"An Un/Fortunate Meeting" by Laurie Schlagel and Dawn Steele Timing: After Maureen's "trial", and "The Great Escape" The "Lush" Nick is used with permission. Once the trial had recessed, Laurie Mercbard and Dawn staggered off in search of sustenance. They made a quick detour to the Bang Up Body Shop; Laurie wanted to give the van a quick paint job. "What color tonight, to celebrate it being ... well, night," she mused. "Maybe Blood Red?" "Yeah, that'll be real inconspicuous, good choice, " Dawn sneered. It was a weak sneer 'cause she'd never been very good at them, but a valient try nevertheless." "Then what about .... "CHOCOLATE-ICE CREAM!," they yelled in unison. Laurie looked at Dawn oddly. "Ice cream?" Dawn shrugged. "Sorry. Too many 'trial' cakes this spring when some friends were practicing to make their chocolate wedding cake. I'm slightly overdosed." *** With peace restored (we chopped out three pages of monotonous conversation and fighting in order not to try your patience), they got out of the van. Laurie began singing, offkey as usual, "White Christmas." Dawn made a face. Unfortunately, she'd just finished the stash of Ben&Jerry's she'd bought at a corner store and hadn't bought an emergency Merc store of chocolate; usually, if you gave Laurie a Hershey bar or two, she'd shut up. Besides it was the middle of June, at least it had been when this war had started, not December. Fortunately, Laurie for some miraculous reason, stopped of her own accord. Dawn made a mental note to thank the relevant Diety later. "I'm working on a merc theme song. The GHP said if I wrote one she liked, she'd waive the rent. Want to hear?" Laurie asked. "If I must," Dawn muttered. "I'm dreaming of a fudge sundae ... that I can smear all over Nick ...." "Forget it. This war is PG. Besides, mercs don't dream ... they DO. So let's get doing, shall we?" "What are we... ACK!" With a scream of dismay, arms windmilling in the air, Laurie frantically tried to regain her balance. Dawn managed to grab her arm just before she hit the pavement. They both turned simulaneously to the offending object. "It" was a pair of darkly camouflaged legs portruding onto the sidewalk. Attached to the legs was a dishelvelved looked, but still recognizable Nick Knight -- or rather a reasonable facsimile. "Anysbody gots a sBloody Mary?" He asked and waved an empty wine glass in the air. "I've been shlooking all over the splace!" After looking up and down the street for a "keeper," Laurie rubbed her leg where one of Nick's shoes must have jabbed her. "You know...this could have possibilities." Dawn shook her head and threw the empty ice cream container into the nearby garbage can. "Tell me you don't want to..." "I think we should take him to Merc HQ and see if we can hold him for ransom!" She smiled gleefully. "Thought so." *** "Any Reason for Objecting?" by Dawn Steele with help by Laurie Schlagel Time: After "An Un/Fortunate Meeting" Beta reading a plot suggestions by the Mercs mentioned within (Christina , John, Libby, Jennifer and Wooby). Tune and Lyrics courtesy of John Ewan da Ratpacker. Thanks for the input! :) ** Lush Nick used with permission. ** People were yelling all around him. He didn't like that -- it made him want another drink, and then another and then another... until he couldn't remember why he'd ever started. "No! He can't stay here!" "Please, Dianne? I just have to figure out whether to ransom him to the Knighties or the Cousins or even the Dark Knighties... uh, they probably wouldn't want him -- he's too nice and polite." "Laurie... " The voice broke, there was a couple of harsh coughs and then it started again (more softly). "If he causes any problems, then it'll be on bill. And that waiving of the rent in return for the Merc theme?" She paused, "take it up with Sara -- it's her house." Footsteps fading away and then he felt a hand patting him on the shoulder. When that didn't get a response (Nick just didn't have the energy), he felt a foot nudge him in the ribs. "What a lush. He's dead to the world." More footsteps fading away, and he managed to blearily open one eye just in time to see her fading form slip into a side room. After staring at the wall for about an hour and watching its embossed pattern perform intricate dances with the green lizards that were crawling all over them, he started to feel better. That wasn't good at all. He needed to find some more Bloody Mary's. Maybe there was a bar or a liquor cabinet around with some stock. He had figured out how to make them right... Using the wall for balance, he stumbled down the hall. Coming to an unmarked door, he tried the doornob. Unlocked. There was a faint squeak when he opened it. "Shlishhh..." An unsteady finger urged the door to be quiet, and then he entered the empty room. Or rather, entered the semi-empty room. The dresser was neat enough but there was a mulitude of small figures wearing strange costumes and foreign objects all over the bed. He stepped closer and tried to make all the multiple blurry images stop overlapping. After a minute he gave up and sat on the bed. He didn't even notice the crunching noises made when he crushed a few fragile objects that had been resting there. Reaching for a familiar object, he picked up what looked like a cross between a handgun and a machine gun. Pulling the trigger he watched a stream of water shoot out and soak the poster of the lady with the funny hairdo (he hadn't seen hair braided and wrapped around ears like that in centuries) and the white gown. Thoughtfully, he tucked it into his jacket and continued on his way. There weren't any drinks in here and things were starting to sharpen unpleasantly. Stairs? Stairs... bottles were usually to be found downstairs. Bottles full of red stuff that tasted good and nice and made the world go away... Nick finally saw a stairwell and lurched towards it. On the way he bumped into a hall table and knocked over the two cats that had been (previously) sleeping there peacefully. Startled meows filled the air and they stalked off after giving him "the look" of prime disdain. "sHere kiddy kiddy... " Nick mangled the air with his own attempts at a few friendly meows and patted the coffee table. "Didsn't mean to wake you up! Shleepy times!" They ignored him, and walked over to another door which they proceeded to "knock" cat-fashion (i.e. digging scratches into the wood). A head popped out, and a voice Nick didn't recognize greeted the two cats. "You've come to see Wooby then? I haven't been seeing many people this war..." The door closed again before Nick could go over and introduce himself (and possibly finagle a free drink), so he headed for the stairwell and (hopefully) some good stuff in bottles. The floor of the basement, when he staggered down to it, was full of little paper pieces with weird pictures on them. Nick turned round and round until he started getting dizzy (about 1.5 turns) and then spotted something odd about the brick wall. "sHidin' shings on me?" Sticking his eyes right next to the wall, he made a mighty effort to concentrate and, for a brief second, the world faded into shades of red. "I wash wight!" One section of the wall was different from the rest. Picking at the mortar between the bricks proved futile and he started banging his head against it in frustration. "Woosh!" That last hit had been almost a good as a double! He hit it a couple more times and then fell on his ass to the floor. Little stars swam around his head and a single white tuffed penguin dived bombed him before disappearing. Pieces of brick and odd bits of shiny metallic objects started raining around him. One large piece, rather bigger than the others fell right by his knee and Nick picked it up. A walkman complete with headphones! Carefully slipping them on, he pressed the PLAY button. "Show me the way ta go hooome, I'm tired and I wanna go to bed. I 'ad a lil drink 'bout an 'our ago, an' it went right tew my head. No matter where I roam, on land or sea or foam, ye'll always hear me singin' this song, show me the way ta go home. It was strange, and Nick could hardly make out the words over the accent but the music was catchy and he started to sway to the tune. Lucie LaCroix wuz 'crawlin' one night, upon the radio; 'is verbiage wuz all air-oo-dight and Nick-sympatico. t'was Father's Day and 'e 'ad much to say, 'bout 'filial piety'. but, when Divia appeared all agreeable, this led 'im to say, Was that about him? Sometimes he couldn't remember, couldn't remember... couldn't remember what he didn't want to remember, but wasn't that the whole point? There weren't any Bloody Mary's down here, that was obvious. It was time to search elsewhere. Nick wandered off. Headphones stuck in his ears. Show me the way ta go hooome, I'm tired and I wanna go to bed .... Catchy... catchy tune. Nick stumbled down the hall and watched perplexed as a figure emerged from the darkness. Rats scurried around his feet and swam around his tattered clothing. Unfamiliar, but... he seemed to be yelling something. Nickie Knight came 'ome one night, quite unexpectedly. He found his Nat abed, with 'er affinity. 'e grabbed ol' Screedy by da head, and 'eld on wit allus might, this caused the droogie to begin to shout, since he dint wanna fight, "sWhat?" He must have misheard that last verse. "Natsh?" Nat was very, very mad at him and he didn't know why... Nick squashed the unpleasant memory with a violent grimace. The lanky bald man moved closer and seemed agitated but Nick couldn't hear what he was saying over the music. He stepped back and tripped over some of the junk on the floor. On the way down he jostled the half-forgotten pistol. Working on fuzzy automatic, he pulled it out and pulled the trigger. A small burst of smoke arose from where the water hit the man's (vampire?) skin and he started moving away. With a few final mouthed curses and rude gestures, he disappeared. Nick fell all the way to the floor and stared at the ceiling. I 'ad a lil drink 'bout an 'our ago, an' it went right tew my head .... Then the music stopped. It was time for find something to drink. He needed a drink. He must've started hallucinating back there with that weird man. Another drink would fix him right up. After ripping the walkman off and throwing it to the floor, he lurched back to the stairs. Step by step, inch by inch, he managed to haul himself up to the main room of Merc Central, which was deserted. "Schgot to be a drinkie here somewhere ... His eyes lighted on a container sitting on the table. Liquid! He stepped toward it, managing to stay upright, picked it up, and sniffed it. A smell of chocolate, but underneath... pure alcoholic goodness! Yup, this would do. He took a swig. "Nosh Bloody Marys, mush be ... somethink else ..." Lacking the "Bloody" part of the "Bloody Mary", it burned unpleasantly on the way down but also managed to blur the world nicely. He was halfway to draining the container, when a movement from a door leading outside caught his eye. Clutching his prize, he swayed off to investigate. Stepping through the door, he promptly tripped (again) on the step and landed face down on the patio. Fortunately, the container was still intact. He pulled himself up by the side of the hot tub where he had fallen, and prepared to take another swig. Losing his balance, he found himself face down in the hot tub. "Nishe an warm in here," he thought. Might be a good place for a nap. Nah, what he needed was a ... "Whersh my drinkie?" he picked his head up, noticing the water had turned slightly ... brown and now smelled vaguely like hot chocolate. "All gone ... guesh I'll have ta find some more." He was about to leave the hot tup when he noticed the small table placed within easy reach, with a bar fridge tucked underneath. Lots of bottles of various colors and sizes were on top. Nick's eyes took on a glow that had nothing to do with vampirism. Bottle after bottle was peered at and then tipped over to the floor where they soon formed a pile of broken glass and streams of liquid. Rye, gin, sherry, wine, rum... where was the vodka he needed? He had to get a drink. Something with the proper ingredients! Pushing (and rolling over the edge) he got out of the hot tub and headed for an exit... any exit. It was time to get something good to drink because he certainly wasn't finding it here. Maybe a bar... *********************** In the aftermath of what came to be known as the "Nicolush" incident, a new clause was added to the charter to ensure that any kidnappee was kept under supervision and control at all times. Four separate "complaints" were sent to The Great High Poobah, i.e. Dianne la Merc. 1) Virginia Foster sent an itemized list of all the broken Star Wars figurines and a Star Wars original poster with water damage with a request for compensation and a door lock. 2) a series of paw prints formed by indian ink was found forming strange (and recognizable to Dianne) patterns all around Dianne's desk. 3) a rambling and almost indecipherable account of the matter (dictated to Libby by Screed) was written on the back of a kick-start the knight flyer, and 4) Sara Orel dumped a bill for the replacement of the liquor broken by the hot tub, and the hot tub repairman's estimate for the new filter. The matter is still under consideration.