("As The Stomach Churns" subconsciously stolen from _The Carol Burnett Show_) NA: Some Girls by Shele; Beta Reading by The High Priestess Time: Wednesday 4/29 11pm Place: The Shrine After: "N" is for Nunkies?; Laurie and the Evil Cocoa-A-Go-Go; This Will Hurt You More Than It Hurts Us All Addicts used by permission After debriefing the Ares look alike, Ted, Shele mulled over what had happened while she'd been documenting the Poobah-napping. They'd been attacked by the Nick and NatPackers. Three Addicts had been lured away, questioned and even threatened! Now where were N&Ners likely to happen upon ultra-militant feminists? Sure, sure, the NatPack had them, but would they be caught dead with Nick?! So the threat had been wildly impossible, but that wasn't the point. They'd been attacked and it was now time for revenge. But what kind of revenge? Shele looked to the pictures on her wall for guidance. Ash--What would her chainsaw-armed hero do? Nothing. Okay, so maybe he wasn't the best one to emulate! But Ares... Kronos... Methos... Krycek... LaCroix... Their piercing eyes all hinted at malicious delights! She sighed. The acting out of which would surely get her banished from this and all subsequent wars, if not FK fandom itself. Fingers dancing over her cups of pens, she searched for the perfect vengeance writing implement. Rejecting one after another, as their ink radiated death and dismemberment, she tried to envision the timbre of this soon-to-be meted justice. Something less bloody then, something less permanent. But, in this ever changing world, was anything *truly* permanent? Convulsing in a fit of giggles, her fingers clasped the black Bad Badtz-Maru gel pen--Perfect. "Hey, I feel kinda funny just sitting around like this. Can I put them back on now?" Ted gestured at his underwear which hung from the edge of her bookcase. "Huh? What do you want?" Shele followed his gaze. "No. You're fine just the way you are. Maybe I'll brief you after we've had our way with some N&Ners..... Maybe. You know, you're really cute when you pout!" ***** Design in hand, Shele giddily skipped out of her alcove. This would do it. This would set the world to rights--or least give NA a good laugh! Trawling the halls for Addicts, she gave out a hearty guffaw at the scene her plan would produce. Well, it wasn't so much of a 'hearty guffaw' as a 'delirious cackle' but it was the best she could do. Coming upon a small gathering of Addicts, she tried to catch their attention. "All right, listen up you guys! I need volunteers to carry out a plot of most devious design. There will be pain, torture and tears, but those are nothing to what we'll be dishing out! Who's with me? Who seeks to punish those foolish enough to prey on the weakness of the Nunkies addicted?" There was no response. Since the Video room was still being used for Poobah torturing, a TV and VCR had been set up in the hall and credits were just starting to roll on the screen. They were in a post-Nunkular daze then, a feeling the non-Addict might get when their roller coaster car came to rest at the end of the ride. She scanned the names. But no coaster in the world could match the ride of Father's Day. She sighed. Even with Nunkies sporting those hideously orange 'Judge Doom' eyes, it was still her favorite episode. Lost in her memories, she started when white noise filled the screen, but quickly resumed her plea. "You'll get a badge for 'Cruel and Unusual Taunting'." Hands shot up--a stupor was one thing, but a badge? Every badge an Addict earned showed Nunkies, and the world, the depth of their commitment! "KC and Beth, you're willing to risk everything for the cause? Good! Debbie, what about you? Rested up from our adventure yet? I see. Next time perhaps." Culling her team from the brave and selfless Addicts, she directed them further down the hallway and passed each a list of items. "Pack your gear. We'll rendezvous at Dispatch at 2330!" Having assumed her at home persona of Commandant, Shele strode out the hall, crepe soles moving her soundlessly across the marbled floor. "Uh, did that look or *sound* like someone who would write silly limericks or come up with Forever LaCroix: The Legendary Journeys?" She didn't know her Mission Leader that well, but Beth thought she knew her *that* much. "Yeah, but have you seen The Alcove? Skulls, bats, _and_ glow-in-the-dark everything *and* _piles_ of sparkly stuff. I'd call her a Rat-packer if I didn't know better!" Their acquaintance spanned too many lists--KC knew all too well the strange quirks exhibited by Shele. "'The Three Faces of Shele'!" They both collapsed into a fit of giggles. "I just wanted to," Shele paused and momentarily looked at the ground in front of her, before returning her gaze to the team, "*stress* the importance of being prepared and on time. Please, continue your chatting." A flurry and a scramble, and the hallway was clear. <'Cruel and Unusual Taunting,' indeed.> She allowed herself a small smile before going to gather her own supplies. ***** 23:30 Dispatch (The Shrine) "Eww! Are you sure that's right? It smells like wet hay!" "Hold still! I'm almost done and you don't want to ruin it, do you? HOLD STILL!!!! Ok, got it! Where's a mirror?" "Aaaaaiiiiieeeee!!!! What have you done?!?!" A mixture of giggles and sniffles greeted Shele as she entered the garag-- Dispatch. Not the most encouraging sound for a Mission Leader to hear *before* the mission even started. Coming around to where the chariots were kept, she could see the problem. "Kissing Cousin Susan Nix!! What have you done?!" Well, it was quite obvious what had been done. Beth had almost stopped crying, but she couldn't stop staring at her arm in the mirror. "I got here early and I got an idea and then when Beth showed up, I asked if I could practice on her and she said 'yes' and so I did!" "But what have you drawn? And on a fellow Addict, much less!" Shele tried to contain her laughter, the scene was too comical. Beth's tear stained face, mirror clutched by white knuckled hands. KC proudly surveying her handiwork, her own face stained by the tools of her artistry. "Duh! It's LaCroix as Calvin and Schanke as Hobbes!" Her faced beamed as she described her masterpiece. Beth screamed anew, but cried no more--instead her face became set as she stared the woman who had defiled her arm. "Youyouyouyou Joxer-lover!!" Beth got up from the chariot and started to leave. "Hold on, Beth. I know you're upset, but you already agreed to help with the N&Ners. You can plot your revenge on KC *after* we return." Beth looked at her Leader. It was true. She *had* agreed to this mission and she'd been looking forward to getting out and causing some trouble in this War--she certainly wasn't going to let that darn KC ruin it for her! "Fine. Fine. Fine. Let's just go then." Beth loaded her stuff into the chariot and climbed into the driver's seat of the Beetle. "Hey! That's my se--" "KC--Beth is going to drive us this mission--*you* can ride in the chariot." Shele's voice was low and did not invite argument. KC lower lip began to quiver as she stowed her gear then climbed into the chariot herself. Shele sighed and climbed into the passenger seat. Continued in Part Two: Tattoo You Tattoo You by Shele; Beta Reading by The High Priestess Time: Thursday, 4/30 from 12:00am - 1:00am Directly after: Some Girls Starring: KC Susan, Beth, Shele as Addicts and Marci, Cheryl, Deana, Jeanine as N&Ners KC's Field Report: 12:00am Thursday Our chariot is parked in an alley betwixt the N&Ners' theatre and the All-Nite-Grab-N-Run. t last, our prey has ventured outside of its lair. Hearing the unnatural call of wild treacle, a few N&Ners are braving the night air for a sugar run. Only on this night, they were in for a slight detour. What's this? A bit of trash is littering the sidewalk! Dutiful citizens that they are, one of our friends picks up the paper and makes to throw it away, but a word catches her eyes... It can't be!... What is this doing here? She looks around, then focuses back on the writing she'd seen. Her companions draw to her side, puzzled at her behavior. Having come to the of the page, she drops the paper and sets off in search of its successor. Has she forgotten her vow to keep the earth green? No! Her sisters, having caught sight of a prized word here or there, have grabbed the paper before it touched the ground! Reading faster and faster, they find a trail of delightful described images. Finally, they are led down a nearby alley. What fate awaits them there? Indeed, what Cruel and Unus- "KC--SHHH! They'll hear you!!" "Oh, *please*! Trust me, Beth, as long as we feed them a steady supply of N&Ner smut, they'll be oblivious to the world around them." Sure enough--the N&Ners didn't even look up as they climbed into the tent erected in front of the chariot. Beth divested their 'guests' of their coats and rolled up their sleeves, then KC led them to folding chairs and set huge stacks of papers in front of each one. Shele opened a thermos and poured its contents into small paper cups, one for Beth, one for KC and one for herself. Reaching into KC's bag for the red pens, Shele was a bit surprised to not find any. "KC! What are these? Where are the red pens you were responsible for bringing?" "Oh, I couldn't find any red pens, so I brought those instead. They'll work, won't they?" KC shrugged . "Where, Miss KC, did you *look* for the red pens? I believe the list I gave you specifically told you the red pens where in the top drawer of my desk in the Library. Were they not there? Was there an empty space in the drawer? *Where* are my red pens?!?!?" Shele took a deep breath. She would not lose control of the situation. "You were playing with that Joxer look-alike weren't you? I bet you never even *went* to the Library, did you?" "These are permanent markers, too--and look! They're scented! The purple one smells like grape, and the blue one smells like blueberry! The brown one smells like chocolate!" As she named them, KC uncapped each of the pens and held them up to her nose to get a good whiff. Beth started giggling. "Oh good, you're not mad anymore about the tattoo I gave you! I'll color it in when we get back to the Shrine!" When Shele started laughing, too, KC got a little worried. It didn't look like they were laughing with her, but *at* her. She grabbed Beth's mirror. "ACK!! What's on my face? What happened to me?" "What's *not* on your face?" Beth smugly asked. Spotted with stray bits of henna from her practice session with Beth, KC's face was set off by a striped, multi-color nose. KC grabbed a tissue and madly rubbed it against her nose. Now her nose was striped and red. Not much of an improvement. "You're right, KC. Those pens *do* seem permanent enough for this job. We better get moving if we're gonna get them all done before they run out of N&Ner smut." Shele was still snickering a bit as she moved around the N&Ners. "Let's see who we've got here.... Cheryl -- Beth, why don't you start on her? Trace the design on her forearm as best you can. And KC, you can work on Marci here. I'll take Jeanine and we'll all take turns on Deana." The Addicts finally got down to business and the tent became quiet, save the sound of pages turning and the various sighs and sharp breaths drawn by the N&Ners as the read through the stories. "Thank Joxer the Nick & NatPacker are so prolific in their smut writing!" Beth and Shele looked up at KC and burst out giggling again. "Stop laughing at my face! I'm going to wash it as soon we get back!" Shele's giggles became out and out laughter. "KC, if washing removes it, we might as well stop drawing on them right now!" "Wah!!!!!" While the henna dried, they started coloring in the designs, doing their best not to smudge the still wet bits. With only a story and a half to spare, the tattoos were finally complete! The three Addicts made a Polaroid One- Step tour for prosperity and re-coated the Tattooed Love Girls. "KC, grab the rest of the stories and lead our friends back down the alley! Beth, where's the cooler? Take that stuff down the alley, too!" Shele made a mad rush to pack everything back up. "These we don't need. These we need. They can *have* these... KC! Help me with the tent! Beth, grab the chairs and trays! Let's Go! Let's Go!" As Deana came to the end of her last story, she sighed and gazed off into the night. Hearing a noise behind her, she turned to see the end of something dragging something else. "Sigh!" "Wow! I need sugar *bad*!!" Jeanine turned her last page over. Deana looked at her, "Didn't we come out to *get* sugar?" "What's in that bag by Cheryl's feet? What does it say on its side? Cheryl, earth to Cheryl!" "Wha...? Ooh, don't you just love a good love story?" Cheryl stooped down to pick up the bag. "Oh, yeah! A good and smutty love story!!" Marci giggled. Cheryl looked in the bag, "It says it's from The Jeweled Peach and it... it *looks* like it's filled with take-out boxes of tiramisu!" ***** After parking the Beetle and unpacking the Chariot, KC, Beth and Shele sat down to admire their photo tour: a big blue heart, a big green heart, a big brown heart and a big blue-green-and-brown heart. Each had a banner across it proclaiming, "Lucien and Natalie - Forever." As one, their voices filled the garage and drifted into the Shrine itself. "Mwahahahahahaha...." Finis NA: Nick & Nat Forever? Starring: Debbie, Sherry, Kristine & Shele by permission, Jason I made up. Time: Early Thursday after "Laurie and the Cocoa a Go Go" & "This will Hurt Us More than It Hurts You." Place: A Toronto sidewalk & a sidewalk cafe ********* Debbie slipped out of the Shrine early that morning, leaving the others who were taking turns torturing the Merc Grand High Poohbah. While possessed of a devious Cousinly heart, the young Addict did not feel up to "interrogating" the Poohbah. Rather, she sensed that something was wrong and that she had overlooed something in all the excitement. What was it? she thought as she pulled a Nunkies Pop from her back pack and gaze at in longingly before taking a tentative lick. If only it were the real thing and not just a candy. Sighing deeply, she began to walk down the sidewalk, enjoying the fresh morning. Her mind wandered back to Sherry as she thought about the excitement of the last few days. She longed to tell her friend about the journey into the Ratpacker tunnels. What fun it had been! Sherry! That's what was missing! She hadn't seen Sherry sice before the meeting at CERK on Monday night. Debbie thought as she rounded the corner. Much to her surprise, Sherry and Kristine almost ran spack into her when they tried to round the same corner. They were each carrying an arm load of shopping bags and were giggling like twittery school girls. Which was odd, since Sherry *wasn't* a twittery school girl. "Sherry? Kristine?" Debbie exclaimed quizzically. The two women stopped twittering and stared at her. "Debbie!" "Hey!" Sherry threw her arms wide to hug her friend and it was then that Debbie noticed the the T-shirts. they read, the lettering surrounded by a big, mushy heart. Both Sherry and ristine were wearing them. "*Nick* and *Nat* *Forever*!?" Debbie could barely choke out the words. "What's *that* supposed to mean?" The other two Addicts stared at her dumbfounded. "We're Nunkies Addicts." They said in unison. "Yeah, I know. So am I, remember? What I'm saying is... since when do Nunkies Addicts were Nick & Nat T-shirts?" Her words dripped with disgust. "But,Deb... that's wht being an Addict is all about! Didn't you know that?" Sherry said with unbelieveable conviction. It was her conviction that made Debbie realize why earlier she had felt something was wrong. Something *was* wrong! Here Sherry and Kristine had been missing for days and all of a sudden, they thought being and Addict meant wanting to see Natalie with *Nick*. Debbie thought with a shudder. It was up to her to find out what had happened to her friends. "You know... I must have skipped over that part in the Nunkies Scout Handbook. Why don't you refresh my memory." So saying, she led the two Addicts off to discover what they knew. ******** They walked until they found a quaint little cafe and decied it was time to take a load off. A waitor came over to them. "Good morning, ladies!" he beamed brightly. "I'm Jason, and I will be your waitor for today." Jason handed them each a menu and left them to decide, promising to be back right away. Kristine and Debbie both paused to check out his back side before turning to their menus. "You know, I do believe he's better looking than you husband, Debbie," Kristine commented, remembering the pictures Debbie had shared earlier, before the War had started. "Naw! Stephen's got more muscle," Debbie replied, sighing as she thought about it. Then the thought of muscle reminded her of LaCroix and her sigh deepened. "But nobody has it over Nunkies," she murmered. The other two women agreed whole heartedly. "He's *so* handsome," cooed Sherry. "And *such* a lover," Kristine sighed. "Just *think* about how he treated Fleur..." "It's almost as great a romance as Nick and Nat's." Debbie blanched noticeablely. She akk-ed mentally at the thought of Nat with the Brick, but covered smoothly by burying her head in her menu. "Don't you think so, Deb?" Sherry continued, eyeing her almost suspiciously. "Ummm... yeah, sure," the younger Addict replied quickly. "How 'bout we order now?" She signalled to Jason and promptly ordered a cinnamon-raison bagel with cream cheeze and a hot cup of tea. Kristine and Sherry also ordered, and Jason reclaimed their menus with a bright smile. "So, uh, Sherry..." Debbie said in a casual-like tone, "whatcha go in the bags?" "Kristine and I went shopping and we found this *wonderful* little T-shirt shop. We just couldn't help ourselves-- we bought shirts for all of our sister Addicts!" Sherry held out one of the shopping bags to her friend. Peering inside, Debbie was greeted to the sight of a dozen or more T-shirts similar to those worn by her friends. Each different colored shirt contained the logo "Nick and Nat 4ever" encompassed in a heart. It was truly revolting. "You can have yours now, if you'd like," Kristine bubbled and pulled a pale pink shirt from her shopping bag. Debbie pushed the shirt away out of instinct, and the other two Addicts gaped at her in wonder. "You don't want the shirt we bought for you?" Sherry asked, again eyeing her with suspicion. Debbie thought as she put on her best poker face. "Of course I do! Just..." "... not in that color. Pink makes me look all washed out. Could I possibly have this black one?" She pulled one from the bag Sherry had handed her. If she *had* to have one of the horrible shirts, she might as well have a color she liked. She smiled at them almost too brightly and asked, "How'd you *find* this shop. I might want to go there later." Debbie listened as the two women told her a rather long story about two "kindly Nick&Nat Packers" who had showed them where to go to get the shirts. Debbie puzzled. Why did that sound familiar? Then, she remembered. Last night, when she had been all-too-tired to do more than sleep, Shele had called the Addicts together and had been saying something about a kidnapping. Debbie'd passed out in the middle of it from sheer exhaustion. This all made sense to her, now, however. The sudden disappearance and reappearance... not to mention their inexplainable fondness for N&Npacker memorabilia. "I wonder..." Debbie murmured to herself as she listened to her firends rambling on about how Nunkies wanted them to unite Nick and Nat forever and ever. Ick! Continued in "A Bit of Reprogramming" NA: A bit of Reprogramming 01/01 Written by: Fleurette Starring: Debbie, Sherry, Kristine, Jules (all used with permission) and LaCroix (permission granted by Bonnie Rutledge) Time: Thursday, after "Nick & Nat Forever?" and concurrent to Place: The Shrine ************* "Come on!" Debbie said as she led-- half dragged--Sherry and Kristine back to the Shrine. They'd spent the entire day talking and shopping, while Debbie tried to comprehend what might have happened to her friends. She even tried plying them with Nunkies Pops in an attempt to snap them out of the funk the N&Npackers had obviously placed them in. Now the Nunkies Pops were gone and all three women wanted more of them. "I think I still have a stash hidden under the sink in the Kitchen," Debbie told them. "You mean the Lab," Sherry corrected. "Whatever." All three women froze in their tracks, however, when they entered the Shrine and found their High Priestess walking ahead of them with LaCroix. "Nunkies!" Sherry and Kristine breathed aloud, immediately drawing attention themselves. Debbie smacked her hand to her forehead as the Roman General turned to them. He had started to smile at the Addicts' pet name for himself, but the emotion wiped away from his face when he saw the shirts the women bore. Sherry and Kristine did not seem to notice the frown steadily forming on his face, but Debbie did. She glowered, eyes down-cast, and concentrated upon the rhythm of Jules shoes tapping against the floor. "Where are you three in such a hurry to go?" Jules asked autoratatively. Debbie raised her eyes to Jules and , with a slight whimper, said, "I was going to get my stash of the Nunkies Pops so Sherry and Kristine could have some. They missed the raid." "Dressed like *that*?" Jules's voice rose an octave in indignation. This snapped the other two Addicts from their Nunkies-induced revery and they glanced between Debbie and the High Priestess warily. They were beginning to wonder what was wrong with their fellow Addicts. Debbie hadn't seemed to like Nick and Nat as a couple and Jules looked down right non-plussed. Debbie saw what was crossing their minds and quickly spoke up. "You're so right, Jules. We don't want to get stickly chocolate on our nice new T-shirts." She turned to Sherry and Kristine. "Why don't you two go into the Sacred Wardrobe and change into somehting else? I'll come in after I talk to Jules." Her eyes pleaded with them to go, and so they went-- still eyeing her distrustfully. "Debbie's acting weird," they were heard to whisper as they left the room. "WHAT'S GOING ON?" Jules bellowed at the young Addict when the other two had left. Shrinking back against the doorway, Debbie decided that Jules had been spending *too much* time with LaCroix. She was formidable and scary. Glancing at her black T-shirt (she'd changed into it at a public rest room to please Kristine), Debbie felt almost as if she had betrayed someone. Nunkies. "Please, Jules... don't be mad at me. I brought them back here because they need help. Something is terribly wrong with them." Debbie's eyes begged and pleaded with her High Priestess. "What do you mean, 'they need help'?" LaCroix's cool voice asked, drawing attention to the fact that he was standing before them. Debbie turned her eyes to him worshipfully and prayed she didn't melt before she could tell him what she now believed had happened to her friends. "Sherry is one of my very best friends," she began with a gulp. "She wasn't at the meeting the other night at CERK and I haven't seen her since then, because I've been..." Debbie trailed off, not know what all Nunkies knew about the Poohbah-napping caper. "... busy." "Debbie was one of the Addicts who took it upon themselves to kidnap the Grand High Poohbah, General," Jules supplied. LaCroix's eyebrows raised in new interest. "My, my. You *are* a surprising one, indeed, 'Little Flower,' " he said, giving an English translation of Fleurette. "Mer- merci," Debbie stammered, remembring the way he had looked at her Monday night. "Tu parle francais?" LaCroix asked in return. "Bien. Qu'est-ce qui se passe avec nos amies?" he asked her, inclining his head towards the door Sherry and Kristine had disappeared through. "Elles ont confusees," Debbie replied. "I think someone has messed with their minds." She then explained how Shele had believed someone from NA had been kidnapped and she (Debbie) had found Sherry and Kristine earlier that morning-- wearing those aweful T-shirts and babbling about how great a couple Nick and Nat made. "It was truly horrible to endure," she concluded. "No doubt," LaCroix acquiesed in his smooth-as-silk voice. He seemed to be pondering the situation. "Can you save them, Nunkies?" Debbie asked, forgetting herself in her concern for her friends. "Yes, I believe I *may* be able to do soemthing for the poor, misguided things." Her turned to Jules. "Bring me the women, one at at time, so that I may see for myself what has happened to them," he ordered. ***** Jules led both Sherry and Kristine in to see LaCroix in turn. As an Ancient, LaCroix was certain that he could undo anything that had been done to his followers. Using the persuasive powers of his voice and eyes, he was able to determine that someone had indeed used some form of hypnotism upon the women. Then he set about to use his own brand of hypnotism to erase the unwanted influences. "Tell me, Ms. Mullins," he asked Sherry before he brought her out from under the hypnotism. "Who did this to you?" "The Nick and Nat Packers," Sherry said in a slow, drugged voice. "Were you and Kristine the only ones they kidnapped?" "No... Jade..." came the dazed reply. "What did they *tell* you?" Sherry told him. ******* LaCroix led a dazed Kristine back into the Shrine where Debbie and Jules stood waiting. Sherry sat on a divan with an expression similar to Kristine's on her face. In cold tones, LaCroix informed the High Priestess and the younger Addict of what *exactly* the Nick and Nat Packers had done to *his* Addicts. "What is more," he said, "there appears to be another Addict unaccounted for. Jade was also submitted to the same torture as *these*." He pointed to Sherry and Kristine. "She must be found and brought to me. Immediately." Jules nodded. "These two will be sleep for a while," LaCroix continued. "I have removed the tainted knowledge from their minds and they are weary. When they awaken, they *should* be fine." "Should?" Debbie piped up, fear in her voice. "Too much mind control in one life time fry a brain, Ms. Chilson," LaCroix said. "There is a slight possibility that your friends will not fully recover their senses." So saying, he turned to go, taking Jules with him. "Wait! Nunkies!" Debbie exclaimed. She began to blush when she realized that she had called him "Nunkies" to his face twice now. "LaCroix... General... sir," she squeaked out in embarrassment. "Yes?" "May I... have your permission to avenge the injusice done to my fellow Addicts?" Debbie asked. "Know you a way to punish the culprits?" LaCroix inquired, a slight smile forming on his face. "Oui," Debbie answered him, returning the now purely evil smile with one of her own. "I do..." Continued in "Bugs in YOur Garden". Raspberries! By Laurie, Sukh and Bons Starring: Laurie, Heather, Sukh, Jan, Susan, Jules, Christina, and Beth Time: Thursday morn, April 30th After 'This Will Hurt You More Than It Hurts Us' *************************************************************************** Sukh held her breath. The GHP was finally asleep. While the Addict could admire the Poobah's obvious depth of musical theatre knowledge, she was afraid that if Laurie had sung one more note, she would have defied all orders and smothered her on the spot. Thankfully, Laurie's frightening stamina had finally given out. But not before she'd entertained, made that tortured, the shifts of Addicts, who, drawn to the Shrine, like ... well, like Nunkies Addicts to chocolate Nunkies pops, had been drafted into guard duty. Laurie had gone through the entire librettos of Big, the Wiz, and many more appalling shows as the hours wended their way toward dawn. She'd even belted out a number from that musical by the guys from ABBA - Chess - and apparently her rendition of One Night in Bangkok had taken sheer terror to new heights. Luckily, Sukh had not been around for most of the Andrew Lloyd Webber Hour. Actually, from what she'd heard, it had been more like the Andrew Lloyd Webber Hours ... and hours ... and hours. There was a lot to choose from, and the Poobah knew them all - Aspects of Love, Starlight Express, even Cats. That's where Sukh had come in. Laurie had passed out midway through screeching Memories. She turned to the Addict sitting next to her and nudged her. The moment quiet had descended, Heather had nodded off, and little snores were emanating from her, as she smiled dreamily, all the time sucking on her precious Nunkies pop. "Wake up. You're gonna choke on that thing. You should give it to me," she ordered her friend. Heather yelped, jumped out of her chair, removed the pop, and clutched it to her chest.. "No way!" she screamed. Unfortunately her scream caused the Poobah to wake up. The brief nap seemed to have rejuvenated the Merc leader. Without missing a beat, she shouted, "Hey, MacMoron, this is for you," and launched into Tomorrow from Annie. Well, launched into a rather unreasonable facsimile of Tomorrow. You know I'll break free tomorrow Bet your stupid breastplate That tomorrow You'll be done! Just thinkin' about Tomorrow Cheers me up to no end, And your sorrow Will be fun! When I'm tied to a couch That's ouch And itchy. I just think how I'll maim Your frame, And Vow, Wow! You know I'll break free tomorrow Tomorrow You won't know what's comin' When tomorrow I'll repay! Tomorrow! Tomorrow! I'll get ya Tomorrow! You know that I'll make you PAY! Heather screeched, and ran out of the room, pulling on her hair, as her plaid flapped behind her. Sukh couldn't particularly blame her, the poor girl had ended up doing not one, not two, but three hours of guard duty; which was more than enough to drive anyone else insane. Indeed, as the news had spread among the Addicts of the Poobah's presence, and more importantly, the Poobah's popsicles, Addicts had been drifting in and out all night, taking up a guard shift in exchange for a handful of Nunkies pops. Even that had not been enough to make most of them stay long. An hour of Laurie's singing was enough to break the strongest, the bravest, the mightiest. The Addicts had re-emerged from their brief shifts shell-shocked, although a new Nunkies pops had quickly restored even the most damaged brains. Hmm. She looked over at the Poobah, who had gone back to the original lyrics, and astonishingly enough, considering how bad the actual song Tomorrow was, she was making it sound even worse, an occurrence Sukh wouldn't have thought humanly possible. Perhaps she should go after Heather; the poor dear had looked quite near the breaking point. No telling what she might do to the Poobah. Which would definitely not bring them any closer to the cure ... to Nunkies pops ... to the gold ... to Nunkies pops ... to Nunkies pops ... to ... Sukh's meltdown was interrupted by the returning Heather, who ran back into the room carrying a thermos and made a beeline for the GHP. Right behind her came Christina, screaming at the top of her lungs, "HEATHER!!!! NO!!!!! DON'T DO IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" and frantically grabbing at her friend's arms, trying to wrestle the thermos from her grip. Jayne, hearing the commotion, paused by the open video room door and peered in. Before Sukh realized what was happening, let alone had a chance to react, Heather had unscrewed the cap to Christina's Whammy Juice and forced a bit of it down the GHP's throat. Which had actually been quite easy, as the GHP had been attempting to belt out the last few lines of Tomorrow at the time, and her mouth had been hanging wide open. Even worse, Jayne, not realizing what Heather had just done, turned to Sukh and commented, "Geez, the Poobah sings worse than Carol Channing." Time stopped. Well, okay, this being war nine instead of eight, it didn't really stop. It just appeared to stop, with, well you know, the shimmering air and all that other neat time stopping stuff. The momentary calm snapped Heather out of her frenzy. She looked with dismay at the half empty thermos in her hand, and then at the Poobah. "Oh, no!!!!!!" she wailed. "What have I done?" The other Addicts snapped out of the trance created by the catastrophe that had just occurred. They turned as one to stare at the GHP. Right before their eyes, and unfortunately, their ears, a miraculous transformation took place. The 5' 2" black haired green eyed slightly overweight Laurie turned into an even shorter platinum blonde really old actress with a limited talent range, and the absolutely totally one hundred percent scientifically proven to be so most annoying voice in the entire world. "Raahs-berries!" (This was a form of Carol Channing greeting.) "A kiss on the lips is quite continental, but diamonds are a girl's best friend," came from Carol's red smeared lips. Unfortunately, it was a toss up between who was worse, Carol or Laurie. The Addicts stared at each other in dismay for a moment. Then a wide grin broke across Sukh's face. "Come on, guys, we're out of here," she said. "She ain't goin' nowhere, and Carol sure doesn't know where the cure, the gold and ..." her eyes glazed over slightly ... "the Nunkies pops factory is. I think we've earned ourselves a brief reprieve." The Addicts departed the video room, as Carol opened up and started to roar. *************************************************************************** Jules tapped her foot worriedly as she leaned against the Shrine altar. The situation with Laurie was firmly out of hand. Jules grimaced as horrible sounds resembling a flock of chickens in a mine field emitted from the direction of the Video Room. "I'm just a Jaaahzzz Baby!" The High Priestess cringed. So far, the Laurie's interrogation had only shown disastrous results. The problem with the torture techniques that the addicts had used earlier was that they hadn't attacked the Poobah on all sensory levels. Really bad movies only gave her visual and aural input. That left too many centers of Laurie's brain free to concentrate on hostile behavior. What they needed was... "Jan? Susan?" The addicts looked up from their game of Risk. "Yes, Jules?" "I need you to go to the 96th precinct and steal the GVP virtual gear from the evidence locker," Jules commanded. "Awww, jeez!" Jan complained and thumped the game board. "I was just getting ready to take over Canada!" "Steal? Steal?" Susan protested, more concerned with her permanent record. "What if we get caught? What if we go to jail?" "Don't worry," Jules assured her. "NA's bail fund is well-stocked. We've learned from experience." "Why don't we do something legal - *gasp!* - and borrow one from the DKC?" Jan suggested reasonably. "Because they would want to know what we were using it for," Jules said, shooing the addicts toward the exit. "We don't exactly want to share the news that we've kidnapped the Grand High Poobah, now do we? Now go! Commit larceny!" *************************************************************************** Sneak...Sneak...tip-toe...tiptoe...peek! "Damn! Can someone tell me why we can send people to the moon but we can't make a watercooler that works?" "Shh..." Susan whispered to Jan. "Pretend you're an extra." The Captain walked past them without a second glance. Sneak...Sneak...tip-toe...creep...creep...tip-toe...jangle- jangle...CREEEEEK! "Do you have to be so loud?" Jan complained. "The evidence locker door needs oil! So sue me!" They quickly found the virtual gear, filed under 'V' for convenience. Jan and Susan allowed themselves a moment to pat each other on the back for being successfully sneaky, then creaked back out of the evidence room. "Can I help you?" "Aaah!" Jan and Susan shrieked. A police officer stood before them, his badge identifying him as Sergeant Pulte. "Are you authorized to be here?" he asked, looking very authoritative. "Yes! Yes, we are!" Susan exclaimed. "Then who are you?" the officer demanded. "I'm Officer Miller," Susan said quickly. "And I'm Officer Wilson," Jan announced. "Hmm..." Sergeant Pulte said suspiciously, "You don't look like Miller and Wilson." "Haven't you ever heard of recasts?" Jan countered, then grabbed Susan's hand and high-tailed it out of there. *************************************************************************** "Here's your VR stuff," Jan said begrudgingly as she tossed the headset and accessories into Jules' lap. "Have fun." "Did you have any trouble?" Jules asked. "It's possible there's an APB out fitting our descriptions," Susan informed the High Priestess. "Oh, dear." Beth had been waiting beside the High Priestess and now picked up the virtual gear and examined it. "How long will it take to prepare?" Jules asked. Beth shrugged. "I can have it reprogrammed by tonight if some of the fanfic fairies help me." "I'll get them some tiny tissues," Jules promised, "so they don't sneeze on your work." Jules sighed heavily. ************************************************************************ Fin for now... Title: Mr. Toad's Wild Ride Time: Thursday, April 30, noonish Place: around Toronto and outside the DP Mansion Written by Kusine Beta-read by Jesse and Glennis, who are the best. I mean it. Jesse, Glennis, and the dark pink 1962 Caddy are used with permission. ************************************** The trio of addicts decided that they needed to get out of the Shrine. They'd spent most of the previous day cooped up inside; only Kusine had gotten outside, and she'd been assaulted by a loony vampire. As much as they loved the Shrine, none of them were used to living with that many other people in such close proximity. Besides, The Grand High Can't-Sing-Worth-A-Darn was getting on their nerves. So here they were, tooling around in Kusine's intrepid Saturn, taking in the sights of Nunkies' fair city in the bright sunshine. The windows were rolled down to let the spring air fill the car, and Jesse kept poking her head out of the back one like a curious puppy. Glennis restrained a motherly "you'll get your head chopped off" comment and let the teenager have her fun. Kusine spun through the radio stations until she found one playing ska, then happily bounced as she drove. They had no particular goal in mind, merely to enjoy the day. They drove aimlessly, moving from the city streets to the residential ones. They slowed down to look at the beautiful old houses, coming to a stop in front of one in particular: 1313 Mockingbird Lane. It was a Victorian Gothic monstrosity, perched on the top of a small hill. It looked relatively creepy, and the houses surrounding it seemed to be leaning away from it. Maybe they were trying to get away. "Hey," Jesse said, pointing down the street at a pink Caddilac, "Isn't that Laura's car? I saw her driving it earlier this week." "Laura?" Kusine asked, her eyes narrowing. "The frog-hater?" "Isn't she with the Dark Perks?" Jesse asked. "She defected from Nunkies Anonymous." "Another traitor!" Glennis exclaimed. "Should we kidnap her, too?" There was a moment of silence in the car as the question was pondered. They'd all had a lot of fun trying to save Rosemary from the clutches of the N&Ners. It could be equally as fun to attempt to rescue Laura. "Yes," Kusine said decisively. "I don't know," Glennis said. "Though we could use her to try to find out what the DPs know about the missing research." "I have a better, more fun idea," Jesse said, a smile slowly spreading across her face. "Let's go back to the Shrine. We need to get some stuff." ***************************** Laura's Caddy was still in the same place when they returned. The addicts pulled the Saturn up very close next to it, hiding their car from the house. Getting out, they opened the back door of the Saturn and each got out an aerosol can of spray mount (a *very* sticky adhesive, as any artist or journalist will tell you!) and stuffed Kusine's plastic frogs between thir silver breastplates and their togas (because togas - mini-togas especially - don't have pockets). Moving quickly to avoid detection, they covered the car with spray mount and pasted the frogs to the pink Caddy. Kusine took one side and half of the trunk, Glennis worked on the other side and the other half of the trunk. The two older addicts placed their frogs randomly, trying to cover as much area as possible. Jesse, however, placed her amphibians neatly on the hood, spelling out "TRAITOR" in big, green, froggy letters. All three made several trips back to the Saturn to get more plastic frogs. Soon, the car looked like it had some kind of nasty fungal infection on its surface, all green and bumpy. As a final touch, Glennis ripped the head off of her brand-new pink stuffed bunny and spray mounted it to the front as a hood ornament. They snapped a quick photo, then, jumping in the Saturn, drove sedately on, giggling all the way. ******************************** Disclaimer: I'm posting this for Laurie, who can't send to the list without formatting disease. Clean and Presentable Danger(1/1) by Cousin Jules Starring: Laurie, Jules, Heather, Jan, Jesse, and Sukh Time: Late Thursday afternoon, after 'Raspberries!' *************************************************************************** "I have been waiting for the proper moment to share this news with you," Jules announced to the addicts. "I believe the time has come, otherwise known as 'The Last Minute.'" Jules paused a moment to make sure all the addicts were paying more attention to her than their Nunkies Pops. "LaCroix is coming to the Shrine tonight. He wants to talk to the Poobah and see what she knows." A collective "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!" went up in the Shrine, half the Addicts going into Nunklear meltdown, the other half going into hysterics because they weren't quite sure how Nunkies would respond to their torture...'technique.' Perhaps they'd gone too far. Perhaps they hadn't gone far enough. Heather stared at the GHP, who was once again, the GHP. She'd finally been removed from the divan, and was lying bound on the floor, Carol Channing having apparently finally left the building. "She's kind of a mess," she said. "We wouldn't want Nunkies to be defiled by her presence when she's like that, would we?" "Better get her cleaned up then," said Jan. "Where's the Sacred Fire Hose?" "YOU WOULDN'T DARE!" shouted the Poobah. "You're absolutely right, Laurie. We wouldn't," the High Priestess said too politely. "Awwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww, heck," mumbled Heather and Jan. The Merc leader got a very self-satisfied look on her face. Finally, they were recognizing the peril of their predicament. There would be hell to pay for this, if she could just get rid of these damn fairies. Jules turned to Heather and Jan and announced, "Throw her into the Sacred Cold Pond!!!" Jan and Heather picked up the still-bound Poobah and carried her toward the Green room. Reaching the pond's edge, the other Addicts helped along by cheering, "One! Two!!! THREE!!!!!!!!!!!" "Hey!" shouted Heather as the GHP went flying. "Shouldn't we have taken the ropes off first?" "It's *only* 3 feet deep, MacCousin," Jan reminded her, then went back to watching the spectacle. "As long as she stays on her back like a turtle, she'll be fine." "Jesse, will you run and get something for our 'guest' to wear, please?" Jules asked. "But, Jules, we're all out of mini-togas right now! Laundry went out this morning and won't be back for a bit," answered Jesse. "Anything in the Sacred Wardrobe?" "Well," chimed in Sukh, "there *is* that leather thing with the whip and the, er, matching accessories." "Perfect," Jules decided. "Just don't give her the whip," she whispered as an aside to Jesse. ************************************************************************ Fin for now Scores Unsettling(1/1) By Laurie, Jules and Bons Starring: Laurie, LaCroix, Jules, Bons, Heather, Shele, Sukh, Debbie, Jan, and Rosalie Time: Thursday Night, after 'Clean and Presentable Danger' *************************************************************************** Bons just had a bad feeling about this entire situation. In her opinion, any war activities involving Mercs always had some kind of unpleasant consequence as a by-product. Having a kidnapped Grand High Poobah in her homeplace felt tantamount to having a lightning rod strapped to her head. The thought of willingly bringing LaCroix to have a confrontation with Laurie pretty much proved she was ready for the funny farm. Bons just knew this wasn't going to be a pretty scene, but, like the millions of viewers of The Jerry Show, she couldn't look away from the spectacle. As they entered the Shrine from the warehouse door, Jules, Heather, Sukh and Debbie rushed into the foyer to fawn over the vampire in greeting. This adoration put him in a really good mood, ready to set aside any thoughts of exuberant teenagers learning to drive on his car. When he stepped into the altar room, LaCroix was almost smiling. "What on *earth* happened to your shoes?" Jules whispered under her breath, eyeing the boring brown uppers with distaste. Bonnie immediately put on her abused puppy face, stuck out her lower lip, and whined, "I got in trouble!" "Oh, dear." This redirected Jules' thoughts what LaCroix might think of their torture methods. By this point, they were in the main room of the Shrine and able to view Laurie. She was still sitting on a peach divan, but not attached to it. Heather and Jan stood guard at her sides. The toga, breastplate, and Mountie hat had all been retired. Now Laurie had been squeezed into a leather catsuit suitable for a dominatrix. Sukh was taking pictures for her family album. Bons gave a mental sigh as she saw the murderous sparks shooting from Laurie's eyes. *************************************************************************** As LaCroix entered the room, the Grand High Poobah's life flashed before her eyes. When she looked closer, however, she realized that it wasn't exactly *her* life. In fact, it *definitely* wasn't her life. No, what seemed to be flashing before her eyes was a musical version of the life of one burnin' yearnin' blonde, blue-eyed hunk of crumbly adobe like substance. Music filled the Shrine, sounding remarkably like a 40 piece orchestra, as a proscenium stage rose out of the sacred pond. She thought she saw Robert Goulet, bearing an uncanny resemblance to the vampire standing before her, stroll on stage with Nick Knight a few feet behind and break into 'I'll Never Let You Leave Me' from the musical formerly known as Camelot. (If Ever I Would Leave You). I'll never let you leave me, It will not be this lifetime You of all my children, I'll never let go. You won't see the sunlight, Unless you're aflame You cannot be trusted This is not a game. But if you ever leave me, I won't be far behind you. Somehow I will find you, I always will know. You've seen how I track you When you disappear I'll know where you run to, And I will be near. The Addicts all oohed and ahhed, and a few even began to applaud. After all, Goulet LaCroix looked quite fetching in tights. But their hands stopped in mid-air as they saw the look on the General's face; once again he had read their dirty little minds. A raised eyebrow in the direction of the pond sent the proscenium stage abruptly sinking back into the water on a wave of foam, although music seemed to still linger in the air. "Enough," LaCroix said shortly, turning a cold stare on the GHP. "We have much more urgent business to discuss than your pathetic attempt to turn my life into a Broadway musical." Laurie would not be cowed. She might have quite a high IQ, but many hard living years had burned away far too many brain cells. "You? Ha! A musical about your life would take all of three seconds. We could call it Veni, Vedi, Vamoose, how's that?" The Addicts stared in fascination at the GHP. More precisely, they stared in fascination at the GHP's mouth, wondering just how long LaCroix would permit it to keep moving. LaCroix ignored her comments. "We are here to discuss the location of Dr. Lambert's purloined research," he said pointedly. The GHP noted he hadn't mentioned the reward. "I have no idea what you are talking about," she replied coolly, much more coolly than she felt. In fact, dressed as she was, she didn't feel cool in the least. She felt rather like Snow White at an S & M bar. "Mind you," she continued, "hypothetically speaking, if the Mercs *were* responsible for this little incident - and I'm only saying *if* - it's because somebody made us do it." An Addict in the back of the room began imitating Flip Wilson under her breath. "The devil made me do it. The devil made me do it." "Yeah, like they held a gun to your head," another chimed in. The GHP was on a roll. "And if somebody *made* us do it, it's not our fault. *Nothing's* ever our fault. It's in the Guild charter. See article thirty seven, subsection seventy two, paragraph twelve and a quarter, in the section entitled Passing the Canadian Buck." "I think I'm gonna be ill," Sukh said. "Just don't throw up in the sacred pond," Heather warned. "Yeah, you'll ruin that lovely stage," Jan said. "Aim for Laurie - she's used to it by now." Bonnie's mouth dropped open. "You've been throwing up on her??? Isn't there something in the Geneva Convention about that?" The addict doing a Flip Wilson impersonation began to mutter, "The fairies made me do it. The fairies made me do it." Laurie was on a roll. Something about being cinched up in leather brought the disciplinarian out in her personality. "And while I have your attention, sir," the sir stressed in the GHP's silkiest, sarcastic tone, "Might I point out that kidnapping the Merc GHP is not the smartest idea in the universe, although I do not believe your be-toga-ed followers have ever been known for their brains. I hope you guys can afford a redecorator. You're gonna need one when the Guild gets through with you." This final comment was directed at the Addicts, rather than at LaCroix. Laurie might be nervy, but she wasn't stupid. The pack of addicts watched in enraptured fascination, secretly looking forward to the moment when Nunkies had the GHP for dinner. The General gave the GHP a scathing look. "You brought this all on yourself. You've obviously been taking lessons from your horrific predecessor." The General seemed to shudder at the recollection of Dianne. "You mercenaries have been trouble from the start ..." "Who, us?" Laurie tried and failed miserably to look innocent. "What have we ever done to you, huh?" "Would you care for a list?" The General asked. Assorted visions filled the GHP's mind: LaCroix as a giant Easter Bunny .... LaCroix receiving a very strange delivery at the start of war five ... the Mercs taking over CERK ... LaCroix foiled in his attempt to take over third season ... LaCroix in the middle of a totally humiliating series of sappy flashbacks ... LaCroix brainwashed into using a Brooklyn accent ... He was right; the list went on and on. "Hey, so you took a licking. That happens sometimes. You seem to have kept on ticking just fine." "She's lunch," Jan said bloodthirstily. Laurie could see LaCroix's rage slowly building as he too remembered *exactly* what the Guild had done to him over the wars. Perhaps she should try a different tack. "Look, this is *not* my fault. Try looking in your own graveyard." "She's dinner," Heather said, making plans for a bonfire funeral. "I can't believe she's talking to Nunkies that way," Sukh said. "She should be called the Grand High PeaBrain, not the Grand High Poobah." The GHP continued, "If it's anyone's fault, it's those Nunkies of ....excuse me," here Laurie paused and gave the Addicts a facetious look, "it's those *Addicts* of yours ..." Rosalie and Bonnie grabbed the High Priestess' arms to prevent her from strangling the Poobah right then and there. If any strangling was going to be done, Nunkies would take care of it. Several spectators feverishly hoped they'd be allowed to watch. "She's toast," Bonnie whispered in the High Priestess' ear. "With butter on it?" Jules asked hopefully. "... these Nunkies Addicts, as they so *cleverly* call themselves ..." She was sure she had seen him shudder. She was definitely on to something here. "They've been hounding me and hounding me ..." Violins started up faintly again in the background. "What are we, dogs?" came from Heather. Sukh quickly nudged her in the ribs. The primary combatants didn't even bother to turn around. "They've been dogging my every move for days, for weeks, for months, for years, for decades, for ... "Yeah, you don't look a day over eighty" This came from Jan. "... all for one thing. It's consumed their nights, consumed their days, consumed their bank accounts." Yep, the GHP could definitely hear violin strings singing in the orchestra pit. "And all for ..." here Laurie reached down the front of her leather bustier while the horrified Addicts watched, "... this." She held up a chocolate Nunkies pop. The Addicts as one began heading for the door. A gesture from LaCroix stopped them in their tracks. The GHP was just getting started on this particular topic. "This was all their idea, these pops. Yeah, that's the ticket. And what's more ..." here she leaned in toward LaCroix and lowered her voice, "they're the ones who gave me the specs to make them anatomically correct." The Addicts turned various shades of red and green, and once more began edging toward the exit. "Stay," LaCroix commanded, halting the mass exodus with the efficiency of a border collie retrieving sheep. The women stopped, turned and meekly stood before the object of their affection. The General moved toward the kidnapped Merc, extending his hand slowly. "Let me have it," he instructed the Poobah. Laurie, despite her precarious situation, smiled with secret delight. She'd never in a zillion years admit it again to Jules or Bons, but at times, particularly when he was behaving imperiously, LaCroix did have a beguiling way about him. She extended the requested pop. LaCroix accepted the confection and lifted it to his eyes for closer examination. He turned it right, he turned it left, eyes hard as he checked each detail. Then, he handed the candy back to Laurie. "It appears that your *mold* may require altering, Ms. Mercbard," the ancient vampire said smugly. "The dynamics of your specifications seem to have been scaled incorrectly. The ratio should be four to one, not two." "Oh, really?" Laurie said, eyebrows knotted. The light of understanding dawned, and she repeated, her voice louder and blustery, "OH! Double, huh?" But, by this time LaCroix was strolling from the room. He caught Jules and Bonnie's attention with a crooked finger. As he whispered instructions into their ears, the eyes of the petite duo opened wide. Bons said, 'Yes, sir," and Jules stepped back and muttered, "Oh, all right," as the General made an announcement to the Shrine at large. "I will be in the Library. I need to fetch an important item from there." LaCroix turned, and exited through one of the many porticoes. Jules turned to the Poobah, her features forlorn but resolved. "Sorry Laurs, but I have my orders. May the fanfic fairies have mercy on your soul." Laurie snorted. "Fat chance." *************************************************************************** Fin for now... "Real Friends Even Like You On Bad Hair Days" By Patt Elmore Starring Jayne, Shele and RevSam When: Thursday evening, concurrent with 'Clean and Presentable Danger' and before "Scores Unsettling(1/1)" Where: NA Shrine ************************** "Put it there," Jayne instructed, pointing higher. "I'm not tall enough to put it *there*!" Shele shot back. The addict was stretched her full length, holding the "Welcome Our General" sign. "Well," Jayne said, "just drop it then, because it looks terrible, hanging crooked like that." "Yes, *MA'AM*" Shele dropped the large sign to the floor. It draped across the heavy velvet lounge bench she'd been standing on and flowed into a crinkled mess. "That was dumb," Jayne scolded, grabbing the banner and fervently trying to straighten it out. "How could you just dump the sign like that? That's like dumping Nunkies!" "You told me to drop it," Shele protested. "I meant, drop it down so the sides were even, not *drop* it!" Jayne smoothed at the paper, mentally pleading for it to become unwrinkled. "That is *not* what you said," Shele snapped, bouncing on the divan in her anger. "Stop bouncing." The voice came from somewhere within the room, but no other bodies were present. Shele and Jayne froze, looking around quickly, seeing nothing. "Did you throw you voice?" Shele looked accusingly at the other addict. Jayne shook her head. "I wish I could," she lamented. "Would be a neat trick. Toss my voice behind Nunkies and then when he turned to see who was there, grab him. Yummy!" "Yummy . . ." the voice echoed Jayne's words, but dripped of sarcasm. "Hmmmmm, I think I recognize that voice . . ." Shele looked around the room carefully. "Jayne, have you seen the Third Cousin lately?" "She was cleaning floor tiles earlier. She's so devoted to Nunkies that she was down on her hands and knees, scrubbing all the little black icky places off the marble." "Hmmmmmmm," Shele repeated. Then, she decided to conduct an experiment. She hopped up and down on the couch again. "Stop bouncing!" the voice repeated, stronger and more determined this time. Shele jumped down from the sofa and peaked under it. There, wedged beneath the wooden base, was Patt. "It's Patt, under the lounge." Shele looked exultantly at Jayne. "See?" "How'd she get under there?" Jayne said, stooping down for a better look. Patt gave her a weak smile and a little wave, which Jayne returned politely. "Question is, does she want to be under there?" Shele remarked thoughtfully. Then Shele bent down and inquired, "Do you want to be under there, Patt, or were you stuffed there?" "I'm hiding," Patt replied. "From what?" Shele and Jayne asked in tandem. "Unlife." "Oh." The two standing addicts looked at each other, both confused. Then, Jayne's expression brightened. She hunched down again. "Has Nunkies offered you 'unlife,' Patt? Has he offered to bring you across for your devotion and tireless efforts to promote his good name?" "Yea, right." Patt rolled her eyes and lay down on her back, staring into the foam padding of the sofa. "You don't seem excited about the prospect, Patt," Shele remarked, noting the Third Cousin's obvious derision. "Is something wrong?" Patt continued to contemplate the upholstery for a moment, then she sighed--deeply. "Something *is* wrong!" Shele and Jayne shouted in unison. "What's the matter with the Twit!" "We have to get the sofa off of her!" Jayne announced. "Grab the other end." Shele did as instructed, but several puffs and groans later, the two women had failed to move the piece of furniture. "Why'd she pick the heavy piece to crawl under," Shele complained. "We need more woman power." Divine inspiration struck. At that exact moment, RevSam walked into the room. She appraised the two couch-toting addicts and spoke, "What ya doing with the sofa?" "Cousin Patt is stuck under it," Shele explained, "and we're trying to get it off her. Care to help?" "Any reward?" RevSam decided it wouldn't hurt to ask, since this war was about rewards, right? "Only the joy of freeing a fellow soul," Jayne said. "Now, get in back and lift." The three addicts managed to hoist the lounge aloft and off of the hiding Patt. Exposed, the mature addict kind of just lay there, cringing like a fish that had just been thrown up on the bank. "She doesn't look too good, does she?" RevSam didn't know whether to approach Patt and offer comfort, or go tell Louis to get the fry kettle warmed up. "She looks traumatized," Jayne said. "Patt, is there anything we can do to help?" "Not unless you possess a flying carpet, a pair of scissors and some duct tape, there isn't," Patt responded mopily. The three addicts looked at each other, shrugged and looked back at the still sprawled mature addict. "I have the scissors," Shele said helpfully. "I know where I can get duct tape." RevSam mentally began ticking off known RatPacker cubbies. "You should have requested the carpet last war," Jayne replied. "It would have been possible then. Only thing we can do now is offer you a little help from your friends, if you'd like to explain the problem. "Well." Patt rolled to a sitting position, and the other addicts dropped to the floor to join her. "It's like this . . ." *********************** "So, as you can see, I've got myself in a heck of a pickle," Patt concluded her tale, leaving out all mention of Spark. "Okay, recapping." Jayne held up a hand and began extending fingers. "1) You have a friend that you owe big time and he wants information about Tracy, right?" Patt nodded. "Okay. 2) Getting this information required the services of a mercenary. Right?" Patt continued to nod. "Okay. 3) The mercenary's price for services is a lock of Detective Nick Knight's hair. Right?" Patt nodded. "Been nice knowing you." Shele started to rise, preparing to be on her way. Patt hung her head down. A single sob escaped her. Before the others could make further comment, Patt was standing and heading out of the room, shoulders slumped, her body a work in dejection. The addicts watched her leave. "This is a terrible injustice," Jayne declared. "Patt may be a pain at times, but she doesn't deserve to have this fate hanging over her head." "We could send her some peach bubble bath," RevSam suggested. "Or," Jayne said, eyes brightening, "we could *really* help her out." "Uh, oh. I don't like the sound of this," Shele winced, backing away. "But, you do like the idea of helping a fellow NAer, don't you?" Jayne persisted, rising and trapping the backing Shele against a wall. "You do know, for a fact, that if the tables were reversed, Patt would be right here for you, planning a way to obtain that hair." Shele winced again. "We're going on one of those war missions, aren't we?" "Yes," Jayne nodded vigorously, then she turned to RevSam, "and she's going too." RS looked up, startled. "What?" Jayne just smiled. "Don't fret, RevSam. We're just all going *hair* hunting." ************************************** Date: Thu, 30 Apr 1998 22:15:18 -0500 Reply-To: br1035@IX.NETCOM.COM Sender: Forever Knight TV show stories From: Bonnie Rutledge Subject: War: NA/Merc: Port-A-Poobah (1/1) To: FKFIC-L@LISTS.PSU.EDU X-UIDL: dcf2b212ae2996ec964424f5c7e6157e Disclaimer: I'm posting this for Laurie. Apparently the fanfic fairies keep sneezing on her posts, making them look messy. Port-A-Poobah (1/1) Authors: Jules, Laurie, Patt, and Bons Starring: Laurie, Jules, Patt, Bons, and LaCroix Time: Thursday night, after 'Scores Unsettling' ************************************************************************ "She must go," LaCroix whispered to Jules and Bons. The General appeared adamant. The High Priestess sighed. "Yes, you're right. Just 2 days ago, we had an almost circus-like incident here with all sorts of people I didn't recognize. If that were to happen again - and it shouldn't - the GHP could all too easily be discovered." "Precisely. I do hope you've...chastised those who committed the aforementioned breach of security," Nunkies said smoothly. "Oh, yes," the High Priestess said with an evil smile. "Aerobics classes start next week." Bons shuddered. Lacroix was pleased. He excused himself to the Shrine Library, saying he had an urgent item to pick up... ************************************************************************ Later, in another part of the Shrine... "Oh, Paaaaaatttttt! Oh, Paaaaaattttttt!" the Priestess called out. "She's not here," came a voice from behind one of the Lacroix busts. Jules slowly walked across the marbled floor and found Patt sitting on it, leaning against the bust's supporting column. A bucket of floor wax and several limp toothbrushes were visible next to the mature addict. Jules remained standing as she said, "Patt, I need your help." "You mean, you need a *victim.*" The auburn-haired woman knelt down next to the Louisianan. "Now, Patt. Since when is a chance to help out Nunkies such a terrible experience?" Patt's ears perked up at the mention of the "N" word, then returned to their previously disinterested mode. "I don't know, Jules. Everytime I come close to anything having to do with Lacroix, I somehow don't come up smelling like a rose. Can't you pick on someone else???" "No can do," Jules replied as she joined Patt on the floor facing a different direction. "This is a *highly secretive* undertaking, and, since you're more adept at subterfuge than many of the other addicts, you're perfect for the job." Patt looked a little cheered by that comment. "Gee, thanks, Jules," she said with a genuine smile. "You've also got more upper body strength than me," the High Priestess added. "Gee, *thanks,* Jules." This was said with more than a touch of sarcasm. Jules ignored Patt and continued plotting. "Now, how to go about doing it?" she asked the air. Suddenly, she snapped her fingers. "I've got it! Patt, you go have the GHP moved up to my room, and get her ready for a road trip. I'll be up shortly." <*Road* trip?> Patt s expression was pure shock as she watched Jules walk away. Resigned, the mature addict hoisted herself from the floor, careful not to trip on the slick surface. The tiles had an unusually healthy glow, she noted proudly. She found a few Addicts and relayed the Priestess' orders to move the GHP upstairs. To avoid having to help, she marched ahead of the workers, giving orders like 'Turn right,' 'A little to your left,' and 'Her head's stuck in the door!' The bedroom of the High Priestess, though much like the other addicts in dimension, befitted her station at the Shrine. For one, Jules had a Nunkies tapestry all of her own. The room was littered with what appeared to be Roman artifacts, and there was a hook protruding from the ceiling that looked like it was waiting for some windchimes. The High Priestess showed up about five minutes later, She stopped and stared in wonder at the spectacle before her. Laurie Mercbard, Grand High Poobah, had been laced quite effectively with a variety of lingerie and elastic-based undergarments. "Got the idea from a couple of Vaqueras," Patt informed Jules, noting the High Priestess' gaze. "I think the red garter belt gag is an especially nice touch, don't ya think?" The two Addicts gazed admiringly at the Third Cousin's handiwork. Laurie kept struggling against the underwear, but to no avail. "We need to keep her quiet," Jules said. She pulled out a vial and a plastic glove, poured a drop of Whammy Juice on a finger, and carefully pulled down the GHP's lower lip at the bottom of the gag, smearing it with the formula. The GHP, who had been desperately but fruitlessly trying to bite Jules' finger, immediately collapsed, unconscious. "Now what?" Patt queried. "Please don't tell me I'm going to sling her over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes, and we'll just waltz out of here without anyone noticing." "Nope," Jules replied as she popped outside her room, then reappeared a moment later with a large, rolled up Oriental rug. With a flick of her wrist, she rolled the rug away from her, then looked at Patt expectantly. Taking her cue, Patt placed the GHP at one end of the carpet, and the two women began the process of creating the first GHP burrito. "*Now* we're going to waltz out of here without anyone noticing," Jules announced triumphantly as she helped Patt heave the GHP and carpet over a shoulder. "After you." *************************************************************************** Ten minutes later, the women had the GHP safely ensconced in the back of Patt's maroon truck. Patt prepared to climb into the front passenger seat, but Jules stopped her with a touch. "Why don't you sit in the back with Laurie, dear?" It was a demand voiced as a question. "Laurie's comatose," Patt said, looking at the unmoving carpet. "She wouldn't be any fun to visit with." "We don't need visit, hon. We need safety." Jules quickly produced a roll of duct tape from a hidden source. "Give me your hands." "Where was the tape when I needed it to wrap her Poobahness?" Patt quizzed while Jules wrapped several layers of the silver plastic around the Third Cousin's wrists. "I had to be certain that I'd have plenty to render you accident free," Jules smiled sweetly. "I hid it." Once the taping was finished, the two addicts tore away from the front of the Jeweled Peach and began making their way to CERK. Four minor traffic violations (for which they weren't caught) later, they pulled into LaCroix's private space outside the station. *************************************************************************** They were met, of course, by one of the Phantom's security people. The chosen, complete with tiny headset microphone and walkie-talkie looked up expectantly as the women approached. "Hold on," he whispered into the monitoring device. "Let me think for a second if I want pickles on that or not." "Ladies," the guard said, stepping into an intercepting position. Jules pulled herself up to her full five feet plus nothing without heels height and looked at the man coolly. "I'm Jules, High Priestess to the Shrine of Nunkies. I'm here to deliver a new Persian rug to the General. The penthouse is being remodeled, you know." The guard opened his mouth to give the usual arguments about not knowing anything about it, have to check on it, yadayadayada, but Jules lifted a gentle hand before a word could escape his mouth. "Oh, yeah. And I work here, too. So, if you don't want Lacroix breathing down your neck - no pun intended - you'll let us pass." The guard immediately stepped aside, allowing the women to enter. Getting to the basement was no problem, once admittance was obtained. Jules led the way and held the freight elevator doors open for Patt and her load. They descended rapidly, and exited into the bleak grayness of the dungeon area. "Yuck," Patt said, making a face. "It's as gloomy as I remember it." "Yes," Jules agreed, "but it is necessary to store Laurie here, so her presence will not be detected. We must protect the innocent." "Cousins . . . innocent?" Patt grinned. "Talk about your oxymoron." "I'll be right back," Jules said. "There's one more thing we need." Patt quickly deposited Laurie into the only open cell. Jules soon returned with several pieces of electronic equipment. The copper-haired woman instructed Patt to unwrap the GHP. Patt propped the slowly awakening GHP on to a straight back chair, actually the only piece of furniture in the cell. "What's that?" Patt asked, looking at the strange headgear Jules was holding. "Welcome to the world of virtual reality," the High Priestess replied. "We're just going to give Laurie a little something to entertain her during her stay. Dungeons can be so dreadfully dull, don't you think?" "Makes her look like a human/crawdad mix," Patt injected. "Knowing Louisiana as well as I do, I'm sure many of your 'countrymen' would probably agree with you." The pair looked at the GHP. "She might fall off the chair," Patt said. "We wouldn't want her to hurt herself." They quickly found some bindings, and secured the gagged, laced, and corseted GHP onto the chair, rocking it back and forth a few times to make sure Laurie was secure. Jules then slipped the device onto Laurie's head. She flicked a switch on a remote mechanism and the two women waited. Within seconds, the GHP started to groan, and the High Priestess signaled it was time to leave. "What's that thing *doing* to her?" Patt asked worriedly. Jules shuddered. "It's awful, Patt. I had Beth and the fanfic fairies reprogram it for The Ultimate Experience In Torture. For the next three hours, she'll be forced to endure a string of live Michael Bolton's concert, after which she will star in three hours' worth of Hee Haw, and then another three hours with the Lost in Space robot saying *Danger* Danger* over and over. After that comes a virtual bout of swimsuit shopping. Then the whole thing will start over." "Jules!" Patt cried. "That is *too* cruel. How can you be so mean?" The Priestess gave her a wise stare. "Only one who has endured Laurie singing 'Don't Cry For Me, Argentina' could understand." Jules patted the Third Cousin on the shoulder. "Be thankful that you were spared participation in those posts." Jules and Patt left the cell, leaving Laurie to the first of many renditions of 'When A Man Loves A Woman,' alone in the bowels of PERK save for a few glowing pink rats. *************************************************************************** Fin for now... Date: Fri, 1 May 1998 20:53:40 EDT Reply-To: Third Cousin Sender: Forever Knight TV show stories From: Third Cousin Subject: WAR: "Betrayal and Retribution" To: FKFIC-L@lists.psu.edu X-UIDL: 0c396ee3d2d34af77e59468172633d0b "Betrayal and Retribution" By Patt Elmore When: Thursday evening, after "Port-A-Poobah" (1/1) Where: CERK ***************************** Patt wasn't comfortable being within the walls of CERK, especially the dungeon area. She had wanted to help Jules. Really appreciated this little opportunity to try and distinguish herself with the High Priestess again, but being in CERK scared the fire out of her. Or rather, put her in possibly too close a proximity to her own personal version of brimstone. The thought kept racing through her mind like a crack-addicted hamster on a motorized wheel. Patt tried to pay attention to what Jules was saying, tried to pay attention to the mission they were on, but, as soon as Patt knew their destination, all she could think of was "Maybe we'll run into the General while we're still within the building," Jules commented happily as the elevator rose from the cells to the first floor. "I'm certain that he'll be proud of how efficiently and quickly I carried out his orders to move the Grand High Poobah to his personal domain." "Yea . . . he'll probably be thrilled," Patt said. "He might be so pleased that he'll be in the mood for a little game of billiards," Jules gushed, her face beaming at the possibility. "Eight ball in the side pocket . . ." Patt said glumly. "Hmmmmmmm, that sounds intriguing," Jules grinned. "In case of such occurrence, I *can* trust you to find your own way back to the Shrine, minus any deviations to pick up livestock, can't I?" The HP tried for an expression of sternness, but her own anticipation couldn't erase the flush from her face. "Sure, yeah." Patt's feeling of numbness was graduating to terror the higher the lift rose. "In fact, once we get back to the main floor, why don't you just be on your way. That will leave me *stranded,* and will give Nunkies an excuse to either take me home *personally* or have me stay the night here." Patt nodded. "Sounds good to me," she managed to say through lips now dry as LaCroix's wit. As the elevator wooshed to a halt, the Third Cousin prepared to bolt. Unfortunately, the High Priestess had other plans. As the door began to slide open, she placed a staying hand on Patt's arm and said, "Before you take off, though, I need to go get something that I want you to take back to the Shrine. Only take a second." So, while Jules trotted down the hall to get a mysterious something for Patt to courier, the Third Cousin was left alone, doing her best imitation of invisibility. And, she almost succeeded. In a few moments, Jules returned, holding two of her recently purchased CD's. "Take these and deposit them in my bedroom, just in case the General and I decide to 'do the Shrine' tonight." She winked at Patt. Patt was about to leave when she sensed movement. She quickly flushed herself against the wall, waiting. "Jules." LaCroix's voice boomed authoritatively down the hall as he strode toward the HP. The auburn-haired woman whirled to meet him, her face radiant. Then, the radiance dimmed just a tad. Bonnie was at his side. "Yes, sir?" she said, keeping it formal . . . for the time being. "I was told that you were on premises," the General reached the woman and stopped just within her comfort range. "Might I have a word with you before you go?" "Of course." Jules wanted desperately to flutter her eyelashes, but that could wait until later. "I trust, by your preparing to leave, that you have completed your task successfully?" LaCroix arched an inquiring eyebrow. "Yes," Jules said softly, noting that her feet were beginning to feel damp. "Good. I commend you for your quick action. Now, there is another matter that we need to discuss." "Yes?" Jules could barely keep the excitement from her voice. She didn't take note of the dreary expression on Bonnie's face. "We appear to have a . . ." LaCroix stopped, lifting his head and staring toward the exit, his face hard, " . . . problem," he finished. His features masked. "Who else is here with you?" "Oh," Jules waved a dismissive hand. "Just Patt . . . and she's leaving." "No," LaCroix said quietly. "She is not." The next sequence of events, for the most part, were a blur. Patt, who had been inching along the inset wall toward the exit door since LaCroix had come down the hall, reached for the handle just as the General noted her heartbeat, her scent, or whatever homing device he used that particular evening. As her fingers grazed the metal of the knob, his hand covered her's. "YOU KNOW ABOUT SPARK!!" Patt cried out in anguish. Duhhhhh, can you say "deathly quiet?" "Sparks?" Jules finally turned to Bonnie, her eyes full of questions. "What is she talking about sparks for? Is someone on fire, or something?" "No sparks, Jules. Spark. Second season, one trick colt, long mane, ended up staked on Nat's bed. Spark." "Spark? He's dead, isn't he?" "No . . . not quite." Bonnie's voice was so soft that Jules' dread level went up a notch. "He's alive, in Toronto, wreaking havoc and Patt's been helping him out." Jules, eyes wide, turned toward the vampire and the mature addict. LaCroix had said nothing to this point. Now, with the women behind him hushed, he looked down at Patt, his eyes hard. "I know about Spark." His voice was cold. "The question is, why did I not learn of him from your lips?" A convulsion seemed to pass through the Third Cousin's body. "Was it really more preferable to you to render him assistance rather than to come to me with knowledge of his presence?" LaCroix voice sharpened as he spoke. "Was being Spark's flunky more rewarding than the assistance you've pledged to me? Was his 'friendship' so much more favorable to mine that you would betray me thus?" Then, LaCroix caught sight of the shirt. He watched in fascination as the glittered garment heaved up and down on the woman's chest. When LaCroix looked into Patt's eyes again, all she saw was blood. "I suppose it was," he said thickly. Then, in a fit of anger as violent as any of them had seen him render, without actual blood-letting, LaCroix ripped the shirt from Patt's body. He caught hold of the reinforced cotton collar and pulled, almost choking the hapless Third Cousin. The material gave way, finally, with a sickening, rending sound, torn from the woman in shredded fragments. Patt stood there, bruised and shivering, feeling as though he'd torn out her very heart. "You're pathetic," LaCroix said, looking at the mass before him. He turned to Jules and Bonnie and addressed them simply. "Dispose of her." "No." Patt's soft protest surprised LaCroix. He turned, his expression hard. "If you feel it's necessary to kill me, then fine," the mature addict continued, her voice barely a whisper. "But, don't ask my friends to do your dirty work." "Indeed," LaCroix looked on the verge of further comment, but then appeared to change his mind. He rotated slightly, addressing Jules and Bonnie over his shoulder. "Leave us." The High Priestess and Scribe didn't move. "GO!" The two addicts vanished. Alone now, LaCroix turned toward Patt, his expression thoughtful. "Why?" "I was frightened," Patt said simply. "Of me?" "That, too," Patt nodded. "But, I was referring to Spark. He had the proximity advantage at the time." "I see," LaCroix began pacing, hands laced behind him in thought. "Go, on." "He was coercing me," Patt said simply. "I don't react well to coercion, but he seemed to have the better of me at the time. If you think this has been a pleasure for me, you're dead wrong, General. Dealing with Spark has been my own version of a more permanent Hell." "Curiouser and curiouser, this betrayal then," LaCroix said, noting Patt flinch at his words. "Why then, when you reached Toronto, didn't you come to me immediately and inform me of the situation? Didn't my tolerance of you regarding the bottle incident indicate that I could be fair?" "By then, I felt trapped. I figured you'd be so angry that you wouldn't listen to my reasons for *helping* Spark," Patt almost choked on her words, especially when she felt LaCroix's eyes boring into her. "And, from the looks of my clothing, my fears were justified." LaCroix said nothing, waiting. "He threatened my family, LaCroix," Patt continued, eyes pleading. "He told me that he would kill my pseudo grand- baby. Surely you can understand what a person can be pressed to do when their family is threatened?" "Yes . . ." LaCroix focused his expression far away, then redirected his eyes on Patt. "But, you do realize that he now poses a threat to *my* family, and that you brought this threat into *my* community." "Yes," Patt agreed softly. "And you realize that I can't help you get rid of him if I'm dead." LaCroix's eyebrow arched again. "What makes you think that I would trust you to be of use to me in that regard, Ms. Elmore? You've done nothing to prove your loyalty to me to this point." "Haven't I?" Patt looked him dead in the face, never wavering. "Think about it, LaCroix. Spark has used every method of intimidation that he could find to use me up. I *chose* to come to Toronto to be near you. I chose loyalty to you. I," Patt said, her voice calm, "care about *you.*" The General's lips twitched slightly. "I find your declaration of fondness quite touching, Ms. Elmore, but I am less than amused by how you display this *affection.*" "Then use those same senses you used to detect my fabrication at the Cousins reception," Patt challenged. "Hear my heart, LaCroix, and if you sense deceit or guile, then kill me." For a moment, the vampire did not move. Then, he stepped forward, placing a cool hand to the back of the Third Cousin's neck, eyes searching hers. Patt quavered, almost loosing control with his proximity. "Get out of my sight," he said softly. "And, if I ever sense betrayal on your part again, I will rend you with my bare hands." Patt turned and ran for her life. **************************** patt79ad@juno.com The Girl from M.E.R.C. by Mackie the Mole Time: Getting into the early hours of Friday morning, sometime after Port-A-Poobah Place: Deep within the bowels of PERK Laurie Mercbard and PERK abused - er, I mean used with gracious permission Mackie lifted the flagstone above her head a few inches and peered through the crack. The room above was dark except for the faint points of flickering light given off by the electronic equipment that hummed and clicked. She quietly slid back the flagstone floor tile and climbed into the room, taking care to replace the stone - leaving no evidence of her entrance. The Merc spy crouched in the dark, listening. A faint groan came from the darkness. Mackie strained to see into the dark, never once thinking of removing the mirrored sunglasses covering her eyes. Instead she pulled out her mini mag-light and swept the tiny spotlight around the dank cell. There, dressed like a refugee from an amateur cast of "Best Little Whorehouse in Texas Meets Catwoman" and trussed up in a chair like a Christmas goose, was the missing Merc GHP. She was hooked up to a peculiar apparatus, her head twitching weakly as though trying to dislodge the gadgetry attached to her face. It all looked very strange to Mackie, but she had known Laurie for too many years to wonder at the odd things her friend did for fun. She sidled up next to the Poobah and hissed into her ear. "Laurie! It's agent Mole reporting in." The only response was another faint groan and twitch. "Oh fer chrissakes!" the spy muttered as she removed the device from Laurie's head. "This is no time for goofing around--don't you know there's a war on?!" She saw the gag - it seemed to be a garter - and removed that as well. Once freed from the strange machinery the GHP jerked and let out a strangled "_but you met another and ppttht! You were gone!" She shook her head as if to clear it, then craned her neck, looking wildly around, until she spotted the Merc. "Mackie! Oh, thank God!" she croaked, "Finally!! I knew you'd come for me! Where are the troops?" Laurie peered frantically into the darkness. "You *did* bring back up - right?" "What are you talking about?" Mackie replied. "I hate to interrupt your fun, but I have a report to make. You know, you really should make yourself just a *little* more accessible." "Fun? FUN?!" sputtered the GHP "Does being kidnapped, subjected to fanfic fairy funk, being forced to watch do-gooder movies, dumped in a sacred pond, and being forced to - watch - to - V - R - Hee-Haw sound LIKE FUN TO YOU?!" By now, her voice was hitting pitches not previously on the human scale. At Mackie's 'to-each-their-own' shrug, Laurie sagged against her bonds in weariness. "Well?" she snapped when her operative just stood there smirking, "Don't just stand there-- untie me!" "Hey," the spy replied diffidently, "I'm just here to make my report..." "Fine!" Laurie growled. "Make your report - *then* untie me!" As the flood of forbidden facts flowed from the agent, the GHP seethed with frustration. She had to get out of here to make sure this intelligence was put to profitable use. But first she had a few dozen Addicts to kill and a Shrine to burn down. When Mackie finally ran out of juicy tidbits, Laurie said "Good work, Mackie! Now get me outta here, before I go crazy!" Mackie the Mole regarded her old friend and sighed. She forbore stating the obvious - that the GHP had gone crazy long *long* ago. Instead she said, not ungently, "You *know* I can't do that, Boss, " hurriedly continuing as another sputtering frenzy began. "That would blow my cover sky high! You know the success of my mission depends on my keeping a low profile. Playing hero just doesn't work. Besides, could you imagine what would happen if anyone should happen to see us together? Now let's get you hooked back up again." "No! Not again! I can't take it! Just untie me, I'll find my own way out," the GHP gibbered as Mackie began to reattach the sensory hook ups. "I'll say I wriggled loose- no one will know it was you! I need to put that info you gave me to use, otherwise what good is it?" Laurie could not believe that she was in possession of all these secrets - and some of them were doozies - and unable to make a profit off of them. The thought brought her frenzy to a peak and she began thrashing and pulling on her bonds. The spy paid no attention. "Not my problem," she quipped, as she continued to reconnect the machine, "The client got the info and *I* get paid regardless, that's the important thing. Besides," she added as she slipped the goggles back over the GHP's eyes, "the rest of the crew will figure out where you are...eventually". The Merc Leader's struggles abruptly ceased as the virtual program flooded back into her mind, and Mackie put the gag back in place. Mackie took one last look around to assure herself that she had left no evidence of her visit. "Remember, Boss, don't call me - I'll call you," she snickered softly as she lowered herself back into the opening in the floor and secured the stone once more. The room above was dark and silent except for the faint groans of the imprisoned Poobah. * * * Sneaking As An Art Form (1/3) "Must've Been Asleep That Day" by Maya Friday, 8:55 p.m. Everyone used with permission. "This better not take long," Maya grumbled. "Don' worry," Michele assured her. "Jes' in an' out. Won' take five minutos." "Hit better not," the girl repeated grimly. "An' I'm warnin' you, hif we get caught, Oi'm gonna kill ya." "If we get caught, we're dead ennyways," Ursula pointed out. The excited gleam in her eyes belied the grim warning in her words. Ursula was enjoying herself hugely. Now *this* was War! "Nuh-uh," Michele said, peering into a window. She turned back to her partners-in-mayhem, eyes unnaturally bright- though whether from her blue contact lenses, or from being in such close proximity to *him*... her idol... her fantasy, no one could tell. "Hit cain't 'appen. No' in a war. No one kin get killed, 'member?" Maya scowled. "Din't say nothin' 'bout tor-tyure," she said darkly. "Happens lots, a' a matter o' fact. An' Oi'd rather not find out from *him*, 'kay?" "Sure, wotever," Michele said absently, crouching down in front of a handy air-conditioning duct and settling her gold Elvis sunglasses back on her nose. "An' iffen we lost th' Pain an' we don' do nothin' 'bout hit, she's gonna try 'er 'and at sum tor-tyure 'erself. Calm down. Won' take long, Oi said." "'Cuz I wanna go ta the party." "We all do," Brianna pointed out. "Wanna catch a glimple o' the Goldy-'aired Fang Boy 'isself, eh?" Maya bared her teeth in what *could* have been a grin. "'Sides, Oi got us those- whaddyacall'em- reservasives." "Reservashuns?" Ursula supplied. "Yeah. Sumpin' like that. An' I'm *ready* ta go." Maya certainly *looked* ready. The red streaks were temporarily gone from her hair, leaving it all black, and suitably wild; with her black jeans, black boots, and (take a guess) tank top, and with all the dirt and grime washed off, she was... well, almost presentable, even. The crowning glory was the small golden ankh around her neck- a staple of any good Egyptian household. Taken separately, the outfit was just another Goth girl's dress-up. Coupled with heavy black eyeliner and lipstick, a black top hat, and new black sunglasses, the conclusion was inescapable. At least for any avid reader of SANDMAN. Tonight, she was Death. And right now, she was slightly pissed. Tonight, they were all wearing black. Besides being Raven-proper clothes, one fundamental of sneaking around after dark, at least, hadn't gotten past the Ratpackers- wearing black makes you blend in. Unfortunately, any positive effect of camouflage was immediately negated by their loud talking. You can't teach a Ratpacker everything; and if they gave lessons in sneaking around, these four had been asleep that day. "Oi mean," Maya was saying, warming to her theme, "c'mon. Lookit us. We're breakin' into the HQ thing o' the Cousins, jus' ta- remind me why again?" "So we kin look aroun' an' see if 'Er Royal Pain-ness is or ain't there," Michele said patiently, with the long-suffering air of someone who's repeated something one too many times. "Do our Mercly doo-ties an' stuff." "Roight. Mercly duties my arse. Ya jes' wanna poss'bly-maybe see the General 'isself, doncha?" "Sure," Michele retorted. "Jes' like you only wanna go to th' Raven to see Hair Boy." "Damn straight, malchick." Maya stuck her tongue out at the 'Packer. "So let's 'urry it up, huh?" They continued crawling through the air-conditioning tunnel beneath the first floor of the radio station. A few minutes later, Brianna was talking. If her friends didn't know better, they would've said she was angsting. After all, if Bri was a Knightie- *God forbid,* was the devout general consensus- then she would be a Dark Knightie, right? And the DKs have no patience with angst, right? So she was just concerned. That's her story, and she's sticking to it. "D'you think Nicky'll be there?" Bri was worrying. "Oi mean, 'e should be, shouldn't'e?" "Oi dunno," Ursula shrugged. "Wot with the big fight, an' everthing, 'e moight not go hif LaCrow's goin'. An' LC might not go hin case th' Defective's goin'. Y'know 'ow mel- mela-" "Melo-dramatitick," Maya said helpfully, before going back to sulking. She stopped after a few moments. It's hard to crawl and sulk at the same time. "Roight, that's it. 'Ow melodramatitick they kin be," Ursula continued, ignoring Brianna's outraged stare. Michele snickered. "Yeah- 'Ey!" she said indignantly. Maya grinned, as the quartet came up across a vent leading into one of the bedrooms. "Oi wouldna worry," she said complacently. "You know. Be 'appy, or sumthin'. Sure they'll be there. An' Michele 'ere kin see 'er pompous Gen'ral an' Bri kin see th' 'Oly Fang Boy an' Oi kin see V-man, an' we'll all be happily vayo-ing, 'kay?" As she spoke, she was quickly- and noisily- removing the metal grate. "Jes' th' sooner we git done 'ere, the sooner we kin get *there*. So," she began pointedly; however, she never got to finish the thought, as she dropped from the hole in the wall into the room- -And into the waiting arms of the Cousins. *** Maya "memorize their alibis, they're laughing in the snow." -switchblade symphony Sneaking As An Art Form (2/3) "Lessons in Bulls***ting" Of course, they wouldn't have passed unnoticed into CERK... er, PERK... even if they weren't... well, who they were. And of course, since they *were* who they were, it made it that much easier for their tresspassees to turn the tables on them. But, being who they were, they didn't exactly understand *why* the ambush had been waiting. In their minds, they were the epitome of sneakiness. So it came to pass that the Cousins were marching four very bemused and confused Ratpackers outside the room and into their leader's office. LaCroix looked up, irritated. "What?" "We caught some intruders," Bonnie announced importantly, poking Ursula in the back. The blonde thought longingly of the rat in her pocket, wishing she could just get an arm free. *Then* they'd have some fun.... LaCroix eyed them cooly. One of them, he noted, perhaps with some mild approval, had a *very* nice haircut; unfortunately, she also had a rather strange pair of sunglasses on. Gold ones. Elvis ones. And the general smell arising from them was a quick tipoff. "You," he said with disdain, "are *Ratpackers*? Followers of that *carouche*?" Maya nodded eagerly. Michele stood, gaping. Brianna just looked miserable. Ursula was still thinking fondly of her rat. "Leave us," the General said with a dismissive wave of his hand. The Cousins nodded and left the room. Bonnie lingered for a moment. "'Ey, nice shoes," Ursula said, nodding at the girl's Docs as her hand snuck into her jeans pocket. "*Don't*," Bonnie hissed, before turning on her heel and storming out of the room. "Now then." LaCroix's voice took on a dangerous purr. "Suppose you tell me just what you are doing here?" "I'm no' exactly sure," Maya began, more than slightly bewildered by this turn of events. She broke off quickly, hit with the sudden double task of preventing Ursula from producing her rat for target practice and Michele from becoming a puddle on the floor. "I'm waiting," the vampire growled, as Maya and Ursula scrabbled for the rat. Maya eventually wrestled it away from her friend, stuffing the animal in the pocket of her ever-present jacket, noting absently the label stuck to it, declaring its name to be "Din Din". Something told her that ratsie target practice in LaCroix's office would be a Bad Thing. Brianna was looking around desperately. Why were they playing with that rat? More therapy, maybe? She shuddered at the thought. And Michele- no, she wouldn't be any help. The buzz-cut 'Packer was still incapable of speech. Meanwhile, there was a 2,000-year-old, impatient vampire in front of them, growing progressively more impatient. So Brianna did something about it. She started talking. Her eyes grew wide and innocent as she wheedled, "Well, y'see, our Big Pain- um, 'Igh Poobah droogie. Ya know. She's all gone an' we really jus' wanted t'find 'er. 'Cause, y'know, she's our leader an' all-" "Acktually, Johnsie is," Ursula pointed out, sotto voce. "Yeah. Well. Um, so 'e is. Wotever. But the Pain, she's the Merc leader. Hif you din't know that. An' we're kinda Mercs. Sorta. An' acktually, we was s'posed to be watching her, kind of, or maybe not, but she's gone now ennyway. An' she can give like the death sentence or somethin'. Or maybe not. But bad stuff. Reely. So, y'see, we fig-yured tha' if we'd find 'er, then maybe she'd be no' so *mad* at us as- as she might be. Roight?" LaCroix stared at the redheaded woman in disbelief. he thought disgustedly, before speaking. He chose his words carefully. "Why here?" Brianna fixed her eyes on him once more. "Well," she said earnestly, "only someone or people or y'know smart as you an' th' Cousins coulda snatched the Pain. Oi mean, we didn't even notice!" she said brightly, waving her hand to indicate her three silent companions. Personally, LaCroix didn't think this was much of a testimonial.... "So," Brianna finished, "it must've been sum'un really *smart*. An' some droog tha's clever an'- an'- an' cunning, and- um- what's the word?" She snapped her fingers. "Sneaky?" Maya offered. "Yeah, that's it!" Brianna said triumphantly. "Sneakylike." Despite himself, LaCroix found himself growing slightly mollified. This bunch, he reflected, must be smarter than they looked. (Although that wouldn't be hard.) Never mind that it hadn't been his idea in the first place; the "Poobah", or, as they called her (rather aptly, from what he had seen), the "High Pain", was under his control now, wasn't she? It was good to finally get some respect from members of other factions during these Wars- Which was when Maya, temporarily forgetting the perils of vampiric hearing, muttered to Ursula, "She really is pret'y good a' th' bullsh-" Her sentence ended with a sound that was a mingled shriek and squeak, as LaCroix grabbed her by the front of her black tank top, yanking her up. Michele narrowed her eyes jealously. "What did you-" he began angrily, then suddenly let go, snarling. Maya fell back to the floor with a thump, her skin unnaturally pale, and not from the white powder makeup she had on; as LaCroix growled, clenching his burned fist, more in surprise than in any real pain. Maya stared down at her ankh necklace in dazed wonder. The ankh- symbol for life and divine existence. "How neeeat," she murmured, blinking to rival even her beloved Vachon. "Din't think hit would do *that*...." The vampire angrily jabbed a button on his desk, and several Cousins came running. "Take these four to the cellar," he growled. "Lock them up. I will... *deal* with them... later." Maya elbowed the nearly-comatose Michele, jerking her out of her Nunkies- induced daze. "Oi'm gonna kill yew," she hissed. *** Maya "you think i don't know what war means now i'm the terrorist, see how it feels." -heavens to betsy Sneaking As An Art Form (3/3) "It's Been Fun, But...." by Maya Everyone used with permission. - "Well, this is great," Brianna complained. "We're missin' the par-ty." Maya slouched in the corner, cowering under three glares. "Well, Oi'm *soree*," she said defiantly. "Bu' hif we'da no' come 'ere in th' first place, we wouldna be 'ere *now*, would we?" Brianna and Ursula transferred their glares to Michele. "'Ey," Michele said indignantly. "Don' lookit *me*." "We gotta figure out how t' get outta here," Maya mused. "Door's locked from th' outside," Ursula reported. Brianna stood up and walked farther into the cellar. There were the bloodwine bottles, and some- cow tracks? She blinked and moved on. "'Ey!" came her disembodied voice a few moments later. "Ther's sum vent up here. This is too easy!" The other three hurried to her side. "Hit *was* too easy," Michele pointed out. "Too high t' reach." "No i's not!" Maya jumped as high as she could, trying to touch the vent. Her hand passed within three feet of the metal grate. "Lessee," she murmured, taking off her army jacket. Then she turned it upside down. Her fellow Ratpackers watched in mounting excitement as the pockets of the jacket emptied their contents onto the growing pile on the floor. Books, notebooks, pens, pencils, cassette tapes, T-shirts, video tapes, duct tape, masking tape, three *very* shiny pieces of metal in various interesting shapes- Maya had to bodily restrain the other three at this point- spoons, glass bowls, a portable tape player, and even a desk lamp. Ursula's rat scampered out, and the other two had to take Brianna into the corner and calm her down until the animal had disappeared from sight. Then came the plastic bags full of food- Starburst, Reese's Pieces, Doritos, and some Very Special Cookie Dough, among other things. "Cooool," Michele said admiringly. Ursula picked up a Nirvana T-shirt. "Oi have this 'un," she exclaimed. Maya glanced at her. "Acktually, I think it *is* yours. Now-" She squatted down next to the pile and started stacking things. (After, of course, prudently retrieving the Screed tape and the shiny things.) When she was done, it easily passed the three necessary feet. "All aboard!" she said triumphantly, standing back. The other three clambered onto the pile and into the vent. Maya followed. "Are ya jus' gonna leave it there?" Brianna asked worriedly. "Th' fanfic fairies are s'posed t' bring 'em up 'ere," Maya said doubtfully, glancing back down. Apparently, the fairies were on their coffee break. Either that, or they were in no mood to do the bidding of a Ratpacker. Fairies can be fickle little things. A single tear trickled down her face as Maya stared at her possessions, heaped on the floor. "There, there," Michele said comfortingly, patting her on the back. "We'll getcha sum new'uns." "Now, let's get goin'," Ursula added, clutching her recently rescued T-shirt to her chest. "We kin still get ta th' party, roight?" Maya perked up. "'Ey, roight!" she exclaimed. "Hit jes' started. Plenty o' time!" And with that, they set off down the tunnel in the direction of the Raven. *** Maya "i don't know if i could stand another day of rain." -heavens to betsy All In a Night's Work by Brianna Russell, with contributions by Cousin Mary (Jenkins) Time: pre-dawn, Thursday, April 30, AM immediately following "MerKy Meeting" Locations: Merc Central and Tracy's apartment (used by permission) Brianna arrived at Merc Central, her head spinning with ideas. Thanking the Goddess that no one was up and about, she slipped into her tiny cubicle, quickly changing out of her Ninja gi. This was one secret she wasn t ready to share with her cohorts just yet. They knew she was adept in martial arts, but if they knew the extent of her skill, she wasn t sure she could live up to their expectations. ::Tracy, huh?:: she thought sarcastically. ::I don t even much like the little twit, now I m expected to find out what turns her on? Oh well, I m glad it s that battle-axe of a General that s interested in her, and not me. She s definitely not my type.:: Shuddering at *that* thought, she sighed in resignation and fired up her computer. If you want info on somebody, what better place to start than the Web? ******** Many hours later, Brianna rubbed her eyes in an attempt to see the blurry lines of text dancing in front of her. She was now forced to admit to a grudging respect for Nick s partner. The trail of public and not-so-public records she d hacked into had revealed an interesting story. Bri was surprised Tracy had made it this far in life, considering the obstacles she d had to overcome. An alcoholic mother, a domineering father, betrayal by a childhood friend gone bad, witnessing the death of another friend in her youth, loss of her best college friend ... no wonder the woman had spent time in counseling. Chuckling to herself, Bri admitted that she d be in a rubber room by now if all that had happened to her. On the other hand, the list of awards and commendations on the detective's service record, including one for actions 'above and beyond the call of duty' relating to a sniper incident, indicated a strong person, able to rise above adversity. She glanced at her watch and sighed. Early afternoon. The meeting with her client was tonight and she d barely scratched the surface. But she d been up over 24 hours and was exhausted. Unless she wanted to start typing with her nose, she had to get some rest. Saving the latest find to disk, she shut down the computer then gratefully stretched out on her cot, the hard military-issue mattress feeling like the softest of beds. Within seconds, she was asleep. ******** Thursday evening, after dark Brianna woke with a start and jumped to check the time. D**n, she d overslept! Her client expected information tonight and she was nowhere near finished gathering it. Grabbing her knapsack, she stuffed the disks, her gi, and other needed equipment in it before running out the door. Leaving Merc Central, she headed quickly to Tracy s apartment. Once close, she found a secluded spot and donned the gi, covering her head and lower face as well. If this mission went bad , she did not want her distinctive red hair to identify her before she could escape. Moving silently from shadow to shadow, she approached Tracy s apartment. With relief, she noted that the officer s residence was dark. ::Thank you for not being here:: she thought gratefully. Swinging the grappling hook with an ease born of practice, she launched it to the window ledge of the upper story apartment. It caught firmly, but with a loud clang that caused Brianna to cringe and fade back into the shadows. She waited there until she was sure no challenge was forthcoming, then swung the backpack over her shoulder and began to climb. Expecting a locked window, she was surprised to find it unsecured. ::Come on, Tracy. You ve got to know better::, she thought with amusement as she pushed the window open and climbed in. ::Do you leave it open for Vachon? LaCroix probably won't like that.:: Once inside, she took only a moment to look around, familiarizing herself with the surroundings, before beginning her search. She did a double-take when she saw the stuffed animal. A headless bunny sat on Tracy's bed. ::A gift from the DarkPerks?:: Moving first to the nightstand, she picked carefully among the items, mindful to put everything back in its proper place. She was not worried about leaving fingerprints; the black gloves she wore would prevent that. Hmmm ... nothing noteworthy here, just some loose coupons, a police magazine, and a few CD s. Nine Inch Nails sat prominately on top. Brianna fished a small notebook out of her backpack and jotted down the other artists names before pulling open the nightstand drawer. Her lips quirked in amusement as she spotted a diary. ::Do grown women still keep these things?:: She picked it up and began leafing through the pages. Long minutes later she replaced the book, a look of sadness in her eyes. It was one thing to know events that had happened to Tracy; it was something totally different to know *how* those circumstances had affected the officer. Her dual feelings of love/resentment toward her father was something the younger Vetter had yet to come to terms with and, according to her diary, sometimes these feelings nearly tore her apart. It also seemed that Tracy felt responsible for the bad things that happened to nearly everyone around her, illogical as she knew those feelings to be. ::Oh, Tracy, you can t feel guilty for everything that goes wrong. That s too much like Nick:: But there was anger and frustration in the entries as well. Tracy had reflected on the time she'd slapped her mother and once when she'd been "just looking for a reason" to shoot an abusive father. The lady got more complicated by the minute. Shoving those thoughts aside, Brianna picked up the other book in the drawer. She nearly laughed out loud when she saw the title; 'Whuthering Heights'. ::A romance novel, who would have thought a tough-girl cop would go for something like this? Oh well, I guess we all have our fantasies.:: Feeling something inside, she opened the book, then quickly grabbed the item before it slid to the floor. ::A pressed white rose; the lady s an incurable romantic:: Then it hit her. ::White rose?!? That was LaCroix s symbol of love to Fleur. I wonder how he ll take knowing Tracy likes them too?:: Finding nothing more of interest in the drawer, Brianna moved to the closet. At first it appeared to be just the average woman s wardrobe, mostly sensible and casual outfits, with a few that were more dressy for formal occasions. Then Bri realized that there were a few outfits missing that should have been there; most noticeably the dress from "Trophy Girl". ::Hmmm ... out having fun tonight, are you? Good; you deserve it.:: Then Brianna was shocked to see an Uzi propped up against one of the closet walls. ::Yipes! Atta girl, Trace. Underneath all the fluff and pain, you do have a tough side, don t you? You re not the kind to take c**p from anyone.:: Just as Brianna started to close the closet door, she heard voices in the hallway. Quickly dousing the flashlight, she froze, ready to hide or flee if necessary. Long seconds passed before the couple s voices continued up the corridor and faded from earshot. Breathing a wordless prayer of thanks to her late sensei for her training in Shinobi iri - Ninja stealth and infiltration techniques - she continued on. Brianna moved to the dresser to continue her search. ::Ah, jackpot!:: she thought delightedly. Nothing tells more about a woman than her cosmetics, and Tracy s hoard was a virtual gold mine of information. The dresser surface was dominated by large bottles of designer perfume. Brianna gave a low whistle of envy as she saw the names, quickly adding them to her notes; Chanel No. 5, Oscar de la Renta and First/Van Cleef, among others. At over $150.00 an ounce each, it was obvious *someone* made sure Tracy was taken care of. Brianna suspected it was Tracy herself. There were no obvious suitors in Tracy s life and while the Commissioner might dote on his offspring, Bri doubted that he was the type to spend so lavishly on non-practical gifts. Opening the jewelry box, she noted small, simple earrings and unobtrusive chain necklaces. Simple, yet elegant. The Merc s new-found admiration for Tracy went up another notch. ::That s right, Tracy. Take care of yourself; cause no one else will:: Feeling extremely voyeuristic, Brianna opened the dresser drawer and searched the inside. There was nothing except the expected lingerie, but Bri thought it was interesting that all the undies were silk rather than cotton. Another delightful self-indulgence. Considering who this information was for, Brianna even made note of the size. ::Can never tell *what* he might want to give as a gift:: Suddenly aware that she had stayed too long, Brianna quickly looked around the bedroom for anything else interesting. Finding nothing, she went into the living room. Starting with the entertainment center, she made note of Tracy s book and movie genre preferences, then moved to the telephone stand. A glance through Tracy s nearly empty personal address book confirmed Brianna s hunch that the detective didn t have much of a social life. There were some names listed under the heading "DarkPerks", but that didn't really constitute a 'man in her life' ::Might be easy pickings for the right man. Then again, maybe not:: she mused. Brianna turned, ready to leave, when she caught sight of a photo album on the bottom bookshelf. Knowing the stories that pictures could tell, she made time to glance through it. Some of the faces were familiar from her Net search. She checked the back of those she did not recognize, making note of the names if available. One picture especially caught her eye; a photo of a rough, yet impish-looking young man. The picture had been mutilated, heavily scribbled with magic marker. Turning it over, Bri saw "Bruce" written on the back. She looked again at the barely discernible face, concluding that it was a picture of Bruce Spencer, long-time Vetter family friend, and former undercover cop whose history she was familiar with from her earlier research. Brianna felt an unexpected stab of sympathy for the younger woman. ::Betrayal always hurts, doesn t it Tracy? Even more when it s someone your care about. Yet you still care. You may desecrate the picture, but you keep it instead of destroying it.:: Shaking her head in amazement at the increasingly complex personality of her subject, Bri rose from her crouched position. Not daring to stay a moment longer, Brianna hastily surveyed the areas she d been. Satisfied that there would be no evidence of her presence, she reloaded her backpack and eased out the window, pausing only long enough to shut it behind her. She rappelled down the wall, then loosened the grappling hook and repacked it before melting silently into the night. ******** Friday morning, between midnight and dawn Brianna crept back into Merc Central, thanking fate that her luck was holding and there was no one around to question her. Heading straight for her room, she turned on the computer and began a lengthy e-mail report to her client. Once that was done, she typed and sent a second, shorter message. There was one more contact to make and it looked like the fun was just beginning. End Part 1 to be continued in Part 2 Bri, MercNinja Ratpacker wot's afraid of rats! War: Merc- "Now here's what you do..." by Mildred Cady Time: late evening Sept 25th (Sorry it took so long, but it doesn't really affect anything. It's just exposition.) This did not look promising. Only about 5 people fad wandered into the computer lab for Mildred's Debriefing. And all five were Ratpackers. "Try and get some outward professionalism and..." she muttered under her breath. "Pro-fesh-inal-ism??" That was Maya, the apparent leader of this little group. "Oh , its how to make people think you know what you're doing. It's a look, adittude, know-how, and organization. But don't worry about it. Quite a few others don't apparently... "Let's get started. I'm hoping that some others may wander in." Like some other Mercs, her mind added. "First of all, is this your first war?" That drew some nods. "OK. Well, I know you're Ratpackers, and probably haven't heard much about what the whole war stuff is and how it all started- eight wars ago. But, it doesn't matter that much. What does matter is that, for now, for a Ratpacker or Merc it's all the same. We get paid to play. Jobs come from different places- personal requests, webpage submissions, and direct e-mails to Laurie. "Repeat after me- Laurie is Goddess. The GHP is Goddess. I know you really like Screed and all, but above the basement, Laurie is Goddess. If you forget that, or more importantly you make her think you've forgotten it, things get very ugly from there- for you. I hear she just *loves* to show Ratpackers to the hot tub filled with soapy bubble-bath..." Mildred trailed off there. This was the first war that she personally had encountered the Ratpack, but from she had head about them from Wooby, the threat of a bth of any sort was enough to make even the bravest shudder in terror. Wooby was right. The look of discomfort was incredible. It gave Mildred an idea, but since computers and water didn't mix she put it to the side- for now. Mildred went through a 10 minute spiel. Don't work unless you get paid. Laurie always gets a cut. Make sure you keep certial people happy. Don't fool around with the computers, or you cannot play games anymore. If you want more computer drive space, Mildred likes Chambourg, a raspberry drink. "Any Questions?" Michele poked up a hand. "Yes?" Mildred said. "Wots te meanen o life?" "I don't know. Noone does. Even those vampires we gather around who have been alive for hundreds and thousands of years don't know. And I don't suggest you try asking one." "Well, if there's nothing else... That's the end of it. And since you were so nice, I'll show you a cool game on the system." As she was finishing with the Ratpackers at the terminals, Mildred head the door open. She saw Wooby at the door. "It took you long enough." Finally, a Merc shows up at the best time when dealing with Ratpackers- when everything's done. "Sorry, it took me longer then I suspected." "Wooby- why do you have your bal'e'teth out?" Wooby stood aside, and three teenaged girls walked in. "They had problems with being told that they had a baby sitter. This is Sil, Phillipa, and Bonnie. Good luck." With that, Wooby went out the door. "Hi. Your computers are over there." Mildred pointed to a little alcove. "Netscape's already set up to all the sites that I could find for Leo, Keanu, Marylin Manson, Prodegy, and all the other stars and bands your mother said you liked. The CDROM players have headphone permenatly attached, so you can blast it as much as possible. I'll get you anything you want- that your mother won't decapitate me for- as long as the system stays running normally and you don't touch my pictures of Michael." Mildred pointed to the pictures on her wall. "A friend of mine when through some trouble to get them to me, and I wouldn't appreciate getting in trouble with him. "Also, how do you like clubs? I know you're kinda young, but I got an invite to go to this place called Sanctuary from an old friend and your mother said you had fake IDs in Sil's backpack." Mildred grinned and sat down at her terminal. BIBLICAL TALES FOR $200, PLEASE (01/01) by Bonnie Pardoe (in collaboration with Bonnie Rutledge) Time: morning, Wednesday, April 30th (following "It Came From Below") Place: PERK (formerly known as CERK) The young woman awoke to cleanliness and warmth. Two often under-appreciated things! She ran her fingers through her wonderfully-clean hair as she rose from the ever-so-comfy bed. Stretching, she finally took a good look at the white, over-sized t-shirt she was wearing. Concentrating, she was able to read the printing on the front: "Have you seen the CERK cow? Moooo!" She frowned, having no idea what the t-shirt meant. It was then that she noticed the neat pile of clothes at the foot of her bed. Glancing about and finding the dormitory quite empty, she pulled off the nightshirt -- noticing a drawing of a skateboarding cow on the back -- and discarded it, before pulling on the nice, plain black t-shirt and the worn, but comfy, jeans. "I see that you're finally awake," the leader of the Cousins said from the doorway. She cleaned up rather well, the red-head thought, though she's no Eliza Doolittle. And maybe that's not such a bad thing after all. "I'm Bonnie Rutledge, by the way. I never did properly introduce myself to you last night. I'm sort of the general manager around here," she explained, very much liking the 'general' part of her off-handed description. "Are you feeling better today?" "Yes, much. Thank you." "Come on, let's get you some shoes -- I didn't know what size you wore. And something to eat -- you still look pretty hungry." As Bonnie lead the girl down the hallway to the commissary, they happened to cross paths with the very imposing Lucien LaCroix. "And whom do we have here?" His voice was low and resonant. "A guest, Sir," Bonnie explained. Then added, when LaCroix raised a questioning eyebrow at her, "I'll be responsible for her." Then the Cousinly leader turned to her ward and said, "This is Mr. LaCroix." LaCroix stared at the girl for a moment, almost as if he recognized her from somewhere. She scuffled her bare feet and smiled awkwardly up at him, more uncomfortable with the attention than with the man himself. "Have you a name, my dear?" She lowered her head and shook her short curls. "She can't remember anything," Bonnie explained in a hushed tone, feeling a bit (but not too much) for the lost soul. "Indeed? Well, if she is to stay here, she must have a name. Perhaps ... 'Delilah' would be agreeable to her," LaCroix offered, with an almost imperceptible edge to his graciousness. The girl nodded. LaCroix then bowed slightly to their guest and said, "I hope you will enjoy your stay with us." Bonnie and 'Delilah' stared after him as he continued on his way down the hall. "He seemed like a nice man," Delilah commented quietly. "Oh, yes," Bonnie agreed, trying to hide the sarcasm in her voice -- knowing full well that the vampire could still easily hear them. "Very nice. If you choose to stay with us for a while you will find that *Mr.* LaCroix can be the best friend you've ever had." Or your worse enemy, Bonnie added silently to herself. Then, with a smile, she thought it best to change the subject, to something different though equally as near-and-dear to her heart. "So tell me, Delilah: how do you feel about non-sensible shoes?" -end- ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Bonnie Pardoe Children of the Night (1/1) By Bonnie Rutledge Starring: Bons, Cousin Jules, Trakal, Delilah and LaCroix Time: Around 9pm Friday May 1st, after 'Blackmail: They Twisted my Arm They Did!' and 'Sneaking As An Art Form' "Bonnie!" Bons tore her eyes away from the vision of someone who suspiciously resembled LaCroix peddling oatmeal cereal on TV and looked in the direction of the sound booth. She resisted the impulse to yell back an Igor-esque 'Coming, Master!' choosing to sing a polite "On my way!" instead. Of course, she wasn't on her way. A commercial had just come on that starred someone who appeared to be Nunkies in drag. She didn't know whether to giggle or be captivated. Suddenly, no one congregated around the television was laughing. The Dark Specter Of Doom had joined them, namely an out-of-temper LaCroix. "What is this idiocy?" he demanded, snatching the power cord to the television from its outlet. The screen went black. "Much better," he said, then turned to Bonnie. She eyed him warily. "Uh...there's been another attack?" "That makes two so far this evening," Lacroix said, obviously displeased. "That is, if we want to consider the incompetency of the Ratpackers in my dungeon an attack." He gestured toward the blank set. "Describe what happened." Trakal spoke up, because she, for one, was very displeased with the transmission. "I was in the middle of my record-setting 'Tenchi' marathon *again,* when, suddenly, the signal had interference, and the commercials started airing!" She stomped her foot. "I'll never get into Guinness at this rate!" LaCroix put a hand on her shoulder, then gently pushed Trakal toward the door. "It sounds as though someone messed with the cable. You'll just have to check it inside and out before you can continue with your viewing spree. Take your friend from Guinness with you...while you're outside, you might as well fix the call sign so that it says 'CERK' once more," he ordered, giving Bonnie a stern look as he did so. Bonnie protested. "But I *like* the PERK sign!" "Which only proves your penchant for barbaric silliness," LaCroix countered. Bonnie's shoulders slumped. The General's humor had gone downhill since his interview with Laurie and his confrontation with Patt the night before. she thought. "Come with me," LaCroix commanded with an abrupt wave of his hand. "My booth was attacked as well. Get a towel." Bonnie detoured on her way back to the sound booth to fetch a plush sample of black terrycloth. Arriving at the General's side, she quickly sniffed out why he was so annoyed: the doorknob was coated with minced garlic. Bons wiped the handle clean in a jiffy. LaCroix pushed her out of the way and used his key to unlock the door. It refused to open under normal pressure. The General was extremely impatient by this point, so he simply ripped the door off its hinges and threw it aside. "He's so efficient," Bons said in an aside to Delilah, who had narrowly avoided being struck by the door as it flew down the hall. Delilah appeared disconcerted. "Is everything okay? Has something bad happened?" "No, no...the lock was just jammed. There's nothing to worry about." She waved the guest Cousin away. "Go get ready for the party. You can wear some of my non-sensible shoes!" Delilah nodded uncertainly, then disappeared into the Cousinly dorms. Bons turned her attention back to the sound booth. A song about pina coladas was playing over the airwaves. Bons thought. LaCroix began growling at his CD player. He was pushing the 'eject' and 'stop' buttons to no avail. Finally, he yanked its power cord free as he threw the player against the wall. That pretty much silenced the airwaves of music, but LaCroix settled behind his desk and flicked on the microphone. "How clever we like to think ourselves...how immune and invulnerable do we dream to be, only to find that it only takes one crack, one chink in the armor for the entire edifice to shatter. Let me remind you, dear listeners, that I know who you are. Think about your weakness...it's only a matter of time before they are used against you. Every dark corner that you dwell, every slip of shadow in which you try to conceal your movements...I can see you...After all, we are *all* children of the night." LaCroix snapped off the microphone and gave Bonnie gruff instructions. "Requisition a new CD player from one of the Cousins." "Where are you going?" "To the GSS Headquarters. I intend to examine the records of the surveillance cameras for the culprit in this prank. Contact me when Jules arrives to drive us to the Raven." *************************************************************************** "Lily! You look great!" Bonnie congratulated. Delilah looked down meekly at her clothes, a bit unsure about the truth in that statement. Bons had insisted she borrow some of her clothes, and, apparently, the redhead hadn't brought any jeans. Delilah was now wearing a simple, but short, lavender shift with a pair of matching non-sensible shoes. The heels were three inches plus some lift, the uppers constructed out of an impossible maze of straps. Delilah wobbled in the shoes, even when she stood still. She'd probably break an ankle before the night was out, but Bonnie had been so nice at letting her stay at the station, then inviting her to a party, she didn't want to argue about her wardrobe, no matter how uncomfortable it seemed. Bons had changed her drab brown clunkers for a simple pair of flats. She had on a short gold dress styled like a cheong sam and appeared to be in a hurry. "Our ride is here!" she said, grasping Delilah's hand. "We need to hurry!" Delilah stumbled after the Cousinly Leader as they made their way downstairs and outside. There was a sleek black Jaguar waiting by the curb. Bonnie threw open the back door, then shoved Delilah inside. "Hey, Jules!" she called to the woman behind the steering wheel. "This is Delilah. She's coming along." Jules extended a warm greeting. There was a *whoosh!* sound just outside the car, and LaCroix appeared at the passenger's side. He slipped inside, and the High Priestess turned toward him, inquiring, "Ready?" LaCroix looked pleased with himself. "Everything is in order." Jules moved the Jaguar into drive. "Then to the Raven we go." *************************************************************************** Fin for now A Siren at the Door (1/1) By Bonnie Rutledge Starring: Delilah (with callalily's permission), Bons, and Jules Time: 11ishpm, Raven Party Lyrics by Jim Morrison *********************************************************************** Delilah found that she really was enjoying the music, so much that she never noticed that she was humming along until Bonnie pointed it out. "You have a great voice - do you sing professionally?" Bons asked. Delilah subsided into silence. It was a simple question, but she was stymied. "I don't know. I just can't remember," she answered sadly. Bons nodded sympathetically. "Oh, yeah...right. I keep forgetting. You're our resident tabula rasa...blank slate." "What do you mean?" Jules broke in. Delilah looked a bit apologetic. "I don't remember anything...I have dreams about being trapped in a fire...but it doesn't make any sense. I don't know my name..." "LaCroix named her Delilah," Bonnie interjected. "I don't know if I have any family or a job...I have no idea what I am doing here!" Jules crossed her arms across her sequined chest, eyeing the younger woman thoughtfully. "That doesn't mean that we can't search for clues about who you are." Delilah frowned in uncertainty. "What do you mean?" "You have amnesia. That means a person, your identity is locked away inside of you. Why don't we test those boundaries...push at whatever is keeping you from remembering?" "Yes! You were singing along to this song on instinct. You were comfortable. Maybe you *are* used to singing in public!" Bonnie suggested. "At least we know you've heard at least one album by The Doors." Delilah shrugged. "I suppose that's something." "Why don't we give her a real test?" Jules said, raising her hand and gesturing for the band's attention. "Put her on stage and make her sing a number." Delilah's mouth fell open in horror. "What? I can't!...No, no...it's impossible!" "Now, now..." Bonnie said in a teasing voice as she took Delilah by the arm and led her toward the Raven's stage, "you don't remember what you can and cannot do, remember?" Delilah allowed Bonnie to pull her up the stage steps and position her behind the microphone. She fought back her panic as the audience stared at her from the club floor. The hot lights toasted her face and made her eyes smart, and she blinked repeatedly like a squirrel caught in headlights until she had a chance to adjust. "Repeat that last song," Bons instructed the band. The redhead walked up to the mike and announced in a near-scream, "EVERYBODY WELCOME DELILAH!!!" There was some clapping, mainly from Cousins who knew an order when they heard it. Bonnie patted Delilah reassuringly on the arm, whispering, "Good luck," then left her to it. Delilah cleared her throat and looked nervously into the crowd. She waited for the music to begin, but heard nothing. The audience seemed to be growing restless, so she glanced over her shoulder to look at the band and see what was wrong. Suddenly, she realized the band was waiting for a cue from her. Her face broke out into a relieved smile, then she nodded at the bassist. The opening notes sounded, simple, but mysterious. Delilah opened her mouth and gave into her voice, come what may. "People are strange when you're a stranger, faces look ugly when you're alone." Delilah sucked in a deep breath after another phrase. One verse down and no catastrophes had struck yet. Her eyes didn't mind the bright glare of the lights anymore, and she could see Jules and Bonnie cheering her own from the sidelines. Slowly, Delilah began to relax and let herself go. "When you're strange faces come out of the rain When you're strange No one remembers your name When you're strange When you're strange." As they watched Delilah begin to sway to the music and move confidently around stage, Jules leaned over to comment in Bonnie's ear. "You know, I'd say she's done this before." Bons grinned. "I'd say you're right." Delilah's song came to a close, and the audience roared with applause. Delilah looked frozen with surprise for a moment, then waved back to the crowd, basking in their praise. Bons continued to nod as she added to the clapping. "She's definitely done that before." *************************************************************************** Fin for now... Title: Tinker,Tailor, Soldier, Spy 01/02 by: L.L.and Penny, with some ideas from many others! Special thanks to Jessica for the "donation"..... Cast: Of Thousands! Place: The Raven Time: 12:15am Saturday 5/2 - 1:15 am Saturday 5/2 After: The Ultimatum by Bonnie Rutledge All people and characters within were sanctioned by the appropriate parties. Raven Prank sanctioned by RedPrints, leader of the Ravenettes. The Elvis junky, now dressed in Ray Charles junky garb, was once again parked on the sidewalk, across the street from the Raven. The Dark Maestro, once again wailing her blues songs at the top of her lungs. Nothing like attracting a lot of attention to deflect suspicion. Penny kept singing, though she caught sight of a suspicious looking figure in a long, double breasted black leather coat headed her way. As the figure neared her, she recognized Cousin Lesley. "It's about time," Penny chided, "I'm running out of songs." "There is a God after all then," came the retort. "Hmrph, a lot *you* know about singing...." Penny said, glaring. "Hey, you stay away from my singin', and I'll attempt to stay away from your pianistic 'talents'." It was at this point that Lesley really took a good look at Penny's outfit, which was raggy and looked rather filthy. For a moment, the Cousin just stared at the Dark Knightie Spy. Lesley's nose wrinkled up in distaste as she thought she detected an odour, reminiscent of a bad, decaying piece of cheese found in the back of a refrigerator. "What? Ain't no flys on me!" Penny scoffed at her, "There may be flys on you other guys, but there ain't no flys on me!" "There will be if you keep wearing those rags!" Lesley waved her hand in front of her nose. You're not planning on going into the Raven in that outfit, are you?" Penny concentrated on a couple entering the Raven first, then turned her attention back to Lesley, "Of course not!' she sniffed. "Well, then, it's time for the party, what are you going to do?" Lesley asked. Penny stood, folded up her small stool and packed it in a bag. Keeping in character as a blind musician, she felt around in her guitar case and gathered up all the coins and bills. She looked up and grinned at Lesley. "Fringe benefits!" Penny cackled as she pocketed the money. Putting her guitar away, unfolding a cane, she grabbed Lesley's elbow and said, "Where's your car?" They walked down the street and around the corner. Arriving at the car, Penny carefully placed the special glasses in their case, and put them in the trunk along with her guitar. Then she whipped off the ragged coat, causing Lesley to gasp. Underneath was a black dress. Digging in her bag, Penny pulled out a pair of spike heels, and pulling off the dirty sneakers, she donned the heels. "Party time!" she grinned at the open-mouthed Lesley. "You have the 'General's Cheer' with you, I take it?" "Uh, yeah.....I've got ours; NuitCoeur and Jessica already have theirs. I'm sure by now they've already set the stage for us. It's going to be a long time before all the factions forget this little shindig." "You mean if they can remember it in the first place...." Penny added. "Well, I think the little 'reminders' we've prepared, will guarantee it. The General did say to make sure that the Cousinly presence was felt." "He did indeed." With that, the two women entered the club. ******************************************** Inside the Raven.... Cousin Jessica, clad in a long black dress, sipped at her Ribena, and waited. She watched discreetly from across the club, as NuitCoeur dispensed yet more of the 'General's Cheer' into the glasses of some unsuspecting Knighties. Over the past few hours the two Cousins had managed to disperse a lot of the clear liquid given to them by Cousin Lesley, for the purpose of making non-Cousins in the Raven a little more "pliable" and less "coherent". At least those were the words Lesley had used. It was a fairly harmless drug, procured from a Dentist friend of hers. Harmless enough, even with alcohol, if dispensed in low enough doses, which they had been most careful to insure. Jessica looked at her watch and nervously tugged at the cameo choker around her neck. Why weren't they here yet? They had just missed LaCroix' speech, and Jessica was quite certain that he was counting Cousinly heads. She noticed RedPrints, ever the hostess, circulating about the room, seeing to her guests. No matter what, the Ravenette wouldn't have to worry about people having a good time. At least not tonight. As Jessica glanced over at a nearby table, she witnessed the early effects of the Cousinly handiwork: A table of Die Hards were giggling as if they were second-graders in the bathroom at recess. Jessica shook her head. It was going to be a long night. NuitCoeur approached the section of the bar that Jessica was leaning on. Nuit smiled, "So far so good. Most of these people won't know what hit 'em until it's too late." Jessica eyed Nuit, "I think you're enjoying this too much." "What's not to enjoy? All in the glory of the General." Jessica smiled at that; Nuit had a point. "This stuff's not gonna knock anybody out, is it?" Nuit leaned in close, and whispered conspiratorially, "Nope. It'll just make everybody really happy, and less likely to notice any Cousins heading toward the back rooms of the Raven." "And while they're back there, we're supposed to distribute our calling cards?" "Exactly," Nuit confirmed. "They'll be no question that it was a Cousinly prank which made everyone so happy. I just hope the business in the back goes as well as our part seems to have gone. After all, that is the real reason we're doing this." "I'll be glad when they get here...." As if on cue, Lesley and Penny entered the Raven. After a quick scan of the room, the two friends headed over to NuitCoeur and Jessica, where they were leaning on the bar. "Happy juice is out and about, I take it?" Lesley asked. "Yep, it's out there, and it's become increasingly noisy in here....." Lesley and the Dark Maestro smiled. All was well in the Raven. They took a fast look around the room, and saw exactly what they expected: Members of every faction smiling, laughing and being overly merry. Conversations were in full swing, and everyone was too busy to notice what anyone else was doing. The 'General's Cheer' was working quite well. "You guys just missed the General's speech," Jessica commented. A look passed between Lesley and Penny, the former of whom just shrugged, and said, "Oh well, *it* happens...." "We're going to head back," Penny said, "you two keep your eyes on things out here." Penny and Lesley started off, toward the private rooms of the Raven, but NuitCoeur's voice caused them to turn back. "What about the tags?" Lesley smiled, "Fire at will, Nuit. And do the General proud." "Be creative," Penny added. With that the two women headed toward the back rooms, no one having noticed them at all. Or so they thought. ************************** The Raven Soundbooth, continuous Julia and April were standing just inside the Soundbooth at the Raven. They were preparing for their jobs as DJ's for "Radio Unnamed", when Julia happened to catch a glimpse of Lesley, with the Dark Maestro in tow, slipping into the back hallway. "Did you see that?" Julia asked April. "What?" "Cousin Lesley and that Dark Knightie Spy just snuck into the back hallway." April made a face, "Cousins sneaking around.....that can't be good, no matter how you look at it." "Exactly." Julia started out of the booth. "Hey," April called to her, "Just where do you think *you're* going?" "Following them, of course." "Oh great. What about the show?" "You can handle it. I won't be gone long...." Julia didn't wait for any further arguments from April. She walked out of the Soundbooth and headed in the same direction that Lesley and Penny had disappeared. ************************ Back rooms of the Raven, continuous Penny quietly tried a few doors, none of which were unlocked. "Guess this is gonna call for some of my 'special talents', as you call them...." Lesley grinned, "See why I had to have you along?" "Yeah, yeah, spare me the 'I told you so'." Penny picked the lock, and they were in Janette's bedroom in a flash. Lesley closed the door behind them. The room was what one would expect from Janette; not modest, but not overstated either. Janette was always the modicum of good taste. Penny opened the vanity, and was presented with an amazing collection of lipsticks. "Good God, what does anybody need with *all* of these colours?" Lesley peered over the Dark Maestro's shoulder, "Makes ya wanna have a garage sale, don't it?" Lesley pulled out a plastic bag from one of the pockets of her leather coat. She removed the twist tie, and out of the bag she pulled several lipstick tubes. "I brought these along, just in case we were presented with this opportunity. Here....." She handed Penny the lipstick tubes. Penny took them, and opened one of them, twisting the bottom until the lipstick had exited the tube. It was the ugliest shade of blue in captivity. "Ewwww......where did you get this? It is disgusting." "Yeah, isn't it? Just imagine when Janette blindly reaches for her fire-engine red, and she pulls out smurf blue." Penny's grin grew into an evil one, "I only wish I could be here to see it..." The Cousin and the DK rifled through Janette's things as quickly as they could, leaving behind the ugly lipsticks. They found no sign of Natalie's notes, which of course was the real reason they were in the back rooms of the Raven. Penny walked over to Janette's closet and opened it, revealing an enormous collection of gowns. "Hey, tweety bird," Penny called, "I think Janette has more gowns than you do. And I didn't think it possible...." "Watch it, fumble fingers," Lesley retorted, "at least I have the excuse of 'I need them to sing in' - Janette just likes to have the proper gown for every possible occasion." "Fumble fingers? I do not have 'fumble fingers', I'm an excellent accompanist, I'll have you know...." Penny handed Lesley one of the General's 'calling cards' and a piece of string. "What's the string for?" "So you can hang the little bugger from the ceiling of her closet. Why else?" Lesley grabbed the black alloy Roman soldier from Penny's hand, tied the string around it and hung it up in Janette's closet. "Well, I dare say, it won't take Janette long to figure out who did this....." "You're not *worried* about Janette, are you?" "Well, she is a vampire, Penny...." "Yeah, well, LaCroix will handle Janette I imagine, if the need arises." "I meant to ask you," Penny began, "exactly why did you feel the need to paint these things black? I mean, they're *Roman* soldiers. It's not as if people wouldn't get it." "Have you ever seen LaCroix in anything but black?" "*Seen*, no, but I feel safe in saying that his birthday suit is not black..." "What are you, a closet Nunkie? Let's just put a few more of these things around in the drawers, and get outta here." The two women moved onto another room. -Continued in Second Post- Title: Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy 02/02 by: L.L.and Penny, with some ideas from many others! Special thanks to Jessica for the "donation"..... Cast: Of Thousands! Place: The Raven Time: 12:15am Saturday 5/2 - 1:15 am Saturday 5/2 After: The Ultimatum, by Bonnie Rutledge All people and characters within were sanctioned by the appropriate parties. Raven Prank sanctioned by RedPrints, leader of the Ravenettes. ************************* The Raven Bar, continuous NuitCoeur wandered slowly over to the table of Knighties. At this point, they were having a high old time. Literally. Bradley sat there in his black trench coat, sipping a glass of Cabernet; French, of course, from the C=F4tes du Rh=F4ne region. Beckers sat to his left, Jenn to his right. San= dra was sitting in between Beckers and Jenn. The foursome was laughing over some old joke that one of them heard on the 'net. Nuit just rolled her eyes. Knighties could be so.....well, naive. Nuit, a smile plastered upon her face, walked up to the table, "Hi gang, how's it going?" =46our pairs of eyes narrowed, in a wasted effort to focus. Nuit leaned a hand on Bradley's shoulder, he just looked at her. "You're a......Cousin, aren't you?" Beckers asked. "Yeah, but tonight's a party for all the factions, and well, I just thought I'd be friendly-like, you know. Peace for an evening. Happiness, joy...." Inwardly Nuit was thinking about tossing her cookies, but she kept the smile plastered on her face. "Yes," Sandra cooed, "Peace from the war, for a night...." Yeah, these Knighties were as good as gone. Still smiling, Nuit deftly dropped a little black Roman soldier into Bradley's pocket, one into Jenn's drink, another under Sandra's purse, and yet another under Becker's napkin. "Well, you all have a pleasant evening, and uh, don't let anything bite.= ..." Nuit wandered off, and the Knighties breathed a sigh of relief. Even at a party, Cousins could give Knighties a case of the heebie jeebies. Across the room, Jessica was playing about the same game with the Light Cousins, Alison and Brandi. "Rumour has it," Jessica drawled, a special fruity looking drink in her hand, "that it's your birthday tonight, Alison." Alison, already feeling the effects of the 'General's Cheer', nodded giddily= . Jessica continued as she set the drink down in front of Alison, "Here, this is a special birthday drink from all of us Cousins. I hope you like it, and be sure to drink it all the way down to the bottom. You never know, there might be a special surprise down there...." "Surprise?" Alison asked, her voice already a bit slurred. "Yeah, a special happy birthday, from the General...." Jessica turned toward Brandi, who was wearing a beautiful hunter green velvet gown, "My, your hair is just gorgeous." "I'm glad you like it," Brandi replied smiling, "it was a bear to pull back like this..." "Yes," Jessica cooed, reaching around to plant a little Roman soldier glued to a hair pin, in the end of Brandi's hair, "it is so long, and really pretty." Jessica smiled at her easy prey. She hoped it was going as smoothly in the back rooms.... *********************** Janette's Office, continuous Penny and Lesley were going through every drawer, cabinet, cupboard and possible crevice in Janette's office. Thus far, they had been blissfully undisturbed; however, their luck was about to change..... "Just what do you two think you're doing?" Penny and Lesley froze at the voice, and quickly turned toward the door. The UFer, Julia, stood there, with her hands on her hips, looking as though she were about to order around an entire Russian Opera Company. "Well? What are you doing?" Penny, ever sarcastic, sniped, "What does it look like? We ain't whistlin' Dixie...." "Lesley," Julia started, "I'd expect this kind of thing from a Dark Knightie spy, but I'm surprised that you'd stoop to this; especially after the Ravenettes were kind enough to open the Raven up for an all faction party....." "Julia, we've got to find the notebook before the Knighties do......" "How could you even have chosen sides? I know you're a Cousin, but you're an UFer too!" "Think about it, Julia. If Nick gets the cure, what will that do to any relationship he currently has with LaCroix?" Julia took the point, but was unmoved at the methods. "Still, you shouldn't be poking around in Janette's office." Penny piped up, "Okay, how much?" "How much, what?" Julia asked. "We're kinda short of time here. How much for your silence?" "My silence?.....hmm....." Julia was thinking. Then it hit her. "Okay," Julia offered, "I won't breathe a word of this, under one condition." "And that would be?" Lesley asked. "You, Lesley, will be a guest on my opera show." Lesley grinned; the idea of being a guest on an opera radio show was a rather fun one. That was hardly a punishment.... "A guest? Sounds like --" "--Of course, there is a slight, teeny, little catch," Julia continued. "Your job will be to handle any and all of the lunatics who call in, to bring me coffee and to just be the all around gopher for the evening." "Oh." Lesley was deflated. From opera guest to guest flunky in a matter of seconds. Ah well, all for a good cause... "Fine, fine. Whatever you want...." "We are agreed then?" Julia wanted to be sure. "Yes, yes, we are agreed. I'll handle the wackos." Julia just smiled. Some days the Gods just smiled upon opera management; heaven knows, the singers almost never did.... ************************ The Raven bar area, continuous Jessica sauntered near the table of Die Hards, and the one Diviant who had joined them. Jessica smiled at them. "Well, if it isn't the Die Hards. What's cookin' tonight?" Beth piped up, "This iced tea is *great*, I don't know how they make it here at the Raven, but it's just *great*." Yep, downright cheery. Jessica smiled, "Yes, I've heard it's *quite* good." Jessica easily slipped a black Roman soldier into Beth's leather jacket pocket, all the while, smiling. "You Cousins have sure been quiet tonight," Jessica M. commented, "that's.....unusual." Cousin Jessica slipped a Roman soldier into Die Hard Jessica's Australian Dover Coat, as she spoke to her, "We're kinda tired tonight. The war and all...." Cousin Jessica couldn't tell what Die Hard Jessica was thinking, as she couldn't see behind the latter's dark sunglasses. The Cousin looked to the other Die Hard at the table, Laura. "Is that an amaretto sour?" "Best danged one I've ever had," Laura replied, smiling. "Can I smell it? I just love the smell of these things..." Laura nodded, so Jessica picked it up, and as she brought it up to her face, she let the Roman soldier clutched in her hand slip out, into the drink. "Wow," Jessica said as she put the drink down, "that smells so good, it almost makes me want one." Then she turned to the Diviant, "I'm afraid I don't know you, you're a Diviant though, aren't you?" Green Eye nodded, "Yeah, you can call me Green Eye." Jessica looked into her glass, "Pepsi, huh?" "Better than coke....." Jessica smiled and quietly slid a Roman soldier under Green Eye's purse..... On the other side of the room, NuitCoeur was as smooth as ever. She was actually *sitting* at a table with the Nick&Nat Pack, and a Dark Perk, June. "......the farmer's wife said, 'I don't know what's with the pigs, but they're all piled into the truck, and one of 'em's honkin' the horn!'," Nuit delivered the punchline with great aplomb. The table burst into laughter. Nuit seized the moment, and slid a Roman soldier into June's extra strong coffee, and another into Bubbles' Ribena. The only one at the table that Nuit really had to worry about, was the N&N Pack's Security Chief, Lisa. "I haven't heard that one in a long time, Nuit," Lisa said. "I have to admit, I really never think of humour and Cousins in the same sentence." Nuit smiled smoothly, "Yes, well, it's our little secret now, isn't it?= " "Apparently," came the cool reply. Lisa didn't trust these Cousins. Dianne, drinking a big Texas Margarita, and looking very bright in her red silk blouse was positively beaming. "I think this is a wonderful party," Dianne offered, "as a matter of fact, I think I'm gonna have another margarita." Dianne waved to a waitress, who walked right on by. "Sometimes the service is a little goofy here," Bubbles complained. "You can say that again," Nuit agreed, as she slid a Roman soldier into Dianne's purse. Lisa was eying Nuit. She wasn't sure, but she thought she had seen Nuit trying to get into Dianne's purse. Why was her mind so foggy? While Lisa was contemplating the fog, Nuit seized the opportunity to attach a soldier glued to a clothespin, to the bottom of Lisa's jacket. A tagging we will go.... ************************ Janette's Office, continuous Penny was digging through Janette's trash can when she saw it. A small, white piece of paper, mostly burned. She picked it out of the trash ever so carefully, and placed it gingerly on the desk. "Lesley, come here, I've got something." Noting the excited tone of Penny's voice, Lesley set down the lamp she was inspecting, and came over to the desk. "What've you got?" In answer, Penny showed her the note. It was Janette's personal stationary, but most of it was too burned to make out; however, they could read the name to whom the note was addressed. They stared at each other in astonishment. Penny whispered, "What do you think this means?" *********************** Raven Bar, continuous Nuit and Jessica met in the middle of the bar. "Whew, I'm pooped," Jessica commented. "You said it. I'm sick of leaving these things all over creation. Where have you left them, outside of the faction tags?" "Glued down in the bathroom, dance floor, some behind the bar. They're everywhere. No one could possibly miss seeing the damn things, and they're gonna have a helluva time prying them off the surfaces they're glued to." "I left a few in the Soundbooth, we wouldn't want the Unnamed to feel left out; I also hung a few from the lights." The two Cousins smiled. They heard a loud, uproarious round of laughter. And then they saw them: Vaqueras! "Did you get them?" "Not me, I'm not going near the Vaq's; I'm afraid after what they did to LaCroix tonight, I might become....violent." Jessica complained. "Death would be a fitting punishment for turning LaCroix into a.....a.... Chipmunk." "Not to mention the Barney song.....They didn't even try to cover up the fact that they did it; announcing it the way the did here at the Raven," Jessica added. Nuit put her best Cousinly smile on her face, "Come on, let's both handle the Vaq's." Together, they approached a table of rather boisterous, party-hardy Vaqs. A couple of them still clad in their Mission Impossible gear from the mayhem they committed earlier in the evening. Nafs, one of the M.I. garbed, smiled as Nuit and Jessica approached the table, "Hey Cousins, wanna party?" All the Vaqs laughed, the idea of Cousins actually joining them, never crossing their minds. "Don't mind if we do," Nuit said, sliding into a chair. "I love to party," Jessica said, sitting down next to Tabitha. Tabitha glared and inched her chair over, away from the Cousin. "It *was* a nice party," Tabitha muttered. "What's with the Mission Impossible get-ups?" Nuit asked coyly, as she slid a Roman soldier smothered in superglue into Naf's toolbelt. "Just a little job we handled earlier, nothing for you two *Cousins* to concern yourselves with..." Marilyn replied smoothly. The rest of the Vaqs were stifling their giggles and amused looks. "Really," Jessica drawled, "That sounds.....intriguing," Jessica said, trying not to let them know they were on to them. "Well," Javiette said, as she slammed her boots up on the table, "I'm afraid we're not in the.....sharing mood just now...." Javiette smiled, as she realized that her boots were clearly annoying the Cousins. Nuit muttered, "I *hate* feet...." "Especially feet up on a table...." added Jessica. Just then, an idea hit Jessica, and while the Vaqs and Nuit were verbally sparring, she was digging into her purse. She found it, finally, at the bottom. Discreetly, she opened the super glue tube and applied a tiny amount to the side of a black Roman soldier. Eying Javiette's boots, Jessica began petting the leather, "Wow, these are fabulous. Where did you get them?" Javiette never felt it, but her boots now sported a little black alloy Roman soldier. Forever LaCroix...... ********************* Exactly one-half hour after they disappeared into the bowels of the Raven, Lesley and Penny emerged. They spied Nuit and Jessica at a table of Vaqs, all of them laughing rather heartily. "That's odd," Penny commented, "why are Jessica and Nuit wearing napkins on their heads?" All Penny heard was a groan from Lesley. Obviously the two Cousins were sharing Tequila with the Vaqs. *Spiked* tequila. "I suspicion," Lesley stated, "that Jessica and Nuit are now victims of the 'General's Cheer'." "Think we should just leave them here?" "No choice," Lesley said, "we've got to get back to CERK and speak to LaCroix. The note, and more importantly, the name we just found on it, can't wait." "You're right. I just hate leaving those two in the hands of the Vaqs.= " "They won't hurt 'em, just get 'em a little tipsy is all....That reminds me, did you hear about the attack at CERK earlier today?" "Attack, what attack?" She asked innocently. "Somebody hooked up a VCR that had some oatmeal commercial looped on it. Apparently the actor in it's a dead ringer for the General." Penny's amusement was clearly lost on her friend. Lesley continued, "The worst part is that when LaCroix tried to get into his studio, the door had garlic on it, and the lock was glued. Rumour has it, he was so p.o.'d that he ripped the door right off the hinges..." "Really....imagine that...." "The CD player had some nasty seventies song on it too....." Lesley's voice trailed off as she looked at Penny. Bad 70's tunes....hmm...= nah. "Any idea who the perp is?" Penny asked, creative innocence dripping off her vocal chords. "Not yet, at least not to my knowledge. I don't envy the poor slob when LaCroix finds out though. He might just turn the idjit into a headless bunny or something and donate the body to the Dark Perks." "Yeah, I don't envy 'em either," Penny said covering, "We'd better go. We've got to get the General up to speed on this note, not to mention the comings and goings of people I saw at the Raven last night." "You mean what the Good Church of Elvis saw, don't you?" "Don't mock me. *You* can be replaced." "Yeah, yeah, I know, sopranos are a dime a dozen...." ************************************************************************ Title: A Tisket, A Tasket.... by L.L. and Penny Place: CERK Time: Saturday 5/2, 2am After: Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy All used within were sanctioned, including LaCroix! It was late, and they were tired. Penny flopped on a couch in the lobby of CERK, yanking her pumps off of her feet, and tossing them into the corner. "These things'll kill ya, if nothin' else ever does." The halls of CERK were quiet, which was not really that surprising, considering the little bomb LaCroix had dropped on everyone's head at the Raven. "Let's go get this report over with," Lesley suggested, "I'm pooped!" "Yeah, you're right. No time like the present," Penny agreed. The two friends walked down the hallway, heading toward LaCroix' office. As they passed the studio, they took stock of the missing door. "Whoosh," Lesley exclaimed, "looks like the General was one raging bull. Guess the rumours were all true." Lesley didn't notice how carefully Penny was examining the mess, or she might have found her friend's interest to be a little more than just 'passing'. "If I were the one who did this," Penny said innocently, "I think I'd be heading out of town about now." They walked the rest of the hallway in silence. The door to LaCroix' office was closed. A fairly ominous sign, on any night, much less this one. "Maybe we should just do this tomorrow," Lesley offered, wishing she were almost anywhere but there. "It *is* tomorrow, fluff head, besides, he won't bite...." They looked at each other and laughed. He damn well *could* bite, if he wanted to! Lesley knocked softly on the door. There was no answer. She tentatively knocked again. No answer. As Lesley went to knock a third time, Penny shoved her out of the way, and banged on the door. Lesley just stared at Penny, silently considering her friend's sanity. "What?" Penny asked, incredulously, "You want the man to answer the door, you gotta make sure he hears it." "As if LaCroix would have trouble hearing this conversation if he wanted to, much less a knock at the door," Lesley muttered. The door flew open, catching both women a little off guard. LaCroix' eyes were their normal ice blue, but there was a slight fury in them. Exactly why, neither Lesley nor Penny could tell. No one said anything for a moment. LaCroix stared at the two women, and they stared back. He wasn't going to make this easy, for some reason. Finally, Lesley spoke, "We, um, came to catch you up on our recent.....activities." LaCroix stared icily, "Really? How nice for you." He was as immovable as a statue. "Do you mind if we come in and sit down," Penny asked, "my feet are killing me...." Lesley just glared at Penny, who shrugged. LaCroix suddenly got his shark grin on his face, and he stepped aside, sweeping his arm in the doorway. "What's mine is yours, of course. Do come in." The two ladies walked past the ancient one, and took the two chairs on the opposite side of his desk. LaCroix closed the door, and then sat at his desk, leaning back in his chair, his fingers steepled together. Another round of stares ensued. "If you've got something to say, my dear, by all means, say it." "Yes, well, as you know, Penny staked out the Raven's entrance both last night and tonight, to track comings and goings......" Penny broke in, pulling some pictures out of the bag she was carrying, as she spoke, "Here are some stills that we had developed. As you can see," she handed the pictures to the General, "they're taken from the vantage point across the street, but it's a clear shot at the Raven's entrance." LaCroix raised an eyebrow as he looked through the pictures, "These are....shall we say, rather interesting......" Penny smiled. A job well done, and with any luck, if LaCroix ever figured out that she was the one who made a mess of his studio, maybe he wouldn't kill her.........but then, he was smiling at her. Well, it was LaCroix' version of a smile, at any rate. He obviously didn't have a clue to her duplicity in the situation. A slightly smug smile grew upon Penny's face. LaCroix pulled two pictures from the stack that Penny had handed him, "Now, just what do you suppose dear little Tracy Vetter was doing at the Raven last night, hmmm?" "We haven't been able to ascertain that yet, sir, but we're working on it," Penny supplied. "Indeed," LaCroix drawled as he looked at the DK Spy, "and this picture of Nicholas?" "Same, I'm afraid," Penny continued, "Caught both of them clear as a bell going into the Raven. It was a few hours apart, though, so whatever they both were doing there, I don't think they were doing it together." LaCroix looked almost gleeful, "Somehow, my dear Ms. Thomas, I can't quite picture Tracy and Nicholas doing....anything together. Which is a blessing." "Kinda gives ya the perky creeps, doesn't it?" Lesley added. "Yes.....now tell me, what else have you two uncovered, anything?" Lesley's turn for the discourse, "The little prank went fine at the Raven, though several people were long gone by the time we got there...." "Yes, you were late," LaCroix interjected, then smiled, "I almost took it personally....." The sarcasm was not lost on either of the women. "It, ah, won't happen again, General," Lesley vowed, "you have my word on it." "See that it does not, Ms. Leighton." He paused for the effect, then he leaned back in his chair, allowing his fingers to steeple once more. "Please, do continue." Lesley took a breath, "Well, as you asked us to do, we searched the Raven for the notes, and we didn't find them; however, we did find this...." She handed LaCroix the burnt note that Penny discovered in Janette's office. He looked at it and frowned. "Where did you find this?" "In Janette's office," Penny answered, "it was in the trash can." "Indeed," LaCroix answered, "hmmmm......too bad most of it is burnt." "Yes, but the addressee of the note is quite visible, as is Janette's signature." LaCroix read what was still on the note: "Aristotle, I am of the opinion______________________________ You_____ __________this must happen no___________________________Contact me_____ _____________to keep this a______________. Janette" LaCroix pursed his lips, "The question ladies, is, if Janette sent this to Aristotle, who is still amongst the missing, how, pray tell, did it end up in Janette's trash can?" "If we knew the answer to that," Penny quipped, "then we'd probably know the answer to the question 'where are the notes'." "Don't get cheeky, Ms. Thomas, it is most unbecoming." Penny just snorted derisively, as she and Lesley stood up to go. LaCroix stood up as well, and came around the front side of the desk. He stood in front of Lesley, and put his hand on her shoulder, she almost jumped at his ice cold touch. "A job well done tonight. I take it that a 'calling card' of some fashion was left at the Raven?" Lesley nodded, and LaCroix said, "Good. I do so appreciate work that is executed well." He kissed her on the forehead. "Go home, get some rest, I dare say you've earned it." Penny stuck her hand out to shake his, "Well, guess we'll see you again, when we have more to report." LaCroix smiled as he took Penny's hand, "I'm afraid, Ms. Thomas, that I am not quite.....done with you just yet." Penny and Lesley exchanged a fast look - what was up with this? Lesley hesitated a tad too long, and the General wasted no time in letter her know. "Lesley, go home. I have business with Penny. *Private* business....." "O....okay," Lesley stammered. As she closed the door to the office, the last thing Lesley saw were Penny's eyes. And for the first time since the two women met, Lesley saw fear register in them. Fin But It Is...Revenge (1/1) By Bonnie Rutledge Starring: Penny Thomas, Lesley, and LaCroix Time: After 2am, after 'Blackmail: They Twisted My Arm, They Did!' and 'A Tisket, A Tasket...' Once Lesley shut the door, the General eyed LaCroix coolly for several moments, then, seeming to come to a decision, annouced, "There's something I want in my penthouse, if you wouldn't mind accompanying me." Penny opened the office door herself, welcoming the expanse of the hall. "That's fine with me." He joined her, then gestured in the direction of the private elevator. "After you." Penny, being the master spy of the circle of Dark Knight Cousins, played it cool. "What's on your mind, General?" The lift doors closed, sequestering them in the small cubicle. "Oh...station security..." LaCroix murmured. "We've had several more attacks tonight, two of them in my sound booth." "You don't say?" Butter wouldn't melt in her mouth. "Indeed...they were rather clever plans of sabotage...quite annoying, actually." "Do you have any idea who was behind the attacks?" Penny asked, trying to appear genuinely helpful. "Yes, I do." The elevator doors opened. LaCroix gestured for Penny to exit first. "The Vaqueros." "Oh." Feeling somewhat smug, Penny stepped into the penthouse. "What are you going to do about them?" The penthouse was still in a shambles from the rat attack. Many pieces of furniture had been sent out for repair or cleaning, but the carpet had yet to be replaced. A faint, unpleasant smell still lingered in the air. "I'd like you to head up a revenge attack, Penny. I believe such a project will put your skills to *good* use," LaCroix said. "I'd be honored to," Penny accepted. "I look forward to the challenge." "Excellent. Now...let us talk about...oatmeal." Penny became wary. "Excuse me?" "Pina coladas and walks in the rain..." "Are you talking about another raid?" Penny asked innocently, her expression subtly implying that LaCroix's behavior was inexplicably strange. "Yes," LaCroix hissed, his eyes glowing golden. "Another attack...one which the station's video cameras captured *you* committing." "I can explain that - the Dark Perks blackmailed me!" Penny argued. "They forced me to do it!" "Really?" LaCroix said, his hands behind his back. Penny nodded confidently. "I didn't have a choice in the matter." "That may be...but if you are going to do the crime, you had better not get caught unless you want to pay a price. Don't worry. I'll send someone to retrieve you in a few hours." In a flash, LaCroix seized the Dark Maestro's hands. Before she could blink, Penny found herself sinking into something warm and mushy. Her arms were stretched upward, and there were clicking sounds. Finally catching sight of her surroundings, Penny saw that she was in the bathroom, handcuffed to the fixtures of the bathtub. Looking down, she found herself submerged up to her chin, but the tub wasn't full of water. LaCroix leaned down, scooping up a lump on his finger. "Yes, you've guessed right, Dark Maestro." The vampire dabbed the tip of Penny's nose with the goop. "It *is* oatmeal." ************************************************************************ Fin for now... "Late Entrys Can Be Entertaining" By Patt Elmore When: Friday night/Saturday morning. Where: tunnels and Raven ********************************* "Patsum? We have a problem." Caren and Patt had been waiting in silence for the return of Tser and Jesse. Secretly, Patt had given up hope of seeing her friends again, suspecting that LaCroix had slapped them in dungeon cells for being buddies with the Third Cousin, or pilfering CERK food, or both, or none of the above. Perhaps Jess and Tser were just romping around the station, playing with the controls and collecting pink ratsie pets. Who knew? Patt looked over at the other Louisianan. From Caren's pinched expression, Patt surmised that waiting was no longer an option. "I'll leave them a note," Patt said, pointing her can of spray toward the wall. She quickly rendered a Micky Mouse caricature holding its nose with a hand pointing upward. "Come on, Cae. Let's move out and find a verticle tunnel." The two addicts began walking back down the section they'd recently passed through, remembering a juncture some meters back. Hopefully, one of the other passages leading off the juncture would take them into the sewers proper, and one of the wall ladders which lead to the manholes above. Without the glowing rat, going was slowed. Patt and Caren carefully felt their way along the dirt walls, touching things which felt odd in the darkness. They arrived at the juncture and turned left, their progress slowed further by now complete unfamiliarity with their surroundings. The tunnel sloped abruptly, and Caren yelped as her head impacted with the ceiling. "Duck." Caren advised, rubbing her bruised forehead. "Goose." Patt loved word games, especially when they took her mind off of other stuff and/or were used to keep her awake on long road trips. "Do it and die." "Live and let live." "Shut up." "Closed off." "SHUT UP!!" Silence. They stooped and continued walking, noting that the smell was changing. Here, the air was foul, stagnant. It was even worse when they stepped into nothingness. "AAAHHHHH!" Caren plummeted downward, and Patt, unable to stop, toppled after her. *Thud* *Thud* "OOMFFF!" Silence. "Where are we?" "Probably a sink hole in one of the main sewer lines," Patt said, feeling around. The area felt sodden and sticky. Little scuffling noises without a friendly glow were present. The addicts stood up, feeling for the wall of the cavern. In a moment, Caren cried in exultation. "Found it!" Indeed, Caren had located an iron ladder bolted to the side of the chamber. In a moment, both women were scrambling up the rungs. Soon, fresh air was replacing the rancid aroma of below. *Clunk* "Ouch!" Caren stopped and waited for Patt to begin moving again. The Third Cousin reached up and pushed at the metal covering, but it was reluctant to give. Carefully, Caren climbed further up the ladder, adding her strength to the effort, but to no avail. "What now?" Caren panted. She could see lights through the manhole cover and hear the noises of a world she desperately (and I mean *desperately*) wanted to reenter. "Hello?" A familiar voice spoke from above. "Hello? Jesse? Is that you?" Patt cried upward. No human voice answered, only some scraping of metal and, suddenly, night was above them rather than the cover. Patt and Caren scrambled out of the sewer access and the general hugging began. Then the scolding, and more hugging and then Caren announcing that if anyone hugged her again, they'd be sorry. Not because she didn't love them, but because of the situation which had prompted the need for this crawl out in the first place. A quick scan of the neighborhood indicated a lack of available facilities. All the buildings were dark, save one. The Raven. In fact, the infamous Toronto landmark was a hubbub of activity. Automobiles of class, vehicles of oddity and several motorcycles were parked within walking distance of the nightclub, indicating some sort of party was going on. As the addicts watched, several Knighties drove up and entered the premises. "This doesn't look like a really safe situation to me," Patt said. "Doesn't matter," Caren replied, heading across the street toward Raven. "This is a have-to situation." "Okay . . . but be careful," Patt called out. Caren turned, waved and disappeared into the club. *************************** Inside, the music was loud, as usual, and the activity was of feverish pitch. Most factions seemed to have representatives present. As a newbie, Caren knew few of them and, likewise, few of them knew her. The dark-haired Louisianan glided as unobtrusively as she could around the perimeter of the crowd, locating the ladies room as quickly as she could. Inside the pristine powder room, Caren refreshed herself and then prepared to leave. As she did, a tall woman entered. The woman was elegantly dressed and, upon seeing Caren's tunnel attire, sniffed slightly. Caren offered the woman a radiant smile and said, "Retro grunge. Don't worry, dear, you'll catch up with the latest trends soon enough." "Hmmppff," the woman replied, carefully patting her blonde hair into place and flexing her lips to check for streaks. Caren turned to leave, but stopped when the woman spoke. "Don't forget your bag, dear." Caren turned. The woman inclined her head toward a beige purse which had been left on the counter. "It's not mine," Caren replied, heading toward the door. "But it has to be," the tall woman said smugly. "No one else is doing Retro grunge tonight." Before Caren could reply, the woman whisked from the room to rejoin the party. Caren started to leave too, but the thought of leaving the bag for someone to find and pilfer with went against her good will sensibilities. So Caren picked up the bag, planning to take it to the Lost and Found desk. Then, she realized that she could simply find the owner and return it herself, and know for sure that no one would later associate her with possible purse theft, should the blonde have a good memory. So, Caren looked inside the bag, found the owner's wallet and discovered that the owner of the purse was Detective Tracy Vetter. Caren tried to return the purse, only to be stopped by several opposing faction members who didn't want Caren anywhere near Tracy Vetter. Mortified and hurt that her good-deed had been misinterpreted as a possible prelude to attack, Caren headed for Lost and Found again. Then, a thought occurred. If she was to be blamed for misdeed, she might as well perpetrate. Caren, eyes glowing fiendishly, slipped into Janette's office and accessed her personal internet account with the vampire's system. She quickly located the web site she sought and pressed the 'print' button. The pop-up screen inquired 'all?' and Caren pushed [yes]. Then she sat back to wait as page after page began printing. ***************************** "How long has she been gone?" Patt asked for the tenth time. For the tenth time, Tser and Jesse shrugged. "Shouldn't she have been back by now?" Shrugs and muttered words of different time spans involved for different people. "You two stay here," Patt said, heading, against her best judgement, for the Raven. "I'll go check on her." *************************** Patt, of course, recognized many of the people within. Since she didn't want those people to see her, she kept in the shadows as much as possible and worked her way toward the ladies room. "Ahem." Patt turned and found herself face to face with former Cousinly leader, Celeste. At seeing the woman, Patt broke into a smile. Celeste didn't smile so quickly. "What are you up to?" Once a Cousinly leader . . . "Nothing." Patt replied, crestfallen. "No odd attachments this time around?" Patt shook her head, not wishing to discuss Spark. "No food fights or mustard packs?" Patt continued shaking her head. "No bar fights?" Patt tried to stifle a grin, but it came through anyway. "Well, that's a relief," Celeste smiled. "I was beginning to think you had bored out on us." The East Coast woman's accent always tickled Patt, so the Third Cousin continued to smile. "I'd love to stay and chat, but I have to find a lost McLisa. You haven't seen her anywhere, have you?" Celeste was obviously concerned and Patt hated to respond negatively. "Oh, well. Keep your eyes open and signal to me if you do." The Step- Cousine moved away, whispering "kitty, kitty." That's when Patt sighted Laura. ********************************* The printer died as it spit out the last of a full ream of paper. Caren quickly slipped the stack into Tracy's bag and headed toward the Raven's entrance. That's when Patt caught her arm. "Where have you been and what took you so long?" Patt scolded in a low voice. Caren responded with a grin. "Doing a good deed. I have to give this purse to Lost and Found and then I'll be right with you." As Caren turned, there was a general activity at the door, a number of yelps, quite a few gasps and other sounds covering the emotions from fear to rejoicing. Patt looked over a few heads by standing on a chair, and almost broke her neck trying to get down again. GHP Laurie had arrived at CERK. "Ack! She's escaped," Patt dropped from the chair and grabbed a started Caren. "Forget the purse. We have to get the heck out of here before War 10 starts." Caren dropped the purse on the desk of a Ravenette, who looked at the bag in distaste and waved to a waiter to have it removed. The purse finally found its way back into Tracy Vetter's possession. In the meantime, Patt and Caren were trying to remove themselves. The front exit was blocked by the GHP's arrival, so the back exit seemed the best bet. Problem was, too many noticing eyes along the escape route. Enter Step-Cousin Celeste, still searching for the wayward McLisa. Patt clasped the startled woman's hand, eyes pleading. "Cover my butt." "Excuse me," Celeste looked down, afraid. "Literally--cover my butt." Pulling Caren along, Patt stooped and shielded herself in the fold's of the Step-Cousine's skirt and, walking on a parallel course with Celeste, Patt and Caren made their escape, virtually unobserved. ****************************************** patt79ad@juno.com Title: It's Nae Toga Party Time: during the party at the Raven, i.e. sometime between 11PM Friday and 2AM Saturday (beacuse we're fashionably late ) Place: The Shrine, The Raven Written by Kusine, with help from many people, especially Glennis Beta-read by Glennis, Wayne, and Mary Everyone used with permission: Thanks! ********************************** Kusine checked herself one last time in the mirror. Deep purple dress with silver glitter along the bottom: check. Hair gracefully swept up and held with antique ebony sticks: check. Knee-high black leather boots with thick two-inch heels: check. A light dusting of make-up: check. Silver-and-garnet earrings and necklace: check. No panty-lines: check. Dress was *not* tucked up anywhere inappropriately: check. Money, passport, car keys: check, check, and check. She was ready to go. Grabbing her black leather backpack from the bed, she left her sleeping chamber and locked the door. Striding down the hall with confidence that came of believing that she looked darned good, Kusine arrived at Glennis' door just as it opened. Glennis looked equally as stunning: black silk trousers, a silk shirt the same deep blue as her eyes, gold jewelry, and non-sensible shoes of which the Scribe would very likely approve. Her curly blonde hair, however, was still as tousled as ever. "You look great," Kusine told her friend, "But aren't you going to comb your hair?" "It *is* combed," Glennis replied, a nasty tone in her voice. "Why do you have chopsticks on your head?" "Point taken," Kusine said, and backed away as Glennis closed and locked her door. "I'm the pot, you're the kettle. We really shouldn't be discussing colors." Glennis stared briefly at the other addict, then shrugged and headed down the hall for the main room. Kusine, after a confused moment, followed. Glennis stopped in the middle of the room and looked around. "We're ready to go party at the Raven!" she announced. "Who wants a ride?" Beth jumped up from her spot on a divan where she had been gazing raptly at a Nunkies tapestry. Her dark blue velvet dress with dress with a forest green harmonized nicely with the colors of the tapestry with which she had been entranced. "Me!" she declared. Sherry poked her head around a pillar. "Me, too!" she said, all suave-looking in a black tailored pants-suit with a peach satin blouse. There was the sound of skittering, then Sukh suddenly rounded the corner from the sleeping chambers. Her long black dress trailed behind her as she slid across the tiled floor on her stiletto heels. //She would fit right in with the Ravenettes, if it were only a matter of wardrobe... // Kusine thought. //Maybe she could infiltrate and spy...// "Am I too late?" she asked, finally sliding to a stop. "For joining the Ravenettes, yes," Glennis said. "But not for a ride to the bash." "All right," Kusine said, dangling her car keys, "Let's saddle up!" They arrived at their destination with a minimum of fuss. Glennis and Sherry argued over who got the front seat, but Beth solved the argument by jumping in while they weren't paying attention. The other three piled in the back after a bit of grumbling, and they were off. They even found a parking spot close by, checking very carefully that they were allowed to park there (if Schanke had gotten a ticket, and he was a cop, there was no way they wouldn't!!). The Raven was crowded when they walked in, but they managed to find a booth against the back wall. Sukh declared it the ideal location: central to the important places: the bar, the dance floor, and the restrooms. It was, for that same reason, an ideal place to people-watch. Glennis scooted to the back of the round booth, and Sherry and Beth slid in on either side of her. Sukh took one look at the dance floor and was off to dance, only pausing to give a drink order. Kusine collected the other orders and pushed through the crowd to the bar. "Bloody Mary, peach schnapps on ice, an ameretto sour, a peach brandy, and a Diet Coke," Kusine told the bartender. She turned her back to the bar and looked around, sighting for anyone she recognized. Down at one end of the bar, she saw someone in an atrocious suit, like something out of "Saturday Night Fever." The man turned around, and Kusine recognized Louis Cabon, the maitre de of the Jeweled Peach. Snickering under her breath, Kusine paid the bartender (she also realized, at the same time, that she had forgotten to collect money from the other addicts to pay for the five drinks; she was now bereft of cash). She headed back to the table, very carefully carrying the drinks. Suddenly, she was nudged from behind and Glennis' Bloody Mary went flying. Watching as if in slow motion, Kusine saw the glass twist through the air and fall, its contents splashing onto the combat boots of a tall, blonde young woman. "Oh, I'm so--!" Kusine began, then stopped as the woman turned around and she recognized Mary, the godmother of the Dark Perks. Kusine grinned. "Oops." "'Oops'?!" the irate DP leader seethed. "No apologies for your idiotic clumsiness?! Just 'oops'?!" "Well..." Kusine said, considering, "I'm sorry I got it on your *shoes*. Had I done it on purpose, I would have aimed a bit higher." Mary narrowed her eyes and took a menacing step toward her. Kusine decided that, since the woman was nearly a foot taller, as well as surrounded by her Thugs, discretion was the better part of valor; she slipped between two nearby, conviently bulky people and disappeared into the crowd. "Hi," she said, returning to the table and passing out the drinks. "I had a bit of an accident with your drink, Glennis, and I didn't have enough money to get another." "I'll go get you one," Sherry volunteered, then drained her drink in one long gulp. "Oh, dear," Beth said. "This is going to be a *long* party, Isn't it?" They all grinned at each other. Kusine reached into her bag and passed out the chocolate Nunkies pops. *Now* the party could begin. ************************** Kusine. === cerk@rocketmail.com - NA Forever! FK Fan Fic writing resources at: http://home.earthlink.net/~kusine/ DP/NA: Reunion By: Patt Elmore (with Laura Griffin) Time: Friday night at the Raven Patt wasn't exactly sure how to approach the woman standing across the room. Wasn't sure how the reception would be, if indeed a greeting would be rendered. Laura looked up at that moment, taking a quick scan of the room. She glanced toward the wall and locked eyes with the mature addict. "Just passing through," Patt said, prepared to just keep moving in her search for Caren. As she did, Laura coughed. Patt turned, now face to face with the reddish blonde Californian. "How have things been, Patt?" Laura said casually. "Enjoying the War so far?" Patt had to chuckle. "Just a walk in the woods, Laura. The deep, dark woods." "So," Laura said, lifting her club soda to her lips, her eyes twinkling. "Swung any good beer bottles this trip?" "Only at some wayward Vaqueras," Patt grinned back. "Have time to share a drink at the bar, for old time's sake?" Cautious, Patt nodded and took an adjoining seat at the bar. When the attendant walked up, Laura spoke before Patt could order. "Beer--longneck. And don't make it lite." The DP turned and grinned at her former drinking companion. "My treat." Patt leaned back, amused. "You've got a good memory." "Yup," Laura said reflectively. "An excellent one." This caused the conversation to lapse into a period of silence while the two former faction mates assessed how the War had taken it's tole on the other. To Patt, Laura looked tired. The blonde woman who had recently changed her major affiliation from Nunkies Addict to Dark Perkiness still had a manner of impish shadow, but it did not seem lethal at the moment. To Laura, Patt appeared war weary and perhaps a bit frazzled...not unlike the last time they'd spent time together belly up to a bar! Neither of them spoke as a second round was served, both reluctant to broach the subject which weighed heaviest on their minds. Instead, light chatter, good memories and the arts seemed better topics to stay on. "So, how is John-Travis?" Patt knew that discussing her son was one of Laura's favorite pasttimes. At the mention of his name, Laura *perked* up immediately. "He's great! He's been working hard at the acting thing and just won an award for Best Performance at his high school. He's learning the harmonica and playing the blues! He made the trip to Toronto, of course. When he found out about the war, he wasn't about to miss a chance to see Tracy again. He's a bonafied DP these days. He's somewhere around here, probably flirting with Tracy or some other young thing!" "So how are Barney and Fred?" Laura smiled, for she knew she had mentioned the Third Cousin's favorite subject. Encouraged, Patt would talk about her doggy *children* for hours. "The boys?" Patt grinned widely, using facial muscles it seemed she hadn't used in weeks. "I suspect they're great. Barney is twelve years old--can you believe it? Fat, sassy and pretty much his Granny's dog now. Fred will be five in August, is still active in agility and is so feisty that Mom calls him 'Fireball.'" Patt's expression faded just a bit. "I miss them." "You didn't bring them with you to the War?" Laura asked, surprised a little. "Not enough room in the truck," Patt said, her tone gloomy. Laura wanted to pursue the conversation, but Patt's manner indicated it would be a fruitless effort. The talk slowed again, each woman accepting fresh drinks and taking full measures of them. As they drank, they surveyed the room, commenting on the people in attendance and non- secret War activities so far. "It's not going to be a secret long, if it still is, but some of our newbies got us involved with the mercenaries," Patt offered, noting several mercs sitting at a table across the room. "I guess we'll have to shore up the Shrine for an attack in the near future." "I know what you mean," Laura said, taking a long drink. "And I would have to agree with you that you're right about preparing for attack. You just never know what's going to happen next. Just yesterday, my pink Caddy was assaulted with..." Laura practically choked here, "frogs. The offenders are fortunate that they used fake ones. But then...you probably know all about the attack!" She looked at the mature addict with a raised eyebrow and a bit of a smirk. Patt laughed. "There have been some funny times, haven't there? I guess my favorite was when Caren was chasing Vachon around the church barnyard with a stray Canadian gander. She was bound and determined she was going to *goose* the guy. Which reminds me -- I better make sure those camels are returned, or the Vaqs will coming looking for them. "Well, I had to rescue one of our guys from the Nick and Nat Packers. Had help from some of the FoDs, too. Emily Weiss, the famous writer, picketed the theater. When Tracy came to arrest her, we got inside and accomplished the rescue. And then....well... I probably shouldn't mention this, but I don't suppose you've noticed the improvement to the sign at the radio station...?" "That was 'you?*" Patt said with grudging admiration. "And some of my friends," Laura sipped her bubbly drink and winked. "That was a good stunt, old buddy," Patt said admiringly. "Even the Cousins kind of liked it." "Speaking of Cousins," Laura smoothly segued into the subject she really wanted to talk about. "How is Uncle?" Patt had been expecting the question, though it was a topic she hadn't been looking forward to. Especially, considering her last encounter with the General. The Third Cousin shrugged. "LaCroix is LaCroix. Confident, secure, powerful, all-knowing, all-seeing, omnipotent, pain-in- the-ass LaCroix." "Oh my...Lucius." Laura exhaled longingly. She turned to Patt, her eyes sad. "I do miss him," she said ruefully. "Like I miss my friends." "You still consider us friends?" Patt was curious. "Of course," Laura said, finishing her drink and clinking the bottle down on the bar counter. "I feel very affectionate toward all my old addict buddies. After all, dear. Attack is just another form of affection." ****************************************** "Tunnel Vision" By Patt Elmore When: Saturday from wee hours until Sunday pre-dawn Where: Tunnels of Toronto and beyond ***************************** Patt and Caren hot-footed it down the alley and cut across the street to where Tser and Jesse stood waiting. "Well," Tser smiled. "You were quicker than usual this time. Mission accomplished?" The Oregonian looked toward Caren. The dark-haired woman nodded happily. "A-okay!" "Guys, I hate to break up the reunion chatter, but I suggest we get our bodies back down in the tunnels," Patt said, heading for the exposed manhole. "Laurie McMerc has escaped." "EKKKKK!" was the general sentiments of the group members. Jesse looked especially pale. "What's the matter, Jess?" Caren asked with concern, placing an arm around the teen's shoulders. Caren's maternal instinct was kicking in. "Are you okay?" Jesse managed a nod. "Yea, but I was in the Shrine during the torturing. I might be in hot water by proximity to the activities." "Heck," Patt snorted. "I was in on hauling her bootie to CERK for a trip through virtual HawHades. Don't worry about it, Jess. She has bigger fish to fry before she starts worrying about the guppies." These sentiments appeared to have little comforting affect on the young addict. She paused at the manhole entrance, casting worried eyes back toward the Raven. That's when she locked eyes, for just a moment, with the young man standing outside the club. John-Travis, heir to the house of Griffin and sworn defender of Tracy Vetter, could just stare at the pale beauty standing in the alley directly across the street from him. Her eyes were what caught him though. They were haunted, pained. John-Travis' heart immediately caught and held for just a moment, before returning to its staccato beat. "Who is that girl?" he whispered to no one. For even the girl was now gone. But, far from forgotten. The four addicts gingerly climbed back down the metal ladder, into the bowels of the Toronto sewer system. Again, they were plunged into darkness. "What about the glowing rat?" Patt asked. "Rosie?" Jesse asked, blinking innocently. "We let her go. She missed her ratsie friends." "Ahhhhhh," the others chorused, understanding. "Yeah," Jess continued. "She was afraid her babies might get eaten by a cat." Caren, Patt and Tser nodded, even though they couldn't see their identical gestures in the dark. "You did the right thing, Jess. You are a good person," Caren offered. The situation in the sewer intersection was much as Patt and Caren remembered it. Large, round, dark, damp, stagnant. The passageway which they knew would lead them back to the Shrine was some twenty feet above them, and had no ladder offering access. "Was anyone here a cheerleader?" Patt said, squinting upward. Three heads shook negatively. "Well, then we'll have to improvise. I'll be the base and someone climb on my shoulders and see if they can reach the junction up there." None of the women moved. None of them, even standing on top of Patt, reached twenty feet. "Why don't we check out another tunnel?" Tser suggested, looking at one of three other passageways leading off the circular chamber. They were man-made tunnels, rendered of brick and mortar. "Which one?" Caren asked. After a few minutes of discussion, Patt decided to choose scientifically. "Einnee, meinee, mighty, mouse; I find myself in a Ratpacker house. If I want to head on home; which of these should I now roam?" The party headed down the middle tunnel. "Yuck," Caren exclaimed as her foot sank into yet another muck-filled crack. "How long are we going to stay down here and put up with this?" "Errrr," Well I'm in my mid-forties." Patt began some mental calculations. "The normal life span in my family is about eighty. How does thirty-five years strike you?" Patt found herself pelted with unidentifiable muck and debris thrown from three different directions. It was at this point that the party decided to go topside. At the first available vertical passageway, the addicts climbed upward again. They were greeted by the mid-afternoon Saturday sunlight of downtown Toronto. Caren popped up first, looked around and exhaled sharply. "What?" Tser called up with concern. "Mercs? Dark Perks? Nick and Natters?" "Worse!" Caren cried. "Actors!" The other addicts scrambled upward to look and, sure enough, what appeared to be a movie crew was milling outside in the street. The addicts were preparing to descend back into the tunnel, when Caren caught sight of a dressing trailer parked nearby. The door held the requisite star, with the initials M. G. under the symbol. Caren quickly swung her face around, scanning the crowd. As if Moses had ordered it, the assembly parted and Caren saw him. The famous down-under Thespian who haunted her non- Nunkies dreams. "They must be shooting Deadly Armaments X," Jesse said excitedly, for she had recognized the actor, too. "Looks like he's directing this feature." Tser and Patt knew a pending meltdown when they saw one. Nodding to each other, they each grabbed one of Caren's upper arms. "Come on Cae," Patt said softly. "It's time to go." "I want him," Caren said, hazel-green eyes glittering. "I know, hon, but now is not the time and place." Patt tugged, but Caren was steadfast. The actor/director appeared to be arguing with a smaller, bald man. There was much paper shaking and pointing at another trailer which was dominated by frilly curtains. At one point, the man's voice rose enough to recognize several words including "don't care" "primadonna" and "schedule." "Come on, Caren. Time to hit the bricks." >From across the lot, the man's exasperated face rose, looking in the direction of the four addicts. Caren strained slightly forward. "Catch her, she's gonna faint!" Tser cried. "Nahhh," Patt corrected. "She's gonna bolt!" Caren's eyes met his. Crystal blue breaking against foam green. Doves wept. "Her," he shouted, pointing at Caren. "I want her. She's perfect for the part." Caren placed a hand to her chest, incredulous. "Me?" she whispered. "You!" the man shouted again. "I want you!" Caren shook free of their grasp, yelling back over her shoulder, "I'll meet you back at the Shrine! Maybe!!" The last the addicts saw of her, she was whisked into the makeup trailer. The doves flew away. The three remaining addict members of the great cementing expedition headed back down into the tunnels. The light hurt their eyes and they had more plotlines to explore. At one point, the tunnel deepened, making walking in the actual pipeline impossible. Swimming was probably possible, but would have proved nauseating. The addicts instead chose to inch along the narrow ledge which ran across the top half of the main passageway. "I'm tired. Can we rest a minute?" Jesse's question reflected the way they all felt. They stopped and sat down on the ledge. Tser found some pebbles and began tossing them into the water below. "What's the matter, Jess?" Patt looked at the younger woman. Except for that moment when she'd recognized the actor, Jesse had been unusually silent. Especially for a teen. "I'm a haunted soul," Jess said quietly. "Ahhhhh," Patt nodded understandingly. "Don't worry. Laurie's bark is usually bigger than her bite." "Oh, I'm not worried about the Poobah's teeth," Jess assured the mature addict. "It is more the love bug that I'm thinking of." "You're considering buying a Volkswagon ?" Tser wrinkled her nose. "I would have thought you'd want something big enough to haul a horse trailer." "Like a truck," Patt said proudly. Then she sighed, "Though I don't imagine I'll ever see mine again." "No, no, no." Jesse shook her head, clearing it of thoughts of tires, fenders and frogs. "I saw a young man tonight. Blonde hair, strange eyes, weird outfit. He didn't move, didn't speak . . . but his heart beckoned to me, and mine answered his." The three addicts sighed simultaneously. "The problem is," Jess continued. "He was wearing dark pink." Three addicts shuddered. Words like hopeless, poor child and stupid were bandied about abit. "We have to help Jesse get her mind off of this problem," Tser whispered to Patt. "What do you suggest?" Patt whispered back. "ROARRRRRRR," something responded from deep within the tunnel. "That would do it," Tser said, looking suspiciously in the direction the loud growl had emitted from. "Doesn't sound like no pink rat to me," Patt observed. "Tser, you want to go check that critter out?" The Oregon addict wisely shook her head. "ROARRRRRRRRRR!!" it roared again. "Well," Patt drawled. "Do we go back the way we came, or push onward into the unknown?" The addicts fell into contemplation for a moment. A massive head made the decision for them. In the fleck of a dust mote entering an eye, the beast was within the chamber the women occupied, taking up all available space. The addicts jumped to their feet, their bodies pressed to the wall. The dragon, for it was indeed a mythical beast born of ye olden superstitions, reared its head and shot fire at the women. "Where's a marshmallow when you need one?" Patt hollered, jumping down into the water (well, it wasn't exactly water, but to really describe it would be, well . . .) and going under just as the flames licked across her back. "Just like Patt's 'Lost Knight!'" Jesse cried in glee. "Tser, you take the LaCroix part and I'll play Nick." "That's awfully generous of you, Jesse." Tser seemed delighted at first, then turned and gave the addict a suspicious look. "Why are you giving me the LaCroix part?" "Because Nick gets to use the sword!" Jesse cried, producing her fencing foil from one of those mysterious places where swords are hidden. (Ask Laurie--she knows all about them.) "Oh, okay." Without further comment, Tser leaped onto the Dragon's back and grasped hold of his neck ridges. The beast bucked and snarled and rolled and belched and . . . well you get the point . . . until he finally exposed his chest to Jesse. With a cry of triumph, Jesse drove her epee into the creature's heart. He dropped like a stone. "Poor nameless beast," Tser mourned, climbing off the dragon's back. "Don't worry, Tser," Jesse said encouragingly. "He's not dead. He's already booked as an extra in an upcoming Sword and Sorcery movie. This was just a guest appearance. He'll be up and running before we're out of this scene." The teenager looked down at the air bubble popping to the water's surface. "I'm more worried about Patt. She's not going to smell very good you know." Tser nodded and the addicts watched as Patt bobbed to the surface. They each grasped one of the Louisianan's upheld hands and dragged the woman back onto the ledge. Then, they clamped their noses and headed back down the trail. At the first junction available, they went to the surface again. This time, they ignored further adventure for the comforts of a Toronto Metro cab and a quick drive back to the Shrine. Stopping long enough to pick up Caren. They found the dark- haired woman walking toward her Canadian home, a mysteriously stupid grin dominating her pretty face. ***************************** patt79ad@juno.com "A Need for Closure" By Patt Elmore When: Thursday night/Friday morning; follows ""Betrayal and Retribution" Where: The Shrine of Nunkies and beyond ************************ Patt was in her quarters at the Shrine, still in shock from her encounter with the ancient vampire, Lucien LaCroix, when Jules found her. The High Priestess knocked softly, and when no one answered, opened the door and slipped into the room. Patt sat cross-legged on the bed, staring vacantly at the far wall. Caren was sitting on the end of the bed, near her friend. "She's been like this since she got back," Caren said, turning concerned eyes toward the HP. "She hasn't spoken, hasn't moved, and her clothing is torn. I think she was assaulted." "I know what happened, and your concern is merited, Caren," Jules said quietly. "Leave, and let me talk with her." Reluctantly, Caren turned to go, but as she walked by, Jules caught the Louisianan's arm and stopped her. "Don't stray far, though." With Caren out of the room, Jules moved to stand squarely in front of Patt. Slowly, the Third Cousin appeared to take notice of the HP, and lifted her head until their eyes met. "You've irritated me royally." Jules voice was almost inaudible, which alterted Patt to the fact that the High Priestess was very angry. The continued to speak softly, the crux of her soliloquy centering around much of the same topics that the mature addict had recently discussed with LaCroix, but with more explicit wording including lack of trust, stupidity, deceit, etc., etc., etc. "And," Jules finished, still running on full steam for at least thirty minutes, "you screwed up the whole evening I had planned with Nunkies. After *dealing* with you, the last thing he wanted to think about doing was, how did he put it?" Jules looked to the ceiling and tapped a finger thoughtfully against her cheek. "Oh, yes, 'playing pocket billiards with a Priestess who cannot control her parish.'" "Sorry," Patt said softly. "Sorry?" Jules repeated the word incredulously. "Sorry?" Her voice rose an octave. "SORRY?!" Then, even more scary, the Priestess' voice dropped to a terrible low. "You just think that you're sorry." Patt shivered. "Grout for life?" "Too merciful," Jules replied. "I'm not Nunkies, remember?" Patt shuddered, then waited. "Get up, get dressed and come downstairs." Jules rose from the bed and marched regally toward the exit. "I *will* be waiting." Ten minutes later, Patt joined Jules in the parlor. Heather was there also, as was an unhappy looking Caren and a curious Jesse. "Why didn't you tell me that she found out?" Caren said accusingly. "She blames me for upsetting a pool game, or something." "Sorry, Cae. Didn't you show her the letter of exoneration?" "Yes, but the look she gave me set fire to the paper. It was ashes before I had time to give it to her." "Ladies, I hate to interrupt your little conversation, but this is not a social visit," Jules said, her voice firm. "I have a mission for you." "Uhhhhh," Patt and Caren groaned. "We are under imminent attack by several factions due to the kidnaping of the Grand High Poobah and other actions perpetrated and responded to by the NA's. In consulting our security force . . ." Caren nudged Patt. "We have a security force?" "The Not So Vestals," Patt replied. Jules chose to ignore the women. " . . . it has been determined that our most vulnerable point of entry is through the Ratpacker tunnels which lead into the Shrine. I want them closed off." The assembled addicts considered this. It didn't sound too bad. "I was planning to just cement all entrances at the Shrine, but my security staff has pointed out that we may be able to put the tunnels to our advantage, as needed, if we choose to close off only those tunnels which lead to and from other factions' headquarters." The assembled addicts groaned. The task was looking harder. "So," Jules said, overlooking their interruption, "I want you to go into the tunnels and block every entrance that you think might prove a threat to LaCroix and this Shrine. I have selected Heather as the leader of this expedition, due to her construction experience and her previous trip within the tunnels, albeit its lack of success." The High Priestess turned to Jesse. "Jesse, you're young, nimble and small. You'll be point checking those tight places that the others cannot get into." "And you two." Jules turned toward Caren and Patt, eyes hard as stone. "We can only hope that you get lost and end up in Istanbul, or something like that." "She knows about the camels, too?" Caren shot a harsh look at Patt. "LISTEN TO ME!!" Jules raged, then quieted when she noticed the others staring at her. She smoothed her hair and straightened, striking her usual regal pose. "Go and block the tunnels; work fast, work efficiently. Do your best to guard your Shrine and your fellow Nunkies Addicts. We're counting on you." The addicts saluted as Jules spun on her heal and left the parlor. "Okay," Heather turned to address the troops after the HP had departed. "Here's the drill. I've assembled backpacks for everyone. We have flashlights, headlamps, extra batteries, mortar, water containers, trowels, bricks and yellow spray paint in each one of them. If one of us gets lost, caught or disposed of, the others can continue the mission. Any questions?" "What's the yellow paint for?" Patt asked, inspecting her rucker. "To paint directional signs on the wall," Heather said proudly. "Rat's donna liken to paint, I suspect, like they do to crumbs. Now, if there be no more questions, I suggest we head out. Time be awastin." The troops followed Heather into the kitchen and, one by one, dropped through the main Ratpacker tunnel entrance the original one which Libby had dug several months prior. Once inside, those who had not been on the first expedition were amazed by the magnitude of the task ahead of them. "Darn," Patt breathed in awe. "This is a lot bigger than I remembered it being when I chased Biff down here." "That it is," Heather nodded, heading off. "And, the Packers have since accessed the main sewer system of Toronto, enlargin this little maze to cover the whole of the city." "Wow!" Jesse was a bit awed. "You mean we can go *anywhere* in Toronto?" "Aye," Heather said. "And, conceivably, even beyond. If the Packers tapped into the pipeline, we could even have a trail to Texas." "Oh." The addicts didn't know whether to be impressed or scared. "So, Heather." The group had arrived at the first juncture. "Which way do we go?" MacHeather looked down and noted the pineapple shaped puddle. She moved over, made a yellow "X" on the wall and said authoritatively, "This way." *********************************** Three hours later, the group was staring at a big yellow "X" at a juncture near an evaporating pineapple shaped crater. "I have a feeling that Texas is safe," Patt leaned over and whispered to Caren. Jesse overheard and began tittering. Heather looked at the group harshly. "We need reinforcements. Wait here." In a few moments, the MacCousin returned with Tser. "Hi, Tser," Patt greeted her friend warmly. "You get drafted, too?" The black clad woman nodded. "I've asked Tser to come along because of her familiarity with the dark side of things," Heather explained. "For most of us, all dark places look pretty much the same. Tser is an expert in subtle shades." "And, it beats waiting around for a deserted, dark alley scenario, I suppose." The buzz-cut addict grinned wryly. "Okay, enough with the idle chit chat." Heather said, straightening her knapsack and heading out. "Let's go wall up some exits." ************************************************* If the success of a mission can be judged by the exuberance of its participants, then Operation MacBrick was an achievement beyond comparison. All through the wee hours of Friday morning the addicts worked tirelessly, inspecting curious passageways and cementing exits which led to either unidentified or identified-as-dangerous sources. Early in the mission, the group discovered a small entrance which Jesse had to stoop and crawl into. She quicky slithered back, her face ashen, reporting that she'd heard music from deep within the tunnel. "What did it sound like?" Caren asked. "Well, it went kind of like, 'I Love You, You Love Me . . ." Jesse gave an involuntary shudder. "Brick it!" MacHeather ordered. The addicts quickly complied. The addicts ventured further into the depths, noting the change in the air. "There isn't any poisonous gas down here, is there?" Patt asked Heather. The MacLeader shrugged. "Naut that I have knowledge of, but a canary along would have been a plus factor." "And risk killing a defenseless bird?" Tser was horrified. "If I'd known ahead of time that I'd be on this mission, I know where we could have purloined a goose," Patt said dryly. Behind her, Caren snickered and Jesse made a 'honking' noise. The addicts continued on, despite the strange smells and shadows which curled all around them. As they continued to investigate, more passages appeared in need of bricking than did not. Finally, it happened. "Och!" Heather proclaimed, the disgust evident in her voice. "I was afraid of this. We've run out of cement." "We get to go home?" Jesse said happily. "Nae, wee one," Heather shook her head. "We've simply been given orders to borrow what we need from Metro Public Works. Now, the four of you wait right here while I go aloft and get a new supply." And so Heather left the other addicts to wait. And wait they did -- for awhile. ************************************** patt79ad@juno.com "Food for Thought" By Patt Elmore When: Friday, following "A Need for Closure" Where: The tunnels of Toronto ************************ Like good little, well-behaved addicts, they continued to wait. For about fifteen minutes. "What time is it?" Jesse asked. Patt and Caren, who both never wore watches, shrugged. "I'm still on Oregon time," Tser smiled apologetically. "Well, my stomach is on supper time," Jesse moped. "Did anyone think to bring food along with all these mining supplies?" General shrugging and shaking of heads. "I knew I should have volunteered for Rutledge's tunnel adventure," Jesse addressed the group sullenly. "At least she had tirim . . . tiru . . . heck, I can never spell that darn word right. Cookies!" General lamentation and growling of stomachs. Everyone looked in Patt's direction. "What?" she demanded when she noticed all eyes on her. "What are you planning to do now. About feeding us?" Jesse quizzed impatiently. "I'm not gonna do anything," Patt replied, a bit miffed. "I'm not the leader in this arc, remember? Talk to Heather about your problems." "Heather's not here, dear," Caren interjected, her voice sweet with sarcasm. "You sent her topside for cement, remember?" "Did not," Patt retorted. "Did so," the others shot back. "Did not!" "Then who did?" Patt thought for a moment, wondering who might just have story control at this point. Then, she snapped her fingers. "Vachon did it! He's in my hard drive, you know. Probably did it to get back at Caren for "goosing" him with a fowl that vacated the church in War 7. (continuity fairies strike again, but at least I read my e-mail) "So, in essence, you're saying that Caren is the real reason we're all sitting around down here, cold, wet, hungry and miserable, right?" Tser's question was thoughtful, 'cause that's just the way Tser is. "Yep," Patt nodded eagerly. "Blame it on Cae! She brought the Wrath of the Slacker down on us." "You *twit!*" Caren kicked out at Patt from her seated position, grazing the other Louisianan's shin. "I'll spam you if you don't hush." "Hmmmmmm, Spam ," Jesse murmured. "I'm hungry enough that mystery meat almost sounds palatable." "YEWWWWW!!" The addicts crowed in unison. "This is getting bad," Patt said, rising from the damp ground, but not without bringing some of it up with her. "We need to feed the kid. Unfed teenagers tend to get vicious." "Vicious . . . hehehehe . . . Vicious!" Jesse chortled, eyes glazing. "So what do you think we should do?" Caren asked. She'd also gotten up and was lending a helping hand to Tser. "Go find food," Patt said. The addicts and addict stomachs mumbled in agreement. "What about Heather?" Tser asked. "Heather can find her own food. She's probably munching on tir . . . cookies as we speak." Patt was already heading down a passage. "But shouldn't we at least leave her a note about where we've gone?" Caren insisted. "If someone is using these tunnels besides us, then that wouldn't be a very smart idea, would it?" Patt replied. "What if we left a coded message?" Jesse suggested helpfully. "One that would tell Heather what was going on, but no one else would understand." "Go for it, Li'l bit," Patt said with a grin. Jesse quickly grabbed her can of yellow enamel and proceeded to spray a smiley face circle. Beside the face, she drew what could arguably pass for an art deco spoon. "Okay, that should take care of Heather," Patt announced. "Now, troops, let's move out." Under Patt misdirection, the four addicts moved deeper into the deepest of the tunnels. At times, space was so narrow that Patt had to turn sideways and hold her breath. At other times, the tunnels slanted so low and all of the addicts had to crawl to achieve the other side. "My batteries are getting low," Caren complained, slapping the plastic casing against her palm. Patt seriously considered inserting an innuendo, but actually controlled herself. After all, there was a pool-shark child present that knew how to use a sword. "Do you have any idea where we are?" Tser called from the rear. "Not a clue," Patt said over her shoulder. "Maybe Jesse has a suggestion about these tunnels. She is a minor after all." "Only with an 'O,' Patt, only with an 'O,' the teen replied. Then, she broke into song. "Hi O, Hi O, it's off to munch we go." "Starvation does ugly things to a person, doesn't it?" Caren whispered back to Tser, who was directly behind her. The Oregon addict nodded fervently. "What's that?" Up ahead a fiendish pink light was glowing. "New Celtic cantina?" Caren wondered aloud. "Nahhhh," Jesse, leader of the pack, had spotted the source. "It's a rat. A glowing pink rat." The implication of yon light-ruby rodent was not lost to the Third Cousin. "If there be a pink rat in these tunnels, then that means that some of them have gotten out of CERK through a ratpacker cubby hole at the station." "Which means that if a rat can get out, we can get in. There's food at CERK!" Jesse said excitedly. "Yea, and food takers at CERK, too." Patt had unconsciously placed her hand on her neck, which now she quickly jerked away and dropped to her side. "Cousin food, here we come!" Tser moved ahead, joining Jesse. "What direction did our critter friend come from?" "Grab him, why don't ya?" Caren called, tossing her useless flashlight to the ground. "He's putting off enough light that we can use his little body as a floodlamp." None too happy with this latest development, Patt followed the other addicts as they merrily made their way (or thought they did) toward CERK. ******************************** "Och!" Heather exclaimed, crawling out of the main ratpacker tunnel entrance to the Shrine. "Who would have thought that those folk would put cement under lock and key. You'd think that they were expecting thieves." The MacCousin brushed herself off and walked across the tiles of the Laboratory/Kitchen. She paused before a counter and pulled out one of the drawers. Heather swiped her hand through the many keys within until she found the one she was looking for. The very unused one which would unlock the door to the Sacred Tool Shed. Heather headed for the rear kitchen exit, which would take her into the alley and on to the shed. As she reached for the door handle, the door came inward unexpectedly. A tall figure with dark, flowing hair and a cartoon tee-shirt pushed himself into the Shrine. The creature, for the golden eyes and bared fangs were a dead giveaway, grabbed hold of the MacCousin and pushed her against the stainless steel refrigerator. "Where is Patt?" the vampire sneered angrily into Heather's face. "She was supposed to report to me three days ago and I'm tired of waiting for her." "Patt's well known for going AWOL," Heather replied through her tightly clenched jaws. Spark was smooshing her face, you see. "So her disappearance isn't that odd?" Spark asked. Heather shook her head as well as she could, considering her face was being held in the vise-worthy grip of the vampire. "You might say, though, that the Third Cousin was unavoidably detained, this time. The HP sent a group of us into the tunnels to do some spackling, and she was one of the chosen." "So . . . she's pandering to her *friends* rather than take care of the business I assigned her. Tsk, tsk, tsk. For that, she *will* be punished," Spark's eyes were almost back to normal, just flecked gold and attitude now. He considered the woman before him. "Do you know her quarters?" he asked finally. Heather nodded, as well as she could . . . Spark pulled Heather from the fridge and pushed her toward the swinging entrance to the Shrine. "Take me there," he ordered. Heather and Spark passed quickly, unseen, up the stairs which let to the Sacred Sleeping Chambers. Spark looked around, cautiously. "Where is everyone--this hive is almost deserted." "They're all either partyin at the Raven or up to mischief," Heather explained as she located Patt's room. The vampire and woman slipped inside, and Heather flipped on the overhead light. "Ahhhh," Spark said with satisfaction. "Just what I was looking for." ***************************** patt79ad@juno.com "A Clear and Faint-worthy Danger" By Patt Elmore and Brianna Russell When: Friday evening, following "Food for Thought" and prior to "Bar Buddies" Where: Tunnels of Toronto and Patt's bedroom ****************************** Information within graciously obtained from: the Tracy FAQ on Bonnie's page at: http://users.lanminds.com/~callalily/tracyfaq.html CHECK IT OUT ****************************** The closer the tunnel party got to *CERK,* the slower Patt seemed able to move. Her legs were beginning to cramp, something which had never happened to her in fanfic, and her feet had an odd, tingly feeling to them. Patt could feel her heart beat quickening--the muscle pounding within her chest like a group of convicts striking fists on table in unison to draw attention to their desires. she thought lamely, without humor. The most apparent physical symptom of Patt not wanting to go anywhere near the radio station was her breathing. What little air she could force out of her lungs was ragged, hot, almost suffocating. Patt began to gasp as she walked, pressing a hand to her chest in an effort to import and export more breathable gasses. Caren, who was third in line, but still some distance ahead of the Third Cousin, took note of her friend's labored rasping and returned to check on her. "What the matter, Patt? Are you okay?" Caren reached out and touched the other woman's shoulder with concern. This pause in walking was more than Patt was able to handle. The mature addict staggered upon stopping and began to fall. Caren caught Patt's arm, steadying her and shouted to the others. "Wait up! I think Patt is sick." Tser and Jesse returned at a run. Jesse's face paled as she looked at her mature buddy. "Is she okay?" the teenager asked. "I think she's on the verge of fainting," Caren told the others as they helped Patt to sit down. The Third Cousin was looking very wan and was not talking. This *was* a very bad sign. "If she were a gorilla," Tser said, stooping to place a hand on the mature addict's forehead, "I'd say she was on the verge of hyperventilating, going into a comatose condition and throwing up." Caren and Jesse took a step back. "Or," Tser looked up at the others, "She's going into severe Nunklier Meltdown." Patt moaned "That must be it!" Jesse slapped her hand against her forehead and grinned. "The closer we get to the General's place of abode, the more her symptoms manifest." Patt moaned louder. "Patt." Caren leaned close. "Are you having an attack? Do you need anything?" Patt groaned, shaking her head. Tser took the mature woman's wrist, pressing two fingers against the surface vein. "That's odd. Thready, but steady." "It's a meltdown!" Jesse nodded in a matter-of-fact manner. "She just needs a good dose of LaCroix." Patt moaned, jerked and fell over backwards. She lay there, pasty and drawn, eyes open and staring upward. A slight trickle of spital was evident at the corner of her mouth." "See," Jesse pointed to the saliva with glee. "Major meltdown!" "Well, what are we going to do now?" Caren asked the others. "We can't just leave her here like this." "And," Tser added, "we're still hungry and need to keep this adventure moving along." "You two go on, then," Caren said "I'll wait here with Patt." After a few more seconds of protest and observation, Jesse and Tser headed down the tunnel they'd all been heading. Caren elevated Patt's feet with her knapsack, then sat down to wait the return of the others with help, food, medicine, whatever they might deign to return with--if they returned. Which Caren began to doubt after about fifteen minutes had passed. (Being in a dark tunnel distorts time, and fifteen minutes seems likes days. Patience wanes and one wants to get moving, get out of damp, dark, ugginess. Unless you're a Ratpacker and like those sort of things.) Patt's breathing was more steady now. Caren put a hand on the mature addict's forehead and noted that the clamminess was dissipating, the skin feeling warm again. "You feeling better?" she asked. Still prone, Patt nodded. "Feel like sitting up?" Nod. "Promise not to vomit on me?" Chuckle and nod. The chuckle clinched the deal. With Caren's stabilizing aid, Patt managed an upright position. The Third Cousin glanced down the passageway and asked, her voice weak. "How long have they been gone?" "At least two days," Caren said firmly. "I think we can safely assume that they're lost." "Any sign of Heather?" Patt rubbed her legs, willing the circulation to begin again. "Nope. She's definitely a no-show," Caren replied. "Do you think we should try and get moving again?" Patt looked down the tunnel passage again, her face an etching in dread. "We don't have to go in that direction, my friend," Caren said softly. "LaCroix did something to you, didn't he?" Patt whirled her face quickly, leveling her eyes with Caren's, searching. Then, the Third Cousin slowly began to nod. "Did he hurt you?" Caren's voice held a mixture of fright, concern, anger and a bunch of other emotions which a handy- dandy word processing Thesaurus will help you find. Patt shook her head. "No . . . not physically. Not enough to mention, anyway." Patt's voice lowered. "He just scared the bejeebers out of me." "So what's new about that?" Caren rocked back on her ankles. "He scares the crap out of people by just standing there smiling." Patt chuckled, then her expression darkened again. "But, this time was different. This time he wanted me dead." *************************************** Spark stood over Patt's personal computer, eyeing the screen with interest. "I've come to know my faction leader well," he said, maybe to Heather, who was standing there with him, or just to the air. "I can say with almost complete assurance that whatever is detaining her may be found within the confines of this machine." He reached out a hand, fingers approaching the keyboard. "You donna have a faction, Mr. Spark, and I'd be careful with that equipment, if I were you," Heather warned. "I believe that Vachon is still in Patt's hard drive, and he may not be like you messin in his territory." "Vachon?" Spark said, puzzled, then understanding. "Ahhh, yes. The *greasy* one. He's of no consequence to me." Spark placed his hands on the primary keys, only to draw them back quickly as , errrr, *sparks* flew. From within the speakers, laughter, with a slight Spanish accent, could be heard. "I'll deal with the interfering Spaniard later," Spark said angrily, backing away from the PC. He looked pointedly at the MacCousin. "Perhaps it will be more user friendly with your gentle touch. Sit down and type." Heather hesitated. "NOW!" Heather sat down. Spark leaned over her shoulder, eyes on the monitor. "Bring up her e-mail. Let's see who she's been chatting with." "Newsgroups and bookmarks might be more informative," Heather offered. Spark shook his head. "Later. I want her mail first." "That requires her password," Heather informed the dark- haired vampire. "So . . . type it in," Spark instructed as Heather accessed the program. "What is it?" Heather looked sideways at Spark. "How would I possibly know that information," Spark said, eyes narrowing. "You're the hacker. You volunteered for this segment. *You* should have the password." "You've been misinformed, laddie," Heather said, prepared to rise and be on her way. "My talents are many, but mind- reading is not one of them." "Then," Spark leaned closer, eyes bright. "Perhaps you should considered adding that skill to your repertoire." "Hmmm, I guess we *could* try the universal addict password." Heather turned quickly and began typing: N U N K I E S Bleep. *Access Denied.* "Try again," Spark instructed. Heather keyed again: L A C R O I X Bleep. *Access Denied.* "This is *very* odd." The MacCousin scratched her head in confusion. She quickly typed in: U N C L E Bleep. *Access Denied.* Spark was growing more irritated by the minute and Heather began sweating just a tad. Heather tried to think like Patt might think and cried "Och!" in sudden understanding. She keyed in the word: S T A K E After all, she reasoned, what self-respecting vampire loving- woman would use such a word for her password. Made perfect sense, if one wanted privacy. The e-mail program began whirring to life, flashing new screens of preliminary information before settling on the main one. The message "You have mail" was posted on a predominant pop-up screen. Spark scanned the incoming message addys, dismissing most of them as either advertisements or personal junk. One, though, caught his eye. "Open that one," he instructed the MacCousin, pointing to the one marked: URGENT--THE INFO YOU REQUESTED AND PAID DEARLY FOR. With interest, the dark-haired vampire read the following: X-Sender: MercNinja@rotfl.com X-Mailer: QUALCOMM Windows Eudora Light Version 3.0.5 (32) Date: Fri, 01 May 1998 02:26:59 -0400 To: patt79ad@juno.com From: Brianna Russell Subject: Info you requested Patt, Here is the preliminaries of the information you wanted. Vital Stats: Subject is in her 20's, approx. 5'10", 135 lbs. Coming from a long line of police officers, she attended college before graduating ninth in her class from the police academy, She spent an additional five years in uniform before being promoted to detective. The only child of an alcoholic mother and a very demanding, public-figure father, subject has reacted by becoming a highly organized, fastidious overachiever, apparently in an attempt to live up to her father's expectations and distance herself from her mother. Subject drives a light-blue Ford Taurus. My general impression of the subject's personality: She seems to have lived a protected lifestyle but generally has gotten her own way all her life. She know the right thing to do in most situations, has good morals, but also is a bit naive and expects everyone else to be the same. Her own life, though, has not been a charmed existence. Her father seems to be a dark presence in her life. Her parents are divorced and she is angry over sometimes being put in a position of having to choose between them. She continually works to present a confident and cheerful image, yet she is plagued by doubts that she is being treated differently because she is a rookie, a woman, or her father's daughter. Her need to prove herself as an individual may be responsible for a certain recklessness in her on-the-job behavior. She does not like suck-ups and would get in the face of anyone who tries to put her down. She does not want anyone to protect her because of her father's position, but she will use that position to get past obstacles or obstructive people. She seems to be attracted to 'bad boys' type, the kind your mother warned you about. Not the kind of guys her Daddy would approve of, or that would fit in her social circle. She seems to have no interest in generally clean-cut and upright men. She also has a deep sense of loyalty and very little tolerance for betrayal. She's sensitive, but strong. If her trust in a person is misplaced, that person will likely never earn their way into her good graces again. Specific Interests and Likes: She appears to be a fan of 'trash TV', like "The Jerry Show", indicating an attraction to the darker side of life, that she has not experienced. Musical tastes - an eclectic mix of Nine Inch Nails, Mariah Carey, B-52s, the Stones. Reading material - almost everything from trade magazines (Police Gazette) to classic romance novels ('Whuthering Heights'). Also prefers designer perfumes (Chanel No. 5, Oscar de la Renta and First/Van Cleef), silk lingerie (size 6), and white roses. I hope this information will be of use to the one who needs it. I plan on meeting with someone who can provide extra "juicy" details and expect to have even more interesting, useful news soon. You may contact me anytime Saturday to arrange a meeting to receive this information in exchange for the agreed upon payment. Brianna, MercNinja # # # Spark stood up, his eyes glittering. He knew all he needed to know. ********************************************* patt79ad@juno.com All in a Night's Work (2/?) By Brianna Russell and Patt Elmore Time: Tuesday evening, with flashbacks to Friday, daytime, before Raven Party. Locations: Tang's Wok-Right-In, Merc Central, & unspecified restaurant DP Leader Mary used with permission The red-headed merc slipped into Tang's Wok-Right-In, grateful for the muted light gracing the establishment. Her eyes quickly adjusted and she located her client, sitting at a small table, alone, at the far wall of the restaurant. Brianna, clad in street clothes so as not to draw attention to herself, walked up and sat down opposite the client. "Took ya long enuff to reply to me post," the mercenary began. Patt lifted her head from her chest and gave the packer/merc an unreadable look. "I've been . . . busy," the Louisianan drawled. "Well, so 'av aye, doin yer biz-ee-ness, fer ya," the mercenary exclaimed, drawing a notebook from her pocket. "Aye think ya'll be pleased, ya will!' Brianna gave the Third Cousin a knowing wink. "I'm waiting with bated breath for your report," Patt replied, taking a sip of her hot, green tea. "Ken we eat first?"Brianna said, sniffing the tempting aromas emanating from the buffet. "Go ahead," Patt acquiesced, slumping down lower into her chair. "I'm not hungry." "Yer treat?" the RP/Merc said pointedly, eyes bright. Patt nodded and Brianna jumped up, headed toward the buffet line at an alarming rate of speed. In a few moments, she returned to the table, balancing three full plates of food. Mr. Hi Chin, the proprietor of Tang's, was following Brianna, wringing his hands and watching the ratpacker with trepidation. "Make two trips! Make two trips. Plenty food," he called worriedly. "Nawt tew fear, Mr. Tang," Brianna replied, successfully placing the plates on the table, "Ay'm a bal-in-cing expert, Aye am. Yew aught to see me with knives!" Mr. Chin turned and left, muttering in Chinese as Brianna seated herself and began eating with gusto. During bites, she relayed her tale to the mature addict. ***************************** Brianna awoke mid-morning on Friday, and, following her usual habits, logged on to check her e-mail. There were several new messages, but not the one she was waiting for. Leaving the program open, she set about tidying her room as she waited impatiently. Several times, the announcing blip of a new incoming message brought her flying to the screen, but each time it was not the one she was hoping for. "Come on, come on," she growled. "What's taking you so long?" Another blip; another near collision with her monitor. "YES! Finally!". Quickly, she opened and read the short note. "On my way," she spoke to the air. ********* Arriving at the restaurant, Brianna scanned the crowd of faces. Finding one that matched the description she'd been given, the merc gingerly approached. "Mary?" she queried. "Yes, I'm Mary," the leader of the DarkPerks answered her solemnly. "Have a seat and join me for brunch, won't you?" Brianna hesitated, then sat, unsure of where to begin. "Thanks for writing me back and agreeing to meet with me. Um ... nice weather we're having," she commented. "Yeah, all factors seem to be working in harmony to produce a beautiful day. It's wonderful when everything works in tandem." Unseen by the DarkPerk leader, Brianna rolled her eyes. This new acquaintance sounded like a Philosophy Major, and, if there was one thing the MercNinja was *not* into, it was philosophy. "It's like mankind's relationship to himself and others," Mary continued, warming up to her subject. "If one is centered on his true self, then he can exist in harmony with others and with the cosmos." Brianna's eyes glazed, her mind retreating from the academic onslaught, as the DP leader continued to expound on what was obviously a favorite obsession. The reverie was broken when a waiter approached to take their order. As she chose from the menu, Bri marveled at the fact that a "Dark"Perk could literally glow with delight. What an oxymoron *that* was! Along with the food, Brianna was careful to order the finest vintage of wine available. Valiantly, Brianna tried to bring the conversation back on topic. "Well, that's interesting, but I was hoping we could talk about the War. Up until now, I've been staying out of it. Just watching on the sidelines, so to speak. But the DarkPerks seem like a fascinating group and I can really see their point about Tracy. I was wondering if I could join up after the War?" She immediately regretted her choice of words, as Mary launched into a glowing tribute on how Tracy was the personification of the "every man", the juxtaposition of light and dark in all humans. Their meals arrived, but had long grown cold by the time Mary paused for breath. The wine had flowed freely, however, and both women appeared a little tipsy. Thanks to Dr. Fred's Super Inhaler of Anti-Intoxicant that she'd taken earlier, Brianna was stone-sober, but Mary was *way* over the legal Blood Alcohol Level used to determine intoxication. Determined to steer the conversation back to her desired topic, Brianna said, "I loved FK from the first episode I saw. The stories were great, the characters are appealing and it gives a lot for moral thought. But I also love the pure sensuousness of it. Who could resist Vachon; handsome, mysterious. And Nick! Oh, boy; the way he flashes that little-boy grin of his just makes me want to do things I can't describe on a PG list! Wonder what turns Tracy on like that?" Mary, her tongue loosened and caution dulled by the wine, winked slyly as she replied. "Well, you'll never believe some of the things she's told me. There's definitely more to that lady than meets the eye." Enthralled, Brianna leaned forward as Mary began to speak. The merc glanced at her watch hours later and yelped, "Oh my! Look at the time. I have to go, Mary. The Raven party starts soon and I don't want to be late. It was *sooooo* nice meeting you. We'll have to talk again sometime." Brianna leaned over on the pretense of shaking hands with the wobbly DP leader. Instead, she picked the DarkPerk's pocket and palmed Mary's car keys. Brianna caught the waiter by the sleeve and gave him the keys. "Keep these until she's sobered up a bit, mate," the red-haired woman said, tipping the man generously. "And make sure she has plenty of coffee. I hear she's a connoisseur of the stuff." Hurrying back to MercCentral, Brianna's mind buzzed with new-found knowledge. She finally had the information she'd sought and would deliver it to her client at the earliest opportunity. Right now, though, she had a party to attend. Brianna had not heard Mary's dark snicker as she'd left the restaurant. *********************************** "So there ya 'ave it." Brianna proudly finished her story, punctuated by popping half an egg roll into her mouth. "Have what?" Patt said glumly. "You haven't given me anything yet except a glowing report of your exploits." Brianna looked annoyed. "Aye figured yew'd loik to know that yewr money was well spent, Aye did." "And, you're right, under normal circumstances," Patt conceded. "But, I've been helping clean up the Shrine for the past two days and I'm pooped. Let's cut to the chase, shall we?" Patt extended her hand. "Let's see what you have." Brianna reached inside her pocket and pulled out a bright pink Post-it . "Aye wrote yer info on pinkie paper so Aye wouldn't get it mixed up with me other assignments," Brianna confided with a sly grin. She started to hand the note to the addict, but stopped in mid-air, suddenly suspicious. "Where's me payment?" Brianna asked. "Errrrrr . . ." Patt began. Brianna snatched the paper back just as Patt's fingers grazed it. "Yew don't have me lock, dew yew?" the RP accused. "Let's see if we can negotiate this," Patt said, rising from her chair and reaching across the table. "Surely there's something else you'd like to have. A pool full of Jello , perhaps? It's very bright and shiny." Reluctantly, Brianna shook her head. "How about a genuine Joe Reese tapestry rendered by a famous South American artist?" Brianna appeared to seriously consider this offer for a minute, then shook her head firmly. "Nope," she said. "Aye want me hair." "I have a slightly used camel saddle . . ." Brianna shot an annoyed look at the addict and clutched the pink note to her chest, shaking her head furiously. "It's a lock 'o Nicky's hair or it's no deal," the flame-haired Ninja said adamantly. Patt sighed, sat and leaned forward. "Look, Brianna. Let's face facts here. The war is winding down and there is no way that I'm going to be able to secure a lock of Nick's hair in the time remaining. I need that," Patt looked pointedly at Brianna's chest . . . errrr, the note, "information now. Give it to me." "No way!" Brianna skittered back, eyes glittering. "A bargain's a bargain, matie." "Give it to me!" Patt repeated fiercely. "No!" Brianna repeated. The RP/Merc jumped up rapidly and scampered away from the table. "When yew hav the lock, yew give me a call, addict-shun. Until den, dis information is stayin safe wi' me." In a movement so fast that it hurt the eyes, Brianna popped the Post-it into her mouth, chewed twice and swallowed dramatically. Then she burped. "Cherry-o," she grinned. Then, the mercenary grew serious again. "Call me when yew have the lock, lady, and we'll talk again." Then, the MercNinja walked away. *************************************** patt79ad@juno.com "Feeling Locked Out" By Patt Elmore with beta by Amethyst of Texas When: Follows All in a Night's Work 2/? Where: Tang's Wok-Right-In Patt watched Brianna walk away. A feeling of total defeat washed over her, threatening to drown her again. But, Patt had decided that she would not fall into the depression of hopelessness again. She was strong. She was empowered. "All I need is a break!" the Third Cousin shouted, picking up a small jar of sweet and sour sauce. Unmindful of the people who had turned to stare, Patt launched the condiment container and watched as it shattered against the wall. Mr. Chin hurried toward Patt, waving his arms and jabbering in his native tongue. Before he could reach her, though, another patron reached out and caught his arm. "Let me take care of this," Amethyst said, looking toward the Third Cousin. "She's a friend, and it looks like she needs help." Patt sensed the woman standing by her table and looked up. The Third Cousin's eyes were bleary. "You look like dog poop," Amethyst observed. Now, under normal circumstances, these words from a Knightie to a Cousin would have been the prelude to a shootout at twenty paces, but between Amethyst and Patt, both canine agility enthusiasts, this was the most cordial of greetings. "Thanks," Patt grinned, but her expression was strained. "You seemed stressed," Amethyst said. Patt chuckled cheerlessly. "And, you're not eating. Are you ill?" "Sick as a pup after consuming plastic," Patt extended another doggy euphemism to her friend. "To put it mildly, I feel whelped." "Ouch!" Amethyst, tired of standing, sat down without invitation. She was wearing a black silk pantsuit and her hair was coiffed quite attractively. Even in her advanced state of despondency, Patt noticed that Amethyst's appearance looked special. "Heavy date?" Patt asked. Amethyst grinned shyly. "There's always that possibility when I'm in Toronto. Remember, I *am* a member of Nick's Harem Wife Number Two, in fact," she reported proudly. "Moved you up a notch, hmmmm?" Patt grinned genuinely this time. "What happened to the former Number Two?" "Couldn't handle the . . . action," Amethyst said, giving Patt a long, leering wink. Both women laughed aloud, earning several turned heads among the restaurant's cliente. Patt sat back, wiping a tear from her eye. "Thanks, Ame, I needed that." "You're welcome," Amethyst said, then frowned mock-seriously. "And, don't call me Ame." "Yessum!" Patt saluted. Amethyst leaned forward, no longer hiding her concern. "Now, tell me what's wrong. Nunkies stuff?" Patt shrugged and shook her head. "Not totally. I kind of got myself in a bind while back home in Louisiana." "And?" Amethyst pushed. "And, the trouble kind of followed me to Toronto," Patt replied. "Why are you being so hedgie," Amethyst persisted. "Does this trouble have anything to do with Nick or the Knighties?" Patt paused, picking her words carefully. "It could . . . but so far no one from your camp has screamed bloody monster, to my knowledge, so I have a feeling his first objective for coming to town has gone by the wayside, for the time being." "His?" Amethyst narrowed her eyes, waiting. Patt took a deep breath. "You've seen second season, haven't you?" "Of course I have, you moron," Amethyst snapped. "I'm the one who first supplied you the tapes of the second season Canadian version, remember?" "Uhhhh, yea. Hehehehehe," Patt chuckled sheepishly. Amethyst, you see, had been the one to bring Patt across to Forever Knight almost three years ago!! Patt thought back to the time of her innocense, and whistled softly at how much time had gone by. "You've just had LaCroix on the brain for so long," Amethyst continued, her tone scolding, "that it's in a perpetual state of gray matter motion sickness." "Well, that might be changing, too," Patt said softly. "Uncle's kind of ticked at me right now." "OH?" Amethyst's green eyes got wide. "Worse than the beer bottle affair?" "Yep . . . much worse. Remember a vampire named Spark?" During the course of the next two hours, Amethyst alternately yelled, softly for it was a public place, and commiserated with her friend. The conversation ran the gambit from "How could you bring that fiend to Toronto" and "If he hurt's Nick I'll kill you with my bare hands" to "You poor thing you" and "Why are you still alive?" The tale of woe concluded, an exhausted Patt took a long drink from the Thai beer that Amethyst had bought her sometime during the narration. "So, let me get this straight in my brain," Amethyst began. "We don't have another two hours to sit here," Patt replied. "Hush . . . or I'm not going to help you." Amethyst chastised. "Help me?" Patt's eyes flickered as thoughts began processing. "How?" "You say that you promised to help Spark so that he wouldn't hurt your family and friends the innocents, right?" Patt nodded. "And, you're not helping him because you want to." Patt hrrumphed in response, averting her angsting eyes. (Never let the Knighties see you angst.) "And, LaCroix found out about it before you could tell him, right?" "I never planned to tell the General," Patt said. "I was hoping that Spark would just get bored and go away." "That's naive, Patt." "I know . . . but one can dream." "Anyway, LaCroix found out and was not happy." Patt's only reply was a bitter chuckle. "Well," Amethyst said, "I have two things to say. Number One--If you'd chosen to walk the path of good and become a Knightie, you probably wouldn't be in this pickle, because Nick would have staked the idiot again and hugged you to take away your pain." Patt rolled her eyes and said nothing. Number Two," Amethyst said, ignoring the woman, "is that you're lucky it's LaCroix who's 'ticked' off at you. If Spark had come looking for revenge on Nick and Nat, you'd have been a lot worse off. I'd have been leading the lynch party, you know." Amethyst's green eyes flashed hotly. Patt nodded. "So," the Knightie sat back, thinking. "Spark's developed a crush on Tracy and ordered you to find out what her tastes entail. And, you hired a merc, right?" Patt nodded. "What a waste of money," Amethyst teased. "I could have told you all about Tracy," she held up her thumb and forefinger about an inch apart, "and it would have taken this much time. Don't get me wrong, I like Tracy, but . . ." "Our opinions count for squat," Patt retorted. "I'm not researching yon blonde for my own "I LUV TRACY" merit badge, you know. I'm being coerced. Spark is the one who wants to spark the woman." "Come on, baby, light my fire," Amethyst quipped. Then she sobered. "And, I take it the woman who was here at your table earlier . . . that was the mercenary you hired?" Patt nodded. "Was she successful in unearthing Tracy's turn-on?" Patt shrugged. "She said she was, but it doesn't matter. I can't pay her price." "Which is?" Patt looked at Amethyst full in the face, then burst out laughing. "Something which I couldn't obtain in a lifetime and you could probably walk in and clean out of a lavatory." Amethyst made a sour expression, thinking of the possibilities. "I'm afraid to ask," she finally responded. "A lock of hair," Patt said grimly, her eyes dimming. "A lock of Nick Knight's hair." Amethyst's eyes began to gleam. "How desperate are you . . . for one of Nick's curls?" Patt refocused, startled. "Desperate? Pretty desperate. Why?" Amethyst leaned forward, a devilish expression on her face. "Well . . ." In a few moments, the patrons of Tang's Wok-Right-In were startled at the spectacle of a rather large woman hopping from table to table within the restaurant, a near hysterical Mr. Chin chasing after her. The woman was balancing a beer bottle on her nose, reciting a litany which sounded like: "Knightie Dogs Rule, Nick is Sexy, LaCroix *is* Bald, Knightie Dogs Rule . . ." *********************************** patt79ad@juno.com NA: Infection Written by: Fleurette Starring: Debbie & N&Ners Susan and Marie by permission Time: Friday, Noon-ish, after "A BIt of Reprogramming" Place: University of TO Library and Merc HQ (by permission) ************ Debbie sat in front of the computer, hoping that no one noticed that she did not belong anywhere *near* the University of Toronto and therefore should not have been using their computers. These computers, after all, were for the students use. But she needed someplace to work that would not implicate Nunkies Anonymous too greatly. When the N&Ner's found out what she was about to do... she smiled to herself. Grinning, she typed on-- putting the finishing touches on a new Website. It was loaded with the prettiest pictures of Nick and Nat she could find. she thought. How could *anyone* like the thought of Nat spending the rest of her life with *him*? Didn't they know that LaCroix was her perfect match? Her soul-mate? Oh, well... it wasn't as if this web page was for her use anyway. It wasn't. This particular web page was going to help her bring down the Nick&NatPackers once and for all. Well, temporarily, at least. She switched now to the Hotmail HOmepage and carefully created yet another hotmail account. Anonymously, of course. Then she sent her first and only message using the new account. All the while, she was grinning like a cheshire cat. she thought again. Once the message was sent, she had to go back and tell Jules what punishment she had devised for the Nick&NatPackers. They'd tried to "bug" 3 of her friends, and so they must pay. All Debbie had done was returned the favor with some reprogramming of her own. ******** Susan was just turning on the computer at the N&Npacker HQ when Marie walked into the room. "You know, I don't think you should be using that computer, Susan," Marie said. "That's were all our important stuff is being stored." "I'm only going to check my E-mail. Who knows if I didn't get anything important." Susan logged into her account and crowed triumphantly. "See! I told you I had mail!" The message read thusly: Attention all N&N Packers! Check this out! I just discovered a brand new Website dedicated to Nick and Nat. It has down-loadable stuff like full sized posters, screen savers, backgrounds, and lots of neat-o pics! There are even screen captures of never-before-seen episodes. That means there must be eps that never aired! Isn't that great? Maybe we can start a letter writing campaign to get them aired! The addy is: http://www.nickandnat.com Check it out! Nick&Nat Lover ************** Susan clicked on the address without a second thought. All she *could* think about was getting her hands on the never-before-seen screen captures before anyone else did. As the website came up, her face fell. "Oh no!" Marie cried. "What happened?" Instead of seeing pictures of Nick and Nat, the two women saw only a full-screen pictured of Nat and LaCroix in each other's arms. Scrolling across the screen were the words "Nat & LaCroix Forever!" in flashing lights. "Get rid of it before someone sees it!" Marie told Susan in a panicky voice. "I can't!" Sure enough, no matter what key Susan hit, the horrible sight would not go away. She turned off the computer, re-booting. Instead of Windows, the Nat & LaCroix picture came up, its legend floating across the screen! "Ahhh!!!!!!!!!!" Both women screamed. ********** Debbie smiled to herself once again as she got out of Hotmail and left the University Library. She'd been there all night and needed to get sleep. What had she done? She'd embedded a computer virus into the fake website using Java Script. As soon as the Nick&Nat Packers access the site looking for new pics, the virus down loads to their computer and sets up the Nat & LaCroix Screen saver-- which cannot be replaced by mormal means. No... the Nick&Nat Packers would has to dismantle the virus in order to removed the offensive graphic, and if they *did*, they would also wipe their computer's memory clean. If they didn't, they still couldn't use the computer for anything-- except maybe to look at Nat and LaCroix kissing. Grinning, Debbie made her way back to the Shrine to tell her High Priestess the good news. The End (for now) ** The WebSite mentioned in this story does not exist. Fleurette-- fleurettebrabant@hotmail.com --Playing with the NSVV (NA) in her first War ***************************************************** WAR: Chariots of Fire (1/2), or We're Not Crazy--Just Don't Startle the Horses by Jayne Leitch, with invaluable assistance from various addicts. All addicts used with their permission. Since Lacroix isn't actually here, I didn't think I had to ask permission. 'Kay??:) Time: the Crack O' Dawn, Sunday, May 3rd. Place: the Shrine to Nunkies The Not-So-Vestal-Virgins were becoming bored. The War was in full swing; many of them had already been in the midst of at least one dastardly (but fun!) plot, and they were all responsible for keeping the Shrine safe and secure, but even so, the Not-So's were entering mid-battle letdown. In any War, mid-battle letdown is not a good thing. It causes lapses in attention. Tendencies to nap. Daydreams that become a little too real. And, in extreme cases, it can cause warm and fuzzy feelings towards The Enemy. It can happen to anyone, at any time, in any War, for no apparent reason. The NSVV's were entering this most feared of all states. And it wasn't pretty... ********** "I'm bo-ored!" Jade whined loudly and plaintively at the other addicts, scuffing her sandals on the polished Shrine floor. "So check the security tapes again." Jesse suggested, not turning her gaze from a particularly well-hung Nunkies tapestry. "We can never be too sure that the perimeters haven't been compromised." Glennis rolled over on her lounger, raising her eyebrows. "Perimeters? Compromised? Where'd you learn stuff like that?" Jesse shrugged, wiping away a spot of drool. "Austin Powers." There was a half-hearted *sproing* from the direction of the trampoline, then a loud sigh. "I don't even feel like bouncing," Kusine told the others from her sprawl on the gently moving mesh. "I should hope not." Patt shook her head, smiling a little. "We'd have to send you off to the NatPack, then." She took another swig of beer, then joined in with a sigh of her own. "Well, this is amusing." The NSVV's murmured their agreement. Many of them were in the main room, either staring at the tapestries like Jesse or lounging over various surfaces like the others. There were, however, a few in other parts of the Shrine; Kristine, Dragon Sallie, and Shele were in the Library, writing special Wartime fantasies (many of which included Nunkies with a very large sword), Jan, Joni, and Beth were sitting idly by the Sacred Cold Pond, wishing that their official NSVV togas and breastplates were waterproof, Susan, Rosalie, and Christina were doing something in the Lab/Kitchen involving Chris' thermos of Whammy Juice, and KC Susan and Jayne were sitting beside the chariots, reading books with names like, "Chariots of Fire: Master the Horse and Whip in Five Easy Steps" and "Be an Extra in Ben-Hur in Only Three Days!" It was absorbing reading. Finally, Sukh, the latest addict to go through an intervention, was holed up in the video room. She wasn't watching anything, because she was too bored to get up and put a video in the VCR. Instead, she lay staring up at the ceiling, thinking up new Anti-Nunklear Devices. "Let's see...I already have the whole kitty present list..." she raised a sleepy eyebrow and amended, "No, there's also 'kitty presents on today's paper before you've read it'. Now, what else...?" Her fearful musings were interrupted by a voice. "Please, my dear, cease these morbid thoughts." Sukh froze, sure that her ears were playing tricks on her. Slowly, she turned around, her eyes wide with disbelief. "It can't be..." It was. Hovering a few inches off the floor right in front of the closed door was Lacroix, his arms folded, his mouth set in a frown of extreme distaste. A soft, warm light diffused from his being, shining on the addict, making her feel lightheaded. "Come, Sukh, you seem to be to not think of me." He arched an eyebrow and added silkily, "Wouldn't you rather bask in thoughts of me, and delight in my imagined presence?" The NSVV (the addict furthest into mid-battle letdown) nodded dumbly. "Yeah..." "Well then." Lacroix held out his hand, beckoning her. "Come to me." Obediently, Sukh stood up and walked towards him. But when she reached his side--"Lacroix?" "Over here." Sukh spun around and saw that the master vampire was now behind her and across the room. "Come to me..." He began to look blurry, as if he was made out of cotton balls, then suddenly, he disappeared altogether. Sukh's eyes widened. She couldn't see him anymore, but his voice still called to her, "Come to me..." She shook herself. "Nunkies wants me to go to him!" she told herself. "I have to find him! I have to!" Spinning on her heel, she turned and raced out of the video room. ********** "So, if I've read this diagram right..." Jayne looked from the picture in her book to the harnessed horses in front of her critically, "This be the way to do it. KC?" KC Susan stood back from her own two horses and chariot, a smile spreading across her face. Even though she'd had a chariot experience already, she felt that her technique needed improvement. "I've got it too!" she exclaimed happily. "There's no I won't get that badge now!" The smile turned wicked, and she raised an eyebrow at Jayne. "Wanna take 'em for a ride?" Jayne's eyes sparkled evilly at the thought, then dimmed as she became rational. "Maybe we shouldn't. My friend at the stables told me that if anything happened to these guys," she gestured at the six horses--two to each chariot--that she'd 'borrowed', "She'd force-feed me str*wberries until I explode. I'd rather not do that." (Somehow, she'd managed to pronounce the * in the dreaded berry word. KC was impressed.) Jayne turned and stroked the nearest horse's flanks. "It's a shame. A full-blown chariot race would be ..." Jayne didn't get to finish the thought, for at that moment a crazed-looking Sukh burst into the room, looking around frantically. "Nunkies!" she gasped, her breastplate heaving as she tried to catch her breath. "I must go to him!" KC arched her eyebrows. "Suuuure you do. Wouldn't you rather stay here and guard the Shrine like a good little Vestal?" Sukh shook her head wildly. "No! He came to me! He wants me to go to him!" Caren, having heard the delusional addict's cries, entered the room. "Is it just me, or did that statement make no sense whatsoever?" Jayne walked up to Sukh and placed a hand on her arm. "You're in mid-battle letdown, Sukh," she told her gently. "It was just a fantasy. Lacroix is probably all the way over at CERK." "Besides which," Caren added, "The sun's coming up. No would he be caught across town at daybreak during a War." Still shaking her head, the crazed addict shook off her friends. "No! He needs me! I have to go!" And with that, she pushed aside the others and leapt aboard the nearest chariot. "Take me to him!" she cried. The horses, who weren't really used to being harnessed to gilded chariots, and who were actually kind of jumpy to begin with, jolted ahead when Sukh's enthusiastic jump shook the reins on their backs. As the surprised addicts watched, the chariot began a plodding acceleration towards the open door, and then the end of the alley. Sukh, after gaining her balance, held onto the reins tightly, crying out, "NUNKIES HO!!!!" Jayne stood watching for a moment, then shook herself. "We have to go after her! There's no telling what she'll do when she's like this!" She ran to another chariot and hopped aboard, being careful not to flick the reins. "Caren! Go back and tell the others what happened! Maybe we can get them to drive ahead in someone's car and block Sukh off!" Caren nodded and hurried off. KC grinned and got into the last chariot. "Heigh ho, Silver!" she cried, taking up the reins and tossing a gleeful look at Jayne. "Let's see what these babies can really do!" The two NSVV's-turned-Charioteers flicked the reins and braced themselves as the lumbering vehicles jolted off after their depraved comrade... ********** Caren burst into the Shrine. "We've got a problem! Sukh's gone crazy and she's stolen a chariot and Jayne and KC have gone after her!!!" The other addicts looked up from their bored preoccupations, startled. "What?!?!" "We have to go after them!" Caren told them. "They were headed east on Queen!" "Well." Patt stood up quickly, patting her pockets for the keys to her truck. "I guess we aren't bored anymore, are we?..." She immediately took charge. "Okay, I can take two, maybe three more in my truck. Anyone else with vehicles, take 'em and try to get ahead of Sukh. Everyone else...RUN!" The addicts scattered...leaving the Shrine empty. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ To be continued in Chariots of Fire (2/2): "Vestal Virgins Get the Right Of Way". Jayne Leitch WAR: Chariots of Fire (2/2), or Vestal Virgins Get the Right Of Way by Jayne Leitch, with stuff from other addicts All addicts still used with their permission. Screed appears courtesy of the RatPack Leaders. (Thanks John and Libby!!) Time: still the Crack O' Dawn, Sunday the 3rd, right after Part One Place: the Streets of Toronto (do I smell a filk?) and Queen's Park Jayne and KC were slowly gaining on Sukh. Or, they would have been, if it wasn't for all the traffic in between them. Despite the rather ungodly hour, the streets were packed with cars, busses, and the occasional streetcar, all of which seemed to be conspiring to block the chariots' path. KC seemed to have a method of dealing with the Sunday morning drivers. Said method involved hasty but explicit arm gestures and language more naturally found in a University pub at Last Call. Having just frightened a cab driver onto the sidewalk, Susan grinned maniacally. *Who says I'm a road rage risk?* Jayne's methods were simpler, and somewhat kinder. Hers involved excess lung capacity, seven years' worth of vocal training, and projection. Also, quick work with the reins. She and KC had managed to stay level with each other since turning onto the street, and every so often they'd yell comments at each other: "LOOK! SHE'S TURNING ONTO UNIVERSITY!!!" "I SEE HER!! (HEY, BUDDY! MOVE IT OR LOSE IT!!) SHE'LL RUN INTO QUEEN'S PARK CIRCLE SOON!!" "I ([arm gesture] LOOK OUT, YA MORON!!) KNOW! WE HAVE TO CATCH HER!!!" And so on. Luckily, the sight of three chariots racing madly down the street was enough to alert the early-morning drivers that they might have to detour suddenly, so there weren't too many near-misses. Jayne hoped that their luck would hold out, screamed a warning to a pedestrian carrying a big box, and held on for dear life as she rounded the corner on one wheel and kept up pursuit... ********** Patt, Sallie, and Caren didn't have the advantage of sticking out to help them deal with traffic, but they made do. Patt's truck sped through the streets, the mature addict's hand pressed firmly over the horn. "What's this street?" Caren squinted at the sign as they approached. "Bay street!" "Good. Hold on..." Bracing herself, Patt spun the wheel, cutting across the lanes and ignoring the angry honks of the other vehicles on the road. The wheels made an uncomfortable squealing noise, and then they were headed north. "Um, Patt?" Dragon Sallie looked up from where her talons had gouged holes in the truck's seat. "What's the plan?" "They turned left onto University just as we left the parking lot," Patt explained above the noise of the horn. "Our best bet is to pass 'em here, then block Sukh off when she gets to Bloor. The circle gives us some time, so if we hurry..." she snaked around a stalled car without letting up on the gas, then finished, "...We can turn her around, and maybe get her back to the Shrine." ********** Sukh didn't know where she was going, or where she was. She knew Toronto well enough normally, but normally she wasn't under the spell of a mid-battle letdown vision. She could handle the chariot well enough, and managed to only scrape its gilded side once against a stubborn streetcar. She yelled at the people aboard. "NUUUNNKIEEEESSSSSS!!!!" ********** Louis Cabon's car was filled to capacity and then some. The maitre d', however, was nowhere to be seen. "Do you think Louis'll mind that we took his car?" Susan asked concernedly. "He might need it." Shele shook her head. "Naw. He hardly ever uses it, anyway. And considering how easy it was to hotwire..." Rosalie giggled. "He won't even know it's gone!" "There they are! Up ahead!" Joni pointed at the shapes of Jayne and KC's chariots up ahead, parting the cars before them like Moses and the Red Sea. "They look like they could use some help." Kristine strained to see how close the chariots got to each vehicle. "They'd better not wreck them!" she said anxiously. "I want that badge!" "We should act as honour guard." Jade glanced at the other addicts smooshed in around her. "We can drive alongside them and make sure other cars don't get too close." "Excellent idea." Glennis' hands tightened around the steering wheel as her foot pushed down harder on the gas. "I say we go for it." Cabon's car sped towards the chariots. ********** The remaining addicts had decided that, even though they were vehicle-ly deprived, they had to watch the pursuit. So, they'd flagged a taxi on the Peach's front steps. The driver, an aging man wearing glasses and a very obvious combover (*Obviously in the first stages of Hairclub for Men membership,* Kusine thought) didn't even get to ask where to take them. "Follow those chariots!" Jesse hollered as she plopped herself into the back seat. The driver blinked. "Ya mean the ones turning onto University?" "No, you brick, the ones flying through the air like vampires. Of the ones turning!" Christina hurled back. She smiled. "Please." The driver blinked again. ("Great. A Vachon wannabe," Kusine whispered to Jan. Jan grinned.) "Okay." He signalled, looked left, then right, then left again, then started nosing out onto the street... "Could you possibly go a *teensy* bit faster?" Beth asked, irritated. "I am not missing this. Not for all the Nunkies pops in the world." "Yeah, Speedy." Jan pulled a Nunkies pop out, staring at it worshipfully. "Exquisite though they may be..." "Okay, okay." The cabbie pressed his foot down a millimetre. "Better?" Kusine glared. "Gosh, you mean we're actually moving? I would have known." She turned to look balefully out the window at the slowly moving scenery. *If only my car had started...* The cabbie glared back. "The things I put up with for a padded fare," he muttered. Jesse arched an eyebrow. "What was that?" "Nothing, nothing..." The cab putted along, put...put...put......put.......put......... ********** Sukh handled the chariot around the Queen's Park Circle easily. She could see the Royal Ontario Museum just ahead, and shifted into turning position. "Here I come, Nunkies!" Suddenly, a maroon truck with a white camper shell was right in front of her, angled across the intersection, blocking her path. Sukh could see three addicts climbing out of the vehicle, waving their arms at her. She cursed quickly and threw her weight against the side of the chariot, pulling desperately at the reins. The horses pulled up, slowing down frantically and turning to the left. The chariot slid on the pavement, tilting crazily as it turned, and Sukh held on even tighter. Finally, the right wheel thudded to the ground again, and she was facing back the way she'd come. Sukh shook her head, regaining her equilibrium, then flicked the reins again. "Onward!!!" she screamed, leaving the stunned Patt, Sallie, and Caren behind to watch her hurtle back towards Jayne and KC. ********** Screed was stuck. In the park. At daybreak. With his bicycle. "Aye am fer cer-stain in a bi' o' a jammy-jam, Aye am." He cowered in the shadow of a tree, clutching the handlebars of his push-bike firmly. He'd thought of ducking into a sewer, but his bike wouldn't fit, and there was no way he'd leave it behind. "Me goose iz cooked! Me gozlin's deep-fried! An' oll Aye wanted wuz a lil' parksie-mouse!" Suddenly, the carouche was alerted to a commotion coming towards him from the street. He turned around to see a wild scene: a chariot, occupied by a screaming woman in a mini-toga, with two other seemingly identical chariots coming up behind it. He watched as the first chariot confronted a truck, somehow got itself turned around, then barrelled off the way it had come. The woman driving it yelled something incomprehensible when she came up against the two other chariots, then she made another swift turn onto a street not far from his tree. "Cor..." The truck, the other two chariots, and a green car all followed it to the place it had turned, then they all slowed to a halt. Screed, realizing that all the women were wearing togas, hurried out from behind his tree. "--After her," he heard one of the women in a chariot say as he came up to the group. "She'll get in trouble." "I agree." Screed recognized this one as the owner of the truck. "We can use all the vehicles we have." "We need to go now!" the other chariot driver said, a wicked gleam in her eye. "She'll get too far away too quickly. We have to go!" "Um, beggin' me yer pardonnez-vouz," Screed spoke up. The women looked at him, surprise on their faces. "But Aye's in need o' sum aid. Fer me push-bike." The women blinked at him. "Screed." The first charioteer spoke in a monotone. "Get into a sewer. It's almost day, for crying out loud!" "No-no, Aye gots me shiney-pretty bike wi' me!" The carouche used his best Baby Jane look. "Yer oll Monkies, sew yew kin mebbe git it back tew me Ratsie-tunnels!" He glanced at the lightening sky meaningfully, then pushed the bicycle towards them. "Fer me?" The women exchanged looks, the impatient charioteer pointedly looking at her watch. "Weellll..." "Thankee!" Knowing when he'd won, Screed shoved the bike at them, and hightailed it to a manhole cover. Jayne watched the vampire disappear, then looked down at his bicycle. "We don't have time for this." "We can keep the bike safe while you go after Sukh," Glennis offered, gesturing back at Cabon's car. "We'll follow you after we secure it to the...trunk, or something." Jayne raised her eyebrows. "Sure?" The others nodded, and she smiled. "Okay, then!" She pushed the vehicle at the car, then climbed back aboard her chariot. "This could take a while if we lose her," she warned the others. They all nodded. "Right then. Ready?" KC took up the reins. "When am I not?" "Good." Picking up her own reins, Jayne squared her shoulders. "Onward!" Once again, the chariots lumbered off down the street, their drivers shrieking at the vehicles that got in their way, their hair streaming in the slipstream, their curses floating on the wind... ~~~~~~~~~~~~~ End. Jayne Leitch P.S.-- I would like to dedicate this war post to Once A Thief. It was well on the way to becoming one of the best TV shows I've ever seen, until TPTB got in the way. Kudos to MR, VM, LT, TD, JJ, NM, D, MM, and MC. Who's Gonna Burn When the Tables Get Turned? Part 1/2 by Laurie Mercbard, Screedspeak by Mayan Rain Starring: Laurie and Anna, the Littlest Ratpacker Time: Friday evening, eventually heading toward midnight Following: Vaqs: Debbie and Maria's Excellent Adventure and The Chipmunk That Roared The fairies were gone. And chocolate was at hand. Laurie MercBard, comfortably settled in the bathtub of the church's evil pink bathroom, came suddenly awake, her nose sniffing the air at the familiar scent. Her hand slowly snaked out, seeking what she instinctively knew she had to have, could not live without, would go through fire for, would sell the little bit left of her soul for. Addicts, dead addicts, hundreds of them, thousands of them, millions of them, dead dead dead. For the present, chocolate would have to suffice. Her hand connected with a cookie, and she jerked it back in shock. She could move! Was it possible? Was the nightmare finally over? She cracked open one eyelid. And closed it immediately. Nope, she was wrong. Had to be. She couldn't be free. Freedom implied choice, specifically that she had chosen of her own free will to ensconce herself in a bathtub in an evil pink bathroom. *That* would never happen. She hated pink. Almost as much as she hated ... Still, something was different. For starters, she had been correct; she *could* move her hands. And her feet. As she experimented with her tongue, a few drops of water from the shower head hit her squarely in the face, and her hand instinctively flew upwards, swatting at fan fic fairies that were no longer there. That convinced her. That and the chocolate cookie in her hand. In one fluid movement, the GHP opened both eyes wide, sat up, and began frantically shoving chocolate cookies into her mouth. * * * Anna, the littlest Ratpacker, perched forlornly on the curb. "We'ze lost," she informed her ratsie companions, who nickered at her before returning their attention to the spoils in the gutter. She looked around mournfully. "Sum Merc Oi am. Oi can''t even foynd me way t' a party, le' alone foynd a missin' Poobah." At the mention of the Poobah, the ratsies began clinging to Anna's leg in terror. Hit''s okay,"" Anna comforted them. ""Oi''m sure she don'' mean it when she talks 'bout bakin' ratsie pies. 'Ow could ennyone be so crew-el to sumwuns a' wonderful as yew?"" Picking herself up, she started down the road, the ratsies following behind in single file. "We moight a' well keep walkin'. We''ll get sumwhere even-choo- ally, Oi''m sure. Oi mean, yew *can* get there from here,cain''t yew?"" * * * Two dozen cookies later, Laurie was her old self. She sat on the tile floor, momentarily content, munching away as images of headless Addicts denied their Nunkies filled her mind. That led to thoughts of Nunkies pops, and her and her newly restored cool almost disappeared. The Poobah got a grip on herself. She knew where she was now. During the last war she had heard the terrible tales of the Vaqueros' evil pink bathroom . "I'm sure this is it," she thought. "There can be only one." The how and why of her arrival there seemed trivial. Yes, technically, she was still a prisoner, as the bathroom door was locked from the outside. Whoever had brought her here could not mean her too much harm; they had left her both untied and with sustenance. Much as the Vaqs, like their leader, could be slightly spacy, they, unlike some *other* soon to be headless faction - would not be so stupid as to hold the Grand High Poobah of the Mercenary Guild captive for long. She still had a few dozen chocolate cookies to go. One thing at a time. Revenge would soon be hers and heads would roll. *** Anna, being a Ratpacker, noticed the smell blocks before a normal human would have, and sniffed the air appreciatively. "Hm,, wot's that?" She couldn't resist the wonderful aroma, and followed the trail to a church. She could immediately tell this was no ordinary church. *This* particular church had huge pink camels, shedding huge clumps of pink camel hair all over the place, roaming its grounds. Not a shred of green grass could be seen; the lawn was covered in pink. Anna thought, reminding herself to tell Johnsie about this, if she *ever* saw him again. A pile of rubble in the middle of the lawn caught her eye, and she spent a few happy minutes exploring the inside. It was, she quickly discovered, a car - that is, it had been once upon a time. Now it was just a burnt-out wreck. A burnt-out wreck with yellow marshmallow Peeps inside. Anna dove on them and scarfed the squishy yellow candies down, then continued with her fun. Eventually, she emerged, clutching a handful of prize shiny bits that she was pretty sure must have been part of the engine once. She glanced around, and spotted a few sliding up and down a camel hump. Two had pulled out lawn chairs and were settling in for the long haul. They ignored Anna's pleas to come down, until she had to climb up after them. She didn't mind the pink camel hairs that clung to her clothing; she thought they were rather pretty. Maintaining a hold on a pink camel with ratsies using its hump as a roller coaster was not an easy task. Anna slid to the ground in front of a small, barricaded window. She started as she heard a sound from inside, and peered through the opening. Her eyes opened wide. "Yikes," she squealed. She looked again. Could it be? Had she, a newbie Ratpacker, who had barely appeared in any war stories so far, who hadn't even completed a job, have found the missing GHP? Would the glory, and, most importantly, the chocolate Nunkies pops, be hers? * * * Date: Fri, 1 May 1998 23:08:46 +0600 Reply-To: Laurie Schlagel Sender: Forever Knight TV show stories Comments: Authenticated sender is From: Don Fasig Subject: WAR: MERC: Who's Gonna Burn When the Tables Get Turned? Part 2/2 To: FKFIC-L@lists.psu.edu X-UIDL: 1db8b819add2edfbd74fb1b5ed0d34a6 Who's Gonna Burn When the Tables Get Turned? Part 2/2 by Laurie Mercbard, Screedspeak by Mayan Rain Starring: Laurie and Anna, the Littlest Ratpacker Time: Friday evening, eventually heading toward midnight The GHP had finished all available cookies, and failed miserably in picking the bathroom lock. she muttered, although she wasn't sure how to pick a lock with your front teeth had been one of the lectures. For the evil pink bathroom was totally empty of all objects, save for one Grand High Poobah and a small pile of cookie crumbs. Nope, none of the standard objects usually used in the movies by Grand High Poobahs when escaping from evil pink bathrooms were available. She'd occupied the passing time by trying to reconstruct the chain of events that had led her here. Her last memory had been of Patt tormenting her with elastic underwear at the Shrine. She *did* have a vague memory, almost like a bad dream, of Michael Bolton, in a bikini, singing in a cornfield, while Mackie the Mole waved her arms and yelled "Danger! Danger! Warning! Warning!". she thought. But at present there was one thing even more important than profit, and that was ... NA heads perched on poles in the backyard of Merc Cental. She would prefer them over the front gates, but sadly, decomposing heads on ones front steps was bound to attract attention. After all, the HQ's location *was* supposed to be a secret She wondered if the Vaqs had released her from the Shrine. She couldn't imagine Jules had just let her go - they'd all been out for blood after her little mouthing off session with LaCroix. For now, pending further factual investigation, she would not kill any Vaqs. Just ... . And to cover all bases, in case the Vaqs *had* rescued her, she would have to pay them for it, too, and do it now. No GHP was going to owe a debt to anyone, least of all anyone who lived in a church with an evil pink bathroom. As she happily hummed to herself, composing a special song for payment, she heard a scratching on the bathroom's tiny window. Laurie covered her head as glass showered into the tub, and a single Ratpacker, one unknown to her, accompanied by six ratsies, tumbled through the tiny opening that had been created, into the tub. The tiny Packer picked herself up, and stood staring open mouthed at the catsuited woman. The ratsies hid behind her legs. "Don't just stand there. Pick the lock." the GHP ordered. For the first, and she was sure, *only* time, she was actually glad to see a member of Johnsie's crew. Anna didn't say a word. The GHP had always terrified her. She reached into her jacket and pulled out a pile of tangled objects, finally locating a piece of wire. Within moments, Anna, the GHP, and the ratsies were standing in the center of the church. * * * The GHP's first order of business was to make herself at home. She needed a shower, she needed heads on a platter, she needed new clothes, she needed to indulge in a little mindless torture, she needed food, she needed to burn down a holy temple. Leaving Anna and the ratsies to play with the assorted piles dotting the room, she went to take care of her personal needs. After all, putting heads on poles would be much more entertaining if she was clean, fed, and well- clad. Twelve showers later, the GHP had removed the last remnants of fairy poop and drool that her quick dip into the sacred cold pond - she could feel herself foaming again - had missed. The pool reminded her of her confrontation with LC, which in turn led to a slight facial twitch - had she really spoken to him like that and lived? Perhaps the fan fic fairies *had* had mercy on her soul, after all. She rustled up a change of clothing, grimacing as she pulled pink camel hair - didn't these guys ever clean up after themselves - off the teeshirt and jeans she had selected from one of the piles of personal belongings. She especially liked the heavy steel toed biker boots, imminently suitable for kicking heads across a room. She would need more than a handful of chocolate cookies to sustain her through the long hunt ahead. Her rage threatened to blow -- not only had they taken her chocolate pops, they hadn't fed her through her entire captivity. , she told herself. * * The little Ratpacker had retreated to the kitchen, and when Laurie entered, was borrowed under a mound of cereal boxes. Anna looked up at the GHP, but still didn't utter a sound. Laurie, newly washed and clad, was most definitely a clear and presentable danger. Wherever she had been, whatever she had been through, was in the past. The GHP was back and she was looking for blood. In particular the blood of ... well, you know the drill. A quick raid on the refrigerator, and within a few minutes, the GHP, Anna, and the ratsies belched contentedly, gazing around the decimated kitchen. The fridge and cabinets were empty of all edible food, down to the last butter pat. The ratsies had even tried to eat the cardboard boxes and tin cans. The GHP, restored to full health, idly wondered whether ratsies would eat member of a seven letter faction beginning wit N. Standing up, Laurie beckoned Anna to follow. She had places to go, people to behead, songs to sing, women to hang. One final debt to pay and they would be on their way. *** The task was complete. The Poobah, Anna, and the ratsies sat on the floor across from the evil pink bathroom's door, admiring their handiwork. A message in red nail polish, (a bottle had been found among a pile of personal belongings), read: Invoice: One Vaq Rescue of GHP Payment: One Javier Filk (sung by Tracy) Painted underneath that were the words: Javier (Sung to Maria from West Side Story) And then a filk: Javier . . The most frustrating guy I've ever known: Javier. Javier. Javier. Javier... How my father would freak if I wanted to bring him home. Javier. Javier. Javier. Javier... Javier! I've just met a guy named Javier When he came back to find The bit he'd left behind Of him! Javier! I've fallen in love with Javier And suddenly I've found a new world underground so grim! Javier! He's all bare and the shower's running, Saw his chest and I thought it was stunning Javier! I'll never stop wanting Javier! The most baffling guy I've ever known Javier... Anna finally found her tongue. "Wow," she said admiringly. "Wow is right," replied the GHP. She picked her rejuvenated self up from the floor, and gestured to the young Ratpacker and her companions. "Let 's go. I wanna kill me some Addicts." * * * Date: Sat, 2 May 1998 03:28:11 -0400 Reply-To: John Ewan Sender: Forever Knight TV show stories From: John Ewan Subject: WAR: MERC/RP "You Did WHAT?" Part 1/2 To: FKFIC-L@lists.psu.edu X-UIDL: 2d0dcc6471a401a1aaf985bcccd5e29f You Did WHAT? Part 1/2 by Mildred Cady and various other Mercs/RPs All mentioned with permission Time: Friday early into late evening Concurrent With: MERC: Who s Gonna Burn When the Tables Get Turned? Location: Merc Central Nothing. Absolutly nothing. That's what they had on Laurie's whereabouts. Very few rumors were going around. And all of them had turned up empty. The Poobah would have been very annoyed to realize that, except for the Mercs, no one much seemed to notice she had been gone for going on several days now. Earlier today, the location of the GHP s last sighting had been determined, when Mildred and Liz had overheard four Ratpackers, Maya, Ursula, Brianna, and Michelediscussing being at Old Merc Central with Laurie, and wondering if it might have anything to do with her disappearance. The ensuing confrontation had yielded a very important fact: the quartet had been the last Mercs to see the Poobah. They had no clue where she currently was, but were now looking for her with a single mindedness- the level of concentration that comes only when you are desperatly trying to save your butt. Mildred looked up, as Liz entered the Computer Lab. "Something is strange..." "Tell me something I don't know." Mildred cut in. She had managed to grab maybe three hours of sleep in the past two days, which was *not good*. Liz sighed and continued. "No, I'm serious. I've been at the Happy Soulvaki, and I've been noticing those chocolate Nunkie pops of Laurie s around. I know she keeps a tight control over them, yet they re turning up everywhere. Especially with those toga-wearing Addicts." "Addicts? Where could they be getting them from?" Then the proverbial lightning struck. "Laurie." At that moment, a sleepy Phillipa, Merclette #2, walked in. "I thought that Ratpackers were supposed to be messy." "They are," groaned Liz. "Well, then why is Libby straightening out and correctly labeling all the tapes in the Entertainment room?" * * * Libby hadn t been herself for several days. As each hour had passed with no GHP in sight, she became more and more nervous. The refrain in the back of her mind kept playing over and over, They's gonna find me out, Ize in trooble agin, . She was so worried that she even took a shower, hoping that the very shaking idea of a bath would get her out of her mood. It didn't. Then she had started coming up with things to do to keep her busy. First, she tried giving the ratsies a bath. When that didn't work, she found some scraps of metal from a box of computer parts and started making name tags for the ratsies and tying them on with spare wire. A pair of twins got named Niblets and Nibbles, and others were named along the lines of Choc-a-let, Breaktime, Salty, Crunchie, Treat, Oreo, Breakfast, Lunch, DinDin, Snackie, Brunch, Munchie, Chewy, Kibble, and Adelaide. Then she ran out of metal bits. But she had somehow managed to make it up till now without giving herself away. She was currently in the Entertainment room, sorting out all the Screed episode tapes, which someone had left scattered around. First, she put them in their proper cases. Then she got those little pieces of tape and wrote the names on them. Then she decided to label the entire Guild tape library. She was stacking them on the shelves in order, staving off what she knew to be inevitable, when she heard her name called. She turned around. Mildred and Lucky Liz stood in the doorway. Libby froze in her tracks. Mildred spoke. "Something wrong?" <<'Gor,>> Libby thought, <> "Uh, nope. Nutin's wrong. Everthin's OK. I wuz just... uh... 'elping Liz. Tat's roit, I wuz 'elping Lizzy." "Libby.... what have you done?" "Nuthin! As I said, nuthin. I din' say anythin' to them." "To whom?" Mildred was in her rarest mode- Inquisition. "No un." "Libby. If you do not tell me what is going on, I'm going to dig up every piece of medieval equipment I have and I'll demonstrate to you what was done to my ancestors during the Spanish Inquistion." Mildred was *not* in the mood for someone hedging. "Oi din't say nuthin, Oi swear. Din' 'now why thez asked me so many questunz. Oi din even 'ave 'alf o' the anzers 'ey wanted." "WHO?" Liz was getting almost as stressed over this than Mildred. "The Nunkies." "WHAT DID YOU TELL THEM?" "Nuthin, as Oi said. They must a followed me or sumthin, 'cuz the next thin Oi new wuz tha they 'ad 'oz pawps. An they gav me a shiny metal pan for it. Then thez put a 'ol lot o cheeze in font ta me... an Oi don ramembur much els, but..." After 30 seconds of silence, Mildred's voice boomed. "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE???" "Oi tol 'em tha' she wuz at the Old Merc gettin stuff. Then the Poohba turned up missin, an Oi think its my fault." Libby was crying now. The gig was up, so to speak- and all cause of those mean and nasty Addicts. "You - are - coming - with - me." Mildred hit a button on a small radio at her waist. "Wooby, meet me at the lab. Do we have a brig? Cause we have one little Ratpacker who is going to be in it for the rest of her life. Liz, get everyone together. We have work to do." John Ewan, Sysop | Look for me online at MPG-Net Multi-Player Games Network | as Gimli jwe@mpgn.com http://www.mpgn.com | Date: Sat, 2 May 1998 03:44:24 -0400 Reply-To: John Ewan Sender: Forever Knight TV show stories From: John Ewan Subject: WAR: MERC/RP "You Did WHAT?" Part 2/2 To: FKFIC-L@LISTS.PSU.EDU X-UIDL: a97c76b54cfbda889e9163293d253953 Status: RO You Did WHAT? Part 2/2 by Mildred Cady and various other Mercs/RPs All mentioned with permission Time: Friday early into late evening Concurrent With: MERC: Who s Gonna Burn When the Tables Get Turned? Location: Merc Central Mildred was standing next to Libby on one side. Wooby was at the other. Both had one hand on an arm, and Wooby's other hand had her bal'e'theh. Noone in the room looked particularly happy with the Ratpacker. Mildred addressed the room. "We ve got a traitor. I m pretty sure the Addicts have Laurie. She was last seen at Old Merc Central - - here she looked around for the errant foursome, but they were not in sight - Libby told them she was going to be there. And we ve had reports of NA members showing up all over town with chocolate Nunkies pops. Laurie wouln t be giving those away of her own free will, that s for sure. Libby couldn t stop sobbing. No one moved to give her a tissue, and since Mildred and Wooby had her arms, tears and nose dribble were running down her face. "Before we deal with *her,* - here Mildred pointed an accusatory finger at the soon to be defendent, we ve got to confirm this intelligence, and if true, rescue Laurie from those lunatics. She looked again at Libby. Who knows what those people will do to her? They re well known to be obsessively compulsively deranged. Like we are about profit ... and chocolate, someone muttered. Wooby glared at the culprit. Johnsie looked shocked by these developments."Hoh, Libster, yew losted da Grand 'igh Pain-inna-Butt? That haint loik tha time Oi losted the pen outta the set ya boosted frum 'er hoffice!" Libbster's eyes went wide, "yew losted me pen! I luved that pen! Loike it wuz me own, I did!!" Johnsie started shaking his head."Haint da same, an' all spilt milk hunder the bridge. Wuzzn't a good pen no'ow, dint write upside down." "Can we get back to finding out where the GHP is?!?" Liz yelled. Libby and Johnsie spun in Ratpackerly unison, "NO!" before returning to their previous stances. Libby s head dropped. "I's sorry, I's payin' 'tenshun," she replied and then softly to side, "But *I* dint get ta try hit; mighta writ upsidedownsie fer *me*! After all, the pen alwayz liked *me* best. Might've even writ udderwater, in a car, in a bar, in a coat, in a goat.... It might've writ anywhere!" Johnsie muttered, "nah, hit wuddint." Libby muttered right back, "It wudda, hif I cuddda." The other Mercs tried to follow this, but in a few minutes, much to everyone else's relief, they finished by sticking their tongues out at each other, and retreating into sulky silence. Ratpacker Anne took the moment of silence to call out, "Kidnapped! Did they hask fer a ransom?" Three or four Mercs chimed in in almost perfect unison "Nah, they knew we'd never pay it." "Oh, right." Spymistress Jennifer looked thoughful for a second, "They'll be expecting a rescue attempt, so that will make it all the more difficult." Some ratpacker spoke out from the corner of the room, "'ey, 'owz 'bout we *dunt* dew a res-Q hattempt and confooz'em?" Everyone turned and glared at him, and he just nodded and shut up. "Actually, he has an idea." Everyone turned around to look at Mildred. "I'm serious. Look, that big party at the Raven starts soon. Addicts are bound to be there. I say, let s watch them at the party, and if they behave suspiciously, we can confront them. We'll have Laurie home safe and sound soon, I promise." She turned to Libby and Johnsie. "This is going to be the most difficult job you ratPackers have every attempted. We cannot let them know we are on to them, so everyone must act normal." She sighed, "You two, and your bunch, need to be there making a nuisance of yourselves but without any property damage!" All the RatPacker, in one voice, exclaimed, "'uh-UNH!" followed by the cacophony of voices, "Can't b' dun!" "'ow we gonna 'ave hany *fun*?" "Oi can't b'lieve yew did that!" "Never gonna 'appen." "Dew yew want that?" "Yeah, hit's mine!" "Oi saw hit first!" "Maybe wifout *signifeecant* property damage?" "Um, deefine *signifeecant*." Title: Th' Drinks R On Yew Time: After "It's Nae Toga Party" and "You did WHAT?" and several drinks; Saturday, May 2, very, very early Place: the Raven Written by Kusine, with input from John the Ratpacker and Laurie Beta-ed by Jesse, who's truly nifty. All that appear have graciously given their permission, even though they didn't know what was going to happen to them. ************************* Glennis was emptying her pockets of change and encouraging Beth, Sherry, Sukh, and Kusine to do the same. "If we pool all our money," she expostulated loudly, "We can each get another drink ... Except for Kusine, who's driving." "She could have another Diet Coke(tm)," Beth pointed out as she dumped a handful of coins on the table. "Were she amenable to non-alcoholic libation, Kusine could most definitely partake," Sherry intoned seriously. The tipsy addicts stared at Sherry, who broke into a goofy, self-satisfied grin. They looked at each other, confused. Kusine, the self-declared designated driver, remembered the last time she'd gotten drunk with the addicts. That had resulted in shopping duties as well as a screaming hangover; she wasn't about to make that mistake again. Never again. Nope. Never. ... At least not tonight. "That was very polysol- ... palysyb- ... wordy," Sukh observed. With much poking and encouragement, all pockets and wallets were emptied onto the table. Kusine, as the only one still able to reach the same sum twice in a row, counted out the coins. She separated them into tidy piles: double loonies, loonies, quarters, dimes, nickels, and pennies (except for the three shiny ones, which Kusine surrupticiously slipped into her backpack when the addicts all turned to watch a particularly nice behind walk by). Kusine was about to announce the grand total when a voice was heard next to her. "'allo." Looking up from their change scrounging, the addicts saw a grubby face topped by an aviator's cap: Libby. Immediately, ten hands reached out to cover the all-too-Ratpacker-tempting coinage. "What do *you* want?" Glennis asked suspiciously. "Oi jest came ta say 'allo ta me Nunkies-wunkies friends, oi did," the Ratpacker relplied, sounding hurt. "Oi wuz jest bein' so-shul-like. It *iz* a par-tee," she pointed out. As she spoke, she leaned on the lable, her ratsie paw sliding very casually across the table towards the money. Beth, who had been watching, let her get within a centimetre of her prize before she slapped it. "Ow!" She yanked her paw back and cradled it to her chest like an injured animal. "Tha' 'urt! Oi wuz jest lookin'" "One peruses with one's ocular protrubences, not one's digits," Sherry commented dryly. Libby looked blank. "You look with your eyes, not your hands," Sukh translated. "Why's she talkin' like a pr'fesser?" the Ratpacker asked, sliding into the seat next to Sukh. "She gets like that after a few drinks," Kusine explained. Another body shoved into the booth next to Kusine. All the addicts turned to look: it was another Ratpacker. He was glowing. "You're pink," said Glennis, calmly stating the obvious. "Oi am," he said proudly. "an' frum wot ya wuz sayin' shez sequipedalian when hinebriated!" He continued, gesturing towards Sherry. "Oi've bin nown ta be sesquipedal meself hat toimes." There was a moment of silence as the addicts pondered this comment. Having no response for it, the conversation lagged. "Johnsie," Libby said suddenly, "Theys don' trust a low-lee Ratpacker." "Aw, think yer dis-honist, dew they?" the other RPer sympathized. He leaned back in the comfort of the booth, his hand resting lightly on the edge of the table. "Oi no what yew meen, jest gnu they wud. No rest fer the wik-ed, ther izn't. 'Sides which, ya haint low-lee, yez the sekund in Hun-CO-mand o' the RatPack. Not much greater 'onor, nor more bizzy job. Why, honly t'other day, oi sed ta meself, 'Self--'" Libby reached out her paw again to snag some shiny pretties, almost against her will, but Glennis slapped her hand away this time. While all attention was focused on her, there was a flurry of movement from Johnsie. Everyone turned to him. He was smiling innocently. "Wot?" "What did you do?" Beth accused. "What manner of object has the felon perloined?" Sherry inquired. "Gimme," Kusine said, holding out her hand and slipping into Screedspeak. "It's ours. Git'chyer own." "Oi didn' take nuthin'" Johnsie said sullenly, holding his grubby hands close to his chest as he shrugged. "We're not wunted heer," Libby said and stood. Johnsie got up and they two Ratpackers scurried into the crowd. The addicts exchanged looks ranging from relief to confusion. With a shrug, Kusine re-counted their change, only to find it several significant shiny, pretty coins short. ************************************** Kusine sat at the booth by herself, the pounding in her head beginning to keep time with the loud music. She had given up her Diet Coke(tm) to feed the other addicts' alcohol beasts and was now feeling the effects of that deprivation. //If the Ratpackers hadn't snagged the shiny coins, I'd be caffiennated by now,// Kusine thought wretchedly. Her fellow addicts were dancing, but Kusine had no taste for it this night; she preferred to watch the other patrons. Looking out across the club, Kusine could see Jules, the High "I'm-Gonna-Give-You-Grout-Duty" Priestess, all sparkly in one of her sequined dresses. Kusine had tried one of them on recently -- the purple and gold one -- but since the HP hadn't complained, Kusine figured she didn't know and was safe. That meant Jesse hadn't ratted on her; she'd given the little fink some chocolate to hold her tongue. Kusine sighed. The dress hadn't even looked good on her. Over in another corner, Kusine could see Laura, the traitorous frog-a-phobic. The Dark Perk was watching the crowd with attentive eyes, undoubtedly searching for the ones who had defiled her Pinkmobile. Kusine smiled inwardly at the amphibaphobe's discomfort: it was good to be devious. Then she saw the most horrible sight of her life: the Grand High Kidnappee. She no longer wore the lovely leather catsuit she had been shoe-horned into in the Shrine: she was clean and in new clothes. She'd been ... *rescued*!! Gesticulating wildly, Kusine managed to attract the attention of her friends on the dance floor. Not realizing the importance of what she wanted, they finished the song, then sauntered leisurely back to the booth. Kusine had no time to explain to her companions the seriousness of their situation before she saw the determined forms heading across the club towards them. Laughing still, the other addicts crowded around the table and picked up their abandoned Nunkies pops. //This is not good, // Kusine thought. //I'm going to be ill.// Just then, like demons in a low budget film, the mercs appeared. ****************************** Kusine. === cerk@rocketmail.com - NA Forever! FK Fan Fic writing resources at: http://home.earthlink.net/~kusine/ Date: Sun, 3 May 1998 00:18:30 -0400 Reply-To: John Ewan Sender: Forever Knight TV show stories From: John Ewan Subject: WAR: MERC/RP Guess Who's Coming to Have You For Dinner Part 1/2 To: FKFIC-L@lists.psu.edu X-UIDL: faaaacd4e979b40b1462270d3eea1672 posted by Johnsie for the MercBard Guess Who s Coming to Have You for Dinner? Part 1/1 by Laurie Mercbard, John Ewan Everyone featured with permission Time: After midnight May 2nd The Raven Party coinciding with Merc: Who s Gonna Get Burned When the Tables are Turned? and NA: It s Nae Toga Party "Wot nuthin' tew see 'ere. Nawt a pawp tew tha' eye tew peep. We shuld go 'afer we see sumthin'." Libby said as she tried to head for the nearest exit. Mildred grabbed her arm. Come with me if you want to live, the Merc Computer Genius and defacto Second in Command ordered the weeping Ratpacker. She dragged her over to the Merc table, and sat her down, ordering her not to move, on penalty The Mercs had stayed to themselves most of the evening, carefully scanning the crowd for evidenceof Nunkies pops, and more importantly, Addicts with their greedy little paws wrapped around Nunkies pops. That would be the final proof that NA was responsible for the heinous disappearance of their Pain in the Butt leader. Mildred had kept the crew steadily circulating through the crowd. She had the Merclettes in tow, and had stationed each one at a club entrance, with instructions not to move on pain of loss of lifetime computer privileges. She was just making the rounds, checking on them, when Jennifer, Guild Spymistress, appeared by her side. They re here, she whispered. There s a load of them following LaCroix s every move. An tha' lil' ratsies all cried fer Libratsie." Libby muttered, shrinking further into the chair in which she had been firmly placed by the Guild leaders. Tracking them had been easy from that point, and the Mercs anger had grown as the Addicts merrily partied, pulled Nunkies pops out of their bags. Mildred had carefully watched and waited for the right opportunity. In other words, she wasn t going near any of them until LaCroix was long gone. Not all of those with her listened to those words. Libby looked around worredly as she left the table. She d spent most of the evening hiding from people, and she didn t think she was doing a very good job of it. She certainly couldn t shake the Mercs, that was for sure. One of them followed her around at all times, keeping a distance, but making sure she didn t escape from the doom that was bound to come her way for betraying the Grand High Pain. Even though it hadn t been her fault, she was sure to be in a heap of trouble, whenever they found miss high and mighty, that was a given. "Woe iz me," Libby muttered, as she wandered amongst the crowd at the Raven. "Oh, woe...whoa!" she uttered under her breath. A fellow turned away from the bar as the bartender set his drink down, took the money, then moved towards the cash register. Janette was strolling by, and had captured the patron's attention. Libster quickly got the glass and and stepped away, grabbing a napkin further down the bar. "Hey, where's my drink?" "You got it, there's the napkin." "I didn't *get* it!" "I put it..." "*I* don't care! I'll tell ya where..." The conversation faded behind her as she moved arount the place. "tsk," she thought as she sipped the drink, "<> The Mercs had kept to themselves for most of the evening, carefully scanning the crowd for evidence of Nunkies pops, and more importantly, Addicts with their greedy little paws wrapped around Nunkies pops. Which, as far as the Mercs were concerned, would be absolute proof that NA had been responsible for the heinous disappearance of their Pain in the Butt leader. Libby wandered past a table with some tourists, "Hon," the woman said, "I bet it *is* the President here tonight! Look at all those Secret Service guys, just looking around, never smiling. See! That woman just talked into her watch!" "Quiet, dear," the man in the loud print shirt replied, "I'm watching that woman with the ridges on her head." His wife quickly glanced in the direction he was gazing with such a smile, "Hon," she said, in a snipped tone, "I am surprised that *you* even noticed her forehead, what with her wearing *that* outfit!" Johnsie stood up from behind the couple, holding his little umbrella and his drink up very obviously, then moved on... Libster went to intercept him. Mildred had kept her crew, the Mercs steadily circulating through the crowd. She had the Merclettes in tow, and had stationed each one at a club entrance, had solved two birds with one stone, kept them out of trouble and at work, containing Libby. "Psst!", Libster hissed at Johnsie. "Wotchyahuptew?" "Nuthin'," he replied automatically, then smiled as Libby gave him an "oh, yeah." look. "ya share the profit," she said, with a glare. "Nah-unh," Johnsie replied, with a sneer. Their further scintallating raconteuring was stopped by the sound of coins jingling onto a table. They almost hurt their necks snapping around at the sound. "Nunkies..." they whispered together, and strolled towards their table. They moved towards the table, Johnsie slowing to a shuffle, checking where the purses where and how folks were sitting. he decided the woman counting the change was the one most likely to be distracted as she was the most sober and would understand the danger the pair of them were. Libby stood by the table nonchanlantly, even though her emotions were in turmoil, "allo." she said brightly. The group snarled at her and all their hands covered the coins in the middle of the table. Libby wheedled, tried to get some coins and her hand was slapped away. Then she pouted, sat down and Johnsie strolled over and joined them, resting his right hand on the edge of the table. The other was under the edge, just out of sight. His free hand quietly and gently fiddled with the purse closure. Libby made another move for the coins which got all their attention away from him so he opened the purse, grabbed a very convient nunkiespop and palmed it. The flurry of activity made them look back at him and ask him what he had, he raised his hands so that the evidence fell unnoticed into the sleeve of his heavy longrider coat and he could show them empty hands. Libby took the opportunity of them staring at Johnsie to cadge a few coins as profit to finish their scam. They played it out, being offended at their treatment, and wandered away from the table, meeting Mildred along the way. Mildred scowled, "What was that game all about? Johnsie dropped his arm, caught something and held it up for her to see, shielded by his hand from the view of others. "Eveedence. Wot ya needed, wot Oi cud get ya." Mildred smiled grimly, "Not bad, I thought you guys were just around for laughs." Johnsie smiled, "Wun duz wot wun duz best; calmin' the mark iz the first thing ya dew. Folks dunt fear wot they laugh hat, they proteks wot they thinks ya hafter." Mildred had spared a momentary thought to Laurie, wondering if the Addicts had turned her over to LaCroix. And if so, just what had the GHP endured? The General had left the club soon after midnight, and she was preparing to marshal her forces, when Jennifer returned to her side. The Spymistress was positively aglee with excitement, and as she reported her news, Mildred began to smirk. The Addicts days were numbered. The Mercs had no reason to hold back now. John Ewan, Sysop | Look for me online at MPG-Net Multi-Player Games Network | as Gimli jwe@mpgn.com http://www.mpgn.com | I Plead The Garlic Defense- a Prelude to Something by Maya The Raven Sometime around midnight Awhile after "Sneaking As An Art Form" -- After passing through the doors of the Raven, the four Ratpackers had split up. To find their respective adored vampires. To annoy various faction members, perhaps. Or to cause chaos, which was, after all, the idea of a War, right? Plot? *What* plot? Maya had, for reasons inexplicable to even her, several little packets of salt in her pocket that had somehow managed to avoid being depossessed in CERK's basement, and she was wandering around with the half-formed idea of finding an unguarded glass of blood to dump them in. Just to see the expression on the vampire's face. Providing, of course, that she could be far, far away by that time. She suspected that Ursula was doing something at the moment with a certain rat- the girl never traveled without at least two at a time on her person, and she had an annoying habit of dropping them on unsuspecting people's shoulders- but Maya was past worrying about it by now. Might be fun, actually. She made a mental note to find Ursula later. She snagged a passing FoD, grabbing a handful of crackers and scooping up a generous amount of Garlic Goo. Maya chewed thoughtfully for a minute; then she stuck her fingers in the dip, liberating a handful of garlicky pinkness, and stuffed it in her mouth with the rest of the crackers, ignoring the plaid- clad caterer's bewildered expression. Sucking the last crumbs off her fingers, the Ratpacker made her way through the dance floor, straightening her black top hat. Oblivious to the recoils of the other guests as the distinctive stench of garlic, and blissfully ignorant of the fact that all vampires in the room were unconsciously steering *very* clear of her, Maya bounded happily up to the DJ's booth. "Oi gots a ree-kwest," she shouted over the din of the music. The DJ promptly passed out. "Sum myuzik-player *yew* are," she snorted, ducking into the booth and shuffling through the CDs. "Huh. Lessee. La, la, one fish, two fish, red fish, blu- 'ere we are!" As the current song drew to an end, she popped open the CD player and started to toss the piece of hapless metal over her shoulder, before realizing that it was reflecting the light *very* nicely. After a moment's thought- or possibly trance- she stuffed the disc into her pocket, before inserting Switchblade Symphony's *Serpentine Gallery* into the stereo. "Now less 'ave sum real fun," she declared, as "Dollhouse" began to play over the speakers, and she danced back out onto the floor, once again somehow managing to procure a wide personal space for herself. *pushing pulling me down again* *it's getting bad i can't breathe* *i won't let them leave* *i need to get away* If Maya believed in omens, hearing these lyrics, she would have been more than slightly worried. Of course, if she was psychic, she would have been hightailing it out of the club for the nearest sewer. And if her grandmother had a long pink tail, she'd be a rat. Just then a hand landed on her shoulder. "Look, I need- Good God, *what* have you been eating?" Mildred demanded, as the full force of the Ratpacker's breath hit her. Maya blinked innocently. "Jes' this pink dippy stuff. 'Twas pret'y good, 'twas. Want sum?" she added generously. Mildred covered her nose, feeling more than slightly sick. "*No*. I do not. Look, I need to find all the Mercs and 'Packers here. Go wait over there, okay?" She nodded, subdued, and turned to go. "Oh, and Maya?" The Ratpacker turned back around. "Try not to breathe on anyone, would you?" *** Maya "say no way, we won't let them grow up that way." -sleater-kinney These Boots Were Made For Stomping 1/1 by Laurie Mercbard Everyone featured with permission Time: Near 2 a.m., May 2nd The Raven Party following: Merc: Who s Gonna Get Burned When the Tables are Turned? concurrent with the end of NA: Th' Drinks R On Yew The Mercs timed their arrival at the table perfectly, as the dancing Addicts, adjusting their finery, returned from a spin on the floor. Kristine, who had remained at the table rose as her friends approached, gesturing wildly, but when she noticed the approaching Mercs, she immediately fell silent. Turned rather green, in fact. Jennifer thought she rather resembled a frog. We need to talk to you. Outside. Now. Mildred addressed this to the group at large, most of whom, spotting their vistors, also took on a froglike hue, as they desperately scrambled to hide the Nunkies pops held within their hot sweaty thieving hands. The Mercs looked like they could commit murder and mayhem on the spot. The Ratpackers looked like they d rather be any place else. Libby looked like she d The Addicts all moved closer together. Except for Bons, who started edging away from the coming confrontation. Kristine grabbed the Cousinly Leader s arm, her mouth moving but no words coming out. Finally, the distressed woman grabbed Bons by the shoulders and spun her around to face the Raven door. Bons let out a high-pitched yelp and pointed at the approaching Poobah. The Addicts, Mercs, and Ratpackers turned around to see the source of her alarm and froze. Coming directly toward them, her eyes fixated on the two confronting factions, was the Grand High Poobah herself. Bons groaned. Death was definitely in the air tonight. ****** The atmosphere in the Raven seemed rather subdued as Laurie and Anna entered the party. The Poobah had managed to squeeze a few sentences out of Anna on the way over, enough to know that the Guild hadn t been very successful in locating her - not that it took a brain surgeon to figure that out. All it took was a few days being tortured at the Shrine. The Poobah took a deep breath. She had plenty of gleeful time ahead to kill Addicts. First she had to get her own house in order, most likely by sticking all of the current inhabitants of it in the dungeon for deriliction of duty. She quickly scanned the club floor, until she spotted the Mercs moving en masse toward ... toward .... toward ... she sternly told herself. <*This* is not the time or the place for it.> Much as she would have enjoyed a full scale Addict massacre, matters of this nature needed to be taken care of behind the scenes. The Guild could not be brawling in public, not even to defend their Grand Poobah s honor. As she made a beeline for the converging groups, Bons suddenly spun around, spotted her, and let out a pretty pathetic yelp. Addicts and Mercs turned. The Mercs looked relieved - Laurie thought. She was even more satisfied as she watched comprehension dawn on the faces of her tormenters/soon to be tormentees. She quickened her pace, moving steadily but surely, noting the gleam reflecting off her steel toed boots. All eyes in the area were upon her, as she came to a halt in front of the Mercs, and faced the Addicts squarely. She remained silent, coldly, chillingly, sizing each of them up. She lingered on Jules, noting every detail of the High Priestess garb, from the floor length purple sequined gold trimmed evening gown with itsy bisty shoulder straps to the purple and crystally dangly earrings. She gave the Addicts one final you will rue the day you were ever put on this earth evil Poobah eye, then turned smartly on her shiny steel toes, and headed for the Raven s door without a backward glance, with the Mercs and Ratpackers following silently behind her. If the Addicts thought war was hell, they hadn't seen anything yet. The Mercs had not yet begun to fight. WAR: NA: The Morning After (1/1) by Cousin Jules Time: 12 noon, Saturday, May 2 Where: The Shrine Jules cracked an eye and noticed the slit of light that filtered through the heavy velvet draperies. She'd fought wakefulness long enough, it seemed. Crawling out from under the red satin sheets, she donned her kimono-type robe and toddled over to her dressing table. she thought, noticing the blue circles beneath her eyes. Normally, she would have been - no pun intended - dead to the world at this time of day, but a week's worth of War posts, combined with the lingering effects of the G&T's she'd imbibed at the party - she'd forgotten how many - proved an annoying disruption. Moving from her dressing table to the very new mini-bar she'd had installed in one corner of her room, she filled her electric kettle with water and plugged it in, then pulled a mug out of one cabinet and deposited a Twinings tea bag inside of it. The water coming to a quick boil, Jules cut the electricity and filled the mug, then left the leaves to do their thing. The shower beckoned her to wash off the stale odour of alcohol that still clung to her hair and which, in spite of the Shrine's excellent central air system, managed to scent the room somewhat as well. Jules moved the draperies aside and opened her window for some fresh spring air to help clear things and immediately regretted it, her night-accustomed eyes being hit full force with the noonday sun. Disrobing in her bathroom, she turned the shower to a warmer than normal temperature for her, and let the water wash away the sleep, the alcohol and the temporary shock of sunlight. Her thoughts began to drift back to a particularly good dream she'd been having involving Lacroix and a fondue pot. Turning off the shower before she turned into a prune, she towled herself dry, wrapped a second towel about her hair, and a third, very fluffy one around her person. She carefully removed the tea bag from the mug - - and reached into the small fridge for the milk, pushing aside a few green bottles taking up residence to get to it. She savoured her first sip and was about to take another, when she noticed something pushed under her door. Walking over to it and bending down, she picked up an ivory envelope. In a familiar, elegant hand was the word "Jules" written on the front, and a bit of wax had been used to ensure it was securely sealed. Opening the envelope, she pulled out a sheet of matching writing paper and, in the same elegant script saw the words: "If you love something, let it go. If it doesn't return, hunt it down, and give it coffee." Jules took another serious sip of her tea and re-read the note or, rather, her orders. Clearly, there was work to be done. The Priestess jumped into a pair of jeans, a white blouse and heels, then snatched up the Jag's keys and set off on her own particular version of the 'hunt.' ********************* War: Merc: We're Off To See The PoohPain (1/1) by Shelia Turner, assistance from the MercBard: Laurie and Liz the Lucky. Place: The MercShrine Time: Immediately before the Merc post that will drop later about the MercMeeting We're Off To See The PoohPain (1/1) The MercPriestess stood up and stretched wearily before placing the object she held in her hand on the altar, standing the transformed candle on its 'feet'. Shelia smiled at the sight of the effigies, one pure and white, the other black as..well...night. 'Not exactly what the Poohbah wanted for the war, but...' The MercPriestess' self-satisfied smile faded at the thought of the GHP. Shelia grabbed the candles off the altar and looked around her suite, musing, "I wonder what time the meeting is? I guess I should check in..." The MercHouseMommie had graciously provided her with a spacious suite, all for a price of course and Shelia had unplugged the intercom and the phone before setting her wards. Effectively cutting herself off from the world around her for most of the war, as she busied herself to the task of creating the anatomically correct character candles. She had worked hard day and night, only pausing to eat sleep or take long baths, and now that she had actually finished something she could show the GHP, the realization hit her that the MercLeader might have other things on her mind besides candles. "Oh, sh**!," the MercPriestess murmured under her breath, "Why do I have the feeling the the next time I see the Poohbah, she's gonna be in a GrandPoohbah Snit?" Shelia ran out her rooms and smack into Liz. "What's the rush?" Shelia asked trying to hold on to the candles in her grip and completely ignoring the fact that she was running too. "The meeting starts in 15 minutes, the GHP's going to be on the warpath. After what the Addicts did to her..." Liz shuddered. The MercPriestess shuddered in sympathy. She knew Addicts. She knew the GHP. Whatever had happened between them, she knew already that the next chapter was not going to be pretty. "So, tell me," Shelia started as they walked to the meeting hall, "Just what did the Nunkies do the the Pain?" Liz shuddered again. "She was pretty tight lipped about it. The little she did say, you probably don't want to know." "Aw, come on." Well, she'd asked for it. Liz whispered into Shelia's ear. By the time she was done, the MercPriestess looked as bad as Liz had the one time she'd been forced to stay an extra night in the hospital after one of her chemo treatments because she wouldn't stop throwing up. kturner@sun-spot.com Title: Visions and Resolutions Time: Saturday, May 02, afternoon Place: the Shrine Written by Kusine ************************** Very slowly, the door to Kusine's wardrobe pushed open. In they snuck, come from the Ratpacker tunnels to her sleeping chamber. Whispering in high, squeaky tones, the two dark figures carefully climbed onto the bed with the terrified addict. They perched on the end of the bed, their large, round ears making huge shadows on the wall behind them. "They're coming to get you!" one said cheerfully, and giggled. "They're going to stomp you to bits!" the other one agreed, just as pleasantly. "It's all your fault," the first one snickered. "The mercs are coming for you," the second one crowed, laughing in its peircing voice. "No," Kusine whispered. "No, I didn't do anything!" "You helped; you took the Nunkies pops!" the voices squeakily hissed in unison. "And they'll take their vengeance." "Ok, I helped a little, but only because I'm addicted!" Kusine cried. "You'll pay," they choursed, "And that little Ratpacker, too!!" "NOOOOOOOOO!" Kusine screamed and opened her eyes. Looking at the end of her bed, she saw nothing. She quickly turned to the wardrobe: the padlock she had installed was still locked. Grabbing her hockey stick, she poked under the bed, but found nothing but her dustbunny cousins. It had been a dream. It had been a threat. It had been a prophecy. The mercs *would* be coming to wreak their revenge for the kidnapping of their leader. The scene last night at the Raven had proven that. But just beacuse she had a dream about two evil cartoon mice didn't mean that they'd be coming to get her in particular. Did it? "But I wasn't even directly involved!" Kusine wailed to the room. "The Poobah Formerly Known As Carol Channing doesn't even know my name! How could she go after me in particular? I'll be fine ... Really." The room said nothing. Its silence, however, *implied*: "Sure, you'll be fine, but what about the Ratpacker, Libby? Who knows what the Mercs would do to someone who helped, even unintentionally, with the kidnapping of their leader. But that doesn't matter to *you*. *You'll* be fine." Kusine groaned. "Great. Guilt. Just what I need." The addict got up and, pulling off her night shirt, yanked on a clean toga. "Any more guilt and I'll be hallucinating about Nunkies drinking tea in a checkered room, reciting 'Alice in Wonderland' to me ... Not that that's bad ..." The room's silence became impatient. "Oh, yeah," Kusine said guiltily. "Libby. But what can I do?! It's not like I can protect her! She'll be lucky to get a trial before they hang her!" Kusine paused in lacing up her sandals. "Hmmm ... a trial ... If she gets one, I can testify on her behalf!" The addict smiled happily and finished with her sandals. The room was satisfied. ******************************* Kusine. === cerk@rocketmail.com - NA Forever! FK Fan Fic writing resources at: http://home.earthlink.net/~kusine/ Support your local pub/cantina (1/3) By MacCousin Heather with A LOT of help from Addicts Sherry and Debbie, and Lora Conk and Brenda Bell Takes place before and during 'Chariots of Fire parts 1 and 2 Fiendish Glow and NPC's used with permission ****************************************** Debbie stared at the large pan of Tiramisu that she, Sherry and MacCousin Heather were sharing. The three were sitting in Heather's quarters listening to 'Lore', Clannad's latest CD. Heather was staring, mid-bite at her MacNunkies tapestry. "You know," Debbie began, "I think I'm in the mood for something different." "I know what you mean," said Sherry, in between bites. "I asked Cabon for Shepherd's pie last night and he looked at me like I had lobsters crawling out of my ears." "Mmmmm, Shepherd's Pie," murmured the MacCousin, who had usual been watching way too many episodes of 'The Simpsons'. "You know," she began. "There is a place in Toronto that serves great Celtic cuisine. I bet they even serve it at breakfast." "The Fiendish Glow? I thought they were just a cantina," said Sherry, lowering the pan. Heather continued munching. "I've seen their ads," said Debbie. "They are more than just a cantina. Just think of all the pub food." Sherry looked convinced, however Heather who spent most of her free time at home hanging around Irish pubs, was still scooping Tiramisu into her mouth. Besides that she felt a bit apprehensive about the pub. She had not set foot in the place since she, Nyx and Pen had bought the place. It had not been a pretty sight. Heather scooped up another spoonful of tiramisu, guiltily thinking of the cleaning that Brenda and Lora must have endured. She had not even sent the fanfic fairies to help in the cleaning activities. "Think of the possibility of seeing men in kilts, MacIntyre," Sherry added, knowing her fellow addict's true motives. The MacCousin threw down the pan decisively. She was always ready to look at bonny knees (even boney ones). She straightened her sash and grinned. "I'm ready, let's go!" ***************************** The happy threesome stood outside waiting for a cab as the other addicts ran off to their other planned activities. Most of the addicts were going to participate in the Chariot races. "We'll probably end up missing the chariots," mused Debbie, out loud as she tried to wave down a cab. She looked at Sherry who had wandered out wearing one of Heather's many sashes. "I don't really mind missing them," she added. "Do you?" "Nah, I sure don't want to stand around in the heat today," said Sherry, wiping her brow. It was unseasonably hot for Toronto in May. She looked for Heather over her shoulder and then started laughing. "What's so funny?" asked Heather. Sherry couldn't stop chortling and soon Debbie joined in. "Your sword, it's almost as tall as you are," Sherry finally was able to get out. Heather made a face. She had **borrowed** the sword from her boyfriend. The claymore made her a bit unsteady on her feet, but the scabbard kept her from becoming too unbalanced. Besides that, how could she show up at a pub without a claymore? Debbie and Sherry continued laughing at Heather. Cabs continued past them. Heather stared at her fellow addicts stonily. First she had to deal with the GHP and now this. "I don't get any respect," she mumbled, piteously. Sherry and Debbie finally realized they missed all the cabs. "Thanks a lot, MacHeather," grumbled Debbie. "You made us miss all the cabs." "It's not too far from here," stated Sherry, pushing the two other addicts forward. "Only a few blocks on Luminescent Lane and Cactus Court." *** (A few blocks away) Ronnie couldn't help chortling at the sight. He covered his mouth with his hand when saw them coming down the walk. He had never seen such odd outfits. Two ladies were dressed in what appeared to be togas, silver breastplates and sandals, as well as various sashes, pins and other Celtic jewelry. Debbie was in black jeans today after finding that her togas were still not back from the cleaners. However, she was decorated with a sash and jewelry as well. The taller dark-haired woman and the two reddish-haired shorter women jingled all the way up the street. Ronnie nudged Danny, who began chortling as well. The three addicts were absolutely unaware of any strange looks they received from the employees of the pub. "What are you two chortling about?" asked Lora. Lora was dressed in white jeans and a white tank top. A short pearl necklace and a stunning pair of pearl earrings completed the outfit. She picked up her claymore and she peeked her head out of the doorway and in the direction of Debbie, Sherry and Heather. "You two better stop laughing. For one thing, the one with the claymore on her back is MacCousin Heather. She's one of the owners of the Fiendish Glow." Ronnie and Danny straightened up. "Besides, that," added Brenda. "We are in need of entertainment. The karoake machine has been silent for, well hours. Even if all they will probably sing about is Nunkies. "So they're that Nunkies faction?" asked Danny. Brenda stopped, mid-breath. "Don't ever call them Nunkies," she said. "Oye," Ronnie said with a wicked grin. "The lassies tha' err so 'ot 'n' bothered o'er that vampire Lora so wan's to searrch." Lora gave Ronnie a stern look. Then she got a strange blissful smile and blushed slightly. She back into her little fantasy about searching LaCroix for weapons. Lora couldn't help wondering what it would be like to run her hands over him. Brenda poked Lora and she finally got back to reality. Heather smiled as she reached the doorstep. She had only briefly spoken to Brenda and Lora before the war. She hoped they would be able to recognize her. She doubted that the co-managers would remember her too fondly since she had left the Glowworms behind to clean and start up the business. Her smile became bigger at the doorstep. Debbie and Sherry gave each other strange looks. "I think she's more nervous than they are," pointed out Sherry in a hushed voice. "Is she an addict?" Debbie asked Sherry. "Look at all the tell-tale signs." "I have no idea," said Sherry. "Maybe she's thinking of someone else and we just always assume it's Nunkies that every woman fantasizes about. The threesome stepped up to Lora and Ronnie. Lora was able to finally concentrate on the matter at hand. Brenda sighed and shook her head, deciding to give Lora a few more minutes to clear her thoughts. "Come on in," she said, welcoming the addicts with a warm smile. "And you," she said to the MacCousin. "You should have been to visit sooner." Lora, Brenda and Heather all exchanged hugs. ************************* -- MacCousin Heather (heatherp@freewwweb.com) a.k.a. Deirdre CIP also at (maccousin@hotmail.com) Keeper of the MacNunkies Tapestry *NA*DT cofounder*UF*Celtic GlowWorm* http://www.geocities.com/TelevisionCity/Set/1291/index.html http://members.tripod.com/~celtic_glowworm/index.html Support Your Local Pub/Cantina (2/3) - An Nunkies is my Darling 'Danny Boy' was written by some Irishmen in the 16th century, lamenting the loss of his clan. Unfortunately I've forgotten his name. 'The Doddered Auld Carroll' was written a long time ago as well, in Aberdeen, Scotland, poking fun at the tradition of older Scottish men to wed young lasses. I've forgotten who originally wrote it too. 'An Charlie is my Darlin' is by Robert Burns, the Bard of Scotland. May he not roll in his grave when he sees what I've done to it. Everyone mentioned is used with permission ***************** Debbie sighed contentedly, watching the light sparkle through her shot glass. Sherry was humming peacefully over a glass of Harp while Heather poured herself another glass of heather cream, enjoying the soothing taste of the scotch and cream mixed together. Brenda and Lora joined them and the quintet sat in companionable silence. The employees of the pub tiptoed around the group once they heard they one of the owners was present. "Can aye get ye ladies anything else?" asked Deirdre. "Consuela says it may take 15 minutes or so to get your orders. We usually don' get 'any orders for shepherd's pie at breakfast time." "No problemo," said Debbie, with a smile, as her two fellow addicts grinned and shrugged at Deirdre, peacefully. She turned to Lora and Brenda. "Now what was that about our being the entertainment?" (five minutes later) Debbie, Heather and Sherry jumped onto the karoake stage. Sherry brought up a tambourine. "Ooooo, what to sing? What to sing?" grinned Sherry. "Anything but Broadway hits," said MacHeather, shivering at the thought of the GHP's singing once again. "What about 'Danny Boy'?" suggested Debbie. "it's one we all know". She entered in her selection and the karoake machine began. 'Oh Danny boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling >From glen to glen, and down the mountain side The summer's gone, and all the flowers are dying 'tis you, 'tis you must go and I must bide.' It wasn't a grand performance, but the threesome managed to garner some applause at the songs end. Sherry started looking through the songs once again. When Heather leaned over her shoulder and squealed. "Oooo, I love the 'Doddered Auld Carroll'," she said with a wicked gleam in her eye. "I haven't heard that one before," said Sherry, "What does that mean anyway and how does it go." "It's very easy," promised the MacCousin. "It's Aberdeenshire dialect for the doddery old man." She started the song this time and the pub employees ducked and shuddered when Heather began. "The Doddered Auld Carroll, he come over the lee, Ah ha, but I downa hae him. He come up the lee to court wi' me, Wi' his gray beard newly shaven." Within a few seconds Debbie and Sherry joined in. "...So my mother she tell me to gie him some meat. Ah ha, but I downa hae him I gie him some meat, but he nae teeth to eat With his gray beard newly shaven." The audience giggled with every verse and even Lora and Debbie joined along on the chorus until Liam O'Neal walked through the pub door again. Ronnie motioned to Lora and they met the inspector at the front door. *********** Liam O'Neal had been wandering around town for a proper breakfast. It was still quite early in the morning. He could only think of one place to go to. Liam came by way of the Metro and sighed as he passed by the sign for the Fiendish Glow. It was too early to be on the lookout for vampires. However, what if they were vampires there right now. He opened the front door as he heard the start of a very strange version of Robert Burns' poem, 'An' Charlie he's my Darling'. 'Twas on a Monday evening, Right early in the year, That Nunkies came to our town. Without his young chevalier. An' Nunkies he's my darling, My darling, my darling. Nunkies he's my darling. Not the young chevalier He set his addict on his knee, All in his Highland dress; For brawie well he ken'd the way, To please a bonny lass. An' Nunkies he's my darling, My darling, my darling. Nunkies he's my darling, Not the young chevalier. Liam shivered and noticed Ms. Conk and Ronnie coming toward him. Something about the song was utterly unnerving, and the women singing it were even stranger. He took off towards the exit sign, his MacIntosh, folded over his arm, flapped behind him. "Yes, I've definitely forgotten something," he murmured, as he walked outside. ********************************** -- MacCousin Heather (heatherp@freewwweb.com) a.k.a. Deirdre CIP also at (maccousin@hotmail.com) Keeper of the MacNunkies Tapestry *NA*DT cofounder*UF*Celtic GlowWorm* http://www.geocities.com/TelevisionCity/Set/1291/index.html http://members.tripod.com/~celtic_glowworm/index.html ********************************** Support Your Local Pub/Cantina (3/3) by MacCousin Heather all the addicts, glowworms and NPC's are used with permission *********** Sherry, Heather and Debbie stumbled off the stage as the food came forth from the steamy kitchen. Ronnie and Lora stood to one side discussing why the inspector had left so quickly. "Maybe he had sum sort of attack on hearin' the ladies sing," he pondered. Lora shrugged. He had a point. However, Heather, Sherry and Debbie seemed to enjoy themselves greatly. She wandered back over to their table where the addicts where ready to dig in. Debbie sighed contentedly over her portion of Irish Stew, while the staff waited for the verdict. Heather leaned and smiled as Deirdre placed her portion of corned beef and colcannon in front of her. Sherry received the shepherd=92s pie that she been waiting for. = Heather coughed and raised her glass as did Debbie and Sherry. "A Toast," began the MacCousin. "May your glass be ever full. May the roof over your head be always strong. And may you be in heaven half an hour before the devil knows you're dead." Miguel raised his own glass and nodded to the staff to join him in a toast in return. "May your enemies never meet a friend." "Hear, hear," said Debbie. There were many yumming noises from the addicts through the entire meal, until they had finished off the Bailey=92s Irish Cream Ice Cream. (an hour later) Ronnie whistled for a cab to take the addicts back to the shrine. The MacCousin appeared to have more trouble than usual carrying her claymore. After about ten more minutes of goodbyes, the Glowworms and addicts hugged each other. The addicts climbed into the cab, holding onto very full tummies. "Gude food," said Debbie. "Ditto," replied Sherry. Both addicts waited for Heather to say something, but the next thing out of the MacCousin=92s mouth was a snore. = -- MacCousin Heather (heatherp@freewwweb.com) a.k.a. Deirdre CIP also at (maccousin@hotmail.com) Keeper of the MacNunkies Tapestry *NA*DT cofounder*UF*Celtic GlowWorm* http://www.geocities.com/TelevisionCity/Set/1291/index.html http://members.tripod.com/~celtic_glowworm/index.html Operation: Cactus (1/1) By Bonnie Rutledge Starring: Cousin Cherri, Cousin Bean, Miranda, Lesley, Nish, 'Chele, Senara and Delilah Time: Saturday, May 2nd, Nick's Loft around midnight, after 'Adiamo a Circo'. The Cousins hovered outside the loft door. They were clothed simply in black and had no special paraphernalia. Cousin Cherri frowned at the alarm box. Everyone who'd ever watched 'Dark Knight' knew the first digits to Nick's alarm code. It was the last one that was the trouble. The Cousins had a 1 in 10 chance of picking the right number, and they were willing to take the chance. Delilah, of course, wasn't really aware of what was going on. All she knew was that her new friends were extremely excited over this adventure, and they seemed eager to have her join in. Delilah succumbed to the feeling of belonging. Senara pulled off her black cap, and Cousin Bean dropped a handful of paper inside. "Okay," Senara instructed, "one of us will draw a number. Who wants the honors?" "Me! Me!" Miranda declared. Nish and Cousin Bean stepped back, allowing her better access. Miranda dug in and drew out a number, which Senara took and presented to Cousin Cherri. Cherri's finger hovered over the keypad for a moment. "Okay, everyone...prepare to run if this is wrong!" Cherri pushed the last digit. No alarms sounded. Cherri grasped the door handle, and it opened effortlessly. "All right, Cousins! We have access!" They piled into the loft elevator, chatting happily among themselves. "So..." 'Chele suggested, "should we look out for cameras or anything?" "Nope." Cherri shook her head and whispered, "It doesn't matter if the Knighties know it was us, just that we don't get caught on the premises and glued into a cow suit." The Cousins shivered at the concept of being glued into cow suits. "Are these people friends of yours?" Delilah asked innocently over the Cousins' maniacal chuckles. "Is that why you're dropping in when they aren't home?" Lesley gave Delilah a wicked grin. "Why...I guess you could say we're taking care of their plants while they're out." "Oh. That's friendly," Delilah said as the elevator doors opened to the loft. She wandered inside, gazing curiously at the collection of paintings and the intricate fireplace mantelpiece. "This is quite a room." Cherri pointed toward the window. "Okay, let's grab it and get out of here." "Hey," Nish protested, "I can't believe we came all this way just because Bonnie likes the cactus. The Knighties will be gone at least another half hour - can't we putt some golf?" "Okay," Cherri relented, "but put everything back where you found it." "A cactus..." 'Chele sighed. "We risk our necks for a silly cactus." She wandered across the room toward Nick's motorcycle, then ran a finger down the seat. "We should take something with more style." "So take the motorcycle," Cousin Bean suggested. "And not follow the Cousinly Leaders' orders?" 'Chele's eyes widened. "No, I'm too afraid I'll end up in a tub of oatmeal. Blech." "So..." Bean nodded secretively toward Delilah, who was playing 'Heart and Soul' on the piano. "...get someone not under orders to do your dirty work for you." "That's an idea," 'Chele said thoughtfully, "but the kid is pretty naive. She thinks that we're here to housesit, for heaven's sake!" "Tell her it's for Bonnie," Bean countered. "Bons took her in - I bet Delilah will do it if she thinks she can repay her Samaritan." Both Cousins fell into the giggles at the thought of the Cousinly Leader being remotely sweet and upstanding. "Okay, I'll do it!" 'Chele whispered. "Hey! Delilah! Can you help us?" she called. "Sure! What can I do?" Delilah's expression was open and polite. "We just remembered that we were supposed to pick up this motorcycle for Bons, and we thought that you might like the honors of riding the bike back to the station, since you're the Cousins' special guest and all." "I don't know." Delilah shook her head uncertainly. "I don't think I can ride a motorcycle." "But it's for Bons," Bean reminded her. "Why don't you just sit on it and try the bike on for size? You might be a motor cross racer for all you know!" "If you think it's okay." Delilah swung a leg over the seat and let her hands rest on the bars. She adjusted her arms and legs tentatively, then broke out into a smile. "You know, I think I have been on one of these before!" "Then you can ride it back to the station," 'Chele said. "We'll help you roll it out." "Okay!" Cherri clapped her hands together. "That's enough putt-putt! Put the club back, Nish! Lesley! Grab the cactus! We're out of here!" The Cousins piled into the elevator, Delilah, Bean and 'Chele pushing Nick's motorcycle. It was a tight squeeze, but they made the ground floor in one trip, then they were out of there. ************************************************************************ Fin br1035@ix.netcom.com WAR: NA: Reality Cheque, Please, Waitress (1/1) by Laurie MercBard and Cousins Jules and Bons Time: About 5 p.m., Sunday, May 3 Where: The streets of TO and the Happy Souvlaki Deli ******************* Jules was exhausted. It was now 5 p.m., and there was still no sign of the NA Scribe. She'd combed the town, stopping at every coffee house she could think of (Bons didn't *do* instant). Finally, she pulled the Jag up to the curb near the last Buckstar's on her list, turned the engine off, and re-read the second note she'd found beneath the car's windscreen when she'd left the Shrine. "What a wonderful thing humanity is..." A light suddenly went on in Jules' tiny brain! she thought, and tore away from the curb. Speeding down Yonge, she picked up the cell phone and rang the Shrine. Miraculously, Patt picked up. There seemed to be some kind of hubbub in the background - what could, perhaps, best be described as 'shrieking.' "Finally!" Patt yelled at her. "Where are you, your Royal High Priestessness?" "I'm looking for Bons. Why? Something more important I need to know about?" "Only if you care about the *Shrine,*" Patt replied. "WHAT?!" "We've been attacked, a la the Dark Perks. You don't wanna know what they've done." "You're right," Jules replied tersely. "I don't! Tell the fanfic fairies to fix it! We have better fish to fry! We need to find Bonnie. She's run from Lacroix and CERK, and Lacroix isn't going to stand for it. He said, and I quote: 'I don't want a new Bons, I like *that* one!' Remember how annoyed he was in 'Father's Day'?" "Yeah," Patt replied. "Well, multiply it by 10 and you kind of get the drift," Jules explained. "He doesn't say as much in his notes, but I can tell there's going to be hell to pay if we don't find her and give some kind of adequate explanation." "Jules, look: I'm sure I'm the last person Lacroix wants on this particular mission..." "No, you look, Patt. Maybe it's the 'mission' that's going to put you back into his good graces. Ever thought of that? Hmmmmm?" There was a noticeable silence on the other end of the phone line. "Besides which, we owe it to Bons. She's out there somewhere in the less-than-perfect world of fanfic, and she's not feeling exactly peachy right now. She could even be wearing sensible shoes! Can't you do stick your neck out and help for her sake?" Another moment of silence passed before Patt asked, "Where do you want me to meet you?" Jules pulled the car up outside the restaurant and caught a whiff of something wonderful. "Just tell the cabby to bring you to the Happy Souvlaki." ************************************************************************ Meanwhile, in another part of Toronto... Laurie woke up in Merc Central's guest quarters to an urgent message on her laptop. Jules and Patt had been trying to reach her for hours and were asking for a temporary truce. There was trouble on the horizon, and it had nothing to do with fanfic fairies or burnt down Shrines. She'd finally had a good night's sleep, but was still feeling tired. Three days of being kidnapped, drooled, snotted, barfed, and pooped, not to mention Michael Bolton-ed, tended to take a lot out of a Grand High Poobah, let alone a masochistic Grand High Poobah who had helped to write her own torture. "What now?" she mumbled, as she watched the messages pour into her inbox. She became increasingly upset as she read them. She quickly dressed and headed out the door of Merc Central. The faction leader caught up with Jules and Patt at the Happy Souvlaki. They were sitting at a table in a corner, engrossed in deep conversation with Bons. Laurie's eyes widened at the view. Bons (and the angels wept to see it) was wearing Birkenstocks and her scrubs. What's worse, the Scribe was drinking grapefruit juice. At either side of Bonnie, there was a man and a woman of non-descript features, each eating a souvlaki and having a Diet Coke. Their T-Shirts read: Nameless Victim #1 and Nameless Victim #2. Laurie took a seat beside Nameless Victim #2, taking time to steal one of their french fries. Laur grew increasingly agitated as she listened to her friends' talk. She finally broke into the conversation, "But ... but ... but, Bons, you can't leave!" she cried. "Who's going to help me think up wicked things to do in my revenge on the Shrine?" Jules and Patt stared at their friend. "Bons? What have you been doing?" Jules cried. "You mean, you've been *helping* the Mercs?" This from Patt. Bons looked at her friends as though they were blooming idiots. "Of course, I have. So have you two. It's called 'collaboration.'" "Oh, right," said the sleep-deprived Jules. "Sometimes we forget." Bons looked at her three friends, just a few of the wonderful (read 'insane') people she'd met in FK fandom. "Look, this is what I want. I'll still be around, helping you behind the scenes. It's my decision, after all. It's been brought to my attention that I am too evil for the likes of war. I think the best thing for me to do is to return to the clinic and care for the dogs and cats. You know I've been nursing that litter of parvo puppies, all the while writing for this war. I slept fifteen hours last night, catching up for lost time. I guess my RL means more to me than a War after all." "That's right - those puppies made you run late on writing some of the torture," Laurie said. "How are they doing?" Bons smiled, taking a sip of her grapefruit juice. "All four responded well to treatment. It looks like they'll live." She twisted her lips knowingly. "Of course they're Chows. Chances are, six months from now they'll be in the clinic wanting to bite my face off when I do a heartworm check." Bonnie shrugged. "Oh, well...such is the nature of life." Jules, Patt, and Laurie looked at each other. What could they say? Much as they disliked her decision, it was Bonnie's choice. Laurie frowned. She still didn't like it at all, and swiped another fry from Nameless Victim #2, because she could. "Can we still use you in our stories?" Jules finally asked. "Of course," answered Bons. "I trust you." "And you'll still help me write the attack on the Shrine?" Laurie chimed in. "Of course, Laur," Bons answered her friend. "Writing together, the teamwork, is most of the fun of it anyway." "Gee, thanks, Bons," Jules said facetiously, mentally picturing her Shrine reduced to rubble. The group gave Bons big hugs, kisses, and pieces of chocolate, and then sent her off to get some more rest. She'd had a very hard few days. They then made their goodbyes, and headed back to their assorted offices, Shrines, and potted plants. They had places to go. People to see. Stories to write. And Laurie had some Addicts to kill. The Nameless Victims ordered another round of souvlaki, wondering when the management was going to figure out that they were just words on paper and would have to stiff on the check. *********************** We don't know about anyone else, but we're sure having fun. :))) WAR: MERC/RP: "OF RATS AND MERCS" 1/2 Written by Mildred Cady, Laurie MercBard, Wooby, John Ewan, Brianna Location: Merc Central, ol' Merc Central Time: Sunday late afternoon May 3rd Computer Genius. Guild Second in Command by Default. Now, she was expected to be Meeting Mistress too? Mildred was not a happy camper. Not that it mattered. Events seemed to have spun out of control in the past few days, leaving her to pick up the pieces. Now, she was stuck rounding up a bunch of irritable Mercs and terrified Ratpackers for the Guild mandatory meeting scheduled later today. It was like pulling teeth without novacaine, (and no payment to boot) especially since each and everyone of them knew what awaited. A wicked tongue lashing from Laurie, for starters. The GHP had been supernaturally calm (what *did* those guys do to her, Mildred wondered.) during the entire journey back last night from the Raven. She had listened to Mildred's report with barely a reaction, although she had seemed startled when she'd been told that the Vaqs had found her at CERK, rather than the Shrine. She hadn't even blinked upon hearing that Berg had had to leave on an emergency right before her disappearance. Somehow, Mildred doubted that the GHP would accept the lack of a Merc Daddy General as a valid excuse for why the Guild hadn't been able to find her for three whole days. As she entered the meeting room, she could tell by the long faces that she was not alone in her concern. Clusters of Mercs and Ratpackers stood around, each engaged in the same debate - "How pissed off is Laurie?" and "How long will she let us live?" Mildred didn't have that particular worry, not just yet. The Guild and RP were safe, at least until the Mercs had had their revenge. Perhaps if the revenge went smoothly, the GHP would be slightly more forgiving toward her followers. She may kill us immediately instead of tormenting us for as long as our poor abused bodies can hang on. * * * There was a tension in the air that spelt trouble. (If you used a spellchecker, that is.) This being Merc Central, there was always trouble in the air. The gathered Mercs and Ratpackers barely noticed. Well, the gathered Mercs barely noticed. The Ratpackers did; they were well attuned to those aromas that could potentially lead to Ratpacker pie. Shelia, Liz and Wooby stood in a tight group glaring at the Ratpack across the room. Their usual irritating chattering was very subdued. "Are you sure you don't need your shrine consecrated?" Wooby asked, gripping her Bat'telh and twisting her hands in a suggestive manner. Shelia unclenched her jaw long enough to murmer loudly, "It wouldn't take much to convince me to go ahead." The Ratpack caught the intent, if not the words. Their nervous shuffling increased. ""Why mess up a perfectly good shrine?", Liz asked. Her hands were itching at the though of one, just one, scruffy little neck to wring. "" I know a perfectly good floor that is easier to clean." "How mad do you think the GHP is? She sure didn't say much when she got back here last night." "Well, if we kill a few Ratpackers, she might forgive us," Liz replied. "Wanna new rug?" Luck has always favoured the foolish and never more than at the moment. Just as the three Mercs moved away from it, the door crashed open, and Mildred walked in. By her expression, it was fortunate the door had survived. The three Mercs weren't quite sure just who else would. Go get Libby," she said shortly to the trio. "And get Allexxis and Sammy up here too." "Nothing would suit me more," Liz replied and moved off. "Except perhaps a new floor covering," Wooby added, giving Johnsie a pointed glare; Johnsie swallowed nervously and tried to inch backwards. As he was plastered against the wall as if glued there, this didn't really help. "Or a wall decoration," added Shelia, thinking of the blank space above the stereo. With their departure, The Ratpack relaxed slightly, and Johnsie was just about to sigh in relief at this reprieve, when he caught Mildred's eye. He decided to hold the sigh. * * * Libby, Allexxis and Sammy had apparently not appreciated the gleaming new dungeon that went along with the brand new HQ. Allexxis and Sammy in particular had not appreciated being stuck with a sobbing Ratpacker for more than 24 hours. During their time together, they had managed to stop Libby's crying long enough to flush out the details on what had been happening at HQ while the duo had been off working for Dr. Fred. The two Mercs were slightly worried; their minor infraction of moving into the GHP's office during her disappearance and redecorating it had somehow likely become linked in said Poobah's mind with Libby's heinous deeds. As Shelia opened the heavy, solid stainless steel door to a cell, the threesome inside tried to make themselves invisible. Not having much training in magic, they failed miserably. Libby whimpered. She knew the High Priestess was not a vampire, but judging by the red in her eyes at the moment, you could have fooled her. Sheila raised an arm, and flicked her hand towards the door. "You lot! Out and line up, now!" Libby tried to huddle closer to Sammy and Allexxis, who were having none of it. They gave her a "We don't know you, you're going to die and we want to live," glare and stood up. "I said NOW!!!" Libby still didn't move. Liz marched in, grabbed her by the scruff of the neck and dragged her out. They were almost out the door, when Allexxis and Sammy stopped in their tracks, and Libby let out a shriek. Blocking their path was a stainless steel batelh, held by a Klingon who desperately looked like she wanted to use it. Wooby and Shelia each grabbed an arm of the two errant Mercs, and followed Liz, Libby still in her grip, up the stairs, to face the GHP. * * Liz dragged Libby to the bottom of the dais and plopped her down next to Mildred's computer console. As soon as Libby appeared, the whispers started, "What's going to happen to her?" At Mildred's instructions, Allexxis and Sammy were directed to have a seat in the front row. "Thanks, we'd rather not," said Sammy. "Yeah, we'll just be going now," Allexiss added, and tried to head for the door. "Sit - down - now," Mildred directed them through clenched teeth. These two were not high on her list at the moment. She knew Laurie would blame her for them taking over her office. The fact she'd been rather busy trying to find the GHP wouldn't matter. Lots of things happened when you weren't paying attention, mostly things that sent you up the creek without a paddle. She was doing a final computer check when she noticed a hush come over the crowd. "Uh, oh, time to pay the piper," she muttered, glancing up as she heard the click clack of steel toed boots, and the GHP entered the room, heading for the dais. * * There was utter silence as Laurie entered and stood in front of her troops. She still had the strange supernatural calm she'd been exhibiting ever since her return, which worried the Mercs and terrified the Ratpackers. A ballistic Laurie they could deal with; that was standard operating procedure. An entire chapter of the Merc Manual was devoted to dealing with ballistic GHPs. This was something else. *This* was unnerving. Laurie's announcement didn't take long. "Nunkies Anonymous has made a fool of me ..." she paused and gave the crowd a cold glance, "to say nothing of the rest of you." Mercs shifted nervously in their seats, waiting for the other steel toed boot to drop. "We are going to decimate them. We attack the Shrine tomorrow night. Berg is gone. I'm putting Mildred in charge. Get on it. I want a full planning report on my desk by tomorrow morning." She turned to go. Several Mercs emitted sighs of relief, which were quickly silenced. The GHP gave her Guild a "no, this does not mean you're off the hook, first things first" glare. "What about the Cousins? The Vaqs found you at CERK. Are we going after them, too?" Erin asked. Laurie, almost out the door, turned back. CERK burned to the ground was a delightful prospect. "No," she said shortly. "Leave the Couins alone. Whatever happened at CERK is between me and LaCroix, and me and LaCroix alone. No retaliation against the Cousins. Is that understood?" She whispered one final order to Mildred. There was some muttering among the Mercs, but they nodded at their leader. No one was about to disobey Laurie about anything right now. And if she wanted to go after LC, well, that was her funeral. A relieved squeak among the general murmuring caused Laurie to whirl on the assembled RatPackers. Suddenly her eyes glowed an even brighter shade. Aahhh; there they were! The four useless varmits who had allowed all this to happen. "You four! Front and Center!" she snapped. The summoned quartet tried to vanish into the woodwork, but were shoved forward by their unsympathetic fellow Ratsies. Face to face with the Grand High Pain ... er, Poohah, they cowered under her glare of righteous indignation. "Give me one reason I should let you live," the Poobah demanded, casting a significant glace at Wooby, who hoisted her bat'talh. The hapless former bodyguards looked at each other with helpless pleading in their eyes. How the H*LL were they going to get out of this? They all had they ominous feeling that they would be the test subjects for a new version of Ratsie stew tonight. "Well?" Laurie asked when no one replied. After a few more seconds of silence, one of the spoke. It was the redhead ... who was that again? Oh, Brianna. Laurie sighed as she remembered the errant RatPackers's name. For someone who never had much to say, this newbie screw-up sure talked a lot. "Not our fault, it weren't. We kinda got dishtracked-like, then we tho' yew'd trucked on wit'out us." Laurie stood silent, her hands on hips, glaring down at the RatPacker. "We're gonna try an' make it all-better. I'm finishin' a mission now tha' will prove me loyal-royal ties tew the Guild. I got me sum info an' I'm gonna give it to me client - soon az she jammy-jamys wit' me. Should be tomorrow, it should. Gettin' the job right oughta show yew I ain't never meant no boo-boos. There's a right tidy profit tew be made too!" "And just who *is* this client of yours?" Laurie queried. Brianna's reply was unintelligible. "What?!?", Laurie demanded again. "It's Patt, she's one of them Munkies droogs," Brianna barely whispered. Laurie's face seized up in a horrid rictus reminiscent of a comic book villian, and she made several rather extraordinary noises, mostly deep down in her throat. As her hands raised towards Brianna's throat, the MercNinja's reflexes combined with the her RatPacker luck and the titanium alloy pointer was in easy reach. She deftly placed it into the GHP's grasp and Laurie promptly bent it past 'in-twos' and towards 'in-fours'. Johnsie, having no sense of self-preservation whatsoever, said, "Oi fink we still gots a receipt on that thing, and kin get hit replaced." Laurie's gaze snapped up at Johnsie, and she was able to take a deep breath before she continued talking to the RatPacker who was afraid of rats. "Very well," Laurie said, finally simmering down. "You complete this mission to my satisfaction and I *might* not bar you from the Guild. "As for the rest of you", Laurie turned to the other panic-stricken faces, "you are all on probation and your every move will be watched *very* carefully. I'll decide what, if any, punishment there will be ... _later_." "Oh, one last thing," the GHP paused at the door. "Sammy, Allexxis, if my suite is not returned to its proper state by the morning ... I'll leave you tied to the altar at the Shrine as a present for the Addicts." With this dramatic proclamation, she exited the room, her steel toes echoing down the corridor. * * * To be concluded in WAR: MERC/RP: "OF RATS AND MERCS" 2/2 WAR: MERC/RP: "OF RATS AND MERCS" 2/2 Written by Mildred Cady, Laurie MercBard, Wooby, John Ewan, Brianna Location: Merc Central, ol' Merc Central Time: Sunday late afternoon May 3rd The room was silent for all of five seconds, before Mercs and Ratpackers alike were jumping out of their chairs with a string of incredibly evil ideas for getting the Addicts and appeasing their angry Poobah. Laurie was a pain as it was when she was in a good mood; in a bad mood, she was XXXX. Especially because she tended to relieve her anger by singing at the top of her lungs for long period of times. *And* she had also banned earplugs in Merc Central. A few fast and furious hours later, the group actually had a plan. Mildred passed out assignments. "Okay, here are the teams. I want you all to break up and start working on the details. We'll meet back here in six hours. Any objections? I didn't think so." The crowd began to disperse. Littlest Ratpacker Anna whispered, "But, whaz gonna 'appen ta Libby?" The crowd undispersed. Everyone looked at Libby. Libby tried to run away. Then she tried to shrink into the wall. Then she started to cry again. In sympathy, so did all the other Ratpackers. The newly appointed second in command stared at the sniffling Ratpackers. "Libby's going on trial for treason on Wednesday. None of this would have happened if not for her addiction to cheese whiz. Until then," she pointed sternly at Johnsie. "... she's your responsibility. She screws up again, *all* your heads will roll." That sent the Ratpackers into total hysterics. Johnsie was horrified and cried out, "Oi'm *responpibble*?!? Wer DOOMED!" The RatPack deserted the sinking morale and scurried from the room. Sighing, Mildred tuned them out. She had work to do. A few phone calls later, and matters were arranged. She'd tracked down an old professor who owed her a favor, and arranged for him to fly in with his exhibit by morning. She looked over the flyer she'd just designed. It read: "The Artifacts and Villas of Pompey. A Lecture given by world-renowned Professor Gregory Lee. Monday Night, 10 pm. Toronto University Lecture Center." This was one package she wouldn't mind delivering personally, in disguise. **************************************************************************** The RatPack was in a disheartened mood when they arrived at ol' Merc Central, they moved quickly through the hall o' noiz and settled down in the living room. Johnsie stood before them, the universal remote control in his hand, so that everyone would have to listen to what he had to say. "Sum iz born great, sum 'as greatness thrust hupon them and sum, loik meself, havoids greatness has much has possible. Well, Oi'm feelin' thrusted 'bout now. Oi bin given horders to be re... respo-on-on... responsssible!" Johnsie took a deep breath, "Well, Oi kin dew that. Oi can't say the word, but I kin dew hit. Wot Oi can't dew, and won't dew iz _horganize_!" He stuck his tongue out at that, as if his mouth tasted foul, now. Libby said, "But, Johnsie, sumboddy's gotta organize..." Suddenly he pointed at Libby! Everyone jumped a bit, then settled back down as Johnsie went on, "Exactomundo! And the fact that yew can dew organizin' iz why yew thought that thought! Hits wot yer good hat!" Libby smiled and nodded. "an thats why Oi'm givin' ya yer Second hin uncommand back," Libby looked happy and scared and everyone else look more scared than happy. "But, ya gots ta NOT TELL ANYWUN! Hokay? No salutes, no titles, nuthin'." everyone nodded, which meant someone would mess up, but that was the RatPack Way. "Now, wot Oi'm good hat is bein' yer leader,..." Several of the RPers looked at each other and shrugged, frowned, looked around some more; Johnsie finally leaned over to Libby who immediately smiled, "Oh! Oh, yeah, Leader, leader's stuff; yep that's hit!" and the rest all smiled and nodded. "Now, wot's hit mean ta be a RatPacker?" Johnsie slumped his shoulders, leaned his head forward and placed the back of his hand agains his forehead, looking the very image of agony, "Dew we *angst* loik the Knighties?" he asked, there was a resounding No! Johnsie then stood straight with arms akimbo, the very model of a model, "Dew we 'ave the fashion sense o' the Ravens and the Ravenettes?" Muffled yeses, noes, is they chocolot covered? no silly thems raisens oh, we gots hany? Johnsie whistled, loudly and all got quiet again. "Are we loik hany other faction we know hof?" this was met by resounding Noes. "We iz da mongrels o' the Wars! We are the most mismatched bunch, even more so than the Die-'ards!" Everyone smiled at being a unique group, "an dew yew know why we R sew successful?" Everyone frowned in confusion, "Because we know sumthin' that *they* dunt know!" Everyone leaned forward expectantly.... Libby finally asked, "Wot's that, Johnsie?" "Iffen hit kin be himagined, hit can be dun!" Johnsie said, proudly. Libby nodded, with a smile, "Oh, yeah. Oi 'eard that sumplace." "Now, we are gonna put that ta work fer hus, roight 'ere, roight now." a bunch of RatPack eyes grew wide. Johnsie reached under his longrider coat and drew out a really cool looking sword. There were many Oooh and Aahs and can I 'ave that?s . "'ow'd yew dew that?" Poe asked. Johnsie said, "They 'ad a Scottish dood 'ere honcet in a pre- vee-us War, I snuck a looksee on 'ow they did hit. Pretty heasy once ya know 'ow." Johnsie stood in far end of the room, and held the sword up in front of his face. "Has the greatest swordsman hever seen did Oi call hupon the spirits ta guide this blade to that which we most need now, sumthin' cooler than cool, sumthin' better than tha bestest they hever wuz..." and he swept the sword out away from himself, "Lead hon, MacDuff!" and there were many Eeps and ducking RatPackers, but no one got injured. Johnsie swept the blade, and then slowed his movement. He started in a certain direction, then it seemed to shiver in another. Slowly he turned, step by step, inch by inch he moved towards the back wall... he moved to a busted up part of the back wall and the sword pointed behind it! Some of the Pack came forward and pulled the pice of wall back and they saw an opening behind the wall! the sword moved forward yet again, into the opening, through a door way and into the darkness beyond... The ratPack all crammed into the tiny space behind Johnsie, not wanting to miss out on this momentous occassion. "Theys a glowin' thingee in there, Johnsie! roight in front o' ya!" Maya cried! "Hit iz da culminashun o' R faith!" Johnsie declared. "Oi found a lightswitch, " Brianna called out. *CLICK* "Hit's a _bathroom_." "Oi fink that button flushes the toilet." "Oh, Johnsie!" Johnsie stood, before the commode, the point of his blade aimed at the glowing flush button. "Sew hit goes, hall R 'opes, hall R dreams... is flushed haway by houtragus forchoon." and he places the point of the blade against the button and leans on it wearily. The ground began to shake, the walls rumbled and began to rip apart! "Hit's an HEARTHQUAKE! WE'RE HALL GONNA DIE!" and many other things were yelled. The roof suddenly rose above them and slid away. The tiny bathroom moved off to the side, Johnsie jumped off it, trying to reach the portion still occupied by the RatPack, but MISSED! Down into the dark abyss he fell! and stopped about a foot deep. As did the sounds, and movement. Johnsie saw the eyes of the Pack open wide, looking past him; he turned around and saw that behind that wall, that room, was a chamber with a tunnel with amber lights along the bottom edge. There, before them, in this tunnel, ramping slowly upwards was one of the best, if not the bestest, multiton amalgamation of steel and alloys that ever moved on four puncture proof wheels. It glittered in pearl-charcoal grey with tinted windows and the license plate read [MERC 1] In unison, the RatPack dropped to their knees and in one voice they said, "Oooo, shiney pretty!" ************************************************************************** *Another Curbside Spectacle* Brought to you by the Bunny Brigade Jesse, Kusine, and Glennis One Night only, this Sunday! right after "'M' is for Mayhem, Missing, & Madness" Outside of CERK! (Written by Kusine with major help and beta-ing by Jesse and Glennis who are, of course, silly enough to let me do with them what I will. Mwahahahaha!) **************************** Jesse looked at her companions: dark pink togas and bunny heads strapped to their noggins. They looked back. Then they all burst into laughter. Several minutes later, after five people had stopped to ask them if they needed help, they calmed down enough to flop down on the curb. "You know," Glennis said, pulling off her new "hat", "I think this is where we were right after the Cousins meeting and reception. Right here on this curb." "What?" Kusine asked. "I said: I think this is where we were right after the Cousins meeting and reception," she repeated. "Take out the earplugs, Kusine." Kusine grinned sheepishly (baaaaa!) and pulled out her earplugs. The three of them had been in the middle of buffing the front room of the Shrine when they had been kidnapped, and they had all had in earplugs. That was lucky, since part of Laura's revenge had been an attempt to make frog peeping into an Anti-Nunklear Device. "Yep," Jesse agreed, also removing her headgear, "This seems to be our very own Let's-Make-A-Spectacle-Of-Ourselves spot." "Stay still," Kusine instructed, trying to look at her reflection in Glennis' breatplate. "You know, I think I like this look. Well, not the pink, but the bunny head is kinda' nifty." "You can't leave it on," Jesse said, shaking her head emphatically. "We're right outside of CERK!" "What if Nunkies sees you?" Glennis added. Moving incredibly fast, Kusine snatched the new chapeau from her head. "I can keep it, though, right?" she asked. Jesse and Glennis exchanged a look that said: "Why us? What exactly did we do to end up with her? Were we just in the chat room when she volunteered to write? Or was it more abstract than that? Did we lose some cosmic lottery? Did we not advance far enough in a previous life? Did we kick puppies? Did we sell our souls? Did we spurn Nunkies?" It was a very eloquent look. They nodded. "Kewl," Kusine said. "So ... How're we going to get back to the Shrine?" "We could hitchhike," Jesse said hopefully. "That's not very safe," Glennis admonished. "It *is* nighttime in a big city. I know it's Canada and all, but it's still not wise." "We could take a taxi," Kusine suggested. "Does anybody have any money?" With a grin, Glennis stuck her hand down the front of her toga and began to rummage around. After a moment of shocked silence, Jesse managed to speak. "What in the name of Nunkies are you *doing*, Glennis?!" "Getting money out of my bra!" she retorted. "What the heck did you think?!" Jesse had the decency to look embarrassed. Kusine, however, had no decency and was merely inquisitive. "Do you always carry money in there?" she asked seriously. "Out of habit or something?" "Yeah," Glennis replied, pulling out a rumpled twenty dollar note (Canadian, of course). "Once, a long time ago I was stuck somewhere because I didn't have any money..." The Californian addict trailed off and stared into space. Her mouth moved, but no sound came out. After a moment, Jesse sighed and poked her in the ribs. "OW! What'd you do that for?" Glennis demanded indignantly. "You were having a flashback," the teenager explained, "And it wasn't plot-related." Glennis apologized and the three stood to hail a cab. It took a while to find a taxi-driver who was willing to ferry around three women wearing pink togas and carrying body-less bunny heads, but, eventually, they did. They even stopped for take-away on the way back, since they hadn't eaten during their enforced labor. Kusine had wanted to drink the V-8 the Dark Perks had thoughtfully provided, but she didn't mention that to her friends. They wouldn't have understood, so she had played along with the screaming and "eww"-ing. As a result, she was just as hungry as they were. ******************************************* Kusine. === cerk@rocketmail.com - NA Forever! FK Fan Fic writing resources at: http://home.earthlink.net/~kusine/ "Heart and Flowers--Not" By Patt Elmore When: Late Sunday night with Flashback to early Saturday evening Where: Patt's sleep chamber at the NA Shrine Flashback in Tracy's apartment with permission of the Dark Perks *********************************** Patt was very tired. It had been a long day and all she wanted was to slip out of her shoes, take a warm shower and lapse into that sweet unconsciousness known as sleep. So much for wishes. The Third Cousin slipped into her Shrine sleeping chamber, not even bothering with the light switch. She knew the room well enough, and the muted darkness was more soothing on her jagged senses than the raw 100-watt would have been. So, not surprisingly, she plowed right into him. The figure was tall, cool to the touch, definitely male and appeared to have style. "Why are you walking around in the darkness?" Spark inquired, grasping Patt's upper arms and lifting her to her toe tips. Even in the darkness she could discern his wicked smile. "Thinking of coming to our side?" "Yea, sure," Patt replied sarcastically. "Like I'm anything more than meatloaf to you. I know that vampirism is not in my future. Snack item, yes, being brought across, no." Patt flexed, and Spark loosed his hold on her, sensing something different in her attitude this evening. He decided that he would tolerate her *bad manners* for the moment. He had other need of her. "I tired of waiting for you," Spark informed the mature addict as she walked over to her bed and collapsed on its edge. "I paid a visit to your e-mail system. Interesting information, but less than sufficient." "So sorry." Patt's vocal tone indicated that she couldn't have cared less. "Welcome to reality. We all have our own problems, you know." "Be quiet and listen," Spark said harshly. Patt did not respond, so he continued. "With the data I obtained from your merc source, I took my leave to visit Ms. Vetter last night." "I'll just bet she was thrilled," Patt commented, but clamped her lips when she noticed Spark's eyes glow golden in the darkness. "She was . . . intrigued." Spark began pacing, his movements fluid. "The setting was right. White roses. Hot coffee. Muted lighting. The music was perhaps not perfect, but more mood worthy than her biography indicated appropriate. I chose Bonnie Raitt rather than those Nine Inch Nails." Spark flinched. "What happened?" Patt noted his pause, his eyes darken and glaze. ************************** Flashback--Tracy's apartment, early Saturday evening. He stood in the shadows, watching her entrance. She did not turn on the light, but walked to the curtains and drew them open, allowing the night's own glimmer to stream into her abode. Tall, perfectly proportioned, she stood there--his goddess, his love. Then she turned, eyes narrowing as he stepped from the shadows. She did not recognize him, mistaking him for another. "Vachon?" Tracy said, her voice irritated. "I wish you'd get a place with your own shower." "I am not Vachon," Spark said, coming fully into her sight. "I am your destiny." "Well, Lukey me," Tracy replied, taking a step back. She reached for her purse, intending to retrieve her weapon, but, with vampiric speed, he was on her, pinning her into submission. "None of that, my love," Spark whispered into his chosen's ear. "It wouldn't kill me and would just leave ugly blood stains on your carpet." "Dear Aunt Matilda," Tracy swore. "How many of you *are* there? Every time I turn around a new vampire pops up in my life." "I will be the last to share your mortal bleakness, my dear," Spark whispered into Tracy's ear, his breath icy on her neck. "I have come to offer you eternity." "Holster it, Romeo," Tracy moved to shove Spark away. "I've had better offers. If I want to enter Vampy wonderland, I'll chose someone I know a lot better than you." "Tsk, tsk, sweet one. All I ask is that you allow us to become better acquainted then." Spark released Tracy and held a box of chocolates up to her. "For you. A gesture of my intentions." Tracy accepted the Godiva box and examined the contents. The guy did have style. "And," Spark produced another parcel, wrapped in dark pink paper and tied with ribbon a slightly deeper color, "I believe you'll find this to your liking." He pulled the ribbon and the paper fell open, revealing a silky white peignoir in a size six. "You've don't your research, Spark, that I'll have to admit," Tracy said. "Under other circumstances, I might allow this wooing to continue for awhile, see where it went. But, I'm a good cop, working a case right now which could affect the lives of all the citizens of Toronto. I don't have time to play footsie with a love-struck fledgling." Spark's eyes began to glow hotly as Tracy indicated toward the door. "Please leave." He grabbed her, pushing her toward the couch, lowering her to the cushions. His eyes flashed golden again as he murmured, "I love these macho makeout scenes." "How about I mash your macho," Tracy offered, lifting her knee and planting it firmly into a vulnerable part of Spark's anatomy. She gave a shove and the vampire toppled backwards, snarling. Tracy got up swiftly and ran toward the door of her apartment. "Feel free to crash here tonight, lover, I have other plans." The detective grabbed her purse and headed out the door. Outside, he was in front of her immediately. "I make the rules in this relationship, young woman." "Ha!" she retorted wittily, for Tracy is smooth and funny as well as bright and beautiful. The blonde female detective placed her hand on Spark's chest and pushed him aside. He blocked her way again. She went to step around him. Blocked again. "Last chance for a stylish escape," Tracy warned. Spark smiled, fangs evident. Tracy snarled back and swung. She hit him, of course, with that beige purse known affectionately as the bag-o-doom. Tracy had used it as a weapon previously, and she knew how to handle it. *THWACK* It impacted the side of Spark's head. He smiled wickedly in response. Tracy leaned back, drawing more power for her swing. *THWACK* again. The purse flew open and pieces of paper began flying everywhere. The altercation between detective and vampire had not gone unnoticed by passersbys, and quite a crowd had gathered to watch. As the sheets began descending to the ground, good Samaritans began retrieving them. Then, someone snickered. Tracy paused in mid-swing, looking around to find the humor in her situation. One of the good citizens of Toronto was reading one of the sheets of the paper that had flown out of her bag. That person's snickers were soon joined by the grins, guffaws, snorts and leers of most of the other folk who had helped in the paper recovery process. Tracy reached out and grabbed one of the documents, reading it closely. Then she read closer. Then she turned dark pink. Held in her hot little hands was a printout from the Nunkies Fantasy Manual on-line version. "Quite a collector, aren't you?" a burley man jibed from the crowd. "Can't get enough of Nunkies, ehhh?" "Indeed?" Spark said, his eyes feverish with irk. "That fact was not in your dossier. I will be back." He swooshed upward and was gone. Leaving Tracy scrambling to recover her dignity and protect herself from a reputation as a litterbug. ******************************** "So, you can see my dilemma," Spark was saying. "My first attempt was foiled. I need additional information--I believe your source mentioned 'something juicy.' My tactics will be more subtle next time, more cerebral, but I must have that key that will make her receptive to my advances." He leaned over the sitting Patt. "Get me the information, immediately." "I'll work on it tomorrow," the Third Cousin replied. "Immediately," Spark ordered hotly. "No." Spark stepped back. Patt looked up, eyes bleary. "LaCroix knows you're in town, by the way." Golden eyes, deadly and hot. "You told him?" Patt shook her head. "LaCroix is too old and powerful to need me to tattle on you. No, he found out on his own. That's why I'm not really frightened of you anymore. My expected lifespan is currently about as long as a toilet flush anyway. LaCroix kill me; you kill me. What's the difference?" "I know where your family lives," Spark began. "So does he," Patt spat back. "Look . . . I'm tired of you. I've spent the last sixty hours being threatened and almost killed by an ancient vampire, chewed out by a High Priestess, assigned tunnel cementing duty, chasing down errant chariot drivers and then trying to help a friend who got cut off at the knees just because she tried to make life more interesting for folks. Do you think a fictional vampire scares me at the moment? No." Patt stood up, human eyes glaring, nostrils flaring in wrath. "If you think Tracy was a challenge, you ain't seen nothing yet, big boy. You haven't seen a transplanted Tennessean with a burr up her . . . bottom. I need sleep. I need rest. I need peace of mind. Now I promised I'd deal with you, get your darned information for you, but it will be tomorrow. Understand? Got that? Good. Now get out." "I'm leaving, but not because you ordered it," Spark raged. "It's almost dawn and I wouldn't be caught undead in this Shrine during the day. I *will* expect your cooperation when you have your senses back." Then he was gone. "Senses back?" Patt laughed joylessly, falling into the softness of her bed. "Then he's in for a very, very long wait." ************************************** patt79ad@juno.com "A New Week" By Patt Elmore When: Monday Where: NA Shrine and beyond ******************************** Patt had been right about one thing. She had needed sleep. She had expected several moments of fitful slumber before waking to face yet another crisis. Somehow, though, she fell asleep and slept soundly. Birds were chirping outside when Patt awoke. There were cleaning sounds all around. Patt got up, got dressed and left her cubicle. She began wandering the Shrine, marveling at how well along the NA's were in cleaning up after the Dark Perk attack. The Third Cousin paused in front of the "Reese Cup" Tapestry and had a sudden urge for a peanut butter and banana sandwich. Patt wandered into the kitchen and gathered the ingredients for her breakfast of choice. Still half-asleep, she reached for a coffee cup and jumped back when she saw what was inside the china bowl. "Who stuck the rabbit head in my cup?!!" Patt shouted at no one in particular. "We couldn't leave them in the drool cups," no one in particular answered back. "We'd be in trouble if Nunkies stopped by. Use styrofoam." Patt made a face, but reached for the throw away cup without further argument. She poured herself a half cup of the day old darkness and stared down at it. "The least the DP's could do was leave us some Perfect Bean to help with our recovery," she muttered. The caffeine jolt did it's job and Patt was ready for the massive list of errands she had on tap. During her weekend in the tunnels, chores had piled up. First of all, she had three errant camels to return to Vachon's church before the Vaqueras came looking for them. Patt decided that this was one chore she could dole out. She scribbled a quick note and nabbed a newer NA member as she went by. The NA protested the assignment, but Patt used her advanced age and sad physical condition, and the NA finally conceded to do the deed, if nothing else than to escape the mature addict's pitiful moanings. The next thing was taking care of Spark's demands, and that meant dealing with the merc she'd hired. Patt went back to her room and quickly checked her e-mail, locating the post which Spark had hacked into. Patt then shot a message back to Brianna, making plans to meet later and *discuss* the current status of things. That left the afternoon to help with the Shrine cleanup. Which she did. And, for the first time in a long time, she felt like whistling. ***************************************** *Ding* *Dong* Laplor went to the door, peeping through the security hole with caution. Nothing was discernable. Laplor opened the door and noticed a message clothes-penned to the mailbox. It read: > "HI, my Vaquera friends. Thanks so much for the borrowed > transportation. I have returned "LaCroix" Camel and the > unnamed Camel. They're tied on the fence outside. I've > enclosed a bill for their feed the last few days. > > The thing is, though, the little blonde female camel and ? > Lavalianna, the burro, have become good friends. I'd hate to > break them up. Can I please *rent* her for the rest of the > war? If so, please disregard bill and apply to rental > expense. > > Thanks in advance for your generosity and understanding. Laplor scratched her head and looked toward the fence. Sure enough, two of the camels had been returned. "Looks like the mature one is true to her word," Lap mumbled, balling the enclosed invoice in her fist. "Let's go see just how much camel renting is running these days." ******************************* Late in the afternoon, Patt got a phone call. She was surprised when she heard the caller's voice. "Hi. You doing okay?" Patt smiled at the friendly tone her caller used. "Yea, pretty good. Considering." "I heard. Want to meet and talk about things?" "Sure, but things are pretty hectic right now. We were attacked .. . ." The other person laughed. "Well, who hasn't been attacked. We're an attacking bunch of fools this war." Patt grinned too. "Listen, friend Knightie, how does supper tomorrow night sound? I still owe you a Chinese dinner, if I remember right." The other person chuckled. "Yes, I believe you do. Tomorrow night, then, unless something comes up." "Later," the friends said, and continued on with their chores. ********************** patt79ad@juno.com ******************** Back to the Fiendish Glow (1/1) - 10:00 AM Monday morning Time: during Winkin, Blinkin, and . Tinkerbell? (3/4) Heather sighed as she left her quarters in the shrine. Thank goodness her tapestry was still okay. The MacCousin couldn't help drooling a bit at the site of those knees. She shook herself out of what may have been a great nunklear meltdown. She yawned at the idea of having to be up so early, but since Lora had conveniently disappeared, she would have to help Brenda open up the place. The MacCousin straightened her ancient colors MacIntyre sash and pulled on her sandals. She got up off her bed and then lay back down again. "Just five mo' minutes," she promised herself. She had plenty of time to get there at 10:30. (20 minutes later) The MacCousin sat wringing her hands over a computer as a dark figure with yellow glowing eyes, leaned over her shoulder. "Haven't you figured out her password yet?" he growled. Heather broke out in a sweat. She had tried fifty passwords and still had not been able to break into Patt's email. "I don't know! I don't know!" Heather sat bolt upright in bed and shivered. Ever since last Saturday night, she had been having bad dreams. "Och," she mumbled, looking at the clock. She gathered up her bag and took off toward the shrine entrance, hoping there would be a cab waiting nearby. There were hardly any vehicles on the street. MacHeather started to run. **** Heather opened the street-level door to the upstairs living quarters by running her arm under the Shamrock sensor. The sensor picked up her glow and the door unlocked . Where was everyone? "Hello?" she called out. She turned and looked around the place. All she could hear was a bunch of racket upstairs. "How did the staff manage to get up there?" the MacCousin wondered to herself. "They must have been given an emergency key." She nearly ran into several members of the staff when she turned the last corner. "What's going on?" she asked everyone. "Ms. Bell is locked in her room, an' she willna let any o' us in," answered Danny. "Well, how is she going to know you're out here if you don't knock?" asked Heather. She began to walk toward the door. "Be careful," said Deirdre. "Look at tha faery lights under the door." Heather observed the glow emanating from underneath the door, but she decided to start banging on the door anyway. "Brenda! Brenda!" she called. Soon the staff began pounding on the door along with her. ************* Heather -- the MacCousin--CIP from yet another wacky account maccousin@hotmail.com