Bribery Supplies by Diane Echhis ------------------------------------------------------------- Memo: To: Jenny and Fellow Natpackers Subject: Bribery and Sustenance It occurred to me yesterday between the office and driving the boys to the doctor that you are going to need bribery goodies and sustenance while in Toronto. Therefore, I have shipped via FedEx, and in care of Don Bassingthwaite, the following: 4 New York Style Chocolate Cheesecakes 4 Amaretto-Amaretti Chocolate Cheesecakes 4 Countess Toulouse-Lautrec French Chocolate cakes Enjoy! If more supplies are needed, let me know--I can always whip up a Key West Rum Cake. Karen - Mother of five (Three children, two cats) westonk@uwwvax.uww.edu ------------------------------------------------------------- ************************************************************* It Was a Dark and Stormy Night by darkangel I scanned through the printout slowly, chuckling to myself. Ah, the joys of computer logs! I tucked the papers into my jacket pocket and strolled through the door. I had work to do. An hour later I found myself in a dark, smoky club. It was great atmosphere, really. A great place to meet creatures of the night. I was still giggling over the cliched-ness of it all when LaCroix sat, no, _appeared_ across from me in the booth. "This list of yours better be good." His face twisted into a grudging smile. "Although, I must say that your little scheme is quite Machiavellian." I arched an eyebrow. "Machiavellian? So tell me, do you actually respect the man or was that some sort of hidden insult?" His expression didn't changed, but I got the feeling he was amused. "Touche." He extended a hand, palm up. "The list, please." I mirrored his gesture. "The payment, please." "Oh, yes, that." He feigned surprise and pulled a thick envelope from his wallet. "You ask a high price." I laughed. "As if you can't afford it." Too casually, he smiled. "You should be careful, young one. I could quite easily take that which you could ill afford to lose." What a way to be told that I could be lunch. I had to admire the man's, er, vampire's style. I simply smiled in return, feeling oddly calm. "Come, LaCroix, if you had wanted to kill me you would have done so by now." "And ruin the pleasure of toying with you? Tsk, tsk, dark angel. You underestimate the chase." He reached across the table to run a finger along my jawline in a parody of affection. "And, at the moment, you amuse me. Thus I will spare you--for now." He leaned closer. "Ah, you would make such a fine addition to my followers." His voice was silky. "Is there nothing I can do to convince you to stop this greedy madness of yours?" I squelched the temptation to press his hand against my cheek, to kiss his wrist, to close my eyes and whisper oaths of devotion. I shuddered and pulled away from his hand. No, that was what he wanted me to do. I lit a cigarette as he laughed, and barely kept my hands from shaking. Was it possible to want someone this badly, or was it the vampire charm? It must be the charm, I thought. After all, from a pure looks point of view I preferred Janette over every other being, mortal or immortal, involved in this silly battle... I smiled, calm again somehow. "I'll let you in on a little secret, LaCroix. I'm not in it for money." "Oh?" As if he didn't know. "Then why?" I leaned towards him and grinned. "It's the freedom to be my own person, to not have to take orders. Especially from ancient and impervious creatures who could care less for their followers. As to why I'm not a Die-Hard, well..." I shrugged. "I might as well get paid for enjoying myself." I handed him the printout. "This is a list of everyone who's used the VR booth--except the Mercenaries--and what they did while there." As he scanned it, I stood to leave. "Enjoy." Suddenly his cold hand was around my wrist. "Wait. I have another job for you." He looked delighted, and I knew that someone was in trouble. "It seems Cousin Candice has been betraying my affections." Oh, that's right! I thought to myself. Candice had paid for an unusually mushy scene starring her, Nick, and a deserted Turkish harem... "You know her better than anyone involved in this war. I think it's apropos that you take care of her for me." He was still grinning. "I will deal with the rest of my errant... Nieces." "Define 'take care of her.'" Practical jokes were on thing, but anything harsher was out of my league. "You know how to torture her. So have a good time with it." He shrugged. "Whatever you feel is necessary." He rummaged around in his jacket pocket and took out a thick roll of bills. "This should more than cover your fee." I looked at it and thumbed the top few bills. Hundreds. "Thank you." This job would be fun! He nodded. "Now, dark angel, I believe you have work to do?" It was obviously a dismissal. After I was clear of the club, I allowed myself to dance my way to the car. Finally, a job worth doing! ************************************************************* Life of the Party by Amparo Bertram Amparo left Richard roaming the buffet spread, in FoD heaven, and curled up in a corner of Don Bassingthwaite's apartment with a good book, taking occasional sips from her cup of soda. A while into her reading she noticed the others become excited about something, but it didn't seem to have anything to do with her, so she only paid it peripheral attention. She wasn't the best at socializing with a large group of people. The rest of the NatPack clustered around Jennie and Sharon, tossing out suggestions for script rewrites. Soon they had all volunteered for parts they wanted to play in their "Nat- in-Jail" sequence, encouraging each other every time a new idea was revealed. "Is everyone covered?" Jennie asked. Betsy looked around, spotting her driving companion sitting alone, out of the loop, oblivious to the world. "What about Pod? What part should she play?" "You know, she reminds me of that officer in `Capital Offense.' The one reading a romance novel while on guard duty," Selma put in. Sharon typed that information into her laptop. "Perfect. May as well go with what she's good at. Amparo Bertram--Natalie's guard." Amparo, hearing her name, looked up at the rest of the faction. "Hmm? Did I miss something?" "You don't mind being a police officer, do you?" Betsy asked. "Not at all." "Great," said Jennie. "Oh, by the way... Can you sing?" Amparo frowned in confusion, wondering why anyone would be singing in the middle of a _Forever Knight_ episode, but shrugged. "Yeah, I guess so. No problem." "Excellent. Why don't you come over here and give us your input?" Amparo cast a hesitant glance at Natalie, whom she had so much wanted to meet and now found herself too shy to approach. She couldn't make a fool of herself if she didn't say anything, after all. On the other hand, as Betsy had assured her, the NatPack didn't bite. This was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. She slid her book aside and joined the others. "What song did you have in mind?" ************************************************************* Change of Command by Jennie Hayes Jennie hung up the phone excitedly. "OK, I just talked to LJC. She's not happy about the season pilot script putting Janette in jail like that, so she's willing to make a deal. If we allow her to rewrite that part of the script, she'll put us in contact with some people who can give us pointers on directing. On top of that, she's got friends in the production of the movie "Sandman" who are looking for a good director. She thinks they can spirit Mr. L. away without doing him any serious harm. They'll keep him busy in LA with preliminary meetings for the production. And then, while all is in confusion, in step Valerie and myself. I get to be second unit director! If we act official enough and get the right people in the production office to smooth our way in, we're home free. LJC's working on those contacts now." "This isn't gonna work. They're going to *know*," Amy fretted, "and *then* we're in trouble!" "Thanks for the vote of confidence. Anyhow, LJC is sending someone up who should be able to help us a bit, to be another assistant director. She's got stage experience, and she's willing to help us look good, here. With her input and Valerie's background, maybe we can pull it off. Assuming things stay confused enough... That's your job." ---------***---------- "I'm beginning to think it was a good thing that we packed everything under the sun coming up here!" Di giggled. "We're gonna wind up using it!" "OK, does everyone know their parts?" Valerie asked. "Here we go; the limo's arrived." "See ya later! I'll probably get to the set at about three!" Betsy yelled from the other room. "Bye!" They all chorused. They trooped out the front door of Don's apartment building and down to the waiting car en masse. They presented a very different sight than the relaxed, comfortable bunch who had visited the Coroner's office and thrown the huge birthday party. Everyone wore smart business clothes now and was trying on a business attitude. This didn't last long, however. "I get to ride backwards!" Jennie crowed. Amy shuddered. "How can you do that without getting carsick?" "I dunno, I just don't. I'm glad you're being the actual director, Valerie; you've got a *much* better idea what to do with the part than I would. I'd be just realizing that I haven't a clue what to do now!" Jennie was beginning to chatter a bit fast, and Amy wondered if that was nervousness or the fact that she'd been on the phone with LJC so much lately. Valerie just shrugged and commented philosophically, "The worst that can happen is they realize who we are and kick us out. At least we'll have tried!" "Hey, Sharon?" Pod leaned forward and peered at what Sharon was doing. "What *are* you doing with that?" Everyone looked at Sharon. She was systematically tearing an empty Styrofoam cup to shreds and putting the pieces inside it. She shrugged. "Bad habit, I guess." ---------***---------- The takeover went remarkably smoothly. LJC had done her work well, and nobody on the set questioned the new 'director'. Apparently 'Mr. L.' had left rather quickly once the deal from LA was firm, although Jennie was starting to wonder if the 'deal' had been a bit 'firmer' than she'd intended. No, she didn't want to think about that possibility. All she knew was that the Ravenette had an *awful* lot of connections. Each of the Natpackers took over a position within the production staff, most of which were 'temporary augmentations to aid in dealing with all the fans present.' It worked beautifully; by the end of the first night they had several of the basic script changes they'd wanted in place and had worked out a tentative filming schedule. "Ooh, it's about time to call it quits for the night," Jennie yawned, stretching lazily, then she stopped and looked around the office. And counted heads. "Wait, did Betsy ever make it here?" "I haven't seen her all day," Elaine replied, "do you think she got lost?" "I hope she didn't get into any trouble. There *are* Cousins about, you know," Pod put in. "Oh, she probably had trouble getting in or something, or couldn't find this place, and went back to Don's. We've had all of the phone lines busy most of the day, after all!" Valerie noted. The rest of the pack looked a little guilty as they packed it in for the night. -----***----- Later that night (morning, actually,) at Don's, they were rather upset to find that Betsy hadn't been seen since she'd left, right on time, that afternoon. "Hmm... Maybe we should call the police..." Amy suggested, picking up the phone. "She's been gone too long, and this *is* a strange city." "Perhaps she called Nat, check with her first," Selma suggested. "Oh, yeah, good idea," Amy said, dialing the numbers. -----***----- "Yes, it's a gray Escort, and it's got one of those little yellow signs in the back window. I think it says something like, 'Who's on Board'," Amy said into the phone. "Yes. I think she said it made it easier to find her car. No, none of us know the license plate, but it's probably a Michigan one. We're just worried, we don't *know* anything's happened. She could be lost, or she could have run into a friend or something. Yes. OK, thanks!" She hung up. "Nat is going to pass the information on to Nick. He can get the officers to keep an eye out for her. If she's still missing tomorrow night, we should call the station directly." She sighed. "OK, lets get some rest." Sharon suggested. -----***----- The following day, Sharon looked up from her lunch, just in time to catch the traffic report on the TV. "Hey! Look!" she yelled, startling everyone in the room. "What? You live in New York and you've never seen traffic like that before?" Pod jibed. "Oh, wait, you're not used to it moving that fast, are you?" "No! Look in the center of the screen! Isn't that Betsy's car?" "Oh, you're right!" Amy started to say, as the scene flickered out to be replaced with the reporter's face. "It *did* look like hers, I thought I saw blue Michigan plates, and I know I saw the yellow thing in the back window! Let's call the station and find out where that was!" she grabbed phone and phone book. ---*--- "Yes, OK, thank you anyhow. Good-bye." Amy hung up the phone, a dejected look on her face. "They traced down the footage, but it was taken at 7:00 this morning. She could be anywhere in the city by now," she reported. Jennie sighed and looked out the window. "I suppose we should call and tell Nick," she said wearily. ************************************************************* Breakfast on the Set by Cousin Candice Candice thought groggily as she turned into the blue Probe into the parking lot of the main set. Granted it was 10:30 and she was about an hour late, Cousinly duty said she should get a head start on reading the script, but her night of carousing said she should stay in bed. Candice smiled to no one in particular with that thought as she stepped out of her rental car, a little sad that she couldn't have driven the Jeep up for filming. She buttoned her black blazer over her white t-shirt and denim jeans, adjusted the rim of her black sunglasses, and grabbed the small brown leather bag containing her ward's breakfast and her own. Candice walked at a brisk pace onto the set, thanking whoever was watching out for her that she didn't ever suffer from a hangover, and looked for the sleek, fuzzy, gray form somewhere on the set. Tuppence had set up camp somewhere in the studio--after all, she did have her own agenda, and she couldn't have Candice getting in her way--all the better for Candice, for she too had her own plans. So it didn't surprise Candice when she found the cat--entrusted into her care by her Uncle, sitting in her chair--given to her by the studio with "Candice" stenciled on the back. "Alright cat--outta my chair." Candice scratched behind Tuppence's ears, making up for disturbing the cat's comfortable position. Tuppence lingered a few moments more on the chair and then hopped onto the raised table infront of the chair where Candice had laid her bag and nosed-open the drawstring. "Oh, so you want your breakfast, too... Huh? Well gimme a second to get settled and we'll have breakfast together, okay?" Candice smiled and eyed the cat for some kind of response. Tuppence was no ordinary cat, she'd known that from the first night when Uncle had called her for an early evening chat about a week ago. Candice closed her eyes and shuddered at that particular memory. Tuppence flashed her golden eyes at Candice and closed them, almost nodding her fuzzy little head. Taking that as a 'yes,' Candice went off to one of the gophers and obtained her copies of the "approved scripts." Being a "special assistant writer" for the producer of the show, Candice received every single script written, re- written, and re-re-written, until it was good enough for Unc- -the Producer's liking. In the meantime, Tuppence had been up to some bit of nastiness for the Fanged One in the costume department (-- shedding fur as it were) and had resurfaced the minute Candice had sat down in her chair with her black coffee. Tuppence circled the chair and hopped up onto Candice's lap purring softly, quite happy with herself for some reason unknown to Candice as of yet. Then Tuppence hopped back up on the table, staring at the bag. "Right then, breakfast for you.." Candice pulled out the cat food she had bought along with her own breakfast--California rolls and more coffee. She opened up the tin and _prayed_ that Tuppence wouldn't mind too much eating off a paper plate (she'd forgotten to buy a proper dish.) Tuppence looked at Candice, then looked at the plate, then looked at Candice as if to say 'Uncle will _definitely_ be hearing about this,' and reluctantly started in on her meal. She started thumbing through the schedule of events--filming wise for the day and stopped dead when she got up to the "Flatfoots" part of the day's episode. "Uncle isn't supposed to get caught, he *never* loses track of his things, let alone his sword pin... What the hell has been goi..." Before Candice could finish mumbling aloud, a loud _Achoo!_ rang out from behind the costume rack and Jennie Hayes came running out sneezing up a storm with Valerie in tow yelling "Your scene's next! Jennie!!" Candice couldn't help but laugh at the annoyed expressions on Sharon Himmanen and Heather Templeman's faces--it's no fun waiting around in costume having to wait on *one* person, and it was apparent that neither Heather or Sharon were in any kind of mood to be sympathetic. Suddenly Candice looked over to where Tuppence was-- correction, *had* been sitting, then felt a furry presence around her ankles. "*You* wouldn't have had anything to do with that now would you?" Tuppence looked up at Candice with eyes as wide as a kitten's, feigning innocence oh-so-well. She merely grinned down at that cat, knowing full well that the cat was responsible. After the realization that filming had been taken over essentially by Ravenettes and Nat-Packers, keeping Uncle's head above water was getting more difficult by the page, so Candice fwapped herself with the pages, took a deep breath, and leaned back in her chair. How she _wished_ more Cousins could have been around. There simply wasn't time enough to go through each scene and rework lines and actions to suit Uncle's purposes. The more she thought about it, the more Candice became enraged at Karin and Jennise--the _supposed_ writers for the show. They were COUSINS for crying out crap in the rain!! (sorry, I felt the need to embellish)... Well one was a Cousin and the other was his daughter, but... Well Same Difference! They were supposed to be working _for_ Uncle, not against him! How could they let their co-writers get so out of hand? Candice sat in her chair and fumed for a bit, and she glared at anyone who made eye contact with her, or even crossed her line of sight. And then it came to her... "We'll just have ourselves a nice, civilized conversation..." Candice thought aloud as her brow wrinkled, she sank lower into her chair, grabbed her cellular phone out of her bag, and dialed Dianne DeSha's number. A few minutes later, and a pin from Tiffany's later, Candice had a diversion. That accomplished, she returned to her pile of papers, some of which were for next week's shooting. Candice glanced at a few titles and some of the ones that required her to "do some acting"... A Little Action Drama and The Story of C caught her eye. Interesting. She'd read The Story of O, and since this was a PG-13 show, she wondered what the writer had in store for that particular episode. Candice looked at her watch and jumped out of her chair, Candice needed to find a certain truck and round up some misguiding leads if she was going to pull this off. That would take a while, plus she had to write up a extra scene or two and have that delivered to the other set that was currently being filmed on. It also needed to be approved, but that wouldn't be much trouble seeing that she could just get a hold of the correctly colored paper and type directly on it. There was also the matter of planting other distractions around the set. Tuppence meowed at her and suddenly Candice was drawn into the cat's stare, and a voice echoed into her head Candice shook her head and stared slack jawed at Tuppence. No, no ordinary cat indeed. ************************************************************* A Car's Cameo by Amparo Bertram Amparo finished up her last scene for the time being and took a much-needed break. She hadn't realized acting could be such tedious work, and all she had to do was stay in the background and guard prisoners. She didn't even want to imagine how tired the main characters must be. Speaking of whom, she had seen on the shooting schedule that they would be filming a Caddy scene not too far away. She hadn't had a chance to see The Car in action yet, and she certainly didn't want to miss it. She quickly found the specified location and stood out of the way, observing. She hoped costuming wouldn't mind that she was still wearing her uniform, but she loved feeling like such a part of everything. Besides--she glanced down and brushed at an invisible speck of dust--it looked rather flattering on her, if she did say so herself. "You! Come stand over here." She looked up to see the director pointing at her. "Who, me? I'm not in this scene." "You are now. I've decided I want a cop walking by in the background, and you're already in costume. I don't have all night." "Sure. Whatever you say." She listened carefully to his instructions. All she had to do was stroll down the sidewalk, projecting an image of vigilance. Nothing to it. She heard "Action!" and began her walk, taking in the details of her surroundings like a good policewoman. Suddenly she caught sight of a familiar dark gray Escort driving around a corner and disappearing. Wasn't that--? No, it couldn't be! Could it? She had certainly spent enough time in Betsy's car, she should recognize it. It was too late to do anything about it now, the car was long gone. she thought, eyeing the cameras surreptitiously in the guise of checking for crime. She nearly grinned at the idea of Betsy being in the shot, despite getting lost. ************************************************************* Deus ex Machina: The Leader of the Pack by Tuppence transcribed by Diane Echelbarger Tuppence slipped into the costume shop through the window again, and prowled around the space, looking for more clues to how she could assist the Fanged One. As she stalked past a rack of costumes, a familiar scent caught her nose, and she hissed. *That one!* That *Jennie,* that was always luring her pet, Diane, away for hours, sometimes *days*--Her ears flattened to her skull, and she approached the hanging rack carefully. A moment later, she had identified the garment to which the hateful scent clung. It was a long, dark-green trench coat. She hissed again, then remembered something from one of the few times her human had convinced the Jennie-human to enter Tuppence's home. The Jennie-human was *allergic* to cats! And she was one of the ones the Fanged One disliked. So, he would *want* her to make the Jennie-human unhappy-- Her hiss became a thoughtful rumble as she reared up and snagged the coat with both front claws. She leaned her weight on it, and the garment slid free of the hanger and landed in a heap on the ground. She burrowed into it, until she was completely wrapped in the plaid flannel lining. Now, she needed only to shed... Yes, to shed, that was the difficult part. She was impeccably groomed, as always, and did not have a great many loose hairs to lose. Now how... Her head came up, suddenly, and she gave a little "yow" as inspiration struck. Of course! It was so *simple!* Tuppence crouched lower, closed her eyes, and thought, intently, of... The **VET.** In less than a minute, a thick cloud of sleek, gray hair was released inside the coat. She rolled around a few times, to be sure all the coat was well covered, then left the costume shop, purring in satisfaction. Nothing like catching two birds with one pounce to put her in a good mood--and the Candice-human would be here soon, with breakfast... ***** Some time later, on the set... "achoo! Achoo! _Achoo!_ *Achoo!* ACHOO! _ACHOO!_ *ACHOO!*" Jennie sneezed. She itched, and her nose was clogging. "Hey," she sniffled, "I tought du said dere weren't ady adimals on de sed?" "There aren't," Valery replied. "I checked." "My dose says dere are," Jennie snuffled. "Where's by Benadryl?" She pulled off her coat and walked over to her purse. As she tossed the coat on her personally-monogrammed cast chair (Mr. P. had had one made for every FKFIC-Ler who had worked on the show), she noticed something on the plaid lining. A cat hair. And another... And another... *Dozens* of short gray hairs... "Ay!" she cried through her completely-blocked nose. "By goat is govered bit gat air!" She grabbed the Benadryl from her purse in one hand and began brushing her clothes off with the other. "I deed a shower. I'll be bag zood..." "But, Jennie!" Valery called. "You're scene's next! Jennie! *Jennie!*" Her only answer was another explosive series of sneezes. ************************************************************* Chaos, Incorporated by Maureen Wynn (with a little help from my friends!) Maureen's face was buried in her hands, and her shoulders were shaking. Tami stopped just inside the door, startled, and wondered if she should leave. "Um, Maureen?" she said uncertainly. Maureen looked up, and Tami was relieved to see that she was laughing, not crying. "Come on in, Tami," Maureen said between giggles, "I was expecting you." "So, what's the joke?" Tami asked, sitting down in the chair next to Maureen's desk. "I just heard that there was a little food fight down at the commissary. A Knightie got a Cousin in the face with a lemon meringue pie!" Maureen grinned, "Just one of the many joys of working security on this set! That reminds me... Excuse me a second." She picked up the phone and dialed. "Hi, Pete, it's Maureen. Listen, tell the caterers not to provide any more desserts with whipped cream or custard, or anything like that. No sense in providing temptation to people who don't need it anyway! Thanks, Pete." She hung up the phone, and turned to the other mercenary. "Are you ready to start?" "Sure! I'm just sorry I couldn't start sooner." Maureen said, "Oh, I understand, you weren't the only person with prior commitments when I called. I know it was short notice, but when Mr. P. called and told me his regular security firm had unexpectedly quit, and he needed a new crew immediately, I had to pull together a team as quickly as I could. It's worked out, for the most part, although I wish I had more Mercenaries in the crew." "What's it like--besides the food fights?" Tami asked, grinning. "You know that Chinese curse that says, 'May you live in interesting times'? Well, working here is always interesting! Thank goodness *all* the list members aren't here to film their parts at the same time." Maureen shuddered, thinking of the... Complications... That could arise with certain people in the same room at the same time. "I thought, at first, the worst thing would be the animals; you *never* know what's going to happen on a set with animals involved. But the tarantula wranglers were very professional. It helps that the little critters were de-venomed. I wish the same could be said for those South American tree frogs! Those red ones were cute, but their poison sacs can't be removed without killing the animals, so they had to be handled _very_ carefully. That was the biggest headache... Except maybe for the monkeys... Or the trained dogs that weren't *nearly* well enough trained..." "So, lots of problems," Tami said, frowning slightly. "Oh, yeah, but _lots_ of fun, too! Having input on the episode is great--I even wrote myself into a couple of scenes!" "Cool!" "Why don't I show you around, and get you started..." Maureen began, when she was interrupted by a voice on her headset. "Security Two calling Mother." Maureen said, "Excuse me, Tami..." On the headset, "Mother here, what's up?" "We have an unscheduled delivery at Gate One. Could you check the invoices for a load of costumes? The invoice the driver has says Lederhosen?" "What? Why would we need lederhosen?!" Tami looked up, and tried to get Maureen's attention. "Oh, I forgot to give you something..." she said, digging into her backpack. She pulled out some blue pages in a clear plastic cover, and handing them to the Security Chief, said, "As I came through the production offices, someone asked me to give you this. It's a new scene... I read it while I was waiting to be passed through the gate. You might want to read it..." Puzzled, Maureen took the pages, and started to read: INT. - LACROIX'S LIVING ROOM TRACK IN ON: LaCroix, lounging on a black leather sofa, TV remote control in his hand. He's nodding off while watching TV. PAN TO: Television playing scene from "The Sound of Music". DISSOLVE TO: NIGHTMARE "What the...!" Maureen exclaimed, reading further. "Demon children in lederhosen... Goat-herds... Yodel-a-hee-WHAT?! Who wrote this?" She looked up at Tami. "Mr. P. *approved* this scene?" She shook her head. "This place gets weirder by the day..." She toggled on her headset, and started to say, "Mother to Security Two..." when she was interrupted by screams coming from the east end of the lot. "Hold on Security Two... Mother to Security Three! What's going on?" "Security Three here... I don't know what's going on, I had to take a bathroom break!" "Well, zip it up and get out there!" she said. "Security Four, where are you?" "Security Four, on my way, boss! Uh, oh... I see smoke!" "Smoke!" Maureen said, bolting from the office, followed by Tami. "Mother to all available units, emergency on the set. Report to Area Three immediately!" she said, running toward the east end of the lot, where the big enclosed sound stage was located. Coming closer, she could see smoke pouring from the open loading door of the stage. When she got a whiff of the smoke, she started to cough, and quickly backed up. she thought, dismayed. She looked at the smoke continuing to pour from the building. <*Big* ones, too!> She looked around at the pandemonium, looking for her security crew. Several members of her team ran up to her. "What do we do now, Maureen? The firemen aren't going to be able to do anything about *this*, are they?" "No," she replied, thinking hard. "What we need are air handlers." She grabbed the arm of one of the security crew, and said, "Start calling around to chemical laboratory suppliers, and rent us two or three of the biggest laboratory air handlers they have. Offer them whatever they want--we're already behind schedule as it is!" She looked at another Security crew member. "Steff, start getting people out of the area, and see if you can find a gas mask to get in there and deactivate that thing." She suddenly focused on one of the crew standing there. "Dianne, who's covering Gate One?" Dianne looked surprised. "No one--you said there was an emergency! I got here as fast as I could..." Maureen had a sinking feeling. "The front gate isn't secured?" She looked again at the smoke still coming out of the sound stage, and said "Diversionary tactics! Oh, no...!" and turned and ran for the west gate, hoping that truck was still where it was supposed to be. Arriving out of breath, with her staff pounding up behind her, she looked around for the truck. "Where is it?" she asked Dianne. "Where's what?" Dianne answered, confused. "The *truck*. The one with the *lederhosen*." "I don't know. It was here just... But what could they have done? I've only been gone a couple of minutes!" "I guess we'll find out soon enough," Maureen said grimly. They were to find out very soon, indeed... Mr. P. sat on the floor of the truck, trying to hear his captors through the thick fabric of the hood that covered his head. All he could hear was whispers, but it sounded like the kidnappers were arguing. he thought. He strained to hear what they were saying, but they were quiet now. As the truck sped away from the set, all his stunned mind could think was Maureen sat at her desk, gloomily waiting to see if her staff could find any more clues left behind by the kidnappers. She looked again at the items that were in the satchel that apparently fell off the truck as it was speeding away... Several books, an advance catalog for the American Library Association's summer conference, pens and pencils galore, and a pencil case that had printed on it, "Librarians DON'T do it Quietly!" She picked up one of the books, _The Transitive Vampire--A Handbook of Grammar for the Innocent, the Eager, and the Doomed_, and looked inside to see if, against all hope, the owner's name was written inside. She tossed down the book again when Steff entered the office, and looked up at her questioningly. "Nothing, nada, zip!" Maureen groaned, and closed her eyes. Steff said, "Well, at least we know one of the kidnappers was a librarian, right?" "Oh, right, and that just narrows down the field a whole hell of a lot, doesn't it? *How* many factions have members who are librarians? Not to mention the fact that we found this satchel awfully easy--it may have been planted to lead us in the wrong direction." "That's true." They gloomed together for a little while, then Maureen said, "Well, I better go let the Assistant Director know that he's in charge. This is going to be *fun*--Mr. P. was the only one who could keep the list-members in line. That wuss of an A.D. is never going to be able to control the chaos." "Well, that's why we signed up, right? For all the *fun*!" Steff said with a wicked grin. As the two women left the office, Maureen could be heard asking her fellow Mercenary "Hey, you want a promotion? I could change your title to "Chief Listmember Wrangler..." ************************************************************* Double Take by Dianne T. DeSha Dianne chuckled quietly to herself as Maureen left. She'd really bought the "duh, I thought it was an emergency" act? There was a certain advantage to working with those who trusted you, she mused. And an even greater advantage when you were amongst those who would understand such a betrayal... As long as it was well-paid for. Volunteering for Maureen's security squad (sheesh, Maureen should *know* Mercs never _volunteer_ for anything!) had been a piece of cake. Leaving a crucial gate unguarded for just a moment was almost too easy to be worth mentioning. She pulled the small cellular phone from her pocket as she stepped around a corner. Dialing from memory she waited until her employer picked up. She got no greeting and expected none. "It's done," she said succinctly. Then she added, "I'll expect prompt payment?" There was a click as the line went dead. Dianne chuckled again. All this cloak-and-dagger bit was most likely unnecessary, but if it made the boss happy, why not? She quickly joined the rest of the security force in their futile attempt to find some trace of Mr. P. After all, she considered double-dipping a high art form; why shouldn't the Mercs get paid both to run set security and to disrupt the proceedings? ************************************************************* A Substitute by Sandra Gray "That Caddy is still missing?" asked the director, Mr. L. "Man, someone is gonna pay for this!" He sighed, then said to the assistant director, "Okay, we're going to change the day's shooting scenes to shots that don't involve the car. Make the changes. In the meantime, I'm going to Mr. P. about this problem. Maybe he can do something to get the pranksters to return the car." The assistant director wandered off in one direction while Mr. L. walked off in the direction of Mr. P.'s office. Sandra Gray, who had been standing nearby eavesdropping on the conversation, hurried to catch up to him. "Mr. L.," she said. He looked over at her briefly, but continued to walk. "Whatever the problem is, see the assistant director. He'll take care of it." "It's about the Caddy." Mr. L. stopped and looked at her. "You know where it is?!" "No!" stammered Sandra. "But... But I know someone in the city who has a car that looks exactly like the Caddy you use on the show." "You're saying this person would be willing to loan us his or her car?" "Well, he might. I could ask him." "We'd take good care of it. I'll put it in writing. I'll write it in blood!" * * * * * * * "No way," said Nick. "But Mr. L. promised he'd take good care of it. It might make a difference to how our proposals are treated," said Sandra. "No." "I bet he could be convinced to let you be on the set... To keep a watchful eye on your car. Besides, it's only until the other car is returned." "Has the other car been reported stolen?" "No. They think it's been taken as a prank. They expect it back soon or..." "Or what?" "Well, I guess if it's gone too long, they will report it stolen." "They should have done it already." "Well, maybe you could convince the director to do that. He finds out you're a cop--" "I'd just as soon he didn't find that out." "Well, maybe you... Or Ron could turn up something on the missing Caddy while you were on the set." Nick frowned. "Might learn other useful things too." He looked at Sandra and sighed. "If they can give me a good enough contract against damage, I'll do it." Sandra smiled. "I'm sure they'll be very accommodating. Thanks, Nick. Let's get over to the set." Sandra walked away. Nick sighed again and, taking out his car keys, followed. ************************************************************* Kidnapped! (1) (or ...Where's Nancy Drew when you need her, or the Hardy Boys at that???) by Cousin Candice thought Candice as she started up the "leiderhosen" truck, it was time to get a move on. It was so easy for her to just dial a number and hire a Merc when she needed some work accomplished. Well now that utter chaos ensued on the main set, she could get on with the plans Uncle had laid out for her. After seeing the "approved" scripts--well let's just say he was ready to take some heads... Or necks as it were... "So how's our guest doing back there?" Candice shouted above the hum of the engine. As Lane finished tying the last knot, he decided not to shout and join Candice up at the front of the truck. "Snug as a bug in a rug--well chair if you want to get specific." "Oh good, we should be getting a phone call any second, answer that, would you? Now on to the other sound stage--we have another "pick-up" to make." As if on cue, the portable phone rang, Lane picked it up and said nothing--seeing as Candice hadn't said to say anything (after all she *was* his employer for the time being) and hung up after they knew the pertinent information. "Oh he... (Heck, I said heck)--I forgot to tell Dianne where to meet us next. Damn--gimme the phone." Candice hit the button programmed with Dianne's number (handy little Merc that Dianne :). "Hi, Dianne. Listen--meet us at Sound Stage 2 in 10 minutes, the next part of your job requires you to be there for some,... Ah... Lifting." "See you there." and Dianne hung up the phone. "Where are we taking Mr. P. anyway?" Lane asked of his employer. "Oooh, not too far I imagine--we'll be needing to ask him some questions in a bit and we don't want him to be uncomfortable for too long now do we?" Candice smiled as they passed the abandoned warehouse on the way to Sound Stage 2--a perfect place for an interrogation. They arrived at SS 2 just as Dianne pulled up in her own mode of transportation. "Are they ready Lane?" "Yes, ma'am." Lane picked up the tranquilizers and loaded them into the gun. "Great, let's go--and Lane?" "Hmm?" Lane mumbled as he checked the safety on the gun. "Don't call me ma'am." ************************************************************* Kidnapped!... etc. (2) Pawn switched to Rook going for Bishop by Cousin Candice Candice got out of the truck and went to meet Dianne at the side of her car. "Speeding again?" "Oh we're only in a studio lot, c'mon Candi--live a little..." Candice just snarled in retort, walking around to the back of the truck to check on their "guest." She cracked open one of the panel doors and slipped inside the back. "Wait here and watch for... Well anything." She'd wanted to say vampires, but they were kinda busy inside the sound stage and they had *no* idea of what was in store for them. Aside from the fact that news of the wreckage probably hadn't reached this end of the lot yet, so it was business as usual. "Hello Mr. P., just wanted to make sure you were,... Ahh... Comfortable. Well as comfortable as one can be, tied up in a chair like that. So, are you? Just bob your head--drool if you must." The tousled and disheveled man looked at Candice with pleading eyes to be let go. Candice snorted in a very un-lady like manner, rolling her eyes in disgust. "Not till I get some answers, I'm afraid. Just answer the question... Are you ok?" Mr. P. started fidgeting around in the chair that was bolted to the floor of the truck, grunting and whimpering, trying to break free from the ties that bound him to the chair. He gave up when he saw Candice grinning down at him, her eyes full of mirth and general menace directed at him. He simply nodded and then much to his shock and embarrassment, felt drool slide out from beneath the gag. Satisfied that his response was a 'yes,' Candice slid out the back of the truck again, chuckling as she joined her latest "For Hires" out in the night air. She locked the back and walked up the path to the sound stage. "Ok Lane, so the guns are all loaded and you've got extra darts just incase you miss? And Dianne, you have the garlic and holy water mixed in that container?" "Mhmm, and the mixture is positively *loaded* onto those ropes you had me buy at the hardware store. Plenty of rope and plenty of ammo, right Lane?" Dianne and Candice both turned to Lane, both a little more than anxious to get this part over with. Both knowing that Lane was integral in their plan and getting away with it. Lane was a little too relaxed and sure of himself for either of the women to feel "safe." "Would you two relax! Everything's set. I *won't* miss" "You'd better not--timing is _everything_. If you miss the first time, you probably won't get a second chance and Dianne and I will be dead." Dianne stopped in mid stride and nearly shrieked were it not for her keen sense of tact. "Candice, what do you mean *WE*? This was _your_ plan and..." "And _I_ hired YOU. End of story. Screw it to the sticking place and follow me inside. Now. Lane, stay close behind us, but Out Of Sight till we get them alone in the main office. There's an exit out into the alley where we parked the truck. As soon as you hit them, take them out into the back of the truck and get them tied up in that rope of Dianne's. I'll just run out and make their excuses and we'll high-tail it out to the warehouse. Okay?" They had reached the front doors of sound stage 2. This was it. "Ollie ollie oxen free..." Candice mumbled under her breath, and the two women strode into the sound stage with their best hell-bent-for-leather-mad-as-hell attitudes in place, with Lane close behind. They looked down the corridor and saw some people milling about, reading scripts, reciting lines, smoking, drinking soda or coffee--basically taking a break. Candice thought to herself, allowing the sardonic grin to spread across her face as she and Dianne got closer to their destination. Candice re-adjusted the weight of her backpack (filled with heavy duty, Garlic-and-holy water rope) onto her other shoulderblade. The people didn't look up except to get out of their collective way. Candice and Dianne turned down the hall, reaching the end of it faster than either had expected, looking behind them to see Lane close at hand, with no one else in sight. Lane pulled the tranquilizer gun and out from under his trench coat, bringing the gun up to a set position, ready to fire the minute they walked through the door. "Ready or not, here we come..." Candice pushed open the door, leaving Lane to come in of his own accord, with Dianne in tow. "Karin, dear Cousin, we need to talk." "Who.. Um... Are--oh wait--if this is about the fiasco down on the set, Jennise is just getting off the pho..." Karin turned to face the other vampire, her back to the door and to Candice and Dianne when Lane chose that exact moment to step just inside the door, aimed his gun, and shot Karin with the first tranquilizer in the shoulder. Karin turned and hissed, her eyes glowing red, and then promptly fell to the floor. Candice and Dianne both ducked in unison when Jennise came out of the back room, knowing they were in Lane's line of fire. Jennise was looking down at a clipboard and started to speak, not realizing there was anyone but Karin in the office. "Ok, most of the smoke down on the set's been cleared... Something's still unclear about a... Leiderhosen tru... ... *snarl*... What the..." Jennise looked down at the dart sticking out of *her* left shoulder, then to Lane who was just lowering his gun, then to the body of her co-writer lying prone to her desk, and then fell to the floor in a heap. "Piece of cake." Lane said to the ladies who were still conscious on the floor (also still mortal at that), and blew on the top of his gun to clear away the imaginary smoke. "Uch... Would you just get over here and give Dianne a hand tying them up? I would be ever-so-grateful." Candice got up off the floor, turned to the backroom reaching for the phone to make Jennise and Karin's excuses for not returning to the remainder of filming or sound editing for the night due to the chaos that still ensued over on the set and more re- writes. By the time Candice finished making all the calls to the important people in production, Dianne and Lane had already brought Karin out to the back of the truck and were just lifting Jennise's limp body into the air. "I'm never working for you again Candice. Never." Dianne grumbled as she followed Lane out the door holding Jennise's feet up. Dianne grimaced, knowing her weakness for jewelry was too strong to resist *any* job offer. "Uh huh... Sure Dianne. I believe you." Candice snickered and ran around to the front of the truck, climbing into the driver's seat. As soon as she heard the back door slam shut, Candice turned the ignition and waited for Dianne and Lane to join her up front. They sped off into the night cruising out to the old warehouse. ************************************************************* Playing Possum by Jennise Hall and Karin Welss "Ow! My wrists hurt!! What the @#$% did they soak these ropes in? And, Karin dear, why the hell are we in the back of this truck, playing ?" Jennise was cranky. Jennise was very, very cranky. Karin edged away cautiously. She wrinkled her nose at the scent of sizzling flesh, trying to ease the fierce itch in her wrists. "It was the only way to find out what they wanted." "What they WANTED?" Jennise's anguished howl was by carried away by the night wind rushing over the bed of the truck. "Well. I hope what they WANTED was to piss me off, because IT WORKED!" Jennise took a deep breath and forced herself to some semblance of calmness. "So, Karin, since this is all your plan, what is our next move?" "Uh, we wait until they stop the truck, and then... Lunch time?" Karin hadn't quite thought that far ahead. When the three absurdly overconfident mortals had turned up at the office, and shot her with those laughable toys, her first instinct had been to play possum. "Lunch time? Got it." But Jennise's voice was skeptical. "No, seriously. I didn't think they knew we were vampires. I mean, like, ?" Karin sighed. "But at least now we know who's been trying to sabotage our episode." Jennise said nothing. But then again, she didn't have to. Her bloodthirsty smile was visible in the velvet darkness. The ropes binding their wrists parted moistly. Jennise rubbed her smoking wrists in relief, then settled into a more comfortable position in the truck bed. Vengeance would be hers. Karin's stomach growled noisily. ************************************************************* The Story of C (1) by darkangel "Hi, Candi!" Me showing up at my friend's hotel room was not an uncommon thing during the filming. In fact, we quite often went out for drinks after watching the FKFIC-L members make fools of themselves at the set... "What's up, Steff?" She finished brushing her hair and set the brush on the counter. "Going drinking again?" "Not exactly." I walked up behind her and quickly pressed my fingers to a spot on her neck. She slumped to the floor, unconscious. "Wow, John was right. That really does work!" I scooped her tiny 5'2" body into my arms. Damn, she was light. I put her on the bed. I went to her closet and fished out her garment bag. There were a few dresses inside, which I hung neatly on the back of the door. Just because I was kidnapping her didn't mean I had to ruin perfectly good clothes. I laid the garment bag on the bed next to Candi. As I'd thought, it was bigger than she was. I fetched my satchel from beside the door where I'd dropped it and pulled out two sets of leather cuffs, spreader bars, and a ball gag. I grinned. And Candi had thought I owned these for purely non- PG-13 reasons. I slipped the cuffs around her wrist, and locked them to the black steel spreaders. When she woke up, she would be much more comfortable--and much better restrained--then if I'd simply ties her hands behind her back. After all, this equipment was designed to keep someone bound comfortably for hours on end. I did the same to her ankles, and put the ball gag in her mouth. She'd be waking up soon. I had to finish quickly. I opened the garment bag and laid her inside. hooking the spreader bars to the hooks inside the bag. I zipped it closed, leaving a tiny space at the top for air to reach her. Perfect. I lifted the bag. It looked as if it was stuffed with clothing. As long as no-one touched it besides me, I'd be fine. I slung her over my shoulder, and headed downstairs to where Jen Lackey awaited me in the van... "Murfle! Murfle!" Candice said from the garment bag. It lay on the floor in the back of the van. I smiled. "Don't worry, Candi. We'll be there soon." "Ef? Oo mifch!" The bag replied angrily. "Stop insulting your friends, Candi." Jen glanced at me from behind the wheel. "How'd you know what she said?" I giggled. "Do you have any idea how many conversations I've had with gagged people?" "Steff, you're incorrigible. What did she say?" The bag began shrieking and twisting. I ignored it. "She said, 'Steff? You bit--' Oh, yeah, can't say that. Um, starts with 'b' and rhymes with 'witch'." "Got it." Jen grinned and screeched up to the curb in front of the Raven. I hopped out and pulled open the sliding door of the van. I peered into the garment bag. "Hi, Candi!" I chirped. "Onna kill oo! Uckin mifch! Uncle ill--" She looked furious. I laughed. "Uncle will what, Candi? Oh, by the way, he told me when he paid me that this was in return for your disloyalty." "AT?!?!?!?" That was as close as the bag could get to "what" with that gag in. I heaved it over my shoulder, chatting with Jen on the way inside the club. It was just after sunset, so the Raven wasn't open for business yet. Janette, luckily, was nowhere in sight. I set the bag down next to the VR booth, which was in use. I wondered who it could be. Janette emerged from the back of the club, looking surprisingly bleary. She wore a black silk nightgown with matching robe, and she yawned as she went behind the bar. She poured herself a drink. "What are you doing here so early?" She sipped her drink. "Work." I smiled politely. "Ah." She went back to drinking, polishing off her glass and then drinking straight from the bottle. Tami LaFrank emerged from the VR booth with an extremely large, extremely satisfied smile on her face. She seemed to be having trouble walking. "Ohhhhh, Steff, I'm impressed!" She stated drunkenly. Suddenly she noticed Janette, immersed in the bottle of blood she was gulping. Tami turned a most interesting shade of red and slumped into a chair. She watched Janette intently as the vampire, paying no attention to us mortals, stuck the empty bottle behind the counter and sleepily drifted towards the back of the the club. As soon as she was gone, Jen and I broke into peals of laughter. Tami blushed even redder. "Can't a girl have a good time without being harassed mercilessly by her friends?" Jen and I looked at each other for a moment, than back at Tami. "No," we said together. She groaned. "But how can you stand being in the same room with her when she's just so..." You could tell she was trying to find a word which properly expressed Janette's beauty. "Wonderful," she finished lamely, knowing that no single word could express the radiance of this divine creature. For surely she could not be of the devil, as Lucifer could never have created such beauty... As Tami sat staring towards the back of the Raven dreamily, Jen and I prepared Candi for the torture. I performed the "Cajun Nerve Pinch" again, as I liked to call it, knocking Candi once more unconscious. As we unhooked her from the bag, we glanced knowingly at Tami. "I was this bad, with my first crush." I grinned. "I was thirteen, and her name was Sarah..." I drew myself of out a flashback [hey, humans have them too sometimes. shut up. *grin*--ed.] forcefully. "Where did you think I got my penchant for redheads?" Jen put her hand to her head in a mock "woe-is-me" southern belle look. "You mean, I'm not the only redhead in your life?" We giggled. "Poor Tami," Jen said. After all, the only way Janette would ever have her is for lunch." "That's what the machine's for, chere!" I grinned as I tightened the last strap on Candice. We had added bondage straps through a few well-placed rings inside the VR booth. She was now completely immobile. We attached the sensors into their places and I put the VR helmet onto her. There, all set. "Hey, Jen?" I pulled a small kit from my satchel. "Do you know how to give shots?" "Uh, yeah. Why?" I handed her the box. "Something to make sure she doesn't pass out from agony. I put a lot of work into this. She'll stay awake for it or else I'll eat my hat." I chuckled. "Hey, I don't have a hat. Oh well, guess we'll have to find more Cousins to torture." Jen administered the shot, and I told the booth what to do. In a few minutes, the punishment would begin. ************************************************************* Homecomings Are Never Easy... by Dawn Steele Dawn Steele dropped her dark green duffel bag on the floor. It was quite a bit more battered that it had been when she'd last stood here. Her apartment. Home sweet home. Sanctuary. Refuge. With a tired sigh, she started fishing for her key. *Where did I slip the blasted thing?* Dawn had found it, slipped it into the keyhole, and turned it before noticing an alarming fact... It wasn't locked. Pulling the duffel bag after her, she slipped inside. After flipping on the overhead lights, she stared blearily at the bill taped to the inside of the front door. Cleaning bill? With great apprehension, she investigated the rest of the apartment. The posters were ruined. She stared with disbelief at the remains on the "Common Whales of Newfoundland" that she'd picked up as a souvenir. Her Susan Seddon Boulet posters... Sparkly flakes ground into the rug in the living room. Black rubber marks all over the kitchen floor, as if equipment had been dragged through. The futon chair cover that her mother had made for her was gone, replaced by a dark blue pattern. Her VCR's were missing. The goldfish were gone... So were are Forever Knight, and Highlander tapes. "AAARRRRRGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" Clearly a primal scream. With shaking fingers, she patted the bare spots in her Entertainment center. Flipping through all the other tapes, she searched frantically. Starman, Superman, Sliders, tape after tape of old TNG eps... The most important ones were gone. Missing. Kaput. Lost. With a sigh she sat down in front of her computer. Almost afraid to turn it on... What if they'd left some sort of horrible virus? *Later. Right now I need something to drink...* Opening up the fridge she stared at the unfamiliar container. *I might as well get it over with.* She opened the lid, and stared at a purple liquid within. *Grape juice?* Dawn got out one of her water glasses with the Christmas trees on it. After pouring some of the grape juice, she stared dubiously at the small white flecks swimming inside. *Garlic? Grape juice with garlic? I've tried stranger things...* And with that thought, she tried it out. Not bad. A little strong on the garlic perhaps, but it gave a definite... Spark to the grape juice. Taking the glass to the living room she sat down in front of the tv, and pondered the past week. She'd loved the idea of appearing in an FK episode, latching on to the opportunity of a lifetime. All those weeks preparing, getting into the character of a private investigator... The preliminary scenes where she followed Stonetree around Toronto, *I wonder if they'll hit the small screen? probably not.* The small touches that the tv crew had insisted on putting into her apartment. The tv crew. They must have been in her apartment filming part of the episode. *Why? Re-writes? There wasn't anything planned except for a brief shot of the back of my head as I typed on the computer.* Dawn paused as she remembered signing a waiver... A waiver to let the filming crew use her apartment in the episode. They'd clearly gotten someone inside to clean it up a bit, but... Where were her goldfish? She'd clearly stated on the waiver that stunt goldfish were to be used for any dangerous scenes. Writers could be so cruel to the little things. Putting them in all sorts of unlikely containers... *They could be in a thermos for all I know!* Okay. Someone had the goldfish. Someone had the stunt goldfish. Dawn slumped into the computer chair and took another sip of the grape juice. She closed her eyes, and slipped into a flashback... do de do da do de do da do de do da... deep deep. Realtime filming. 1 week earlier. Dawn flipped though her yellow copy of the latest rewrites. "I'm going to Tibet?" "Our sponsor insists. We've got the scene all planned out. You get home. All tired from your mysterious investigation, only to receive... *Mysterious instructions*! It'll be great!" The assistant director was trying to project an air of enthusiasm. "Sure. Why not. So my character goes to Tibet..." "No! *You're* going to Tibet! It'll be fun! An all expense paid trip to the nether regions!" Her eyes danced a dance of joy at the clearly not-to-be-missed-once-in-a-lifetime- opportunity. "We'll send a single camera man along, and he can shoot some scenes of you getting on, and off the airplane! Dealing with the locals! Hiking! Climbing! Eating the food! All in a quick 5 to 7 day trip! By the time you get to where we need you, it'll be time to come right on back!" Dawn was trying to resist an urge to slowly choke the life of the the annoying person in front of her. "This is for the Forever Knight episode? Are you sure? I get jet lag bad you know..." "Of course! It's a very important role. Another foul plot of LaCroix's to deprive Nick of some mysterious goblet. If it's not used in the premiere we can always recycle it later. We've done that before you know." The last was said in a somewhat conspiratorial tone. "I know, I know. The Nick and Nick in the diner with the French fry scene. Filmed for "Feeding the Beast", it ended up in... What did it end up in?" "How should I know? I just work here. It's not as though I've watched the reruns a couple of gazillion time like fanfolk." "Tibet... Are you sure it's for the show?" "Of course!" With those final cheerful comments, the assistant director walked away, slipping out the pink rewrite copy as she went. No need for the poor girl to see it. Orders were orders after all. The word had come down from on high. Poor connections, bad scheduling, sidetrips from hell, a mugging to steal her passport, and at the end... It only made sense. After all, the episode was filmed as an "April Fool's Day" episode. Maybe the editors would be able to slip in the shot of Dawn's face. Tired, and haggard, as she discovered her trip had been nothing but a diversion. The film was to go directly to the new benefactor to check out... Television was much fun! da do de da da da do dee dee dee da dum... Back to Dawn's Apartment. Dawn's eyes flipped open, and took on a strange menacing air. It was time to get back to Toronto. Time to read the latest rewrite and find out just been filmed in her apartment. Then she'd use some of her contacts to do some rewrites of her own. She wouldn't rest until she got her tapes back. Perhaps she'd even write it into the episode... The perils of dealing with the possessions of a Di... Oops! The possessions of a ticked off P.I. with a background in the martial arts!!! ************************************************************* A Little Action Drama by Dawn Steele Candice looked at the unconscious Mr. P., and let an evil looking grin cross her face. The possibilities were endless... "Dianne! Get over here, and help Lane move Karin and Jennise into the back room. I don't want Mr. P seeing them, or vice versa. No sense in letting them know they have company." "You know, maybe kidnapping Karin and Jennise wasn't that great an idea. What happens when they wake up?" Dianne's voice sounded worried as she started to drag Karin's limp body to the back. Reinforced steel doors covered the back storage area. "We'll just have fun, that's all..." Candice heard her cellular phone start to ring, and pulled it out of her pocket. "Hello?... But my next scene isn't scheduled for... Alright! I'll be there in twenty minutes." She shoved it angrily back into her pocket, and motioned to the two Mercs to join her. "Dianne, I need you to come with me back to the set. Maureen will be suspicious if you're missing too long. Lane... You'll have to stay here and watch Mr. P. It shouldn't be a problem, and I'll be back in a couple of hours." Candice read over the script in disbelief. She'd rushed from the warehouse, only to find... These sort of things weren't supposed to happen to the Cousins. Wasn't Uncle in charge? "I'm not doing it." The assistant director's face creased with an evil smile. "It's in the latest rewrites. Do you want to be in the episode?" "Have it rewritten. Again." "I'm sorry, but with Mr. P... Missing, no one has to authority to approve any more drafts." "Then what are these?" Candice waved the fluorescent green sheet of paper in the assistant directors face. "They were orange yesterday! Who approved these?" "They were on Mr. P's desk. With his initials on the master copy." The assistant director turned her back on Candice and started to walk away. "Filming starts in ten minutes, you get to costuming..." Candice just looked at the green sheets, and muttered. "What I do to be in same show as Uncle..." Cast: D.L. Steele, P.I. -Dawn Steele Cousin Candice -Cousin Candice Assorted Ninjas -Extras Sunset. Fog shrouded the streets, and deep shadows held secrets. Black on black shapes moved swiftly through the night. With a faint whisper of air, wire ropes flew into position. Agile black shapes could barely be picked out as they moved smoothly up the sides of the... Royal Constellation Hotel. After rising to dizzying heights, the leader paused outside a particular window. Signaling silently for the others to wait, she quickly brought out a diamond cutter, and cut a large hole in the window. Without a word being spoken, they slipped into the room. The room was suddenly awash with light. "I was expecting you." Cousin Candice moved away from the light switch, and into the main portion of the room. "You really didn't think I'd let you get those tapes back did you?" The leader had moved away from the window, and let the other two black-clad ninjas follow her through. Her voice was soft, and yet the words carried distinctly to her opponent. "They're mine!" "Perhaps you don't understand... What Uncle wants, Uncle gets!" "I can understand the goldfish. I hear Uncle has a... Weakness for them, but I sincerely doubt he mentioned anything about stealing my !" The leader ripped off her black headgear. Revealing a pale face framed by wild wisps of brown hair that had escaped her braid. "D.L. Steele. Not that there was any doubt..." And with that, Candice slipped a hand into her short leather jacket, and pulled out a two foot long sword. "There can be only..." CUT! CUT! CUT! The director slumped into his chair, almost defeated. Shooting this episode was beginning to look like Hell on Earth. Carrying a thick set of green sheet, the Assistant Director slinked onto the set. "What do you think you're doing?" Candice's tone was sullen. "Making it more interesting!" "No ad-libs today!" Skinny fingers jabbed at the paper. "See here? You run out of the room. Steele runs after you while the other two get the goldfish, and the tapes. You join up with some other Cousins, and now outnumbered! There's a big martial arts scene! See that comment?" Dawn moved closer to the assistant director, and pulled out her eyeglasses from one of the ninja-pockets. She smiled at the rapidly written notes on the rewrite. Her handwriting. The Assistant Directors voice had somehow developed a slight nasal quality. "Mr. P.'s own comment. 'Martial Arts: attract a wider viewer audience!'" "But why do we have to get beaten up, and tossed into the pool?" "Because it's a classic scene! The hero, surrounded by evil Co... evil ninjas! Symbolic of the fight for freedom against oppression, the grail at the end of the light, the human belief of overcoming overwhelming odds, the..." "It's 'symbolic' of a fight scene! Bloodied faces, ripped clothes exposing muscle toned bodies, and senseless violence!" The Assistant Director just smiled, and pointed for Candice to resume her position by the light switch. "Then as a Cousin, you shouldn't have any problems with the senseless violence. Move!" Later... Co-ordinator's notes: Other Cousins are now dazed/unconscious: -> Candice executes the famous Van Damme flying head kick, stumbles upon landing. While off balance, Steele moves -> Rushes up. In quick succession, executes solid: Mawashi Geri to Candice right side, stepping through--Rekken, Aku Zuki, bow-and-arrow punch to head Candice slams against the plate glass window, Solid Yoko Geri Kekomi to stomach, leads to: -> Candice being thrust the plate glass window, and falling backwards into the pool. Later... Candice stumbled over to the side of the room, and grabbed one of the ice packs. Weaving a bit, she stumbled up to Dawn, and sat down. "Why did you do that?" Dawn looked over at Candice, and then continued on in checking to see if any of her teeth had loosened. "Do what?" Candice waved her arms and gestured to the milling crowd of people. "...All this. You re-wrote the script, right? I didn't think most of these people would be interested in watching a fight scene get filmed." "I got my tapes and goldfish back... Why would I need another reason?" "A diversion?" Dawn looked at the crowd. The key people she wanted to attract were there, and Candice was sitting right beside her. Mission accomplished, in more ways than one... "Why do you think I'd need a diversion?" She leaned back into her chair, moaning in pain as she found another bruise. *A diversion. heh heh heh. Now why would I want that?* Meanwhile... "Are you sure?" Deb looked at the damp cloth in front of her, and then poured some more chloroform on it. Better to be safe than sorry. "Of course! Most of the people we'd have to worry about should be on the set. There's only the skeleton guard on Mr. P. A single Merc probably." Catherine peered around the corner of the boxes they were hiding behind. The van was in plain sight. No signs of alarm. She motioned for Nichole to complete her part of the plan. Deb put a restraining hand on Nichole's shoulder. "Why don't we just bribe him to let us rescue Mr. P.?" Catherine just motioned for Nichole to continue, and whispered to Deb, "Unethical. He's bound by his contract after all. I wouldn't want to cause him any problems with the guild." Deb responded. "How did Vicki manage to get the information out of Dianne then?" Nichole whispered her contribution. "I think it had something to do with Maureen. Or at least that's what Vicki said when she called with the information an hour ago. Something about Dianne violating a Guild contract, so Maureen forced the information out of her." She crouched on the ground, in the classic firearm position, and methodically shot two of the tires. The possible getaway vehicle was put out of action. The gun, even with the silencer, seemed quite loud to the three Die-Hards, but the occupants of the warehouse seemed unaware of their new visitors. "You ready?" Nichole carefully unloaded the bullets from the gun, replaced all of them with blanks, and unhitched the silencer. Still dangerous pressed next to the skin, but they should be safe enough since it would only be used in a bluff as a last resort. "Why do I have to be the one to knock the guard out?" Deb sounded a bit nervous. "Because I shot the tires, and Catherine wants to drive the getaway car. Now hurry up!" Lane sat in a comfortable chair, reading a book. Mr. P. was in plain sight. Lane would look up occasionally, but his normal watchfulness was missing. Not good war-time behavior. He looked up however at the sound of loud footsteps walking into the warehouse. Lane moved quickly in order to intercept whoever it was before they could get a look at Mr. P., bound to a chair. "Excuse me?" Deb voice was hesitant, and she managed to convey an impression of a hassled tourist. "You wouldn't be able to direct me to Bay Street? I seem to have lost my map, and it's getting pretty late at night. No one seems to be around..." "Miss? Let's go outside, and I'll give you directions." Lane watched in disbelief as Deb tripped on the coils of rope that had been dumped near the door. Spilling the contents of her (very large) bag. Small items flew everywhere, and Deb scrambled to pick them up, cursing under her breath. Keeping a lookout for other presences, Lane crept closer, and casually kicked a few items closer to Deb. Suddenly a shot rang out from behind him. Lane turned, and was caught as Deb thrust the chloroformed cloth over his mouth and nose. He almost overpowered her. Nichole quickly ran up and pointed the gun at him threateningly. "Don't resist, and you won't get hurt." After a few seconds of struggle, his form went limp. Squealing tires rang out, and Deb looked up to see Catherine pull up into the warehouse entrance in a black convertible. "Hurry up!" Deb carefully arranged the Merc's body next to the disabled van, and Mr. P., bound and gagged, stared at them. "Mr. P.? My name's Bond, Catherine Bond. We're here to rescue you..." ************************************************************* You Realize, Of Course... by Perri Smith "Ouch!" "Shhhhhh! Keep it down and act casual!" "Something just tried to trip me!" "Yeah, I saw it jump out at you." "Keep it down!" "Yeah, like no one's going to notice a crusade of Knighties running around the studio." "If you look like you're supposed to be here, no one will bother you. I do it all the time." "Well, maybe reporters are naturally sneaky..." "Hey, I resemble that remark!" "...but some of us aren't experienced at breaking and entering." "This is just like what we pulled at the Jack the Ripper, when we messed with the sound system last war. Except that the security guards here don't tend to turn you into a vampire. Now quiet!" Nancy, Amy and Vicky finally quieted down. Perri and Linda rolled their eyes at each other, and kept walking, trying hard to look like members of the cast. Fortunately, Perri had filmed her Houston scene and Nancy her scene a few days before, and they knew their way around. "The shooting scripts should be in the main office," Nancy said. "They won't be distributed until everyone knocks off for today." "So we've got to get to them first." "We will," Perri said. "Everyone got your rewrites?" "Yes," the other four chorused. "Good. Scottie said they were into the green sheets now, so these should blend right in." She paused outside a door. "This is it. Vicky, do your stuff." Vicky had the lock picked in under two minutes. Perri was impressed, but didn't waste much time expressing it. They shoved the door open, and closed it carefully, heading for the pile of script pages on the desk in the corner. They pulled out their own piles of paper from various places around their bodies, and started substituting. Perri made sure everyone else was distracted, then pulled out a second sheaf of papers, carefully inserting them in the appropriate place. ***** They arrived at filming the next day doing their best to look innocent. It wouldn't have fooled anyone who knew them, but it was enough to get past the director, who looked strangely familiar... The karaoke scenes went perfectly. Nigel had certainly had a ball with his. In the car back to the safehouse, the four amateur burglars traded congratulations. No one had noticed the substituted pages, and luckily, Karin and Jennise had never shown up on the set. The Knighties didn't spend too much time wondering about it, but thanked various deities for small favors... While Perri huddled in a corner and wondered if she should be regretting what she'd just done... ************************************************************* The Story of C (2) by darkangel Candi opened her eyes groggily to the sound of her Uncle's voice. She had been having the weirdest dream, in which her friends Jen and Steff kidnapped her... "Candi, cherie, get up. It's a beautiful night!" LaCroix smiled as she opened one eye. "Oncle?" She looked at him disbelievingly. He was dressed in a sunny yellow terrycloth bathrobe, embroidered with daisies. Weird. "Are you okay?" "I'm fine, sweetling. Come on, rise and shine!" He dragged her from the bed. "Tell you what--you go have some breakfast while I get dressed, okay?" "Whatever you say, Uncle." She yawned and stretched as LaCroix took off his robe on his way to what she presumed was the bathroom. What she saw made her choke. He was wearing the exact outfit Tim Curry had worn during his "Sweet Transvestite From Transylvania" number in Rocky Horror. He turned around and blew her a kiss. "Out in a minute, love!" he called, and disappeared through the door. Uncle? In *that* outfit? Had somebody spiked his breakfast or something? Puzzled, she made her way towards the kitchen. The fridge was full of bottles of juice, and there was no blood in sight. This was getting too strange. "Sorry about the delay, dear. It takes a minute to get out of those fishnets." He chuckled. "You won't tell anybody my little secret, will you?" "No, Uncle." Candi would have said more, but she was trying to get over the fact that LaCroix was now wearing overalls and a plaid flannel shirt. It wasn't even a pretty plaid. Instead, it looked like all the colors had been mixed with mud. On his feet were white socks with sandals. Ewwww. "Good!" he chirped, and took a bottle of orange-colored liquid from the refrigerator. "Try some of this juice. It's good." He drained half the bottle and handed it to her. She sniffed it, then took a sip. It really was orange juice. "Um, Uncle? Why are you not drinking blood?" This was getting stranger by the second. "Well, see, there's this book called 'Bunnicula', and it gave me a great idea. After all juice is simply the blood of plants, right?" He took the bottle back and drank some. "So now I can feast on helpless plants as well as animals!" He grinned. "And this tastes much better." He finished the bottle and put it into the fridge. "What do you say we go watch a movie? My tape of 'The Sound of Music' just arrived, and I loooove Julie Andrews!" He giggled and grabbed her hand, dragging her towards the living room... Darkangel grinned at the scream coming through the open door of the VR booth. "But Uncle, I don't like--" Candi stopped and gulped. "Yes, sir. Raindrops on roses, and whiskers on kittens..." "Gin," the dark-haired Merc said and laid her cards onto the table. Tami LaFrank and Jen Lackey were too busy listening to Candice miserably warbling "My Favorite Things" to pay attention to the fact that their money was rapidly disappearing into Darkangel's pockets. All the better, she mused. At this rate, she'd be the only Merc with cash. The game wore on. Each of Candice's screams of agony was met by curious looks at Darkangel. "Oh, he must have gotten out the Leiderhosen and made her dance the Laendler," said Steff the first time. The next answer was "Geez, LaCroix singing Barney songs while strumming a badly-played, out-of-tune guitar isn't _that_ painful." After that, it was "Hey, I _like_ that Vampire Truck Driver song. Michael Longcor is too cool for words." The answers kept getting worse. "Ooh, hey, he must have gotten out the marshmallows and skewered them onto fangs, and done his Godfather impression." Then, "What's wrong with velvet paintings of Nick? The woman has NO taste." And, "All right! The lime-green leisure suit worked!" After that last scream, two hours into the torture, Jen slammed her fist into the table. "Steff, enough's enough! I wouldn't make my worst enemy suffer like this!" She thought about it for a moment. "Well, maybe I would. But not Candi. What did she ever do to you?" Darkangel frowned. "Sit down, Jen. I'm just doing my job. Besides, she's only got another hour left." Steff stopped explaining the screams after that, but giggled privately to herself when she realized Candi was being forced to watch LaCroix do a kiddie play with shadow puppets on the wall, with LaCroix wearing Count Duckula pajamas... Finally it was over. The three Mercs gave Candi a knockout injection, and started the procedure to get her back into her bed at the hotel before the Cousin realized what was happening. A half hour later, they were back at the Raven. After all, the Raven didn't open for an hour, and they all wanted to use the machine for the previously specified non-PG-13 reasons... ************************************************************* Pay-backs Are A B@#$%! (1) by Maureen Wynn Dianne was relaxing on the set, in the Security ready-room, enjoying the fruits of her labors. She took a sip of wine, and looked again at the bracelet in her hand, twirling it slowly around so that the light caught the facets of the jewels, twinkling softly. When the knock sounded at the door, she groaned, wishing she had a little more time to relax. she thought. She got up to unlock the door. When she opened the door, she was surprised to see Maureen standing in the hall outside the room. She quickly shoved the hand still holding the bracelet into her pants pocket, and leaving it there, she leaned casually against the door jamb. "Hi, Maureen! Are they finished cleaning out the sound-stage yet?" "They're still working on it," Maureen answered. She added, "May I come in? I have something important I need to talk to you about." Dianne stilled the panic that rose in her briefly. , she thought confidently. "Sure, come on in... Can I give you a glass of wine?" she asked, picking up her own glass. Maureen looked at the bottle sitting on the battered table, raising her eyebrow slightly at the vintage. "Pouilly Fousse, '74... I wouldn't mind a taste of that." She smiled slightly as Dianne poured her a glass and handed it to her. "Business must be good for you lately...?" she asked. Dianne replied "I can't complain; I've had some good commissions. So, what did you need?" she said, changing the subject before Maureen had a chance to ask about some of those commissions. "Well, something's come up. I need you to listen to something, and tell me what you think it means..." She pulled a small tape-recorder out of her pocket, and pressed the "Play" button. They both heard a familiar voice say: "It's done." Then, "I'll expect prompt payment?" There was a moment of silence on the tape (matched by the sudden silence in the room), then a new voice on the tape said, "Hi, Dianne. Listen--meet us at Sound Stage 2 in 10 minutes, the next part of your job requires you to be there for some... Ah... Lifting." Followed by the first voice saying, "See you there." Maureen turned off the tape, and said, "Cellular phones are a wonderful invention, and so useful that everyone uses them. Isn't it a pity that they're not a very *secure* form of communication? I'm glad that I decided to pay the expense of the equipment needed to monitor transmissions to and from the set." She looked at Dianne's shocked face, and raised one eyebrow. "I guess you didn't know about that..." She finished her wine and set the glass down. "I know these calls were made on *your* cel line, so don't try to deny it." "I don't need to confirm or deny anything. You realize, of course, that I can't talk to you about my commissions? Confidentiality, you know?" Dianne said, having decided that silence was the best defense. she thought smugly. "I was paid to do a job, and I did it. I would think that *you* would understand my position...?" Maureen's eyes flashed angrily, and Dianne backed up a pace, startled. Maureen moved quickly, and Dianne suddenly found herself backed up against the wall, Maureen nose to nose with her, glaring into her eyes. Dianne thought. "I understand that your *position* is that you took money to provide a service that you had *no* intention of providing! I hope *you* understand that you have violated the Guild Charter?" "Not the way *I* read it!" "Let me quote for you-- '...All Guild Mercenaries have an obligation to complete all jobs that they accept contracts for, or return their fee, unless specific provision has been made in the contract for payment regardless of the success of the job.' You contracted to help keep the set secure, and then deliberately *violated* security by leaving your post unguarded, not to mention giving information to others. How else do you read that?" Dianne said "But I thought double-dipping was sanctioned by the Guild! *Every* Mercenary has taken multiple payments for the same job..." Dianne stopped, her eyes widening, as she realized that her rationalization didn't apply to this situation. Her confidence started to crumble, as she saw her cozy little loop-hole closing behind her, leaving her stranded on the other side. Maureen saw the chink opening in Dianne's armor, and shoved another wedge into it. "If I take this to a Guild tribunal, you could lose your membership." She turned away from Dianne, and walked to the table. Picking up the bottle of wine and refilling her glass, she added, "Without your Guild protection, there are certain... 'People'... Who might want to take the opportunity to repay you for past indignities." Dianne went pale, thinking of *who* might want retribution. "You wouldn't!" "Oh, wouldn't I?" Maureen replied, raising one eyebrow. "I'd even make the phone call!" she added, the dangerous glint back in her eyes. Dianne glared back at her erstwhile employer. "OK, what do you want? 25 percent? Half? I won't give you any more than that!" She jumped as the wineglass smashed against the wall. "I don't want money, you greedy back-stabber!" Maureen took something out of her pocket, and tossed it to Dianne, who caught it automatically, then looked at it in surprise--it was her bracelet! She put her hand into the pocket the bracelet should be in, and when she discovered that it was empty, realized that her pocket had been picked. Quite expertly, too. Warily, Dianne asked, "What exactly *do* you want?" "You're going to help us get Mr. P. *back*!" "Oh, no! I can't do that! If nothing else, I'm still being paid by Can... Um, I mean, my other employer--I can't help you against her." "You *can* provide us with some information... Like where they're holding Mr. P., and how many people are likely to be there." Dianne thought carefully about the wording of her contracts, trying to see if there was a way to honorably do this. "I don't think I can do that, Maureen." Maureen held out her hands, palm up. Dianne thought, startled. Then Maureen said, "On one side we have your ethics," holding up the right hand, "on the other side, your Guild membership," holding up the left hand. "Which one is more important to you? Hmmmm..." as she moved her hands up and down, as if seeking a balance. Suddenly, the left hand moved down as if filled with a heavy weight, while the right hand moved up. Maureen looked up at Dianne, and said "Looks like your ethics are rather light- weight. I think keeping the protection of the Guild probably wins out here." Dianne glared at Maureen, but she had the sinking feeling that the other woman was right... ************************************************************* Kindness and Senseless Beauty (1) by Dawn Steele It was near the end of the filming, and Dawn had decided to take a break from the hassle in Toronto, and to head back to Hamilton for the night. She was sure that Tracy was tired of her crashing in her apartment. Especially since there was still a few hard feelings about the--chocolate incident in the last war. Mr. P. had been rescued, and Dawn was looking for a little relaxation before contacting the other Die-Hards again. Just a breather. Dawn sat down at her computer, and carefully turned it on. She hadn't used it since before her little to Tibet. Surely computer viruses were passe by now. Overused in previous wars, she probably didn't have anything to worry about. It booted up. She entered Norton Desktop, and ran the Disk Doctor, and the Virus Checker. Nothing. It looked as though her hard drive had been . Unless there was a Doomsday virus on her system, she was okay. Dawn flipped the modem on. Then off. Then on. Then off. And on again. She started cursing underneath her breath, "...bloody... Wish I had the cash to..." Giving it a lethal rated stare she finally flipped it one last time--and it worked. Now to check her e-mail. She'd thankfully set all her subscribed listservs to "nomail" while she was gone, so she shouldn't have more than twenty or thirty messages. Most of them would probably be "where are you?" types. Junk, junk, junk, junk, hmmm e-mail from Sean. Terror of the e-mail circuit, and beloved/tolerated younger brother. Di Sudduth? She was a Die-Hard. She hadn't been involved with the Mr. P. venture due to the fact that she'd been hanging out with the Nat-Packers, and trying to keep them out of trouble. Or at least that's what she said... ------------------------------------------------------------- Date: Mon, 3 Jun 1995 16:13:36 -0500 From: "Di Sudduth" sudduthdj@sluvca.slu.edu To: "L.D. Steele" Subject: gifts Dawn, Just thought you could help me out. I was with some Nat- Packers the other day, and we went to visit Natalie. While we were there, I discovered that she received a mysterious "gift," a couple of months ago near the beginning of April. We were all curious, so we asked for details (see attached article). It turns out that Nat also received a gift for "Sidney," and that Grace also got a package. Natalie tested out the contents of her gift, (soap and bath products) nothing hidden. Sidney got a package of catnip, and Grace received an autographed box set of the Vampire Chronicles by Emily Weiss. Whoever this person is, they know quite a bit about Natalie, and Grace. I'm a bit worried. Could you call around? Despite what happened in the last war, I'm sure you'd be able to get the needed information. Or at least I think so. :) Call me when you get this. I'll be happy to try and add more details. Di ------------------------------------------------------------- (attached article) Natalie: the package was delivered by... ------------------------------------------------------------- Dawn got up from the computer, and started to make herself a cup of Raspberry Zinger herbal tea. It looked as though she had something to keep her occupied for the next few days. ************************************************************* Kindness and Senseless Beauty (2) by Dawn Steele <6am> "...And you're listening to CBC Radio, stay tuned for..." <7am> "That'll be $7.50" "I thought the price to go to Toronto was $7.25?" "Inflation." <8am> "Hi, ummm Natalie Lambert?" "You better not be trying to sell me a vacuum cleaner, I work nights!" "Sorry! I hope I can trouble you for a couple of minutes... I heard you got an unsigned gift a couple of months ago. I'm trying to track down the people who sent it." "... you want coffee?" <9am> "The Raven's closed." "Tara? It's Dawn. We met at DOWII, remember?" <10:30 am> "...That's quite all right Mrs. Schanke, I understand completely. We don't need to wake him up. Do you think I could get the wrapper it came in?" *And at noon, she rested...* Dawn placed her head in her hands and took a deep breath. Then she looked at the piles of notes on her table. She'd followed the first command of research... Research compile. She'd spend the afternoon on the phone at the Raven. Janette had been curious enough to agree to pay for any long distance calls. Try and track down the leads she had already this afternoon, and then go to the precincts to talk to Nick and Schanke. It sounded as if Cohen got a package too... What about Stonetree? It was going to be a long, long day. <9pm> "Nick Knight? I'm Dawn Steele. Natalie Lambert asked me to check into some anonymous gifts that were received a couple of months ago. Are you willing to talk to me?" "Gift... Oh, the book! A very good read. It brought back a lot of memories..." "Book?" "_LOST CITY OF THE TOLTECS_: _An annotated photographic record_ You know I was going to look into it myself, but then the war came up and..." "I understand, how about we go into one of the interrogation rooms?" "You look... Familiar. Have we met before?" "I believe I got your autograph once." "Something else..." "Not while I was in my right mind. The room?" <9:30pm> "Yes?" "Good Evening Captain Cohen. I hear you received a gift a couple of months ago? Would you mind if I asked you a few questions?" "Who sent you? The F.B.I.?" "...No." <10:00pm> "...Schanke even invited the rest of us to join in. What a feast!" "And the name of the restaurant?" <11:30pm> "...I'm going in! Why give LaCroix a chance to get revenge in person? I'll see if I can track them down his input." ************************************************************* The Pot and the Kettle by Dianne T. DeSha After Maureen had left, that annoying little smirk still on her face, Dianne dropped back into her chair, stared at the door, and growled low in her throat. She snarled. She even hissed once, for good measure. "'Ethics,' 'Guild membership'," she mimicked at the empty room, raising and lowering her hands. "'Violated the Guild Charter', *Indeed*!" she snarled. "So who _hasn't_...?" Her voice trailed off as a memory struck her. Then Dianne smiled. It was not a particularly nice smile. She _distinctly_ remembered the use of the phrase "Bite me!" It had been directed at a vampire. It had *not* been a friendly invitation. Maybe she'd just make a quick phone call herself... ************************************************************* Kidnapped! (3) by Cousin Candice The blue Probe pulled into the lot in front of the warehouse at around 11. Behind the wheel, Candice almost screamed. Lane was no where in sight and the back of the truck was empty-- totally empty. Mr. P. was gone. Candice pounded her fists on the steering wheel and found herself fuming for the second time today. She brought the car to a screeching halt and jumped out of the car, running to the side of the truck. There she found Lane's semi-conscious form sprawled on the concrete. Candice grabbed Lane by his shirt, propped him up against the truck and hissed "What. Happened. Here." "Dae caugmeofgird" Lane managed to garble out some coherent speech. "Who? Who caught you off guard? Oh never mind..." Candice dragged Lane to the Probe and shoved him into the passenger side seat, knowing he'd be groggy for a few more hours and that it would be useless trying to get any answers from him. Candice frowned as she headed towards the side door of the warehouse. It had been hellish on the set--being called in last minute like that and not having had the chance to read the script ahead of time, Candice was totally caught off guard. She was bruised and battered and more sore than she'd ever been in her entire life--and she was still mad as hell at Jennise and Karin. Candice stepped through the door of the decrepit building and steeled herself for the confrontation of a lifetime. Candice heard the most blood curdling snarl as she walked through the warehouse to where she had left the two vampiresses. Yes, she had known the two were vampires from the beginning--Uncle kept her informed. The litany ran through her head over and over. Armed with her spray bottle of garlic and holy water, Candice arrived back at the spot where she'd tied the two vampires up. Tuppence was circling the two women, her ears laid back against her head and her face set in a permanent snarl, eyes squinted, glaring at the vampires. Tuppence sent to the Candice-human. Tuppence joined Candice who was still a good 20 feet from the vampires. This was a good thing, because if Candice got any closer, she'd see that the ropes that bound them were starting to loosen, meaning that they could get away any second, and Candice would lose her nerve. "*YOU*" Jennise hissed at Candice, "Uncle mentioned something about having some of his little mortals running around the set, but _YOU_... Uch, how on earth did you come up with this?" Jennise glanced around the warehouse, utterly annoyed that she had agreed to go along with Karin's little plan. she thought to herself and elbowed Karin roughly in the ribs. Candice faltered a little, almost feeling Jennise's words scorching her. "Never mind how, I just wanna ask some questions." Tuppence nodded at Candice and went back to circling the vampires. Karin groaned inwardly. "Great--so this was your big plan. _We_ have to answer _her_ questions? Geez Karin-- plan, just great." Jennise whispered to her co-writer. The cat brushed by Jennise's left foot and Jennise kicked (well tried to) Tuppence. The cat lashed out with a clawed paw, drawing blood from Jennise's shin. It took all her will to not break the ropes (breaking their facade of "strength".) Then again--the holy water and garlic had severely weakened her. "Okay, I'll make it simple--just one question. How could you let Uncle take all the blame for the murders in the plot line? How could you let that happen?" Candice, now ready to drop, found her second wind and managed to stay on her feet till her question was answered. "Yes, do tell." All three women craned their necks around to see LaCroix emerging from the shadows. Karin and Jennise both gulped audibly. LaCroix would never forgive them for this charade-- toying with Candice. He knew what they had planned. He knew. And he was NOT about to let them do anything rash. Karin broke down and began to tell the whole story from beginning to end of how at the start things were going great during the first week of production, and then Jennise got called away on other business. That taken into account, Karin was swamped with all the other work that had to be done--so naturally she couldn't handle it all by herself (not even a vampire can do the work of 7 at one time)... So Karin related to Uncle and Candice how she'd asked other prolific writers to help her on the scripts. And then all hell broke loose on the other set... "So when Candice came charging into our office, I was curious to know what it was exactly she wanted. And that's why we're here now." By this time, Jennise was thoroughly pissed off to no end. Being kidnapped by a mortal at her friend's behest was one thing, but taking abuse from a _cat_ was something else entirely. As Karin continued with her rambling tale, Jennise slipped herself from her bonds, catching everyone off guard, and held Candice by the throat and snarled "Pops, I hope you don't mind, but I'm gonna have to killer her now." "You'll do no such thing. Sit down _daughter_." Candice remained absolutely still while Jennise and Uncle had their argument over her demise. The phrase popped into her head, rather fitting for the moment. Then suddenly Jennise dropped her, and Candice crumpled into a ball on the floor, half dazed and very confused. The last thought that registered in her head before she lost consciousness was, ************************************************************* Kindness and Senseless Beauty (3) by Dawn Steele (who deserves all the credit) and Diane Echelbarger (who just got the fun parts... ;) {D.S.: I don't think so. } Dawn was sitting in Natalie's apartment. A hot mug of tea in her hands, and a comfortable couch underneath her. Heaven. "You think you know who it is?" Natalie's voice was calm, and even. Dawn had her eyes closed, and she enjoyed the sound of Natalie's voice. Almost enough to make her a Nat-Packer. That voice, and her sense of humor. "Um-huh. It took awhile, but I was able to track her down. She didn't her tracks exactly. Just avoided making them when possible." "None of the gifts were malicious?" "Nope. Not even LaCroix's. I talked to a couple of Cousins yesterday. He's been enjoying some new CD's around his apartment. Even took a couple into the radio station." "Do you know where she is?" "I have her home address, but when I mentioned her name to the Nat-Packers, they said she was already in Toronto for some filming." Dawn chuckled, and remembered her martial arts scene. She still had a few bruises. "I'll try to catch up to her at her motel in a bit, or try the Raven later on. There's supposed to be a party tonight." Natalie reached over and picked up her cup of coffee. She took an appreciative sip. Tea wasn't for everyone. "Appease my curiosity. Just how did you track her down?" Dawn looked over and smiled. "Are you sure you want to know? It was a lengthy process..." "I hired you remember? Oh great detective?" "Heh heh. Only in Forever Knight. A Master's student's education just didn't prepare me for what I had to go through..." Dawn tipped her mug up, and drained the last of the tea. "I spent most of Thursday afternoon trying to track down the delivery people. None of the delivery services would admit to delivering the gifts. Then I tried the costume stores, and hit paydirt. One of the stores vaguely remembered the young man who gave you your present, but they didn't keep the records any longer than a month. Bad business practice that. I had better luck with the woman who delivered Janette's and Miklos' presents. I managed to acquire her name from the costume store, and then started calling people with the right initials. There are a of people in Toronto, do you realize that?" "I have an idea." Natalie smiled. Dawn had gotten quite worked up by now, and was a lot more animated than when she'd entered the apartment. The novelty of talking to a (relatively) famous person must be wearing off. "Right. The woman. Managed to talk to her for a few minutes. She thought it was a practical joke. Got 'talking' to our culprit through the alt.native newsgroup. I managed to get an e-mail address." "Educational address? That would narrow it down quite a bit." "No such luck. So I decided to forge on... To Myra's gift. They came from a store in Oregon, WI, called 'The Chocolate Caper.' The card, and packaging seemed to indicate a friendly atmosphere. I called them up and tried to get some information." Dawn threw her arms up, and slumped back into the couch. "You'd think I was asking for national security information. No dice. I could barely make out what the man. Claude? Something like that, was saying. He had this heavy accent. Refused. Said if someone wished to give anonymous presents, they should !" "And then?" "VISA cards! Both the huge Chinese dinner that Schanke got, and Grace's set of books were charged to the same card number, and name. I now had the name, but I still had to track her address down..." "I doubt the VISA companies are that friendly about giving out confidential information." Dawn's expression turned faintly sheepish. "I didn't even ask. I was doing most of the phone calls at the Raven, remember? There was this guy there who managed to hack into their computers and get the address..." "Hacking?" "There seems to be a large percentage of Forever Knight fans who know a about computers." Dawn absently picked up her empty mug, and then put it back down again. "One I knew the name, I went around the set. Apparently she's been sending in all these costume designs in for the Wardrobe department to make up. Drives them crazy." She broke out in a victorious smile. "She also... Drove up to Toronto yesterday. She's staying at Motel 6 out in the west side with Karen Weston." "Karen Weston? She's a Nat-Packer." "I know. I've already spoken to her. She didn't know anything about it. Our... Culprit wasn't there. She's on the set now, and almost everyone is planning on being at the Raven for one of the 'almost at the end of the filming wrap up' parties. Supposed to be a big blast. I'll try to catch up with her there." "Did you enjoy yourself?" "I have to admit that, yes, I did enjoy myself." The Raven, 11pm The last Saturday of filming Dawn paid her cover at the door and squeezed past the crush at the entrance. Glancing around, she realized that half the people working on the premiere were there. She spotted Di Sudduth at a table on the balcony, and made her way over there. "Di?" "Dawn! I didn't know you were coming tonight." "You know that little matter you asked me to look into? Well I tracked the culprit down." "Who is it?" "Diane Echelbarger." "Diane Echelbarger?" "Um-huh." "You know... I think that makes sense in a weird sort of way. She's over there by the bar. See her? She's the one in the red silk top, and black broomstick skirt." "Thanks. I'll see you later!" Dawn worked her way through the crowd, placing her order with Miklos on the way. He was still a bit cool with her, but Dawn thought she might be winning him over. At least she knew he probably wasn't thinking of dining on her. Having vile tasting blood (to vampires that is--Ed.) was an advantage these days. Diane was discussing the relative esthetic merits of tights vs. kilts with Lorelei Feldman. The woman didn't look particularly devious. She was average height, wore glasses, and could afford to lose a few pounds. All in all, a pretty typical mid-30s fan. "Diane?" Dawn asked. "Yes?" the woman replied. "Sorry, do I know you?" "No, but I need to talk to you about Chinese dinners and pocket watches," Dawn replied. Diane's face went wary. "Lorelei, do you mind?" she asked, carefully. "Dawn and I need to talk." Lorelei frowned, but nodded. She collected her drink and departed. Dawn took the vacant seat. "Want to tell me why?" She leaned forward and stared into Diane's eyes. "You've caused quite a bit of speculation amongst your recipients." Diane sighed and stared at her soda. "I didn't do it *for* something, I just--did it because I wanted to." She sipped from her drink, then smiled wryly at Dawn. "I really like the show, and it was a lot of fun, figuring out what each of them would like best, and how to get it to them, so they wouldn't know..." "But why *not* let them know, if it was harmless?" Dawn asked. "Have you ever noticed," Diane replied, "that when you do something for someone, they think you expect something from them? Or they think they *owe* you something?" Dawn nodded. "Well, I *like* giving people presents. It makes me feel good," Diane explained. "But it takes all the fun out of it if people feel they have to pay you back. So, sometimes, I try to find a way they *can't* tell it's from me." "But," Dawn asked, "didn't it occur to you that, sending presents out at the start of a War, people would *assume* there was something behind it?" Diane frowned at her in confusion for a moment. Then, her eyes widened. "God, that never occurred to me!" she said, slumping in her seat. "Honestly, it took me so long to set it all up, I didn't even connect it with the War. I was so glad everything was ready, I didn't even check the date..." She covered her face with both hands. "That was *so* stupid..." "Thoughtless perhaps. stupid. They were very nice gifts. Well though out, and executed." Diane took her hands from her face, where a blush was slowly fading. "You aren't going to tell them, are you? I mean, you could just tell them you checked it out, and it's OK... Please?" "Well..." Dawn broke off as Miklos came up and placed her drink in front of her. She thanked him, and when she turned back, Diane was smiling. "What?" "He's wearing the watch," Diane said, obviously pleased. "And Janette's wearing the choker, I think. You won't tell, will you? It's not as if I did anything *wrong*..." "I'm afraid I've already told Natalie. She was the first one to receive a gift, and was the reason I checked into it in the first place. I thought she deserved to know..." "But you won't tell anyone else, right? I don't think I could look Miklos in the face without blushing if he knew. And I just Nick would think he had to do something back." "How about I telling them? Filming is almost over, and I could just sneak out... If Janette asks me though--I'll probably tell her. She'd just use the hoodoo stuff to get it out of me anyway." Dawn smiled back at Diane, and lifted her glass of red wine. "What to you say? Here's to avoidance of embarrassment." "I'll drink to that!" "And to 'Random Acts of Kindness and Senseless Beauty'." The two women sipped their drinks, and then Dawn leaned forward inquiringly. "So how'd you figure out what to give them..." ************************************************************* Paybacks are a B@#$% (2) by Maureen Wynn and Betsy Vera "Tell me who was involved!" "Boss, that's not impor-" "I want to know! I was the one who was kidnapped, wasn't I? I think I have a right to know!" he said, pacing around the office. "Now, calm down, Boss. We know you wouldn't have been hurt-- they just wanted to frighten you, and get you to go back to the original version of the script." "*I* didn't know that I wouldn't be hurt! I was tied up, blindfolded, gagged--I was totally helpless. That's not a position that I *enjoy* very much, no matter *what* Darkangel says! How happy would *you* be in that state?" She shuddered, thinking about it. "I wouldn't like it at all; that's the main reason I became a Mercenary--I don't like to leave my life in the hands of anyone else." She smiled wryly, as she added, "I *like* being in control." "So do I; that's why I became a producer, which, after all, is much the same as a Mercenary." His expression changed, and he looked very much, for the moment, like an angry vampire, as he stood over the desk, pounding on it with his fist in syncopation with his words. "Now, I want to know. Who. Was. *Involved*." "Can you at least tell me what you're going to do with that information?" "Yes, I can tell you *exactly* what I'm going to do with that information. I'm going to find every last frame of film they're in and I'm going to cut them out of the episode, and, and... *Jump* on the pieces! I'll edit them out of existence, if I can! And then maybe I'll have a nice little fire and burn the frames and toast some marshmallows over them. Hey, I *like* the sound of that. Hmmm, I wonder if props has some charcoal I can borrow..." "You might wind up with a really short episode, Boss... Boss? Where are you going?!" *************************************************************