********************************************************************* War 7 File 10 ********************************************************************* Little Bloodsuckers (1/1) by Tigon Diana Hooker/AlphaWoof~WoofPack Thursday/8 AUG 1996/12:30am Toronto, FG Mansion Tigon yawned and glanced at a clock. "It's my mother's birthday," she observed. "I should be home celebrating with her." Glancing up from where he was sprawled on a couch, Steve asked, "How much longer before they notice?" Becky said logically, "Well, fleas happen. They may not realize how *special* those fleas are." "Aw, c'mon," objected Steve, "Vampflea bites itch ten times worse than normal bites. Not to mention that the bites actually bother vampires." "Still," reiterated Becky, seemingly content to lie with her head pillowed on Scruffy forever, "It could be a while before they figure it out." "Which is why," Tigon annouced, "We're going to tell them." "What???" came the duel response. "Seriously," replied the AlphaWoof, "They know about vampires, it won't take them too long to figure it out. We have a responsibility to make sure they don't do the *wrong* things to get rid of them." Becky and Steve nodded thoughtfully, but Steve asked, "Won't that be like tacking a note to the front door saying 'Please attack us now?'" Tigon rose from her cross-legged position and went to get a paper and pen. Handing them to Becky, she commented, "Oh, yes...it'll definitely be open season on us. Which is why we're retreating to our Headquarters." Becky stared at Steve, who nodded his head as if to say...*you* ask. "Um, I thought we *were* at our headquarters." "Nope, this is the FangGang safe house. I'm talking about the WoofPack's Secret Headquarters." This time Steve asked, "Um, we have a secret headquarters?" Tigon blinked at the question she had already answered. "Ah, we didn't know we had a secret headquarters." Tigon grinned, "Of course not...then it wouldn't have been a secret." Then she dictated a letter to Becky. An hour later they were gone without a trace...and five affiliations received a copy of the following by special delivery. "Noswaith dda, Your headquarters and members have been infested with vampire fleas. While we're sure you want to solve this situation on your own, we feel that we should point out certain possible hazards. 1. Anything that can kill a vampire flea will probably seriously harm any vampires that the flea might be infesting. 2. While it's obvious that the fleas will combust in the sun...a warning. Enough of the fleas combusting at once *can* combust the person or object the fleas are infesting. The same holds true for most other vampiric remedies. 3. Fleas sprays and whatnot will have no effect, so don't destroy the ozone any more than it already is. A bright not, vampfleas don't breed. Have fun...we did! The WoofPack" ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ Welsh translation: Noswaith dda-"Good evening" ********************************************************************* One Good Ring Wednesday, 8/8, 8:30 AM by Susan M. Garrett The Raven was relatively quiet. With vampires and mortals on overlapping schedules, if the club wasn't filled with patrons, someone always seemed to be scrubbing, or sweeping, or tuning, or drinking (gotta test the merchandise, after all). Susan hadn't had a chance to get back to the Knighties about when the Caddie would be available for a wash. Of course, then they'd come to the Raven. And she really have said something then . . . . She hated that damned car. But getting last minute details over the phone--absolutely details--seemed the thing to do at the time. Which is why she'd waited until it was almost quiet, Janette was in a day-coma, and she guessed there be some Knighties present at the loft. The phone rang twice before it was picked up. "Does Nick have a hose, or what?" Susan asked, laptop open on the bar counter beside her. "Huummina, huh?" asked a muffled and sleepy yawn. Squinting at the spreadsheet of 'stuff to buy to wash that darn-puke- green-thing'--yep, right list--Susan didn't bother trying to identify the voice at the other end. Although she really need to talk to Perri or Boo. The Knighties weren't like the NatPack, who were somehow part of some spooky gestalt. If you told one NatPacker something, all the other NatPackers knew instantly. It should have saved them a fortune on phone bills. But, being NatPackers they talked anyway, so it wasn't much good except for weirding out other affiliations. With a sigh, Susan asked, "Can I speak to Perri or Boo, please?" "Grmuph. Mumble. Grumble. Shit!" There was a bang as the phone hit the floor--the last comment ringing faintly in the receiver and accompanied by several outraged cries, the loudest of which might have been the person the phone had been dropped onto. "Yeah--what--hello?" said Perri. Bingo. "Does Nick have a hose, or what?" repeated Susan. There was a pause. One of those longish pauses, where the person on the other end either is trying to figure out what language you're speaking, suspects you have a wrong number, or is frantically trying to hush a conversation going on about the caller. Susan guessed it was either number one or number two. Which was only natural. "Is this an obscene phone call?" asked Perri, somewhat harshly. "Because I am amused by dirty talk about Nick--" Susan paused before answering, hearing a distant "That's not what you said last--ow!" and "Oooh, me! Pick me! I wanna talk!" somewhere behind Perri. Sighing, Susan waited until the roar had died down. "Look," she said slowly. "It's an easy question. Garden hose. Tap hose. Support hose . .. hell, kind of hose. Does Nick have one? I need it to wash the car. No hose. No washing the car. Simple as that." "Oh, it's Susan," said Perri. There was a muffled response as Perri obviously tried to place her hand over the receiver and said to those around her. "It's Susan. At the Raven." "Why does Susan want to talk dirty about Nick?" asked a voice in the background. There was the sound of a 'thump,' followed by Perri explaining, "Susan needs to know if Nick has a hose." "Well, we've seen him in tights in a couple of flashbacks--" "Not kind of hose. She needs a hose to wash the Caddie," explained Perri. "Is she going to wash it here, then?" asked someone. Another pause. Susan had been playing asteroid on her laptop. But instead of mines, there were little tiny Caddies hidden behind the dots. She was losing. Badly. "You're planning on washing it here?" asked Perri, returning to the call. "Um . . . I was. I figured if the car was there, why move it? I'll haul my stuff over, give it a wash, and then everything's even on a karmic scale. At least where that damn car is concerned. Just need to know when and where it is and if Nick had a hose." Susan took a hopeful breath as another small Caddie exploded in her asteroid game. "Unless it's a real inconvenience. We leave it until next war . . . ." "No, no, that's okay," said Perri quickly. "But we'll get back to you with a place and time. Okay?" "I guess. You have custody, after all." "Okay, then. We'll be in touch." Susan hung up the phone, stuck her tongue out at the Caddie that had just exploded on her laptop screen, then switched to her Excel spreadsheet. It was only at that point that she realized that she'd never really gotten a straight answer as to whether or not Nick had a hose. Which, when she thought about it, didn't really surprise her at all. Just like any affiliation, there was a reason why people tended to group toward one character or another. And Nick was-- Well, they Knighties . . . . ********************************************************************* Time In A Bottle by Diane Echelbarger, unaffiliated Thursday, August 8, 9:48am Toronto General Hospital ICU Dr. Nigel Wetmore was making his morning rounds. When he reached the hyperbaric chamber, he checked the latest readings against the ones recorded on his patient's chart, and smiled. The woman-- a tourist by the name of Diane Echelbarger-- was recovering well. He'd been concerned at first, when tests showed that she'd lost nearly half her blood-volume after being attacked by a dog. But her time in the pressurized cylinder had boosted her production of red blood cells and that, combined with infusion of serum and white cells, had restored her fluid level so that now she was only two pints below normal levels. It was time to take her out of the hyperbaric chamber and let her wake up. He gave the appropriate orders, and an hour later she was safely transferred to a bed in ICU. All the monitors except the blood pressure sensor were removed and her slightly strange friends had, he was grateful to note, withdrawn their muscle-bound "bodyguard" some time since. By his estimate, she was due to awake at approximately six that evening. He intended to be there when that event occurred, but in the meantime, he had other tasks to complete. ********************************************************************* The Aliens in My Head by Carrie Krumtum, Knightie Place: Nick's Loft Time: After "A Writer gets an Unexpected Audience", Thursday, August 8--just before noon "Lots of people write stories about you guys," Dotti was trying to explain to him. Nick just didn't get it. "Carrie's stories are about you and Nat because she LIKES you and Nat. She wants to see you two together, to overcome the odds. It's her way of saying that, ya know?" Nick sat looking at the pile of paper he had created on the floor around the chair where he had sat and read the stories Carrie had written. Those awful scenarios played out in his head. What would possess her to write that stuff? He closed his eyes and remembered how reading about Nat had made him feel. Of all the portions of the stories, those parts had struck home with him. The feelings those parts raised in him... He too, wanted it to be like that. He nodded slightly. Dotti sighed a silent sigh of relief. It was important for Nick to calm down enough to hear another side of this thing. Carrie was obviously far too upset to tell him why she had written the stories. "It's the old story, Nick. Boy meets girl, boy has conflict, girl has conflict, but love conquers all. At least in HER stories it does. A lot of us feel that way," she paused. This was hard for Nick. He wasn't at all sure about how this current conflict would turn out. How was Nat? Would she or could she forgive him? The stories had just been too much at the wrong time. "I know," he said softly. "She didn't mean to hurt me personally. It's fiction." "Yes," Nancy spoke up. "It is. It was never meant to be the real you. Not the injuries or attacks or anger or pain. None of that was happening to YOU, just your virtual self. Carrie wouldn't do anything like that to you. She never would want you hurt. Ever." Nick looked up to see several Knighties nod at the assertion. "I was kind of hard on her, wasn't I?" More nods. He looked up at his bedroom door, at the portal to the sanctuary where Carrie had retreated in horror and embarrassment. Placing his hands on the arms of the chair, he prepared to rise to go to her. "Don't," Dotti said quietly, holding up her hands. "Let me. She feels bad enough. Perri already said she wouldn't come down until you had gone. She needs to know that you aren't mad anymore. Maybe I can help convince her before you go up." Nick looked at Dotti and nodded. She did know the author much better than he did. "Just make sure she knows that I want to talk to her, okay?" "Fair enough." With that, Dotti headed upstairs. Her initial embarrassment had deteriorated into a deep sorry. The tears had help ease the humiliation of the very public display, but not the guilt. What was she thinking? Writing stories about him and Nat like that. She knew what she was thinking...she was thinking that if she had control of the universe, the bad things that happened to a noble knight would be soothed. That the cruelty of his existence would be offset by the sweetness and tenderness of a love that could transcend and overcome. It was her way of wishing for those things for him. Yes, her stories had been graphic in their cruelty, but then, life was cruel. Oh, girl, she thought, why would he ever believe another thing you had to say? The tears began fresh journeys down her face when she heard the knock at the door. "Carrie, hon," Dotti's voice called to her. "Can I come in?" She really didn't want to see anyone. "No, please. I don't..." Her objection was interrupted by the opening of the door. Dotti quickly hopped into the room and closed the door behind her. "Now, come on. You need to talk to someone. You haven't said a word to anyone since Perri was up here." "How can I?" Carrie asked, sniffing. "Everyone knows that Nick thinks I betrayed him. He thinks I hate him or something." "No, he doesn't." Dotti said as she moved to the bed to place her arms around her friend. "He's down there right now blaming himself for coming down on you so hard. He just needed time to calm down and think. It's an emotional time for him right now. You know that." Carrie sniffed again and pulled away from Dotti's embrace. "He has every right to be angry. It never even occurred to me that he would ever read my stories. I never once considered how they would make him feel." "He knows that, NOW." Dotti smiled at her. "It just caught him off guard. You should really talk to him, you know." "NO!" That was the last thing she wanted. She never wanted to see that look on Nick's face again. That look that said 'How could you do this to me?'. The look that had nearly tore her heart out. "No." Dotti sighed and put her arms around Carrie again when they both heard someone clear their throat from the doorway. Looking up, they both saw Nick standing just outside the door. "May I come in?" Dotti nodded. Carrie stiffened and sat upright. She clung to Dotti's arms as Dotti stood up to leave. The look Carrie gave to her said 'please don't leave me here alone'. "It'll be all right. It's okay, girl. I promise," Dotti told her quietly. She pulled away and waited for Nick to step into the room before closing the door behind her and going downstairs. Carrie rose and backed up to the wall. She stood rigid before the vampire, the knight, the noble soul she had wounded. She waited. "I'm sorry," Nick said. "You're sorry? I'm the one who's sorry. I'm sorry I ever wrote those stupid stories," Carrie began. "I hope that isn't true," he replied. "I was upset. It's just that there's a lot going on right now. I wasn't expecting to read that sort of thing." Carrie swallowed. "I would have never wanted you to read them." The look of surprise that washed across his face was mingled with what she thought might be hurt. "Why?" he asked gently. "Because I didn't write them for you." He looked at the Knightie and thought about that for a second. He nodded. Of course she didn't. "Who did you write them for, aliens?" He grinned. For a moment, Carrie didn't know how to react. He was smiling, a little anyway. He didn't appear to be angry anymore, at least, not overtly. She was incredulous, though. It was important to her that he understand. "I wrote them for myself and the others like me who want you to be happy. Finely, happy." Carrie took a small step away from the wall. She was gaining courage as she spoke. "It's been hard to just watch as life has dished its helpings out to you. Life is like that for all of us. Life is hard and then you die, they say. I say, it's a lot harder on you if you don't die." She paused to study his face briefly. He was listening. "There are a lot of us who just want you to have what you want. I can't even imagine what it must be like for you. That's why I write the stories that I write. The alternate scenarios place you in situations that I CAN imagine. In those kind of scenarios, I can at least control the damage, make the emotion real, plan the outcome and let life happen but with an ending that makes me feel better. Uncertainty is hard to deal with on infinitum. I needed resolution, so I created it." She looked away from his face as she continued. "I'm sorry, Nick. I never even thought about how my stories might make you feel. It was insensitive. I know it was. I can't take them back, but if I could, I would." Before her heart could convulse one more time to complete a beat he was standing right in front of her with his hands on her shoulders. The movement startled her a little, but she didn't move. He reached his hand under her chin and tilted her head up to look at him. "It's okay. I understand, now." He had listened to his follower in silence and respect for her feelings. He wasn't sure he liked the notion of anyone writing stories about him, but he understood how it could be cathartic and beneficial to her to write them and for others of his followers to read them. In a strange way, it did make sense. He smiled at her again and waited for her to feel the sincerity in his expression. When at last her face softened and she began to smile back, he repeated, "Aliens?" Carrie blushed, "Well, it was the first thing that popped into my head." "I think you had better stick to the stories you write now, this spur of the moment stuff needs work," Nick said as he hugged her. Carrie laughed and nodded. She pulled away nervously. It was weird being this close to him. She was new to the cause, after all. Maybe now, they could build some trust between them. He needed to trust that all of them were there to help him. She was proud to be a part of the team. "Come on," Nick said. "Let's go down and get something to eat. You must be hungry." Carrie smiled, "If you don't mind, I'll use a different menu." Nick laughed as he let Carrie go and headed out of the room with her in tow. "No problem. I think someone even saved your cheese danish for you..." ********************************************************************* I Just Can't Believe It by Carrie Krumtum, Knightie doing penance Place: Nick's Loft Time: Thursday afternoon 3 pm Nick shook his head. He had been reading this fanfic stuff on and off all day since the special delivery had arrived. First Carrie's fiction, then Marcia's, now The Cracked Belles of Philly, whoever the heck they were. He did smile though. This whole idea would take a lot of getting used to. This last story was ridiculous, silly and insane. Urs, starting an April Fool's war? Silly indeed. Unless you took into account that he was right in the middle of a so called war himself. He looked around the room and took in the sights of a group of women, from all over North America, camped out in his loft trying to find a little brown book and help him reconstruct his life. Whew, he thought. This stuff can be powerful. War that is. His thoughts returned to the story he had just read, Shift of Fools. He couldn't believe it, he just couldn't believe it. He smiled, despite himself. It made him laugh to think about the kind of mind, or minds, that could not only think this stuff up but write it down and then disseminate it to others. It was silly and funny and embarrassing and wonderful. It was human. His face lost its smile. Human. That was the crux of it. Art, creativity, humor. These were the things that defined the human soul, the collective consciousness. They were what separated the human mind from the animals. He had been human once. He remembered the feelings of finite time and the need for self expression. The need to share the experience of mortality. Wasn't that what his struggle now was all about? Wasn't that why what was going on now so important? Wasn't that why finding Nat, healing that relationship, stepping into tomorrow and finding a reason to go on so all consuming to him? He nodded. Yes, he understood why. It even made the silliest of the stories seem worth while to him. He could share a lot with these people, these friends, these supporters who followed and cared for him so much. He wanted to partake of their spirit and vitality. He wanted to be a part of their world again, someday. He hoped that he would. Shift of Fools was reassembled in chronological page order and placed on top of the stack of other stories he had read. He placed all of them in the drawer of the table where he kept his gun. Now the drawer would hold some of his dreams as well. Dreams for him that had been dreamed by others but that still held promise for him. Yep, he was one lucky vampire. He couldn't have been surrounded by a better group of people. He couldn't have been supported with any more heart or soul than these gave to him. He hoped that one day he would be worthy of all the love and support he was shown. He truly hoped so. ********************************************************************* It's Probably Me... by Dianne la Mercenaire (acting on behalf of her own dignity and good name , nominally in the employ of Jennie Hayes... for the princely sum of a good backrub :-) [Timeline: 'round about 4pm, Thurs. 8/8/96] [Place: Toronto General Hospital ICU] (and, as usual, watch those "n"s, or it may get mighty confusing... ) WARNING: The following contains unexpurgated examples of ValSpeak. Minors, the infirm, and those with easily affected minds or speech patterns should NOT continue. All others, proceed at your own risk... yadda, yadda, yadda.... -+*+-+*+-+*+- -+*+-+*+-+*+-+*+-+*+-+*+- -+*+-+*+-+*+-+*+-+*+-+*+-+*+-+*+-+*+- Diane's friends had had her well-protected, you had to give them that. The little bit of computer hacking required had been easy. Absconding with a sheet of non-essential info from the patient file had taken mere seconds. But the actual 'hands-on' switch was another matter. It had taken several hours of careful observation, an extremely itchy wig, and resorting to the candystriper uniform she'd vowed when she was thirteen never to wear again, but she'd found their weakness. As usual, it was very simple... the best plans always were. But the best part was that spiking the waiting room coffee machine wouldn't affect the staff or endanger the patients. It just meant that the few friends and relatives keeping lonely vigil that night got a long, deep, and restful sleep instead. What it was aimed at was the hulking bodyguard that had been posted over Diane's comatose form since she was first attacked. Since he had been 'downsized', it hit the nurse's assistant assigned to sit with the newly emerged patient. Oh well, whatever works. As she tiptoed past the aide, sprawled unconscious on an uncomfortable-looking chair, she grabbed an extra pillow and tucked it gently under her head. After all, Dianne didn't have anything personal against her... ...This was entirely between the Merc and Diane. -+*+-+*+-+*+-+*+-+*+-+*+-+*+-+*+-+*+ "So they finally took her out of the hyperbaric chamber?" asked the nurse just coming on duty as she frowned at a file and sat down at the computer. "You mean Diane?" "No," the second nurse shook her head, peering closely at the screen before her. "I mean Ms. Ech...el...barger." She allowed herself a little smile of triumph at having managed it on the first try. "Right," the exiting nurse nodded, shrugging into her coat. "Diane Echelbarger-- the blood-loss coma in 7G." "Says here her name's 'Bunny'." The first nurse stopped in surprise. "You're kidding!" She peered over her co-worker's shoulder. "'Bunny'?" "Yup! Right here on the official records." "Weird... her friends keep calling her Diane...." "Well, would *you* want to admit to a name like 'Bunny'?" They looked at each other and started laughing. -+*+-+*+-+*+-+*+-+*+-+*+-+*+-+*+-+*+ Fastening the new ID bracelet firmly around Diane's unresisting wrist, the Merc raised her camera, adjusted the exposure, and snapped several photos from a variety of angles. "A red fur *bikini*, 'Bunny'?" she murmured, shaking her head in disbelief and adjusting the 'liberator gun' so that it showed better. "Not the thing to do-- even at a con-- when you have friends with long memories and loose lips...." She took one more photo, lowered the camera and smiled. "But then again, what are friends for, dearest?" -+*+-+*+-+*+-+*+-+*+-+*+-+*+-+*+-+*+ After a moment, the nurses recovered their composure... somewhat. "We'll have to correct it." "Well, if she doesn't use it...." "Nope, it's right here on the computer... I checked because someone forgot to print out the personal info sheet for her file. I don't know *how* they missed that." She shook her head in genuine sympathy for the comatose woman. "We'll _have_ to change the charts... and the sign on her room...." "Her friends aren't going to like it." "Not our problem. Getting fired for not following procedure and bringing the legal department down on our heads-- *that's* our problem. First thing you do, change the charts, o.k.?" The second nurse nodded. "Will do." -+*+-+*+-+*+-+*+-+*+-+*+-+*+-+*+-+*+ Dianne emerged from the room in time to hear that her plan was firmly in place. Folding the torn patient info sheet around Diane's passport and driver's license, she slipped the whole mess into her bag and moved to leave. "Hey, Jane!" Dianne jumped slightly to hear the new nurse call down the hall after her retreating co-worker. "_Tell_ me you didn't eat all of the chocolate chip cookies!" -+*+-+*+-+*+-+*+-+*+-+*+-+*+-+*+-+*+ -+*+-+*+-+*+-+*+-+*+-+*+-+*+-+*+-+*+ Dee started to look around, but was stopped cold by an even more urgent question: She looked down at herself, her face screwed up in horrified disgust. Dee's brain paused noticably as she realized that that was, indeed, exactly where she was. She grabbed her bag to her and stared at the point at which her feet actually _touched_ part of this place. With as much speed as possible-- considering her disgusted efforts to avoid actually touching anything... including the air-- Dee was out the door. She paused, blinking uncertainly in the bright sunlight of the parking lot. Looking around in vain for aid... assistance... the vaguest hint of a clue..., her vacant eyes alighted on a nearby structure and a tiny spark of light glittered in them. She was saved! Before her lay salvation, sanctuary, purpose and meaning in a complicated and confusing world. Not to mention *killer* prices on minis. "Oooooh! Totally bitchin'! A *mall*!" Dee's tones were those of utter worship. ----------------- [note to Diane E, who's probably keeping count : Bunny, dearest... that's 250 Dee-words... 1/2 down, 3&1/2 to go...] ********************************************************************* Here I Stand Before Me by Dianne la Mercenaire (acting under the whammy of a certain, unnamed, 2000-year-old vampire with just *no* sense of humor :-p) [Timeline: directly follows "It's Probably Me..."; c. 4:30pm, Thurs. 8/8/96] [Place: Eaton Center (you know... the big mall thing :-)] WARNING: Yup, more ValSpeak. You know the drill.... -+*+-+*+-+*+-+*+-+*+-+*+-+*+-+*+-+*+- After verifying that all her vital parts were intact--Visa, MasterCard, AmEx, cash for munchies and stuff...-- Dee lost herself in the essence of The Mall. It was almost, like, a Zen thing for her.... And who ever said Valley Girls weren't deep? -+*+-+*+-+*+- Checking the first mirror she found to see if her brief slip into anxiety had left, like, you know, *wrinkles* or something equally grody like that, Dee was reassured to see no signs of any permanent damage. she rolled her eyes. Pulling off the like totally, *totally!*, little frilly pink overtunic and stuffing it into her bag, she wondered, briefly, how this had happened to her. Then, slowly, a lone thought entered her brain and started rattling around, lost in the void.... I mean she couldn't have, like, actually _picked it out_, or something. <*As IF*!!!> But, like, maybe it, like, *meant* something, I mean, like, if like, there was a, like *reason*, or like, somethi--*Sale on minis!* *Bitchin!* Dee hurried into the store, her mind once again at (total) rest. -+*+-+*+-+*+-+*+-+*+-+*+- Abby was just leaving Discount Disguises ("If your own mother recognizes you, your purchase is free!") when she ran into Dianne. Literally. "Oh *bogus*! It's like, why do you all run into _me_? I'm, like, *so* sure! I'm just totally bummin'!" Having heard of Chris' earlier adventure with 'Dee'-- and Dianne's flat refusal to acknowledge it had ever happened-- Abby knew one of two things were going on-- Either the Grand High Poohbah of the Merc Guild was involved in something so important, so secret, so vital to the security, nay *existence*!, of her affiliation and of the War as a whole that she was sacrificing her own dignity, pride, reputation, and fashion sense in a noble, lonely gesture of intense self-sacrifice... ...or Dianne had just completely lost her mind. Knowing her Poohbah as she did, Abby was willing to bet rather highly on the latter. "Am I speaking to 'Dee' now," she asked in her best movie-of-the-week, stall-'em-until-back-up-arrives-or- until-they-confess-to-some- terrible-crime-and-jump-off-the-handy-nearby-ledge-'cuz-there's-only- five-more-minutes-of-show-left-and-we've-got-to-wrap-this-up-*fast* voice. "Like, no *duh*!" Dee rolled her eyes, a gesture that took intense concentration and nearly qualified as an Olympic sport in itself for her. "Can I speak to 'Dianne'," Abby coaxed hopefully. "Like, I'm so *sure*! What *is* your, like, problem anyway?" Dee stood there vacantly for a few moments, apparently awaiting an answer. Abby decided to try communicating in the Valley Girl's native tongue, "Um... I'm... uh... 'like' Abby? 'like' 'you know' and... um... I 'like' want 'like' to 'like' know 'like' what 'like' happened 'like' to 'like' Dianne... uh... 'like'." Dee stared at her for another long moment, until Abby started to wonder if sound actually traveled slower in her world or something. Then she flipped her hair, which Abby chose to take as a sign that communication had been established... on some level. "Like, I don't *know* this, like, 'Dianne' you want, like, okay? And this conversation is, like, *totally* bumming me out, so, like, let's shop!" Her face broke into an ecstatically mindless grin at this suggestion. "Um, no." Abby answered, giving up completely. "I'll... uh... 'like' talk to 'like' Dianne 'like'... uh... later-- 'like' 'okay'?" Dee flipped her hair and rolled her eyes at the same time [9.8 level of difficulty there, judges!]. "Like, what-*ev*-er!" , Dee decided. By the time she reached this conclusion, Abby had already left. Dee shook her head-- that Abby was such a total *space-cad... "Oooooooooh! Look at the kittens!" Dee cooed at a really annoyingly high pitch, running the few steps to the petshop window. "Aren't they just... like... the *cutest*?!?!" The customer at the counter just stared openly at her for a minute, before turning back to the clerk. "No, no. Not the fancy ones, this is for my barracuda. I just need a bag of the ten-for-a-loony feeder goldfish...." -+*+-+*+-+*+-+*+-+*+-+*+-+*+-+*+-+*+- -+*+-+*+-+*+-+*+-+*+-+*+-+*+-+*+-+*+- Dianne blinked, wavered slightly on her feet, then blinked again. Then her eyes focused. "Oooooooh! Kitties!" she cooed. "Oh _Goddess_! Aren't they adorable?" After a few seconds she looked up as she realized that the clerk and the customer at the counter were looking at her really strangely. she muttered to herself as she hefted her bags and headed back out into the mall. She was in the middle of a _War_ for heaven's sake-- she was *on assignment*!-- what was she doing _shopping_? She found a bench and dropped her bags on it. Digging through them she found Diane E.'s identification and clothes, _no_ red fur bikini, and enough exposed film to reassure her that the job had been completed. Digging further, she found the candystriper outfit-- and her usual sneak outfit. Which meant she was wearing.... _what?_ Looking down at herself, she found her brain telling her the most bizarre and impossible things. Turning until she found a shop window with the right reflective angle, she discovered the truth... ...her eyes were lying to her too. Either that, or she was wearing solid yellow tights with a matching turtleneck and huge hairclip, a black *mini*, with matching pumps and vest. She looked like across between a Perkulator and a Ravenette's worst nightmare... a disaster right out of Contempo... which was really odd, since they'd never carried anything *near* her size, even in jr. high.... She'd been attacked! Somehow someone had caught her after her last assignment, knocked her out, and dressed her like some kind of sick throwback to the early eighties San Fernando Valley. She shuddered. She'd grown up far too close to the source of the menace to ever forget. She'd actually seen real, live Valley Girls as a mere child. The trauma stayed with you always. She decided. <*Lots* of it.> She stared in the glass one last time. -+*+-+*+-+*+-+*+-+*+-+*+-+*+-+*+-+*+- [Hi, Diane! Per the New-More-Merciful-(on us all!)-Counting- Method, that makes three out of four Dee-stories complete. #4 will becoming from Cath & Perri, with the ValSpeak I already wrote included. Hence, this is it! ... and I can actually *feel* my IQ dropping already, thank you _very_ much... :-p However, I have a sneaking suspicion that Dee will eventually meet the NatPack after all... so consider that a bonus installation-- The Dreaded, The Feared, The Return of Dee! ] ********************************************************************* What Time Is It, What Day Is It, What Fandom Is It? (1/2) by Diane Echelbarger, unaffiliated Thursday, August 8, 4:37pm Toronto General Hospital ICU "Just watch the readouts while I get some dinner, Annie," the nurse explained patiently. "None of these patients are critical, and you can call Maxine if anything changes." Annie, who was on her first day of rotation as a student nurse, nodded nervously and sat in front of the bank of monitors, hoping nothing would go wrong before Janet returned. Diane regained consciousness slowly. she thought. She lay there a few minutes, eyes closed, trying to place herself. She was lying down, head raised, and felt vaguely weak. Also chilly. She remembered having some *very* strange dreams, but couldn't recall any details. Slowly, her mind grew clearer. She'd come to Toronto for the Museum Opening, and she was staying with Spifff. That was right. Had she fallen asleep on the sofa? This didn't feel like a sofa. She opened her eyes. She was in a hospital bed, with some sort of monitor hooked to one arm. A blurry white blob snoring in a chair was probably a woman, but she couldn't be sure without her glasses. Then she looked down at herself. At the red fur micro-mini (slit on both sides to the hips), the black fishnet panty hose, spike heeled pumps, skimpy red-fur top and retro-70s "weapon" attached to the wide, patent-leather belt. It was a near-copy of the outfit she'd made for the last Scorpio convention, years ago..... (At the bank of monitors, Annie noticed with surprise that the patient in 417's blood pressure had jumped from a low-but-normal-for-her 90/58 to an astounding 142/91.) Diane thought, suddenly furious. Dianne must have carried out her assignment, attacked the NatPack, and Jennie had responded in kind. She'd figure out why the Head NatPacker had smuggled her into a hospital later. Right now, she had more important things to do. Kicking free of the ridiculous spiked heels-- which were pinching her e-width feet-- and detaching the black "power pack" of the absurdly phallus-like _Blake's 7_ weapon from her belt, she sat up and reached for the phone next to her bed. Unfortunately, the combination of being two pints low and bedridden for twelve days had left her weak, stiff, and dizzy. She fumbled, lost her balance, and fell out of the high hospital bed, ending half- suspended by the blood-pressure cuff on her right arm. Without really thinking about the consequences, she reached up with her left hand and ripped the cuff open-- --and landed flat on her face on the linoleum floor. At the nurse's station, Annie was just about to call Maxine for advice on the patient in 417 when, without warning, the monitor flatlined. Annie panicked. Snatching at the intercom, she flipped it on and shouted into the microphone. "Code Blue! *Code Blue in room 417*! CODE BLUE!!!!" Thus, when the head nurse led the crash team through the door thirty seconds later, she was greeted by the sight of her supposedly comatose and cardiac-arrested patient-- who had definitely been unconscious and dressed in a hospital-issue gown when she'd done her 3pm walk-around-- sprawled on the floor, dressed like something out of a Classic Star Trek episode, and talking into the telephone that lay next to her on the linoleum. In the stunned silence that followed, Diane's slightly raspy voice was clearly audible. "...package you're holding for me?" Pause. "Deliver it." The slam of the receiver jarred the head nurse out of her shock. A quick glance into the corner showed the Nurse's Aide, who was *supposed* to have been watching the patient, sound asleep. The situation had "negligence lawsuit" written all over it. Thinking quickly, the head nurse attempted damage control. "Annie, Maxine," she directed crisply, "help the patient up, please. You two," she indicated two male nurses, then jerked her head at the Nurse's Aide, who had begun snoring again, "get *her* out of here. The rest of you put that equipment back where it belongs and get back to work." The Crash Team dissipated with all due speed, the soon-to-be- unemployed snorer was dragged off, and the two nurses approached the now-glaring woman on the floor. ********************************************************************* Like Gag Me by: Abby Albrecht Soon after "Here I Stand Before Me." (Allow for transportation time ;) *Warning: Excessive use of Val Speak and Music. Danger Will Robinson! Danger!* Special thanks to Chris for the soap. Dianne slowly unlocked the front door to Merc Central. It had been a long, and confusing, day and she just wanted to go to bed. She was hoping if she went slowly, people wouldn't notice her, her outfit, or the glazed look in her eyes. She wasn't slow enough. "Hi Dianne!" Liz shouted over the noise blaring out of the tv. "You look beat!" "No? Really?" Dianne replied sarcastically. She looked at the tv, but she couldn't figure it out. Liz noticed her confusion. "It's 'Another Beautiful Day With Dynasty.'" She smiled up at the Poobah. Dianne was too tired to comment, so she just watched. ++++++++++on the tv+++++++++++++ "Yes, that's right. I'm not really your twin brother Marco. I'm your evil ex-lover Andre! BWAHAHAHA!!" "Curse you, Andre! You leave me no choice but to push you off this convenient cliff!" "aiiiiiiiiii........." ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ Dianne was too entranced in the story to notice Abby coming in the front door. Abby noticed Dianne, though. She nearly dropped the package that she was supposed to deliver when she noticed what Dianne was watching. "Umm, Dee? Is that you?" She asked. "Huh?" Dianne mumbled. "Am I speaking to Dee?" "No..." Dianne answered cautiously. "Why? Do you see a Dee in this room?" She was really beginning to worry about Abby. Abby, on the other hand, was just flat out confused. *Dianne is Dianne. Maybe everything is ok,* she tried to reassure herself. "Umm, Dianne?" "Hmmm?" Yup, that was Dianne. *I'd know that "hmmm" anywhere,* Abby thought. "This package is for you..." She hannded over the box, and watched as Dianne examined it like a child before a birthday. "Hold on. You can't open it yet." That got Liz interested. "Why can't she?" "Yeah, why can't I?" Dianne asked suspiciously. "It's a present. My employers want others to see how generous they are." Abby said quickly. "Employers?" Dianne was not pleased. "You didn't check with me..." "If I had it wouldn't have been much of a surprise now. Would it?" Abby smiled wickedly as she headed over to an intercom on the far wall. "OOOOOweeeeeeeeooooooooo! Captain Kirk to the bridge. Capta..." Oops, wrong fandom. Abby blushed lightly. "Will all Mercenaries please come up or down to the living room. Will all Mercenaries please come to the livingroom. This is not a drill!" Dianne smiled to herself. *Darn. I did good!* The house sounded like a herd of buffalo were stampeding through. Suddenly a swarm of Mercs were standing around. "Yeah?" Kira asked. "What's up, not quite boss lady?" Berg smiled. "Huh?" Erin raced down the stairs. "Hey Abs!" Christina nearly squealed. "Yo!" Lane tried to be macho... "Aye aye, cap'n," Leigh grinned. "Abby, you're back," Dawn noticed. "Yup, she is," Lisa agreed. "Abby! Nice to see ya again," Sonja said, finishing off the group. Dianne looked around. "Ok, there are people here. Can I open it now?" "Go right ahead," Abby said as she stepped back. As the tape was broken, everyone caught the faintest wiff of chocolate. Before Dianne could fully open the lid Berg said, "Mmmmm, Chocolate..." +-+-+-+-+- OOOOoooooowwwweeeehhhhoooooo +-+-+-+-+-+ Dee looked up from the box. "Chocolate?!? Like *who* would give ME tsch chocolate! It like causes zits, and you know, make my face all like OILY! I like tottally don't think this is cool, you know!" Dianne tossed the box at Kira. Kira, Sonja, and Erin looked in the box. "It's a chocolate goldfish!" Sonja exclaimed! +-+-+-+-+- OOOOoooooowwwweeeehhhhoooooo +-+-+-+-+-+ Dianne looked confused. She grabbed the box from the women. Then Samantha walked down the stairs... "Do I smell chocolate? +-+-+-+-+- OOOOoooooowwwweeeehhhhoooooo +-+-+-+-+-+ Dee was back. *These people are totally uncool,* she thought. "I'm outtie!" She shouted and ran out of the house The Mercs were, for once, at a loss for words. -------- Tag Susan and Cyn! You're it! ********************************************************************* One Fine Day (1/2) Cousin Karies and Cousin Julie Thursday, 5 p.m., August 8, 1996 CERK HQ Cousin Julie stood before the Jag with a bucket of water, a bottle of Turtle Wax(tm) car cleaner and a look of disgust. 'NATALIE LOVES LC' it said on the windscreen in bright red lipstick. Even though her Valentine side didn't mind the sentiments, this kind of desecration of Uncle's car could *not* be allowed. Another Cousin had suggested she take it to the nearby hand wash for cars, but Jules wasn't going to advertise the fact that, once again, the security of CERK had been breached. There had been the "petalling" and that nauseating poetry, this lipstick thing, and then that herd of cows had walked straight throught the front door. These transgressions could not be tolerated any longer. It was a perfect time to clean up the Jag (which included getting the dog fur out of the back seat) and plot, and, besides, the General had said something about using the car this very evening. It wouldn't pay to let him be greeted by such a sight. She had hoped someone would have wanted to join in, but it seemed that nearly all of them were either War weary or off on other assignments. "Hey, Dudette!" Karies shouted at her from a second story window. "Hi, Karies! Why aren't you off wreaking havoc? "There's only so much havoc a human being can wreak before they're wreakless! Anyway, Leslie's still unconscious. What are you up to?" "Oh, nothing special," Jules said with a shrug of her shoulders. "A little car washing, a little plotting." She grinned a wicked grin. Karies returned it. "I'm on my way down!" Karies shouted back, excited at the prospect of getting back to the War. An hour later, the Jag shone like new. Uncle *would* be pleased. In a short while, however, the Vaqueros would not be pleased, nor would a lot of *other people* in this War. Karies and Julie shoved the semi- conscious Leslie into the back seat and drove off into the approaching sunset. Time to get to work... ********************************************************************* What Time Is It, What Day Is It, What Fandom Is It? pt 2 by Diane Echelbarger & Spifff, unaffiliated Nigel Wetmore used with Lana Soward's permission. Thursday, 8/8 5:11pm (continuous w/pt 1) "Ms. Etchelburger?" the older woman ventured in her best professional- soothing-a-wacko-patient voice. "Eck-ul-bar-grr," Diane enunciated carefully. She had long since become resigned to the fact that people would always mangle her name. "And you people had *better* have my real clothes around here somewhere, or you are in *big* trouble." She knew the nurses weren't really at fault, of course. The NatPack, taken together, probably owned enough scrubs and lab coats to outfit the entire ward, so sneaking themselves, and her, into the hospital would have been easy. But she wasn't about to let them go another second thinking that this was *her* idea of proper clothing. "I'm sure they're right here," the head nurse assured her quickly and opened the closet. It was empty. The head nurse smiled a sickly smile and turned to the older nurse. "Maxine, our patient's things don't seem to have been transferred yet. Why don't you run down to the gift shop and pick her up one of those nice t-shirt style nightgowns they have there-- on us, of course." Maxine, who knew a delaying tactic when she heard one, nodded and hurried out the door, closing it behind her. Before Diane could do more than mentally vow retribution on the 'Pack, the nurses started to help her to her feet, and her head spun again. (She didn't know it, but this convinced the head nurse that Diane couldn't possibly have gotten into that ridiculous outfit by herself.) As they eased her onto the bed and pulled the sheet up over that absurd costume, several facts she had overlooked in her first rage occurred to her. The nursing staff knew her name. They expected her to be there. And the small calendar on the bedside table said AUGUST on the uppermost page. "How long have I been here?" she asked. "You were transferred in this morning," Annie, the nervous one, replied. "You've been in the HBTC until now." "HBTC?" "HyperBaric Treatment Chamber," the older explained. "Ah, here's Maxine." The nightshirt-- a pale grey oversized T with "Property of Toronto General Hospital" stenciled on it in royal blue-- fit fairly well, and was *much* more comfortable than the scratchy red fake fur. As Diane settled once more onto the pillows, the door opened again. "I understand you awoke a bit earlier than anticipated," an oddly familiar voice said from the doorway. Diane thought as the man in the white lab coat smiled at her and strolled toward the windows. The man reached the windows and turned to look at her-- standing in the full glare of the late-afternoon sun. "I hope you're feeling well? Not too dizzy?" the rational part of her mind insisted. Her mind babbled helplessly on, arguing with itself, as the eerily familiar figure approached the bed and took her pulse. The doctor's hand was tanned. Very tanned. This fact reassured her enough that she was able to answer him semi-coherently. "Who are you?" "My name is Dr. Nigel Wetmore," he told her smoothly. "I've been treating you since you were admitted." He smiled. It was a professional smile, intended to reassure the patient. "You gave us quite a scare, you know." "I did?" Diane tried to remember anything she could have done or been planning to do that could give her the bends-- because why else would they have put her in a hyperbaric chamber?-- and gave up. "What happened?" "You were attacked by a dog," he explained. "Lost quite a lot of blood. You've been unconscious for some time." "I have?" She frowned, and a vague memory resurfaced, of herself standing in the shadow of a tree, and people digging... and glowing yellow eyes. She put her hand up to her neck. There was a small bandage on the right-hand side. She spent a moment trying to figure out why she was still alive, then gave up. "What day is it?" "Thursday." "Oh." She thought about that. "I've been unconscious for five days?" He smiled. "Twelve, actually." "*Twelve* days?!" More mental math followed. "You mean it's August 8th?" "That's right." "Great," Diane snarled. "That means I missed the Brabant opening at the ROM. And the convention I was here for. *And*," she added, "my birthday." Dr. Wetmore and the nurses made professionallly-sympathetic noises. He took a her blood pressure (still rather high, for her, at 122/86), dictating the readings to the nurse, told her she would be released Saturday morning if she didn't over-exert herself, and left. Maxine (the head nurse had long since vanished, taking Annie with her) offered to fetch her something to drink and mentioned that dinner would be served at six. Diane requested cranberry juice, and as soon as the nurse was out of sight, she reached, carefully this time, for the phone. It was picked up on the first ring. "Hello, Bizza Pizza, may I take your order? Today we'er offering a two-for-one special and a free 6-pack of diet softdrink." Spiff was unusually jovial on the other end of the line." "Spifff? Is AJ there?" Doing her finest answering machine imitation, Spifff answered, "I'm sorry, AJ's not currently available. After the tone you may leave a message. Beeep!!" "That's OK, you'll do fine," Diane said eagerly. "Listen, this is Diane, can you--" "Diane, you're awake! You're OK, that's terrific! How are you feeling? Wait a minute, it's really you, isn't it? This isn't some sort of post-mezcal hallucination or weird aspirin and coffee trip? Man, I gotta cut down," Spifff began, somewhat incoherently. Diane waited for her excitable friend to stop babbling, then answered. "Yes, I'm awake. I'm fine, just a little weak on my feet. Listen, you guys know there's a War on, right?" "Yah." Spifff started into a detailed explanation of their activities at full speed. "We sent some photographs to the Vaqs then-- oh, wait, you don't know about that. Like we had some pictures taken down at the river, right where you..." "Cut!" Diane interrupted. "Look, you can fill me in when you get here. Right now I need your help with a counter-attack." "But of course, I serve to obey. Your every wish is my command," Spifff responded. "Great. Now listen carefully. Somewhere in the apartment there should be a blue box, about a foot square and three inches deep. It's got a white plastic carry-handle and says "Hershey's Candy Shoppe" all over it." Spifff looked around and noticed a large black feline sitting posessively on Diane's box. "It's right underneath Comet-cat." "Good. Bring it to the hospital. I'm in room 417. Oh, and bring my teal bag, will you? I need something to wear. And Spiff? Hurry." "Like, on my way, faster than a speeding bullet." Spiff hung up the phone. Diane replaced the receiver in its cradle, took a long sip from her cranberry juice, and smiled. she thought. (To be continued in "Pictures of Times Past") ********************************************************************* Pictures of Times Past By Diane Echelbarger & Spifff, unaffiliated Thursday, August 8, 6:23pm Toronto General Hospital, room 417, ICU Dinner had been served before Spifff arrived with Diane's things. Which wouldn't have bothered Diane quite so much if dinner hadn't consisted of a bowl of lukewarm chicken noodle soup, a dozen saltless saltines, a glass of skim milk, and a bowl of vanilla yoghurt for dessert. ("Gotta start you off easy, after almost two weeks off solid food", the smarmy guy from foodservice had explained. Diane had almost thrown the bowl of yoghurt at him.) When her friend finally arrived, Diane gratefully put the rest of her meal aside and filled them in as she took the pale-blue box onto her lap. "A red fur bikini?" Spifff gasped. "They *die*, now." "*That* would be much too good for them. I have something much more appropriate in mind," Diane promised with a wicked grin, and patted the box. "What's in there?" Spifff perched on the edge of the bed next to her injured friend and began helping herself to the leftovers from Diane's dinner. "It's my photo collection." Diane smirked. "I keep saying I'm gonna get albums and organize 'em, but I never get around to it." She opened the box, revealing more than a dozen envelopes stuffed with pictures. "I brought it up 'cause I figured you guys might want to see the photos from NATPE and MediaWest. I've got copies of Jennie's photos from last year's Giggly and T-Trek10 in here somewhere, too." "Total coolness!" Spifff bounced a little on the bed. "Can I see?" Diane grinned and flipped open the first envelope. "Media," she commented, and gave it to Spifff, and opened the next. "NATPE, and an FK party at my place." She handed that one to her friend, too. As Spifff looked at the pictures, asking for occasional ID's on the people, Diane sorted through the rest of the envelopes. When she found the one of herself in a Victorian nursemaid's uniform (with her then-six-month-old godson in the pram) she knew she was close. A minute later, she pulled out a 4x6 print with a cry of triumph. "Got it!" She waved the color snapshot in front of her hostess. "This'll show her!" "Huh?" Spifff looked at the picture while choking on a saltine. "Like, who's that?" "Jennie Hayes. I made her the costume in '92." Diane grimaced. "She's Head NatPacker, and one of only two FK folk who know about that old Blake's 7 costume of mine." "That picture looks kinda tame," Spifff ventured. "To someone from our time, maybe," Diane agreed. "But to a Victorian, *this* is a Playboy cover." She grinned. "How fast can you get an enlargement of this? I don't have the negative." "Why?" Spifff asked. Diane told her. By the time she was finished, they both wore the same maniacal smile. ********************************************************************* One Fine Day (2/2) Cousin Karies and Cousin Julie Thursday, 6:30 p.m., August 8, 1996 CERK HQ "What *am* I doing?" Cousin Julie said to herself after she had shut the driver's side door. "What's wrong, Gal?" asked Karies. "Just forgot my purse," Jules replied. "I'll be back in a tick, ok?" "I'm not going anywhere," answered Karies, then indicated to the seat behind her, "and I *know* Leslie's not going anywhere either!" Jules ran through the door and back down the station's main hallway, when a brightly coloured piece of paper posted to the notice board caught her attention: WANTED: Secretary Must type 80-100 wpm and have superior writing and verbal skills. Apply to the General Manager, CERK A million thoughts sped through the Cousin's brain. 'Hey,' she thought, '*I* can do *that*!' Cousin J sped back down the corridor to the waiting Karies and semi- conscious Leslie. "Uh, Karies," she began, "do you mind *awfully* if we do this the next War round?" "Why ever would we want to do that?" Karies asked, somewhat taken aback by her cohort's question. "Well, you know, this War *is* almost over, and we have to get ready for the party, *and* we have to start packing, *AND* Cousin Lu and I still have to wrap Uncle's present, **AND**..." "Alright already!!" Karies said holding up her hands. "Sheesh! We'll do it another time, Gal!" She got out of the car and looked at the sleeping figure in the back seat. "Actually, you might have a good idea there. There's no telling what we'd get into, and I don't think Leslie would appreciate it if we got her into trouble without letting her have any of the fun it took to get there." "Thanks, Karies," said Jules. "I just knew you'd understand." The two Cousins hoisted Leslie up between them and returned her to her bed. Karies turned around a moment later to ask Jules a question, but she had disappeared. Very quickly. Oh, well... Back at her suitcase, Jules pulled out a diskette containing her resume. As with her Amex(tm?) card, she never went anywhere without it. "Ha! I'll just tell all my friends I'm moving to Toronto to work in a law firm!" she said out loud to no one in particular. She sighed a contented sigh, tossing the job advertisement she had ripped from the notice board and torn into a million eensy teensy pieces into the rubbish bin. Life *was* good! To be continued in a future War... ********************************************************************* DeeDeeDianne Meets her Match By Raven Cynthia Hoffman Valley Girl Talk Coaching by Diane E., Unaffiliated Date: August 8, 1996 Time: Approximately 9:30 p.m. Place: Eventually, The Raven Shortly after Like Gag Me Dee was back. *These people are totally uncool,* she thought. "I'm outtie!" She shouted and ran out of the house. The Mercs were, for once, at a loss for words. -------- Dee bounced along the street outside Merc HQ, empty headed, humming a song and playing lines and squares. thought the six foot tall skipping woman. She hummed louder and the song turned in to words and the words became "no one who's anybody walks in LA." she thought. <"Like, I'm so totally cool, I should be, like, *driving* a Maserati or, like, something. Like, why am I, like, *walking*?> Ever susceptible to suggestion, Dee hopped into a cab and when the cabbie asked where she was headed, she said, "Well, like, *the* club, y'know? Like, the *cool* one? Where just *everybody* who, like, matters goes, y'know? Like, I, like, work there, y'know. Like, *duh*!"" And with that, Dee handed the cabbie a book of matches with the familiar Raven logo on it. (I don't know how she got them ... honest, maybe a merc left them at merc HQ after stealing some socks ...) Dee settled back in the cab and stared at the window, admiring her reflection and making faces at herself in order to find the perfect cool smile she knew was lurking inside her. --------------------- 10:00 p.m. the very same night The Raven Dee wandered inside. There were people there setting up for rehearsals and there were others standing by the bar. <*This is, like, *not* cool> she thought, glancing around. and then she said it out loud. "Are you people, like, totally out of it?" she demanded. "I mean, like, Goth is, like, *out* now, y'know? I mean, fer sure!" She raked a nearby Ravenette with a scornful gaze and added, "Black velvet? Please! Major geekoid, I'm sure!" "Dianne? That you? You know you still haven't paid our bill ..." Cynthia's voice trailed off at the blank look that faced her. Dee stared at the short dark haired woman who had approached her. "Why do people keep calling me that bogus name? I'm like Dee, man, for sure, not Dianne." Cynthia looked puzzled for a moment and then thought if she could deal with turning someone into Glinda the Good Witch, she could handle this. But she was wrong. Dee spun around and headed for the dance floor, making comments as she went. Cynthia trailed after her and heard snippets of commentary: "Like, *where* did you find that? Like, your mother's closet? I'm sure! That is *so* five minutes ago! You'd, like, *never* get by, like, the bouncers at, like, Lingere in, like, *that*." "You know, Lingere? It's like this killer club in LA; and they wouldn't let *you* in, would they? I mean because you're not cool like me." "This singing is bogus man. What happened to Van Halen? I mean like *real* Van Halen, with David Lee Roth, you know, like all that cool hair. Not Sammy Hagar, man. He was bogus." "Those are killer shoes. Platforms! Like I deserve to have those shoes. Which mall did you go to to get them?" "What? *I'm* talking, like, funny? Like, you are just, like, totally bogus, like, y'know. I mean, like, you think I'm, like, *stupid* or something?" "Don't talk like that. I mean do you think I'm mental or something? Geez." In a relatively short period of time, DeeDianne had wreaked havoc. Bonnie and Urs were unable to rehearse, the club was in a shambles and Cynthia was no longer able to keep up with, much less listen to the endless idiocy coming from Dee's mouth. "Trouble?" Cynthia stopped in her tracks. "You could say that, yes. Think you can do anything about it?" Janette stared after DeeDianne thoughtfully. "Perhaps. I would need to catch her first, yes?" "That would be a good place to start," Cynthia nodded. "I can't keep up any more. Besides, her endless drivel is starting to make me nauseous." Janette disappeared quickly into the crowd. The next thing Cynthia knew, DeeDianne was sitting on a chair by the bar and Janette was holding her down, staring into her eyes. Startled by what she saw there, Janette looked up at the ceiling. "Who did this?" Janette wondered. "Very well. I suppose I must undo it and worry about that later." ------------- Dianne looked at the vampire standing in front of her. "I sent your bill to the appropriate party," she stated slowly, as if she were relearning how to use her tongue. "There's no need to hold me here, is there?" //She's back// thought Cynthia, shaking her head and nodding to Janette. And it's always a nice thing to have a merc owe you one. ********************************************************************* More Than Words by Diane Echelbarger, unaffiliated, and Dianne DeSha, Merc GHP Thursday, 8/8, 9:49pm Dianne climbed out of the cab at Merc Central and let herself in. Frowning, she made her way to her office, trying to remember how she'd gotten to The Raven. The last thing she remembered was Abby handing her a box.... Palming the electronic lock, she entered her sanctum sanctorum and found the very box she'd been thinking of sitting on her desk. She sank into her comfortable chair, kicked off her shoes, and opened it. It contained five items. Dianne picked them up, one at a time. A 2 lb, solid-dark-chocolate goldfish, wrapped in brightly patterned foil. Dianne unwrapped the tail and bit off a piece. Definitely Godiva. A Weeble. Dianne frowned. That reminded her of something. Now, what was it? A recipe for Zombie Beachcombers. A small envelope. Dianne pulled the card inside out. It had a picture of koi (ed note: oriental pool goldfish) on the front. The inside was blank. And an old 45 rpm single. "The Leader of the Pack", by ShaNaNa. Dianne had the feeling all of this *should* mean something to her. If only she wasn't so tired, she was sure she could figure it out. She rested her head on her desk, while she thought about it. Five minutes later, she was sound asleep. ********************************************************************* I Choose Bachelor #3 (01/01) by Bonnie Pardoe (Urchin) and the Urchin Sympathizers Thursday, August 8th, ~ 10:30 pm inside the Raven ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The Urchin Sympathizers were hanging out at the Raven again, and before opening time, too -- Janette was almost sorry that she had agreed to help them revive Urs, but she was growing fond of the young vampire. Bonnie, Urs, and Felly were all up on stage; supposedly they were rehearsing, but in actuality they were just goofing-off. The others were sitting at a table just off to the side of the stage exchanging the latest war gossip. Dawn was speculating on Urs's strange ability to attract Urchin Sympathizers from almost every affiliation; after all, there were representatives from the Mercs, Immortal Beloveds, Ravens, Vaqueras, N&Npackers, and Cousins. There was a murmur of agreement before the conversation degenerated into a speculation of how they could all be meeting in a group face to face without attacking each other. When Urs and Bonnie started having a contest to see who could hit and sustain the highest note for the longest, Bianca nearly cracked and erica did crack. Chris decided to help out her "nieces," so she started flinging Raven coasters at the trio on stage -- the others quickly joined in. Felly, Urs, and Bonnie dove for cover behind the drums, the speakers, and the amps. Urs, using her special abilities, snuck off the stage and crept up behind the six coaster-flingers. Tara was the first to notice Urs's disappearance. She turned and looked behind her just in time to see Urs drop a table cloth over them. Bonnie and Felly leapt off the stage to assist Urs with her capture. Soon all nine friends were in tears from laughing so hard. The appearance of an extremely well-dressed, extremely good-looking man at the door of the Raven finally silenced the group. He walked directly up to Urs and, seemingly from no where, produced an elegant, single pink rose for her. She beamed, knowing that her friends would be happy for her -- happy that she was widening her circle of 'admirers.' Once Spifff reminded her by clearing her throat several times, Urs introduced all of her friends to her date. "... And this is my date, Larry Merlin. He's taking me dancing." Larry smiled at the group of women and tilted his head in the sexiest way anyone possibly could. Then he offered his arm to Urs and they strolled out of the Raven. The remaining friends, amidst a chorus of "woo-whos," "wows," and "yowzahs," burst into uncontrollable giggles again. They all knew that they had done well by Urs. ********************************************************************* An Excuse To Drive The Caddy by Catherine Boone and Perri Smith Takes place whenever the hell we want it to. Now piss off. (Diane... Diane! Put down the chainsaw! :) It's... uhh... Thursday sunset to sunrise.) Catherine surveyed the loft carefully. She looked left. She looked right. No one was watching. She strolled nonchalantly from her perch on the balcony down to where Perri was on the couch reading. She leaned down and whispered in Perri's ear. "Perri. I have the keys. I have my wallet. And I know how to drive a stick." Perri smiled widely, apparently immensely amused by her book. "You go first. I'll meet you in the garage in ten minutes." Catherine straightened without a word, and walked into the elevator. She was sitting in the Caddy waiting for her when Perri came flying down exactly ten minutes later. The two of them quickly and quietly pushed the Caddy out of the garage to the street. The top of the convertible was already down from other Knighties' use, so the two just jumped in feet-first as soon as they were far enough away and started the engine. In mere moments, they were tearing down the street, Perri standing on her knees in the passenger seat, her hands in the air as she whooped at the top of her lungs. Catherine had her hands in the air as well, having temporarily picked up Dianne's trick of driving with her knees, and was doing her best to out-shriek Perri. She wasn't succeeding very well, but neither really minded. They were out on the town, in search of one perfect night of fun, and darned if they were coming back till they found it! *** "Awright, where to first?" "Why do I have to decide?" "Because I'm *driving*. I'm already contributing brainpower. Now it's your turn." Perri rapped her nails restlessly on the door, watching the traffic go by. "Hey, watch those nails. If Susan finds any nicks while she's washing this thing, she's liable to scrub the paint job right off." "Okay, okay, calm down." Perri put her head in her hand, thinking... they turned another corner, and there it was, like a grail before them. "Cath, look!" Okay, so it didn't come out of the clouds and glow or anything. Do blinking airplane lights count? "It's magic." "Fate." "Phallic." "Very." "We're there, baby." Catherine accelerated, and the two sped off as the CN Tower rose like (don't go there, Cath) in the distance. *** "Come on, come *on*!" Perri grabbed Catherine's wrist as soon as the elevator opened and half-dragged her over to the railing outside the restaurant. "Jeez, it's *freezing* out here! Come on, let's get out of the wind." "Um, I don't think we *can* get out of the wind. This is kind of an up-high place. Wind comes along with the view." "What view? It's ten o'clock, Perri. If I wanted to watch little lights flicker, I'd have stayed home and played with the refrigerator bulb." She shivered in her sweatshirt. "It'd probably be warmer, too." "Oh, use your imagination. Admit it, it's cool." The city spread out like a carpet of stars surging toward the horizon. But at this height, one could see the dark outlying country beyond, the edges sharper than she would have thought. It was like the stars had dripped some of their substance into a neat puddle of starstuff on the ground. "Yeah. It's cool." They sat for quite a while, and just soaked up the atmosphere. But after a while Perri was starting to feel the cold, too, and she *had* brought her coat. "Cath, what do you say..." But Catherine was already peering down at the pavement below, seemingly fascinated. "What?" "Hmm?" Catherine snapped back to herself, and smiled. "Oh. Ahhh... I've just always wondered if a spitball really *could* dent a car, if you started at a high enough altitude..." Perri stared at her. "Cath, that's sick!" "In other words, appropriate." "No, I meant sick, even for *you*." "Really? Ya think so?" Catherine pondered skeptically. Perri made a disgusted sound and dragged her away from the railing. "Come on, Beavis, before you start acting out your fantasies." "Hey, purely scientific curiosity! If a sheet of steel of a known thickness inside a well-mapped support frame were to come into contact with an object of a specific mass, acceleration, and radius..." "Oh, shut up, Cath." The elevator doors closed behind them. Perri grabbed Cath's arm before she could plop into the driver's seat. "Hey now. My turn to drive." "Say what?" "Move it, sister. Gimme the keys." "Not on your life, honeybunny. Do you even know how to drive a stick?" Perri paused for a tense moment. "Yes." Catherine's jaw dropped. "Oh, you *lie*!" she accused. "I do not! If you can drive with your knees, I'd *better* darn well be able to drive a stick if I want to!" Catherine frowned and pondered a major sulk, but eventually caved. She sighed dramatically as she fished the keys out of her pocket. "You're *such* a child, Perri." "Ohhh yeah. You go from spitballs to condescending older sister in less than two minutes, and I'm the child." She snorted. "You could win the Indy with mood swings that fast." "No, I couldn't, because halfway through *you'd* insist on driving!" "Oh, sit still and think of somewhere to go." "Hey, yeah, it's my turn now, isn't it?" Perri managed to start the car and get it out of the parking lot without leaving tire marks, which was better than she could say, so she didn't say anything. "Well, just drive around for a while and I'll think of something." Catherine stared out and watched the shops flicker by. She was *not* sulking. She was thinking. Intensely. She found herself rapping her nails on the door of the Caddy, and sat on her hands, literally. That is, until she saw it. She leaped to her feet. (well, as well as she could while sitting in a car with her seat belt on, anyway...) "Perri, STOP!" The car screeched to a halt, and Catherine was well glad she'd constricted her movement, or she'd be Nick's new hood ornament by now. Through some vast stroke of luck, no one hit them in all their antics. That, or everyone in Toronto was just coming to expect that sort of thing from one green classic Caddy. Catherine suspected the latter herself. "What, Cath, what?" Perri was looking for hostile vampires, hostile flashbacks, whatever it was that had caught Cath's attention. "Turn around, quick!" Catherine was near-frantic by now. "WHAT, Cath?" "I just saw a Ben and Jerry's back there, and it still looked open!" Perri gasped, and dared not hope. "At eleven at night? Can it be?" Catherine bit back a snarl, "Well, we're not gonna find out just sitting here! Come *on*, it could close any second." Perri stared a moment longer, and Catherine was tempted to shake her. "We don't have much time! *Drive*, girl, DRIVE!!" She started pounding on the dashboard in her irritation. "Okay, okay!" Perri put the car back into gear, and they did a careful and highly illegal u-turn at the next light. **** "Cath, this is the life." Perri sighed, staring down at her Peanut Butter Cup in pure and utter contentment. "You said it. I've waited all war for this." Catherine took another monster spoonful of her Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough Sundae, and smiled. By the time they were done, both were stuffed to the gills and almost purring. Perri went to open the driver's side, but Catherine snatched the keys away from her. "What on earth could we possibly do to top this?" she smiled silkily, and pointed to the passenger seat. Perri chewed her lip thoughtfully, glaring at the keys in Catherine's hand. Suddenly she brightened, and Catherine watched her suspiciously out of the corner of her eye. "Let's go to Sanctuary." Catherine gave her a blank look, panic creeping in at the edges. "You *do* know how to get to Sanctuary, don't you?" Oh, and she was *soo* smug. Catherine shot her a furious glare. "Of *course* I..." she paused, realizing there was no way she could get away with this, and cursed. Perri smiled triumphantly. "Ha! Get outta my seat, sister." She gave an inarticulate snarl of rage. "You *suck*, Perri." She was still chuckling as she settled into the driver's side. "Yeah, yeah, we can drown your sorrows when we get there." **** The two collapsed into a booth in the back, where their drinks were waiting. Catherine checked her watch, and stared. "Good lord. Perri, we've been dancing two hours straight!" "Really? Wow, didn't seem quite that long." "Man, my back is gonna kill me tomorrow, this I can see." "Yeah, but if you didn't dance with me out there, *I* would have killed you *tonight*." Catherine raised her eyebrows. "I know. Which is what made the decision so easy." Perri looked sorrowful for a moment. "Too bad you can't drown your sorrows, like you wanted..." "Don't even try, Perri. *I'm* driving." She gripped her Coke possessively, and looked down at Perri's identical drink. "Don't let me stop you, though." Perri grimaced. "Nothing more depressing than drinking alone." "Mmm. Good point." The two sat with their backs to the wall, giving them great views of the dance floor and the entrance beyond it. Perfect for people-watching. Which, of course, inevitably degenerated to male-watching. Unfortunately, not one of the guys eyeing them could make the cut, for some reason... 6'2". "Too tall." 5'9". "Too short." Hair like a teddy bear. "Too Screed." Hair to his shoulders. "Too Vachon... *oww*! Hey Perri, watch where you're kicking!" "Too dark..." "Ohh, that is the *worst* bleach job..." Both realized with a start what they were doing, and cringed in unison. Perri took a long swig of her drink, and sighed. "Even when we *want* to get away, we can't..." "Gotta love wars. Everyone seems to get a one-track mind." "Yeah, well what if I want a different track?" Perri pouted and played with her straw thoughtfully. "Let me know when you find it, and I'll derail with you." Catherine grinned, and busily went to playing worm with her straw wrapper. Perri watched her for a moment, then grabbed her arm as she slid out of the booth. "C'mon Cath, time to dance." "Oh, my back is *really* going to kill me tomorrow." Perri glared once, reminding her of the obvious. That was all it took. "Coming!" **** The two tiptoed back into the loft, just before dawn. They collapsed at opposite ends of the sofa. "We really need to sleep." "I'm too caffeinated to sleep." "Then why aren't you bouncing up and down?" "Because I've been dancing for nearly four hours straight, twit." "Hey now... admit it. You had fun." "Of course I had fun. It was my idea." "Was not! I thought of it first, you just picked it out of my brain." "Oh, *right*." "Are you going back to Condescending Older Sister?" "I won't if you won't." "'Kay." "I can't believe it. I think I'm actually starting to poop out. Must be your scintillating conversation." "I can't believe you can even say 'scintillating' this late at night." "You mean this early in the morning." "Besides, I think it's working both ways. I can't open my eyes anymore." "'Night, Perri." "'Night, Cath." They hadn't moved a muscle when they were found a few hours later, fast asleep. ********************************************************************* Return of the Red Knightie (1/1) by Allison Percy, with input from fellow Knighties (a follow-up to the attack in "Roses are red, and so is..." Nick's Loft, 11:00pm Thursday August 8. The door to the loft elevator slid open to reveal Allie, red from head to toe, and Carrie, who was gesturing wildly for everyone to keep quiet. As if everyone could somehow fail to mention that their fellow Knightie was painted a bright crimson and covered with an assortment of bicycle designs. Julie Fundenberger, sporting a spiffy new Olympics t-shirt, simply looked agape at the body-painted, tattooed woman who glared at everyone in the room as if daring them to laugh. Lynn Messing put down her copy of a fan fiction story she was reading (was it "Physical Therapy"? Could be...) and gasped at seeing her friend dyed a dozen brilliant shades of red. "Allie, what happened, did a tanker of red Kool Aid explode when you were walking by?" Julie recovered her voice and whistled in amazement. "More like Ribena, perhaps?" Marg had up until this time had been looking rather innocent knitting socks while sitting in the famous chair that Nick had apparently dragged through several centuries of flashbacks, a number of dream sequences, and a virtual reality game. But when she looked up and saw the infuriated, extremely red Knightie at the door of the loft, she forever ruined any semblance of innocence she might have feigned by asking, "Allie, is that blood you're coated with? Want me to go ask Nick if he wants to lick it off?" This sent Dotti and most of the other Knighties in the room into uncontrollable laughter and squealing, breaking the tension and allowing Allie to dash over to the bathroom. The room quickly filled with steam as Allie started rinsing off the annoying body paint and scrubbing at the temporary tattoos plastered all over her arms, legs, and face. The Knighties in the loft went back to their work, perusing the contents of various brown leather books, knitting socks, and finding excuses to fondle Nick's possessions. Several grumbled about how frequently these clean-ups were becoming here at Knightie Central. Eventually a voice called out from the shower area. "#@%&*! Can someone out there pop in and hand me a luffa? These supposedly temporary tattoos are more stubborn than I thought." Dotti grabbed one of her numerous, interestingly-shaped luffas and crept into the bathroom, handing it over the shower door. Sounds of scrubbing ensued for several minutes, until the luffa was handed back over the shower door, completely red. By the time Allie was finished, every luffa, sponge, and towel in the bathroom was a vivid red, but Allie herself had faded to a pale pink dotted with the occasional remnant of a bicycle tattoo. Finally, Allie emerged from the bathroom after throwing on a robe. She looked at the pile of red towels, red bike clothes, and other assorted red items and looked pleadingly at Dotti. "Do you think we can just dump the whole pile? I think Nick can afford a few new towels and sponges, and I never want to see those red clothes again." Several Knighties assisted in gathering up the ruined mess and dumping it into several large garbage bags. On the other side of the room, Maryann Jorgensen dialed "1-800-NUTOWEL" to order Nick a fresh batch of bath linens. She wasn't at all surprised to find that he had a regular account with them -- it really was hard to imagine that Nick did his own laundry, anyway. ... to be continued in "A Messenger a Day Chases the Red Blues Away" Roses are red, I love them the most. Whoever did this, If I catch you you're toast! ********************************************************************* A Messenger a Day Chases the Red Blues Away (1/1) by: Carrie Krumtum, Knightie with input from Allie, the Red Knightie, Sandra Gray and the Knighties. Place: Nick's Loft Time: Thurs 8/8 11:20pm (a follow-on to "Return of the Red Knightie") Allie had managed to remove almost all of the red from the body paint. There was a slight embarrassed shade of pink remaining, a few faded bicycle helmet designs, but that was about it. Still, she pined for her bike. The memory of the kidnapping was still a bit hazy, but she did remember the note on her bike. It would be returned, or so the note alleged. The lost vehicle had still to turn up. "Allie," Carrie said to her friend, "you do look better." "Ha, ha. Very funny. Keep that up and you're toast!" Allie replied from her place on the sofa. "And the person who did this is toast, too!" Carrie could sense that Allie was really upset. Not that she didn't have good reason. Being painted completely red, in ten different shades, with multiple tattoos and then left in the center of Toronto with no way of getting back and nothing to show for it but a box of chocolates to boot. Well, she giggle under her breath, it would be frustrating to say the least. Dotti sat down next to Allie and picked up her hand to pat it. "Don't worry about the bike, hon. We have some good news for ya!" Allie looked up a Dotti and stared. "My bike?" Carrie and Dotti looked at each other and just grinned. Dotti couldn't help but be pleased with the whole situation. They had been contacted by the delivery company while Allie was in the shower. Dotti had talked to the company rep on the phone. It had been her idea to specify the kind of delivery man to bring the bike to the loft. The last touch was very nice, even if she did say so herself... Just about then the buzzer to the loft door sounded. Allie jumped up and headed for the monitor followed by several Knighties. As the monitor faded up she could see a very cute messenger standing in front of the camera. "Delivery for Allison Perky," the messenger said to the camera. Carrie snickered and was promptly slapped in the shoulder by Dotti, who grinned but managed to remain silent. The other Knighties giggled a little at the name. Allie could be VERY perky, but she most decidedly was NOT, right at the moment. "Toast," Allie said under her breath, "he's toast." She reached up and hit the release button and then the mic button. "Come on up, second floor. Use the elevator." Everyone stepped back, not only to give the messenger room to enter the loft but to give Allie, the truly Red Knightie, room to fume. The sound of the elevator motor engaging was met by silence, except for the continuing soft clatter of Marg's knitting needles and the quiet strains of the "Suite from the Queen of Harps" coming from Nick's stereo. The elevator slid open and Gary Davies stepped into the loft. Well, not Gary Davies, but an identical twin anyway. This guy was cute, and he was smiling. Wouldn't you smile if you were being oogled by a large group of women who all looked as if they'd undress you given the opportunity? "Which one of you is Allison?" he asked. They all pointed to the Red one standing in their midst. "I'm Allison PERCY," she made sure to emphasize the last name. The young blond cutie smiled at her. "Sorry, note says Perky. Didn't mean to offend." "Oh, that's alright, sweetie," Dotti chimed in. "It's nothin'." Carrie giggled, the other Knighties murmur in tones that indicated their enjoyment of the situation and Allie, well Allie was getting redder... as if that shade wasn't working for her already. Allie put on her best, 'You're all toast if you don't pipe down instantly' look and glared at the room. She then turned to the messenger. "You have something for me?" "Yeah, it's downstairs. Will you sign here, please?" He produced a little clipboard. "Isn't that cute," Nancy said, "a baby clipboard. It wants to grow up and be a real clipboard someday." The room broke into laughter and not even Allie's glare could quiet the merriment. The messenger paled, slightly. The blush on his face very nearly matched Allie's shade and looking over at Dotti, Carrie could tell she had had the same thought. "Don't go there," Dotti whispered. They both giggled again as Allie handed the clipboard back to the messenger, who looked an awful lot like Gary Davies, especially when he smiled. "Where is it?" Allie asked, matter-of-factly. "I left it just inside the door, downstairs," he told her. "Come on. Let's go get it," Allie said to him. The two stepped into the elevator and disappeared from view as the door slid shut. Carrie and Dotti grinned at each other as the other Knighties talked amongst themselves. Most had seen Allie's beloved bike, but were curious to see how it fared in the kidnapping. Carrie had turned to Dotti to remark on just how cute the messenger was when she heard the exclamations from the other Knighties. Turning, she couldn't quite believe her eyes... Allie stepped into the loft wheeling in her bike. Well, it was obvious that at one time it HAD been her bike. It still did have a rack, to this was attached a box of Godiva (tm) chocolates, wrapped in red and gold paper. The wheels had red heart shaped reflectors snapped approximately two inches apart. There were fourteen reflectors in all, Nancy had counted them. The handle bars had been rewrapped in red tape and tassles had been added to the ends. Each tassle ended in a little red heart and pompom. The seat had been painted red and a bright red fringe had been applied around the circumference. The whole bike had been painted in multishade red stripes, zebra patterned. The clipless pedals had been replaced by bright red pedals with red buckle straps, pre-buckled. The crowning glory of the ensemble was the training wheels! Red, of course. The room disintergrated into hysterics. Even Sandra was snickering. Knighties were rolling on the floor, dropping out of chairs, onto chairs, into each other.... Well, you get the picture. Nancy finally caught her breath. "Well, look at it this way, Allie. You could have a wonderful career in the delivery business yourself, especially on Valentine's day." "She won't have to worry about skinned knees either," Carrie managed to get out. "TOAST! YOU GUYS ARE ALL TOAST!" was all Allie had to say on the matter. ... plotline to be continued in "Someone is Toast" ********************************************************************* Someone is Toast (1/1) by Allison Percy, with input from Carrie "The Giggler" Krumtum, Marg "We Don't Litter in Canada" Yamanaka, and misc. other Knighties Nick's loft, 11:30pm, Thursday, August 8 Now showered and dressed in the most un-red clothing she had, Allie began methodically pulling each tassle and pom-pom off her much-abused bike. She removed the heart-shaped reflectors and then, standing up and moving across the room, opened the window and threw them out into the loft's parking lot one by one. Katherine moved over the the window to watch, and saw an unsuspecting Knightie heading toward the door and into the path of the heart- shaped, reflective missiles. She leaned out the window to issue a warning. "Incoming!" The Knightie below looked up, saw the bits of plastic heading out the window and shattering on the pavement below, and beat a hasty retreat. Marg rushed over to the window to complain about the littering (a serious crime in Canada, eh?), but she noticed that the Knightie in the parking lot had already found a broom and had begun sweeping up the broken plastic and depositing it in the appropriate recycling bin. Marg smile to herself -- the Knightie below, while too far away to identify from this height, was *undoubtedly* a Canadian. After getting most of the decorations off her bike, Allie realized that a new paint job would have to wait for another day. More pressing matters demanded all their attention. She gathered a few Knighties who seemed eager to help her wreak some vengeance and began to work out a retaliation plan. Carrie got right to the point. "OK, Allie, who did this to you? We were worried sick when you didn't come back to the loft last night." Allie shook her head. "It was a Merc, I'm sure of that, because I vaguely remember waking up and hearing a couple of Mercs talk about payment for the job." "Payment?" Maryann asked. "What type of payment?" "A Toronto Trek flyer," the now pale pink Knightie replied. Lynn pondered this for a moment. She knew that Allie had headed over to the convention a couple of times, once just after finishing the charity bike tour on Friday night (coming home plastered and telling tales of Trekkies dressed as Klingons dancing the Macarena). The second time she had gone over was Sunday morning, returning with a mysterious, large, oddly-shaped package strapped to the back of her bike. The package sat in a corner of the loft right now and Allie refused to discuss it or tell anyone what was in it, saying simply that it would be brought out for the end-of-War party and not before then. "So the person who hired the Merc was probably at Toronto Trek. Any more clues?" Lynn asked. "The flyer was signed by Nigel Bennett and Kathryn Long." Lynn furrowed her eyebrows. "Aren't those the two actors who look just like Lacroix and Divia?" "Precisely." Allie looked over the group. "And this can mean just one thing." Carrie nodded. "Cousins. It was one of the Cousins." Maryann chipped in, "But which one?" Allie pulled out a crumpled red note. "This is my only other clue." She read the note aloud. I recently read that (Gents Mag. pt 2 700 [Ireland]), "A red haired woman, if met first in the morning, betokens something unlucky falling out during the day". For your sake, I hope that it's just a superstition. Carrie looked confused. "But that doesn't tell you much about who could have hired the Merc." "No," Allie admitted, "but this does." She held up the note for all to see, pointing at the small drawing at the bottom of the note. It was a smiley face. Lynn gasped. "Will. It's gotta be Will Steeves. He's the only Cousin who would even consider using a happy face on a note. And you mentioned that you saw him at Toronto Trek, dressed in a cape and a pair of shorts." The others nodded in agreement. Allie set the note aside and pulled out a notebook to take notes. "We've got some planning to do, then, if we're going to get back at Will before this War is over." The other Knighties nodded and began throwing out ideas and suggestions. Before long, the plan was hatched and the Knighties had scattered to acquire the items they would need to exact revenge on the Perky Cousin. Roses are red, But vengeance is sweet. Whether guilty or not, Poor Will should watch out! ... plotline to be continued in "Perkier Than Thou," to be posted sometime Sunday 8/11. P.S. The true perpetrator will have to drop less subtle hints if he/she wants to join in on all the fun. ********************************************************************* A nice friendly game of cards, anyone? (2/2) by Robbi Egersdorf with collaboration from Carrie Krumtum and the Knighties Time: Friday, August 8th -- starting sometime around midnight after Three Ring Circus (3/3) Place: Nick's loft Everyone was still soaking wet, but no one cared anymore. The rough edges and harsh feelings that had been a hallmark of the war were muted, if not gone all together. Two Natpackers cautiously approached Carrie and Dotti, who were standing in the corner discussing some deep subject. "Hi, I'm Linda Pierce and this is Mei Wa Kwong." Linda smiled a nervous smile. "I've always wanted to meet you, Carrie. No hard feeling for yesterday, huh?" There was no answer or even change of expression from Carrie. "Anyway," she continued, "we were wondering if you two and whoever else wanted to, would join us in an nice friendly game of hearts or spades." A wicked gleam shown in Carrie's eyes and it almost scared Linda, but she had been looking forward to this too long. "Yes, I think I would like that. I _really_ would like that. Let me talk to a few of our fellow Knighties and we can get started. I don't really like either of those games. Can we make it poker? I _really_ like poker. I'll see if we can borrow some of Janette's pennies to bet with. She won't mind." Mei and Linda cleared a table and got the chairs set up while Dotti and Carrie talked to several Knighties and to Janette. After a few minutes they returned with a cloth bag heavy with pennies and couple other Knighties. "Mei and Linda, this is Robbi Egersdorf and Nancy Taylor," Dotti introduced the newcomers. "Oh, yes. I've read a few of your stories and we talked some in e- mail," Robbi reached out and shook Mei's hand, "but I don't know Linda, here." Everyone made similar acknowledgment and they took their places at the table. "We were going to play hearts or spades, but Carrie wants to play poker. Are there any objections?" Mei asked. "I know a little about poker, but I'm not really sure what beats what in a hand," Robbi admitted a little sheepishly. "Well, wouldn't you know, I don't know much about poker myself? I think I know most of the hands and their rankings, but I've never actually played before," Nancy admitted. "Don't worry, you'll both be okay. We'll help you as we go along." Carrie took the deck that Linda offered her. "I think you should be the first to deal," Linda stated. Carrie shuffled the cards in a very professional manner, as if she had had training and practice in card dealing. Everyone's eyes got wide when they realized this. Dotti was next to be offered the cards "I'm not very good at dealing. Carrie, you deal for me." Carrie took the cards from Dotti, shuffled and dealt again. When it came Robbi's turn to deal, she asked, "Can Carrie deal for me too? I always bend the cards when I shuffle. I'd just rather not mess with it." Everyone was agreeable to this and Carrie dealt another hand. "Why don't we do this like they do in Las Vegas and just let Carrie deal every hand. I don't want to bother with dealing, either," Nancy added, so Carrie finished out the night as the dealer. Karen Tobin walked by, bumping Linda as she was about to take a swallow of her drink, spilling a quite a bit of it on her front. Karen attempted to brush the liquid from her clothes as it was quickly absorbed. "I'm so sorry, I guess I should look where I'm going." After many hours and hands, Linda having won them all there arose a cry of "Cheat, you have to be cheating to win every single time." Carrie was the first to call it, giving Karen the signal to make the phone call. When the officers arrived, Karen showed them to the table where a heated argument had broken out. Carrie looked up and saw them approach. Reaching into Linda's sleeve she pulled out several cards from the deck. "Officers, we caught this woman cheating at cards. I want her arrested for breaking the law." Linda looked at them in total innocence. "I wasn't cheating." "You mean this is what we were called here for? Cheating at cards? We can't arrest her for that. It's not against the law." The officer with dark curly hair shook his head. "Yes, it is and I can prove it. It may be an old law, but it's still a law. You have to do your duty and book her." Carrie insisted. "Just a minute." The other officer withdrew and had a conversation on the radio. When he returned, "Captain says to bring her in and book her. You're under arrest. You have the right to remain silent, anything you say can and will be used against you." Mei just stood there with her mouth hanging open at the turn of events. After they cuffed Linda and were taking her out the door, Carrie stopped them for one second, "No hard feelings." They cackled as they took her out the door. Carrie hadn't felt this good since she had walked in the loft the day before and found that Nick was upset after reading her stories. Now she had one more call to make to finish this little bit of revenge. --------------------------------------- After they fingerprinted Linda and took mug shots, she had been released. Captain Reese had felt that it would be ridiculous to hold her or even charge her. He said, "The judge'll laugh us out of court with this one." The next morning Linda was awakened early by a messenger and a nice little envelope. It had her name and address carefully written in a hand she didn't recognized. She remembered the envelope she had sent to Nick, with Carrie's stories and she paled. Slowly she opened the envelope, pulling out a copy of Saturday's Toronto Tribune and there in headlines above the not-so -flattering mug shots of herself, she read, "Woman arrested for cheating at cards." A note slipped out of the envelope. She picked it up and read: ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Linda: The best revenge is revenge. Now we're even. Have a nice day. With Love Carrie Krumtum ********************************************************************* The Set-Up by Perri Smith with Maryann Jorgenson and SciFi Marcia Takes place after Roses Are Red and So Is.... and before Three Ring Circus. Friday, 2 a.m. Nick's Loft No one was particularly surprised when the phone rang in the loft at 2 a.m. - it had been that kind of day. At least Allie wasn't red anymore... Perri (as usual) answered the phone. "What?" Okay, so she wasn't really a in a mood to be polite. She had cousins to kill. "Guess who." Perri sat down rather suddenly, drawing a few interested looks, including Nick's. "Jennie?" That got *everyone's* attention. "Yes, it's me. I, ah..." "So, you finally got my message," Perri said calmly (hanging onto 'cool' by the skin of her teeth; not easy, especially since twenty Knighties and a vampire were attempting to eavesdrop over her shoulder). "Yeah, something like that." Jennie cuddled her newly-restored NatMare to her chest, admiring the bright color. "We -- the Pack and Natalie - - think it's probably about time to, um..." "Come out of hiding?" Perri suggested helpfully. "Exactly. We thought we should meet somewhere, you know, neutral." "Define we." "All of us. Nick and the Knighties, Nat and us -- let everyone get it ovr with." Perri considered. "Hang on, Jennie." She put the phone on hold and stared at Nick, who'd been staring fixedly at her. "Nick, Natalie's ready to meet with you. With us." He nodded, his jaw clenching. "When and where?" Perri went back to the phone. "When and where?" "The Raven? Tomorrow... um, tonight?" Perri relayed the information to Nick and the strangely quiet Knighties. Nick thought, swallowed hard, then agreed. "You're on," Perri told Jennie. "We'll see you there." She hung up and turned to the others. "Looks like things are going to be interesting tomorrow night." "You know how word gets out about these things," Amy D pointed out. "Who knows who else will pop up?" "There are a few people we do *not* want to deal with at that time," Dotti reminded them. Maryann looked over to Cath for support. "I'm a Knightie first. So I have to admit that while I think that Jennie and the NatPack are on the up-and-up, there are certain members that won't want Nick anywhere near Nat." "It sounds like a trap," Sandra opined. A few more people agreed. "We're getting paranoid," Perri observed. "Just because you're paranoid...." Christine started. "Doesn't mean they're not out to get you, I know." Perri sighed. "We'll be careful going in. Just in case." ******* Jennie hung up the phone and stared at it, then picked it back up and dialed, again from memory. "The Raven." "Hi, Susan, it's Jennie." "So, you all are alive." Jennie blinked. "Why wouldn't we be?" "One does hear stories..." "Stories?" Jennie admired her bright orange hair. "What stories?" "Never mind. What's up?" "We need neutral ground to meet the Knighties. Canw e use the Raven tomorrow night? Um, tonight?" Susan sighed heavily. "Let me guess, you want us to shut the place down and let you all have free run of it, and drinks should be on the house." "Cool," Jennie bounced. "We're going to meet at nine. Thanks, Susan." She hung up before Susan could get another word out. ********************************************************************* WHEN THE MOOD STRIKES... by Valerie Meachum Time: 6:00 am Friday Place: The NatPack Hostel "Mommy. Mommy." Linda Rose wasn't certain which woke her first--J.D.'s deceptively quiet announcement that his whirlwind day had officially begun; or the soft whirr of a small machine somewhere in the hostel, mixed with the muted strains of Valerie's "Jekyll & Hyde" CD. "Is that a mixer?" she asked the bright-eyed toddler beside her, pulling herself out of bed and grabbing her robe. "You think someone's making pancakes?" But no one was in the kitchen. Quickly and efficiently she pulled together J.D.'s breakfast and started the coffee. It was a trifle too early to start cooking grownup breakfast--most of the 'Pack wouldn't be ambulatory for a while--and that sound continued intermittently, always accompanied by the CD and occasionally by Valerie quietly singing along. Keeping on eye on J.D., who looked to be contemplating what artistic creation he might be able to wreak with his cereal, Linda Rose located the source of the sound in a small corner room. "Valerie?" she asked, tapping lightly on the door. "Yeah?" "What are you doing?" "Sewing." "Sewing what?" "Suitable Raven attire." "Why?" "Because I wind up there underdressed every bloody single War, and I'm going to plan ahead this time. No Ravenettes snickering behind their hands at me!" Linda Rose chuckled at this. "Then you better not tell them you made it yourself. I don't think that quite fits their standards." "No kidding." The grin in her voice was evident. "Besides, with my luck they'll probably start putting in orders if they find out. And after dressing 22 Puritans for Crucible, I don't *wanna* sew for anybody else for a while." Considering this a moment, Linda Rose noted, "Well, sewing for Ravenettes *would* be a distinct change from sewing for Puritans." "Uh, yeah. Now where did I put that other bit of fishnet mesh...?" At that point Linda Rose decided it was best to leave her alone. At least it would keep her off the streets and out of trouble... ********************************************************************* Perkier Than Thou (1/2) by Allison Percy, with input from some Knighties and Cousin Will Location: near the 96th Precinct Time: 8am, Friday, August 9 Note: Despite the title of this story, it has nothing to do with Perkulators or Tracy. It's purely a personality thing. The carload of determined knighties staked out the area near the 96th Precinct. Carrie, behind the wheel of the Caddy, was starting to look somewhat less determined about the whole endeavor. "Allie, are you *sure* it's Will who hired that Merc?" Carrie looked very incredulous, but the formerly red, and now still somewhat pink Knightie in the passenger seat had clearly made up her mind. Allie started to list the clues again. "Cousin Will was at Toronto Trek, and the payment was in the form of a Toronto Trek flyer signed by Lacroix and Divia look-alikes. The note quoted a Gents magazine, and we're rather short on gents in FK fandom." Unhappy grumbles of agreement came from Dotti, Lynn M., and Katherine in the back seat. "Moreover, the note was signed with a *happy face,* and was accompanied by a box of Godiva (tm) chocolates." Carrie looked confused about that last bit, so Allie explained. "Will is a chocolate connoisseur. The first time I met him, he was enjoying a basket of gourmet chocolates given to him as a gift." Carrie furrowed her eyebrows as if disturbed by the rather long list of seemingly convincing clues. Just then the small plastic walkie-talkie Dotti was holding hissed. "Boom-Boom, Boom-Boom, come in Boom-Boom, this is Knightie Central." Maryann Jorgenson's voice sounded static-y despite the closeness of the loft to the precinct. Dotti grumbled to herself. Katherine rolled her eyes. "You know, you could have come up with a less obvious code name for yourself, Dotti!" Dotti pulled out an orange Nerf Bat and bopped Katherine into silence, then depressed the button on her walkie-talkie to respond. "Boom-Boom here, go ahead Knightie Central." "The vehicle in question has just made a pass through the loft parking lot. Your location is next on the itinerary." "OK, Knightie Central, Boom-Boom signing off." Now even Lynn was rolling her eyes at the code name. In the front seat, however, Allie was all business. "OK, gals, we've got just one chance at this. Carrie, pull the Caddy over into this little alley where he always turns around the car." Carrie complied grudgingly just before a dark sedan came around the corner. From within the car a voice called out commentaries. "Here it is! This is the Precinct! We were so excited when we found it! You see this building in every episode!" The car had come close enough to see that the figure driving it was wearing a black cape with a hood pulled up. A man with a buzz-cut sat in the passenger seat, craning his head out the window to look at the precinct. The man looked amazingly like Lacroix, but obviously couldn't be the nearly 2,000 year-old-vampire because the sun had risen in Toronto some time ago and the man showed no sign of smoking or bursting into flames. In the back seat was a young woman with glasses who was poking the driver in the back. "Will, turn here! Will, you missed the turn again! You always miss the turn and we always end up having to turn around in the alley!" She poked the driver in the back one more time just for good measure. Another figure lurked in the back seat -- a mysterious tall woman who sat quietly and smiled at the hooded figure in the driver's seat. The dark sedan had pulled close enough to the alley for the occupants of the Caddy, which sat in the shadows of the alley, to read the sign painted on the side of the car. "FK Filming Locations Tour," it read, "Just For Fun, Bring Only Your Camera and a Sense of Humour." The driver pulled back his hood to reveal a smiling, exuberant face. It was Perky Cousin Will, and despite his wrong turn he was just tickled pink to be leading another tour, this time with an *actor* in the passenger seat! Will's voice raised another octave as he apologized for the need to turn around in the alley. "Oh, I'm sorry everyone, this happens all the time. I'll just pull in here to turn around and we'll get back on track and over to the Coroner's Office next! :-) :-)" The smiley faces were clearly evident in his tone of voice. As the dark sedan pulled into the alley, the five Knighties in the Caddy leapt out and yanked open the door of the sedan. Lynn, Katherine, and Carrie pinned Cousin Will's arms behind his back and gagged him with duct tape as Dotti and Allie, wearing green plastic combat helmets, wielded their Nerf Bats menacingly at the occupants of the sedan. "I'd advise you all not to get involved," Allie told the three in the dark sedan. "You're not in this War, and if you say anything more it just might violate list rules." Allie looked very serious. "Violating list rules can get you in biiiiiiig trouble." The three in the sedan looked wide-eyed at the pinkish Knightie and remained still and silent as their driver was hustled into the Caddy and driven away. ... to be continued in "Perkier Than Thou (2/2)" ********************************************************************* Perkier Than Thou (2/2) by Allison Percy, with input from some Knighties and Cousin Will Location: outside CERK Time: 8:30am, Friday, August 9 Note: Despite the title of this story, it has nothing to do with Perkulators or Tracy. It's purely a personality thing. Carrie pulled the Caddy up to the curb outside CERK, the Cousinly HQ, and turned off the engine. She was obviously stewing over something, but Allie had other things on her mind. Allie took the keys from Carrie, hopped out of the car and opened the trunk. Inside the trunk, a wriggling, trussed-up Perky Cousin tried to say something. "Mmph! Mmmmmmmmph!" was all that could be heard through the duct tape covering Will's mouth. "Do you have something to say for yourself, Will?" The Cousin nodded his head frantically, his eyes pleading. Allie reached down and ripped the duct tape off of Will's mouth. "Ooooooooowwwwwwwwww!" Will shouted. The echoes of the cry of pain bounced off the brick of the CERK radio building. "That hurt!" Will quoted one of his favorite vampire's lines from 'Dark Knight.' "Whaddja do *that* for?" "You indicated that you had something to say." Allie crossed her arms and looked down at Will, staring daggers at the Cousin in the trunk. She beckoned to the Knighties in the Caddy, indicating that they should get to work completing their assigned tasks. Katherine, Dotti, and Lynn hopped out of the back seat, bringing some duffle bags with them. Dotti and Katherine got to work strapping a cassette player to Will's chest. Lynn pulled out a huge pile of smiley face stickers and began plastering them all over Will's clothing, on his cape, even on his legs (he was wearing shorts under the cape, stangely enough). "Wait, stop! Why are you doing all this to me! What did I ever do to you?" Will's voice was going up an octave or two again. "Red body paint. Training wheels. Temporary tattoos. 'Nuff said." Allie helped Lynn plaster a smiley face sticker to Will's hair. "I didn't do that! I don't even know who did that! And anyway, you haven't even explained to me yet why you hired that Merc to have me work on a documentary and wear the Evil Pink Shirt (tm)!" Will squirmed as Katherine inserted a tape labeled 'Don't Worry, Be Happy' in the cassette player which was now securely strapped to his chest. Dotti pushed the 'play' button briefly and very loud strains of an extremely happy song filled the air. Dotti turned it off and nodded her head at Allie, indicating that the tape player was ready to go. On the second floor of the CERK building, a window opened and a head popped out. Allie looked up, seeing a very grumpy-looking Lisa McDavid staring down at the street, then looked back down at Will disdainfully. "I didn't hire anyone to make you wear a pink shirt, evil or not. Fess up, Will. You know you did it. The chocolates, the Gents Magazine, the smiley face... you left all the clues. The Toronto Trek Flyer sealed your fate. Very soon, you're going to be dumped here on the street, covered with happy faces and strapped to a radio playing 'Don't Worry, Be Happy' at top volume. And the Cousins have a reputation for being rather grumpy at 8:30am -- even when one of their own is involved." "Nearly everyone likes chocolates! And you don't have to be a gent to read a Gents Magazine! And I still *have* my Toronto Trek flyer signed by Nigel Bennett and Kathryn Long!" Allie started to look unsure of herself. "You still have your flyer?" Will nodded and pointed downward with his nose (which had a small, fanged smiley face stuck on it), indicating the right front pocket of his shorts. Allie nodded to Dotti, who reached into the pocket and pulled out a folded booklet. She unfolded it, looked at it with raised eyebrows, and showed it to Allie. Allie narrowed her eyes and read the inscription on the Toronto Trek flyer. "For Will, Lots 'o Luv! -- Kathryn Long." The second autograph read, "To Will, When do I get my tour, Nigel Bennett." Allie gaped at Will. "You really didn't do it, did you?" Will gaped at Allie, "And you really didn't make me wear the Evil Pink Shirt, did you?" Both the perky Knightie and the perky Cousin shook their heads, indicating their respective innocence of the attacks. Allie gave Will a quick hug and began freeing him from his bonds, shouting to the others to peel off all the smiley faces. In the front seat of the car, Carrie's shoulders dropped and she sighed in relief. Just then, a small crowd of very grumpy-looking Cousins wandered out of the front door of CERK, led by a bleary-eyed Lisa McDavid. Allie looked over at the group, then quickly slammed the Caddy's trunk closed and jumped into the car, followed by the other Knighties. "Drive, Carrie, Drive!" The Caddy screeched down the street. Allie looked intensely guilty as she covered her ears to drown out the sound of Will pounding against the inside of the trunk. "C'mon guys, let me out!" came Will's muffled cries. Carrie continued to drive, knowing that they had to put some distance between themselves and the CERK headquarters before they could let Will out -- he was, after all, still half-covered with smiley faces. Grumpy Cousins hated smiley faces. Katherine spoke up from the back seat. "You don't think Will is claustrophobic, do you?" Allie started banging her head against the dashboard. She accidentally turned on the Caddy's radio. A re-run of an old Nightcrawler monologue was playing on CERK this morning. The Nightcrawler was, of course, talking about guilt. Lynn shook her head. "Just what we needed right now -- CERK, all radio self-flagellation, all the time." Allie buried her face in her hands and vowed to send Will a present to make up for her mistake. -fin- P.S. If you're really confused (and who isn't in a War?), the real culprit was revealed in "Hiring Mercs, 101" by Carrie Krumtum. And she's toast, by the way. ********************************************************************* White Chocolate and Victorian Cheesecake by Diane Echelbarger, unaffiliated Jennie Hayes and Karen Weston used with permission (Author's note: this a sequel to "Pictures of Times Past", which is a sequel to "What Time Is It, What Day Is It, What Fandom Is It? pt 2", neither of which have been posted yet. I'm waiting for permission to use people, but wanted to give the person I'm counter-attacking time to respond, so I'm posting this now. The other two will go out as soon as the other people in them get back to me.) Friday, August 9, 9:30am NatPack Headquarters Karen Weston answered the knock on the door. A delivery man with "Speedy Courier" printed on his cap smiled at her. "Natalie's Bed and Breakfast?" he inquired politely. Karen frowned slightly, then nodded. He handed her a large flat envelope and a clipboard. "Sign here, please." She signed, and he departed. As she closed the door, she glanced down at the envelope in her hand. It was for Jennie Hayes, and there was no return address. University of Toronto Chemistry Dept, 15 minutes later A delivery man (who would have been instantly recognized by Natalie, to whom he had delivered a package in War4) approached Jennie where she was bent over a Liquid Gas Chromatograph. "Jennie Hayes?" "Yes?" She put down the sample-loaded syringe. "Sign here, please." She signed, and he handed her a small box, about six by eight inches square and one inch deep, and departed. Curious, she unwrapped the parcel and found a box from Chocolate Caper, the truly decadent confectionary only minutes from Diane E's home town. Cautiously, using forceps and protective gear, she opened the box. Inside was a piece of paper, folded in half. Printed on the front in large, clear letters were the words "You could have trusted me...." Still using the forceps, she unfolded the paper. The interior said, still in the same able-to-be-read-even-without-your-glasses type, "Now you know how I felt last War! Diane E." With unabated caution, she removed the paper from the box. It was full of white chocolate truffles, the only kind of chocolate Jennie could eat. Before Jennie could decide if her friend would be angry enough to commit the near-sacrilege of adulterating Chocolate Caper chocolates, another messenger entered the room. When the sign-and-handover procedure was completed yet again, Jennie was left with a plain manilla envelope. She opened it cautiously, and slid the contents out. It was another envelope, white this time, with the following inscription: "The orginal has already been delivered. D.E." Suddenly uneasy, Jenny upended the thing over the lab bench. A color xeroxed copy of a photograph fluttered out. A photograph of herself, in the Victorian bathing dress Diane had made her for the Rose Festival several years ago. The navy-blue cotton bodice hugged her generous curves and minimized her waist, the short pantaloons stopped just below the knee, and her calves were encased in and accentuated by demure white stockings. She was posed in the grotto at the Boerner Botanical Gardens, smiling flirtatiously at the camera while pretending to dip one stocking-clad foot in the stream in front of her. And over this decidedly racy (by Victorian standards) image was inscribed, in vivid white ink, "To Screed-- Hugs and kisses, Jennie". ********************************************************************* You Never Heard Of Ubangiba? By Diane Echelbarger & Sarah Chodrow, unaffiliated Toronto Memorial Hospital, Room 417, ICU Friday, 8/9, 9:48am "So it should be delivered by now," Sarah finished. Diane smiled at her. "Good. Oh, and I wanted to return this to you." She handed Sarah the silver mezuzah. "Thanks for the loan." She was about to add something else when the door to her room opened and Annie, the student nurse, entered. "Here's Dr. Wetmore to see you, Bunny," she said. "*What* did you call me?" Diane demanded. She checked her wristband. Sure enough, it said 'Bunny Echelbarger.' Sarah just stared. "Her name," Dr. Wetmore stated as he entered the room, "is Diane." "But-- her records say Bunny, Doctor." The student offered him the chart. He glanced at it, strode to the other, empty bed in the room and pressed the call button. Maxine appeared a moment later. "Can I-- Dr. Wetmore?" "Get your shift supervisor in here," he told her. "Now." Maxine took one look at his face and disappeared with all due speed. A moment later, the head nurse appeared. "Is something wrong, Dr. Wetmore?" "Mrs. Davis," he replied crisply. "I personally assisted Ms. Chodrow to complete the forms for Ms. Echelbarger's admission thirteen days ago. She was identified by her driver's license and medical power of attorney as *Diane*. Why is she listed as 'Bunny'?" Mrs. Davis was obviously wondering what *else* could go wrong with this patient. "The-- the computer lists her that way, Doctor." "Then those idiots in admissions have made yet *another* mistake," he snarled back. Diane thought. Bad enough the innocent Nurse's Aide from last night would lose her job; she didn't want the admitting people on her conscience, too. "They misspelled it," she said quickly. "What?" All four people turned to stare at her. She smiled nervously and glanced at the wristband again. Suddenly, a line from the latest Mrs. Pollifax novel flashed into her mind, and she ad-libbed frantically. "It's pronounced Boon-hee, and it's-- Ubangiban! My parents were missionaries there." "But it's spelled B-U-H-N-I and I stopped using it because everybody mispronounced it, and now I use my middle name, Diane, on *everything*--" she paused for breath-- "And your admitting department must be really, really good if they could dig that out of my files, because I haven't used it in at *least* twenty years...." She had to stop to breath, and just stared at the astonished hospital personnel with her best wide-eyed innocent expression. She didn't look at Sarah, who she suspected was fighting back laughter. "I-- see," the doctor replied after a moment's awkward silence. "Well, Mrs. Davis, perhaps you could update our files with this information?" "Certainly, doctor," the head nurse agreed with obvious relief. "I'd really appreciate it if you could list me as B. Diane," the patient added, pushing her luck, "because none of my friends know me as Buhni, so they'd ask for Diane..." "I think we can arrange that," the nurse agreed, grateful to avoid another calamity. "See to it." Dr. Wetmore dismissed her with a nod, and turned back to his patient. "And how are you feeling this morning, Ms. Echelbarger? I see your honor guard is here." He smiled charmingly at Sarah. "Ms. Chodrow spent almost as much time at your side during your coma as Ms. Soward." "She did?" Diane glanced at Sarah, who pointedly avoided meeting her eyes. By the time Dr. Wetmore finished his exam and left, fifteen minutes later, Diane was a nervous wreck. "Wow!" Sarah said as soon as the door closed, "You lie *good*." Then she added, "It *was* a lie, wasn't it?" "Of course it was!" Diane protested. "And I usually can't lie for beans; I don't know where all that came from!" "Well, you sounded very convincing," Sarah assured her, and started to giggle. Diane resisted for a second, then joined in, and the two friends laughed themselves breathless at the thought of Diane as "Buhni Echelbarger, daughter of fearless Ubangiban missionaries." ********************************************************************* Lurking no more... By Immortal Beloveds/Ravenettes Melanie and Felicia (KnightCat5 & AriCon @aol.com) Time: sometime in the afternoon on Friday She had been busy watching the war go by and busily trying to learn the rules of a WAR (with a great deal of help from the fearless leader of the Immortal Beloveds, Felicia). All the while she had been furiously taking notes on the activities of the different factions, and helping to redecorate The Raven one too many times. Finally she had had enough, and Felicia could see it in her eyes. Melanie had gotten up early this particular morning, and had set her mind to actively participating in the war. Felicia, trying to keep an eye on her fledgling IB Warrior, had been watching Melanie and answering her often random questions. But this morning was different. Melanie was long gone before Felicia and most of the IB Warriors and Raven/ettes had even thought about getting up. When she returned much later that afternoon, she came bounding into The Raven looking for Felicia. She found her leaning against the bar and reviewing the wine list. "Felicia!" She looked up, startled at first, but glad to see her fledging had returned, and in one piece. You got used to _not_ taking these things for granted in Wartime, Felicia reflected ruefully. "Melanie, where have you been? We've needed some help around here you know. Cynthia and Susan can't do everything all the time," she said a trifle snippily--- regardless of the fact that 'memorizing the wine list' didn't look like any helpful activity that she could name, Melanie noted, somewhat distracted. She didn't mind the snippiness all _that_ much; it seemed to be a sort of game the Immortal Beloveds played with each other, almost an initiation. Melanie grinned widely at Felicia w/ an almost intoxicated look in her eyes. Felicia eyed her suspiciously and grinned a little herself. Slowly she said, quirking a brow in suspicion, "Oh lord, *what* have you done now?" Even more suspicious now as the full force of Melanie's sudden change in attitude sunk in--- and all the things that it _might_ mean--- went rushing through Felicia's head at once. "And is it something that is going to require me shelling out a lot of money to bail you out of jail?" the fraction leader demanded of her somewhat errant, willful protege; who, up until then had been a docile, reasonably obedient (for an Immortal Beloved) observer of Wartime Toronto social customs. The anthropologist of the group, in a way. Grinning even wider (if that was possible), Melanie replied, "I did it Felicia, I took part in the war and it feels great!" Slowly, Felicia started to grin from ear to ear herself. "I kinda had a feeling it would," was all she said. With that Melanie grabbed Felicia's hand and pulled her out to her car. Together they drove out to N&NPack headquarters. "Mel, you're starting to scare me a little now," Felicia said, running a finger nervously under the edge of her choker. "Oh, just wait and see," Melanie carolled happily. "I _promise_ you a surprise that you'll like." Melanie stopped her Civic abruptly right in front of the headquarters careful not to get close enough to trip the sensors, and started laughing. Felicia looked curiously at her and asked, "What are we doing here of all places and why are you laughing?" Melanie then got out of her car and pointed across the street. Felicia got out and looked in the direction Melanie was pointing and began to laugh herself. Stretched between two telephone poles across the street from N&NPack HQ, there was a re-creation of the banner they flew over Toronto. However, there was a slightly new twist--- now the bold black type read "Janette & Nick - In Strength And Passion There is Forever." Then Melanie pointed to the sky...the new motto was being written in the sky by several planes so *everyone* in Toronto would see it.... ********************************************************************* Preparing For The Circus by Laura MacMillan, Rebecca and the N&NPack Aug 9/96 9:00 p.m. Laura paced impatiently. It was getting late and not everyone was ready yet, having thirty-two people share two bathrooms took it's toll on a night like tonight. She definitely did not want to be late for the meeting at the Raven between Nick and Nat. She was relieved that she still had a few friends that were willing to share vital info, like tonight's meeting, with her. Finally Kris, the last of the N&NPack left the house and piled into the back seat of the last van, between Kelly and Melissa. Laura sat in the passenger's seat on the first of five vans trying to figure out exactly how to keep the peace between the Natpack and the Knighties. Suddenly the sound sof silliness rang through the van as Rebecca led the N&NPack in song. Just sit right back and you'll hear a tale, a tale of an angst-filled vamp. He was brought across in '28, in medieval France. Brabant, a might crusader, he met the belle Janette She took him to her master who wanted a new pet, a thing he'd soon regret. The killing really got him down, his conscience, it was tossed. If not for the courage of the coroner, Nicholas would be lost, Nicholas would be lost. The cast set ground on the shore of this uncharted desert isle, with Nicholas, Natalie too, his partner and J. Vachon, Lucien Lacroix, and the rest Here on Nicholas' Isle. So this is the tale of our castaways, they're here for a long, long time. They'll have to make the best of things, it's an uphill climb. Natalie and Nicholas too, will do their very best, to make the others comfortable in the tropic island nest. No bar, no loft, no slaughterhouse, not a single luxury. Like Robinson Crusoe, it's primitive as can be. So join us here each week my friend, you're sure to get a smile, >From seven stranded castaways, Here on Nicholas' Isle! Within half an hour they had reached the Raven. Laura was eager to see both Nick and Nat. She looked over at the N&NPack. Everyone was dressed very nicely, although she expected no less considering how long it took them to get ready. Idalia heard Laura mumble something about not having enough time. Before they could enter the Raven, Chana stopped them. She signalled to John and Mel who approached the front of the group each carrying a large box. Chana opened the box and pulled out a designer N&NPack leather jacket, complete with the N&NPack logo an