Bailing Out by Lisa McDavid One of the production assistant brought Lisa McDavid a phone. "Call for you, Ms. McDavid, phone for you. He's says it's an emergency." Lisa took the cellular. "Hello, Larry. What is it *this* time? Larry, stop babbling--I can't understand you. No, I won't hang up. What do you mean, you only have one phone call? You're *where*? Larry, vampires don't *get* arrested. Yeah, but Nick's different. He's *not* weird. He's idealistic. No, that's not just another word for stupid! Look, Larry, why don't you just call Dorian to bail you out? He's--" Lisa sat down in the first chair to hand, which happened to be LaCroix's. He snarled at her but Lisa, intent on her conversation, merely shushed him. "Ok, Dorian's in the slammer, too. Then why aren't you calling Igor? Bellvue. Hoh-boy. I wonder what Thorazine does to vampires. Well, what about Olaf? No, I don't know how he snores. Wait a minute, him too? But why did they take him to the zoo? Oh, I see, Halloween--no, I don't see. It's the middle of summer. What was he doing with a Halloween costume? No, I didn't know akvavit makes him sentimental. No, I didn't know Bourbon made him touchy. Let me get this straight. He went off to the zoo because he was going to bring you a real one to prove he looked like--Larry, I don't care how good a costume Olaf's got, the zoo's bound to notice they've got one too many gorillas!" Lisa paused to glare at LaCroix, who was staring at the phone with the expression of a Siamese cat sniffing catnip. "Ok, I know I'm going to regret this, but where's Jean-Pierre? Well, if he's driving around New York, why can't *he* come get you? Ohmigawd!! Yes, I guess the Mayor *would* like his limo back." "Look, Larry, I still don't get it. All right, I understand you introduced Dorian and the Enforcers to Jack Daniels. Sometimes I'd like to stake Dorian!" She added over her shoulder to LaCroix, "No, I am not going to be your guest." Lisa turned back to her long-distance vampire brother. "So Dorian made a research project out of it. How much bourbon did he have? Larry, there *can't* be 117 different brands. I don't care what Dorian said. He was probably seeing *triple* by that time. So you had to be polite. Olaf contributed the akvavit--on top of a bottle of Jack Daniels. Larry Merlin, do you mean to tell me you mixed *akvavit* with bourbon? Akvavit, bourbon and vodka. Absinthe--absinthe's illegal in the U.S.! Ok, so it can't kill Jean-Pierre. I wish I could." Lisa made a chopping gesture. "Larry? Tell the officer just one more minute, please. What was that? Well, watch how you hypnotize people if they're going to be holding guns. I hope they can get the copier repaired. Larry, why were you guys in Manhattan anyway? I thought you were all cozy in New Jersey. What? Well, who *did* you think was buried in Grant's Tomb? Hello? Oh, damn it--I'm sorry, officer, no, not you. Look, I'm out of town right now but I'll be there as soon as I can get a flight back." And that was how Lisa's departure necessitated several creative edits, but even LaCroix had to agree that it would be unwise to be responsible for delaying bailouts for three of the most senior Enforcers and the Archivist. Besides, he couldn't be sure Lisa *didn't* in fact have a video to go with Betsy Vera's tape from the second war of him talking baby talk to his goldfish. ************************************************************* Oh Where, Oh Where Have the Little (Were)Wolves Gone? by Selma McCrory "Uggh," Selma groaned as she lifted herself up. "Don't tell me, we have a pack of spirit wolves on the loose. Great." "We indeed have a pack of spirit wolves loose," the woman from the University of Toronto said. Selma helped Hilary up. "LISA!!!" she yelled at her cousin before she realized that doing so wouldn't help. "I would suggest finding them," the woman said. "I think I will," Selma said. "After all, it's *my* Cousin that set them loose. Can you give us a hand, Ms.-- "Roth. Linda. And I think I'm up for a little--challenge." "Pleased to make your acquaintance," Selma said, bowing a little and then turning to face her friend. "Hilary, I think that we have gainful employment for the next few months." Her companion groaned. "'Scuse us, officers," Selma said, taking Linda and Hilary in tow. The startled officers let them by and watched them go. Outside, Selma could be heard saying, "Oh, cheer up, it's only a pack of wolves..." ************************************************************* Breaks by Selma McCrory The two friends laughed as the part with the wolves showed on the screen. "That was a riot," Selma said. "I'm glad I'm not chasing wolves in real life!" "Are you afraid of dogs in real life?" Hilary asked. "You think I'm silly enough to answer that in a room full of listmembers?" Selma snorted in reply. "Well, I can think of other things to be afraid of in real life," Hilary said. "Him, for example." Selma nodded as she looked at where LaCroix was having a fit. "Yes, I think Jennise will probably be in the soup for the next few months," she said. "Somehow I think that she'll be so wrapped up with 'pops' that she won't be able to do anything else." "That's an understatement," Hilary agreed. "I guess that she won't be proofing anything of mine for a while now," Selma said. She noticed LaCroix catching her stare and looked down, finding it wise to change the subject. "Speaking of which, did you like the collection I gave you?" "Oh, yes! I just got to the point where Greer blurted out that she saw Adam and the others jaunting in..." The two chatted merrily on through the rest of the screening. That's what friends do, after all. ************************************************************* Burning Bridges by Sharon Scott, Karin Welss, and Perri Smith Scottie reached out to touch the doorbell of Nick's warehouse, then stopped. "Are you sure I was included in the agreement?" "Of course you were. He said *both* of us. That includes you. Hit the buzzer." "I'm fixing to. I just..." "You're dithering again. Stop it and punch the buzzer." She punched the buzzer. In a matter of seconds, Nick's voice came from the intercom speaker. "Yeah?" Scottie was speechless. The gruff greeting was repeated. "Uh... It's me, Scottie." Silence. "I brought *it*." Still no answer. "I'm sorry--were you asleep? I can come back later." Finally that warmed-honey voice answered. "I hadn't gone to bed yet." "So, can we come in?" "We? Who's "we"?" "Me and Perri." It seemed forever before the buzzer sounded and they heard the lock pop open. Scottie took a deep breath before she touched the knob, and assisted by a shove from Perri, they were in the door and heading for the elevator. Perri slid the door to the loft open, and stepped into the loft, followed by a reluctant Scottie. Nick put a bottle back into the refrigerator, then turned to face the two women. "You have it?" he asked. Perri nodded. Scottie lifted her tote bag in reply. "You're carrying it in a tote bag?" he asked incredulously. "Sometimes the best place to hide something is right out in plain sight." She reached into the bag and pulled out a large stack of papers, sorting through them until she found what she was looking for. She thrust the handful of pages toward him. He took them, quickly scanned the words, and looked deeply disturbed at what he was reading. "Where did you get these?" "You don't want to know where, or how, I got them. Suffice it to say that I got them." Scottie's eyes went out of focus, as if she were staring off into another time, another place. It was a look Nick knew well. ****************Flashback begins********************** Scottie took a deep breath as she shut the hotel room door behind her. she thought miserably as she walked down the deserted hotel corridor. It was dinnertime, and the writers--Margaret and Susan included--were down in the hotel restaurant and bar, busily networking and trading critiques. She had pleaded a migraine headache and stayed behind to carry out her mission. Luckily, Stonetree's room was only a couple of doors down-- the short distance lessened the chances of actually losing her nerve before doing what needed to be done. As she raised her fist to knock on the door, she wondered for the hundredth time what fit of insanity had led her to agree to this scheme. LaCroix's proposal had seemed reasonable enough after several spiked Cokes in the dimly lit hotel bar, especially when pitched by the elegant black vampiress sitting in the booth across from her. Nick was in terrible danger from the Enforcers, although he didn't know it yet, the vampiress had told her. Scottie could save him. All she had to do was steal Stonetree's manuscript, thus removing the empirical evidence of Nick's condition. The vampires would take care of the rest, putting in a small post-hypnotic block against writing about or even talking about vampires. The thought of Nick, being held down by the Enforcers while justice was administered in the form of a wickedly pointed wooden stake... "Yes," she had gasped. "Oh yes. I'll do it." Jennise had inclined her head solemnly. "Pops--er, LaCroix-- knows you're committed to Nick's welfare. That's why he suggested I talk to you. As a sign of appreciation for services rendered, we'll give you a small hypnotic treatment to render you immune from your frog phobia. Forever." Scottie had nodded, and Jennise had continued, "Here's the plan..." And here she was, carrying out LaCroix's wishes to keep Nick safe. Never thought she'd agree to anything that psycho suggested. But then maybe it had been more than a suggestion? she thought, and then knocked stoutly at the door. "Just a minute," came a muffled reply from inside the room. She waited, her heart pounding, her stomach churning queasily with anxiety. What if it didn't work? What if he didn't-- The door opened, and she found herself face to face with the Toronto PD captain. His face bore smeared traces of hastily wiped-off eyeliner and lipstick, and the barest hint of black lace showed above the paisley robe. "Yes?" "Uh, hi--Captain Stonetree," God, that sounded lame. But the makeup and lace had really thrown her for a loop. "I don't know if you remember me from your reading yesterday, but I'm Sharon Scott, Deputy Sheriff Bruce Scott's sister..." A broad grin spread over Stonetree's face. "Bruce, huh? How's he doin'? We had some good times, trading stories at those joint law enforcement conferences. Oh, come on in." As she stepped into the room, Stonetree hastily pulled his paisley robe up over the tell-tale lace. "Please excuse the strange, uh, clothing--I'm in the middle of a--well, it's kind of hard to explain, but as you know I'm a Neemonee, and the best way to describe this, is that I'm doing a purification ritual." He looked extremely embarrassed as he saw her eyes go to the silk stockings and the extra-extra- large garter belt strewn across the dresser. "What can I do for you, Ms. Scott?" She swallowed. The best way to deal with that garter belt was not to look at it. "I was totally... Uh... Fascinated by the chapter you read from your memoirs at the conference, and I was hoping that I could maybe read the rest of it? And offer my services as proofreader? If you don't have someone lined up for that already? I mean, I know a lot about police work from Bruce... And my uncle used to be the police chief in Waco." Stonetree's smile returned. "Sure--that would be great! It needs a lot of polishing, but I'm hoping it'll be a bestseller! Lots of juicy details." He winked at her, and she forced a smile in return. She really *was* going to have a migraine after she got out of here. He turned around, and began sorting and piling together various stacks of paper scattered across the king-sized bed. While he was thus occupied, Scottie took the opportunity to surreptitiously palm the 3.5" diskette laying on the bedspread. She managed to tuck it into the pocket of her black leather jacket just as Stonetree straightened up, an untidy pile of pages in his hands. "It's got notes scribbled in the margins. Hope you can decipher it," Stonetree said as he handed her the manuscript. "You think you'll get to it fairly soon? I'm going to need it back in the next few days." "No problem," Scottie lied. "So, do you mind if I scribble my comments in the margin, too?" As she reached out to take the papers from him, she noticed that her hands were shaking. she tried to reassure herself. *****************Flashback ends************************ Nick's voice jolted her back to reality. "What's your price?" "My price?" Scottie didn't understand. Perri did, and she was pissed. "Your price. For these pages. You *are* trying to blackmail me, aren't you?" Perri couldn't contain her anger any longer. "You... Creep. After all we've done for you... You think we're trying to blackmail you? Sometimes I think you are the most clueless vampire in history." He had the grace to look ashamed. Now Scottie understood. LaCroix had truly trained him well. The son of a... "They're not for sale. They're yours, to do with as you see fit." "Where's the rest of the manuscript?" Perri answered. "Schanke's got it, but he doesn't know these particular pages ever existed. We erased the relevant parts of the disk, and printed out the new, revised, and abridged version before we got it to him. He thinks it was in the evidence locker all along." He read through the pages again, then asked, "And you don't want anything in return?" Perri spoke firmly. "Your protection, when the Enforcers find out. And they *will* find out, sooner or later. Then we're dead meat." "You've got it." He looked at Scottie. "And that's all you want?" "There is something else." Nick looked pained. "It's a simple request. A fire in that beautiful fireplace." Now it was his turn to look confused. "That's all. Just a fire." The light bulb finally went on. He turned and moved swiftly toward the fireplace. "It's always a bit chilly at dawn, isn't it? A fire would be just the thing." He grabbed the remote, stopped, and then held it out at arm's length. "Would you like to do the honors?" "I'd be happy to." Scottie took the remote, pushed the button, and watched the flames leap into life. And then the three of them watched each page of incriminating evidence char, catch fire, and turn to ash. ************************************************************* Taking the Best Shot by Sandra Gray Sandra Gray walked into the lobby of the Regal Constellation. She heard music coming from the Tiki Room and walked over to the door. Karaoke night appeared to be in full swing. Not that she cared a great deal, but a drink would be good right about now, considering what she was contemplating doing. Sandra walked into the room and over to the bar. "I'll take a Zombie," she said to the woman bartender. When it was given to her, she paid the woman, then walked over to see if she could find a free table to sit at. The place was crowded. She finally asked another red haired woman if she minded if she sat with her. The woman didn't object so she sat down. What a rowdy bunch in the bar! Sandra resolved not to stay too long. Although some of the renditions were kind of interesting. She sipped her drink slowly as she watched the proceedings. Looking around the bar, she spied Nick talking with a young woman who seemed to be hanging on his every word. She wondered if she had acted like that when they were together. She looked back to the stage. Well, it was too late for them now, but if she had anything to do with it, maybe he'd be free to pursue a relationship with someone else. The bar got a little quiet and she looked toward the entrance to see Nick's "sire" enter the bar. If she'd had any doubts about that before, they were erased as she caught sight of Nick's expression when he saw him (although he covered his reaction quickly). Sandra leaned over to the other woman seated at the table. "Who's that man?" she asked. It was worth a shot. "What man?" she asked. "The tall, thin one there, with the short hair and the pale skin?" The woman looked to where Sandra had unobtrusively pointed. "Oh, him? I think his name is LaCrock or LaCroix or something. The Nightcrawler." "Nightcrawler?" The woman looked at her in some surprise. "I'm not from around here," she explained. "A local radio personality on CERK," said the woman. Strange. That didn't seem to jibe with what she had seen when she had spotted him in the lobby the first time. Then he'd seemed to be with the police. But then Nick hadn't looked pleased at that prospect. She wondered what was going on. "Are you sure?" "Yeah," said the woman. She broke into loud clapping as the person singing on stage finished her number. thought Sandra. She wondered if she'd be able to follow the man when he left the bar. Just in case, she decided not to have any more alcohol. The man appeared content to stay a while. Sandra decided to slip up to her room for her crossbow. She did just that, putting the box it was in in a shopping bag and slipping back into the Tiki Room. He was still there. So was Nick. She found a seat at another table and waited. Hours later, the Karaoke night was winding down when a sudden and very strange disturbance hit the place. Sandra sat frozen as several large dogs or wolves entered the room. A cat jumped on a woman's arm, then suddenly the same woman was wielding a lobster in a pot at the man who Sandra had been watching. Yellowish liquid splashed out of the pot and over him and she caught a strong scent of garlic. He was very affected by it and ran from the room, chased by the woman with the lobster and the wolves. Sandra sprang up. What the heck was going on? She saw Nick talk to a woman and dash out. Sandra almost forgot her shopping bag in her haste, but snatched it up and left the room. She hurried out on the street, looking for the "Nightcrawler." There was no one in sight. Playing a hunch, Sandra went back into the hotel and out the back service entrance. The night was dark and quiet, but dawn would be coming soon. A sound caught her attention and far ahead down an alley she saw a tall, thin man lurching along. No one else was near him. Sandra hurried down the alley, pausing as she got closer to take out the crossbow from its box and load a bolt into it. she thought. She wondered if the cross she'd carved into the wood bolt would make a difference. He was so drenched in garlic butter, the garlic on the tip probably wouldn't make much difference. The alley was deserted. The man still lurched along and as she got closer, she heard muttered cursing from him. He must have heard her too because he turned. He stood stock still when he saw her and Sandra took advantage of the situation by taking aim and shooting at him. The crossbow bolt hit him square in the chest. He fell to the ground and lay still. ************************************************************* Rude Awakening by Sandra Gray Sandra Gray pushed Nick's doorbell. She'd waited until the sun came up before taking a cab to his apartment, and now stood impatiently before his locked door. "Nick?" she said and rang the bell again. "Let me in." The door clicked. She went inside and took the elevator up. She opened the door on a shuttered room. "What are you doing here?" asked Nick. "I... Didn't expect to see you again." "Why do you have the windows shuttered? It's a beautiful day!" said Sandra, smiling. Nick frowned and looked at the fireplace. She suddenly noticed he had a glass of red liquid in his hand. Sandra stopped in her tracks, confused. "But..." Nick looked at her. "But what?" "But I killed him. You should be... Free!" Nick set his glass on the fireplace mantel, then strode over to her and took her arms. "What are you talking about?" he asked. "Your sire," she said. "I shot him with a crossbow bolt-- through the heart." "You did what?!" he said. Sandra was a bit frightened by his intense reaction. "He didn't move. He has to be destroyed. And the legend says that if you can destroy the one who made you, you can go back." Nick released her with a sigh. "That's apparently not true." He walked a few steps away, then turned and looked at her. "I once drove a stake through his heart. He survived." He frowned at her. "When did you... Shoot him... And where?" "In an alley about an hour ago." "Did he see you?" "Well, yes--" "Then you have to get out of Toronto--today! Or he'll come after you when the sun goes down!" "But--" Nick came closer and took hold of her arms again. "I'm serious! You have to leave town as soon as possible. And not come back." Sandra studied his face. "I... I just wanted to help you." Nick smiled slightly at her. "I know," he said softly. "But you shouldn't have taken that kind of risk for me. You put yourself in great danger by doing what you did. Please... You must leave town while it's still light." Sandra looked at him in silence for a moment, then said, "All right. I'll go." "I *will* find a cure someday," said Nick. "I hope so," said Sandra. "I will. Now you'd better go. Call me and let me know you're safe." Sandra smiled and nodded. "Take care of yourself," she said. "You too," he said. He kissed her forehead. Then Sandra left Nick's apartment. ************************************************************* The Morning After... by Diane Echelbarger Schanke took the Regal Constellation's elevator up to the floor Stonetree's room had been in. He walked past the yellow taped door and knocked on the one beyond it. According to the desk clerk, the woman who was staying there had checked in the same day as Stonetree. He was hoping she had seen something. They really needed a break in this case. After a long pause, the door opened and a woman with long, wavy brown hair leaned against the door frame. She was wearing a powder blue, calf-length T-shirt emblazoned with a pink triangle and the phrase "I'm straight, but not narrow." Her face was pale and puffy, and she looked sick. "Yeah?" she asked blearily, peering nearsightedly at him. Ms. Echelbarger?" Schanke said. "I'm Detective Schanke, Metro Homicide? Could you answer a few questions?" "Schanke?" the woman leaned closer, and squinted. "It is you..." "Do I know you?" the detective asked, doubtfully. She did look vaguely familiar, but where... "Uh--no, I--ummm--saw you on television," she mumbled. "Justasec, gotta get m'glasses." She disappeared back into the room. When she returned a minute later, she was wearing wire- framed, thick-lensed glasses and her hair was pulled back into a ponytail. And Schanke suddenly knew why she'd looked familiar. She was the woman who'd sung "Snake Charmer" with such verve the night before. "Hey," he said, "you were at the Karaoke thing last night!" "Yeah," she mumbled, leaning against the door frame again. "Look, I've got a killer headache. Don't shout, OK?" Then, as his words sank in, "I--I didn't sing, did I?" He hesitated. The woman was obviously nursing a massive hangover. If she honestly didn't remember, it would be cruel to tell her... She gulped visibly and asked, "Was I really bad?" he thought, and said, with perfect truth, "The crowd loved it." "Oh..." She considered that for a moment. "So, why are you here?" "The hotel tells me you checked in four days ago," Schanke said. "Is that right?" "Yeah. I'm in town for a writer's conference, but I got here early so I'd have some time to sight-see," she replied. "During the first two days you were here, did you ever see the man who had the room next to yours?" he continued. "The murdered one? Stonetree?" she said. "Yeah, umm... Three, four times, I think." She hesitated, wavered, gulped. "That was--kinda strange, y'know?" "Murders usually are," he told her. "No, I mean, before that," she explained. "I mean, I work in Madison. Wisconsin, I mean. So I've met cross-dressers before. But he wasn't--well, it just wasn't right." "Wasn't right? What do you mean?" he pounced. "Well, most of 'em, the ones that go in for full clothes, and not just underwear, act, well, *comfortable* that way." She hesitated. "Like, y'know, Klinger on MASH? He never really looked awkward, just weird?" Schanke nodded. "Or they go the full impersonation route. Makeup, wigs, maybe even falsies." She took a deep breath, and winced. "But this guy, well--I only saw him a few times, in passing. Getting a Coke from the machine, putting out a tray for housekeeping, that sort of thing--but he looked, well, uncomfortable. Like he was doing it because he *had* to, not because he wanted to." She swallowed. "Does that make sense?" "Yeah, yeah, I think I see what you mean," the detective told her. "Did he have any visitors, that you know of?" "No, I--" She hesitated, then nodded. "Yes, he had one. That last afternoon, there was a break in the conference, and I came up to my room to get a story I wanted to bring to the next session. There was this woman standing at his door, with a big brown envelope in her hands. But he was alive then, he was talking to her..." "Did he call her by name? Can you describe her?" "Um, yeah," she said, "he did. He called her Lisa. And she called him 'cousin'." She rubbed her forehead. She was short, kinda heavy, with dark hair. Glasses. And, um, her shirt had cats on it." She squinted painfully up at the detective. "But like I said, he was alive when she left--" Schanke thanked the woman, told her she might have to come down to the station to make a formal statement later, and headed to the station as fast as possible. ************************************************************* Nightmare by Sandra Gray "Nick?" came Nat's voice. Nick opened his eyes and focused the blurry image before him into the form of the coroner. She was leaning over him, pressing a cold cloth to his head. Her face was filled with worry. "Nick? Can you hear me?" "Nat?" he said. "What... What happened?" He realized he was lying on his couch. "Nick! Oh God, you're back!" "Nat, what--" He looked beyond her and saw Janette standing at the foot of the couch. "Do you remember anything?" asked Nat. "Lots of things. But... What are you doing here? Janette?" "You don't remember me giving you something--" Nick frowned. A memory of picking up at the morgue some new concoction that Nat had come up with as a substitute for the blood flashed into his mind. "Yeah, at the morgue tonight." "That was three days ago, Nick," said Nat. "What?" He tried to rise, but she held him down. He noticed as she pressed her hands onto his chest that his shirt was wet. "Nat, am I..." he started hopefully. Then realized that he *wasn't* cured as a sudden lust for blood rose in him. He felt his eyes change and his fangs start to descend. "Here, cherie," said Janette, and handed him a bottle. Nick struggled upright. He uncorked the bottle and upended it. Natalie sat down on the couch and watched helplessly. After Nick had drained the bottle, he looked guiltily at Nat. "It's okay, Nick. You must be... Hungry," said Nat. "You're probably lucky you aren't dead," said Janette. Nat bowed her head and whispered, "I'm so sorry, Nick. I don't know what happened." "You almost destroyed him, that's what happened," said Janette. Nick looked at Janette, then at Nat. "It's okay, Nat. I'm fine," he said soothingly. Janette made a choking sound. Nick looked at her. "I'm fine," he repeated firmly. "You don't have to stay." Janette's expression became angry. She picked up her wrap and left. Nick turned his attention back to Nat again. "She was just trying to help. Oh, Nick, I'm so sorry. I don't know what went wrong." "You said I was... Out for three days." "Delirious. Raving. Feverish." Nick wondered, if what Nat said was true, why LaCroix was not there. Surely he would have wanted to know what was wrong. "LaCroix..." "Came. Janette convinced him that I was the only one who could probably help you, since I caused..." Her voice trailed off. Nick felt a stab of guilt for his prior treatment of Janette. He thought of something else. "Work?" he said. "I called them and said you had the flu." Nick looked at the empty bottle and sighed. Natalie felt his head. "Are you sure you feel all right?" Nick smiled weakly at her. "I'm okay, Nat. Although I sure had some vivid...dreams, nightmares." He sat upright. "My car!" "It's in the garage." "Good. I remember someone stole it, but... I guess that was one of the nightmares I had. And... LaCroix had murdered Stonetree, then he posed as an IA captain and tried to drive Janette and I out of town, and... People were getting framed right and left for the murder. I'm glad it was just a dream." He sighed. "I'm sorry, Nick." Nat said again. Nick looked at her. He took her face in his hands and said, "I know you wouldn't intentionally hurt me, Nat. Don't beat yourself up over it. I'm fine. Really." Nat smiled weakly. "Well, I'm glad, but I'm going to find out *exactly* what happened if I can. I don't want this to ever happen again." Nick thought about the vivid dreams he'd had. "Neither do I," he agreed. And for a moment, he thought he heard LaCroix laugh. ************************************************************* Fade To Black by Karin and Jennise (The End of the Episode: Writer's Draft) EPILOGUE FADE IN INT. LARRY MERLIN'S APARTMENT - NIGHT Larry, Dorian, and two Enforcers are sprawled over various bits of furniture. All four vampires are extremely hungover. At first no one moves when the banging sounds from the door. Finally, Dorian glares at one of the Enforcers. The Enforcer just begins to pull himself to his feet when Lisa comes dashing out of the kitchen. LISA I'll get it! She opens the door and less than pleased to find Ron the Enforcer lounging insolently in the doorway. LISA Oh. What are you doing here? RON Just filling Dorian in on the Toronto Situation. LISA What situation? Everything's under control. Besides it's none of your business. RON Any violation of the code is my business. DORIAN Violation?! Lisa, do you know anything about this? LISA (bubbly) Well, yes! And I took care of it too. She ignores Ron's incredulous snort. DORIAN Ron, I want your report. Now. LISA But... Ron stalks by her. RON The situation in Toronto was clean up of your sloppy assistant's mess. LISA Mess! I DID NOT LEAVE A MESS. DON'T LISTEN TO HIM BOSS. I TOOK CARE OF A POTENTIALLY LOUSY SITUATION! RON You left a MESS! DORIAN Enough!!!! Both of you. Sit Down. RON (snarls) I don't take orders from you, Archivist. Dorian's eyes flash a fiery red. DORIAN Don't play games with me, Romulus. You're here to report so report. Lisa. Quietly. What is this about? LISA (swallows hard) Well, sir, I went to this Writer's Conference. In Toronto. This ex-cop was reading from his memoirs. It was one of those tell-all things--and I immediately noticed that he was threatening to 'tell all' about the Community. So, I took care of it. DORIAN You 'took care' of it? LISA (proudly) It was all quite simple, really. Ron begins to chuckle sardonically. Lisa glares at him and continues. LISA Silent. Dead. Or one of you guys, right? I couldn't talk him into 'silent.' So, I gave him 'dead.' But not before I retrieved this. She triumphantly produces the manuscript and slams it on the coffee table with a thud loud enough to make Dorian wince. LISA I even got Larry to hack the police mainframe and neutralize the master. Ron's chuckle turns to a full blown laugh. DORIAN All right, Romulus. RON She killed him all right. Left the body in her hotel room. I moved the body, planted a little evidence and retrieved this from his house. He places a Macintosh Powerbook on the coffee table next to the manuscript. LISA *You* put Janette's choker in Stonetree's hand?! Ron shrugs. DORIAN (frighteningly calm) You involved Janette in this? RON It's not like they could do anything to her. And I made sure that she wouldn't be the only suspect. I-- LISA And none of that was even necessary. I had it all under control. I had an alibi, a clean record, and who would suspect a 5'4" woman of killing someone Stonetree's size? Dorian sits down wearily, and holds his head in his hands. DORIAN Lisa, does this sudden enthusiasm for enforcing the Code have anything to do with the little--promotion--you requested last month? RON (howling with laughter) You're not--seriously-- considering! Making HER an Enforcer! Oh, you ARE in trouble, Archivist! LISA (hopefully) But I'd be good at it! Dorian groans. Ron continues to laugh. On Lisa's crushed expression. FADE TO BLACK ************************************************************* Who's Gonna Drive You Home? by Sharon Himmanen "OK, I just want to talk through this scene with you quickly," Jennie said handing a clipboard to the over-eager production assistant before turning to the fan-turned- actress. "Here's what has to happen..." -----***----- "Action!" Jennie yelled. Schanke, Natalie and Nick walked out of the 96th precinct building. Before splitting up and heading toward their cars they chatted and joked about the recent events. It wasn't a huge explosion, but it was enough to startle the three of them. Schanke threw up his arms just as there was a flash of orange from his car parked over to their left. A huge black cloud of smoke rolled out from beneath it and there was a horrible creaking sound as metal twisted and snapped. Through the haze of smoke Schanke watched in horror as all four wheels popped off and the car dropped to the concrete with a loud crash and whine of metal. Nick, who had grabbed Natalie, pushing her back against the wall to shield her from flying debris, looked up at his partner. "What the--" Before he could continue, there was another sound, this time from Captain Cohen's car parked in her usual spot. There was no quick explosion but a long, low, ominous rumble as the inside of the car filled with white, dense smoke. This continued for several seconds, then stopped. Schanke and Natalie breathed a small sigh of relief only to be cut off when both hoods of Cohen's car popped open just as another small explosion blew out all the windows of her car. "Schanke!" Nick yelled, pushing Natalie toward the front door of the precinct. "Somebody get the bomb squad!" "They blew up my car!" Schanke yelled instead, stepping forward. "Why would somebody blow up my car?" Natalie turned sharply, struggling against Nick. "Get inside, Nat!" he cautioned, taking her by the arm. "But--" Natalie began. The sound of another explosion cut her off. "Oh no! Not *again!*" she exclaimed. Sure enough, this time *her* car was going up, and in a much more spectacular way than the previous two. Someone had placed a fairly large cache of fireworks in and under the car, and a rather impressive and colorful display was now ensuing. Red, gold and green fireballs were spinning and colliding inside the car while blue and white streamers flew out from beneath it. With a final flourish, the inside was filled with a huge red fireball, completely destroying the inside of the car just before blowing off both front doors. They landed on the pavement with a clatter. As the lights and smoke began to fade Natalie shrugged Nick's protective arm off her and stepped toward her car shaking her head. She surveyed the damage for several long moments before turning to Nick. "Do you know what having three cars blow up does to your insurance?" Nick stood quietly surveying the area which looked more like a battle zone than a parking lot at the moment. "Man, oh man," he heard Schanke say, then followed his arm as he pointed to the street. "Isn't that your friend Janette's car?" he asked, indicating the expensive black sports car that was lurching down the street. As it moved it left behind a stream of engine parts, first the muffler, pipes, screws, sparkplugs and so on. A huge array of spare parts littered the street. As the car rocked to a halt at the light on the corner, both the front and back bumpers clattered to the street. A final, single shudder raced through the car as the whole bottom gave way and the engine crashed to the pavement. The trio watched as Janette stumbled from the car, her hair a tangled mess and her coat and handbag askew. Her driver jumped out quickly and gave her a quick hand which she shrugged off violently. Whirling she screamed several amazingly creative epithets at him in a combination of English, French and possibly Spanish, Natalie thought. Her driver, for his part, cowered silently under the onslaught until Janette turned indignantly on her heel and stalked over to Nick. "Car trouble?" Natalie asked Janette, unable to hide her amusement. She nearly flinched under the animosity in Janette's glare. But Janette said nothing to her, turning instead to Nick. "Nicola," she said sharply. "Take me home, please," thought it was clear from her tone of voice that this was anything but a request. "In a minute, Janette," Nick said. "We've got to get to the bottom of this first." "You can do that *after* you take me home," Janette said pointedly. She turned and quickly surveyed the lot. "Ah, I see that relic of yours is still intact. Shall we?" And she started to move off in the direction of Nick's car. "Why is it, Knight," Schanke observed, "that your car, which is illegally parked I might add, is the only one that hasn't blown up?" "How do you know it isn't going to?" Natalie asked. She looked at Nick who suddenly went a little paler as he looked across the lot toward his car. Stepping forward quickly he caught Janette's arm and pulled her back. "Don't," he cautioned. Then he brushed past her and started to move forward quickly, concern very evident on his face. Natalie caught up with him after he'd taken only a few steps forward. "Don't you, either!" she said emphatically, but Nick continued moving forward quickly. "Nick! it's only a car!" she called after him. Nick pulled up short and whirled, about to give her yet another lecture on how his car was a classic when a deafening roar filled the air around them. Nick used all his vampiric speed to again grab Natalie and drag her down and under a nearby car as the night sky became brighter than the day and a pillar of fire where the caddie had once stood rose toward the heavens. After several moments of silence, Natalie glanced up and surveyed the blackened crater that had once been Nick's caddie. "Oh, Nick!" she breathed. He answered her with a small whimper and she turned quickly. "Are you all right? Are you hurt?" He didn't answer, but just laid there staring out from beneath the car. "Nick! Talk to me!" She shifted so that she could get a closer look at him, and was about to shake him when the clatter of more metal against concrete filled her ears. She looked out and saw hundreds of charred pieces of metal raining down around them. Whoever had done this had literally blown Nick's car to bits. Nick moaned again as one of the hubcaps struck the pavement near them. Then a sizable chunk of the hood hit, then the muffler pipe. Natalie thought she saw part of the radiator fall into one of the potholes on the main thoroughfare of the lot. * Standing in the shadows nearby, Susan Garrett was nearly completely satisfied. She wasn't quite sure how she'd possibly square this with Janette, although that *had* been an accident. It would probably be better for her if Janette never found out that she was in any way involved with this situation. Susan wasn't quite sure who had wired up the cars so elaborately. She only knew that she'd been adjusting the settings on her new watch, one of those really neat, cutting edge ones that allowed you to get e-mail via a wireless signal. It was an anonymous gift that had mysteriously appeared in her hotel room last night while she was in taking her shower. As soon as she'd saved the settings and hit the activation switch Schanke's car had blown up. She'd stopped for a moment to observe, then shrugged and reset the watch after noticing that it didn't work. That's when Cohen's car had blown up. That had been interesting, and Susan wondered whether it was simply a coincidence or not. She she'd changed the settings again and wasn't really surprised at all when Natalie's car had blown up, although, in retrospect, she was sort of sorry about that too. This was, what? Number three? Then she'd change the settings again, hoping that this time she'd get that damned green monstrosity, but nothing had happened. In disappointment, she'd tried again, and *that's* when Janette's car had literally fallen to pieces en route. Now there was only the Caddie left, and Susan figured she'd already blown up four cars. What did one more really matter, especially when there were so many people who would thank her for it if they knew. After several unsuccessful attempts and noting that Nick was clearly worried about his car, she'd finally hit upon the right combination of settings and watched gleefully and with a complete sense of accomplishment as bits and pieces of that horrible car fell to the earth. * Gradually all became quiet again, and Natalie struggled out from beneath the car, carefully looking up at the night sky to make sure nothing was going to come falling down on her head. She looked over to where Janette was obviously restraining herself from using her vampiric strength to throw Schanke, who had pulled her down to the pavement, across the parking lot. "Nicola!" she screamed. "This is all *your* fault!" Natalie turned toward Nick who was slowly crawling out into the open, a dazed look on his face. She felt a wave of sympathy for him as she helped him up. He looked so lost. "Don't worry," she consoled him. "The first time is a bit of a shock, but you get used to it after a while." * * * * * "Cut!" Jennie yelled. "Print that! It was perfect!" ************************************************************* Lurker (18) by Maddog "Whrfff-worf," the tesseract made a blorping noise as it deposited the two Lurkers in Dr. Natalie Lambert's apartment. The smell of freshly steam cleaned carpet assaulted their nostrils. "Hey, why's the tesseract making funny noises?" Maddog asked. "Beats me," Rastro shrugged her shoulders, "Hey Sydney," she said, zooming in on the cat, "do you have anything to say for our viewers?" Sydney had padded into the room when he'd heard the tesseract. He remembered the Lurkers well from their last visit. The smell and taste of the cheesecake was burned into his brain. The fact that he'd done the Technicolor yawn afterward had not registered however. "Meow! Now!" he told his visitors. "Sure Sydney," Maddog responded, knowing that the cat wanted food because that's what cats and fans always wanted. She opened the refrigerator to look for some cat food. "Hey Rastro, guess what I found?" "Mold?" "No, wine coolers!" Maddog pulled three four packs of wine coolers out of the refrigerator. "Berry!" "Meow! Now!" Sydney insisted. "Uh, sorry Sid, I can't find any cat food," the Lurker opened the freezer and peered inside it. "Hot damn! We've hit the mother load!" She pulled out two pints of ice cream, one Bailey's Irish Creme, the other Amaretto. Foraging even further back she found a small cheesecake. She unwrapped the cheesecake and handed it to the cat. "Here you go, enjoy!" "Meow! Wow!" Sydney acknowledged as his pink tongue darted out and began to nibble the cheesecake. Rastro had already popped open a wine cooler and was chugging down its contents. She burped, "Bwap!" "Pig!" "You should talk," Rastro pulled a face. Maddog was already scooping out Bailey's ice cream and shoving it in her mouth. "Hey, Rastro, I've got an idea!" "That would imply you've got a brain, and that can't be right." "Ha, ha, very funny, toss me a cooler," Maddog took the berry wine cooler and emptied it into a very tall mug, she then began scooping Baileys Irish Creme ice cream into it. "See, it's a float." "It looks disgusting!" The Lurker took a tentative sip and then a larger one. "Ahhhh," "Oi, let me try," Rastro took the float and began to drink it. "That's really good." The next hour was spent consuming the wine coolers and ice cream. Sydney was now laying beside the cheesecake and taking a nap. "How many vampires does it take to change a light bulb?" Maddog asked. "I dunno, how many?" "None, vampires can see in the dark!" The two Lurkers began to giggle madly. "I got one," Rastro said, "What do you call two vampires sunbathing?" "I dunno, what?" "Toast!" "Heh, heh, heh, burp..." Rastro looked around drunkenly at the apartment. "You know, that cat's gonna be sick again." "Yeah, but look how happy he is right now! Isn't it our job to make cats happy?" "Sure, guess so, but what can we leave Nat. Should do something since we've drank all her wine coolers." "Hmmm, I've got it," Maddog reached inside her extradimensional pocket and began pulling out posters. Rastro picked up one and nodded. They began stapling them to every surface in the apartment. Ten minutes later they finished taping the last one over the toilet. "There, floor to ceiling Brad Pitt, what more can a woman want?" "Heick, heick," went Sydney. "Uh, oh," went the Lurkers. Sydney had started eating more cheesecake and found himself more than slightly sick. "Think we'd better go," Rastro said, giggling. "We should go visit Nicky." "Oh, Nicky, you're so fine, you eat my vines!" Maddog sang insanely. "I don't want to work, I just want to bang on the Duncan all day," Rastro countered. "Wrong universe!" "Let's go," Rastro thumbed the tesseract and the two Lurkers were elsewhere. *************************************************************