@==@==@==@==@==@==@==@==@==@==@==@ Thursday, June 19th, 1997 @==@==@==@==@==@==@==@==@==@==@==@ ONE PERSON'S GARBAGE... (1/2) by April Hackett Time: after "To Rift or To Write" Toby hurried into the Hive with a large armful of papers. Moving to the closest table, he dropped his load, producing a noticeable thump! Maus looked up from the corner she was sitting in and said, "I see you found some of those flyers. That's great, a few is better than none." "I found more than a few," he replied. "My car is filled with flyers!" he proudly stated. "You're kidding!" Maus exclaimed, as did Leslie, who had walked in with Michelle, April and Susan a moment before. "Yeah, someone had dumped a whole bunch into one of those big trash bins," he said as he plopped into a nearby chair. "There's more back there if we need them. My car wouldn't hold anymore," he finished, waving his hand toward the front door." "More?!! Where! Come on, you have to show us where you found these," Michelle yelled, grabbing Toby's arm and hauling him up. She looked around and spotted Leslie speaking with Maus. "Leslie, we need your van!" "What for?" Leslie asked, looking up at her name. Toby left a load more of these flyers back where he found them. We need to go get them!" she declared, as she continued to drag Toby along by his arm. "Okay, but I'm driving," Leslie insisted. "Come on Toby, you have to come too!" Michelle stated. "Wait. But I..." faded away as Toby disappeared from view, propelled by Michelle's FK mania. @==@==@==@==@==@==@==@==@==@==@==@ ONE PERSON'S GARBAGE (2/2) by April Hackett Time: after "To Rift or To Write" Leslie pulled into the alley and looked around carefully. "We're awfully close to Merc Central. Better keep a lookout for anyone lurching around. We don't need being kidnapped, or some messy trick played on us right now." "Right. Besides, I don't want to miss seeing Nick and LaCroix when they come back," Michelle said, looking down the dark alley. Leslie looked appropriately nervous. "Um, Michelle, you know I really don't want any socializing time with the General." Michelle smiled as she scanned the alley. "You made that clear when you stayed in the bathroom for their entire visit, Leslie." "They were in that big bin right there," Toby said, pointing to the trash bin about 10 feet in front of them. Pointing her highbeams at the area Toby indicated, all they saw were several large bins with a couple of smaller can in front of them. "How did you find the flyers in there?" Leslie asked, confused. "There was a big pile laying around in front of it. I got curious and looked inside, that's all," he replied with a shrug. "Well then, let's get this over with," Michelle commented, climbing out of the van. They walked over to the bin and looked for a way to climb in without getting coated with whatever trash was stuck in the outside. Opening the lid, the odor that filled the alley, made all three gag and reconsider this course of action. "Eww, Screed Cologne. I'm not sure I want to do this after all," Michelle coughed, looking slightly ill as she stood on a nearby can and glanced inside. "I see a big pile of red papers, but I don't want to climb in *there*!" "Let me look," Leslie replied, and climbed up after Michelle jumped off the can. "Well, we need those flyers, so I guess it's take the plunge or forget the cause. Besides, I've changed far too many diapers to be put off by a dumpster." Leaning against the side of the bin, she wiggled herself over the edge and landed in a shower of paper. "Leslie!! You all right?" Toby and Michelle both quickly asked. They inched up to the bin and peeked inside, worried for their colleague as well wanting to delay climbing into the giant garbage can. "This would go faster if one of you would come in here with me," Leslie declared as she began heaving piles of discarded FK flyers out of the bin. "They don't appear to be damaged or dirty either," she stated as the first handful came soaring over the edge of the bin and landed on top of Michelle's head. "Ouch!" she yelled, rubbing her head. Looking up she saw another pile coming at her. "Hey! Watch it. You're going to brain us if you're not careful." Leslie's voice echoed out hollowly, "Not an issue in this crowd, really. Brains, I mean." "Come on, either climb in or start carrying them to the van," Toby said, walking to the vehicle with his arms loaded. Giving both of her fellow UFers a scolding look, though neither saw it, Michelle buckled down and began to carry some of the papers toward the van, just as yet another load came sailing out of the trash bin to land on the street with a dull splat. "Good thing I moved," Michelle mumbled as she continued toward the vehicle. =\=\=\=\=\=\=\=\=\=\=\=\=\=\=\=\=\ After a while, Leslie called out, "Give me a hand out of here." Toby dropped his load into the van and hurried over to the can near the trash bin. Climbing up, he reached in, grasped Leslie's hands and held still as she began to walk up the inside of the bin. When a leg hooked over the edge of the bin, Toby grabbed her round the waist and pulled with all the strength in his wiry frame. Leslie grinned as she straddled the big bin, then slowly started to ease herself down, as Toby jumped to the ground and helped her out of the bin. "Look out!" Leslie yelled suddenly as she lost her balance and fell the last few feet, taking Toby with her. "Thanks, Toby," she said, as a groan issued out from under her. "You make a great pillow," Leslie teased as she carefully stood up. Michelle ran over and stood nearby as Toby slowly climbed to his feet as well. "Peee-ewe!" she exclaimed as they came closer to her. "You guys stink!" "Well, thank you, I'm sure," Leslie retorted as she tried to clean some of the garbage off her clothes. "Well, you *know* what I mean," Michelle said, picking something long and brown out of Leslie's hair. "Come on, let's get back before something really happens to us," Toby stated from the van. Leslie climbed into the driver's seat and reached for the ignition... and stopped. "What's wrong?" both UFers asked simultaneously. "I just realized... We could have probably picked up all the flyers we needed from Abby or Karen," Leslie said, annoyance bristling through her voice. "I didn't *have* to climb into that trash bin after all." "Oh, I didn't think of that," Toby and Michelle stated, as they rolled down their windows and leaned out. "Funny. Very funny!" Leslie exclaimed as she backed the van out of the alley and headed back to the Hive. @==@==@==@==@==@==@==@==@==@==@==@ Friday, June 20th, 1997 @==@==@==@==@==@==@==@==@==@==@==@ FAMILY VALUES PRESERVED (1/1) By Leslie GrantSmith, Unnamed Set right after "That's What 'The Man' Said!" Kelly turned back into the Hive, holding the sheets of pornography distastefully before her. From what she had seen, it wasn't even very *good* pornography. Turgid, unimaginative, and look, a participle, just dangling... "What was that?" asked Wendy Marie, brow furrowed with some concern. She'd caught a bit of the conversation, but she hadn't wanted push up too close and irritate the cop. "Porn," Kelly replied. "Bad porn. And because my name is on it, of course it is assumed I wrote it. Which is dumb. Like I'd put my name on *any* porn before I stuck it up all over Toronto, let alone... this. Like I'd get a kick out of being brought up on indecency charges." "Gee, Oscar Wilde was," said Leslie, her long hair a haystack after having washed it a dozen times to get the dumpster stink out of it. "Twice." Kelly glared evilly at the occasionally too So-Cal blonde. "Did he get a kick out of it?" "Ah, no," replied Leslie. "I don't think he was into bondage." She held her hand out hopefully toward the sheaf of papers in Kelly's grip. Kelly put them behind her back. "You wouldn't like it. It's really, really bad, and I know you have your standards." "As low as they might be," Wendy Marie added, grinning. "Who was at the door?" asked Jules, wandering in with a honey porter in her hand. The phone rang in the other room. "A cop," said Leslie, "come to take Kelly away." "What!?" exclaimed Jules. "What's going on? What did you do, Kelly?" "Nothing!" cried Kelly, rolling her eyes in exasperation. "I-" "Kelly!" called Sukh from the other room. "Phone!" "Now what?" the woman grumbled, striding angrily away. Jules turned to Leslie and Wendy Marie. "What's going on?" she demanded. "Well," explained Wendy Marie, "a cop just came by and said that a whole bunch of porn with Kelly's name as author has been left all over the city, I guess on walls and stuff. She has to get it all taken down or she'll be up on pornography charges." "And it isn't even very good porn," said Leslie. "Apparently." Jules blinked. "I think you're missing the main point here, Les." "Oh? Not really. It's *War*. Kelly, and therefore, the UF, has been attacked. And as it's *bad* porn, we really have something to be upset about." At that point, Kelly came back into the room, smiling slightly. "What happened, Kelly? Who was on the phone?" asked Wendy Marie, a bit concerned about Kelly's mildly dazed look. "That was Don Constantine. He said not to worry about the posts. His people would have them cleaned up in a few hours. Concerned citizens, not wanted the youth of Toronto exposed to such filth. He is very much the `family man,' after all." "Really," interjected Leslie. "At least we keep all our erotica where kids can't get at it." "Aaaand..." Kelly went on, "he says he'll also put the word out that he'd wants at least a description of the people who put the posts up in the first place. They're all over Toronto. Someone has to have seen something." "And if we get a description, we *will* get the perps. Eventually," said Jules, grinning evilly. "Eventually," her fellow Warriors agreed in unison. And they shared her evil smile, thoughts of sticky revenge creeping into their brains. =\=\=\=\=\=\=\=\=\=\=\=\=\=\=\=\=\ Within a couple hours or, say, 7200 beats of a fairly healthy human heart, the city of Toronto was cleansed of all the indecent "litterachure" bearing (falsely) the name of Kelly Green as author. Family values again took the upper hand, preserving the innocence of the city's youth. @==@==@==@==@==@==@==@==@==@==@==@ ONE FLASHBACK, WITH FRIES (1/1) By: Laurey (Fenris) Laurey opened the front door and Perry trotted out. As she closed it, April, Jen and Susan came in, glasses in hand and looking a bit grubby. "This place is *so* dusty!" Jen complained. "You know, you'd think if whoever set this place up for us could stock it with every kind of booze under the sun, and all the other things we've found, they could have hired a maid or two to come in and DUST!" Leslie looked up from the couch where she had been sitting and going through the impressive collection of odd objects she had collected in her pockets. "Yeah, but it could be worse. I haven't seen a single bug so far, no cucarachas at least." "How could there be cockroaches, they'd choke to death on all the dust," said Laurey, walking over to the couch and looking at Leslie's collection. "Wow, Leslie, are those your Tardis pants? Those pockets have to be bigger on the inside than they look from the outside. Look at this stuff!" Leslie grinned and said, "Hey, wait until I empty the *other* pocket! Laurey, you know, I've been meaning to ask you, how'd you hook up with Perry? You said you'd tell us later when you got here. And where's his owner, you know, Jody?" Laurey glanced quickly at the door as if she was afraid Perry might somehow overhear them, and shook her head. "I don't know, I think he either got separated from her somehow, or something really awful happened to her. When I was deciding to take him with me I though about that too, and I asked him where Jody was. He just whined and looked really droopy and miserable, so I guess he's either lost or she got killed somehow. It's not like anyone offered to show her the ropes or anything, *like Nick should have*," she finished with an emphasis. "Hey," April said, springing to Nick's defense, "He might have done it, you know, offscreen." Laurey shrugged. "Maybe. We all know a *lot* of stuff happens offscreen, right?" Wicked smiles crossed everyone's faces for a moment, then they turned their attention back to the matter at hand. "Well, anyway, I stopped in Buffalo to put in an order at the brokerage, then decided to get something to eat, so I stopped at this trucker place near the exit for the highway.." She trailed off, an odd expression on her face. "Laurey, what's wrong?" Leslie leaned forward, concerned. Laurey gave a little start, and broke into a big smile. "Hey, I can flashback! Just like Nick! This is great! No wonder he spaces out all the time. I love War! OK, where, was I?" She sank back into her flashback..... =\=\=\=\=\=\=\=\=\=\=\=\=\=\=\=\=\ They pulled into a truck stop twenty miles outside of Buffalo. Laurey wanted to rest, have something to eat and walk Tybalt before she crossed the Canadian border. A middle-aged man with long brown hair and a sparse mustache wearing a black t-shirt under a grubby denim jacket was standing by the entrance, staring at her as she approached the door. Something about him put her on full alert, and she studiously ignored him as she walked past him into the diner, trying to give off as many "piss off" vibes as she could without being openly hostile. He smelled strongly of beer. As she passed by him he turned to follow her in. 'Marvelous', she thought, 'I do *not* have time for this goobatron. Good work, Lor, your ESP is working, you can still home in on any wack job within a fifty mile radius.' She grimaced, thinking about the Beretta packed securely away in the trunk with the ammo packed separately, waiting for customs. 'Wonder how chivalrous the bartender's feeling. If this dink's a problem, I suppose I can always get him to call the cops, or maybe he'll just throw the dope out if I go over and get teary on him.' She looked behind her and stopped short when she realized that the man was no longer behind her. Looking around, she could not see him anywhere. Huh. Feeling a bit foolish now, she went up to the bar to order her takeout. As Laurey left the diner, she glanced around; no one was in sight. Good, Jerky Boy was probably still in the diner, hopefully in the mens' room puking up his pitcher of beer. Then she noticed some movement by the dumpster. Wondering if she was going to catch a glimpse of the local Buffalo wildlife, she turned and approached the dumpster. The movement she had glimpsed of something large and furry turned out to belong to a big Golden Retriever who was snuffling around the base of the dumpster. As she drew nearer, he turned and looked at her. Laurey smiled. She loved Goldens, her family had raised and shown them in the Seventies. Slowly she knelt, and spoke to the dog, "Hey, Sweetie Pie, what're you doing out here? Where's your folks? They shouldn't let you run loose like this." He regarded her gravely, his plumed tail beginning to wave back and forth. She patted the pavement in front of her. "Come here, Pumpkin, come and visit with me. Oh my God, you look so much like Paris. Come here, baby." Paris and his mother Skoshi had been the two best dogs she had ever owned, Skoshi being the smartest, and Paris the best natured. She loved Tybalt and his quickness and cleverness, but she would always have a soft spot for all Goldens, they instantly melted her heart. His ears pricked up as she said Paris' name, and he took a few steps toward her, then stopped. "Yeah, that's it, honey, I won't hurt you. Come on, that's a good boy," she said. The dog seemed to come to the end of some internal debate, and trotted up to her, tail wagging. Gladly, she took his shaggy head in her hands and rumpled his ears, then gave him a good ear scratch, noting that he had no collar. He stood mesmerized, leaning into the caress, making little grunts of pleasure as she massaged behind his ears. "Oh, you do remind me so much of Paris. He was a great big moosh like you, you know." As she spoke Paris' name, his tail began to wag faster, and he leaned harder into her hand. Frowning, she put her hands on either side of his head, and looked into his face. For an instant, his eyes seemed to glow with a multicolored pale light, then his eyes looked normal again. Shaken, she looked at the Golden. Paris had had unusually bright phosphorescence in his eyes, they had appeared rainbow colored in dim light. Enough weird things had been happening, this kind of thing was no longer completely unexpected. Her voice low, she said, "Paris?" The Golden pricked up his ears again, tail wagging, and gave her a sudden sloppy lick across the face. She put her hand up to her face automatically to wipe away the slobber, as she had countless times before almost twenty years ago, eyes wide. 'It can't be Paris, that just isn't going to happen. This is a coincidence, Laurey, somebody that lives around here owns this dog, look at him, he's well fed, and you've seen a lot of Goldens that look like Paris or Skoshi. Knock this off, you have somewhere to be.' She meant to stand up and walk away, but instead found herself hugging the dog, her face against his velvety cheek. He whined, and wagged his tail furiously. "Bye, baby, I wish I could take you with me, you're such a good boy. I hope whoever owns you appreciates you. You go home now, this place is dangerous for you. I'm sorry, I have to go now, I have to get to Toronto and find out what's going on. You be good, now." She stood up, dug into the takeout bag, 'Funny,' she thought, 'That's the first time I ever saw a Golden not be interested in a bag full of food, he didn't even sniff at it,' and offered him a handful of french fries. He ignored them, and stood looking up into her face intently. "Oh, you are breaking my heart, sweetie. Here, eat the nice fries and go home, OK?' She placed the handful of french fries on the pavement in front of the dog, gave him a last ear rumple, then turned and walked quickly away toward the Porsche. Getting in, she started the engine, backed up, and drove out of the parking lot onto the highway, resisting the urge to take one more look at the dog in her rearview mirror. The golden retriever stood in the parking lot, staring after the car's taillights as they grew further away. The wagging tail slowed, then stopped. A soft whine sounded low in his throat, and he shifted from one paw to the other. There was a whoosh of air, and then the space in the parking lot where the dog had been standing was empty. A few scraps of paper whirled and settled over the cooling french fries. =\=\=\=\=\=\=\=\=\=\=\=\=\=\=\=\=\ Ten minutes and ten miles up the road, Laurey pulled over at a truck turnaround to park and eat her sandwich. Tybalt, who had been sniffing her suspiciously since she had gotten back into the car, happily forgot about investigating any indiscretions his Mom might have been committing with other dogs in favor of bolting down the hamburger she had gotten him as a special treat. Still a bit shaken, she munched on her sandwich and tried to get her thoughts in order so she could concentrate on what was going to happen once she got to Toronto. "Man, I hope customs isn't going to give me a hard time about those cases of honey. Damn, I wish I had a sales slip for them. Geez, what will I say? I'm going to a family reunion and we're making baklava for 500?" Tybalt suddenly jumped into the passenger seat and growled, his ruff standing up, staring out the front window. Laurey followed his look, and dropped her sandwich into her lap when she saw the large Golden Retriever standing in the light from the street lamp, wagging his tail and looking at the car. "No, this can't be. He couldn't possibly have followed us, no way. What, did he hitch a ride on the roof?" Slowly, she opened the door, got out and approached the dog. He stood there, wagging his tail, a doggy grin on his face, tongue lolling out. She knelt and reached out to touch him, a bit surprised when she touched solid fur. He wasn't an apparition or an hallucination. In a low voice, she said, "Paris?" The Golden looked at her, and his eyes glowed a dull red. Laurey's eyes widened in realization, and she breathed, "*Perry.*" =\=\=\=\=\=\=\=\=\=\=\=\=\=\=\=\=\ "And the rest, as we say, is history," she concluded. @==@==@==@==@==@==@==@==@==@==@==@ KNIGHT MOVES (1/1) By Leslie GrantSmith (with thanks to April and Julia for not permitting me to "space-out." ) Set shortly after "Family Values Preserved" Lacroix knocked on the door of Nicholas's hotel room, curious about the concern, immediate though not especially urgent, he had felt through their link. "It's not locked, Lacroix. Come in," Nick called at the sound of the knock. The elder vampire did so, brows rising when be observed Nicholas's activity. "What's up, Lacroix?" Nick asked as he carefully laid a folded shirt into his suitcase. "I was out for dinner in the neighborhood, " replied Lacroix, "and I thought I'd drop in." "Dinner," Nick repeated, his tone a bit flat, flicking a glance at his maker. Lacroix's mouth bent upward in a smile with no real humor. "Dinner. At a little bistro established by Constantine. The Raven is... occupied and your brother has made it his business to set up a number of alternative sites where those of our kind can freely enter, mingle and ... buy a drink." "Oh," said Nick, looking a bit apologetic. "Sorry." "No need to be, Nicholas. On some evenings your assumption would be quite correct." Lacroix watched Nick's deft hands fold and pack a pair of pants. "So," Nick went on, stepping around a subject what was a sore point for them both and which would someday have to be discussed, "you went to a bistro. With others of ... *our* kind?" "Ah ... no," Lacroix replied, his smile warming. "I had arranged to have the place to myself. A room full of Nicholases would be an embarrassment of riches. And the thought of facing myself, however altered, grossly or subtly, puts my teeth on edge." And indeed, his canines flashed a moment in his smile. Nick grinned and then laughed outright as a thought struck him. "Share, Nicholas, do," requested Lacroix. "I'm reminded of a nursery rhyme... 'There once were two cats of Kilkenny, Who each thought there was one cat too many, So they fought and they fit And they scratched and they bit, 'Til instead of two cats there weren't any.'" Lacroix chuckled. "It's astonishing how murderous some of these poems for young children can be. But the sentiment expressed, I admit, is to the point." His eyes followed Nick as he made some final adjustments in his suitcase before closing the lid. "And ... if I may inquire, Nicholas ... where are you going?" "The Hive," Nick replied, grin slanting as Lacroix's insatiable curiosity pushed him into asking the question, finally. "The Hive?" Lacroix repeated, astonished. "Whatever for?" "Well, I called," Nick said, picking his suitcase up off the bed and setting it on the floor, before going to the closet to fetch his jacket, "and April said they'd been attacked. There's a War on, you know." "I'm doing my best to ignore that fact," Lacroix said a bit acidly. "Was the attack serious? All their left shoes stolen? Their shampoo replaced with honey? Their undergarments with purple edible thongs? Or perhaps those toys that resemble bee antennae were super-glued to their foreheads." "Deely-bobbers, those are called, I think," said Nick, grinning as he shrugged into his jacket. "And don't give folks ideas. No, the attack was much less direct. Pages of pornographic material were posted all over the city with Kelly Green's name as author on them. The police decided to hold her responsible for them and ordered her to take them all down or face pornography charges. Not too bad, as far as attacks go, though Kelly is a teacher and facing those charges may have proved awkward on that account." "And you are moving in to calm the resulting hysterics?" "Nick grinned. "No, they're not *that* upset. Though apparently Kelly and Leslie are a bit bent out of shape because it was *bad* porn. Poorly written, I mean." "They would be," interjected Lacroix, smirking. "Is Leslie a teacher as well?" inquired Nick, brow furrowing. "I suspect her primary objection would be to triteness. A lack of imagination." "Oh," said Nick. "Anyway, Constantine had all the pages taken down, in the interest of the family. I just want to be there in case something else happens." Nick hesitated, then said a bit stiffly, "You could move in too." Lacroix stood still a moment, expressionless. Then he said slowly, "Perhaps ... not just ... yet." Nick nodded, a certain measure of relief evident on his face. "You're right. But... why don't you come over with me now. Just to see what's up." "You're going to get yourself tangled up in something sticky, Nicholas." "Yeah, well," Nick tossed over his shoulder as he headed out the door, suitcase in hand, "*you're* the one who loathes being sticky. Not me." Lacroix blinked, staring after Nicholas's back, then snorted with startled amusement. "Are you coming?" Nick called from down the hall. "Shut the door after you." "'Whither thou goest...'" Lacroix muttered, shaking his head, knowing he was going to regret this, and followed his son, carefully closing the hotel room door behind him. =\=\=\=\=\=\=\=\=\=\=\=\=\=\=\=\=\ End Part 4, 19-20. Continued in Part 5, 21-22