HLFIC-L Gathering Thursday (Part 1 of 3) =========================================================================== Date: Sat, 30 Mar 1996 23:32:12 -0500 From: Enmare Subject: WAR: And the sky full of stars Title: Hyakutake (... And the Sky Full of Stars) Author: Enmare When: Thurs, around midnight Where: On top of warehouse 151 Reason: a reaction Enmare sat on the roof of the warehouse, staring north. The light pollution from the heart of Seacouver made it impossible to see, but she knew it was there. Advantage of being a member of the astronomy society mailing list, she guessed. Comets. Portents of death... And war. Enmare grinned a little at the last thought, but sobered up. Emotionally, that was; she'd been a bit tipsy for a while. She put aside the empty beer can. Kip deserved an old fashioned Irish wake (American wake? Finnegan's Wake? her mind asked), but she couldn't remember what one was. So she just sat up on the roof and thought. "You mourn, dor it is proper to mourn. But your grief serves you: you do not become a slave to grief. You bid the dead farewell, and you continue." -Regrets is what death is all about.- She regretted waiting to join the list, so that she was entering as he was going. She regretted deleating his posts. She regretted not getting to know him better. She was sorry she didn't have the words or elequonce of some of the other list members, or their memories. She was sorry that she couldn't do much. Some months either way, and she would have never known Kip or never known that he had died. How could that be fair? That someone could be lost that way. Comets swing past the earth, bringing portents of death or wars or new kings and nations, maybe a birth. They scoop up the souls of the dead and take them along, past the planets in the solar system, all the way to the Oort cloud maybe? 9,000 years until Hyakutake comes back around to earth. Think of all the things it will go past, all the things that could be seen. Somehow, to her, the thought seemed appropiate for Kip. Enmare reached into her backpack and pulled out some concentrated Greek wine and some water; -a vow is a vow after all-. She mixed them in a bowl, then poured out a portion onto the roof. It was too dark to watch the liguid splatter and seep into the tar, but she could feel a few drops hit her on the feet and legs. Quietly, (and pretty sure that she was mispronouncing things horribly) she recited a Homeric hymn to Hermes, patron of travellors and the one who mediates crossing boundries. She took a sip of the wine, then tipped the rest onto the ground, wiped off the bowl and put it away. Too many people had died this year already. "That which is dreamed can never be lost, can never be un-dreamed." ------------------ The quotes are from _The_Sandman_ issue 74, "Exiles" =========================================================================== Date: Fri, 29 Mar 1996 21:54:01 -0800 From: "Toni C. Holm" Subject: WAR: Shadows After Midnight Title: Shadows Past Midnight Author: tch@well.com, Sensei Rob@aol.com When: Wednesday Night / Thursday morning (Following "Meet me at Joe's?") Where: Four Seasons Hotel, Seacouver Rob Distante was having a very strange night. Again. First he got into a bottle beheading match at the Christening, then a cabby had taken him to ... well, that was better left undisclosed. At least he was finally at the right hotel... but still had no idea what hotel room Joanne, his faction leader, was in. He stood silently in the elevator, trying to remember where Joanne was staying. . He reached into his pocket and felt the little furry thing snuggle his hand. , he thought to himself. It playfully nipped his hand as he petted it, . --------------------------------- Toni (Holm, not Mandry) had been having an incredibly frustrating night. The staff of the Four Seasons Hotel, although world class on customer service, was just not up to the challenge of repelling "K" named villains, evil 10 year old immortal boys, small furry animals, and most of all, the cleverest bunch of manipulative, dissimulating, flag wavers ever to grace the planet. First they'd given the K'immie Brigade leader, complete with two monstrous, shedding cats, a room on the MFW reserved floor, and then there were the mysteriously tail-less small animals that seemed to be allowed roam at will . Plus the less said about the mix-up in the electronic keys the better (most of the other MFW hadn't forgiven Carol Ann yet, refusing to believe her protestations that she had no idea how Adam wound up in her room). Finally, to top it all off, that hack Stavros had appeared with his latest love toy, who just happened to be the apparent basis for Adam's latest flirtation with inebriation as a full time occupation. To be the fair this last was hardly the hotel's fault, but Toni was hardly in the mood to be fair. After helping her fellow MFW load the old man into a taxi she'd slipped away to come back to the hotel for a serious talk with the management. For a moment she regretted insisting her friend leave town for the duration, leaving her far less competent assistants in charge. "Pen would have sorted these folks out quite quickly", she smiled. But in lieu of her friend's usual efficient management she was left with a staff overwhelmed by the total chaos and her own sort of quasi-authority as a suspected management spy, her winning personality and a katana space like pocket full of small, and large bills. It was late when she finished meeting with registration, the floor manager, the concierge, hotel security, and most importantly recruiting the entire housekeeping staff with a few well-placed "pourboires", adding the promise of more to come. She quickly typed a message to the PSG loop about the new keycards and security features and changed to go for a nice long *private* midnight swim... She slipped a extra keycard into the pocket of her robe, planning to make a small inspection visit to the room next to the K'immie leader's on her way back. -------------------------------------------- Rob had gotten out of the elevator at the tenth floor, and was roaming around the hallways, jingling change in his pocket. , he thought, thinking about his kitty waiting for him at home. . He laughed to himself at the thought of queen little miss kitty having the run of the household... he thought, startled. The tenth floor had workout facilities, and he just saw a robed figure dart through the door to the pool area. Wouldn't be so mysterious - if the cowled figure hadn't been carrying a sword! He felt a strange creepy crawly sensation... Reaching into his bulky overcoat, he withdrew his tournament katana (the one with the coiled dragon handle that he won at the last fan Gathering in Denver), and crept towards the doorway, alert for danger. , he thought. -------------------------------------------- Toni was just beginning to relax, floating in the incredibly luxurious Four Seasons Pool when she heard the door open and saw a wavering figure stealthily enter the attached workout room. He paused to put a metal box on the floor, and take something small out of his pocket... Her first thought was to call the front desk in outrage, (the pool was supposed to be off-limits to outsiders), but then she stopped, fascinated. The figure strode into the center of the open solarium and drew a sword from within his trenchcoat. The smell of beer, and something worse, wafted through the air. He stepped back as if saluting an unseen opponent. Then he lifted the sword higher and began shadow fencing, weaving furiously in and out of the Nautilus and free weight equipment spread around the room. She pulled herself quietly from the pool, picked up a robe and tied it around her waist. The man in the trench coat stepped back and lowered his hands. The sword seemed to disappear as he spun the sword in a circle, reversing his grip, and he brought his right arm behind him. He snapped his head sharply and a long ponytail flipped over his shoulder. He stood still for a moment, waiting... And suddenly leapt forward in a flurry of motion, towards the shadows in front of him. The sword flashed rapidly in a series of figure eights before the man pivoted backwards and stabbed behind himself with his sword. He stepped forward, rolled, and spun back around, questing again for his opponent. Toni strained to see his adversary. He was fighting hard; this didn't just look like practice. For just a second she thought she could make out a robed and cowled figure facing the man from the shadows, but the vision quickly cleared to reveal that the ponytailed, trenchcoated man stood alone. "Who are you?", the man said to the air, "You're truly impressive... I bet you could give most immortals lessons." Toni waited for a response as well. , she thought. She looked briefly toward the entrance, peering at the shiny metal object the man had placed there as he entered. For no apparent reason, the letter "F" flashed through her mind as thought she saw a momentary glimpse of the mysterious, shadowy combatant wearing a... blackened fencing mask? She heard a noise and looked back. "Dammit, man, reveal yourself," the man muttered as he retreated toward the pool. Then he laughed as he moved forward again. "Best workout I've had the entire War!" ...now the man in the long coat was in a more traditional looking stance, but his opponent apparently kept disappearing from sight. A blade flashed towards the almost familiar head - she HAD seen him before! - and was redirected in its path by a touch by the defending sword. The man stepped toward his mysterious assailant as his sword looped back up under his opponent's arms, and he pressed forward with a horizontal slice to the midsection. The man was behind his shadowy enemy, and again, a fast pivot as the sword twirled overhead into a powerful cut - at nothing. Toni moved stealthily forward to get a better view and stumbled over a small, furry object on the floor. . Slipping on the wet tiles, she fell with a loud *thump* near the weight machines. Rob turned toward the sound like a tiger seeking prey. she thought, finally recognizing him. She hastily got to her feet, hoping he hadn't heard her, wary of the look in his eyes. Bad luck! Rob's shadowy opponent suddenly reappeared behind Toni! Rob charged... Toni ducked & moved sideways just barely avoiding the out-thrust sword. He turned incredibly fast and moved towards her again. She picked up a bar used for weights and barely deflected his feint. Although Rob moved unsteadily, he still was incredibly fast. This could get dangerous, she thought. "I've got you now", he chuckled evilly, moving forward drunkenly once more. She ducked again, holding the bar over her head to stop the onrushing sword. Luckily he was distracted by the apparent reappearance of the robed figure a short distance away, giving Toni a chance to breathe again. , she thought, She reached for her cellular phone to call for reinforcements when suddenly Rob moved with incredible speed toward her. The tip of his sword neatly clipped off the top of the cell phone's antenna, missing her head by a millimeter. She ducked quickly behind her huge "Miami is a State of Mind" towel hanging over a weight bar, hoping that if he couldn't see her, he might go back to fighting his invisible antagonist. Rob shrugged out of his trenchcoat and drew himself up regally. "You do know who I am, don't you?" With a flick of his wrist, he made three short, continuous slashes at the towel, and bowed with a flourish of his sword. Toni looked at the pattern cut in the fabric and stood up looking at him incredulously. "Do you know what that means?", he said. she thought with amazement. With a bad Mexican accent, he said, "It is the number two... " "... and there can be only one." With a flash of steel, the towel parted and a piece of weight bar clanged to the ground. Toni stepped forward, suddenly just too angry to think straight. "OK", she said, "that's it! I've had a very long day. It's bad enough having the old man play drunk at every opportunity, but your puns are just over the edge. All I wanted was a nice quiet swim, and *you* are beginning to get on my nerves." "Besides, that was my favorite towel". Rob turned quickly to face the hooded specter that reappeared behind him, and watched as it seemed to glide towards the pool. They locked gazes, focusing all their attention on each other. The moment stretched on endlessly - then with a sharp strike downward at his opponent's wrists, Rob disarmed his opponent. The cowled man backed up and for a moment seem to resolve into a female figure with long red hair dripping water. Then he saw the dark face again... Rob charged forward, spinning, with a fierce slash at head level. Toni stayed low and stuck out her foot - and Rob tripped and fell toward the pool. But his cut had been true, and the phantom was beheaded before Rob tumbled head first into the jacuzzi. The blue lights in the large tub flashed, and it started to bubble furiously. As Rob went flying into the water Toni stepped back to examine her handiwork. "Yep, it worked on John Seely in 5th grade, still works now..." she said to herself with satisfaction. "Never underestimate the power of a truly pissed off female". She picked up the remains of her towel and turned to leave the room, not noticing as a keycard fell from her pocket. She began dialing the mangled cellular as she left. "Hello, maintenance... " Rob stood up in the glowing, bubbly water, his head amazingly clear. "That's a hangover cure I don't think I'll be recommending to anyone anytime soon." He slid his sword back into katana space, looking for a body. There was none. Exhausted, he sat down, leaned back, and drifted off to sleep in the wonderful hot tub. In the corner a small brown form was heard to chuckle... ------------------------------------------------------ tch@well.com (Toni C. Holm) Sensei Rob@aol.com (Rob Distante) =========================================================================== Date: Tue, 26 Mar 1996 14:28:48 -0500 From: "Jimmy Murphy @ GA Southern University" Subject: WAR: To Sleep..Perchance To Forget! Title: Pulling the Covers Over Our Heads Author: Jimmy Murphy When: about 1AM Where: Upstairs at Chez Lindsey It gave Anne the creeps to come upstairs and find the sheets on her bed were changed. Little did she know of the favor that had been done for her. Still, she could only chalk it up to one more reason to have this day end quickly. Between Duncan's friends, Joe's band, and that brat Kenny, Anne felt her day had gone spinning out of control. Jimmy's crisis _du jour_ certainly added to the hopeless feeling; "How *does* he get any studying done?" she thought to herself as she collapsed onto the bed. Her feet were killing her. She clicked the radio on, but like Jimmy and Marie, she was puzzled to hear only blues and jazz on all her favorite stations. "Must be part of this wartime I keep hearing about..." she quipped as she turned the radio back off again. Random thoughts often popped into Anne's head when she tried to get to sleep. "Anne Ramsey? Where did that guy come from?" Anne asked herself. "That was the actress from 'Throw Momma From The Train'! And I got bounced from hematology twice in med school....crackpot." The silence of nighttime in the country was still something that Anne still could not get used to. The silence almost became tangible. She occupied her tired mind by revisiting that REM tune and the _dancing_ at the reception. As she finally began to drift off, she thought to herself that Duncan was right; who needs *audible* music? Two doors down the hall, Marie was on the phone to her husband in Burbank. "I felt so badly for her..." she said, trying to whisper. "Yes, I'm fine, though the outfit is a total loss." Pause. "Goodness no! I will wear what I brought! No way am I going to buy any women's clothing sold in this town....poor Anne was stuck with some of the most ghastly creations to wear over the past year. Pause. "Everything's fine...no, you and the girls go to Hawaii! Sam's been after us for months to visit your folks, and this will give me the chance to see Mary and Anne some more. You would not believe how much Mary has grown!" "Yes, I met him....no, he's not the villain I wanted him to be." She took her hair from its clasp, switching ears for the phone. "That sarcastic mouth of his! He cracks me up sometimes, but it gets him in so much trouble!" Donna was across the hall, taking off her eye make up in the bathroom mirror and going over some of the day's events in her mind. Everyone had been buzzing around as though a simple Christening was going to blow up into World War III. After that fiasco with the sprinklers, she easily believed that the others were not so far off. After satisfying her wish to get Duncan and Anne some time to bond over Mary at the church, Donna had spent most of her day on "damage control". "A stink bomb in a church?" she quipped to herself as she climbed into the bed. "Good thing the guest list included six doctors and nurses!" Donna had helped one man to the bushes before he could get sick all over the dessert table. You can take the girl out of the lab coat, but you can't take the lab coat out of the girl. Jimmy was staring out the nursery window, looking down on the tangled mess that was once a Rolls Royce. He had never lived in a *house* that expensive, much less driven a car that costly. "What some people won't do when they get...litigious," he said, trying to edit his words. "Paint job's a nice touch," he added with an unconscious grin. "Would have been like driving the 'Partridge Family' bus!" Joining Mary in a long stare at the mobile hanging over the crib, Jimmy tried to review in his mind all the mechanics and body shops he remembered in Seacouver. Mary was in no mood to sleep; neither was Jimmy. "Well," he told Mary, "getting things right with that car will keep me in town a while....I hope you can put up with having the old man around." Mary seemed to know her cue; she spit up some of the late dinner provided by Auntie Donna. Jimmy just nodded and said "Seems to be the consensus around here." Jimmy knew that the wrecker service would have to be called tomorrow and that they would have a few choice comments to make about the car-nage (forgive me) in the driveway. "Hideously expensive to repair" would probably be one of them. No worse than the tab he had been running with the Georgia Student Finance Authority though, at least until Horton had decided to play Secret Santa. Besides, if worse came to worst, he could always countersue the person who ran into the thing--or just get Customs Unlimited Rent-A-Car to get on them. Scarlett O'Hara may have coined the phrase "Tomorrow is another day," but no one wanted to believe it more than the occupants of 9876 Countdown Lane that evening. =========================================================================== Date: Fri, 29 Mar 1996 18:43:10 -0800 From: Joanne Curme Subject: WAR: Donut Try This At Home Without Adult Supervision "Old Age and Treachery Shall Overcome Youth and Skill" - quoted from the ultimate source of knowledge, a bumper sticker. Title: Donut Try This At Home Without Adult Supervision Author: Rob Distante, K'immie Brigadier When: About 2 AM, after "Liquor is Quicker" Where: The 7-11 in scenic downtown Seacouver I grabbed an item from my bag of new purchases as I left the 7-11 for the second time tonight. Hopefully Joanne would accept my peace offerings, especially after my behavior at the Christening - I knew she could be a real sucker for snack items sometimes, so maybe this would help smooth things over. , I said as I slipped a carton of milk inside it. I had called for a cab to bring me to the Four Seasons hotel, and was waiting patiently by the curb for it, when a finger beckoned to me from a dark alleyway. I turned to see a couple of young steroid-enhanced men hanging out. "Hey guys, what's up?" I asked "Homey went shopping, huh? What did you get for us, eh?" asked one of the group. "Well, uh, didn't know you were here... ", I stammered, wondering what I could give them. I didn't want to fight them - I was still drunk, hung over, and several were obviously armed... I held out a box with a smile. Another gang member stepped forward and grabbed the proffered box of powdered donuts. "Help yourselves, guys, there's enough there for everyone," I said. They passed the box around, each taking a few of the heavily frosted white powdered donuts, not even offering me one. Greedily they shoveled the snacks into their mouths. It was all very rude. "What else you got? And where's your wallet, man?" The heavily tattooed youngster popped an entire donut into his mouth, apparently to free his hands to grab at my belongings. I stepped back, watching the muscle-bound gangsters scarfing down my donuts, white powder covering their mouths and hands. "You guys are out a little late, huh? Maybe you should go home now so your mommies don't get upset." These boys were about to learn a valuable lesson, messing around with ME. "Mmmrph frrgph," said one, trying to advance on me menacingly. He coughed and started to make weird noises, as were the rest of his friends, who were choking on the dry donuts and collapsing to the ground. "Got milk?" I quipped as I walked away. ------------------------------------------------------ Rob Distante promoted to warrior, wanderer and punster extraordinaire =========================================================================== Date: Fri, 29 Mar 1996 18:53:30 -0800 From: Joanne Curme Subject: WAR: Another Early Morning Wake-up Call, During Which Rob And Joanne Make A Dinner Date Title: Another Early Morning Wake-up Call, During Which Rob and Joanne Make A Dinner Date Author: Joanne Curme and Rob Distante When: Thursday morning, 3 am Where: Four Seasons Hotel Rob Distante stumbled into the lobby, trying to look inconspicuous. The alcohol hadn't quite worn off yet, and he had the makings of a killer hangover already. . He nestled his toaster under his arm and decided to bluff his way in. To his surprise, nobody gave him a second look. , he thought to himself. . He went up to the reception desk. "I'm looking for a girl -- no, wait, let me rephrase that." He didn't want to get into *that* again, not this early in the morning, anyway. "Checked in yesterday, you say?" The clerk paged up through the screens on the monitor. "Yes, with two cats. She's staying on one of the upper floors. Um, it's got a good view," he offered. Drat! He should have gotten the room number during the reception. Like he would have remembered *her* number, when he couldn't even remember what hotel he had been staying in. "Oh. *That* group." The clerk muttered something to himself. "Yes, she's right here." "Thanks. What's the room number?" "I'm sorry, sir, I can't tell you that." "But we're working together. I have to talk to her. It's very important." The clerk eyed Rob's bloodshot eyes, unshaven face, rumpled trenchcoat, filthy clothes, and toaster. He smelled worse than that man with the striped beard did earlier today. "I'm sure it is, sir; however, I can't give out that information. But I can ring the room and let you talk to her." "That'd be great. Thanks." Rob shifted the toaster in his grip as the clerk punched in the phone number and handed him the receiver. He tried to see the keypad, but the number he saw dialed didn't make sense. he grumbled to himself. Rob heard a click on the other end, then a thump. "Joanne?" he said. "Go away, kitty. I already fed you." "It's me, Rob." He heard the change in her voice. "Rob? Mr. 'come to the Christening and see me get three sheets to the wind in a drinking contest with an immortal and then ditch you on one of the busiest nights of the war' Rob? *That* Rob?" The smile froze on his face. "Um, yeah, that's me. I, uh, I guess you heard about that." He cleared his throat and tried to sound more together than he felt. "So did I miss much?" He could hear her rolling her eyes. "No, Rob, your little jaunt didn't set us back too far. The cats are missing, I've got a key to the MFW's computer room plus one of their printers printing stuff out, Kenny tried to kill Amanda, Ma Wombat may be the defector, and Connor's in town. Plus Horton's acting up again. How was *your* night?" Rob thought about the 7-11, the muggers, Candy, and the desk clerk, and cautiously phrased his answer. "Um, nothing out of the ordinary." He quickly changed the subject. "So how about we meet downstairs for breakfast? I'll fill you in on all the details." "You'll fill *me* in? Right. I'm dying to hear all about it." He held the phone away from his face to avoid the sarcasm dripping out. "Right. Well, then, you fill can *me* in, OK?" He slipped his hand in his pocket to pet the critter he had recently befriended. It nestled reassuringly in his hand. , he thought, then shook his head to clear his mind. There was no point in prolonging his agony, and she could tell from his voice that he *was* in agony. Probably looked like a truck hit him, too. "All right, come on up. I guess it's not too late to salvage the operation. I'm not really hungry, though. Just toast will do. I'll order room service." Rob smiled. "Don't bother. I can take care of it." He paused. "Tell you what, I heard some people talking about going out tonight. How about I take you for a few drinks at Joe's later and then we go out to some really nice restaurant for dinner?" "I'll skip on the drinks, thanks, but it would be nice to see the others at Joe's. And yeah, a nice dinner would be good. I don't suppose you noticed any good places last night?" Rob thought about where he'd been recently. "No. But I'll bet Joe knows somewhere." "He probably does. Let's do Italian. No, maybe British...I don't know. The two go so well together. What do you feel like?" . "Let's discuss it later, OK? So it's a date. Tonight at Joe's at 6, then dinner after. We'll go somewhere classy, quiet, refined, elegant, where we can go over our plans for the next few days in peace. It'll be nice, I promise. Tablecloths, cloth napkins, and everything." "OK." She yawned and looked at the clock. "You've really got to stop calling me in the middle of the night." "Sorry." He grinned. "I'll be right up." "OK. See you in a few." Rob hung up, happy, and started toward the elevators. He was standing in front of the panel before he realized he *still* didn't have her room number. ------------------------------------------------------ Joanne (jcurme@pyramid.com) K'immie Brigade Leader for the First HL Gathering Rob Distante (Sensei Rob@aol.com) a mere pawn in the scheme of things =========================================================================== Date: Mon, 25 Mar 1996 17:56:34 -0800 From: Rachel Smith Subject: WAR: Lysol Reason #246 Title: Lysol reason #246 (or "OWWW!!! I have an exedrin headache!") Author: Rachel Smith When: Night of the christening/the day after Time: Late, late, late at night. Long after the party is over, but long before the next morning. At the most un-godly hour of the day, just so it doesn't conflict with anybody else's post. Where: A dark scary alley way Reason: /whining/ Because I want to be weird too! :) Kenny laughed evilly. "Mwa-ha-ha-ha-ha! This is going to be fun!" He dug in jacket through his katana space looking for his mini-katana. He'd developed an evil k'immie-like plan to lure Amanda from her safe haven at her hotel and take her head once and for all. Kenny pulled out another object from his katana space, and set to work... A few seconds later, a lovely red "X" stood beneath a large contraption involving an anvil (not the wombat, the object), a pulley, and some motion sensors. He put the spray paint (labled ACME) back in his katana space and waited for Amanda to show up. He wasn't disappointed. "Hello?" came a lovely female voice from just outside the alley. "Are you there?" Amanda spent the entire time questioning her judgement about agreeing to meet Kenny in a dark, scary alley in the middle of the night. Finally she shook those thoughts out of her head. If the dirty rat tried to pull anything, why, she'd just get out her whip and her sword and be done with him. Kenny came out of his hiding space behind a dumpster. "Amanda," he whined pathetically, in his best good-little-boy voice. "I need help! There's these mortals! They're after me! You gotta help me!" Amanda shook her head. "Is that what this is about? They have good reason to be after you! What were you thinking when you brought that stink bomb to the christening?! It ruined a perfectly good dress! I had to build an entirely new whip-space in another dress! Do you know how difficult that is?!" Little did she know, but as she approached him slowly, getting angrier by the second, she was approaching the big red "X" Kenny had painted under his dirty little trap. Kenny hid a k'immie grin. "But Amanda...!" he continued. "They keep killing me! Over and over and over and over and over and over and over!" Secretly, he was just waiting for her to take one more step. Just get that much closer to the big red "X." *YES!* he breathed a mental sigh of relief. It shouldn't take too long for the motion sensors to kick in. She was standing *right beneath them!* "Look, Kenny! I have nothing more to say to you. We were friends once, but that was 800 years ago!" With that, she turned on her heal and went back to her hotel. Kenny frowned. That definitely wasn't supposed to happen. Why weren't the motion sensors working? ACME was supposed to be incredibly reliable. He climbed up the fire escape that decidedly had *not* been there a moment ago to check out the contraption he'd set up from the window above. The motion sensors were all in place, blinking as they should, and all in all working properly. His frown deepened. What could be the problem? Suddenly the fire escape dissolved beneath him and he landed in a dumpster which had also not been there a moment ago. Meanwhile, the motion sensors picked up motion directly below. The anvil fell. "Oof!" he said as he blacked out in the pile of rotten oranges, coffee grinds, fast food, and other delectable goodies. Far off in the distance, a roadrunner cried, "Beep, beep!" ------------------------------------------------------ janier@ix.netcom.com =========================================================================== Date: Wed, 27 Mar 1996 11:16:59 +0300 From: Antonia Mandry Subject: WAR: The Importance of Being A Wombat Title: The Importance of Being a Wombat Author: Toni When: Late, late, late at night. Long after the party is over, but long before the next morning. At the most un-godly hour of the day, just so it doesn't conflict with anybody else's post. Where: A dark scary alley way Reason: Must have mother back in the picture Toni (Toni Mandry not Holm) rolled over in her bed. She loved her bed, it was sooo warm and comfortable (especially with her ugly brown scratchy Peruvian blacnket). Whenever there was a decision to be made between eating or sleeping, sleeping always won out. She didn't have to wake up for her fencing class for another couple of hours (it was foil anyway, she could miss that; she liked saber better anyway). She snuggled into her stuffed tiger names Roscoe Beauregard McHugh and attempted to drift into a deeper sleep. That was before, of course, the Trenchcoat Brigade showed up. "Wake up Toni!" Zeke yelled hopping up on the lower bunk to peer into her eyes better (Toni sleeps on the top bunk). In the process he woke up her roommate, Cat, which is hard to do. "Meow!" she yelpt, and scratched at his toe (which didnt help since he had boots on). Zeke smiled serenly and started staring unnervingly ... oh, God, thought Toni, he knows I hate that. "Wake up, twit. God is in a perverse mood today." Toni groaned, she knew from experience that the day was gonna be scary when Zeke started arguing about God this early. Of course, she thought, I should be thankful that he hasn't started arguing *with* God. At that moment, Sondre started playing with Edgar der Ente (her stuffed duck that squeaks). Zeke started muttering, "Why do you do this to me? What is it in you nature that makes you so? Are you bored?" Oh, no, she thought to herself, he's talking to God again. Toni stuck her head out of her scratchy blanket and blearily blinked around. Yep, they were here. Sondre: gorgeous and with trenchcoat, Zeke: cute, hatted, and with trenchcoat, Guppy: philosophetic looking with wild hair and ... no trenchcoat. "Argh!" she yelled in terror and jumped out of bed. Thump. It was a pretty loud thump for all that she weighed only 116 pounds. Unfortunately, everybody was taller then her so she couldn't glare as effectively as she would have liked. Guppy spoke up, "You were going to tell us some more stories ..." Cat mumbled, " About shoes and ships and sealing wax ..." Sondre: "Cabbages and 'bats." This from the guy who plays with too much chain mail. Hmmm. Toni shoved them all out while she got dressed and then they all gathered around the computer .... humming all the while, "The Tide is High, and I'm over you, I wanna be your kangaroo ..." Mother shook off the spooky feeling. After her conversation with Randy a week ago and the one just now at the christening, she had felt very depressed. It wasn't her fault that she had these tendencies. At one point it had gotten so bad that she had had to leave school because of it. She couldn't muse on her little problem now as she had other bigger problems on her hands ... like Horton. Good thing she hadn't gotten drunk at the party like some people she could mention. The group of trenchcoats had gathered in a dark alleyway next to their favorite deserted warehouse for this meeting. The three men and lone woman were discussing in hushed voices the circumstances for this hasty rendezvous when a series of quiet shuffles alerted them to an arrival. At first all they saw was the shadow of some bear-like, tailless animal ... out of that shadow however, walked Mother. Mother had been talking to a bunch of her informants: Zeke, Sondre, Guppy and Cat, whom she had nicknamed the Trenchcoat Brigade (they were not in any group or faction, per se, but wore trenchcoats, black hats and were philosophizers-- none of the four were called by their real names) who all agreed that Kenny was a total trip and was on his way to trying to foul up a good I.M. -- Duncan MacLeod in particular. Ma wasn't too upset with this as her own mind was divided. The conversation went something like this: Sondre: Well, despite the fact that Kenny is one of our boys, we're not too distressed if he buys it ... Ma: Well, even though he is sort of a jerk, he does have some great things like Lavender peeps and Coca Cola-- though actually I'm startin to hate Coke. Zeke: If there was a God, he would strike down Kenny and MacLeod at the same time. But of course even if there was a God that wouldn't necessarily mean he was good ... Sondre: or even sentient Cat: AARARARGGGHHH!! Somebody shut them up! Guppy knocked both their heads together Ma: That's enough of that. Anything I should know about. Cat: The chronicle is missing. Ma: I *know* that! My wombat network told me. Guppy: I have to get back to my day job you know. I work as UPS delivery guy. Ma: You're kidding. You're too slight to be able to lift anything heavy. Guppy sulks: Well, Sondre helps. A tad bit distracted by a yellow duck that floated across the screen, Sondre responds to his name: Eh? Cat: Kassim just got electrocuted, Kenny got thumped badly by various falling objects, there's an Immie by the name of Kinman running around ... Ma: Wait a minute, that can't be ... Kinman is dead. Zeke: Nah. That's another Kinman. God saw fit to make two of 'em. Cat: God forbid. Zeke: Hey! Trying to drag his attention away from the random squeaking, Sondre informed Mother that, "Kinman the #2 has actually put out some feelers for the Chronicle and for the anti-Hortons. It seems he thinks Horton smells quite badly." Ma smiled, "That's as good a reason as any to get rid of him. Thanks for the info, guys." She paused as Cat and Zeke got untangled, which took a while since Cat had gotten her hair tangled around Zeke's button. "And keep me informed. I'll follow up on these K'Immies." Mother looked at her watch. Okay, she thought, I have just enough time to get to the meeting with Comet." And with that she disappeared into the darkened shadows. As the T.B. watched her go, Cat murmured, "I wonder what she really wants with those K'immies." Sondre responded, "Who really cares? And it's none of our business anyway." Zeke retorted, "You're rather dim, aren't you, Sondre? Of course it's our business. We're God's agents. Right, sir?" He looked up at the sky, while the others looked at him strangely and then left him there conversing with the sky. The alleyway was dark and dank, just like 'bats liked 'em. A furry little creature with a white streak on her back left paw scrabbled over to the other unidentifiable creature and whuffled something that sounded like, "Mrph." An observer would at that point have been treated to a sight quite unlike anything else as the brown furry creatures morphed into two rather attractive women. One was named after an astral figure and the other had an aura of authority about her (or maybe that was aroma- wombats kinda smell funny you know) that could only be attributed to someone in charge. The taller one, Comet, spoke, "Yes, mother?" Comet towered over Mother. 5'11" with reddish brown hair and blue eyes she was pretty much as opposite to Mother in looks as possible. Mother looked up, glaring convincingly despite her rather short height, "Comet, Comet, Comet. How many times have I told you about the dangers in staying in wombat form too long. Look. I have checked the records and you have been in 'bat form for most of the war." She looked expectantly at Comet. Comet made no comment. Mother sighed, "I understand the temptations of staying in furry form, but once in a while you have to remember you are human." Comet finally commented, "I'm sorry, Mother, I'll try to do better." Mother added, "And don't go off on tangents either. I've noticed that you sometimes start thing without talking to anybody first. Remember to check in at all times." Comet nodded abashedly. At that moment, the two ladies saw a tow-haired kid wander into the alleyway. He had all this garbage all over him and he stank. He looked really tired too. Mother's eyes widened and, "Hssst," she said to Comet, "'bat form now and scatter!" The two woman morphed quickly into the furry creatures without tails and scampered away. One of them, however, hid behind a dumpster instead of leaving. Kenny walked tiredly near to her and sat down. He reeked of Coca-Cola and had something that looked and smelled like Lavendar Peeps tangled in his hair. The wombat peered around the corner its eyes glistening, and then shuffled towards the sleeping 800-year-old. Sniffing around the boy, the wombat grinned, sat down, and started licking all the yummies off of him. The wombat started imagining the kid saying, "Stick with me, 'bat, and you'll never go hungry again." When Kenny woke up he was all clean and a furry body was curled up against him, snoring. He peered down at his little friend and smiled, Thank God there was one creature on earth that didn't want to pound him. Neither of them noticed the second wombat still hovering around, watching. Toni M. = CFW for Kinman,Cord & Methos' Sword/FW for Kalas/Vaquera with pretensions to Cousinhood/Skinner fan/Chief Wombat (no tails!)/Dueser (Dief devotee)/Kermit lover/Trekkie /"I drank what?!" (courtesy of my Cat) the Cat speaks? The chinchilla types!? MA97AD14@acs.wooster.edu <\/\/\/\/\/\//\/[-- =========================================================================== Date: Sat, 30 Mar 1996 14:01:10 -0400 From: Antonia Mandry Subject: War: Wombat Fodder Title: Wombat Fodder Author: Antonia Mandry (Toni, m'dears) When: Thursday morning: 3 am Where: Four Seasons The wombat weaved toward the hotel in a grumpy mood. Forgetting that she was in furry creature mode, she stumbled up to the front desk and grumbled, "One room please, charge it to this Mastercard." She slammed the card on the desk (she jumped a few times to be able to make it). The concierge looked down his nose at her. "My dear, madame, sir or it,as the case may be. We do not serve animals here. This is a respectable establishment." As the wombat began to puff up indignantly, he continued, "Besides, we only take American Express." He surreptitiously moved his elbow over the sign that said, __All credit cards accepted__. The wombat was depressed, not to mention tired so she didn't start yelling as she usually did. She made as if to go, and when the concierge had turned away, scurried to the coat room and made a nest for herself. Damn, she thought, no room service. She started to snooze but was awoken momentarily by a rumply soudning guy arguing with the concierge (what a jerk, she thought, the concierge, not the rumpily sounding guy). She didn't perk up, however, until she heard, "Let's discuss it later, OK? So it's a date. Tonight at Joe's at 6, then dinner after. We'll go somewhere classy, quiet, refined, elegant, where we can go over our plans for the next few days in peace. It'll be nice, I promise. Tablecloths, cloth napkins, and everything." Joe's? the wombat thought, ahhh, the Watcher. this must be interesting. I must have stumbled into the place where all the MFW's were staying (or anybody remotely related to this war). The wombat didn't have any further time to ruminate, however, because at that moment the concierge wandered into the coatroom. "Eeeeekk!!" he yelped. And started towards her with a broom. Nuts, she thought. She quickly morphed into human form, kicked him in the shins, morphed back into wombat form while he was still confused and bit him on the knee (not the ankle, since that was reserved for Immie's). And then she flew--not like those ravens, she just ran real fast. ------------------------------------------------------ Ma WOmbat Wombat Extraordinaire ... I can fly I can dance I can be a ... well, never mind ma97ad14@acs.wooster.edu =========================================================================== Date: Sat, 30 Mar 1996 09:16:10 -0500 From: Polly Hood Subject: Subject 'War: You want my cat to ride *where*?' Title: You Want My Cat to Ride *Where*? Author: Polly Hood, Prophet of Procrastination When: Thursday 5:00a (Houston time) Where: Home..Industrial Wastelands south of Houston Why: To practice my run-on sentences Polly kinked her neck back to look at the clock that used to be a clock radio."5:00 A.M.!,"she moaned,"my first day off in seven days... why am I awake at 5:00 A.M.?? Oh, well, another week of shift work, another twenty million brain cells dead. Who wants to think forever?" One golden glimmer of hope... two rooms away, the coffee pot was waiting. Soon she sipped her first cup of new life, and fired up AOL to check for e-mail.Pandora,her Balinese cat (who was a ferret in a former life) popped out of the desk's cubby-hole knocking out a couple of diskette boxes by way of a 'good morning'. "Let's see," Polly mused, breathing coffee fumes and slowly focusing on the monitor,"message from Sherry... Kiri graduates with honors from puppy social skills class... from Laura Michaels...'Hi,will meet you near Gate 17 at the Seacouver airport, 10 A.M. PST'...." Time stood still.Then lurched.The gulp of hot coffee went down too fast as Pandora,the Balinese ferret-cat did her best double spring from the scanner to Polly's lightly clad lap,and up to the top of the fish tank. "Uuullpp!" yelped the strangled and impaled cyber-junkie. "Thursday morning! I'm supposed to be on a plane to Seacouver in two hours! Laura and I are meeting Connor and Virginia at the Lambert Inn. I have to be there to make sure Virginia keeps this story PG since she keeps writing herself all the parts with Connor in them. I've gotta move!!! Wonder if Connor will remember me from DragonCon last summer? He was having his share of problems then,too." "I'm not even packed...wonder what the well-dressed Flag-Waver is wearing this Spring? Let's see...Mary's christening party is over unless it's turned into a marathon event. Jeans and a selection of Highlander T-shirts in colors that won't show too much cat and wombat hair should do fine.Throw in a couple of bulky sweaters...hey, it works for the MacLeods. Raingear? I can't remember the last time it rained on the show,but I think a London Fog trench would be appropriate. Musn't forget my lucky teddy bear, either. Sword? Hmm... Too much hassle at the airport." She tossed off the rest of the coffee. "C'mon, Pandora! We're going to Seacouver! Somebody's got to make sure Connor gets at least as many good lines as those other guys." PollyH425@aol.com (alias PontoonPol) =========================================================================== Date: Sat, 30 Mar 1996 03:39:13 -0500 From: Rob Distante Subject: WAR: So Far, Soak Good "Tiny Bubbles -- in the Sea Tiny Bubbles -- (you mean there really are words to this?)" ---- Don Ho, Hawaiian Deity Title: So Far, Soak Good Author: Rob Distante When: Thursday morning, 6-7 AMish Where: The Four Season's Hotel (Following: "Shadows After Midnight") "Hey buddy, this belong to you?" Rob woke up, startled, still floating in the bubbling, enchanted jacuzzi. Face up, thank goodness. He saw a member of the cleaning crew bending over to pick up a hotel keycard. , Rob shuddered as the man mooned him. Rob was definitely getting the once-over from the janitorial technician - he must not be used to seeing someone in a slightly tattered, charcoal gray suit floating in the pool at 6 AM. Well - *live* someones, anyway. Rob nodded, and the housekeeping facilitator handed him the keycard. Damn, he could almost *hear* the gears turning in the ecological custodian's head. Rob knew, without a doubt, the guy was about to make some really annoying smartass comment, and he just wasn't in the mood. So he pointed to the sign on the wall, and shrugged. "Co-ed Bathing Facilities: Suits Required" Beaten without a single word, the environmental engineer's shoulders dropped in resignation as he turned and shuffled off into the locker room. ------------------------------------------------------ Rob walked slowly out of the magic puddle, gallons of water dripping out of his clothing and onto the floor. Several live fishes fell out of his kilt, flopping around on the ground, as he looked over at Ramirez - , Rob thought. . He smiled to himself. Guess he had to 'dry out' for a while - he knew Seacouver had the biggest Highlander Addiction Clinic in the world, but hopefully he wouldn't have to visit... again... so soon after his last stay. Rob started peeling off wet clothes as he retrieved his trenchcoat and toaster and looked for a phone. Somehow, he wasn't surprised to see fur sticking out of the appliance, and the little creature he had befriended was nestled in the darkness inside. He picked up a courtesy phone and asked to be connected to Joanne Curme's room. The phone rang several times, and Rob cursed under his breath. She must be out looking for him, and was she gonna be so *MAD*...! And Rob knew how vicious pissed-off females could be. <*thump*> " 'Lo? " " Hi? Joanne? " "Oh, Rob, I'm sorry, I must've fallen asleep again!" Joanne apologized. "And... I've been waiting for you all this time... ?" Rob offered. "Rats, I'm sorry! Guess we're even, then. Where are you?" "Um, washing up at the health club. I think I have a room, too," he said, looking at the keycard the staffmember had given him. "Why don't you come up?" Rob thought about his recent difficulty remembering room numbers. No way. "Why don't you come down to meet me?" "See you in fifteen," Joanne agreed. ------------------------------------------------------ Rob laid his clothes out to dry in the sauna. , he hoped. He looked at the soggy mass that used to be his favorite suit. . , Rob thought, . He went to the showers to wash the remnants of the previous day from his waterlogged flesh. Thank God the attendant had offered him a complimentary toothbrush and toothpaste - insisted on it, in fact, just before he ran off... , he thought, looking at skin wrinkled almost beyond recognition. . He looked at his waterlogged toes. ------------------------------------------------------ Joanne entered the health club, looking around for Rob. she thought to herself. With a shock, she recognized a figure from afar, and it sure as heck wasn't Rob! . She started forward - and was abruptly grabbed from behind, a hand firmly clamped over her mouth, and gently propelled into the steam room. She rounded on her assailant - and saw a very blurry looking Rob, with his index finger over his lips. "He's not the only one here... " he whispered conspiratorially. "Nice shorts, Raisin Boy," Joanne smirked. ------------------------------------------------------ Rob Distante, K'immie Brigadier Sensei Rob@aol.com =========================================================================== Date: Sat, 30 Mar 1996 12:15:36 -0800 From: Paradise Cowgirl Subject: WAR: Hitting the Road Title: Hitting the Road Author: Darci Chapman When: Thursday 3/21 6:00am Where: Portland, OR Reason: Someone from the Connor faction has got to BE there :-) The radio started blaring a jazz saxaphone in midsong. Groggily, Darci rolled over and slammed her hand on the snooze button. Ten minutes later, it was a brassy trumpet that finally caused Darci to peel her eyes open. She glared at the clock radio that glared back "6:11" in luminous green digits. "Now why on earth...," Darci mumbled to herself. Then she remembered. A War. In Seacouver. She was going to have the pleasure of driving north for a few hours. Well, the sooner she got started the better. By seven, she was in her BMW headed for I-5 northbound. She had called ahead and confirmed her reservation at the Lambert Inn (under C MacLeod) and had gotten directions while she was at it. She had grown up in Seattle and even though she hadn't visited Seacover in quite awhile, she didn't expect that she would have any problems finding her way around. As she continued north, she thought back to the first and only time she met Connor. ------------------------------------------------------ [my own little flashback of the one and only time i met connor; this will be in a seperate post] ------------------------------------------------------ Suddenly, her radar detector went off, shaking her out of her reverie. She saw that her speedometer had crept up to just above 75mph. She hit the brakes and quickly moved into the right lane behind a vehicle doing about 65mph. "Darci," she started to lecture herself, "you're really gonna get nailed one of these days." And sure enough, just around the next bend was a state patrol looking for those who liked to drive too fast. As she passed by him, she watched her rearview mirror; he wasn't pulling out. She sighed in relief. Speeding tickets were a bit harder to write off :-) Rather than let her mind wander around in the past anymore, she let herself enjoy the scenery. The sun was up and it was looking like a very nice day. The rest of the drive went smoothly. When she came to her exit, she took it and followed the directions to Lambert Inn. As she pulled into the parking log, she glanced at the clock on the dash. Eleven o'clock. , she thought. . She parked in the check-in spot and walked into the lobby. The lobby was nice and spacious but not overly auspicious. There was a tall counter at the far end lobby so Darci headed over in that direction. She couldn't see anybody around minding the store so she rang the bell twice, smartly. A woman who looked to be about 45 or so came from the back out towards the counter. "Can I help you, ma'am?", the woman asked. "Hi, I have a reservation under C. MacLeod," Darci replied, trying not to lose patience already. She hated being called ma'am. "Hmmm... let me take a look." She rummaged around a bit, found something and then eyed me more closely. "Says here that there are four rooms under that name." "I'll take just one," Darci replied quickly, hoping to forestall any questions she wasn't up to answering just yet. "And are there any messages?" "I'll check. Here, you'll need to fill this out." She slid a form Darci's way and turned to look for messages farther behind the counter. Darci started filling out the form and the clerk placed a piece of paper on the counter. "Yes, one message." "Thanks." Darci finished up the form and reached for the message. She read it as the clerk finished up the form and got the key to the room. Darci, Welcome to Seacouver. Flight info is as follows: Continental flight #320 arrival 11:47a Meet you back here around 1:30 this afternoon. -LM "Here's your key, room number 1017. Go down the hallway, take the elevator to the top floor. Go to your left, near the end of hall. Will there be anything else?" "Not that I know of," Darci muttered under her breath. "What was that?" "No, that's fine. Thanks." Darci headed to the room which she found easily enough. Taking just enough time to drop her bags and check the room, she turned around and headed back out to her car and to the airport. ------------------------------------------------------ -Darci -- Connor Faction (yes, we're coming :-) "It's a kind of magic." "there's roads and there's roads and they call, can't you hear it? roads of the earth and roads of the spirit the best roads of all are the ones that aren't certain one of those is where you'll find me 'til they drop the big curtain" -bruce cockburn =========================================================================== Date: Sat, 30 Mar 1996 22:48:52 -0500 From: anonymous Subject: War: Ah, Seacouver! Title: 'Ah, Seacouver !' Author: Polly Hood When: Thursday around 10:00a Where: Seacover International Airport Why: Just getting warmed up! So of course, when I get off the plane in Seacouver, it's raining. Good excuse to wear the trenchcoat. Looking over the milling group of arrivals and departures, I see a petite brunette over near the windows. She has long rain-frizzled hair and is alternately shaking and thumping a cellular phone. "Hey, Laura!," I yell discreetly when I'm about halfway over to her, "Made it!!" The young lady in question jumps about six inches and juggles the cell phone to keep from dropping it. "Say, you look kinda jumpy." Laura begins to breath again. "Oh, hi, Polly," she said rather weakly, "I'm so glad you're finally here! And you're wearing a long coat...maybe that will make them think twice about messing with us." "Yeah, well, I didn't bring my katana. You know what a hassle it is to get them on a plane if you don't really have an immie katana space to stash them in. Besides, it's just the kind you hang on the wall...you know, that one I won in the Christopher Lambert Trivia contest last summer. So what are you saying? You think someone's after you? Here??" "I don't know," Laura said, glancing around. "I was just trying to get in touch with some of the gang over at Richie's place, just in case, but this darn thing's decided to quit on me." Laura's nevousness was beginning to be contagious. I took the phone from her and punched *4*. "Your battery's too low. When's the last time you had a chance to charge it?" She stared at me. "Charge it? I figured it would last for the whole war, at least! We just bought the stupid things. Hope the battery charger for the TV/VCR will work with these size batteries." Laura disgustedly shoved the phone into a large, and well-loaded-looking bag. "Guess we're on our own." "Exactly who did you see?" I asked. My morning caffeine was long gone, and I wasn't feeling too confident. "Oh,****! I've gotta go down to baggage to get Pandora!" "Pandora? You mean Darci? Did she e-mail you? Virginia mentioned that Darci's screen name was Pandora. I didn't know you two knew each other." "What? I haven't got a clue who you mean. Pandora's my cat. She had to ride in baggage. So who did you see that looked suspicious?" "Okay, see that guy over by the Pulse machine?" she said, twitching a thumb in the general direction. "You mean that guy in a long raincoat carrying a trombone case?" I replied, trying not to stare too long. "He looks like Horton, don't you think? And it would be easy to fit an axe into that case." I glanced again at the man in question. What I really thought was that he must be all of 5 feet 6 inches and weigh in at about 225, but I kept it to myself. "Yeah, well, I guess it doesn't hurt to be careful. We'll just watch ourselves and see if he follows us to baggage claim. By the way, Laura, I guess its been pretty hard to get a good night's sleep over at Richie's place with all those flag-wavers crammed in there, huh?" "You wouldn't believe the half of it," Laura sighed wearily. "That's why I got the rooms at the Lambert Inn. I'm really counting on a nap before Virginia and Connor arrive." "Sounds good to me, too, after something to eat. Bet it's gonna be non-stop once everyone shows up. If you like, Pandora can nap with you. She's a great little knee warmer. You're gonna love her! Laura thought, trying to smile pleasantly, "Um, Polly, why exactly did you decide to bring Pandora?" Thought she might come in handy. She can squeeze through a 3 inch opening. I used to come home and find her in the stove drawer when she was a kitten. And she can retrieve stuff. Of course, being a cat, she's a little picky about what she retrieves. Laura asked herself. They headed for the baggage area. Polly cheerfully extolling the virtues of her cat, and trying to spot a snackbar. Laura resigned to just about anything except missing that nap. As they walked away, the man with the trombone case hung up his phone and began to walk in the same direction. Polly Hood PollyH425@aol.com =========================================================================== Date: Sun, 31 Mar 1996 03:33:33 -0500 From: Rob Distante Subject: WAR: Holy Springs, Batman! "Just when you thought it was safe to go back in the water... " Title: Holy Springs, Batman! Author: Rob Distante When: Early morning, after an overheard meeting . . . Where: Four Seasons Hotel Rob and Joanne were all hot and sweaty after their stimulating experience in the steam room. She plucked at her sweatshirt, wondering why in the world she had chosen to wear this outfit in a sauna. Grinning at Joanne's discomfort, Rob read her mind. "What's more appropriate in here than a sweat suit? At least you know it works." ------------------------------------------------------ "You can't be a doer all the time, sometimes you have to just Watch," Joanne smiled, "Who'd have thought we'd have learned all that at a chance meeting?" "Disappointed you didn't have to break into anything, are you?" Rob joked. "Adam, Horton, the War, the Chronicles... interesting stuff." ------------------------------------------------------ As Rob and Joanne left the steam room, they spotted movement behind a rack of dumbbells. , Rob thought. Kenny popped his head up from behind the rack, with a shocked look on his face at having been discovered. "NOT AGAIN!!" they all shouted simultaneously. Rob started cautiously towards Kenny, not wanting to slip a second time on the wet tile. Meanwhile Kenny, in his haste to escape, collided with the weight rack. Kenny crashed to the ground, tipping the rack - and a series of dumbbells pummeled him as they fell from their places. winced Joanne. Shaking his head, Rob reached the battered boy and hauled him up by the seat of his burgundy pants. , thought Rob in disgust. "Bath will do ya a world of good, punk," Rob sneered as he carried the reviving Kenny towards the pool. Methos opened the door from the locker room, curious about the sudden commotion. He saw Joanne watching Rob carry Kenny towards the jacuzzi. "But I had a bath yesterday, at the Christening!" Kenny protested. "It only SEEMS like six days ago! Nooooo!!!" *splash* The lights, jets, and bubbles kicked in as Kenny stood up, sputtering, suddenly enveloped by a mystical blue glow . . . Adam looked at the wantonly magical display in disgust. . He slammed the door behind him. ------------------------------------------------------ Kenny stopped, transfixed. He wasn't in the hotel hot tub anymore. He was in a cave: mysteriously well-lit, although he could sense it was deep underground; strangely clean, although it had been supposedly lost for 13 centuries; oddly containing both Christian and pagan religious symbols, although it was supposed to represent politically correct yet generic holy ground -- and he stood knee-deep in a pool of glowing blue water. He heard a noise from behind a stalagmite. Stepping out of the pool, he noticed he was wearing inexplicably dry clothes. He carefully tiptoed around the column and saw... himself. Only this 'other' self was wearing Guess jeans and a pink polo shirt (complete with animal emblem) with the collar turned up. His hair was carefully parted on the left side, and a smattering of freckles splayed across his nose and rosy cheeks. A cheery smile graced his angelic features. A Power Rangers backpack hung from one shoulder, and Kenny could just see the corner of an algebra book and a page of handwritten homework with a red "A+ Good Job!" peeking out. His socks matched, and Kenny was sure his underwear had been washed and ironed that very morning. The horrible spectre approached, holding something in its hand. With a shock Kenny realized it was a wombat's tail. Feeling something odd, Kenny touched his ear. He frantically searched around for something to defend himself with. He brushed against a shield with a weird spiral design, knocking it to the floor. He picked the shield up quickly, but the noise had disturbed a group of critters watching from a little hole in the wall, and a score of wombats came tumbling down and rolled across the floor to land at Kenny's feet. "You have to help us! Fight your other half! You have to defeat him!" Other wombat voices raised. "No, you won't really be *defeating* him, you'll be *integrating* him." "No, you'll be *repressing* him." "No, he'll still be part of you, but you'll be *controlling* him." "No, you'll never control him entirely, but you'll be able to *deal* with him." A recently deceased horse raised its head from the pool, but a whip cracked out of nowhere and it slowly slid back under the surface. The wombats turned back to Kenny and wailed plaintively with one loud cry, "The alternative is unthiiiiiiinkable!" Suddenly Kenny understood everything. The mysterious wombat that had befriended him, the garbage dumpster, the toaster, even the ferrets. It all made sense now. His head swam and his chest almost burst as he realized the importance of the decision he had to make. All the knowledge, experience and training of his 800 years of life were in preparation for these next few minutes. This was his Destiny. Slowly he turned and faced his other self. ------------------------------------------------------ The two Kennys sparred. Polo Ken wielded the wombat tail with the expertise of, well, an expert. Grunge Ken (he *did* look rather grungy, he admitted) blocked his attacks with the shield, whose spiral design he still couldn't determine as pagan or Christian in origin, although the NutraSweet corporation vehemently tried to deny any allegations of such copyright infringement. Knocking a stalactite from the ceiling while blocking a blow, Grunge Ken realized the fallen chunk of rock had a loose piece of stone still barely attached: a long, narrow handle with a couple of smaller spikes at one end. "Give in, Kenny," said Polo Ken. "You know I'm stronger. You know I'll win." Around Polo Ken had gathered dozens, no, hundreds, of wombats, all with tails, all waving them in unison. They were humming showtunes, and Grunge Ken swore they were holding paws. "We can be friends. I'll help you with your homework. You can play my Boyz2Men albums and borrow my dirt bike any time you want. We'll be stronger together, better, happier. Everything will be fine." Grunge Ken slowly lowered his shield arm. This siren's song was so alluring, so peaceful, so darned... *nice*. He looked up at the cherub and visions of warm spring days danced before his eyes. He saw himself playing volleyball with the neighborhood kids, helping old ladies across the street, buying Girl Scout cookies for once instead of his usual grab-and-run method of acquisition. The tailess wombats behind him saw him weaken and started to wail again. "Waaaaaa - a - a - a - a - a - ah ah ah - ah ah... " "A - wee - mo - way," countered the opposing faction. Their eerie groans filled the cavern and echoed unmercifully, shaking the foundations of good taste. Kenny clapped his hands over his ears. No, he wouldn't listen, he couldn't -- he wanted to go to this stranger, to give him a high-five, to punch him in the arm in an ancient, appropriate yet restrained male-bonding ritual, to shout "Dude!" and give him a thumbs-up and split a Dr Pepper. Kenny took a step forward. Suddenly the air in front of him turned green and crackled. A flash of lightning blinded Grunge Ken, and when he could see again, he fell back in amazement and fear. A single weasel carrying a briefcase stood on a small mound between them. >From Grunge Ken's vantage point he could just make out the tip of something -- a dart? -- protruding from where her heart should be, but he knew from pawing through stolen National Geographics that weasels had no hearts. The weasel shimmered in the smoke and light; he could see the wall right through her. "A ghost..." Grunge Ken gasped. "I HAVE COME TO SAVE YOU!! YOU MUST NOT LISTEN TO HIM!! HE WAS PAID OFF BY SPECIAL INTEREST GROUPS AND DOES NOT REPRESENT THE TRUE VOICE OF THE PEOPLE!! I HAVE PRIVILEGED INFORMATION FROM A FORMER EMPLOYEE THAT I WILL SHARE WITH YOU UNDER THE PROPER CIRCUMSTANCES!! WE CAN REACH AN AGREEMENT!! THIS OFFER IS CONTINGENT UPON CERTAIN TERMS AND CONDITIONS BEING MET!! NO PURCHASE NECESSARY - YOU MUST BE 18 TO ENTER!! PRICE DOES NOT INCLUDE TAX, TITLE, OR DESTINATION CHARGE. OFFER NOT AVAILABLE WHERE PROHIBITED BY LAW!! " On the other side of the mound, the air shimmered again and the faint outline of a large, grizzled dragon appeared. "Often confused us people get," the dragon rumbled slowly and calmly. "Listen to her must you not. Know you the path right and wrong of. Heart your must follow you. This I know...satellite dish have I." Both visions started to waver. Grunge Ken turned in confusion from one back to the other. Just as she disappeared, the weasel called out one last caveat, her voice fading into the distance. "USE THE LOOSE...FORK..." Kenny snapped back to attention, the spell broken. Whipping his head around, Kenny's eyes fell on the stalactite nearby. Yes, the loose piece of stone *did* look like a fork. He pried the weapon off the rock and advanced on the freshly scrubbed and polished figure of Polo Ken, who had ignored the entire interlude and was now lining up the tailed wombats in order of height and fur color. "Want to play? It's one of my favorite games. Grampa always said every day you play with a wombat adds another year to your life." Polo Ken had not yet noticed the wicked-looking utensil in Grunge Ken's hand. "No, I *won't* play with you, I *won't* help old ladies across the street, I *won't* listen to your stupid records, and I *WON'T* have any part of you!" Kenny plunged the weapon into Polo Ken's heart. "Help me! I'm melting!" Polo Ken slowly dissolved into the ground, leaving a really really clean spot on the cave floor to mark his passing. All the wombats began to scream and run around in confusion, and Kenny was knocked into the pool again. Raising up his head and spluttering, he felt a gentle rain on his head, and the blue glow of the pool surrounded him. The scent of chlorine wafted through the air. "Kenny...Kenny...Kenny...Kenny..." Kenny snapped back to reality, and saw the hot tub he was immersed in was dark and motionless. He waded to the side with some difficulty and crawled out, leaving behind filthy gray water and an oily ring. "Was that really necessary?" Joanne said to Rob. "One shouldn't soak without bathing first. It's an oriental thing. The maids get upset." Kenny glared indignantly. "This is an English body and it can wash itself!" Rob grabbed Kenny by the scruff of the neck. "At least *this* one kept his clothes on. What some people won't do for a bet..." He started dragging Kenny toward the locker room. "C'mon, punk. Tell me what you heard. And you'll have to come clean this time -- we're gonna use soap!" Rob marched Kenny towards the lockers. "You better scrub your plans of escaping me THIS time! No chance of a clean getaway, unless you get away clean. Soap far, soak good. Perhaps a little bit of brainwashing will do our cause some good!" "I'll get you, Kenny." "$%$#^* !!" Kenny cursed. "And that little mouth of yours, too." K'immie Brigade. Joanne Curme (jcurme@pyramid.com) Rob Distante (Sensei Rob@aol.com) =========================================================================== Date: Fri, 29 Mar 1996 21:18:02 -0500 From: Karen Droms Subject: WAR: Breakfast at Joe's Bar Title: Breakfast at Joe's Bar (with "That River" playing in the background) Author: Karen Droms When: Morning Where: Joe's Bar "Where are they?" Joe was getting nervous. Se'ilidhe showed up at the bar yesterday to give him the Chronicle and unknowingly followed his note to the christening, ending up in the middle of the war. He realized that the Christening, surrounded by various flag wavers, Kimmies, and bad potato salad (not to mention the flying umbrellas), was not the best place to discuss the Chronicle. He had sent her off with Karen to her hotel, thinking they both stood the best chance of staying out of the middle of the War there. But now, the next morning, he was getting nervous. The group had agreed to meet at the bar early the next morning, but it was already 9:30, and the two still weren't there. He had tried calling the hotel, but there was no answer in Karen's room. Joe got up and walked over to the bar where the coffeepot had been going non-stop since around 7:00 a.m. when the other flag-wavers showed up. Then, just as he reached for the pot, the door to the bar flew open, letting a shaft of sunlight into the gloom. "Is that coffee I smell? Black please, double sweet. How about you, Se'ilidhe?" Karen and Se'ilidhe shrugged out of their coats and hung them on pegs next to the door. "None for me right now, thanks." Se'ilidhe went at sat at a table with Lori and Enmare while Karen headed for Joe and the coffee. "Where have you been? I've been calling your hotel room all morning!" Joe stood close in front of Karen and stared down at her. She could tell he was furious...and worried. With one hand pressed against his chest, Karen told him, "Take a deep breath. Good. Now, take one step back. Better. I'm fine. Se'ilidhe is fine, as you can see. The Chronicle is fine. We went to a different hotel last night and registered under another name just in case someone tried to track us down. And you didn't tell me when to get here this morning; you just said early. You of all people should know I don't do mornings, and this is early for me." Before Joe could respond, Karen went on. "I should have called you to let you know when we would be here. I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking. How about I make breakfast to atone for my sins?" The last she said with a smile, and Joe responded in kind. "Biscuits?" "Of course. You do have the secret ingredient..." "Always. Top shelf, in the back." "OK, let me go see what else is there to make a breakfast out of and then I'll come take orders." As Karen turned towards the kitchen, Joe laid a hand on her shoulder. "Karen..." She turned back to him and saw the look of contriteness on his face. "I shouldn't have jumped down your throat like that, I'm sorry." She reached up and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. "I know. That's what I love and hate about you, your need to take care of everyone. Now, you go take care of that chronicle while I go scrounge around in the kitchen." Karen headed off to the kitchen, and with his cane in one hand and coffee cup in the other, Joe joined the women at the table. "So, where's this Chronicle that's causing so much trouble." Se'ilidhe took a small, obong package from her bag, and laid it on the table. Joe picked it up and unwrapped it. Paging through it, he laid it back down on the table, and said, "This is it, a Methos Chronicle. Horton can't get his hands on this..." ------------------------------------------------------ Karen Droms KDroms@luzerne.edu PSEB PRO, HeLLLion http://www.luzerne.edu Syndi-Con WebWeaver http://www.luzerne.edu/karen/highland/syndicon/syndicon.html =========================================================================== Date: Fri, 29 Mar 1996 23:10:09 -0500 From: "Jimmy Murphy @ GA Southern University" Subject: WAR: Clue Me In, Friend, part one Title: Clue Me In, Friend (Part One) Author: Jimmy Murphy Where: Downtown Seacouver, later to Joe's "Delivery!" Anne says playfully. She is at Amanda's door, with Amanda's missing earring in hand. Amanda opens the door and smiles as Anne steps in, waving said earring. "Where's Mary?" Amanda asks, noticing Anne has only her purse and not that fleet of baby bags weighing her down. "With her godfather....Jimmy is having a ball." Amanda mentally went through the collection of people she had seen at the Christening. "And the godmother...the Versace outfit. Yes, I have that same outfit, y'know....in leopard!" Anne laughed and accepted the seat offered. Anne continued. "My babysitter quit after last night, so I need all the help I can get." Amanda recalled the reaction of the poor woman. "Anything happen after I left?" "Oh, nothing much," Anne said, "crop failures, touch of the plague, visitors from Mars...." Amanda slapped Anne's hand playfully. "That was one hell of a party! I haven't seen a bash like that since..." "The _Titanic_?" Anne volunteered. "Oh, come on...you put Kenny in his place..that was something that needed to be done." Anne obviously did not feel the same way. "I lost it. That is something I never thought I would do...especially on such an occasion. Everyone must have thought I went bananas." Amanda leaned toward Anne and smiled. "You were *great*. Everyone said the 'Kenny toss' was almost as fun as the Potato Salad Toss." "She will send me the cleaning bill, won't she?" Anne asked, still sheepish. "Do you think anyone will ever attend a party at my house again?" "I'm there! What time?" Amanda said, smiling. "I brought you the earring mainly to apologize to you in person..and to Richie, and to Duncan and Joe...it was a disaster, with the catering mishap, Kenny...." "And Horton on the loose.." Amanda added, as if Anne would know what that meant. Anne did not; Amanda instantly realized that she had to change the subject. "Who?" Anne asked. Amanda was torn; tell Anne and make her feel worse, or change the subject and make things light? She changes the subject. "I saw you dancing with Duncan, you sly dog, you..." Still able to savor the moment, Anne smiled. "Not bad considering you two are keeping your distance." Amanda was studying her friend's face to determine just what was running through Anne's mind. Anne gives Amanda a wry smile. "Still hung up on the guy, huh? I can relate." Realizing what Amanda was hinting at, Anne protested, "Oh, no...it's not like that at all. Duncan and I are friends...friends who shared a dance." "Without any of the old feeling coming back?" Amanda asked, genuinely interested in what Anne felt. "Depends on the feeling!" Anne responds, dissolving into laughter with Amanda. "You're so *bad*!" Amanda says. "Must be my good influence!" "Oh, yes!" Anne says playfully. Anne told Amanda that she had always wondered what it was like between Amanda and Duncan, two people being friends and lovers for so long. Amanda reminds Anne that it was not one big, long love affair; "Duncan has his agenda and I have my own. We are just fortunate that our paths cross frequently." Boy, did that sound familiar to Anne. "Everything tells me that I should put Mary first, that I should 'take the bull by the horns' and all that. The men in my life! They breeze in, breeze out, then breeze in again, and all the while I'm telling myself not to let it get to me. We share all this past...a lot of pain, but a lot of good times too, y'know? Just when I think everything's settled...well, the breeze kicks up again." Amanda understands very well. "I always treasured my self-reliance, y'know? As if something in me said I did not need--or should not, anyway--a man around to make me feel complete. I mean, look at us! Smart, attractive, good at what we do....who needs 'em?" Amanda and Anne laugh; Anne places Amanda's earring on the coffee table as she rises. "The *men* in your life?" Amanda asks, aware of the plural. Anne's turn to change the subject. She is not talking entirely about Duncan as the figure in her past. Anne claims that she has to be going because she needs to meet Marie and Donna, who are going to be shopping at Marketplace Mall. "We should get together again soon. Just because Horton's on the loose doesn't mean we can't stick together," Amanda says as they cross the room. "Get the kid a nanny and we'll go clubbing!" Oops. Amanda meant to drop that subject a while ago. "What are you talking about?" Anne asked, a slight annoyance creeping into her voice. "I've heard references to this guy for days, and everyone clams up every time I get near." Amanda tries to cover, practically shoving Anne out the door and saying "Have a nice day" or something. The only reason she was ever kept in the dark about something "big" was when Duncan could not tell her about his Immortality. As she left the building, she had this suspicion that this Horton person might be a threat to everyone she held dear. She hailed a taxi, and instead of heading to meet Marie and Donna at Marketplace Mall, she told the cab driver to take her straight to Joe's bar. ------------------------------------------------------ Jimmy Murphy =========================================================================== Date: Sat, 30 Mar 1996 19:08:28 -0500 From: Karen Droms Subject: WAR: Clue me in Friend, Part two Title: Clue Me In, Friend (Part Two) Author: Karen Droms When: Morning Where: Joe's Bar Smells of fresh baked biscuits started wafting from the kitchen. Karen soon followed with a tray laden with plates of biscuits and fresh fruit sliced into bowls. "Someone wanna give me a hand?" she said as she set the tray on the bar. Lori got up and brought the tray over the table where Joe and Enmare helped unload it. Karen came out with another tray, this one with dishes, glasses, pitchers of fruit juice, a pot of hot chocolate and one of tea, along with butter, honey, and jam for the biscuits. "Planning to feed an army?" Joe was familiar with Karen's habit of cooking for twenty instead of two. It was the result of growing up in a large family, she always said, and besides, she liked leftovers. "We are in the middle of a War aren't we? Somehow I suspect this won't all go to waste." "Maybe to 'hips'," Lori said as she spooned some honey on a steaming hot biscuit. The group enjoyed their breakfast in silence for a bit. The Chronicle remained in the middle of the table, and they were careful not to spill anything on it. After they're initial hunger was satisfied (after the potato salad incident, no one had really trusted the food at the Christening), they got back down to business. "So, what do we have to do?" From her purse, Karen pulled a pad of paper and a pen and started taking notes. Lori, after making sure she had licked all the honey off her fingers, picked up the Chronicle and suggested, "Well, we have to get this thing translated." She flipped through the first couple of pages. "Anyone know any Latin?" As Lori spoke, the door opened. "I do." Everyone turned to see Anne enter the bar. "Well, I am a doctor, I picked up a few things about the language." Anne joined the group at the table, and pulled up a chair. "Mmm, biscuits! May I have one?" Karen passed her a plate and silverware, and said, "Sure, help yourself to anything you want. So, how much Latin do you know." "mmphphmph..." Anne finished the bite of biscuit and started over. "For translation from Latin, a fair amount. I can recognize a lot of the words, and I know a bit about sentence structure. What do you need me to translate?" After exchanging glances with the women, Joe started explaining the story to Anne. "Horton? He was at the Christening! He could have..." "Don't worry, he wouldn't have done anything with everyone around. Horton's much more devious than that." The look on his face said that Joe new exactly how devious Horton could be. Just then, the door to the bar opened again, this time to admit Mike, the bartender. "Hey, someone call a party and forget to invite me?" Mike walked over to the table and reached for the Chronicle. "Wow, what's this?" Before he could touch it, Karen grabbed it and put in on her lap. "Oh, just an old diary...of my great-grandmother. I've been working on the family genealogy, and I need to get it translated." "Maybe I can help, I've done a bit of translating..." "No, that's OK, Anne's going to take a look at it. Say, you know, you might need to check the stock of fruit in the back for the bar. I kind of raided everything in sight trying to put some breakfast together this morning." "OK, sure, no problem." Mike hesitated for just a minute, then went into the kitchen. After making sure he was out of earshot, Karen explained. "I just think the fewer people who know about this the better." Joe agreed. "You're right. Anne, could you take a quick look at the first page and tell us what it says. It looks like a introduction." Popping the last bit of biscuit into her mouth, Anne brushed off her hands, and then took the Chronicle from Karen. She pushed back her plate and laid the opened Chronicle on the table in front of her. "Wow, the ink is pretty faded, I can't make out all the words." "Just do your best." Karen had her pen ready to write down what Anne read. "OK, well, hmmm... it says this is a story...an account actually, of ...I can't quite make out the next part." Anne cleared her throat. "Do you mind pouring me a glass of juice? Thanks." She sipped the juice and went on. "ummm...an account... Then there's something here about 'those who view'...no, that's not it... 'those who watch...'" Anne paused, again and took another sip of juice. "Those biscuits were good, but I think I got something stuck in my throat." Lori got up and headed to the bar. She was surprised to see Mike standing there, cutting fruit. "Could I have a glass of water, please?" "Sure thing!" As Mike put down his knife, Lori glanced down and saw the watcher tattoo on his wrist. "You knew I was in Joe's group, didn't you?" He took a glass form the counter behind the bar, and filled it with water. "Oh sure, I'm just surprised to actually see the tattoo in person, that's all." With glass in hand, Lori went back to the table." "That's it, except for the signature. Methos. Oh, thanks." Anne took the glass from Lori, and sipped some water. Leaning back in her chair, she rubbed her temples. "Are you feeling all right?" Enmare leaned over to Anne, and put a hand on her shoulder. "You had a rough day yesterday." "No, I'm OK, just a little bit of a headache." "Want some aspirin?" "No, really, I'll be fine." Anne cleared her throat again, and sipped some more water. Looking at her notes, Karen said, "So this Chronicle is an account of the founding of the Watchers and something else. And it's written by Methos. Anne, can you read any of the next part?" "Hmmm, what? Oh, umm, let me look. " Anne turned a few more pages, and said "No, I'm sorry, it's all Greek to me." "The writing's that bad, unh?" "No, it's Greek, not Latin, and I can't read Greek. Sorry." Anne handed the book back to Karen. "Excuse me, I need to use the restroom." "So, anyone read ancient Greek?" Lori looked disgusted. After all this they were going to be thwarted by a language barrier. "No, but I have a friend who does." Karen looked at the shocked and dubious faces. "Well, I do! He's a Alexandrine scholar at Penn State. He learned it to read the original texts about Alexander the Great. He knows a few other ancient languages too. And he's a Native American." Not sensing belief from her audience, she explained, "We're both Star Trek fans and we both went to Penn State. I know him through a mailing list!" Now that made sense. Lori asked, "OK, how are we going to get it to him. Penn State's a bit far away." Karen turned to Joe. "Do you still have that computer system I set up for you last year to catalog your Watcher stuff?" "Yea, it's right where you left it." "OK, I can use that to get some pages to Joe. He should be able to get back to us right away." Enmare said, "Let's invite everyone over for a party here tonight. I have an idea..." Everyone looked at Enmare. They knew that look on her face and decided she would let them in on her plan when needed and not a moment before. The bar doors opened again. This time Donna and Marie joined the groups looking for Anne. "She went to the ladies' room." Lori frowned, "You know, she's been there a while. She wasn't looking to good a little while ago." "I'd better go check on her." Just as Donna turned, Anne came into the room. "Donna, you're here. I really don't feel...." With that, Anne collapsed to the floor. Donna rushed over to her and checked her breathing and pulse. She looked up, saw Mike at the bar, and yelled, "Call 911!" She turned back to her patient. "Anne, Anne! Can you hear me?" Getting no response, she tilted Anne's head back and felt for breath coming form her nose and mouth. Anne was breathing shallowly, so Donna checked were pulse. It was weak, but there. "She's breathing. It looks like an allergic reaction...or poison." "They're on there way." Mike put the phone down, and looked at the group standing around the prone woman. "Damn, Joe, how close is the nearest hospital." Donna had her hand on Anne's wrist. "Five minutes at the most, just a couple of blocks." "We can't wait for the ambulance. I have the car outside. Marie, you drive. Mike, help me get Anne in the car." Joe looked at the other women. "I'm going with them. Karen and Lori, try to reach your friend about the translation. Enmare..." "I know what I have to do." Enmare followed the group heading to the car. Joe looked at Karen and Lori. "You two have the Chronicle. You know what that means." "It means I'm right in the middle of it again. But this time I know what to expect, Joe. And I suspect Lori knows how to handle herself." With a smile, Joe looked at the other woman. "Yea, she does." He handed his keys to Karen. "Lock the bar up when you leave. I have to ..." "I know, you have to take care of Anne. Go on, we'll be fine." As Joe left the bar, Mike came back in. Joe told him to call Jimmy, and let him know what happened. With a final glance back at the two women, Joe left. Mike started towards Karen and Lori. "We have to go--Joe asked you to call Jimmy, remember?" Lori looked at Mike. He stopped, and headed towards the bar. The two women looked at each other, looked at the Chronicle, grabbed their belongings and headed out. Mike picked up the phone and dialed. "Hey, it's Mike. Yea. Wait to you hear what happened..." ------------------------------------------------------ Karen Droms KDroms@luzerne.edu PSEB PRO, HeLLLion http://www.luzerne.edu Syndi-Con WebWeaver http://www.luzerne.edu/karen/highland/syndicon/syndicon.html =========================================================================== Date: Sat, 30 Mar 1996 14:07:37 -0400 From: Antonia Mandry Subject: WAR: Another 'bat Story Title: Another 'bat story Author: Antonia Mandry When: Morning Where: The Mop Closet in Joe's Bar Not that she minded being stuck in a mop closet. After all, at least she wasn't Lizbet ... in a perpetual kidnapping state. But there was something funny about this mop closet. It smelled ... like beer. Ugh. Not that she *hated* beer, it's just that she couldn't understand how *some* people could get drunk on it. She thought you really needed Pepsi or Coke or Peeps to do that. The furry little creature snorted in disgust at the thought. A certain other furry creature would have thought that adorable (the little nose crinkling up), but we won't get into that. Ma had left Kenny after she had discovered he had no more of the above mentioned items. As she had been despondently carousing the area trying to find more interesting items, she had had many interesting detours, including a trip to a fancy hotel. She had stumbled across what had seemed to be a meeting. She snuck in through a vent and found herself in a mop closet (ergh). Oh well. She pressed her furry little ear closer to the door and heard the following: really bad music, something about a river... but that wasn't important ... A conversation was taking place between the silver-haired guy (not bad looking) with the cane and a couple of women. ma could have sworn one of 'em was named after the race of fairies, but perhaps she was hearing wrong. Ma stuck a paw into her ear and drew out a piece of peeps. Ah, that was much better. Now she could hear. Ma shook her head as the image of an aardvark floated across the screen. Nah, she was imagining things. Back to the conversation: It was kinda boring, however, and Ma was starting to doze off until she heard... the silver-haired guy say, "This is it, a Methos Chronicle. Horton can't get his hands on this...". Ma almost squeaked. She must have stumbled onto that dude Joe's meeting. She almost squealed with joy. ------------------------------------------------------ Ma Wombat once more on the prowl. non-stop action .... wheeee!! (i think i'm getting tired ... my poor paws!) ma97ad14@acs.wooster.edu =========================================================================== Date: Sun, 31 Mar 1996 09:46:51 -0800 From: Joanne Curme Subject: WAR: Fall From Grace The afternoon knows what the morning only suspected. -- Cousin Woodman Title: Fall From Grace Author: Joanne Curme When: 9:30am Where: Four Seasons Hotel Back up in her room, Joanne looked at the output from the printer she'd stolen from the computer room next door. All that she'd managed to intercept were dozens of pages of debate over someone named Mary Sue, who seemed like a really nice girl except for her annoying habit of spitting on things before she fixed them, and a few dozen more pages about fruits, flowers and animals. Trying to put these last ones in order, Joanne had laid them all out on the carpet and was considering them thoughtfully when Rob knocked on the door. "All settled in?" she asked. "Yes, my toaster and I are very happy." It had been a fortunate coincidence that the spare card key Rob had gotten in the sauna was for the room next to hers. They had figured out the room number by adding the first two numbers, adding the last three, multiplying them together, dividing by the latitude and longitude of the hotel parking lot, moving the decimal up six places, and subtracting the correct 12-digit prime number. Piece of cake. Good thing the concierge had given her a handbook of computational statistics when she checked in. She would have hated to bother him by phoning. Rob looked past her to the papers covering the floor, squinting. "You know, if you look at these just right..." He climbed atop the nightstand and crossed his eyes, focusing on a point inches under the floor. "Almost...almost...Yes! There it is. It's a 3-D portrait of...it's some kind of an equine. Yuck, it looks dead. And there are fruits, and flowers, and little animals all around it...and a couple of...cows?" Joanne was too disappointed to look. All this work to steal the printer and not one single printout that could help them. Except for that recipe for Weasel-B-Gone, which could come in very handy some time. Well, time to clean up the operation and try something else. Rob did a double backflip off the nightstand, landing in front of the dresser with a flourish. "You must be feeling better. Maybe next time *I'll* jump into the hot tub." "Still upset about your cats?" asked Rob with concern. "Yes. They've only been missing a day but it seems like a week. I don't know where they are. At least they can take care of themselves, but still..." "Don't worry about them," Rob reassured her. "They're probably curled up sleeping on some computer somewhere, shedding cat hair into the keyboard and gnawing on the monitors. They'll be home before the end of the war." "How can you be so sure?" Joanne asked. "This is a *happy* war. Everything turns out all right in the end." "Oh yeah, I forgot. Thanks. Speaking of cat hair on the keyboard, let's return the printer now. They're all gone and we may not get another chance." Taking out the copy of the key she'd had made from the impression the night before, Joanne quietly unlocked the door that joined her room to the computer room. The room was still full of equipment, and empty of people. She carried the printer back to its place and hooked it up while Rob went over to the computer Panzer had marked earlier. He sat down and, after a few moments, had gotten into the Watcher database. "Yeah, I saw that too but couldn't find anything we didn't already know, or had guessed." "Did you see this?" Rob asked as he continued typing. "There's a locked part of the disk." "The whole thing is locked." "Yes, but this part of the disk was hidden. See, it's been partitioned and doesn't even appear unless you know exactly where to look." Joanne looked over his shoulder. "It's a big chunk of the disk..." He was typing as he talked. "And I think overhearing that conversation between Methos and Horton this morning gave us the password to get in...Ah! Yes." As he hit the final key, the screen cleared and a banner came up. Rob and Joanne barely had time to gasp in amazement when they heard a key at the door. Flipping the top of the laptop down, they ran back into her room and shut the adjoining door, hoping that whoever was coming in wouldn't notice that the computer was running. They heard movement in the next room for a few minutes, then someone leaving and closing the door again. Unable to wait to see if they were gone for good, Joanne and Rob rushed back into the computer room. Somebody had set up video monitors and was doing some pretty intensive rewiring. One of the I/O cables was attached to the laptop they'd been working on, but it didn't seem like they'd noticed it was running. Good. Flipping the monitor back up, Rob hit the space bar to clear the screen saver. The banner was still there, and the disk was processing something, but they couldn't see anything on the monitor. Joanne stepped back, and saw... The video monitor! The computer was sending output to the video monitor that was now hooked up to it. And what was she seeing? Unable to believe her eyes, her jaw dropped open. Rob stood beside her in shocked silence, tears forming in the corners of his eyes. "I don't believe it," she mumbled. "How could he do this?" It was Methos. Rob felt sick and turned away from the gruesome spectacle. Any respect he'd had for the man had just disappeared. "Where did this come from? Who could do something like this? And why?" Rob asked nobody in particular. "This must be what the War is really about," Joanne said quietly. "Not the Chronicles, not the money laundering, not even the Watchers. It's all about this. But why would he allow something like this to remain? This was his disk -- why didn't he destroy it?" Rob thought for a moment; he still couldn't bear to watch the screen. "He must have forgotten about it, or maybe thought it was so well hidden that nobody would ever find out." He stopped the video image with a few keystrokes and ran a few more commands on the laptop. "See, someone's copied the CD information onto the hard drive, but this whole partitioned section wasn't copied. It only exists on the CD." They looked at each other. "We need this," Joanne said. "It may be our only chance." Rob thought for a moment, then nodded, even though the thought of the images were still making his stomach turn. He ejected the CD and gave it to Joanne, and shut down the laptop. Just then they heard someone outside the door again, and once more went back to the other room. They wouldn't be coming back here again. ------------------------------------------------------ Joanne jcurme@pyramid.com K'immie Brigade Leader for the First HL War =========================================================================== Date: Thu, 21 Mar 1996 15:21:57 -0500 From: Brandy Snyder Subject: WAR: Title: Author: Jimmy Murphy When: 10:00am Where: Downtown Seacouver Donna and Marie had gotten up early to leave for a shopping trip in town. Anne and Jimmy were back at chez Lindsey, supervising the fleet of catering staffers, carpet shampooers, wrecker services, tent constructors, and assorted help that were needed to get Anne's house back to the way it had looked two days before. Donna wanted to get some 'thank you' cards to help Anne send out to the guests who gave gifts, as well as some sort of all-occasion cards that would apologize for the ruined clothing, the mild cases of food poisoning, and the various spectacles that had made Anne wonder if she would ever be able to face her friends and neighbors again. Mrs. Taylor, who usually came over as a babysitter on thursdays, screamed and hung up when Anne called her. Anne could hardly blame the woman; her neighbors had been witness to a strange evening. Jimmy called his friend Enmare concerning the car (or at least what was once a car), and she told him over the phone that all could be taken care of. Jimmy wondered just how she managed to pull aces out of her long sleeves, but more than anything he was glad to know that the rental company had possession of Mr. Taylor's incriminating videotape. In town, Marie and Donna were having the time of their lives. They went window-shopping, or more to the point, window *dissing*. They were pointing and laughing uproariously at the so-called fashions in store windows. "That shorts set...with the dots!" Marie said, trying to maintain her composure. Donna pointed, less willing to bottle up her laughter, "Ugh! It's terrible! And that peek-a-boo blouse!" "But look here," Marie said, trying to catch her breath, "the men's department is first-rate." They examined several mannequins outfitted with suits and other top-drawer merchandise. "No wonder the men in this town dress so much better than the women...and I thought it was just Anne!" From across the street and through a dusty window, someone was watching them, and not just because they were the best-dressed women on the street. He was careful to duck behind a frayed, discolored curtain hanging in the window whenever the two women turned to look in that direction, but the women were having much too much fun to notice anything else. "AAA! Look! Capri pants!!" Donna was heard yelling as she jumped from foot to foot. The figure continued watching, but made no effort to leave its post in the disused building. "But what is *that*?" Marie asked her new friend. They looked at a rack that was a part of a sidewalk sale outside a men's boutique. Marie pulled a sheer, black shirt from a hanger and looked at the label. "Why would anybody wear this?" she asked, noting that one could see right through it. "To show off the merchandise, I guess," Donna said, a mischievous grin appearing on her face. Not even the Seacouver Hallmark store had something suitable for what Anne needed in the way of a combination thank you/so sorry/get well soon card. The women had fun looking, though, and ended their shopping trip at a sundae shop. Donna ordered a double hot fudge sundae, satisfying her overwhelming need for something....*anything* chocolate. Marie was usually a lot more health conscious, but she rationalized that the amount of laughing the two had done would more than work off a bit of indulgence...okay, a *lot* of indulgence. While Donna and Marie were in the ice cream parlor, the person following them was writing in a notebook. Anne was beginning to think her house was never going to recover from the previous night's festivities. Mr. Kinard drove his truck over her mailbox; the giant wine stain in her favorite rug looked like blood...or was the giant stain *blood* that looked like wine? Uh-oh. Anyway, the only consolation Anne felt at that point was the knowledge that no one blamed her directly for all that had happened. Most of the guests understood why she lost her composure over Kenny. Most of them had marveled at how she had managed to keep her cool for so long, all things considered. She found an earring under the cushions of the sofa, an earring so unique that Anne knew immediately whose it was. "I guess I should call her...wonder if she is up yet?" Anne looked at her watch and realized that it was much later than she had imagined...nearly 11 AM. Still, she had to wonder. =========================================================================== Date: Sun, 31 Mar 1996 02:45:16 -0800 From: "Toni C. Holm" Subject: WAR: Gopher Guts - 1/3 Title: Gopher Guts (Parts 1, 2, and 3) Author: A collaboration of the MFW When: 10:00 - 11:00 am Where: MFW HQ - Four Seasons Hotel, Seacouver Toni left the elevator running and headed for the computer center. She'd just been going to eat in the Terrace restaurant in the hotel lobby when she'd seen.... Linda, Deb, Laura, Tammy, Carol Ann and Lisa were already there. "Did you see her??" Tammy said angrily. "Sitting there with that Greek gigolo wearing all that gold." "...and that tacky skin tight white dress embroidered with gold *anchors* no less. Honestly the dress is bad enough, but matching earrings? Nautical theme makes me cringe even on a good day ... not to mention the gold shoes..." Toni suddenly stopped as if just too appalled by this fashion faux pas to continue describing the outfit. "Why the Four Seasons of all places? Why couldn't she just decently disappear?" said Linda "I'd *love* for her to disappear. Preferably in some slimy, smelly way," Deb said viciously. "You know how *I* feel about this topic," said Lisa. "Unfortunately, so does Carol Ann...which means I won't be allowed to get near her. I have visions of fish guts and speeding cars." "Fish guts!" said Deb, "that has possibilities -- maybe if we just don't kill her.." "I think we should just trample the little harlot under burnished hooves," said Lisa stoutly, "and I know just the calvary to do it." Toni suddenly came out of her revery... "Fish guts... that's it --- just a sec...". She ran back to her room and returned carrying a rolodex of staggering proportions.. "Let's see," she murmured to herself, "assassinations, assignations, bedbugs, no, kidnapping..., laundries, missions... no that's not it... Riot Grrls (oops, wrong War) nope, too far... AH, there it is!" she shouted triumphantly, "rendering -- Darling International and Company, 333 Marine Drive." The others stopped their enjoyable contemplation of Alexa's possible fates & looked at her.. "Fish guts -- rendering! Don't you see? I have a ...um.. contact who owes me a favor at a rendering plant here locally. Let's see if Wendy's in..." She grabbed her phone and began dialing busily. "Rendering?" Deb said wondering... "Dead animal removal and disposal companies." said Lisa somewhat distracted, "There are even some that specialize in deceased equines." She didn't sound like she liked the idea at all. Then she laughed -- "I get it! Offal, she's after offal!" "What do we need with...." Linda said and then began to grin widely as she suddenly realized that, yes, they did have a need for offal. Twenty minutes later there was a knock on the door and a nervous young man in bellman's uniform stood at the door. "Uh... I have a package for Toni Holm." Linda took the package and overtipped him. At least the staff will remember us fondly she thought knowing Toni was "negotiating" as they spoke for a uniform from one of the day staff. Toni reentered, smiling -- "Got it!" she sang. "But I think it's gonna have to be Linda. The maid was about 5"6", so I think that lets Deb and Lisa out." Deb at 5'1", Tammy 5'2", and Lisa 5'10" groaned in disappointment. Carol Ann at 4'8" didn't even bother. "Hey.. I accidently dump stuff on obnoxious fans for the other team all the time at Mile High, and the cops just think I'm clumsy," Linda said a bit defensively, "I have *experience*." "That's all right," Laura said. "I just want to tape it. We'll need at least three cameras, from several angles, I can hook up to the computers and record the whole thing." She ran off to get the necessary gear. "And Tammy, Deb and I will get Methos in the lobby at the crucial moment," Carol Ann said, "after all, you never know how he'll react." The MFW leader grabbed Tammy's arm and headed toward Methos' room. "Toni, you get everyone in place, " she ordered over her shoulder. Toni groaned -- "At this rate, we'll be lucky if they're still there. This is getting more complicated than landing the troops at Normandy." Thursday 10-11 am MFW HQ - Four Seasons Hotel Seacouver A collaboration of the MFW Laura Ruggiero carefully unpacked the 4 video cameras from the box, with several MFW looking on. "See I told you there was more than just computers in the stuff my brother David sent me," she said. "These will plug directly into the computers, we will be able to copy and edit the "show" as much as we wish." An hour later all the cameras were set in place and hidden from view, all could be turned on with one special remote control. Laura staked out a spot to watch the chaos that would soon occur... ----------------------------------- Linda cackled with glee as she opened the package of offal. "Smells wonderful," she laughed, and she was reminded of some of the really putrid mixes of cooking fat and stale beer that she often turned up to dump on really obnoxious fans at the Broncos games at Mile- High stadium. "I know how to carry this off perfectly. I'm going to need a bucket, no, better yet, a small plastic pail...oh, how about that rubbish bin there," she pointed to a small trash can, just like the hundreds found all over the hotel in rooms, by the credenzas on each floor next across from the elevators, and by the phones in the lobby. "And a broom," she added. "Time to watch a real pro in action." She hurriedly dressed in the maid's outfit, careful to remove the name tag. She didn't want to cost someone their job. She pulled most of her hair back, but allowed enough of it to escape around the face so that she would look hot, tired, and harried. "Show time, ladies!", she shouted, as the rest of the contingent followed her to the elevators. "I'll give you ten minutes to set everything up, then it'll happen. Mind you, I won't be able to repeat this little number, so you better catch it the first time. SRO and all that stuff, as I do this death defying act..." They all laughed and headed down for the performance. Linda paused momentarily at the ash tray at the elevators downstairs for a wee bit of ash to smudge on her face. Out in the lobby Linda quietly deposited the rubbish bin with the unopened package of offal in it by the bank of phones. She unobtrusively swept up trash by the phones. After ten minutes, she returned to the end where she had left the rubbish bin with the offal and reclaimed the bin, dumping some gathered trash into it. She bent down and silently ripped open the package of offal, letting it mix with the dust and trash. "Oh, my," she said with a sickened voice, "the things some people leave in rubbish bins.." The man two phones down, suddenly noticing the smell and hearing the comment, concurred, as the man using the next phone, sympathizing with her as she passed them. The sympathy was repeated a few phones onward, elicited by further loud mutterings and complainings from Linda. Targets in sight, she thought as she neared the cooing lovebirds, seated on a sofa near the end of the phone bank. Just as she got to the end, the slightly sickened maid's ankle twisted, and she lurched forward, showering the couple with the grotesque mixture. "Oh, my....I'm so very sorry...", the maid whispered horrified, as the angry, drenched couple leaped up and whirled around to face her. The man started shouting and cursing at her, while the woman stood there, horrified. Linda was reminded of the scene from "Carrie" where Sissy Spacek stands there drenched with animal blood. Several of the men from the telephone bank rushed forward to defend her, after all, it was just a horrible accident. The front desk manager entered the fray, firing the "clumsy, idiotic maid" and offering sincere apologies, and complete restitution. The men from the phones rushed to the maid's defense, whilst Stavros continued his litany of abusive language, shaking his fist at an obviously frightened maid. When he threatened to "wring her scrawny neck" the poor, trembling maid burst into tears and rushed away, heading for the stairs. Once there, Linda ran up a floor, caught the elevator up to her floor and quickly changed back to her normal clothes, washed her face, brushed out her long hair and misted some cologne over her boby so that she could return to the scene of the crime to catch the ending. Back down in the lobby.... Carol Ann and Tammy and Deb hurried off to get the old man. She knocked loudly on his door. A muffled groan was heard. "C'mon, Methos, get up. We have to go downstairs..." Carol Ann wondered excuse she was going to use for this. No matter, they had to get him to the lobby. She knocked again, "We're not going away. Answer the door." Inside Methos groaned & wrapped the sheet around himself , he said to himself. He stumbled to the door to see three of his faithful followers peering in. , he thought smiling . Once the door was open a crack all three PGS tumbled into the room. "Get dressed" Carol Ann said, "we .. uh.. have to meet someone in the lobby". Surprisingly Methos didn't question why. He moved toward the pile of clothes in the chair clutching the sheet around him as three sets of bright eyes watched with interest. "Do you mind?", he said with a look. A little slowly, but obediently, the MFW all turned their backs. "I guess that's the best I'm going to get" he muttered under his breath... "women..." ------------------------------- Once downstairs, the PGS gathered round Adamethos herding him toward the open air restaurant occupying one side of the huge lobby. "If I'd known you wanted breakfast... ", he quipped. There was no answer as the women spotted their target -- Alexa in all her gold & white glory nestled with Stavros on a loveseat near the huge windows next to a long bank of phones. Adamethos hadn't seen her yet... "Ah well, at least I can get a beer," he said hoping to get a rise out of them. "Oh christ!," he stopped suddenly spotting them. Just as he spoke the blonde maid nearest the couple seemed to stumble. Alexa and Stavros both stood, covered in the reddest, foulest bucket of animal slime ever worthy of making the scene in an Aliens movie. Adamethos started forward and then checked himself. Alexa spotted him and began setting up a wailing screech, Stavros began cursing and berating the maid who was now crying piteously. Several men nearby began to get involved and the hotel manager joined the confusion. Adamethos looked down from his 6'2" height at the women surrounding him and cursed silently. Then a smile crossed his face and he seized Carol Ann from the group and kissed her passionately. As the official shortest member of a mostly short group of PGS her feet left the ground completely. The he put her down and picked up Tammy who's last conscious thought as she dropped the book she always seemed to be carrying was "Why do I always fall for tall thin guys". As he set her down, her knees buckled and the others caught her and he seized on Deb. Yet another short woman got the full treatment. was Deb's mostly coherent thought as her feet hit the ground again. Looking around her Adamethos spotted Jeff crossing the lobby. A devilish idea crossed his mind (as a equine whinny was heard in the background), but the tall young man extended a hand and he took it. ("get me out of here", he mouthed), Jeff looked confused, but tried to comply. "Uh.. Adam.. you have a message... uh, at the front desk...". Adam gave him a grateful nod as he crossed the lobby leaving a scene of devastation behind. ----------------------------------- Laura quickly, and without being noticed amidst the confusion, collected the video cameras and headed up to the computer room. Once there she plugged the video cameras directly into the AV capable computers and viewed, on four screens, from four different angles, the scene that had just occurred 20 floors below. "I wonder if there will be a market for this? It may not be as, ah... enticing, as the videos the Lurkers have made, but surely more factions than the MFWs would be interested in a copy of this." ------------------------------------- Toni looked down from the balcony above the restaurant in satisfaction. Linda certainly had been effective. Alexa and Stavros would be getting their stay on the house if she wasn't mistaken. And Methos' reaction had certainly been better than advertised. , she thought with a chuckle. ------------------------------------- With all the commotion, no-one seems to notice the tiny tailless furred one hiccuping in the corner of the lobby. The endless Coca-Cola supply had proved too much for one more shape shifter. "Great green gobs of greasy, grimy gopher guts, great green gobs of greasy, grimy gopher guts...", the wombat otherwise known as Kathleen sang tunelessly...