Sharon marvelled at how much the actual precinct looked like the set for the precinct they'd used in the last war as she made her way over toward Nick's and Tracy's desks.

It was literally the middle of the night, and the room was pretty much deserted. The officer at the desk had checked her ID and waved her through without a second glance, even being so kind as to point her to Detective Vetter's computer. Of course, it helped to be wearing a windbreaker for Twilight Computer Repair Co. and carrying a large tool kit.

Not that she'd need any equipment for this little "repair job," she thought with a smile. Nope, just a few disks and a small hidden speaker. With all that Susan had told her about the ineptitude police officers often displayed toward computer equipment, this little prank was assured to last for some suitable, irritating duration.

She worked quickly, aware that either Nick or Tracy might show up at any moment. She'd never met Tracy, but Nick would probably recognize her.

Lifting the monitor off and placing it on the desk, she pulled a screwdriver out of her pocket and quickly removed the cover from the computer. Placing the speaker carefully inside, and hooking it up to its card, she replaced the cover.

Then, she sat down in Tracy's chair and booted up the computer. Glancing over her shoulder to make certain no one was paying undue attention to her, she pulled out several disks. One contained the WAV file that she'd digitized and the other held the program that her friend Kirk had written for her.

It was a pretty obnoxious program, Sharon thought as she held the disk in her hand and looked down at it, just before slipping it into the drive and pulling the keyboard toward her. A few keystrokes and it was loaded. It wouldn't take a genius to figure out and disable what she'd done, but someone with even an average competence with computers would be entirely clueless.

Switching the computer off, she rose, giving it an affectionate pat as she pulled the disk out of the disk drive. With another glance around the squad room, she casually walked out, waving as she passed the officer at the desk who had been so kind to her earlier. He barely glanced up at her, and she doubted he'd be able to give anyone a good description of her if anyone were to ask.

Tracy stumbled into the precinct, idly noting that Nick ducked off quickly somewhere, probably to go to the bathroom, and stumbled over toward her desk. She was not adjusting at all well to the night shift, and often found herself dragging during the wee hours of the night, just before the end of the shift.

Which was paperwork time, guaranteed to make her even sleepier than she already was. Sinking into her desk chair she dropped her head into her hands and gently massaged her temples, pushing aside several pink buttons that she didn't remember leaving on her desk. On top of everything else she had the beginnings of a pounding headache. Nick walked over and dropped several files onto her desk. When she didn't respond he leaned down and said, "Detective Vetter, are you in the mood to do some work, or should I put in a call to Sven, my friend the masseuse?"

Tracy lifted her head and glared at him as he sat down and smirked at her, briefly visualizing what a small hatchet imbedded into his forehead would look like. Then she reached over and flipped the power switch for her computer.

While it was booting up, she reached into her pocket and pulled out her notebook, flipping it open to the notes she'd taken earlier at their latest crime scene.

The report form was up on her computer, and Tracy swiveled in her chair to face the monitor, and reached out to tab to the first field.

"I'm a good cop!" said a loud, happy, feminine voice.

Tracy glanced up abruptly at Nick, who was looking at her with a mixture of mild surprise and amusement. "What did you say?" she asked sharply.

"Nothing," Nick shrugged, looking back down at his notes.

Tracy sighed, and turned back to her work. She pressed the shift key, prepared to begin filling in the form.

"I'm a good cop!" came the voice again.

This time, Tracy narrowed her eyes, and looked suspiciously at the computer in front of her. Experimentally, she tapped the space key.

"I'm a good cop!"

She pressed it again.

"I'm a good cop!"

Only a few people were in the squad room at this hour, but she heard a few quiet snickers from behind her, and noticed that Nick was grinning impishly at her.

"Very funny, Knight," she said disgustedly.

Now he feigned wide-eyed innocence. "I had nothing to do with it."

"Uh-huh," Tracy replied, noting the corners of his mouth starting to creep up.

"Really," he said.

She sighed, grabbing the mouse to shut down the program.

"I'm a good cop!" sounded when she pressed the left mouse button.

"You did this," she accused, more than a little irritated. "And it's not funny! How'm I supposed to get my reports done?" She sounded petulant and she knew it. But she didn't care. She was tired, her head hurt, and Nick's constant teasing was beginning to wear a little thin.

"Vetter!" she heard Reese call from behind her. Twisting quickly she accidentally hit the keyboard with her elbow.

"I'm a good cop!"

Behind her, Nick made a slight strangled noise as Reese's gaze hardened. "I want the write-ups on the Jenkin's case into the computer before you leave," he said. "No matter what! That goes for the two of you!"

With a sigh she turned and hit the keyboard absently.

"I'm a good cop!"

"Oh, shut up!" she said disgustedly, looking expectantly at Nick.

He feigned a wounded expression for a moment. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but didn't you just accuse me of this little joke? And now you want to use my computer? How am I going to get my reports done?"

"Fine, fine!" she said, attempting to be dismissive. "I'll just use soneone else's." She was just starting to rise from her chair when Nick cleared his throat. "What now?" she asked.

"Passwords."

Tracy glared at him for a moment, then nodded thoughtfully, almost in resignation. "You're right," she said. "When life hands you lemons, you make lemonade. I'll just have to make the most of this bad situation."

With that she sat back down and started to type.

"I'm a good cop!"

"I'm a good cop!

"I'm a good cop!"

"I'm a . . ."

The posts only trickled in, at first. One or two messages asking if the web site was down again, or if something was wrong with a particular story. Soon, however, there were over a dozen of them in Darkangel's email box, all wondering what had happened to her FK fiction page and if it would be fixed in the near future, each letter more frantic than the last.

For some of those who had decided to sit out the War that would be starting soon, the fiction stored on the web site would be practically all they could get for the next three weeks, and they weren't too happy to discover it had suddenly vanished without a trace.

War...that could be the answer. Her suspicions aroused, she called up the page to see for herself what was going on. It came up just fine, no problem there. She selected a category and waited for the titles to load. They looked all right so far...

Wait. Something was not quite the way she remembered it. It took her a few moments, but she finally noticed that a small number appeared beside each title. Curious, she clicked on one of the stories.

The expected story didn't show up. In its place, her screen filled with a series of characters and symbols. They seemed vaguely familiar--a computer language? Once she realized that, she recognized it as a fragment of assembly source code. What could it mean?

She thought back to the numbers that had been added to each title. If every story had been replaced by part of a program, perhaps she was expected to assemble the segments together. The numbers could indicate the proper sequence.

It wouldn't hurt to try. She gathered all the sections together and compiled the program. Her screen went black, and against the blank background the image of a pair of coins emerged. No, not coins...upon closer inspection, they were tokens. Chuck E Cheese tokens, to be exact.

Jennie put down the phone. "That was it - the deed is done. Jake says he's filled all the cars at PartlyK's house with pink buttons and covered them all with a nice protective coating of contact paper. He got away with no incident, although he says he needed a little extra glue on some of the contact paper."

"That's good," Amy replied. "And I heard back from Adolf. He says Scottie should see the light - or lack thereof - this morning. He's bricked all her windows and doors shut, and the work had set nicely by 4am so it's solid. He checked and it was still intact. She can't get out without help, unless she keeps some major power tools in there. And best of all, there are a set of 'blond' colored bricks in the front door that spell out the word 'IS.' Really nice work. He took a picture of it for us!"

"Elaine, did those 'friends' of yours from the University take care of Perri? We don't want her to miss out on this!" Jennie grinned wickedly as she said this.

"Yep, all the power and phone lines to Perri's house have been cut in at least two places. It's going to be days before they locate and fix all the damage. And they left the brick in front of the door, nice and large and noticeable." Elaine giggled.

"And Sandra's got a little surprise waiting for her at her local cable company, courtesy of Egg and Julio," Sharon added. "So the Knighties should be well and truly alerted."

"Good! Now, how about the Cousins and Ravenettes? There's at least one Ravenette whose 'surprise' is on its way," Jennie gloated.

"And we've got Cousin Candice taken care of," GT reported, "not to mention darling Jamie who could have been a Natpacker if she'd made the right decision, although they won't get their surprises until tomorrow."

"And the others are also being taken care of," Sharon mentioned, waving her hand at the phone, "Guido and Dirk have been busy too, among other people."

"And I sent the appropriate information from the database to everyone who was taking care of calling card distribution for us," Jennie said.

"So now what do we do?" Selma asked, "Sit back and wait for something to happen?"

"Oh, no, I was thinking that, since it's the night before Halloween, we should go someplace truly scary. What could be scarier than the Raven, with it's new decor?" Valerie purred. "I was thinking we should enhance that decor a bit, bring back a little style." She carefully held up a white rose.

"Oh, that's evil. You know how those things make LaCroix go all maudlin over Fleur. I love it!" Amy exclaimed. "But how can we go there without being recognized?"

"We dress like we belong, of course!" Valerie explained. "I'm already disguised, with this black hair, and we can add a fall to yours, say give it some blond streaks...yes...come on, let's see what we can do!"

"Umm...if you don't mind, I'd really rather sit this one out..." Selma said, "I think someone needs wait for something to happen."

"This is it. Now, I don't think we'll be recognized," Betsy said, a little nervously, "but what do we do if we are?"

"Get out any way we can, of course. Even LaCroix doesn't want to attract a lot of attention so we should be able to get away if we're desperate enough," Jennie answered. "Although I would be grateful if you all would try to think of diversions while you watch for trouble." The group presented quite a picture. Gone were their normal clothes, hairstyles and makeup. They'd been replaced by lots of black leather, denim, and unusual styles. For them, at least.

"Are you sure this is gonna stay?" Amy asked, shaking her head. The white streak hanging over her eyes flopped back and forth.

"It will if you don't keep shaking your head like that," Valerie and Jennie retorted simultaneously.

They steeled themselves and slipped in, in small groups, then began setting the roses, pastel ribbons and bows and other romantic knick knacks they'd brought with them all over the room.

Jennie noticed Jill making her way to the back, where LaCroix's booth was. After allowing herself a worried frown, she turned back to the work at hand, but Valerie grabbed her arm, steering her towards a different section of the back of the club.

"Hey, Hannibal, check out the tank in there," she said, in an astonishingly good imitation of Murdock.

"Oh, I get it, that's why you gave Sharon all those necklaces. Cute, real cute. I guess it works--" Jennie began, but then she spied the "tank" Valerie was talking about. It was more of a bowl, actually. And it held what could only be LaCroix's goldfish, Spike.

"I was thinking of taking out a little in-sur-ance," Valerie crooned.

Jennie gave Sharon the high sign and pointed to Amy. "I think she'll have what we need." They all converged on Amy at once.

"This is awful," Amy said between gasps when they approached her, "There's so much smoke!"

"Hey, Triple-A, do you have anything in your bag that resembles this piece of Tupperware?" Jennie pulled the container in question out and opened it a bit. "Perfect. Just what we needed. And I'll need your bag of goldfish crackers, too. Are they the original garlic flavor?"

"Mm-hmm," Amy said between gasps.

"Thanks. We owe ya. Sharon, see that door there? We need to slip in, like inconspicuously. Think we can do that?"

"Of course. I ain't no slacker." Sharon seemed to be taking her part to heart as well. Jennie rolled her eyes.

"Let's go, then! Amy, don't even try to do anything. Just keep breathing."

The three managed to make their way into the office without detection.

"Quick, pour him in here." Jennie opened the container all the way, and the other two managed the maneuver fairly well, although they got water all over the desk and floor in the process.

The fish looked none the worse for wear in his new home. Jennie snapped the lid on tightly. "OK, now empty out the rest of the water into that plant, and pour these in the bowl." She handed the bag of crackers to Valerie.

"You got it, chief." Valerie took the precaution of wiping the bowl dry before adding the crackers.

"This is a stupid plan," Sharon groused. "He's gonna smell the garlic from out there before we can make our getaway!"

Valerie solved the problem, at least some of it, by depositing a small plant over the rim of the bowl, effectively capping it. "Now let's make a break for it!" she said.

The other two nodded and made their way out. Heading back towards Amy, Jennie saw that she was having even more trouble and the gasping had turned into uncontrollable coughing. She was, unfortunately, beginning to attract attention.

"We need to get you out of here, fast," Jennie said, slipping the fish back into Amy's bag unobtrusively as she reached her. "Be careful not to jostle the bag too much."

Amy didn't have the breath to answer, but all of a sudden her hair came tumbling down. "See..." Amy began to say, but another fit of coughing stole her breath away.

Jennie saw LaCroix, out of the corner of her eye, heading towards them. A small part of her mind was amused to note that Jill stood behind him, apparently mesmerized at the sight of him. "Come on, we've gotta go now!" She and GT each grabbed an arm and all but dragged Amy out the door.

GT sneaked a glance backwards as they cleared the doorway. LaCroix didn't appear to be chasing them anymore; instead, he'd stopped and was staring, transfixed, at a single white rose adorning the table nearest the door. She didn't wait around to question his inaction, though. Elaine and Amparo joined them, and they sped off down the street to Jennie's waiting car.

Hiding in the shadows, Jill watched as LaCroix stalked out of the broadcast booth - leaving the door open behind him. "Sucker," she whispered to herself. No one noticed as she slipped into the booth and locked the door, shoving a chair up under the knob for good measure.

Throwing open her backpack, she pulled out a stack of tapes she'd carted up and slid several into waiting players, hitting the pause buttons. "I knew my undergrad major would come in handy - just didn't know it would be for this," she muttered as she flipped the necessary knobs, lowered the mike to her level, and yanked out the cart that LaCroix had left playing.

Sharon and Leslie exchanged bemused looks as they watched LaCroix stare at the rose. He seemed to remember himself after a bit and headed out the front door, but by then the five escapees must have been long gone, since he turned his attention back to the rose and stood outside, his mind obviously elsewhere. Betsy urgently grabbed Sharon's arm and pointed back at Jill, who was pulling things out of her bag and taking her place in the broadcasting booth at the back. Sharon sneaked a glance at LaCroix, who looked like he'd be out of it for awhile, then shrugged. "You gotta admire her nerve," was her only comment, as she returned to the finishing touches on the decorations, keeping herself out of LaCroix's direct line of sight, just in case he returned to the present.

"Good evening, gentle listeners. I'm coming to you live from the Raven, which is currently being...redecorated. Our first selection tonight is one that's very special to everyone here, and I'm sure to many of you." Strains of "My Favorite Things" began to echo through the Raven.

Jill yanked the cart out of the deck, cutting the song off just as Julie Andrews was about to sing about barking dogs. "That's about all anyone can take of that song. Now, in honor of the new Raven and the new LaCroix, here's one of my personal favorites. Let's get naked - not!" As she released the pause button, Adam Ant began singing the chorus: "We're just following ancient history, if I strip for you, will you strip for me?"

Adam Ant stopped stripping mid-verse. "We just have so much to play tonight!" Jill surveyed the room. "It appears that the A-Team is being extremely effective in their efforts - if all you listeners could only be here to share in the joy of recreating our favorite night spot. And now, for all the survivors of War Four..." The sounds of "Purple People Eater" filled the room.

"Here's the theme song for several factions, and a darn good sing-along from 'Show Boat.' " Jill slipped in another cart. "Fish gotta swim and birds gotta fly, I gotta love one man 'till I die, can't help lovin' that man of mine..." Unable to help herself, Jill danced around the booth, singing along. Luckily, the booth was soundproof.

As the first strains of the song from 'Show Boat' began to fill the room, Leslie noticed signs that LaCroix was beginning to come out of it. She looked frantically around the room, and spied a fire alarm on the wall near her. All at once, the vampire seemed to notice what was happening with his club. Leslie grabbed the handle of the alarm and pulled just as he came flying in, headed straight for the booth and Jill. Pandemonium broke loose, as not only did the alarm go off, but the sprinklers did as well.

The Raven was complete chaos - people running everywhere, water streaming down from the sprinklers. It was the perfect cover for Jill to slip out of the broadcast booth, jimmying the door shut behind her. She looked around breathlessly for Leslie.

"Jill! C'mon!" yelled Leslie from the doorway. "We've got to get to the airport!" Jill ran over to her, avoiding several screaming women in lingerie. "Nice dancing, by the way," said Leslie wryly.

"Oh, hush. You should talk, Rainwoman. Let's go." They raced out.

Betsy wasted no time in getting herself out, heading for a convenient nearby cab. Sharon and Valerie hung about in the shadows inside the club for several minutes, ignoring the water, watching as LaCroix changed direction to go "wescue his little Spikey-Wikey from the awful wainwater!" The look on his face as he discovered his precious pet's disappearance was everything they could have hoped for. They headed out the door and into Betsy's waiting cab.

Behind them, in an endless loop, "Nobody's Side" played on. And on. And on.

"The church has acquired visitors," Selma announced, as she surveyed the supposedly abandoned building. "Everybody has the stuff? This place could do with a bit of fancying up."

The six others with her smiled, or giggled, or just stood there quietly with the supplies. They then headed into the building.

Valerie quickly started to unpack the bags she'd gotten. Of all of them, she'd done the best at finding the supplies they'd needed. The others grabbed the items, racing away to get the church in as little time as humanly possible.

Amparo set to work with the cow-pattern slipcover, and Betsy ended up with the cow-patterned bedsheets.

Jennie gave a little yell, as she found his refrigerator. "I told you he had to own a 'fridge!" she yelled. She then began to replace Vachon's bottles with some that Sharon had provided.

Selma looked up from where she was replacing Vachon's candles with cow-patterned ones. "Don't forget the 'Vachons,'" she said, holding up the Canadian snack food. Jennie nodded and put those in with the bottles, and then closed the appliance, lovingly putting Jill's cow magnet on the front.

Amy was tying bows on the banister of the stairs. The group had agreed on pink, especially since it tied in with the Caddy. Mary GT was alternately hanging cow posters on the wall and digging around in a bag. Several posters later, she cried triumphantly and extracted a pair of cow-patterned slippers. These she placed by Vachon's coffin.

Finally, with the finishing touches of a cow-patterned pillow in Vachon's coffin to go with the sheets, they were done. "Let's see how Vachie-poo likes our redecorating service," Selma said, trying to suppress a laugh.

Seven snickering forms exited the church.

Vachon had no idea his private space had been invaded by mortals. Indeed, his mind was on Tracy and the latest wrinkle in their relationship, and barely on the place that, for the moment, he was calling home.

That was why he didn't notice immediately that it wasn't the same place he left. He would never lower himself to streamers, and certainly he wasn't fond of cows!

As he toured the loft, his heart fell in dismay at the amount of cow-themed stuff that had appeared in his living space that had certainly not been there an hour before. Struck with a sudden thought, he hurried to his refrigerator and checked inside.

In place of his blood, there was something else. Something that he didn't recognize at first but it had ice cream in it.

He sat for a few minutes before deciding that he'd have to find out more.

And then the perpetrators would be very sorry.

"I'm sure she has more intelligence than we realize. After all, we only saw her briefly in Black Buddha."

The others just looked at Selma, doubting her sanity. A lot of them had volunteered to join her on her mission, but on different principles.

Selma picked the lock on Urs' door and swiftly looked around the deserted hallway to see if anyone was witness to the strange procession that was gathered behind her.

"Okay," she said, checking her clipboard. "We've only got a few minutes to do this."

The assembled group split up and raided Urs' drawers.

"I didn't know that Urs had this many Wonderbras," Sharon said to Elaine, who was helping to replace Urs' wardrobe with nice, sensible blue jeans and cute t-shirts.

"I think she's probably broken the world record," Elaine replied.

Meanwhile, Selma, Mary GT, and the others were swapping the clothes in Urs' walk-in closet. "Frills. Frills are a good thing. And granny dresses. And why did these polyester outfits go out of style? I've always liked bellbottoms," Selma said. Another Natpacker handed her an armful of pink dresses.

Meanwhile, Mary GT was replacing all of Urs' shoes with the shoes that she had bought. Fortunately, she had bought a lot. She looked up at the dress that Selma was holding. "Perfect, darling. Just perfect."

"Isn't it, though..." Selma said. " I didn't know it came in this size."

"I almost feel sorry for her," Mary GT said.

Urs approached her closet, stripping off her stained dress as she went. Due to a clumsy young vampire named Vince spilling his drink on her dress after engaging in a long, boring speech on bringing someone across soon, she now had a very sizable stain. Too bad that his glass had been almost full when he was talking to her.

Good thing for him that a young mortal woman had come to claim him. Otherwise, she would have done something permanent to him. The young woman had been nice, offering to help clean up what she thought was plain red wine, but Urs had thanked her for the offer, dabbed it up as best she could, and left.

Something was wrong - she could tell before she opened the closet door that something had changed, subtly.

And then she looked in her closet.

Someone had completely changed her wardrobe. Instead of her stylish clothes, there were polyester outfits. With bellbottoms. Granny dresses. Lots of ruffles and lace and pink.

She'd have to find out who was responsible later. First, she'd have to return to the club. She picked out the least offensive item, a dress with little purple dinosaurs on it, and put it on. It wasn't a bad fit.

But her day had gone from bad to worse.

Maybe she'd strangle that young vampire after all.

Sandra got comfortable. The house was quiet, everything was straightened up, put back in place and otherwise organized.

Things were just the way she liked them. Life was good.

And to make things even better, another blissful hour of Nick Knight was about to start. She'd missed the episode over the weekend.

In anticipation, Sandra leaned forward, watching the television eagerly as a shot of the sun rising above the silhoutted skyline of Toronto slowly filled her screen and her mind.

Yes, life was good for Sandra.

But not for long . . .

Nick is staggering around in a pre-dawn park where a mother is pushing her child in a stroller. The little girl is clutching a doll.

CU on Nick's face--he is haggard. His hair looks as though someone had haphazardly snipped at it with a pair of dull scissors. Several days' stubble cover his cheeks and chin. His eyes glow a feral red and he pulls back his lips in a silent snarl, revealing his fangs.

He pauses, catching sight of the mother and child and begins to move toward them, licking his lips in anticipation.

CUT TO: NATALIE at the morgue, nervously glancing at her watch. She is worried, concerned.

CUT TO: NICK closing in on the mother. They are unaware of his presence.

The sky grows slightly redder.

CUT TO: LACROIX flying into the Raven. He is desperate, worried. He races to the phone and dials a number.

CUT TO: NICK standing just behind the mother, who has stopped to fuss with her daughter.

CUT TO: The morgue as the phone rings. NATALIE snatches it up.

NICK moves to follow, catching her shoulder. He starts to smoulder.

The pain becomes too much. NICK releases the woman. Before he seeks shelter he snarls viciously at the woman and her child, then shoots forward, determined to achieve his prey.

He snatches the little girl's doll from her hands and viciously twists its head off. Tossing the headless doll back into the stroller he dashes away to find shelter.

Sandra leaned back, watching in horror as the episode unfolded. What in the world was this? Reese making it very clear that first Schanke and now Tracy had been carrying Nick's workload and covering for him? Nick returning to his loft and opening a closet full of doll heads? Nick ranting and raving (hell, he was practically frothing at the mouth) at both LaCroix and Natalie as they attempted to reason with him (and they sounded quite reasonable too) over various things?

It was just too, too horrible for words, she thought, sitting there shaken and confused at the end of the episode, barely paying attention to the screen anymore.

At the end of the opening credits, the screen went blank for a moment, then a small cartoon began to run. A little animated knight walked out onto the screen, his armor clanking loudly. He began to build a tiny brick wall on her screen.

"Oi, Rastro!" Maddog complained, "this bag is getting heavy!"

"Wot you want me to do about it?" Rastro retorted, tossing the tesseract back and forth from hand to hand.

"How about carrying it for a while! All you've got is the bloody tesseract and it has negative mass."

"You never know when we might get attacked; besides, we're here." Rastro opened the door to the M.E.'s lab. Normally she would have folded space-time and appeared in the lab itself but she decided that would be impolite, not to mention the chance of landing on a dead body.

Dr. Natalie Lambert looked up from the lab report in front of her. Two women had entered the lab; they looked vaguely familiar. "Can I help you?"

"Yes, you can take this." Maddog plopped the paper bag down in front of Nat.

"What is it?" Natalie peered cautiously into the paper bag.

"Ben and Jerry's ice cream and some Haagan-Daas, plus some chocolate chip cookies," Rastro explained as she fished a cookie out of her pocket.

"What's it for? And who are you anyway?" the medical examiner asked, her mouth already watering at the sight of the Bailey's Irish Cream ice cream.

"It's a bribe and we're the Lurkers," Rastro explained in her best Australian accent.

"What's a Lurker?"

"Never mind that," Maddog interrupted. "The bribe is to get you to help us put on a play."

Natalie narrowed her eyes and leaned back in her chair. "What kind of play?"

"One for charity. It runs for one night only. Nick and Tracey are going to be in it."

"Nick? Really," Natalie sounded intrigued.

"Yes, and he's going to be wearing really tight polyester bell bottoms," Rastro interjected as she opened the container of ice cream and began waving it under Nat's nose.

"Very, very, very tight polyester pants and a very, very tight polyester shirt," Maddog added as she began to fan her hand over some of the chocolate chip cookies, trying to get the smell to carry.

Natalie smiled a real shit-eating grin and took one of the cookies and dipped it into the ice cream. She stuffed it into her mouth. "Really tight pants?"

The two Lurkers nodded their heads and looked their most sincere.

"Anything for charity!" Natalie mumbled around her mouthful of calories.

"Oi, everybody got their scripts?" Rastro called out over the loud mumblings of their collected cast.

"What IS this?" Captain Reese asked, perplexed to the roots of his cop's soul.

"This is the Lurker idea of amusement," LaCroix informed him dryly. "They have nothing better to do with their lives except go around causing random mayhem."

"What's a Lurker?" Reese wondered aloud, then he decided he was in the middle of a dream and just to go along with the flow.

"Okay, I see you've got your scripts and you've all changed into your clothes except..." Rastro's voice trailed off. Admist the sea of polyester and fluorescent colors, LaCroix was still dressed in a very nicely tailored black jacket and pants.

"I don't have a costume yet," the vampire smiled back at the woman, baring his fangs slightly.

"You know," Tracey "I'm a good cop" Vetter said to Vachon as she leafed through the two pages of script, "this is one really strange play."

Vachon did his big-eyed look at her and shook his head slightly. The two people in fake glasses, noses and moustaches had to be very powerful if they could force a vampire as old as LaCroix to do this play of theirs. Of course, they had delivered and Tracey was wearing a tight, pink mini-skirt and a plunging, polyester top with large pink and yellow flowers on it.

"Here you go." Maddog stumbled in, carrying a pair of striped maroon and yellow hip huggers, a yellow shirt with very wide lapels, and an orange sweater vest. She handed them to LaCroix with a silly grin on her face.

"I'm not going to wear...that," LaCroix stated firmly, voice dripping venom.

"Sure you are," Maddog assured him, "cuz if you don't Rastro will fart and she's been eating vegemite."

If looks could have killed the two Lurkers would have been smited on the spot. But they can't, fortunately. LaCroix moved off the stage they were all standing on to change his clothes. Visions of torture dancing in his head.

"Okay, now, everybody, make sure you know what part you'll be playing. I'll run through it one more time," Rastro called out, raising her hand for attention. "All right, let's do the guys first. Nick, you're Greg, Janette, you're Peter, and, Vachon, you'll be playing Bobby."

"Why am I playing a boy, may I ask?" Janette asked as she tilted her head. She hadn't minded the tight pair of white, bell bottom jeans and she was kind of enjoying playing with the zipper that ran part way down the front of her shirt. It was worth it to see Nick stumble around in pants definitely three sizes too small for him. The prospect of seeing LaCroix similarly dressed was just too amusing to miss.

"The sides have to be evenly divided, mortal and immortal," Maddog explained. "We're trying to keep as close to the original concept as possible."

"Oh," Janette nodded.

"Okay, and for the girls, Tracey, you're going to be Marcia. Captain Reese, you're gonna be Jan, uh, try to remember not to sit with your legs crossed. And Schanke, uh, you're going to be Cindy."

"But I ain't nothing but a hound dog," the Elvisized Schanke sang out.

"That's okay. Natalie, you're going to be Mom and, as soon as he's done changing, LaCroix is going to be Dad."

Natalie nodded, trying in vain to get the blonde wig on her head to sit better. One of the bobby pins kept jabbing into her head and she kept having flashbacks of the Partridge Family song, "Point Me In The Direction of Albuquerque."

LaCroix game back on stage. Only his evil glare kept everybody on stage from bursting out laughing. The Lurkers, not so constrained, giggled and made sure the video camera got plenty of shots of his polyester-clad bum.

"All right, here we go," Maddog yelled out. A screen descended behind her, taking up the whole back of the stage. Spinning blocks started appearing on the screen in time to the singing.

"Good morning, Mommy." Captain Reese, cleverly disguised as Jan Brady, tripped into the section of the stage that had been turned into a make-shift kitchen.

"Good morning, sweetie," Natalie aka Carol Brady smiled back. Hours of watching the Brady Bunch as a kid had come flooding back and she was kinda getting off on her role. Except for the polyester chafing.

"Hi, Mom," Nick Knight mumbled as he entered the kitchen. His green polyester pants were so tight he was sure he was doing himself an injury, vampire or not. The too tight ribbed, long sleeve t-shirt wasn't helping matters.

"Uh, oh, Greg, is there something the matter?" Natalie smiled, she liked the green pants. "What is it honey?"

"I don't have a date for the prom, Mom," Nick read from his script, wondering who had written the dialog. "Would you go with me?"

"Sure, son, why not!" Natalie said hesitantly; she looked over at the directors.

"We decided to incorporate the fact that the actor who played Greg Brady actually went out one night with the actress who played his mom," Maddog explained. She noticed that everyone was looking at her. "It's in the book 'I was a Teenage Greg,' honest, go look it up."

"Morning, Mom." Tracey Vetter came into the kitchen area brushing her blonde hair. She was followed by Schankelvis, who skipped into the kitchen doing his best Cindy Brady does the pelvic thrust imitation. "Good mornin', Mama."

"Hey, that's mine," Janette cried out, trying to wrench a football out of Vachon's hands as they entered the scene.

"No, it's mine, you lost yours!" Vachon retorted.

"Now, now, boys, we must share, isn't that the Brady way?" Natalie asked, trying to supress a smile.

"Yes, Mom," the two vampires chorused. Janette handed Vachon the ball and added, "Besides, Bobby has been taking it into the bathroom with him."

Everybody in the cast looked at Vachon, who merely shrugged and picked up one of the glasses on the kitchen table that was filled with wine.

"Good morning, gang." LaCroix entered, smiling broadly at his happy brood. He was going to kill some people and very soon.

"Good morning, Dad," everyone chorused except Natalie who handed LaCroix a glass of wine and a newspaper.

"And what is everybody going to do today? Something fun and wholesome?" LaCroix beamed benevolently (which threatened to break his face in half).

"I'm going to practice my new song for cheerleading tryouts," Tracey "I'm a good cop" Vetter said perkily.

"And how does it go, honey?" Natalie asked, pouring herself a glass of orange juice that she found pleasantly spiked with vodka.

Tracey stood tall and thrust her chest out; she loved to act. Taking a deep breath (and making Vachon very glad he'd tagged along) she sang.

"Young lady, you're grounded," LaCroix declared; sure, it wasn't in the script, but he had to get this blonde thing out of his sight. "That is hardly a song that befits a Brady to sing."

"Your Dad's right, Marcia, you just run along up to your room for the rest of the day," Natalie said sternly, waggling her finger at the detective.

Tracey "I'm a good cop" Vetter stamped her feet and exited, stage left.

"Hey, Dad," Vachon smiled at LaCroix, enjoying himself. "I finished my school project, wanna take a look?"

LaCroix looked at the piece of posterboard that Vachon was holding up to him. "What on earth is it?"

"The script said to make a poem about the wonderfulness of family life out of macaroni. So I did."

The older vampire looked at Vachon and wondered if the slacker pose was just a pose. "I think they meant uncooked macaroni. What did you use?"

"Spaghetti O's. I cut them into the right shapes."

"That's really disgusting," Janette commented.

"It's dripping on my pants," Nick complained.

"Young man, you're grounded for being an idiot," LaCroix declared. At least the play seemed to be moving along, he wondered where it was going. The Lurkers were still writing the last page off to the side.

"Mama, I'm gonna go find me some blue suede shoes," Schankelvis explained to Natalie, still gyrating away.

"That's very nice, dear, why don't you take Jan with you? And remember, look both ways before you cross the street, don't sign any record deals with strangers and stay away from exorcists."

"Love ya, Mama." Schankelvis gyrated off the stage, taking a still dazed Captain Reese with him.

"Uh, Dad?" Janette shuffled her sneaker-clad feet and slowly moved closer to LaCroix.

"Yes, son?" the vampire responded, wondering if this play would ever end. He wished Janette didn't appear to be enjoying herself so much. He contemplated a long future discussion about her behavior.

"Well, Dad, uh..."

LaCroix rolled his eyes skyward and put a hand on his creation's shoulder. "What is it, Peter? You know you can tell me anything."

"Oh, in that case, your pants are bordering on a major accident and are quite obscene," Janette smiled, adlibbing a bit. She watched nervously as LaCroix's eyes reddened and then decided that sticking with the script was probably safer. She continued, "Well, gee, Dad, I was wondering... Uh, girls are different, right?"

"Yes, I'd definitely say they're different," LaCroix replied drolly.

"Well, uh, gee, Dad, the guys at school keep saying stuff and..."

"And you're confused." LaCroix attempted a fatherly smile he'd once seen Captain Von Trapp pull off in the Sound of Music. "Considering who's writing the script, I'm not suprised," he mumbled. Standing up straight, he put his arm around his "son's" shoulders. "Come on, let's go check the oil in the station wagon. We'll have a man to man chat." LaCroix wondered at the absurdity of explaining the facts of life to a thousand year-old ex-whore. He led Janette to the side of the stage with a cardboard cut-out of an old Chevy station wagon.

The exit of the two vampires left only Nick and Natalie in the kitchen set. Natalie couldn't resist a smile as she watched Nick attempting to sit in those very tight, green pants. "So, son," she bubbled, "What are your plans today? Going to practice your guitar so you can become Johnny Bravo?"

"Huh?" Nick stared at his friend then he checked his script. "I don't know, Mom. I'm not sure I've got the pelvic grind down pat yet."

"Maybe you could get your sister, Cindy, to help. She certainly looks like she's perfected it." Natalie tried to give her hair a cute little flip and nearly lobotomized herself with one of the bobby pins.

"You ain't nothin' but a hound dog, cryin' all the time," the recently dead and even more recently resurrected Schankelvis skipped and gyrated onto the kitchen set at his cue. "You ain't nothin' but a hound dog, and you ain't no friend of mine."

"Back from shopping so soon? Did you get your blue suede shoes?"

Schankelvis held up a pair of blue suede shoes, twirling them on his fingers. Suddenly, they fell to the floor, taking two of his fingers with them. Everybody on stage looked over to the directors.

"Uh, we've never actually ever resurrected anybody from the dead before. Don't think we did it quite perfectly, sorry," Rastro explained.

"I told you we should have used the chicken blood instead of Diet Coke," Maddog nudged her partner.

Schankelvis shrugged, picked up his fingers and put them in the small pink purse he was carrying. Captain Reese stared at him for a long second. "I have just got to stop eating anchovi pizza before bedtime," he decided, shaking his head in disbelief as he and Schankelvis walked over to the part of the set that consisted of some couches and a TV set.

"Mom, do you think girls like to get flowers?" Nick asked, standing up, very carefully, from the kitchen table.

"Yes, I'd say so. As a matter of fact, girls, and women, like to receive flowers, candy and other gifts on a regular basis, especially if their so called boyfriend is capable of affording them," Natalie declared, hands on hips, Carol Brady flip hair in air. Then deciding to adlib a bit herself, she addded, "And another thing, buying your girlfriend a four dollar bouquet at the back of the local grocery store on your way home from work is not the same a dozen red roses, got it, son!"

"Uh, yeah, Mom." Nick frowned, there was something else going on in that conversation but damned if he knew what it was. "So you think I should get you a corsage for the prom tonight?"

"Yeah, a damn nice one too!"

"Okay, uh...hey, there's no more script!" Nick called out.

"We're nearly done, we're nearly done, hold your horses," said Maddog, typing furiously.

"Better yet, do some deep knee bends!!" Rastro looked over at her partner in lurking and they quickly added that to the final scenes of the play.

"Okay, here you go," Maddog handed out the freshly printed scripts. She looked around for Rastro who was making sure all the cameras were functioning properly and also that they got some really good bum shots of certain vampires.

"Everything's set," Rastro informed her. The two directors took their seats.

Natalie read over her script quickly and then looked over at the two Lurkers. "This," she said pointing to the first page, "is very familiar."

The two Lurkers shrugged and pulled out some Cadbury bars. "Oi, go for it!" the Australian director instructed.

"Greg, Marcia, Bobby, Peter!" Captain "Jan Brady" Reese yelled, trying to raise his voice into a higher octave then it had been in many, many years. "Get in here!"

The entire cast tromped over to the couch. Reese was holding up a newspaper.

"What is it?" Tracey "I'm a good cop" Vetter asked as soon as she'd arrived. For some reason both she and Vachon were now wearing headbands, love beads and t-shirts that said "Make Love, Not War."

"Oh, no, look at this," Reese pointed to an article.

Nick picked up the paper and began to read out loud, "Dear Libby. I have three children of my own and recently got remarried to someone who also had three children. I love my marriage but the kids are driving me insane. I'm not to sure I can continue on. Signed, Driven Crazy."

"Oh, no, Mom hates us!" Vachon whined.

"Probably because of your atrocious taste in music and refusal to get your hair cut," Janette informed her faux-sibling.

"At least I don't spend the entire family budget on lingerie," Vachon retorted, decidedly off script.

"Guys, guys, this is no time to argue," Nick said. "This could just as easily be referring to the girls."

"Us?" Tracey "I'm a good cop" Vetter squeaked.

"Daddy doesn't like us?" asked Captain Reese. "Marcia, Marcia, Marcia, it must be your fault!" he chanted, getting into the part at last. He adjusted his skirt daintily.

"We ain't nothing but hound dogs," Schankelvis gyrated unhappily on the couch.

"The letter could apply to either of us equally," Knight explained. "The real problem is, we've got to make sure Mom and Dad stay together."

"Why, big brother," Janette purred, running a finger along the edge of Nick's ear. "Wouldn't it be more fun if it was just us guys again?"

Knight removed Janette's hand from his body. "We're all going to have to be extra good and make sure that we don't drive them crazy."

"Or we could just call up Dear Libby and find out who sent the letter," Tracey pointed out.

"That's certainly quicker," Vachon agreed. He picked up the prop phone and handed it to Nick. "Go for it, man."

"Groovy," everyone else chorused and looked expectantly at Knight.

Reading from the script, Nick picked up the Mickey Mouse phone and spoke, "Hello, operator, please connect me to Dear Libby. Thanks very much. Yes, Dear Libby, it's an emergency, could you please come to..."

"'ere I am," Screed, dressed in a fifties-style house dress and pink fuzzy slippers, entered the stage.

"Uh, Libby," Tracey "I'm a good cop" Vetter spoke up. "We've got to find out who Driven Crazy is!"

"We don't want our Mommy and Daddy to get divorced!" Vachon whimpered.

"Well, it's like this, my young chickies. Libby ain't supposed to, like, divulge where the letters come from," Screed explained.

The assembled cast looked at each other for a moment and then did a collective cry of "Pretty please with sugar on top."

Screed shrugged, figuring that for a Uncanny X-Men Number 138 this was a pretty easy gig. "Okay, that letter didn't come from 'ere. It came from Oklahoma, which is like, uh, west of 'ere, I think."

"What's all the excitement about, gang?" Natalie and LaCroix entered the scene.

"Yes, you all seem very excited over something," LaCroix added pleasantly, which had nothing to do with the part and everything to do with his thoughts of killing certain women with possessed vegemite.

Nick handed LaCroix the letter and he and Natalie both read it. They smiled in unison and put their heads together and did an "aaaaah."

"We love all you kids too much to ever split up," Natalie declared. A group hug ensued. Screed tried to cop a hug from Tracey but found himself getting one from Schankelvis instead.

"It's so beautiful," Maddog sobbed into a handkerchief.

Rastro stared at her and declared, "You know you really shouldn't have wasted your entire childhood watching this crap."

"You should talk. That's a wrap, gang," Maddog called out. She signaled to Rastro to get the special cameras in place. "Everybody take a bow."

Glad that their ordeal was finally over, everyone walked to the front of the stage and took a bow. Unfortunately, polyester can only stretch so far. LaCroix's pants ripped. There was a quick show of baby blue silk boxer shorts with Winnie The Pooh on them.

"Got it," Rastro yelled, activating the tesseract. A huge white light flooded the stage and everything disappeared. Including the furious glowing eyes of LaCroix as he lunged for the nearest Lurker.