"Knight Court: Odor in the Court" by Abby Albrecht Time: Right before part two. Special thanks to everyone who helped... even those not used by name. This was just not her war. First she was kidnapped, then she had to organize a whole appeals court for Maureen le Unhappy. It wasn't as if Mo had been her Poohbah even. But, well, what the heck. If she could help Dee vent some of her work related stress on someone else, she'd do anything in her power. Abby walked slowly down the aisle leading to Dee's judge's bench. Checking under each chair and bench that she passed, Abby verified that everything was where it had to be. *Water guns. Check. Non-trademarked Dooz Balls. Check. Chocolate. Check... Well, we don't want everybody leaving every five minutes for a chocolate fix,* Abby reasoned with herself. At the front of the room Abby met up with Kira, Laurie and ... Berg? Berg, in a blonde wig????? What? Sensing her total confusion, Berg explained the wig with, "When I go fetch Mo from her waiting cell I want to put the fear of blonde into her." "Sounds good to me!" *And it's not as if Mo didn't ask for it,* Abby thought. Kira and Laurie looked up from all of the files they were sorting. "Will this take all day?" Laurie asked. "I've got some unfinished business with a... friend." The excuse sounded a bit fishy to Abby... Wait. No. That wasn't it. It smelled a bit fishy. Like... herring... Penguin food? Why was Abby smelling penguin food? "Ere now! Wot's this oder in de court?" Libby, the RatPacker extrodinaire asked, popping out from where she was working in the jury box. It was so handy to have RatPackers in the Guild. They fit places Mercs didn't. At least their rats did... Abby could tell that Libby thought the blame would be put on her, since most bad smells in Merc Central were blamed on the rats. "Don't worry Libbs. The smell ain't your rats... This time." Content that her friends were free of blame for now, she went back to setting them up under each chair. "Oh, don't worry about Cath's chair, Libby. She always wears sandals." Abby called out. Tying the NatPack's shoelaces together might not be the most adult act, but it *was* fun! And the rats were so good at it. Kira cleared her throat audibly, "We really need to get started!" "Uh, yeah... Berg, could you go get Mo now?" Abby sighed. She hoped this trial would go better than the last one... She was running out of hidden Guild rules to torment Mo with. Straightening the wig, Berg replied, "Sure thing! This'll be fun!" "Play nice Berg!" Abby shouted to the closing doors. "Uh, Abby?" Kira looked at her friend. "Why is Dianne the judge again?????" "Ummm, cause she said so." "Oh. Ok!" *~*~*~* 20 minutes later Judge Dianne hammered her gavel into her bench, enjoying the pleasant cracking sound it made. "Let's get this fun started!" --------- "Knight Court: Telling Tales" by Dawn Steele Time: Right after the last court scene. Natch. Dawn smoothed down some frizzies that the Southern Ontario humidity put into her hair and suffered a shock when they stayed down -- thus disobeying multiple laws of Physics. Hurriedly, she patted down the rest of the stray bits of hair that were sticking up randomly in all directions. Within half a minute, her hair was smooth enough for a hairspray commercial and she was on her way to deciding that space-time rifts/warps/messes did have some advantages. With her hair presentable, her glasses straightened, and wearing her tuxedo outfit (her only dress suit was in the laundromat), she waited expectantly to be called as a witness. The only problem was that she wasn't sure whether it would be Liz the Lucky or Lizbet calling her to the stand. Was she supposed to be a witness for the defense or prosecution? Would this matter? They were both Mercs, and she'd missed the explanation of who/what/when through sheer bad bathroom timing. She'd spent the last half hour finding her tuxedo and had just snuck in a couple of minutes ago. "Dawn Steele, you may come to the witness stand." The voice resonated throughout the courtroom. Liz the Lucky slapped the witness box with some folders, and performed her "intense" look at Dawn. "Have you ever felt that Maureen Wynn's behavior could be construed as sane in any fashion." Dawn worked her way around the sentence, looked at Lizbet expectantly to see if she'd protest about leading the witness or whatever you were supposed to protest. "Sane?" "Sane... everyday, normal, well-balanced, tip-top shape or totally screwed?" [ed: sorry. I couldn't resist. ] "But -- she's a Natpacker." The slam of the gravel made Dawn's ears spin. Not again! It was bad enough sitting in the audience when she did that! "How many times do I have to tell people not to use *that* word?" Dianne said politely (okay -- she yelled, but trying to be polite). Liz straightened up. "Madam judge. May I point out... that *that* word has no legal reason to be barred from the courtroom?" "No!" Dianne shifted over and peered over at Dawn, one end of her long wig trailing in the air above Dawn's head. "And get your hands away from your ears!" "May my client... rephrase her answer, your high Honoriness?" "She may." With another cautious peek at the judge, Dawn relaxed (just a bit). "What I to say was that Maureen's of ... affiliation could in inself be "contrued" to indicate both for and against the very possibility that you are asking me about and which I am trying to avoid giving a firm indication of my belief in one way or another because I am a firm believer in fence-sitting, think it admirable and all that." "Can you give any examples to furthur that run-on sentence?" [A momentary pause to note that a "run-on" or "rambling" sentence should never be taken to be a negative factor in any war time setting, and can in fact be quite amusing in some instances -- espescially when the author writing whatever section they happen to be writing has no real idea of what they will be writing in the next sentence and the "run-on" sentence concept is thus used to stall for time.] "Huh?" [Note: another clever way to stall for time.] Liz shoved up her sleeves, and stared piercingly into Dawn's eyes. "Give me proof of how normal she's been acting lately so I can get the previous judgement validated!" Dawn swayed in her seat and started waving her hands at her face to generate a little air. "You want an example of how Mo's been acting "sane"?" "Y*E*S." "Oh." "Is there a problem with this?" "Did I ever mention about my memory." Dawn smiled weakly. "What about it." "It's pretty horrible. I normally can't even remember stuff that done that well, let alone other people." "Maureen Wynn." Lizbet turned around and pointed straight to where Mo was sitting. "You remember her. She you, tortured you, was a direct link towards you committing several embarrassing episodes later on. Surely you can remember more recent events where you later met up." Dawn took off her glasses. Put them back on. Took them off. Put them back on. Realized that not only had the laws of static electricity been violated but that the laws of Optics weren't working that well either. All she could make out was a rather short blur with a red mess of color at the top. "That's Maureen Wynn?" "Y*E*S." Dawn shrugged and noticed that her hands were hurting a bit. It was like those times when she had been typing too long. "I guess I sorta remember her acting a bit strange during the war in amongst all the other strange things happening even though the whole episode has been pretty thoroughly fogged out by some of the electroshock therapy sessions Dr. Wetmore was kind enough to give me, but... maybe that was an abberation because I can't remember her doing anything very nutso lately and it could be that she was just faking her previous abberant mental state in order to ... plead insanity? I know that isn't very prooflike but it's all I can give this court and considering who the judge is that's probably enough." Dawn stared weakly up at Dianne, who smiled wickedly and decided to pound the gravel... this time. "Great! That's wonderful." Lizbet threw her pencil at the back of the room, missing a chance to stake a vampire if the vampire in question had actually been sitting there. "I release my witness. Would the Defense like to cross-examine." Lizbet looked at her notes, Dawn, and Dianne and made a decision that would shorten this author's contribution to Maureen's trial considerably. "No." -------------------- "Knight Court: Chaotic Testimony" by Christina Kamnikar, Merc Mommy General Time: Right after the last Knight Court. Any other silly questions? "Next witness!" Dianne snarled from the judge's bench. "The Defense calls Chris Kamnikar, also known as Chaos, also known on some occasions as 'Kiki', current Merc Mommy General for the Guild," Lizbet said, smiling brightly at the assembled courtroom as Chaos entered, waving to the crowd, smiling for the photographers, blowing kisses to her constituents, and sticking out her tongue at the judge. "Objection, Your Honor!" "You can't call her! She's on our side! And you didn't submit her name on the witness list, and she doesn't have any evidence, and---" Dawn and Liz were falling over each other in their efforts to object. "Your Honor, I didn't know until just recently, since time seems not to be making any sense right now, that Christina had any relevant testimony. And anyway, she's what we call a surprise witness. Perry Mason does it all the time. Matlock, too. L.A. Law. Ummmm.... Law and Order---" "If the Defense will cease citing television shows as legal precedents, I'll allow the testimony," Dianne said, her eyes narrowing into slits as she watched her co-Leader take the stand in a swish of London Fog tailoring and jangling earrings. "Provided that I like what she's saying, and she takes off the RayBans." "Hey! The lights are too bright in here---" "Give it up, Kiki. My show, my rules. My sunglasses," Dianne added, taking the shades off Christina's face and trying them on herself. "Nobody gets to look cooler than the Judge." "And you probably wonder why I'm testifying," Chris muttered under her breath, pouting. "I _never_ get to look cool. Just for that, I might actually be *helpful* to the Defense---" "Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?" the *really* blond bailiff demanded. "What happens if I don't?" "Uhhhh.... You don't get to testify," Berg retorted triumphantly. "Oh. In that case. Sure I promise." The MMG rolled her eyes, and waved cheerily at Maureen, who waved back with somewhat less enthusiasm, and slumped farther down in her seat next to Lizbet at the Defense Table. "Where were you on the night of August 19th?" Lizbet demanded, standing up to pace in front of the bench. "I have no idea. That's my story, and I'm sticking to it." "Isn't it true, Madame Chaos, that the current Grand High Poohbah has long harbored a grudge against my client, pre-dating the current Adminstration of the Guild? Isn't it true that she deliberately rail-roaded my client into blondeness during the last trial, refusing to hear testimony that would clear Maureen the Mad's name, and avert her viewing of FK tapes with all the Natalie bits cut out? And isn't it true that you now have top secret extra-plenipoteniary testimony that'll back these counter-charges up?" Lizbet paused to breathe, while Chris watched respectfully, and the jury laid bets on when the defense counsel was going to pass out from lack of air. Dianne glowered, snarled, then pouted when no one took her picture. "Yes. Yes. Yes." "Well?" Lizbet demanded, vibrating in place, not unlike a small nuclear generator right before it blows a hole through the earth to China. Maureen knocked her head against the table, muttering to herself about, "No, couldn't get a new lawyer, had to go with the one who lost *last* time... last time I rely on family in a legal matter...." "Well what?" "Tell all!" The Defense counsel gave a *squeak* of hyper-intensity that alarmed her client into hiding under her chair, and deafened half the courtroom (fortunately, not the side with the jury on it. Although one reporter was seen to slump to the floor in pain, and some of the 'Packers actually stopped bouncing in awe.). She also managed to terrify the MMG out of her happily self-conscious Important Witness state. "Lane and Lizbet were the ones who put Jell-o in the hot tub last War," Christina blurted out, "and Berg's the one who didn't fill up the gas tank on the 'Bago, and Virginia forgot to feed the cats when it was her turn, and Laurie left out the ice-cream so it melted all over the counter, and Dianne faked up the charges against Maureen, and Abby took *all* the makeup on our last Strikeforce, she did, really, and she used it at the costume contest at Bridging, and and Dawn's been making calls to the Psychic Hotline ever since she got back to Merc Central, and--" "STOP!!" Chris inhaled, Dianne pounded the gavel, the courtroom went wild. Charges, accusations, threats, and shrieks were uttered as various Mercs launched straight into practicing their Plausible Deniability Poses. "What do you mean, 'Dianne faked up the charges against Maureen?'" Lizbet asked in a coaxing voice, trying to get the witness to focus. "Don't answer that!" The judge snapped. "Well, half that stuff wasn't *in* the Charter--" Chaos started to say. "Bailiff, remove the witness from the stand!" "I mean, the dues thingie wasn't in there yet, and 'terrorism' is kinda stretching the definition of bouncing, and okay, so, she didn't pet a chincilla on her way out of office. She *did* pet a mink. I'm sure that counts for something, they're the same species." Abby was about to comment about the relationship between minks and chinchillas, but decided that she really didn't want to be called as an expert witness. *Even if chinchillas did make better pets!* "Duct tape the witness's mouth shut!" Dianne bellowed, standing up and slamming the gavel into the bench with enough force to dislodge the head from her Official Hammer of Doom, thus forcing her to use the screeching microphone to punctuate her shouts. "Suppress her!! Put her in a bag and *sit* on her!!" "And so, Maureen's a rotten person. So what? I mean, it's not like being a Natpacker and irredeemably bouncy is actually written into the charter as a blonding offense!" Chris hid behind her chair as the bailiff approached, only to have the judge grab her by the ear and hand her over to the constabulary. "Ow.... Dee, that hurt! And I think it shows great strength of character on Mo's part to admit she couldn't stand the lonely, cruel difficulty of being a Merc anymore and hand over the job of Grand High Poohbah to someone even crazier than her!!" "Awwwwww..." The judge sniffled, sitting down and waving bye-bye to the witness as Chaos was summarily hustled out of the courtroom. "That was so sweet. Clerk of the Court?" "Yes, Your Honor?" "Strike everything but that last bit." She straightened her wig and grinned malevolently at Lizbet and Maureen. "Next witness!" *** "Knight Court: Deedle Gets A Prezzie" by Catherine Boone Time: Gee. Could it be after number 3? So I was sitting in the jury box, right? Minding my own business, killing some time in the nice air conditioning and waiting for the trial of the century (the other one) to be over. And what was foremost on my mind? I was in dire need of some gum. Hate the stuff, ususally, tragic on your teeth, but *something* was needed to liven things up. Something to crack rudely in Dee's direction that wouldn't get me arrested in most states. Something to throw at Perri when I got bored. Something to play with and get in my hair... which wouldn't get me arrested. Yup. Definitely gotta bring gum next time. That, or some jacks would do in a pinch. Jacks without a capital J. Don't go there. Or at the very least, wear sturdy boots and don't drink the water. What, you expect me to be thinking about the case? This is Mo we're talkin' about here. The jury is Packers. You do the math. Me, I hadda figure out if they'd let us order in Thai that night. "I call Catherine Boone, aka Boo, to the stand." Um. Exqueeze me? Mayhap I shouldst pay better attention to mine surroundings, after all. Lizbet spared one last triumphant grin in my direction, probably at seeing my jaw getting tickled by the dustbunnies under my seat. But she only had a moment to spare for me, as the Great And Wonderful Schnookums o' Luv, aka Dianne the Destroyer, was verbally giving birth to several large exotic animals in Lizbet's direction. And there was a good dozen Mercs in the room, and not *one* of them was selling tickets yet. Sad, really. I almost started forming a line myself, just in sympathy. But I was busy, too. If Dianne would let me near the stand, that is. "SIT DOWN!" "Jeez, Schn... I mean, Dee... can't the Defense call anyone they want?" Oh, come now. I was too being sweet and innocent. "Not when she's a member of the jury, she can't!" Sheesh, that girl was getting as red as her hair. It probably wasn't helping that the rest of her jury was about to destroy their chairs bouncing in them. We lose more chairs that way. Really. "STOP BOUNCING!!" Yep, she's referring to the b-word without any stars. Unhappy Merckie. I politely did not point out that this was only the beginning. Momma raised me to be polite. Especially when it coincided with having no mercy. "Dianne sweetie, most of the time that's true because the jury's impartial. Have you taken a look at your jury box? Now stop huffing and throw some water on your face. You're glowing." Okay, so maybe I didn't need to tell her that the fit was about to hit the shan. "Besides, you did it yourself last time." Dianne can't grow fangs. Suddenly I was both very aware and very grateful of this fact at the same time. "Well, come on. Get over here before I change my mind," she snarled, managing to include half the room in her glare before her dainty Mercly ego was soothed. Sorry, I just had to see if I could find something about Dianne that could honestly be called dainty. What's there to say? I walked over to the hot seat, sat myself down, and they plopped a book in front of me. Well, what did they expect? I started reading. "Give me that!" The book was snatched out of my hands. 'Sokay, though. It looked like it had a pretty wierdo plot, anyway. I put my right hand on it and they asked me to promise to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help me God. I replied that if God was helping me, shouldn't we get a more challenging gig than just telling the truth? I mean, how boring can you get? Dee just gave me a swift bap with her big Stick o' Luv. Well, she's known me a long time, she's allowed to cut to the heart of the matter. I replied that yes, I most certainly would tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. Beginning with the fact that telling the truth is just a tragic waste of some good fic-writing time, for which I would like just compensation. But the Mercs in the audience were looking like they just might have some seriously unsavory fruit with my name on it, so I sat my behind down and let Lizbet get on with her show. "Tell us why Maureen is truly a NatPacker, and not just a Mercenary in deep cover." "She is." Lizbet looked rather startled. "What?" "Maureen *is* just a Mercenary in deep cover." Have you ever seen Lizbet sputter? It's sooo cute. "But... but... how could you know that!?!" "Because I ordered her to." Lizbet was looking nose-to-nose with a serious pout at this crink in her plans. Another very unhappy Merckie. Well, everybody's gotta be good at something... "But, how? Why? HOW?!?!?" "Because I'm really Jen in disguise!" I ripped off my mask, to the exclamations of the older listies, the confusion of the newer ones, and one seriously girlie-shriek from Dianne. "Jen! Poobah before there was a Poobah! The first leader of the Mercs! How can it be?!?" I just glowered and looked meanacing, in a completely powerless kind of way. "And I would have gotten away with it, if it hadn't been for you darn kids!" Oh, fine. So it didn't happen that way. But wouldn't it have kicked butt if it had? Sigh. Trust a little injection of reality to put a crink in a cool idea. Phooey. Anyway, this is what I really said: "Over the years Dianne has created the Mercs in her image. They are strong, they are powerful, and they are without regret." Lots of little Merckies nodding at each other and beating their chests. You get the idea. "But there is one serious, fundamental flaw in the Guild Charter." "Is not." "Shaddap, Dee. You're the one that put it there." "Say *what*?!?" "You know, the part about not attacking other Mercs? Well, what if all your best friends are Mercs, huh? What's a chick to do? Play Cat's Cradle with each other, what?" I started getting fired up about it, and glared up at Dianne. "No! You *drive* people out of your faction, just so they can have some proper fun torturing you all! Very cruel of you, if you ask me. Of course, the NatPackers were the most obvious choice after the Mercs, what with the 'attack those in your own faction before all others' idea firmly in mind from the beginning." I tried the lofty look, but I still think Dianne does it better than anyone. "It's your own fault. You ask me, it's a wonder any of you stay at all." My cuticles suddenly became the center of my existence as I waited for Deedle close her mouth long enough to toss me bodily out the window. The wail took me by surprise. But I doubt I was the only one. Christina came rushing in from one of the side rooms to wrap her arms about an inconsolable Dianne, who finally managed to moan, "...serious! She was being *serious*!" "I know, dear." Ooh. Okay, I take that back, Chris actually glares better than Dianne, when pressed. "In *my* *courtroom*!! How could she be serious *here*? Why??" Oh. Poopie! Forgot she was sensitive about that. Dangdarncrapperoonie. Fix now. "Dianne? I was gonna give you this later, but... well, here." I whipped a small cage out of the Holy Plot Hole of Antioch and set it on the bench in front of her. Dee sniffled and frowned. "Is that a chinchilla peeing on my proceedings?" "I was short on newspaper. But yes." She looked a bit brighter, as anyone else would upon having a chinchilla set in front of them. Even if it was peeing on their proceedings. Y'see, chinchillas aren't just little rodent-like things that run around the Southern California region. Chinchillas are also *THE* cutest darn living things breathing. Something like a cross between a hamster and a rabbit. Chinchillas have been known to cause random kindness, senseless acts of beauty, rainbows on command, and very occaisionally, make Schnookums smile. Fortunately, this was one of those times. "Oh, and here. This comes with it." I handed her a small stick that looked like a paper umbrella with the paper part ripped off. Well, there was a reason it looked like that... let's just move on. Dianne picked up the little cherry-skewer with two fingers and inspected it. "Do I dare ask?" "Did you ever read Bunnicula as a kid?" "Oh god." "See, you don't have to ask." "You're not serious." "Never twice in a row." "All right, all right. Get back to the jury box before these warm and gooshy feelings start causing athlete's foot or something." "'Kay. Oh, and he likes scorpion blood." "Boo dearest?" "Yes'm." "Get while the getting's good." "Yes'm." I went back to my seat, and listened to the rest of the trial. So you see, there's absolutely no way I could have ended up flat on my back in an alley behind a jazz bar, explaining intently to some guy about the glories of breeches. No way, no how. You've got the wrong girl. Breeches are pretty cool though. Since you brought it up an' all. -------- "Knight Court: Not Guilty by Reason of Insanity, Your Honor!" by Maureen Wynn Time: Before part 6. "Call your next witness," Dianne said, banging her gavel. "Yes, your honor,"said Lizbet, and Dianne banged her gavel again. "Um, your honor, why are you, um, gaveling?" "Because I *want* to!" the judge/jury/executioner replied. "Sheesh! Does everything have to have a reason?" The defense counsel wisely decided to ignore this, and said, "I call as my next witness, the defendant, Maureen." "I object!" said the prosecution, popping out of her chair. "Why?" said Lizbet, echoed by her client, "Yeah, why?" "Because, um, because..." Liz said, frantically searching her notes, "she might tell the truth?" she finished in a slightly pleading tone, looking at Dianne. "Well, that _would_ be a first in this courtroom," Dianne said, "but I guess it isn't sufficient reason to keep her from talking. Objection overruled!" she said, bangin her gavel again, as the rest of the court winced at the sound. Lizbet looked triumphant, and Maureen stuck her tongue out at the prosecutors table. Liz said, "Your honor!" and pointed at the offensive tongue, but by the time Dianne looked up, Maureen was looking as innocent as the driven snow, which in itself was suspicious. Dianne glared at her, and Maureen glared right back. Dianne started growling, and Maureen responded with hisses and snarls, with the Natpackers in the jury box shouting encouragement. They looked like they could have kept escalating the warfare indefinitely, but fortunately, they were interrupted by Lizbet hauling on Maureen's arm to drag her out of her chair up to the witness bench. Maureen stalked up to the witness enclosure, muttering under her breath what sounded suspiciously like gaelic curses. "Pough m... what?" she snapped at Berg the baliff. "You have to be sworn in." "Oh. Okay, go ahead." "You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say will be misquoted, then used against you..." "Hey!" Maureen said, and Lizbet shouted, "Objection!" while the court erupted in shouts and cat-calls. Everything was drowned out by Dianne banging furiously with her gavel (really, they were going to _have_ to do something about that gavel). "Okay, okay!" Dianne shouted, banging away. "That's enough!" She turned to glare at Berg, who had the decency to look sheepish. "Sorry, Dian... your Honor. Got a little mixed up there." "Two demerits! Now, do `em the right way." "Yes, sir! Ma'am! Uh, Judge! I mean, your Honor!" "Grrrrrr!" said the Judge, which the baliff correctly interpreted to mean, "get on with it." Turning to the witness, who was waiting not-so-patiently, Berg said, "Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?" "Yeah, yeah, yeah," she said, sitting in the witness chair. "Let's get this over with. I have an appointment at the beauty parlor." "Maureen, behave yourself!" Lizbet hissed at her witness. <*Now* I remember why I didn't want to do this again!> she thought. "Now, Maureen," she said, trying to get the undivided attention of her client, "do you remember..." Maureen's watch took this moment to decide to sing. As a matter of fact, it decided to sing "I'm a little teapot." Maureen looked at it, then shook her wrist, trying to get it to stop. When that didn't work, she took the watch off, and started banging it against the railing of the witness box. "...here is my handle, *ow!*, here is my spout, *ow!*" continued the watch, undaunted. Maureen tried banging it some more, and it retaliated by starting on another song. "...nick-nack, paddywack, give the dog a bone..." Disgusted, Maureen flung the watch away, and it sailed into the jury box. Dawn caught it, and started soothing the poor little battered thing. Maureen looked at her lawyer, who was standing with her head in her hands. "Yes, Lizbet? You were saying?" Lizbet shook her head, trying to clear the cobwebs away. <*How* do I get myself into these things?!"> Yes, Maureen, I was _trying_ to ask you if you remembered the events of the last War... eeep!" she said, as she jumped back to avoid the green glow that was forming in the middle of the room. She watched, astonished, as the grren glow intensified and grew bigger, and two people stepped out of it. They stood there, blinking around at the court, while the people in the court, too astonished for words, blinked right back at them. "Hey, guys!" Maureen shouted, waving at them. "It's about time you got here!" "Oi, wot's time got to do with anything? I got rid of my watch - it kept trying to sing `Waltzing Matilda.' Besides, we would have been here sooner, but Maddog had to take a potty break," Rastro said. "You don't want to know how long that took!" she added, holding her nose and scrunching up her face. "It's your own fault," Maddog said. "You were the one who fed me those burritos" "Well, you were the one who insisted on the fried ice-cream!" the other Lurker countered. "Guys, could we discuss this later?" Maureen interrupted. "Right now, we need to get me out of here before Dianne lines up the firing squad." Hearing that unfroze the erstwhile judge, and she started yelling for the baliffs to grab the Lurkers, the defendant, and anyone else they could get their hands on. The Lurkers looked at the approaching baliffs, then looked at each other. "Plan B," said Maddog, and Rastro nodded. They reached into the tessaract, and pulled out what looked like large super-soakers. The baliffs smirked - like a little water would keep them away! Then the Lurkers opened fire, and the cheese-whiz hit them in the face and stopped them dead in their tracks, unable to see a thing. "Yee-ha!" Maureen yelled, vaulting out of the witness chair, and joining the Lurkers by the tessaract. "Get `em all!" she yelled, grabbing up a bazooka-looking thing. She aimed it at the baliffs, who were trying to wipe the cheeze-whiz off, to no avail. She launched... peppers? Yep, they were hot peppers, which clung nicely to the cheeze-whiz coated mercs. She continued to fire, a maniacal grin on her face, as they coated all the mercs in the room. "Oops! Hey guys, not the Natpackers!" she yelled, as she noticed the Natpackers in the jury box were also coated. "Well, then, why did you say, `get `em all?'" Maddog responded, quite reasonably, continuing to fire at Dianne, who by this time was undetectable under the pile of cheese covering her. "Well, you know, I meant the Mercs, not the Natpackers!" "Sorry, we don't have any affiliation - we can't tell one from another." Maureen looked at the Natpackers, and shrugged, saying, "Sorry!" Tina wailed, "But I just washed my hair!" as she looked out through cheese-coated locks. The baliffs had managed to un-cover their eyes, and were advancing on the Lurkers and their friend. "Time to beat a hasty retreat," said Rastro. "Yikes!" said Maddog, seeing the baliffs coming toward them with fire in their eyes, and she dove into the tessaract. "Bye-bye!" said Maureen, as she waved and backed up toward the green-glowing opening of the tessarract. She reached in and pulled out a device with a big red button on it. She looked at Rastro, who said, "Push the button, Max!" She did, and then with one last wave, she and the Lurker disappeared into the glow, which disappeared with a "pop!" just as the Mercs reached it. They stood there, growling, not knowing what to do next, when they started to feel... warm? The cheese was heating up! The special microwave that the Lurkers had surrounded the courtroom with was toasting the cheese. Just as the cheese was reaching the right temperature, the special vents in the ceiling of the room opened up, and the nacho chips started raining down, lightly coating the cheese-covered Mercs, who were now Merchos. Over in the jury box, Amy started to scoop up a helping of nachos, when Betsy stopped her. "No dairy, Amy, remember?" Amy started to pout, but cheered up when Lynn handed her some plain chips, and she nibbled on them as they all filed out of the jury box. "Isn't it a good thing we all have appointments at the beauty parlor?" Lynn said as they squished through the cheese on their way out of the courtroom. *** "Knight Court: The Best D*mned Justice Money Can Buy!" by Dianne la Mercenaire Time: After parts 1-5. "*FREEZE!*" The order resonated nicely through the gooey courtroom. The Natpack stopped their squishing noises and turned to look back at the bench, where The Pile of Cheese Whiz Formerly Known as Dianne attempted to brush pseudo-dairy muck from the pelt of a sizable undead Chilean rodent with one hand while making wild and threatening gestures with the other. "Stop! Cease! Desist! And get your little cheese-whizzed butts back here *now*!" By this time even the Ratpackers had ceased their attempts to secure contracts to agent the jurors' book deals, movie deals, made- for-TV-movie deals, infomercial deals, 1-900-number deals, and as-yet-unborn children in order to watch. With only slightly belated efficiency (and much surprise), Berg managed to get the courtroom back into some semblance of order. "We will now commence with the reading of the verdict," Dianne announced, as she abandoned her judicial wig, which now, quite frankly, belonged on a bartop alongside several margaritas. On second thought, better make that few straight shots of tequila.... "But... but the accused escaped!" the defense counsel protested. "And the jury hasn't even had time to deliberate!" Perri added helpfully as she tried to detach herself from Lizbet, to whom she was connected by several gooey strands. Dianne looked startled for a bare moment, then shrugged. "I still want to read the verdict." Before Dianne could go any farther (further?) with her cheesy decision, Tina, jury forewoman and all around cool gal (even if the cheese was congealing in her hair), rose to speak. "If I may?" Dianne's head turned so quickly to the jury box/nacho pool that gobs of cheese flung onto Kira's desk. Sick and tired of trying to organize the disorganized, Kira flung her file folders into an extremely large puddle and hid under her desk. "No you may not!" the Poohbah shouted obstinately. Tina lowered herself into her chair and mumbled, "Fine. Then we'll just go through this again in the next war..." Hearing the words 'again' and 'next war' caught Dianne's attention. She pummled her gavel into the bench until her teeth rattled. "No! WE ARE NOT DOING THIS AGAIN!!!!" Her breathing was deep, and her cheeks were flushed, but she slowly regained composure. "I will kill Abby myself before I let her set up another trial! Fine. Tina. What's your verdict?" Each Packer stood up in turn and rendered their decision. "Innocent." "Innocent." "Innocent." "Innocent." "Innocent." "Guilty." The entire courtroom turned to stare at this brave NatPacker. "Wha?" was all Lizbet could get out. Kimberley looked frankly at Mo's lawyer. "Well, I warned you I was anal. She got cheese all over my best suit! I say we give her life without the possibility of Nat..." Sensing the tide was turning, Dianne called for the rest of the verdicts. "Innocent." "Innocent." "Innocent." "Innocent." "Yeah. Should'a guessed it." Dianne looked at the jury trying to figure out how to bring Kimberley to the Merc's side. "Well, now it's time for my decision." Perri whispered to Lizbet, who hollered at the bench, "But you're not wearing your wig!" Dianne blinked. Liz blinked. Kira blinked. Many of the Natpackers may have blinked-- they were too cheese-covered to be sure. The chinchilla certainly blinked. It was an awfully bright chinchilla. Lizbet frantically flipped through an enormous, important-looking tome on the table before her. "According to section 8, paragraph 1228, line 3.14159...um... something... of the Legal Code, the Judge *must* wear a wig while reading the verdict!" Lizbet slammed the heavy book shut quickly (before anyone could object), narrowly missing Perri's thumb. Liz rolled her eyes and smirked slightly. Oh yeah, that was gonna be _real_ effective, guys. Dianne positively glowered, drawing herself up to her full height (which was actually only 4' 26", after all) and declaiming in a manner worthy of a fire-and-brimstone preacher, "I will not be insulted, mocked, chinchillaed, Lurkered, cheesed, microwaved, or _Merchoed_! My courtroom is my own! Mineminemine*mine*!'' "Thank you, No. 666!" Lizbet muttered under her breath. Luckily, Dianne's attention was elsewhere as she gave a martyred sigh and cleaned off the RayBans with the side of her robe. "But, I'm afraid, the defense makes a valid point." "Which one?" Liz demanded as she followed Dianne's gaze.... Luckily the cage had taken much of the brunt of the nacho attack. -*- A few moments later-- oversized toothpick at the ready should it be needed-- Dianne once again called the court to order, studiously ignoring the riotous choking, rolling, and hiccuping laughter coming from the Natpackers at the sight of her new living (oh, o.k. 'undead') hairpiece. After all, they were only the jury, it's not like they were relevant to the proceedings or anything. Kira, responding to a nod from her Poohbahness (and heroically managing something vaguely resembling a straight face) reached under her chair and brought out a sheaf of important-looking documents, handily pre-printed on a lovely ash-gray paperstock with a delicate gold border that unfortunately now clashed rather badly with the near-radioactive glow cast by the mounds of processed cheese product that decorated the court. With Berg's assistance she passed the pages out to the entire court. Upon closer inspection, they contained nothing but the single word 'Guilty' hand-lettered over and over in an attractive over-lapping pattern. "Pretty, bright, shiny!" Jennie squealed happily. The members of the jury were not as thrilled, but knew better than to bother objecting. They just wanted to be released from service, as well as from greasy, sticky cheesy _goo_. "She's guilty," Dianne announced simply. "The verdict stands. The prisoner," and here she turned to the spot between Lizbet and Berg, then to the point in mid-air where the accused had been last seen, and frowned, " will be _somehow_ recaptured, then forcibly returned to the loving bosom of her Mercish family!" "*Over her dead body!*" Lizbet announced with determination. Dianne readjusted her chinchilla absently and frowned, "Can you _do_ that?" Lizbet just shrugged. It sounded like something Maureen would say, and, after all, a dead client can't complain, right? As long as she wasn't _undead_.... Lizbet made a mental note to pick up some garden stakes on the way home. "Why not?" she blinked innocently up at her Poohbah. Just as Dianne appeared about to accept the proffered death sentence, Jennie bounced most annoyingly forward. "I'll do it!" She grinned, bobbing up and down in place in front of the scowling judge. "I'll be a Merc." There was a resounding hush in the courtroom. "You can't be a Merc." Dianne answered back simply, with the same firmness generally reserved for telling a little boy that no, he _can't_ be a mommy when he grows up, without having to go into any embarrassing detail. "Yes I can!" Jennie insisted, as several Natpackers tried to fight their way through the rapidly-solidifying cheese to restrain her. "No you can't!" Dianne's voice was, surprisingly, softer. "Can too," Jennie bounced right back. "Can *not*!" A displeased hiss. "Can!" "*Can't*!" Little more than a whisper this time. A defeated, dispirited, that-better'd-be-rain-I'm-feeling-on-my-head-right-now whisper. "You don't have anyone else," Jennie pointed out helpfully. "And you can't kill Maureen. It's in the Rules, remember?" "Goddess help the Merc Guild," Dianne mouthed in horror. The Ratpackers immediately started scurrying out to the phones to renegotiate movie-rights deals. Berg decided it was time to clear the courtroom. Quickly shooing out gawkers, lawyers, and jury alike he made his final announcements: "Thank you, thank you for coming. Don't step there! And _please_ remember to pick up any AU characters from the checkroom on your way out. The management disavows any and all liability for unclaimed characters, who will be sold at auction at dawn...." His last view of the courtroom was of an insane Natpacker (he winced, gotta stop being so redundant!) bouncing lightly on her toes, a happy smile on her face, in front of a dazed-looking Poohbah who sat, surrounded by melted cheese whiz while a vampiric rodent napped on her head.