***Saturday, November 18, 1995*** HEADING HOME (a) by Cindy Brewer Time: Before dawn Place: Vachon's church Unzipping her suitcase as quietly as she could, Cindy began to pack, trying to remember if she'd forgotten anything. She checked the bathroom and came out with her toothbrush; remembering her glass cleaner, she turned around and ran smack dab into Vachon. The toothbrush clattered to the floor. "I really wish you'd stop doing that," Cindy said with a smile. "My nerves are not going to be the same after this trip." Vachon smiled, handing her the toothbrush. "Sorry. I just wanted to make sure you all got off okay." "What are you guys talking about?" Sherri whispered as she stepped over a sleeping Torrey. Cindy glanced at her sheepishly. "Sorry, Sherri. Didn't mean to wake you." Sherri smiled. "You didn't. My flight's at five thirty." Cindy glanced at her watch. "Can I catch a ride with you to the airport?" Sherri nodded. "Sure." Cindy finished rolling up her sleeping bag took one final look around the room before closing her suitcase. "You ready?" Sherri nodded. "Yeah, I just have to make one final check make sure I have everything." Cindy removed a shopping bag from behind her suitcase and took out the object, walking over to Vachon. "I got you this to keep you company until the next war," Cindy said, handing the vampire a stuffed cow. Blink. Blink. "Thanks. I think." Cindy giggled at the expression on Vachon's face as he held the stuffed animal as far away from him as he could. "Don't worry, it doesn't moo. I took the batteries out." A car horn echoed through the church and Cindy winced, glancing at the vaqueros, making sure none of them had woken. They hadn't. Cindy picked up her suitcase and sleeping bag and walked toward the door. She stopped and went back to Vachon, hugging him. "Thank you for putting up with our craziness. I had a great time." Vachon nodded. "Just give me awhile to recover before you guys start the next war, okay?" Cindy smiled. "Okay, but I can't make any promises." ### SHERRI TAKES FLIGHT by Sherri Campbell Time: Early Place: Vachon's church Pushing the last tag of clothing into her carryall, Sherri zipped the bag shut. \\How the heck that stuff got pink spots on it is anyone's guess. Must have happened somewhere along the line. I guess we were just too busy to notice!// She picked up the carryall and placed it atop the large carton neatly bound with rope and strapping tape. Looking around, she could find nothing else that was obviously hers. \\Huh, bet Vachon finds stuff for weeks after we're gone...// She looked around at the mostly unconscious Vaqueros. That party had been something. She was glad they had managed to leave early. \\If we hadn't gotten out of there as early as we did, I sure wouldn't have managed to get up this early. I really hate mornings!// Stepping over to Torrey, she leaned over. "Hey, Torrey?" She spoke softly so as not to wake the others. "Torrey?" Torrey's eyes snapped open. "Wha.." "Shh, softly. I just wanted to say good-bye. It's been fun." Torrey rubbed her eyes, rolled out of her sleeping bag, and stood. "Yeah, it sure has!" They stood grinning at each other for a moment, then hugged. Sherri looked at her watch and shook her head. "Darn! Well, I had best get going." She turned and took a step towards her gear and bumped into something. Jerking back she looked up and met Vachon's amused glance. "Going without saying good-bye?" "Uh, no... I, well, I didn't want to disturb you..." Sherri semi-stuttered in shock. "Of course I wanted to say good-bye." Vachon grinned and hugged her slightly. "How about some help with this carton of books?" Sherri grinned and shrugged. "Thank you, Vachon, for everything!" Vachon nodded and, lifting the carton to his shoulder, hauled it down to the van. Sherri turned to Torrey, nodded once, grabbed her carryall bag, and left. Looking at the church in the faint dawn light, she nodded once. \\Well, I learned a lot during this War, but I'm glad I came!// ********** Exiting the plane in Redmond, Sherri looked at her watch. *sigh* \\I hit every town between Toronto and Redmond, and some of them I think I saw twice!// According to her trusty Casio, it was 7:50 Monday morning. \\Bleah, I guess I'll go on in to work, clear my desk and take the rest of the day off. I need the sleep.// Driving her car to the office took 10 minutes, so she walked in exactly at 8:00 am. Looking at her desk, her jaw dropped to the ground and stayed there. \\Oh NO!// Her desk was buried one foot deep with payroll files, bookkeeping files and phone messages. \\Back to the real world! AAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!// ### MERC FESTIVENESS by Christina Kamnikar Time: Early Place: The Raven Some of the Mercs were getting a bit, well, happy. There was all the chocolate, and all the alcohol; there were boasts to be made, and near-misses to be shuddered over; Maureen had been telling them why Betsy was a redhead, and they'd all enjoyed watching Jamie stalk around the Raven with the Holy Toothpick Gun. But finally, it was because they were glad and sad the War was over, and that they had GOTTEN PAID to have this much fun. Maureen was hiccupping, and trying not to giggle, but the sound of Christina and Sara singing the Gaston song with the new Nick verses, and the Lacroix verses, and hearing Darkangel come up with some Miklos verses was too much for her. "Stop! Please..." "Mau-reeen! You made me lose my place!" Sara complained. "Now we have to start over!" "Ahhhhhh!" Lane yelled in frustration. "That's it, you're on your own, Your Madness. I can't take another rendition of the Nobody Does It Better song!" He stalked off, probably in search of more alcohol, while Maureen panted weakly in spent merriment. "No-one's thick as Nick Knight," Christina sang, only slightly off-key. "Kisses chicks like Nick Knight! And when it comes down to it no-one has..." the frantic waving from Jamie made her squint across the room at her former partner-in-crime. "What? Why is she signalling me? I like to sing, there's so much noise, who's going to know the..." a hand grasped her shoulder and hauled her to her feet, "difference?" she finished querulously, then turned around. It was Nick. Maureen was torn between hysterical laughter and total pity. Here Chris had been, her first War, hopelessly hoping to meet up with Nick through most of the action; she never managed one good reason to do so; and she finally gets to meet him, and it's because she's singing That Song. "Eep." "YOU are the one who came up with those verses," Nick said dangerously. "Aren't you?" Christina blinked and nodded her head, then reconsidered and shook it, then just shrugged pathetically. "Why would anyone make up something so... soo..." "Complimentary?" Christina whispered. Nick stared at her, then let go of her shoulder abruptly. "Embarassing! That's what it is, it's---" "Well, Tara came up with the first line, actually, and I was staying here for most of the last half of the War, and I just couldn't help trying to finish the idea, and well, I'd pretty much given up hope by then that I'd ever meet you or Janette or Natalie or Lacroix or Vachon or Tracy or anyone," Chris ran out of breath here, inhaled, then went on, "so I figured, what the heck? You'd never know. Besides, it has a really catchy melody, and it's good for venting...uh, frustration." At Nick's bewildered stare and Darkangel, Maureen and Sara's repressed hilarity, Chris added, "I'm really sorry. Sort of. Well, I'm sorry you're embarrassed. But c'mon, Nick...don't tell me you don't enjoy the attention. And, well, uh, can I have your autograph?" Knight stared at her a moment, mouth unwillingly twitching. Chris gave him her best (Maureen had seen this at work before, and it _was_ pretty effective) oh-please!!!!! look. He sighed, grabbed a cocktail napkin, and wrote "Nick Knight" on it, then snatched it away when Chris made a grab for it. "Promise you won't write any more lyrics," he growled, holding it out of reach above her head. "I promise I won't write any more lyrics about you," Christina repeated, eyes fixed on his. He raised an enquiring eyebrow; Chris raised both in a look of innocence; then Nick rolled his eyes and gave her the napkin. "Do me a favor? Leave Toronto before anyone at Metro Homicide hears that song," Nick tossed over his shoulder as he walked back toward the Knighties. Maureen collapsed into hysterical laughter at the look of sheer bliss on the younger Merc's face. "I met Nick Knight," Chris confided to Sara in the tones of a star-struck adolescent. "I know, I was there," Sara said dryly. Darkangel just shook her head and returned to scaring her troubles by holding their little heads underneath all that alcohol. *** Chris weaved unsteadily but with great purpose toward the bar, where she shoved a couple of Knighties out of the way, made faces at some Cousins, and demanded, "Miklos!!!" "Do you need something?" the bartender enquired courteously. "More scotch for Maureen, vodka martini for the Darkangel, and another daiquiri for meee," she sang out. She spotted Susan down near the end of the bar. "Susan! This is a really, really wonderful party," she commented, the effect of her enthusiasm spoiled by her yawn. She blinked at the woman standing next to Susan. "I thought Amy Hull was cured a while ago." "She was," Janette said coolly, blowing out a stream of smoke. Susan smiled at Christina in sympathy as the vampire walked away. "Oh, great, done it again," Chris mourned. "Second vampire I've pi**'d off in two hours. I guess I'm just not paying attention. Didja have to tell Nick I wrote those verses?" "It was either that or let Tara take the heat, and she might have said something to him that would've been grounds for justifiable homicide," the writer replied. "Mmph. Well, it's been a lot of fun, Susan. And I appreciate the retainer, even if I never had to protect Jamie from anyone other than herself." Christina's drinks arrived and she carefully gathered them up. "Will you be in the next War?" "Maybe. But I won't be in charge of this insanity if I can help it," Susan's smile was weary. "Enough is enough." "Isn't it, though?" The Merc was almost back at her booth when Lacroix stepped out of the shadows into her path. She froze for a second, then looked around, panic-stricken, praying for someone to rescue her. But no one seemed to notice what was going on. "You're an acquaintance of Dianne la Mercenaire's, are you not?" "Ummmm..." "And Jamie, who just *became* a Mercenary...after participating in pirating a radio signal?" Lacroix was smiling. It wasn't a nice smile, but it was an amused one. "Maybe. Why do you ask?" Chris could feel the drinks slipping through her fingers. "I'm sure they're around here somewhere. Why don't you ask Miklos if he's seen them?" "I don't care where they are at the moment. But I was wondering if you could confirm---ah, I see you can." Lacroix's smile grew wider. "What an enterprising young woman you've been the past few weeks. Give me a reason why I shouldn't kill you." The calm demand was spoken as if he were asking for directions to the restrooms. The Merc's brain went into frenzy-mode, where anything and everything could spill out of her mouth. "Because the Mercs would come after you... because Nick wouldn't like another vampire murder...because it's not worth killing me over--" "You STOLE my radio show." "I gave it back!" Chris closed her eyes in horror when she realized what she'd said. "Because, because, uuhhhhhhhh well, I guess, that's about it. I'm going to go now. Okay?" "NOT okay." He was glaring at her. "And, might I add, NOT good enough. I think we'll just step out into the alley, shall we?" One last, tiny, vital piece of information jogged free of Chris's terror-driven brain at that second. "I still have copies of the tapes of you and Sandra." Maybe that was a mistake, she thought an instant later, as the vampire's glare became one of cold fury. But she kept talking. "I can't get to them, you can't destroy them, and if I suddenly go missing or undead or dead, they'll be sent out to all the major broadcasting affiliates in North America." "Where are they?" he ground out between clenched teeth. Chris couldn't believe she was still alive. He saw the answer in her mind, and Lacroix's brows drew together in fury. "You put them *there*? How did you--" "It pays to keep contacts from old jobs. Even old jobs you hated. They're behind six inches of titanium, thirty feet of barbed wire, a surveillance system that puts Merc Central to shame, and about 100 guys with sub-machine guns; even YOU can't get to them without getting killed, caught, or exposed," Chaos stopped to breathe, then tried to smile. "Oh, look, it wasn't *that* big of a deal--" "To Natalie, from Lacroix?" he quoted menacingly. "Oh, you listened. Well, that's flattering." Christina started to walk away, feeling fairly certain that that she wasn't going to die. "Ms. Kamnikar." She turned around, more because she didn't dare *not* to than because she wanted to. "I'll see you during the next War." Lacroix melted back into the shadows. Chris took a healthy swig of her daiquiri, looked at the other drinks in her hands, shrugged, muttered, "Well, it's not like I have an early flight," and downed them all in ten seconds. Then she went back to the bar to get her fellow Mercs some drinks, and to send a shot to Lyn Cannaday, in apology for not being able to finish her job. Looked like a new career was off to a healthy start. ### BEATLES-IN MY LIFE-GOODBYE by Crystal Guffey Time: Early Place: Vachon's church Crystal received the call, early on Saturday morning. She had to be back at work at 8:00 on Monday morning. The sub that had been taking her place at school had to go out of town for the Thanksgiving holidays. She was dead tired. It had been a difficult three weeks, but with all the hecticness, it had still been a lot more peaceful and calm than the school kids would be this week. It was always bad before a holiday, they would be buck *wild* this week! A lot had happened in the past three weeks. She had made new friends, fought in a war, and had even been tormented with cow patties. At the time, the bad things seemed to be so bad. But looking back on it, she already had to laugh. She thought that it was especially funny that Sherri didn't understand about her fascination with The Beatles. The very first song she ever learned was "She Loves You," and that memory was so old that she barely even remembered it. Plus, the fact that she and her sisters used to play like they were Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band and put on shows doing the songs from the album and that she knew every word to every Beatle song...how could she feel any other way about The Beatles?? As Crystal thought about this, her mind jumped to the other people that she had shared the past three weeks with and especially to Torrey. How she had to constantly guard Torrey from Miklos (or was it Miklos from Torrey???). She smiled as she thought all of these thoughts, but at the same time she was sad. She felt close to these people...after all, they had been through a war together. She jokingly wondered if there was someone who would be able to give them post-war trauma counseling if they should need it. As she picked up her backpack to stuff in her things, the moo can rolled across the floor and gave a long moooo. Just as she was picking it up, another hand beat her to it. "You can't forget this," Vachon said. "Oh, no, this is what started this whole war for me," Crystal said with a soft laugh. She looked into Vachon's eyes, "But it was worth it...just to let you know that there are some people out here that care for you...it *was* worth it." Vachon did his slow *blink, blink* as he digested this information. "I have never had such support. I must admit that sometimes I wondered if it was all worth it and I was ready to send you all home, if only for your own protection. But, I'm glad that you came." He quietly smiled. As Vachon started to hand Crystal the moo can, she stopped him. Closing his hand with hers, she said, "I want you to have it...to remember me by. If you ever need me again...just give me a little moo!" Vachon laughed, "Yeah, I'll do just that!" Crystal walked around the church to make memories, because she always felt that no place ever stayed the same for long...so you must make the most of what you have, when you have it. She even went and sat on the window sill where she had to go when the church was cow pattied, just to remember. As she looked out across the city of Toronto, she realized just how beautiful it was and promised herself that she would return and visit it again someday. Crystal said goodbye to the other Vaqueros. Her taxi honked and she was out of the door and on her way home to Tennessee. But, as Vachon walked her downstairs, she leaned over and whispered, "I remember the eclipse and you. Thanks." "Thanks to you too! It was a night I will *never* forget," answered Vachon softly. She got into the taxi, and as it was pulling away, she looked back at the church for one last time...making a memory. Vachon stood in the doorway and watched her taxi, until he could see it no more. ### AND WHERE WERE YOU ON THE NIGHT IN QUESTION, MS. REMENCUS? by Laura B. Waskey Time: Early morning Place: The Raven Cousin Laura looked around the shambles of The Raven. The plan had worked, and it was all because of Cousin Candice. Now, she had her own agenda to accomplish. Yes, it had been a fun party to crash, as it had reminded her of her Navy days during Desert Storm, storming the beaches and all. Yes, she was an adrenaline junkie, maybe she ought to become a Merc--not! Being a Cousin was much more fun and if you ever got into a serious jam, LaCroix was there to bail you out. She didn't know if the Merc Guild could claim that nor could they protect you like a 2,000 year-old vampire could. Plus, Uncle did have the cutest as.... Someone bumped into her and saved this from becoming an X-rated post. Jill, yes, that name reminded her of her last mission: to find Natpackers Leslie and Jill in this mess and question them about the break-in at her house. Looking around the room, she spotted them and began making her way toward them with lethal intent. All the while muttering to herself: "I'll teach them to steal my 'Moon over Miami' tapes!" Leslie saw her first and grabbed Jill's arm to get her attention. "What?" Jill said and turned in the direction Leslie was motioning. Then Jill saw it. "Run for your life," Leslie cried and took off in the opposite direction that Laura was coming in. Jill was right behind her. Laura saw them run. She had learned that at the police academy. Suddenly Laura stopped and bent down to take off her pumps. Then she took off after them. Leslie and Jill had run towards the back of The Raven and were heading in the direction of the cellar. Luckily for Cousin Laura (and unluckily for Leslie and Jill), she had spent a lot of time at The Raven these past few weeks and knew the layout of the club much better than the two Natpackers. Next thing you know, Leslie and Jill had nowhere to run anymore. It was either go down into the cellar or face Cousin Laura's wrath. Jill and Leslie looked at each other, then at the cellar door. They had heard horrible stories about the cellar. Laura slowly walked up to the pair, seeing that they had nowhere else to run. "Running for a reason, ladies?" Laura growled. "We know that look by now, Laura, and we weren't about to 'visit' LaCroix again," Leslie said, and Jill nodded in agreement. "I had no intention of making you visit Uncle again, unless of course you two don't tell me the truth. And I do have one *very* important question for you two." While she was speaking, Laura moved in closer so she was just inches away from Leslie's and Jill's faces. "Who in the hell broke into my house and stole my tapes?" Laura screamed. "There was a reason," Leslie moaned. she thought. "Ah, so you admit it." Laura smiled and thought of the best revenge she could to make them pay for their crime. "It was because of the vampire hunters and Natalie," Jill tried explaining. "You both know I could care less about Nicky-boy's little pet, that is no excuse. And I thought we all were friends, I mean remember Crescent City?" Looking at Jill, Laura said, "We followed LaCroix around that entire weekend and extolled the virtues on him working out on a Stairmaster. I mean the Venerable Object has to get toned somehow!" "We're sorry about your tapes," Leslie said. "And the "Kick me" sign," Jill added. "Forgive us and let's go back to being friends?" Leslie asked. "Well, maybe, but what do I get out of the deal?" Laura asked, a true Cousin to the end. "How about I write a love story and have LaCroix fall in love with a certain redhead?" Jill inquired. "Well, I guess that would be okay," Laura stated while tossing her long red hair. "Okay, deal, Jill." Jill sighed in relief; she was off the hook. Now Laura looked at Leslie. "So, what are you going to do to apologize?" "I know, how about I take you to the XFiles Convention next weekend so we can meet Chris Carter?" "Just the XFiles Convention?" Laura asked. "Okay, the XFiles Con and Planet Hollywood NYC." Leslie caved in and thought that finally that would make Laura happy. She would have promised almost anything to avoid seeing LaCroix again. She didn't love the man's butt as much as Jill and Laura did. "Great, deal." That problem taken care of, all of them shook hands and then hugged to seal the pact. "I'm so glad the war is nearly over...so we can go back to being friends again," Laura said as she smiled at her two friends. Maybe Natpackers weren't too bad after all. The three walked away from the cellar door and back into the main area of The Raven to continue partying... ### KISSING COUSINS by Laura B. Waskey Time: Very early morning Place: The Raven "Oh, gosh, here she goes again," cried Ravenette Sheryl. The "she" Sheryl was referring to was Cousin Laura who was dancing her way across The Raven's bartop. The Doors' song, "Roadhouse Blues," blared in the background. Laura was wearing a black mini skirt and tank top and could have quite easily passed for one of the strippers in the old Raven that LaCroix had been running. Laura grinded to the beat of the music. "Get her down from there," Leslie declared, "before she falls down and breaks her neck!" Laura's friends, Leslie, Jill and Sheryl were watching their very drunk friend dance her way around the bartop and back again, while Jim Morrison's voice belted out: "Yeah, we're going to the Roadhouse and going have a real good time. ... Do it, honey, do it!" "I give up, you get her down," slurred a very inebriated Sheryl. "I vant gin....Miklos!!" she screamed and went off in the direction of The Raven's bartender. Leslie and Jill were the only ones left who showed any concern for their very drunk friend. Most of the other patrons at The Raven were also too drunk to care or slowly making their way out the door to go home and get some well deserved sleep. And Jim kept singing: "Let it roll, baby roll.." "I *love* that man!" Laura said as she danced past Leslie and Jill. Jill wisely decided to give up like Sheryl and went in search of some booze herself. Leslie, the only non-drinker in the group, stayed and decided to help Laura, no matter what. "Come on, Laura, get down." She motioned for Laura to get off the bartop. "No way, Les...hey, have you seen my tattoo?" (Get your minds out of the gutter, people.) But, the only problem was that her tattoo was on her hip and in order to do that she would have to pull her skirt up.... Laura fell off the bartop as Leslie dragged her down to prevent that scene from happening. (This is a PG-13 List.) "Oopsiey, daisy!" Laura cried. "Laura, why don't you go sit in the corner for awhile?" Leslie advised her friend. "Okey-doikey." And Cousin Laura trotted off to a corner and Leslie returned to the Natpack and relative calm. As Laura sat down, she noticed that Uncle was also in this particular corner. Finally, it was her chance to talk to LaCroix alone. So, being the good Cousin she was and too drunk to care for her own safety, she made her way over to the table where LaCroix was and plopped right down in his...lap! "Uncle!" she cried and threw her arms around his neck. Poor LaCroix had had enough of these women and this silly War. He tried to get Cousin Laura off of him, but even his vampire strength couldn't dislodge a woman on a mission. No, correction, a drunk woman on a mission. "Uncle, no, Lucien, you really didn't love that awful Fleur, did you?" Cousin Laura whispered. Laura had asked a version of this question at Crescent City and had not been pleased with the response. Uncle growled and bared his teeth. Laura just sighed and batted her eyelashes at him. Drunks have no sense of fear or self-preservation. "Please, Uncle, you can tell me. After all, I did whatever you asked for this War." "Just like a mortal should, ma petite," LaCroix responded. "But, surely after all these years, you are ready for love again...aren't you? ...Hey, do you like redheads?" And for emphasis, she tossed her long red hair in a very Marcia Brady-like fashion. "Do ya, uh, uh?" Laura asked breathlessly. "I *love* red hair, mon petite chou-chou," and Lucien gently touched Cousin Laura's face. thought Laura. In her drunken state, Laura decided to go for broke. No guts, no glory, she always said. "My red hair?" she whispered. "Oui, only yours," LaCroix answered. "Yes, yes, yes!" And with that Laura planted a lip-lock on old Lucien that would have melted most mortal men. However, Lucien wasn't mortal. From across the room, Sheryl suddenly noticed that a certain redhead was...making out with...LaCroix. Suddenly the pair came up for air and Sheryl saw the woman's face. It was Laura. "Sh*t!" and Sheryl bolted in the couple's direction. Laura was in heaven. Kissing Uncle. It was all her dreams come true. Then she felt his mouth on her neck; THAT sobered her up real quick. She jumped about 2 feet in the air and out of LaCroix'a arms. Lucien on the other hand had a dazed look on his face. Sheryl reached Laura just as LaCroix grabbed for her to finish the deed, and pulled her away from the very vamped out Lucien. "You better get out of here, chica, if you know what is good for you," Sheryl stated as she dragged Laura away from LaCroix's clutches. "But, I vant him, Sherri...." Laura wailed. "You want to be dead then? No more fun in the sun, no more trips to Australia for the sunbaking or surfing? Then go ahead and go back to him. And remember you have to drink blood." Being an ever practical Cousin, Laura decided this was a good time to leave the party and go home. So, quickly and without saying any goodbyes she walked--no, make that ran--out the door of The Raven and jumped into the first taxi she saw. "The airport and quick!" Laura just hoped LaCroix would forget about this entire incident and hoped she made it home before Uncle decided to come looking for his dinner. Lucien LaCroix sat back in his chair and watched the remaining people in The Raven, which would be turned back over to him today by midnight by those annoying Ravenettes. The War was over and he couldn't wait to have these pesky mortals out of HIS club. he thought. Blocking out the noise around him, he absentmindly stroked his ring and thought about red hair.... ### GOODBYES AND HOMECOMING by Toni C. Holm Time: As the Cousins leave Place: The Raven "You've come to say goodbye then? Back to that dreary little town and your lover?" LaCroix's voice came from a shadow at a table at the back of the room. She smiled. "Drinking alone? I thought you might be civil for once, my friend. Many of the people out there people here have done you a service. You've hardly been a model of gratitude." "Oh, I'm grateful, my dear," he sneered, moving toward her. "How shall I thank you? How shall I thank them all?" He reached up to brush aside her hair and run a cold finger down her neck. She leaned towards him briefly, then pulled away. "What, no little favor I can perform to reward you?" he said in the mocking voice of The Nightcrawler. "Lucien," she gave his name the lilt of schoolgirl french. "Don't be insulting. I've known you too long. You're hardly one for favors." "Nothing?" he said, laughing. "None that you would grant, or that I'd accept," she said. "A pity," he said, sitting again and pouring the red liquid from a bottle into the crystal wineglass that sat there. She turned and then stopped. "A favor then? Don't call on me again." She pulled the thick red hair back over her shoulders. "I'm not sure how many more 'favors' I have left." He laughed, respect, perhaps sadness, mingling with devilment in his eyes. "I don't think I can promise you that." She turned away and this time left without a look. She took a commercial flight from Toronto, needing the hubbub of people. He was there to meet her plane in Seattle and she hugged him hard to make sure all this was still real. "Have fun in Toronto?" he asked, kissing her. She looked at him and said, "Later, I'll tell you all about it. Let's go home." ### THE ROUND TABLE by Felicia Bollin Time: 5am EST Place: The Raven Janette sat, temporarily by herself at one of Lorelei's new round tables in the corner. Both hands were at her temples, and the glass of bloodwine in front of her remained untouched. The pounding of the music was strangely comforting, as always. Too bad it couldn't last. Just a few more moments, then she could resume her cheerful party-going stance.... From out of nowhere silently slid the three. In front of the frame made by her clasped arms slid a small wrapped package. "It's a little something," the shy one, Chanda, said. "I think you should open it when you're--" Catherine gave her a quick jab in the ribs, "wherever you're going," she finished tactfully. "Janey and Nicky found it. That is, the makings for it. I commissioned it. To make up for the jewelry you didn't get from Nick." She didn't quite add "that lousy jerk who failed to spend even one day with you before you had to leave," but the accusation was plain as day in her voice. Her intense eyes kindled in indignation. Janette smothered a smile at this and tucked it quickly into her pocket. "Thank you." Making an effort to return to the vivacious owner and guest of honor persona, she lifted her glass to her vivid lips. "What are you drinking?" "Red wine," Chanda answered. "In your honor. Miklos said this vintage was a particular favorite of yours." "Miklos would know." She turned in the chair. "Well, Ari, what is it you three have on your mind?" She smiled. "Certainly I gave you enough ammunition earlier with that little hour-long 'talk' on Nicola to remain amused in the next three Wars, even without my help." "You'll come back," Ari asserted stoutly. "And what makes you so sure?" Janette lifted a brow quizzically, tongue planted firmly in cheek as she downed half a glass with a ruthless abandon that almost, just almost, scared the heck out of the three. But not quite. Whether it was newbie naivete or blessed ignorance, was not clear. But either way, these newcomers, who had been so busy on her behalf, had courage aplenty. Almost no common sense, but lots of courage. "Because you *like* us," she said, almost with an edge of defiance, unconsciously copying Janette's actions as she did so. "I can see it in your eyes. You like all your Ravenettes, not just us; but as for the Immortal Beloveds--well, we failed you. You'll need to stay and show us how it's done." Her head drooped. Janette laughed softly, and covered Ari's hand with her own. "Whyever should I?" she asked, still smiling. "On the contrary, you please me greatly. Susan told me of some of your exploits. While I can't say I can *condone* them all, especially that stunt with Nicola's *cop* computer network--that was not nice, but it has a certain--flair. And it will *certainly* keep me in the front of people's minds. I hope Nicolas has a good cover story to tell his Captain." She raised her glass to the three, inclining her head in a toast at the same time her lips playfully inscribed a 'tsk, tsk!'. "Why do you treat Susan so casually?" Catherine asked, point-blank. "She's not just another mortal, you know. I believe she'd even stop writing, if you asked her. And you treat her like part of the staff or something. Why?" "And you gave away the journal," Chanda echoed in rapid-fire succession with a gimlet stare. "You told Nick you had a lover," Ari blurted accusingly in concert. Chanda and Catherine nodded, the picture of outrage. "And you don't. That was a really stupid thing to do." Over behind the bar polishing glasses, Miklos drew a deep breath and waited for the explosion. But it never came. The old Janette might easily have annihilated mere mortals at this _lese-majeste_, but this slightly bruised, more introspective version only gave her mouth a wry twist and poured more wine from their bottles. If Miklos were Nicolas, and Janette had looked at him that way, in the manner of a wounded, but still inquisitive sparrow with head cocked and eyes bright, he would have cheerfully *eaten* a wooden stake, splinter by splinter. Leaning her head on both arms, she looked off into space and murmured, "There's a saying whose author escapes me now. It goes thus: 'To love is easy, and therefore common; but ah, to understand--!' " Her gaze focused intently on the bar, scanning from grouping to grouping. "I--*understand* Nicolas. And while he does not understand me, not all of me that is, that is to be expected. He's a male, after all. But he is learning. He's getting smarter about me every day. "I like you all--because you, each one of you, also *understand* me just a little, some more than others, but each in your different ways. That is why you remain faithful to me, even when I am far away. And Susan, of course, understands me the best of all." She looked directly at them. "You figure it out." The girls worried at this puzzle, heads looking straight ahead. Suddenly, Ari beamed. "Ohhhhhhhhh," she said, on a long drawn-out sigh of comprehension. "Really though, Janette, you should at least give her a present if she's your favori--" "Shh!" Janette instructed merrily, eyes twinkling as she glanced around the bar in mock alarm. "She could hear you! Then I'd never have any leverage to get the best lines! They would all go to Nicola, non?" Her laugh pealed out. "Never," Catherine intoned fervently. "The day Susan goes Knightie is the day I give up Bach." But it *was* funny, in a punchy way. They all joined Janette in mirth, relieved to see her laugh. If possible, they had become even more "Janette-obsessed," as someone (a Cousin, no doubt) had phrased it, since meeting her. She was such a mercurial cocktail of exuberant emotions, when she wasn't plagued by disturbing thoughts of Nick. Ari's hand slid suddenly across the table and pressed a small object into her cold one. Startled, Janette withdrew her hand. Most people touched only by invitation. Turning the minuscule object over in her hands, a sudden radiance burned bright in her eyes, then dimmed. "Ah, yes, Nicolas' button." A hint of a challenging smile played around the corners. "Was it from the top or the bottom, _cherie_?" Her brows arched wickedly. Ari said nothing, wisely. "It was a symbol. You know, a capture-the-flag deal," Chanda offered. "And it cost us quite a lot to get it. Kidnapping is a federal offense, isn't it?" Catherine, the lawyer, silently closed her eyes and prayed no one would hear. But Janette just laughed once more, and kept laughing. "Darling, you keep it," she said assuredly, when she had calmed down. Janette smiled at her and tucked the button back in her hand. "Ari--- everyone needs to have a _preux chevalier_, now and then." "But---" Chanda began. "I do not need a button to remember Nicolas by, darling. Trust me." She tapped her forehead. "I have it all in here. And he needs nothing else to remember me." Her lips curled reflectively. "Except, perhaps--- all of you." The three ladies all sat a little straighter and prouder at those words. "And now, you know what you must do." Rising, she flicked her fingers at them in an elegant gesture that was pure vintage Janette, once more. "Keep things alive for me, until the time is right for me to return. "You came, you saw, you Warred. And---" her eyes blurred for a millisecond--- "you did quite well." Dropping a swift pat on each of their shoulders, she did a fast vampiric dissolve to the other end of the bar. the three thought at almost the same time. Ari couldn't be sure, but she could have sworn Janette had tears in her eyes--- and a smile on her lips. And, borne on the wave of the music, she could have sworn she heard a whispered, "_I have all the time in the world, Nicolas._." ### SOMETHING AT STEAK (Part 1a) Or: You Did WHAT to WHOM?!? by Allie Time: Just before dawn Place: Nick's loft Synopsis: Knightie Allie says hello, and a vampire is "steaked." Beep..beep..beep.. Allie hit the "off" button on her travel alarm clock before it awakened any of the other Knighties strewn across the floor of the loft. Rolling out of her sleeping bag, she grabbed her things and tip-toed to the bathroom. Fifteen minutes later, she headed out of the bathroom, toweling her hair dry and heading for the kitchen. Looking up at the skylight, she saw the first hints of pre-dawn light brighten the sky. Sighing, she scooped some coffee into the coffeemaker. She jumped when a quiet voice startled her from behind. "You're up early." She turned around to see Nick making his was through the obstacle course of sleeping bodies toward the couch. "Umm, yeah." She felt awkward talking to the man -- the *vampire* -- alone. She was torn between complete and utter love for the guy and a sneaking suspicion that being around him was more dangerous than it was worth. "If you're looking for the new remote, I think it's by the television." "Got it," he said quietly, and used the remote to lower the blinds, cutting out the first light of dawn. He turned back toward Allie and seemed to notice her outfit for the first time. "Going out?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at her. Allie looked down at her black tights and layers of warm clothing and smiled awkwardly. "Yeah, I thought I'd ride around a bit and do some sightseeing before we have to leave." Nick glanced at the bike helmet on the kitchen counter, and then gestured toward the black-and-white road bike propped up in the corner of the room. "You're going biking?" he asked incredulously. The coffee maker hissed, signaling that the pot was ready. Allie poured herself a cup, then stirred in a bit of milk and sugar. She shrugged and said, "I think it's the best way to see a city." Nick shook his head. "You're going to need that warm drink. It's cold out there today. Novembers in Toronto aren't quite the same as those in Philadelphia." Allie laughed quietly. "Oh, don't worry about me. I grew up somewhere a bit colder. Besides, I *am* wearing warm clothes." Nick smiled and his eyes lost their focus. *** Flashback mode on: Looking past the crowd of Knighties, Nick saw the loft elevator open to reveal a shivering woman clutching a helmet and bicycle and demanding a cup of hot cocoa. After warming up a bit, she apologized for her late arrival. "My car had a pretty serious breakdown just north of Hamilton," she said once her teeth stopped chattering. "I decided that it would be quicker to take the bike off the back of the car and ride up than to wait for the car to be repaired." Flashback mode off. *** Bringing his attention back to the present, Nick smiled and his eyes sparkled with amusement. "I guess after your ride to Toronto, a quick trip around town won't seem like much. Where are you headed?" At the sight of the famous smile, Allie turned away quickly and grabbed the edge of the counter lest her knees give out and dump her unceremoniously on the kitchen floor. "Uhh...I thought I'd head down to the lake this morning." Draining the last of the coffee, she pulled on her gloves and picked up her bike helmet from the kitchen counter. "Well, I'd better get going if I plan to be back when the rest of this gang wakes up!" Nick watched the red-haired woman collect her bike and push it into the elevator. Smiling again, he shook his head. *** Allie rolled her bike out of the warehouse and checked her Toronto map. She double-checked to be sure that she had remembered to bring the address of CERK, and then hopped on the bike and rolled away down the street. ### THE WAR IN QUESTION by AC Chapin Time: Morning Place: AC's room AC blinked blearily, and, just because she was so good at it, pouted a little. She wasn't sure exactly what it was she had to pout about, but there was always something. Finally, her vision cleared. "Gahk!" that didn't quite seem to cover it. "Gaahcht!" no, that wasn't it either. Something more suited to the moment: "Bloody smegging dining hall pancakes!" Yeah, that about covered it. AC's room, AC's immaculate room, was, well, no longer immaculate. There was a sort of mound of books in the middle of the floor, books and papers, books and papers and pretty silvery chocolate wrappers. She stumbled around the wreckage and went to the mirror. Eyes: still brown, but ringed with a sort of dingy blue. Hair: still dark, but looking almost vachonesque in it's tangled state. Clothes: sweatpants, tee-shirt. This was a major problem. She didn't *own* sweatpants. She wouldn't be caught dead in sweatpants. And then she realized. It had happened again. Ten days of her life were gone, never to be replaced. The bad thing had happened again. She had been taken out by an enemy more unkind than Ravenettes, more annoying than Knighties, more frustrating than Die-Hards, harder to fight back against than Mercs. Midterms. She would never know what had happened to her during the last week and a half. Had Nick been forced to drink human blood to rid himself of the hiccoughs? Had Uncle managed to trounce the other factions good and thoroughly (Of course, who could doubt it)? Had she eaten anything other than chocolate and graham crackers during the last few days? Where had the sweatpants come from? And now Uncle would be doubly annoyed with her, next time he saw her. She hadn't got to meet a single Cousin. She hadn't got to show LaCroix what a good follower she was. She hadn't got to make Nick or Nat or Vachon or Tracy do anything embarassing. She hadn't even got to go to the party at the Raven. War, AC decided, was a piece of chocolate chip cheesecake with a semisweet chocolate rose on top. Midterms were hell. ### WHAT? IT'S OVER?! by Gabrielle Stendell Place: The Raven Gabi sat at the table and pouted. She swung her legs back and forth, pondering her day... That was the _last_ time she left Toronto on the last day of a war to drive down to Shreveport*. That was the last time she even _went_ to Shreveport on a FK day. "I can't believe I missed it!" Gabi lamented. "I wonder when FK airs in Shreveport**, anyway..." She just couldn't believe she'd missed the end of the war. No more attacks, no more Ribena, no more endless loop of "Bad Blood," and worst of all...no more chocolate. Propping her chin up with her hands, she heaved another gusty sigh. "All the things I had planned...all gone! I can't believe it!" Suddenly, an odd look crossed Gabi's face. "Wait a minute...what am I doing back at the Raven?" Fearfully, she glanced down at her coveted Immortal Beloved-esque gown (replete with requisite Cousinly sword pin and Merc-like chocolate stains). "And HOW THE [bleepity bleep] DID I GET COVERED IN FLOUR?"*** ---- * How did I get to Shreveport from Toronto in one day? Uhh....errr... Uncle flew me down? ** When *does* FK air in Shreveport? I looked all over for it and couldn't find it--and I _know_ it is on there! *** Heh. Guess that's what I deserve, running out on my poor e-mail the last day. ### MY HOME (a) by Jana Hege Time: 11 am Place: Vachon's Church Jana and Joe started packing up their stuff as the dogs ran around the church saying goodbye to the remaining Vaqueros. "You have to admit, it's been fun," Jana said to her husband. "I don't have to admit anything," he said with a grin. From around a corner, Vachon appeared. "Hey, guys," he said, "thanks for coming." "It wasn't exactly my idea," Joe replied. "But I'm glad I did." "I wouldn't have missed it. Almost makes me wish for another war..." "NO!" Joe and Vachon both yelled at the same time. "Anyway, I'll miss everybody. Tell Urs to keep writing to me. She tends to lose track of time and the next thing I know it's been two years since she last wrote." "Will do. Who knows, maybe I'll drop you a note too, sometime." Vachon grinned. Jana raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, right." "You ready to go?" Joe asked. Jana nodded. "Yup, let's move out." They walked to the front door of the church, where sunlight was streaming through cracks in the wood. "Um, I guess I'll take my leave here," Vachon said. He reached out to shake Joe's hand and then gave Jana a quick kiss on the cheek. "See ya." "Bye," the two replied. The dogs went bounding out the door and Joe and Jana followed. They had a long drive ahead. In the car, Jana popped her favorite Rockapella tape into the player. The song was "My Home." It seemed so appropriate, somehow. - Is it the sky today, the way that the wind's pushing the clouds - Or is it the late day sun stretching the shadows over the ground - That brings on these memories of people and places that I've never seen - And voices so strange and so sweet telling me softly - This is my home * ### SOMETHING AT STEAK (Part 1b) by Allie Place: CERK Closing the door, a Cousin walked toward Uncle with a quizzical look on her face. "A bicycle messanger just dropped off this package addressed to you. Are you expecting a delivery?" Raising an eyebrow, LaCroix answered, "No, I wasn't." Taking the package, he gave a barely perceptable sniff and turned it over. "There's no return address," the Cousin noted. "Is it safe to open?" LaCroix waved a hand at her. "Safe enough. All I smell is brandy and some sort of flesh -- probably cow flesh." The Cousin tore open the package for him, then put the insulated box contained within on the table. LaCroix loosened the straps holding the package closed and the box popped open to reveal a filet mignon steak, rare, smothered in brandy. A message written on the inside top of the insulated box proclaimed, "YOU HAVE BEEN STEAKED." Pushing the meat away, LaCroix growled. "I fail to find this amusing. Get this thing away from me." The Cousin pulled the box toward her. "You may not be a fan of solid food, Uncle, but most of the rest of us appreciate a tasty steak. Whoever sent us this message didn't realize that they were doing us a favor by providing free food." She grabbed the fork and knife included in the box and prepared to take a bite of the steak when a quick, quiet sound emanated from a barely-noticed device in the corner of the box. Immediately the brandy in which the steak was soaked burst into flames. Jumping back, the Cousin yelped, "What is this, steak flambee?" But the flames reached higher and burned hotter than any flambee meal she had ever seen in a restaurant. They continued to burn for at least five minutes while LaCroix and his follower looked on silently. Finally, the flames went out and the two were left staring at a very burnt, completely inedible slice of carbonized cow flesh. The Cousin looked over at LaCroix and stated the obvious. "It's a flaming steak." LaCroix's lip curled up in anger and he let forth a deep, angry growl. Unconsciously he raised his left hand to touch his chest. His eyes lost their focus, as if he were remembering something relating to the present attack. A moment later, he spun around to face the Cousin, eyes blazing. She stepped back involuntarily as LaCroix demanded, "Find out who sent this. Bring him or her to me -- dead or alive, it doesn't matter. But I *will* know who sent this!" The woman backed up another step, then turned and hurried out of the room. LaCroix stepped over to the table and sent the box containing the charred remnants of the filet mignon flying across the room. ### CLOSURE by Susan M. Garrett Time: Noon Place: The Raven There was music. No wonderful roses or bells on the hill . . . but, yeah, there was music. Susan sat up and slammed her head on the underside of the table. Muttering a few choice words, she picked up her big, woofly bathrobe, slipped her arms into it, and headed for the bar. Somehow, there were still people conscious. The party hadn't really stopped and she doubted it WOULD stop . . . at least until midnight. That's when they all went home. The hour before midnight, of course, was when LaCroix and the Cousins resumed ownership. Stumbling behind the bar, Susan found the electric tea-kettle, filled it with water and plugged it in. Her eyes were still half-closed, so she barely realized that Janette had danced over to the bar and was leaning on it. The fact that Janette was humming beneath her breath might have had something to do with it with the fact that her head was pounding. Janette tapped her glass on the bar--it was empty. Automatically, Susan reached for a bottle of her special blend--from the look of the stock, Janette, Vachon, and Urs had put a serious dent in that end of the supply problem--and began to pour. It was only then that Janette seemed to look at her and said, "You've been asleep?" Susan merely blinked at the accusation. "I vaguely remember Tara teaching that song to the Vaqueros--Vachon seemed to like it. Then Christina--I think it was Christina, added that section about Nick, which HE didn't find funny but I caught a couple of Knighties writing it down on the backs of cocktail napkins. And then someone added a verse about LaCroix. And then--yeah, I must have gone to sleep. I don't remember anything else after that. Although I DID have the strangest dreams about some book." Chuckling, Janette lifted the glass of blood and took a long swallow. "Ah, yes. It was your choice to read it, after all." "Yeah." Susan leaned her elbows on the bar and stared out over the club. There were still people dancing and drinking. "How the hell do they do it?" "I heard something . . . there was a news report about the reintroduction of coffee into Toronto. About half of them left for an hour or so, and when they returned they were wide awake and ready for fun." "Instant over-fix after major caffeine deprivation?" Susan grinned for a moment. "Geez, there'll be a LOT of people crashing on the way home from the war. And I'm not talking about planes, trains, and automobiles, either." She rubbed her eyes with her fists. "I have this vague memory from the journal--was there a thing written all in Latin and medical terminology? Cause if there was, that one was pretty cool." "I wouldn't know," said Janette quietly. She picked up the glass and sipped again. At that moment, the teapot whistled. Susan picked up her mug and frowned. "Ick. Coffee stuff." She walked over to the sink behind the bar and rinsed it out with a spray of water. "Not bad, for my last war." "Your last?" asked Janette. "Well, yeah." Susan wiped out the cup. "If things go well for me, I won't be able to play any more. Well, maybe someone can feed me stuff on the sly and I can help now and again, but this is the last time I'll coordinate the Ravenettes." Janette nodded. "I see." She set her glass on the top of the bar. "And will run my errands?" "Tara. She'll bitch about it and take her time, but she'll do it." Susan gestured toward the few people still awake in the club. "You've got a good group here. They won't let you down. You'll never even notice I'm gone." "So, you're no longer a 'faithful' Ravenette." "Don't be pulling that on me," said Susan sharply. "You know I will always be the most faithful Ravenette you've ever had and ever will. I've been here since the first war--" "During which you surrendered--" "And since then you've had me write for you, lie for you, kidnap cats for you, pick up your cigarettes, clean the bar . . . not to mention setting me up with an interview by Dorian, letting Nick kidnap and hypnotize me . . . ." Pouring the steaming water into her cup, Susan smiled. "Come to think of it--this war didn't turn out half bad. I didn't get kidnapped--well, the Nat Pack kind of sent me on a 'shogun-blind-date-from-hell'--or hypnotized. LaCroix stole my table, but I got it back again. Dealing with Amy thinking she was you was frustrating as heck, but kinda fun in a warped and twisted way. And my super-soaker aim is damn near deadly." "And you're going to leave, just like that?" Susan solemnly dumped a liberal helping of sugar into her tea. " never even said good-bye. Or where you were going. Not that I'd want to know--" she added quickly, when Janette's eyes narrowed. "'Cause Nick would know that I knew. I don't trust him. All I need is to come home from work some night and find him hanging around my front door, waiting to hoodoo me into telling him where you are because he's sad, frustrated, lonely, or horny as hell and looking for your friendly neck to chew. Nope--with great knowledge comes great responsibility. I don't want to know where you are. But this--" she gestured at the club. "This is good. This is closure. We need closure. That's why you moved on." "And why you're abandoning me?" There was a light tone to Janette's voice. Susan rubbed her eyes again, knowing that she was being teased. "You know I'd never abandon you. No matter how much they say otherwise, I'll still write for you. And no matter where you are, I know you'll get it." "Good." Lifting her glass, Janette rose from her seat and gave Susan a measuring glance. "Go back to sleep. We have to deal with LaCroix this evening." " have to deal with LaCroix this evening," corrected Susan. She picked up her tea, but paused. "You know the journal from last night? There was this picture, I couldn't quite figure out which way it was supposed to go . . . ." Janette hesitated and looked away, then nodded slowly. "Yes, I think I know the one. Imagine . . . if you will . . . that there's flight involved. The two are vampires--" "Yeah. That makes sense." Susan rubbed her forehead with her free hand. "I hadn't thought of that. Thanks." She was halfway back to her table when she stopped, cold, and turned around. Janette was still standing at the bar smiling faintly. Janette had barely glanced at the book. How did she know what was in it? Unless she'd seen it before. And the only way she could have seen it before, was if--? Deliberately, Susan turned and headed back to her table, making sure not to spill hot tea all over the place as she hurried away. This time she was certain she really want to know. ### TAIL-END CHARLIE (Part 1) by Chris Nasipak Time: Noon He woke up. Surprisingly enough, in a bed. Not that waking up in bed was a surprise for him. It was just that this wasn't -his- bed. And he had no idea whatsoever how he'd ended up there. Needless to say, the pounding headache didn't simplify matters any. Several faint-hearted tries later, he was sitting up, and had his glasses on. A hot shower had done wonders to restoring his mind to a state resembling its normal function. He got dressed, having found his clothing from the night before laid out, neat and clean, on the dresser. The first thing that fell under close examination was the phone. It was a typical hotel phone, which confirmed the theory that he was most likely in a hotel room. It was labelled in both French and English, though, which gave him pause for a moment. Eventually, he shrugged, picked it up, and pressed '0'. "Front desk, may I help you?" came a polite, if bored, voice, which then said something in what he presumed to be French, which he presumed to mean something similar. "Yes, what hotel is this, and what city am I in?" Cliched though it was, his jaw fell as the polite, if bored, voice informed him that he was in one of the poshest hotels in Toronto. And that there was a message waiting for him. Fortified by a hearty breakfast, he descended to the lobby and collected it. He asked for the bill, too, dreading it. "No need, monsiuer. M'mselle DuCharme took care of it last night when you checked in." "DuCharme? Did she leave the message as well?" "Oui, monsiuer." The concierge, owner of the polite, if bored, voice, handed over a slip of paper. Chris unfolded it, and read the neat handwriting: "Meet at the Raven." ### HEADING HOME (b) by Cindy Brewer Time: Noon Place: O'Hare airport Cindy walked over to the bank of payphones begining to feel the lack of sleep. "Hi, Mom, it's me."Cindy said turning around and watching the people pass by, I'm back at O'Hare. I should be in Rockford in two hours." "Hope you had a good time. What exactly did you do in Toronto? You're note wasn't very clear." Cindy debated about telling her the truth, wondering is she would ever beleive her,"Well, it all started with someone decorating an abandoned church with cow things....The vampire who lives there wasn't too happy...." "Vampire? Did you say vampire?" ### A FOD FAREWELL (a) by Roni Power Time: Afternoon Place: Somewhere between Nick's apartment and the Happy Souvlaki Deli No one ever loved that river, rain from the highlands. A mirror for the cajun moon A road without a momory of anything that started out as blue. Well you can pour me like a jug of wine Into the gulf of Mexico, honey Until the end of time, but no one ever loved that river the way I love you. Humming along with Jim Byrnes CD in the Happy Souvlaki van's CD player, Roni drove down Bloor St. on her way to give back the van and say good-bye to the FoDs. It had been an interesting two weeks since the Nat-pack attacked Nick's apartment and the Caddy. With the war over and everybody happy (for now), Roni was looking forward to going home to Georgia and her family. //I wonder if the house is still standing//, Roni thought while pulling to a stop in front of the new store front and marveling at how fast Pam and Christine had the Deli fixed. Roni entered the store and walked to the back where Pam, Christine, and Sher were still discussing the events of the war. "Hi Roni!" Colin said looking up from putting trays of food away. "Hey Colin! I parked the van out front and with a full tank of gas. Here are the keys." Tossing the keys to Colin. "Hey Roni!" Everyone said at one time looking up from the table. "Hey Pam, Christine, Sher. I just wanted to thanks everybody for making me feel welcome. This has been a very strange two weeks. The chance sleep on a Vampire's floor with twenty other people, eating more food than I've eaten in a life time, driving a van with Happy Souvlaki written on the side and breaking and entering Nat's apartment looking for a food diary just doesn't come along every so often." Roni said shaking everyone's hand. Handshaking turned into hugs, hugs turned into tears. Pulling herself away, Roni picks up a napkin and wiping her eyes, "I have an announcement to make. I've thought about this ever since Schanke died and I realized how much I missed him." Taking a deep breath. "I want to be a full-blooded FoD." The room grows deathly quite. Colin drops a bowl of pasta salad. Sher's eyes grow wide. Christine's mouth drops open. And Pam jumps up from her chair and runs over to Roni hugging her. "Oh honey it was only a matter of time!" A FEW MINUTES LATER "Anyway," Roni said bashfully, "I have to go now." "Oh *no*," said Pam decisively. "You can't leave yet! We have to give you an official FoD welcome!" "FoD welcome? What's that?" "A feast," Sher explained. "It's not as elaborate as the Knighties' welcoming ceremony." "But it's a lot tastier!" Christine continued. "That's settled then", Pam finished. "Dinner! Tonight!" ### A TOAST by Dianne la Mercenaire and Cousin Deborah Menikoff Time: Late afternoon Place: The Caymans |-] Finding a flight from Toronto to the Caymans with a layover in Virginia on short notice had been a challenge...but hardly the greatest Dianne had faced in the last few weeks. Having arrived at the Grand Hyatt Hotel, she had delayed only long enough to drop her belongings in her room and stop off for a full-body massage at the private gym before walking out on the beach. She was now very, very, very, very *mellow.* Glancing around briefly, she saw a couple of lounge chairs in a perfect spot. Within sight of the bar but not near enough to encourage interruptions. Luckily only one of the two lounge chairs was taken and as she approached, the occupant of the other became clear. "Would you like something?" the woman asked without looking up. "Oh, drink boy!" In response, there appeared by the chairs a very attractive lad in a brightly patterned bathing suit carrying a tray. He stood, pen poised as the woman in the chair continueed. "Dianne, may I present another in a long line of bartenders I've befrended?" Turning to the waiting server, "Mocha Rum Slider and...," with a quick glance at Dianne, "and a Pineapple Twister for the war refugee here." With a thumbs up, and a dazzling grin, he was gone. Settling down in the next chair, Dianne turned to her companion, "So *this* is where you've been hiding out, Deb?" "For two weeks! Oh, I continued to follow the war, but I I felt that it would be more prudeudent to do so from a goodly distance. It's unlikely that Uncle would forgive my part in locking him the cellar so I figured that there was no time like the present to test the old adage *Out of sight; out of mind.*" "I don't think he knows." Dianne murmured as she felt the sun pushing all the tension of the last few weeks away. "Good. Let's keep it that way. You look exhausted." Cousin Deb looked concernedly at her mercenary buddy. "Well thank *you*." Dianne grimaced. "Stop. I didn't say you looked bad, just tired. I was surprised. War normally suits you down to the ground." "This wasn't a war. It was a free-for-all." "Nonsense, you're a merc! Nothing is free. Surely you made profitable use of the video. *Which* reminds me...? she lifted an inquiring brow. Dianne grinned, "Yes, he knows about it." She took a moment to savor the fear on the face of her video-supplying cousin but in the end had pity on her. "But he doesn't know where it came from." Deborah's sigh of relief could have been heard all the way in Toronto. "You should have come down here earlier. Things got way out of hand, way too quickly. I expected you last week." "Well, you know. 'Things to do, computers to hack, vampires to cross- dress and hypnotize, Knighties to annoy...the usual.' " "So who exactly *was* paying for that little cellar bit we pulled anyway?" "Oh a couple of Cousins and a Natpacker...." "Anyone I know?" "Well, there was Cousi...." But just then the drink boy reappeared. And what a handsome drink boy he was....Thus it should surprise no one that Dianne completely lost her train of thought. After a sip or two, she said "Oh, did I tell you? I stopped in Virginia on the way down and left a little present for your Uncle's grand-whatever-daughter..." "_Who_?" "The Grays...." "Oh?" Deborah asked. "Yes, I left them my "contributor's" copy of the music video... you know, the one Celeste made up with all that 'strip poker' footage?" "No!" "Oh yes! Did you know it works equally well as a screensaver, a JPEG, and an endless-loop video?" "You don't say?" "Yup. Still don't know what I'm gonna do with all those Nick photos...especially the 'out-of-drag' ones.... Damn!" "What?" "Should have offered a copy to Janette!" "Well, it's not like she doesn't know." "I suppose...." Minutes later, the Merc and the Cousin were still lounging there, enjoying the last warm rays of the sun as it set into the ocean. "To warring!" "To profit!" "To victory!" "To us!" ### SOMETHING AT STEAK (Part 2) by Allie Time: Late afternoon Place: Nick's Loft The Knighties in the loft gaped at her. Finally, Amy cleared her throat. "You did WHAT to WHOM?!?" Matt stuck his head out of the bathroom. "Did I hear right? Did someone say they staked a vampire?" Allie tried to look innocent. "I *steaked* LaCroix. I sent him a filet mignon, guys, don't worry. I didn't try to pierce him through the heart or anything." Nick, still trapped in the loft by the waning sunlight, looked aghast. "Do you have any *idea* what kind of risk you took? You're new to the Wars, I know, but that doesn't excuse this kind of reckless behavior!" Catherine tried to calm Nick down. "Maybe it's not that bad. Allie, are you sure no one followed you? You didn't leave any clues?" "Well, I thought about delivering the package myself, but at the last minute I chickened out and hired a friendly bike messenger who I met earlier today. Actually, he was quite cute. I met him when he helped me change a flat. That was so nice of him...." "Can we get back to the topic at hand, please?" Nick broke in. "Anyway, no, I don't think I left a good trail for them to follow. I paid for the steak and brandy with cash; the rest of the stuff I brought with me strapped to the back of my bike." Allie looked very pleased with herself. Catherine looked thoughtful. "Well, maybe the Cousins won't realize it was one of us who did it. After all, there's nothing unique about threatening a vampire with being staked." She saw Nick wince in much the same way that mortal men wince when the discussion drifts toward the topic of Lorena Bobbit. "Sorry, Nick. I just don't think the steak was enough of a clue to give us away." Matt furrowed his eyebrows. "Wait a minute. You said brandy. What was the brandy for?" Allie looked around the room as if searching for a quick exit route. "Umm... Well, actually I arranged to have the steak burst into flames. It seemed appropriate." Nick, who had been standing by the fireplace on the other side of the room, was suddenly two inches in front of Allie's face. He spoke very slowly. "You steaked LaCroix with a flaming steak." Gulp. "Yeah, I guess I did." "And you don't think he'll guess that it was a Knightie who did this?" Matt looked smug. "Yeah, you know, most of us have seen Dark Knight, or at least the flashback in Killer Instinct...." He swallowed audibly. "We're in trouble, aren't we?" The sun had set and night had settled over the city. Nick looked up toward the skylight, then flew up to the balcony. "Yes, we are. Let's just hope LaCroix and the Cousins don't have a chance to retaliate before this war is over." And then he was gone. N.B. The bicycle messenger is imaginary and might give away a physical description of Allie and her bike if scared by some gold eyes & fangs. Or if bribed with PowerBars (TM), the official energy bar of the Imaginary Bicyclists of Toronto. ### A FOD FAREWELL (b) by Christine Hawkins Time: Dinner Place: The Happy Souvlaki Deli The four FoDs, (one a former Knightie with FoDly tendancies) and the Stranger in Black sat around a table in the flat above the Happy Souvlaki Deli. Their expressions were oddly melancholy for people who had just eaten a good meal - as was evident by the plates piled up on the centre of the table. The Stranger in Black put her feet up on the table, spurs chinking, and started polishing one of her guns. "Well, y'all must admit, it's been fun." "If disruptive," Pam added, thinking of the repairs to her deli. Sher just propped her elbows on the table and sighed. "I knew I was right becoming a FoD fulltime," Roni said attempting to cheer everybody up. "There's something to be said for a faction which caters good food." Christine spilled some salt on the table and started doodling patterns in the mess. "I suppose I'd better finish packing," she said after a while. "I've got a long flight back home... " She hesitated, then added, "If.. if you see Don again, will you say goodbye from me?" Suddenly the air inside the cafe felt very cold, and though all the windows were shut, a slight breeze moved the curtains. Music from "La Boheme" began pouring from the radio, even though it wasn't switched on. There was a dinstinct odour of men's cologne in the air. The FoDs gave a collective cry of joy. "I think you'll be able to tell him yourself," Pam said grinning. "Don, Don, is that you?" Letters began to form in the salt. "YES." Christine cleared her throat. "I just wan't to say that, um, though, I, er... never got a chance to meet you before... er... that is," she blurted, "it's been a pleasure and a privilege knowing you!" There was a chorus of nods around the table. "GREAT KNOWING YOU TOO." "We all miss you," Sher said. Roni added: "And it's great to have you back, even as a, um, - as you are." "MUST GO NOW." There were cries of disappointment from around the table. "GOODBYE." "Wait!" Pam called as the smell of cologne faded. "You're not going forever? You *are* coming back?" One last word formed in the salt. "MAYBE..." And silence fell in the Deli. THE END. (MAYBE?) ### HOMEWARD BOUND by Judith Freuenthal Place: Airplane Judy sat in the plane waiting for it to take off. Her thoughts wandered back over the last three weeks and to the next several days. She had a few friends and relatives to visit before her return home on Weds. The war and all had been fun, challenging and a bit frustrating here and there, but she was glad to be heading home. She was glad to have gotten in some sightseeing this time. She had picked up gifts for friends and relatives and was glad that she could arrange little detours during her trip home, thankful that there was no direct flight. She was going to visit several friends and relatives that she had been too busy to see, and was pleased that they lived along the way. Also her bags would be much lighter by the time she got home (and had dropped off most of the gifts along the way). Wednesday afternoon Judy returned home with lots of stories that no one would be interested in hearing (not knowing about FK) over the Thanksgiving meal. Her best friend had been the only one who would understand. Then she realized her sister might be interested being another FK fan and smiled. The thought hit her that she would have to come up with some explanation for being away for the last three and a half weeks. She decided to say that it was work related and she was also meeting some friends and sightseeing. It was great to be home again and to sleep in her own bed again. And boy did she sleep well and soundly that night. ### TAIL-END CHARLIE (Part 2) by Chris Nasipak Time: Evening Place: The Raven "The Raven!" The toast echoed through the nigh-empty bar. And then the party began. About two hours later, Chris managed to find some time to chat with Janette. "Ah, yes, I remember now... you dropped in during the last war, didn't you?" she asked him, some minutes later. "Yes.... sorry I couldn't stay longer, but I really hadn't made up my mind about getting involved, and, well... time passed. I'm a bit of a tail-end Charlie, sometimes." "That's all right... but everyone should have a chance to take part." "Oh, this is enough for me. Although I hope I didn't embarass myself - or anyone else - too seriously last night." "You'd have to ask Susan that, my dear..." And with that, she was gone. He sighed, and picked up the mug, with which he was doing his part, emptying the Raven's stocks of soft drinks. *Wish I could stand the booze... they look like they're having a hell of a lot of fun.* That they were. And so was he. He decided to circulate some more, finish getting to know the rest. And decided, since he wouldn't have to pay for the hotel, that he'd find something classy to wear for the next war. Jeans and a tunic weren't quite right, somehow, w, w, for this bunch. *Why am I here?*, he wondered. *You know why,* another part of his brain answered. *Yeah, I suppose you're right.* He downed the root beer, and went in search of someone else to have some fun with for a while. ### FAREWELL TO TORONTO by Virginia Foster, Mercenary Guild Time: Evening Place: Toronto airport, flight to Atlanta. Glancing at her watch, Virginia decided it was time to leave if she intended to make her flight back to Atlanta. Saying good-bye to the Mercs that were still at the Raven, she left and went back to Merc Central to pack her belongings. In the taxi headed to the airport she reflect on the past two weeks. She had arrived in Toronto just in time to attend a party at the Raven, become trapped at the Happy Souvlaki, rescue Dianne and hijack CERK. In addition to all this, she had been able to learn about surveilance. *And* been around several vampires. Now all she had to do was figure out what she would tell her co-workers when she went back to work and was asked how the two week computer conference in Toronto had been. She made it through the airport to her flight and settled into the first class seat. "If I'm going to travel", she had decided, "I'm going to travel in comfort". Just as she was about to doze off, she heard the sounds of someone next to her. "Excuse me, but is this your bag?", an all to familiar, accented voice asked. Virginia opened her eyes, not daring to believe what she saw. Standing next to her seat was a tall man with light, short hair. She looked at his eyes and saw the gray eyes that in a particular movie, had seen 450+ years of life. As she moved the bag so that he could sit down, Virginia sighed happily to herself. This was going to be a most enjoyable flight home. ### A BRIEF DEPARTURE by Cousin Lisa Time: 8pm EST Place: Outside the Raven Lisa had only recently left the safe house where she and several others had stayed after the assault orchestrated by Cousin Julie last week. She knew there was a party going on at The Raven, and she decided to head over to see what was going on. Standing outside The Raven, looking at the crowds waiting to get in, Lisa smiled wistfully. The War had been fun on some levels; she had made some new friends and been involved in some rather interesting adventures. But, the club scene had never been her thing. She knew the others would be there for the last hurrah, but somehow she knew she couldn't seem to force herself go inside. So, wrapping her long, flowing, black coat around her, she turned away from the scene in front of her and headed off down the street and into the dark night. They would all meet again some day. Until that time, she would be watching and waiting. She would be listening for Uncle's voice, like a serenade, winging its way to her on the blackness of the night wind. ### IT'S BEEN A GOOD LITTLE WAR by Jamie Melody Randell Time: Night Place: Toronto bus station Cousin-Jamie-The-Merc sat on the curb outside the Greyhound bus terminal, smoking a cigarette, drinking cinnamon schnapps and thinking about the days that had just passed. //Lessee,// she thought. //I got tattooed -- semipermanently -- I had Sharon arrested, got potholed, salted Sharon again; I became an Honorary FoD by Virtue of Brunch... well, that wasn't a War thing, but it still counts, sorta... I acquired Ralph-The-Sidney-Ringer (safely transported back to New York along with darling Elfy, via a convenient plothole), sold out the Cousins, allied myself briefly with the Ravens, sorta; helped hijack CERK, drove a getaway car (that was fun!), became a Merc; dragged Perry the Vampire Dog into the war (not half as bad as resurrecting the Aruba-rat) had a flashback, a hallucination and a couple of dream sequences...// //Not half bad for a first War,// Jamie thought with satisfaction. Then had the breath choked out of her, as a hand seized her throat and lifted her effortlessly off the sidewalk. "Hello," said a remarkably polite and civil voice. "Hi," Jamie gasped. "What's up? Besides me..." "We have a few things to discuss," LaCroix mentioned, still in that so-courteous voice, while his fingers clenched a bit more tightly around her throat. "Okay," Jamie managed. He set her down; and she shook off the effects of oxygen deprivation and struggled not to fall to her knees. "You've betrayed me," LaCroix began, as if he were making a grocery list, or perhaps discussing the weather. "You've damaged my property and compromised my dignity. Can you name one reason why I shouldn't kill you now?" Having lost her last cigarette when he'd grabbed her, Jamie lit another; she felt a sudden urge for a nicotine rush. "I'd enjoy it too much," she told him. "I mean, come on, what a helluva way to die." Her eyes sparkled. "My friend Morgan always usedta say, 'Life oughta be interesting'. I figure, death should be, too." "Ah," LaCroix commented. "And now would be the moment in which you beg me for immortal life..." The Cousin-Merc shrugged. "You'll do what you want," she said. "If it amuses you to bring me over and toy with me for a couple centuries, you will. If it pleases you to kill me, you will. Begging won't help. Neither will apologizing." "It would be interesting to watch you attempt a sincere apology," he remarked. "I wouldn't try. See... I do what I want, too. What I think is best. Just the same way you would've. You don't like it, but you understand." Jamie's eyes narrowed. "You're not even that mad at me," she said, with certainty. "There are others who've damaged you far more severely than I have, and with far less reason. You're just here to make a point, and we both know it. So... consider the point made, and let's be done with it." LaCroix's eyes narrowed right back at her. "You're a mind-reader, now?" "I'm a writer. I have to be able to get into your head. And I do, and in some strange way you like it; and that's the *real* reason you won't hurt me." A faint smile appeared on Jamie's face. "Why you won't hurt any of us. We help create the stories, and we sit around and enjoy 'em -- and whatever would you do without an audience?" He stared at her for a moment, caught between fury and laughter; finally, the humor of the situation won out. "You do amuse me," he admitted finally, in a moment of rare candor -- but then, she was right; the Writers knew him, knew them all. Every Writer heard a different Voice, saw a different vision: but all of them had that insight, and that made all the difference between them being ordinary useless mortals and integral parts of their shared world. In that way, they were all his 'old friends' -- whether he liked it or not. She saw the smile in his eyes that would never be permitted to touch his lips, and she knew that she'd won. "'Sides, you never know; you might need a Merc someday. Another Merc," she corrected herself. "I might at that. However," and his hand settled on her shoulder, not at all a comforting grip, "we still have a matter to discussuss." Jamie had never been much for subtlety, but that was one reference she caught effortlessly. "I'm keeping it," she said. "It's on my FTP site, and if I don't enter a special password every so often, it goes public." LaCroix looked bored. "I have access to my own computer specialists." "There'll still be copies out before you can stop it, and you KNOW how fast copies of things get spread around in this bunch. That's a cute birthmark you've got, by the way." The hand on her shoulder tightened. "You expect me to sit still for extortion?" "Not extortion," Jamie corrected. "Insurance. Big difference." She squirmed under the restraining hand. "You're not going to hurt me. Can I go now?" His grip tightened even more; then, with a sigh, he let her go. "At least it's over," was his parting line, delivered in a tone very near a snarl. "The nightmare is over..." and then he was gone. And Jamie smiled. "Until next time," she said to the empty street. "Until next time." She took a long drag of her cigaretrette, flicked it into the ro road and headed into the terminal. There were a few last-minute details she had to accomplish... ### FLIGHTS EXPECTED by Selma McCrory Time: Night Place: Airport, in the air She was waiting. The flight was a little late, which did not bother someone whose sleeping schedule had gone wonky. She looked at her book, kind of half-reading it, half-watching the rest of the passengers. It was her normal routine when waiting for any kind of transportation, and it worked really well. Someone sat down in the seat next to her. She instinctively looked up, automatically scanning the person beside her to see if they were any threat, or if she had to move something. A startled gasp arose from her as she registered who it was. "I didn't expect to find *you* here," she hissed at the male beside her. "What can I say? I didn't expect to see you here, either. I was going to fly to Sacramento to see you! It was pure coincidence that we took the same flight." "Riiight." "Besides, this way we can get over any disputes on the way, and I can stop being hit over the head." "Oh, yeah." They called the flight. Since the seats were unreserved, Vince and Selma ended up next to each other. Vince had been running around, "sampling" the local nightlife. Selma told him that she hoped he'd found a child more willing than her. He told her he hadn't, but he understood her better now. He would wait until she was ready. "Oh, and one more thing," he said. "No more wars. Please." Selma shrugged. Selma told him about the acrillic, the superglue, and the VCR. She'd gotten back with Wendy before the party, and the two had made up. In fact, Wendy had lent her some Tomorrow People tapes and an address to return them to. And she'd attempted to set the list back to normal, except for the fact that it was out-of-order while Mark tried to fix the site. "Oh, well." "And you're going to post this story you've got?" "Well, I posted it to the Highlander list, but I certainly didn't want to post it to the TP list while it was sending ten copies of everything. So, when Tardis comes back up, I'll post the story on there." He sighed. And off they rode, into the sunset. ### THE LONG JOURNEY HOME (a) by Laura Ruggiero Time: 11pm CST Place: Chicago, Union Station *Well, I'm back in Illinois at least,* Laura thought. *Unfortunately, the last train left hours ago and the next train for Carbondale doesn't leave until 4 pm tomarrow. I guess I'm stuck here for the night. Oh Joy. * *It's a pity that location list hasn't hit the List yet. I could have stayed with someone. I should have asked at that party Saturday night, or I would have if I remembered to check the train schedule before this morning.* A somewhat evil grin apprears on her face and she says, "I wonder if there are any vampires in Chicago?" Most of the people passing by looked at her oddly, and moved away quickly. Laura didn't notice. And then the grin fades. *How would I find any that wouldn't just make a quick meal of me? *<> Laura's sense of self preservation kicks in as she remembers she is alone for the first time in weeks, and that, in addition to vampires, there are far more mundane dangers to a woman wondering around Chicago alone, especially at night. *I guess I'll just stay here. There's a lot of out of the way places to sit where no one will notice me. The War was worth having to stay here all night. It may have been my first war, but I think I did okay. I even got to do that incredible Indian dance I learned awhile ago. I survived 2 parties at the Raven. And I got to track a Vampire Hunter, even if we did lose her. * *I will have to make a effort to get to a Con. sometime soon, I want to see all the people I met during this war in "peace-time."* ---- <> *I am soooo tired, but I can't let myself fall asleep, not here. I'll just close my eyes for a few minutes.* zzzzzzz "Hello, little one. What are you doing here?" "What? Huh?, " Laura says (Always very quick on the uptake when first awoken) *Oh s**t, I fell alseep and now there's some guy...*(her brain starts to wake up too) She sees a very good looking neatly dressed tall man (but than almost everyone is tall to someone who is barley 5 feet tall) with his long dark hair pulled back into a ponytail, and dark brown eyes. "What do you want?" Laura says as she reaches for her pocket knife. The man, moving quicker than humanly possible, grabs Laura's arms, showing a glimpse of his fangs as he does so. " So you are looking for vampires in Chicago? What is your interest.?" *You would think I would have learned to watch what I said during the war. What the heck am I going to do? Who knows I'm here? Where's that vial of holy water? * the thoughts raced through Laura's mind. "Well, I'm coming back from this war in Toronto and there were a lot of vampires there and my train doesn't live till tomarrow and I didn't want to go back to my mundane life just yet and..." Laura would have continued but she ran out of breath. As she paused the vampire asked, "What war, which vampires, what do you know about the community?" *Oh oh I hope he isn't an Enforcer. Why couldn't I have lied? Why does my common sense leave me when I most need it? Oh well, I was never very good at lieing anyway. * " I swear I am not a threat to your community. Ah, this could take awhile." "I have all the time in the world, go ahead" "Well," Laura began, "it all started with rumors of a war on the FORKNI-L list, and then I received some cards that continually played Jeopardy...." The explanation took awhile, and Laura had to stop several times to explain things in further detail, but finally she finished. "So you see, I'm a threat to your community. This was just a brief diversion into fantasy. I know better than to try to talk to anyone not on the list about everything. Heck, even if I tried to tell my friends the truth, they wouldn't believe me. I've just been telling them I've been involved in a massive role-playing game. they can understand." Laura concludes, "so you'll just let me go right?" "Not exactly..." The vampire's eyes begin to glow. "You will do exactly as I say..." ### I DREAMED...OH, NEVER MIND... by Jamie Melody Randell Jamie awoke with a start. //I dreamed...// //...or did I dream?// //...or did I hallucinate?// //Or was it real?// Elfy, snuzzled warmly beside Jamie's head, looked up, blinked and murbled at her. "Whatever," Jamie murmured, and went back to sleep. Her last thought, as she drifted off, was, //Good thing vanilla extract removes tar and feathers as well as it removes tattooes.// ### ***Sunday, November 19, 1995*** OVERDRAFT AT THE DELI by Pamela Rush Time: Early morning Place: Happy Souvlaki Deli in Toronto Pamela sipped her second espresso slowly and considered whether a cinnamon roll or a cheese crown would be the better chaser for the blueberry blintz she had already eaten. Things were finally beginning to quieten down; factions had come to terms or at least were showing a reasonable willingness to negotiate. The FoDs had verified existence-after-death and communciated with their beloved Donny; former Knightie Roni Power had come to her senses and pledged herself formally to FoD-dom. The little matter of Natpacker Sharon Himmanen's food diary was a bit embarrassing once Jill had explained the whole situation, but Pam hoped to bring that to a satisfactory conclusion eventually. Christine, with a long flight ahead of her, and Roni, very anxious to get home to her family, had both departed on very early flights that morning. Colin had decided that NASA needed him more than the Deli altho the pay was not as good and gone home; even Sher had been away from other responsibilities too long and had left for the Bluegrass State before Pam finished closing up the Deli for the season. *And* Cousin/Merc Jamie Melody had become an Honorary FoD by Virtue of the Exemplary Brunch, which didn't happen in every little ol' war that came along. Jeeze, thought Pamela, that made *two* Cousin/FoDs, of a sort. Strange coincidence or could there be some esoteric primal connection? Cousin/Merc/FoD Jamie and Cousin/FoD James...? Creepy. She wasn't certain she could stand *another* one in close proximity. It had been with mingled regret and relief that they had waved fond farewell to Cousin/FoD James Kythe after the FoD feast last night; a Cousin/FoD would always be a problematic houseguest: neat, clean and invariably on time for meals, naturally, but out partying with *Cousins* at who-knew-what-sort of unholy and orgiastic festivities all night, every night. At any rate, the remaining FoDs, with many cries of "Hasta l'huevos rancheros" and "Vaya con chili rellenos" and "Garcias, garcias!" had waved goodbye to the Arizona salsa-slinger as the shadowy figure disappeared rapidly into the cold Canadian sunset on the big Buell Thunderbolt yesterday evening, saddlebags emptied of a variety of southwestern salsas and restocked with Kentucky Chocolate Bourbon Cremes. The clarion call of the Deli's phone brought Pamela's thoughts instantly back to the present-- "Good morning, Happy Souvlaki Deli." "Uh.... I was calling for a .... Ms. Pamela Rush." "Yes, I'm Pamela Rush. What is it?" "Ms. Rush, according to our records, your FoD Express Gold card was used to rent a Buell Thunderbolt motorycle at the Airport Wheels-R-Us on the evening of Sunday, Nov. 5th. Is that correct?" "Hhhmm, yes, that *is* correct, but, you see, the rental was actually for a friend--" Pamela had agreed readily to pick up the expenses as Cousin/ FoD James Kythe had come to Toronto at her behest. "I'm afraid, Ms. Rush, that that doesn't really make any difference. The point is that your card was used with your consent to rent this vehicle and as surety against any uninsured damage or legal liability involving the vehicle." "Uh....yes...." Although frightfully tempted to claim that her FoD Express had been stolen, Pamela fortified herself with strong reminders of what Donny would do in such circumstances -- upon which she reached for *both* the cinammon roll *and* the cheese crown -- and bravely admitted to the truth. What in the world had the cursed Cousin/FoD in Black managed to do to that damnable machine between here and the Airport? "It seems that the renter, er....J. K. Walkswithwind...?" "Yes, that's right," replied Pam relunctantly. "Well, the renter has not yet returned the vehicle and it's now over twelve hours overdue." "What?!" squeaked Pamela, her voice rising like warm yeast only faster. "The renter has not--" "Ok, ok! I heard! And this means...exactly what? What am I liable...?" "Well, you're liable for additional rental and mileage charges as well as a penalty fee for late returns, providing, of course, that it *is* returned. Do you have knowledge of the present whereabouts and condition of the rented vehicle, ma'am?" "A-a-a-h-h.... Look, I'm sure this is just an oversight or an unforseen delay and I am going to find out what's happened..." her voice trailed off weakly. "Uh...I'll, er.... I'll get back to you. Soon. Really." "We'd appreciate it if you would arrange to have the vehicle returned by noon today, ma'am." "Oh, yes. I'll, uh...do my best, truly." Well, at least it was only a lie of omission. Pamela dropped the phone like day-old-white-bread and stared at the wall with eyeballs like gooseberries in congealing custard sauce for a full minute. Morally, she was quite, quite certain that the bike *and* the Cousin/FoD were by now in South Dakota and heading southwest. Oh, well. Looked as though she would be going to see Donny's Arizona a lot sooner that she had planned. And while she was out there, she could always stock up on salsa.... ### THE LONG JOURNEY HOME (b) by Laura Ruggiero Time: 6:30am CST Place: Chicago, Union Station Laura awakes with a start. *Where am I? Oh, that's right. Chicago. Union Station. Let's see, it's (looking at her watch) 6:30 am. That was one vivid dream...or was it?* A look of panic crosses her face and she makes a dash for the nearest bathroom, with her hands at her neck, getting yet more stares from those she passed. *No bite marks and I remember the war well enough. It must have been a dream. A dream caused by too little sleep, too many antihistamines, too much alcohol, and too much chaos and stress these last few weeks. Maybe I should have kept that card Dawn gave me.* The rest of the day passed quickly enough, and soon it was time to board the train, sunset followed shortly thereafter. Laura did feel a bit nervous at the waining light. *What if last night wasn't a dream?* She looks very worried for a few minutes, but then comes to a decision. *Well, I seem to be intact, no harm done. I feel normal, if very tired. I guess I can't let this rule my life. It MUST have been a dream.* So thinking Laura fell asleep. (Dramamine is great for making the time pass on long trips, you just sleep the whole way.) ### RESURRECTION by Julie Randolph Time: Morning Place: Julie's grave Deep within the ground, where the earth is soft and fertile, a soft sound was heard. Quietly at first, and then growing louder until the sound pounded through the cemetary like a freight train. A hand shot up through the dirt, fingers clawed at the sides of the grave, pulling a sodden and wet body from amongst the flowers. Slowly, as bits of dirt and dandelions fell onto the ground, she moved through the cemetary and hailed a cab. Julie peered around herself, where in God's name was she? Hang on...Toronto, the slime, the cow patties, she remembered. Cousin Julie smiled, it wouldn't be a war unless someone came back from the dead. Now, she just needed a bath. ### STRANGER IN A BATTLEZONE (Part 7a) by Mildred Cady Time: Morning Place: Merc Central {It's over! I survived my first war!!!!} Mildred was relieved that it was over, done, finito. {I get to go home!} Bags packed, she was waiting for the taxi that would bring her to the airport. Her goodbyes were already said, and there was an almost tearful seperation from the Merc Central computers. {There's only one thing..... I wish I could have personally MET the vampires that we're all here because. Not just caught a glimpse of Nick and Jannette at the auction. But maybe next war.....} ### MESSAGE TO THE LIST by Sandra Gray Time: 11:45am EST Sandra had been scanning email for hours when she came across a post to forkni-l. Someone was advertising audio filksongs from the war? And what was that at the end? *Music videos!* After the shock wore off, Sandra began to fume. Going to mail, she composed and sent the following post to forkni-l, fkspoilr, and fkfic-l, and after a certain moment's thought, to the account of a certain "Rosebud": _____________________________________________________________________ This is to advise listmembers that any audio or video tape taken of me during the recently concluded War that may be used in audio "filksongs" or *music videos* recently advertised as being for sale or future purchase on forkni-l was obtained without my knowledge or consent. Further, anyone attempting to sell such audio or video tapes involving me will be pursued for *invasion of privacy*. --Sandra Gray, forever Knightie _____________________________________________________________________ After a few more minutes, Sandra thought of another letter to post to forkni-l, fkspoilr, and fkfic-l: _____________________________________________________________________ Should anyone be in possession of filksongs or other audio or video tape of me from the recently concluded War, I hope you *enjoy* it and will feel as *charitable* about the matter should you find yourself in a similar situation in the future. --Sandra Gray, forever Knightie _____________________________________________________________________ ### HOME AGAIN by Kimberley Low Place: Toronto to Brandon I woke up in Nat's apartment. *God only knows how we got back here. I guess I should think about getting home. And for that matter getting the cats home. The emergency account is going to take a beating today.* I got up and started packing. There was one thing missing. Halloween. Angus was fine and normal. At least normal for Angus. "So Angus, where's Halloween?" "Mew-ow." "You're helpful." Thirty minutes of frantic searching later I decided to call home. "Hi, Dad! How's everything there?" "Oh, fine, everyone's doing well." "Dad, you're lying. Your just about as bad at it as I am. It's one of those genetic things." "Well, Halloween had been gone for about a week but he showed up this morning and he looked like he had been taken care of." "So he's home?" "Yeah, he gave your mother quite a fright but everything's fine now. So how's school?" I wasn't kidding about my problems with lying, especially to my parents. "Oh... About as well as can be expected." Don't I remember explaining equivocation to my sister when she was taking MacBeth? "Have you gotten any tests back lately?" "I can honestly say that I haven't. I really have to go now. I just called because I wasn't sure if I'd get another chance today." "OK. Take care." "Bye, give my love to Mom and Trace." So Halloween was home. I had no idea how he got there but I wasn't going to try and figure it out. I had had quite enough weirdness to last me for the longest time. Or at least until the next war. ### SO LONG, FAREWELL...UNTIL... by Leslie Remencus Time: Noon Place: Nat's Apartment "I never want to hear another song from the Sound of Music as long as I live," complained Leslie. "In fact, I'm burning the soundtrack when I get home. Besides, I don't want to ever have to yodel again." Leslie was packing for the drive home. She wasn't sure if Sharon was up for the drive home with her. Heck, she wasn't sure she was up for it. In the last two weeks, Leslie had been stalked, brought before LaCroix, drugged, and cornered by one two many angry cousins. "I can't believe Laura finagled another convention out of me, not that it will be a *chore* to go. Besides she'd get a chance to see Sheila and Sarah, and Sharon if she promised not to sing or halucinate," Leslie smiled to herself. "And poor Jill, she has to write a LaCroix love story." Now it was time for last minute good byes. It *had* been a nice little war. ### DON'T KNOW HOW TO SAY GOODBYE by Jennie Hayes (and the Natpack) Time: Noon Place: Natalie's apartment Natalie Lambert looked up the stairs of her apartment building, not quite managing the surprise one might otherwise expect. Natpackers perched everywhere on the stairs, chatting animatedly. "I thought you all intended to leave over three hours ago," Nat said with a smile. "So what is all this?" "Well, we got out of your apartment about an hour and a half ago...and the cars are all packed!" Amy said brightly. "Betsy and Amparo left in a limo the other night, and we got a rental car to replace Di's." "And GT rented a car to take herself, Elaine, Selma and Kim where they needed to go when the time came. They'd planned to spend the day in the city." Leslie added. "Yeah, and then we started talking. I'd say this isn't quite as bad as the lengthy conversation we had in the bathroom at the end of MediaWest. It's this problem we have with saying goodbye and going home," Jennie explained. "We never want it to end." "Well, this time it was a good thing you didn't head straight out. Sharon, could I see your bag first?" Nat replied. "Why? What are you gonna do?" Sharon said suspiciously, although she handed the bag to Natalie as she said it. Nat brought out a notebook. "I stuck this in here before the party last week. You are probably going to want your lab notebook. I've got that stashed inside. I think. Unless you moved it while you were packing." "No, we were very careful not to move your stuff around this time," Valerie informed her with a chuckle. "We didn't want to cause any more panic." "Well, hang on and I'll go fetch it." Natalie looked around her apartment in wonder when she opened the door. You wouldn't know the 'pack and their belongings had been spread out through all her rooms from the way it looked now. It was depressingly empty, in fact. She headed into the bedroom to the closet, and opened it. Something looked a bit strange, but she felt up on the shelf and came out with a notebook almost identical to the one she'd pulled out of Sharon's bag, promising herself to come back and check it later. She headed back out to the stairs. "Here ya go. Everything should be in there." Sharon flipped through the notebook briefly before stowing it in her bag. "Thanks." "Since you're home, do you have time to go to dinner? It doesn't really make sense for us to hit the road if we're gonna have to stop an hour later. We might as well eat first," Jennie suggested hopefully. "And it's an excuse to stay and visit just a bit longer," GT said enthusiastically. "Well, I suppose we could. It will be nice not to have to spend the whole time looking over my shoulder for those hunters. I understand most of them wound up under psychiatric observation. Common consensus was that the wounds on their necks had been self inflicted years ago so they would have realistic scars, and that combined with their attack on the whole crowd at the auction was enough to convince quite a few people that they were completely 'round the bend." Natalie informed them with a wry smile. "Let's go." ---***--- "So, did your place look OK to you? We tried to get it as clean as possible," Leslie asked. "Oh, it's fine!" Nat answered. "I wouldn't have thought you could get it that clean ever again!" She glanced at Jennie, GT and Amy suspiciously. Was it her imagination, or had the three of them relaxed visibly when she said that? "Of course, I only got the brief glimpse of it." Nope, no reaction to that. "Hopefully we got everything that belonged to you back," Kim put in, "What with the number of people who were in and out of there when we were gone, it was hard to tell." "Well, I checked last night, and the only thing still missing that *I* noticed is something I'll hardly miss," Natalie shrugged. "What was that?" "Oh, it was just one of those...fanzines?...you all kept telling me about," Natalie replied. "Except that this one was appalling. It purported to be my diary, but they got *all* kinds of things wrong in it. It arrived in the mail a couple of months ago. The scariest thing is, it was *handwritten*, of all things. Near as I can tell, they had written it out, made photocopies of it, and sent me the original. I suppose I should be thankful that they thought so much of me to send it along, but I couldn't look Nick in the eyes for weeks after that. You should have *seen* what they wrote me thinking." "Like what did they write in it?" Amy inquired. "Well, they had a lot of stuff like you might see in a high school girl's notes, really silly stuff. The other things, well, suffice it to say that if I felt that childishly infatuated with Nick and *thought* that little, I'd have asked him to bring me across *years* ago. It was weird, seeing thoughts that weren't mine attributed to me like that. I wasn't sure what to do with it; I was planning to burn it when it was cold enough for a real fire in the fireplace. Should've just made a bonfire anyhow. Still, at least I don't have to worry about having to take care of that little detail anymore. I hope whoever has it now enjoys it," Nat winced. Amy made a little sympathy sign at her, but just then their food arrived and they turned to other topics of conversation. ### FAREWELL, SO LONG, AMEN by Perri Smith w/ contributions from most of the Knighties - guess who wrote what. Time: Afternoon Place: Nick's loft It was finally over. No one had the nerve to aask Nick what he'd done with the almanac and he wasn't volunteering anything. but there was a suspicious odor of smoke int he bathroom one morning... Still it was time to go back to reality. Nick watched his Knighties pack, enjoying the squabbling over what hair dryer belonged to whom and the inevitable groaning over mysteriously multipling possessions that would no longer fit into suitcases. A few people were wandering around the kitchen, makign sure he had food very visibly stored in the fridge and cabinets. At least they had stopped hovering over him since the last of the holy water burns had disappeared. Airport shuttles started arriving at noon - he had offered to drive them in, but the flights were leaving at weird times all day, and the Knighties ahd elected to say their good-byes at the loft. ** "I made this for you," Karen said. "Just a little soemthing to remember us by." "There's not much danger of my forgetting," Nick said, glancing around at the mostly cleaned-up, but still disarrayed loft. He looked skeptically at the package, which looked and felt suspiciously like a brick. "Open it," Karen prompted. It WAS a brick, but Karen had embroidered a cover for it, using the names of all the Knighties who had participated in this War, along with tiny designs illustrating some of their escapades. "I had to work with the raw materials at hand, and there certainly were enough bricks around here early on." Karen commented. "Thank you. I'm not sure exactly what it is....but thank you." "It's a doorstop, or a book end. It's (you'll pardon the expression) brick-a-brac." "What's this?" Nick had noticed a small, brownish stain that had been worked into the design. "Oh, I pricked my finger. I left it in; I thought it was... appropriate." Nick placed the brick carefully on a bookshelf. "Well, Nick, if you're ever in Massachusetts...." Karen trailed off. One last time, Nick pushed that one strand of hair that always drove her crazy out of her eyes. "If I'm ever in Massachusetts..." And he turned to the next Knightie waiting to say goodbye. *** "Nick, you *will* be ecstatically happy to see us next time, won't you?" Scottie's question wasn't really a question. Nick looked like he was trying to think up a good answer that wouldn't offend one of his oldest followers. "You *will* welcome us with open arms, won't you?" she persisted. "And give us the run of your place again, and let us spend sinfully large amounts of your money? Tell us you will." Nick took a long look around the room at the ragtag group who'd risked a great deal for him, grinned one of those grins, and said, "Of course. Any time." "That is the *correct* answer, Nick," she said, laughing. "If we can ever help you again, just let us know. We're ready, willing, and able. Well, most of us, anyway. Okay?" He smiled again, and whispered, "Deal." *** "Thanks, Nick. I had fun. I'll see you next time," Judy said with grin. "By the way don't give up on Nat, yourself or your mortality. It *will* happen. You have to work as hard as Nat does for it. There are *no* miracle cures." "Thanks, Judy," he said with a hug. "I'll try." ** "Be good, Nick, and take care of yourself." *** "Remember, food goes in the fridge, whether you eat it or not." ** "I'm glad the Caddie isn't pink anymore. And thanks for the fish." *** "We love you, Nick." *** Then they were gone. Only Perri, Amy D., Paula and Catherine had stayed - something about a hockey game. The loft was strangely silent; they sat on the couch, trying not to look at each other. Finally, Perri sighed. "Watch the slow leaks at the corners of your eyes, Nick," she advised. "It's bad form." He laughed. "I'll remember that. You guys hungry?" "Of course," Catherine said. "Good." He smiled and stood up. "Then may I escort you ladies to dinner?" They exchanged delighted grins. "You may indeed," Paula said. He escorted them to the elvator, and turned to look into the empty loft, before turning off the light. ### A FINAL GOODBYE by Dawn Steele Time: Afternoon Place: An airplane heading East Dawn squirmed in her uncomfortable "economy" sized seat, and reminded herself talk to talk to herself for too long. // I'm sure the people reading this wrap-up post don't want a long multi-posted affair. // She sighed, and (with a feeling of dread) opened up her calendar book. Dawn begin listing all the things she'd missed in school by participating in the war. The list went on and on. Midterms, quizzes, assignments and multiple papers. Dawn looked at the seemingly endless list with dread. How would she ever get her life back on track again? She slammed her calendar book closed. //That's it! The war's been fun, but I am going to help organize a faction, and participate in a war while school is going on.// Dawn leaned back into her seat, closed her eyes... and promptly fell asleep. ### LEAVING THE FRAY by Lorelei Feldman Place: Lorelei's room Lorelei groaned, stretching her neck as she tried to crumple everything back into the bags she'd brought with her. *Did I really bring all this? I don't think I've seen half of it since I unpacked.* The last few days had all been a bit of a blur; there was much to think about, but at the moment, her brain didn't seem to want to function. *Hope I can get some sleep on the plane this time.* Everything nearly done, she ran across a note she'd written herself days ago, so as not to forget one very important thing... Despite her tiredness, she grinned. A phone call later, and she'd arranged for the cross-continental delivery of certain...items to Cousin Priscilla. *Never give someone a key to your apartment in the middle of a War. Bad idea, 'Red Queen'!* ***************** Some time later, she finally arrived back home in Berkeley. Lugging all her bags up the stairs, she dumped them on the floor of her apartment and activated her answering machine, listening to the messages. One was from the moving company. She grinned. Well, Priscilla *had* needed some furniture... Of course, with what she'd had delivered, Priscilla might rather have had none at all. Some of it was left over from the tacky Raven decor, some of it had apparently been so tacky they hadn't dared use it, and some of it, from the recesses of the basement, was probably left over from 25 years ago. Orange paper cylindrical lamps, a puke-green sectional sofa, gold-chrome and formica tables... And it got worse. She giggled, picturing the Cousin's face when she got home. *I wonder how fast she can dial up someone to take it all out? That is, assuming she doesn't like 'earth tones'.* Still giggling, she started unpacking, and some pieces she was working on for her thesis occurred to her: "Bone est la pes anpres la guerre, Plus bele et miaudre an est la terre. Mult sunt bones les gaberies Et bones sunt les drueries. Pur amistiez et pur amies Funt chevalier chevaleries." "For grith maketh godne mon gode workes wurchen for alle monnen bith tha bet that long bith tha murgre." Now was the time to get to it, she supposed. ### SO LONG, FAREWELL, CIAO... by Jill Kirby and the Natpack Time: Midafternoon Place: Rental car It was a very quiet, tired group of Natpackers who headed west from Toronto. They'd said their good-byes to the rest of the Pack, and to Natalie. Time to go home. This time, they were in a rental car (Amy wasn't looking forward to explaining to Di Sidduth what had happened to vehicle). Since the rental car was... courtesy of the last bit of DeBrabant money they still had hanging around, they had gone all out. These three Natpackers were going home in a Lincoln, which was one of the few cars that actually had plenty of room for all their stuff. "I don't want to go back to work," said Jennie mournfully. She took a long drink of her Coke and stared out the window. In the back seat, Amy half-opened one eye-- she'd been napping, but she figured it was time she joined the world. "It was a very good War," she said, startling Jennie so much she spilled her pop (Jennie wasn't used to seeing Amy wake up of her own volition). "No more getting followed by those weirdos-- guess we took care of them." "Mmm hmm," said Jennie with satisfaction. "We took care of all of things." Jill hadn't said a single word since they left the city, which Jennie knew wasn't normal. "What's up, Jill?" Jill didn't look at her. "I'm just glad it's over." "Didn't you have fun?" "Of course!" Jill passed an incredibly slow-moving Geo-- God, she loved gas-guzzling horsepower. "It's always great to hang out with y'all, and I finally got to meet Natalie, and see lots of other friends. It's just... some of the things that happened..." "That's War," said Amy practically. "Hey, I thought I was Janette, and I survived." "Yeah, but does everyone know about obsession with LaCroix's butt? Do now have to write a story about LaCroix falling in love with a mortal?" "I don't an obsession with LaCroix's posterior," said Amy gently. Jill ignored her. "At least you didn't sing 'Phantom' with a handkerchief over your face," Jennie reminded her. "Or get covered with salt, or have your caffeine supply cut off. And Betsy..." "We should send her some Preference by L'Oreal, because she's it," said Amy with a smile. The three thought about the various trials and tribulations they'd suffered, as well as those they'd inflicted on others. After a minute, Amy started to giggle, followed by Jennie, then by Jill. In a moment they were all laughing hysterically. When they'd all calmed down, Jill wiped the tears away from her eyes. "What the hell. It was fun-- I can't wait for War Six." Amy moaned, and Jennie shot Jill a look of death. "Can we wait a while before we start talking about one of these?" Jill nodded meekly. "I need a Diet Coke," she declared after a few minutes of silence. "I finished the last one at least five minutes ago." Amy peered ahead of them. "Yeah. I'm hungry. Let's stop at that Mickey D's up there." "Just so long as you don't get a fish sandwich," muttered Jennie darkly. ### ORANGE YOU GLAD WE VISITED? by Jennie Hayes and the NatPack Time: Midafternoon Place: Natalie's apartment Natalie closed the door to her apartment quietly, then sagged against it. It was strange, but now that the 'Natpack', as they called themselves, had left, she felt strangely drained. It was as if all the exhaustion she hadn't felt while everyone was here had all come crashing down on her at once. They'd just dropped her off out front, smothered her with hugs and sad goodbyes (that inability to say goodbye was contagious!) and driven off, waving through the windows until they were out of sight. Remembering that she had almost noticed something in her bedroom before they'd gone to lunch, she went to check that out. There it was, sure enough, a Natmare sat squarely in the middle of her bed. Smiling, she walked over and picked it up, hugging it to herself as she went to look in the closet, which had also looked somehow strange earlier. It took several minutes of staring before the change had become clear, and when it did, she simply sat there shaking her head with a half-grin on her face for several moments. They'd actually done it, and she knew who'd instigated it. Knew without a doubt. She began to sift through the clothing on the racks, looking carefully at several articles of clothing as the grin became wider by the second. She couldn't *believe* they had done it, but there it was. Every single stitch of orange had been replaced with a nearly identical piece of clothing in another color. Red, turquoise, deep cobalt blue, all of the colors *Jennie* had said would look better on her were represented in the new clothing. She thought she noted a touch that must have been GT's in some of the choices, too. Everything went well with the clothes she already had, but none of it was orange. She hugged the natmare even closer to her as she flopped onto her bed, laughing so hard she almost couldn't breathe. ### HOME AGAIN, HOME AGAIN by Sharon Scott Place: Scottie's home Bricks, bricks everywhere. Piles of them in the front yard, back yard, side yard, on the wraparound porch, under every window. Little did the Natpackers know, but I'd been collecting bricks for years. Scouting out buildings and old houses being torn down, driving around looking for old homesites that might have bricks laying about. When you're poor, from having bought a house, feeding four pets, and going to FK cons in far-flung parts of the Northern Hemisphere, you have to improvise when it comes to sidewalks, flowerbed borders, and patios. So the bricks would be recycled into parts of the landscape, and I might even have enough left over to build that fireplace I've been wanting for the longest time. The Natpackers had made me fairly happy. Of course, one of the Natpackers wouldn't be at all happy when she got back to New York and found that all the beer in the United States and Canada had been replaced with Dr. Pepper, or that all her primates had been taught to say "We want Nick!" in sign language, but fair was fair. The only problem now was the package that had been waiting in the mailbox while I'd been in Toronto. Might as well open it--any live fr*gs would be dead by now, from lack of food, water, and air. Whoa! A real live "Creature of the Knight" article, and a lovely card sporting gorgeous color prints of Nicolah, from Cousin-Merc Jamie. But wait, there was more. A *green* box. Containing Eau de Pamplemousse. And of course, in the very bottom of the package, one of those *things*. At least this one wasn't green. Orange. Nat's favorite color. And it was signed--Cousin Sheila, Sarah Matthews, Raven Cynthia, Laurie F., Cousine Celeste, S. Garrett, Sharon H., and Cousin Jamie. Must have been mailed *before* the war. :-) No matter how immured I think I've become to the things, they still have the power to make me cringe. Oh, well, I'll add it to the collection, and tell myself they were thinking about me, even if it was to send me items of torture. :-) So the fun's over, and it's back to work tomorrow morning. But I need to have a *long* talk with Perri about Knighties who think Nick needs to be hit in the head with 2x4s on a regular basis, and then I've got to try to track Deborah down about those out-of-drag photos of Nick ... ### JAMIE'S FINAL WRAP-UP POST by Jamie Melody Randell Place: Greyhound station She was at the Greyhound station. She'd dealt with LaCroix. She'd rid her mind of inconvenient dream sequences. It was all over. Well, almost. Dianne had invited her to join the after-War relaxation session... and the Cayman Islands sounded wonderful. Beaches. Surf. Sun. Especially the sun. Sun = no vampires... and Jamie had had quite enough of vampires. For the time being, anyhow. Her back itched... who would have thought that she'd be just as allergic to vanilla extract as she'd been to the semipermanent dye inscription that had started this whole thing? Ah, well. Time to let byegones be byegones. At least, until the next War. And speaking of future Wars... She strolled over to the bank of payphones. Called home, inquired about her cat (cats, now that she'd gained custody of "Ralph The Sidney Ringer", apparently until the NEXT war-- //hey,// she thought, //Elfy's unneutered; maybe they'll have virtual kittens?// But that was another story...) Said bye-and-I-love-you-and-I'll-be-home-soon-so-run-for-cover to her mom, and hung up. Contemplated the phone for a minute... and made another call. "Hello?" //D*mn answering machines... Was that a beep?// "Hello?" "Sandra?" Jamie said into the phone. "One of them was me." And hung up. //Next war oughta be fun,// she thought idly, and strolled off to catch her bus back home. Jamie M.R. * - The Illustrated Cousin; Merc Nouveau -- Honorary FoD in Advanced Brunch; Temporary Raven-Not; Closet Nick&NatPacker, and what else? How many factions did I collect? Been there. Done that. Got the tattoo. And finally washed it off! ### UNTIL NEXT TIME by Torrey Harris Time: Early evening Place: In a plane somewhere over Colorado (I think) Torrey was seated by the window and luckily no one was sitting beside her. Staring out of the window at the glittering lights of some city below she let her mind drift back to the last couple of weeks. // Well It was defiantly a *experience*. I'm just glad that I wont be running into anymore cow stuff. I think I have had my fill of anything vaca related. \\ Even the thought of milk was making her stomach do funny things that sounded and felt bad. // I will miss the new friends I have made. I have to admit for a new faction they all did suprisingly well, even Vachon took it all in stride. Hmm Vachon, I wonder what he thinks about the list I left with him.// Before leaving the church Torrey had presented Vachon with a small list of things to get in the case of another war.// Next time we will be better prepared. Torrey though to herself. I know he can get the stuff...and I think he will after what we put that poor through the last couple of weeks. Letting her eyes drift shut Torrey drifted off to sleep. Her dreams were filled with memories of fun and turmoil shared with friends, and that darn dream about Miklos in the Micky Mouse slippers again!" ### THE LAST WORD FROM THE IB CAMP by Felicia Bollin Time: Early evening Place: The Raven Ari slung her overstuffed suitcase onto the pile in the back room of the Raven, tears in the corner of her eyes. Not from sadness--- well, only partially--- mostly a conditioned reflex to the sight of the table under which she had napped for most of her time in Toronto. She could still remember each and every one of the times she'd thwacked her head on it, bolting upright to answer another summons from the front doorbell. Sighing, she looked around the room. <> she thought. <> It was an uncomfortable throwback to the bereft feeling that had often assailed her each time she had had to leave her beloved college campus--- especially the last time. One of those "The place may remain the same, and we may return to it, but we'll never all be in the same place again, doing the same things, at the same point in our lives, within a stone's throw of each other" feelings. <>, she reasoned. The door swung open, a babble of sound from the "till the last dog is hung" crowd--- nine-tenths of them Ravenettes or Cousins, so it would seem--- burst in, then faded just as abruptly as the door shut. Chanda came back in, screwing on her earring. "I just finished talking to my uncle," she explained. "He says whenever we're ready, he'll come and get us--- I figured we could just hang out here. It's not like the Cousins are going to toast us, not anymore. And who would want to miss the chance to see Janette's takeoff, if they could get it? Maybe we can coax Nick and/ or LaCroix to do a few loop-the-loops with her in midair. If worse comes to worst, I bet we could at least get Miklos to do an aerial exhibition with her--- or Vachon!! Did you see his jaw drop the first time he got a look at her?! I heard him whisper, '*That's* the chick who's nuts for Nick? What is he made of, stone?!' to Urs. I had to bite my tongue to keep from responding, 'No, bricks.' " She chuckled. Old habits of Nick-picking died hard. Chanda's uncle would be there around midnight, to drive the two--- Chanda had to go back to Tennessee to school, and since heaven knew Syracuse wasn't that far away from Toronto, she had kindly offered to drop Ari so that they could have a few more hours of talking time, to come down from the aftereffects of the War. Which would probably be a Good Thing. Chanda sighed at the miserable look on her face, as Ari swept a tear out of the way. "Hey, there's nothing to be sad about. After all, we did pretty well." She patted her on the shoulder. "I know," Ari sniffled miserably. "But this--- I mean--- you're all like my family. Better, even. You watch "Forever Knight". My family doesn't even know I'm a listmember. No more Janette, no more incomprehensible discussions of physics with Kathy, no more renditions of Tara's bawdy song, no more Brooklynese tirades on our morals, priorities, and ancestry from Chris, no more mother-henning Susan to make sure she doesn't forget to eat while she's writing, no more cleaned-up Vachon, no more Tami and Mai Tais, no more Miklos to drool over---" She sniffled aga