"Training Your Natpacker the laMercenaire Way"
by Dianne la Mercenaire


<HEADER BABBLE>
Everyone used with permission. Major TYKs to Chris Kamnikar for major help
in developing the Merc 101 training regimen and to Jennie for a lesson in
electronics, Natpacker- style. ;-) And a nod to Boo, Lynn, Linda, and the
rest of the Natpack for quickly coughing up for me more than any lay
person needs to know about BP readings. 

Time: Somewhen after we left Jennie and Dianne (and the chinchilla, let's
not forget the chinchilla!) in the Merc courtroom at the end of "Knight
Court 6/6" and before the
Mercs-watching-TV-and-wrestling-vampiric-penguins in "Black & White & Red
All Over" 
</HEADER BABBLE>


Dianne stomped into the Grand High Poohbah's private office in her usual
cranky manner. Something about Wartime (or non- time) just seemed to make
her chronically *pissy*. 

Noting the gaping hole in her ceiling, underneath which still lay the
debris of two hot tubs (hers, naturally, was the one on the bottom), she
thought she just _might_ have remembered why. Here she'd only found out
she even had a private hot tub three lines before it was _toast_. It
simply wasn't fair. 

Dianne looked around quickly, then sighed. Last time she'd been in here
she'd found a surprise private sauna as well. If she'd only known, she'd
have had a much better time in previous Wars. In fact, she'd probably
never have bothered to leave the office. But nothing new and exciting
seemed in evidence at the moment.... 

She was brought out of her musings by the sight of the Natpacker following
her with a happy smile on her face and an undead chinchilla in a cage in
her arms. The Natpacker was _b**nc*ng_, as Natpackers will-- which meant
the cage was as well. The vampire chinchilla looked faintly nauseous. 

Dianne hoped it puked scorpion blood and cheese whiz all over Jennie's
shoes. 

"Ooooh! Is this the Poopbah's office?" The Natpacker asked way, way, *way*
too cheerily for this early in the... um...  'night'. 

"Poohbah, that's POOHBAH, Jennie. First lesson: it's Grand High
_Poohbah_." Dianne rubbed her head, feeling the beginnings of what was
sure to be a world-class migraine. "I am not a sound made by a tuba, I'm
the high and mighty destroyer of others' property! Okay?" 

"So *that's* what a Poohbah is," Chris said, wandering into her
Co-Leader's office at this juncture. She shook her head at the ruins of
the hot tubs. "Sara's still having a fit down in the kitchen. Something
about the liquor Nickolush consumed? Not to mention something about a
jacuzzi full of hot chocolate...." 

"Argh." 

"And she wanted to know where you thought you were going to put Jennie.
We're sorta full here, what with the Ratpack and all...." 

"The entire Ratpack _affliction_ has been kicked out on their fuzzy little
_butts_!" Dianne sighed. "But I'm not gonna put even a Natpacker down in
that hovel of a basement. Besides, who knows what AU characters will show
up next? Brickman?  Nickolush? Tracette and Nick the Rat? Romance Writer
Nick?  That Nat-Obsessed Screed of Abby's..." 

"_Libby's_" Chris corrected reflexively.

"Whatever," Dianne groused. "I _still_ vote we call all the Mercs
'Elizabeth' and be done with it. Would make my job a hell of a lot
easier," she muttered. 

Chris wisely ignored her. Jennie continued to bob slightly in place. 

"I swear! The place is turning into a freak hotel. Next you know we'll be
putting up penguins... LaCroix as a drag queen...  the Vachon fish... or,
Goddess help us all," she shuddered visibly, "*MarySue*!" 

Even the chinchilla shuddered at _that_ thought.

Then the chinchilla looked at Jennie... who looked at Chris...  who looked
back at Dianne. 

"O.k., o.k. Gimme a second to concentrate, Kiki! I have a plan, okay?
Jennie... Jennie is bunking in the dungeon," Dianne said triumphantly,
having just thought of this. "It's quiet, she won't disturb the others
with her bouncing, and it's easy to find. She won't get lost if she keeps
going downstairs." The GHP eyed Jennie speculatively. "Give her Maureen's
old suite. That's appropriate." 

Just at that moment they were interrupted by the arrival of a tall blond
in a shocking orange nehru jacket with eyes only for Jennie. "Ah!"  
<snap> "I've found you again" <snap> "My chinchilla-bearing
goddess"  <snap> "My vampire-supporting light" <snap> "Cool,
man" <snap>  <snap>  <snap>.

Chris and Dianne exchanged a look. This look clearly said:  "Blond and
happy and perky and ... beat? Argh. Must lock in broom closet!" 

And this is what Chris promptly did.

The GHP turned back to Jennie, relieving her of the chinchilla cage (to
the poor creature's obvious relief), and raising one eyebrow. "A male,
Beatnik Tracy?" 

Jennie shrugged. "He kinda followed me home."

Dianne rolled her eyes.


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


"O.k.," Dianne intoned solemnly to the woman who stood before her in the
Merc gym [Yes, we have one-- surprise!<g>], "The first lesson of
Mercdom is self-defense."

"What about the Poopbah thing?" Jennie offered helpfully. 

"That's *Pooh*-bah!" The Merc Leader made a visible effort to calm
herself, "and _fine_, make this the second thing, o.k.?" 

"O.K."

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

The Mercs-- not being a slow bunch, on the whole-- had vanished _en
masse_. Only Chris stayed, confident that, no matter what the provocation,
Dee would _never_ turn on her Trill.... 

Besides, she'd managed to plant a tiny little blood-pressure device in the
sweatband the GHP was wearing on one arm. She figured, given the lack of
measurable time, she'd see if she could register events based solely on
Dianne's BP levels. Purely in the interests of _science_, of course. 

*+.+*+.+*+.+* 
[120/80-- reasonably normal]

+MERC 1A (Remedial Series): Basic Self-Defense+

"O.k., ready?"

"Ready!"

<whap>

<*THWAP*>

"Ow!  Where did *you* learn *that*?"

"I always played this game with my brothers.  It's fun," Jennie beamed. 
"It's more fun with more players, though," she frowned. 

Dianne was rubbing her shoulder as she looked over at Chris for moral
support. However, her Second-in-Command was too busy laughing her *ss off
in the corner to be of much help. 

"I didn't hit you too hard, did I?" Jennie asked, concerned.  "Because, if
I did, I have band-aids and gauze and antiseptic and ace bandages and an
ice pack and analgesics and aspirin and...." 

"I'm _fine_!" Dianne growled.

"Well, I'm just checking 'cuz Mom always told us we had to play carefully.
She said the nice people in the emergency room who always knew all our
names needed to rest because we were making them work too hard." 

"I'll bet...."


*+.+*+.+*+.+*
[125/85 -- a bit testy]

+MERC 2A: Basic Sneaking+

<sneak>

<sneak>

<sn...*CRASH!*>

<_groan_>

"Um... I _meant_ to do that..."


*+.+*+.+*+.+*
[130/90 -- mildly steamed]

+MERC 3A: Basic Lying and Scheming+

"I agree, MarySue," <bounce> "That's the most wretched,"  
<bounce> "awful," <bounce> "tragic" <bounce> "thing I've
ever"  <bounce> "heard!"

<sigh> "Try to keep a grip on that vertical hold, o.k.?"

"O.k.!"

"Again..."

"No, MarySue," <bounce> "I'm just *fascinated*" <bounce> "... 
Really!" 

<_moan_...>


*+.+*+.+*+.+*
[140/100 -- seriously pissy]

(The results of MERC 4A: Elementary Car Chase Conduct were just too
painful [not to mention disastrously expensive] to record.) 


*+.+*+.+*+.+*
[145/105 -- losin' it fast...]

+MERC 5A: Basic Wiretapping and Other Dubious Electronics+

"Ok, now...do you remember which order to attach the wires in?" 

"Uh-huh.  Green goes first, Red stops and waits.  Blueberry filling in the
middle...umm...that's green, blue, red, right?"  She concluded dubiously. 

"That's right, dear," the GHP patted the Natpacker's shoulder
encouragingly. 

"I like the colors in the middle better, though," the Merc- trainee mused.
"They're prettier. Brighter and shini--*zap*" 

<_sigh_>


(All in all, the phrase "I bet MacGyver could just do it like *this*" was
heard rather too frequently for the comfort of the innocent bystanders...
or, rather, 'innocent bystander'... or, rather, 'bystander'... or, well,
_Chris_.) 


*+.+*+.+*+.+*
[150/110 -- just-this-side-of-'ballistic']

+MERC 5A: Basic Negotiation+

" 'Hello, Jennie. I'm a Cousin and I want you to torture Nick.' "

"O.k.!" <bounce>

"*NO!* _Payment_, remember? Always make them *pay*!"

"Why?"

"Because we're _Mercs_; it's what we do!"

"Why?"

"To get chocolate! Or something else we want."

"Why?"

"Because we want it!"

"Why?"

<pause, muttering: '1...2...3...4...5...6...7...8...9...10!'> "O.k.,
imagine we're talking Halo-boy tapes here. Do it so you can have my
Halo-boy tapes." 

"But I already have Halo-boy tapes."

"_New_ ones! I have ones you've never seen before!"

"Oooooooh!"  <soft clink of light bulb>

"Yeah, that's it: I have new Halo-boy tapes! Now, make me give them to
you. Ready?" 

"Ready!"

" 'Hello, Jennie. I'm a Cousin and I want you to torture Nick.' "

"O.k.!"

"ARGHHHHHH!!!!"


*+.+*+.+*+.+*

Before any of the veins on the GHP's forehead or neck could actually
_blow_, Chris had Jennie safely locked back up in the dungeon. 

She's the Second-In-Command; That's her job.

*+.+*+.+*+.+*

It was only after she returned to her cozy dungeon chamber that Jennie
noticed the absence of her precious Halo-boy tapes. 

The realization was *not* a pleasant one.