Date: Sun, 1 Sep 1996 00:36:56 +0000 From: "Dianne T. DeSha" Reply-To: Cat.Goddess@pobox.com [well so much for kissing up to the ListHampsters... I think they *ate* the first post attempt! ;-ppp Here's try #2] --Dianne ------------------------------------------------------------------ Didn't think I'd make it in time for the Susan's B-day challenge this year, huh? (Neither did I! ) It's short, it's silly, but at least I didn't lock her in the trunk of the caddy like I did last year... be grateful for small mercies. ;-) Thanks to Jamie for permission, encouragement, and without whom there would have been no incident in the first place.... ***Happy B-Day, Susan! ;-)*** ****************************************************** "Stranger Than Reality" (1/1) (Or "What _Really_ Happened to the Dupont Circle Elevator Late Last Saturday Night") by Dianne la Mercenaire It was all so simple as to remove all pleasure from the act, but having seen the way in which carefully calculated, perfectly sure attacks could go suddenly and inexplicably awry when the concept of "War" entered into the equation, he chose to press the advantage he had. The attack would hardly be in his usual style, but he could not afford to indulge himself this time. These 'Listers' were a nasty, suspicious bunch with an inordinate fondness for this particular member-- her past inked into her skin in fading black lines-- and he preferred to leave no trace. Without the Eighth 'WarMistress', how could these abominable, insulting, humiliating travesties of warped reality be continued? This, of course, was his goal. The chance to also destroy the self- styled 'Mercenary' who'd built a lucrative career by fabricating obscene and ludicrous flashbacks and passing them off as *his past*... well that was simply a pleasant bonus. (Scene after scene of him mooning in unrequited love over one of Nicholas' followers, of him rejecting Divia's tutelage over and over again down the centuries in a pathetic and ridiculous search for redemption-- indeed! Such nonsense! Surely they all realized that. After all, Divia had been sealed in an Egyptian tomb the whole time. That much truth was now common knowledge, no? At the very least that slip threw the reliability of this mercenary's 'research' into doubt among even his most serious detractors. He could almost let the incident slide, especially since he had taken his own revenge just recently, except for one small (very small!) thing... It may not have been purple. It may have tried to pass for 'period'. There *may* have even been a certain level of class about the whole thing... ... but she was the first to have put him in a thong, oh these many 'Wars' ago, and for that she would *never* be forgiven.) He saw the pair stumble out of the last train from Vienna (VA). Poised on the overhead walkway at the disused southern end of the station, he watched from his high perch as the attendant closed the platform behind them. As they turned down the corridor to the elevator and the Station Manager pulled closed the gates guarding the long, long escalator exit, he made his move. It had been centuries since he'd taken proper pleasure from the jump and startled gasp of a mortal who'd never seen him coming. "Sorry," the man reached automatically to re-open the gate. "I didn't see you...." "No, you didn't." The manager looked slightly puzzled as his brain dutifully accepted this new information. "You never saw me at all. But everyone has left and you need to close up the station." LaCroix glanced at the flickering monitor screen where the two women could be seen stumbling blearily down the long, deserted corridor. "_Now_," he added. ******************************* "...Jamie, you'll always be my MercBaby," Dianne said reassuringly as they stepped into the elevator. Luckily for her vertigo-challenged charge there was a handy alternative to the two-hundred-foot escalator-from-hell Dianne usually used. "But when the two-year- old daughter of a _NatPacker_ takes one look at a group of Listers and decides to see what she can get from them... well I have a responsibility to foster that sort of entrepreneurial spirit...." "Are we moving?" The edge in Jamie's voice focused Dianne's attention faster than the non-sequitor. She strained to listen, but heard only a very soft humming that could well be the air conditioning. "I _think_ so...." ******************************* "There is an override to disconnect the elevator's power and air...," the ancient vampire prompted. It wasn't a question. He was far too old and powerful for trivial matters like logic or OSHA standards to get in his way. If he wanted a Freak Elevator Accident, a Freak Elevator Accident he would have. He allowed himself a small smile of approval as the station manager dug into his pocket and led the way to the main elevator control panel, the jingling of his keys echoing down the long, deserted corridor. ********************************* Joe the Platform Attendant emerged from the lower lever, looking back proudly at the now-darkened, yet meticulously-attended platform. If he kept working at it he was sure he could make the day shift by the end of the year. Popping his head into the station managers booth, he was surprised to find it empty. "Percy?" he called, hearing his voice echoing eerily through the vault of the empty station. Shrugging to himself, he gathered his things together and prepared to leave. "Percy, I'm going! See you tomorrow!" But there was no response. As he turned to go, a small, flashing red light on the main board caught his eye. There are moments in life when we all make decisions that seem trivial-- even meaningless-- at the time, but which turn out to be turning points in history. Times when souls are tried, courage screwed to the sticking point^, and the lowliest attendant can risk the chances of promotion and escape from a mushroom-like pallor to become a hero.... Conveniently enough for our story, this turned out to be just one of those times. Joe gingerly pressed the intercom button... -------- ^ [It's Shakespeare and it is _not_ obscene, you filthy-minded little deviants! :-ppp] *********************** "Are you moving?" The voice from the wall beside them made Dianne jump. Jamie, whimpering softly, was already well past that point. Dianne thought as she reflexively put her hands over the MercBaby's eyes. <_Einstein_ to the rescue...!> Realizing that blinkering Jamie was, for once, of absolutely no practical use, Dianne dropped her hands and reached for the intercom. "I don't know! _You're_ the ones with the controls!" Suddenly the elevator gave an unmistakable lurch and resumed its ascent. ******************************* Not knowing any better, the merc absently attributed the anguished howl of a bi-millenial vampire watching his prey slip irrevocably from his grasp up a darkened elevator shaft as the cries of a large dog suffering some type of severe gastrointestinal distress. ******************************** After gently convincing Jamie to release her grip long enough for Dianne to catch a quick breath or two, Dianne did so, and they both managed to reach street level without further incident. Jamie immediately dug into her pocket for her cigs, while Dianne tried to gauge the prevailing wind patterns... both blissfully unaware that Percy the Station Manager was already well on his way to being admitted to George Washington Hospital, suffering from a severe and unexplained case of sudden-onset anemia. (Flowers may be sent to room 0811....) ****************************************************** Disclaimers: *Every single word of this is absolutely true!* (Well... except for the parts that I didn't actually _see_... and the elevator conversation was pretty heavily edited to run in the time allowed and formatted to fit your screen... and the Metro employee characters were only very loosely based on real people I think I remember seeing around as we wandered through at 2 a.m.... and the rest of it was actually only a dramatization of what I'm sure _must_ have been actual events... But other than that it's *The Absolute Truth!* (Coming soon to an X-File near you....) Further legal notes: Although I'm sure there must be a fairly happy Platform Attendant _somewhere_ in the DC system named 'Joe', no claims are hereby being made that said 'Joe' was at the Dupont Circle station on the night in question or, in fact, that he has ever even been there at all. And if he does exist and was there, then this isn't him, 'cuz we forgot to get a permission slip from him shortly before we almost *hurtled to our fiery deaths*... (or, well... at least got delayed a whole extra *minute* on the way out...). No elevators were harmed in the writing of this story. And yes, I named the supporting cast after our very own ListHampsters (Go Joe and Percy! ;-) in the sycophantic hope of making the story go through intact and in time. Dianne Dianne la Mercenaire... -*- "I'd rather laugh with the sinners than cry with the saints. The sinners are much more fun...." --Billy Joel, _Only the Good Die Young_