the pogo-stick hopping Morrigna on the other side of the street.
"Can't remember. Must dash, dahling. I'm going to tackle Vachon while
my hair is still butter-colored. It'll wear off and I'll be back to
Natalie-hair eventually, and then I'll be forced to dance with HIM."
The MMG pointed at Nick, who was waltzing toward them with Lizbet, who
seemed to be stepping on his feet every five seconds. The unsteady
Merc Mommy General swayed and samba'd over to Vachon, tripped Sherri,
and cut in as the music began to play "Shake, Shake, Shake Senora".

"Diane? Did Natalie give you that?" Nick asked in bemusement. "Is she
wearing nothing but her lab coat now?"

"Uh, nooooo... Never mind, Nick. Just shake it, okay?" Diane threw the
teddy toward the nearest garbage can, and she and Nick began to samba
down the street.

Lacroix went by doing the bunny hop with some Cousins singing "Na nee
na nee nah nah, na nee na nee nah! Na nee na nee nah nah, nah nah
nah!" with a perfectly straight face.

Janette was waltzing with Screed, who was babbling on about new
hor'doevres for the Raven. The female vamp appeared to be enthralled
with his accent, but Diane knew that couldn't really be the case. It
had to be his cologne.

Natalie had grabbed Vachon's leather jacket and was now wearing it
over the teddy as she demonstrated the "Macarena" to a group of
policemen who were leaning against their parked squad car. She was
backed up by a group of Natpackers, all of them wiggling and sticking
out their hands like demented Shirelles.

And the party partied on.


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


Birthday Cake
Virtual Hallucinatory Birthday Bash (VHBB)
During the party
Karen Weston, Natpacker, westonk@uwwvax.uww.edu

Diane looked at the cake.  It was a big cake! And with the right
number of candles.  Of course, when she looked at the smiling baker
behind the cake, she knew why - the baker was one of the few people
here who would know how many candles to put on it.  Then she looked
around the cake and gasped!  There were at least three dozen different
little cheese cakes on the table; and a Countess Toulouse la Trec
French chocolate cake.

"Karen, what have you been up to?!"

"Well, I haven't done much this war, except loose my glasses and help
rescue Maureen.  Most of the time I've been at Natpack HQ and we have
an absolutely wonderful oven there.  I've been baking.  But since I
haven't needed to bribe a Merc yet this war, I have all these lovely
cheesecakes to share.  And I know you LOVE cheesecake!.  I couldn't
come up with a recipe that our vampire friends could enjoy though."

She looked sad, then brightened,"Cut the cakes, Diane.  Then we can
eat."

Diane cut the cakes, and shortly everyone in the room was sampling
cheesecake.
____________
It's just a vignette.  I sent cheesecakes to the last several wars and
fed real ones to a number of listmembers over the years.  Diane is my
middle child godmother (some of you may remember us hunting a hat for
him in previous war) and we love her very much.  Happy Birthday,
Diane, and I hope the interview went well.  Love, Karen
(Pardon the typos, I'm writing online at work without an edit function.)


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


Love the One You're With
Virtual Hallucinatory Birthday Bash (VHBB)
by Gayle McCreedy

Occasion:  Diane's hallucinatory birthday party
Site: Diane's hospital room


The nurse sighed as the machines kicked up again.  "How many dreams
does this woman have in one night?" she wondered.

And as Diane continued to dream about her birthday party at the
Raven...


8:30pm

LaCroix sat at the table with the cousins, bored.  Oh sure, it was
nice having slavish associates and all.  But being surrounded 24 hours
a day by yes-men/women took its toll.  LaCroix stood up purposefully
and began to stride toward the bar.

Almost immediately, the table of cousins rose and made to follow him.
LaCroix turned back to the table, an evil look in his eyes.

"Sit!" he commanded in a stern voice.

The cousins sat again at the table as though with one body.  Several
canine members of the Woofpack who had previously been eagerly
sniffing a potted palm also sat at attention.

"Stay!" LaCroix said, and indeed, most of the cousins looked like they
might just do that.

LaCroix turned sharply, one might almost say militarily, on one heel,
and proceeded to bash directly into Natalie as he took his first step.

"Hey!  Watch it!"  Natalie grouched as the contents of her glass were
sent to the floor.

"I'm sorry, my dear," LaCroix said as he took the nearly empty glass
from her hand and adroitly tossed it against the far wall.  "Now, what
am I supposed to say when I do that?  It doesn't matter, I suppose."

LaCroix draped one arm around Natalie's shoulder as he guided her
toward the bar.  At first, Natalie began to pull away, then after a
moment wrapped one arm about his waist and pulled LaCroix closer. (A
big wave to all the LC/Nat fans out there!)

"What were you drinking?" LaCroix asked.

"Chardonnay."  Natalie replied.

"A chardonnay for my friend, Milkos," LaCroix said gaily.

"Thanks, LC, but I'm drinking Budweiser tonight," Milkos replied.

"Okay then, a Bud for you and a Chardonnay for Natalie," LaCroix
rejoined agreeably.  "And I'll have some of that private stock from
the American prohibitionist period.  They *really* knew how to party!"

LaCroix lounged comfortably against the bar, chatting with Natalie, as
he wondered silently what, exactly, coroner's wore under lab coats.


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


Shut Up and Kiss Me
Virtual Hallucinatory Birthday Bash (VHBB)
by Gayle McCreedy

Occasion:  Diane's hallucinatory birthday party
Site:  Diane's hospital room

Diane moaned in her sleep as though her dream was troubling.  After a
moment, her brow smoothed and she fell once more into a deep sleep.
To sleep, and perchance to dream...

To dream of the continuing birthday party at the Raven.
Time:  8:45p

Nick was in the middle of a sensual slow dance with June when he
spotted Natalie at the bar with LaCroix.  Being a gentleman, he
finished the dance with his partner.  After thanking June for the
dance, he lept over several dogs and one cousin in his haste to get to
the bar.

"Natalie!" he shouted in midair over a rotweiller.

Natalie turned just in time to see Nick flying less than gracefully
over the dog.  LaCroix watched with an amused expression, and slid one
hand protectively around Natalie's waist as he stood behind her.

"LaCroix, back off," Nick warned in a low growl as he grabbed
Natalie's arm.

"Nick!  Let GO!" shouted Natalie.  "Who exactly do you think you are,
buster?"

"Me?  I'm just the one who loves you.  Now he, he is the one who
wanted to make you an after-dinner mint."

Nick began to pull Natalie's arm.  Natalie, after a moment and still
in a glower, turned to LaCroix and excused herself.  LaCroix leaned
back against the bar, a sardonic smile alighting his lips as he
watched the mis-matched couple find a quiet corner of the bar.  He
sipped his private stock.

LaCroix's attention was momentarily diverted by the sound of an
announcer.

"Hokay, everyone, we will be starting a karoke contest in just a few
moments, just as soon as we finish our sound check.  All you wanna-be-
Elvises, get ready!"

LaCroix winced at the sound level, and winced even more to realize
that the tune they used to test their system was "Saturday Night
Fever."  Something other than the Bee Gees, surely could be found.

Glancing over to the place where Nick and Natalie were leaning against
the wall , he saw that they were still deep in heated conversation.
Natalie didn't look overly happy, he noted with a smile.  Secure with
his status in the running, he walked over to the stage to *suggest*
another choice in music.

Soon the sound of Sting floated out over the bar, and people began
dancing again.

 (Hey, I get to make LC a Sting fan if I want in a dream!)

LaCroix looked back again to check on his progress in the Nick and Nat
wars.  To his surprise, Natalie was standing VERY close to Nick, her
hands on his chest.  Nick for his part, had his hands on Natalie's
waist.  Natalie's head was lowered as they talked, almost shyly, but
her eyes never left Nick's face.  After a moment, Nick's head lowered,
and tentatively he kissed Natalie.  It was a short, sweet kiss, and
Natalie ducked her head again, laying it on his shoulder, as her arms
cautiously encircled Nick's neck.  Nick pulled Nat to him.  The second
kiss was a full, deep kiss.  Natalie's hands entwined in Nick's hair
as she arched against him.  Nick's hands, well, let's just say that
Nick's hands were thoroughly investigating the quality of the weave of
her lab coat.

LaCroix's expression turned quite black for a moment.  Those within a
few feet instinctively ducked.   Then, with a sigh and a shrug, he
turned his back on the couple.

A petite IB eyed LaCroix's retreat with disgust.  In a desperate
attempt to break up the entwined couple, she spilled a pitcher full of
ice water down Nick's back, causing him to startle.

"Oh, geez, sorry!" the IB stammered, trying to look sorry.

"It's okay," Nick replied sunnily, this tux is made out of miracle
cloth.  It will dry in the time it takes to go to commercial break.
You know, I've even been shot in this coat, and look, no holes!"

Nick looked as though he could go on for hours about the wonders of
miracle cloth.  Natalie grabbed his arm and made for the center of the
room.


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


Is That a Party in Your Pocket, Or Are You Just Happy to See Me?
Virtual Hallucinatory Birthday Bash (VHBB)
by Maureen "The Mad" Wynn

Day/time:  Tuesday, August 6th, 12:04am
Location:  Diane's room at the hospital

NOTE:  This is a dream that Diane Echelbarger is having. It has no
basis in virtual reality.
Hallucinatory Time : 11:57pm

The party was really swinging now - literally, actually. It's a good
thing the Raven's chains were securly fastened to the ceiling beams,
considering the number of people who were hanging from them. Also
swinging from them -not to mention falling off them...

"Oof!" Tracy said as she landed - yet again - on her perky little ass.
"Those things are harder to hang onto than they look like!" she
complained as Screed helped her to her feet.

"Oy, don't you be worryin' yor pretty l'il 'ead 'bout that, sweet-
cakes," Screed said, winking mischieviously. "Why don'ts you and I go
'ave a lit'le drinkie, 'ey?" And the two wandered off toward the bar,
with Screed's gloved hand firmly planted on Tracy's perky butt.
Vachon danced by with Diane draped over him, but he just raised a
shaggy eyebrow and said, "Whatever!" as they continued to waltz by.
Which was an odd thing, since the music playing was a tango.

Maureen was having a grand old time. Once the Natpackers had found a
boutique that the Raisinettes hadn't completely gutted, she'd found
the perfect gown. A floor-length, dark green velvet with a scooped
neck, it hid the things she wanted hidden, and revealed the things she
wanted revealed. What more could one want from a party dress?

She lifted an eyebrow at the bartender, and he obliged by bringing her
another glass of red wine. She raised the glass, and the group of
people standing around her raised theirs also - Amy aided slightly by
Jennie, since she'd started drinking so much earlier than anyone else,
and was correspondingly more plastered than the rest - and waited for
Maureen to propose her toast.

"To all those who make Forever Knight a thing of beauty and a joy
forever: the fans! Long may they wave!" Everyone cheered and drank,
then waved. "To all those who sank Forever Knight like a bloated body
in the East River: The Powers That Be! Long may they rot!" Everyone
cheered louder, drank again, then blew a loud, wet raspberry.

"To all those who think they know how to have a War, but actually have
less of a clew than a pink-striped wombat: Everyone but me!" said
another voice. The crowd cheered even louder and drank again. So, it
was insulting - was that any reason *not* to drink to it?

Maureen turned and peered blearily at the two figures standing behind
her. "Maddog?" One of them smiled at her, and handed her a photo. She
looked at it. <Oh, yeah, *another* picture of the NatBear...> She
blinked, unable to quite make out what the pig was doing to the bear
in this photo, then gave it up. She looked at the other woman.
"Rastro?"

"Oi!" the Lunatic Lurker(tm) said.

"What are *you* two doing here?" the dipso redhead said, looking like
she was having a hard time focusing on the Lurkers. Finally, she
placed one hand over her left eye, and that seemed to help. "You're
not supposed to be in this War."

"Wot? Are you daft? It's a *dream*, you silly git! Of course I can be
here!" Rastro powered up her portable tessaract, reached in, and
pulled out a glass filled with a flourescent blue liquid. She drank
half of it in one swallow, then belched with apparant satisfaction.
Maureen shuddered. How anyone could drink awful concoctions like that
was beyond her. She took another swig from her large wine glass of
Merlot.

"So, how is the War without us, anyway?" Maddog asked, reaching past
her fellow Lurker to pull a large glass of something lime-green out of
the tessaract.

"Dreadful. Awful. Not *nearly* enough silliness. Why, not a single
person in this war has had anything poured on them! No Ribena, no
blood, no tapioca pudding, nothing, nada, zilch." Maureen pouted, then
brightened. "But the cotton candy was quite nice."

"Cotton candy? Where?" Maddog said, looking around as if it must be
there and she'd just missed it.

"...and not *one* exploding car," Maureen continued, oblivious. "It's
a long-standing War tradition that at *least* one car gets blown up in
each War. How can we <hic!> have a war without an explosion?" Maureen
pouted again, and Rastro took pity on her.

"Here," she said, reaching into the handy-dandy-every-home-should-
have-one tessaract, and pulling out a large firecracker, handed it to
the red-headed Natpacker - something that anyone *but* a Lurker would
know is an extremely dangerous, if not criminally negligent, thing to
do.

Maureen held the large bright-red firecracker, wondering how this
would help, when she suddenly noticed the party decorations on the
tables. Every table had a flower and ballon centerpiece, and at the
center of the confection was a miniature replica of The Caddy - six
inches long, and the *exact* shade of teal-turquoise-
blue/green/whatever. Her eyes lit up, and so, shortly, did the
firecracker...

**BANG!!**

It made quite a nice explosion in the middle of the dance floor.
Little bits of miniature green-blue Caddy sprayed all over the room.
Amazingly, not a single person was hit by them. <It's a *dream*!>

Maureen was so happy she kissed Nick. She enjoyed that so much she
then kissed LaCroix. At that point the entire party joined in, and
soon everyone was kissing everyone else, and the room resounded with
*smack* after *smack*. Sadly, this revelry ended abruptly when Vachon
kissed Perry, and Tracy, jealous, chased the vamp-dog around the room
and out the door.

When the dancing started again, Dianne swung past her on the dance
floor, and Maureen called out "goldfish!" to her. Dianne immediately
lost 75 IQ points, and started chattering animatedly to her partner,
Will. "Like, this is the most *rad* party! Except, like, those totally
*grody* things over there," she said, blinking at the Ravenettes
lounging against the bar, dressed in their customary black. "Like,
don't they *know* that chokers are, like, so *past* passe? Like,
clueless to the *max*! Totally!"

Maureen smiled happily, and took another drink, then joined the bunny-
hop line that was passing her. She inserted herself in the line behind
LaCroix, pushing Jill aside easily, as the brunette Natpacker was
completely mesmerized by the view of the butt before her. Putting her
hands on LaCroix's waist she hopped in time to the music, enjoying the
fine view she had of his perfect posterior. <Forward, back, hop! hop!
hop!>

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

Happy Birthday, Diane! <g>


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


Do The Hustle!
Virtual Hallucinatory Birthday Bash (VHBB)
by Gayle McCreedy and Tina Cooling

Occasion:  Diane's hallucinatory birthday party
Site:  Diane's hospital room

Diane nestled her head more deeply in the pillow, a satisfied smile on
her lips. &nbsp;The nurse could be heard still grouching in the
background as Diane fell into another dream.

And dreamed again of her wonderful birthday party. Time: &nbsp;9:30p

Natalie was still humming the theme to Gilligan's Island as she sipped
a Samoa Sling. &nbsp;This party was really not a chardonnay kind of
event, she mused as she watched Tracy climbing on the chains
repeatedly.

Nicholas, who had left her side momentarily to talk to the band, had
gotten a little sidetracked when a group of Knighties had pulled him
into a conga line. &nbsp;He danced once around the bar with the group,
stealing a drink off of LaCroix as he passed, then excused himself as
he passed the band. &nbsp;After a moment of discussion with the band,
he again tried to cross the dance floor. &nbsp;This time, Janette
caught him in her arms in a twirling, nearly Ger-cam spin of a dance.
&nbsp;Natalie watched just long enough to realize that neither Janette
or Nick were particularly unhappy to be in each other's arms, at which
point she pointedly cut in and danced Nick back to the far side of the
dance floor.

"Thanks, Nat," Nick said sheepishly. &nbsp;"Oh, and Nat, I've
convinced the band to play the hustle!" he said with pride.

"Kewl!" said several listmembers from southwestern states who were
standing at the edge of the dance floor. &nbsp;"I always like a good
line dance."

Nick was momentarily disconcerted, then threw himself into a Travolta-
like pose as the first bars of the 1970's megahit began, then began
doing the simple three-step dance.

"Da-ta-da-ta-da-da-da-da-da," Nick sang to himself as he clapped and
turned.

Gayle, as staunch an N&NPacker as ever, couldn't quite resist an
opportunity to dance with Nick in the antiquated line dance.
&nbsp;After a moment other listmembers whose age enabled them, like
Gayle, to relive a brief moment of nostalgic insanity, joined the pair
on the dance floor.

It was the turn of the modern line-steppers to be disconcerted.

"What is this crap? &nbsp;Disco?" one muttered as they wandered away.
"The lowest I go is 'Achy-Breaky Heart," another said.

And Natalie, who's memories of leisure suits were not quite so warm
and fuzzy, decided to let Milkos find her another tropical drink.


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


The Unspoken Question Gets Asked
Virtual Hallucinatory Birthday Bash (VHBB)
by Gayle McCreedy

Reader alert: This one is defininely PG-13!
(I've put "adult" in the header just in case, so as not to offend our
younger members.)

Occasion:  Diane's hallucinatory birthday party
Site:  Diane's hospital room

The night nurse cursed under her breath as she made yet another note
in the log.  Diane, for her part, wore and evil smile as she entered
this particular dream.

10:45-ish
Gayle tossed back her third Scotch and water, placing the glass
demurely on the counter as she ordered her fourth.  She could get to
enjoy a virtual drunk, she decided.

"It's not every woman who can hold her scotch," a voice purred next to
her shoulder.

Gayle looked up suddenly to find LaCroix at her elbow.

"It's been a long time since I've been able to drink them," Gayle
admitted.  "Once I hit thirty, they really began to tear up my
stomach. Fortunately, here in the hallucinatory world, they don't seem
to bother me a bit.  And, oh, do I like a drink that allows you to
actually *hear* those brain cells dying - one at a time!"

Gayle wasn't entirely sure, seeing as how she hadn't had four scotches
in a long time, but thought perhaps that LaCroix had moved just a
little closer.  Her N&NPack loyalty fought with her cousinly
tendencies, and as often happens, the cousins won.

"So, LaCroix," she said, turning toward him.  Gayle could not help but
run the satin edge of his exquisitely tailored tux between two fingers
as she spoke.  "Do you mind if I ask you a *personal* question?"

"Not at all," LaCroix said, a smile playing about his lips.

Gayle hesitated as she realized that she was not quite sure exactly
how drunk she was.  In the end, she gave up and forged ahead.

"Well, I've been watching for a little while, and I've been on the
list for a few months, and one of the questions that always is
bantered about is whether a vampire can actually *do it.*"

"And?" LaCroix asked, neatly avoiding the implied question.

"And, well, beyond all the issues of whether or not a girl might get
killed that way, I've always wondered..."  Gayle broke off, unable to
finish, a deep blush expanding from her cheeks to over her face and
neck.

"Go on," LaCroix said, amused, running one finger along the side of
Gayle's flaming red face.

"Well, in my experience, a little blood in the right place at the
right time is needed, and,"  Gayle sucked in a large breath and
blurted the rest of the question out as quickly as possible.  "With
only one heartbeat every 10 minutes, doesn't it take a long time?"

LaCroix's head fell backward as a full-throttled laugh erupted from
his chest.  Gayle knocked back the rest of her drink in one swallow.

"Oh, Gayle," he said, catching his breath.  "Let's just say that no
one has complained about how they spent the intervening time." "How
about a dance?" LaCroix said, changing the subject.

"Yeah, sure," Gayle stammered, still blushing but welcome for any
diversion.

"The questions a newbie will ask," LaCroix said under his breath,
shaking his head, as he guided Gayle to the dance floor.


*****************************
And with this post, I go to take a needed cold shower.  Next?


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


A Dream With a Mind of Its Own
Virtual Hallucinatory Birthday Bash (VHBB)
by Laura MacMillan and Chana Rossman
Tuesday, August 6/96            Evening

Note: This Diane Echelbarger's hallucinatory birthday party and has no basis
on reality or effect on the time line.


Laura sat back watching everyone, fascinated by what she was seeing.
Mulder and Scully from the X-Files were there, leading a group of
people in the bunny hop. Mulder was was yelling, "Hop for the truth".
Scully was right behind him saying, "Mulder, you'll never find the
truth the way you hop". Duncan Macleod, from the Clan MacCleod, was
behind Scully whispering to her, "You look really good when you hop".

Laura could hear the sound of Tracy's voice as she sang, "I've lost
the loving feeling,"  on the karoake stage. As soon as she was
finished Vachon took the mic and started to sing, "I'm too sexy ". Mel
and Charlyne were two of a dozen people standing in front of the stage
chanting, "take it off!!", but to no avail.

Laura noticed Chana in the corner talking with Lacroix and she seemed
to be quite happy. At the same time Cousin April had joined Mel in at
the stage and added her voice to the chant. Laura noticed Denise
standing to the side of the bar sipping on a glass of red wine while
Methos sipped a can of Diet Pepsi. Before too long Denise left Methos'
side and approached her carrying two velcro suits. She handed one to
Laura and said, "Put this on Chana, it should prevent her from
changing affiliations." With that she headed over to where Cousin
April was.

All of a sudden Laura turned and saw one of the most startling things
of all, Nick and Natalie were surrounded by a group of relentless
N&NPackers. They were playing the N&NPack version of spin the bottle.
Every time the bottle pointed at Nick or Nat they had to kiss each
other. If it pointed at anyone else that person would explain why Nick
and Nat should be together. Jenn and Erin seemed to be having the most
fun telling Nick why Nat needs him to be more affectionate. Then all
of a sudden Tia, Kelly, Friday and Tina got up and headed to the
nearest couch. They each took a corner and picked it up, carrying over
to where Nick and Nat were still sitting looking utterly confused.
Laura shouted "FK on Gilligan's Island time," and she headed for to
where everyone had gathered.

Debbi started, "Janette is Ginger".

"Nat is Mary Anne," stated Ray

"Lacroix is The Skipper," added Carrie

"Nick is Gilligan," chimed in Mirror

"Tracy is Mrs. Howell,"stated Pat

"So does that make Vachon the Professor or Mr. Howell?" questioned
Sorcha

"I vote for Mr. Howell," answered Arletta.

"So that makes Schanke the Professor then," reasoned TJ.

Soon all the Forever knight characters were piled on the couch
pretending it was the Minnow. They started singing the theme to
Gilligan's Island

Just sit right back and you'll hear a tale
A tale of a faithful knight
And how his life was changed one eve
>From just a single bite.

The knight was a mighty warrior
Handsome, brave, and sure.
The dark-haired girl was beautiful
For him she was the lure.
For him she was the lure.

She led him to her sire's home
His human life was drained
Once the vampire we call LaCroix
Had drunken from his vein.
Had drunken from his vein.

Eight hundred years have traveled by
In Toronto they now are
There's Nicholi, and Schanke too, Natalie
and her cat, the lost boy vamp, Janette and Lucian
All on Forever Knight.


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


Party on!
Virtual Hallucinatory Birthday Bash (VHBB)
by Jill "Maureen's Gonna Kill Me" Kirby

Day/time:  Tuesday, August 6th, 12:04am
Location:  Diane's room at the hospital

NOTE:  This is a dream that Diane Echelbarger is having. It has no basis
in virtual reality.

Hallucinatory Time : 11:58 (and if this conflicts with anything-- hey,
it's a hallucination.  Deal with it and move on.  <G>)


Suddenly, Maureen was no longer doing the conga.  In fact, she was no
longer doing-- or wearing-- much of anything.

She let out a yelp and flung herself to the ground.

Diane watched, puzzled, as a broad-shouldered man in a white shirt,
tie, and snugly fitting suit pants strode up to Maureen.  "Maureen!"
he barked, and Maureen flung her arms in front of herself, trying to
cover up.  But when her hands hit her... er, front, she realized that
<something> was covering the critical parts of her anatomy.

Thin mint cookies.  Pasted on, somehow (and no "pasty" jokes here,
please).

Maureen let out a howl of anguish.  "Here am I before the mighty
Skinner, and I have no Thin Mints to offer Him!"

(Note:  as this is a hallucination, Walter S. Skinner, Assistant
Director of the FBI, is permitted to appear.  On that note, there is a
<lovely> little hallucination involving Jill Kirby, Methos, <and>
Duncan... which will just have to be sent to JADFE, as this is a
<family> list.)

"Actually," said Kelly the Natpacker, who appeared out of nowhere
wearing Glinda the Good's pink dress from "The Wizard of Oz" and
brandishing something that looked suspiciously like the Shillalegh of
Death, "You have lots of Thin Mints.  You just happen to be <wearing>
them."

Skinner glowered at Maureen (he glowers so nicely, doesn't he?).  "I
demand homage.  I demand Thin Mints."

"Forgive me, Skinner, for I have sinned!" cried Maureen.  "I can
either stay clothed, such as I am, or present you with the Thin Mints
of Homage!"

"Take them off!" yelled Kelly, who was now wearing green face paint.
"Show him the proper reverence, woman!"

Skinner winked at Maureen (causing any and all Cult of Skinner members
inside the hallucination to immediately faint).  "Not a bad idea,
Maureen." He said in His wonderful, rumbly voice.  "Of course, I could
come take them off <for> you..."

Diane shook her head inside the hallucination and turned away.  This
was getting too weird, even for a woman in a coma.  Besides, she
didn't find Skinner especially attractive.


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


Diane in Wonderland
Virtual Hallucinatory Birthday Bash (VHBB)

By Spifff, Unaffiliated
Day/time:  Tuesday, August 6th, 12:06am
Location:  Diane's room at the hospital

NOTE:  As in the other VHBB posts, this is a dream that Diane
Echelbarger is having. It has no basis in virtual reality.
Hallucinatory Time : 7.05pm
Immediately following VHBB Surprise by Lana Soward


Diane began to shrink. Soon she faced a giant cake but unlike Alice,
found no note saying "Eat me". She took a deep breath and blew with
all her might on the candles. The smoke detector started to sound and
the sprinkler system began spraying water on the assembled guests, now
towering over her.

Immediately 5 large tuna (bearing an uncanny resemblence to a certain
Charlie) jumped out of the cake and began chorusing:

HOPPY BUNNIES TO EWE, HIPPIE BENNYS IN GOO, HEPTA-HERRINGS TO YOU,
HYPER BEAGLES ARE BLUE.

Terrific, thought Diane, now my hallucinations are producing reruns of
my e-mail. The large cat seated beside her grinned and began slowly
vanishing until all that was left was his smile.


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


The Muppets (and others) Take the Raven
Virtual Hallucinatory Birthday Bash (VHBB)

Written by Tina Cooling (Bast)
Nick&NatPackers

Occasion:  Diane's hallucinatory birthday party
Site:  Diane's hospital room

Diane moaned in her sleep as though her dream was troubling.  After a
moment, her brow smoothed and she fell once more into a deep sleep.
To sleep, and perchance to dream...  To dream of the continuing
birthday party at the Raven.

Time:  6:45p


The Nick&NatPackers crowded into the Raven at 6:45, formally attired
and ready for a nice, relaxing party.  Unfortunately, with 30 or so
Nick&NatPackers around, things were bound to *not* be relaxing.  Fun,
yes, as well as chaotic.  Relaxing, though was very likely out of the
picture. John Folden stopped everybody at the door and handed them
Muppet dolls--Kermit Knight and Natalie Hambert, Janet, Rolf, Animal,
and many others went out to the gathering.  Mel, on her way in,
happily took an Animal doll.  "These are really cute, John!"  She
exclaimed.  "This was a good idea!"

Ray Heuer, dressed immaculately in a tuxedo, accepted them gingerly
and strode into the bar, followed quickly by Idalia, in a beautiful
black silk dress, grumbling about the timeline being off and if the
N&NPack had only asked her, she could have gotten everyone here at
"the right time," whatever that was.

Gayle was next in the Raven, dressed in a stunning black gown with a
heart neckline.  Tina walked in just behind her, wearing a skirt made
of amethyst velvet, with a matching top, and black lace-up boots to
complete the outfit.

One by one, all the Nick&NatPackers entered the Raven, barely noticing
Nick and Nat sneaking in through the back.  LaCroix was there, Cousins
thronging around him.  Janette hovered in the background, dressed in a
blood-red gown.

Laura made her way up to the front of the room, dragging Diane with
her.

"Attention, everybody!" she said.  The Nick&NatPackers turned towards
the two up in the front, not noticing Janette and Nat sitting in the
back chatting, occasionally throwing dirty glares at Nick.  "Diane,
for everything you've done, the Nick&NatPack found this for you," said
Laura as she handed a rectangular package to Diane.

Opening it, Diane found a first edition copy of _Anna Karenina_.  She
smiled at the Nick&NatPackers and thanked them all before tossing
handfuls of Muppet dolls out to the crowd from the bucket John had
left there earlier.


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


Humor ala Dali  (01/01)
Virtual Hallucinatory Birthday Bash (VHBB)
By The CERK Jerks, Gehirn Karies and Leslie GrantSmith, Cousins
Out of timeline
Location:  Diane's room at the hospital (2:29 am)

NOTE:  This is a dream that Diane Echelbarger is having.  It has no
basis in virtual reality.

The crowd in the Raven was drunk on darkness.  The crowd and the night
were at their best, gloomy and overcast.  A contingent of Knighties
sat in the corner, discussing either shopping, Mesopotamian bricks,
Nick Knight or something only a Knightie or a historian could get in a
dither over, and Suze, Kathy and a crusade of assorted Knighties were
all in a dither.  Karies noted the large air shaft just over them with
a more than passing interest.

Diane wondered what Karies was doing at her party ... Karies hated
parties ... she loomed in the corner at bars, undressing the men with
her eyes.  Well, most of the men.  She actually had a smirk on her
face, and looked like she was having fun.  "She was charting that
obsessive `Nick's Search For A Cure' time-line last month and I was
the only Listie who offered any input.  She wouldn't ruin *my* party,
would she?"  Diane's heart skipped a beat.  Of course she would.  She
hurried over to her, to ask her what she was  up to.

Just as she was about to grab Karies, Diane was caught by Nick Knight,
who complemented her on a fine crowd of friends and acquaintances and
dragged her off to meet the Baroness, a six foot ten inch tall
transvestite, the tallest in TO, surely, he bragged. Diane, always
thrilled to meet friends of Nick Knight's, and even gladder to be
close enough to Nick Knight to see if he *did* keep a hamster in his
pocket, forgot about the mischievous Cousin in Question.

"Where is he then?" Karies asked the Knighties, forgoing any greeting
or apology for interrupting their intellectual babble. "You say he's
alive, that LaCroix didn't kill him.  Well, where is he?"  She
gestured about the bar tauntingly.

"He was just here a minute ago, he's around."

"Yeah, uh-huh!  I'll believe it when I see it."  Karies walked off,
ignoring the Knighties' protests.  She passed by a gaggle of
fabulously dressed and never over-indulgent Raven/ettes, putting on
her shades to shield the dazzle of their opalescent flesh against the
pure black of their dress.

Diane left Nick Knight, who definitely had something of his own
interest in his pocket, and cruised the club looking for Karies. She
stopped to listen in on a conversation Lana and Jane were having with
a couple of good looking twin men.

"But ... but I could have sworn your last name was `Flatulence,'" Lana
was protesting.

"Ah, what's in a name?" one man said.

"A rose, etc.," added the other.

"Though," put in the first, "Rose ... Flatulence ... one could
definitely say one is more mellifluous than t'other."

The bulkier twin jeered, "What, Flatulence?  It suits you well."

His brother sneered, and sticking his thumb in his mouth, flicked it
off his front teeth at him.

Outraged, the man demanded, "Do you bite your thumb at me, sir?"

The thumb-biter leaned over to Jane and whispered, "Is the Warmistress
of our side if I say `ay'?"

"N-no," stuttered Jane.

He straightened up and replied breezily, "No sir, I do not bite my
thumb at *you*, sir.  But I bite my thumb, sir."

"Do you quarrel, sir?" barked the other, pulling out a nerf sword and
waving the wobbling thing threateningly at his brother, who pulled out
a sword of his own.  Laughing, they jumped up on the bar and began
fencing back and forth across its slick surface, nimbly stepping among
people's drinks.

Shaking her head, Diane moved on, passing Thomas, Felix and the human,
Patrick, brewding in the corner, talking very stoically of Jubjub
birds and Bandersnatch and Jabberwoks.

Karies narrowed her eyes as she drew in on a table of far too Cousinly
Cousins.  They were glaring at poor dear Perky Cousin Will, who was
encased rather deliciously in a straightjacket.

"Group foreplay?" she drawled, flicking the back of Marg and Tammy's
heads with her finger.

"No!" said Lax rather grumpily.

"He was caught being ... being...." Anne stammered.

"Perky!" Julie spat.

Will grinned.  "I ... I guess it's un-Cousinly."

"Pshaw!" Karies said, uncharacteristically (Hey, this isn't my
hallucination.)  "Nothing is un-Cousinly, gosh darn it, you've been
hoodwinked."  She dragged the un-willing young man into a dark corner.
"I'll let you out, Perky-man, if you'll do me one small favor."

"Uhm ... okay, as long as it's all in good fun and nobody gets hurt,
I'd be glad to help."

"Knock off the perky crap, Will, the show's over."

"What show?"

Karies handed the canisters up to Will, who barely fit in the
ventilator shaft.  "Now, tell me again why I'm doing this?" he asked.

"Because Diane is hallucinating and she apparently thinks somewhere in
her unconscious mind that I am bigger than you, and if you don't do
this I'll button your perky lil' persona back up in that jacket."
Karies smiled uncharacteristically sweet.  "Capishe?"

Will slid out of the vent shaft a few minutes later.  "Wow, Will, you
smell of stale club air and the sweat of all the people here ... let's
meet at Jadfe in half an hour, okay?"  Will looked suitably
frightened.

"C-can I go join the party now?"

"Sure, enjoy."

Karies walked over to the buffet table in time to hear Janette raving
about the hors d'oeuvres.  "You see, LaCroix, you just put on a little
bit of cheese, shrimp, lox, olives or veggies.  I mean, they are so
clever, it's just as they advertise, open a box and you have a snack!"

LaCroix looked truly worried, and sniffed Janette's drink.  "And how
long were you ... playing house with this Rupert?"

Karies' gaze was distracted by the rather violent way Susan Garrett
dipped a chip into the guacamole chilled in the shape of a caddie.
"Rye, damn you, Rye!" she raged.  "I asked for rye and I get blue
corn, every time."

Cousin Leslie slithered up to Karies side just in time for LaCroix to
order her around.  "Leslie," he said, grinning as he did, knowing she
would do anything he asked once she saw that baby-faced smile, "would
you be so kind to bring me an un-contaminated Red from the beer
fridge?"

Karies kneed her friend.  "What?" Leslie asked, trying to look
confused.  LaCroix rolled his eyes and shoved the empty bottle he had
in his hand at her, refusing to give them the thrill of repeating
himself.

"Another of these."

Leslie hurried to the beer fridge, Karies dogging after her and Diane
dogging Karies.  "What are you Jerks up to?" Diane demanded.

"Oh, dear Diane, chill!  Leslie is beat and not up to anything.  I
went AWOL yesterday, or was that AOL?  Leslie, I wouldn't open the
beer fridge if I were you.  Anyway, Diane, I would never ruin your
party, I am merely bringing in a touch of ... early third season."

"What?  Oh no!  You can't be serious!"

At that fearful accusation from the birthday girl, the air
conditioning kicked on, and a tiny interconnected device switched on
with it and everywhere where Cousin Karies had spotted brewding,
grouchy, war-weary, far too serious or humor impaired Forever Knight
Fans, and had Perky Cousin Will place a canister of Forever Perky
Laughing Gas above them, the humorless chuckled, coughed, giggled,
gagged, guffawed, grumbled, oh, they resisted, but even the most stoic
FK fan broke down, and got giggly and downright perky.

The crusading Knighties screamed in unison, "Rage, Rage, Rage against
Laughing at the Knight!"  But then Kathy hollered, "Iceberg! Iceberg! 
Romaine, too!  Hard to starboard!"  And the Knighties laughed freely
and openly, and heads of lettuce, socks and nerf bats flew.

Tigon, whose table was in a downdraft and was accidentally pelted with
gas was laughing so hard she was howling, and Timon fell over laughing
onto the bowl of crackers Tigon had been munching on, but was laughing
too hard to munch.

Vachon laughed so hard he forgot to account for his vampire strength
when he blinked and he knocked himself down.  Apache came to his aid,
but the usually cheerful woman, when struck by the gas looming around
Vachon, became absolutely giddy and tried fervently to count exactly
how many grammatical faux pas were being committed in this post.

Leslie, who would rather not disappoint LaCroix, opened the beer
fridge, and peaches began pouring into the Raven, billions and
billions of the freshest, ripest peaches.  Leslie and Miklos tried to
close the fridge, but as if possessed by Divia-madness, the fridge
only grumbled louder and spat out more of the precious gifts. Leslie
grabbed a peach, jumped on top of the fridge and chortling, "Millions!
Millions for me!" sank avid teeth into the fruit's Lucious flesh.

LaCroix, giggling like the school girl he was fantasizing he would be
in the early morning Cousinly role playing, plaid skirt and all,
grabbed the P.A. system mike and roared, "It's amateur night at the
Raven....  Let's get ... Latex!"

Ray, Nick, Screed and The Baroness moved onto the stage, rolling out
the cart of latex body paints, dressed for their Karioke rendition of
`YMCA.'  Seeing Nick dressed to perform his favorite song, LaCroix
groped at something ... oh, the system to release the controls back to
the machine.  He didn't even notice Jamie, the Illustrated One, and
Nat fighting over who would be the first with the fuscia body paint.

Nat, being snarky and a bit tanked, thank you very much, won out
and....  Watching the two women battle it out wore Diane down, and she
sat and cried, because it was, after all, *her* party.

The peaches rolling about the floor created a realm of surrealism, and
Diane began to melt to the chair, which was melting to the floor.
Vachon began to melt and slipped from his stool.  Apache melted into
him, a beautiful dark pool forming at the foot of the bar below their
stools.

Perry sniffed at the pool and whimpered.

Nat was covered in fuscia body paint, and her expression as it dried,
pulling at her flesh, was of pure joy.  Nick grabbed her by the elbow,
and slipping into a goofy dream sequence where they both wore broad
grins, they melted into a fuscia puddle at LaCroix's feet.

Looking like a child who's ice cream had fallen off the cone,
LaCroix's lower lip began to tremble.  He raised an arm dramatically
towards Diane, pleading with his eyes, holding out his open pocket
watch as he too began to dissolve into a puddle, a quivering, oozing
puddle, that floated off the stage carrying the pocket watch upon it
like a raft.  The cold metal of the watch melted, stretching and
sliding over the molten liquid that was LaCroix.

Diane, melting much slower than the others (Well, it is her
birthday.), looked around for clarity, reason in the illogical, the
unreal, the spontaneous.  And found none.

Karies melted into a shapeless, lifeless form -- oh wait.  No, that's
how she always looks, she's virtually unaffected, Diane mused,
narrowing her eyes to get a better look at the looming Cousin.  Her
ears were cauliflower, her nose a turnip, and she slumped to her
knees, grabbing her head and screaming, "Art school flashback!"

Happy Birthday, Diane.


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


A present for Diane
Virtual Hallucinatory Birthday Bash (VHBB)

A Present for Diane
by Lisa McDavid

This is part of Diane's hallucinatory birthday party and doesn't need
an exact time.
*********************************************************

Presently Diane found herself sitting on a couch in one of the back
rooms, with Tuppence on her lap. Lisa McDavid sat crosslegged on the
other end, quite a feat for one as verticality-challenged as Lisa
currently was. At the other end, on Diane's other side, sat Dustin
Nguyen. At least, he looked like Dustin Nguyen ....

Dr. Johnny Fever, Venus Flytrap, and Remington Steele all formed a
semi circle on the floor. LaCroix stood over them.

"So then I called Travis again," said Venus, "After I'd gotten my
shoes off the light-fixture --"

"Only by this time Rem and I'd just managed to lose the cops --" added
Johnny.

"I'm always telling Laura how useless a limousine is for chases,"
Steele commented.

"Especially when your pursuer can fly," purred LaCroix.

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

I promise this makes sense to Diane -- consider it an apology for not
mentioning her in the post where I started the conga line. It's also
an i.o.u. :)


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


Still Crazy After All These Years
Virtual Hallucinatory Birthday Bash (VHBB)
   by Dianne la Mercenaire <Cat.Goddess@pobox.com>
      (Happy Birthday, 1-n! ;-)

[Day/time:  Tuesday, August 6th, 12:04am]
[Location:  Diane's room at the hospital]

*NOTE:  This is a dream that Diane Echelbarger is having. It has no
basis in virtual reality.*

[Hallucinatory Time : After whatever must come before and before
anything that must come after]

{Count the "n"s in "Dian/ne" or risk even more confusion than
intended!}



As Dianne and Catheboo walked over she could hear them debating hotly
on what had actually happened to the Valley Girls (abducted by really
dumb aliens? or transported to Alaska as part of an evil, secret
government plot?-- you be the judge!). By the time they had segued
into the relative intelligence levels of domesticated and wild life
("I *swear*, caribou are _the stupidest_ creatures on earth, except
for lambs-- but they smell just as bad!"), they had reached Diane's
table.

The Unaffiliated found herself staring at the Merc's outfit. Not that
anyone was wearing particularly 'normal' clothes, but hers seemed
more-than-usually out-of-place.

Unless, of course, they'd suddenly time-warped back to Renaissance
England.

With a costumer's practiced eye she automatically calculated the work
involved in a shopkeeper's outfit like the one the Merc was wearing:
at least 3 fittings-- corset, chemise, hoopskirt, petticoat,
underskirt, overskirt, bodice, AND headdress. And middle-class meant a
good, solid fabric (probably a cotton jacard brocade, which is NOT
cheap), lots of hand-sewn trim, and probably 30-40 hours at the sewing
machine.

Coming out of her reverie as Catheboo wandered off Diane wondered
vaguely why she had had all that at the tips of her fingers.

"Where are the kitties?" Dianne demanded.

"Um...."

"*You didn't bring me kitties!*" the Merc managed to look as if she'd
just been informed of the death of a close friend--shocked, horrified,
in denial, the whole bit. "How *could* you?!?"

"I don't know what..." Diane began, but was interrupted by Dianne, her
face as happy and nonchalant as if it were an Etch-a-Sketch that had
just been shaken clean. "What are you having for dinner?"

The Unaffiliated opened her mouth to point out that the Raven didn't
serve meals (or at least not to the living), when she realized there
was a menu in her hands. It was less-than-helpful, however, as it
appeared to be written in Sanskrit.

"You really should try the clams." The Merc recommended. "They're
really very good here and you can do such *interesting* things with
the shells later...." She paused and frowned. "Why are you looking at
me like that?"

"Um... because your outfit is coming apart."

Dianne quickly looked down and realized she was right, the seams were
slowly separating, the hems unraveling....

"You haven't finished it!" she accused the birthday girl in a shocked
and outraged tone. "I did the NatPack raid and you haven't finished my
payment!"

"Well no," The Unaffiliated admitted. "I've been in this coma, you
see.... Come to think of it, I haven't even started it yet...."

"No!" the Merc cried out, a panicked look coming over her face as she
clutched the increasingly unwieldy fabric to her. "Don't *say* that!"
But by now there were no seams remaining at all and some of the less
intoxicated patrons were beginning to notice the GHP's frantic
attempts to maintain her dignity.

Diane watched as Dianne fought her way to the bar and was rescued into
one of the back rooms by Janette and some of the nearer Ravenettes.
She couldn't imagine what the Merc would look like when she emerged.

Her thoughts were distracted by the animals. Sydney and Ralph (the
feline actor who portrayed him) were making serious attempts on the
health and well-being of LaCroix's pet goldfish, Spike. Meanwhile,
Fred the Eagle had spotted Hazel the Bunny and a full-fledged chase
ensued. Soon the eagle was chasing the cats, who were chasing the
rabbit, who was chasing... the goldfish???

Diane's subconscious tried to make some sort of sense out of the
logistics required for *that* one, but quickly gave it up as a lost
cause and went off in vain search of a more sane segment of this
dream....


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


It's a bit windy this time of year.
Virtual Hallucinatory Birthday Bash (VHBB)
by Dawn Steele
Place:  The hospital -- Diane's bed.
Day/time:  Tuesday, August 6th, 12:04am
Location:  Diane's room at the hospital

NOTE:  This is a dream that Diane Echelbarger is having.  It has no
basis in virtual reality.  Hallucinatory Time : 9:30 pm, or whereever
Diane wants to put it. :)


Dawn wandered around the party. There was a dazed expression on her
face, and she was holding a very large plastic cup with green
fluorescent liquid inside.

The very large "Die-Hard University: Cubs" t-shirt she was wearing
flopped over her ballroom gown. Walking up to Diane at the bar, she
solemly handed her the large green tilley had she'd been wearing.

"Happy Birthday."

The green hat in Diane's hands turned into a very surprised looking
green parrot, that skuawked and then flew off to disappear into the
ceiling.

Dawn grumbled, and tried out a few of the curse word variations from
Red Dwarf.

Thunder rumbled, and lighting started coming down in the corner.

"You ever thought of trying to control your dreams?" Dawn screamed.
There was now what felt like a tornado force wind whipping through the
Raven and throwing everyone up in the air. People started doing
summersaults, and flips in the air, while the vampires just continued
dancing five feet off the ground.

"Control?"

"Lucid dreaming!" She tried to make herself heard, but the wind grew
another notch. "All you have to do is realize that this is a dream,
and you can change it!"

"This is a what?!?"

"A dream!!"

Suddenly, the wind stopped and everyone flopped down onto the floor.
Besides being wet, then dry, then wet, then... as Diane's subconscious
tried to figure out it wanted to bother having repercussions, the
partygoers continued on.

Diane turned around to see Dawn standing behind her in a black leather
mini-skirt, tall boots and a green tank top. "Why are you wearing
that?"

"Christina dressed me in it for the festival last Friday and I can't
get out."  She shuffled on the floor, and produced a miserable attempt
at tap dancing. "So LaCroix attacked you, and you're lying in the
hospital. Not a great place to see Toronto from."

"I'm lying in the hospital?"

"Yep!" Dawn scrunched up her face, and then started making weird
faces. It had been too long since she had stopped doing it to scare
her younger siblings. They had finally snapped a picture of what she
looked like, and she hadn't done it since. "Ugh! Eee! Yow-yow-yow!!!"

"Vachon attacked me -- he just took one look at my neck, and decided
it was time to break his fast."

"Vachon?" Dawn cupped a hand at her ear to hear better, because she
wasn't really paying attention. The sight of Natalie dancing with
Vachon wearing nothing but a leater jacket and a negligee was
distracting. "Too bad this is just a dream, or I'd remember it when I
woke up."

A large wall-size TV screen appeared behind them, and a parade of
look-alikes started marching in front of it to a Beatles tune. There
were a lot of them.  Suddenly, the turned to face Diane, gave her a
salute and disappeared into piles of popcorn.

"Hey! Free food!" Dawn slapped Diane on the back. "You sure know how
to throw a party!"

Then she grabbed a handful of popcorn, threw it in her mouth... and
turned into a tiny miniature of the sun, rose to the ceiling and
melted her way through.

----------------------
the end.

ps. Great idea! Hope you had a great birthday, Diane! :)


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


Gotta Pay A Merc
Virtual Hallucinatory Birthday Bash (VHBB)
by JamieMR

NOTE:  This is a dream that Diane Echelbarger is having.  It has no
basis in virtual reality.

==================

"Hey."

"What?"  Diane was more than a little confused, and justifiably so; it
had been a rather unnerving birthday party so far.

And it didn't look like it was going to get any better, because in
front of her stood a creature in a red-and-white Cat In The Hat hat, a
bright orange wig, a pair of silver mylar pants, multicolored platform
sneakers and a FORKNI t-shirt.

"You need this," it announced, and jammed something on her head.

When she recovered from her startlement, Diane found that she was
wearing an identical Cat In The Hat hat.  "Oh," she said doubtfully.

"It's an August birthday thing," the creature told her.  "We've all
got one," and she gestured toward Susan Garrett, who was also suddenly
and inexplicably wearing a Cat In The Hat hat and looking more than a
little distressed about it.

"Oh," repeated Diane, not understanding at all.

"And you need this," said the creature, and reached out, and suddenly
Diane found herself wearing a pink glittery collar with a little
silver bell on it.  "So that the next time you get yourself into
trouble, we'll know about it.  Trust me, it looks great."

"Oh?" Diane said warily.

"Now, if you'll excuse me," the creature added, and suddenly beside
her there appeared a second creature who looked remarkably like Fox
Mulder, dripping wet and wearing a towel, "I gotta go pay a Merc," and
she grabbed hold of the front of the towel, notebook and pen firmly
clenched in the other hand, and led the second apparition away.

=======================

Happy birthday, Diane.
Chris: we'll be in touch.


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


Diane Goes Looney Tunes
Virtual Hallucinatory Birthday Bash (VHBB)
By:  Lisa Prince (Mercenary Cousin with a really sick sense of
        humor who really shouldn't be allowed to watch Saturday
        morning cartoons ;))
Time:Wherever it fits into the grand sequence of the virtual
        birthday party
Place:  Diane's Hospital Room

*******************
NOTE:  This is a dream that Diane Echelbarger is having. It has no
basis in virtual reality.
*******************


Lying in her bed at the hospital, Diane smiled happily, rolled over,
and continued dreaming.


Diane sat at a table in the center of all the action at the Raven.
Everyone was coming up to give her birthday presents and she was happy
as a clam with the whole situation.

Bonnie and Lisa had snuck into the Raven in order to give Diane her
special present.  They lurked around the edges of the crowd, waiting
for Diane to be relatively free.  Finally seeing their chance, the duo
slinked over to where Diane was sitting and handed her the package.

"Owwwww," Diane said, "another present." She quickly tore the paper
off the package and pulled out the beautifully, gilded, gold frame.
Looking at it, she asked, "Is that a lock of Vachon's hair?"

At the exact moment that Diane uttered those words, Vachon looked over
toward her, noticed Bonnie, the naughty one, and the woman she was
standing with.  Something about the woman was very familiar.  Finally,
it hit him.  He pointed at her and shouted in his best Tweety-Bird
impression, "I taught I taw a haiwcuwter.  I did, I did see a
haiwcuwter."

Bonnie looked at Lisa, Lisa looked at Bonnie, they both looked at
Diane and said, "Oopsie."  Turning to face the approaching hunters,
Bonnie pointed at Lisa and said, "Lisa season."

To which Lisa pointed at Bonnie and replied, "Bonnie season."

"Lisa season," Bonnie wheedled and pointed as the group stopped and
stared at the pair as if they'd lost their minds (which was entirely
too likely).

"Bonnie season," Lisa whined, pointing.

"Lisa season," Bonnie replied

"Bonnie season," Lisa responded.

"Lisa!" Bonnie shouted.

"Bonnie!" Lisa bellowed.

"Lisa!" screamed Bonnie while jumping up and down and pointing
fervently at Lisa.

"Lisa!!" shrieked Lisa and pointed at herself.

"Bonnie!!!  Go get her!!" Bonnie shouted pointing at herself. Then,
glaring at Lisa, she said, "Damn, you're deeesssspicable, foiled
again."

Then, giggling insanely, the pair took off running in opposite
directions.

Half of the Vaqueros and Vachon took off after Lisa, The Infidel, the
other half took off after Bonnie.

What with the conga line snaking its way through the Raven, Lisa and
Bonnie had an outstanding opportunity to stay away from the Vaqueros. 
Weaving their way in and out of the conga-ers to the beat of the music
-- da da da da daaaa da, da da da da daaaa da --the pair was actually
have a good time for two woman who were about to be massacred.

Meeting in the middle of the room, Bonnie and Lisa grinned widely at
each other and then high-fived before taking off again. "See ya'
around Bugs Bonnie," Lisa chuckled.  "After a while Looney Lisa,"
giggled Bonnie.

Then, Lisa, being a bit of a wuss when it came to confrontations, went
and hid behind LaCroix -- being half Cousin has its advantages, don't
cha' know.  LaCroix glanced down at the woman abjectly hanging onto
his leg while swearing her undying, everlasting devotion and decided
that he'd keep her for a while. Raising a single, fuzzy brow at the
Vaqueros, LaCroix smiled wickedly and asked, "Would you like to play?"
The Vaqueros blanched significantly before turning to join the rest of
their group in chasing Bonnie.

Bonnie, unfortunately, was on her own, but, just as the Vaqueros were
about to catch her, Diane shifted in her hospital bed with a frown and
started thinking happy thoughts.


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


The Taking of Heads
Virtual Hallucinatory Birthday Bash (VHBB)
by: Cousin Candice

NOTE:  This is a dream that Diane Echelbarger is having. It has no
basis in virtual reality.

Hallucinatory Time : It just doesn't matter.

Candice hadn't seen Diane E. all night, and she'd been at the party
for hours.  She even had a little birthday gift for her, all tied up
in ribbons and bows!

Suddenly, as if in some psychotic state, Maureen the Mad (for that is
what Candice will always know her as...chocolate-eating , gun-toting,
pinstripe-wearing MAD!!)  flung herself to the floor to Candi's right.

"Serves her right, side-switching conformist...."she mummbled.

Then there was a Skinner (SO out of place, I think so, yes), and there
was a conga line in the Raven.

No no, this HAD to be some sort of bad dream.  In fact, it was, and it
got worse.

Dianne De Sha walked in.

Candice felt her magic pocket tingle and with a little fizzle of
electricity and the suspicous smell of burnt oak, Candice had her
bokken in hand, advancing rapidly upon Dianne.

"YOU!" Candice pointed at Dianne with her bokken, "You MIS-spelled his
NAME!"

Dianne gaped at the near-to-fuming woman pointing a wooden practive
sword at her.  No one was going to talk to her like that and get away
with it. Not without paying for it, anyway.

"Misspelled WHO'S name?  And just who the heck are you, hmm?" Dianne
questioned in her best I'm-The-Grand-High-Poobah-So-Batter-Up-Buster
voice.

"I'm Candice.  Cousin Candice."

"Oh."

"I hired you for one of your very first jobs, missy.  You'd be NOWHERE
without me, and the rest of these Warriors.  The very LEAST you could
do is get the spelling right!  Now draw your weapon and take it like a
Merc."

Dianne whipped out her Shillelagh of Ultimate Destruction and met
Candice's challenge.  She had this suspicious feeling this had
happened here before....

[So Where did the rest of this post wind up?  In my Highlander
Chronicles of course!
It'll be on the web-page as soon as I can get access to it again...]


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BOOGY FEVER AT THE RAVEN
Virtual Hallucinatory Birthday Bash (VHBB)
By Kris Willms (with the blessing of Laura and Mel) and the NNP

Place: Diane's hospital room
Time: After the virtual B-day party

*********************************************************************
This is part of the dream Diane Echelbarger is having.  This does not
happen in virtual reality.


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


Diane sat in thenow quiet Raven, surrounded by her gifts and alone
with the memories of the evening.  It had been a strange night.  A
feeling deep in her psyche was telling her it wasn't over yet.

S8uddenly, she heard music.  It was very faint.  She looked around to
see where it was coming from.  Nothing seemed out of order.  As she
loked around, the music grew louder.   At first, the song sounded
familar, but she could not put her finger on it.  Determined to get to
the bottom of this, she listened closer to try to pin point it's
direction.  To her surprise, it was coming from everywhere.  It
completely filled the Raven.  Then, getting a good listen, she relized
which song it was.

THE MARCERENA!!!!!!!!

She jumped up and started looking around for any hidden devices, but
she couldn't find any.  The music was just THERE.

Puzzled, she turned around to gather her things and leave.  Just then,
she heard the front door open.  She leaned forward to see who was
there.  She could make out the silhouette of LaCroix.

"I had nothing to do..."  Her jaw dropped.  Shr could not believe what
she saw.

It was LaCroix all right.  He was followed by all the Cousins.  All of
them were wearing the same outfit; a lime green tank top and neon
orange spantex pants!  The only difference was that LaCroix had "LC"
in rhinestones on the front of his top.  And their hair!  It was
colored bright purple!  If this wasn't enough to make anyone question
their sanity, right before her eyes, LC and the Cousins began
dancing..The Marcerena!

She was in shock for a while.  When she finally regained some of her
ablity to speak, all she could manage was, "You left home looking like
that?"

What happened next was unthinkable.  LaCroix looked at her and SMILED!
Not a smirk, not a grin, an all out, I'm-happy-to-be-alive smile
adored his face. Then he spoke, "We'd be honored if you would join
us."

"I don't seem to be dressed for it, thank you."

Several minutes passed and the song still played, and they still
danced. Diane relized that the song should be over by now, yet it
still played. Would it play forever?  Would this scene go on for all
eternity?  She felt like she was in the Twilight Zone, and there was
no way out.  All she could do is stand there, in shock, and watch.


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                           End War 7 File 8
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