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