The Second Forever Knight War Edited by Dawn Steele and Angel Morgan This war took place in the first 3 weeks of July, 94. The new fall 1994 season was still far away, and any reference to the show should be from the first season only. ----------------------------------------------------------------- NOTE: Anything between [...] brackets was added later on. Some posts have been broken up into parts. Posts are divided up by ----------------------------------------------------------------- Disclaimer: Any mistakes, screw-ups, mislabelling, mistypings, and speelling errors will have to be cheerfully accepted. :) ----------------------------------------------------------------- "The Players" The Little People: Cheshire (Cat).........................FoSsil Chewie (Cat)...........................FoSsil Gandalf (Cat)..........................FoSsil Goblin (Cat)...........................Ravenette Hazel (Rabbit).........................Ravenette Merlin (Cat)...........................FoSsil Sidney (Cat)...........................FoSsil The Big People: Ava Chan-Chowder.......................Knightie Barb "The Empress of Celery"...........Unaffiliated Beth Marchese "LizBeth"................Ravenette Betsy Scroggs..........................Ravenette Betsy Vera.............................NatPack Brian Gerstel "Merlin".................Knightie Bruce Gray.............................Die-Hard Christine Reynolds "Mom"...............Cousin Dawn Steele............................Die-Hard Debbie Kraft...........................FoSsil Dennis.................................Cousin Dionne Nelson "Empress of Cats"........Die-Hard Elizabeth Bales........................NatPack Hilary McLachlan.......................Knightie Ivy Reisner............................Knightie Jennie Hayes...........................NatPack Jennise Hall "Daughter of LaCriox".....Unaffiliated/Vampire John Dencoff "Emperor of Harpsichords".Cousin/Vampire Judith Wilson..........................Knightie Katherine King.........................Die-Hard Laurie Salopek.........................Cousin/Ravenette/Cousin Lisa Luksus "Cousin Tok"...............Cousin Lisa McDavid...........................Cousin/Unaffiliated/Cousin M.J. "Mary" Farrell....................Ravenette Monica Seiler..........................Ravenette/Cousin 'Most Holy.............................FoSsil Panstygia "Nan"........................NatPack Pamela Rush............................FoD Robert Reynolds "Dark Prince"..........Cousin Robin Bonke............................Die-Hard Robin Carroll-Mann.....................NatPack Ronnie Katz "Ron the Enforcer".........Die-Hard/Vampire Sandra Gray............................Knightie Sandye Chisholm........................Cousin Selma McCrory..........................Knightie/Cousin/NatPack Sharon Himmanen........................NatPack/Cousin/NatPack Sharon Scott...........................Knightie Sherry Crabtree........................FoD Susan Garrett..........................Ravenette Sylvia Colston.........................Graces S. Tanaquil Johnson....................NatPack Tracy Clarke...........................Die-Hard Valerie Meachum........................NatPack ---------------------------------------------------------------- part 1: Up to Tues, July5 part 2: Tues ->up to Fri part 3: Fri. -> up to Sun part 4: Sun. (10th) -> up to Tues (12) part 5: Tues -> up to Sun (17th) part 6: Sun -> to end Table of Contents: -------------------Several Weeks Ago---------------------------- Application Forthcoming (part1/4)...................Susan Garrett -------------------Sunday, July 3rd----------------------------- Application Forthcoming (part2/4)...................Susan Garrett Application Forthcoming (part3/4)...................Susan Garrett -------------------Monday, July 4th----------------------------- Application Forthcoming (part4/4)...................Susan Garrett Shades of Gray......................................Anne Elk Assignment: Knighties...............................Sharon Himmanen 10:00 AM, Monday, July 4th..........................Pamela Rush The Rabbit..........................................Beth Marchese Something on the FTP site...........................Laurie Salopek Random Correspondence...............................Selma McCrory Living Up to the Name...............................Valerie Meachum Cousin John Considers Lunch.........................John Dencoff P.C. Phone Home!....................................Brian Gerstel Family Feud.........................................Lisa McDavid Family Feud Continues...............................Lisa McDavid Cousin John Eats Barney for Lunch (part1/2).........John Dencoff Affiliations .......................................S.Tanaquil Johnson The Newest Arrival (part1/2)........................Cousin Monica Coming Down Off the Fence...........................Sylvia Colston Affiliations .......................................Laurie Salopek July 4, Early July 5 (part1/2)......................Pamela Rush FoSsiLs Attack, Alpha (1)--Sidney makes His Move ...Debbie Kraft Cousin John Eats Barney for Lunch (part2/2) ........John Dencoff Hazel! .............................................Beth Marchese Nick Takes Action ..................................Sandra Gray Janette's Response (part1/2) .......................Susan Garrett The Newest Arrival (part2/2) .......................Cousin Monica Janette's Response (part2/2) .......................Susan Garrett You said WHAT??? or Cousin John gets a Hearing Aid .Cousin Sandye (10:43 PM CDT)--Dinner .............................Sharon S. Scott The Final Cut ......................................Cousin Sandye The Leaflet ........................................Dawn Steele -----------------Tuesday, July 6th------------------------------- FoSiLs Attack, Beta (2)--Meet One of the Nine ......Debbie Kraft Ornamentation ......................................Sharon S. Scott July 4, Early July 5 (part2/2) .....................Pamela Rush Alma's Message .....................................Beth Marchese Strategy 101 .......................................Sharon Himmanen More Die-Hards .....................................Katherine King Leaflets: The Distribution .........................Dawn Steele *yawn* .............................................Laurie Salopek Mmmm! Barneyburgers! (part1/2) .....................John Dencoff A FoSsiL enters the Fray (part1/2)..................'Most Holy A Mysterious Message (part1/2)......................Beth Marchese -----------------Wednesday, July 7th------------------------------ A Mysterious Message (part2/2) .....................Beth Marchese Mmmm! Barneyburgers! (part2/2) .....................John Dencoff Dino-Therapy .......................................Valerie Meachum Friends of Sidney on Alert .........................Lisa Luksus (Tok) A FoSsiL enters the Fray (part2/2) .................'Most Holy Family Feud Does Not Include Felines ...............Lisa McDavid The Damage That Has Been Done ......................Selma McCrory Amazing Grace ......................................Sylvia Colston Plastic Power ......................................Ivy Reisner Traitor at the Gates ...............................Susan Garrett Dreaming of the Fright .............................Cousin Monica FoDly Plans ........................................Pamela Rush A New Operative ....................................Ava Chan-Chowder More Trouble Than You Can Shake a Stick At (part1/2)S.Tanaquil Johnson Sandra Is Confused (part1/2) .......................Sandra Gray She's Baaaackk .....................................Jennise Hall In Which a New Virus Is Set Loose ..................Sharon S. Scott The Die-hard Charter ...............................Dawn Steele Sandra Is Confused (part2/2) .......................Sandra Gray Riding Through the War .............................Cousin Dennis Defective Cousins ..................................John Dencoff In The Cage ........................................Cousin Sandye The Grand Parade Of Lifeless Packaging .............Cousin Monica More Trouble Than You Can Shake a Stick At (part2/2)S.Tanaquil Johnson FoSsiLs Attack, Gamma(3)--Through the Looking Glass Debbie Kraft Bang the Drum Slowly ...............................Sharon Himmanen Damn The Fractals! .................................Laurie Salopek ------------------------Thursday, July 7th------------------------- Judgement Call .....................................Sandra Gray Schanke Wonders ....................................Sandra Gray Family Feud Escalates ..............................Lisa McDavid A nasty FTP Surprise ...............................Laurie Salopek Family Feud Turns Frightening ......................Lisa McDavid Disks Away! ........................................Selma McCrory Clearing Things Up .................................Selma McCrory Family Feud Spreads to Friends .....................Lisa McDavid Rumblings ..........................................Beth Marchese Mom Goes Ballistic .................................Christine Reynolds Judgement Call part 2 ..............................Sandra Gray Re: Sharon's Diary .................................Pamela Rush They're EVERYWHERE .................................Susan Garrett Utilizing Utilities ................................Ivy Reisner Untitled ...........................................Betsy Vera Bank Job ...........................................Ivy Reisner The Unconfinement ..................................Selma McCrory Net Lag ............................................Valerie Meachum Impatience Strikes .................................Valerie Meachum Betsy's Transformation: The Expurgated Version .....Cousin Dennis Oh No You Don't ....................................Sharon Himmanen It Begins! .........................................Sharon Himmanen The Plea is Answered ...............................Sharon S. Scott Oh, yeah... ........................................Sharon S. Scott Re: Net Lag ........................................Sharon Himmanen Going Undercover ...................................S.Tanaquil Johnson Inconvenient Escalation ............................Valerie Meachum An Idea! ...........................................Betsy Vera What To Do? ........................................Dionne Nelson, ......................Empress of Cats Goblin on Her Own ..................................Dionne Nelson, ......................Empress of Cats Jumping the Fence ..................................Panstygia (Nan) Monica's Errand ....................................Ivy Reisner Cousin Tok Hits Toronto ............................Lisa Luksus (Tok) The Gray's Hit Toronto .............................Sandra Gray Mission: IMPOSSIBLE ................................Sharon Himmanen --------------------------Friday, July 8th---------------------------- A Lurker Joins the Fray ............................Betsy Scroggs Dawn Endures the Heat... ...........................Dawn Steele Sneaking In ........................................Jennie Hayes At the Die-Hard Digs ...............................Sandra Gray FoDly Foraging .....................................Pamela Rush Precaution .........................................Ivy Reisner En Route ...........................................S.Tanaquil Johnson Interruptions (part1/2).............................Jennie Hayes Play! [part1/2] ....................................Dionne Nelson, ............................Empress of Cats Family Feud Turns Wagnerian (part1/2) ..............Lisa McDavid Fade to Black ......................................Cousins Monica, ......................................Dennis and Sandye FoSsiLs Attack, Delta(4) -Clipping Little Crow's Wings ......................................Debbie Kraft Cousin John Captured ...............................Sandra Gray Family Feud Turns Wagnerian (part2/2) ..............Lisa McDavid After the Commotion ................................Sandra Gray Play! [part2/2] ....................................Dionne Nelson, ..........................Empress of Cats A Financial Affair .................................Ivy Reisner Stealing the Abarat (part1/2).......................Sandra Gray A New Neighbor .....................................Ivy Reisner A Message to All Knighties re:bookworm .............Ivy Reisner A message to Nick and Knighties re: new info .......Ivy Reisner Ex-Cousin John Pays the Price ......................John Dencoff John Needs a Doctor ................................Ivy Reisner John Comes Across ..................................Ivy Reisner Bay Area Party .....................................Barb, ........................Empress of Celery A Way To Spend a Weekend ...........................Selma McCrory John Comes Across ..................................Ivy Reisner Enemy Territory (part1/2) ..........................S.Tanaquil Johnson The Summit .........................................Valerie Meachum At Nick's Summit Meeting, Part I ...................Sandra Gray Curiosity Kills the Cat? ...........................Sharon Himmanen Yes, we have no titles today .......................Sharon Himmanen Coming Together ....................................Valerie Meachum A FoDly development ................................Pamela Rush To Toronto .........................................Ava Chan-Crowder Side Trip to Hell ..................................Panstygia (Nan) The Summit .........................................Sharon S. Scott Another Long Night's Drive .........................Betsy Vera At Nick's Summit Meeting, Part II (Revised) ........Sandra Gray Safe Haven .........................................Panstygia (Nan) Stealing the Abarat (part2/2) ......................Sandra Gray Lurker's Lament ....................................Betsy Scroggs A Telegram Arrives .................................Ivy Reisner Is There An Echo ...................................Susan Garrett Arrival ............................................Sharon S. Scott At Nick's Summit Meeting, part III .................Sandra Gray Jennise Makes An Offer .............................Jennise Hall When the Piper Calls ...............................The Coterie: ............................Cousins Monica, ............................Sandye, Dennis A Long Night's Drive ...............................Beth Marchese --------------------------Saturday, July 9th------------------------ Rockslide ..........................................Valerie Meachum Meanwhile, back at the loft... ....................Valerie Meachum John's Lofty Problem ...............................Sandra Gray Mission Report .....................................Betsy Vera The Charter (flashback) ............................Tracy Clarke Read My Lips, No! ..................................Judith Wilson Decision Time ......................................Robin Carroll-Mann 101 Gateway Lane ...................................Ava Chan-Crowder Destination Toronto ................................Dawn Steele The Exo-WHAT!? .....................................Robin Bonke Assignments and Rescues ............................Lisa Luksus (Tok) The "Joker" Strikes ................................Panstygia (Nan) A New Beginning (part1/2) ..........................Sharon Himmanen Interruptions (part2/2) ............................Jennie Hayes Utterly Alone ......................................John Dencoff Just a Little Crisis ...............................Valerie Meachum Little Crisis (Cont.) ..............................Valerie Meachum The Rescue is On ...................................Lisa Luksus (Tok) Surprise! ..........................................Betsy Vera Pets or Meat .......................................Susan Garrett Enemy Territory (part2/2) ..........................S.Tanaquil Johnson A New beginning (part2/2) ..........................Sharon Himmanen Natalie, Help! .....................................Ivy Reisner FoSsiLs By the Tails ...............................'Most Holy Family Feud Ends As Lisa Leaves the War (revised)...Lisa McDavid An Arrival .........................................Sharon Himmanen Journey's End ......................................Robin Carroll-Mann The Snake Pit ......................................Sharon S. Scott Anybunny Here? .....................................Susan Garrett I'm In! ............................................S.Tanaquil Johnson Blood on the Rocks .................................Susan Garrett The Pause That Refreshes? ..........................Sandra Gray Up on the Rooftop, Nick, Nick, Nick ................Sharon S. Scott -------------------------Sunday, July 10th---------------------------- Just a lookin' for a home ..........................Lisa McDavid Lisa finishes what Alma has be-gun .................Lisa McDavid Meeting the Gang (part1/2)..........................Jennie Hayes Abrogating the Abarat ..............................Lisa McDavid The South Shall Rise Again .........................Sharon S. Scott Lions and Tigers and Javas, Oh My! .................Lisa McDavid The Enforcer Arrives ...............................Ronnie Katz Meeting the Gang (part2/2)..........................Jennie Hayes The Enforcer Arrives -part2 ........................Ronnie Katz Beating a Hasty Retreat ............................Sharon Himmanen The Vote ...........................................Jennie Hayes Enforcer's Departure ...............................Ronnie Katz Final Exit of John and the Enforcer ................John Dencoff Arafats and Arabats and Little Vamps Eat Ivy .......Ivy Reisner Moving On ..........................................Jennie Hayes Delivery! (part1/2) ................................Sharon Himmanen Lisa Leaves for a Needed Rest ......................Dawn Steele Food and Laptops (revised) .........................Sharon Himmanen Betsy Makes An Offer ...............................Betsy Vera Missing Goblin... ..................................Dionne Nelson, ......................Empress of Cats Ivy Waits for Ghosts ...............................Ivy Reisner One More From the Road .............................Susan Garrett FoDly Arrival ......................................Pamela Rush ------------------------ay, July 11th------------------------------ Back at the Die-hards Again ........................Sandra Gray Jennise Takes A Trip ...............................Jennise Hall A new recruit...Or then Again, Maybe Not ...........Elizableth Bales Tok's Reprogramming ................................Lisa Luksus (Tok) Lunch With Schanke .................................Pamela Rush Decisions, Decisions ...............................Sandra Gray Answers ............................................Jennie Hayes Underground Blasting ...............................Sandra Gray LC gets an invitation ..............................Pamela Rush Janette Has An Off Night (part1/3) .................S.Tanaquil Johnson Raven Watching .....................................Jennie Hayes Arrivals ...........................................Sharon Scott Jennise Develops a Tail ............................Selma McCrory A Proposed Excursion ...............................Dawn Steele Ladies Night at the Raven ..........................Dawn Steele Jennise Snips her Tail (pt.1) ......................Jennise Hall Jennise Snips her Tail (pt.2) ......................Jennise Hall Arriving in Toronto (Exo-WHAT!? partII) ............Robin Bonke -------------------Tuesday, July 12th-------------------------------- Janette Has An Off Night (part2/3) .................S.Tanaquil Johnson Delivery! (part2/2) ................................Sharon Himmanen Delivery Continues .................................Pamela Rush Clowning Around ....................................Jennie Hayes Janette Has An Off Night (part3/3)..................S.Tanaquil Johnson Correction .........................................Dionne Nelson, ........................Empress of Cats It's Forever Dark at the Opera .....................Pamela Rush It's Forever Dark at the Opera, pt 2 ...............Pamela Rush A New Nat-packer Enters the Fray ...................Elizabeth Bales ------------------------Wednesday, July 13th---------------------- Thicker Than Water .................................Lisa McDavid Yet Another Bad Day for Janette ....................Elizableth Bales Mary Had A little Box ..............................M.J. Farrell Home Again, Back Again, Jiggedy-Jig ................Valerie Meachum All Dressed Up and no place to go but down .........Jennie Hayes ------------------Thursday, July 14th----------------------------- Being Accommodating ................................Susan Garrett RLS revisited ......................................Susan Garrett On The Town ........................................Susan Garrett Natalie Has Enough .................................Sharon Himmanen Plans ..............................................Sharon Himmanen Casting Call .......................................Valerie Meachum Nick Confronts LaCroix .............................Sandra Gray Nick Corners the Conspirators ......................Sandra Gray The Die-Hards Try to Get Everyone Together... .....Dawn Steele Searching for Valerie ..............................Sandra Gray --------------------Friday, July 15th---------------------------- The Early Call .....................................Sandra Gray Room Service .......................................Susan Garrett Preparations .......................................Sharon Himmanen Steaming Envelopes .................................Sharon S. Scott Steaming Envelopes part 2 ..........................Sharon S. Scott Steaming Envelopes part 3 ..........................Sharon S. Scott ------------------Saturday, July 16th------------------------------ Cat Calls ..........................................Susan Garrett Curses, Foiled Again! .............................'Most Holy ------------------Sunday, July 17th-------------------------------- FoD Post-Prandial-mortem ...........................Pamela Rush, ...........................Sherry Crabtree On the Road Again ..................................Robin Carroll-Mann Die-Hards go to the Islands ........................Dawn Steele Things that go "bu" on the ferry ...................'Most Holy Feary Ferry Nick at Night ..........................Sandra Gray Another Trip on the Ferry ..........................Lisa Luksus (Tok) Yet Another Arrival ................................Elizabeth Bales The Spectacle Begins ...............................Dawn Steele Peasants! ..........................................Susan Garrett FK: The Alternate Universe (1/4) ...................Jennise Hall A Minor Squabble ...................................Sandra Gray FK: The Alternate Universe (2/4) ...................Jennise Hall Creative Control ...................................Valerie Meachum Schanke on Location 1 ..............................Pamela Rush Musings from the Pavement ..........................Selma McCrory FK: The Alternate Universe (3/4) ...................Jennise Hall Your 15 Minutes Start ..............................Susan Garrett Hilary makes a spectacle ...........................Selma McCrory Not a Spectator Sport ..............................S.Tanaquil Johnson A Single Picture is Worth... .......................Dawn Steele And Around She Goes ................................Susan Garrett LaCroix Makes an Offer Sandra Can't Refuse? ........Sandra Gray FK: The Alternate Universe (4/4) ...................Jennise Hall On the Good Ship S.S. Identity Crises, pt 1.........Selma McCrory I'm Ready for my Close-up, Dr.DeMille ..............Sharon Himmanen Schanke on Location 2 ..............................Pamela Rush Pretty as a Picture ................................Susan Garrett Kittens Have Claws .................................Susan Garrett Is is Live or is it...? ...........................Susan Garrett Chaos and Mayhem ...................................Jennise Hall ---------------------Monday, July 18th---------------------------- The Escape .........................................Sandra Gray The Gray-t Escape ..................................Sandra Gray Dawn packs up on the Island ........................Dawn Steele Mail Call! .........................................Sharon Himmanen Still Raiding ......................................Susan Garrett What do you mean, Fly? .............................'Most Holy Away All Boats .....................................Sharon S. Scott Reluctant Sailors (revised).........................Lisa Luksus (Tok) On the Good Ship S.S. Idendity Crises, pt 2 ........Selma McCrory The Lurker Goes Home ...............................Betsy Scroggs Final Curtain ......................................Sandra Gray War Wrap pt1 (part1/2) .............................Susan Garrett Margaretmares ......................................Sharon S. Scott War Wrap pt1 (part2/2) .............................Susan Garrett War Wrap pt2 (part1/2) .............................Susan Garrett Jennise's Wrap Up ..................................Jennise Hall ----------------Wednesday, July 19th------------------------------ California Looks good right now ....................Selma McCrory War Wrap pt2 (part2/2) .............................Susan Garett ----------------------------------------------------------------- Date: Sun, 3 Jul 1994 14:56:00 EDT From: Laurie Salopek Subject: Applications 1/4 I am posting this for Susan Garrett. Please mail all replies to her at susang2522@aol.com ----------------------------------------------------------------- Application Forthcoming [several weeks ago] Part 1 of 4 Janette looked up from the mess on her desk, hearing the knock on the door. "Enter." It was Nicola. He opened the door only part of the way, then peered into the room, one hand beneath his jacket. She smiled when she realized that he was prepared to reach for his gun--as if his teeth and strength wouldn't be enough to handle any possible danger? He was spending too much time with these mortals. His worried expression, though, placated her. At least he was still concerned for her welfare . . . . "You said you had a problem?" "For you. Not the ." Janette seated herself behind the mound of paper on her desk. His hand dropped from his holster and he stalked directly toward her. "Janette, we've talked about the definitions of an 'emergency' before--" "And you don't call an emergency?" she answered, meeting his angry glare with one of her own, rising from her seat, and indicating the pile of paper on her desk with a wave of her hand. She didn't know whether it was her tone or the sheer volume of paper that managed to distract him, but his eyes widened at the sight of the mess. "I told you, if you paid your bills on time--" "My accountant handles that. No, this is fault." "My fault?" He looked up at her with innocent eyes. And she almost forgave him. "You're the one who convinced me to take in all of these applications from those . . . those . . ." "Fans?" he offered. "" Huffily, she sat down in her chair and folded her arms. "I have a business to run, Nicola. And . . . other interests. I am a secretary." "Administrative assistant," he corrected absently, picking up a handful of envelopes and glancing over them. "" This time she was certain the tone of her voice got through, he looked up at her sharply. "I don't see the problem." "There's too many of them! And the condition of some of these things. Like that!" She pointed to an envelope he held in his hand, which may have been virgin white at some time in the past, but was covered with a number of nameless spots and blotches. Nicola placed the rest back on the pile and examined the envelope more carefully, sniffing at the paper. "Coffee," he announced. "Ketchup and--" he winced, nearly dropping the envelope, "garlic!" "Now look inside." Carefully, Nicola opened it and withdrew a slip of paper. "FOD?" "One of your partner's . And they're all like that. All of anyway." Sighing, she leaned back in the chair. "And they're starting to infect my other mail! I had to have Evan handle an invoice because it so smelled of garlic that it made me want to wretch." Using two fingers, Nicola carefully replaced the letter in the envelope and let it fall to the desk. "I can see your point. But it's not entirely their fault. And Schanke's getting better about that stuff--" "You've started to let him eat in your car, haven't you?" Frowning, she added, "But with me you're soooo worried about blood on the upholstery?" He ignored the accusation. "He's got his fans. We've all got our fans." Curious, he picked up another envelope--clean, the writing crisp and very legible. "That must be for your coroner friend. I expect that it smells of formaldehyde." Nicola lifted the envelope to his nostrils, sniffed, and smiled. "Wrong. Ivory soap. And . . . buttered popcorn." "Just as bad." The grin infuriated her, but she shrugged it off. "At least hers are legible. They fill in everything completely and neatly. Unlike your own--" reaching forward, she picked up a tattered envelope and handed it to him. Nicola opened it and looked at the paper inside. "What's wrong with this?" "Of course--you wouldn't notice, would you?" Rising from her chair, Janette walked around the desk and pointed over his shoulder. "Half the information's missing, and the half that's there is on the wrong line, or makes no sense whatsoever. Although some of them have promise--the males, anyway. The females . . . I'm assuming they're captivated by your boyish charm." Nicola was still looking down at the application. "Or my moral turpitude." "Oh, good. You've started using that 'Word-A- Day' calendar I bought you." He looked up sharply. "I happen to know you got it on sale." "Fresh." Janette raised her hand to his face, close to raking her nails across his cheek, but that sparkle in his eyes stopped her. He was a tease sometimes. "You know I don't bother with such tawdry things as sales." "I know. Although I don't think tawdry's shown up on the calendar, yet." He dropped the letter to the pile and leaned back against the desk, as if studying her. "But I'm pretty certain it means cheap, showy, flashy, trashy--" "Oh, Nicola, you say the things," she purred, moving to place her arms around his neck. Suddenly, there was an envelope between his lips and hers. As she drew back, he sniffed it, then offered it to her. "One of yours, I suspect. There's a hint of Chanel. And . . . chablis?" "Spoilsport." Snatching the letter from his hand, Janette stalked back to the other side of her desk. "At least my devotees have nice penmanship--or, if not, the sense to use some mechanical device. They have style, class, elan-- " "And a tendency to fall off bar stools." "You're not being nice." "I'm on duty." "Ah, yes. " She let enough emphasis linger on the word, so that he looked up from the pile of mail, sharply. "But mine survive, Nicola. We survive, one way or another." "You're as constant as the wind." Stretching, Janette leaned back in her seat and purred. "That's one of the nicest things you've ever said to me." "It's true." He picked up yet another envelope. It was relatively unmarked, of an indiscernible color, but definitely virgin white. He moved to open it-- And Janette rose from her chair and snatched it from him, so quickly that he cut his finger on the edge of the paper. Nicola put his finger in his mouth and arched an eyebrow in her direction. "It's . . . for LaCroix," she said quietly. With the tip of her fingernail, she wiped the small speck of his blood from the lip of the envelope. "They're few and far between, all shapes and sizes and colors, no two alike . . . except for what's inside." When she looked up, Nicola was frowning. Running his hand through the pile of mail on her desk, he asked, "There are that many?" "Some." She raised the envelope to her lips, then looked down at the faint mark of her lipstick against the paper. "As you said, we all have our fans, including LaCroix. You mustn't forget, Nicola, we among his first." Nicola shook his head. "No. Not for long." "For long enough." He'd turned his head, was looking away--at that far distant past, perhaps? "You played the game, for a time. You enjoyed it." When he looked back at her, eyes dark, a denial on his lips, she smiled. "Ah, but you . For a time." Then she looked down at the envelope again. "You mustn't condemn them--they're as weak and as foolish as any mortals. As we once were. They've made they're choice. As we did." "But they're ," Nicola said sharply. He reached for the envelope in her hands, then thought better of it and turned away. "They could be saved--" "Then save them." Janette tossed the envelope onto the pile and met his angry gaze. "They're mortals, after all. They're not mine. They're my concern . . . unless they interrupt my interests." Leaning back in her chair, she steepled her fingers and stared at the pile. "In fact, these things are starting to annoy me. I've considered shipping the lot to LaCroix--" Nicola was at her side instantly, a hand on her shoulder. When she looked up at him, her expression carefully blank, he whispered, "Don't." "It's a promise, a threat," she warned, gesturing toward the mess. "Oh, I'll remove my own, first. But what would LaCroix do with all of those applications from your fans, or those of your partner, or your Natalie . . . ." His hand left her shoulder and he massaged the back of his neck, glancing at the envelopes. "Janette, I don't have the time." "Then find someone who ." She reached down to pick up an envelope that had slipped from the desk--a pattern of pink hearts intertwined with a chain ran along one edge. Realizing it had caught Nicola's attention, she said, "Alma." His eyes widened, then he nodded. "Okay." He walked away from the desk, then back again. "I guess maybe I could ask Nat--" "Perfect!" Janette rose to her feet and picked up a white mail sack which sat beside her chair. She pushed it into his hands, then gestured toward the envelopes. "Mortals like that sort of detail work. It helps fill their dreary little existences, so I'm told." Nicola shot her a glance, then started pushing the mail from her desk and into the sack. Janette bent down and picked up a few envelopes that escaped his attention, then handed them to him when he was done. "She'll know where to forward your mail, and mine, and your partner's--I believe LaCroix has a mail drop somewhere in the locality. I'll give her the address." " handle LaCroix's mail," said Nick, shoving the last envelopes into the sack, then pulling the drawstring tight. Janette's eyes widened. She took in a sharp breath and touched her finger to her lips as she returned to her chair, behind her clean desk. "Are you certain that's wise?" "Everyone deserves a second chance." He met her eyes, his smile grim. "Even us." "Brave ." Shrugging, she answered his smile. "My hands are clean of it, whatever you do. Give your coroner my best, won't you?" The sack must have weighed close to a hundred pounds, but Nick lifted it without effort, holding it over his shoulder and looking very much like a sailor prepared to embark on a journey. He headed toward the door, but turned when he was almost across the room. "About those emergency calls--?" Janette pouted, then smiled. "I'll behave in future." Then, she pointed toward the open door. "Don't forget the rest." "The . . . rest?" Dropping the sack, Nicola walked to the door and closed it. There were four more mail bags of the same size resting back there. His eyes were filled with accusation as he turned to her. "That's this week's worth. And my desk is only big," she said in defense, with as much innocence as she could manage. "Shall I have them sent to her office? Or . . . your loft?" "The loft. the loft," answered Nicola. Throwing up his hands, he walked back to the bag he'd abandoned, then shot her a glance over his shoulder. "Janette--have you ever wondered why they bother? I mean . . . all ." "They're only mortals, Nicola. They need to amuse themselves . . . just like us." He thought about it for a moment, then nodded, seeming to accept the answer. Janette waited until he'd left, then stretched luxuriously in her chair. She was quit of it-- free! Not only had she saddled Nicola with sorting and forwarding all of that horrid correspondence, he'd no doubt actually ask his coroner friend for her assistance! Men could be fools, sometimes. Laughing, she rose to her feet, then looked down. The envelope addressed to Alma had escaped the bag. She opened her mouth--to call Nicola back--then decided against it. Flipping the envelope against the palm of her hand, she walked to the door of her office. She was curious to see what sort of mortal would write to Alma. And . . . if truth be told, foisting off her load on Nicola had been thirsty work. She needed a drink. After all, she had a reputation to protect. One that her followers would be proud to live up to. End of Part I ----------------------Sunday, July 3rd-------------------------- ---------------------------------------------------------------- Date: Sun, 3 Jul 1994 14:59:00 EDT From: Laurie Salopek Subject: Applications 2/4 I am posting this for Susan Garrett. Please email all replies to her at susang2522@aol.com ----------------------------------------------------------------- Application Forthcoming [Sunday, July 3rd, evening] Part 2 of 4 There was paper everywhere. Nick looked around the loft and sighed. He'd tried to sort the mail. He tried. But it was just such a monumental task! No wonder Janette had foisted the job off on him. If he'd been in his right mind, he would have left the sacks in her office and walked away. But then, she might have followed through on her threat and given the lot to LaCroix--one never quite knew what Janette would do. And if happened . . . . Nick shuddered at the possible consequences and picked up the bottle of blood from his coffee table. That's all LaCroix and his followers needed, fresh souls to torment. As if LaCroix's fans needed the practice. He well remembered the last time LaCroix had set his followers on the others. The dedication and enthusiasm with which they'd followed their 'Uncle's' orders still unnerved him. Rising from the couch, Nick stepped around the piles of mail he'd already managed to sort and walked to the windows. The sun had set--it was almost time for him to leave. He'd always balked at paperwork, but right now the familiarity of an F-slash-24-dot-L form would be a welcome change from going through envelope after envelope. Most of them weren't that bad, but the souvlaki recipes and variants from Schanke's fans were driving him crazy-- especially the ones containing samples. Nick lifted the bottle to his lips and looked back at the paperwork. He had three weeks worth now. And he hadn't gotten up the nerve to ask Natalie to take care of it for him. He knew she'd be brilliant at it--she was one of the most organized people he'd ever met--but there was some inner sense that warned him that maybe she wouldn't take on the job all that willingly. And Janette's whole-hearted approval of the idea meant that it was probably a very bad thing. Once he'd come close to asking, when she'd mentioned that the mail seemed to have dropped off some in the past few weeks. But self-preservation had kicked in and he'd muttered some feeble excuse about people being on vacation. need to take a vacation, after handling this stuff. And, for once, he envied LaCroix his followers. But . . . he had his own followers, didn't he? Setting the bottle of blood down on the piano, Nick walked back to the couch and found the pile that contained his fan mail. So many people were willing to follow him, maybe they'd also be willing to donate a couple of hours, help him sort through this mess. He'd overheard some of them talking at the Raven at the end of the last war--there seemed to be some sort of tradition about gathering together to do sorting, or collating, or stapling . . . or something like that. With enough people, they could cut the work down to a couple of hours. And then, maybe, if they were interested, he could have them take care of LaCroix's mail. Nick guessed his fans would be as horrified as he was that misguided souls were willing to put their trust in LaCroix. Maybe they could talk to those foolish mortals, warn them off, set them straight-- Nick let the letters slip through his hands, back to the floor. What was he thinking? That was just how LaCroix worked, his followers to do his dirty work. He didn't want to lead anyone, control anyone. He was embarrassed that these people idolized him, after all he'd done over the years. The thought that he'd even considered taking advantage of them scared him. Sweeping away the pile with his hand, Nick rose and walked back to the bottle of blood on the piano. He lifted it to his lips, swallowed, then left the empty bottle there and headed toward the elevator. It was time for him to go to work. And, as the elevator door closed, cutting off his view of all that paper, he made a promise to himself that he'd get a fresh start on it as soon as he came back. Maybe. --- "Are you certain?" asked Janette, licking her lips. It was only a moment later that she dropped her desk phone into its cradle, then picked up her cigarette from the ashtray and took a drag. The fax still lay on her desk where it had fallen the moment she'd read it. She glanced down at it again in disbelief--it had seemed so unlikely at first. A trap? A trick? But she'd made inquiries and her sources of information were unimpeachable. Well, most of them. It was, as Nicola would say, on the level. And it put her in a difficult position. Seating herself at her desk, she leaned back in her chair and touched the end of the cigarette lightly to her lips. What to do? What to do? It was a foolhardy thing even to be considered and she'd never been known for doing uncommonly foolish things. But the entreaty was so flattering. And the challenge of the situation gave her something new to think about. It was so very rare that she had something to think about . . . . After a moment's pause, Janette tapped out the cigarette in her ashtray, then picked up the telephone again. She dialed the number from memory--such a handy thing, this memory-- and then waited as the line rang. She wasn't certain he would pick up. It was his private line, of course, and few enough people had the number. But he didn't always want to answer. And when he didn't want to do something he simply did not do it. The thought made her smile--it was one of his traits that still charmed her. "," she said softly, as she heard the receiver lifted. "I'm pleased to find you in." "Are you really?" There was a sarcastic edge to LaCroix's tone--she found that charming as well, at times. "Don't be rude to me. I'm doing you a favor." She fumbled with the lid of her cigarette box, then managed to capture one between her fingers. "Have you noticed lately that your mail has been . . . delayed?" "Has it? I've been busy--haven't really noticed--" "Well, it . And not because of me," she said quickly, annoyed at the lack of interest in his voice. "Because I'm no longer handling all that nonsense. I've given it up. It's too much work." "And we all know how your enjoy work." But now, Janette smiled at the curiosity in his voice, as LaCroix asked, "Who Handling the mail?" Now it was her turn to pretend disinterest. "I've foisted it off on Nicola. Of course, he's very slow at sorting it and getting my letters to me, but then one would expect that from him." "You've gotten mail?" "And you haven't?" She clicked her tongue against her teeth. "I wonder what Nicola have done with all of your letters? He had quite a few when he left here. Such a shame! I know how you love to . . . correspond with your followers." Then, Janette took a breath and said coyly, "You don't suppose . . . could he intend not to forward your mail? Even Nicola couldn't be foolish." "I'm afraid that Nicholas' capacity for folly will continue to amaze us for centuries," said LaCroix. His words were light, but steel beneath lay beneath them. "Thank you, Janette. I'll take care of it." "I thought you might." She was about to hang up the phone, when LaCroix asked, "And why bring this to my attention? Not that I doubt you, but I can't help but wonder--are you pursuing any follies of your own?" Janette blanched, her fingers crushing the unlit cigarette. Damn LaCroix! There were times when she swore he could see right through her, into her mind and past even that, to her heart. Did he know about the fax? Better to take the chance that he didn't. Her voice was sweet as she answered, "You know my tastes are simple--my follies are young, handsome . . . and generally well-dressed. I'm not one for fool-hardy quests or risky ventures." "No, you're not." She was relieved at the dismissal in LaCroix's comment, however irritating it might be. "Again, thank you." There was no good-bye--he simply hung up the phone. Janette did the same, giving a little shiver as she did so, then tossed the ruined cigarette into the trash can beside her desk. But it was with an air of triumph that she retrieved another from her box, then lit it. Stretching, she rested in her chair and puffed on the cigarette for a moment, enjoying the curl of the smoke as it rose above her. LaCroix would be busy with this mail business. And she had no doubt that Nicola would be busy as well quite shortly. The mortals . . . well Nicola's coroner friend and his partner didn't interest her. Mortals seldom did unless, as she'd told LaCroix, they fell into the category of her momentary 'follies.' Then her eyes fell to the paper on her desk. But this was no folly. She'd taken the first step by laying a false scent for LaCroix. Now it was time for her to gather her followers to her, for their protection as well as her own. Again, Janette picked up the phone, this time pressing the button that would ring at the bar. She cradled the receiver between her neck and her shoulder as she lifted the faxed message, holding it by the upper corner with two fingers. As the phone rang, she picked up her cigarette lighter and toyed idly with the cap. "Yeah?" said Alma's voice. "Spit out the gum," commanded Janette. "Then get in here. I need you to send some messages for me. Larry Merlin has . . . um . . . forgiven you your little trespasses, yes?" Alma cleared her throat. "I still have access to the Internet--" "Good. Are you ready?" "Yeah, I guess. If you can just wait till this song's over . . . ." "Are you ?" repeated Janette sharply. "Shoot." "I want this sent to Janet, Monica, my darling Tara--I think she's having her mail forwarded, yes?--Barbara, that other writer . . . and the others." Janette sighed, watching the paper wave as she held it aloft. "So many others." She smiled. "Tell them that there may be trouble brewing--" "Another ?" squealed Alma. Janette nearly dropped the phone. Instead, she released the cigarette lighter and grabbed the receiver. "Alma, I've told you about doing that. It sets every dog in the neighborhood barking!" "Sorry. But . . . are we having another war?" "It might escalate to that, yes," admitted Janette, with a sigh. "Can anyone come this time?" asked Alma hesitantly. "I mean, have fans, too." "Ah, yes. I'd forgotten. Have they decided what to call themselves--No!" Janette decided quickly, as she heard Alma take a breath. "I'd rather know. Yes. I suppose they can play, too. I expect there'll be some interesting alignments this time . . . just like the last. Some new players." Janette pursed her lips, her eyes scanning the fax again. "Which is why this message go out today." "Trouble brewing--okay," said Alma. "Tell them--tell them that they'll have to renounce outside affiliations. That warren business was amusing, and interesting, but it won't be tolerated again. Tell them I'll need all of their resources, their wits and . . . their loyalty." Alma cleared her throat. "Janette? This sounds . . . serious. Are we in deep?" "Not yet, but we will be," she said softly. " deep. It's a coup, of sorts. One that won't be forgotten or forgiven for quite some time." Alma whistled--a very unladylike habit, but one which Janette had learned to tolerate. "Anything else?" "Just tell them--I'll contact them with more details shortly. And send it out immediately." She hung up the phone and glanced once more at the fax in her hand. Such a dangerous game to play. Clicking the lighter, she touched the edge of the flame to the paper. It took a minute to catch, but the thermal paper burned quickly. Janette dropped the smoldering paper into her ashtray and watched it burn, a smile playing around the edges of her lips. She leaned back in her chair again and picked up her abandoned cigarette, taking advantage of the relative calm of the moment. A dangerous game, but it only a game, after all. And this time, she didn't want to simply survive, or be among the final pieces on the board. This time she wanted to . And there was a good chance she would. Continued in part III ----------- Date: Sun, 3 Jul 1994 15:00:00 EDT From: Laurie Salopek Subject: Applications 3/4 Application Forthcoming Part 3 of 4 "Sssh!" "Sssh yourself," said Cousin Margaret, as she pushed open the door that led from the back stairs into Nick Knight's loft. The windows were open and the only light was from the streetlights outside and the moon. She was shoved from behind. "Come on," whispered Cousin John. "Get moving. We haven't got all night." "We've got another two hours at least," said Cousin Laurie. She closed the door behind them. For a moment, they stood in the kitchen, trying to get some sense of the place. "Bigger than I thought," said Cousin Margaret, after a moment's reflection. "A lot bigger. How's he change those light bulbs?" "Not a problem if you can fly," guessed Cousin John. He looked back at Laurie. "You've been here before. Where do we go?" Cousin Laurie cleared her throat nervously. Yes, she'd been in Nick's loft during the last war--when she switched the cow blood for human blood. "Don't know," she said. "Where do you suppose he keeps it?" They started out into the living room, immediately finding the floor covered with mail of all shapes and sizes. "What a mess!" said Cousin Margaret. "This place is a fire trap!" She grimaced, then looked back at Cousin John. "Uh . . . I didn't say that." "You think going to tell?" Taking a breath, he placed his hands on his hips, then shook his head. "How are we going to get this stuff out of here?" "All of it." said Cousin Laurie. Cousin John shrugged. "Uncle said everything." He picked up a mailbag and handed it to Cousin Margaret. "Why don't you guys get a start down here. I'll see if I can find his laptop. Uncle wants the current database and he thinks Nick might be keeping it on his hard drive." "You're kidding?" Cousin Laurie stared at him. "Information sensitive? Anybody with half a brain would keep it on diskette, in a steel safe sunk in concrete." They looked at one another, then smiled. "It's on the hard drive!" they chorused. Cousin John headed across the living room. "Watch the table with the--" "Ouch!" "--Cross on it," finished Laurie, as she heard him mutter beneath his breath. Leaning down to pick up another mail sack, she snarled, "Yeah, we get the back-breaking work and he gets to look for the laptop." "Wonder what made Nick think he could get away with stealing Uncle's mail?" mused Cousin Margaret. She plopped down on the floor and started shoving the mail into the bag, helter-skelter. Cousin Laurie followed her lead and dropped to her knees, scooping the envelopes into her own bag. "That's just it--he didn't 'think.' Never has. Why should he start now?" She paused a moment and shook her head. "I can't believe he was ever a Cousin." Margaret stared at her, then nodded. "Never thought of it that way before. Janette, yeah. But Nick?" "Found it!" came a cry from upstairs. In the dim light, they saw Cousin John come bounding down the stairs from the upper floor, a laptop computer clutched beneath his arm. "Right out in the open. You'd think a cop would know better. You know what I'd give to have something like this at work?" "We talking about Nick," said Cousin Laurie. Picking up another empty bag, she tossed it at him--it caught on the edge of the laptop. "Join the fun. Uncle wants all of this stuff." "You don't think maybe that's overkill?" asked Cousin Margaret. "After all, how many of these are his?" "That's the point," explained Cousin Laurie. "I think he wants to teach Nick a lesson. And when we're talking about Uncle . . . overkill doesn't really apply." Cousin John put down the laptop on the couch and picked up the remote control, then pointed it toward the stereo. "As long as we're here--anyone mind if I turn on Uncle's show? They don't carry it on my local stations." "As long as you keep it low," warned Cousin Laurie. "We want to be able to hear the car horn if Cousin Sandye spots Nick or anyone else in the neighborhood." It took them over an hour to stuff all the mail into the bags and lug them down to the station wagon Uncle had provided for them. When they arrived at the warehouse, LaCroix was standing to one side of the open delivery doorway. He pulled the door closed behind them after they drove inside. Getting out of the car was as difficult as having fit inside it in the first place, what with the large mail bags taking up the entire back and rear seat. LaCroix waited, opening the car door for Cousin Sandye, as she was behind the wheel and the only one not to fall out when a door was opened. Then he turned to Cousin Margaret and Cousin Laurie. "You've gotten all of it?" " letter," said Cousin Margaret happily, with a wave toward the mail bags in the car. "It was on the living room floor." "Spread all over the living room floor," corrected Cousin Laurie. LaCroix raised an eyebrow and smiled. "I would have thought as much." He took the laptop computer offered to him by Cousin John. "Very good. Download it to the new system. I want these files sent to Lisa . That one seems adept at digging up odd facts, I've asked her to coordinate the creation of a main database." "For what?" asked Cousin Laurie, as Cousin John took back the computer and headed toward a pile of boxes at one end of the warehouse. "And how come you're here? We heard you on the radio as we were driving over." "The wonders of modern technology--tape delay. It should keep Nicholas guessing as to my whereabouts, at least for a little while." LaCroix headed over toward a long table, with several wheeled laundry carts crowded around it. "You'll sort the letters over here," he explained. Cousin Laurie cleared her throat to get his attention. "And then what?" LaCroix turned a cold gaze toward her. "You're certainly full of questions tonight." He seemed to ignore her momentary lapse. "Once they're sorted, I want all the letters opened. John can enter the information into the database, once he's sent what Nicholas has so kindly donated to us onto Lisa. That should prepare you adequately." "This--this is another war, isn't it?" asked Cousin Sandye. "It seem that way, doesn't it?" LaCroix's smile was sharp. "Actually, it's more in the way of a . . . recruitment drive. Contact all of my 'misplaced' followers and give them my instructions--I want you to turn as many of the others' followers to our side, as quickly as you can." He eyed each of them in turn. "I know it's asking to go against your natural instincts for torment and torture, but step softly first. Flatter, blackmail, bribe, use all of the persuasive powers at your command." "And if that doesn't work?" asked Cousin Margaret. It was obvious from her grin that she already knew the answer. "Scare them silly," responded LaCroix, just as cheerfully. "But remember--" he placed a hand on Sandye's shoulder, "to be careful. I don't want to lose any players time. I want them turned, not turned away. Make them come to realize that their only safety will lie in joining us." Cousin Laurie walked over to one of the carts. "Are you talking about the Knighties? Or the Nat Pack? Or the FOD's?" "Or the Die-hards?" added Cousin Margaret. "They'll be tough--they can't make up their minds in the first place." "All of them," answered LaCroix. "Even the Ravenettes and Ravens?" asked Cousin Sandye. "Because . . . well, they're already part of the package, so to speak." LaCroix paused, eyeing her thoughtfully. "Yes, even them. I don't trust Janette, she's up to something. Make them targets and maybe she'll think twice about whatever she's got planned." He pointed at Sandye. "And no games this time. My authority can't be seen to be questioned. Which means you take your orders from me. And--" he looked at Laurie, "there'll be no repeat of that last escapade." His eyes had gone gold. And even if they hadn't, there was enough of a snarl in his voice to tell them that his fangs were down--Uncle meant business. The three Cousins shook their heads in assent, not trusting their voices. "Good. Very good." Rubbing his hands together, he sighed, then added, "I've one more thing to do before sunrise. Carry on, then. And . . . make me proud." The 'or else' was unspoken. But each one of the Cousins gulped, even Cousin John, who was sitting at the other end of the garage. And their united chorus of, "Yes, Uncle," left nothing in doubt. --- continued in part 4 ----------- -----------------------Monday, July 4th------------------------- ---------------------------------------------------------------- Date: Sun, 3 Jul 1994 15:04:00 EDT From: Laurie Salopek Subject: Applications --4 The Beginning of the End Application Forthcoming [Monday, July 4th, pre-dawn] Part 4 of 4 --- Natalie smacked Nick hard on the shoulder as she followed him out of the elevator and into the loft. "That was !" she chided, although she had to raise her hand afterward to wipe the tears of laughter from her eyes. Nick grinned back at her over his shoulder. "It wasn't my fault. Myra was on line one and the witness from the massage parlor murder was on line two." "You mixed them up deliberately." "Could have happened to anybody." Still, his grin was anything but innocent. Natalie swatted him again and Nick shifted out of the way, then got a chair between them, moving to one side, then the other as if daring her to try and catch him. Throwing up her hands, she turned her back on him and laughed again. Not only had Nick managed to get Schanke confused at to which line was which, he'd eventually patched all three lines together in a conference call. Sighing, Natalie touched her fingertips to her forehead and bit back the laughter that threatened to erupt every time she remembered the look on Schanke's face, as he tried to recover any part of either conversation. She'd call Myra tomorrow and blame it all on Nick, but for now, Schanke was no doubt in some pretty hot water at home. "Oh . . . no," said Nick softly, from behind her. Natalie turned. Nick was standing in front of his couch, looking at the floor. Just staring at it. He started walking around the couch, even picked up the end with one hand and lifted it up in the air--Natalie made a mental note to invite him over the next time she wanted to vacuum under her couch--then put it down again. "What's wrong?" He looked up at her, his panicked expression very quickly going blank. He forced a smile. "Um, nothing. I can, uh, handle it." It wasn't 'nothing,' she could tell that by the way he turned even paler than usual. Which was pretty damned pale. "Nick--?" There was enough of a warning note in her voice to let him know that he'd better explain . . . and fast. His eyes still on the floor, he walked around the room. "You know--well, I guess you've noticed that your mail's been kind of slow, lately." Natalie frowned. "Yeah. I meant to ask you about that. Has Janette gotten too busy to handle it? I figured you were right, people go on vacation and all--" "No," said Nick quickly. He met her gaze. "Janette kind of dumped it all on me. I've been trying to get it sorted." " been handling the mail?" asked Natalie, astonished. "Nick, your hours are hell as it is. You've got a full time job, you never sleep when you're supposed to . . . what right does Janette have to dump all that on you." "She never volunteered for it in the first place," admitted Nick. "And it was only a matter of time before she got bored with it. She--she threatened to send everything to LaCroix if I didn't take care of it." "But you don't have that kind of free time." "Tell me about it," he muttered, leaning down to peer beneath the coffee table. "I thought about asking you, see if you'd be able to--" He cleared his throat as he peered up at her, then quickly turned his gaze to the underside of the coffee table again. "But I thought better of it." Natalie forced a smile. "Smart boy." "I had it all here. It was about three weeks worth. I was going to get around to it tonight--this morning." He plopped down on the couch and threw up his hands. "Really!" He looked so forlorn that Natalie couldn't help but smile. She sat down beside him and patted his shoulder. "It's okay--I'll give you a hand with it. Who needs sleep, right?" She looked around the room and seeing nothing that even resembled a stamp, gestured toward the stairs. "It's up there, right?" "It's gone." A cold chill went through her at his words, but she shook it off quickly, fixing him with an even, disbelieving stare. "What's gone?" "The mail. It's gone." He gestured toward the floor. "It was . When I left this evening, it was all over the floor. And now it's not here." "Maybe Janette came by and cleaned up the mess?" When he stared at her blankly, Natalie looked away. "Okay, stupid idea. But maybe she came by and picked it up?" "No," said Nick, shaking his head, "I'd know if she'd been here." That cold chill was back and she cleared her throat. "Uh, you don't think--?" "No." He answer was just as certain, but more forceful. Nick pushed himself up off the couch and began to pace. "If LaCroix had been here, I'd have known. No. He wasn't here. Unless . . . ." Nick's gaze went past her, to the kitchen, then he glanced around, as if looking for something. In a blur of motion, he moved to the remote, which was over by the stereo. "What?" asked Natalie. In answer, Nick clicked on the stereo. "It's set to the station LaCroix's on." "You . . . don't listen to his show, do you?" she asked. "Not if I have a choice." Nick raised the remote to his lips and looked over to the refrigerator again. His answer hadn't really been an answer, but Natalie decided to let the matter drop, for the moment. "It was ," said Nick softly, after a moment, his eyes still on the refrigerator door. "The Cousins. He sent them after the mail." "That's breaking and entering," said Natalie quickly. "LaCroix has a key." "He has a . . . oh." She decided to let that one slide as well. "Well, it's at least. After all, if he's been getting his own mail--" There was something in Nick's expression that changed just enough to let her know that something wasn't right. She was getting good at recognizing those little quirks, after all this time. "He been getting his mail, hasn't he?" Nick still wouldn't look at her. Putting the remote atop the edge of the couch, he swallowed. "No." "You mean, he's been getting his mail late, too?" "I mean . . . I haven't been sending on LaCroix's mail." "Oh, Nick!" Sighing, Natalie leaned back against the couch. "I can't believe you'd--God, of he'd come after the mail, once he'd figured it out." Nick leaned down at the side of the couch, meeting her eye level. "I know--it was dumb. But I thought maybe I could do something to stop him from hurting anyone else. I thought maybe I could warn them, let them know what they were getting into." She reached out a hand to touch his cheek. "That's their choice to make. They have free will. It's not up to you to watch over them every minute of the day, or watch over LaCroix, for that matter." When he turned his face away, she leaned toward him, resting her head on his shoulder. "I know why you did it. And I admire you for wanting to save them from what you went through. But . . . you're right. That was dumb." Then Natalie sat up straight. "Anything else missing?" she asked briskly. If they were going to solve this thing, she had to get Nick out of the self-pity mode and into action. It seemed to work. He rose to his feet and looked around --thank heavens for vampire memory! After a second, he shook his head, then headed for the stairs to the second floor. "Let me check upstairs." "All right." Natalie rose to her feet as well, then saw him pause on the stairs. "What?" He gestured toward the refrigerator. "Could you check--uh--" He swallowed, then met her eyes. "After last time, I don't want to take any chances." "Sure." Natalie walked into the kitchen and over to the refrigerator. She opened the door and took a step back, before peering inside. There were three bottles, all properly corked. They okay . . . . She took one of the bottles out of the refrigerator and tried to pull out the cork, but it was in for good. Shaking her head, she replaced the bottle--no Nick used his teeth. No mortal could have uncorked or recorked a bottle that well. For a second, she paused, leaning against the refrigerator door. How the hell had Nick expected her to tell the difference between cow blood and the human blood it had been switched with the last time? Taste it? Making a face, she shuddered. Natalie walked back across the room. She'd never really let those little maniacs know how angry she'd been at them for what had happened to Nick. It had been weeks before he'd been himself again. Of course, there'd been a truce of sorts at the end of everything, but Natalie didn't think it was all that fair. Nor did she understand how those people could follow LaCroix. Or Janette, for that matter--all the vampiress did was drink, smoke, and flirt, which was hardly a lifestyle worth emulating . . .although she'd admit, if pressed, that it would make a hell of a vacation every now and again. The FODs and the people who followed Nick, that she could understand. Even her own fans, who were actually friends . . . but follow LaCroix, after the hell he'd put Nick through all these centuries? She looked up when she heard a yell from upstairs. Nick appeared in the bedroom doorway--she wasn't certain whether he was more angry or afraid. "The laptop's gone," he explained, hurrying down the stairs. "You've got a back-up of your drive, don't you?" When he didn't answer at first, Natalie walked up to him and punched his arm lightly. " you?" "Yeah, but it's about two weeks old." He walked away from her, then walked back toward her again. "I was so busy with the mail, I didn't get a chance--Nat, the database was on there!" "All the names and addresses, all the application information? You left the database on your hard drive?" It took a moment for the scope of the problem to sink in. Then Natalie frowned. "LaCroix has the database?" He flinched and she realized that she'd almost hit him. Slowly, Natalie unclenched her fist and turned her back to Nick. "Okay, let's be calm about this. LaCroix has the mail. And the database. But we've got a back-up--" "Two weeks old." "But it's still a back-up." Natalie turned to face him. "Okay, so this time we don't sit back and wait until LaCroix's little hellions trash everything and everyone. He's got a lot of people under his thumb, but between my friends, the FODs, your friends, and the Ravens and Ravenettes, we outnumber them." "What are you suggesting?" "That we provide a solid front against them. You talk to Janette, see where she stands in all this, if she'll bother getting her ass off that bar stool." Natalie stalked away, toward the phone. "I'll call Sharon. Valerie's busy with that play--damn!--well, maybe she can help us after all." But Nick was there before her, his hand on the phone. "No," he said softly, when she looked up at him. Bewildered, Natalie stared. "What?" "I won't drag all those people into this. This is between LaCroix and me." "The hell it is!" protested Natalie. "Yeah, he owes you for holding back his mail, but he stepped over the line when he took the database and mail." When Nick didn't release the phone, she glared up at him. "There are plenty of phones in the world, Nick. You can't keep me away from all of them." "All right." He pulled back his hand with a frown and gestured towards the phone. "Go ahead. But I won't be a part of this. I never asked for followers. I don't want the responsibility for them." "Fine." Natalie caught herself before she mumbled under her breath that Nick didn't want the responsibility for . She headed toward the loft elevator, but turned toglare back at him. "I m not sitting in the grandstand this time. Tell Janette what I said--about forming a united front? That's the least you can do." "Okay," he relented, after a moment's pause. Then he started toward the elevator. "Nat, don't be angry with me--" "Sorry, Nick. No time. We're in the middle of a war now. And it looks like it's up to me to prevent more casualties." She let the door slide shut and took a step back asthe elevator descended. Her hand moved of its own accord to the button--she almost pushed it again, almost went back to the loft to tell him that she understood, that he was forgiven. But he wasn't. And she didn't. It was time Nick took responsibility for his actions. And he was wrong about the Knighties--they weren't fanatic vampire wanna-be's like the Cousins or the Ravens and Ravenettes, who, if truth be told, were really kind of low-key, laid-back vampire wanna-be's. These people were friends, followers. Sooner or later he'd figure it out and come around. But it couldn't wait. She'd told Nick the truth--this time, she wasn't going to let LaCroix's henchpeople run roughshod over the others. And if it meant some serious parleying with the other groups without Nick's help and taking the leadership role in this, then so be it. After all, somebody had to. Even if that somebody was just a forensic pathologist, who'd never smelled gunpowder outside of the residue on a bullet wound, or deflected a charge more serious than Sidney's attack on her plants when he'd gotten just a little too high on his annual birthday catnip. Leaving the elevator, Natalie straightened her shoulders proudly. Yes, by God, she'd make it happen. She'd get these people together and they'd face down LaCroix's loonies. That's why she strolled quickly to her car, steps steady, eyes straight ahead. And that's why she didn't look up at the loft windows, to see if Nick was still watching. Because some part of her might have realized what a lunatic thing she was doing and sent her straight to her travel agent, for a ticket on the next plane out to Barbados. --- ----------- Date: Sun, 3 Jul 1994 15:39:37 -0500 From: Anne Elk Subject: Shades of Grey Shades of Grey The names were all there. He put the disk in and read the file marked Knighties. For whatever reason, the truce had been broken, and now it was up to him to make sure that this time, the war would not rage endlessly on as it had before. "There can be only one....and this time, it might as well be me." The printer kicked out the last of the letters, and in those final hours before morning, a small, yet decisive action would serve to mark the beginning of the end of the war. That is if his calculations were correct. He had been burned before underestimating these mortals; what if they took the law into their own hands, so to speak, and became the self-aggrandizing fools they had been before? It was a chance he had to take. The distinctions between good and evil were not always black and white. Perhaps those who took the other path were not as they appeared. Perhaps this message would prevent disaster. Perhaps it might break it all to pieces... ----------------------------- Knighties: ...These are dangerous times. I know that you have been loyal in the past, your dedication to the principles I live by is heartwarming. Now I am forced to ask you to answer the call of your convictions. There are some among you who have chosen to discard their better judgement and follow the enemy. We must root them out, at any cost, for they are the very reason that we are now at risk. What I have uncovered could change the balance of power, but I need your help. Trust no one. Wait for my instructions and when they come, do not deviate from them. He will try to convince you that he knows best, that he has intentions that are noble and fair. Do not surrender your good sense to these lies. I shall contact you when the time is right. Until then...I shall remain...Nick Knight --------------- The messenger was gone before the first light of dawn. Looking up toward the shaded skylight, he sighed and wondered what the night would bring. "It has begun." Cousin Sandye-rah.....Cwningen --------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Mon, 4 Jul 1994 02:22:54 EDT From: Sharon Himmanen Subject: FK Wars 2 Assignment: KNIGHTIES (with apologies to Susan Garrett for the title) "I'm calling about two things," Nat said. "Let me guess, one of them is about the war," Sharon said sarcastically. "How'd you know?" "Lucky guess. The list has been rumbling with it for a while now. Figures, my talk is less than a month away--I have better things to do with my time--" "Yes, we know you're a basket case about this talk. But you'll do fine. You always do." "Yeah, well, we'll see." "All right, listen. You had the right idea last time. You didn't want to around waiting for them to come get you. I know, at the time, I thought you were being stupid. But I was wrong. This has gotten out of hand. I know you tried to work with the Knighties last time. Want to give it another shot?" "Oh, geez, Nat! They're as wishy-washy as Nick! Can't you get Valerie--" "Valerie is busy with a play right now." "Oh, but giving a talk at ASP--" "Sharon . . . " "Not to mention the 6-item paper--" "Sharon . . ." Nat said a little more loudly. "Plus my dissertation--" "Stop whining!" Nat commanded sharply. "You said you were in this thing! You can't back out now!" There was a long silence on the other end of the line. "Besides," Nat pressed, "You owe me!" Sharon let out a short laugh. "Excuse me?" "I did *not* appreciate that necrophilia crack you made on-list the other day. And changing your mind about it doesn't get you off the hook. Not by a long shot!" "All right, all right. I apologize for that one, although you *know* what I meant by it." She paused and sighed. "OK, exactly what's happened here?" Nat quickly related everything Nick had told her, adding that all the applications and the database had been stolen by the cousins. "*All* that information is in the hands of LaCroix." "Well, mine isn't so much of a problem," Sharon said. "What do you mean?" "I . . . kind of . . . lied on my application." "You *what*?" "Oh, come on! You think I'm going to put that kind of stuff in *writing*? Where it's permanent? I *knew* something like this would happen. Only, I kind of figured LaCroix would intimidate it out of Janette. I didn't figure on her turning it over to Nick." "You *lied* on your application?" "Only parts. I figured you'd *know* and figure out why I did it." "Wow," Nat said softly. "You lied on your application." "I take it you never saw it." "No, Nick was really behind. You're probably on the back-up of the database, though. Yours has been around since last time." Nat sighed. "All right, I want you to work with the Knighties, all right? Find out what kind of resources they have, whether they can work together, whether they want to join forces, that sort of thing. It's hard to say what kind of tricks the cousins have up their sleeves, especially now that they have all that information. But all the groups together outnumber them. Try to convince them that we should all work together." "What are you going to do?" "Try to coordinate things here. Maybe talk to Janette." Nat had her doubts that Nick would come through, even on that. "Hah! And I was complaining about the Knighties! Good luck there! You actually want her to pick a *side*?" "Yeah, well, it's worth a shot. Oh, and one more thing." "What's that?" "Who else from our group can we count on? You might need some help." "I have absolutely no idea, Nat. Valerie is *that* busy?" "I'm sure she can be persuaded to help out, especially after I remind her of how busy *you* are and that you're doing your part." "Like I had a choice," Sharon grumbled under her breath. "And keep in touch. Something tells me they're going to be much more subtle this time. If you get in over your head I want you to yell for help, got it? "Yeah, well the same goes for you too!" Sharon sat back and stared at the phone thoughtfully. Then she shook her head. The Knighties! Hoping that Nat had a damn good plan in mind for if and when she managed to contact Nick's fans, Sharon turned on the computer and got down to work . . . o-----------------o---------------------------------------------- ---o | Sharon Himmanen | shihc@cunyvm.cuny.edu * romana@aol.com | | Nat Pack | s.himmanen@genie.geis.com | o-----------------o---------------------------------------------- ---o | "But I'm warning you, if this is monkey pee, you're on your own." | | --Dana Scully | o---------------------------------------------------------------- ---o ----------- Date: Tue, 5 Jul 1994 08:33:21 EDT From: Pamela Rush Subject: 10:00 AM, MONDAY, JULY 4 10:00 AM, Monday, July .... "Pamela..." "Hmmm?" "The cream's off." "Prob'ly 'cause you stand there with the door open all day long." "The carton wasn't even opened yet." "Use milk." * * * "Pa-a-a-m?" "What!" "The milk is sour!" "Well, I didn't do it!" "Pam?" "John, I *am* trying to watch 'Curse of the Werewolf' here, if you don't mind?" "Do we have any evaporated milk?" "Think about it. If *you* were evaporated milk, where would you go?" "Oh." Sounds of tins and bottles overturning in the pantry. Sound of a vacuum tab pull popping. Sound of a bewildered husband clomping down the hall to the living room.... "Pam?" "Yeah?" "The *evaporated* milk is bad, too." "Evaporated milk doesn't go.... Wait a minute," she looked thoughtful for a moment. "Did you check the sour cream?" "I don't want sour cream in my coffee. No, I didn't check...." John was speaking to air as Pam bounded gracefully past him towards the kitchen. By the time he caught up with her, Pam had three or four refrigerator cartons and containers open on the counter. "Yep. Sour cream is curdled; yoghurt's gone; cottage cheese is off; butter is rancid....Ohmygod," she scrambled frantically in the crowded shelves for a tall, glass jar, but gave a sigh of relief after opening it, "...no, the humus is Ok. It's only dairy products. A classic sign...." "Sign? Sign of what?" "Oh, its a classic omen of, uh, well, *IF* I were superstitious -- which I'm *not* -- I'd say that it's a classic omen of deviltry afoot, evil abroad in the land, that sort of thing." "Deviltry? Like, hmm, what? What! You mean black magic and that kinda stuff?" "Well, evil incarnate, anyway. Whatever...." "Oh brother. Does this have anything to do with all that goofy fan stuff you and Sher get involved in?" "No, no. Of course not. It's just a silly coincidence. Here, put some marshmallow fluff in your coffee." "Won-der-ful. Listen, should I be taking any precautions? I mean, besides the usual precautions for *your* friends?" "I have no idea what you're talking about." "I mean, like the time all those Daleks showed up, or the time the Klingons came to breakfast, or the time...." "Nah. It's nothing like that. Yuck, that looks awful; let's go out for brunch and have some cappuccino." "Good idea," John responded, staring at the sullen lumps of marshmallow fluff floating in his coffee, "I'll change." A moment later, Pamela stood alone in the kitchen, thoughtfully regarding the line up of spoiled dairy products. Pensively, she tasted the humus again, then checked the taramosalata and the leftover moussaka; they were fine. Suddenly, she grinned and turned to the line of cookbooks above the microwave and ran a finger along the titles until she pulled out _Gilroy Garlic Festival; the Garlic Lovers' Greatest Hits_. She started to browse the CONTENTS with enthusiasm. Maybe she ought to call Sher, just in case. And Merle, and Cal and Don.... "Goddamned creatures of the night," she muttered, "They never learn!" <..to be continued> ----------- Date: Tue, 5 Jul 1994 11:49:00 EDT From: LizBeth258@AOL.COM Subject: FK Wars2: The Rabbit Hazel was pouting. This was not unusual, considering that New Hampshire had been awash in 90-degree heat for the entire July 4 weekend. At least one reporter, namely me, had been running all over the southern half of the state to catch a midnight parade here and a noon fire muster there. *God, sometimes I wonder if being a reporter is WORTH this much trouble,* I thought as I loaded my microwave breakfast in to the radioactive monster to heat. But this pouting spell was different. The rabbit would usually stretch herself out and pant while pouting about the heat. This time, Hazel was bunched in a furry ball DESPITE the heat. Top it off with a black-eyed glare and what I had on my hands was one angry rabbit. Food was fine. Water was fine. A carrot maybe? Nope. Turned up her nose at the carrot, too. Hmmmm. Fine. I'll just let her pout. I signed on and checked my mailbox. Well. This was interesting. FK-FIC had some new stories. I opened one. Uh-oh. I think I know why Hazel's furious with the world. I went into the living room, where the rabbit had gone from mere pouting to a full-fledged bunny sulk. I cleared my throat, feeling slightly stupid as I did so. "Are you trying to tell me that the war's on?" Hazel gave me this look as if to say, "It's about bloody time!" She hopped into her hutch, a.k.a. her den, laid out and promptly fell asleep. What I wouldn't give to have that rabbit's sources. She probably belongs to "Uncle." Well I don't. I'd changed sides after the last war from the Knighties to the Ravenettes. I'm wondering if this switch, coupled with my involvement in the Warren in the last war was going to make me a more vulnerable target or somehow less trustworthy than the others. I decided the better part of valor was to carry on with my life as if nothing was wrong and await instructions. I had no doubt that Janette was not going to allow for the interesting cross-pollination that occurred last time. I was just wondering whether she was going to sit it out and give the winning side a last minute boost or if she was going to make allies. Or even more frightening. Get involved so she'd be the last one standing. *Sigh.* Nothing to do but wait and watch. Oh. And keep tabs on the rabbit. Lord knows what Hazel has up her little furry paws. -----------> Liz-Hazel throws her hat in. (whimper) lizbeth258@aol.com ----------- Date: Tue, 5 Jul 1994 11:54:00 EDT From: "Asst. Listowner" Subject: Finally.. Something on the FTP Site Laurie knocked on Sandye's door. A muffled voice from the other side queried, "Who's there?" "Only me." "Just a minute." It wasn't the first occasion where her timing was bad and Sandye would have wished for the knock at a different hour, but Laurie was anxious to tell Sandye the news. "Scott emailed me the password for the FTP site and I have finally started putting stuff on it." Laurie said as she followed Sandye's shuffling feet into the living room. "One drawback is Scott said to keep it around 20-30 Megs of stuff. I guess that is better than nothing." "True. Where is the site?" "Oh, cool address ftp.cac.psu.edu. Only he created it as my own personal directory so it is in /pub but you have to go to /people/lms5 to get the files." "Anonymous access?" "Yeppers! This is great! Susan gave me a bunch of gifs from Sharon H and as soon as I get her permission I will put them on the site." Sandye leaned back into the sofa cushions. "Have you put anything at the site yet?" "Yes, I made up a bunch of .WAV files for an IBM this weekend. Log on and I will show you have to retrieve them using an anonymous id." They both got up walked over to Sandye's computer in the dining room and turned it on. ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Tue, 5 Jul 1994 12:28:14 EDT From: SelmaMc@AOL.COM Subject: Random Correspondence Selma crowed in delight as the results from the psuvm listserv came back, indicating that, once again, AOL had outgoing service. It was frustrating that for the entire Independence day weekend she couldn't get anything out. She'd heard that the war was ready to start, or rather, restart soon. She was, of course, worried. Hilary, her friend, was still catching up on her email (since her server had been down for the last month) and would not be of much use until she did. She decided that she needed to talk to someone, to share in strategies in case the war was as soon as it seemed. But who could she talk to? She didn't know any other Knighties (other than Hilary). Maybe, she thought, someone from another group would be good to talk to. Of the other groups, she was the most sympathetic to the NatPack. Besides, they'd shown a more cohesive front than her own group during the last war. She checked her recent forkni digests for members of that group. The first one she found was Sharon Himmanen, who had her affiliation in her .sig. She decided to try her. She pasted the address at the top to the To: field, fixed it to send to a bitnet address, and started typing. To: SHIHC%CUNYVM.BITNET@PSUVM.PSU.EDU Subject: The Surely-Upcoming Wars Hi! I noticed your sig and wondered if you knew what was going on? I've heard rumors that we're going to have trouble again soon. However, I'm a little out of touch, so I'd appreciate any info you could give me. If the war is coming up, this time I think some of our groups should ally. What do you think? Selma * + * . * Selma McCrory (Knightie) selmamc@aol.com . . * * . ------------- Then she sent a note to Hilary: To: CATMCLAH@central1.library.uq.oz.au Subject: Me again I've made a move. Details later. BL, Selma ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Tue, 5 Jul 1994 13:59:38 18000 From: Valerie Meachum Subject: FKWars2: Living up to the Name Valerie sat in her cozy little cubicle at BalletMet, which felt considerably less little after the recent removal of piles and piles of things that she had discovered ought to have been thrown out months before she had started. Confidence bolstered by a workspace that finally felt like it was hers, she logged in to check her mail, knowing the war had been scheduled to begin during the holiday weekend, which she had spent at a family reunion in Michigan merrily collecting data to feed to her genealogy software. "A zillion Summer Workshop kids invading downstairs, except the two I agreed to pick up at the airport this afternoon, Tori Amos concert tonight, setting up the database for the new fiscal year...and a war," she muttered to herself, causing her co-worker Lisa in the next cubicle to look at her funny. Understandable, she supposed. "Well, it never rains but it pours..." She felt prepared for the war to begin, or at least as prepared as she was likely to get; but that didn't mean she was up for any pre-emptive strikes. That was a good part of what had prompted her defection from the Cousins to the Nat Pack in the last war, after all; but a decisive action of some sort was still called for. What could be considered appropriate? A quick run down to the pop machine provided her with the answer. There, among the various articles of clothing hanging in the Academy's little gift shop, was the most adorable oversized T-shirt she had seen in ages: "The Five Basic Positions", demonstrated in delightful Tenniel-style drawings that could almost have come straight from _Alice in Wonderland_, though the black-and-white ballerina wore distinctly modern practice attire. Demonstrated by an incongruously-graceful, pleasantly-smiling, Wonderland-appropriate...frog. "Yes, I think it's time to go to work on our and our allies' weaknesses," Valerie told herself. "I know a Knightie in need of a little humor therapy...it's *got* to work!" In short order, the shirt was packaged up and on its way to Texas, accompanied by a cheerful handwritten note: Sharon-- Remember, it's all in your mind! Wear it in good health, armor against the Cousins' machinations. Tell yourself they'll never get you that way again!!! --The Prima Ballerina of the Father Time Boogie and NatPack Rehab Officer... --- Of course, the distinct possibility remained that Sharon Scott would be a wee bit annoyed with her for this, but that was a chance she had to take. After all, nobody said this was going to be easy... ;-) -- The Bad Penny * Valerie Lynn Meachum "Some American said, 'I want to make a bad movie in Canada. Everyone else has.'" ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Tue, 5 Jul 1994 13:24:54 -0600 From: John Dencoff Subject: FKWars2: Cousin John considers lunch He sighed heavily as he finished downloading the last of Nick's hard-drive onto numerous backup disks. In a moment, his macros would be altering the files to a more appropriate format for his own use. Uncle would be proud...soon all the Cousins would have everyone's affiliations, and they could use them to attack at will. Five more seconds, and his lovely little mailer-daemons would be sending copies of the list to all of LaCroix's "agents". John wasn't too enthralled about having a second war, especially since the last one had ended in a stalemate. He preferred ironic traps...and, of course, winning at all costs! LaCroix, his Master, was good at trapping poor Nicholas. The bitter nature of such confrontations was too delightful not to miss! He tapped his fingers on Nick's laptop that they had stolen. Worth more than he was paid in three months, at least...and yet Nick hadn't even used a tenth of its capabilities or power. It was almost like Nick had used it only as a typewriter, and to occasionally save various police files. Whomever had bought it for him must've known computers. The name "Merlin" popped into mind, a name John had heard once at the Raven...but he didn't know this person that well. "Oh well...it's in *my* hands now," he thought wickedly. "And I *do* know how to use this baby!" This thing could be used to trace passwords and activate hidden commands long-distance, what with all the software this "Merlin" person installed. Maybe this War could offer a little entertainment after all... Suddenly, he started thinking about food. It was at least three hours past lunch, and he was starving. "Gods, almost like one of those FoD people!" he mused. Uncle had promised the Cousins that the Warren wouldn't be coming back this time...so maybe he could take a quick break for lunch.... Warren....hmmm....I know! I think I'll have *rabbit* stew! Heh, heh! "Didn't one of those goody-goody's own some kind of rabbit or something?" he thought. "Yessss....a little rabbit might be just the thing to hit the spot right now!" Cousin John started looking through the files, so wonderfully cross-matched with everyone's affiliations and greatest fears...."mmmm! mmmmm!" he thought! Cousin John Emperor of Harpsichords jdencoff@polaris.unm.edu ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Tue, 5 Jul 1994 20:33:52 -0500 From: Brian Gerstel Subject: FKWars2: P.C. Phone Home! It had been Merlin's ploy. If Nick or any of the Knighties had known what the computer wizard was up to, they *wouldn't* have been able to keep a proper front up during the Cousins' break-in. ("That's the problem with being a good guy," Merlin had chided Nick before. "You're a lousy liar.") But as soon as Merlin learned that the laptop had been stolen, he had called Nick. "I hear the Cousins stole your laptop last night?" Nick's reply was a wordless sound of pure misery. "Hey Nick, remember? This is *Merlin* talking. When you asked me to set your computer up right, I did. I *knew* you'd leave all your files on the hard drive, so I put a little extra security feature in that system I designed for you. Whenever that computer is taken outside your loft and turned on, it runs fine for a while, then starts up a program that displays a full-screen picture of Barney and sings all his songs in as cute a voice as a computer can muster. That also happens if the database program is copied and run on any other machine" Nick laughed, some of his old humor returning. "But that's not the best part. While whoever-it-is is hacking and slashing away, trying to clean that thing off all the files, the cellular modem I built in to the system silently dials into my computer and alerts me. So in a couple hours, Nick, you'll have the location of your missing computer. And, if you're really lucky, a Cousin to arrest and interrogate." Nick smiled knowingly to himself. "What'll I owe you now, Merlin?" "Oh, most of this was covered by what you paid me for the system in the first place. But if you could, grab all the disks you can find at that Cousin's hideout. LaCroix and a few of the other old-timers have been using a new code lately, and you could save me weeks of work." *Now* Nick understood. Larry Merlin was less than a century old -- practically a baby in the eyes of vampires like LaCroix. He hated their condescension, and took any opportunity he could to play elaborate jokes on them. Nothing to make them forget how useful he was, mind you -- just enough to keep them wondering. (Nick had been the victim of a few of Merlin's pranks himself, being almost 800 years old, but had shown the good sense to laugh at them, and to play along with the gag. One day, Merlin's pranks might turn truly malicious, and he preferred to stay on the young vampire's good side.) "What are you going to do to them this time, Merlin?" "That would spoil all the fun, Nick... Just be prepared to fly on a moment's notice; I'll call you as soon as your errant notebook yells for help." Brian Gerstel |"And every now and then gerstel@underground.irhe.upenn.edu| A bird would not fly by Sibling, Really-Deep-Thinker, | And someone would look up and say Ectophile, and Knightie (*WHEW!*) | 'Huh? What wasn't that?'" Jane Siberry ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Tue, 5 Jul 1994 15:39:20 EDT From: Lisa McDavid Subject: FKwars2: Family Feud >From D020214@univscvm.csd.scarolina.edu Subject: Alexandra To: Beast666@COL.Com.ca I suppose you think this address is *funny*? Oh, yes, I found it at once. Your sense of humor is so predictable, darling. I'll bet you're still splitting your sides over whoopie cushions under the coffin linings. Look, I want Alexandra away from my brother Larry, and I want it as of last week. Poor Larry may be the world's greatest programming genius dead or undead, but when it comes to women he makes poor Nee-co-lah look positively ept. And I do blame you. You're the one who thought bringing her over was a good idea. Even Nick had more sense about that one. Lisa, who at least has sense enough to keep away from Dingbats, vampire or otherwise. Cousin Lisa (Probably on the wrong side of the blanket) Lisa McDavid d020214@univscvm (bitnet) d020214@univscvm.csd.scarolina.edu (internet) ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Tue, 5 Jul 1994 17:16:46 EDT From: Lisa McDavid Subject: FKwars2: Family Feud continues Over the years the rest of the staff at the University of South Carolina library had become inured to strange things happening in Lisa McDavid's vicinity. A few of the braver souls even admitted to knowing her. It must have been one of these who told the pair of visitors where to find the door to Technical Services. "Ms. McDavid?" hazarded one, cleverly reading the name plate that was perched tipsily on top of the Library of Congress classification schedules. Apparently the yelp as the woman at the desk frantically stabbed the suspend key was sufficient acknowledgement. "FBI," said the redheaded woman, proffering a leather-cased id. "I'm Special Agent Scully. This is Special Agent Muldur." "Ohmigawd, what's he done now?" Lisa couldn't get the quit key to work. She reached over and slapped the power button to off. "He, Ms. McDavid?" The other agent, a rangy man with a face more suited to an absent-minded junior member of the English faculty, looked puzzled. "It's no use playing games," the librarian answered bitterly. "What has Larry done? I'll give you one thing. At least you got my name right. The CIA's still varying between McDaniel and McDougal." She stood up, slowly and with no sudden moves. "It's all right. I don't have a gun and I wouldn't be stupid enough to draw it if I did. I just wondered if maybe we could borrow my boss's office for this? She won't be back until tomorrow." ----------------------------------------------------------------- --- From: D020214@univscvm.csd.scarolina.edu Subject: You Asked for it, Darling! To: Beast666@COL.Co.Com And I don't mean the last time you tried to hypnotize me, either. I'm sure it seemed like a wonderful idea to have poor, infatuated Larry lured into working against Nick? I suppose the Barmaid Bimbo Dingbat fed *him* that line about rape, too? If Alexandra ever said no in her life, it must have been when they were handing out brains behind the barn door. She was probably too busy in the hayloft. Anyway, for your information, Larry's revenge took the form of doctoring the security routines on both the laptop files and the copies in the Knighties' data base. Do you know what's going to happen when Cousin John plugs the infernal machine into his system and mails the thing to Cousin Sandye-Rah and her side-kick Dennis? Both their systems are going to be fully occupied with a five-hundred foot long gif of Barney in cape and fangs. It even prints in purple, orange and chartreuse if you have a color monitor. And guess what, dearest? It's got your addresses and your current alias as the place to comment! In fact, I had a visit a few hours ago from the FBI. I thought Larry'd merely diverted the phone number of the Arkansas Aggie Escort Service to the White House Private Quarters again, but that wasn't it at all. They wanted to talk about one of Larry's associates. A tall, distinguished gentleman (and I'm going to bill you for the damage to my dental work because I broke a filling trying not to laugh at that word applied to you) with a very short haircut. I said I didn't know anyone like that. Well, I don't, since you stopped bleaching your hair. But if Alexandra doesn't dump Larry *now* and my little brother isn't decanting himself from the first available night flight into Big Sister's loving arms by sunrise tomorrow, I swear on the Abarat I will regain my memory. I might even remember to tell Nat what you really did with the Abarat, in fact. Me Cousin Lisa (Probably on the wrong side of the blanket) Lisa McDavid d020214@univscvm (bitnet) d020214@univscvm.csd.scarolina.edu (internet) ----------------------------------------------------------------- --------- Date: Tue, 5 Jul 1994 16:53:38 -0600 From: John Dencoff Subject: Cousin John eats Barney for Lunch [part1/2]------------------- This was just *too* perfect, he thought, as he sent instructions off to the newbie. Some of these new Cousins were just too easy...but, then they did want to earn Uncle's favor. If he was lucky, he might be having some of that delicious rabbit stew for dinner...and if the newcomer followed instructions to the letter! *ping* *ping* *ping* *ping* *ping* *ping* *ping* He startled from his dream of tender pan-fry to the noise of Nick's laptop computer. Something was wrong, and his macros were distinctly unhappy about it. Irritated, he flipped open the laptop...to be greeted by a bouncy purple dinosaur. "Aaaiiigghh!" he yelped, remembering what had happened to poor Cousin Margaret during the last War. "I love *you*, you love *me*..." it chirped happily. "Oh, Gods, what the heck is this? Only someone truly evil could have thought of such torment!" His fingers flew across the keyboard, calling up various subroutines. Well, at least the virus wasn't transmitted out, he thought quietly...but how to purge the corruption...? "...We're a hap-pee fam-i-lee!..." it continued. "Lords, some genius must've done this! It's almost artful, in a sick and twisted sort of way." His subroutines were cracking under the virus, and he could barely keep up with it. Perhaps the only way to correct it now would be to re-boot the entire system, and use my virus-stomper to clear the saved files on the downloaded disks. Then the realization hit him: A few people might have been transmitted the virus before the warnings came through here and turned off the ftp. Ugh! And there's no way of telling who... Shock set in as he realized Uncle might have been one of the first to receive it... Quickly, he sent e-mail to Uncle and his children: From: Cousin John To: sublist #1: Enfants de LaCroix Everyone--do not read your address files yet. They may be corrupted with a dangerous computer virus, courtesy of Larry Merlin. Just delete anything that came from me within the past day. Sorry for the inconvenience. I'll have an un-corrupt version by this time tomorrow. CJ That ought to do it, he thought. Fortunately, everything was saved and could be run through his virus destroyer...but it would take time. [end of part 1]------------------------------------------------------------- Cousin John Emperor of Harpsichords jdencoff@polaris.unm.edu ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Tue, 5 Jul 1994 18:03:46 -0800 From: "S. Tanaquil Johnson" Subject: FKWars2: Affiliations >Date: Fri, 17 Jun 1994 20:11:00 EDT >Reply-To: Forever Knight TV show >Sender: Forever Knight TV show >From: Laurie Salopek >Subject: FK Wars Part Deux > >Could everyone who is planning on participating in the war please email me with your affiliation? > >Thanks, >Laurie Tanaquil gazed at the words on the screen in some dismay. She KNEW she should never have planned a vacation before the Wars. It was going to take days to finish reading through the June archives. Now here it was the Fourth of July weekend, the Wars had already started and she'd only just come across this message. Was it too late to join the fun? Hastily she switched out of Microsoft Word, started Eudora and chose New Message from the menu. To: lms5@psuvm.psu.edu From: sarajnsn@violet.berkeley.edu (S. Tanaquil Johnson) Subject: Affiliations Laurie, I only just came across this message in the June archives. I hope it's not too late. The harried graduate student stopped and chewed her lower lip anxiously. Surely it wouldn't do any good to send this now? According to the messages that were coming through, Lacroix's deluded minions had already stolen the database and... And her affiliation wasn't on it. And she had been about to make contact with one of those vipers who had the inexplicable perversity to be a follower of Lacroix! A slow smile spread across Tanaquil's face. Some people, seeing that smile, would have fled screaming from the room. They knew whereof they, er, screamed. *Think carefully, Sara*. Now, it was true that she had been indiscreet enough to send in that "Fan Club" application listing "Favorite Character". But, she hadn't quite been able to resist listing more than one name. And she had carefully posted a few messages before the war expressing some confusion between the NatPack and FOSSIL affiliations. That would help to muddy the waters. But most importantly, the Cousins had no idea that she was in any way involved in this war. That could prove... Useful. Nursing a cappuccino, Tanaquil pondered her next step. She was glad to see that Natalie was taking a fighting posture in this war. It was about time she wrote herself out of those "Help-Nick-I've-Got-A-Hypodermic-Needle-At-My-Neck" plots. And Sydney and his fans could be counted on to back her up, of course. But who were her *true* followers? There had been a lot of loyalty-switching going on. The Cousins were so absurdly predictable. They were hell-bent on going after the Knighties already, as if their Glorious Leader had had any success pursuing that policy in the last eight hundred years. It seemed Lacroix had learned as little about Nick since 1228 as Nick had learned about women. Janette? Janette was undoubtedly playing a very deep game indeed. Lacroix's sudden move against Nick had been just a little bit too -- opportune. Better wait until the NatPack made its move, and then make contact. In the meantime, she could check out the San Francisco-Toronto airfares. Perhaps Natalie's faction could use a mole at the Raven? This was going to be fun. S. Tanaquil Johnson "This is mine; that's mine,[etc.]; I'm claiming all this as mine ... except that bit. I don't want that bit. But all the rest of this is mine! Hey, this has been a good day! I've eaten five times, I've slept six times, and I made a lot of things mine! Tomorrow I'm going to see if I can have sex with something!" -- Cat in Red Dwarf ----------------------------------------------------------------- -------------- Date: Wed, 6 Jul 1994 03:50:44 -0500 From: Cousin Monica Subject: FKWAR2--The Newest Arrival [part 1 of 2] The Newest Arrival Monica stepped off of the plane and realized, all too late, that this was going to be no ordinary holiday. There they were, smiling with knowing eyes; what would Janette say....what was Monica thinking when she asked two cousins to pick her up from the airport? She mentally beat her head against a wall. Susan, a fellow Ravenette, who was standing between Laurie and Sandye, thought it strange that Monica would ask not one, but two cousins to meet her at the airport. Did she not fear for her life?...or at least for her safety? After picking up Monica's luggage at the baggage claim, they walked out to the parking lot. At Dennis's suggestion, Laurie and Susan had come in their own car. Obviously some game was afoot. Monica was only a car door away from knowing the truth. The ride to the apartment was pretty uneventful, but very informative. Sandye filled in all the details of the War's progress. Monica sat in contemplative silence while listening to Sandye's news. Though both Sandye and Laurie were cousins, they were very different. Monica had realized that early in the game. Laurie had started the first War, which had nearly escalated to the point of no return. Had it not been for Sandye and the Wicked Warren, peace, however tentative, might never have been restored. Now together, along with the other cousins, they had stolen the precious application files from Nick's loft. Monica might normally have felt contempt for such a heinous act, but after she realized what Janette had done -- virtually sacrificing them to LaCroix on the altar of Nick's incompetence -- her loyalties were wearing thin. [end of part 1 of 2]----------------------------------------------------- ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Tue, 5 Jul 1994 21:28:50 EDT From: Sylvia Colston Subject: FK WARS: coming down off of the fence Sylvia sat back in her chair with a thoughtful expression on her face. Evidently, she was still on Janette's database as a Ravenette, even though she had severed those ties recently. Before her was e-mail from Alma concerning a second war, and a call for the Ravenettes to gather. In her travels around the country, the Internet was one of the only constants. Every hospital was different, although nursing is the same everywhere, but the Internet was always there. Now, although in the past she had been a silent lurker, she felt the need to join in. Her hands were poised above the keyboard, ready to send mail to Alma expressing her regrets, when a thought struck her. After she picked herself up off of the floor and kicked the thought to death, she examined it. "Is it really a good thing to be unaffiliated during a conflict like this?" Killer the Terrier, the other constant in her life, was sniffing the thought when another one came winging through the air. Sylvia caught it before it could do any serious damage and looked at it closely. "Then again, do you really want to be a Ravenette? You sympathize more with Natalie, you like Schanke better, and even Nick has his good points. The Ravenettes survive, but is theirs the moral high ground?" Abandoning the metaphor, Sylvia reclined in her chair and considered her options. Killer the Terrier nuzzled her feet, then pranced over to his water dish and gave a few somewhat bored laps before laying at her feet again. Killer the Terrier wouldn't like it much if she joined up with the FOSsils, she reflected, although the two cats back home would love it. Schanke was fun, but she just couldn't see herself as a FOD. The Cousins were out. As a nurse, Sylvia was dedicated to life and healing, not death and decay. "LaCroix might be stronger, but his faction is not for me," she thought. She paused over the Knighties. Nick needed all the help he could get, but she had the impression from the last war that he would not be much of a leader. He was afraid of the responsibility that having followers would necessitate. Which led inexorably to the Nat-pack. They would help Nick, weather he thought he needed help or not. Nat was a neat lady herself, and Sylvia had often thought that she would not mind having her as a friend. Having met the coroner at a medical convention some years ago, Sylvia knew a bit about her and liked what she knew. "That's a definite possible maybe," she muttered to herself. Killer the Terrier looked up in anticipation, then lay down again when he saw that a doggie treat was not forthcoming. Sylvia toyed briefly with the idea of forming her own faction. "The Graces"-- the faction for large medical professionals who know more than they let on and generally have a good outlook on life, but worry a lot for their friends and help them as much as possible. After going through, mentally, the long list of puns that could be made off of the name, she decided she liked it. The Nat-pack and the Graces were natural allies, and she could be both if she wanted to, so there. Setting fingers to keyboard, Sylvia cobbled together a note and sent if off to Natalie and to Grace concerning the Ravenette's mobilization and offering her assistance. Chesapeake was a long way from Toronto, but she had driven longer distances before, and what good was being a traveling nurse if she couldn't go where she wanted and when. Her assignment in Virginia was up soon and she could be in Toronto within the month, if Arthur came up with an assignment there. If not, there were other agencies. She keyed off, her heart now lighter, and grabbed up Killer the Terrier's leash. The small dog sprang up and bolted for the door, scampering back and forth, hardly allowing Sylvia to clip leash to collar. Laughing, she stepped out into the warmth of Independence Day, Virginia-style, squinting in the sun, and baking in the humidity. She half hoped she would be needed in Toronto, after this assignment. "Come on, boy." And Killer the Terrier took off at a run. -------this space for rent------dial 555-sig.----------- ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Tue, 5 Jul 1994 21:46:00 EDT From: "Asst. Listowner" Subject: Re: FKWars2: Affiliations >To: lms5@psuvm.psu.edu >From: sarajnsn@violet.berkeley.edu (S. Tanaquil Johnson) >Subject: Affiliations >Laurie, >I only just came across this message in the June archives. I hope it's not >too late Laurie gazed at the message, "Too late! I already erased the damn thing!" Cruising through a couple of TV stations she couldn't find anything to distract her. "Oh great, more OJ Simpson coverage!" She turned the boob tube off. Getting up from her sofa she tripped over a large half empty tin of popcorn. "Susan and her damn munchies!" Laurie let the container roll and disappear under her coffee table. "Ok, I did collect a bunch of affiliations and I *think* I still can access the VMBackup files and recover the file. Blah, why? Everyone who did email me has already declared their affiliation in public. Ok Salopek, think of something else.. hmmmm..." She walked to her kitchen filled a beautifully engraved glass with chablis and smiled at it's cousin sitting on the counter waiting to be washed. Cousin Sandye had surprised her with the pair for her birthday... THAT WAS IT! Cousin Sandye...If there was one person in the world she could trust it was her. Afterall, wasn't she BigWig?" Laurie smiled. First she would have to make sure her high speed fax-modem really did work. There was no way to know her first test message found its destination. Or, she pondered, she could knock on Sandye's door and deliver the message in person, but Laurie's sense of timing wasn't the best and she opted for email. She mailed a note to Sandye. ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Wed, 6 Jul 1994 12:46:15 EDT From: Pamela Rush Subject: July 4-early July 5 [part 1/2]-------------------------------- Later in the pm, July 4: somewhere in Kentucky "'Llo." "Hi, Sher. It's Pam." "What's up?" "I'm not sure, but I think there may be trouble brewing, storm clouds on the horizon, red sails in the morning -- " "Ok. I get it. What kinda trouble?" "Toronto." "NOT again! Have you talked to anyone else yet?" "Merle's off-line; Cal is still incoherent with ecstasy and keeps floating up to the ceiling. Don is incommunicado, although I *hope* he's out scouting the situation. He's not one to let things sneak up on him." "You know, I *thought* there was some problem with communications with Toronto recently." "Like what?" "We didn't get an ACK from Schanke for the last couple of packages we sent him and that's not like him. Usually he's so prompt. And so appreciative." "You think it could be the Canadian customs again?" "Nah. After that one incident, we've sent everything in vacuum packed bags disguised inside plain manilla mailers. They shouldn't have attracted any attention." "Well, what should we do first?" "I suppose we'd better go to lunch." "Good idea. You want Chinese, Italian or Tex-Mex?" * * * * * [end of part 1/2]----------------------------------------------------------- ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Thu, 7 Jul 1994 14:07:07 -0500 From: Debbie Kraft Subject: FKWarsII: FOSsiLs Attack, Alpha(1) -- Sidney Makes His Move July 4, 1994 6:00pm, Toronto time Natalie Lambert sat down at her home computer and wearily switched it on. It had been a incredibly long day at the morgue, mainly due to a gang war that had involved not one but two pipe bombs. Nat shuddered, watching the boot-up messages scroll up the screen. Pieces. Bits and pieces, not bodies. Even turned *her* stomach. Her thoughts drifted to another pipe bomb victim--one infinitely more fortunate in the encounter. "Fortune's a fickle thing, Nat," she murmured. "Well, I'd better mosey on out of Cadaver City and find out what's been happening at the OK Corral." She rummaged through her tote bag and fished out the disk she'd brought from work. Easier to download her e-mail there than to try and access the morgue mainframe. As she slid the disk into the drive, something warm and furry brushed against her ankle. Nat looked down. "Hi, Sid. How's my fuzzy buddy, huh?" She scritched him on the head and was rewarded with a bass rumble. "Glad to hear it. Wanna hop up here?" Sidney contemplated her patting hands, then with a "Mrrph!" jumped up onto Nat's lap. He proceeded to knead and purr even more vigorously as she began to page through her e-mail. After a moment, he sat up and lazily watched the scroll of text, his eyes blinking from time to time in contentment. That is, until Natalie leaned forward, frowning, her brows deeply furrowed. "What the-- I don't believe it! Sidney...someone sent you e-mail care of my address!" Eyes wide with interest, Sidney planted his paws on the desk and leaned toward the screen for a better look. "Mrrrr," he commented. "And that's not all," Nat continued. "This note was sent by a Cousin, of all things!" She looked down at her cat, one eyebrow raised in inquiry. "Sid, is there something you haven't told me?" Sidney blinked, the most innocent expression on his face. "Merrrowr?" He reared up and nuzzled Nat's chin, his purr vibrating his whiskers. "Purrrrrrrrrrrr," he rumbled, "purrrr, purrr, purrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr." Nat laughed. "Oh, Lord! I *am* getting carried away with this, aren't I? You don't have the slightest idea of what's going on with Nick and everyone in the war." She ran her fingers down his spine, smiling. "And maybe you're the lucky one at that." There came a sudden high-pitched whistle from the kitchen. Nat's head jerked up. "Oops, tea kettle. Got to set you down for a minute, Sidney." She gently picked him up and deposited him on the floor. * * * * * * * He needed time, that was paramount. A diversion of some kind. He listened to his human humming in kitchen and thought, his eyes scanning the entire apartment. Diversion... Spill! Breakables! His lips pulled back in a cheshire grin, and he padded purposefully toward the bathroom. With a twinge of regret, Sidney jumped up on the sink counter and surveyed what he could use. Not the little statues, she loved those. Besides, they couldn't be easily replaced. What could he--? Ah, yes--the perfume. He stalked toward the three glass bottles, calculating the force necessary to cause breakages. Then, after a deep breath, he swatted the aerosols to the tile floor. Smash! Crash! Pingity, pingity, pingity! "What in the world?" Natalie's footsteps came down the hall. Sidney jumped to the floor, careful not to step in the shards of his handiwork, and huddled in the corner of the bathroom. "Meeeooow," he cried pitifully, "meeeeeeoooooww." Nat stopped on the bathroom threshold and surveyed the damage. "Aw, Sidney. What'd you do, slip?" "Meeeoow, meeooow," said Sidney, putting his heart into the act. "You poor guy. Well, I suppose even cats have accidents. Go on, go out in the living room and let me clean this up." She chivvied him toward the hall. He turned and looked dolefully at her, his tail tucked between his legs. "Oh, go on. You're not in trouble or anything, I just have to clean up the mess." She gave him a reassuring caress, then turned to deal with his diversion. Sidney gave a perfume-induced sneeze, glanced over his shoulder to see that his human was properly engaged in her chore, then made a beeline for the computer. He hopped up on the chair and peered at the screen, getting a good look at the note for the first time. It read: To: Sidney Lambert From: Merlin and Gandalf Subject: Fur is Flying Have monitored the situation via e-mail. Certain details are clear. Big Crow has stolen certain packages of police nature. Little Crow flies a different path. Dark Policeman in quandary but receiving assistance from Arthurian magician with disease magic. Big Crow's flunky is last known position for police packages. Two packages, one live, may be mobile soon. Little Crow's wings may need to be clipped. Will monitor further developments as they occur. Suggestion: bring in Toronto members of The Nine. Mere humans don't have claws enough for this. +----------------------------------------------------+ | Lisa Luksus tokaara@aol.com | | Cousin 'Tok' | +----------------------------------------------------+ | That which does not kill me had better be able to | | run away damn fast! | +----------------------------------------------------+ The Nine. The Nine. Yes, he agreed with Merlin and Gandalf's assessment. The two members of the Nine who lived in Toronto would need to be called to assist in this matter. Sidney's whiskers twitched as he decided which one he should contact. Cheshire, he decided, would carry out most of the action more reliably than Panther. Panther, after all, was a Feral--and a Gifted Feral at that. If Cheshire thought she could enlist Panther's aid, more power to her. Sidney could never get that particular feline savant to understand him. He craned his neck to see down the hall. Natalie was still engaged in her "clean-up." Sidney lips slid back over his fangs and guttural snarl trickled from his throat. He turned back to the computer, and with unsheathed claws, painstakingly typed a critical e-mail message... /\ /\ ^o o^ D.K. "Cat" Kraft ->T<- cat@eskimo.com ~ Edmonds, WA -- Home of Jimmy Doohan, Star Trek's Scotty ___oOO___OOo___ ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Tue, 5 Jul 1994 16:53:38 -0600 From: John Dencoff Subject: Cousin John eats Barney for Lunch [part 2/2]------------------ * * * Several hours later, the disks were un-corrupted, and John had a headache that wouldn't quit. As his mood went from foul to worse, someone dared to ring the doorbell...and all he could think about was food. Fortunately, dinner had arrived! But it wasn't cooked! Argh! How could these new Cousins be so incomplete! The small airline animal cage held a cute little bunny, too scared to munch on its carrot. He pulled the cage inside, grumpily wondering if he had any rabbit recipes. "So, you must be Hazel!" he murmured. * * * LizBeth came home to find her house had been burgled! Angry and scared at the same time, she hoped they had left! As she pushed the door fully open, she saw that nothing was missing...and it didn't look like anything of great monetary value was missing. Except...something didn't seem right. "Hazel!" she barely whispered. "Someone stole Hazel!!" It was true: Hazel was gone...cage and all! [end of part 2/2] Cousin John Emperor of Harpsichords jdencoff@polaris.unm.edu ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Wed, 6 Jul 1994 00:30:51 EDT From: LizBeth258@AOL.COM Subject: FKWarsII: Hazel! "Let me get this straight, you came home from covering that five alarm fire in Nashua at 9:15 p.m." "Yes." "You found your door open and you went in? What are you, crazy, Marchese?" "Look, officer. I know Chief Sexton's home phone number, so don't insult me." "Right, right. You should know better. How many stories have you written where unsuspecting victim comes home only to get shot by the perp rifling through their underwear draw?" "Ten, but who's counting?" Officer Lamy sighed. "So, despite common sense, you pushed your way into the apartment and found your rabbit..." "Hazel. She's agouti colored and a French lop." "Hazel, check. French lop, got it. Was missing. And that's all that was missing?" "Yes. All my scrimshaw jewelry is still here. So's my grandmother's diamond ring. I had some money on the kitchen counter. Nothing else was touched." "Well, it looks like a real pro got through the locks." "Don't patronize me. That lock couldn't keep out fruit bat intent on getting in. And let's not forget that fire escape right outside the window." "All right. All right. So all they needed was a credit card. But why the rabbit? I don't get it. Anyone could've gotten one for $19.95." "Plus tax." "This is New Hampshire. We don't HAVE a sales tax remember? Sheesh. You transplants from Massachusetts...." "OFFICER!" Officer Lamy sighed again. The look on his face was clear to read. *Reporters. A pain in the ass. Wonder how much paperwork the chief would make me fill out if I shot her by accident.* He looked at me, decided that it was a bad idea to kill anyone who had the chief's home phone number and bit back the comment, "But it's only a rabbit." even now leaping to his tongue and continued the questions. "Any reason why anyone would want to steal your rabbit?" I had a pretty good idea. Well, maybe not who the individual involved was, but the group anyway. I figured it was a wise idea not to say anything. The LAST thing I needed was the chief questioning my sanity. "No. No idea." "Maybe someone you libeled. Get any of the selectmen upset recently?" "OFFICER!" "Just checking," Lamy snapped his notebook closed. "I wouldn't hold out too much hope of finding her. If someone's just out to mess with your head, you'll probably get a call. If that happens, call the department. If it's someone who decided she'd taste good with mustard sauce... stop whimpering, you... I'd say it's time to find a new rabbit." "You're a well of comfort." He tipped his hat as he walked out the door. "Just doing my job, ma'am." I closed the door and put on the chain. My visitor or visitors wouldn't be back tonight. They struck a low blow. Hazel wouldn't hurt anyone. I always kinda suspected she had a line into the vampire world. Probably through Bunnicula, if there was such a person, I mean rabbit, but she didn't EVER get involved in the last wars. My list of suspects. The Ravenettes I could count out. They wouldn't do this to one of their own. Besides, rabbit-napping was so, well, gauche. The Knighties wouldn't either. Say what you will about them, they wouldn't stoop this low. The Nat-Packers and their ancillary wing, the FOSsiLs, wouldn't either. Pets are pets and they wouldn't take someone's pet. That left the FoDs and the Cousins. The FoDs probably weren't involved. I didn't smell any garlic when I came home. It HAD to be the Cousins. Damn. Which one? And why? It would be kinda stupid to steal my rabbit for a meal, especially since I don't think any of the ringleaders actually live in New Hampshire. Were they trying to get to me through Hazel? If they were, why didn't they leave a note? Something on the order of, "Ve haf your rabbit. Iv you effer vant to zee 'er alife..." Well, there was one Cousin who I KNOW didn't take her. Let's face it, Sandye owns two rabbits herself. Besides, if she wanted to get to me, she'd've unsubbed me from her Blackadder mailing list. ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ To: sac116@pauvm.psu.edu From: lizbeth258@aol.com Subject: They took Hazel! Sandye-rah, I know your beloved Uncle probably doesn't want you fraternizing with the enemy, but since I'm a Ravenette, I think I can safely assume that we're in-laws. At least. One of your "cousins" took my rabbit. I don't need proof. Process of elimination is enough for me to figure it out. I want to know WHY. I also want to know WHO. If one of her ears is so much as mussed, they're going to be sorry they messed with Hazel, especially since I suspect she's got her own sources into the vampire world. My vengeance will be terrible.... BUT, if she's returned to me unharmed and not smelling of mustard sauce, I MIGHT be willing to forget the whole thing. If you wanna mess with me during this war, fine. I can take it. It's all part of the deal when you chose sides. But a RABBIT? C'mon. You've got your own furry children, so you probably understand what I'm going through. Please, please help. I know this means I owe you. BIG. I know I'm probably going to be sorry I asked this favor. I really don't have a choice.... I also know I'm Alma-food if this gets back to the Raven. I am forced to accept the consequences, PROVIDING it's not too late. Liz-Hazel ---------------------------------------------------------- ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Tue, 5 Jul 1994 22:28:59 -0500 From: TMP_HARKINS@DIRAC.PHYSICS.JMU.EDU Subject: Nick Takes Action the evening of July 4th Nick looked around at the milling crowd in some irritation. It was interesting to Schanke, he supposed, that a group of expatriate Americans had arranged to have a carnival and fireworks show to celebrate America's Day of Independence. Then again, glancing over at his partner, he supposed Schanke was glad to be in a public place. And, he had to admit, the carnival was fun for Schanke's daughter, Jenny. Even his wife, Myra, looked like she was enjoying herself. Schanke himself looked outwardly pleasant, but seemed a little stiff. Maybe he'd been a bit too cruel--switching those phone lines so that Myra could hear Schanke's little flirtation with that stripper witness. Nick had been lagging slightly behind and Schanke noticed, falling into step beside him. "Not enjoying yourself?" he asked. "Actually...no." Part of his mind was occupied with worry over the stolen mail and database and besides, he'd never been one for huge gatherings. Particularly such mortal gatherings as these, with their noises and sickening food smells. Schanke smiled grimly. "I'm glad. Serves you right for getting me in hot water with Myra. And I didn't need Nat to tell me it was you who pulled that stunt, either." "I _said_ I was sorry, Schank. Besides, it's not _all_ my fault. You shouldn't be such a flirt." He smiled slightly. Schanke glanced apprehensively at his wife, then looked back at his partner. "Keep it down, OK? I'm trying to make amends here." Nick shrugged. Schanke lowered his voice further. "Besides, you know I'm never serious about my flirting." "What about Alma?" Schanke glanced at Myra again, but she was occupied with listening to Jenny requesting more money for games. "Nick!" said Schanke warningly, in a low tone. "That's not for publication, remember?" "Don't worry." Briefly his thoughts turned to the FOD mail that had disappeared from his loft. He wondered how Schanke could have followers and personally know nothing about the "wars." Maybe the FOD group had some follower leader amongst themselves. "I agreed to come here tonight with you. Do you think I want to screw things up and have to attend some _worse_ event than this one?" Schanke was placated, probably by the disgust Nick was sure probably shown in his face. "Well, you owed me." Jenny came running over to her father and said, "The fireworks are starting in ten minutes!" Schanke smiled at his daughter. "Then we should try to find a good spot to watch, huh?" He walked off to find Myra and Nick followed, hoping the time went quickly. They found a spot in the crowd and before long, the fireworks show began. They went off almost directly above the carnival. Nick, watching, couldn't see that it really made any difference _where_ they had decided to stand. Celebration was all well and good, he guessed, but the fireworks reminded Nick of too many real wars and, by association, too much real death. To distract himself, he looked at Schanke and his family. The three of them were watching the fireworks with lively interest. Schanke had dared to put an arm around Myra and she was leaning against him. As he watched, they looked at each other and Nick could see that whatever tension his prank had caused was forgotten. There was a lot of love between his partner and his wife. They looked at Jenny and he knew they had a lot of love for her as well. Despite the crowd, Nick suddenly felt very lonely. He watched the sky again and tried to forget what Schanke had. But he really didn't pay much attention to the fireworks show and so was surprised when Schanke clapped him on the shoulder and said, "Wasn't that great?!" Nick smiled and said, "Yeah." Schanke, he noticed, still had his arm around Myra. "It's too bad Natalie Lambert couldn't have joined us," said Myra. "She said she was busy," said Nick. The talk about Nat made him wonder how much luck she'd had in contacting various "Wars" group people about the current problem LaCroix presented. Maybe it was the sudden reminder of what Nat was doing, but he got an odd thought. Why _had_ LaCroix's minions come to his loft seeking the letters? He frowned. "Well, it's too bad. I'm sure she would have enjoyed it," said Myra. Nick smiled and said absently, "Yeah." "I need to go to the bathroom," said Jenny. "Okay, honey," said Myra. "We'll be back in a few minutes," she told her husband. She and Jenny started away. "Hey, let's meet over by the corn dog stand!" said Schanke. Myra waved in acknowledgement and she and Jenny disappeared into the crowd. "C'mon, buddy, I'll buy you a corn dog," said Schanke. He started to walk off in the direction of the food aisle and Nick fell reluctantly into step beside him. "No thanks, Schanke," said Nick, repulsed by the very idea of consuming carnival food. Or _any_ food, for that matter. But _especially_ carnival food. It was all he could do to keep from getting sick at the _smells_. "But you haven't eaten all night." "I'm not hungry." "What's bothering you? You've seemed distracted all night too." "Something--personal. And I _don't_ want to talk about it." "Does it have something to do with Nat?" "Nat and I are _just friends_." "OK, OK. It's just--the expression on your face when Myra mentioned her just now. You seemed--concerned." Nick was silent. It was better that Schanke _didn't_ know what was going on. But...what if LaCroix went after Schanke? Schanke, fortunately, didn't press the matter. Instead, helooked off into the crowd and said, "At least Myra seems to have forgiven me." He looked at Nick. "You know, buddy, marriage is not such a bad thing--with the right person." "Does that mean that I can leave now?" "Hey, you owe me, remember?" He paused, then added, "I guess you can go. Myra and I'll be leaving soon ourselves anyway." His eyes twinkled. "I'll tell her you picked up some bimbo." "Don't you dare!" said Nick. Then he added, "Seriously, though. You don't care if I leave?" "Nope. I think you've suffered enough." Nick smiled slightly. "Don't press your luck, or you might just be the victim of _another_ prank." Schanke smiled. "Okay. Truce?" "Truce. I'll see you at work tomorrow." "Later," said Schanke. Then he headed over to the corn dog stand. Nick hightailed it away from the food aisle and to the parking lot, slipping gratefully into his car. His thoughts returned to the matter of just how LaCroix's people knew he had the mail. He frowned and then began a slow burn. Could it be possible that _Janette_ had told LaCroix that he had the mail? Nick had told Nat he'd speak to Janette. Well, he had a definite reason to now. He drove to the Raven. Janette was standing at the bar, having a drink. Nick walked over to her and said, "Janette." Janette turned. "Nicolah!" she said with a smile. Then the smile faded as she studied him. "What's wrong?" "I need to talk to you--_privately_." Janette took a breath and lead him back to her office. "What has disturbed you, Nicolah?" she said, once they were there. Nick grabbed her arm in a tight grip. "Someone stole all the mail you gave me--and my laptop--from the loft." Janette took several sharp breaths before saying, "It wasn't _me_!" Then she added, "You're hurting me." But Nick was not about to be placated yet. "Did you tell LaCroix you gave me the mail?" Janette hesitated, then said, "Well, he _did_ call and ask why he hadn't been receiving any mail. What was I to say?" "Well, since _you_ were in charge of the mail until recently, you could have come up with _something_ to tell him. You could have said you'd been busy." "LaCroix _knows_ when he's been told a lie, Nicolah. Besides, _you_ should have been forwarding his mail instead of keeping it." Nick looked away guiltily. He released his hold on Janette. "You're right. This _is_ my fault." He sank down onto her couch. Janette sat down beside him. "Did you say _all_ the mail I gave you was taken?" "Yes. And my laptop with its database of applications." Janette frowned. "You _did_ have a backup of the database." "Yes," Nick said. He decided not to add that it was two weeks out of date. Janette sighed and said, "Well. I wonder what he's up to." "I'm sure it's nothing _good_." He looked at Janette. "And I don't intend to idly sit by this time and watch his followers harass innocents." He traced a finger along her jaw. "Perhaps you'd like to help me?" "I don't know. What's in it for me to stick my neck out? LaCroix's after _your_ fans." "Are you sure? He took _all_ the mail. He may be after _everyone_ who doesn't follow him this time." Janette studied him, a frown on her face. "Maybe he took it all because he didn't want to sort it all out." "Come on, Janette. I need your help." He smiled slightly at her and let a mild glow appear in his eyes. "I can make it worth your while." "Oh? How?" asked Janette. Nick continued to smile at her and raised an eyebrow. "Oh, I'm sure we can think of _something_." He'd decide _what_ was appropriate later. "Well?" he asked. To Be Continued????? ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Wed, 6 Jul 1994 14:45:06 EDT From: SusanG2522@AOL.COM Subject: FKWARII--JANETTE'S RESPONSE [part 1/2]------------------------ Janette's Response (sequel to Nick takes Action and The Newest Arrival) It was smile. Janette took a breath, hesitating only a moment. She knew she might be distracted from her purpose, but ? And if LaCroix was planning on attacking her people . . . perhaps it wouldn't be a bad idea to have some backup. The theft of the mail she'd expected, but the database itself? It was something she should have anticipated, LaCroix so loved grand gestures. "All right," she agreed, after a moment's pause. "But I'll hold you to your promise." As she drew closer, Nicola rose and took a few steps away. "Later," he said, then added, in answer to her pout, "Janette, there's a war on!" "Always an excuse." Folding her arms across her chest, she draped herself along the back of the couch. "It's only the database on your laptop, after all. How bad can it be?" Nicola froze, then turned to look at her. "He's got everything on the hard drive." "One would assume." For an instant, his eyes filled with terror. Janette swallowed--very little frightened Nicola that much. "Why? What did you have on the hard drive?" As he turned away again, she cleared her throat and asked lightly, "Mash notes to your coroner, perhaps? Or poetry?" She'd meant it to be a joke. But there was something in the way he looked back at her that caused her heart to stop. "Oh, Nicola!" "Just a few pieces," he protested quickly. "Not much of anything. You remember--" "I've been trying to forget for centuries." Janette put her hand over her eyes. embarrassing! But even LaCroix wouldn't be so cruel. It keep them both busy, while she pursued her own plans. And speaking of keeping them busy . . . . "No matter--I'm sure I can lend you some help, from time to time. One or two of my people. To be honest--" she batted her eyelashes at him, "I was impressed that you took action immediately. But I suppose it's difficult to stop an old warrior from charging in head-first, hmmn?" The smile fell from his face, there might even have been a return of the guilty look--just a bit of it--as he answered, "What?" Seemingly disinterested, Janette half-turned and traced the seam of the wallpaper with her fingernail. "A few of your old followers came over to my side during the last war and it seems they never bothered to inform you--they all received that wonderful 'call to arms' message you sent." She smiled at him. "I believe you said 'root them out at any cost'? Dear Nicola, such ruthlessness! I didn't think you had it in you." He took a step nearer. "I didn't write anything like that." "Of you did. I believe Alma said it had been sent to of your followers. was certainly impressed." Rising from the couch, she stood behind him and ran her hand along his shoulder. "In fact, if you'd sent that message to me, Nicola, I would have followed you ." He turned away, escaping her attempt at an embrace. "I didn't send that. LaCroix! It must have been LaCroix!" When he turned back to her, she opened her eyes wide in surprise. "Oooo! I wonder what trap he's leading your little friends into?" His pale skin turned just a shade paler. Fiercely, he grasped her hand and brought it to his lips. "Thank you, Janette. You've just helped me more than you could ever know. We'll talk later?" "Ummmm, as you promised." He didn't respond to her seductive smile, turning and running for the door. The instant he was gone, the smile fell from her face. Janette stalked back to her desk. Now she was indebted to Nicola. Damn! Well, she could always change her mind later, if it came to that. It was a woman's prerogative, after all. The intercom buzzed. Janette hit the button. "Yes?" Alma's voice was breathless, with just a hit of fear. "Line two. For you." There was no other message. Intrigued, Janette's finger hovered over the second button as she picked up the telephone receiver. Perhaps it was LaCroix--he always made Alma nervous. Then again, he usually made everyone nervous. "This is Janette," she answered-- It wasn't LaCroix. [end of part 1/2]-------------------------------------------------------------- [Susan Garrett] ----------------------------------------------------------------- -------- Date: Wed, 6 Jul 1994 03:50:44 -0500 From: Cousin Monica Subject: FKWAR2--The Newest Arrival [part2 of 2] The Newest Arrival Monica wasted no time. No sooner had they walked into the apartment, than she grabbed the phone off the wall in anger. She violently stabbed the number into the buttons, taking her frustrations out on the receiver. The phone rang...and rang...and rang; she paced the floor growing ever-more irascible. After what seemed an eternity someone finally answered. "The Raven...Alma speaking." "Janette...now!" Monica spat through tightly clenched teeth. The deafening silence on the other end of the line drove Monica's anger to a level even she had thought impossible. As if betrayal were not bad enough, this waiting was the crowning stone on the throne of insults. "This is Janette," she said, a touch of annoyance tingeing her voice. The only reason Janette even deigned to answer the phone was because she thought it might be the sender of the fax she had received earlier. She did not appreciate being ordered to the phone, but she had no choice in the matter. "If you were half as smart as I thought you were, you wouldn't be playing both ends against the middle. Did you really think that you'd get away with it?" "Who is this?" demanded Janette indignantly. Monica took a deep breath and started her audacious harangue again. "I'm asking the questions now. Why did you turn the files over to Nicholas? Do you realize what you've done? LaCroix has everything!" Between Monica's screaming, which could be heard all over State College, and the fiendish look on her face, it was truly a frightful sight to behold. Whatever Janette might have said to appease Monica's anger had little chance of succeeding. "What do you mean I owe you? I owe you nothing! And that's just what you're going to get from me! Nothing!!!!!!!!!!" Monica slammed down the phone so hard that it ripped the cradle off of the wall. "Sandye! Get in here!" There was no turning back now. Whatever the reason, whatever the cost, from now on Monica would be a cousin. Cousin Monica [end of part 2 of 2]----------------------------------------------------- ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Wed, 6 Jul 1994 14:45:06 EDT From: SusanG2522@AOL.COM Subject: FKWARII--JANETTE'S RESPONSE [part 2/2]------------------------ Janette's Response She was . Janette stalked across her office. The little snip of a thing had hung up on . How dare she! Then, she slowed her pace and glanced back at the phone thoughtfully. Yes, it true that she was willing to make some sacrifices if it meant she would be one of the pieces left standing at the end of this game. But the pawns that had given themselves to her had no right to change allegiance now, when the balance was so delicate. How odd that things should work out this way. Not a contemplative creature by nature, she brushed the thought aside as the anger rose within her again. No--Monica would be allowed to get away with this. Quickly, she grabbed a piece of letterhead from her desk and began to write out a note. Janette paused just long enough to punch the intercom button and snarl, "Alma! Now!' before returning to the message she was writing. It was only a matter of seconds before the door slammed open and Alma teetered in on those ridiculously high heels. Taking a last look at the note, Janette nodded her approval, then threw it at Alma. "I want that faxed ." Alma looked down at the note in her hand, then back at Janette. "You're kidding? One of us went over the wall? To whom?" "She hangs around with those cousins, so I assume LaCroix. Which is just as well because I very much doubt he'd be interested in protecting a little ex-ravenette. LaCroix doesn't protect any of his own, except Nicola." Janette hesitated a moment, then glared down suspiciously at her blotter. "Remind me to talk to that writer--I believe most of her beta-readers are cousins. I don't want any more fraternization with LaCroix's people. They can't be trusted." But when she looked up, Janette sighed, recognizing the glazed look on Alma's face--which often resulted from more than one thought occupying her limited gray cells. "Just fax that. Then come back and I'll give you the other message." Alma looked down at the fax. "But . . . I don't know if you should trust--" "Call it an 'initiation,' if you wish," said Janette sweetly. "But I want Monica taken down. And who better to accomplish it?" When Alma hesitated, Janette waved a hand imperiously toward the doorway. "Go!" she shouted. As Alma left, door closing behind her, Janette sank down in her chair. This was much more difficult than she thought it would ever be. And she still had to deal with those cats . . . . --- [end of part 2/2]----------------------------------------------------------- SusanG2522@aol.com ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Wed, 6 Jul 1994 04:50:47 -0500 From: Cousin Sandye-rah Subject: You Said WHAT??? or Cousin John gets a Hearing Aid You Said WHAT???? Or Cousin John gets a Hearing Aid. Within the somewhat sturdy walls of Sandye's apartment, all hell seemed to be breaking loose. Monica was raging like a bull in a china shop; there was no telling what that phone call to Janette would do to the delicate balance of power. What had appeared to be nothing more than a ill-timed mistake, in actuality, was the beginning of the war...a la Janette's machiavellian machinations. Yes, she and the other cousins did steal the files from Nicholas' loft, but that was merely self-defense. Uncle had his plans, of course, but this time, his advocation of the soft touch, clever appeasement and gentile acquisition marked a new era in cousinship. Logging into her computer, Sandye discovered that despite thecarefully laid plans, one of her own kind had taken a perspective that was somewhat slightly askew. The message from Liz had arrived earlier that night. Nothing obscure about this one, Cousin John had taken Hazel. If Monica hadn't been screaming in her living room, surely, she would be wringing poor Cousin John's neck. This had to be a mistake...Uncle never meant for him to take Hazel...John had simply misunderstood. Now, acting as a rogue cousin, John had driven one of the Brethren just one step short of madness. "Bad form, cousin. I think we're going to have to get that boy a discount card from Miracle Ear." Back on line, Sandye sent her cousin a private message. The only words she had to change from Uncle's dictation were a few rousing exclamations...she was sure the effect would not be diminished. _________________________________________________________________ ___ To: Cousin John From: Cousin Sandye-rah I think you went just a wee bit too far this time. Uncle could barely stop himself from flying out there to "fix" your hearing. I would advise an immediate reversal of your sudden acquisition. Please bring Hazel to me later this evening. Expecting a "unexpected visit" from you know who. I'd like to see you remain just as you are...unvivisected, that is. Cousin Sandye-rah _________________________________________________________________ ____ Right now, that was all she could do. Liz must be going crazy with fear. But there was no way John would hurt Hazel; not when Uncle had directed otherwise. When he brought Hazel back, she would be able to breathe a sigh of relief. This would be exactly the kind of action that could bring about a greater understanding of the cousins. We were not the demonic horde that those self-aggrandizing groups tried to portray us as, neither were we the whining, self-loathing gits that did nothing but sit around playing "pass the blame." Perhaps one day, the truth would be known. Until then, Sandye had to deal with the problems at hand. Just then a blood-curdling scream came from the living room. This was going to be a very, very long night. Cousin Sandye-rah Cousin Sandye-rah.....Cwningen ----------------------------------------------------------------- --- * It is impossible that anything so natural, so necessary, and so * * universal as death, should ever have been designed by Providence* * as an evil to mankind. * * Swift. * ----------------------------------------------------------------- --- ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Tue, 5 Jul 1994 23:26:39 -0500 From: "Sharon S. Scott" Subject: FK War II: Dinner The message from Nicholah arrived at 10:43 p.m. CDT. Spring. I hit pf1 and r for read, my hands shaking in anticipation. I read the message, and then smiled. A very big smile. Nicholah had several little tasks for me. Taking a deep breath, a drag on my Doral, and a swig of Diet Coke, I got to work. First I contacted Tim, Larry's teacher, who just happened to work at Baylor. He had monitored the last war, and had helped me repair the damage the dreaded LaCroixian virus had wreaked on MacSting. I logged into the VAX, and at the dollar prompt keyed in "talk guru" and waited for the computer whiz to respond. It didn't take long. He was more than willing, when I explained what Nicholah wanted him to do. No problem. He had taught Larry everything he knew about computers. Control c aborted talk, and I checked off one item on my list. The next wasn't so easy. Maybe it was over the top. Maybe not. But if Nicholah wanted it done, I would do it. Anything for one of those smiles. Maybe he'd even let me polish his motorcycle, or pick up corks off his floor when I finally got to Toronto. One can dream. I picked up the phone and punched in the caterer's number in New Mexico. "Can you handle it? Yeah, every hour on the hour. Charge it to Nick Knight. Thanks." I wanted to see the look on the Emperor's face when he opened his door and discovered a caterer's truck outside. Chock full of special treats. Barneyburgers. Barbecued Barney. Barney au jus. Chickenfried Barney with cream gravy. Barney fajitas. Barney with chips. Barney with fries. Barney malts. Barney cobbler. Barney loaf. Barney sushi. Barney with chocolate chips and whipped cream. One treat to be delivered every hour on the hour, day and night, for 2 weeks. On to the next item. With some trepidation I shut down MacSting, went into the bedroom, and eyed the change of clothes I had laid out on the bed. The t-shirt had arrived late in the afternoon. I had tried to put it on earlier, but hadn't actually managed it. Valerie had meant well, but the thought of wearing a frog ballet t-shirt gave me the willies. Cold chills. Hot flashes. But I had to do it. I didn't know why, but Nicholah had said to wear it, so I would. Gritting my teeth and holding my breath, I pulled the thing on over my head. And looked down. AHA! Now I knew why Nicholah had said to wear it. The upside down view was totally different from the right side up view. The little froggie arms and legs formed a pattern. A map. Of a university town in Pennsylvania. I grabbed the keys to El Truck and headed for DFW. ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Wed, 6 Jul 1994 05:13:30 -0500 From: Cousin Sandye-rah Subject: FKWAR2: The Final Cut The Final Cut It never rains but it pours. Sandye hadn't heard language like that since the last war. With much anticipation and dread, she stepped ever-so cautiously back into the living room. Pieces of telephone lay everywhere: on the floor, in the plant, yes, even on the big hairy wolf-dog Shane. Even more frightening was the look on dear Monica's face...Janette must have dropped a pint on that phone call. Of all the things to have happen: what would the rest of the Ravenettes think about one of their own defecting? Janette had no one to blame but herself: she'd pushed the envelope just a little too far this time, and no matter what she might say, she had done it all for glory. Admirable, yes. Advisable, no. The two friends, now united in all things, speedily made their cunning plans. There was no choice in the matter now... had to be told. Making use of a neighbor's phone, Sandye placed the call that might very well change all their lives. Luckily, Dennis lived close enough for her to use the phone without alerting the ever-present Cousin Laurie. Right after she sent Cousin John his note from Uncle, a strange message from Laurie dropped into her reader. Just when you think you've seen it all.... Sneaking back to the apartment, Sandye found Monica and Dennis waiting eagerly by the front door. "So what's the verdict?" Monica looked more than eager...she looked voracious. "I guess it's safe to say that you shared our little secret?" Sandye might not have bothered to ask: the look on Dennis' face spoke volumes. "Of course I did..." Dennis appeared poised, ready for the coming storm. Eyes clear and determined...yes, this was one convert LaCroix would truly appreciate. Having made many enemies in a very the short time, no one would find it very hard to believe that Dennis had become a cousin. No one at all. "I thought you might appreciate some help." The smile that crossed Monica's pale-Welsh features gladdened Cousin Sandye's heart. Now she'd have an even better gift for Uncle. This was the kind of two-for-one sale even he could not resist. ----------------------------------- It was ten minutes to midnight when the sliding glass doors opened. Out of the dark and into the golden light of evening, LaCroix sauntered into Sandye's State College apartment. With a bow and a sneer the great man made his way toward the trinity of terror sitting nonplused on the couch. "It is nice to see that I don't frighten everyone..." Moving across the room, he motioned for them to stand, as if in reverent admiration to his majestic presence. As they stood to his command, Sandye introduced LaCroix to these, his newest arrivals. " We expecting you, Uncle." With hungry eyes, he looked over his latest acquisitions with a modicum of approval . "It's such a lovely evening, I thought I'd use the scenic entrance." "Since we're three floors up, I usually find that the traffic on the balcony runs pretty thin this time of night." She regretted her words instantly. They were, unfortunately, unretrievable. "I told you about that sense of humor...I'd be glad to re-teach you lesson...anything to accommodate you, my dear..." There was just enough of a snarl in his voice to have made the point without words. Only LaCroix could mix civility and chaos in one growl-like sentence. Sandye knew enough to sit back in obedience. Acknowledging her respectful token of silence, He scanned the other two initiates, who now were carefully averting his furtive gaze. "Monica...So glad to see you again. What was it last time...oh, yes...some sort of re-decoration problem...nice to see you in more `secured' surroundings..." The memory of that wild night in the New Mexican heat could never be erased from Monica's mind. But this wasn't the time for bitter recollections. She had made her choice and with Sandye and Dennis by her side, Monica knew she would never turn back. "I hope we can start over again....Uncle." She added that only as an afterthought, but as a twisted grin crossed his otherwise sly face, Monica felt justified with her new familial ties. LaCroix laid a cold hand on each of their shoulders. He reveled in the knowledge that this war--Nicholas' creation, not his--was unfolding in his favor. For every loss there is a gain: this time, there would be two. Cousin Sandye-rah Cousin Sandye-rah.....Cwningen ----------------------------------------------------------------- --- ----------------------------------------------------------------- ------------ Date: Tue, 5 Jul 1994 11:00:22 -0400 From: "L.D. Steele" Subject: FK Wars2: The Leaflet --------------------------Prelude "Hey! Put that pile down over there." "Why? It's not as if you've been organized about where to put them before now. This place is a mess. The only clean place is the kitchen." "Since I'm never here, it always seems like too much work to pile them up neatly. However, I have good news. I've gotten some out of work Mac students to distribute them. They practically jumped at the chance to do some free travelling." "Hah! They won't have a chance to see a thing. Not at the schedule you've made up. They'll be travelling all over the world in less than two days." "It's not the middle of winter, so I didn't have to account for the snowstorms. They can drive in shifts. I'm on a tight budget." "How'd you manage to get the money to pay for the gas and the plane tickets?" "Ummm, I'm afraid I bent one of the rules and accepted a donation from Alma... She's not one of the main characters! If her following had a name I wouldn't have done it. It would break section 45a of our charter." "Why would she give a donation to us? I didn't even know she knew we existed." "It was before you joined our group. A member of ours decided that he just couldn't resist her. Went to the Raven and told her who he was and that he'd do anything for her." "So what happened?" "He did for her. You and I know Alma's a bit... careless sometimes. He ended up as a midnight snack shortly after, didn't even get to come back across. By the time she remembered him it was too late." "I'll remember that. Did she tell Janette?" "No, it all happened when Janette was away on a trip. By the time she got back, Alma had forgotten about Eric our little group. There's only so much room in her head and it was filled up a time ago." "That's what you get I guess. If you're not munchies for one group, you're casualties for another. Will the leaflets be delivered by tomorrow?" "No. I'm going to wait for a few days before busting on the scene. They'll have mostly settled into their little groups, and I'll be able to see which way the winds are blowing." "Careful there, you're sounding like you've got Ravenette tendencies starting to show up." "Don't throw stones. You've been known to, can I phrase this delicately, expound to me of your appreciation of Nick's looks." "I can't help it. He's got the most gorgeous smile, and you know how I love a nice set of shoulders. Actually LaCroix has a nice set too, although I'd have to be a bit taller to appreciate them. That man is !" "All right, I can admit to having a few appreciative thoughts myself. We must be strong though. If we don't hold fast to our principles, who will?" "I'm having second thoughts about joining this war you know. So has my educational twin. Our group could just watch like the last time." "They need us! Our ranks may swell and shrink with time, and the pressures of the other groups, but I won't be denied the privilege and honor of being able to appreciate the fascinating qualities they have." "I don't know. We're a very disorganized group. We don't even know if the other members to join in this time. Even if they do, they might have their own plans." "That's why I'm going to wait a few days. After all, it's not as if our members are even in the database that LaCroix took. It was that line in the application. I'm sure it discouraged all of our members from sending it in." "I remember that, something about picking !" "It was right in the middle, 'Favorite Character:', as if they weren't three dimensional beings at all. You'd think they were characters on a TV show or something." "Yeah, well I gotta go. I've got a busy day tomorrow, and I still have to get back to Toronto." "Sure, leave me with a mess. I'll contact you tomorrow. Do you think you can trust the email system at work?" "It's as secure as I can make it. I might not be able to get your messages right away though. The system crashes every once in a while when someone forgets to clean out their mailbox." "It's okay, I've got your emergency buzzer number. I'm sorry you'll be out of the province for the next little while." "You can handle it. You can use my place for your base of operations in Toronto while I'm gone. 'May you live in interesting times.'" "Don't say that!! I may be a committed member of our group but, I'll admit to still thinking about calling the whole thing off and not sending out the leaflets at all." "You'll do it. After all, you wouldn't be where you are in life now if you weren't a bit crazy in the first place." "It's getting late, you better go." "Goodnight Dawn." " 'Night Tracy. Have a safe trip home." steele@fern.physics.mcmaster.ca ----------------------------------------------------------------- --- ps. Eric is a fictional character ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- ========================================================================= ------------------[Tuesday, July 5th]----------- ------------------------------------------------ Date: Thu, 7 Jul 1994 15:26:24 -0500 From: Debbie Kraft Subject: FKWarsII: FOSsiLs Attack, Beta(2) -- Meet One of The Nine July 5, 1994 12:00am, Toronto time Cheshire stretched, her spine bowing nearly in half. She'd tried to sleep, but as usual on a sweltering hot Toronto night, there were too many noises out there. She stretched again, listened to her joints pop, and decided she might as well go see what was shaking on the Internet. She slipped a long silk shirt on--for the sake of propriety, nothing else; she avoided wearing clothes when she could--and padded downstairs to her console. While her computer was booting up, she walked across the living room and threw open the one window that was still closed. She thrust her head out and inhaled mightily. Ozone. Curious. Certainly wasn't any rain in the forecast. Why should she smell-- Her hackles were stiff as she threw herself into the chair in front of her console. Her face twitched spasmodically, trying to find phantom whiskers, but her fingers danced over the keyboard in a blur. Green eyes wide, she skimmed through her e-mail, scanning for one name. There. She halted the scroll, accessed the message. It read: To: Cheshire From: Sid Subject: Commando Go! Fur flies. Require assistance. Three packages, two police-oriented, need to be intercepted at the coded address below. Big Crow's flunky Cuz J has the goods. Remove Cuz J from action for as long as possible, but not permanently. One police package belongs to Dark Policeman. Enjoy barter. Live package needs to be returned soonest possible. Paper packages are open for barter. Make good deals with all parties save Big Crow--open target. Little Crow needs wings clipped. Assign projects as you see fit. All quadrupeds actively involved. Pasht be with you! So. So, so, so, so. She'd thought something was afoot. The unseen Nine rarely became so active as to seep their distinctive ozone-like scent into the corporeal realm, but it seemed that the activity of certain nightcrawlers had attracted their attention. "Thanks, friends," she whispered, once more grateful that she had chosen as she had so long ago before Pasht. Neither solid nor ethereal paws would aid her in the assignment she'd been given. No, it was opposable thumbs, all the way. Cheshire rubbed her hands together gleefully. She'd been waiting for a chance to humiliate that puffed up, arrogant, self-centered son of jackal. Not to mention his lackeys. The bartering should be fun indeed! But first, she needed to deal with Little Crow. And there was only one Nine who could successfully clip her wings. Grinning, she picked up the phone and dialed that magic, enigmatic number--999-9999. She often wondered how Panther had gotten such a unique phone number. Probably had an inside line to BC Tel. When the connection came through, she listened attentively. One ring...two...three... Click. "Pasht be with you." "And with you." "Purrpose?" "Little Crow flies too high. Sid says to clip her wings." "Done." Click. Cheshire's grin widened. She doubted if *any* nightcrawler had ever encountered a Gifted Feral, and certainly not one like Panther. She hung up the phone, thinking that if a member of Little Crow's flock tried to stop Panther, that particular bloodsucker was in for a *very* big surprise. She turned back to her computer, decoded the address for Cuz J, switched the machine off and dashed upstairs for some clothes. She had a definite feeling that those packages were going to move later in the day, and she wanted to be there to make the interception. Dressed in a light chocolate t-shirt and matching sweats, Cheshire stepped out of her loft to find a burly marmalade tom standing guard next to the door. She smiled as she set the rotating code for the door lock, then squatted down in front of the cat. "Watch well, brother. The prey is clever." {The prey is no prey. Parasites know nothing of the hunt.} "No," she murmured, "they don't, do they?" She grinned, a true Cheshire cat grin, and the marmalade tom purred as she faded completely from sight. ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Wed, 6 Jul 1994 09:47:23 -0500 From: "Sharon S. Scott" Subject: FK War II: Ornamentation I arrived in State College, PA, at 6 a.m. The map on my froggie t-shirt showed me the way to a certain Cousin's apartment. I hid in the shadows until I saw her leave for work. I got into her apartment using the key Nick had so kindly provided. Trouble was no trouble at all--that dog is a pushover for Good Boy Choc Drops. It was an interesting apartment, much like Sandy-rah had described it during that boozy night when LaCroix and Blackadder met. But I had come for one reason only--at Nicholah's behest--and I had to get busy and get back to Waco in time for work. So I went into the kitchen, grabbed a trash bag from under the sink, and proceeded to stuff the dreaded object I had come for into it. It made a very strange-looking package, pointy bits trying to poke through the plastic of the trash bag. If anyone asked me what it was, I'd have a hard time explaining it, but I was learning how to prevaricate from the Cousins. I found her car in the employee parking lot. It looked pretty good after the explosion in the last war. She must have a good mechanic. Now to attach the damn thing. Luckily I had my handy-dandy cordless drill in my purse. One of those items I never go anywhere without, just in case. You never know when you're going to have to drill someone. Excuse me, that should be drill *something*. I inserted a 9/16ths inch bit, and tightened the chuck. Picking just the right place, I drilled 2 holes in the car, and 2 in the ... thing ... and attached it to the car. And then stood back and admired my work. Just the right touch. She'd hate it. And after all, wasn't it dear Uncle who said "hate is a step in the right direction"? I *wanted* to hang around to watch her face when she came out of the building and spotted the car. I really did want to, but I had places to go, things to do, people to annoy. Dear Laurie. What would she say when she saw Irving the Dead Deer Head mounted on the hood of her car? -------------------------------------- Sharon S. scotts@baylor.edu ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Wed, 6 Jul 1994 12:46:15 EDT From: Pamela Rush Subject: July 4-early July 5 [part 2/2]-------------------------------- Later still, 4:45 am, July 5: Toronto After the clutch of Cousins had been sent on their various nefarious errands hours before, Cousin Margaret had hurried to complete her tasks so that she could sneak back to Uncle's digs at just this early hour when dawn was a mere promise in the eastern sky. Her insatiable curiosity overcoming her usual good sense, she had let herself in silently and stood, cautiously checking for sound or movement, just inside the door. He *ought* to be asleep -- just. Pamela had taunted her and double-dared her, but Cousin Margaret had maintained a dignified silence, indicating just how crass she considered the FoDly request with a mere lifting of an aristocratic eyebrow. But the truth was...the *terrible* truth was...that *even* Margaret herself did NOT know what kind of underwear LaCroix wore! And the suspense was killing her! Just a quick peek in his closet; he would never know. But as she moved out into the great room, Margaret was shocked to hear faint sounds of distress from the back and simultaneously to catch a whiff of an indescribably awful odor. What was that incredible smell? And what had it done to LaCroix? She hurled herself frantically towards the bathroom from which she could now hear the wretched sounds of someone feeling really, really unwell. LaCroix was huddled on the cold, tile floor, gasping for air as his lungs tried vainly to expunge the awful fumes. "Who's there?" he croaked out, eyes blurred by red tears. "It's Margaret. What -- " "Margaret, get rid of it! Get it OUT of here!" Cousin Margaret sprang to do her master's bidding. She flicked on the lights that LaCroix hadn't needed and immediately spotted the source of the stench permeating the room. A large manilla mailer had been ripped open impetuously and delivered its odiferous contents all over the furniture, the floor and other pieces of mail. She hurried to contain the mess in doubled plastic garbage bags. As she was scrubbing out any lingering remnants with PineSol, LaCroix came hesitantly into the room. A vampire who's had the dry heaves is a wretched being, but Cousin Margaret was glad to note that he seemed to be regaining his natural aplomb rapidly. "What *was* that?" ""It's the damned FoDs, Sir. They're totally unconscionable. I'd heard about it, but I never expected to *see* it..., she added mentally. "I think that was a quart of 'burgoo burritos'. They send the stuff to Detective Schanke." "They *hate* him that much?" "Well, uh, I think mortals view it rather differently...." "Disgusting. From now on, *you* personally are responsible for opening all the packages. Do it in the kitchen -- over the sink." "Yes, Sir. Whatever you say...." Darn it. The underwear sortee would just have to be postponed.... [end of part 2/2]----------------------------------------------------------- ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Wed, 6 Jul 1994 00:42:04 EDT From: LizBeth258@AOL.COM Subject: FK WarsII: Alma's message There it was. A message from Alma. I briefly wondered if Merlin had been keeping tabs on all us Ravenettes, just to see who was talking to whom. It wouldn't be GOOD if he came across my message to Cousin Sandye on the whereabouts of Hazel. Go to the Raven, hmmmm? Well, have laptop, will travel. My editor isn't going to like it. Then again, he had me working 15-hour shifts all July 4 weekend. The hell with it. I'm gonna tell him that I have to go visit a sick aunt. In Toronto...... ------------------------------------------------------- FAX: To: Union-Leader From: Beth Marchese Buzz, I just got an urgent call from my Uncle in Toronto. My Aunt was in a messy car accident. All of the Raven clan (hey, I AM part Indian, right?) have to be there. I'll call tomorrow to let you know everything's kosher. Beth :) ---------------------------------------------------------- Liz-Hazel :) lizbeth258@aol.com ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Wed, 6 Jul 1994 01:01:12 EDT From: "Sharon A. Himmanen" Subject: FK Wars 2: Strategy 101 Strategy 101 Sharon Himmanen Two email messages were in her box when she logged on, both from Knighties. Sharon was pleased--she hadn't yet officially put the word out to the Knighties, since she wasn't quite sure how to go about doing it, but as word of the war had spread, two of them had come to her. It actually might work this time. Still annoyed at the shut-down of her university account (something she was certain a cousin was behind), she composed the following: ----------------------------------- To: Selma and Jude: From: Sharon Himmanen Subj: Lets work together You have, of course, heard that the database Janette was maintaining, which she turned over to Nick, has been stolen by the Cousins and is now in the hands of LaCroix or one of his minions. It contains all our application information. You can be sure that LaCroix and his followers will exploit this information to the fullest. We need to work together. The Cousins were extremely effective against the Knighties during the last war due to a lack of organization on your part, their ability to isolate you, and because Sharon Scott has an easily exploited weakness. This is what I suggest. The important thing is to not let anyone become too isolated--communication and contact are our best weapons right now. Gather your group together. If the cousins go after one, then the rest jump in and help. I say we let the Cousins know that if they attack *one*, they have *many* to suddenly deal with at once. Make sure they get the message that we're all watching each others backs loud and clear. If you want to strike back, try to do it in tandem with others--keep them busy. Remember, if we organize, we easily outnumber them. Selma, I'm particularly worried about Hilary. The last contact I had with her was an email I sent to her instructing her to look at the back of her VCR for possibly connecting a PAL and an NTSC machine together. I have not heard from her since and I have this terrible image of a very large entertainment unit with two flailing legs sticking out from behind it. I'll check with the remaining members of the NatPack. Gather your group together. Find out who you can count on and what resources they might have at their disposal, computer abilities, a job that gives them access to special resources, knowledge of a cousin's weakness (for instance, I have some information about Laurie), etc. And this need not be limited to members of your own group. The more people we can get working together, the better off we'll be. Keep your ears open. And stay in regular contact. If you don't hear from someone when you're supposed to, go looking for them. And if the situation becomes serious enough, I have an ace in the hole . . . Sharon Nat Pack --------------------------------------- To: Natalie Lambert From: Sharon Himmanen Subj: Progress Well, I think it actually might work this time. Two Knighties have contacted me of their own accord. I've asked them to gather their group together and I'll have a better idea of organization and resources in a few days. As for the rest of our group, I'll have to check. --S --------------------------------------- Sharon logged quickly on to AOL and sent off both these messages. So far the Cousins had been relatively quiet--it disturbed her a little bit, but it also gave her time to plan and organize. to be continued ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Wed, 6 Jul 1994 14:52:15 -0400 From: Katherine King Subject: FK Wars II: More Die-Hards "Dawn? Hello? Are you here? ... What _happened_ in here? It looks like a paper factory exploded! Is this the big emergency?" "Hi Kathy. Thanks for coming by. Are you in Hamilton for a softball game? Oops, I guess that's fairly obvious from the glove you're carrying. It's not an emergency exactly... We just wanted to make sure that you didn't miss out on anything. You are going to join our efforts in the war aren't you?" "I hadn't really decided...I've been really busy with work and softball..." "Come on! You can't sit this out." "Ok, you're right. I don't want to miss anything." "Great! I need some help straightening up this mess and besides, someone has to deliver these leaflets around Toronto." "And naturally you thought of me because..." "You have a Metropass and can get around with out buying tokens." (sigh) "I knew there was more to this than simple concern that I was going to miss the fun." ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Kathy King Die-Hard king@astro.utoronto.ca ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Wed, 6 Jul 1994 12:31:11 -0400 From: "L.D. Steele" Subject: Leaflets: The Distribution Dawn was sitting at the computer at work. It was one of her rare free moments and she was trying to think of anything she had forgotten to do. *The leaflets are being distributed, Kathy is taking care of Toronto and those Mac students will take care of everyone else. I'm glad I didn't tell them what it was all about, this way if anyone questions them, they won't have any answers.* The mental checklist continued for awhile. The leaflets might not be distributed to everyone, but they should be able to reach a good majority. *Too bad I'm not a good computer hacker myself, but Tracy did a good job with Jeanette's computer. We have a fairly complete list. With people changing affiliations at a drop of a hat these days, the affiliation listing couldn't be trusted. That isn't a problem for us of course, but other groups who count on it might have difficulties.* *Damn! I forgot to send out a copy of our charter to the group leaders! I'll have to use a courier, but they should be able to get it by tomorrow. Those things are expensive, I wish I had some reserve money coming in. Can't take it now of course, it would be a bribe and that's against the charter.* Dawn hurried over to her desk and pulled out copies of the charter. *Hell! These things are heavy! It's a good thing I wasn't planning on distributing these suckers to . I'd have to cut down a couple of forests.* She went upstairs with the charters, and her address book to the Federal Express box. *Let's see... Janette, LaCroix, Natalie, Nick, Schanke... The rest of them are easy, but who's the head of the FOD'S? I haven't heard anything about their participation in this war. I know, I'll just send it to a couple of their members at random.* The packages were sealed and dumped into the box. *I guess it's too late to back out now. I have no idea how we'll be received though. Indifference, curiosity, animosity, jealousy? I'll just have to wait and find out.* Dawn walked quietly back downstairs. *We're in now, for better or for worse. I'll notify Tracy, and Kathy this afternoon. Right now it's time for lunch. I wonder if I should have something with some garlic in it. I might need the protection...* ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----- To: Tracy Clarke CC: Kathy King From: Dawn Steele Subject: It's started Well it's too late to back out now. The leaflets are being distributed as we speak and copies of the charter are going to the heads of the various groups. Dawn, Die-Hard forever. ----------------------------------------------------------------- ---- Meanwhile all over the world, colorful leaflets were being distributed. Not everyone received them, but the news spread fast. The message was fairly short. To Whom It May Concern: Our party is aware that a second war has begun. We wish to inform everyone involved, that we will be playing a more active role this time. If you wish more information, you can contact your group leader. We hope that with our involvement, this war can be conducted with a modicum of civility, and lack of bloodshed. Yours Sincerely, Dawn Steele Chief Die-Hard (one-year term) ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Wed, 6 Jul 1994 13:49:00 EDT From: "Asst. Listowner" Subject: *yawn* Laurie stretched a leg out under the coffeetable and continued typing... Dear Cousin John and Cousin Margaret, Found some great FK sound files thought you might like. You (or anyone for that matter) can FTP them by anonymous user from FTP.CAC.PSU.EDU or is it FTP.PSU.EDU oh, one of those should work. Start looking in the directory called 'people'. Laurie She hoped the two cousins would like the digital sounds or any one of the many members of the affiliations. Laurie sighed when she realized that this weekend she would have to start putting the digests, archives and gifs on the site too. But for now the .wav file would have to do. It is going to be a VERY long week or two... *YAWN* ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Wed, 6 Jul 1994 13:07:20 -0600 From: John Dencoff Subject: FKWar2: Mmmm! Barneyburgers! [part 1/2]----------------------- The Emperor of Harpsichords (when had he gotten that name anyway? He couldn't quite remember...) stood in almost complete shock in front of the large delivery truck. "...Barney au jus...yep, 'dat be de last o' da shipment, Mista...uh...Emperah. Sign here please." Cousin John looked on incredulously as workmen continued piling Barneyburgers on his lawn. "...Uh, where exactly did you say this was from?" he queried. "Now I don' have nonna dat kinda infomashun, man. Jus' sign my release here, and we'll be back in a mo wit' da rest of da shipments. 'Kay?" The manager stared at him irritably, holding out a clipboard. * * * Several hours later, the problem mostly sorted out, John continued with his work on Nick's files. He'd barely found the little trap on the internal modem in time, and he decided to use it to his advantage. Fortunately, all of Nick's files were de-corrupted now, and the Cousins all had safe copies of the files. But to lose the beautiful laptop...well, it was worth it. He scanned randomly through the list of Knights and Knighties, Nick's fans, and selected a random name: Brian Gerstel. Well, he didn't know this person, but at this point any of Nick's followers would've done. Quickly he scribbled down the address, and sent mail to one of the Cousins in Gerstel's area. Soon, poor Gerstel would be in a world of trouble...especially after John anonymously contacted the FBI with a little crimestopper tip. And re-installing that horrid virus on Nick's laptop, of course. John suddenly glanced over at LizBeth's rabbit. It was attempting to silently munch on its carrot, and gave a small startle as John walked over. Those Barneyburgers had been more than enough for dinner...and breakfast...and lunch. What was he going to do with little Hazel? She was too cute to eat, anyway. He chided himself over his little caprice: he would just have to stop doing these little impulse things and be more clever...like Uncle had taught him. Well, he had the rabbit...how could he turn this into something really devilish? He sighed, trying to think of something while offering little Hazel some of the leftover Barney au jus. * * * [end of part 1/2]----------------------------------------------------------- Cousin John Emperor of Harpsichords jdencoff@polaris.unm.edu ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Thu, 7 Jul 1994 13:43:00 EDT From: 'Most Holy Subject: FKWAR II- A FOSsil enters the fray [part 1/2]----------------- A FOSsil Enters the Fray To the casual observer on the metro train that evening, the bearded man boarding the Red Line train was just another body to absorb into the evening crowd. Few cared enough to look up from the Post to notice the reddish tint to his eyes. Further, it is unlikely most would have understood his kind or his calling that evening. "Let's see" he thought to himself, if I make it to Union Station by 8:30 I can make my "selection" for Cousin Lisa and still make it back to the pub for a set or two." He then recalled that SHE would be waiting to see his purchase and would not be pleased if he delayed past her bedtime. So as the train pulled into the station and the hoards of post-July 4th tourists muddled the fare machines, he quickly edged past a particularly annoying group from Pigsnuckle, Arkansas and headed for the Nature Company and his intended surprise...He thought back to the events of the past few days and had followed the early stages of the II FK WAR with interest. But it was the abduction of Hazel that had prompted his conversation earlier with the Siamese... ---------------------------------------------- "Let me get this straight, you_still_ have not decided which faction to join?" The one known on the net as "'Most Holy," eyed the cat with some chagrin. "Well you now how it is with these lists, if you're not 'In' you can be really 'out' of it." The Siamese passed across the top of the computer desk and with an annoyed reach, snatched 'Most Holy's beard so as to look into her human's eyes. "I don't care how 'out' of it you are, I've been reading the downloaded files from the war and there is only one choice for us, the FOSsils!" "FOSsils...hmmm. I had a feeling you were going to say that so I already contacted The Chief FOSsil and requested permission to send the Cousins a little 'gift." 'Most Holy batted his eyes at the cat, "Remember that librarian-Cousin in South Carolina, the one that the Short One talked about? Well, she's won the lottery if you get my meaning!" "Hah! I knew you couldn't stay out of this for long, seminary or no, all that time in the military has you eager for a well-run war. Well now that__We've__chosen sides, what is your plan?" With an easy manner, the Siamese had jumped on 'Most Holy's shoulders and with a flick, switched the screen off... -------------------------------------- As 'Most Holy strolled into the Nature Company, he noticed the time, "Hmmm, 8:15. Enough time to find the perfect present for a Cousin and still make it back for a session. Chewie can just stay up and watch Letterman's top ten list!" A short time later, parcel in hand and a most unholy grin showing through the beard, he showed his trophy to the Siamese. "Put that snake down and let's talk!" The Siamese's rat-like tail had exploded into it's full caterpillar mode. "THAT'S what you are sending! What is her name again anyway?" "Um, Lisa-something, McDavid I think." "Are you sure your name is 'Most Holy?" "Why do you think there is an apostrophe in front of the "Most" for? It means _Almost_ Holy!" "And I'm really a Great Dane!" The Siamese rolled her eyes (As best a Siamese can do). "Well now what?" "Now my dear cat, in the morning after my bike ride, I stop in at the mail-room and send this delightful warning, err, gift to Cousin Lisa by UPS overnight and see if we can't get Hazel back." "While you're off doing that, I'll be here packing, you know how annoyed those Cousins can get, if Uncle finds out it was you it could be trouble." "Oh, ye of little faith..." [end of part 1/2]---------------------------------------------------------- Humbly submitted by a FOSsil, 'Most Holy Otter@DRYCAS.Club.CC.CMU.EDU" ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Wed, 6 Jul 1994 16:32:00 EDT From: LizBeth258@AOL.COM Subject: KF Wars II: A mysterious message [part 1/2]------------------- Her first thought when she looked around the fleabag motel she checked into was: *This is what I get for following orders.* Her next thought was: *I hope the roaches don't carry me away in the night.* That settled it. She was sleeping with the lights ON. She settled down her suitcase and pulled out her lap-top. After struggling to connect with the closest AOL node (after hours of swearing and cursing Steve Case's name), she checked her mailbox. Praise the Lord! A message from Sandye-rah. When she opened the letter, she decided that if God wasn't out to get her specifically, then He had it in for reporters in general. In sum total, it said that she found Hazel, but the situation was out of her hands. *No doubt because "Uncle" doesn't want a repeat of the Wicked Warren situation, even if he WAS the force behind it. He almost lost control of that one,* she thought with grim amusement as she pictured LaCroix's unblinking stare fixed on his minion to make sure she wasn't up to bunny tricks. The responsible party, the message noted, would contact her. In time. But there was a price to pay for it. The next move was up to a certain reporter. Don't blow it. *Great. Just great. Rock and a hard place. I'm definitely Alma-food,* she thought. Not that Janette was an inspiring leader, but the lifestyle appealed to her. Mostly because she couldn't AFFORD to live a lifestyle that was even remotely similar. It was getting dark out. Best to get some shut-eye. THEN she thought of what Hazel does when it gets dark out. She sniggered. Whoever was holding the rabbit was in for a loooooong night. -------------------------------------------------- [end of part 1/2]---------------------------------------------------------- --------------------------------------------------------- Liz-Hazel lizbeth258@aol.com ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- ---------------[Wednesday, July 6th]---------- ---------------------------------------------- Date: Wed, 6 Jul 1994 16:32:00 EDT From: LizBeth258@AOL.COM Subject: KF Wars II: A mysterious message [part 2/2]------------------- John was still busy pouring over the files on Nick's notebook when he first heard it. BANG! BANG! BANG! He followed the grating metallic noise only to see Hazel impatiently swinging around a metal wire mesh ball around the cage. Each succeeding bounce off the bars seemed to inspire a VERY satisfied look on the rabbit's face. "GIVE ME THAT!" he growled, snatching it out of the cage. The rabbit gave him a baleful look and settled into a camel position, eyeing him warily. He returned to his computer and was about to settle in the chair when he heard yet another racket coming from Hazel's cage. BANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANG Swearing to chicken fry her in oil, he stomped over to the cage only so see her, ears flapping, throwing her food dish around the cage. "FINE! I'll feed you carrots and the lettuce from those blasted Barneyburgers, then." He yanked the food dish out of her mouth and put it safely outside of the cage. He was only half-way across the floor when yet MORE banging was coming from the cage. Lacking metallic implements to make the satisfying clang signalling that she wanted to be let out *now* for a run, Hazel had decided to stamp her back feet in a show of frustration. Naturally, John, who may be called the Emperor of Harpsichords, but knew absolutely nothing about rabbits, had no clue what she wanted. He would have to ignore it as best as he could, which wasn't terribly well at all. Two hours and a pounding headache later, he decided that he MIGHT be tempted to try her with mustard sauce, if only he didn't need to keep her alive. Later that night, when he tried to get some well-deserved shut-eye, he discovered what exactly a rabbit sounds like when it snores. [end of part 2/2]----------------------------------------------------------- --------------------------------------------------------- Liz-Hazel lizbeth258@aol.com ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Wed, 6 Jul 1994 13:07:20 -0600 From: John Dencoff Subject: FKWar2: Mmmm! Barneyburgers![part2/2]------------------------ Brian awoke to someone pounding at his door. Good grief, it must be three in the morning! As he pulled the door open, bright lights hit him in the face, so he could barely see who was there. "Hello...Brian Gestrel? I'm Agent Muldur, and this is my associate. We have reason to believe that you are operating a dangerous computer virus out of your home. Here's our warrant." Astounded, Brian let Muldur push his way inside. "What's...what's going on?..." he tried to ask. But the agents had already made their way into the back rooms of his house. "Here's the culprit, Muldur..." one of the agents offered. It was a small laptop, probably worth thousands of dollars, and it was connected to Brian's outside telephone line. As they watched, a little purple dinosaur danced gaily across the screen singing love songs. It was almost painful to watch. "Sir, it's been downloading copies of this virus for at least the past five hours...to God knows where," another agent replied. "It seems that it has been targeting specific people, according to an internal e-mail address list that it has... a group called the knighties, or something...". Agent Muldur looked sharply at Brian. "Well, Mr. Gestrel, do you have an explanation?" * * * John read through his mail...a note from Sandye about LizBeth's rabbit. Goodness, these pet-owners can sure be defensive about their pets, he thought. I wonder how she figured out it was me who took Hazel. "Oh well, we all must be prepared to pay for our mistakes...and maybe this can be used to my advantage. Or maybe LaCroix's advantage anyway..." Rapidly, he typed out a response to Sandye: TO: Cousin Sandye FROM: The Emperor of Harpsichords I certainly hope you didn't tell LizBeth that I have her rabbit. Anyway, it's safe. We should use this to turn LizBeth to our side. A little bribery, perhaps...? Uncle seemed to think we could salvage the situation without having to immediately turn the rabbit over. More details later...this rabbit could be more important than I originally thought. It could be used as a dramatic and rather ironic counterpiece to remind people about the Wicked Warren and not get *them* involved again... More details later...it could really be a master play! CJ Then a quick note to Cousin Margaret: TO: Cousin Margaret FROM: The Emperor of Harpsichords Hey, cuz! I've secured the rabbit! This could really be good! Apparently, LizBeth contacted Sandye about it. Sandye just wrote me, saying she wanted it returned... More details later...don't forget to meet me in Denver, CO next week!! CJ [end of part 2/2]----------------------------------------------------------- Cousin John Emperor of Harpsichords jdencoff@polaris.unm.edu ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Wed, 6 Jul 1994 16:03:05 18000 From: Valerie Meachum Subject: FKWars2: Dino-Therapy... There. It was complete. Once the envelopes arrived, any Mac-using NatPacker or Knightie with the capability to run QuickTime movies needed only a little double-click for a welcome bit of cheer and confidence. The rest had to go to slightly more trouble, pop in the tape marked "For Medicinal Use Only" into the VCR and starting it from the beginning; but the relevant few moments were on each tape several times, so it wouldn't be too inconvenient. "Let those Cousins *try* that tactic this time!" Valerie smugly challenged the deserted BalletMet administrative offices as she disconnected the VCR from Marketing/PR's pretty new PowerPC, which she had learned from Sharon H could grab video bits straight off the tape. It was rather a large file, and she set to work crunching it into a self-extracting archive so it would fit on disks for her compatriots. One more test run. Valerie clicked on the "play" button, and sat back to observe with vicarious satisfaction the abuse heaped on a goofy animated orange dinosaur of unmistakable origins by the Warner Brothers and Their Sister Dot. That hated melody took on a delightful resonance as the digitized cartoon san the last line... "I stand still for the Anvil Song!" KLANNNGGGG!!!! Armed with this image, no bright soul would be cowed by Cousin-sent Barneys. -- The Bad Penny * Valerie Lynn Meachum ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Mon, 4 Jul 1994 15:17:43 EDT From: Tokaara@AOL.COM Subject: Friends of Sidney on Alert FRIENDS OF SIDNEY ON ALERT As soon as he heard the garage door close, Gandalf pounced on Merlin. "Wake up, little brother," he hissed. Merlin meowed loudly in protest. "Hey, watch it! You could stand to lose a little weight, you know." He paused, licking a paw and grooming the fur back into place on his head. "What's so important that you had to interrupt my nap?" "You remember that little problem I told you about?" "Which problem?" "On the computer. The has started." "What ... oh, the . How do you know?" "She thinks I'm just being cute when I jump on her lap, but I've been reading her e-mail. This morning I saw a message ..." "So it's time, then." Merlin rose to all fours and stretched as only a cat can. "You got it. We have to get in touch with Sidney and make sure he knows what's going on." Gandalf jumped down from the living room chair and headed for the stairs. "Hey, big brother, how can we do that?" Merlin leapt down to follow. "I know her logon and password. Now that she's leaving the office door open, all we have to do is turn on the computer and the modem and away we go." The two felines climbed the stairs and went into the home office. Gandalf leapt onto the couch and proceeded across the desk to the computer. He nudged the power buttons for the computer, monitor, and modem with his nose, then hopped down into the chair to wait for the system to boot up. The sound of Uncle's voice coming from the speakers made Merlin jump. "Can't we do something about that Windows start-up sound?" he complained to his companion. "Then she'd know we'd been at this thing. Do you really want that? You know how the Cousins get." Gandalf concentrated on getting the America On-Line software active. "We can send something to the list, but we'll have to put her sig on it. Cousin 'Tok', indeed!" "You can't leave humans alone for a moment, can you? I mean, they're getting into trouble. Where would they be without us to clean things up for them?" Merlin wondered aloud. "Once we get in touch with Sidney, everything will be fine. It's always up to us cats, isn't it? Now let's see, what was that e-mail address?" +----------------------------------------------------+ | Lisa Luksus tokaara@aol.com | | Cousin 'Tok' | +----------------------------------------------------+ | That which does not kill me had better be able to | | run away damn fast! | +----------------------------------------------------+ ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Thu, 7 Jul 1994 13:43:00 EDT From: 'Most Holy Subject: FKWAR II- A FOSsil enters the fray [part 2/2]----------------- A FOSsil Enters the Fray The next day as the chocolate colored UPS van drove up to the USC library, Cousin Lisa glanced out her cluttered office and thought, "Ah, the UPS Woman, always a welcomed sign. UPS never brings bad news." She reached for her snack, "Is this a librarian cliche or what?" Taking a sip of cinnamon tea and reaching for her blueberry muffin, Lisa hoped it the UPS lady would have something for her. When the delivery-woman left, Cousin Lisa started to open the package before noticing the package had no return address that she could place. "DC, hmm? Maybe Cousin Buffy sent those Inter-Library Loan materials that I had trouble tracking down. But from a seminary?" As Lisa grabbed the log-book from the shelf to take down the invoice number, she thought, "I really must try to get up to DC while the Folk Life Festival is going on. Maybe after the war." Years later the staff at the library would still refer to what followed as Lisa opened the package to as, "The Scream." After dropping the rubber snake into the box and heaving it into the hallway, Lisa grabbed her keyboard and alerted the Cousins of a FOSsil prankster. "And I thought Merlin was the only PITA on the list! I've never heard of this 'Most Holy, but perhaps someone else has..." [end of part 2/2]----------------------------------------------------------- Humbly submitted by a FOSsil, 'Most Holy Otter@DRYCAS.Club.CC.CMU.EDU" ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Thu, 7 Jul 1994 15:08:43 EDT From: Lisa McDavid Subject: FKwars2: Family Feud Does Not Include Felines To: Otter@Drycas Subj: Thank you! From: Tizzie, Bama, Java and Mocha Address: Some place in DC; it's torn, too. E-Address: Otter@drycas (another rip) Wanted by July 8th Special Instructions: Ship by priority mail, patron will reimburse. QL666.O6 (Snakes, zoology), SF459.S5 (venoms) 615.942 (venoms), Serpentes 639.366, 639.146 (culture and hunting), 597.96 (zoology) And she sent Larry a message to say that she might not actually kill Alexandra since he had been so nice about the program to put in Interlibrary Loan Requests for everything in those numbers from all lenders on OCLC. Oh, well, it probably doesn't matter. She always tells people that she can't be sane or her immediate family wouldn't consist of four cats. Tizzie (who knows how to use the computer), Bama, Java and Mocha Cousin Lisa (Probably on the wrong side of the blanket) Lisa McDavid d020214@univscvm (bitnet) d020214@univscvm.csd.scarolina.edu (internet) ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Wed, 6 Jul 1994 17:27:47 EDT From: SelmaMc@AOL.COM Subject: The Damage that has been Done Selma looked at the email message in horror. "Virus? what virus?" she said in confusion. "You mean that huge block of nonsense that arrived in my mail was a virus? Good thing I deleted it." Good thing, she thought, that AOL couldn't receive internet files. "Brian couldn't have done it," she said quietly, knowing that her fellow Knightie was innocent. She contacted her friends, Valerie and Sharon. To: vmeachum@freenet.fsu.edu, Romana From: selmamc@aol.com Subj: The Virus This is hoping this gets through.... I think that someone is trying to discredit Brian and I think I know who... I also have a plan. Selma She sent that out, and then tried to contact Brian. He wasn't home and she was afraid that something had happened to him. "Cousins, for sure," she said. "Now who could have done that?" She considered, and remembered how good Cousin John was with computers. She resolved to do something about his troublemaking. She booked a flight from Sac Metro in the evening, with a round-trip ticket for later that night. Arriving at John's door, she applied her lockpicking lessons to the door and got in. Going through the place, she gathered up all the disks she could find and put them in her sack. She noticed the scared-looking rabbit and picked the rabbit up too. She managed to get out of his place and sneak off stealthily. She wondered how much it would cost to get the rabbit back home. Probably a bit. Oh, well, she thought, as she went to the airport, rabbit in tow. to be continued... ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Wed, 6 Jul 1994 19:03:33 EDT From: Sylvia Colston Subject: FKWARS: Amazing Grace "Date: 94-07-06 01:10:50 EDT From: Black Iris Subj: Hey Girlfriend! To: AmazGrace@aol.com Hey Girlfriend! How's life? I haven't heard from you in a while so I thought I'd drop you a line. I'm in Chesapeake now and, yes, it's much warmer than Maine was (Brrrrrr). Maine was prettier, though. No moose here, but lots of wolves, esp. on the beach. I need to tell you a bit of news. I can't go into much detail, for reasons I can't go into. Nat and Det. Knight are going to be under a bit of pressure in the next few weeks. I should say, a bit more pressure than usual. Some old "friends" of the good Detective are planning some trouble for him on the .net. It will probably be isolated to the .net, but you never know, so keep your head down and your eyes open, chica. I wish I could say more, but I'm sworn to secrecy! (shhhhhhhh) Mainly I think they're going to need moral support (or immoral, knowing you, you bad thang!) Killer says "woof." (That's terrier-talk for "Hi, Grace. She's being awfully mysterious, ain't she?" Yes, terriers can say a lot with a woof.) -Iris" Grace sat back and pondered this bit of mail. It seemed that she was always surrounded by secrets, and didn't she like figuring them out! Nat had been in a bit of a dither the past few days, and Grace had been worried. Now it seemed she had cause. "Old 'friends', huh? I wonder...." She typed a response to her erstwhile penpal and logged off. "Date: 94-07-06 15:33:45 EDT From: AmazGrace@aol.com Subj: Re: Hey Girlfriend! To: Black Iris Hey Girlfriend yourself! Since when are you black : ) ? Thanks for the warning, Iris. I thought something might be up, but I wasn't sure how to ask Natalie about it. You go on and keep your secrets, I know you have people to protect and I won't pry. I'm glad you're finally warm again, btw. Why in the world did you go to Maine in the wintertime? I would have thought staying a little closer to home until spring would have been better. You told me Dallas was nice in the wintertime. Personally I would have stayed. Talk to you soon, 'girlfriend' ( : ) ) , Grace" ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Wed, 6 Jul 1994 21:52:35 -0400 From: Ivy Reisner Subject: FK WARS2: Plastic Power Ivy sat at her keyboard at work. She never saw the first fk wars, never declared her alliance for the second. Perhaps that was for the better now that the database was stolen. She searched the database for any credit cards under the name LaCroix and found both a Visa and a Mastercard. Well, Nick might not approve, but she'd put her job, and the access it provided, to strike a blow of her own. *Let's see. Fifteen thousand dollar charge, that should be good, drive him right over his credit limit. Now we'll change his last payment date to six months ago, good, his credit bureau report should be updated this weekend and he'd be sent to a collection agency.* Satisfied she updated the accounts, then started her search for accounts of other known cousins. Nick definitely would not approve. She only hoped the other knighties would have her after this. ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Wed, 6 Jul 1994 18:08:50 EDT From: SusanG2522@AOL.COM Subject: FKWarsII--Traitor at the Gates Traitor at the Gates The fax sat on her coffee table, beside the computer. The boxes were piled on the floor, beside the partially stained wall unit, which held the television and VCR. Cousin Laurie picked up the fax again, read it, then looked at the boxes in dismay. Up until now, it had all been pretty much a game. She'd sent the fax to Janette almost on a whim. But here it was--put up or shut up. Monica, it seemed, had pissed off Janette royally by defecting. And now Janette had dropped the ball into Laurie's court. For ex-Ravenette Monica was now a Cousin. And it was up to ex-Cousin, now Ravenette, Laurie to earn her wings by showing Monica exactly what it mean to cross one of the original dark ladies. Laurie very carefully opened the cover of the cardboard box and looked inside. For a moment, the glare dazzled her. But then she got a really good look. There was only one reaction-- "Ick." --- Cousin Sandye was typing frantically at her computer, trying to figure out the vagaries of AOL and casting vicious glances at that horrible mouse that the interface seemed to require too often. It had been a busy morning for herself and visiting Cousin Monica. They'd had breakfast (but NOT at the Waffle House) and had tooled around for a while on odd errands. By the time they'd gotten back they were bushed. Monica had fallen asleep on the bed in the corner of the room as the television behind them blared a succession of inane children's daytime programming. An occasional rustling sound bothered Sandye. She looked across the dining room, but Shane wasn't in the garbage and was happily asleep in the kitchen doorway. Shrugging her shoulders, she turned again to the screen and peered at the bright AOL menus, trying to figure out where she was and where she wanted to go. A sudden shriek from behind her gave her a start. Sandye pushed back the chair and leapt to her feet, her heart in her throat. And it stayed there. Monica, who'd gone to sleep in a shirt and jeans, was now sitting upright in the bed wearing what only could be described as the most hideous gold lame' peignoir set ever devised in any Dynasty inspired nightmare. For a few seconds, all Monica could manage were incoherent sounds, ranging from outrage, to shock, to absolute horror. She sat quite still because the damn thing rustled every time she moved. Sandye, for her own part, kept her hands over her eyes and started hunting around for her sunglasses--the gold lame' shone brilliantly from every stray gleam of light from the balcony. Finally, Monica dropped to the floor and lifted up her suitcase, desperate to find something--ANYTHING--else to wear, so that she could get on with trying to figure out what had happened. But her limited--her mom had packed a pillow--wardrobe was gone, replaced by other equally hideous clothing. Some of it was gold lame', others were cunningly devised fuschia patterns of scorpions (with babies on their backs) and coyotes. All in all, it was heinous stuff. "I can't go out wearing this!" cried Monica. "Well, you can't stay here wearing ," answered Sandye, taking her hand from her eyes for a moment as she searched her pocketbook for her sunglasses. Almost immediately, the gold lame' stunned her and she dropped her hands over her eyes again. "Okay, who took my sunglasses! They were here. I know they were here. Somebody stole my sunglasses. Or I left them at--no. Wait a minute. Here they are." The situation didn't look any better once she was wearing the sunglasses. It was then that she realized that Shane had covered his eyes and snout with his paws and Gwen had become a shivering bundle of bunny at the bottom of his cage. "It had to be Janette!" growled Monica. "Only she'd know where to get her hands on stuff like this." "Guess she didn't like the phone call." "Well, too bad. If she thinks--" Then Monica paused. "She sent somebody over here, didn't she?" "Shane would've barked if someone came in. And the door was locked. It would have had to have been somebody with a key, somebody that Shane knows." They stared at one another for a moment because they knew exactly who had been the perpetrator of this evil deed. --- Back in her apartment, Laurie send off a message to Alma, conveying the report of her attack to Janette. She'd heard Monica's initial scream through two closed doors. Grinning, she finished typing the message, then returned to playing with her GIFs. Being a Ravenette wasn't all that different from being a Cousin, she decided, lifting her glass of wine. And maybe just a little bit better. Uncle, after all, didn't provide an allowance for bar tabs. And, unlike Janette, he always asked for receipts . . . . (SusanG2522@aol.com w/ the permission of the very busy ex-Cousin Laurie) ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Thu, 7 Jul 1994 05:20:07 -0500 From: "Cousin Monica@LaCroix.cac.psu.edu" Subject: FKWAR2: Dreaming of the Fright Dreaming of the Fright Poor, poor Susan. Poor, dear Susan. I guess after a weekend with the cousins, even Janette's creative consultant could get a bit looped. The drive to Toms River had been longer than she expected...road construction, traffic, the occasional diversion from her thermal roadmap...yes...poor, dear Susan was at the end of her rope. Finally back at her home, Susan dragged herself in through the door and up to her waiting computer. It had been almost ten hours since she last checked her mail, and with the war-train steaming ahead, she needed to keep abreast of all the new developments. But there was Walter Mathau, whining for water and eager for a friendly hug. "I missed you too, grumpy..." But the little dog was acting mighty strange. It must have been Shane's hair on her clothes...either that, or Sandye had wiped the chicken off the wall with her shirt. Regardless, her furry friend was NOT happy to smell the lingering scent of Sandye's menagerie. Susan had no choice but to turn her attentions to the dog. Later on that evening, she managed to make it back to her computer. Yawn.....Yawn......Yawn......Yawn......Susan logged on to her AOL account, and as she clicked her mouse and moved her fingers uncertainly over the keyboard, the final stages of fatigue set viciously upon her. SNORE. DROOL. FLIBBER. SNORE. Susan woke with a start. "God, how long have I been asleep?" She looked to Walter, but Walter didn't care. After all, he was only a dog. Looking for the clock, she stumbled into the kitchen. "Five in the morning? I've got to be to work by eight." Through bleary eyes, Susan hit the button to acquire her mail...at least she could read it before leaving. One by one, the war posts scrolled by, one by Cousin Sandye, one by Cousin Monica, one by..... "WHAT!!!!!!" Poor Walter. It was ten minutes to Whopner and it would take at least a hour to scrape the poor little guy off of the ceiling. Susan's unbelieving eyes scanned across the message she had mistakingly sent sometime during the night. "But I write anything!" Poor Walter. Mom was slowly losing her marbles and all he could do was to hang there and complain. Shaking with fear, not to mention sleep deprivation, Susan read the bogus message called, Traitor at the Gates. She couldn't believe what she had done. Sleeping at the computer was one thing, dreaming was another...especially when one has over-active fingers (well, four anyway). But to have written out her dream and posted it? Poor Walter. Mom would never be quite the same again. And what a dream! Gold lame? Coyote clothes? Scorpions? That's the last time she'd let Cousin Sandye cook for her! Must have been the chicken...somehow the evil cousins had laced hers with a slow acting sleep agent...Poor Walter. The view was nice from up there, but when all was said and done, he would have rather gone to Epcot. Susan read on, terror filled her heart. Poor Walter. It seemed the whining would never stop...funny, Mom never made sounds like that before. "It doesn't even make sense. How did the peignoir set get on Monica? Everyone knows that Monica wakes up violently if you touch her. There was no way that this could ever have happened. Racing to the kitchen cupboard, she reached up for the bottle of Amaretto; ripping off the cap with her teeth, she downed the browned juice. Poor Walter. He'd never get a walk at this rate. At least if he had to go, she was in no condition to punish him. Poor Susan. Poor Walter. Cousins Sandye, Monica, and Dennis ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Thu, 7 Jul 1994 10:21:01 EDT From: Pamela Rush Subject: FK Wars II: FoDly plans Wednesday, July 6, lunch time: The Macaroni Grill & Cantina (KY) "Tony's making rellenos and salsa chile rojo for dinner." "That's perfect, Sher. Call him and tell him to make *lots* and put in extra garlic." "Why? You guys coming over?" "No, we've got tons of moussaka left over from the Fourth party and a lot of guests brought dishes and left stuff, too. I have a feeling that it's a good idea to stock up on supplies, just in case." "Now, Pamela, you *know* FoDs don't get involved --" "No, no, no -- I wouldn't think of it. Nothing like actually interfering, or mixing it up, or taking them on, or going mano a mano --" "Ok! I get your drift. But *no* involvement is the FoDly way." "We won't get involved; we'll just be prepared. And, of course, if we happen to have a lot of extra supplies at hand, we could offer a little sympathy, comfort and sustenance where it will do the most good." "Yeah, I guess that wouldn't hurt." "So, call Tony after lunch and tell him to make a really big batch of rellenos; I have moussaka, humus, taramosalata, kim chee, babaghannoush, guacamole, yaun pla muek, ratatouille, paella, moo goo gai pan --" "Wait a minute. Moo goo gai pan doesn't have any garlic in it!" "I know, but it's Schanke's favorite carry-out." "Well, in that case, you know...you haven't included anything that, uh, Nick would eat." "Sherry, from what I hear, this whole mess is really his fault." "Yeah, maybe, but...he's just so...." "Hopeless? Helpless? Clueless?" "No! Well, sometimes, but...." "I know, I know. You just have a soft spot for chubby-cheeked blonds. Ok. How about some blood sausage? I have some in the freezer. I could whip up a batch of 'Ducks Blood Soup,' but I don't think it would travel very well." "No, the sausage will be fine. Just so he knows we didn't forget him." "You wanna send Dr. Lambert some microwave popcorn so she'll know we didn't forget *her*?" "That's not the same. How are we going to get this shipment to Toronto? We know the mail has been compromised and I'm not sure that the phone and computer lines are secure anymore, either." "Oh, well, FoDs don't have any secrets! Still, I'm going to set up our number one alternate supply route and I'll look for at least one reliable communications route, too." ------------------------------------------------------------------ FAX MEMO TO: NatPackers, Knighties & Die-Hards FROM: Pam Rush, FoD DATE: Wednesday, July 6, 1994 SUBJ: Supplies Our lines of communication to Toronto have been disrupted but information discovered on the Internet and in the Die-Hards informative leaflet has persuaded the Bluegrass FoDs that foul play is involved and we fear that the Toronto allies may be severely harassed by that delusional madman LaCroix again. FoDs are at less than full-strength currently: Merle is off-line and we can't get Cal down off the ceiling (where she has been since her visit with Det. Schanke last month). Don's whereabouts are unknown but one should never discount him as a force to be reckoned with if he gets irritated. Of course, FoDs won't engage in war, per se, unless our souvlaki supply is threatened, but we are anxious to continue to lend support and sustenance to those factions aligned with Det. Schanke's partner. Although Schanke himself will remain blissfully unaware of the darker machinations of that delusional madman LaCroix, we know, too, that he will be, as always, stolidly/ *solidly* standing at his partner's shoulder when the need is great. We are establishing secret supply lines to Toronto that, I think, neither LaCroix nor his deluded and deranged henchpersons can know of. ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Fri, 8 Jul 1994 10:04:00 -0700 From: Ava Chan-Crowder Subject: FK WARS : A New Operative 6 July 1994 12 noon, PDT Ava put down her copy of the San Diego Union Tribune classified ads and her neon yellow highlighter. She rubbed her eyes. Darn tiny print! Reading the Sunday want ads was starting to really get on her nerves. "Unemployment really sucks. There must be something out there for me to do", she thought to herself. Slowly a smile spread across her face. She knew what she could do. It was time to get to work....work that she knew in her heart of hearts that she would enjoy. She turned on her IBM and logged onto her local BBS.... -Join- -Internet Conference- -Send email- -------- To : SelmaMc@AOL.COM SCOTTS@BAYLOR.EDU >From : ava.chan-crowder@wcoast.cts.com Subject : New Operative Hi Sharon and Selma - I have been lurking for the past couple of months, and I am now ready to join in the war. Being unemployed, I have all the time in the world, and I now submit myself to be your newest operative. Luckily, my affiliation wasn't known when Nick's laptop was stolen, (my application is still sitting in front of me) all available information about myself is also at a minimum (no Barney fears here). Additionally, there is nothing here to keep me in San Diego during the war...football season hasn't started yet and there are no current job prospects. I am available ASAP wherever the Knighties need me. I look forward to working with you all. ~~~Ava :-) AvaABC123@aol.com ava.chan-crowder@wcoast.cts.com "If we don't stand together/we stand to lose the future" Queensryche -------- -Save- And the message was sent to the active Knighties that Ava knew of... except for that Brian Gerstel, who last she had heard, was still being held by the authorities. She didn't know if he was actually in their custody, or if it was false information spread by the Cousins. Either way, she thought it was best that neither the Feds nor the Cousins knew of her intention to participate in the war. All that was left to do now, was to pack some clothes and various other items.....and wait for a reply from either Selma or Sharon. ---- * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * West Coast Connection - San Diego, CA - PCBoard MultiNode BBS * * SysOp: don.presten@wcoast.cts.com - (619) 449-8333 - 24 hours * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Wed, 6 Jul 1994 19:03:03 -0800 From: "S. Tanaquil Johnson" Subject: FKWars2: More Trouble Than You Can Shake a Stick At[part1/2]-- More Trouble Than You Can Shake A Stick At Wheezing athsmatically, the ancient and Agonizingly Slow StyleWriter on Tanaquil's desk printed out the last of the most recent installments of the War. *Keeping up with these shenanigans is becoming a full time job*, she reflected. Everything else had ground to a halt. Tanaquil was positive that the six-foot weeds in the garden were Cousins. She could hear them laughing at her. Dissertation? What dissertation? Ptolemy Philopator, the Jews and the five hundred drunken elephants would have to do without her. There was a War on. It was time to make contact. To: shihc@cunyvm.cuny.edu Cc: vmeachum@FREENET.SCRI.FSU.EDU From: pinax5@garnet.berkeley.edu Subject: NatPack Hi! Sharon H., Valerie, what's going on? The NatPack has been awfully quiet in the midst of all these bunny-nappings and Barney jokes. What's the grand plan? I don't know if I appeared on your list of Natalie's supporters. I never got Laurie's message about declaring affiliations, so I don't know if the Cousins even know I exist. They seem to have their sources, though. I got an incomprehensible message last night from Laurie responding to a message I started but never sent. Weird, huh? I'm using an old common departmental account until I can get the security on my own account checked out. Anyway, Sharon H., if you're organizing the NatPack, count me in. In fact, I have an idea I'd like to run by you... Tanaquil ---- As the DC10 touched down lightly on the runway of the Oakland airport, Tanaquil tossed aside *Love's Savage Bosom* and allowed herself a very small smile of satisfaction. It was a pity to have to use up those frequent flier miles, but it was in a good cause. With any luck, Cousin John wouldn't discover the hidden video camera she'd left running until it was too late, and she would be able to get a really good shot of the look on his face to convert into a GIF for the list's collection... ---- [end of part1/2]--------------------------------------------------------- --- S. Tanaquil Johnson ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Fri, 8 Jul 1994 05:43:58 -0500 From: TMP_HARKINS@DIRAC.PHYSICS.JMU.EDU Subject: FKWARSII--Sandra Is Confused [part 1/2]----------------------- July 6, 1994, 5:30 PM: "Hi, hon," said Bruce, as he came in the front door and plopped gratefully into the living room recliner. "Long day at work?" He nodded and sighed. Then he said, "I'm glad my vacation starts tomorrow. Where's Amanda?" "Outside playing." A slight smile crossed Bruce's face. "I _did_ find something interesting _after_ work today, though." 'Not another book for the burgeoning book collection, I hope,' I thought. Bruce reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a small leaflet. "New religious tract?" I asked, since he collected them too. "No. But something amusing. Here." He held out his hand and I took the piece of paper from him. It read: To Whom It May Concern: Our party is aware that a second war has begun. We wish to inform everyone involved, that we will be playing a more active role this time. If you wish more information, you can contact your group leader. We hope that with our involvement, this war can be conducted with a modicum of civility, and lack of bloodshed. Yours Sincerely, Dawn Steele Chief Die-Hard (one-year term) "Isn't it wild?" asked Bruce, grinning. I looked at him. "This is something you faked, isn't it? A joke, right?" "No, I swear I didn't make this up. But it _is_ funny." "But if you didn't do this, who did?" "Maybe it's from Dawn." "Oh, come on! That would be taking the Wars fiction a bit too far, don't you think? I mean, that would mean she's 'flipped a gourd.'" Bruce merely shrugged, still smiling. I frowned, thinking. As far as I knew, none of our friends were "Forever Knight" fans. Of course, I _had_ corresponded with some FORKNI-L folks off list--could one of them have done this as a prank? "How did you get this?" I asked. "I found it on my windshield after I finished looking around at the mall." "Just on our car?" "No. Looked like a lot of other cars had them." That was rather far to take a joke, even if printing the leaflets was relatively cheap. 'Now, don't let your writer's imagination run wild,' I thought to myself. 'There has to be a reasonable explanation for this.' But my thoughts crept to a science fiction idea about a world where a man's real life and death were filmed for _entertainment_. But that couldn't apply to "Forever Knight." It was just a TV show. I looked over at the computer. It was an old DEC Rainbow 100 that we had hooked up while our good computer was under repair. Bruce had said it was too primitive for any exotic "computer viruses" to affect it--not that we would be targets for any of that anyway. Bruce had declared on the list that he was a Die-Hard, but it appeared most people had forgotten that. And _I_ had never declared an affiliation at all (that could be useful). What was I thinking? This "Wars" stuff couldn't be real. Could it? [end of part 1/2]----------------------------------------------------------- --Sandra Gray --tmp_harkins@dirac.physics.jmu.edu ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Wed, 6 Jul 1994 13:34:00 PDT From: M'lady Printcap the goddess of peripherals Subject: FK Wars II: She's Baaaackkk INT. OFFICE NIGHT Jennise stands at the window staring out at the moon. She taps her foot anxiously. LaCroix hands her a wine glass. LACROIX September grows closer. JENNISE Not close enough. LACROIX Is everything ready? JENNISE If checked with the producers yesterday. They found a way to switch the companies episodes with yours. LACROIX And our episodes? JENNISE Sixteen in the can. They look wonderful. LACROIX Good. JENNISE So it's going to be pretty boring around here for a while. LACROIX (smiles) I supposed you have an idea of how to break the boredom? JENNISE Oh definitely. Haven't you been checking the list? The war started last weekend. LACROIX And you and the Cousins can't wait to jump in? JENNISE No. He quirks an eyebrow at her. JENNISE I was pretty damn independent before one of those Cousins set me up. Not that I regret our meeting. But I had refused to tie myself to anyone. LaCroix advances on her. LACROIX You've got ties to me. JENNISE (nervously) Well yes. But, you see, I consider myself a Daughter of LaCroix. I'm not one of _them_. What I meant to say was that I'm not tied to the Cousins. LACROIX They have my protection. JENNISE I owe them! At least I owe Karin. LACROIX And you'd like revenge. JENNISE Cut me loose on this one. I promise not to make too big a mess. LaCroix considers for a long moment. LACROIX I suppose you deserve some reward for the episodes you've written. Remember our bargain. JENNISE I do these eps. You'll make me the hottest thing in television. LACROIX Don't make 'too big a mess.' JENNISE I can do it? All the groups are fair game? LACROIX This should prove interesting. JENNISE Yes! She throws her arms around LaCroix and plants a kiss on his cheek. JENNISE (continuing) Thank you! He stares incredulously at her. JENNISE Sorry. She dashes to the door. JENNISE I'm gonna enjoy this! ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Wed, 6 Jul 1994 23:27:13 -0500 From: "Sharon S. Scott" Subject: FK War II: In Which A New Virus Is Set Loose July 6, 1994 Dear Diary, Another undecided has chosen the Knighties! Ivy makes ... 1 ... 2 ... 3 ... oh, who knows, a lot, anyway. Knighties don't seem to have that same "herd" instinct that the Cousins do. We don't travel in packs, like hyenas or warthogs. Let's see, what's the appropriate appellation? A murder of Cousins? A den of Cousins? A squabbling of Cousins? A venom of Cousins? Whatever they call themselves, they seem to have no minds of their own--they have to have Uncle to tell them what to do. Usually in great detail and very slowly. Makes one wonder what they do when there's no one to give them instructions. The NatPackers seem to be going into "helper" mode. The Ravens and Ravenettes seem to be hurling accusations at one another. The FoDs probably won't do anything unless their souvlaki supply is threatened. And the FoSsils are still an unknown quantity. And the AlmaDens haven't been heard from at all. I still wonder what would happen if Janette wasn't around to put the lid on dear sweet Alma. I have to feel pity for her--we all know what it's like to be under the thumb of an irascible boss. And all poor Alma ever wanted to be was a dancing doctor. Looks like she'll never get her wish unless, somehow, she can break away from Janette. Haven't heard from Nicholah since yesterday, and I'm beginning to get worried. If anything happens to him, I think quite a few of us will walk out into the sunlight, sans sunblock and dark glasses. But we'll take a few of the Cousins with us, willingly or not. Tim called a few minutes ago. He's put his plan into action. He explained it to me *again*, but it's way over my head. I still don't know Unix from a hole in the ground, and to me, C is a grade, and Pascal is a writer. ASCII I know about, because of the library system and the net, but I still think modems work by means of magic. Tim swears the thing will have the desired effect, but I'm not so sure. It's awfully easy, I've heard, to trace things like that back to the source. And I DO NOT want the FBI, the FCC, the ATF, the fundamentalists, or the Daughters of the Texas Revolution descending on the campus. We have about all we can handle with cheerleading camp and hordes of junior high debaters as it is. ............ Now there's an idea--free food for LaCroix! YES! Wonder if Laurie has managed to get Irving off her car hood yet? She ought to be thankful I didn't install a tape of "The Eyes of Texas" in the thing. But somehow I doubt she is. I'm so happy that Hazel is safe. Poor bunny. Will she ever be the same after her horrible experience? Will she be traumatized? Will she truly turn into Bunnicula? Did she wreak her revenge on John before she was rescued? No word on what's happened to Lisa. Is she still in the clutches of the FBI? If I know catalogers, and I *do*, she'll figure some way out of this mess. Catalogers learn the rules, and then spend the rest of their working lives bending them. And I'm worried about Cousin Margaret. She's young, and easily swayed--that's probably how she became a Cousin. She didn't know any better. Or Cara drove her to it. I know what a delicate stomach she has, and having to ... ummm ... clean up after LaCroix's little accident couldn't have been pleasant. And while she's being LaCroix's minion, who's taking care of her animals? Did she take them with her? Is LaCroix being threatened at this very moment by Jamie the VamPeke? Well, all will become clear in time, I suppose. Stay tuned. A demain. ---------------------------------------------- Sharon S. scotts@baylor.edu ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Thu, 7 Jul 1994 00:53:18 -0400 From: "L.D. Steele" Subject: FK WarsII: The Die-Hard Charter July 6th, 9pm Hamilton was finally started to cool off. It had been one of those incredibly hot and humid days where moving outside was an effort. People scuttled from air-conditioned building to air-conditioned building. Of course the crazy ones went to the gym on the McMaster campus. It was to have air conditioned, but it never seemed to be in evidence. Dawn got home from the gym just after 9pm. *A full day at work, 2 grueling hours of Karate, and then a bike ride home. It would be a lot more fun if it wasn't so @#$#%!!! hot.* She dumped the damp clothes and changed into far more skimpier attire. *I'm glad I don't have to worry about company tonight. Right now I'd be willing to pay for air conditioning.* After checking her email for any messages from Kathy Tracy, or anyone else reporting in, she sank down into her soft futon chair and started to relax. *Hmmm. If the courier people work nights, (1) the head honchos should have gotten their mail by now.* (1) <-Remember, this is fiction. I can do it if I want to. :) Reports were starting to come in from various people (human or otherwise) sympathetic to the Die-Hard cause. Monica had the deserted the Ravenettes and joined the cousins. It had been quite a loud switchover, and the repercussions were still being felt. Cousin John had apparently kidnapped a bunny and LaCroix was pleased. *I wonder how many computer viruses will be transmitted around this time. It's a good thing I backed everything up before I entered the arena. Norton anti-virus can't handle everything.* Dawn's eyes closed briefly and thoughts of Barney stickers and Barney bubble bath started to drift through her mind. *It's a good thing I don't have a Barney phobia, or any other major ones. A small healthy fear of heights just doesn't count. Besides, parachuting pretty much killed that one.* Dawn got up and made herself a late supper. *I wish I could know how the others will react. Later reports just aren't as nice.* Meanwhile all over Toronto and the world, packages were opened and read... -------------------------- Natalie picked up the package off her desk. Even with the war on she still had to work. Unexpected packages were treated with a lot more suspicion however. She cautiously opened the courier package and a heavy document stapled at one corner spilled out. The front page announced the document title in large type. The Authorized Charter, version 2.3 Produced and Published by Die-Hard Inc., A Non-Profit Organization. *This thing must be over a hundred pages.* Natalie started to idly flip through. *Mmmm. What this?* "...Section 12: Any Die-Hards (having publicly stating their membership) should not be forced into choosing any affiliation. Any party found to be involved in such activities will lose our services as neutral bargaining agents. Furthermore if the offense is found to be part of a general plan, the party will also be refused entrance and sanctuary at our local base of operations, the St. George Residence..." *I wonder if Nick got one of these?* Natalie sat down in her chair and picked up the phone. Still reading the charter she punched in Nick's number... ------------------------------------------------------------------- Meanwhile, Sometime that night... LaCroix was dressed elegantly in gray silk pajamas and a red and black dressing coat. He was lounging in an easy chair and wasn't planning on getting up for a bit. He still felt a little queasy from that FOD package he'd opened the day before. Physically he was fine, but the thought of unsuspicious packages containing such vile cargo turned his stomach. Cousin John had been reading the charter out loud for the past hour. Even skipping some subsections he was only on page 34. "...Section 45a: While this organization will accept anonymous donations from members of the various parties, no donations will be accepted from any leader of any party. Furthermore, no donations will or can be accepted once a war between the various parties has started." "Reread that section. And stop muttering oaths, I can hear everything you say." LaCroix had an amused smile on his face. Cousin John might have some interesting plans to use the rabbit to bring Beth Marchese over to the Cousins, but that still didn't excuse the other consequences. Several of the other cousins were upset at John, and it wouldn't do to have dissention in the ranks. A little semi-public punishment and the cousins would be able to work together as agreeably as they ever did. Cousin John voice was started to get a little scratchy. *All I need is to get a bad case of laryngitis in the middle of a war. Hades! I wish I could get a drink of water...* Being fully aware of possible outcomes if he obey Uncle at the moment, he started to reread the section. ------------------------------------------------------------------ Meanwhile at the Raven... Alma had been threading her way through the Charter for almost an hour. While not a lot of the contents stuck, she had always liked to read law books and had a subscription to various study reports. She was having a pretty good time. "...Section 87: In the case of any member of any party wishing to plead sanctuary. Rooms will be available at the St. George Residence for the duration of the war (subject to section 12). No holy objects are allowed on the premises. The residence is equipped with basic defenses against attack, and is armed against aerial entrance with motion detecting ultraviolet lasers. Once a party member has entered the residence, they should refrain from attacking any other persons also there seeking sanctuary. ..." "Alma! Get in here right now!" Janette voice from the other room. It sounded urgent, but then it was urgent. Alma put down the Charter text and went into the other room to see what Janette wanted. A few minutes later, any memory of it had already passed through the short-term memory into blank nothingness. The bartender picked it up. Having been picked for his looks and not his ability to read the written English language, he looked at it for a minute and then stuffed it into the lost and found box. ----------------------------------------------------------- Meanwhile in Nick's loft... Rrrrringg! Rrrrringg! Rrrrringg! "Yeah, Nick Knight..." SLAM! The party on the other line obviously did not feel like leaving a message. ------------------------------------------------------------- Meanwhile at Pamela Rush's place... The package was addressed c/o FOD member. After putting it through the portable x-ray machine she kept in the hall closet for just such occasions, Pamela opened the package and started to read... ---------------------------------------------------------------- Dawn steele@fern.physics.mcmaster.ca ----------------------------------------------------------------- --- war --sb krig, ufred; (fig) kanp, strid; vb fo(slash)re frig; kaempe; at ~ i krig; (fig) i strid (with med); have been in the -s (ogs) vaere slemt medtaget; council of ~ krigsra(o)d; etc. war game --(mil.) krigsspil, T papirkrig. ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Fri, 8 Jul 1994 05:43:58 -0500 From: TMP_HARKINS@DIRAC.PHYSICS.JMU.EDU Subject: FKWARSII--Sandra Is Confused [part 2/2]----------------------- July 6, 1994, 10:00 PM: I sat at the computer looking at my message. Was I being foolish to send it? Would people think _I'd_ flipped a gourd? Well, I could always claim it was a bogus message or a joke if it came to a question of my sanity. I had been turning the situation involving the leaflet over in my head all evening. Bruce and Amanda were safely tucked in bed which only left me with more time to ponder the matter with no distractions. The note was addressed to three people I knew from reading FORKNI-L were prominent in their respective groups and to a fourth, maybe quite important, person (the supposed leaflet creator). I couldn't remember anyone prominent from the Raven/Ravenettes. It read: To: scotts@baylor.edu, shihc@cunyvm.cuny.edu, pkrush01@ukcc.uky.edu, steele@fern.physics.mcmaster.ca From: tmp_harkins@dirac.physics.jmu.edu My husband Bruce returned home today with a "leaflet" from Dawn Steele, the "Chief Die-Hard," that said, in part, "Our party is aware that a second war has begun." Is this for real? Is there a real FK Wars going on? Please respond asap. --Sandra Gray --tmp_harkins@dirac.physics.jmu.edu [end of part 2/2]----------------------------------------------------------- ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Thu, 7 Jul 1994 04:00:38 -0500 From: Cousin Dennis Subject: FKWAR2: Riding Through the War Riding Through The War The plan was simple. LaCroix had kept it that way; after all, Dennis was a new cousin and loyalties had to be tested before they could be relied on. Hopefully, this would seal the bond that would forever make Dennis a cousin. "What do you want me to do?" The young novitiate seemed eager to please LaCroix. "Nothing too dramatic...just prove to me where your loyalties lie, and I we're going to get along just fine." Uncle eyed up his new toy, hoping for success, but ready for failure. "What's your plan?" "Janette has sent the traitorous Laurie a fax...my spy in the Raven came across some rather information. Unfortunately, the fax records were deleted before he had a chance to retrieve it. I want you to intercept the fax before it gets to Laurie. I trust you can do this?" "Consider it done." Dennis smiled knowingly and shook Sandye's secret collection of Laurie's keys. "I see you like to come prepared..." "That's what comes from being a Scout." Dennis slammed the door and raced down the stairs. LaCroix smiled quietly to himself... "I like you young Dennis. You've got..." Interrupted by the arrival of Cousin John, Uncle turned and made his way to the balcony and the warm night air. ---------------------------- Dennis' new Saturn flew down the highway like a fine white stallion riding through the night. This had been an easy assignment. The keys had slipped into the lock on the computer building door without a hitch. The fax had just come off the machine and laid face down, untouched. With no one there to log it in, Dennis took it and ran, leaving no trace behind. ------------------------- Staring at the uniformed figure stepping smugly through the doorway, LaCroix chuckled devilishly at Dennis...finally, someone who knew the importance of covering all the bases...someone who could dot all the I's and cross all the T's...yes, this one would do just nicely. "Do you have what I wanted?" "Yes I have. As Dennis walked back to give the precious fax to Monica, LaCroix revelled in the knowledge that for once in his life, someone was doing it his way. Cousin Dennis ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Thu, 7 Jul 1994 17:08:46 -0600 From: John Dencoff Subject: FKWar2: Defective Cousins Cousin John stared in silence after LaCroix and Cousin Dennis abruptly cut off their conversation when he'd entered the room. Without a word--and perhaps a small hint of derision on LaCroix's face--both of them turned and left the room without saying another word. *What had happened?* John thought. *LaCroix used to encourage the Cousins to act semi-independently, and now he's alienated poor Laurie and is treating the new converts like slaves.* It was true. LaCroix was playing some much bigger game, and the Cousins were gradually being replaced. This couldn't just be about the rabbit, he thought. No, if his plans had come to fruition, LizBeth might be a Cousin right now. There was something deeper going on, and LaCroix apparently didn't trust all the Cousins with the plan. Certainly something involving Janette and the Raven. Well, he thought, I'm tired of being used to run interference for LaCroix. Some of the things he'd done for LaCroix weren't simply twisted, but downright evil...like trapping poor Brian with the laptop and its virus, eventually sending him to jail. Brian couldn't possibly break out of that by himself. The evidence was too well set up. Dennis left in a rush, headed for his car, a smug expression on his face. *Let's see that expression in a few years, bub...*John thought bitterly. Shadowing behind Dennis, collecting his disks first (and a few of LaCroix's personal disks accidentally at the same time), he got in his car and trailed the new Cousin. He tried to remember what he'd overheard...something about a FAX to Laurie. Dennis eventually drove up to a small building, got out and used *Sandye's* set of keys to let himself inside. John quickly pulled up in a small alleyway so he wouldn't be noticed. "Some sort of fax, hmmm...." Well, tapping into the phone lines was child's play, with the hardware he'd stored in his car. Soon enough, the fax arrived, and John downloaded it to his small notebook computer. Maybe Laurie wouldn't get the FAX, but she'd get Janette's message: he typed a quick message to her via e-mail, and sent the contents of the FAX immediately after. TO: Laurie Salopek FROM: Cousin John Hey, I heard about the fallout with the big L. I'm not doing that well myself. I thought I owed you one, though--here's a fax from Janette that LaCroix tried to intercept. LaCroix has seen it, just so you know, but I don't think he'll know I'm giving you a copy. BEGIN article xx-j.001: xxkrth5520.002 >>>article attached and sent...next? This would definitely get him on LaCroix's bad side, without any doubt. But the deed was done. Laurie would get the FAX, if in a different form. Reading it over quickly, he almost lost his balance. "Geez! What the heck?!" Janette was certainly going to make Laurie prove herself...and this little FAX would change everything. This decided it: he would no longer be following LaCroix's twisted plans, and what Janette had in mind wasn't going to be a joyride either. He needed some way to escape, and he had no place to...unless... TO: Sharon Scott FROM: Cousin John Sharon, I know seeing this will be something of a shock, but you're the only Knightie that I could think of on short notice. LaCroix has totally lost it, and Janette is brewing something big. I can't go into the details, but I feel bad for what I've done in LaCroix's name. Can I trust you to use the info I've got? Attached to the end of this will be decisive proof that Brian Gestrel could *not* have produced the computer virus that landed him in jail. It's part of the original source code for the virus, that no one could know except the creator. This will free Brian--can I trust you to get it to the FBI? Please try not to incriminate me. I'm leaving LaCroix for good. I'll try to get the disks to you as well...but there's too much here to download by phone. If you can get there, without getting caught, try to meet me in Dallas, TX at the Waldenbooks on main. I can give them to you then. Here's the sourcecode: BEGIN FILE xx8-007.001... >>>file transmitted and sent...next? Well, that did it. In one stroke, he'd severed his ties to LaCroix...and LaCroix wouldn't be pleased. Dennis came out of the computer building then, triumphant with FAX in hand. * * * Sharon stared at her computer screen in disbelief. It must obviously be a trap...but the sourcecode was authentic! She thought carefully, then put in a call to one of her friends... ----------------------------------------------------------------- --- Cousin John Emperor of Harpsichords jdencoff@polaris.unm.edu will he become: ?? Sir John Knight Repentant jdencoff@polaris.unm.edu ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Thu, 7 Jul 1994 02:42:06 -0500 From: Cousin Sandye-rah Subject: FKWAR2: IN THE CAGE In The Cage One of the last things LaCroix had told them was to avoid missed opportunities. Too many of these petty skirmishes were unnecessary; if he wanted to extend his control, they would have to find a way to maximize their efforts. Monica, Dennis, John, Sandye--cousins all--soon discovered that one such opportunity was about to land right in their collective laps. The secret was would need to be told. Cousin Laurie's dilemma weighed heavily on Sandye's mind. As if the night had not been full enough of surprise, that note sent by her old friend had fallen like a bombshell on her unexpecting head. Well, that was a lie. For some time now, Sandye had known about the disappointment Laurie felt about being a cousin. Perhaps it wasn't fun anymore. Perhaps the last war had simply taken the mickey out of her. Perhaps she was just getting too old for games. Who could say... What really mattered was that Laurie was defecting to the Ravenettes. Discarding her cousin-garb like so much wasted time, Laurie ran like a rat to a pipers tune. The fact remained that she had been in secret communication with Janette--that fax had been the final step in a long line of deceptions--and now, there was nothing Sandye could do to save her old friend from disaster. The door was closing slowly behind her; like a bird in a cage, Laurie had sealed her fate. Cousin John waited patiently in the parking lot at Toftrees; how long it would take Uncle to return, he had no idea, but still, this time he would follow Uncle's instructions to the letter. Thank goodness someone had taken Hazel back...he felt bad enough about his little trick, and she had really been such a clever bunny...now he didn't have to worry about that anymore. A smile crossed his face. There would be quite a lot of cursing when those Knighties tried out the disks they had taken...yes, it oh-so good to be handy with computers. Spare disks in hand, John stood, just as directed, by the blue Chevy docked opposite Sandye and Laurie's apartment building. LaCroix was late, as usual. "Don't tell me....John following orders...and so diligently....what has become of you?" LaCroix placed a firm hand on the cousin's shoulder. What might have been terror turned quickly to triumph, and in that moment of question. Uncle's laughter redeemed John from his previous mistakes. "I'm just doing what comes naturally...being a cousin that is. Here are the disks." "Good. And the bunny?" "Taken back. Or rather stolen back...someone saved me a lot of trouble." "Next time, save us all the trouble and ...you know how I to prove my point." John knew nothing of the sort, but he wasn't going to argue about it this time. Without so much as a warning, LaCroix picked John up by the shirt and lifted them both up to Sandye's balcony. "Third floor...women's lingerie, power tools, sporting goods..." After dropping John on the far end, Uncle made his way past the gas-grill and into the living room. Gathering himself together, John followed along, disks still clutched tightly in one hand. "I hope you enjoyed the ride." "And if I didn't?" "I could always try a route.." "I the ride." "Now how did I know you were going to say that?" "Must have been an inspired guess. Have you decided what we're going to do about Laurie?" The question hung like a dead breeze in the muggy air. "All in good time Sandye, all in good time. Has Dennis returned yet?" "No...not since ten o'clock...I thought it just a bit funny when Dennis ran out of here..." "And Monica?" "Back in the bedroom working on the computer. I take it that they're on a mission..." "Sometimes, my dear, you're tendency for understatement is sort of amusing...and then there's times like these..." "Sorry. Maybe if you just told me what we're going to do about Laurie...I mean, well, if it's going to be something serious..." Sandye stopped, afraid to let Uncle see her dread at the prospects of cousin-ish retribution. "I have something special in mind, and someone just as special to carry it out. So how about it...are having an inspired guess?" "I'd say I could bet the farm on it." "Good. Well, let's get on with some serious business...what about those rabbit-people?" "The Brethren? I think we might make some of them change their minds...especially when they find out what Janette's trying to pull." "Dear Janette...she couldn't have made it any easier for us, could she? That's what happens when you let your rule your head.... " "Or your heart..." Sandye turned around to see Dennis standing by the door, some sort of paper in hand. "Have we found what we were looking for?" "Yes we have. I'll just take it into to Monica, then?" Dennis motioned toward the bedroom, and after receiving the go-ahead from Uncle, slipped casually away. "One down, two to go...I just love it when a plan comes together..." The sentence trailed off behind him as he took off into the darkened sky and onto the next stage of the game. Cousin Sandye-rah ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Thu, 7 Jul 1994 04:18:40 -0500 From: "Cousin Monica@LaCroix.cac.psu.edu" Subject: FKWAR2: The Grand Parade of Lifeless Packaging FK WARS 2: THE GRAND PARADE OF LIFELESS PACKAGING Monica sat down at her computer after reading the fax that Dennis had given her. She felt that she owed her former allies and Warren members at least a warning of the impending danger. She logged into her temporary account, opened her mailer and started typing. ----------------- TO: Brethren of Wicked Warren (catmclah@central1.library.uq.oz.au, tara@hydra.unm.edu, LizBeth258@aol.com, SusanG2522@aol.com, vmeachum@freenet.fsu.edu) FROM: Cousin@LaCroix.cac.psu.edu (Cousin Monica) SUBJECT: Don't kill the messenger!...please! I wanted to take the opportunity to warn you that Janette has targeted those of you who chose to ally yourselves with the Warren in the last conflict for having divided loyalties. Unfortunately my defection has brought her wrath down on you. She means to make an example of you by testing Laurie, her new convert, to see whether her loyalties truly lie with the Ravenettes. Cousin Monica -- The General (who hopes that you won't be blinded by her defection) ----------------- She sent the letter and started to think. "Would they wallow in their own prejudicial hatred of all that the Cousins and LaCroix stood for?" No, Monica, in her heart, believed that they would hear what she had to say. "After all, wasn't Sandye a cousin? Didn't we start the Warren to bring peace to the squabbling factions? And didn't they all place their trust in us then?" Surely they had to see the truth. Janette was twisting everyone to play her game. And Nick himself had broken the truce. The Cousins were not the evil minions in this conflict. No, this time it was Janette, one so wrapped up in self-preservation that she did not think to protect those protecting her, and Nick, a self-loathing, spoiled brat. There was safety in being a Cousin; even Lisa, a hold-out die hard, was now a Cousin. Yes, the balance of power had shifted and power, of course, was not always a bad thing in the grand parade of lifeless packaging. Monica hoped her fellow Brethren would make it through this baptism of fire. Cousin Monica ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Wed, 6 Jul 1994 19:03:03 -0800 From: "S. Tanaquil Johnson" Subject: FKWars2: More Trouble Than You Can Shake a Stick At[part2/2] By the time John got home, he was absolutely ravenous, and in a thoroughly foul mood. He was still fuming over the loss of his best furry asset, and a continuous diet of Barney treats hadn't helped. But he'd gone shopping earlier today, and was looking forward to a good meal uninterrupted by malevolent delivery persons and leg-thumping rabbits. In his hurry to get into the kitchen and start dinner, he didn't even notice that the fruit bowl was ominously empty and that the pretzels had gone from the top of the fridge. Then he opened the refrigerator... ... and began to scream. There was absolutely nothing in it but protein shakes. Green protein shakes. Shaking from head to foot, the Emperor of Harpsichords began to read the labels. "Pistachio." "Mint Delight." "Kiwi Surprise." OH HORRORS!! "Mango chutney." He yanked open the freezer, and discovered that it was full of orange protein shakes. "Tropical Sunrise." He didn't even want to know what was in that one. A mango-guava-passionfruit blend, no doubt. "Baby Aspirin." He slammed the freezer door and started flinging open cabinet after cabinet. Every single one was full of powdered protein shake mix. One label caught his eye. It read "Chocolate Marshmallow Licorice". He could hear himself whimpering. Then he saw the bottle on the table, with the note attached. The note read: Dear Cousin John, Rabbit is really very bad for the diet. I think you'll find this to be an improvement. You know the routine: A shake for breakfast, a shake for lunch, and a sensible dinner. Bon Appetit! 'With Affection', Tanaquil, NatPack John examined the bottle warily. It *looked* like red wine. Surely a follower of Natalie's wouldn't have -- As if compelled, he found himself pouring a glass and lifting it to his lips. The next minute he was spitting and choking. It wasn't blood. It was much, much worse. It was undiluted Ribena. S. Tanaquil Johnson [end of part2/2]---------------------------------------------------------- ----------------------------------------------------------------- ---------- Date: Thu, 7 Jul 1994 16:24:56 -0500 From: Debbie Kraft Subject: FKWarsII: FOSsiLs Attack, Gamma(3) -- Through the Looking Glass July 6, 1994 10:00pm, Toronto time Cheshire arrived at the address just in time to see Selma leaving with a bundle of computer disks and a rabbit in a cage. Knightie commando run, of course. But how did the rabbit get wrapped up in this? She shrugged, figured it didn't matter in the long run. Sidney had said to get the rabbit back to her owner "soonest possible," and Cheshire wasn't about to flub an assignment. As Selma was loading her booty into a rental car, Cheshire slipped up behind her and dexterously impaled the side of Selma's neck with an acupuncture needle. The rabbit squealed in alarm as her hutch fell from Selma's nerveless fingers. "Shhhh," Cheshire whispered, struggling with Selma's inert body. "We'll be out of here in jig time, I promise." The rabbit's liquid brown eyes rolled around in a mix of puzzlement and fright. {Who? Who?} "Hoo, hoo? I thought you were a rabbit, not an owl." Cheshire laughed at her joke, fishing for the keys in Selma's pocket. She found them, unlocked the passenger back door, and gently reclined Selma onto the back seat. "Name's Cheshire. Part of the FOSsiLs. Just sit tight, and I'll be done in a jiffy." {Can't see!} the rabbit complained. "Course not, silly. You don't think I'd do this visible, do you?" Cheshire shot the rabbit an annoyed look. "Now hush. There are other things that can hear you besides me. Let's not attract their attention." That shut the bunny up, and Cheshire loaded her hutch on the passenger side of the car up front. She glanced around, made sure that all was quiet, then followed Selma's scent back up to Cuz J's apartment. An examination of the lock showed it had been picked, but that wouldn't serve her purposes. Instead, she pounded on the door authoritatively. It took a second pounding, then the door swung open to reveal a pale fellow all frowsy with sleep. "Huh? What?" he mumbled, looking up and down what Cheshire knew, to him, was an empty hallway. She waited until his expression became completely confused, then plunged the needle home in his neck. He immediately slumped forward, and Cheshire grunted under his weight. With effort, she managed to drag him back into the apartment and lay him out on the floor. Just for kicks, she folded his hands over his chest in true nightcrawler fashion. Bad joke, true, but she just couldn't resist. She turned and surveyed the room then, looking for the other "packages." The laptop was easy to spot--and smell. It practically reeked of that blood-and-ancient-dust stench that *always* accompanied bloodsuckers and their belongings. However, this scent was *just* a tad different, so Cheshire knew it had to belong to the black cat of the Toronto bloodsucker family, Nick Knight, the "Dark Policeman." She unplugged all the whatchama- dohickeys Cuz J had on it, folded it up, tucked it under her arm, and took another look around the room. Five off-white mail sacks sat almost sullenly behind the open apartment door. Cheshire's shoulders sagged as she stared at them. "Paper packages," she muttered. "Dammit, Sidney--you could have told me how much these 'paper packages' were going to weigh!" Chewing her lower lip, she thought a moment, then paced over to the windows. She threw up the dark shade, then checked the locks. Ah, good--they *did* unlock. She eyed unconscious Cuz J, thinking that he probably kept them well oiled to let in the Big Flea. Sniggering, Cheshire unlocked the window and took a peek as to where the rental car was parked relative to the apartment building. Pasht was smiling on her: the car was close, but not too close. It would work. She put the laptop down on the coffee table in the living room, and proceeded to wrestle the five weighty mail sacks to the window, up to the sill, and out. The first one went well, and made a satisfying "whomp" as it hit the pavement below. By the third, though, she was strongly wishing she had brought Panther with her--she definitely could have used the Feral's strength. As it was, she managed to get all five sacks out the window without, praise be to Pasht, receiving a hernia for her troubles. After all that, getting them into the rental car's trunk should be a piece of salmon. Before she left the apartment, she tucked the laptop under her left arm once more, then took the small can of spray paint out of her sweats' pocket. Grinning like her namesake of Wonderland, she sprayed the following message on the inside of the apartment door: Amen-Ra blazes fire upon you! Burn, servant of Nightcrawlers, burn! She finished the mark off with the cartouche of Amen-Ra, Pasht, and a stylized paw print. Satisfied with her handiwork, Cheshire ran hot-foot down to the car, heaved the mail sacks into the trunk, and slid behind the wheel. As she turned the engine over, she allowed herself to slip back to visibility. Next to her, the rabbit started. Cheshire grinned at her, then pulled the rental out onto the streets. {Go home, now?} "Yer darn tootin', bunny-britches. Just give me directions." It was the first time she had ever seen a rabbit smile... /\ /\ ^o o^ D.K. "Cat" Kraft ->T<- cat@eskimo.com ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Thu, 7 Jul 1994 00:44:04 EDT From: Sharon Himmanen Subject: FK Wars2: Bang the Drum Slowly Bang the Drum Slowly Sharon Himmanen To: vmeachum@freenet.fsu.edu, Romana From: selmamc@aol.com Subj: The Virus This is hoping this gets through.... I think that someone is trying to discredit Brian and I think I know who... I also have a plan. Selma ----------------------------- "No, no, NO!" Sharon nearly screamed in frustration as she read Selma's email. "Blast these Knighties AND their patron!" Now Selma had gone off half-cocked on some crazy scheme and no one had any idea where she'd gone or who she'd gone after! "So much for communication," Sharon said to nobody in particular. She moved to the next message. To: shihc@cunyvm.cuny.edu Cc: vmeachum@FREENET.SCRI.FSU.EDU From: pinax5@garnet.berkeley.edu Subject: NatPack Hi! Sharon H., Valerie, what's going on? The NatPack has been awfully quiet in the midst of all these bunny-nappings and Barney jokes. What's the grand plan? I don't know if I appeared on your list of Natalie's supporters. I never got Laurie's message about declaring affiliations, so I don't know if the Cousins even know I exist. They seem to have their sources, though. I got an incomprehensible message last night from Laurie responding to a message I started but never sent. Weird, huh? I'm using an old common departmental account until I can get the security on my own account checked out. Anyway, Sharon H., if you're organizing the NatPack, count me in. In fact, I have an idea I'd like to run by you... Tanaquil ------------------------------------------ Well, that looked promising. She hit the reply button. To: Tanaquil From: Sharon Himmanen Subj: Re: NatPack ---------------------------------------------------------------- Good to hear from you. At the moment I'm going insane trying to get the Knighties together. Selma has gone off on her own without telling anyone what she's up to or where's she gone to. Frustrating--they're so like Nick in that respect, rushing off on some half-baked crusade. I don't know how Nat puts up with it. Valerie is busy with her various therapies. They seem to be working--Sharon Scott was actually able to wear the shirt. The plan as it stands now is to be backup for the Knighties should they need it. LaCroix and his cousins seem to be targeting the Knighties (are we surprised by this) so I think they'll need the help. Brian Gerstel could use a hand right about now I think. Selma seemed to think he was in trouble. I found myself wondering about this whole mess this evening. What could LaCroix possibly want with the database? I mean, what possible use could it be to him? *He* knows who *his* followers are. Nick has some prominent followers on the list. All of us who aren't cousins are targets by default. I'm beginning to wonder if this whole mail/database thing isn't some kind of red herring for something larger. Maybe there was something else on Nick's hard drive. Maybe all this has very little to do with the mail or the database. Something is bothering me--the cousins are behaving much too reticent, it seems to me (although I'm sure Brian would disagree). Anyway, you mention an idea you want to run by us. Fire away! Sharon Himmanen NatPack ------------------------------------------ Sharon pulled up Selma's note again and read it over carefully. Computer virus? Two names popped into her head immediately--Larry Merlin and John Dencoff. Shaking her head, she immediately ruled out Larry. He had a certain flair, a certain artistry. While a computer virus was certainly within his capabilities, she could only see him doing something like that as a security precaution. If he wanted to use the computer to "get at" someone, you can bet it would be an elaborate scheme. But she could easily see a cousin twisting that precaution and unleashing it upon a group of hapless Knighties! And that meant that John had been a bad boy. * * * * * John leaned over the sink retching out the last of the undiluted Ribena that loathsome NatPacker had left for him. Of course he'd been a fool to drink it, but it was still her fault! It had been a bad day. First the virus Merlin had concocted on Nick's laptop, then the Barneyburgers. Someone broke into his home, stole his computer disks and that damn rabbit. And now this! Green protein shakes and Ribena! Sleep, that's what he needed. He was almost glad the rabbit was gone--sheesh was that thing noisy! * * * With a small cry John jerked awake, his heart pounding in his chest. He'd been dreaming about rabbits, big furry horrible rabbits that made lots of noise and . . . He sat bolt upright--what was that tapping noise? Hazel was gone. Someone had taken her away earlier this evening. tap . . . tap . . . tap . . . At first he heard single tapping, but it was soon joined by another and another and another until the house was filled with tapping sounds. "What the hell?" John growled, flinging the covers off in frustration and heading for the living room. The tapping was getting louder and louder by the second. He swung the bedroom door open and stopped dead in his tracks. They were on every flat surface of his apartment, the floor, the tables, the bookshelves, the TV, the computer. They were everywhere. They marched back and forth, banging incessantly on their little drums. His home was filled with Energizer bunnies. And more were coming in the windows, dropping onto the floor and resuming their monotonous march. bang . . . bang . . . bang . . . John staggered backwards. This was some surreal nightmare, he thought to himself as he moved back into the bedroom without looking. But they were here too. John stepped on one and felt a brief moment of satisfaction as he heard it crunch beneath his foot. But another slammed into his ankle, catching it just right and he yelped in pain. Instinctively he clutched his foot, hopping around. This, of course, proved to be a huge mistake as he landed on another one. But now there was no time to gloat--he landed flat on his back and suddenly there were bunnies all over him. They marched up and down his legs, across his abdomen. They trampled on his face cutting off his cries for help. They just kept going and going and going . . . | Sharon Himmanen | shihc@cunyvm.cuny.edu * romana@aol.com | | Nat Pack | s.himmanen@genie.geis.com | ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Thu, 7 Jul 1994 20:14:00 EDT From: "Asst. Listowner" Subject: Damn The Fractals! Laurie saved her database of all the Tshirt orders. Things on that end were looking good. She had just talked to Dana and she said they would slide the order in after the Arts Festival. What this all meant was that at least she would have the orders in time to hand carry most of them up to Toronto. She was going to have to buy a bottle of wine for Van and Dana to help repay for all their trouble and also for the headache they were about to encounter when they started to print them. Exiting out of the tshirt file, she went to her readlist. Several new messages... the war was in full swing and she was supposed to be doing her fractals. "Damn the fractals, full speed ahead!" Laurie grabbed the phone and made a reservation for a flight to Toronto. One of the messages she had received was from Janette. * * * The Raven was quiet. Janette stood by the bar when she entered. Her last visit was not very pleasant and had taught her A LOT about *cough* "Uncle". "Well, look what the.. Oh, nevermind. Does COUSIN Sandye still have your key?" "Yes, but I had the locks changed just before I left." "Good." "All the Cousins seem to be gathering across the hall." "Very Good. And?" "And I think it is about time something was done about that." Janette only smiled before she said, "And do the others believe you?" "Do you believe me?" "One thing I have learned is to never trust LaCroix." "So have I." "Then you are prepared?" "Yes," Laurie glanced around the room before she continued,"John wants to defect. He too is tired of LaCroix's manipulation and unappreciative manner when it comes to strong minds." "Your minds could not have been *that* strong since you followed him in the first place." "Some lessons are hard to learn." "And others even harder. Who is John leaning towards?" "I'm not sure. But he will be a great addition to any affiliation." "Now, down to business...." Janette laid out her plans for Laurie. When she finally returned home, Laurie began to email the others... ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- ---------[Thursday, July 7th]-------------------- ------------------------------------------------- Date: Sat, 9 Jul 1994 14:03:05 -0500 From: TMP_HARKINS@DIRAC.PHYSICS.JMU.EDU Subject: FKWARSII--Judgment Call July 7, 1994, 4:00 AM I woke in a cold sweat, sitting up quickly. So quickly, in fact, that the nightmare I'd been having mostly disappeared. But I was left with the vague impression that characters on the "Forever Knight" show were in danger. I quietly got out of bed and went to the refrigerator for a drink of Kool Aid. That "War" stuff must have really been preying on my mind. Of course I'd dreamed about the characters of the show before--usually in context to whatever story about them that I happened to be working on. 'I wonder if Susan Garrett dreams stories, too--I'll have to remember to ask her,' I thought. I walked out into the living room and switched on a lamp. I looked at the silent computer, then sat down in the chair in front of it and turned it on. Maybe one of the people I'd sent my message to asking if the "FK Wars" was real (one of the Sharons, Pam, or Dawn) had sent me a reply to my query. Nope. Nothing from any of them. There weren't a lot of new messages and most of them were Gamemasters list mail for Bruce and some FORKNI-L mail. Come to think of it, I'd had no personal replies to my last messages to Lisa McDavid and Susan Garrett. But maybe they were just busy. I heard Bruce pad out to the refrigerator for a drink. Then he came into the living room. "What are you doing?" "Checking the computer for messages." "Any for me?" "Just some Gamemasters stuff." "That's all?" "Were you expecting something else?" Bruce sat on the nearby couch and ran a hand through his hair. "Well, yeah. While you were cooking dinner last night, I sent a message to Dawn Steele about the 'Wars.'" "You did! I thought you thought it was a joke!" "Well, it occurred to me it might be--well, I _did_ declare myself a Die-Hard, after all. I just thought I'd write to her and remind her." "Do you think it's some sort of role-playing game?" "Maybe. I don't know. Maybe we'll find out tomorrow." He stood up. "You coming back to bed? We've got a good deal to do tomorrow." "In a minute," I said. After he left the room, I switched off the computer and the lamp. Then I made my way back to bed, the uneasiness from my near-forgotten nightmare making me lie awake for a long while in the darkness. Then it hit me! Of course! A listmember had not long ago responded to a query of mine on the list about how someone would locate an officer in the Toronto Metro Police if all the person knew was that the person in question was a policeman named Knight (it was info I'd needed for my second DuPrey story). The guy had sent me the actual police information number that was used for such purposes. I jumped out of bed, fortunately quickly enough so I didn't disturb Bruce much and ran back to the computer. Before long, I had called up the information I wanted. I copied the number down and switched off the computer again. Dawn was filtering through the blinds at the picture window as I picked up the phone. Would anyone be at this number at this hour? Maybe there was an automatic answering machine if no one was there. I dialed the number and waited, wondering if I _had_ finally flipped out. When there was an answer on the other end, I hesitated. Then more inspiration hit me! I asked for the number of the 27th precinct. The female voice gave me the information and I hung up. I looked at the number in my hand. Should I call it? Why not? All I'd be told is no if there was no such person (or persons). "Toronto Metro Police, 27th Precinct," came the female voice. "I'd--like to speak to (the light outside the window was decidedly rosy) Detective Don Schanke." "Hold, please." I waited, then a familiar sounding male voice came on the line with, "Schanke. What can I do you for?" The voice sounded tired. "Detective Don Schanke?" I hoped my voice didn't sound as weak as I felt. "Yeah. Who's this?" "I'm--trying to locate Detective Nick Knight." "Knight's off duty. But I'm his partner. If this is about one of our cases--" I hung up the phone, my heart pounding. Surely it _couldn't_ be a coincidence that _both_ a Detective Schanke and a Detective Knight were stationed at the 27th Precinct _and_ that they were partners to boot! I raced back to the bedroom to wake up Bruce. To Be Continued ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Sun, 10 Jul 1994 03:52:40 -0500 From: TMP_HARKINS@DIRAC.PHYSICS.JMU.EDU Subject: FKWARSII--Schanke Wonders July 7, 1994, early morning. Schanke looked at the dead phone receiver in his hand, then placed it back in its cradle. He frowned in some irritation. "What the hell was that all about?" he muttered. Could it have been a "female acquaintance" of Nick's? "Nah," he said. She'd sounded timid, nervous, almost frightened. He pulled on his jacket. Come to think of it, there'd been a couple other weird calls for Nick lately. At least judging by his partner's expression when he'd received them. Nick had sure seemed distracted at the Fourth of July carnival he'd made him attend. At least his presence there had put a damper on any "personal conversation" Myra might have wanted to pursue (as Schanke had hoped). He smiled as he remembered the "making up" he and Myra had engaged in after they got home. But Nick had been edgy ever since. And he wouldn't talk about what was bothering him. Nat had seemed edgy the last couple of days, too. Despite Nick's assurances that he and Nat were "just friends," he'd wondered if maybe they were more than that and had had some sort of disagreement. Schanke looked at the phone again. But then there was that odd phone call. He frowned, wondering if perhaps there was something going on besides a "lovers' spat." But he didn't feel like thinking any more about it right now. Right now he was _dead_ and all he wanted was home and some sleep. He walked out to his car and, yawning, drove off into the warm sunshine. "Besides, if he needs any help, he knows all he's gotta do is ask." Didn't he? ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Wed, 6 Jul 1994 09:56:32 EDT From: Lisa McDavid Subject: FKwars2: Family Feud escalates Lisa sat at her computer with steam coming out of her ears. According to Brian Gerstel: "*Now* Nick understood. Larry Merlin was less than a century old -- practically a baby in the eyes of vampires like LaCroix. He hated their condescension, and took any opportunity he could to play elaborate jokes on them. Nothing to make them forget how useful he was, mind you -- just enough to keep them wondering." So *Little Brother* Larry had told Brian he was "less than a century old," had he? Like about 97 or 98? Fine. And just what did that make his older sister? If only she had a scanner at home, Lisa thought. Larry's birth certificate would probably interest the other cousins, especially what "Larry" was really short for. The clock on the wall clicked as the minute hand moved. Lisa stared at it. 5:30 in the morning. Less than an hour until sunrise, and no word from Larry. She reached for the Old Farmer's Almanac. Yes, she was right about sunrise in Toronto. Humming "Fan Kill," personalized to the situation, Lisa moved the mouse over and clicked on the deerstalker and pipe icon. Really, Larry's sense of humor had been in arrested development long before he'd been brought across. A few commands with the control key held down activated Larry's Sherlock programs. Within two minutes, the names of all men with the initials LM who had flown out of Toronto on any flight last night, including planes currently on the runway at either airport, flashed across the screen. Another few keystrokes, and the program reported that all of them checked out in various databases as owners of driver's licenses. Lisa nodded to herself. gif. No, none of the photographs was Larry. True, some of them appeared to have been fed into assorted highway department files from Nat's autopsy reports, but none was Larry. Okay, Larry's absentmindedness limited him to aliases with his own initials. His unfortunate and invariable air sickness even when flying on his own confined him to using airplanes, usually after getting pie-eyed in a vain attempt to control his fear of heights. He'd exchanged mail with Brian last night. Little Brother was still in Toronto. Lisa smiled. This expression had been known to make strong men climb trees in an effort to get away from her. LaCroix had banged his head rather badly on the ceiling the last time she'd looked at him that way. "Poor Uncle! I warned you to call off Alexandra." The incoming mail signal beeped. From force of habit Lisa switched over. Well, well. So LaCroix had gone touristing off to State College, Pennsylvania. The smile widened. Lestrade.Tor. The Toronto court system menu appeared on Lisa's monitor. She pressed the number for warrant, filled in the template and dispatched the results to the Royal Canadian Mounted Police (courtesy information copy), both the relevant police and sheriff's departments in State College in case the apartment in question fell outside the city limits, and the FBI. Alexander.DC.NVA.MD. Lisa couldn't be sure whether the number she wanted was in Washington proper or one of the suburbs. It wouldn't be listed or published, of course, but that was no problem with access to the phone company's own computers. She added a colon: Muldur, *F*. In a surprisingly short time, the number she wanted appeared. Lisa punched in seven numbers after the 1 and the 301 area code. "Mumph! Hello?" Agent Muldur did answer his phone in person. Lisa had thought he would. The Bureau wouldn't like having to leave messages on a machine if the little green men were coming through the walls. "Oh, thank God! This is Lisa McDavid, Larry Merlin's sister. He just called me in hysterics from State College, Pennsylvania. Something about that man with the post-punk hair cut you were asking me about? He's got Larry and at least three others held hostage. Of course I know the address! He just wasn't sure which apartment he was in." Lisa gave both Laurie's and Sandye's as alternatives. "And, please, Mr. Muldur, tell them to hurry. I know this sounds ridiculous, but Larry was babbling about vampires. I'm sure it's just a coincidence but he did say something about someone named Dana being tied up and a second draining just after sunrise .... Oh, bless you! Yes, I do have the police and sheriff's numbers." ----------------------------------------------------------------- --- lestrade + alexander, Lisa typed, finishing with the number of the line Larry's tracing program had reported as responsible for storing incoming police radio communications in the computer. So far, SWAT Teams -- involved in heated territorial disputes with psychologist/negotiators -- were on the doorsteps of both apartments and under all windows. The police were threatening to shoot down the helicopter from the Pittsburgh CBS affiliate if it didn't clear the area before something called an airwolf arrived. Three large, black cars filled with bulky men in dark suits had just pulled up and were moving in formation past everyone else. The door to an apartment number Lisa recognized as Sandye's was said to have opened. A tall woman with dark hair, cursing in what appeared to be a combination of French and an unidentified language was shoved through it, followed by a figure in a monk's habit. *Monk's habit?* Lisa snorted. Really, Uncle was wasted on his latest hobby, radio. He ought to be writing Gothic romances. Lisa picked up the phone again and dialed the Toronto area code. In an apartment above the Raven, a telephone rang. "Good morning, Janette! This is your wakeup call. LaCroix's using one of your Ravenettes as a shield to get past enough artillery to refight Gettysburg and he's going to blame you. Oh, stop babbling. I don't need to have studied medieval French to know that's very vulgar. Besides, it's physically impossible. Anyway, his little tracing toys are going to show phone calls to every law enforcement agency in a fifty mile radius of State College as having come from your personal phone. Why? Because when I fingered Alexandra, she showed up on your line, reading alt.romance. That means she's in the Raven and you know it. It also means my gonads-for-brains little brother's in there with her. No, of course you didn't know about it. And the moon's made of green cheese!" Cousin Lisa (Probably on the wrong side of the blanket) Lisa McDavid d020214@univscvm (bitnet) d020214@univscvm.csd.scarolina.edu (internet) ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Thu, 7 Jul 1994 13:59:25 -0230 From: "M. J. Farrell" Subject: FK Wars: A Nasty FTP surprise! "Wav files!?! Did someone say Wav files!?!?" Mary quickly copied down the address. It was, however, three o'clock in the morning, Ravenettes don't *do* 9 to 5 darling, and she filed it away for future reference. The next day, she came across the address again. She quickly FTP'd to the site and downloaded a file called "fkwaves.exe". She ran it, it unzipped and deposited several interesting looking .wav files into her Windows directory. She went to the Sound feature and clicked on test..hm..the speaker was messed up again..just a sec..ok..she leaned close to the tinny pc internal speaker and heard....Barney!?! "What!?! No Phone message? No 'Nat's Bed and Breakfast'? No 'Try'. Those rotten, ROTTEN Cousins! THAT'S what I get for listening to them!" NOT having a Barneyphobia, she merely sniffed in disgust and deleted the offending files. "They wanna play, do they!?! Well...lessee..what can I..." She trailed off, as a rather Janette-like smile crossed her face. She scooped up the telephone and dialed the Raven. "Janette? It's Mary. You remember me telling you about that bizarre news story I yesterday?" Janette thought for a moment. "The one about the...ick..Festival?" "Yes! I was thinking, wouldn't it be perfect to..." Janette listened for a while, but then cut Mary off. "It *is* a rather diabolical plan, darling. Truly worthy of a Ravenette, but quite impossible I'm afraid. Laurie's come over." "She's WHAT?!" "Yes..she switched sides to the Ravenettes. So revenge on *her* is out. However, there *are quite a few cousins still around. Let's see, who was that one with the tapes...." ----------------------------------------- By the end of the day, Cousin Lisa (wrong side of the blanket) had received a letter hand delivered to her door. She opened it and was informed that she'd won the grand prize on FELINE-L, an all-expense paid trip to the International Feline Festival, being held in Los Angeles, CA, this weekend! Several hours later, at the Raven: "Maybe we shouldn't have *done* that, Janette." Mary, looking doubtful, was perched at the end of the bar. "Mary! A Ravenette never passes up the chance for a good revenge. Do you not remember her concentrated efforts to lure you away to the Cousins!? She deserves this!" "But..but..Janette. I mean, when she gets there..and finds out it's actually the International Garlic Festival...." ------------------------------ Mary, Ravenette to the Undeath mfarrell@admin.cabot.nf.ca ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Thu, 7 Jul 1994 12:20:52 EDT From: Lisa McDavid Subject: FKWars2: Family feud turns frightening The u.p.s. screamed as the Lisa's computer lost power just as LaCroix exited with Monica in tow or, strictly speaking, in push. Lisa muttered that Murphy must have been a vampire. It had to be the p.c.'s individual power line, because the lights and the air conditioning were still running. "Pu-rr-r-p?" Tizzie was trolling back and forth beside the desk, purring. Lisa started to push the little calico-tabby aside, then stopped in sheer astonishment. Tizzie had managed to shoulder the plug out of the wall. "Ok, Tizzums, you've outdone yourself! It was funny when you jumped up and kicked the power button to off. It was cute when you stood on my lap and pushed the suspend button with your front paws. But this is *not* funny. Uncle Larry's in trouble." Lisa picked up the plug, but was prevented from reinserting it by the ringing of the phone. One long, one short, one long: LaCroix's signal. Lisa brought the phone to her ear. "Don't come crying to me, Uncle Dear. I warned you about not calling Alexandra off Larry." "Huh?" replied a voice which was definitely not LaCroix's. "Sandye? What're you doing using Uncle's phone?" "He said to. The fuzz probably have my line tapped by now." Suddenly Sandye sounded like Janette. "He's very disappointed." "Oh, yeah? Well, so am I. Tell him he can forget the new muzzle for Christmas -- Yow!!" "Lisa? Have the Knighties come after you?" "No, just Java pulling his usual trick of parachuting into my lap and starting to knead. That cat has claws like something in an acupuncture set. We are Siamese if you *don't* please." Knowing Lisa's utter incorrigibility as a cat person, Sandye said firmly, "Look, did you ever get cable?" "Not with FK going to syndication. Why?" "Because one of the reasons Uncle just hustled Monica outside is that we've hit the big time. CNN -- live." Sandye added a muffled, off-receiver, "I don't *know* how he knew you had an old Halloween costume. Really, Dennis, I'm a cousin, not a clairvoyant." "Figures," Lisa responded. "He's a news junkie. Claims it's a good way to keep up with the latest free food. I just hope Monica's been eating lots of garlic. If LaCroix leaves anything, Janette will be happy to take leftovers." "Oh, that. It's just a little distraction so Dennis can slip out and send faxes." "I suppose there's a perfectly good reason why he couldn't just walk out the front door? No, don't tell me. LaCroix doesn't want Nick thinking he'd ever release a hostage." "Lisa, wake up! Uncle doesn't *care* what Nee-co-lah thinks. You'd better hope he isn't monitoring this call. If Dennis just waltzes out, that mob out there will grab him for debriefing, trauma testing and Dracula only knows what else." "True. LaCroix doesn't always think like a corkscrew. Okay, so Dennis is sending faxes. To whom and about what?" Lisa pressed the power button on the pc as she spoke, accessed the relevant program (this time Larry had called it "Wright-on" and used an icon of Snoopy as the Red Baron.) "I see. Well, in that case, I presume Monica will be home sooner or later. Good, because I have to go out of town. Oh, and tell dear, *dear* Uncle that I might relent about the muzzle if he sends Alexandra off to Timbuctoo before 4:55 pm." Sandye's frown carried over the phone. "What happens then?" "I land in Toronto." Cousin Lisa (Probably on the wrong side of the blanket) Lisa McDavid d020214@univscvm (bitnet) d020214@univscvm.csd.scarolina.edu (internet) ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Thu, 7 Jul 1994 12:29:10 EDT From: SelmaMc@AOL.COM Subject: FK Wars 2:Disks Away! Selma arrived home from her flight to New Mexico. She was glad she'd left the rabbit in the care of her cousins, Phillis and Wayne. And the disks were safely on their way to Toronto. She remembered the note she'd put in the box that said, "Medical Supplies! Urgent!": Dear Natalie Lambert, You don't know me, but I'm a Knightie allied with Sharon H. and Valerie. I "recovered" these disks from Cousin John and someone needs to look at them. Could you pass them on to Larry? I have a suspicion that they may have been tampered with (I didn't get a B.A. in Computer Science for nothing). Also, do you know anyone in any faction who is missing a rabbit? I recovered the rabbit too, but I don't know who the owner is. Sincerely, Selma McCrory ----------------- She sat down at the computer and composed a note to Valerie and Sharon. To: vmeachum@freenet.scri.fsu.edu, Romana From: SelmaMc@aol.com Subj: I'm Back! Sorry about the cryptic note, but I didn't want the cousins to find out my plan. I just took a trip out to New Mexico and took care of something there relating to Cousin John. Since my mom is sufficiently peeved, I think I will skip trips in future. Can I help you guys in the support department? Does anyone know what happened to Brian? Also, do you know anyone who belongs to a rabbit that was in Cousin John's place? Don't think it was his. Selma ------------ She sent her mail and then went back to her job hunt. ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Thu, 7 Jul 1994 14:18:50 EDT From: SelmaMc@AOL.COM Subject: FK Wars 2: Clearing things up Selma sighed in contentment as she got of the phone with her relatives. She'd gotten a note from Valerie telling her who the rabbit belonged to, and had then phoned her relatives to let them know where to ship to. The Raven was a sensible place anyway, since the owner seemed to travel a lot and was a Ravenette. Imagine, she had saved the pet of a Ravenette! For caution's sake, she had told her relatives to send it anonymously. No sense in getting them tangled up in the war. Now, she had to do something about Brian. She'd learned through various contacts that he was in prison for spreading the computer virus. Well, as soon as the box got to Natalie and to Larry, they could find a way to clear him. At least she had told Sharon and Valerie what was going on. There was nothing else she could do, since she promised her mom that she wouldn't leave Sacramento. ----------- * + * . * Selma McCrory selmamc@aol.com . . * * . ----------------------------------------------------------------- ------------ Date: Thu, 7 Jul 1994 14:05:22 EDT From: Lisa MCDavid Subject: FkWars2: Family Feud Spreads to Friends Lisa pressed the send key for the last time and the final message from Mary Farrell's address sped off across the Internet. Lisa wondered if maybe using Larry's tracers to include Mary's boss's email address with Mary's work and home phones and home address on the post to alt.sex. bestiality_gerbils_and_duct_tape had been a little over the top? Oh, well, Uncle always said that a job worth doing was worth doing properly. Besides, it wasn't like she'd given the *boss's* name, just included the address as an alternate for Mary, who could never be sure which one would work at any given time, making double-posting a good idea. The passionate defense of Forever Knight and Nick as the only vampire and vampire universe worthy of an intelligent person's attention on alt.vampyres should make lots of new friends for Mary. The first response to the note on Vampyres@guvm poured before Lisa could logoff. The combative werewolf persona was up early in Chicago, and he had not appreciated having the list informed that he had fleas, mange, and had been offlist recently because he had been picked up by the dog catcher. Lisa imagined the requests were already appearing at the ftp site she had established at Mary's university. The cat-hating werewolf was not going to admire the artistry with which his figure had been substituted for Mary's in the picture of playtime with two orange-tiger kittens. Now, what else? Oh, yes, detour by the Fed Express office on the way to the airport, so that Pam Rush could forward the all expenses paid trip to the International Garlic Festival in Los Angeles to Schanke. Cousin Lisa (Probably on the wrong side of the blanket) Lisa McDavid d020214@univscvm (bitnet) d020214@univscvm.csd.scarolina.edu (internet) ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Thu, 7 Jul 1994 10:54:47 EDT From: LizBeth258@AOL.COM Subject: FKWARII: Rumblings Before she left the fleabag motel for Toronto, Beth signed on one more time onto her AOL account. To her surprise, she found she had a message from Cousin (?!) Monica. She read it. She read it again. And just to make sure she had it right, she read it a third time. She tapped her finger under the phrase: "Janette has targeted those of you who chose to ally yourselves with the Warren in the last conflict for having divided loyalties." *Color me surprised. You're not telling me anything that I don't already know,* Beth thought as she lit Marlboro. But how much could she trust Monica? A Ravenette she may be, O.K., ex-Ravenette, but she STILL defected to LaCroix's side, no less. It would be TOO dangerous to play both sides against the middle, and judging by the posts, that is EXACTLY how this war started. It was also beginning to look like Janette was the instigator this time. Damn. Damndamndamndamndamn. Even Alma had more brains than to do something that would start another war. She carefully sent a message back: --------------------------------------------------------- To: Cousin@LaCroix.cac.psu.edu (Cousin Monica) From: lizbeth258@aol.com SUBJECT: Don't kill the messenger!...please! Unfortunately, you're not telling me anything I haven't figured out on my own, though your defection is going to make things worse. It was bad enough that Uncle was behind the Warren in the last war. Your defection is only going to PROVE to Janette that we're all under his control and not the free-agents we were last time. It's messages like this that almost make me wish I was a Knightie again. Note that I said ALMOST. Though I might be tempted to follow you into the abyss, I'm not so sure I want to throw myself on the mercy of the Cousins. There is still a matter of rabbit-napping that has to be settled. Suffice to say, that I am heading for the Raven even as we speak. I'll keep my eyes open and be careful. And Monica, thank you. I'll be in touch, Liz-Hazel ;) ---------------------------------------------------------- ....Several hours later, she made it to the Raven, her car wheezing all the way. The Raven was not open for business yet. She looked around and saw that she was the first to arrive. Then she spotted the cage on top of the bar. It looked like.... Alma came out holding a VERY contented furry ball and feeding it a carrot. "You are so cute! Yes you are! And so sweet! I could just eat you up." Was the vampire actually COOOOOING? "HAZEL!" "Oh, hi! Liz-Hazel, isn't it? This just came by anonymous courier. Someone on the Net heard that she belonged to a Raven and sent her here, figuring that whoever her owner was would show up." Alma scritched the rabbit's nose. Hazel was more interested in getting to the carrot placed on the bartop. "I take it this is the Hazel in your pairing." Beth snatched the rabbit out of Alma's hands "Yes, yes. Thank you, thank you." She hugged Hazel, whose eyes were practically bugging out of her head. She REALLY wanted that carrot. "Well, I suppose whoever's responsible is going to be calling in the marker," Alma said as she watched the reunion with a touch of amusement. "Alma! Not so loud. SHE might hear." "Ahhh. She's down in the wine cellar. She ain't gonna hear nothin'." "The proper words, dear Alma, is: She ISN'T going to hear anything." Alma practically jumped a foot when she heard Janette. She turned around and saw she was standing directly behind her. Hazel stopped struggling and GLARED in the elder vampire's general direction. Beth just clutched the rabbit, Monica's words dancing in her head. "Alma, I believe you have work to do. There's a good girl," she purred as Alma hastily made herself scarce. Janette then looked at the reunited couple and gave them a withering glare. "I take it this flea trap is yours?" "Yes. Hazel, this is Janette." "We've met," Janette glared at the rabbit. "It attempted to nibble a choker on my desk when Alma brought her in for a.... visit. I want it out of my bar." "I don't have a hotel room yet." "Very well. Keep it in Alma's office. And keep it out of my way," Janette grumbled. "When you put it away, I want you to come see me in my office. I have a VERY special task for you." "Yes, ma'am." Liz-Hazel lizbeth258@aol.com ----------------------------------------------------------------- ---------- Date: Thu, 7 Jul 1994 20:51:00 -0400 From: Christine Reynolds Subject: FKWars2(???): Mom Goes Ballistic "ROBERT!" Christine's voice shattered two windows and sent the cat diving under the bed. "COME HERE! RIGHT ---NOW---!" Robert rolled his eyes. He knew that tone of screech. "Yeah, Cousin Mom?" "WHAT IN THE--" "Shhhh. No need to break any more windows. I'm right here." "*What* is all *this*?" "All what?" "My email!" she sputtered. "There are fifty-some new messages from the FK Fiction list!" "Gotten a little behind on your email, huh?" "Those have come in since 5:00 *yesterday*! *What* is going on with this group?" "The war's started," he explained patiently. "Remember? I told you all about this the other day? It all started when Nick's computer was stolen." "And now they're rabbit-napping and sending," she shuddered, "Barney burgers and putting deer heads on cars and God knows what else. What a nasty bunch of folks." "Uh huh." Robert's eyes gleamed. "Uh, Cousin Mom, if you're just going to be gnashing your teeth for a while, can I use the computer for a few minutes?" "Why?" "I need to get into my email account and send a...uh...a *thank you note*." "Of course, dear." She surrendered the chair and keyboard and went to sweep up the shattered glass. With a wicked grin, Robert logged into his email, typed in the address, and wrote: "Uncle, I'm at your command!" He pressed just before Christine returned to reclaim the computer. "Feel better now?" he asked sweetly. "I suppose so. I'll print these things out for you." "Thanks, Mom." Christine waited until he had left the room, then keyed in a nickname and began her own message: "LaCroix, I've been noticing the way you've trained these Cousins to behave. "Good job! Can I send Robert along for some of your special training? "Love and hisses, Your alleged sister, Cousin Mom" ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Sat, 9 Jul 1994 23:26:05 -0500 From: TMP_HARKINS@DIRAC.PHYSICS.JMU.EDU Subject: FKWARSII--Judgment Call (Part 2) July 7, 1994, 10:00 AM I looked over at Bruce as we packed our suitcases, excitement and dread warring with each other inside me. If these TV show characters _were_ real, then that meant there was a _real_ Schanke, Natalie, Nick _and_ a real Janette and _LaCroix_. But as finding the show was "fate" to begin with (just as my meeting Bruce had been), then perhaps this journey we were planning was somehow "fated" too. Bruce paused in his packing and said, "Are you sure you want to go through with this?" "I have to. I know you're not as into the series as I am, but--" "I hope you're not going to do anything rash." "I doubt I'll have the nerve." I smiled. "But if Nick is as cute in person--" "You'd never have the nerve." "You're probably right. But we _are_ going." "I hope it's not a waste of my vacation pay." "Well, it's not like we weren't planning to spend some time alone together for part of your vacation. I know it's not where we originally intended to go, but you can't tell me you're not as curious to find out if there _are_ such things as real vampires as I am." Bruce got a serious look on his face. "Yeah. I know Nick, if the show's to be believed, is trying to change. But Janette--and especially that _LaCroix_-- We may be putting ourselves in real danger, you know." "Makes me glad we're leaving Amanda with my mother." Bruce sat on the bed. "But we should consider some defenses." "Well, Nick's affected by garlic. That's probably standard." "And crosses, too." "That may or may not apply to all of them. But it won't hurt for us to take them." "What about reflections?" "Nick has one, but I don't know about the others. What we need is something _physically_ damaging for defense." "Wooden stakes?" "No. That would only help if the vampire was asleep. Besides, they _can_ move about in the day." I thought. "What about some sort of acid? Is there anything we could like put in a perfume sprayer or something like that?" "Well, yeah. But the really strong acids would eat through the plastic spray tube." He hesitated. "But I think I've got an idea." I packed a can of aerosol hair spray in my purse, commenting, "We can always use this as a flamethrower. All we need's a Bic." Bruce picked up the Bic lighters off the dresser and passed one on to me. I put it in my purse. I shut my suitcase. Bruce was finished packing, too, and started to shut his. Then he reached for his Bible. He put it in the suitcase and shut the lid. "What's that for?" I asked. Bruce didn't reply. "Well, I guess it won't hurt." "You packed Amanda's suitcase, right?" "Right." A thought occurred to me. I walked out into the living room and got the phone/address book. It was the only place in the apartment where my mother's address was listed. I _wouldn't_ risk my daughter to any insane Cousins or "Uncle" vampires. Bruce watched as I put the address book in Amanda's suitcase. "Hey, I'm not leaving Mom's address for any of those Cousins to get hold of," I said. "Good idea." "Why don't you go out and get her to come in? We'll get ready to go and have an early lunch." Bruce walked outside to track down our wayward eight-year old. While he was gone, I got on the computer and sent a message: To: scotts@baylor.edu, shihc@cunyvm.cuny.edu, pkrush01@ukcc.uky.edu, steele@fern.physics.mcmaster.ca From: tmp_harkins@dirac.physics.jmu.edu I know now the Wars are real. Bruce and I are on our way to Toronto. We'll make further contact when we get there. --Sandra Gray --tmp_harkins@dirac.physics.jmu.edu Bruce returned with Amanda and we all got ready to go. The computer beeped that a message was waiting when we were about ready to make our last minute checks before leaving. Bruce sat down and called up the message. It read: To: tmp_harkins@dirac.physics.jmu.edu From: king@astro.utoronto.ca Dear Bruce, Got your message. Yes, the Wars are real and we need all the Die- Hard help we can get (if you're interested) to help mediate an end to these "Wars." The Die-Hard Headquarters is the St. George Residence, located right next to the Toronto university. It has a white and red Templar (?) cross at the entrance. Hope to see you there. Kathy king@astro.utoronto.ca "Who's Kathy?" I asked. "One of the Die-Hards. I guess Dawn is pretty busy." He hit the reply button and I watched as he typed a short message back to Kathy that we would be there as soon as we could get there. Then he hit send. After sitting silently a minute, he started to do something else. "What are you doing?" "Adding a couple of levels of password protection--for security purposes." He finished and turned off the computer. By noon we were on our way to Hagerstown, MD to drop off Amanda at my mother's house. Then it was on to Baltimore, to try to get a late afternoon flight to Toronto. As we boarded the plane, I tried to still the butterflies in my stomach. Heights always had bothered me; if it hadn't been for the perceived necessity I saw of us getting to Toronto as soon as possible, I would have suggested we drive. 'Oh, well. I just won't look out the window. And maybe a drink or two wouldn't hurt either.' ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Thu, 7 Jul 1994 09:32:48 EDT From: Pamela Rush Subject: Re: Sharon's diary FAX MEMO TO: Sharon S. Scott FROM: Pamela K. Rush DATE: July 7, 1994 SUBJ: Diary Sharon-- Hate to tell you I found your diary on an ftp site; I browsed it just to be certain you would not be too embarrassed. You wrote The FoDs probably won't do anything unless their souvlaki supply is threatened. Thought I'd let you know that we are making every effort to maintain a goodly supply of all ethnic viands AND to keep a supply line open to Toronto to support the efforts of the front lines. If he isn't *stopped* now, the delusional madman LaCroix will have everyone in North America on a *liquid* diet! FoDly, Pam Rush ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Thu, 7 Jul 1994 16:19:54 EDT From: SusanG2522@AOL.COM Subject: FKWARII--They're EVERYWHERE! They're EVERYWHERE! ----------------------------------------------------------------- ------------- - Work had been hell. Susan was dead tired--which was odd because she'd supposedly fallen asleep and dreamed last night--and spent most her of day keying purchase orders and fending off phone calls from the police department (they were screwing around with the colors on Windows again and you could only tell them so many times that white type on a white background was NOT a good thing). Just before lunch, she managed to download most of the day's war mail. Well, she could always read it when she returned from lunch. Which she did. And she was more than a little astounded to find that all references to the kidnapped Hazel had been replaced by references to a kidnapped bird named Buster. Buster was the name of Maggie's bird. Maggie was Susan's boss. Susan glanced over her shoulder, but Maggie was bent over the AS/400, working on the tax billing. She knew Maggie seldom watched anything other than her soap and Dennis Miller, so she'd never seen . Maggie wasn't a member of the list. Stymied, Susan turned back to her PC and continued to read the war messages. Her face grew very warm and she gulped, as some very descriptive adult material seemed to have been included. Had someone really posted such a thing on the list? Was it possible? Or had the Cousins found a way to tamper with her mail? Not that it was bad stuff, mind you. She'd seen bad--quite recently, in fact--and this wasn't it. But it somewhat disconcerting to find soft porn incorporated into the theft of a rabbit/bird. Susan looked over her should again, this time catching Maggie looking up at her. before Maggie could dive back down behind the AS/400, Susan stalked over. "Okay, what happened to my mail?" "What mail?" Maggie smiled broadly. At least until Susan glared (the pout doesn't work on Maggie). At which time Maggie admitted that while she was working on something on Susan's computer, she found the mail, got interested in it and decided to help. She also admitted that Rose helped too, although Rose said she'd only added one line (and such a line it !). So Susan spent twenty minutes doing search and replace on her War mail and deleting some rather . . . uh . . . purple passages (which were cut and pasted into an empty file--we NEVER waste anything at MIS), before she could get back to work. ----------------------------------------------------------------- ------------- - SusanG2522@aol.com (This really happened. And, yes, Maggie is naturally a Cousin by proxy--she's just that kind of gal.) ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Thu, 7 Jul 1994 19:16:55 -0400 From: Ivy Reisner Subject: FK Wars 2: Utilizing Utilities *Computers do make things convenient don't they?* Ivy logged through her account onto the credit bureau computer and from there to the electric and phone companies. *This won't be nearly as expensive but much more inconvenient.* She unposed the last ten payments on each and cut off both services. Let LaCroix contact his people with no phone line in the middle of the day. Let's see how long his blood lasts with no refrigeration. Let's see how long he lasts with no air conditioning. Well, it's canada after all. She looked over her cubicle wall at her bosses door. It was still closed. The meeting was still in progress and she had time to get out a few messages. Nick, I pledge to you this day my sword and life to command as you will. Not my will but thine doth command me. -- Ivy That will probably get me nowhere but I want him to know I'm with him. Sharon, Been striking hit and runs via computer (try LaCroix phone number today) tee hee. Trying something more this afternoon (his address is on his credit card statement after all). I would like to ally with the other knighties in whatever strategy may be afoot. contact me. -- Ivy That should do considerably better. Now for the last step. She checked her bag. The bottle of holy water had not yet broken. That was good. "Taking lunch" she told Tom in the next cube and headed out. Who would be about in the middle of the afternoon. And please let it be LaCroix who opens the front door tonight. She placed the beaker full of holy water on the door ledge than connected it to the door with a piece of tape that would pull it when to door opened, dumping it on whoever opened the door. Heart thumping in her chest she took off. No turning back now, she was in. ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Thu, 7 Jul 1994 11:29:23 -0500 From: Betsy Vera Subject: FK Wars2 Poor Betsy didn't know what to think. The war had started, and her mercenary little soul longed to join in the fun, but, so far, only the FODs, the Cousins, and the Ravenettes had tried to recruit her to their side. She still hadn't heard from the two groups she was most interested in: the Knighties and the Nat-Pack. She was feeling slighted by her heroes, especially by the Nat-Pack. *sniff* Finally, she made a decision. A mercenary's got to do what a mercenary's got to do. And this mercenary doesn't wear chokers and slinky dresses, and she's never had souvlaki. That only leaves the Cousins. On Monday morning, she would join the band of LaCroix, unless someone did something to change her mind. *S*I*G*H* Another soul lost. Betsy betsy.vera@mailgw.uprod.music.umich.edu ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Thu, 7 Jul 1994 20:18:21 -0400 From: Ivy Reisner Subject: FK Wars 2: Bank job Ivy came back from lunch to find her boss had already gone to lunch. She grinned madly. *There's one last bit of meanness I can visit on LaCroix.* She logged onto the commercial banking account, she didn't think her password expired yet, she'd only transferred to credit two weeks ago. It gave her the standard please log off if this is illegal message and she ignored it like anyone else would. LaCroix. Sure enough she was able to find his accounts, down to his checking account in good time. Let's bring all the balances down to 2 cents each. She grinned and keyed the transaction. Poor LaCroix, in big debt and only the money he carried to spend, plus whatever investments she couldn't get to. My this was shaping up to be a nice job. She sent a message before logging off: Sharon, Do you know who can get to the stocks, bonds, etc held by LaCroix? I'm trying to drive him to bankruptcy. Also if we can lets fake his tax records, see if we can't get him in trouble for "back taxes". It's a mortal world but it'll come crashing around his ears. This should handicap his war effort severely, I hope. -- Ivy ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Thu, 7 Jul 1994 20:34:53 EDT From: SelmaMc@AOL.COM Subject: FK Wars: The Unconfinement To: vmeachum@freenet.fsu.edu From: selmamc@aol.com Subj: People Do you know any non-cousins in the Bay Area who would be willing to pretend to throw a party so that I can get out of here? Sacramento is making me feel itchy. I want to _help_ and there's still Brian. I feel like a party anyway after liberating Hazel... Selma ------------- Selma smiled as she typed in the note. She couldn't convince her mom that going out and rescuing strange rabbits in New Mexico was worth it. And, after all, she did not go out while she was supposed to be working on finding a job. But her mother had stopped objecting to fan gatherings after Selma had gone to that first Starman one way back when. So she could still get in her activities without alerting her mother. Just as long as it didn't hurt her job hunt, and she did not intend for it to. But she wished she could get to Toronto to talk to Larry and help with the disks. Maybe there _was_ something that she could do in the meantime from home. ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Thu, 7 Jul 1994 16:11:49 18000 From: Valerie Meachum Subject: FKWars2: Net Lag "Damn, damn, damn, damn!" Valerie declaimed in her best Henry-Higginsesque manner, which wasn't very good because normally Henry Higgins wasn't exactly someone she wanted to -esque. It was also a challenge when one was a soprano. But dammit, the moment called for it! Her efforts to keep up with the new war were thwarted by the vagaries of the Tallahassee Free-Net, which for reasons of its own had decided to hold all of Wednesday's mail until it could dump 70 messages in her box on Thursday. Of course, she'd had a nice block of time on Wednesday to play with; now that she was no longer cut off from word of what was happening, she had ballet class until 9 pm tonight. Still, the off-season lull in the offices worked to her advantage--catching up simply made her look busy, something several of her co-workers were struggling with, and from 5:00 to 7:30 she would be all alone and able to go at it full-tilt. Meanwhile, though, Tanaquil and Sharon H must have been frantic--and poor Betsy Vera, whose plea for guidance on forkni-l had gone shamefully unanswered, was on the brink of going over to the Cousins. Sharon was doing her belated best to rescue that situation, but Valerie felt the failure keenly--for hadn't she, the original Orphan, made the same foolish mistake so many months before? Her "adoption" by the Cousins had been fun at first, but the doubts had begun cropping up even before the first war. Thus she had, abruptly and without invitation, cast her lot with the NatPack and never looked back. Fervently she hoped Betsy would have the strength to turn down the Cousins' attractive offer and go where she truly felt she belonged. This was where standing back and playing support was getting them: creamed by the more aggressive groups. Well, not this time. "All right," she snapped, consciously echoing the good Dr. Lambert, "that is *enough*!" ---- To: nlambert@toronto.gov.ca, shihc@cunyvm.cuny.edu, pinax5@garnet.berkeley.edu From: vmeachum@freenet.scri.fsu.edu Subj: Snapping Back I don't know what the rest of you think, but it looks to me like the support corps idea isn't cutting it. We need action, and we need it now! I suggest the following: -We need eyes and ears at the Raven, badly. I still have ties to the Wicked Warren, and I'm sure Janette knows it but I'm not sure where she stands on all that. I'd say Tanaquil is the best choice since she's new, but we don't need any parental executions on top of everything else so we'll have to keep her on correspondent status (BTW, Tanaquil, are you *absolutely* limited to Sacto? You're it on the left coast right now, and there are lots of folks out there. Maybe if we can get you allied transportation?) I can haul out the ol' Band that Wasn't wardrobe and fit in with the crowd with no difficulty; it's just the lady in charge I'm worried about. And I want to know what her stake (no pun intended) in all this is; she's been a bit too uncharacteristically active for my taste. -We need to establish good relations with the Die-Hards, and take extra care that nobody steps on their constitution or whatever that was. We need better PR in general--we don't want the loss of another Betsy on our heads. (BTW, Sharon, any indication there? Any hope? I feel *awful*!) -Has anyone else noticed the whole mail/database thing has dropped out of sight? There's no indication "Uncle" and his gang have actually done anything with it, apart from John's little overexcited virus-breeding (he really should learn to do things that affect machines without the capability to animate Barney if he's going to do stuff like that! ;-) ). That leaves a big hole where our knowledge of his true objective should be. -I've been in cautious communication with former Cousin Laurie, who represents herself as no less concerned about the rather opaque state of things than we are--it seems the Ravenettes are as in the dark about Janette's agenda as the rest of us. Still, it seems to me some cooperation on that front just might be mutually beneficial. (Don't make that face, Natalie, you make compromises sometimes too! :-) ) I'm willing to negotiate an agreement if you guys want to go ahead with it...which would give me an excuse to be at the Raven, actually, and get a taste of what's in the air there. Remind me to take my earplugs... -Nat: what's the word on the backup database? Have you guys been able to reconstruct anything useful? And a bigger concern that just hit me: did *you* have anything saved on that machine? We have a lot to lose if the Cousins' (professed) aim of converting everyone succeeds, and *he* knows it. -Along those lines, how's Nick holding up? I need to check in with Sharon S, but I don't think they've heard a peep from him in a while, and I'm afraid of him spiraling into one of those epic guilt trips of his... Everyone, please get back to me with what you think. I feel like I've gotten way behind, and I'm just beginning to figure out what scrambling needs to be done to catch up. The Betsy thing has really shaken me--we need to be ready to listen and help, or why do we bother? We need to get focussed again... Later! ------ Valerie heaved a sigh, reading over the last few doubtful lines. Hopefully the meager precautions she knew and the fact that it was a lone message among so many would keep the missive from being intercepted by hostile eyes...the last thing she needed was her uncertainty about her and the rest of the NatPack's effectiveness being too-common knowledge. "Here goes nothing, Lemon-Bunny," she told the little yellow stuffed animal who had perched on her computer since Easter, and hit "send." -- The Bad Penny * Valerie Lynn Meachum ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Thu, 7 Jul 1994 16:23:34 18000 From: Valerie Meachum Subject: FKWars2: Impatience Strikes "Not good enough, Lemon-Bunny," Valerie muttered as soon as the prior message was off and away. "We need a broader range of contact." ---- To: scotts@baylor.edu, selmamc@aol.com From: vmeachum@freenet.scri.fsu.edu Sharon and Selma: How are you guys doing? The communication lines have been kinda broken... I have a strong feeling there's going to be some escalation that affects us all pretty soon, and I'm all for moving out of the defensive posture before we have no one left to defend! I'm waiting for word back from Nat and the rest of the pack, but in the meantime I need to know from you: -Have you heard from Nick? If he goes spiraling into one of his epic guilt trips it's going to put a serious drain on all our resources. We need to know *now* and head it off--that's one of our groups raisons d'etre! Please make sure he's okay... -How are your own troops holding up? Any spot morale boosters required? We need to be more aggressive, but still take care of our own... -Do you have any intelligence in place at the Raven? Any whisperings of Janette's intentions? That's the biggest, most worrisome cipher right now, I think. Please get back to me soon because if nobody comes up with a plan I'm about ready to do something without one... Later! ------ Valerie looked from Lemon Bunny on her CPU to Mint Bunny on the corner of her desk and back again. "There's too much to lose, guys. Prudence is quickly becoming a commodity I can't afford." -- The Bad Penny * Valerie Lynn Meachum ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Thu, 7 Jul 1994 12:50:13 -0500 From: Cousin Dennis Subject: FK Wars2: Betsy's Transforamtion: The Expurgated Version Betsy's Transforamtion: The Expurgated Version One by one they decided to join the happy band of realists called the Cousins. The latest addition was Betsy. Though her yearnings would have been to follow Nick or Nat, their total lack of interest in anything but themselves had left poor Betsy stranded out in the cold, dark night. But Betsy was brave. She knew in her heart of hearts she really was a Cousin. Dennis smiled quietly, knowingly, happily. One more cherry crowning Uncle's sundae. This was going to be a good day. Dennis, as directed by LaCroix, sent off a note of welcome to the latest initiate. ------------------------ TO: Betsy.Vera@MAILGW.UPROD.MUSIC.UMICH.EDU FROM: Cousin Dennis SUBJECT: Welcome to the machine Dear Cousin Betsy, Uncle asked me to send his convivial regards. Your obviously intelligent choice to join the winning side will no doubt ensure your place in history. You will find a first class ticket to State College, PA will have been delivered to you by the time you get this message. Make haste. The game's afoot. Cousin Dennis ------------------------------ Now the plan was set. Uncle wanted everyone together for one more strategy session. Everyone had to know which part to play in this, the ultimate contest. Dennis pushed the send button and stretched back lazily in the chair. "Mock us if you will, foolish peasants. When the final curtain falls, it shall be the Cousins who stand victorious." Dennis knew there was hard work ahead, but didn't Uncle always reward hard work? The Fax mission had left Dennis with more than mere appreciation. Uncle begifted Dennis with trust...and wasn't that the greatest gift of all? ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Thu, 7 Jul 1994 13:38:50 EDT From: Sharon Himmanen Subject: FKWARSII: Oh No You Don't Nat wasn't usually so cryptic, but message had said get to Michigan as soon as possible. Sharon walked down the street, glancing at the address she'd scribbled on the little pink post-it. There it was. As she approached the door a woman carrying a suitcase stepped out. She seemed in a dreadful hurry. Well, so was Sharon. "Betsy?" The woman looked up quickly at the stranger standing before her. "Yes," she said, hesitantly. "Who are you?" "Sharon Himmanen. Listen, we haven't much time. Nat sent me, and it looks like I got here in the . . . nick of time!" She smiled while Betsy winced at the bad pun. "It's too late," Betsy said, holding up the plane ticket. "It's *never* too late," Sharon said, snatching the ticket from her hand and tearing it up into little pieces before Betsy could say a word. She put the pieces in her pocket (no litterbugs here). "You can't join *them*!" "But--I have to. They sent a ticket." "What ticket?" Sharon asked innocently. "Don't worry. Valerie, Tanaquil and I are making plans. I have a place where you'll be safe. Or join us and help put a stop to it all. It's up to you now." Sharon stepped back and waited for Betsy's answer. To be continued . . . | Sharon Himmanen | shihc@cunyvm.cuny.edu * romana@aol.com | | Nat Pack | s.himmanen@genie.geis.com ----------------------------------------------------------------- ---------- Date: Thu, 7 Jul 1994 00:21:55 -0500 From: "Sharon S. Scott" Subject: FK War II: It begins! July 7, 1994 Dear Diary, It works! I didn't really believe Tim could do it, but he did! The new virus is spreading like wildfire across the Net--only to fkfic-lers who just happen to be Cousins, of course. But he sent me a sample, so I could see what's happening! It's a riot! First your messages become garbled. Then there's an insistent little sound that gets louder and louder and LOUDER ... ribbit *ribbit* --ribbit-- ---ribbit--- RIBBIT And then the screen turns green. Even monochrome screens. (I *knew* Tim could work wonders!) Your file transfers begin to slow down. Your downloads have ... mutated. Every email message is full of funny-looking letters. And then you notice that every ascii character has changed into a weird shape, one that is constantly moving. And then you look at the screen more closely, and realize why--all the ascii that the characters have changed into tiny little frogs, hopping here and there, chomping on bugs, slurping down mosquitoes, crunching away on grasshoppers. It's worse than Pac Man. It's horrendous. It's revolting. It's grotesque. It's ... it's ... magnificent. It's ... CURMIT. The puppet virus. Specially written for the puppets of LaCroix. And the beauty of the thing is that it's been written so that no known virus protection program will *ever* be able to eradicate it completely. *EVER*. A wispy, fleeting image of CURMIT's little green face will appear on Cousins' screens for years to come. And every once in a while, when they least expect it, a ghostly shape will hop across their monitors. ------------------------------------------------------ Sharon S. scotts@baylor.edu ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Thu, 7 Jul 1994 16:29:10 -0500 From: "Sharon S. Scott" Subject: FK Wars II: The plea is answered To: vmeachum@freenet.scri.fsu.edu, selmamc@aol.com From: scotts@baylor.edu Re: Valerie's plea They haven't gotten me yet. I've learned a few things since the last war. Last I heard from Nick, he and Nat were still trying to reconstruct the database from his 2-week-old backup. And I weaseled out of him some information you need to know. The "sensitivity" of some of the data on the disk is giving him nightmares. I'm a relatively clueless newbie about computers, but even I know better than to keep sensitive data on a laptop's memory, with only one backup. You aren't going to believe this, but part of the data was a record of Nick's centuries-long attempt to ferret out LaCroix's origins. He's been stymied every step of the way--LaCroix's covered his tracks very well indeed. Nick hasn't been able to find out much more than LaCroix's first name, which is, of all things, Frank. Which must be a shortened form of a longer name, since "Frank" and "LaCroix" just don't compute semantically. Some of his hypotheses include: Francis, Franciscus, Franco, Francois, Frankincense, and Frankenstein (nah, couldn't be, could it? It could explain a lot--apparently LaCroix's created a few "monsters" in his time) Sorry, stuck way down here on the third coast, I haven't been able to insert anyone into the Raven for intelligence-gathering purposes. Nick contacted Spike, but quickly gave up any hopes on that front. What about Schanke? Has anyone heard from him? Could Alma be turned to our purposes? Please keep me informed of anything you find out. My resources, meager though they are, are at your disposal. Sharon S. ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Thu, 7 Jul 1994 16:32:49 -0500 From: "Sharon S. Scott" Subject: FK Wars II: Oh, yeah ... To: vmeachum@freenet.scri.fsu.edu, selmamc@aol.com From: scotts@baylor.edu Re: Oh, yeah ... I forgot Another tidbit: Nick's files also included Janette's dress, shoe, ring, & lingerie sizes. Nat was *not* amused. Sharon S. ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Thu, 7 Jul 1994 17:09:07 EDT From: Sharon Himmanen Subject: Re: FKWars2: Net Lag Finally! Sharon breathed a sigh of relief when she saw the message from Valerie in her box. She was still in Michigan negotiating with Betsy but they were taking a short breather so Sharon had logged in on her handy dandy Apple Powerbook 180c (hey, it's fiction! I can give myself a really spiffy powerbook if I want!) and responded to Valerie's message, including Nat's and Tanaquil's addresses in the reply. >-We need eyes and ears at the Raven, badly. I still have ties to the >Wicked Warren, and I'm sure Janette knows it but I'm not sure where >she stands on all that. I'd say Tanaquil is the best choice since I have only slight ties to the Warren--in fact, I'm sure they've forgotten that I'm even a member by now. However, I doubt very much that I could pull off surveillance at the Raven. I think we're going to have to go w/ Tanaquil on this one. Is there a chance you can play Ravenette, Tanaquil? You never formally declared one way or the other so you might get away w/ it. >-We need to establish good relations with the Die-Hards, and take >extra care that nobody steps on their constitution or whatever that >was. We need better PR in general--we don't want the loss of another >Betsy on our heads. (BTW, Sharon, any indication there? Any hope? I >feel *awful*!) I'm still trying to salvage the situation. Can't say more than that because I don't want to jinx it. Once I know what her leanings are, you guys will be the first to know. Here's something, though. I pulled out that plane ticket of Betsy's that I tore up and pieced it back together. It was a first class ticket to State College in Pennsylvania. It sounds to me like LaCroix is gathering his minions together. For what, I don't know. But . . . hmmmm . . . I've just had the gleam of a scathingly brilliant idea. Hmmm. . . >-Has anyone else noticed the whole mail/database thing has dropped out >of sight? There's no indication "Uncle" and his gang have actually >done anything with it, apart from John's little overexcited >virus-breeding (he really should learn to do things that affect >machines without the capability to animate Barney if he's going to do >stuff like that! ;-) ). That leaves a big hole where our knowledge >of his true objective should be. You and I are thinking along the same lines here. I was telling Tanaquil last night that I'm beginning to think the database and mail theft was a big red herring. There's something else afoot here, but damned if I can figure it out. The cousins have been far too quiet during this war, if you ask me. Aside from a few skirmishes involving that group at PSU and Susan Garrett the only cousin who seems to be overtly on the prowl is John Dencoff. Now, is he acting under Uncle's orders, or is he behaving like his usual semi-free agent self? Was that designed to keep us all busy with him, giving the other cousins time to plan or are the cousins *not* the major players here? And if *they* aren't, then that means that Janette most likely *is*. And *that* is both totally uncharacteristic and frightening at the same time. Sharon ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Thu, 7 Jul 1994 16:44:57 -0800 From: "S. Tanaquil Johnson" Subject: FKWars2: Going Undercover "AAARRRRGGGGGHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!" Birds fell from the trees and neighbors two blocks away jumped out of their skin. The UCB seismic hotline was puzzled by a sudden rash of phone calls from North Berkeley, wanting to know what that was on the Richter scale. "There are HOW many messages on the server?" Tanaquil tried to stare the screen out of countenance, but failed. Eudora continued to chirpily inform her that it was downloading message X of 57; the beach-ball pointer spun merrily. Sometimes, Tanaquil reflected grumpily, the cuteness of Mac applications could be *really* annoying. "But all I did was go out for coffee!" she wailed. This war was definitely getting out of hand. What was happening to her allies and compatriots? At least her hard drive hadn't yet been infected by any Barney viruses. Well, there was no time to be lost. She had to get caught up with events and decide what to do next. When she finally finished skimming through the last of the messages, she immediately hit the key to start a new message. To: shihc@cunyvm.cuny.edu vmeachum@freenet.scri.fsu.edu nlambert@toronto.gov.ca From: pinax5@garnet.berkeley.edu Subject: Our Next Move I definitely need to come up with an alias for you guys. Do any of you have the slightest idea what's going on? Nothing makes any sense to me. Laurie is a Ravenette now? Susan Garrett has been composing torments in her sleep? The Ravenettes seem to be in an utter state of chaos. And I don't like the vibes I'm getting from that malevolence of cousins at all. John hasn't even *tried* to corrupt my system or deliver anything unpleasant to my door. I find this very worrying. Valerie, I'm with you. We need to go onto the offensive at the earliest possible moment. Surveillance at the Raven sounds like a definite priority; I'm game, if you think we can pull it off. Cousin John certainly knows my affiliation now, but no one on this list knows what I look like, so I could try a spot of undercover work. Or, I could pretend to have had a sudden change of heart. What do you all think? Perhaps more important, are there any Ravenettes we can really trust? I'm going to need all the help I can get! There's nothing to keep me here in Berkeley. I think Valerie has me confused with Selma. My parents have no idea what I'm involved in, for which I think we can all be profoundly grateful. My poor, deluded dissertation chair thinks I'm working away in the library, and anyway he's about to leave for New Zealand. He won't even notice I've gone. Thank the goddess I've just paid off all of my credit cards; I'll book a seat on the first available flight to Toronto. I'll take my Powerbook 520c with the internal modem so I can keep in touch. (Sharon, you aren't the only one who can play wish-fulfillment! :) I'll keep switching accounts to confuse our enemies, I have access to half a dozen. I'll keep an eye on all of them, so you should be able to reach me easily. I only hope the Cousins try to sabotage pinax5. It's now being used to receive the department's subscription to CLASSICS-L, and to my certain knowledge nobody has logged onto it since mid-April. You can't imagine how dull it is to read a mailing list devoted entirely to things like arguments about the use of signal fires in antiquity and techniques for improving beginning Greek enrollment. A computer virus or two would really liven things up. Hope to hear from you soon. Good luck on your end! Tanaquil p.s. Betsy, don't succumb to the Dark Side! We need your help!!! She hit "send", and sat back apprehensively. Just exactly what was she getting herself into? S. Tanaquil Johnson ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Thu, 7 Jul 1994 22:39:40 18000 From: Valerie Meachum Subject: FKWars@: Inconvenient Escalation Valerie slogged in from the Ballet Class From Hell, plunking her dance bag in the middle of the floor and calling out a ragged "hello" to Jack. "You okay?" "Yeah. Tim completely discombobulated the entire class, even the whizzes--of which I am not one--but I'm recovering nicely." "Glad to hear it. Want an ice-cream sandwich?" "In a few minutes. I need to check my mail." She gave him a wan smile. "The war, y'know." "Yeah. The war." Shaking his head, Jack stood aside to let her go upstairs, where she quickly reminded herself that her keyboard had gone fritzy again this morning and then convinced Jack to let her use his machine for a few minutes. All hell had broken loose, but they would be a productive few minutes. Her body was informing her in no uncertain terms that it had never before been called upon to perform those particular steps in that particular sequence and saw no reason why it should start now, but she ignored it and plunged back in... --- To: shihc@cunyvm.cuny.edu, sarajnsn@[wherever Tanaquil is--my notes are out of reach ;-) ], nlambert@toronto.gov.ca From: vmeachum@freenet.fsu.edu Re: So my timing bites Sue me. No backing down, right? Tanaquil, use your judgment on the undercover thing. If you think you can get away with pretending to change allegiances, go for it. If you think that's too much of a risk, stick with the anonymous Raven patron bit. Sharon, good work with Betsy. Keep an eye on her; sounds like she needs it. Anybody got a useful job for her that won't get her into too much trouble until she really knows the stakes? Nat, when you're through fuming about finding Janette's sizes on the database, *please* get back to me about what other "sensitive" information was on there. I think I'm starting to smell what "Uncle" is after, but I can't form a really solid concept until I know what was there. I know Nick won't be real big on the idea, but remember, I used to be a Cousin and I have some concept of the thought processes. *You* know discretion isn't an issue with me; put in a good word to Nick, okay? Finally, I think you guys heard from Laurie too. Do you have any notion what she was talking about? She was a Cousin too recently, and plays her hand a little too close. She needs to explic! More soon. Brain bubbles are forming... --- A few more pieces, she hoped, and the puzzle might start to look like a picture... -- The Bad Penny * Valerie Lynn Meachum ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Thu, 7 Jul 1994 21:33:50 EDT From: "Betsy Vera" Subject: Re: An idea!!! "A place where I'll be safe?" Betsy stared at Sharon. "Who cares about 'safe'? I joined this war to have fun!" Sharon noticed an insane gleam in Betsy's eyes. More like a Cousin than a Nat-Packer, she thought, but she put it down to beginner's eagerness. "You're in, then?" "Yeah, I'm in. Can I bring Ace along?" "Ace?" "My dog. She's a border collie mix. Biggest coward in Ann Arbor, but that makes her a great watchdog. She'll warn you if anybody even *thinks* about coming near the house." "But she didn't bark when I came up." "She's eating dinner." "Oh." So, these were her new recruits: an apparently unstable newbie and a dog more interested in dinner than defense. Betsy was still talking: "I'd better leave her behind, though. She doesn't like loud noises, and I bet this war is going to be loud, right?" Not only unstable, but wishy-washy as well. "So, when do we leave?" Betsy was almost bouncing with excitement. Something about Betsy made Sharon suspicious. Maybe it was the way she was *so* eager to join the Nat-Pack, practically throwing herself at them and making a big show of not wanting to join the Cousins. How could Sharon be sure she wasn't really a spy sent by LaCroix to infiltrate Nat's ranks? Or was she really just the eager beaver she appeared to be? Sharon thought twice before answering Betsy. ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Sun, 10 Jul 1994 03:46:00 EDT From: DionneEN@AOL.COM Subject: FKW2 What To Do? Friday Evening Dionne sat down at her Mac to log on, and hopefully hear that the war was almost over. Of course she knew better,Lacroix and Nicholas were involved and they had already been fighting for 800 years. As Dionne read the digest her black cat Goblin curled up on her lap and stared at the screen with great interest. The human didn't notice the cat's intellectual curiosity because she was busy. Should she join one of the main factions? She thought she was supposed to, but which one? Sometimes she wanted to join one side, but then something would make her stop and think about the others. It was safer (and much less hypocritical) to remain a Die-Hard. Of course the FOSsiLs had a definite point, why be a vampire or human when you could be a cat? Goblin thought all that was well and good,, but she wanted to be a cat with some really cool playmates. So she read all the posting, she normally only read the short ones about her idol, but this was important. When Dionne got up to get a coke Goblin grabbed a packet of Tender Vittles and hid it by the door. 10 Minutes Later *Are you done yet? I want to go out and play* Goblin said, winding sinuously about Dionne's feet. "Oh, all right. Go outside, but don't complain to me when there are still too many cars" Dionne opened the door but didn't see Goblin grab the Tender Vittles on her way out. DionneEN@aol.com Dionne Die-Hard/FOSsil Goblin Cat, Ravenette ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Sun, 10 Jul 1994 03:46:21 EDT From: DionneEN@AOL.COM Subject: FKW2 Goblin On Her Own Goblin settled into her hidy-hole on the airplane (_Large_ airplane, much bigger than a car). Now for the hard part, fixing dinner. Somedays a girl just needed opposable thumbs. She chased the pouch around clawing at it. Then she saw the human, watching her. "Hello pretty cat, you look just like a little raven. Are you a stowaway?" the human asked. `Goblin, being well versed in the cat manual, and quite knowledgeable about ravens, said nothing, but looked at her feline MRE. "Ok, ok, here you go" the human easily opened the pouch. "Thank You for flying USAir and enjoy your stay in Toronto"> The human walked away chuckling. Goblin enjoyed a quite meal. Janette smiled at the small black shape as it slide into her club. Maybe Goblin could give her some insight into what the FOSsiLs were going. She thought about sending the cat in as a spy but decided against it. She asked her bartender for a saucer of cream and headed into the back room. DionneEN@aol.com Dionne Empress of Cats, Die-Hard/FOSsiL Goblin Cat, Ravenette ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Fri, 8 Jul 1994 13:25:56 EDT From: Panstygia@AOL.COM Subject: Jumping the Fence The pounding beat of the music coming from the Raven, across the street, twisted Nan's stomach into knots. Of course, the argument with Janette, which had ended abruptly with a scream and a slamming door, hadn't helped Nan feel any more relaxed. Nan had come to Toronto three days ago to meet with Janette, to pledge her support. But the woman was obsessed, and where before, Janette had always seemed coquettishly eccentric, now she was completely out of control. Whatever her plans were, she was keeping them close to her chest. The Corbies were in chaos around her, but she was too intent on her mad scheme to rein them all in. Suddenly, it was too unsettling for Nan, too uncertain. Maybe she was just getting old... or maybe the Truth was finally becoming clear. The computer screen glowed, and she scrolled through the War messages for the day. The "Bad Penny", Ms. Meacham, was still looking for an insider. Maybe it was time to really commit to something. Nan had spent her whole life on the fence, always playing both sides against the middle. Maybe the time had come to take a stand against the Darkness. And Natalie been good for Nick. She had a forgiving heart. Maybe... just maybe... Nan hunched forward over the keyboard, glancing around nervously as she typed, thinking she felt unseen eyes upon her. But her paranoia only confirmed her decision. A lifetime spent on the edge had made her suspicious of every little sound and sight. She typed her message to Valerie, hoping she wasn't too late, hoping there was a place for her on the other side... And praying there really were no prying eyes to see her defection. Valerie: I've been lurking for a while, having pledged myself to Janette a while ago, out of some misguided notion of safety. But I see now how wrong I've been. I want to cross back into the light. I'll be willing to do anything you ask... Can you help me? A Lost Soul, Nan There. It was done. She'd committed herself. Whatever the outcome, at least she knew that, finally, for once, she'd made the right choice. Panstygia@aol.com ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Fri, 8 Jul 1994 08:46:47 -0400 From: Ivy Reisner Subject: FK Wars 2: Monica's Errand LaCroix sat down at his system. Best to see what those silly mortals on the net were up to; a true warrior always gathers what information he could. He hit the on switch and nothing happened. Disgusted he picked up the phone *and John had better fix this fast* but there was no dial tone. He glared at the phone as if threatening it to work, it nearly did. The door opened and Monica let herself in. She threw the lightswitch by the door and nothing happened. "We blew a bulb" she told LaCroix. "A fuse most likely. Fix it." he told her. When she got to the basement, new fuse in hand she saw the old one suffered no damage. She changed it anyway and went back upstairs. The lights still did not answer to her touch. "Take care of this nonsense," LaCroix told her. Perfectly comfortable in the darkness himself he walked into the living room. ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Fri, 8 Jul 1994 22:32:21 EDT From: Tokaara@AOL.COM Subject: Cousin Tok hits Toronto Cousin Tok hits Toronto ------------------ Evening of 7/8 (Friday) Lisa (Cousin Tok, to some) stood below the window of the room Nan was hiding in. Things were slow at the Raven tonight, but you never knew who might be watching from across the alley. She'd known all along where Nan had gone -- she'd followed her all the way to Toronto. There'd been enough time to throw a few clothes (and a special surprise for Nan) into a suitcase and Gandalf & Merlin into their carrier. No time to arrange for a cat-sitter, so they had to come along. Tok had finally found a place to stay that would accept cats. By the time she'd gotten the kitties settled and the laptop set up, it was dark. She'd left the cats loose in the room while she went out to track down Nan. She'd had Nan pegged as a Ravenette, but after lurking near the Raven and overhearing that argument, that might no longer be the case. Second floor room ... hmmm, that could be a problem. Then, Tok noticed the drainpipe running up the side of the building, near Nan's window. Carefully, she climbed up and peered in, just in time to see the message Nan sent to Valerie. Leaving the Ravenettes was good, but she was going in the wrong direction! She needed a little reminder that Uncle and his followers were not to be taken lightly. As Cousin Tok prepared to climb back down, the brackets holding the drainpipe to the building gave an ominous creak. As Tok stared in disbelief, the brackets separated from the structure and the pipe fell away. "Oh no, not again!" thought Tok, just before she landed in the garbage dumpster. Carefully, she peered over the rim. No one seemed to have noticed the crash. "Well, this is one way to find out what kind of trash the Raven throws out," muttered Tok, as she picked unspeakables out of her hair. Luckily, she'd left her "present" for Nan in the car. Gingerly, she made her way back to her car to retrieve the package. Even in darkness, she was able to find Nan's car. Sure enough, there were several tapes scattered in the front. Rick Springfield, of course. All that was left to do was to swap the labels from those to the 'Saturday Night Fever' soundtracks and Bee Gees albums she'd picked up cheap. That, and the special modification to the inside light. The next time Nan popped in one of those tapes, she'd think she was in a disco. (Never confess a violent reaction to disco in the presence of a Cousin!) A little later, Cousin Tok slipped away from the car. Now she needed to go find Uncle and report in. Time to hook up with the other Cousins. +----------------------------------------------------+ | Lisa Luksus tokaara@aol.com | | Cousin 'Tok' | +----------------------------------------------------+ ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Mon, 11 Jul 1994 01:33:47 -0500 From: TMP_HARKINS@DIRAC.PHYSICS.JMU.EDU Subject: FKWARSII--The Grays Hit Toronto July 7, 1994, late evening "Well, we're here!" said Bruce, stepping off the last airplane step. "Toronto." I stepped onto the ground beside him. "Yeah." And no one was gladder than me to have two feet back on solid ground again, even _if_ my gate was a bit unsteady from the drinks I'd had on the plane. After we had collected our baggage, we looked around at the crowded terminal and then looked uncertainly at each other. "Well, what now?" I asked. "I guess the first step should be to get a hotel room until we decide what our next step should be. But first you should call your Mom and tell her we got here safely." "Okay." I walked over to a nearby pay phone and made the call to my Mom. I told her I'd call her back as soon as we had settled into a hotel and told her to give Amanda our love and that we'd talk to her tomorrow. After some searching and our cab driver's recommendation, we found ourselves installed in a modest hotel in the downtown district. "Guess I should give Mom another call and tell her where we are." I picked up the phone in our room, but Bruce said, "Maybe you should use the pay phone in the lobby." "Why?" "The hotel keeps records of calls." "But no one knows we're here." "That may change later." "You'd think you were a Cousin!" "No, just a GM," he said. "Okay. I guess it won't hurt to use some caution. I won't be gone long." I went down to the lobby, made my call, and returned. "Well, at least Mom knows where she can get in contact with us if necessary." Bruce had almost finished his unpacking and I started to do the same. The plane trip, the drinks, and the whole weird situation--not to mention the growing lateness of the hour--was all beginning to catch up with me and make me very tired. But I wondered if we should try to make contact with anyone. "Are we going to go to the Die-Hard Headquarters tonight?" "I don't know if I feel up to handling any vampires tonight." "But we should make contact with someone." "Well, we couldn't bring the computer so we'll have to go in person to the Die-Hard Headquarters tomorrow, I guess. We don't have a phone number." "I wonder if it's listed." I sat on the bed and opened the phone book. "I wouldn't worry about it tonight. We'd be no good to anybody half dead." "Maybe you're right. I just hope we're not too late." I started to put the phone book down again, but thought of something. Yep, it was there--Sidney Lambert. But Nat was probably working. Curious, I looked up Nick's number. It was also listed. But he was probably on duty too. That is, unless the Wars had gotten out of hand. Bruce massaged my shoulders briefly and said, "C'mon, let's get some sleep and we'll get a fresh start tomorrow." I sighed. "Okay." But, despite my fatigue, I had a feeling it was going to be a long night. (Note: GM stands for Gamemaster) --Sandra Gray (hey, I actually remember to sign this time!) --tmp_harkins@dirac.physics.jmu.edu ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Fri, 8 Jul 1994 08:42:43 EDT From: Sharon Himmanen Subject: FKWARSII: Mission: IMPOSSIBLE Mission: IMPOSSIBLE Sharon Himmanen Night of July 7 Early morning of July 8 Caution was obviously the best way to proceed, although she was fairly certain Betsy was just an over-excited newbie who had no real idea what she was getting into. A cousin wanting to infiltrate our ranks would be far more convincing, she thought. Still, it wouldn't hurt to take the time to get to know her a little bit. But how, without making it look too obvious that she was feeling Betsy out? After all, she didn't want to insult her. They'd gone into the house to chat for a bit and for Sharon to send email to the group--she'd been cautious about reporting on Betsy. Better wait for that until she was sure. As she was quitting from her White Knight application a sudden idea occurred to her. Betsy was a virtually unknown entity--what Sharon needed was an application. While filling that out, Sharon could ask a few relevant questions, just to satisfy herself that all was right. Betsy was sitting across from her in the living room practically bouncing up and down with excitement. In fact, she could hardly sit still. And Ace, having finished her meal, was making such a din to wake the dead. Sharon smiled up at her, then casually checked her hard drive. Damn! The only thing she had that was remotely suitable was Laurie Salopek's damn T-shirt application. Still, with a few modifications, it might work. "Ah, I was wondering," Sharon said, looking up from the screen. Betsy jumped to her feet. "Yes!" she said expectantly. "Could I use your bathroom?" "Oh." Betsy's face fell. She'd obviously been expecting something else. "Why sure, it's just over there, down the hall to the left." Sharon stood and picked up the computer and headed for the bathroom, but not before catching Betsy's puzzled glance. "Do you always take your computer into the bathroom with you?" Sharon shrugged. "Don't you?" Betsy looked up. "Well, no. But I don't have a laptop. Maybe if I did, I would." "It's better than the newspaper," Sharon said with a grin, then went into the bathroom. She quickly pulled up the T-shirt form and began making changes. There were too many things to check off--she wanted essay-like answers so she deleted quite a bit and began adding blank lines, her mind scrambling for useful questions. After all, she might as well make this count as well. A tentative knock sounded on the door before Sharon was finished. "Is everything all right?" Betsy asked. "Oh, sure. The . . . uh . . . airplane food just . . . uh . . . didn't sit well you know?" "There's some Pepto Bismol in the cabinet," Betsy said helpfully. She was getting nervous and she was anxious to be off on . . . whatever this was. Finally Sharon was finished--her modified application was now 15 pages long. She exited the bathroom and pulled out her portable printer and printed out a copy. "It's so long," Betsy said. "Yeah, well," Sharon said, feigning sympathy. "Nat's sort of a civil servant. You know how they are about paperwork. Lets just be thankful we don't have to do it in triplicate." "All right," Betsy said. "Let's get started." * * * * * It actually didn't take very long for Betsy to finish the application, during which time Sharon asked quite a few pointed questions. She'd learned enough to know that Betsy had a mercenary nature--if Sharon hadn't stepped in when she had, Betsy would definitely have gone to the cousins. Not that this was such a bad thing--mercenaries were useful in every war. You just had to watch them to make sure they didn't get a better offer and change sides in the middle. *And* she was here just to have fun. But now she had to find a task for Betsy. Her thick copy of the Die-Hards charter caught her eye as she put the computer and completed application away. She pulled out the charter and the flyer and handed them to Betsy. "All right, we're in the process of aligning all the groups against LaCroix. I received this," Sharon said, indicating the charter, "in the mail a few days ago. I'd like *you* to find out what's up with them, what they have planned, etc." "Sort of like Desert Shield?" Betsy asked, hefting the Die-Hards weighty tome. "Yeah," Sharon said, nodding her head. "You *will* see action in this war," she warned and promised, "Especially since it looks like it'll escalate. But this is a war that's going to be won on intelligence and infiltration, not overt attacks. At least not by overt attacks until we're ready, until we've gathered our forces and discovered just what's going on." "Got it," Betsy said. "Good. Here's Valerie Meachum's email address. Stay in close contact with her. You have mine as well. And Betsy," Sharon said, closing her computer case. "Yeah?" "Watch your back. We'll try to watch it for you as much as we can, but you might find yourself alone. We're counting on you." * * * * * She'd left Betsy's and headed for the airport. On the way, she stopped at a nearby park and carefully scribbled a short note to Valerie. Valerie, I have given Betsy Vera the task of contacting the Die-Hards. While I'm fairly certain of her loyalties we should keep in mind that she's something of a mercenary. It might not be a bad idea to initiate several contacts to the Die-Hards, including hers. I've enclosed an application I had her fill out. It was mostly to kill a bit of time while I found out more, but there's some useful information on it. As for me, I'm on my way to PSU. It occurred to me that it might not be a bad idea to keep an eye on things at the Raven and what's up with the Cousin's. And while I have no doubt that Laurie's defection to the Ravenette's is real, her email notes indicate to me that she's still thinking like a cousin. While that could prove useful, it could also be dangerous. Oh, I meant to tell you that Sandra Grey contacted me a few days ago, but with the Betsy crisis, I just didn't have time to get back to her. She found the Die-Hards flyer and is interested in helping out, but she doesn't have an affiliation. AND, I received an interesting email from Susan Garrett. I'll pass it on to you when I get a chance. Later, Sharon She folded the note and the application into a tiny square then rolled it into a tight cylinder. Putting her fingers into her mouth she let out a sequence of whistles. In no time a pigeon alighted on the bench next to her. Sharon quickly put the note and the application in the birds leg carrier and sent it on its way to Valerie. It should get there sometime this morning. The sun was just peeking over the horizon as Sharon pulled out the torn pieces of the plane ticket. She briefly toyed with the idea of taping it together and going to PSU under the guise of Betsy Vera but ruled that idea out immediately. Sandye had only met her once, but she couldn't take the chance that she'd remember who she was. Oh well, Sharon thought. It would have been nice to fly first class. She had to admit that LaCroix knew how to take care of his minions. So, instead, she settled for coach and a clear conscience. ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- ---------------[Friday, July 8th]------------ --------------------------------------------- Date: Thu, 7 Jul 1994 14:13:44 -0400 From: Elizabeth A Scroggs Subject: FKWAR2: A lurker joins the fray "I can't believe it. Seven months we've been lurking, waiting to make our move, and now that we have our chance, your modem won't work!" Betsy was beside herself. Windy had been the one who told her about the handsome vampire cop in Toronto and his charming companions. They found the list right after the first war and decided to lurk, gather information until the next one. Windy had kept up, and had paid more attention to what had been going on. They figured once the war started, she would be the one to throw them into it. But now the next war was happening, and Windy was far away. "I can't help it Betsy. You'll have to fight without me. Tell me what's happened." "There's a new Betsy here besides me, she jumped right into the war and the Cousins got her." Betsy shuddered involuntarily. "I hope she realizes what she's got herself into." "What about you? What are you going to do?" "You know, Windy, it's the strangest thing. All this time I thought I was a Die-Hard, but lately... I dunno. The other day, out of the blue, I bought a choker. And I've developed a taste for fine wine. And you already know about my appreciation for good looking men," "Yes, yes. I know." Betsy could almost see Windy rolling her eyes over the phone, and smiled. "I think I need to try and help Janette, if she'll have me." "Okay, if that's how you feel. Good luck, Betsy. And be careful." "I'll try. But if you don't hear from me in a few weeks, start to worry." As soon as she hung up, Betsy went to get her suitcase out of the closet. 'If I'm going to go, I might as well go all the way,' she thought. "Hello, BWI? I need a first class ticket to Toronto as soon as possible. This evening? Perfect." On her way to the airport, Betsy stopped at the bank and got some money she was saving for a rainy day. For days it had been pouring, but she only just noticed it. ----------- Betsy Scroggs betsy@jhunix.hcf.jhu.edu ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Fri, 8 Jul 1994 08:59:18 -0400 From: "L.D. Steele" Subject: FK WarsII: Dawn endures the heat... The weather in Hamilton and Toronto had taken a nasty turn in the past few days. Humidity was at 94%, which meant the Humidex reading at 8 in the morning was already 28 centigrade. *What's that in Fahrenheit? Oh well, something high*. Dawn was sitting stickily at her computer, reading war updates. Yesterday had been exhausting and she'd done the minimal amount of reading. *I almost wish I was a vampire right now. They seem to have a much broader comfort range in temperatures.* Dawn absentmindedly listened to the weather channel on tv. Apparently a lot of regions in the US were having a heat wave as well. *I'm a transplant from the Maritimes. I'm used to this kind of weather.* The weather channel droned on, "... the jet stream is curving over ontario pushing hot air into Southern Ontario... the humidex highs in Toronto will reach 39 centigrade today... " Dawn thought of all the people who were flying to Toronto for the war. It had been the middle of the winter during the last one. *I wonder if they know that Southern Ontario is warm during most of the summertime. They better not come up here and expect to get away from hot weather.* From the most recent reports it looked as if the war was currently in a less actively visible stage. People changing alliances left and right, but that was to be expected. *It looks as if the Cousins, and Ravens are hatching plans.* Dawn was pleased. So far it looked as if the main purpose behind the leaflets and charter had succeeded. Die-Hards weren't being forced to join any one group. Lurkers were coming out of the corners to choose sides, that their prerogative. She starting getting organized for work, there was a lunch to be made, and plants to water before she left. *I shouldn't be overconfident though. What if this is just a lull in the war.* The Nat-Packers would probably honor the charter, but the others might disregard it. *I think I should have insurance. If I can get it, I might even be able to help end the war...* Logging back on to her account, she starting writing... ---------------------------------------------------------------- Dawn steele@fern.physics.mcmaster.ca ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Fri, 8 Jul 1994 12:26:28 -0500 From: Jennie Hayes Subject: FK wars II: Sneaking in Friday, July 8th 10:00 a.m. Jennie sighed as she (finally) finished reading over her E-mail from the last five days. She'd been somewhat behind the times, as a result of a weekend visit to family and friends in Milwaukee and staying rather late. She was really regretting not popping down to Chicago to check on things Monday, since she'd have gotten news about the war then. At least her Natpack sources had kept her fairly well informed, and she hadn't been hit with any of the viruses floating around yet. Wondering what she could possibly do, she began to clean up from her latest experiment. As she hoisted the heavy chloroform bottle to its shelf, her expression grew thoughtful. She checked the calendar on her desk, then headed toward her supervisor's office. Returning an hour later with a gleeful smile creeping across her face, she began making her preparations... --- To: Vmeachum@freenet.scri.fsu.edu, shihc@cunyvm.cuny.edu From: Jmhaye@skcla.monsanto.com Subject: Re: Striking back Sorry to jump in so late, but the war started without me. I thought you might like to know that I'm scheduled to head up to Toronto for a chromatography conference next week, and I've arranged to take some comp time and go up there a bit early, like...this afternoon. I'm afraid I have publicly declared my affiliation with the Natpack so I wouldn't be the best agent for the Raven (although I may have a plan to overcome that if necessary...) but I would make excellent backup for anyone you do have there. At least I didn't send in my application, so nobody knows much about me or what I look like. I'm packing all of my Raven-appropriate clothing, the departmental powerbook, and a 'demonstration' for the convention which just happens to contain a very nice little bag of tricks from the lab here. Let me know where I can be most useful! --- After sending the message off, Jennie turned the rest of her work over to the summer student to finish off, gathered up her bag of tricks and the powerbook and headed out. On the way, she stopped at the travel office to check with them. Gloria looked up as she entered. "Oh, hi, Jennie. It's all set. You can pick up your ticket at the airline desk tomorrow and the bed and breakfast you wanted had a vacancy. All the reservations are in the company name, like you asked. May I ask why, though?" "Uh, probably nothing, but some crazy woman followed some friends and I up there on a trip last year, and since she has connections at some airline - I just don't want it happening again." "Well, whatever. Have a nice trip!" --- Back at her apartment, she started packing up. Just in time, she remembered to ask her neighbor to water the plants on her patio while she was gone. she thought. She also put out plenty of birdseed. They might not need it at this time of the year, but she wanted to keep them coming back. Finally she put a brand new block of suet out for Snuggles, the downy woodpecker. Satisfied at last, she went back to packing. A frantic search through her file cabinet turned up an old envelope which she tossed into her purse. Satisfied that she was ready to go, she logged on to check her e-mail before leaving. (to be continued) Jennie Hayes jmhaye@skcla.monsanto.com ----------------------------------------------------------------- -------------- Date: Tue, 12 Jul 1994 01:06:29 -0500 From: TMP_HARKINS@DIRAC.PHYSICS.JMU.EDU Subject: FKWARSII--At the Die-Hard Digs July 8, 1994, 10:00 AM "This is _it_?" I said as I stood looking at the somewhat dilapidated St. George Residence. "It looks like it ought to be condemned." "Well, there's the while and red cross on the entrance so this must be the place. It's right next to the Toronto university like Kathy wrote to us," said Bruce. We walked up to the door. "Maybe we should take out some ID," said Bruce. We both dug out our drivers licenses. Then we knocked on the door. A young woman answered our knock. Bruce smiled and said, "Hi, I'm Bruce Gray and this is my wife, Sandra. We're looking for the Die-Hard Headquarters?" She looked at our IDs. Then she smiled and said, "You found 'em! I'm Kathy." We all shook hands and she invited us inside. "Don't be fooled by the outside appearance of this place. We're well protected here. The place is scheduled to be torn down in a couple of years though." 'I can believe that,' I thought. She continued to talk as we followed her to a living/recreation room in the back of the building. "It was a graduate student residence before we took it over as our Headquarters. It's good to have a few more Die-Hards here. We can use all the help we can get." "Actually, I'm a Die-Hard, but Sandra's not." "Oh, well, doesn't matter. The Headquarters is for anyone who wants sanctuary." "Well, we didn't exactly come for sanctuary," said Bruce. "We came for some information." "Information?" "Yeah, you know. What's going on with the Wars." "Oh. Well, our information is kind of sketchy right now. The main thing is LaCroix and his Cousins stole the mail from _all_ the factions groups _and_ Nick's laptop computer with whatever database information was on it from Nick's place. So your applications are probably in the hands of the Cousins." "Applications?" Bruce asked. "Oh, yeah, being a Die-Hard means you never filled one out. Did you?" she asked, looking at me. "No. We're both new to this. We've only been on the list since early April." "Well, at least that means the Cousins probably won't target you since they don't know anything about either of you." "What's the Die-Hard position in all this?" asked Bruce. "We're offering protected sanctuary to anyone who requests it and are prepared to mediate an end to the conflicts according to our charter." "Charter?" "Oh. Well, since you're so new, I guess you haven't heard about that either. Let me go get you a copy and maybe some coffee or tea or something?" "Coffee sounds fine. Thanks," I said. "Yeah, coffee," added Bruce. Tracy left us, but soon returned with a tray of coffee and fixings and a rather large stapled "report" of some kind. She set down the tray and passed the report to Bruce. It was the Die-Hard charter. "I've--got some things to do, so I hope you'll excuse me Make yourselves at home and I'll be back in a while." I started to put cream and sugar in our coffee while Bruce settled back to read the voluminous Die-Hard charter. Fortunately he was a fast reader. At one point, he murmured, "Woo, laser defenses." Eventually Tracy returned. "Have you had a chance to go over the charter?" "Yeah," said Bruce, holding it out to her. "Keep it. We've got more. Do you have a place to stay yet?" "Yeah. We got in last night." He hesitated, then said, "Do you have a phone number here? We couldn't bring our computer from home and don't have any way to make contact otherwise short of coming back here in person." "Oh, sure." She gave us the number and I wrote it in my notebook that I kept in my tote bag style purse. "I assume you have computers here," said Bruce. "Of course." "Well, I'm fairly proficient in their use if you need any help." "I'll keep that in mind." "Could I look at your database now? We know very little and I'd like to get an idea where everything stands." "I'll just wait here," I said. Kathy led Bruce away. I sipped my coffee and perused the Die- Hard charter. After a while, they returned, Bruce saying, "Well, we have some things we want to do around town today, so we really should leave now. We'll check in on the number you gave us throughout the day to see what's happening." We said our goodbyes. As we stepped down onto the sidewalk, a wasp flew near Bruce. He fled down the sidewalk and I smiled at him as I caught up to him. "I hate bees," he said. "Well, it's gone now. So what did you find out?" Bruce filled me in on some of the things he'd discovered as we made our way around Toronto's shops picking out some final defensive items. --Sandra Gray --tmp_harkins@dirac.physics.jmu.edu ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Fri, 8 Jul 1994 10:43:38 EDT From: Pamela Rush Subject: FoDly foraging Friday, July 8, 1994: Toronto Coroner's Office "Natalie, you'd better come and look at this delivery." "Oh, Grace, just put it where--" Dr. Lambert looked up at her favorite assistant and friend and paused, forgetting the facetious remark she had been going to make when she saw the strange look on Grace's face. Would LaCroix and his demented minions dare to attack here, in a public building in broad daylight? Dr. Lambert abandoned her file without even bothering to SAVE it. "What is it, Grace?" "An *unusual* delivery -- and the driver says it's for *you* personally." "Does he know this is a *morgue*?" "Didn't seem to bother him, but...well, come and see for yourself." Both lab-coated figures hurried out to the loading dock entrance at the rear of the blocky building. An 18-wheel truck was backed up to the dock, rear doors half opened. The driver, a muscular, good-loooking man with typically Scots-Irish colouring, tight jeans and cowboy boots, was leaning nonchalantly against the doorframe and whistling. The huge trailer was plainly labeled UNITED CARBIDE in foot-high letters. Dr. Lambert approached the driver cautiously, Grace's natural dignity and solid strength next to her lending her assurance. "I'm Dr. Lambert. Can I help you?" "Danaher," the driver said, touching two fingers to an imaginary hat in salute," and I think I can do something for *you*. At least, I was told you'd be happy to get this delivery." "Uh, gee, Mr., uh, Danaher...I appreciate the thought, but I really don't know what I'd do with more *batteries*...." A warm Irish chuckle cut short her confusion. "No, not batteries...that's my *business*. This delivery is a... private favor. It's not on the manifest and this stop is completely off the record." As he spoke, Danaher was loading several small aluminum containers onto a dolly. "Where do you want these?" "But this is a *morgue*!" "Right! Pam said you'd have plenty of *cooler space*. You're gonna need it." "Cooler *what*?! I don't--" But he was already inside and half way down the hallway. Dr. Lambert, eyes wide and mouth slightly open, caught Grace's ironic gaze and was galvanized into action: hurriedly, she turned and half-ran back into the building with Grace close behind her. "Wait a minute. W-a-i-t just one minute! What is that and who's 'Pam' and who the hell are *you*?" "In here?" Danaher asked, turning into the only open door on the hall, which they had left ajar on their way out. "There's a note,"he continued, as they caught up with him. "I don't know anything else about it myself. It's a favor to a relative -- well, not *blood* kin, thank goodness. But when Pam is happy, her sister is happy, and," he indicated the gold band on his left hand, "when her sister is happy, then I'm a happy man. At least this one isn't furniture...or breakables...or *alive*. But I just delivery 'em; I don't explain 'em." Handing Dr. Lambert a folded sheet of paper, Danaher gave the ladies a mock bow and strode off. Natalie stared dumbly after him and thought The metallic click of a latch recalled her to the present puzzlement and she realized with a frisson of terror that Grace was opening one of the boxes! "No! Grace, don't--" she exclaimed, thoughts of bombs and cunning traps and exotic poisonous gases flashing through her mind. Grace looked at her as though she were delirious. "Well, if you want to keep all the goodies to yourself, just say so!" "Huh?" "All the goodies," Grace reiterated, poking about in the chest. Two steps closer and Dr. Lambert could see that it was really an insulated picnic-type freezer container. It was full of vacuum sealed food storage bags, each coyly revealing tantalizing glimpses of different gourmet foodstuffs. Grace was examining the seal on a bag of ratatouille when Dr. Lambert remembered the note still clutched in her hand; opening it, she was mystified by the cryptic message: Store in a cool place until needed. Minimal garlic content guaranteed at .08% per serving. EXCEPT FOR BLAUTWEINER FOR NICK (GARLIC FREE). Signed: FoDs of the Internet FoDs? FoDs.... That did sound oh-so-distantly-and-vaguely familiar....Weren't they a small group, very select, utterly discreet, fanatically dedicated to, to.... "Man-oh-man, it's here! Wun-der-bar!" cried Schanke, bursting into the room and slamming the door behind him. "Schanke!" Dr. Lambert was always pleased to see the attractive police detective (too bad he was so *very* married although Natalie held the deepest respect for the profoundly spiritual and passionately erotic relationship between him and the lovely Myra) but if he knew something about this mysterious delivery he would be doubly welcome today. "Schank, do you know what this is?" "Yeah, it's *smor-gas-board*!" he exclaimed gleefully, rubbing his hands together in anticipation. "I *know* it's food, but...why? Where'd it come from? What's it for?" "Oh, a few of my friends in the States--" thought Dr. Lambert, "--send me some snacks occasionally. Just stuff it's hard to get in Toronto or stuff they want me to try or stuff they have taking up too much room in *their* refrigerators. Anyway, usually I get one package a month, more or less, but then, the last couple of months: Nada! Niente! Rein! Not a taco, not a sausage, not a dolmade; I mean, I was starting to feel *neglected*! Then this morning I get a message through the Ham radio network -- did you know that's always free? pretty neat, huh? -- saying that the post office or someone has screwed up deliveries but they're sending a *major* shipment to make up for it. And, here it is! There's plenty, Nat, Grace -- help yourselves. Uh, you can, like, *store* some of this here until we get to it? You do have a drawer free, right?" * * * * Later the same day: someplace in Kentucky "...CONFIRM YOUR MESSAGE DELIVERED AT THIRTEEN-FORTY ZULU THIS DATE." Static crackled merrily but the tinny voice came through loud and clear at 20 over 9 dB. "TRAFFIC FOR YOUR STATION, KI4OD, ORIGINATING THIS STATION, THIS TIME, THIS DATE, WITH A COUNT OF ELEVEN, AS FOLLOWS: SHIPMENT RECEIVED MANY THANKS AND BON APPETITE TO YOU TOO DON END OF MESSAGE. NO MORE, KI4OD. THIS IS VE3CKT." "Roger. I count eleven. Thanks a lot, Terry, and I'll check in again soon." Pamela let the front legs of her chair slam back onto the rag rug in the rig room. "VE3CKT and the net, this is KI4OD and I'm clear on this frequency." She switched off the amplifier, the tuner and the old but trusty Drake TR-4 transceiver. So far, so good.... But what to have for dinner? ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Fri, 8 Jul 1994 12:54:29 -0400 From: Ivy Reisner Subject: FK Wars 2 : Precautions Ivy sat down at her terminal. *Think like a cousin now, how would they strike?* She logged onto the network. *Better defend against the simple.* Nick, I am having some foodstuffs delivered to your loft. Nothing that has much of a smell, fruits mostly and frozen goods. Natalie can use them after the war, but I don't want LaCroix reporting you as a potential alcoholic (that's how it would look -- all you have are wine bottles) especially with you being a cop and all. His eating habits are likely the same but with the cousins running around it might not wash to accuse him of the same. Let me know if you think it viable? - Ivy She called the local grocer to have the stuff delivered, and charged it to LaCroix, why not damage his card a little more? She caught the transaction and approved it the moment it came through. That done she started another message. Knighties, We need to set up a contact network, each member calling in a circle on preset intervals so the rest will know if something has gone wrong. Contact me. I'll start the chain going as soon as I start to receive responses. ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Fri, 8 Jul 1994 12:46:58 -0800 From: "S. Tanaquil Johnson" Subject: FKWars2: En Route En Route Friday, July 8, 3pm, PDT Usually on long flights Tanaquil found it impossible to read anything that didn't have Fabio on the cover, but today her first priority was planning strategy. Flipping open the Powerbook on her lap, she reviewed her recent correspondence over and over. To: pinax5@garnet.berkeley.edu From: vmeachum@freenet.scri.fsu.edu Subject: Potential Allies Received some messages this morning that I thought might be of use to you. Hope this reaches you before you leave. This one was forwarded to me by Sharon S. after I told her that we were planning to make a move on the Raven: >To : SelmaMc@AOL.COM SCOTTS@BAYLOR.EDU >From : ava.chan-crowder@wcoast.cts.com >Subject : New Operative > >Hi Sharon and Selma - > >I have been lurking for the past couple of months, and I am now >ready to join in the war. Being unemployed, I have all the time in >the world, and I now submit myself to be your newest operative. >Luckily, my affiliation wasn't known when Nick's laptop was >stolen, (my application is still sitting in front of me) all available >information about myself is also at a minimum (no Barney fears here). >Additionally, there is nothing here to keep me in San Diego during >the war...football season hasn't started yet and there are no current >job prospects. I am available ASAP wherever the Knighties need me. >I look forward to working with you all. > >~~~Ava :-) AvaABC123@aol.com > ava.chan-crowder@wcoast.cts.com And here's one who says she's actually on her way to Toronto: >Date: Fri, 8 Jul 1994 12:26:28 -0500 >To: Vmeachum@freenet.scri.fsu.edu, shihc@cunyvm.cuny.edu >From: Jmhaye@skcla.monsanto.com >Subject: Re: Striking back > >Sorry to jump in so late, but the war started without me. I >thought you might like to know that I'm scheduled to head up >to Toronto for a chromatography conference next week, and >I've arranged to take some comp time and go up there a bit >early, like...this afternoon. > >I'm afraid I have publicly declared my affiliation with the Natpack >so I wouldn't be the best agent for the Raven (although I may >have a plan to overcome that if necessary...) >but I would make excellent backup for anyone you do have >there. At least I didn't send in my application, so nobody knows >much about me or what I look like. > >I'm packing all of my Raven-appropriate clothing, the departmental >powerbook, and a 'demonstration' for the convention which just >happens to contain a very nice little bag of tricks from the lab here. > >Let me know where I can be most useful! And this one could mean a real break for us: >Date: Fri, 8 Jul 1994 13:25:56 EDT >From: panstygia@aol.com >To: vmeachum@freenet.scri.fsu.edu > > I've been lurking for a while, having pledged myself to Janette a > while ago, out of some misguided notion of safety. But I see now > how wrong I've been. I want to cross back into the light. I'll be > willing to do anything you ask... Can you help me? > > > A Lost Soul, > > Nan As long as Janette doesn't find out what Nan is up to, we will have an insider on our side. From the rumors I've been hearing, she might not be the only Ravenette who is getting scared. If "Cousin" Monica is to be believed, Janette is out to get everyone who was associated with the Warren in the last War, and that includes a lot of her followers. Keep an eye on Hilary, Tara, Susan and Liz-Hazel, if any of them show up in Toronto. Not to mention, of course, "Cousin" Monica and ex-Cousin Laurie. Who knows where their loyalties really lie. I contacted Jennie and Nan and told them you were on your way. I'll leave it to you to figure out how to contact them when you arrive, if they don't find you first. Sharon H. has gone to PSU. I don't know whether she's within reach of e-mail or not. Her last message reached me via pigeon post, if you can believe it. Good luck! Later! Tanaquil moved on to the next message she'd saved: To: Nat Pack Cc: Knighties From: sarajnsn@violet.berkeley.edu Subject: Update Hello all! I'm leaving for Toronto this afternoon. The more eyes we have at the Raven, the better. Janette has to be the key to this thing. I may have to lay low over the weekend in order to work out my best method of approach. I've checked and triple checked the security on this account; I think it's safe to use again. I'll be checking in regularly, so let me know of anything useful you might hear. Does anyone know what the Graces and the FOSSILS have been up to? Hope to be in touch again by Monday, if not before. Tanaquil Tanaquil fidgeted in her seat. As soon as the plane landed, she would find an obscure motel somewhere and complete her disguise. It didn't look as if it would be necessary to actually pretend to be a Ravenette, not with a Ravenette already on their side. No, the anonymous-club-denizen approach would be best. But it would take a while to make the disguise convincing, and to make contact with the others, who would probably be doing *their* best to be inconspicuous. She hoped that her carefully suppressed Ravenette tendencies were going to come in handy at last. S. Tanaquil Johnson ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Tue, 12 Jul 1994 15:42:40 -0500 From: Jennie Hayes Subject: FKwars2: Interruptions [part 1/2]--------------------------- Interruptions Jennie arrived at OHare a good hour and a half early for her flight, wondering if there was really any point to being early at OHare, since most of her flights out of here were delayed at least two hours. She got in a long line of people at the ticket counter and settled in to wait. Looking about, she noticed several people next to the line apparently waiting for others who were in the line. One very seriously dressed pair made her shake her head and smile. The woman had short red hair and was reading a medical journal, while an intense young man next to her appeared to be avidly studying UFO magazine. Next to all the serious businesspeople here, the magazine was curiously incongruous. After about twenty minutes, she finally made it to one of the harassed looking ticket agents and asked for her ticket. The young mans eyes widened and he said, "Just a moment, Ill go look it up," and walked off rather abruptly through a nearby door. Jennie was still giving the door a puzzled look when a voice right next to her ear said, "Excuse me." Jumping, she whirled around, only to come face to face with a rather impressive looking badge in a holder. The name on the I.D. card with it was Fox Mulder and identified the owner of the badge as F.B.I. Looking up to his face, she was startled to see the man who shed noticed with the UFO magazine earlier, and had to fight down a hysterical giggle. "Eep!" was the only sound she could manage. "I'm special agent Fox Mulder of the FBI and this is special agent Dana Scully," he motioned to the red-haired woman. "We need to talk to you about the Natpack..." ----- By the time Jennie had finally gotten most of the story (reluctantly) out of the FBI agents, she had missed her flight. Even assuming it was delayed. Apparently they had stopped her only because she was the first name on any of the lists they had managed to locate: It seemed everyone else they had tried to contact was either already in Toronto or en route there. Jennie herself would have been home free if someone at the lab hadn't told them she was still en route to the airport and helpfully provided them with her flight info. It had all started when they had tried to contact Lisa regarding her brothers strange associate and found her gone, then turned to trying to locate people from the membership lists on the laptop discovered in Brian's apartment. Things had moved swiftly downhill from there. Now, they wanted to know what was up and seemed to expect answers from Jennie, answers which she didn't dare provide. Not that she knew very much anyhow, but she couldn't even tell them about the factions or who they followed. From the way things looked right now, Scully would want to lock her up as a lunatic and Mulder would want to go charging out on a vampire hunt. Neither option was terribly appealing. Finally, she convinced them of how little she knew, telling them the Natpack was just a group of friends who had formed sort of a club to discuss things on the Internet, and that the Knighties were another group that had turned out to have similar interests. As for everyone heading for Toronto, she had been told about some trouble with a virus and that nobody was sure who was responsible. The rumor was that a young man had been arrested for it whom nobody believed was the culprit and so everyone who could make it to Toronto was going there to have a face-to-face meeting and try to come up with a good solution to the problem. It seemed that they believed her, and they let her go arrange for another flight after giving her a business card with phone numbers where they could be reached if she found out anything they might like to know, but she was awfully tired and decided to try and grab a flight to Toronto the following day. Surely Natalie and the others wouldn't mind her getting a good nights rest, under the circumstances. Upon arriving home, she checked her answering machine. There was a message on it from Robin Bonke, complaining about how a Barney virus had attacked the entire computer system where she worked and how impossible the last few days had been. Jennie sighed and decided to pretend she hadn't gotten the message before her trip - she was just too tired to listen to yet *another* Barney-related problem. [end of part 1/2] --------------------------------------------------------- ----- Jennie, Natpack jmhaye@skcla.monsanto.com --- This? Its a lateral cranial impact enhancer! --- ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Tue, 12 Jul 1994 03:12:22 EDT Reply-To: Forever Knight TV show stories Sender: Forever Knight TV show stories From: DionneEN@AOL.COM Subject: FKW2 Play! [part 1/2]---------------------------------- (time ? -- before the bomb) Goblin looked around the club. Janette had asked her to look out for pests. She said that dangerous stupid people sometimes follow wars and that they got in the way. She had used a word Goblin didn't know, non-combatant, but Goblin knew what a pest was. She was going to stop the pests. ------ DionneEN@aol.com Dionne Empress of Cats, Die-Hard Goblin Ravenette, enjoying the play-acting, she gets to be outside longer ----------------------------------------------------------------------- ------------- Date: Fri, 8 Jul 1994 12:47:41 EDT From: Lisa McDavid Subject: FKwars2: Family Feud turns Wagnerian [part1 of 2] About 5:30 pm. this afternoon, the 8th of July: "Oh, good, you're on the desk." Thus spake Lisa as she stepped out of the revolving doors at the Thomas Fisher Rare Book Library at the University of Toronto. She was humming the Ride of the Valkyries. All she needed was a horned helmet and a spear. Anne gulped and appeared to wonder if she could do guard duty from *under* the desk. "Lisa, what a nice surprise. I thought you weren't coming to Toronto until the Trek." "So did I," said Lisa, submitting her tote bag and purse for inspection. "More to the point, so did Larry." Not having found anything that would do as an excuse to keep Lisa out, Anne had to let her through the gate. Of course the tote bag had to be surrendered, but not the laptop, once it had proven not to contain false bottoms for smuggling out books. "I thought Larry was in San Francisco." "He was supposed to be. He's going to be after I'm finished with him." Lisa indulged in one of her grins, sobering hastily as her friend backed away. "It's all right. I'm not asking you to hide anything this time. Although I really *didn't* realize that the wrapping on that fish wasn't airtight." Anne was heard to mutter placatingly that she should never have told Lisa that the student assistants referred to the place as the Thomas Booker Rare Fish Library. "Actually," Lisa continued, "I'm here as a patron. Don Bassingthwaite tells me he came across LaCroix's name while looking for something else in your online catalog." "Did he? It can't have been that long since Don had an eye exam." Anne stopped to stare down a would-be pen user, a distinct no-no in rare book circles. "No, it's there. I checked by telnetting into the catalog before I took off. He's an added entry for a donor. Anne, why didn't you tell us on Vampyres that the copy of Dracula with the interpolated text and pornographic illustrations that Aubrey Beardsley gave Stoker that famous April Fool's when they were both arrested for being drunk is in your library?" "It is?" "According to the catalog. Only, I know LaCroix." Lisa's smile returned, along with an odd look at the back of her eyes. "If he had *that* Dracula, there's no way he'd give it to anybody. So, I've come to see what it really is." "Maybe he needed a tax break?" "LaCroix doesn't pay taxes. Revenue Canada has lost several agents trying to make him." Lisa stood aside as another staffer replaced Anne on the guard desk. Then she continued. "Look, I know it's probably not your job, but can you get this item from DG10 for me?" No doubt figuring that the sooner Lisa got the book, the sooner she'd go away, Anne graciously complied. She regretted it almost instantly, when Lisa's war whoop wasn't stifled quite soon enough to not to turn heads. "Sorry," said Lisa. "But it's exactly what I thought. It's the Abarat." Before Anne could intervene, she slipped the bottom of the laptop over the open book. "Lisa, are you trying to get me fired?" "Nope," said her alleged friend, calmly restoring the Abarat in Dracula clothing to the table. "In fact, I'm going to see to it that the library gets a substantial donation in LaCroix's name, with a cover letter mentioning that it's to be listed as in your honor. Relax, Anne. Larry's got some kind of software that uses quantum theory to abstract and store and translate books in one gulp. I don't know how it works. I don't think even Larry knows, when he's sober." Lisa strode purposefully toward the exit. Anne sank shaking onto a chair, resolving to lead a blameless life henceforth at a new e and home address. [end of part 1 of 2] ----------------------------------------------------------------- --- ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Fri, 8 Jul 1994 09:41:38 -0500 From: "Cousins Sandye, Monica & Dennis" Subject: FKWAR2: Fade to Black Fade to Black These were the times that try men's souls. What kind of world did we live in? What kind of value did we place on our humanity, if when, faced with the choice of kindness or hate, we take the latter for our calling card? How little a cost to claim that dearest part of our soul called brotherhood, but how dear a price we pay when we choose egotism instead... It had been less than a week since the second Forever Knight Fiction War had begun and already it was a free-for-all. Of course, it was supposed to be: Janette's trick to get Nick into trouble with LaCroix, the general run-for-cover mentality that often produced more antagonistic interchange than seemed necessary, and the decidedly "blinder" mentality that caused otherwise logical individuals to deviate from reason and realism. Like rats to a pipers tune they danced to the discordant harmony of one-upmanship. Such was the microcosm of futility in this universe of fiction. But what did all this mean? That was what they were trying to decide. Cousins Sandye, Monica, and Dennis sat around the oak dining room table and pondered the meaning of life. Where was the time going? It had been days and yet nothing was accomplished, nothing was achieved, nothing was attained. LaCroix had his own plans, John had said, and that was true. had their own plans, and when those plans were thwarted, an even more devious one crept back into its place. Were any of them truly different from the entity they so despised? They say you can beat fire with fire; inevitable, the burns scar, no matter how righteous the cause. Yes, life was short, too short perhaps for this, and on a rainy State College evening, three cousins vowed to make a difference. But, what course of action ? Surely, any plan they could come up with would simply appear to be another attempt to gain the upperhand. No one could hear their voices amidst the cacophony of chaos that sprang like weeds in this somewhat empty garden. Afraid to remain, lest they fall prey to the discontent that infected their world, Sandye, Monica, and Dennis decided it was time to leave. Discretion, for them, the better part of valor. Were they shirking their duties? Were they betraying the cousins? Not likely...the war machine raged on with or without them. The factions moved within circles that turned by a power greater than they. Hadn't Nick himself escaped those many years ago? In the long run, they would not be missed. Three cousins made plans to exit gracefully from this conflict, leaving both the trauma and the trouble behind. They wrote a note to LaCroix and had it forwarded to one of his private accounts... Dear Uncle, After a long and careful deliberation, we have decided that the time has come for us to bow out of this latest conflict. An unexpected responsibility prevents us from continuing in any active participation, and rather than be ineffective, the best decision is for us to decline any further involvement. Thank you. Cousins Sandye, Monica, and Dennis. That was it. When everything was said and done, these three cousins felt that they had better bridges to burn. They packed the car--pets and all--and left for destinations as yet unknown. As they drove across the Pennsylvania State line, the damp and rainy day faded into black. Cousins Sandye, Monica, and Dennis. ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Thu, 7 Jul 1994 17:31:02 -0500 From: Debbie Kraft Subject: FKWarsII: FOSsiLs Attack, Delta(4) -- Clipping Little Crow's Wings July 7, 1994 5:30pm, Toronto time Panther moved like liquid ink, a figure swathed in Ninja indigo and faceless, save for his blazing amber eyes. He waited until there were no watchers, flicked his eyes up briefly to the position of the sun, then glided to the closed and locked doors of The Raven. Doors were never a problem. Noise could be. So, he pulled them open as gently as possible. They still made a screeching sound as the metal tabs were torn off. Panther winced, poked his head in, listened, smelled. He smiled under his mask, the corners of his eyes crinkling. Asleep, good. Amen-Ra was hot and strong above him. He took that heat with him as he entered the nightcrawler lair. He'd forgotten about the stench--it was strong enough to make him want to sneeze. He fought the impulse, holding to silence, complete silence. Each footstep, each cautious movement was liquid; he made himself a shadow as he glided past the bar. Not one nightcrawler was about, he could sense that. However, rumor had it that Little Crow often woke earlier than the others. Thus, he paused on the threshold of the basement stairs, stretching his perception out beyond his immediate space, beyond the superficial tomb-like silence. Yes. There. Little Crow *was* awake. He must be swift and unseen. Noiselessly he slipped down into the basement. Gently, quietly, he pulled his tools from his pack and fell to work. The floor came first, and that he dusted liberally with dried garlic distillate. He dusted the sleeping dens as well for good measure. Next came the bottles of blood on the wall. Panther quickly assembled his injection apparatus and inserted hypodermic needles trailing small tubes into one dozen corks. He pressed a single button on the control pad, and a small amount of odorless garlic distillate was delivered into the contents of each bottle. He did the same for the next dozen, and the next, until all the bottles, save one, were contaminated with distillate. His eyes were blazing with triumph as he packed away the injection apparatus and prepared to make his egress. A hand with perfectly manicured nails landed on his left shoulder and bore down with a vice-like grip. "And what do you think *you're* doing?" came an accented, smokey voice. Panther did not answer. He merely pivoted toward the voice and flung the contents of the garlic powder container in her face. She screamed and let go of his shoulder, flinging both hands up to her face as he knew she would. He scrambled away from Little Crow, up the stairs, nerves strung taut to the breaking point. His Gift was pounding at its cage door, wanting out, wanting nightcrawler death. He restrained it, legs pumping him ever closer to the doors. "Hold it, Blackie!" The nightcrawler, a female, landed in front of him, between himself and the doors, her eyes gleaming yellow-gold and her fangs gleaming wetly in the dim light. She snarled at him-- --and his Gift broke free. His still-moving shape shimmered, shifting, reformed itself...and his vision slid into the monochrome-red-blue of a black panther. His pistoning hind legs propelled him straight at the nightcrawler, his claws found her shocked face and tore down and away with sun-fed fury. She fell back, shrieking, hands trying to hold the ragged pieces of flesh on the now-exposed bone of her skull. She crawled away, screaming in counterpoint to Little Crow down in the basement. In his Gifted shape, Panther wanted to go after her. Her fear was a pungent, maddening scent in his nostrils, egging him on to kill this affront to Pasht, to the light of Amen-Ra and his Lady Moon. It was only with effort that he reined the hunting urge back inside, and regained the human shape Pasht had given him. "The light of Amen-Ra shines on you, Nightcrawler," he hissed at the female, his amber eyes blazing fiercely. She cried out and threw an arm up in front of her ruined face. Then, he was out the doors, down the alley, and up to a rooftop. He allowed his Gift to flow over him once more-- --and a black cat rested in the shade of a chimney. He travelled home, unnoticed, another feral cat of the city... /\ /\ ^o o^ D.K. "Cat" Kraft ->T<- cat@eskimo.com ~ Edmonds, WA -- Home of Jimmy Doohan, Star Trek's Scotty ___oOO___OOo___ ----------------------------------------------------------------- ------------ Date: Tue, 12 Jul 1994 08:51:50 -0500 From: TMP_HARKINS@DIRAC.PHYSICS.JMU.EDU Subject: FKWARSII--Cousin John Captured July 8, 1994, time uncertain John opened his eyes, his vision at first blurry. He looked around. Where was he? "You didn't think I'd let you take all your talents over to Sharon Scott and Nick's pitiful followers, did you?" said LaCroix, entering the room "Oh, I intercepted your message to her--or at least a copy of it." He paused. "John, John, I'm _very_ disappointed in you." John sat up, his head spinning. He was lying on a bed in a very elegant, but very male, bedroom. His memory started returning. Someone--a human, he thought, because he'd felt warmth--had snuck up on him when he'd stopped the car for a break and put a cloth over his mouth. What had happened after that and how long he'd been unconscious, he had no idea. LaCroix's eyes had never looked so cold or so deadly as he approached John. He picked up a computer disk from the pile at the end of the bed. John's computer was there too, he noticed. "And you had such promising traits. You would have been of great use to me," continued LaCroix, studying the disk in his hand. John didn't like the use of the past tense. His heart chilled. When LaCroix raised his eyes to John's again, they were golden. His fangs were extended. "You're of no use to me now," he said. Then he reached for John and, lifting him to his feet, pulled him into an embrace. His fangs pierced John's throat. John was paralyzed; he could make no move to defend himself from LaCroix's attack. Soon he was feeling more lightheaded due to the draining of his blood. LaCroix meant to kill him. There was the sound of some commotion in the next room. LaCroix released John with a snarl and John slumped to the floor. He felt like he would pass out, but on some basic primal level he realized that this was his one chance to maybe escape death. He fought to stay conscious and rose unsteadily to his feet. The commotion in the other room was still going on. He didn't know what it was, but knew he needed to get away. Noticing a second door in the room, he decided to make his way to it and hope it was unlocked. On impulse, he grabbed up the computer and disks. A surge of adrenalin powered his flight. The other door was fortunately unlocked and opened onto a small hallway. John stumbled down it and found an elevator. He hit the down button and slumped against the wall. The ground floor of the building was vacant of people, but afternoon sun shone on the sidewalk beyond the glass doors. John stumbled outside, feeling hopeful. He looked around him and recognized where he was. Toronto! Weakness and dizziness was descending on him again. What to do? Nick. Have to get to Nick,' he thought hazily. 'Have to get to Nick.' --Sandra Gray --tmp_harkins@dirac.physics.jmu.edu ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Fri, 8 Jul 1994 12:47:41 EDT From: Lisa McDavid Subject: FKwars2: Family Feud turns Wagnerian [part 2 of 2] It wasn't necessary after all to open the little jar of garlic to force her way into the Raven. A black panther was leaping through the door just as Lisa came up to it. "Pretty kitty!" thought Lisa, wishing she had time to stop and make his acquaintance. As matters stood, it was best to charge through before the door slammed. "Oof!" Only Janette could manage that monosyllable with a French accent. Lisa stared in horror. Even in the dim light the vampire's face looked like a Frankenstein halloween mask. "What the? Oh, still haven't learned about cats, have you. Where's Larry?" Lisa reached into her tote bag. "On the computer, of course. Ma chere, do I dare to hope you've come to take him away?" Janette's had face visibly improved. So did her expression. Lisa was already descending toward the cellar when Larry, eyes squeezed shut and pale even for a vampire, exploded up the stairs and rocketed into the night. A scrap of paper fluttered to the floor in his wake. His sister picked it up, and burst out laughing. Janette looked over Lisa's shoulder. "And you can just stand there? Surely you know what that is. Or were you planning to kill Larry, anyway?" "Of course I know what it is. LaCroix's home address. Janette, I've got a little something to put up to you." ----------------------------------------------------------------- ---- It was five minutes and one traffic cop hypnotized out of a ticket when the little black sports car screeched to a halt in front of LaCroix's building. Lisa hurried inside, cursing all the way up about not being able to fly as the elevator took its time getting to the 13th floor, and erupted into the lobby as soon as the doors opened. She punched in the code Janette had given her at LaCroix's door. A scattering of candles wavered on various surfaces, enough to let Lisa see Larry on the couch in an embrace with Monica. The odd couple sprang apart, but not soon enough. Lisa, shouting in Sanskrit, had thrown a mixture of garlic and rose seeds in Monica's face. With a scream that would have dismayed a banshee, Monica exploded in a blinding white flash. LaCroix dived, cursing, into the room. Feminine sobs rent the air, in counterpoint with soothing muttering from Larry. Lisa's vision cleared. Yes, it was just as she'd thought. In Monica's place, Alexandra sprawled tearfully on the floor. "Hail, hail, the gang's all here!" Lisa said. "No, Frankie, darling. I wouldn't. There's plenty more where that came from and I know the spell. You wouldn't want to spoil your chances of that muzzle for Christmas, now, would you? I admit it. I owe you an apology. I was so sure you were letting Larry keep Alexandra as one of your little jokes on me that I never thought you might have put a wig on her and taken her to State College with you." Lisa smiled. LaCroix flung up a hand in something that might have been a gesture against the evil eye. "I thought you didn't care after that little misunderstanding about the wrong strength steel in the hockey mask." "You, you --" Alexandra burst into language she hadn't used since her days as a 17th century barmaid. Larry, shocked, let go and stood away. Lisa shook her head. "You'd better learn to curse in modern English. After all, you're mortal now." She walked over to LaCroix. "You'd better move the Abarat again. If I can figure it out, so can Nick. At least one of the FOD's has the basic info." LaCroix began to laugh. "My dear," he said, putting an arm around his uninvited guest's shoulders, "I've known Nick a lot longer than you have. The Abarat's perfectly safe -- because trying to repay society has made Nick such a prude that he'd never dream of looking at pornography." Lisa crossed her arms. "Let's hope Schanke's level's no higher than Playboy, then." She turned just in time to intercept Alexandra, who was sneaking up behind her with carving knife. "Still a dingbat after all these years! Alex, honey, even a mortal can hear you doing that now." She grabbed the snivelling blonde and thrust her at LaCroix. "Here, since Larry doesn't seem inclined to do the honors." Shaking her head as LaCroix slurped, Lisa walked over to her brother. "All right, Larry, you might as well make yourself useful. Let's see you take the laptop down to the lobby pay phone and tell Ontario Hydro to get the power back on in here. And don't forget the phones." Cousin Lisa (Probably on the wrong side of the blanket) Lisa McDavid d020214@univscvm (bitnet) d020214@univscvm.csd.scarolina.edu (internet) ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Thu, 14 Jul 1994 18:11:15 -0500 From: TMP_HARKINS@DIRAC.PHYSICS.JMU.EDU Subject: FKWARSII--After the Commotion July 8, 1994, time uncertain LaCroix finally started back to his bedroom to finish with John, although, by now, he might not need to any more. John could be dead already. He opened the door and walked into the room. But John wasn't there! And neither were his computer nor the disks his agents had recovered along with John. A slight trail of blood led over to the other door in the room--the one that lead to the hall. LaCroix opened the door, then stepped back as the brightness of the late afternoon sun blazed through the uncurtained hall window. He shut the door quickly. Damn! This War was _not_ proceeding as he'd planned _at all_. But John couldn't have gotten far. He'd send people looking for him. --Sandra Gray --tmp_harkins@dirac.physics.jmu.edu ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Tue, 12 Jul 1994 03:12:22 EDT Reply-To: Forever Knight TV show stories Sender: Forever Knight TV show stories From: DionneEN@AOL.COM Subject: FKW2 Play! [part 2/2]------------------------------- Goblin roamed around in the dark. She could smell lots of pests, they could probably smell her too, but they couldn't hear her. Goblin liked her new red collar (Janette said she needed red because she was already black) that covered her reflector and rabies tag. She didn't jingle anymore, and nice humans could still find her home phone number. There was a pest. She would kill it and bring it back to the Raven for Janette, she wanted to talk to the pests. Goblin walked through a crack in the wall and dropped her rat. She was very pleased with herself, it was a big rat. Where was everyone? It smelled funny too. Where did all the garlic come from? ------ DionneEN@aol.com Dionne Empress of Cats, Die-Hard Goblin Ravenette, enjoying the play-acting, she gets to be outside longer ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Fri, 8 Jul 1994 15:48:40 -0400 From: Ivy Reisner Subject: FK Wars 2: A Financial Affair Larry, following Lisa's instructions, went down to the payphone to demand in no uncertain terms that the phone and electricity be turned back on. The operator was less than cooperative "I'm sorry sir, you have to bring your account to complete payment before I can restore service. It's the computer." Grumbling he ran back up and snatched LaCroix ATM card. "They want to be paid before they turn it on. We'll straighten out the mess as soon as possible." LaCroix gave him a withering look. "We?" Larry slunk back a step. "Very well," LaCroix went on. "Go do what you must." Larry ran to the nearest ATM and accessed LaCroix savings account with the code he'd been given. The balance was just two dollars. Turning a bit pale he checked savings, money market, cds, all two dollars. Sweating he pulled up his own account. Same thing. "LaCroix isn't going to like this." He headed back to the apartment to report his findings. --------------- ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Sat, 16 Jul 1994 06:36:45 -0500 From: TMP_HARKINS@DIRAC.PHYSICS.JMU.EDU Subject: FKWARSII--Stealing the Abarat July 8, 1994, early evening LaCroix put his arm around Lisa's shoulders. They were alone--Larry still off trying to straighten out LaCroix's finances while Alexandra--well, she was so understandably irritated he finally had to send her away. He smiled. "Lisa, your--devotion--to your brother is admirable. But he seems very sensible to me." "He's not sensible when he's around dingbat bimbos like Alexandra." "Ah, well, we all must have our little amusements." He smiled again. "With Larry, I can understand. But you--" She stopped speaking abruptly. LaCroix released her and walked away from her a few steps. Then he turned and said, "We all have our...desires and vices." Lisa didn't say anything so after a slight pause, LaCroix continued, "But loyalty such as yours for your brother is rare. I value loyalty and I _always_ reward it." Lisa still said nothing. "So because I understand your feelings of loyalty toward Larry and concern for his welfare, I am willing to overlook your--impetuousness--this time." "My impetuousness?" "You meant to cure your brother with the spell, didn't you." Lisa's gaze didn't waver. "Yes," she said. He studied her intently. "That is why I will overlook your impetuousness. What we feel for...family...sometimes clouds our reason." He smiled again. "You're as clever as your brother--more clever. I wasn't aware that you read Sanskrit." "I don't. Larry came up with a program to translate it." "Did he? Well, I'll have to read it when I get time." He poured he and Lisa some wine. ------- Later, after Lisa had finally decided to slumber, LaCroix retrieved her laptop. He turned it on and began to scan the trans- lated version of the Abarat. 'What a useful book!' he thought. 'And dangerous.' Perhaps it _would_ be better _not_ to leave the original in an accessible place. Just on the off chance that Nicholas might be able to retrieve it. And this copy? LaCroix smiled. He would allow Alexandra her revenge on Lisa. But before then... LaCroix hooked up the laptop to his own computer and began to make a copy of the Abarat on disk. [end of part 1/2]---------------------------------------------------------- --Sandra Gray --tmp_harkins@dirac.physics.jmu.edu ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Fri, 8 Jul 1994 15:55:40 -0400 From: Ivy Reisner Subject: FK Wars 2: A new neighbor The nice advantage of coming into this thing so late is that no one knows what I look like. Ivy grinned. Or my name. A heavy bribe, taken from the misplaced monies from LaCroix accounts served as a nice bribe and now she strode down the hall on the twelfth floor, to stop right under LaCroix own abode. Hands shaking she inserted the key in the lock. It was dingy, she didn't give the super time to fix the place up, and it smelled a little musty, but it would serve her purposes. She set up her computer and her directional mike, the latter of which she attached to a tape player. Hushed voices could be heard speaking clearly above, but no LaCroix, not yet, it was still daylight hours. She logged onto her account and sent a message to the knighties. Knighties, Espionage situation. Information tape available. Give me a drop point or I give it to a ravenette I know will put it to good use. -- Ivy Wistfully she thought of that note inviting her to the ravenettes. She sighed, if the knighties did not want to work with her (and she couldn't blame them -- her actions were highly illegal) she may yet find herself at the Raven. One word from the tape caught her attention -- Arabat. She could hardly wait for this hour to finish so she could listen to it in full and get the context. She stared at the small speaker in rapt attention. ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Fri, 8 Jul 1994 16:21:54 -0400 From: Ivy Reisner Subject: FK Wars 2: A Message to all Knighties re : bookworm Ivy listened to the tape twice unbelieving. The knighties had to know. Nick had to know. She hastily typed out a message and cced the knighties. Nick, The Arafat is not only not destroyed but it has been unearthed and it is in the hands of the cousins. Seeking more information. Awaiting feedback. Will move if exact location disclosed. More to come. -- Ivy ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Fri, 8 Jul 1994 16:59:28 -0400 From: Ivy Reisner Subject: FK Wars 2 : a message to nick and knighties re new info Ivy sat down at her computer, calmer now and reissued her message from before, again sending a copy to all the knighties. Nick, The abarat is safe, not in the hands of the cousins, but I'm not sure where. It has something to do with pornography though, that's all I can tell you, and it can't be anywhere too public obviously. The cousins and LaCroix do know where it is however. I'll see what I can turn up. -- Ivy ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Fri, 8 Jul 1994 14:28:47 -0600 From: John Dencoff Subject: FKWar2: Ex-Cousin John pays the price NOTE: One of the FOSsils apparently attacked someone else and stole their laptop and laundry bags--because Nick's laptop had previously been seen in Brian Gestrel's apartment, not my house. Since I live in a house and not an apartment myself, the FOSsil must have broken into the some other person's apartment... * * * John hobbled up to the door, barely able to breathe. Exhausted and afraid for his life, his breath now came in ragged gasps. Only a few more feet...but his world went topsy-turvy in that sudden moment, as dizziness from lack of blood finally overcame him. His hand went reflexively to his neck, touching the tiny puncture wounds LaCroix had given him. There was no way he could get to Sharon now, and it looked bad now to go this route. He fell just inches short of the door that led to Nick's loft, his computer equipment and disks clattering around him in disarray. Too late, he thought...LaCroix had drained him and left him to die for his betrayal. His escape was for nothing...he was doomed to die here, and Nick would never know about Janette or LaCroix's plans. At least he'd brought the disks. Nick would at least find those he hoped. Then his world went black. Nick pulled the door open, thinking that something had crashed into the front door. At his feet, sprawled over disks and computer parts, lay Cousin John. Shocked, he pulled the LaCroixian inside, gathering up the strewn equipment as well. John was very near death, attacked by a vampire...perhaps he had outlived his usefulness to LaCroix? There was little to do but wait, make John comfortable, and see what happened. Either John would die and perhaps cross over, in which case he might have to kill the young man, or time and the little remaining blood would give him the strength to pull through. But it looked bad. "Unfortunate," Nick whispered under his breath. "You could have told me a great deal." * * * EX-Cousin John Emperor of Harpsichords jdencoff@polaris.unm.edu ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Fri, 8 Jul 1994 17:07:37 -0400 From: Ivy Reisner Subject: FK Wars 2: John needs a doctor Ivy gave up waiting and begging her computer to give her a message from Nick or some other knightie. This was too dangerous. They had to hear the tape. Resolved she packed a six hour monster tape onto the machine with another six hours for backup (and she knew she'd need someone to help her go through it all) and headed for Nick's loft. There were spots of blood on the floor near his front door. *Careless spilling your food*. She knocked on the door. Nick answered after a bit. He looked sleepy but gorgeous as always. She thrust the tape into his hand "you don't read your posts." she told him. "Who are you?" he asked. "I've been trying to reach you. This tape contains some information on the Abarat. I don't know the voice. I thought maybe you would." "Come on in." He led her to the living room. A very pale man lay on the leather couch. "What happened to him?" Ivy knelt by his side. "I don't know. I found him passed out outside. He was one of LaCroix's but it looks like he's been bitten. I ... don't know if he'll pull through. I guess he ... outlived his usefulness." "Bit? Get Natalie down here. What he needs is a transfusion and now. Nick, how did you think he would survive without blood. Oh, never mind. She picked up the phone and hit the speeddial button with Natalie's name on it. Two rings then "Dr. Lambert." "This is a medical emergency. We have a patient in need of a blood transfusion (and not to drink) Nick's loft. You know the address." She hung up and knelt by the man's side. She took his pale, weak hand in hers and squeezed it reassuringly, "you'll be okay." she told him. ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Fri, 8 Jul 1994 14:27:22 -0800 From: EMPRESS OF CELERY AND KEEPER OF THE MACCS GATEWAY Subject: FK Wars 2 : Bay Area Party PARTY! Join me for a tea party at Filoli gardens! When : This weekend, Sunday, July 10. Where : Filoli Gardens, Woodside, West Bay, San Francisco Peninsula, CA. Time : Be at my place at 9:30, A.M! You can follow me to The Gardens. If you don't make it to my place in time, this Sunday is open tour day at FILOLI. You pay $8 at the gate per person. This covers the cost the keg\\\\upkeep of the grounds. Go to the Tea Shop and ask for Barb. Events : Gardens open for self guided tour. House open for docent led 'quick' tour. Rose garden in full bloom. Knot garden in full bloom, lots of lavender, bees. English style floral walkway in full bloom. Hidden Hydrangea garden in full bloom. Antique roses walkway in bloom. Kitchen Garden in bloom. Includes giant cabbages, flowering garlic. Directions : From the east Bay, take the San Mateo Bridge west. Follow 92 to just before the hwy to Half Moon Bay. If you end up in Half Moon Bay, you've gone too far. Go south from 92 to 280. Take hwy 280 to Edgewood Road exit, and turn west ( towards the hills ). Take Edgewood Road to Canada Road, and go north until you see the tiny sign for FILOLI. Take the private drive west into the estate. ----------------------------------------------------------------- --------- "Whew", said Barb. "Guess that's all I can do for THIS FK war!" She thought for a moment. "It'll do them all good to get their silly minds off all those alliances for a while. Hum, I wonder just how many postings have there been, anyhow???" She quickly started to check her mailbox, then just as quickly closed it. "Hey, if you have to ask, you can't afford to find out. Ha ha ha! Just like FILOLI. If you have to ask 'How much did all this cost to build?', then you can't afford it. Ha ha ha. <*sigh*> Which explains why I just hang out there as a volunteer." Barb glanced over at her growing pile of work assignments. She thought a moment more. "Oh, yes, a disclaimer!" Quickly added to her posting : ----------------------------------------------------------------- --------- Please note : FILOLI is a property of the National Trust. It's name is used here without permission, but it IS open this Sunday!!! The following attractions are available : FOSsils : lots of mice in gardens. Ravenettes : Ravens frequently spotted on grounds ( usually being attacked by smaller birds )( TRUE! ) NATpackers : many scenic and romantic garden spots. *Sigh!* FoEs : Tragic history of original owners. Knights/Knighties : extensive mansion including large cellar, dormer attic, and mammoth living area rooms with heavily curtained windows. FoDs and Die-Hards : available in the tea house : Sandwiches : turkey, chicken, roastbeef, veggie Cookies : chocolate dipped peanut butter, plain chocolate chip, macadamia nut with white chocolate chips all dipped in white chocolate. Muffins : poppyseed, banana apple, blueberry and cranberry. Biscotti : hazelnut, chocolate chip, anise seed. Drinks : Sun tea, lemon sweetened tea, plain ice tea, lemonade. Biscotti : chocolate chip, anise seed, hazel nut. ----------------------------------------------------------------- --------- "Well, that should cover it all," Barb said thoughtfully. "No, wait! Just one more thing." Merrily she added : ----------------------------------------------------------------- --------- Cousins : lots of clear sky and brilliant Californian SUN! ----------------------------------------------------------------- ------------ Date: Fri, 8 Jul 1994 18:55:31 EDT From: SelmaMc@AOL.COM Subject: FK Wars 2: A way to spend a weekend Fri, 3:43 pm Selma read the invitation in delight. "Perfect!" she said. To: BARB@MDLI.COM From: selmamc@aol.com Subj: Tea Party Great! I'll come if I can find a ride. Know anyone who can carpool from Sacramento? I would love to get out of Sacramento. However, I am _not_ going to Toronto. Guess I'll be departing the war soon. Selma * + * . * Selma McCrory selmamc@aol.com . . * * . --------------- This was just what Selma needed. She loved tea parties, and she really wanted to meet Barb. Besides, she was not used to running around the country, and her mom was getting awfully upset at her. Let others do the fighting. to be continued... ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Fri, 8 Jul 1994 19:01:51 -0400 From: Ivy Reisner Subject: FK Wars 2: John Comes Across Natalie infused three pints of blood into John. Still his vitals weakened and his skin grew pale and rubbery. "It's no good," she told Nick. "We're loosing him." "Turn him," Ivy said. "What?" Natalie looked shocked. "I can't do that," Nick said. "Either you do or he'll be LaCroix's by default if he does come across." "I'm not sure he won't be even if I do. LaCroix is the one who initiated this." He looked down at John mournfully. "We lost him." Natalie let go of his wrist. "No." Nick shook his head. "No. He's ... one of us now." "The choices lie with him now." Ivy gathered the disks. "I'm ... gonna see what's on this." She tried to swallow back the tears that threatened but they came back anyway. Natalie put a hand on her shoulder. "We'll bring him back, like we will Nick." Natalie said, but the catch in her voice betrayed her. "Oh um, that's why I'm here ... The Abarat, the cousins know where it is, I just gave Nick a tape of the conversation. Hope it helps." "It should." Natalie looked back regretfully at John, his chest now lightly rising and falling. Ivy walked into the kitchen to pack the disks into her tote bag. Just then people began to arrive, and in droves. It looked like most of the war was there. Well it was one way to make contacts she supposed. She set to making h'our d'orves in the kitchen with the food she'd sent over. The conversation was well under way by the time she walked into the living room. ------- ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Tue, 12 Jul 1994 14:27:18 -0800 From: "S. Tanaquil Johnson" Subject: FKWars2: Enemy Territory [part 1 of 2] Enemy Territory Tanaquil gazed with some satisfaction at her reflection in the scruffy motel room mirror. She should never have risked going by the Raven as soon as she'd arrived, sans disguise, but curiosity had been too strong. As it turned out, the timing had been fortuitous. She had practically been cannoned down by a frantic, garlic-stricken vampiress and had been able to pass for an anonymous Good Samaritan, driving Janette to the address that she had gasped out. No one had even noticed her surreptitious phone call to Valerie. Janette had been too sick to question her claim that someone named Alma had suggested Nick's place, although under ordinary circumstances any pretense that Alma had been responsible for anything resembling a sensible suggestion would have raised Janette's suspicions at once. She had slipped away quietly soon after Valerie arrived. They had all been too intent on getting some sort of information out of the two of the most uncooperative vampires in North America to notice. At least now she knew what one of her allies looked like, and vice versa. She didn't think Janette had looked twice at her unknown benefactor; she had been too miserable, and was too much in the habit of discounting mortals. Even if she had, Tanaquil very much doubted that Janette would recognize her. Tanaquil hated long flights, and it showed. Last night Janette had seen a slight, insignificant-looking graduate student wearing baggy trousers, an outsized Irish sweater and scuffed boots, dark hair pinned up all anyhow in an untidy bun, with the general air of one who has just noticed that the world exists and wonders why it had to go and wake her up. The woman looking back from the mirror was wearing one of those ghastly pseudo-seventies outfits, flared silk trousers and a (barely decent) halter top with even more flared long sleeves falling well past the wrists, all in the requisite black. The effect was completed the most hideous pair of platform shoes Tanaquil had ever seen in any Berkeley overpriced retro used-clothing dive: black velvet, with some sort of silver trimmings, and perfectly clear *plastic* platforms which seemed to have something which reflected flashes of color embedded in them. Every finger was weighed down with oversized rings. Tanaquil particularly liked the hot pink plastic one on her right thumb and the dolphin-shaped silver one with a fake ruby the size of a pigeon's egg on the third finger of her left hand. Her right ear had been pierced twice, the left one three times; in both she wore various exotic African-style earrings which had been made in Taiwan. She almost regretted that she had never had the nerve to pierce her nose. Almost. In all other respects Judy's annual Sleaze Queen costume parties had turned out to be a godsend. The rest of the disguise had required spending quite some time in a beauty shop. Tanaquil's hair was now jet-black with startling streaks of plum, and elaborately swept up in a style that she would never be able to recreate in this incarnation. Glumly, she foresaw a lot of afternoons spent catching up on beauty parlor gossip. She wondered if one could at least catch General Hospital on Toronto TV. Her silk-wrapped fingernails had been painted a shade which rejoiced in the name of Garnet Red, and looked exactly the color of blood in low light. Heavy powder and dark plum lipstick had done wonders for her normally healthy complexion. She looked like the victim of an inexperienced makeup artist in a funeral parlor. The real challenge, once she found a niche at the Raven, would be to move as little as possible so that no one would notice that Tanaquil's idea of walking in high heels bore a startling resemblance to the gait of a pigeon which had lost several of its toes to some hideous urban accident or disease. She had the feeling that it might sully her image. [end of part 1 of 2]----------------------------------------------------- S. Tanaquil Johnson ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Fri, 8 Jul 1994 14:11:42 18000 From: Valerie Meachum Subject: FKWars2: The Summit Finally! The dailies were run, the year-end summary report was well on its way, and Valerie had a chance to check in on the war. Her timing, as usual, bit rocks; there was no time for all that needed done today! Just as she logged into her e-mail, her phone gave its peculiar chirp. "Development, this is Valerie." A hushed, unfamiliar voice spoke at the other end. "It's Tanaquil. Somebody really nailed Janette. I'm afraid my cover's blown, because everyone else who lives here is sick from the garlic too so I was the only one who could help. She got attacked by a ninja who turned into a black cat, I swear! She's spitting mad, too." "*Wonderful*." A few other choice phrases came to mind, but in this office they were usually reserved for the dinosaur of a database she had inherited with the job. "Well, I'm sure Sharon and Natalie will agree that helping was more a priority than keeping your cover. I'll alert the Ravenettes. You said garlic? Is she okay?" "Getting that way," Tanaquil allowed. "The whole place reeks, though. She'll heal faster when she gets...something to drink, but they contaminated her stock too." "Damndamndamndamn." Of all the...Valerie had an idea who had done this, but that would have to wait. "Can you get her out of there safely? Get her to Nick's place? I was hoping we could powwow at the Raven, but sounds like it'll be pretty inhospitable for some of the folks who need to be there. I'll get the word out to get people there as quickly as possible. Nick's place is probably the best choice. I'd rather make use of the Die-Hard HQ, actually, but I can't guarantee everyone else following their charter, so we'd better keep it away from there for now. I'll get in touch with Sharon and Betsy, see if Betsy can get a Die-Hard rep or two to help mediate." "Do you think we can promise them safe passage?" "Fairly certain. If someone gets other ideas, the rest of us should be able to handle them." "Okay. I'll get the keys to that pinhole camera Janette calls a car and get her out of here. See you soon." "As soon as possible!" A short time, but probably still too long, later, Valerie buzzed at the door to Nick's loft. *If they're going to pull out magic, then we can too,* she thought grumpily, thinking of the Trump of the Raven Jack had made for her at the climax of the last war. Amber gamemasters were pretty handy to have as SO's... "Yeah?" a gruff voice emerged from the intercom. "It's me, Valerie." *The loony who invited half the war to your loft without asking you first*, she added silently; but the door clicked open. Eschewing the elevator, she bolted up the stairs to find Nick, Natalie, a new face who must be Tanaquil, and a very unhappy but seemingly healthy Janette. Three empty green bottles sat on the floor beside Janette's place on the couch, and all four faces turned to Valerie as she dashed in the door. "Who's contacted you?" "We have a few," Nat supplied. "No Laurie; she's trapped by her fractals. And Sharon Himmanen will be delayed because she's just gone to Penn State, and she wants to make sure the three who withdrew really are out before she comes up here." "Check. Who else?" "Sharon Scott and Susan are on the way. , but Susan's working on getting more Ravenettes first." Frowning, Janette interrupted with a nod toward Valerie's big grey T-shirt, the front of which proclaimed *Join the Human Race*. "Propaganda? That should start us off well." "It's for work, Janette; a fundraiser I'm involved in on Sunday." Valerie turned around to show her the BalletMet logo among those of several sponsors on the back of the shirt. "I'm going to rollerskate 10k in a straw hat and a pink tutu, and I *guarantee* it's no threat to you. Okay?" "No need to get impatient about it," Janette replied airily. "Well, you might as well sit down and collect yourself," Nick put in with a sigh. "The others will be getting here soon enough." "Right. And we can hammer out a plan then. WE're gonna need all the heads we can get together for that. Meanwhile, though . . . Janette, we *have* to know what was in the fax you sent Laurie. I wasn't abe to find out from her before I took off up here." "Then why should I tell you?" Janette countered. "Come on, Janette, I think it's gone a little beyond whatever that little game was," Nat told her sharply. "We need all this information out in the open." "Really?" the vampiress returned. "Like just what 'sensitive information' LaCroix got along with the application database?" "That too," Natalie agreed. "Right, Nick?" All eyes turned to their host, sinking into his armchair and a near-visible cloud of gloom. "Yeah. Right." The four women exchanged concerned looks at his attitude, but that too would have to wait. Maybe when Sharon Scott arrived... ---- -- The Bad Penny * Valerie Lynn Meachum ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Tue, 12 Jul 1994 04:29:11 -0500 From: TMP_HARKINS@DIRAC.PHYSICS.JMU.EDU Subject: FKWARSII--At Nick's Summit Meeting, Part I July 8, 1994, early evening Bruce and I stepped into our hotel room. We'd just had dinner, I'd made a call to Mom, and now we were ready for a little rest after our shopping expedition. "Boy, you'd never expect Toronto being so far north would be so _hot_," I said, peeling out of my clothes. "Yeah," said Bruce, also starting to undress. "I'll be glad to get a shower." And, as usual, he beat me to it. Ten minutes later he was finished and I had my turn. When I emerged afterwards in my terry robe, I knew something was up. "What is it?" I asked. "I called Die-Hard Headquarters. They got word there's to be a meeting of various factions at Nick's place tonight." "When?" "They said whenever people could get there." "Are the Cousins going to be there?" "I don't know." "Well, we'd better get dressed then." My heart was fluttering. Soon we'd be at Nick's. It was still a little hard to believe. We dressed. Bruce passed me the cross on a chain he'd bought me earlier today. Not that I thought it would really be of much help, but you never knew. He put on his own cross. I packed our defensive items in my tote bag. Before long, we stood outside Nick's building. It looked just like it did on the show. It was uncanny. We walked up to the door. "Our crosses," I said. "It might make Nick uncomfortable if they're visible." I put my own down inside my shirt. Bruce hid his as well. Then we pressed the buzzer. "Yes?" came an unfamiliar female voice. "I'm Bruce Gray, with the Die-Hards, with my wife, Sandra. We heard there was to be a meeting here." "Oh. Come on up." The door buzzed and Bruce opened it. When we opened the elevator door, it was like looking at the TV set, but from an angle not usually used. There was a group of mostly unfamiliar people in the room, but I did recognize _three_ of them. One was Natalie Lambert. Another was Janette. The third, his expression somewhat haunted and irritated at the same time, was Nick Knight. My pulse started to race. Bruce stepped into the room and said, "Gee. If you guys are real, I wonder how many other TV characters are." People looked at him in some confusion. I felt my face getting red. Bruce walked further into the room and I followed. "I'm Bruce Gray. This is my wife, Sandra." A thin redhead approached us. "Hi. I'm Valerie Meachum." She made the introductions of the others, ending with, "The--man on the couch is John Dencoff." Cousin John? He looked very ill--in fact, he appeared to be unconscious. His skin was very pale. I wondered what had happened to him, but never comfortable around strangers at first, I was afraid to ask. Bruce _never_ had such problems. People were sitting and standing wherever they could. I noticed a vacant dining table chair near the stairs and sat down on it. "You're with the Die-Hards?" asked Valerie. "I am. Sandra's not." "I've--never declared an affiliation," I said, glancing over at Nick, who was sitting in a chair near the couch. He was looking at me and I looked away quickly. I wasn't sure if I wanted to reveal my affiliation yet, either. Bruce pulled up a dining chair and sat down next to me. "We're here to help however we can. But we're, I guess you'd say, 'newbies' to all of this," said Bruce. "I got some information from Die-Hard Headquarters about what's been going on, but could someone tell us why all the groups' mail was here in the first place?" Nick briefly explained. My God! He was even more handsome in person than he was on TV! Almost made me wish I wasn't married. Not that he'd ever be interested in me. I'd been blessed with a thick mane of light red hair (now just shoulder-top length) but was otherwise fairly nondescript and, worse, wore large glasses with rust-tinted plastic frames. Although for some odd reason, people tended to remember me--even if it had been _years_ since they last saw me. I started wondering what sex with a vampire was like instead of paying a lot of attention to what Nick was saying so I was a little startled when Bruce said, "Why didn't each group have its' own mail drop?" --Sandra Gray --tmp_harkins@dirac.physics.jmu.edu ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Fri, 8 Jul 1994 18:47:51 EDT From: Sharon Himmanen Subject: FK Wars 2: A Long Strange Trip Curiosity Kills the Cat? Sharon Himmanen Sharon stood in the center of Cousin Sandye's darkened living room. All was still and silent, signs of the trio's hasty retreat evident from the shambles the room was in. Nothing moved here. Nothing lived here. It had taken most of the day to get here. Flying coach was not without it's problems--she'd had a 3 hour layover in Pittsburgh, and hadn't even managed to get a flight out of Detroit until 12:30 pm. She'd gone to Laurie first. The ex-Cousin had mumbled something about fractals, a t-shirt database and the fact that the cousins across the hall had skipped town all in one breath before tossing the keys to Sandye's apartment in her direction. So, Sharon went across the hall to see what she could find. Which, so far, was nothing except evidence of a hasty and somewhat permanent departure. The sharp knock on the door startled her. For a moment she panicked--she wasn't supposed to be here, even though she had been given a key. It was technically trespassing. But curiosity got the better of her and she softly crossed the room and looked out through the peephole. A UPS worker stood at the door expectantly. Then he knocked again. "Coming!" Sharon said, slipping over to the nearest lamp and switching it on. Might as well be a good samaritan and collect Sandye's package for her. But she didn't want to look suspicious, answering the door in a completely darkened apartment. She signed Sandye's name for the package, thanked the guy and closed the door on his retreating form. It was a big square package addressed to Sandye. And the return address said the FBI! Should she *open* it? It was a federal offense to open someone else's mail, but this was from the FBI! What was Sandye doing getting packages from the Federal Bureau of Investigation? Sharon hefted it in her hands--it was moderately heavy but not excessively so. Then she shook it gently. Nothing moved inside the box. So she stared at it for nearly five minutes. When she couldn't stand it anymore she reached into her pocket and pulled out her Swiss Army Knife to slit the packing tape. That's when the phone rang. The machine would get it, she thought to herself, ignoring the second and third ring. She half listened to Sandye's message, but then the voice that spoke into the machine and what he said sent a shudder through her and riveted her attention to the phone. It was LaCroix. "My dear, why don't you pick up," he said softly, and although his tone was completely civil, the command in it was unmistakable. Sharon barely stopped herself from lifting the receiver in time. There was a long sigh. "I know you're there, and by now you've discovered that my . . . followers have departed." Still she listened. "A good leader *always* knows what his followers are saying, especially when he's not around," LaCroix continued pointedly. Ah, thought Sharon. He has the place bugged. Then she stopped. He has the place bugged! "That's right. I see you're getting it now. I knew one of *her* followers would show up sooner or later and I thought it best to be prepared. Now, I'm getting tired of talking into this machine." No way, Sharon thought to herself, putting distance between herself and the phone. No way I'm falling into this trap! No, best to leave now! She turned for the front door. "Aren't you even the least bit curious as to what I have to say?" he asked smoothly. Damn! That got her! Between the package and LaCroix her curiosity was burning through her. And she realized she didn't have the resolve to keep it down simply to spite LaCroix. The truth was, she *had* to know what he wanted. Just like she *had* to know what was in that package. Patiently he waited for her. And slowly she retraced her steps back to the phone. She reached down and lifted the receiver to her ear. to be continued . . . o-----------------o---------------------------------------------- ---o | Sharon Himmanen | shihc@cunyvm.cuny.edu * romana@aol.com | | Nat Pack | s.himmanen@genie.geis.com | o-----------------o---------------------------------------------- ---o ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Sat, 9 Jul 1994 08:40:59 EDT From: Sharon Himmanen Subject: FK Wars 2: Yes, we have no titles today -------------------------------------------- Late afternoon/early evening July 8th She didn't speak at first, just lifted the receiver and waited. "That's better," he said after a moment. "Why don't you go ahead and open the package," he said. "It *is* for you, after all." "For me?" "Think of it as an olive branch of sorts," he continued. Sharon hit the switch for the speaker phone, then returned the receiver to its cradle and resumed opening the package. She lifted the lid and removed a large piece of packing foam. Nestled comfortably inside was an expensive grey laptop. "Nick's laptop," she said, looking up at the phone. "Intact," LaCroix added, "including the database, Larry Merlin's tiresome security precautions, Nick's tedious personal files that he's trying desperately to avoid talking about . . . and a few hidden files." "Hidden files? Nick doesn't know how to hide files on a computer." "That's right," LaCroix said. "Nick doesn't." "So, who's are they?" She'd get around to asking why he was doing this later. "Who gave Nick the mail? Who talked him into setting up the database?" LaCroix paused. "Who managed to find three occasions when she needed to go over and check it?" Sharon knew even before he finished speaking. "Janette?" "Janette." "But . . . this doesn't make any sense. Why didn't she just put them on her own laptop?" LaCroix chuckled. "I'll admit, this is elaborate, even for Janette. I think I might have to change my mind about her." This definitely didn't make any sense. Maybe if she knew what was in the files she'd-- But LaCroix cut off her train of thought. "I think I've given you enough. You're a smart girl. You can figure it out." He laughed softly. "But I'd hurry if I were you. They're all gathered at Nicholas' dreary loft. *All* of them, including Janette." "Just two more things," Sharon said quickly when she thought he was going to break the connection. He didn't hang up, but there was a chilly silence on the other end of the line. "Please." "I suppose I could spare you another moment or two." "If you knew what Janette was up to, and I presume you did, why'd you go along with it and steal this stuff?" "It amuses me," he said simply. "Then why are you doing this now, telling all this to me?" "It amuses me," he said again. Sharon leaned back on the couch, the laptop in front of her and breathed a small sigh of wonder. LaCroix amused himself by making a lot of people jump through a lot of hoops. And they'd all done it. And she knew she'd jump through a few more before this was finished. "How do I know you're telling the truth?" she asked softly. "You don't really, and I could very well be lying. But you believe me already. And Janette needs to know that she will *always* be transparent to me. Just as you *all* are," LaCroix said, ice and steel creeping into his voice. "I have a question for you." Sharon felt her throat go instantly dry. She tried to swallow over the lump to speak but couldn't. Without thinking she nodded slowly, then immediately felt ridiculous. "I was just wondering, my dear, when you were finally going to give in to your instincts and join me? I've spoken to Laurie--before her defection she filled me in on some of your conversations." "I wouldn't hold my breath," Sharon said with a bit more bravado than she actually felt. She was grateful that her voice didn't waver. "Still," LaCroix said, "I sense that it's only a matter of time. You can only follow Nicholas' precious Natalie for so long before getting bored. I have *so* much more to offer you." She flashed briefly on Natalie's warning to her at the end of their first conversation, the warning about getting in over her head. Well she was way in now and no one was around. "But," LaCroix said, a note of congeniality creeping into his voice. "I can wait." And with that, he broke the connection. She'd worry about this later. A lot later. Sharon immediately dialed the number for Nick's loft and got a busy signal. "Damndamndamndamndamn!" she exclaimed, jumping to her feet and grabbing the laptop. If they were all meeting email wasn't going to do any good--nobody'd be checking. She'd have to send a telegram and then get up to Toronto as fast as possible. ----- ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Fri, 8 Jul 1994 14:41:20 18000 From: Valerie Meachum Subject: FKWars2: Coming Together > > "Nat, look at this!" > > The coroner looked over Valerie's shoulder, where Nan's plaintive > message stood out bright on the monitor. Janette was still pouting, > Nick was still brooding, and the agitated Bad Penny had taken the > brief lull to telnet to her account and see what was up. > > "Well, what do you know," Natalie said, a smile slowly forming. > "Sanity just might be taking hold after all." > > "I'll let her know the Raven is temporarily out of the loop--" this > was punctuated by an indignant noise from Janette "--and that she > should come here instead. I have to be back in Ohio by tomorrow > afternoon for sure because the Battle of Agincourt is being > choreographed, so the more brains we can get together to agree on some > action, the sooner we can get them, the better off we'll be." > > "Agincourt," Nick echoed, grumbling. "The French aced themselves out > of every advantage they had." > > "Which is just what we can't afford to do," Tanaquil put in. > > "And if we play it right," Valerie added with a glance at Janette, > "exactly what LaCroix *will*." > > Janette made no reply. > > -- > The Bad Penny * Valerie Lynn Meachum > > "I fought fire with fire most of my life, and all it got me was > burned." --Bill Miller > -- The Bad Penny * Valerie Lynn Meachum ----------------------------------------------------------------- ---------- Date: Fri, 8 Jul 1994 14:05:40 EDT From: Pamela Rush Subject: A FoDly development 2:30 PM Friday, July 8: University of Kentucky ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----- ABSENCE RECORD FORM NAME: Sherry Lin W. Crabtree DATE(S) ABSENT: July 11, 1994 - July 15, 1994 PURPOSE: (X) Vacation leave ( ) TDL w/pay ( ) Medical leave ( ) Funeral leave ( ) Military leave ( ) Family leave EXPENSES: ( ) Claiming expenses (X) Not claiming expenses Acct#_______________ SIGNATURE: Sherry W. Crabtree DATE: 7/8/94 SUPERVISOR:________________________ DEAN:______________________________ ------------------------------------------------------------------ thought Pamela, picking up the multi-paged Absence Form from her in-basket. she thought, mentally snapping her fingers, which isn't easy, <*next* week is the *tour*! How could I have forgotten that?> She quickly signed her own name under Sherry's on the application for vacation time and tossed it towards the departmental mail basket. Sher would have a good time.... Travel always gave one the opportunity to meet new people, try new restaurants, get thrown out of strange bars.... (to be continued....) ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Fri, 8 Jul 1994 17:48:00 -0700 From: Ava Chan-Crowder Subject: FK War : To Toronto It was Friday, July 8th, nearly 7pm PDT. It had been two days since she had posted to Selma and Sharon that she was ready to take part in the war. And she still hadn't heard from either of them....or anyone for that matter. Grabbing her iced tea, she sat in front of her trusty IBM 486 and powered it up. Hearing the welcoming FK theme, she knew her computer was up and running. After three tries, she finally was able to access her local BBS. Still nothing. "Hmm...I must send a comment to that sysop of mine".....She logged of and exited the communications program. This time, she opened up AOL....after logging on, she was greeted by the "Happy Happy Joy Joy"chorus as sung by Ren and Stimpy....finally, she had email! >To: Nat Pack shihc@cunyvm.cuny.edu, > nlambert@toronto.gov.ca, jmhaye@skcla.monsanto.com> >Cc: Knighties reisner@PANIX.COM, AvaABC123@aol.com> >From: sarajnsn@violet.berkeley.edu >Subject: Update > >Hello all! I'm leaving for Toronto this afternoon. The more >eyes we have at the Raven, the better. Janette has to be the key >to this thing. I may have to lay low over the weekend in order to >work out my best method of approach. I've checked and triple >checked the security on this account; I think it's safe to use again. >I'll be checking in regularly, so let me know of anything useful you >might hear. Does anyone know what the Graces and the FOSSILS >have been up to? > >Hope to be in touch again by Monday, if not before. > >Tanaquil At long last, contact had been made! She saved the post and logged off. Hmm...she had to think...what would her next move be? Sipping her tea, and running her fingers through her hair, she wondered what to do....what to do? With a snap of her fingers, she was logging back onto her account on her local BBS, although it wasn't the quickest, it was certainly the most inexpensive account she had.... -------- To : SelmaMc@aol.com scotts@baylor.edu reisner@PANIX.COM nlambert@toronto.gov.ca jmhaye@skcla.monsanto.com sarajnsn@violet.berkeley.edu Romana@aol.com, >From : ava.chan-crowder@wcoast.cts.com Subject : To Toronto Hi all - Glad to finally hear word. I was beginning to wonder if my services were needed. I will be on a flight to Toronto shortly. I will email you on my arrival in Toronto. As far as information goes : I have heard that the FOSsiLs have shown themselves to a very dangerous organization. I haven't heard any information regarding The Graces. And speaking of information, any word from Brian yet? Is he still locked up? Well, that's all for now, I will be touch after I get settled in Toronto. Take care, ~~~Ava :-) AvaABC123@aol.com ava.chan-crowder@wcoast.cts.com "If we don't stand together, we stand to lose the future." Queensryche -------- She sent the email, logged off , and sat back. Looking up at the clock, it was nearly 7:30 pm PDT...she had a few more things to do around the house before she needed to get to the airport. It was nearly 9pm, and the taxi hadn't arrived. Where was he? She had ordered the Yellow Cab 20 minutes earlier. A few minutes later, a white Jetta drove up. It was her neighbor Neal. Ava opened her front door. "Hi Neal." "Hi Ava. How are you?" "Just fine. Neal, can I ask you to do a favor for me?" "Sure, no problem. What is it?" "Can you take me to the airport?" "Sure. It is the least that I can do. After all, you did take in my mail when I was gone on vacation two weeks ago. When do you want to go?" Neal unlocked his front door. "Right now." He looked at his neighbor...she had a determined look on her face and he knew better than to question her. "Okay. Grab your stuff." Ava popped back into her apartment, grabbed her backpack, duffle bag, and the laptop she had purchased just before unemployment had set in. Within 15 minutes Neal had dropped her off at Lindbergh Field. After purchasing her ticket for the red-eye, Ava sat in the terminal and waited. A short time later, the final boarding call was announced and Ava was ready for her adventure to begin. ---- ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Fri, 8 Jul 1994 23:41:08 EDT From: Panstygia@AOL.COM Subject: FK Wars II - SideTrip To Hell Nan slipped out of her seedy hotel room, her laptop slung over her shoulder in it's case. She scanned the empty street in both directions before stepping out of the shadow of the doorway and down the sidewalk towards her car. She'd gotten the message from her new friends to meet them at Nicks. Her heart thumped a little faster. She'd always had such a crush on the guy... That, coupled with the reality of her defection made her stomach twist tightly into knots. She reached her car unmolested. Even the feeling of being watched had disappeared and she slid easily into the drivers seat and popped her favorite tape into the tape deck before starting the engine. A little Rick would do a lot to soothe her jagged nerves. Maybe a couple of cuts from "Tao". She started the car and pulled out into traffic, settling back against the street, her left foot already tapping to the rhythm she knew would be coming from the speakers any second now... Oh God. Oh No! That wasn't Rick. Oh no, oh no, oh no. That was....AAAAGGGGHHHHH!!! Andy Gibb! A bright, blinding light flashed in front of her and she yanked on the wheel just in time to avoid a collision with another car. Somehow she'd veered into the other lane. She clutched the wheel and tried to direct the car onto the proper side of the road. Her stomach was churning and she could feel the itchy, burning hives pop up along her arms and legs. Any second now she was going to lose it, get sick all over the dash. She had to....get the ... tape...out... The car speakers droned on... "Ah, ah, ah, ah, stayin' alive, stayin' alive..." Nan slammed on the breaks and reached blindly for the tape deck, pressing frantically with her fingers to eject the tape. Finally, the was silence. She jammed the car into park and collapsed forward, letting her head rest against the steering wheel. Who could have done this? Had Janette somehow found out? No. She was clever, but nan had been careful never to show the woman any vulnerability. But if not Janette, then who? She sat back against the seat, wiped the sweat from her forehead. Who on earth knew about her.... problem... with disco? And then it hit her. Her long-time "friend", her once boon companion. "Cousin" Tokaara. Nan's lips compressed into a grim smile. Well, if that was how the game was to be played, then there was only one thing to do. After the summit at Nick's, after she'd learned how best she could be of help, she'd have to run a little errand of her own. She'd fix Tok. Fix her for good... Panstygia Discobane ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Sat, 9 Jul 1994 01:49:11 -0500 From: "Sharon S. Scott" Subject: FK War II: The Summit Jeez, it's a long drive from Waco to Toronto. I almost went to sleep at the wheel a couple of times in the lonesome wastes of North Texas & Oklahoma. Turned Sting up louder and louder, passed every 18-wheeler on the interstate, and hoped I didn't get stopped by the highway patrol. No laptop, and no way to connect to the net from a moving pickup, so I was in the dark about what was going on at the summit. But I had to get there. The last messages I had seen before I left were, well, I'm not easily frightened, but this thing seemed to be out of control. The Emperor had become an ex-cousin--he might or might be brought across--the Abarat had been found--the Raven had been attacked by garlic bombs--cats were running rampant--Sandye, Monica, & Dennis had disappeared--Laurie had gone into seclusion in State College, Pennsylvania--half of North America was converging on Toronto. What the blazes was going on? I've got to get there. I've got an idea of what LaCroix is really up to. Why would he care about Nick's database? Lists of names and addresses and affiliations? What use could it possibly be to him? He had to have stolen the database for some reason other than the nuisance factor. He has a hidden agenda. And I think I know what it is. ---------------------------------------- On the road again, Sharon S. scotts@baylor.edu ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Fri, 8 Jul 1994 20:22:22 -0500 From: Betsy Vera Subject: Another long night's drive Friday, July 8, 8:18 pm Betsy had spent several hours at her desk ignoring the work she should've been doing, going through the motions whenever her boss came near. Jeffrey's a nice guy and all, but even he would've noticed that she had spent most of the day reading--and trying not to fall asleep over--the thick Die-Hard Charter. Hadn't the Die-Hards ever heard that brevity is the soul of something-or-other? By the time she had slogged through the legalese, stopping occasionally to do pretend-work and to rue the day she had ever let Sharon talk her into this mission, it was quitting time. She turned on the computer, ready to get in touch with the Die-Hards. "Great! Just bloody great!" MTS was down, and nothing was coming in or going out. She couldn't wait. She was itching for some action, especially after the incredibly boring day she'd just had. If she could only get to the center of things, where the *fun* stuff was happening. "Well, of course, you fool!" She smacked her hand on her forehead. Nick, the Raven, and LaCroix all lived (so to speak) in Toronto, so that's where the action was bound to be sooner or later. And Toronto was only a four-hour drive away. Good thing she'd just had the car's air-conditioning fixed (her wallet was going to be hurting for a long time over that one). Once again, it was 92 and muggy. After dropping Ace off at her sister's (Betsy's sister, not Ace's :-) ) and packing a sleeping bag and some food, she set off eastward. Towards adventure. ------------------------------------------ betsy.vera@mailgw.uprod.music.umich.edu ----------------------------------------------------------------- ---------- Date: Fri, 15 Jul 1994 19:25:12 -0500 From: TMP_HARKINS@DIRAC.PHYSICS.JMU.EDU Subject: FKWARSII--At Nick's Summit Meeting, Part II "Why didn't each group have its own mail drop?" asked Bruce. "You know, I don't know," said Nick. Bruce hesitated a moment, then said, "Well, we were at the Die-Hard Headquarters this morning and have checked back with them throughout the day. Are any of the rest of you with the Die-Hards?" No one spoke up and most people shook their heads no when Bruce looked around the room. "I know some of you--Natalie Lambert, Nick Knight, Janette? (his voice hesitated a bit on the vampires' names)--have received a copy of the Die-Hard Charter?" His question made an impact on my fog and I started to pay attention to the conversation. "I did. And I read it," said Natalie. Janette said sullenly, "I haven't seen one." Nick just sat in his chair with a thoughtful faraway expression on his face. Afraid of being distracted again, I looked at Bruce. But it wasn't easy to forget I was actually in the same room with Nick Knight! I focused on the conversation again. "Well, since I am the only representative of the Die-Hards here, I guess I should state a few of our positions. The Die-Hard Headquarters is located at the St. George Residence next to the University of Toronto. (He gave the address.) We will offer our location for mediating an end to these conflicts--that is, unless something's decided here, of course--but it is _neutral_ ground. That means that no group meeting there will be allowed to try and recruit anyone else there to their sides. Also, should _anyone_ desire sanctuary for _any_ reason, the St. George is available for that. We're well defended against attacks, believe me. We even have aerial laser defenses." Janette raised an eyebrow at that remark and Nick--well, he looked like he was paying attention now too. "If anyone doesn't have access to one and wants to see a copy of the full Die-Hard Charter, just call Headquarters and I'm sure someone can let you see one. I think those are the main points I needed to get across." "Thank you, Bruce," said Valerie after a moment. "So...what actions have you been contemplating?" asked Bruce. "Well, we were just discussing laying out our cards on the table," said Valerie. "I think Janette should tell us what was in the fax she sent to Laurie and Nick needs to tell us what sort of 'sensitive information' was on his stolen database." Everyone looked at the two vampires. Janette pursed her lips, but said nothing. Nick sighed and opened his mouth. He was interrupted by the sound of his door buzzer. He got up and answered it. "Hi! I'm Nan. I was told to come here," came a voice over the intercom. Nick let her in. Natalie walked over to shake the newcomer's hand. > "Nan. It's a pleasure to meet you. Come in, you're among friends." > Nan smiled tentatively. "Thanks. You don't know how good it is >to hear that. > Nan turned to face Valerie, smiled a greeting. "As I said in my >post, whatever you need, just ask." She took a seat on the floor >near the fireplace. Nick was still standing. He ran a hand through his hair and said, >"Okay, folks. Here's what we're up against..." The door buzzer sounded again! Nick answered it and then reappeared holding a telegram. > "It's from Sharon of the Nat Pack." he said. "Have your laptop. >All for LaCroix's amusement. On my way." > "Have your laptop?" Natalie echoed. "But that's already been >recovered." > "I know." Nick glanced longingly towards his refrigerator. >"What she has is a trap." > Natalie's eyes flashed. "But what could LaCroix want with her? >And what will he do to here?" > Nick just shook his head. "She's in trouble." Sharon Himmanen was in trouble with LaCroix? I looked over at "Cousin" John, still lying unconscious on the couch. Perhaps he'd had a run in with LaCroix as well? And come here for sanctuary? I hoped he was going to be all right. But surely, if he was in some great physical danger, they would have put him in the hospital. "Why don't we form a group to go steal the mail and LaCroix's database from LaCroix?" I said. Everyone looked at me in some shock. "Well, since he's after Sharon Himmanen, how long will it be before he goes after others? _She's_ not even a Knightie." I looked at Nick. "That's too dangerous for any mortals to contemplate doing." I was disappointed and confused. It was like him, I guessed, to want to protect mortals from LaCroix, but was he hinting he would do such a thing alone? I didn't think _that_ was a good idea, unless he had some other vampire or vampires to aid him. I looked at Janette, but she was watching Nick with almost a smirking expression. Why were we all here then, I wondered, if we weren't going to be allowed to help? Ivy popped out of the kitchen again and said, "There's food made up in the kitchen if anyone wants some." The others seemed to accept Nick's statement as the final word on the subject since no one else said anything more about it. Even Bruce wasn't interested, leaning over to whisper, "Are you crazy or something? We should be trying to help mediate an end to this conflict, not escalate it." "I _was_ trying to end it," I hissed back in a whisper. "If LaCroix doesn't have the information, how can he make use of it? Besides, _I'm_ not a Die-Hard." "Why don't you tell them what you are?" he whispered. I glanced over at Nick again. He was frowning at me. I looked over at Janette, who was watching me. Damn these vampires and their hearing! I said nothing more. Cousin John started to stir on the couch and opened his eyes. He looked a bit dazed as he slowly sat up. Some people had wandered out to the kitchen for a snack and came back. Nick was wandering around, looking a bit unsure about what to do--not to mention a bit frazzled, whether from the situation, the people, or--hunger, I couldn't tell. Maybe it was all three. The phone rang. Nick answered it with, "Nick Knight speaking." He listened a few moments, then said, > "As a matter of fact, she is. Who is this?" He listened again, >then said, "Janette, a friend of yours." She got up and walked over to the phone. > "Who are you? What do you want?" She sounded suspicious and a >little weak. There was a pause as she listened, then she said, >"No, no, no! I've heard about you, Betsy. You don't know where >your loyalties lie. I cannot have someone who is not sure of her >heart here with me!" There was more silence, then she said, >"All right. You can start by sweeping up that mess at the Raven." Her voice dropped some so I didn't catch all of her instructions. Finally she ended with, > "Call me here again when it is clean and *all* of the smell is >gone." She hung up the phone and resumed her seat in one of the black leather chairs. "Since we should be laying our cards on the table, I should tell you what I've found out," said Ivy. "I set up some sound surveillance equipment in the apartment under LaCroix's." "Where was that?" I asked. She hesitated. Then she gave the address. "This evening before I came here, I heard an interesting conversation. The Cousins have the Abarat. It's not destroyed." Everyone looked at Nick. "We don't need to be concerned with the Abarat now," he said, although his expression was wistful. "Well, I brought the tape so you could listen to it, see if you could identify the speakers." "Maybe we should all hear it," said Natalie. She ignored the glare Nick gave her. Ivy brought out the tape and we all listened to it. "It's Lisa McDavid," said Natalie. "She _knows_ where the Abarat is?" "She's a librarian," said Valerie. "She should be good at tracking down books." She paused, then said, "I wonder if the Abarat itself is in some library." No one said anything to that. "Maybe we should form a group and try to find Lisa." "But she's a Cousin and with LaCroix," said Ivy. "Maybe we can corner her when she's not with him." "Look, I don't mean to interrupt here, but how is finding this 'Abarat' going to end the Wars?" said Bruce. "That is, I know it\s of interest to you, Mr. Knight--" "Nick." Bruce hesitated. "Nick. But this whole thing started because of stolen mail. This Abarat stuff--oh, nevermind. If you all want to try and find it, well--" Valerie hesitated, then said, "You may have a point, Bruce. Perhaps, though, there's some way to accomplish _both_ aims?--ending the Wars _and_ retrieving the Abarat. Suggestions, anyone?" There was some conversation back and forth among various people. Nick and Janette were noncommittal when asked their opinions and the frustration level in the room was growing. Near midnight, Janette got up with her purse and announced, "I'm going upstairs to powder my nose." Nick gave her an odd expression as she walked upstairs. The door buzzer rang. Nick walked over, punched the button, and said, > "Yeah, who is it and what do you want?" > "Um, it's me--Sharon--the one from Texas. Remember me?" > "You're late. Come on up." When the elevator opened, a woman clad in a frog ballerina T- shirt stepped into the room. She looked around in a bemused way-- much the same way I imagined _I_ probably had looked around when I'd entered for the first time. She said, > "Sorry I'm late. I got here as soon as I could." She looked >down at her shirt and said, "Hey, I know it's weird, but it was a >gift. And the information on it came in handy. And I was in a big >hurry, and I forgot to take it off." She smiled. "And, as a matter >of fact, I've gotten kind of fond of it." She paused and added, >"So, what in Sam Hill's going on here?" (to be continued) --Sandra Gray --tmp_harkins@dirac.physics.jmu.edu ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Sat, 9 Jul 1994 00:47:19 EDT From: Panstygia@AOL.COM Subject: FKWAR2- Safe Haven ---- SAFE HAVEN --- Nan entered Nick's loft apartment and stared around her at the many faces. She'd heard of them all, read their messages on the net. It was a little awe-inspiring. Natalie was the first to greet her. She came over and took Nan's hand, which was damp with perspiration. Besides that, she was still shaking a little from her ordeal in the car. But Natalie was all charm. "Nan. It's a pleasure to meet you. Come in, you're among friends." Nan smiled tentatively. "Thanks. You don't know how good it is to hear that." Whatever kind of relationship she'd had with Janette, she'd never have used the word friendship to describe it. Nan turned to face Valerie, smiled a greeting. "As I said in my post, whatever you need, just ask." She took a seat on the floor near the fireplace and awaited her instructions. The group was definitely gearing up for action, and the air crackled with a sense of polarization. Nick took the floor, and a hush fell over the crowd. "Okay, folks. Here's what we're up against..." Panstygia@aol.com ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Sat, 16 Jul 1994 06:36:45 -0500 From: TMP_HARKINS@DIRAC.PHYSICS.JMU.EDU Subject: FKWARSII--Stealing the Abarat [part 2/2]---------------------- July 8, 1994, early evening [NOTE: EARLIER ON LC COPIED LISA'S SOFTCOPY ONTO A LAPTOP] Still later, LaCroix touched down in the lawn outside the Thomas Fisher Rare Book Library. In the moonlight the gray concrete building resembled some ghostly geometric turkey in silhouette. The revolving front doors were locked (besides, they probably had an alarm) and the place was dark inside. He looked for another way in and soon found one which he thought would be unlikely to be connected to an alarm: a window too high to reach without a _very_ long ladder. Once inside, LaCroix dropped down through the open plan of the place to the floor. He didn't need any light to locate the computer catalog system. He sat and called up the information on the "pornographic" _Dracula_ that he had donated. He looked around the octagonal room at the book-filled balconies that lined the walls--six stories of them. He scanned the signs on each one until he finally found the one he wanted. He finally saw the right section and flew up and over the wood railing of the balcony. Soon he found the book he wanted. He picked it up and briefly wondered if he should have brought the _real_ "pornographic" _Dracula_ to leave in its place. "They don't deserve it," he whispered. Book in hand, LaCroix made his exit, flying back to his apart- ment. He entered through his bedroom window. LaCroix looked at the Abarat. Now that he had Lisa's (and Larry's) translation--well, there was no reason it shouldn't suffer the original fate to which Nicholas had believed it had fallen. He placed the book in a metal trash can and flew to the roof of the building. And there consigned the Abarat to flames. --Sandra Gray --tmp_harkins@dirac.physics.jmu.edu ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Sat, 9 Jul 1994 07:56:49 -0400 From: Elizabeth A Scroggs Subject: FKWARS2: Lurker's Lament Lurker's Lament Betsy Scroggs, finding the Raven empty and smelly, looked around for the nearest telephone. After finding Nick Knight's phone number from the police station, she dialed it, hoping that would be where Janette was. "Nick Knight speaking." "Detective Knight, is by any chance Janette there with you?" "As a matter of fact, she is. Who is this?" "Um, a friend of hers." At least, she hoped she was a friend. After a few moments Janette came to the phone. "Who are you? What do you want?" She sounded suspicious and a little weak. "Janette, it is an honor to talk to you. I've never sent an application or anything, but I would like to help you. My name is Betsy..." "No, no, no! I've heard about you, Betsy. You don't know where your loyalties lie! I cannot have someone who is not sure of her heart here with me!" "But no, Janette, I'm not her! I'm a different Betsy. I've been around for a long time, just not out in the open. I've been lurking, watching what everyone else has been doing before acting on my own. I've come all the way to Toronto to help you in this war however I can." Betsy hoped the truth showed in her voice. "All right. You can start by sweeping up that mess at the Raven. We had a bit of a mishap with a cat. I am afraid I cannot trust you with any important task yet, there have been too many betrayals and broken loyalties lately. I do appreciate your presence here. War or no war, I still have a business to run. I just hope my clientele will come back after what happened. Call me here again when it is clean and *all* of the smell is gone." Betsy spent the next few hours cleaning up broken glass and bits of garlic and cat hair. By morning, all she wanted to do was take a bath and try to soak away the dizzying garlic smell. --- Dear Windy, I made it to Toronto. The war is not as exciting as I thought it would be. Last night I was the best dressed janitor in Canada. But at least it's something. I shouldn't have lurked so long. I feel like I'm at a great disadvantage. I feel like I know everyone here, and everyone fighting, but none of them know me. And no one will ever want to know me the way I smell. Oh well, I'll manage. I'll keep you posted. Betsy ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Sat, 9 Jul 1994 08:55:56 -0400 From: Ivy Reisner Subject: FK Wars 2: A telegram arrives In the room sat each in his or her place listening expectantly as Nick drew breath to lay his plan before them. The sudden rap on the door startled them all. Nick answered it then reappeared holding a telegram. "It's from Sharon of the Nat Pack." he said. "Have your laptop. All for LaCroix's amusement. On my way." "Have your laptop?" Natalie echoed. "But that's already been recovered." "I know." Nick glanced longingly towards his refrigerator. "What she has is a trap." Natalie's eyes flashed. "But what could LaCroix want with her? And what will he do to her?" Nick just shook his head. "She's in trouble." ----------------------------------------------------------------- ------------ Date: Sat, 9 Jul 1994 11:16:09 EDT From: SusanG2522@AOL.COM Subject: FKWARSII--Is there an echo? IS THERE AN ECHO? Late Evening--July 8th Susan didn't want to look at the clock. She'd just gotten in from doing a final backup on one of the computers at work. But--hey--at least she'd found the 256 color video driver for her computer! Those GIFs looked really nice, now. Not that she cared. She was dead tired, not having eaten since noon. And her refrigerator, as usual, was even more empty than Nick's. "Damn, forgot to buy food again," she muttered, as Diego wandered by, giving her a 'God, are you finally home? Well, don't bother walking me because I peed in the living room' look. That's when the phone rang. Susan picked up the portable, then opened the refrigerator again, hoping against hope something edible had grown since her last look inside. "Hello?" "Where have you been?" Susan closed the refrigerator door and leaned against it. "What?" There was an odd quality to the voice. "Who is this?" "Have you forgotten me so soon? Or have your loyalties changed?" It was Janette. Only she could get just the right hint of sarcasm in her tone. "You know me," said Susan. "--I am, and will always be, your faithful Ravenette." She paused. "Where are you calling from--sounds like an echo chamber." "I'm on Nicola's cellular, in the bathroom." "In his loft?" That gave Susan a start. She sat down on one of the kitchen chairs. "That reminds me, I asked the question on the list, but nobody seemed to want to answer it. Since your bodies absorb blood, do you actually have to--?" "Don't be crass!" snarled Janette. "I don't have much time. The others are downstairs." "Others?" "Nicola, his coroner friend, and several of their followers." She sighed. "They've got one of LaCroix's ex-friends as well. The one you tried to bring to our side?" "EX-Cousin John? Is he all right?" "In a matter of speaking. LaCroix found out about his possible defection. He's definitely one of the blood, now. Such a shame--Alma rather took a fancy to him during that last war's meeting at the Raven." Susan nodded, remembering how Janette had chased Alma away. "Too bad. If you've gotta go, at least have a good time on the trip." "Yes. Which is why I'm calling. Why aren't you ?" "I have to work for a living. Fiction and fan mail is all well and good, but we mortals need cold hard cash to put food in our . . . refrigerators. When we remember to shop," Susan added mournfully, wondering if Mickey D's had extended their hours for the summer crowd yet. "I'm supposed to work on Vicki's PC tomorrow and--" "I want you here. " "I won't be able to get a flight from--" "If you can dream my revenge on Monica, you can find a way to get up here." The steel in Janette's voice softened slightly. "I liked the coyotes. And the baby scorpions." "Just keeping my ears open. And Laurie helped." Frantically, Susan started going through her alternatives. But in the mean time--"I heard the ghastly trio packed up the menagerie and took a road trip." "LaCroix won't be pleased," said Janette after a pause. "But I think he's too busy at the moment to go after them. And I have a score to settle with Monica. As if I'd go after any of the Warren for no reason." "And Laurie's still locked in her apartment, Trouble on her lap and fractals on the screen?" "So I gather," growled Janette. "I started this whole thing for her, you know. I knew LaCroix wouldn't let one of his people escape without dire torment. And some have accused me of not taking care of my own. It would have been such a splendid coup--" "Until people started jumping ship left right and center," agreed Susan. "Well, you know you can count on me." "You'd never leave me?" Susan shuddered at the word--"Just . . . don't say 'never', okay? Every time I use that word, a week later I'm hip deep in it. Just ask Sharon sometime." Sighing, she winced at the thought of just how far she'd been willing to go for this series. Then, Susan sat upright. "Has Nick gotten his laptop back?" "Ummmm? Oh, yes. And those hideous cats--the ones that put garlic in half of my stock and attacked me? They broke into some innocent mortal's abode, stole their computer and their laundry, and released a perfectly ordinary non-Liz Hazel rabbit." Susan heard Janette's shiver over the line. "Nasty things!" Susan thought of mentioning that Janette would probably adore Laurie's cat, Trouble, but then decided that she'd like to live a little longer. "So, who's got the mail?" "The what?" "The fan mail?" pressed Susan. "You know, the stuff you dumped on Nick and which has been growing at a phenomenal rate since he's not the type to get around to doing ? I know most of it wasn't even entered yet. And God only knows what was in those sacks." Janette cleared her throat. "Yes. That's . . . true. I'll admit that there were times when the mail was very . . . interesting." Susan sat upright on a chair. "You read Nick's mail?" "Some." A cold chill ran down her spine. "And Natalie's?" "Ummmm." "And LaCroix's?" "Never," said Janette vehemently. "Or those dreadful FOD things--too much garlic. And usually uninteresting--mostly chatting about food and recipes." Susan's throat was dry. It was dangerous, but she had to know. After all, there was one thing that interested Nick and Natalie. "Did you happen to--uh--destroy any of Nick's or Natalie's mail? Like anything about how he might be brought back across?" Janette paused. "Semper fidelis?" she reminded softly. "All right." Susan bit her lip--maybe it was better that she know. "I'll be there as soon as I can." "That's a good girl. I'd better go--they'll be suspicious. I said I was going to powder my nose and my nose is that shiny." The dialtone returned. Susan looked at the phone and sighed again. Then she went back to the refrigerator. Nope. Nothing except a twelve-ounce jar of crushed garlic, a bottle of tomato ketchup, and gallons of ice tea. And--she leaned inside and picked it up--a card from her Sandman set, that had fallen from the refrigerator magnet on the freezer. Susan looked at the card. It was Matthew--the raven. Just as well it wasn't her membership card to Dream's library. She'd gotten it when she'd first started writing--and writing, adding scores of unwritten novels and short stories to the millions of might-have-been literary works that existed only in the Dream Country. That's when she realized that a trip to the library might be just the thing this time of night. the library happened to be in the Dream Country. For, as Monica, Sandye, and Dennis had so kindly pointed out, dreams could take you just about anywhere. And were a hell of a lot cheaper than airfare to Toronto. --------------------- SusanG2522@aol.com ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Sun, 10 Jul 1994 22:15:00 -0500 From: "Sharon S. Scott" Subject: FK War II: Arrival Friday, July 8, near midnight I pulled up in front of Nick's loft and wearily shut El Truck off. The loft was lit up like a Christmas tree--looked like everyone was still up and plotting. I got out of the pickup, walked quickly to the door, and hit the buzzer. "Yeah, who is it and what do you want?" That warm-honey voice made my knees turn to jello. "Um, it's me--Sharon--the one from Texas. Remember me?" "You're late. Come on up." The door opened, and I entered the elevator with some hesitation. Apparently he wasn't in the best of moods, which was understandable given the events of the last week. The elevator door opened, and as I stepped out, conversation stilled. Everyone stared at me and I stared back, realizing that the only people in the room that I recognized were Nick and Nat. A weird feeling--I thought I *knew* these people from the list, but reality was quite different from e-mail. Trying to put names to the faces, I figured the thin redhead must be Valerie, and the pale man on the couch *had* to be ex-Cousin John. I didn't recognize anyone else. I was here---really* here. Toronto, Nick's loft--the same loft I'd seen so many times via tape and television. I looked around in wonder. The black sun on the wall in the kitchen, a place where no one ever cooked a meal--the dining table at which no one ever dined--the piano; Nick had actually played it once--the red and black and yellow painting on the wall--the staircase leading up to the bedroom. A major case of deja vue. "Sorry I'm late. I got here as soon as I could." They all continued to stare at me. I looked down, thinking maybe my clothes were undone. And realized ... I still had on the frog ballet t-shirt. "Hey, I know it's weird, but it was a gift. And the information on it came in handy. And I was in a big hurry, and I forgot to take it off." I smiled. "And, as a matter of fact, I've gotten kind of fond of it." Valerie smiled back, and the ice was broken. "So, what in the Sam Hill's going on here?" I asked, then took a seat and waited for explanations. It was going to be a long night. -------------------------------- Sharon Scott scotts@baylor.edu ----------------------------------------------------------------------- --------- Date: Fri, 15 Jul 1994 20:22:42 -0500 From: TMP_HARKINS@DIRAC.PHYSICS.JMU.EDU Subject: FKWARSII--At Nick's Summit Meeting, Part III > "So, what in Sam Hill's going on here?" There were assorted sighs and groans, then, after introductions had been made, people started to fill Sharon in on what had been happening. Finally Natalie said, > "Okay, Valerie, you brought everyone here. Now how about telling >them why?" She was apparently as tired of the inaction as I was. > "That was...pretty much as far as I thought. I think I screwed >up, went off about three-quarters cocked. But I know we need to >unite, and I *knew* we weren't going to manage it unless we did it >face-to-face. We may not even manage it then." > "You're right about that," Janette snapped. "Just what made you >think you were appointed some sort of leader, anyway?" > "That's just it, I'm *not*! I don't think we'd ever all get along >with one leader, except maybe..." She cast a hopeful look in their >host's direction. > "Oh, no. I didn't want any of you getting involved at all. I'm >certainly not going to try and direct this madness!" > Nervously Valerie tucked a strand of red hair back into the >wayward remnant of a braid. "I know, I know. Look, I'm really sorry! >But I really think our only hope is to *communicate* and put up a >unified front against LaCroix!" She sank down on the arm of the >couch (away from John's end, I noticed). "I just don't know how to >do it." > "Well, isn't that just grand." Janette's voice was light, but >the tone was diamond-hard, razor-sharp. "I must say, Natalie, you >are welcome to this...child. I thought she showed promise during >that last little crisis, but now..." > "Now wait just a minute!" Valerie protested. "I *do* know one >of the main things keeping us divided is secrecy--specifically, at >least in part, *your* secrecy. We all know now that *you* told >LaCroix where to find the mail and the laptop, and you still haven't >told us why." I looked over at Nick, who was frowning. > "Why shouldn't I?" > "Because you stand to lose as much as anyone else, and you know >it! Do you think he'll really leave Susan alone? They say he's >already got Monica." Janette stiffened at this, and Valerie pressed >on, heedless of several warning headshakes including Nick's. "And >he won't stick to those involved now, either. If he wins, what's to >stop him going after Tara, or Mina? And Laurie's all alone and >vulnerable." Green eyes narrowed. "Or, are they all just expendable? >Use them up and throw them away like *he* does?" > That was the final straw, and Valerie realized it an instant too >late: a whoosh, a dark blur, and the vampiress was gone. > "Nice going, Ace," Nat chided gently. "Now what?" > "I don't know." > Valerie's near-inaudible admission that she didn't know what to >do next was met with silence, a silence broken by the door buzzer. >"Hey Nick, it's Alma." Nick walked over to the door and pressed the button to reply, >"What do you want?" > "I got something for ya. Come on, let me in, I got stuff to do!" > Nick looked around the room and was met by shrugs and headshakes. >"All right, come on up." When the intercom switch was off he muttered, >"And it better be good!" Alma soon entered the room, saying, > "Peace offering from Cousin Lisa." She was holding another >laptop...just what they all needed. "Actually, judging from what's >on this, I'd say she's about to be *ex--Cousin Lisa." > "What do you mean?" Nick asked sharply. "What's on it?" The vampire smiled. > "I guess she got a copy of that Arafat book from somewhere." > Nick snatched the laptop abruptly. "You mean Abarat? How could >she have--" > "Hey, don't ask me. She's the librarian. And I got better things >to do than have you correct my grammar, Nicky." > "Thank you, Alma. We won't keep you from them, then." > "Gee, thanks." > "Goodbye, Alma." Nick opened the laptop and put it on the coffee table. People gathered around the computer in an excited babble of voices. Except for me--I had no knowledge of computers whatsoever--and John Dencoff, who seemed to be trying to press himself into the crack in the corner of the couch where he sat. Nick told him to go upstairs. John somewhat unsteadily obeyed, his passing sending a chill through me. People were still exclaiming over the laptop (even Bruce was interested), but I noticed Nick had gone to the kitchen. Natalie slipped away to the kitchen too. Soon he returned with a glass and a bottle of what looked like his "blood." He headed upstairs with it. Did that mean that John had--become a vampire? If so, it must have been recent. But why was he here at Nick's? Natalie had paused near the kitchen area to watch Nick. On impulse, I walked over to her. "John?" I asked. She looked up at me as I was taller than she was. "LaCroix," she said simply, then walked on into the living room. I returned to my seat. Nick came back downstairs, sans glass and with an _empty_ "wine" bottle. Closer this time when our eyes met, I could see his were a green/blue. I could feel my temperature and pulse rise and looked away. I wondered if he could sense the effect he had on me. ------- Nick watched as the red-haired woman by the stairs looked away from him. Her eyes had been an odd color--somewhere between blue and gray with lighter flecks of some indefinable color mixed in. For some reason, he was reminded of some very erotic dreams he'd had from time to time about a red-haired stripper--who looked _nothing_ like this woman. His eyes travelled to her husband. He was about as tall as Nick, his hair and mustache either a dark blonde or a light brown, his long face open and friendly, his eyes gray. Nick sighed. He wished Janette's place hadn't been attacked--he wasn't accustomed to having so many strange people around. He walked out to the kitchen with the empty bottle and surveyed the fridge. What with Janette's consumption (due to her "wine" being contaminated with garlic) and John's, he was almost out of stock. Someone would have to go out for more, particularly with John in so new a state. People were still busy with the laptop. Nick picked up one of the two remaining bottles in the fridge. Better take another one to John. The redhead seated by the stairs avoided his gaze, but her pulse and temperature increased as he passed. Nick quickly walked upstairs, fervently hoping this "meeting" would soon be over. When he returned, he walked over to the knot of people around the coffee table. People moved aside so he could sit on the couch, some of them sitting down on either side of him. Could this really be a copy of the Abarat? Or was it perhaps a trap? He looked up at the people gathered around him. "This could be a trap. I'd like it if you all removed yourselves from the area, maybe the kitchen." People obeyed. Nick took a deep breath and cut the laptop on. There was no explosion, but the text he saw--part of it was english, but the other part was in some foreign script. It was all mixed together within most of the words. Nothing made any sense at all. And as he paged through it, whole sections of screen was blank. "I think you can all come back out now," he said. Natalie was the first eager person at his side. She frowned at the incoherent mass of material on the screen. "What happened?" she asked. "I don't know. All I did was call up the data," said Nick. "Maybe it's LaCroix's version of a joke," he added grimly. "No. They didn't know Ivy was taping them so they _have_ to have the Abarat," said Natalie. "Maybe someone sabotaged it before Alma brought it here," offered Ivy. "It doesn't matter now," said Nick. "John is good with computers. Maybe he can--" started Natalie. "John's--not in any kind of condition to do something like that right now." He looked around at the people gathered around him. Their expressions were sober and grim. Nick wished they would just leave. Natalie squeezed his arm. Then she looked at the others and said, "Well, it's very late. Maybe we should all--I don't know, go back to our groups and tell them what's happened? Maybe some new people can come up with some fresh ideas." People started to move away, gather things together. Bruce looked like he wanted to offer to help with the computer, but I put my hand on his arm and shook my head. He took the hint. He said, "Don't forget. We Die-Hards are willing to be mediators." Bruce passed the number of the Headquarters to Natalie. We left the loft. --Sandra Gray --tmp_harkins@dirac.physics.jmu.edu ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Sat, 9 Jul 1994 12:02:00 PDT From: M'lady Printcap the goddess of peripherals Subject: FKWAR2:_Jennise_makes_an_offer JULY 8, 12:00 INT. L. D. STEELE HOME - BEDROOM - NIGHT Dawn sleeps peacefully. She wears a t-shirt and has kicked the sheet down to her feet. KA THUNK! KA THUNK! Dawn stirs. She finally comes fully awake. KA THUNK! KA THUNK! She heads out of the bedroom. Tensed for attack; it's clear her karate has paid off. INT. STEELE HOME - LIVING ROOM - NIGHT Dawn steps into the living room. Her jaw drops at the sight of the black woman draped over her futon chair. JENNISE You like? She points to a full sized card board cut out of Killer Croc from the Batman Series. DAWN What? Who are you? JENNISE Come on. Guess! How do you like the poster? I guess that's what you call it. DAWN Jennise? JENNISE C'est moi. You know you were the only person who identified that little line in my .sig. DAWN What are you doing here? JENNISE Well, forgive me. I'm pretty behind in this little war. Had to get special dispensation. But, being a Die-Hard I figured I should report in. DAWN But you're... JENNISE A vampire. A career choice, really. I'm the head writer for the next season of Forever Knight you know. DAWN I thought... JENNISE Never mind who the mortals think is in charge. Or even what they think is going to make it on the air. But we're heading way off the point of my visit. I'm a Die-Hard and I'm here to offer my services as muscle. DAWN You just said you're a vampire. JENNISE And? What's your point? DAWN Won't LaCroix... JENNISE Pops cut me loose. I make my own choices. You want my help or not? DAWN We might just need your help before the next week is over. But, what if you have to go up against LaCroix or Nick? JENNISE Nick's a piece of cake. Pops. I've got one or two tricks up my sleeve. And if they don't work I can provide a distraction while you guys beat feet. DAWN I'll think about it. JENNISE Copacetic. You need me just holler. I got some traveling to do. Biggest draw back of my new state is getting from point A to point B before the sun comes up. Jennise heads over to the open window. JENNISE You know how to whistle don't you. Just ... Jennise climbs out the window and lets out a blood curdling scream. Followed by hysterical laughter. Dawn watches as she flies higher into the hot Hamilton night sky. Jennise Hall jennise@dgi.com or jennise@netcom.com ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Sat, 9 Jul 1994 16:02:27 -0500 From: The Coterie Subject: FKWAR2: When The Piper Calls When The Piper Calls..... The sound of crunching debris beneath his feet reminded him of battlefields long since forgotten. Like the bleached bones of fallen men, the remnants of a once normal life were strewn about the room at random. Kicking his way through the litter, LaCroix bent down and took the handle of the basket-hilt saber. At least this had not been broken. "At least some things were made to last." Pulling it through the mountain of odd papers, he raised it to its full height and brought it swishing down in one lightening move. "The fools...right under their feet...so much for mortals." LaCroix remembered the last mortal that had ventured in to the apartment. Sharon had possibilities. Certainly the "coterie" had said so. But would she answer to her true nature? Would she come to them as an equal, or as a victim? That would reveal itself in time, of course, as most revelations do; but for now, the task was complete. She had taken the laptop, and by now, she knew it had not been Nicholas' after all. She only had to pull up those hidden files, and then, if she was as clever as they had said, Sharon would know the secret plans that they had made those many weeks before. Turning back around, weapon in hand, LaCroix whispered their names...they had no choice but to answer the call. Porthos....Aramus.....Athos.....D'Artagnon...............It's time. ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Fri, 8 Jul 1994 19:39:55 EDT From: LizBeth258@AOL.COM Subject: A long night's drive Late night July 7 Early morning July 8 Beth swore colorfully as she slammed her Subaru door shut and lit a Marlboro. She offered Hazel a puff, who understandably turned her nose up at it. "Good. These things are bad for ya anyway," she said. Hazel settled down into a camel pose and prepared for the long drive. Before long, the rabbit was snoring. Beth vainly hoped the rabbit wouldn't mind the long drive to Pennsylvania. "Damn Janette. I drive all the way to Toronto from New Hampshire and NOW she wants me to go to Penn State with these 'top secret' instructions to Laurie, who is now apparently no longer a cousin. This is getting way to nuts for me. Maybe I shoulda stayed out of this war. HELL! Maybe I shoulda stayed out of the LAST war...." She kicked the car into gear and headed off into the muggy night. Passing through New England, she hit a thundershow. And of course, that WONDERFUL traffic jam in New Jersey. "Better appreciate this, Janette should. But of course she won't. That woman takes us WAY too much for granted," Beth muttered. She was just pulling into Penn State when an odd thought occurred to her. "Did Janette's office smell like garlic?" She looked at the overstuffed manila envelope and wisely issued, "Unh-oh...." ------------------------------------------------- Liz-Hazel ;) lizbeth258@aol.com ----------------------------------------------------------------- -------- --------------------Saturday, July 9th-------------------------- ---------------------------------------------------------------- Date: Sat, 9 Jul 1994 21:50:20 18000 From: Valerie Meachum Subject: FKWars2: Rockslide Early morning Saturday: The summit was crumbling. In fact, it was falling in great lethal hunks of rock to the valley below. There had been no word from Sharon, and Nick's succinct "She's in trouble" was seeming more understated by the minute. Tanaquil had returned to the Raven so surreptitiously that Valerie had not noticed exactly when she made her exit, but she was fairly certain the spy's exactly affiliation had escaped Janette's notice. She might even still be able to be completely anonymous; Janette had shown little interest in her benefactress' identity. Hopefully the cleanup efforts at the Raven were progressing well so that Tanaquil would have something to spy on... Surely they were progressing better than this meeting, though, which wasn't progressing at all. Everyone was warily eyeing everyone else, with the possible exception of John who was still pretty dazed. It was drawing close to dawn, but there was no word from Sharon Himmanen, or from others Valerie had fervently hoped would join them. Nick's succinct "She's in trouble" when they had received the telegram was seeming more and more an understatement. Worried for her compatriot, who had been the first to welcome her when she had fled the Cousins during the last war, Valerie could not begin to come up with a coherent plan of action. Which meant, of course, that someone would ask for one. "Okay, Valerie, you brought everyone here," Natalie prompted. "Now how about telling them why?" "That was...pretty much as far as I thought," Valerie confessed sheepishly, earning glares from several directions. "I think I screwed up, went off about three-quarters cocked. But I know we need to unite, and I *knew* we weren't going to manage it unless we did it face-to-face. We may not even manage it then." "You're right about that," Janette snapped. "Just what made you think you were appointed some sort of leader, anyway?" "That's just it, I'm *not*! I don't think we'd ever all get along with one leader, except maybe..." She cast a hopeful look in their host's direction. "Oh, no. I didn't want any of you getting involved at all. I'm certainly not going to try and direct this madness!" Nervously Valerie tucked a strand of red hair back into the wayward remnant of a braid. "I know, I know. Look, I'm really sorry! But I really think our only hope is to *communicate* and put up a unified front against LaCroix!" She sank down on the arm of the couch. "I just don't know how to do it." "Well, isn't that just grand." Janette's voice was light, but the tone was diamond-hard, razor-sharp. "I must say, Natalie, you are welcome to this...child. I thought she showed promise during that last little crisis, but now..." "Now wait just a minute!" Valerie protested. "I *do* know one of the main things keeping us divided is secrecy--specifically, at least in part, *your* secrecy! We all know now that *you* told LaCroix where to find the mail and the laptop, and you still haven't told us why." "Why shouldn't I?" "Because you stand to lose as much as anyone else, and you know it! Do you think he'll really leave Susan alone? They say he's already got Monica." Janette stiffened at this, and Valerie pressed on, heedless of several warning headshakes including Nick's. "And he won't stick to those involved now, either. If he wins, what's to stop him going after Tara, or Mina? And Laurie's all alone and vulnerable." Green eyes narrowed. "Or are they all just expendable? Use them up and throw them away like *he* does?" That was the final straw, and Valerie realized it an instant too late: a whoosh, a dark blur, and the vampiress was gone. "Nice going, Ace," Nat chided gently. "Now what?" Valerie looked around at the few faces remaining, their expressions ranging from expectancy to doubt to complete confusion. "I don't know." -- The Bad Penny * Valerie Lynn Meachum ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Sun, 10 Jul 1994 21:48:35 18000 Reply-To: Forever Knight TV show stories Sender: Forever Knight TV show stories From: Valerie Meachum Subject: FKWar2: Meanwhile, back at the loft... Valerie's near-inaudible admission that she didn't know what to do next was met with silence, a silence broken by the door buzzer. "Hey, Nick, it's Alma." "What do you want?" "I got something for ya. Come on, let me in, I got stuff to do!" Nick looked around the room and was met by shrugs and headshakes. "All right, come on up." When the intercom switch was off he muttered, "And it better be good!" Alma sashayed through the elevator door in her usual trashy style. "Peace offering from Cousin Lisa." She was holding another laptop...just what they all needed. "Actually, judging from what's on this, I'd say she's about to be *ex--Cousin Lisa." "What do you mean?" Nick asked sharply. "What's on it?" The vampiress flashed her best Frederick's of Hollywood smile. "I guess she got a copy of that Arafat book from somewhere." Nick snatched the laptop abruptly. "You mean Abarat? How could she have--" "Hey, don't ask me. She's the librarian. And I got better things to do than have you correct my grammar, Nicky." "Thank you, Alma," Nick said with as much sincerity as he could muster, which wasn't much. "We won't keep you from them, then." "Gee, thanks." "Goodbye, Alma." The messenger was already all but forgotten as Nick opened the laptop and set in on the coffee table amid murmurings of "Lisa betraying LaCroix?" and "Could it really be the book?" What it could mean to Nick! And John, Valerie added to herself, glancing in the ex-Cousin's direction. The new vampire sat in the corner of the couch, removed from the excited knot of people and pulled in to himself as much as he possibly could. He met Valerie's eyes for a brief second, then looked away sharply, pulling himself even further from the group. "Nick," she said in a low voice, catching their host's attention amid the stir. He followed her nod to John, and nodded in answer. "Come on, John, you're still in a rough time. Why don't you go upstairs, get some rest." Flicking a glance at the refrigerator, he added, "I'll come and check on you in a few." "Okay," John agreed. "Good idea." With all that was going on, no one noticed when Alma happened to pick up Nick's police special from the counter on her way out... -- The Bad Penny * Valerie Lynn Meachum Join the NatPack! We think we know what we're doing! ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Mon, 11 Jul 1994 02:57:05 -0500 Reply-To: Forever Knight TV show stories Sender: Forever Knight TV show stories From: TMP_HARKINS@DIRAC.PHYSICS.JMU.EDU Subject: FKWARSII--John's Lofty Problem July 8, 1994 John paced the confines of Nick's bedroom. It was a little quieter here--with some effort, maybe he could block out the sounds of the mortals below. 'I'm already starting to think like them,' he thought, somewhat shocked. When he'd come to Nick's place, he was sure he'd be dead. Instead he'd awakened to a different world--and hunger. A hunger that seemed to be steadily increasing. He wished wistfully for a stack of those dreadful Barneyburgers, a smile drifting across his face at the memory. But he found he couldn't hold on long to the image of food. He found his thoughts drifting to the thin redhead downstairs...Valerie. And he was thirsty. Very thirsty. ------- Nick watched the others continue to exclaim aloud and wonder at the "present" that had been brought to him from "Cousin" Lisa. But his sensitive hearing was taking note of John's pacing upstairs. He slipped away to the kitched and opened the refrigerator. Nat sidled up to him and licked her lips. "John?" Nick pulled a bottle of blood out of the refrigerator. He looked at Natalie and said in a low tone, "He--needs help. Try to keep the others' attention on the laptop and _don't_ let anyone come upstairs." "What's going to happen with him?" "I don't know. Maybe there's a cure in the Abarat." Natalie started to say something else, but he put a hand on her arm and shook his head slightly. Then he picked up a glass and headed upstairs. John stopped pacing when Nick entered the room and shut the door behind him. "I--brought you something," said Nick. He held out the bottle and glass, but John made no move to take them. Nick hesitated, then pulled out the cork on the bottle with his teeth. John watched him as he poured a glass of blood. Nick held out the glass. John licked his lips, but his hand shook a little as he took the glass of blood from Nick. For a moment he just looked at it, mouth slightly open. "I can't believe this is happening," he said. "Drink it. You--need to eat." John frowned, then lifted the glass and took a drink of the contents. His face took on a brief expression of disgust. Then he tossed off what was left in the glass. Nick stepped closer to John and this time John took the bottle from him. He poured another glass of the blood and drained it, then poured another. After the third, John sat down on Nick's bed. "Better?" Nick asked. "Some," said John. "But I'm still hungry. How do you drink this stuff?" "It's an--acquired taste. I find it's better for me than the alternative." John looked quickly at him, eyes wide. Then they got a some- what distant expression, one which Nick thought didn't bode well. He decided to bring the young man's thoughts out of more dangerous contemplations and besides, there was important information he had to know. "John, did--LaCroix make you drink any of his blood?" John focused his attention on Nick. "No. Is that good?" Nick tried to smile reassuringly. "It may mean you'll be able to resist his--influence--if he tries to use it on you." He hesitated, then said, "If necessary, I'll--try to help you adjust. But there may be a cure in the Abarat--for both of us." John poured the last of the blood into the glass and looked at it. "Yeah. A cure," he said. But he sounded fatalistic about the possibility--like he didn't really believe it was possible. Nick took the empty bottle from him. "I'll bring you up another bottle. Just--try to stay cool, okay?" John looked at him. "I'll try," he said. --Sandra Gray --tmp_harkins@dirac.physics.jmu.edu (Note: John gave me permission to make use of his character.) ----------------------------------------------------------------- ---------- Date: Sat, 9 Jul 1994 21:04:57 -0500 Reply-To: Forever Knight TV show stories Sender: Forever Knight TV show stories From: Betsy Vera Subject: FKW2: [Mission report] To: --------@---------- (you think I'm going to display sensitive info like this where anyone can see it?) :-) From: betsy.vera@mailgw.uprod.music.umich.edu Subj: mission report Dear Uncle: Everything is going as you planned. Sharon H., leader of the Nat-Pack, took the bait. I overplayed the role of the eager newbie, as you suggested. If she suspected me for a double-agent, she probably thought, "A cousin wanting to infiltrate our ranks would be far more convincing." When last I saw her, she was heading towards State College, Pennsylvania. Again, exactly as you predicted. I assume you have persuaded her to join your ranks by now. The rest of the Nat-Pack haven't made their feelings towards me clear, one way or the other, so I think I can still be effective as a double-agent. I'm surprised none of them noticed that the Cousins never came looking for me after I failed to use the plane ticket. Oh, yes, you might find this amusing. One of the last things Sharon said to me before leaving was, "This is a war that's going to be won on intelligence and infiltration, not overt attacks. At least not by overt attacks until we're ready, until we've gathered our forces and discovered just what's going on." Little do they know, eh? I'll stay in my hotel room, here in Toronto, awaiting instructions. Respectfully yours, Cousin Betsy ------------------------------------------------- betsy.vera@mailgw.uprod.music.umich.edu ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Sat, 9 Jul 1994 14:18:53 EDT From: Tracy Clarke Subject: FK war 2: The Charter Anyone entering to Radio Imaging room would not notice the mailbox full of war information. The console was full of windows, all overlapping leaving only pale orange corners visible, and the odd little snip of the purple background peeking out. "I can't believe these people. It's lucky for them that us Die-Hards have entered in this war. They are going to need a safe haven before too long if things continue like this." Tracy chuckled to herself as she thought of that charter Dawn had sent out. It would even make that Optics professor squirm. None of the others would understand why it was so large but it didn't really matter, they were just lucky that Dawn had pulled rank! << Fade to early Monday July 4 >> Rrriiinngg. Rrrinnnggg. Click. "Hello?" "Dawn, Tracy here. Listen, I like the idea of the Die-Hards being in this war, but before I offer my place for safety I need to be sure people obey certain rules." "Ok, I was considering setting up some basic information on our participation anyway. What sort of format do you think we should look at for getting the information out?" "I have been talking to Kathy and she thought that we need to declare ourselves to everyone. It should set up lines which can't be crossed if we are to help maintain low bloodshed." "Why don't we write a sort of group charter? It can give rules and such and could be sent to group leaders." "Sure Dawn that sounds like the key. Shall Kathy and I get on that tonight?" "Ummmmm ... I don't want to offend either of you but would that be wise? I mean remember that Optics report a couple of years ago?" "Ha ha ha ... Oh! So just because we are a little competitive and turned the report of a half hour experiment into a 200 page essay <* ok creative license here but it did top 70 pages each *> you think we will get out of control here too?" "Listen Tracy, I have known you two for several years and you *both* are famous for overkill. Do I have to pull rank on this?" "No. I know you are right. I thought we were going to give the poor guy a hernia! You go ahead and work on it. We have already talked about our ideas so I guess there is no reason to postpone it anymore." "Ok. How are the travel plans coming?" "Actually it is funny that you mention that. I called Pearson today to book a flight out and the woman seemed quite relieved by my request. When I asked why she said the airport was flooded with arrivals recently. It seems that a lot of people bearing little luggage have been arriving lately but not too many departures. I couldn't help wondering what the others are up to." "I think that we will find out before long. We have to be ready to jump in if we are needed. I'll get the charter out asap." "Good luck." << Fade back to present. >> Yes, she thought, they don't know how lucky they are. This many years later that professor was still talking about those reports. No-one had topped it yet! Dawn insisted on making the charter short. She wanted point form setup rather than full text. Tracy couldn't help thinking "Oh well, maybe next year Kathy and I will ...." __________________________________________________________________ -- Tracy Clarke Die-Hard-- the easy way is no fun!! tclarke@radio.astro.utoronto.ca In a special report on the Toronto police, Unreality News quoted captain Stonetree (37th Precinct) as saying "Our Knight patrol really takes a *bite* out of crime ...". ----------------------------------------------------------------- ---------- Date: Sat, 9 Jul 1994 14:33:11 U From: Wilson Judith Subject: Read my lips--NO! A lurker unlurks and a newbie decides! Early riser that she was, Jude Wilson had held off calling Susan until 10:00 AM. Give her enough time to unglue her eyes, have a cup of tea and catch up on The War. Oh yeah, and walk 'The Wizz King' as well. Steeling herself, she dialed and waited for an answer. "Hello?" Susan Garrett's voice was tentative and suspicious. "We go to Toronto," Jude didn't even say hello, just barged right on in her usual military manner, "they need us. They need fresh blood." "We going to Toronto, nitwit. In a week and a half from now, remember? Mary G.T's coming from Australia -- all that scrambling and re-planning?" "You don't understand," Jude's voice held a note of urgency to it. "We gotta go !" "Ah no, not you too!" Susan was trying desperately to calm her old-time friend down. She knew what Jude was like when she got an idea in her head--there was no rest for anyone until she was either satisfied or the idea was proven to be...trashable. Visions of Atlanta flashed across Susan's brain--it'd taken to get that one to die a decent death. Jude gave an exaggerated sigh of exasperation. "Is there or is there not a war going on?" she asked. "Ah, yeah." "Did you or did you not get a call from Madam Janette a little while ago?" "Hey, how'd you know about that?" One could hear Susan stopping dead from her usual pacing while on the portable phone. "Nick called me," Jude answer simply. "He WHAT!" "Well," Jude started, a bit lamely at first, "you know, he's got a right to call his followers too. I mean, L.C. calls his all the time; and Madam J. has been know to call you guys every once and a while. Look, Nat called in her entire troop when this thing started." "I'd advise you not to refer to LaCroix as . . . L.C. and ," Susan was using her best instructors voice, "do not refer to Janette as Madam J." "God, are you guys picky or what? Okay, fine. But we still got to get to Toronto right away. They need us at that summit they're having." "No, Jude," Susan admonished, "read my lips: We are going to Toronto this weekend!" Jude paused for a moment, then cleared her throat, "Ah, weren't you advised to get your butt up there right away?" she asked knowing full well what the answer was. "Yeah, but there is a little matter of finances and what do I tell Maggie?" Maggie was Susan's boss and very understanding, even perhaps, a Cousin in disguise. Susan didn't even question how Jude knew this little item. "The same thing I'm gonna tell John," Jude responded quickly. John was Jude's boss and had no idea whatsoever what was going on nor why it was so important that Jude borrow his cute little Mac powerbook every weekend. "Lie." "Besides," Jude continued in a rush, "we already have reservations on the noon flight to Toronto; Air Canada from Newark--you've got just enough time to drive to the airport. Sean can take care of Diego again this weekend." "He's not going to like it--and who's paying for the tickets?" Susan questioned. "You're wasting valuable time--the tickets are prepaid. We pick them up at the counter and somebody will pick us up at the airport," Jude continued, "it's all arranged. Don't forget, once Ex-Cousin John gets over his blood lust he's gonna need help putting the laptop back together and restoring all the data." "I'm gonna regret this--what makes you think I can help John?" "I don't," Jude said chuckling, "but I know somebody who can and they just happen to be in Toronto this very weekend." "?" Susan questioned. Jude was always coming up with some hair brain schemes; once in a while they worked, more often than not they either fizzled or got them both into trouble. Susan was leery of committing herself . . . again. Visions of The Ezekial Project were now tripping across her brain. Jude sighed again. "Look, I'll explain it all on the plane, okay? Will you just ? You'll see, it'll all work out. Trust me." *Oh God,* Susan thought as she hung up the phone and dialed Sean's number. *I'm gonna regret this, I just I'm gonna regret this.* wilson_judith@bah.com As Indy would say...Trust me! ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Tue, 12 Jul 1994 01:36:18 -0400 From: Robin Carroll-Mann Subject: Decision time Robin stared at the monitor, not really seeing it. So much had happened so quickly! Moves and counter-moves, evasions and deceptions, people changing sides -- sometimes more than once! -- it made her head spin. *At least I've kept my loyalty* she thought. *Nat Pack from first to last!* Then a more realistic inner voice added, *You haven't done anything, either. How much loyalty does it take to sit in from of your PC and read e-mail?* She frowned. What was she supposed to DO, anyway? She couldn't pick up and go to Toronto.... could she? *I don't even KNOW these people* she protested to herself. Even Natalie I've only exchanged e-mail with. Other than the principal players, I wouldn't know someone on the list if he/she came up and bit me!* Which, she mused, was a distinct possibility if she left the safe confines of suburban New Jersey. And what would she do in Toronto, once she joined the gathering in Nick's loft? She wasn't a devious strategist or a computer genius. She was a librarian. The only action she'd contemplated taking was a minor attack on fellow-librarian Cousin Lisa, but Lisa's defection had killed that idea. *I'd just get in the way.* Robin let her gaze wander. A hand-lettered sign was taped to the wall above the computer. "Some of my best friends are people I've never met." She'd once considered using it in her .sig. Her attention returned to the computer. She hit F2, letting Dlite log her into Delphi. A moment later, the main menu prompt asked courteously: MAIN>What do you want to do? Robin let out a sound that was halfway between a sigh and a chuckle. "Good question," she said aloud. "A very good question, indeed." She hesitated for a brief moment, then typed GO TRAVEL AIRLINES... ----------------------------------------------------------------- Robin Carroll-Mann rcmann@delphi.com Nat Pack "I know what you are and it hasn't made me crazy." ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Mon, 11 Jul 1994 00:06:00 -0700 From: Ava Chan-Crowder Subject: FK War : 101 Gateway Lane 9 July 1994 10 am Towel in hand, Ava finished drying her hair. She looked at the mirror, now she looked refreshed and eager to greet the day. Flying on the red-eye out of San Diego sure could zap all of you energy! Sitting at the little desk in her hotel room, Ava turned on her laptop and logged on to check her email. "Hmm...no mail yet?" Well, she had only been in Toronto for a couple of hours. "ARGH! No wonder no one has contacted me!" Ava put a hand over her face.... "How could I be so dumb?" She had tried to send email out, and it was returned to her node! "Duh! It would help if I entered the right addresses!" Once again thinking aloud, she said, "Now who should I send this too this time? Let's see, Knighties.....Selma is at that party back in California....hm....Sharon's on her way out here, and Natpack....hmm.....Natalie, who better?" ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----- To : scotts@baylor.edu nlambert@toronto.gov.ca >From : ava.chan-crowder@wcoast.cts.com Subject : I'm here! Hi all - This is my second attempt at contacting you two. My first try crashed and burned. I just made it to Toronto and I am now settled into my hotel. Please email me as soon as you can! Or give me a call at 555-2121, I'm in room 732. I hope to hear from the two of you very soon! ~~~Ava :-) AvaABC123@aol.com ava.chan-crowder@wcoast.cts.com ----------------------------------------------------------------- ---- Crossing her fingers, Ava sent off her messages. She anxiously looked around the hotel room. Grabbing her backpack, and stowing her laptop inside, Ava decided she would to try to find Nick's loft herself. The elevator emptied out at the lobby, and she made her way to where the doorman stood. Tipping his cap to the young woman, he opened the double doors. "Taxi!" A cab stopped in front of the hotel, and Ava climbed in. Looking at the driver, she gave him the address, "101 Gateway Lane, please." As the driver put his foot to the accelerator, Ava leaned back in the backseat of the cab. Hopefully she would be at Nick's loft, and finally be meeting other participants of the war. ---- ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Sun, 10 Jul 1994 23:48:11 -0400 From: "L.D. Steele" Subject: FKWARII: Destination Toronto Sat. July 9th, 11:30am Dawn was taking a break. It had been a grueling day already. The Mac University students she had used to get the flyer out had been dropping by morning. They wanted expense money. Apparently after they had dropped off flyers at the addresses she had given them, they had started hitting parking lots at random. *I can just see that silly little pink and green flyer on thousands of cars. Maybe it'll bring some Die-Hards into the open though. Ones like me, that hadn't sent in an application.* She had been checking her email on and off all morning. There were Die-Hards sympathizers in every group, and she'd been very discreet in feeling them out. They made anonymous reports of the situations in the various camps. *People make an alliance to one party, when they really would like to have membership in two or three. It's probably why there's so much switching of sides during a war.* Annoying to some, but very useful for the Die-Hard information system. *I probably know more about what's going on in the various camps than LaCroix. Of course, he just makes extremely accurate guesses.* Dawn went into the small apartment kitchen and got some more ice cold rosehip tea. *I wonder if the rumor that vampires are allergic to roses is true. If it is, I certainly wouldn't be very appetizing right now.* She sat down in her futon, *I love this chair* and tried to think about Jennise's visit last night. She was tired though and her mind started to skip from one subject to another. Jennises' visit had been expected. Dawn was still trying to figure out how she had gotten through the patio window doors without breaking them. The cut-off broom handle had been lying on the floor. *I wonder if vampires have a bit of telekineses? I shouldn't worry, I probably just left it off yesterday.* *I think I'll keep that Killer Croc figure. Somehow it's just what this apartment needs. Hmmm, that reminds me. Once this war is over, I have to find out when Batman:TAS is on. I can't believe they took it off at 8 am. Don't they know people want a bit of entertainment when they eat their breakfast?* It was time to go to Toronto. *What should I pack? I should leave pretty soon.* People were starting to arrive from all over and she didn't want to be an hour's drive away if the action started to happen. *I'll just head out to the St. George Residence and make sure it's set up. I don't know if anyone will need it for sanctuary in this war, but it never hurts to be prepared.* The St. George residence was perfect. The residence was in the shape of a hollow rectangle with a courtyard (and fountain) in the middle. The lasers were installed to prevent an aerial entrance, and the only other entrance had a gate with an alarm on it. Anyone attempting to force the door would be surprised very quickly. *There was that strange reports about cats in the Raven. A cat would be able to just slip right through the bars in the gate. Why would be involved though? Someone probably had a bit too much wine before they logged on. Still, I better check it out when I get to Toronto.* *It's a good thing the residence is fairly deserted in the summer. I wouldn't want LaCroix or anyone else to try and force the key from an innocent bystander.* There was a painted red and white cross over the entrance of course, but surely that wouldn't bother the vampires much. *It's right by the Toronto university too. I'll have to tell my supervisor that I had to go to the libraries there to do a bit of research. I might as well mix truth and fiction and try to get a bit of work done during the war.* Lists, lists, lists. *I should make up a list of things to do...* *I did put Tracy's St. George address in the charter. People should be able to contact me there. I still haven't heard back from Tracy about when she's leaving for her vacation, and I'll have to get a set of the master keys for all the rooms. Until then I'll just have to practice my lockpicking skills. I'm glad that I already have a gate key though. That sucker can be picked.* Dawn was still amazed that the residence had such a high quality lock to the place. *It's due to be torn down in a few years too.* *I think it's time to get moving. I can use Tracy or Kathy's computer to keep caught up on my reports. I've received that package I was waiting for, so there's no point in staying here any longer.* Dawn walked across the room and stared at the small nondescript letter parcel. *We should be able to handle things without resorting to extremes. Especially now that Jennise has offered to help the Die-Hards. Still, a little bit of insurance never hurt.* She picked up the parcel and slipped it into her old green carryall. *Let's get moving.* ----------------------------------------------------------------- --- Dawn steele@fern.physics.mcmaster.ca ----------------------------------------------------------------- --- ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Thu, 14 Jul 1994 09:42:45 CDT From: "Bonke, Robin" Subject: FKWARSII: Exor-WHAT?! FKWARSII: The Exor-WHAT!?, SATURDAY, JULY 10, EARLY AFTERNOON The office was empty and quiet as summer smiled down upon Chicagoland. And what was she doing? Complaining to friends' answering machines and doing favors for her father. Robin sat at her desk, typing in the Bylaws and Constitution of the Paper City Kennel Club. And Barney still came popping up occasionally to sing his purple heart out. And she'd rebooted thrice in as many hours. Grrrrr... This was no way to spend a war. She wasn't getting all the mail, the network saw to that. But she did get enough. She wasn't a Knightie and didn't know of anyone else in the company who was. But then again, the network had been having major problems for a month or so, so maybe its immune system was down and it had just caught the first virus passing by. But why couldn't it have been a *mime* virus?! Or a pornographic semaphore virus?! The screen went blank. "I love you..." come out of the speakers. Robin peeled herself off the ceiling. An etch-a-sketch Barney briefly filled the screen. Which was better than the full color Barney. Maybe the IS guys were making progress. She sighed. IS was working on the network problems that had been plaguing the company, but it was still acting like Sybil on speed and thorazine, when it wasn't totally catatonic that is. The last time she'd seen the net admin, earlier in the day, he and other IS people were talking to a pair of priests. They couldn't really be serious about that exorcism stuff, could they? Asking about group admission rates for mental health facilities was one thing, or tips on recreational drugs, but exorcism?! "I love you..." Barney appeared again, but Robin was ready, and only jumped a foot or two. This time he appeared in full SuperVGA color and she could have sworn the eyes glowed. She frowned, a strange feeling starting in her middle and working its way slowly upward. Group rates for funny farms... Two priests... Talk of exorcism... Glowing (?) eyes... Robin looked down at her computer. Maybe it was time to log out. TOO LATE. The screen warped like oil on a puddle and bulged outward very unlike oil on a puddle. The bulge took the shape of Barney's head, dripping with thick maple syrup (!). It smiled as it thrust itself out of her computer screen and an arm reached for her. Robin shrieked, reverse leap-frogged out of her chair, threw the bylaws at the 3D image, and ran. She didn't stop until she realized she wasn't moving. Barney's paw brushed her shoulder, tightened its grip. Suddenly, like a skipping record back on track, the moment passed, and she could move again. She fell flat on her face. She looked back at her cube to see sheaves of paper laying in and around a small puddle of rainbow-colored maple syrup. She was running before she was standing. The IS office was a chaotic jumble of strewn furniture and dark blotches and puddles. The blotches, she discovered as she got closer, sniffed, and taste tested [how else to find out?], were raspberry-asparagus flavored icing. The puddles, carrot-broccoli-rhubarb baby food. Not bad actually, though both were a trifle too sweet. The occasional Barney-diaper-and-training pant-all-in-one and plush Baby Boo squeeze toy peeked out from under overturned desks and chairs. The net admin stood in the middle of the chaos, snapping his fingers in front of the surviving priest's face. The other priest was no where to be seen. The other IS staff were just beginning to emerge from the rubble when the net admin looked up. He wasn't smiling and his eyes had some sort of afterglow. He nodded to a sooty, sorrowfully dazed looking man, who took over trying to bring the priest around. He came toward her, still not smiling and with that curious afterglow. Robin did her best imitation of a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming semi. He stopped to push aside a chair and grab a full golf bag and a largish wrapped package. Robin blinked, released from her paralysis and turned to run. "Not so fast. I have a job for you." He was smiling, sort of. Sharks smile like that before they eat you, she thought. Robin looked back. The afterglow was gone. Good. "Such as?" She hoped he didn't plan to turn her into a one-woman Maids 'R Us crew. The rest of IS was not up to cleaning up after themselves--not even those who weren't listing to the totally horizontal. "A little trip." The smile deepened. Robin heard dinner bells. "To Toronto." Toronto?! Oohhhh.... "I, um, don't think that's a, err, good idea. There's, um... " Robin wondered, how do I write, er, talk, my way out of this? I can't go! I've got work! Besides, my life insurance isn't paid up, I haven't satisfied my medical/dental deductible, and the mental health benefits aren't that great. "A war going on? Yes, I know." He smiled. The dinner bells still rang out, but Robin had the hoped for feeling they tolled not for her. Or were they sirens? Either way. "I want you to deliver something to a subscriber. We've been unable to contact him since it started." He chuckled at some private joke or thought. Subscriber? Just what.... Oh, that's right. He was also head of some huge Chicago-area computer association that had its own BBS with all the trimmings. By why not just mail it? Foolish human, probably because he couldn't. Silly question with a nasty answer, in all likelihood. Robin pointed at the package and golf bag. "Is this going to get me in trouble?" "As is, no." Robin tried again. "Is this illegal or unsanitary? Fattening? Tastes great? Less filling?" "Not in and off itself, no. It could get that way real fast, though." This was going nowhere. "Okay, fine. Let's say I don't *want* to take this to Toronto?" He seemed to consider it for a moment. "That would be unfortunate." She glared. It didn't faze him. Anyone else, yes, but him? Nope, no luck. Grrrrrr.... "Let me get this straight. If I do this, I take a chance on messy, inconvenient confinement in the jail of the police officer's choice, with starchy high-fat food on the menu, for a long time. If don't do this, you'll make me a non-person to the networks of the world, or something like that, for an even longer time. "More or less." "You're a bastard." "Didn't I tell you that when you looked at my upstairs apartment?" True, but that was different. An small, extended pause later: "OK. I'll say uncle. I trust that you've made arrangements?" He nodded, and smiled. Dammit! Would he just quit smiling all the time. What did they say about people who smiled too much? Did she want to know? Probably not. As she was thinking this, the net admin went back to the spot where he'd fished out the golf bag and package from and grabbed a manila folder. He handed it to her. "It's all there." "Thanks. I think." He chuckled. "You won't regret it. Trust me." "Bullshit." But she smiled to herself. She was, after all going to Toronto. How bad could it get if she was careful? She had Nick Knight's address somewhere. Maybe she could go there after she delivered the package. Or, maybe before; she'd decide later. "Uh, what about the golf bag?" "Take it with you. You may need it." Okay.... But she did, not asking questions she *knew* wouldn't get a straight answer to, leaving as the fire department, police, and what looked like the National Guard converged. As several firefighters rushed past, she paused to open the envelope. Airline tickets for 3:00 (3:00! It was one already. Well, cut it close, will ya.) Coach and near the back. Probably wanted her to survive in the event of a crash. Hertz rental car reservation with note about asking if there was an OJ special (Yeck!). Confirmation for a Holiday Inn or something. A written address. That was the interesting part. It looked familiar. When the way was clear, she went on, stopping at her cube to pick up her purse and carryall. Someone had been nice enough to clean up the mess--and her papers. Oh, well, but she *was* going to Toronto, after all. He'd given her the excuse she'd not been able to give herself. As she walked out of the building toward her car, she realized where she'd seen the address. As a Die-hard with Cousin leanings, she'd gotten some conversion-oriented email from the Cousins once upon a time. They'd given her an address at one point. She reached her car and sagged against it. "I'm gonna die," she whispered. If I'm lucky, she thought. No, wait. I'm not gonna die, and I'm not gonna be lucky. I'm gonna be *dinner*. But it was too late to back away now. She looked back at the building. "I swear, as the asphalt and rescue vehicles are my witness, if I come out of this alive and without a hemoglobin fixation, I'll never...." She stopped. What am I doing? I hated that movie! to be continued... robin bonke rbonke@usr.com ---- oh, no! not another learning experience! ---- ---- there are never enough lunch hours in the day ---- ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Sun, 10 Jul 1994 19:33:46 EDT From: Tokaara@AOL.COM Subject: FK Wars 2: Assignments & Rescue Assignments & Rescues --------------------- Mid-afternoon, 7/10 Cousin Tok considered her assignment. One way or another (Larry's computer hacking, perhaps), Uncle had found out that one of Nick's allies was due to arrive in Toronto this afternoon, from Newark. Tok was supposed to intercept her at the airport and dear Jude to see the error of her ways. Uncle would just love to have one of the Knighties turned. As she prepared to leave her room, Tok was surprised to see that the laptop was still on. "Damn, I'm usually more careful than that. I guess I was just in such a hurry ...," she muttered to herself as she switched the machine off. "Good thing there haven't been any thunderstorms." Tok was so absorbed in her own plans, she never noticed Gandalf and Merlin slipping out the door with her. They took off in the opposite direction as she got in her car to go to the airport. * * * * * * * * * * Gandalf and Merlin had been frantically busy since they'd hit Toronto. First, setting up their own e-mail access. Then, an important e-mail: To: Sidney Lambert From: Gandalf and Merlin Date: 94-07-10 04:30:21 EDT Subj: We gotta do something! Sidney -- Good thing you found a way to get your e-mail privately. We gotta help Mom! She's gotten into this thing way too deep. There has to be some way to rescue her from LaCroix's influence before it's too late. Any suggestions? Worriedly, Gandalf and Merlin Before too long, an answer arrived. To: Gandalf and Merlin From: Sidney Lambert Date: 94-07-10 05:14:01 EDT Subj: Don't worry Don't worry, my friends. Even now, more of us arrive in Toronto. Meet us at the Raven this afternoon and I'll tell you our plan. We can help your Mom. Sidney Somewhat comforted, Gandalf and Merlin still fretted until they were able to get out to make their appointment. Granted, a cat do anything, but had they waited too long to act? Quickly, they made their way to the Raven to meet the others. +----------------------------------------------------+ | Lisa Luksus tokaara@aol.com | | Cousin 'Tok' | +----------------------------------------------------+ ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Sun, 10 Jul 1994 20:15:27 EDT From: Panstygia@AOL.COM Subject: The "Joker" Strikes The "Joker" Strikes In a moment of quiet, Nan pulled out her lap top and took care of a "little" problem. Before she could start her new life, she had one last piece of business to attend to. Pulling out a disk she thought she'd never use in this way, she forwarded a copy of a couple of WAV files to her "friend", Cousin Tok. She sent them under the screen name GARTHFAN, a name she'd used to anonymously contact Tok before. Tok had no idea who Garthfan really was, and had certainly never suspected it was Nan. With the WAV files, she sent the following message: Tok -- Thought you might be interested in these, since I know how much you like the man. She make an interesting addition to your collection. Enjoy! Garthfan Then Nan sat back and smiled. Garthfan indeed. She only wished she could be there to see the look of pain and horror on Tok's face when she demo'd those WAV files. Instead of listening to the lyrical voice of one of Tok's favorite country western artists, she'd be treated to the thumping rhythm of the Steve Miller Band, singing one of Nan's favorites, "Fly Like An Eagle", a song Nan knew affected Tok like fingernails on a chalkboard. She chuckled to herself. "Mess with my Rick Springfield tapes, will you?," she muttered to herself and she triggered the download into Tok's mailbox. If there was one thing she'd learned from her time with Janette, it was that you don't get mad... you get even. Humming "The Joker", by Steve Miller, she punched the enter key with conviction. Panstygia ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Sat, 9 Jul 1994 12:30:45 EDT From: Sharon Himmanen Subject: FK Wars 2: A new beginning [part 1/2]------------------------ A New Beginning Sharon Himmanen July 9th, late afternoon. She sat on the plane, coach again. Right now she was somewhere in the skies above New York State. She'd be landing in Toronto soon. It had been another long day--she was still wearing the same clothes she'd had one when Nat had sent her onto her impromptu trip to Michigan. And she hadn't eaten in days, either. She was beginning to wonder if this was all worth it. And she couldn't get her conversation with LaCroix out of her head. Especially his question, about joining him. It was true--she had strongly considered it a few months back, had even admitted to Laurie that she was something of a Cousin at heart. But she'd not been able to take that final step. And until now, the triumph of that had sustained her. But LaCroix's simple question had considerably changed the equation. And reminding herself that she was exhausted, hungry, and nearly broke didn't help. With a sigh she opened up the computer. It would be better to find something to do, something to keep her from thinking until she could talk to Natalie. Nick's laptop went through a fairly standard boot-up procedure. But instead of going into Windows (wretch!) LaCroix's digitized face filled the screen. Sharon nearly dropped the computer and was thankful that the seats around her were pretty much empty or filled with dozing passengers. The image laughed. "I knew your curiosity would get the better of you, sooner or later. I'll bet you're in the air, on your way to Toronto right now. "By now you know that this *isn't* Nick's laptop. I'm afraid a bit of deception was necessary to help you find the truth. Did you believe me?" He paused and smiled sharply. "Of course you did," he said. But he wasn't mocking her. He was deadly serious. "You believed because you *wanted* to believe in me. Some part of you wants to trust me. You saw the truth during the last war--I showed all of you, but few learned the lesson. "It's taken time, hasn't it? "I speak the truth. I've *always* spoken the truth, but very few have the courage to listen to me. There was a time when Nicholas listened, when Nicholas believed in the truths I told him. But now . . ." The pain in LaCroix's expression was real, true betrayal and hurt. "And *she* encourages him, urges him to see the truth when all the while we all know she's lying. She's lying to herself most of all." There was a long pause. Sharon saw the truth. "There will be a car waiting for you in Toronto, *Cousin* Sharon." With that, the image of LaCroix nodded, smiled softly and disappeared. [end of part 1/2]----------------------------------------------------------- * * * * * Cousin Sharon o-----------------o---------------------------------------------- ---o | Sharon Himmanen | shihc@cunyvm.cuny.edu * romana@aol.com | | Cousin | s.himmanen@genie.geis.com | o-----------------o---------------------------------------------- ---o ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Tue, 12 Jul 1994 15:42:40 -0500 From: Jennie Hayes Subject: FKwars2: Interruptions [part 2/2]--------------------------- Interruptions, part 2 thought Jennie, as she drove her rental car out of the Toronto airport late Saturday afternoon. She thought shed never make it to Toronto; there was far too much interference. The bed and breakfast she was staying at was in a lovely area known as the Beaches, full of Victorian houses and right near a wonderful park along Lake Ontario. The drive was uneventful (especially compared to most of the driving she did in Chicago) and she checked into the house she was staying in gratefully, then settled down to consider what she should do next. [end of part 2/2]----------------------------------------------------------- Jennie, Natpack jmhaye@skcla.monsanto.com ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Mon, 11 Jul 1994 20:41:55 -0600 From: John Dencoff Subject: FKWars2: Utterly Alone John lay quietly in the bed, but he could feel their heartbeats pounding insistently in his ears. There were so many of them now, downstairs...he could feel their warmth even this far away. And he was hungry... He could not push the image of the redhead from his mind. Valerie, yes...that was her name. Someone once mentioned her name, and now it was engraved on his perfect memory. In fact, everything now about being a vampire was so enhanced. His memories, perceptions, feelings, and even his deepest desires now burned with crystal clarity, and he wanted her blood. *Was it so very wrong?* he thought, and then tried to push those thoughts away. But the temptation was so very strong! How could Nick resist it? The allure of the hot blood was almost overpowering! Nick...yes, Nick had left him another bottle. Thoughtful, but it smelled stale and repulsive. This was the gift LaCroix had given him, the price of Immortality. * * * He allowed his mind to drift to other things. How long had he been here? Suddenly, his mind offered: *Soon, they'll be asleep!* ...their heartbeats, their heartbeats. He pressed his hands against his temples. Try to forget, try to forget. Soon, he fell asleep, but his dreams were of pain and blood. * * * He awoke with a start. How late was it? He should tell Nick, the others, about LaCroix's intentions. About Janette. But if he went downstairs, would he be able to control himself...the hunger? No, it was better to stay here. Isolated, where everyone else would remain safe. Hopefully Ivy and the others would remember the disks that he'd brought. They would explain a great deal. Then he thought about LaCroix. What would LaCroix say to him? He was once a Cousin after all. Their thinking didn't differ all that much...but LaCroix had done this to him. Would LaCroix now be his master? Nick had mentioned LaCroix's blood. He thought hard... No, he hadn't tasted his blood after all. Perhaps that would give him some small measure of resistance when he finally met the Master again... Downstairs, the commotion became louder. More and more people had arrived. There were so many now...and Janette had apparently gone. He hoped Nick could stop him, prayed that he could. But the blood...it *called* to him. How would he endure this madness? John E. Dencoff jdencoff@polaris.unm.edu ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Fri, 15 Jul 1994 15:39:36 18000 From: Valerie Meachum Subject: FKWars2: Just a Little Crisis Saturday afternoon, 7/9/94... Nick's loft was very quiet, at least to mortal ears, but there were very few of those about. One pair belonged to Ivy, who was still busily fiddling with the laptop Alma had delivered in an apparently-futile attempt to retrieve the translated copy of the Abarat it supposedly contained. Natalie had gone home to grab a few hours' sleep and check in with poor Sidney, and most of the remaining delegates of the Loft Summit, as it had been jokingly dubbed sometime before dawn, had either straggled back to their lodgings or gone off on various errands. Nick stood over Ivy's shoulder by the kitchen table, looking about as brain-fried as Valerie felt. She had relinquished the hovering position some while before when the characters on the screen had started moving of their own accord and she had decided that taking a seat on the other side of the table and providing moral support from out of the way would be more effective. "No, it's not an illegal command!" Ivy wailed, piercing the quiet. "It's *not*!" "Guess the laws have changed." Valerie's comment was punctuated with a cavernous yawn, and distinctly lacked the bounce her voice had held up to now. Of course, now was approximately 34 hours after she had gotten up on Friday morning, and she was fairly certain she had eaten a few times in there but wasn't entirely certain when. "You look ready to drop," Nick informed her. As if it was some sort of surprise. "I know you want to be here if we hear from Sharon or Betsy, but you're not going to do anyone any good if you don't get some sleep." Valerie tossed him an attempt at a brilliant smile, which fell a little short. "Sleep is for con wimps." "Well, this isn't a con. It's a war. And the last thing any of us needs is another avoidable casualty." Despite his own obvious fatigue, his tone had taken on a sternness that reminded her just who here knew what a *real* war was like and stopped her intended flip reply. "Agreed," she conceded instead. "So can I crash on your couch?" "I insist." "Right." Valerie eyed the very stylish but not terribly cozy-looking black leather furniture in question. "I don't suppose you have an extra blanket or something? I don't want to be a pest, considering I wasn't exactly invited, but my internal thermostat is kinda wonky and I get really cold when I sleep." "Nat keeps telling me I need a guest room..." he muttered. Aloud he continued, "Yeah. There's a linen closet upstairs, the door right past the bedroom." "Thanks." Valerie only had to haul herself up out of the kitchen chair and toward the stairs to know just how wiped out she really was. She reached the closet in question and pulled out a thick, slightly dilapidated blue quilt that reminded her a bit of the one on her own couch, which had been made by her great-grandmother. Blearily she wondered whether Nick knew any Welsh-rooted Arkansas farm folks as she turned to go back downstairs--and bumped squarely into John, who had stepped out of Nick's room without her noticing. "Yikes," Valerie noted, the alarming yelp this would normally have produced being squelched by exhaustion. "Sorry. I'm not real observant right now....ohmigod!" Her voice and perceived energy level both shot up as she registered that John didn't look like John, and she didn't like it one bit. *Eyesaren'tSUPPOSEDtobethatcolorIdon'tcareifI'musedtoitfromNick getridoftheblanketthrowitathimhe'sonmyrightgolefttrhowANYTHINGathim 'causethere'snobodyhomeinthereboltforthestairsOW!!!!!!* The last bit of that panicked burst of thought emerged aloud as John threw the quilt behind him and grabbed blindly with his other hand simultaneously, latching on to long flying red hair and yanking the fleeing mortal back toward him. Valerie thrashed and tried to squirm away for all she was worth, which was quite a bit under normal circumstances, but her flexibility and dancer's reflexes were no match for even a brand-new vampire. Less than a second passed before she was pinned any way she tried to move, face-to-face with those unnatural eyes in a face devoid of any hint that the John they knew was actually there. She screamed. It was the Patented Banshee Special she had perfected in countless high-school melodramas and a community-theatre _Dracula_, the sound that had been most accurately described as "Mariah Carey riding the Demon Drop on a really bad acid trip." And to a day-old vampire yet unaccustomed to the sharpness of his hearing, it was enough of a shock that Valerie managed to twist away and bolt for the stairs again, taking them three and four at a time before losing her footing and landing in a graceless heap at the bottom. She had *felt* him right behind her all the way down and instinctively she curled into a ball, tucking her head inside her arms and waiting for the killing strike. It didn't come. From above, outside her own arms muffling her hearing, she heard Nick's voice, low and harsh. "Stop. Now. John, listen to me! Stop." It was quiet for a moment, and cautiously Valerie peered up to see Nick pinning John against the stair railing only a couple feet away. In that instant the ex-Cousin's identity seemed to flood back into his face, his eyes returning to normal and horror settling on his features. Nick waited a moment longer before releasing him to sit, stunned, on the steps. Involuntarily Valerie scooted back a little at the movement, running into Ivy who knelt behind her and placed protective arms around her shoulders. Still placed so that he could grab John with little or no warning, Nick turned worried eyes to her. "Are you all right?" Valerie nodded shakily, searching for her voice and finding it after a few seconds. "I'll have some lovely bruises from the stair dive, but otherwise I'm fine." Turning to John, who immediately looked away, she added, "Should have asked, John; I would have told you there wasn't enough to spare! The Red Cross won't even take me..." [my machine is going down, part 2 later...] -- The Bad Penny * Valerie Lynn Meachum ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Fri, 15 Jul 1994 19:16:00 18000 From: Valerie Meachum Subject: FKWar2: Little Crisis Continued... "Should have asked me, John. I don't have enough to spare--even the Red Cross won't take me. Could have saved you the trouble." Nick frowned. "It isn't funny." "No, it, isn't," Valerie agreed. "And if I don't make it that way real quick, when I really register how close I just came to dying I'm going to run screaming for the horizon, and I don't have the time." "All right, all right." Turning his attention back to John, Nick directed, "Ivy, make sure she's really okay. I'll be back in a minute." "That was a hell of a tumble," Ivy said, helping Valerie up and heading for the couch. "Yeah, I give it about a--oof!--nine-six, nine-seven. Mandatory deduction for not breaking anything." True to his word, Nick returned a few minutes later, carrying the forgotten quilt. "I don't know if you'll be able to sleep now, but..." He wrapped it around Valerie's shoulders, looking so dreadfully concerned that she burst out laughing. "But I think you'd better," he finished, a smile twitching at the corner of his mouth. "Uh-huh." He was still looking concerned at her, and she cracked up anew. "Nick, I'm *all right*. No harm done, honest, unless you count blowing my adrenalin quota for the next three months. And as soon as it's out of my system, which will be in about twelve seconds or so, I'm going to go kafoomp on your couch. But you *are* going to wake me up if you hear from Sharon or Betsy or Jennie, right?" "Is there any way we can avoid it?" "Nope." Nick finally cracked a real smile. "All right, then." "Nick?" Valerie's laughter faded along with the adrenalin rush. "Is John going to be...all right?" The detective's expression was less than positive. "I hope so." -- The Bad Penny * Valerie Lynn Meachum ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Sun, 10 Jul 1994 22:42:31 EDT From: Tokaara@AOL.COM Subject: FK Wars 2: The Rescue Is On The Rescue Is On ---------------- Sunday afternoon (7/10) To: Panstygia@aol.com From: Sidney Lambert Subj: Help us help a friend Nan -- my dear friend Merlin has told me that you are a good and kind person. He fondly remembers your visits and appreciates the back scratches. Now, to the point. You may be the person we need to rescue Tokaara from LaCroix's clutches. Gandalf and Merlin are worried about her, with good reason. Can we count on you? Please reply quickly. Sidney Nan looked at this new e-mail message suspiciously. Messages from Lambert? Then again, stranger things had happened lately. If vampires are real, why not cats sending e-mail? In any case, it might be the only way to get her Rick Springfield tapes back. Shrugging, she began to compose her reply. * * * * * * * * * * Tok trudged back to her motel room. How was she ever going to explain to Uncle that she'd muffed her assignment? "How was I supposed to know there'd be road construction?" she muttered to herself as she fumbled with her room key. LaCroix would not be pleased. Before she reported in, she'd check her e-mail one more time. Maybe something there would give her a chance to redeem herself. Either that or she needed to find a cast-iron neck protector. Tok had no desire to suffer ex-Cousin John's fate. "I'm back, guys," she called out to the cats. No answer -- they must have been napping. She went to the laptop and sat down. "Gee, some non-war e-mail." Tok almost decided to ignore it. Then again, there may not be another chance to enjoy it. She decided to read the message. Tok -- Thought you might be interested in these, since I know how much you like the man. Should make an interesting addition to your collection. Enjoy! Garthfan Well, the WAV files wouldn't take long to download at 9600 baud. Tok hit the "Download Now" button and waited. At least there hadn't been any communications from Uncle. She hoped he'd be in a better mood when she got back. Maybe if the electricity were back on ... Tok logged off and popped into one of her sound utilities to play the WAV files. She selected one called FRIENDS.WAV, expecting to hear the notes of "Friends In Low Places." Instead, what played on the computer's speakers was "Fly Like An Eagle." A tune that she'd hated ever since being subjected to it twenty-four hours a day continuously by a neighbor in her college dorm. "AAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!" * * * * * * * * * * By the time Nan and the cats arrived back at the motel room, they found Tok curled up on the floor with her hands clamped firmly over her ears. Nan walked over and shut off the computer. "Sorry about that, old buddy, but you never should've messed with Rick." She spied the tapes Tok had dropped on the desk and scooped them into her purse. "But since I've got them back, maybe I'll forgive you." She hoisted Tok to her feet. Tok was still mumbling "No, no ...", but Nan managed to steer her toward the door. Looking at the cats, she said, "OK, guys, come on. We've got to get her back to the loft." The whole gang went to Nan's car for the trip back to Nick's. +----------------------------------------------------+ | Lisa Luksus tokaara@aol.com | | Cousin 'Tok' | +----------------------------------------------------+ ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- Date: Mon, 11 Jul 1994 14:02:17 -0500 From: Betsy Vera Subject: FKW2: Surprise! ----------------------------------------------- Saturday afternoon: After a long wait, Betsy had finally received her instructions. She parked around the corner from LaCroix's apartment building. Nice neighborhood. Lots of money, from the looks of things. Once in the building, she didn't go directly to Uncle's apartment. Instead, she went to the one directly below it. She suspected there were things going on that she wasn't being told about, and she didn't like being kept in the dark. The apartment had a very flimsy lock *they probably couldn't find strong locks that matched the decor* and Betsy had no problem getting inside. There, she was surprised to find a sophisticated set-up of listening devices, all aimed upwards. After making sure there was nobody hiding in the apartment, Betsy made herself comfortable and listened to the conversation coming from upstairs. She didn't get to hear much, though. Despite the long wait at the hotel, she was still tired from the all-night drive from Ann Arbor, and listening to LaCroix talking baby-talk to his pet goldfish was hilarious at first but soon soothed her to sleep. In fact, she was so deeply asleep, that she never heard Ivy come into the apartment. Betsy jumped up, surprised and blinded, when Ivy turned on the lights. Ivy, surprised to find anybody there, jumped into a practiced attack position. "I warn you, I know judo, karate, and the names of 49 other martial arts!" Betsy, her mind still fogged, reached into her pocket, but before she could pull out whatever she was reaching for, Ivy, with a ear-splitting yell, pounced on her and knocked her unconscious. Black belts come in handy sometimes. Ivy searched Betsy's pockets and her bookbag, hoping to find some ID or something to tell her who she was and whose side she was on. In the bag, she found two thick binders. They seemed to contain printouts of every entry from the current war. Ivy turned to the last page. ----------------------------- To: betsy.vera@mailgw.uprod.music.umich.edu From: vmeachum@freenet.fsu.edu Subj: LaCroix Good work, Betsy. From the tapes received from Ivy, we know that LaCroix and the Cousins are convinced you are one of them. There's some confusion about the database, and we still don't know what happened to the fan mail. Go to LaCroix's, and see what you can find out. Good luck. ----------------------------- Ivy turned to the still unconscious Betsy. "Oops. Sorry about that." ----------------------------------------- Betsy betsy.vera@mailgw.uprod.music.umich.edu ----------------------------------------------------------------- -----------