***Sunday, November 5, 1995*** LADIES OF THE KNIGHT by Perri Smith Time: Dawn Place: Nick's loft Nick opened the door to the loft quietly, trying not to wake the Knighties. They'd had a long couple of days, and deserved all the sleep they could get. At least they didn't have to work. He was just glad his shift was over for the night. He crossed the floor at a hover, avoiding footfalls, and checked on the children as he went by. *Children. What a word to use.* These followers - many of them were older than he had been when he was brought across. They were women (*and men,* he reminded himself, looking at Matt and Tim) of the world, most of them. Still, they looked up to him, depended on him for protection. . . and were more than willing to yell at him, he reminded himself, without regard for who was older. They had proven that when they'd stood by and let Amy holler. No, not children. But part of his life, now, all the same. He was even starting to put names and personalities to faces. Marcia, shy until she got going, then there was no stopping her. Scottie, the veteran, unflappable unless it involved nicotine or cola. Marge, the dramatic one. Allison and Susanne, the quiet ones. Amy Denton, the hothead. *Is she ever. Haven't been cussed out like that in centuries.* Catherine, the sneaky, calm one. Perri, the enthusiastic, innocent one -- he smiled ruefully. *If I ever called Perri that to her face, she'd bite my head off and enjoy it. Innocent, but mean.* Sandra -- *I don't want to think about that.* He'd thought her to be one of his most loyal followers, but how could he not believe his own eyes? Still, something inside nagged at him, that maybe, just maybe, he'd been wrong. *Amy believed in her. Loudly.* He shook it off and went to the refrigerator, forgetting for a moment that they'd moved the blood. He stared at the food for a minute, wondering for a moment. *What the devil is in tofu? And why does Scottie drink so much of that 'cola' stuff?* He shook his head and retrieved blood from the mini-fridge under the bar, *They may have a point about blood in the main fridge,* poured a glass, and took it back to the table, turning on one small light for company more than anything. "Nick?" Perri appeared from the darkness behind the couch, rubbing her eyes sleepily. A fuzzy blanket with a picture of a tiger was wrapped around her shoulders, trailing on the floor behind her; feet clad in blue socks poked out from beneath it. "Yeah, it's me. Go back to sleep, Perri, it's still early." She yawned and came to the table anyway, slipping into a chair. "Naw, it's almost 6:30 in Texas. That's when I usually get up." He smiled at her; he couldn't help it. She was curled up in the chair with her legs under her, her hair falling into her eyes, her chin propped on her hand. And she looked maybe twelve. *Compared to her usual 16. Another thing Perri "I'm 21, dammit!" Smith would kill me for pointing out.* "Have you noticed we always seem to wind up like this? Sitting in the dark talking?" he thought out loud. "Mmmm," she answered with a sleepy smile. "I usually plan it that way." She shrugged when he looked at her questioningly. "I never get to see you except in wars, and I like talking to you. So shoot me." "What's going on?" another sleepy voice asked before Nick could respond. Catherine appeared from under the stairs. She was wearing a huge shirt with a black cartoon duck -- *Daffy,* he remembered -- and her hair was standing on end. She didn't seem to notice as she walked towards the table, narrowly avoiding stepping on several Knighties, and took another seat at the table. "Nothing, Cath," Perri answered, "just talking to Nick without fourteen other people around eavesdropping." "Tell me about it," Cath groaned. "I love them all, but man, we take up a lot of space." Nick declined to comment. "Yeah, they're all great, but it's nice to have some quiet time," Perri agreed. "It's sure been a helluva war." She looked up at Nick. "Remember that mess in New York, at the Jekyll & Hyde and the Jack the Ripper?" "I remember your friend Dawn trying to skewer me." "And I remember you *leaving* me with her, Nicky," Perri pointed out. "I think you two are even." "You yelled at me." "You deserved it." He saw Perri and Catherine exchange glances. For a moment, neither of them looked quite so sleepy. *Uh-oh.* "And you deserved it this time, too." Perri.." he started warningly. "Nick," she stopped him, "remember how you asked me that night why we follow you?" "Yeah," he answered slowly. "I told you we love you because you're not perfect, but you try to be. So we follow you even when you're being a jerk." "Your point?" They exchanged glances again. "Nick," Catherine said, "you're being a jerk." *Ouch. So much for children.* "Oh really." "Yes, really," Catherine continued. "Nick, you're acting like an industrial-strength idiot about Sandra, and you know it. She's the most loyal Knightie that ever came along; she would never do *anything* you'd disapprove of." "Unlike you two." "Don't change the subject," Perri caught him. "Sandra is the farthest thing from a Cousin there is in the world, and she wanders around with a target on her back because of it. I'm amazed she hasn't been kidnapped more often." "You didn't see them, Perri," Nick said defensively, barely remembering to keep his voice down. "She was practically drunk, sitting there like she was his best friend. If she was a Knightie, LaCroix would have used her for prey in the first few minutes he had her alone." "And you're so great at figuring out LaCroix's motives," Catherine muttered under her breath. "Yeah, I think I am, after 800 years." Even to his own ears, it sounded like he was protesting too much. Perri's voice held the patience normally reserved for very small children. "Nick, LaCroix has his own reasons for everything. I have no clue why he left Sandra alive. But I know, and you know, that you went off like a hothead and accused Sandra, thought better of it two minutes later, and now refuse to admit to yourself that you were wrong, because it's easier to sulk." "Not bad pop analysis," Catherine said, biting back a smile. "If not exactly tactful." "Thank you," Perri said. "And I'm only tactful when it'll do some good." "Are you two finished?" Nick asked icily. "Are you going to admit you were wrong?" Catherine asked in return. He set his jaw and stared at them. They sighed. Perri looked sad as only Perri could. "You know, Nick, we love you. But you can't betray us like this and expect us to take it lying down." "Me? Betray you?" "Yes," Perri said. "You wouldn't listen to Sandra's explanation, never gave her a chance, just assumed the worst and turned your back. And she's the most loyal of us." "If you'll do that to her," Catherine picked up the thread without a pause, "Who's to say you won't do it to us. Won't turn your back on us when we need you the most, then refuse to even listen to us. Or admit you were wrong." The words hit like swords. The women were holding up a mirror, and he hated what he saw. Hated that they were right. They saw their scolding take effect, and saw that he wasn't going to say anything. They sighed again, and stood almost as one. "Go to bed, Nick," Perri said tiredly. "We'll be out most of tomorrow; you'll have the loft to yourself again." They trailed back to bed, refusing to look at him. Catherine detoured just long enough to find the remote, and close the shutters. He watched them go, wanting to speak, but not finding the words. A gleam of light caught his eye; he looked into the eyes of a Knightie, looking silently at him. As the shutters closed out the breaking dawn, he saw several other pairs of eyes open, looking at him silently, with no accusation, but disappointment. Then, one by one, they turned over and closed their eyes again. ### ROLLIN', ROLLIN', ROLLIN' by Gabrielle Stendell Time: Early morning Place: Toronto "Yes!" thought Gabi as she manuevered the '94 Caddy DeVille, affectionately dubbed 'Cruella,' through the deserted early-morning streets of Toronto. "I finally made it!" She was lucky she had managed to convince her mother to trade cars, Gabi reflected. 'The Stinkmobile' would never have been able to make the three-day-long drive, especially in the cold. Gabi shivered and pulled her thin coat more tightly around her shoulders. "Sheesh," she muttered. "And I thought it was cold in the bayou!" Within a few short minutes, Gabi was hopelessly lost. "Typical. Just *perfect*!" She parked next to a rundown building and pulled out a tattered map. "Aha!" she exclaimed. "I'm only a few minutes away!" Three hours later, Gabi managed to locate Merc Central. She slipped in the elegant front door as quietly as possible--the last thing she wanted to do was disturb the others right off the bat. She gracefully arranged herself on an antique settee and immediately fell asleep. ### BUTTONS, BUTTONS, EVERYWHERE-- (a) by Partly Time: 7am EST Place: Toronto Partly closed another e-mail with an angry stab at the mouse. People were certainly moving right along in the war, and here she had spent the entire weekend shopping. All right it was true that she had needed to go shopping, she couldn't very well keep up with the war with out a computer. The new powerbook sitting in front of her was a *wonderful* toy, and she loved all the cool clothes she had bought, but she came to Toronto to do more than just shop. Besides there were a lot of people who still had a bad attitude when it came to Tracy (and by default, the Perkulators). While she could handle honest criticism, some of the posts seemed downright mean-spirited. Still, what bothered her most is that everybody seemed to be simply *ignoring* her. While she was only a one-person faction, that didn't mean that she was simply here to be the comic relief. A more aggressive stance needed to be adopted. Perhaps a little reminder that she was still around. It should be small and subtle, something that wouldn't overwhelm the others right away, but that would build over time. And above all it had to be perky and annoying. Her eyes fell to the small pink button on the desk next to her computer, and she smiled. Perfect. Besides she couldn't let them think that the name "button" annoyed her. Might as well turn it to her advantage. All she needed to do was make one small addition, and then get someone to help deliver them. And she knew just the people too. Despite their inability to become actively involved in the war, they had offered to help her out if she needed it. She thought she might take them up on it now. Besides, she needed some more money, everything was costing a lot more than she thought. And soon she'd have to pay for some help. ### SICK DAY (Part 2b) by Diane Echelbarger Time: Morning Place: Toronto Diane packed her luggage, called a cab, and gave the driver the address of Die-Hard Central. "Can I help you, ma'am?" the guard asked. "Dawn Steele, please," Diane said, dropping her blue atheletic bag to the floor. "Tell her it's Diane Echelbarger." Dawn arrived a moment later. "I've come for sanctuary," Diane told her. "Until you've got that--bread recipe--back from your friend." ### CHOCOLATE, CAT LITTER, AND MISSED COMMISSIONS Or: Sara on a Grey Day by Sara E. Orel Time: Morning Place: Toronto Floating, _that's_ what the feeling was. Sara had spend the last several days walking around in a daze, trying to keep a bit of a watch on what was going on with the War, in the meantime haunting used bookshops and trying to get back issues of journals. She had wandered around the ROM last week (probably missing Sandra's kidnapping by not very much), but hadn't looked up anyone she knew there. Actually they were laying off a lot of people there and she didn't really want to find out who still had a job and who didn't so she just avaoided the whole thing. But the Egyptian section (the new installation) was really quite spectacular and she did need to get that coffin published... Actually Sara had been feeling rather sorry for herself as she had been offered a commission at the beginning of the war and written back enthusiastically (yes, sure -- I'll take the job) and then never heard from them again. Perhaps some other merc has also been approached... Maybe we need to make sure that there is a time limit to the recruitment offer (get back to me by 12:30 or I'll go to someone else), because she had waited to drum up work while hoping to hear back from the potential employer. Now there was another offer that she had contacted someone about, but it probably had been taken by another merc as well. She was simply not as young and agressive as some of the other mercs. perhaps she was a FOD? They had a good life, a relaxed life. But no, that was not lucrative enough (and she didn't want to live in a place that smelled of garlic most of the time). Oh well, she thought as she cleared out the cat litter again (why were payments virtual and the cats not? she grumbled), at least I don't have to worry about retaliation (although strictly against the code, it was always a concern). And she had a nice place to stay in Toronto, with lots of coffee shops around. And at the moment merc central was quiet -- there had not been as many mercs wandering through the place as they had expected, making Sara's job as house-mistress/mother and cat-sitter much easier than anticipated. Except for the feather torture conducted in the house earlier in the week. Sara had been very uncomfortable with that, her honour code background showing through rather strongly, but not strongly enough that she interfered with her fellow merc's commission. She just was slightly concerned with how much the wars had warped her morality. Still she had a feeling that the world was passing her by. Should she post asking for commissions? Perhaps she would buy some ad time on a local tv station, or she could try to talk her way onto the air at CERK, or she could spam the lists... That might work... Of course if they were being held again it would be a problem. Where was that list of war leaders -- she could send an ad to each of them and ask them to post it on to their followers. Hmmm... Must think about it, and give the person who most recently was advertising for a merc a fair shot to respond. Tea and a book and some President's Choice lemon cookies, and a warm fire. Toronto in November is cold. ### WHEN THE GOING GETS TOUGH, THE TOUGH GO SHOPPING (Part 1) Or: Veni, Vedi, Visa by Elizabeth Ann Lewis Time: Morning Place: CERK Elizabeth got up from her uncomfortable bed on the floor of CERK Central and stretched. She'd been in Toronto just over a day, and had only done one job for the Cousins, and that had been child's play, distracting the NatPackers while the Cousins had done--something, she wasn't sure what. Rolling up her sleeping bag, Elizabeth shook her head. She got the impression that the Cousins didn't quite trust her even though she was *trying* to fit in. She had acted all tough and obnoxious last night when annoying the NatPack (which was completely against her personality) and all it had gotten her was glares from Cousin Lisa. Oh, well. At least they were kind enough to make sure the NatPack didn't *see* her, and she used her aggravating "Courtney" voice, so no one could recognize her. But if the Cousins didn't make us of her soon, she was going to go looking for other contracts. But some vestage of loyalty demanded that Elizabeth stay with the Cousins for at least a few more days. (Not being precognative, Elizabeth did not know that her best move might be to get her butt out of CERK before Julie was shipped to Mexico, let alone before she got back...) Elizabeth dressed, making sure that her clothes were both stylish and easy to get in and out of. Where she was going, she had to make a good impression but she wasn't going to try on clothes if it was a pain to undress all the time. And then she stepped outside, stepped inside, and put on about three more layers. Toronto was COLD!!! Only when she was well away from CERK did she pull the lovely, gold colored item from her wallet. Erica had told everyone that she had paid for the Merc out of her own pocket... which was true, in a sense. Surely at *some* point LaCroix's credit card had resided in Erica's pocket. Now, however, it was Elizabeth's, and while the sun was up, and the so-called "vampires" were sleeping, she was going to work it. First she had An Incredible Stroke Of Luck (tm) and managed to guess LaCroix's PIN number on her first try (I'd tell you what it is, but it's a spoiler for Trophy Girl), which allowed her to withdraw money from an ATM. *Lots* of money. *Lots and lots* of money. All of it was converted into American dollars and deposited in her checking account in California. *Hah* she thought smugly. *Now all my bills are paid. No matter *what* happens in this war, I'm ahead of the game.* Then she hit the streets. Sunday was a bad day for shipping--all the really good stores were closed--but she was able to find an computer store and purchase a PowerBook (she'd been dying to have one, and so what if she couldn't explain to her parents how she got it? "Uh, it fell off a passing car, and I couldn't flag it down in time.") with an internal modem, and picked up a cellular phone at the electronics store next door. (She couldn't think of even a lame explanation for that.) Then she wandered around for a long time, looking for the right place to shop. PowerBooks were all right, cash in multitude was enjoyable, but when Elizabeth wanted to *really* shop, clothes were what she was after. She never had the time, money or figure to do so before, but having finished midterms, dropped thirty pounds and snagged Uncle's credit card, she was free, she was rich, she was Julia Roberts on Rodeo Drive. And she was also lost. ### THE LONE PACK by Patricia (Aerin) Hanson Time: Morning Place: Toronto Aerin spotted the warehouse down the street & started lookung for a place to park. She wondered if the street was always this crowded, considering it was Toronto, or if it was the large influx of Knighties due to the war. Knighties - they sounded like a bunch of women's sleepware. "Looks like Nick's got a lot of company on his hands," D.L. observed. "You think he'll be upset with us showing up on his doorstep?" "He'll probably be on duty, so he won't know we've been here until the morning," Lois replied. "I hope he doesn't get mad at me for losing Schanke. Maybe he'll think I did it on purpose being a cousin and all." "Who knows, let's go find out, he might be grateful he's not dead. At least we might be able to get him back from the abyss." Aerin pulled into a parking place that was just vacated by an old broken down VW. "Blue punch buggy, don't punch back." D.L looked at her like she'd just lost her mind. "What, you've never played that game? First you don't know what a pediddle is now a punch buggy. You have lived a very deprived life." "You're wierd, you know that?" "Yep, and don't you forget it. That's what makes me fun to be with." D.L. just grinned, used to Aerin's antics. Lois got out of the car to stretch her legs. Tyler thrust his nose over the seat to lick Aerin's ear, begging to be let out too. "You just had to bring along the dog didn't you?" "He was a good dog. Besides, I had to bring along someone who loved me. Isn't he cute?" Aerin got out to open Tyler's door. He jumped straight into her arms and started to wash her face. "There's a baby, you're just so cute. Oh yes you are. And you were the best passenger." "You know, you're not much of cousin. Who ever heard of a cuddly cousin?" Aerin frowned, "I know but Lacroix is the only one on the show I can respect." "What about Nick?" "He's so dense he makes gold seem bouyant." "Natalie?" "She puts up with Nick." "Tracy?" That didn't even deserve an answer. "Vachon?" "Who ever heard of a hero with split ends?" "Schanke?" "I lost him." "Reese?" "That brown noser, puh-leeze." "Janette?" " She put up with Nick." "Cohen?" "Maybe, if she ever learned how to use verbs." The other two grinned, unable to resist, "Schanke. Knight. My office. Now." All three smiled fondly in remembrance. At least until the noticed that Tyler was halfway through the door of the warehouse. "How'd he do that?" "Shelties are on of the smarter breeds of dogs." "Guess we have to go after him, eh?" "Let my poor baby go into a potential war zone all by himself? Not in this lifetime." "All right, let's go in after him.," D.L. said with a resigned shrug. ### HOW DO YOU SOLVE A PROBLEM LIKE AMY? by Susan M. Garrett Time: Morning Place: The Raven The bellow started Susan straight out of the lovely little dream she was having about upgrading her computer--she'd just managed to get all 32 meg running and the two gig hard drive was humming along. Unfortunately, she sat up quickly and bumped her head on the underside of the table top. Rubbing her head, Susan disentangled herself from the blankets and sat there a moment. She was in Janette's office, sleeping beneath a table she'd dragged in from the Raven. After all the going back and forth and vampires breaking in and out of the place all night, she'd decided that it might be better if the Ravenettes who wanted to moved into the Raven for the duration. They were scattered throughout the back rooms and Miklos had taken up semi-permanent residence in Janette's bedroom in her old flat, once it had been cleaned up and they'd installed a few deadbolts inside the door so he could protect himself from wandering Ravenettes. Shaking her head, she wondered what other protective measures she might be forced to take. Poor Miklos couldn't get a minute's peace--there was always someone hanging off him. It was interfering with his work. Unfortunately, he seemed to enjoy the situation. Maybe if she stashed a few more water pistols around the bar in strategic places . . . ? She'd found nothing as quick a damper on mortal puppy love than a squirt of cold water right in the kisser. That, of course, meant changing and reapplying makeup, and by the time the lovelorn in question was finished fussing and preening, they'd fallen completely out of their momentary lapse of judgment. "Miklos!" came the bellow again. The outraged and angered cry made Susan sit upright again, so she smacked her head once more. "Damn!" she muttered, crawling out from under the table. But it was while she was slipping into her big, woofly bathrobe that she realized--with a sudden chill--what that voice entailed. Could it be? Had the boss returned? Was Janette back in Toronto? Hurriedly, Susan ran out of the office and out toward the bar. No one else seemed to have awakened yet, but she heard vague stirrings as she passed various rooms. Once outside, she stopped dead in her tracks. It the boss . . . or the Boss' back. Her hair was up in a chignon and she was wearing that red velvet number with the straps. Susan blinked and took a step forward. "Boss?" she asked softly. "There you are!" But it the Boss. Oh, sure, it was the Boss' attitude and hair style and dress . . . but the body inside was Nat Packer Amy Hull. She pointed at a line of glasses on the bar top. "There a war on, isn't there?" asked Amy, voice dripping with disdain. "You may ask how I could tell--I couldn't miss glasses glued to my bar and shelves. Someone pay for this." Susan walked over to the bar and sat down on a stool. She tried to lift one of the glasses--Amy was right, it was stuck square in place. "Damn. Not the Knighties, cause they usually end up breaking glass if they're anywhere near it. And the FoD's would mess with anything related to food. Probably the Cousins. Unless--" She glared at Amy. "What the hell are you guys playing it? You're not equipped to start a war. It's just not part of the Nat Pack ." "," corrected Amy sharply. She leaned her elbow on the bar and pulled an empty ashtray over to herself. "What about the Nat Pack?" "Joke's over." Susan rose from the bar stool and turned up her glare a notch. "Just because the Boss is gone, you don't have to rub it in. You know, that was some mean stuff you pulled, but this has got to be the cruelest--" "But I'm not --I'm right here.," Amy said evenly. With a slight smile, she picked up a packet of cigarettes from the bar and eyed them. "This isn't my brand--Tara's, I assume?" Susan watched in wonder as Amy lit the cigarette with far more grace and elegance than should be expected from a non-smoker, and a smoke-allergic non-smoker at that. "I don't think you should--?" "What? Smoke so early in the morning?" Amy simply smiled. "You forget--our schedules are different. This would be the equivalent of your late evening." The cigarette went to her lips. She took a puff-- And then began to cough, violently. "Watch out!" Susan ran forward, put one foot on the stool and scrambled over the bar (taking some glued glassware with her). She stamped on the fallen cigarette before it could burn the floor or Amy, then took the bowl from one of the broken wine glasses, put water in it, and force-fed the Nat-Packer. Amy sputtered for a second, still coughing, then got a sip or two of water. She pushed Susan and the glass away. "What are you doing?" "Are you nuts? You know what smoke does to you--it's like Superman and kryptonite. Amy, I don't know what the hell you're playing at, but this has gone way too far--" "I am Amy." Susan stared as Amy spoke, enough of the inflection coming through. Amy wiped the ash from her dress in a very un-Amy-like fashion, then put down the broken glass. There was a slight line of blood on her palm, where the broken edge of the glass had cut her and Amy licked it delicately, almost . . . . Hungrily. "What's wrong with you?" asked Amy, staring at Susan, who was well aware she'd passed the point of pale a while back. "Where's Miklos? This place is a wreck! I'll have Alma's hide for leaving dirty ashtrays out." She pushed aside a pack of cigarettes. "Filthy habit! Perhaps I'll give it up, make the place non-smoking." Susan swallowed, suddenly becoming very, very frightened. It was Amy, but Amy was acting like Janette and doing very un-Amy types of things. She knew very well what that meant. "Have you, uh, seen any vampires lately?" asked Susan, in a very small voice. Amy smiled, one of those 'you're an idiot but I'll humor you' smiles Janette was so good with. "Every time I don't look in a mirror." "I mean--" Susan swallowed nervously. "I mean, have you seen anyone else, any other vampires? Like Nick? Or LaCroix?" "No." Amy pouted and turned away, running her hand down the length of glasses glued to the bar. "I haven't seen Nicola in ages. As for LaCroix--" There was a growl to her voice as she turned, "I think I want to have a word with him about what he's done to club." "Oh, good heavens," muttered Susan. She walked around the bar and pulled up a stool, then sat down on it heavily. "You've been hoodoed." Amy followed her and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Are you well? You look as if you're about to faint." "I'm about to be royally ill, is what I'm about to be," answered Susan. She looked over at Amy. "And you think you're Janette?" Amy pulled herself up to her full height and stared down at Susan regally. "Have you lost your senses? I know who I am." "That's it," agreed Susan. "I've lost my mind." She rubbed her hand over her face. "At least it wasn't me this time." "It's all this war business," said Amy almost kindly. She quickly lifted her hand from Susan's shoulder and took a step away. "Perhaps you should lie down." "I should. But I can't. Not--not right now." Susan took a deep breath--God, she hated making it up as she went along. "You see, we think you're in danger." "?" asked Amy, eyes widening slightly. "How could I be in danger?" "Someone's stalking Janette--uh--." Susan slipped off the bar stool. "That's why we've got so many Ravenettes here, we need to keep an eye on you. Look, I'll go get Miklos and he'll explain it. Just, stay right here, okay? Don't move. I'll be right back." Turning tail, Susan ran into the back rooms and headed up the stairs. The door to Miklos' room was closed and dead-bolted--although she noted a few scratches on the exterior lock, indicating that there were probably still a few Ravenettes in serious need of hosing down. Rapping hard, Susan called, "Miklos! Get up. It's me. And we've got trouble." Susan pressed her ear to the door and heard nothing, so she started pounding again. God, these vampires slept like the dead! A few seconds later, she heard the scraping of the deadbolt. The room was pitch black, but she saw the security chain gleam in the hallway light as the door was opened slightly. "Yes?" "Miklos, we've got trouble. Someone hoodoed Amy Hull and now she thinks she's Janette." There was a pause. "Amy--?" His brain cells weren't up yet. She hoped his had a better kick-start ratio than Nick's--she needed him on a fast burn, full throttle, ! "The Nat Packer? Looks like the Boss?" "Oh. one." The door closed, the chain scraped out of the lock, then the door opened again. Miklos stepped into the hallway wearing a long striped nightshirt and Mickey Mouse slippers. "Where is she?" For a moment, Susan was fixated on the slippers. She looked up at him, trying to keep a straight face. "They were a gift," he said defensively. "Something to do with this 'Miki' thing." "I'll bet." Then she grabbed his arm and led him downstairs. "You have to un-hoodoo her or we're in big trouble." By the time they'd reached downstairs, Amy had swept up most of the glass behind the bar--very un-Janette-like, but old habits die hard. "How did you let this happen?" she accused, catching sight of Miklos. Then her eyes narrowed. "And are you wearing on your feet?" "I told him there was glass down here." said Susan quickly. Catching Amy's arm, she steered her to a stool. "Boss, I think there's something in your eye. Miklos--come take a look. I don't have that nifty vampire-eyesight like y'all." Miklos walked over obediently. As he passed, Susan asked softly, "Can you tell who did it to her?" "I may," he whispered. "It's very much like a signature." He placed one hand on Amy's bare shoulder, after getting her approval, then looked into her eyes. Susan closed her own eyes and put her hands over her ears--after being hypnotized left, right and center, the thought of hoodoo made her queasy. Besides which, she seemed very susceptible to that sort of thing and the last thing she needed was to be hoodoed into think she was Amy. A loud bang and a thump made her open her eyes. Miklos was sitting on the floor and Amy was barely holding a barstool over him--the weight of it eventually swung it to one side and caused it to drop to the floor. "Sorry, Boss," said Susan quickly, getting between Amy and Miklos (Amy seemed pretty intent on kicking Miklos in the ribs . . . or somewhere more vital). "We just had to check that you hadn't been tampered with. I told you, there's some funny stuff going around. You sort of just dropped in on us and--do remember where you were, before you got here?" "I'm always here," said Amy quickly. "This is club." "But you sold it to LaCroix, remember," pressed Susan. She advanced on Amy, making her move back and away from Miklos. "You went away." "I sold--yes, I did." Amy blinked. "I woke up in a booth an hour ago. I'd had . . . too much to drink." She leaned back on the bar and closed her eyes, as if thinking so hard was hurting her. "You need a nap." "I . . . do. Yes." Amy straightened and shot her a quick glare. "I'm going to bed. Clean this up--I want the bar spotless when I wake. And have Miklos help you." Susan watched as Amy turned in a very un-Amy like fashion and stormed up the stairs. She leaned down and offered Miklos a hand up. He took her hand, then dusted himself off. "She may think she's a vampire, but she doesn't have the strength of one--if that had been Janette, I would have been across the room." "Who hoodoed her? Can you undo it?" Miklos shook his head and picked up the overturned bar stool. "I don't know who mesmerized her--the signature's not familiar. I don't think it was Nick. And I can't seem to get through to her. As long as she's Janette, she thinks she's a vampire, which means she thinks she's immune to being hypnotized--" "So she can't be 'un' hypnotized?" Susan sighed. "Aw, great." Seating herself on the bar stool, she looked up at him sadly. "Well, let me work on it a while. I can't give her back to the Nat Pack like this because they'll think did it to her. It's not wise to incur that kind of unwarranted karma in war time." "I'm going back to bed," announced Miklos. "Um--wait!" He paused when Susan called to him and she gestured upstairs. "Methinks the lady has taken your sleeping quarters. I don't know--I don't to know--what kind of relationship you had with Janette, but if Amy thinks there was something going on between you two . . . ?" Miklos frowned. "Then where am I supposed to sleep?" "There's a nice spot under a table in Janette's office that isn't being used right now." He glared for a moment, then sighed. "All right." Susan watched him leave (he really look cute with those mouse slippers), then leaned her head on the bar. Morning wasn't her best time for thinking, but she had to come up with something. When the Ravenettes awoke, and before Amy came to, they'd have to have a war council n what to do with a hoodoed Nat Packer who thought she was the most stylish vampire club owner in Toronto. ### FOSSILS TO THE RESCUE by "Angus Midhir" Time: Morning Place: Brandon My name is Angus Midhir. It's a good name. In fact, Its a better name than my two-legs Kimberley knows. She named me Midhir because it was the name of a fairy lord in Celtic legend. She thought it was cute the way I talked to and played with people who _she_ thought weren't there. So I have to work on her a bit. Why is it such a good name? It all has to do with the fact that _I_ don't have direct access to my two-legs' e-mail account. Its based at the university and I'm stuck eight blocks away. But there's power in names. I give my messages to my friends, they send it up on of the trees outside the Brodie Building and to the elves who live in the organic lab. (At least she's starting to acknowledge their existance.) They then take my message down to the Folk on the basement computer labs. (She believed in those guys a couple of days after she got her computer account.) They get my messages across. They have to. I told you there was power in names. I can get help whenever and where-ever I want. Not a bad trick for a kitten to have. Yes, I'm a kitten. So how did I become a FOSsiL? Through Halloween. He's my hero. Next to Sydney, of course. He had my two-legs before she came to university and now he's claimed ownership of her parents. He got in touch with me just after I moved in with Kimberley. Through e-mail. I asked him how he did it. He just said, "Strange things happen around Halloween." But now I have a problem. Sydney had dissappeared and my two-legs had gone off to Ballymoresk without me. Now I have to find my own way there. WEll, _someone_ has to rescue Sydney and I'm surely not going to leave it up to those two-legs! They couldn't keep him in the first place! Halloween can find his own way there but how an _I_ going to get there. No one travels between Samhain and Beltane. Except.... Someone has to be coming from that Vancouver place back to Toronto after the Harvest Fair! I can probably travel with them! Now where's a hob when you need one. *Hob! *HOB! *Good. Your here. Is there anyone coming in throught to Ballymoresk today? Good. Can you get me an introduction and an invitation to travel with them? Thankyou. Tell them I'll join them soon. *And two more things. See that note on the table? Forge the handwriting and add, "PS. I know you're planning to go home this weekend so I'm taking Angus with me." I know it's difficult. But you're a hob. You can handle it. *And take my bowls and food and hide them in the first bedroom's closet. Perfect.* *** Place: Toronto (outside Nat's apartment) Where is he? The Folk have brought me to Sydney's place but Halloween hasn't shown up yet. I don't like being all by myself in a place this big. I'm small. I could get stepped on! And I still haveb't grown into my collar. What if it falls off? No one will know who I am or how to contact Kimberley or DD! *What's the matter Kitten?* *Halloween! Your here! I thought you'd never show up!* *Well, I'm here. What have you found out?* *See that guy over in that tree? He's on the second branch on the left, wearing a lot of brown but with a red hat?* *No.* *Oh. This could be a problem. I wonder what you'd look like in a red hat. If we could get the hob to give his up. Then there's the problem of getting it to stay on your head. Maybe he could sew on ties or an elastic or something...* *MIDHIR! About Sydney?* *Oh, yeah. Well, that guy-you-can't-see said that a few days ago, just after Samhain, the woman-who-lives-here came out with the cat-who-lives-here and gave the cat, that's Sydney* *I realize that.* *Yes, well, she gave Sydney to a dark-haired, female visitor who hasn't been back since.* *So we have no idea where Sydney is.* *Yes we do. Y'see, _Sydney_ can see that guy up in the tree. In fact, they're friends. So when the visitor took Sydney away, he followed. So, if you're polite and don't make to big a deal about not being abe to see him, Toggle's going to take us right to Sydney.* *Toggle?* ### DEVIL WITH THE DEED by Cousin Zillah with thanks to Toni C. Holm Time: Morning Place: Zillah's room In which our hero decides on a change of living arrangements, the dead provide the means to an end, and decisions concerning deeds are pondered. ------------------------------------------------------------ Consciousness came slowly. That was as it should be. He didn't like mornings. The only thing he liked about mornings at all was being able to mention in great detail that he didn't like them. He liked that and sleeping through most of them. He sat up slowly, his legs and lower back complaining from the movement. overworked calves stretched and relaxed in an effort to loosen the tension and bring a little relief. It helped. A hot bath and he would be good as new. First, room service would be nice. "Hello, yes. This is Hunter Rose in room 666. I'd like the breakfast special with the eggs scrambled, toast with grape jelly, ham, and orange juice. Yes, and pepsi. A six pack, if you have that available. Fine, thank you." Zillah put the phone back in the cradle and stood up. He smiled at the thought of passing himself off as a comic book character, particularly one with this much style. True, it wasn't a child's comic... it had been dark and full of violence, and the "hero" had been a criminal of the highest order. But Grendel had been a tragic figure, brought down by his only act of kindness and his mortal enemy Argent the Wolf. The story had epic proportions... a myth for the 90's generation. Maybe. He also acknowledged that he was a romantic at heart too. He grinned a boyish grin. The food arrived, was consumed, and the remains carted away with quiet efficiency. A long soak in the whirlpool bath wiped away the memory of pain. Clean clothes put on. Black. That much was still necessary... who knew what today would bring. He sat in front of the plate glass in a red plush victorian chair, feet propped on an oak coffee table polished to a high gloss. He read the deed for the Raven, occasionally looking out over the Canadian skyline. He couldn't really make any sense of it, with it's twisted language and jargon. It could be a fake for all he knew. He folded it and put it away, pondering it. What to do with it? His first impulse was to give it to Uncle. Why not? It was rightfully his. Maybe he could get him to bring him across in exchange. Probably not, it didn't really sound like LaCroix, but who knows. Maybe he'd just lose the deed and see what happened. That could be fun too. A sly smile spread over his features. Maybe he'd sell the Raven to the "Hooters" chain where busty scantily clad coeds served cheap appetizers to drunk heterosexual men. He thought of bottle blond sex kittens wearing tee-shirts cut down into halter tops serving chicken tenders to beer guzzling college guys. He thought of the cheap sex and the gaudy atmosphere. Then he stopped. Who would notice the difference? In his mind he heard LaCroix shout over and over "Let's get naked" and he shuddered. One thing for certain, he'd have to decide soon. The room was being funded via computer transfer from a mastercard belonging to a dead man. All meals and expenses were automatically charged and the funds transfered... but the card would be cancelled at some point. It would be best if he were out of the room before that happened. Acknowledgments: All thanks to Matt Wagner for the loan of his character "Grendel/Hunter Rose" which appeared as a "Grendel" comic published by ComiCo. ### SURPRISE, AMY!!! by Felicia Bollin, through contact with the Ravenettes/NatPack Time: Noon Place: Toronto "What a lousy assignment," Urs thought, poised to take flight. The Ravenettes had sent her off on a "special mission", and since they had been nice enough to save her from what looked like a lifetime of degradation spent as a stripper ("Janette would have done just the same," that nice Susan Garrett had assured her. This Janette sounded like her kind of vampire) and given her a new lease on her unlife as lead singer for the new Raven band, she had acquiesced with pleasure. But she didn't understand the first thing about what they wanted her to do, or the concept of this whole "war" thing. Javier was off somewhere with the cow people, and frankly, she couldn't have cared less at the time. A girl had to eat, after all. "I can't always be where you expect me to be, Javier Vachon!" she yelled angrily, through the threads of their connection. She got no response. "If that's how much he cares about me, then to hell with him," she thought again. "One hundred and fifty years of playing Wendy to the little Lost Boys there, and he can't even take the time to let me know where he goes or who he's with! Not even Screed respects me!" Vampires got quite used to having conversations in the form of interior monologues. No, Susan had taken her under their wing for this Janette's sake, declaring her an honorary Ravenette sympathizer, and if there was one thing Urs knew Javier respected, it was honor. As a matter of fact, he could be downright tiresome at times, droning on for long bloodlaced marathons about the concept. She'd show him she could be at least as honorable as he could. Besides, that mortal policewoman was trouble enough for a girl to have to handle, she hadn't liked the way Javier had looked at that Torrey person one bit. "Men!" she humphed aloud. Sailing off in a perfect takeoff, the fairly young vampire headed for the campus of Toronto University. "You're looking for a young man.... " the missive had begun. Urs had, of course, memorized it. She was no fool. And if there was anything about the vampire lifestyle she excelled in, it was hypnosis. + + + + (around half an hour later) Ari looked furtively down the hall. "Come on guys, coast is clear so far. Ugh, I still can't believe you talked me into buying this camouflage sweatsuit, Chanda. You know all the colors that don't look good on blondes? Well, they're all in here." "Yeah, but it could be worse," Chanda suggested. "Sure. Orange," said Ari succinctly. This was supposed to be a sober occasion, but she was still buoyed up by her earlier conversation with Miklos--- while Susan and Vicki went through the closing drill at the Raven, she had had him all to herself for a glorious forty-five minutes. Of course, she would still rather, she admitted shamefully, spend some time with Nick, but there was just... something about Miklos. He was just so delightfully.... *gloomy*. And just imagine; he had told her he held a degree in theoretical astrophysics! Wouldn't Ravenette Kathy be pleased! Of course, she knew Miklos' heart (at the rare times it beat), beat only for Tara--- they did have that special relationship, after all. But that was all right, she only wanted to be able to... borrow him, for the odd hour here and there. In the extremely doubtful event that each and every one of the other Ravenettes got too cheery about the new season. Hey, you never knew. "Guys, remember why we're here," David Dean hissed. "We're here to move in, deliver, and move out, not discuss fashion." He was in charge of the envelope, black with red sealing wax (Ari's) and the handy Raven seal found in an earlier shopping spree (Lorelei). They had chosen him because the scarcity of male Ravens (not quite as scarce as male Natpackers, but almost) would make him less conspicuous if seen, and because Catherine had felt a sudden undeniable urge to sit in the suite alone and get her Yo La Tengo fix for the day. Because Ari often had urges to spend an hour a day alone communing with herself or risk going nuts, she understood completely. Besides, the fifth was Chanda's birthday, and they didn't think there was a way to make mj inconspicuous if they tried, so David was the obvious choice. "All right." Ari gave one last furtive look both ways and whispered, "Now!" David strode quickly forward with the letter in his hands and thrust it under the door. Shouts in the general vein of 'Hey, what just came in underneath the door?" rang out. David scurried back and he, Chanda, and Ari flattened themselves against the wall, not daring to look. The door creaked open, and the Natpacker in question apparently looked both ways. Another voice, higher and piping. "Hey guys, there's a Raven seal on the back. Break it and see what it says!" Ari, Chanda, and David weren't vampires, but the words on the letter, written in white type on black paper in careful script, were burned into their brains due to the hundreds of rewrites it had undergone along the way. Ari mouthed the words along with the NatPacker: Dear Amy Hull and the NatPack, In retaliation for certain unsavory actions taken upon defenseless, unprovoked Ravenettes (Heather Parks and Tara O'Shea, by name), we the Ravenettes have implemented a contingency plan: As a result of the University of Toronto-sponsored symposium, "Deafness and Political Correctness", a young man very important in NatPacker Amy Hull's life is currently attending as weekend interpreter. We have sent a vampire emissary to introduce Ms. Hull's beloved Jody to Ms. Hull's replacement (who happens to resemble Ms. Hull to a shocking, yea almost interchangeable, degree, you may remember). The talented vampire emissary has already succeeded in hypnotising Ms. Hull's significant other. As of this moment, Ms. Hull's love is touring Toronto with said replacement in full belief that she *is* Ms. Hull. Either the NatPack sees fit to return Heather Parks' wardrobe, or heavens, who knows what Ms. Hull's replacement might do to (or with) this poor young man? Certainly not the Ravenettes. (And in case Ms. Hull is thinking of showing up on campus and trying to "convince" him of his mistake, we must warn you: We have increased the resemblance by dint of instructing said actress to dress exclusively in tent/peasant/oversized denim dresses and to eat only one meal a day: namely, a single peanut-butter granola bar topped with three scoops of chocolate ice cream. We mean business.) If you return Ravenette Heather's wardrobe, we will have our vampire emissary de-hypnotize Jody. Sincerely, An Unkindness of Ravens p.s. Ravenette Tara would like a carton of her favorite brand of cigarettes as well. We're sure at least one of your number knows the kind of which we speak. ### TAKE ME OUT TO THE BALL GAME... by Catherine Boone Time: Midday Place: Nick's loft Catherine wrenched open the elevator doors and dragged herself into the loft. All the other Knighties were out and about, doing their own little dastardly deeds, but she was beat. Sleep was the only alternative to total and immediate body shutdown, standing or no. Nick had the right idea, and was out cold on the couch. Probably figured it was safe to hit the couch since everyone was gone for the day. Personally, Catherine didn't quite understand people who preferred sleeping on couches to beds, but Nick was by far not the first to do so in her experience, so she just shrugged and found her corner of floor, on one of the few mattresses in the room. She crawled into her blanket, wrapping herself up tight. She sighed in contentment and settled in for a long nap. Just then, a particularly loud and noisy truck decided to roll by. Catherine propped open one eye for a moment in annoyance, then snuggled in closer. Another truck rolled by. This time she attempted to ignore it completely. And another. She winced, and pulled the covers over her head. And another. "God!" Catherine burst out from her covers and, careful not to wake Nick, padded over to the window. "What could they be doing out there, moving Toronto Stadium brick by brick?" She winced at the unintended pun, and peeked out the shuttered window. There was nothing there. Then she heard the rumbling again, like a heavily-burdened truck going by. But this time, it was coming from the other side of the room. Wide-eyed, Catherine crept slowly up to the couch, and stood over it. She caught the sound again. Nick was snoring. No, actually, snoring was a bad word. Nick was re-creating the Northridge earthquake in his nasal passages. Catherine couldn't help but stare in morbid fascination. "Good god..." (No. No! I am *not* going to laugh! I'm not! I'm NOT!) Nick snored again, and the window frames vibrated very, very softly. Catherine clapped a hand over her mouth, bolted up the stairs and managed to get the door to Nick's room closed before she fell down and laughed fit to tears... When she had laughed herself out (which took surprisingly long, considering she started up all over again, every time Nick inhaled, for a good ten minutes), Catherine wondered what to do. There was no way she was going to be able to get to sleep with that racket. "Well, there's always poking him into rolling over..." But wait. Catherine, being a good little vampire fan, knew her Rice, and that baaaad things happened to people who woke up vampires, even normally friendly ones. That whole lethal instinct thing was something she just did not want to see in action. (Oookay. Alternatives?) She eyed all the pillows and stuffed animals scattered over the room, and grinned. She tiptoed downstairs, and collected as many as her arms could carry, then walked back up the stairs, and peered over the railing. (Well, I'm no major league, but here goes nothing! Bombs away!) She began bombarding the couch with pillows in an effort to wake Nick up. Unfortunately, not only was she not major league, but Catherine also didn't have her contacts in, so only one teddy bear even hit the couch, and that just hit the arm, nowhere near Nick. She pouted for a moment, but only a moment. This was far too much fun. She ran back downstairs for more ammunition, giggling softly all the way. (Okay, it's the bottom of the ninth, the Indians are tied with the Jays, they bring Lacroix up to bat. The catcher signals for her to bean him with a fastball, right on the honker.) Catherine smiled grimly. (It's a dirty job...) She wound up, tiny stuffed elephant firmly in hand. She could hear the crowd roaring in the distance, see the Cousins taking long leads off of first and second bases. But all her attention was fixed solely on Lacroix's sneering face, as if daring her. Taunting her. She launched the elephant with all her might, the bells tied around its neck jangling wildly. Yup. You guessed it. Right on the honker. "And the crowd goes wild!!" All her cautions forgotten, Catherine danced around while a very sleepy, very confused, and generally very non-lethal vampire groggily opened his eyes. "Cathrn? Wattr yu doin?" Oh, yeah. Nick was supposed to wake up when she did that, wasn't he? Catherine crossed her arms in front of her chest and managed to look exasperated. "Nick, did you know you snore like an air raid siren in heat?" Exotic analogies. Never fails to wake people up, if only to figure out how to respond to what you just said. Nick's eyes shot open. "What?!" "Nick, I'm sorry! I just didn't realize you guys flew by use of jet engines on your face!" "WHAT?!" "Come on, Nick, I know you just woke up, but let's try to be original here. Don't make me come down there and make up your retorts for you. You *know* how much fun I would have with that." "I'll show you retorts!" Nick chucked the elephant back at her. Then another, and another. "Hey! Hey!!! No fair! You can see better! Aaaaaa!!" Catherine dove for cover in Nick's bedroom against a flurry of stuffed animals and pillows. And realized her good fortune. "Oooh! Satin sheets! All *mine*!" "NO!! No sleeping in my bed!" Nick was there in a heartbeat. "Out out out!" "Ha! Made ya look! The couch is mine!" She bolted out the door, but Nick was already lying on it before she got to the top of the stairs. She pouted, "That is *so* unfair! You know I can't fly!" (Whoever catches the reference is a closet Knightie, I don't care *what* y'all say. :) But Nick was still pretending to be asleep. So she came down and curled back up for her long awaited sleepytime. And if Nick beaned Catherine in the back of the head with a fluorescent rhino, she didn't notice at all. And if Catherine stuck her tongue out at Nick, he didn't have his eyes open to check. Much. ### BUTTONS, BUTTONS, EVERYWHERE-- (b) by Partly Time: 1pm Place: Airport Partly was waiting at the airport when the small plane she had charted arrived. She stood by the hood of her car, the cold wind blowing her new leather duster and the scream of the jets pounding in her ears. She grinned. God, this is fun. She couldn't wait to see her friends' faces when they got off. She didn't have to wait long. "What the hell is going on here?" Robin was the first one off the plane. Ray followed. "I just needed a little reinforcements that's all." Partly answered. "Did you stop and place the bet like I asked?" Ray gave her a disgusted look. "How did you know he was going to win? He went off at 40 to 1. The guy who took the bet just about died when I came back with the ticket." She handed Partly an envelope. "It's all in the name," Partly answered. "Come on, get in the car before we all freeze. I just have to let the pilot know that you're flying back later tonight. Oh, and I've got to pay him." She waved the envelope of money at them, and walked over to the plane. Ray and Robin just exchanged puzzled looks. "If you ask me," Ray said, "Tracer Bullet is the stupidest name for a horse I ever heard." They climbed in the car. A half hour later they were seated in Partly's hotel room, drinking coke and catching up in the war. Finally Partly, pulled out a bag of buttons and showed them off. Each button proudly sported a bright, yellow smiley face. When she dumper a handful of them on the table, they were disturbingly cheerful. "Well, what do you think?" She prompted. Robin found her voice first. "They're hideous." Partly nodded. "I wanted to have them say 'Have a Nice Day', but the buttons were too small." "Thank God for small favors. What do you plan on doing with them?" "I'm going to give them away." "You want us to put them in the cars like they did to you?" "No, I want to spread them out more than that. I want one in every pocket, every purse. I want them mixed in with loose change, put in coffee cups, drawers, dropped in jewelry boxes. I want *one* button *everywhere*. I want *everyone* to get some. I just want them spread out. I figure, at first they'll just ignore them, but after a while..." She grinned. "After a while, they'll get *really* annoying." Robin filled in. "That's my goal. I figure that you two are unknowns and will have the best chance to walk around without being hassled. Do you think you can help me? I'll buy dinner after we're done. In the tower?" Robin shrugged. "What the hell. With my new job starting, it'll be the only time I can get in the war. I'll do it." Ray nodded. "If you need my help, I'll be glad to do it." "Good." Partly stood. "I rented cars for you both, they are parked on the street. Each one has twenty bags of buttons in it. I have more if you need them. Here's a list of people, their factions and where I think you can find them. Please note that the people circled in red have been unnecessarily nasty as of late and the one in blue are friendlies. Distribute buttons accordingly." "There seems to be a lot more red than blue." Ray commented. "Why do you think I'm a one-woman faction?" She held up her hand to stop any comments. "Wait, forget I asked that. Let's go." ### RAVENS AND MERCS GO SHOPPING! HIDE THE CATS, ER, VALUABLES! by Felicia, Maureen the Merc, Raven Cynthia, Legal Counsel Vicki, and assorted others Time: 2pm EST Place: Toronto "Oh, I'm so totally confused!" Ari groaned to herself, pushing hands through her hair till it all but resembled Janette's on a bad day. She was starting to totally lose all chronological grip on this War. And where on earth was the anticipated defensive move from the Nick&Natpack? It was really starting to worry her. It meant either one of two things: the Nick&Natpack was planning something really terrifying and gory--- or; they were tacitly conceding the current skirmish to the Immortal Beloveds. Which would be more than fine with them. They had been strangely quiet almost all war--- what could it mean? Nothing good to be sure..... They had all been so busy that it was extremely much like "hi/ bye" between them, and Urs was also putting in all these extra hours with the band. Ari would hate to lose her in the shuffle--- she could be damn entertaining. With a few occasional exceptions, it seemed as though Tara, Catherine, and herself were the only ones who actually really *liked* Urs. Quite a few members of the other factions were nice to her only when they wanted something, and Ari had a feeling Urs had heard so much of that particular song during her relatively short un-life from "the boys" that such tactics probably left her stone cold. "Chanda!" Ari bellowed, thumping on the tabletop. A tinny sound emitted from the headphones as Chanda tried to simultaneously listen to country music and work on more of the Nick-to-Janette French composition. "What?" Chanda mouthed, leaning out from under the table. "Time for your birthday present!" Despite having been born in Buffalo, Ari knew very little about Toronto, and didn't have the time right now to find out. But surely it was safe to postulate that Eaton Centre had a pet store. Today was Chanda's twentieth birthday, a milestone if ever there was one, and Ari wasn't going to let it go unnoticed. "Maureen's gonna be here any second, and we don't want someone mistaking her for a working Merc and taking a pot shot. Have you done any more looking through "Cat Fancier" to see what kind you might like?" "A black one," Chanda pronounced definitely. "All cats are *not* black after midnight. Infinite variety..." Catherine murmured from her napping position. Ari rolled her eyes. Hanging out with Cousin Jamie was certainly improving Catherine's science fiction quote stash. "Wake up, Sleeping Beauty, the stores await." Ari whipped the covers off from Catherine's head. "Come on, it's not that cold in here. We put insulation in." "Go *way!" Catherine punctuated this statement with a very definite thump of the pillow, throwing an arm grandly over her face. Vicki tried to coax her into wakefulness by by reciting a long boring lecture on the true meaning of the Rule Against Shelley's Case, then moving on to the joys of The Rule Against Perpetuities as Catherine shuddered down to her very marrow. While this technique would have put a normal person to sleep, on Catherine it had the effect of fingernails on a blackboard. She reluctantly abandoned her pillow. "Come on, time's a-wasting. Before I forget, Chanda---" Ari whipped around, "you are NOT to let the cat run free throughout the Raven unless you want Tara in allergic torment. Kittycat stays in the wine cellar. At least until Tuesday's party is over." When Chanda made a faint sound of protest, she overruled it. "Nope, not until after the party. Because if you keep her up here on Tuesday night, then Tara will start sneezing like a fiend, and then she'll have to go lie down in Janette's apartment, and *then* we won't be able to do the *you-know-what* in the apartment." Chanda felt a definite thrill run up and down her back every time she heard those words. "Do you really think it'll work?" "Well, we'll see, won't we. Cynthia, Vicki, you ready?" "I still don't understand why you don't want an Abyssinian," Cynthia declared as they walked out the fire door and let it swing shut, waving goodbye to everyone. "I wouldn't be caught dead with any other kind of cat. *None*. If you had one, you'd see how fun they are, Chanda. It doesn't matter how old they get; they're like having a perpetual kitten around!" Maureen joined them, waving a white handkerchief jokingly in the air. "I come in peace!" she called. "You'd better. No one would be evil enough to use a cat shopping trip as a weapon." Chanda wished violently for a steaming mug of tea to wrap her hands around. No way did it get this cold in Tennessee. She wasn't even sure it got this cold *anywhere* other than in Toronto. Oblivious to the extremely attractive picture they made, the women squeezed into the bus, chattering all the way. There it was-- the Eaton Pet Emporium. Two floors' worth of things that crept, swam, flew, undulated, and slunk on their stomachs (remarkably like LaCroix, said Catherine, studying the Gaboon viper, as Vicki shushed her with a warning finger to the lips). But the girls truly had eyes only for the feline section. With 'oohs' and 'ahs' worthy of the Natpack discovering frogs, they began making fools of themselves leaning against the wire doors and crooning. "Oh! How darling!" Chanda admired a little black puffball of a thing that sat grooming itself. Cynthia wrinkled up her nose. "No way, you'll get The Hairballs From Hell with that albeit adorable little guy." "Oh, but long-haired kitties are the greatest!" Vicki commented. "Guy?" Chanda asked, her face falling in disappointment as Cynthia and Vicki both nodded. "Okay, that settles it. I want a girl." "She wants to name it after Janette," Ari confided. "I told you, Chanda, if that's the case, you don't want a black cat. You need an Abyssinian. Why, even Janette couldn't fail to be impressed by their provenance," Cynthia said persuasively. "Did you know they were the kind of cats the Egyptians put on their tombs to guard them? Why, they're royal. And you have to admit, knowing Janette, I'm sure she's had the Cleopatra fantasy more than once in her un-life." The females nodded wisely. Chanda looked temporarily uncertain. Maureen took advantage of that moment to plug *her* choice. "Listen to me guys, you want a Siamese. You see," she warmed to her topic, "one of their qualities makes them perfectly suited to be the Raven mascot. The great thing about them is; they're actually *bred* to attack!" "G'wan!" Vicki said with arms folded across her chest, a lawyerly eyebrow raised skeptically. "No, really! They were harem guards..." Chanda snickered, "Does that mean they were eunuchs?" Maureen continued, "The doors into the harems were constructed so that you had to bend over to pass through them," bending over to demonstrate, "and the cats would sit on perches above the door on the other side. If someone that they didn't recognize came through the door, the cats would pounce." Maureen started to straighten up when there was a flash of fur from the open cage beside her, and suddenly there was a cat on her back. Maureen went "erp!" and tried to stand up straight, but when the cat felt itself start to unbalance, it dug its claws in, effectively stopping the mercenary in her tracks. "Hey, cat! Get off!" Maureen tried to shake the cat off, but it just dug its claws in deeper. She stopped trying to rid herself of the creature with a wince of pain. "Hey, guys, take the cat off me, will you?" The sound of laughter made her look up, to see her fellow shoppers doubled over in hilarity. "Guys! C'mon! Guys?" she thought as she felt some warning twinges from her lower back. "If I throw my back out, and wind up in traction, *you're* paying for the hospital bill! Help! Someone help me..." "Stop wiggling, Maureen. You'll hurt the cat," someone with a familiar voice protested. Much to their shock/ merriment, when the listmembers turned, it was Alikhat! Laughing almost too hard at ths new development to be of any use, Catherine and Vicki rushed forward and attempted to pry the cat off Maureen's back. "Oh, where's a camera when you need one," laughed Ari, holding her stomach. "Oh man, if we had photographic evidence, they'd throw you out of the Guild, Maureen! We'd have favors coming to us for the next two Wars! Hey Chanda, where's that Fun-Saver you tucked in your bag for taking party candids?" "I think I left it back at the house. No wait a minute..." Chanda rummaged through her satchel as Maureen's voice rose from a plaintive wail to an out-and-out shriek. Vicki, Catherine, herself, and the cat resembled some exotic beast of burden long since extinct as they tried to extract the cat's claws without all falling onto the floor. If they had been paying attention, they would have heard Cynthia, leaning against the wall and watching all the hilarity with a jaundiced eye. "I *still* can't figure out why anyone would want a black cat when they could have an Egyptian Goddess cat," she muttered, shaking her head. "Listmembers." By the time they had managed to extricate the very persistent cat's claws from Maureen's back, a swarm of other kitties had escaped from the communal cage. So they were all having a darn fine time scampering around, crawling into small spaces underneath furniture, and calling to each other. The cats weren't having such a bad time either. The pet store owner had some very choice words for them as he eventually wandered over and chased cats as well; in response to said phrases, Ari had first turned slightly pale with shock, then drawn herself up imperiously and tried to use hypnosis to suggest that he just forget the whole thing. Unfortunately, it just didn't pack the same wallop it had had when Miklos was doing the demonstration, so they had to retrieve each and every one of the kitties. "I can't understand it!" Ari muttered to Catherine as soon as she could manage to sidle somewhere into her vicinity under the shopkeeper's watchful Simon Legree eyes. "It worked like a charm when Miklos was showing me! I had him under in twenty seconds!" Catherine smothered a small smile. "I think he was probably pretending to make you feel---" she thought of saying "better", then switched it hastily to "powerful. After all, he *is* the vampire, you know. You haven't had nearly as much practice," she comforted. "That's so endearing," Ari said, touched. "I must remember to tell Janette if she shows up. She can give him a raise." Catherine sighed, lifting eyes to the heavens. Then, she smiled. "Felicia?" she asked in a low voice, nudging her. Ari was almost too busy watching Cynthia surreptitiously trying to sneak into the back room with the tiny Aby kitten she held to notice this shocking slip of the tongue. She turned. Catherine was smiling. "I think Chanda's found her cat." Ari turned. Chanda was crouched down by the cage, staring in almost mesmerized fashion at the one cat who was patiently remaining in position, not the least bit seduced by the open doorway and the promise of freedom. She propped her chin on both hands and sat nose-to-nose with the cat, who was looking back at her with a remarkably human expression, caught somewhere between patient waiting and poised hauteur for those poor cats who just so happened to think themselves somewhat less on the evolutionary scale than humans. This cat looked exactly like she was thinking 'Why would I want to be running around on that floor, getting all filthy?' Since she largely held the same opinion, Ari thought this to be a sensible Ravenette determination. Very well, Chanda should have that cat. She crossed over to her. "Is that the one?" she asked. "I think so," Chanda replied, gazing raptly and cooing at the cat. "It's female, right?" The two girls did a quick check. "Could she be anything but?" smiled Ari, lifting her out and settling her into the cradle of Chanda's arms. "What a *sweet* little youngling, oh yes oh yes!" she crooned in an off-center manner. "Why, you-ums can't be more than six months old!" The cat, little sleek black whippet that she was, arched her head against Ari's hand with a smug "yes-aren't-I-wonderful" expression. Already won over, Ari pulled out the bag of Raven/ette contributions, including a large Western Union wire sent by Chanda's Aunt Ruth when she heard of the plan, not bothering to ask the price first. She placed it into the startled shopkeeper's hands, whose expression warmed at least ten degrees. He abandoned the great cat chase and went to the register to select a proper carrier, as well as food and water dishes, blank tags, flea collar (jeweled, of course, rhinestone on black faux velvet), and even threw in a leash. "Come on," Ari hissed, taking advantage of his thrilled flurry of avarice and corralling all the Ravenettes. "Time for us to get going." She pulled at Maureen, who was sadly inspecting the rents in her sweater and back. "Come on, while he's busy. We'll buy you some mercurochrome later. Time for clothes. Alikhat coming with us?" "She left," Vicki volunteered. "Said something about not wanting to spend the night in jail." "Can't fault her for that one," Ari muttered. Detouring over to the counter, she said, "Meet us in front," under her breath. Chanda was so engrossed in the cat, she gave only a small inclination of her head, so she had to be content with hoping her words had penetrated. Out in front, counting heads-- Maureen, Vicki, Cynthia, Catherine-- Ari asked, "Okay, anyone for clothes-shopping? Maureen, we'll buy you something too." "With what?" Maureen asked practically. "This." Ari, grinning, pulled out a very pretty charge card with an embossed logo of a raven on it. Vicki whistled. "How did you get a hold of *that*?" "Miklos slipped it into my hand as I was leaving. He said something about not telling Susan, it would be between us. So we're on the honor system to only get one outfit. Not complete Jackie Kennedy ensembles, so don't get too excited. He said, and I quote, 'Buy yourselves something pretty for the dance.' Then I think he leered at me, but I'm not sure about that part because you know how rarely he uses his smiling muscles." "Nice of him, but I've really got to run," Catherine said. "Legal stuff to think up, and all of that." "And someone had better take the kitten back to the wine cellar," said Cynthia, eyeing the cat as she and her person now appeared. "We'll go later, how about that, Catherine?" "Then you guys take the car," Ari bossed. "No sense in us taking the cat on public transportation. No, Chanda, we have to leave puss-ums now, so stop drooling with ownership. She'll be fine with the others. I doubt Cynthia is going to exchange her for an Abyssinian in our absence." ### A PLAN IS BORN by Shirl Cline Time: Afternoon Place: Shirl's hotel room Somehow she'd never thought war would be like this. She'd spent the days since her arrival helping the other Cousins to clean the old CERK offices, move LaCroix's things, and trying to stay out of his way. Nervous as she'd been before, she did *not* want to meet him when he was annoyed. She'd do anything for him, but she'd thought that things would be a little more exciting than this. Waiting for someone to include her in their nefarious plans was getting tiresome. She wanted to *do* something! she thought glumly. she thought. She selected a shirt and a pair of jeans from the clothes she'd brought. All but two of the shirts were in cooler shades of blue, except for her black CERK shirt and a green shirt that brought out her eyes. As she undressed, she thought about what had happened thus far in the conflict. It was beginning to look like the Natpack was responsible for starting the war, but why? Cousin Julie's comment at the meeting had stung a bit, but she couldn't help her inquisitive nature. Nat just didn't seem like the type to do it. With the intense battle over possession of the Raven, she thought that Janette's followers were a much more likely prospect. she thought as she adjusted the water temperature. As she stepped into the shower, she had a thought that made her begin to grin devilishly. She'd have to check with the other Cousins, and buy some more equipment. As she began formulating her plan, she began to giggle. She finished her shower quickly, she had some calls to make... ### WHEN THE GOING GETS TOUGH, THE TOUGH GO SHOPPING (Part 2a) Or: Veni, Vedi, Visa by Elizabeth Lewis Time: Afternoon Place: Toronto Elizabeth had been wandering around for a while trying to find a decent clothing store. Every taxi she had flagged down had offered to drive her to the nearest mall, which she had refused. Malls were fine when she was in Los Angeles--they were required, in fact--but she wanted something... different here. Elizabeth was about to give up and head back to CERK Central when she saw a jewelry store that was open. Stepping in for a few moments to browse, she saw a woman casually dressed in a warm leather jacket and jeans, but who had the sort of attitude that made any store owner foam at the mouth at the opportunity to help her. After she had sent the clerk to the back for the third time looking for just the right set of sapphire earrings, Elizabeth said hello. "You know, if you could bottle that imperious attitude, you could make a fortune." The curly-haired woman looked amused. "It's a learned response. I was taught by the best." A faint, far-away, wistful look entered her eyes, and then she shook herself and continued with her perusal of the jewelry. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to disturb you," Elizabeth said politely, "but I'm new in town and I wondered... do you know any good places to shop?" The woman looked at her thoughtfully, and then a delighted gleam entered her blue-grey eyes. "I'd love toshow you! I need a new outfit anyway, after what the Na... uh, I lost my luggage. Follow me!" ### COPY, COPY by Wendy Kelley Time: 4pm EST Place: Wendy's apartment Wendy walked into the bedroom of her apartment and glanced idly at the computer screen. With her roommate out of town this weekend, she'd spent almost the entire time logged on, trying to read the War messages as they appeared. Now, however, she was waiting for her beta-reader to get back to her with the critique of Part 7 of her story. Wendy had been meaning to go to Toronto this weekend to join the diehards. In fact, she was *supposed* to have been there on Friday. But things kept coming up. The most recent occurred that night when the server that carried her fledgling Tomorrow People Creative list crashed, and she had to spend most of the night trying to reconstruct who had been on it. With only twelve names, it shouldn't have been that difficult. But she hadn't bothered to keep a written off-line record, and that meant she had to scour all the newsgroups looking for the addresses. The glance at the screen revealed a half-dozen messages waiting. *Probably all WAR posts,* she thought. She hit a key to get a listing of subjects, and there it was - the critique. She sat down to read it, prepared for the worst, only to be surprised by the Reader saying it was ready to go, no changes necessary. *Well, now that I've got part 7, I guess I should post the other six as well.* She uploaded the parts and sent them out, then turned to the TV to better pay attention the Tomorrow People episode playing. The computer beeped. Loudly. Several times. *Seventy messages,* she noted, turning back to the computer. *Good gods. The FKFIC list must have been held again.* Then she hit the return key and noticed 10 copies of each part sitting in her mailbox. *What? Did Mark mess the TPFICT-L list up again?* A quick phone call revealed that this was, surprisingly, not his fault. Which meant.... who else had access to the list? Selma. She was the only one on the TP list who was also on the FK list. *And* she was a Natpacker! It had to be her. Wendy growled at the computer screen, then decided it was way past time to get to Toronto. She grabbed her trenchcoat, oversized leather backpack, and purse (the combination thereof when worn made her look like a refugee from a gypsy camp) and headed out the door. Anything she would need would be in there, except... she ran back into the room, rummaged through the tape collection and threw one in the backpack. *This one could come in real useful.* She paused at the door, then grabbed her sword before heading out. This may not be a highlander war, but one never knew when swords would come in handy. Besides, after having a wear a sword for all of Halloween and All Saint's Day, she had started to enjoy having the sidearm, even if it draw a lot of strange expressions from the other students in her classes. She left for real, again. She hopped in the car and sped all the war to O'Hare, getting there just in time to catch a plane to Toronto, her mother's credit card once again coming in very useful. ### WHEN THE GOING GETS TOUGH, THE TOUGH GO SHOPPING (Part 2b) by Elizabeth Lewis Time: Late afternoon Place: Toronto Heather regarded her new-found shopping companion with approval. Elizabeth was a confirmed shop-a-holic, and had an unerring eye for what looked good. They had hit five of Janette's favorite stores, and neither Heather nor Elizabeth showed any sign of slowing down. "Ooooooh," Elizabeth drew a reverent breath at the dress she was currently fingering. It was deep forest green velvet, with a off-the-shoulder neckline that was embroidered in gold thread. The long skirt fell in folds to the floor, and the whole effect was decidedly medieval looking. "I want that dress," Elizabeth said, rampaging lust in her voice. Heather nodded. The deep color of the fabric would suit her short new friend. "You know," Heather said slowly, "there's going to be a party Tuesday night at a club I know. If you want to come, you could wear that." Elizabeth considered. "I'd love to come, but I might have another job... I mean, I might be busy." Casually, Elizabeth turned over the price tag on the dress and Heather felt her jaw hit the floor. Not only was the price on the dress outrageous, but Elizabeth had been racking up quite a bill all day. "Uh, Elizabeth... are you sure you can afford that?" Elizabeth nodded as she handed over the credit card. "Sure. My Uncle is paying for it." Looking past her smug little smile, Heather noticed the name on the credit card for the first time. Lucian LaCroix. Gadzooks! She was with a Cousin! ### DECEPTION UNVEILED by Christine Hunt (with input from the N&NPack and Dianne the Merc) Time: 5 p.m. EST Place: Toronto Hilton They sat impatiently around the table in their Toronto Hilton Suite, mulling over the apparent silence of the last few days. They'd heard nothing from Perri, and could only imagine what had happened to Erika at the hands of her kidnappers. Yet according to their last contact by e-mail, a cease fire was in effect. So they'd waited, and waited, unsure of what their next move would be. Even their planned retaliations for the rubber hearts had been put on hold, as the'd left negotiations for Erika's release in the hands of the Knighties. "Are you sure Perri was going to take care of it? Shouldn't we be doing something?" Mary Margaret asked again. "I agree," Marie Saville said with certainty. "Erika isn't just a Knightie. She's one of us. This is an attack on *us*." Christine Hunt shook her head dubiously. "We can't act. The Warmistress called a cessation of hostilities. Although I wish we could---" A knock at the door. "Who is it?" Christine asked with a tinge of suspicion borne out of nerves that had become shattered over the last few days. A quiet voice. "Dianne." The others looked on in curiosity as Christine smiled and went to the door. A young woman entered, giving Christine a hug. "Great to see you, Chris." "Too bad it takes a war to get old friends together," Christine replied wistfully. She turned to the others in the room. "Dianne, this is some of the Nick&Nat Pack--Marie Seville, Mary Margaret Lowe, Paula Hurley, Cindy Brewer, Lisa Wolters. This is Dianne--" "The Merc!" Lisa finished for her, recognition and respect in her eyes. "I've heard a lot about you." Dianne nodded her head graciously, then turned to Christine. "What about Judy and Maryanne?" "They won't be here until Monday," Chris explained. "But by then the ceasefire should be over..." There was more concern than puzzlement in Dianne's eyes as she asked, "What ceasefire? The war's been going on non-stop!" Christine's eyes opened wide with realization. "Oh my God!" she exclaimed, and rushed to her laptop. "But look, Dianne, I had e-mail from the warmistress saying that there was a ceasefire until Monday!" She called up the file and Dianne read it, shaking her head. "This is bogus, Chris. Someone's been intercepting your e-mail, and sent you a fake. There never was a ceasefire!" "The Immortal Beloveds..." Christine murmured under her breath, absolutely livid. "It's gotta be them," Lisa chimed in angrily. "Not unless they've taken over the Raven," Dianne said, looking up from the laptop. She'd been fiddling with the PC, trying to determine the source of the spurious note that had kept the Nick&NatPack out of circulation for the past three days. "That's where this note came from..and I'd bet someone there tampered with your e-mail connection." She spent a few more moments working at the software with an expert hand that none of the others had, despite their varying levels of computer literacy. When she was done, she set the laptop on the table. "You should be back in business now." "So let me get this straight," Chris said, trying to push aside her anger long enough to work the problem through. "LaCroix--or Cousins?" "No way of knowing," the merc replied. "That place has changed owners so many times in the last few days that even I lose track of who's in control. It could be the Ravens--" "The Immortal Beloveds," Cindy said with conviction. "Or the Cousins," Mary Margaret differed. Her dog Worf barked in agreement, startling Dianne, who hadn't noticed she was there. "Keep her quiet!" Christine warned. "We're pushing our luck just having her here...." "Yeah, good thing we have the terrace for her to go out on," Mary Margaret replied, calming the dog with a loving pat. Lisa rolled her eyes. "Yeah, if I'd have known we were bringing pets, I would have brought my horse," she said sarcastically. "Worf is our Chief of Security," Mary Margaret pouted defensively. "Stop it, you two. We have a more important matter at hand." Christine turned to Paula. "I guess it's about time we carried out Plan A, huh?" Paula grinned. "I've just been waiting for the word," she said, grabbing the computer disk and cassette Christine had given her. Christine grinned slyly as Paula and Cindy head out the door with the excitement of kids getting out of school. "Plan A?" Dianne asked in amusement. "A is for Ari," Christine explained. "We've been waiting three days to make our attack on the IB's. Since there's no ceasefire, there's nothing keeping us from acting." Dianne laughed appreciatively. "I was wondering what was taking you so long!" "And now," Christine said, with an evil gleam in her eye, "This is where you come in. Lisa and I have a little plan for LaCroix....and it seems the Cousins may have just given us a reason to go ahead with it." "Hey, I only work for payment, you know the rules," her friend warned. "Hmm. You don't take plastic do you?" As Dianne shook her head, a new thought struck Christine. It had failed to get information from Sharon in jail...but Sharon had been especially difficult. Maybe it would work on Dianne.... "Do you like Sushi?" "Never had it." "You don't know what you're missing!" With that Christine and Lisa took Dianne by the arms, and led her to Toronto's best Japanese restaurant. $400 worth of Sushi and Sapporo beer later, they had a deal in the works.... ### TORONTO THE GOOD?! by Kimberley Low Time: Afternoon Place: Canada Well, I'd gotten the message back from Jennie. I was to go to Toronto. Now Canadian opinion on Toronto tends to be split. The relative minority thinks, "Ah, Toronto. A Canadian Mecca of culture and people." The majority tend to think, "Toronto. Are we sure its still Canadian?" And then there are those that believe that the Quebec federalists would have had a much higher majority if their campaign had run: "We stay, but we kick Toronto out." I tend to fall in the mid group. A little suspcious, but not overty hostile. But I was going. For starters, I could plead for protection from a vengeful, sadistic vampire with out having to worry too much about having to spend an extended vacation on the North Hill, or in Selkirk, or at the Royal Ottawa. I barely have time for a war let alone a pychiatric evaluaton! Secondly, I have enough curiosity to take a dozen cats through all nine of their short little lives and I was dying (bad choice of words?) to meet everyone. So I was going to Toronto. First I had to find a way out of Brandon. Luckily, a friend had to go into Winnipeg for diving. One reason to be glad Brandon doesn't have a proper pool, I guess. We spent a white-knuckled ride looking at all the cars spun into ditches after the snowstorm, but we did make it. To the airport and into the Emergency Fund (sob) and I had a student standby ticket to Toronto. I felt kind of guilty about leaving Angus Midhir at home but my roommate was there and I really couldn't afford the extra 60 dollars to transport the cat. Anyways, I really didn't know these people. For all I knew, someone could have serious allergies. Like any good Natpacker, I was organized. (HA! If people can get better laptops why can't I get better personality traits? ) So I wasn't exactly organized. At least I had a foolproof way of being recognized at the airport. (Just for that I'm giving myself a much better laptop. ) A Senator's jersey. It stands out and, no matter how good the team is doing or how cute Alexander Daigle is, no one else on the planet would be wearing one. Hey, I _was_ from Ottawa, well, my parents are. Sorta. Currently. Considering the only other option I could think of was to put a large cryptic sign on a hat, I picked the lesser of the two evils. The plane was crowded. I considered myself extremely lucky to even get on the flight. But surprisingly enough, people took one look at my outfit (jeans, red mockneck, and the jersey) and they left me to peacefully go through my laptop. Go figure. I even got both elbow rests. At baggage claim I scanned the crowd for someone likely to be looking for me. I'd e-mailed the rest of the Natpackers with my description but the only person who seemed to be looking was this guy in a chauffer's uniform. Looked very uptight and proper. Definitely could not be him. "Are you Ms. Low?" "You have got to be kidding." "I was told to look for a young woman in a Senator's jersey and to take her to a Natalie Lambert's apartment to meet up with the rest of 'the Pack'." *Well, the Natpack _were_ the only people who knew about the Senator's jersey.* "Uh, in that case it is me. I'll just grab my bags." "I shall handle that, don't worry." *I'm beginning to revise my thoughts on Toronto. What was that again? "Ah, Toronto. A Canadian Mecca of culture and people."* Twenty minutes later we arrived at Natalie's apartment. The weather was great! Ten above! Didn't have to worry about where I'd shoved my gloves and I could take the bulky lining out of my jacket. I got to the door and knocked. Someone frazzled opened the door. "Hi! I'm Kim! What did I miss?" "Hi. Come in. I'm Jennie. That's Amy. Amparo's in the corner. Valerie and Elaine are over there. And Betsy and GT are over in the kitchen. Sharon and Leslie are trying to deprogramme Jill from a certain fixation. Don't ask. I'll explain where Selma is in a second. Nat's curled up in her room. She's had a bad couple of days. First the Jepardy theme song, then the break in, then waking up to find us playing with frogs..." "Frogs? I missed the frogs? But I'm a zoo major. I _like_ frogs! Oh, well, what else did I miss?" ### A PEACEFUL INTERLUDE by Catherine A. Siemann "Who is it?" Ari picked up the phone. "What? What do you want? Well, I'm not sure she wants to talk to you -- what are you selling anyway? Yeah, all right." She waved at Catherine, who took the receiver. "Yeah. No. I had been looking forward to it, too. What? With the war on? Do you think so? Yeah, okay?" Catherine walked to the closet, and pulled out a pair of jeans and an old woolly sweater. "I was supposed to go hiking in Connecticut this weekend with Lane, before the War broke out. He still wants to go -- he said there's a really good place to hike about an hour outside of Toronto. D'you think it's safe to go hiking with a Merc?" "Depends on what you're offering him," Ari grinned devilishly. "Hey, we're just friends!" said Catherine, somewhat defensively. "Doesn't a certain Doctor Natalie Lambert say things like that, too?" asked Ari. "Yeah, and it's true in her case, too!" The two Immortal Beloveds gave each other a high five. Knowing it was unsafe to let a Merc know her location, Catherine arranged to pick him up at the Eaton Centre. As a New Yorker, she didn't own a car, but she'd flown to her parents' house in Buffalo and borrowed her mom's car for the two hour drive to Toronto. The battered blue Tempo might not look like much -- but her mom wouldn't be devastated if she had to collect the insurance money on it, either. It was a lovely day, and they had a pleasant hike, forgetting momentarily about the hostilities that they were both a part of. It was such a pleasant day, in fact, that she let her guard down. "Why don't you pose by that tree over there?" he asked. "I've gotten all kinds of pictures of trees and waterfalls, but none of you." It wasn't until after the camera had done its work, that she realized what had just happened. She gasped in horror. "You . . . beast! You low down dirty mercenary! Who hired you to do this?" He smiled. "To get a photo of a Ravenette in a baggy sweater, dirty jeans, hiking boots and no makeup? Gee, I don't know, but I think I can name my price, don't you? Perhaps the Cousins, maybe the Nick&Nat Pack . . . . Just exercising a little . . . freelance . . . initiative." The next thing either of them knew, he was on the ground, flat on his back, and she was standing with one foot on his chest, opening the camera and exposing the film to daylight, so that this little picture would never be seen. "How?" he gasped. "How did you just do that? I'm a trained Merc, a student of the martial arts, a tactician, a marksman . . . . How did you just pin me? You study . . . yoga." He made a disgusted face. "Adrenaline," she smiled. "A complete and total adrenaline rush of horror that I could be photographed like this. Now, if you want me to let you up unharmed, and drive you back to civilization, I suggest you listen carefully. You owe me. You owe me big. No pay. Either the Ravenettes or the Immortal Beloveds will expect to collect." "Okay," he gasped again. "Would you please let me up now? I can't breathe." Ari was *very* pleased, when she heard. ### PEEPING COUSINS (Part 1a) by Shirl Cline Time: Late afternoon Place: Shirl's hotel room and Nick's neighborhood "Binoculars, digital cameras with zoom lenses." "Check." "Assorted B & E tools." "Check." "Sleeping bags, portable heater, coffee, soda, sandwiches, and miscellaneous snacks." "Check." "Flashlights, extra batteries, glass cleaner, and paper towels." "Check." "Munchies and bottled water for Gandalf and Merlin." "Check." "Okay, that's everything we should need in case we have to wait awhile for our opportunity. Let's pack it up and get moving." Cousin Shirl said gleefully. "You *really* seem to be looking forward to this." Cousin Tokaara commented. "So I lust after Nick once in a while. It's not like I want him to be good, become mortal and play house with Nat", the short brunette sounded defensive. "That isn't against the rules, is it? LaCroix has my complete loyalty. If I was a Knightie, I wouldn't be doing this, would I?" Shirl thought. "I'm sorry for being snippy, this is my first plan, and my first war. I'm a little anxious about it. I don't want to disappoint LaCroix." "I understand. Hmmm, I hope we can fit all this into those two duffel bags." They couldn't. "We don't really need the sleeping bags. We can just take a sheet to sit on, instead." "You're right. And I guess we don't have to take all this food. We shouldn't be there for more than a day at the most." "Come on, let's get going. I want to be all set up before dark." Shirl thought. *** "Not exactly the nicest neighborhood to be walking through, but we don't want anyone to see the car." "I've never broken into anywhere before. I hope it isn't too hard." "Around here? I doubt it" The humans and felines began moving more slowly and carefully as they approached the chosen building. The Cousin was right; anyone could have gotten in. They probably wouldn't even need tools to do it. "Just think, when they figure out where we took the pictures from, they might actually consider securing the buildings around Nick's place." "Nah," they both said at once, and began laughing. ### N&NPACK--PLAN A (A IS FOR ARI...) by Christine Hunt Time: Late afternoon Place: Toronto Sheraton The door to the Immortal Beloveds' suite in the Toronto Sheraton was locked, but a little flirting with the impressionable young bellboy had done the trick. Convincing him that this was *her* room, and that she'd forgotten her keys, Cindy Brewer had had little trouble gaining access to the site of the Nick&NatPack's first attack, against Ari, the leader of the Immortal Beloveds. "You keep lookout," she told her companion Paula, as she found what she'd been looking for. Ari's laptop computer. Gingerly, she took the disk Christine had given her from her pocketbook, and got to work. When she was done, she turned to Paula with a sly grin. "That'll get under her skin and good." Paula laughed. "Not as much as this..." And she took the neatly wrapped present from her pocket and slipped it onto Ari's bed..... *** When Ari, Lane and Chanda found their way back to the room, Ari collapsed on the bed in exhaustion...only to find something poking into her back. She jumped up, suspicious at once, and saw the package wrapped in a sickeningly romantic pink.... "It's gotta be from the Nick&NatPackers," she said to her companions. Hoping it wasn't a bomb, she carefully opened the package to find a cassette, marked "Love Songs for Nick and Janette".... "Maybe not," Lane commented in surprise. "Why don't you play it?" Luckily, Ari had brought the mini-speakers that attached to her walkman. This was something they'd all have to hear at once. And if it was from the 'pack.... "Love songs for Nick and Janette?" Chanda said hopefully. "It sounds nice..." No sound. Ari fast-forwarded. And suddenly, Carole King's voice rang out... *"It's too late baby, now, it's too late...."* Ari shuddered, pressing fast-forward again. Her most hated song from "The Sound of Music" rang out.... *"So long, farewell, auf wiedersehen, good bye..."* Chanda gasped as Ari hit fast forward again. This time it was Diana Ross and the Supremes.... *"Set me free, why don't you babe..Get outta my life, why don't you babe...'cause you don't really love me...you just keep me hanging on...."* A morbid curiosity kept Ari from throwing the tape into the garbage, fast-forwarding until she had heard all thiry-four songs, each one dealing with failed relationships and good byes. The last, a Jodi Watley song she remembered from the eighties... *"I'm lookin' for a new love, baby. A new love...yeah yeah yeah..." Chanda was too horrified to speak. Finally Ari tossed the tape, wondering why she hadn't done so earlier. "I'll get that Christine Hunt!" "Isn't that the one who writes all those sappy Nick&Nat stories? Yuk!" Chanda commented. "This really *is* war!" Ari cried, running to her computer to e-mail for help from the Mercs. But as her windows came up, the wall paper made her mouth drop wide open. Nick and Natalie. Kissing. "Oh, gross!" But the screen saver was worse, and as she watched the images of Nick and Natalie in various intimate moments, she was sure she'd lose her dinner. Taking control of herself, she went into her program manager in an attempt to delete the hideous images. It seemed all too easy. Christine seemed more intelligent than that. There had to be more than a few images.... On a hunch, she turned up the volume on her speakers, and hit a key.... *"So long, farewell, auf wiedersehen good bye..."* "Argh!" she cried. She went into her audio program, to find the wave files.... *"Set me free, why don't you babe..."* *"I'm looking for a new love, baby..."* Two hours later, her laptop was back to normal. But her nerves weren't. And they wouldn't be until she got revenge on Christine Hunt.... ### CINEMA VERITE by Dianne la Mercenaire Time: Late afternoon Place: Nick's loft Nick was standing by the window of his loft. He had cracked open the shades slightly and he stood carefully to the side as he watched the last few rays of the setting sun slant through the dust motes and onto the floor. He poked the very edge of the beam absently with the toe of his shoe. He needed a drink. But, looking around at the many Knighties strewn about the loft in pursuit of various forms of sleep, food, entertainment, or intrigue, he thought better of it. Nick had finally managed to dig himself out of the hole he'd dug for himself by turning on Sandra so easily. He had actiually _believed_ that Sandra had jumped factions to LaCroix! He had even believed she had gone further... *much* further. And he'd given her no chance to explain.... Thinking of the utter torture those long hours must have been for the poor, faithful Knightie, Nick felt a familiar wave of shame coming over him. Doing his best to push that to the background, the detective in him still struggled with the same basic question that just would not leave him in peace. Convinced as he now was of Sandra's unwavering loyalty, he found himself even harder pressed to explain why his Master had gone all day without even touching her.... Just then his train of thought was derailed by a loud *thump* from the fireplace. Realizing that no one else could hear it, he got up to investigate--moving casually, so as not to alarm the Knighties unnecessarily. Wrapped up neatly in a copy of the November issue of Playgirl --which had protected it in its long fall down the chimney-- and tied with a big raffia bow, Nick found...an unlabeled videotape. Placing it in the VCR and grabbing his New-Improved- Slices-Dices-Purees-It's-a-Desert-Topping-*and*-a-Floor-Wax All Purpose Remote, he dropped down on his surprisingly Knightie- free leather couch and hit "play." Instantly a huge plume of flame erupted in the fireplace, severely startling and very slightly singeing one luckless Knightie and drawing rolled-eye indulgent looks from the rest. Muttering a choice 14th-century Basque curse and looking abashed, Nick moved his thumb over slightly, tried again, and the tape started. Nick's eyes widened. And widened. And widened. Blink. Blink. The other Knighties crept silently closer, drawn almost hypnotically by the horror of what they were seeing... >>>"Drop 'em, Lu." A nearly-naked Sandra said clearly, a salacious grin on her face.<<< It was obviously--*obviously*--a hidden camera of some kind. LaCroix and Sandra were sitting on the floor of the Raven's wine cellar. The tape was videostamped: "4:11 p.m. Saturday, November 4th." As LaCroix slowly stripped off his pants, the sounds of Sandra's improvised burlesque accompaniment faltered...and stopped. Nick and the Knighties were riveted in shock by the look of open _lust_ on Sandra's face. (Well, o.k....*most* of the Knighties were riveted by the sight of Sandra's face....) >>>"No," she breathed. "You win."<<< Nick could hear Sandra's heartbeat begin to race even on the tape. The Knighties needed no such clue--the flush in her face and the gapeing, nearly drooling, stare made her train of thought _quite_ clear. "Nick...," one of the more collected Knighties moved to take the remote from his hand and stop this torture, but his hand was clasped so tightly that it threatened to shatter even the heavy-duty, usually Nick-proof housing of the device. LaCroix was now kissing Sandra. And she was returning the kiss with obvious enthusiasm. Nick felt violently *ill*. As the embracing figures moved to the ground, Nick's eyes began to glow in a dangerous fashion. Knightie Catherine--keeping her lunch firmly in place by carefully averting her eyes--worked even harder free the remote and end the show. >>"Take me!"<<< Nick lost it. The remote shattered to tiny slivers of high-impact plastic in his hand as he vanished in a blur of motion in the general direction of the stairs. ### A MANY SPLENDORED THING by Catherine Boone Time: Late afternoon Place: Nick's loft Nick raced out of the loft, his eyes burning. He couldn't sit in there, with all his Knighties watching him. He needed space, he needed some time to himself, and he needed it right now. He found himself on the roof of an old warehouse, across from the docks. He sat down and glared at the light glittering on the water. This was one of his favorite places to go and think about things. He had ended up here because he had nowhere to go when he didn't want to think. (I can't *believe* she would betray me this way! She and Lacroix...) His mind shut itself away from the thought. (They don't, they *can't* understand what he's really like! Seduced by his lies, they don't see him for what he really is...) Angrily his eyes glittered brighter than the water below. (How can I trust them? How can I even *believe* them, when they are so willing to be swayed, so easily turn from the betrayed to the betrayer?) His eyes raised to the moon, pure and white against the carpet of black sky. His face moved from bitterness to calm. His bitterness remained, he simply transferred it from the outside to the inside, like shifting a heavy wieght such that it rides easier on the shoulders. Better not to think of them individually, alone. That would hurt too much. No, far easier to simply put them away alongside all those who had betrayed him, all those who had hurt him. All those he had loved. (When I return to the loft, I'll tell them to leave. No goodbyes. They may be hurt, but in the end, they'll be better off. They may not realize it, but they will.) Of course they were better off without him. How could he have forgotten? He rose, and took one last look at the water, reflecting sunlight he could never see. Reflecting... Reflecting the sound of taunting remarks to Screed while some of them were tied up in his sewer, not a trace of fear in their voice, sure they would be rescued... Reflecting the sight of Catherine and Perri in the store cheerfully arguing over the virtues, or lack thereof, of Ben & Jerry's Light... Reflecting Amy's anger, that he would blindly assume Sandra's guilt... Reflecting Sandra's devastation, when he turned his back and walked away... Reflecting the fear in their eyes, when the leaders took him aside to try to talk things out... Fear. Yes, that was the word, wasn't it? They had been afraid when they talked to him this morning. * Who's to say you won't do it to the rest of us? Won't turn your back on us when we need you the most, then refuse to listen to us? * They had already known this would happen. They had already seen the end result of the day's events, even if there had never been a tape. And they had also known that there was nothing they could do to stop it, though they tried. They knew he would betray them. But there was no accusation, no shouting. No goodbyes. Sometimes they acted more like him than he did. * I told you we love you because you're not perfect, but you try to be. * ... did he have the right to ask for more? ** ** Nick returned to the loft to find Knighties scattered about. Some had watched the tape of Sandra, the rest had just gotten the bottom line. They all turned to watch him. Half the room looked sad, while the other watched with prearranged calm. They knew what was coming. Or at least, they thought they did. And they waited for him to tell them to go. Nick approached Amy, and took her hands in his. "Amy, I'm sorry. I'm sorry I got mad when I shouldn't have, and because... you were right, and I was wrong about Sandra. I should have trusted you, all of you." He raised his eyes to Perri and Catherine, standing together behind the crowd, and included them in the look. He looked back down at Amy. "And next time, I'll try not to fly off the handle, okay?" Amy smiled. "Okay." The two leaders smiled, and the entire room seemed to collapse in one huge sigh of relief. In the background, Perri glanced at Catherine, jerked her head slightly at Nick, and quirked an eyebrow. Catherine stared blankly at her for a moment, then a smug grin spread across her face, and she nodded. Perri shouted, "Dogpile on Nick!" at the same time as Catherine's "Yaaaaa!" Nick was stormed by a dozen Knighties, and soon could hardly breathe from all the bodies piled on top of him, giggling hysterically. And, for once, he didn't mind a bit. At least, until someone at the top of the pile wondered out loud, "Are vampires ticklish?" ### WHEN LIFE HANDS YOU LEMONS, MAKE LEMONADE by Cousine Celeste Time: Late afternoon Place: Outside Nick's loft *Brothers in heart, soul-brothers are weeeee!* The fannish filk song Tam's Song', from the tape "Wolf-riders, Songs of Elfquest", blared out from the van's tape deck. "I've always wondered if Julia Eckler meant that wolf riders are `we' as in`us', or that wolf riders are very, very small," mused Cousine Celeste from the front seat next to the driver. "I mean, they'd kind of have to be really wee, to fit on the backs of those wolves." Laurie CF, seated directly behind her, snorted derisively. "Celeste thinks they should do a Broadway musical based on Elf Quest, using Julia's Wolf Rider filks. I don't think it will work, because how do you show full-grown, human actors sitting astride `wolves', on-stage?" "Fun songs, though; about half of them have a nice, professional hook to them," commented Alikhat from her seat behind the driver. Her feet casually propped on the stick-shift island between the front seats, she flipped though the Spring edition of the See's Candies catalog with interest. "I suppose they could dress up largish actors as wolves, a la Cats, and have the smaller, elf-actors sitting on their shoulders or something." The driver, cousin Laura Waskey, didn't comment because she hadn't been listening to either conversation *or* filksong. She'd borrowed the van from her friends on the border patrol, but had not bothered to mention to them the fact that she did not have a chauffeur's license, assuming in a cousinly fashion that what her friends did not know, could not hurt them. Desperate to avoid the notice of the Toronto police force, she was most attentively driving at the prescribed city speed, taking corners carefully and avoiding at all costs knocking down any of the fine, upstanding Toronto citizenry that might find itself in her way. The fact that she really wasn't used to the monster stick-shift was compounded by the movement of the weighty, gurgling contents of the back of the van. Oh, no! *Another* dratted corner. . . slosh, slosh, slosh; the van swayed on its tires as it took the curve. Celeste noticed that the catalog in Alikhat's hands was a good eight months old. "Hey, sweetie, here's the latest one, just dropped into my mailbox last week," she said, digging the See's Christmas candy catalog from her handbag and tossing it to the Merc/Cousin in the back seat. Alikhat was being paid with an impressively hefty gift certificate from See's, and had been happily gloating over her fee since she'd met up with her fellow cousins outside the Raven an hour or so ago. "No, that's OK," smiled the Merc/Cousin at her Cousine employer. "I have this *thing* for chocolate Easter bunnies. Somehow, biting the heads off chocolate Santa Clauses just doesn't do it for me." Laurie edged away a bit from her seat companion and Celeste shrugged dubiously. "Whatever turns you on," she said. "Omigosh, kid, get out of the way, oh, please, please; get out--oh, *good* boy," muttered Laura through clenched teeth to a 14-year-old riding his bike the wrong way down the street, gaining the attention of all in the van. "You OK?" asked Laurie. "Yeah, sure--just a little heart attack-slash-stroke. Perfectly fine." Laura's knuckles were white on the Naugahyde-covered steering wheel, her steely, if panicked, eye fixed to the road ahead. "Oh, come on, Laura! You, nervous of an adolescent git on a bike?" Alikhat sat up straight and peered into Laura's eyes via the rear-view mirror. "The woman who single-handedly kidnapped two Natpackers using only a *cat*? Genius of that sort makes MacGyver bow down and proclaim 'I am not worthy!' I was in awe, myself, when I heard the tale." "The cat caper was *nothing* compared to driving this thing," she muttered. Much to her relief, their destination loomed: Nick's warehouse/apartment. She pulled into the driveway, shifted to neutral, and sat back, heaving a big sigh of relief. Grinning at her cohorts, she spread her hands in a `ta-dah' gesture, her confidence fully restored now that they were parked. "You two are here to provide muscle and chutzpah, should that be needed," said Celeste to Laura and Alikhat, "but frankly, what with my brilliant machinations, we shouldn't need either of them." "Surely they will have *somebody* posted at the door?" said Laura, eyes darting up and down the block. She wasn't worried in the least, she was up for anything. In fact, if she saw no action, she would undoubtedly feel rather cheated. "Maybe. Maybe. Eyes open, Laura. C'mon, Laurie, Alikhat, let's get this road on the show," the Cousine jumped from the van and went `round the back, unlocking the doors, which swung open to reveal: the product of a week's string-pulling. A pair of pristine-white, double-walled, fiberglass tanks on nylon/silicon wheels sat, still sloshing gently, glistening in the mid-afternoon sun. Bob, the Cousine's husband, had laboured many years as an executroid for the Hood Dairy & Foods Corporation. Although he had recently quit, to go into business for himself, all of his contacts in the dairy industry were still there, *more* than willing to help out the wife of one of their favorite ex-customers. Big Frankie at Core Containers had cheerfully had his boys set a couple of their 3 foot by six foot by eight foot tanks on their sides, perpendicular to the ground, taking the wheels off the old bottoms and re-attaching them on the new bottoms. He had remarked that they looked like standing coffins for a couple of really big guys, and had been surprised when she'd laughed rather harder than he'd thought she would. The liquid contents hadn't been much harder to procure from Canadian sources--Hood had a presence across the border, and suppliers as well. "A thousand gallons of cows' blood, blech," said Laurie, with a grimace. She pulled the ramp on the van down and hopped up into the back, getting on one side of the left-hand tank. "Uh, well--I had a *bit* of trouble getting that much cows' blood, actually," the Cousine admitted ruefully. "I could only get enough cows' blood for *one* of my tanks--500 gallons." She got on the other side of the tank, preparatory to getting it down the ramp and was surprised when Laurie stepped back to look at her quizzically. Alikhat and Laura were staring at her, too, then everyone's eyes turned to stare suspiciously at the tanks. Alikhat leaned forward and sniffed. "Sweetish. Cloying," she said. She touched the door of the tank gently with one fingertip where a jewel-like drop of something red clung, then touched it to her tongue. "Oh, I don't believe it, you didn't, you couldn't. . . .!" "I did and I could," said the Cousine proudly. "What the heck *is* it?" asked Laura. No way was she gonna taste it, `til she knew what it was. Celeste shrugged. "Did you know that Hood Raspberry Sherbet is one of the company's biggest sellers? Did you know that the same people who sell the vats of raw raspberry necessary to make the sherbet are the same people who sell vats of currant juice to *another* company, one that makes a vile currant-juice concentrate that you can buy in fine stores in Asian communities all over America and Canada?" "No *way*!" "Oh, gross!" "Its. . . !" "Yep, it is!" confirmed the Cousine. "It's a 500 gallon tank of *RIBENA*!" *Let us run from this safety, and once more be free!* The tape played on in the parked van's cab. * * * * * Place: Nick's loft All the Knighties who had been scattered about the apartment, killing time-- playing hand-held videogames, writing in journals, hacking on the internet, chatting, poking about the kitchen making a late lunch--all were now plastered in front of the wide screen TV, fascinated still, though the Infamous Videotape had played through more than a dozen times. Someone had thought to slave another vcr to Nick's vcr and, each time the tape played through, a fresh tape was popped in for yet another Knighties' library. The elevator started to life, descending to ground level. One of the Knighties tore her eyes from the screen for a moment to look at the doors of the elevator, but her friend said, "It's just what's-her-name, I sent her out for some more Vachon cakes and milk." * * * * * The elevator lock had opened by the code that Alikhat had finessed out of someone. "All part of the service," had been her only comment as she'd punched the code and the door had swished open. "Open sesame!" Laurie CF and the Cousine had man-handled the tank of Ribena down the ramp, the difficulty being in keeping it from rolling too quickly as opposed to getting it to move at all--those nylon/silicon wheels were *smooth*. Soon, they had the tank securely nestled in the wide door of Nick's elevator, with than enough room for the second tank. Five hundred gallons of cows' blood would fit like a proverbial glove right next to the five hundred gallons of Ribena. "This is thirsty work," said Laurie CF. "Laura, I have a big bottle of Polar seltzer water in my bag under the seat, could you get it for me? Thanks." "What do you *people* think you're doing!" came a voice. A tallish girl that the Cousine did not recognize stood there, arms wrapped about two brown paper bags of groceries, frowning mightily. Alikhat stepped forward. "Excuse me? Are you one of those `Knighties'?" The girl nodded, but didn't stop frowning. The Merc/Cousin smiled at her. "Thank *god*! We desperately need your help! We have a couple of friends of Nick's in these boxes, we rescued them from some Cousins. We have to get them into his loft, and out of the sun, for their own protection." The girl's eyes went wide. As brick-like as her leader, and as foolishly good-hearted, she was buying it. "Who's in the boxes???" she breathed. "Feliks Twist and Aristotle!" said Alikhat with some satisfaction. "Really? Wow!" "And *here's* my friend now," continued Alikhat, still smiling broadly, looking over the girl's shoulder. The girl turned. . . . . . . and got a face-full of warm seltzer. She went down, hard, landing on her bags of groceries. The bags were filled with boxes of soft cakes, but her head hit the bottle of milk and she was knocked unconscious. Laura stood, nearly empty bottle of seltzer in her hands. "Good blarney, Alikhat! Help me get her in the back." Soon she and Alikhat had the benighted Knightie stashed in the van, while Celeste and Laurie slid the second tank into the elevator bay, next to its sweeter brother. ******* The elevator came to life again, but none of the Knighties noticed. LaCroix was in the process of dropping his pants on the wide-screen at that moment. There was a collective in-take of breath. They leaned forward, trying to . . . uh, catch the make of LC's underwear. The elevator reached their floor. Click. Whirrrrr. The doors slid open. One thousand gallons of mixed Ribena and cows' blood came pouring out, engulfing the entire apartment in a tidal wave of sticky, smelly, icky liquid yuck. ******** The Cousins and Cousin/Merc stood, staring up at the blinds protecting Nick's apartment. They could barely hear the shrieks and cries from within, but enough to know their little gift had hit home. "Why did we do this, Celeste?" said Laurie. "Because we *can*," was the Cousine's response. "For the chocolate, actually," added Alikhat. "Oh! That reminds me, I have to post a thousand-dollar See's gift certificate off to LaMercennaire. She wouldn't sell me the tapes, but knowing where and when a large concentration of Knighties would be at one time *was* quite useful. When life hands you lemons, you gotta make lemonade." "Let's make tracks, m'dears," cried Cousin Laura. The four women leapt into the van and pealed out. Stopping only to gently deposit the unconscious, unnamed Knightie on a Toronto park bench, Laura drove to The Raven, parking the van as near to the front of the bar as traffic would allow, per her arrangement with her friends from the border patrol. One of them would pick it up there--and in the meantime, any Knightie passing by would see it and assume the worst of the Raven/ettes. The cousins scattered. ### CLEANING UP...AGAIN by Perri Smith Time: Night Place: Nick's loft Perri was beyond being mad. Actually, between Nick's earlier rampage, Amy's rant, the damn tape, the apology and ensuing wrestling match and the blood, Perri was beyond just about everything. She just stared blankly. Catherine, sitting next to her on the stairs where they had taken refuge in the mad scramble to avoid the deluge of ribena/cow's blood, watched her with anxious eyes. They had saved the matresses and most of the sleeping bags, all of the stuffed animals (the Knighties knew where their priorities were), and Perri's fuzzy tiger blanky, which she clutched around her shoulders. Everything else was soaked. "Thank God Nick already left for work," Catherine said, looking down at Scottie, sitting on the step below her. "Scottie, is it just me, but did the attacks used to have a bit more class than this? A little more style?" Scottie nodded judiciously. "That they did; although I seem to remember something about a ton of tuna in New York." "Mmm," Amy remembered. "I remember Tara having a cow." Several Knighties looked pained; Amy looked at the blood-soaked carpet. "Sorry." "What are we going to do about this mess?" Karyn asked. "Clean it up," Dottie said suddenly, firmly. They looked at her blankly. "But..." Amy Potter started from the back. "No buts," Scottie said. "Dottie's right, we have to get this cleaned before Nick comes home and freaks for real." "Yeah," Paula said, "or he really will throw us out!" That got a weak laugh. Perri sniffed loudly and stood up, still clutching her blanky. "Okay, let's get organized." *** "We need another person if we're going to get all of these sleeping bags to the laundromat." "Heck with people, we need quarters." "All pockets, empty 'em." "Where can we rent a carpet cleaner?" "*A* carpet cleaner?" "All right, two." "Try three." "Hey, what happened to the Vachon cakes?" "Patricia isn't back yet." "We sent her two hours ago!" "Perri, keep it clean and in English. Search party, at the door!" "Agh, they got my teddy!" "Get a rope!" "Get another washing machine." "All right, who the hell was dupin' The Tape?" "Umm.." "Erase 'em. Now." "But..." "Now!" "We've got her! She was on a park bench a few blocks away." "Take her up to Nick's bed. If she doesn't wake up, we'll call...Natalie." "Grrr.." *squish* "New pillows." "On it. CostMart, here we come." "Don't forget to clean the elevator." "Mop brigade, reporting for duty." **** It took three hours, but they got it done, and collapsed. "What next?" Catherine complained out loud, looking at the spotless apartment. "I don't want to hear any ideas," Perri groaned. "they've probably bugged the place; don't give *them* any ideas." "Who's them?" Perri just looked at her co-leader. "Yeah, I know," Catherine sighed. ### REHEARSAL by Susan M. Garrett Time: Early evening Place: The Raven Susan set the ashtrays down on the smoking end of the table while Tara wiped down the length, singing cheerfully and mangling songs from Beauty and the Beast. "--No one sucks like Vachon--" "'Sucks'?" asked Susan, unable to keep the squeal from her voice. Tara paused in mid-wipe and blinked innocently. "Yeah. Sucks. Like in 'sucks blood.'" "Oh. Okay." Another ashtray was set into place. "--Scorns big bucks like Vachon--" Another ashtray. "And between the sheets, nobody f--" "It's a PG list, for Chrissake!" cried Susan, drowning out the rest of Tara's verse. "Watch it, will you?" "--Like Vachon!" finished Tara gleefully. She waved the cloth in triumph. "Done!" "You will be, if you keep that up." Susan put the last ashtray in place, then sighed. "You might as well go get Amy. And don't teach her that song!" Tara simply grinned again and swept out of the room, altering lyrics as her voice faded away. "No one's thick as Nick Knight--" Groaning, Susan sat down in a chair at the head of the table. was going to be interesting. Introducing Janette to the troops was usually a trip (a.k.a., a delicate situation requiring the utmost diplomacy to avoid bloodshed), but introducing a Janette was going to be downright difficult. Kathy poked her head into the room. "Ready?" Susan waved her in. "Sure. Bring your own drinks. I want to bring everyone up to speed before Amy comes in, anyway." The other Ravens and Ravenettes started wandering in, several with shopping bags. David had the club's receipt book under one arm and a calculator in his hand. "Seven and nine do NOT equal thirteen," he muttered, passing by her. Susan grinned. "They do when you're living in the twilight zone. Just do the best you can. I don't want LaCroix getting any ideas about setting the tax or liquor people on us--if they want to see the books, we'd better have books to show them." "I just don't think they'll appreciate the 'Mothra battles Godzilla' doodles along the margins." "Really?" asked Lorelei, leaning across the table. "Can I see?" Susan caught sight of Ari. "How'd the cat-shopping go?" "Great!" She seated herself at the table, beaming like a proud parent. "She's sleeping right now--I thought this might get a little loud." "Might?" Jasmine laughed as she took her seat at the table, next to mj. "Well, I guess it depends on her mood." Rising from her chair, Susan leaned forward on the table. "Okay, guys and gals, here's the deal--somebody hoodoed Amy into thinking she's Janette." Cynthia laughed. "You're kidding?" She stopped when she saw Susan's serious expression. "You're kidding?" "I wish I was," said Susan sadly. "You know how I feel about that kind of stuff." "Have we figured out who's responsible?" asked Vicki. Leaning against the wall, she gestured toward the door. "I'm guessing Miklos and Alma are clear." "Alma wouldn't bother. And Miklos . . . he's been spending far too much time avoiding certain predatory members of the opposite sex." Susan noticed several wide-eyed and innocent stares--never a good sign. "He tried to unhoodoo her but says that because she thinks she's a vampire, Amy also thinks she can't be hoodoed, so it won't take. He's cleared Nick of the dirty deed--" "Like Nick would ever get Amy to stand still long enough to hoodoo her?" commented Kathy. "Whoever it was must have caught her off guard--those Nat-Packers have lots of energy." "And the attention span of a ferret on a double-expresso," Cynthia added. "I'd guess LaCroix." Susan shook her head. "No. Amy would have fainted dead away if he got that up close and personal--I think you have to be conscious to get hoodoed. And LaCroix wouldn't do anything that stupid. We're looking for someone who works on the sly, doesn't think a lot about what they're doing, pretty much goes with the flow, is looking for a quick fix . . . and chose to hoodoo her rather than munch her." Susan waved her hand as the Ravens and Ravenettes gazed thoughtfully into their drinks. "But that's not our problem. Right now, we just have to deal with Amy and, believe me, she's in full Janette mode. Which means she's bossy, spiteful, arrogant, irritating, condescending--" "But well dressed and stylish!" protested Ari. "Just like the lady we know and love," mj said, with a sad sigh. "And miss." " of us know and love," said Jill. She'd been sitting quietly at the other end of the table. Rising, she walked the length of it, until she stood beside Susan. "Why not call Janette and have her take care of this for us? Some of us have never met her and we're dying for a chance to get to know her." Susan looked down at the floor and tried to hide her grin. "First thing," she said softly, "is that you don't call Janette--she calls . I think she'll be here, but on her terms, not anyone else's. The last thing she wants is to make herself a pawn for LaCroix to use, so he can take over the Raven again. When she wants to be here, she'll be here. "And what is she going to see?" Eyes widening, she gestured out across the table. "The best damn bunch of Ravens and Ravenettes we've had since the affiliations started. We've had this many people here before, but we've never been this active. We've got the Raven and we're going to hold it until we can give it back to her . . . in one piece. As for meeting Janette--" She cleared her throat. "Think of this as a rehearsal for the real thing. It'll keep Amy happy and safe and it won't be a bad way for y'all to get used to being around the Boss." "Which means?" asked Cynthia suspiciously. "When she says 'jump,' you ask 'how high?'" offered Jasmine. "We dress to kill. We follow orders--within reason--and we try to keep Amy out of sight and out of danger. Is that it?" Susan sat down and nodded. "In one. Plus we have to keep her healthy. Sheryl, I'll need you or Tami spelling each other at the bar if Miklos isn't around to keep Amy out of the blood and if she thinks she's Janette she won't eat or drink anything else." "Well, whyever should we do that? After all, those Natpackers did start this whole little War. Wouldn't it serve her right if we gave her the real thing?" Lorelei grinned wickedly, then relented a little. "Or maybe just cow, if there's any of Nick's stock left back there. We don't have to *tell* her where it came from..." "And then we'd have to clean up after her all night, after she kept tossing her cookies?" Susan grimaced. "No thank you! Let's stick with a substitute. None of us are cooks--come to think of it, we've got a number of bakers here--but I think we can put together some sort of V-eight protein thing we can pass off as 'blood' for Amy to drink. You'll probably have to slip it to her on the sly--just tell her LaCroix's messed with the stock and all we have left is the bad stuff." "Works for me," said Sheryl as she glanced across the room--Tami nodded back. "If Natalie can do it, how hard can it be?" "I know how to make fake blood that tastes like the real thing," Jasmine said quickly. "Really!" she added, as the others stared. "Flavourless protein powder would certainly make it more nutritious, but I think I have a recipe that works. Don't gag, and no, I don't know the proportions, I just kind of mix it up until it looks right. It has *stale* cocoa mix (has to be really stale, very important), salt, ky jelly (no, it's not posionous and you don't use that much), red vegetable dye, and water." "Sounds . . . yummi," said Tami, with a slightly green tint to her cheeks. "Trust me on this one. And when it dries, it dries just like real blood too. Don't ask me where I got the recipe." "Wouldn't think of it," commented Susan, also looking slightly pale. "Um--okay, mix us up a batch and we'll see if Amy likes it. The real trick will be going to be stopping her from adding wine to it and I have a feeling the alcohol would be worse for her than going hungry for a day or two." "How long will we have to keep her?" asked Heather. "She's been going through the clothes in the store-room like crazy--I'm just glad I was airing out some of the dresses for Urs to check out, since her wardrobe was trashed. But with the way she's been going through clothes today, she's going to want to go shopping." "No!" said Susan firmly. "She stays here. The story is that she's being stalked, so she has to stay put for her own protection. As far as when we can get rid of her--" she hesitated, looking around the room. "I'm of the opinion that we should try to give her back to the Nat Pack once we're dealing with Amy again, otherwise they're going to think hoodoed her and we've got enough on our plate trying to keep the Raven in our hands without dealing with Nat Packers looking for revenge. Agreed?" The other Ravens and Ravenettes nodded to one another. "Here they come," warned Catherine, who was standing by the door and keeping watch, drink in hand. Tara held the door open as Amy swept into the room--she was wearing the long red, shoulderless gown with the leopard skin print at the bodice. "All present, I take it?" Amyasked, walking down the length of the table. "Yes, Boss." She looked up from her inspection of the troops to glare at Susan. "Very promising. Very promising indeed. Better dressed than the last time. I approve." Reaching Susan's chair at the head of the table, she waited. Susan quickly scrambled out of the chair and pulled it back, so that Amy could seat herself. "Introduce me," she commanded, flicking a cigarette holder from her bodice. Smiling, Susan noted that the cigarette seemed destined to remain unlit. "I know things were a little hectic the last time, but you remember Kathy, Jasmine, Tara--Lorelei joined us in the third war, right? And now there's Heather, Chanda, Ari, Catherine, Cynthia, mj, David, Tami, Jill . . . and Vicki's acting as our legal consultant." Amy nodded regally. "How fortunate. And so many new faces. I suppose there are a few things we should discuss, just so we don't have any misunderstandings--" Susan caught the gazes from a few of the Ravenettes and shook her head. Standing behind Amy, she shrugged and gestured that they should roll with it. After all . . . how bad could it be? ### PEEPING COUSINS (Part 1b) by Shirl Cline Time: 7pm EST Place: Outside Nick's loft After the initial excitement wore off, peeking through Nick's windows became boring. It'd finally occurred to Cousin Shirl that her plan relied on chance as much as anything. The only thing that silenced her doubts was that she *was* talking about Nick. "I wish we'd brought a tape player so that we could listen to some music while we're waiting." Cousin Tokaara said. "I *did* bring my tape player and the little speakers. And I've got tapes dubbed with lots of different stuff." Shirl replied. "Why didn't you say so before?" "Well, I thought you saw them when we packed, and just weren't interested." "Oh. I've got some Garth Brooks. What do you have?" "Let's see...Sarah McLachlan, Sting, Nine Inch Nails, Live, Metallica, Concrete Blonde, Tori Amos, Peter Gabriel, The Police, Matthew Sweet..." When it appeared that she might continue indefinitely, Tok interrupted, "All right! I get the picture. I haven't even heard of most of those people." "I guess I should forget about playing the harder stuff then. Though I may need it later if we have to wait too long. I'm not really into country, but it doesn't bug me. Anyway, who knows? I might have my musical horizons broadened. Why don't we put Garth in first, then we can see how you feel about Sarah McLachlan. As "Friends In Low Places" began playing the Cousins went back to waiting and watching. ### AT THE DINNER TABLE by Jane Snyder Time: Dinner time (7:00 or 8:00 p.m.) Place: Die Hard Headquarters For once all the Die Hards were together at headquarters. Laura, Alanna and Steph had spent a couple of hours in the kitchen and whipped up dinner for everyone. And that had been no mean feat -- finding enough different items to suit everyone's tastes, meat-eaters and vegetarian, had been a real challenge. At least Ron was easy. A glass or two of Janette's special vintage, left over from the ones removed from the Raven by Jane's friend Amanda (see ISOLC), and he was happy. The conference table that came with headquarters was just big enough to fit fifteen people. Bowls and plates of food were passed backwards and forwards. The noise level rose and fell with the four or five different conversations going on. "Your turn to get it." Dawn looked pointedly at Jane. "Fine. No problem." Jane caught the phone before it rang a third time. She listened for a few moments. "Wendy's here. I'm going down to get her. Don't eat everything while I'm gone." The conversations resumed slowly. Lana and Dawn were comparing notes and trying to make sure that the Die Hard war effort was properly co-ordinated. Lana ran through everything on her list, including examining the deBrabant Foundation records. They did not want everyone running off on different tangents without checking with them first. Chaos and confusion just led to disaster. Computer hacking nightmares were the main topic of discussion between Jennifer, Ron the Enforcer and Nightmist. A conversation dominated by Ron. So much for the stereotype of the strong, silent vampire. They had spent the past few hours staring at computer screens, trying to hack through the layers of protection around the deBrabant Foundation. Success had been achieved, and Jennifer had been able to print out the financial records for the past six months, resulting in the sheaves of paper that were piled up on and around the computer station. All that was left was for Lana to make sense of the information they'd obtained. The door opened, interrupting everyone once again. "Hi. Sorry I'm late." Wendy dropped her purse and backpack next to one of the bedroom doors, followed by her trenchcoat and an odd clattering noise. "I almost didn't come -- things just kept coming up -- but then Selma messed with my Tomorrow People creative list." Wendy dropped into the chair next to Jane, muttering, "No-one messes with my Tomorrow People list." Cathy, Ariel and Helen began chatting with Diane E., who had claimed sanctuary at headquarters, trying to take Diane's mind off her recent troubles. They talked about the Die Hard sightseeing tour, comparing Toronto to their home cities -- and carefully avoiding any reference to the wonderful hours they'd spent wandering around the ROM. Wendy, Donna and Jane started discussing the war in general. None of them had been involved in the previous wars, and they were all feeling a little shell-shocked by the rapid escalation that had taken place. Donna was a little confused about the reason behind the war, "It doesn't make sense to me. I mean, we think that the Natpackers started the whole thing by attacking all the factions. Sending nasty gifts to everyone, and doing horrible things to others." "I'd like to know why as well." Wendy spooned another helping of grilled vegetables on her plate as she talked. "I can't believe that they just attacked without provocation." "Umhm." Swallowing down her food, Jane mused, "You're right. But what reason could the Natpackers possibly have. It's not like Nat's been treated badly this season. She's had more backbone than she did last year. I wanted to cheer when she stood up to Nick and told him that she'd had enough of his shenanigans and it was over between them." "Absolutely. So why did they start the war? Just so they could run around and cause trouble." Wendy stabbed her fork into a piece of chicken. "That sounds more like something the cousins would do." A thoughtful look crossed Donna's face. "We are sure that it was the Natpackers, aren't we?" "It makes sense. You heard what Dawn said after her meditation. And then there's the incontrovertible fact that every faction except the Natpackers was attacked at the start of the war." Jane sipped some more white wine. "Do you think they were trying to force Nick to pay more attention to Nat?" "No." Lillian interjected. She had been listening to the conversation with interest. "Not all of the Natpackers like the idea of Nick and Nat being together. Some of them even think that she's too good for them. And look at what they did to Nick's caddy." The others all nodded. Wendy said, "She's got a point." "You know what I find really interesting about the Natpack's attacks." Lillian, Jane and Wendy turned to Donna. "No-one was hurt in any of them. Humiliated yes, but not injured. It's as if they were trying to distract us. To take our attention away from something." "But what the heck could their purpose be?" Jane sat up and crossed her legs in half-lotus -- her favourite eating position. "I just don't get it." "No-one does." Dawn's voice rose over the other conversations, creating a momentary lull. "The only way to find out is to contact the NatPack and ask them they started the war." The various conversations died and the Die Hards concentrated on eating before their food got cold. And pondering on the reasons behind this war. ### A PREDATOR AND ITS PREY (Part 2a) by Lane Lombardia Time: 8:30pm EST Place: Toronto Julie Randolph sat alone, musing over the torments she had doles out to the other factions. She was all too pleased with herself, and was indulging herself in a particularly nice vintage of wine. The man wore an impeccably tailored, single breasted, charcoal grey suit from Ed Mitchell, of Westport, Connecticut. His mirror-polished wingtips were Allen Edmonds. The silk tie of midnight-blue with a Native American motif was hand made by J. Blades & Company of Monterey Bay. His sharply pressed white cotton dress shirt was Perry Ellis. The ZZ-Top song "Sharp Dressed Man" seemed to have been written about this tall, dark-haired man with the obvious tan and deep, dark eyes. His high cheekbones and slightly hawk-like nose hinted at his Iroquoian ancestry. He approached her smoothly, with no hesitation; but without the imperious attitiude which her "uncle" could so effortlessly exude. He spoke to Julie in a warm, deep voice, asking if he might join her. Julie wasn't sure; but with half the wine bottle already in her system, she was feeling particularly confident. She nodded her assent, and the man indicated to the waiter that he should bring the order which had already been given. The waiter brought a bottle of Dom Perignon, opened it in the exagerated fashion that people are wont to do with champagne, and withdrew. The dark, sharp-dressed man served them both, and they began to talk. He asked her about her life, her interests, and anything that she showed any interest in. She talked and he listened. Julie was surprised by his interest; but, it only served to reassure her. No one from another faction would try to pick her up in the middle of a war, she told herself. Besides, this really sweet guy didn't even know what Forever Knight was. Julie had decided not to tell him, since she didn't want to scare him away. Hours later, Julie was getting sleepy, so the man suggested that he see her to wherever she was staying. Having imbibed all of a bottle of wine, and quite a great deal of champagne, she wasn't exactly at her best. Julie agreed to allow this stranger who worked for the computer hardware and software mail-order company, take her to her lodgings, so they left, and hailed a cab. As Julie entered the cab, she noticed an odd, sweet smell, and then she didn't notice anything. The halothane she had inhaled, on top of the alcohol, had produced the desired effect. She had never noticed how much Lane, the mercenary was nursing his drink, so she never noticed that she drank almost all of the champagne all by herself. Lane, on the other hand, hadn't even finished a glassful. It was an old trick; but, it worked. ### INTO THE FRAY by Judith Freudenthal Time: 9pm EST It was Sunday evening and three tired travelers were glad to be home again. They had driven from West Palm Beach, FL to Tallahassee to St. Petersburg and then back to WPB over a five day span. Early Wednesday morning Judith Freudenthal and her parents packed the car and started for Tallahassee for her father's business trip. She was looking forward to the drive about as much as Klingons enjoy being around Tribbles. That had been the boring part of the trip. She had seen the inside of a bookstore, restaurant and so-so motel. Thursday night Judy and her parents arrived in St. Pete where she was to attend a Vulkon convention (Trek con) Fri-Sun. She was also supposed to meet up with Maryann Jorgensen and some other list members. Judy wished she had a laptop computer, knowing the avalanche of email awaiting her at home. She hated traveling during a war. Saturday morning Judy runs into Maryann. They talk about FK in general and the war. They did a little plotting for the war, both being Knighties, Natpackers and N&Npackers. Sunday nite Judy's dad found a package for her among the various Fed Ex, UPS packages outside the front door (when they arrived home from their trip). "Judy, this one's for you," her dad said as he handed her the package. Judy looked at the plain smallish box with no return address or markings other than her name and address. Curiosity got the better of her and she opened it, finding a rubber heart with an arrow through it. She found it odd. She did not order anything. Maybe one of her friends were sending her a joke gift. Judy booted up her computer after the luggage had been brought inside. She prepared herself for the nearly bursting email box. She emailed Maryann, Christine Hunt and Perri. She started downloading the FKfic digests to see what had happened while she waited for the replies. Marann had promised to email her when she got home Sun nite. After reading some of the digests she decided to head up to Toronto to help her friends in the battle. She loved excitement and looked forward to it. After reading the replies she was waiting for she knew she had to come up with a convincing story for her parents. "Mom, Dad, I have to go to Toronto. My friends need me. Maryann is going, as is Christine." "You just got back from a fun weekend and have work to do," Dad said. "I promise to work really, really hard when I get back. I will need my passport." "How are you going to pay for your ticket? Your hotel? Get from the airport to the hotel?" Dad asked. "A friend is paying for the ticket. A bunch of us are staying with him." "Is there anyway to convince you not to go?" Mom asked. "No. My friends need me," Judy said, knowing that if she stayed she'd just make her home and parents targets. They would not like that one bit. Dad gave her her passport as he said, "When do you have to be there?" "Around 8pm tomorrow night. I have to leave here about 9am tomorrow," Judy said as she gave her parents the details. Her parents walked her to the gate at the Palm Beach International airport, where her father gave her her blue soft-sided carryon bag. She had her backpack slung over her shoulder filled with the necessary items. She again wished she had a notebook computer. She hugged and kissed both her parents. "Call us when you get there. Be careful. Call when you can," Mom said. "I will." **** The flight to Orlando was smooth. She purposely planned it so she did not have to change planes. Maryann was soon seated next to her and was excited about joining her very first war. ***** The plane arrived in New York right on schedule. Maryann and Judy deplaned and looked for Christine Hunt. Maryann had on Mickymouse ears while had on her tan leather jacket, jeans and Nike boots. Judy hated the cold weather because no matter how many layers she wore she could never get warm. They had some time to kill before their connection to Toronto and grabbed a quick bite to eat on the way to their gate. The plane took off on schedule and the flight landed as scheduled. Chris took the time to brief them on a few war matters. They landed in Toronto and cleared customs. Nick was there to pick them up. *** Nick dropped Chris at her hotel and Judy and Maryann at his loft. He let them in before he went back to work. Maryann was excited to have met Nick and to be in Toronto. Judy was pleased to be more involved in the war this time, and knew to keep an eye out for trouble. ### PLOT TWISTS (Part 3b) by Wyndi and Diana Time: 10pm EST Place: Toronto Wyndi had nearly run out of steam. She'd finally removed her heavy cloak and was curled up on one of the few comfortable chairs in the place. Diana had driven off to fine some sleeping bags and assorted bedtime-type stuff while Wyndi stayed behind and, well, held down the church. Diana had also said something about furniture...but Wyndi didn't think much could fit in the trunk of that car. Most of the cow stuff was removed and burnt; all of the doors had been opened (except the locked ones, which left Wyndi moaning for lockpicks and the skill to use them), the Tarot cards were on the other side of the room, so she was safe, and there was NOTHING going on. She had tapped on all the walls; nothing secret that she could find. She searched all the boxes and stuff (a few old things had shown up, a couple old books she didn't feel like reading, a few lost gems safely tucked away...) She sighed again and stood up, pacing, her long gown trailing after her, pouches hanging about her waist fromt he thick metal belt, her sleeves ballooning out about her, and waited. Diana was having some limited sucess with her venture "Does EVERYTHING have to close on Sundays?" she thought, peeved, though her clothing kept getting odd looks. Didn't everyone go clothing shopping in a blue and purple dress with long fragments of cloth sewn together to knee level in the front, and on the sides sewn together down to some indecently short length and hanging raggedly to the ankles? She laughed. Great camoflauge too. She'd probably be mistaken for a Rai-ravenette in this fancifully medieval garb. On the other hand....that might not be a good thing. She managed to find some nice, wicker furniture and a number of flip and fu-er, um, family list... futons to bring back with her. Once they were packed in the trunk and back seat, (see, you don't need a caddy for adequate trunk space) and tied to the roof, two sleeping bags and some blankets stowed around them, she headed back to the church. ### IT'S MY PARTY... by Abby Albrecht Time: 10pm EST Place: The Raven Abby snuck into the Raven, hoping no one would notice her. All the Ravenettes were gathered around the bar discussing something that seemed important, but had no bearing on Abby's present actions. She had one goal for her trip to Toronto, and no bloody war was going to stop her. Making sure she went unseen, Abby found a quiet table against the back wall and sat down. She pulled a brown lunch bag out of her handy green trench coat and opened it slowly. Her eyes sparkled happily as she removed its contents: one lemon cupcake, a Coke, and a candle. She lit the candle expertly with a matchbook she lifted from her hotel, and began to sing... "Happy Birthday to me, Happy Birthday to me Happy Birthday dear Abby, Happy Birthday to me..." Abby blew out the candle and looked up. The Ravenettes were still engrossed in whatever they were discussing. With a shrug, Abby stuffed the cup cake into her mouth, took a swig of her Coke, and got ready to leave. Before leaving she pulled one more goody out of her bag. The Ravenettes turned in unison as the front door closed. Afraid of what an intruder could have done to their club, they searched around. On the last table they found the gift Abby left for them... A stack of cigarette boxes. ### BIRTHDAY! SHMIRTHDAY! by Dianne la Mercenaire Time: 10:15pm EST Place: Outside the Raven It was as Abby slipped back out of the Raven, her quiet little birthday celebration complete, that the attack came. Without warning, Abby found her long green trenchcoat flipped over her head from behind and a pair of strong arms holding her firmly--*professionally?*--and lifting her half off the ground. Before she could even think to scream, she felt herself bundled into a car, which tore off into the night.... ### THE STRANGER IN BLACK (Part 2) by Pamela Rush Time: 11pm EST Time: Toronto's Pearson International Airport The Stranger didn't linger; the only luggage to be claimed was already slung across a black leather clad shoulder that wove steadily through throngs of travellers at the Pearson International Airport. The car rental kiosk wasn't very busy at this time of night and it was only a matter of minutes before The Stranger faced the professionally cheery smile of the young woman at the counter. "Howdy--" "May I help you?" she chirped, peering into the shadows cast by the broad-brimmed black hat. "Need a vehicle." "Oh, I'm sure we can suit you! How about a nice Ford Taurus? They're so comfor--" "Nope." "Of course, if you want something sportier, we have the cutest little red--" "Nope." "Something a little...more..." she tried to guess what would suit this laconic customer. "Something *heartier*? Maybe four-wheel dr--" "Nope!" "A-l-r-i-g-h-t.... Do *you* have any ideas about what you might want?" "Yeah. Somethin' Ah kin git muh laig across." (Note: here endeth all attempt at Zane-Grey-phonetic-dialogue. No one really talks like that anyway.) "Oh! Of course. Well, let me show you what we have available." The Stranger regarded the illustrated listings with some distaste, running a black gloved finger over a Honda Gold Wing, past a Springer Softail, a Kawi' Ninja and a Suzuki Intruder. Finally, the digit of doom stopped at a Buell Thunderbolt and tapped lightly. "That'll do." "Very nice choice! I need to see a Canadian, U.S. or International driver's license and a major credit card, please." "Do you take FoD Express?" "Yes, of course!" In a matter of minutes, a dark figure roared off into the gathering gloom of the Canadian winter night with black coattails flying like ribbons of dried seaweed in a nabemono hot pot. ### THAT'S WHAT FRIENDS ARE FOR! by Dianne la Mercenaire Time: Late evening Place: The streets of Toronto "Hmmmmmphhhhhhh! arrrrrmmmmmmmmphhhhhhh..." Abby ranted helplessly and to no noticable effect. "*Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrmphfffpppttt...*!!!" she added with great feeling. "Oh *hush*!" Dianne's voice was muffled but perfectly recognizable...as was the friendly, but firm, thwap to the top of Abby's head. "Stop being such a nuisance!" "*IHM* bein uh nusuhnce???!!!???" Abby's punctuation was clear, even if her diction was suffering from having her head wrapped up in her own trenchcoat. "Jhst *yhoo* wahyt, Dyahnn...phshkt ...phtbbt..ahck...guuuuuurk..." Abby's enthusiasm, while quite impressive, was threatening to overload her currrent oxygen supply. "Oh for *heaven's* sake!" Dianne shook her head in exasperation--while carefully continuing to pin her fellow Merc to the back seat. "You know, Dianne," Diane E.'s voice came from the driver's seat, just as they swung sharply around yet another corner. "You seem awfully good at this kidnapping stuff...." her voice trailed off as she tried to connect two pieces of suspicion in her head, but couldn't make them fit _and_ keep the car on the road at the same time. "It's a gift," Dianne responded absently, her attention on her squirming charge. "O.K., Abby," Dianne said, deftly catching a stray elbow that had just narrowly missed her nose. "If I let you sit up...and _breathe_," she added pointedly, "Will you behave yourself?" "Lhk *hlllllllll*!" Abby managed with her last few molecules of air. "Very noble, dear," Diane responded with a smile. "I'll just wait until you pass out then." She looked absently at her watch. "Shouldn't be much longer...." "*Dianne*!" Diane's shocked yelp echoed through the car. "Oh, _all right_!" Dianne relented reluctantly, untangling Abby from the fabric. "Just put on those child-proof locks, Diane. We don't want her doing anything stupid." "What, you mean like trusting your '*friends*'?" Abby snapped as soon as she was able to surface. "I'll have the whole Guild on you for this one!" she threatened, her eyes blazing. "You can't attack your fellow Mercs anymore! We wrote a whole new paragraph into the charter after what happened between you and Maureen!" Diane's raised eyebrow was clearly visible in the rearview mirror, but the Merc just smiled at the fond memories of Wars past. "Ah, yes," she mused dreamily, "The 'Dianne clause'...." "No, no, *no!*" Abby insisted. "That's it! No flashbacks! Or I *am* outta here." "Oh, o.k.," Dianne agreed. "No need to be so cranky!" "She knows what the flashbacks *you* come up with are like!" Diane muttered from the front seat. But Dianne ignored her. "Besides," she added in her best 'But-you've-misunderstood-me- _completely_!...said-the-spider-to-the-fly' voice, "I'm not being paid for this! It's just a little favor...a freebie...." Abby nearly snarled at the heresy. *Freebies*? Now that's something that's *really*, *Really*, *we-ain't-kiddin'-so-don't mess-with-us!* against the Guild rules! Her plans for revenge were interrupted by Dianne. "Pull in right over there, Diane," she directed. "And kill the engine." "Are you _sure_...." "*Trust me!*" Dianne insisted. She did not deign to acknowledge the pair of snorts that followed _that_ comment. ************************************* The trenchcoat back in place...over Abby's vigorous protests..., Diane was now struggling to hold their captive while Dianne worked on the padlock that kept them from their goal. "*Hurry up*!" Diane hissed as Abby's elbow connected again. "_What_ is taking so long???" "Patience, dear...," Dianne whispered without looking up. "Patience...." The lock popped open and the Merc turned to Diane with a devious grin. "Piece of cake!" "Sure, whatever," Diane groused, thrusting the wriggling lump under the trenchcoat back at Dianne and stepping forward. Suddenly she paused...a horrible thought dawning on her. "Dianne? The elevator's shut *off*, isn't it?" she asked, already knowing the answer. Dianne shrugged. "Well, it's not like these are your standard visiting hours...." Diane groaned and looked up... and up... and up.... "Uh Dianne?" "Hmmm?" "Just *how* tall is the CN Tower again?" *** Wheezing, puffing, gasping and choking--in their better moments--the three figures finally made it to the top of Toronto's landmark tower. "Whoa!" Diane gasped. "Look at that view!" "Ugh!" Abby moaned, clutching at her side with a truly horrible expression on her face. "Just push me off now ...*please*!" But before Dianne could respond, the three of them were blinded by sudden glaring lights and startled by a loud, racous noise: "***SURPRISE***!!!" Struggling to focus her eyes, Abby made out quite a little crowd gathered around them. In front of her stood Karen Weston, Jill Kirby, Dawn Steele, and a regular gaggle of Die-Hards. Dianne and Diane were grinning through their breathless gasps. "Uh, hi!" Abby said confuzzled. "It's a cross-faction birthday party, dearest," Dianne explained as her breath came back to her. "Considering the state things are in and all, we thought it would be best to be, well, discreet about it...." "What, you couldn't do discreet at less than 1800 feet?" Diane muttered. Dianne pointedly ignored her. Dawn pulled a large package out of her bag, and handed it to Abby. "Happy Birthday!" She had this annoyingly happy smile on her face. "I love birthdays! There are November birthdays in my family. Busy month." Abby cautiously ripped open the package to reveal two hardcover books: "How to win the war and make a profit while you're doing it" and "Paranoia is a healthy state of mind". "Are these supposed to mean something?" She looked pointedly at the 'paranoia' book. "Shoulda thought of that when you left the Raven!" Dianne muttered with a smirk. "I've just included that for fun!" Dawn was still grinning like mad, and bouncing slightly. Suddenly she paused. "How did we get here?" Lana elbowed her in the ribs. "Hey! It's a Birthday! You don't worry about continuity on a Birthday!" "Okay!" Dawn wandered off to get behind one of the other Die Hards, still doing her bouncy-happy-Tracy imitation. "This's mine," Diane grinned, and handed Abby a decorative bag stuffed with that shiny mylar stuff. Abby pulled the bright blue strips out onto the table. At the very, very bottom was a small jewelry box. Abby opened it. Inside was a small enameled pin, in the shape of a shield, emblazoned with the device from Nick's tunic in "Be My Valentine". "I figured, if you were the Mercenary of the Knight, you should wear his device," Diane explained. Abby blushed, grinned, and pinned it on her shirt. "Cousin Deb would have made it," Dianne whispered to Abby, but she's in hiding." "Cousin 'I'm-really-a-second-season-Cousin-because-it's-so-much- easier-to-_see_-without-his-hair-*glowing*' Deborah is in hiding?" Abby whispered back in surprise. "Well yes," Dianne admitted, "I was surprised too. I mean this is a woman who's been known to verbally abuse random Secret Service agents because they get in her way!" Shaking her head, Dianne continued, "I think she's worried about her participation in a little...um...'incident' yesterday...." "Oh! She's been hanging around *you*," Abby snorted. "That explains a _lot_." Dianne just glared. "She said something about taking Spike with her for a little R&R--that poor fish has been through h*ll, you know!--but I don't think she ever found him. Last I heard she was headed to the Caymans for a bit while she waited for a certain...um...'Relative' to chill out a bit...." "Your next present is from everybody else up here," Diane E. announced. The various people included looked up in anticipation --Diane had taken up a collection and promised something *memorable*, but they were just as much in the dark as Abby. "Thanks to the connections of our fellow Merc, Alikhat..." Dianne butted in, shutting up at a look from Diane, who had made the arrangements and thus knew *just* how many Chocolate Caper Truffles this was costing. "Since you're so *very* young," Diane E. continued, grinning. "I'm *20*!" Abby retorted. "_As I was saying_," Diane continued, "For your party, we have arranged for the appreance of a very special crew of acrobatic, spandex-swathed, balloon animal-wielding..." "*No!*" Abby moaned. "...Mighty Morphin Power Ranger(tm) clones!" ************************************************* By the time the Power Ranger(tm) clones had finished their show and departed, the party had already pretty well broken up, the various participants tackling the long climb down either as soon as or while still they felt able to do so. "Happy birthday, Abby," Diane grinned. "C'mon, Karen, let's go get something to drink." "*Ooof!*" the tall, blond woman responded, looking at the stairs. "Yup," she nodded as she started down, "I'm gonna _need_ one!" "Whoa, time for me to go too," Abby said, removing the balloon crown from her head and starting for the stairs herself. "No, Abby, you can't leave yet," Dianne said off-handedly as she snagged the back of the trenchcoat again. "*Stop* that!" Abby whirled around to face her nemesis-for- the-evening. "_Why_ can't I leave?" "Because _I'm_ the kidnapper! That's why!" Dianne snapped. She immediately regretted her tone and looked kind of sheepish as she added, "Because you haven't gotten *my* present yet..." Dianne looked up suddenly at a point somewhere just over Abby's left shoulder and broke off with one of those patented, sneaky, send-a-sane-Knightie-running-for-the-hills Merc grins. Abby spun around quickly... ...and nearly choked. "*Nick*?" As the Chief Bri...uh...um... "Knightie" of Them All stepped down from the railing where he had landed, Dianne gave him her most sincere and winning smile (the _really_ high priced one!). "Thanks alot, Nick," she said as she walked to the top of the stairs. "I really appreciate it!" "Hey, anything for a Knightie, right?" he answered, giving Abby one of his infamous boyish grins. "Uh-huh," Dianne muttered under her breath, wondering if Nick knew anything about Abby's occassional, decidedly *un-Knightie- like tendancies.... "Well, toodle-loo, guys!" she waved, as she started the long hike down. "Have fun!" "Um...." Abby started. "Uh...," she continued brightly. "Dianne didn't think it was fair to make you do all those steps _twice_ on your birthday," Nick offered. "She asked if I could stop by and take you home...by...well...." "By air?" Abby volunteered. "Yeah," Nick grinned again. "I could show you some of the sights from up high...." Abby debated for just a second--after all, Nick always seemed like a...well..."less-than-steady flyer"...and *heaven* help them if he had a flashback! But what the hey... "That'd be great, Nick," Abby said with a grin. "Thanks a lot." ### ***Monday, November 6, 1996*** BUTTONS, BUTTONS, EVERYWHERE-- (c) by Partly Time: Midnight Place: Airport Partly once again stood in the cold wind of the airport, this time seeing her friends off. "It's too bad that you can't stay longer. I could use your help setting up all these great ideas that you gave me." "You want to hire someone to do my job while I'm up here?" Ray asked. "You couldn't find anyone who would take it." "And I just started this new one, it wouldn't do to take time off so soon." Robin smiled. "Not that I wouldn't like to hang around and see the results." "I'll let you know." Partly spoke louder, trying to overcome the planes engine noise. "Have a good flight." She watched the plane leave, then climbed back in her car. The radio came on when the engine started. It was playing 'War'. Partly grinned and sang along with the chorus: "War, What is it good for. Absolutely Nothin'". Well, in this case, the song was wrong. It was good for a lot of fun. Beware or you too will be perkulated. >:-> ### PEEPING COUSINS (Part 2) by Shirl Cline Time: 2am EST Place: An abandoned building by Nick's place Despite the number and variety of the tapes the Cousins had brought, they were getting restless. And desperate. It had been over seven hours since they'd started their surveillance. "Maybe one of us should sneak over there and spill something on him. Then he'd *have* to change his clothes." "I think we should do that as a last resort. I don't know about you, but *I* don't want to try and infiltrate the Knighties." "I wish I could remember the affiliations of the people I met at Cousin Laura's FKBBQ." Shirl said thoughtfully. "I know there were several Cousins, and at least one Ravenette, but there might of been Knighties too. I could be recognized if I tried it. Then again, I could get a wig, and wear my glasses. I was wearing my contacts when I met everyone before." "What about Gandalf and Merlin? This isn't their first war you know." "You think they'll be able to get in and do it?" "Of course. They're cats!" *** "Hey, look! Nick's going into his bedroom!" "They did it!" "What's Nick doing now?" "He's looking for something." "What?" "Maybe he thinks one of his followers is hiding in there." "Yeah, a peeping Knightie." They started laughing. They laughed even harder as Nick chased a Knightie from her hiding place. "Hey, I think this is it" Shirl said excitedly. "Got your camera ready?" "Of course. You?" "Yep. All right, then. LET'S GET NAKED!!" "Did you have to say that?" "Definitely." The duo watched breathlessly as Nick stripped down to his underwear. "Nick! Nick! Nick!" she chanted. "Nick! Nick! Nick!" the other Cousin chanted with her. Approximately five minutes later. (Use your imagination) "So, as soon as Gandalf and Merlin get back we can leave." "I want to wait til the sun's up. I'd hate to have gone to all this trouble just to have a vampire get us." "What should we do with the pictures?" "We should send them to all the Knighties. Can you *imagine* their reaction." "Don't forget the N&Npack." "Oh, and we *have* to get some sent to the computers at the police station." "Looking through windows and taking pictures isn't illegal is it? I don't want to be arrested." "I don't know. I thought I heard that in New York it's not. Anyway, who cares? We'll just have to make sure we don't get caught." ### PLOT TWISTS (Part 3c) by Wyndi and Diana Time: 3am EST Place: Vachon's church All the surfaces and candles in the open rooms were cleared of cows. Two rather tired, nearly asleep Vaqueros lay on a couple of futons near the door, both still dressed in rather archaic, but warm, clothing. "I wonder where they are..." Diana said softly. Wyndi grunted. "I'd say we jumped the gun, but there's evidence of people here, and cow damage done to the church. It's definately a war." ************************************************************************ Several time zones away in a number of directions, large crates with airholes and Live Animal Transport labels were being put into planes and ships to be transported to their destinations. From one of them, Queen can be heard to be playing, softly... ### INFORMATION IS OBTAINED by Dawn Steele Time: Pre-dawn Place: Toronto Dawn paid the taxi driver the exorbitant amount of money he wanted, and got out. She stared at the outside of the Toronto University library for a minute, and then went around to the back. The back door was open, just as she expected, and she crept inside. The basement wasn't well lit, and Dawn had to feel her way through the seemingly endless tunnels until she got to what appeared to be a dead end. She pulled out the written notes and a penlight, and tried to read the instructions she'd written down. "Press firmly against the steel bar at eye level, and twisl... and twist the decorative brick piece at the same time." Dawn stared at the wall. //What decorative brick piece?// She finally located it an uncomfortable distance away from the steel bar. //Bloody Victorian minds!// She strained for a few minutes, almost giving up at one point, before finally hearing a faint 'click'. The entire back wall moved aside. Dawn moved slowly into the pitch black corridor revealed, the small penlight a faint reassurance. The secret door had closed behind her with an ominous sound. After a seeming eternity, Dawn approach a comforting electric light. She moved into a room with furniture cobbled together out of odds and ends. Everything was functional, but looked like a mix between Salvation Army junk and stuff from the junkyard. She'd heard through the grapevine that one of the attacks had been on Urs wardrobe at the Raven. Apparently they hadn't known about Urs secret hideaway. "It's nice to see you again." Dawn gave out a small sqeak, and turned towards the voice. "You... you startled me!" "It comes with the blood." Urs moved closer. She was wearing old ratty jeans, and a worn-in, comfortable sweater. A far cry from the Madonna-like clothes she affected when in the Raven. Dawn wasn't sure how to act. She only had the confused impressions from the Forever Knight shows to go on, but she didn't Urs was a raving maniac-thirting-for-blood vampire. //But then again. Opinion on the list is fairly divided as to her intelligence level too...// Urs pointed towards the computer desk in the corner. It held a computer that contrasted sharply with the rest of the room by being extremely modern and sleek looking. "I've finished translating the microfilm you gave me. Not very interesting reading for me I'm afraid." She picked up a thick sheaf of papers lying on the desk and handed them to Dawn "Here's the hard copy of the translation." "That was a fast translating job." Dawn placed the papers in her backpack, and tried to unobtrusively sneak a look at the apartment and computer system. "Ummm... nice computer." "Yeah. I haven't had time to fix up the apartment yet, but at least it has electricity. Do you know Felix Twist?" She continued when Dawn nodded. "Great guy, and a fantastic sax player." Urs motioned Dawn over to one of the chairs, and then sat down next to her. "He's been trying to teach me how to hack into computer systems, but I'm afraid it's not a great interest of mine." "Do you do much translating?" "Occasionally. Languages have always been a specialty of mine. Whatever else the vampire life is, it certainly does give one a great deal of time to learn." Her face became reflective. "Vachon gave me time... Time I never wanted, but then that's Vachon's problem. He never asks if you want to be 'rescued'." Dawn smiled hesitantly, and almost didn't continue, but.. // What the hell, she seems to be in a forthcoming mood. I wonder if she's drunk? // decided to press on. "When my contacts led me to you... I must admit being a bit surprised." "That I speak fourteen languages, hold various degrees and have a hideaway with a secret passage connected directly to a library." She smiled. "You of all people shouldn't be surprised." Dawn looked uncomfortable. "I checked you out before I took on the job. Felix hacked into your records." Urs twirled a finger through one of her blond curls. "I wouldn't think that you'd have bought into the dumb blond stereotype." Dawn had passed uncomfortable and was now in defensive. "I'm a blond!" She patted her own hair, pulled back into a ponytail. "It's light brown with blond streaks." "Whatever." Urs stood up, and pointed towards the door. "You've got what you came for, I think it's time for you to leave." Dawn stumbled after her as Urs moved surefootedly down the dark passage. Urs had opened up the secret panel, and the brightness of the hallway light almost blinded Dawn. "Why do you do it then?" "Do what?" Urs sounded amused. "The dumb blond act?" Dawn really wanted to know. "Probably because it's what some men expect. If they don't look beyond the surface then they can be managed or they won't expect much from you." Urs touched Dawn shoulder. "And because when I grew up... It was how we were taught to be." The two women separated, and Dawn hurried out of the building without a backward glance. Once she was safely under the glow of a streetlight (sunrise wasn't till past 7 am), she pulled out a few sheets of paper. And started to laugh. ### ASK ME NO QUESTIONS, AND I'LL TELL YOU NO LIES by Partly Time: 6:30am Place: Police station Partly waited in the police station hallway for Tracy to come out. She was still finishing up paperwork and so Partly was forced to wait kicking her heels until Tracy came out. She had seen Nick, briefly, when she arrived, but didn't try to talk to him. By now he probably knew who she was, and she certainly didn't want to get into a cat-and-mouse conversation with him. Partly had the feeling that Tracy was going to be asking too many questions as it was. The war was progressing at a frighteningly fast pace and there was no way she could stay immune from it forever. The problem was, Partly had no idea what to do about that. The door opened and Tracy bounced out. "I'm out of here, Partly." She slung her coat around her shoulders. "You're buying?" "Anyplace you want to go." "Just around the corner is fine. They're a quite place." Tracy finished buttoning her coat. "I want to talk to you anyway." "What about?" As if she didn't know. "Nick gave this to me when I told him we were having breakfast." She handed Partly a pink, smiley faced button. "He told me that it was yours, and that -- and I quote -- 'She should be more careful in what she says than she is in what she leaves lying around'." Tracy headed off down the hall. Partly followed, grateful in the few minutes she got to collect her thoughts. By the time they ordered she decided that the best defence was a good offence. "So what is it you want to know?" "Why did Nick give you that button? And what did he mean by being careful what you say?" "I don't know. Why don't you ask him?" Partly supposed that he was just trying to make things difficult for her. Nick seemed to have a mean streak she never noticed before. Tracy snorted. "Ask him? He's not exactly in a asking mood. There are a whole lot of strange things going on around here. All sorts of odd people running around. Nick and Nat are both very distracted and are unreasonable jumpy. Then someone breaks into the station and sets up a new screen saver program that shows Nick in an *embarrassing* situation with the woman on the picture I gave to Jamie..." "Wait a minute. What picture?" "The picture I told you about. It was in Nick's desk. It was a woman in a bathing suit in the moonlight. It was signed 'Janette'." "You gave Nick's picture of Janette in a bathing suit to Jamie." Partly shook her head. "Why would you do that?" "I thought that he had put that stupid 'I'm a *good* cop' virus in my computer. I was just getting even." Partly was just about to say 'It was stupid', but she stopped herself. A person who had just sent button calling cards to almost everyone on the list really shouldn't lecture anyone on being stupid. "It doesn't matter. I guess we'll just have to get it back somehow." "What are you talking about?" Tracy brought Partly back to reality. "How can you get it back? How do you know any of these people? And why do I get the feeling that you know exactly what's going on?" The arrival of the food spared Partly of having to answer immediately. She could just hear it now 'Well, Tracy, you see it's this way. You, Nick, Nat, Vachon, this whole station is accurately portrayed on the television show *Forever Knight*. But the only people that recognize this are the people that belong to a certain list on the internet. Now we all chose up sides and every once and a while we go to war. I am you faction.' Sure that would work. She didn't know which would be worse: being hauled away to the nuthouse or having Tracy believe her. "I'm waiting for an explanation." Suddenly Partly had an idea. She leaned across the table to have more impact. "Tracy, have you ever known something to be true that is so unbelievable, that you couldn't tell anyone? And this -- thing that you know, it allows you to know things, or do things that you couldn't explain to others?" Tracy sat back in the booth, slightly paler than she was a moment ago. Partly know she was on the right track. "I don't expect you to understand, but that's the way it is with me. Yes, I do know some of what is going on and I'm here to help you, but I can't explain any more than that. It's just way too complicated. I probably shouldn't even be talking to you," Lord knows what the list rules regarding this sort of things were, "but I thought that with all of *this* going on, you needed to know that you at least had someone looking out for your interests." Tracy just sat there. "If you want me to, I'll go." "No." Tracy grabbed Partly's hand. "I do understand what you mean about not being able to explain things. It's just that...." "Listen, Tracy. Things are just going to be a little weirder than usual around here for a while. Then things will get back to normal." That sounded so strange considering normal was vampires. "You just have to go with the flow. Deal with the pranks and don't let them get you down. Call me if things get too strange." Partly was betting that anyone who accepted vampires as easily as Tracy had, wouldn't demand too much of an explanation from her. Tracy sat for a moment, considering. "All right, I guess. Things would be strange around here, even if you weren't, right?" "Well, maybe not *as* strange. At least this way you have some one to talk to." Partly smiled. "I have the added benefit of making Nick nervous." She twirled the button. "How can I pass that up?" Tracy stuck out her hand. "I'll ask you no questions." "And I'll tell you no lies." Partly shook her hand. ### A PREDATOR AND ITS PREY (Part 2b) by Lane Lombardia Time: 10:30am EST Place: Toronto When Julie woke, her face and hands had an odd sensation which she couldn't quite place. She got up from the bed, too hung over to wonder where she was, and staggered over to the mirror. It was then that she saw the most horifying thing that she had ever seen. Her face was covered with neon green and pink paisley. In horror, she brought her hands to her face, only to be even more horrified that her hands had received the same treatment. Adding the final blow was the typed note, "Don't bother trying to wash it off. It will have to wear off, which it will, in a week and a half." Julie ignored the note, and spent the next hour and a half trying to scrub the pigment off in the hotel bathroom; but it wasn't coming off. ----------------------------------------- Place: Merc Headquarters Lane sat at the table enjoying himself. The Polaroids he had made had come out really well. There was no question that he had completed his mission, and earned his commission. ### EXCHANGE OF IDEAS by Christina Kamnikar Time: 10:30am EST Place: Merc Central Chris sleepily stumbled down to breakfast in her maroon pajamas and black silk dressing gown (a duplicate of Nick's) and stopped short to find a rather slick-looking guy already at the kitchen table, chuckling happily over some photographs. It was either zillah, Berg, or Lane; she had no idea which, since she hadn't been introduced to any of them at Abby's party the night before. Carefully, soundlessly, she snuck up behind him and checked out the pictures. A zonked-out maiden with green and pink paisley all over her face was depicted on a rather tacky bedspread. "So, you're into photography?" she breathed in his ear. "You didn't sneak up on me, I could see you in the reverse of my shades," the guy replied, leaning back to get a better look at her. Christina straightened abruptly, since they'd already been a bit too close, and cocked a sardonic eyebrow at him. "And _this_ was a job," he said, fluttering the photos like cards. He swiveled the chair around and pulled down the shades a bit, and smiled. "Lane Lombardia. And you are---?" "Christina. You recruited me a month ago," she replied, going over to the fridge and taking out a small container of chocolate milk. "Right, I remember. 'Chaos.' You said you'd pick up a weapon for me at the Gathering if anything appropriate showed up." "What can I say," Chris shrugged, taking a sip of milk, swallowing, then saying "nothing appropriate was available. Of course, at those prices anything I picked up for you would have been more like a letter-opener than a sword. Nice coat, by the way." "Thanks. I heard you were on stakeout this weekend?" "We got done with my phase of it fairly early... but I think some of the others are still watching the club. So who was La Victima in the photos?" "No one you'd know." Lane grinned, flicking one picture after another onto the table. "Okay, what faction, then? If you're going to be so secretive..." "A Cousin. A little wine, a little starlight, and hello, face paint." "Remind me not to go drinking with you," Christina said dryly, then put the container of milk back in the fridge. "She'll be pretty mad when she wakes up." "Especially when it doesn't wash off," Lane gloated. Shaking her head, the other Merc rummaged through the cupboards for some bagels, then sat down at the table to put them in the toaster. "Cruel and heartless. Just like I heard." She paused for a moment, glancing at him. "So, the Cousins are going to be ticked at you for a while." "Nah. Well, yeah, but it's not like they're allowed to retaliate. They'll just go crazy trying to figure out who my client was. Why?" he asked, taking one of the bagels and munching on it without toasting it. "I'm trying to find someone who has an 'in' with them---the only one I know is one of my clients, and whose been too busy to talk about something I want to sell to them." "Something like..." Lane prompted, looking interested. Christina examined her nails, frowned, decided to repaint them later in the day, and said, "Oh, an old Sanskrit manuscript." "Really?" thoughtfully, Lane sat back. "Impressive. This *is* your first war, or am I mistaken?" "Oh, it is. I had help acquiring this... and..." Chris debated telling him the truth, but if he was going to be her agent, he ought to know. "It's not what you're thinking, unfortunately. I wouldn't be talking to the Cousins if it were. But they don't have to know that." Slowly, Lane smiled, and said, "I'll see what I can do." ### CALLING FOR HELP by Susan M. Garrett Time: Morning Place: The Raven "The floor is mopped?" asked Amy Susan looked up wearily, barely raising her head enough to look over the back of the booth. "Yes." "The bar has been wiped down?" "Yes." "I've seen to the receipts." Adjusting the fingers on her black lace, elbow length gloves, Amy smiled. "Then I think I'll retire for the day. Don't wake me unless there's an emergency." The smile disappeared and her eyes narrowed. "You remember what classifies as an emergency?" Susan nodded, barely able to keep her eyes open. "The end of the world. Nick showing up as a mortal. Or the abdication of Pierre Cardin." "Good." Amy swept from the room, accompanied by the swish of her lowcut, black satin gown. "Thank God," whispered Susan. She dropped her head to the table top and closed her eyes. Keeping up with Janette was bad enough. Keeping up with Amy-who-thought-she-was-Janette was a living hell. A tapping noise impinged upon her moment of self-pity. She raised her head and saw Alma standing beside the booth, toe tapping against the floor, arms folded angrily, eyes gold. "Uh, yeah?" asked Susan hesitantly. "--!" Furious, Alma pointed inarticulately in the direction Amy had taken. "If bosses me around again, I'm biting her. Enforcers or no Enforcers, I'm biting her and then I'm ripping out her fingernails!" "Okay, okay, I'll deal with it," promised Susan, as Alma stalked off in high (and slightly tacky) dungeon. A moment later, Jill dropped into the booth seat across from her, yawning. "Was Janette ever this bad?" "Only when she got in a mood." Susan rose from the booth, walked to the bar and picked up the cell phone. "I swear, if David hadn't taken over the books, I'd be a dead woman by now. Accounting dealing with a hoodoed Amy is just too much for any mortal to bear." She dialed the number, then waited. Her mouth was open, an entreaty poised in her lips, when she heard Nat's answering machine message. "Damn!" "Trouble?" asked Jill. "Let's just say the cavalry is on hold." Susan leaned against the bar, phone to her ear, and waited for the message to end and the line to beep. "Hi--this is Raven Central. If you've been looking for Amy, she's here. We haven't kidnapped her--someone's hoodoed her into thinking she's Janette and it wasn't one of ours. The problem is, she won't leave and she's driving us crazy. So if this is one of your clever little schemes, it worked and you can take her home . . . now. If this isn't . . . for God's sake, pick her up at the party tomorrow night. Alma's already snapped, Miklos is on a tight lead, and I'm ready to lock her in a room with LaCroix at this point. You know where to get back to me. And for God's sake, why don't you destroy those orange things Nat's been wearing while you have a chance? Give the woman a break." Susan slammed down the phone and looked up to see Jill watching her in amusement. "What?" she asked grouchily. "You couldn't resist, could you?" After a moment, Susan smiled. "Somebody still has to, right?" She shook her head and then headed for the back rooms. "I'm going to crawl off and find a corner to sleep. Either that or kick Miklos out--he's taken up residence under my favorite table." ### BEEN THERE, DONE THAT... by Jamie M.R. Time: 11:00 am EST Place: Toronto The photograph of a bikini-clad Janette was no longer in her possession. She'd handed it over to the one for whom she'd procured it; payment for a job well done. But she, the client, had a set of pictures which she liked much better. //Y'know,// she mused to herself, //you'd think that anyone who writes, in any way, shape or form, would be a hell of a lot more careful about the words they use -- and where they get them from. Take the words from someone else's pen, and you're liable to end up with more than you've bargained for.// Another glance at the Polaroids, and her composure crumpled into giggles again. //Well, she *wanted* the tattoo,// she rationalized. //She must've; she used my sig in her story an' everything...// //And now we're even,// decided the client cheerfully, and headed off to celebrate over cappuccino. //Karma's a lovely thing, 'specially when you get to help it along...// ### EMBEZZLEMENT IS AN UGLY WORD by Lana G. Soward (tiny bit of help from Dawn ) Time: Noon Place: DH HQ "Dawn, can I talk to you for a moment?" Dawn looked up at the question and nodded at Lana, who was standing in the doorway. Lana came in and quietly shut the door. She walked over and sat down on the opposite bed. "Jennifer printed up all the financial records from the DeBrabant Foundation for the past six months. I've been going over them for the past two days," Lana said. "Finally, I decided to work backward on it." She passed Dawn a sheet of paper. "If you notice, from October 30th, there's been a steady drainage from the account. Not a lot compared to what's on balance, but definitely a drain. The foundation usually donates chunks of money, not in little increments like that." "Do you think that the Knighties are using the Foundation money to finance this war?" Dawn asked. She knew that Nick had likely given them carte blanche with his credit cards. "At first I thought that," said Lana. She removed her glasses and rubbed her eyes, wishing that the little man, who was trying to pick-ax his way through her eyeball, would hurry up and get it over with. She put her glasses back on and picked up another paper. "Until Jennifer found this." Dawn looked at the paper. It was an electronic receipt confirming receipt of payment from the Brenton Temporary Employment agency. For one actress well versed in Shakespearian plays. The length of the contract was to run until November 19th. Until after the war. "Someone's syphoning money to hire an impersonator." "Here's a picture," said Lana. "There are so many people that I've never seen, maybe you..." "It's Amy. A Nat-packer.," said Dawn grimly. She shook that papers that were in her hand. "I think this is all the proof we need to prove to Nick and the Knighties, that the Natpack is behind the start of this war." Lana shook her head. "But I still don't understand why. I wasn't around for any of the other wars, but embezzlement seems particularly, I dunno, sleazy. And to think that Natalie probably condoned all this. It really shakes my faith in her." Dawn sighed. She'd always respected the Nat Packers. Knowing that they had started the war (see Meditation Time), and knowing that they were silently "attacking" the Knighties were two different things. She'd always assumed that the Knighties and NatPackers were a twosome. Fighting for the same goals and just using different methods. They might not agree, but for one to attack the other? "I think we need to do something about this." "Do you have any ideas?" "A few. I want to talk to Diane Elchelbarger first about what this." She waved the stack of papers in front of Lana. "She should be getting up soon, even if she's still sleeping in to recover from being sick. Why don't you come with me to check if she's awake yet?" "Sure." And so they went off... ### REVELATIONS OF NOTE by Dawn Steele Time: Noon Place: DieHard Headquarters Dawn and Lana moved out of Dawn's temporary bedroom and into the main section of Die Hard headquarters. Only half of the apartments current occupants were up, since they'd all stayed up quite late last night getting acquainted. They were almost at Diane's bedroom door when Lillian appeared. "Hi!" She hesitated, clearly torn over some momentous decision. "I really need to talk to you two." Lillian's eyes swept the apartment. "Alone." "Let's go into the kitchen. I don't think anyone is making lunch yet." Dawn said. The three Die Hards moved into the kitchen, and Lana started water boiling for tea and coffee. It looked as if they might need the refreshment. Lillian started to pace in front of the bemused Dawn and Lana. "I..." She sighed. "I can't deny it anymore. The lure is too great..." Dawn caught on. "You've decided to join another faction and you don't know how to tell us." Lillian smiled in relief. They didn't appear mad at her defection. "Exactly!" "I'm happy for you!" Dawn moved over to Lillian and shook her hand enthusiastically. "This is great! Do you mind me asking which one?" "Well... I've had Knightly leanings for a long time, and ..." Lillian's voice was still hesitant. "A Knightie? Hmmm." Dawn looked thoughtful. "Have you contacted Perri Smith or Catherine Boone yet?" Lana chipped in. "I called Knightie headquarters this morning." Lillian smiled. "They invited me to come over anytime." Dawn's face had gone from thoughtful to bright, as if a giant lightbulb had lit over her head. "I've got a great idea! Can you wait a day to defect?" "I suppose..." Lillian said. "Wonderful. Great, great, great!" Dawn was looking happy. Too happy as far as Lillian was concerned. "Lana and I are going to talk to Diane right now, but... we'll be back in a few minutes to finalize everything." Lana and Lillian just at Dawn. Lana finally asked the obvious question. "Everything?" "You know, the transition party!" Dawn had stood up, and was bouncing slightly in enthusiasm. "What's a transition party?" Lillian's voice was weak. "Well, it's the first time a Die Hard has ever changed factions mid-war while I was in charge and I want to do it right!" Dawn just looked at their blank faces, and decided to expound a bit. "Have a party, invite the Knighties, and have a little ceremony transferring you symbolically into their care." "They might go for it." Lana was getting into the spirit of the thing. "Do you want to have it here?" Lillian asked. A sensible question after all, she was still (technically) a Die Hard and a party would definitely breach the security of the headquarters. "Noooo... I don't think so." Dawn said. Lana decided to say the obvious... again. "How about 'the Raven'? It's big enough." "Good idea. I'd have to contact the Ravennettes though." Dawn replied. "Maybe the Cousins should be contacted too in case they get the bar back before the party takes place." Lana looked thoughtful, and then snuck a glance at Lillian. "*cough* *cough* It might be to our advantage to them." "Sure." Dawn picked up her mug of tea which had been mysteriously made sometime during the conversation and headed back to Diane's door. "You coming, Lana?" Lana patted the stunned Lillian on the shoulder, "Don't worry about a thing. I'm sure Dawn and I can work things out so everybody has a good time." Then she turned around and followed Dawn. They stopped outside Diane's door. "What do you have planned?" she whispered conspiratorily into Dawn's ear. "Shh! I'll tell you about it later." She knocked softly on the door, and the two Die Hards crept inside upon hearing Diane's invitation. "Are you feeling better?" Dawn asked. "I've only had one migraine in my life, but I know how it feels. Truly, a horrible experience." She shuddered. "Much better, thank you." Diane said. "I should be completely back to normal by tomorrow." "That's good news." Lana moved over next to Diane who was sitting on an armchair in her bathrobe and a Tigger nightshirt. "And have some good news as well." Dawn added. She handed Diane the sheaf of papers she'd been carrying around since the previous posts ("Information is Obtained, and "Embezzlement is an Ugly Word" for those for haven't paid attention) and handed them to Diane. "What are these?" Diane started to flip through the papers, a bemused look on her face. "That, my dear unaffiliated one, is what was on that microfilm you gave me." said Dawn. "Recipes? I've been going crazy over a microfilm of a COOKBOOK!" Diane fairly screamed. "Actually, some of them look pretty delicious." Lana commented. "I've been knocked unconscious, driven almost around the bend with paranoia, chased around Toronto, and wracked with guilt over Sandra's kidnapping by a COOKBOOK!" Diane was a little upset. Dawn could tell... "So what are you going to do about it?" Diane stopped her mini-tirade and stared at Dawn. "Do?" "Well. Sandra told Bruce, who told us that the Merc kidnapped Sandra. They have the other microfilm and they may or may not have been able to get it translated yet." Diane's eyes opened wide. "You mean they could still be coming after me?" Dawn patted her reassuringly on the shoulder. "Not if we make sure the other factions know exactly what's on the microfilm." She paused, and a wide grin spread across her face. "So tell me Diane... Can you cook?" ### THE INVITATIONS GO OUT by Dawn Steele Contributers and Participants (although they may not what they sent me) :) Catherine Boone [Knighties] Susan Garrett [Ravennettes] Roni Power [Knightie with FoD tendencies] Partly [Perkulators] Christina Kamnikar [Mercenary] Candice [Cousins] Time: After noon Place: Die Hard Headquarters The Die Hards were in the main area of the apartment, and the conversation level was loud to say the least. The topic? A party planned which they hoped to hold at the Raven on Tuesday night. Everyone wanted to give opinion on who should be invited, what the menu should be, what the transition ceremony should entail, etc. Even the guard dog, Tasha, was voicing her opinion with occasional growls. Finally, Dawn stood up to one side and practiced her "classroom management" techniques. The group gradually quietly, and Dawn stared into submission the last remnants of conversation. "All right. We're clearly going to have to delegate this." She pointed to the small group that had been the most active in peering over the translated recipes. "Diane, Laura, Jane and Jennifer will plan out the menu, and go shopping today for the necessary incredients." She stared at Diane Echelbarger. "I think Diane has the most experience cooking for large groups, so she'll be in charge." "Lana and I will try to contact the other factions and if they're interested. I was originally only planning on involving the Knighties, but... upon consideration I think that none of the other groups should be excluded if they want to come." Dawn paused and waved down the objections of a few Die Hards who had leanings in one direction or the other. "We're all Die Hards..." She stopped and stared at Lillian. "Well. Most of us are Die Hards, and we have a spirit of acceptance of any faction. I don't think it would be right to exclude them if they want to come." Dawn waved in the general direction of Ariel, Helen and Leah. "I think you three should check over the situation with the security. Make a sweep through the apartment and confirm that there haven't been any bugs planted in the last few days. We don't want our security breached while we're at the party." "Everyone else? Wendy's already started a list of things that need to be done before the part. I'm sure she'd like volunteers." The Die Hards scattered, and... ----------------------------------------------------------------------- A short time later, the invitations went out all over Toronto. Some could make it, some had other plans, and some... Well some were just in other parts of the world at the moment. ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Place: Nick's Loft "Delivery for..ah...The Knighties?" The delivery boy looked puzzled. Perri rolled her eyes and accepted the envelope, not without a certain amount of trepidation. She did remember to tip him though. Catherine appeared at her shoulder as various other Knighties looked up. "What is it?" Perri opened the envelope, resisting the temptation to get Nick to do it. what could they fit in an envelope. As she read it, her eyebrow climbed to new heights. "How do you do that, anyway?" Catherine asked, "and what is it?" Perri couldn't quite decide whether to laugh. "It's an invitation," she said. "At the Raven. From the Die Hards. A party." Incoherent, but everyone got the point. Amy's head popped up from the tv set. "Did someone say party?" ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Place: The Raven "Susan?" "What?" She didn't bother looking up from the calculator. Susan had spent the past three hours trying to figure out exactly how much gin they had left and whether she should order cocktail napkins by the case or gross. Kathy hesitated in the doorway. "We just got this message." With a sigh, Susan put aside the calculator, the tape spewing across the floor of Janette's office--which was still being returned to it's former splendor. "Can't Miklos handle it?" "He said he's delegating it to you." Kathy crossed the room and handed the message to Susan, then turned around to check out the office. "Wow! Is this what it used to look like?" "Almost. God knows what LaCroix did with the Mings . . . ." The message was straightforward--the Die-Hards wanted to throw a party at the Raven and were inviting the Ravens and Ravenettes. Which, considering that they were in war time, was awfully civil of them. It showed class and style and didn't surprise Susan at all--the Die Hards, refusing to choose, had more than a little Ravenette in them. Not that you'd always know it from their wardrobe . . . . "Kathy--do me a favor and--Kathy?" Susan raised her voice slightly, finding Kathy's attention firmly fixed on one of the more interesting ex-LaCroix ceiling murals they hadn't removed yet. "Yo!" Kathy started, then smiled. "Sorry. You want to send an answer?" "Tell the Die-Hards Tuesdays is fine. We can't provide food, but we provide drinks." After a moment, Kathy nodded. "Okay--I'll send them the answer via e-mail. Dawn's still running it, right? I haven't talked to her in a while anyway. But . . . haven't they invited the other affiliations to this thing? What if the Cousins show?" Susan smiled grimly as she drew the calculator toward her again. "Actually, I'm kind of counting on that . . . ." ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Place: Nick's loft - later Taking a break from her new day job while in Toronto, Roni went back to the loft for her coat and a quick Diet Coke before finishing deliveries. Spotting the messages next to the phone to call Dawn. Dialing the number on the piece of paper, "What in the world could she want with me?" "Hello?" comes a voice on the other end. "Hello, Dawn? It's Roni. I just got your message to call you. What's up?" popping the top on her Diet Coke. "Hi, I wanted to invite the FoD's to a party the DieHards are giving on Tuesday night at the Raven. Can you come?" Dawn asks. "But I'm a Knightie!" Roni protested. Roni could faintly hear some papers being frantically flipped through. "I've got you down as working at the 'Happy Souvlaki Deli'." "I work there, but I haven't moved over there... yet." Roni said. "Would you invite them?" Dawn's voice sounded harried, as if Roni's refusal might break the camel's back. "I'm sure they'd love to go." replies Roni eagerly. "Fine then I'll put the FoD's down as an yes." Dawn's voice paused, and then continued in a more questioning tone. "I've had quite a few positive responses... Do you think the Deli would be willing to help cater?" "They'd do anything to help spread the joys of good food." Roni said. "I'll get them to call you for the details." "Thanks." "See you then. Bye." Roni then grabbed her coat and headed back to work. ------------------------------------------------------------- Place: Perkulator headquarters Partly considered the invitation before her. She was thrilled that she was actually invited. But she wondered if she should accept. Since she had started actively participating in the war, she had become a great deal more paraniod. Someone might take offense to her little reminder that she was around. She wouldn't have anyone to back her up either. Hired mercs weren't always reliable. It would be the prudent thing to stay away. "Since when have I been prudent?" She spoke into the empty room. She quickly wrote a note to Dawn stating that she'd be there. The thought of staying away made her feel like Cinderella anyhow. Yes, she was going to go, and she was going to have a *ball*. ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Place: Merc Central Christina stared at the tiny email message on the screen. It wasn't very communicative, just "Mercs: Contact the Die Hards". She wavered over notifying Maureen, or some of the other Mercenaries, but //This could be a work offer.// Closing the door behind her, she picked up the phone and dialed DH headquarters. "Die Hard Headquarters, Dawn Steele speaking." "This is Christina Kamnikar, Mercenary." A moment of silence as Dawn measured her options. There was no need to tip her hand. "Is this in response to the email message?" "Yes. Do the Die Hards need any Merc services?" Dawn decided to choose her words with care. If Abby hadn't passed on the contract that Dawn had signed there was no point in letting Christina know about it. "I prefer to view it as an exchange of valuable information." "What do you know that I would want." Christina asked suspiciously. "I've managed to find out that one of the Knighties, Sandra, was kidnapped while carrying a ... microfilm." "Do you want it back?" Christina tried to keep the greed out of her voice. "Not necessarily." Dawn on the other hand, keep the satisfaction out of hers. "I know exactly what is on the microfilm." Christina's brain frazzled as the possibility that time would run out before she could make anything out of the microfilm. "Oh." "Precisely. The Die Hards are going to be having a party Tuesday night at the Raven. All the factions are invited, including the Mercenaries. There the contents will be revealed... unless certain parties are leaked the information ahead of time of course." Christina clued in. This was a shake-down. "What do you want." "I signed a certain contract with one of the Mercs, Abby. I'd like it destroyed." "What's on it?" Christina thought of what she might be able to arrange, //so much to do, so little time!//. "Nothing of great importance." Dawn explained. "It's only partially valid anyway." "Consider it ripped." Christina slammed down the phone, and hurried into Abby's room. After rummaging through her stuff, she finally located the contract. "Standard form... yeah... an I.O.U. D*am! I could've called that in!" Christina read further, trying to figure out what Dawn meant. And then she found it. "The Mercenaries are guaranteed never to be attacked by the 'Diet Hards'???" ------------------------------------------------------- Place: Die-Hard Headquarters Even though Dawn had said they had to be accepting of *all* factions, she -still- had a slight problem with inviting both the Cousins and the Ravenettes. Feelings were still high over the Raven's ownership after all. Besides... There was still that matter of her apartment being trashed in the last war. //Who was it? It was so long ago... Cousin Candice? Yeah. That's it. I've heard things about her.// Dawn pondered what would happen if those "things" reached the wrong ears. //Quite a controversy, I bet.// And if the Cousins were invited, LaCroix might show up. Dawn hadn't met him face to face since the third war and she didn't particularly want to. She stared at the last invitation lying on the table in front of her, wishing it would just go away. She'd already told the other DieHards that the Cousins were invited and she wasn't going to break her word. With a snort of disgust at her hesitation, she grabbed the invitation and went downstairs to meet up with the courier. ### WHERE IN GOD'S NAME *AM* I??? (a) by Julie Randolph Time: 2:02pm EST Place: A sleazy hotel in the middle of nowhere Cousin Julie sighed...damn Knighties, can't even take a joke. Humph. She smiled evily in the mirror and her pink and paisly green face smiled back at her. No worries, she'd get them back, and rightly so. She walked outside. There was a dirt road to the left, a dirt road to the right and nothing else. A little man wandered up behind her and tapped her shoulder. "What?" "Perdoname, senorita. Tu es cuantos dinero." Julie looked at him, stunned,"Donde esta?" He looked confused,"En Mexico." "COMO?" The little man backed away in fear,"Porque, si, es Mexico." Julie checked her pockets...whomever that man had been had robbed her too...she sighed, probably a damn Merc. Just be like Nick to hire one to get me back...oh no, if Nick did hire a Merc, that means that Screed...."Oh SHIT!" The little man gave up on her and hurried back inside the little hut someone must jokingly call an office. They had shipped her to Mexico painted green and pink...this was not going to go unavenged. Black jeans, a black shirt and bodypaint was not the way to walk down a road...her hair too, she found had cute pink and gree stripes running through it and all she managed to get was whistles from the passing drivers as she stuck her thumb out in hopes of getting a ride. All she needed was to cross the border, get to her bank account, and get back to Toronto...no problem...right? Wrong...she was finally forced out of sheer desperation to step in fron of a chicken truck until the driver had to either put on his brakes or stop, he actually looked as if he was considering going on. he laughed,"Esta en Musica Familia, huh?" "Si, yeah..thats right you dipshit, get me out of here." She climbed into the back, and procedded across the border into South Texas, and home. Her roommates took one look and died laughing,'What happened to you?" "I don't want to talk about it...just give me the phone." "No wait, wait, Iknow...you joined the circus and didn't tell us!!!" they fell on the floor in hysterical laughter. Julie growled. They stopped laughing. She tried to smile,"Just give me the phone." The phone was passed to her and she dialed CERK in Toronto,"Give me Uncle NOW!" "Ummm....who is this?" "NOW!!!!!" "Okie." She was a soft shuffling of voices, the souund of gasps and footsteps and this his soft and soothing voice crossed the phonelines, deadly in it's own way, but that gentle soothing nature that always made her feel calm, even in the most horrendus of circumstances. "This had better be important." "Uncle, it's Julie." "What? Where are you...you've been gone all day." "Ummmm...the Knighties hired a Merc to ship me to Mexico, I guess they drugged me after I drank practically a vat of wine." His voice dropped, that deathly softness that always sent shivers up her spine,"the Mercs..." "Yes, Uncle." "Go to the airport, there will be a ticket waiting. And Julie..." She gulped,"Yes, Uncle?" "I appreciate that you are trying your best during this war, and I appreciate more that you persecuted some of Nick's little band, but next time...don't get caught." ### SCURRY, SCURRY, HITHER AND YON... (a) by Julie Randolph and John Ewan Time: After 2pm Place: Toronto John sat in the truck for about a half hour staring at the cell phone. He stroked his goatee, sighed and picked up the phone. He had a piece of cellophane in his other hand as he dialed. "Hi, Cuzzin Julie?","Thi......John. Bad news, and Nick came in but I escaped. They left with them." "You can get that damn cellophane out of the way of my phone, I know it works you good for nighint....okay, okay...I'm calm...rREALLY I'm calm John, I'm taking a plane back to Toronto Tonight. WHY???? Because someone hired a Merc to paint me Pink and Green and ship me to Mexico, no thanks to YOU!!! No, you get you ass over to CERK NOW and I will let Uncle deal with you...I thought you had Screed under your control...you couldn't handle WHOM??? You let my prisoners get away because of NICK...oh, mucho malo, eatas mande muertos!!! GET TO CERK, I"LL BE THERE IN ABOUT 6 HOURS! John sighed, "Yer tha boss. I'm on my way." John dials another number, "Hi, Kathy! Things are going much better than I thought they would!" He pauses and smiles slightly, "Yeah, it's *that* bad. I need ya to Fedex me my lockpicks, my hat, our dice; yeah, all of our dice and my rosary. I see a corner looming in my future and it might get viscious. No, I do *not* want a axe!" He quickly gives the address to her. "Long-distance hugs to ya both!" John stops to pick up some touch up paint on the way. He pulls into a parking space in the shade, with the worst damage to the wall. John heads up to the door, gives a spiff twist to his mustache and knocks. ### PULLIN' OUT ALL THE STOPS by Cousin Candice Time: 2:30pm EST Place: LaCroix's Digs The sounding of the guest-buzzer startled Candice out of her daze. She removed herself from the mountains of papers and reports on The Cousins where-abouts and walked over to the wall to answer the caller. She pressed the button and said "Can I help you?" Candice started to get a little nervous, afterall, all the Cousins were at CERK milling about ..with the exception of erica, Bianca, and Jamie. Would they dare come here? Just as she'd decided no, the caller found his voice. "Uhh..is this the Cousins residence? I have a special delivery for you." Candice laughed and immediately felt better. It was probably just a message from CERK. They were working on uncovering the piraters from earlier in the week. Maybe they had come up with something. "Yes, come on up." Candice shoved a few stray papers on the kitchen counter into messy piles and made herself somewhat presentable. It had been another rough day managing Embris and keeping in touch with CERK. She'd paid a visit to the station earlier and found a few surprises -the remnants of the Hall sister's escapade, shredded Raven invites, a suit that needed to be taken to the cleaners, and some rather tasteless pictures. Candice had spent the rest of the day infront of a computer designing new public invites for The Raven as a result, and the last few hours at the printer's getting them duped. Not to mention the fact that the dye she'd bought decided to wash out in 2 days instead of the 8 she needed it for. She was once again a blonde. "Umm, hi? This is for you," the delivery man held out a shiney envelope in her general direction "I just need you to sign for it here on this line." Candice took what appeared to be an invitation of some sort and signed the deliverer's sheet. "Thanks..." she said absently dismissing him and concentrating on the invitation in her hands. "I'll just show myself out, if it's all the same.." The delivery man looked around the darkly furnish flat and shivered. It gave him the creeps. It looked like a tomb of sorts with the shades drawn, there was hardly any light in the place at all! Candice mumbled a parting and sat at the table. She stared at the surface. There was no return address on it, only the words "Cousins" on the outside, and the building's address and apartment number. Candice picked up her cell phone and dialed CERK. Maybe they knew something she didn't. Maybe. "This is CERK, where the Nightcrawler lurks, how may I help you?" "Zillah?" "Candice?" "Yeah, it's me, listen I have a question. Were any of you gifted with invitations in the mail today?" "Nope, not that I see. The only mail we've gotten here is fan mail, death threats, proposals of marriage, ..couple a gifts here and there, and oh --some chick sent our beloved Uncle here 'unmentionables'. Can you believe that?" "Zillah, after being tied to a statue and being a blonde, anything is possible as far as I'm concerned. Okay, hang on while I open this thing." "Are you sure you want to do that? It could be a mail-bomb or something equally as nasty." "Achy ..whatever it is, I'm opening it now." Candice adjusted the phone between her shoulder and ear and picked up the envelope. She slid her thumb under the flap and tugged out the paper inside. "Oh my..." "What? What is it?!" "It's an invitation. Zillah, it seems that the Die-Hards are having a coming out party. Do me a favor?" "Yes, cher?" "Tell those around you that we've got a party to attend to at The Raven, on Tuesday night, the 7th. Fashionably late should be good..." "Tuxes?" "No. But *NOT* casual. Dress to kill." "Done." "Thanks Zillah, you're a peach." Candice got up and rummaged through her packages on the couch, looking for the new little number she'd picked up on Queen Street (black, of course!) "A what?" "Nevermind. I'll see you then. Also, be on your guard. We're going to have to deal with quite a few disgruntled Ravenettes...and you *will* be their main target." "Mhmm. Well, we shall see what we shall see. Till then." "Right, thanks again Zillah." The second she hung up the phone, her new cat, Embris jumped up infront of her. Candice stared at the cat, still not used to having someone speak into her head at a moment's notice. "Listen cat, I *have* to go. I don't have much of a choice. We have to present the current 'owners' with a gift of sorts, and as The Cousin Mom (though it felt more like Babysitter recently), I'm required to show. Besides, it's in poor taste to ignore an invitation." Embris, tail held high and chin up, stalked off into LaCroix's room and curled up at the foot of his bed. ### IF THE TRIP THERE IS THAT DANGEROUS... by Cyrille V. Neuman Place: Grand Rapids MI "You're not Nigel!" I peeked into the little compact car and grinned, remembering my part to the newly devised code greeting, "You're not Ger. Hey there, Cathy. Thanks again for the lift to the airport." She shrugged it off and returned the smile, hers with a wistful edge,"I still can't believe you're going to Toronto for the War. Lucky. Yikes! Careful with that!" "What? Oh, sorry," I said when I realized I'd missed her head by mere inches when I tossed my huge aqua duffle into the backseat. I thought I heard her mutter something about Knighties, but chose to ignore it. Was that the elusive Michigan sun daring to show itself from behind the clouds? Enough. I swapped my glasses for my much-preferred prescrip shades and slid into the car. "Did you say something about me being lucky?" I asked," I certainly didn't feel too lucky when mom "accidently" opened my little "gift" from who ever started this. I know she still doesn't buy my story on why I got a *brick* in the mail!" "I thought you only actually posted to the list a couple times?" "I have! I was hoping I'd avoid battle damage since no one knows me too well. Evidently, no one is safe," I shuddered slightly and huddled down deeper into my beloved leather bomber jacket. "You won't believe some of the stuff they've done to Nick!" "Nick nothing! I hate to think what's been done to Uncle!" Cathy frowned at the thought and made a point of cutting off a semi (waaay too close for my taste!) "But are you sure you've got work and school covered?" I nodded,"Just barely. My folks, too. They think I'm trying out dorm life for a coupla weeks. You know what to do, right? We few FK fans have to look out for each other in this strange little city of Top Ten Lists." "Yes, yes, I know. I'm supposed to keep an eye on things and and take care of your mail," (Yaaargh! Another close cut, this one at a much higher speed!) "I'm not sure I like the idea of intercepting your snail mail, though. Isn't that illegal?" After rechecking my seatbelt and forcibly loosening my deathgrip from the arm rest, I snorted, "What would Lacroix think of such an attitude? No wonder you're just a niece! C'mon, Cath!" Her eyes took on that unnatural glow that always kept me in check as to our conflicting vampire preferrences (and made me *darned* nervous!) as she evilly intoned, "Yes, Lacroix...Bwaahahaha...." and "passed" another car. "It amazes m how you keep the review mirrors on this thing, much less your license!" I marveled, "But at least I won't be late for my flight like I am for the war! I'll tell you, it seems like I've been perpetually late for everything the past week, and now I'm coming half way in on this!" Cathy was still chuckling, "Too bad Mike E.T. hasn't been introduced to FK yet. Imagine all the chaos he could cause in Toronto!" "Hmmm. I could see him being a Raven," I agreed. (Geez, I've gotta get some Knightie friends!) Cathy was still doing that bone chilling grin thing, and I was starting to wonder if she would crash the car first before getting to the airport. That kind of trick wouldn't be beyond the possibilites of the War, would it? It was time to act and get her out of this Uncle induced state of mind. "Bum ba bu bu bum bum bum bum bum ba ba bum. Movin' right along in search of good times and good news; with good friends you can't lose..." "This could become a habit..." She had brightened at once and jumped in on Fozzie's part and we spent the rest of the ride singing Muppet Tunes. When we finally arrived at the airport, I jumped from the car (happy to have survived driving worthy of a Cousin), said "so long" and boarded a much safer mode of transportation: the plane to Toronto. If just getting to the airport had been so dangerous, goodness only knew what lie ahead at my destination.... ### HERE COMES THE SUN by Partly Time: 3pm EST Place: Toronto Partly sat in the corner booth of the diner, intently watching the door. Although she had hired a merc before, this was the first time she was actually going to meet one (the one she had engaged earily this morning via e-mail only) and she was nervous. Oh, well, it was the price of being a one person faction. She had sent a want ad to the mercs and Berg replied. Partly then set up a meeting in the 'last booth on the right at Mom's Diner'. She also said that she would be wearing a floor length leather duster, and black flat-brimmed stetson--it was her most secret agent-like outfit. She idly wondered if this "Berg" (another drawback to hiring over the internet, she had no idea who this person was) had gotten any buttons stuffed into his belongings. She hoped not. They had after all missed a *few* people when they were delivering the 'presents'. In the midst of her third cup of coffee she spotted a tall, stocky man with brown hair walk into the diner, pause hesitantly at the door, then cross over to her table. "Partly?" "Berg, I presume?" He nodded and sat down. Her natural hostess instincts took over. "Can I get you anything? Coffee? Dessert? They serve a great Hot Fudge Sunday here." "Coffee's fine." He smiled at her. "It's cold out there." "Not as bad as yesterday, but still, it seems early." The waitress brought the coffee. "I want you to break into the Raven." He raised an eyebrow at her. "You don't think that the Cousins and Ravenettes are doing enough damage? They seem to be remodeling every five seconds." Partly shook her head. "Would it be possible to have an electronic trigger that would turn a light on for a second whenever a word was mentioned in a song? For example, if I would play "You are my sunshine" could you make the light flicker on every time the word sun was sung?" Berg pondered this for a minute. "The trickiest part is the voice-recognition software. It shouldn't be too hard, but I'd need to have a copy of all the songs. I would need to program it with the voices of every singer on those songs. And I'd need to know what word you want as the trigger." "No problem. The songs are in this box." She patted a box sitting next to her. "You'll have to mix them in with the regular stock. I wasn't sure what they used, so I have them in several different media: CD's, Tapes, etc." Berg nodded. "Won't be a problem. But what if they have a band?" "They've got to have a jukebox or a DJ. They can't have a band *all* the time. Just place the songs around where they'll get used." Partly took a deep breath. "Will you take the job? And what's your fee?" "I'll take it," Berg said. "My standard rate is 1 lb of chocolate-peanut butter fudge per attack, plus any unusual expenses." "OK. You're hired." They shook hands over the table. "And what's the word you want to use as the trigger?" Berg got up and lifted the box of songs to his hip. Partly smiled. "Sun. And be sure that the lights only flicker on for a second, then go off again. I only want to annoy. I don't want to hurt anyone." Berg paused. "Hurt anyone. How could you hurt anyone by turning the lights on and off." "I don't want *all* the lights hooked up to this." She grinned. "Only these." She placed a case of light bulbs on the table. Berg stared at them a second, then laughed out loud. "That is truly...inspired." "Thank you." Partly said. And she very carefully handed him the box of *SUN LAMP* bulbs. ### A LONGSHOT FOR LONGPATH (a) by Lane Lombardia Place: Merc Headquarters The so-called "Alfred Mercs" had no affiliation with the Mercenary Guild, and had badly besmirched the name, Mercenary. There was no indication that these poseurs had been acting on the behalf of any paying customer, and their actions had come perilously close to ruining very lucrative contracts from the Cousins. In short, as far as Lane was concerned, they were *toast*. Lane spent the day making calls and working on a special presentation in the Merc HQ computer lab. It was extremely fortunate that the lab's equipment included a powerful audio-visual suite. ### THE BOX IS OPENED by Diane Echelbarger and Dawn Steele Time: Afternoon Place: DieHard Headquarters Diane E was sitting in her room at DieHard Central, making out lists of ingredients, cooking equipment, and such. Figuring out quantities from those old recipes was a pain, but her experience with midieval cookbooks in the SCA was a big help. As she added yet another item to the "Ingredients" list, a knock sounded on her door. When she answered it, Dawn and Lana were standing there. "There's a woman downstairs," Dawn told her. "Says her name is Karen Weston, and she has a box for you. You know anything about that?" "Well, I know she drove up here because she had something delivered to her house with my name on it," Diane explained. "I guess she didn't want to haul it back to Whitewater. She's a NatPacker, by the way, but she mostly lurks. I'm her middle kid's godmother." She glanced from one DieHard to the other. "Is that a problem?" "You're sure she's not involved in the War?" Lana asked. "We have to be really careful about security now that the invitations for the Tuesday night party have started to go out." Diane shrugged. "As sure as I *can* be. She only got into town Saturday night." "What's in the box?" "I honestly haven't a clue. Maybe we could open it downstairs?" Diane suggested. "Hmmm.... There *is* that empty conference room, just down the hall from the entrance," Dawn nodded. "If it's a trap, at least that way it won't catch anybody up here. Yes, that'll work." They took the elevator down, and Diane greeted her friend. With Lana's help, Karen maneuvered the big, unwieldy box into the conference room. Carefully, Diane tore the packing tape loose from one end. Cautiously, she lifted the flaps. The box was full of crumpled paper. Brightly colored crumpled paper, with lots of markings on it. Puzzled, Diane pulled one out at random and smoothed it between her hands. "It's a map," she frowned. "A road map of-- Connecticut?" She pulled out another, and another. "They're *all* maps!" The DieHards and the NatPacker started to pull out papers, too. They were, in fact, maps. Maps of cities, counties, states, provinces and countries all over the world. Maps crumpled at random and stuffed into a giant box. "This is *crazy*," Dawn muttered, smoothing out a map of Cairo, Egypt. "Why would anyone ship you a huge box of crumpled maps?" "I don't-- wait, there's something in here!" Diane exclaimed. Her hands had brushed up against something solid as she dug out yet another handful of paper. She burrowed, using both hands and shoving the maps onto the floor. Eventually, a giant, equal-armed wooden cross was revealed. It was a massive thing, made of 6x6 wood and standing upright about a foot from the end of the box. "A cross?" Lana objected. "This is getting *wierd*." "I think it's attached to something," Diane replied. "Help me pull it out." They each grabbed an arm-- not easy, in that confined space-- and heaved. The wood slid toward them, maps showered in all directions, and the mysterious cross was revealed as... ..the base of a signpost. A large, old-fashioned wooden signpost, painted white. It had two old-fashioned arms, the ends cut to look like pointing hands, at right angles to each other. "CHAOS" was painted on one and "CONFUSION" on the other. They stood it upright and looked at it, buried knee-deep in crumpled maps. "Weird," Karen muttered, pushing her glasses back up her nose. "I don't get it," Diane admitted, staring at it in utter confusion. "What *is* this, some kind of really strange joke?" "When did this arrive?" Lana asked. "A few days ago, why?" Diane started to look the signpost over more carefully but there didn't seem to be any additional markings on it. "You may have been hit." Dawn added helpfully. Lana continued when Diane's blank face revealed nothing but confusion. "All the different factions received a 'gift'. It's what started the war. The DieHards got taped Jeopardy music through the mail." "This may be your 'gift' as an unaffiliated Forever Knight fan." Dawn explained. "You mean, this is like some kind of War token?" Diane asked. "You all got these card things?" "That's right," Dawn said. "What did the NatPackers get, Karen?" Diane asked her friend. Karen's eyebrows rose. "I don't know." She sounded surprised. "*I* didn't get anything." "Nothing?" Diane asked. Karen shook her head. "Nothing." "Maybe whoever it was overlooked you, because you don't post often?" Diane suggested. The DieHards exchanged significant looks. "It's possible." Karen glanced at her watch. "Look, I've got to get going. I won't be home before the kids are in bed as it is. Take care." The two friends hugged good-bye. "Hug Andrew for me," Diane said. "You *did* remember his Mountie hat this time, didn't you?" "Bought it this morning," Karen nodded. "Be seeing you." "Bye." When she'd left, they all turned to stare at the signpost. "What am I gonna do with *this*?" Diane sighed, hands on hips. "Even if the car *weren't* already jammed to the rafters for the trip back, it'd never fit...." "Let's just carry it upstairs for now," Dawn suggested. "I think the other Die Hards will be *very* interested to hear about this." They stuffed it back into the box. Dawn and Lana exchanged another 'significant' look. "You know, Diane... I think it's time we told you something about the NatPackers." Dawn said. ### BRINGING THE COWS HOME (Part 1) by AC Chapin Time: Afternoon Place: University of Maryland "OK, um, travel me to Toronto!" People were starting to stare. AC stamped one booted foot in annoyance. The Plug was *not* being cooperative. How the heck was she supposed to steal Nick's supply of Litovuterine-R tainted cow blood if she couldn't get to Toronto? Finally she jumped down off the brick platform and bent over the nearby sewer grating, as though looking for something she had dropped. Her dark hair fell over her face, obscuring it from passers-by as she whispered down into the pit below. "Um, guys, excuse me, your evilships?" A plume of thick white steam rose up in to her face and she heard gurgling below. "I'd like to go to Toronto, if you wouldn't mind me using your plug and all." What sounded distinctly like a "Hmph, so what?" rose with another plume of smoke. "Well, I'm going there to steal some blood, and I don't really want to keep it for myself, so I was going to give it to you guys, but since I can't seem to get to there now..." Thick steam started boiling up from every sewer grating on campus. Usually things didn't get that bad until mid-December. Lips hooked in her usual crooked grin, AC climbed back up onto the Plug. Before she even had the chance to make up something stupid, she was standing in the storage room at Nick's loft. Before her eyes, the two remaining vats of blood (he must have finished one off during the last three years) disappeared, with a definite slurping sound. AC sighed in relief, that part done, anyway. She didn't really worry about having made a deal with the dark powers that lived under the University of Maryland campus, after all, how could they cause any trouble? It wasn't like *anyone* was stupid enough to get himself posessed by one of them... after all, that might be too much for even Uncle to handle. The harder part of her current task still remained, though. Nick would still have bottles in the refrigerator. She had to replace those with the bottle she had brought, to make sure Nick got the full effect of pure cow blood after three years of Litovuterine-R. //on a scale of 1 to 10// she thought to herself, //10 being mildly stupid and 1 being Nick, this is about a 2, you do realize that? If you get caught, Nick might be mad, the Knighties might get even, but what Uncle will do I shudder to think.// //yup. But it's fun.// she answered herself. She crept out into the loft kitchen. Nick was probably up sleeping, and she didn't see any Knighties around at the moment, probably all sightseeing, or plotting, or rescuing each other or something. She pulled the three bottles of blood from the fridge and replaced them with the one new bottle of pure cow blood from the supermarket; she had been lucky to find one that was such a dead ringer for Nick's usual bottles. Two of the old bottles she managed to stuff into the huge pockets of her trenchcoat. Just then she heard voices, elsewhere in the cavernous apartment. The third bottle fell to the floor with a crash, splashing cow blood all over. AC couldn't keep an "ICK!" from comming out. Then she ran like hell, ending up flat on her face *again* this time with steam rising all around her. Ah, safe, home. On the sewer grating. She poured the two remaining bottles of cow blood straight down into the sewer, and carried the empty bottles up to her room. At least she would have some souveniers, and the cow blood had mainly splashed on her trenchcoat, which was *everything*-proof. And within twenty-four hours, Nick should be hiccuping and having flashbacks like there was no tomorrow. Back at the Loft, an hour or so later... Nick stumbled down to the fridge, waving blearily to the Knighties, who were watching old episodes on his huge TV. One of them assured him that with the size of this screen, they almost always got Alyce with the socks. He puzzled over this for exactly twenty seconds, and then decided that he just didn't want to know. These Knighties were taking a *lot* out of him. He peered blearily into the gleaming white (somebody had *cleaned*) of the refrigerator and found only one bottle of blood left. Weird. Unless maybe some of the Knighties had Natpacker leanings and were subtly trying to bring down his intake; not that it mattered, there were *vats* of the stuff in the back room. He considered the protien shakes for a moment, then shook his head, pulled out the cork to the bottle with his teeth, and drank deep. And if he hiccoughed just once or twice before falling back into bed, surely the Knighties didn't notice, or if they did, they found it endearing. ### A STRATEGIC WITHDRAWAL (Part 1) by Gaylin "Jasmine" Walli with input from The Unkindness Time: Afternoon Place: Toronto People always laugh at me when my pager beeps. Normally I have a very calm demeanor, but beeping is one of my weaknesses. Natural paranoia tends to exaggerate the problem. I've learned to live with it. Most of the time, that is. Needless to say I nearly knocked over Kathy trying to get away from myself when it went off during lunch with some of the Ravenettes. Cynthia, David, Lorelei and I had just sat down when the damn thing sent me squealing. They all got a good chuckle. "Good grief, Jasmine! Don't scare me like that." Kathy managed to steady both of us as I shot out of my chair. She's quick. I'm sure it comes from the fencing she does. I frowned, reaching for the pager. "The modes must have gotten switched when I was sleeping last night. I usually let this vibrate so it doesn't suprise me. Sorry. It's this somewhat irrational fear I have of beeping noises that I'm not expecting." Cynthia chuckled, "Ain't technology grand?" Closing her eyes, she quoted "'Fear will drive men to any extreme. And the fear inspired by a superior being is a mystery which cannot be reasoned away.'" "George Bernard Shaw." said David almost immediately. We'd been having this friendly little game of 'Name that Quote' all weekend. Cynthia with her English background, was winning. David was second. Kathy and I were trying to catch up. But about the pager. It's one of those little Motorola Advisors. You know, the ones where you can see a whole message at one time? Great little toy. And mine was reading the one message I had been waiting to see for days: It has begun. Shipments delayed. Difficult. Expensive. Decided you still owe me. Watch Wednesday news. "Yes!" I jumped up again from the table and started doing a little happy dance of joy. Who cared if I owed Joe a favor? This was worth it. I profferred the pager to the table to let them see the source of my amusement. "I called in a favor." "Shipments of what?" asked Lorelei, looking curiously at the pager's display. "Ah, now that's the question, isn't it?" I grinned and rifled through my pocket for a moment before pulling out a small object and placing it on the table. David poked it with his fork and then looked up at me. "Is that what I think it is?" "Yes. Yes it is." Slow smiles of comprehension began to dawn. Then the chuckles started. "This will be good. Very trying, but very good." Kathy was wiping tears from her eyes. "I can't wait for Wednesday." I decided to leave the coffee bean in the middle of the table while we finished lunch. ### INTERVIEWING THE VAMPIRE by Ron the Enforcer and Jane Snyder Time: Afternoon Place: Die Hard Headquarters Diane, Jane, Jennifer, and Laura had been cooking for the party all morning. The smells of cumin, coriander and garam masala had permeated every nook and cranny of Die Hard headquarters. Jane had finished with the samosas and slipped out of the kitchen for a short break. She sighed quietly and sat on the floor in the living room, leaning back against the couch. She lifted her cup of tea and breathed the aroma of the lemon. It was still too hot to drink, but the scent was helping her relax. Ron the Enforcer and a couple of Die Hards were huddled over the battery of computers and screens. Jane couldn't identify who the Die Hards were from the backs of their heads. Faint murmurs of sound came from them but nothing intelligible. Jane sipped her tea and watched them wistfully. She really wanted to help, but had no idea what they were doing. Her computer expertise was limited to data entry, working with word-processing programs and basic setup. Computer hacking was like magic, producing miraculous results from a series of unintelligible words and phrases. Her eyes returned to Ron the Enforcer. His jacket and vest had disappeared while they were out, and the sleeves of his shirt were rolled up. This was the closest she'd ever been to a real vampire. Her heart began to pound a little harder. Questions that she'd dreamed about asking tumbled through her mind. As if sensing the eyes on his back, the Enforcer turned around. Jane buried her nose in her empty cup, but it was too late. He'd seen her. "Can I help you with something?" Jane looked up. He was standing directly in front of her. Blushing furiously and cursing the fair skin and blonde hair that made her turn so red, she tried frantically to think of something to say. "Oh..no. I mean..that is... I was just..." The Enforcer sat down in front of her, resting his glass on the table. "You're curious." Gathering her scattered brain cells, Jane swallowed hard and threw her caution to the winds. She might never get another chance like this again. "Yes. I've always wondered what it would be like to be a vampire. Living forever. Getting to see the future unfold." The Enforcer contemplated her question for a long moment before responding with a wry grin, "It's not like in the movies. They make being a vampire look like it's really glamorous or fun. *Lost Boys* it isn't." "*What* is it like?" "Annoying as hell," he stated but she could tell by the twinkle in his catlike gold eyes that he wasn't *completely* serious. He knew she was beginning to find his evasiveness aggravating and he added quickly, "Okay, no more jokes." "I'll *try* to be serious. It's just that I never really sat around thinking contemplating my existence. You want an existential answer to your question, ask Nick. *He's* the self-absorbed one, not me. I just know that being Kindred, um, that's what we call ourselves - has it's ups and downs. The plus side *is* what you said, getting to see the world change and develop. Living through history." "When were you..." "Brought across?" he finished the question for her. "A bit before Uncle," he replied using the fannish nickname for LaCroix. "I was born in Rome, before the Caesars came to power. I was in the military, a scout to be exact. I got wounded in action and when this person I thought was a healer came by and asked me if I wanted to live, I said, yes. Little did I know he meant forever." "Did you stay with your Master for a long time? Like LaCroix and Nick?" "Not super long - he was a real loner. He basically taught me what he thought I'd need to survive and left me to my own devices. Most of what I know I was taught by friends or figured out on my own. I learned how to fly completely by accident." "Accident?" Jane had a mental image of the Enforcer being pushed off a building -- in the same way baby birds were taught to fly by their parents. "Yeah, I accidentally slipped while hiking in Nepal with some folks who were on this quest to find Shangri-La. I started falling and *something* kicked in because instead of going down I began to go where my *mind* wanted me to go, which was back up and onto the path. Got back so fast no one knew that I'd been gone. Was kinda freaky. Spent a lot of time after that teaching how to fly around without hitting things or landing like a gooney bird." Jane bit her lip to stop herself laughing -- she wasn't sure how the vampire would react. He added, "Ever see *The Greatest American Hero*?" Jane nodded and he added, "Yeah, that was me when I first got airborne. Spazzing out all over the place." The image of Ron flailing about wildly before crashing on his nose (like the fellow in the TV show) was too much for Jane. She started laughing, so hard that she almost spilled her tea. Luckily she managed to place it on the floor before more than a few drops spattered on her clothes. He was right when he pointed out that he was *nothing* like Nick. Ron had his faults -- the way he kept ogling all the Die Hard ladies when he *thought* they weren't looking - was a little annoying. No one had ever caught Nick mentally undressing anyone. Nor had they caught Nick talking non-stop about *anything* (Ron tended to keep his motor mouth focused on computers, which were his *thing* currently.) It seemed to Jane that vampires were a little like humans in one respect - they all had very different personalities.... Ron drained his glass and got up asking, "You want anything? I'm getting a beer." "Beer? You can drink beer? But I thought..." "I can drink anything - it's solid stuff I can't handle," he told her. "Nick could drink anything he wanted to as well, he just *thinks* he can't. And that's what's holding him back - he's got all the misconceptions. Not that LaCroix was much of a help in that area. He never gave Nick the chance to *really* go out on his own and explore. Nick never hiked up the Himalayas or walked the length of the Great Wall." Jane's eyes widened. The Enforcer had done a lot over his lifetime. She was beginning to wonder how someone who has probably been everywhere in the world would *choose* to come to Toronto, not to sightsee, but to help some people he barely knows with their War efforts. 'I'm here because I *want* to be here. I was in the last 3 Wars and I always had fun hanging out with my Net compadres," Ron said answering her unasked question as he handed her a beer. He popped the top off of his adding, "You guys are *fun*." "Thanks," Jane replied taking a sip of her beer. She hadn't even felt him reading her mind. Switching mental gears, she asked, "What made you decide become an Enforcer?" Ron *almost* did a spit-take but managed to keep the beer in his mouth. "Uh, well, that's kind of a long story," he began. "You know the goon squad that almost got Nick and that reporter lady who took movies of him flying?" he asked. "Uh, huh." Jane leaned forward. She was *really* interested in this answer. "Well, they are one type of Enforcer," he stated sounding none-too-pleased to be in the same category as those others. "They are Hit Marks. Their job is to do the actual destruction of Code breakers. I'm an investigator. If a report comes in about a suspected renegade, I'm the one who goes in and checks it out. If I find out the story is true, I call for back up and, well, I guess you know what gets sent...." Jane didn't have to get it spelled out. Okay, so Ron wasn't the bad kind of Enforcer - he was more like Nick, a cop of sorts. She could live with that. From the look on his face, it was pretty obvious that he didn't like talking about work, so she said the first thing that came into her head. "Do you have any family?" As soon as the words popped out, she regretted them. Asking a 2,000-odd year old vampire about his family was not too smart. "Yeah, I have daughter. Also have a son of sorts. He's not blood kin. I adopted him during the Second War. His name is John and he's studying to be a doctor right now. He used to be really active on FORKNI-L until his school schedule got too demanding. Usually he'll post a "hi, I'm still alive out here" kind of post during breaks. John's a good kid. And being a doctor means he'll *never* have to feed off of anyone - he can just get his drinkables from the hospital blood bank." Relief and surprise flooded through Jane. She'd been thinking of parents, etc., not fledglings. "You...never made any others?" "Nah. When you bring someone over, it's like being a parent, y'know? You have to teach the new one, look out for him, be responsible for him. Even when he knows the ropes, there is still that connection which lasts forever. I was too into travelling and being on my own that I didn't want to be held back by the responsibilites of parenthood. However, that changed about a decade ago when I got married. Doing the kid thing felt right then and, well, I, um,....reproduced." //He got married!?!?!?// That was the last thing Jane expected to hear. He shrugged sheepishly and pulled out his wallet. From inside he pulled some photos of a blonde haired lady holding an equally blonde little girl on her lap. Another photo was of The Enforcer and the little girl, who looked about four or five. She had LONG blonde hair and reminded Jane of the cherubic children one often sees on Japanimation shows. "Wait a minute. Your daughter isn't a fledgling vampire? You *had* a child?" "It *is* possible for us to have kids with mortals on very *rare* occasions. You see, the mortal has to possess a certain gene." "Umm...I think I've heard about this before. I thought it was just a myth though." Jane handed back his pictures. "I *was* right about you. You *aren't* an ordinary vampire!" Ron grinned. "And you and the rest of the Die Hards are pretty extraordinary too!" he stated. "Anyway, I gotta finish that program I was writing..." Questions were still tumbling through Jane's mind, but she realized immediately that he was telling her gently that he was finished being interviewed. Maybe she'd get a chance to ask them another time. "Yeah, I guess I should get back to the kitchen." ### A PARTY PLANNED (Part 1a) by Cousin Toni with a lot of help from Sara Orel and PartlyK Time: Afternoon Place: Somewhere on the West Coast, U.S. Cousin Toni put down the phone with a sigh. Stretching in her comfortable chair she checked the list in front of her. She or her helpful receptionist Sue P. Fox had talked to about 30 people and managed to line up the cream of the NW Riot Grrrl crowd for this very special private show. Sue had gotten Kathleen & Bikini Kill to do it as well as Rachel and the new C.B. Barnes band, most of Sleater Kinney was game and Laura's new band was interested although passports might be a problem as the Australian woman seemed to have perpetually misplaced hers. Another contact lined up and 7 Year Bitch. Toni herself had begged Donna and Team Dresch to go along for the ride telling Donna as her official oldest-but-one groupie she was owed just this one tiny favor. Sue had asked Madigan to back her with cello from "Killing Your Clone is Still Murder." Most of the bands had just been told is that they were playing a private party for someone in Toronto and that all their expenses were being taken care of. Kathleen had wanted to know a little more about *why* they were doing it, but Sue told her it was a favor for her boss. Donna wasn't happy about the whole travel thing, just coming off tour, but she did love to play. She'd been working on a rude song about the local constabulary and had promised to try and work in a few choruses of "I'm a good cop" as part of the favor. Flying first class charter with a crew to handle the gear & sound equipment wasn't the usual mode of transport for this crew, but no-one was complaining. Apparently some relative of Toni's was picking up the tab. They'd hired the best all-woman sound crew available and made arrangement for some awesomely sized speaker stacks to meet them in Canada. Toni had also hired a very skilled Merc who was already on the scene in Toronto. She wasn't sure how Sara was going to get the assorted 17 Riot Grrrls, 2 tattooed sound women, (one of Amazonian proportions, the other tiny) and the assorted multi colored and unusually dressed crew of roadies & fans that were sure to hitch along, into Tracy's quiet neighborhood apartment but hey, that's what you hired a Merc for, right? And she'd heard Sara was very competent. "Yes, little miss sunshine is going to love this!", Toni thought fondly. Just as she was about to head home early for a well deserved hot tub and massage, a federal express package arrived at the front desk. Sue came in bearing it with a puzzled expression. "This is funny, it's orange & purple just like the regular envelopes, but..." Sue began. Toni snatched it up. "Very observant, Sue", she said with a grimace and began ripping into the package with the small knife she carried at all times. The package indeed resembled a Federal Express envelope, but had strange markings under the labels. "Must be that Lurker FedEx I've been reading about". She turned away into her office shielding the package's contents from her curious employees. Once in the privacy of her office she shook the package. Under layers and layers of bright, perky packaging she found a small yellow button with a smile face. "Arrrrggghhh!", she dropped it as if it burned. Being old enough to remember the _first_ time such awful symbols had been in vogue,she had an absolute horror of 60's and 70's nostalgia. "Necrophilia", she been heard to roar when her P.D. suggested nostalgia radio was coming back. "Allright, that was it". To hell with Uncle's instructions to hide out and play with them. She picked up the phone again and said urgently, "Sue, can you get that charter person back on the phone please, we're going to need another plane". Then she spoke across the desk to her startled partner, "I've got a party to catch in Toronto"... ### THE STRANGER IN BLACK (Part 3) by Pamela Rush Time: Early afternoon Place: Happy Souvlaki Deli The Stranger in Black expertly jiggled the Gold FoD Express card under the old-fashioned latch; the Happy Souvlaki was an old building and the exterior facade never really received as much attention as it ought to between Wars; some of the back windows had gaps between the stretchers and the frames that you could've...slipped a credit card through. In another moment, the window screeched upwards, protesting the separation of many layers of old paint. A black snakeskin boot was thrown over the sill, Spanish rowels scratching amongst the paint flakes, followed swiftly and silently as Oysters Rockefeller slide down a throat by black twill trousers, black wool vest, black leather coat and a wide-brimmed, black felt hat that threw a black shadow across the grim features. Even as the window was forced firmly back into its original position, loud voices suggestive of altercation could be heard eminating from the front of the establishment. The Stranger touched the thick leather belt that fit as naturally as whipped cream on top of cappuccino, settled the heavy holsters tied low on each hip and . . . smiled. It was going to be a good day. ### THE FODS TURN A HIT Or: The Stranger in Black Draws Down by Pamela Rush Time: Early afternoon Place: The Happy Souvlaki Deli Pamela rolled her eyes at Christine who mouthed back with understandable irritibility. Pam shrugged in agreement and made a face indicative of a person beset by minor but agravating forces of evil, like when the hollandaise suddenly goes all lumpy. The first round of Health Inspectors last Friday had been, if not precisely welcome, at least a serendipitous source of support when they ended up assisting in checking the Deli's stock for abnormalities. But a *second* round of Health Inspectors bursting into the Deli with with unseemly violence and uncouth demands seemed a bit petty-minded and was certainly a tiresome interruption on a busy weekday afternoon that was that much more hectic due to the last minute preparations for the celebration at the Raven Tuesday night. Deciding swifly on delaying tactics, Pamela caught Christine's and Sherry's notice with a surriptious hand signal and signed in AMSLAN. As the Health Inspectors continued their noisy tirade, waving their arms about in witless excitemnt, Christine and Sher moved forward to draw their attention, putting on a pretence of ignorance and inefficiency, and Pamela faded back a bit to where she could see Colin, who was standing in the doorway to the kitchen passage looking thunderstruck. She was just about to sign to him to get Andy and Tony when she heard a sound that froze her blood like hand-cranked maple-pecan ice cream: hard and cold, ringing out metically over the gruff voices, she heard: *ching* *ching* *chinka-ching-ching* Colin's eyes widened like raisins plumping in brandy and he flattened himself agains the wall in the narrow hall to make room for the mysterious figure that seemed as much made up of the shadows of the passageway as appearing out of them. The Stranger in Black, SPanish rowels jingling on black snakeskin boots, took one step, then one more, into the room. Sudden silence muffled the room like whipped cream on hot apple pie. With FoD-empathy, Pamela sensed rather than saw the faintest quiver of hand, the instant flash of eye . . .and she screamed out: "FoDs *down*!" hitting the floor with much more haste and much less grace than was her custom. In one-tenth of a second, only the confused Health Inspectors and the Stranger were still upright. With no discernable movement, the Stranger's hands were abruptly full while the heavy holsters swung empty. Deadly fire power blasted across the room, gouts of thick red liquid splattered pristine linens and the Health Inspectors collapsed, holding their huge clipboards up in vain attempt to shield themselves from the fiery missiles of pain, screaming and writhing and crawling under the tables as the deadly fire covered the room. In seconds it was all over. Men lay groaning and scrabbling feebly at burning faces and streaming eyes, one or two instinctively crawling towards the door. The FoDs and were scrambling to their feet; Tony and Andy appeared in the kitchen passageway beside the shaken Colin and all three young men gazed awestruck at the silent Stranger. Pamela had to call them twice to collect their attention and then motioned them to "assist" the fallen Health agents out the front door as speedily as possible. As they complied, the FoDs gathered around the Stranger, who was calmly reloading empty weapons. "Well," said Pamela, "how nice of you to come, Cousin/FoD James Kythe! But you would have been welcome at the *front* door, too, you know!" The Stranger shook a sorrowful head at the naivite of the older FoD, but wisely refrained from attempting to explain The Cowboy Way to a middle-aged matron from Terre Haute. "We haven't actually met before," interrupted Christine, "because I don't get up to the Northern Hemisphere very often, but I'm Christine Hawkins, the *other* A-negative FoD." She extended a hand, carefully avoiding any approach that might bring her close to the deadly sidearms. "James Kythe Walkswithwind," answered the Stranger, shaking hands very firmly. "Also known as--" breathed Sher admiringly and offering her hand in turn, "--the Jalapeno-Gila Kid!" "Oh, yes," exclaimed Pam, brightening, "tell us what, er...calibre you used....? And did you bring us some, too, I hope?" as she casually scooped up a glob of the lumpy red liquid liberally decorating the nearest tablecloth with two fingers and licked it appreciatively. Cousin/FoD James Kythe patted one holstered Super Shooter and said simply, "Arizona Gunslinger Jalapeno Salsa (*tm)," and, tapping the butt of the other gun, "Scorned Woman Serrano Sauce (*tm)." "Hhhhmm," agreed Pam, huffing a cooling breath, "I think this is the 'Scorned Woman....'" "Brought some Iguana Red Pepper Sauce (*tm), too, some Trail of Flame (*tm), and this," the Gila Kid dug into a deep coatpocket and offered Pamela a small, golden jar. "Oh!" Pamela accepted the jar reverently, tears welling up in her eyes. She clutched it to her bossom and turned away from the other FoDs, making a motion with her hand that indicated her wish to compose her feelings in private. "What--?" asked Sherry. "It's Prickly Pear Cactus Honey Mustard (*tm)--" began the Stranger, but no further explanation was needed. "Oh, Donny's favorite!" cried Christine. "Made by the *Scottsdale* Mustard Company!" sniffed Sher, feeling rather overcome as well. "Don *loved* Scottsdale...." All the FoDs bowed their heads in silent tribute to the sunny southwestern community that their idol had idolized. "All right," said Christine, ever practical, "now we have business to conduct, party food to prepare, battle plans to execute. No more time for...." No one, not even Christine, liked to say it. Everyone missed Don Schanke but the catering must go on. Don would have wanted it that way. "Let's get back to it, people!" ### SURPRISE, SURPRISE Or: Elizabeth Gets a New Wrinkle in Her World View by Elizabeth Lewis Time: Just before sunset Place: CERK Central Elizabeth watched the last of the Cousins leave CERK Central. She had spent a lovely day playing with her new laptop and admiring all of her new clothes, but now she was bored. If she didn't find something fun to do--like tying up more NatPackers, as she had a few nights before--she was going to go find a hotel room, charged to LaCroix's credit card, of course, and get some sleep. She wanted to be well rested for the party Heather had invited her to tomorrow night. Turning back into the barren radio station to collect her belongs, she accidentally bumped into LaCroix. Jumping back, she murmured an apology. Even if he wasn't a vampire, M. LaCroix certainly had a formidable presence, which commanded her respect. Giving in to an urge to be helpful, she asked him. "Are you hungry? I could order a pizza." LaCroix gave her a narrow smile, moving past her. "Yes, I'm quite hungry. However, a pizza is unlikely to satiate my appitite." Elizabeth shook her head. "You know, you can stop playing around with me." LaCroix turned and looked at the young girl before him. He didn't quite trust her--she was a Merc, not a Cousin--but it was hard to distrust someone who stood less than five feet tall, with long golden brown hair and pink cheeks, and looked so much like... LaCroix squashed the last thought, but the girl's perfume of roses--*white* roses--brought his beloved flower irressitably to mind. Getting his mind back to the here and now, he said, "What do you mean?" Elizabeth perched on the edge of the brodcasting desk, letting her feet swing. Her long loose skirt fluttered around her ankles with each pass. "The vampire bit. We both know it's just a hoax, even if all your followers seem to want to believe it." LaCroix advanced on her, but she met his eyes calmly. "A hoax? Does that mean you are calling me a liar?" Elizabeth laughed. "Come on, don't try to fool me. Vampires don't exist. They are a myth, a creation of a diseased mind..." She looked at him for a long second, and slowly said, "You really believe it, don't you? My God, you're a lunitic!" LaCroix placed a hand on the desk to either side of Elizabeth's hips, and leaned his face close to hers. "I am," he said, biting off each word with icy disdain, "two thousand years old. I have seen things that your puny little mind can not even begin to comprehend. I have abilities that you can't even dream of obtaining. I am not a liar. I am not insane. I AM A VAMPIRE!!!" Elizabeth scooted backward on the desk away from him, knocking the microphone over in her haste to escape. "You're crazy! Nutso! Loco! I..." She dashed for the door, which she should have been able to reach, since she was on the right side of the desk and LaCroix was on the wrong. Somehow, he made it there before her, and yanked her away from it. Elizabeth turned to face him. Smiling in a way that made cold chills run down her spine, LaCroix rose a foot into the air. And stayed there. Elizabeth stared at the empty space between the floor and LaCroix'sfeet, then up at his glowing gold eyes and gleaming fangs. Smiling weakly, she did what any other self-respecting person would do in a similar situation. She collapsed into a dead faint. ### WHERE IN GOD'S NAME *AM* I??? (b) by Julie Randolph Time: 8pm EST Place: CERK Julie stepped into CERK headquarters. The Cousins stood in bewildered awe,"How cool...isit all over you?" Zilla wanted to know. "None of your damn business, Zillah!" "Wow...you certainly are colorful," and they all died laughing. Julie growled under her breath,'The Mercs..." The Cousins looked up,"The Mercs...their not a faction, their for hire..." Julie looked up into Zillah's eyes, her golden gaze locked with his and an evil he had never before seen glistened there,'They are now." Cousins Lisa and Cherri wandered over whisteling,"Man...the Knighties?" Julie shook her head," the Mercs....." ### SCURRY, SCURRY, HITHER AND YON... (b) by Julie Randolph and John Ewan Time: After 8pm Place: CERK "Hi, I'm here under orders, reporting to Cuzzin Julie!" Cousin Zillah looked up,"You're sure you want to do that?" John took a deep breath,"Ummmmm....yes?" Cousin's Cherri and Jamie wandered over, "Oh, she's not a happy camper right now...and Uncle's pretty pissed too." "I gathered from our conversation." "Back there...be slient and carry a big stick." Cousin Candice laughed from across the room. Cousin Julie turned to look at John, Uncle hovered over her, looking...not pleased. John stifeled a snicker until Cousin Julie grabbed him by the throat and backed him into a wall,"I'll say this once, and only once...you will fix my truck, you will bring me Screed, and you will help me with the plans for tonight...doI make myself perfectly clear?" John nodded and scampered away. ===== John spends the day hammering out dents and repainting the now tortured shell of Cousin Julie's truck. ===== Later that evening he wanders towards the sewers to get Screed, he certainly was not facing this wrath alone, after all this was not COMPLETELY his fault anyway. ### HIC? by AC Chapin Time: Evening Place: AC's room AC was curled up on her bed, suffering. Cramps and midterms. Ick ick ick. She squeezed her stuffed vulture, Eore, and pouted extensively. Eore suffered this in silence, being used to such treatment, and having poly-cotton fill where his brains ought to be, and not having a mouth to complain with anyway. Finally, to relieve some of the boredom, she turned on the master unit to the subliminal units she had placed in certain key bedrooms (and churches) in Toronto. She switched to unit 1-B, the one in Nick's loft, and turned it on monitor mode. "Come on, Nick, snap out of it!" it was a woman's voice, annoyed. Slightly faint, so they must be down in the main part of the loft. "Leave him alone, Perri, it's just a flashback." another woman. "Well, it's the third one since he's been up!" "What set him off?" "Amy was talking about this party at the Raven tomorrow night, Apparently the Die Hards are sending someone across." "I wish you wouldn't put things that way!" "Look, let's worry about Nick." "So he's having flashbacks, what else is new?" At this point, AC couldn't tell one voice from another, but the next sound, and the voice that followed, she knew all too well. "*Hic*! Sorry, you were saying?" "Nick!" from a variety of female voices. Giggling, AC turned the thing off. If the Knighties didn't get Nick on some other type of blood, or find some way of counteracting the effects of the Litovuterine-R first, this party at the Raven was going to be *very* entertaining. Personally she hoped they tried some other kinds of blood first. Who knew what the Litovuterine-R had done to Nick's ability to digest, say, pig? The only really safe blood would be human, and Nick wouldn't do that (would he?) Too bad the effects lasted only three days, or she could have given Uncle a solution to the problem of getting Nick back on human blood. Party... hey! Maybe she'd get to see Nick with the hiccoughs after all. And since the Cousins weren't holding the Raven at the moment, there was some hope that if she went she wouldn't be running into Uncle. Cramps all but forgotten, midterms forgotten completely, she hurried to the closet. What to wear, what to wear? ### A LITTLE HELP, DARN IT by Perri Smith "Perri?" "Yeah?" "I'm getting worried." "Me too." "He's been flashbacking for two hours. It's like he doesn't even know what century he's in." "I know." "Do you think he's drunk?" "All he had was blood." "The party's in a few hours. What if he's still sick?" ". . . I don't know." "Catherine? I think we need to call someone who can take care of him." A long pause. "Yeah." *** Catherine, Perri and Amy met Natalie and Jennie at the door, hands set on hips and lips tight. "We know what you did," Perri said bluntly. "We've been too busy to deal with it, but we know. And we haven't told him yet. That's your problem, " she told Natalie pointedly, who had the grace to look slightly embarrassed under the younger woman's glare. "And we wouldn't let you anywhere near him," Amy continued, "But *we* care more about him than revenge." "At the moment," Catherine inserted. "I don't know what your reasons were -- I *will* find out -- but if you hurt him again, we'll have you for lunch," Perri finished. Natalie nodded. She understood their loyalty, and appreciated it. "What's wrong with him?" she asked quietly. "He's been having constant flashbacks for about two hours. We'd think he ws drunk, but all he's had is the cow blood that was in the fridge," Catherine answered. "I'd like to see it," Natalie said. They let her walk to the refrigerator, but didn't accompany her. She felt the strength of almost twenty glares all the way. "Well," she said, blinking at the food in the fridge before pulling out a bottle and checking it, "It looks perfectly normal. This is the only one he drank out of?" she asked. "Yeah, we think," Amy said. "But there are two others in there, he might have had one of them." Natalie checked agin. "Nothing else in here but food." "No way," Judy said, "There were two other bottles there this morning." "Yeah, we were going to tease Nick about keeping them in there after we asked him not to," Paula said. "Well, there's only one here now," Natalie confirmed. "Could he have drunk them?" "No empties," Marina pointed out. "Waitaminute..." Catherine's eyes caught the splash of color on the floor. "What's this?" "Looks like blood," was Natalie's expert opinion. "Did he break another bottle?" "Not since he's been up," Perri said slowly. "He just took the one chug then went strange. And there were three bottles when we left this afternoon." "Get me a sample of that blood," Natalie said, slipping into doctor mode. "I'm going to take a look at Nick." She saw Perri motion towards two of the Knighties with her right hand; the two silently followed Natalie up to the bedroom. "Was that necessary?" Jennie asked Perri. "I don't know, *ally.* Was it?" Jennie sighed and looked vague. "You don't understand..." "Why don't you try to make me understand?" Perri said loudly. Three people shushed her. "It was all for the greater good that we called you here," Jennie intoned cryptically. Perri gave her a strange look. "A phone usually works better," she said. Jennie seemed to take that as a cue, and started muttering, "ET phone home. ET phone home," underher breath. Perri gave her the dirtiest look inhr repetoire, then cut the NatPacker off. "Drop it. All I care about right now is Nick." She turned to the blood on the floor, to find Matt there ahead of her, carefully picking the blood up on a wet towel. "Here you go," he said, holding it out to Jennie who looked at him blankly. "Fix him." "It won't be that simple," Natalie said, returning from Nick's room. "I think he's been drugged." "With what?" three people asked. "I'm not sure, but I have a sneaking suspicion it has something to do with three missing bottles. Let me take that," she took the towel from Jennie, "back to the lab and run a few tests." "Nat, the party.." Jennie reminded, gazing around the apartment as if she'd never seen it before. Natalie looked at the stubborn, worried Knightie faces surrounding her. "Nick comes first, Jennie," she said. "Right," Jennie said after a long moment. "I'll call you as soon as I have something," Natalie told the Knighties. They just nodded, and watched the two leave. *** Judging by how fast they answered the phone, someone must have been sitting on it. "This is Natalie," she told a nameless Knightie. Said nameless Knightie immediately yelled, "Perri! Catherine!" "What's wrong with Nick," a voice demanded a second later. "Is this Perri or Catherine?" "Neither, they're with Nick. It's Amy. Um, Amy Denton." "How is he?" "Wierd. Very wierd. And getting wierder. What's wrong with him?" Natalie sat back in her chair. "The blood you found on the floor was laced with traces of something that resembles litovuterine." "The so-called cure." "Yes. But this is a different concoction; I can't begin to guess what the effects will be. But you need to feed him on pure blood." "We did. With the other bottle, the one you took." I know that was pure," Natalie said. "But it made it worse. The only thing I can think of that has never hurt Nick is..." she stopped, then forced herself to say, "human blood." Amy paused for a long time. "Well, there are lots of donors around here," she said reluctantly. "No!" Natalie stopped her. "I'm on my way over with some blood packs. Just keep him there until I come." "Okay," Amy said. "We'll be here." She hung up without another word. Natalie started to be angry at the rudeness, but gave it up. *** A half-hour later, Natalie was sitting next to Nick, who had aparently worked his way up to the sixteenth century, judging from the babbling about Elizabeth Regina. Natalie set up an IV, extremely concious of the Knighties clustered around the bed, watching suspiciously and worridly. "How long will it take?" Judith asked. "Shouldn't be too long, with his metabolism," Nat answered, starting the IV. "Good," Perri said, then turned around. "Everyone out and get ready for the party." "The party?" "Yes, the party," she said firmly. "Whoever did this to Nick, we're not going to give him or her the satisfaction of taking us out of action. We're going to the party. All of us," she finished, looking down at Nick. "You tell them, Perri." "Nick!" Perri, Catherine and Amy leaned over him anxiously as he opened his eyes and looked around groggily. "Last time I looked," he answered, before looking up at Nat. "good evening, Dr. Lambert." "Hello, Detective Knight," she answered, shooting a guilty look at the three Knighties, all of whom stared back impassively. "I was in the neighborhood and heard you needed some medical care." "Oh really?" He sat up, running his hands through his hair. "Ah, ladies, what's going on? I was.... remembering." They started to explain,t hen realized how much time it would take. "Get ready for the party, Nick," Amy said. "You're going to need all of your strength. We'll explain on the way to the Raven." They headed for the door, pausing pointedly for Natalie to join them. She went after a backwards look at Nick. "Natalie?" he called after her. "Thanks for your help with...whatever it was." She bit her lip. "You're welcome. I'll see you at the Raven." And twenty pairs of Knightie eyes followed her to the door. ### A KNIGHTIE ARRIVES... by Corvia Noctis Time: 10pm EST Place: Toronto Corvia stepped out of the gate and was amazed to see how cold it was in Toronto. She shivered delightfully in he black wool trench and mused about the cloudy breath she had just expelled. Winter was here! She hailed a taxi with enthusiam as the cold wind hit her. "Where to, miss?" the cleanshaven driver asked her as he threw her cargo bag and satchel in the trunk. She was dazed by the cold and didn't hear as she slid into the back with her notebook and backpack. He repeated the statement again as she was removing her black beree from her head. "Sorry, I was just overwhelmed. I live in the mountains and its barely been winter there. I want to go to..." she faltered. She had just traveled 1500 miles and forgot the address in Mel's room. She could just hear him commenting that she was a scatterbrain. She hit on an idea as her hand smoothed down a bulge in her back pack. "Please take me to the Raven night club, I'm sure you know where that is." She had regained her confidence as a plan was quickly taking root in her mind. The cab pulled away into the night and the only light Corvia responded to was that of her laptop as she was furiously typing away... ### CORVIA GOES TO THE RAVEN by Corvia Noctis Time: 11pm EST Place: The Raven The cab stopped on front of the Raven just around 11pm and a much refreshed Corvia stepped out. She tosseled her dark brown hair once more, straightened her trench coat threw her bags over her slim shoulders and walked into the club like she belonged there. She had missed three days of the war and was shocked that the Raven looked as she liked it? Cousins were milling around in what seemed to be choas and she couldn't help herself and started to laugh. At the sound of her histerical laughter, not unlike that of Kudachi Kuno, the Cousins seemed to break out of their disorganization. They turned almost as a whole to stare at a Knightie in their midst. Cousin Jamie recovered first. "Who are you?" Jamie asked. "I am Corvia Noctis, friend of Cousin Lashoka, I want to see LaCroix about a business deal." she opened up her bag of goodies and pulled out a liter bottle of water. Then she turned the lable for all to see. The cousins shrunk back and Miklos disapeared from the bar... ### DEVIL'S DECISION by Cousin Zillah Time: Late Night Place: CERK In which our hero comes out of hiding, turns over a prize that might poison a cause, and attempts to make a deal with a power without any leverage of his own. ------------------------------------------------------------ "Here." A figure in black dropped a folded sheaf of papers on the desk and sat down opposite LaCroix. LaCroix looked at him and then the document. It was more worn than it had been the first time he saw it, had new wrinkles and softer edges that showed it had not been traveling in a briefcase lately. LaCroix looked studied the figure seated before him. Zillah was dressed in all black. He was, after all, a Cousin. Black turtle neck, black collarless shirt, black jeans, black army boots. The only color on him were the red laces on his boots. LaCroix studied his face. Goutee and moustach all recently trimmed, scent of expensive soap on his skin. A tired expresion on his face. "It seems that wherever you went when you left our little party, you didn't suffer for it... I can smell the hospitality of one of the finest hotels this city offers on you. But is seems to have... irritated you." "Oh, no... that was something else. It is true I did experience a very nice hotel one night, my irritation follows me from the states. I called home earlier and had a disturbing conversation with a friend. Nothing really bad, I just didn't like it." "I see." LaCroix said it as if he understood. Perhaps he was thinking of Nicholas when he said it. "And where did you go when you left us?" "I retrieved the deed for the Raven. I hope this finishes this particular episode because this thing with the Raven has distracted us all from the reason we are here. But what was your is your again." "I thank you. The others will be pleased as well." There was a brief pause. Zillah looked at LaCroix for a moment, as if in thought. "Make me into a vampire." Zillah said it plainly, as if he might have asked for a drink at a bar. "I beg your pardon?" "Make me into a vampire." "You believe that your accomplishment gives you leverage to ask this? You mean to barter the Raven for immortality?" "No. I offer nothing. I ask for it because you can grant it. I did what I did about the Raven because it seemed the right thing to do. I ask for nothing for it's return because it's not mine to put a price on. I ask to be made a vampire because it is one of the few thngs in the world that I cannot take or buy. It's possible to steal other things, to barter for them, to intimidate for them, to use computers to transfer titles or otherwise aquire. This, though, I have to ask. And I figure I probably won't get this chance again, and being timid will achieve nothing." LaCroix stood up, and walked around the desk. Zillah stood up and faced him. 'At least if he kills me for asking,' Zillah thought 'I can die standing up.' LaCroix watched him. "You are quite impertinent." "Yes. I can't help myself." Zillah smiled slightly. There was a movement too fast to track, as a hand gently moved behind Zillah's neck and pulled him to him. The force was irresistible. Might as well resist gravity. "But are you *sure* about what you want?" It was a whisper, slowly spoken. Zillah felt LaCroix's breath on his neck and shivered. ### DEVIL'S DIARY by Cousin Zillah Time: Late night Place: Toronto In which a cab ride provides a necessary respite from adventure and also to make record of what has gone on before. ------------------------------------------------------------ ~ 'It took me some time alone with LaCroix to explain my doings and what I had hoped to accomplish. If I had been less tired and less worried that first night back, I might have seen the errors I was making. Hindsight is usually miraculously clear.' ~ Zillah looked up from his writing to watch some of the scenery pass. Lights and people of a busy city... such a confection at night of colour and texture, when the blemishes of pollution and crime are less apparent. It was good to get out of the Raven... it was difficult to unwind and be on guard all the time. Zillah just hoped that nothing important happened in his absence. He glanced at his watch... almost time. He asked the cab driver to turn on the radio for him and then returned to his writing. ~ 'I pointed out to LaCroix that if he wanted to fight properly for ownership of the Raven, he should hire a lawyer. That's what I would have done in his position, but I suppose he's had a while to develope habits of dealing with people. Probably counter-productive ones, not that mine have been all that brilliant lately. But I had done what I could. I told LaCroix that I wanted to Raven to be a kind of Elysium. Some of the Cousins thought it should be his, the Ravenettes thought it should be their's in tradition of their departed Janette. I thought it should be neutral territory... where we could all meet and unwind. LaCroix would have the power to make the neutrality stick... the Ravenettes, even with Miklos, wouldn't.' 'Little late now. Such grand schemes, once again dust in the grave.' ~ He stopped again at the sound of a familiar voice... time for The NightCrawler's nightly lurk. Zillah saw the eyes of the driver glance up at him in the rear-view. Apparently, he wasn't as interested as Zillah was in the NightCrawler's speech. So it goes. Zillah took a few minutes to listen to LaCroix's opener. "Fire is an amazing thing, is it not my children? Try to touch it and your hand passes through, yet you are burned by it. Truly, it is a double edged sword that can heal or destroy, yet it has no mind of it's actions. It is just what it is. *We* must decided it's ends. Will it warm the house of the family through winter as the good father wishes? ...or will it burn it to the ground, as the arsonist watches? ..." 'Weird. I wonder where he'll go with that,' Zillah wondered. 'And I wonder if he taped this earlier or if he went back to CERK to do the broadcast.' Zillah looked down at the page of writing and grinned like a fool for a moment. 'It's said that the genius and the psychopath are most likely to chart their courses in writing. No use wondering which catagory I'm in.' He chuckled softly to himself and wrote a little more. ~ 'I pointed out to LaCroix that I had told _no_one_ where I was going and _no_one_ where I had been and what I had done when I got back. How did Jamie know? He seemed silent on that point... I have my suspicions, but there's only one way I'll know for sure. I also pointed out that the damage to the building I broke into had actually been slight. Wood putty would put the pane of glass back in, the rest was superficial... even I can afford to repair it.' 'The last words I said to him as I left were "Everything I said to you when we first met were absolutely true. I thought I was solving the problem... and I am still in awe of you and what you are. I understand your reasons for declining me my request and I hope that later, when times are less pressing, you'll reconsider. But I could never lie to you... I mean, really, I'm pretty sure you can hear my heartbeat. How *could* I lie when my pulse would give me away? Next time, I'll take more care with my actions." ' 'He didn't say anything at that... but I think he was satisfied. At least I won't have to worry about his killing me. And that leaves my mind free to look to other things.' ~ LaCroix continued with his monologue. Zillah had heard bits and pieces of it as he scribbled... it involved the legend of the phoenix and it's death by burning and resurrection. "Humanity can not follow the example of the Phoenix... but there is a lesson to be learned. We all pass through the fire, do we not.... at one time in our lives or another. The weak man is consumed and is heard of no more. Ah, but the strong, like the clever Phoenix, passes through and is stronger for it. The flames touch them and they are burned, but they continue on better for it." "That which does not kill me makes me stronger," Nietzsche once said. In this instant he was correct, for there is no brighter burning fire than that instinct to survive..." "Hey... this is the area you asked for. Do you have an address that you'd like to get dropped off at?" The cab had stopped, and the driver had turned around to look at Zillah. Zillah looked at the street and noted the address on the nearest building. It shouldn't be that far from here. He tucked his book and pen away in the deep recesses of his coat. "No, thanks... I'd like to get a look at some of the sights on the way. I'll walk from here." "Whatever you say." It was obvious that the cab driver thought this was a ridiculous idea, given the darkness and the time. I guess he wasn't used to people from the states coming to town to see Toronto by night. Zillah paid the man and stepped out of the car. From the open door, he could just hear the radio. "So, we await the return of our own Phoenix. This is the NightCrawler... and I have all of eternity for waiting." Hands in the pockets of his black trench coat, Zillah watched the cab pull away before walking up Yonge Street to search for his destination. ###