********************************************************************* War 7 File 9 ********************************************************************* A Call for Muscle Steve Townsley, Woofpack's MuscleWoof Tuesday 6 August, about 2 AM The dogs were all fed and just lazing around the Fang Gang hangout. Steve had been going around giving each one some personal attention with petting, hugs & stuff (Hey, vampuppies need lovin's too). Scotch, his vampuppy Terrier was in a playful mood. She rolled around on her back at his feet demanding to have her belly rubbed and scratched. Steve chuckled then kneeled down and obliged the little grey dog. Just then Tigon came down the stairs with Timon under her chin. Scotch, hyped up and in a playful mood, spotted him and immediately flew towards the vamprat. Timon saw the game coming and flew off of Tigon for a round of chase. Steve looked at Tigon and grinned. They both knew it'd be only a few moments before it was Scotch who'd be chased by Timon, just another round of a game that'd been played out several times this week. It was *kinda* funny once you got used to having these two small creatures flying around the house at warp speed chasing each other. "Uh, Steve," Tigon said weakly with an edge to her voice. She was tired of the game by now and looked like she was ready to go home. "Yeah Tigon, what's up" he answered. "It looks like it's almost time for that little job to be done that the Woofpack has been asked to help with. Becky's on her way down." "Kewl!" Steve exclaimed, ducking as Timon zipped by his ear and the flying chase Terrier nearly careened into his head. Tigon chuckled as Steve lost his balance and bounced his muscular frame off the wall. "That does it" he mumbled, looking around to see where the the two gamesters would appear. "SCOTCH!! TIMON!!" Steve barked in a command voice worthy of the toughest drill sergeant as they appeared again for another pass. "COOLIT!!!" The flying duo came to an abrupt halt. They knew that once the MuscleWoof had been ired that playtime was over. "C'mere Girls," he said with a click of his tongue. Immediately his Rotty-mix Athena and his shepard Gorgeous were at his side. He pulled a set of keys from his pocket and jiggled them. The rest of the packs' ears came alert as well. "Woofpack, UP," he commanded. They all knew something was coming and they were ready. The MuscleWoof had spoken. ********************************************************************* Hanging from the ceiling... (01/01) By: Berg Oswell, Mercenary Time: August 6th, around 2am Place: Roof of Nick's loft, inside Nick's Loft The glider flight was uneventful, even restful. Unfortunately, you can't pilot a glider and eat crackers at the same time. Bummer. I love crackers, although I'm not sure why. After landing on the roof, I removed my glider, and crept over, hopefully unheard, to the skylight. As I started to gently break in, trying not to damage the skylight, I muttered "Why does a vampire have a skylight?" under my breath. Once I had a hole large enough to fit through, I attached my ropes to the roof edge, and lowered myself through the hole. Using the utmost care, I climbed upside down across the ceiling, using a pair of climbing claws to adhere to the rafters. Despite my faith in my tools, I still tied off the rope every five feet. Wouldn't do to fall down among the Knighties. After finishing the rope-stringing, I donned my nightvision goggles, and looked around for my target. Yup, there she was, near the back. Lowering myself down the rope, I stopped just above her suitcase. Now, according to my sources, Dotti was a good source of Pajamas. Nice, black silk ones. Coincidentally, Nick wears that kind. As I opened the suitcase, Dotti rolled over in her sleep, causing me to gain a few more gray hairs in my future, and give me a bad case of the shakes. Easing the suitcase open, I dug through it, found the pajamas hidden in a secret compartment at the bottom, and stuffed them into my pouch. Slipping out the substitute pair, I placed them in the suitcase's compartment, closed it, and climbed back up. One last stop, to place a set of pinhole cameras so they could see Nick's room, his closet, and his bathroom. Once that was done, I moved back out into the main room, back up my rope, and onto the roof again. Rope is cheap, and the Knighties might find a use for it some day, if they ever get it off the ceiling. After placing my booster transmitter where it wasn't likely to be found (namely, down a ventilator), I grabbed my glider, suited up, and flew away into the night, cackling like a mad cousin (is there any other kind?) Fifteen minutes later, I dropped off my pouch with the woman who hired me, collected my fee, and headed home. As I wended my way back to Merc Central, I found myself wondering. *Will* Dotti try to get Nick to wear those polyester brick-print pajamas I left, or will she chicken out? Only time, and chocolate, will tell. *MUAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!* <--- Mad Cackle (tm) ********************************************************************* WE MUST BE POWERFUL, BEAUTIFUL, AND WITHOUT REGRET (01/01) by Bonnie Pardoe (Vaq, US) and the other Urchin Sympathizers (erica and Bianca Hall, Dawn Steele, Felicia Bollins, Tara O'Shea, Spifff, and Christina Kamnikar) Tuesday August 6th, ~ 2am inside the Raven ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Vachon entered the Raven a couple of hours after it had opened for the night. While the antics of his mortal followers did amuse him, he needed to get away for a while. He grabbed a glass of the House Special from the bar, then found an empty booth against the wall near the back. Bonnie was on stage singing as usual and Vachon settled back in his seat to listen. For the first time, he was glad that this Vaquera- songbird was not a blonde. Being at the Raven was more of a reminder of Urs than he thought it would be. He missed Urs, and couldn't believe that she was really dead. He wrapped himself up in the music and lost himself in the words Bonnie was singing: "You and I will meet again/ When we're least expecting it/ One day in some far off place/ I will recognize your face...." A pretty strawberry-blonde crossed in front of him at that moment and distracted him from the music. She was really attractive, with her short wavy hair, and.... "Urs?" Vachon barely breathed the name. \\It can't be her. She's dead.\\ Except for her hair, the resemblance was incredible! In an instant, Vachon was standing in front of her, blocking her way. "Excuse me, please." \\That voice! It *is* Urs!\\ "Urs! You're alive," Vachon was elated. "Um... yes," she gestured slightly with her hands. "Last time I checked." "Urs, I can't believe it's really you!" Urs narrowed her eyes at the almost long-haired vampire. "Excuse me, but do I know you?" Vachon was stunned. \\How can she not know me?\\ "It's me, Urs. What's the matter with you? Don't you recognize me?" She shook her strawberry-blonde locks. "I'm your Master, Urs." "I don't have a master," she answered directly. "I don't answer to anyone but myself." She then brushed past him. \\What's the matter with her?\\ He grabbed her arm. \\Maybe if I take her back to the church -- maybe Torrey can help me with her.\\ She tried to pull away from him, stepping back and into the puddle left by a previously, and conveniently, spilled Harvey Wallbanger. Her foot slipped and she fell backward, cracking her head soundly on the edge of a table and knocking herself unconscious. No one in the club, with the dim lights and the noise of the music and the crowd, seemed to notice what had just happened. Vachon kneeled down next to Urs, and after a moment her eyes fluttered open. "Javier?" Her memory had finally returned. "I'm here, Urs." She was still a bit woozy. "Wha... what happened?" "You fell and hit your head. Here, let me help you up." He steadied her with a hand on her elbow. "Come on, let's get you out of here." "No." Her voice was soft, but the tone was firm. "Urs, come on." He started to pull her toward the door. "Javier, leave off. I'm not going anywhere with you." She was adamant. Vachon did not understand why Urs was acting so weird. "Urs, what's the matter with you?" "Nothing's the matter with me. The matter is with you. I said I'm staying here and you're not listen to me as usual." "Of course I'm listening to you, but let's talk about this elsewhere. Come on." He started toward the door again, her elbow firmly in hand. "Javier! I have my own life now; I have my own friends. I can make my own decisions and you don't need to take care of me any more." He stared at her for a long moment and furrowed his brows. "But Urs, I'm worried about you." "Don't be. Worry about your mortal friends, that Tracy-girl and those Vaqueros. They need you now." Urs stared up into her former-Master's eyes -- eyes she used to love to look into, to lose herself in. She had always given control of her life over to the one she thought she loved, only to realize that he never truly loved her. \\You don't love me, Vachon, and you never will. I know that now,\\ she thought to herself as she gazed at her reflection in his eyes. \\And, somehow, it doesn't matter because I... I was never really in love with you. I was in love with a fantasy, with someone who never actually existed.\\ Urs smiled sweetly up at Vachon as she put her hand on his chest and pushed him gently to arm's-length, "Good-bye, Javier." Vachon stared at her for a few moments. For the first time in the nearly five hundred years of his existence, Vachon simply did not know what to do or say. It slowly dawned on him that the mental bond which had been between them for the last hundred years was indeed gone. Urs was no longer his and she no longer needed him. He looked at her one last time and saw a light in her eyes that had never been there before, and there was a confidence and an independence in her bearing. \\You're all grown up, Urs. And it's time to let you go.\\ Vachon returned her smile, though his was tinged with sadness. He laid his hand gently over hers before turning silently and leaving the Raven. Urs watched Vachon leave and then continued to stare at the door for several minutes. She shook the image of Vachon's retreating figure from the front of her mind, then made her way over to the stage. When Bonnie finished her song, Urs motioned to her. "May I sing one song with you now?" She agreed and gave Urs a hand up onto the stage. The two old friends hugged briefly -- it had been years since they had sung together and they were both excited about it. Urs informed everyone of her choice of song and the music started up again. After the four measures of intro, Urs began the first verse: "I got a new life/ you would hardly recognize me/ I'm so glad/ how can a person like me care for you/ why do I bother/ when you're not the one for me/ is enough enough." Bonnie joined Urs for the chorus: "I saw the sign and it opened up my eyes/I saw the sign/ life is demanding without understanding/ I saw the sign and it opened up my eyes/ I saw the sign...." ********************************************************************* Bears, elephants, and... baby chicks? (1/2) Author: Dawn Steele -- Merc. Place: Nick's loft. Date: Tuesday, August 6th (3:20 am) Nick's security system wasn't very effective. Actually, compared to some of the systems of the other affiliations, the Knighties didn't have much security at all. A few deadbolts (pickable), metal shutters (controlled by a electronic system which could be overridden), and ... hordes of Knighties (the hardest to get rid of). But then again, most attackers know that the best way to defeat a security system is to get the parties behind it to move to a more vulnerable location -- espescially if the attacker was properly brought up and doesn't really know how to break into places. In the wee hours of Wednesday morning, Knighties were sprawled all over the loft floor (again). Blankets, sleeping bags, stuffed toys, pillows, and sleeping bodies were everywhere. Two sleepy Knighties were upstairs in Nick's bedroom keeping him "company" (and making sure he didn't wander off). They hadn't been part of the original bodyguard volunteers, but as the leaders of the Knighties, they had taken over the dawn shift. It wouldn't do for any Knighties to get the idea, and try to snap more pictures of Nick as he changed into sleeping garb. There had been entirely too much of that during the last War. Nick's cellular phone went off, and he managed to get it before Catherine or Perri could grab it. "Hello?" "I know what you're looking for," a mysterious voice said. There was an electronic masking device being used, and it made the voice slurry and distorted. "What?" Nick said cautiously. In the last few days he had learned that numerous little brown books had been rumoured to have been found. Far, far too many for his liking. In fact, he'd been a little amazed at the number of brown leather books in Toronto -- they all seemed to have been identified as his. "Brown leather, with page after page of very interesting financial information." The voice paused. "Perhaps Tax and Revenue Canada would be interested? I even found a couple of notes speculating on how much income to declare." Nick winced, gripped the phone a bit harder, and started to pace. "What do you want?" He never should have let Janette talk him into trying out 'creative accounting' with his tax forms, but it was so hard to figure them out! "You, alone, at warehouse (i.e. False Witness and numerous others)... in twenty minutes. Be there." Nick stared at the dead cell phone. The whole conversation had been something out of a bad movie, not a FK war. Someone had certainly gone overboard on the melodrama. He hurriedly explained the gist of the phone call (w/o revealing the location of course), and then left despite their protests. The ability to move almost faster than the eye can see came in handy at times. Catherine and Perri woke up the rest of the Knighties of course, with Mass confusion erupting. Nick was out in the midst of Toronto, their guidance, understanding, help, love, forgiveness, protection, enthusiasm and... common sense. A horrifying thought. Just when they were about to declare a street by street search of all Toronto -- the phone rang. Perri stepped over a blue sleeping bag on the floor, and picked up the receiver. "Hello? ... Oh." She shoved the phone over to Catherine. "It's for you." She put it to her ear. Whoever was on the other end of the line was smirking. Catherine could tell just by the quality of the silence. "This is Cath." "Moo!" An satisfied sounding chuckle. "Missing something?" "Cherri! What have you done with him!" Catherine twisted the phone cord around her fingers. If Cousin Cherri had Nick... "I can truthfully say, that I do not have anyone with me at the moment. I just called to convey how happy I am to be out of the cow suit at last, and how much I that little exercise session outside of CERK the other day." "What have you done with him!!!" Catherine practically screamed into the phone. Knighties tended to be a little paranoid about Nick's safety. For some reason (incomprehensible to them), quite a few of the affiliations enjoyed taking pot shots at him. "So, so irrational. Why don't we meet face to face and discuss this?" Cherri's voice took on a more serious tone. "Alone -- or you'll waste a lot of time trying to find him." "Where?" "Apartment 2B -- at 225 Standard Apartment Lane -- 15 minutes." end of part 1 part 2 answers the questions: a) does the writer actually have a plan or is she making it up as she goes along? b) what happens to Nick? c) what happens to Catherine? d) do the Knighties go back to sleep or get wired on coffee? e) why is it that the same apartment building is used over and over again? Only the author knows.... ********************************************************************* Bears, elephants, and ... baby chicks? (2/2) Author: Dawn Steele -- Merc. Place: Unidentified Warehouse, and the Cursed Apartment Building Date: Tuesday, Aug. 6th (3:45 am) Nick landed outside the steel doors. The lock on the door crumpled under the strength of his hands with an almost inaudibLe CRUNCH! The room inside was almost pitch black, and Nick felt his eyes change. All the objects in the room became outlined with varying degrees of red. With the experience of centuries of walking in darkness, he stepped inside. Unfortunately, he was looking at eye level instead of at the ground. Two steps inside, he felt something break and squish messily underneath his shoe. Less than a second later, his eyes started to tear and he became a trifle dizzy! Garlic! And then the floor dropped out from beneath him. The door slammed shut before Catherine had taken more than two steps inside the apartment. With a suddeness that made her shield her eyes, the strong overhead lights turned on. Catherine had a brief image of Cherri sitting in a recliner beside some sort of control panel before... >From overhead, a large barrel overturned to emit a large quantity of viscous, sweet scented, and sticky maple syrup. Before Catherine could move it coated her entire body. The warmed up syrup, cooled rapidly and Catherine found that she couldn't move her feet at all -- they were stuck solidly to the floor. "Cherri! Get me out of this!" "Why should I?" Cherri grinned and fingered the control panel for a minute. "I'm the one who paid for the pleasure of seeing you this way, concentrated maple syrup isn't nearly as nice as honey -- trust me. I know." "Where's Nick?" Ever aware of where a Knighties true priorities lay, she dismissed her own situation as less important. "The Merc I hired is taking care of that end of this." Cherri got out of the chair and moved closer, watching as Catherine tried futilely to move her feet. "They definitely have their uses... and resources." Cherri picked up a chain made up of cheerful plastic rings, and draped it over Catherine's neck. Pushing down on both of Catherine's arms, she made sure that they were both firmly stuck at her sides. "Did you know that I have these weird 'feelings' about certain dreams?" The Cousin picked up a small bib with small yellow ducks all over it, and tied it around Catherine's neck. "So when I heard about the Raven being redecorated like a nursery... it reminded of a dream I had." Hands on her hips, she surveyed the hapless Knighties. Things still weren't right. "It was quite strange. More of a dream within a dream." Cherri shuddered at the memory of LaCroix sucking out of a baby bottle. "I knew it couldn't be mine... and then I realized that it was yours." "This is nuts! You set all this up because of a dream you had?" "Well. The dream quite vivid, and we all existing in a state between waking and virtual dreaming at the moment. Why not?" Nick had regained his sight to find himself in what looked to be a baby nursery. The wallpaper was very cheerfully done with dancing bears, elephants wearing floppy hats and baby chicks with sailor costumes. A crib was in the corner, and plastic mobiles we're everywhere. In the background, Nick could make out a faint lulleby. Nick had never liked nurseries. They were a constant reminder of the gifts of mortality that might never be obtained. There didn't seem to be any doors in the room or the ceiling. No doors at all. He felt himself suddenly full of... angst. Catherine now had small plastic mobile blocks stuck all over her body, and a felt beenie over her hair. A large soother was between her teeth, preventing anything more intelligible than mumblings to be heard. She looked... picture perfect. Cherri had almost finished off the role of film. "You realize that you brought this on yourself, don't you?" Cherri thoughtfully stuff a small plastic cow to Catherine's shirt, set the timer on the camera and then walked behind her. She made bunny fingers behind Catherine's head and waited for the camera to flash. "You Knighties -- always getting yourselves into trouble." "There! Now I have to go." Cherri walked over to the corner of the room, pushed an cart over, and set it directly in front of Catherine. "I know the other Knighties have orders to come in after you after half an hour --you really should do bug searches regularly." So saying, she flipped the television set on. A black and white picture came into focus. It was Nick -- in what looked to be a nursery of some sort. "Oops! Almost forgot!" Cherri turned up the volume. Nick was pacing across the room back and forth. He looked a bid bored. In fact, he looked so bored that they both had a brief flashback to the Canadian first season eps where Nick lounged around his apartment for no apparent reason. Cherri looked at Nick. The poor guy looked like he was wallowing in angst. For a brief moment, she felt sorry for the poor guy. It wasn't his fault that he wasn't as glorious, dignified, handsome, intelligent (... is that enough Cherri? I'm running out of things to make up. -- ed.) a personage as the General. Suddenly, he stopped over to the small table and picked something up. Holding it up to his eye, the camera (and therefore the watchers) were able to see it better. It was a baby bottle filled with a dark liquid. After sniffing the tip for a second, he tried to screw off the nipple. They watched as the plastic bottle broke and sprayed blood all over the room. "You know... if you guys don't figure out where he is, then you enjoy the sight of Nick bottle feeding." Cherri then looked at Catherine. The Knightie was straining at the limits of the sticky syrup -- determined to get free, and get to Nick. It probably wouldn't take them long to figure out where he was. Espescially if Nick showed a modicum of intelligence and started speaking out loud. Will the recorder in the room with him, anything he said would be transmitted to the apartment. It had been a busy night, and she still had to transfer the Mercenaries payment. Cherri was glad that she had access to the General's money. Even invested over time, and considering she was in Canada, setting up an education fund for a Merc's new nephew wasn't going to be cheap. She left the door open on her way out. ********************************************************************* Veni, Vidi, Vici (1/3) by Tigon Diana Hooker/AlphaWoof~Woofpack Tuesday/6 AUG 1996/3:50am Toronto, CERK The two vans had already been there for ten minutes when Maryann asked, "Um, when is it happening?" Shrugging, Tigon replied, "I don't know. This is Lizbet's baby... she said she just wanted us for a show of force." "Well, if she keeps hiding behind that tree, we're going to run out of night," observed Steve. "You want I should go ask her what's up?" queried the reluctant AlphaWoof. "We want," answered Becky for the rest of the pack. Sighing as she approached the hiding Merc, Tigon promised herself that when this was over, she *WAS* going to Disneyland...hell or high water. "Soooooo, Lizbet...when are we getting this road on the show?" Lizbet peered up at her and said, "Um..." "You don't have a plan, do you?" "Um..." "Have you considered just asking him straight out?" "What, are you nuts?!?" blurted Lizbet. Tigon bit her tongue to refrain from mentioning that *she* wasn't the one carrying around Rosemund in her head, and pressed on. "You want me to handle this, don't you?" Immediately the merc gushed, "Oh, would you?" "Sure! Why not?" answered Tigon sarcastically, "I'm positive that the Cousins would have no problem with my marching in and borrowing their 'Uncle'...particularly after what I did to Cherri." Lizbet, however, was either oblivious to or ignoring the sarcasm, and continued staring at Tigon with grateful eyes. "Fine, okay...but if I miss seeing the Electrical Light Parade, heads are gonna roll!" The WoofPack Alpha strode back to the vans, a plan already forming in her head. "Maryann, you drive one of the vans and get Lizbet in the other. I don't care if you have to tie cans to her feet so she can reach the petals, I want us to be ready to tear out of here if we have to." Maryann nodded and went to drag the merc from behind the tree. Tigon turned to the other two, "Steve, I want you and Becky to split up the mortal dogs and cover the ground exits just in case any Cousins decide to give us a problem." They both nodded and Tigon noticed Becky's glasses dangling around her neck. "Beck... glasses?" The woman grinned and put them on. Steve asked, "Where will you and the vamppuppies be, Tigon?" Tigon grimaced and pulled Timon out of her sling, discarding the sling altogether before pulling on her heavy leather jacket. "Cum homine de cane debeo congredi." ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ Latin translations: Veni, vidi, vici-"I came, I saw, I conquered" Cum homine de cane debeo congredi-"I've got to see a man about a dog." ********************************************************************* Veni, Vidi, Vici (2/3) by Tigon Diana Hooker/AlphaWoof~WoofPack Tueday/6 AUG 1996/3:55am Toronto, CERK Tigon and the vamppuppies touched down on CERK's roof. Steve had asked her what she was going to do...she was making it up as she went. Cradling Timon in her right hand, she said to him, "Bird...Timon. Like Ghidrah and Rodan at home, only bigger." Rats were smart, very smart...smarter than most people gave them credit for, and smarter that quite a few people Tigon had met. Timon was one of the smartest of ratdom, and that was before vampirehood had upped the ante. "Make sure the big dark one follows the bird...out that door," Tigon indicated the roof door. Timon chewed affectionately on a tendril of her hair before disappearing into a vent. He buzzed through the ventilation system and found a way into the upper floor of CERK, quickly sniffing out the heavy bird odor of the eagle. Upon first sight of the bird, the little VampRat was taken aback...bigger that the cockatiels at home indeed! First Timon verified that the tall vampire who owned the bird was present in a nearby room, then he began the game in earnest by zipping up and attempting to honk a beak as big as his entire body. Naturally, the eagle did not take kindly to this manuever, and let out an enraged squawk. Perhaps embarrassed by such an ignoble noise emerging from his beak, the eagle repeated himself in more eagle-ly tones...consisting of a piercing shriek that caused Timon to throw little hands to ears, and LaCroix to swing open his door. "What...?" was all the distinguished vampire was able to get out before his eagle went after Timon. Even with enhanced speed, Timon was hard pressed to keep ahead of the bird, and literally knocked the roof door off its hinges in his haste to escape. He dove into Tigon's jacket (where a cracker was waiting for him) with the eagle a scant few feet behind. Tigon suddenly realized she had miscalculated...eagles looked *so* much smaller from a distance. Instinctively she threw her left arm up in front of her face, beaning herself with the cast again, and before the resultant stars had cleared from her eyes she felt a *very* heavy weight thud onto her arm. She thrust her right arm under her left in support and stared at the eagle perched on her arm. "Who's a pretty bird?" she automatically cooed. The pretty bird cocked his head curiously at her, obviously asking, "Who's the silly human?" He also seemed somewhat perplexed as to why she wasn't shrieking in pain from his raptor claws digging into her...and he wasn't alone. ********************************************************************* Veni, Vidi, Vici (3/3) by Tigon Diana Hooker/AlphaWoof~WoofPack Tuesday/6 AUG 1996/4am Toronto, CERK The fourteen vamppuppies on the roof growled warningly in tandem as LaCroix stepped over the door, eyeing the scene with apparent mild amusement. "Pardon me, my dear, but doesn't that hurt dreadfully?" He asked, meaning the eagle's claws that would normally have ripped her flesh from the bone. Well, actually it did, but from the weight on her broken arm. She looked up at the tall vampire (and up, and up), and said...all bravado, "Nope." Bushy eyebrows raised in disbelief. "Well, not too much." LaCroix strode confidentally through the rumbling dogs. "Um, cave canem...er canes." "Is that supposed to impress me?" "The Latin or the dogs?" He glowered at her. "Okay, both...the dogs because they're all vampires, and I think fourteen could give even you a problem, O-Slayer-Of-Raleigh. The Latin...well, the Latin is why I'm here in the first place." He now stood right in front of her, "If you are quite through with my eagle?" Tigon almost forgave him his role in Raleigh's demise when he effortlessly lifted the eagle off her trembling arm. With a flick, LaCroix sent the huge raptor back inside, then seized Tigon's arm, feeling the cast underneath her jacket. "Ah..." he said, dropping her arm as suddenly as he had seized it, riddle solved. "So, do you have a name, or shall I call you Miss Dolittle?" Tigon winced at the overused joke. "Tigon." The bushy eyebrows arched again, but no comment was made. "So then, Tigon," he said, placing his arms thoughfully behind his back, "Can you give me any reason why I shouldn't have breakfast right now?" "Um...other than the fact you can't kill or harm me because during the War?" "That tired old reason," he smiled pleasantly. "Even if I were restrained by your petty mortal rules...rules *were* made to be broken." Tigon had been more than a little concerned he might point those facts out. She debated her options...try to escape, try to use the pack's brute force, or...be blunt. "LaCroix, we just want to pick your brain about Latin." "Why...and who is *we*?" "Um, well, I'm not entirely sure. It's some sort of language research and I'm not sure who's entirely behind it. I'm just helping out my friend with her job." Tigon decided she reeeaaallly should have payed better attention to the details. "I see. So, your friend is a merc." He smiled coldly, "What do you get for helping?" Tigon looked at him in confusion, "Get? I don't understand...she's my friend, and she asked for help..." LaCroix's left eyebrow threatened to catapult off his head. "You'll never make a good merc with an attitude like that." "I don't wanna be a good merc, I want to be a good friend." For a second there was absolute stillness as the 2000 year old vampire studied the earnest young woman...perhaps briefly seeing another idiotically idealistic person standing before him. "I must be feeling magnamanous today...what's involved in this little excursion?" +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ Latin translation: Cave canem...er, canes-"Beware of dog...er, dogs." ********************************************************************* Bottle Feeding (1/2) by Knighties Amy Rambow, Karen Tobin and Katrinka (with Marcia Tucker and other Knighties, and the authorization of our Field Marshals) Date: Tuesday, Aug. 6, 1996 Time: beginning at 4:15 a.m., just before dawn, immediately following "Bears, Elephants, and ... Baby Chicks?" (2/2) Sets: The Apartment of the Darned Cath didn't have to stand there long after Cherri's departure. It was a few minutes at best; the Cousin was cutting it close. But every second seemed like an eternity to the Knighties' Co-Leader as she felt the maple syrup hardening around her. And even eternity seemed short as she stared at the television screen and calculated the ways in which this could be used to embarrass Nick. Fine thing to have your own subconscious turned against you, even in a War .... "Cath? Cath!" Marcia's voice carried easily into the room, reinforced by the calls of most of the other Knighties. Perri, Siona, Lauren and a few others had stayed at the loft, just in case -- both in case Nick came home, and in case this was a diversion of some sort. No one was going to find the loft undefended. Not this time, anyway. Cath tried to call out to the others, but the still-flowing goop filled her mouth inconveniently. "Mmmmph-um. Hnnnnnnh." "She's in here!" Katrinka yelled over her shoulder, her eyes glued to the confection that had been her Field Marshal. Many other Knighties stumbled into her as their eyes were captured by the same appalling -- and yet irresistible -- sight. She looked not unlike a Dire Wraith, from old Avengers (tm) comics, except that the cascading mucous [Moo-cus, Cherri?] was light brown instead of pale pink. As the Knighties filled the room, Kathy and several others felt distinctly queasy at the sight they beheld. It wasn't that they had anything against maple syrup, but this didn't even begin to fit into the long list of its known uses. "Can you move at all, Cath?" Robbi asked carefully, examining the bright objects pressed into the outer shell of syrup. The little cow icon was particularly fascinating. "She probably can't answer," Carrie asserted, stepping up capably and vigorously wiping Cath's face with a towel. Spitting out some fuzz with the last of the liquid sugar, Cath asked, "Carrie, *why* do you have a towel?" "Thirty Altarian dollars a day," a Knightie with many fandoms behind her grinned before Carrie could explain, and then bent down to examine the puddle of syrup. "Seltzer water. This is going to take seltzer water; syrup might as well be lemonade. I knew there was a reason for liking the seventh Doctor best ....." Her voice trailed off as she realized not only was no one listening, no one was examining their gooey mess of a Field Marshal any longer, either. she straightened up slowly, and found everyone had clustered around a television set. The camera work wasn't particularly good; in fact, it looked like one of those home video shows, and the nursery it displayed was .... "Nick!" Cath sighed, and began to explain to the backs of her compatriots. "Cousin Cherri had a Merc kidnap Nick and trap him in that nursery. The only sustenance is in those sealed baby-bottles." "Why would she do that?" Allison asked. Dotti frowned. "This isn't over those cows in CERK, is it?" "Actually," Cath said, giving up all hope of maintaining her dignity. "It's over a dream." "A dream?" Several of the Knighties chorused in unison. Cath sighed. "Go back and read 'A Good Dream.' There's no time for me to tell the whole story; we've got find Nick, and fast." "Actually," Nancy observed, "it's almost dawn. There's no way we can find Nick before the sun comes up. So, we've got plenty of time to hear the story _and_ get you cleaned up." "No!" Cath struggled in frustration against the goo that incapacitated her. "Nick's the first priority. You know that if we can see him, they can see him, and they must be taping, too. Do you _really_ want the Cousins to be in possession of a videotape of Nick drinking from a baby bottle? And that's human blood, too, I'm sure. Don't you think Nick's had _enough_ human blood for one war?" Allison thought about it. "But, even if we find him," she said, "he's still stuck in wherever that room is till dusk, and I'm sure the Cousins haven't provided any alternatives." "But I can!" Karen stepped forward. "I figured we'd better be prepared, so I brought along a bottle of cow blood from the loft. Just in case. And we can always get Nick back to the loft in the trunk of the Caddy." "Good thinking," Cath commended, as the Knighties contemplated the always-compelling thought of Nick in the trunk of the Caddy. "Look," Carrie said. "We've got to start doing something about Cath's situation, too. I suggest we split up: one group continues to search for Nick, the other gets Cath back to the loft." Carrie's suggestion made good sense, and more quickly than they would have thought possible, they organized themselves. One group started slowly, drippingly, gooily moving out to one of the waiting cars. The other turned its avid attention back to the televised images of Nick. --- Continued in (2/2) ********************************************************************* Modo Vincis, Modo Vinceris (1/1) by Tigon Diana Hooker/AlphaWoof~WoofPack Tuesday/6 AUG 1996/4:20am Toronto...in transit (Following 'Veni, Vidi, Vici') Maryann drove the van with Lizbet as passenger (having gratefully removed the cans so that Steve could resume driving duties of the other van). Curtained off in the back of the van were Tigon, LaCroix, and more dogs than anybody wanted to think about. "Tigonluck," muttered Lizbet. "She just walks right up with him and says, 'let's go, he's got to be back soon.' Me...he'd have ripped my head off." Laughing, Maryann said, "Yeah, I've seen her luck in action myself when I first met her in L.A. at the Weekend With-the-Actor-Whose-Name- Can't-Be-Used-Here-Lest-Lawyers-Pitch-Fits." Lizbet smiled, "If she dies, I get The Jacket." "No, I get The Jacket." "We probably shouldn't joke," frowned Lizbet. "Her luck seems to work both ways...incredibly good, then incredibly bad with no stops in between. She says it balances out." At a stop light, Maryann peeked through the curtain. "What's going on?" asked Lizbet. "You're capable of looking yourself." "I'd rather not advertise my presense." The Knightie/WoofPack liason looked at the merc and said, "Oh, I'm sure he hasn't recognized your voice three feet from his head." Lizbet tried to burrow further into the seat and frowned in worry. "Oh, okay," relented Maryann as the light changed, "She's bugging him about Latin." "Bugging...LaCroix...?" "Hmmm, yes. She was asking him why there was no word for the color orange, yet there are at least four words for the color yellow." "What did he say?" Lizbet perked up in interest. "I don't know...I'm trying to drive here. But he's beginning to look a little desperate...are we almost there?" Consulting a map, Lizbet cocked an ear towards the back...only to peep in abject startlement as LaCroix's head suddenly poked through the curtain. "Are we almost there?" he asked almost pleadingly. Then he noticed Lizbet, "Are you sure you haven't been paid to inflict your friend on me? I cannot fathom the way her mind leaps from subject to subject. We've discussed Latin, philosophy, ancient art, and whether or not Sam made the final Leap home! Now she wants to know why the Welsh language doesn't have any participles." Lizbet considered, "Why *doesn't* Welsh have any participles?" LaCroix pinned her to the seat with his gaze. "As I told her...ask Nicholas!" With that, he retreated back behind the curtain, only to find himself once again under the scrutiny of Tigon. "Okay, I can understand why you'd have that particular haircut... it's a practical haircut for a General. What I want to know is what the occasional bleach jobs are all about? Don't tell me it just naturally gets sun-bleached in the summer, either." Briefly closing his eyes, LaCroix said to the rabid AlphaWoof, "I will answer one, and one only, more question..." He left the threat unsaid. Tigon paused...clearly if this was her last question, she was going to have to make it count. Briefly considering the multitude that threatened to short out her brain, one finally rose above the others. Smiling, she asked, "What's your full Roman name?" This time both of LaCroix's eyebrows threatened to poing off his head. Then he gained his usual unpreturbed demeanor and said, "If I tell you, you must never tell another." Again, he left the threat unspoken. Nodding without hesistation, Tigon said, "I promise." For her, just knowing would be enough. LaCroix opened his mouth, then paused, peering suspiciously at the flimsy curtain. Leaning forward, he whispered the name into her ear. Tigon's eyebrows actually *did* poing off. Sticking them back on, she rode in silence the rest of the way. +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ Latin translation- Modo vincis, modo vinceris-"You win some, you lose some" ********************************************************************* Bottle Feeding (2/2) by Knighties Karen Tobin, Katrinka, Amy Rambow, and Marcia Tucker (with other Knighties, the permission of Idalia of the N&Npack, and the authorization of our Field Marshals) Date: Tuesday, Aug. 6, 1996 Time: beginning near 6 a.m., immediately following "Bottle Feeding" (1/2), continuing until around noon Sets: The Apartment of the Darned & That Warehouse (You Know the One) The remaining Knighties continued staring at the television, hoping to pick up some clues. For several minutes, they watched in silence, disheartened by the seeming impossibility of the task. "We've got to start searching!" Allison insisted. "But where?" Nancy and Julie asked in unison. They laughed at themselves, and Nancy added, "Do you suppose there's anything here that will help?" "Would Cherri be that obvious?" Robbi wondered. "You're asking that about someone who spent the better part of a year in a cow suit?" Marcia raised an eyebrow. "Maybe we should glue Cherri inside a REAL cow!" Sandra muttered distractedly. Their attention was drawn to the screen again, where they saw Nick discover the camera and the microphone. The group sighed in relief. "Maybe now he can tell us something useful!" Seeing Nick's resolute expression and noting the persistent silence, the group groaned in frustration. Clearly, Nick intended not to give his captors the satisfaction of acknowledging them. The intent Knighties continued to watch as Nick continued to search the apparently-seamless room for a way out. Finally, in frustration, he muttered something about having been dragged down to the warehouse. "Warehouse! Everyone KNOWS there's only one warehouse in Toronto!" Dotti declared. "Let's GO!" Kathy shouted. It took the group a while to find the secret room, even divided into several search parties, with each taking a floor. It didn't speed things along to have everyone constantly flashing back to all of the episodes that had ever used this location. In the basement, Katrinka finally uncovered what had to be a secret door. It looked a lot like the other panels, except for its concealed knob. She cried out in triumph, and she and Karen heard the various groups on the floors above begin their trip to the basement. She tried the knob, but it was locked. "Let me try," Karen suggested, but her attempt proved futile, too. "It's sealed, the room is completely sealed!" "It can't be!" Katrinka said, sinking dejectedly against the wall. "If it was completely sealed, Nick couldn't breathe." "But does he need to breathe?" Marcia panted, dashing down the stairs in front of the others. "Darn Cherri and her access to LaCroix's money!" they heard Julie comment, as the other Knighties began to join them. Frustrated with the apparent dead-end, they wandered down the hallway and found an open door. The room was filled with control panels, like a security officer's room. Or a recording studio. "Look, a monitor!" Karen pointed as they rushed in. "Nick!" "How are we going to get him out of there?" Carrie asked practically, trying not to dwell on Nick's expression. He was sitting in a corner of the play room, his head on his knees. A baby bottle was in his hand. "You don't suppose he's had any, do you?" Julie asked, trying to recall if he'd fed the night before this mess began. She didn't think so. "No. It's been hours now, and he's getting hungry and hopeless. Mainly hopeless," Sandra surmised gently. "You know how he is. But he wouldn't have had any. He's made of stronger stuff than that." "He's used to depriving himself," Nancy offered. "Janette said so in AMPH." Katrinka started to play with the knobs on the panel. Karen tried to stop her. "You don't know what that will do! You could kill him!" "It's worth a try!" Katrinka pushed her hands into her pockets, and found the little plastic cow that Cherri had stuck to Cath, and which Katrinka had slid into her pocket before Cath was taken to the loft for de-syruping. She played with it, pushing it at the indentions on the panel, and suddenly the door to the nursery sprang open. As one, the Knighties ran down the hallway, into the nursery, and toward Nick, then stopped short. His struggle was evident in his face: hunger for the blood fighting humiliation at the circumstances. When he saw his would-be rescuers, his humiliation deepened. He did not want them -- his Knighties, his followers, these people who believed in him for reasons beyond his comprehension -- to see him like this, struggling to overcome an urge which he should have the strength to conquer easily. Much less in a nursery. From a baby bottle. Because if it wasn't the bottle, it might be one of them. It was almost too much to bear. He closed his eyes and grabbed again for the bottle of human blood. "You don't _have_ to drink it, Nick." Katrinka said. "We're here. We'll get you home." "But I do. Look, just go. Let me do this alone, okay?" He turned away from the eyes he could not meet. Karen pushed to the front of the group, and past them. She put her hand on Nick's shoulder. "Nick?" He shrugged her hand roughly away. "I told you all to leave me alone." He retreated farther from them. She followed him, undaunted. "But I have something for you, Nick." That aroused some curiosity in him, and he looked up. She put her hand out to him again. "But I can't give it to you if you won't let me near you..." "Whatever it is, I don't want it," he decided, and again pushed her hand away, more roughly this time. "It's exactly what you want, and if you'd stop acting like that bottle was exactly what you _deserve_, I could give it to you. Angrily, he finally met her eyes. She never dropped her gaze from the flickering gold of his, as she reached into her book bag and drew out the green bottle of cow's blood she had carried with her. She raised the bottle to her own mouth, and -- daintily, if such an act could be dainty -- pulled the cork with her teeth before handing the bottle to him. He drank, hungrily, greedily, feeling the blood assuage the hunger which had been so voracious only a moment before. When he finally paused, he met her eyes again. "You're supposed to spit that out, you know." She handed him the cork. "That would be _completely_ unladylike." They started toward the discreetly-turned backs of the other Knighties. He stopped her with a hand on her arm. "Did I hurt you, before?" he asked, concern in his eyes. "Not really. It doesn't matter." He brushed the hair out of her eyes. "But it does. And I'm sorry." "It's okay. I accept your apology." He hugged her quickly and they began walking again. "Let's just get you home, okay?" she said, as they reached the rest of the Knighties. "You see why we worry about you, Nick?" Marcia exclaimed, though smiling, as she sidled up to Nick's other side. "Good thing Karen had the foresight to bring blood." Relaxing more and more, Nick managed a small smile, giving Marcia a brief hug as well, and nodding to acknowledge Sandra's concerned expression; he would have reached out to her, but both of his arms were occupied at the moment. His sense of the absurd finally made a break-throuugh in its nogotiations with his sense of self-worth, and he grinned genuinely. "You said it. It's so good to see all of you." Amidst happy Knightie murmurs of agreement, Katrinka added, "Librarians are always good for something! Yay for our Librarian Karen!" Nick grinned down at Karen, and absently glanced over the rest of his infinitely supportive and forgiving followers, counting librarians. "Almost everyone came. I'm flattered. But neither Perri *or* Cath? Isn't that a little strange?" The next couple of minutes were spent bringing Nick up to date on the Maple Co-Leader. He smiled again, thinking what that must have looked like. "I don't imagine Cath will be ordering pancakes with maple syrup any time soon, will she?" Knightie chuckles ensued. "But it's my fault Cherri caught her. I should never have ...." Nick's voice trailed off, and he looked a bit sheepish. "Did anyone think to bring my cel phone? I left it on the dresser." "Here, Nick." Karen pulled her own cellular phone out of a pocket of her bag. "Aren't you well prepared today?" he noted admiringly, as he opened the phone and dialed the loft. "It's me, Siona; how's Cath? ... Sure, put her on ... I'm fine, Cath. ... No, I did not drink it. How are _you_? ... Uh-huh ... Actually, I have more experience cleaning out blood than syrup. Did you find the bleach? ... Right. ... Look, I know who used to do Janette's hair, and I'm sure .... Uh-huh ... I'll see you in a bit." "So?" Dotti prompted, as he pocketed the phone. "How is she?" "Safe and sanitary, many showers since," Nick answered. "She called the N&Ners for advice on removing sugary substances, as they'd dealt so well with that cotton candy incident. She said Idalia was a big help -- I didn't realize toothpaste could be used that way, actually, though I did know about tomato juice -- but that she's banning all maple-related products from the loft for the duration of the war. I think Perri will talk her out of it." "Not that we're much for breakfast during a War, anyway," Julie observed cheerfully. "Now, isn't it time we were getting you home?" "How are we going to do that?" He looked around as the crowd of Knighties pushed toward the door. "It's got to be getting close to noon." "Yup, but we've got the Caddy!" Allison brandished keys. "Yeah Nick, ready for a ride in the trunk?" Karen grinned. Sighing, he nodded gamely. "Trunk it is." "I'm driving!" called Katrinka. "No, I'm driving!" called Robbi. "Remember what happened the last time we drove?" Nancy reminded her. Nick grinned and took the keys from Allison and handed them to Marcia. "If she can handle a van with eight screaming Knighties in it, she can handle the Caddy. Oh, and no side trips, please!" "Will do, Nick!" Marcia accepted the Caddy keys and headed out to back Nick's famous car up to the warehouse entrance. ********************************************************************* "'And every tale condemns me for a villain.'"--Stealing Vamps, Part Three of Four By Elizabeth Ann Lewis Tuesday, August 5th, about 7 am University of Toronto Tigon sat with Kristina and Lizbet behind the soundboard for the recording booth, watching LaCroix. "He's the first one who hasn't tried to tear the booth down," Kristina commented. "That's because Tigon talked him into coming here," Lizbet explained. "Talked him? You mean, she said, 'Come on over,' and he did? LaCroix? UNCLE?" Kristina asked in complete disbelief. "You don't know Tigon. Things like this just... happen... around her," Lizbet said. Tigon sat back with a smug smile. Kristina shrugged and flipped the switch. "Good morning, LaCroix. Thank you for coming." "Oh, it was my pleasure," he said with icy sarcasm. Lizbet gulped. She and the Roman vampire were not on good terms, and hearing him displeased scared her. Of course, hearing him *pleased* scared her even more. "Full name?" "Lucian LaCroix." "Um, no, I mean original full name. Like, 2000 years ago." LaCroix glared and Tigon started snickering her evil laugh. Lizbet blinked and said, "Place of birth?" "Italia." "Year?" "The seventeenth year of the reign of the Emperor Tiberius," LaCroix answered. Kristina saw Lizbet look up briefly, calculate, and write down, "AD 31." They worked their way through the list of words. LaCroix flatly refused to translate, "My mother is a cabbage," so Lizbet and Tigon came up with sentences for him to translate into Latin and any other languages he could think of. Lizbet leaned over to Tigon and whispered, "See? I told you no Roman would say weeni, weedi, weeci." "That's the German pronunciation," Tigon whispered back. With surprising ease, they reached the end of the session. "One more," Lizbet promised Kristina. "I'll get him here as soon as I can." Tigon waved, heading out the door. "Bye, Lizbet." "Wait!" Lizbet shouted. "But... but... you have to help me get him back!" "Nope, I don't. All you asked was for help to get him here. Nothing about return deposits. Laterbye." Lizbet watched the door slam shut behind Tigon, and looked at Kristina with headphones on listening to the latest batch of tapes. Then she turned to LaCroix, stark, absolute terror plain on her face. "If I haven't killed you yet, I am hardly likely to do so now, am I? Particularly when you are my best hope of getting back to my penthouse before sundown," LaCroix asked her, impatient. Lizbet relaxed slightly. "That's true. Just... please don't kill me when we get there, OK?" LaCroix sighed. "'And every tale condemns me for a villain,'" he quoted. "Shakespeare, Richard III, Act V, Scene three," Lizbet said automatically. LaCroix's brows rose. "Yes, that's right." "The play is entertaining, but of course it is completely inaccurate." Lizbet paused as a thought occurred to her. Her fear of LaCroix paled in comparison for her historian's lust for knowledge. "I don't suppose you were in London in 1483 and know what happened to two little boys in the Tower, do you...?" ********************************************************************* In Search Of The Perky One Torrey and Partly Vaq & Perk Time:9:00 am Date:8-6 Place: Perk's hotel and the Church *****, **/**, **:** Torrey had been watching Vachon for sometime now. She could see the worry he carried with him. Finding out that Nick and Screed were alive helped a little. She knew he still wondered about Tracy. Seeing Shannon, Torrey went over to her. " Shannon, I need a favor." "Sure whatever you need." Shannon answered "OK, I need you to get some of the group together and get Vachon to play poker with you all." "Poker?" Shannon asked looking over her leader trying to see if she had hit her head or something. "Ya, I know it sounds strange but it will keep him busy. I need to go see the Perk's and I don't want him to know I'm gone." Torrey watched Shannon give her a strange look. "Augh...listen....I am going to go see if I can find out about Tracy...I don't want him to know, because it may be bad news. Look I feel bad enough already... the poor guys not even out of the grave for a week and look at all the stuff he's had to put up with." "OK, no problem...Poker...I can do poker." Shannon mumbled as she walked away. ********************* Outside the Perk's hotel ********************** //Well I'm glad the Knighties knew where this place was.// Torrey thought to herself. Lifting her had she knocked on the door.... hoping... no... praying that who ever opened it would not perky her to death. "Hi, glad you called...come in..have a seat." Partly welcomed the hesitant Vaquero in. "Hi Partly, glad to see you guys made it back again." Torrey sighed as she lowered herself into the nice comfy chair.// We gota get some nice chairs at the Church// " Partly let me get right to the point here...I don't have a lot of time. Vachon is worried about Tracy and to tell you the truth I just don't know what to tell him." Partly gave her an unreadable look. "What do you think you should tell him?" "Huh?" Torrey had expected perky, not incomprehensable. Partly backed up. "Don't you think she's dead?" Tracy's rule of not telling anyone she's alive was getting difficult to follow. Torrey frowned. "Then she is dead?" She had heard rumors Tracy was still, somehow, alive. "We had told Vachon that she was dead, but then... You hear things in a war. He was starting to hope that she was alive." Great, Partly thought. While I wait for Tracy to finish playing 'eenie, meenie, minie, moe' on whether or not she should tell people she's alive, I've got to *deal* with this. Torrey went on. "Well, it's better if we can just tell him she's dead. No use keeping false hopes." "Listen, Torrey," Partly began, then stopped. She almost said, 'if you promise not to tell anyone.' But she couldn't do that. She couldn't force Torrey into a position where she would have to lie to her leader -- even if it was a lie of ommission. Torrey waited. "Tell Vachon not to give up hope." This was getting more and more difficult. Maybe a partial truth would work. "Tell him I *believe* Tracy is alive. I don't know how, I don't know why, and I don't know where she is right now, but I *believe* she's alive." There, that kept her loyal to Tracy without having to lie. "Tell him I'm going to do everything I can to bring her back here, but that I don't know if that's possible." She continued before Torrey could interrupt. "But tell only *him*." "Do you really think she's alive?" Torrey asked. "What *I* believe and what *I* want doesn't matter. Even if she were alive, doesn't necessarly mean that Tracy is going to come back." Partly stopped, thinking that she had said too much. Torrey nodded. "I *believe* I understand." She smiled..... ******** Back at the Church ******** Torrey and Vachon sat off to one corner. "So, she is alive." Vachon asked looking hopeful. "I think she is...listen...I know this is not a lot of help...but...just don't give up OK." Torrey answered as she got up to leave. Vachon watched as she walked into the other room. Getting up he headed for the basement hoping for a place to be alone...he defiantly needed some time to think. ********************************************************************* Hearts and Flowers The Valentines Get Goopy 1/5 by Maureen Wynn and the Valentines When: Tuesday morning, August 6 Where: Wherever Valentines are hiding Waking up was hard. It *always* was, but this morning it seemed particularly difficult. It had been a long, hard War, and too much had happened to allow sleep to come easily. She had tossed and turned all night long, and the morning had come far too soon. Finally, she decided the she wasn't going to get back to sleep. She groaned, crawled out of her sleeping bag, and stumbled bleary-eyed into the bathroom. Sorting through all the toiletry bags to find hers, she opened it up and started to remove her toothbrush when she noticed the card stuck in among the make-up. Pulling it out, she turned it over...and stopped, startled, when she saw it was a Valentine. Little red hearts. White lace. Cupids, even. The words 'Be Mine' scrolled in over-ornate letters across the middle. Under those words was a hand- written message: "We will not be forgotten." She smiled with relief. she thought, She placed the card carefully in another toiletry bag, hoping that her fellow affiliation-mate would find it soon, and went back to brushing her teeth. ********************************************************************* The Sweet Smell of Revenge Chanda Keith and Felicia Bollin, Ravenettes and Immortal Beloveds Nick and Natpack Headquarters Tuesday, August 6th Morning Looks like the finally got the mess from the last attack cleaned up. Chanda thought as crept towards the headquarters of the Nick & Natpack. Isn't it a *shame* that I'm going to mess it up again. At least I finally found some clothes of the Natpackers that fit. I'd hate to ruin my good clothes. She thought as she picked up her neighbor's white kitty and gave her a push towards the door triggering all of the alarms and bringing the Nick & Natpack running to see what was wrong. While they were milling about in the yard trying to figure out what was going on Chanda hurried in the unguarded front door with the rest of the cats and Fifi the Skunk snuggled in a backpack along with a gas mask and a few other nasty suprises for the Nick & Natpack. She quickly sheperded the animals into a closet to wait for the Nick & Natpackers to return. A few minutes later she heard them come in with the cat cooing "Pretty kitty! Oh, what a pretty little kitty! Now where did you come from?" "Oh, this is too, too easy!" Chanda muttered to herself as she put on her gas mask and hurried out of the closet with Fifi. She locked all of the doors and then crept towards the living room where the Nick & Natpackers were gathered. "Sorry I have to do this, Sweetie. I promise I'll make it up to you though." She whispered as she gathered the skunk up and tossed her into the nearest Nick & Natpacker's lap. A few minutes later she peered into the room to find the four Nick & Natpackers laying crumpled in heaps about the room and Fifi and the kitty lounging on the couch. Aparently the rest were out somewhere. She would have to work fast before they got home. "Good skunk!! Very good skunk!!" Chanda said as she petted her and went to find some rope to tie her captives up. She came back into the living room to find that the other cats had escaped from the closet. Nicky, who actually seemed to like the skunk smell that was filling the house, was busily scattering disks all over the floor and scatching off the lables. Janey had somehow managed to knock over a bookshelf and was pulling the pages out of the silly romantic drival with a satisfied smile on her face. Her neighbor's two kitties were running wild through the house knocking things over and generally turning the house into a disaster area. "Good kitties!" Chanda said as she tied up the Nick & Natpackers and then went to arrange her other little suprises. The first stop was the Nick & Natpackers' computer. I'll delete all of their files and replace it with my little preview. I'm sure that they'll just love that." she snickered as she inserted the disk and pulled up her file. "Dear Nick & Natpackers, Have you ever heard what you do to others will come back to you a hundred fold? Well, in the spirit of that here is a preview of some of my fiction in response to your anti-Janette pieces. "Yes! Yes, I did!" Nick cried. "Does that make you happy to know? Janette and I made mad passionate love in the backseat of Natalie Lambert's car for two hours and it was fantastic! I loved every minute of it! Are you happy?!" "Do you want to know what I think, Doctor Lambert?" Divia purred as she circled her. "You're a fool who's never had enough courage to make a life for herself! You claim to want to be with Nick. Tell me, what would you do if you got him? Have you ever had a man before? Somehow, I don't think so. That would be too emotional for you, wouldn't it? Cool, calm Doctor Lambert with all of her faith in science. Exactly where has your science got you? You have nothing!" "Janette, marry me again." Nick said as he took her hand and sank to one knee. " I love you and our child! Please marry me so that we can be a family, a family for all eternity." "That ought to do it." Chanda said as she made a search of the rest of the house for other computer disks and hard copies of Nick & Natpack fiction for a nice bonfire later. She found Fifi going through all of the Nick & Natpackers' rooms leaving a rather distinctive odor on each of their beds. Definitely an Immortal Beloved skunk. Chanda finished her search for disks and other Nick & Natpack material and headed downstairs to the phone. "Hi, Felicia." she said. "It's me. Could you get the van and bring it over to Nick & Natpack headquarters. My little visit went perfectly. I have a few guests that I'm sure that you'll have plans for. Bring some of the Natpackers' clothes to wrap them in, too. I don't want to get skunk smell all over the van. Bring some Natpack clothes for me, too. I'm not wearing any of my clothes until I've had a shower." While Chanda was waiting for her ride home she decided to amuse herself with the Nick & Natpackers' VCR. The kitties had already amused themselves with the Nick & Natpackers' video tapes and were now rolling around a massive heap of tape, tangling it into millions of knots and snarls that would take forever to fix. Good thing I was watching when the VCR repairman fixed our machine last year, Chanda thought as she inserted a tape of Nick and Janette scenes and jammed it so that it couldn't be removed without major damage to the VCR or a visit to the VCR repairman. She also inserted a battery into the TV and VCR guarateeing that the tape would keep going and going and going (wasn't automatic rewind great!) if the Nick & Natpack tried to unplug the the machines. To guard against an attempt to turn the tape off, she jammed the on buttons so the machines were perminately (or at least until the Nick & Natpack could get a repairman or figure out what she did so that the could fix it themselves) stuck on on. She had just finished when Felicia pulled up in the Immortal Beloved van. "Did you know that you can smell this place two blocks away?" Felicia said as she came in in a gas mask. "How long will this smell last anyway?" "I don't really know. Long enough to annoy them anyway." "Here are the Natpacker's clothes. Where are the Nick & Natpackers?" "In the living room, skunk gassed, bound and gagged." I got four of them." "Four?" Felicia said with a happy smile. Suddenly the skunk smell didn't seem that bad. "Now whatever shall we do with them?" "Well, I have some ideas." Chanda said as the wrapped the Nick & Natpackers and started to cart them out to the van. ********************************************************************* Cleaning Up (yet again!) by Kevin Matsumoto with input from Laura and Mel and thanks to Tina, John, Debbi, Friday and Laura. Time: Shortly after Sweet Smell of Revenge Nick&NatPackers Friday walked into the N&Npackers HQ and almost as quickly backed out. "What happened in here!?" "What's going on?" Kevin asked as he looked into the house. "Wow!, What is that!?" "Skunk," Debbi replied. "Never smelled it before?" "No," Kevin wiped the tears from his eyes. "And I'm hoping I never will again. That stuff's as bad as Mace." "OK, everyone take a deep breath and open as many windows as you can." Friday said as she raced into the house. Once the house had been aired out. The smell became tolerable, although the place still reeked. "Here," Laura handed over a bottle. "It s an organic odor remover. A couple of drops in each room, should clear up the odor." Laura thought about it for a moment. "Better make it four or five drops." she decided. "Damn!" Debbi said as she looked at the TV. "Now we know who did this." She pointed to the scenes of Nick and Janette kissing on the screen. "Ugh!" Friday tried to turn of the set and the VCR but both had been jammed on. "Great. How do we shut this off?" Sighing Kevin headed for his rental car and pulled out the duffel bag. He withdrew one of those boxes used to carry fishing tackle. Opening it he pulled out a pair of needle nose pliers, a set of screwdrivers and a pair of wire cutters. "Do have one of everything in that bag or something?" John asked as he became to disassemble the VCR. "And are you sure you know what you're doing." "Before I worked as a teller, I used to work for a video rental place. I had to fix the Jammed VCRs all the time." He removed the tape from the machine and disconnected the battery from power supply. "Done." He said as he finished fixing the buttons. "As for the duffel bag, I just grabbed everything that I thought would come in handy. Considering what I heard about the last war, I figured my electronics equipment would come in handy." He shrugged as he put the equipment away. "You got anything to handle this?" Friday asked as she pointed to the computer "Someone trashed our files." "Pentium?" Kevin asked. As she nodded, he smiled. "Good," digging into the bag he pulled out a set of data recovery programs. "Those are pretty expensive." Tina noticed as Kevin loaded the first into the computer. "They're not mine. I borrowed them from my boss." "I hope you told him, before you took them." John said. "Otherwise, you're going to be in serious trouble when you get back." "I told _her_ that I was borrowing them, but I don't think I told her how long I was going to be gone." Kevin frowned as he began the long process of restoring the files. "Some of the data's gone for good, Whoever it was wrote over it when they put this trash in." "How long?" Laura asked. "How many megs of data were there?" "About four hundred." Friday answered. Kevin turned to stare at Friday then he walked into the kitchen and came back with a bottle of Advil and 6 pack of Pepsi. "I'll let you know when it's finished." "Where s the backup tapes that Arletta made?" Laura asked as they began restoring the files on the computer. Another quick search of the house revealed nothing but the mess caused by several rampaging cats. At least it looked like claw marks on everything. "Try looking in out of the way areas." Laura called. "The DAT tape is smaller than a cassette. It could be anywhere." A more thorough search began. "Found it!" Debbi yelled. "She had them taped to the bottom of one of the dresser drawers." She handed them over to Laura who started the laborious task of restoring the data to the corrupted machines. "Has anyone seen Kris, Sun, Jenn, or Melissa? They were here when we left and they wouldn't have just left the place unguarded." "No," John said as he began to help straightening out the room. "I ll bet they didn t go willingly." "What're the damages?" Friday asked. "It's going to take hours to fix the tapes" Debbi wailed. "A few of my Romance Novels were totalled." Another of the N&Npackers said. "And most of the rooms are trashed. We're going to be cleaning for hours." "So how do we get the others back." Tina asked. "Why don't we just snatch a few of the IB's and work a trade." Kevin's voice came from general direction of the computer he was working on. The others could hear him muttering. "At least they didn't low level reformat the HD before they loaded their stuff on." The others began working on a plan to retrieve their lost comrades. Finally a workable plan was decided on and they moved out. "C'mon, you re helping." One of them grabbed Kevin's arm and began dragging him to the door. "Wait, hold it, I'm not finished yet." Kevin protested as he barely managed to grab his duffel bag on the way out the door. "What are the dogs for?" Kevin asked as they drove off. "We re going to visit the Raven and track the Skunk." Laura0 explained as she quieted the nervous dogs. Once they arrived at the Raven. Kevin voiced his reservations "Do you really think they can pick up the scent of one skunk in all..." The dogs suddenly yanked on their leash and began running. "So I was wrong. Sue me." Kevin said as they were towed along. ********************************************************************* Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow?? (01/01) By Felicia Bollin, Immortal Beloved; Melanie Hernandez, IB; Nick and Natpack loan courtesy of Soulseek (N&N) and Chanda Keith, also IB Time: Tuesday August 6th, morning, consecutive to "Sweet Smell of Revenge" Setting: "The One and Only Warehouse in Toronto (tm)"; in one of the Myriad Cubbyholes and Cubicles Chanda, Felicia, and now, Melanie, huffed and puffed and dragged the four Nick and Natpackers in, bound and gagged. Unfortunately, while the skunk smell had knocked them _for a loop_, it hadn't, of course, knocked them totally *out*; so they were starting to twist feebly from side to side, and one was putting up quite a fight, actually. "Spunky little things, aren't they?" asked Chanda, looking down somewhat approvingly at her two. Felicia, with her "little helpers'" aid, pulled and tugged all four firmly into one straight line, standing up, then smiled down at them, just a touch of frosty malice in her eyes. She loved this part. "Hi." The NNP-ers looked at each other, eyes expanding above their gags. "I'm Felicia the Immortal Beloved leader. Possibly this may be known as your worst War experience to date." After this extremely cheerful statement, Felicia began to prowl back and forth, talking as she walked. "We decided," she went on, making eye contact with them as she went, "that some of the things we've heard the NNP saying about Nick and Janette, and most specifically Janette, could be attributed to one thing." Felicia cocked her head to one side, consideringly, liking the sound of that so far, all things considered. "What's that, you say? Specifically speaking, we think that some members of the NNP are suffering from a lack of that human emotion, one of those things that helps to make us different from the other mammals; that is, _empathy_." "Yes," Chanda said, taking up the thread of the conversation. "We decided that for you to go around making some of the statements you've made--- well, maybe not *you* specifically, but hey, we've got to work with who we've got, and you might as well pay for the sins of some of them, right?--- we needed to *educate* you." "If you're good, we'll take the gags out and untie you," Melanie said encouragingly. "You can't get away from here anyway. This warehouse has so many rooms, you'd get lost." "Nice surveillance cameras, too," remarked a voice professionally, as its owner walked out of the shadows. Leigh Johnston, Merc by trade, Immortal Beloved by emotional imperative, grinned a rather nasty grin as she shook a camera to check the solidity of its moorings. The NNP- ers, "lucky chosen" few, began to make some extraordinary faces and sounds. They did not, of course, know that the cameras were in place only and specifically so that the Immortal Beloveds not taking part directly in this attack--- Catherine, Cynthia, Jane, Monica, and Lane--- could watch it on closed circuit TV at their headquarterses simultaneously, if they wished, so they started to sweat a little. Leigh, who spoke "gagged and bound" as only one who had been through the advanced Merc Academy class in 'Hostage 404' could, (you wondered what all those myrmidons of Mercs were _doing_ when you _thought_they were just sitting around HQ idle?! HA! Well, guess what!! I don't know either! But that sounds like a good one, yes? --- ed.) leaned in. Correctly interpreting the sounds, she said, "What's that you say? Oh, are we going to _videotape_ you! Oh, don't worry, we have *other* plans for the camera's, ha, ha, ha. I've got a trip to the Raven riding on this as payment. An invitation to a private party at the end of the War, and all the drinks I can handle," Leigh smiled, flipping back her abundant dark hair. Melanie began to make some rather extraordinary faces herself, as she considered this. Wheels turning rapidly, she slinked over to Leigh, leaned down, and started to whisper. "Uh, I could be wrong here, Leigh, but isn't the party at the Raven open to everyone? That doesn't sound like much of a payment. I thought---" "What?" Leigh enunciated loudly, looking in Felicia's direction, each word falling like a cold, separate ice cube. "No trip to the Raven?! I could have gone anyway?" She dropped her head into her hands and sank to the floor. "Oh no! Dianne's gonna *kill* me! *This* isn't for profit anymore!" she wailed, changing from freezing to forlorn. "I, uh, forgot about that lovely little habit you have of observing and taking notes, Melanie," Felicia observed herself, a bit disgruntled and giving her protege a sour look. "I was kind of hoping that no one was paying attention to this thread anymore other than our two factions, since I've been up so long without sleep that whole Boy Scout troops could camp out in the bags under my eyelids so my coherence is a little bit suspect. Leigh," she said, turning to the Merc, "I'll give you one of my new dresses I got when shopping with Janette as payment. Sorry, but it's the best I can do right now." Leigh sighed. "I'll remember this for next War," she threatened. "I'm sure you will." Felicia leaned forward and pressed an ominous- looking little red button near her hand. Simultaneously, four beauty parlor hair-washing sinks, complete with running water, shot out of the wall and unceremoniously hit the Nick and Natpackers square behind the knees. As a result, they fell off balance and quite hard into the chairs. "I guess the console has a little bug, ha ha. Sorry about that." she said, not looking the least bit repentant. "Now let us see, who have we here?" She untied the gags. Each NNP-er glared malevolently at Felicia. "You won't get away with this," threatened one as she heard rather than saw one of the IB's slide into position behind her and pick up a hose from the sink. "Whatever it is. Soul will pay whatever ransom you ask." Felicia chuckled, looking almost fond. "Oh no, don't worry. This doesn't involve _ransom_ . No no no, you'll be quite free to go home--- once we're done with you. Who are you, by the way?" "I'm Melissa," spat the speaker, glaring. "That's Jenn, Kris, and Sun. _Why_ am I telling you this, anyway?" she asked, shaking her own dark head in confusion and puzzlement. Felicia smiled. "Possibly an aftereffect of the vamp-hypnosis practice Miklos let me get in, the last War." (cf War Five, The Cat Shopping Trip---and yes, it was _extremely_ faulty then, too ) Possibly not. Who could say?" She shrugged. "This ought to work out quite well. Four for four." Nodding at the troops, she said, "Ladies, let's get busy." **time elapses** In an hour, the Nick and Natpackers were impeccably dressed and coiffed in the best Janette style the four Immortal Beloveds could manage while dodging the flailing arms, legs, and convenient missiles of their captives. Their hair, in the case of Jenn, Melissa, and Kris, had been handily enhanced by "Jerome Robbins' Punky Colour" (tm) in Deepest Ebony. Of course, it was a vegetable dye, so it would wash out with no discernable traces, Felicia assured them--- within three to six weeks, so said the bottle. Since they were already brunettes, hopefully it wouldn't bother them so much when it came to putting on their favorite-colored clothes for the next month or so, a fact of life which Felicia had unhappily discovered after dying her original taffy- blonde hair the approximate color of a mahogany end-table. Sun, on the other hand, was a different matter--- being, as her name suggested, a blonde already. Being a softhearted wimp when it came to the problems inherent in being blonde, and remembering that her haircoloring friend at college had told her that the semipermanent dye might wash out of her own lightened blonde hair, leaving it _gray_ : that was going a little too far, at least for Felicia. Instead, they had used the kind of glue people use on fake mustaches to anchor a blue-black wig, styled in a French twist, to Sun's forehead ("Don't worry," Felicia said encouragingly, "it may itch, but it _should_ come off, eventually"). They were also garbed in inexpensive Janette-style clothing knockoffs, and Chanda had already sent off the borrowed Natpack clothes, smelling faintly of skunk, to be completely and thoroughly drycleaned and de-fumed before returning to their suitcases (and, eventually, their rightful owners, she knew). In a burst of fellow-feeling, she had included the Nick and Natpackers' original clothing, too, which would of course be delivered back to their headquarters. The lights had long since gone out in the warehouse room, replaced by murky colored gels and blacklights, giving the room an eerie quality. Finding themselves all alone in the room, the Nick and Natpackers stumbled around, giving shrieks of outrage as they came in contact with the mirrored walls and saw themselves, as well as catching glimpses of the travesty--- pictures of Nick and Janette, caught in torrid embraces, scattered all across the walls!!! "Now," said a loud, authoritarian voice like Felicia's; but coming from the nearest loudspeaker, located god-knows-where, as they quaked: "Let the games begin. Now you know what it's like to _look_ like Janette; let's see if you know how it feels to _be_ Janette when she's with Nick. Then, maybe you'll understand the Immortal Beloved point of view a bit better, yes?" A bright flash of light, comparatively, split the room as convenient monitors located in all four corners of the room sprang to life. Sun, Jenn, Melissa, and Kris all tensed, not knowing what was coming, but knowing instinctively that they feared it very much. For the next four hours, they would: 1.) Watch videotaped Nick and Janette scenes, especially "the good ones", play on the VCR's, 2.) listen to Nick and Janette fanfiction playing continuously from the speakers, interspersed with appropriate comments from the mystery figures in the booths, and 3.) Raven music, underlying the whole thing. "They ought to be ready for a padded cell when this is over," Chanda said, highly diverted. "Nothing like a little sensory overload, _I_ always say," agreed Felicia, cutting the mic to the outside. ** hours later** The Nick and Natpackers, in a daze, were deposited on the steps of their headquarters, in Janette garb, still murmuring to themselves. That's their story to tell. Perhaps we'll hear about it the next War. ********************************************************************* Confrontation by Spifff, Diane E, Lana Soward, AJ, Sarah Chodrow (unaffiliated) and 'Dona' Torrey and Sherri, (Vaqueros). Place: Royal Ontario Museum, Brabrant Exhibit Time: August 6th, noon. The Vaqueros nervously entered the museum. Considering their record this War, they considered the potential for an ambush to be quite high. After showing the guard their tickets, they proceeded carefully up the escalators and into the exhibition. Following a suspicious examination of the first room, they entered the hall of portraits. Diane's friends were clustered together on the far side of the chamber, gazing at Jan van Eyck's rendering of the human Q-tip. It reminded Lana of how strongly Nigel Wetmore resembled LaCroix. The court was in session. Spifff turned from the painting to face the Vaqueros. "Basically, boys and girls, as Exhibit 'A', we have a fragment of a stylish coif, - a long dark, brown luxurious tress shamelessly removed from the clothing of Diane E." Spifff gestured expansively waving the hair, then began to decoratively model it. She was shaking and spoke somewhat quickly. "We have on Exhibit 'B', photos of the riverbank, those that lurk in your subconsciousnesses sucking at the truth. Well Vaqueros, the time of judgement is upon you!! " The Vaqeros, including Torrey, Sherri and Jay just stared at the madwoman. Certainly, her taste in art was sound enough but... "Okay, okay. Sorry, let's start again. Like this is really hard." Spifff stuttered. Sarah stepped forward and took over. "What my friend is trying to say is that Diane's in the hospital, several pints low, and all the evidence points toward Vachon. So are you going to tell us what happened, or do we have to go to the police?" "We never had any intention of hurting Diane. She just ended up in the wrong place at the wrong time. It happened so fast. Vachon erupted much more quickly than expected. Suddenly, there was Diane and she was lunch. We tried to get her some help as fast as we could." began Torrey. "It was a total unexpected accident, a real surprise", added Jay Diemert. "We didn't intend for anyone to be hurt - we even had sentries out!" "Well it really sucks!" Spifff commented. Lana pointedly elbowed her less than tactful friend in the ribs until she shut up and Sarah shot a warning glance her way. "Basically you guys should have been more careful. Diane could have died, or worse. The least you can do is cover her medical expenses," Sarah stated emphatically. "Oh god, not another bill," moaned Torrey. She was beginning to develop a headache. Sherri patted her on the shoulder comfortingly, and Jay (the Vaquero's mortal Vachon look alike) scowled fiercely. "Plus, Diane's also going to need some extra help getting around for a few days," added Lana. "There's parties, exhibits and the DH Museum's opening." She indicated herself and her two companions. "We've run ourselves ragged looking after her and making sure she was kept safe from bloodthirsty vampires. So the least you could do is spare a couple of Vaqs to help out." "Manpower, we do have in abundance. We can certainly rustle up someone to give Diane a hand moving about," said Ann S. "I'm sure Carla would be glad to." "Aspirin, Torrey?" offered Spifff helpfully as they all headed towards the exit. ********************************************************************* The Great Escape (1/1) by Sharon Bhandari (NatPack) with assistance from Meredith Pickering and Kelly Gritten Time: Tuesday August 6, around 1pm Place: NatPack HQ, aka The Natcave "Did you eat this time?" Sharon B. walked into the room only to be faced with Natalie's untouched plate and an empty bed. After a split second of panic, she turned to find Natalie kneeling by the rather large air vent with her fingers stuck in the grating. "Just help me up," Nat said as she reclaimed her fingers and made an attempt to rise. "What were you doing?" Sharon asked as she unsuccessfully tried to lead Nat back to the bed. As if she didn't know. Nat had been restless ever since she had been able to leave her sickbed and walk around. Each day she was getting stronger, but she was still weak and somewhat confused and certainly not ready to leave. At least, not ready in Natpack opinion. Natalie, on the other hand, had other ideas. "I need to get out of here," Nat said, "I've been in this place for so long that I don't even remember what day it is. " She pulled out of Sharon's hands and moved away from the bed. Anywhere but that damned bed, she thought, and dropped herself down on the small couch in the corner of the room. What she'd really like to do is pace, but she didn't want to expend energy that could be used later on. "Hey everyone, I brought some new magazines." Meredith limped into the room waving several of them in one hand while surreptitously rubbing her hip with the other. Both occupants turned and paused for a moment to smile broadly at her. They didn't even bother to ask this time. She'd probably fallen. Again. "What's going on?" she said, trying to draw their attention away from her affliction. "And why didn't you eat?" "I was just about to tell Nat that this is just not the time to be leaving." Sharon was overjoyed that Meredith had returned from her trip to the store. She would need help if she wanted to keep Nat from leaving. This was her first important duty as a newbie Natpacker and she didn't want to make a mess of the situation. "Leaving? But we're in the middle of a war!" Meredith said as she sat down on the bed next to Sharon. Nat sighed in exasperation before continuing her argument. "What does that have to do with it? War has never stopped me before and it's not going to stop me now." "Just wait for a few days until the war is over and then we'll figure something out," Meredith stalled and looked to Sharon for support. "They've gotten downright cruel this time." Meredith nodded soberly, and Natalie began to look worried. "Cruel?" "They stole our clothes and glasses," wailed Sharon, still disturbed by the memory of walking around in a sightless stupor. "And our socks," Meredith added. "Our dirty socks." "Oh, this is rediculous," Natalie said, hopping off the couch. "I want to leave. I want food." "You haven't even touched your lunch," Sharon said, pointing at the now cold food on the plate by the bed. "*That* is not food," Nat said, backing away from the lunch tray. "And I refuse to eat anything else from that kitchen. It looks like a disaster area." Sharon and Meredith looked at each other and grudgingly admitted that she was right. The stove had been rendered useless since Maureen had taken the knobs off in the midst of a cleaning frenzy and had forgotten to replace them. But even Maureen hadn't been able to revive the poor blender. It was caked with who knows what from the strange concoctions Kelly had tried to make for Natalie. As if she had understood the direction of their thoughts, Natalie murmured, "And I want a real milkshake. And french fries to go with it." "You can't eat that food," Meredith countered, "It's not..." She trailed off as Nat turned to stare at her,"Will you stop arguing with me?" "Stop. Argue." Meredith repeated, swaying on the bed. Although Natalie appeared unaware of Meredith's behavior, Sharon jumped into the conversation as she noted the glazed look in Meredith's eyes. "Look, we're just trying to help. We don't want anything to happen to you." "I know you're concerned, but sometimes I wish that you would do what *I* say." With that, Nat turned and headed towards the door. "I should obey?" Sharon asked slowly, also beginning to sway as Meredith regained her composure. "That would be nice," Nat said sarcastically, never expecting that her words would have an effect. As Natalie left the bedroom and walked through the abused kitchen, Sharon and Meredith slowly became aware that their charge was slipping through their fingers. "You can't leave," Sharon pleaded as they moved to intercept Natalie before she got to the stairs. Natalie gently pushed them aside and said, "You can't stop me." "Ok." "What?" Meredith stopped to gape at Sharon for a few moments. Even Nat looked somewhat shocked, but quickly recovered to take advantage of the situation and mount the stairs leading up to the front door. "How could you say that?" she said to Sharon, trying to pull her up the stairs behind Natalie. Her efforts were mostly unsuccessful as she kept tripping over each step and falling to her knees. "I must obey," Sharon said, as she bent to help Meredith over the steps. She had a funny feeling that she shouldn't be letting this happen. Shaking her head, she pushed the thought out of her mind and caught Meredith before she fell over again. Nat turned and interrupted their whispered argument, "Did you have anything else to say?" They stopped and shook their heads, unable to do anything else. "Good," she said, and stepped outside with the two stunned Natpackers trailing behind. They never even noticed the shadowy figure watching them head away from their erstwhile sanctuary. -------------- to be continued in "Tour De Force" -------------- ********************************************************************* "Heellooo, Nick"--Stealing Vamps, Part Four of Four By Elizabeth Ann Lewis Tuesday, August 5th, about mid-afternoon Nick's Loft, later, University of Toronto For the second time in one War, Lizbet found herself breaking into the loft. This time, however, her goal was not socks. It was the vampire himself, the angsty cop/archeologist/painter, Nick Knight himself. "Calm down," she muttered to her hormones. She was still recovering from the visit of the Methos look alike to the Highlander party a few days ago. The fact that *Vachon* had appeared at the party as well hadn't helped her any. There had been bets placed to see whether Cherri or Lizbet would attack Vachon first. But more than Methos, even more than Vachon, Lizbet drooled over Nick Knight. She slipped through the skylight and landed with a soft thump on the carpet of the upper level. Right outside Nick's door. Where, presumably, he was sleeping the day away while the Knighties were out looking for little brown books. Nick was out of his bedroom in a second. "What are you doing here?" Lizbet couldn't answer for a moment, too caught up in the image of Nick wearing pajamas. Then she collected herself and went on with her plan. "Nick, you have to help Nat! She's being held in a lab in the University!" "She is? You've found her?" Nick started to fly out of the skylight. Lizbet caught his ankle. "Nick, it's daylight out! You can't go that way. I have a van that's day-proofed. I'll back it into the garage, and you can get in that way." "Right," Nick said, and headed for the door down to the garage. "Um, Nick?" Lizbet really, *really* enjoyed looking at Nick in his black silk PJs, but there was a limit. "You might want to get dressed first. I'll help," she offered. ******** At the U of Toronto "Well, it was nice having a non-pounder at least once," Kristina sighed. Nick was locked in the recording booth, and wasn't terribly happy about it. "I told him Nat was here. He wasn't thrilled to find out I was lying." "Why did you lie? Why didn't you just do what Tigon did with LaCroix and ask for help? Why did you have to trick him?" The Merc looked at her with a confused expression. "Huh? Not trick?" Kristina sighed. "The question is withdrawn." She flipped the switch on the recording control board. Lizbet's eyebrows rose as Nick's voice flooded the room. This time, she didn't bother asking Kristina to translate. She understood enough French to know what Nick was saying. Tigon walked in and said, "Hwyl. Cool, you got Nick." "What are you doing here?" Lizbet asked, baffled. "I wanted to ask Nick about Welsh participles," Tigon explained. "So, you didn't have anything else to do? So you could have helped me put LaCroix back and you didn't?" "Yup," Tigon said. "Never mind," Lizbet said. "I finally found out whose bones were dug out of the Tower of London. You know, LaCroix is a pretty cool guy..." The three women turned their attention to Nick when he switched from French invective to English imperative. "What am I doing here? Let me out! Where's Nat?" Lizbet took the mic. "Nick, we don't know where Nat is. We brought you here for a little research project. Answer the questions and we'll let you go." Nick folded his arms. "And if I don't answer the questions?" Lizbet thought about it. "Well, we'll still let you go... but we'll argue about it." Nick sighed. "Anything to get out of here!" "OK, full name." "Nicholas de Brabant." "Were you the child of the Duke of Brabant?" Lizbet asked curiously. Nick nodded. "But I was the son of his second marriage, so I wasn't in line to inherit any property." "Lizbet, can we get *on* with this?" Kristina demanded. "All right, all right. Date of birth." Nick got a glazed look in his eye. "I was brought across in 1228..." "Yes, yes, we know all that. When were you born? Baby-like?" "Oh. Um, 1196." They worked their way through the lists of words (which took an exceptionally long time, not only because Nick spoke more languages than most, but because everytime they hit something in Welsh, Tigon would ruthlessly question him about it.) Lizbet managed to get to the list of phrases for him to translate when Kristina shoved a note over to her. ~Replace "cabbage" with "brick"~ it said. Lizbet snickered. "OK, Nick, now we are moving on to sentance structure. Please translate this into as many languages as possibly. 'Your mother is a brick.'" Nick narrowed his eyes. "Brick?" Lizbet innocently waved her paper around. "That's what it says here. Nick, this is a scientifically constructed test. Please answer the question." Over the next hour they learned several dozen ways to say 'brick' and use it in a sentence. Finally, Kristina gathered up all her notes. "OK, I'm done. Lizbet, you'll get Nick home, right?" "Right," Lizbet said. "Thank you for your help," Kristina told her. "The bottles of single malt whiskey will be at Merc Central by tonight." Lizbet grinned. "Thanks!" She saw both Tigon and Kristina out the door before shutting it behind her and turning back to look at the vampire still locked in the recording booth. "Heeellooo, Nick," Rosemund (Lizbet's hormone-driven alter ego) purred. -------------------------- Don't worry, Nick gets back on time... ;) ********************************************************************* THE BEST OF EVERYTHING (01/01) (follows "St. Joan's Cross") By Bonnie Pardoe (Vaquero), with thanks to Kira Chistiakoff (Merc) Tuesday, August 6th, 4pm the Merc's RDM Chocolate Shoppe ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ "Kira!" "Bonnie!" The two friends from California hugged. They had each been in Toronto for over a week and had not managed to run into each other. They talked for just a bit about old times and mutual friends. "So, you called me. And, here I am." Bonnie finally brought up the subject. "Did you get it?" Kira nodded, slipped away into the back room for a moment, then reappeared with what looked like St. Joan's Cross. Bonnie reached out reverently to it. "Is it... the real one? The one belonging to Nick?" Kira nodded. "You won't believe what I went through to get this for you!" "You didn't steal it?!" Bonnie had *told* her the acquisition needed to be completely above-board. "Of course not. I asked Nick for it and he gave it to me." Kira was almost offended that Bonnie would think her so underhanded, but then she remembered that she had a carefully-honed reputation for deviousness, and was actually pleased. Bonnie narrowed her eyes at the Merc. "Just like that?" "Yup, just like that." Kira wasn't at liberty to divulge the exact nature of the transaction with Nick. \\You're just going to have to trust me, Bonns\\ "So, here you go." Kira handed Bonnie the wooden cross. "We're even now, right? My debts all paid?" Bonnie shook her head. "I need it gift-wrapped and then packaged for OverKnight delivery. And throw in a dozen of those heavenly white roses while you're at it." Kira was even more confused. \\She wants the thing so badly and then she wants me to pack it up and mail it?\\ "What's going on, Bonns? Why did you want me to get you the cross?" Bonnie simply smiled at Kira and began filling out the card she wanted enclosed in the package. ~~~~~ My amiable friend, I am sorry that you could not make it to Toronto yet again. I missed you and wanted to get you a souvenir. Yes, this is the Cross of St. Joan, from Nick's hands (through Kira's and mine) to yours. I hope that it will give you comfort when you are so far away at college. Good luck with school. I wish you the best of everything and I hope you have a wonderful life. -- Bonniest P.S. Though Nick gave us the cross voluntarily, I won't be offended if you feel the need to return it to him the next time you see him. ~~~~~ Bonnie tucked the card into the envelope and then handed it to Kira. "And to whom shall I address the packages?" Kira used her most professional Merc-Clerk (tm) voice, despite being insanely curious at this point. Bonnie slowly smiled before replying, "Amy Rambow." end ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Special thanks to Amy Rambow for allowing me to use her name without asking me why. And thanks to Cynthia Hoffman for suggesting what to get Amy from our virtual trip to Toronto. ********************************************************************* Tour De Force (1/3) by Meredith E. Pickering (with assistance from Sharon Bhandari & Kelly Gritten) Time: Tuesday, August 6, 4:32 p.m. Place: Outside the City of Toronto Coroner's Building *Note: takes place after "The Great Escape" * It had been a long day. A really long day. Meredith feet hurt almost as much as her ankle. Tripping up the curb, she managed to regain her balance, along with what little of her pride remained, just as Natalie drew to a halt outside a hulking concrete structure. In the few hours since Natalie had left her hiding place, she'd taken her companions across Toronto and back again. To a restaurant. To her hairdresser's. To another restaurant. To the top of the CN Tower. To the shores of Lake Ontario. And now... "Why are we stopping here?" asked Sharon, catching her breath. Meredith pointed to the sign, in block letters, at the front of the building. "The Coroner's, Natalie? You're not thinking of going back to work?" Natalie turned to look at her two escorts. "Of course not." she answered stiffly, then, "I just want to check on everything. You know, see how they're getting along without me." "But how are we getting inside? Everyone thinks you're on some kind of extended vacation. Even Captain Reese." Meredith wasn't really looking forward to seeing the inside of a morgue. One thing she did *not* have in common with Natalie was a strong stomach: the sight of blood made her sick. Nat held up a ring of keys and jingled them, smiling faintly. "It's shift change. The night shift doesn't get here till at least seven. I should know: I'm usually on the night shift, remember? Come on." she ordered, walking briskly around the side of the building. Sharon and Meredith both shook their heads, but followed grudgingly after her as she unlocked the back door and swept a coded card through the device on the alarm panel. "Isn't there anyone guarding the entrance?" Meredith asked, surprised that police property would go unprotected. Nat raised her eyebrows and shot her one of those patented, Natalie Lambert, I-don't-believe-I-have-to-explain-this looks. "Do you really think there's anyone trying to get in? Or out, for that matter?" As she spoke, she looked directly at Meredith. "I really wish you would stop asking me questions." Meredith blinked once and a blank expression crossed her face, then replied "No more questions." Natalie paused to turn on a light. "Get the door, will you?" she told Sharon. Obediently, Sharon swung the door open and held it as Meredith and Nat entered the morgue. Strangely, Sharon had been doing everything Natalie asked without complaint, all afternoon. "Take a seat," Natalie told the twosome over her shoulder, "I just want to look over some of the recent cases." Sharon sat immediately, as if dropped by a weight. Meredith wandered around instead, looking at the assorted vials and test-tubes which cluttered the counters. "She's just trying to find out what Nick's been up to." Sharon told Meredith quietly. "I heard that! I am not!" Natalie retorted, turning, hands on her hips, to look at Meredith and Sharon, "Don't even mention Nick." "Don't even mention, umm... who?" Sharon and Meredith responded in unison, looking slightly dazed. Meredith shook her head to clear it and rolled one of the lab chairs over to sit on. Unfortunately, she had to step up in order to sit. Her foot missed the step and she landed with her arm outstretched across the nearest counter. A variety of labelled test-tubes, all filled with blood samples, shattered on impact, spilling their contents onto the counter, the floor, and the front of Meredith's new jeans and white sweater. Cursing, Meredith tried to wipe the blood up with a paper towel, but cut her finger on the glass and smeared the spreading stains on the front of her sweater instead. Sharon, still immobilized by Natalie's previous "sit" command, could do nothing but look on in horror. "Alright," Natalie began, arriving at the scene of the disaster, "I can't take you anywhere that you won't wreak havoc! Don't touch anything else in here." Nat retrieved a pair of surgical gloves and a sponge. "Don't touch anything here." Meredith repeated, her eyes glazing over. She stood still while Natalie washed the counter and floor. There wasn't much to be done about Meredith's clothing. "Go get some clean scrubs." Nat told Sharon, "They're in the metal storage closet in the back." She motioned toward the other side of the room. "Scrubs. My own Toronto Coroner's Office scrubs!" Meredith exclaimed, suddenly thrilled by the thought, even if it meant she'd had to wreck her new outfit in the process. Almost half an hour later, Natalie pushed her hair out of her face and fanned herself with her hand. She was overdoing, just a little, she thought, for someone who had spent so long in recovery. Well, she knew just the cure": new clothes, a gourmet meal in a pricey restaurant, and something *really* chocolate for dessert. It was nice to be out and about again, even if she couldn't keep up this pace forever. 'Forever,' Nat thought, the memory bringing remembered tears. 'So much for forever.' Then she inhaled deeply and said to her companions, "Come along, we're going shopping." Meredith paused to look at herself in the mirror one more time before Nat flicked off the lights. The green of the scrubs really suited her pale British coloring. Then Sharon grabbed her by the elbow and they headed off, again, across Toronto. ********************************************************************* Tour De Force (2/3) by Meredith E. Pickering (with help from Kelly Gritten & Sharon Bhandari) Time: Tuesday, August 6, 5:50 p.m. Place: Eaton Centre ******************* Kelly stood at a phone booth in Eaton Centre and waited impatiently for her call to be answered. Every once in while she shot a glance back at the store where Natalie was trying on exquisite dresses, just to make sure that her prey was still in sight. Luckily she had been on her way to visit Nat when the doctor left the Natcave. "Hellllllooo?" Amy answered. "Amy!" Even drinking heavily, as she had been wont to do in the past few weeks, Amy managed to keep dibs on the phone. "Is Maureen there? I need to talk to her right away." "Mo the formerly blonde?" Amy giggled. She paused for a moment, whether because she was looking for Maureen or trying to figure out how to form words in her inebriated mouth, Kelly was not sure, then continued, "No...I don't think she's here right now. Leave a message at the beep! Beeeeeeeep," she crooned into the phone. Kelly hung up the phone with a sigh, then considered what to do. she thought desperately. . She picked up the receiver, and dialed again. "Merc Headquarters, how may I direct your call?" a professional voice asked. "I'd like to speak to the Merc Mommy General, please," Kelly responded. "Just one moment," the voice answered. "Chris!" Kelly exclaimed. "I need a huge favor...." ******************* Meredith cleared her throat. She was really thirsty, having walked at least ten miles during the afternoon. Or at least, it felt like ten. Although they had often taken the train, each flight of stairs into and out of the stations had presented new difficulties. Now Sharon had ventured off to find some sodas, and Meredith was keeping her eyes fixed on the dressing room where Natalie was trying on dresses. At the same time, she was also trying to look unobtrusive wearing scrubs in a fancy clothing store. "What do you think?" Nat asked, emerging from the changing area wearing a pink sequined gown. Meredith shook her head, "The color isn't quite right. And it's still a little big, Nat. You've lost a lot of weight." "No wonder, with the stuff you've been feeding me." Nat scolded, letting the swinging doors fall closed behind her. Meredith simply couldn't argue. Five minutes later, Nat still hadn't appeared again. Either the zipper was stuck, or... There were three stairs between the place where she was waiting and the dressing rooms. As she took the first step up, she lost her balance and would have careened headlong into a nearby mannequin if it weren't for the hands which closed on her waist and steadied her. "Thank you very much," she told her rescuer politely, turning to find a familiar face staring inquisitively at her. Her face was bright red from the embarrassment, even after taking so many spills in the last few days. 'Red and green,' she thought, 'Great, I must look like a Christmas tree.' "You're very welcome." Jerry Tate replied, trying to smother a laugh, "You haven't been drinking, by any chance?" Then, reading the expression on her face, asked "I don't know you, do I?" "Well, no, um, I mean, well, that is..." Meredith tried to regain her mental, as well as her physical equilibrium. "I watched your show a few times, and once, when I was up here on vacation, I was even in the audience. I mean, you wouldn't remember me, but I was there with a Detective Tracy Vetter..." she trailed off, aware that she was babbling. She'd had a crush on Jerry Tate for as long as she could remember, and here he was with his hands still on her waist. She took an involuntary step backwards. "Ah, Tracy. The detective my assistant almost killed. I thought your face looked familiar, though. Have I seen you somewhere else?" Jerry was dressed to the nines, looking every inch the television personality. His Armani suit and Italian leather shoes were spotless. Meredith realized that she was wearing scrubs. She also realized that Jerry had a rather filmy black negligee draped over one arm. Both of these observations made her face turn red again. "I don't think so." she answered. Jerry followed her gaze to the nightwear he was carrying and began to turn red himself. "This," he answered, plucking the negligee gingerly off his arm, as if it were slimy, "Is the only thing I can think of to get my sister for her birthday." "Yeah, right." Meredith returned. 'Sleaze.' she thought 'Who'd buy that kind of thing for his sister?' "Do you have any better ideas?" he asked, looking decidedly uncomfortable. "She's an exotic dancer," he explained, "She doesn't wear a lot of expensive clothes, even when she's away from work. In fact, she doesn't wear a lot of clothes. Period." Meredith found herself buying his story. She smiled. "Well, you could try getting her something besides clothes. Something for the kitchen. Or doesn't she cook?" Jerry looked relieved and draped the garment over the arm of the nearest mannequin. "Great idea! Now, why didn't I think of that?" 'Either he doesn't cook much himself, or he has the brains of a flea.' Meredith thought, 'Oh well, at least he's gorgeous.' Just then, Sharon returned, carrying three sodas in an unstable arrangement. "Help!" she exclaimed, almost tipping the drinks. Meredith grabbed two of the sodas and turned to look in the direction of the dressing room. To her horror, the lights were off and the attendant was just locking the door. "You didn't happen to see a woman, oh, in her thirties, long brown hair, within the last few minutes?" Meredith asked. The attendant shook her head. "No, she left maybe fifteen minutes ago. Seemed in a real hurry." "You lost Natalie!" Sharon glared at her fellow Natpacker, at a loss for words, "How could you do that." "Sharon," Meredith began, "I'd like you to meet Jerry Tate." ********************************************************************* Hugs and KISS by Christina Kamnikar, Merc Mommy General Tuesday, August 6, just before dinner time Merc Central Jamie was feeding the Merc Cats George and Ramona, because they were complaining loudly that no one, *no one*, not anyone in the entire War had fed them---something she suspected of being a complete lie---when Christina came back in from the hot tub, toweling her hair and laughing at what someone still in the tub had said. "Oh, here you are. I was looking for you earlier," the Merc Mommy General said, looking very, very guilty. The Web Goddess gave George some more tuna and sat back on her heels. "You were? Well, I've been here most of the day. You couldn't have been looking very hard." "Oh, really." Chris seemed even more apprehensive now, and she went over to one of the cupboards and began rummaging around. "Hmmm. Guess I was looking in the wrong places." She fell silent, then turned around with both hands behind her back. "Jamie? Remember how I promised you KISS tickets to make up for your missing the concert last week?" "Ye-es." She studied Chris's expression, and then felt her face fall. "You couldn't do it, could you? You couldn't get me front-row seats at any of the concerts here in Toronto?" "I couldn't get you tickets at all," her Merc Mommy whispered, staring at the floor. "I'm so sorry, Jamie. I tried. I called everywhere. I couldn't believe they were sold out... At first I just wanted to wrangle tickets through some Merc deal, but they all fell through, and then I actually tried to buy them, but..." She sighed and looked up at her Merc Child, whose face was an explanation of the term "disappointment." "I let you down, and I'm truly, honestly, totally sorry. I mean it." She brought a large 20 oz. Hershey's Kiss out from behind her back. "Forgive me?" "You promised!" Jamie wailed, her eyes tearing up before she could stop herself. Then she gulped, wiped at her face and tried to smile. "It's not your fault. I know you tried." Dianne came in just then, and Jamie scowled at her momentarily. "It's more Dianne's fault, anyway. But... I'll get over it. Somehow. I know you both meant to make it up to me." Christina nodded in resignation, putting her hands in the pockets of her terrycloth robe. "I understand. I'll get you tickets some day, Jamie." She started to leave the room as Jamie peeled the silver foil from her kiss, Dianne glaring at her second-in-command's back. "You're so cruel, Chris---" Dianne was saying, but she was interrupted by a shriek from their protege. "Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god oh my god ohmygod aaaaAAAHHHH!!" Jamie was screaming, waving around something wrapped in foil as she scrambled up from the floor. "Back stage passes! You got me backstage passes!!! How did you do this, you horrible awful person?!! And how could you LIE to me like that!" "I never lie. I just exaggerated and left some stuff out," Christina responded placidly, hugging the jubilant Jamie. "When I couldn't get tickets, I had a friend of a friend who's in PR get in touch with the band. It seems they remember you quite fondly, and when I explained how I made you miss last week's concert, they felt it only fair that you get to go." She grinned at Dianne. "And Dianne got the limo that will be picking you up." "You WHAT? You wonderful people! I love you, you know that?" Jamie was dancing now, scaring the cats under the table with her enthusiasm. "You are such a tease, Chris. How could you mess with my head like that?" "Children never appreciate things unless they know how much trouble their parents went to," Christina said with a sniff, then grinned. "Besides. I really *did* damn near give both me and Dianne a heart attack trying to get those things. I just wanted you to be grateful. Do you hate me?" "NO. And look, there's two tickets!" Jamie hugged Dianne, then Chris again. "You can come with me." Christina's face went stony. "I can what?" "Oh, come on, you know you'll have a good time," her Merc Child said, taking a bite out of the Hershey's Kiss. "You want to come with me, don't you?" "Uhhhhh, well---" "Oh, *please*," Jamie begged, and Dianne smothered a grin as Christina glared at the GHP. "It'll be so much fun. Really, you'll love it." "When you put it like that," the MMG said, smiling painfully, "how can I refuse?" * with love to my Merc Child and fellow Merc Mommy, Christina vqrw76a@prodigy.com Merc Mommy General (...sometimes parents sacrifice their own likes so they can make their children happy) And in the words of Dennis Miller, "I. Am. OUTTA HERE!" Have a great War, everyone! ********************************************************************* Tour De Force (3/3) by Meredith E. Pickering (with help from Kelly Gritten & Sharon Bhandari) Time: Tuesday, August 6, 6:20 p.m. Place: Eaton Centre "Well, I think that we should go after her!" Sharon declared, looking around wildly to try to spot Nat in the huge crowd. "Listen, I've got to buy a present a deliver it before eight." Jerry said, not thrilled with being in the middle of the quarrel between the two NatPackers. "But, but...." Meredith stammered, looking between Jerry and Sharon. "I think that I can solve this problem," Kelly said, appearing next to her fellow Pack members. "Kelly! How did you get here?" "I...uh, I was doing some shopping, and I caught sight of you guys with Nat." She hastened to reassure them that she did not blame them for Nat's escape. "I think that it's great that you offered to go shopping with Nat. But you've been on duty all day--why don't you let me take over baby-sitting her." Sharon looked doubtful, but Kelly gave her an encouraging smile. "I think it would be o.k.," Meredith interjected, "After all, she was responsible for those awful concoctions in the blender that drove Nat out of hiding." "True," Sharon acquiesced, "Still..." she trailed off, feeling guilty for shirking her duty. "You're tired." Kelly continued, "And you're new at this. Nobody should have to spend all their time in Toronto without getting any rest. Go back to your room. Take a nap. And while you're at it, please call Jenny and let her know that I'm guarding Nat: she must be worried sick trying to figure out where the three of you wandered off to. She probably thinks the Mercs kidnapped Nat. Or that you're working for another faction." "You're sure you don't mind?" Sharon asked. Kelly shook her head. Grateful, Sharon smiled and attempted to hide a yawn behind her open palm. "You're right. I will call Jenny. Just make sure you catch up with her!" "Oh, I will." Kelly breathed a sigh of relief, and set off after Nat, disappearing into the crowds of Eaton Centre. "I still can't believe you *forgot* to watch Natalie!" Sharon turned her attention back to Meredith. "Sorry," Meredith grinned at Jerry, "I was distracted." Jerry grinned back, glad that the feud seemed to be drawing to a close. "Oh, you're hopeless." Sharon told her companion, yawning again as exhaustion set in. It had been a very long afternoon. "I'm going to get some chocolate. Then I'm going to get some sleep." As they watched Sharon head for the escalators, Jerry asked, "I'm not sure I want to know, but why were you guarding Natalie? Who's Natalie?" "Well," Meredith began,"It's a long story. What do you say, I'll help you finish your shopping..." Jerry interrupted, "Then I'll take you to dinner and you can tell me the whole story." 'At least the man knows how to fill in the blanks when they're presented to him.' Meredith thought, letting Jerry take her arm as they encountered another flight of stairs. "By the way," he remarked, "I haven't even asked your name. Or what kind of food you like." He looked at her expectantly. "Meredith Pickering, but you can call me Meri." she paused, "And right now, I'll eat anything that hasn't been made in a blender..." ********************************************************************* Want Some Dinner? By Kira Chistiakoff, Merc as payment for Elizabeth Ann Lewis as dues for the Guild, paid to Dianne the GHP Tues 8/6 7:30ish As she set the table for two, she made sure that every detail was right. The napkins were folded into "Bishop's Crowns", the forks were lined up perfectly, the glasses were arranged precisely. The little details were the most important. The "guest of honor" so to speak would be in at any moment. She ran back into the kitchen to check the last minute details...make sure the salads were arranged picture-perfect, the soup was ready to be served, the shrimp were ready to be cooked. The "guests" arrived, and were shocked at the precision and beauty of the dining room. Kira greeted her two guests, and invited them to sit down. She offered them drinks, and told them their first course would be out in a moment. Lizbet leaned across the table and whispered to Dianne, "I didn't think she was going to make such a big deal out of this. I was just expecting dinner." Kira had walked back through the door with the soup bowls in time to hear the end of the statement. "This _is_ dinner, *my* way. Your soup today is Hot Apple with Mushrooms. I'll be back in a few." She returned to the kitchen and left the two to discuss the war. After allowing sufficient time for the pair to consume their soup, she returned to compliments on a truly unique soup, while she cleared the soup dishes. Moments later she returned with salad plates, on which were artfully arranged baby greens with cherry tomato wedges, carrot roses, and a petunia, topped with a sprinkling of a special Italian dressing. "This dressing is a family secret, I hope you two enjoy it. I'll be right back to refill your glasses." After refilling the glasses, Kira returned to the kitchen to finish the preperations for grilling the shrimp, and to slice the pork. Allowing them 8 minutes (a standard time) for their salad, she put the shrimp on the grill, basted them quickly, and returned to the dining room to clear the salad. The Grilled Shrimp and Snow Peas were followed by Pork Medallions, which were marinated in apple juice and garlic, basted with honey, served with Asparagus in Tangerine Sauce. After clearing away the dinner dishes, Kira brought in tea. Allowing the two time to relax and the dinner to settle before dessert, she made the final preparations. Wheeling the cart out into the dining room, the two were completely surprised by the array of things there, things they definitely weren't expecting to see. There were two plates with miniature cheese pies a bowl of marinated cherries, a bottle of Rum, and a gas burner complete with pan. "For dessert,. we have. cheese pie. topped. with cherries. flambe'." Matching actions with words, the cherries were on the plates, and the plates were on the table before the flames burned out their fuel. Satisfied with the effect on her guests, Kira returned her cart to the kitchen and started washing the dishes. (A job only done in someone else's kitchen) Listening carefully to the clink of silver on china, she could tell her dessert was being enjoyed. When the sounds had stopped, she cleared the table, and was gratified at the abundance of praise. "A job is only worth doing, if you do it well. I'm glad you enjoyed it Lizbet, I hope this settles our deal, and Dianne, I believe Lizbet and I just paid our dues. Ladies, feel free to enjoy the atmosphere, nobody should be bothering you for a while, if you need anything, I'll be in the kitchen." Kira left the two mercs to their own (numerous) devices, quite pleased with herself. ##### In payment for the shirt from For I Have Sinned. ********************************************************************* Hi Screed. Good to see you. by Pat Casey, Vaquera Tuesday August 6, 10 p.m. At the church Pat and Nancy wandered around the church. Vaquera/os were bummed out all around. Several were headed to bed. "I'm tired," Pat complained. "It seems like we've been in Toronto forever. I'll be glad to get back in my bed in Louisville." "Well, we are all tired," Nancy said. "War can drag people down, even for a good cause." Vachon sat in the corner, seemingly ignoring everyone. "Why so glum, Vachon?" Pat asked. "Oh . . . nothing," Vachon answered, not sounding convincing. Nancy flashed a week smile. "We'll be out of your hair very soon. I . . . hope." Pat grabbed a chair and sat down beside him. "Come on, Vachon. That long face means something. Surely we're not bugging you that much." Vachon rolled his big brown eyes at her. "Have you had a taste of vampire blood? How can you tell? Can you sense it?" Pat and Nancy laughed. "It's called body language," Pat said. "Yeah," Nancy agreed. "You look like you lost your best friend." Vachon wet his lips and stared out into space. "Well . . . I did." Then Pat understood. "Oh. You mean Screed." Vachon looked sadder than before. "Screed," he said, his voice low. "But I thought . . . " Nancy started to say. She turned and called out, "Hey, Torrey!" Torrey, walking through the room, stopped and turned. "Someone call me?" "Over here," Nancy said. Torrey walked the few feet to them. "Have you heard anything on Screed?" Torrey looked thoughtful. "Sure. Just like all the other rumors floating around. He's been hanging around in the sewers." Vachon jumped to his feet. "He's alive? Are you sure?" Torrey grinned. "That's what I hear. I can find out for you. Let me make some phone calls. His eyes sparkling, Vachon looked as eager as a child. "I'd like that," he said, his smile spread wide. Torrey left and returned shortly. "I just talked to Dianne, The Grand High Poohbah of the Mercenary Guild. She says she can tell Screed that you want to see him. I told her to do it as soon as she could. She said she'd tell him within the hour." "He's alive," Vachon said, looking amazed. "But how?" "Apparently someone one dug him up and restored him, like we did you." Vachon grinned. "When will he be here?" "Dianne suggested that he meet you in the basement, away from the others. He's a bit edgy around so many." Vachon rose and hurried toward the stairs. "I'm going too," Pat said. "I want to see this happy reunion." Pat, Nancy and Torrey followed close on his heels, which was no easy feat. Vachon nearly flew. In the basement, Vachon paced the floor. "Will he have trouble getting around the alarms?" Pat asked. "Not likely," Torrey said. "He has special powers, remember?" Before anyone could answer, a swoosh of air sounded. Screen had arrived. "V-man!" he shouted. "I 'ear you been looking for ole Screed." Vachon swooped the other man into a bear hug. "I thought you were dead, you drunken sailor." Screed pulled away, looking somewhat embarrassed. "Not 'fore the ladies." Vachon looked around. "These are my friends, Screed. They're using the church for awhile." Screed grinned cockeyed. "Buildin' is full o' sweet baby Janes. Looks like they've added a bit o' spit n polish to the ol' place. "They've cleaned it up real good, Screed," Vachon said. "Real good. I wouldn't have known the place myself." "I been back to me domicil," Screed said. "Been too busy to pick up aft meself. Someone 'ad been there doin' a bit o' work." "That was me," Vachon said. "I tried to tidy it after you .. . well after you . . . ." "Died on you?" Screed finished. "Ya did the ole bones good for Screedy. Buried me in the sand, ya did. Just like I asked ya." Vachon grinned again. "And I danced on your grave, sailor. I danced on your grave. Welcome back. This war hasn't been all bad after all." Pat, Nancy and Torrey had to agree. They quietly left the two old friends together and crept up the steps. Pat sniffed. "I love happy endings." "Yeah me too," Nancy said. Torrey chuckled. "Make that a threesome. THAT was a happy ending." ********************************************************************* White Flags and Battlefield Medicine 1/2 by Valerie Meachum and Linda Rose Pierce with the NatPack, and Cath Boone and Perri Smith with the Knighties Time: Aug 6, 10:00 p.m. Place: Nick's loft It was not long after sunset when a man's bellow of pain somewhere up the street interrupted the Knighties' conversation. Nick was at the window in a blink, trailed at top mortal speed by the War-jumpy group. What was going on *now*? "YooooOOOOOwwWW!" Even if it hadn't spiraled into an alarmingly stratospheric soprano, the second cry clearly did *not* belong to a man. The improbable pitch was, however, familiar to a few of the assembled Knighties. "It's Valerie," Perri declared positively. "I'd know that scream anywhere. Not quite the Patented Banshee Special, but close enough." Nick nodded, having experienced said Banshee Special under his own roof a few Wars before, and threw the window open as confirmation appeared in the form of a tall, reed-thin figure limping around the corner supported by a tall woman with long, curly brown hair. With a quick glance around to be sure no one else would observe him, he flew to the sidewalk next to the injured NatPacker and her companion. The Knightie assemblage was too far away to hear what was said below, but a few seconds later Nick picked Valerie up and headed for the door downstairs, followed closely by the other woman, who they could now see was Linda Rose. Cath shut the window, and a few moments later the elevator door swung open. "...same damn ankle I racked up three times in ballet, twice in cheerleading, and once in soccer. Stepped in a blankety-blank hole in soccer, too. *Walking*. Ow," she added as Nick set her on the couch. "Ow ow ow ow ow ow." "I thought you did the suffer-in-silence dance-through-it thing," Allie said lightly. "Only when I'm performing. Besides, I've gotten a lot better about it. Ow ow ow ow ow owowowowOW." The last burst of ow's was rather oddly accompanied by laughter, and she clutched Linda Rose's hand for dear life, effectively preventing the EMT from taking over the first aid duties. "Calamity Val strikes again." "Doesn't seem to be broken." The Knighties had returned to their loose protective formation around Nick, some more protective than others and regarding the NatPackers with some suspicion. They were all friends here, but this War and the events leading up to it were certainly fraying nerves. "Could somebody get an icepack, please?" "I'm on it," Cath piped up, heading for the kitchen. Nick looked up at Valerie, and whatever he had been about to say was replaced by "What happened to your hair? Again?" Confused for a second, she reached up to the very short bob she currently sported. "Oh, yeah. Last War I still looked like a low- rent version of Uma Thurman in _Pulp Fiction_, didn't I?" She shrugged. "The black never washed out. Had to chop it off. Ow ow ow. Ow. Good distraction attempt, Nick. Ow. 'A' for effort." "I tried. Thanks, Cath." He took the icepack the Knightie co-leader held out and centered it on the worst of the swelling. "There's an--" Nick cut himself off with a flash of a grin as Cath handed him the Ace bandage she had found in a kitchen drawer. "Thanks. So what happened, Valerie?" "Third bozo today tried to take my purse," she grumbled with a shudder. "This one had a knife. I left some nice teethmarks in his arm. Then I stepped in a pothole running away." "After I *convinced* you to run away," Linda Rose put in. "Even NatPacker's are supposed to know the better part of valour at that point!" "I know, but it's so *annoying*. And after that psycho who hijacked the subway yesterday..." Nick looked up at her in alarm. "You were on that subway train?" "Yep. *And* in the bank that got held up Thursday. What's happened to Toronto, anyway? I've spent half the War giving statements to cops. Ow." "Not Toronto," Linda Rose corrected. "Just you." Sitting next to Valerie, Perri quipped, "You've been hanging around Natalie too much. I think you've caught her luck." "Hopeless trouble magnet," Valerie muttered in an odd voice. Then she blinked and turned her attention back to Nick, whose reaction to the mention of Natalie hadn't gone unnoticed. "Nick, I'm sorry--" Perri began. He half-smiled, with an effort. "It's all right, Perri." "That's why we're here, actually," Valerie said. Finished wrapping the ice to her ankle, Nick carefully lifted her foot into Perri's lap to elevate it. "Ow. We thought it was about time you knew she's okay, Nick." "Past time," Sandra commented, frowning slightly. "Maybe," Valerie allowed. "But we've been a little busy making sure she *was* okay." "And that she stayed that way," Linda Rose added. "Besides, we just found out from Kira that Nick was around to tell." "So, she *is* with you," Perri said with an air of triumph. The two NatPackers just nodded. "And she's okay?" Nick asked urgently. "She's not...?" ************** (How's that for a dramatic breaking point ?) ********************************************************************* White Flags and Battlefield Medicine 2/2 by Valerie Meachum and Linda Rose Pierce with the NatPack, and Cath Boone and Perri Smith with the Knighties Time: Aug 6, 10:00 p.m. Place: Nick's loft "She's alive, and she isn't a vampire," Linda Rose confirmed. "And pretty close to up-and-about. GT's making her go easy on that, though." "Close?" Nick repeated in a whisper. "After three months?" "We won't sugar-coat it for you, Nick," Valerie told him solemnly. "It was a close call. *Too* close." He nodded, swallowed. "You said Mary GT is taking care of her?" "We *all* are," Linda Rose answered. "Ever since...ever since you both came up short on marbles at the same time," Valerie added. Grimacing slightly at the flippant reference to that terrible night, Nick asked softly, "Can I see her?" "That's for her to say," Valerie told him. "And she hasn't decided yet. I gotta tell you, Nick...I don't know what I would do in her place." Nick looked from one NatPacker to the other and back again. "Perri said you guys were...upset." "That's one way to put it," Linda Rose confirmed. "Some of us more than others." "And then there's Sharon," Valerie mumbled. Linda Rose shook her head. "One thing at a time. Sharon is a little much for him right now. Sharon is a little much for *us* right now. She's been acting very odd--almost like she had been whammied." "And Jennie and the orange..." "He *definitely* doesn't need to hear about that." "All right, all right," Valerie conceded. "Point is, Nick, we came because we're not quite as...upset as some. But we agreed that you *should* know." "Thank you. And...thanks for understanding." "Oh, we understand all right," Valerie confirmed, her voice taking on a warning tone. "You're not off the hook, buster, not by a *long* shot. You can't run away from this one." About ten Knighties started to respond loudly, but Nick waved them to silence. They stayed quiet, but glared at the NatPackers with heat that should have left them in little piles of ashes. "I know." Nick answered them. "Do you?" Linda Rose asked, honestly curious. "When we found Natalie lying there in your loft, nearly lifeless in hypovolemic shock...." Linda Rose trailed off--it was too much for her to endure. It was almost too much for Nick, as he flashed back to that night. "You frightened me to death, taking her like that," he told them in return, remembering those horrible hours searching for Natalie...or her body. "I almost tore Toronto apart. I was so afraid..." The NatPackers were caught between guilt and justified anger. "We were busy saving her life, Nick," Valerie pointed out. "There wasn't really time to leave a message." "Wasn't there?" Marcia asked icily, pointedly. "There's been two months to drop any of us a message to get to Nick, somehow. 'Hi Nick, Natalie's alive, so you don't have to kill yourself with worrying.' Your basic self-respecting *five-year-old* could have managed that much." Valerie just looked at her stubbornly, and Linda said hotly, "We found her in the loft nearly dead from a huge vampire bite. Would you have left a note? Saying what?--'Hi Nick, we noticed that you left some blood in Nat. Here's where we are taking her if you want to finish dinner?'" She sighed. "We didn't know what to think, until she came around a couple of days later, and Nick was nowhere to be found anyway." "Look, I don't want to get into this," Nick interrupted before the room temperature could drop any farther. "I'm more than willing to admit what happened was my fault --" "Like hell it was!" Robbie stated. There was a general murmer of agreement, which Nick stopped with another look. " -- I just want to see Natalie," he finished. "It's easy to say 'Oh, it's all my fault' and go hide in the corner," Valerie said softly. "Taking blame is *not* the same as taking responsibility. And your way of taking blame *keeps* you from taking responsibility." "And your way of laying responsibility keeps Natalie from sharing any of that blame *or* responsibility," Perri observed just as softly. "Or isn't Natalie capable of making any of her own choices?" She shrugged slightly. "It takes two to tango, Val." Another general murmur of agreement from the Knighties, who'd been growing steadily more hostile. Only Nick's obvious desire to keep the peace was keeping them from NatPack throats at the moment. "Nobody is denying that, Perri. It *does* take two." Valerie's jaw tightened as she tried to ignore all of the Knighties. "Bottom line is, Nick, you gotta do better than lip service or we *are* all going to be as 'upset' as Sharon before you're done. And however hopeless your self-image may be, you *don't* want that. I guarantee the NatPack on a righteous rampage can do a lot worse to you than even *you* think you deserve." Nick chuckled. "I don't doubt it." He might have been amused, but the Knighties moved forward, their faces set and entirely *un*-amused. "They'd have to go through us," Dottie said grimly, "And I guarantee none of you would enjoy it." Valerie looked from face to face, and believed them. Even Perri was looking bloody-minded. She held out her hands in a gesture of peace towards Nick. "I don't believe you're half as rotten as you spend all your energy trying to convince everyone you are," she said, refusing to be intimidated by the Knightie ranks. "But if you keep 'proving' it the way you have been, especially to Nat, you just might manage to convince me. And then I'd have to hurt you. It'd break my heart, but I'll do it if I have to." Valerie was deadly serious now, any hint of teasing drained from her tone so there would be no mistake. "I don't want it to come to that, Nick. Nobody does. It's up to you." "You're right, Val," Perri said calmly, her grey eyes cool and unreadable, for once. "We don't want it to come to that. But I wouldn't count on being able to hurt him, whatever the circumstances. NatPack reputation notwithstanding, I think you'll find we are just as capable of... over-protectiveness... where Nick is concerned as you are with Natalie." She smiled, just a little. "Please don't go there, my friend." Valerie gave her an understanding nod, and the Knighties who had been tensed relaxed somewhat. "We came to open the lines of communication," she said. "And we've done that. We'd better get going." She grimaced at her new injury. "GT's going to be all *over* my case for this." She moved to unwrap the Ace and remove the ice, then rewrapped the swollen ankle. "Maybe I should give you a lift," Nick said. "You shouldn't be walking to the subway on that." "Thanks. But I think we'd better call a cab, all things considered." Valerie snapped her fingers. "Oh! I almost forgot! If we come home without the Natmares, we're dead meat." Nick blinked. "Natmares?" "Our department," Cath informed him, crossing to where the two identical stuffed orange dragons were stashed. "Safe and sound. We'll be in touch about the meeting." "Ditto for Jennie. Just as soon as we have a decision from Nat." "I'll get the cab," Perri volunteered, picking up the phone. "Tell her I..." Nick looked completely lost at that moment, and impulsively Valerie grasped his hand. "Never mind. Tell her that I want to see her." "There's a solution," Linda Rose told him positively. "There has to be. Just don't expect everything to be the same." "Nothing can ever be the same," he agreed. "The cab'll be here in a minute," Perri informed them. "And ask Jennie to contact us," Catherine said, still sitting next to Nick. He was quiet, his eyes full of some emotion Valerie didn't really want to interpret. "We will," Linda answered, then suddenly put her arms around Nick in a fierce hug before she moved to help Valerie to the door. "Take care of yourself, Nick." He smiled, as Perri said to Valerie, "I hope that Nat will be okay, too." She shut the door gently behind them. ********************************************************************* Hearts and Flowers The Valentines Get Goopy 2/5 by Maureen Wynn and Kelly Gritten, with the Valentines When: Tuesday August 6, just after sunset Where: Wherever Valentines are hiding The silent figure skulked her way down the dark street, stopping every now and then to be sure she wasn't being followed. When she was certain that the street was clear, she made her way to the shadowed doorway half-hidden behind a large dumpster. *knock* *knock, knock,knock* *knock* A muffled voice came from behind the door, "Who comes?" "A follower and a seeker," the figure in black replied. "What do you follow?" "He who has gone before," the litany continued. "What do you seek?" "Light!" The seeker's quest was rewarded by the opening of the door, letting bright light spill out onto the sidewalk. She entered, and gave the door-keeper a brief hug in greeting. "Hey, how did you get here before me?" the seeker asked, surprised by the identity of the door-keeper. "I have my ways," the door-keeper said, her mysterious tone ruined slightly by the giggle that followed. "Come on, we're all here now, so we can get started." "Is...*he* here...?" the seeker asked, following the door-keeper down the stairs to the wine-cellar. "Oh, yeah!" *** "The meeting will come to order," the Cousin in charge said, standing up and banging her gavel. "Come on, quiet down," she added when that didn't silence the group in the back who were enthusiastically discussing the latest fan-fiction. "...and in this one, Nat flies off to Rio with LaCroix, leaving Nicholas to spend eternity locked in the toy factory with Tracy--" "Silence!" the voice boomed out across the room, effectively quieting the conspirators gathered there. He glared at the motley assemblage-- he was already annoyed that he had agreed to this fruitless endeavor, and the behavior of these people made him doubly sure that nothing would be accomplished. Sighing heavily, he sat back in his chair and closed his eyes. But the memory of soft, warm skin beneath his fingers, the enticing fragrance from her long hair as he drew closer.... He sighed again, as hope quivered to brief life within him. Now that it was silent, Cousin Cherri said, "One of our members has asked that this emergency meeting be convened. She nodded to the person who had been serving as the gate-keeper. "I'll let her explain why," she said, then sat down. Chris stood up, and addressed the crowd. "I'm sure you're wondering why I called this emergency meeting of the Underground," she said. It was clear that she was excited about something. The petitioner cleared her throat, then continued. "I know that it is the fondest wish of many of you here that Natalie return from her seclusion and rejoin...her friends. I'm happy to say that that day has come." A ripple ran through the crowd, and the Cousin tapped her gavel once again for silence. "Nat has liberated herself from sanctuary," the speaker continued. "And she has not yet rejoined the NatPack. In fact, I have it on good authority that she is wandering around Toronto, revisiting some of the sites from her past." She stopped, for dramatic impact. "And I think that she will be in the Azure tonight!" Chaos (the event, not the person) broke out. The turmoil was disturbed, however, by the sharp, shrill ring of a phone. Cousin Cherri lifted the receiver and listened into the earpiece. "Good," she said shortly. "We'll take care of it." She hung up the phone and turned to the master vampire beside her. "She's on her way there." ********************************************************************* Hearts and Flowers The Valentines Get Goopy 3/5 by Kelly Gritten and the Valentines When: Tuesday, August 6, after sunset Where: Azure Kelly stood in one of the many shadowed doorways which seemed to litter Toronto and paced irritably. She was nominally keeping an eye on Natalie, but she had an even more frustrating task--waiting for LaCroix to turn up after her call to the meeting. She wondered briefly what the ethics were concerning dual affiliations--as a NatPacker, should she really be aiding and abetting a meeting between her friend and the dangerous vampire? As a Valentine, could she resist? She sighed, and suddenly understood the appeal of being a Merc and getting *paid* for things like this. But then, there are rewards even more enticing than chocolate... "Is she here?" LaCroix asked, stepping into the doorway beside her. Kelly gulped. She had, of course, met Nick's master the day before at CERK, but her memories of that meeting were...fuzzy, at best. Besides, she didn't remember him being this close to her, looming over her in that way which he undoubtedly thought was intimidating, but only served to remind her *why* she was a Valentine. She snapped herself out of reflections of that sort. "She's already in. I made the reservations for you earlier, so there's no problems there." She grinned at him. "I hope that I can consider this a favor that you owe me." He glowered at her, but she merely cocked her head, waiting for a response. "Yes," he said finally, forming the word as if it pained him. He looked over to the restaurant, and then a smile crossed his lips. "You have done well." She resisted the urge to wriggle like a puppy (Pull yourself together! Sharon and Jill would be horrified!). He turned to leave, but first pierced her with a stony glance. "And Kelly, my dear..." "Y-y-yes?" "No fan fiction shall come from this." She tried to put on a "who me?" expression, but doubted that she succeeded. "Sure. No fan fic." He was gone. ********************************************************************* Hearts and Flowers The Valentines Get Goopy 4/5 by Kelly Gritten and the Valentines Time: Tuesday, August 6, after sunset Place: Azure Kelly thought irritably as she crouched behind an extremely large potted plant. It had not been difficult to persuade the manager to let her creep into the restaurant silently. After all, LaCroix was paying to have the entire place to himself (again). And as far as the manager knew, she was still acting on LaCroix's behalf. The wad of cash from the salt smugglers' cache had not hindered her chances of gaining entrance either. Hoping desperately that LaCroix would be so focussed on Natalie that he would not notice another mortal heartbeat, Kelly made herself comfortable behind the greenery and took out her pad to scribble intriguing bits of dialogue. This could be so rewarding! If only she hadn't missed the first few minutes as she tried to find a hiding spot within ear shot! ******* "You're falling into a rut, LaCroix," Natalie tut-tutted. "Will the champagne be drugged?" LaCroix regarded her passively. "Perhaps we are both in a 'rut', as you say, my dear doctor. I certainly did not expect to meet you again so soon." She gave a rather unladylike snort. "Soon, huh." Natalie fingered the pale pink roses in the centerpiece delicately. "Not white roses, this time." He closed his eyes for a moment. "No. I should not have sent you white ones the first time. They are not...you." He eyed her carefully. "I am happy to see that the pink matches the color in your cheeks. You must be recovering nicely." She did not respond, but sat silently as a waiter, who had abruptly appeared bearing a bottle of red wine, poured drinks. "Thank you," Natalie said, a bit more forcefully than she intended, "but we won't be needing anything else." "Won't need anything else," the man parrotted dumbly and stumbled off. LaCroix thought. He returned to the task at hand. "Have you seen Nicholas yet?" Her lips tightened, and she took a drink of the wine before she answered. "No," she said finally. "I'm sure that I will see him soon enough." "Oh?" he asked, checking his voice for any betrayal of emotion. "Are you not looking forward to seeing him again?" "I don't care to discuss it with you, LaCroix," she said stiffly. "Considering the events...surely, you don't still love Nicholas." Her eyes narrowed. "You know, I'm rather tired of people telling me how I feel." She gave him a long look. "What about you? How do you feel?" It was his turn to go on the defensive. "What do you mean?" She gestured at the surroundings. "Why are you here?" She smiled slightly, as if enjoying a private joke. "Have you come to profess your love?" He rose from his seat and circled the table like a predator tracking his prey. "Is that what you want? A man who is not afraid to express his love?" She flinched, hearing in her head the voices from long ago, hearing Nick saying the same words to Schanke. LaCroix was behind her now. "Love is a fitful thing," he continued, placing his cool hands on her shoulders. "Better to talk about desire, perhaps? Desire, which can burn as deep as the brightest star?" "Be careful that you don't get scorched, then," she replied, amused by his attentions. She was tired of being uncertain. Tired of being afraid. Just pretty tired in general. "Desire does not appeal, then? What about lust? Shall we debate the vagaries of the deadly sins?" he whispered in her ear. She turned her head and met his gaze fully, the blue eyes challenging her. "Have you ever loved, LaCroix?" He blinked. Still, he would not deny her this. "Yes," he said softly. "I have loved." Her lips grazed his, the cool touch reminding her of Nick. The silence lengthened, and-- Was disturbed by a large "Ah-choo!" Kelly thought. Natalie continued regarding LaCroix. "You wouldn't be able to stand the loss of control," she whispered. "Perhaps you are right," he said simply, and stood up straight. "Kelly," he said, his voice pitched to carry an undertone of warning. "Yes?" she asked, sheepish and slightly fearful. "Make sure that Doctor Lambert finds her way back to your mutual friends safely." He offered a hand to Natalie, helping her as she rose from the chair. "Good night, LaCroix," she said firmly. After they had gone, he picked up one of the pale pink roses from the table. "No thorns go as deep as a rose's," he quoted. "And love is more cruel than lust." He smiled as a drop of blood welled on his fingertip. ********************************************************************* Hearts and Flowers The Valentines Get Goopy 5/5 by Kelly Gritten and the Valentines Time: Tuesday evening, after sunset Place: Outside Azure Natalie and Kelly made their way carefully out of Azure, Kelly watching her friend closely for signs of fatigue. "Nat?" she asked hesitantly, "You aren't mad at me about LaCroix being here, are you?" Natalie smiled reassuringly. "No, I had to see him sooner or later. I'm glad it was sooner. I'll need all my strength to deal with other confrontations." "Well, I--" Whatever Kelly had been about to say was cut off as they were group- pounced (because while NatPackers bounce, Valentines pounce). "Natalie!" a plethora of Valentines, who had been lurking (small "L") outside the restaurant--and, unbeknownst to LaCroix and Nat, peering into the windows--screeched as they greeted her fondly. They peppered her with questions. "How are you!" "It's so good to see you!" "Did you see LaCroix?" "How was it?" "What was he wearing?--Ow! Hey, don't hit me like that! It's a valid question...." Natalie waved them all to silence affectionately. "I'm fine, I'm glad to see you guys too, yes, it was fine, and I can't remember, respectively." She leaned a little heavily on the NatPacker beside her. "Now, if you don't mind, I think that I need to get some rest. The Pack is expecting me." The group parted easily to let her through, and Kelly led her to the Autumn-Wine (tm) Chevy Cavalier. A few of the Valentines moved forward to help Nat inside the car, while Kelly moved around to the driver's side. "Good night, Nat!" they chorused. "Good night, guys. And thanks for thinking about me," Nat waved goodnight. Kelly smiled at the group over the roof of the car and mouthed silently, "I've got details! See you at the next meeting!" "Oooooooh," they moaned, visions of fanfic dancing in their heads. And they heard a voice exclaim, As the car drove out of sight, "A Merry War to all Valentines, and to all Valentines a good night!" ********************************************************************* Go get 'um, Vachon. by Pat Casey, Vaquera Tuesday August 6. 2.a.m. At the church Vachon sat with Jay in the quiet room. Most Vaquera/os had gone to bed, except for the few strays that had their nights and days confused. Those who kept vampire hours. "This is getting ridiculous," Jay said. "We've been bombarded too much. Enough is enough. If I were a vampire .. . ." "Yeah? " Vachon asked. "What would you do?" Jay displayed an evil grin. "I get that Cousin Cherri, if it was the last thing I'd did." Vachon looked thoughtful. "I should, shouldn't I." He hesitated. "After all, Torrey and Sherri are my friends and they've taken a lot of abuse because of me." Jay looked pleased. "But what could you do for revenge?" "Who said revenge?" Pat asked, walking up to the men. She looked sleepy and yawned. "Are you suppose to be sleeping?" Jay asked. "Who can sleep with all this on their minds?" Pat replied. "Torrey and Sherri looked awful when they got back. Those cousins are vicious." Jay pressed his lips together, looking irritated. "They should pay, all of them, but I'd be satisfied if the ring-leader paid." "Cousin Cherri!" they all said in unison. "I'll do it," Vachon said." "Do what?" Pat asked. "You don't want to know yet," Vachon said, grinning. "Wait until I get back and I'll tell you all about it." "You can't physically hurt her," Jay said. "It's against the war rules." "I won't," Vachon said, grinning. "She might even love me after this is over." And then, he was gone. Pat and Jay could only stare at each other. "No telling what Vachon will do," Jay said. "This could start another war, before this one finished." "I hope not," Pat said. "I'm tired. I want to go home and sleep in my own bed." ***** Vachon zoomed into the Cousin's HQ. He knew that LaCroix might hear him, but he could only hope that LaCroix would ignore him. Good! LaCroix was on the air, his voice droning out his rhythmic citations. All he had to do was find Cherri and get out fast. He crept through the sleeping bodies looking for Cherri. There. In the corner by herself. He stooped beside her. She was talking in her sleep. "Hair. Make it white. On their forehead . . . . Rose. A white rose. Cousins. Nah .. . black rose. Heh, heh." Vachon put his hand across Cherri's mouth. She awoke, startled and tried to scream. "Vachon!" she mumbled under his hand. He pulled her up to sit, keeping her mouth covered. She tried to pull it away, but his strength prevailed. The light was dim but it was enough. "Look at me, Cherri. Do you see me?" She nodded. "You are a Vaquera. You love me and you'd never do anything to my friends. You are a Vaquera. You renounce your cousin membership." "I'm a Vaquera. I renounce my cousin membership." Her eyes looked dreamily at Vachon. He removed his hand. "I love you, Vachon. Will you marry me?" Vachon grinned. "Maybe another time . . . another life. I got to go and you've got to go back to sleep. You're dreams will be of me." "My dreams will be of you," she said, smiling. "I love you Vachon. Don't leave me! I love you." Vachon frowned. Maybe he had used a little too much influence. Hoping to slip out quietly, he got up to leave. Cherri crawled on the floor and hooked on to Vachon's leg. "Don't leave me Vachon. I love you! Don't leave me." He dragged her several feet before he could detach her. He stooped beside her and met her love-struck gaze. "Go to sleep, Cherri. That will make me happy. Go to bed." Cherri looked confused and then snuggled back down into her bed. Some of the other cousins had roused with the commotion, but no one woke. Vachon blew out in relief. Cherri slept again, her breathing steady. "Vachon," she mumbled into her pillow. "Sweet, sweet Vachon. How do I love thee? Let me count the ways." Vachon crept past two more cousins and vanished up into the air. LaCroix's voice still held it's monologue, spilling into Vachon's ears. *My good friends, I fear ill-will is in the air.* *It comes with the night, and can hit anywhere.* Pleasure filled Vachon. LaCroix might retaliate. But then, he might not. For a while, Vachon had another fan. He loved being a vampire! ********************************************************************* Dona Cherri Author: Cherri L. Munoz aka Cousin Cherri Dona Cherri Date: Wednesday, August 7 Time: 2:30 am Place: CERK HQ and Vachon's Church This takes place between VAQ: Go get'um, Vachon and Cherri's Rescue. Many, many thanks go to Dona Torrey and Teniente Sherri for letting me play with their Vampire and for letting me have fun with the Vaqueras/os in general during this war. I love you all and look forward to the next war. Cherri ----------------------------------- Dona Cherri suddenly woke up and looked around. This looks like CERK HQ. //What am I doing here?// she wondered. //I must have been kidnapped.// After throwing on some clothes (black silk...ooooohh, this feels good), she crept out of the building and ran. When she found a pay phone, she looked into her purse to get a coin and discovered a Cell Phone. //What am I doing with this? I don't own one of these things.// Oh well, it's here. I'll use it to call a cab.// Within minutes, the cab pulled up and she gave the directions...Vachon's Church. ======================== As the city lights passed by, she thought about her dreamy vampire. //I love you, Vachon.// she kept repeating to herself. "I will never leave you. Never." "What was that, lady?" the cab driver called. "Oh, just talking to myself." "I'm in love." "Of course you are," the cab driver laughed as he pulled up to the church. "Are you sure you want to go in there?" Dona Cherri payed him off. "That's where my lovely, long-haired Vachon lives." "Sure he does," the driver said in a *she's delusional* tone-of-voice then gunned the accelerator and sped away. ======================= Teniente Sherri watched from the air conditioned look-out. Vachon hadn't said exactly want he had done but only gave her instructions to wait for Cousin Cherri's arrival. His exact instructions were to let her in immediately and to go along with anything the Cousin might say. Teniente Sherri didn't like surprises but if that's what Vachon wanted...that's what Vachon was going to get. Just then a cab pulled up; after Cousin Cherri had paid, she waved to indicate her desire to be let in. Sherri didn't like it but orders were orders. Using the broom, Teniente Sherri made a path for the Cousin to enter. When the two were safely inside, Cherri hugged Teniente Sherri. "Oh...I'm so glad to be home. Those mean, nasty Cousins kidnapped me but I slipped away. Where is he? My beautiful, wonderful, dropdead gorgeous Vachon. I love him. I asked him to marry me. He's just gotta marry me. I love him soooooo much." Her voice trilled. Teniente Sherri was dumbfounded. What had happened? She was only able to stammer. "This way." When they entered the room, Dona Cherri ran over to hug and kiss Vachon. "My darling.." she brushed the long hair from his face. "...the Cousins kidnapped me." She kissed his cheek. "I love you, my dear...dear Vachon. Will you marry me? You have to say yes...you just have to." Vachon looked over Cherri's shoulder as she hugged him again to indicate to Torrey and Sherri that everything was OK and that they should play along. At first, Dona Torrey just stood there with her hands on her hips as she contemplated the Cousin's strange actions then she looked at Teniente Sherri with a smile. "Dona Cherri?" she tried the Vaquera honorific to see the Cousin's reaction. Cherri bounced. "Yes. Dona Torrey. I'm so glad to be home and I'm so glad that you and Teniente Sherri have been our leaders. You've been wonderful." Teniente Sherri walked over and placed the back of her hand on Cherri's forehead. "Well, she doesn't feel feverish," she said as she looked at Vachon with concern. The vampire shrugged as he got another kiss. He tightened his grip when the kiss missed his cheek and landed on his neck. Looking into Cherri's eyes,.. ... "You will be happy to just sit around and talk to me." He released her. "Oh, my dear, wonderful, incredibly handsome vampire," Dona Cherri enthused. "Let's sit over here and talk." Teniente Sherri and Dona Torrey looked at each other and burst out laughing as they walked to the couch to join the two. Tears were streaming down their faces. This was too good.... just too good to be true. ********************************************************************* The Kidnapping of Bonnie (1/2) By: Lisa Prince (Mercenary/Cousin) & Bonnie Pardoe (Vaquera) Time: Wednesday, August 7, 4:00 a.m. Place: The Alley Behind The Raven *********************** Lisa waited patiently in the alley behind The Raven. The singer should be coming out soon. After having watched from the darkened recess of a doorway in the alley wall for the past three nights, Lisa knew that Bonnie would leave via the back door, jump into the Vaqueros' van and head back to the church. Lisa had been following Bonnie around day and night and found that Bonnie was a very routine- oriented person. She had a specific schedule of events that she seemed to follow every day without deviation. Unfortunately for Bonnie, this morning would not follow her prescribed routine. *************************** Flashback to Friday at Noon *************************** Lisa sat watching the nervous woman sitting in the food court of Eaton Centre for a while before sneaking up on her Mercenary-style. Once she was right beside the woman and still unnoticed, Lisa said loudly, "I'm Lisa. Pleased to meet you." The Merc. nearly burst out laughing when the young woman nearly jumped out of her chair in fright. It was obvious that the woman was in a big hurry since she immediately handed the package with the payment in it to Lisa. It was almost as if the woman were afraid that someone would see their meeting. Lisa was surprised at the woman's nervousness at meeting in public since the woman had specifically asked the Merc. to meet her here. \\She's hiding something.\\ Those thoughts about the woman's nervousness were quickly forgotten as the gift-wrapped package caught the Merc's eye. She stared at the package for a moment. Something... something... elusive dashed across the shadows of her mind. With a slight shake of her head, she took the package from the woman. Lisa set the box on the counter and began carefully unwrapping it. "Ooh! I love getting presents -- like it's my birthday or something!" The woman eyed the Merc as if she were a creature from another planet. Lisa realized that this woman just didn't understand the existence of Mercenaries. If a payment were gift-wrapped, it was considered a gift not a payment and therefore was exempt from the Mercenary Guild's customary take. Being a Mercenary Cousin, she had to come up with something devious and underhanded to do every now and then or the General would get very annoyed with her. She couldn't have the fuzzy- eyebrowed General mad at her. That just wouldn't do. Quickly opening the box and inspecting the contents, Lisa neatly folded up the gift wrap and tucked it into her leather backpack. Lisa handed over a slip of paper with a phone number written on it. She simply said, "Let it ring." Then, as the woman glanced down at the piece of paper, Lisa slipped away as quietly as she had arrived and headed back to her rooms in Merc. Central. She knew that she had some investigating to do. **************************** Lisa was brought back to reality by the banging of the back door of The Raven. After ascertaining that the singer was alone, Lisa snuck up behind her and placed a chloroform-soaked rag over her mouth and nose. A brief struggle later, that resulted in a rather vicious kick to the Merc's shins and a rather lengthy cursing streak, Lisa had the snoozing Vaquera comfortably secured in a wheelchair heading through the secret tunnels back to Merc. Central. ***************** to be continued ***************** ********************************************************************* Cherri's rescue by Lisa McDavid Look, due to a time lag, I'm not sure Cherri isn't doing her own rescue post. If one by her turns up, just consider this one a nightmare. Time is a few hours after Go Get 'Um, Vachon, at Vachon's church. "Cherri has become what?" LaCroix's voice had the clarity of glacial ice. Lisa McDavid stiffened her spine and stared trucculently back at him. Vampires were like cats; the first rule was, never let them stare you down. "Dona Cherri. And she's gone off to the church, too. It's not her fault! She was brainwashed -- Vachon whammied her." "Can one wash what isn't there?" growled LaCroix. "An interesting Zen question." "I don't know. Philosophy has never been my strong point." Lisa's tone went up several levels. "General? What are you doing?" "Preparing to fly out of the window," said LaCroix matter of factly, throwing Lisa over his shoulder in a fireman's carry. "Ook," replied Lisa, who could barely breathe and had a problem with heights. She spent the rest of the flight clutching the vampire and trying not to speculate on their altitude. So much for staring down vampires. ********************************************************************** "You can look now," LaCroix told her. "And don't forget the rest of your instructions." He soared upwards and over the roof of Vachon's church. Lisa gulped and begin climbing over the gate as Fred and Gandalf the Vampire Cat landed in the yard. The geese surged in like a honking, hissing tide, and surged back like trick photography. Fred flapped, cried his proudest war cry, and pecked a few of the slower learners. In less time than the writing takes, the geese huddled in tight little clutches. Gandalf flew to each in turn, staring into their eyes. Lisa picked her way carefully, swearing under her breath in three languages plus Siamese Cat, through the goose poop without the slightest challenge from hundreds of soundly sleeping geese. "What the -- " The Vaquera on the door didn't get to finish the challenge. Lisa stepped through in the wake of a yell and dive from Fred and a flying "pfitt!" with a paw full of claws from Gandalf. Simultaneously there came a crash from the sanctuary and most of the Vaqueras who were getting ready to hurl themselves, or things, at Cousin Lisa and her escorts ran out of the room. A trio who were lounging around Vachon at the far end of the room sat their ground. The vampire merely raised an eyebrow slightly and blinked before returning to his chat with Dona Cherri. Lisa's mouth dropped open. She had been ready for any attack except none. "What's the matter, can't you talk without LaCroix to play ventriloguist?" asked Torrey. Sherri merely glared and reached for a broom. "No, she simply possesses that rarity among women, a knowledge of when to keep quiet." LaCroix stood in the doorway. "Vachon, I hope you weren't too attached to that ghastly pre-Raphaelite madonna over the altar?" "No," said Vachon. "Picking up some of Nick's old tricks, are you?" "Au contraire. Nick learned about windows from me. He used to waste time trying to lay siege." LaCroix strode across the room and grabbed Cherri by the arms. Vachon came to his feet. Sherri hit LaCroix with the broom. "Let go of her!" "My dear young lady, I was about to make the same request of you." The older vampire forced the struggling Cherri, who was screaming in Spanish for her eternally beloved Vachon to rescue her, to face him. Vachon, looking a bit embarrassed since Cherr was getting more and more florid by the momment, moved to help, but was stopped when Lisa thrust something straight into his face. No, not a cross. Lisa had unfurled a life-sized poster of Vachon in the cow suit. It was a good, recognizable likeness. "Back off," said Lisa, "unless you want to replace her on all those billboards. To Vachon's credit, he made a lunge in her direction anyway, but both Torrey and Sherri cried out something that Lisa didn't understand, Spanish not being one of her languages, and caught their vampire's arms. He shrugged, and stood by as LaCroix forced Cherri's eyes to meet his. Whatever LaCroix said was too soft for the mortals to hear, but Cherri gasped, shook her head, and murmured "Oh, my God!" and fainted. LaCroix threw her over one shoulder and Lisa over the other. "Oh, by the way, Vachon, if you don't want Bonnie back, I'll be glad to have her. True deviousness like hers isn't something to be lightly tossed aside, you know." And, flanked by Fred and Gandalf, the General and his mortals soared through the open door and into the night. ********************************************************************* Dancing Around the Truth... Partly - Perkulators Nick's Loft Wed., 8/7 8:30 am Partly stood outside Nick's loft, gathering her courage. Dealing with vampire unnerved her. Good looking ones, even more. Having to go in and tap dance around the truth with a being who could sense her feelings or even *force* her to tell the truth was not her idea of fun. Knowing that Nick won't do anything like that, didn't help alleviate the knot in her stomach. Holding her breath, she knocked. The door immediately opened. "Yes?" Partly only knew a few of the knighties on sight, and this young woman was one of the many she had never met. "I'm Partly." She smiled brightly, covering her nervousness with perkiness. "Nick wanted to see me." The Knightie smiled in returned. "Glad to finally meet you, Partly." She led the way inside. The room had people and belongings scattered everywhere, and Partly cautiously entered. She had never been in Nick's place and she would have loved to take a tour, but she decided against asking for one. Every eye in the place followed her as she walked across the room, there were numerous "Hellos" and "How you doings", but Partly was to nervous to answer them. Nick waited by the fireplace, leaning against the mantle and holding a glass in one hand. As she approached, he signalled one of the Knighties to give up her seat in a chair in front of him. Partly changed course ever so slightly so that she would end up standing behind the chair, keeping it between herself and the pensive vampire. She was scared enough without sitting like some errant schoolgirl, while he stood above her. Partly knew she was over reacting, but she couldn't help it. Nick, in fact all vampires, seemed to have that effect on her. Nick smiled slightly when she stopped behind it. "Hello, Nick." Partly smiled again, putting all her energy into sounding relaxed. "It's nice to see you." From the reactions of the Knighties around her, she was doing a good job of emitting a confidence she truly didn't feel. Nick returned the greeting, then got right to the point. "Perri passed along your questions and I want to know what's going on." Partly was glad she was as far away from his penetrating gaze as she was. She gripped the chair tighter and gave him the answer she had worked out hours before. "I'm just trying to understand what happened to Tracy. I didn't get here for the funeral and I felt things were left undone. I was just trying to find someone who had seen her after she died. Did you?" During her statement Nick had withdrawn slightly, his eyes darkening. "No." His voice was soft. "When *is* the last time you saw her?" "I was at the hospital, in her room. I was thinking about bringing....." His voice faded for a moment, then continued. "Nat stopped me and I left. I came back here, and I didn't see her again." "So you *didn't* see her after she died." Tracy's survival suddenly become more possible. Nick shook his head. "Nat came here later and said Tracy died. That's when we..." His voice faded again, and he stared at the fireplace under his feet. It was just before I..." Partly felt, rather than saw, the Knighties move forward, a wave of sympathy for their beloved leader. She still had some questions to ask, so she spoke quickly, concerned that the Knighties would stop her. "Nick. Nick!" He looked up. "Do you know anyone who saw her after she died? Did Nat?" Perri was suddenly standing beside her, and put a supportive hand on her shoulder. Partly suddenly realized she had been irrationally thinking of the Knighties as enemies. She took a deep breath and tried again. "Please, Nick. It's important. " Nick stared at her a moment, then answered. "I don't know. I think Nat was there. What about at the funeral?" Partly shook her head. "It was closed casket." Nick frowned. "What about the doctor who signed the death certificate?" Partly had just gotten around to that small detail earlier today. "Nobody seems to remember her at the hospital. She was a one day loaner that no one seems to be able to locate right now." Partly had learned what she wanted to. "Thanks, Nick. Sorry about-- everything." She turned to leave. "Wait." Partly winced at the force in his voice. She turned back, thankful that Perri still stood beside her. "Yes?" "Are you telling me that Tracy's alive?" His look almost hurt her. Partly chose her words carefully. She didn't want to lie. "No. I didn't say that." Nick's eyes narrowed. "No. You didn't. Is she?" "Nick, I... I... I..." Partly calmed her nerves. "There are inconsistencies. And people have said they've seen her. I... I'm just doing follow up." Nick knew she was avoiding something. "Is she alive?" Each word was said slowly, clearly, forcefully. Partly met his eyes for a second then looked away. "I can't say." She looked up again. "I just can't say." She groped for a satisfactory reason. Found one. "I've got a responsibility here. I can't have people think Tracy's alive because of some look-alike, or a few errors in some paperwork. I'd have to know for sure before I started making claims like that." He was still listening. "In the same way, if Tracy would be alive and I would be convinced this look- alike was *really* her, my loyalty would be with her. And I'd have to do what *she* wanted, irregardless of what I wanted." She looked him straight in the eyes again. "I *can't* say." Nick held her eyes for a moment, then nodded. The entire room let out the breath Partly had been holding. "Like I said, Nick. I'm sorry." "So am I." He smiled slightly. "I hope your responsibilities aren't too difficult to live with." Partly nodded and left, sincerely hoping the same. ********************************************************************* Dream A Little Dream of Me.... (3/3) by Diane Echelbarger, unaffiliated Wednesday, August 7 9:53am Disclaimer: this is a hopelessly, sloppily sentimental piece I wrote as a birthdy present to myself. If you don't like tragic romance in the Russian tradition, you probably won't like this. (Lane-- this *definitely* applies to you! ) Also, Jamie was going to help me write part 1/3 of this series, but she's been sick, so it may very well never get done. Sorry, all. :( Toronto General Hospital ICU The monitor-- third from the top on the left-- shifted rhythms. The nurse, accustomed to the anomaly by now, made a note on the chart and ignored it. He woke to the smell of blood and burning. Rising swiftly from the drapery-hung bed, he pushed back the curtains there, and those on the window, and looked out onto the square, still illuminated by the post- sunset glow. The Red Palace-- that was where the smell was coming from. And Ilyena was there. He took flight, not bothering to check for watchers, and landed near the entrance to the small, walled garden where they had met, so many months ago. Ilyena, a high-ranking servant in the 10-year-old Prince Peter's household, had stepped into the garden for a breath of cool air in the endless twilight that was a Moscow summer evening. He'd intended to feed and leave the city that night, but something about her-- her oval, wide-eyed face, like the image on a Byzantine icon, or her utter calm when faced with a strange man suddenly appearing out of the darkness-- had intrigued him, and instead they had talked, that night and many more..... He shook the memory away and broke through the door, searching the bloody, body-strewn corridors for her, for her scent of locust and honeydew, pushing anyone fool enough to get in his way aside with bone-breaking force. Most of them fled him as soon as they saw his eyes, crossing themselves and gasping prayers for protection as they ran. He found her at last, huddled in an alcove, half-hidden by the velvet curtains. She had been run through-- by a sword, probably-- and her face was deathly pale. "Ilyena!" he called, and lifted her gently, cradling her blood-soaked body in his arms. Her eyes flickered, and opened. "Vascha?" She had never learned to pronounce his name properly, finally settling for the affectionate diminutive commonly used for Vassily. "Ilyena, I can help you. I can save you!" he offered, laying a hand on her throat. The pulse was slow, erratic. There wasn't much time. "Make me.... like you?" she whispered and he nodded, shifting her so that her throat was within easy reach. Ilyena gasped as he moved her, and bent her head, preventing him. "No, Vascha. I go to God; do not deny me this." She coughed a little, red foam flecking her lips, and her left hand scrabbled weakly at her tunic. "My cross. Give me--?" She coughed again, and her hand faltered. Gently, he reached into her collar, pulled out the small silver shape- -which no good Russian would ever remove-- by its chain, careful not to touch the actual cross, and guided it into her grasp. She clutched it, and a look of peace stole over her face. "Farewell, Vascha. I will speak for you, when I stand before God." "Ilyena--" he urged, hearing her heart's beat slow and waver. "No." She made an effort, placed the hand that did not hold the cross on his arm, and smiled. "It's all right, Vascha," she whispered. And died. The anomalous reading returned to normal. The nurse sipped her coffee and made another note. ********************************************************************* Roses are red, and so is... Place: Nick's Loft, and Merc. HQ Time: Wed. August 7, 9:58 pm Author: Dawn Steele -- Merc. Chaos reigned. Actually... it didn't. Things were rather calm at Nick's loft. Carrie, Allie, and a bunch of other Knighties (It's a pool party thingy! You're in the post if you want to be!) were busy planning on how to figure out which of Nick's books was the real one. The fact that most of the plans involved sitting on Nick's lap, and holding the book for him to check it out was purely coincidental. Catherine and Perri were busy talking animatedly to harried AOL users. By one of the great synchronicities of the universe, they turned to face each other at the same time, their eyes met and they both said. "There needs to be a Cease Fire." Suddenly, the room started to tremble, pictures rattling on the walls and dishes clattering in the kitchen. A loud and resonant voice seemed to come from the walls, with the words echoing around the room and through their bodies. "THERE WILL BE A TWENTY-FOUR HOUR CEASE FIRE COMMENCING AT 10. O'CLOCK" It stopped for a minute before adding an addition. "and that's eastern standard time, of course." The Knighties stared at the walls, trying to figure out where the sound had come from, existential debates as to whether there really was a diety called the "WarMistrss@aol.com", and whether they should pay attention or continue with their plans of committing mayhem and chaos throughout the night (-- Isn't that what the Knighties plan but never get around to doing? ). Carrie leaned over, and whispered something in Allie's ear. "What?" Carrie whispered it louder. "Allie -- I can't remember seeing a lock on your bike when I walked past it earlier. Are you sure you locked it up?" "My bike!" With hardly a moment for anything beyond grabbing a bare of bicycle gloves (which she automatically took because... well, she was going to see her bike!), she rushed outside. Just in time to see her bicycle being moved into a gray van. "Nooooooo!!!!!!!!!!" Allie rushed at the van, arms everywhere and screaming at the top of her lungs. "My bike! Not my bike!" Without thinking she lunged into the back of the van, only to hear the doors slam shut behind her. The doors were locked, and she was alone in the back of the van except for a seat with a note on it and her bike. She checked out the bike first for damages, and then once she was reassured as to its safety, she picked up the note. Allison, Checked out your bike yet? It'll be returned later. Now sit down and buckle up because you're in for a ride. Allie sat down quickly when the gray van started with a loud rumble, and then accelerated sharply. After a couple of sharp turns, she pulled on the buckle and snapped herself in. The sleeping gas did it's work a minute later. ***** Allie swam in and out of consciousness. Vaque impressions of feeling wet, and then hotter than she should be, made themselves felt. At one point, she thought she could make out voices. Allie automatically sorted them out into modified screenplay format. V1: "Now what I call bodypaint!" V2: "Thanks, but you can see what a quandary I'm in." V1: "You kidnapped her the cease fire started?" V2: "9:59.45 to be precise. So does that mean we have to keep her here in Merc Central till ten o'clock this evening?" V1: "It's a gray area." Silence. "Well... how about you just wait to it this evening." A longer silence. "How much did you charge?" V2: "A Toronto Trek flyer signed by Nigel Bennett and Kathryn Long." Allie felt a weird buzzing in her ears (or was that the fluorescent lights), and then passed gently back into unconsciousness. *********** There was someone tapping her on her shoulder. Allie came away with a start, to find herself leaning against a metal post. A very short man was peering at her thoughtfully. Despite the weather (and the current state of darkness), he was wearing a long trenchcoat, fedora, thick beard and sunglasses. "Are you okay?" "I... I think so." Allie tried to get her sense of equilibrium back. Shouldn't she be in Nick's loft? "Good." The man reached a hand into one of the trenchcoats big pocket, and pulled out a pound of Godiva chocolate. "Here you go. Enjoy!" Allie turned over the package in her hands. There was something wrong. Looking up, she recognized where she was. The corner of Yonge and Bay, right next to the Eaton Centre. Strange looking people were walking by and giving her even stranger looks. She walked closer to the doors. She remembered there being telephones inside. As she got closer to the doors, Allison Percy realized why everyone was giving her a wide berth. She was red. Completely red. Her clothes, sneakers, gloves and all, had been dyed a dark red. Her skin, had been dyed or painted about ten different shades of red. There were even pictures of bikes, helmets, and trophy's all over her arms and legs -- she didn't want to look at her face. Leaning against the wall, she pulled off the cover of the box of Godiva chocolates (wrapped in red and gold paper). There was a small red card inside with darker red ink writing on it. I recently read that (Gents Mag. pt 2 700 [Ireland]), "A red haired woman, if met first in the morning, betokens something unlucky falling out during the day". For your sake, I hope that it's just a superstition. There was even a happy face drawn underneath. ********************************************************************* The Kidnapping of Bonnie (2/2) or "Who Said You Could Sleep?" By: Lisa Prince (Mercenary/Cousin) & Bonnie Pardoe (Vaquera) Time: Wednesday, August 7th, 10:00 a.m. Place: Merc. Central ******************* After a good deal of jostling, Lisa finally arrived back in the basement of Merc. Central. She was quite surprised that Bonnie hadn't been wakened by the bumpiness of their journey. Chloroform usually isn't that strong and wears off fairly quickly when administered in the miniscule quantity that Lisa had used. She wanted her kidnappee awake as soon as possible. She knew there was lots of stuff to cover in a relatively short amount of time. After tranferring Bonnie from the wheelchair to a regular chair in a spare utility room in the basement, Lisa handcuffed Bonnie's hands behind her back [with regular ones, not the fur-lined ones like Nat gave Nick ;)], blindfolded her, gagged her, and used smelling salts to wake her up. Sputtering and coughing, Bonnie came back to confused consciousness. "Mummph?" she questioned when she noticed she couldn't see or move. "Mammprhumph?!?" she asked with agitation from behind the gag that Lisa had secured before reviving her. Bonnie shook her head in an attempt to clear it. Getting really agitated, she began twisting and turning in the chair in an attempt to break lose. "It won't work," Lisa replied quietly. "You're here until I decide to let you go." "Mumphramphf!!!!" Bonnie said. "If you promise not to scream, I'll take the gag off," Lisa said calmly. "Do you promise?" "Frumphumph!" Bonnie replied. "Or shout," Lisa said quickly, "you can not shout." "Frruumpphumph!!!" said Bonnie. "What?" asked Lisa in puzzlement. "Mumfrumphbfrumph!!!!!" mumbled Bonnie. Looking at her captive with something akin to amusement, Lisa said, "A simple nod or shake would be fine." Bonnie nodded vigorously. But, after Lisa had removed the gag, she went back on her word and screamed, "What's going on!?! Where am I? Who are you? What do you want? I didn't do anything!!!" "Really?" asked Lisa in surprise. "I'm sure you must have done something or else why would you be here? Maybe I should give you a little time to think about it." Giving a sinister little cackle, Lisa got up to leave the room. She figured that Bonnie could use a little time alone to contemplate her current predicament. There was nothing quite so Cousinly as leaving a prisoner to stew about their future. "By the way," Lisa said over her shoulder, "you can scream all you want, nobody will hear you down here except for the rats." Rubbing her hands in glee at the upcoming interrogation, Lisa wandered upstairs to see if she could find Lane, The Recruiter. Bonnie heard whomever it was leave the room. She had absolutely no idea what was going on. Her mind raced with thoughts as she tried to figure out who had kidnapped her and why. Her mind simply asked over and over again, \\Why am I here? What did I do? Why am I here? What did I do?\\ The constant repetition of the questions along with the silence in the room started to get the better of her. She'd been up since 7:00 a.m. the previous morning and was totally exhausted. \\Wars certainly take a lot out of you\\ she thought to herself with a huge yawn. She could sleep anywhere at any time, so in short order, quite against her will, she dozed off. ************************* Bonnie was alone in an empty, dark room. The bright lights blinded her and prevented her from seeing LaCroix against the far wall. But, she knew he was there. She could sense him lurking. "LaCroix! Only you could be so bold. I smelled your foul stench the moment you set foot in this room." LaCroix advanced on her and she retreated, not being as cavalier with her life as some may think. "You will tell me the location of Nicolas's brown book," LaCroix threatened. "I don't know what you're talking about. I'm on a diplomatic mission to Toronto," Bonnie said while being backed into the wall. In fear, she covered her face with her hand and tried not to look at him. Suddenly, someone grabbed her hand and began tugging on it. She looked up at the not-so-long-haired Spaniard and said, "Aren't you a little short to be Lucien LaCroix?" "I'm Luke Vachon. I'm here to rescue you. I've got your unit of whole blood. I'm here with Nick Kenobi." "Nick Kenobi?!?" Bonnie asked right before a loud bang sounded. ********************** Lisa barged into the utility/interrogation room. She fully expected to find Bonnie cowering in her chair in fear of what was to come. She was more than a little shocked and annoyed at the sight that greeted her. Bonnie was sitting in the chair right where she had been left. But, her head had fallen back to rest on the head of the chair in what appeared to be a most uncomfortable position. Her mouth was hanging wide opening. Lisa stood dumbfounded in the doorway. For the first time in her Mercenary career, she had absolutely no idea what to do. The situation was so unbelievable that she almost thought she was asleep and dreaming. \\She can't be sleeping. How on Earth could she be sleeping? She's supposed to be afraid. She'd supposed to be nervous and worried. She's not supposed to be asleep.\\ She probably would have stood there staring at Bonnie for a lot longer, but Lane banged loudly on the door before opening and coming in. Bonnie was finally startled awake by the noise and sat there doing her best to work the kink out of her neck without being able to use her hands since they were still securely locked in the handcuffs. "Who's there?" she asked before muttering, "I really should cut back on those free drinks the staff get at the Raven." "Be quiet," warned Lane, "we have some questions to ask you." Bonnie fell silent and waited for the questions to begin. "Name?" asked Lane crispily. "You kidnapped me and you don't know my name?" asked Bonnie incredulously. "Name?" repeated Lane. She raised an eyebrow, and in the calmest, coolest voice replied, "Bond. James Bond." Then she giggled, "I've always wanted to say that!" Lane was furious! He grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her, then repeated the question through gritted teeth. "*What* *is* *your* *name*!?!" This time the captive complied as completely as humanly possible. "Bonnie," she said. "Well, not really, but that's what most people call me. Well, except this one woman I know, she called me 'Bonnela' which I really like and I use in my sig sometimes but no one ever really calls me that. Then there's this friend of mine who used to call me 'Bonniella' which is really close to 'Bonnela" which is probably why I like it so much, but mostly she called me 'Bonzai' but we're not friends any more so now she doesn't call me anything. Now if you were to ask my mother, she would probably tell you ---" "ENOUGH!" Lane shouted. At the same exact time, Lisa said with exasperation, "Take a breath for goodness sake!" "Let's get on with this," said Lane. "Occupation?" "What does that have to do with anything?" Bonnie quiried. "Can we just finish this with the least amount of hassle?" Lane asked in desperation. "Yes? Good. Occupation?" "Well," said Bonnie, "that also depends on which job you're looking for. My home job or my here job? At home I'm a scientist, but up here I'm the lead singer at the Raven." "Lead singer?" repeated Lisa. "Whohooooo, fancy. By the way, I've been meaning to ask you, do you always allow vampires to help you dress?" "What!?!" shrieked Bonnie. "They have video tapes of all of that you know," Lisa replied conversationally. "The Vaqueros, I mean. The church is totally wired with video cameras and such. Must be some interesting viewing going on there." Bonnie paled visibly before turning as red as it is humanly possible to turn. "Lisa!" snipped Lane, "business, here." "Oh," she said with chagrin, "sorry about that." "Lisa? The mercenary Lisa?" asked Bonnie. "But ... but ... I paid you for that phone number already. Why did you kidnap me?" "Good going, Lane. Just give me away to everyone. Now look, Bonnie, this little Miss Innocence & Light act just isn't working," Lisa said turning her attention to her captive. "You might as well just confess." "To what?!?" Bonnie asked. "Oh, come on," said Lisa, "we have evidence." "But," whined Bonnie, "I didn't *do* anything." "Yes, you did," replied Lisa. "No, I didn't," said Bonnie while shaking her head. "You did," said Lisa. "I did not," said Bonnie. "Did to," wheedled Lisa. "Did not," asserted Bonnie. "Did to," Lisa said in a sing-songy voice at the exact same moment that thoughts of Bugs Bunny and Daffy Duck started dancing through her head. "Did not," Bonnie yelled. "Did to," shouted Lisa. "Did not," screamed Bonnie. "Did not," Lisa bellowed. "Did to," Bonnie responded. "You did NOT!" Lisa replied with total insistence. "I did TO hire you to cut Vachon's hair!" Bonnie asserted. "Ah ha!" Lisa said, her voice full of triumph. "I knew it." "Oops. Damn," Bonnie swore under her breath. After Bonnie's confession, the Mercenaries had wheedled and cajoled and bribed and had been generally devious in an attempt to get Bonnie to renounce her Vaquera-hood and embrace Mercdom. The Mercs were always looking for people who weren't afraid to handle tough jobs and could stay cool under pressure. This Vaquera had a job done on the vampire she was dedicated to and then kept it secret for over a week. But, Bonnie explained that attack was a form of affection and her paying for the attack on Vachon had been done out of *extreme* affection. She was a Vaquera to the bone. She just happened to be a Vaquera that liked men with neat hair. Finally giving up on Bonnie as a hopeless case, Lisa and Lane dragged her out of Merc. Central and into the van. They drove quickly across town and just as they were about to pass the not-so-abandoned church, they opened the side door and pushed Bonnie out. She went tumbling to the side of the road and sat there screaming and swearing at the back of the van as it receded into the distance. ********************** to be continued ********************** ********************************************************************* A writer gets an unexpected audience by Sonja Launspach with Linda Rose Pierce, Carrie Krumtum and the Knighties Time: Thurday, August 7th--morning Place: Nick's loft Disclaimer: I apologize for the lack of paragraphing. I have ancient software and it strips all the tabs when a file is uploaded. :( I've tried to add spaces when I could. I do take responsibility for all the typos . Sonja paced back at forth at Merc Central waiting for her client to deliver the package to her. She acquired a messenger's uniform, the better to look the part. The delivery wasn't going to be a problem but since this was her first independent job she wanted to do a good job. The car was ready and she'd studied the Toronto map to be sure that she didn't get lost. She'd checked with Abby earlier to make sure that her target would be in. Everything was ready. She checked her pocket watch again. The doorbell rang. Her package had arrived. Great. Showtime. She grabbed the keys and went out. After a short uneventful trip across town, she arrived at Nick's loft. She got out of the car carrying the manilla envelope. She rang the bell and waited. "Yes, who is it?" "Special Delivery for a Nicholas Knight." Sonja tried to look as messenger-like as possible. Perri must have thought she was ok, since she buzzed her in. She rode the elevator up. She looked around at the loft full of Knighties, looking for Nick. "You can give it me." Perri told her, she held her hand out for the package. "I'll sign for it." She reached for the clipboard in Sonja's hand. "I'm supposed to make sure he gets it personally." Sonja reached for the clipboard now scrawled with Perri's signature. "I'll see that he gets it......" but she was talking to empty air. Sonja was already across the loft; she handed the package to Nick "Specially Delivery, sir." "Uh, Thanks." he took the envelope and begin to open it. The attention of the Knighties were on Nick so nobody noticed the little camera that the merc had put on the wall to record the scene for her client. It had a limited battery life so it would be useless for recording anything else. Sonja drove car around the block and pulled over out of sight of the loft. She checked the sound and picture quality on the little monitor she'd brought. One thing her professor had drilled into her was always check the sound on a recording. So far so good, she waited watching as the drama unfolded. It was a quiet drama Nick opened the envelope carefully, under scrutiny of his body guards, just in case. Inside he found a note. Dear Sir, I believe the enclosed short stories would be a interest to you. The author of the stories is someone of your close acquaintance and is too shy to share these literary works with you herself. Therefore I have taken it upon myself to put these works in your hand for your perusal, knowing the constraints of daylight on your activities. It is my sincere hope that the reading will ease that burden and make the time fly quickly for you. It is also hoped that you might gain a truer understanding of the esteem you followers hold for you. Yours, the fledgling Natpacker Enclosed with the note were two stories "Breaking Dawn" and "Knight Confessions" both by Carrie Krumtum. Ignoring the looks of curiosity from his followers, Nick settled on the leather couch, after clearing a space and began to read the first story. "What, ..wait a minute, you don't mean..." Nick started to murmur as he realized he was the main character in the story. "Problems, Nick? Perri asked "Uh , no" he said and held the pages away from prying eyes behind him. "Now why would she do that?" . Nick looked around the room, searching for Carrie, but she wasn't there. The pages rustled as he set them down next to him and continued reading, "What? he'd never say that." came after a few more minutes. The knighties were trying to go about their various tasks but this was becoming difficult. Nick's periodic outbursts as he read were piquing their curiosity about the mystery packet. Stories, they'd figured that out from the note lying on the couch, but whose. A wistful look appeared on his face, longing tinged with unhappiness as he read the parts with Natalie in them. They reminded him of her. He came to the end of the story. He sighed. Everyone watched him. He sat quietly for awhile, thinking of Nat, and he did wonder about Carrie, what possessed her, really, the bottom of the lake? But, he looked so pensive that Perri asked "Bad news, Nick? She couldn't stand to see him sad. "Uh, no, just nothing.." he replied. He turned to the second story, unsurprised to find himself as the main character this time. "Well, desk duty, huh?" this one started out ok, from a desk to undercover. He continued reading, frowning as he went along. "Now, wait" he said after a time, startling a couple of the knighties.He reread a few pages and shook his head in disbelief. "I wouldn't do that." more pages, more frowning. "How'd she know that?" the frown had lifted, coming as he did to a part about Natalie. The parts about Nat distracted him from the way the rest of the story was going. "How dare she?" Nick put down the pages he was reading and scanned the loft again, looking for his absent follower. "How dare she what, Nick?" He was asked, but he didn't reply, going back his reading. "They wouldn't" He sighed, "it just isn't right, it isn't." The loft door slammed as Carrie tired to maneuver it open with her hands full of bags filled with donuts and other pastries. She'd gone on the breakfast run. "Hey guys, I think I got what everybody wanted, but.. ." her statement trailed off into sudden silence as she realized Nick was standing there staring at her, piles of papers scattered at his feet and on the couch. "You" he said, "You, you-how could you?" "What?" she squeaked, "what did I do?" It's one thing to know that Nick is a vampire, another to be facing an angry one. "This," He picked up some pages, crumpling them in his hands. The bags she was holding threatened to slide right out of her hands, fortunately a couple of the others rescued them before the donuts joined the story pages on the floor. He thrust the note into her now empty hands. "How dare you, How? He paused, "I'm only going to ask once. did you write "Breaking Dawn" and "Knight Confessions"?" He turned and paced down the loft as she read the note. Her face became pale. She nodded. "I thought you were my friend, I thought, I don't know. I know these last couple of months have been hard. But I never expected this." His voice was soft now, regretful. Carrie looked down at her Birkenstocks, unwilling to meet Nick's eyes, her usual cheery smile gone. She wished she was any where but here, oh to be a vampire and fly away through the skylight. " I guess this means you didn't like them" she said, trying to stall. Silence greeted her statement as the entire loft watched her and Nick. Nice try, Carrie, she thought to herself. " I , uh, I was possessed by, uh, aliens, " she muttered as she began to edge around Nick toward the stairs at the loft's end. "Aliens" "Yeah, in my dreams, they forced me. " She backed further toward the stairs. "Now, Carrie," Nick began. But whatever he was going to say was lost in her loud sobbing, "I'm sooooryy," as she bounded up the stairs and slammed the bedroom door shut behind her. Carrie lay face up on the bed, the black silk sheets were soft and comforting beneath her. She was going get whoever did this, she was. But for right now, she wasn't going anywhere, not until Nick left and then, then there'd be hell to pay. Perri came down the stairs; nothing she'd said had been of any use. Carrie would not come out. Perri couldn't tell if she was mortified or mad or both. "She says she's not coming out." "Great, with followers like these, who needs enemies," Nick muttered, exasperated, to no one in particular. Back in the car the tape ran out and the monitor went dead. Sonja smiled, her client would be pleased. She started the car and drove back to Merc Central to enjoy her payment. ********************************************************************* A nice, friendly game of cards, anyone? (1/2) by Robbi Egersdorf with collaboration from Carrie Krumtum and the Knighties Time: Thursday, August 7th-- noon directly after The Aliens in My Head Place: Nick's loft Carrie had sat and eaten her cheese danish while Nick drank of his meal of choice. They had talked about the stories and how different he would have said this or done that. After a while Carrie had begun to relax and actually laughed at some of the off-handed comments Nick made. That crisis solved, he had said his good-days and went up to his now empty bedroom to get some rest out of the sight of prying Knightie eyes. Once Nick had disappeared into his room and the hardest part of the storm was over, Perri moved to the next step. "Okay, I want a thorough search of this place to be sure there aren't any other surprises left behind by our little messenger girl. She was obviously not an innocent bystander. I'll bet money she was a Merc." A quick search of the loft turned up the little camera on the wall, its batteries now spent. This meant the whole dirty scene had been witnessed and recorded for outside eyes. Cath put the camera into Carrie's hands, where she sat on the couch. "What's this?" Carrie began to examine the object more closely. A look of horror came into her eyes. Cath nodded "yes" to her unspoken question. "So whoever hired this Merc has a videotape of the whole thing." Carrie rolled her eyes. "Great, my most embarrassing moment in living color for all to see." "I'm afraid so, deary." Dotti sat down beside Carrie. "The very culprit who paid the Merc to do this to you is probably sitting and laughing their head off at you." The thought made Carrie's blood fairly boil. "Our first priority is revenge. We have to figure out something to make this person very sorry they every hatched such an idea" Dotti continued. Just then the phone rang. "It's for you, Carrie," Lauren called. She had been the first to the phone, a practiced teen skill. Carrie looked to Dotti and took a deep breath before speaking into the phone. "This is Carrie Krumtum." "Carrie," came the voice on the other end, "This is Linda Pierce, remember me? I'm the one who sent you three pounds of chocolates for finishing 'Knight Confessions'." "Yes, why are you calling?" She purposefully kept her voice cool while the question of why a Natpacker would be calling her circled in her mind. "I'm calling because... the little incident with your stories... well, it was all my idea." "What?" Carrie screeched into the receiver. "Just let me finish." Carrie quieted, listening to what this woman had to say. Dotti, now dying of curiosity, stood ear to ear with Carrie to listen in on the conversation. "I just got the tape of what happened. I'm sorry. I didn't think you would react so badly. That's all I have to say." There was a click on the other end and the phone went dead. Stunned, Carrie held the phone and just stared at it for several minutes. "What are you going to do?" Dotti asked as she watched the wheels of the other woman's mind turning. "I don't buy it. If she thinks this is going to get her off the hook, she's got another think coming. If she was really sorry, she would have offered to send me the tape." Carrie breezed through the loft, gathering up her purse and to borrow a car as well as to get directions to the law library. They left after explaining to Cath and Perri what was up. ------------------------ Place: the law library of Osgoode Hall at York University Time: 1pm and into the afternoon The library Marg Yamanaka had suggested to them was the Osgoode Hall library at York University located next door to the 'new' city hall. It was an elegant building surrounded by a huge wrought iron fence with 'cow-proof' gates. "Cow-proof, huh?" Dotti had said on their way into the library, "how fitting." Dotti and Carrie sat in the middle of shelves of law books. There were many of the books scattered across the table where they sat. Each was busily entranced by the book in their hand. Dotti put down the book she was reading and headed back to the shelves. "Here's another one," Carrie called out to her. They had been combing law books for obscure and long forgotten laws that were still in force. Anything to snare a certain Natpacker. "Yes, that one might come in handy. You didn't find anywhere where it had been repealed?" Dotti inquired. Carrie shook her head and with a smile recorded the obscure, but crazy law she had just found. This continued until late. They left the library with several of these laws they could arm themselves with in order to exact the revenge that Carrie was even now hatching in her devious little mind. When they arrived back at the loft, Carrie avoided the curious stares of the many Knighties present. She passed everyone, ignoring their questions. Grabbing up the phone and the phone book, she looked up the number of the Toronto Tribune. "Hello, I would like to speak to Ronald Tolman. Yes, he's my cousin." She covered the receiver and answered Dotti's questioning expression, "He owes me a favor, a very big favor." ********************************************************************* Making a List, Checking it Twice (1/1) by Tigon Diana Hooker/AlphaWoof~WoofPack Wednesday/7 AUG 1996/12:30pm Toronto, FG Mansion The heavily shuttered living room was crowded with dogs as the three human members of the Woofpack found seats. "I suppose you are all wondering why I asked you here..." said Tigon in her very best psuedo- official voice...then cracked up in laughter. They were all getting a little slaphappy, admittedly. "No...no, seriously..." Tigon wiped tears of mirth from her eyes and pulled out a legal pad. "We the WoofPack had decided that our primary objective this War was to make a mark on each fac...er... affiliation." "In other words," said Steve, "We want them to know that just because we've only got a few people and it's our first War...don't count us out." "Yup." "How are we doing?" asked Becky. She watched Tigon try to write out some notes on the legal pad, heavily impeded by the cast. "Oh, give me that," Becky said, snagging the pad and pen from the Alpha and putting on her glasses. Tigon studied the deep scratches in her cast, courtesy of LaCroix's eagle, and stated, "I feel that we've brought ourselves to the attention of the Cousins with our borrowing of LaCroix yesterday." "Not to mention burying Cherri in socks," grinned Steve, "Even though that was a personal prank on your part." Harrumphing and looking around nervously, Tigon continued, "We've the alliance with the Knighties...and according to Maryann that should probably carry over into the Nick & Nat Packers." Becky ticked off two more names on the list and looked up expectantly. "Um, we participated in the raid on the Raven with the Knighties, so that should take care of the Ravenettes." "Besides," added Steve, "With the party being held there on Friday night, we probably don't want to..." "Exactly," agreed Tigon, "So we'll just leave it at the raid...we don't want to be overkill on any one group anyway." "What about the Mercs?" asked Becky. "Er...we don't want to upset the Mercs." Leaning back and regarding the VampRat curled up in her sling, Tigon grinned, "Besides, Timon made an impression on them all by himself." Becky put down another check. "We might as well mark off the few RatPackers too, thank to Timon." "That's it," said Tigon. "Who does that leave?" "Um..." Becky studied the list. "The NatPackers, the Immortal Beloveds, the Die-Hards, the Perkulators, and the Vaqueras." Steve grunted, "So what are we going to do?" Grinning, Tigon bounced off the couch, "We're going to return socks now." ********************************************************************* Returning Socks (1/2) by Tigon Diana Hooker/AlphaWoof~WoofPack Wednesday/7 AUG 1996/1pm-2pm Toronto, various HQ's (following 'Making a List, Checking it Twice') The Knighties... Tigon addressed the assembled Knighties, "...and so I just wanted to apologize for borrowing them without your permission, and for any inconvenience." She nodded at Steve, hefting the large bag of socks, and he handed it to Catherine. "They've all been laundered...twice actually...and folded. I'm sorry for not returning them sooner, but I was waiting for the enlargements to get back so I could give you this at the same time." With that, Tigon pulled the framed picture from out of her jacket. There were 'oohs' and 'aahs' at the 8x10" color picture of Cousin Cherri buried in socks. Catherine took it appreciatively and said, "Thanks," before passing it around. "Well, you guys are just the first drop off, so I'd better get back on the road," smiled Tigon. Maryann edged through the crowd. "Is it time?" At Tigon's nod, she said, "Good, I want to come along." The Cousins... Next they headed toward CERK, where Tigon again had Steve carry in the socks. She glance around the lobby nervously, wondering if Cherri was going to take advantage of the drop-off, or worse...if LaCroix had decided to take offense about yesterday's little trip. However, she was greeted by her fellow FangGang member, Starr. Of course, Starr being Starr, Cherri or LaCroix might be preferable. "Hey, Tigon...I see my plot to break your arm worked." "Yeah, right...seen any big black leopards lately?" "No...not yet," said the small Cousin. "You will." Starr's eyes took a mad gleam. "Over my dead body." "My point exactly." Tigon grinned evilly. "Ha ha...you go ahead and send the kitty. I could use a new fur coat...oh, and by the way, I will have The Jacket." Tigon gritted her teeth, "Over my dead body." "My point exactly." "Ladies, ladies...please!" Interjected Steve desperately. Tigon and Starr turned to regard him curiously. "What's with him?" asked the Cousin. "He obviously doesn't recognize affectionate banter when he hears it," replied the AlphaWoof. The N&N Packers... Maryann helped carry the socks to the N&N Packers, figuring the Knightie liason could make any introductions. "Hi, are you Soulseeker?" Tigon asked. Receiving the affirmative, she launched into her apology and picture presentation. The Ravenettes and Mercs... They dropped off the Ravenette's few socks and the picture before heading on to the Mercs. Merc Central was bustling as usual. Waving to a harried Lizbet rushing by, Tigon and Becky proceded to the Grand High Poobah's door and knocked. "Come in." Seeing her visitors, Dianne groaned, "Oh no, not you again. Where's the rat?" In reply, Timon poked his head out of the sling. "My God, you brought him back." "Well, I though it would be easier to keep an eye on him if I didn't let him out of my sight." "Logical," agreed the Poohbah. Tigon launched into her 'I-was-a-bad- girl' speech and returned the socks. Dianne regarded the picture of Cherri and remarked, "I wonder if I could blackmail her with this?" "Um, I'm giving a copy to each group." "Oh, well." sighed the Merc. "Um, there's something else I wanted to apologize for. The other day when Timon was...uh...visiting, I'm afraid I referred to you by the wrong title." Tigon was dreadfully embarrassed by this slip up, "I referred to you as the Merc Mommy General." The Grand High Poohbah looked amused, "It's okay...it's not like you stole my Shillelagh-of-Great-Pain." Tigon grinned, "Still, you will pass on my apologies to the Merc Mommy as well?" Dianne nodded. Back in the van, the WoofPackers huddled together. "Okay," said Becky, "That take care of the last of the 'nice' returns." "It's time to get bad," observed Maryann. With a truly maniacal laugh, Tigon whispered, "Break out the vials." ********************************************************************* Itching for Revenge by Lisa McDavid Just after the Woofpackers infest CERK with fleas Lisa whimpered at LaCroix, "You expect me to do this cold sober?" "No. I know you're going to do it. Look into my eyes, *now.* Unless, of course, you want me to tie you up for the fleas with your immune system unwhammmied?" And that was how Lisa, entirely unclothed (yes, I know this is against the Standing Orders, but it comes under "occasioned by enemy action" and I made him close his eyes), lay down in the middle of the nice, flea heaven carpet in LaCroix's living room. LaCroix himself was busy, as was Cousin Gandalf the Vampire Cat. Man and feline visited every room in the CERK building, enthusiastically inviting their vampire flea guests to a feast. Lisa McDavid just happened to have the kind of body chemistry that attracts any biting insect within a 100 mile radius, so they weren't lying. It wasn't until the vampire fleas had all taken a bite that the trap was sprung. The carpet and Lisa were black with writhing, dying fleas. Clearly the perpetrators of this dastardly dead had overlooked the discovery several wars back that Lisa has Polidori's Syndrome. This syndrome, named for its discoverer who was also Byron's doctor and the author of the first vampire story in English, is harmless to the patient, but makes the patient's blood poisonous to vampires. A couple of pints from Lisa, taken impulsively during a quarrel, had given LaCroix a terrible stomach ache. To the much smaller fleas, the blood was instantaneously fatal. Thanks to LaCroix's hypnotic talents, Lisa's post-shower and clothing body bore no wheals and did not itch, but Lisa made a mental note to get the Woofpack *good* next time! A vacuuming followed by incineration of the vacuum bags in the CERK furnace took care of the flea corpses. ********************************************************************* Sorting Luggage (1/1) by Ravens Jane Credland, Cynthia Hoffman and Catherine Siemann Date: August 7, 1996 at 2:00 p.m. "So, what are we going to do with this stuff? We can't just leave it here to gather dust." Jane poked a toe at the pile of Natpack luggage that had been sitting in a corner of one of the back rooms since Cynthia had signed for it. Cynthia shrugged. "Don't know. I expected one or more Natpackers to turn up demanding it a few days ago. Any suggestions?" "We could see if there's anything in it worth keeping." Jane eyed the suitcases doubtfully. "It is Natpack clothing, remember." Cynthia reminded. "Still it doesn't hurt to look. We might be pleasantly surprised. The two Ravens dragged the luggage out into the centre of the room, and spread them into a circle. Settling themselves in the middle, they opened each of the cases and flung the tops back so they could access the contents easily. They rummaged silently through the first case, occasionally holding up an article of clothing for scrutiny. Each piece was met with a wrinkled nose and dropped into the top of the case. "Have you two seen my book bag? I just finished this and need to get on to the next book on my list." Catherine waved a copy of The Satanic Verses at Cynthia and Jane (she was taking a little break from the Victorians to work on her censored book minor orals field). At that exact moment, Jane lifted a very floral dress with a lace collar out of the case. Catherine pointed the book at the dress, and gasped with fright. "Quelle horreur, as the Boss would say. What is it? Is it more gifts from Jane's ex-in-laws?" "A dress ... from the Natpack luggage." An evil gleam sparked in Jane's eyes. She knew exactly how to get some help with sorting through the clothing -- even better, the help would come from someone who knew what she was talkng about. "Do you think I should keep it? My closet has seemed awfully empty since you and I cleaned out the stuff I got from my ex-inlaws." "No!" Catherine tossed her book to one side and tore the dress out of Jane's hands. She jumped over the luggage and plumped herself down in between the other two Ravens. She pulled one of the cases closer, and sighed heavily. "Letting the two of you sort through clothing for usable pieces is like allowing a colour blind person to pick out a decorating scheme for your living room. Why don't you let a professional do the job properly?" The question was obviously rhetorical. Catherine dove into the task with enthusiasm. The pile of unacceptable garb grew ever larger. A few business suits were reluctantly returned whence they came. "I have never seen so many pairs of scrubs in my life. In fact, I don't think that New York Hospital has seen so many pairs of scrubs in its existence as an institution." Catherine broke into the tune of 'Little Boxes' for a moment, "There are green ones, there are pink ones, there are blue ones, there are yellow ones, and they're all made out of cotton-poly, and they all look just the same." "Cotton-poly?" Cynthia reached out and gingerly felt the fabric. "How can they stand this stuff next to their skin?" "Probably used to it by now." Jane commented. Cynthia added a few more scrub sets to the pile. "Well, I may not know a lot about fashion, but I do know about fabrics. Give me natural stuff like cotton and silk any day." Jane sifted through the pockets of the cases, retrieving a veritable pharmacopoeia of inhalers, bottles and vials. "We could open our own drugstore with this stock. I hope they've been able to get replacements for it all. Still, prescription drugs are nothing to fool with. We better get this stuff back to them." "Is this a Laura Ashley convention?" Catherine threw yet another lace-collared, floral print dress on the pile. "*Really*, darling. The occasional floral I can live with, but I feel like I'm trapped in a wallpaper shop." Cynthia started picking clothes out of the remaining cases and handing them over to Catherine. She and Jane stayed quiet and listened to Catherine's muttered running commentary as she finished emptying the luggage. "Of course, every girl *should* have a good strand of pearls, but . . . it looks like the Natpack is responsible for wiping out entire ocean floors." Catherine replaced the pearls in the jewellery case and pulled out the next object. "Stethoscopes as fashion accessory. Well, it's an *interesting* concept." "Is there anything in these suitcases that doesn't have "nice girl" written all over it?" She flung a heap of polyester camisoles with tiny lace flowers and bows over her shoulder, then squawked in surprise. "I don't believe it. Does anybody else find a t-shirt that says 'Coroners do it Better' just a tad unnerving?" "Darling, these shoes are just not . . . quite . . . " Catherine broke off in appalled silence, dangling a pair of white, high-heeled strappy sandals from one perfectly manicured finger. "I'm beginning to sense a weird conspiracy going on here. I think these are the people who dressed Janette when she was mortal." The three Ravens sat in the middle of several mostly empty suitcases, contemplating the piles of discarded outfits. "Now what? We can't send the luggage back empty." Jane said. Cynthia stood up and dusted off her hands. "I know exactly what to use to fill them. "Be back soon." Catherine turned to Jane. "You know, every single one of them has a picture of Walter Skinner in a heart-shaped frame tucked somewhere in their luggage. Do we want to *know* about their personal lives?" "Probably not." Jane smiled. "There's some garbage bags in the corner. Why don't we put the rest of this stuff in the bags while we wait for Cynthia?" A few minutes later, Cynthia returned with her arms full of dolls dressed in elaborately sewn period clothing. "These should do the trick. There's one for each Natpacker." She began to lay them carefully in the cases, occasionally holding one up for Jane and Catherine's appreciation. "This is Lucretia Borgia. She's for Sharon on account of her preoccupation with nailing Nick." "They're perfect. Where did you get them?" Jane grinned. "Back home. I had a friend of mine put them together. What about Marie Curie? Who do you think should get this one?" "I don't really think there's anyone..." Catherine took the doll from Cynthia. Cynthia picked up the next one. "You're right. That one doesn't really fit does it. Why don't we donate it with the bags of clothing." "Who's that one for?" Jane asked curiously, eying a doll with a high- piled white wig. "Marie Antoinette? She's for Jill. She seemed an appropriate appropriate choice because of all the head lopping Jill deals with when writing Highlander fanfic. And Sarah Bernhardt is for Valerie, of course." Cynthia finished packing the rest of the dolls, and they closed up the cases. A short while later, the suitcases were being taken to Natpack headquarters by Chris and MJ. At the same time, Cynthia and Jane bundled up the garbage bags and delivered them to a women's shelter a few blocks away that Jane knew of through work. The clothing was accepted eagerly and with effusive thanks by the women at the shelter, most of whom had had to leave their homes with little more than the clothes on their backs in order to escape from their abusive partners. And Catherine returned to her studies. ********************************************************************* Returning Socks (2/2) by Tigon Diana Hooker/AlphaWoof~WoofPack Wednesday/7 AUG 1996/2pm-3pm Toronto, various HQ's When Tigon had first acquired her vamppuppies, the mingling of her mortal dogs with them had brought about an unpleasant situation. Mortal dogs carry fleas and through constant contact, the immortal dogs acquired their own. Fleas are little bloodsuckers...ingest enough vampiric blood and... Well, fleas were nigh-on impossible to kill in the first place. She finally had figured out ways to kill the vampfleas infesting herself and the mortal dogs, but those methods would harm the vamppuppies. As a result, she ended up having to painstakingly pick each and every vampflea off each and every vamppuppy. Fortunately, vampfleas couldn't breed, and she could prevent new vampfleas from happening by using conventional flea dips on the vamppuppies. And in the end, she had several *large* jars of vampfleas. Steve sniffed uncertainly at one of the spray bottles. "Do we really have to spray ourselves with this?" "It's the only way to make sure we're protected," sighed Tigon. "Eeeeeew," said Becky. Maryann sniffed, "Oh, it's not that bad. I want to do the NatPack first." Natpack... Maryann carried the vial as Tigon hefted the socks with her right arm. As they were let in, she casually tilted the vial, watching at the little vampfleas sprang away from her smell and scattered out of sight. Tigon gave her sock speech and presented Cherri's picture to Jennie. By the time they left, several NatPackers, including Jennie, were itching. Die-Hards, Vaqueras, and Immortal Beloveds... Steve had helped her spread fleas at the Die-Hards, while both Maryann and Becky had assisted at the Vaqueras' large church...both places had some decidedly squirming people by the time they had left, though nobody had apparently yet connected the outbreak of itching to the sock returns. They were on their way to the Perkulators when Tigon saw a van that matched Lizbet's description. "Hold it!" Steve pulled behind the van and Tigon verified by its license plate that it was indeed the Roaming Headquarters of the Immortal Beloveds. Slipping a vial in her pocket and motioning for Steve to follow, she knocked on the vans sliding door. "Just a sec," the door slid open to reveal Felicia, head of the Immortal Beloveds. Tigon gave her speech and as Steve shoved the bag of socks into Felicia's arms, dumped the vial of fleas under the passenger seat. "Good picture," remarked Felicia as they waved good-bye. Perkulators... Becky, who at times could be dangerously perky, was the obvious choice to accompany Tigon into Perkulator HQ. As Tigon gave the sock speech and picture presentation for the last time, Becky did her very best Pollyana routine and spread fleas...going so far as to actually flick some on the oblivious Perkies. Tigon quickly bid Partly goodbye and dragged Becky out of there. They beat it back to the van and then the Mansion where they all but burned their clothes and the interior of the van, verifying that they had managed to not inadvertantly infest themselves...and waited. ********************************************************************* "Let's Not Go There" - A Writer and the Vampire Discuss the Realm of Knightie Imagination by Marcia Tucker Place: Nick's Loft Time: After " The Aliens in My Head ", Thursday, August 7--about 2 pm Marcia was pausing to check TV listings in Nick's copy of today's Globe and Mail when she felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned - and glanced up at Nick. "Oh, hi, Nick!" "Hi, yourself," he said smoothly. He dropped his hand as the Knightie turned to face him. "I wanted to ask you about something." "Yeah?" Marcia looked at his serious face in wonder. Nick didn't often single out bit-players like herself for private conversations. Was it about the Caddy? She was sure she had parked it perfectly in the garage when she'd driven it the other day. But she wasn't going to be that lucky. "Fan fiction, is what I think you call it." There was a very slight smile on his wide lips. It was a good thing Marcia wasn't holding anything or she'd have dropped it. "Yeah, that's the word." Oh, boy. "Someone told you." "I was talking to Dotti and Carrie and some others. Your name came up a few times." She threw up her hands. "Guilty. Please don't tell me you've read..." The smile widened. "Monica was good enough to share a couple things with me, yes." "Monica." Marcia was worse than flustered, she was mortified. "It would be Monica, yes. Now the question is what?" Apparently he was going to let her squirm on that one a bit. "You started the group that call themselves the Dark Knighties, didn't you?" Marcia, sensing she was in really deep doo-doo with the vampire, quickly spoke up for herself. "I laid that aside for the war, Nick! Robbi, Monica, Siona, Susan, me - a few others - but in the war we are as Plain and Straight Knightie as the rest of them! This is not a time for splintering..." Her hands had started fluttering again until he stopped them. "Marcia, Marcia, I know. Thank you." He let her go as she calmed down and he folded his arms before him, leaning back on the fireplace mantle behind him. "Carrie was explaining to me about her writing - why she does it. I'd just like to hear your take on it. Why do you write about me, Marcia?" She was far more worried about *what* the vampire had read of her stuff, but actually she was glad to have a chance to talk to him about it. "I suspect it's for many of the reasons Carrie probably told you. I like to write about how your life could be happier, healthier - because I care about you and want you to be happy. Of course my take on what constitutes a happier Nick Knight is different from some others - let's not go there, shall we?" He nodded wryly. "Sounds good to me. I know there are widely varying ideas on what I should do with my life. And I know I can't stop those. But I guess that as long as you're motivated by wishes for my happiness - I can't complain about that, can I?" "You really might not want to read, ah, some of it - like any of it..." Marcia tried to say, relaxing only a little at his words. "I happen to be cursed with a rich imagination, Nick, and I love to write." She stopped herself from adding the Schanke line - "love it, love it, love it". "So *that* is the result. I apologize for anything you might find offensive, but you have to understand..." "I'm not offended," he broke in softly. "Write what you want, Marcia. I know you're ultimately on my side. Your heart is in the right place, even if your imagination is a bit..." He actually chuckled. "What did you read?!" Marcia demanded. Monica had better look out - when she got a hold of her... "Oh, just a few short pieces - the Tracy meets LaCroix thing, 'Where There's a Will', 'I Remember', and 'A Final Fast'." "Great," she sighed, relaxing. "Relatively safe stuff. Er, except maybe for the last..." "And then Monica had this really long story that she would not let me look at. Absolutely refused to let me even look at it. She was so adamant that I didn't push it. Something about 'black velvet'." "Monica just redeemed herself," Marcia murmured. "You were never intended to read any of that stuff. I have an Olympic imagination, Nick, and I would never purposely inflict any of it on you. Trust me." Still smiling faintly, he nodded. "I do. I know you won't do anything really nasty to me, like send me off to a mental institution, or kill me or have me run away with LaCroix..." Marcia coughed. "I take the Fifth on that last one" Laughing, he reminded her, "This is Canada." "I'm American." "Ah. Well - let's not go there either, shall we?" He referred to the unfortunate LaCroix reference. "Let's not, " Marcia agreed with relief. "I might, however, have had you run away with Janette." "Ah. And again, you're just thinking about my happiness." He was still amused, she was relieved to see. "But of course, Nick." Marcia dared to smile back finally. "It's all about your happiness. Let's go *there", shall we?" He smiled his reply, but not before a very brief flash of pain went suddenly through his visage Happiness, for this vampire, wasn't so easily acquired. An hour or two spent at a computer keyboard could hardly erase or rewrite his life. He could not escape into flights of fantasy. Glancing back at his follower, he saw that she understood. She - all the Knighties - loved him and wanted to help him, even in these strange events called wars. And in their own, mortal ways, they understood his pain. Perhaps this fiction writing that some of them involved themselves in helped them bend their wills to the common quest of all Knighties - to support him. It was a good thing, a healing thing for him, and he was very glad to have them here. "Yeah," he finally spoke, the smile deepening through its distant sadness, "let's go there, shall we?" ********************************************************************* Housecleaning Location: The old church Date: 7 AUG 1996, Wednesday/2pm-3pm Time: 3:30 pm to 6:30 pm (Diane E <--- before sunset. ;)) By Torrey Harris It had taken forever to do, but, thankfully, it was now done. It did not take long for the Vaqueros to find out they had been infested with fleas, it did take a little longer for them to find out they were Vampfleas. After some careful thought, a solution had been found. As Torrey, Sherri, Crystal and the others had scrounged through the church looking for empty bottles, Vachon had offered up some of his private stock. Quickly setting out the blood filled traps, the Vaquero/as went for a walk. Returning three hours later, the now blood/vampflea filled bottles were placed in the sun. After the smoke cleared, the Vaqueros headed back into the church mumbling. "Vampfleas?...What has this war come to?" ********************************************************************* What just happened? By Laura Ruggiero When: Wednesday August 7, ~2pm-3pm, right after "Returning Socks" (2/2) Where Die-Hard HQ [Once again, I haven't heard back from any of the Die-Hards, so this is all my fault ] The Die-Hards were returning from the front gate [You don't think we'd let just anyone inside do you?] when Chuck, who was carring the sack of socks, tripped. The sack brust open as it hit the sunlit ground. The socks were flung everywhere. Suddenly several socks seemingly spontaneously combusted. Several little bursts of light appeared in the air. The Die-Hards could almost hear hundreds of tiny voices screaming in pain. "What just happened?" asked Toby. The Die-Hards just stood there and watched most of their socks go up in flame. "I may have an idea," said Laura. "Something I overheard while I was at the Fang Gang's house for the highlander party suddenly makes sense. The socks must have been infested with vampire fleas." "But was it intentional or accidental?" asked Kristine. "That's hard to say, maybe by the time the next war starts we will know for sure. Come on, still have things to do to get ready for the Grand Opening of the Museum Friday." ********************************************************************* We Kill Bugs...Dead by Jennie Hayes, Natpack Wednesday, 7 AUG 1996 about 2:30 pm directly following WAR: "Returning Socks" (2/2) Jennie looked at the little insect that her itching had embedded under her fingernail. Odd, it looked like a flea but there weren't any pets or any reason that fleas would suddenly be infesting the beachhouse. She walked over to her handy-dandy microscope and took a closer look at the insect. "Hey, Amy, come over here and look at this!" Jennie called, gesturing with one hand. Amy staggered over to the microscope. "I don't see anything, itsh all black!" she complained. "Well, it's a flea, but not like any flea I've ever seen before," Jennie replied with a sigh, "and given that the Woofpack just left..." "Oh, I see...no wait, I don't see, it's all black," Amy replied confusedly, taking another sip of her drink. "Don't worry about it, Amy," Jennie answered in a resigned tone. Then she raised her voice to full scare-a-crowd-at-a-football-game volume. "HEY! WE GOT A PROBLEM! SOMEBODY GET SOME FLEA POWDER AND LITOVEUTERINE, PLEASE!" A faint, puzzled voice came from another room. "Flea powder and litoveuterine? Is this another symptom of whatever made her orange?" But the speaker found the flea powder on a shelf and made her way over to Jennie just to see what she was up to. Someone else appeared with some of the litoveuterine stash that the Natpack had taken time to acquire just in case after Nat's little...uh...accident. "What are they for?" Amy inquired rather unsteadily. "Vampire fleas," Jennie replied quickly as she carefully mixed the two and tested them out on the hapless beast that had been caught by her fingernail. The critter didn't last thirty seconds. "OK, now to de- flea the entire house!" she crowed. *****fin***** (sorry, didn't have time for much more than this!) ********************************************************************* Appearances Can Be Deceiving (1/2) by Raven Jane Credland Date: Wednesday, August 7, 1996 from 4:00 p.m. onwards Permission obtained from all participants Time: 4:00 p.m. Place: Merc HQ Lane Lombardia read the note for the third time. It was written in elaborate calligraphy on heavy parchment paper, and contained an invitation to discuss a potential job over a drink that evening at 7:00 p.m. at the Raven. He wavered backwards and forwards for a short time, but curiosity won out, and he decided to accept the invitation. Besides, a job was a job. *** Date: Wednesday, August 7, 1996 at 7:00 p.m. Place: The Raven "Let me do that." Jane pushed Miklos to one side and took the jug out of his hand. "This one's special." Miklos watched her expertly manoeuvre the cappuccino machine. When the milk was heated to the right temperature, she pulled a small packet out of her pocket and carefully sprinkled the right amount of a fine white powder into the jug. The steaming milk went in next, instantly dissolving the powder. The vampire looked back at the man who had ordered the cafe latte. "He's the one you were talking about?" "Yes." Jane poured the milk into the bowl-like cup on top of the espresso -- a smaller amount of powder had gone into the coffee. "Perfect. Now to deliver it personally." "Good luck." "Thanks." She threw over her shoulder as she headed over to the table with the coffee and a diet coke for herself. "Cafe latte?" Lane nodded and continued scanning the club. The only person he definitely recognized was Raven Catherine, who was sitting at a nearby table. She was holding hands with a long-haired goth boy dressed in a kilt -- definitely not a threat. There were a couple of others he thought might be Raven/ettes sitting at the bar, but he wasn't sure. "May I sit down?" Jane didn't wait for an answer. She just pulled out a chair. She studied him briefly, noting the short dark brown hair, very dark brown eyes, dark olive skin and slim build. The comfortable T-shirt fit the description of his usual clothing. Restraining herself from ducking under the table to check the rest, she asked, "Lane Lombardia?" "Yes." Lane brought his attention back to the waitress instantly. He hadn't seen her before, but instinct told him that this was his potential employer; and he trusted his instincts. He sipped his cafe latte and laid the invitation on the table. "You sent me this?" "I need ... something special done. You fit my requirements perfectly." Jane hid her nervousness behind a blank face as Lane continued to drink his coffee. "Actually, you were recommended as the *perfect* merc for the job. I understand you know martial arts and can handle yourself in a ... a difficult situation." A mercenary job that required martial arts training. Lane's curiosity was piqued, and his ego boosted a little higher than usual. He sipped his drink again -- it was very good -- then indicated agreement with a motion of his head and waited for her to continue, retaining the cool appearance that was a necessity of being a merc and one of his special abilities. Jane glanced over at the bar. "You see, there's something I've always wanted to own, but it's very difficult to get to. There are always people around and the ... the owner would never just let me have it." Stifling a yawn, the mercenary took a longer drink -- this was not the time to fall asleep. "Why don't you tell me what it is and where it's being kept?" "It's at Nick's loft, on the mantel." Jane snuck a peek at Lane's coffee (he was almost finished). She started a rambling description of the loft, complaining mightily about Knighties who never left the place unoccupied, and noted with satisfaction that the mercenary's eyes were starting to look heavy. Lane drained the last of the liquid from his bowl, and was unable to stop a huge yawn from exploding. The realization finally seeped through his foggy brain that he'd been drugged. //What the... No-one attacked mercenaries. Did they?// Fighting unconsciousness, he hauled himself upright and managed to make it to Catherine's table. He careened against the table, almost pressing his face against her's, and whispered, "Help me. I've been drugged." Catherine looked at Lane with disinterest mingled with a hint of satisfaction, then shoved the merc to one side. She took her companion's hand. They both rose to leave. "Sorry, Lane. I'm busy right now. Mark and I have plans. Send me some e-mail sometime and maybe we'll talk." She and Mark wandered over to the dance floor, hand in hand, slipped into each other's arms and began a slow dance. Lane stared after her in shock. Moments later, he crashed to the floor as the drug in his system finally won the battle. Lana (the unaffiliated) Soward and Raven Cynthia Hoffman hurried over from the bar and helped Jane pull him to his feet. Cynthia waved away the concerned patrons. "Just someone who's had a little bit too much. We'll take care of it." Two of them holding his legs and the third his arms, they managed to get him into the backroom, where everything had been laid out in anticipation of this very moment. "Ladies." Glee lit Jane's eyes. "Shall we?" "Let's." Lana started unbuckling Lane's belt. "Absolutely." Cynthia pulled off his dock shoes and threw them into a corner. "This is going to be fun." ********************************************************************* An Invitation to a Grand Opening by: Laura Ruggiero (Die-Hard) Date: Wednesday August 7, 1996, afternoon Laura looked around the museum. All was now ready for the grand opening Saturday. The final inspections had taken place that morning. All the arragments for the party were made. Ron, however, was still sleeping. *How does one wake up a vampire who has been asleep for almost a week? Very carefully I guess,* she thought. She looked at invitation again, it read: You are invited to the GRAND OPENING of the The Forever Knight Museum Saturday, August 10, 1996 Sunset to Sunrise At the Die-Hard HQ (the old studios) Food and Drink will be provided For more information please contact: Laura Ruggiero (larug@siu.edu) or call: 555-1228 *The invitations had been sent out Tuesday, so all the affiliations should have received them today at their headquarters , Nick and other locals at their homes, and even one to the hospital for Diane E (in case she recovers in time),* she thought. I hope they come. I wouldn't want the Grand Opening to be a bust. ********************************************************************* WAYS TO BE WICKED (01/01) by Bonnie Pardoe (Vaquero, still? - I hope), with thanks to Lisa Prince, and special thanks to Torrey Harris for being such a good sport! (immediately following "The Kidnapping of Bonnie") Wednesday, August 7th, ~ 6pm Vachon's Church ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Bonnie sat in the gutter where the Mercs had unceremoniously dumped her. "You could have at least stopped, you idiots!!!" she hollered after the quickly disappearing van. "What are you trying to do, kill me?!" she continued. Her shouts alerted the Vaqueros who were currently on broom duty and brought them running to her side. "Bonnie?" "What happened?" "We've been out looking for you all day." "We were so worried when you didn't come home from the Raven!" "My gosh! What happened?" The adrenaline was quickly wearing off, and Bonnie was beginning to tremble from hunger and exhaustion. The Vaqueros helped her inside the church and then called for Torrey and Vachon. The two came running. "Bonnie, thank goodness you're okay!" Torrey said as she sat down next to the girl. "You are okay, aren't you?" Vachon asked when he noticed the scrapes on her bare knees and the small rents in her dress. Bonnie nodded. Torrey asked the other Vaqueros to give them a bit of privacy, then she turned back to the disheveled girl. "What happened?" "I was kidnapped...," Bonnie was not sure she should be telling this to anyone, "... by the Mercs." "What?!" Torrey was furious. "Why would they kidnap you? -- we didn't even get a ransom note." "They thought that I was the one who hired Lisa to cut Vachon's hair." "Why would they think such a ludicrous thing?" Bonnie hung her head. "Because it's true." She did not want to see the looks on their faces at that moment, especially Vachon's. Torrey grew even more enraged. \\One of my own! How could she?!\\ but she was too angry to speak. "Bonnie?" Vachon put his hand under her chin and forced her brown eyes to meet his. "Why would you do that to me?" He held her gaze, waiting for her to answer. Bonnie became lost in Vachon's deep brown eyes, and the question he had asked did not register in her mind for more than a minute. "I, um, didn't intend for her to hurt you. I asked Torrey if I could cut your hair and she said no, but it badly needed a trim; there didn't seem to be any other alternative." Vachon still held her chin and would not let her look away, so Bonnie continued to explain. "Besides, I was only trying to be a *good* Vaquero." Torrey turned suddenly and glared at the traitor. \\A good Vaquero would never have done such a despicable thing,\\ but she was still too livid to vocalize the thought. "I don't understand how this would make you a 'good Vaquero.'" After almost 500 years of existence, Vachon had the patience of a sai-- well, you know. He released her chin and she hung her head slightly as she explained, "I was just following *The Top Ten Reasons To Become A Vaquero,* which Torrey herself wrote." Vachon had not heard about this top ten list and still did not understand, so Bonnie spelled it out for him. "Reason #10 - You get to play with Vachon's hair." Despite his best efforts, this produced a small smile from Vachon. "Reason #9 - You have access to the Raven, and I did get a job there to get you blood." He pursed his lower lip and the smile settled in. "Reason #8 - You don't have to be nice...." "Reason #7 - You don't have to be nasty," Torrey managed to mumble without losing control. Bonnie took a quick breath and then continued, "Reason #6 - You get to glue Cousins into cow costumes. Well, I didn't get to do this, but I got to make a web page in honor of it." He remembered her handy-work and a small giggle escaped his lips. "Reason #5 - No one is ever sure what you are going to do." The tail-end of a snicker followed the giggle. "Reason #4 - You get to see Vachon come out of the shower...." Do vampires blush? "... And I did get a shower built-in here at the church. Reason #3 - Vachon in general," Bonnie thought that she heard Vachon trying to smother laughter, but she was still afraid to look at him. "Reason #2 - Improved sleeping conditions at the church, and that couch in the basement has been mighty comfy." Vachon was gasping for breath at this point. "And, Reason #1 - Because you can." With that last line, Vachon fell to the floor, clutching his stomach from the pain of laughing so hard. Torrey stood stunned, glancing back and forth between the hysterical vampire and the rogue Vaquero. She simply turned and walked away, straight into the wall where she began pounding her head repeatedly against it. ********************************************************************* OUT IN THE COLD (01/01) by Bonnie Pardoe (former Vaquero) (follows "Ways To Be Wicked" and before "A Fall From Grace") Wednesday, August 7th, ~6:30 pm outside Vachon's church ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Bonnie stood outside the gates of the church as Torrey marched through the geese and back into the church. As her former-leader slammed closed the heavy front door, a tear trickled down Bonnie's cheek. She still could not believe that Torrey had actually thrown her out. \\After everything I've done for them. I worked so hard for them since we got to Toronto.\\ She had expected to be punished for her transgression, but this seemed so extreme. She was truly disappointed that Torrey could not take a joke -- after all it had just been a haircut and his hair had already grown back. \\It wasn't like I dressed him in Spandex or in that cow costume!\\ Bonnie thought back to the events which had lead to her current state of exile. She had confessed, of her own free-will, to hiring the Merc to cut Vachon's hair. When she explained her motives, Vachon had thankfully seen the humor in the situation; unfortunately, Torrey saw nothing funny in what Bonnie had done. She had yelled and hollered, goading Vachon, until he, too, became angry -- so angry that he did not even try to stop Torrey when she escorted Bonnie out. Tears flowed uninhibited down Bonnie's cheeks. She would have done anything for Torrey and the Vaqueros, and she would never again feel about anyone the way she felt about Vachon. She took one last look at the church, then turned and gazed down the long, empty street ahead of her. "Where shall I go? What shall I do?" \\And why do I sound like Scarlett O'Hara at the end of 'Gone With The Wind'? Because, frankly, my dear, the Vaqueros no longer give a damn about you.\\ Bonnie picked up her tote bag and began walking. She intended to just keep walking -- all the way back to California -- but then, for some reason, she thought of Urs. \\She's got that nice, new apartment, now. Urs will take me in!\\ Bonnie picked up her pace and headed across town to see her friend. ********************************************************************* A Fall From Grace By: Torrey Harris VAQ Time: 7:00pm Date: 8-7 The Church was deathly quiet, except for the noise coming from behind the choir room door. Torrey and Vachon had been in there for what seemed like hours. The Vaqueros sat quietly around the pews. "What are they doing in there?" Shannon asked Sherri in a whisper, just as something breakable hit the other side of the door. Sherri shook her head. " Most of you weren't here for the last war...but Vachon was not that hot on the idea of having the Vaqueros here. Torrey convinced him that he needed us to keep the other affiliations away from him during war time. She told him we were here to help him." Sherri sighed. " Now he finds out that she let someone into his church to do harm to him...well.....let's just say we lost a little ground." "What about Bonnie?" Someone asked. "I guess that is up to her, she is going to have a hard time getting out of this one. Torrey did the only thing she could." Sherri answered with a sigh. The yelling in the other room reached a all time high. "He won't hurt her will he?" Shannon asked. "No." Sherri answered " They will stay in there and yell themselves silly, they will get over it." Sherri was just glad Torrey was yelling now. Chills run up her spine as she remembered the scene that had happened earlier. Torrey had come out and calmly walked down to Vachon's room packed all of Bonnie's things and escorted her outside of the gate. She had told Bonnie that for abusing the trust and protection of the Vaqueros, and for putting her own personal agenda ahead of the faction she was to protect, she must leave. Then she had calmly turned her back and walked back into the church where the other Vaqueros scattered. Vachon was standing in the doorway of the Choir room looking at her. "I trusted you." Was all he said. Then turned and walked back into the room. ********************************************************************* Even Vaqueros Angst by Suze Campagna (Knightie) and Bonnie Pardoe (former Vaquero) with thanks to Sandra Gray and Amy Rambow (Knighties) Wednesday, August 7th, ~ 7pm Nick's loft and downtown Toronto ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Suze had just been hanging around the loft all day. She was bored and feeling needlessly antsy, so she decided to go out for a walk. As she headed for the elevator her friend Kathy spotted her. "Suze, where do you think you're going?" There was true concern in Kathy's voice. "I was just going out to get some air," Suze shrugged as she stepped into the elevator. "Alone? I don't think that's such a good idea; there are Cousins out there you know." "Ah, yes. This is true," Suze said out loud thinking about their recent (mis)adventures with Karies and Leslie. "Okay -- do you want to come with me then?" Kathy smiled at her friend and stepped onto the elevator ~~~~~ The two Knighties had been wandering about the city for near-on an hour when Suze noticed a dark-haired woman standing on a corner with a tote bag in her hand. There was something familiar about the woman, but.... Suze shook off the feeling as she and Kathy crossed the street. It was then that Suze got a clear view of the woman's face. "Bonnie? Bonnie! I didn't recognize you at first -- you cut your hair." Bonnie smiled and nodded. "Suze, it's great to see you here," Bonnie sounded extremely tired and Suze noticed, she also noticed her luggage. "Bonnie? What's wrong?" Suze put a comforting hand on her friend's shoulder. "Are you okay?" Bonnie briefly explained that she had been throw out of the church because she had hired a merc to cut Vachon's hair. "I can't really blame Torrey for kicking me out. It was my own doing, and she had every right to exile me." Kathy stared at Bonnie as if she were crazy. "Why *did* you do it?" Bonnie looked from the stranger to Suze and back again. "I'm sorry. I'm Kathy." Kathy extended her hand to Bonnie, who had to shift her tote bag to her other hand in order to recipricate. "I'm a Knightie just like Suze." "Pleased to meet you," Bonnie replied. "As to why I wanted to cut Vachon's hair, well, um, actually, I'm not quite sure why I did it. It's just that his hair was starting to look so... ratty. And if you know Vachon, you know that he's not one to think about that sort of thing. But I hated hearing people make nasty comments about his hair behind his back, so I did the only thing I could think of." "Wow! You really like playing fast and loose with your life, don't you?" Suze was staring wide-eyed at her friend. Bonnie shrugged. "It just got out of hand. I didn't realize the Merc was going to drug him. I just wanted her to give him a nice little trim, but she kinda hacked at it and then put all this glop in it. Luckily, she dumped him at the Raven and I was the one who found him. I got him home before anyone one saw him. Unfortunately, the Vaqueros saw him. They wanted blood. How could I tell them that I was the one responsible? I feel so awful about the whole thing." Suze put a comforting arm around Bonnie's shoulder. "So, do you have a place to stay?" "No, not really. I was going to see if maybe I could bunk with Urs..." her voice trailed off and she shrugged. "I do have to report to the Raven in a couple of hours for work though." "Hey, that's where I recognized you from!" Kathy was pleased that she had finally remembered. "But you really can't go to work dressed like that!" Kathy pointed out the tears in Bonnie's dress, the blood on her knees, and the dirt streaks on most of her exposed skin. "You look like you were thrown off a speeding train. What happened?" "Actually, I was thrown out of a speeding van." The Knighties both raised their eyebrows at her very casual correction. Bonnie nodded and explained, "The Merc I hired kidnapped me, got me to confess, then tried to convince me to become a mercenary." The Knighties' eyebrows shot higher, as Bonnie continued. "When I refused to renounce my Vaquero-hood, she dumped me back at the church. That's how Torrey and Vachon found out about what I had done." "Come on, Bonnie," Suze took her friend's hand. Let's catch a taxi and get you back to the church. I'm sure Nick will let you use the shower and we can get you something to eat before you have to go to work." Bonnie nodded and allowed Suze and Kathy to lead her off. So, the three returned to the loft, the Knighties trying their best to reassure Bonnie and to cheer her up. As they stepped off the elevator, Bonnie hesitated, looking more than a bit nervous . "Don't worry, we don't bite," Suze said. "Well, most of us don't anyway," Kathy finished. Bonnie gave the Knighties a small but sincere smile, glad that not everyone in the world hated her for what she had so wrongly done. ~~~~ Most of the Knighties did not even notice the trio enter the loft. Suze scanned the room for one of their fearless leaders. She quickly spotted Catherine and Perri sitting on the couch playing with the super-duper-controls-everything remote. The three went over to them and Suze explained Bonnie's predicamnet. "I just couldn't leave her out on the street. Could she stay with us for a bit?" "Sure," Cath generously agreed. "There's plenty of room." Well... may not *plenty*, but I think we can squeeze you in somewhere." Perri added. "Actually, I need to be at work at 10pm. Would you mind if I borrowed the shower?" Bonnie was embarrassed to ask for more hospitality, but Cath smiled warmly and told her to make herself at home. Suze then grabbed the attention of the Knighties present and said, "This is my friend Bonnie Pardoe and she's going to be staying with us for a while." The Knighties were happy to have her and all waved a greeting. Sandra Gray got up and walked over to their new guest. "Hi, Bonnie. It's nice to have you here. I'm Sandra Gray. Need any help or anything?." "Directions to the bathroom?" said Bonnie. Sandra gave her directions, and Bonnie headed off to take a much needed shower. ********************************************************************* Appearances Can Be Deceiving (2/2) by Raven Jane Credland Date: Wednesday, August 7, 1996 from about 7:30 p.m. onwards Follows directly after Appearances Can Be Deceiving (1/2) Permission obtained from all participants With amazing speed, Lane Lombardia had been stripped of all his clothing. Well, everything but his underwear -- even these three conspirators had their limits. A few weapons hidden on his body were placed carefully on top of his clothes. They checked him over again. There was absolutely no place where he could hide anything more. Well, there was one that drug smugglers often used, but none of them were willing to check there. "Okay, time to get him ready for the rest of his evening." Cynthia wiped his face clean, getting ready to apply the make-up. "How long do we have before the drug wears off?" "About ten more minutes." Lana started to put the silver star- spangled stockings on him. "Then we have to use the other one." Nine and a half minutes later, they stood back and admired their handiwork. Pink and silver temporary hair dye had been sprayed in swirling patterns in Lane's hair. Matching pink and blue eye shadow highlighted his eyes, with shell-pink lipstick on his mouth. Silver low-heeled pumps went well with the stockings, but the piece de resistance was the dress. Worthy of no-one less than Glinda the Good Witch, it was a full-length pale pink taffeta creation, with a net overskirt. Silver stars and moons adorned the bell skirt and edged the plunging neckline. A huge pink bow puffed out in back at the waist. "Catherine's right." Jane commented. "He does have good cheekbones. Still, it takes more than cheekbones...." "Is that everything?" Lana asked, ignoring Jane. "Not quite. We forgot these." Cynthia held a rhinestone tiara and silver wand in her hands. Their victim groaned suddenly and put a shaking hand to his head. Before he could open his eyes, Jane was at his side, plying him with a glass of water laced with a drug that her source had guaranteed would cause hallucinations but not interact with the first one. "Here drink this. It will make you feel better." Still under the influence of the first drug, Lane drank the contents of the glass without hesitation. It only took a few seconds for the second one to take effect. His eyes opened widely. They were glazed, and the pupils were dilated. He slurred ever so slightly when he spoke. "Those mine?" Cynthia looked at the items in her hand. "Yes. You asked me to hold them for you. Remember?" "Sure. I 'member." Lane fixed the tiara a little crookedly in his hair, and waved the wand. He giggled. "Spell 'R Us. You choose 'em, we zap 'em." "Hey, you're good." Jane said encouragingly. "Shall we go out and test your magic on a few people?" Lane got unsteadily to his feet, waving off the offers of assistance. He weaved his way back into the club. A stunned silence met his entrance. The music crashed to a halt and all conversation disappeared. Then, it gradually resumed. This was war time after all. Strange sights were the rule these days, rather than the exception. However, this one was definitely odder than most. Oblivious to the numerous covert glances directed at him, the rather pinkly dressed mercenary danced around the tables. Periodically, he would rise up on his tiptoes, mumble nonsense syllables and rap someone on the head with his wand. The three women who followed him at a safe distance held their breath, but no-one did more than curse or shake a clenched fist at him. It was as if everyone in the club was afraid to tangle with the obviously deranged Lane. Until he reached a table near the front of the bar, that is. The two gentlemen sitting at that table had been the subject of numerous whispered conversations from the time they entered the Raven. The resemblance of one of them to a certain former owner of the club was startling. The familiar cadences of his voice had left Cousins Toni and Angela, who were perched on bar stools nearby, completely mesmerized. Drs. Nigel and Adrian Wetmore had been observing Lane's bizarre behaviour from the moment he came out from the back room. Adrian had made several notations in his little black book, and Nigel had had to physically restrain him from getting up to follow the subject around the room. Nigel caught Lane's wand just before it hit him on the head. "Are you okay?" "I'm fine. Just fine." Lane giggled again. "Jus' giving people a lil magical good luck." "Good luck." Adrian said expressionlessly. "You are able to work magic?" "Course. I'm a good witch and that's what good witches do.." Lane's face was completely serious. Adrian caught sight of the women as they followed behind Lane. The psychiatrist recognized Jane and Lana instantly and beckoned them towards him. Exchanging concerned glances -- this had not been planned -- Jane and Lana moved cautiously forward. Lana spoke first. "Hullo, Dr. Wetmore. Didn't expect to see you here." "I'm sure you didn't." Adrian spoke sternly. "Another role-playing game has gotten out of hand, hasn't it?" Jumping on the opportunity, Jane rushed in. "Ummm... yes. We thought we could keep him under control, but he thinks he's Glinda the Good Witch --you know, the one from the Wizard of Oz -- and insists that he can make the whole world a happier place by hitting everyone with his magic wand. We don't know what to do." "Who is he?" Adrian asked. Lana crossed her fingers behind her back. "We're not sure. He's not with either of our groups, and there's no identification anywhere on him. We were hoping to keep him contained while we tried to find out." "Why don't you leave him to me?" Adrian slipped his notebook into his breast pocket. "I'll take him back to the centre with me, and try to help him come to his senses while you locate someone who knows him." Jane suppressed a smile. It could take them a couple of days to let the mercs know exactly what had happened to their missing guild member. "Oh, would you? That would be wonderful. We're just not equipped to deal with his problems here." "It would be my pleasure." Adrian took Lane by one arm. "Nigel. Shall we?" "Of course, Adrian." Nigel took the other arm. The two doctors spoke soothingly to the bemused mercenary and coaxed him out the door. Adrian sat in the back of the car with Lane the entire way to the Queen Street Mental Health Centre. Once there, he raced him through the admittance procedures and, in no time at all, John Doe #157 was registered as a patient. Unfortunately, there wasn't enough personnel to clean him up, and only one bed available. So, still dressed in his good witch outfit, Lane was ushered unceremoniously into a private room, complete with one way mirror for observation. Adrian and Nigel made themselves comfortable on the other side of the mirror and settled in for a long night. Lane sat on the edge of his bed, clutching his wand and looking around in confusion. The drug was finally wearing off, leaving him with a pounding headache and a furry tongue. The last thing he remembered was drinking cafe latte at the Raven with... with... a blonde woman. What was her name? "I'll get her. No-one attacks a merc. The Grand High Poohbah will have something to say about this." Lane spoke aloud. "There has to be something in the guild charter about this." Adrian and Nigel looked at each other. This case was going to be interesting. Maybe there would even be a book in it. ********************************************************************* FEATHERS 1/1 By: Torrey Harris VAQ Time: 7:30pm after A Fall From Grace Date: 8-7 ************************************** The Vaqueros were still waiting to see who survived the screaming match in the choir room between Torrey and Vachon. The sound of their argument had died down and now all was quite. The Vaqueros were worried...at least the yelling let them know that both combatants were OK. "That's it!" Jay said getting up and walking to the door. "I am going to see if they are OK or not." Jay threw the door open and stared into the room in open mouthed shock. The other Vaqueros noticing his shock ran to the door way. "What it is!" They all yelled at the same time.. Looking in the group gave a collective gasp.....soon to be followed by a soft giggle that could only to have come from Cindy. Torrey and Vachon stood facing each other panting, glaring, and covered in feathers. Sherri marched into the room surveying the damage. The place was a mess. A broken lamp sat on the floor, the chairs were all flipped over, and papers were scattered across the room. On top of that the hole place as covered in a layer of feathers. As Sherri watched Torrey spit a feather out of her mouth and Vachon tried to blink the feathers out of his eyelashes. "What the hell is going on here?" Sherri demanded in her best listen or die voice. Torrey and Vachon both turned and looked at her with dazed expressions. They looked back at each other, then burst out laughing. Vachon looked down at his hand noticing he was still holding the pillow that had exploded when it got caught on the candle holder. "WELL!" Sherri said through clenched teeth. Slowly the whole story came out. They had started to fight about the Bonnie thing, Vachon accused Torrey of tricking him. Torrey had lost her temper and thrown the lamp at him. From what the Vaqueros could piece together somewhere along the line the argument had shifted to a bizarre mixture of name calling and pillow throwing. By the end of the argument it was obvious that neither one of them remember what they were fighting about. After the group had stopped laughing Vachon left the room smiling, and still trying to shake the feathers out of his hair. Torrey and Sherri went to work trying to clean up the mess. "Torrey?" Sherri asked in a serious tone. "What happens now with Bonnie?" Torrey sat back and looked at Sherri. "I don't know." She answered in a quiet voice. "I guess she has to find a way to earn our trust again." "You OK with this?" Sherri asked looking Torrey over. "No." Torrey said in a sad voice. "I'm going to miss her." ********************************************************************* There's a rational expanation for everything Wednesday, August 7, 1996 about 10pm Immediately follows Jane Credland's _Appearances_Can_Be_Deceiving_ (1 and 2) by Lane Lombardia and Lana G. Soward Adrian Wetmore was smiling to himself, both curious as to the sudden batch of bizarre behavior being observed in various persons visiting Toronto, and a group of Toronto residents that seemed to be associated with them. Practically salivating at the paper he could write for Lancet, and eager to see how the sum of all these peculiar cases fit together, he watched intently throught the one way mirror of the observation room. Lane's temper was notorious, and he was practically seething. This produced two effects: it accelerated his already ludicrously quick metabolism, and made the headache he was developing all the more acute. Eventually, pain won out. The pounding in his sinuses and temples, accompanied by a building sense of nausea was rapidly shutting him down. If he had possessed enough sense to think rationally about it, he would have sat on the floor, putting his head between his knees and concentrated on breathing slowly to calm himself. That, however, was not the case with the tempermental mercenary. Clutching at his head, in agony, he barely managed to turn his head before the nausea won out over everything. While the two drugs that he had been given hod no interaction between themselves, both interacted rather unpleasantly with the active ingredients in common, over the counter, decongestants such as sudafed. The end result was that Lane, quite literally, lost his lunch. Adrian Wetmore was quite concerned, since this was not behavior consistent with the profile he was developing in his own mind. The people he had been observing had shown no inclination to be violently ill. This was, at least potentially, a patient, and obviously one in need of help. The only question was whether the help needed was psychological or toxicological. As the holding room where Lane was being held was opened and Adrian Wetmore entered, Lane looked up, eyes reddened and tearing. "Sorry about that," he croaked. "Something must have disagreed with me pretty badly." Lane started to shiver. Sensing that more was afoot than had originally met his eyes, he had Lane provide him with a urine sample. As fate would have it (it's my storry so leave it alone, ok?) the test equipment in the hospital lab had been running tests for very similar compounds as had been implemented against the mercenary. When the tests came back, it was apparent that somehow, some pharmacist had accidentally filled a prescription for hismanal (an antihistamine which does not promote drowsiness) with a powerful hypnotic, instead. Since, however, the hypnotic itself, was not illegal, and there was no evidence to suggest that the mercenary had voluntarily sought out the drug, which would then make him a criminal, the only question was whether the hallucinatory behavior he had witnessed was merely caused by the chemicals interacting violently with his system, or if there was some manner of derangement present. "So, Mr. Lombardia, what do you do for a living?" "I'm the Systems Administrator for a Marketing and Design firm." "...and what is your business in Canada?" "I'm here helping some friends get their business venture going. They sell chocolates and roses... Doctors, if you wish, feel free to call my therapist. He can probably provide you with conderably greater information, in greater detail, than I can." Looking down at his dreadfully pink ensemble, he looked up with as politely pleading look as he could muster. "Could I also get something else to wear? I don't know where this came from, and it doesn't really suit me." He smiled limply, as that was all he could manage. After some calls to the states, including to Lane's own therapist, it was determined that there was no precedence for the behavior the mercenary had exhibited, and that the chemicals found in the lab test were the only available explanation. Dianne, the GHP of the Mercenary Guild was willing to agree to watch over Lane for any bizarre behavior. With just a bit of trepidation, but considering the evidence that the anomolous behavior was artificially induced, and the considerable assurances by Dianne that Lane would be monitored, Adrian Wetmore released him into the custody of one of his fellow mercenaries. ********************************************************************* End War 7 File 9 *********************************************************************