***Thursday, November 2, 1995*** TOUCHDOWN IN TORONTO by Laura B. Waskey Time: Midnight Place: Toronto As the pilot of the Air Canada flight announced that they would be landing in Toronto in ten minutes, Cousin Laura breathed a sigh of relief. She was late, late for a VERY important date. It had been almost twenty-four hours since Uncle had called her at her home in Baltimore and told her to be on the next plane to Toronto. Uncle would not be pleased that she was late, there was *no* excuse in his mind for disobeying his orders! Oh, how she dreaded that confrontation. She would be lucky if LaCroix didn't kill her before she had a chance to explain! Yet, how could she explain that the reason why she had not arrived in Toronto ASAP was: car problems. Yes, it seems some creative Natpackers(although she was just guessing it was Natpackers, but who else would do this?) had decided to fill her car with Q-tips! Q-tips had been everywhere, in her gas tank, in the radiator and at least 10,000 white, fluffy swabs had been crammed into the inside of her blue Chevy Corsica. Since she lived in a rural area, she figured that the perpatrators of the heinous act had seen her "Nightcrawler" bumper stickers and had followed her home from that Halloween bash in Fell's Point. Then,as she lay in her bed in a drunken stupor, the vandals had trashed and immobilized her car!! Only later when she had received the phone call from LaCroix and had rushed out to her car to drive to the airport had she realized that she wouldn't be going anywhere for awhile. Only after waiting 4 hours for AAA to arrive and tow her to a nearby gas station, did Laura know that she would not arrive in Toronto in time for the Pow-wow of Cousins decending on the Raven. She just hoped Uncle did not notice her absence... From that point on, getting to the airport was an ordeal. At the gas station she had called Hertz to rent a car, however due to weather problems, they couldn't get her a car for another 5 hours. So, like the true, dedicated Cousin she was, she had hitchhiked to the airport. Only her "savior", the man who had picked her up on the side of the road and promised to drive her right to BWI, was actually more like Charles Manson Jr. After bailing out of the car,in fear of her life. Laura had been resigned to walk the last 30 miles to the airport. Where of course, because of weather, her flight to Toronto had been delayed. So, she hadn't gotten off the ground until 11:00 p.m. November 1,1995, Gosh, what a shi**y day! Pulling herself out of that flashback, Laura remembered what LaCroix had told her about the mission she was on. She was to catch two troublemaking Natpackers that Uncle had seen in the Raven on Halloween night. This was right before all hell had broken loose, of course. Coincidence? Uncle didn't think so,not where these two Natpackers were concerned and Laura knew that from past dealing with Leslie and Jill Kirby that they weren't as innocent as looked. LaCroix had recognized the two from Crescent City Con and when they had come into the Raven, well, he was suspicious. Apparently, both had been at CCC to meet Uncle this past summer. They had probably been plotting since then to harm LaCroix's reputation. So, when Uncle had seen them running out of the Raven as his sprinkler system went off and the stereo system started spitting out show tunes, he had known that somehow those two had been involved! As the plane taxied toward the terminal, Cousin Laura quickly started planning her strategy. Uncle wanted Leslie and Jill brought to the Raven for "questioning" about the sprinkler incident. And as a former police officer, she knew how to track down dangerous criminals, so two Natpackers shouldn't be hard to stuff and cuff, she thought. As soon as she got to the Raven and had begged for forgiveness to Uncle about her tardyness, she would call a couple of Toronto cops she knew from her old days on the force. That way she could get them to check the NCIC computer to see if the two Natpackers had rap sheets and she could get their driver's licenses and registrations for their vechiles; which would make trailing them so much easier. Plus, she would call her friend, Linda at Border Patrol and see if the two had crossesd the border lately. Ah, the thrill of the chase. Laura loved that part of her job. She was like a bloodhound once she got someone's scent and she wouldn't stop until Leslie and Jill were caught and brought quiverring before Uncle. Yes, Uncle was right, hunting humans was fun! Yep, she could practically guarantee that Leslie and Jill would be in Uncle's "loving" arms by sunset this evening. He would be so pleased, and maybe that way she could worm her way out of her punishment for being arriving so late. Yes, soon she would have the two in her sights, all she had to do now was wait for the plane to deboard and then it was off to hunt for her prey in the wilds of Toronto. ### LIFE'S A BEACH [Or whatever you wanna re-name it] by Amy Hull and the NatPack Time: 2am EST Tara got home from work, dropped her stuff by the door, and headed for Blue Max, the faster and better replacement for poor Bollux, who had been fried by a lightning bolt a year and a half before. She began to access her email, having decided to read mail for a break and then do homework. It was only a moment before she began to curse in Japanese. *At least no one can say anime isn't educational* she thought grumblingly, surveying the settings on the computer and the layout of her desk. Her sister had used the computer lately, and had turned things off incorrectly as well as shifting the location of the items on the desk. Tara was about to yell for her sister to explain again how *her* computer should be left when the mail came up on the screen and the subject line of a message from one of the lists she owned caught her attention: Due South merge with Baywatch a go! Leaving private mail for later, she opened the message and read the brief explanation, which included a Web address offering further information. Moments later, a Web page was displayed on her screen, proudly emblazoned with a synopsis of the revised series and new publicity photos. Tara shuddered at the still of Frasier and Diefenbaker, against a bright blue sky on a white, sandy beach, facing the camera seriously while Ray smiled approvingly at a nearby, scantily-clad woman. Then she turned to the text: "_Due South_ has been retooled to appeal to a broader audience. Its move from a Chicago setting to one in Palm Springs will draw viewers from both FL and CA, as the state is unspecified. There is also an increased emphasis on the beautiful extras, who will wear fashionable swimwear. The important elements of the show remain intact: Fraser continues to proudly wear his Mountie uniform and to fight for the underdog and rescue those others would choose to give up on. See the attached mini-movie for footage." Not sure she wanted to see this, but needing all the information she could get before dealing with the problem, Tara clicked on the movie. A person was clearly drowning in the choppy ocean, a little farther from shore then they should have been. A red shape splashed into the waves and a broad-brimmed hat appeared above them, moving surely toward the faltering form. Grabbing the person in appropriate lifeguard fashion, Fraser, hat still in place, pulled the woman to shore. When they emerged from the water, she coughed, then smiled up at Fraser and kissed him. Tara stared at the frozen image, in shock for a moment. Then several curses she had learned from Monica, ranging from Welsh to Czech, erupted and she exited the Web and opened MS Word. She searched her directories for her address book, but it didn't turn up. "Fine," she muttered, diving for the pile that housed her hard copy of her addresses and phone numbers. Two hours later, the apartment was in a shambles, and the address book was nowhere to be found. The only thing she did find was another pack of candy cigarettes where she thought she had seen the address book last. ### SHOESTRING BUDGETS AND LOTTERY TICKETS Or: One Cousin's Luck by J. Michele Freemon Time: Wee hours Place: Michele's home It was the day after Samhain. Michele sighed softly and waved one last time as the little grey hatchback clanked its way out of her parking lot, bearing her honey on his slow way back to Dallas. Gathering up her assorted junk, she rushed out of the small apartment, calling a quick goodbye to the two bored cats and miraculously making it to Gallup only fifteen minutes late. Six hours and nineteen CNN polls later, she filled in the totals on her timesheet and grinned. 'Two more days like this and the next paycheck will cover a shopping spree at BookWoman!' she thought optimistically. Glancing around at the rows of empty carrels, she shook her head. 'Last one out again... You'd think someplace open from two to midnight would employ more night people.' Home once again, she balanced the twelve pack of Diet Pepsi on one hip to unlock the door, one foot braced to stop any escape attempts. "Uh uh, Tiger! One four day odyssey is enough for any de-clawed cat... not to mention the strain on my poor nerves," she admonished, closing the door firmly behind her. Dumping this and that here and there, she pulled out the pitiful remains of her last paycheck and surveyed it with a grimace. 'If I can just hold on 'til the next paycheck. Things'll be better after the next paycheck.' she consoled herself. 'Yeah, right, that's what you've said for the last five paychecks now,' the more pragmatic part of her mind muttered. Another fifteen minutes and Michele was firmly ensconsed in front of the glowing green screen, cigarette lit and Diet Pepsi close at hand. "I love that man, but two days with no computer time was about to drive me nuts!" she remarked to no one, a grin on her face. "Ah, well, I'll make up for it tonight. Quick check of the email and it's MUSH, MUSH, MUSH, all night long!" Starting up pine, she tabbed to the fkfic folder and eeped. "125 messages?! What the... Oh, no!!" came the involuntary exclamations as her eyes lit on the WAR: prefixing all but a very few posts. She dropped her head onto the keyboard, ignoring the angry beeping this provoked. "Not a war!" she moaned, "I can't afford a war right now!" Lifting her head with a determined look, she straightened out the mess her outburst had created and started reading. "If Uncle wants me in on this one, he'll just have to pay my bills," she muttered, not -too- loudly. "I guess this explains the cotton and that odd picture," came the afterthought. Five hours and several evil tricks later, she'd changed her mind. Peeling herself out of the chair, she scooped the decidedly un-thick sheaf of bills from the wicker basket on the microwave and counted them again. 'Twenty bucks. That's all I can risk,' she thought firmly. Locking the door behind her, she trudged across the street to the Kwik Mart and stood in line behind the early morning commuters, the overpowering smell of coffee turning her stomach. "I'll take three each of the dollar tickets and one two dollar one," she told Ahmed, who blinked in surprise, then shrugged stoically and started tearing off lottery tickets. "Oh, and a box of Marlboro Lights 100s," she added, digging for her laudry money. 'One of the other cousins can surely find me a washing machine,' she told herself, handing over a twenty and two dollars in quarters. Not bothering to wait until she was back in her efficiency, she stopped at the convenient surface of the pay phones and started scratching. Ticket after ticket yielded nothing and she was beginning to despair when she uncovered one, two, three little squares bearing the logo '$1000' in small black print. Unmindful of the tender ears of the early risers around her, she screamed in glee and started bouncing up and down. Her cries of "I'm going to war! I'm going to war! I'm going to war!" did not exactly match the broad grin on her face, but most of the passersby just shrugged. "Yet another Austin nutcase," one of the suited men muttered. ### THE RAVENETTE'S RETORT by Felicia Bollin Time: 4am EST Place: En route to Toronto Thank goodness for AOL. I knew I griped about it a lot, but it was really handy, being able to choose to hold your outgoing mail until the ingoing mail came in. "Oh, Jamie, you naughty little Cousin, you...." Leave it to *Tracy* to fall for a story like that. Ohhhh, Janette would not be pleased...the only time Nick ever coaxed her into a bikini, and Jamie had taken away the proof of that moment in one fell swoop. But I knew exactly, exactly what to do. The problem was; it was mean, and it was easy. And Janette wasn't the mean and easy type. But then again, I wasn't Janette. What the hey, I reopened Catherine's letter. Thank goodness she planned to be at the precinct, our proscribed meeting place, bright and early. Why, I mused innocently, wouldn't it be a surprise when Nick (not to mention, Tracy and Reese, since of course all the division computers were networked) went to boot up his police computer, to find it now covered from head to foot in little tiny .gifs of Nick and Janette in cozy/sultry positions? He would be so pleased--though Nat would NOT. ### HOW MANY TUNAS ON THAT CD? (b) by Susan Garrett Time: Early morning Place: Toronto, Nat's apartment The banging on the door hadn't gone away. Jill raised her head sleepily--the Nat-Pack were stirring. Amy's hand was fluttering away and Jill was just as happy she didn't readily recognize what Amy might be signing. Mary G.T. had managed a single snore and then lay still--they'd checked for a pulse every now and again, just to make certain she was still with them. Leslie's head popped out of a sleeping bag and she sat up, rubbing her eyes and Jennie groaned from the other couch. "Guess it's up to me," sighed Jill, after seeing only the briefest signs of life from Amparo. Peeling herself from the futon, she grabbed a blanket as she passed and threw it around her. Her hand reached for the chain on the door-- And then she stopped, cold. Nat was still at work. What if it was Nick? What if it was another vampire . . . like LaCroix? With so many Nat-Packers being ex-Cousins, it wasn't out of the realms of possibility for LaCroix to come 'collecting.' Then again, LaCroix or another vampire probably wouldn't bother knocking . . . . "Who is it?" she asked grouchily, as the pounding started again. "Delivery for Nat-Pack Central," said an unfamiliar voice. "Yeah. Why don't you just say 'candygram'?" countered Jill.* By now the Natpack had begun to regain consciousness . . . or some form thereof. When Jill looked over her shoulder, she met Leslie's gaze. "What do you think? How would somebody know we were here?" "Process of elimination," said Amparo. "It's only logical. We'd be where Nat is." "Could be from one of us--like Selma," Leslie offered. She slid out of the sleeping bag and knelt on it. "Can we afford not to open it?" The knocking started again. "For God's sake, somebody stop that bloody noise!" declared G.T., who promptly turned over, let out a slight snore, then fell into unconsciousness again. "Oh, let's open it," said Amy. "It be something nice." "Yeah. Right." Jill picked up a light wooden chair by the door. "I'll hang back here, so I can bash him if he tries anything." Shaking her head, Amy pushed her hair to either side of her face, walked to the door, and opened it a crack. "Yes?" "Delivery." A largish hand turned a clipboard sideways and thrust it through the door. "Just sign here, lady." "Lady?" Amy giggled as she took the clipboard. "He called me 'lady.' Isn't that ?" Leslie was at the door, as was Amparo. (Jennie was still checking on GT--sometimes it took a while to find a pulse, especially after drinking 25 year old scotch, which Nat seemed to like almost as much as GT.) Leslie peered over Amy's shoulder. "Is that really . . . McDonalds?" "McDonalds?" Amparo frowned. "Well, it looks like it. One hundred cartons of--wait a minute, it's smudged." "It's food," corrected Jill, still holding the chair aloft and feeling more than slightly grumpy because of it. Sometimes Nat-Packers just had no sense of self-preservation! "Maybe the FoD's sent it. They usually cater wars." "They'd send us something better than McDonalds," Leslie countered. "FoD's have standards." There was another series of loud knocks at the door, followed by a bellowing voice, "Lady, just give me the clipboard, okay? Me and the boys've got ten more trips this morning. You don't want to see the Toronto P.D. go to work without their egg McMuffins, do you?" There was a 'yipe' from the couch. Jennie was sitting on the floor, GT's arm around her neck, pinning her. "Yep," she declared, voice hoarse, "she's still alive." "Don't forget, we'll have to feed Sharon when she gets back," warned Amparo. Jill grinned. "Jail food being what it is, she'd go through at least forty cases of anything in no time." "One minute," Amy called. She carefully placed her signature at the bottom of the clipboard, closed the door, then pulled back the chain. The Natpack breathed a collective sigh of relief when they saw four deliverymen with handcarts of boxes standing in the doorway. "Thanks, lady," said the delivery man, as he took back the clipboard. He tucked the pen in his top pocket, dropped the clipboard on the pile of cartons, then wheeled the cases into the hall, forcing the Nat-Packers back. "Where do you want it?" "The dining room?" suggested Amparo, stepping aside as the parade of dollies moved past her. The men worked quickly, dumping their load, then heading out for the next batch. "We'll have to make a few trips," called the delivery man over his shoulder. After freeing Jennie from G.T.'s somnambulant grip (actually, Jill helped, once she put down the chair), Leslie peered at the writing on one side of the box. "I think it says 'fish sandwiches.'" Amy wrinkled her nose. "Ick. You know, you go into McDonalds every five years and get one of those things, because you can't remember why you don't like them. Then, as soon as you taste it, it's even worse than you remember." "Uh, oh," noted Jill. "It says 'frozen' fish sandwiches." The Nat-Packers stared at one another in horror. "But they can't be fish sandwiches," groaned Amy. The deliverymen had just arrived and were unloading more boxes around the conscious and semi-conscious Natpackers. "Are they fish sandwiches?" asked Leslie. The deliveryman just stared at her. "Yeah. One hundred cartons of frozen fish sandwiches. Jeez, don't you people read what you sign?" Amy grabbed his sleeve and was dragged after him as he headed for the door. "No! You have to take them back. We don't have any freezers that big!" The deliveryman stopped and the other deliverymen pried Amy from his sleeve. "Sorry, lady--you signed for them, they're yours now. We got fifty more cases to bring up, then it's your problem." "What are we going to do with fifty cases of frozen McDonald's fish sandwiches?" asked Leslie, horrified. Jill shrugged as she pried open one of the cases, just to check the contents. "Warm up the oven and have a fish bake?" "Too bad Sydney's with Selma," said Amparo sadly. "Although he probably would have gotten sick from overeating." "All you need is one of these to get sick," corrected Amy. She held her fingers over her nose. "Amb I crabzy or are dese startding to smellb?" Jennie grabbed the top box, steadying it when the stack nearly toppled and fell on Jill. "Wait a minute--they're whitefish, aren't they? And tuna's a white fish, isn't it? You don't suppose we could use these in case--?"** The delivery men were back, trundling down the hallway with the next load of boxes. From the doorway they heard Nat's voice saying, "What in the world is going on?" G.T. let out a snore, turned over, and fell to the floor with a thump. Leslie moved back in surprise and the boxes began to fall like dominos, sending Natpackers and frozen fish sandwiches scattering around the room, just as natalie walked in. "Hello," said GT brightly, sitting up and bushing her red hair from her face with one hand. "Have I missed anything?" * Old 'Saturday Night Live' joke from back when it was funny. ** Obligatory tuna war joke. Watch the Friday the 13th bloopers. ### *WHO* HAS THEM? by Perri Smith w/ input Time: Early morning Place: Nick's loft All in all, this was more of a night then Nick had bargained for. "Amy, stop yelling," he ordered absently, as the curses invaded his thought processes again. "Now, when was the last time you saw the ladies?" "Last night," Catherine answered. "Before we went out to, um..." "Break and enter The Raven and CERK" Nick finished for her. "And we'll talk about that later." "But Nick, they attacked first!" Perri defended the others. "Fair's fair! We only retaliated!" "You don't even know for sure who did it," Nick snapped. "You immediately pinned it on the cousins." Fifteen baleful glances landed on him. "All right, they're the most likely suspects," he conceded. "For the bricks, anyway." "And for this," Marina said definitely. "The Ravenettes are too smart to go sending out ransom demands with a Ravens on them. It *has* to be the cousins!" "She's right," Perri pointed out. "Kidnapping lacks class - only Mercs or Cousins would pull this. And then there's what they did to your computer!" "All right, I'll accept that it's probably one or more cousins," Nick conceded again. "Right now, the important thing is to find them." He shok his head. "I should never have brought all of you up here to begin with." A round of raspberries followed that remark. "Kind of hard to keep us away after they bricked Scottie in," Amy Potter said from the corner. "And, to quote Natalie, We knew the risks when we signed on." Nick sighed. "I'm going to put an APB out for the ladies. Maybe someone saw them get taken." He went to use the phone. Perri had another idea. "Maybe there's another way we can do this. Between the Vaqueros, the NatPack, the N&NPack and the FoDs, we must have enough people here to cover a small city. Let's see if anyone's heard anything." "That was the point of the alliance," Amy commented. Nick looked up from the phone. "Guys, you know the descriptions better than I do. Give them to me." then, to whoever was on the phone, "What do you mean, wanted for what? They're wanted because I need them and can't find them!" After ten minutes of relaying descriptions - "Well, Scottie's kind of short." "No she's not, she's my height." "*You're* kind of short" - the APB finally got out to an amused dispatcher. Nick hung up and started to go back to the group. The phone rang again before he got more than a few feet. "Yeah, Nick Knight. Perri? It's for you?" Perri raised an eyebrow, then answered the phone. "Torrey? You must be psychic I was just going to call you. We've got thre Knighties kidnapped and..." "I know," Torrey interuppted. "I don't have much time we're, ah, kind of in the middle of something. But we - Vachon and the Vaqueros - just ran into Christy, the RatPacker who heard from Screed and, well, Screed has your people." Perri stopped lounging against the table. "What? Where?" "His usual hang-out, under the sewers. I don't think he's too keen on having them there - apparently, Scottie's having some kind of nicfit and hollering out threats for cigarettes. Marcia keeps yelling about the rats, and they're all driving Screed up the wall. He wants them out, but a Cousin threatened him with LaCroix's wrath if he let them go." "Sounds like a rescue is in order," Perri said, thinking furiously. "We're on our way. Thanks, Torrey, we owe you." "I know. I'll remember." On that note, she hung up, and Perri spun to face the Knighties. "we found them." "Where?" Nick asked. "Screed." "I'll kill him," Nick growled. Perri stopped him before he made it more than a few steps towards the window. "Wait! He's doing it under protest - it *was* the Cousins. They threatened to sic LaCroix on him." Nick stopped. "Then what do you suggest we do? Let him have them for lunch." "Yeah, right," AmyD said. "No, all we need is a Plan." "Like?" at least three people asked. "Like..." Amy laid it out. ### TROUBLE COMES TO PARADISE... by John Ewan Time: Early morning Place: Key West ***Notice: The material included in the flashback is purely to satisfy contractual obligations to the USA Network and not to satisfy any prurient interest on my part.*** John strolled into his cubicle at work, early one morning, as usual. "Another fine day in Key West!" he thought. He got himself a cup of tea, as usual, and sat down in front of his computer to read e-mail, as usual. He flipped his ponytail over the back of the chair as he leaned back, his eyes scanning the list of messages. "Toronto Department of Streets? Why would they be sending me email?", John muttered, as he clicked open the message, "Wha-? Must be garbled... Geez, is that supposed to be a word? No, it's signed 'Screed'. Screed...." The scene fades from the brightly lit office to a small, crowded showroom in Las Vegas. Since only couples get the seats at the tables down in front of the stage, John is sitting in the chairs on the risers at the back of the room. The room is very crowded with people from the COMDEX convention. John sips his martini from the plastic cup and awaits the start of the "Crazy Girls" revue. He is really looking forward to this show since he had recently met one of the performers. One of the spokesmodels for the convention booth he is working at is performing in this topless revue. A skinny bald-headed guy sits down next to him and with an enthusiatic, leering smile blathers in overdrive for a full minute. "What the hell did he say?" John thought, plastering an insipid grin on his face, "I wish I had a rewind button or subtitles, maybe then I could understand this dude." Happily, the show begins before John has to attempt any kind of reply. Seven gorgeous women dance onto the stage, dressed in brilliant, though scanty costumes. "Great, how am I gonna recognize her!" John thought, "Their faces are covered by masks and what I *can* see was mostly covered up today. Hmmm, good show, so far....." John comes out of his reverie; someone else is in the office, checking the answering machine. Slowly deciphering the email, John chuckles and shakes his head, "Come to Toronto!?! I don't think so! It gets below '70 degrees in Toronto!" John ponders, "I don't know if I even own a pair of long pants anymore. Nah, getting off from work would be tough enough, but trying to convince Kathy that she should stay home with Katie while I hie off to Canada to see Screed. She never liked the way he eyed Bingo and Jinx, but, hey, any cats that can wear out a scorpion that invades our place can handle Screed! But, I can understand why she moved Scrapper into our bedroom; he may be the toughest little hamster going, no need to take chances." John smiled as he read down the list of messages. "It had been a fun week in Las Vegas; the Multi-Player Games Network booth was flashy without going overboard. The spokesmodels liked working for us; demonstrating online games was a cool job, we even trained them before-hand instead of expecting them to just 'smile and point' and they got to wear sneakers instead of heels all day!" John types, and begins to surf the 'net. "It's not like I owe him." he thought. "Neither of us could gamble worth a damn, but, he did help me get back out of the hole at the table that time. I more than made up for it *that* weekend...." The small group huddled backstage, whispering. John looks the statuesque blonde in the eye and plaintively said, "I'm sorry! I thought it would be cool to get backstage at the 'Sigfried and Roy Show'! You agreed to let Screed come along, since he was just as leering a fan of yours as I am!" The woman crosses her arms and begins tapping her foot while she gives John *that* look. A thought flashes across his mind, "My wife and daughter look at me that way! Yeesh!" John glances around, "Look; we can't be certain Screed had anything to do with the white Bengals being all sleepy or sick. We can't find him, I doubt anyone else will. Let's just get out of here." A horrendous scream rips the silence! John jumps, tea splashing. "When is someone gonna take that Hallowe'en 'Welcome Mat' home?" He yells. He stands up to dry himself off and sees that the woman in Billing is taking down the decorations. ### SIGHTSEEING (a) by Jennifer Mingee and Dawn Steele Time: Shortly after dawn Place: Die Hard Headquarters Jennifer awoke to Tasha's customary morning whimper for food. "Okay, Tasha, I'm up, I'm up. I *know* you have to be fed at dawn or else you wither to dust." Moving quietly so as not to disturb the others sleeping around her, she dressed after feeding her trusty hound and prepared to take the dog for a short walk to "take care of business." Grabbing her coat and her security card on the way out the door, Jennifer hummed to herself. She was actually *here* in Toronto! She didn't think she'd ever want to come this far north. After stepping outside into the brisk morning air, she wondered just *why* it was she decided she had to come in the first place. //Lordy, it's cold out here!// she thought to herself. After all, in Texas, water freezes at 70 degrees. //It's just too cold up here. This is not a place where humans were meant to live.// Tasha's pulls on the leash yanked her out of her anti-cold-weather thoughts. //Well, the sooner Tasha is done, the sooner I can get back where it's warm.// The morning toiletries dispensed with, both dog and human hurried back to the building. Maybe others were awake now. If not, that meant that Jennifer would have plenty of hot water for a shower. After showering and getting dressed, Jennifer was disappointed that no one else was awake but Tasha. As always, the soft glow of the computer beckoned to her, and she was soon soothed by the company of her electronic equipment. The surveilance equipment had done its job properly the night before, so she properly labeled and archived the tape when she changed it. //Never know when these tapes might be useful. I am kinda surprised that I got all the software and hardware to work together on the first try!// she thought, pleased. //Now if I can have this sort of luck with all the new equipment.// Satisfied that her current equipment setup was working as anticipated, she turned her thoughts to other matters. Someone *had* to have had a lot of money to have bought all those silly cards with those unmentionable song chips. Jennifer figured that the DieHards weren't the only ones who had gotten "gifts," either. Other factions had to have been "gifted" as well. Hmmm. The DieHards were funded by a coalition of occasional vampire characters. However, how did the other factions get their funding? Uncle, she figured, wouldn't have a problem with funding his devotees -- within reason, of course. Janette -- ah, poor absent Janette, she sighed -- would no doubt have money to fund her faction and would have no qualms doing so. Unaccounted for were the Natpackers, the Knighties, the Vaqueros, the Ratpackers, the FoDs, and the Perkalator. There was no way Tracy could fund a faction on a cop's salary. //No wonder it's a faction of one// she snickered. The Ratpackers and the Vaqueros were in the same boat. What kind of money could a vampire living in a *sewer* have? And one living in an *abandoned church*? Neither of them had much, if any, money. The FoDs had the profits from their deli, which gave them a reasonable budget. Natalie could probably make some contributions to her faction, but couldn't fund it completely. That left only the Knighties. //Geez, Nick probably gave them some money from the deBrabant Foundation.// Jennifer sighed. Oh, to have that sort of money available for war. Or...was that money available? Didn't the deBrabant Foundation have some sort of "charitable" charter? It might pay to find out. She bent over her keyboard and began hacking away, her curiosity driving her to take a look at the deBrabant Foundations's finances. A couple of hours later, the DieHards began to stir. People wandered in and out of the shower, raided the well-stocked kitchen, and generally came to life. Jane was the first to notice that Jennifer was still oblivious to the activity, mesmerised by her computer screen. "Jen, weren't you the one who wanted to go sightseeing? I think everyone who's going to go is up now. Laura is going to stay behind to recover from her dramamine dosage and time zone changes." Jane stared at the back of Jennifer's head, as Jennifer gave no sign that she heard her. Jane then tapped her on the shoulder. "Wah-aah!" Jennifer jumped, startled. "Oh, hi, Jane. You're up." Jennifer looked around. "Wow, everyone's up. Does anyone want to go see Toronto?" Jane sighed. Jennifer hadn't heard a word she said. Those computer types were *so* oblivious!! Patiently she repeated herself. "Laura is going to stay, but the rest of us are going. Hey, what are you doing?" "I'm checking out the finances of the deBrabant Foundation. I wonder if it's legal for Knighties to get funding from there. I've got all the financial data downloaded, but I can't make heads or tails of it. I'm an engineer, not an accountant. Maybe somebody else can take a look at these figures and see if there's something unusual about them." Her eyes brightened. "Let's go *do* this town!" Jane figured, as a Toronto resident, that she'd act as tour guide. "Where does everyone want to go first? There are the typical sights to see, like the Raven, Nick's loft, the Tower, and Nick's precinct headquarters. Where else do we want to go, and where to we want to go first?" "The Raven won't be any fun this time of day," Helen noted. "And Nick's loft won't be interesting if we can't go inside," sighed Lillian. "So let's go see police headquarters. We can decide on the way where we want to go from there. Murmurs of assent met Jane's ears as everyone gathered their coats and security cards. Ariel, Helen, and Leah were first out the door. Jane made sure the refrigerator door was shut before heading for the elevator. Lillian, Lana, and Dawn impatiently waited for Jennifer as she said goodbye to Tasha, surprised at the production. At last, they were all ready. They were off to see the city, the wonderful city of Oz... uh, Toronto. The Die Hards moved "en mass" out the door of Die Hard headquarters and down the street. Jane, as their resident Toronto expert, led them quickly to the closest subway entrance. Dawn's suggestion of buying $5 metro travel coupons was quickly taken up. The coupons allowed the beared to That way they could travel all the bus services or subways all day without having to keep track of subway tokens and transfer slip. A necessary plan if they were going to do some serious sightseeing. The Die Hards were going to be in Toronto for the forseeable future, and none of them wanted to miss the opportunity. They weren't being actively attacked at the moment and it was a bit too soon for peace treaties. The Die Hards (Dawn, Lana, Leah, Lillian, Helen, Ariel, Jane, and Jennifer) started to go through Toronto with a vengeance. They quickly checked out the Police Headquarters, and managed to beg a tour of the division. Familiarizing themselves with the set-up and watching in an amused fashion the various computer problems that Nick and Tracy's division seemed to be having. Having done that, they checked out the next item on their list... And got seriously, semi-permanently stuck. There was no physical, or mental way that they could get through a quick trip of the ROM (Royal Ontario Museum). From the gorgeous ceiling at the entrance, the medieval exhibits, the weapons exhibits, the pottery exhibits, the clothing exhibits, the talks about what was shot where during "Dark Knight", the... They finally stumbled out about four-thirty in the afternoon. Footsore and weary, they sat down on some nearby benches. "What a day!" Dawn said. "Tell me about it." Lana replied. They savored the moment of silence, and then Ariel, Leah and Helen moved towards the others. They had been whispering together for the last few minutes. Leah was the first to speak. "You all know what happened last night." Her cheeks grew a bit red. "I'm not going to talk about it again, but we want another chance to implement our plan." "I brought the necessary stuff in my backpack", Ariel added hopefully. After a few minutes of organizing about the time to meet back at Die Hard Headquarters, and making sure that the intrepid adventurers had Dawn's cellular phone number in case of an emergency, they left on their mission. The remaining Die Hards sat on the benches. Jennifer, or rather the bundle of clothes that encased her, was shivering in the chilly fall weather that had descended onto Toronto for the day. "Kn mmme ooo oomwhr wrm?" the mass mumbled. Realizing she wasn't understood, Jennifer removed the scarf from her face and repeated, "Can we *please* go somewhere _warm_?" Jennifer stared at Dawn in disbelief when she started expanding upon how Southern Ontario was the warmest place in Canada. But then again, Dawn was still wearing a fall jacket. Lana decided to stop what looked to be turning into a long climatic discussion. "Well, I've got the Die Hard credit card on me. How about we treat ourselves to a nice dinner?" Lana pulled out the gold card. "All I had to do was promise a few things, and the secondary vampire characters were than happy to fund the Die Hard during this war." "What do you mean, 'promises'?" Dawn asked. Lana looked a bit guilty. "You know your Dreamscapes series? Well... Ummm... they sort of wanted..." Dawn's face creased with a sense of impending doom. "You didn't!" Lana just grinned. ### TROUBLE LEAVES PARADISE by John Ewan Time: 7am EST Place: Key West, Florida John was packing his old Navy duffle bag, "Yeah, apparently some cuzzin is make ol' Screed drive a truckload of Q-tips around Canada! No mention of pay or anything; it's not like he's really *good* at that anyhow. So, he snagged her Visa card. I got that number and couple other should be on the way, as soon as he gets them. Glad of it, I wouldn't be goin' if we didn't have it!" Kathy, John's wife, hands him his long rider coat, "You could hide a sword under this..." John laughs, "I'm not dealing with Immortals! Besides, I'm gonna get by on charm and abject groveling, not violence! Since we weren't able to get a flight out of Key West you have to drive me up to Miami, why don't you take the credit card number, call some places and charge stuff to it and say someone will pick it up this afternoon. The station-wagon can hold a good bit, see if this woman has a credit limit. I'll call if any more numbers come my way." The ride to Miami was quiet, just a little over two and a half hours. John went to the Ticket counter and sort through the folders. He handed Kathy the two tickets from Key West to Las Vegas for December 27th; good thing Kathy's mom had won enough at bingo to fly down for the holidays. He put the roundtrip ticket from Toronto to Vegas for Screed in his pocket, along with his current ticket. John hugs his daughter, "Be good." "Bring me sumthin'" He kisses his wife, she says, "Have a good time, just not too good a time!" John smiles and winks at both of them. The flight to Toronto is quiet. John arrives and grabs a cab to the hotel. //No Cuzzin would be caught dead in Holiday Inn!// he thought. He quickly changed into clothes suitable for visiting Screed. Long underwear, heavy wool socks and thin pull-on rubber boots worn inside a large pair of sneakers. Then layered jeans and sweats covered by that heavy car coat with the blue stain on the pocket, gloves and a wool cap. John looked in the mirror. //The mustache and goatee are ok; haven't been trimmed or shaved for a couple of days. The *tan* might be able to be passed off as just skin tone; let loose the ponytail... Yessss, they may not even be able to give a good description with this much hair. Heheh, Vacant on a Bad Hair Day, that's me!// John slips out of a side door and begins to stroll the streets of Toronto; the Ratpack is on the move! ### FACING UNCLE by Julie Randolph Time: After sunrise Place: Cousin Headquarters Cousin Julie pulled into headquarters with half a mind to defect to the Die Hards rather than face Uncle and tell him what she had done...erm...without his knowledge. "Oh well...I always thought he needed to chill anyway." The Knighties were safely watched by Screed, but with the presence of the Vaqueros in town, she wondered how long he would be faithful to her...hmm...better send someone back to check. Fortunately, she had captured John who stole her Visa card and he had happily agreed to run some errands in exchange for the tickets he illegally charged in her name. 'Hey, can you drive a standard?" John smiled,"No worries, what do you need?" "I'm not worries about the Knighties, Screed really can't stand Nick for what that's worth, but Vachon...they were buds for centuries, and you know how Screed is...just go back and check on them...oh wait, here," she tossed him a pack of cigarettes and a bag of hamburgers, "I don't wnat Scottie going into huge nick-fits down there." John laughed and prepared to leave,"No pun?" "Oh yeah, it was meant...just hurry, okay, I don'thave a clue what their up to, fortunately it's daylight so we should be safe for the moment." "on my way...did you want me to call you?" 'Use the phone in my truck, just letme know what s going on, I'll check the computers and see if the money is there." "Gotcha." he squeeled away, headed back to the sewers. Julie took a deep breath and entered CERK, most everyone was asleep, but beginning to stir gently,"Hi everyone, why are we not at the Raven I've been looking all over." "You didn't hear?" Zillah intoned, looking unamused, "Janette came back...but I have the deed now." Julie paled,"Janette....is HERE?" "Uh, yeah...what, you didn't think she'd show up for the war?" "Honestly? No...but then Susan can be pretty persuasive ifnecessary, I should have known." 'Where have you been?" "Down in the sewers with the Knighties." "WHAT? You still have them?" "Yeah, what did you expect me to do with them?" "I assumed you'd let them go I guess..." "Moi? A Cousin? Let someone GO??? For FREE...oh no, I don't think so...is, uhm...is Uncle here?" "In the back, but asleep...unless you care to wake him?" "Not particularly, where's his computer?" "Why? what have you done?" "forget it, where? "Same room, how quiet do you suppose you can be?" Julie sighed...did she take her chances? Would Nick have successfully rewired his computer by now? Probably not, although there must be a computer wiz in the Knightie faction somewhere. She needed to know. She snuck into the back and peered around the corner. "I can feel you hovering, get in here." "Oh DAMN!" Julie stepped through the door as several Cousins shook thier head, LaCroix had already had a horrible day and night, being trapped with those infernal Knighties in the cellar of the Raven, he was in a BAD mood. "what have you done, Julie?" She paused, the sound of a heartbeat filled the room,"Oh forget it, doesnt work on me, but if you'll stop trying to hypnotise me, I'll tell you." He was up, across the room and standing at her side before she could move,"Do not irritate me." "I kidnapped some Knighties." "You did WHAT...you aren't responsible for that cellar incident...because if you are..." "The what? Nonono, that wasn't me. I've got Screed holding my Knighties down in the sewer." "And what, pray tell, did you intend to do with them?" "Uhm...ransom?" "Why?" "I need to buy a Merc." "And coming to me didn't cross your mind?" "Well, uhm..*cough* you know, you were so...tied up." "How much do you need?" "Can I use your computer for a sec?" "What for?" "I need to check something." Julie walked over to the computer and typed in the swiss account number...it still read $0.00,"DAMNIT!" "Your plan didn't work." Julie smiled, it was an evil grin that LaCroix actually appreciated,"Not yet." "Then we'll wait, and Julie?" He said this as she began to leave the room, thanking whatever being was up there that he hadn't seen it necessary to kill her. "Yes Uncle?" "Do not ever cross me again." That was all he need say, she scampered out of the room and back into the menagarie of Cousins that were waking slowly to the new day. "Okay, things are getting a little complicated....I need help, any volunteers?" ### (John returns to the sewer.) by John Ewan Time: After sunrise Place: Toronto ***Portions of this are freely adapted to include information not available to Cousin Julie at the time. Cousin Julie pulled into headquarters ... The Knighties were safely watched by Screed, but with the presence of the Vaqueros in town, she wondered how long he would be faithful to her...hmm...better send someone back to check. Fortunately, she had captured John who stole her Visa card and he had happily agreed to run some errands in exchange for the tickets he illegally charged in her name. She glanced at John, //He looks like a Die-Hard PosterChild! Vachon's hair, only a dark blond, Nick's smile, Don's body, Nat's heart, Screed's ethics, Janette's lust, LaCroix's butt and I'll bet he'd make a *good* cop! If he messes up again, I may kill him!// 'Hey, can you drive a standard?" John smiled,"No worries, what do you need?" John glanced around the parking lot, he always had trouble lying without looking guilty. //Kathy is right; people just don't expect a guy to reach forty without ever having had a driver's license.// "I'm not worries about the Knighties, Screed really can't stand Nick for what that's worth, but Vachon...they were buds for centuries, and you know how Screed is...just go back and check on them...oh wait, here," she tossed him a pack of cigarettes and a bag of hamburgers, "I don't wnat Scottie going into huge nick-fits down there." John laughed and prepared to leave,"No pun?" "Oh yeah, it was meant...just hurry, okay, I don'thave a clue what their up to, fortunately it's daylight so we should be safe for the moment." "on my way...did you want me to call you?" 'Use the phone in my truck, just letme know what s going on, I'll check the computers and see if the money is there." //Les'see, the pedal with the left foot, then shift...// <*GRIIIIND*!> "Gotcha." he squeeled away, headed back to the sewers. //I hope they drive defensively in Toronto!// //I'm glad the cops are too busy tracking serial killers to worry about Traffic!// John thought as he parked the truck. He grabbed the bag of burgers and the cigerettes and got out of the truck. He paused, then reached in and yanked the ashtray out. He slammed the door shut and stepped back to survey the damage. //I might be able to hammer that out, myself. A little touchup paint, good as new.// John headed down into the sewer, taking one last breath of fresh air. His senses adjusted quickly to the noisome murk. He would be able to move fairly well in the dark. While most people will be put off by the odor down here, the sudden ambient cold has made John's sinuses work overtime and now it is nearly impossible for him to smell anything. Along the way, he picked up a large plastic bucket, trash from some construction work. Near Screed's place he scoop up some sludge and fould muck and positioned the bucket just to the left and above the crawlway from the sewer to the hovel. //Tipping this in the doorway should slow up pursuit long enough for me to go to ground...// John also checked the crawlspace above his buddy's home, nice and easy to slide into and nearly invisible when there. The ceiling is a nice solid piece of cement and has a convenient vent to check things out first. //Cool, no one unexpected in there yet.// John slipped quietly down and went to the crawlway. "Hiho, droog! Beware of geeks bearing grift!" he called as he entered Screed's lair through the back door. "I have some food for yer guests and weeds for the "Beam-Me-Up' girl!" A quick glance at their faces and John knew which merely hungered and the one who felt the 'need'. He handed the burgers to Screed to let him start feeding someone and crouched down beside Scottie, "Here's your cigs... but, first..." Scottie's eyes narrowed and her face lost the expectant joy. John held up a car ashtray, "This is yer lungs.... Hmmm,... Ah, Screed? Her eyes just turned kinda orange, that nasty nicotine kinda orange and she's growlin' at me. Would you help her with her smokes and I'll feed the saner folk." As he passes by Screed, John whispers, "Are you *sure* those chains will hold them? "Boyo, them malinkie Knighties ain't scarperin'!" Screed says, smiling. John sits down between Ericka and Marcia, holding pieces of hamburger for each to lean forward and bite some off. Ericka glares at him, "This...is...*so*...degrading!" She hisses through clenched teeth. John smiles, "Yeah, it's the Cuzzin way! C'mon, manga, manga! It ain't souvlaki, but it'll do. Just to change the subject, I know the thought hasn't even begun to consider crossing yer Knightie little minds, but I'll give ya some pointers on paying off.... er, hiring the likes of us. Currently, I have this VISA bill that needs to be taken care or, and some min...*major* body work on a truck, that could be in cash, and the desire for some chocolate. Make it Hershey's; Hugs, Kisses or bars, with or without, it's all great. Carouches don't do Godiva. Least, not more than once a year!" As Screed is about to strike the match and light Scottie's cigarette, John glances over, smiles and says, "Hey, the air down here ain't explosive, is it?" ### THE RESCUERS by Perri Smith and SciFiMarcia, with contributions by John Ewan Time: After sunrise Place: Screed's lair "It cannot be that hard to find cigarettes! I know vampires smoke, Janette did it all the time, now if you're going to keep me here, get me cigarettes! Where's that pack that ratfink RatPacker brought in. It was only an hour ago, you can't have lost it!!!!" Scottie hadn't shut up for almost six hours, and she'd been screeching steadily since John had taken 'a coffee break' an hour before. Screed was almost tempted just to munch, and worry about LaCroix and his little followers later. "It's daylight, y'see," he told her for the fourteenth time. "An' if I go out in that, I'm gonna be toast. So siddown until someone comes t' take ye out o' my hair!!!" "Ew!!!! Another rat!!! I want Nick!!!!" Marcia yelled. Without wasting a second, the other two took up the chant. "We want Nick! We want Nick!" Screed's fangs actually came out this time; he remembered the cousins and stalked away instead. Marcia, Scottie and Erika exchanged grins. At least they were making his life miserable. From far away, they heard voices echoing oddly off the walls of the sewers, and the grins got wider. At last, rescue! "Boy, there places look even worse in person that on tv," someone was hollering. "Perri, when we said we wanted to go sightseeing, we didn't exactly have the sewers in mind!!" "You comes to visit, you takes your chances," a Texan voice answered breezily. "This looks like the turn." It was indeed the turn -- an entire crusade of Knighties came into view. "Scottie!" one of the Karen's squealed, running forward to start to untie her. She was stopped when a vampiric form flew to land in front of her. "Now you can just stop right there, as the Defective would say.I got this malinkie three under my charge, and I ain't about t' let you just waltz away with them!" Actually, Screed looked as if he'd like nothing better. Catherine and Perri elbowed their way to the front of the crowd. "Well, you can at least let us feed them," Catherine said, shoving past him. "I'm sure you haven't been giving them anything!!!" "Now, I don't think...." Perri shoved a box under his face. "It's just souvlaki, heavy on the garlic just the way Scottie likes it, right?" Screed almost gagged at the aroma, pulling his head away so fast he almost hurt himself, only to be met with a box on the other side. "And pizza for Marcia!" Screed stumbled back away from the women. "Get those things away from me!" Catherine and Perri attempted to look offended. Not easy, considering the giggles they were trying to hold back. "Hey, watch it or we'll tell the FoD's - this is straight from the Happy Souvlaki Deli!" "Perri?" Maryann and Paula stopped hunting around. "We can't find the VCR." "What do you need a VCR for?" Screed yelped. "To watch this," Paula said, holding up a video cassette. "We figured our friends must be totally bored and if we're going to be stuck here with them, this is our favorite movie and we can't watch it at the loft." No wonder. Screed stared in horror at the cheerleader on the cover. Buffy, the Vampire Slayer. "Get that the hell out of here!!!!" he yelled. Several Knighties looked shocked. "Watch your mouth," Dottie scolded, pulling something out of her shirt. Others followed suit, and Screed found himself surrounded by crosses. He backed away, almost running into Perri and Catherine, who looked him in the eye. "You have two choices here, Screed. You can let us go, or we can leave most of us here with our garlic and our movie and our crosses and our nicfit friend," Scottie took the hint and looked appropiately crazed, "while the rest of us find Nick to deal with you. Well?" Screed only thought for a moment. Nick might kill him; LaCroix would. His arm came out slapping the food away fromt he Knighties. "They stay." He advanced on Perri and Catherine, his fangs coming out. "An' if you ain't careful, I'll keep y' here with 'em!" A voice hissed from above, "And he ain't alone, Ladies of the Knight! Ya made yer best threat, now make a better offer or begone. Avaunt thee back to sun and souvlaki!" The ladies jumped at the voice from above; Perri and Catherine shrunk away from Screed. Then the voice came from around the corner. "Screed." Nick spoke simply in his deep quiet voice as he appeared from the tunnel entrance.. Several Knighties - no, each and every one - felt a sudden chill at hearing that voice. It wasn't an altogether unpleasant feeling. But Catherine and Perri stopped quivering and looked *very* smug. The ragtag vampire came forth to take his medicine, quivering slightly as he looked up at the imposing figure awaiting him. "I was made to do it, I was," he muttered. "Didn't touch the lovelies, I didn't, ask 'em." Nick turned to regard the former captives. Scottie looked disgusted, but she spoke in defense of the rat-eater. "Nah, he didn't come near us. Of course we made his guardianship miserable..." The three had a brief giggle, but it died when they saw Nick was still unhappy. "Really," Marcia said, "he was as much as captive as we were, weren't ya, Screed?" She smiled wryly. "The Cousins leaned pretty hard on him." "Yeah," Erika stuck in, "The only one enjoying it was that RatPacker, John, the loud-mouth from upstairs." She gestured towards the source of the voice and Nick looked up. But there was no one there. *** From his hideyhole above the sewers, John wisely decided to stay out of sight. Better to face a possibly-angry LaCroix than an enraged Nick surrounded by Knighties. Time for a strategic retreat. *** Screed took up the defense, gaining confidence. "See then, Defective, it weren't my fault! Them were Cousins and I have a proper fear of their master, you see..." It was the wrong thing to say. Nick didn't appreciate a mention of LaCroix just now. "Er, and of you, too, and I would never hurt the likes of these. Oh, no, Screed knows better than that!" "I'm sure you do now," Nick murmured, exchanging a glance with the nearest Knighties. He could tell that the three who were kidnapped were none the worse for wear, just tired and cold. That was what was important. He sighed. Wars. Knighties. "But this will. Not. Happen. Again." "No, no, not again," Screed hastened to assure him. "Good," Nick said, turning back to the Knighties. "Take them out to the car. I'll be out in a moment." Perri and Cath ushered their flock out of the sewer and out to the various vehicles they'd brought. No one raised more than a token protest about sewer goo on the upholstry. Nick joined them a minute later. All he would say was that he and Screed had made an arangement. Erika said later she'd seen what looked like Nick's checkbook. And they didn't have the chance to question Nick; he was too busy dealing with Knighties. The kidnappees thanked him with bearhugs, which he returned after only a slight hesitation. And the rest of the Knighties, never ones to miss out on hugs, jumped right in. In the happy chaos, no one noticed the figure that crept out of the sewers and into the night. All in all, John figured, he had a lot of explaining to do. ### MEETING THE POLICE by PartlyK Time: 6:00 am EST Place: Toronto. Partly woke to the annoying beep of her travel alarm, pulling herself out of a deep sleep. She arrived into Toronto at five after a cold, wet and totally exhausting drive. She had managed to get some sleep on the plane, but still felt like she had lead in her veins instead of blood. She would have stayed in Buffalo and drove up later in the day, but she was afraid that she would miss something. Besides, she really wanted to meet with Tracy. So she pulled into a inconspicuous parking spot and slept for an hour. She would have slept longer, but she really wanted to see if she could "accidently" run into Nick at the station. Partly ran a comb through her hair, applied a light touch of make up to cover the tired look around her eyes, then climbed out of the car, holding her purse protectively to her. Button Down had won at 35 to 1, that gave Partly $700 from her beginning $20. She had then let it ride on Vetteran -- she had found out later that the program had an extra "t" to her name -- but standing there holding that first lucky twenty, Partly wasn't at all surprised she won. After her breakfast with Tracy she was going to hit the first bank she could find. Carrying that much cash made her nervous. That and the prospect of meeting Nick. The officer at the desk, told her that Tracy was just getting off duty and would be out in a minute. Just as Partly was going to have a seat, she heard Nicks unmistakable voice coming from behind her. Tracy's joined his. "I don't know what the big deal is, Knight. Just get it repainted." The past Partly on the way to their desks. "At least they didn't paint the leather." Partly walked over to them, cutting off whatever response Nick might have had. "TorontoTrace?" She asked, using Tracy's online name. Tracy looked up. "PartlyK?" "I'm sorry I'm early." Partly glanced at Nick. "Are you off duty yet?" "In just a minute." She motioned to Nick. "This is my partner, Nick Knight. Nick this a friend of mine from the states, Partly..." She trailed off. "I don't even know your real name." "That's OK, Partly works." She offered her hand to Nick. "It's really Becky Kludy, but most of my online friends call me Partly." "Partly Kludy," Nick sounded it out. "I suppose that makes as much sense as any other online name I've heard." He suddenly froze and stared at Partly. "Online? You met *online*?" "Yes." Partly was waking up quickly, and was beginning to enjoy this process of needling Nick. "We met on The List," she gave the two words added emphasis and noted with satisfaction the deer in the headlights look that Nick had. Then she continued. "Discussing Quebec's vote. It was very educational." Nick's eyes narrowed and Partly got a sense of his more dangerous nature, but Tracy interrupted before he could speak. "I just have to get my coat, Partly. Be right back." Partly would have followed, but Nick blocked her way. "Who are you? Are you a Natpacker? Or are you one of LaCroix's?" Partly raised her hands and backed away. "What are you talking about? I'm just here to see Tracy." "Why?" "I *like* her, she's a friend." That made him pause. "Are you always this hostile?" Nick backed off a little bit, but he didn't look like he completely trusted her. She decided to pad her story a little, it wouldn't hurt to have Nick believing she wasn't involved with the war. "I thought Canadian's were supposed to be friendly. I drive all night just so I can get a chance to have breakfast with the only person I know up here, and I get hassled by her partner." Nick ran a hand through his hair. "Look, I'm sorry. It's been a rough night. Tracy returned in time to hear Nick. "Someone trashed his car," she said. "I'm sorry to hear that." Partly tried to sound nonchalant, but her mind was racing. The caddy? Someone trashed the caddy? She was amazed at how fast the war was progressing. No wonder Nick was so defensive. She really needed to be able to get online. "Well, we better be going. Good bye, Detective Knight, I hope you find out who did that to your car." "See you tonight, Nick." Tracy said as they left. They ended up eating at a small diner not to far from the station. They spent most of the meal in small talk, filing in all the details that the left out online, and everything that happened to them since they last talked. When Tracy got to the part about the crank program in her computer, Partly had to laugh. "I'm sorry. It just sounds so funny. Who do you think did it?" "Oh, I don't know." She smiled a little. "It is kind of funny though isn't it? If it was Nick, or anyone in the room for that matter, they probably hated it more than I did by the time I was through with all my paper work." They laughed some more. "You know you were the second person that has just called me up out of the blue yesterday." "Really? Who was it?" "Someone I hadn't seen for ages. Jamie Melody Randell, she's from the states too." Partly almost choked on her juice. "Do you know her?" Tracy asked. Partly managed to recover. "I don't think so. The name just sounded familiar." Yeah, familiar from the list. Jamie Melody Randell. Lets see: Jamie, Jamie. Oh Lord. Jamie M.R. -- The Illustrated Cousin. What did a *cousin* want with Tracy? "Is she staying here long?" "No. She was just passing through. She was on a scavenger hunt." "I haven't done a scavenger hunt for years," Partly said. "What was she looking for?" "She needed an signed picture of a woman in a bikini on the beach in the moonlight." Tracy shook her head. "Pretty weird, huh?" "Did she get it?" "Oh, yes. I..." Tracy suddenly trailed off, staring at her cup and stirring her coffee. "At least, I think so." Partly suspected that there was a lot more to the story than that, but didn't know how to press for more information. She also felt sure that picture would be the source of problems yet. But right now she was way to tired to deal with anything. "Listen, Tracy. I've got to be going. I'm lucky if I got five hours of sleep in the last two days. I gotta get a hotel room and crash." Partly pulled out her wallet, the stopped. "I don't have any Canadian money." Tracy waved her hand. "Don't worry about it. I'll pay." "Some friend I am, making you pay for breakfast. But I'll be here for a week at least, so why don't we go out some night when you have off?" "Give me a call later tonight or tomorrow night, and let me know." Tracy paid the bill. "Goodbye, Partly." "Good *night* Tracy." ### ON THE BOARDWALK by Diane Echelbarger and Cousin Candice Time: Early Place: Toronto Diane awoke at 5:30 AM and treated herself to a long, hot shower before slipping out for an early-morning cup of coffee. she thought. She strolled down Waverly to Queen Street East and bought a large cafe au lait from The Second Cup. The server remembered her from yesterday, and chatted politely while he steamed the milk. Diane reflected happily that, now that she knew the War really *was* on--Vicki's note having set her mind at rest on that score--she'd have time to become a 'regular' at the place. Wrapping her gloved hands around the styrofoam, she crossed the busy street at the light and entered Kew Park. The sky was just beginning to lighten, and she had this section of the park pretty much to herself. As she passed the playground, a black squirrel with a surprisingly white tail chittered at her from a nearby tree. She grinned, remembering the 'vampire squirrel' thread that had flourished briefly on the list. Eventually, she reached the boardwalk, where so many FK scenes had been shot, and turned to the right. Half of Toronto seemed to be walking their dogs here, as usual, and she found herself looking *very* closely at any golden retreiver that passed her in the pre-dawn dimness. she chided herself, The camera bag slung at her hip was heavy, a reminder of why she was here. If she continued on around to that little pavilion on Ashbridge's Bay, she could probably get some good shots of the sunrise over Lake Ontario.... An hour and a roll of film later, Diane packed up her Yashica, eager to return to her lodgings and the breakfast that should be waiting for her. As she passed the changing rooms on the half-moon of sandy beach, she heard a voice calling her name. "Diane? Diane Echelbarger, is that you?" Diane turned, and faced the 5'2" brunette woman who had come up behind her. A well-kempt looking woman, she was wore a black leather trenchcoat, jeans and a warm looking wool sweater. But the first thing that Diane really noticed was her blood-red scarf. "Do I know you?" she asked, trying to place the vaguely-familiar face. Candice took off her mirrored shades with exaggerated flare and smiled. "Ah yes, we met last June, I think it was. On the set of Forever Knight, but only briefly. I was rather busy and I never got a chance to introduce myself properly. Cousinly duties always getting in the way." Candice winked and grinned slightly. Diane noticed she too, was holding a large styrofoam container from The Second Cup. "Oh, right, I remember now," Diane nodded, hoping her sudden nervousness didn't show. "You took care of Tuppence while she was on the set, right?" "Mhmm, that was me. So how is that shadowy terror you call a cat?" "She's put on another couple of pounds, and it's hairball season, but other than that, she's okay." Diane frowned slightly as she continued her walk back to the B&B, worrying that this little meeting was related to her bumping into LaCroix the night before. Candice fell into step beside her as she continued, "Funny thing, though. The whole time I was packing, she kept trying to climb into my luggage. It was almost as if she was trying to come along!" Diane scowled a moment, then shook her head. "No, that doesn't make any sense. Why would she want to do that? It isn't as if she'd know where I was going; she's only a cat!" "You're not serious are you? Tuppence tried to get into your luggage?" Candice laughed with what seemed to be utter disbelief to Diane, but inside, Candice was seething. That brought another question to Candice's attention. It wasn't as if she didn't already know Diane was up to something--she *was* in Toronto for the War--but it wouldn't hurt to frazzle her nerves a bit. "If you don't mind my asking," she turned to face Diane, who nodded in return, "what brings you here to Toronto?" Diane smiled nervously. "Well, y'know," she explained a little too quickly, "I never really had the time to do any sightseeing, during the last War, what with the filming and all, and I figured it'd be fun to sit on the sidelines and watch stuff develop, instead of just hearing all of you talk about it afterwards...." She trailed off and countered with a question of her own. "Uh, so I suppose you're--uh--keeping busy, what with the War starting yesterday and all?" "I'd say I have my hands full. There are *so* many Cousins on board this time around and it's hard to put them in places where they'll be useful. They're all so eager to lend a hand! Got any suggestions? I mean what would -you- do with a Baker's Dozen of creative minds such as theirs?" "Run like hell," Diane muttered under her breath. "What?" Candice enquired politely. "Uh-- I dunno," Diane swallowed and pretended to watch the squirrels. "I'm not much into group things. One reason I never joined a faction..." Candice took a sip from her own cup, trying to break the uneasy silence that had fallen between them. "There's nothing quite like black coffee in the morning, wouldn't you agree?" They walked further down the path in the park towards Queen's Street East. "Actually I'm treating myself to a cafe au lait this morning," Dianeadmitted. "The Second Cup makes it so well, I couldn't resist. Just like in Seattle. Of course, they make *everything* well, don't you think?" Candice sipped again from her cup and actually thought about this one before she answered. "Mhmm, isn't that where Don used to get his coffee and doughnuts? It's a shame Nick can't enjoy the same pleasures the rest of us do..." Candice trailed off and smiled into her coffee. "Actually, the only coffee shop they ever mentioned was Buckstar's," Diane replied quickly, ignoring the second half of Candice's comment. "Guess they didn't dare use a *real* store name, so they just sorta switched Starbuck's around. There's one downtown, y'know." "I didn't know Starbucks made doughnuts...did you eve notice how red the jelly is that The Second Cup uses?" They continued walking together towards the streetcars, brushing past people on various errands, trying to make small-talk. "So, what's in your camera?" Candice gestured to Diane's shoulder strap and tried to guess, "Kodak? Fugifilm? Kodachrome?" "Nothing, I just finished a roll. I use Kodak film, mostly, but I got some special low-light stuff from Seattle Film for museums and stuff." "Well, here's where I leave you in search of the Eternal Sale," Candice said with deliberate casualness. "I was planning on heading down to the Harbourfront Antique Market, down on Queen's Quay, then on to some heavy-duty wardrobing. Or would you like to come with me? I'm sure we could talk about all *sorts* of interesting things-- you know, f-stops, developers, printing paper..." "Well, uh, to be honest," Diane replied, puzzled and a little relieved by this turn in the conversation, "I mostly use the auto-exposure setting, and I never develop my own film. Jennie Hayes keeps promising to teach me the finer points, but she's so busy, we never seem to find the time." "I'll take that as a no. Well it was a pleasure seeing you again, really." Candice reached inside the inner pocket of her jacket and opened up the gleaming silver business-card case her father had given to her. "Here's my card if you ever want to chit-chat over coffee again sometime, but I've really got to get going. I'll put the number where I'll be staying for a while on the back. Feel free to call anytime." After removing her black leather glove to get a better grip on her pen, she wrote in careful strokes the number of her cellular phone. It was always on her person any time, night or day, and she didn't want to impose on her gracious...host. Candice flashed Diane a dazzling smile--though to Diane it looked more like a feral grin. "Uh, yeah, sure," Diane agreed, licking her lips nervously and clutching her camera bag a little closer. "I've, uh, gotta get back to breakfast now. Bye!" She turned away and hurried up Elmer Avenue. After all, even if the meeting had been an accident, there was no reason the Cousin needed to know exactly where she was staying.... Candice watched from the trolley as Diane turned the card over in her hand before slipping it into her pocket. Candice put her glove back on her right hand, trying to warm it quickly. she thought, pointedly annoyed at her own stupidity. "You'll need that number sooner than you think my dear," she mumbled to herself. A smug, satisfied smile plastered itself across her face. The trolley pulled away and headed downtown. Shopping would definitely be a gratifying experience today.... As soon as she rounded the corner, out of Candice's sight, Diane tossed the business card into the nearest bush. <*No way* am I *ever* going to call *that* Cousin,> she thought with a shudder, carefully wiping her fingers on a tissue, and tossing the tissue after the card. Suddenly chilled, she hurried back to her B&B, wondering if Vicki-the- Merc might be interested in a job as bodyguard.... ### AND THEN YOU DIE (Part 1) by Tara O'Shea Time: 7am Place: Tara's apartment Her alarm went off, and Tara was out of bed like a shot. Rifling through the kitchen drawer, Tara came up with an old AT&T bill, and quickly flipped to True Country Savings. Bingo, Toronto calls. She dialled and impatiently tapped her fingers on the counter as her call was forwarded. "Scott Cooper," a male voice at the other end of the line answered. "Small question, did you email me last night?" "Um... no." "I would have called at 6am your time, but thought better of it, feel blessed. Someone played a very nasty practical joke, and so I immediately thought of you." "Should I be offended?" "You tell me. 'Due South Meets Baywatch'?" "Would that mean I get to meet Pamela Anderson?" "Never mind, don't worry about it. I'll tell you tho, whoever cobbled together the quicktime movie they sent is a genius. I'm not going to be ale to meet on IRC Sunday tho." "Do I want to know why?" "War. Long story." Tara hung up, and chewed on a fingernail, her mind spinning. The candy was classic Amy and Jennie. They had had a ball at DOW replacing her cigarettes and lighters with Pez and candy, and no one else knew about it but them. She had chalked it up to a joke, but this... This was definitely in the flavour of a wartime prank. And with Janette off gods only knew where, she wasn't quite sure what to do. The Ravens must be getting together. Only one thing she *could* do. Contact Susan. She was de-facto leader in the Boss's absence after all, and if it was war. Well, that called for turnabout. ### OFF TO TORONTO by Chanda Keith Time: 7:30 am EST Place: Chanda's school "Well, it's finally started and this stupid network is working for once so I can enjoy it." I said as I looked at the school computer and munched on one of the candy cigarettes someone have left on my door this morning. "I guess it's time for me to head to Toronto, but how am I going to afford it? Oh, wait a minute. Silly me. Cousins and uncles and aunts, the real kind, not LaCroix's fanatics. I just love being from a big family!" I thought as I started to dial my Uncle Don's number. A few minutes later, I had my ride to Toronto. Now I just had to pack. I stayed in a good mood until I opened my closet and got a good look at my clothes. They worked just fine for school, but sweatshirts and jeans just weren't going to cut it where I was going. "Time to call another relative." I thought as I headed towards the phone and dialed my Aunt Ruth's number. "Hi, Aunt Ruth." I said. "It's Chanda. Listen, Aunt Ruth. I'm in a bit of a jam. I'm getting ready to go to Canada on a.... research trip for.... French class and well, it turns out that I need a few things that I just don't see how I'm going to afford on the pitiful little salery I make in the cafeteria. I was wondering if you could..... Yeah! That would be great, Aunt Ruth. You'll wire the money for the hotel too? Great! I can stop and pick it up at the bank on my way. Thanks!" "Ten thousand dollars." I thought as I hung up the phone and went back to packing. "That ought to be enough to buy all new clothes and pay for a hotel room. Maybe I can pick up a laptop, too. You never know when you might need one and besides, if I get a laptop that means I won't have to rely on this crazy school account anymore. Boy, wasn't it a lucky thing about Aunt Ruth and that lottery." Nearly an hour later, my Uncle Don's car was packed. I had jammed in all of my Forever Knight tapes (I could buy a TV and VCR when I got there), abouth a hundred books to read on the way, a ten pound bottle of garlic I borrowed from the cafeteria (you never know when you might need to repell some nasty vampire), and a 200 gallon container of soap (I had no idea what I was going to do with the soap, but it looked like a lot of fun so I took it anyway). I could pick out my new Ravenette clothes when I got to Toronto. "This is going to be fantastic!" I thought as we headed off down the highway. ### I'M HERE! by Chanda Keith Time: Before 8am EST Place: Toronto Sheraton "I can't believe that I'm finally here!" I cried as my uncle deposited all of my assorted possessions in the lobby of the Toronto Sheraton and left to begin the long ride back to Tennessee. "What do I do now, though? I don't see any of the other Ravenettes or Immortal Beloveds anywhere. I don't know if we're going to stay together or spread out or what! I don't even know what name they would be regestered under so I can't try to find them! Well, I guess I'll just have to wait down here until I spot someone who can tell me where I'm supposed to be. While I'm waiting, I better go call my roommate and tell her where I am." I thought as I headed towards the bank of phones behind a post dragging my luggage behind me. "Hi, Marsha." I said when my roommate picked up the phone. "How are you?" "Chanda!" she yelled. "Where are you? Why did I find a recipe for blood on my desk when I came in last night?" "Is it the one with the orange, grape and cranberry juice? Did I forget it? I'm sorry about that. I meant to take it with me. Calm down, Marsha. It's something I heard about that I though would be fun to try. It sounds really healthy. Listen, Marsha. I was just calling to tell you that I'm...." "Do you know anything about this black box I found in our doorstep this morning? When I picked it up it started screaming over and over 'JANETTE IS GONE!' Janette's that vampire that you like so much, isn't she? The one whose pictures are plastered all over your side of the room?" "Yeah. That's Janette. I wonder who could have sent something like that to me? Probably one of those nasty little Natpackers or maybe it was the Nick&Natpack. Uh, Marsha, are you still there?" "Yes. I have no idea what you are talking about. I think you ought to know that we thought that the little package your friends sent you was a bomb! We evacuated the building and called in the police! By the way, when you get back from wherever you are, the chief of police and the dean want to speak to you!" she yelled as she slammed down the phone. "Oh, great!" I thought. "I have a feeling that when I go home, I'm going to wind up expelled and locked in either the jail or the mental home! Oh, well. As long as it will help Mistress Janette, no sacrifice is too large. No if I can just find someone to tell me where I need to be." ### THE IMMORTAL BELOVEDS REJOIN THE RAVENETTES by Felicia Bollin Time: 8am EST Place: Toronto "Where IS she?" Catherine grumbled, glancing around. "She has to be here somewhere! If she doesn't hurry up, she'll miss the Raven Coup!" Catherine and Ari had volunteered to go downstairs to the Sheraton lobby at that ungodly hour only in order to keep a lookout for straggling members. All of a sudden, Catherine gasped, grabbed her by the arm and hauled her into the shadows. The clerk looked on with interest as she hissed, "Ari, look at that girl! The one over by that post! She--she's wearing ORANGE!" Ari looked. "So? Toronto's the Home of the Maple Leafs, it's autumn, orange is probably abounding in the store windows this time of year." They looked at each other and shuddered down to the tips of their slingbacked toes. "Imagine Janette in orange," Catherine said. "Ugh. Don't. You'll make yourself nuts. You're not trying to suggest that that might be a *Natpacker*, are you? You know they don't like seeing Nat in orange any more than we do." "I don't know. That would certainly make it the perfect disguise, wouldn't it?" They both looked warily at the female. "*Where were you guys*?!" Chanda demanded without preamble, distracting them from the uglily-dressed woman as she rushed out of nowhere. "I didn't know what name we'd registered under! I've been here for the past two hours, seeing Cousins and Nick&Natpackers behind every seat! That stupid school account of mine--" "The suite is listed under 'Revenant Corporation.' I know, it kept bouncing all my email back, telling me that your server wasn't a valid address. And I knew you'd only be home on the weekends, and we were just going nuts!" Ari said. "You missed all the fun. Well, so did Ari, but I filled her in retroactively. Wait till you hear what stupid Tracy let slip in our hearing, and what we did with the information," Catherine added, trying to keep from saying the obvious, but it burst out. "Girlfriend, when you said you needed more time and money to dress like Janette, you weren't kidding." Ari expected Chanda to blush furiously, but she took it in stride. "Well, I hate flying, so I had my uncle drive me, and all the way up from Tennessee, you know, doesn't set too well with fancy fabrics. So I decided to wear this sweatsuit. Aunt Ruth, the one who's financing this trip, gave me enough money for new clothes. I thought if we could find the time, Heather Parks and I could go to that boutique--you know, the one Janette used to frequent, where all the Ravenettes go to be outfitted. Heather's going to *need* new clothing." Ari took it off and hurriedly swathed her in it. "For Raven's sake, cover up before someone sees you looking like this." "What do you think?" Chanda asked, voice muffled by the cowl. "Very nice, very 'Phantom.' Now come on upstairs!!" Catherine tugged. "Grab a bag," Ari added practically, then nearly pitched forward on her face as Chanda's duffle moved almost on its own. "What's *in* here?" Chanda smiled. "Oh, I brought my French homework, this little composition I've been working on that I thought clueless old Nick could declaim to Janette whenever they next meet. You know he needs a little help in the area of expressing his emotions." "When you look like that, who needs conversation." Ari sighed as the other two exchanged "uh-oh" looks. Closet Knightie tendencies, just terrific. Bad enough Jillby wouldn't stop waxing eloquent over LaCroix's posterior, now they had this to worry about. What, oh what on earth, had happened to Ari's Nick-picking lessons? Chanda had thought she was doing so well. "Yeah, that's what Janette says too," Catherine snickered, trying to snap Ari out of it. It worked. The three laughed. "What else is in here? French papers would hardly account for this weight." "Well, two hundred gallons of softsoap, for one thing." "Soap?!" Catherine and Ari exclaimed. Chanda smiled mysteriously. "You never know. Let's see," Chanda ticked off on her fingers, "I brought my complete set of tapes, in case we need any plot ideas." "Good thinking!" Ari congratulated. "And ten pounds of garlic. And a lot of books. For downtime." "Downtime?" Catherine wrinkled her Tracy-like forehead. "You haven't been posting a lot have you." It was a statement, not a question. "Nope, too busy," Chanda said blissfully. "Plotting, and all of that, you know." "Well, you couldn't possibly have more luggage than *she* brought," Catherine sneered a little at Ari. "Only *three* of them!" Ari huffed. "What's in yours?" Chanda asked. "Oh, just the essentials--toiletries, cosmetics, perfume--" "Four kinds?" Catherine asked with interest. "For different moods!" "Oh, of course." "A little stash of chocolate-covered Kona beans, some little day dresses, some evening wear--" Ari continued. "A *bullwhip*?!" Catherine all but screeched. Ari paused for a moment. "Well, not to *wear*, silly," she offered. Catherine looked as if she seriously contemplated strangulation. "Why, what did you bring?" Ari asked defensively. "Nothing but the clothes on your back, I assume." She turned to Chanda. "She only packed *one*, but it just about made me leave my arms back on the garage floor when I went to hoist it into the trunk! It's not my fault that I'm a high-maintenance kinda gal, really. I've *tried* to skimp, believe you me, but all that happens is I break out and my hair starts to resemble straw. Why, if Janette were to show up right now and volunteer to turn me, I'd jump in an instant. I could have 50 bachelors' degrees by now--- French, voice, psych, filmmaking, what-have-you. Besides, I even already have a fang." Ari lifted the corner of her lip to show the other two. "Why, as a matter of fact, the other day I was babysitting in some of my spare time from the library, and the little four-year-old leaned over my back to roughhouse and said in this awe-inspired voice, 'Wow, you have sharp teeth!'" Chanda sounded hushed and not a little awed. "Do we *know* where Janette is?!" "I'm not sure, but if anyone could find her, it would be Susan. If she'd *contact* anyone, it would be Susan." Catherine tried to speak in a blase fashion, but her voice shook a little with excitement, and Ari almost dropped a bag. None of the three could forget that they had never had the privilege of *meeting* Janette in the flesh, unlike nine-tenths of the other Ravens. And oh, did they hope to rectify this someday. They reached the suite (no penthouse, but close), and used the passcard again. The door wouldn't open. Catherine rattled the knob impatiently, putting her eye to the peephole. "Oh, good *night*, here I was, praying that we wouldn't have to wake anyone up." "I wonder who it will be," Chanda added. "Cynthia, Sheryl, or Jill Bradley?" Ari crossed her fingers and prayed fervently one more time as she slid the card through the magnetic sensor. This time, it lit up and turned to green. The three Immortal Beloveds cautiously opened the door. "*_Sacrebleu_*!" gasped a voice, leaping towards them. "Don't move!!" *** "You almost got bucketed!!" The person who had yelled in French was standing about a foot away from Ari, Catherine, and Chanda, clutching a short silk robe at her neckline, rubbing blue eyes, and glaring/squinting at them. "Did you forget about the booby trap we put on top of the doorjamb?" Ari and Catherine remembered at the same time. A nice bucket of Blood Lite sat, ready to douse the first faction member who was clueless enough to try to pick the Raven suite lock! Sheryl, the Ravenette talking to them, climbed up on top of the chair and carefully took down the bucket. "We almost ruined your luggage--- ?" She looked swift query at Chanda, who stuck out her hand. "Chanda Keith." "Sheryl Bottner, nearsighted and sleepy Ravenette. Could you guys have made any more noise?" she grumped, resting fists on hips and looking around the floor. "Hmmm. We might have to rent another suite for the luggage. Cyn and Jillby are still sleeping--- I hope." She looked at Ari, who was setting up something on the floor. "What *are* you doing?" Ari flipped hair out of her eyes. "I forgot, I was trying to find time to print out a copy of the Ravenettes' dossier for us to read, so we don't have to keep booting up the computer in order to remember stuff like what everyone wants to eat at the next big Victory party we have. Would you believe it--- I tried to do it before I left home, but my parents got upset. They are so clueless! I'll bet they're even worse than your mom, Chanda. The printer went for so long, my father even asked me if I was trying to print out a copy of the New Testament!! Philistines." "Erm--- yes. Quite." Sheryl pulled the edges of her peignoir together once more. "I'm going back to bed. By the way--- I kept meaning to ask you guys. How did you find out that Cousin Jamie kidnapped that *alleged* picture of Janette?" Ari and Catherine just grinned. Sheryl rolled her eyes and struck her red-gold pate. " 'I'm a *good* cop'! Of course." "You knew she couldn't keep her mouth shut, didn't you? She ran into the precinct around five-thirty and she was so clueless she didn't even wonder who I might have been," said Catherine. "Maybe she thought I was a suspect, for all I know. She caught sight of me and spent twenty minutes jabbering on about how much I looked like her! Can you imagine? Then she oh-so-obligingly strolled over to Nick's desk, plucked the photograph out, and said, 'Well, I need to take this picture of my partner's somewhere--- I promised it to this really nice tattooed girl for a scavenger hunt.' So it was easy for me to figure out how I could turn it to our advantage." "Oh." Sheryl smiled. "Glad I cleared that up." She started for her rooms once more. "Oh, before I forget. Tara is en route. She requests that we try to keep a pot of coffee brewing at all times here. And don't plan anything for the next couple of days that can't be done in under an hour. We'll need to be keeping close watch on the Raven, and there's redecorating to supervise of course." She thought for a moment. "Tami is somewhere sleeping off the effects of what she and Miklos will only refer to as 'that unpleasant Mai Tai incident'; Susan was just quietly communing with her email until she got this sudden incredible urge to visit the Toronto Zoo fom out of nowhere. I wanted to make her take a bodyguard, but she insisted on going alone. Lorelei is looking into a shipper to contract with for some *good* liquor for the bar, no doubt browsing in every Goth furniture place she finds along the way for some advance ideas. Heather is coming in sometime soon, and she'll doubtlessly want to go shopping to rectify matters until the jokers that did it decide they're going to give her clothes back. Kathy went off for fencing practice and to see if she could set something up in case we decide we want to make LaCroix and Vachon go a few rounds _avec les epees_ for amusement. Though of course we know *Janette* could probably beat Vachon at fencing. Jasmine got this sudden incredible attack of *something* and ran off, muttering something that sounded like "Civilization at last!' and brandishing her ATM card. She hasn't been seen since. David and mj are dreaming up evil things with software. And Vicki--- I'm not quite sure what she's doing, but whatever it is, it should be spectacular." "Okay!" The three saluted. Sheryl disappeared. Ari, Catherine, and Chanda all stood around as the laser printer churned out things, looking at each other. Chanda was the first to break the silence. "Well, I suppose I could unpack." "Don't get too comfortable," Ari warned. "The Nick&Natpack will not be idle for long. At least our--ah, petite, manageable size means that we're going to be thinking and acting like one mind far more often than they will. Before they do anything, they have to clear it with all their members. There's no saying that all forty of the N&Npack are going to show up for war, but some of *our* members are going to be in touch with us via modem anyway. You may want to polish up that composition." "Sure. I'd like you guys to read it beforehand anyway." "We should probably ask Sheryl to read it. She may know lots of nice interesting French anatomical terms Nick could throw on in there to impress Janette." Catherine wiggled her eyebrows suggestively. "Real French people probably don't understand Janette, though. I mean, her speech patterns are going to be medieval, right?" Ari had always wondered about that. "Probably not. I would say she's fairly up-to-date. Nat's not the only one with brains. I mean, at least we know Janette reads. She knows about 'The Picture of Dorian Gray', and Ernest Hemingway, and so forth. She's probably quite literate. I mean, you couldn't stand around for six hundred years and do nothing but listen to LaCroix and Nick argue." Chanda remarked. The three girls shuddered again as one. "Heaven forfend. I think we'd better listen to a little music to get that bad taste of that imagery out of our mouths. Anyone have any objection to Renaissance madrigals, Sarah McLachlan, Depeche Mode, Nine Inch Nails, Mary Chapin Carpenter, classic Motown, early Madonna, Melissa Etheridge, or Pops Plays Puccini?" Ari read from the eclectic assortment around the suite table. "Well, the *new* new Raven will certainly be an interesting musical venture." Since it was such an early hour, they decided on the madrigals, at an extremely low level. Chanda decided to clean up as well as unpack, so Ari found her an outfit to make do until she went shopping. It was black, at least. Comfort be damned, Janette would not have allowed sweat*pants* in her club. Anything else, but not that. Looking at the music spread out on the table, though, gave Ari an idea. She ran it past Catherine, who scrabbled in her own bag until she found what she was looking for. Thank the heavens for the person who had inaugurated the fanfic books-on-taping spree. The Immortal Beloved ace-in-the-hole. "You guys are really evil," Chanda said happily. "I picked the right faction." ### PLOT TWISTS (Part 1a) by Wyndi and Diana Time: 11:00am EST Place: an unnamed Hotel in Toronto Wyndi woke up bleary-eyed. There was sun streaming through a window that wouldn't-quite-close, and she blinked a few times, sleepily, and reached out ot wrap her fuzzy-blanket closer... but it wasn't there! A bit alarmed, she woke up a little more and looked aorund. It was very tan... It looked like some sort of sleazy hotel that one could find at three in the morning to get a room in... funny, that's just what they had done. She looked over to the other bed where Di was still sleeping peacefully, and forced herself out of bed. Reclothing herself, she dug out the bag o' tricks she had gotten in the mail just yesterday. She hadn't had a chance to look through it thoroughly, and so was taking this chance. The shackles she set on the floor nearby, along with the chain. A couple of collars, some more chain, several lengths of leather, tastefully black, and a letter. She looked at it in confusion. It said "My dearest thrall" across the front in runes, whioch ment it could only be Master who had put it in there... Wyndi hastily got a pillow from the motel bed and set it on the floor in front of the bag. Kneeling on it gingerly, her knee still wasn't in tip top shape, she was finally able to open the letter. My dear thrall (He had written in scrawled script), I hope that you are having fun in Toronto. (Toronto? How had He known where she was going??) Feel free to buy yourself some suitable garments. I hope to be able to meet you some day, and you should be suitably dressed. I miss you greatly (She smiled at His signature, grown so familiar over the months.) Buy suitable clothing... That was practically an order to go shopping. "Di! Di, wake up." Wyndi got up and threw the blanket onto the bed, tucking the letter under her shirt, next to the skin. She looked at the clock. "Di, it's almost 11:00! We're in Toronto! Come on, wake up!" She shook her friend until Di finally stirred. "Whaaaa?" Di said, still half asleep. ### I KNOW WHY THE CAGED BIRD SINGS (a) by Sharon Himmanen Time: Morning Place: A Toronto jail cell Sharon jerked awake from a light sleep for about the twentieth time for the night, and finally decided to give up. Pulling herself upright she massaged her neck. Then she stopped in mid yawn. Did they serve people coffee in these jails? This was a bad thing. There was another human being in the cell with her. They'd brought her in last night on a drunk and disorderly and she'd spent several hours singing Carpenter's tunes at the top of her lungs. Still, Sharon didn't feel right about offing her in a fit of caffeine withdrawal. At least she'd known the words to the songs, even if she couldn't carry a tune. She wasn't hungry--the NatPack had brought her dinner, and Nat had dropped by with a couple burgers at around midnight. Jamie had also brought her some food earlier, and Christine had dropped by late last night with some fresh sushi. Not bad all things considered, but now the lack of caffeine was becoming a real concern. The lack of food wouldn't be a concern for a couple more hours. Rising from the bed, she walked over to the bars and tried to look out. There was a guard at the far end, and Sharon wondered if he'd get her some coffee. She doubted it, an stood there in the cell trying not to panic when a thought struck her. "Hey!" she called, getting the guards attention. He took his time walking down the short hallway between the holding cells and stood in front of her expectantly. "I didn't get my phone call," she said. "What?" he asked incredulously. "I didn't get my phone call," she repeated. "I get one phone call and I didn't get it. I'd like to make it now please." A couple members of the NatPack had been there when she'd been arrested, and assured her that they'd take care of bail as soon as it was set. At the time there hadn't been any need to call anyone. He gaped at her for a moment, then shrugged. "I'll check with the sargeant," was all he said, before turning and shuffling back down the hallway. Sharon turned and began kicking her heels in the cell, until a small noise in the corner caught her attention. Her cell mate was up, and Sharon thought it only fair to warn her of the impending danger. "You're life's in danger," she said without preamble. The woman lifted a hand to her forehead and mumbled something fairly incoherent. Amused, Sharon sat on the edge of the bunk. "Tell me something," she said. When the woman didn't respond, she continued "How would you go about tormenting someone who has an oral fixation?" This got the woman's attention, and she opened her eyes to stare at Sharon in shock before starting to speak. In horror, Sharon held up her hand. "Scratch that! This *is* still a PG rated list." Abruptly she rose from the bunk. Luckily the guard returned and unlocked the cell. "OK," he said. You get one call. Make it snappy." * "Benny?" Sharon said to the sleepy voice on the phone. "Benny, wake up and listen carefully. I need three things." She listened for a moment. "Yeah, I know. Don't worry! Listen! "First, get out your phone book and call a local deli near here. Have them deliver a couple cups of coffee. *This* is very important. They told me I only get one with breakfast, and you *know* that's not enough." She paused. "I'm in jail, OK. Long story. Don't ask. "Second, that little job I had for you. Well, she's here, too. She came by to see me last night. She was bragging about staying in a five-star hotel here in the city so she shouldn't be too hard to find. Everything else should go according to plan. "Fine, fine!" Sharon said impatiently. "One last thing. I need you to find someone for me. She's here in Toronto. Her name is Jamie M.R. Randell. She's a cousin. When you find her, call me. *Don't* let her see you. You know how to reach me." Sharon listened for a few more minutes. "Cool!" she said, grinning. "I should be out of here in a couple of hours, but I don't want to take any chances. I'll be incommunicado probably until early afternoon, but you know how to find me. Later!" With a contented sigh she hung up and looked over at the sargeant sitting across from her who was looking at her with a puzzled expression. "I love it when a plan comes together," Sharon said with a smile. ### ENCOUNTER IN EATON CENTRE by Cousin Deborah and Diane Echelbarger Time: Morning Place: Toronto By the time she'd finished eating the generous breakfast their landlady provided, Diane had decided she was over-reacting to the meeting with Cousin Candice in the park. After all, LaCroix hadn't recognized her last night, right? So she was probably still safe. Since she wasn't in a faction, she didn't really have anywhere special she needed to be, so she figured she might as well sight-see after breakfast. Camera bag slung from her shoulder, she caught a trolley downtown. They had just passed Coxwell Street when she noticed the woman seated across the aisle. She was relatively ordinary, and Diane probably would have overlooked her except for two things. She seemed to be trying to watch Diane without being obvious about it, and on her lapel was a sword pin identical to the one LaCroix had worn for most of second season. the listmember told herself sternly. Even so, she kept her camera close, and when she got off at Church Street she used the excuse of re-tying her shoe to see if the woman with the sword pin followed her off. The woman stayed on the streetcar, and Diane decided she's just imagined it. Really, she was worrying over nothing. Shrugging off her fears, she turned up Church Street. She was eager to see how the special low-light film she'd loaded her camera with would work for photographing the stained-glass windows in St. James' Church. Two hours, three churches, and four rolls of film later, Diane decided it was time for lunch. As she left the church, she bumped into a teenager in the doorway. It wasn't until she was half-way to Eaton Centre that she realized she'd seen the same girl in St. James', kneeling in the back pew...and she was wearing a CERK shirt under her ski jacket. Diane entered the downtown megamall and took an escalator to the second floor. A burger sounded good, and Toby's Goodeats could always be counted on to serve a medium-rare burger *really* medium-rare. When she got there, there were quite a few people ahead of her, but she decided the food was good enough to be worth the wait. She got in line to give the hostess her name and overheard a woman ask how long a wait it would be. "45 minutes or so." the waitress replied without looking up. "Moooooommm," the teenager next to the woman wailed, "I haven't eaten anything all day. 45 minutes is like, eternity." "And eternity is too long to wait for a table," a voice whispered in Diane's ear. She jumped and whirled toward the voice. Her camera bag flew outward and almost hit the slightly taller woman standing behind her--the *Cousin* standing behind her. Righting herself after ducking the flying photographic equipment, Cousin Deborah laughed. "Jeeze, Diane! I didn't mean to scare the daylights out of you. It was a joke. Try some decaf." "What are you doing here?" Diane demanded, and immediately regretted it. If they knew she knew... "Getting some lunch. What do *you* normally do here?" Deborah asked, reasonably enough. "Look, I came in a little while ago and put my name on the waiting list. Care to join me? "Are you alone?" Diane nervously glanced around for other cousins. There had been that girl on the escalator, with the tattoos... Jamie? "For now." Deborah was peering over the hostess's shoulder at the list of names. "My name is next on the list and I asked for a booth. Plenty of room." "Room for who? Who're you expecting?" Diane backed up a half-step, preparing to bolt. "Nobody. Jeeze, I just meant that we'll both fit." Deborah gave her a long look before telling the waitress that her party was now two people. When she turned back, she frowned slightly. "Are you OK? I mean, you seem...jumpy." "I'm fine," Diane snapped. She licked her lips nervously as it occurred to her that an angry Cousin was much more dangerous than an (apparently) friendly one. "It's just--well, it's been a long day. That's all. Sure, I'll sit with you. I appreciate the offer. Really. I just thought that you might be--well--meeting someone." Realizing she was babbling, Diane shut up and glanced nervously sideways at the suspiciously friendly Cousin, to see how she was reacting. "Nope. I'm on my own for a bit," Deb assured her easily. "I'll hook up with some folks tonight. In the meantime, I thought I'd take a walk and suddenly had the most incredible urge for a burger. Anyway, I heard the burgers here were pretty good." The hostess called "Meinkuff?" and Cousin Deb rolled her eyes. "That's me. I think. Sounds like they got our table ready. How lucky that we ran into each other." "Yeah," Diane agreed, glumly. "My luck's really incredible that way today." They took their seats and their waitperson, a buff-looking college student, handed them menus. When they'd placed their orders, Deb sipped her Diet Coke and inquired, politely, "That's a pretty impressive camera. You must be pretty into the whole photography thing. I'm hopeless with it myself "Not really." Diane relaxed fractionally, but shifted the camera bag onto her lap anyway. "I've only had it about a year. Jennie Hayes borrows it a lot; she showed me the ropes." she told herself, hopefully. "I was adding the local church windows to my stained-glass collection." "Oh, then you must have gone to St. James, right?" Diane glared at her lunch-mate and leaned as far back as the booth would let her. she thought, mind racing like a squirrel in a cage. She forced her growing panic under control and admitted, reluctantly, "Yeah, I was there. This morning. How did you know?" "Well I figured you'd go there. That was the church in 'For I Have Sinned", right? And it *is* only a couple of blocks from here. Why wouldn't you go there?" The burgers arrived then, and the two concentrated on their food and their own thoughts. Their minds were not all that far apart actually. Diane was sure that sharing a table with Deborah had been a mistake. She just *knew* she was being set up and she kept checking for any sign that a trap was about to be sprung. Deborah, munching thoughtfully on a french fry, was wondering if lunching with Diane was such a good idea. She was obviously nervous about something. She kept glancing over her shoulder and at the door. Every little question put her on the defensive. the cousin thought. After a minute or two Deborah asked "So how's the War going for you?" "What's that supposed to mean? I'm unaffiliated, remember?" Diane glared from behind her burger. "Why should I be doing anything? Maybe I'm just *watching*. I don't get involved in your stupid little factional squabbles!" She took a huge bite of the teriyaki burger and chewed fiercely. "Ok, chill." "I just assumed that you were involved since you were here, but I guess I was wrong. Where are you staying?" "Yeah, like you don't already know." When Deborah looked thoroughly confused, Diane continued "Ask Candice; *she* knows everything." "Diane, I'm sorry if the question upsets you. Though, it does seems strange that you're being so secretive." Diane couldn't think of a graceful way out of that. "I'm rooming with a Merc, if you *must* know." "Oh, well, some of my best friends are Mercs. Are you done? I'm gonna ask the waiter for the check and then we can get outta here." "We?" Diane squeaked. "Well unless you want to photograph the kitchen here, yeah. I thought we would both be leaving." Deborah smiled, so Diane would know it was a joke. " If you want, I've got time to hang out. I was going to go check out the *Tower*. Wanna go?" "I *don't* think so. I'm not suicidal, y'know." Diane replied with a sniff. "And I've read the first War, too." Deborah racked her brain for *some* idea of what her lunch-mate meant by *that* remark. She dismissed the idea. They split the check and walked out, into the crowded concourse. "Listen," Deborah said, "I know lunch was a little rushed, but we should get together sometime. I mean, if you're not active in the War, you have plenty of time to spare, right? We could---" she tried quickly to think of *something* that they'd both like-- "oh, go antiquing at Harbourfront. It would be fun." "Oh, I suppose *you're* gonna give me a business card, too?" "Oh, well... I *can*." Deborah rummaged around in her bag until she came up with one. "Here ya go. Listen, I hope you find a lot of good pictures to add to your collection. Maybe I'll see ya later. Bound to, actually." With a wave, Deborah walked off toward the escalators and Yonge Street. Diane kept her back to the wall until the Cousin disappeared into the crowd, wondering what she meant by that last remark. It sounded awfully ominous. "So, *they* want me to go to Harbourfront, huh?" she muttered to herself. "Well, sorry, Cuz, but *I* don't get caught *that* easily." She debated taking to the underground tunnels for a moment. It would be easier to lose someone down there, with all the side-passages and exits and twisting corridors. Then again, just about *anybody* could be waiting down there, where the sun never came.... She decided against it. Decided, too, that her afternoon trip to the Necropolis, to photograph old tombstones, was *definitely* out. If LaCroix was after her----the last place she was going to go was a 145 year old cemetery. Suddenly, she knew what to do. Toronto Island! She could rent a bike, ride the antique carousel, gather color for that Nat-has-a-picnic fanfic she was working on--and there were lots of empty spaces out there. It would be *really* hard for anyone to follow her, and not be noticed. She should be safe there for the afternoon. She scurried out of the mall, using the stairs and keeping constant watch for following Cousins. ### I KNOW WHY THE CAGED BIRD SINGS (b) by Sharon Himmanen Time: Almost noon Place: Nat's apartment Sharon rapped loudly on the door of Nat's apartment. She no longer had her keys, having given them to Jennie when she'd been arrested, or she would have just walked in. She heard cautious, furtive movements behind the door and rapped again, four times, loudly. "It's Sharon," she heard Amy say from inside. "She *always* knocks that way." "Better check though," another voice said. "I'm hungry!" Sharon called through the door, which swung aside instantly. "You're hungry?" Jennie asked brightly. "Do you like fish?" ### THE RED QUEEN ENTERS THE FRAY by Priscilla Berry Shaw Time: Evening Place: Toronto Priscilla stood watching the airport luggage carrousel going around. Her luggage had been one of the last on - she hoped that meant it would be one of the first off - no such luck. This had already been a very strange week. Her consulting company was responsible for delivering the final release of the new electronic brokerage software to their client Charles Schwab & Co. The ridiculously tight schedules and last minute bugs had led to the inevitable extraordinary effort for completion. All week she had been working 18 hours a day, sleeping on a bed role in her office (thank God the place had showers), and living on delivered food. It was with a weary but satisfied sigh that she walked through the front door and dropped her purse, briefcase and laptop on the table. They had made it, the software worked and Schwab was impressed and happy. But for now, all she could think about was curling up in front of the fire with a chilled glass of white port and a plate of grav lox on pumpernickel. After building the fire, she headed to the 'fridge for the port and salmon. Priscilla opened the door and blinked. She closed the door and then reopened it and blinked again. "This job must really be getting to me," she thought. She closed the door and opened the freezer and then slowly closed that as well. "Either I'm cracking up or someone has stuffed both my freezer and fridge with Q-Tips - thousands and thousands of Q-Tips. Why would anyone want to chill Q-Tips? And what did they do with my Fonseca?" She opened the pantry door - and it too was stuffed with Q-Tips. In fact, every dish, pot, pan and cupboard in the kitchen was filled with Q-Tips. Priscilla went to her neglected answering machine and pushed the play button. Over 60 messages were in the queue from just the last four days. Included in these was a message from Cousin Celeste - "Hey Red Queen - there is a war brewing up Toronto way, I suggest you get up here pronto." There were other messages from assorted cousins that amounted to the same thing. Well that might explain why there was cotton and cardboard instead of comestibles in her larder. But it certainly didn't make her happy. After all the effort she had put into collecting ingredients from all over the world, she was not amused at the conversion to white fluffy sticks. If Toronto was where she must go to get to the bottom of this, then Toronto it was. She picked up the phone and dialed the person in Toronto that she dealt with the most - another Schwab consultant. "Hello Feliks, I need your help." Priscilla went on to describe the situation and somehow ended up discussing new herb varieties. "Definitely Feliks, I want to get a cutting of your new dwarf lovage - if I come to Toronto I can smuggle it back to San Francisco past the plant police on my return flight. Now, please call the Schwab Gods and insist we have to have a face to face extended meeting......No, I don't know how long yet.....I wouldn't want to put you out Feliks, I'll stay at a hotel....No, the Royal York is nice, but a bit massive. I really not that interested in networking right now....yes, I know, how disgraceful of me....why don't you have them book me into the Edward? In fact, why don't you use that wonderful persuasiveness of yours to have them get me a suite and a preapproved large expense account, I think I'm going to need it, Chuck can certainly afford it and after this release, he ows me..... Thank you dear heart, I'll see you tomorrow. So here she was, in Toronto in November, not having the foggiest notion of just what she was about to get her self into, but undoubtedly, she would get herself quite into the thick of things. Priscilla caught her bags off the luggage conveyor and headed for the car rental counter. Within minutes she was headed out of the airport with a detailed map showing her where the hotel and the Raven were. How thoughtful of Feliks to arrange a Mercedes for her. After checking into the hotel, Priscilla headed for the Raven. By-passing the long line waiting to get in, she headed for the front door. She provided a bit of a contrast from the other patrons. Priscilla was dressed in a clean line, classically styled black wool suit, very expensive and exquisitely tailored. "Cousins have a much more subtle sense of style then Ravenettes," she mused. A bouncer barred her from entering and she merely raised one eyebrow at him. He seemed unsure what to do for a moment and then waved her in. "These Puritan looks certainly come in handy sometimes," thought Priscilla, "either they think you very innocent, very prudish, very snobbish, or very commanding." She usually let people come to there own conclusions and played it accordingly as suited her purpose. As she stood surveying the club, a sleek voice asked if he could do anything for her. Priscilla turned and this time when the eyebrow shot up it really was because her Puritan side was a bit taken back. A very well built, very scantily clad redheaded man was being obsequiously attentive. She hadn't realized you could actually get a tarten on something that abreviated. After a moment, Priscilla composed herself enough to hide the female chauvinist smile that was forming on her face. "My word," she thought, "what is Uncle up to now? I know he never does anything without an ulterior motive, but *what* is this about? Is he going through a Roman homesick period? Well, this is certainly a change for the Raven." "I'm looking for....a group of relatives I'm suppose to meet here. Is LaCroix about?" "Ahh, you must be with the group in the back. Just follow me." "With pleasure sweetheart," thought Priscilla, but she only smiled and retained her sense of decorum. At the far end of the Raven Priscilla swept pass her guide into a much larger gathering of Cousins then she had expected. ### YOU CAN RUN, BUT YOU CAN'T HIDE (a) by Laura B. Waskey Time: noon Place: The Raven As Cousin Laura hung up the phone in the back room at The Raven, a pleased smile, no make that a self-satisified smile, came over her face. "I got them!", she yelled to no one in particular, and the few Cousins who were still hanging around the Raven, didn't even pay attention to her outburst. They all had their own schemes and plotting to do. As she walked out into the main area of The Raven, she thought about the reason why she was in Toronto in the first place. Of course, when Uncle calls, you come, but really she was here to capture and question the possible culprits of the "incident" that had occurred on Halloween night. Poor Uncle, to be attacked in his home and place of business, some people never learn: you don't mess with LaCroix! Oh well, that was their problem now and they would have to deal with the consequences of their actions! No innocent until you are proven guilty with us Cousins! You are guilty until we decide you're not. Gosh, she pitied Leslie and Jill. Uncle had specified that she find those two particular Natpackers because he had seen them in the Raven on the night in question. Maybe they had done it, maybe not. But, it would be fun to see Uncle "questioning" about the incident. Laura loved a good inquisition and Uncle could put the fear of God into people and make them spill their guts. All with the right *persuasion*, of course. Laura had seen Uncle do just that in the past. Remember that poor man from "Dead Air"? Ah, torture was fun! Now down to business. Laura had located Leslie and Jill. She had only been in Toronto about 12 hours, but her contacts in law enforcement had paid off. Her friend, Linda from Border Patrol had been the one on the phone. It seems that Ms. Jill and Leslie had flown into Toronto sometime this morning. Because they had to show I.D.to enter Canada, they had been identified and followed out of the airport. All because Laura had some friends put out an APB on them.Which meant that anytime their I.D. was shown and put into Boder Patrol's regular border crossing computer(which was kept to identify how many people crossed the US/Canadian border in a day) that a little while later an alarm would come across the computer screen and state that the persons had an APB out on them. This particular APB stated that the suspects were not to be detained, but followed to their destination. That is when Laura would take over. Two Canadian Border Patrol guards had followed the two women back to an apartment in Toronto and had called Linda to give her the address. Linda in return, had called Laura at The Raven and had passed alond the information. It paid sometimes to be a former police officer, having friends in all the right places and with access to certain information! This mission had been given to her directly from Uncle, so she would do it alone. No other Cousins would be needed to help her capture Jill and Leslie. In fact, Laura had it all planned out. She would wait outside the apartment and when Jill and Leslie came out of the building, she would grap them and bring the directly to Uncle. Now, all she had to do was gather up her "weapons" and handcuffs and get into her rental car and drive to that apartment building. An evil grin came across her face and some Cousins in the room moved away from her. Cousin Laura was on a mission and nothing could stop her!!! ### A REVELATION by Perri Smith Time: 1:30pm EST A few of them woke up early and even managed to talk to Nick, and to Natalie when she came by with the NatPack. The rest woke up slowly, one by one. After all, they 'd been awake for two days and almost none of them were on the local time zone. But one by one, they stumbled into conciousness. The three kidnappees stayed in bed; by unspoken accord, the others let them. they'd also gotten first showers the night before, but that was more for everyone else's survival than theirs. Nick, too, had gone back to bed after Natalie had left, muttering something about 'coffins.'. The late risers made a minimum of noise getting breakfast ready - actually, it was past noon, so it was more like lunch. But they were hungry enough, even after the souvlaki and pizza the night before, to eat almost anything. No one talked about anything in particular; gossip about various faction members was the order of the day for those who were coherent. "We're almost out of food," someone commented. "We didn't get much," Amy shrugged, stifling a yawn. "We'll have to go out again." "Ummm," Perri said in something that resembled agreement. Her eyes weren't open, it was hard to tell. She'd been one of the last to sleep and one of the last to get up. Across the room, Scottie groaned and rolled from her sleeping bag. "I need a cigarette," she said before *her* eyes were open. "Outside," Catherine said, "Unless they're candy." "Does she look like a Ravenette?" Corvia cracked. "Eh?" Perri asked, looking up (sort of.) "Hadn't you hear about that?" Paula asked. "It's been all over the list." Perri started to look (more) alert. "No, I've been, ah, a little busy. I was on digest anyway. What about candy cigarettes?" "That's what the Ravenettes got for their surprise," Catherine said. "The NatPackers got coffins, we got bricks, they got candy cigarettes. I hear LJC was spitting nails." Which was actually a pretty good description of what Perri was doing. "Candy cigarettes?" she yelped. "Merde! Merdemerdemerde! She stood right here and lied to me! Twice! Merde!" "What?" Amy asked in total confusion. No one else was doing any better. Perri cursed for a couple more minutes before calming down enough to spit out, "We were wrong. It wasn't Cousins who attacked us the first times." "Then who?" Scottie asked, forgetting about the cigarette in the shock of seeing Perri coherent so soon after waking. "None of you were at Dead of Winter II, when me and my roommates decided to play a prank on LJC and replace her cigarettes with candy. She faked us out by not bringing any, but we stuck then in her luggage anyway." "And?" "I was rooming with Amy Hull and Jennie Hayes." It took a second to sink in. "The NatPack?" Amy finally said. "Yeah." "I thought you were going to have to be convinced of that. And they got attacked, too." Maryann pointed out. "I know they said they were," Perri said grimly. "But did anyone see coffins in their rooms? And everyone else has been yelling their heads off on the list. I haven't heard the NatPack screaming, have any of you?" Heads shook all around. "Besides," Perri added with a flash of humor, "they're about the only ones besides me who'd take LJC on personally. No one else dares anymore." "This is a stretch," Catherine warned slowly. "Yeah. But it's true." "Why?" "I don't know," Perri said. "But I'm going to find out. And get revenge in blood." "We've gotta tell Nick." "No," Catherine stopped a few Knighties who seemed inclined to race up the stairs. "If it was the NatPack, Natalie was in on it. I don't want him to know that yet. Not yet." Perri and Amy nodded agreement. "Let's go," Perri said, starting to get up. "I want to kill Jennie personally." And again, Catherine stopped her. "i have a better idea. Instead of getting mad, let's get even." And after she told them, even Perri had to admit it was inspired. "You should have been a Cousin, Cath." "If the other factions have figured this out, they'll be in ove their heads in attacks," Paula commented. "Yeah," Perri smiled, "but this'll take a while to set up anyway. It can wait." ### GOT A Q-TIP IN MY BOOT (BIE-DI-EIE) by AC Chapin Time: 2:14 pm Place: College Park, MD There were Q-Tips in her boots. Now, this wouldn't really have been such a problem had AC not possessed quite so many boots. Four pairs of Doc Martins and faux Doc Martins, one pair brown suede, two pair black suede knee-length (one plain, one lace-up) two pair purple suede (one half, one full length) and two pair snowbooties with insulation linings, all brimming over with lovely snowy white Q-Tips. There were Q-Tips stuck through the buttonholes of her silk shirts, all seventeen of them. There were Q-Tips in all eight of her hats, and it only helped a little to imagine the cost to the perpetrator of filling that 18-inch tall red and purple reversible crushed velvet top hat with Q-Tips. Oh, she was peeved. And then, oh horror, then she moved the mouse to bring Sinople (the computer that was red and green at the same time) out of screen-saver hibernation. It was worse than she could possibly have imagined. When she had left that morning, Sinople had been cheery old Red Sinople, running Linux with photos of Unclein the background of X-Windows, his chilling eyes and sensuous lips sometimes distracting her from email for whole minutes (more than the need to do homework ever managed). But someone had rebooted Sinople, and brought out its evil Green side. Someone had booted it up in *DOS* and, worse, was running *Windows*. And in the background, behind the clumsy icons of the user-friendly, user-sweet, ultimately Nick-like OS... Q-Tip wallpaper. Her trembling fingers finding their way to control-alt-delete, AC came to understand the meaning of WAR. Later, with Sinople returned to her Red self and Uncle sneering at her from beind a window, AC began to relax. Finally she picked up the phone and dialed long distance. "Hello?" It didn't sound like the bartender, probably a cousin who had already made it to Toronto. "This is AC, I'm a Cousin?" "Ah-si-ya?" "Yeah; it's spelled AC." The anonymous cousin rummaged audibly. "We've got you listed as unaffiliated." "Well, somebody knew better, cos I just got Q-Tipped and I hear I'm not the only one." "Let me guess, you want Uncle to pay your way to Toronto?" "Um, no, actually. I can't stay in Toronto, so I'll be using my own transportation. But can you tell whoever Uncle has directing the troops on this shindig..." "That would be Cousins Deborah and Candice." "Right, tell them that since the war --again-- is starting right between midterms and finals, I can't do a lot, but I'm up for a quick job or two if they need me." "Sure. You want to talk to his Uncle-ness?" "Um, no, not right now. Thanks. Bye." AC hung up hurriedly. The last thing she needed now was to talk to LaCroix. Uncle was sensitive about some things. Roses, Spike, his Tom Lehrer collection... And then some things just seemed to really annoy him. Like crosses, and the Brick, and anemic Cousins. And AC was anemic like the Brick was angst ridden. So, until she a) had a real iron count again or b) could prove herself a useful little Cousin, AC planned to stay out of Uncle's way. And now, to figure out what to do to those **** Knighties (it had to be the Knighties, it just had to) who had booted up her precious Sinople in DOS. She had quite forgotten the boots and the hats and the silk shirts. Which made dressing the next morning definitely more interesting. ### SEASON'S GREETINGS (Part 1) by AC Chapin Time: 3:56pm EST Place: AC's college It often happened when she was trying to write out a resume or write a personal essay for an application. AC realized that all her skills were, well, stupid. 1. lightning fast crochet oh yeah, she could see it now "'Ware you Knightie fools, for I can make a doily faster than you can build a guilt complex." 2. a certain flair for stupid and annoying computer tricks "Hey, Nat, could I install Linux on your computer so I can make it pop up Uncle's face and say "That will be trouble" every four-and-a-half minutes?" 3. a vast store of philological trivia "Didja know it's a murder of crows, a tiding of magpies, a parliment of rooks, and an unkindness of Ravens? No offense, of course." Hmm. Oh, well, at least she had a good way to get to Toronto. Rucksack on her back, ankle length black trenchcoat covering all five-foot-two of her, black hat firmly on her head, she walked out the front doors of her dorm and straight forward to the round brick platform that sat before it. The Plug. Few people knew that the College Park campus of the University of Maryland was built right atop the bowels of hell. Oh, most people noticed that all the sewer gratings on campus belched smoke from October to mid-April, but only a very few realized that the brick Plug outside Montgomery Hall was all that held back the infernal creatures that made that smoke. If ever the Plug were pulled out, the hordes of hell would spill forth over campus and make the people in the Bursar's office look like sweet little Knighties. She climbed up onto the plug and looked down at the bricks under her feet. "Nah," she muttered, "I won't even say that. The Knighties might decide I was worth something more unpleasant than Q-Tips." The plug also had one other function. If you stood on it and faced Montgomery, whatever you said would echo back at you. And sometimes it would grant the wish that was spoken. Now, what started with T...? hmm. ok, stupid but possible. She was thinking, foolishly, vaguely, that her list of accomplishments would have done her better had she lived in the past. Crochet had once been a valued ability, hadn't it? "Trip me to Toronto." she said. The words bounced off the building before her and came back. AC felt as though her ankle had caught on something. She fell forward and caught herself on her hands. On the concrete floor. Amid the dancing boots of several dozen extremely interested-looking vampires. She stood up carefully, somewhat overbalanced by her rucksack. The Raven! The plug had worked. "Yes! Ye..." she trailed off, getting a good look at the place. Chains, goths, Miklos, and Janette at the bar, crystal goblet of blood in hand, a black choker around her neck. "Crud. Oh, crud." AC hissed, inching towards the door. "I'm in the wrong season!" ### SEASON'S GREETINGS (Part 2) by AC Chapin Time: An unspecified point during the first season Place: Happy Souvlaki Deli "Great, just smegging vunderbar." Not enough that she was a Cousin so anemic it was amazing she could stand upright. Not enough that the war, as always, was taking place during that certain magic time between midterms and finals. Not enough that she had managed to travel from College Park to Toronto by falling on her face. But she was in the wrong *season*! In a little booth in the cozy warmth of Toronto's famous Happy Souvlaki Deli, AC added one more skill to her list 4) Pouting for extended periods. Of course, it was her own fault for thinking about living in the past while making a wish on the plug. At least she had only been moved three or four years into the past; it could have been so much worse. But still, as the magnificent souvlaki before her cooled, she pouted. And pouted. She took off her hat and raked fingers through thick dark hair and pouted some more. And then something happened that made it all worth it. Something wonderful happened. The door opened. A man in a trenchcoat came in. He ordered take-out and leaned on the bar, waiting. And about four minutes later he was gone again, muttering about the foul weather. Tears were streaming down AC's cheeks. "Man oh man oh man oh man." She muttered, scrubbing at her eyes. "Uncle is Uncle, and Oh! The Knight... But Donny, I missed you something terrible." A souvlaki and a tiramisu later, the Cousin was feeling ready to face the world again. She had already seen Janette and Miklos and Schanke, so this season wasn't such a bad place to be. And she had the chance to get the jump on the other factions ages before the war even began. Admittedly, there wasn't a whole lot she could do, not knowing exactly what would be happening three or four years from now. But any chance to strike a blow for Uncle... She opened her rucksack on the seat beside her and rummaged through it. Near the bottom she found the little notebook where she kept hard copy of any information she thought she might ever need. She had 'crawler, the laptop version of Sinople, with her, but even had she had some place to plug in its modem, any information she might try to get from her account wouldn't even exist yet. So, what to do, what to do? The Knighties clearly needed to be taught a lesson for the whole Q-Tip episode. Unless of course that had been someone else's doing... Nah, had to be those Knighties. Nobody else would be dumb enough to mess with Uncle's own. But first, a side trip...just a little surprise for that unwashed slacker. Not that she really disliked him, but he was taking up all the airtime that could so much better have been spent on Lacroix. Vachon. Hmph. Sounded like something Odo might sing in a Disney movie. AC wandered out of the sweet haven of the Happy Souvlaki Deli, singing under her breath. "Les Vachons, Les Vachons how I love Les Vachons dah dah dah, dah dah dee dee dee doo. Les Vachons, Les Vachons hee hee hee haw haw haw..." ### SEASON'S GREETINGS (Part 3) by AC Chapin Time: First season Place: Toronto "-chon, Les Vachon hee hee hee haw haw haw..." and now the da*n song was stuck in her head. Oh well, worth it. Quite quite worth it. First thing, AC had arranged a hotel room and bought a few black off-the-shoulder angora sweaters against the Toronto cold. If she felt any remorse about writing checks for these on an bank account that would not be opened for two more years, it didn't show in the slightest. She had hoped to be crashing with some kindly Cousin, or at the Raven if she could avoid LaCroix. Now it looked like avoiding Uncle wouldn't be a problem. He'd still be playing dead for months. Sitting on the hotel bed, AC began sketching out plans in her notebook. Vaqueros, Pekulators, Natpack, Nick&Natpack, Ravens, FoDs, DieHards Reeses Pieces, etc... And Knighties, oh yes, Knighties. She looked again at the long list. How could there possibly be so many factions? Her mind wandering, she began doodling on the next page: top ten factions that *aren't* in this war... 10 Dragon Clippers People who think that even if Janette doesn't return, her clothes should. 9 Vestiges Fans of Nick's vests. 8 Turquoise (pronounced "turkeys") Fans of that da*n car. (recently split into two seperate factions, hell-bent on each other's destruction -- the Mean Greens and the True Blues) 7 Lonely Goatherds Fans who think Nat and LaCroix should both give up on Nick and he should bring her across and they should sit around watching The Sound of Music on laserdisk for all eternity. 6 FDP (Friends of Dead Psychics) Fans of all the psychics who have lost their lives to FK plots over the years. 5 Hold Mees (or should that be Hold Mooses?) fans of that diabolical evil genius, Alyce Hunter. 4 Knighties Fans of that blond guy who used to be on the show. [] 3 FT-FDA Fans of the Thirty-Five Degree Angle used in the flashbacks. 2 NatRatPack Fans who think Nat should ditch Nick and run off for a quickie Vegas wedding with Screed. 1 BlondOnBlond Fans who think Nick should ditch Nat and bring his one true soul mate, Briquette to his Brick, Tracy, across. And an idea began to form. A very bad no good contemptible, downright *Cousinly* idea. ### SEASON'S GREETINGS (Part 4) by AC Chapin Time: First Season Place: Toronto There was one in the baseboard of Natalie's bedroom wall, one in the rail of Nick's raised bedroom in the loft, one under the carpet in Tracy Vetter's bedroom, and one in the fireplace of the abandoned church where Vachon might already have set up housekeeping (It was dusty and icky-looking when AC got there, but given Vachon's habits, that didn't mean he wasn't already there). AC, after long deliberation, had decided that the FoD's had troubles enough. As for the Ravenettes, trouble though they were, AC wasn't about to mess with Janette just because her followers didn't know enough to leave Uncle alone. And besides, these things were gauranteed to work only if in constant use, and there was no place to leave one at the Raven and be sure that Janette would take it with her when she went wherever without noticing it. Standing in the back room of the loft, the room where Nick kept his vats of cow's blood (euch!), AC looked down at the master control in her hand. A very nice, very sleek bit of workmanship. These continuous play, subliminal hypnosis units were a practical joker's dream come true. Even resistors were gauranteed to fall under the influence after six months, and these would be playing their messages, all but silent to even vampire hearing, for the next three years. Better, since these units were usually used in laboratory experiments, they monitored as well as playing messages. With just a flick of the switch, she could listen to herself there in the loft. This kept her entertained for nearly half an hour. But now it was time to tamper a little with Nick's cow supply. "If he comes back," AC muttered to herself, "I'll just say I'm a Cousin and I'm here as part of an FKFIC WAR. Then while he's calling the men in the white coats I'll run for the hills." The Litovuterine-R was clear, but at the ratio in which AC was mixing it into Nick's vats of blood, he wasn't going to notice any thinning. Anyway, according to the man she had bought it from, it should actually make the cow blood taste a little more like human (lucky there were so many off-the-net Cousins in the biochemisty department at Maryland). She had meant to offer the stuff to Uncle, for whatever he might want to use it for, just in case he got hold of her while she was in Toronto. Now, well, she had a use of her own for it. Litovuterine was amazing stuff. So many applications... like making vampires temporarily mortal, or like affecting how vampires process different types of blood. Every time Nick drank from his store of cow blood from now on, he'd be getting a little bit of L-R. And he wouldn't notice one bit. But if anything were to happen to this supply, and he had to drink pure cow blood... Much later, back in College Park, AC almost fell into bed chuckling. Oh she was tired. And at various times that day the following things happened. Nick went to bed, never quite registering, but still hearing, over and over, "Surrender to the might of the Hold Mooses." And Nat went to bed, never quite registering, but still hearing, over and over, "Surrender to the might of the Lonely Goatherds." And Tracy went to bed, never quite registering, but still hearing, over and over, "Surrender to the might of the Vestiges." And Vachon curled up in his coffin, never quite registering, but still hearing, over and over, "Surrender to the might of the NatRatPack." And since not a single one of them had ever heard of Hold Mooses, or Lonely Goatherds, or Vestiges, or the NatRatPack, not a single subconscious among them tried to resist the nonsensical commands. They all slept very well. The next morning, bleary, exhausted, badly in need of an iron pill, AC stumbled from bureau to closet. Underwear, jeans, sweater, socks, boots... there were things in her boots, her muzzy brain told her. Pretty pretty white things. Oh yeah, the Q-Tips. That's how the whole thing got started in the first place. ### IF IT MAKES YOU FEEL GOOD by A.M. Marcoux Time: 4:04 pm EST Place: Toronto Journal DAY TWO i did it again last night. i had to know if i'm the one who's crazy, or if it's reality that's turned inside out. >TO: fkfic-l@psuvm.psu.edu >FROM: marc3108@mtroyal.ab.ca >SUBJ: WAR: On the Chessboard Part 2 >WAR V >On the Chessboard part 2 >by A.M. Marcoux >Andria was right about Toronto. >Affiliated from every faction were flooding the city launching counter >attacks, and there was a rumour that the Natpack had started this war, >tho few who spokeit actually believed it. >Andria did believe it, and she also believed in the same >passive-aggressive credo the Natpack seemed to be living by these days: >Don't get mad. Get even. >She had spent most of the night working on her revenge, and all over >Metro Toronto very official memos were being read and puzzled over and >obeyed. She had never dreamed that the corperate music machine could be >so useful. >All she had to do was wait. >(to be continued...) i woke up this morning in an outragiously expensive hotel room, turned on the t.v., punched up the music station and saw a rather confused V.J., the new one, announcing a change in programming focus: "That's right, all codependant, all the time. So to start us up here's Janice Joplin going out to the Natpack, on Much" i hit mute, and turned on the radio. "Take another little piece of my heart now baby. You know you got it, if it makes you feel good." it was on every station here in metro toronto. oh yeah, i'm in toronto. i know this for sure because i called the front desk and asked them. why would they lie? all i have to do to prove i'm not crazy is go find the others. if there are any. ### YOU CAN RUN, BUT YOU CAN'T HIDE (b) by Laura B. Waskey Time: 5:00 pm EST Place: Toronto Cousin Laura looked out the car window and took a sip of her coffee. She had left the Raven about 4 hours ago and had driven straight to the address given to her by her Border Patrol buddy, Linda. Those Natpackers,Jill and Leslie were in that building. She had been patiently waiting for them to emerge from Natalie Lambert's apartment for over four hours. She intended to grab them as soon as they left the security and safety of the Natpack that was crashed out in Dr. Lambert's digs. Yes, they wouldn't know what hit them and soon she would bring them before Uncle for questioning. Her mission was almost finished and she hoped that if it was successful, LaCroix would let her go home to start preparing for that big test she had next week in her Deviance and Social Control class. War was hell. From the back of her rental car, something moved. "Soon, my little one, soon, " she said. With her "weapon" safely tucked away in its cage, she checked her purse for other essentials. Handcuffs, medication, and her disguse,a "I worked late on my Birthday and no one brought me a cute vampire" button. Yes, she would wear that when she spotted Leslie and Jill leaving the building,so maybe they wouldn't run from her. Suck them into a false sense of security!! After all, when it wasn't wartime Leslie and she did run a certain vampire's fan club. Suddenely, the door to Natalie's building opened and two figures emerged. It was them ! Laura grabbed her purse and quickly put on the button.Then she put the two sets of handcuffs in her jeans backpockets and slowly got out of the car.She opened the backseats' car door and took out the weapon from inside its cage.She slowly made her way towards the women. They were talking amongst themselves and she could faintly overhear them, something about never eating fish again. What was that about? Maneuvering behind them so they wouldn't see her, Laura started to follow them as they walked down the street. Suddenly her weapon made a sound, and Jill turned around. Darn, her cover was blown. "Laura?", Jill said. Quickly, Laura attacked. She grabbed Leslie and with a choke hold learned from her days at the police academy, she brought her weapon up under Leslie throat. Leslie gasped. A cat. A big, furry, fluffy cat! Leslie was *very* allergic to cats. "Follow me, or your friend gets it!", Laura said to Jill. Jill cried, "But, Laura we're friends!" "Not anymore, Natpacker! Uncle has ordered me to bring you to him-immediately. He knows you both were at the Raven on Halloween night and he has some questions for you. Lets get going, don't want to keep him waiting, do we?" "If we go with you, you won't hurt Leslie?", Jill said. "No, in fact if you get in the car, I give her her allergy medication so the cat won't affect her," Cousin Laura sneered. "Ok, we're coming," and slowly Jill, Laura and Leslie made their way to the car. Leslie hadn't said a word during the kidnapping because she was too busy sneezing her head off and trying to catch her breath because that darn cat was under her nose. Uncle would be pleased, as soon they would be at The Raven. ### SWABBIES: A BRIQUETTE'S WORST NIGHTMARE (Part 1) by Cousin Will "Grandfather" Steeves Time: 5:00 pm. Place: Toronto It was getting late, very late. Will was cleaning house with more ferocious madness than a whirling dervish, eagerly preparing for Cousin Jennifer to arrive from New York City...as partial thanks to her and Cousin Linny for their kind hospitality in Boston during August. Then, he suddenly remembered: "She's not coming HERE...I have to meet HER at Union Station at 7:20...Oh, no! My clothes are still wet, half the rooms are still messy, and it takes an hour to get downtown along the Don Valley Parking Lot" (that's Don Valley Parkway, of the southern half of Highway 404, for people who don't otherwise know Toronto). He decided to abandon most of his work. He ran downstairs, spawning tornadoes as he jumped whole sets of stairs. "Blast, my jeans are wetter than sin - oh, well, too bad," he muttered, as he put on jeans just washed under an hour and a half ago. Finding an equally wet shirt, he threw _that_ on as well, then proceeded out the door to his black-as-sin (First "wetter than sin," now black as sin? What's going on here?) 1986 Buick Century Limited with seditious markings (what the heck? Ask Knightie Anna about _that_ one), only to remember that the driver side door was as screwed up as sin (okay, enough of the "----- as sin", already, sheesh!)... As he proceeded to begin his entrance from the passenger side, he noticed a package on the ground by the door. "Hmmm...somebody who knows that I can't use the other side - amusing". He thought of not bothering to open the package, suspecting that all of those loony, politically correct, hyper-radical groups who say "all men are potential rapists," who three years ago had threatened him with death for daring to disagree with them in public, finally found him and were itching to deliver on their collective promise. "Feh..." he thought, "oh, what the hell?" as he opened the package. To Will's happy surprise, the package did not explode. To Will's utter confusion, however, there were only three items in the package: 1) a Q-tip with a small pair of red fangs attached. 2) a charcoal briquette, also with red fangs attached, and the words "This is a charcoal (Brick) briquette" written on it. and 3) a business card from "The Raven," and a message on the other side saying: "Cousin Will, Join in our crusade. Uncle." "Uncle?!? Uncle who? Hmmm....whatever can it all mean?" Figuring that this must be some sort of strange Psi Upsilon Fraternity prank, Will resolved first to pick up Jennifer on time, then take off to investigate this strange place called the Raven. ### INVADED...AGAIN by Lana G. Soward Time: 5:15pm EST Place: Outside Natalie's Apartment The three Die-Hards waited in the bushes and watched while Laura forced Jill and Leslie in her car. Leslie had a huge cat practically stuffed up her nose and was sneezing violently. Leah, Helen and Ariel could still hear her sneezing as the car pulled off into the night. They checked over the address carefully. They didn't want a repeat of last night when they had gotten lost, and couldn't manage to even *find* Natalie's apartment, let alone exact some Die Hard retribution. "That looks like another faction has started attacking her already. We're definitely in the right place." Ariel quickly put away her small mini-binoculers. "Do you think anyone's still in there?" asked Leah, as she stared at Natalie's apartment building. "Let's find out," said Ariel. She pulled out a cellular phone and a piece of paper. Quickly, dialing Natalie's number, she let it ring. It rang four times and the answering machine clicked on. "Hi. You've reached..." "No one's there," said Ariel, flipping the phone shut and stowing in her pocket. "Let's go." Quickly, the three slipped across the street and into the apartment building. When they reached Natalie's apartment, Helen quickly knelt and pulled out a set of lock picks. After she inspected the lock, she selected two picks and quickly began to feel her way through the tumblers. That book I ordered through the mail really came in handy, she thought and felt a satisfying click. "Got it!" "I'm impressed," said Ariel to Helen. "Let's get this over with quickly before anyone else arrives to attack her." Quickly, they slipped inside locking and chaining the door behind them. They hoped that the chain would give them ample warning if someone came back. They worked methodically, pulling drawers out and attaching the playi ng mechanisms on the back and also inside the cabinets. Some were stuck into the refrigerator. Leah went into the bathroom and put about ten on the toilet seat lid. As she was getting ready to leave, she paused and went back and put some on the ring, fixing it so that they would start to play when someone sat down. Since there were never any men in Natalie's apartment, no one would be lifting the seat. At least no men who need to use the toilet, snickered Leah to herself. Once her mission was accomplished, she left the bathroom and continue to the bedroom, where Ariel was busy working. "Would you look at this stuff," said Ariel, her fashion sense jumping into play. "What is it with all this orange? What does she want to do? Blend in with her apartment?" "Maybe someone can come over and paint her apartment," mused Helen. "Give it a real face lift." "And maybe the Ravenettes could come over and go through her closet." said Leah, pulling open a drawer. "On second thought, maybe some of them already have." The Die-Hards clustered around the drawer, which was filled with filmy lingerie. Leah reached in pulled out a black lace teddy. "I hate these things," she said. "It always feels like you have a wedgie." Dropping the teddy back into the drawer, she pulled the drawer out and began attach the mechanism to the drawer. As she slid the drawer back into the bureau, she noticed something sliding around under the lingerie. She pushed the underwear aside and her eyes lit up. We can use this, she thought. Quickly, she grabbed it and stuffed it in her shirt. I can't wait to get back and tell Lana and Dawn about it. Forty-five minutes later they were finished. Quietly, they unchained the door and cautiously peeked out. When they made sure that no one was around, they slipped out, making sure that the door was locked behind them. "Natalie will be looking for weeks after the war, trying to find all those things," gloated Helen, as she got into the car. "We head to her office next, right?" "Right! We'll have to make sure of when she goes out on a call, before we start though." said Ariel, as she pulled out of the parking lot. "We can stake out her car. When it's gone we know we can move in." Leah didn't say anything. She merely clutched the object hidden in her shirt and smiled contentedly. ### LURKER FED-EX by Vicki Jean Merriman Time: Early afternoon. "Are you sure we should get involved?" Rastro asked her fellow lurker in crime. She fastened a handy knot on her new tie. There was already a spot of chocolate on it. "We're only delivering messages and besides, it kind of fits in with our master plan," Maddog responded, trying on her hat. She finally decided that it should go on sideways. "True, delivering messages to the Cousins, we might get a clue to where Lacroix is." "Yeah, besides it was an excuse to ste.. acquire these snazzy outfits. Got the list?" "Sure do, let's tesserect," the Australian woman activated the inter-dimensional, one of a kind, it takes you here, it takes you there and makes julienne fries tesserect which teleported the Lurker pair to the first person on their long list. "Lurker Fed-Ex," the two said in unison. "We've got a message for you, sign here!" ### WINGING IT ON IN by Jill Marie Spetoskey Jill Marie flipped through the tattered flight magazine. She couldn't fault the person who had booked her flight. After all, it wasn't often that a government agency would fly someone out for a second interview for a job, but having to make her way to Seattle by way of Boston after starting out in Ann Arbor was a little bit much even for someone like her who liked to fly. At least she was headed west now, though. "Ladies and Gentlemen, this is your captain speaking. We've been hoping that we could get you on through to Seattle before the storm front we've been watching swung south. However, the first big winter storm front of the season is now travelling eastward after dumping about six inches of snow in Topeka, and 18 inches in Minneapolis. On the advice of the National Weather Service, we're going to make a landing in Toronto rather than trying to head through the storm." Jill Marie listened for a moment, then flipped back through the flight mag looking for the hotel ad she'd seen a few pages back. "Better early than later," she mumbled, and picked up the phone attached to the seat back. She knew she was stuck in Toronto for at least the night, maybe longer. After a few minutes, she had booked a room for the night, and a few minutes later, she was back on the phone with the people in Seattle. Her second call was not as fortunate. The personnel department there informed her that THESE type of expenses were not covered by their department. After the plane landed, she headed to the airline desk. She tried to reroute herself back toward Seattle, but even with changing planes in Tulsa, Colorado Springs, and Dallas/Ft. Worth, there was no way they could get her to Seattle around the approaching storm. Defeated, she grabbed a newspaper and a cab, and headed to her hotel. She checked into her room, and flipped through the television channels, but nothing good was on. They must just export all the shows I like, she thought. An idea formed in her head, and she headed back down to the check-in desk. "So what are my chances of getting Maple-Leafs tickets?" she asked the clerk. "Not good, since the Blackhawks are in town, this game's been sold out for weeks." "Any place I can get tickets?" "Well, I do know this bar down the ways named the Raven. Owner's gotten a friend of mine tickets a time or two, but you have to pay premium." "Thanks." She got directions from the clerk, and headed out. She wasn't crazy about paying high rates. But, her original plan of taking a day after the interview to drive up to Vancouver for a day was now shot because of the storm, and she had some extra cash now. Besides, the exchange rate was great. When she got to the Raven, she looked around, and decided she was in way over her head with this crowd. A mass of glittering and glamourous looking people swarmed around her. She made her way to the bar. "Can I help you?" the bartender asked. "Yeah, what kind of pop do you have here?" "Pop?" "Oops, I mean soda. It's a Michigan word." "Whatever you want, we have." "Don't suppose you can make me an old-fashioned cherry coke? You know the kind with real cherry syrup, not just the stuff produced by the folks in Atlanta?" "I'll fix it for you then." The bartender returned with her drink, and she thanked him. As she started to watch the crowd gathered, she forgot about the hockey tickets. There was something big that was going to happen, and the crowd knew it. Something that was problably more exicting, and even bloodier than a Bob Probert crosscheck. ### AN UNKINDNESS OF RAVENS by Jill Bradley Time: Afternoon Place: Sheraton Toronto Centre hotel Clearly agitated, Jill paced the carpet in the hotel room she shared with Sheryl. "Go ahead," Sheryl said. "Light one up. You're making me nuts with the pacing." Hours spent in airports and non-smoking flights had taken their toll on Jill's nerves. Maybe a cig would calm her down. The gin and soda was working fine for Sheryl. Jill light her cigarette, took a long drag, and smiled. "Filthy habit. At least I know it can't kill me." They laughed nervously. The joke reminded them of their missing leader. Sheryl picked up the late edition of the TO Sun she'd bought in the hotel lobby and flipped through the pages, checking headlines, etc. ... "Jillby, check this out," she said. "There's a blurb in the police log about the Raven." Jill sat down on the bed and read it aloud: "Police seek clues in disappearance. The former owner of a popular night spot,the Raven, was reported missing, according to Metro homicide Det. Tracy Vetter." Jill snickered. "I'm a *good* cop!" She continued reading: "Janette DuCharme, 32, was last seen by cleaning service employees, Det. Vetter said. 'At this point, we don't have any idea of Ms. DuCharme's whereabouts,' she said. 'We're investigating a possible connection between the recent vandalism to the Raven, and Ms. DuCharme's disappearance.' " Sheryl coughed, nearly swallowing an ice cube. "Geez. Leave it to the Brick and Button to be completely clueless about what's going on." Jill nodded in agreement. "According to police reports, the club was damaged by vandals on Halloween. Patrons and furnishings were soaked by ceiling sprinklers, and some recording equipment was damaged. The club's current owner, listed only as L. LaCroix, could not be reached for comment." Jill rose and crossed to the wet bar. She mixed a gin and tonic and took a long drink. "That's better," she said. "I guess we need to get cleaned up and head for the Raven. Time to see for ourselves what the hell's going on." Sheryl grabbed a suitcase, one of three she'd brought, hoisted it onto a bed and began rummaging for an outfit. They both jumped as the phone rang.... Jill picked it up gingerly. "Yeah? Oh, oh, great, come on up. Room 222." She replaced the receiver and began to change from her customary tee and jeans to a more suitably Ravenesque costume. "That was Cynthia, from California. She just got in, mmmpphhh." Sheryl heard some mumbling as Jill pulled the tee over her head. The phone jangled again. "I'll get this one," Sheryl said as Jill got dressed. "What?" Sheryl yelled into the receiver. "How do you know this? Why should we trust you? Yes, yes, OK, we'll do " Jill stopped dressing and asked, "What the hell was that?" Sheryl put the phone down and looked at Jill, shocked. "I don't know it was, but he said Leslie and Jill are being held at the Raven! By LaCroix!" Now it was Jill's turn to look stunned. "We have to get over there -- NOW!" Sheryl took one more sip of her drink, and started to change her clothes. "No sense going off half-dressed," she said. "After all we are Ravenettes!" As they left, Cynthia arrived at their room. "Here's the keys, Cynthia, " Jill said. "We gotta run, but we'll see you at the Revenant. The address is over there on the table. Later!" ### WHAT'S ALL THIS, THEN? Or: Cousin Tok Joins the Fray. by Lisa Luksus Time: Afternoon Place: Toronto Cousin Tok fumed as she guided her car through the streets of Toronto. She was late and Uncle would not be pleased. Was it her fault the world had exploded into Q-Tips? She'd gotten home last night from a rough evening at her writers' group, where some *jerk* had expressed his belief that the latest chapter of her vampire epic was running a little long by saying "Thank God it's over!" After her friend had dropped her off back at the house, she'd gone to the freezer to get her favorite comfort food, Bailey's-flavored Haagen Dazs. The carton felt unusually light -- had she eaten more of it than she'd remembered? Wait a minute...ice cream doesn't rattle. She carefully pried the lid off and screamed in surprise when handfuls of Q-tips shot into her face. Gandalf and Merlin, her cats, had been scared spitless by her sudden outburst. It had taken her at least half an hour to calm the two kitties down. By way of apology, she took them back into the kitchen to give them some kitty treats. Tok picked up the carton of Pounce and pulled off the plastic lid. @#$^$#!!! The carton was full of Q-tips too. This was too much! It was one thing to mess with her, but when someone messed with her babies, enough was enough. The War was on, alright. It didn't take long to pack her things, or the cats' gear. (Hey, they had a stake in this too!) Who was behind all the Q-tip explosions? The Natpackers wouldn't mess with cats, would they? Natalie was a cat person, after all. It wasn't Nick's style, either. Hmmm...the Ravens/Ravenettes had been cranky ever since Janette had sold the Raven and disappeared. Or it could be one of those new factions. Who could keep track of them all? She lugged all their stuff out to the garage to load up the car. The three of them stopped dead in their tracks at the sight of the Corolla stuffed *full* of Q-tips. There had to be thousands of them. Maybe millions. Even the trunk was filled. Tok opened the driver's side door and was inundated by cotton swabs. Kinda like Captain Kirk and the Tribbles, she thought to herself grimly. As soon as she could reach the hood release, she popped the hood and checked the engine compartment. Thank goodness they hadn't thought to put any there! Still, it had taken her ages to get the Q-tips out of the car. Enough of them to fit her and the cats and their luggage in, anyway. The condition the interior of her car was usually in, it didn't make much difference. They drove all night from Chicago to Toronto. By the time they got to the Raven and found a parking place, all three of the car's occupants were calming down. Revenge was the issue here. They had to find out who had done this to Cousins all over, not to mention what had been done to Uncle and his club. Here at Cousin Central was the place to start finding answers. Slinging the backpack containing Junior the amazing bouncing laptop computer over her shoulder, she walked into the Raven, with Gandalf and Merlin at her heels. None of them noticed the trail of Q-tips they left behind them. ### THIS ISN'T FUNNY ANYMORE by Vickie Adams Time: Mid-afternoon Place: Danbury, Ct. Vickie laughed as she read the latest updates on the progress of her fellow cousins. Luckily, she was immune from such tortures. Maybe there was an up-side to lurking. Watching the clock, she realised there was little time until her English lit class started. She jumped from her desk and headed for the campus mail room. Her spare five minutes were just enough time to check up on her on-campus mail. Maybe midterm grades would be in the box. Box 253 ... "Excuse me. EXCUSE ME!" The mail-worker looked up from his book quite uninterested in my complaint. "What do'ya want?" "I'd like to know why my mail box is filled with q-tips." "Maybe you ordered them?" "You think I'd order over a thousand q-tips? I don't think so." The mail room attendant was useless. I decided that this was not as funny now that it was happening to me. Class will have to wait, I thought to my self. Driving back to my house, I began to form a plan. "Yes, Mom. My teachers are authorising this trip. Tom (my boss) wants me to work at some other Wendy's as part of my Crew Trainer position. It's all set, I'm leaving now." Without waiting for my mom's response, I jumped into my newish Skylark and hit the highway. Forget the twelve hour drive it should be to Toronto from Connecticut, I plan to be there in time for a late dinner. ### VAQUERA/CLASSIC RAVENETTE by Karen Knight Place: Karen's home "Why haven't I gotten any War posts? How am I supposed to keep up?" Later that evening, karen discovers that someone at Listserv is a Cousin. After a brief struggle, War posts began arriving in Karen's box. "I knew those handcuffs would come in handy!" ### AND THEN YOU DIE (Part 2) by Tara O'Shea Time: 5:20pm EST Place: Toronto Tara stepped off the plane not attired in her typical travelling clothes, ie the infamous green silk suit, but blue jeans, turtleneck and an oversized green sweater. Her red hair was pulled back in a bun, the ensemble topped off by a floppy black velvet hat. It wouldn't really fool anyone, not if they looked hard enough. But anyone looking for her who expected the bright and shiny Tara would probably not pay attention to one more college aged stranger in a crowded airport. At least, she hoped as much. The round trip ticket had arrived as she was dialling Susan, and her suspicions of war had been confirmed. She'd begun packing as she kept the portable between her ear and shoulder, and by the time she had hung up her duffle was full, and her cab was downstairs. The question of "why" had occupied her mind as she'd piled into the cab, hoping Deirdre got back soon to let the dog out, and wouldn't puzzle over her hastily scrawled note too long. By the time she'd changed planes in Buffalo, she still hadn't puzzled it out, but she had confidence that all would be made clear soon. "Where to?" the cabbie outside the baggage claim asked, and she started. For the first time, her answer wouldn't be *the Raven*, and that sent a sudden stab of something equal parts pain and anger into her heart. "What's the nearest $20 a night to downtown?" she asked, tucking her hair behind her ears, and he told her. She grimaced, but with the Boss gone there was no guarentee anyone would be footing her bills on this little escapade, and so she was going to have to play things close. It didn't help that after last war, she hadn't exactly made a friend in LaCroix and his cousins. It was a wonder she had made it home alive. Staying that way, well, that was her job this time around. As the city flashed past the windows, the sky beginning to darken in the east, Tara smiled. Ah, war. As crazy as these things made her, she had been restless recently, and relished the opportunity to do some mischief. ### AND SO IT BEGINS by Gaylin "Jasmine" Walli with opinions and support from The Raven(ette)s Time: Late afternoon Place: Gaylin's office "Call me back. Secure line." Hanging up the phone, I leaned back in my office chair propping my boots up on the desk in front of me. It had begun and I needed to call in a few favours. Impatiently twirling a purple crayola marker in my right hand I waited for the phone to ring. I didn't have to wait long. Before the ringer had a chance to stop, I had slapped the speaker phone button and began. "You owe me big time. I need those favours now," I started without preamble. "Good to hear from you again too. Weather's fine in lovely South America, but it always is, you know. Heard you're getting snow. Eight inches by tonight, they say. Are you going to call and complain about the power being out or are you going to get the hot water heater fixed first?" I chuckled at his annoyance, knowing it wouldn't last for long. He was a good friend. We'd saved our collective butts together a few times. We were compatriots of sorts. Brothers. "Sorry Joe, short notice, but this is critical. And how did you know about the hot water heater? Never mind," I waved a dismissive hand to no one in particular, "rude of me to ask." I paused to run my finger around the edge of my coffee cup. The only gift he had ever given me. On it was emblazoned 'No one messes with you when you're just plain mean.' "I need two favours." "They're yours. One?" "I need you to arrange for me a private flight to Toronto. Immediately. Get me there by the evening of the 2nd." "All right. And two?" I could hear him tapping away on his keyboard already, most likely making arrangements while we talked. I wasn't really sure how to word this one. I mean, how often do you ask a friend to risk his livelihood for you? Ah well, straightforward was probably the best. Honesty among theives, you might say. "The next shipment that goes out of your warehouses for Toronto has to be delayed until after the 17th. And any shipments that might get there through other routes." Dead silence. Damn. Maybe that was too much to ask for. I heard the sharp snap of a cigarette lighter and the draw of breath. Jakartas, if I remembered correctly. I'd managed to suprise him then. Good. "Are you going to tell me why?" An exhale. "Not now. After the 17th." I steepled my hands in front of my face and closed my eyes, waiting for his answer. "All right. But then we're even. I'll send you the details. Don't call me again for a while." The line went dead. He never said goodbye. Didn't believe in it. Me neither. I pressed the speaker phone button once more, then picked up the coffee mug and sighed. The sacrifice would be worth it. They'd never know what hit them. ### THE VENERATED OBJECT Or: A Pair of Jills Appreciate Certain Aspects of Uncle's - Um, Personality by Jill Bradley, Jill Kirby, Sheryl Bottner and Leslie Time: Very late afternoon. Place: The Raven Leslie and Jill were getting really, really tired. After all, one could only listen to Uncle blustering on about how all-freaking-powerful he was, and how he'd them admit they had trashed the Raven, for so long before one got mighty tired of it. They'd had a tiring couple of days. Of course they were terrified - as Natpackers, they had healthy (though not often used) self-preservation instincts. However, exhaustion was taking first place right now. Leslie suppressed a yawn, which LaCroix saw. His eyes glowed gold. "You are ?" "Well, I'm tired. Can you get to the point?" Leslie was past caring. Whatever he was going to do, he should just go ahead and it before she got old and grey. Jill started to giggle. LaCroix turned to her, angry - and mystified. Puny mortals - yet - did not at him. Why, his own faction was often afraid to even look him in the eyes. The Cousins understood their place. He was about to deliver one of his brutal, cutting oratories when Jill cut him off with a wave of her hand. "Oh, stop," she said, managing to control her giggles. However tired you were, it still wasn't a good idea to laugh at an angry, ancient vampire. "If you're going to kill us, or try to mesmerize us, just go right ahead. We're not going to tell you a bloody thing - you should excuse the expression. We're tired and just want to get some sleep. So do your whammys and we'll take it from there." LaCroix looked at Jill and Leslie, mouth agape. These were women who should be cowering at his feet. Instead, one was yawning hugely and the other one was suppressing laughter. This was not what he had expected. He turned away from them, running one hand over his head - and heard Leslie gasp. "Jill!" LaCroix whipped back around to find Jill staring in his direction, a glassy look on her face. She shook her head groggily, seeming to come out of a trance. LaCroix's eyes narrowed. Suddenly, the front door flew open, and in stalked two women. One was a willowy strawberry blonde; the other a pale brunette with a cute haircut. The brunette pointed at LaCroix imperiously. "Let them go, LaCroix," she said, in a tone of voice that could only have come from a mother. Since it had been a few thousand years since LaCroix had seen his mother, he just sneered. "Who are you, and what are you doing here?" He looked at their chic, though impractical, outfits. "Apparently, you're Ravenettes." "Got that right," the blonde said. "I'm Sheryl, and this is Jillby. We're friends of these poor, deluded Natpackers, and have come to take them home." "How did you know they were ?" LaCroix asked silkily, the menace in his voice chilling the air. "We have our sources," Sheryl sneered in return. She tended to ignore menace, and it was really none of his business. Walking over to a bar set up on one side of the room, she gestured at the decanters. "I need a drink. Do you have any gin?" She held up one bottle. "This stuff is crap! Where's the Bombay Sapphire? Janette had better taste in liquor." LaCroix turned, ready to tell this Sheryl person that - Ravenette or no - he was going to have to kill her for her impudence, when he heard Leslie gasp again, and start to laugh. Spinning around, he saw both Jills staring at him glassily. "Oh, God," said Sheryl, exasperated. "Not again." She snapped her fingers. "Snap out of it, chickies." "Snap out of ?" Used to being the master of every situation, LaCroix realized he had no idea what was going on here. And he didn't like it. Sheryl snickered. "Pardon the indelicacy, but... It's your butt." "My ?" "Your tush, your bum, your rear end, Lucien. When these two see your posterior, it's like they're looking at some venerated object. They become completely unable to take their eyes off of it." Sheryl shook her head. "I mean, it's a good tush - but not good." Not since the clamshell scene in War Four's faux episode had LaCroix felt so completely at a loss for words. Unable to resist, he turned his back towards the Jills, watching them over his shoulder. He watched as the Jills turned into staring zombies with bemused grins on their faces. One of Jillby's hands drifted up involuntarily; it almost looked like she was holding an invisible gin and tonic. "Transfixed. Immobile." Leslie rolled her eyes. "Like deer in headlights," added Sheryl. "It's really very sad. Ravenettes are usually so much more... independent." "And Natpackers usually have better taste," Leslie mumbled. Her hand flew to her mouth as LaCroix turned his head and glared at her. "Whoops - sorry..." Sheryl walked over to Leslie, and they regarded the riveted ones sadly. Sheryl took a sip of the drink she'd poured herself. "Apparently, the same thing happens when they catch sight of Duncan MacLeod's tukus," she confided to Leslie. "It's a good thing he isn't in this War, too, or we'd never get them to " As horrified and disgusted as he was, LaCroix was beginning to see the potential in this situation. Yes, there were two mortal women gaping at his backside. It made him feel so cheap. So violated. So He was more than just a sexual object, after all. However, they also represented two of the factions that might be responsible for the torment that had been visited upon him. Granted, his range of motion would be somewhat limited, but he could essentially keep these two in thrall for whatever amount of time was necessary - as long as he kept his back turned. He smiled. They were drawn by the power of his butt. was a power he had never considered. Leslie was watching LaCroix's face. As his eyes began to gleam a horrified feeling swept over her. "Sheryl!" she whispered, then realized that LaCroix could hear her anyway. She raised her voice. "Sheryl, he's going to them this way! Frozen!" "Oh, f**k, oh dear," Sheryl said, growing even more pale than usual. "We have to something!" "What can we do?" Leslie stood, biting her lip, thinking. She grinned. "Got it!" She ran over to Jill, who was still staring vacantly at you-know-what, and began to sing into her ear. "High on a hill stood a lonely goatherd Lei-hode-lei-hode-lei-hee-hoo..." Sheryl understood immediately the drastic measures that had to be taken, and leaned close to Jillby's ear. "Oh Mandy, will you kiss me and stop me from shaking, Cause I need you today, oh Mandy..." LaCroix slapped his hands over his ears. It was a toss-up which was worse - the dreadful music that was being rendered, or the dreadful rendering itself. " this!" he roared. Jill immediately snapped out of her trance, and looked at Leslie in disgust. "Leslie, you're off !" Jillby shook her head. "Shut Sherrreeee," she growled, "and give me a ciggy-butt." The Jills looked at one another. "Oh, God, we were doing it again, weren't we?" said Jill pathetically. "They're going to kick me out of the Natpack for this." "Please," said Jillby. "At least there's some precedent for your mesmerization. Ravenettes are supposed to know better." "Natalie wasn't..." started Jill, then thought better of the statement and clamped her mouth shut. "I think we should get out of here," said Sheryl, tucking the bottle of gin under her arm. It was crappy gin, but it free. "There's a War going on, and I'm sure we all have things to do." Cautiously, LaCroix took his hands off his ears. "I don't think you're going anywhere," he said, beginning to regain his equilibrium. "Yes, we are," said Leslie defiantly. "You can't prove we did We're getting out of here." "You want them to sing again?" asked Jill with a wicked gleam in her eye. "I hear they do a mean rendition of 'Achy Breaky Heart.' " "No!" LaCroix tried to hide his distaste at the thought. "Ladies, look at me." He casually turned his back on the Jills. As one, Leslie and Sheryl each grabbed a Jill and covered her eyes. They backed toward the door, singing at the top of their lungs. The Jills struggled weakly, but in moments they were pulled out the door. The astonished cousins looked at their leader expectantly. He snarled. "Later." ************* "It's just beautiful when the different factions work together, isn't it?" Sheryl asked as they left. "Let's find the two of you some decent clothes, by the way. You look too sensible. You should be showing some skin." "Just promise that neither of you will sing again unless you absolutely have to," grumbled Jill. "It was a magnificent butt," Jillby said mournfully. ### AND THEN YOU DIE (Part 3) by Tara O'Shea Time: Just before sunset Place: The Raven Tara entered the bar cautiously, and took a moment to appreciate the atmosphere. Very chic yet not too trendy, The Revelant wasn't the Raven, but Tara decided it would do. She raised a cigarette to her lips, and fished for her lighter. The look on her face as she inhaled for the first time in two days was sheer heaven. The moment was spoiled by a cough, and she stared at the burning weed ruefully. She chuckled and put it out, leaning against the bar and scanning the crowd. She wore a black cocktail dress, the dangerous neckline demurely pinned shut with a pewter tara broach. Her red hair was loose, and she absently tucked it behind her ears as she sipped from the glass of tonic the bartender placed before her. A slow smile spread across her face as she spotted the unkindness of ravens clustered in one corner of the bar, having commandeered two small tables. You wouldn't think walking in 3 inch heels was easy, but she'd had lots of practice, and manage to navigate her way across the taproom without turning her ankle. "It was a choice between havoc, and fashion. Fashion won, but I lost track of time. Am I late?" "Fashionably," Susan pulled out a chair and began the introductions. Some, like Lorelei and Jasmine, Tara had met in previous wars. Some were new friends. All were ravens, and that was what counted. Susan looked quite pleased with the turn out, and yet there was something more. "You have that look," Tara observed. "What evil thing are we going to do that put such smiles on everyone's faces?" So Catherine and Vicki told her. Tara smiled. It was not a pretty sight. "Oh I'm so glad I came. I'm going to enjoy this." "It gets better," Sheryl said in a conspiratorial tone, and Tara looked up to see a familiar face. Her smile widened. "Oh, my, it certainly does," she breathed, and raised her glass. "To revenge." ### N&NPACKER AND N&NPACK MASCOT LEAVE FOR TORONTO by Mary Margaret Lowe Time: After work Place: Mary Margaret's home Mary Margaret got home from work on Thursday tired as usual - it had been a long day at the Library. She opened the back door to find her dog, Worf, prancing around like a mad thing. "What is it girl, what's wrong?" Mary Margaret opened her front door to find --- a heart with an arrow stuck through it! "That's it, Worf, this must mean War! I'm going to Toronto to join the N&Ns - and you're coming with me !" Worf was "in charge of security" on the home front - she could do the same thing for the N&Ns. Mary Margaret planned to leave right after work on Friday for the long drive to Toronto. She called Erika, "We'll be there Saturday morning. I'll call you when we get in." As she was driving, Mary Margaret thought how good it was to have a dog along as a companion and guard. Halfway to Toronto, a new and horrible thought occurred to her: "What if that vampire dog, Perry, tries to bring my dog across ?!" Sounds like a Cousin-ly plot is brewing to vamp our pets, too! Would Worf lose her heart to Perry, like Nat had lost her heart to Nick? Sta-aay tuned, friends! ### CASINO ROYALE by Brian-Glenn Anderson Time: Dusk Place: Toronto There are advantages to being unknown, and there are advantages to popping up in the middle of something you don't completely understand. Brian chuckled as he flipped off the TV and searched for his shoes; it was kind of lonely since his friends had taken a day flight back to Pittsburgh, but he had been finding ways to divert his attention. //Okay, let me get this straight// he thought to himself, //Candi...who I know from school...is someone's cousin. Then there are Raisinettes...or something// He pulled out one of the copies of the notices that he had posted around the city today, laughing. It was mainly something to amuse him, like the Spanish Channel. Of course it was true: the main problem had been rounding up four performing arts majors and dragging them to Toronto. Lucky that a few of them had cars. It had also been a major undertaking to get them to do what he wanted in the first place: few people would risk such humiliation. He just hoped that Candi wouldn't be _too_ angry with him. She had promised a ride back to Alfred. The paper he had been reading, whose clone had been posted outside The Raven, fell back to the bed. ********************************************************** LOST: five young women, brunette, all answering to name "Cousin Candice." WARNING: only one of these people is the actual person. Others are impersonators that may be considered dangerous, though all shall act in similar manners. ********************************************************* He went through the reports on what had happened to Candi 2.1, and Candi 3.6. Where Candi 0.7 and Candi 6.7 were was anybody's guess. He picked up the phone and called where he thought Candi 1.0, the Original, would be. No answer. //I'm sure that she knows where she is, wherever that might be...// Brian put on my shoes and straightened his habitual leather jacket over the turtleneck. He headed off to the Raven, humming "The Candyman Can." ### ONE BRICK SHY... by Janice Cox Time: Sundown Place: Fresno, California Cousin Janice grumbled softly as she dragged her heavy backpack into the Fresno State University cafeteria. It was the end of the day, the sun was going down, and it was time to plan her escape. War had been declared, and not even the grave social handicap of living in Fresno, California, was going to keep her away. Leaving her black leather backpack on the table, she ordered dinner (Roast beef, rare. And, can you kinda pour some of those drippings over it? A lot? Great.) and returned to her table. "Great. Now, what excuse to use? I've already done the jury duty excuse, the Attack of the PMS Monster, and hmm... Guess I'd better check my schedule." Unzipping her backpack, Cousin Janice gasped (Cousins *never* squeek. We leave that to the Ratpackers) in surprise as hundred of cotton swabs exploded in every direction. For a moment the cafeteria was silent save for the patter patter of white bits of cotton hitting tables, floor, and students. When at last the final Q-Tip (all rights reserved) fell to earth, Cousin Janice bore a striking resemblance to Mt St Helens--covered in white, and red at the top. "Aaaauuugghhhhh!!! Curse you, Nat-Packers!" Cousin Janice shouted at the ceiling. "Of course you're threatened by us! WE know the secret! Natalie belongs with Uncle, AND SHE KNOWS IT, TOO!! We..." She paused as several students began slipping away through emergency exits, and campus security arrived. "Umm, really, everything's fine. What lovely handcuffs. Do you use the recreationally? Oh." "Hey, wait! I'm a Cousin! There's a war to fight! Wait! Wait!" The plaintive sounds of a Cousin bound echoed through the Fresno State cafeteria as she was dragged off into the night. No one noticed the bulky blue box sticking out of one guard's pocket until it fell to the floor as he swaggered out with his prisoner. It was an empty box of Q-Tips. ### CALLING ALL VAQUEROS Time: 6:20 p.m. CST Place: Shreveport Symphony Offices, Strand Theatre, Shreveport, Louisiana Jana Hege, Orchestra Librarian extraordinaire, sat staring at her computer monitor. Forced to work on an archaic 286 with no Windows and definitely no modem (ah, the joys of working for a non-profit organization), she had transferred all her e-mail onto a disk and brought it to work with her. There was no other way to keep up with it all. Especially now that the War had started. The tape player next to her desk stopped and she flipped the tape over, hitting play. The melodious voices of Rockapella filled the small office. She thought again how nice it was to be alone on the third floor of the building when all the other Symphony offices were upstairs on the fourth. No one else to hear the stereo. No one else to notice she was reading e-mail when she should have been working. But the people upstairs wouldn't have understood. This was FK, and a war was on. So what if a few musicians didn't get their music today? She was about to open the first WAR file when her intercom beeped. She quickly turned off the tape player and picked up the phone. "Call for you on Line 4," the proper British accent of the receptionist informed her. Probably her boss calling from Germany to check up on her. She sighed and hit the flashing button on the phone. "Hi, this is Jana," she said. "Sorry to bother you at work, but this is important," an unfamiliar female voice said. "That's okay. Who is this?" "It's me. Urs. In Toronto." "Oh. Oh! What's up? I mean, why are you calling me?" The voice on the other end of the phone sounded a little rattled. "I thought you'd want to help. Something's up." Jana sighed. "Well, of course. There's a war on. I don't see what that has to do with me." "I figured you'd want to help Javier. He's too proud to ask you himself. He'd kill me if he knew I was calling you." She sat bolt upright in her annoyingly uncomfortable chair. "What did they do to him?" Urs was silent for a second. "Umm, you'd really have to *see* it to understand. Nothing really harmful. I guess it was more of a warning, really. And nothing as bad as what they did to *me*." "What?" "Let's just say there were bellbottoms involved." "Oh, no. This is even nastier than I expected. Do you think it was the Cousins?" "It could have been anyone. Listmembers have been converging on Toronto for days. I've seen some of them around the Raven." "So what do I need to do?" "It's up to you, of course, but I really think you should come up here." Jana frowned. "Gee, I don't know. I just took a day off last week. And next week I'm going to Tupelo for a Rockapella concert. Why they're going to Tupelo I'll never --" Urs cut her off. "Do you want to help Javier or not?" "Sure I do, but --" "I'll see you when you get here." There was a click and the line went dead. Jana frowned and hung up. Almost immediately, the intercom beeped again. She picked it up. "Yeah?" "There's a package up here for you." "Thanks." She shut the door of her tiny office and headed up the flight of stairs to the receptionist's desk. The small package sat on the corner. A neatly printed label read simply, "Jana Hege, Shreveport Symphony, Shreveport, LA." She picked it up, searching for a return address. She flipped it over and from somewhere inside came the distinct sound of a "moo." The receptionist looked up at the sound, a puzzled expression on her face. Jana shrugged. "I'm, um, going to be out for a while. If anybody calls, just give them my cellular number." Without waiting for the inevitable questions, she turned and left the office, walking slowly back down the stairs. Why did they contact her at work? Was it a clue? Was there something in her infinitessimally small workspace that she should bring along? She unlocked her office and glanced around. The score for Tchaikovsky's 5th Symphony lay on her desk. That ought to at least stun someone nicely, she thought, hefting the thing into her briefcase. And that picture of her boss conducting with that goofy look on his face would be enough to send anyone into uncontrollable fits of laughter, a good distraction. What else? Her eyes fell on a container full of freshly sharpened pencils, used for marking string music. Nice, sharp, *wooden* pencils. She grabbed a handful. Anything else? She'd have to stop by home and get her coat. Toronto could be cold this time of year. She was about to lock the office again when she remembered the Rockapella tape in the stereo. She couldn't drive 30+ hours straight without that. She grabbed it, flipped the light switch and left. Once home, she quickly grabbed her heavy down coat out of the closet. It was more than a little dusty, not having been used since she arrived in Louisiana two years earlier. As she tossed it in the back of her Civic Wagon, it occurred to her that the coat could be a useful piece of gear, also; it had ten very large pockets that could conceal just about anything. Finally, she scribbled a quick note to her husband, Joe. "J.V. needs help. Going to Toronto. Don't worry. Love you! P.S. - Taking the dogs along." She loaded the two black-and- white border collies, Dobie and Zelda, into the car, tossed in a rapidly packed duffle bag and a container of dog food, and got behind the wheel. "Hang on, pups," she said as she backed out of the driveway. "This is gonna be one wild ride." On the stereo, Rockapella sang: - Time was time was taken just day by day by day - Summer sun was all we'd need. - Now the sunshine shines and you run the other way, - So in love with all your speed. - Have a little faith, have faith, faith in me...* She tapped the steering wheel in time to the music. "Yeah, Javier," she thought, "just have some faith in me." *Lyrics by Scott Leonard ### TIME TO FIND SOME ANSWERS by Torrey Harris Time: 6:30pm Place: Toronto Vachon had just left the Raven after talking to Urs. He had gone there to find out if she knew *why* someone would take it upon them self to re-decorate his Church with cows. He didn't get much in the line of a answer from her...she was busy grumbling about her closet or something. He did have to admit that the dress she was wearing was a little silly. He never realized that she had a *thing* for purple dinosaurs. Urs said something about a war and factions, but Vachon did'nt pay much attention to her. After leaving the Raven he went back to the Church to try and clean it up a little, but just managed to move things around a bit before he decided that he had to find out what was going on here. Looking out the window he judged that dawn was still far enough away to make it to Nicks loft before he fried. "Nick should know what is going on here," Vachon said to himself With that Vachon headed out the door and looked around the alley to make suer that no one was watching. ### THUNDER & LIGHTNING. ENTER THREE WITCHES. (Part 3) by Maureen Wynn Time: Evening Place: The Raven, Toronto Maureen walked into the Raven, yawned, and looked around, hoping to see a Cousin or two that she knew. Talking to people over the internet had it's down-side - you never knew what people looked like in real-life. She took a second look at the club itself. she mused. Not seeing anyone she knew, she yawned again, and continued over to the bar, where several people were clustered. Tapping a tall brunette (who looked an awful lot like Rosie O'Donnell) on the shoulder, she said, "Hi, there - do the words 'Cousin Deborah' mean anything to you?" The brunette looked startled, then amused. "They should - enough people say them to me on a regular basis! Let's see," she said, looking over the newcomer, "Red hair, black raincoat, a noticible lack of scruples... you must be Cousin Maureen!" The two women smiled at each other, then hugged. "Nice to finally meet you!" Maureen said, then yawned. "I'm glad you're so thrilled," Deborah said, amused that Maureen seemed to be having trouble staying awake. "Sorry! I didn't get any sleep last night..." Maureen said, as another yawn interrupted her words. "...and I really need to crash soon. I just wanted to stop by and check in. I gather I missed some kind of meeting?" she asked. "Yeah, we had a War Council with all the Cousins." The rubenesque cousin looked at her watch. "I'm on my way out, but let me tell you what's going on..." Deborah continued, and spent several minutes filling the late Cousin (no, I mean the Cousin who was late, no, I mean the tardy Cousin... oh, you know what I mean!) in on events. "...and that's where we stand now. Most of the Cousins are already out and about. So," Deborah said enthusiastically, "Are you ready to start?" Maureen groaned, then yawned again. "All I'm ready to do is collapse! If I don't get some sleep soon, I'm likely to do something I'll regret. You don't *know* what sleep-deprivation does to me." She shuddered (just to keep in practice), and got up from the chair she'd been slumped in, and pulled her raincoat around her, preparing to leave. "I'll talk to you in the morning..." she started to say, before she was interrupted by someone coming up beside her and taking her arm. Startled, she looked at the stranger who had her arm in a vise-like grip. She looked down at the hand that held her arm, then back up at the strange man's face, and said, very quietly and calmly, "You will let go of me, now." "LaCroix wants to see you," he said, not budging an inch, and not releasing her arm. Still watching his face, she said, "I've asked you once. I won't ask again." He stared back at her, impassive. He started to tug at her arm, to drag her away, and then looked startled, as he found himself whirling around her as she shifted her weight. He let go of her arm as the centrifugal force swept him off his feet, sending him flying through the air, to land with a "thud!" on the floor by the bar. Totally astonished, he looked up at the small woman standing above him. He looked at the other cousins standing around, who were all staring at the sudden scene, hoping for some support. When he didn't get any, he stammered, "Um, I, uh, well, LaCroix wanted to see you right away..." "Then I'll go see him," she replied, still calm. "But I won't be dragged!" she added, the anger suddenly blazing out of her eyes. She turned on her heel, and stalked to the offices at the back of the Raven. Seeing the door to the radio studio, she pulled it open and walked in. LaCroix looked up at her, and said, mildly enough, "You have heard of knocking, have you not?" "When you try to have me dragged before you, you really shouldn't stand on ceremony," she retorted, dropping into the chair next to his desk. He raised one eyebrow at her casual manner, and said, "Please, have a seat." "Thanks, I already have," she said, grinning affectionately at her favorite "Uncle," disregarding the increasingly annoyed glare he directed at her. "By the way, I forgot to thank you for your help last night. That mind-wipe thing comes in pretty handy from time to time." She grinned again, thinking about the shenanigans that had resulted in her losing a night's sleep. The heat of his glare increased exponentially, as he said, "It is *not* a "mind-wipe", as you so charmingly term it. I am *not* some science-fiction gadget, here for your convenience. If it hadn't been necessary to keep the incident quiet, I would *not* have indulged you." He regarded her coldly for a moment, before adding, "And remember - I do not guarantee that the effects will last forever." The Cousin/Mercenary sat up straight at these words. "Wait a dog-gone minute! You didn't say anything like that last night! What do you mean, the effects won't last?" LaCroix smiled, pleased at having once again regained the upper hand in the conversation. he mused. "For one thing, the... "subject" had been drugged prior to my efforts..." "But she'd already come out from under the drug!" argued Maureen. LaCroix glared at the impertinent snip who had dared to interrupt him, and continued, "...and hypnosis is never guaranteed to last, especially during times of great stress." He leaned back in his leather seat, and picked up the wine glass that stood on the desk. "Personally, I can't think of anything *more* stressful in your little lives than a War. Can you?" And, smiling at his wayward 'child', who was starting to look much less sure of herself, he took a drink of the not-wine in the glass. "And if she starts to remember the events of last night," he murmured quietly, "What will you do then?" The Mercenary/Cousin stared at him, trying desperately to get her sleep-deprived noggin to function, but the only thing that immediately sprang to mind was, "Oh, my prophetic soul! Mine Uncle?" She was starting to realize that she may have made a mistake... ### THE CLUELESS LEADING THE CLUELESS by Jamie M.R. -- The Illustrated Cousin Time: Before 7pm "Where are we, erica?" "i don't know, Bonka." They moved down the Toronto side street, every so often casting uneasy glances at the overcast sky, dragging their luggage behind them: a pair of young women who might have been twins, except for the fact that one was a teenage bombshell and the other was wonderfully nondescript. "You said you knew where the Raven was, erica." "i thought i did, Bonka." "You said you'd remember where we parked the rental car, erica," and her sister shot her a look that made Bianca decide to keep her thoughts to herself. "i never have the right kind of luck," erica said finally, morosely. "Well, thanks for sharing your luck with me," Bianca responded. "Now we're late *and* lost." "Yeah, but at least we're *here*," and erica glanced around herself with a look of satisfaction. "Yeah. But just where exactly is here?" Bianca's quick scan of their surroundings revealed her nervousness. "Well, i don't exactly know, but," erica pointed at a figure in the far distance, "i bet i know who that is!" Her little sister looked, nodded. "Who else could it be?" Energized by their discovery, they raced down the street toward the person who, sensing their approach suddenly, whirled around quickly to face them; she raised her heavy wooden walking stick and wielded it like a club, her expression promising a slow and painful death to any who dared assault her. erica and Bianca screeched to a halt just outside of her range. "Jamie? You're Cousin Jamie, you have to be, i mean, everyone knows who you are, right? i mean, with the 'illustrated' part and all, and the photos from Crescent City..." "erica," Bianca said, "you're doing that no-breathing thing again." "Ah," said Jamie, and lowered her staff. "I should have known. That's amazing; I've never met anyone who could talk in a lower-case 'i' before." "Do you know where the Raven is?" Bianca queried. Jamie shook her head, sending braids strung with golden beads flying. "Haven't a clue. But then, what else is new? When did you get into town?" "i don't know," said erica. "The lists have been held for hours; I have no idea what's going on." "Me neither. I guess we'll leave this story nebulous, so that whoever's compiling the War can fit it in later." Jamie cocked her head sideways, listening. "What was that?" "What?" said Bianca, puzzled. "Nothing. Just sounded like reality and fiction colliding with a horrible thud. Oh, well. If none of us know where the Raven is... what do you think we ought to do?" "We could go to the old CERK station," erica said eagerly. "i know where that is." "We could," Jamie confirmed. "Or we could do something far more sensible..." Twenty minutes later, they were sitting outdoors at a table at the same Second Cup coffeeshop on Yonge Street where Jamie had obtained the photo of Janette from Tracy earlier. Jamie had a super-jumbo cappuccino in front of her, liberally dosed with raw brown sugar and sprinkled with cinnamon, and erica and Bianca had herbal tea, and they snacked on danishes with all the gusto of a bunch of FoDs on a feeding frenzy. "But why couldn't we have gone to one of the twelve Second Cup stores that we passed already?" Bianca asked. "Because I like *this* one," Jamie explained, and sipped her cappuccino through a straw. "Thanks for the White-Out, Bonka." "I *knew* it would come in handy," said Bianca smugly, while erica glared at her. "So what are we going to do next?" erica asked. "B and i could be your little initiates into the wild and crazy world of Cousinly revenge or something. We could be your back-up, groupies, whatever you need." Jamie's eyes widened. "You want *me* to be in charge? Are you insane? That'd be like the blind leading the blind, or actually, more like the clueless leading the clueless... hmmm. Clueless renegade Cousins-at-large; what could be better? And three of us together, we could get into soooo much more trouble that way..." She considered for only a moment. "Okay. So... whadda we got to work with, eh?" "Uh, lessee," erica said, frowning. "Our resources are credit cards, laptop, Dad with serious electronic expertise, Muppets, the L.A. Jazz Choir, and a lot of trivial knowledge. Will that help?" "Muppets? Did you say *Muppets*? As in Sesame Street?" Jamie's eyes widened even further, until she was in severe danger of joining the Guppy Set; she began laughing, and couldn't seem to stop. "Oh, oh no, oh *no.....* I promised myself I wouldn't. I promised..." "What?" erica and Bianca both asked at once. "No. I won't. I *can't*. And besides, I'm not sure it hasn't already been done. Damn, I knew I should've finished my required reading!" Jamie sighed. "What I need is a neutral consultant who's intimately familiar with all four previous wars. I wonder if one will come to me out of the ozone?" she mused hopefully. "Well, let us in on the *secret* when you get around to it, okay?" erica muttered. Jamie nodded. "In the meantime, I figured, since everyone else was coming up with all sorts of interesting pranks and weapons, I'd do this," she said, reaching into her everpresent backpack and rummaging about. "I dragged out my soldering kit and my jewelry-making stuff, and all the crap I tinker around with when I get bored, and I made myself a weapon..." It seemed to have been fabricated from Legos and multicolored telephone wire. "That's, um, nice," erica said politely, doubting the wisdom of teaming up with the Illustrated Cousin. "Looks pretty silly, doesn't it?" Jamie agreed, with a friendly smile, and raised the weapon, pointed it at the wall of the building across the alley from their cozy seats. She squeezed the trigger, and there was a sound like "phthweet!", and something whizzed across the alley and neatly crumbled a foot-wide circle of brickwork into dust. erica and Bianca stared, disbelief transforming itself into new respect. "It's multi-purpose," Cousin Jamie explained. "It shoots Q-tips *and* toothpicks." "But i thought there was a rule against inflicting permanent damage..." "Oh, it only inflicts permanent damage on inanimate objects. People, it only maims." "I want one!" Bianca declared. "There is only one, and it's *mine*," Jamie demurred, sliding the gun into the pocket of her oversized hooded sweatjacket. "And there's another problem, too." "What's that?" "My vision is lousy, and my aim sucks. So it's not exactly a foolproof method of attack *or* defense. Oh, yeah, and one other thing." "Do i want to know?" erica wondered. "Probably not. See, in order to make this thing work, I had to hook it into my own personal spatial discontinuity of random luck -- so things could get very weird at any time." Jamie shrugged. "It's a chance you've gotta take, when you hang around with me." erica and Bianca exchanged doubtful looks, but they'd already 'signed a deal with the devil', metaphorically speaking, and it was too late to change their minds. Besides, Jamie had paid for their tea and danish, and it wouldn't have been polite to back out now... "So," Jamie said expectantly. "erica, Bianca: what do you think we ought to do next?" ### COUSINS UNBOUND by e.m. hall Time: 7 pm EST Place: Toronto "What we should do next is find some place to crash," erica said, still seated with Cousins Bianca and Jamie at one of many suitable Second Cups in Toronto, the city of duplicate backdrops, actors, scripts... "Well, I'm staying at..." Jamie began to offer until erica cut her off rather rudely. Seems she was in a hurry to get the story up and out of her mailer. "No, i meant somewhere to dump all our stuff and set-up shop 'cause, i don't know about you, Jamie, but Burp and i have been less than thrilled with the season so far and the way LaCroix has been depicted, in particular. Yes, we're Cousins but i, for one, will not to blindly follow any character who'd probably be more comfortable selling used cars than tormenting Nick and ruling the world!" she spat. Bianca patted her sister's hand reassuringly, shaking her own head with bafflement. "Hey, I completely sympathize," the notoriously willful Cousin said (who, herself, was never the one to do what was expected, what was required, or even what was sane unless it suited her). Bianca piped in (seeing as how erica was on the verge of tears - something that *never* happened. The world was definitely out of order tonight). "You see, we came here, fully intending to join in the fray and answer the call but then we re-watched "Hearts of Darkness" in the plane (in first class. We brought the tape. The airline supplied the VCR. Life with a credit card is good.) and erica and I were suddenly reminded of this, this *oddity* running The Raven..." "The Playpen, we started calling it. Like it was the club in Madonna's Bedtime Stories or something," erica pitifully sniffled into her tea, reminded of the horrid MTV program she was forced to watch while trying to keep awake enough to type out this latest War segment in the wee, lonely hours the previous night. "How could Uncle let this happen?" Bianca continued, putting aside the latest (fifth) danish she'd been working on (skinny girl, eats like a horse...). "And if he discovered what TPTB had done the same time we did, why hasn't he *done* something about it?! This is a travesty! And we decided to be no part of it. How do even know this is the real LaCroix? To mention a fictional thread of yours." She nodded to the cousin sitting patiently across from her. "Be my guest," Jamie graciously waved a finger towards her, urging her to continue (and get this post finished up because erica really really needed to get to bed soon. Can't sleep... Must type...) "So what I think we're going to do..." Bianca ventured. "What we were thinking of doing..." erica tried. "You want to go AWOL, renegade, outlaw, the way of the liberated Cousin," Jamie finished. "Yeah," said Bianca. "Yeah," said erica. "You're in luck," said Jamie, ignoring erica's cringe at that last word (and nervous glance above for falling pianos). "I just so happen to feel a bit of a wayward itch myself." She looked at erica. "You know where CERK is don't you?" erica nodded eagerly. "*That* address i do know. Required memorization for a Cousin." "Oh, that's my favourite next to the recitation of the entire AMPH script!" Bianca could barely sit still in her excitement. "Uh huh." Jamie could see that she had hours of deprogramming before her. "The old station would be the ideal place for a secret Cousin hideout. Let's go!" She dropped a few bills for the garcon and the three dashed off. + + + "Oh, no. Look at them - they're like ants swarming!" Nearly twenty or so Cousins milled in and about the building formerly know as CERK Central, now the newly converted Cousin Central. "But I thought they were based at The Raven..." "Well, they've apparently had some serious change of plans. I wouldn't be surprised if the Cousins were forced out by another faction - probably Raven/ette. Can you imagine Uncle relocating here by choice?" Jamie pointed at the flustered, grumpy groups of Cousins, hauling out old, useless bits of furniture and trash and carrying in computers, telephones, hostages... Many of the Cousins were covered in dust, and a few were desperately trying to knock cobwebs off themselves. They were not a happy bunch. "Well, CERK is out. Where do we go now?" Bianca asked. "We could try Nick and Schanke's old division," erica suggested. "It was gutted in Black Buddah, right?" "Maybe. I don't think anyone ever checked to make sure." Jamie replied. "What about the observatory? We could really use that telescope when it's time to spy on all the other factions." "Oo - how about Nick's warehouse! His loft doesn't take the *whole* building up - you can tell. Wouldn't that be ironic? We'd be right under the Knighties noses! And talk about keeping tabs on factions..." Bianca mused. "Not to mention keeping your friends close but your enemies closer," erica admired. "But what i think has the best potential, mes amies, is that one soundstage the FK crew hasn't been using quite so much anymore. You know, that one with the cross-patterned staircase that kept getting used over and over second season? [author's note: insert obligatory nostalgic sniffle here] Not only would we be near all the action, but we'd also have all those props at our disposal." "Yeah," Jamie returned in a dangerously inspired voice. "And access to the Toronto offices of the show..." "You mean you can...?" "Um hm." Jamie grinned. "You ever cease to amaze us, Cousin," the two others awed. "Just for that," erica said, "why don't you take some time for yourself. We know what we're doing now. We'll go transport all the stuff there, get it set-up and all. It'll take a while, anyway." "Okay, that'd be good. I have something I wanted to do anyway," Jamie agreed. "So we're set then. Here're directions to the studio lot plus ways of getting in unnoticed - i have family in show biz everywhere." And here she shouted out of the computer to everybody, especially those with raised eyebrows and "Yeah, right..." on their lips. "Honestly!" erica scribbled something out quickly and passed the note to Jamie. "Right. I'll be in touch." And with that, Cousin Jamie sped off into the night. "Come on, err," Bianca adopted a mature tone, readying for the grand organizational, technical, and improvisational task before the two Hall girls. "We've got work to do." And they two slugged off into the night - not sped as Jamie had managed - because it seems that they never did find that rental car and, thus, still had all that luggage dragging behind them. ### SAFE AT HOME? by Diane Echelbarger Time: 7pm EST Diane paid off the taxi driver an scuttled up the steps to the B&B. Once inside, she took a deep breath and allowed herself to relax a little. She was chilled to the bone, the result of a long afternoon riding ferries, busses and trolleys, ducking in and out of buildings, and generally trying to lose the people she was now *convinced* were following her. She *had* lost them, in the end, but it had taken a last-minute dash from a streetcar and *three* taxi changes to do it. she thought as she dragged her weary, footsore self up the two flights of stairs to the suite. A small, nasty part of her mind tried to point out that she was really no safer here than anywhere else in Toronto, but she squashed it firmly. She *had* to believe she was safe somewhere, or she'd give up. And she couldn't give up, not with the end so very close... she reminded herself, and patted the camera bag at her side. She pushed open the door and stumbled into the sitting room. It was empty, and there was no sign of Lorelei in their bedroom when she dumped her outerwear and purse on the bed. Even now, she didn't dare let the camera bag out of her grasp. She carried it back with her to the sitting room and collapsed in an armchair. Her stomach rumbled, reminding her that it was *well* past her usual dinner hour. She hadn't eaten since that horrible 'accidental' lunch meeting with Cousin Deborah. Lots and lots of coffee, but no food... There were a stack of take-out menus on the table at her elbow, next to the phone, and she flipped through them without much real enthusiasm. The idea of leaving to get food had zero appeal right now, no matter how hungry she was. And how could she be sure, if she ordered anything delivered, that the Cousins wouldn't have it tampered with, somehow? The third flyer in the stack seemed like the answer to a prayer she hadn't had the energy to make. "The Happy Souvlaki Deli" it announced in cheery type. "We deliver!" The Happy Souvlaki? Wasn't that the place Pam Rush owned? Surely, a *FoD* wouldn't let her food be tampered with? It should be safe to order from a restaurant run by a FoD.... Diane picked up the phone and dialed the number before that nasty little inner voice could come up with a reason why she shouldn't. She'd eat, then soak out the bone-deep cold in that claw-foot tub that took up half of the bathroom, and go to bed early. She was so tired.... "Happy Souvlaki Deli." "I'd like to place an order..." An hour and a half later, having eaten, thawed out, and restored herself with four Chocolate Caper dark-chocolate-almond pralines, Diane was asleep. ### WEASEL ATTACK by Vicki Merriman Time: Just after sunset Place: The Raven A whispered consultation - "Are you sure he's there?" "He has to be. It wasn't sunset when we arrived and he hasn't had a chance to go anywhere." Knock, knock, knock "We're closed." knock, knock, knock "Open up. This is the Sheriff. I have an Order." "Order?" Cousin Craig abandoned the door and went to seek advice. After some muttering and consultation, the door was opened. Cousin Deborah looked out. She saw the Sheriff flanked by a dark haired woman wearing a grey double breasted suit and a tall blonde woman dress in a navy suit. Cousin Deborah recognized some known Ravenettes in a small crowd that stood behind them. The Sheriff held a piece of paper in his hand. "What is going on here?" "Whatever one of __them__ told you is undoubtedly a lie." Cousin Julie eyed both the Sheriff and the women narrowly and then glared in the direction of the Ravenettes. "You have no reason to arrest us. Nothing illegal has been. . ." "Julie, please!" Deborah responded with an attempt to look pleasantly at the Sheriff, "let's find out what is going on first" "Well", said the Sheriff, eyeing Julie back just as narrowly, "you're right. I haven't come to arrest anyone. Is there a reason I should?" He looked at her questioningly? "No, of course not. So just what is this all about?" "May we come in and explain it to you?" the woman in the grey business suit asked politely. There were several cousins all crowding about the door at this point. Jennise smiled an odd smile and asked "do you freely come in to our house? You might regret it." The other Cousins just look a little disgusted at that comment. Nevertheless, they stepped back to allow the Sheriff and the women to enter. "No. They can't come in." Deborah stopped the Ravenettes, who were following the first three through the door. "Why? Do you think they could damage the place?" Vicki looked around pointedly. Deborah, Candice and Jennise held a short whispered consultation. "There are enough of us to keep an eye on them. Surely they won't try anything physical with the Sheriff here." "Good point. They are here for some other purpose." Candice spoke up, "Alright. They may come in." She opened the door widely and then stared as at least ten people strolled in. she thought. They were all well dressed, as Ravenettes would be, wearing black and burgundy outfits in the latest styles. MJ was more casually dressed than the women, wearing black slacks and a burgundy hand knit sweater. To a person, they wore the same expectant little grin. "MIKLOS!" several voices cried in astonishment as he came through the door. "What are you doing here?" Jennise asked. "And in the company of Ravenettes." She was torn, being pleased to see him, but in such company... Miklos just smiled, not quite showing his teeth, but nonetheless getting the point across. The Sheriff turned back to Deborah. "Is the Owner here? Mr. Lucien LaCroix?" "He is here but he isn't available right now. What can we do for you?" "I am Catherine Sieman, and this is Vicki Merriman," The woman in navy introduced her dark haired companion. We are here on behalf of the Toronto law firm of Johnstone and Ravine. LaCroix is in breach of the Sales Contract he signed with Janette DuCharme. We have a Order authorizing the Sheriff to remove LaCroix from the premises and put Janette back in possession of the Raven." The Cousins were stunned, the Ravenettes just grinned, and the Sheriff and the lawyers waited for the explosion. Cousin Candice was the first to find her voice. "You... you... WEASEL!" She shrieked at the top of her lungs. "Do you know her?" Cousin Julie asked. "I've not met her, but I've heard of her. I thought you were only a student?" "How can they do anything in Canada anyway if they are from the States? Even I know that lawyers have to be registered or something." Cousin Zillah wondered. "Vicki is a third law student from Indiana University, and I'm a lawyer from the States." Catherine explained. "However, her sister is Debbi Johnstone, of Johnstone and Ravine, who is an attorney licensed to practice here in Toronto. She is the one who officially filled out the paperwork. Vicki and I did the research." "CANDICE!" Cousin Candice thought. "That shout was loud enough to wake..." LaCroix came to a stop in the doorway to the main bar as he surveyed the situation. He eyed Miklos. "What are you doing here? And in __their__ company." LaCroix indicated the Ravenettes and the Sheriff. "What is HE doing here?" LaCroix looked to one of the Cousins for an explanation. No one seemed to want to volunteer. "In fact, what are any of you doing here. Why aren't you out doing your jobs." He stared at the Cousins. "But Uncle, you sent us messages to the effect that there was another meeting here at sunset. We were all supposed to gather here. They were sent via Lurker Fed Ex." Cousin Laura looked slightly appologetic. "Uh, you __didn't__ send us the messages, did you?" LaCroix just stared, and Cousin Laura tried to look invisible. The woman in silver grey stepped forward and took a deep breath. "I'm Vicki Merriman, and this is my associate Catherine Sieman. You are in breach of the sales contract between you and Janette DuCharme. Under the conditions of the contract, Janette has the right to repossess the Raven. We have a court order authorizing the sheriff to eject you and put Ms. DuCharme in possession. We also have a TRO, that's a temporary restraining order, preventing you or an agent of yours," She paused and glanced at the Cousins, "from entering the Raven." LaCroix just glared, growled and then his eyes started to turn yellow before he brought himself back under control. The Sheriff started to hand LaCroix a set of papers from his hand, but pulled back when he got a glimpse of the expression on his face. "What sales contract? Janette and I needed no contract to transfer the Raven." "Actually you did." Jill spoke up bravely, bringing LaCroix' attention to her. "You and Janette might not have needed a piece of paper, but the Canadian" She glanced at the Sheriff and lowered her voice, "_mortal_ legal system required it. Taxes, liquor license, etc. etc." LaCroix snatched the sheaf of papers from the Sheriff's hand and started glancing through them. "You will find a copy of the Contract attached to the back of the Motion for Ejectment." Vicki pointed out helpfully. "Allow me to show you paragraph 24 of the contract. It states that the contract was voidable by Janette (as Seller) for breach of the following conditions: a) activites degrading and denigrating to women, including, but not limited to, strip shows, offensive music, inappropriate cocktail server costumes and any and all public statements by the Owner that are denigrating to women; b) for a period of 2 years dating from the signing of this instrument, Buyer is barred from making substantive changes to the decor of the property, including, but not limited to changing the name of the property and changing the external or internal decor; or c) failure to maintain the Raven properly" "Notice the "or" at the end of the (b)? The contract was voidable for a breach of any one of those conditions. You have breached at least two, the condition regarding the denigration of women and the condition regarding changing the decor of the property. Ms. DuCharme has opted to void the contract. Vicki tried to point out the Motion signed by Janette's Canadian attorney. "I can fight this in Court. I know a little about rights." "Certainly you can. In fact, you may notice that the Order giving Janette possession of the Raven clearly states that a hearing date has been set for December 17, 1995 at 11 a.m. You may contest it then, although I must say that the four corners of the contract clearly indicate you are in breach." "But that will be after the end of the war." Cousin Candice spoke up. Ravenette Jasamine smiled angelically. "Gee, that will be too bad." "The contract is clear on its face, so there is little to fight about, but everyone gets their day in Court." Catherine said. LaCroix glared at Catherine. "We will keep possession of the Raven until after this 'Court date'." "No, actually, you won't. That is what Vicki and I spent yesterday researching at the law library. Paragraph 25 of the contract is enforcable." 25. In the event that Seller opts to void the contract due to a breach under paragraph 24, then Seller shall have the right to eject Buyer without prior notice, either written or oral, and to take immediate repossession of the premises. 26. In the event that Seller voids the contract due to Buyer's breach, all additions, changes and improvements, whether fixtures or not, shall adhere to the premises and become the property of the Seller. "NEVER! Janette did this to me. I signed this nonsense without even reading it. It is nothing to me." "Oh, but it is." Susan spoke up again. "Janette felt very strongly that the Raven she had built into a fine bar and going concern should never be used for the denigration of women. The money was trivial to her. Didn't you ever wonder why she was willing to sell it to you for a song?" LaCroix looked grim. "I'll bet you thought she was just being her old self. You wanted the bar. She gave it to you. However, Janette matured into a fine business woman while you weren't noticing. She knew _exactly_ what she was doing." All the Ravenettes looked on smugly, pleased with their leader's business sense. "How dare she do this to me. I never read this nonsense." "Well, that may be, LaCroix," Catherine pointed out. "However, we double checked and you were given the contract several days before you signed it. You had plenty of time to read it yourself and to seek legal advice." "Legal Advice? I have my own way of dealing with "legal" problems." LaCroix bared his teeth suggestively at the two lawyers. Vicki thought as she dug her nails into her palms. "As Catherine said, you had plenty of time. You cannot claim that the contract was signed under coercion." "I am never coerced." LaCroix looked outraged at the very idea. Susan Garrett turned to the Sheriff. "Did you hear that?" He nodded. You may need to be able to testify to it in Court. "Why are you doing this?" "You have to ask? Take a look at this place." Vicki looked around the Bar. "There isn't a lawyer in Canada who wouldn't be able to get Janette off on a justifiable homicide plea if she happened to stake you. Of course, legal jobs are hard to come by. There are lots of lawyers out there and the Bordeaux wine and other perks I'm receiving are great. Janette does know her wine." Vicki smiled. "This is a labor of love for me" Catherine volunteered. "For me also. Getting paid is wonderful, and necessary, but it always helps to really believe in what you are doing. LaCroix looked around the room. "This paper appears to say that I must turn possession of the Raven over to Janette? Where is SHE?" She injected the word with venom. "I will retain possession until she arrives." "Actually, you won't" Vicki said. "Janette executed a limited Power of Attorney in favor of Miklos. There is a copy of it in that stack of papers you have. Miklos is authorized to take possession of the Raven in Janette's name, to institute repairs and to manage the place for as long as necessary." LaCroix was white with anger. His fish had been kidnapped. His bar was being taken away by weasels. His radio equipment in the Raven was being stolen with mortal legalese ; the Sheriff was there; Miklos was there to protect the mortals LaCroix thought. "COME!" LaCroix stared at the demoralized Cousins, and strode swiftly out the door. The Cousins followed their Uncle through the gauntlet of grinning Ravenettes. ### RAVENETTES CELEBRATION by Vicki Jean Merriman Time: After sunset Place: The Raven The Sheriff followed LaCroix and the Cousins out the door, leaving the Ravenettes in sole possession. Immediately a huge cheer broke out and everyone starting hugging each other. Vicki threw her briefcase into the air. Lorelei and a couple of others were brave enough to hug Miklos, who unbent a little and actually smiled. Susan glanced over the crowd fondly, "The drinks are on Lucien LaCroix." Miklos headed over to bar, followed by Sheryl and Tami. During the next few minutes, everyone hurried to get the drink of their choice. Sheryl and Tami helped Miklos serve. "A toast," Susan announced. "To Janette - our leader, and to the Raven, may it live long and healthy in its true incarnation." Everyone cheered again and sipped their drinks. Vicki thought about the last two days of hard work as a job well done. -- When the outside door started to open MJ and Lorelei rushed over and grabbed two figures just as they entered. "The bar is closed for redecorating. Come back later." Lorelei added to herself, noting the crumbs and what looked like unidentified residual dried bits on one of the women's t-shirt. She sniffed audibly. "Oi, leave us alone. we were invited." Maddog looked stubborn. Everyone was watching the altercation when Miklos spoke up. "You are those lurkers, Maddog and Rastro, that ran around asking everyone annoying questions during the last war, aren't you?" Vicki was _so_ embarrassed, and immediately jumped up. "MJ, Lorelei, please, let them go. I __did__ invite them. It was only with their assistance that we got the Cousins to gather here so we could have the fun of throwing them all out. Maddog and Rastro delivered all the messages via lurker fed-ex. The Cousins _thought_ that the message came from their Uncle. Welcome, welcome. Can we get you something to drink?" "Diet Coke. What a pleasant welcome from you lot." Maddog dripped sarcasm as she eyed the well dress Ravenettes. "Especially since I already told Vicki that we'd bring the Ben and Jerry's ice cream." Everyone looked pleased about that. There isn't a mortal alive that can resist Ben and Jerry's. "Wot?" A few minutes later Maddog and Rastro no longer looked pleased. "We thought there'd be Hershey's Kisses." Fortunately, they were interrupted by another knock on the door. Kathy opened the door and saw a huge crowd of uniformed people, mostly men. "Miklos, your supplies are here. Just kidding," She hurriedly added. Miklos came forward. "No, this is the company that will redecorate the Raven, and make it suitable to exist again. They are 24 hour construction crews." "Fantastic. I thought _we_ were going to have to make the repairs," Ari commented. "No way. We can stick LaCroix with this tab. According to paragraph 29 of the contract, any expenses that Janette has to extend to put the Raven back in the condition that it was when she sold it (barring normal wear and tear), come out of the money that LaCroix paid her for it. So we fix up the Raven, and only if there is anything left do we actually have to reimburse LaCroix what he paid Janette for the property." Vicki grinned. "Kool." All the Ravenettes thought that that was a terrific concept. "Why don't we leave the repair crew with this mess and head back to the bar where we all gathered initially. OK?" "Yes" "Great Idea" "Sounds good to me". "When will they be finished?" Jill was practical in nature. "Well, they told Miklos and I they thought it could be done by midnight, but quite frankly, that may be optimistic," Catherine replied. "But it should be done tonight?" "Definitely. That's why they get paid the big bucks. For quick results." "Fantastic. Let's go." The Group headed for the door. ### AFTERMATH by Jill Bradley Time: Evening Place: The Raven The Ravenettes and Ravens had again taken their rightful places in the club. The din was deafening as they relived the scene ending in Lacroix's defeat. Temporary it might be, but it had been a joy to witness. The group was gathered at several tables celebrating their Boss's victory. Jill looked around, twitching. She wanted something...hmmm, got the gin & tonic...she noticed Tara lighting up, over near Miklos and Susan, which made her craving recognizable. "Anyone got a cigarette?" she asked hopefully. Cynthia nodded absently and slung her bag around to get them. She reached for the cigarettes, idly noting that they were NOT Marlboro Reds, and therefore couldn't possibly be hers. And then she sat bolt upright as she recalled that she hadn't smoked a cigarette in almost three years and those damned CANDY cigarettes were in the pouch that had once contained her asthma medications. Heads were definitely going to roll for this one, she thought, as she reached for the bar telephone to try to find an allergist in Toronto who would prescribe inhalable steroidal drugs to an American stranger at this hour of the night. And CANDY cigarettes were the ultimate insult since not only had she quit smoking, but she was allergic to sugar as well. Jill was offering sympathy to Cynthia when she spotted Sheryl over at the bar. Maybe Sheryl would have a cigarette. Sheryl's head came up and she searched the crowd until she spotted Jill, then she nodded. Jill grinned. It was so convenient to be slightly telepathic. "I'm going over to the bar. Anyone need anything?" Perfectly coiffed heads turned her way. "Red wine would be great," Catherine smiled. Tara paused in her conversation with Susan to shake her head, pointing to her small glass-- was that blackberry brandy? Jill shuddered. "I'll just have a Diet Coke," Kathy murmured. She and David had been discussing the war's effect on the mind. "David, you up for a Glenlivit?" He nodded without stopping his conversation. They had discovered that neither of them was even sure how they had gotten to Toronto. These wars were amazing! Tami grinned at Jill. "This is a special occasion. Bring me a Mai-Tai?" Jill shrugged and nodded. Ravenettes were an electic bunch of drinkers, she mused. "That's my limit, guys. I've been known to dump extra large Pepsi on innocent Pizza Hut customers in my day, and I'd hate to ruin anyone's clothing!" She headed off toward Sheryl and the bar, muttering to herself. ### PLOT TWISTS (Part 1b) by Wyndi and Diana Place: Toronto A couple of hours later, after showers and grimacing at well-worn clothes, Wyndi and Diana headed out into Toronto. They somehow (miraculously) found a shopping district within only a short time, and began looking for something to wear. By 10 that night both of them had found enough clothing to keep them going for several weeks, though nothing really fancy (like would be required at the Raven, Wyndi mentioned meaningfully), and both were totally exausted. They returned to their hotel to nap and change, somehow managing to loose track of time. It was almost as thought the war wasn't going on... "Do you think we may have jumped the gun?" Wyndi asked Diana worriedly. Neither of them wanted to make fools of themselves by acting prematurely. "Well check at the church tomorrow, when it's safer." Diana finally decided. "So that if we really piss off a certain vampire, he can't follow us into the sunlight." She grinned at Wyndi. Wyndi grinned back. "He'll be at our mercy." She sighed happily, then had a thought. "Maybe I should call the one who made this all possible and thank Him," she said, then leaned over to the phone, pulling out her notebook as she went. She looked up His new, private, number, knelt on the bed carefully, and dialed in the number breathlessly. She was surprised, and a little worried, when a woman answered the phone. "Hello, is Lucius there?" Wyndi listened intently for a few moments, then said, "Do you happen to know where He went? He neglected to tell me He was leaving Indianapolis." She listened again, and sighed. "Alright, well, could you tell Him that Deoridle called? Mmm, thanks." She sighed and hung up the phone. "He's not home. His landlady said He hadn't been for a while.... I wonder where He could have gone, and why He didn't tell me." She frowned, worried. "I hope He's alright. He couldn't be in trouble, could He?" She looked over at Diana, who had been silent for a while, but Diana was asleep. "I'll try back tomorrow night," Wyndi said to herself, aloud. "Maybe He would have called in to get His messages, or something..." She sighed again, curled up under the covers, and went to sleep. ### FEAST OF ALL SOULS by Tara O'Shea Time: Night Place: The Raven "I should have brought a camera," Tara laughed, dancing in a lopsided circle. "I should have brought a camera, but I'll tell you... the look on his face is burned into my retinas for all time. I am such a happy human being." She collapsed in a booth, smiling like the proverbial canary chomping cat. Two seconds later she was out of the booth again and throwing her arms around Miklos, who looked a bit uncertain what to do with her. "I love the words 'Power of Attorney'. I'd kiss you, but I want to live. I want to live for a *long* time. I want to see LaCroix *suffer* with mine own two eyes," she stopped. "But first, I want a cigarette." She disentangled herself from the confused vampires's arms, and lit up. The look on her face as she exhaled a cloud of pale blue smoke was pure bliss. "You know, I had forgotten..." Miklos began with a sigh, and Susan smiled at him. "Yeah, when you haven't seen her in a while, you start to doubt your memory. But she's..." "Mercurial." "A good candidate for drug therapy." "That too." He agreed. "Don't forget suicidal," Tara added, drawing deeply on her cig. "*Oncle* is going to be plenty mad. Perhaps we should be afraid?" "Yeah, I'd say that would be wise." Susan waved smoke away from her face. "But first..." Tara brandished a Boiled In Lead tape, "I want to go check out that transmitting equipment. You know, Adam Stemple does scary things with a Kazoo in 'Bring It With You When You Come.'" ### AN EXCHANGE TAKES PLACE by Dawn Steele with help from Abby Time: Suppertime Place: Outside of an expensive downtown restaurant Dawn slipped out the back door of the restaurant, absently patting the vibrating beeper that had summoned her. "How did you know where I was?" she asked the Mercenary waiting for her. "We have our ways." Abby held up a few sheets of paper, a cassette and a videotape. "I've got it all here. It's well worth the price." Dawn reached into her bag and pulled out the payment. The very last one... The last complete set of original Crayola crayons in existance that had red-orange and a whole black. She hesitated, her instincts fiercely objecting to any parting. "I don't suppose we could renegotiate?" The Mercenary waved the hostage tapes in the air. "Sure. Now that you mention it, I want a bit extra. It was cold standing outside all that time, and I had more trouble than I expected bugging the place." "More?" Dawn's voice sounded weak. "More." Abby's face was...well, it was Mercenary. "The crayons, a guarantee that the Die Hards won't attack the Mercenaries for the duration of the war, and...an I.O.U. we can call in at any time." Dawn just looked at the tapes. "Is it worth it?" "Yes." She laughed. "Proof in living colour sound of a meeting between the Knighties, the FoD's, the NatPackers and the Vaqueros. You'll find it interesting viewing." "I'm sure I will." With a reluctancy that couldn't be denied she quickly wrote out the written contract that Abby insisted on. They parted, and Dawn started back inside. She wondered vaguely what she was getting herself into. Hiring a merc to spy on the other groups and try to find out what they were doing had seemed a good idea at the time.... Jane had been busy setting up the Die Hard headquarters, and none of the others had arrived yet. She sighed and looked at the tapes. The other Die Hard were still ticked off about being attacked without provocation. The Die Hards had always stood for the peaceful mediation type. Or at least that's what their image was. The new crew was pretty vengeful, and Dawn had to admit being a bit annoyed herself. No provocation, no warning, no... And now it looked as if the Knighties, NatPackers, Vaqueros had joined sides. The Die Hards hadn't even received an invitation. //Yes indeed. I think the Die Hards will be interested in the contents of these tapes. I could fuel the fires, but... I've already paid for it. I might as well let them see it. Then we'll discuss what we'll do about them... or them.// ### SIGHTSEEING (b) by Dawn Steele (with help from Jennifer Mingee) Time: Evening Place: Toronto After supper the Die Hards went back to the headquarters, only to find a new addition waiting for them at the guard's desk. Wendy Kelly had arrived in Toronto, and was talking to Ariel, Leah and Helen - back from their mission at Natalie's place. Lana was feeling restless. She just couldn't wait around for something (or the dreaded ) to happen, so she suggested they go out and spy on LaCroix and the Cousins at the Raven. None of them had the necessary tacky clothes to blend in with the new decor, so they made a pit stop at a couple of clothing shops on the way. Dressed to the nines in semi-sleazy attire, Jane, Lana, Dawn, Lillian, Wendy, Jennifer, Ariel, Leah, Laura, and Helen trooped towards the Raven entrance. Only to find the door closed, with a big burly bouncer (dressed expensively in a tuxedo) at the door blocking anyone from getting inside. Espescially people in semi-sleazy attire. "Rats!" exclaimed Dawn. "This war has certainly moved fast." "So the Ravennettes have reclaimed the Raven", Lana mused. "I'd be surprised if LaCroix and his minions stand around and twiddle their thumbs. The Raven will likely be active in the next few days." "So what are we going to do now?" Ariel asked. "Especially dressed like ," Jane added. "Well...we could go back to Die Hard headquarters. We're all pretty tired and we plan on another full day sightseeing tommorrow." Dawn was trying to be reasonable, but...this was war! You weren't supposed to get a lot of sleep! "There are other clubs, you know." Laura mentioned. "Yeah..." Dawn's face lit up with a smile. "Let's go party!" ### LEGAL SCHMEGAL by Cousin Deborah Time: Night Place: Toronto Lacroix was seething. Most of the cousins had fled to other parts of the city but Deborah remained with a few others. They were seated in the former home of CERK radio. The place looked abandoned and did nothing for their mood. "The situation is unacceptable," Lacroix hissed to no one in particular. "Agreed." Deborah nodded. "All I need is a moment alone with Janette and she will back down," he said. "Agreed." She nodded again. "They will be sorry." "Agr..." an angry glance from Lacroix made Deborah alter her response. "What will you do now?" she asked. He gave her a withering glance. "What am I supposed to do? Lower myself to engage in a legal battle with my own child. And for the amusement of those, admittedly well dressed, dress forms? No. Janette and I will settle this...out of court." "Well, I hadn't imagine that you would parade yourself in front of a judge, Uncle. I really meant, what will you do about not being able to get back in for now? Possession being nine tenths and all. Also, there are a lot of things happening and you really should be there." "I can't go anywhere near the place with Miklos there to protect those mortals. He'll know and they will have time to call the police. I will not be humiliated *again* by being thrown out of my own club." "What if we get Miklos out. In fact, if you can't be there, why should anyone else. Let's get everyone out." "How?" Lacroix looked only mildly interested. Deborah looked around for inspiration. Suddenly she found it. "Calie, could you come here for a minute." The cousin who had missed the whole fiasco at the Raven and until now had been fairly quiet, came forward. Deborah placed a hand on her shoulder. "Calie," she asked, "how old are you?" "Almost 18. Why?" Deborah looked at Uncle and smiled. And Lacroix smiled back. * * * * * * * * * * * A few hours later, standing outside the Raven, Deborah could see the crush of people trying to get in While her thoughts were running along this vein, what she was saying was quite different. She was speaking in a low voice to the police officer she'd called earlier. His partner and two others were already in the club. "You see, Officer, my sister has been running with, well...a questionable crowd and I am very concerned about her. She's..." Deborah paused as if to collect herself and then continued "She's all I have since out parents died and I feel so...so responsible. I just hate the thought of her in a place like this meeting Goodness only knows what types of people." She sniffed delicately into a handkerchief and the officer patted her on the shoulder. "Yes, Ma'am," he said. "I know what that's like. I've got a younger sister myself and I wouldn't care for her going in there either. Now, you say you think she's been drinking here." "Well, not recently. In fact, I thought she'd come to her senses. But I heard her on the phone. I wasn't eavesdropping, you understand...Officer?" she looked at him imploringly "Stevens, Ma'am. No, of course you weren't." "Well, as I said, I heard her talking to one of her friends about how the old management was back so the drinks would be flowing again. Apparently, the most recent managers made sure that they weren't serving anyone underage." Deborah began to cry just at the right moment (a handy talent she'd had since she was a child.) "These people don't care." She sobbed. "They don't care what young lives they ruin. All they're interested in is money. What kind of a world do we live in?" She bent her head and cried. The officer felt his heart go out to this woman who was obviously doing her best for a younger sister that didn't appreciate her. He knew then and there that he would help her anyway he could. "Don't you worry, Ms. Menikoff. After tonight, they won't be serving anyone anything for quite a while." She looked up at him, her eyes shining with tears. "Thank you," she murmured. "You'll bring her home when it's all over?" "Yes, Ma'am. It's the adults we want. Not her. You go on home and we'll bring her to you." She placed a hand on his arm as she turned to go and said haltingly, "You're...you're very kind." And then she was gone. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Meanwhile, inside the Raven.... Calie sat at the bar attempting to look bored and jaded. Somehow, if you looked bored enough, no one ever asked you for ID. It apparently worked because, the bartender, looking equally jaded, asked her what she want to drink. Calie didn't hesitate "Scotch and soda," she said, in a voice that might have said the same thing hundreds of times. When the drink was placed in front of her, she added "Run a tab?" He shrugged and turned away. Suddenly, there was a man at her side. "Miss, may I see your ID? Calie knew that something like this would happen so she put up a bit of a show protest and then handed over her driver's license. "Don't mind the picture." she said attempting a weak laugh. "Miss, you'll have to come with us." "Why?" "Miss, please?" another one appeared on her other side and showed his badge. "My sister put you up to this!!" she shouted, attracting as much attention as she could. "I knew it. That b**ch!" People were starting to look in her direction and the bartender came over to see what was happening. "Is there a problem?" he asked. When he saw the badge, he added "Perhaps it would be best to remove the young lady if she is in some sort of trouble with the law. We want no trouble here." "Mister, you've got trouble." It was young officer Stevens, who had been so moved by the display of sisterly devotion earlier. "This girl is a minor and I have it from a reliable source that you and this entire establishment are known to serve liquor to minors on a regular basis. Let me see the manager?" "This is a lie." "The manager?" The officer repeated Miklos looked around at the gathering crowd and decided that now was not the time to obstruct justice, however misguided it might be. "I am the manager." "Then you'll have to come with us." Then Stevens turned to the crowds that just a while earlier had been reveling in the return on *their* club. "Ladies and gentlemen, this club is closed until further notice and pending an investigation of the Licensing board. Everyone out." From across the road in a car with darkened windows, Lacroix and Deborah watched as the police herded the crowds out into the street. With his vampiric hearing, he'd heard the whole thing. "Well done," he said and she grinned at him. "But..." At that her grin dimmed a bit. "What about getting in? They confiscated the keys from the office and any signs of breaking and entering will be noticed." "You forget," Deborah tapped him playfully on the arm (a sure sign that she, herself, had either had a drink or was feeling supremely confident) and reached into her pocket. "You gave me the keys the other day. Now, don't you think we should get back before the police return with my *sister*?" He laughed. It was an intoxicating sound made more so by the infrequency with which it was heard. "Yes, my dear. Let's go." ### BACK DOOR MAN by Tara O'Shea and Lorelei Feldman Time: Night Place: Janette's flat "Ugh." Tara stood in the open door of what had been Janette's flat. "Obviously, we have our work cut out for us." What had been a beautiful apartment decorated in muted greens, burgundies and creams had been turned into a black and chrome sterile nightmare of a dwelling. "You know, I wonder--do you think it might be easier to simply tear out this whole wing and start over again? At least that way we won't have to look at it." She shuddered, and fingered a tube-shaped chrome and paper lamp distastefully. "Shall I bring up the crews, or might we just smash everything ourselves?" Lorelei asked with a gleam in her eye. She loved a little good mayhem in a righteous cause. "It's no more than this obscenity deserves." Tara sighed. "Tempting . . ." she shook her head, "but this may well be a job best left to professionals. On second thought, why destroy it all? That would be a waste, and if we have everything put into storage . . ." she gestured to the furnishings. "Just in case." "You never know when we might need to do some . . . redecorating?" Lorelei grinned, and Tara nodded, and evil gleam in her eye. "I can't believe the Boss let you stay here last war. I don't mind telling you that I'm insanely jealous." "It was a weak moment I'm sure she's regretted since." Tara grinned, lifting up a black area rug with a grimace. "Good, at least he has the good sense to leave the hardwood floors alone. You," she pointed to one of the nice young men Miklos had hired who appeared in the doorway. "You look manly. Have these taken up and rolled. We'll need to have the floor done, and see if you can't steam off that wallpaper cleanly. I'll go through the catalogues and see if I can find furniture that's close enough to the original." "You're *not* going to like what he's done to the bedroom." Lorelei said from the second level, and Tara sighed. "Somehow, I didn't think so." * * * "Hey, the music stopped," Lorelei froze as she and Tara were putting the finishing touches on the living room. They figured the party would go on all night, and after toasting their return had resumed the renovations after the doors had opened once again. "Ladies and Gentlemen--" a voice drifted up from the stairs as Tara opened the door a crack. "--This club is closed until further notice pending--" "What? Hey, Tara, do you know..." Tara shut the door with a barely audible click. "Back door." "Back door?" Tara nodded. "Back door." "*Already*? I knew he'd be mad, but I didn't think he'd be this fast." Lorelei shook her head as they crept down the back stairs to the alley. "We should have. I should have," Tara sighed. "Well, spilt milk." She peeked around the corner of the building and saw Miklos getting into the back seat of the cop car as the crowds milled outside the club. She couldn't spot the other ravens in the melee, so she figured they were on their own. "Taxi!" Lorelei held out her hand, and grinned. "Um...Follow that car?" she told the driver, and then leaned over to whisper "I can't believe... did I just say that?" * * * Officer Stevens looked decidedly uncomfortable as the suspect continued to stare at him. "Sir, if you could just give me a surname--" "Miklos." "Mick-losh Mick-losh?" "Just Miklos," the bartender said wearily. "If you will simply call my lawyers--" "You'll get your phone call in a minute, bub," Stevens partner was sick of this crap. "But first, we're gonna have to ask you some questions." "Where's my fiance?" an anguished voice was raised, and Stevens looked up to see the desk sergeant trying to calm an obviously distraught young woman in a black dress who was trying to get inside. "Miss, you're going to have to wait--" the sergeant began, but Tara pushed her way past him. "Miki! Oh thank God I found you," she rushed to his side and threw her arms around him. "Are you all right?" Before he could answer, she whirled on Stevens, who wore an expression similar to a cat in the path of a freight train. "I demand to know what you've charged him with." "Miss--" "Constantine." "--Constantine, we haven't charged Mr. uh... Miklos with anything. We're investigating claims that his establishment has been serving alcohol to minors--" "I've never heard of anything so preposterous! Do you have witnesses?" "A Callie Menikoff." Stevens said, and his partner not so subtly elbowed him. "Miss, really, you shouldn't be back here--" "Where is she?" Tara demanded, still hanging on Miklos's arm. He patted her shoulder awkwardly. "She's not here." Steven's partner said abruptly, trying to pry Tara away from Miklos' side. "Shouldn't you be asking her the questions, officer, instead of holding my fiance here on mere hearsay? Since when do you *investigate* claims of underage drinking?"" "Miss, I--" Stevens began. "Officers, can you leave us alone for a moment?" Miklos asked politely but firmly. "I'm sure I can straighten this out." "I'm sure you can straighten this out," Stevens agreed and the two uniforms went off in search of coffee and donuts. * * * Lorelei filled her styrofoam cup with lukewarm coffee, papers tucked under one arm, and kept watch on the approaching officers out of the corner of her eye. As they approached, she adjusted her sunglasses atop her head and turned, slamming into Stevens. She held the coffee cup aloft, and magically, didn't spill a drop. But her papers scattered every which way, her sunglasses went flying across the room, and Stevens found himself eye level with the toes of her lace-up suede boots. "Ohmygosh, are you okay? I am so sorry," Lorelei set down the cup to help Stevens up, and it spilled, sending a stream of lukewarm coffee across the table to drip down onto the scuffed linoleum. His partner bite back a curse and started mopping up the coffee with paper towel while Lorelei bent down to retrieve her papers before they got splattered with coffee. "I am such a klutz, I swear." She half crawled under the table to retrieve photocopied Marie de France, and came back out, dusting off her knees and boots. "Here, let me help," Stevens gathered up the papers and handed the messy sheaf to her with a lopsided smile. "I didn't mean to make such a mess--" "It's okay, but you really shouldn't be back here." "I'm sorry, I just wanted a cup of coffee while I waited." "There's a coffee machine downstairs." "Really? Oh, you've been so helpful," Lorelei's eyes lit up and she gave Stevens a quick hug before bounding off in the direction he indicated. Stevens straightened his uniform, and met his partner's disapproving state. "What?" "Nothing," the older man grumbled, and downed a cup of lukewarm coffee. "Nothing at all." * * * "Fiance?" Miklos raised an eyebrow. "As if *anyone* would believe I'm your sister," Tara smiled, and released her death grip on his arm. "What happened?" "A young woman appeared at the bar and ordered a scotch." "How young?" "Apparently, too young. Collins was serving and you know how bad he is with judging mortal age." "This is not good." "I'm not worried about our liquor license, something tells me that is the least of our worries. While I am here--" "--no one's home guarding the club. Ah, this is not good." Tara began to chew on a thumbnail, a nervous habit. "No." "Do you think LaCroix would be foolish enough...never mind, I lost my head for a moment. Of course he is." She laughed, and then raised a hand to her forehead, a sound of pain escaping her lips. "We need to get this minor inconvenience cleared up quickly." Miklos said firmly. "Can't you just hoodoo them and be done with it?" she gestured to the uniforms, who were on their second cups. "My dear, that is not the answer. Not this time." "It was worth a shot." "The worst that can happen is I am fined, and there is some difficulty with the Licensing Board. I should be out before dawn. You go back." "I need to get the keys from Susan, I only have the old set. You..." she shook her head. "If it's after dawn when they come to their senses--" "I'll make it back, don't worry about me. Did you come alone?" "No, I have actually been the distraction, which I think I have accomplished well, while Lorelei checks out Laurel and Hardy over there." She glanced up to see Stevens and Mr. Congeniality returning, and once again she threw her arms around Miklos' neck. "Miss, I'm afraid you'll have to go." Stevens got a hold of her arm, and she waved frantically as he tugged her back towards the door she'd come in. "It's just routine, I promise everything will be fine." "Officer, do you have a nickname?" Tara asked, her tone light and non-threatening. Stevens seemed a little embarrassed, she actually thought he was blushing. "Well, the guys in the division bowling league call me 'Strike.'" "Oh, that's sweet. If you don't remove your hand from my arm, it's going to be 'Stumpy.'" She smiled as she said this. Stevens let her go. "Thank you." Tara started to go, and then turned back. "Oh, and Officer?" "Yes?" Stevens was wary. All traces of her hysteria had vanished, and he didn't know what to make of it just yet. "I'd ask Callie--did you say her name was Menikoff? It wasn't when I knew her, you know. I'd ask Callie if someone put her up to this little stunt. You see, the dangerous crowd the girl runs with is actually the former owner of the club who was evicted today. Breach of contract. He was terribly upset, you know, and not above using a young girl for revenge." She tugged on her trenchcoat and walked out, leaving Stevens dazed and a bit pale. * * * "Did you get anything?" Tara blew smoke into the night air, arms wrapped around herself to keep warm as Lorelei exited the building. "Oh, I got something all right," Lorelei held up three pages torn from Steven's notebook. "Seems he was set on us by Deborah, who was worried about her poor dear little sister." "Does it say where poor dear sister is to be dropped off?" "Would you believe the cousins have run back to the old CERK offices?" Lorelei held up a page of notes. "With the collective tails between their collective legs no doubt," Tara scanned the crumpled sheet. "Uncle leading the pack as always." "How about Miklos?" "He'll be okay, they caught a minor being served, but that minor is a major Cousin. There's nothing I can do for now. I called Vicki, I'm hopeless when it comes to law." Tara yawned, and crushed the cigarette with her heal, leaving a smudge. "Only a few hours left til dawn, might as well catch some sleep while we can." "No sense wasting precious daylight, vampire-free hours in slumberland," Lorelei agreed, and the two Ravens headed back to the club. ### A COUSIN MEETS HER UNCLE by Toni C. Holm Place: Toni's home As she sat at her desk, Cousin Toni thought about the others gathering in Toronto. Although she'd never met any of the other cousins, she'd heard plenty about each & every one and about the sneak attack that had been perpetrated on them. Q-tips! Q-tips! One very sick mind must have come up with that one. It must be a defector or Merc working for another faction. Since she hadn't received any of the fluffy little white tipped surprise packages she must be still incognito. She'd heard about this War madness, but never imagine she would play a part. Until the phone rang and she heard the seductive voice of the man she met last year at the NAB Convention.... (Writer's Note: The National Association of Broadcasters is a group of radio & TV people, mainly from the US, but open to Canadians.) OBLIGATORY FLASHBACK SCENE: She'd left the convention hotel in New Orleans looking for an escape from the blue suited & white shod partying broadcasters. Why had she ever agreed to come to another one of these conventions? It seemed like a great idea at the time -- get away from the station, eat some great food, do a little shopping and all as a business write-off. She figured she'd just check into a suite in the hotel, pick up her badge & a program to document the trip for the IRS and then blow off the whole thing. Then the token female board member called & asked her to do a workshop on sexual harassment. ("Don't be too hard on them dear...kisses...") Too hard? It was just too tempting... she'd made a few calls and hired the local Chapter of F.I.S.T. (Feminists in Self Defense Training) to play "victims" in the role playing section of the workshop. "Yes, there' ll be a few better behaved party animals out tonight," she thought with satisfaction remembering how the slight 5' market vendor had "accidentally" tripped that pig in the green golf pants from the Grand Rapids all-talk AM over the balcony when he "accidentally" brushed up against her breasts. After the ambulance left no-one really wanted to tell example jokes anymore and the workshop broke up early. She gave the taxi driver the address, sinking back in the seat, happy to be anywhere but at the hotel with those pawing, guffawing conventioneers. A friend had mentioned there was a new gothic club on the edge of the French Quarter, recently opened, her friend said, by a strange young man who turned up as the heir to that awful vampire book writer who died mysteriously after last season... After an hour or so at the club, she'd just about decided to have one more drink & go home. The club was crowded, the music predictable and the clientele even more so. She hadn't seen anyone even remotely interesting. As she went back to the loo she stopped one of the stilt heeled servers to ask for another Tanguery to be delivered to her table. When she reached over to tip the server to insure the drink actually arrived a man came out of a door marked "Private" and caught her hand. "A Haida Frog?" he said. "Denny Dixon's work, I believe," indicating the large silver ring she wore on her right hand. The man was medium sized and beautifully dressed in a European cut black wool suit. He had palest blue eyes she'd ever seen. She was about to ask him how he knew about the ring when she caught sight of one of the hideous blue & yellow badges they'd given out at the convention. He caught her look. "I came to visit a very old friend, but you must make an appearance for sake of the Inland Revenue people after all," he sighed. "Lucien LaCroix, CERK, Toronto," he said raising her hand slightly in salute. "And you?" looking at the remnants of a blue & yellow sticky badge smudging her usual black silk. "If you're with the convention, I'd rather not say," she said laughing. "There was...er...an incident...at the workshops this afternoon and several people aren't too pleased with me right now..." "How droll," he said, removing his ugly little badge and dropping it to join the other detritus on the floor, "I love incidents and I loathe conventions. Why don't you tell me about it?" They sat and talked for several hours about coastal tribal art (about which he seemed to know everything) about the horrors of dealing with contest winners & overanxious publicity people and the general ungrateful attitude of protegees. Later as he handed into her cab, she found herself giving him her business card, saying, "Give me a call if you ever need anything in the Northwest." As she mouthed the words, somehow it didn't seem like one of those empty social promises... END OBLIGATORY FLASHBACK The phone on her desk rang again impatiently. Her Private line. "Yes," she said and listened while the voice on the other end of the phone explained what she was to do. "They what? They can't be allowed to get away with that! Ok, I understand. Oh, I'll be happy to take care of it. No, I don't think they know about me yet. " She hung up the phone with a shiver, paging through her "special" rolodex with a smile... ### A PREDATOR AND ITS PREY (Part 1) Lane Lombardia Time: Night Place: The Raven Having successfully created an emergency situation for his employer's Toronto office, necessitating an experienced Macintosh Technician, Lane had the time to ply his other, more sinister trade. Besides, with his official job picking up the tab, he could repay the loan to the Guild before accrued interest choked him. He had made certain agreements, and he was not about to be forced to return even a single fee for failing to complete a job. Somewhere in Toronto, his quary was waiting, unaware. This person was going to learn that some things simply weren't done, especially to those who had the means to pay for revenge. It would be a challenge to ensure that the interests of all of his clients would not overlap; but, Lane was in no mood to be deterred. The various legal finagling had resulted in making the Raven effectively off-limits to everyone. On the other hand, Lane had a suspicion that the best clue as to where to begin his hunt would be there. A little matter like a locked door was nothing more than a technical problem. Like all buildings built by humans, the Raven was vulnerable to entry at the roof. Humans simply assumed that a forced entry would come from the ground level. They assumed that the mere height was deterence enough. Any ninjutsu practitioner immediately realized the folly of this view. Lane was no different in that respect. The fact that the Raven was frequented by vampires only meant that the roof door would be even less likely to have a locked roof door, since it presented an unobtrusive way for vampires to come and go. Most likely, in their haste to get everyone out, the sheriff had failed to actually fasten whatever feeble lock actually existed on the roof door. The climb to the roof had Lane sore and tired; but, how does one fit scaling buildings into a workout? Rolling over the side, Lane crawled to the roof door. Not only was it not locked; but it wasn't even fully closed. Slithering down the steps, Lane searched the inky blackness with the AN/PVS-7C mil-spec night-vision goggles. There was no one, not even a mouse, in the Raven. Lane made a mental note to get his hands on some halothane, since it was obvious that he would not have the luxury of a defensive ambush. He would have to employ an offensive ambush, once his quary was located. Searching through the empty Raven, Lane learned very little which he hadn't already suspected. It was time to go. Under a minute later, he was walking away from the Raven, into the shadows of the night, and congratulating himself on his fast-rope technique. [Ed.: Fast-roping is a technique used by special-warfare operaters in lieu of rapelling which has the advantage that it is faster on the dismount.] ###