Date: Sun, 7 Apr 1996 14:33:05 -0500 From: Lady Sushi Subject: "Baby, Baby" 1/1 "Baby, Baby" Susan "Don't Kill Me, Please" Schaefer (c) 1996, S. Schaefer usual disclaimers here I give permission to post, burn, archive, or douse liberally with baby powder. part one of one "Okay, Nick, just sit still while I inject this..." Nat bit her tongue as she pressed the plunger. Clearish liquid rushed into Nick's veins. "Are you sure this is going to...? Whoa... I'm dizzy." His eyes went too wide, head lolling. "The colors..." Nat sighed. "Just don't try to stand up." Suddenly a growl emanated from a nearby closet. The door shook. "Nick? I'm going to let him out now, okay? Just DON'T MOVE." She pulled down her welding mask and strapped on the heavy-duty lead-lined anti-radiation gloves. Taking hold of the door handle, Nat glanced at Nick one more time. He was nasally humming "Puff, The Magic Dragon" and swaying from side to side. "One, two, THREE!" She jerked the door open, and ran as quickly as her legs could carry her out the door. LaCroix tore out, ravenous after being locked in there for a month. The fang-picked cuffs still hung from his wrists. He warped over to Nick's swaying body and sunk his teeth in. In about 38.9 seconds, the morphine hit. "Wha--? Gilligan, where's the coconuts..." he mumbled. Lucien LaCroix hit the floor, victim of morphine on an empty stomach. "Glllllbbbblllllrrr..." LaCroix tried to open his eyes. Everything was blurred. He tried to stand up but something was in the way. Also, he realized his feet weren't touching the ground. He looked down. A tray-like things was around his waist, attached to a strange chair. He was also wearing a bib and diaper. A pacifier hung from his neck. The full impact didn't hit him for a moment, thanks to the opiate haze still trying to turn his brain to cherry jello. Still... "NICHOLAS!!!! GET OUT HERE RIGHT NOW!!!!! WHAT IN HADES HAVE YOU DONE TO ME?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?" Nick walked around a barrier, looking innocent. "Aw, does baby want his bottle?" He pulled out a bottle of blood, holding it with one of Nat's lead-lined gloves. Steam pressure suddenly caused the nipple to explode. LaCroix realized with a glazed look that his hands were once again bound, this time behind him where the locks couldn't be picked. Nick forced the bottle into his mouth... "AAAAAGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!" Boiling hot blood sprayed everywhere. "Dammit, what are you trying to do, kill me?" Nick tsked. "Mommy, I think baby wants you. He's pouting." "I am NOT pouting! I'm not pouting, I'm not I'mnotI'mnotI'mnotI'mnotI'mnot!" LaCroix glared at Nick, visions of staking in his head. Nat walked around the divider now. She held a book, CLIVE BARKER'S BEDTIME STORIES. "Does baby want a story?" she asked. For some reason the good coroner was dressed like Donna Reed. She sat in the chair by Lacroix. "Once upon a time, there was a master vampyre..." "NO!!! WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO ME?!?!?!?!? AAAAGGGHHHHH!!!! HELP! URS, VACHON, SOMEONE!!!! GET ME OUT OF-- oomph!" Nick had plunged the pacifier into LaCroix's mouth. He tasted the thin coating, recognized it. Oh, no. Not super glue... He started trying to scream again, jumping around in the high chair. It was, however, nailed to the floor. Nat looked at Nick. "I think he needs to be burped, don't you?" Nick nodded. "Would you like to do the honors, my dear mommy?" He held out a large rubber mallet. "Certainly, daddy." LaCroix gulped and waited. The mallet crashed into his back at full force, forcing up a morphine-flavored belch and ejecting the pacifier. More blood sprayed the room, this time from his torn lips. LaCroix howled in pain. "Ah, ah, ah! I think baby needs his diaper changed." Nat dragged out a large box of Depends. With a welder's torch she cut him free of the chair. Nick dragged LaCroix to an oversized version of a changing table. A large, open safety pin lay on it, dull tip shining. It just happened to be two feet long, and positioned just where his heart would be. Okay, that was it. LaCroix, despite his 0-gage tempered steel ankle cuffs, swung around and kicked Nick in the nose. He found himself on the floor next to a very bloody Nicholas. Nick, meanwhile, was trying to stop the torrent from his sinuses. Nat picked up a crossbow, aimed it at Lacroix, just in case. Eyes shifting from gold to red, LaCroix snapped his cuffs (and almost his bones). He stood, drooling, grabbed the safety pin. "Nicholas, I can stand stand sunlight, I can stand staking, I can even tolerate morphine. However," he paused for effect, licked his lips, "I CANNOT allow this humiliation." He raised the safety pin, prepared to bring it down into Nick's heart. A sudden click stopped him. He looked over just in time to see Nat pull the trigger on the crossbow. Nothing happened. She tried again. Still nothing. She grinned sheepishly. "Tee-hee. Jammed." LaCroix growled, deep in his throat. "I'll show you jammed!" He rushed at her with the safety pin. She broke into a dead run, and went out a side door. LaCroix followed. As soon as her went through the door he realized exactly how BAD of a mistake that was. He'd run into the Raven at peak fullness. The room he'd been in before was his radio booth, disguised well enough that he wouldn't know it in his rage. Face red, he scratched the bonnet on his head, glared. A sudden thought came to him. He turned around, looked into the booth. Nick stood there, grinning, pointing at the ON AIR sign glowing red. It took a minute for him to decide what to do. He grabbed Nat, who was doubled over in laughter, and dragged her back into the booth. She'd been laughing too hard to care what would happen. Now... With the two of them before him, LaCroix cracked his fingers, grinned with a malicious delight he hadn't felt in ages. Nat and Nick looked at each other, gulped. A few hours later, LaCroix walked out. The Raven was still packed. he was once again dressed in a black suit. However, behind him were Nat and Nick. On leashes. Wearing little baby-doll shirts and Depends. Unlife was good when you were LaCroix. THE END Cousin "Susan" Phoenix, Camera Fanatic of the Thong Throng Tell me what that "sleep" thing is again? phoenix@ionet.net *I'd be nothing if not cold.* ~~~Nigel I wanted a steak, not a STAKE.