***Thursday, November 9, 1995*** DOWN AND OUT by Cousin Candice Time: A tad past midnight Place: The Raven Candice was on her way out the door of LaCroix's apartment when a loud stoped her and a small furry thing wrapped itself around her ankles. "Embris, not now, I cn't play with you, I have to go." The cat just stared at her. Realizing she'd left her purse, she went to the counter to grab it, nearly tripping over Embris. She checked the contents, license, lipstick, pen and passport, and stalked off to the Raven. After a hellish ride across town in a cab, Candice reached the club a little after midnight. She paid the cabbie (tip? what tip? *cackle*), slammed the door, and was greeted with a waiting-line that wound itself half way around the building. she thought to herself and wondered if her name would still be on the 'guest' list. "No way in *hell* am I waiting in this line." Candice took a quick look at the properly gothicly dressed girls and boys (men and women they were certainly not ..no clubbers ever were), and she adjusted her black leather vest, smoothed down her slightly rumpled palatzo pants, and headed directly to the front of the line. Putting on her best I-Belong-Here Attitude, Candice strode up to the bouncer. "Excuse me, is there a line for those on the guest list?" The bouncer looked up from his clipboard and stared down at her. He was a rather large man and it didn't look as if he was opposed to throwing her to the back of the line. When he didn't answer her, Candice looked nervously over to the two people at the front of the line -they didn't look amused -the rings through their eyebrows were raised in question at her. She looked away again and suddenly became quite impatient with the bouncer. They were never this slow in New York City. It was time for plan B. Candice leaned in close to the bouncer. "Listen, I'm what you call a "ravenette", and if you dont let me in, you just might find yourself without a job at the end of the night." The bouncer blanched. He had been told to get an assistant to pick the Raven/ettes out of the line (if any had the timidity to stand in line) and let them in. But he hadn't been able to find anyone last minute. He figured they'd just walk in -afterall, he'd been told they owned the joint. "I...Iii..I'm sorry Miss...go on in, I..oh hell..." The bouncer opened the door for Candice. "Don't *EVER* let it happen again, oh, and just so you know --everyone with eyebrow rings are Ravens. You should let them in -immediately-." Candice sauntered in past the bouncer who was frantically scanning the line for the other "Ravens." She chuckled to herself and went to the bar. It had been one hell of a day and responsibility was being thrown to the winds. "Bartender!," she shouted to the tall dark figure of a man with his back to her, "Can I get a MudSlide down here?" The bartender finished making a wine spritzer and walked down to Candi's end of the bar. "Miklos?! What are you doing tending bar?" "Old habits die hard," he chuckled "..and besides, it keeps Tara from attacking me, as well as everyone else! Now what can I get for you?" "A MudSlide --pretty simple, kinda like a chocolate shake, but with cream and Kaluha. Got it?" "I'm ..well we wont discuss my age ..I think I can handle it." "Thanks, Miki." Candice turned to the thumping crowd and tapped her fingers nervously on the bar. Would they notice that she was here? Would they throw her in the cellar? Not that she didn;t like dark places, but that cellar gave her the creeps. "Hey you ..here's your drink, on the house." Miklos winked at her and smiled. "You know, you've got balls walking in here like you did, just be careful, there are still a few Ravens that dont like the idea of Cousins being free to walk about here." Candice just gaped at him "How did you.." "His heart was beating a mile a minute! Kinda hard not to notice." Miklos rushed to another customer and left Candice, who was too embarrsed to speak. She found a nice (relatively) quiet spot to drown her sorrows and hostilities in a drink. Sinking into a booth, she sipped at her mudslide and watched the throng of people on the dance floor. The lights were flashing in brilliant colors, spinning around in the smokey haze. What a nightmare this week had been. Candice felt like she'd totally failed LaCroix. What kind of a Cousin was she? "Certainly not a leader..." she mumbled to her drink " I'm not even half as good a babysitter." Candice sighed miserably and downed her drink in one gulp. She waved over a waitress, told her to runa tab, and ordered another mudslide, double on the vodka. What could she do? Goind back to CERK was out of the question. No way could she face all the Cousins. She hadn't made one really good attack yet, (not including tonight's little fiasco at the door) and she was more than a little disappointed that she'd never been able to give the NatPack an ear-full last night. She sunk even lower into her seat and sipped. *** Candice kept staring at the crowd,.lookng for familiar faces, but she didn't see one --not even Risha's. That no-good, kidnapping, little Ravenette still had hers coming. Her drink arrived before she had time to formulate a plan of attack, and Candice nestled the glass into her palm. Depeche Mode blared out of the speakers just as Candice finished her second drink. She got up and joined the other dancers, mixing in with the anonymous crowd. Spinning and turning with other men and women on the dance floor (guess they let them in before the boys and girls ;), Candice was suddenly face to face with a rather handsome stranger. Moving around the dance floor, he followed her rather aggressively then grabbed her wrist, feigning a closeness he had no right to, pretending to dance. "We *need* to talk." The Stranger said, half whispering into her ear. Candice wasn't as alarmed as she should have been. It happened all the time at clubs -Goths were like that, mystery was a game they were good at. She smiled up at him (Brian wouldn't approve of the smile she gave the man -that was for *damn* sure) and yanked her arm from his grip. "Maybe we do, and maybe we don't." Candice twisted away from the guy and strolled over to the bar for an Amaretto sour. Drink in hand, Candice retuned to the table she had claimed for herself earlier that evening. She scanned the crowd again for the man that had approached her, but he had vanished. "No, I don't think you understand, you and I *need* to talk," a voice said harshly. Candice nearly jumped out of her seat. She hated it when people snuck up on her. After regaining a hold on her heartbeat, she started to speak. "Oh? And why is that? Is thre some sign on my forehead that says -Talk To Me-? Or am I just special?" The stranger came out from his hiding place and sat down in the booth across from Candice. Getting a better look at him, Candice decided he wasn't as good-lookng as she'd first thought (though he was cute). "There's no sign, but you definitely are special. Tell me Candice, do you believe in such a thing as living forever?" "What???" "I'm sorry, maybe I should have been clearer in my question, how much do you know about the man you were here with on the night of the 7th?" "Oh, you mean the night of Lillian's transition? That was just a list thing. She won't be a knightie forever...she's a Die-Hard through and through. But I didn't see you at the party, what are you?" Candice polished off the rest of her drink and set the cup carefully on the center of the table. "Oh, I...umm...well, I was hired to clean and serve..Need another drink?" He smiled at Candice and waved over the waitress "What'll it be?" "Umm...a rum and coke, please." Candice stared at the guy, trying to place his face with the people at the party that night, but she just couldn't do it. Maybe it was the alcohol. "Anything for you? "No, thanks." He turned his attention back to Candice. "So, how did you meet that guy you were with the other night?" "Which one? What night? I'm sorry I.." "The *transition*!, The tall guy with the white spikey hair! How did you meet him?" "Oh! Well, we met last year on a stage set, he wanted me to do some writing for a t.v. show. He called me up, I'm listed with the Writer's Guild, and we only met then." That seemed like a logical answer to Candice. How else was she supposed to answer a question like that to a complete stranger? He would think she was crazy if she told him about the War and the Factions. And vampires, who else believed in vampires? Candice didn't want to scare him off, company was one thing to keep her mind off her troubles with LaCroix and the Cousins. "So, are you dating him?" Candice almost spit out her drink in his face. Not that it was a funny thing, but it ws the most unfeasable thing she'd ever heard of! "Ahh,...no, Lucien and I have ...and understanding. That's his name, Lucien. He's more of a ..close relation. Almost like, ..an Uncle." "I know. So you're not dating him. Well, has he ever taken you out to dinner? Movies? Late night drinks?" The stranger leaned in closer to Candice, making her a little uncomfortable. Candice had to slow down the rate of her speach, else she get sloppy and slur her words."No, we've never gone out to eat together. I'm a veg and I think he thinks my eating habits are just as distastful as his are." It seemed to Candice that the guy snickered that last comment, but she couldn't tell anymore. Things were getting kinda fuzzy. "Is there anything else you wanna know about my friends or is this all some weird way to get to know me? Cause I...think I need to go home...now." Maybe he snarled, maybe he growled, maybe he just said something soothing, Candice couldn't tell. "..need ..home..cab...,please?" Candice remembered giving LaCroix's address to the cabbie and the guy from the club getting into the cab with her. What she didn't remember was getting into the apartment, changing into her p.j.'s and passing out on the floor. Sensing that she was awake, Embris padded softly over to her and nudged her hand until she scratched him behind the ears. "Cat, I think we've got some trouble." Embris just purred. ### KICKED! by Maureen Wynn Place: The Happy Souvlaki Deli "Christina! Oh, Christina..." "Whaddya want? I'm busy!" "We gotta di-, divest-, um, we gotta remove ya from office." "Huh?" "Well ," Maureen said, "You're not the Poobah Pro-Tem anymore. It's time for the tearing-of-the-epaulets." "Oh, OK. What do I do?" Chris said. "People, people..." All the Mercs continued partying (which they do so well, after all), oblivious to their soused leader. Maureen frowned, then gave a piercing whistle which cut through the noise. When they all turned toward her, she said, "It's time for Chris to be de-throned; everyone gather around." Once everyone had quieted somewhat, Maureen turned to Chris and said, "Um, repeat after me: 'I, Christina...'," "I, Christina..." "'Do hereby repent me of my sins...', oops, sorry, wrong ceremony." Maureen thought for a minute, weaving slightly, then her face brightened, and she dipped her fingers in her wine glass, then sprinkled Christina's head. "I now pronounce you un-Poobah-ed!" She turned to the assembled guests and raising her glass, said, "Ladies and gentlemen, I give you... Chaos! You may now party." ### THE CASE OF THE DISAPPEARING CORONER by Sharon Himmanen (with input from Jennie Hayes) Time: In the wee hours Place: The Toronto Morgue Natalie leaned away from the microscope and rubbed her eyes tiredly. She'd been at this for hours, and felt like she'd only made a little bit of progress. Making a face, she took another sip of coffee, possibly the last in Toronto (which made her think about Sharon and she made a mental note to pick up some Coke and Vivarin. The caffeine was really the issue for Sharon, rather than coffee itself.). Rising, she stretched her muscles and rubbed her neck, then paused as Grace poked her head into the lab. "Go home!" Grace ordered sternly. Nat smiled gently. "Can't," she said. "I still don't have all the answers I need." Grace moved all the way into the lab and looked at Natalie with no small amount of concern. Then she glanced at her watch. "By my reckoning, you've been at this for over 24 hours. You're exhausted. Go home!" Natalie picked up her lab notebook and waved at the microscope. "I will," she promised, though it was more to appease Grace than anything else. "I just want to run a few more of these samples." Sighing in exasperation, Grace glanced at the notes. "So, what have you found?" she asked. "Well," Natalie said, glancing down at her scrawled handwriting. "It's some kind of LSD derivative. That's hardly surprising, given the types of hallucinations they were having." "LSD?" Grace echoed quietly. "Who would do something like that?" Natalie shrugged, her mouth settling into a grim, hard line. "I have some idea of *who*, although I can't be sure, and I can't say right now," she added hastily at Grace's questioning look. "I need to figure out *why* and *how.*" "And when?" Grace asked. Natalie shook her head. "I've got that sort of narrowed down. Amy was hypnotized into thinking she was Janette on the 4th. As far as I can tell she wasn't affected. The worst of the symptoms showed up on the afternoon of the 7th, so it must have happened sometime between then." "But how?" Grace asked. "Something they ate?" Natalie frowned thoughtfully. "I was just starting to come up with ways to get the drug in, and that's a possibility. I doubt it's airborn. It's not that volatile. Food is a possibility, but I don't think so, given *who* was affected." "Meaning?" "Meaning," Natalie reasoned, "that Sharon was the *least* affected, and Valerie was one of the most affected. If it was something in the food, I'd have expected Sharon to be more affected since she tends to eat more, and she wasn't. So I'd have to rule that out." Natalie paused, staring thoughtfully into space for a moment, then she straightened abruptly. "Water," she said. "Water?" "Sharon hardly drinks any, except in coffee. But the others, "Natalie paused, excitedly, grabbing her pencil and scribbling on the paper. "The others drink it all the time. *Especially* Valerie and Jennie. *That's* got to be it." She looked around for a moment. "I'll give you a hand," Grace offered. Natalie paused. "No," she said. "You've been here longer than I have. Besides, if I'm right the tests won't take long. I promise I'll go home and get some sleep after that." "No way," Grace said emphatically, crossing her arms and giving Natalie an I'm-taking-no-prisoners look. "I'm not leaving until you leave." Natalie sighed with mock exasperation. "You're really such a pain," she admonished. Grace grinned. "But you love me anyway, right?" Natalie couldn't help but smile at that, then nodded. "OK, you win," she said, grabbing her purse and slipping off her lab coat. "I'm going home." Satisfied, Grace nodded, and the two women headed out together. ***** Natalie didn't mention to Grace that she'd needed to go home for a water sample from her apartment anyway, then had rushed back to the deserted morgue building. Dawn was only an hour or two away. She was about to prepare some sildes and new samples when she heard a door slam and the sound of feet shuffling outside the lab. Wondering if it might still be Grace, Natalie set the slides down and moved to the door, sticking her head out into the hallway, intending to admonish her assistant. Instead, she saw several tall men dressed in impeccable black suits heading down the hallway in her direction. Recongizing them as the men who'd approached her earlier, the same types most of her friends had described to her, she ducked quickly back into the lab, twisting the lock. It would buy her only a few minutes, but she had to at least try to hide her notes and samples. Frantically she looked around the lab for a place to conceal the stuff. A scratching noise sounded at the door, and Natalie realized they were picking the lock. She dropped the notebook into the waste paper basket next to her desk, hoping they wouldn't think to look there, and that Grace spotted it before it got taken out with the garbage, and grabbed the phone. hitting 911. Before it could connect, the door burst open and three men moved quickly inside. The phone was grabbed from her hand and replaced back in its cradle. Two of them grabbed her arms and shoved her back against the wall. Before she could draw breath to scream, one of them pressed close to her, leaning so close to her face she could feel his warm breath on her cheek. Something cold and sharp pressed against her throat. "Don't scream," he whispered, and the pressure of the knife increased slightly on her throat in warning. Natalie swallowed and nodded, noting that one of them was obviously searching the lab, starting with her desk. He paused briefly to glance over at them. "Get her out of here before the guard makes another round." With that, Natalie was whisked out of the lab, out to the street, and into a waiting van. ### THE KIDNAPPING by Torrey Harris ed. by SL Campbell Time: Early Place: Toronto It was time...the plans had been all worked out and everyone knew what was to happen. The group watched from the shadows as Partly said her goodbyes to Tracy. "Ok. Sherri, get ready..when she comes by, grab her and get her to the van before she starts to scream", Torrey said, never taking her eyes off of her prey. < Thump> < Bang> < Slam>...It was done.... one Perkulator blindfolded, gagged, and hog-tied in the van in nothing flat. It went about the same for the rest of them...well except for the darn Ravenette and the Cousin. Johanna, our Ravenette victim, could still be heard complaning about her dress...even though we had gagged her...and then gagged her again. Cousin Cherri was another story...Torrey was still suffering from some very sore places on her anatomy where she had received the brunt of the Cousin's counter-attack. Pulling back up to the church the Vaqueros quickly unloaded their new guests and hearded them all into the old Choir Room. Linda and Crystal quickly tied them all to their respective chairs and removed their blindfolds. " Now...you all just sit tight, we will be back in a minute." Linda said to the glaring group of faction members. Stepping out of the room, Crystal and Linda closed the door and faced Torrey. "OK, what now?" they both asked. "Now...." Torrey said, looking at Vachon. "It is time for our guests to meet Vachon and to give us some answers." "I still don't know if this is a good idea." Vachon said looking around for a way out. "It will work just fine," Torrey said, "as long as you try to look a little mean and don't do that 'Deer in the headlights' thing." "Me?" Vachon asked, "Do What?" Blink. Torrey ignored him. Torrey opened the door and let Sherri and the others go inside. She stops Cindy at the door. "Remember, you promised if you are going to lose it in here, you have got to leave before anyone sees you. This will never work with you rolling on the floor laughing!" "Yes..OK..I will", Cindy said, already suppressing a giggle. Torrey walked in, followed by Vachon. "Well, let me introduce you to the group, Vachon. " Torrey said, never looking away from the very surprised looking women tied to chairs. "This is Cousin Cherri, and this is Partly, our member of the Tracy faction, Hmmm...this is Johanna..our lucky Ravenette, and this is Elaine, our Natpacker. Oh, and last, but not least, this is MaryAnn, our esteemed Knightie. Now that you have all been properly introduced, they are all yours, Vachon!", Torrey said, pulling up a box. Vachon looked at the group of women tied up in the choir room and wondered again what he had let himself get talked into. \\Ok, just look mean, get the information, and then we can let them go.// He stood there and looked at them quietly. \\I can't believe I'm doing this...// "I want to know which one of your factions is responsible for destroying my church", Vachon said in his best 'I mean business' Voice. No response. Nothing. Not a word. From behind the victims, Crystal and Sherri waved their hands at Vachon and indicated their mouths. Vachon looked from her to the group in the chairs and realised that he had not taken the gags off. \\Augh, this will *never* work//, Vachon thought, as he reached over and pulled the gags off. Immediately the room was filled with shouts, curses, and threats from all of the victims. "Silence!!" Vachon thundered, and was pleasantly surprised to see that his order had been followed. "I am sure that you all heard my question?" Vachon said, looking down on them. "I want an answer." "I don't know what you're talking about!" Partly said, looking very confused, and completely non-perky. "What would I want with this old Church!" Johanna chimed in, still looking miffed about her dress. "It's not stylish *at all*!" The others just sat there, glaring at him. Torrey motioned Vachon over to the corner. "Vachon...its' not going to work...they just don't buy the tough guy act", Torrey said, shaking her head. "I know what will work!" Sherri chimed in. "Have you noticed how they keep trying to sneek a peek at him when he's not looking?" Torrey, Sherri, the Vaqueros, and Vachon all turn to look at the group, and catch them all trying to sneak a peek at Vachon's derriere when his back was turned. Blink. Blink. "Geeezzz, why didn't I think of that before?" Torrey said, hitting herself on the forehead. "Ok, Vachon...how good are you at flirting?" Blink. "Flirting?" Vachon said, with that 'look'. "I *can* flirt." "I just bet you can", Sherri said drily. "Leave this to me", Vachon said with a slow smile. Stepping over to Partly, Vachon spoke in a low, intimate tone. "I know this has to be very uncomfortable for you." Before he could say anything else, he was interrupted. "She's uncomfortable!" shouted Maryann, "What about me?" "Oh, be quiet, you big baby!" moaned Cherri, "He wasn't talking to you." "Why don't you both be quiet", shouted Johanna. "I can't believe I am stuck in a room with you guys," Elaine said, rolling her eyes. At this point, the Vaqueros and Vachon stepped back and just listened. It was obvious by now that all Vachon had to do was take the gags off, and they would take care of the rest. "YOU can't believe you are stuck here!" shouted Maryann, "It's your fault we're all here. You Natpackers and your 'little pranks'." "Oh...yes, like we did it all!" snapped Elaine. "What about her?", motioning with her chin at Cherri. "Yeah, yeah, drag me into it", Cherri snarled, "you just can't take the rap by yourself." "Well, you guys deserve each other!" snapped Johanna. "I didn't do a thing, and now just look at me", she said, motioning to the ropes holding her to the chair. "Yeah! Well, at least you weren't kidnapped by someone who is supposed to be on your side!", MaryAnn said, glaring at Torrey. Torrey stepped forward, and motioned for silence. "OK, I think I have learned enough. Partly, Johanna, and Maryann...I think we need to get you all back home." "Hey, what about us!!", shouted Cherri and Elaine. "Oh, you'll be going back home also...when we're done with you." Torrey's smile sent shivers down everyone's spine, even Vachon. Torrey went over and untied Partly, Johanna, and Maryann. She motioned them out of the Choir Room. While one of the other Vaqueros replaced the gags on Cherri and Elaine, Torrey led the released kidnappees outside, and turned to talk to her released prisoners. "Listen guys, I am sorry for having to bring you here, but we just had to find out what was going on. If I see one more cow disaster in this church, I will go nuts", Torrey said, trying to sound reasonable. "You are supposed to be on my side in this war! Or did you forget that?" Maryann said hotly. "No...I didn't forget. You have to understand, Maryann. I knew it had to be someone inside of our alliance. You guys are the only ones who know where I live. My place is so far out in the middle of nowhere nobody else would have been able to find it." "OK...I guess I can see where you're coming from with that...but kidnapping us?" Maryann asked. "Well, it worked didn't it?", Torrey said with raised eyebrows. "Listen guys...I am sorry for anything I did to you, and I am going to have Linda take you all directly back to your respective homes. If you want she can even stop and get some lunch for you. Ok?" "Yes, I guess so", Johanna said, reluctantly. "Sure, fine with me." Partly answered, becoming perky again. "I am ready to go back to the loft", Maryann said. "Listen, Maryann, tell Nick that I will stop by a little later and talk to him.....I kind of need to apologize for the stake in the heart thing...", Torrey said. Linda got the group back into Sherri's van and headed back toward their homes. Now it was time to deal with the other two. Torrey and Sherri went back into the Choir Room, where Crystal was watching over the captives, and opened the closet. Pulling out their implements of torture they set to work. *************** "Hmmm...not bad", Sherri said, looking over their work. "I rather like it myself!", Torrey said, leaning back with a smile on her face. Vachon had been hiding his head for the last five minutes trying not to laugh to death. Cindy was rolling helplessly on the floor, attacked by a severe case of the giggles. Crystal was sitting on the floor, attempting to maintain some sort of control. It wasn't easy. "Well, where do we drop them off?", Sherri asked. "We don't." Torrey said with a smile. "We let them walk." Torrey, Sherri, and the Vaqueros stood at the door to the Church and watched the two walk away. A faint "Moooo" could be heard every other step. "You know..." Sherri said. "I always knew I would have a use for those old cow costumes." "Yes..." Torrey said, wiping tears of laughter from her eyes. "Where did you find a cow costume with udders?" Torrey asked, starting to giggle again. "Well, you know, you live in cow country, and the darned things have to be uh, anatomically correct.... or you get boo'd udderly off the stage... I liked your idea of attaching the Mooers they sent us, that was great." Sherri said, starting to lose control of her laughter again. "Yeah", Torrey said, sitting down so she could hold her sides."I wish them luck getting out of them...you put enough super glue on the zippers." "Me? Hey, Vachon was the one with the tube of glue!" At this point, all of the Vaqueros are reduced to fits of laughter on the steps of the church. ### JAMIE FINDS HER TRUE CALLING, OR TRIES TO... by Jamie Melody Randall Time: Early early morning Jamie sat and watched her bodyguard sleep atop a tarpaulin. It didn't look very comfortable -- then again, Christina looked too tired to care. Considering that she'd stepped into this mess because she'd needed *protection*, it had certainly been an exciting day... Tired as she was, her words from earlier that night echoed in her ears, resembling a flashback: "Oh, and thanks for letting me sit in on this, all of you. It's enough to make me want to be a Merc!" And the response: "Hey, anytime you want to join..." Hunh. Something soft and furry twined itself around her ankles, and Jamie picked Elfy up and plopped her in her lap, stroked her fuzzy little head and thought hard. //Y'know,// she thought idly, //it's a great thing to stick your neck out for something you believe in... but it's an even better thing if you can get PAID for doing it...// She consigned the thought to the back of her mind, reached out and shook Christina awake -- or at least partially. "C'mon," she said,"let's get you back to the Raven." "Don't wanna," Christina mumbled incoherently. "Bed," Jamie coaxed persuasively. "A real bed, with a nice soft mattress, and pillows..." "Pillows," the Merc repeated, almost reverently, as Jamie led her stumbling from the building. ==========Not too much later====================== Having driven (slowly and carefully, so as not to attract notice) back to the Raven and deposited her 'bodyguard' (hard to think of her that way, after driving the getaway car! -- but sleeping or not, Chris would awaken and come to her rescue at the faintest sign of trouble; Jamie and the cats were all wired) safely in bed with the cats, both her beloved Elfy and guest-cat Ralph The Sidney Ringer, Jamie made herself a cup of coffee courtesy of the Secret Raven Stash and thought, hard. Came to a decision, made a few phone calls... cursed a little, then hung up and went off to meet with her associate... "Why HERE?" were the first words out of Jamie's mouth. The one she'd come to meet with chuckled wickedly. "I wanted to see how serious you were about this," she said. "You must be, to come ALL the way up here..." Jamie glanced out of the windows -- lovely view from the top of the CN Tower, but a looooooong way down. "Get to the point," she growled. "So let's see," replied her companion, not allowing herself to be rushed, "you started out as a Cousin, tried to make a deal with the NatPack, sought sanctuary with the Ravenettes and have now declared Merc. Hmmmm." "I didn't try to make a deal with the NatPack," Jamie disputed. "Merely offered assistance. As if everyone didn't already know that I have NatPack sympathies! Not to mention my embarrassing tendencies toward Nick&NatPackdom. And you're forgetting Honorary FoD by Virtue of Having Achieved a State of Sublime Brunch..." "I haven't forgotten," sighed her companion. "So now, on top of all of that, you want to be a Merc..." "Only if I can do it properly. I have to prove myself to the Guild-- more importantly, I have to prove myself to *me*." Jamie's eyebrows raised. "Not that the um, situation you've outlined should cause me much trouble. At least, I don't think so. But before we go any further, we have something to discuss." "Let me guess. Payment?" "How'd you know?" Jamie grinned. "There will have to be chocolate, of course, so that I can bribe... uhm, I mean, persuade the Guild that I'm worthy. Lane doesn't like chocolate, but the fact that I didn't bang up his car oughta count for something." "Just chocolate? That's awfully reasonable," commented the other. "Sure you're really Merc material?" "Hey, it's my first job, y'know," Jamie reminded her, "and there's the matter of personal sympathies... and besides, I haven't finished naming my terms yet." The other woman waited, suspicion growing within her; and the worst of her fears were confirmed when Jamie, grinning even more widely, tossed something at her... It was white. Rectangular. Made of paper. And contained many many many little crystals of NaCl. "Now put down the salt," Jamie directed, "and let's talk..." ### LOOSE THREADS by Kimberley Low Time: 9am EST Place: The Raven, Nat's apartment, all over the city "One more time. Jennie, Leslie, Betsy, Jill, and Valerie are in the hospital recovering from LSD delusions. Selma's catsitting. Sharon, GT, and Kim just unhoodooed me because I've spent the past couple of days believing I was Janette." "Sounds about right," said Kim. Actually it came out closer to "Zoundsboutright." She and GT were not looking good and they were feeling worse. "Then where's Amparo!" That would be Amy again. "Good question." Sharon glared at GT and Kim. She'd been playing babysitter all night and wasn't happy. "Hey, don't look at us! You were the sober one!" Kim leaned over and stage whispered, "GT, you're not helping." And a little louder, " 'Kay, you guys phone around, I'll leave you the van and take a cab back to the apartment to see if she's there. Besides, I really want to change these shoes." "Why? You were hardly in them last night." "Cool! Sounds like the most normal thing I did all evening!" She flashed Sharon a grin as she walked off in search of a phone. ************************************************************************ *Ah, normalacy, sweet normalacy,* Kim thought as she walked in the apartment door. Open door. That didn't quite register as something to be wary of. There were benefits to arriving late to a war. So she'd missed the original plotting and the tree frogs; she'd also missed the Jeparody challenge and the fish sandwiches. She'd come to think of Nat's apartment as a sanctuary of sanity. At least when it was empty. "Maria Amparo Bertram! Y'here?" The tv was on. That was a good sign at least. Wierd show, though. She found her boots amid the chaos they'd inflicted before going to the Raven. *No wonder Sharon's mad! She must have put that plastic stuff over the tv for protection. Now where is Amparo? The coach looks slept on, maybe she decided the bed would be more comfortable.* And there she was. All curled up in the bed looking as sweet and peaceful as can be. A grin spread across Kim's face. *Who says the Cousins are the only ones that can mess with a person's mind.* She put on her most irate posture and shook Amparo awake. "Great move, Amparo. Just leave the front door open, so ELVIS can come strolling in." Amparo sat bolt upright. "Whowhatwhenwherehow? ELVIS?!!" Kim started laughing and received the most patently evil look from Amparo. "I'm sorry. I just figured that if you were as bad off as the rest of us are/were/are recovering from you'd give a good reaction. So where did you go last night? And why was the door open?" "I haven't a clue. I don't even remember getting into bed. Where is everybody?" "Well, Jennie, Jill, Leslie, Betsy, and Valerie are in the hospital, they got caught by Nick and Vachon after giving a noncommand performance of _Phantom of the Opera_ at the Raven. Selma's still with Sidney and the rest of them are at the Raven organizing your search party. I want coffee. Do you want coffee?" "We ran out. There's tea though." The Natpack had come to realize since Kim had shown up that lightning quick subject changes were an integral part of her personality so Amparo wasn't too worried. Kim walked off to the kitchen. "POD! WHAT IS THIS!?" Amparo walked in looking smug and a little different. "My my my. The 'Pack's been frogged. Won't Uncle be pleased to hear of this." "WHAT?" "I wonder how they managed to get all those boxes into the kitchen. Whoever did this was good!" "Amparo. Maria! What is the matter with you!" "What are you talking about? And why am I here? I should be with Nick! You're the ones who started this war!" "Amparo! Snap out of it!" "Snap out of what? And why are there all these boxes of frozen frogs' legs in the kitchen?" "I give up. You are going right to the Raven. Sharon's getting good at taking care of the insane. I'll give you to her. Meanwhile, where did you take those fish sandwiches someone sent. I want to get these frogs' legs out of here before they start to dethaw too badly." It took five trips to get all those boxes into Jennie's car. (Someone who's going into the hospital for an indetermined length of time should not leave her keys in plain view.) As it was there was barely enough room to fit Kim and Amparo into the front seats. (Jen! Get a bigger car!) Amparo was sent off into the Raven and the loving (exasperated?) care of Sharon, Amy, and GT. Kim continued onto the shelter to deliver her goodwill gift. "Hi! Uh, a couple of days ago my friends received an incorrect order of fish sandwiches and they donated them to you. Well, it happened again and I was wondering if you could use any more?" "You have more fish sandwiches? That's amazing! We really appreciated the last donation. It was really generous." The woman looked so happy it hurt to let her down. "Well, actually, it isn't exactly fish sandwiches. We were actually given ten large boxes of frozen frogs' legs." "Oh. Well, we might be able to take one box. There isn't really that much a demand for frozen frogs' legs, even in a shelter." Just getting rid of one box was good enough for Kim. For a start at least. In the meantime she still needed to get ahold of some coffee. *YES! A Timothy's. A little more expensive then Second Cup but definitely worth it. Da da da da dada da dada da da dada! Don't worry! Da da da da da dada! Be happy! Da dada da da! Don't worry, be happy now! Where did that come from! I haven't heard that song in ages!* "Hi! I'd like coffee. Any type of coffee you have." "I guess you haven't heard. There isn't any coffee in all of Toronto. Something about a health scare." "No coffee? Not even any of that Mochachinno slush you make?" "Sorry, that's seasonal." "Seasonal. Right. So you have the hot, mulled cider and cranberry juices right?" "Well, we have the cider but there in't any cranberry juice to be found either." "Cider's good. Cider's very good." Puzzled but happy (Hot drink GOOD! Hot drink HOT!) Kim went off in search of some poor shelter to take the frogs' legs. ### TOMORROW MAY NEVER COME by Selma McCrory Time: Morning Place: Nat's apartment Selma was humming happily as she unlocked the door to Nat's apartment. She'd come back with Sidney, along with two other cats who seemed to have attatched themselves to her. She let Sidney out of his carrier and the other two followed. One of them looked pretty cute in a red hat. The TV was on. She semi-glanced at it, moving her stuff back to where she had been sleeping over a week before. That was, before everyone seemed to be allergic and she had been elected to catsit. That done, she went to look at what was airing on the TV. Evidently, someone had left a tape on. And someone didn't want the TV being bashed in. Wise choice. She didn't recognize the series, other than the bunch obviously were having some kind of problem and had very British accents. 70's British SF, she decided. Nobody else was in, otherwise she would have asked what they were seeing. So she, being a science fiction fan in general, sat down and watched. The tag to the episode had come on. The credits weren't familiar, so she waited to see what was on next. And then she knew. Despite having never seen the 1970's version of the Tomorrow People, she recognised the credit sequence from a video-only MPEG that she'd found. And then she recognised the episode that had come on. "A Man for Emily," she muttered. The *worst* episode of the series, ever, shunned so completely that even new fans knew about it. She watched as Peter Davison, in silly silver wig, ran around in his underwear. She went to turn it off, or at least change the channel. She found out that it was the VCR, but since it was enclosed too, she couldn't do it. She had a sneaky suspicion of who was responsible. Wendy. The only person who knew she was a big TP fan. And that would mean that neither the TV nor the VCR would have a remote. She sighed, and went to go out - only to find that she was somehow locked in. Same with the windows. No phone, either. But no one had blocked the phone outlet. She took her computer and her phone cord out of her bag, connected to Nat's account, then to her own, and then started to send out S.O.S's. Wendy had underestimated her. She had food, she had books, she had her walkman and tapes, and at last she could see that version of the series. And the list was still spewing 10 copies of everything. Of course, so far that had meant only Wendy's story and Jez's fragments, but maybe it would get worse. She hoped so. And someone, she hoped, would come to her rescue soon. ### COFFEE CLASH by War Correspondent Celeste Hotaling-Lyons Time: Morning Place: The CERK office that Cousine Celeste took over, that she hasn't given up yet because it has a really nice Mac in it. ___________________________________________________ (To the tune of "Rawhide") "Perkin', perkin', perkin'; Keep them beans a-perkin', You won't catch me smirkin', Caffeine! For a cup, I'm yearnin', Never set it burnin'! Keep that coffee churnin'! Caffeine! Serve it up! Pour it out! In a cup! Drink and shout! Serve it up! Pour it out! In a cup! Drink and shout! Yeah-- Keep that coffee pourin'-- Here's my cup, put more in! Caffeine!" Cousine Celeste popped the audiotape playing "Songs of FK War V" in mid-lyric with a savage punch to the eject button, replacing it with another tape. As one of the last people in Toronto with a bag of fresh-ground Hazelnut coffee, the song "Caffeine!" usually gave her great joy, but today she was in no mood. She pushed "go" and the new tape started to play. <"Thank God Nick already left for work. Scottie, is it just me, but did the attacks used to have a bit more class than this? A little more style? "That they did; although I seem to remember something about a ton of tuna in New York."> It rankled. <"Thank God Nick already left for work. Scottie, is it just me, but did the attacks used to have a bit more class than this? A little more style? "That they did; although I seem to remember something about a ton of tuna in New York."> Foolish Knighties, chatting in front of the empty tanks still standing in Nick's elevator. *Of course* they'd been remote-wired for sound! Heck, if she'd been given a mere 24-hours more in her window of opportunity, they'd have been remote-wired for video, too. She'd enjoyed their screams of outrage amid the splash-gurgle of the Ribena and cows' blood, but had been mightily affronted at the conversation that had come immediately after. <"Thank God Nick already left for work. Scottie, is it just me, but did the attacks used to have a bit more class than this? A little more style? "That they did; although I seem to remember something about a ton of tuna in New York."> The Cousine's fingers tapped aimlessly on the desk, brain cells working furiously, but fruitlessly. How the hell does one top 1,000 gallons of sticky red fluid cascading from an elevator? She felt like Stanley Kubrick. Suddenly an idea began to form in her mind. When you need sneaky, vicious, and downright nutsy, you call a pro in those fields of endeavour. No, not the Lurkers. Ex-Cousin Jamie; Raven-not, Honorary FoD. . . and now Jamie was trying to become a Merc. Besides, *who* was a classier broad than her friend and fellow New-Yawker; who was better suited to teach a Knightie a lesson in style, but The Illustrated (ex-)Cousin, Jamie? No one, that's who. . . . "Jamela, sweetie." "It's your friend, Celeste. Cousine Celeste." "How did you know I'd be here. You're out to get me, aren't you. There's a SWAT team of Cousins on wires hangin' off the building, they're gonna come crashing through my window when you give them the 'hi' sign that I'm here, right?" "Moi? Never. I happen to agree with you about The Raven, I hate it when Uncle plays bar-keep, I don't think it's good for him physically or mentally. And I like it here at CERK, much better. I got a Mac I don't have to share, a phone I can use for long-distance, and a Braun coffee-maker. Oh, and I've got the phone on 'scramble'--this place is full of eager young college guys who just graduated with sound-engineering degrees. They're *interns*; it's great, they're working for the station for free and they do *exactly* what you tell them to do! Just like they're *slaves* or something!" "Sounds choice. OK, what's the deal? Why're you callin'?" "I don't have time to pull a caper on someone, I'm too busy mailing out `Songs of FK War V' to everyone, but I just can't let a bit of slander from a certain Knightie pass. I wanna hire you." "You *do*?" Jamie's usually casual demeanor actually seemed to perk up at the offer. "Cool." "Let's meet." "There's a coffee-bar I go to, though it's just selling dessert, tea and fruit juices now that there's no coffee." "Sounds perfect." The Cousine got the address from the would-be Merc, threw on her coat, and took off; heavy bag on shoulder, thermal carafe of coffee in hand. ******************************************************* The two conspirators huddled at a table in a dark corner of the nearly-empty coffee-bar, commiserating and working out terms, snarfing down a couple of slices of chocolate fudge cake all the while. "The tapes of 'The Songs of FK War V' have a computer chip in 'em," said the Cousine. "If you play 'Can You Feel The Love, To Knight' out of sequence more than fifty times, it melts the tape into a puddle of goop that ruins your tape deck. Now, no one but Knightie or a Nick/Natpacker would play that song over and over, out of sequence, especially since it's nestled on the tape between two really great LaCroix songs." Jamie nodded sagely. "But you're saying that that just isn't enough vengence to be visited on this one Knightie, right?" Celeste stabbed at her slice of cake angrily. "She insulted me. No soft-toy-toting, puppy-piling-the-vampire, beknighted Knightie calls *me* classless and gets away with it. These people have no style and would not recognize style if it came up and bit 'em on the bum. Just 'cos she didn't recognize the brilliant, dramatic re-creation of the elevator-full-of-blood scene from Kubrick's "The Shining", well that's not my fault, is it?" "It was totally evil. She's nuts." The easy-going would-be Merc closed her eyes, enjoying the deep, dark flavor of the double-fudge chocolate. "*You're* gonna have to come up with a great trick--like I said, I just don't have time to kick my imagination into gear," sighed the Cousine, sipping a cup of the Sacred Brown Liquid, hazelnut coffee, which she'd brought with her. Jamie sipped at her cinnamon schnapps. "Oh, I don't think imagination is gonna be a problem for me. I can money-back guarantee you that you will *love* whatever I come up with." The Cousine didn't doubt it, and shivered. She almost felt sorry for the victim. Almost, but not quite. "OK. How much?" "Ten pounds of the *finest* chocolate." "Easy-peasy. I can send you the chocolate. Someone who blithely hands out gift certificates to See's chocolate in the $1,000 amount can certainly get 10 lbs. of the best chocolate." "*AND* something else. Something special." This got Celeste's attention. "Uh, OK, I'll bite. What?" "I want a photo of Uncle. A photo of Uncle. . . . *NAKED*." The word 'naked' said with relish, Jamie grinned her most insane grin. Celeste put down her fork, contemplating the mad woman before her. "Now let me get this straight. *Here*," and she held out her left hand, "here we have the task of trashing a Knightie--on a scale of one-to-ten, let's give it a five. No, we're talking a Knightie here. Give it a three. Now, *HERE*," and out came the Cousine's right hand, "here we have the task of snapping a photo of Lucien LaCroix, in the buff. Scale of one-to-ten, it's, oh, about *A GAZILLION TRILLION BAZILLION MILLION*!" The Cousine stood, eyes bugging out of her head. "Are you *bloody* *insane*, Jamie?" Jamie waved a negligent fork at the Cousine. "Oh, siddown. I got it all figured out. You know how to do it." Her foot came out and gave a little kick to the bag the Cousine invariably carried with her everywhere. Her Blake's 7 teleport bracelet was snuggled deep within, inside a secret pocket, and Jamie knew it. "And nobody can complain. They let you get away with teleporting at the beginning of the war and nobody raised a peep." "Oh, I think that was just because nobody wanted to read yet *another* in a series of plane and/or train stories about How This Fan Got To Toronto," said Celeste. "But I swore I wouldn't resort to teleporting. I mean, I just can't call the Liberator everytime I need a favour. I mean, a *favor*." She was damned if she was gonna slip into B7 Brit-speak so easily. "Yeah, but you swore that before you knew you'd have to take a pic of Lu, butt-naked," argued the would-be Merc persuasively. "It's *buck*-naked, why the heck does everybody and his brother keep getting that wrong?" but it was obvious her mind was not really on her vocabulary list. "No. No way. No, if I had the time to bamboozle LC, I'd have to time to get the Knightie myself." Jamie took a long slurp of her yummy cinnamon schnapps and considered her friend over the edge of her glass. "What's a matter? Chicken?" Now, when someone you don't know calls you `chicken', you flip him the bird. When an enemy calls you `chicken', you wonder what he's trying to get you to do, and then you do the exact opposite (then you have Pizza Hut deliver 25 pizzas-with-everything to his door.) But when a friend calls you `chicken'. . . well, there's nothing for it but to prove them *wrong*. The Cousine sat back in her chair heavily, all the fight gone out of her. "This is just like Dorothy being told to get the witch's broom, innit? Geez, I had no idea meeting LaCroix was gonna be along these lines. I thought I'd just get introduced to him by some Cousin or other, at a party or something. I thought he'd say, `how do you do, my dear, I've heard wonderful things about your work', not `come here, you horrible little mortal, I'm gonna rip your throat out!'" Jamie just smiled a Chesire cat smile, and had another bite of the velvety chocolate cake. ********************************* ### WORKER'S COMPENSATION by Jamie Melody Randall Time: Daytime As Christina slept peacefully, Jamie called home... "Hi, Mom. What's new? Did I get any mail?" She listened. "Really? Okay... open it." And listened some more. "State Insurance Fund sent me a check for HOW much? Well, it's about time... the claim's been going for nearly three years, after all... Do me a favor, huh? Put my account number on the back and deposit it. It's a New York check; it oughta clear by the 15th..." And Jamie hung up the phone, grinning from ear to ear. //This oughta be useful,// she thought... ### FUN WITH KITTENS by Chanda Keith Place: The Raven "Maybe she'll actually eat this one." I thought optimistically as I started down the steps to the Raven's wine cellar. I had been trying for four days since I got my adorible and *extremely* picky new kitten to find a cat food that she wouldn't turn up her nose at after one taste. "Janey!" I called before I remembered who I was dealing with. Of course she wasn't going to come running just because some mere mortal called. The kitten expected me to come to her. You know, if I didn't know better, I would think that my kitten really was Janette in disguise instead of just named after her. I started across the room towards the kitten, who was lounging on one of the new velvet dresses that I had picked up for the Die-Hards' party. I was halfway across the room when I stepped on something soft. "What in the world? Oh, great! A dead mouse with its head bit off! Have we been letting Screed in here? Wait a minute! What's that? I said as I saw a flash of white behind a rack of wine bottles. A minute later a black and white kitten came strolling out with a mouse in his teeth and deposited it at Janey's paws. Janey just looked bored and turned up her nose at the sight of the mouse. "What do you know! So you have a little friend! Now how did he get in here?" I said as I walked over and looked at the strange new kitten. "So, what's your name, kitty-cat? Nichola, by any chance? Well, Nicky-poo, you're going to have to come up with something better than dead mice if you want to impress Janette here. I can't even get her to eat five dollar gourmet cat food. Oh great! You aren't going to eat this one, either, are you? Well, it looks like it's back to the store for me. Have fun guys, and try not to destroy the wine cellar." ************** "I can't believe that I just paid twenty dollars for fresh salmon! If she doesn't eat this then I don't know what I'll do!" I said as I started down the steps to the wine cellar. I was on the next to last step when my foot landed on something round and slid out from under me. The next thing I knew, I was lying on the floor of the cellar with the kittens in my face. "Well, at least she'll come if she thinks I'm in trouble." I said as I checked myself over and saw that I hadn't done any permanant damage. Now to find what out what I had stepped on. "What in the world?" I thought as I checked the step and spotted a pearl. "A pearl? How did a pearl get down here? Hey Nicky-poo, what do you have there?" "Oh, no!" I cried when I saw the rest of the pearl necklace in his mouth and quickly snatched it along with the loose pearl before either of the kittens could swallow them. "Now where did he get his paws on that? I hope that it isn't one of the other Ravenettes'" "At least you come up with better presents than Nicky-poo the vampire." I told the black and white kitten as I gathered both of the cats up and carried them over to Janey's velvet bed. "I still don't know how you got in here but I think I'll let you stay. Now eat your salmon like good kittens and don't leave anymore suprises on the steps. I'll be back after I find a hot tub someplace to soak my aching back." I tucked the necklace in a pocket as I headed up the stairs. I hoped that it didn't belong to one of the Ravenettes because if it did I would be in big trouble. Okay, so Nicky-poo wasn't really my cat but he sure was acting like he belonged to me and I would get the blame for the necklace if its owner found out. "Oh, well. Maybe it belongs to a cousin or one of those crazy Nat-packers." I thought. That was when a terrible idea hit me. What if it belonged to Mistress Janette? I decided that I better pospone that bath and go find someone to help me. ### A PRESENT FROM THE KITTENS by Chanda Keith Time: The Raven "This is terrible!" I thought as I hurried back down the steps to the wine cellar. "What am I going to do? If this really is Janette's necklace and she sees what the kittens did to it then..... What am I going to do? Oh, no! Not again!" "Oh, no! Oh, no! Oh, no!" I cried as I ran over to Janey, who was playing with what looked like a diamond necklace. "I'm doomed! I'm breakfast if she finds out! Hey! Wait a minute! Wher did Nicky-poo get himself off to?" Just then the black and white kitten came strolling in and deposited what looked like a pair of gold buttons at Janey's paws. She purred and wrapped her tail around him in a sign of approval. "Oh, no! He did it again!" I cried as I snatched the gold things up. "Janey, stop purring at him! He's about to get me killed and..... Wait a minute! These are cufflinks! Why would Mistress Janette have a pair of cufflinks? Nicky-poo, where did you get this stuff? Come show me. Blast! Nicky-poo, stop purring at Janette and come show me where you got this stuff! Come show me and I'll give you some nice salmon!" A few minutes later I was knelling down by a wine rack with Nicky-poo twining himself about my ankles and Janey perched on my shoulder so that she wouldn't get her nice clean paws filthy. "I can't believe this!" I said as I pulled out a box from between the racks and looked inside. "Some silly little fledgling must have left this stuff here! Matchbooks forty years old from thirty states. You know, I might have a use for those. While I'm thinking, I better have this jewelry checked to see if it's real. Maybe I could...." "Stay here, guys." I said as I hurried up the steps with the box under my arm. "I'll be back as soon as I get these checked. Don't get into any trouble!" ### PEEPING COUSINS (Part 3) by Shirl Cline Place: Wherever the rest of the Cousins are... Cousin Shirl thought with a frown. She'd come to Toronto to help in the war, and hardly gotten to do anything. Her one plan had gone from merely challenging, to falling flat on it's face. She'd gone to all that trouble; buying equipment and enlisting the help of Cousin Tokaara and the Merc, only to mess up. She'd carefully sorted the photos into three stacks; the ones that didn't come out, the ones that had, but weren't that great, and the few really good shots they'd gotten, then placed them in an envelope for them to take to Millie, the Merc. By the time she'd realized she'd given her the wrong stack, it had been too late. she thought with a sigh. The tape of LaCroix and Sandra might have distracted them for awhile, but as time passed with no word, she wondered if they'd ever even seen them. She sighed again. Shirl thought. ### EVERYTHING GOES BETTER WITH WHIP CREAM by Maddog Time: Early evening Place: Toronto Maddog polished off her third diet coke of the hour. She was bored. Bored, bored, bored and then bored some more. There was tons of work to be done but the unseasonably sunny day had left her with no desire to do any of it. All right, she never had a desire to do any of it but normally she concentrated on the "paycheck" aspect of things and did it anyway. Not today, today she was bored. Rastro, her fellow Lurker, partner in crime and cheesecake eater supreme, hadn't answered any of her e-mail so there was nobody to play with. Standing up, she walked to the coke machine and got another of those delicious beverages. What to do, what to do, she thought. Then an idea hit her, splat. Picking herself up off the ground, she dug the tesserect out of her backpack (picking off a rather old piece of gum) and teleported out of her office. Dianne la Mercenaire sat on a comfortable chair reading a book entitled "Destroying Europe in Seven Days and Getting Paid for It". It was the best seller on the merc book list for the month of October. The hot runner up was called, "People That Have Been Killed, And the Mercs Who Don't Feel Guilty About It". Her reverie was broken by the sound of the tesserect depositing its traveler in front of her. "What?" She greeted the woman before her. She recognized the woman from the last FKFIC war. It was one of those Lurker people. "I'm bored," Maddog pouted, taking another sip her diet coke. "You want me to kill you and end your misery?" Dianne suggested with a smile. "Nah, I have an idea!" "Callooo-callay! How frightening. What's in it for me?" "This whole bag of M&Ms!" "I'll take it as a retainer. My expenses are extra you know." "Yeah, here's the plan," Maddog leaned forward and quickly explained her most righteous idea to the Merc. "Sounds doable, not to mention fun. Why don't you do it yourself?" "Cuz I'm a Lurker and I only watch. Besides, I am not supposed to get involved, rules of the contract and all." "I'll do it. You have to set up that Vetter woman though." "Sure, just remember, I get 50% of the proceeds from picture sales," Maddog nodded. Both women then spit in their palms and then shook hands. Dianne decided to charge the Lurker hazard pay since her spit was probably toxic from all that diet coke she drank. ************************************************** "Excuse me, are you Detective Vetter?" Maddog asked the blonde woman sitting at the desk. "Yes, can I help you?" Maddog brought her hand out from behind her back. She was holding a diet coke can with Groucho glasses, nose and mustache taped to it. There was a pair of eyes also stuck to the can. "You have a problem?" Tracy asked. "Many people think so, but that's another story. Look into the diet coke's eyes," Maddog thrust the can into the detective's face. "You are getting sleepy, very sleepy. Close your eyes." Tracy did as the Lurker instructed, her mind totally controlled by the diet coke mojo. Maddog grinned, pleased that it had worked so well. She sat down in a chair beside the desk. Fortunately nobody had noticed that Detective Vetter had fallen into a trance. "Okay, Tracy, now listen carefully. You are in the power of the great diet coke mojo and have to do exactly as I tell you. Now, repeat after me. I am a moron. I am dumber than a squirrel." "I am a moron. I am dumber than a squirrel," Tracy muttered, drooling slightly onto her desk. "I hear voices and do as they command. I have broccoli in my socks." Detective Vetter repeated the words exactly, convincing the Lurker that she was mentally helpless. "Okay, Tracy, I have two commands for you. The first is long and complicated so pay attention," Maddog ordered as she went into a long detailed plan whereby Tracy was convince Nick that he was to go on a special undercover assignment for her Father, Commissioner Vetter. She was to tell him that her father suspected a deep police cover-up and needed somebody from another division that he could trust. There had been a shocking series of male transvestite attacks in the city and Detective Knight needed to go out and gather evidence. He was to meet his contact, one Detective Dianne, as the supplied address. He was to do what she told him. "You got that?" The Lurker asked, wiggling the diet coke can in front of the Detectives Face, the mustache wiggled in an amusing fashion. "I understand." "Good, now here's the second command. You are to eat six frozen Twinkies every morning for the next three months. You should wash them down with, uh, three diet cokes. Every evening before you leave work you should consume a Moon Pie with an entire can of whipped cream on top of it," There, Maddog thought, she wouldn't be a skinny blonde for long on that diet. Not to mention the reaction of all that caffeine and sugar. "When I pop the top of the Diet Coke can you are to awaken. You will remember nothing of our conversation but go about your business until you meet Nick tonight. Then you are to put the plan into motion. Got it?" "Got it." Maddog stood up and popped the diet coke. Tracy awoke with a start and stared blankly around. She spotted Maddog and asked if there was something she needed. "Yeah, could you tell me where the restrooms are?" Detective Vetter pointed and the Lurker made her escape from the station. **** "Your father wants me to do what?" Nick asked. "Go undercover. Nick, I'm sure my father wouldn't ask if it wasn't important," Tracy explained as she fished around in the grocery bag she had with her. "He knows I trust you. He must be afraid of some leak in the department," She pulled out a can of whip cream and a moon pie from the bag. "All right, where's the address?" Nick decided he'd at least go check it out. It sounded strange to him. He didn't remember any attacks on transvestites being mentioned anywhere. "Here," Tracy handed him a piece of paper. She then began to shoot the entire can of whip cream onto the moon pie. Piling the cream higher and higher until it was leaning very precariously. "Thanks," Nick said staring at the food in front of his new partner. Even Schanke had never eaten anything like this and Schanke had done some mighty strange eating in the years they'd been together. "Uh, you're going to eat that?" "Yeah, I've got a craving," Tracy explained as she took a huge bite of the whip cream. Knowing that asking a woman about her cravings was a dangerous area to go, Nick merely nodded. "I'll go check this out. You finish your snack." "Op-kaay," his partner mouthed around the moon pie. ### MORE THAN JUST A PRETTY FACE by Dianne la Mercenaire Time: Early evening Place: A random Toronto shopping mall Nick pulled the Caddie over at the address Tracy had given him, only to realize that it was a shopping mall. Leaving his car in the red zone (but surreptitiously flipping on the mysterious vampire detective "no-ticket" cloaking field), he walked towards the entrance. As he neared the door, he saw a tall redhead dressed in jeans and a CERK t-shirt with an X-Files bag slung over one shoulder. She was absent-mindedly snacking on M&Ms while she chatted with a blonde woman wearing too much makeup and holding a clipboard who was similarly attired. Nick smiled vaguely and kept walking, not wanting "free movie passes" to anything at the moment, but the quiet, authoritative voice behind him stopped him cold. "Detective Knight?" He turned around to find himself addressed by the red-head, who did not wait for an answer: "I am Detective Dianne. I believe Commisioner Vetter assigned you to my investigation?" "Um...yes," Nick agreed. "Sorry, I was just looking for someone who looked more... uh... well 'professional'." He smiled around the foot in his mouth. Dianne gave him a cold look. "If I looked 'professional' I'd hardly be 'undercover,' now would I, Detective?" "Oh, no. Of course not," Nick agreed, his gaze shifting to the other woman. She looked vaguely familiar, but it was hard to tell under the large sunglasses, distractingly-pink lipstick, and what looked, quite frankly, like *really bad* hair extensions. She was giving him a decidedly unprofessional--one even might say "appraising"--look. "And you are...?" "This is Cath...uh...Cathy," Dianne interrupted hastily taking the clipboard from the women in question. "She's my...um... 'assistant,' " she added, as she took Nick by the arm and turned him so that they were both facing the street. "Don't mind her." "Oh...o.k...." "Now _this_," Dianne began, gesturing at the street before them with the pencil, "Is where the first attack.... Ooops!" Her vague, yet vigorous movements had apparently caused her to drop the pencil. Nick, being the chivalrous kind of guy he was, immediately bent down to retrieve it for her. "Why thank you, Detective," she smiled in what he thought was an odd sort of way as he handed it back. Unfortunately, it again slipped from her grasp. "Oh! How careless of me," she intoned in a surprisingly insincere fashion as he again bent over to retrieve the lost pencil. "And thank you again." Nick made sure she had it this time, but she had apparently lost her train of thought. "Now, as I was saying...." her voice drifted off. "You said something about the first attack...," Nick prompted. "Oh, yes...right!" Dianne agreed. "Well, as I was saying, the first attack happened...oh for heaven's sake!" she sighed, as the pencil fell again. As Nick bent to retrieve it a third time, he started to grouse to himself. I mean, 'helpful' is one thing, but this was ridiculous! Straightening up and turning around, he was surprised to see Dianne and "Cathy" muttering in apparently heated negotiations <"No, it's too much, Catherine!" "*Pleeeeeeze*!" "No, you got your three gratuitous closeups--one bar of gold bullion, if you please! A pleasure doing business with you."> "Cathy" handed over a small package and, sh*t-eating grin now firmly in place, waved goodbye and disappeared from the scene. "What's going on?" Nick demanded. "Oh nothing that concerns you, Detective," Dianne assured him in her most professional manner taking him by one arm and steering him towards the door. "Where's your assistant going?" "What? Oh Cather...y?" Dianne paused. "She's running...um... errands for me," she concluded dragging him closer to the entrance. But to her surprise Nick dug his heels in. "But what about the 'first attack'?" "Oh, right!" She conceeded. Turning briefly to face the street again she gestured vaguely (without the pencil), "It happened out there in the city somewhere. Now come along, Detective, we're wasting time!" Nick, completely confused by this point, merely complied. ************************************ Nick stared around uncomfortably as Dianne pulled him into Darkangel's Dangerous Liaisons Boutique(tm).* "Are you sure this is what Commissioner Vetter wants?" Nick asked timidly. Dianne rounded on him with a fierce look in her eye, "What Commissioner Vetter wants is a Toronto in which _all_ citizens are safe! In which anyone who wants to wear a mini skirt and garters can do so proudly! In which _anyone_--without regard to race, color, creed, _or_ gender--can wander about in the dark in garish, tacky outfits without fear of injury or bad lighting!" Nick stared at her for a moment, half-expecting patrotic music and a large Canadian flag to appear behind her. Shaking off the thought, he looked chagrined, "Oh, sure!" "That is why he assigned *me* this investigation and you as my assistant." "Right. Sure. O.k." Nick blushed, not wanting to be thought medieval in his outlook. In fact, to prove what a nice, PC kinda guy he was, he marched into the store under his own steam, head held high... ...and collapsed to the floor gasping and choking. Dianne hauled him to his feet with an exasperated look. "If you can't stand the perfume, then don't breathe it already!" she hissed in his ear. "There's no need to make a scene!" ********************************************* Having steered him around and around the racks of frilly, silky, perfumed bits of fabric, and having loaded up with ...um..."items"--some of which Nick wasn't even sure he _wanted_ to know the purpose behind--they were finally headed towards the dressing rooms. With a sigh of relief, Nick ducked towards the nearest shelter. "No, not that one," Dianne muttered, pulling at Nick's arm once again. "This one's better," she assured him, shoving him into the cubicle, thrusting the pile of garments into his arms, and closing the door firmly. "Start trying them on," she ordered, her voice becoming slightly muffled. "Where are you going?" Nick called after her, but there was no answer. Sighing, he started to study the flimsy pieces of satin and lace in his hands. He, of course, had had a great deal of experience with women's lingere over the centuries-- Janette alone had given him quite the education. But in general it had been from the other side...his training was in _removing_ various garments, not putting them on... well, _most_ of it was... Nick eyed the lacy, ribbon-strewn Merry Widow on the top of the pile with a shudder and remembered... *Darkangel's Dangerous Liaisons Boutique(tm) appears courtesy of Darkangel herself...check out the last war :-) ### BELLE OF THE BALL by Dianne la Mercenaire *flashback by Diane Echelbarger* Time: Early evening Place: Darkangel's Dangerous Liaisons Boutique(tm) Nick sighed and ran a hand through his hair. It had all seemed so simple. His master's old friend, the Comte du Girard, had decided to throw an all-vampire fancy-dress ball on All-Hallow's Eve. Nick, in a moment of recklessness induced by too much vodka-laced cow blood, had declared that he could come up with a costume so good, even LaCroix would not be able to recognize him. His master had promptly decried the boast, and offered a wager: if Nicholas could keep LaCroix from recognizing him until the unmasking at midnight, he, LaCroix, would allow the younger vampire to leave, go where he wished, and not even *attempt* to locate him for ten years. If, on the other hand, LaCroix successfully identified his protege, Nicholas would be honor bound to spend those same ten years at his master's side, living his life according to LaCroix's wishes. Nick had agreed immediately, but now... now he was dreadfully afraid that he would lose, and LaCroix would spend the next decade dragging him back into the hell he was trying so desperately to escape. What was he to do? It was at this point in his silent soliloque that Janette entered the room. "Mon cher," she purred, "what is the matter? Why are you not dressed? Do you not know that the festivities begin within the hour?" Nick turned to her in despair. "It's no good, Janette," he wailed. "I'll never come up with a costume that will let me fool LaCroix for three minutes, let alone three hours!" Janette sighed. "Really, Nicholah, is it so important? What is a decade in our long lives?" Nick just stared back at her, with the helpless-little-boy look he knew she couldn't resist. After a moment, she gave in. "Would you like my assistance?" she offered "I warn you, you may not like what I will suggest." "Yes! Thank you, Janette," he said, eager to dump his problem on someone else, as usual. "What did you have in mind?" Half an hour later, Nicholas du Brabant wobbled across Janette's dressing room in a spring-steel corset, a pair of two-foot-wide panniers, and six-inch, jewelled heels. "How do you-- ouch!-- walk in these things?" he gasped, as his ankles wobbled dangerously, threatening to catapult him through the window into the street below. He hadn't intended to gasp, really, but Janette had laced him so tightly, he had trouble drawing enough breath to talk. "Practice," she responded crisply. "Now come over here, Nicholah. I need to do your makeup before we lace you into your gown." ----- LaCroix prowled the Comte's salon, holding his growing frustration in check with difficulty. *Where was Nicholas?* The younger vampire was somewhere in the room, he could tell that much. Unfortunately, there were too many other vampires of Nicholas' approximate age in attendance for his master to be able to locate him more precisely-- and despite scrutinizing every costumed figure in attendance several times, he could *not* identify his wayward protege. As the hands of the clock neared midnight, Lucien passed, once again, by the young vampiress who had been flirting with him all night. A charming child, dressed as Marie Antoinette in full court costume, she fluttered her fan at him from beneath her high, powdered wig and smiled coyly from behind her jewelled mask. He was looking forward to finding out who she was, when the unmasking took place shortly. Perhaps she would wish to take an evening flight with him, afterward.... As the clock struck the quarter hour, the master vampire ripped his attention away from the luscious young beauty-- whose voluminous skirts completely hid the couch where she had semi-reclined for the whole of the evening, giving occasional delightful glimpses of dainty ankles and feet clad in high-heeled shoes with ruby buckles-- and continued on his search for his wayward son. Not the pirate-- too tall. Not the mandarin-- the face was entirely the wrong shape. Not--- When the clock struck midnight, and the masquerade ended, LaCroix's scream of rage echoed through the streets, sending mortals to hide under their beds in terror. For the beautiful young woman who had so caught his eye was revealed, when her mask was removed, as none other than-- Nicholas de Brabant. [end flashback] ************************************* Nick shook off the memory, trying to concentrate on the task at hand. As he began to strip he heard a soft _thud_ from the adjoining cubicle. He almost asked if the person was all right, then realized that he wasn't sure he really wanted to draw attention to himself. Just his luck, he'd have to go rushing to the rescue with pantyhose twisted around his ankles. Listening carefully, he could hear the mortal heartbeat of the woman in the next cubicle and decided everything was fine. As he removed his pants, he heard a sharp click and a split-second of bright light temporarily blinded him. The snarling face with the glowing eyes staring back at him from the mirror gave him a start. He shook his head, trying to clear the vamp out--this _always_ happened when he was startled. It was so..well...it was _embarrassing_! He sighed and wondered again where Detective Dianne had gotten to. ********************* It had taken him nearly five full minutes to fasten the snaps on the black lace teddy with the hot pink bows (*Whose* idea was it to put the snaps down _there_?!?) and the matching merry widow he'd put on top was cutting off his circulation...and he hadn't even laced it up yet! Dianne was nowhere in sight and one of the lights in the next dressing room was apparently defective, because it just kept clicking and flashing every few moments. It was making him jumpy. He tried to lean over to fasten the seamed, fishnet stockings to the garters, when he realized that he was stuck. He wasn't sure exactly what had gone awry, but he was pretty sure he should be able to move better than this. "Oh for heaven's sake!" he was startled yet again to hear an exasperated voice from almost right beside him, "Hang on." Before he could locate the voice or make any protest, Dianne had barged into the room, unhooking the tangled straps. Nick was blushing a very pale pink from his head to the tips of his chivalrous toes (encased neatly, if quite _tightly_, in the four-inch, bright-pink, heavily-sequined, spike-heeled pumps Dianne had thoughtfully brought along in his size). "Now we just pump up that air-support bra *real* well...," Nick instinctively tried to cover himself as Dianne continued to poke and prod his ensemble into shape, shifting the falsies and tightening laces until he could hardly breathe. Handing him a long black wig and a pair of giant hoop earrings, she pulled out her makeup kit and took a _deep_ breath.... ******************************** Fifteen minutes later, two figures stepped out into the night... (well, _one_ stepped...the other kinda, well, "wobbled"...). After a moment's heated conversation, the tall one in jeans headed for the Caddie. The one desperately clutching a sheer, feather-trimmed dressing gown close for warmth, wobbled slowly off down the street. ### LARGE TRACTS OF LAND by Maddog Time: Early evening Place: The Raging Hormone Nick glanced at the name of the bar Detective Dianne had given him. The Raging Hormone, what a name for a bar, he thought to himself as he resisted the urge to adjust his newly inflated chest. It seemed, so, so, so big to him. Sighing, he tottered into the bar not even noticing that Detective Dianne had taken the Caddie and driven off. "What'll you have?" the bartender, a rugged, broad shouldered man who answered to the name Alice, asked his newest customer. It had taken him a moment to ask because, even though he'd worked at the Raging Hormone for ten strange years, he'd never seen anybody look more like a total idiot. The outfit the guy wore was okay but he'd forgotten to shave and frankly, arm pit hair waving in the wind was not going to win the guy any dates. Not to mention the fact that, while big breasts, no matter how fake, were always in style, the ones the dude had on could pass for life preservers. "Uh, a glass of red wine," Nick mumbled as he looked around the dimly lit bar. It was populated by some of either the biggest women he'd ever seen in his life or by transvestites. Looks like I'm in the right place, he thought, now if I can only get some clues in the next five minutes and get out of here, everything will be all right. "Here you go," the bartender put the glass of wine down on a pink, breast shaped coaster. "Thanks, would you mind taking a look at the this picture," Nick pulled out the picture Detective Dianne had given him of one of the transvestites that had been attacked. "You ever seen this guy before?" Alice looked at the picture and then took another good look at the man who was holding it up. The picture he recognized, it was of Patrick Swayze from the movie, "To Wong Foo, Thanks for Everything, Julie Newmar." Alice had liked the movie though he preferred "Priscilla, Queen of the Desert." He now recognized the bozo in front of him, too. Had to be a cop, he decided. A cop that didn't own a razor. Alice wondered if he was a vice cop and decided to play along. "Sure, he comes in here all the time, a regular." Jackpot, Nick thought, this isn't going to take long at all. "Did you know that he was attacked last week?" "No, really?" Alice exclaimed, placing a hand over his heart. "Javier, Tootie, come over here, quick.. Poor, dear Patrick has been attacked!" Two people got up from the a table near the bar. One was a small man dressed very nicely in a tailored, blue dress, the other was taller and dressed in black jeans and a shirt. Nick recognized him instantly, it was Vachon. He didn't have time to wonder what Vachon was doing in this particular bar before the two men were standing right next to him. Vachon looked at the man who was talking to Alice. He had to be one of the silliest looking transvestites that he'd ever seen. Who'd picked out those clothes, and those fake boobs were just, just, well, there just weren't any words to describe them. And the guy looked familiar, really familiar, not to mention the fact that he was a vampire. Suddenly, Vachon's eyes bugged out, it was Nick. Stifling a laugh, he took the picture that Alice was handing to him. It was Patrick Swayze in "To Wong Foo, Thanks for Everything, Julie Newmar." He caught a gleam in Alice's eyes as he handed the picture to Tootie. "Attacked? Patrick, when?" "Last week," Knight explained, "He was hurt rather badly. I'm a good friend of his." "Of Patrick's? Really," Vachon nodded, "This must be really difficult for you, then," He put a hand on Nick's shoulder and squeezed it. "You poor little thing." Tootie and Alice exchanged a glance and then chorused, "Its so sad for you!" "Oh, poor Patrick, he was just in here last week, sniff," Tootie snuffled. "Yes, I remember," Vachon agreed and took a seat right next to Nick's, scooting the chair as close as he could to the other man's. "Do you remember if he left with anybody?" the detective asked, starting to feel very uncomfortably surrounded. "Hmm, let me think," Alice scrunched his eyes up. "You poor dear, you must be worried sick," Vachon said consoling and began to stroke the hair on the back of Nick's head. He felt his fellow vampire stiffen instantly. Heh, heh, this is fun, he laughed to himself. "What's your name, sweetheart?" Nick was saved from replying by Alice, "I remember now. He left with some fellow I've never seen before, a little guy, Latin looking." "The one with that hat with fruit on it," Tootie agreed. Alice shook his head vehemently. "You wouldn't happen to know his name would you," Nick said, trying to arch away from Vachon's stroking hands. "Ummm, no," Alice replied. "Me either, but you know," Vachon leaned closer to Nick, "I think he hangs out at a bar called The Raven." "Really?" Knight managed to squeak out before standing up abruptly. "I think I'll go check it out. Thanks for all your help." He stumbled towards the door as fast as his four-inch, bright-pink, heavily-sequined, spike-heeled pumps would take him. "Good luck, sweetie," Alice called out after him. "Give our best to Patrick!" Tootie added. "I love a man with large tracts of land on his chest!" Vachon added loudly. The three men looked at each other until they were sure that Nick had left the area and then they collapsed in laughter. Nick stepped outside, nearly tripping over the curb. He was so relieved that Vachon hadn't recognized him that he didn't realize what was missing for several seconds. Glancing around, he didn't see the Caddie anywhere. Fear shot through him, his car had been stolen and he desperately needed to pick his underwear from his butt. ### PAYMENT IN FULL by Maddog Time: Early evening Place: Toronto Nick heard the roar of a familiar engine. The Caddie pulled up in front of him. In it sat, Detective Dianne sipping on cocoa and a pastry. Crumbs were all over the front seat. Normally he would have been furious at the abuse of his car but he was too relieved to do anything but get into the car. "Where have you been!" he yelled at the undercover detective. "Had to get some photos developed," Dianne explained, holding up a six-inch thick pack of photos. Sensing Nick's growing anger, she added, "It was work related! Did you get any leads?" "Yes." "Really?" "Yes, really," Nick snapped. "Do you know where The Raven is?" "I know everything," Dianne retorted, smiling at the dirty look Nick shot her. "Uh, your breasts are slipping down." She informed him and then drove off towards the Raven in silence. Dianne entered the bar ahead of Nick, he was trying to hide behind her with no success. He'd managed to get a shirt and pants over the outfit that he had worn to The Raging Hormone. But he'd been unable to get the falsies off and Dianne had told him that it didn't show, really. Dianne had refused his suggestion to stay with the Caddie, saying that she had business in the bar and needed to do it immediately. Halfway down the stairs, Nick spotted LaCroix. Rubbing his forehead in aggravation, he decided just to get it over with. This was police business, he had every right to ask these questions. Marching over to his maker, he held the photo up. "Do you recognize this man?" "And good evening to you, Nicholas," LaCroix replied, then he did a double take at his favorite child. He seemed to be wearing eye shadow and lip stick. He also seemed to have developed breasts. "Do you recognize this man," Nick repeated, in no mood to be polite, especially when he'd noticed the area that LaCroix's eyes had begun to stare at. LaCroix took the picture and glanced at it. It was Patrick Swayze in 'To Wong Foo, Thanks for Everything, Julie Newmar.' "Yes," "Have you seen him in here with another man, possibly wearing a hat with fruit on it?" "Hold that thought, Nicholas," LaCroix stated, as he turned away and walked over to Detective Dianne who was ordering a drink at the bar. "Hello, Dianne," LaCroix purred, "I take it you're involved in this little escapade?" Given the Mercenary's uncanny access to information about his past, LaCroix thought the safest thing was to play it cool. After all, there had been plenty of even *more* embarrassing moments in his past than any she had found out about...*yet*... "I do what I'm paid to. I'm a mercenary, after all," Dianne smiled, accepting the truce. "Would you be interested in buying some pictures?" Dianne held up a few of the choicest pics of Nick getting changed. "Interesting," the vampire responded, nodding his head. "I'll definitely take a complete set, however, I'm still very interested in knowing what you're doing with Nicholas. I would be very... upset, if you were involved in anything that would hurt him." "Oh, I would never do anything to hurt Nick," Dianne stated sincerely, mentally adding, 'not unless I was paid to', to the sentence. "Good, we understand each other then. How much for one, no, two complete sets?" ************************************************** Nick watched nervously as Detective Dianne and LaCroix conversed. He wondered how they knew each other. Nothing about this case was making any sense and he still needed to pick his underwear out from his butt. "Hey, Nick, you know that's a really great eye shadow for you. Really brings out your eyes!" Tracey Vetter skipped down the steps over the Raven over towards her partner. All the sugar in her blood stream was making speak very quickly. "Thanks Tracey, that means so much coming from you," Nick retorted sarcastically. "But you can get out of it now. My father just called, the case has been solved! Isn't that great! I think it's great!" The detective babbled. At least she thought it had been her father that had called. The image of a diet coke can with eyes kept intruding upon her thoughts. "Wonderful," her partner sighed, "Dianne, its been... wonderful working with you. Do you need a ride?" Nick called out. "What?" Dianne looked up from her negotiations with LaCroix, dollar signs, gold bullion and M&Ms were all dancing in her head. She was going to make a *fortune* off this deal. "Do you need a ride?" "No, no, thanks, this is going to take a while. Been really wonderful working with you!" ************************************************* Nick and Tracey left The Raven and got into the Caddie and started driving through the mostly deserted streets of Toronto. "Hey, Nick," Tracey asked as she eyed his chest. "Do you have a breast fixation or something? That's an awfully large set of gazangas you're sporting there?" Nick wondered if was considered bad police etiquette to push your partner from a moving car. ************************************************** Maddog took another sip of her beer at the back of The Raven. It had been a good day. She'd make a fortune off her share of the photos of Nick in that outfit and she'd started that Vetter woman on road to fat thighs. All in a good day's work for your average Lurker. ### FLASH OF THE TITANS by War Correspondent Celeste Hotaling-Lyons Time: Early evening Place: Wherever LC is hanging out at the moment, his apartments at CERK, at The Raven, at a really, really nice hotel to escape his followers--I don't care where. But it's plush, it's opulent, it's expensive, and it's got one hell of a nice bathroom. Un-life was good for Lucien LaCroix. Nothing really bad had happened to him for some time, well, at least for several days. These crazed war-celebrants who had somehow wrangled their tedious little ways into his life and the lives of those he held near and dear--and *not* so near and dear--seemed intent upon attacking one another at the moment. That is, when they weren't embarrassing dear Nicholas. Ha, ha! The sight of Nicholas, semi-dressed as a common harlot! Oh, my. . . to be played back over and over again in one's perfect memory. He popped another blood clot into his mouth ("Blood Clots: The Official Vampire Party Snack. Crunchy on the outside, with a soft, liquid center" (TM)) then went into his bathroom for a long soak. LaCroix hummed to himself, readying his bath. The cast-iron tub was a huge one. He found a jar of his favorite bath salts and dumped a hands'-full into the steaming water. There, all was as he preferred it--plush white Turkish towels, French-milled soaps, the water almost-but-not-quite scalding. And privacy. Blissful privacy and a chance to unwind from the ghastly events that had been occuring with horrifying regularity since the beginning of this obscene little war. LaCroix draped his black silk wrapper on the back of a plump, over-stuffed brocade chair and tentatively dipped a toe in the tub; then, finding the temperature perfect, dropped his leg into the steamy warmth. This was his one, true indulgence--aside from the bloodlust, of course. His eyes grew glassy as he began to slip into a flashback from before the day of his death, the one about the Roman bath house and the vestal virgins. . . . . . . when suddenly he became aware of a heartbeat. A human heartbeat. And it sounded in the room he now inhabited; yes, even poised as he was, naked, with one foot in his tub. He turned his head-- And beheld a most extraordinary sight. An odd, hooded figure stood before him, enswathed in several layers of black coats and cloaks. Head-to-toe black scarves further hid the shape of the mortal's body, a black scarf covered the bottom of the face. Black, wrap-around sunglasses covered the eyes. And, in the black-gloved hands, horror of horrors, a small camera was held. *FLASH* "*Gaaaaaah!*" cried out the master vampire, blinded by the light. He fell back into the tub, sending great gouts of scented water washing over the sides and on to the polished marble walls and floor. "Mumble, mumble," he could hear the bulky figure murmering through the heavy face-scarf as he cast about, taking on water. "Mumble, mumble, mumble!" Still blinded, the master vampire grasped the sides of the tub and launched himself, vampire-speed, at the place where the figure stood. With a roar, he clutched at--*nothing*. The human, if it had been human, was gone. He could hear no heartbeat anywhere in the vicinity. ********************************* A bulky, black-enswathed figure formed on the teleport pad of the good ship Liberator. "Gaaaah!" the creature pulled the scarf from its face and breathed deep. "I nearly suffocated!" The wrap-around glasses came off, to reveal the cheerful face of Cousine Celeste. "Did you get what you wanted?" asked Vila, amused. He'd never really believed her story of vampires, and had assumed she'd pulled this stunt for reasons she would not share with him. She held up the camera. "Yep! And believe me, it was all I could do to keep from getting greedy. I needed a single picture, and a single picture is what I took. I gotta return this Atomic Flash camera back to Die Hard Lana Soward." She pushed back her hood revealing a cheap, tacky blonde wig, which she pulled off. It was the wig Ravenette Catherine Siemann had worn that time she and the Ravenette had gone to a Halloween party as Edina Monsoon and Patsy Stone, from AbFab. Catherine was going to toss the tacky wig, but the Cousine could see further uses for it. "And what was *that* horrible thing in aid of, if I might ask," said the Delta thief, refering to the wig. "Oh, this little thing? Just little moi, planting a seed." ********************************* LaCroix sat in his tub, pushing the feelings of paranoia that threatened back into the well from which they'd sprung. Hands steepled, elbows on the edges of the tub, he considered the facts as his perfect vampire memory presented them. Black-wrapped figure, wrap-around glasses. *FLASH* "*Gaaaaaah!*" "Mumble, mumble. Mumble, mumble, mumble!" //Oops? What was that? Play it again.// Black-wrapped figure, wrap-around glasses. *FLASH* "*Gaaaaaah!*" "Mumble, mumble. Mumble, mumble, mumble!" //Yeeees. That was definitely a whisp of blonde hair peeking from the edge of the hood.// *FLASH* "*Gaaaaaah!*" "Mumble, mumble. Mumble, mumble, mumble!" //And those words. Slow them down, pay attention now.// "*Gaaaaaah!*" "Mumble, boss. But I always mumble, mumble!" The master vampire shifted irritably in his tub. //Try again. Slower, now.// _*"So-reee, boooossssss. Buuuut I alwaaaaays dooooo whaaaat I thiiiiink iiiis riiiiiight. . . .!"*_ Oh, he'd heard that one before. LaCroix smiled. He sank back comfortably into the still-warm water. "" he said in Latin to no one in particular. It was a lesson so old, he'd learned it before he'd died, before he'd been a General, before he'd even joined the armies of Rome. //"Sorry, boss. But I always do what I think is right!"// The one who'd betrayed him and gone over to the Raven/ettes had been there tonight. He did not know how she'd done it, but if anyone could do it, it was she. He wondered what her next move would be. He *knew* what his next move would be, when next he saw her. ********************************* Cousine Celeste, otherwise known as She Who Will Not Be Trifled With, stripped off the last of the heavy black coats with which she'd covered herself, dropping them to the floor. She grinned cheekily at Vila, but he just shook his head sadly. "So this was all to set up a friend to get in trouble, was it? Tch, tch, tch; and you seem such a *nice* girl, too," he sighed. "Oh, not *just* to set up a friend. I got back at some other person who insulted me, too. And anyway, you didn't hear Jamie. She so casually sent me into the lion's jaws. She thought it was quite a hoot-and-a-half! I paid her for a trifling task with a fairly gargantuan one, and it was Jamie's very first Merk job, too. You'd think she'd have cut me a deal, not raised the ante like that." "Yes, but you agreed. . . ." "Oh, Vila! I agreed, I agreed--ha!--she just knew how to push my buttons, that's all. There's a lesson I learned from Blake's 7, Vila 'airlock fodder' Restal. *Nobody*, but nobody can screw you over half as well as a good, true friend can screw you over." Vila said nothing. There was nothing he could say, really. He, of all people, knew how true it was. ********************************* Jamie smiled. Her lap-top computer on the table in front of her, she finished tapping out a message to Catherine Boone on her E-mail. "Thought you might like to know that the reason there was a blood-soaked Milk-Bone chained to your neck is so that when/if Perry caught up to you, he could go crunch! through the chain with those vampire doggie jaws and scamper happily away with his Scooby Snack (no permanent damage, y'know). And while I'm at it... would you like to hire me to avenge the attack? ;-) ---------------cheers!--------------- Jamie M.R. * - The Illustrated Cousin; Initiate, Mercenaries Guild " She posted the message to Knightie Headquarters. Smiling, she took a slug of her favorite drink, cranberry juice, from a pure-pak she'd had smuggled across the Canadian border. No truer word was spoken than this, she considered to herself: "All's fair in love. . . and *war*." ### COUS... UHHH, JAMIE GETS A JOB by Jamie Melody Randall Time: Early evening Place: Toronto Knightie Catherine departed the mall floating about a foot above the ground (such was the effect of the three gratuitous closeups she'd obtained, and well worth the price!) utterly oblivious to the world around her... which was a terribly unsafe thing for her to be doing, in the middle of a war... As she shortly discovered. Something whizzed past her ear, and she whirled around, startled -- and found herself facing a woman she'd never met, but who (from the Forkni T- shirt and the demented grin she was wearing) appeared to be in the War... The woman muttered something under her breath, did something to the ridiculous-looking plastic gizmo in her hand, raised it again and fired; Catherine cringed reflexively, there being no time to duck, and... ...found herself abruptly ensconced in something white and fluffy. "Q-tips," said a satisfied voice from outside her cocoon of cardboard and cotton. "Never underestimate the power of Q-tips." Catherine tried to move her arms, to no avail; the Q-tips were interlocked, forming a neat cage. "And now," said the demented woman in the Forkni shirt, "for a *truly* tasteless attack..." ========================================== "Classless," muttered the disgruntled Cousine, "without style. How dare she?" "The rest of my pay, if you please," Jamie prodded. Her client reached into her purse and withdrew the requested item. "What are you going to do with this?" she wanted to know. "I'm gonna look at it," said Jamie, "and I'm gonna savor it, and I'm gonna drool over it; and I'm going to keep it as an ace in the hole, just in case the Cousins decide to to come after me. One look at this puppy oughta stop 'em in their tracks. And hey, if I ever have to contend with the Jills..." She glanced at the item in question. "Ooooh, look, he has a birthmark on his thigh; isn't that cute? Say, how'd you get this anyway?" "That's a whole other story," said the client, with a scowl (for it was a story she hadn't written yet). "So..." she said eagerly, "what'd you do to her, huh?" Jamie grinned, looking more demented than ever. "Something... unfriendly," she said. ========================================== Freed from her Q-tip prison, Catherine ran down the street, as fast as she could. Her chest was heaving, her legs aching, yet she dared not stop... The heavy chains clanked as she moved, and the blood-saturated Milk Bone was a foul-smelling weight around her neck... And behind her, eyes glowing, tail wagging, Perry the Vampire Dog bounded along, anxiously seeking his doggie treat... =========================================== "I did something nasty," Jamie announced, as she entered Merc HQ, "and I got paid for it. Can I be a Merc now?" She dumped the ten pounds of chocolate that had been her payment-up-front for the job in question onto the table in front of her would-be allies (the other item was safely nestled in her backpack, hidden from prying eyes) and awaited the Mercenaries' verdict... ### ANOTHER ONE BROUGHT ACROSS by Maureen "The Mad" Wynn (additions/revisions by Jamie M.R.; input by Lane & Chris) Time: Early evening Place: Merc Central Merc Central was actually occupied tonight. After several days of intense activities - parties, and plots, and rescues, and then more parties, several mercs had decided to spend a night resting and recuperating. Maureen and Sara were lounging about in the living room, and trying to decide if they wanted to stay in and watch TV or go out to a movie. Maureen had the newspaper, and was trying to check out the entertainment section, somewhat hampered by the cat in her lap. "How about 'Get Shorty'? Dianne said that every merc should see that movie - she said it actually gave her some good ideas." "I don't want to *work* tonight! How about that Holly Hunter movie - what is it, 'Home for the Holidays'? That sounds like fun." Maureen shuddered. "No, it sounds too much like *my* family's holidays! Definitely NOT." She looked at the paper again, pushing away an intrusive paw. "How about 'Vampire in Brooklyn'?" "Oh, yeah, like I'm gonna believe Eddie Murphy as a vampire! No way!" "Well, there's that other vampire flick - 'Nadja'. I don't know if I really want to see it, though. I think it's supposed to be kind of depressing..." Just then the front door banged open, and Cousin Jamie stomped into the room carrying a bag. "I did something nasty," Jamie announced, "And I got paid for it. Can I be a Merc now?" She dumped a large amount of chocolate on the table in front of the startled mercs, and waited for them to say something. Maureen spotted a dark chocolate truffle and reached for it, only to be beat out by Sara. Maureen glared at her for a moment, then settled for a dark chocolate covered cherry. "Congratulations," Lane said; his nose wrinkled at the smell of the chocolate. "Welcome aboard," he tossed over his shoulder as he departed. "Mmmm! Well, you know, Jamie, you don't exactly have to *prove* yourself or anything like that to be a Mercenary..." "Well, I felt that I did." Maureen picked up another piece of chocolate and started to nibble on it. "It's kind of like being a Cousin," she concluded. "You don't *become* a Merc, you just *are* one." "Then I guess I are one!" Jamie declared, smiling mercenarily. "There is just one more thing..." Maureen added thoughtfully, thinking about Jamie's avowed code of behavior. "To join the Guild, you *do* have to swear to abide by the Guild Charter. You do seem to have some trouble playing by the rules at times," she added, trying to put it delicately. "I wouldn't want you to feel, um, constrained or anything like that." "Oh. I guess I could try to follow the Charter. What do I have to do?" "Well, you can't take money for a job that you have no intention of finishing," Maureen said, frowning slightly in memory of Wars past. "Not my style," Jamie affirmed. "You have to keep Guild business confidential, you can't tell anyone outside the Guild who your clients are, you can't attack other Guild members..." "Not even for fun? Not even if I write 'em an easy way out?" Maureen sighed. "I'll give you a copy of the Charter, and you can read it and see if you'd be willing to follow it." "Okie-dokie!" Jamie said, settling herself on the couch and reaching for a piece of chocolate. "You know, it feels good to finally decide what I am! I've waffled around enough. This way," she said, chewing, "I can indulge all my sympathies without having to worry about betraying any given faction. And get paid for doing fun things I'd be doing anyway!" "*Now* you have the right idea!" Maureen held out her hand, Jamie took it, and they solemnly shook on it. "Welcome home!" ===============sometime later============== "Christina?" "Mph." "You still sleeping?" "Mmmph." Jamie sat down on the bed carefully, so as not to jar the near-unconscious Merc. "I brought you chocolate," she said, and held out the bag she'd gotten for the *other* job, as an advance. "Mmmmmmph," and a hand shot out, snagged a piece. "I'm in," Jamie said triumphantly. "I've been accepted into the Guild." "Mmph," Christina said, eyes half-open. "Anfagwacrinmygook." "What?" The new Mercenary handed her companion the cup of coffee she'd brought. Chris took a sip. "Anybody who drives my getaway car is in, in my book," she said with a wicked grin. "As long as she shares the chocolate... this time." Jamie grinned, scooped her cat off Christina's pillow (//little slut-kitty sleeps with anyone,// she thought, without rancor) and went to her own bed, fell instantly asleep with Elfy nestled beside her head. ### PERRIDOG Or: Am I Ever Gonna Get An Earful Tonight! by Catherine Boone Time: Early evening Place: Toronto God, did she hate dogs. Catherine kept running. She was sliding around all over the place on the icy sidewalk, but she kept going, while that dog, the little (okay, not so little) monster, was loping along behind her like this little game was just the best thing since sliced butter. Hate dogs. *Hate*. And of course, this being the one point where Catherine would actually need his help, Nick was probably off getting a cat out of a tree. Or a dog. Probably a dog. And so it was, while running in the middle of downtown Toronto, chains rattling to and fro, a blood-soaked doggie biscuit around her neck, and a flying dog after her, Catherine pondered the meaning of it all. Unfortunately for her, yet very fortunately for all of you, it was a very short ponder, because after about five minutes of running, Catherine's asthma decided to come up and strangle her. She wondered briefly whether it would be better just to run herself into unconciousness, or go down fighting. She decided that just stopping was a pretty neat idea in and of itself, and she'd figure the rest out later. Collapsing in a heap on the sidewalk, she waited for the end. Funny how your death can come in wierd bits and pieces. She could hear crunching noises, yet she couldn't feel a thing. She peeked one eye open, to the sight of Dog chowing down on the doggie bone, happy as a clam. Catherine frowned in annoyance. "Look, man, are you gonna do this or not? Chop chop! I got places to go, people to see here!" Leave it to a dog... But Dog ignored her. Apparently she was about as important to him as the hand... the hand that feeds him... Catherine snatched up the end of the bone and cooed and petted with all her might. "*Goooood* doggie! *Niiiiice* doggie! You don't want to eat me, now do you? Of coooourse noooot..." Dog quickly scarfed his meal, and looked up at her expectantly, wagging his tail. Catherine hoped dearly that that wasn't an "I want more" wag, "You wanna play, fella? Hmm? Here, this should be good." She handed him a section of chain. "Okay, now bite down real hard, okay? Pretty please? Oh, no. No no. *No* tug of war! *No*! Oh, sh..." Dog took off down the street, chain still firmly in his teeth, Catherine dragged quite unceremoniously behind, for several blocks. It was when he started to take for the air that she grabbed a nearby lightpole and hung on for dear life. "*NO*!! Bad dog! No flying! You are *not* takin' me up there!" But Dog thought this tug of war was just too cool. He hung in midair, pulling with all his might, while Catherine wrapped both arms and legs around the lightpole and prayed. But Dog got pretty bored after a while, even though he did figure out that, while Catherine didn't go out, she did slide up and down fantastically well. He let her sink back to the ground, and came up to lick her face. "Ewww! Blood drool! Back off!" She looked down at her chains split neatly in two. "Ooh, but aren't you a niiice doggie? You got me out of my chaaaains!" Dog sat petiently while Catherine extracted herself from the maze of chains around he her. "So what should I do with you, Dog? Huh? Well, I guess first off, you need a name besides Dog." "Let's see... carrying me off with you, where angels fear to tread, all in the name of a darn good time..." A dog and his girl walked off into the moonrise. "...I guess I should call you Perri..." ### ANONYMOUS CALL by Bruce Gray Time: Late Evening Place: Toronto Bruce shut the door of the pay telephone booth, glad to be out of the icy breeze. He inserted a coin and dialed the number of the precinct where Nick and Tracy worked. When an officer came on the line, he disguised his voice and said, "I have information about the young women who were drugged with LSD. The ones from the States who were taken to the hospital the other night." "Then you want to speak to a vice detective, or Detective Vetter or Knight." "Can't risk that. But the people responsible are at..." He gave the address of Merc Central. "The evidence is there." Then he hung up. He smiled slightly. The packets the police would find at the Merc headquarters would *appear* to be LSD. But it would take some lab time to discover that it was not. In the meantime, some (or maybe all) of them would be arrested and questioned. He almost wished he could be there to watch. As Bruce walked away from the pay phone, he thought to himself how useful it was to be able to mimic LaCroix. ### ON BECOMING THE KIDNAPPEE, AND THE AFTERMATH THEREOF by Tara O'Shea Place: The Raven Tara slipped out the back door, shivering. "Should have brought my trench," she muttered as she flicked her lighter. Janette might not have minded her smoking inside the club, but Amy was deathly allergic, no post hypnotic suggestion was going to change that, and so Tara had taken to smoking in the alley behind the club while the Natpacker was present. And now that she was gone, other non-smoking Ravens had indicated gently that perhaps this was a custom she should keep. Tara could take a hint. As she touched the sputtering flame to the end of her cigarette, she caught a flicker of movement out of the corner of her eye. Before she could react, a hand shot out to cover her mouth, the cigarette flying to land in a puddle in the alley and sizzle out. Strong arms--preternaturally strong--dragged her backwards despite her kicking and scratching, and she found herself dumped into the back of a van. "What the bloody hell--" she spat out before a gag was stuffed in her mouth, and she looked up to find Vachon, Sherri and Torrey revealed by the lights of a passing car. Torrey wrapped a rope around her as she spat out the gag. "Mind the dress!" "Don't worry Johanna," Torrey patted her head as she did the knots. "It won't be for long." "My name isn't--" another gag was stuffed into her mouth, and she was forced to staring daggers at her captors. But they ignored her. * * * "I want to know which one of your factions is responsible for destroying my church." As soon as the gag was removed, Tara started cursing. "Silence!" Vachon thundered, and Tara resumed glaring at him. This was not how she pictured their meeting "I am sure that you all heard my question?" Vachon said, looking down on them. "I want an answer." *An answer?* Tara's eyes narrowed. *Fine. I would have told you if you hadn't resorted to the tactics of a sneak thief and thug. Forget it, pretty-boy.* "What would I want with this old Church?" Tara snapped, deciding to play the fool for now. The miffed fool. "It's not stylish *at all*!" The others just sat there, glaring at him. Torrey motioned Vachon over to the corner. Tara worked her jaw, trying to remove the taste of the gag, and struggled with the robes. No luck, they were tight. Nothing to do but wait this one out. * * * Tara tried to calm down. No real harm had been done. Well, her dress was a mess, but she'd live. "Hey, you okay?" Urs took in the sight of rumbled, torn dress and smeared makeup. "What's a little kidnapping between friends?" Tara tried to shrug it off. "If Javier listened to me, well, these things wouldn't happen," Urs sighed, and then took Tara by the arm. "Where--?" "I think you are in the need of a loaner, dress that is. It'll make you feel 100% better, I promise." * * * Tara twirled in front of the mirror, and laughed. The green silk Suzy Wong number slit up to there did indeed make up for the past few hours. "I've always wanted a dress like this." "Susan will have to turn the hose on the boys for a change," Urs raised an eyebrow, and Tara laughed, slipping on the heels. "I should be so lucky." "Now then, I think you need a drink." "Think there's a bottle of Bushmills around here someplace?" They linked arms and headed back out into the club. "I think we can lay our hands on some." "I think we've got quite a party ahead of us," Tara surmised, pretending not to notice Miklos's eyebrows shooting up towards his hairline. It probably had more to do with the fact that Urs had changed into a smellier dress, however her dress was a pearl silver mini, and the blonde vampire had the legs to make it work. "Hey Urs, you know what?" "What?" "I really do like you. Now, let's get some fine Irish whiskey for me, and a little of the red stuff for you." ### COUSINS, COUSINS, EVERYWHERE by Susan M. Garrett Time: Evening Place: The Raven Standing behind the bar, Tami had to twist sideways to look at Susan's laptop screen. "Writing a story?" "Trying to figure out what the Nat-Pack cost us in glassware," said Susan crossly. She clicked the off button and closed the laptop with a small sigh. "I can't write in the middle of a war. Not with LaCroix around. I swear, he's got some sort of 'anti-Nick' field--he talks such a good game, anything I write turns out to be pro-Uncle." The two glasses Tami held in her hand by the stems clinked together as she shivered at the thought. "Ick." "Exactly," agreed Susan. She took a drink from the mug on the bar beside her, made a face, then replaced it. Tami peered suspiciously at the cup. "Irish coffee?" "Naw, just coffee," said Susan. Frowning, she pushed the cup away. "God, that stuff's worse than beer." "I thought you didn't drink coffee." "You're right, I don't." With a sigh, Susan lifted the cup and brought it to her lips again, then swallowed and shuddered. "But as long as it's here and we've got the last coffee in Toronto, I might as well rub it in, right?" "War is hell," intoned Tami solemnly. "Amen." Susan rubbed her eyes wearily. "Since LaCroix took over Janette's office again, I haven't gotten a wink of sleep. That's my table in there, darn it. Who does he think he is, keeping me from sleeping underneath my own table?" Tami coughed politely. "Uh . . . we've got plenty of tables out here. You could have any one you wanted . . . ." "I suppose. But . . . it's not the same. The little wad of gun stuck at one end, 'Nick is a heartless bastard' incised just under the lip by somebody's fingernail, and you don't even want to know the stuff written on there in lipstick. It reminds me of the good old days." "When Janette was around?" "Yeah." With another sigh, Susan rose from the stool. "Time to make my rounds. Miklos has been missing for a half-hour, I'd better reload the water pistol ag--" She stopped in mid-sentence as a very annoyed and more than slightly disheveled Tara shoved aside the bouncer and came barreling through the door. "," she announced loudly, "have been kidnapped!" Tara's loudest was pretty loud, but couldn't quite compete with the ambient noise level of the Raven. Only a few people even looked up at her pronouncement. Susan, however, gave the high sign to Tami, who immediately poured Tara a glass of their best Scotch. Catching Tara's arm, Susan led her to the bar and pulled over an ashtray seconds before the cigarette in Tara's hand was set alight, the bright red fire at the tip matching the unholy gleam in her eyes. "Not the Cousins?" asked Susan hesitantly. She glanced around the room, knowing that the Cousins had been, more or less, on their 'as best as they could be and still live up to their membership obligations' behavior at the Raven. "Oh no." Tara shook her head, took a slug of the Scotch with the cigarette still dangling from the corner of her mouth, and said bitterly, "The Vaqueros." "The cow people?" Susan looked at Tami, who shrugged. "Why would the personas de vaca kidnap you? Tara, did you do anything to Vachon?" "Me? Perish the thought. Just because he's got a cute ass--" "They didn't hear about that song you made up?" "How can they hear anything, with all that hair hanging all over the place." She flicked her cigarette ash into the tray dismissively. "Would you believe that they interrogated me? They wanted to find out what we knew about the war starting and who started it." Tami waved away a patron who was banging on the bar and leaned forward. "I thought the Nat Pack was responsible." "Of course they are," agreed Tara. After sending another plume of smoke aloft, she shook her head. "God, you would have thought everyone had figured it out by now. They went nuts and started the war--that's it, that's all . . . hello baby!" Susan turned and followed Tara's gaze, catching sight of Miklos across the room--oh my God, he was waiting tables! But she forced herself to attend to the matter at hand and tapped the holster of the water gun strapped to her waist meaningfully. Taking the hint, Tara turned back to the bar, grinning slyly. "You know, you've gotta run out of water sometime . . . ." "Let's hope it lasts until the war's over." Susan nodded as Dave approached and added quietly, "Well, no harm done. At least you're in one piece. After that party, I'm not up for the white hats and heigh-ho silver rescue detail." "Silver we got. In spades," said Dave. He gestured toward the laptop. "Mind if I borrow that? I want to keep up on the receipts. Oh, and we're down to six cases of Amaretto. Should I order more?" Now that Dave had taken over the Raven's bookkeeping, things were running pretty smoothly. Susan paused for a moment and did some mental calculations. "Why bother?" said Tara sharply. "In a week, the club, all the stock, goes back to LaCroix. Why make it easy for him?" Tami frowned. "Makes you feel like drinking everything you can, till you burst." Susan smiled and touched a finger to her lips thoughtfully. "Hang on, that's not such a bad idea. Not the bursting bit," she added quickly, when Tami stared at her, "but that drinking idea's not half bad. Look, we have to bring in our three new Ravens anyway, right? So why not run them through the initiation and have a black-tie blow-out on the 17th? We can invite everyone, drinks will be on the house--" "Sounds great." Dave picked up the laptop and tucked it under his arm, grinning. "But we'd better watch that underage drinking thing. Designated drivers should get some sort of cash prize or something. And I guess we'd want to avoid alcohol poisoning." "We do this," said Susan. "I don't know how good an idea it would be to have loaded vampires and loaded mortals hanging around together. And I don't want the place trashed--I want to give this place back to LaCroix the way Janette left it, just to remind him." Tara dismissed her worries with a wave of her cigarette. "Are you kidding? It would be great. Make sure you invite the Vaqueros. I bet they can't hold their booze worth a damn. Be interesting to see what Vachon thinks of his little groupies when they get shit-faced and he ends up fighting them off." "Assuming Vachon doesn't get shit-faced as well," noted Dave, with a certain amount of sagacity. Susan looked at Tami, who headed back to the clientele at the bar, but gave her a thumbs up in passing. "There's one vote. As for me, well, it's dangerous . . . but it be a gas." She gestured toward the laptop under Dave's arm. "Get that back to me as soon as you can, okay? I'd like to compose the invitations and send them out as soon as possible." "What about the computer in Janette's office?" asked Tara. She looked down at the floor, scowling. "Where do you think my table is? LaCroix's got his maps on it--he's been playing Myst. And boy does get in a foul mood when he gets stuck! Makes you wonder why anyone would be a Cousin." Then Susan grinned as she looked up. "Gee, I guess what LaCroix doesn't know won't hurt us." ### MOON OVER TORONTO by Leslie and Jill Kirby Time: Late night Place: Nat's apartment "I need like *three* Extra Strength Tylenol for this headache," said Jill as she unlocked the door and ran to Nat's bathroom, nearly tripping over a sleeping bag in the process. "Grab a couple for me," called Leslie. Leslie surveyed Nat's living room. <> The Natpack, despite their reputation for organization, could do some serious damage to their living space. Nat had been more than gracious to put up with not only suitcases and sleeping bags all over her living room, but stuffed animals, crumbled T-shirts, plastic water bottles, left over fish wrappers, pieces of make-shift costumes, and old Kleenexes. <> "Here you go." Jill handed two Tylenol to Leslie. "Thanks. Let's see if Nat has something to drink left in her frig so we can take these. Then, we *clean* this place. I don't want Nat coming back to this mess." "You're right. It's clean up time. Why don't you get started, and I'll find something to drink," said Jill. "Was it just me or did that taxi smell." Leslie called after Jill, who was already rummaging through the refrigerator. "Yeah, which is really odd because cabs here are usually so clean," yelled Jill. "Maybe it's just the after effects of the drug," sighed Leslie weakly. "What did you say?" Jill came out of the Kitchen holding a Diet Coke. "Nothing. Is that it?" Leslie looked at the can in Jill's hand. "You know I don't drink soda." "Well, this is it, girl. Take it or leave it," said Jill flatly. *** After just an hour, Leslie and Jill had manage to pick up all the trash in the apartment, place any dirty clothes in Nat's laundry basket, and straighten the sleeping bags so the floor was actually visible. "There," sighed Leslie as she plopped down on the couch, "we just have one more thing." "What? This is the best we can do without the other's," said Jill, who'd just finished her Diet Coke. "Where is everyone anyway?" "I don't know, but I'm sure we'll hook up with them later," said Leslie. "Now, we have one more clean up job." "And that is?" Jill looked at Leslie suspiciously. "I think it's time we returned Laura's Moon Over Miami tapes and arrange to have the tattoo removal solution delivered to Jamie." Leslie rose from the couch and picked up the phone. After several rings, her brother answered groggily, "Hello?" "Brooks, it's me." "Leslie, it's after 1 am. This better be good," said Brooks angrily. "It is. I need you to retrieve something for me and deliver it to Laura's...." Leslie told Brooks where he could find the tapes and gave him directions to Laura's. "Thanks, Brooks." "You owe me big, Les," said Brooks, "and I'll collect." Leslie hung up the phone and turned to Jill. "Your turn." *** Shortly after Jill and Leslie crashed for the night, weary Natpackers filed through the door of Nat's apartment. Sharon and GT entered first, followed by Amy and Elaine. "It's not a good sign when anyone can just walk into Nat's place, and nobody moves," said Sharon catching sight of Leslie and Jill in their sleeping bags. "I'm surprised they were released so soon," whispered Amy. "Let's try not to wake them." "That won't be hard to do," said Sharon wryly. ### ***Friday, November 10, 1995*** NO SIGNS OF STRUGGLE by Sharon Himmanen & Jennie Hayes Time: Morning Place: Natalie's apartment The shades were drawn, the room was in semi-darkness, and over half a dozen half-asleep bodies were strewn all around the living room of Natalie Lambert's apartment. When the sound of a phone ringing shattered the preturnatural quiet of the room, nearly all its occupants winced in pain. Elaine was the first to silence the offending sound by rising quicker than she should have and snatching the phone from its cradle. "What?" she mumbled into the phone. "Who's this?" a feminine voice demanded. "Elaine," she managed to mumble. "Who's this?" "It's Grace. Have you seen Natalie?" "Have I seen Natalie?" Elaine repeated, wincing. "Don't talk so loud," Jill moaned from somewhere nearby. "Yeah, Natalie. You remember her, medium hight, hazel eyes, lots of curly brown hair. Ring a bell?" "I hope not. My head hurts," Elaine replied, her mind still fuzzy. Most of the NatPackers, while they'd been released from the hospital after overnight observations, were far from their best, most suffering from dizziness, headaches, or both. Grace sighed in exasperation. "Look, this is serious. Can you put someone on who's more awake?" "More awake?" Elaine asked. Just then Sharon emerged from the kitchen and took the phone from Elaine's hand. "I've got it," she said, then ducked back into the kitchen, closing the door. "Grace, it's Sharon." "Good! Have you seen Natalie?" Sharon thought for a moment. "No," she said, shaking her head. "Not since I saw her at the hospital early Wednesday morning. Though I think she stopped by here yesterday sometime. I vaguely remember her coming in for a glass of water or something, but I was pretty tired." "*When* was that?" Grace asked. "This is really important." Sharon thought for a moment. "It was still dark. Thursday morning I think. I remember she almost tripped over Amy. I don't remember her leaving, though." Grace sighed. "She must have gone home for a water sample or something." "Grace, what's going on? Water samples?" "Natalie said that someone slipped you guys an LSD derivative and she thought it might have been in the water." Sharon nodded. "She's probably right. When we got home yesterday, all the faucets were running. We just figured someone had attacked us. Maybe whoever it was was flushing out the system." "I think you'd better get over here," Grace said solemnly. "Natalie hasn't been in to work for 24 hours and you say you haven't seen her since yesterday. I don't like it." "Have you called Nick?" "Yeah, just a little while ago. He says he hasn't seen her either, but he thinks she might be avoiding him." "OK, I'll be right over." Just as she was about to hang up she heard Grace's voice over the phone, trying to get her attention. "What?" "I don't suppose you'd have any water there we might test, left over?" Sharon thought for a moment, then looked down at the garbage can next to her. "I might." She hung up the phone, took a long sip of Coke, wondering for the hundredth time just who had cut off the coffee supply. She'd searched Nat's apartment and found half a bag of beans and a jar of instant which she was hoarding, making do as much as she could with Coke and caffeine pills. If things weren't so crazy right now she'd try to get to the bottom of the coffee situation, sure that one of the factions was behind it. But there just wasn't time. Rooting quickly through the garbage, which they'd also not had time to empty for the last couple of days due to the ensuing chaos, she dug out several old coffee filters and dropped them into plastic bags she found in the cupboards. Then she went out into the living room and threw the curtains open, which earned her several loud protests, and Amy sat up, her eyes closed, and began signing frantically at her. Sharon walked over several groggy bodies and grabbed her hand. "Nat's missing," she all but yelled. "Get up! We've got to meet Grace at the morgue in a few minutes." That seemed to rouse everyone but Amy, who tried to lie back down sleepily. Sharon grabbed the top of her sleeping bag and yanked it back. "I'm serious, Amy! Up, up, up! Nat's missing. This is very, very bad!" ***** Time: Morning Place: The Morgue With one a quick detour at the hospital, the group trouped into the morgue by late morning. They found Grace standing in the middle of a more or less orderly looking lab, but something about Grace's expression when she saw them worried the assembled group. "This place has been searched," Grace announced. Leslie looked around. "It looks fine to me." "It was subtle, but thorough," Grace insisted. "She . . . she had a notebook where she was keeping her test results. She always leaves those things on her desk." Sharon cast Grace a guarded look, a bit worried that Grace knew that. But Grace continued. "Now, usually, I don't have any reason to go through her things, but the notebook's not even there! I've looked everywhere for it, even went through the garbage. She'd never be that careless with a lab notebook." "Maybe she took it with her," Jill said, walking over to the desk and shuffling through a few folders. "Then where?" Grace asked. "You guys know as well as I do that if she's not at home, and she's not at work, and Nick hasn't seen her, she's missing." "Have you called the police?" GT asked. Grace nodded. "I let Nick know. I'm not sure how seriously he took this, but he *does* know." She looked pointedly at the group, letting them know that whatever was going on, she didn't find it funny any more. Neither did they. Sharon nodded. "We should go and talk to him," she said. "Oh, here," she said, handing Grace the bags of coffee filters and water bottle. "The coffee filters might contain some of the stuff, and that's the water bottle Valerie filled at Nat's right before everything went crazy." "I'll get right on these," Grace said, taking the items from Sharon's hands. "Well start searching for any clues as to where Nat might be, "Sharon said, as the other looked around with worried expressions on their face. "And we'll try to talk to Nick and some of the others. I think it's time we filled everyone in on what we know," Leslie added. The others nodded in agreement. ### BIG MERC ATTACK (Part 3) by Bruce Gray Time: 9am Place: Merc Headquarters The doorbell rang at Merc Headquarters. One of the Mercs looked and said, "It's the police." After looking at each other, a Merc opened the door. "I have a warrant to search this premises for illegal substances," said one policeman, holding up a paper as he and two other officers barged into the room. The Mercs present were stunned and confused. But the police had a valid warrant and they could only watch as a thorough search of the premises was done. They found the suspicious looking packets in the bedrooms. There were assertions of innocence of how the packets got there from the Mercs. But all those present were arrested anyway. ### SO *THAT'S* WHO WAS HANGING WITH THE COUSINS...! (e) by Jamie Melody Randall Time: 9:05am EST Place: Merc Central Someone shook the doppelganger's shoulder. "Wha?" she said blurrily. "You've been hallucinating," said the real Cousin Jamie, with disgust. "Jeez, some doppelganger you are; you can't hold your chemicals half as well as I can... What'd you hallucinate about, anyway? Anything good, like LaCroix's underwear?" "No, just cops, and..." Doppelganger Jamie shook her head. "Never mind. It's best forgotten, in any case." To think, she had actually imagined that Sandra Grey's husband had mutated into LaCroix... And all around them, the Mercenaries shook their heads and went about their business... ### DAZED AND CONFUSED (Part 1) by Risha Time: 12:51pm EST Place: Toronto "Miss? Are you all right? Miss?" I nearly jumped out of my skin as the police officer put his hand on my shoulder. "Yes, yes, I'm fine. Thanks." The officer looked at me suspiciously for a few seconds, but then shrugged and walked on down the crowded city street. *Wait a second. Crowded city street?* I glanced around me. *Yup, crowded city street. One problem. Or rather, three. What city, what am I doing here, and why can't I remember the answers to any of these questions?* *Question four- and why am I wearing these clothes?* No wonder the cop had looked so suspicious. I looked like a hooker. Janette would have been horrified. A newspaper from the stand down the street solved one question, and added another. *OK, I'm still in Toronto. But why is it Saturday? Saturday the _10th_?!?* "The 10TH? The 10TH!!!" I grabbed the man standing in front me. "WHAT THE H*** HAVE I BEEN DOING FOR THE LAST WEEK AND A HALF!!!?!!!" The stares from passerbys brought me to my senses, making me realize that I had been strangling the man I had grabbed. "Oops... ahh... sorry," I muttered as I hurridly released him and started to straighten his clothes. He gurgled at me. "No, really, I'm very sorry, it's just that I just found out that I have been god-knows-where doing god-knows-what for the past week and a half, since just after I kidnapped one of my friends and tied her naked to this statue... oh, never mind." ### HIDING OUT by Cousin Candice Time: Midafternoon Place: LaCroix's Digs for about an hour and then some random hotel Candice had been staring out the window at the car positioned across the street from the apartment for over 2 hours. It had shown up shortly after she'd woken up on the floor. Candice had peaked out the blinds and saw the man she'd talked with the previous night leaning against the car, looking up at the window. *HER* window. He was waiting for her. She wasn't about to let him kidnap her. She'd had *quite* enough of that already. Candice grabbed her knapsack, stuffed her essentials in it plus some clothing and cash, the keys to the '67 Mustang and ran down the back stairs into the garage. Candice prayed it was a standard. Candice gunned the engine, pressed the garage opener and sped out onto the road. She had no idea where to go, who to call. She hadn't seen Uncle in days and wasn' expecting any help from that direction. Candice found herself traveling west, with no sign of the guy that had followed her from the club. A sign caught her attention 'MOTEL $25 a night! We have CABLE!' "Perfect." Candice turned in and rented a room for the week. She dumped her things on the less-that-bouncy bed and flicked ont he t.v. "Who to call, who to call.."she mused, "I got it!" Candice turned on her cell phone and dialed the number of Ron the Enforcer's own phone. She'd gotten the number out of LaCroix's own organizer (hey, no one said I couldn't snoop!) "C'mon, answer Ron,..answer" "Ron here." Candice gulped and was shaking, a feeling of dread came over her. "Hello? Anybody there? ..Remember -you called *me*." "Um, yeah, hi." Candice said meakly, "You don't know me, but I need help." "Riiight, and what is it I can do for you Miss...??" "Oh, sorry, I..I'm Candice ..Cousin Candice and I was staying with LaCroix up until an hour ago and.." she proceeded to tell the Enforcer the whole story up to the current situation. "Hmm." "So can you help or what?" "Stay put. I'll go over to Lucien's place and check it out. Just DONT move. You should be safe where you are." "Are you sure? What'll happen if he comes here, what if ..." Candice's throat swelled shut with anxiety and came close to tears. "Candice? Candice are you still there? It's okay, it'll be alright. No one's gonna hurt you." She whispered "thanks" into the phone, hung up and went to sleep. ### YOU CAN NEVER FIND YOUR TWO-LEGS WHEN YOU NEED HER by Kimberley Low Place: Toronto/Ballymoresk These two-legs really know how to screw things up, don't they? Me and Halloween were able to convice Toggle to take us to Sydney. I even got him to lend Halloween his cap. We decided on elastic since Halloween didn't want a big bow under his chin. He was upset enough that he'd have to wear it for a week for him to sufficiently get used to the Sight for it to be permanent. You should have seen him when Selma, that was Sydney's temporary two-legs, tried to take it off! Oh, yeah, Sydney was fine. When we got there he was living like a king! Between the fish in the plastic container, the hotel's drapes, and her clothing, Sydney had that Selma-person willing to give him anything. Including permisson for two friends to stay with him. And when we finally got back to Sydney's apartment, guess what. They'd lost Sydney's person! Something about a kidnapping by men in black. Now all these people keep coming in. Sydney says they're friends of his two-legs and they mean well. He says they might even be able to find her if they stay focussed. Then he mumbled something about seeing the same attention span when the neighbor's ferret got into all that coffee. "Any luck finding Nat so far? I was finally able to get rid of that final case of frog's legs but I didn't hear anything of use along the way." Uh oh. What's SHE doing here? I knew she was coming to Toronto but I didn't expect her to be here! *Halloween! What are we going to do?!* *It's OK, kitten. Maybe Selma won't mention us in detail. Just keep out of sight.* "Kim, do you know where the 204 and 613 area codes are for?" It's that Selma person again. Halloween never looks paniced but he does now! "204's for Manitoba and 613's for Ottawa. Why do you ask?" "When I was taking care of Sydney two cats latched onto me. The bigger one's collar has a 613 area-code and the smaller one's collar has both the 613 number and a 204 number. Both have really wierd names. Halloween and Angus Mid-hir." "It's pronounced Mithir." Good, she sounds distracted, maybe she won't notice. "Wait a minute, did you say Angus Midhir and Halloween? They're here?!" "They should be. I saw them running off to the bedroom when you walked in." She's coming in! "An-gus! Hallowe-en! I know you're in here! You might as well come on out." Oh, well. Halloween looks resigned so I guess I should be too. *OK, kitten. I'll go out first then you follow. She hasn't seen me in awhile, maybe it'll soften her up.* "Purr-ow?" "Mew-ow" "What are you two doing here? How did you get here?" She needs more practice carrying two cats at once. This isn't all that comfortable. "What do you feed that black cat?!" "Very funny. _This_ is Halloween. He lives with my parents in Ottawa. _This_ is Angus Midhir. _He_ lives in Brandon with me. Any ideas on how they got here?" "None. Meanwhile we have still got to find Nat. You coming Kim?" "Yeah. Sure. I'll be with you in a second. OK little ones, I have to go but be good while I'm gone." Uh huh. Yeah. Long nails. Right there behind the ear. Hey! Wait a minute! Where do you think you're going! You call that a scratch? She left me again! We really need to work on that. Of course these other people look really interesting. Just walk right up and see their eyes water and their nose go all itchy. *Midhir get over here! We need to figure out a way to find Natalie.* *Yes, Sydney. I'm coming.* *Would these vampires be considered part of that Unseelie court Toggle was worried about?* *Well, the Seelie court thinks so but most of the Community, as they like to call themselves, don't really believe in the Sidhe and those that do don't really want to be considered part of it.* *But the Laird of Ballymoresk does keep an eye on them, right?* *Probably.* *Good, then that's where we'll go. If it is these men in black then they'll probably have drawn the attention of those watching the vampires. Now we just have to figure out a way of getting out of here.* ### PLOT TWISTS (Part 4a) by Wyndi and Diana Time: 4pm EST Place: Candi's e-mail account A rather strange e-mail, sending address unknown, appeard in Cousin Candilabra's (Candi for short) e-mail account. From: To: cardascg@bigvax.alfred.edu Subject: WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! CANDI, WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU INTO OVER THERE?????????????One minute, I was peacefully at home, the next I was in a BOX! and it's CRAMPED! They finally let me have a computer so that I could keep up on my lists, (DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY D****D MESAGES I HAD ON MY ACCOUNT???????) I'm sorry, hunny.... I've just been cramped in this box for what seems like weeks now. I haven't seen anyone since that night... I've heard a few voices, but very faint. I don't even know where I am now! Could you PLEASE do something to get me out of here? I have my sword, but it doesn't do much good against people I never see..... They're ordering me back in the box now, so this is all I can say... I only hope you can get me out of this! I love you forever, Brian PS: At least they let me listen to my Queen. MAIL> *** Time: 4:30pm EST Place: Don't you wish you knew. A good friend of Wyndi's smiled as the box was finnaly sent off. He had been getting sick of Queen. She owed him BIG TIME! "What time will that get to it's destination?" The clerk behind the counter checked a few papers. "It should reach Indianapolis sometime tomorrow, Sir." "Thank you." Jaguarundi turned and left the post office. ### DAZED AND CONFUSED (Part 2) by Risha Time: 4:30pm EST Place: Toronto I collapsed exhausted onto the double bed in my hotel room. At least, I _thought_ that it was my hotel room. I had found the keycard in my purse, but since I still had no recollection of the room, much less where I had been since the beginning of the War, I really had no way to be sure. *Unless, of course, whoever's room this is shows up.* *At least I have money.* When it had finally occurred to me to check my purse, I had found a few useful items. (Fortunately, I hadn't lost it. Of course, anybody who knows me knows that I never go anywhere without that sucker. I feel naked without it, and yes, I mean that literally). There was not only the keycard, and the address and room number of the hotel, but a sizeable wad of cash (*and where did I get that? I don't have anywhere close to that much in the bank, and most of _that_ is going to Citibank*), a few odds and ends like my knife, passport, MAC card, hairbrush, and makeup. Plus , and most importantly, a copy of Wyndi's credit card, the one that was being payed for by her strange net friend Lucius. At least, I hoped that it was a copy, or else Wyndi and Di were probably in trouble. *At least I know that I wasn't mugged. But... I think that I remember... pain?* FLASHBACK *My throat is killing me... My entire body aches...* *I wish I was dead. Though with the way that I feel, it's probably not that far off.* A cool hand wiped my brow with a damp cloth. It felt cold against my damp and burning skin. My body shivered with bone-deep chills. A cup was held against my lips. A strong arm supported me in a half sitting position as I gulped the liquid gratefully, ignoring the firey pain in my throat. I fell back against pillows with a sigh. The indistinct figure of my caretaker rose and disappered into the darkened room. END FLASHBACK I found myself lying on the bed. *Wow, those flashback thingys really _are_ dangerous. Good thing I wasn't driving at the time. Not that I have my licence yet, but it's the principle of the thing.* I stalked out of my room fuming. "So I was sick again, was I? Every single War, I get sick." Pausing, I gazed up at the Toronto skyline, dominated as ever by the CN Tower. "EVERY SINGLE WAR! Last time, I was sick for more than _three weeks_! During finals!!!" Passerbys tried to ignore the madwoman as she clambered up on a nearby post office mailbox. "This is biological warfare! I will find out who is doing this to me, and they will _pay_. " Dramatic light streamed over her as she stood sillouetted against the sunset. "As God is my witness, I WILL NEVER BE SICK DURING A WAR AGAIN!" ### BETTER LATE THAN...WHATEVER Or: Victoria Goes to Toronto by Victoria Meredith Time: Afternoon Place: International English Study Institute at Alderson-Broaddus College Elkins, West Virginia "Oh MAAAAAN!" *WHAM* Victoria pounded her head on her desk, only half for theatrical effect. she reflected, staring at the thin film of chalk dust that covered everything in the room. she told herself. But then again, it had been that kind of day. Again. First, she'd awakened to find that her VCR had not only refused to record _Star_Trek:_Voyager_, but had also decided to eat the entire eight hour tape. "My X-Files," she'd moaned. "My Garfield and Friends. My Dinosaurs." Then, she'd arrived at work early to find that every IBM-compatible computer at A-B College had come down with the cascade virus, as well as boot-sector-eating screaming.monkey-something-or-other virus. She'd examined all her personal disks, and found that every one had been infected with both viruses. So, she'd spent her lunch hour disinfecting her disks. "All forty-six of them?" she'd asked the computer screen in disbelief. "Forty-six disks, and they're all sick? How long has this lab been infected anyway?" She'd sighed, unable to keep visions of extra-cheese thick-crust pizza out of her mind. "Well, maybe I'll get lunch _next_ week." "HOW CAN THEY NOT COME BACK FROM LUNCH?!" she'd snarled forty-five minutes later to an empty classroom. "I hate my students. I hate this job. I should've gone to med school. What was I thinking? 'Oh, I like to read. I'll get an MA in English and teach foreign students for a living.' Great idea, Vic." It was then that she'd realized that she'd forgotten to feed her Sea-Monkeys, the classroom pets. For a week. She performed a quick check--yep, all dead. Nothing but tiny shrimp corpses floating in chemically blue water. "Oh, MAAAAAN!" *WHAM* Tammy, the young woman who owned the Kid Care daycare center down the hall, poked her perky blonde face in the door. "They didn't come back again, huh?" Victoria lifted her aching head from the desk. "That obvious, is it?" She waved tiredly at the empty room. Tammy folded her arms and leaned against the door frame. "Y'know," she said indignantly, "you don't deserve this. Those kids have no respect for anybody. They woke the babies up on the way out to lunch, and now not one of the six bothered to come back to class." "It's cultural," Victoria answered automatically. "They don't share the Western concept of time as--" Then she stopped. "No. No more excuses. Not this time. This time, it's just rude." "They just don't know how good they've got it with you, y'know?" Tammy ticked off her points on her fingers. "You're here for six, eight, ten hours a day, planning stuff for them, taking them on field trips, having them make posters, writing grammar tutorials for 'em on the computer, doing vocabulary units on _Jurassic_Park_, teaching them songs--You oughtta show them what it's like without you. What they need is a taste of a real slave-driver. THAT would make 'em appreciate you in no time flat." Victoria sighed. "Yeah, well, at least I've got time to catch up on my e-mail. There's a--" She stopped, not knowing how to explain an electronic fiction war to an admitted computer-phobic. "--a lot of reading I've got to do." *** An hour later, Victoria sat up and rubbed her eyes. "This war thing is getting...interesting. It sure is a heck of a lot more interesting than my _real_ life right now...." She closed the lid on her computer and stared at the wall, thinking. With a lazy finger, she stirred the remains of a vending-machine-sized bag of salt and vinegar potato chips. "You know," she told the now-deceased Sea-Monkeys, "Natasha owes me a favor. She LOVES to torture students. She could take my classes on Monday and Tuesday...." She licked the potato chip dust from her fingers and brightened. "And the Dragon Lady--I mean, Mrs. Jones, from the foreign student office--she wants to take my students into the public schools next week anyway.... Ooh! Last year's kids _HATED_ that. Yeah, that'll work. I could just call my family from Toronto and pretend I'm in Philippi, teaching. Who'll know? I mean, they think I'm weird enough already," she confided to the now-vacant Micro Vue Ocean Zoo. "This'd just make them sure." Victoria clicked open the decrepit no-frills, no-color, not-even-a-hard-drive-but-it-sure-was-cheap-five-years-ago Panasonic laptop that she kept in the classroom, and begin to compose an e-mail message to Christine Hunt. ********************** To: Christine Hunt, c/o the Nick & Nat-packers From: Victoria E. Meredith (Vic) Dear Christine, You probably don't remember me, but I wrote you some time ago in response to your FKFIC story "The Bargain." (I loved it, in case you can't remember.) I'm still on the list; in fact, I've been following the FK war (inasmuch as ANBODY on digest can follow it). I realize that it's kind of late in the game to jump in, but I just can't sit it out any longer. I've been unaffiliated since I started reading the list in January, and I haven't posted much other than a few pieces of fiction and one or two inane "comment" posts on FORKNI-L. At heart, though, I'm an incurable romantic. You and the other N&N-packers strike me as the same kinds of people. Would you like some help in this matter? In other words, I guess I've finally taken leave of my senses, because as soon as I get off work, I'm driving nine hours from Elkins, West Virginia, to Toronto. I'll be staying at the Best Western Roehampton on the north side of town for the next week. As of Saturday, I'm at your disposal. A fellow schoolteacher and FK addict, --Victoria E. Meredith (Vic) ******************** Victoria hesitated over the "send" button. "Am I up to this?" she murmured aloud. "I mean, I'm naturally friendly--okay, I'm a doormat--and I hate upsetting people. And it's not like anybody sent me a skewered heart or anything, unless maybe it got lost in the mail. On the other hand, my life could use a little excitement. And desperate times call for desperate measures. If there's anything I know, it's that Nick and Nat _need_ each other. Even if they are fictional characters. _Especially_ if they're fictional characters." The little voice in the back of her mind shook its metaphoric head. Victoria ignored the voice. "Looking at rare hamburger makes me sick to my stomach--can I actually be near vampires for a week?" the voice insisted. "Of course, this _would_ be my big chance to find out once and for all if Natalie remembers Valentine's Day. And--" Her eyes glittered and she whimpered, remembering. "I could go back to the World's Biggest Bookstore. And Just Desserts. (Oh, God, the raspberry cheesecake.) And Pam's deli--" "Give it a rest." Irritation crept into Victoria's voice. "_You're_ the reason we never learned to fly a helicopter, never went bungee jumping, and never propositioned that cute P.A. student who works in the Learning Center. Let me have a little fun." The voice of reason wouldn't quit. "Oh, shut UP!" She pounded her temples with her fists. "You sound like my mother." An evil grin crept over Victoria's face. She stood and made her way to the cassette player in the front of the room, careful not to distract her Voice of Reason from its tirade. She stopped to listen for a moment. Yes, the Voice was still burbling, oblivious. Inserting the tape she'd borrowed from the day care center only that morning, she ever-so-softly pressed the button marked "play." The leader fed through the tape heads, and suddenly a familiar melody broke the silence. "Les...pois...SONS, les poisSONS, hee hee HEE, haw haw haw...." The Voice stopped in the middle of a sentence. Victoria nodded with satisfaction. "I'll have to thank those list people when I meet them. I don't know if I really agree with their philosophies, but what a good idea!" "...how I LOVE little fishies, don't yoooo?" The cassette player warbled merrily. Victoria could already feel the Voice beginning to retreat. The Voice shrieked for mercy even as it faded into a bad imitation of Maurice Chevalier. <...les...va...chon...oh...dang....> Victoria shivered with delight. "Ooh. Fantasy-1, Reality-zip. Eat _Little_Mermaid, Voice of Boredom." She pulled out her pocket mirror and flipped it open. Yep. Still there. She grinned at the tiny circle of reflective glass, and passed her tongue experimentally over her pointed upper teeth. "Only kid in the third grade with fangs," she whispered nostalgically. Okay, so she wasn't a vampire, but she had the teeth for it. All her life, she'd wondered why she'd been born with misshapen teeth. Then she'd found FK, and the fiction list, and it had all started to make sense. Hell, if fiction can't improve on reality, what good is it? "My destiny!" Victoria cried, leaping up onto her desk like a crazed mountain goat, and flinging her arms wide. "I have scented my destiny. And it smells like--(sniff) like--take-out from Little Caesar's? No, wait, that must be from the place down the hall. It smells like--Toronto!" In the doorway, Tammy backed away unnoticed. She hurried down the hall and grabbed her coworker Judy by the arm. "Jude, I always knew that job would drive her nuts. I just didn't think it would do it so suddenly." Judy nodded sagely. "Tell me about it." ### COMPUTERS ARE A MERC'S BEST FRIEND by Dianne la Mercenaire Place: CERK Dianne stood in the access tunnel underneath CERK, shifting the heavy bag on her shoulder and unable to _believe_ she was doing this. She'd *just* been broken out of here, for heaven's sake! , she reminded herself. Mind once again properly focused, she reached up and opened the grate... ...Eight flights of back steps later she really wished she'd come _down_ from the roof. she groused silently as she carefully opened the stairwell door. Her information had been solid: LaCroix and the Cousins nowhere in sight--the computer was all alone. Shutting the door behind her and moving swiftly to the machine, Dianne booted it up. It was heavy-duty password-protected, of course, but Dianne had her notebook of "interesting" historical information on LaCroix at the ready... She typed: F-L-U-F-F-Y The machine purred silently for a moment. [Welcome, Lucien!] she snickered, she thought as the screen opened. Brand new, top of the line...she didn't even want to know how much memory it had...all the bells and whistles...tons of expensive, probably largely unused programs...and AOL...(*AOL*???) She sneered quietly. , Dianne mocked in a very Internet-snobbish way as she opened the program... "*AMERICA ON-LINE. WELCOME!*" Dianne jumped two feet and swore under her breath as the digitized voice echoed loudly in the silence of the room. Calming herself (and giving the machine a *whack* on the side for good measure), she poked around...and started to smile. It would take extra time and wasn't in her contract, but she just _had_ to do it. She added a few extra lines to the start-up programming. Closing down the system briefly, she tested her new additions. She entered the password. The screen flashed to the image of a huge, bright, be-fanged smiley face, while her own voice echoed through the room from the large speakers in a sickly-sweet tone: "Hello, Lu!" , she remrimanded herself sternly (between giggles). Pulling the massive tape backup drive out of her bag and attaching it to the system, she found the files she wanted and began copying them. Seeing a nice version of "Hounds and Jackals," she took that too. *** Place: Nick's loft Creeping in silently and stealthily under cover of darkness.... It had such a nice ring to it, but--considering Nick and the Knighties [sounds like an old rock band, no? ;-] were currently elsewhere--Dianne elected to take a more direct approach. Unfortunately, Nick had upped his security since the last war and Dianne had to be a little creative. The loft might be well-protected, but the warehouse wasn't particularly. She picked the lock easily and wandered through crates and piles of old memorabilia. She ran her hand along the pommel of an old sword and let a pile of anique buttons sift through her fingers. Coughing and choking in the dust----she made for the connecting door. Just as she'd thought: a simple lock, easily picked, and she was in the loft. Stepping over the scattered laptops of the Fuzzy Faction(tm), she zeroed in on her goal: Nick's own private machine, safely locked away in his bedroom for the duration of the slumber party...uh..."War." She booted it up and hit the now-familiar password prompt... [Password? ] Nick could be, let's face it, awfully...um..."straightforward" at times, Dianne reasoned. This really shouldn't be too hard... "N-A-T-A-L-I-E" <*beep!*> ...o.k...so much for the romantic approach, how about the nostalgic... "J-A-N-E-T-T-E" <*beep!*> ...hmmmmm... "1-2-2-8" <*beep!*> ...literal, maybe?... "W-A-N-N-A-B-E-H-U-M-A-N" <*beep!*> A thought suddenly occured to her. <*&^%!> Dianne thought for a moment, really wishing she'd just gone ahead and paid her fellow Merc for use of the electronic password de-scrambler. She just hadn't thought it would be this hard. she told herself, visions of losing a major commission drifting distractingly through her head. A very wicked grin lit her face. "C-A-D-D-I-E" The machine whirred and Dianne let out a tiny little yelp of triumph. "Hi, Nick!" , Dianne grinned as she pulled out the tape-backup. It could handle 500 Meg... ...she was praying that would be enough for what she needed. ### ANOTHER DIEHARD GOES MISSING by Lana G. Soward Time: 5pm EST Place: Die-Hard Headquarters Jennifer and Lana walked into the bedroom to check on Dawn. They'd just returned from taking Tasha on his restroom walk. Besides, being with Dawn for three straight days was a bit much. Her imaginary conversations with Duncan MacLeod about that 'evil immie Wendy' was starting to get on their nerves. Ariel lay crumpled in the corner and Dawn was nowhere to be seen. Jennifer and Lana hurried over to Ariel, who was starting to come around. "Ariel, what happened? Where's Dawn?" asked Jennifer urgently. "Are you alright?" "I don't know. I don't know. No." moaned Ariel. Every part of her body ached. She felt like she'd been run over by a train. The 4:40 Dawn express bound for CERK to be exact. They eased her into a sitting position. She rested her head against the wall and told them what happened. **** Dawn had been mumbling more and more incoherently. Ariel eventually tuned her ramblings out, concentrating on the work she was doing on Lana's laptop. Suddenly Dawn stopped mumbling, stood up and announced, "I have to go." "Go where?" asked Ariel absently. Probably to see Duncan MacLeod again, she thought. "To join the Cousins," stated Dawn. "To join the *Cousins*," repeated Ariel, stunned. This was new. "Why?" "Because that is where my destiny lies," said Dawn. Ariel shook her head. This was *NOT* Dawn. She must have been replaced by someone else, during the party. She set aside the laptop and walked over to Dawn. "Why don't you sit down and wait until Lana gets back," said Ariel, as she tried to stall for time and keep Dawn from leaving. "I mean, if you're going to defect, you should at least tell your co-leader." "No," said Dawn. "This cannot wait. I have delayed far too long. I must leave *now*" "Dawn..." started Ariel. She laid a hand on Dawn's arm. That was a mistake. She didn't get a chance to say anything further, because Dawn jerked away and dealt Ariel a blow to the head, which quickly sent Ariel to the ground. "Join the Cousins," said Dawn. "Nothing will stop me." She moved quickly out the door, leaving behind an unconscious Ariel. *** "What do we do?" said Jennifer. "Nothing." Jennifer looked over at Lana, in surprise. "Nothing?" "Nothing," stated Lana firmly. "Dawn has been like this all week. So when and if the Cousin's take her in. They'll either assume she's a new convert and she'll drive crazy. Or they'll know she's crazy right off the bat. Either way with a little luck, they'll call us to come get her." "Shouldn't we call the police?" "We should," agreed Lana. "I don't know how much good it'll do. They haven't had much luck finding Nichole, yet. Although apparently, everyone else has seen her." She'd heard reports that she'd been seen at the CN Tower, the Happy Soulvaki Deli, even outside Nick's loft. But there had been no official word from the police. She hadn't heard from LaCroix, either. But then he may have been distracted by the fact that his little interlude with Sandra had been taped and copies were winging their way across the factions faster that you could say 'Nightcrawler'. Jennifer went to the phone to call the police, to inform them that a Dawn Steel was wandering around Toronto. "Join the Cousins," mused Lana out loud. "Where in the world did that come from?" ### PLOT TWISTS (Part 4b) by Wyndi and Diana Time: 6pm EST Place: FBI Headquarters. Mulder walked in through the doorway slowly, meeting the head of the FBI in charge of the Alfred case. Scully was a few steps behind, but spoke first. "Are you sure they're aliens?" She asked. "Yes." The director grimaced. "We got some bad information leading us to them, did the basic checkups, and look," he held out a folder to them. Mulder began to rifle through it, Scully looking over his shoulder. "I want you two to check out Alfred NY. See if there are any more of these aliens there, and report back to me. Try and find their ship, if you can. They live in Brick 316." The man handed them another folder. "Here are all the stats on the town." The folder was very thin. Scully nodded. "We're right on it." The two of them headed off. *** Place: A holding cell in FBI Headquarters. "bflee djcdsd fgbfs dfg bf tgfdfsdgjf g dkaaf?" "rdj rbgvfdkv dsszszszz fjgh twewsddf nnfdsf Alfred Mercs." "srjf bbjksd assld rjhvcm szdjfn Candilabra?" "fjs vnfjd fun frjrfvh slldkhf." The first alien nodded in agreement. Finally it tried out it's new language, "Parlez-vous francais?" it asked, very proud of itself. +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ Place: Vachon's church Wyndi got off of the phone confusedly. "Edie said that Risha was arrested." "WHAT?????" Di looked at Wyndi. "Arrested? Maybe that's why we haven't seen her for the last week and a half. Why was she arrested?" "Lots of charges. Edie didn't remember them all. She said that the FBI took her on a bunch of spurious charges, have admitted that the charges are false, but won't release her. In compensation, they told her that a number of the charges could be linked to Lane currently in Toronto Canada. Out of their jurisdiction." "Is that the Lane as in Merc Lane? The one trying to recruit us?" "Probably... maybe Candilabra hired him to try to get us back... or something." "I want to hear it from HIM." Diana said firmly. This would NOT be tolerated! "Lets go." The pair headed off to Merc Headquarters. The Vaqueros finally noticed Wyndi and Diana by their absence. "Weren't there two more of us a moment ago?" ### PAYING THE PIPER by Sharon Himmanen (and the NatPack) Time: Evening Place: Nick's loft They'd buzzed, like any good and polite visitors. MaryGT didn't like the fact that they'd taken quite a few minutes before the door buzzer sounded admitting them into the building. "They were a bit too reluctant to let us in," GT observed. "I have a bad feeling about this." "Well, what can you expect," Sharon said morosely. "We haven't exactly been forthright with everyone, now have we?" "They wouldn't have listened to us if we'd been direct, you know that." "The Ravenettes and the Cousins might not have, but the Knighties probably would have." Sharon paused, realizing what she'd just said, and shrugged at GT's astonished look. "Lets just hope it's not too late to fix it." The elevator door slid aside, and the two NatPackers were greeted by a ring of Knighties, the expressions on their faces quite dubious. They all stood like that, no one moving, glaring at them, and Sharon felt decidely uncomfortable at the outright hostility. The tension in the room was palpable. Until a male voice, from somewhere back in the room sounded softly. "Let them in," Nick said. As if on cue the Knighties slowly parted, allowing Sharon and GT to move forward, into the loft. Sharon noted that most of their handiwork from what seemed like so long ago had been cleaned up. "Where's Natalie?" Nick asked, and his voice was low and dangerous. "We don't know," GT said evenly. Nick's eyes narrowed. "I don't believe you," he said. At that, Nick moved and began to circle them. The gathered Knighties stood back, giving him room, and waited. "Why don't we see where we stand." He moved behind them but Sharon resisted the urge to turn to face him. "You attacked all these people, you ransacked my loft, you . . . painted my Caddie pink." Nick paused at that, his voice getting slightly rough with emotion. "You stole from me." He moved to stand in front of them again, but only for a moment, before he was moving again, restlessly. Sharon had to admit she felt like the was being stalked. "And I can only assume that Natalie was a willing party. Give me one good reason why we should listen to you?" "A very good reason," Sharon countered. She dared to turn her head to look at him, and tried to keep herself from glaring at the circling behavior and not quite succeeding. She suddenly understood why he did it. It was damned unnerving. "You know it would have to be, for Natalie to have been a party to this. But," she paused, looking down on the floor, "she didn't like it. *We* convinced her, so you should blame us, not her." He stopped behind them, and Sharon felt a cool hand on her shoulder. The touch was light, but there was a menace to it. "So now you have a story to tell," he all but whispered. "But there's only one story I'm interested in right now, and it's called The Truth." He gave her a small shake to emphasize his words. "And I trust that's exactly what we're going to hear right now," he continued, "because I'm in no mood for fiction." Sharon drew a deep breath, and with one last look at GT, she started talking. "Right," she said, nodding, relieved that he was at least willing to listen. "A couple of weeks ago Natalie was approached by several men. Dark suits, dark glasses. They came to the morgue one night when it was pretty deserted." "Enforcers?" Nick asked, almost fearfully, his voice clipped and hard. GT shook her head. "Natalie said they were mortals. She can always tell, you know." Nick nodded. "Go on. What did these men want?" "They wanted to know about any suspicious deaths she might have run into over the last couple of years," Sharon said, looking up at Nick. "Exsanguination, strange wounds. That sort of thing. Nat said they weren't exactly being subtle about what they were really interested in." "But neither did they come right out and say it, either," GT added. Sharon nodded, glancing back over at GT. Nick shook his head. "I don't believe you," he said. "She would have told me about something like this." He glared directly at them. Sharon stared back at him, looking him right in the eyes. "She tried," she said finally. "But she said you wouldn't listen. Nat didn't go into a lot of the details, but she said you'd been awfully preoccupied." At that, Nick looked away, guiltily, running a hand quickly through his hair. A slight murmur rose among the Knighties. "Anyway," Sharon continued, raising her voice slightly to be hard above the small din. "Anyway, they didn't press, although she said they came back about a day later and wanted to go through her files. She managed to put them off." "At about the same time," GT said, picking up the story, "Leslie, Jill Kirby, Sharon, and Amparo Bertram were all also approached by similar looking men and asked a lot of questions." "Questions? Like what?" "Like, did I know anyone with strange allergies to the sun, or someone whom I'd never seen eat, or seen out in the sun. Things like that," Sharon replied. "We think they're hunters." "Other members of the NatPack were followed on several occasions. We notified Natalie. *That's* when she decided to get us all up here, reasoning that we'd all be safe if we were all in one place where we could watch each other's back." "We tried to play it like she didn't know anything," GT added. "In case anyone else was listening in." "So, you staged all those pranks," Nick said finally, a small note of disgust creeping into his voice. "Yeah. Nick, you have to believe us. Our only intention was to get everyone up here, and get them to pay attention to what was going on around them. That's why we also sent out the calling cards. We figured everyone would see for themselves and we could get the situation under control." "And instead, everything got really out of hand," Nick said sarcastically. "We know," Sharon said, looking down at the floor again. "Believe me, we know," she added, thinking about the effects the drug had had on her friends. "That was our mistake. We underestminated people's capacity for chaos. The Cousins didn't care *why* they'd been attacked. All they cared about was getting even. The Ravenettes only cared about getting the Raven back. The Mercs just want to make money. And most of the other groups just ended up playing the retaliation game." Sharon paused and looked around at the group. "We screwed up." "And Natalie?" Nick asked. "Is *really* missing," Sharon said, and there was no mistaking the worry in her tone. "As near as we can figure, she's been gone since very early Thursday morning." When Nick continued to look doubtful, Sharon finally lost patience. "Come on!" she exclaimed. "Would we . . . would *she* worry you like that? Would she not come to visit her friends in the hospital? Would we *drug* ourselves with a dangerous LSD derivative, just to prove a point? We're telling you the truth here. We need your help!" Nick glanced over at Perri who slowly nodded. Nick looked back at Sharon and GT. "I can't speak for everyone here," Nick said. "But I believe you. Natalie wouldn't be a party to a scheme that would needlessly worry me. But," he said, glancing around at the Knighties, some of whom were clearly skeptical. "We'll discuss what you've told us. Go back to Nat's. We'll call you." Sharon and GT exchanged quick glances. "Thank you," Sharon said sincerely, realizing that under the circumstances this was better than could be expected. Nick believed them, which meant that it was only a matter of time before the Knighties were with them as well. That would increase their numbers substantially. "Thanks," she said, and gave Nick a genuine smile of relief. "We'll be waitaiting." They were almost out the door, when Nick cleared his throat. Sharon turned, a knot settling in the pit of her stomach. "About the de Brabant Foundation funds that you stole," he said, emphasizing the last word. "You do realize I could have you all arrested." Sharon and GT silently nodded. Glancing over at GT, Sharon looked back at Nick. "We'll pay it back. It'll take--" Nick cut her off sharply. "Not to mention the very personal reasons I have for having that account set up the way it is." "We know, which is why we didnidn't touch the account proper," GT said. It was a lame excuse and they all knew it. Nick mulled that over for a moment, then seemed to reach some decision. "The Porphyria Foundation is very grateful for the generous donation," he said finally. "It seems they get very little media attention that translates into financial support. An anonymous patron with deep pockets will do a lot for them. Thank you for brinnging it to my attention." Sharon stared back at Nick, feeling more guilty at that moment than she could ever remember feeling in her entire life, which warred with a sudden flare of resentment over the fact that he was being so nice about this. She looked away, clearing her throat, knowing that she at least owed him a big one and pissed that that little smirk on his face could only mean that he knew it too. "Now go on," Nick said. "You'll hear from us." With that, the elevator door slid shut and started descending to the street. ### IN FROM THE COLD by Diane Echelbarger Time: 7:30pm EST Place: Toronto After dinner at the Thai restaurant on Queen Street, Diane wrapped up well and decided to take a quick walk through Kew Park before going to bed. As she walked, her breath plumed thick before her in the frosty air, and the cold bit even through her thick jacket and mitten-and-glove covered hands. She was on her way back to the B&B when she spotted a familiar figure, sitting on a swing and muttering to herself. "Dawn?" she called, wondering what the Chief DieHard was thinking of, sitting still in such bone-chilling cold. "Is that you?" The other woman didn't reply, just continued swinging gently and mumbling too softly for Diane to make out the words. She moved closer and bits began to come clear. "Feathers-- forget the feathers--- " Dawn was staring straight ahead, an odd, blank look on her face. "Dawn?" "J-j-j-join the C-c-c-cousins...." Dawn muttered through chattering teeth as she rocked on the swing. "Dawn? Are you okay?" Diane shook the shivering woman, but her only response was another mutter. "Q- Q-Tips... t-tell ab-bout the Q-Tips..." Diane gave up trying to get through to her friend and settled for getting her to her feet. Supporting the shivering figure with one arm, she coaxed, prodded, and shoved the woman through the park and up Waverly to her lodgings. When she let go of Dawn to unlock the front door, the DieHard leaned against the porch-post and stared across the porch. "D-d-d-dun..." she mumbled. "That's right," Diane agreed, reassured by the idea that Dawn had finally recognized her. "It's Diane. Come on, let's get you inside and thawed out." It wasn't easy getting the incoherent DieHard up the two flights to her room, but Diane managed it. Fortunately, Lorelei and Vicki were still at the Raven, so Diane coaxed her shivering charge into her bedroom. She pushed Dawn-- who was still muttering-- into a chair and left a note on her and Lorelei's bedroom door, asking that her roomie bunk with the Merc for tonight. Somehow, she didn't want the Merc and the Raven to know that Dawn was there, and in such obviously bad shape. Ten minutes later, she had divested the shaking DieHard of coat, hat, mittens, shoes and jeans, and tucked her under the thick down comforter on the queen sized bed. Dawn lay there, muttering, mumbling and twitching, while Diane hung both their coats up and traded her chilly boots for warm slippers. By the time Diane had made herself a cup of tea, the DieHard's ears had turned from icy-pale to much-too-pink-- which meant that, contrary to Diane's worst fears, she *wasn't* frostbitten. But she was still disoriented and shivering. Diane sniffed. No odor of alcohol, so Dawn wasn't drunk. And her muttering was familiar, somehow. Not the words, but the *way* she said things.... Now she thought about it, it was *very* odd that Dawn would be wandering around Toronto, after dark, alone. Where were the other DieHards? Why had she just been *sitting* there, in the cold? Should she call DieHard Central, and tell them Dawn was here? Or was this part of some DieHard plot she could mess up if she did the wrong thing? Diane decided to keep an eye on her friend and wait a little longer. Maybe, when Dawn finished warming up, she'd be able to answer a few questions.... ------------------- When she heard someone on the stairs, much later, Diane turned off the light, locked the doors to the sitting room and bathroom, and pretended to be asleep. Whoever it was tried the door, then left her alone. Dawn was still incoherent, mumbling about swords, feathers, Q-tips and-- gold mesh underwear?-- at 3am. Diane decided she needed to do something. Dawn was warmed up, and half-asleep, but still muttering nonsense. She needed to either call DieHard Central, or call a doctor-- but the only doctor she knew of in Toronto was Natalie. If it was true that the NatPack had started the War, turning Dawn over to them was *not* a good idea. But Dawn definitely needed help, and Diane honestly couldn't picture Natalie *not* helping someone who needed it, unless.... Making her decision, Diane picked up the bedside phone and dialed.... ### PLOT TWISTS (Part 5) by Wyndi and Diana Time: 8:30pm EST Place: Merc Headquarters. The last remnants of police force were cleaning up. Yellow ribbon was hanging all over the place. Diana and Wyndi looked around themselves in confusion. A police officer approached them. "Excuse me, Miss', but this is a crime scene. You will have to move off." Wyndi pasted on her best "I have no brain 'cause I'm a blond" look, and asked breathily, "Oh, really officer? What happened here? I don't understand." She looked up at him pleadingly, begging for his guidance to save her from the stormy murk of confusion. (It works, too) "That's all right, Miss," he said, softening. "There were some arrests here tonight, on drug charges." He thoughtlessly mentioned the name of the precinct they were take too. "Now, why don't you two move along." He smiles warmly at Wyndi. Wyndi smiled a "You're my hero" smile, and said, still breathily, "Oh, thank you so much, officer." The two wandered off in the general direction of the precinct. *** Time: 9pm EST Place: A holding cell "Tsk tsk tsk, Lane. Whatever shall we do with you?" Wyndi asked, conversationally. She smiled toothily at him. "We had gone to the Merc Headquarters to speak with you about joining, but we're not so sure anymore," Diana continued, "if these were the perks you were refering too... we'd prefer to pass." Any complaint Lane was about to visit on their ears went unsaid as a guard opened the door to the cell. "Is there a Lane in here?" Dead silence. "Someone has posted your bail." Lane barely managed to get out of the door ahead of all of the other Mercs cramed into the tiny holding cell. "Who bailed me out?" he asked. The guard pointed to Diana and Wyndi. The two of them waved. "Lets get going, shall we, Lane dahling?" Wyndi asked, taking one of his arms, her other hand carefully concealed under her cloak. Diana moved to his other side and the walked out of the precinct. "Credit cards are so wonderful," Wyndicontinued conversationally as the went down the steps befor ehte police station. As there were no cops arond, and Lane was beginning to show signs of gathering for an escape, she quickly put the dog chocker around his neck andmoved to stand behind him, holding the leash attatched tightly. "We wouldn't want you to leave so soon, m'luv," Wyndi said as soon as the chain was in place. "That would be a great disapointment." Diana opened the back door of the car and Wyndi pushed Lane in. As he continued forward, trying to twist off the collar and get out the other door, Diana held a white cloth in front of his nose and mouth. One inhalation of ether and he was out. Diana sighed in relief. Good thing she had the ether for Fruit fly experiments back in Alfred... Wyndi pushed him farther into the car. "D*mn he's heavy! I wish Risha was here," she said, exasperated. Di put the car in gear and pulled out into traffic while Wyndi pulled out her bag of tricks. The shackels were going to come in handy again. //i wonder how He knew i would need them so much...\\ ### PLOT TWISTS (Part 6)/ DAZED AND CONFUSED (Part 4) MEGA CROSSOVER! (a) by the Alfred Mercs Time: 11pm EST Place: A stone chamber below Vachon's church Wyndi was glad she had had time to explore all of the twists and turns of Vachon's "backdoor," as well as time to bolt four leather restraints into the stone floor. She looked down at the figure spreadeagled on the floor, hoping he wouldn't be too cold. Ah, well... She picked up the pile of his clothing and belongings athat she and Diana had loveingly stripped off of him, replacing his clothing with a one-piece catsuit; impossible to hide anything in one of those things. She double-checked that the retraints were tight enough to hold him, but not tight enough to cut off circulation, and went up the stairs, singing, "When you're there, I sleep lengthwise, and when you're gone, I sleep diagonal in my bed." Tomorrow she and Diana would go SHOPPING! ### ***Saturday, November 11, 1995*** DIE-HARD ONE FOUND by Lana G. Soward Time: 3am EST Place: Die-Hard Headquarters Lana reached out and snagged the phone up on the first ring. They had been waiting for hours to hear some word on Dawn. That she'd arrived at the Cousin's place and was driving them crazy. Finally, most of the other Die-Hards had given up and gone to sleep, but Jane and Lana continued to sit and wait by the phone. "Hello? Oh. Hi Diane." "*YOU* found her?" Lana's voice rose sharply. "Where? What was she doing there?" "Who is it?" asked Jane sitting up. Lana waved at her to be quiet. "Do you want us to pick her up in the morning? Now? Wheelchairs with feathers? Okay we're on our way. Yeah, we're leaving now." "Who was it?" burst Jane, after Lana had hung up the phone. "It was Diane E." said Lana, as she bounded from the bed. "She found Dawn on a swing in Kew Park. She wants us to come pick her up. *Now*. Apparently, Dawn's been mumbling about wheelchairs and feather Q-Tips all night." "Well then let's go get her." said Jane. "One down and one to go." ### LACROIX GETS A NICHOLE by Lana G. Soward Time: 3am EST Place: LaCroix's residence LaCroix returned to his home ready to retire. He had made sure that all the Cousins would be out performing various tasks and errands, so he could have some peace and quiet. His place would not be a waystation for errant cousins the next war. He was definitely not Nicholas, content to have dozens of faction members wandering around, going though his things. LaCroix walked into his study and saw that Cousins Cori and Janice had finally reappeared. He had not seen them since Wednesday when he had given them their assignment to find the missing Die-Hard Nichole. "Well?" he said, in a tone that said failure was not a forgivable option. They pointed to a couch over in the corner. Wrapped in a long cloak was the missing Die-Hard. She was sound asleep with her hands tucked under her head. LaCroix regarded the sleeping figure for a moment. He considered calling the Die-Hards and having them come and collect their errant faction member. He decide against it. He would deliver Nichole *personally*. He was slightly curious as to what had been going on with Dawn Steel since that episode at Eaton Centre. There had been no information forthcoming from Die-Hard headquarters, indeed, from any Die-Hard, since that incident. Visiting the Die-Hard Headquarters would also give him a chance to remind that other Die-Hard exactly how much she *was* in his debt by this little favor. Quickly, he picked her up and strode from the room. Cori looked at Janice. "He didn't even want to know where we found her," she said. Janice shook her head. "Doesn't surprise me," she said sagely. "We delivered her to him, that's all that matters. Besides, I'm not going to tell him we found her outside sitting on his doorstep, are you?" ### DIE-HARD TWO FOUND by Lana G. Soward Time: 3:20am EST Place: Die-Hard Headquarters Jane and Lana manhandled Dawn through the entrace of headquarters. She wasn't resisting as much as she had been earlier. Now she was just dead weight in their arms. They stopped short, when they saw LaCroix standing casually by the sofa. As if he had a perfect right to be there. He made a small gesture toward the sofa, as if presenting them with a gift. Nichole lay there still wrapped in her cloak. "I have returned your lost property," said LaCroix. The sound of his voice, penetrated Dawn's brain and then she flashbacked to a time almost two weeks earlier. <> <> <> <> <> "YES!" shouted Dawn. LaCroix, Jane and Lana stared at her in surprise. They were so surprised, that they weren't prepared for what she did next. Jane and Lana were secretly expecting it, though. Dawn tore herself away from their grasp and launched herself at LaCroix. Even with his supernatural speed, he was unprepared for a Die-Hard Dawn missile. She attached herself to him the same way she'd attached herself to Nick. Like a leech. "Oh no. Not again," said Jane and Lana simultaneously. Lana went to her room to get her camera and Jane pulled out her sunglasses. "Oh Lu," Dawn cooed. "You can tickle me with your feather anytime." LaCroix stopped his efforts to remove her from him and stared at her in surprise. Tickle her with his feather? Where did that come from? "Get her off of me," LaCroix finally roared, goaded beyond endurance, when Dawn tried to nuzzle his neck, murmuring "Take me with you, Lu. Please take me with you." Heads popped out of various doors as the Die-Hard's responded to the cry for help. When they say what was occurring, they disappeared again. Encounters with Samuari Dawn the past few days, left very few willing to encounter her again. At this point, their fear of Dawn *far* outstripped their willingness to help someone in need. Lana reappeared with her camera. LaCroix saw what she was going to do and shut his eyes, just before she activated the flash. He could feel the brightness of the flash through his skin and behind his eyelids. Once again, it was successful. Dawn fell away from LaCroix, and started moaning about being blind. LaCroix took a deep breath and straightened his rumpled clothing. "I've returned your missing companion," he said with dignity, as he ignored the sobbing figure, who was at that very moment trying to cling to his feet, despite Jane's efforts to pry her loose. "You *owe* me." "We could always leave her there," said Lana flippantly, gesturing toward Dawn. LaCroix's eyes turned gold. He looked down at Dawn and started to growl. Jane say LaCroix's eyes and with a last burst of strength she pulled Dawn away from LaCroix. "You *owe* me," hissed LaCroix, his eyes still gold. Lana looked at him. She'd pushed her luck far enough, she thought. This was giving her another headache. She had enough problems, so she definitely didn't need LaCroix breathing down her neck. She reached into the inner pocket of her jacket and removed a 3.5" diskette. She flipped it toward LaCroix, who deftly caught it. "The only copy," she said. "My word on it." LaCroix gazed at her trying to determine, exactly how much her word was worth. He then looked at Dawn who was making a concerted effort to get away from Jane and crawl back toward LaCroix. He took an involuntary step back as he saw Dawn begin to crawl toward him. Finally, using his supernatural speed, he moved toward the door, leaving Dawn grasping at empty air. The events of the past few weeks were starting to wear him down, he admitted to himself. He would have torn the throat out of anyone else who dared suggest that to him, though. At the next inkling of a war, he was going to shut down CERK and go to Paris, until it was over. Even an ocean away wouldn't be far enough. He slammed the door shut behind him as Dawn's last words, echoed behind him. "Lu. Lu. Take me with you." ### PERKULATORS NOT PERCULATORS by Sharon Himmanen and PartlyK Time: Morning Place: A coffee shop Sharon ducked into the almost deserted coffee shop and spotted Tracy and Partly seated in the corner, holding an animated discussion over two steaming cups. She approached the table cautiously, then cleared her throat when she was a few feet away. "Sharon," Tracy said brightly, tucking a strand of blond hair back behind one ear. "Hi! How are your friends doing?" "They're fine," Sharon said, looking intently at the cups. "Would you care to join us?" Partly asked. "Uh, sure," Sharon said. "Are these . . ." she asked almost forlonrly, indicating the mugs of dark liquid. "Unfortunately no," Tracy said solemnly. "It's tea. Would you like some?" Sharon made a face. God, what she wouldn't give for a fresh, hot cup of coffee right at the moment. Pulling her attention away from that, she focused on the task at hand. "I 'm glad I found you. I need to talk to you." She paused and glanced over at Partly. "Both of you." ***** Sharon related nearly everything she'd told the Knighties to the two women, answering questions whenever Tracy asked yet careful to make certain she didn't reveal too much about what Nick was or the exact reason why Natalie might be of interest to these men. "Well, why didn't Nick put an APB out on Nat?" Tracy asked in exasperation. She'd been barely phased at Sharon's confession that she'd been the one to rig Tracy's computer to say "I'm a *good* cop," a weeks ago. In fact, Sharon was somewhat amazed at the other womans aplomb as she watched her mind focus on the problem at hand. "I think he wants to take care of this himself," Sharon cautioned. "I think the situation is fairly delicate." "Espionage?" Tracy asked, almost hopefully. "Interpol, CIA, that sort of thing? Now why would they be interested in Natalie?" "Could it be because Nat's the coroner?" Partly asked. "And maybe she saw something she shouldn't have," Tracy added, suddenly growing excited. "A very suspicious death, someone who wasn't what everyone thought he or she was. It would make sense, given that they were asking her all those questions about suspicious deaths." She rose. "Come on, Partly. We've got work to do." As the two women moved away, Sharon tried to protest, realizing they'd gone off on a wild, yet given what she'd told them, completely reasonable tangent. But they'd dropped a few dollars on to the table and exited before Sharon couloulould really get a word in edgewise, and she finally gave up. "Oh boy," she said. Why is it, she thought, things kept going from bad to worse here. Suddenly Partly was back by her side. "Listen, Sharon. These people wouldn't have anything to do with... well, you know..." Partly looked around. "The fact that Nick and Vachon are..." "Vampires?" Sharon filled in. Partly nodded. Sharon nodded. "I'm wasn't sure how much she knew, but yes, this probably has something to do with vampire. Or rather, vampire *hunters* I should say." She quickly filed Partly in on the men who had approached Natalie and members of the NatPack and the leading questions about vampires they'd asked, and how they'd all been followed on several occasions. Suddenly Tracy stuck her head back in the door letting a blast of cold air sweep through the small shop. "Partly, let's go." Sharon watched them go, shivering at the cold and not sure if things were any better than when she first came in. Now was not the best time to be cold and worried. Especially when there wasn't a decent cup of coffee to be had in the entire city of Toronto. ### THEY'RE GOING TO TAKE HER AWAY... by Jane Snyder Time: 6am EST Place: DieHard Headquarters It had taken Lana and Jane almost an hour to calm Dawn down after LaCroix fled. Finally, Jane had called a pharmacist she knew at a nearby twenty-four hour drugstore, and obtained a couple of sleeping pills. She dissolved one in a cup of tea, and forced Dawn to drink it. Finally, Dawn slept. Sheets twisted around her, oversize t-shirt hiked up under her arms. She mumbled incessantly, and no matter how hard they tried, Lana and Jane could not understand most of what she was saying. A few words here and there -- feather, uncle, tickles, vampire, MacLeod, sword. Every so often, Dawn's body would twitch and contort, high-pitched hysterical laughter would spill from her lips. It was nerve-wracking. No wonder Diane didn't want her around. It was impossible to sleep. "Acccckkk....g-g-gold..mersheffl...q-tups..mmphhiil" "We have to do something." Jane pitched her voice low so as not to wake Dawn up. She was slumped in a chair, with her feet up on the bed. Black circles ringed her eyes. "She's been getting worse and worse ever since the party." Lana yawned widely and nodded her head. "We can't do this ourselves though. We need help." Her eyes narrowed as Dawn convulsed again. "If I *ever* get my hands on the ones who did this to her..." "Even if one was willing, we can't ask any of the vampires to help. Every time Dawn gets near one she becomes an unbearable groupie. They're so repulsed, they can't concentrate long enough to whammy her." Jane took off her glasses and rubbed her eyes. "We could ask Natalie," said Lana slowly. "Maybe not. Dawn would probably start trying to give her advice on Nick. AND start asking her where she got those ideas in her journal." "Now that would be interesting." Jane smiled briefly. "But I don't think it would encourage Nat to help her." "I'm sure it was the cousins and LaCroix. But the only way we're going to be able to prove it is if we can bring Dawn out of this." "mmlphi...Duncan..arshff...please...now.....oohh... yeeasshh." Jane stood up and walked over to the dresser. "I have an idea. It's not guaranteed, but I don't know what else we could do." She fiddled with a couple of Dawn's things. "What? Anything's better than just sitting here and listening to this." Concern etched over her features, Lana reached out and smoothed Dawn's hair. "Well...there's this psychiatrist I've heard of. One of our clients goes to him. Dr. Wetmore. He works out of the Queen Street Mental Health Centre, which isn't too far from here." Jane smothered a yawn. "He specializes in hypno-therapy. And since he's not involved in the war at all, we should be able to trust him not to try to alter Dawn's memories." Lana frowned and stared at Dawn pensively for a few moments. "Sure...why not. We can take her there when she wakes up. After all, we've got nothing to lose. And maybe we'll be able to get some sleep." "Ooooh....esseynts...no more...cwesphes...tickles." Dawn began gibbering with laughter, thrashing around on the bed. Lana and Jane grabbed Dawn, one on each side, holding her down, making sure she didn't hurt herself. ****************************** Time: 10am EST Jane hung up the phone and turned to Lana, "We're in luck. Dr. Wetmore is working today and he's willing to see Dawn at 10:30." "Great. C'mon Dawn, we've got to go." Dawn was sitting cross-legged on the sofa, watching X-men. She didn't even turn her head to speak to Lana, "Why don't you guys just go without me. Duncan's supposed to pick me up in half an hour." "Dawn...you *have* to come with us." Lana's voice softened, "Please?" "No. I don't wanna miss Duncan." Jennifer turned around from her computer console and met Jane's eyes. She shook her head in sympathy. Jane smiled sadly and then her eyes widened. "But Dawn, we're going to meet Duncan. He called this morning while you were sleeping and said something had come up - - he wouldn't be able to get here, so you'd have to meet him." "I'll get my coat." Dawn sprang from the sofa and headed toward her bedroom. At the same time, Wendy stumbled into the room, her eyes still bleary. As she passed Wendy, she snarled, "You'll never beat Duncan. He'll take your head. You'll regret ever coming to Toronto." "I'm regretting it right now." Wendy rubbed her eyes and sighed, "I thought we'd gotten that out of her system." "You've got no-one to blame but yourself. Wearing a black trenchcoat and sword in front of her. It's hardly surprising that Dawn thinks you're the evil immie of the week." Jane shrugged on her winter jacket. It was still snowing outside. "Let's go." Lana herded Jane and Dawn out the door. "Hold down the fort guys. Hopefully we won't be gone all day. I've got my cellular phone, in case, there are any problems." *** Time: 10:30am EST Place: Queen Street Mental Health Centre The waiting room was about half full when Lana, Jane and Dawn entered. Five people were scattered among the chairs. Four sat quietly, reading books or ancient magazines picked up from the tables. The fifth, a middle-aged woman with grey streaks in her red hair, was turned sideways, talking in hushed tones to the person sitting next to her -- well, that's what Jane assumed she would have been doing if there was someone there. "Can I help you?" The receptionist paused in the middle of painting her nails vamp-black. "S..sure." Jane cleared her throat nervously. "We're here to see Dr. Wetmore. Umm..that is, Dawn Steele is here to see him. We're just keeping her company." "Of course you are. Do you have her health card?" "She's from the Maritimes. I have her provincial health insurance card. Will that do?" "Sure. That's fine." The receptionist sighed loudly as she wrote down the number, thinking of all the extra forms she would have to fill out. Carefully manipulating the phone, the receptionist pushed some buttons. "Dawn Steele is here for her appointment with a couple of friends. Okay, I'll tell them." To Jane's amazement, she was able to do all without smudging her wet nail polish. "Take a seat please. Dr. Wetmore will be with you in a couple of minutes." "Thanks." Jane walked over and sat down on the other side of Dawn. "Where's Duncan?" Dawn looked at Jane accusingly, "You said we were going to meet him." "He'll be along soon." Lana's voice was soothing. Dawn crossed her arms over her stomach and began to rock backwards and forwards. She mumbled, "No more...no more feathers...I won't tell...Duncan said not to...promised." Lana and Jane exchanged worried glances over Dawn's head. "Ms. Steele, the doctor will see you now. This way." Ignoring the envious glances from the other waiting patients, Jane and Lana each took one of Dawn's arms and pulled her up. They went into the doctor's office. The receptionist closed the door behind them. "Oh no!" A horrified look crossed Jane's face as she saw Dr. Wetmore. Medium height, his broad-shoulders emphasized by a chambray shirt, short dark hair brushed back from his face, curling lightly at the ends. Other than the eyes, he bore an extraordinary resemblance to Duncan MacLeod. Dr. Wetmore leaned back in his chair. "Is something wrong?" Jane shook her head, unable to think of anything to say. Lana looked up curiously and let go of Dawn in shock. "Sh*t." "Duncan." Dawn squealed, and scuttled around the desk. "I was beginning to think you didn't love me any more." She jumped into Dr. Wetmore's lap and flung her arms around his neck, plastering his face with kisses. "Miss....er...miss..umph." Dawn latched onto his mouth as soon he opened it. One of her hands began running up and down his chest. Jane and Lana sunk into two of the chairs on the other side of the desk. Lana groaned and covered her face. Gasping for breath, Dr. Wetmore managed to get out a couple of words, "My name's not Duncan." "Ohhh sweetheart, did you have to give up your life in Seacouver? What name are you using now?" "Seacouver? Where....." Utterly confused, Dr. Wetmore tried to pry Dawn off him. "My name is Adrian...Adrian Wetmore." "Adrian?" Dawn giggled, "You used the actor's name. What a wonderful idea." She sat back and leaned against the desk. "By the way, we've got Kelley trapped at headquarters." "Kelley?" "You know." Dawn chided him, "The evil immie of the week. All you have to do is get her sword and we can go get her." "My...my sword?" "Well how else are you going to cut off her head." Dawn blew lightly in his ear, "Can I watch? I've always wanted to see you get someone's quickening." "Cut off her head?" Dr. Wetmore was appalled. He grabbed Dawn's arms and pulled her off, shoving her away. Lana drew her back into the remaining chair. Dawn collapsed into the chair and began hugging herself and rocking again. Tears streamed down her face. "That was uncalled for." Lana was indignant. "Look what you've done to her. Do you treat all your delusional patients this way." Dr. Wetmore straightened his shirt and ran one hand through his hair. "I'm sorry, but she took me by surprise." "Can you help her?" Jane asked quietly. "Can you undo what has been done to her?" "Why don't you start at the beginning and tell me everything you know about her problem." Jane and Lana both began speaking at the same time. "It all started at the party....." "She was fine when the party...." "Go ahead." Jane looked at Lana, "You know her better than me." Lana took a deep breath and started to tell Dr. Wetmore the tale of the last few days. Jane sat back and listened, adding comments occasionally when she thought Lana missed out something important. Dawn continued to rock backwards and forwards, occasionally twitching and convulsing, mumbling and laughing the whole time. ### N&NPACK PLAN U (U IS FOR UNCLE) by Christine Hunt Time: Late morning Place: Toronto The Immoral Beloveds had been taken care of. Cindy and Paula had delivered their little "presents" to the IB Suite, and while no retribution had been taken, Christine was sure it was at hand. But that didn't concern her now. There were more important things to deal with. "We have to get Nick and Nat together," she told the group assembled before her. They were all there now. Erika, who had been released from captivity; Paula and Cindy, who had carried out her great plot against Ari; Lisa, who was anxious to use the illegal drug she'd smuggled across the border; Maryann and Judy, who'd come in from Florida; Mary Margaret, who was finding it harder and harder to keep Worf hidden from the hotel staff; Marie Seville; and Victoria Meredith, the recent arrival who was just itching to get a good strike against the IB. The only one missing was their Merc friend Dianne, who was resting after her recent kidnapping, and awaiting the execution of their plan. They'd assembled to hear what their next move would be. "What about the IB?" Victoria asked impatiently. "I really want to get them pissed off." "Then you can be in charge of coming up with a new plan against them if you like," Christine told her. "But as I said, getting Nick&Nat together is our main goal. Now--what's standing in our way?" she asked as a prelude to her plan. "Nick's brickishness," Erika piped up, although she elicited a look of disdain from her fellow Knightie Judy. At Christine's nod of assent, she continued, "It's okay. I'm gonna have a talk with him, and try to make him realize the importance of communication." "He does seem to have a problem with that," Judy had to admit. "Yeah, but LaCroix's the real problem," Lisa said bitterly. "After what he did to Natalie on Valentine's Day..." "Nick's been afraid to be close to her," Maryann mused. "Exactly," Christine said. "But after tonight night, he won't be a problem anymore." Marie looked at her suspiciously. "What do you have in mind?" "Remember what he did to Nat at Azure? Well, he's gonna have a taste of his own medicine--" Christine began. "Not to mention some of mine," Lisa added with a grin. The others looked on in rapt excitement as Christine outlined the plan. "That's brilliant!" Judy said. "Well, you and Maryann have a job to do," Erika told her. She handed them a piece of paper. "I'll be with Christine and Lisa. When I call you, you've got to get Nick to come to this address." "Will do," Maryann promised. "It's about time we had some action in this war," Mary Margaret said enthusiastically. "Oh, there'll be plenty," Christine assured her. She went to the refrigerator, pullling out two bottles of champagne. She handed one to Lisa, who'd already grabbed a cork screw. "This is for us, to toast our revenge on LaCroix." She raised the other one into the air. "And this one, is for Uncle himself. Just as potent as the stuff he gave Nat." She sighed. "Maybe even more so." Cindy and Paula had poured the champagne, and they all raised their glasses in a toast. "To revenge!" Lisa proclaimed. "To love," Judy said. Christine nodded. "To Nick and Natalie." That's what it was all about, wasn't it? ### THE GAME OF KINGS by Erika S. Hanson Time: Late morning Place: Nick's Loft Things were back to normal at the loft--well, semi-normal anyway. It seemed that all the Knighties present had gone through all three seasons' episodes at least twice, and the 'blood' was flowing freely. Erika excused herself during the umpteenth showing of Crazy Love and wandered into the kitchen to get more popcorn. On her way, she noticed that their host had (wisely) decided to stay out of the festivities and was ensconced in a corner staring morosely at a chessboard. Concerned, she veered in that direction. "Hey, what's up?" Nick looked up to see Erika, one of the newest of his followers, gazing at him quizzically with raised eyebrows. He smiled, trying to reassure her. "Nothing." "Mmm-hmm, and I'm the Queen of Sheba." He laughed outright at that. "No, really." He gestured toward the board. "Just trying to figure out my next move, that's all." Erika looked at the set-up thoughtfully. "Well, I'm no grand master, but I guess that would depend on your opponent. What you think his next move will be." She took a seat across from him. "Ah, but I never have been able to figure him out, yet. LaCroix has won every game." The Knightie sat bolt upright in her chair at that. "LaCroix?" she said carefully. "We've had a tournement of sorts going for quite a while now--this particular game has been going on since..." Nick frowned in thought, and was so quiet that Erika thought he had gone into flashback mode. "....1940," he finished. "*1940*?" she gasped, incredulous. He smiled a little ruefully. "Yeah, well, I guess LaCroix likes to drag things out." Erika snorted in disgust. "No kidding." Nick was getting depressed. She noticed and gestured towards the board. "Why don't we play?" "Can you?" She grinned. "I can try." The vampire moved to clear the board, then hesitated, uncertain. Erika reached across the table and laid a hand on his wrist. "Nick, it's just a game." He smiled wryly. "Not to LaCroix." She looked at him, sympathy etched in her face and clouding her eyes. "No, not to LaCroix," she said. Slowly, he began to clear the board. *************************************** "Wait, you can't do that." "I can't?" "No, the Bishop can only move in this direction..." And so it went. The moves Erika *did* manage to score were more by sheer luck than anything. But winning wasn't really her goal. "So, hear anything from Nat lately?" Nick looked up at her sharply. *Oh, great, Erika. That was about as subtle as a freight train! *She still didn't have all of nuances of a War down. She sighed in frustration and pulled her attention back to Nick. "No, I haven't spoken to her since the War started. She's been avoiding me." He sounded confused and miserable. Erika muttered something under her breath and shoved a pawn forward irritably. "What did you say? I didn't hear you." She glanced up at him, annoyed. "How long is this game going to continue, Nick?" "I don't know what you're talking about..." "No, you don't! Neither of you do!" "Erika....?" "That's all that this has been, hasn't it? Attack and avoidence." Nick was truly worried now. *Perhaps the strain of war has been too much for her.* He tried to calm her. "Erika, War is like that..." She sighed, lowering her voice. "I know, but everything doesn't have to *be* a war. Some things shouldn't be..." Erika saw a spark of comprehension light his eyes. "I--" She got up from the table, placing her hands on the edge. "Look, all I'm saying is, how can you know your enemies -- when you don't even know your friends?" She glanced down at the board one last time, making her final move. "Checkmate," she said, and walked away. Nick looked at the pieces left on the board and started to smile. *She's gotten the pieces wrong again...* Just as suddenly, the smile died. He stared at the board again. The White Knight and White Queen were the only two that remained. Nick stared after Erika's retreating form, thinking. ### WATCH THE PENDULUM... (a) by Dianne la Mercenaire Time: Midday Place: CERK LaCroix was restless. As he walked through the silent halls of the CERK station, his footsteps echoed hollowly. The Cousins were all either out and about or sleeping the day away on vampire time. He himself had not been sleeping well since that little...um..."garlic incident" (he shuddered slightly) and he was, quite frankly, _bored_. Completing his circuit of the station, he was astounded to hear a mortal heartbeat coming from his private rooms in back. Surely not a Cousin, he had made it *quite* clear that invasion of his private space would *not* be tolerated. Stalking into the room he stopped dead to see that infuriating mercenary Dianne sitting calmly on the edge of the bed, leafing through the book on the bed table. "Sun Tzu, 'The Art of War'," she read, flipping idly through the pages. "Oh please! You must have read this a million times already. Why don't you try something written in this millenium?" Before she could see him move he had snatched the book from her hand and replaced it on the table, gratified to hear the sudden, surprised increase in the woman's heartrate. "What are you doing here?" he demanded in a cold, no-more- nonsense voice. Dianne shrugged and answered quite openly, "I was hired to hypnotize you." LaCroix stared in surprise for just a moment before he burst out laughing. "I hope you were paid well," he finally managed, "And in _advance_." She only smiled. "Have you always used some variation on the name 'Lucius'?" she asked randomly. He simply stared at her. "I mean, if you went to India or something it would really stick out, no?" she rambled on. "You'd have to pick something that would blend in," she smiled at the stunned look on his face. "I mean, what's Sanskrit for 'Lucius' anyway...." Dianne let her voice drift off, a victorious grin splitting her face as she watched LaCroix succumbing to the sudden bout of induced flashback-itis. Once again she was glad that she'd spent some serious time in the back library stacks before she came to Toronto. It made things _so_ much easier sometimes. ### NEVER ENTER A WAR UNARMED: KARMA, KARMA, CHAMELEON... by Dianne la Mercenaire Time: Flashback <345 C.E., a jungle somewhere in East Asia> Divia descended slowly through the clear, star-lit sky. Her fledgling was in trouble, of that she was certain. Actually, of _that_ she never doubted. However this time she had felt him weakening, drifting away from their mental bond. So she had come here--halfway around the world from the court of Teotihuacan, where she'd been enjoying the attentions of many beautiful, golden-skinned young men--here to this jungle in the middle of nowhere to find Lucius... ...to find him sitting alone, in full lotus position, humming softly to himself, encased in a cloud of noxious-smelling incense, and wearing only a small square of strategically-placed cloth and a beatific smile. "I am no longer 'Lucius'," he informed his mistress proudly, in response to her strained, yet civil, greeting. "I have taken a new name that represents my inner spirit, my goals on this astral plane...." "What? 'Naked Vampire Who Hums in the Jungle'?" "No," he smiled patronizingly. "My name is filled with deep meaning, it is a window through which I can view the cleansing of my spirit, it is a mirror of my soul...," he paused for dramatic effect. "It is 'Small Bug Dancing in a Moonbeam'." Divia looked at him for a moment. "It is *stupid*!" She paused for a moment, trying to be understanding..._trying_ not to alienate him right off the bat. Vampires frequently changed their names, after all--although not usually to something so...so.... "You're _sure_ you don't want to try 'Marcus'," she inquired hopefully, "Or even 'Shiva'? That's nice and ethnic, no?" Luc...um..."Small Bug Dancing in a Moonbeam" looked at her meaningfully. Divia sighed and nodded. _Fine_. Whatever. She could always make him change it later. At least this wasn't as bad as that time he'd hung out for a few decades in Phoenicia and dyed his hair bright purple. "You're weak, tired," she said in her most soothing, maternal voice. "Come with me and we will feed. I will take you back with me and you and I can wander the other side of the world...." But Small Bug Dancing in a Moonbeam was shaking his head sadly, "You still do not understand. Feeding from living creatures does _terrible_ things to the karma. It blocks up all of your energy channels and leaves you irritable and destructive." He paused and resumed humming for a few moments. Then he looked up at her, his eyes bright and unfocused, "Come sit with me, and together we can learn to open up our minds to dimensions and planes never before explored!" Divia tried to take one of the deep, calming breaths she had perfected over the last few centuries, but ended up with lungfuls of incense instead. Coughing and wheezing in a most undignified manner, her patience finally snapped. Grabbing him by one arm, and scarcely noticing his weak struggles to free himself, Divia hauled him into the jungle and pounced on the first living thing she found. Tearing the wild deer's throat open with her own fangs, she held the pulsing wound against her fledgling's throat until he was forced to swallow the pouring blood or choke. When the flow of blood stopped, Divia tossed both fledgling and prey carelessly to the ground. Stopping to lick stray drops from her own hand, she felt a surge of relief in the strengthened bond she felt with her childe. Through it, however, she could also feel the despair, the anger...and most of all the guilt. When he finally turned to look at her, his eyes still glowing with his renewed strength, she faced him without any trace of remorse or apology. "_That_ is how a vampire feeds. Think you've got it now?" The bitter accusation in his stare surprised even her. His voice was low and choked as he spat the hateful words at her: "He...he was my _friend_! I called him *Fluffy*!" ### WATCH THE PENDULUM... (b) by Dianne la Mercenaire Time: Midday Place: CERK As LaCroix's eyes once again glazed over, in thrall to the memory of events long past, three more mortals crept silently into the room. Chris, Erika, and Lisa moved slowly. The Nick&NatPackers had been far from thrilled with Dianne's plan, but had been able to come up with anything less dangerous. Minds focused strongly on revenge, they crept closer to the oblivious vampire. Dianne cursed to herself and *glared* at Lisa. This flashback wasn't gonna last forever..in fact, he seemed to be coming out of it. She motioned firmly with her head in his direction. Lisa took a deep breath and--drawing upon years of practice in giving shots to horses without serious bodily harm to herself-- stepped forward, poking him in the rump with a horse-sized hypodermic needle, and jumped back quickly before he could kick...um...'bite.' LaCroix's snarl of outrage turned almost immediately to howls of agony. The four women watched, fascinated, as he fell to the floor, writhing about in pain. With a sudden, tremendous spasm, his body collapsed--limp and apparently lifeless...except for the sudden color in his face. Whipping out the stethescope she'd borrowed from Natalie, Chris edged close enough to check his heart rate. A slow smile lit her face. "It worked. He's *human*!" Dianne was grinning smugly at yet another coup. As the man before them stirred groggily, she directed the others to sit him up facing her. Reaching for her pocket, she drew out the final weapon in her arsenal. "Gotta earn my commission!" she explained to the utterly confused ex-vampire before her. Holding up her Chuck E. Cheese coin, pierced and tied to a fine thread, she started to swing it slowly back and forth. "Just keep your eyes on the pendulum..." ### BE MY VALENTINE (*NOT*) by Christine Hunt Time: Midday Place: CERK "You're growing tired, Lucius..." Dianne's soothing voice had the ex-vampire's eyes fluttering closed within moments, as his new mortal state, induced by the horse-shot of leitovuterine-C, took full effect. "Is this the part where you make him act like a chicken?" Erika asked, totally amused. Dianne la Mercenaire shot her an amused glance, replete with the wicked joy she was taking in this latest job. "If you like," she said. "Wait." Christine Hunt took the bottle of champagne from her pocketbook, a sense of satisfaction overwhelming her as LaCroix seemed to start as he heard the "pop". "The same vintage he used on Natalie--although I think the drug is a little stronger...." "What if it interacts with the leitovuterine--" Erika began, but was silenced by Dianne's evil smirk. "Okay, Lucius, I want you to take a nice drink to calm yourself down," she commanded. LaCroix obeyed, downing the entire bottle in a few gulps. Lisa's eyes opened wide. "I sure hope he can hold his liquor," she commented. "I don't," Christine responded mirthlessly. As if on cue, LaCroix began to giggle with intoxication. "Now, Lucius, I want you to listen to me," Dianne began, returning to the job she'd been paid for. "You are not a vampire. You never have been. You are a mortal... Your name is Lucius LaCroix." She shot a glance at the others. "Your friends call you Luke. You were born in 1955 in..." She hesitated, then, looking at Christine, said, "...Brooklyn." Christine was sure she'd lose it, but tried deperately not to laugh. "You're a disc jockey...and your best friend is a police detective named Nick Knight. You went to college together in...New Jersey." "Princeton?" Erika piped in helpfullly. Christine rolled her eyes. "He went to Princeton and became a DJ?" she whispered dubiously. Dianne shrugged her shoulders. "You went to Cornell and became a high school teacher," she whispered back in defense of her made-up story. She turned back to LaCroix. "All you want is to see Nick happy... in fact, you'd love nothing more than to be the best man at his wedding to Natalie..." And on it went. Finally, LaCroix opened his eyes. "How 'ya doin', girls?" he asked pleasantly in the worst Brooklyn accent Christine had ever heard. "Any of yous seen my buddy Nicky?" Their jaws nearly dropped. Even Dianne hadn't known she was this good. This was all too weird. And she was sure that if LaCroix called Nick his "homeboy" she would faint dead away... ### A PIECE OFFERING by Jill Kirby, Leslie and the Natpack, with the kind permission of Pam Rush and Christine Hawkins Time: Lunchtime Place: The Happy Souvlaki Deli Jill stood in front of the Happy Souvlaki deli, unmoving. She had one hand on the door but hadn't pushed it open. She just stood there, eyes shut, looking really stupid. "Jill?" Leslie poked her in the back. "Are we going in, or do you want to stand out here all night?" Jill didn't open her eyes. "This isn't going to be easy. I hate conflict." For a moment, she longed for home. This War stuff was quite what she had expected-- she'd had to attack friends; gotten drugged with LSD and made an even bigger ass of herself than she usually did; been kidnapped and had LaCroix too close for comfort... "Well, we have to tell them," said Leslie, interrupting her reverie. "Besides, we have ..." she indicated the box she held under one arm. "It should help smooth the way." Jill brightened. "True." Drawing a deep breath, Jill entered the deli, Leslie behind her. It was full of customers happily noshing on all kinds of food, and both Leslie and Jill heard their stomachs rumble at the smells inside. Neither had eaten for quite a while. While they were LSD, all they had wanted was junk food, and since their "detox" most of the Pack had been too queasy to eat at all. But now their noses quivered at the smells-- tomato, garlic, fresh bread, and spices that their uneducated palates couldn't even begin to identify. A curly-haired woman came toward them. "Would you like a table?" She thought that the two newcomers looked vaguely familiar, but she didn't think they'd met. These days, in Toronto looked familiar. "You must be Pam," said Jill. . As a second woman, a blonde wearing glasses, walked up behind Pam, Jill smiled. "And you must be the other A-negative FoD." Christine looked at them suspiciously. "You are..." Leslie stuck out her hand. "I'm Leslie, and this is Jill Kirby." Both Christine and Pam shot them looks of pure displeasure and backed away a few steps. "You're " said Pam. "What are doing here?" Christine ignored Pam's logical greeting. "PLASTIC FOOD! YOU SENT US PLASTIC FOOD!" Christine was so indignant that Jill expected to see steam come out of her ears. "We did it for a good reason!" insisted Leslie. "And that's why we're here." Pam was patting Christine on the shoulder. "Think about things, Christie," said Pam anxiously. "Hot chocolate... cookies right out of the oven..." "Tea with lemon and honey and whiskey in it..." said Christine faintly, visibly beginning to calm down. "Now would be a good time to pull out our peace offering," whispered Jill to Leslie. Leslie nodded, and opened the box with a flourish. Everyone gasped (even Jill and Leslie, who had seen it before but were now really, hungungry). It was a cake-- b- but not just a cake. A work of art. Any merc worth his or her salt would have climbed the CN tower for it. At least four layers. Light, dark white chocolate frostings, marzipan fruit in spun sugar baskets, real whipped cream... Leslie's and Jill's stomachs both growled. Loudly. Pam and Christine stared at the cake for a moment, their anger vying with their hunger for the cake. When Christine finally looked up at them, the Natpackers saw true forgiveness in her expression. "Would you... would you like a piece while we talk?" Over cake (accompanied by icy cold skim milk, of course) Jill and Leslie detailed why the Natpack had done what they'd done. The men who'd contacted the Natpackers in their various cities, asking the strange questions about vampires; the realization that everyone in the Pack had been contacted, including Natalie; their trips to Toronto... "And now, Natalie's gone." Leslie ate a marzipan banana in a single bite. It was a relief to be able to eat something without having it turn into a giant, glowing green toad. "Gone where?" asked Pam. She was still somewhat distracted-- she was mentally analyzing the filling between the cake layers, and wondering if it was something they could duplicate. They had the technology... Jill pushed the plate away from her. This topic killed even her insatiable lust for sugar. "Kidnapped. No one has claimed responsibility yet." "Cousins," said Christine darkly. "It's usually the Cousins." "No," said Jill, shaking her head. "I don't think so. Besides, they're awfully by busy fighting over the Raven and CERK." "Such a shame," sighed Pam. "Natalie is a great customer." She paused. "Well," she said practically, eyeing the cake that was left, "If you don't have anywhere else to go right now, I've a dessert wine I've been dying to try out. Any takers?" Leslie and Jill didn't leave the deli for quite some time. After all, Natpackers and FoD's have a deal in common. ### DAZED AND CONFUSED (Part 3) by Risha Time: 12:09 pm Place: A Toronto hotel room. I felt better after a full night's sleep and a good meal or two. A little more sane now, I had realised that there was a slight problem with my search for the dasterdly villians responsible for my continual exclusion from the Wars. I hadn't a clue where to start. *Well, it could be the Cousins. Candi isn't the first one I ever had kidnapped.* I grinned, remembering what I had done to Cousin Caile as a method of introduction during my first war. *She wasn't happy. Good thing I managed to stop her revenge. I don't think that I would look very good with a shaved head, much less the broken bones. We _both_ received orders to cool it down at that point.* *If it had been just _this_ war, I might very well suspect the Ravenettes. After all, I've gone Merc. They have no way of knowing that I'm still loyal- that I'm just having a bit of fun while Janette is away. I think, correction, I _hope_ that she'll understand, but I'm not so sure that the others will. I'd go to them now, if I wasn't such a coward.* *What are my other choices? I doubt that the Knighties or the Natpackers even remember my name, much less have anything against me. Not that biological warfare is their style anyway. Same with the FoDs and the Die Hards. Most of the rest weren't even around when I started to play. The Mercs... now, the Mercs might get upset that I've been out on my own, well, with Wyndi and Di, but we tend to be an independent lot. Besides, the same arguement applies. I've been around even longer then the Guild.* *So I guess this leaves me with the Cousins as my main suspects. Only, I don't think that I've been a big enough problem in the past to justify _this_ sort of retaliation. Besides, even if it is them, how could I find out? Walk into the Raven(x) and ask?* A snort of amusement escaped. *Yeah, right. And I promptly become LaCroix's lunch.* *So what are my options?* My gaze absentmindedly scanned the room, alighting on the hideous clothes that I had been wearing the previous day. Fortunately, I had found my own stuff in the closet, but most of it was dirty (apparently my missing time had not been spent doing laundry). Besides, it was all so _old_! And, on my college student budget, boring. Deep within my Ravenette soul, a spark flickered, caught, and slowly grew into a bonfire of need (ah, metaphors!). And suddenly, I knew what I had to do. I would go shopping. _______________________________________________________________________ WILL RISHA GO SHOPPING? WHAT WILL SHE BUY? WILL SHE PAY FOR IT WITH HER OWN MONEY? (Yeah, right.) DOES THIS LIST OF QUESTIONS HAVE A POINT? WHAT ABOUT THIS SERIES? DOES THE AUTHOR HAVE EVEN THE FAINTEST IDEA OF WHERE SHE IS GOING WITH ALL THIS? (No.) Find out the answers to these questions, plus the answers to more questions that you didn't even know that you had, next time, same vampire bat time, same vampire bat channel. _______________________________________________________________________ (x) Yes, I know that the Cousins don't have control of the Raven at the moment, but in the story I don't know that, OK? ### PLOT TWISTS/DAZED AND CONFUSED MEGA CROSSOVER! (b) by the Alfred Mercs Time: 3:47pm EST Place: A random shopping mall "Oh, that's GREAT! But that one is better, and so is _that_ one, and oh! that!" Risha sighed. "Oh, well, I guess that I'll just have to take them all," she said philosophically. She had been shopping for a few hours now, and was just beginning to get going. The rental car had started to groan under the weight of her purchases, but Risha showed no signs of mercy. On she went, to the next store, and to the next, and to the next. Somewhere around the bookstore, the credit card had begun to smoke, and only a quick trip to the bathroom in order to run it under the cool water had saved it. That was when she saw it. *Where's that light coming from?* she thought dazedly. *And the music? Oh, it's just muzac and a spotlight. But still...* The dress was simply sumptuous. Risha normally couldn't wear red- it washed her right out- but this deep shade would suit her perfectly. The long slit skirt fell to the floor in a graceful sweep, while the back plunged almost as low. The V-shaped neckline had to come low enough tantalize any man not already dead (and even the undead would be in trouble). It would display her already impressive 42D bust to full advantage. And yet, any woman wearing this dress would look regal, not cheap. *I must have... I must have...* Risha looked at the tag and whimpered. It was even her size. Reverently, she took it to try on. The thing fit her like a glove, only better. When she came to out of her dead faint, she bought it. (Like you couldn't tell, right?). +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ Risha stepped out of store, still flushed with pleasure (from buying the dress, and get your mind out of the gutter!). *You know, I really need to buy some long gloves that match... and maybe a cape?...* She bumped into a woman by accident. "Oh, sorry," she muttered absentmindedly and walked on. And she stopped. And she looked back. "Wasn't that...?" "Wyndi! Di! Am I glad to see you!" Wyndi and Diana both did a double-take. "Bwah, ga, fa, um...huh?" was all that Wyndi could get out. "But Risha, we heard you'd been arrested! What are you doing here?" "Arrested? What? Me? What are you talking about?" "Edie said that you were arrested by the FBI," Wyndi said. "Wait a second," Di interjected. "Edie said that you had been arrested _in_ _Alfred_. None of us have been there in quite a while." "Are you sure of that? When's the last time that you saw me?" Risha asked eagerly. The others looked confused. "It was after we left Candi on the statue," Di said uncertainly. "We split up afterwords. You said that you were going to hang around in Toronto for awhile, and that you would try to figure what to do next- hook up with the regular Mercs, meet up with the Ravenettes, or just mooch food off the FoDs. That was the last we heard from you." "Yes, dearie, you never even bothered to call. We were starting to get worried about you!" Wyndi added. "D***," Risha exclaimed. "Oh, I should of known that it wouldn't be that easy." She looked at their confused expressions. "Ummh, maybe we should find someplace to sit down and exchange stories." +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ Stories safely exchanged, and bellies safely filled with some yummy coffee and dessert (cocoa for Wyndi), the newly reunited Alfred Mercs (unaffiliated) (tm) contemplated their options. Lane seemed to be their only clue to any of this. "You do know what this means, don't you?" Wyndi asked with a strange glint in her eyes. "_Torture_." "He will suffer greatly before he talks, but HE WILL TALK, " Risha added enthusiastically. "Ummh, guys, no permenent damage, remember? And besides, the list is PG13 - our readers won't like too much blood and gore." The others quickly shushed her. "Remember the fourth wall! DON'T BREAK THE FOURTH WALL. My god, the next thing you know, you'll be talking to the readers." "I wouldn't do that, would I?" Di asks you, in total defiance of all the rules of good fiction. "There you go! You just did it!" "Yes?" "Who just said that?" "But she..." "But they..." "Oh, all right." WILL THEY TORTURE LANE? WILL IT BE GORY? WILL THE NARRATOR TAKE REVENGE FOR HAVING TO NARRATE THIS STUFF? WILL THEY CONTINUE TO VIOLATE THE FOURTH WALL? EXACTLY HOW TIRED _WAS_ RISHA WHEN SHE WROTE THAT LAST SECTION? ### VAMPIRE FROM BROOKLYN? by Christine Hunt (with input from Dianne DeSha and Erika Hanson) Time: Late afternoon Place: CERK, Azure Restaurant Luke LaCroix, as he was calling himself now, had nearly passed out from the drugged champagne, and they'd let him take a nap, hoping that neither the effects of the leitovuterine-C, nor the hypnotism, would wear off. But when he awoke, they were sure that their plan was still moving along nicely. He emerged from his private room at the old CERK station dressed in tight-fitting blue jeans and nothing more than a white undershirt. Even Erika, devoted Knightie as she was, had to admit that LaCroix looked almost as sexy in jeans as Nick did. "Uh-huh," Chrisitne agreed as if reading Erika's thoughts, trying hard not to stare at LaCroix's body. *Now I know what the Cousins see in him* she thought to herself. Dianne seemed less impressed, or simply better able to conceal her appreciation of the form before her. "Well, let's get this show on the road," she told the others. "You've got the place 'reserved'?" Lisa nodded with a sly grin. "Luke's favorite table." LaCroix looked up in interest."Yo, are we goin' someplace to eat? I could eat a f***in' horse right now." Christine cringed. *Do we really sound that bad?* she wondered. Dianne put a hand on his arm. "Not only are we going to eat, but we're arranging to have your friend Nick join us." LaCroix looked generally excited. "F***in' A! He ain't been around in a long time. This'll be a real piss." Dianne smiled sweetly. "It sure will." *** They'd convinced LaCroix to don his leather coat, knowing that his human body would feel the cold more than his vampire incarnation had. After a short car ride they arrived at their destination. Azure. LaCroix looked at the exclusive restaurant without recognition. Even as they endtered, the women held their breath that they hadn't made a mistake in bringing him here. Should his memories of his "dinner" with Natalie resurface here.... But the sense of irony had been too sweet. It had to be here. They were alone in the restaurant. LaCroix's money had seen to that, once again. They watched curiously as he frowned at the menu. He seemed suddenly uncomfortable, and they began to worry that perhaps those memories had begun to return. "Is there a problem, Luke?" Christine asked boldly. He shook his head. "Nah, it's just that this place ain't my style...We shoulda went to the Pizzeria down the block...." Erika looked at him in puzzlement, and Lisa mumbled, "He's from Brooklyn. Besides, he IS italian after all..." Dianne tried to suppress a giggle as she said, "Oh, don't worry, Luke. I'm sure there's something here you'd like...." *** Outside, Nick's Caddy pulled up, Judy driving as Nick sat huddled in protective clothing in the passenger seat. "It's okay, Nick," Maryann called from the back seat. "The sun's going down..." He didn't know how he'd let them convince him to go with them. But they were Knighties, after all; he knew they wouldn't mislead him. And with Natalie missing, he had to do something, anything, to get to the bottom of this entire situation. Anything to keep from going out of his mind with worry.... But as he looked with trepidation out the car window, his face grew even paler than normal. "Azure," he whispered hoarsely. "What the hell is this all about?" "Trust us, Nick," Judy said in a sweet, honest voice that had coaxed him out in the first place. "We're doing this for you and Nat." He drew in a breath. "Is she here?" he asked hopefully. Judy shook her head. "No. We don't know where she is any more than you do. But I'm sure she'll be all right, and when she comes back, this will make things much easier for you both." Doubting his own sanity as much as theirs, he followed them inside....and stopped dead in his tracks. Before him sat LaCroix, amongst the Nick&NatPackers.... Dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, and with a huge bowl of pasta in front of him. And...his *mouth was full*. "Yo, Nicky!" LaCroix called, waving him over between bites. Marinara sauce dripped from the side of his mouth, where Nick had never seen anythbing but human blood. LaCroix wiped it away with his bare hand, then smeared the sauce onto his t-shirt carelessly. "Sit down! Let's have a few brews, and tell me how the hell you've been! I ain't seen you in ages!" Nick simply stared at him like a deer caught in headlights. ### PLOT TWISTS (Part 7)/ DAZED AND CONFUSED (Part 5) CROSSOVER by the Alfred Mercs (Unafiliated) Time: 6pm EST Place: Below Vachon's Church Diana and Risha womanhandled a chair into the cell they were keeping Lane in. He woke up with a start to their inelegant enterance. He watched curiously as they bolted the wicker chair to the floor. These had been the first people he'd seen almost all day. Diana carefully moved the squeeze bottles of water and Ribena out of the way, along with the untouched plate of spam sandwitches. Lane looked at those sandwiches in disgust. The stuff was thoroughly inedible. Diana said softly, "Spam not to your liking I see. Pity. This is going to take a while." Wyndi entered then, swathed in a bright red cape. "Is everything in Readiness, my assistants?" She demanded. Di looked at her far more theatrical enterance with a mixture of annoyance and envy. "Did You bring the flip and f--um...fouton, Mistress?" she asked submissively, carefully schooling her tone. Wyndi waved Her hand imperiously, "Oh, that. you fetch it. Quickly!" Diana scurried up the stairs after the -fouton. Swiftly returning with it, she also returned with something else. Vachon trailed behind her, deciding at the last moment that keeping these three from getting out of hand was a GOOD IDEA (tm). He ducked quickly out of the way as Torrey also followed. Torrey settled herself in a corner of the room to watch. Wyndi snapped Her fingers. Risha lit the candles, allowing Lane to see his captors for the first time tonight in good light. Diana was standing over him, the folds of her red robe falling on his legs as she snapped a collar around his neck. He looked a bit closer as she backed away for a moment, waiting for Risha. The clothing looked like- a Cardinal's formal robes?!! Risha turned from the candles and came over to Lane, kneeling on his other side. The red dress she wasn't wearing....his eyes glazed for a moment at the sight of her in that dress, and he was snapped suddenly to attention. "Is everything prepared, My pets?" "Yes, Mistress." they said in unison. Wyndi pushed back Her cape, revealing and outfit of red leather straps everywhere it was essential for them to be. "Strap him to the Comfy Chair!" Risha and Diana handed Mistress the end of the leash, then untied the cuffs from the floor, NOT Lane's wrists and ankles. They placed him into the Comfy Chair despite his struggles, and strapped him there, as Mistress had ordered. They then knelt on either side of the chair. In the corner, Torrey was looking rather confused. Peeking in through the doorway, Vachon was first entranced by the...dress, then winced as Lane was moved to the //Comfy Chair?\\ "Diana, bring Me the soft cushions." Diana reached behind the chair and brought out two soft cushions. She then knelt before Mistress, holding the cushions before her, eyes downcast. "Risha, take one of My soft cushions, and return to your place. Diana, return to your place." They both obey, and kneel on either side of the Comfy Chair holding a soft cushion. Lane looks on either side of him. Especially on Risha's side. Soft cushions, a comfortable chair, and a lovely woman kneeling next to him were hardly torture in his mind. //What are they up to?\\ he wondered, seeing that the vaquera and Vachon were equally puzzled. "Poke him with My soft cushions." Diana and Risha poked Lane in the sides with the cushions, their movements smooth, almost choreographed. Lane couldn't resist a small, quickly supressed, giggle. No, he didn't just giggle. //I never giggle\\ "Confess, CONFESS!!" Lane looked at the madwoman camly now. "You MUST be joking." Risha said timidly, " It doesn't seem to be working, Mistress." Wyndi frowned, "Are they plush cushions? Is the stuffing all pushed up into one corner?" "Yes, Mistress." they both said, doublechecking. "Hmmmmmmmm. Risha." "Yes Mistress." "Tie him to.....The Rack." Lane shivered. This wasn't funny anymore. Vachon watched Risha reach behind the chair. //Ah. so THAT's what happened to the dishrack. And the coffee grinder. Ah, ducttape.\\ Wyndi looked at what her servants had come up with... She raised Her eyes to the heavens, wondering where She had ever gotten such... //Ah, well.\\ She met Torrey's eyes, a trifle embarressed, then said, "Tie him." Diana and Risha strapped The Rack to Lane's chest. "Give The Rack," Wyndi put Her hand over Her eyes, murmured softly, "Oh no.... A TURN!" Diana laughed maniacally, grabbed the handle of the coffee grinder tightly, and began to despondantly, but quickly, turn it. "Confess. CONFESS!!!!!" Lane raised one, eloquent eyebrow. Wyndi sighed, turing away slightly... "How did I ever get into this," She murmered to Herself softly.... Hearing this, Diana, stung by her Mistress' comment, declared "Hey! I never wanted to be a torturer's assistant!" Torrey looked around frantically for something to throw. Her hand came upon one of the discarded, soft cushions. Diana stood and tossed off the cardinal's robe, revealing... flannel? "I wanted to be..." Diana pulled out a furry hat and put it on the top of her head, "a Lumber--OOMPH!" Diana's limp woodsy forms lumped to the floor. Torrey sighed in relief. The last thing they needed was the Lumberjack Song!!! Wyndi frowned, displeased. "We will have to think of a suitable punishment for her..." She murmered softly. Lane looked around, confused. //Torture her? I thought they were supposed to be torturing ME? and they aren't doing a very good job of that...\\ He wriggled a bit to get more confortable in the chair. Wyndi considered Her options. "Risha!" "Yes, Mistress?" "Wake her." Risha took one of the squeeze bottles of Ribena and squirted Diana awake. Diana wiped the sticky stuff out of her eyes, licking her fingers with relish once she discovered how they had awakened her. The back of her head hurt. She looked down, and for the life of her couldn't remember where the Flannel had come from.... "Diana." Diana snapped to attention at the sound of her Mistress' voice. "you have displeased Me, diana." "yesMistressi'msorryMistressi'msuchafoolidon'tknowwhatonearthis wrongwithme." "Risha, bring Me the earplugs." Risha carefully presented the earplugs to Mistress, eyes downcast. The others looked around at each other, puzzled. It couldn't be too bad. Could it? Wyndi tapped Her foot on a spot on the floor next to Her meaningfully. Diana crawled quickly to kneel on the designated spot, eyes downcast, trembling slightly. "diana, do you remember the words to the song, 'I like Traffic Lights'?" Diana shivered, but merely murmured, loud enough for Mistress to hear, "Of course, Mistress." Torrey bolted for the door, barely noticing Vachon on the way out. Vachon looked puzzled, as he does so well. Wyndi gave Diana the earplugs, commanding, "Wait five minutes FIRST." She beckoned to Risha, who followed as She swept out of the room. Vachon waited to see what would happen. Lane felt nervous at Torrey's swift exit. //What was the song about? Traffic lights?\\ Diana, still on her knees, placed the earplugs in her ears, and began to sing softly. "I like Tra-fic-lights. I like Tra-fic-lights. I like Tra-fic-lights, But only when they're green. Vachon was puzzled. This wasn't good. But not bad. "I like Tra-fic-lights. I like Tra-fic-lights. I like Tra-fic-lights, But not when they're red. Vachon and Lane began to squirm. This wasn't good. At all. "I like Tra-fic-lights..." +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ Time: One hour later... "But my name's not Bamber" Di took a sip of the water, her voice was going downhill fast. With the earplugs she couldn't tune herself, and the long period of singing was not making things better. Vachon had fled long ago. She wondered. Her Mistress had not told her when to stop... +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ Place: The top floor of the Church Vachon paced uneasily. "I can still HEAR her!" The vaqueros who followed Vachon's retreat to keep him company were regreting their decisions. Vachon was slowly vamping out. And this time one could make no clapper jokes. None of them could tell what was bothering him so much... "ENOUGH!!!" he exclaimed. "This WILL stop." Vachon flew (literally) down to the basement, bursting in on the singer and the unconscious Lane. Diana broke off as Vachon entered, but bravely started again, per Mistress's orders. Vachon caught her eyes and mind in a rather over-handed grip. (he was a little stressed-forgive him) *You will NEVER sing THAT SONG again!!! Is that clear?* He commanded. Diana resisted slightly. "But Mistress said..." she said weakly. Vachon snarled, tightening his hold on her mind *NEVER AGAIN. You will never sing THAT SONG ever again.* "Never again...." Diana fainted. That part of the problem solved, Vachonhon tore apart the bonds holding Lane to the chair. He carried the ue unconscious merc outside the church and flew to the Happy Souvlaki Deli, dumping him unceremoniously in front of it. He then returned to the Church to have a little talk about appropriate songs in his church. No more allowing followers in without ground rules. ### A NEW RECRUIT by Lady Rhian Time: About Sunset Place: Canada "Steady," Rhiannon muttered to herself. "Your parents are in Italy, having the time of their lives, your boss has given you ten days off, and you are going to Toronto, to take part in a war." She had been muttering this none-too-calming mantra to herself ever since she crossed the border, her battered Caravelle eating up the miles between New Jersey and Toronto. The car stereo blasted "Kiss from a Rose" so loudly, she swore they could still here it in NYC, and she sang along, belting out the tune over and over as the mood struck her. Ah, there it was... the Toronto city limits. The setting sun gleamed of the CN Tower, and she shut off the tape player for a respectful moment of silence. It wasn't exactly like the opening credits of FK, but then, she didn't have the music playing or a funky light filter in front of her eyes, either. As soon as she could, she pulled off the main drag and rented a room in a motel. She had debated the wisdom of doing so many times on the trip up, but the end result of all her internal arguing led to the same facts. She was tired and grungy from two days on the road, and she needed to take a shower and change before going to the Raven. After a deliciously long shower and a change of clothes... her best court wear from the SCA would have to do... she had nothing in real life that cost so much or was so elegant, and the Ravenettes seemed to appreciate elegant dress, she headed for the Raven, protecting herself with a cape she'd sewn double thick for a war in Ealdormere she'd never gone to. She didn't have to wait long to get in. The bouncer at the door look one look at her dress, cape and Toreador pin and let her inside. "Probably used to seeing freaky-looking mortals by now." she thought, uncharitably. The Raven was full of dancing people. "Just like on TV," she thought to herself with a slightly cynical chuckle. She made to move down the steps, but after a few steps, her way was blocked by a red-haired man in a leather jacket. "Pardon me," she murmured, stepping away and trying to move in another direction. Only to bump into a long-haired blonde in a purple vinyl dress that seemed much too skimpy for November in Toronto. "Sorry," she said apologetically, and tried again, wondering why on earth she was so clumsy tonight. She hadn't gone more than a step when she was bumped again, this time by a trendily-dressed college age couple in preppie clothes. But they didn't look at all apologetic. Intense, yes, apologetic, no. And very, very pale. A shiver of apprehension went up her spine, like someone walking on her grave. She looked around pretending to be casual, and saw that the blonde and the guy in leather were still crowded in around her, penning her in. "Well, my danger sense is infallible, as usual," thought to herself. "And only works when I'm already deep in the kim-chee." *** Time: 8:30pm EST Place: The Raven Even though she was in Toronto, and even though she believed in vampires, she had never expected to see them... and never this soon... and never from the victim's point of view. Okay, what were her options? She silently ticked them off in her head. One, run away. Two, scream. Then, run away. Three, try something really unusual and hope she wasn't forced into doing numbumbers one or two. The four vampires leaned in closer, sniffing at her bare skin as if they found it intriguing. In a feeble attempt at humor, and trying desperately not to scream at the top of her lungs, she said, "Um, did I forget to wear underarm deodorant, or something?" The man in the black leather jacket gave her a feral smile. No fangs... not yet, anyway. "You smell good," he murmurred in her ear, like a lover. "I wanna eat you out, suck you dry, and come back for more." "OH SH*T!" she screamed mentally. Summoning up her calmest smile, she looked at them all like they were na naughty schoolchildren. She felt her spine stiffening, until she could look down on all of them. "That would be most... unwise. The consequences wouldn't be... pleasant. I'm here to see the Boss." Their faces fell, and the couple backed away. The blonde turned without a word and stalked off. Only the red-headed man in the jacket was left, and he hadn't moved an inch. "Allow me to escort you..." he whispered, his cold breath a chill wind on her neck. But his voice died away as she turned and gave him her coldest stare. "What makes you think I am so incompetent that I cannot walk there on my own?" she asked coldly. Raising his hands in a gesture of peace, he backed away, pausing to take one last sniff near her neck. "You're a rare one," he said softly, his voice all the more menacing because it was so friendly. "Tasty, and smart, too. But not as smart as you think. What makes you think the Boss won't have the same reaction that we did?" She allowed a cold smile to creep over her face. "Because he and I are... old friends." Hoping he couldn't hear her knees knocking together underneath her dress, she glared at him, daring him to stay in front of her. Slowly, mockingly, he moved away. She walked down into the club and collapsed into the nearest unoccupied chair. Was this a good idea? Like hell! She should never have come. She'd wondered if vampires were conisseurs of different and rare blood types. Now she had her answer. And didn't make her very happy. "Just what I needed to know...," she grumbled to herself. "I top the list in vampire good eats." ### BLACK THOUGHTS By Lady Rhian Time: 8:35pm EST Place: The Raven After her legs went back to normal, she still sat in the rickety black chair and thought. Coming to the Raven was a BAD IDEA. After all, it was a hangout for the Cousins and the Ravenettes, she still wasn't sure who currently owned the place... that was still up in the air the last time she checked her E-mail. And she didn't think getting either faction's attention was a good thing to do. What to do, what to do... Since she wasn't sure of exactly where the other factions were based (aside from the obvious... she just didn't have addresses to Nick's place, Nat's apartment, etc.) she figured that if she survived tonight, she'd go to the only other "known" hangout: The Happy Souvlaki Deli. "Who knows," she thought to herself. "I might just run in to someone there who can give me directions to...." she broke off the thought, a wide grin forming on her face. The grin died as she glanced towards the bar. A bunch of women were clustered around it, seemingly arguing over something. "Cousins," she muttered under her breath. They didn't seem to have enough style for Ravenettes, anyway. "If this is my family, I want to be an orphan." She got up from her chair and moved towards the bar. Who knows? Maybe she'd hear what they were arguing about... and it never hurt to have a leg up on the competition.... ### A MEETING IN THE RAVEN By Lady Rhian Time: Evening Place: The Raven She tried not to be too conspicuous, but already the "meeting" such as it was, was breaking up. "Okay," Rhiannon thought to herself. "So much for that plan." Thoughtfully, she rubbed her temples. The constant stream of Hard Rock music emanating from the speakers was giving her a massive, whanging headache. "I've gotta get out of here before I get killed," she thought, her lips twisting into a wry expression. "Either by the music, or one of the patrons... or even the owner!" Just then, out of the corner of her eye, she spotted a young blonde vampire that looked awfully familliar. "Urs," she thought excitedly. "That's Urs... and she knows where Vachon... lives... for lack of a better word." Making an abrupt about face, she walked over to the female vampire, and insinuated herself into the crowd near the bar, careful not to get too close. "Urs," she said, making her voice a little louder than usual to be heard over the thumping bass and talking customers. The vampire's head whipped around and her face became wary. But when she saw how Rhiannon waswas dressed, she relaxed slightly. "Yeah?" she asked. "How do I get to the church? I'm here to join and... I've never been to Toronto before." "You one of his followers?" "I hope to be." Urs nodded. "Okay, here's what you do..." A short time later, Rhiannon parked near a church that was painted with holstein spots. "Interesting redecorating," she thought, studying the church from several angles, "I wonder if he asked Alma to design it." She pulled up the hood on her cape, tucking her sable-colored hair into the commodious pocket behind her head. She walked up to the church and knocked on the door. No response. She tried the knob, and the door was jerked out of her hand. ### THE HOMEBOYS' PACT by Christine Hunt Time: Night Place: Toronto Nick couldn't believe his eyes. Before him, LaCroix sat at the dinner table, surrounded by amused Nick&NatPackers and an almost hysterical Merc, in a white T-shirt with a pack of cigarettes folded neatly into his sleeve. And he was *eating*. A long string of spaghetti hung from his mouth, a victim of his voracious and careless hunger. And it was then that a memory stirred within Nick, of a day not so long ago when he too had pigged out.... "Leitovuterine?" he asked, bewildered. "Leitovuterine-C," Lisa replied proudly, amazed still by her own handiwork. "But his behavior, his *accent*..." Nick sputtered. "A little hyponosis will do wonders," Dianne the Merc replied, proud of *her* handiwork. "But then again, you know that," she added with a wink. "But why?" Nick asked, still not understanding. "For what he did to Natalie," Erika broke in. "To both of you." "Precisely the same thing," Judy put in from Nick's side. "Down to the drugged champagne..." "Which worked great, by the way, Judy," Erika informed her. "He puked his guts up." Oblivious to them all, LaCroix kept eating, like the Energizer Bunny on a feeding frenzy. "So what now?" Nick asked dubiously. "It won't last, you know." "Oh, it'll last a few hours at most," Christine told him, speaking up finally. She came to face Nick. "Enough time for you to set everything right." Nick shrugged his shoulders. "But how?" "By helping him to regain his memory," she said with meaning, looking into his eyes. "In essence, by *saving* him from us. And from what he could do to himself in his present state without knowing he's a vampire." Nick was pensive for a moment before he asked quietly, "And how will that set things right between me and Natalie?" "Because he'll *owe* you one," Chrstine stressed. "And if there's one thing you can say for Luke here--maybe the only thing--it's that his word is his bond." A smile spread across Nick's face as the implications began to intoxicate him. No longer would he have to fear what LaCroix might do to Natalie if he ever found out just how much Nick loved her. And once that danger was gone, that obstacle eliminated.... He slid into the seat next to LaCroix. "So, how's it going, Lucien--I mean, Luke?" LaCroix slapped him on the back like someone who had no idea of his own strength. "Not bad, Nicky boy. But I got a b***h of a headache...." "Well, I hear you haven't been feeling well...in fact, you seem to have lost your memory." LaCroix took a swig of beer as if wishing to ignore that very fact, or at least not wanting to admit it in front of this crowd of women. "I can help you," Nick offered. This did elicit a curious glance from LaCroix. LaCroix put his hand on Nick's shoulder, pulling him closer, confidentially. "Yo, Nicky, I do seem to be having a little problem with my head. I woke up and I seen these b***hes standin' over me...I figured it was that dime bag I did last night, 'ya know, killin' my brain cells. But I gotta tell you, it's pretty f*****n' scary..." "I can help you," Nick repeated. "But I've got to ask you a favor in return." "Oh, anything, jsut tell me, you got it." Luke replied eagerly. Nick took a breath. "It's about Natalie...." Recognition sparked in LaCroix's eyes. "Oh, that b***h who cuts up dead bodies. Pretty freakin' disgustin' line of work, doncha think?" "Uh, yeah," Nick agreed. "But, uh, Luke, the thing is, that I'm...in love with her..." He glanced up at the N&NPackers, grinning to hear the admission. "And you've done some things in the past to try to break us up..." Luke looked absolutely shocked. "You're sh****n' me! Nicky, I'd never f**k up things between en you and your lady..." "And if I help you...bring back your memory...you'll never try to hurt her, or, uh, f**k up things between us again?" he asked. "Never," LaCroix promised. A smile spread over Nick's face. "Okay Luke....just look into my eyes...." *** Not long afterward, Nick sat among the Nick&NatPack and their favorite Merc, finding their festive mood contagious. LaCroix had not been happy when he'd realized what they'd done...but he did appreciate their ingenuity. In any case, before bringing back his memory, Nick had elicited another promise--not to retaliate in any way against the Nick&NatPack or Dianne for what they'd done. And Christine had been right. With LaCroix, a bargain was a bargain. Grateful to Nicholas for bringing him back to his senses, LaCroix had gone off to the sanctuary of his private haven, to wait out the last few hours of mortality, but not before assuring Nick that his vow would be kept. LaCroix would consider Natalie off-limits, and would in no way interfere with her relationship with Nick. "One obstacle out of the way," Christine told Nick happily. "And here's for help with another, " Lisa added, beaming as she handed him a case holding six vials. "What is it?" Nick asked, staring at the golden liquid. "Leitovuterine-C," Lisa told him. "Six doses. Enough for Natalie to do her own experiments, and, who knows? It's still not perfected, so it's not readily available. Maybe she can work out the kinks in it." "And make me human," Nick said wistfully. "For good." "And until that time, this is yours and hers, to use if you want to," Christine told him. "It's just a temporary fix, but it doesn't seem to have the same side effects as the other. Maybe if you weren't so afraid of being alone with her, it could help you to do some serious communicating." "It's what you need, you know," Erika added. "I'm afraid sometimes just to even kiss her," Nick admitted. "And that fear keeps me from opening up sometimes...from talking to her, and being close to her like I want to be." He took the package from Lisa gratefully, and looked at the happy faces around him. "Thank you. All of you." He looked down. "Now if only we could find out what's happened to her...where she is...." "Don't worry, Nick," Christine promised him. "That's another storyline. And since we're backposting, you probably have Natalie back already!" And they all laughed. Wasn't war just grand? ###