***Sunday, November 12, 1995*** TORREY IN TECHNO TORMENT... by Sherri Campbell Time: Late afternoon Place: Vachon's church Torrey leaned back purring in contentment. It was *so* nice to be able to kick back and relax. The last few days the Vaqueros had been sightseeing, and *shopping*. She sighed. \\I have *never* seen anything like Sherri in that bookstore. How she is going to get all those books home is anybody's guess.// Torrey looked up as Sherri joined her, flopping down on a sleeping bag at Torrey's side. "Hasn't the last couple of days been nice? The break has been really necessary to regain our sanity, well, what sanity we normally have...", said Sherri. Torrey nodded, "Yes, but we really do need to figure out what to do next." Sherri laughed, and held up a book. "How about read?" Torrey reached over and thumped her on the head. "No! You need to think about the war!" Sherri made a face. "Oh, hmm. Now, you know I said I'd help you defend Vachon, as everyone was making fun of him, but, really, what more can we do?" Torrey shook her head and stared at Sherri. Sherri threw her book down in disgust. "Now, don't you start! No Staring! All right, I will think of what we can do next, but only if you do some thinking as well." Torrey appeared to be satisfied by her comments. She leaned over and picked up her laptop. "I guess I had better check our e-mail and see what is going on!" She logged in, and was perusing her mail. Suddenly Torrey was raging, and screaming obscenities. "@#%^, look at this, LOOK AT THIS!" Sherri was at her side immediately, and the other Vaqueros were scrambling to look. It was awful! Torrey's mail was full of requests for re-posts, as the mail she had sent out had large chunks ripped out of it. Scrolling through the massive list of mail, the Vaqueros were dismayed to see request after request for missing things. Torrey's wail cut through the hubbub of sound. "My laptop! I've always wanted a laptop, and now it's broken!" She was crying, and banging her head on the nearby wall. The Vaqueros were shaken. Their fearless leader was reduced to a blubbering blob of ectoplasm! Sherri spoke up, "Torrey, it's okay. Shh, it's okay. We'll have Crystal take a look at your computer and fix it." Sherri looked at Crystal, and mouthed "Take the darn thing and work with it - I know you can do it!" Crystal quietly gathered up the offending laptop, and removed herself to the other side of the church. There was no sound in the church, except for Torrey's anguished muttering and occasional banging of her head on the wall. Vachon appeared from an errand, and hearing the strange comotion, stepped over to Torrey, Sherri and the others. "What's going on?", he said, looking at Torrey. Linda spoke up. "Torrey's computer has been sabotaged, I guess, and she is quite upset." Vachon looked at Torrey. Then he gazed at the other Vaqueros. \\Hmm, I guess I had best do something.// Stepping forward he drew Torrey to her feet. "Come on, Torrey! We're going out." Looking at the others, he said quietly, "Don't worry, I'll distract her!", and turning, he and Torrey vanished into the shadows. ******************** Crystal sat in her corner, working on Torrey's laptop. She happened to have a copy of Norton Utilities with her, and was currently running the repair utilities. She was humming "Can't Buy Me Love" as she worked. Linda walked over to her and asked "How is it? Torrey sure took this little incident really hard!" Crystal broke off her humming, and looked at Linda. "Oh, that's right, you weren't here the first day we were in Toronto. Somehow, someone really messed up her computer that first day... we never did find out the culprit." Linda sat in thought. "You know, I have a surveillance camera set up, maybe we could check to see if the culprit shows up on the tape?" She waved at Sherri, and motioned her to join them. Sherri walked over and dropped on to a nearby box. "What's up?", she asked. Linda repeated the thought about finding the culprit. Sherri thought about it. "Torrey is about at the end of her rope. Let's not make this incident a big issue. When she comes back, let's just mention the possibility to her, and see how she reacts. If she wants to pursue it, we will." Everyone nodded. The war was driving everyone nuts. They completely understood. Sherri sighed, and spoke, "Wonder what Vachon and Torrey are doing?" The Vaqueros all looked at each other. "We must have been crazy to let them go out by themselves!" ### TORREY'S TIME OUT (a) by Sherri Campbell Time: Late afternoon Place: Vachon's church Torrey looked at Vachon. Well, actually the back of Vachon's head. He was dragging her by one wrist out the back way from the church. She was unsure of the wisdom of going out with him.. well, one on one, anyway. She had always had some other Vaquero around... Her face was still streaked with tears from the incipient hysteria over her laptop being messed with again... and she really wasn't quite sure of what events had propelled her into this...adventure. Wiping her face, she decided to face the evening with fortitude. When they reached the surface, Vachon turned to her and asked if she would prefer to go to a club for dancing, or to a restaurant to eat. Torrey thought about it. It had been an absolutely wild week, she was exhausted mentally and emotionally. After all, this was supposed to be her vacation! With a decisive nod, she looked at Vachon, "Let's Party!" Vachon looked at her, and detected the manic gleam in her eyes. \\Hmm, best not go anyplace too wild. Well, I can always drag her home again..// He suggested a club that was open on Sunday evenings. It was fairly small, and inconspicuous, but had good people as clientele. Torrey nodded, Vachon looked around, then, picked Torrey up, and flew off. ### PJ'S, PJ'S, WHO'S GOT THE PJ'S? by Felicia Bollin Time: 7pm EST Place: Toronto Hilton They made quite the intriguing trio, strolling oh-so-casually down the Toronto Hilton hall. A tall, dark commanding man, clad in black turtleneck and jeans, and a plain dark baseball cap with its bill jammed almost over his eyebrows. A medium-height female with long straight brown hair ruthlessly skinned back in a braid, a navy sweatsuit, and a furtive expression, who trailed the leader with calm control leavened by just a touch of adrenaline panic. Another young man, with black hair and brown eyes, also clad in a blending black ensemble. Mirrored sunglasses deftly hid his eyes. They didn't look the least bit like kidnappers. But they planned to be. "Did you wedge the fire door open?" Lane Lombardia, Mercenary-at-large, whispered. "Check," the female, whose name was Chanda, replied. "How about the parking lot?" "I've got the keys in my pocket; I'll go down and start the motor," mirrored-sunglasses, whose name was Khaavren, replied. "And everyone's at dinner, right?" Khaavren held up the tracking device. "That's what it says." "Okay, to your stations!" The two made an immediate break for the fire door and the van, respectively. Lane attempted first a covert knock at the door. Pitching his voice just a shade higher, he called, "Guys, it's Nick. Can I come in?" Snickering a trifle to himself in satisfaction when no cries of "Oooh! Let me see! Nicky! Oh, Nicky darling! No way, I heard him first!" etc., etc. emitted from the room, he took the set of gleaming lockpicks (courtesy of someone named "Aunt Ruth", Chanda had explained as she modestly produced them) from his back jeans pocket and opened the door. It took some guts to try and kidnap something out of a hotel suite in broad daylight--- either that or a lot of stupidity, Lane reflected wryly. These Immortal Beloveds were small, but they certainly were persistent! He had to admit he couldn't quite understand the store all these groups of people seemed to put in what was, after all, merely a pair of black silk pajamas. "It's a capture-the-flag kind of thing," Ari had explained. "You know, a matter of honor." Lane couldn't quite decide if this Ari was the biggest ditz he had ever met or merely an excellent actress, but he had a feeling she probably liked it that way. It must take a really good brain to come up with this stuff. At least, he was willing to take that one on faith for the purpose of this job. Oh well, it was a favor. Served him right for trying to blackmail that clever Catherine in the first place. Now that he was in the room, it was a small matter to check luggage tags until he found one marked "Hunt". Unzipping it tooth by tooth, listening all the while for footfalls, he rummaged through, sliding his hands under layers to make it look undisturbed. And there they were, gleaming in all their glory. Lane lifted them out almost reverently, some of everyone else's silliness rubbing off on him. He grinned as he checked the tags, just to be sure. "Forty-two long, marked 'NK'--- this must be the goods!" All of a sudden, as he stood mesmerized by these items and the battle they stood for, the transponder at his belt loop started beeping. "Shoot!" Lane hissed, fumbling for the little machine. Frantically trying to maintain his cool, he looked at the grid. Great. A large green blip, vibrating just about where Lane was standing right now. He pulled the pajamas quickly on over his own clothing and prepared to plunge under the bed or into the closet. Just then, the door opened. "Lisa, are you in here? I thought you were just going to use the facilities, then I turned around and you were--- oh my goodness!" Wide eyes met wider ones, and Lane realized: there he was, looking extremely bulkier than was usual, clad in black silk pajamas *over* his neat little cat-burglar garb. Standing right in front of Nick & Natpack leader Christine Hunt. As she poised to scream, hit the phone and call security, or run back out the door, Lane moved fast. "Oh great..." Grabbing her, he shoved his hand over her mouth and ignored the "Mmmmh!" coming from her mouth. "Quiet! Listen to me!" He looked down at her. "I'm not going to hurt you, but either you come with me right now, or I'll... I'll..." he cast about wildly for inspiration, and picked up a packet of hotel matches from the dresser and held them in front of her eyes. "I'll take these pajamas and set them on fire. You got that?" A look of abject terror formed in Christine's eyes, mingling with the disgust and revulsion. she thought in horror. He hadn't been all that pleased at finding his wife had paid nearly six hundred dollars for these pajamas, she could hardly imagine his face if she told him, "Well, they went up in an ugly, messy conflagration, and the Merc who was wearing them almost went up in flames with them AND me as well, so you really shouldn't be all that mad." No, no, she couldn't see that working out too well. S**t! What could she do?! She nodded. "Good." Just to make sure, Lane took off his belt and looped her hands together, then borrowed a pillowcase for a gag and tied her feet with a towel. Slinging her over his shoulder, he looked both ways, prayed no one would come, and ran for the fire door. Chanda Keith gasped as she saw Lane straggling towards her, clad in pajamas which added about twenty pounds to the overall effect, so she hadn't been quite sure if it were him at first. But with Chris Hunt mummified and thrown over his shoulder like a sack of meal, eyes sending out lively messages, there could *be* only one. "Darn it, you weren't supposed to take her!" Chanda hissed like water droplets sizzling on a high burner, standing up from her half crouch so quickly she almost fell. Lane scowled fiercely and shot back, "Well what else could I do?! This cheap surveillance equipment 'Aunt Ruth' funded didn't let me know that anyone was coming until she was all but on top of me!" Insulted at this slur on Aunt Ruth, Chanda fired back, "Don't you drag Aunt Ruth into this War. It's just her money. She didn't *buy* it, Ari did!" "Figures!" Lane roared back. Turning on his heel and speeding for the dark blue van, he called, "You flibbertigibbets couldn't buy an electronic item to save your life! Janette's lucky the bar *blender* still works!" Passers-by gaped as Lane slung Christine into the van. "It's okay, everybody!" Chanda cried anxiously to them, on full spin control. "It's all right, we're just rehearsing a play here. Nothing to worry about!" She ran for the van, bellowing "Oh heavens! I must save Bernadette!", or something vaguely to that effect. She could also have said, "Oh Kevin!! I need to go to the vet!", no one was quite certain, but did it matter? Christine's moans increased apace as Khaavren smiled at her quite chillingly and flexed his fingers on the wheel. Under cover of a hand, he hurriedly consulted with Lane, abandoning all pretense of intimidation. "You weren't supposed to bring her!" "No kidding! But now it's up to Your Clueless Leader to figure out what to do with her!" Lane stomped over to his side and slammed the door, barely leaving Chanda her fingers. "That's it, I'm going to deliver her and that's that. My job is done. To add insult to injury, it's not like I even got PAID!" Fuming, he crossed his arms over his chest and glared ahead, before realizing that all three occupants were staring at him in shock. He sheepishly began to unbutton the pajamas. ### CHRISTINE IN THE CRUCIBLE by Felicia Bollin, with input from Christine Hunt Time: 7:30pm EST Place: Janette's apartment in the Raven "Goodness," Ari was saying as she glanced at the dress in her hands. "When did THAT get there? You know, for some reason, I don't remember much about that party on Tuesday, Catherine." "No wonder," Catherine said dryly. "You drank about three bottles of 1945 Dom Perignon, made Miklos do a tango with you, I had to take your hairpick away from you when you raised it threateningly over the back of Vachon's head--- Tracy gave you the *strangest* look then--- and I think you might have kissed Urs. Either her or Nick, someone blond. I only saw the back of the head. I'm lucky you recognized ME, let alone Lynne, Khaavren, and Gabi--- you know, this is NOT going to do much for the general public opinion of the Ravenettes." Ari dropped her head into her hands and moaned, "Oh no! Why didn't Susan stop me??!" Catherine laughed. "Are you kidding? She had her hands full with Amy-as-Janette *and* the NatPack. Come to think of it, probably no one noticed your antics juxtaposed to theirs. And there was something weird going on with the lights---" "I remember *that*," Ari laughed. "Especially the part where Amy jumped behind Nat and hissed. She was pretty convincing, wasn't she?" "I'll say. I can't imagine anyone who looks as much like Janette as she does wanting to be a *Natpacker*. I sure wouldn't," said Chanda as she entered in her hotel-skulking outfit. She pulled the venetian blind aside. "I think Lane's coming right behind me." "Here're your bloody jammies," Lane scowled as he stalked into Janette's apartment and dropped them, and Christine, at Ari's feet. Good thing there was a fainting couch there to catch her. Christine looked upwards and met a pair of amused gray-blue eyes. Her expression veered from panicked to murderous as she absorbed what must have happened. She struggled and "mmph"ed and wriggled violently and attempted to spit around her gag. Ari said, "Oh dear," and looked at Lane, eyes wide. "You didn't mention anything about bringing her." Lane opened his mouth as if to say something, lifted a hand, and then thought better of it. In a remarkably Cary Grant-like gesture, he shut his mouth and waved the hand in her direction as if to say, "Go on, don't let me stop you." Ari paced back and forth, eyes gleaming and cogs turning as she blissfully assimilated all of the delightful new possibilities this provided. Lynne came over. "She's much different than I was picturing her," the slender brunette remarked, poking at Christine very gently with a toe. Chris made another sound of deep indignation. Khaavren and Chanda straggled in, looking strangely exhilarated by their afternoon's efforts. "Nick is sleeping," Khaavren announced gleefully. "He can't come to her rescue." He rubbed his palms together. Christine thought, "What's this, a fish?" Catherine strolled over and also prodded Christine gently. Chris made a sound that was remarkably close to... no, it couldn't be. Nick&Natpackers were gently reared romantical little things. They didn't use words like that. Dismissing it as a figment of her sleep-deprived imagination, Catherine trained a speculative look on her coconspirator. "Ari? Shall I tell her what's going on?" At her nod, Catherine smiled sweetly. "Christine Hunt, you have hereby been kidnapped by the Immortal Beloveds. You know--- the faction that doesn't have any members? No _raison d'etre_?" "Yeah!" called Gabrielle, Merc and Cousin who was the newest addition to the Immortal Beloved camp--- and just the kind of enthusiastic member they wanted, too. "And there are more of us at home! Well, a couple anyway! And we have other closet members who dare not speak out, hiding in other factions!" She assumed a belligerent stance and folded her arms. "Hey Lane, nice snatch-and-grab!" she added, just then noticing her fellow Merc hiding in the shadows. Lane raised his head long enough to acknowledge it with a sickly grin, then dropped his head back on his folded arms, shutting out the world. "So what do you guys think?" Ari started strolling around Chris again, who was beginning to feel startlingly like prey. "Should we give her our demands before we take the gag out?" A chorus of yesses and noes warred with each other. "I'll take that as a yes. Christine," Ari warmed to her topic, "speaking to you, the putative leader of the Nick&Natpack--- h'm, original name, that. I guess you ladies' strong suit really isn't creativity, now is it?--- yes, I think I like CoDependents better. Well anyway, we would like to inform you that from here on out, we will not tolerate any kind of twitting about your superior membership numbers, on the list or in private." "Sounds good to me," added Chanda. Ari continued. "We also expect you to write 'Nick should be with Janette, and not that nasty old mortal Natalie,' one thousand times and fax copies of them to your fellow members." Catherine stared. Ari had never mentioned that little detail in the preliminary plans. God, but she was good on improv! "Thank Gabi, she's the one who came up with the phrase and inspired me," Ari interrupted her flow long enough to say. Then her gaze returned sternly. "These are our demands. What say you, Christine Hunt?" The whole room poised for an answer, Ari reached up and removed the gag. Christine didn't even take the time to catch her breath before she shouted, "F**k you! And untie me, you slutty fashion-victim!" Ari quirked a brow in an amused Janetteian manner. "Really? So it's getting pugnacious now, is it?" With an almost insulting catlike smirk, she prowled another circle around their captive and sighed. "Very well." She nodded to Khaavren, who rushed forward and undid the bonds. She decided she understood Janette much better now. This power-trippy stuff was fun, even without the fangs to back it up. The moment she was freed, of course Christine headed straight for the door. Sighing again, Ari merely waited. Christine drooped. Of course the door was locked. She took a deep breath. "Don't scream," Ari added. "The only people who will hear you are the Ravenettes in the main room, and when the music goes on shortly for the evening crowd, no one else will be able to either." Christine sneered. "Oh, you're just so smart, aren't you guys? You think of everything. Just like that sleazy stunt you pulled with the computers." The brow went up again. As she had spent many years trying to perfect this skill, she intended to get as much out of it as possible. "Sleazy, tacky... oh me, oh my, you Co-Dependents *do* have a way with words. Unfortunately, depending on the context, I've learned that even "wench" can sometimes be an endearment." "Wench!" Christine spat. "Courtesan, hussy, tramp, _blyat_, _puttana_ ---" "Oh yes," Ari said. "I'd forgotten. You're the teacher, no?" "Can I go now?" Lane asked in exasperation. "I think this is going to get ugly. I might join in. After all, it's not like I have any Merc reputation left to protect. Or any impression of chivalry, for that matter. At least not after slinging her around like a rucksack." "I'll praise you to the skies," Gabi assured him. "It will never leave this room." "Yes sir, you did what we assigned you to do, didn't you?" Catherine remarked briskly. "It's function, not form, that counts in this case." Lane aimed dark eyes killingly at her. "Just you wait until the next time Columbia's server goes down." With that exit line, he beat a hasty retreat through the back way. Ari walked over to the door and hit the alarm switch. "Nicolas can be so careless, can't he?" she commented aloud. "Why, he never even thought what he'd do, I'll bet, if someone decided to sneak into the loft and try to open the windows or doors. Good thing Janette installed this alarm system so that no one could inadvertently or maliciously reduce her to a pile of ash." Smiling innocently at Christine, she began again. "Now let's see, where were we... oh yes. Once more, will you yield, Christine Hunt?" "No, I won't!" Gabi, Catherine, Chanda, Khaavren, and Lynne moved on in to form a tight circle around Christine. Ari spread palms wide. "Sorry, Chris, looks like you're going to be spending a couple hours with us. One last chance..." "Never!" Christine fired up. "You'll never get me to sell the Nick and Natpack down the river! Get a life, you g*d**n overdressed mannequins! Don't waste your time, toots! In case you haven't noticed, Janette isn't even HERE, your whole cause is a lost one, get a grip and find some other archaeological dig to haunt, you dreamers!!" At the sound of this sacrilege, indrawn breaths from several people could be heard. Ari, looking remarkably like Chanda's new cat, arranged herself gracefully on the fainting couch and draped the folds of her black gown in a most becoming fashion. She also looped the pajamas challengingly around her neck and brought them precariously close to the glass of red wine in her left hand. Christine's swift intake of breath was loud as well in the now-quiet room. "Hmm," she purred silkily. "Interesting. That *could* change, Mrs. Hunt. And just what would you think if we were to tell you that Janette is COMING back?" Chris scoffed. "I called you deluded already, didn't I?" Wrong answer. Ari's facial expression didn't change, but her eyes sparkled sweetly. "Christine, I think we might be here tonight for a long, long time." She snapped her fingers. "Cassette?" Khaavren rushed over and slapped it into her hand. Turning it over and over, Ari smiled in a way Chris *knew* she didn't like. She held it up in the air between two fingers. "Christine, do you know what this might be?" Christine sniped, "It's a tape. H*ll, if you don't know that, maybe you spend your time as soused as your beloved 'Boss'." Her chin tilted boldly. Ari's eyes narrowed. "Another Bacchaic commentary on the Ravenette lifestyle? Really, I had expected more from you, Christine. Your list postings at least sound intelligent." Handing the tape to Lynne, who depressed the "Play" button, she began, "Let's start our lessons here, Christine, shall we? Oh, and you might want to thank Susan next time you see her--- she oh-so-obligingly called up some of the, shall we say, spicier scenes from 'Kind Soul' onto her computer for Catherine to transfer to tape." Christine paled. Ari smiled. "After that, we start with the Song Challenges. Lots of lovely Nick/Janette interaction there, _n'est-ce pas_? And lovely accompanying songs playing in the background. I got the idea from that *nice*, um, surprise you had waiting for my poor little laptop on Sunday. It's never heard such a criminally bad juxtaposition of music in its lifetime, poor baby." Christine placed her hands over her ears and began to hum to drown out the noise that burst forth from the speakers. Even the Immortal Beloveds winced at the equalization level, so it didn't do much good. Ari smiled again at the sight, fiddling with the reverb to give it just the right vibrato when they got to the good parts. Albeit unwillingly, Gabi and Khaavren had been impressed into adding the most colorful sound effects to Nick and Janette's, um, interaction. "Let the games begin!" she declared loudly. ### ARI AND CHRISTINE INEBRIATED by Felicia Bollin Time: Evening Place: Janette's apartment in the Raven "I'm getting worried," Lynne whispered to Khaavren under cover of a hand. He cut his dark eyes sideways at the tableau on the floor and felt distinctly uneasy. The fiction was still playing, though Gabi, in a brilliant burst of inspiration, had tied Christine's hands loosely behind her back in order to prevent her putting her fingers in her ears. She stared ahead stonily. Ari sat on the chaise longue beside her, hands clasped in her lap, head hanging dangerously close to Chris as she *peered* into her eyes. She looked fascinated and repelled at the same time. "I think we could be here all night," Khaavren admitted. It had been almost two hours already. A knock came to the door. "Go away!" they shouted in Greek chorus. A voice outside muttered, "All right, all right, already! Geez, how long will it be before I can get to my luggage?" then faded away. "Ah, Jillby is certainly a wonderful writer, isn't she?" sighed Ari in satisfaction as the second tape of Song Challenges rolled to a close. "Such a complete understanding of the complex Nick/ Janette dynamic. I must remember to commend her on that, the next time we speak. Why Christine, you don't look impressed. Ah well, maybe the next tape will change your mind. We do have three more. Why, I'll bet you didn't know that I have five floppies' worth of Janette/ Nick fiction at home." "Absolut," Christine croaked through dry lips. Ari leaned closer. "What's that you say?" "Absolut and tonic," Christine repeated, stronger. "Lime juice." Ari smiled and sat up straighter. Glancing around the room, she commanded, "Chanda. Please." Her friend came closer, not certain what had sparked this, but curious to find out. "Tell Miklos I'd like two full bottles of Absolut, one of tonic, and one of those little squeezy lime things. Also a bottle of Cotes du Rhone 1945 he was saving for creating especially fine--- blends. And anything else you guys might like." "And tell him not to worry--- I'll mix." The door opened. "Everything all right in here?" Miklos stood at the door, arms laden with bottles. Ari stared. "Boy, that vampire hearing is some stuff!" she teased. Miklos looked abashed. "Well, I didn't want any blood shed, unless I got to share." He scraped the ground almost bashfully with a foot, glancing at Christine from under thick lashes. Ari had the satisfaction of seeing that flash of alarm re-form in Christine's eyes as she herself tried to keep from bursting out in laughter and ruining his fine effect. She sidled over to him and began to pull the bottles out of his arms. At vampire-level, she whispered, "Getting a little involved in this, are we? How unusual, to find you in a playful mood! I'll bet that's the way Janette likes you best, as well." "I'll never tell." Miklos looked over at the tired Nick&Natpacker. "Are you certain you're fine with her here, Ari?" "Yes." She smiled angelically. "By the way, who was that I saw you kissing at the party?" She froze. "You're no longer helping," she hissed to Miklos. "Go away." Miklos did as he was told, grinning. Ari stared--- was that a *whistle* she had heard as he left? Good Lord, look what a little regular female attention did to a vampire. Pretty soon he would dance a jig in front of LaCroix. Shaking her head, she turned back to the business at hand. "Catherine, will you please untie our guest? And try to stay awake, I may need you to translate," she added as Christine, loosed from her bonds, began to chafe wrists feverishly and call down more Brooklyn-style imprecations on Ari's head. "My Lord, it's worse than 'My Cousin Vinny', isn't it?" Ari remarked, and mixed Christine and herself a drink, stirring them with her little finger as she finished. Christine winced at this touch, but figured, and upended half her drink. "We didn't toast," said Ari, stung. "Don't you love me anymore?" At the look Chris gave her, she relented. "All right. But I brought you this perk to sweeten your language a little, you know. After all, we're perfectly willing to keep you here as long as we need you--- somewhere." She swirled the liquid in her glass and cheerfully winked at her over the rim. Christine turned the other way. Ari waited, more than willing to let the withdrawal go on as long as was necessary for Christine to re-charge herself. A rustle came from the corner. Christine was holding out a cassette tape brought forth from the depths of her winter coat, with an uncharacteristic--- which should have immediately been suspicion enough--- meek air. "Look, if we're going to talk, I can't do it with that--- partisan stuff booming through every one of my f***in' nerve endings." Ari raised her eyebrows in response. "Please?" Christine smiled winningly. ### PUT DOWN YOUR WEAPONS by Felicia Bollin Time: Evening Place: Janette's apartment in the Raven By now, only Gabi and Catherine were anywhere near halfway awake. Aided by the fine red wine, the flickering candles, the Nick&Natpack fiction on tape, the Immortal Beloveds nodded and dozed. "The way I see it," Christine said expansively, leaning towards Ari, her body listing slightly in overcompensation, then correcting, "in terms of Nick's struggle towards mortality and away from the darkness, every time he goes back to Janette, I perceive that as backsliding. To me, Nat stands for the part of Nick's life that he wants to run toward, Janette for the part he wants to run away from." "Are we going over this ground again? Who the h*ll is dogging whom, might I ask? Why do you often seem to blame Janette equally with Nick when we're discussing things on the list? Nick has chased Janette down at the Raven time out of mind, while we've seen her at his apartment a half dozen times at best. If he's dependent on her, it's because he creates the dynamic, not Janette. He runs after her, not she after him." Ari righted herself, lifting a finger and hiccuping just slightly. "When he 'runs back' to Janette as you so quaintly put it, he's not exactly being held at fang point, you know. He *can* say no. I mean, we all know that women are Nick's besetting sin, but geez, he's supposedly got some balls. Janette doesn't exactly tie him down to get to trench his neck." "Yes I know, but Uncle's usually driven him to it. He's always there, taunting him with those f**in' pervasive monologues about the impossibility of becoming mortal and regaining any kind of goodness. Most of us have those inner voices pestering us anyway, do you think Nick really *needs* to hear LaCroix echoing it? That might drive *me* to Janette!" Christine finished. "So what? Nick hasn't a mind of his own, or willpower? It really bothers me when you guys make statements like 'Nat should have slapped Nick for drinking that glass of blood.' Why does Nick have to justify it to Nat, or anyone else? He's doing it because he *wants* to, not in juxtaposition to what LaCroix or Janette have tempted him with. He gets disappointed in the failure of his faulty panaceas, or someone beats him out on a case and lives are lost because of it, and he immediately runs for the red stuff." "Well, sure, but s**t, always running around mingling his blood with Janette won't help wean him off 'the red stuff'." Chris took a swig of her melted ice and grimaced. "Nick OWES it to Nat. She's giving up the better part of four years trying to help him, and yet he constantly works against her by backsliding. He doesn't even hide the fact that he drinks the blood anymore. He's not even discreet about it. He doesn't do it just when he's feeling disgusted. He simply chooses to, and YES, it's something he WANTS to do, but he claims to *want* to be mortal. If that's not his plan anymore, he should have the decency to let her know. Just as if he has decided that he doesn't want a relationship with her, or that he's not going to strive for that goal anymore, he should let her know that things have changed since the day he professed his love for her. Otherwise, he's playing her for a fool, and wasting precious time from HER life. She doesn't have eternity, and she's wasting her efforts, her hopes, and her love, on someone who hasn't, until recently, really appreciated her, or given her the respect she deserves." "YES!!! That's just the point!" Ari cried enthusiastically, leaning forward and almost falling on her face in the excitement. "Nick should make his wishes in the matter clear to Nat, but he doesn't, and she doesn't *ask* him! She should *call* him on it, and cut out the passive-aggressive bull. Nat certainly should know the drill well enough by now--- she goes making all these drinks and things for Nick, and he always takes one damn sip and throws the thing down the drain. It's a metaphor for the whole miserable situation; and one that Janette understands better than Nat does. Nick doesn't *want* to have to become mortal by painful cures. He doesn't even want to follow Nat's plans if it involves drinking a nasty! Janette and LaCroix have had to put up with at least five centuries of Nick's search for the magic elixir, and they know what always happens. Remember how Janette responded in The Fix? Why, just the very fact that Nick *was* so cautious about making promises to Nat about the future in Be My Valentine shows to me how many times he's been aware that these cures failed. He's hedging his bets." Ari finally wound down. "Are you finished?" Chris reached for the second Absolut bottle, upended it, and it clanked against glass depressingly. "Geez, you Sarah Lawrence graduates really can talk on for hours." She sighed. "How did you get so far ahead of me?" "I forgot to mention. I once drank my Irish friend under the table, who'd been boasting to me of her superior tolerance for months without actually testing it. I was in a reckless mood after I--- uh, failed to connect with the young man I'd been searching for, and I went back to my friends' room and she and I got into the Great Absolut Peppar Shot Competition." Christine groaned and held her stomach at this image. Ari giggled. "Yes, that's about what happened. Oh, she was doing fine as far as I knew, but after we called it a draw, the friend whose floor she'd been crashing on told me that the girl spent the whole night in the bathroom puking. *I*, however, did not." It was Christine's turn to raise an eyebrow. "Okay, so the room spun," Ari admitted. "So, was I missing something back there before you oh-so-Ravenettely diverted the conversation into alcohol comsumption anecdotes, or did you and I just *agree* on a point?" Christine regarded Ari over the rim of her glass challengingly. "Hey, let's not go whole-hog here," Ari advised. "Who are you kidding? You have to know by now that we could both out-argue each other till Nick offers to turn us." Christine remarked, slurring just a modicum. "I feel all tingly. You know, just that perfect time when you've drunk just enough to feel wonderful non-stop?" "That could be the amount of time I cut off your circulation making you tingle," Ari advised. Chris stuck out her tongue. "Stop it, stop it," complained Christine between gurgles of laughter as Ari made faces. "Don't forget: I want to get *out* of here." She looked at Ari. "You are going to let me out, aren't you." It was a question, not a statement. Ari sighed. "I suppose." She tried to sit up, then fell over with a remarkably Weeble-like gesture. From the floor, she intoned, "How's this? Truce." Thinking for a moment, she began to tick the points off on her fingers. "One: you Nick&Natpackers stop blowing your own horn about the number of members we have versus the number that you have. You can list them once a year only; you know, like a census. You know it's not easy to get new recruits for an absent vampire, so it doesn't really apply to us." "Done," said Christine with a strangely unsettling alacrity. "Anything else?" Ari thought. Aloud, she said expansively, waving a drunken hand in dismissal, "Forget the 'Nick should be with Janette, and not that---'" "Yeah, yeah, I remember, you don't have to repeat that heinous phrase again." Christine shuddered. "And in return, we will endeavor not to twit you about Nat when you guys wax too eloquent about her *mortal* charms--- as long as you're not goopy about it." "Felicia?" Christine said, flopping over onto *her* side. "Chris?" Ari was on guard, to say the least. Christine grinned, clasped her hands, and intoned, "Don't forget, as Nick said in 'Let No Man Tear Asunder', he loves each and every one of Nat's body parts." Ari hit her with a pillow. "Oh, get out---!" The two started laughing, then looked around at the sleeping Immortal Beloveds. "Should we wake them up?" Chris looked apprehensive. "Nah, why bother. It'll be a verbal compact." Ari dragged herself up from her side to her knees. "Wait a second, we need a catchphrase to remind each other of this moment when we decide to get too frisky on the list." She fell into reverie. "H'm..." Christine joined her in thought. After a few moments, she whispered in Ari's ear. "I *like* it!" "CURE SLUT!" The two high-fived each other with an evil laugh. ### ONE MO' THING... by Felicia Bollin Time: Evening Place: Janette's apartment in the Raven Ari rolled-- intentionally-- in the opposite direction. "One more thing." She bent over, nail scissors held in her lap. Christine gasped and tried to pull her arm away. Ari batted at her hand. "Shh, it won't hurt a bit. Remember, I can still towel- er, cuff your wrists again." Squealing, Christine closed her eyes as the scissors went , one single stroke. Christine opened her eyes. Turning it over and over in her hand, Ari mused aloud at the venerated object, "Well, it's something that's reversible, non?" Christine put her hands over her eyes again. "Oh no!" Ari patted the button. "Certainly you didn't expect us to go away without *some* proof that we'd managed to take the pajamas, did you?" Christine looked livid. Ari laughed and showed her the pajamas. "See, I took it from *underneath*, where they had the three spares sewn. Didn't even leave a pin dot in the fabric. You didn't really think I'd mutilate your six hundred dollar _objet d'art_, did you?" "Stranger things have happened," Christine muttered, staring at the button with covetous eyes, even though she had heretofore been unaware of its existence. "D**n you, I didn't even let my husband try them on for more than thirty seconds. I *want* that button." "To the victor belong the tokens," Ari said, "or something like. Besides, I'll give you another. If you like, I'll even sew it on." "But it's not the *same*!" Christine complained. "No, but I could have kept the whole thing and given them intact to Janette as a prize. I'm certain she'd have been most enthused. Especially with the blood sweat included," Ari added. "You wouldn't dare! That's property!" "Well okay, so I wouldn't. But I could have taken a series of pictures with all the IBs wearing them." Christine shuddered. "Or," Ari continued, warming to her topic, "I could have taken a sequence of photos showing its tag, the initials, what-have-you---" "Stop, I get the idea." Clambering to her feet, Christine stood and waited. Ari went over to the tape player and popped her tape out. Then, she did a curious thing. Ari looked at Chris. She considered it for a moment, then threw the tape of Nick&Natpack fiction up in the air, caught it neatly, and pocketed it, tossing her one of their own precious Immortal Beloved cassettes in return. Chris caught the cassette, brows going up. Ari beamed. "A gift. From you to me. As token of *our* new dynamic. Be careful--I might even have you liking French, yet." Christine smiled doubtfully, and folded the pajamas securely under her arm. Ari walked her to the door. The snoozing Immortal Beloveds would be so disappointed they'd missed it. "It's late. I'll have Miklos escort you. Miklos?" Ari gestured with a bob of her head in Christine's direction. "That's okay, I'll just call Lisa. Really." She gave a little wave. She looked at Ari. Ari was pulling the inscrutable trip again. With another smile, she waved from the doorway. "All right, then. See you at the next big affiliation hoedown, or War, whichever comes first." Her grin got wider at this thought, and her wave more exuberant. "Oh, and by the way, Christine--- there *was* something else...something Catherine wanted me to ask. Just something to leave you with, to think about until we meet again." Chris turned. Ari clasped hands demurely in front of her, looked down, then up, the Janette influence back in almost full force. "If--- Nicolas is so anxious to have a romantic physical interlude with Natalie, as the N&Npack tries with all their might to facilitate...then how do you explain that in "The Fix", when Nicolas becomes mortal for a day, his almost-first thought is to cure *Janette* as well so she can know the joy he has just discovered; while using the time to jump Natalie's bones doesn't even seem to cross his mind?" She smiled sweetly and widely, then let the iron door clang shut. Christine shook her head, the corners of her mouth tipped up. she thought, but this time, the curse was almost fond. Exiting through the fire door and towards the pay phone, she slipped cold hands into her pocket, and encountered the rounded edge of something hard. Pulling it out, she looked at it for a moment. That cursed tape. She didn't need to hear *that* drivel again. Christine held her hand over the metal wastebasket for a few endless seconds... then slipped the tape back into her pocket. Inside the room, Ari clapped her hands together and began singing and blowing kisses at the air. The Immortal Beloveds came awake at different speeds, wondering why on earth their leader was capering about in small circles kissing something in the palm of her hand. Catherine was the first to catch on. "You got it!" she squealed. Ari nodded vigorously, opening her palm to show them the button. "I think I'm gonna have it bronzed!" She executed a little time-step, humming blissfully. Miklos came to the open door, looked in, and shook his head, smiling. he thought. "Oh! Let me see!" Chanda toted the kitten over to inspect the button. "See, darling? Your namesake's gonna be so pleased. A token of our undying loyalty...." "Did we win?" Khaavren asked eagerly. Ari stopped her caper in order to answer. A reminiscent smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. "Let's say we --- had a meeting of the minds." She relayed the terms of the truce to them and wound down, collecting the IBs in a small circle around her. They were a little disappointed, but hey, who said being the leader meant always taking the mean and (usually, though not always) more fun way. Sometimes, getting to your goal just wasn't all that counted. "Kind of an anticlimax," Lynne remarked. "But not really." Ari smiled again, and shifted her position. "Ow, what's that---" Lifting it out, she grimaced. "Oh. *_ Lequel _.*" She removed the tape from her pocket, wrinkling her nose distastefully at it. "'The Other Side of Evil.' H'm..." Lifting it high in the air, she started to unravel it. The Immortal Beloveds held their breath. Ari paused. Then, her hands dropped to her lap, tape intact. "Nah. Hey, you never know." ### MILK AND COOKIES by The Lurkers Time: Right before your beddybie time In a sudden fit of generosity, the things that live under your bed have decided to send each and every person participating in the Forever Knight war a dozen chocolate chip cookies and quart of milk. The things that live under your bed hope that this will lighten everybody's mood up, bring a smile to everyone's face and give everyone energy to continue warring. [Archivist's note: You probably can't tell from reading the War posts, but believe me, we *really* needed the milk and cookies at this point.] ### ***Monday, November 13, 1995*** TORREY'S TIME OUT (b) by Sherri Campbell Time: 6am Place: A club in Toronto Vachon's hair was wilder than usual. He couldn't believe that Torrey had tried to braid part of it when he wasn't looking. Just because that blonde in the mini-skirt had been dancing in front of him, and he happened to be looking that direction.... next he knew, his hair was being braided, and Torrey! Calm, fairly sensible Torrey, was singing limericks! Limericks! To the tune of "99 Bottles of Beer!" Obviously, Torrey had forgotten her pain over her sick little laptop. Actually, he suspected Torrey had forgotten everything but her name, and he really wasn't sure about that! \\Definitely time to call it a night!// "Hey, Torrey?" No response. "Torrey!" She looked at him. "What say we go back to the church, and maybe play some poker?" Torrey thought about it. Slowly. She nodded. "Ok, Vachon, I'll be glad to show you how to play poker! Let's go!" Vachon pulled her to her feet, and towed her out of the club. Looking around, he realized it was nearly 6 am. \\Time to go home anyway...// Gathering Torrey into his arms, he took off, heading for home. * * * * * * * An early rising pedestrian was walking for her health in the older part of Toronto. At 6 in the morning very few people were out to pester her. Suddenly, she heard the sound of "99 Bottles of Beer" being sung in a wobbly voice. She looked around and could see no one. The sound faded and was gone. The pedestrian looked around once more, and shrugged. Toronto was getting stranger by the day. Especially around this area by that old church. ### THE BIRTH OF AN IMMORTAL BELOVED Or: A Cousin Goes Ballistic by Gabrielle Stendell Time: Sunrise Place: Merc Central Cousin Gabi eased herself into her favorite lounge chair and sighed sleepily. She looked down at her black velvet dress and grimaced at the debris that now covered it. "Sheesh...and I *still* don't know what souvlaki is! Oh, well, doesn't matter. Whatever it is, it *can't* be better than beignets!" Suddenly, Gabi noticed a box resting innocently next to the chair. "Wonder what that is?" Gabi thought cheerfully. "Ooh, it's for me!" she giggled. Apparently, the mysterious package had been forwarded from her permanent home in the South. "Now how on earth did they know where to find me?" Gabi shrugged. Probably just another grateful customer. "Wait!" her mind screamed. "Remember the _last_ time you thought something was from another grateful customer?" How could she forget? The Godiva chocolate...the Deli...the Ribena... the carnage, the horror, THE ENDLESS LOOP OF "BAD BLOOD"!!!!! Oh, it was all too awful!!!!! "Oh, c'mon," Gabi muttered. "They wouldn't try _that_ again!" She ripped into the box enthusiastically to find...nothing. "What? Is this some kind of joke?" Gabi reached further into the depths of the box. POP! went the box. "EEEK!" went Gabi. Thousands of Q-tips flew all over the stylishly-decorated room. A manic light entered Gabi's stormy grey eyes. "Soooo..." she chortled, "_this_ is the game they're playing." She began laughing wickedly, furiously plucking Q-tips out of her ringletted hair. A feral growl, vintage Cousin, emanated from her smooth white throat. She leaned over the box and picked up a piece of sickeningly sweet pink stationery covered in cute little hearts. "Have a nice day! Love, the Natpack," she read, her voice sinuously seductive. "Well...how SWEET!" she roared. Then, the most ordinary of things happened. The phone rang. "Yeeeeeeess?" hissed Gabi. "What...do...you....WANT?!!" "Ummm...Gabrielle? Is that you?" a hesitant voice asked. "Felicia! How wonderful to hear from you! You're _just_ the person I wanted to speak to!" "I am? Well, Gabi, I was calling about that mission...are you still interested?" "Of course!" Gabi replied, a bit too quickly. "In fact...I want to do more than just work for you. I want to _join_ you!" "You? A cousin *and* mercenary? An Immortal Beloved? I don't know..." "Why not?" Gabi asked desperately. "_Uncle_ wants Nick back. _Janette_ wants Nick back. Uncle and Janette are family! Why, it's perfectly logical! And I always have thought that _mortal_," Gabi spat, "is a bad influence on Janette's Nicky." "I don't think the Ravenettes are going to be very happy about this..." "Felicia...you don't understand! The Natpack...they....they...well.... they Q-TIPPED ME!!!!!!!! Can you believe it?? They're gonna pay! You need to let me in!! Please?" "Well..." "Yes! Thanks, Ari! I'm eternally grateful!" Felicia sighed. "Oh, alright. You can join us. Meet us at the Raven in half an hour." The line went dead. Gabi smiled ominously. They *would* regret what they would done. ### LOOKING FOR NATALIE by Amy Hull (and the NatPack) Time: Morning Place: Toronto "What good is this going to do anyway? She's been missing for over three days already; there's not going to be any information to find," Amy asked despairingly, sulking with her chin on top of the NatMare she was hugging. "I just can't believe it took everyone so long to figure out she was gone," Jill said. "Well, we *were* all preoccupied with being in some *serious* trouble," Sharon began. "Or were in the hospital," Valerie piped up. She and Jennie still looked pretty bad, but seemed relatively functional. "And so *now*, we've got to start looking for her," Sharon continued. "Even if it's been three days, no one has been *really* looking, so if there are any clues still there, *someone* has to find them." "Now you're beginning to sound like Susan," Jennie muttered. "She's right, though," Jill said, beginning to really warm to the idea. "Okay, let's get this on the road. Where do we need to check?" Sharon took a deep breath. *Finally*, they were going to actively work on solving this problem. "First thing is to check the Coroner's Building--ask people there, ask people in the area, canvas the streets surrounding--generally see if there are any clues we can find where she was last seen. We also need to check at the precinct to see if there is anything they know. And we should check with other local law enforcement types, see if they've heard about anything strange that could be connected." "Great!" Jill bounced to her feet. "I'll check with the police. Valerie, you wanna come too?" "Sure," Valerie said, doing a slow cat-stretch before standing. "And we can check with the RCMP," Leslie volunteered after quickly conferring with Betsy. "Yeah, but you'd better not take Jennie along; you know how she is around Mounties," Amy said mischievously. Jennie made a face at her. "Sounds like a plan," G.T. announced. "I'll check Chinatown." "I'll come too," Amparo volunteered. "I'd better go with them," Jennie added, giving Amy a satisfied look. "Someone will have to keep them out of trouble there." "Someone has to stay at the apartment in case Nat calls or someone calls about her," Selma pointed out. "Why don't I do that?" She yawned, laying her head back against her pillow. "Good, and Amy, Kim, and I can cover the Coroner's Building," Sharon finished. "Let's get to it. And Jennie and Valerie, do *not* overdo. Come back here to rest if you fell bad." They (of course) agreed, and everyone else (of course) knew they had not intention of doing any such thing till their respective areas were totally covered, but at least it had been said. ***** "We're looking for a lady," Kim said earnestly to the vendor. "You may have seen her around here a lot, but we want to know if you saw her anytime early last Thursday. She's about this tall--" Kim held up a hand to indicate, "mid-thirties, curly brown hair, blue eyes--" "That woman does *not* have blue eyes," Amy interrupted emphatically. "But she does look like anime come to life," Sharon interjected, hoping to distract Amy from her latest favorite tirade. "Anime?" Kim asked. "That's true," Amy said, grinning. She turned to the vendor. "Do you remember seeing her?" The vendor shook his head and moved on. "Anime?" Kim asked again, frowning. "Well, that about takes care of it," Amy sighed. "Yeah. We've asked everyone at the building, along the streets. We'll just have to get a hold of the people you wrote down who they said were here but aren't working today." Sharon checked along the edges of the sidewalk, hoping to see anything suspicious. "I don't think we're going to find anything more here," Kim agreed, giving up on her unanswered question. "No. These guys were pros," Sharon said. "We're going to just have to wait till they contact us or make their next move." "I hate to wait," Amy said. "I hate it." ***** "Well, that accomplished absolutely nothing," Leslie complained. "At least we got to look at several of the guys in their nice Mountie outfits," Betsy said, smiling broadly. "That's true." Leslie smiled at the memory. "But they just don't measure up to Fraser," she added seriously. "They're not bad, just not quite *that* nice." "Let's get back to the apartment. Maybe one of the other found something more useful." They both ran for the bus that had just pulled up to the curb. ***** "What a total washout," Jill complained. "Not that I really expected anything else. If they're so impressed with Nick at the precinct, *why* should I think that anyone else would be any *more* effective?" "Well, at least now we know for sure that we don't know anything.... God, I've been around Amy for too long!" Valerie sighed. She was getting tired, and since their part of the search was done, they could head back to Natalie's and wait for the others. "Let's get back," Jill said before Valerie could continue. "Taxi!" ***** Amparo, G.T., and Jennie walked through the doors of a familiar building in Chinatown. An older Asian gentleman approached them. "How may I help you?" he asked gently. "We're looking for Caine," Amparo explained. "I am sorry. Peter is not here right now." "No, no," Mary G.T. corrected. "We're looking for Kwai Chang Caine--Peter's father." "Yeah," Jennie added, "We need help." G.T. glared at her. "Oh, I'm sorry, neither Caine is here. They are out of town for a few days." "Oh," the three women chorused sadly. Then, also in unison, although their stresses fell on different words, they said, "Maybe you could help us." The older gentleman smiled. "What is your problem?" "We've lost a lady--she's about 5'5", mid-thirties, brown curly hair, hazel eyes--" "Good thing you didn't say blue," Jennie muttered. G.T. glared at Jennie again and continued "We were hoping you might know of someone who might have heard about her. She's been missing since Thursday." "I myself have heard nothing about anything like this. If you would like, I can give you a list of names of people to check with," he offered. "That would be great," Amparo said quickly. Less than an hour later, they had covered the sadly short list and were still completely without a lead. "I'd have thought he'd have more information for us," Amparo said, disappointment clear in her tone. "Yeah, isn't he supposed to be more helpful?" Jennie asked. She never got her answer, because at that moment, G.T. grabbed her arm, staring. "Wait here for just a second," G.T. said, hurrying quickly away. Jennie and Amparo watched her as she approached a tallish, dark-haired man who had the distinctive air of a government type and dark glasses. "It's not easy being green..." Jennie murmured. Soon G.T. headed back toward the others. As soon as she'd joined them she said grimly, "Well, he doesn't know anything about what's going on, and at this point, I'd say if he doesn't know, no one knows--at least not anyone *we're* going to be able to contact." "Okay, so what's next then?" Jennie asked. "We get you back to the apartment," G.T. said firmly. "You look like hell." "Really?" Jennie asked. "At least I'm consistent. I feel like hell too." "And what does hell feel like?" Amparo queried as they sat at the bus stop. ***** One by one the groups reported, once the last few NatPackers had straggled in. "Nothing." "Nothing." "Nope." "No calls." "Nada, niente, zippo." "Glad to know we all at least got the same results," Sharon said. "Yeah," Jennie agreed. "At least we know that our data is consistent with itself." "Jennie, you need sleep!" Selma pointed out. "We *all* need sleep, Selma," Jennie said, then added as Selma opened her mouth to reply, "Except you." ### DEATH BECOMES ME by Julie Randolph Time: 3:37pm EST Place: "Toronto Star" Cousin Julie "CJ" Randolph was found in the home of nightly radio talkshow personality Lucien "Nightcrawler" LaCroix yesterday evening. Apparently the victim of a bizarre accident involving a jetliner crashing through the roof of the house, pinning Randolph to an easychair, the death has been ruled accidental at this time according to police on the scene. Randolph is survived by absolutely no one to speak of, for the exception of a strange black-clad group of followers who have set the memorial at midnight tomorrow in the Toronto Cemetary. ******************** * * * * * Cousin Julie * * 1971-1995 * * * * She was a psychotic * * weirdo with strange * * taste. * * * * * * Taken befor her time * * by forces stronger * * than you all. * * She will be missed * * by someone. * *********************************************** * * * R. I. P. * * * *********************************************** ### COFFEE TALK by Dianne la Mercenaire and Lana Soward Place: DieHard Headquarters Leah reached for the ringing phone, "Die-Hard Corporation. ...*Who*?" --------------------- "Dianne la Mercenaire," the woman repeated slowly and deliberately to the guard at the front desk. Once again he repeated it into the phone. He then nodded and hung up. Turning to the Merc, he indicated someone was on their way down. "Don't tell me *you* want to defect now?" Dianne glared in the direction of the approaching woman. "I'm here to speak with Lana Soward." "And I'm supposed just to let *you* in?" "If I were plotting something would I have come to the front door?" Leah looked unconvinced, after all this was war, and what better way to look innocent than to...well...look innocent? Lana had said it was o.k., but Leah was still less than thrilled. "O.k., but you'll have to leave any weapons at the door." "Sorry," Dianne smirked, "I'm armed only with my brain. And *that's* coming with me!" There was another pause. Then Leah turned around and led the way upstairs. --------------------- "Yes, I understand... I don't think that'll be a problem... Yes it was pretty rough last week, but we'll be glad to have her back," Lana hung up the phone and turned to greet the Merc. "Dianne! It's such a pleasure to finally meet! I've heard so much about you." Lana reassured a still-nervous Leah that she would be safe in the Merc's company. (At least she _hoped_ she'd be safe!) "Would you like some coffee?" Dianne's eyebrow rose, "You have *coffee*?" Lana smiled knowingly, "We're Die-Hards. Never know how many people will come seeking sanctuary during one of these wars, so Jane stocked up on _all_ of the important staples beforehand." Dianne returned her smile, nodding. "Excellent. But I can't stand the stuff myself. Got any cocoa?" --------------------- Half an hour later, Lana was handing Dianne her coat. "Thanks. I keep forgetting the little 'weather' details, being from sunny L.A. and all," Dianne admitted. Feeling an odd weight as the coat rested on her shoulders, she slipped her hand into the right pocket. "Consider it a gift," said Lana with a smile. "It always pays to have a friendly merc in your corner." Dianne looked down. A half-pound of dark Viennese Roast. In caffeine-starved, war-torn Toronto she could make quite a nice profit off that. She smiled wickedly, "A pleasure doing business with you!" ### REVENGE IS SWEET by Judith Freudenthal Time: Evening Place: Somewhere with a phone and some privacy Judy looked around to make sure the coast was clear before she made her telephone call. She dialed the number from a slip of paper in her hand. "Hello, I'd like to place an order. I'd like it delivered to several addresses." She read off the list of addresses and the credit card number, thankful that neither she, Nick or Nat would have to pay for it. "I'd like to send every person on the list an old fashioned wooden sleigh with the metal runners. I would like a red rosebud painted on each. I'd like your fastest service, I need them there within the next 24-48 hours." She waited while the lady checked. "You can, that will be great. Thank you." She hung up and made her next call. "Hello. I'd like a single white rosebud in a rosebud vase sent to all the people on my list and charged to this credit card." She said as she again read off the list of names and the credit card number. "They'll be there by tomorrow. Great. Thanks." She made her final call. "Maryann, its Judy. The little gifts we discussed for the Cousins are all set. The best part is that I got his gold card number and charged it all to him." "That is truly wicked, but great work. How did you...." "I happened to run into a Cousin and my ability to read upside down came in handy. She was charging her purchases and I happened to glance at the card." "Remind me never to go shopping with you, especially if you're mad at me." Maryann said. "Don't worry, I won't do that to you." She hung up and left, smiling to herself, thinking about the Cousins and LaCroix's expression when it was delivered. It would be next to impossible to trace. Delight crossed her face when the thought of LaCroix seeing the bill for it all. ### INCIDENTS (Part 1) by Patricia (Aerin) Hanson Place: The Raven They were all sitting at a table in a dark corner of the Raven. It was something about this little group. They always had to have their backs to the wall, be able to observe the movement of humanity, and in general make fun of them all or at least each other. "Hey D.L. go easy on me. Did you honestly expect me to come to a town where virtually nobody knows me and BEHAVE myself?" "No but I thought you'd stop at skipping in public places, wading in fountains, singing at the top of your lungs all through Eaton's Centre, and stealing that guys pop off his table." "Can I help it? I was in a loop." "Did you have to hug Lacroix?" "I think that's the source of all his angst you know." Lois & D.L. looked at each other. "What?" they asked, not sure they wanted to know since Aerin's mind worked in wierd or wonderful ways, never both. "I think he needs more human contact, look at how Nick has benefited from it." "She's a cousin," D.L. said, Lois looked like she needed reminding. D.L looked over at a nearby table."LOIS LOOK!!" "What?" "Over there?" "Where?" D.L. glared & jerked her head, she wasn't about to point her finger. That would obvious not to mention rude. Lois gasped, "Boy does he ever look like Duncan." "Who? What?" Aerin looked completely in the dark. She hated that the other 2 got at least 20 more channels than her. Oh to have a satellite. She never got half their jokes. "That guy looks exactly like Duncan MacLeod from the Highlander," D.L. rhapsodized. Aerin did not look impressed, never having seen the TV version. D.L. suddenly grinned, "Do you dare me to?" "What?" "Go over and ask for his autograph?" "But that's not Adrian what's his face," Lois informed her. D.L. looked disgusted, "I know that, but do you dare me to?" Aerin had clued in now and was grinning like an idiot. That grin was all the encouragemant D.L. needed. She got up and went over to the guy's table, fixed her jet black gypsy hair, and straightened her overlarge poet blouse. She flashed an evil smile back at the other 2. Lois was waiting in agony, expecting horrible results. Aerin goaded her forward, expecting horrible results. Yes she was a cousin. "Excuse me sir, may I have your autograph?" The strange man just looked at her like she'd just lost her mind. Perhaps she had. D.L. was nothing if not persistent, "You see, you look exactly like Duncan MacLeod." Those words drew the notice of several women at nearby tables, a few gasps were audible, whispering ensued. The man looked over at the table where Lois & Aerin remained. He was clearly asking them if D.L. was deranged. Lois groaned, shaking her head. Aerin cracked up. First it was a twitch of the lips, a slight tremor of her shoulders, then a incorrigible grin. D.L. continued, causing the man to look back at her, "I would be deeply honored if you would just sign this napkin." The man just kept glancing from D.L. to Lois & Aerin, who were both shaking by now. D.L. made the mistake of looking over too. Her composure was lost, her shoulders started shaking. "Please may I have your autograph, if it wouldn't be too much trouble." There was movement from the nearby tables, a stampede was building toward the poor Duncan look alike. It was time to make their move. D.L. was surrounded by women, trapped. Lois & Aerin struggled through, determined to save their friend. They each grabbed an arm, dragging her out of the mass of people possessing 2 X chromosomes. They finally stumbled through the door & had to pause to get their eyesight adjusted. Aerin was doubled over laughing. D.L. thumped her on the back, "If you hadn't started laughing that would have been fine?" "Oh, oh, oh I'm sorry, buh...buh...buh...but the look on his face was just so PRECIOUS. I couldn't help myself," Aerin gasped. "Do you think we'll ever be allowed back in there?" Lois wondered, forcing Aerin to sit on the ground, & digging through her purse until she found her inhalers. After a couple of puffs Aerin nodded, "Sure I don't think anybody saw that it was us?" D.L. shook her head, "And people wonder why we're the Lone Pack." ### ***Tuesday, November 14, 1995*** PAYOFF by Lana G. Soward and Dianne T. DeSha Time: Noon Place: Merc Central Dianne jumped up suddenly from where she'd been playing her new "Hounds and Jackals" computer game and moved to the radio, turning the volume up high...she'd been _waiting_ for this... ,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, Over the driving beat of "Let's Get Physical," a breathy female and intoxicated male voice spoke. "Hum." "What?" "Oh." "How faithless you are." "Drop 'em" "See here..." "C'mon" "Maybe you should concede defeat..." [The breathy voices continue:] "I win." "You win." "This game is over." "Take me!" ,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, As the announcer gave the address and hours, Dianne was nearly rolling on the floor laughing. A little tape mastering, a few forged contracts with the account information off of LaCroix's own computer and it had all been taken care of. She didn't even know who was going to be affected: If the Ravenettes still had the Raven, they would be mighty annoyed... a shame, that, but it was a chance she had had to take. If *LaCroix* had it back...well then it served him right! But either way the new commercial would be played at saturation frequency on the top three radio stations in Toronto until further notice. When the doorbell rang, Dianne bounded to the door. She'd had been waiting for *this* delivery ever since she'd finished her last contract. Throwing open the door there stood the UPS man. He consulted his clipboard. "Dianne la Mercenary?" asked the man, mangling the name. "Yes." "Sign here." Dianne quickly signed and took possession to three boxes, all bearing the logo of the Trellis Restaurant. She bore them into the kitchen, with proper reverence. The payments had been getting excessive of late. Hundreds of this, lots of that. This was perfect, expensive in it's simplicity. She opened the large box first. Inside was a label that said "Chocolate Devastation". Opening the inner styrofoam box, Dianne almost fainted at the smell that emanted from the cool contents. A smell of premium chocolate, bittersweet ganache, and the hint of the chocolate whiskey-soaked raisin ice cream, wafted out of the box and floated through the room. Quickly she stowed the container in the ample merc freezer, along with one of the other boxes. She then turned to the last. This were the crowning payment. Death by Chocolate. Reverently, she opened the box. Sitting within crushed ice was Death by Chocolate. She could see the chocolate mousse as it lay swirled on top. She reached in with a finger and gently scooped up a tiny bit. She stuck it into her mouth, allowing the chocolate favor to flow over her palate like a fine wine. She closed her eyes. It was even better than she had hoped. She reached in and removed the cake from the box. Chocolate ganache was swirled all over the sides. Resisting the urge to taste again, Dianne reached into a drawer and removed a knife. With the skill of a diamond cutter, she carefully cut herself a slice. Deftly flipping it on a plate, she gazed at the seven layers. She picked up a fork and prepared to taste. Suddenly, another Merc walked into the kitchen. "Oooh, cake," she drooled. The knife that Dianne had used to cut the cake, was suddenly back in her hand. "It's mine," she snarled. "It's all MINE!" ### THE COUCH TRIP by Dawn Steele Time: Afternoon Place: The Queen Street Mental Health Centre Dawn stared at the ceiling and counted dots. She was still a bit uncomfortable talking to Adrian -- Dr. Wetmore. Still... //I've gone from completely around the bend to having my head pretty much straightened out in 3 days.// She smiled and started flipping through the ink blot tests again. //He's a miracle worker. Who know's how long it would have taken him if my insanity wasn't caused by an unfortunate need to be absent from war participation and over enthusiastic co-DieHards.// Dawn snuck a look over at Adrian. //Maybe I shouldn't tell him that.// Dr. Adrian Wetmore looked up from his desk and perused his latest (and weirdest) patient. It had been a tough three days and he was privately amazed at the speed of her turnaround. //I'm still not sure about letting her out tomorrow. She's still convinced that there have been 'mysterious strangers' following her around for the past couple of weeks, but...// "How are you feeling this morning?" "Pretty good." Dawn stared determidly at the ceiling. It hadn't helped her recovery that Adrian Wetmore was the spitting image of Duncan MacLeod. "I remember most of what's happenned in the past week... I just can't believe I did those things." Adrian adjusted his tie, still slightly nervous about being in the same room with her. "And your fixation with *cough* Duncan MacLeod?" Dawn shot him a quick glance and then her eyes went back up to the ceiling. If you looked hard enough, you could start to find interesting patterns. "Unfortunately, Duncan MacLeod is a character in a tv series." Dawn sighed. "The fantasies were fun while they lasted, but I'm not sorry to have gotten rid of my worries about 'evil immies of the week'." She gave a sad laugh. "I'm not sorry to have been rid of those giggling fits either. My diaphram is finally starting to recover." Adrian brought over a few pictures and handed them to her. "Now... who are these people?" Dawn flipped through them. "You know Adrian... Reality is a funny thing. You start play-acting and sometimes you forget what's reality and what's imaginary." She slowly flipped through the photos. "That Nick Knight... Lucien LaCroix... Natalie Lambert... Lana Soward... Perri Smith..." Dawn handed the photos back to him. "They're all members of a giant role-playing game that started in Toronto two weeks ago." She said softly."Nick Knight, Javier Vachon and Lucien LaCroix are people pretending to be vampires. The rest of the players pretend to side with one group or another and play stategy games again each other." "But you know what's reality and what isn't now?" "Of course. There's no such thing as vampires after all." Dawn said with firm conviction. "No such thing at all." ### INCIDENTS (Part 2) by Patricia (Aerin) Hanson Time: Afternoon Place: Toronto The Lone Pack decided to take a walk in one of the parks to give Tyler time to stretch his legs. He'd been walking around with his leash in his mouth & laying a paw on Aerin's knee, until she broke down & just had to take him out. He was such a cute dog, rarely barked, and those eyes..... just the right combination of love, cheer, and begging that tore your heart out. "You know something, you 2 have each had a turn to be nuts while we were here." "You know you are perfectly welcom to join us at anytime in the Loop," Aerin said perfectly serious,like she was doing a favor to Lois. D.L. grinned, "We should come up with something for you to do so you don't feel left out." "But it has to be spontaneous, or else it won't be the same thing," Lois complained. Aerin's brow furrowed as she pondered the situation, while playing tug of War with Tyler. He loved nothing better than grabbing one end of the leash & having someone else pull on the other end. "We could come up with something, we always do," D.L. said. Aerin nodded, as she finally got the leash away from Tyler, swinging it high above the ground so he had to jump to try and get it. "Yeah just look at how often we get yelled at in the SUB to quiet down." Lois agreed but was still trying to come up with something then their friend from UNB, Susan, walked up to them bringing her dog Pepper who looked like the coffee table version of a German Shephard. She looked at Aerin and said one word, "Marbles." Aerin started smiling evilly, "Absolutely perfect!" She began looking for a likely victim. While Susan explained the purpose behind the word "marbles" Aerin did a tour of the park until she spotted him sitting on a bench eating his lunch. He was wearing an ultra conservative suit, complete with the requisite briefcase & news paper. He was completely oblivious to the world around him. He wouldn't know what hit him. *** Seeing the sparkle in Lois' eyes, Aerin was certain that Lois was willing to go along with the "marbles" plan. It was time to play with the minds of Toronto's leading citizens. "Lois, are you up for this? No laughing or it'll ruin it," Susan warned. After several deep breaths, Lois thrust back her shoulders and pronounced herself ready for her mission. Aerin pointed her at their intended victim, immediately Lois started laughing. Several minutes later, back under control, Lois wandered over to the area where the Suitman was eating his sandwich, with several other mambers of the suitman/woman club. If you looked very carefully you could see her shoulders shaking. The other 3 looked at each other not sure how long Lois could hold out. She was such an open, cheerful person (though not perky) that they didn't think she'd manage to do it with out laughing for very long. Suddenly Lois dropped to her hands & knees, desperately running her hands through the grass. Operation "marbles" had begun. Lois looked up at Suitman, "Excuse me sir, can you help me find my marbles? I seem to have lost my marbles." The man looked at her like she had lost had indeed lost her marbles. "Please sir, their quite imprtant to me, I need to find my marbles." Suitman edged away from her on his bench. Lois jumped up and grabbed the lapels of a passerby, "Please, I've lost my marbles. I have to find my marbles." He just brushed her hands, and kept going glancing back furtively every couple of steps. Several people nearby were laughing, thinking it was a skit put on by the recreational apartment. "I just can't function in the world with out my marbles," Lois wailed, using some of Aerin's psychobabble from guidance class. Noticing someone reach for their cellular phone the Lone Pack decided it was time to move in. "Pardon me sir, we'll just look after her now. She's not a threat to society. Really she isn't," Aerin said to Suitman. "There, there dear we'll by you some nice new marbles. We'll just take you home and tomorrow we'll get you some new ones." "But I want MY marbles. I've lost my marbles." The four young women from UNB walked quickly into the woods, Lois still calling loudly "I've lost my marbles. I've seem to have lost my marbles. Would you help me find my marbles?" ### PAWNS AND PLAYERS by A.M. Marcoux Time: After sunset Place: Toronto He'd been waiting for this moment since Wars began. He decided to savour it. Andria was asleep, unaware that destiny had come calling in the form of a two thousand year old vampire named LaCroix. She had only the barest glimmer of the power of her own duality, her ability to exist on the board and above it. She was a player, and that made her a being of unlimited potential. She was a pawn, and that made her his. He sat down on the edge of the bed, pushing aside the laptop computer, ready to claim the ultimate weapon as his own. "Wake." She didn't. He jostled the bed and commanded her again. "Wake." She slept undisturbed, so he decided to abandon all pretense of subtlty. "WAKE UP!!!" Nothing. His eyes were drawn to the laptop, and he quickly powered it up in search of clues. ============================================================= Journal November 3, 1995 6 AM i should've kept up on my reading. assuming that the raven was a good place to find both list members and assorted fictional vampires, i decided to look it up. it existed alright, so i went down for a visit. it was closed until further notice. when i got back to the hotel and started catching up on my mail, i discovered that, among other things, the cousins and the ravenettes were playing a game of tit for tat that resulted in the raven being both repossesed and shut down in the space of a few hours. it got me to thinking: why am i here? i wanted to prove to myself that i'm not nuts, and i think i've done that. someone *else* wrote about the raven closing, and it was true before i read it, so it's not just me. or maybe it is. i'm not the only person experiencing this blend of truth and fiction, but maybe i'm the only one who *knows*. it's six in the morning, i'm exhausted but not tired and i just got a horrible vision of my future as a Wartime power broker or worse yet, being "recruited" by the mercenaries and endlessly backdating posts for the highest bidder in a neverending war... i know what i want and that's not it. i think it's time to write another story... >War V >Sleeping Booty >by A.M. Marcoux >She had been granted her heart's desire. Her stillness was unnatural, >her resperation barely detectable and her rest beyond bliss. >And she had a visitor. >He'd been waiting for this moment since Wars began. He decided to savour >it. >Andria was asleep, unaware that destiny had come calling in the form of a >two thousand year old vampire named LaCroix... ============================================================= He snapped the laptop shut. He didn't need to read anymore to know that her sleep was enchanted, and that there was only one way to wake her. He slowly, slowly lifted himself off the bed, edged to the open window and flew away as fast as vampirically possible. ### SNOOZE BUTTON UP, SNOOZE BUTTON DOWN Or: Doze to Your Left, Three, Four and Doze to Your Right, Five, Six... Alarm On, Alarm Off... Big Snore, Daniel-san, Biiiig Snore by the Morrigna, e.m. and Bianca Hall Time: 8pm EST Place: Evil Black Caddy Sound Stage 37 or Fe-Malefaction HQ Toronto Canada Earth Milky Way Q's Fishbowl Bianca snorted awake. "Huh? What? Did you say something, Bud?" erica, one arm curled about Lucius the Bust and slack mouth next to its ear, mumbled, "Get it on, Lu. The list's dying to know... briefs or boxers...? Move, Sandra, you're blocking my view... Mercs, pan to the left a little..." Bianca nudged her sister, trying to shut her up - unsuccessfully. "Professor Nagy...? I need a grad school recommendation... No, i have no idea how that $100 bill got stuck to the form but, hey, why don't you keep it...? GRE, schmee RE. i should just stick it you ETS sadists..." erica settled back into silence. Bianca grunted and rolled over, snuggling farther into the Caddy's back seat. And so the two continued to doze and the War waged on around them. ### ***Wednesday, November 15, 1995*** AN AUCTION IS ANNOUNCED Time: 6am EST Place: Your Mailer The Bartley House is pleased to announce that three very special items have been placed with us for a private FK auction. The auction will be a blind bid auction. A blind bid auction is where each bidder submits a bit without knowing what the other parties are bidding. Each faction, character, or private party, may submit a bid. The highest bid will win. Bids must be submitted in dollar figures. Virtual chocolate is not an acceptable form of currency. All bids must be sent to waraddr@aol.com. The subject heading must include the words. AUCTION BID. All bids MUST be received by 6am, November 17, 1995. After the bids have been tabulated and compared, the top bidder for each item will be awarded the documents, providing they are adequately able to meet the monetary obligations. The announcement of the successful bidders will take place that the Expo Center, at 8pm November 17, 1995. The items are: 1.) A bound leather journal book of erotic fiction, written by a Natalie L. Much care and attention has been paid to the making of this book. Each entry has been hand-written, and all drawings have been authenicated as being absolutely, hand-drawn, no computer generation. 2.) A book of famous and not-so-famous women complete with numerous pictures and a rating system. Bartley House beliefs that this rating system covers several categories: including, personal appearance, personality, and intelligence. This comprehensive listing starts with a Gwynth circula 1226 all the way through to the 1990's to a woman only known as NL <- no name was available at the time this goes to press, but our researchers are currently working on this small detail. 3.) A family tree, done in brilliant colors and completely hand-drawn. This family tree traces direct descendants for almost two thousand years, from the fall of Pompeii to present day America. It is unique in that it traces it's descendents entirely through the female line from it's male ancestor. As stated above, All bids MUST be received by 6am, November 17, 1995 at the address Waraddr@aol.com. Sincerely, Warren J. Bartley Bartley House Auctions. Waraddr@aol.com ### E STANDS FOR "EVIL" MAIL by Susan M. Garrett Time: Mid-morning Place: The Raven Someone was knocking. Susan rolled over, soundly thumped her head against the wall, and started awake in the darkness. It took her a moment to realize exactly where she was and that someone was knocking on the outside of the closet door. "Hang on," she called sleepily. "Damn vampire steals my table and now my closet's being invaded. Geez, you can't get a moment's rest in this place--" After she found the handle and opened it, she peered up at Jasmine and said, "This better be the end of the world. Either that, the Boss is here, or the bar's on fire." "Better," promised Jasmine. Sitting down beside the closet, she handed Susan a piece of paper and drew her legs up against her chest. "It's too good to be true." Susan just stared at her for a long moment. "Maybe us having the only supply of coffee in Toronto wasn't such a good idea. You're entirely too cheerful." "Read!" instructed Jasmine, tapping the back of the paper. It was a print out from the Raven's e-mail. Susan scanned the paper once, hit the entry about Natalie's fantasy diary, then started from the top again. "This has to be somebody's idea of a joke." Jasmine shook her head. "Nope--it's on the level. Had Lloyd's of London confirm it . . . they're insuring delivery of the objects." Susan sat back and went 'thunk' on the floor of the closet. Scrambling quickly to her knees, she managed to lean against the door frame as tiny gray cells combusted in a semblance of cognition. "Do you know what we could do with this? I mean--print excerpts on cocktail napkins, jack the drink price up a couple of bucks per drink and give out one napkin per drink .. . we'd make a bloody fortune!" "We also have to give the bar back to LaCroix on Saturday, "reminded Jasmine. "And if we're going to spend Friday night drinking up the comestibles, we don't want to charge anyone . . . ." "Giving LaCroix back an entirely dry bar is too good to pass up." Susan blinked. " Don't tell me--you stole Nick's 'word-a-day' calendar, didn't you?" "Well, wasn't using it." "That's true." Susan looked over the paper again. "What a dream! It would be a a great ace in the hole for the next war. And the auction's Friday, right before we induct our new members into the group. So we get the book, come back here and get spiffed, then spend the night getting squiffed." "Ah, but what about the ?" asked Jasmine pointedly. "Ouch." Susan thought for a moment and let her gaze wander the length of the bar, until she caught sight of one of the glass-encased super-soakers. "Miklos?" "I knocked on the door. I think he said 'Go away' in Hungarian. Either that or 'Make it stop, please make it stop!'" "Poor guy. It's rough being popular with this crowd. We'll hit him up for some cash later, although I think redecorating, setting up for business, and cleaning up after the Nat Pack pretty much took care of the account Janette set-up." "There's always the fashion cash--" Susan simply glared at her. "Don't even about that. You know that money is ear-marked for clothes and accessories. Although," she relented, after a moment's thought, "I "I'm still trying to decide whether Heather's Norwegian body-builder escort of the other night could be considered an accessory." "He matched her outfit," commented Jasmine. She stretched out her legs. "And we've got two weeks of bar receipts, minus what we've spent on supplies. That's not chicken feed." "Depends on the size of the chicken. And we could be talking about one chicken." Susan waved the paper. "Nat sure as hell can't afford to buy this back--speaking of which, have they found her yet?" Jasmine shrugged. "I don't think so." "I don't think she was kidnapped--I think she's hiding from the NatPack. They probably embarrassed the hell out of her and she's gone to ground until the war is over. Or . . . she knows this is gone and is afraid it will turn up or fall into the wrong hands." Nodding, Susan pointed at the paper. "What do you think Nick would be willing to shell out fo for a little look at his lady love's deepest secrets and desires? no less." "Would have to be." Jasmine smiled when Susan looked at her blankly. "Well, you know how hard it is to explain to Nick. It's just easier to draw pictures." "And then there's LaCroix. That could be a dark horse in the running. I think we can discount Tracy--although that girl might learn a thing or two. And as far as Vachon goes, I'll bet it's too tame for him. He seems like a 'been there, done that twice hot fudge' kind of guy." With a frown, Susan very carefully folded the announcement. "I think we should take a whip round this afternoon. Plus, tell Sheryl and Tami we're jacking up the per drink cost on the coffee and beer, and add another two bucks to the cover charge. I'll have Dave sit down with some numbers and ask Vicki and Catherine to check out the copyright and liability." Jasmine grinned. "You mean, you want to go for it?" "Go for it?" Susan matched her grin. "I think we've just found perfect Christmas gift for the boss." ### A RETURN TO HQ by Dawn Steele Time: Afternoon Place: Toronto -- Queen St. Dawn had packed up all the things she wanted to keep from her little trip to the Queen Street Mental Health centre. //Have I got everything?// The wonderfully abstract little finger paintings that she'd done (completely around the bend at the time), the jumbled notes on the meaning of life, the universe, and the Quickening. The self-help books that Adrian had given her. And best of all... the pictures of Dawn attacking Dr. Adrian Wetmore that the receptionist had thoughtfully taken, and then forked over for some hard cash. //I bet I could drive Tracy Clarke wild with those. Hunky-Dunky, Duncan...// Dawn smiled and then stepped out of the clinic. She'd decided against taking a taxi or getting one of the other Die-Hards to pick her up. It was only a short walk after all, and she wanted to surprise them. So she walked down Queen street, singing a merry tune that she'd picked up somewhere... "....because you're crazy doesn't mean you're insane..." Dawn's voice (never very good without a lot of practice) made a couple of the pedestrian bystanders wince. "... and just because you see things, doesn't mean they're not real, not there, not just all in my head!!" Dawn suddenly gave a convulsive sneeze. //I hate colds.// Thinking back to hunky-Adrian, she remembered his slight case of the sniffles. Adorable, but still so infectious. She sighed, and continued singing. "... and just because you think you're being followed..." With that rising note Dawn slipped into the alleyway beside her, and disappeared from sight. A few seconds later, a small figure dressed all in black (black boots, black pants, black coats, black hat... you get the idea) slipped into the alleyway, and was promptly knocked unconscious by a careful application of backpack full of books + head = unconscious. Dawn stared at the fallen woman in front of her. "... doesn't mean you're paranoid." She pulled out the cellular phone that the clinic had returned to her that morning, and phoned up DH headquarters. "Hi. It's Dawn." Dawn rolled her eyes, and pulled the cell-phone away from her ear. The babble from the other end was quite loud. "Don't worry about it. Dr. Wetmore pronounce me mentally functional this morning, and I've got a certificate to prove it." More babble mixed in with some pointed reminders as to how Dawn had believed herself "mentally functional" last week too. "Sheesh! Are you going to pick me up or not? I finally managed to capture one of the people that have been following us around since the war started." A questioning look crossed her face. "What do you mean, 'what people?' ? Haven't you been spotting them?" Dawn nudged the 'stranger' with her toe. "Just pick us up, and maybe we can get some answers." ### QUESTION PERIOD by Jane Snyder Time: Late afternoon Place: DieHard Headquarters The other Die Hards had just finished re-arranging the furniture in the main room of Die Hard headquarters when Jennifer, Lana, Ariel and Dawn came through the door dragging a half-conscious stranger behind them. The couches had been arranged in a semi-circle. The two standing lamps were over in a corner, and the blinds closed against the afternoon sunshine, leaving the apartment very dimly lit. "Over there." Leah gestured at a sturdy wooden chair with arms that was sitting all by itself in a corner. As soon as the woman was dumped in the chair, Jane and Wendy snapped the shackles shut on her ankles and wrists. "She definitely won't be going anywhere fast." Wendy commented. "Now all we have to do is wake her up." Wendy flinched noticeably as Dawn came and stood next to her. Dawn smiled understandingly, "Don't worry, I'm not going to attack you. Adrian...Dr. Wetmore took care of all that. I know the difference between fantasy and reality now. That reminds me," Dawn turned around and faced the other Die Hards. "I just want to thank you all for taking care of me while I was missing a few screws and for getting me the help I needed." Everyone else muttered "you're welcome" and shuffled their feet. Jane and Lana exchanged guilty glances. Hopefully no-one would tell Dawn about the photographs they took of her attacking Nick and LaCroix -- not before they came back from the developers anyway. "Ooooohhhh!" The black-clad stranger had regained consciousness. Jane frowned slightly, //why were strangers always dressed in black anyway?//. The woman tugged at her shackles and demanded, "Where am I? Who are you? How dare you...." Ariel and Leah turned on the standing lamps, focussing their glare directly on the stranger. "So who's got the truth serum?" Lana asked. Jane stuttered in surpise, "T..t..truth serum?" "You did get some when you were setting up headquarters, didn't you?" Jane shook her head, feeling dismally inadequate. //How was I supposed to know we'd need truth serum. I've never been in a war before.// "Great. Now what do we do?" Ron the Enforcer stepped in, "Why don't you let me ask the questions. I've had a little experience at this kind of thing." He simulated an ingratiating smile -- at least that's what he *intended* that grimace to be -- and focussed his vampire will on the woman, stopping just short of actually hypnotizing her. "Now, what is *your* name?" The woman glared at Ron and struggled for a while, then admitted, "Emily...Emily Messinger." "Why were you following Dawn?" "Dawn?" Ron pointed at Dawn. "Oh her. I never knew her name, just that I was supposed to follow her." "Why?" "And if I don't tell you, what are you going to do to me?" Emily summoned up all her bravado. "Kill me?" Ron the Enforcer growled softly. //Now that was a really tempting suggestion.// Dawn was highly amused. She didn't know where Emily had come from, but assumed that another "mystery" faction had joined the war games. "I've never played at interrogating anyone before. I've interrogated, but I've never been on the other side," Dawn smiled. "Can I have a turn now?" "Why does she keep referring to the war as a game?" Jane whispered to Lana. "Are you sure she's cured?" Lana shrugged and whispered back, "Dr. Wetmore said she was." Crossing her legs and sitting in front of Emily, Dawn began asking questions, not giving Emily any time in between to answer. "Where did you come from? How long have you been following me? Why did you choose me as your victim? Were you at the hospital too? Did you drive me crazy? Did you see who drove me crazy? Did you watch them do it?" Emily started to speak a couple of times, giving a great impression of a fish gulping water, but stopped when it became obvious that Dawn was not listening. "Dawn, why don't you just sit back and watch Ron ask the questions like the rest of us." Lana put her hand on Dawn's shoulder, "He *is* our expert after all." Dawn reluctantly moved onto the couch and Ron the Enforcer stepped back in front of Emily and began the interrogation again. Without success. Every so often, another Die Hard would interject, asking their own questions, but all Emily would say was "Name: Emily Messinger, Rank: novice, No serial number." After about half an hour, Jane lost interest and wandered into the kitchen to make tea and coffee. She stacked the largest tray with mugs, spoons, milk, sugar, honey and lemon while the coffee brewed and the kettle boiled. Lyn and Wendy joined her, "Need a hand." "Sure. Can one of you carry that tray through, and the other take the teapot. I'll bring the coffee." The three returned to the main area, and began handing out mugs, tea and coffee to anyone who wanted. Emily inhaled deeply, a look of bliss crossing her face. She spoke wistfully, "You have coffee. I haven't had any in over a week. Have you ever heard of an entire city running out of coffee?" Suddenly, every Die Hard had the same expression on his or her face, a wolfish sh*t-eating grin. Ron grabbed a mug full of coffee and waved it under Emily's nose. An undercurrent of laughter threaded through his voice, "You bet we have coffee. Lots of coffee. Would you like some?" He snatched the cup away and drank deeply, ignoring the way the liquid scalded his tongue. "Awww..too bad. This one seems to be empty." He smiled evilly and added, "But we have plenty more....for a price." Emily fought herself visibly for a moment, and then gave up. "What...what price?" "Answer our questions." Lana leaned forward as she spoke. "Tell us what we want to know and we'll not only give you a cup of coffee now, we'll also give you some fresh ground coffee to take home. Any flavour or blend you like." Ron waved another full mug of java in front of Emily and she crumbled, "Fine. You win. I'll tell you anything you want to know. Just let me have some." "One sip now. Another after every question you answer to our satisfaction." "Yeah. Sure. Whatever." Emily's lips extended out towards the mug that Ron the Enforcer was holding. "Just give me some now." She slurped loudly, spilling a few drops when the mug was pulled away again. "May I?" Lana asked Ron. He swept her a low bow and curled up on the floor next to Jane. *** "Who do you work for?" Lana stood in the shadows just outside the stranger's pool of light. "We don't have a name." Emily reached for the mug with one hand, only succeeding in rattling her shackles. "Shouldn't I get a sip for that?" "That's not good enough." Lana chided, "What does your group do? And why did they tell you to follow Dawn?" "That's two questions." Emily complained. "Alright. We're vampire hunters. We came to Toronto to check out reports of a major infestation." "She's quite good you know." Dawn confided in the Die Hards sitting next to her. "I could almost believe her. But she stretched it a bit far with the vampire thing." Alanna and Laura hushed her. They wanted to hear what this woman had to say. Lana gestured to Jane, who placed a mug next to Emily's lips and allowed her to drink a little. A large bag of fresh coffee beans was placed on the coffee table, where Emily could see it. Donna went into the kitchen and started another pot brewing. "Infestation? Of vampires?" Ron spoke up. "Where did you hear that rumour?" "I didn't hear it personally. All I know is that someone in our group got a hot tip from a friend who lives in Toronto. Something about unexplained deaths disappearing from the Coroner's Department records." "Why would that make you think there are vampires here?" Emily glanced at the coffee mug, which Jane held just out of her reach, and shrugged, "Way I heard it, all those deaths were caused by loss of blood...a complete loss of blood. What else could it be but vampires?" This time Emily drained the mug before it was taken away and refilled. Pacing around the edge of the pool of light, Lana changed subjects, "So why were you following Dawn?" Now that Emily had started talking, it was easy to continue -- easier than resisting again. "Our leader told me to. After we let her go, he said to keep an eye on her. Guess he was hoping she would lead us to the coven." "Coven?" The word spurted out before Jane could stop it. She attempted a quick recovery, "I thought you were hunting vampires, not witches." Lana ignored the outburst and continued, "What did you mean by 'let her go'? "Did your group kidnap Dawn? What did you *do* to her to drive her crazy?" The room was suddenly silent. The Die Hards stopped muttering. "Did..did I say that? D**m." Emily started to babble, saying whatever came to mind, trying to work her way out of this one. She hadn't meant to let that slip out. "We didn't mean to drive her crazy! We just wanted to find out what was going on. I mean, hordes of you descended on Toronto, and started attacking each other. Our operatives heard stories about Q-tips, hearts with arrows in them, kidnappings, robberies, food tampering, even cross-dressing and cow patties. And most of the action took place at night. Some people never appeared during the day. It had to be related to the vampires." She stopped suddenly, realizing she'd said too much. "Why?" Emily just sat there and didn't respond. Silence descended on the room until Wendy sat down next to Jane, and began sharpening and polishing her sword. Emily squeaked, "What is she doing with that? Why...why is she doing t-that?" "I don't know," shrugged Lana. "I can't control what she does. And after what Dawn put her through, I wouldn't be surprised if Wendy felt the need for a little revenge against the folks who caused it." Lana leaned closer. "As well as the *rest* of us." "Don't...don't let her hurt me? I'll tell you everything...everything?" "I told you, there's not much I can do. Maybe if you co-operate, she'll feel less like using it." "Okay." Emily took a deep, trembling breath. "Some of our guys saw two different groups of you in the company of known vampires. That's why we grabbed her. We had to know what was going for our attack to succeed." "Known vampires," started Lana, but was interrupted by Dawn. "What on earth do you mean by known vampires?" Dawn walked in front of Emily. "You can't possibly believe that vampires *really* exist." "Don't you? Isn't that what your little war is all about? Protecting your masters." Dawn laughed. "On paper I guess. Haven't you ever heard of role-playing games? Dungeons and Dragons? That's all this is. One huge, complicated, role-playing game." Several Die Hards looked questioningly at Lana, who shook her head and motioned for them to stay quiet. "Besides," interjected Lana. "How do you explain us?" She gestured to include the everyone in the room, including Ron. "We follow no *master* as you quaintly like to put it." "Do you think we're unbalanced or something," said Dawn and then whirled to the assembled DieHards. "No comments." "Do you mean to tell me," said Dawn, as she turned back to face Emily. "that you really believe this drivel about vampires, running around Toronto? Oh, please." "You're kidding." One look at Dawn's face told Emily that she was serious. "You really believe that there is not such thing as vampires and that you're all just playing a game? The others are *not* going to be happy about this. They've been sharpening stakes for the past week." Emily was silent for a moment, then she muttered, "Guess they'll have to let the coroner go too." Lana's eyes narrowed. She'd heard about Natalie's kidnapping, but Dawn's ever-increasing weirdness hadn't left her with much time to do anything about it. And, to be honest, she hadn't felt like helping the Natpack. After all, they started the war. "I've got to go to the bathroom." Emily whined, "Please. It's all that coffee." "Hold it," ordered Lana. She loomed over Emily. "Where is she?" "I...I don't know," stammered Emily. "They move her all the time. I'm new so they don't tell me anything. I was just supposed to follow her and report back. That's all. Please, I *really* gotta go." At Lana's nod, Jane and Wendy released Emily's shackles. They hauled her upright and started towards the bathroom. Lana stopped Jane as she passed by. Ariel and Leah stood up and joined Emily's escort. They stood outside the door, and Wendy went inside with Emily. As soon as the door closed, Lana hissed at Jane, "We have to let her go." "Are you crazy? We have to find out where they're holding Natalie." "She doesn't know. And even if she did, they would have moved Natalie by now, especially since we don't know when she's suppose to report in. Besides, we can make this work to our advantage." "How?" "All this time, they've been shadowing us, following us. Now we give them a situation they can't refuse. A gathering of all the factions in one place. They'll have to appear." "But I still don't see how we'll get the factions together in one place." "With an auction." "An Auction. "Yeah, we'll put Natalie's diary up for auction. As well, as a few other things. Things that will draw the major factions out. I've already made the arrangements for it. The mail should have gone out this morning." "Makes sense to me." "I want to follow her." Dawn had been listening to the whispered conversation. "After all, I was the one they kidnapped and followed." "Fine." When they heard the toilet flushing, Lana went over and gave Ariel and Leah their instructions. The other Die Hards went into the kitchen and began making cleaning up noises. Lana started talking in a more normal tone of voice. "...and since all of the factions are going to be at the auction at the Convention Center on Friday, it'll be easy to tell them..." The door opened and Emily came out. Leah pretended to trip and bumped into Wendy and Ariel, knocking them off balance. Emily seized the moment and ran for the door, grabbing the bag of coffee beans as she sped past. "Go!" Dawn, Laura and a couple of other Die Hards headed for the side exit. Just before the door closed, Dawn stuck her head back inside and said, "This game is *so* much more fun than Dungeons and Dragons." "What is with Dawn?" asked Jane, once Dawn had vanished. "You think she should go running around Toronto like that?" "*I* think it's time to call Dr. Wetmore," said Lana. "To find out exactly what he cured her of." ### A RUNNING CONVERSATION by Dawn Steele and Lana Soward Time: Evening Place: The streets of Toronto. :) Dawn and Laura were started to huff a bit. All this running and chasing was tiring work. Luckily for them, the MS (Mysterious Stranger) that they'd found out was called Emily Messinger had also slowed down. "Hey Dawn, that was quick thinking on your part, back there. You were completely convincing too," said Laura with admiration (if a bit out of breath). "What do you mean?" Dawn panted. Luckily for them (and Dawn's bad knees), Emily shot into a alleyway to try and lose them. Dawn knew it was a dead end, so she and Laura popped into a nearby plastic bus stop in order to wait for Emily to make a run for it. "That bit about all this being a role-playing game. That's certainly how I've been describing it to my friends back home. And you had that Emily really hooked." "I think she's really just taking this way to seriously," said Dawn with a shake of her head. "I'm mean to really believe that there are vampires running around in this day and age. That's like believing the Duncan MacLeod and the immortals from Highlander really exist." It was beginning to dawn on Laura and the others that Dawn was being totally serious (pun probably intended). Dawn pulled out a handy-dandy miniature set of binoculars and looked at the entrance of the alleyway. "After Lu and Mo dropped me off..."began Dawn. "Lu and Mo?" interjected Laura. "LaCroix and Maureen the Merc," said Dawn slowly. //Sheesh, these people are taking it way too seriously. Just like I used to. Good thing I'm cured of that now.// "They kidnapped you too?" "Yeah," said Dawn, with a grimace. "Dr. Wetmore helped me to remember. It was just after I came to Toronto. A couple of people in masks kidnapped me and started to tickle torture me to get information on how the war started." She shuddered in rememberance. "They tickle tortured me -- I hate that -- and then Lu 'hypnotized' me to forget all about it." "How did you know who it was if they were wearing masks?" "Well Lu never wore a mask, so I knew it was probably Cousins. I heard some grumbling about not getting paid so then I thought it was Mercs." She sighed. "It look Dr. Wetmore and I a few hours to track down the only Merc/Cousin it could have been... Maureen the Mad." "But LaCroix voodooed you and you remembered?" Laura asked incredulously. She snapped the binoculars from Dawn's hands and took her turn watching the alleyway. "I think they drugged me too. That's probably why I didn't remember it right away. It's hard to get good results using hypnosis with an unwilling subject." Dawn paused, an angry look crossing her face. "Lu was acting really threatening. I was scared at the time. They pretended like they didn't know who started the war, but I didn't tell them. I mean come on, didn't everyone know it was the Natpack group?" "Um, well, no not really," said Laura, a little hestitantly. She glanced uneasily at her companion. She wasn't really sure that this Dawn was an improvement over the other Dawn. "Really?" Dawn shook her head. "Anyway, after they dropped me off just outside Die-Hard headquarters - still woozy with whatever they shot me up with, these other two weirdos come along and grab me." Dawn was starting to get worried. Emily hadn't come out of the alleyway yet. Her voice was distracted, "They brought me to this old warehouse and started asking me the same stupid questions about who started the war and more. Like what was I doing in the company of a known vampire and such. I think they got one of those stage hypnotists to hypnotise me again." Laura stared at Dawn, who appeared to be getting more and more ticked off. "The creep did a decent enough job. Between all the drugs that various people stuck into me and two hypnosis sessions in one night, I didn't start to remember anything until over a week later when I saw Lu again. After that, I started to remember bits and pieces. Dr. Wetmore thinks that's what sent me over the edge. That and too much roleplaying. He advised me to watch out for it in the future." "That's probably a good idea." said Laura, who was beginning to regret having tagged along with Dawn. Dawn stepped out of the bus shelter, and motioned for Laura to follow her. They crept over to the alleyway entrance. It was empty. "D*mn!" Dawn uttered. She continued muttering curses underneath her breath for the next twenty minutes as they searched the alleyway for the method that Emily had used to escape. They finally located the trap door near the back of the alleyway. After a few minutes, they managed to pry open the door with a piece of metal that had been lying in the alleyway. The place was deserted. Whoever had occupied the place had only left it in the last few minutes though. There were signs of things being pulled out in a hurry and scraps of paper were on the floor. Dawn bent over and picked one up. She stared at the header in disbelief for a minute then handed it over to Laura. Right there, at the top of the page, in big bold letters was the header: "Vampire Hunter Anonymous, Inc. - V.H.A." ### SO LONG AND THANKS FOR ALL THE FINNS by Sharon Himmanen (and the NatPack) Time: Late afternoon Place: Natalie's apartment Several NatPackers looked up as Sharon entered, and realized that things were not going very well. Everything about Sharon's stance and demeanor radiated tension. For her part, Sharon stalked into the room, shrugged out of her coat and threw it on the floor in an abrupt, violent motion. "You know," she anounced, scowling. "People who do nothing but attempt to validate their existance at the expense of others really, *really* tick me OFF!" "Uh-oh," Jennie mouthed to Valerie. "She's Finning," Amy whispered from nearby. "So," GT said amicably. "How did your meeting with the Ravenettes go?" "Do you *know* where all the coffee in Toronto is?" she said, her voice taking on a grating strident quality. Without waiting for an answer she rushed on. "At The Raven. That's right, the Raven. Susan, my *friend* Susan sat there smirking at me over a cup of it just a little while ago." "Oh dear," Amy said softly. Jennie began to giggle. "Oh, well," Sharon said, seeing Jennie start to laugh. "I'm *so* glad my black mood is so entertaining! Perhaps you'd like me to trip over those stuffed animals over there and sprain my ankle. Then you can have a *real* chuckle!" This, of course, made Jennie only laugh harder. "No," she managed to gasp out. "I think that stool over there would work better." Several others had joined her, though they were trying to be slightly more discrete about it. "You mean this one," Sharon said, picking it off the floor. The corners of her mouth were starting to quirk up, despite her best efforts. "You want me to do my Rob Petrie imitation. Would my personal pain and injury make you feel better?" "No," Jennie retorted. "This is entertaining enough! You're funny!" "Well in that case," Sharon said, with slightly better humor and smiling herself, "maybe you'd like to hear what else I found out. It'll make *your* day as much as it made mine." "Whats that?" Jill asked. Sharon turned. "Something's up with them. They were tittering all over the place about it, probably for my benefit. I'm not sure exactly what it is, but they were acting like a bunch of quivering titwillows about it." The latter term sent Jennie off into another fit of giggles, and she mumbled something about picturing Susan with little flapping wings. Leslie asked, "Do they still think Nat just ran out on us?" Sharon snorted. "Of course. But what can you expect. That's what Janette did to them." "Meow," Jill said. "You don't think they've got Nat, do you?" she asked dubiously. Sharon threw up her hands. "Who knows. Oh, and I saw a couple of those guys when I came out of the Raven. They didn't follow me though, which means they're there to watch the club." She stopped and yawned abruptly. "Hey, has anyone checked email lately? Any word from the other factions?" "I was just doing that," Jennie said. She looked at the screen for a moment, then leaned back. "Uh-oh," she said. "What?" Leslie asked. "News of Natalie." "Well," Jennie said looking slightly chagrined. "Sort of, I guess." The others gathered around and read the auction announcement, paying particular attention to Item #1. "Oh, bloody hell!" Sharon bellowed. "As if we didn't have *enough* to worry about with Natalie missing just now. Man!" "That explains what the Ravenettes were so happy about," GT observed. "I'm worth exactly sixty-seven dollars and thirty-four cents at the moment," Sharon said in disgust. "Who's organizing this? Can't we just go and blow them up or something?" A brief look of horror crossed her face, and she glanced at the note again suspiciously. "Sharon!" Jennie admonished. "Then what? There's no way we can outbid the Ravenettes." "Look, it says we can go look at it it. We can go see exactly what it it is," Jennie said. "Lets get our finances together tonight. How much are we worth? We're going to have to make *some* kind of bid." ### EXACTLY HOW CURED IS SHE? by Lana G. Soward Time: 6pm Place: DH HQ. "Dr. Wetmore, please. Yes, I'll hold." Lana contemplated the living room as she waited for Dr. Wetmore to come to the phone. She was increasingly bothered by Dawn's comments that it was all a role playing game. "Hello? Dr. Wetmore? This is Lana Soward. Jane Snyder and I brought a friend to see you on Saturday. Dawn Steele." "That's right, the one the the highlander fixation. Oh yes, we're really glad she's back. I did have a question though. She keeps referring to a roleplaying game... Uh huh...I see. Oh yeah, I know. Its' just that some of the players tend to get a little involved and really start to take it personally and they get offended if you don't take them seriously.." "It took a while to get her to admit that it was roleplaying? Actually, no, I don't think that was a delusion on her part. We did misplace her once a couple of weeks ago, but when she turned up and insisted she'd been shopping, we didn't think anymore about it." "Well if they were so good at hypnosis, then why did she have a breakdown?...I see. Well, I know that people take these things far too seriously, but Dawn did know the risks when she signed up. She's taken place in these games before. Unfortunately, some of the players don't know to separate fantasy from reality." "Well, if I sent them to you, they probably would drive all your other patients away. Well, thank you, Dr. If we run into any more delusional roleplayers, we'll be sure to send them your way." "What?" "Right, unless they have Duncan MacLeod fantasies." Lana hung up the phone. They were in real trouble. Maybe. If Dawn didn't believe in vampires anymore, then...Maybe they could get Ron to vamp out in front of her. Probably wouldn't work. She'd say 'Cool special effects.' Maybe ignorance would be her own protection. They certainly had that Emily woman going. Of course, she did say she was a novice at hunting. The others might not be so easily, mislead. Lana slid off the counter and went to look for Jane. It could be that a Dawn with no delusions, was as dangerous as those with too many. They'd have to wait and see. And be prepared. ### ***Thursday, November 16, 1995*** AUCTION UPDATE ANNOUNCEMENT Time: 7am This is to inform all interested parties that the location for the auction announcement ceremonies has been moved to the Toronto Convention Center. Please remember to submit all bids to WARADDR@DR@aol.com. Thank You, Mr. Bartley Bartley House ### IN WHICH A RAVEN AND A COUSIN GO SHOPPING by Raven Cynthia Hoffman and Cousin Priscilla Berry Shaw Time: 1pm EST Place: Raven and then downtown Toronto Cynthia reached for a cigarette, and once again remembered that she had quit smoking three years ago. Damn but she wanted one now; had in fact wanted a cigarette since the day she got off the plane in Toronto over two weeks ago. Contemplating major changes just wasn't the same without one. But then, contemplating big changes without the aid of a Grateful Dead concert was a new experience as well. She figured if she could decide without her Uncle Jerry's help, she'd live without the cigarettes too. A week. It had been a full week and still she couldn't get the bad taste out of her mouth. How dare that Natpacker, of all people, have said the things that she said? Cynthia no longer cared that Amy had really thought she was Janette when she'd insulted her admittedly more comfortable than stylish apparel. What actually concerned her was that if Amy was really as much like the real thing as everyone had indicated, how on earth was she going to keep Janette from saying the same or even worse things about her mode of dress? Having never had any illusions about why she was a Raven, and not a Ravenette, it still irked her that she was apparently about to cave into the pressure that had kept her out of the last two wars and ask for help in buying clothing, shoes and makeup so she could play dress up with the best of the Ravenettes. Hell, shopping malls gave her a rash like nobody's business, so she was going to need an expert. And then she remembered ... Cousin Priscilla had the distinct honor of being the one person on the face of the earth who had managed to get Cynthia to spend major money on herself in the last three years. The trick was going to be convincing a Cousin that a Raven's wardrobe and makeover were worth her time and Lacroix's money. **************************** Priscilla answered her cell phone absentmindedly. She was concentrating on the computer in front of her and it took her a minute to focus on what Cynthia was asking. When she finally understood Cynthia's request, she sat up and stated bluntly: "Let me get this straight. You, a Raven, want me, a Cousin, to take you shopping during a war." Cynthia grinned. "Well, I figure that you're the only person I know who won't let me talk myself out of buying what I have to buy, even though it goes against my personal grain. Besides, the Ravenettes who will be joining us on this trip get off on this stuff too much. Can't you see it? They will drive me crazy trying to convince me to buy enough fashion statements to outfit me for the next ten years. You and I both know that when I leave Toronto, I *will* revert. Besides, last I heard, you had control of Lacroix's credit cards." At that Priscilla chuckled. "I have better than his credit cards, I have access to his Swiss bank account. I could outfit every Ravenette for the next century on the interest he makes in an hour." This was getting even better. Little did Priscilla know that outfitting all of the Ravenettes was *exactly* what she was going to do. "Besides," continued Priscilla, "I already have permission for this. When I last spoke to Lacroix he told me to be prepared to do whatever is necessary to smooth relations with the Ravenettes. He anticipated that that would probably mean clothes shopping. I suppose I thought I would just be authorizing the expenditures. It never occurred to me that I would actually be trudging along." "So, where to?" asked Cynthia. "You know how I feel about malls." She shuddered. Just contemplating enclosed shopping malls made her think about the hives and headaches that the fluorescent lights and bad air might bestow upon her. "Malls? Malls are for plebeians. Let's check out a bunch of the smaller shops that cater to the avant garde. My guess is that you will need a couple of sharp suits, at least five evening dresses, and some fashionable day gear." Cynthia was beginning to wonder if using Priscilla was as wise a move as it had first appeared. Even the Ravenettes she'd spoken with weren't suggesting such a total wardrobe makeover. "That much?" she squeaked. "You have got to be kidding. I can't even begin to imagine trying on that much clothing in one afternoon." "Do you want help or not?" interjected the Cousin sharply. "If you're going to do something, do it right. You are also going to have to properly accessorize. Jewelry, coats, capes, custom shoes.." "Custom shoes? You mean I might actually get shoes that fit?" Cynthia reconsidered. May this really wasn't such a bad idea after all. "You're also going to have a make over and something done with that hair." "My hair!? What's the matter with my hair? "Your hair makes you look like a Natpacker. Do you reeeaaaalllyy want to look like a Natpacker in the middle of this war? Cynthia had to concede that Cousin Priscilla had a point here; no reason to get mistaken for Natalie at this late date. Besides, this really was the perfect opportunity to get wardrobe upgrades for everyone who'd asked to help out at no cost to the Ravenette fashion fund. ***************************** Several hours later, even Cousin Priscilla was frustrated; and she hadn't convinced Cynthia to purchase even one piece of clothing. No one but the shoemaker had managed to satisfy her needs. The Ravenettes: Jillby, Lorelei, Felicia, Sheryl and Vicki, accompanied by MJ, who had graciously offered to tag along and help carry bags and boxes, had left in disgust, loading their tired bodies and their myriad Lacroix funded purchases into a waiting limousine and roaring off down the street. Cynthia was left alone on the sidewalk, shivering in her leather jacket, with Cousin Priscilla and a lot of explaining to do. "Nothing that looks like that can possibly be comfortable," Cynthia stated categorically, beginning to feel embarrassed that she herself even appreciated looking at women dressed like ... that. "I felt naked. Besides," she continued in abject terror, "I'd have to shave!" While Cousin Priscilla did consider it rather formidable that Cynthia, who hated shopping, had outshopped even a bunch of Ravenettes, she was beginning to wonder what she was going to do with such a recalcitrant Raven on her hands. Priscilla was battling a headache. Having to spend the whole day surrounded by a consumer obsessive, narcissistic, unkindness of Ravenettes had definitely taken its toll. "I think I know what the real problem is here, and the solution" she stated. Reaching into her bag, she grabbed her cell phone and punched some numbers quickly. "Feliks?" she said, "I need the services of your tailor. And could I borrow your Gentleman's Gentleman? I have a Raven in need of a tuxedo in time for a party on Friday." A small but admittedly triumphant grin crossed Cynthia's face. A tailor made tuxedo would indeed solve her problems. Even Catherine, who was so looking forward to helping her with her makeup, would have to concede that an opportunity to deconstruct gender performativity in this way came along only once in a lifetime. Yes, this would definitely be the way to go. Priscilla, meanwhile, took another look at the now openly grinning Raven. As if reading her mind, she stated "The makeover can wait. But you are still going to have to do something to tame that hair." ### IS IT TOO GOOD TO REFUSE? by Lana G. Soward Time: 4:30pm EST Place: Bartley House "I hope you won't think the presumptious of me," said Mr. Bartley, as he eyed his customer. "But there have been some very strange inquiries about the merchandise you left with us." "I realize that. I thought that there would be. But you assured me that you were up to the task." "Yes, we are," he said hastily. "Lloyd's of London has been contacted. All the arrangements have been made. The Grand Room at the Toronto Convention Center has been reserved..." "Then what's the problem." "There's not a problem per se," explained Mr. Bartley, with a pinched look. "It's just this bid." He pushed a piece of paper toward his client. "This is a lot of money." "Um, yes it is," responded Mr. Bartley. "But the conditions for purchase..." "Yes, I can see that. The item must be withdrawn from the auction. Otherwise, no deal. Is the offer genuine?" "Oh, yes," he said. "I contacted the bank specified. The manager assured me that there were ample funds to cover this amount." "Have any of the other bids come close?" Mr. Bartley shook his head emphatically. "No." "All right. Tell the buyer that we accept the terms. The item will be withdrawn from the auction and the viewing tomorrow. The item will be send after confirmation of the transfer of funds." "Very well," said Mr. Bartley with a sigh. That had been easier that he'd anticipated. He turned to his computer to begin the transaction. "Mr. B. Bartley." "Yes?" "*Nothing* had better go wrong tomorrow." ### CALLING THE RELATIVES by Chanda Keith Place: The Raven "My day is going perfectly, guys!" I said as I came down the wine cellar steps, scooped up the kittens and waved a box under their noses. "Do you know what this is? This is the piece I had made out of that nice and very valuable jewelry that you found. I do hope Mistress Janette shows up so that I can give it to her. I picked up a new dress for the auction tommorrow and what else is it that I needed to do? Oh! Now I remember! I have to call the relatives. Be right back!" "Hi, Uncle Syl." I said a few minutes later. "I'm calling to make you a little offer. I've.... ran across some old matchbooks from about forty years ago and I thought that since you collect them you might like to buy them. There are thirty of them and..... Yes, they're in very good condition. You'll take them? Great! How much? Wonderful! Just deposit it in my bank account and I'll take care of it when I get home. I'll ship off the matchbooks today. Thanks, Uncle Syl." "I hope no one minds my making a long distance call on the phone." I thought as I hung up. "Wait a minute! By the time the phone bill arrives the club will be back in LaCroix's hands! You know, I'm feeling a sudden urge to talk to my family, every last one of them! I hope LaCroix has a big bank account!" Nearly two hours of long distance calls to relatives in obscure locations guaranteed to send the phone bill throught the roof later I got hold of my cousin Angie. "Hi, Angie." I said. "What are you doing? No, Angie, I'm not calling to borrow anything. I'm calling to see how high you can possibly make a phone bill go before they cut off service. So, what are you up too? Have you done any interesting research lately at the lab lately? Uh uh. Really? Wait a minute! Litovertrine? You're working one something involving litovertrine? You're developing something to counteract it? Does it work? Can you send me some immediately? "No, Angie, I haven't gone crazy. Yes, I know what litovertrine is for. Yes, I know it tends to be toxic. I still need it though. I'm up in Canada you see and there's this bunch of people who call themselves Nick and Natpackers who I suspect may have some litovertrine. Blast! So that's why Christine Hunt was so cooperative with Ari's demands when we grabbed her! They must have some litovertrine and.... "Angie, sorry for rambling on like that for a minute. Anyway, these N&N people may have some litovertrine one them and I'm sure they have some sort of horrible use in mind for it. You may need to call Cousin Duck and tell him about my suspicions so he can have the police investigate. How fast can you get your hands on the counteractant? Great! No, don't mail it. it won't arrive in time. I'll call Aunt Billie and have her fly it to me. By the way, do you know if it has any side effects? "Angie, why are you laughing? You fed it to SAM? Angie, your brother is not a lab rat! Oh. He thought it was his coke and drank it by accident. Angie, why are you laughing? He gave you his car? Oh, boy! So how long does this suggestible period last? That long, huh? Perfect! I've got to go and call Aunt Billie to go pick up the counteractant now. Thanks, Angie." "This is too, too perfect!" I thought as I started to dial my Aunt Billie's number. "After I arrange to have this stuff flown up, I better go find Ari so we can plan all of the wonderful things that we can do with this." ### POKER...E-MAIL...AND TWO DOGS by Torrey Harris Time: 6pm EST Place: Vachon's church Poker...poker is a good thing...well, most of the time. Torrey and the rest of the Vaqueros had found out quickly that playing poker with someone who is 400 years old left a lot to be desired. 400 years old, with an *extremely* good poker face, left even more to be desired, and several *days* playing poker... well, you catch the drift. With their need for revenge satisfied, the Vaqueros and Vachon had spent the last couple of days relaxing (and trying to calm Vachon down over the little hostage/bad song thing), playing poker, and getting to know the two new members of the faction, Jana and Joe. Vachon was enjoying the company of another man in the house, but was thinking twice about letting the dogs in. The general agreement was that it was a good idea to keep them, because they could warn everone of another impending cow disaster. The dogs did bark once, but all Vachon saw when he looked out the window was a couple of people dressed all in black walking away from the church. No bombs or cow paraphenalia were found, so it was written off as nothing. "Hey, look at this!", Sherri said, holding the laptop in her hands. Torrey had decided not to pursue the sabotage, but the laptop was never left laying around any more. Torrey took it from her and read the two messages on it. "Hmmmm, an auction..." Torrey said, thinking aloud, "I don't think we will want anything they are offering...but I definitely want to be there to see who gets it. My guess is, this could be useful in the future." "You don't want to place a bid on anything?", Sherri asked. "No, one thing we are running short of is money, and I don't want to ask Vachon for any of his stash. And, I still think something funny is going on around here... with all of the problems the NatPack is having, and now Natalie is missing; I think it is best we keep a low profile. Plus, I think Vachon has had enough shock from his first experience with a war", Torrey said, putting the lap top down. "But, we will go to the auction, and to the party at The Raven after. It should be fun...and I am in the mood for some fun." "Hey Vachon!" Torrey yelled across the room. "Wanna go to a party?" \\People pulling my hair, patting/pinching my rear end, flirting, yelling, dragging me into back rooms...// Vachon remembered his last experience with a War party. "Oh, He**, why not?" Vachon asked the Universe and his Vaqueros, with a rueful look on his face. \\It can't be as bad as the last one...// ### TORONTO BY MOONLIGHT (Part 1) by Laura Waskey Time: Early evening Cousin Laura looked around in dismay at her house. It seemed someone had broken in while she was away in Toronto fighting in the War. In her rush to get to Toronto two weeks before, she had left her house keys with her friend, Ravenette Sheryl, who had promised to keep an eye on the place for her. <"Great, some eye, " she thought.> The place looked like a bomb had gone off in it. Suddenly she was pulled away from her thoughts by the very loud and constant meowing of her big, fat, all-white ball of fluff cat, who was appropriately named Casper. (You know after a certain Ghost). Apparently he was trying to get her attention by breaking the Guiness Book of World Records' record for longest and most pitiful whails, which when translated meant: feed me, now! So, Laura fed Casper and her other cat, Candie, who was much too lady-like to moan like Fatso. Then, she walked around her house to survey the damage. The first thing she noticed was the big "Kick me" sign that had been placed under dear Uncle picture that took up the space above the sofa. This hadn't been regular burgalars, no, this was some other faction's idea of a fun way to get even with a Cousin. Thinking hard, Cousin Laura wondered who might have done this atrocity. Maybe those two Natpackers, Jill and Leslie who she had kidnapped for Uncle? Or maybe the Knighties had found out that Cousin Celeste, Cousin Laurie and herself were the ones who had dumped the cow's blood in Nick's loft? Come to think of it, Laura had alot of enemies after those incidents and she could only guess at who would have broken into her house. Walking over to the door, Laura noticed that there were no signs of forced entry, which meant only one thing: someone had to have a key to get in! And who had her key? Well, Ravenette Sheryl had had her house keys to begin with, but when she decided to join in on the war she said that she had turned the key over to Natpacker Leslie. Oops! Bad mistake. But, no one prior to the war would have *ever* thought Leslie capable of this! War changed people and not for the better. As Cousin Laura picked up her phone to call her brother, Nevin, she remembered the reason why LaCroix had allowed her to come home early from the War, a test at college. After all, she had done some really good work for Uncle, and she had caught him in a generous mood, so he had allowed her to leave. "Sh*t, looks like my second call will be to my Sociology teacher explaining why I need to postpone that exam. I hope she buys this story, it is almost as good as the dog ate my paper!" When would this War ever be over? Finally, she reached her brother and explained that another emergency had come up and she had to return to Toronto to "take care of some unfinished business" and could he come over and feed the cats until she got back? First, she had to listen to a tirade about those "crazy" FK people and about getting a life, baby brothers were such a pain in the ass. But, finally he agreed to look after the house and the cats. Hanging up the phone, she quickly called and left a message with her professor and then called Air Canada to book a ticket back to Toronto. An hour later, she was walking out of the house toward her car, which had been towed back to her home after her mechanic had gotten all the Q-tips out of it. Before she got into her car, Laura decided to check her mail. Quickly going through all the junk mail and bills, she noticed a package in the back of the mailbox. Slowly she pulled the box out, after all, no telling what the burgalars had left her, it could be a mail bomb or something. Unfortunately as soon as sheshe saw the calling cg card on the top of the box, she knew it wasn't a bomb. An orange dragon was on the card and on the back it said, "Regards, Susan Garrett". Eek, a Natpacker calling card! Laura opened the box and saw her most prize possesion inside: her "Moon over Miami" tapes! (You know, that wonderful show that was on ABC. That was just like Moonlighting, but better? That got cancelled after just 12 episodes!) Hugging her tapes to her bossom, she sighed in relief.<"Thank G-d, she had them back. But, now, there would be hell to pay!"> Whoever had stolen these tapes and put the "Kick me" sign on Uncle's picture would have to pay dearly for invading her home. It was back to Toronto to find the culprit. She opened the trunk of her car and placed the tapes gently inside along with her unopened mail. They would be safe in there. Looking at the calling card, she wondered if the Natpackers had really broken into her house or was this just a ruse to confuse her? Maybe another faction had done it? The Knighties had a good reason and come to think of it so did the Vaqueros. After all, she ran that vampire's fan club, yet had decided to remain a devoted Cousin. Maybe that had pissed them off? Well, whoever it was, when she arrived back in Toronto, she would find out, and then make them sorry they had ever been born! Gosh, being a Cousin was fun!! ### A LOVELY LITTLE AUCTION by Perri Smith Time: Evening Place: Nick's loft It had been several days since anyone had gotten around to checking their e-mail. Things just kept getting out of hand in the loft. But finally, everyone was involved in something else, all were present and accounted for, and Perri plugged the modem in and opened the Blackbird. After swimming through five days of DDEB2 mail and ignoring various war discussions -- waitaminute, they did *what* to CERK? -- she finally read the list mail. And almost choked. "Auction? ohhhh, sh...ugar, how'd someone get ahold of Nat's diary. Better yet, what's *in* Nat's diary? And....ohmigod." She had to giggle. That particular list, she wanted to see emore than she wanted to breathe. But Nick would kill.... Speaking of which..."Nick! Cath! You better come see this!" *** Perri acquired a few more languages for her cursing collection. Fortunately, Nick kept it quiet, and no one else heard. When he finally became coherent, he firmly shoved Perri out of the way and typed in a bid. Then he looked at his two companions. "How would you ladies like to attend an auction?" "Can we bring the others?" Nick sighed. "What are the odds of leaving them behind?" "Lousy," Allison contributed without looking away from the tv. "Unless you three learn to keep your voices down." *** Perri pulled Catherine aside a few minutes later. "Cath, I didn't want to tell the others but...you know that videotape we got?" "Yes," Catherine answered warily. "Someone's advertising it for sale." "Damn." Catherine thought. "What do you want to do?" Perri sighed. "I'd offer to help her recover it, but I'm afraid she'd just slam the door in our faces again. And if she needed our help, she'd have come to us." "You hope." Perri sighed again. "Yeah. But she's with the Die Hards. I'm sure they'll help her out. I just don't see what we can do until she decides to come back." Catherine nodded. "I know I wouldn't want to hear from us in her shoes. At least, I don't think I would." "All right," Perri said. "We'll keep our noses out of it. and hope Sandra knows what she's doing." ### AUCTION ITEM WITHDRAWAL Time: 6:07pm This is to announce to all interest parties that Item #3 on the Auction Annoucement has been withdrawn from the bid by the owner. No other details are forthcoming at this time. Items #1 & #2 are still up for bid. Thank You, J.W. Bartley Bartley House ### A NEW PERSPECTIVE by L'Phantom Time: 11pm The adult watched eagerly as the child played with his toys. Thes mall child seemed to enjoy picking up one of his playthings and putting them down in another place, then forcing them to explain how they got there. As far as the adult could tell, the child was engaged in a war game of sorts, with several different teams, each plotting against the others, none of them really knowing who was on whose side. The adult was beginning to get bored with watching the child. He was on the verge of telling the child to stop playing so that the adult could teach him something new, perhaps the meaning of life, when the adult spotted something amidst the child's playthings that piqued his curiousity. He suddenly decided that he wanted to play, too. This was going to be fun. ### THE SET-UP by Perri Smith and Dianne De Sha Time: Late evening Place: N: Nick's loft "Pam? It's Perri." An incoherent mumble was the only response. "Still not recovered from BadBlood, eh? Look, I need you to find something for me, to be used for evil, but just, purposes." "Like what?" Pam managed to garble out. Perri told her. By the end, Pam was awake. "Why? "It's better if you don't know. Trust me ont his. Can you get it?" "Ye-ah. By when?" "ASAP." "Perri? Am I going to like this?" "You're going to love it. LaCroix, on the other hand..." ---- "Brett? It's Perri. You still have that friend in Vancouver?" "Only if it has nothing to do with a war." "Of course it has to do with the war. Catherine is going to send him a rather large package from Alaska. A friend of hers it gettin get for us. I need your friend to pass it on to Anna in Toronto -- you've got her address, right?" "Somewhere. Why not just send it directly?" "It, ah...needs to be fed." "What?!?!" -- Time: The dead of night Place: Blood bank A lone figure, dressed all in a deep, lapis lazuli shade of blue (no need to be entirely cliched, is there?) moved stealthily amongst the shadows behind the Metro Toronto Blood Bank. Punching a code into the electronic lock, the figure opened the back door and strolled right in. As she moved past the refrigerated storage looking for a specific code number, Dianne la Mercenaire once again thanked whatever Deity had sd seen to the invention and propagation of computers. One quick hack from Nat's work computer and she had all the information she needed before she ever stepped foot on the grounds: from the door code to the donor code and schedule of a certain perky police detective.... Opening the appropriate compartment, Dianne smiled. Right on schedule--even in the mi middle of the war Detective Vetter made her donations on time. Grabbing the donor bag, she slipped it into the insulated lunch sack slung over her shoulder and placed on the shelf a large happy face button. Within moments she was gone. ***************************************** Place: St. Barnabas Church, Toronto Dianne winced again as she entered the silent church. She had to keep reminding herself that this was all for a good cause... that they could bless more in the morning with little enough effort.... But it was at the churches that still actually left their doors wide open all night that she ended up feeling like a creep. she kept reminding herself. she argued with her conscience as she pulled another empty plastic liter bottle from her backpack and emptied the font. Nowhere near enough. She sighed wearily. The supply of holy water in the City of Toronto had been dwindling seriously over the past few weeks. She ran through the remaining list in her head again...St. Ignatious, St. Bridget's, St. Barbara's...no, St. Barb's was pretty well torched no?* She wondered if Vachon's abandoned church might not have some stashed in a corner somewhere.... ********************************************* *(no, you won't get it...inside joke to my beta readers...wait until my next major fic gets posted :-) ### SUCH A SWEET LITTLE THING by Catherine Boone Time: Really, really late Place: Nick's loft, CERK Perri looked at the random scattering of plans littered across the couch while Catherine was on the phone confirming yet another detail of their plan was being taken care of smoothly, and shook her head in disbelief. "You're sure this is going to work?" she asked, as Catherine hung up the phone. "Sure it'll work. All we have to do is get the bottles of Tracy's blood in Lacroix's hands, make sure he downs them, and be there to pick him up when he keels over." "And how are we supposed to get beyond the Cousins? They'll be crawling all over CERK." "Oh ye of little faith. C'mon. I'll show you." The two hopped in a rental and sped off into the night. Perri stared at the empty halls of CERK. "Where are they?", she mouthed silently. "IRC chat," was the reply, "for alt.fan.barney.die.die.die. They're on every night." "How the heck did you know to look for *that*?" Catherine shrugged absently. "Lucky guess." ** ** Lacroix sat before his computer, chatting on PSYCHO-L (if you've got a better name for it, let me know) while the Cousins were busy on their IRC. He was finally able to begin to relax. The war was ending soon, and therefore his life would be able to get back to normal in short order. But talking about killing with his netfriends never failed to make him ablsolutely starved in short order. He found a couple bottles on the table. He snatched them up and brought them back to the computer, uncorking one and drinking as he went. He never made it to the keyboard. ** ** "Okie doke! Here we go! Allez OOP!" "Oh, God, and they call *Nick* a brick!" "Less talking, more walking!" "Or panting and wheezing..." "Details, details!" "Hey, this was *your* idea, *you* carry him!" "Oh, for Pete's sake! Just grab a leg, and we'll figure out how to get him in the van when we get out there!" "*If* we get out there." "Quiet, you." ** ** The navy (too much black in this war, I tellya) van pulled up to the Happy Souvlaki Deli,li, and a truckload (truck, van, whatever) of Knighties spilled out. Perri approached Pam while Allison and Marcia got the back open. "Hey, Pam, have you made the chocolate yet?" Pam was too busy trying to peer into the van to look at her. "Yeah, it's right here, although why you would want chocolate made with holy wy water, I can't figure out for the life of me. I got the mold, too. But what am I supposed to do with the extra chocolate? "Oh, that's for Dianne, in return for her part of this business. Keep it, and we'll pick it up as soon as we're done with this." Pam decidedly put her hands on her hips. "Speaking of 'this', do I get to to know what's going on now?" Catherine grinned as she grabbed an arm. "Presently, m'dear, presently. Okay, guys, one, two, *THREE!*" Pam looked doubtfully at the still form, then comprehension dawned. With a vengeance. "Oh my... you aren't." Catherine laid Lacroix down as carefully as she could. "We most certainly are." "You were a Cousin in another life, weren't you?" "I most certainly was." ** ** They were just about done putting Lacroix back in CERK when Perri arrived. "The moose is here. You set?" Catherine finished pinning the note to his chest, then replied, "I think we're set. Let 'im loose, we'll pile out the back way." She glanced up at Lacroix's face peeking out. His eyes were rolling around, and he began to open them slowly. "Perri, I think it's time to leave." "What?" "Now, Perri! RIGHT NOW!!!" Perri finally saw what Catherine saw. "You know, you could be right..." They bolted for the back room, mere seconds before Lacroix opened his eyes. ** ** Inarticulate howls greeted the Cousins as they logged off of their chat. They went running for the source, and found Lacroix encased in a large 8-foot chocolate bunny, with only his face showing. A matching 8-foot moose nibbled happily on his ear. There was a note pinned to his chocolate-ly furry chest, which read thusly: "After all the nice things you've given us, we thought you'd like a little chocolate moose in return. Hugs and kisses, the Knighties." The Cousins looked at the chocolate. They looked at the moose. They looked at each other. And then they looked at Lacroix, who obviously couldn't get out, for whatever reason. They sat down, and started eating. ### A LITTLE CATCHING UP (a) by Toni C. Holm Time: Night Place: Toronto Four Season Hotel The bedroom of the luxury suite was dark, but in the bed could be seen a woman with long red hair and an older man engaged in what might be described as a compromising position. Suddenly there was a slight sound in the darkened room, The woman turned over in the man's embrace and felt a presence in the room. A tall silhouette now graced the leather chair by the bed. She elbowed the man holding her and sat up. "If I'd known you were in need of company..", a voice came silkily from the chair. The man in the bed stiffened, "Holy s#*t," he said, "Who's that, your husband?" "Don't be absurd", she said to him, propping herself up on one elbow. She turned to look at him. "Just the same I think you'd better leave", she said, waving her hand dismissively toward the pile of clothing on the floor. A chuckle came from the chair. The man dressed quite hurriedly and left carrying his shoes. "That was hardly polite", she said tartly to the form in the chair. "And just what was *that*?", he said, "I though you had undying love for some m..." ""Better not continue", she cut him off sharply , "Not if you want something". "This has nothing to do with him". The form in the chair cocked an eyebrow and said nothing. "*That*, as you put it was named, Tom.. I think", she said cocking her eyebrow back. "What else was I supposed to do? I've been here since last Thursday and there's only so much shopping I can do". "I was bored". "Ok, let me put in terms _you_ can understand. A snack". Laughter, "OK, my dear" "You're right, I do need your help" She sat up and reached for the long silk robe on the nightstand and put it on without remark. He spoke for 30 minutes, detailing the outrages at CERK and a list of other acts that couldn't go unpunished and then looked at her. She reached for the ever present black bag she carried and pulled out a rolodex and a small cellular phone. "I think we can do something about this", she murmured to herself as much as him. "Where's that card from the Las Vegas convention? And Jackie, she's in the hotel, I think she might have some ideas." She went to the wardrobe and began to dress. "Come on", she said, "But, there's someone you have to meet." ### NIGHTMARE ON KING STREET by Jane Snyder Time: Middle of the night Place: A bedroom in Die Hard Headquarters Jane tossed and turned, unable to get to sleep. She couldn't get the war out of her mind. Thoughts, images, ideas kept popping in and out. Times like this, she missed her husband, even his little snores -- the ones he insisted didn't exist. Looking at Wendy, her temporary room-mate didn't help either. She was sound asleep, dreaming happy dreams from the sappy smile on her face. Jane punched the pillow and rolled over once again, trying to find a comfortable spot. Eventually, as the minutes ticked by, Jane slipped into an uneasy sleep, haunted by images of the war.... The sign on the door to the Raven said "Temporarily Closed", but the two intruders just looked at each other and pushed at the door. It was locked. "Now what?" "We open it." One intruder knelt on the ground in front of the door and pulled a set of lock picks out of a pocket. Thirty seconds later, they both walked inside. "You'd think there'd be better security." "Who's in possession of this place anyway? The Cousins or the Raven/ettes?" "Dunno. Does it matter? As long as they ain't here." The two strapped on their gas masks, getting ready to wreak their revenge. "Hey. This place is closed." Vampire or mortal? There wasn't enough time to decide. Lifting the nozzle attached to the industrial bug sprayer on her back, the unknown woman was sprayed with the foul smelling concoction. Mortal, definitely mortal, was the decision. The second intruder hit the woman on the head with a nearby chair. In no time at all, she was trussed up with chains ripped from the ceiling and abandoned behind the bar. "At least this place doesn't look quite so awful now that it's empty." The gas mask muffled the voice, making it impossible to identify. The second intruder turned her head and looked around -- awkward, but unavoidable as the plastic hood covering her head decreased peripheral vision. "You could almost imagine that Janette was back in charge." Even through the mask, the voice sounded wistful. "We better hurry. There's no telling when the current owners will return." The second intruder reached over her shoulder and unholstered the nozzle attached to the tanks on her back. "Ready?" "As I'll ever be. Let's do it." Starting at the bar, the intruders moved slowly through the room, spraying a noxious liquid over everything -- tables, chairs, floor, the bar, and especially that d****d stage where the strippers did their thing. Every so often, as the liquid hit a blood stain on the floor, a hissing steam would rise up. Shortly, every surface in the Raven was soaked. "Let's go. We don't want to get caught." "One more thing." The first intruder moved to the bar and took out a large handful of pink, fabric covered buttons. Quickly, she re-arranged them into a smiley-face. "Okay, that should do it." The two ran from the Raven, remembering to close the door quietly. They stripped off their sprayers and plastic coveralls carefully, making sure not to get any of the concoction on their skin, hair or clothing, tossed them into a garbage bag in the trunk of their car and drove off. ******************* The scene changed, suddenly the car no longer existed. There was only one intruder, creeping into a garage. Nick's caddie was in the third bay. Top down, partly repainted, brown paper taped over all the windows. Pausing for a moment, she ran a hand over the trunk which was still bright fuschia pink with little Ravens. A sigh escaped her. That aqua green was just bearable, but this was an atrocity. //Stop this. You've got a job to do.// Pulling the gas mask and head cover on, she moved quickly around the car, carefully spraying every inch of the outside, drenching the interior, even the convertible top. A box of Vachon Half-Moon cakes was dropped onto the driver's seat. Mission accomplished. She ran outside and stripped off her coveralls and tossed them into dumpster behind the garage. A few minutes later, a car pulled up and she jumped in. *************************** Then there were three conspirators, parked across the street from a church. One stayed in the car, engine running, while the other two got into their coveralls and strapped on the bug spray tanks. They crossed the deserted street and walked up to the church. The door was open. "I can't believe this. Doesn't he know there's a war going on?" "I don't think Vachon understands what that means." They stopped speaking and crept up the stairs. The loft was still decorated in the cow motif. Obviously housekeeping wasn't one of Vachon's strong points. Wonder how long it would take him to get the smell out of the place when they were done. Five short minutes later they were back outside. They had used the last of their noxious spray on Vachon's church attic, but everything except his guitar ar was well soaked. A black feather had been woven in the guitar strings. Giggling happily, they gingerly climbed out of their coveralls. "What are we going to do with these?" "Throw them out. I definitely don't want them back in my car, or I'll never get the smell out." Using the nozzles of their spray equipment, they carried the coveralls to a nearby garbage can and dropped them in. The sprayers were placed back into the metal box in the trunk so they wouldn't drip onto the interior. "What was in that stuff anyway? I've never smelled anything like it." "A special concoction that one of the neighbourhood kids came up with. You mix equal parts holy water and skunk oil, then add a lot of garlic cloves and let it sit for about two to three weeks. Guaranteed to be unbearably repulsive to humans and vampires alike." The three intruders laughed, a low grating sound. "Wonder how long it'll take the other factions to get rid of the smell?" A screech of tires and they were gone. ******************************* "Stop it. Wake up!" Wendy shook Jane hard. "Wha...what's happening? Are we being attacked?" "No. You were making strange noises in your sleep. Mumbling about skunks and garlic." Wendy sat up on the bed. "Then you hit me. I really hate being punched." "Sorry. I was dreaming." Jane shook her head, trying to clear the cobwebs. "What a nightmare." "Must have been some dream. Want to tell me about it, now that I'm awake." Jane pulled her pillow up and leaned back against it. "Well, it all started at the Raven...." ###