========================================================================= ------------------[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 a