War: Does Your Faction Know that You're Out? (1/1) by Bonnie Rutledge with Third Cousin Patt, Cousin Jules, and Cousin Cherri Special guest appearance by Vachon's Guitar Lyrics written by Anderssen/Ulvaeus Time: After 'Nunkies?' Before and after 'To Talk Of Many Things' Before 'A Less Permanent Hell' *************************************************************************** Bonnie scurried worriedly up to where Jules leaned against the front door entrance, clutching Vachon's guitar with a puzzled look on her face. "LaJules! You'll never guess who I just saw!" "I don't want to guess. Tell me." Bonnie sighed. "Sometimes you can be so...Cousinly!" "Thank you. You were saying?..." "I just ran into Cherri, and she said she doesn't want the guitar back yet. We have to hide it again." Jules gestured to the crowd of Cousins still being scanned for clearance so they could go to the briefing. "But we have to go to the meeting - we'll hide it afterwards." Once the meeting was over, however, Bonnie was a wee bit distracted. For one, there was a Lacroix in a toga running about. That was enough to bedevil even those with the slightest Nunkies Addicted tendencies. Patt and Jules sought her out instead, Patt handing her the keys to her truck. "Huh? What's this for?" "I can't go with you to hide the guitar," Jules explained. "Something's come up here, and I need to stay. Take Patt's truck, and be careful." "But...but shouldn't we report the alternates we've seen to Shelley or the Leaders first?" "Don't worry," Patt insisted. "One of us will do it. Just go. Conceal the instrument." "O-kay." Bons took the time to change clothes and put on some new clunky shoes. Within minutes, she sat behind the wheel of Patt's truck with Vachon's guitar at her side and sped along Yonge. As her foot slipped off the accelerator for the third time, Bonnie cursed privately that operating a motorized vehicle while wearing non-sensible footwear was a lamentably under-appreciated art form. "Well, I can dance with ya, honey, If ya think it's funny, Does Your Mother Know That You're Out? And I can chat with ya, baby, Flirt a little maybe, Does Your Mother Know That You're Out?" Yes, Bonnie was singing ABBA tunes again, but this time the only one groaning in protest was the truck's brakes. "Hmmmm..." she muttered softly. "If I was hiding something (which I am) where would I hide said thing where it would remain undiscovered? Hmmmm...I know! Somewhere absolutely and totally gross! A slacker would not go there willingly! *I* would not go there willingly. I will hide the guitar there! MUAHAHAHA!!!" And, against her will, she did. Bonnie returned safely to CERK, guitar hidden once more, then joined Cherri in a quest to find the Pompeii Lacroix so that they could look up his toga. At least, until Jules and Patt found her... *************************************************************************** Fin Send Comments to: br1035@ix.netcom.com --------------------------------------------------------------------------- "Wherefore Thou Alone" By Cousin Tser With help from: Heidi Cousin 'Chele Michele Cousin Robi People are used in this story with permission. This takes place directly after "A Less Permanent Hell". ************************************************************************ But wherefore thou alone? Wherefore with thee Came not all hell broke loose? ~~ Milton ************************************************************************* Cousin Tserisa took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, pausing at the entrance to the dungeon. She opened the heavy oaken door, which was very out-of-place with the rest of the Cousinly HQ's decor, and started down the steps. There was an immediate change of atmosphere. Whereas the upper part of CERK was comfortable, with a distinct cousinly atmosphere, there was a sharp change in the environment as soon as one stepped onto the huge blocks that served as steps down to the dungeon. The dungeon was walled in huge, grey stone blocks. It was cool and damp, though not uncomfortably so. The whole room was of muted greys, a very un-cousin-like pallor. Most cousins preferred rich, dark colors over the pale, sallow grey of the dungeon. The doors to the cell were heavy and oak, with wrought iron bars over a small window at the top, and a small, locking wrought iron door near the bottom, just the right size for passing through wine bottles. It was somehow made to keep in vampires, but the General had never explained to his ranks how. The dungeon was very rarely used. The padded cell in the upper part of the building was used more than the medieval style dungeon. It was so rarely used, some Cousins hadn't even known about it before this war. It was the basement level of CERK, and underground. It was lit by huge, yellow candles in sconces on the wall. They melted and dripped in eerie tendrils, and the acrid smoke from their flames was carried out of the room by a very high-tech and out-of-place air circulation system. Cousin Tser was surprisingly comfortable in the underground oubliette... she always liked a medieval, gothic atmosphere. Still, when she entered the dungeon, she found it unsettling. It was oddly quiet. Aside from a few of the cells that were filled (no doubt with alternate beings from other realities that just didn't fit in), the dungeon was empty. There were no other cousins in the dungeon. Tser swallowed. She moved to the cell that held the LaCroix she had found. He was sitting with his back to the door, on the single wooden bench in the small cell. He didn't hear her come up, or he chose to ignore her presence. Tser bit her lip apprehensively. At his feet were almost a dozen empty wine bottles, drained, and arranged neatly in rows. Tser gathered up all her courage and cleared her throat. Someone in the cell next to her LaCroix's stirred -- Cousin Tser deliberately avoided looking into it. LaCroix didn't move. "Please tell your friends 'thank you' for the blood," he said, his voice smooth and calm. "Yes, sir," Tser said quickly. "Ah, it's you," LaCroix said, amusement evident in his voice. "How's the neck?" Tser's mouth opened, but she couldn't get words to form. "'Sokay," she muttered, her hand moving up to rub the heavy bruises lightly. He still sat with his back to the door, motionless. "Sir," she said, "I'm sorry we had to put you in the dungeon," she choked out, clearing her throat. "I'm... sorry," she repeated, finishing lamely. LaCroix turned towards her, shrugging slightly. "Understandable. I did, after all, attempt to take your life." He smiled slightly. "Yes, well," Tser said weakly. "I won't do it again," LaCroix said lightly, his tone wrought with irony. Tser looked at him for a moment. He still looked quite terrible, though his face was not as pasty or mask-like, and some of the moisture had returned to his skin. His eyes, though, were still dusted with intense pain and sorrow. His intense gaze was unsettling and uncomfortable. "Why don't we go upstairs to the salon to talk?" Tser suggested uncomfortably. "I'll, um, try to explain what's going on." "If you trust me," he said with wry amusement. Tser retrieved the ring of large, wrought iron keys, and turned the appropriate one in the lock. LaCroix stood. As the key clicked in the keyhole, the being in the next cell moved about again. Tser pulled the door open slightly. She paused, wondering exactly what she had gotten into. ***** LaCroix and Tser found an empty table in the Cousinly Salon, the Cousin's socializing room. It was a large, comfortable room with squooshy chairs, a great sound system, a self-service bar, and a wonderful Cousinly atmosphere. Shooing away one of the Cousinly Goats which had somehow made its way into the room, Tser got herself an iced tea and LaCroix a glass of thick, red blood. Cousin Robi noticed them enter and came over. "Hello," she said, glancing with a slight, nervous smile at the LaCroix who accompanied Tser. All the cousins had already heard to stay clear of him, if possible. "Why don't you sit down?" Tser asked, motioning to the empty chair beside her, glad for the company. She didn't want to be alone. Robi smiled knowingly and situated herself in the seat. "So," LaCroix said silkily to Tserisa, "what is your name, or shall I continue to call you Dear Delusion?" Cousin Robi looked at Tser confusedly, but Tser shot her a look that meant *I'll tell you later,* and turned back to LaCroix. "I'm Cousin Tserisa," she said, "and this is Cousin Robi." "Cousin Tserisa," he said quietly, testing the name. "Interesting. Pleasure to meet you both. You already know my name." "We know your name, but it'll get rather confusing because there are a lot of LaCroixs around right now," Robi commented. "A lot of LaCroixs?" LaCroix asked, frowning. Tser swallowed nervously, and wiped at the water ring on the table from her drink. "Yeah, I should explain that to you, because you'll no doubt be meeting -- others -- soon. It's how you came into this reality. See, there's a rift in the Space-Time Continuum, and people from alternate realities are coming through --" She was cut off when Cousin 'Chele entered, Detective Schanke in tow. But it wasn't "Detective" Schanke... it was "Ranger" Schanke from the Wild West. Tser had met him and 'Chele at the Temporal Briefing. He was proving to be a handful for 'Chele. Chele rolled her eyes and turned to him. "Look, why don't you go amuse yourself, hmmm? I'm sure there are all kinds of things here you've never seen before. Just don't leave without me, okay?" Schanke drew himself up and huffed at her, "I'm a Ranger. I kin take care of myself." Chele raised an eyebrow and tilted her head. "Do I really have to mention the escalator again?" she asked archly. Schanke turned beet red and executed an about face, heading deeper into the salon without a word. Chele smirked and drew up a chair, turning to LaCroix. "Hello. I'm Chele, if you don't know." LaCroix nodded slightly. "Charmed." "I rest my case," Tser grumbled. LaCroix raised his eyebrows. "You're saying that different realities are converging on this point due to an anomaly in the make-up of space time?" he said curiously. "That means that there is more than one LaCroix... and more than one Schanke," he finished distastefully. Tser looked up sharply, surprised he caught on so quickly, though she supposed when one was ripped suddenly from a reality that obviously was quite different from this one, one might be open to new ideas. "Uh, yeah..." she said. "And more than one Vachon, and more than one Nick...." It was LaCroix's turn to look up sharply. He stirred his drink with his finger as 'Chele glanced over at her charge, who was at the bar, investigating the refrigerator, opening it and closing it, wondering at the cold air within. Cousin Kimee wandered over to him, grinning widely, and led him to the stereo equipment. "And these alternates... they are all different?" LaCroix asked. Cousin 'Chele shrugged. "Well, some are, you know. Uh, like that Doctor LaCroix who works with trauma patients... and the Dream LaCroix straight out of Alice in Wonderland," she said. "But some are closer to the General *we* know and love -- whoever and whichever he is. The same personality wise, that is, but from totally different realities." Tser smiled slightly. "You know what's funny -- of all the LaCroix's I've met so far, you're the one that's closest to ours. You speak like him, and you have the same attitude. But you're from a reality that's so different -- I mean, I assume so," she finished quickly. "Quite," LaCroix said slowly. "Our LaCroix is missing," Cousin Robi said softly. "He disappeared right after the rift opened." "What's your reality like?" Tser asked quietly. LaCroix looked at her for a second, then set his glass of blood on the table. "Well, I suppose you deserve to know," he said, a slight smile curling his lips. "I'm sure my behavior is confusing, to say the least." Tser shrugged slightly. "I must admit, I was, uh, caught off guard," she said smiling slightly. "My reality," LaCroix said, "is hell." ************************************************************************ continued in part two "Wherefore Thou Alone" By Cousin Tser With help from: Heidi Cousin 'Chele Michele Cousin Robi Continued from part one. ************************************************************************ The three Cousins froze and watched LaCroix motionlessly. LaCroix continued. "I lost track of the years at forty. What does time matter when one's alone?" he asked. "I don't know how long it's been -- a century, half a century, a thousand years? It doesn't matter." "Since what?" Cousin Robi asked. "The comet," LaCroix said simply. Tser drew in a breath. "Comet," she repeated dumbly. "It hit the earth and threw up a cloud of dust and ice and fire so thick the sun didn't shine anymore. Eternal night," LaCroix said slowly. "Night is all well and good, but not without a moon. Not without the stars. Not without the sun to warm it in the daylight hours. Ice hung thick in the rancid air. The comet caused earthquakes and volcanoes, it ruptured nuclear containment sites, and caused nuclear winter." LaCroix paused, sipping his blood. "The mortals and animals, of course, were the first to go." He smiled mirthlessly. "Those who weren't killed by the impact died slowly of cold, starvation and the pollution in the air or radiation poisoning. By the time the cloud cleared -- twenty long years -- they were gone. The youngest vampires were next. They barely had time to see the moon again. Some didn't," LaCroix said. His voice was calm and smooth, but Tser could detect the pain in it. "Nick's Natalie didn't." Tser jumped slightly, and looked over at Robi and 'Chele, who both had stricken looks on their faces. Chele's eyes narrowed and she nodded slowly, a thoughtful look replacing the shock. Tser turned back to LaCroix, taking a deep, shuddery breath. "My people died around me. My sons and daughters. Slow, painful deaths. Some gave up, some held on. Nick died forty years after the apocalypse," LaCroix said flatly. "And then I was alone. Alone in an icy hell without companionship, without sustenance, and without the will to live. But I couldn't die," LaCroix said bitterly. "I couldn't die, because I am 'far too old and too powerful'. "I stopped counting time. Time is such a worthless thing, invented because people can't stand not knowing they're going to die one day, invented by mortals who're going to die and want to know when. Time shouldn't matter to vampires. It shouldn't matter. But it did, because my family, my people were going to die, die when they shouldn't have. After Nick died, what was there to keep track of? There was no one else. Nick had stopped truly living when Natalie died, but he was still there. Then he was gone." Only Tser, closest to LaCroix, saw the single blood-red tear escape his eye. His voice remained distant and calm. "I was then alone, living on and on on a lifeless ball of ice circled by a moon that had ceased to bring light to my life. The night held nothing for me. It was no different than day. There was nothing to hunt, so why go out? All that was out there was flat, grey, icy land, bones and bloody tears." He sipped his blood thoughtfully. "I, myself, was perpetually starving. Such a terrible way to live, always hungry. I thought, when I saw Toronto again, that I was finally dying. I was -- relieved. I thought that I was finally delievered from hell." The three cousins were quiet. They were in shock at LaCroix's tale. The comet that had missed this reality's earth by an arcsecond had destroyed this LaCroix's. Cousin Robi looked over at Cousin 'Chele, and they exchanged horrified looks. Tser stared straight ahead. How was she going to tell him he was supposed to return to that reality? She couldn't imagine telling him, and so held her tongue. There was an icy knot in the pit of her stomach from just the thought of suggesting it -- how could she actually *let* him return? She couldn't damn anyone to the hell he described, let alone her commander and General. Chele glanced at the other three occupants of the table and drew in a shaky breath, her eyes wide as they came to rest on LaCroix. "Oh, Goddess, how can you stand to go back there?" she whispered. LaCroix stiffened. "Back?" he said, in a completely emotionless voice. Chele's eyes widened even more and she looked from him to a tight-lipped Tser and back. "Oh, no! You didn't tell him, did you?" she asked, her voice strained. She dropped her head into her hands to hide the red creeping up her face and muttered, "Great, big mouth, you've done it again." Sighing loudly, she raised her head and looked over at Tser, who'd started to speak, then stopped, obviously at a loss for words. "No, s'okay. I spilled the beans, I'll clean 'em up." Chele turned to LaCroix and swallowed hard, then cleared her throat. "You see, the, um, the theory is... I mean, the assumption we're working under is that all of the ... misplaced char-- Uh, that is, people, like yourself, will have to go back where they belong or the rift will never close." She stared at him in despair, her eyes brimming as she waited for his reaction. Tser's eyes overflowed, and she wiped at the few tears with a silk napkin from the table. LaCroix had stiffened during her explanation, but surprisingly - or not so surprisingly, considering he *was* very close in personality to the Cousin's own LaCroix - did not explode. He merely nodded once and said, in a very soft voice, "I see." ************************************************************************** To live a life half dead, a living death. ~~ Milton ************************************************************************** fini WAR: Observations Part 1/1 Concurrent with: Wherefore Thou Alone By Patt Elmore Beta by Jules After seeing the shaky state that Third Cousin Patt was in, Cousin Jules had politely shooed the woman away while she attended to the needs of Tser's LaCroix. Once this LaCroix had awakened and Tser had been called, Jules went in search of her Louisiana friend. Jules found Patt sitting on the stoop outside the back door of CERK. The older woman's eyes were closed and her chin rested on her chest. Patt's arms hung loosely by her side, her shoulders were hunched. "You okay?" Jules said, joining Patt on the stoop. When Patt did not respond, Jules placed a tentative hand on her shoulder. "Patt?" Patt jumped, startled, flailing a hand in Jules' direction. Jules ducked the blow and then grinned, "Nice reflexes!" The other woman groaned and put her face in her hands. When she finally looked back up at the ex-Houston Cousin, Patt's eyes were full of deep worry. "I still can't believe that I *hit* LaCroix over the head with a *beer* bottle," Patt's voice shook with emotion. "And, considering I was foolish enough to do such a thing, I can't believe I'm still alive." Jules smiled sympathetically. "I guess it could have been worse," she said. "It could have been the *real* LaCroix." "If he exists anymore," Patt said miserably. "For all we know, he's floating out there in the cosmos somewhere. This whole temporal rift thing has me totally confused." "Join the club," Jules agreed, repositioning her body so that both women stared off into the darkness of Toronto. They sat there silently for a time, thinking about the events which had happened since Jules had gotten the phone call at the Jeweled Peach. Their meditation was interrupted, though, when the CERK door began to swing open. One tiny webbed foot appeared, parallel to their line of vision. An Arctic bird appeared. He stood at the door, resplendent in a black and white plumage, a small tuft of yellow above each ear. This bird, which had been dropped at CERK prior to the just completed meeting, had been identified as a LaCroix, of sorts. At least, it seemed to sound LaCroixish enough to merit a spot in the Cousins Registry. The women had to admit that his stance was noble, his beady eyes glittered with intelligence. He looked down his beak at the women, studying them carefully. Then he mumbled a few words and brushed past Patt and Jules with barely a notice. As he waddled quickly away from the radio station, Jules looked at Patt. "Do you think we should go after him?" Jules asked, but did not move. Patt took a deep breath. "I'm all out of beer bottles, girlfriend, and I don't have a net. But, I'll tag along if you want to give chase." Before they could arise, though, Cousin Leader Cousine Celeste burst from the door, followed by Cousin Michele. Cousine Celeste looked perturbed, Cousin Michele looked worried. "Which way did he go?" Cousine Celeste demanded. Jules and Patt simultaneously pointed in the direction that Penguin LaCroix had taken. Celeste shook her head in agitation. "That little creep is going to be the death of me," she said. Turning to Cousin Michele, the Cousine went on, "Follow me! Let's *get* 'im!" Michele looked dubious. "What do we do with him once we find him?" she asked. The Cousine did not answer, but charged down the street after the offending bird, a reluctant Michele following close on her heals. Patt and Jules watched them disappear into the darkness, not moving from the stoop. Patt shook her head and began chuckling softly. Jules looked at her questioningly. "You know the most interesting thing about this whole paradox situation, Julsey?" Patt, her shoulders still slumped, turned her head to look at her friend. "It's seeing which . . . *visitor* seems to be coordinating their activities with which . . . *host.*" Jules looked perplexed. "What do you mean, Patt?" The woman from Shreveport sighed. "Probably nothing," she said, "but the social worker in me can't help but look at the sociology of the situation." "Hmmmm?" Jules responded. "Most experts in the field agree that a person's personality develops from the exposure of community to a unit relatively established by its biological origins," Patt explained. "In other words, we all start out with a blank slate based on our genes, and our personalities develop by imprinting with events which occur when we encounter outside influences, i.e., our parents, our schools, our friends, our community, etc." "Okay," Jules said skeptically. "Where are you going with this?" "Well," Patt went on, "I've been watching the *visitors* as they've arrived at CERK with their respective *companions.*" "Who hasn't?" Jules snicker/snorted. "I think *all* of our attentions have been captivated by our *visitors,* as you put it." "Yes," Patt nodded, "but have you been noting who shows up with whom?" Jules' eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?" "Well, I've been watching both *visitors* and *hosts* and have been trying to find some correlations," Patt explained. "At first, I was studying them, trying to get a handle on perhaps why this rift occurred. Now, I must confess, it's become just professional, or maybe non-professional, curiosity." "Uhhh, huhhh," Jules replied. "Look, I could try to explain development of personalities and the attraction of personality types through a series of gene-o-grams or Sears' theory which emphasizes historical learning circumstances in which learning and theory and psychodynamics are brought to bear on the study of relationships." Patt looked over and noted that Jules' eyes had glazed over somewhat. "But, put more simply, I began to try and see what makes what kind of *visitor* get involved with what type of *host.*" "It is important?" Jules asked. "I'm not sure," Patt conceded, but then she grinned wickedly, "but it sure has been fun." Jules' eyes lit up as she noted the mischief in Patt's tone. "What do you mean?" "Well," Patt stretched and looked around. "Maybe we should take the rest of this conversation to a more private location. What'cha say?" The two women rose and left the stoop, glancing around once in awhile to make sure that no one was either following them or lurking about. They strolled toward a small park located about two blocks from CERK. The chain and rounded plastic seats of the swing set caught their attention, and they went to the play area. Taking seats side by side, they rocked to and fro, their feet remaining in contact with the ground. "Did you notice Dr. LaCroix?" Patt asked, resuming the conversation where they'd left off. Jules nodded. "See any correlations between him and Cousin Zeonia?" "They're both in the medical profession," Jules suggested. Patt nodded. "That would be the most obvious parallel, yes. But, look deeper. Why would Dr. LaCroix seek out Zeonia? What in Zeonia made her attractive to him, and vice versa?" Patt took a deep breath and continued. "Many times we tend to choose *partners* who reflect what we would like to be ourselves--smarter, better looking, more educated," Patt gave Jules a side glance and grinned, ". . . sexier." "So, how does this apply to Zeonia and Dr. LaCroix?" Jules kicked absently at the bare rut beneath her feet. "If the *attraction* theory is correct, then perhaps the Zeonia/Dr. LaCroix match occurred because Zeonia has always wished that, instead of a nurse, she could be a doctor. If Zeonia's psyche is responsible for Dr. LaCroix, then he may be her projected manifestation of herself." "I'm still confused," Jules said. "Have there been other parallels which support your theory?" Patt shrugged. She had been twisting her chain absently and now let the swing twirl back to its proper position. "Okay, here's a general one, no pun intended," Patt smiled. "Take Agent 0079. He's being 'hosted' by a whole bevy of Cousins, the GSS team." Jules said nothing, so Patt continued. "0079 might represent the excitement in their lives which they always wished they'd been able to pursue, but were unable to because of real life responsibilities. A chance to cut free and play spy. Heck, I wouldn't mind a chance at that myself--I just don't think I'd like to risk having bullets whizzing past my head." "The same thing, on an even more fantastical note, might be our own Cousinly Leader, Cousine Celeste," Patt said. At the mention of the Leader's name, Jules eyes took on a wary expression, but she remained quiet. "What is her manifestation but a totally dream quality LaCroix based on Alice in Wonderland? What in her psyche would merit the need for such escapism? Is she so unhappy, rooted in her reality, that she must seek the exact polar opposite to find happiness?" "She doesn't look all *that* happy when she's dealing with him," Jules mused. She looked at Patt, "Okay, explain Nick the Lush and his relationship with Shelley." Patt shrugged. "Not sure, but it might be her need for dominance." Jules pulled back a little, her face blank. "Fulfillment is reached in many ways, depending on what you seek," Patt explained. "Where one might seek a mate that is stronger, so that they can lean on and draw their strength from them, the reverse can also be true, i.e. we choose mates that we feel superior too, to boost our own ego. This is the control aspect of a relationship." "I don't think Shelley would agree that she is exerting control over Lush Nick that well," Jules said. "In fact, he seems to be running her ragged." Patt smiled. "Yes, but he is, by his alcohol problem, a weaker character than she is and, even in strife, it allows her to feel superior." "On the other hand, and here I am contradicting myself," Patt said thoughtfully, "this Nick might be a projection of need. A frustrated maternal instinct which derives nurturing by attending to others at the sacrifice of oneself. Is this self- sacrifice, or selfishness so that one will appear to be self- sacrificing? How many mothers have put their children, whom they love dearly, through such guilt?" "Which comes back to control, of sorts," Jules said, seeing the point Patt was making. The ex-Texan smiled. "I prefer to think of Shelley as unselfish, without selfish motivations. . She's the one who usually volunteers to be the designated driver and make sure we all get home okay." Patt nodded. "You're probably right," she conceded. "You'll have to forgive me, but my training is working with dysfunctional families, so I tend to lean toward that area of thinking." "Back to the control element of relationships, the same theory I expressed for Shelley could also be true with Cousinly Merc Lisa and Nicolas Chevalier," Patt began swinging herself at the knees, scuffing at the ground. "Although Chevalier is intelligent, he is an almost effeminate creature, very much subject to Lisa's will. He may take off and have a mind of his own, but ultimately he seems to judge his self-worth by her approval. I haven't seen much of their interaction, but I would suspect that the same is true for her, that she needs his approval as much as he needs hers." "Yin and Yang," Jules said. Patt nodded. "Relationships. All based on the needs of the *host*." "How about the LaCroix who attacked Tser?" Patt shook her head. "Not enough data to make a correlation." Jules suddenly got a wicked smile of her own. "How's about the bird?" Patt laughed. "Well, if I understand it, the bird first showed up to our own Wicked Cousin Tippi, right?" Jules nodded. "Well," Patt leaned back in the swing, extending her legs, "I can think of a hundred different reasons why a bird would want to land on Tip's head--would you care to hear the top ten?" Jules put her hand across her mouth, trying to suppress the laugh behind it. Then, remembering again some of the comparisons they'd discussed, her eyes widened so that her pretty face seemed dominated by the horror they reflected. She looked around quickly into the darkness, then back to Patt. "You're not planning to inform the others of this "theory" are you?" "Heck no," Patt looked at her, aghast. "Do I look like I have a death wish? I don't think anyone would look kindly at having their id and ego dissected, even if it meant getting possible clues about our present situation. No, girl," Patt nodded solemnly, "this conversation is strictly between you and I." "So," Jules said as both women got up from the swings and began the walk back to CERK, "what does your theory say about us *hosts* who haven't gotten a *visitor* yet?" Patt sighed. "Well, either it means that we are a self-contained unit and don't need the ego stroking of a character manifestation," she replied seriously, then cut a grin at Jules, "or . . . we're just not lovable." Both women laughed softly as they left the park. They did not look back. They did not see the thickening in the shadows near the play area which assumed human shape. They did not see the figure's clenched fists and body language which definitely indicated disapproval. ******************************************************************** WAR: Like Sweetness From Heaven (1/1) by Bonnie Rutledge with Heather Poinsett, Kim Colley, Susan Pierce, and Jan Cook-Moore and consent of the N&NP *********************************************************************** Apres la reconnaissance... "Cabon!" the Not-So-Vestal-Virgin Nat commanded. "In here! Now!" As soon as the manager of The Jeweled Peach returned from his mission, he was waylaid by the most terrifying NA person who had ever entered his restaurant doors. He sniffled, remembering The Jan. She ran a close second. She tormented him and made him cry. The wicked woman was seated at his desk! The effrontery! She, and the other four NA members who remained, continued to romp about in little costumes of silver and chiffon. If the women didn't frighten him so, Monsieur Cabon might have drooled. "Cabon!" She was shouting at him again. He cringed. "I see a messenger pigeon has arrived for you. It's not the usual day, is it?" Nat grinned devilishly. "It's not even day! Aren't you going to read it? It might be an emergency." He floundered forward, praying desperately that his fantasy would come true - that finally his orders would read 'Go to Tahiti and sip from zee coconuts,' so he could forget the scary women and their togas forever. He was, as usual, disappointed. Reading the pigeon's missive, he released a gasp of outrage. "Zees, Zees - rangy entree," he said, glaring at the bird, whose feathers ruffled, "has brought a list of instructions for a most unsavory attack!" Nat briefly peeped over his arm at the paper. "I'd say it looks to be a most savory attack," she trilled. In a split second, her expression changed from smiling to fierce. "You *can* get everything, can't you?" "But, of course, I can!" he exclaimed. "But I must call in all the staff! And all that sucre! Pourquoi il faut necessaire?!?" Nat left him to his work, satisfied that Monsieur Cabon was at his most agitated, and, therefore, at his most efficient. Closing the door behind her, she heard him squeal in a most indignant manner, "Zee giant bread! How will I make zees grand pain?!?" *************************************************************************** Jusqu'a l'attaque "Silly me," Susan said as she hefted large, rounded and bumpy objects one at a time out of the warehouse entrance, "I had this strange notion that she'd want to pick on the Unnamed Faction." "Well, I kind of lied to her about the UF," Heather admitted. "I told her that they were fans who couldn't remember what any of the episodes were called, not that they celebrated the Nick/Lacroix relationship in *every* sense. I figured it would be better if our Not-So-Vestal-Virgin Natalie didn't go there. And frankly, most of the time since she's been here, she's indulged a rotten mood. I didn't feel like making it worse." Susan chortled secretively. "Perhaps this adventure will 'sweeten' her disposition." Kim and Jan joined them outside the warehouse. Each woman carried a stack of enormous brown squares that were almost larger than their arm- spans. "Whew!" Kim exclaimed, setting hers on the pavement. "Now we have to secure everything to the baskets, check the burners and cold inflate." These jobs took the three of them a good half-hour. As they tied the last knot and harness, Kim grinned in satisfaction, wiping her hands together. "Now, where did Natalie get to? Doesn't she have the pumps and hoses?" "She's corralling Monsieur Cabon," Susan explained. "The last I heard, he was being tearfully recalcitrant." "I will not do zees ... thing!" the restaurant manager declared emphatically as he stomped from the entrance of the Jeweled Peach. Nat followed closely behind him and carried a heap of laundry, sprayers, rubber tubing, and jumbo trashbags. "You will do 'zees' thing!" Nat argued. "It's part of your job!" "Meep!" he replied, then began to blubber. "Cheer up, Cabon." Nat clapped him on the back with her free hand. "You really do like us, you just don't know that you do." She turned her attention to Susan. "Why don't you help Monsieur fetch the 'copter? We wouldn't want him to get lost, now would we? We'll meet you at St. Michael's. Kim, Heather, Jan - can you help me move the tubs outside so we can load them into the taxi?" "Are you sure you don't want me to come along?" Jan asked, a 'pretty- please?' in her eyes. Jan wasn't only addicted to Nunkies - she was addicted to mayhem, too. Nat shook her head and gave her a consoling smile. "Someone's got to guard the place with the remaining air hose." Strangely enough, the Not-So-Vestal-Virgin Nat was the only one not wearing a toga and trenchcoat. She'd gone rummaging in the Wardrobe room earlier and changed into jeans and a T-shirt, had on knee-high black boots, and there was a piece of black silk covering her hair. She'd wanted something that looked like a dagger in a scabbard to attach at her waist, but addicts weren't allowed to play with sharp objects, and there had been none to be found. NA arguments could become rather heated (partly due to all that passion for Nunkies floating around), and it was through general agreement that the worst ones only ended in bondage or fisticuffs. That way, permanent bad feelings or injuries were less likely. They broke a lot of things by being rowdy, though. Heather, Kim and Natalie loaded into the taxi, and, after watching them safely off, Jan returned to finish inflating the colorful envelopes spread out in the side-street. The trio's taxi reached the hospital in less than a minute. While Nat unloaded, Heather and Kim ran inside and requisitioned wheelchairs. They had decided to roll all their equipment, rather than carry. The troupe reached the hospital's emergency helicopter pad just as Monsieur Cabon and Susan touched down. They swiftly hefted everything on board, then Cabon and Susan lifted off again. Heather, Kim and Nat rushed downstairs and piled back into the waiting cab, the zoomed back to the Peach. The reason for the complicated trip was simple: Nunkies Anonymous had learned from observing past wars that the sky was the limit. Vampires weren't the only ones who could swoop in from above, and while many factions had started to put cameras and other doohickeys on their rooftops, they simply didn't have the manpower to watch the entire sky. Having a helicopter pad two blocks down the street was close enough for the addicts, and helped maintain their privacy. Reaching the Peach, Kim and Heather bailed from the cab and ran over to their waiting baskets, checked their flames, temperature sensors and vents, then gave a thumbs-up sign to Nat. The taxi, Ms. Lambert still inside, sped off once more. Jan watched Kim and Heather, standing by in case of problems, as their envelopes gradually became vertical and they prepared to lift off. Jan released the ties securing them against the asphalt and observed, enthralled, as the two hot air balloons floated upward. The flames from their burners illuminated the images emblazoned on the silk in sharp relief to the night sky. One sported the 'Lucius In Repose' portrait, and the other carried a beautiful logo with the words, 'Kickstart the Knight' and 'Forever Knight - Forever In Our Blood' on the other side. Jan sighed at the tranquility of the sight - it seemed odd that something appeared so peaceful as it set off to do such havoc - and in a world gone crazy, no less. ************************************************************************** En glacant le theatre Not-So-Vestal-Virgin Natalie had the cabbie drop her off half a block from the theatre and wait. Since her outfit made her resemble someone who was supposed to be there, she nonchalantly strolled by the front and peeked at the alley to double-check that, yes, the security cameras they taken long-range photos of still pointed at street-level, not above. She hadn't stepped right up to the building yet, and though she suspected that, being a theatre, the place was soundproofed to a heavy extent to prevent causing a public disturbance, she though she could pick up faint voices. Sylvester Stallone? Antonio Banderas? She grinned, remembering that film. It hadn't been too bad - well, the cat was gorgeous. Nat liked movies with animals. she shrugged, As though on cue, the helicopter became visible in the distance. Nat looked up into the dark sky and gave a happy grin. The aerial photos Jan had taken told the Not-So's that there were cameras on the roof, but like the ones lower on the building, they pointed to the roof surface around the entrance, not up into the sky. she giggled to herself. Monsieur Cabon groaned from the passenger's seat once more. Susan had bonked him on the head and taken over the pilot duties so that she could have a moment of peace and quiet (well, as much peace and quiet as you could get in a working helicopter. Several of the addicts were aeronautically inclined. Anyone who called them 'flighty' got pinched, though. The major drawback was that addicts were always going off to boot camp and being sorely missed. Cabon recovered enough of his senses to start complaining again. "This ees my reward for putting zee Royal Canadian Air Force on my resume, non? For flying zee Vampire jets, I am forced to abuse zee ladies and gentlemen! For zee patriotic duty, I goop zee theatre!" "Eah - put a sock in it and spray," Susan said, pulling the formerly- an-air-hose-but-now-used-for-shooting-frosting control handle forward. He moved to a seated position, his feet dangling out the cargo door of the 'copter, and looked very unhappy. Susan decided to yell at him. "Drop a little lower, Cabon! You've got five hundred kilos of frosting to spread, and not a lot of time to do it in!" He started at the top edge of the brick building, spraying the thick, white concoction of sugar, shortening and vanilla in enthusiastic globs and watched in disgust as it slowly dripped to street level. Within minutes, each wall of dark brick was now pristine white. Susan maneuvered the helicopter to above the building front, and Cabon began spraying the final side. By this time, the two hot air balloons could be seen closing in from above as well. That was Nat's cue to begin her ground work. She had two enormous trashbags filled with giant candy canes, about ten centimeters in diameter and a meter long, seeing the balloonists lower their ladders, climb down, and begin to drop their goodies, Nat rapidly placed a row of candy in the frosting where the building met the street. "We'll sweep the roof with the last of the frosting," Susan ordered, back in the helicopter. "I bet it's stiffening fast on the building now that it isn't under pressure anymore. One more minute, and we're out of here." Cabon looked almost disappointed. He had just started to enjoy himself and swung the spray hose about with excited flair. Heather dangled from her balloon's ladder, praying that the harness wrapped around her waist would never be put to the test. She tossed gumdrops the size of cantaloupes into the frosting at the top of each wall, making a colorful and bumpy trim. Kim, who continued to wonder how someone who knew so very little about hot air balloons could be talked into risking life and limb by floating one around a metropolis filled with raised electrical wires, had gingerbread duty. She smacked them firmly into the white, hardening goo as quickly as her arms could manage. As they finished their decorations and climbed back into their baskets, Nat finished up the final touches to the project. By the time the balloonists had their burners lit and were ascending into the dark night once more, the helicopter was a faint memory. Nat unrolled a voluminous banner and stuck each of the four corners into the frosting. The icing now had a sticky, glue-like consistency that kept the fabric firmly in place. Not-So-Vestal-Virgin Nat gave a quick triumphant smile as she read the message a final time, then scooted into the waiting taxi and out of sight. Within an hour, everyone was home at the Peach, celebrating the success of their mission, among other things. The happy mood was so infectious that even Monsieur Cabon allowed his lips to stretch into the faintest soucon of a grin. Everyone wondered just what the Nick & Natpackers would do when they discovered their theatre now looked like a gingerbread house. Not to be outshone, the giant banner that Nat had left with a charactiture of a mortal, overweight Nick scarfing pizza and ice cream was destined to be a popular topic of conversation, but Nat's favorite, very personal touch was the message on the fabric written in letters a meter tall, 'Nat & Lacroix, Forever'. *************************************************************************** La maison du pain d'epice...quel doux! Fin Send Comments to br1035@ix.netcom.com War: NA: MacNunkies (1/1) by Bonnie Rutledge Guest of Honor: Heather Poinsett with Jan Cook-Moore, Susan Pierce, Kim Colley N-S-V-V Nat and Sidney the Sheepdog Concurrent and after 'Sweetness From Heaven', just after 'Home Brew' ************************************************************************** Jan felt a fair degree of disappointment that she hadn't been able to join the others in the grand-scale attack. It hardly seemed fair that she should miss out on all the action. she thought as she imagined Kim and Heather dangling from hot-air balloons in the night sky, In the end, she pushed away any gloom and concentrated on the big picture: The Not-So-Vestal-Virgins were wreaking havoc against the Nick & Natpackers to such a sweet extent that the calmest of dentists would have a breakdown on the spot from envisioning the future cavities. Jan gave a satisfied chuckle. Strolling to the Greenroom, Jan trimmed several dozen white roses from the bushes as well as greenery. She took these to the Shrine, refilled the incensoirs, then hiked to the Wardrobe room. Pulling the ladder to one of the uppermost shelves in the corner, Jan uncovered a bounty of patterned fabric. She carried this back to the Shrine, and began to trim the chamber with garlands of flowers and the MacIntyre tartan. As she heard the other Not-So-Vestal-Virgins return, Jan hurriedly lit the candles atop the special Scottish tiramisu she'd prepared (The Scottish part came from the liberal doses of whiskey she'd added.) Susan entered, then Kim and Nat. Monsieur Cabon was allowed inside as well, seeing as how he was now truly their partner in crime. Heather walked into the Shrine last, and her eyes widened with delighted surprise. "Happy Birthday, Heather!" everyone shouted. Sidney the Sheepdog, who'd been busy in the kitchen after, clambered to join them at the first sign of excitement. His puppy eyes filled with joy as he noticed the new plaid drapery, and Sidney the Sheepdog immediately tried to climb some. "Oh, Sid-ney!!" everyone yelled. Realizing that popular opinion was not with him, the sheepdog rolled over onto his back, sticking his substantial furry limbs straight into the air. In his own humble canine opinion, he looked deader than a doornail. Jan sighed, tickled the dog's tummy, then said, "Enough fooling around, Sidney. Fetch Heather's present. Do you remember where I put it?" "Row-urf!" Sidney answered, them lumbered out of the room. He remembered the gift, because he'd spent the past half hour licking and chewing its pretty paper off in the laboratory/kitchen. "Guys, you remembered!" Heather looked flushed and happy. "Ooo! You'd better blow out the candles!" Kim exclaimed. "They're going to melt the frosting!" Everyone gave a momentary grimace at the word 'frosting'. Heather took in a deep breath, and laid waste to the tiny fires. "You realize that technically it's still the thirteenth, and not really my birthday, don't you?" "Yes," Nat answered, "but after discussing it, we decided that if we pretended time really was passing, this would be your birthday. If the clocks ever unstick, well, we'll just have to celebrate again, now won't we?" Sidney returned, holding a large box with chewed corners in his mouth. Remnants of what used to be festive wrapping and ribbons trailed behind him. Kim gingerly took the package from the sheepdog, but couldn't quite manage to avoid all of the slobber. "Eehhww...Er, open up what left of it, Heather." Heather greedily ripped it open. It was a new tapestry, cross-stitched by the members of Nunkies Anonymous, that depicted Lacroix in full Scottish regalia. She breathed a sigh of heady pleasure. "Och...MacNunkies! *drool* *drool*" "Hey! He's not wearing the MacIntyre weave!" Susan noticed. Heather pressed the tapestry to her chest in the throes of bliss. "No..." she sighed and smiled secretively. "It's the MacIntosh." "There's something else," Kim said, holding out a rolled up piece of parchment. "Bons left an excerpt from the Nunkies Fantasy Manual for you." Heather unrolled the paper, read, then collapsed into a puddle. After Susan brandished a photo of the U.S. Speaker of the House, Heather murmured, "Oh...my." "Wait," Jan said. "Aren't you going to read it aloud?" "As if everyone in the world wants to hear about my personal, private encounter with MacNunkies," Heather scoffed. "We do!" Kim said. "Yeah," Heather said as she gestured in the direction of the reader's monitor. "But *they* don't. Anyone who wants to read about Nunkies in a kilt can go to our webpage. Here, you guys can read it to yourselves." So they laughed, melted, ate tiramisu, did jigs, melted some more, and celebrated Heather's birthday as well as their successful attack. Soon though, they had visitors - more Nunkies addicts - and one of them was unconscious. *************************************************************************** Fin for now Bonnie Rutledge, Caffeine Achiever, Insomniac br1035@ix.netcom.com Nunkies Anonymous Homepage: http://www.geocities.com/~br1035/nunkies.html *************************************************************************** "Just Give Me a Buzz if You Need Me" By Cousin Tser People here within used with permission. Thanks so kindly!! Beta Readers: {{{{{Cousin Senara and Cousin Toni}}}}} Takes place a while after "Wherefore Thou Alone" * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * And doom'd to death, though fated not to die. ~~ Dryden * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Tser sat silently in the War Room with the LaCroix that had attacked her, a slight distance away. He had moved himself to the War Room and sat staring into nothing, nursing a glass of blood. Tser felt it her responsibility to be with him -- to keep track of him at least. He had moved to the War Room for quiet. Occasionally, Cousin Shelley brought up a Cousin to register a new alternate being, but other than that, the War Room was as empty and private as one could hope to find. LaCroix didn't seem to mind Tser's presence... in very least, he ignored her. He sat in silence, fingering the stem of the wine glass. He had been silent since they had left the Cousinly Salon, and Tser didn't break the stillness, letting him brood. It was the very least Tser could think to do. After all, he had just been delivered from hell to learn that he had to return. Tser was having a hard time thinking straight herself, and let him to his thoughts. It was he who broke the silence. "It will be... interesting," he said quietly, pausing to sip at the blood, "to return." "Interesting?" Tser asked a lump suddenly forming in her throat. "Ah, yes. Because you see, you've restored me to health. That means another eternity to go hungry," LaCroix said. Tser remained silent. LaCroix's expression was thoughtful. "'And, dying, bless the hand that gave the blow,'" he quoted, voice barely more than a whisper. "Perhaps," he said, then trailed off, hand tight on the stem of his glass. He smiled wryly. "Perhaps, Cousin Tserisa, it would have been better for me if your friend's blow had been lethal. Ah, but no such luck, because an immortal being is exceedingly hard to kill. Such a pity." Tser's eyes widened and she stared at LaCroix angrily. "With all due respect, sir," she said through clenched teeth, "don't talk like that. And don't you ever, ever let Patt hear you say that." LaCroix seemed slightly amused at Tser's sudden burst of acrimony. "But you must agree that what waits for me in my reality is hell," he stated. Tser licked dry lips. "I can't deny that," she said. "I don't think anyone will, or can. But how...." She opened her mouth, then paused and closed it again. LaCroix locked his eyes on hers, a very unsettling gaze. "You were going to ask how I knew the same didn't wait for me in death," he said simply. He took another sip from his tightly held wine glass, his face a mask of calm, only his blue eyes betraying the turmoil within. "Not exactly," Tser murmured. *How dark can your existence be when compared to an eternal void...?* LaCroix's voice from the fateful last night echoed in her mind. LaCroix held the glass up to his mouth, but didn't drink from it. "I don't want to send you back," Tser said, strain evident in her voice. "I can't -- imagine -- doing it." "Ah, but you see no way around it," LaCroix said simply. "No, I don't. The others, they want to go home. But no one wants you to go back," Tser said. LaCroix stared into space, his eyes distant. "And because of this, you are going to...?" He shook his head very slightly when Tser didn't answer. "Right," he said. "You'll do nothing. You can do *nothing*. A fate -- a fate worse than death awaits me, and you, nor anyone, can do a thing about it." He looked over at Tser with a slight, ironic smile, one that held no happiness. "And you know, I can see that it's tearing you and the other Cousins up inside." His hand clenched tightly on the wine glass, betrayed his anguish past his bitter calm. The glass looked like it would shatter under the strain. He stood, setting the glass down gently on the polished, round, War Table, and left the room quietly without another word. Tser remained, staring at the still half-full glass of blood. She watched as a tiny bead of blood squeezed through a hairline crack in the flute. It slid down the glass, pooling on the table below. * * * * * * * * * * * * Later, in the Rec Room of CERK "You're sure you don't mind if I leave?" Cousin Tserisa asked LaCroix. "I can stay." She immediately regretted saying it. His eyes flashed and he scowled at her. "You're forgetting who you're dealing with," he said sharply. Tser wasn't sure whether he referred to the fact he was LaCroix or the fact he had been alone in a desolate world for more than half a century. Either way, he was right... he didn't need anyone to take care of him. "Sorry," Tser murmured. "I'll be at 'Hilly's Hair House' if you need me. I've delayed a haircut far too long." She reached up and ran her fingers through her two-inch long hair. "If you need me to do anything, just call me, okay?" she said. "You have my cell phone number. And I'm sure any other cousins would be glad to do anything you need, as well." He looked at her for a moment, as if turning the matter over in his mind. His scowling expression softened. "I'll keep it in mind," he said softly and stood. He glared in the direction of the ceiling where a loud, hawk-like scree was coming from the distance. "*What* is that?" he growled. Tser shrugged as she put her wallet in her pocket. "I think it's Fred the Eagle. He misses LaCroix -- the one from this reality, whoever and whichever he is -- I guess. He's been making that noise ever since the war started. He's gotten a lot louder, though. At first it wasn't noticeable," she explained quietly. "I have to go. I'll be back soon. Pax," she said, turning to leave. LaCroix raised his eyebrows. "For a while," he said, wry amusement in his tone, though his face betrayed none of it. Tser stopped and turned back towards him. He stood and left the salon where he and Tser had been sitting, probably heading to his private room. He didn't turn back towards the startled cousin who remained. * * * * * * * * * * * * continued in part two "Just Give Me a Buzz if You Need Me" by Cousin Tser continued from part one * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Tser swallowed and went down into the lobby, leaving CERK through the front, nodding to the two cousins stationed at the front desk. She wondered about what he said. It was a habit now that she said "Pax" as good-bye -- she supposed it started when she found she was truly a Nunkies Addict, and had started learning Latin. She knew how to say all sorts of interesting, Cousinly things, like "Vacca sanguis fatuus" (stupid cow's blood). Pax meant "peace" and Tser tended to use it liberally. It was LaCroix's response that threw her. "Peace -- for a while." Tser wondered what he meant. That when the rift closed peace would be lost for him? Tser wasn't sure, and for some reason, she didn't think that's what he had intended. Tser pushed the matter from her mind and sighed, smiling slightly at the perfect night. It was clear, and the moon was full. A perfect, long, long night. It was cool, but the air was still. Hilly's Hair House wasn't far from CERK, so Tser decided to walk. It was a short distance, and Tser arrived there quickly. She looked inside at the bright, fluorescent lighting. It was a little too bright for Tser, but she was very glad that the hair salon was open 24 hours. Otherwise, they would have closed as night fell on Friday the 13th and maybe never opened again, depending on when the rift closed. She opened the door and a bell dinged as she walked in. The slightly overweight, long-haired receptionist looked up from some paperwork she was doing and smiled. "Hello, I'm Hilly," she said. "Yeah," Tser said, noting Hilly's rather atrocious melon-orange dress. "I'd like a haircut." "Okay," Hilly said. "Have a seat." She motioned to the chair. "What would you like done?" Tser sat down and looked critically in the mirror. "A buzz cut to half an inch," she said. Hilly got out the equipment and got to work. She babbled on all the while. Tser basically ignored her except to murmur "Mm hm," in agreement once and a while, her mind preoccupied with war. Tser heard the bell of the door ring and was snapped from her thoughts. She glanced over without disturbing Hilly's labors, and narrowed her eyes when she saw who it was. It was Crystal, a Vaquera. Tser glared at her in a very good impression of Cousine Moses as Crystal moved over to the rack of shampoos, hair sprays and conditioners. She noticed Tser and glared back with icy blue eyes. "All done," Hilly said in an annoying, sing-song voice. "Thank you," Tser grumbled, pulling out her wallet, and handing Hilly payment. The tiny hairs from her haircut were tickling her at the back of her neck, making her even more irritated than the mere presence of a Vaquera could. "Hello," Crystal said icily. "Hello," Tser replied cooly, eyes narrowed. The dark blond haired Vaquera moved towards the counter and placed an absolutely huge bottle of shampoo on it. She then went back and got another. She could only carry one at a time, they were so large. "I'd like to buy these please," she said to Hilly. Hilly grinned and began to ring them up. Tser hung back and watched the transaction with interest. "Why are you lingering?" Crystal asked Tser irritably. "I was wondering *why* you would need so *MUCH* shampoo," Tser said lightly, staying in case she could get any more information out of her. Crystal looked at Tser suspiciously. "There's no reason to tell you," Crystal said. "I can imagine it's a hassle to be surrounded by people with long hair." Tser grinned evilly, running her hand across her newly buzz cut hair, now even shorter than the General's own, though by only a little bit. Crystal shrugged, not giving up any information. "Better than bald," Crystal said sharply. Tser's lip curled up in a sneer. Crystal hefted one large bottle of shampoo into each arm and staggered from the salon without a backwards glance. Tser waited until she was far enough away, then left the hair salon herself, heading back to CERK. She turned the matter over in her mind. It was true that if they had quite a few duplicates of Vachons -- well, they would *definitely* need a lot of shampoo. She grinned at the thought. A *lot*. Shampoo for one head of Vachon-hair alone would probably strain their budget, not to mention a bunch of duplicates' Vachon-hair. Then again, they *could* have something else in mind for the bulk load of shampoo, and Tser decided to report it just in case. She couldn't get over her Cousinly suspicion. Tser arrived back at CERK quickly, and went right up to the room she shared with Cousin Rust. Cousin Gwendolyn, Cousine Moses and her yet unnamed bird were not to be seen, but Tser didn't worry to much about it. They were allowed to roam CERK as they pleased. She patted Cousin Spooky on the head and headed into the bathroom for a quick shower to wash the tiny hairs from the buzz off. She looked in the mirror with satisfaction. It was so nice to have her hair that short again. After her shower, she dressed in a long, "droopy", black dress and headed back down to find her LaCroix. She checked the Cousinly Salon first, but he wasn't there. She waved to Cousin Rust, who was sitting in a large comfy chair, listening to "Unforgiven" play on the Cousinly sound system. Rust waved back. Tser checked the lobby, and several of the other public rooms. Her LaCroix was nowhere to be found. She palmed open the elevator to the War Room and checked there too. Nowhere. Tser headed back down to the lobby. She checked the whole building over once more before she started panicking. She went up to the cousins at the front desk. "Did you see a LaCroix leave here?" Tser asked, desperation evident in her voice. "Your LaCroix?" the Cousin asked, frowning. "No, I haven't," she said sympathetically. Tser made her way back to the Cousinly Salon, collapsing in a squooshy chair, cradling her head in her hands. She had lost him. What were the Cousinly Leaders going to say? She had lost LaCroix. * * * * * * * * * * fini Close Encounters of the Natalie Kind 2/2 by Annie Raper Beta read by Libby Singleton and Cousin Robi Time: After CEotNK 1/2 and prior to 'The Quad Arrives at CERK' Kinda concurrent with 'Ratpacker Realization' Robi used by permission ----------------------------------------------------------------------- She could tell she was closer to her man. She could smell his very essence in the air and it filled her with delight. *He* was close by, and soon, hopefully, she would be in his arms once again. In fact, she thought she could detect his presence just around the corner. Full of anticipation, she ran to meet him. And ran smack into Cousins Annie and Robi. "Ack!!" "Hey! Watch where you're going, lady!" "Hey! Aren't you Natalie?" Natalie smoothed her clothing. "Er, yes. Yes, I am. Are you all right? I'm so sorry," she said, "but I thought you were someone else." Annie stuck out her hand in greeting, "Hello, Natalie. I'm Annie and this is Robi." Natalie shook the Cousins' hands. "This is the second time tonight that I've been mistaken for someone else, I hope it isn't catching." Robi nodded in agreement. "You won't believe what happened to Annie, Nat. Er," she paused, looking at the coroner. "I *can* call you Nat, can't I?" "Of course," Natalie said. "What happened to Annie?" Annie opened her mouth to tell the horrible tale, but Robi cut her off. "I'd better tell this, Annie. Telling it again may send you into another stupor," she said as she rubbed Annie's back. "Annie was accosted by a Screed who thought she was you and kissed her with a big, wet Screedy-slurp." A strange, sick look crossed Natalie's face. "He did *what*?" was all she was able to say. "He kissed her. Terrifying thought, isn't it?" Robi asked. "Yes." Natalie took a few steps backward. "He kissed you? He thought you were me? Wait till I get my hands on him! Why would he think you were me?" Annie was beginning to think that something wasn't quite right with this Natalie. "In certain lights, if the wind is blowing right and my hair is behaving, I *do* look like you, sort of," Annie said as she tucked a stray curl behind her ear. "I have an extensive scrunchii collection, too. So I can see where he might've gotten confused. The worst of it was that he said I smelled like a laboratory!" Annie's face contorted in anguish. "I can't believe it! A laboratory!" Natalie went pale. "You smell like a lab? Well, that's a fine kettle of fish. What did you do with him?" "I wiggled out of the kiss, wiped my mouth and sent him on his rat-sucking way!" Annie said. "What do you think I did with him?" Natalie sighed in relief and laughed. "Oh, I don't know. But don't you think he's a good kisser?" "Heaven's no! She doesn't think so!" Robi chimed in. "It took the official Nunkies Anonymous Smelling Salts and a copy of 'Lucius in Repose' to snap her out of her revulsion." Robi rolled her eyes. "Like it! Geez! It's not like the guy is housebroken or anything. He's not anywhere close to Nunkies." "Hey! We're working on it!" Nat sputtered. "He can't help it if he's a little... slow to learn new concepts!" The two cousins looked at each other in horrified amazement as the realization that this Natalie Lambert, ME, is involved with Screed hit them full in the face. Natalie looked at them innocently. "What is it? Is something wrong? Are you two OK?" Annie looked at Natalie. "Um, er, we're fine. Um, I hope you don't think this is impertinent, but *you* and *Screed*? Together? In the biblical sense?" Natalie nodded her head. "You're his 'Docsie-Wocsie'? His 'Natsie-Ratsie'?" Natalie raised her hand and said, "Guilty as charged." "Oh, Nunkies! Help us all!" Robi said. "What's wrong with Screed?" Natalie asked. "He's sweet, he's relatively clean for a carouche, and he knows how to treat a lady, *if* you know what I mean. It's not like Nick is ever gonna...." she trailed off. "I get the picture," Annie said, holding up her hand in a plea for Nat to stop. "The last I saw him, he sucked down a rat over there," Annie pointed towards the alleyway, "and 'swooshed' off in that direction. If it's any consolation, he was very upset that I wasn't you. Cried and everything." Natalie put her hand over her heart. "He cried, for me?" Annie nodded, sending reddish brown curls bouncing. "Oh, how sweet!" Natalie exclaimed. "Whatever," Robi said. "Annie? What about your tennis shoes? *And*.... we need to get back to CERK. Cerberus called a meeting and all Cousins need to be there. Nunkies wouldn't be pleased if you missed it." Annie pondered the issue for a moment. "Who is this Munkies Robi keeps mentioning?" Natalie asked. Annie rolled her eyes. "Nunkies! It's Nunkies, not Munkies. Nunkies with an 'N'. It's a term of affection for Lacroix." The two addicts sighed in unison. "We think he's the cat's meow, the cream of the crop, the tower of....." "And I get your picture," Nat said. "Well, to each his own, though you guys must really be desperate. You said he went that way, Annie?" Natalie asked, pointing in the same direction Annie had. Annie nodded. "Good. If you two don't mind, I'll leave you to your 'Nunkies'. Thanks for your help, Annie and Robi. If you need anything, please call me." She fumbled in her pocket and retrieved two business cards. "Stop by the morgue anytime." With that, she was off. Annie watched her disappear down the street. "Well, it takes all kinds. Robi, you head on back to CERK; I'll catch up directly. I wanna look one more place for my shoes. Although it looks like I'm gonna have to wait on my tennies. I'm sure I'll find Libby sooner or later." The two addicts hugged each other and parted ways: Robi towards CERK and Annie towards University. ************************************************** Annie Raper EARaper@aol.com Cousin~CotK~Valentine~Founder, Nunkies Anonymous~FKXS~FORp LC:"I do *not* have a warm and fuzzy side!" Oh, but Nunkies, we know you do! http://www.geocities.com/~br1035/nunkies.html "Keeping Them Collared" by Cousin Tser People and characters within used with permission. Very Helpful Beta Reader: Cousin Robi (Thank you!) Takes place after "Just Give Me a Buzz if You Need Me". * * * * * * * LaCroix moved stealthily among the streets. It had been easy enough to depart unnoticed from CERK, simply waiting until Cousin Tser had left, then moving silently into the starfilled night. LaCroix smiled up at the full moon. Night, eternal night. It had been a long time since the moon had looked so beautiful, not blood-red from ice and fire in the air as in his reality. He didn't even have to worry about finding a place to shelter from the sun, since dawn would never come. Not if he had anything to do with it. He knew that the Cousins were worried about him. They all seemed to care about him. But they could do nothing. They believed that no matter what happened, he would have to return to the hell he had been torn from. Rather pessimistic, he thought. But he knew they were only taking into consideration all the other countless alternate beings, both mortal and immortal, who had been ripped from their own realities. He smiled mirthlessly. His very presence caused them angst and despair. Never the less, he'd return to the Cousins' headquarters when he had acquired what he wanted. The bright, eternal night was quite conducive to LaCroix's plans. Cousin Tser had said the rift would most likely heal best if all elements were back in their respective realities. All elements... that included himself. Tser had admitted that it wasn't necessarily *crucial* that everything went back. But having two LaCroixs, rather than the one native General, in one reality would really cause instability. LaCroix smiled wryly. Of course, the other stray elements from the rift should go back too. The tear would most likely heal, Tser had hinted, if everything was properly placed. LaCroix's mind flew back to his own reality, where he had been only days before. It was a ball of grey ice and death. Eternal torture, hunger and loneliness. The dead had long since rotted in their graves -- those who were fortunate enough to have graves -- and the air had long since turned to poison when there were no more plants to provide oxygen. His children, his kind were gone. Janette and Nick and Natalie had long since died. And so suddenly he had found himself thrust here, in a reality where no comet threatened the earth and her life-giving occupants. So sudden and so welcome. He was beginning to wish that it had never happened. That he hadn't caught the glimpse of salvation, only to face the reality that he must return. Being in this reality was causing many mortals pain. But returning was unthinkable. His mind was elsewhere as he walked silently down the street. He knew what he was looking for. When he saw a small cat dart into an alley, he rushed after it in a burst of inhuman speed. He caught it and supported it gently, holding it firmly. He could have sworn it yelled "Hey!" but dismissed the thought. He smiled slightly as he noticed the heart shaped tag on its collar. "Hello, Sidney," he said, chuckling wryly. "You know, I've always liked cats. So aloof, so noble, so elegant," he said, as he removed the cat's black collar and placed Sidney back on the ground. "So useful." The cat glared up at him and shook his fur, licking one paw daintily. LaCroix looked at the silver tagged collar with interest and then placed it in his pocket. "Thank you, cat," he said, and turned to leave the alley. He could have sworn the cat muttered after him, "Creep." * * * * * * * Cousin Tser felt terrible. She had let the Cousins down by allowing the LaCroix from the comet-crushed world to escape into the eternal nighttime Toronto. He was nice enough, but Tser knew he was in a somewhat desperate mood. She didn't blame him. The Cousinly Leaders had assured her it was okay -- after all, he *was* LaCroix, and he could fend for himself. They didn't really have the right to keep him cooped up anyway. These assurances were not enough to comfort Tser. Cousin Tser was languishing in the lobby, when the phone at the front desk ran. She wished she could have the comfort of the Shrine of Nunkies and was seriously debating whether or not to head over. She needed solace. She heard the Cousin at reception pick up the phone, and listened idly to the one-sided conversation. "Hello, CERK," the Cousin said. "Um, I don't know... Well, there's a lot of 'em running around and you can't expect us to.... Cat? Well, no, I don't know.... I haven't seen a cat's collar around here lately, except on the Cousinly kitties.... Sure, I'll keep an eye out...." She hung up the phone. Tser walked over to the desk. "What was that?" she asked. The Cousin shrugged. "Some FosSiL named Sharon Lee. Says a LaCroix stole her cat's collar when the cat was missing, went off on his own." The Cousin rolled her eyes. "I don't know why they expect *us* to be in charge of every General who appears in the city. LaCroixs are notorious for being self-guided." Tser frowned. "Do you have her number?" The Cousin shrugged again and handed Tser a slip of paper. "Sure, she gave it to me in case we found the collar." Tser looked down at the piece of paper then up at the Cousinly Receptionist. "Thanks," she said. "Don't mention it," the receptionist said, picking up the phone, which was ringing once again. Tser went up to the War Room, which tended to be quieter than the lobby or other public rooms, and pulled out her cell phone. She dialed the numbers tensely. "Hello?" came a voice. "Um, is this Sharon Lee? A FoSiL?" Tser asked nervously, her heart beating hard in her chest. The voice turned suspicious. "Who's this?" "Um, my name is Tserisa. I...." She broke off. "I lost my LaCroix," she said sheepishly. "I heard your cat's collar was stolen by a LaCroix, and I'm just checking every lead." "Well, sort of. It's not my cat," Sharon Lee said. "It's *Sidney's* collar that was stolen. But with all these alternate people running around, I don't know if its *our* Sidney or not." Tser paused, processing this new information. "Did you get a good look at the LaCroix that took the collar?" "Actually, no. I didn't even see him," Sharon Lee said. Tser frowned. "Then how did you know it was a LaCroix who stole the collar?" Tser asked skeptically. "Uh, well...." Sharon Lee paused. "I can't tell you. But I'm ABSOLUTELY *sure* that it was a LaCroix. You have to trust me." Tser nearly snorted. She found it unlikely she could trust *anyone* from another faction during wartime. Whether or not that was a Cousinly trait was for others to decide. But she decided to humor anyone with a hint at her LaCroix's whereabouts. This FosSiL might be her only chance at locating him. "Why don't we meet?" Tser and Sharon Lee made arrangements to meet in a neutral place. They couldn't meet at "Happy Souvlaki" because of the hordes of nameless FoDs it attracted, and the Raven was out of the question, as was anything too close to CERK. They settled on "Grandfather's ~Garlic-Free~ Pizza", one of the most neutral (and least stinky) places in Toronto. * * * * * * * Tser left for "Grandfather's Pizza" immediately. As she was leaving through the lobby, Cousin Gwen trotted elegantly up to her and let out a demanding "mew." "Uh, well, I *guess* you can come with me," Tser said, knowing she had no choice in the matter. Tser arrived first, and picked a nice private booth in the back of the dimly-lit restaurant. She looked over the menu, noting all the different varieties of Garlic-Free pizza, but didn't order anything but a small cola. She wasn't very hungry, and the pre-arranged meeting made her jumpy. Cousin Gwendolyn, who managed to sneak in despite the "No Pets Except For Goats Allowed" sign, sat on the bench next to Cousin Tser, closest to the wall. "Hmm, look at this, Gwen," Tser said. "Chocolate pizza with extra cheese. Sounds like Ratpacker-Merc-fodder." Sharon Lee arrived soon after, and saw Tser in the back, recognizing her by her LaCroix-like haircut. Sharon Lee had a cat partially hidden under her cardigan sweater... Tser could see the grey tabby-striped tail sticking out the bottom. The restaurant personnel didn't seem to notice, though. She sidled into the booth across from Tser and let Sidney out onto the bench. Sidney shook his fur and licked a few stray hairs into place. Like Tser, Sharon Lee was wearing all black. Sharon Lee extended her hand. "I'm Sharon," she said. Tser accepted the handshake. "Tser," she said. Cousin Gwendolyn was watching the sleek, silver-tabby tom. "Meow," she said. "Meow," Sidney replied, politely, to the petite tortishell manx. "Well, now that the pleasantries are over," Tser prodded. "Uh, yes," Sharon Lee said. "Well, Sidney's collar was swiped by a LaCroix. He was rather gaunt looking, if LaCroix can look gaunt. He grabbed Sidney, plucked him right up, and stole the collar, then put him down." "I thought you didn't see," Tser said, confused. "I didn't," Sharon said matter-of-factly. Tser licked her lips, even more confused. "Then how do you know what he looked like and what he did?" Cousin Gwen and Sidney looked at one another and rolled their eyes. The gesture wasn't lost on Tser and she dropped the subject. She didn't think Sharon Lee was going to tell her anyway. "Well," Tser said, "a gaunt LaCroix certainly sounds like mine. Where was it that he took Sidney's collar?" "It was an alley near the Four Seasons hotel," Sharon said. "That's at the corner of Cumberland and Avenue, near Yorkville. Really close to the Royal Ontario Museum." "I'll try to get the collar back," Tser assured her, smiling. "Thanks so much. You've been a big help. You be sure to call me if you need anything." Tser gave Sharon her cell phone number and email address. "While I'm in Toronto, this is the number where you can reach me... either that or call CERK and ask for Cousin Tser." "Thanks," Sharon said. "I'll make sure to keep that in mind. I'll watch for your LaCroix, too." They stood to leave, and Tser threw a tip on the table -- with a little extra since Gwen and Sidney had left cat hairs on the benches. The FoSiL and the Cousin discreetly left the restaurant, a cat hidden beneath Sharon's black cardigan and one hiding beneath Tser's floor length black dress. Once outside, the cats freed themselves from their disguises as articles of clothing. "Thanks again," Tser said. "And good luck. May all your nights be long and bright and all your cars have trunks." "Anything for a fellow cat-person. By the way," Sharon asked as they prepared to go their separate ways. "*Why* would LaCroix steal a cat's collar, and do nothing else?" Tser shrugged. "I don't know," she replied. "Well, bye," Sharon Lee asked. They waved and departed. Tser walked slowly down the sidewalk, Cousin Gwen trotting along beside her. Tser had a sinking suspicion she *did* know. * * * * * * * fini ************** WAR: Home Brew-ha-ha Part 1/3 After: "Observations" and "Does Your Faction Know . . ." By Patt Elmore Beta by Bons and Jules--they work for "virtually" nothing ************** As Jules and Patt made their way back to the front door of CERK, Bonnie came bounding out. "There you both are!" she exclaimed, bouncing up to them with her normal perky grin. "I was getting worried. Couldn't find you anywhere and the Penguin has disappeared. You know, there are a lot of bird snobs among the Cousins. Also, the guy with the toga seems to have made an escape. I was sure looking forward to some more show-n-tell with him." Patt and Jules just looked at the girl. Bonnie continued, unabated. "Julsey! Cherri called. Cherri wants you to confirm that the guitar is well-hidden and she wasn't willing to take my word for it." Bonnie looked perplexed. "I wonder why not, since I was the one who hid it. Oh, well," she said, her face brightening once again. Bonnie fell into step behind the other two Cousins, continuing her patter. "Cherri may just be a little nervous, you know. She's probably just all excited about the . . ." Bonnie looked around, her grin carrying an air of mystery, " . . . *excursion* we're planning. Dadadadada." "I could use a drink," Jules sighed heavily. "You could!" Bonnie's response was immediate and too darn positive. "That sounds wonderful! It will just be the three of though, 'cause Annie is napping right now. Yep, the three caballeros, the three amigos," she popped in between Patt and Jules, linking their arms in a chain, "the tri..." "Sickle." Patt completed, then looked pointedly at Bons. "As in sharp curved metal blade to cut down grass." Jules shuddered at the reference, but if Patt noticed, she didn't acknowledge it. "Like the one used by Uncle to render little Divia unconscious for two thousand years." "Huhhhhh?" Bonnie did not seem to get the implied threat. Patt and Jules looked at each other, shrugged and started walking toward the door. Bonnie followed, grinning. When they reached the entrance to CERK, Patt stopped. She turned to Jules, gave Bonnie a quick glance, then looked back to the other woman. "I really don't feel like going back in there right now," she said. "There's safety in numbers, though, and we are at war," Jules reminded her. "Yea, but those numbers can get a little claustrophobic at times," Patt said. "I live alone, except during one of Mom's extended visits, and I'm used to having some quiet time. I appreciate the fraternity of the other Cousins, but I really could use some peace for awhile." Jules nodded in understanding. "I know where we can go!" Bons interjected. "Dwabbs." Jules cocked an eyebrow. "Are you talking about that waterfront dive you read about in the "Sailor's Guide to Toronto?" Bonnie nodded happily. "They have 'Happy Hour' from five to seven," she went on, the excitement building in her voice. "And, if I'm correct, it is still five. Who's up for two for one?" Jules looked at Patt questioningly. The older woman shrugged and replied, "Why not?" With only a small amount of trepidation, Jules acquiesced. "Okay," she said. "We'll check out Dwabbs, but I'm going to tell the reception crew where we've gone, just in case someone wants to find us. Wait here and . . ." she looked at Bonnie sternly, "don't get into any mischief." "And," she turned around again, assuming her *LaCroix* stance. "We are not taking any of the LaCroixs with us." Bonnie's face fell. ****************** A short time later, the three women were heading for the CERK parking lot. Jules paused in front of LaCroix's Jaguar and eyed it sadly, knowing she'd probably never have the privilege of driving it again. Bonnie was walking ahead with Patt, who had reached the side of her maroon Chevrolet full-size pickup parked near the back of the lot. Patt put her hand on the vehicle's hood and felt for warmth. Then she looked at Bonnie questioning, "Where did you take her, anyway?" "Can't say," Bons smirked, enjoying her air of mystery surrounding the hiding place of the guitar. "But, it wasn't as far as you had gas for us to go. Didn't even need to top off the tank. Jules had caught up with them and looked at the truck. "I was hoping that you had an extend cab." Patt looked at her, eyes sympathetic. "No," Patt shook her head sadly, then grinned. "But I do have a camper shell with a sliding glass window. Think we could get away with stuffing Bonnie in the back?" "HEY!" Bons protested, and the other women began to giggle. ***************** Of course, Bonnie ended up in the front seat with Patt and Jules. In fact, she chose to sit in the middle, leaning toward the dash and watching the lights of night time Toronto speed by. As this was basically a straight shot down Yonge to the wharf area, Patt wasn't too nervous about assuming the driving duties. She usually avoided driving at night, especially in areas she was unfamiliar with. Patt adjusted her no-line bi-focals and complained inwardly about the ravages of age. But soon, her spirits lifted. Bons' central location put the little redhead in charge of the radio and she soon had the truck's stereo system blaring out a local pop music sound. It took a moment for Patt's ears to adjust to the 'onslaught,' but once they did, she found she enjoyed it. "So this is ABBA, with a backwards 'B'?" Patt shouted over the roar of the music and the traffic. They'd decided to roll the windows down and let the cool cross-air blow in. Bons' and Jules' red hair cascaded in the wind like flickering flame. Patt's short perm began to frizz, but she didn't care. The night felt good. Dwabb's was exactly as it sounded. Dwabb. The outside appeared to be a tin Quonset hut, of sorts, decorated with flotation devices and netting. Inside, it was much the same. The floor and tables were wooden, the walls a collection of salvage. The bar, though, was immaculately clean and the atmosphere cheerful. Bonnie bounded in with customary grace, followed more slowly by Jules with Patt bringing up the rear. They found a small table, tucked to the side, empty except for the leavings of the former occupants. Patt and Bonnie removed the used glassware to another table while Jules wiped the surface of their chosen site with a handful of napkins. Seated, Bonnie looked around happily. "See!" she perked. "What did I tell you? Isn't this grand?!" A quick survey of the bar yielded the following facts: one tired-looking, overweight bartender with an obligatory cigarette hanging from his mouth; approximately a dozen patrons of assorted sizes, shapes, sexes, etc.; two pinball machines, a billiards table, a dart board on the wall and a jukebox. "Order me a Tom Collins," Bonnie instructed the others, then bounced over to the music machine. Patt and Jules sat back, saying nothing. They smiled at each other in simple mutual appreciation of this moment of peace. The proprietor spotted them, seemed to mutter something to himself, wiped his hands on his apron and came over to the table. "Wa-dul-oo-'av?" he mumbled around the cigarette. Patt watched as a splay of ash drifted down to the table's surface. "A Tom Collins and a Sherry," Jules ordered. "I'll have a beer," Patt added. Jules looked at her quizzically, but said nothing. After the man had moved away, Jules leaned forward. "Are you sure you want a beer?" "Yes," Patt replied, letting her eyes close to a slit. "After the night I've had, that's what I want. You see, I can drink all the hard liquor in the world and just get quieter and mellower. Beers, on the other hand, get me drunk and give me the giggles. I usually avoid them, 'cause they can cause me to get a little crazier than my normal crazy self. I think it's the bubbles." Patt reached into her pocket and pulled out the truck keys. She pushed them across the table to Jules with a grin. "I'm among friends tonight, so hopefully they won't mind if a giggle a little. I could use it." Jules smiled, then frowned again, "I don't think you understand what I mean . . ." Before Patt could probe, Bonnie slipped back into her seat with a disconcerted look on her face. "No ABBA," she huffed, then pronounced the place a "dive." The bartender returned, holding the three drinks in a triangle with his bare hands. He plopped them down on the table and walked away. Patt reached for the beer bottle, touched the glass and got an odd expression on her face. She hefted the container and touched the liquid to her lips. The Louisianan wrinkled her nose and put it down. "It's *warm*," she exclaimed in disgust. "It's British," Jules explained. "It's the way beer is served here." "Totally uncivilized," Bonnie lifted her nose and mimicked proper British pronunciation as taught her by PBS. "Tastes like pi . . ." Patt began to complain, when she saw Jules' expression and stopped. "What is it?" Jules' eyes never left the bar's front entrance. "Knighties." ************************* End of part 1/3 pattelmore@juno.com ************************* WAR: Home Brew-ha-ha Part 2/3 After: Part 1 By Patt Elmore Additional fight scenes written by Bonnie Rutledge Beta by Bons and Jules, Lmt. --they work for "virtually" nothing ************************* Patt and Bonnie turned around slowly in their chairs, their gazes following the direction that Jules was looking. Coming in the door were three women. "That's Katrinka, one of the Knightie Co-Leaders, and her bodyguard, Lori," Jules told the others. Patt recognized the two women from their earlier reconnaissance to Knightie Central, "I don't recognize the other one," Jules said, squinting. "She must be new to the organization. Looks like a kid." The three women did not appear to notice the Cousins hidden in the shadows. They chose a table several feet away and sat down. "What do you think we should do?" Bons leaned across the table and asked the others. "Get a *cold* beer," Patt replied. She looked toward the bartender, caught his eye and motioned him back to the table. Grudgingly, he complied. "Wha?" he grunted. "I'd like a cold beer, please," Patt smiled as sweetly as she could, handing him the warm beverage she'd been served. He eyed her with distaste, but took the offending brew. He turned to move away and Patt called to him. "Make it a Texas longneck, if you will." "And don't forget that it's Happy Hour," Bonnie called cheerfully, waving her empty Collins glass. "Two for one!" The bartender moved away, muttering something in Screedeese, taking him right past the table occupied by the three Knighties. As he passed, Patt's eyes fell on the group sitting there and locked with Katrinka's. The hairs on Patt's neck immediately rose in anger. The sudden din of loud music rocked the little establishment. All three women looked in the direction of the jukebox, where a medium sized man with rolled up T-shirt sleeves stood perusing the selection list and punching keys. Finished, he turned to survey the room and caught sight of the Cousins. Before they could turn away, he noticed them looking at him. He sauntered over in their direction, smoothing back his thick black hair as he came. Reaching the table, he placed his hands on the edge and began looking the women over. He finally settled on Bonnie. "Dance?" Bonnie lifted her left hand and wiggled her ring finger. "Sorry," she replied sweetly. His eyes drifted to Jules, but she just shook her head. Finally, they rested on Patt. Patt looked him up and down, decided he would clean up okay, but opted to forego the temptation for the present. There was a war going on, after all. "Maybe another time, hon," she said. "Why don't you leave your card, and I'll get back to you." The sailor-type moved away, heading in the direction from whence he'd come. He spotted the Knightie table and strolled that way. Patt, now sipping a properly chilled beer, watched in interest as he leaned in to proposition the three other women. Jules watched Patt, noting the Louisianan's mood was growing darker and darker. "What's the matter?" she finally asked. "I thought that stuff was supposed to give you the giggles, not the glums." Patt took a good swallow of her drink then turned her eyes to Jules. "I'm just ticked off," Patt replied, returning her eyes to Katrinka's direction. "It just really pulls my weeds to think that I've been sharing Nunkies with a . . . traitor!" "Shhhhhhhh! Jules scolded Patt softly. We're *anonymous* remember. The whole world doesn't need to be aware of our addiction." Jules looked around, then continued. "Besides, we knew Katrinka was a declared Knightie when she joined our group as a support member. She's never claimed to be addicted to Nunkies and serves an important spot in Nunkies-Anon." The ex-Texan spoke softly, trying to reason with her friend. "Don't worry, one of these days she'll figure out the error of her ways and come around." "But in the meantime, she's a full-fledged, died in the angst, Knightie." Patt fumed. The man, having struck out at the Knightie table also, walked toward the bar and made the acquaintance of a woman who'd just made her way into the establishment. After a quick conversation, they retreated to a shadowy table near, but not too near, the Cousins. Meanwhile, the Knighties were having a discussion of their own. Katrinka was sipping her drink while she watched the drama across the room. It made her uneasy to have the three Cousins so close, especially members of Nunkies Anonymous. Although she was not an addict, and had joined the organization to help those that were, her own faction might not view her affiliation with the NA kindly. She would have liked to leave, but Dwabbs was the closest drinking establishment to Nick's Loft and she needed this chance to talk with Kil. Lori, of course, was along for protection, as she was Katrinka's assigned bodyguard. Kil was talking about the horn again. She was telling them about how many of the Knightie pets had been disappearing into thin air each time the trumpet sounded. Kil's own little dog, Teek, was among the missing. Lori, noticing Katrinka's inattention to Kil's words, looked at her questioningly. "You know those Cousins, Katrinka?" Katrinka nodded. Their names are Jules, Bonnie and Patt." Noting that Lori raised an eyebrow at Katrinka having known the names so effortlessly, the Knightie Co-Leader hurried to explain that she'd just finished reading the Cousin biography fact sheet in preparation for war activities. "Patt," Kil said, repeating the name of the Cousin. "That name sounds very familiar. I wonder where I've heard it before." A sudden rush of movement caught the Knighties 'attention. "Bloody 'ell," the man at the back table jumped up, knocking several chairs over in his wake. His face was livid with anger. "What's going on?" Bonnie asked, watching the commotion. "Seems they've discovered a gender gap," Jules said dryly. "The lady appears to be a guy." Indeed, upon closer inspection the sailor's companion turned out to be a cross-dresser. Rising, she/he touched the sailor's arm, trying to get him to sit back down and discuss things reasonably. He pushed her/his arm away, then, for good measure, lifted the table and shoved it against her/his chest. She/he screamed in anger and came across the table, reaching for him. He staggered back, falling into the table where another couple had just taken residence. The burly man at that table rose and attached two meaty hands to the sailor's shoulders. With a mighty flinging motion, the sailor went airborne and landed in the middle of the billiards table. "My game!" A rather unsavory looking bald gentleman clicked his cue to the ground and looked aghast at the rolling balls which had once been a perfect shot. The top of his head reddened in anger as he looked at the sailor. "You just cost me 1,000 loonies, mate!" he bellowed. "Now I remember," Kil said, snapping her fingers. Then her expression reflected outrage. "That's the Cousin that threw mustard at Amethyst." All three Knighties turned to take another look at Cousin Patt. Patt, you see, was the Cousin who threw hot mustard into Knightie Amethyst's food. Mustard in any form, has an affect on Amethyst and Patt well knew it. Even thinking about the yellow condiment made Amethyst deathly ill, and having it within proximity of her was like dousing her with poison. "She also made threats toward Amethyst's dogs," Kil said angrily. "Ohhhhhhhhh," Katrinka and Lori nodded their heads, understanding Kil's outrage. Meanwhile, the sailor fellow had left his residence on the pool table and been bodily introduced to a young woman playing darts. As he impacted with her, she gave a mighty grunt and turned to face him. She thrust the dart in his direction, but, seeing her intentions, he moved to the side just in time. The small projectile whizzed past his head and embedded itself in the upper arm of the original burly gentleman. "Bloody 'ell!" the man cried, pulling the offending stinger from his flesh. He looked at the woman, sized her up as 'not such a lady' and flung the dart back in her direction. She ducked and the dart struck the bottom of the she/he. "Oooohhhh, honey!" she/he cried. Pandemonium had broken out in the bar. Only the two tables containing the Cousins and the Knighties appeared immune to the fray. The bartender watched it all with interest, but made no move to stop it. "Looks like this might be the regular Friday Night bill-o-fare," Jules commented, as a pool cue swooshed past her ear, crunching into a skull not four feet away. Patt ducked as a flying spittoon went past, crashing against the far wall with a dull clang. Bonnie was transfixed. Under her breath, so low that only vampire hearing would have been able to make it out, she was saying, "Bar fight. . . he, he, he . . . bar fight." Patt and Jules noticed too late. Bons suddenly jumped up, leapt to the table surface and launched herself into the air. The other Cousins both simultaneously grabbed for a foot, but came back with only non-sensible footwear for their trouble. Bonnie had attached herself to the back of the burly man, her arms ensnaring his neck. "We really need to get the girl some lace-ups," Jules shook her head as Bonnie and the man began to spin. Patt looked at the shoe in her hand, tossed it over her shoulder and returned her gaze to the fight. "I think we should leave," Katrinka made a move to get up from the table, encouraging the other Knighties to do the same. Lori rose, but Kil was still eyeing Patt. Katrinka noticed the younger Knightie's hesitation and said, "Kil?" "It's not right," Kil said, as much to herself as Katrinka. "It's not right that she should be able to just sit there after hurting Amethyst like that." Before anyone could stop her, Kil had pulled Teek's spare leash out of her pocket. Holding it like a doubled whip, she started to run toward the Cousins' table. Katrinka headed after her, but Lori stopped the Co-Leader and indicated that she would handle the situation. As Lori made her way across the seating area, though, a billiard ball flew across the room and struck her knee. The pain staggered Lori, and she fell forward, arms splayed outward in an attempt to catch her fall. As Lori fell into the Cousins, one of her flailing hands struck Patt across the face. Instinctively, Patt grabbed her beer bottle, grasping the long neck like a weapon. "Back off, Knight-breath! I know how to use this," Patt gestured with the object. "Easy, Patt," Jules reached out to quiet Patt, but Patt shrugged her off. She sighted Kil from her peripheral vision and stood up to meet the girl's attack. Kil was holding something. Something fairly large and round. It looked like a . . . Patt staggered back as Kil threw the dart board like a Frisbee, striking the older woman in the chest. Still clutching the beer bottle, Patt began swinging it blindly, catching the sailor across the jaw. The sailor shook his head, saw it was Patt and grinned broadly. Patt, not noting who he was at all, broadsided him again with the container. He went to his knees. Bons was having a good bit o' fun. She'd never envisioned that this trip to TO would involve a bar fight, and she was having the time of her life. She liked bar fights. At home in North Carolina, though, she usually referred to them as 'dinner with the redneck relatives'. The current ruckus was almost the same as a home-state rumble, only there was no Winston Cup memorabilia. "Bar fight . . . he,he,he . . .Bar fight!" Bonnie climbed to a stand atop one of the tables again. She scanned the rowdy bar for a new victim. "Next?" she quipped, then spotted a rough-looking fellow barrelling forward, intent on double-teaming one of the Knighties. She let out a whoop and leapt at his back, screaming, "I'm Tarheel born, I'm Tarheel bred, and when I die, I'll be - WOOHOO!!! Bar Fight!!" Meanwhile, the he/she had noticed the sailor sink to the floor. "Hey!" He/she shouted in a shrill voice. "Don't be 'urtin my 'oney!" She/he ran toward Patt, but tripped over Jules' outstretched leg where the Cousin had been attempting to rise. She/he fell, pulling Jules with her/him to the floor. Rolling across the stained, stinking surface, Jules found herself gagging and fighting to rise, fighting being the operative word. Her struggles were met with kick attempts and grabbing hands, causing her to decide to stay low for the time being. She finally managed to rise to a crawl and was leaving the heavier part of the row when she encountered a mass of black material. "I wonder who put a tent in here," she wondered idly. As her gaze progressed upward, though, Jules found herself looking into the stern countenance of the person wearing the skirt. Her heart sank slightly. "Hello, Cousine Celeste," Jules said weakly. "What brings you here?" ******************************** End part 2/3 pattelmore@juno.com ******************************** WAR: Home Brew-ha-ha Part 3/3 After: Part 2 By Patt Elmore More fight scene contributed by Bonnie Rutledge. Special thanks to Cousin Leader Cousine Celeste for betaing, suggesting, contributing, ordering, threatening, etc. Beta by Bons and Jules, Lmt.--Hey, the best work for less! ******************************** Cousine Celeste, her hands on her hips, looked down at LaCroix's personal assistant in dismay. "Jules," she hissed. "Get up and stop kissing the bar room floor! It's, like, totally undignified!" She caught sight of Patt and Bons, then she looked back at Jules, her hazel eyes flashing. "For cryin' out loud. Don't you wanna set a better example for the little newbie Cousins?" Jules stood up and began dusting herself off, just as a chair flew by their heads. She ducked instinctively, and noted a noxious smell. To her horror, she discovered it to be coming from her clothes. Looking down, Jules took note of a rather large, brown stain which had appeared on her white ribbed sweater. She quickly identified the offending spot as tobacco juice mixed with spital. Jules felt her stomach lurch. Celeste caught her going down. An elegant figure walked up to Celeste. It was a LaCroix, the LaCroix which had been dubbed the Curiouser and Curiouser LaCroix, or the Dream LaCroix, for short. "Oh . . . uh; hi, it's you!" Celeste said, catching sight of him. "I thought you were gonna wait in the cab while I looked for them; heh, heh, heh?" The Cousine tried to put a good face on it in front of her LaCroix as she struggled with the limp Cousin Jules, who seemed destined for an intimate re-introduction with the floor. "Have some wine," the Dream LaCroix said in an encouraging tone. "Now don't you go starting *that* again!" said Celeste, easing Jules to the floor. " . . . this *isn't* The Mad Tea Party! Next, you'll be trying to help me stuff this one into a teapot or something! I promise, we'll have a proper English tea, with every teacup in the Rec Suite, as soon as I get this lot out of here!" From the floor, Jules's caught her breath and turned green as the bar aromas assaulted her again. She turned to avoid expressing her nausea on the Cousin Leader's shoe and caught sight of a man with a wad of chewing tobacco in his mouth. Drawing her knees up, Jules carefully crawled across the floor, avoiding the various motions of the battle engaged patrons. She reached the feet of the man she'd spotted and, through sheer force of will, raised herself up and faced him. At least, she faced his cotton undershirt which he wore as an outer. Jules stretched herself to her full height and looked at the man's Adam's apple. She looked up and watched his jaws working in a chewing motion. Jules remembered little after that, but in reports supplied to the police later, it was stated that a small, red haired woman armed herself with a broken table leg and rendered a local member of the longshoreman's union permanently disabled. Cousine Celeste was unsure which way to turn, as the Cousins and Knighties appeared to have representatives in all directions of vision. Not to mention her own Dream LaCroix. The refined rascal had moved himself from the altercation and had assumed a seated position on the bar surface. He sat now, cross-legged, sipping from a teacup he had somehow managed to obtain, while the Cousin leader considered her options regarding the situation. On the other side of the room, Kil was still demonstrating her frisbee expertise with the dart board. Lori was engaged in combat with a rather indignant looking gentleman who was demanding that she 'cough up' some quarters to replace those he'd lost in the pin ball machine when her bumping had caused him to tilt. Katrinka opened her purse, ready to pay the man, when someone knocked it out of her hands, sending the contents flying. As she reached down to retrieve it, another someone kicked it away. She managed to put her hand around the large office tape dispenser that she'd "borrowed" from her office and, using it as a weight, brought it down on the man's foot. Patt ran by, chased by the Cross Dresser. Across the room, the tiny Cousin Bonnie was atop a table again, sighting her next quary. She held an armful of pretzel bowls, which she threw at anyone who aimed her way, looking for trouble. Jules, head clearing and table leg in hand, looked around the room, trying to access the situation. She caught sight of the Cousine, who was watching the mayhem with a look of determination. Jules decided that, if she wanted to regain any standing in the Cousinhood, she'd best do something to impress the Cousin leader. She turned around and tripped over Lori, who was attempting to retrieve one of Katrinka's rolling lipstick tubes. Lori shrieked and slashed out, gouging long fingernails into Jules' leg flesh. "Hey!" Jules screeched, "play fair!" She hefted the club and brought in down on the back of the Knightie's neck. Lori went flat, but quickly recovered and rolled across the floor. Lori sighted another segment of the table that had provided Jules her weapon, and grabbed an extremely oversized splinter for herself. She had just regained her feet when the Cousin came at her. Lori assumed a fencing stance. "En garde!" she cried defiantly. "I'm a guardin'! Just try something!" Jules retorted. Lori lunged forward and tried to slip under the Cousin's defenses. Jules parried, meeting Lori's blade. . . uh, stick . . .thrust for thrust, then made a riposte. The Knightie blocked her move effortlessly, regrouped, and attacked once more. They dueled for several minutes, poking at each other from under, over and around tables, and exchanging the wittiest of repartee, such as, "Am not!" "Are, too!" Celeste was moving to intercede in the 'sword' fight, when her attention was diverted by a more pressing problem. As the Cousine watched in a mixture of horror and wonder, Bons shed herself of the remainder of the pretzel bowls and caught hold of the overhead hanging light fixture. Emitting a fiendish howl, Bonnie lurched and swung, her legs outstretched, and struck at one of the mob with her feet. "This is a little like herding cats," the Cousin gasped. She had had plenty of experience herding cats, but this was beyond even her abilities. Still, being a proud member of the Cerberus, she had to make an effort. As she moved to help Bonnie down from her precarious position, the flung dart board glanced off Celeste's brow, causing the Cousine to spin so that she again faced the bar. In that moment, next to the Dream LaCroix, a smile appeared in the air, hanging alone, teasing her. The smile was quickly joined by a stripey tail, and then the entire body of Celeste's feline friend. The Cousine immediately recognized that tiny, furry face. "Gozer!" she cried. "Am I hallucinating?" The Cousine gingerly touched her forehead for the skull fracture that had undoubtedly caused this vision. An odd brass sounding menage of French trumpet, oboe and Toyota horn blared. Kil, having heard a similar sound before, looked up with a start. A glimmering light was taking form next to the Everett-Cat on the bar. In a matter of seconds, it had materialized in the shape of a canine. "Teek?!" Kil cried out hopefully. She was never able to confirm the dog's identity as a large woman with very big hair rose up in front of her, blocking Kil's line of vision. The dog-shape growled, the cat hissed and the fur flew. Celeste and Kil simultaneously dove at the images of their respective companions, narrowly missing the Dream LaCroix, who daintily spun on his rear to avoid their meeting. He watched them over his shoulder as the two women, their forward momentum too great to allow them to stop, cannonballed head first over the top of the bar. Only their waving feet were left to mark their passing. Of course, the animals had long since taken their leave of the situation, vanishing into the air from whence they'd come. A projectile landed on the bar, next to the Dream LaCroix. He picked up the shoe, eyed it carefully, then proceeded to pour the remainder of his drink into it. As a short man of questionable reputation ran by, the Dream LaCroix offered him the shoe-born beverage. Turning at the same time, Patt and Katrinka met on the floor, Patt still holding the beer bottle and Katrinka her tape dispenser. They paused, assessing each other. "Why?" Patt said finally. "How could you betray your sisterhood like that--by being a Knightie!" "I am a *Knightie*!" Katrinka shouted. "I am a Knightie, all Knightie and nothing but Knightie! Always have and always will be. I *LOVE* NICK! I will go to my grave whispering my allegiance to his faction. I am a *FRIEND* of NUNKIES, nothing more! I am loyal to NICK!" "Okay . . ." Patt took this in slowly, then smirked. "Explain those times that we sat and read Nunkies Fantasies together?" Katrinka looked crestfallen. "I . . .I . . . never *wrote* any!" she defended herself. "Yea," Patt retorted, "and I bet you never inhaled, either. And that WereVachon had the nerve to call you 'loyal.'" Katrinka's mouth flew open. She realized the only way that Patt could know about that conversation. "You . . . you were spying on our headquarters. You were spying on *me*!" "Hey," Patt shrugged, "it's war. Wha'cha expect." Across the room, Bons scampered across the bar surface, barely missing tripping over the Dream LaCroix. She did a sort of impromptu cartwheel, which placed her in a position to notice her shoe, which the LaCroix had placed next to him on the bar. In a quick scooping motion, Bonnie grabbed the slipper and hopped on one foot, attempting to return it to its rightful position on her other foot. Her pedal digits encountered the moisture in the shoe toe and Bonnie yelped. She quickly extracted her foot and proceeded to pour the offensive liquid onto the floor. Or, rather, into the face of a patron who was lying on the floor. Simultaneously, Jules and Lori noticed the wavering appendages of their respective factions members, visible just above the horizon of the bar surface. They both rushed to the rescue. Meanwhile, Katrinka was livid. "I expect you to have some . . . honor!" Katrinka cried, still addressing Patt. Then she paused, her anger replaced by a killer's thirst. Her next words were slow and measured. "But then you are a Cousin." She smiled rather triumphantly as she added the next words. ". . . and only a Third Cousin at that! No wonder they think of you as the *poor* relation." Patt's face took on a purple hue. Before she realized exactly what she had planned, she brought the bottle upwards. Katrinka raised the tape dispenser, shaking the office tool threateningly. The two women stood there for a moment, considering. Suddenly, something clicked inside their warring brains. Something which made them realize why they had bonded at NA all those months ago. They remembered their mutual love of Forever Knight. The eyes of both women softened as they gazed at each other. They began to lower their weapons. From her vantage point behind Katrinka, Bonnie did not see the change in their expressions, their stance. Still muttering "Bar fight . . . he, he, he. . . bar fight," under her breath, Bonnie looked down on the floor and caught sight of the spittoon. She picked up the urn and rushed the women. With a mighty cry of victory, Bons brought the spittoon down on Katrinka's cerebral cortex with a mighty klang. With a low moan, Katrinka fell to the floor. Realizing what she'd done to a friend, Bonnie came out of her trance-like state. "Oh, my!" she said quietly. Then she looked up at Patt. "Did I do that?!!" "Yes," Patt nodded. She started to kneel at Katrinka's side, when her more Cousinly nature superceded. She couldn't help it, after all, she was born wicked . . . or just a product of her environment. She quickly stooped to grab Katrinka's shoulders. "Here," she addressed a gaping Bonnie, "help me with her." Bons complied, lifting Katrinka's other end. From the bar, where she had hold of Cousine Celeste's ankles, Jules noted their activity. She looked across the bar surface at the struggling Cousin leader, who was thrashing around, her face hidden amongst her skirt. The Dream LaCroix continued to watch, sip his cup and smile. She returned her attention to Patt and Bons, who had gathered up Katrinka's unmoving form and were carrying it towards the exit. "JULES," Cousine Celeste had managed to free her face from the material and catch sight of who held her feet. "Let go of my legs," she shouted, kicking at LaCroix's personal assistant with surprising forcefulness. Jules complied at once, and Celeste toppled into a heap. Celeste righted herself. She stood up and began brushing her dignity back into place. Jules reached over to help Celeste, but removed her hands gingerly when the Cousine warned her off with *the* look. Lori had managed to pull the smaller Kil back across the bar and had stood the child upright. Both of them, especially Lori, immediately began surveying the room for sign of Katrinka. Celeste followed Jules' gaze to the now closed exit door and understood the situation. "You'd best go after them," Celeste advised, as much to rid herself of the little darlings as anything. "I don't know what they have planned, but I'm sure it will fall under the General Go-and-Commit-Mayhem rule." Celeste sighed, "They're still so green and they'll need guidance, even if just from you." She narrowed her eyes and looked pointedly at Jules. "Just don't disappoint me." Jules gulped and started toward the door, then had a thought, and looked back to the Cousine. "Do you need a lift?" she asked helpfully. Celeste shook her head. "I have my own transportation, thank you." She leveled her gaze at Jules. "Now, *GO*." Jules dallied no further, but darted for the door. Lori and Kil noticed her movement and shot off in pursuit. Cousine Celeste took one last look around the demolished bar and sighed again. An almost forgotten memory of her own youth in the wilds of Brooklyn emerged and she smiled slightly. Dream LaCroix was suddenly at her side, offering her a cup. "Shall we?" he tilted his head and smiled hopefully. Celeste sighed again. Catching his arm, she ushered her LaCroix toward the rear exit where the cab awaited their return. Out in the parking lot, Jules caught up with her cohorts just as Patt finished pulling the camper shell door down. "What are you doing," Jules hissed, grabbing Patt's arm and standing on tiptoe to peek inside the camper shell. Katrinka lay stretched out on floor of the truck bed. Bons, sitting beside the semi-conscious Knightie, waved. "Saving her," Patt replied decisively, moving toward the cab of the truck. "We're going to take our sister Katrinka to the Nunkies Shrine and see if we can deprogram her Knightieness." Before Jules could protest, she saw Lori and Kil burst from the bar door. They didn't look to be in a mood to reason, so Jules chose prudence. Jules felt for the truck keys in her pocket, assured herself they were there, then dashed to the driver's side door while Patt headed for the passenger's. As Jules cranked the engine, she glanced across the lot to see Cousine Celeste and the Dream LaCroix climb into a large black Toronto taxicab. Assured that the Cousin Co-Leader's cab had plenty of time to evade the oncoming Knighties, Jules applied her foot to the gas and sent the pickup roaring out of the parking area. Just before Celeste's vehicle exited also, a smile appeared above the roof of the cab, chuckled, then disappeared. *********************************************************************** end part 3/3 pattelmore@juno.com War: After the Kataclysm (1/1) By Bonnie Rutledge, Third Cousin Patt, and Knightie Co-Leader Katrinka Folks abused with permission WereVachon provided by Katrinka Time: After 'Home Brew-ha-ha' and 'MacNunkies' ************************************************************************** "You know," Jules mentioned as she sped silently toward The Jeweled Peach, "we might have gone too far this time by kidnapping a Knightie Co- Leader." "Not far enough," Patt corrected. "First we need to deprogram that pesky Knightie-ness from her." Jules groaned. "Patt! Kat was a member of Angsters Anonymous before she ever joined Nunkies Anonymous! You won't be deprogramming - you'll be overriding!" "Yeah, yeah, yeah," Patt waved her away, her thoughts already consumed with Cousinly thoughts of Chinese Ribena Torture. ************************************************************* Bonnie wasn't angsting. She was considering the welfare of someone she respected to the point that it resembled self-castigation, remorse, and despair, but she wasn't angsting. she fretted. Bonnie frowned to see that Katrinka hadn't moved or made a sound since they dumped her in the back of Patt's truck. She gingerly felt Kat's head and came across the beginnings of a nasty bump. She curled her knees up into her chest and noticed that she'd ruined yet another pair of non-sensible shoes. *Sigh* Bonnie thought ruefully. Suddenly, her eyebrows raised at a positive thought. "Wake up, Kat!" she said worriedly. "Please be alright! If you are, I promise...I promise..." Bons racked her brain trying to think of something the Knightie would like. "I promise I'll wear a T-shirt that says 'Nick is Not a Brick' in public." Bons squinted in horror at the thought. Katrinka groaned. "Ohmigosh! It worked!" Bonnie squealed happily. Then her face fell. "Ohmigosh. I might actually have to *do* it." ************************************************************************** Jules, Patt, and Bonnie carried Kat as gently as possible to the warehouse door, triggered the lock with an Official Nunkies Drool Cup, and slipped her inside. "Hmm," Jules said, noting the lack of Not-So-Vestal-Virgins guarding the entrance. "I wonder where the others are." They lugged the body into the Shrine and saw there was a party going on, complete with Monsieur Cabon doing a sprightly jig to the Tanahill Weavers music playing in the background. Jules, Bonnie, and Patt were very surprised. They dropped Kat's body. "Uuuuuhhhhh..." the Knightie groaned. Jules screamed. "What is *he* doing in here? I thought I said NO NON- MEMBERS IN THE SHRINE!!! Aaaaah!!" Monsieur Cabon's jolly mood instantly deflated. He collapsed, sobbing at Kim's side. She pushed him away to one of the red silk loungers before he got tear stains on her toga, then she handed him an Official Nunkies Black Silk Hankie. "We're celebrating Heather's birthday," Jan explained. "And the perpetration of a successful whammy on the Nick & Natpackers, too!" "I don't *do* birthdays," Jules reminded her. "This 'whammy' didn't involve any of you leaving the Shrine premises, by any chance?" "Well, yeah!" Kim said. "We used the hot-air balloons and the 'copter. Monsieur Cabon played a big part, so we let him come to the celebration!" "But you aren't supposed to leave the Shrine - it's in the charter," Jules fumed. "Who told you could do that?" "I did," a female voice answered. Jules whipped her head around to glare at the doorway leading to the private dining room. Her first instinct upon seeing a Natalie standing there was to howl bloody murder. Then she noticed Nat's toga and breastplate. "Oh...my...word...Where's my sherry?" "Susan's getting that and some more whiskey from the Peach's bar. Ours ran out," the N-S-V-V Nat answered with a slightly drunk grin. Meanwhile, Bonnie was observing Kat regain consciousness and testing her for a concussion. "Okay, Kat - tell me how many chocolate Nunkies I'm holding up." Kat put a hand to her aching head and counted. "Thre...Two and a ha... Hey! Are you eating one?!?" Bonnie bounced up and down. "Oh, Kat! You're alright! I'm so happy!" "My head hurts," the Knightie whimpered. "I feel like someone shot me in the head." Katrinka looked up at the Shrine from the mosaic floor, her eyes brimming with tears. "Why?" She looked from face to face, seeking answers. "What did I do?" "You defected to Nick," Patt said flatly. "We're just here to help you realize the errors of your ways and bring you back into the arms of Nunkies." "Just consider it...tough love," Bons added. "But that's not true!" Katrinka said, shaking her head in protest. "I never professed my loyalty to Nunkies. I never pledged undying adoration. I've never even written a Nunkies fantasy - only peeked at a few. I'm just a friend to Nunkies Anonymous - I've *always* been loyal to Nick!!" Heather waved her hands in the air. "I don't know if it's the whiskey or what, but I feel like I hear Libby talking!" "Denial!....Denial!" Jan and Kim chanted under their breaths. Susan suddenly ran into the room, a bottle of sherry and Scotch in either hand. "We've got trouble! We've got a visitor...visitors...uh... Something's here!" Before she could explain further, a Nick brushed past her. Sighting Katrinka huddled on the floor, the creature turned eyes filled with anger on the women surrounding his chosen one. "What have you done to her?!" he demanded. "It was an accident!" Bonnie said. "Bar fight enthusiasm, I swear!" "I'm fine," Kat said feebly. "Really." N-S-V-V Nat wasn't fine, though. "Get that...that...*Nick*...out of my Nunkies' Shrine!!!" "But it's not a Nick," Susan protested. "Not exactly. When he first stormed into the restaurant, he was a Vachon. He...transformed." "He's a WereVachon," Jules explained. "He becomes Vachon in the light of the full moon." "Ooooh," the Not-So's said in unison. "I still want him out!" Nat muttered. "Now, now, NOW!" "I'll be taking my Kat back to the loft immediately," he promised. Sidney the Sheepdog, who had been munching on doggie kibble in the kitchen, came running at the sound of Nick's voice. Seeing Nick's face, the dog stilled momentarily in a pose of happy alertness, then bounded forward. The sheepdog flung his full weight at the WereVachon, intent on sharing as many slobbery kisses as possible. The force of the flying projectile dog knocked him off his feet, and the canine and werevamp fell down, landing right on Katrinka's sore head. He leapt up, pushing the silly dog out of the way and examined his chosen one. She was out cold. "What have I done?" he wondered aloud. "You knocked her unconscious!" Bonnie exclaimed with delight. "You did it! You and the sheepdog." She began to do a happy dance. "It's not my fa-ult! It's not my fa-ult!" she taunted. The Nick growled as he swept Katrinka's limp form into his arms, then stomped back to the restaurant. "Good. He's leaving," Nat said pettishly. A virtual lightbulb went off over Bons' head. "Ooo! Look at the pretty lightbulb! I just had an idea - wait here," she said, then chased after the vampire carrying Kat. He saw her following him as he pushed through the front doors with his back. "Get lost." Bonnie grinned as she saw the moonlight hit his hair. "Sure, Nick! I'll stay away from *you*." She was being completely honest, for by the time her sentence was complete, the vampire carrying Katrinka was now Vachon. "A WereVachon!" she exclaimed. "That is so kewl!" Vachon shrugged and moved to leave. "Wait! Wait. Before you go, Vachon," Bons said impishly, "let me ask you a question." Vachon looked away momentarily, then back to the redhead, and sighed. "Okay, shoot." "You wouldn't be wanting to meet up with your Vaqueros, now would you?" Bons fluttered her eyelashes innocently. "'Cause the old church just happens to be my next destination. Wanna come?" Vachon shuttered his eyes thoughtfully and gave a small frown. "I do, but I have to take care of Kat, first." "So take care of her, then come back here. Kat won't mind." "Alright. I'll meet you back here." He gave Bonnie a stern look. "But no funny business." She grinned widely. "What? Don't I look serious already? I'll be waiting..." Then Bonnie skipped back inside. She walked up to the reservation desk and picked up the restaurant phone with an evil smile. "Hey, Cherri?...can you still use a spare Vachon for the little 'trip' you have planned?...Good...Because I convinced one to meet me here and come along...Hook, line, and slacker." *************************************************************************** Vachon carried the unconscious Katrinka in his arms, wondering what he should do with her. After all, he had promised Bonnie that he would be right back. It wasn't his fault that Kat had a concussion, anyway - it was more like Nick's. He spotted a very familiar, silver, late-seventies model car driving down the street. It didn't matter to him that it looked brand-new. This rift in time had done stranger things before. Vachon settled down in the street, fifty feet in front of the moving car. The driver stuck a reddish-gold, curly-haired head out the window. In an almost-cockney accent, he yelled, "Vachon! How many times have I told you not to do that?" A smile crossed his lips. "Sorry, Ray..." "Who's the girl?" the man's partner asked. This one had short, dark hair. "She's a friend of mine." "A vamp?" "No, not a vampire." Vachon looked his friends over. "Can you do me a favor?" The driver looked him over in return, his cat-green eyes wary. "What do you want us to do?" "All I need you to do is to take her to Nick's loft." "You mean make sure she's safe..." the partner said. "Exactly," Vachon agreed. The curly-haired one looked at his partner. "I suppose it wouldn't hurt." The partner got out of the car. He walked over to Vachon and took the woman into his arms. *************************************************************************** Katrinka woke. Her head was resting on someone's shoulders, and she could smell the faint scent of musk. She also had a very big headache. "This is the very last time I do that guy a favor!" she heard someone say. "Come on, this isn't hurting anyone," the man holding her said. His voice sounded very familiar. The car stopped suddenly, and the strong arms that were holding her grew just a bit tighter. The door opened, and she felt herself being carried up the stairs to the loft. The man paused and pressed the door buzzer. Terri's voice came over the intercom. "Who's there?" "I am a friend of Vachon - he asked me to bring Katrinka home," the man said. The door opened, and Katrinka felt herself being carried into the loft. "Who are you?" Terri demanded. "You're not a Cousin, are you?" "No, I'm not a Cousin." "He's British," Lori said. "In a way - now, do I have to stand here holding her all night, or can I put her down?" "Put her on the couch," Terri said. Katrinka felt herself being placed on the couch. She was finally able to look into the eyes of the man who rescued her. She recognized him. "This can't be...you live in London..." "People move." The man smiled at her, his midnight blue eyes dancing. "I have to go. Ray doesn't like waiting." "Thanks for bringing me to the loft," she said. "Anytime." And with that, the stranger left. *************************************************************************** Send comments to: katrinka@flash.net pattelmore@juno.com or br1035@ix.netcom.com "Shave and a Haircut, Two Blinks" by Kristine (Die Hard Co-leader) and Cousin Tser I have permission to do this... Takes place during "He Ain't No Laura Ashley" *************************************************************************** LaCroix paused and stared off into the distance. The air was quiet, the vacuous street abandoned to the night, deserted even by the warring factions. Unusual, he thought. Perhaps it was just the area. He thought, absently, it was too lonely a night. After such a long time without companionship, this self-enforced isolation was wearing him down. Very soon he would return to CERK. He wondered idly what to do next. His hand moved absently to his pocket and he fingered the thin collar and tags. The collar had been exceptionally easy to take. The rift-traveling feline hadn't offered any resistance. He knew vampires would offer a great deal more of a challenge. Humans -- some would and some wouldn't, he knew that. He resumed walking. Ahead, he heard strange sounds. His vampiric hearing was picking up several loud carpentry noises, which were suddenly stopped by a woman's voice yelling at a high volume to someone else, "No redecorating, and that's final!" LaCroix shook his head bemusedly and continued on to the building that housed the FK Props Museum. The Museum was dark, with only a few spotlights lit to illuminate the various displays. He moved quietly through the Museum, pausing only to examine a mock-up of the CERK sound booth. His mouth quirked briefly in remembrance of his nights broadcasting to his wayward son. As he passed the display containing the prop of Divia's brooch, he snarled slightly and continued on to his goal. Suddenly, he felt a presence. No, several presences, and not ones he recognized. It was strange... they were vampire, and very near to a vampire he had met before -- but somehow different, and very animal-like. The sensation he got from them seemed to shimmer in the back of his mind, which he had noticed over his stay in this reality meant they were not of this reality. Ah ha. *************************************************************************** LaCroix continued through the rest of the museum silently, slipping easily in and out of the shadows of the partially darkened building. It was virtually deserted. Other than the "presences" of the vampires, only a single mortal's heart beat could be heard, and in the opposite direction of the object of his desire. With vampiric swiftness, he tracked down his quarry. He was surprised, and fairly shocked, to discover what they were. In a large fish bowl with a wire mesh cover, ten large fish swam around aimlessly. When they noticed LaCroix, they blinked in his direction several times. They had long, brown, curly hair. Beside the dish, a large box of "Piranha Party Flakes" stood open. LaCroix smiled. Another easy strike. First, to find some scissors. There had to be a pair somewhere in the museum. LaCroix quickly found the curator's desk, where a pair was hidden in a drawer. He retrieved the scissors, and headed back to where the Fish were on a pedestal in a remote corner. LaCroix approached the fish bowl, smiling slightly, scissors in hand. Removing the screen top, his hand plunged in, and he held one of the fishes by the tail. It flopped feebly in his hand, its mouth opening and closing as much as its eyes. "Don't worry, it'll grow back, I'm sure," he said, and proceeded to cut the fish's hair off. He let the brown locks fall to the counter. A very surprised fish with a crew cut was replaced in the bowl. He swam around for a seconds, disoriented, the other fish eyeing him warily. They isolated themselves from the shorn fish and blinked threateningly at the alienated creature. LaCroix pocketed the Vachon-like hair and began to turn. Suddenly, as an afterthought, he turned back to the fishes and sprinkled some piranha party flakes into the bowl. The still-long-haired fish eagerly snapped up the food, while the now hairless fish pouted near the bottom. LaCroix left the museum silently. *************************************************************************** fini WAR: The More the Merrier (1/1) by Sharon Lee Frye, Bonnie Rutledge, and Heather Poinsett with Kim Colley, Jan Cook-Moore, Susan Pierce, and Shele Haiku by Shele Time: After 'After the Kataclysm', Directly after 'Keeping Them Collared', Before 'Revenge Is A Dish Best Served With Baklava!" *************************************************************************** After leaving Grandfather's Pizza, Sidney and I walked to my car. Actually, I carried him. I wasn't going to give him the chance to run off again before he answered some questions. "So, what do you think, Sidney?" I asked once we had gotten in the car. "Of those two? The human, Cousin Tser, seemed truthful enough. She may know more than she's telling about Lacroix's theft of my collar, but Gwendolyn did confirm her story." "What? When?? I didn't hear her say anything." "Yes, you did. She quite distinctly said, 'Meow.' Just because you cannot fathom the subtleties of feline communication, that does not mean they don't exist." "Well, excuse me! What did you and Gwen talk about behind Tser's and my backs?" "Oh, this and that. Darling creature, Gwendolyn. I really must make arrangements to see more of her - despite her devotions." "Huh? Oh, you mean because they're Cousins. Cousins aren't all bad, you know." "Don't be silly. I don't care about your little human doings. I cannot understand how a cat could join one of your factions. We are above such things." "You just don't understand. Lacroix is so strong, so powerful, so...so " My eyes began to glaze over... "Stop it! Only felines are worthy of such affection!" "If you won't believe me, then I'll show you how wonderful Nunkies is. We're going to the Jeweled Peach." With that, I threw the car into gear and sped off. *************************************************************************** The Not-So-Vestal-Virgins, with Monsieur Cabon and Sidney the Sheepdog forming the cheering section, had just finished their thumb-wrestling tournament for the last slice of Scottish tiramisu. Heather won, of course. She was a champion thumb-wrestler, but everyone had drunk just enough to forget that detail except Heather. She served up the last slice of dessert with taunting triumph, started shoveling bites into her mouth, then picked up a portable phone. Kim suddenly noticed a visitor walk through the portico leading from the warehouse entrance. It was one of their newer joinees, but the woman was no less of an addict due to the brevity of her membership. In fact, Kim remembered, she had a pretty bad case of 'Nunkiesus-Wantius.' "Sharon!" she greeted, "Who had a klew you were in town?!" "Well, there's is a war going on," Sharon replied, "and that pesky temporal rift - where else would I be?" She looked down at the feline who settled at her feet in a regal pose. "Besides, I wanted to show Sidney just how wonderful Lacroix was, and there isn't a better place to do that than the Shrine to Nunkies. I know we're not supposed to bring outsiders here, but I thought, since this one's a cat, there wouldn't be any problem." Jan smiled, waving her fellow addict's concerns away. "Relax. A cat's a harmless visitor! It's not as though he can talk and spill our secrets!" Sharon smiled feebly. "Err...yeah. Right." Heather paced through the Shrine, the phone glued to her ear. "Uhmmm, well, can you check on the apartment?" she begged. "In fact, I'd really appreciate if you'd dirty up some of the dishes every once in a while... Well, I can't explain now," Heather groused, running a hand through her unruly hair. "We've been so busy here, and I can't leave yet, but I promised the owner I'd be there taking care of the place," she pleaded. Heather listened for a few moments, then her expression became joyful. "Okay, thanks!" Heather noticed Sharon's arrival as she hung up, and she smiled. "Hey girl! Couldn't stay away from us and Nunkies, could you?" "Well, I thought you were leaving the War early to watch over a friend's place," said Sharon. "I can't help that I'm having so much fun here!" Heather exclaimed. "Besides, with the Time Rift, I can get back and it will still be Friday." Sharon shook her head, "I don't think *he'll* look at it that way," she said. Heather sighed. "Well, as long as no one tells him," she said, giving Sharon a pointed look, "it's not a problem. Oh, wow! Another Sidney!" Heather loved kitties, so she leaned down to admire the cat at Sharon's feet and stroke between his ears. The Sidney cat moved away to sniff disapprovingly at the loungers, turned to inspect the Shrine altar, the gave a catly huff at the odor of rosebud incense. Sidney the Sheepdog, who had been napping atop the Fresca-stained lounger that had just been sniffed, raised his head sleepily. His doggie senses had detected that something interesting was taking place nearby. The sheepdog looked down at the gray tabby, and his canine senses went wild. There was a cat! He had to sat 'hello'! Sidney the Sheepdog flopped ungainly to the floor, accidentally putting his full weight on Sidney the cat's tail. Sidney the cat squawked with displeasure, flipping around to smack his claws up side the shaggy mess that made up the sheepdog's face. The sheepdog slobbered on the cat, adding insult to injury. A "Rowf!" and a "Eeow!" later, both animals went racing from the room in a mad chase. "Oh dear," Sharon said. Nat stepped forward, and Sharon's eyes boggled to see the Coroner in an N-S-V-V uniform. "Are you new, too?" she asked wonderingly. Nat grinned. "Not exactly. I'm one of those rift visitors," she explained, "like the sheepdog." Sharon appeared perplexed. "It's a Sidney Sheepdog." "Ohhhhhh." "Hey, Nat!" Jan called. "Tell Sharon everything that's happened to you since you arrived. She'll love it!" Nat looked to their visitor for approval. "Do you really want to hear?" Sharon nodded enthusiastically. "Oh, yes! The more I know, the merrier!" "Alright. It all started went I went to the Thai Burger Palace..." *************************************************************************** Sidney the Cat clawed his way up and onto the kitchen island, cursing as he went. "Get your grimy paws away from me, you spitmeister!" "Rarf!" Sidney the Sheepdog replied as he raised to his hind legs and used the island counter as support. "Alright...you asked for it," Cat Sidney told Dog Sidney as he primed his claws. *whap!-whap!-whap!-whap!-whap!-whap!* Sidney the Sheepdog panted happily in response. Cat Sidney looked at his paws, astounded at their lack of devastation. "Must be all that hair," the cat muttered, then he noticed they were drenched in drool. "Ugh! You fiendish creature! How could you do that?" The sheepdog continued to pant in friendly bliss. The feline huffed. "Why do I get the feeling I'm talking to myself?" Sidney the Cat asked no one in particular. The cat noticed the open pantry door and got an idea. Slipping to the floor, he pranced inside amongst the shelves. Sidney the Sheepdog followed with eager curiosity, walking completely inside as he searched for the cat again. The cat leapt out of the pantry in a blaze, and, before the dog had finished turning around, the feline had pushed the door shut with a click. Sidney the cat preened with satisfaction. "Imbecile," he taunted. "Dogs are like sheep - they'll follow you anywhere. Especially sheepdogs." Then Sidney the Cat slinked to the sink to wash the slobber from his paws. ************************************************************************** N-S-V-V Nat poured a generous three fingers of whiskey into her Official Nunkies Drool Cup as she finished telling Sharon her story and said, "I'm going to Sound Room for a bit. I still feel kind of...violated... from having that Nick in here," She shuddered briefly, "even if he was only partly a Nick. It's just so awful." Sharon, the Not-So's and Monsieur Cabon watched as she left, distressed to see a fellow addict so upset. "I think all the duplicates running around have really pushed her buttons," Jan said sympathetically. "Or pooshed her off zee deep end," Monsieur Cabon sniffed. "Or she's simply homesick," Heather said. "When I let her read my kilt fantasy, I thought I saw her cry." "Nope," Kim corrected. "That was just drool." "Eye drool?" Heather said doubtfully. "It could happen!" Kim insisted. "Can not!" "Can, too!" *CRASH!* *BLAM!* *PING!* *POW!* "Kim! Heather!" Jan shouted. "Stop that brawling this instant!" They didn't pause. "You'll rip your togas!" They didn't even flinch. "You might break something!" They went right on slugging. "And then you'd have to tell Annie and Jules!" Kim and Heather froze, then moved to sit lady-like atop opposite loungers. "I'll fix this," Susan announced. "There's a copy of 'Gray's Nunkies Addict Anatomy' in the Library. I'll go look it up." A few moments later, she re-entered the Shrine, a confused look on her face. "Did you guys know the Poet Laureate is in there?" Kim gave her a considering look. "Shele? What's she doing?" "Sleeping." "Oh." The addict sounded disappointed. "But she has her quill in her hand and her Sacred Inkwell is open!" The addicts gasped in wonder, then scrambled for the Library. Monsieur Cabon trudged afterwards begrudgingly - he had liked dancing to jigs better. They found Shele stretched out on the mahogany table, snoring softly. Her sleep-dribble formed a tiny watermark on the finish's surface. It was obvious that she'd fallen asleep while scribbling something on the paper beneath her hand. "I-want-it!" Heather demanded. "It still my birthday, you know!" "Oh? Happy Birthday, Heather!" Sharon said enthusiastically. "What, still?" Jan protested. "I feel like we've celebrating for days." "We have, but *someone*," Heather glared disapprovingly at the writers, "hasn't bothered to move the plot along, nor have they let us sleep since that trampoline episode!" "Come to think of it," Jan said as she sniffed the air. "No one's written that we've bathed, either." "And I have been working zee job for more than cent-cinquante heures! What about my overtime?" "No wonder we're so cranky!" Kim exclaimed. Kim, Susan, Jan, Heather, and Monsieur Cabon all put their hands on their hips and turned to glare at the writers. Sharon glared too on principle. //**//Okay, Okay. You've slept, bathed, been paid, it's not Heather's birthday anymore, and everyone can have a fresh change of toga, even//**// the writers promised. "Much better," Kim said with satisfaction. "Oh, mon dieu!" Monsieur Cabon cried. "You have put me in zee heavy chiffon and breastplate!" The addicts turned to stare at the restaurant manager and instantly regretted it. Monsieur Cabon was wearing their official uniform, down to the knee-high sandals. Seeing their expressions, He let out a squeal of horror then ran shrieking from the room. "Now I *really* want that poem," Heather said, eyeing the paper under Shele's hand with desperation. Sharon didn't mind the change in wardrobe at all. "Kewl! Does this mean I've been inducted?" Susan protested as she saw Heather's fingers reach out toward Shele. "How do you think you're going to get that from underneath her?!" Susan protested. "Aaahh - just snatch it up - like this!" Heather cackled. Shele's hand flashed out with lightning speed and grabbed Heather's wrist. Without raising her head, she said in a stony voice, "Nobody lays a hand on my haiku." "I wasn't going to touch it," Heather lied baldly as Shele looked up at her. "I was going to fan the ink dry, like this." She began to flap her fingers. Shele rolled her eyes sarcastically. "Uh-huh. Suuuure you were." Not-So-Vestal-Virgin Nat poked her head in the doorway. "Ah! There you are!" She smiled and gave a happy sigh. "All of the sudden, I feel much better - more rested, cleaner, my toga even seems fresh - it's amazing what listening to a Nightcrawler monologue can do!" Shele, meanwhile, noticed that she, herself, was now wearing a breastplate. "When did this happen?" "Shele! You're awake!" Nat cheered. "What's it been - five, six days?" Shele nodded ruefully. "You *knew* she was here?" Kim asked. "Why didn't you mention it? We could've woken Rip Van Shele up!" "She's the Poet Laureate of NA," Nat said as though she stated the obvious. "She needed her iambic pentameter rest." "Ohhhhh." Poet Laureates had no use for beauty sleep. "I needed it, too," Shele declared. "One week of War, and all I've got to show for it is this here haiku." "Share! Share!" Jan and Susan demanded. "I guess it couldn't hurt." Shele cleared her throat. "This one is about *The Hands*." All the addicts released wistful sighs. "Mirrored elegance Holds promise of life and death, He beckons to me." "Look!" Kim exclaimed as Shele finished reading. She pointed to Nat. "What'd I tell you - eye drool!" Susan snorted in protest. "I checked 'Gray's Nunkies Addict Anatomy', remember? There wasn't a word about eye drool!" "Well," Kim said as her eyes flashed, "maybe *I* don't like the way you checked it! Give it here!" "Never!" "Yes!" "No!" *SMACK!* *PONG!* *FOOP!* "Here we go again," Nat sighed as she wiped the moisture from her eyes. "My," Sharon commented, "things do get silly here." "It's in the charter," N-S-V-V Nat confided. Jan leaned against the wood paneling, saying, "Yep, it's a good thing we aren't allowed to have sharp objects - enough wacky stuff happens with the blunt ones." "Face it," Heather announced. "We're on a perpetual collision course with wackiness." Just then, Sidney the Cat came racing through the Library, a recently liberated Sidney the Sheepdog hot on his heels. Both animals were in togas. "Oh my," Sharon said. *************************************************************************** Fin for now Send comments to: gfrye@idt.net heatherp@smart1.net or br1035@ix.netcom.com "Ashes Where Once Fire" Cousin Tser and Cousine Celeste People within used with permission. Takes place a while after "Shave and a Haircut, Two Blinks" During "The More the Merrier" *************************************************************************** Twinkle, twinkle, little hell, Why I'm here, I cannot tell -- You're my future and my past, Can this "meantime" ever last? Twinkle, twinkle, little hell, Why I'm here, I cannot tell. *************************************************************************** He was sitting in the War Room when Tser came in. She looked at him in shock for a moment. It was easy to recognize him as *her* LaCroix, and not one of the other alternates running around. He had been quick to recover from his years of starvation -- physically, at least. His skin was a normal, healthy pallor, his strength had returned. But his eyes still betrayed the years of loneliness and pain. He always had a thoughtful, resigned look about him. Tser wanted to demand to know why he had gone off like that. Of course, no one demands anything of LaCroix, at least not a LaCroix as close to the original as this one, and Tser was quite aware of that. He had been gone what would have been two days, if time had actually existed. Instead, Tser said nothing, merely stared for a moment, then went over to the Cousinly Registry, laying her cell phone down next to the massive volume. She had been spending the past day in the War Room, looking through the oversized leather book, comparing the different notes, trying to find a clue as to which was the LaCroix that belonged in their own reality. More, though, it was for the quiet, because she had been feeling rather down since LaCroix had left. Tser flipped through the pages absently, not paying attention to what she was doing, her mind swirling with irritation. She knew it wasn't her place to get irritated with any LaCroix, especially just for going off on his own without telling anyone. It seemed a fairly LaCroix-like thing to do in the first place. But she couldn't help it. "Hello, Cousin Tserisa," LaCroix said, pronouncing her difficult name perfectly. "Uh, call me Tser," she said, not looking up from the book. She trained her eyes fiercely on the description of Pompeii LaCroix and refused to let her eyes shift. LaCroix cracked a smile. "Angry, are we?" This time Tser turned her head towards him. "Not exactly. Annoyed. You could've told me you were leaving." LaCroix shrugged slightly. "I come and go as I please," he said lightly. "Do you expect otherwise?" Tser shook her head. "No," Tser admitted. She looked LaCroix over. He *was* LaCroix, if not from this reality. "In fact, I wouldn't expect less." LaCroix nodded slightly. Tser broke and turned, exasperated, towards him. "Why did you steal Sidney's collar?" LaCroix looked at her and his brow wrinkled. "What?" he asked sharply. "The collar. Where'd you put it?" Tser asked simply. "Do you have it with you?" "I have no idea what you're talking about," LaCroix said, eyeing her suspiciously. He frowned angrily, and Tser shut up. "Perhaps you should get some rest," he suggested curtly, "because your mind is obviously not up to par." He said it in a way that meant he didn't think it was just lack of sleep, but maybe genetic or chronic. Tser blushed slightly. It wasn't easy to survive insult from someone she held in such high regard. She closed the Registry lightly. LaCroix had a thoughtful, far away look on his face again, and Tser headed towards the War Room door. She looked back one more time. His position and expression hadn't changed. She rode the elevator down to the ground level and walked into the lobby. She went up to Cousin Denese, who was manning the front desk. "He's back," Tser said flatly. "Uh, you mean your LaCroix?" the receptionist asked. Tser nodded blankly. Her stomach was tight and her head ached. She loved being with her fellow Cousins, but everything seemed to be going wrong. She sighed. "It wasn't right of me to expect him to stay in the first place. He's *LaCroix* for crying out loud," she said, mostly to herself. Her annoyance had shifted from LaCroix to herself for being so over-protective of someone who so obviously didn't need protection. "He probably hates me," she said, despair leaking into her voice. "I'm sure he doesn't," Denese assured her. "Seems to me he's a little preoccupied to care if you're keeping tabs on him or not. Why don't you go for a walk," she suggested. Over the past few what-would-have-been-days, Denese had noticed Tser's tendency to heal alone. "I'll tell the Cousinly Leaders he's back. Don't worry about keeping track of him. If he *is* anything like our LaCroix --" she paused. "He is. He's more like our LaCroix than almost any other," Tser murmured. "Well then, don't keep him on a leash. I'm sure he likes you fine. Seems to me he has a fondness for you." Tser looked up at the Cousinly Receptionist. "Probably just feels sorry for me," she said. "Well, no doubt about that," Denese said, smiling. "After all, he *is* LaCroix, and you're just a mortal." Tser grinned. "Look, the others may have to 'keep track' of their alternate beings; I mean, can you imagine what would happen if Ranger Schanke was let loose on the city? Or if the Dream LaCroix didn't have someone to keep him grounded in reality? Your LaCroix, on the other hand, is doing fine blending in with this universe. He's very close to our LaCroix -- whoever and whichever he is. Close enough you don't have to worry about him." Tser smiled. "Thanks. I guess I will take that walk. If anyone wants me, I'll be back in a little bit." The Cousinly Receptionist smiled. "Sure. Careful out there." Tser nodded and left through the front doors. *************************************************************************** LaCroix sat in the War Room, fingering the ring on his hand. He wondered who would be easiest person to obtain more non-native material from -- probably an alternate being already there with the Cousins. But which? Certainly not Divia. He frowned. He wondered if, in her reality, LaCroix had never had reason to kill her. This Divia didn't sound like one who would suggest the things the Divia in his own reality had. In his reality, Divia had been dead since ancient times, dead by his own hands, her lifeless body encased in an Egyptian tomb. He stopped rubbing his ring. Why had she suggested such things? He had never wanted to kill his own daughter. His own mother. He wouldn't still exist were it not for her, and she would not have existed at all were it not for him. Why did she have to inherit such evil? And why would Qa'Ra's kiss of eternity amplify it to such immeasurable proportions? He clenched his fist. Why. Such a worthless question. He might as well be asking why the comet smashed his world to pieces or why the rift had opened and brought him here. Why, in his reality, Natalie lived such a short life as a vampire. Why Janette had died at her own hand. Why Nick had perished of starvation after such a short, tortured life. He chuckled humorlessly. Why he had survived them all, alone, in a world not worth living in. And why, in this reality, it hadn't happened. No one would, or could, answer the questions. This rift was just a lie. A false hope in something better. Or, perhaps, something worse. To be nursed and kept and cared about for an instant, then to be abandoned by the same and thrust back into hell, with the realization that it *could have* been better, *would have* been, if they had really wanted it to be so. LaCroix knew, in the back of his mind, perhaps, that the Cousins were worried sick about him, that they were in torture over his plight. They weren't angsting, they weren't a group to do that, but they were torn apart by his mere presence. They obviously cared a great deal about the LaCroix native to this reality. They had, after all, pledged allegiance to him, and served in his ranks. They obviously thought very highly of him, respected him, and, more than a little, feared him. And they wanted him back, desperately. But the simple fact that there was a verisimilitude of their General living somewhere under the conditions he had was almost killing them. Almost killing them. He himself was already dead inside. He had died long ago, piece by piece. First part when the comet hit, second when Natalie died, then Janette, then Nick, and all his other people, and slowly, he turned to ashes as the world around him did as well. Ashes where once a beautiful, living, breathing world had flamed. Inside, he mirrored the world without. LaCroix went back to fingering his ring absently. He looked up when the door to the War Room opened and two figures stepped through. One, he recognized as one of the leaders of the faction, Cousine Celeste. The other was another LaCroix, the one from an "Alice in Wonderland" reality. And they had massive quantities of teacups with them. Cousine Celeste looked up, balancing tea cups and pots and platters of sandwiches, and noticed Tser's LaCroix sitting there. "Care to join us?" she asked. *************************************************************************** continued in part two "Ashes Where Once Fire" Cousin Tser and Cousine Celeste continued from part one *************************************************************************** Tser walked back into CERK, much improved from her stroll in the night air. Giving a nod to Cousin Denese at the front desk, she headed up towards the elevator. During her walk, she had discovered her cell phone missing, and had remembered leaving it in the War Room. Tser opened the door of the War Room and her mouth nearly fell open when she saw the scene inside. The Dream LaCroix, the LaCroix from hell, and Cousine Celeste were seated at the War Room table, which was set out for a rather elaborate Mad Tea-Party. They were all crowded together at one corner of the large table... Tser was very glad to see they were not using the Cousinly Leader as a cushion. Tser's LaCroix looked at her with a rather exasperated expression on his face, and the Dream LaCroix motioned to the seat next to him. "Please, have a seat, and have some wine," he said in an encouraging tone. Knowing this was one of his preferred phrases, Tser decided not to comment on the absence of such a beverage, and took the seat next to her LaCroix. "Hi, Cousine Celeste," she said to the Cousinly Leader. She surveyed the rather sumptuous tea, noting a variety of fancy sandwiches, substantial amounts of devonshire cream, and a dozen or so tea pots. She wondered idly where all the pots and tea cups and saucers had come from, but dismissed the thought. "Hello, Cousin Tser," Celeste replied rather tiredly. "Welcome to yet another in a series of Mad Tea-Parties. Help yourself to some tea, there's plenty to go around." "By all means," said the Dream LaCroix, "it's laid for a great many more than three." Tser shrugged and poured some tea into a tea cup, and sipped it, experimentally at first. Not bad. In fact, it was just what she needed after her long walk. The Dream LaCroix was nibbling quite daintily on a finger sandwich, alternating it with refined sips of tea. Tser's LaCroix was the only one not sipping tea; he drank some thick, red, liquid from a tall wine flute. He watched the Dream LaCroix quite intently from his nearby seat. "I sense... that you are one of my people... and yet, there's something else, something I can't put my finger on. How do you do that? Consume food, I mean," the other LaCroix asked after a moment of silence. The Dream LaCroix stirred his tea contemplatively. "Perhaps it is because I am someone's dream," he finally said. "And a dream is capable of anything that can be conceived by the dreamer." The other LaCroix looked at him skeptically. "A dream? A dream can't exist in the physical world; I cannot believe *that*," he objected. The Dream LaCroix smiled and raised the teacup to his lips. "Can't you?" he said after taking a sip. "Try again; draw a long breath, and shut your eyes." "This is nonsense," the other LaCroix grumbled. "I daresay you haven't had much practice," said the Dream LaCroix dismissively; yet a smile still played about his lips. "And yet... you've thought that I may be *your* dream, haven't you? That *all* this may be your dream." The other LaCroix's silence told them that this was so. This little exchange piqued Tser's interest. If for every dream there was a reality, there would be some *pretty* strange realities out there, indeed. She thought of some of her own dreams and shuddered, remembering one particularly odd one. On the other hand, if the "dream" realities only followed angst-induced hallucinations, then only Repentant Vampire Dreams became universes. She wasn't sure that anyone was any better off by that or not. She raised her eyebrows. What if *she* was a dream? She shuddered. Tser gritted her teeth. Another type of reality to add to the growing list of alternate realities which seemed to deviate from the norm. It was really giving Tser a headache, and she rubbed her temples. "Is something the matter, my dear?" the Dream LaCroix asked. "I'm fine, a little dizzy, that's all." She looked over at her LaCroix, who was just staring reflectively at the Dream LaCroix. "Hay," the Dream LaCroix stated suddenly, and put down his teacup thoughtfully. The other LaCroix shot him an annoyed look. "Hey, what?" "No, hay," the Dream LaCroix replied. "There's nothing like eating hay when you're faint." "Well, you walked right into that one," Celeste said, a wry grin on her face. "The point being that hay isn't necessarily good for you when you're faint, it's just that there's nothing like it. I've been walking into wordplay traps like that since I met him in my kitchen." Tser grimaced. "Think I'll pass on the hay, thanks. So," she asked the Dream LaCroix, who seemed quite comfortable in his dream-ness, "is your dream reality a physical one or is it...." she trailed off, confusion in her voice, unable to grasp what it would be like if not a physical plane. She frowned. The Dream LaCroix sipped his tea. "Both," he replied simply. "Both?" Tser asked. "So it's physical and it's... what?" "It's physical and a dream," the Dream LaCroix said sharply. "Isn't that what we just said?" "Uh, I have no idea." Tser took a deep breath. "I think you two might do something better with the short time we have in this paradise of relative normalcy than waste it with these riddles that have no answer," Tser's LaCroix cut her off, apparently having had enough of the pseudo-philosophical non-discussion. "If you knew Time as well as I do," said the Dream LaCroix, "You wouldn't talk about wasting *it*. It's *him*." To Tser's surprise and relief, this merely made her LaCroix chuckle. She'd been expecting him to blow his stack. "Are you a *dream* or are you a *nightmare*?" he asked amusedly. "It's my understanding that from the dreamer's point of view, you hadn't been a particularly savory one." He looked down at the rather disorderly table, where a milk jug had been upset into a plate. "Ah," said the Dream LaCroix, "you are speaking of my beamish boy, are you not? Consumed with guilt, his guilt consumed him. I merely attempted to deliver my dear Nicholas from his forever-nightmare. Sometimes the experience that elevates and teaches can be a nightmare in itself, and yet be beneficial." "'That which does not kill me, makes me stronger'? I have had quite a lot of experience with nightmares of late, though I would not call them particularly elevating or instructional," LaCroix said quietly, looking at the small amount of blood that pooled in the bottom of his empty glass. He lifted the glass to his lips and drained it. Tser avoided his unsettling gaze and stared into her tea cup. Cousine Celeste cleared her throat. "I don't think it was a dream or a nightmare," she said. "I think it was a delusion brought on by guilt in an attempt to get past that guilt. To grow up... which is what the Alice books are all about, anyway; growing up. Nicholas' guilt was childish and self-absorbed, he had to learn to forgive himself." "Ah," Tser's LaCroix commented quietly. "I always told him we couldn't handle such mortal emotions. Perhaps the experience taught your Nicholas a lesson. My own, dear 'beamish' boy... he never did get a chance to grow up, for all his 800 years...." He set down his now empty wine glass on a relatively clear place on the table. The two Cousins were silent. There wasn't much else to say. ************************************************************************ Cousin Tserisa and Cousine Celeste left the War Room together. Tser tucked away her cell phone as they walked towards the elevator to the ground floor. Tser had to feed all her Cousinly Critters -- it was hard to judge the proper space of non-time between each feeding and cleaning, so she had to guess. Celeste was due for yet another meeting of the Cousinly Leaders in a very short non-time, and wanted some non-time to relax a little and freshen up before hand. The hall was empty, besides the two. Cousine Celeste's expression turned thoughtful. "That's a rather interesting, if tragic, character you found." "*He* found *me*," Tser said, nodding. "It's giving me nightmares, though, thinking about him having to go back. Let's just hope *those* dreams don't come through the rift." She smiled. "You know, your LaCroix isn't all too boring either. Kind of a fascinating premise." She smiled meditatively. The Cousinly Leader grimaced. "I find it interesting that you were the one with all the hot info on the temporal rift, and now here you are, trying to put a magnifying glass on my LaCroix, who seems to come from some sort of non-concrete, conceptual universe. You *like* dissecting miracles, don't you." It was not a question. Tser grinned widely. "I like that," she said. "Dissecting miracles." Her smile faded; her mind, as was so common lately, switching back to the LaCroix who had attacked her. He had thought, in his madness, that she was a dream-figure herself. He had considered coming through the rift a miracle, and it was going to be taken away from him. Celeste, as if noting her thoughts, smiled sadly. "We have to do something to save him," she said. "We can't send him back to that hell. That would be a waste of a perfectly good LaCroix!" ************************************************************************* The Dream LaCroix remained at the War Room table, sipping from his tea cup, as his vampire counterpart watched him thoughtfully. The Dream LaCroix was the first to break the silence. "What day of the month is it?" he said, turning to Tser's LaCroix; he had taken his pocket watch out of his pocket, and was looking at it uneasily. At first, Tser's LaCroix looked as if he was about to say something cutting, but then he considered a moment, and said, "I do believe I heard one of the Cousins call it 'Friteen' -- apparently the evening of Friday the Thirteen has gone on rather longer than it has generally been known to do in the past." "Two days wrong," sighed the Dream LaCroix. He held the watch in his hand a moment, just looking at it... then his eyes raised to those of his mirror-image companion and he held the pocket watch out, disengaging the chain from his jacket as he did so. The LaCroix who had endured an eternity of hell looked at the offered gift and did not take it at first. This LaCroix did not like to be beholden to anyone, for anything... but, perhaps, for his very existence, he could bend that immutable rule just this once. He took the watch and secreted it in an inside pocket in his own jacket. "A very merry un-birthday," whispered the Dream LaCroix. ************************************************************************* fini WAR: WONDERLAND BITES (1/3) by Laurie MercBard with assistance from Berg, Tami, and Wooby Thanks for reading/editing/contributing little bits and/or moral support to Cj, Casey, Tippi, Andrea, Bons, Kat, and the #foreverknight gang, and to the NNP for being, as usual, such good sports. Everyone used by permission or by coercion. Time: When the people and characters in this story are where they need to be at the exact moment they need to be there. * * * The amusement park had been cleared of the public by the time the team arrived. The event set up had been completed, and the park staff was on a lengthy break. The four Mercs stood at Paramount Wonderland's entrance, momentarily stunned by the glorious commercialism laid out before their eyes. Everywhere they looked, left, right, up, down, front and center, were signs, shops, rides, all promoting the latest Paramount product. "Paramount, Shmaramount, why couldn't it be Sony Wonderland?" Laurie wailed. "Then we'd have Nick and Janette greeting guests, instead of ..." She stared disdainfully at a Yogi Bear billboard ... "... that." "With what's been going on around town, we might find ourselves with a parkful of Nicks yet." Wooby replied. "Top Gun, what kind of a name is that for a ride?", Berg muttered. "Tom Cruise is a wannabe." "Who cares? Let's go on it," Tami said, heading off towards the aforementioned ride. Laurie reached out and grabbed her by her T-shirt, pulling her back toward the group. "Tami, get your butt back here now! "We've things to do ..." She started to sing, "We've got places to go, people to see ..." when she was suddenly deluged with a shower of fluorescent neon crosses from the mercs' equipment bag. "YOU PROMISED YOU WOULDN'T SING!!," her three companions shouted. "And a Merc's word is her bond," Tami added. "Right, Wooby? Wooby ... hey, Wooby, where you going?" The manageress of the 21st Century Gothic shop paid no attention; she'd spotted the Wonderland chocolate shop ahead. Not that a stupid little shop in a stupid little amusement park could possibly compare with the chocolate wares available at HER shop, but it never hurt to check out the competition. She disappeared into the shop, emerging a moment later with her hands full of chocolate Yogis, Barneys, and Nunkies .... Nunkies? "Look, they've got Barneys, Yogis ... Hey, they've got chocolate Nunkies pops here, fancy that!" The other mercs showed no sign of surprise. In the past few days, nights, whatever, they'd seen, among others, a Nickaroo and a LaCroix penguin, to say nothing of Brickman, who was currently standing behind Berg closely examining the stonework on the entrance arch. Who were they to argue with the sudden appearance of chocolate Nunkies in a Toronto amusement park chocolate shop? "Ooh, give me one of those," Laurie said, grabbing a sweetie and lasciviously licking Nunkies' head. The three Mercs stared at her, and she grinned. "So I'm a closet Nunkie. So sue me." Wooby sent Laurie a mental command not to break into the Guys and Dolls soundtrack. "Better not let Jules or Annie hear you refer to yourself as a Nunkie." Tami internally pondered which one of the NA leaders would pay more for that particular tidbit; everyone knew Jules and Annie ate tissue when NA members referred to themselves Nunkies, let alone an outsider. "But you better not tell anyone," she added threateningly, as she stuffed the rest of the chocolate Nunkies in her pocket; she never knew when she'd come across a stray member of NA, and these might prove very useful. "Sure, we won't tell a soul, will we, Berg?" Tami snickered, as she mentally reviewed who would pay the most for that little tidbit. Without looking, she grabbed a pile of chocolate from Wooby's hand, and began grinding them into the dirt with her shoe.. "Oh, yuck, keep those foul, nasty Barneys away from me. Icky things they are. Dinosaurs should be extinct, especially purple ones." In fact, the extinction of purple dinosaurs was her primary missions in life. One of them, anyway. "NOOOOOOOOOOO!!!" Laurie suddenly wailed."Tami, that's Barney Rubble, not Barney the Dino ..." "Don't care, all Barneys must be destroyed." "Too bad they don't have chocolate Nicks, "Wooby noted. "Now, that I could really get my hands around." "Yeah, you and the rest of the known universe," Laurie acerbically commented. "With all these alternates, maybe they'll be enough Nick for everyone." Berg commented, thinking of all the Knighties who dreamed of that every night. The women stared at him incredulously. "There's never enough Nick to go around. I myself would require at least three." Wooby answered, while Tami almost began singing, "Here a Nick, there a Nick, everywhere a Nick, Nick", but a steely look from Laurie stopped her. Berg tuned out the bickering women as he mentally ran through the lengthy to do list. As the primary saboteur... he'd been in charge of gathering the necessary supplies and weaponry .... Aloud, he muttered "Ok. paint, six gallons, check. Hourglass beltpacks, 3, check. Hourglass battlepack, 1, check. Fifteen tubes of epoxy, check. Wax lips, 3, check. Imitation-golden apples, 90, check. Garlic supersoakers, 2, check. Klingon costumes, 3, check. Speaker wire, 250 feet, check. Flashing red lights, 6, check. Sirens, 2, check. Firehoses, 2, check. Instant-sealant, 4 tubes, check. Mini-welding rig, 1, check. Harmonica, 1, check. Toolkits, 3, check. Laptop, 1, check. Radios, 4, check. Garlic grenades, 8, check. Cable brakes, 4, check. Radio switches, 40, check. Radio detonators, 4, check. Loudspeakers, 4, check. That should about do it." Laurie, a few thoughts behind him (but then again, who in the known universe WASN'T a few thoughts behind him?), turned to him. "Okay, let's do a check, shall we?" She pulled out a piece of toilet paper with scribbling all over it. "Check 1", Tami shouted. "Check 2", Wooby shouted. "Locked, Loaded, Willing, and Able!", Berg shouted. "Cool, we're set," the three Mercs declared. "Okay, let's go, hup two three ..." Laurie once again found herself buried beneath a shower of florescent crosses. * * * Laurie and Wooby headed off to the park's computer control center, located at the start of the extensive underground tunnels and storage area. "You've got the CDS and videos, right? " Laurie asked, as they entered the room. Wooby nodded, and they grinned at each other. Laurie had spent what had seemed like hours yesterday (although since someone - or *something* - had turned out the lights, so to speak, who could tell?) splicing bit from FK episodes together, but it had paid off. The CDS held the Natalie-LaCroix love fest, with a soundtrack of "I love you, LaCroix", "You have no idea how much I care, Natalie", "Make love to me, LaCroix. Take just a little at a time", "I've waited an eternity for you, Natalie", "Let me spend eternity with you, Lucien", and a few "I'm a good cop" .wavs thrown in for variation, while the videos contained every single mushy kissy Janette-Nick scene that existed, along with some choice Natalie-LaCroix episodes. "And you've got the flyers?" Laurie tapped her equipment bag. "They're right here." Wooby got to work. She loaded the Nat-LC Endless Love CDS into the sound players, set the readout to 'continuous', punched in the delay codes, and set the volume to maximum. One push of a button and the entire park would be flooded non-stop with Nat and Uncle declaring their endless love for each other. She then turned to the video set up, and began fiddling. "We're gonna have one pissed off NNPer on our hands, you know," she said, thinking of the flyers. They broke into giggles. "Hey, that's what we're here for, isn't it? Besides, that wasn't even my idea, although it's certainly worthy of a mercly mind." Laurie smiled wickedly. "I mean, I was provided with that information. Unfortunately, I wasn't there at the time. To my eternal regret. And just because some poor little NNPer is going to have the entire NNP pissed off...." Wooby didn't bother to respond. They just high-fived, and Laurie contentedly started on Nunkies abdomen, as Wooby turned back to the computer console and set up the video. One push of yet another button, and every screen in the park would run an endless Nick-Janette loop, with some Nat-LaCroix thrown in as well.. * * * As primary saboteur, Berg's duties for the job were fairly extensive. He estimated it would take quite some time to complete them, but he was being well paid in chocolate. Besides, this was one of the more fun jobs he'd had in awhile; it would be great to see it come together. Whoever said Cousins were nastier than Mercs just didn't fully understand the many-layered, devious Merc mind. His first order of business was dealing with the rides that could not be computer sabotaged. What seemed like fifteen minutes later, he was hanging upside by his knees from the support cable of the hang glider ride, the Xtreme Flyer, installing the last of four radio-controlled braking devices. When activated, these would lock the fake-gliders in place, trapping the two riders of one car nearly one hundred feet above the ground, while the other car would be stranded a *mere* thirty feet above solid concrete. Sliding down the cable at vampiric speed (well, close to it, anyway), he made his way to the Bedrock aquarium. The hang glider set up was bad enough, but *this* would deliver the coup de grace to the nerves of anyone unfortunate enough to be caught in it. He chuckled to himself. "And they thought Jaws was scary." He added four new loudspeakers to the sound system, to ensure full coverage of the building. Then he used his trusty mini-welder to seal the emergency exits and staff entrances shut, and taped "Construction in Progress, Hard Hat Area" signs to the outsides of these non-public entrances. Next, gleefully cackling to himself at the nefarious deeds he was engaged in, he added a special sealant to the public doors, and wired a couple of alarm klaxons into the buildings power grid, along with a radio control for them. After adding a remote-controlled pick-proof lock to each of the public entrances of the building, he hooked up the fire hoses to the waterpumps and fire suppression system in the back. His job was done, at least the fishy part of it. "Not bad, if I do say so myself," he thought, pausing to give himself a big pat on the back. He stopped by the main entrance, noting that Tami was nowhere in sight, to let in the medievalists he had convinced to go along with the plan. Actually, it had been child's play to get them to agree; his powers of persuasion were legendary when chocolate was at stake. Boy, would those 'Vampire LARPers' be in for a surprise. As a final touch, he set up a few small, obscure religious symbols around the park, just in case any sneaky faction tried to bring their new-found friends with them, making a mental note to warn Laurie of where he'd placed the objects, so she could pass the info on to the clients, who definitely would be bringing their vampires along, then headed back to the main gate to rejoin the team. * * * Tami was obsessed. She KNEW there were dinosaurs in the park, despite what Laurie had said. She always knew when dinosaurs were around; she had a special secret sense about it. "Now, where could they be hiding? They've got to be around here somewhere." Her eyes lit on the Bedrock shop; the windows were full of Dinos. It was going to be a good night for dead dinosaurs. Setting up security at the front gate could wait. * * * -- Berg Oswell, Mercenary/FosSiL berg@eskimo.com *************************************************************************** WAR: WONDERLAND BITES (2/3) by Laurie MercBard with assistance from Berg, Tami, and Wooby Thanks for reading/editing/contributing little bits and/or moral support to Cj, Casey, Tippi, Andrea, Bons, Kat, and the #foreverknight gang, and to the NNP for being, as usual, such good sports. Everyone used by permission or by coercion. Time: When the people and characters in this story are where they need to be at the exact moment they need to be there. * * * The team regrouped at the main gate. Tami, not surprisingly, was behind schedule. For some reason, she had bits of plush toy stuffing all over her shirt. Laurie went over to help Tami with the infra red equipment, which would weed out invitation forgeries. Wooby did a final check on the holy water drip bottles, which had been installed over the entrance turnstiles, they could be turned on by remote control if necessary, and hung a few more apple decorations, which were in reality, garlic filled. "Let's go over the guest list one more time, k, Tami? We want to make sure we don't have any uninvited guests." Laurie pulled another piece of toilet paper out of her pocket. "Laurie, you do know that writing paper has been invented?" wondered Tami. "Hey, I do my best thinking on the porcelain goddess, and that's all that was handy." "Do NOT take the Goddess' name in vain," Wooby warned. Laurie shook her head, and returned to the list. "We've got a whole load of NNPs coming," she paused to smirk, "... all the Ravens ... Berg snickered. "What, all two of them?" "I was a Ravenette for three wars, best remember your manners." Tami replied, smacking Berg solidly in the arm. "Besides, there's three of them now, and just think, they get the entire Raven to themselves." The mercs paused for a moment of silence to appreciate the thought of having the entire Raven to themselves. " ... at least five Cousins that I know of, an Independent or two, and the FoDs will be here as well." "Gee, I wonder why." Wooby began singing, "So break out those blue ..." "CUT IT OUT! I'm the ONLY person who gets to sing in this story." "Yeah, and you do it pretty appallingly, too." Berg gave the other two mercs a high five. "Because I am such a big hearted person, I will ignore that remark", Laurie said. The neon crosses had already been but in place, so she was deluged by flying Nerf bricks instead. Brickman, having arrived a moment before, and passed the Nerf bricks out just in case, simply shrugged at Laurie's glare. "Mortar Moron, that's what he is." Laurie muttered, but under her breath. He might be a moron, but he was still a vampire, and she wasn't that stupid. She turned back to the business at hand. "And our clients know about the special anti-vampire arrangements, and how to bring their vampires into the park without problems?" she asked. "Yup," Berg replied. "You know," he added. "The NNP is never gonna be able to figure out who our clients are. " He cackled maliciously. "With what those addicts have been up to lately, NA will be the first candidate. Or maybe they'll blame *all* the Cousins, not just the three who hired us." "And don't forget the Bird chicks," Wooby contributed. "How much time do we have left?" Laurie said. "What time is it? What day is it? What century is it?" Tami giggled. "How would we know, the clocks have stopped, remember?" Wooby glared at her. "Geez, you've got a mind like a steel sieve." "I know THAT." "What, you know, you've got a mind like a steel sieve? Such self-awareness. I AM impressed." "Well, you should be. And just for that, I'm not gonna tell you about the time tracker Berg and I developed. So there." Laurie stuck her tongue out. Wooby put on her best oh, pretty please look. Berg, always ready to piss off the team leader, whispered in Woobys ear, and she broke into a grin. Anything that involved listening to an episode of FK was fine with her. "Will you please just ANSWER THE QUESTION." Berg turned his attention back to Laurie. "I'd say one Dead of Night and one Curiouser." "Only one Curiouser? I thought there were two." Tami and Wooby linked arms and began swinging each other around, chanting, "Oh no, we've lost a Curiouser. Very odd; this is getting Curiouser and Curiouser." A glare from Laurie quieted them. "Actually, we're now down to 3/4 of a Curiouser. We better get moving." Berg turned and headed off to the costume shop, with the rest of the team straggling behind. * * * Wooby and Berg quickly changed into the Star Trek uniforms they had brought with them. Berg donned his head ridges, and the uniform of a Klingon warrior (generic), plus battle armor and some sort of disruptor cannon. Laurie and Tami started to tear through the costume racks. "Hey, I think Tami should wear this." Laurie picked up a Dino head. NO WAY!!!" Tami wailed, flailing her arms rapidly as the other two mercs grabbed her and pushed her towards their fearless (well, generally fearless, depending on circumstances, of course) leader. Suddenly Laurie dropped Dino, who bounced off into the corner. "Yuck, smells like a dead dinosaur in there." "Dead dinosaur, dead dinosaur, let's hear it for dead dinosaurs," Tami shouted, as she jumped up and down on the head, flattening Dino to a pulp. "How about these, Tami?" Berg asked, holding out a pair of Vulcan ears. "Ooh, that'll do." Tami grabbed them and busily began attaching them to her forehead. Berg turned to Laurie. "And what are you going to wear?" "I don't have to wear a costume. I'm the Grand High Poobah of this little party." Laurie did a passable imitation of the GHP's tone, snickering. "Ooh, ooh, we're gonna tell! We're gonna tell! Laurie took the GHP's name in vain. We're gonna tell!" Laurie groaned. She was in enough trouble with Dianne as it was, being blamed first for Brickman - she paused to give Berg a dirty look - and then for LushNick invading the GHP's oh so sacred space. Maybe if she offered them a higher percentage of the take on this job, they wouldn't tell. As far as she was concerned, her three partners could have all the chocolate they'd made on this job. Of course, they had no way of knowing exactly what else beyond chocolate she'd managed to work into the contracts; they were subcontractors, after all. Yes, that painting was going to look absolutely extraordinary; and she was sure the use of the Raven as a hideout for one night would also come in handy, probably very very soon. The three mercs approached her threateningly, with costumes in hand. "Ok, ok,. I'll be ..." she grinned ... "the Captain. After all, I DO give the orders around here." She fell to the ground with a thud, buried underneath Fred, Barney, Dino, and Astro heads. * * * -- Berg Oswell, Mercenary/FosSiL berg@eskimo.com ************************************************************************** WAR: WONDERLAND BITES (3/3) by Laurie MercBard with assistance from Berg, Tami, and Wooby Thanks for reading/editing/contributing little bits and/or moral support to Cj, Casey, Tippi, Andrea, Bons, Kat, and the #foreverknight gang, and to the NNP for being, as usual, such good sports. Everyone used by permission or by coercion. Time: When the people and characters in this story are where they need to be at the exact moment they need to be there. * * * The Museum was deserted. The mercs stared disgustedly at the display of memorabilia. "Hey, Tami, want to try on the jumpsuit?" Wooby asked. "What color are we going to paint it?" Wooby chimed up. "Duh, we're doing this for two Knighties - well, according to the instructions they sent, they're sort of Knighties, anyway," Laurie responded, thinking of the strange message that had arrived at Merc Central for her, ordering this job. "What color do you think we're gonna paint it?" "GREEN!" shouted Wooby. "The car's not green, it's ..." Tami tried to speak. "MINT!" "IT'S not mint, it's ..." "AQUA! "IT'S NOT aqua ... Laurie put on her best Sister Mary Elizabeth voice. "SHUT UP!!!!" Tami spoke into the momentary silence. "It's metallic turquoise." "Yeah, and just how would you know that, Miss Smarty Pants, huh?" Wooby sneered. "Because Nick told me himself." "Yeah, right, like you know Nick." "I do know Nick." "Do not." "Do too." "Do not!" "Do ..." Sister Mary Elizabeth made a reappearance. As the women once again carried on and on and on, Berg began emptying his equipment bag, and preparing for the task ahead. Since his costume included paint reservoirs (in the armored boots), and a paint sprayer (disruptor pistol), he wasted no time in applying the special, pre-cut masking panels to the windows, chrome, lights, and other fittings of the Caddy. Once they were applied, the painting was simply a matter of covering the entire car with that peculiar shade of green-blue of Nick's Caddy, which was easily accomplished with the high-pressure paint sprayer he'd brought along. By the time the others finished their argument about the color, he was done. He'd been right, as usual. The painting had gone off exactly as planned. It certainly paid to be a mechanically-inclined Merc, that was for sure. The paint tanks emptied without clogging, and the paint sprayer didn't explode. What more could he ask for? The other mercs suddenly realized Berg had finished and the car in front of them was ... "METALLIC TURQUOISE!!!" they screamed, as Berg did a Polka across the museum floor with an imaginary friend. Somehow blue suede shoes didn't quite fit with his full Klingon regalia. "Okay, that's it, me merry men ..." Laurie announced. "Get over it, Laurie, you are not Robin Hood." Wooby scoffed. "Nah, she's more like Friar Tuck, if you ask me." Tami chimed in. "All right, let's get into our final positions. Boys and girls, IT'S SHOWTIME!" * * * Laurie had one final matter to attend to. Miraculously, Penguin LaCroix showed up right on schedule. "We had an agreement. I *always* honor my word," he said. "Yeah, right, just like a merc." Laurie muttered. "Excuse me? Did you say something?" Penguin LaCroix gave her a disdainful look. "Me? No, not a word. Perhaps you're hearing voices." "I ... am ... not ... amused." "Well, you should be. Lighten up. This is an amusement park." "Let's get this little drama over with, shall we?" Penguin LaCroix shook one of his flippers at her. "Okay, here's what I need you to do." Laurie described the game plan. "Very well. I will do as you direct. For this one time only." "And remember what I told you. DON'T eat the fish." * * * Watch for the conclusion of this little adventure in WONDERLAND BITES, AND IT BITES BIG, coming soon to a computer near you. -- Berg Oswell, Mercenary/FosSiL berg@eskimo.com Wonderland Bites And It Bites Big (1/2) by Laurie MercBard Schlagel Thanks for reading/editing/contributing little bits and/or moral support to Berg, Tami, Wooby, Cj, Casey, Tippi, Andrea, Bons, Kat, Spiff, and the #foreverknight gang, and to the NNP for being, as usual, such good sports. Everyone used by permission or by coercion. Time: When the people and characters in this story are where they need to be at the exact moment they need to be there. * * * The guests had begun filing into the park. Laurie, leaving Tami with instructions to keep an eagle eye out for unwanted visitors, went to do a final check. Wooby was stationed in the computer room, while Berg prowled the park, in full Klingon battle armor, in case anything went wrong with the plan. The moment she disappeared from view, four (well, three and a half) Mercly heads appeared and approached Tami. "Hey, Tami, we hear this is gonna be some shindig." Jennifer grinned at Tami's look of dismay. "Yup. We were just sitting around Merc Central, watching tv, when all of a sudden right there on the screen, we saw Nick in a commercial." Nancy chimed in. She mimicked the detective's voice. "Mercenaries, you're in the middle of a war. What are you going to do now?" "WE'RE GOING TO WONDERLAND!", Heather shouted. "Shhhh! I'm in disguise. You don't recognize me. In fact, you don't even see me." "How can we not see you? You're standing right in front of us." Nancy poked at Tami's belt. "Besides, it's a totally lame costume." "Yeah, but it's got some nice shiny bits on it." Heather, a true Ratpacker, began picking at the gold braiding on Tami's shoulder. Tami disgustedly slapped her hand away. "Get lost, will you?" "But we want to come to the party, can we, pretty pretty please? " Heather jumped up and down. If one didn't know better, she almost looked like she was - gasp - bouncing. "No way! I'm under strict orders from Laurie. Nobody, and I mean nobody, gets in without an invitiation." "Did you know I just recently changed my name to Nobody Garcia?" Jennifer innocently asked. "Get real." Nancy had a whispered conversation with her husband, Carl, who was standing behind her with a stunned look in his eyes, wondering just how he'd got caught in this particular Knightmare. She turned back to Tami, triumphantly digging a bag of Ethel M's Kahlua Truffles, Tami's favorite chocolate, out of her enormous purse. Tami's eyes glazed over, as she looked longingly at the chocolates. She glanced quickly over her shoulder. The team ogre was nowhere in sight. The chance to make some easy chocolate was just too much to resist. After all, what harm could a few mercs, under strict orders to behave, possibly cause? She stepped back and let them pass into the park. * * * Tippi wasn't quite sure what she was doing here, or even why she had been invited. She HATED Elvis Presley. But the idea of an evening out had just been too appealing. The manor house was a zoo, and she'd been sitting endlessly by the phone, waiting for a call, worrying about that ridiculous penguin. Anything that would keep her distracted for a bit had to be a good thing. Besides, she'd heard through the grapevine (although technically an Independent, she was still very much connected, and had quite a few friends in high places among certain factions) there would be a major attack on the NNP, and she couldn't resist the opportunity to watch the fireworks. And she just LOVED ferris wheels. She headed into the park, keeping an eye out for Cousins she knew would be here. Suddenly, she stopped in her tracks. She blinked. Opened her eyes. Blinked again. Could it be? She shook her head. "No, that's impossible," she thought. "He can't be here. He's been kidnapped ..." * * * The party was in full swing at the Museum, as guests poured over the memorabilia. Laurie, swinging by on her rounds of the park, noted an animated Elvis Schanke engaged in conversation with what seemed like thin air, with an engrossed Lounge Lizard LaCroix standing nearby. She hoped Elvis Schanke wouldn't get an urge to try on one of the jumpsuits, although, on the other hand, photographs of *that" might make excellent blackmail material. "Geez, look at those clothes," Laurie thought. "Too bad we couldn't have dressed the NNP in duds like that." She smiled evilly as Spifff walked over. "This is great, Laurie. Our Schanke seems to be getting along very well with Elvis Schanke. And nice job on the car, BTW." She grinned. "Nice job on the what? What are you talking about?" she answered, trying to put on her best innocent, who me look and failing miserably. "I know. A merc never talks about her jobs. Actually, while I have you here ..." Spifff made her request. Laurie looked over at the case where the White Eagle Cape that Elvis had worn on his final "Aloha from Hawaii" tour was prominently displayed. Too bad Spifff hadn't asked her earlier; she could have easily grabbed it when they had been painting the car. Still, she was sure she'd be able to "borrow" it for the FoDs; she'd just come back for it at another point. Besides, the Elvis shrine at the Deli could use some sprucing up. And to compensate for the added danger of having to return to the scene of the crime, she'd add a few extra pounds of chocolate to the bill. "Sure, Spifff, I can take care of that." They finalized the details and shook on it. As Laurie continued to scan the room, she noticed two men who seemed inordinately interested in just how much trunk space the Cadillac had. They seemed to be close; best friends perhaps? Judging by their body movement, perhaps even more. They also looked vaguely familiar. "Where have I seen them before?" she mused. "Maybe on fkfic?" She moved closer to hear their conversation. "Katrinka's going to be be so excited. I bet she's gonna love her present," the dark haired one said, excitedly rubbing his hands together. She couldn't help but notice his liberpulidan accent. The second man had a cockney accent. He also was wearing very tight patched jeans; patched in all the right places, she noticed. "Yeah, great idea, hiring mercs to paint the white Caddy green, huh? " Laurie smiled. Ah, so here were her elusive clients. Great idea, indeed. Anything that led to vast amounts of chocolate was more than a great idea, it was a brilliant one. * * * Laurie next checked in on Wooby, and was looking for Berg when she heard a commotion at the front entrance over the radio and rushed back there. Tami was helplessly embroiled with a chocolate-rabid Bonnie. "Nunkies pops! I want those Nunkies pops! Give them to me!" Bons repeated over and over, despite multiple attempts to shove any available object in her mouth to shut her up. Laurie sighed. She'd *heard* about this woman and her severe case of Nunkies addiction. Once she had her mind set on anything having to do with her beloved hunk of Roman General, she became a single-minded fiend. Possessed, almost. If she didn't get her hands on those Chocolate Nunkies (and just *how* had she known about them, anyway? A sixth Nunkies sense?) who knew what she might do? Bonnie continued to try to climb the park entrance gate. She was oblivious to all but her quest. "Hey! Slacker!" she suddenly yelled at the WereVachon who stood nearby, shaking his head. "Don't just stand there - give me a boost!" "Can't." Vachon didn't look remotely sorry. "My Nick side is restraining me from helping you feed your addiction. Honest." Laurie finally groaned in exasperation. "All right, you might as well let them in. She's *never* going to shut up, otherwise." She walked off in search of one of the Cousins who had actually been invited. She knew Senara and Michele were both members of NA. They'd just have to add Bonnie-sitting to their evening activities. *************************************************************************** WAR: Wonderland Bites, And It Bites Big (2/2) by Laurie MercBard Schlagel Thanks for reading/editing/contributing little bits and/or moral support to Berg, Tami, Wooby, Cj, Casey, Tippi, Andrea, Bons, Kat, Spiff, and the #foreverknight gang, and to the NNP for being, as usual, such good sports. Everyone used by permission or by coercion. Time: When the people and characters in this story are where they need to be at the exact moment they need to be there. * * * Laurie continued her rounds. She made a quick tour of the chain link fence perimeter; they'd had to patch a few holes in it, but she was almost certain they'd found them all. Passing by the Bedrock aquarium, she giggled as she thought of the new filk she was working on: LaCroixs, meet the LaCroixs They're your modern vampire family They're a happy trio And they've lived through most of history. She noticed the Ravens heading her way, and quickly turned around, wanting to avoid her various clients. The last thing she needed was the Ravens and the Cousins meeting up and discovering she'd been double dipping. Quite a neat trick, if she did say so herself. She'd noticed a few Cousins discretely following various NNPs, excitedly waiting for the fun to begin. "As well they should be," she thought, remembering the very special painting she'd soon have her hands on. "They certainly paid enough for it." She caught up with the NNP, and followed them as they made their way around the park and dispersed in pairs and threesomes. She trailed after the pair headed to the Xtreme Flyer, giggling to herself. "I knew they wouldn't be able to resist it," she thought, as the two NNPs approached the ride. Lurking in the shadows, she heard a squawk through her transmitter; she'd insisted, despite strenuous objection and a lot of flapping flippers, that LaCroix Penguin wear one also. He'd managed to lure three of the NNP into the aquarium and seemed to be doing a good job of intimidating them; given his charming personality, she was sure it had not been difficult. The squawk was followed by Berg's signal that the LARPers were in place. Laurie took a deep breath, as the NNPs were strapped into a harness, and slowly began the descent to the top. "Okay, guys, they're going for it," she whispered, "Wooby, you ready?" "Roger." She peered up as the harness neared the top, and suddenly halted. "Go." LaCroix's luscious voice suddenly filled the air, as Janette and Nick made out on the video screen above her. * * * The mercs, much as they wanted to, did not plan on remaining for the ensuing chaos; that would be stupid. "A stupid merc is a dead merc," Laurie thought, as she rapidly made her way to the computer center, ignoring the giggling Cousins and Ravens. Berg had already joined Wooby. Tami was nowhere in sight. "Where has she gotten off to now?" Laurie asked, her irritation plain. "We've got to get out of here now." She was just about to launch into a tirade when Tami appeared, followed closely by a squawking Penguin LaCroix, who not only was munching on a fish, but had several of the poor fish's buddies hanging from his pockets. "Get away from me, you stinky Penguin!" Tami shouted. "You *will* not leave me in this ... this ... despicable place. I refuse to remain with these people ..." Penguin LaCroix gave a penguiny shudder, "... a moment longer." "You've got feet. Use them." "Yeah, you've got huge feet. Waddle on out of here." That helpful comment came from Wooby. Penguin LaCroix refused to budge. He attempted to cross his flippers, gave up, and simply stood there staring at them. The four mercs looked at each other. Looked at Penguin LaCroix. Looked at each other. Looked at Penguin LaCroix. Looked at each other. Except for the movement of their eyes, one would have thought they'd been turned to stone. Penguin LaCroix glared balefully back, then reached into his pocket, stuffed another fish in his mouth, and began noisily munching. That broke the spell. "NO WAY!" the four shouted. "Way," he replied, spitting bits of fish bone at them. "NO WAY!!" "Way." "NO WAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" Penguin LaCroix would not give ground. "If you will not help me leave this despicable place, I will go out there and tell your enemies what you have done." "What, you don't think they've noticed by now?" Berg caustically added. "I will tell them your names." "You don't know our names," Wooby said. "I *know* one name." He fixed his eagle, make that penguin, eye on Laurie. "Geez, give a penguin a knot and he takes a hectare," Laurie muttered. "Um, Laurie, hectares and knots are different measurements," Berg said. "Don't you know anything?" "I KNOW THAT." "Well, then why'd you say it?" Tami and Wooby were about to take up the "Dummy, dummy, you are a dummy" chant, but realizing the perilousness of their situation, managed to contain themselves. After all, they might soon have who knew how many NNPs after them; there sure were enough, those guys seemed to breed like rabbits. Laurie sighed. They didn't have a lot of options, and had to get out of there at once. She had no doubt that Penguin LaCroix would betray them for a song, or even a herring. They were stuck. Their merry band of four was now five, although that wouldn't last long. They'd rid themselves of their unwanted guest at the first opportunity. "Fine. You can come. But you better not drip on us or you'll be one dead duck." "Um, Laurie, penguins and ducks are different species." This from Wooby. "FINE! You'll be one pickled penguin, Got it?" LaCroix Penguin nodded. He and the mercs filed out of the control room, leaving a trail of fish bones in their wake. * * * Berg led the way into the tunnels. A short distance in, he stopped in front of what was obviously a door. "Right, this will place us off the park grounds, just outside the delivery area. We can take off from there." He distributed the three beltpacks and harnesses to the mercs, and strapped on his own battlepack. "And where is mine?" Penguin LaCroix asked disdainfully, "I only have four. Someone's going to have to carry you piggy back. And it sure isn't going to be me." "Nor me!" said Wooby. "Ick, forget it," Tami threw in. Penguin LaCroix's flippers started flapping. Berg, Wooby, and Tami moved back as far as the narrow tunnels would allow, leaving Laurie alone with the sputtering bird. The three stared pointedly at their team leader. "Hey, wait a second, how come I've got to be the carrier mule here?" "BECAUSE YOU'RE THE LEADER." The three mercs responded. "Besides, you hired him." "Ok, fine. But let's get out of here ... NOW." It did not appear to be fine with Penguin LaCroix. So Berg picked him up, deposited him on Laurie's back, and strapped him to her harness. Penguin LaCroix was so stunned he actually stopped squawking for a moment, although his beak was positioned a bit too close to Laurie's left ear for comfort. They pushed open the door to the deserted area outside, and prepared to depart, setting the controls for take off, just as Penguin LaCroix found his lungs, squawking in Laurie's ear, "How dare you do this to me? I - am - Lucien - LaCroix." They slowly lifted up in the air and headed toward Merc Central, ignoring the chaos now ensuing in the park grounds now far beneath them, and pleased with how well the operation had gone off. Now all they had to do was ditch the bird, and their job was done. *************************************************************************** Wonderland: Through the Looking Glass .. Er .. Chain Link Fence! Part One of Two By Amythest Dragon Beta'd by Laurie MercBard Everyone in here is used with permission. Time: Concurrent with "Wonderland Bites and It Bites Big" Part One. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 'Tasha and Amythest made their way along the chain link fence that marked the border of Wonderland. Amythest opened her mouth to speak and 'Tasha shook her head. "Don't bother.. I am still not speaking to you! I don't know if I'll ever forgive you for suggesting I should 'dig' our way in! It's not as though I'm some carouche like Screed.. Ecch! I've never even touched animal blood." "I'm sorry, 'Tasha," Amythest started apologetically, "It probably wouldn't have worked anyway.. They've likely got at least 3 feet of cement under the link in the ground." 'Tasha glared at Amythest. "Well there's got to be a break in the link somewhere along here. It never fails. Kids always break in and as fast as security can fix the break another one appears. Just a matter of looking carefully enough." "How do you know so much?" Amythest looked pointedly at Natasha. "Well in my universe, -this-", she pointed at the park through the chainlink, "has been there a lot longer. I used to be one of the kids that broke in." Natasha smiled embarrassedly, then she pushed her mirrored sunglasses further up on her nose. "I don't know where you got those clothes," Amythest shook her head, "but they look great. I didn't think you or Nick had brought your credit cards.." "Came from the same place as the bike I drove us here on," Natasha grinned cheshire cat-like, "And to explain it." She lifted her sunglasses, "Look into my eyes." "That's not even remotely legal," Amythest sounded disappointed in her vampiress. "Don't worry," Natasha glowered at the wet blanket, "I left something behind to pay him for the stuff, just not cash or credit. It's worth way more than the bike and leathers anyway. Hey, there's a break in the fence.. See I told you there'd be one. The foliage is hiding it. Luckily we're both pretty small." Natasha handed her helmet to Amythest, walked up to the fence and slid through the hole in the chain with the easy grace of a hunting cat. Amythest passed the helmet and her own through the hole to 'Tasha and then eased her way through with considerably more difficulty. While Amythest was squeezing her way through, Tasha felt something odd. She looked behind her expecting trouble. It -felt- like a vampire somewhere nearby. She looked around, and out of the corner of her eye she thought she saw a flying horse... 'A FLYING HORSE?' she thought to herself, 'This place must be getting to me.' Then a squeak of pain brought her out of her contemplations. "Yowch! That was a tight squeeze," Amythest rubbed her rump as it had nearly gotten caught on a piece of protruding metal. Tasha was nearly bouncing, "Hurry up! Let's go..." "Why are you so excited?" Amythest looked at 'Tasha oddly. "I -love- rides!" 'Tasha exclaimed. "You can fly.." Amythest was dumbfounded. "Yeah, but it's not the same!" 'Tasha grabbed Amythest's black leather jacket and drug her bodily into the park. They started wandering through the park, looking as though they belonged, which wasn't hard because of all the other wierdos wandering around too. They cruised about having hoardes of fun and practically forgetting their promise to meet up with the rest of the Nick and Natpackers in attendance. As they got off the Top Gun ride for the third time, with 'Tasha extolling the virtues of Tom Cruise in that movie, Amythest stopped her from getting in line again. "'Tasha, maybe we should start looking for Casey and Cj," Amythest said grumpily and mumbled to herself, "Before you start in that he was -so- great in Interview with a Vampire." Amythest had forgotten about vampire hearing, "Ewww! Interview was horrible! Bad casting and he's really gone downhill since Top Gun.." 'Tasha smiled showing a little fang, "My dear, you must remember about my vampire hearing and temper..." Just then a bedraggled, depressed woman came up to them, "Vampire herring?" "No," 'Tasha said patiently to the new arrival, "Vampire -hearing-!" "Oh," the woman said dejectedly, "It's just that that sounded like something that might attract my LaCroix." "Herring and LaCroix??" Natasha looked at the woman as though she was deranged. "Even in my universe LaCroix isn't that sick. Why would LaCroix bring herring across?" "He wouldn't bring them across," Tippi said forelornly, "He'd -eat- them. He's a penguin." "OH!" Amythest exclaimed. "You're Tippi, the cousin who went independant and was .. er .. blessed with the Penguin LaCroix everyone's talking about! Nice to meet you.." Amythest Dragon shook her hand. "How are you enjoying the park?" "I'm not, I keep seeing -him-, which is, of course, impossible, since he's been kidnapped," Tippi shrugged, "I know I'm losing my mind. You haven't seen him, have you?" "No, but maybe he's escaped?" Amythest offered a ray of hope in true NNpack fashion. Natasha was suspiciously silent. "Maybe." Tippi brightened for a moment, "But no, he'd come back to me if he had." Amythest laid a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Well, if we see him, we'll be sure to tell him you're here," Natasha said quickly, and drug Amythest off in another direction. Tippi waved good-bye at them and continued to wander aimlessly. "Why'd you do that?" Amythest pulled free from Natasha's grip and glared at her vampiress. "She's obviously deranged," Natasha stated. "I believe that she has a penguin LaCroix." Amythest crossed her arms, "Several other people have encountered him." "That's not what I meant," Natasha said plainly. Amythest gave her a questioning look so Natasha continued, "Number one, if I had a penguin LaCroix and he was kidnapped, I sure as heck wouldn't be moping. I'd be celebrating! Number two, she -believes- he's been kidnapped." "Well of course she does," Amythest said defensively. "Amythest, use that 'uncle-like' brain everyone says you have! Whatever that means... This is LaCroix we're talking about, even if he is just a penguin LaCroix. Do you really believe -he- could be kidnapped? Hey, as much as I hate the guy, even I can't believe that." Amythest nodded in agreement; looking at it that way, she had to concede the point. They continued walking, looking for the Nick and Natpack. Instead, they stumbled into some brightly clad, hawaiian shirt wearing people in front of a refreshment stand. "You guys must be the FoDs, right?" Amythest asked, smiling. She'd always had a soft spot for Schanke and had cried when he had died. "You betcha, I'm Spifff, this is Johan and Charles." Spifff said, "And you have us at a disadvantage." "I'm Amythest Dragon, with the N&Npack. She's Natasha," Amythest said, smiling as she slid her glasses down her nose, "Why didn't you guys introduce 'Schanke' over here?" She motioned to an empty space beside one of the FoDs. "Nice to meet ya, Schank." Natasha was looking at Amythest funny and the other two FODS gaped. "Cool, most people can't see him!" Spifff looked impressed, "How come you can?" "I'm Wiccan and I've always been able to sense spirits. If they're strong enough I can even see 'em." Amythest smiled at Spifff winningly. "Righteous!" Spifff cried, "Would you like to come with us, we're heading for the Elvis exhibit." "Ah... Maybe later, okay? We have to find our compatriots," Amythest said. "Would you like a hot dog, Natasha?" Charles asked while Amythest and Spiff were talking. "Sorry, I don't eat. But thanks for the offer," Natasha said honestly and smiled, forgetting her fangs were partially descended. "Whoa, I thought they said no vamps!" The FoD exclaimed. "They did but we gate crashed," Natasha smiled again after making her fangs recede. All the FoDs started glaring at Amythest and Natasha, so Amythest this time grabbed Natasha and hauled her away. "That was patently stupid!" "Why? Schanke in my universe would have thought gate crashing was cute," 'Tasha said pouting. "-WE AREN'T IN YOUR UNIVERSE ANYMORE, TASHA-", Amythest hollered with a rough voice. It was still in bad shape from the Sly-fest. All eyes around them focused on them as they moved away after Amythest's outburst. "Well, that was clever!" Natasha remarked. Amythest continued at a quieter volume, "Now they're bound to tell security about us. We'd better move away from here quickly." They zigged and zagged back and forth on a crazy course guaranteed to throw anyone following them off their tail and finally found themselves in front of a sweet shop with a very familiar figure outside of it. "Bons!" Amythest cried. There was no response from her fellow addict. "Bonnie?" She called again. Still no response. It appeared to Amythest that she was in a full blown Nunklear Meltdown. Amythest walked up to her friend, Natasha following with an unamused expression on her face. Amythest shook Bonnie slightly and then turned to Natasha. "She appears to be in a full blown Nunklear meltdown.. I can't imagine what..." Amythest looked in the window and saw what Bonnie saw. Suddenly Amythest too, was in a full Nunklear meltdown. Natasha shook her friend's shoulder, "Amythest... Amythest Dragon... AMY..." "Chocolate Nunkies..." Amythest stammered, drool running down her chin as she was too impaired to reach her drool cup. Bonnie reacted to the familiar sound of another addict in meltdown and looked at Amythest. "Anatomically correct," she muttered in a slobbery manner. Natasha looked in the window and her face contorted into an expression of disgust, "Ecch! That's disgusting. Now, chocolate Nicks, that I could understand. Hell, if I could eat still, even I'd be drooling! Even Gummi Schankes would be better than... Uggh!" Tasha grabbed Amythest's arm and pulled her away bodily. Her body drug on the ground for a few meters before the pain became a sufficient anti-Nunklear device. "Ouch! Tasha let me up," Amythest grumbled as she tried to get her feet underneath her. "The disgusting things you learn about friends," Tasha glared at Amythest in disbelief. "Hey, I turned to Nunkies out of loyalty to you. I find Nick really attractive but he's meant to be with you sooo.." Amythest sighed, remembering the sight of the chocolate treats. Natasha mulled it over a bit and then said, "Well, I guess your heart was in the right place. But couldn't you have become a Vachon addict or something??" "Sorry, I hate slackers. Besides, Vachon isn't my style. I go for older looking men," Amythest said dreamily, still caught in the afterglow of her meltdown. "I think there's a insult to Nick somewhere in that comment, but I'm going to ignore it for now," Natasha said as she allowed Amythest up and they continued on their way. "Where are we going Tasha?" Amythest asked as she finally totally returned to normal. "The Elvis Exhibit," Natasha said. "We've looked everywhere else. Maybe they're there!" Amythest and Natasha slinked into the exhibit, wary of the security that the FoDs might have sicked on them. They found no one but the FODS inside, and being careful to avoid them, crept out the front entrance. 'Tasha brightened up a bit as she saw a well dressed party ahead of them. "Now, there's someone I want to talk to." She smiled and primped a bit, pulling a compact and a comb out of her pocket, fixing her makeup and hair. Amythest grumbled. As if Tasha needed to bother with that. This Natalie had mastered the ability to look perfect all the time. Amythest peered through the curtain they were standing behind. Ah, there was Janette. No wonder Natasha was primping. "May I point out to you that that's not -your sister Janette-, it's some other Janette from who knows what dimension." Amythest quickly borrowed Natasha's comb and compact. "Any fellow vampiress in a storm, besides she's always good for rousting up trouble!" 'Tasha straighted her skin tight black motorcycle leathers and pushed her sunglasses up onto her head, tucking her helmet under one arm. "Janette!" The other vampiress and her followers turned and looked shocked. "Natalie??" Janette said, a little taken a back. "Actually, it's Natasha. I just wanted to say 'Hi' to a familiar friendly face! At least I hope you're friendly. Wouldn't want to wreck the Caddy in there in a cat fight!" Tasha motioned towards the Elvis exhibit. "Hey isn't it supposed to be white? That looks more like Nick's caddy." "You look good," Janette said and sounded as though she was frightened by the fact that she was being honest; she also seemed suprised to see them. "Well, in my universe, you took me under your wing after Nick brought me across. I save the business stuff for official functions, when they come up, and you've even helped me update my wardrobe that way, too." "So you and Nicholas are together?" Janette asked, sounding slightly annoyed. "Yeah, and you brought Robert across. God, is he gorgeous! Suits you better than Nick ever did. He can be such a slob at times!" Natasha smiled at Janette. "Brought Robert... That did not happen for me, Natasha. I would like to talk to -you- more later, perhaps. But now my friends and I must go." Janette finished. While the vampiresses had been talking, Amythest had approached the Ravens and introduced herself. "Hi, I'm Amythest Dragon. With the Nick and Natpack." "I'm Andrea, these two are Chris and Julie, and those are the undynamic duo, Lounge Lizard LaCroix and Elvis Schanke." Andrea finished the introduction. Amythest noted Janette's surprise but continued, "My condolences. How did the Ravens end up with... them?" "An unfair twist of fate?" Julie responded, shrugging. "I knew the universe was all screwed up but, oiy!" Amythest said, watching the Ravens and their alternates carefully. "Love the hat by the way." Amythest indicated the "Bite Me" ball cap on Andrea's head. "Just be careful certain 'Nicks' don't see you wearing it. They'll take you seriously!" "I know." Andrea smiled, "Thanks!" Just then Janette summoned her friends and they all headed off towards the roller coaster. Amythest looked at Natasha, as she strolled up looking pleased with herself. "Something isn't right!" Amythest said, as Tasha looked at her oddly. "What?" Tasha asked. "We can't find our fellow NNPackers anywhere, and Janette acted as though we weren't supposed to be here." Amythest looked contemplative. "But we're not supposed to be here." Tasha put her hands on her hips, looking annoyed. "Yeah, but how would -she- know that unless... I smell a trap! Let's go Tasha!" The vampiress and the intuitive N&Npacker rushed out into more open ground. At least the odds were equal out there. *@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@@*@*@*@*@*@*@* Amythest Dragon (AKA Tammy Morrison) amydrag@freenet.edmonton.ab.ca Nick and Natpack Dragon Protector of Knights and Damsels In Distress! AN EXPLOSIVE RATSIE INTERLUDE (1/3) By Libby Singleton beta read by Annie Raper Everyone used with everyone's permission. A special thanks to my co-workers who were more than happy to provide technical advice on hot tubs, natural gas, and Limburger cheese. The little eysies of the numerous ratsies made Libby a bit uncomfortable so she'd climbed into the newly discovered hot tub in her t-shirt and shorts. The whirling motion of the warm water felt good on her bad upper back, so she sank deep within the still filling tub. Fortunately, Nunkies Anonymous had put their Nunkies Fantasy Manual in a water proof bag before taping it to her tummy. "It's not fair," she muttered as much to the rats as to herself. "Everyone else is gettin' ta inter-act wit' their alt-ter-na-tuvie La-Crows an' Nickies an' such while mine goes off an' starts smoochin' every lady but me lookin' fer 'is Natsie." The rats chattered in what could only be described as sympathy. "An' ol' Johnsie hid this 'ere lil' bit o' luxury from 'is own second-in-command o' the Ratsiepack. Wouldn't 'ave dish-covered it iffen I ain't been tryin' to find his stashes o' shiny pretty thingees in our wall 'ide- a-way - just to make sure they wuz safe in 'is absence, mind ya." The rats chattered their understanding, or perhaps they were trying to convey the fact this was not technically in the wall, but rather in an attic crawlspace. Whatever the case, it still sounded like understanding. "Share an' share alike is the Ratpack way - whether the other person likes it or not, ay?" The rats chattered their agreement. ******** Grand High Poohbah Dianne entered her private bath with big fluffy towels in hand. Above her, she could hear occasional noises. No doubt a couple of rats had managed to by-pass the soundproofing and were scurrying about. Or perhaps the air conditioning, rare in Toronto but installed in Merc Central, was on the blink. There was a strangely mechanical hum to the sound. "Oh, well, let's worry about it *after* the nice hot soak," she said to herself. This was the first quiet moment she'd had since the war started and she refused to let herself get bothered by anything until she was ready. Turning on the faucet, there was a "whoosh" of air before any water emerged. Then instead of the rush of warmth Dianne expected, a mere stream of only luke warm water came out. "Sara!" she shouted, calling for the housemommy. "Sara! Come here... *now*!" ***** Libby was still reclining and pouting while allowing the tub to fill even higher when Screed scurried into the room, now carrying several plastic grocery sacks. "So, you finally decidin' to come beggin' back fer 'elp ta find ya Natsie, ay?" Screed's smile of 'hello' faded. "Well, tha's a fine 'ow-do-ya-do fer ol' Screedy. Ain't like yar me Aunt Judy or not'ing." He scooped up a rat and began draining it, snarling loudly. "Wot do ya ex-pect? I told ya I'd 'elp ya look, but I got re-spons-i-bilities wit' Johnsie out o' town. Wheneve' I got a spare minute, yar gone bye-bye, slurpin' all the wimmin...." "An' gettin' knocked up 'side the 'ead a time o' two," Screed admitted. "Natsies always sayin' I jest need ta learn ta think thingees out sum...." "Ya've got blood on ya face." Screed wiped his mouth on his sleeve. "So's I did start thinkin' an' decided I ain't gonna find 'er on me own. I could use yar 'elp, I could. Some o' them im-posterior Natsies pop a mean right 'and." Still holding the now limp rat, he reached back and rubbed his head to emphasis the point. "Wellllll.... okay," Libby said, secretly delighted. "But we'll 'ave ta watch out for them N&Npackers. They're a mean lot, they.... Wait a sec, do I smell natural gas? This is a gas 'eater hooked up ta this tub...." "Nyah," Screed said. "Must be the cheese I scrounged in the 'fridge. These ratsies look a might scrawny-like ta me." Libby sat up worriedly. "Ya took somethin' from the 'fridge wit'out askin'? Last time Johnsie did tha' they made 'im clean the thing out an' it weren't pleasant." She shuddered at the memory of what was found growing in some of the containers. "It's Limburger...." She sighed, relaxing. "Won't be missed. Say, wanna join me? Iffen we're gonna be workin' ta'gether, we needa bond an' there ain't no better place than a 'ot tub, ay?" Screed sat his bags down on the floor, except for the one with the cheese. "Better put this 'ere un over 'ere til I kin divide it up proper fer the squeakers." Smacking his lips, he sat the cheese on the hot tub's heater. Cont'd in part 2.... Libby **Never try to teach a Ratpacker manners, it just wastes your time and annoys the Ratpacker** ****************************************************** AN EXPLOSIVE RATSIE INTERLUDE (2/3) by Libby Singleton beta read by Annie Raper Everyone used with everyone's permission. "All I can figure out is there must be a leak somewhere so the water pressure's low," Sara explained to Dianne. They were both in the bathroom trying to coax more water from the tub's faucet. "Then call Nunkies Anonymous and see if we can't borrow LaCroix the plumber. Surely they can dream one up," Dianne said. "Why not Nickie the plumber?" Dianne grinned, "Or Tracy Vetter the plumber who is following in her plumber father's footsteps...." The grin faded as Dianne sniffed the air. "What in the world is that smell???" "Actually, it rather smells like Limburger cheese coming through the air vent," Sara said, wrinkling her nose. "Smells like a *Ratpacker* to me," Dianne huffed. ***** While Libby was watching Screed undo his pants with anticipation, the room was suddenly thrust into darkness when the single, overhead lightbulb blew. "Drat!" she spat, reaching out to turn off the faucet. Unfortunately, she turned the wrong way and more water rushed into the now overflowing tub. "Screed! Can you see at all???" "A bit," he said. "I got a' lighter somewheres in me pocket. 'Andy as duct tape, they are...." ***** Sara held her hand up and looked up at the ceiling. "I think I found the leak." Dianne frowned at the growing water spot. "We'd better cut the water off outside before we have major damage...." **** Libby leaned over the tub to feel for her backpack - partially to keep it from getting any wetter from the flood, partially because she knew she had a candle or two in it somewhere. A candlelight hot tub soak with Screed seemed just the ticket to cheer her up properly. "Nunkies Anonymous, eat your 'eart out!" she whispered. She glanced up at Screed's face silhouetted by the soft glow of his lighter. Then the world exploded into a flash of fire, heat and the sensation of falling. **** The drip, drip, drip of water from the Grand High Poohbah's bathroom ceiling was followed by a brief rush of flames. Dianne and Merc Housemommy Sara both hit the ground just as plaster began to fall. Fortunately, they were several feet away from the bathtub when the hot tub, with Libby still inside, came crashing down into it. Dianne started to dig her way out of the debris, relieved to hear Sara muttering, "I'm okay...." However, to Dianne's indignation, she found she was pinned not just by the ruin of her ceiling, but by Screed. As if that wasn't bad enough, rats and bits of roasted, rancid Limburger cheese covered everything. If Dianne didn't know better, she'd swear the rats were sitting up, staring and laughing at her. Feeling something on the top of her head, she reached up to find a glob of cheese. Overcoming her loathing, she grabbed it, flinging it with great force at the largest group of guffawing rodents. They scattered, squealing in protest. Dianne climbed to her feet, turning to glare at Libby who sat amidst large chunks of shattered porcelain. The Ratpacker's attention, however, was focused on a certain carouche. "I tol' ya I smelled natural gas!" Libby moaned from the shattered tubs. "I best go cut the gas off...." "You *will* stay here!" Dianne barked. Libby cringed back down into the rubble. "Sara, can you take care of it?" "Right away," Sara said between clinched teeth. Her hands were tightly clutched into fists. "And then we'll talk about how much this will cost! And you *will* be paying in life *and* limb!" She climbed over the mess, quickly disappearing out the remains of the door. "Stay, Screed, stay!" Dianne ordered after seeing him sneaking away. Screed raised his hands, shrugging in surrender. His expression was one of resignation. "Yes, ma'am, ain't gonna go no where's I ain't!" "I am going to change my clothes," Dianne announced. "Then I am going to meet you, *both* of you, in my office." A furry object scurried across her bare feet. "*Without* the rats. Do... I... make... myself... clear?!?" Dianne sighed as Libby, Screed, and all the rats nodded in perfect unison. "I wonder if anyone has a Joe Reese, Pest Exterminator?" Cont'd in Part 3 Libby **Never try to teach a Ratpacker manners, it just wastes your time and annoys the Ratpacker** ********************************************************** AN EXPLOSIVE RATSIE INTERLUDE (3/3) By Libby Singleton and Cousinly Merc Lisa beta read by Annie Raper Everyone used with everyone's permission. Normally, Libby would've been thrilled to huddle with Screed. These circumstances, however, could hardly be described as "normal." Both Dianne's and Sara's eyes seemed to be glowing. Both were obviously thoroughly, absolutely pissed. "...Not to mention the cost of having Dianne's quarters fumigated to get rid of that Limburger cheese smell!" Sara said, flipping through a computer printout several sheets long. "But tha' wanna *my* fault!" Libby said, pulling away from Screed. "'E's the one wot wanted to fatten up the ratsies!!!" "Bbbtttllllppppp!" the carouche raspberried, spraying both Dianne and Sara with Screedy spit. "Ain't like ya dinna tap inta the water pipin' leadin' inta the Grand 'Igh Pain-in-the-bum's...." "*Wot*... I mean, *What* did you just call me?" Dianne asked. "Nothin', 'e dinna call ya nothin'!" Libby said quickly, pinching Screed as she gave him a warning glare. "But tha's wot *you* call 'er," Screed protested. "I do *not*! I call her Grand 'Igh Pain-in-the- Rear!" Realizing what she'd let slip, Libby covered her mouth with both hands. "Uh, oh. I can't believe I said tha'." "Tha' *does* it!" Dianne shouted. "Wait," Sara interjected. "We really should give them a chance to explain - *before* we kill them. I mean there really could be a quite logical explanation as to why they were in a contraband hot tub in the crawlspace above your bedroom, tapped into your water and natural gas pipes, with several pounds of rancid Limburger cheese...." "Oh, yeah, ma'am, there is!" Libby said. Screed, tilting his head, looked at her, puzzlement showing in his wrinkled forehead. "There is???" Libby scowled, causing an expression of recognition to pass across his face. "Oh, yeah, there is, there is, yes, sir, Missies Biggsies Wiggies. There's an ex-plain-mation, there is!" "Welllll," Dianne and Sara said, both crossing their arms. "It's all John's fault!" Libby and Screed said, bobbing their heads in tandem like toy dogs on a car's dashboard. Dianne and Sara looked at each other. "It's your call," Dianne said. "You're the housemommy." Sara drew in a breath. She reached for a pencil, gripping it so tightly it snapped in two. "As much as this pains me, John *did* play a part in this by installing the hot tub without permission whether or not he's gone. Perhaps we should delay, and I *do* me *just* a delay, the punishment until he gets...." "De-lay?" Screed said hopefully. "Ya ain't gonna kill us now??? Me kind o' droogs, ya are!" "Screed, no!" Libby shouted as the carouche bounded towards Sara full of energy and joy. Moments later, Libby clung to Dianne's leg, begging forgiveness. It didn't work. Dianne merely dragged her towards the back door as Sara pushed and pulled Screed in the same direction. ***** The noise had brought Nicolas and Lisa up from the basement. Seeing what was happening, Nicolas raced out the back door screaming, "AHHHHHHH!!!! Stop it! Stop it! How could you? How could you?" Beginning to weep, Nicolas ran around the yard gathering up RatPacker trinkets. Looking at Libby, he sobbed, "You poor, poor creature. So unloved. So unwanted. So alone. So misunderstood. So ... So ..." "So messy," called one of the Merc who was helping throw things out the door. Acknowledging a hopeless cause when he sees one, Nicolas dropped to his knees in the grass, looked up towards the sky and said in his best imitation of a certain ice skater with really huge teeth, "Whhhyyyyy?? Whhhyyy?" Lisa made her way through the crowd of Mercs who were watching this event. Seeing the condition that Nicolas was in, she did the only thing she could think of. Calling out to him, she said, "Hey, Nicolas? The Love Boat is on." Nicolas' head whipped around, he looked at her with wide eyes and barely contained excitement. "Really?" he asked. "Oh, I just love that show. So much romance. So much happiness. So many couples. And men in uniform There's nothing quite as romantic as a man in uniform. You know, women just love men in uniforms. Policemen, firemen, soldiers, mechanics, they're just so romantic." Knowing that Nicolas was about to go totally sappy, Lisa pulled him to his feet and said, "If we don't hurry, you'll miss the opening credits." "Oh dear. I can't miss that song. And the ship can not sail without it's captain. Mutiny is afoot," Nicolas exclaimed and began hurrying towards the basement. "The *Love* Boat, exciting and new ..." he sang as he went. Lisa glanced around at the assembled Mercs as she followed after Nicolas. "Don't mind him," Lisa said, "he likes to make believe he's Captain Stuebing." ***** The Mercs were having great fun tossing the Ratpackers' pretty shiny thingees out of their headquarters. Wooby busied herself throwing bags of aluminum cans. Tami tested her throwing skills with Libby and John's joint "usefull thingees found by the roadside" collection. Dawn went all out, frisbee tossing three unmatched hub caps, a sack of polished empty food cans, and the Ratpackers' prize penny collection (mostly made up of slugs). "This is all *your* fault, Screedy," Libby said. "Did ya *'ave* to smooch Sara and slurp Dianne?" Libby collapsing into the paper which had once lined her comfy nest inside the wall. "Yeah I did an' it ain't me fault," Screed snorted. "But guess it ain't really im-portant like now." "At... at least Sara 'greed to let Jennifer stay 'til she showed back up. But Heathe', she's blamin' me, I could tell." Screed snorted again, this time more forcefully. "Don't worry 'bout 'er likes," he said, squatting down to rub Libby's back. "'Least now we kin look fer me Natsie. Ya'll like 'er, ya will. Jest wait." "'Ey, I ain't leavin' all me stuff out 'ere, not ta mention Johnsie's stuff. Kin ya believe 'e 'ad crazy glue 'e weren't sharin' wit me?!?" "You'll find a'nudder place," Screed said. "Jest wait n' see. Ratsiepackers don't need the Mercs! Ya'll rise abuv this, ya will!" He stood straightening to his full height. "I 'ave a dream I do, tha' one day Ratpackers won't be judged by the likes o' their faction, but... well... the juiciness o' their squeakers! A day when Cousins, an' Knighties, an' Perks, an' Ufers, an' even N&Npacke's will talk o'er episodes in peace, all workin' togethe' to Kickstart the Knight, they will." "Ya're right, Screedy-poo!" Libby said leaping to her feet. "The Ratpackers kin stan' on their own two... I mean four... I mean two... wotever... feet. Won't Johnsie be surprised. I'll jest tell 'im tha' I saw an oppor-tun-ity to git out on our own an' I took it, I did! 'E'll be so proud tha' 'e left me in charge." "If 'e doesn't kill ya first...." Libby shrugged. "Well, there is tha'. As soon as we kin git settled ... somewhere, let's go look fer your Natsie Watsie." Screed hugged her close, kissing her on the forehead. "Thankie, missie." Libby blinked a few times. "Wot did you do?" "Ya mean this?" Screed said, repeating the soft, not a slurp, not a smooch, but a kiss. "Jest givin' a kiss to me Mary Su... I mean Libby Wibby." "I got *kissed* by *Screed*!" Libby shouted, running around with hyperactive speed. "IGOTKISSED BYSCREED IGOTKISSED BYSCREEDAN' JOHNSIEDINNA GITKISSED BYSCREED AN' IGOTTHE RATPACK KICKEDOUTO' MERC CENTRAL BUTI DON'T CARE 'CAUSE IGOTKISSED BYSCREED...." A single blood tear ran down Screed's face, "Tha's almost 'ow me Natsie reacted the first time Ol' Screed planted a smooch on 'er. 'Ow I miss 'er, I do." END Send comments to: ALibbyp@aol.com **Never try to teach a Ratpacker manners, it just wastes your time and annoys the Ratpacker** ***************************************************************** All People, Places, and Fish used with permission. War: Vaq - Three Women (and a Fishbowl) Time: follows "Gotta see a Die-Hard" and "But he's BALD!" By: Teresa and Heather (Vaqueras), and Kristine Ward (Die-Hard co-leader) ===================================================================== Kristine trudged down the road towards Vachon's Church, where the Vaqueras were staying. She was of two minds about the upcoming meeting. Mostly, she really, really wanted to get rid of these stupid fish, but to give them to another faction? Oh sure, they were annoying, and blinked at her more than any fish had a right to, but still... And now that one of them was *bald*, would they still want him? Kristine had heard what happened the _last_ time Vachon's hair had been cut. It hadn't been a pleasent experience for those involved. She sighed and continued bravely on to face her meeting with Teresa and Heather. Teresa was the first to spot Kristine. It's kind of hard to miss a woman carrying a large fishbowl. The three of them met on the corner. "Hi, I'm Kristine." "I'm Teresa, and this is Heather. Glad to meet you." The three women shook hands, and stood staring at each other for a moment. Kristine finally broke the uncomfortable silence. "I was wondering, could we go somewhere to sit down? This is really heavy, and my arm is getting tired." Heather suggested, "How about the Happy Souvlaki? It's close, and the food is to die for." Kristine nodded gratefully, and said, "That would be great. I wanted to go there anyway, I wanted a gyro, and I have to get some for the others." The three women (and a fishbowl) walked down the road to the Deli. It was a comfortable, cozy looking place, with heavenly smells emanating from it. They found a booth, and sat down. Kristine plopped the bowl down on the table, and went up to give her order. Teresa and Heather took the opportunity to examine the remaining fish in the large bowl. The first thing they noticed was that one of the fish had no hair, and was staying as far as possible from the others. "Oh, the poor little thing. Teresa, what do you suppose happened to it?" "I don't know, but I don't like the way the others are looking at it. The little darlings might have no problem killing one that looks as different as that one. I'll go ask if I can borrow a glass or something to put it in. I think we should separate it from the others. At least until it grows it's hair back." Kristine looked a little uncomfortable as Teresa glared at her on her way to ask for a bottle or an old glass. When Teresa returned to the table with a clean, empty jar from the kitchen, Heather had just asked for an explanation. Kristine was a little defensive. "I was going to tell you. It must have happened while I was trying to keep an insane would-be decorator from redoing the HQ. Someone in the Die-Hards had moved the bowl so they'd be safe, and she left it in the Museum for a while. The Museum is open to the public. It would have been easy enough for *anyone* to sneak in and do it. Even someone wearing non-sensible footwear." Kristine sighed, and pushed the fish bowl across to Heather and Teresa. "Here. I'm tired of them, and they'd be better off with you guys anyway. Take good care of them." The Fish blinked sadly at Kristine. "No, I'm giving you to the Vaqueras. You'll be happy there, I promise." Teresa carefully transferred the shorn fish and some of the water into the jar. She looked at Kristine and said to the fish, "Don't worry, you're in good hands now, we'll keep you safe." Heather thanked Kristine, and picked up the fishbowl. Teresa clutched the jar holding her lone Vachon fish carefully and said, "Goodbye, call us if you want to visit them." "I have your cell phone number. I'll let you know." Stopping just inside the door, Heather turned to Kristine and asked, "By the way, what are you feeding them? "Oh, I nearly forgot," Kristine reached into her pocket. "Here are the 'Piranha Party Flakes' The two Vaqueras carried their burden carefully back to the church. They found Vachon amusing himself with one of the many guitars aound the place. Vachon peered into the container that Heather was holding, "Those are just about the strangest fish I've ever seen. Why do they have hair?" Under his breath, he added, "They're kind of cute, though." Teresa was a little surprised, "Don't you recognize them? They seem to be alternate Vachons, versions of you." "Then why does that one have a buzz cut?" Vachon was looking at the lone fish in the pickle jar. Heather replied, "We don't know. That's nothing, though. There used to be 12 of them, but the DieHard let a LaCroix penguin get too close, and it ate two." Vachon looked horrified. "We can do better than that. Let's put them in the computer room. We always have at least one responsible Vaquero in there." Teresa smiled, "I'll take care of them. I'm allergic to most pets, but I can have fish. Besides, I once kept a goldfish alive for a year and a half--surely I can keep 10 fish safe for however long this war will last." Heather looked closely at the lone fish, "Hey, I think that his hair is starting to grow back already." WAR: Vaq - Three Women (and a Fishbowl) end Teresa Floyd artconn@nbnet.nb.ca Kristine Ward kward@neosoft.com Die-Hard Co-Leader War VIII Heather penni@wave.net damia@howling.com vaquera@bigfoot.com Wonderland: Through The Looking Glass .. Er .. Chain Link Fence Part Two (a) of Two By Amythest Dragon Beta'd By Mel Moser Everyone used with permission! Time: After "Wonderland Bites and It Bites Big" Part Two and the Raven reaction post! *@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@* Natasha and Amythest ran off, away from the Ravens. "You're paranoid, Amythest. No one is going to attack the Nick and Natpack!" Amythest was about to say, "Famous last words!" When all hell broke loose. Every screen was filled with LaCroix and Nat from BMV alternating with Nick and Janette in various love scenes but most prominately Crazy Love and every speaker in the park blared an endless reel of Nat and LaCroix speaking words of love to one another. Amythest wondered absently if the Mercs that Janette had hired to do this job had gotten duplicates to make the vocal tapes or if they'd used computer editing. They were quite good. "NO!" Tasha said as she whirled around looking at every screen and speaker with wild eyed fury. "NNNNNNNNNNNIIIIIIIIIIICCCCCCCKKKKK!" The scream escaped her mouth and her eye went from blue-green to golden to red with almost no change time. Bloody saliva coated her lips and her fangs practically protruded from her mouth. "Time for this N&Npacker to quietly hide!" Amythest said as she slinked into a corner and watched the fun. Natasha started moving like a blur, smashing every screen or speaker that came within her reach with vampiric strength. At one point Amythest could have sworn she'd seen Natasha grab a speaker cord in her mouth and rip it loose like a dog with a tug-a-war toy. Amythest hoped that Natasha's scream had been an indication that she'd mentally contacted Nick. Taking stock of the situation, she made mental notes as to who was here and if she could figure out where and what the attacks were. Her gaze was drawn to the "XTreme Flyer" ride that had mysteriously stopped about 5ft down in descent. She made a mental note. Obviously some N&Npackers there. She scrunched down and wished she had a chocolate Nunkies, as it was her mind wouldn't have anything to focus on but revenge. "Go with the flow," Amythest grinned in a very cousinly manner, "That's what I always say!" Just then a bedraggled, panicked Nickma.. er.. Nickma-chan (since he was in girl form) raced by being chased by a hoard of cats. Amythest made a mental note to rescue him.. er.. her too. About fifteen minutes later, a car screeched up to the gate of the park and several familiar figures piled out. The guards at the gate were obviously no longer Mercs, because when Nick growled at them fiercely they fainted. Mel and the rest of the rescue squad barged in and Nick rushed up to Amythest, "My love, where is she?" "Off doing some 'Destruction of Private Property' I'd say," Amythest gestured to the flying figure that was doing a Irish jig on a speaker that just refused to budge from it's mooring. "Maybe you can calm her down." Nick flew off to his lady love and Amy approached the annoyed looking war leader. "Mel, this isn't my fault!" Amythest started, "And I just gate crashed. Besides Soul approved them coming.." "I don't care who approved or disapproved, let's just rescue them!" Mel sighed, "Where are they?" "Don't know, we were seperated... Though I have a feeling that at least two are on the XTreme Flyer," Amythest gestured to the stopped ride. "Alright John, Claudia.. You two are with me.. And you too Vachon," Mel pulled at her vampires arm, "I don't want you annoying Nick or Tasha by trying to claim her.." The Vachon resisted for a moment then followed. "I guess that leaves us to go after the others," Susan commented as her Nick and a barely calm Tasha landed nearby. "It must have been that -odd- Natalie and her compatriots again.. We still haven't taken revenge on them for the earlier incident!" Tasha growled. "They wouldn't be -that- dumb, Natasha", NiteRose said, "Two attacks in a row.. No way!" "That's neither here nor there anyway," Amythest said making eye contact with Susan and letting her know she -knew- who had hired the Mercs for the attack. Susan nodded to Amythest and then looked at her Nick, "Can you -hear- where they might be??" Nick nodded and listened intently, "I can hear water, and LaCroix's voice and some other voices, familiar... Labratio, Micky and Heather! They are in danger.." "Water??" Barb said. "Does the park have any water rides?" Eric asked. "Nick, can you hear anything else," Rebecca queried. Suddenly they were all very glad of Natasha's crime spree since it had cut down the noise level considerably. "Yes, something about Pirahna?" Nick added. "THE AQUARIUM!" Everyone said in unison. "I'll take that job," Susan said smiling, "Rebecca, Eric. You two are with me. Nick, if I can tear you away from Tasha, I could use you too!" The star-crossed lovers kissed passionately making the pack sigh in sympathy, their kiss broke and Nick nodded to Susan and they all took off at a dead run towards the aquarium. "Well, I guess that leaves us," Barb said as she looked from NiteRose to Amythest and Tasha. "I don't suppose you can," NiteRose asked Tasha. "Not past the sounds coming from the Aquarium," Tasha said. "Let's go, gang!" Amythest said trying to be as positive as possible. *@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@* Mel and her group were jogging towards the XTreme Flyer when they ran into a familiar figure, "Tippi, is that you?" Mel asked. She was concerned Tippi looked like ten miles of bad road. "My penguin," Tippi said as she stood then she grabbed hold of Claudia's collar, "Have you seen my penguin, LaCroix?" "No," Claudia stammered looking at Mel and John for support. John gently detached Tippi from Claudia and settled her down on the pavement. Tippi got a glazed look in her eyes and started to sing, "Where, oh, has my penguin gone? Where, oh, where can LaCroix be? With his little black wings, and his little webbed feet.. Where, oh, where can he be?" Then she got up and continued looking for her penguin. "Boy, has she got it bad.." Claudia shook her head. "Yeah, it worries me to see the Tipster in such bad shape," said Mel, "I wish we had time to help her." They started to jog in the direction of the XTreme Flyer again. "Sound like a new affiliation should be started," John laughed, "Penguins Anonymous!" They all laughed then something caught the corner of John's eye and made him stop short. The girls jogged on a bit then turned and looked at John. "What's got you?" Mel asked annoyed. "Black, white, yellow beak, yellow webbed feet," John's eyes were fixed on a penguin that for some odd reason just 'screamed' LaCroix when you looked at him. "Over there, boss!" He pointed madly looking to the women. When he looked back however the penguin LaCroix was no where to be seen. "I could have sworn I saw the penguin, LaCroix!" John mumbled to himself. "Great it's contagious," Mel looked at Claudia as if she'd start hallucinating any time. "You don't think I have it, do you?" Claudia asked. "I hope not.. Come along John!" Mel called. John got up and followed muttering that he -had- seen him and he -wasn't- hallucinating. They reached the bottom of the XTreme Flyer and Mel turned to Vachon, "Can you go up there and check things out?" "Of course, Roja," Vachon said. He flew up to see Pam and Liz. "Thank god, you're here Vachon.." Liz started. "Natasha flew by and smashed the speakers, but we decided not to ask her to rescue us.." Pam continued. "She frightened us.." Liz took over again. "Hush, my ladies.. I am here now.. We will save you.." Vachon inspected the harness. Pam and Liz were not encouraged by his ever darkening expression. "I will return as quickly as I can!" And he flew down to Mel. "These -Mercs- are very thorough.. We have two problems. First off I need something to cut the straps at the attachment point. They are glued into the harness." Vachon reported. "That I can help you with, Vachon!" John spoke up. He pulled out a jack knife and handed it to the vampire, "Spider Co 'ClipIt' with the serated edge. These things are great. Could cut through anything! Next best thing to the jaws of life!" "Thank you," Vachon bowed quickly to the other, "The other problem is more difficult. If I cut one the other will fall. It is the same harness.. Yes?" "Great," Mel shook her head, "Save one. drop the other.. We should have brought another vamp with us..." "Oh if only my horse, Padre were here.." Vachon said sighing. Just then Claudia felt velvety lips messing with her hair and turned to find herself staring at -huge- horsey fangs. "Is he a -vampire- horse?" "Why yes, how did you know?" Vachon said. "Because I've found him..." Claudia mumbled. "Padre!" Vachon ran over and greeted his missing horse with delight. He patted it soundly and over and over again on the horse's neck and spoke softly to him, as the horse responded in kind with nuzzling the Spanish vampire and stomping his feet. "I don't believe it!" Mel stared, her mouth hanging open. "We left Padre in FLORIDA. How in the-" "There are some things, " John laid a hand on Mel's shoulder, "we probably just don't wanna know." "Now we can rescue them!" Vachon smiled at the mortals, "John, if you will ride Padre and help steady the ladies as they land on his back!" John looked a little nervous as he swung up on Padre's back and they launched into the air. Pam and Liz held very still as Vachon sawed at the straps of the harness then suddenly it let loose and they were falling. Screams issued forth from their mouths as they dropped, only to land on the back of a -flying- horse and steadyied in the ready arms of John. "Isn't he just so Nick-like," Pam gushed to Liz. "I think he's more Nunkie-like," Liz said back. "OUR HERO!" They said together and kissed John on the cheek looking at him adoringly. Vachon landed and smiled at John who was lapping up the attention of the two rescued ladies. John slid off of Padre leaving the two ladies riding and began to gallantly lead the horse. "Typical," Mel mumbled. "Not even a thank you to us!" Claudia grumped. "Let's go find the others," Mel said as Vachon joined her by her side.. *@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@ Amythest Dragon (AKA Tammy Morrison) amydrag@freenet.edmonton.ab.ca Nick and Natpack Dragon Protector of Knights and Damsels in Distress! ************************************************************************* Wonderland: Through The Looking Glass .. Er .. Chain Link Fence Part Two (b) of Two By Amythest Dragon Beta'd By Mel Moser Everyone used with permission! Time: After "Wonderland Bites and It Bites Big" Part Two and the Raven reaction post! *@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@* "We have to get them out of there," Susan screamed as she peered through the small window in the door, "They'll be drowning soon." "What a way to go," Rebecca's lip curled as though she tasted something bad, "Listening to LaCroix as you die!" "They're not going to die!" Eric yelled, "You sound like Nick! Expecting the worst.. No offense intended, Nick." "None taken," he said amiably, "Before I brought Tasha across that's exactly how I would react." Meanwhile inside Labratio had noticed the other N&NPackers on the outside and swam over to the door. Mickey and Heather were still panicking about the pirahna but he knew that they weren't in here. If there had been pirahna in the water they were swimming in they'd be dead already. Labratio mouthed to the other's outside, "Stop talking and get on with it!" He'd have said it aloud but that would have just increased the frequency of the screams from his female companions. As it was his nerves were pretty shot and they -were- in danger of drowning. "Lab's right, guys!" Rebecca said, "Enough chatter! Nick get em out!" Nick nodded and started -pushing- on the doors.. "Not -in- you brick! Pull them.. Let the water pressure do some of your work for you!" Eric started yanking on the door handles. Then Rebecca and Susan joined him. Nick took the other door, sounds of welds breaking and sealant tearing free echoed around them and with a -whoosh- both the members of the rescue team and the rescued Nick and Natpackers were outside and safe, though wet. Heather and Mickey both gave Nick and Eric a huge kiss and Nick thanked his lucky stars that Natasha wasn't around while Labratio got his stuffing hugged out by Susan, and Rebecca. "Geez, if this is the reception I get after being attacked. Let it happen every day!" Suddenly he was being splashed with yucky water from all sides. Then they all broke down laughing. "Okay gang, let's head for the gate..." Susan said as they walked arm and arm towards the entrance. LaCroix's voice still echoing out of the aquarium as they started to sing... "We're off to see the wizard, the wonderful wizard of..." They started to skip. *@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@* "Any sound of them yet?" Barb asked Tasha. They had just passed Bonnie who was still outside of the candie shop salivating over chocolate Nunkies. NiteRose and Amythest sympathized. "Yeah, I think so.. Nunkies, Cousin Cj.. Bra autographed by .. SCHANKE???" Natasha looked a little green. "That's them.. Let's go!" They all hollered and took off after Tasha only to run into Spifff, Johan, Charles and Rebecca. "Did someone take Schank's name in vain?" Spifff asked. "NO, but I'm gonna take you in -vein- if you catch my meaning.." Tasha started advancing on the FODS. "Tasha, BACK OFF!" Barb yelled using the same tone she had on the two Nicks earlier. Tasha backed down but still glared angrily at the hawaiian shirt clad faction, "Sorry she's just a little touchy right now!" "Yeah," NiteRose added, "She's not a Valentine!" "Yeah, but you guys are gate crashers!" Johan said angrily. "It's WAR, guys." Barb said, "And besides we've been attacked.." "Attacked?? That's different.. LATER.." The FODS took off at a run. "THEY HAD SOMETHING TO DO WITH IT..." Tasha started to take off after the FODS. "No they didn't," NiteRose said, a little annoyed with their time bomb vampire, "They just don't want to be near us. In case of fall out, you know.." "Oh.." Tasha said. Then the rescue team looked at each other and realized they'd better get moving before the fall out hit them. They continued running until they found a shed in the maintenance area of the park where a heated arguement about bras, Schanke, Cousins and flyers was going on. Tasha looked at the rescue crew who nodded at her. She set her hands on the doors and pulled hard, ripping them off their hinges. "Anybody home? We're looking for Nick and Natpackers.." Barb said with a smile, "Sorry only a NA, a Cousin and a closet FOD in here, not the girls we're looking for.." Groans of anguish came from the occupants of the shed. It was hard to decide whether it was because of being tied into chairs for that long or if it was because they'd been found out. "Come now, children," Amythest's voice took on a LaCroix-like tone, "Why hide your true natures from us?" NiteRose and Amythest smiled at one another. "The Nick and Natpack accept all as long as they hold true to the belief that Nick and Nat should be together forever!" "But.. but.." Lisa said, "It's too embarrassing." "We'll promise to keep it a secret.." Amythest said, "Won't we girls?" Barb, Tasha and NiteRose nodded. Casey and Cj knowing Amythest to well could hear the next line coming, "But it'll cost you!" The three rescued Nick and Natpack began to negotiate with the others as they walked. By the time they'd made it back to the main gate and the others they'd rescued had been saddled with cleaning duties and other various and sundry tasks for the rest of the war. "With friends like them, who needs LaCroix," Lisa mumbled as they piled into the car with Mel and the rest of the rescue squad. Natasha and Amythest got on her bike, Vachon mounted Padre with Pam and Liz. Finally Casey, Cj, Heather, Labratio and Mickey got into the car they came in as Nickma-chan came crashing out of the gates a pride of cats chasing him. "I knew I forgot someone," Casey giggled they opened the door and let him pile in. They shut the door just in time to block the pursuing cats and tore out of the lot towards the theatre! *@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@* Amythest Dragon (AKA Tammy Morrison) amydrag@freenet.edmonton.ab.ca Nick and Natpack Dragon Protector Of Knights and Damsels in Distress! ************************************************************************ Revenge Is A Dish Best Served With Baklava! By Amythest Dragon Beta'd By Cj & Nightlady & Rebecca Input from Bonnie Rutledge Time: After "Like Sweetness From Heaven", "After The Kataclysm",, & "The More the Merrier" and after the N&Npackers are rescued from the dastardly plot in the Amusement Park on Friday Night! Who: Heather M., Casey, Marie, NiteRose, Soulseeker, Shele, Heather, Jan, Susan, Kim, Sharon, Natasha, Soul's LaCroix, Bonnie's NSVV Natalie, Susan B.'s Nick and Sir Mulder's LaCroix! Everyone is used with permission. *@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@* "They have to pay," Heather M. commented. "Like you said, 'Aardvark spit'," Casey commented. "It's kinda cute though," Marie shrugged. "Yeah, but the banner about Nat and LaCroix," NiteRose shook her head, "It's just way too much." "Unless you have Valentine tendencies," Amythest smirked, "Which I do!" "It's an OUTRAGE!" 'Tasha stormed up to the five girls as they stood outside the theatre. She was still a little sensitive after the Park incident and had decided to take offence at the banner that had been up for days, "Nat and LACROIX! I don't think so... I bet it was that -odd- Natalie I met earlier. The one in the sandals!" NiteRose and Amythest sighed, Natasha wanted to blame everything on the -odd- Natalie, but this time she was right. "Sandals??" Heather looked at the others. "Oh, didn't I tell you?" Marie looked a little red. "No, what didn't you tell us Marie?" The three of the addicts asked in unison. "She had a drool cup in her pocket.." Marie admitted. "And she was on her way to somewhere called the 'Baubled Nectarine' or something like that," 'Tasha added. "That's Jeweled Peach," the addicts corrected, "Amythest, why are you so silent?" "Probably 'cause I'm in the same boat as Marie.. I saw her too and didn't think to mention it," Amythest shrugged. "That's okay Amy," Casey said, "You've been busy tormenting so many other factions, probably slipped your mind." "Isn't she just so Uncle-like?" NiteRose commented. "Don't 'kay... If you keep saying things like that Uncle might think I'm competition and," Amythest drew a finger across her throat. "But what a way to go," the other addicts shivered in anticipation. Natasha turned up her nose as though she smelled something bad. "But I don't -want- to die, guys. Unless it's the non-permanent type that has you ending up on an all liquid diet," Amythest reminded the others. They all nodded agreeably. "So what are we going to do?" Casey asked. "Wait," Marie said, "she got really upset when she saw the locket. That gives me an idea!" The young addict pulled everyone down into a huddle. *@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@* Soon Soul's LaCroix had been hijacked, briefed and driven to just outside the Peach by the five addicts. "Do you have any questions?" Casey asked their LaCroix. During the entire trip, the people in the car had been in a perpetual state of near meltdown and tax-forms and V-8 had been passed back and forth furiously. "Let me just go over this again," LaCroix seemed a little reluctant, "The perpetrator of this 'attack' is a Natalie who is in love with me." "Well she's in love or at least in lust with a LaCroix from her universe," Heather corrected from the driver's seat. "And I am supposed to lure her out to dinner with me. Get her so drunk she passes out," LaCroix continued. "Or use this drug in her wine.." Marie handed him a small vial, "It worked in 'Be My Valentine'." "Yes," LaCroix said distastefully, "So I have seen." He sighed heavily. "What's the problem?" NiteRose asked, a little concerned at seeing Nunkies so upset. "I just dislike being part of a plot to decieve Natalie," LaCroix said with a sigh. "Get over it, Lucien. Better you than us using BMV LaCroix, he'd just end up sucking her dry like a little tetra-pack!" Amythest reminded him, "We're doing this, like it or not. Now you can do it, or we can go back and get a different LaCroix and then it's a crap shoot for poor little Not-So-Vestal-Virgin Natalie!" "Very well," LaCroix hissed at Amythest, "I can see why -Natasha- has taken so well to -you!-" "Stay in character!" Amythest growled back at him. LaCroix exited the car and was waiting outside for the others. "Amy, how could you speak to Nunkies that way?" The other addicts asked astounded. They had thought Amythest was too 'Uncle-like' before, but now.... "I wouldn't speak to Nunkies -that- way. I value my throat. However he's," she gestured to the LaCroix standing outside the car, "not Nunkies. Just think of him as 'Nick in LaCroix's clothing' and you'll do okay!" The others shivered, some in appreciation and some in horror of the thought that Amythest had implanted in their brains. Then they all exited and walked LaCroix, once again in his black suit from the blood raid, to the entrance of the Peach. They glided into the main room of the restaurant, not having to fake near Nunklear meltdown. Whatever his personality was, the look was still Nunkies. "Cabon," LaCroix called. "Monsieur LaCroix," Cabon instantly went into toadying mode, "How very nice to see you. May I help you with something?" "Not now, Cabon," LaCroix said curtly, "I wish to speak with Natalie." "That hari---", Cabon thought better of his words as the icy chill of LaCroix's glare hit him full, "The young woman who asked me to take the helicopter out?" LaCroix nodded, "She is in the private dining room, sir." "Very good," LaCroix marched into the dining room with the five NA members in tow, "You are not to come in, understood?" "Very well, sir." Cabon agreed dejectedly as LaCroix slammed the huge double door shut. "I don't like doing this," Heather said nervously, "Even -he's- not supposed to know about the Shrine." "I know but at least it's not like we brought any non-NA Nick and Natpackers. That'd get us kicked out for sure." Marie looked quite nervous too. "Shush," Casey said, "Your plan's a good one, Marie. How are we supposed to say no to LaCroix? Just remember that, it's our way out!" Amythest nodded and the addicts walked through the open entrance into the Shrine. They all clucked their tongues disapprovingly. The NSVV were acting like Vaqueros.. Slacking! *@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@* "More are coming home to roost," Kim called out as she heard footsteps entering the shrine. The rest of the addicts in residence came into the main hall to see who was coming in. They started giggling madly as the Nick and Natpack NA members trudged in. "Get tired of living in 'Candyland', girls?" Jan asked. "Little -too sappy- sweet for you maybe.." Susan smirked. The Nick and Natpack members looked at them and scowled. "I told you, aardvark spit!" Heather M. grumbled. "So, why are you here ladies?" NSVV Natalie asked suspiciously of the newcomers. It was obvious they were against her and Lucien, because they wanted him for themselves, and as such supported the ridiculous pairing of her and that -Nick- person. "Well to tell you the truth, Natalie. We brought you a visitor.." NiteRose said with a forlorn tone in her voice. "He was very impressed with your attack on the Nick and Natpack, and demanded we take him to you," Marie put in. "You know NO ONE from OUTSIDE is to be shown the shrine," Heather said, conveniently forgetting the Penguin and the WereVachon who'd visited already. "You might as well hand in your cups, now. Anniebug will be very put out!" "Are you going to say -No- to him?" Casey asked putting a little awe and fear in her voice. On cue, LaCroix stepped into the inner sanctum. "My Dears," LaCroix's voice purred. "Oh god, NUNKIES!" The other addicts in the room suffered convulsive systemic Nunklear meltdowns. The Nick and Natpack addicts faked it. (Really!) LaCroix glided up to the NSVV Natalie and pulled her gently to her feet. "I was most impressed with your initiative my dear," he said as his eyes locked with hers. "Nothing.." Natalie could barely breath, he was -touching- her, "really... the.. others.. helped.." "But it was -your- plan," he smiled at her charmingly. "I..." Natalie started but LaCroix laid a single finger over her lips. He turned her so he was pressed up against her, his front to her back and he leaned down and whispered into her ear. "The motto on your banner was truly touching." LaCroix was obviously holding Natalie up as her legs were giving way beneath her. "I wish to take you out. You will wear what you did when you came to me at Azure. Go now, prepare." Susan and Jan went with NSVV Natalie to get her ready, though jealousy shone in all their eyes. "Can we show you around?" Heather asked. "Can I get you something?" Sharon offered. "Would you like to sit?" Kim begged. "You are all most solicitous, Ladies," 'Nunkies' responded, "but no, I will wait for her here." The Nick and Natpack NA members went and stood beside the others. "You guys rode all the way from the theatre to here with him?" Heather asked. "Uh huh," Amythest responded. "You are so lucky," Kim gasped, fanning herself. "Talk about lucky," Shele grumbled, "Natalie's the lucky one!" "He's so stoic," Sharon mumbled as she gazed at LaCroix appreciatively. "He's so handsome," Heather added. "Those eyes," Shele groaned. "Those hands," Kim gasped again. The Nick and Natpack NA members pretended to (Really, we were just faking!) have a meltdown while nearly giggling themselves silly about the constant verbal tribute to LaCroix going on in front of them. Even if LaCroix had been the real 'Nunkies' it would have been funny since he'd have been able to hear everything they said. Talk about willing prey. Then NSVV Natalie came out in the requested outfit and LaCroix took her by the arm leading her out of the sanctuary and into the private dining hall. The others in the shrine expected him to stop there but he continued leading her out of the restaurant. Cabon was heard asking, "But Monsuier LaCroix, will you not be dining here?" "No, too many observers," LaCroix responded curtly. Whimpers of disappointment came from Cabon and Natalie's meltdown was nearly audible. "Well, how do you like that?" Shele asked the other addicts present. "Not only does he favour her with an outing but he takes her somewhere -private!-" "One of the advantages of being a FK character, I suppose. All we get to do is fantasize, they get to .. well .. you know!" Amythest winked and nudged Casey, who in turn winked and nudged back. "You don't think.." Heather said looking out the way they came. Then all the non-Nick and Natpack addicts took a run at the Sacred Cold Pond and dove in. "So what do we do now?" Heather M. asked as she watched the others frolicking in the pond. "I don't know about you guys, but there'll be at least an hour before 'Nunkies' gets Natalie back to the theatre. Anyone care for a sauna?" NiteRose smiled. "Sounds like a plan," and the five co-conspirators moved to the sauna room. *@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@* As LaCroix flew the unconscious Natalie back to the theatre he had pangs of guilt. She had been so delightful, so responsive, so -in love- with him. Now he was betraying her. "Better me to betray you, Cherie, than to have that Amythest person feed you to a less scrupulous version of myself." He looked down at her limp form cradled in his arms and shook his head. No matter what, he would not carry out the last part of the 'plan'. He was certain that that hellion, Natasha, had something to do with it . She had been so trusting when he had handed her the glass of dessert wine laced with the drug. It had barely been necessary, as she had consumed far to much wine during the meal. So much so, that when her Baklava had come for dessert, she had made some sort of cryptic comment about being his 'wine and honey' girl. LaCroix could only imagine and guessed that she had heard what his monsterous son had done years ago. Why she would expect that of him though he couldn't understand. He landed at the theatre and handed poor Natalie's helpless body over to the waiting Nick and Natpackers. Once again he extracted the promise from Amythest that no physical harm would be done her and then he told them in no uncertain terms that he would have nothing further to do with this plan. The others started to protest but Amythest silenced them, telling them for the last part they could borrow one of the other LaCroixs. LaCroix slunk into the theatre his guilt nearly eating him whole, and, from the balcony of the theatre, he could swear he saw Natasha standing laughing at him. *@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@* NSVV Natalie awoke in a soft fluffy bed, under a down comforter, with a familiar voice reading to her. She was feeling slightly nauseous and a nagging sensation 'indicated' to her that the voice was wrong somehow. "Come with me and be my love.." The voice started with another sonnet. Natalie got up and dashed to the bathroom where she was promptly ill. Then she noticed the glittering gold band on her ring finger. Her mind told her that she had been out with Lucien last night and that could only mean. She ran back into the bedroom to find .. NICK KNIGHT. He was sitting on the bed with a book of love poetry in his hands in black silk pajamas. "What's the matter, my beloved wife," he asked. "Did last night's festivities get to you? I must admit our wedding was rather sudden.." "no.. No.. NO...." NSVV Natalie screamed and ran frantically from the bedroom. As she exited the bedroom, dozens of Nick and Natpackers came out and threw rice at her. From somewhere the wedding march started to play. She had to get out of here, had to get away, Lucien would never forgive her, never. Then -he- stepped out blocking the exit into the street. "Natalie, my dearest daughter-in-law. Welcome to the family," LaCroix said. "But, BUT.." Natalie looked at him crushed. "The better man won my dear, I can live with that," LaCroix's smooth voice said the terrible words, "You have my blessing." "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!" NSVV Natalie cried as she pushed past LaCroix and ran blindly into the street. "That worked well," Soulseeker smiled, "Good work, team!" The NA members recieved pats on the back. "Thanks for loaning us your LaCroix, Sir Mulder!" Amythest said, "Soul's LaCroix wouldn't do the last bit in the doorway." "One last thing to do," Heather M. said as she walked to a nearby phone and dialled a certain number, "Cabon, it's Heather.. No, Heather M.! I have a message for the others. Natalie's on her way back to them,and she's had a rather bad shock. Let that be a lesson to them. Don't mess with the Nick and Natpack!" With that, wild hoots and cheers went up from all over the room, save for one lone person. As the party went on, Soul's LaCroix went to the phone and dialled a number. "Yes, I'd like a dozen red roses to this address," he gave the address to the Peach, "and one of those audio cards. ASAP. Thank you." He gave a credit card number, then hung up and dialled another number. "Natalie, I am so sorry. -Lucien." He spoke to the voice recorder on the other end. She'd never forgive him but it was all he could do. *@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@* Amythest Dragon (AKA Tammy Morrison) amydrag@freenet.edmonton.ab.ca Nick and Natpack Dragon Protector of Knights and Damsels in Distress! *************************************************************************