HLFIC-L Gathering Thursday (Part 2 of 3) =========================================================================== Date: Mon, 1 Apr 1996 20:00:41 +0000 From: frj Subject: War: Katana Spaces Without Katanas Title: Katana Spaces Without Katanas Author: Cindy Shettle and Lisa Krakowka When: after Gopher Guts, mostly while Adam is in the hot tub Where: Four Seasons Hotel Cindy had been one of the last of the PGS to get to the lobby. Once Adam started kissing those closest to him, she was glad that she had remained at the edge of the group. But it also meant that she was in the last group to catch an elevator back up to the 20th floor. Well, actually there were two people more than would fit into this elevator, so she had to wait a little while longer. Cindy turned to her companion. It was Lisa, from the calvary. What luck. She had been wanting to talk to her alone. "Um, Lisa? Yesterday, before the Christening, I saw you put your boots in your saddlebags, even though your boots are taller than your saddlebags." Lisa ducked her head noncommitally. She had hoped no one had seen that little trick. Then, she decided that if anyone had the right to know about it, Cindy did. "The saddle bag has a katana space," she said. "You know what they are, right?" "Well, yes, I've heard about katana space, but I don't understand how it works. Also I'd kind of like to make my own, but wouldn't know where to begin. Do you think you could teach me?" The next elevator arrived and both got in, pressing the button for the 20th floor. "Well, I can show you what mine looks like and maybe offer some advice for constructing your own. I don't know if they are as flexible as the one's the immortals have, but mine holds quite a bit." Cindy smiled. "Thank you. I'd appreciate that." Lisa returned the smile. "Let's get my saddlebags and I'll show you." The elevator reached the 20th floor. Cindy and Lisa got out, passing by Adam who was on his way to the 10th floor to relax in the hot tub. In Lisa's room, Cindy eagerly examined the saddle bags while Lisa explained their nature. It was the first time Cindy had actually seen katana space for herself. "Do you have an idea on where you want to put yours? I think it needs to be in something relatively large..." Lisa said. Cindy turned her head towards Lisa, her eyes lighting up. "Oh, yes. I have just the place, it's perfect." Well, it was in her sky elven, Adam Pierson flagwaving mind. Other people might not understand her logic. Bringing Lisa to her room, Cindy rummaged through her box of stuff, thankful that Jim had sent her everything she needed. Cindy was careful to keep the laptop she had returned to the box last night hidden from Lisa's view as she went. Cindy pulled out her sewing kit and the bag of cloth scraps that had been left over from making her SCA garb. Finally Cindy found the T-shirt she had bought from the Highlander Store and held it up proudly for Lisa to see. It was white with a large blue Watcher symbol on the front and the word "Highlander" on the left sleeve. "It's perfect, don't you think?" Lisa chuckled. "Perfect. No one will think you have one if you're not wearing a trench coat." Cindy sighed. Lisa obviously didn't get why it had to be this particular T-shirt. Oh well, she must be just a Methos flagwaver, and not an Adam Pierson flagwaver. Cindy was both, or would be if she had any flags. Cindy removed her splint and placed it on the night stand in preparation for sewing. "I'm allowed to take it off sometimes," she explained. As she threaded a needle with white thread, Cindy commented, "It's too bad that we don't have access to Adam's coat. I like what you've done with your saddle bags, but they're leather and this is cloth." "Say no more. I'm a bit of an amature lock pick..." Cindy looked up with interest. "You are? Really?" Then she looked disappointed. "No, we probably shouldn't. Adam is our friend. He wouldn't like it." But she did really want to get hold of Adam's coat. It could certainly give her more information about what Adam kept in his katana space than Lisa's or her own could. Cindy got a mischievious glint in her eyes. "Of course, Adam isn't there right now and if we put it back where we found it before he returns, he'll never know that we had it. Let's do it!" Lisa motioned for Cindy to toss her the saddle bag and pulled a small leather box out of the katana space. Inside were several picks, some wires, and a set of small screw drivers. She flashed an evil grin and they headed down the hall to Adam's room. "Cover me," Lisa said, dropping to her knees in front of the door. Cindy looked around the hallway nervously and tried to conceal Lisa by standing with her back to the door. "Hurry up," she said. Lisa grinned up at her and pulled her room card from the pocket in her breeches, sliding it into the lock. She used one of the screw drivers to take the lid off the locking mechanism and fiddled with some wires for a moment. Cindy heaved a sigh of relief as the door clicked open. Cindy headed straight for the closet with Lisa close behind. Opening the door, she saw some of Adam's clothes, but no coat. The two women looked at each other. Both had seen Adam enter the elevator and he wasn't wearing it. Suddenly Cindy had an idea and hurried to the bathroom. Adam's coat was on a hanger, dangling from the shower rod. "Well, at least he's neat," Lisa mused. "Of course that thing probably reeked of horse and beer and lord only knows what other kind of liquor. He's been wearing it since Athens." Cindy reached for the coat and took it down. It seemed likely that Adam had washed it last night. While that could mean that she was right, Lisa did have a point that it would still be dirty and smelly even if he hadn't been pouring drinks in his pocket. In any case, there definitely wouldn't be any proof if he had. Cindy wondered if Adam had suspected that she was going to try to examine it. Cindy sighed. She was dealing with someone who had five thousand years of practice at staying one step ahead of everyone after him. Back in Cindy's room, they examined Adam's katana space, which was completely empty. That wasn't surprising if he had just washed the coat. Further examination discovered a second katana space near the top of the coat, also empty. But it was in a much better location to use slight of hand to pour drinks into if you wanted to convince people you were drinking them. Cindy considered asking Lisa about the ability of katana space to hold liquid, but decided against it. Adam did ask her not to tell anyone that he was faking it and she didn't want to go against his wishes if she didn't have to. Cindy sat down with her sewing, comparing the pocket she was adding to her T-shirt with the katana spaces in Adam's coat as she went. ***** Adam returned to his room, still shaking his head over the Holy spring that had appeared in the hot tub when Kenny was thrown in. Going to the bathroom to hang up his towel, he noticed that his coat was missing. The hanger was still on the shower bar, but the coat was gone. A quick search of his room indicated that everything else was in place, even his sword. Now why would anyone break into a hotel room just to steal a coat? Oh, of course, why else? ***** Cindy was sitting on her bed working on her katana space while Lisa sat nearby, giving advice. There was a knock on the door. "Who's there?" they called in unison. (Well, everyone else is doing it.) :) "Who else?" a familiar, male voice asked. Someone who wanted his coat back. Cindy meekly said, "I'm sorry," as she answered the door. "We... I... Um..." "Did you find what you were looking for?" Adam smiled at her, knowing perfectly well that she hadn't. Cindy remembered to move out of the way to allow Adam to enter. "We were just trying to use it as a model. I wanted to build my own katana space." On the bed, Lisa threw the flap of the saddle bag over her lock picking kit and smiled innocently. No sense in him knowing she was involved. He was most likely already convinced she was a bit mad...with horses galloping out of nowhere and all. Adam glanced over at Cindy's sewing project lying on the bed, but the T-shirt was inside out, so he couldn't see the design. He looked back at her and sighed. "I don't see why you need katana space. You're a mortal." "I'm not going to put a sword in it. I just want to have one," Cindy said defensively. Adam just shook his head and asked for his coat back. --------------------------------------------- Cindy The Fantasy Realms Journal & RPG Staff Joseph Teller * Cindy Shettle * Kiralee McCauley frj@tiac.net or http://www.tiac.net/users/frj/ BBS : (617) 899-9483 (FIDONet 1:101/245) =========================================================================== Date: Mon, 1 Apr 1996 22:43:50 -0500 From: Dana Gunn Subject: WAR: The plot thickens... Title: The Plot Thickens... Author: Dana Gunn When: Thursday, 11 am Where: MFW HQ - Four Seasons Hotel, Seacouver As the hotel manager finished apologizing to Stavros and Alexa he pulled a note from his pocket and handed it to Stavros. "Sir this message came for you early this morning. I didn't want to disturb you until you had had your breakfast." The manager was speaking in one of those whiny voices that comes over you when you're in trouble with your parents. Stavros snapped the paper from his hand and opened it. It read: _______________________________________________ | | | Stavros, | | Be on the watch for a careless maid. | | Try not to wear your best suit this morning.| | There are a few women at the hotel that are | | not very fond of your new friend. | | | | Shotgunn | ----------------------------------------------- Stavros wheeled around at the sound of boots on the floor behind him. He came face to face with Shotgunn. "Well, Dana. I thought you were supposed to take better care of me than that!" "Hey! Don't blame me. I sent you the message. I've been taking care of your other little project." Dana turned his back to Stavros and wiped out a chair with a cloth. He propped his feet on the chair adjacent to his and glared at Stavros. "Keeping and eye on Adam Pierson does not take precendence over my well being!" "Stop shouting" Dana said quietly. "People are beginning to stare, again." Alexa then turned to Stavros and said, "You mean to tell me that all this time you have had a spy on Adam?!" Her voice seemed to be going up an octave. "Darling, it was all for the best. You have to trust me." Alexa slapped Stavros, spun on her heel and walked away from him. "Great," Dana thought. "If the PSGs don't know about me now I'm sure they soon will. Look, Stavros. I've got to get back to the rest of my little group before they miss me now that you're in no mortal danger." "Fine. Let me know where Alexa goes and who she talks to as well. I'm sure that she'll come back around. Then anything you can give me about Pierson will come in quite handy." "No problem" Dana said over his shoulder as he made his way back to the group of women whom Adam was kissing in turn. -- Aut Pax Aut Bellum Dana Gunn of the Clan Gunn *8) =========================================================================== Date: Sun, 31 Mar 1996 02:18:25 -0500 From: Carol Ann Liddiard Subject: WAR: Waiting at Joe's Title: Waiting at Joe's Author: Leighann When: 11:45 a.m. Where: Joe's Bar Leighann came in the door to Joe's and looked around *Not a bad place!* she thought. "Can I help you, miss?" said a voice. Leighann turned and saw a man with short silver hair, beard, and a cane. "Hello, are you Joe Dawson?" "Yes. Why do you want to know?" "I'm Leighann. I'm with the Methos Flagwaves. Carol Ann told me to wait here." "All right. Suit yourself." said Joe. Leighann sat down at a table and proceded to wait for the Methos faction. ****************************** Leighann * klcombs@hamlet.uncg.edu * ****************************** =========================================================================== Date: Tue, 2 Apr 1996 11:35:00 -0500 From: Virginia Foster Subject: WAR: Connor Arrives in Seacouver Title: Connor Arrives in Seacouver Author: Virginia Foster When: Thursday (about noon) Where: Seacouver Airport and the Lambert Inn Virginia stared at her sleeping travel companion in digust. "How can he sleep the entire flight? I can't even doze on a plane. But then, I guess after 470 plus years, one learns to sleep anywhere." This day had started way to early and she desperately wanted to sleep. At least the movie had been decent and she had fun teasing Connor about it. The movie was one of those martial arts things based on a video game, and one of the characters looked a bit like Connor. "Ladies and gentlemen. We are on approach to the Seacouver International Airport. Please return to your seats and fasten your seat belts. We will be landing in a few minutes." "I wish the attendant had not taken that cup of ice" Virginia thought as she shook Connor to wake him up. "Ice would have been more fun." "What is it?" Connor was awake almost instantly. She pointed out the window. "We are almost there." Grinning, she added, "I thought you might like to be alert and presentable when you meet the others." Connor simply gave her a withering stare and as the plane descended, he was still staring and wondering about this war and flag waver business. Darci was waiting for them at the terminal gate. She spotted the two almost immediately. "Virginia! How are you? Great to see you finally!" Virginia tried not to yawn as she greeted her friend. "Darci, I'm so glad you could make it. Did you have any trouble getting up here?" Darci shook her head. "No, it was a fairly easy drive up. Just had to watch the speed. Last thing I need is a ticket for speeding." She turned and greeted the Immortal with a hug. "Connor, it's good to see you again. It's been a while" (author's note: I'm leaving it up to Darci to tell us how she knows Connor. They've met, but I don't know the details, Connor forgot to mention that to me. ) As Darci led the way to her car, she, Virginia and Connor talked about the problems in Seacouver and the number of flag wavers that had gathered. Connor looked at Virginia "So where did you say the hotel reservations where?" Around yet another yawn, Virginia told him "The Lambert Inn. Laura Michaels knew about it and says it is a rather nice place." It didn't take long for Darci to drive them back to the hotel. "We are on the 10th floor." She called as Connor went to check himself and Virginia into their rooms. As they were getting the bags sorted out into the rooms, Virginia announced to no one in particular that she was going to fall into bed and sleep for a while. Just as she got to the door, he called out "No, wait." and pulled the katana from his coat. "Oh no!" Virginia groaned, "we just got here! How did anyone know we were coming, except for us." Connor motioned them to move to the far side of the room and stood with his katana ready. He was surprised by a knock on the door. "Come in" he called, cautiously. The door opened there stood a familiar person surrounded by a large group of women. "Richie Ryan?" Connor recognized the young man that he'd met on his last trip to Seacouver. But then the boy had not been an Immortal. But both Connor and Duncan had sensed that he would someday become Immortal. Then he remembered, when Tessa was killed, Richie had also been shot. Richie entered the room "Connor MacLeod! It's great to see you again!" =========================================================================== Date: Wed, 27 Mar 1996 20:07:17 -0500 From: anonymous Subject: WAR: Richie Meets Sir Lancelot Title: Richie Meets Sir Lancelot Author: Laura Michaels When: 11:45 AM Where: Richie's place Laura Michaels entered Richie's apartment after a nice nap at the Lambert Inn. "Laura, where have you been?" Richie asked in a concerned tone. "I just went to the airport to pick someone up. I didn't think you'd even miss me with so many other flag wavers around." "We thought maybe you'd been kidnapped too. It does seem to be going around," Richie explained. "You picked up another supporter at the airport?" That's all Richie needed, one more person in his already overcrowded apartment. "Where is she?" "It's a friend of Connor's. I dropped her off at the Lambert Inn and took a short nap before I got back here. It's not exactly easy to get a decent night's sleep here." *Tell me about it*, thought Richie. "I thought Connor was still in Atlanta?" "No, he's supposed to be here some time this afternoon." "Sir Lancelot, here?" Richie said, more to himself than anyone else. "What?" asked Laura confused. "Nothing," Richie replied. "I think I should have a talk with Connor." "Let's get some lunch," Marina suggested. "Maybe Connor will have arrived by then." ---------------------------------------------- Richie and his group got to the Lambert Inn at around 1:30 PM. Laura led them up to the rooms. Several introductions followed. Virginia, like many others present, looked like she wanted desperately to sleep, but with the noise and excitement levels in the room, it was impossible. Members of both factions were left to catch up on some girl talk (with apologies to David) while Connor took Richie to his suite for some privacy and a chance to get updated on what was going on. "...I haven't exactly seen much action in this war. With all those flag wavers and David around to protect me... They won't let me get into anything very interesting." "Sounds like the smartest way to handle this to me," Connor told him. "Might as well play it safe." Richie looked around the suite. "Nice place you got here. Is it all yours?" Connor nodded. "How'd you arrange that? I've got the whole brigade sleeping over at my place. I can't even get to the bathroom when I need to." "One of the benefits of being older..." "And wiser?" Connor shrugged. "And having money." "I'll look forward to that. Mac's very generous, but he's not that generous with my salary. I still think he paid Charlie more than he pays me. But I did have an offer to moonlight in Hollywood part time." "How is my clansman, Duncan?" Connor asked. "I was going to drop by his place later and pay him a visit." "Having all the fun," Richie replied. "As usual." "Better give him plenty of warning, especially with all the rogue Immortals running around," Richie said. "You wouldn't believe how many times Kenny's showed up this week." "Is Duncan all right?" "I guess. Haven't seen much of him. It's almost impossible to get near him with all his flag wavers around. He has some very dangerous people in his faction. I was at his place Tuesday borrowing the shower. Guess I should have used the shower downstairs in the dojo dressing rooms, but he still hasn't fixed the hot water. You should have seen how upset his friends were. They practically threw me out." "Don't worry. I think I can handle a bunch of mortals." Connor winked mischievously. Connor and Richie finished discussing events of the war and their plans. They even managed to sneak in a brief conversation to catch up on old times. Then they headed back to the room where all their followers waited eagerly for them. "We have unfinished business to take care of," Richie announced to his group. Laura Michaels p004927b@pbfreenet.seflin.lib.fl.us http://members.aol.com/lauram3017/index.html =========================================================================== Date: Sat, 30 Mar 1996 21:07:29 -0500 From: Karen Droms Subject: WAR: With a Little Time to Kill... Title: With a Little Time to Kill Author: Karen Droms When: Early afternoon Where: Joe's house "There." Karen pressed the send button to fax the final page she had scanned into the multimedia computer setup. "Joe Z. said it shouldn't take him long to translate once he got the stuff. He'll email us back with a summary fairly soon." She picked up the Chronicle and put it in the pocket of her shirt. "So, what do we do, wait?" Lori was impatient. She knew things were coming to a head and she wanted to be in the middle of the action. "Well, I know *something* we can do..." With that Karen led Lori into Joe's bedroom. "I wanted to do this the whole time I was with Joe, but never got the chance to be in here alone...well, without Joe, anyway" Karen threw open the door to Joe's closet and started pulling out an ugly yellow sweater. "Where did he get these things anyway?" Lori quickly caught on to what was happening. She grabbed a saggy gray sweater with a neck opening so wide it was almost falling off the hanger. "Some place called "wardrobe" I think. They obviously have no taste." The women continued to pull all the saggy, baggy, ticky-tacky sweaters they could find out of the closet. When done, they shoved them into that part of the space-time continuum known as "dryer-space" where all good socks go to die; however, for the yellow sweater there was a special fate. Taking a deep breath, they threw it into katana space so it would land in DM's wardrobe and he could deal with that sickly shade. Then they quickly replaced the sweaters with black T-shirts, button down shirts and denim before quietly shutting the closet door... "That was fun! What's next!?" Lori looked at Karen expectantly. "Hmmm...I know! You'll get a kick out of this. Let's hope he keeps them in the same place..." Returning to Joe's study, Karen opened a file drawer and pulled out a small, well-worn book. "What's this?" Lori looked at the book Karen held in her hands. It looked vaguely familiar. "Some of Joe's Watcher memorabilia. Remember, I set up this system so he could catalog this stuff. This is something MacLeod gave him... MacLeod's "little black book" circa 1860. Here, take a look." Karen handed the book over to Lori who paged through it. Lori blanched. "Well, *that's* something I didn't need to know." Karen walked over to look over Lori's shoulder. "What's that?" Lori pointed to an entry. "That's a relative of mine. She got a three katana rating. I should have known MacLeod *rates* his women." She flipped further through the book. "Here's a five katana. Oh, and here in the back there's some comments on the rating system...." Lori made a face and closed the book in disgust. "Ugh. I certainly hope the man's matured since then." "Actually, Joe has a whole collection of these books... MacLeod usually runs through a black book every couple of years." Karen said. She looked in another drawer and pulled out a newer book. "Looks like he's still at it. This one's dated 3/94-3/96. MacLeod much have just given it to Joe" "Pig." Lori muttered. "But why would a man with perfect flashback memory even need a black book?" She paged through the new book. "To show off?" Karen suggested. "Wait," Lori said, "here's an entry for you might get a kick out of..." "What does it say?" Karen asked. "Well, let's see," Lori mused. "OK, she gets a 1/2 katana rating, but the comments read 'Rather bland, boring with a hang-up about some chick named Mary Poppins. Seems to be unnaturally attached to a parasol and her walk gives a clue as to where she keeps it." Karen looked over Lori's shoulder. "OK in a group, but lacks initiative in a one-on-one session..." The two women looked at each other, and burst out laughing, only to be silenced by the beep of the computer and the ringing of the phone. "You get the phone, I'll get the email." Karen sat down at the computer while Lori reached for the phone. As she read the note from Joe Z., she listened in on Lori's end of the conversation. "Hello. Yea, Joe, it's Lori. How's.... Oh, that's a relief! An allergy. Any idea what... No? I don't know, the email came in just as you called... Let me go ask Karen..." Lori put held the phone to her chest. "Was he able to translate it? What does it say?" Karen didn't say anything, she just stared at the screen... Lori put the phone down, and went to the computer to read the note. She read it through twice before picking the phone back up. Joe...you won't believe this... I can't tell you over the phone. You have to get back here *now*!" Karen turned to Lori and held up the Chronicle. "We have to do something with 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: Mon, 1 Apr 1996 01:45:43 -0500 From: Rob Distante Subject: WAR: Kung Fool "How can your father leave the swords to me? I'm an American!" "It's the history of Zen. To give the greatest of gifts to the lowliest of creatures." --- The Challenge Title: Kung Fool Author: Rob Distante, K'immie Brigadier When: early afternoon Where: Seacouver Finally having the opportunity to change into some clean, dry clothes from the trunk of the rental car, Rob left the Four Seasons Hotel on a quest of his own devising. It was to some sort of Temple, somewhere in the middle of Seacouver. Rob moved stealthily inside the temple gardens towards a meditating priest, who was sitting in zazen posture in the half-light of a tree... It was quiet and still in the peaceful setting, and Rob approached silently. "Aaah, mole cricket, so you come to visit an old man, after all these years," said the old man, eyes still closed. "Good morning, Grandfather Wu," Rob said, smiling and bowing low. "So what brings the errant caterpillar back to the tree of all knowledge?" "I was visiting in the area, and came to pay my respects to an honored teacher." "And perhaps the dung beetle came here with something else on his mind? A question, or a request for aid, my annoying earwig?" The smile never faltered on the old man's face. "As always, you cut to the heart of the matter, master." Rob opened the satchel slung at his side and handed the ancient one... a toaster. "Perhaps you want me to open a bank account, legless centipede? I appreciate the gift, itsy bitsy spider, but what could I possibly... " Examining the appliance, the old man suddenly leapt to his feet. "Where the hell did you find this? Get in the temple now!" he commanded, running into the darkness of the monastery. Rob laughed to himself, jogging after Wu. He was both amused and concerned that he got the old man upset enough to drop his act for a moment. But maybe he'd stop calling him bug names for once. "I heard that, mealyworm!!! Now get inside, and close the door!" * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Rob sat in the near darkness as he shook the critter out of the toaster, and into the palm of his hand. It cooed and looked up at him lovingly. Rob pulled a lavender peep out of his pocket and fed it to the varmint. Grandfather Wu looked on with understanding. "So you know all about the wombats from the War, housefly?" asked Grandfather Wu. "Yes. Apparently they're supernatural creatures - changelings - with a sense of humor almost as bad as mine, and a mutual interest in immortals." "That's why this one was attracted to a flea such as yourself," confirmed Wu. "This is a wombat, but a different species, tick, than the ones you've encountered. The others are a version of human, much like you, sap-sucking aphid - but this one is a creature, and capable of great mischief." "He seems harmless enough." "So he is, moon moth, for now. Listen to me! You must follow these rules carefully, or chaos will surely ensue." Rob looked up expectantly. "As you wish, enlightened one." Grandfather handed him a pamphlet, entitled "Care and Feeding of your Short Haired Brazillian Wombat". <1. Keep out of direct sunlight,> he read. Wow, this looked interesting. "Thank you, esteemed Grandfather. May your progeny live to . . ." "Yeah yeah yeah", Wu interrupted. "Your half hour is up. Be sure to pay the receptionist on your way out. $200 American." Rob slipped the varmint into his pocket, and turned to walk out - when he remembered his toaster. Grandfather Wu had picked it up and was looking at it greedily. Startlingly fast, Rob grabbed the appliance, stepped back, and smiled. They looked at each other. Grandfather Wu sighed in resignation. Unhappily, and by rote, Wu recited "When you have snatched the toaster from my hand, you are free to leave." He shook his head sadly. "This one's on me." Rob smiled immensely as he walked very quickly out of the temple. he thought to himself as he got to the sidewalk. "Wait! Come back!!" he heard Grandfather Wu scream shrilly. "Now I get to make you do the really painful part with the burned-on tattoos!!! Damn it, get back here!!!!" Rob jumped into his rental car and drove off, grinning from ear to ear. Rob Distante (Sensei Rob@aol.com) =========================================================================== Title: Stop all the Clocks, Keep the dog from barking ... Author: MW, and ADM When: As Life Chooses Where: My Father's Cemetary , Des Plaines, Illinois Ma Wombat scurried from task to task, giggling merrily as she plotted her next moves having to do with eavesdropping and the like. She checked her email periodically and scrolled up a message: ----------- From: Grandma Wombat To: MWombat@plothole.whirlpool.edu Subj.: A Bit of Sadness My dear, I have some bad news. Kip has passed from this life, my child. A brief respite from this mortal coil. He goes on to a brighter light. Grandma ----------- Ma's eyes shimmerd, no her whole body shimmered. A porthole opened and out stepped Toni Mandry. She came closer to the distressed wombat and put her arm around her shoulders. "Let's go visit Dad and tell him to look up Kip." Deds Plaines It was a beautiful day, unusual for March. The grass was a brilliant green and the tree curled over the burial plot. Two women stood there. One tended to the flowers surrounding the tombstone of her grandparents and her father. She chatted with her father briefly, "Hi, Papi. I just wanted to tell you that you're going to have company up there. A guy named Kip Guin will be there. He's new, so will you watch out for him? He's really nice. I didn't know him very well, but I did exchange a few emails with him. Yeah, yeah, I know, it's over a computer, but still, huh? Lend him a hand. He might be a bit lost. I guess it must be pretty confusing up there in the beginning. I love you, dad. Here's some flowers for you and Oma and Opa. You might tell them to keep an eye out for Kip, too, huh?" The other woman slowly reached out a hand and stroked the tombstone. Kip's death had reminded her of all the loved ones she had lost. Death surrounded her and she couldn't change it. She sighed. Hmmm, Laphroaig, Kip? I don't even know if you would've liked it, she thought miserably. But then she cheered up, Well, even if you didn't, you can always learn. She drew out the bottle and sat down next to the other by the grave. She drank to all the fathers, grandparents, and Kips of the next world. --sorry if this is hokey, but Kip's death really did remind me of my father's, so I got all sentimental-- Toni M. = CFW for Kinman,Cord & Methos' Sword/FW for Kalas/Vaquera with pretensions to Cousinhood/Skinner fan/Ma 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 19:17:27 -0500 From: "Jimmy Murphy @ GA Southern University" Subject: WAR: Secrets Cry Aloud Title: "Secrets Cry Aloud" from a story idea by Donna Griffon Author: Jimmy Murphy When: Daytime Where: Community General Hospital It was a place that Anne knew very well; she had spent the better part of six years in that very hospital. Being on the other end of the gurney, however, was a very new experience to her. The faces of Drs. Wallace and Coleman peered down at her as she tried to coordinate in her mind just what had gotten her to the Emergency room at Community General. There was the bar, the music...Horton! That whole story with the man from the Christening. She did not like the idea of having colleagues poking and prodding her in the ER, but all Anne knew was that she felt as though she had been hit by a truck, and the Horton story did not help matters. "Too bad Quint Wallace doesn't believe in pain killers," she thought to herself as he looked at the staff and Donna over her. Dr. Wallace did not appreciate *at all* the presence of Dr. Donna Griffon, who was issuing orders to the EMT's and acting as though she was the only doctor in the room capable of helping Dr. Lindsey. Donna had arrived with Marie at almost exactly the same time Anne and Joe had arrived; there was no way Donna was going to stand idly by while her friend needed her. Joe had met Donna as she entered the ER, telling her that it seemed like some sort of poisoning; Anne had just clutched her head and fell into Joe's lap. "Lucky woman," Donna thought quickly. "Where is Mary? Was Mary with her?" Marie asked, noticing quickly that no one had the baby with them. Joe said that Jimmy had Mary at the house, and that he should probably be on his way. "I had Mike call him, and I hope Jimmy got the message." Jimmy felt he had indeed gotten a message, but not the one Joe had in mind. When Mike called, he had reiterated the brief theory that Anne may have been poisoned. Jimmy had almost dropped the phone. "Damn! Why her?" Jimmy had exclaimed loudly. "He was after *me*! Why'd he have to go through her to get me to cooperate?" Mike only said where she had been taken and that I should get over there. Jimmy was able to figure out fairly quickly that Horton must have wanted to scare him into agreeing into helping him get rid of Duncan MacLeod...and used Anne to do it. The steam rose from Jimmy's ears as quickly as the fears in his heart about what he would find when he and Mary got to town. Anne was in no shape to protest when Dr. Wallace started examinations, but Donna surely was. "Have you done the blood work yet? Do you know what her BP and gases are? Is she on this drug or that?" The questions were flying so quickly that Dr. Wallace had to stop his exam to ask her to leave the cubicle. "Hell no, I'm not leaving! If you can't find out what's wrong with her then I surely will." "You may be a doctor, but you are not on staff here." "So what? She needs help and I'm going to give it to her." Donna was cool, but the beginnings of tears were in the corner of her eyes. "You aren't even licensed to practice in this state, Dr. Griffon," Dr. Wallace replied acidly. "Tell ya what? You tell me what state we *are* in, and *then* I'll tell you where I'm licensed." Dr. Wallace paused a moment to ponder the question, but realized that he had to get back to his exam. Marie and Joe were listening to the argument (as if everyone could not hear anyway) and Marie touched Donna's shoulder. "Let them work, Donna...I'm sure they are doing their best." Donna turned and stepped aside, to the happiness of Dr. Wallace. "It's not poisoning, we at least know that..." he said, reading some figures handed to him by Dr. Coleman. Everyone seemed relieved, but Anne let out a distinct "Owww!" when Dr. Wallace touched her side. "We should move into the lobby," Marie said, taking Donna and company to the waiting area near the emergency entrance. Marie knew how good Dr. Wallce was; she had hired him. While Anne was being attended to by the staff, Joe, Marie and Donna compared notes on what had happened. Donna kept glancing into the windows of the ER, but Marie could not bear to look in that direction. Jimmy burst in, carrying a wrapped-up Mary, and practically walked past the assembly. Everyone sprang from their seats and Jimmy asked a nearby nurse if Dr. Lindsey was still in the emergency room. Marie waved Jimmy down and told him that she was okay, that she only lost consciousness for a few minutes. "Poison! I was told she had been poisoned...is she being treated?" Everyone had to calm him down and fill him in on the incorrect diagnosis. Marie said that Mary would need to be fed soon and wondered if there was a way of Anne expressing some milk; she went upstairs to find her friend, Linda, at the La Leche offices. Donna, meanwhile, returned to pestering Dr. Wallace with diagnostic questions and making sure that no one forgot this was Donna's friend they were caring for. "The first thing that went through my mind was that Horton got to her," Jimmy said to Joe, who confessed that it was something Horton would not be against doing. "When Mike told me she had possibly been poisoned, I lost it." Joe smiled vaguely, knowing full well that Jimmy had not quite "found it" again. "He wanted my help, and I would not give it to him. I thought it was his payback." Joe's eyes widened tellingly. Jimmy confessed that he had seen Horton after that encounter at the bar...seen him several times. Each time Jimmy had tried to tell the guy that he had no intentions of helping Horton kill Duncan or any other immortals he wanted to kill. "He even bailed me out of jail the other day, telling me that we 'have a common enemy' and trying to say that MacLeod was evil. I might be jealous of the guy, but I'm not about to kill him!" "Not with his lousy aim," Joe thought to himself. =========================================================================== Author: ??? Title: Secret Agent XW7 Receives New Orders When: During the day Where: On the Other Side of the Pond Secret Agent XW7 sat in the lounge at the Agency, watching videos of James Bond movies, and confirming yet again that the only worthy successor to Sean Connery would have been a certain English born actor with the unlikely name (on the far side of the pond, at least) of Adrian Paul. While XW7 was sipping a martini, carefully stirred, not shaken, in protest of the naming of another actor to such an important role, and also after having stuffed the nasty olive (no, not with pimento - they come that way to start) inconspicuously amongst the cushions of the programming director's chair (said individual being responsible for the James Bond Video at a time when XW7 had had every right to expect to indulge in a marathon viewing of the beta versions of Highlander Season III) with its sturdy and pointy wooden toothpick in a vertical posture, when a member of the Agency staff scurried in with an ivory Art Deco telephone on a gilded tray. "Phone call for you, Agent XW7." The Agent sent the staff member out for a cord to plug into the telephone, then threw him out period. "Hello?" said the Agent. "XW7, how lovely to hear you again," purred the voice on the other end of the line. XW7's brows bounced up, and the Agent tossed down the rest of the martini, anticipating instant action. "Mrs C! You know I lost my voice in Bosnia before that business in Martinique." "Well, I'm glad you found it again!" snapped C. "You sounded like Rich Little doing a bad Darth Vader immitation. Or maybe Carol Channing. Listen, XW7, I have a job for you." "I'm ready, Mrs C. What is it?" "You're going to Seacouver, XW7." "Gotcha. Hear there's a little hot spot there right now." "Indeed. The news is spreading fast." "Not that fast. I do have Secret Agent Sources (tm) y'know. What's the mission, C?" "Pest Control, XW7. It's quite a tail, I mean tale. Specifics will follow. For now, just get yourself there ASAP." "Right, Mrs C." "Good. Oh, and 7...?" "Yeah, C?" "Stock up on Coke. Lots of Coke." XW7's brows rose high, but the Agent was too well trained to respond vocally to a code phrase. Wearing a thoughtful expression, the Agent hung up the phone and disconnected the wire as the director of programming came in. This one might be very enjoyable. As the Agent turned to leave, the programming director found the olive, and proceeded to announce his discovery with a rending bellow, enabling Agent XW7 to leave for a challenging assignment wearing a smile. =========================================================================== Date: Tue, 2 Apr 1996 17:41:08 -0700 From: Falcon Storm Subject: WAR: The Mission Title: The Mission Author: Falcon Storm When: early afternoon Where: Duncan's Place The plans were set. Since the meeting between Methos, Duncan, and their team leaders, the loft had been turned into a communications base; everyone had salvaged their computers and cellular phones, and were preparing to get serious - well, at least those who weren't suffering from excruitating hang-overs. Chirpie had agreed to lead the way, and waited patiently outside on Falcon's shoulder. "Can I call the animals?" Falcon eagerly asked Lisa, who was standing beside her. Lisa nodded, and Falcon put her fingers to her lips. There was no sound, except for Lisa's laughter at her friend's failed attempt. "Try this," she said, and began instructing Falcon how to position her fingers in her mouth. She tried again, but to no avail. "Dammit!" she cursed. "Are we ready to go?" Duncan asked from behind, putting on his coat and stashing his muramata in its usual space. "One for you," he said to Falcon, offering her a katana. "I can't whistle for the horses," Falcon complained, accepted the familiar weapon. Chirpie, exasperated, chirped her own whistle, and the horses and dogs immediately began approaching down the street. Lisa and Duncan couldn't help but laugh. "At least I can ride," Falcon said in a meek attempt to defend herself. The immortals, as well as Falcon, Lisa, Elys, and Sandy mounted their respective horses. Dana and Heidi stood by on Dana's motorcycle. "Got the cell phone, Sandy?" Methos asked, and she nodded, determination set on her face. "Be careful you guys," Char spoke, and the remaining faction members watched the small group ride off through the city with Chirpie leading the way. ------------------------------- The neighborhoods grew decreasing prosperous, and more industrialized. Appropriately, the sky began to darken as though knowing the possible danger the group was approaching. Chirpie stopped to perch on a lone, bare tree outside of a large warehouse. She looked at the steel building, almost afraid of it. "This must be it," Falcon said, noting her pet's expression. They rode in slowly, the dogs leading the way, Chirpie deciding it was safer to nestle herself in Falcon's coat collar. All was eerily silent. Once they came to the warehouse entrance, they dismounted their horses and Duncan's expression lit up again. "There's an immortal here," Methos said, also having felt the buzz. "Let me go first," Duncan said. It was not a request. Falcon followed in behind the two immortals, with Sandy in the back, communicating quietly on the cell phone. Duncan started, his sword lashing out, and the clank of steel hitting steel pierced the silence. "Connor!" "Duncan!" "Ah!" came the startled cry of a tall, red-headed woman standing near Connor. The MacLeods withdrew their swords, and Methos re-stashed his before it was even noticed. "What are you doing here?" Duncan asked his clansman. "Virginia heard about this woman Lizbet who had been kidnapped. We came to help you." "Glad you're here," the eldest immortal said. "I'm Methos." Duncan then introduced the rest of the group, and Connor introduced his faction leader, Virginia, whom he noticed was watching Methos intently. She was drawn to the strong features of his face, how thick his dark hair was, and how his eyes glistened mischieviously. Methos was watching her return, wondering how magnificent she would look if he were able to pull her long red hair from its pins, and remove the glasses that covered the detail of her eyes. "Are Lizbet and Horton here?" Lisa asked, interrupting the spell that had entranced Virgina and Methos. Connor squinted at his faction leader and the ancient immortal, but drew his attention to the question addressed to him. "I don't know. We just got here." Footsteps were suddenly heard in a nearby hallway, causing the group to rush after the sound. Expecting to find Horton, Duncan's eyes were ablaze, but instead, two women were startled by his maniacal expression. "What's going on here? Who are you?" the handsome immortal asked, beginning to feel very confused. "I'm Wendy, and this is Selma." "Where's Horton?" he asked. "And Lizbet?" Falcon chimed in. In the background, Sandy was desperately trying to keep up with the confusion as she relayed to headquarters. "They're not here," Wendy answered. "You just missed them." Duncan put a hand to his head as though he was warding off a headache. "Then what are *you* doing here?" Wendy paused, looking at Selma. "Leaving," she answered, and the two women dashed away before anymore could be said. "So now what?" Lisa asked. Virginia spoke up. "I remember some mention of Joe's...?" Methos looked at her as though she were a true angel come to guide their way. "Everybody goes to Joe's," he explained, coining the overused phrase. And off they went. ------------------------------- Falcon Storm: Historian: DFW International Co-Chief for the War DFW's "There can be only one" @ satori@mt.net <<<<<@{}======================>>> @ http://www.mt.net/~satori/DFW/DFW.html =========================================================================== Date: Wed, 3 Apr 1996 11:10:00 -0500 From: Virginia Foster Subject: WAR: The CFW's Meet the DFW's Title: The CFW's Meet the DFW's Author: Virginia Foster (with some dialogue borrowed from Falcon Storm) When: Thursday 3/21 about 2 or 3 in the afternoon Immediately following "Richie meets Sir Lancelot" Where: starts out at the Lambert Inn, ends up at the warehouse. After Richie and company left, Connor and his flag wavers were gathered in his suite, planning their next move. Polly spoke up "We could go to Joe's. Someone in Richie's faction mentioned that everyone seems to gather there." Connor thought about it and agreed. He had heard from Virginia about Joe and the great jazz band that played at Joe's place. "It would give me a chance to see Duncan." While they were talking, Virginia decided to check her email. She got out her laptop and brought up the email software. "Oh no!" She gasped. Everyone turned to look at her. Connor walked over to her and put his hand on her shoulder. "What is it, Virginia? Not more bad news?" "Lizbet has been kidnapped by Horton. And he is wanting to meet with the DFW's and us to discuss terms of her release." Virginia read from the screen. "But why us?" Darci asked. "He's after the Methos Chronicles. What does that have to do with us?" Connor sighed. "I don't know, but we will find out. Duncan could use our help. And it sounds like this lady certainly can use all the help she can get." And so it was decided that Connor and Virginia would go to the warehouse and the other flag wavers would meet up with them at Joe's. They parked the car about a block from the warehouse so as not to alert Horton to their presence. The two did not see Duncan or his flag wavers anywhere, so they made their way towards the warehouse. Connor paused occasionally to look in windows. "Do you see anything?" Virginia whispered. "No, it looks deserted. But lets keep looking." They continued on towards the entrance, with Connor leading the way and Virginia's hand gripping his. This was not the best looking neighborhood she'd ever been in, and for the first time was wondering about this war stuff. Suddenly Connor stopped. "What is it?" Virginia started to ask, but Connor motioned for her to be quiet and pulled his sword from the space in his coat. It was obvious, even without sound, that he had sensed another immortal. With sword in hand, and Virginia behind him, Connor turned the corner and found his attack blocked by his clansman Duncan MacLeod. "Connor!" "Duncan!" Virginia came from behind Connor to see both Duncan and Methos standing there. "Ah!" was about all she could manage. "What are you doing here?" Duncan wanted to know. Connor explained about the message from Horton about Lizbet. "We thought we'd come help. I can't let you have all the fun." "Glad you're here," Methos stepped up and introduced himself and his faction. "Are Lizbet and Horton here?", one of the MFW's wanted to know. "I don't know." Connor answered. "We just got here." ------------------------------- Virginia Foster vfoster@mindspring.com Chief, Connor Faction Flag Waver for Connor MacLeod / Christopher Lambert "Same clan, different vintage" / "Dare to dream" http://www.mindspring.com/~vfoster/va.html =========================================================================== Date: Fri, 29 Mar 1996 16:00:42 -0600 From: Deb Palmer Subject: War: logan arrives in Seacouver Title: logan arrives in Seacouver Auhor: Deb Palmer When: Thursday, after certain...slimy events at the Four Seasons but before Kip's wake Where: Seacouver Airport and Four Seasons Hotel And I'm really glad I wrote logan in before that so he can be here for it! *********************************************************************88 Seacouver Airport Deb was running a bit late due to certain...events...at the Four Seasons, so she stashed the rental car in a No Parking space and rushed inside to check the incoming flights. Damn! The one from Lexington was on time and landed 10 minutes ago. She quickly headed for the gate, hoping logan hadn't given up on her. She made it to the gate and quickly scanned the crowd for him. She hadn't actually seen him since the scuba diving lessons last year but he was still a familiar face. Ahh! There he was, just getting ready to head for the baggage claim area. "logan!" she yelled, not really caring that people were turning to look at her. It served her purpose, since it got his attention and he turned as well. "Deb!" he exclaimed and they headed towards each other. He swept her into a hug like only logan can give. "It's so good to see you again. Exactly what the hell is going on around here anyway?" "It's way too complicated to try and explain. Let's get your stuff and I'll brief you in the car. Oh, and we need to stop by my hotel to pick up a few things first. I was in such a hurry that I left without the laptop. And Carol Ann will have my head if I'm out of touch for very long." They picked up his bags and headed for the Miata in the No Parking space. Deb pulled the ticket out from under the windshield wiper and threw it into the glove box. Time enough to worry about that later, if we were all still alive. She quickly briefed him on the current situation as they zipped through Seacouver towards the Four Seasons where her room was located. Arriving, Deb dropped the car off with the valet parking and headed upstairs, dragging logan by the hand behind her. she thought as they rode up in the elevator to the private floor Toni had managed to arrange for the PSGs. Using the keycard, Deb opened the door to her room. "So logan, is your little fling with the Portuguese Pirate over?" she asked as they went inside. He shot her a confused glance. "You know it is. We've talked about it before. It was just the stress of the moment. We really had nothing in common. What's going on?" "Just wanted to be sure," Deb commented as she shut and bolted the door behind them. "I've been waiting a long time for this." She walked over to him and slid her arms around his neck. "Kiss me." "Ooh, no problem," he replied, sliding his arms around her and bending his head down, kissing her gently. Gradually, he deepened the kiss, tracing her lips with his tongue... (And since this is a PG war, that's all the detail about *that* you're going to get!) ------------------------------------------- Two hours later, Deb came awake to logan trying to extricate himself from the bed without waking her. She leaned up on one elbow and looked at him, appreciating the view for a moment before she spoke. "Where do you think you're going?" she asked. "Well, I was brought here to rescue someone. I figured it was time to get back to the business at hand," he replied, heading for his jeans. "*This* is your business at hand," she informed him. "The other business can wait. I'm not done with you yet." "Oh, yeah? Just what did you have in mind?" he asked, turning back towards the bed. Deb merely smiled at him. "You'll find out. Just let me check my e-mail real quick and send a message. Then we won't be disturbed." She climbed out of bed with the sheet wrapped around her and went over to where the laptop was set up on the table. Deb logged on and scanned through the waiting messages. Nothing that couldn't wait. She quickly sent a message to Celli. To: slane@sunbird.usd.edu From: palmer@crpl.cedar-rapids.lib.ia.us Subject: logan Celli, I got to the airport to pick up logan but he wasn't there. I checked and he didn't catch the flight out of Lexington. Maybe he'll be on a later flight. I'll call the airport later and check. Gotta go check on Methos. deb One more message and she'd be set for the rest of the day. to: grinnyp@aros.net from: palmer@crpl.cedar-rapids.lib.ia.us subject: on the trail... Carol Ann, I just got a clue about the Methos Chronicle. I'm off to follow up on it. It might take a while so don't worry if you don't hear from me until tomorrow. I'll have my cell phone, though, so you get get in touch in case of emergency. deb Smiling, Deb shut down the computer and turned to logan. "Now, we have all day and won't have to worry about being interrupted by this damn War. How does a shower sound?" He gave her that evil grin he had perfected so well and replied, "Well, that depends on whether you were planning on sharing it..." (And it's *still* a PG war so you all are just going to have to use your imaginations about what happened next!) ------------------------------------------ deb "Make mine logan!" he's got me tingling in places I didn't even know I had! palmer@crpl.cedar-rapids.lib.ia.us =========================================================================== Date: Fri, 29 Mar 1996 02:26:06 -0500 From: Jill Marie Spetoskey Subject: WAR: The Wake NOTE: The Wake is not part of the continuity flow but rather a parralel universe (think series and movie relationship). Title: The Wake Author: Jill Marie Spetoskey When: Day After the Christening Where: Joe's, The Bunker Jill had left the Christening party early. The smell of the potato salad had been too much to bear. Besides between about a thousand different things, she had left a real mess in the common areas of the bar. Just as she was bundling up pizza boxes, she heard a knock at the door. "Great, first it was dognappers, then building inspectors. This one's probably the health department, and they're gonna complain that I'm storing trash wrong or something." Grudgingly, she made her way to the door. There was a ferret there, fur dulled, and eyes glassed over. "Jill Marie Spetoskey?" She nodded, and tried to wipe tomato sauce off her hands. "I've got a letter for you. Also, since you're the person in the location closest to the property involved, I am instructed to deliver the building key to you." He handed her an envelope and a keyring from the Roadkill Cafe. He turned and left as Jill opened the envelope. The neatly typed correspondence was from the will of Kip. "......and I hereby will the bunker and the contents within it to the following people on the condition that it never be used or occupied by weasels or their proxies in any way shape or form: Debbie Douglass Virginia Foster logan ............" The list went on for several hundred more names. "Damn." Jill mumbled, tears streaming down her face. Fumbling behind the counter, she pulled out paper and marker, and lettered a sign. CLOSED-DEATH IN THE FAMILY Placing the sign over the other closure sign, Jill took the keyring and headed to the bunker. Traveling through a maze of streets, she found herself at a neat white doorway. Although the door was steel, the frame was wooden, and there were chomps of wood missing from in it in the shape of weasel bites. She opened the door and heard what sounded like a ferret trying to sing showtunes. "Sohmmme ehnchanted eevening, youuuu may zee a stranger aaaaacross a crowded room" Cautiously, Jill pulled a maglite flashlight from her pocket, and gave a shine down the stairway. Nothing. She edged down the stairway and turned to see.... A woozy wombat staggering around seemingly intoxicated. The wombat yelped, a cross between a shriek and a hiccup, and Jill jumped high enough to nearly bang her head on the doorframe. "What are you doing here?" Both yelled at the same time. (GMTA, you know) "Housecleaning service." The wombat was the first to reply. "I'm supposed to keep things dusted and weasel free while the owner's away. Why are you here?" "Sadly, I'm one of the new owners here." Jill passed the wombat the letter. He read it slowly. "Damn, I've got to take care of a few things in the new situation." Before Jill could say another word, the wombat fled up the stairways, leaving behind only a hoard of empty Pepsi bottles and the scent of marshmallows. Jill turned off the flashlight and looked around the place. The most obvious thing was the neat row of television monitors. Some were apparently getting signals from cameras placed around the Seacouver area, and a few others had graphics proclaiming that their signal was live from Paris via sattelite. One was set to recieve the HL sattelite feed, and another was set permanently to Court TV. "I guess he wanted to keep tabs on the enemy." She had just started to notice a group of neatly stacked boxes when she heard another knock. She debated not answering the door, bad things seemed to happen when she did, but the insistent knocking continued. Jill groaned and walked back across the bunker to answer the door. "Hi I'm Sally Struthers going door to door for my latest project: The World Ferret Development Fund. For only the price of a double mocha a day, you can ensure that not only will ferrets in developing areas recieve basic services such as food and health care, but you will also ensure they recieve the finest correspondence education that we can afford." Jill grinned wickedly. she needed a laugh right now. "Why don't you come in and I'll write you a check?" The chubby blonde started to follow her in, but as she saw the bunker, she started to scream. "Nooooo!! I can't handle it again. It took me eight months of therapy after last time!!" Sally turned away and continued to scream as she fled up the stairway. Jill returned to her inspection of the interesting boxes, and discovered that half were scotch and the other half were Bailey's. A further review turned up Guiness and Pepsi on tap. A revelation struck Jill. "We need a wake, but how can I get all the factions in one place. I'm not sure it would qualify as holy ground here. Well, if it's not now, I'll make it so." She found the phone and was quickly speaking to Father Douglass. "Hi, I don't know many clergy in Seacouver, but I was wondering if you could do me a favor?" There was a mumble on the other end. "Yes, we met at Mary's christening. Yes, I realize you probably don't want to deal with any of us again, but there's one little thing. A credit card reciept from a certain leather shop in Florida. Oh good- you'll make it over in an hour then?" Jill poured herself a Pepsi, pulled out an address book and started calling people, first those that were out of town and then the war people. About midway through, the father came to the bunker to take care of the cannonical erection. (yes, that is the actual technical term for the consecration of a building process) After hearing Jill's story, he offered to stay for the service, and even helped her make some of the phone calls. About two hours later, they started trickling in. Jill greeted people with a hug and an offer of a drink. Soon, the gathering was in full swing, and people had started to share stories....... In Memory of Kip may eternal light shine upon him (you do realize that if he were around, the wombats would be getting pointers from him. ) Jill Marie jilkey@umich.edu =========================================================================== Date: Sun, 31 Mar 1996 15:41:27 -0600 From: Deb Palmer Subject: War: Memories and Tears Title: Memories and Tears Author: Deb Palmer When: afternoon Where: Four Seasons Deb and logan stirred on the bed. It had been a great afternoon, but now reality was intruding on fantasy land. It was time to get ready for Kip's wake. logan came out of the bathroom to find Deb just standing there in the middle of the room, tears streaming down her face. He came up behind her and pulled her close. "I just can't believe he's gone," she said through the tears. "Yeah, I know. It won't be the same without him," logan replied, the sadness showing in his eyes as he pressed a kiss onto the top of her head. "I think...I need...would you just hold me for a few minutes?" Deb asked, leaning her head against him. "I think that would do us both some good," he answered as he settled into a chair, pulling her down onto his lap and wrapping his arms around her. Deb curled up on his lap, winding her arms around him. Burying her face against his neck, she continued to cry quietly. logan rubbed her back with one hand as he just let her cry, lost in his own memories of Kip. The cows. The Anti-Weasel Defense Bunker. His skirmishes with the ferrets. There were so many good memories. "Shh. It's going to be all right, love," he whispered against her hair as he felt the tears begin to subside. "It just *hurts*," she said, turning her head and laying it against his shoulder. "I know. But we'll try to carry on as Kip would have wanted, not taking things too seriously, being able to make fun of ourselves. That's the best tribute we can give him," logan replied, kissing her forehead. Deb sighed and the two of them continued to sit there, lost in memories. --------------------------------------------- We'll miss you, Kip. But we'll never forget you. deb "Make mine logan!" he's got me tingling in places I didn't even know I had! palmer@crpl.cedar-rapids.lib.ia.us =========================================================================== Date: Sat, 30 Mar 1996 20:47:25 -0500 From: Sandy Fields Subject: War: A Visit From a Wombat Title: A Visit from a Wombat Author: Sandy Fields When: afternoon Where: Seacouver Hilton The ladies were in the middle of a videotape marathon. Barb had brought along a "special" tape she had made. It was full of nothing but great face moments, butt shots, BVD shots, bedpost rattlers, katas, etc. They had *really* gotten into that one. They were now deeply engrossed in their Season 1 & 2 tapes -- trying to pick out those eurominutes -- and did not want to be disturbed. Charlotte kept hearing a scratching on the door. But every time she'd say something to the others, they just ignored here. "Look Char!", Tiye was excited. "See, I told you Richie never woke up in 'The Darkness'!" Char waved her off and put her ear to the door. Scratch...scratch... scratch. She opened the door, and at first she didn't see anything. She looked down the empty hallway. Nothing. As she began to shut the door, she felt something scratching at her ankle. A little furry brown tailless animal was looking up at her. "I told you!", shouted Charlotte. "It's a wombat!" NOW the others pulled their attention away just as the DDG immortal handed the keys to his friend and told him to "sell it". They all looked up at Char. Their eyes were gleaming as if they were about shed a tear. "Can't help it. That montage gets me every time. Now what are you shouting about Char?" Sure enough, the little furry thing had creeped into the room and was just standing there.. as if waiting for something. "Oh... probably come for the Coke I promised her for helping to wire Kassim's car. Here you go." Joanne poured two cans of the stuff into the ice bucket. The wombat just ignored it. Barb shook herself out of her Highlander high and thought for a moment. "Well if the wombats are paying us a visit, and ignoring a bucket of Coke, something must be up. We've been into this marathon for so long now... when was the last time Sandy checked our email?" Just as Sandy opened up the laptop to check, the animal began to shake and.... grow! Within moments a woman stood before them. "Wow! I had heard that you could do that, but I've never seen it! Very impressive!" Sandy smiled. "But why are you here?" "The DFW's have been trying to reach you guys for hours! Where on earth have you been?!" asked Rose. "We were here", Tiye answered. "We turned off the phone so our Highlander marathon wouldn't be disturbed." "Well, that was not the smartest thing to do in the middle of a war, was it? Anyway, something's brewing. The Kimmies are *all* going to Joe's tonight. All of them. We don't know yet if the other factions will be there, but after that reception yesterday, you ladies are the only ones that can mingle with Kimmies. They don't know you. So... are you game?" "Sounds like just the kind of thing we came here for, right ladies?" They all gave Sandy the thumbs up, and Rose morphed back into her little furry alter ego and began loudly slurping the Coke out of the bucket. When she was done, she went to the door and stood there. Charlotte let her out and watched as the wombat disappeared down the hall. Sandy was watching the mail come into Eudora. There was one from Falcon. "It seems Falcon wants us to see if we can get any info out of the Kimmies. So I guess it's Joe's tonight. And they'll probably be serving pizza again." A low moan emanated from all the women in the room. Motor City Mama =========================================================================== Date: Wed, 3 Apr 1996 10:21:20 -0500 From: Nerida Bridgeford Subject: WAR: Just to complete the collection... Title: Just to Complete the Collection Author: The Lurkers Where: Outside Richie's apartment building When: Sometime Thursday "He's never coming out of there," Maddog declared, taking a big bite of her chocolate croissant and washing it down with some latte. Seacouver seemed to have a coffee shop with pastries every ten feet. She hoped the tesserect could handle the added weight. "I think you're right. He's afraid to come out lest skanky women attack him for the sweet young thing he is," Rastro mumbled around her pecan roll. "Well then," Maddog put down her cup and dusted the crumbs off her sweatshirt. "Happy Birthday." Before Rastro could comment that her birthday wasn't for days yet, Maddog grabbed her and threw her into a dumpster. "Wot the hell are you doing?" Rastro yelled as the lid came banging down. "You're gonna get to be the "helpless yet competent woman in distress" lure. There anything to bang on the lid with in there?" "Oh, uh, no, seems to be all pizza boxes." Maddog looked around and grabbed a piece of wood from a packing crate and tossed it into the dumpster. "Owww, you git, you hit me!" "Are you bleeding?" "Yes!" "Good, that'll make it look more authentic. Give me five minutes to get into place and then start banging. Richie will sense the "female in distress" vibes through the air and come a running to rescue you from your troubles. I'll install the cameras in the shower while he's out. Make sure you hold him down here for at least five minutes, maybe you should swoon or something." "Swoon? I'm a woman of the 90's, we don't swoon!" "He has a cute butt and great forearms." "I think I feel a bit faint," Rastro agreed, feeling her forehead. "Perfect, later vater," her fellow Lurker said as she let the lid come banging back down. The five minutes seemed like an eternity to Rastro. The smell of old, stale pizza was overwhelming especially that nasty sausage scent. But she waited until all the time was up before banging on the top of the dumpster. She hoped Maddog was right (it would be a definite change of the rest state of the universe) and Richie came and got her out. "Hey, anybody in there," a familiar voice, muffled by the metal of the container, called out to her. "Oi, I'm in here," Rastro yelled, banging with the piece of wood. She was starting another upswing when Richie opened the lid. The piece of wood connected firmly with his head and he fell backward. Rastro was just able to stick the wood underneath the lid before it came back down again. Jumping out of the dumpster, she saw Richie lying on the ground, a large knot forming on his head. "He's injured," an unholy smile lit her face. "This is the best birthday present anybody has ever given me!" ---------------------------------------------- Fifteen minutes later at an ice cream shop in Seacouver.... Maddog sat in a booth with pink seats across from Rastro. The look of horror on her face was only broken ocasionally by a spoonful of the hot fudge sundae in front of her. "Rastro, that's the third sundae you've eaten in five minutes!" "I can't help it. I'm so... happy." "Uh, huh, so you just fondled him while he was unconscious and then took off?" "Yeah," Rastro licked the chocolate sauce from the sides of the sundae glass. "You didn't talk to him?" "Why would I want to do that?" "Okay, I don't think I want to go there. The cameras are in place, we should have some great shots in a few hours. Only one problem though - I had to promise all the Richie FWs copies of the tapes. They had him totally surrounded and it was the only way to get them to leave for a few minutes so he could come out and rescue you." "I don't care about the cost, it was worth it," Rastro grinned, looking very satisfied. "Oi, waitress, another hot fudge sundae with pistachio ice cream!" she called out. Maddog just shuddered. ******** =========================================================================== Date: Wed, 3 Apr 1996 18:36:57 -0500 From: Dana Gunn Subject: WAR: Seven Labors of Stavros Title: The Seven Labors of Stavros Author: Dana Gunn When: late afternoon Where: various places beginning with the Four Seasons. Toni had been trying to get Dana aside all afternoon. She'd noticed he'd seemed less than happy at Stravos' treatment of the erstwhile "maid" and at Starvos' treatment of him... there was *something going on* there... Toni hooked Dana's arm and began to talk in a lowered voice, "I saw you talking with Stavros. That's not something you would want the others or even Adam himself to know about. " Cocking an eyebrow, Dana looked at here and said a bit sinidely, "Merely a business arrangement, my dear. " "Well, your business is our business in during a war." "Look, this goes back before this started. I have had a few dealings with him in the past." Then looking down and pushing his hands into his pockets he muttered, "Some things I haven't been too pleased about. He has embarrassed me more than once and you know, he still owes me for the last favor I did for him." Toni's eyes brightened up a bit, "Now's your chance at redemption." Finally Dana asked suspiciously "What do you want? "Just a small favor", she replied. , he thought. "It's Stravros", she said, "I'd just like him to 'disappear' for a while..." "Disappear?" "Yeah, nothing permanent, just a little painful. Can you help arrange that?" , he thought. Still, it was a challenge, and Dana always was up for a challenge... Dana began to thing out loud, "What to do with him...hmmm. If I'm going to do this it has to be something appropriate. It has to be retribution..." "Hmmm, Greeks, punishment... hmmm ...I have an idea". Toni picked up her cell phone and dialed Lisa. "Hi Lisa, it's Toni. I was just wondering... you mentioned you were having trouble finding assistant stable hands for MFW Cavalry?" "Uh-Huh... hard work huh... dirty too.. well I might have a prospect.. only one thing -- I know you stables are well hidden, but are they secure? Uh...this guy might be sort of an unwilling guest, but I hear he's *very* good at cleaning.... Strong?, well yeah, you might say that, he's a regular..Her...uh never mind, wrong show... No, you don't have to meet us. Probably better you don't know exactly... Why don't you explain to Dana how to get there... (passing him the phone). After Dana got the directions to the stable from Lisa he handed the phone back to Toni. "I'll get to work. You know that temporary disapperances are harder to handle and explain." "I'm sure you'll be able to handle it." "I always do. I'll be sure to take a picture for you." Climbing on his bike his thoughts began to race, flipping through all the old movies he had seen, The Mechanic, Goodfellas, Godfather; nah, too permanent a solution. Hmmm, The Three Stooges, Animaniacs, Daffy Duck; now that's just being ridiculous. Finally he had it. At a traffic light he took out his cell phone and called Toni. "Hey, it's me. I need a couple of people from that great rolodex of yours." A few short minutes later he pocketed the phone and roared out of the intersection heading for the wharf. Stavros was predictable in his habits. Many men of great wealth are. Dana and his two newly acquired friends met him in a meadow where he was riding. "What do you want?" "Well, it seems that you owe me for some past work and I have recently come into work that contradicts with the Pierson project." The largest man of the trio reached up and with a strong hand expertly pressed a nerve on Stavros' neck. He instantly went limp. They carried him to a van. "What's that you're ripping?" asked the leanest of the three. "It's fabric from an army officer of Guilder." "Who's Guilder?" asked the giant. "The country across the sea. The sworn enemy of Florin!" (AAAAAHHH!! sorry. famous kidnapping scene. had to be done) The van bumped along the road toward the stables, the giant and thin man singing the trip away. Looking in the mirror the thin man, who was driving said, "Are you sure no one follows us?" Dana, with an irritating look snapped, "Yes, no one knows what we've done or could have gotten here that fast. Out of curiosity, why do you ask?" "It's just that I look behind us and suddenly something is there." (crap, I did it again.) The van finally parked in front of the MFW calvary stables. While Dana and his companions were unloading their unwilling, although passive, passenger a short, rather stocky, bald man came up behind them. "Is this him?" a very rough voice asked. "Yeah. It's him. I'm sure that you can keep him quite busy cleaning out the stables for a while." "No problem. There's always shit to be done around here." "Ah, yes. Well," Dana said thoughtfully, dumping Stavros on the ground next to a water trough, "that's exactly what I had in mind." As the short man dumped a bucket of water on Stavros to wake him up Dana thought . Stavros was raining curses upon the trio all the way to the stables followed by the stable master kicking and pushing the entire time. Dana took out a camera and flashed a couple of shots of Stavros shoveling manure out of the first of many stables, his suit beginning to turn from stark white to quite brown. The stablemaster urging him to go faster was the last thing the trio heard as they drove back to pick up his bike and return to the hotel. -- Aut Pax Aut Bellum Dana Gunn of the Clan Gunn *8) =========================================================================== Date: Tue, 2 Apr 1996 18:08:39 -0800 From: Joanne Curme Subject: WAR: Some Days, It's Just Not Worth Chewing Through The Leather "Everything dies, baby, that's a fact. But maybe everything that dies, some day comes back." --- "Atlantic City", Bruce Springsteen Title: Some Days, It's Just Not Worth Chewing Through The Leather Author: Joanne Curme, Rob Distante Where: 5-6 PM When: Seacouver docks It was a dark and stormy night at the haunted castle... well, no it wasn't. Not yet, anyway. It was actually late afternoon in Seacouver, and the K'immie Brigade (Joanne, Rob, Tay, and Carol Ann -- the taller one with *short* hair) had taken the afternoon off from the war and were strolling down by the pier. Tay and CA, as she was known to her friends, had never been to Seacouver and they were enjoying the sights that Joanne pointed out to them as they walked. "And over there's one of the best latte stands in town -- The Froth Cup." "The *Dented* Froth Cup," Rob clarified with a gleam in his eye. CA squealed and tugged on Tay's hand. They'd gotten very friendly since meeting each other earlier that week. "Oh, I'd *love* a mocha right now! Let's get one." Rob stole a glance at Joanne, who was glaring at him, then said, "Um, why don't go somewhere else? I don't think we're welcome there anymore. We had a little trouble the last time we, uh, 'ran in' to them." Joanne rubbed her elbow and said nothing. They walked past the aquarium, down toward where the boats were docked. "So Rob, did you get in to see Grandfather today?" Tay asked in a rare moment when he wasn't gazing wordlessly into CA's eyes. "Yes, and he sends his regards. I'll tell you all the details later." It had been another happy coincidence that both men were friends of the ancient monk's; I mean, who knew Wu knew Tay too? -------------------------------------- They were almost at the end of the pier when CA (in a rare moment when she wasn't snuggling up to Tay) pointed to a boat a few feet away. "That's weird! The engines are running, but they're still tied to the pier. They won't get very far like that." "No, but *you* will!" the man behind CA said as he grabbed her from behind and roughly pushed her on board. Tay started to shout but he, too, was being shoved onto the boat, Joanne and Rob stumbling after him. Within moments, the man had untied the ropes from the pier and the foursome found themselves prisoners on board the little boat, guarded carefully by a brutish looking thug with a machine gun. Rob shrugged helplessly. "I'd do something, but I missed the 'bullet catching' class last month." The captain turned around to look at his new captives. "Benny Carbassa!" Tay exclaimed. "Fancy meeting you here," Rob growled. Benny beamed at them. "Glad you could make it, all of you." "How did you know we would be here?" CA asked. Benny smiled wickedly. "Horton intercepted the e-mailed first draft of this post you sent to each other; we just went to where you wrote you would be." "So Horton's got you on a leash now, too," Joanne said. "Benny, is there anything you wouldn't do for the right price?" Benny's smile dropped a fraction. "Come on, we're going for a little trip. Anchors aweigh!" Benny went back to steering the boat. Rob started to turn green. "Boats. Why'd it have to be boats?" he groaned. -------------------------------------- Kenny walked along the dock, eating a bag of cookies he had gotten from a sailor. he thought wickedly. Just then he saw the boat pulling away and did a double-take at the motley crue assembled on the stern. Kenny got so excited he tossed his cookies. he thought as he watched Rob, slightly green and holding on to the rail tightly. He ran to the boat, catching up just as it reached the end of the pier. "Hey, you guys going fishing? Can I come? Huh? Can I?" he asked eagerly, looking the picture of innocence. The thug looked at Benny and saw the evil grin slowly spreading across his captain's face. "Sure, kid. Come on board." He reached over and grabbed Kenny by the scruff of the neck, dragging him onto the boat and dropping him on the deck as the boat left the pier and headed out to sea. ---------------------------------- "You know, every day you fish adds another year to your life!!" Kenny exclaimed for the hundredth time in the past fifteen minutes. He was impatiently trying to untangle a fishing pole he had scrounged up under some life preservers. Everyone glared at him, except Rob, who was doing some sort of yoga thing to keep himself relaxed enough to not throw up over the side of the boat. Joanne listened carefully -- he seemed to be chanting something... "...the mate was a mighty sailing man the skipper, brave and sure. Five passengers set sail that day for a three hour tour... a three hour tour... " "I love fishing. You know, every day..." Benny turned up the volume on the Maritime Weather Channel, grateful to drown out the kid's babbling with even this crap. It would only be a little while longer before they reached Horton's secret base, anyway... ***THUD*** "NNNOOOOOoooooo!!!" {clink clink clink} ~~~~SPLASH!!~~~~ Benny looked back at his unwilling passengers. Rob was pointing at the wake behind the boat, laughing. Laughing? A few minutes ago he'd been ready to puke. He didn't see the brat anywhere, but at least that idiotic babbling had stopped. The pole was still hanging over the rail...but why was the tow chain in the water? Where was Kenny? And what were they using for bait? "What's going on back there?" he called. Horton would have his head if there was any trouble with THIS group. "Nuthin', boss. We're just fishin' wit Kenny." ---------------------------------------- It couldn't have been more than 15 minutes later when the boat pulled into a shadowy cove consisting of high, dark, granite cliffs. An unstable looking dock led them to creaky wooden stairs, perilously clinging to the high cliffs. Waves crashed ominously on the jagged boulders below. Fog and mist obscured their view, and they were pelted by heavy drops of rain. They could almost hear the sound of the screaming of lost souls, and maniacal laughter. Above them was a gothic style castle -- a haunted looking castle -- lit only by the last feeble rays of the sun. It was a dark and stormy night at the haunted castle... at last. They reached the top, frightened and subdued by the experience. Benny and his thug waved them forward to the castle. They opened the back door and heard the deep, dark chords of organ music. A man in a dark cloak suddenly stood up from the instrument, dropping away the cloak and a mask to the floor. They all gasped. "Horton!" "Welcome to my lair... members of the K'immie Brigade" ---------------------------------------- Horton was gloating as he led them inside the house. Finally he had located a group in this War he believed would ally with him. "I've watched you for a while now," Horton said to Rob as the group made their way down the old oak staircase. "I know about you -- and your history with the Pomona Watchers." Caught unawares, Rob nervously said, "I don't know what you're talking about." "Let me refresh your memory. A few years ago the Pomona Watchers were a very active group based in your area of Southern California, and tried to recruit you after you had a few choice encounters with immortals. Suddenly, immortals started disappearing mysteriously from your region, and the Pomona Watchers were essentially disbanded, spread across the nation on other assignments. Your association with the Watchers ended, but even to this day, your general neighborhood has remained strangely devoid of immortals. I suspect you were the cause of this." Everyone looked at Rob. He shrugged. "It's... just that the cops kept finding these headless bodies around, apparently decapitated by swords... the local immortals were very sloppy, and the police were coming down really hard on anyone with Martial Arts experience. And it was scaring the customers, too." "So you -- eliminated the source of the problem, using Watcher records. You were a Hunter," Horton smiled. "We think alike. We could use someone like you on our side, with your experience and expertise." Joanne, Tay, and CA all looked at Rob in horror. Rob explained quietly. "There was too much pressure from the city. Most of the students weren't intimidated by the police... until they sent in their big guns to question everyone. I still rue the day the small man with the glasses came in. He said he had a few simple questions for us. He asked us to call him - Morty." "Morty - a nickname for Muerte? Death? What was he - some kind of Covert Ops man? A Green Beret? Special Forces? " Tay questioned. "No. His name was Mortimer - and he was an auditor from the IRS." A shiver ran down their spines. "I had to do something... so I accessed the Watcher's records and ran the local immortal troublemakers out of town. Once in a while I'd train with a visiting immie, and I'd use him to detect and chase off any potential problems." Horton chuckled. "Of course that's what happened, son. You can all believe him. You did well, Rob. Think about my offer. And while you're thinking, let me show you what we do in our spare time..." -------------------------------------- The group looked around the huge room in amazement. There were banks upon banks of tanks containing bodies in various stages of growth. Above each tank was a plaque with a generic male name -- Alexander, Harold, John, Thomas, William, on and on -- a variety of first names, all ending with the same surname... Horton. The faces all looked identical. "Humans injected with alien DNA?" asked Tay. "You watch too much X-files, Tay. They -- they all look like Horton!" CA gasped. "These -- are all *clones* of YOU?" Joanne whispered. "Why, Horton, why?" Rob asked in shock. Horton laughed evilly, taking great satisfaction in the looks on their faces. "I realized that the major downfall with the Hunters was not the organization -- which, after all, I developed -- but the weaknesses of the other members. So I put much of my money into cloning research, once I realized two very important things." "Which are... ?" Tay asked. "You can be in two different places at one time -- if there is more than one of you." "And... ?" CA questioned. "If you want something done right, you have to do it yourself." ------------------------------------ A bottomless plot hole suddenly evaporated. And the future effect of another bottomless hole disappeared entirely. ------------------------------------ One tank, containing the same icky ectoplasm the clones were growing in, stood off alone in its own corner of the lab. "Aah, yes," said Horton, noticing their interest and leading them to the apparatus. "This is a little pet project of mine. We'd found him to be quite... useful in the past, and were hoping to reestablish our working relationship. It was -- cut short -- by Duncan MacLeod." Joanne peered carefully into the murky fluid and jumped at the sudden movement within. Horton laughed demonically. "Slowly but surely, that project has progressed. Growth is slow, but we expect it to advance rapidly as its size increases." Rob stepped closer as Joanne backed away, sickened. Rob looked at the object in the goo in obvious disgust, then turned to face the crazed scientist. "You should destroy that thing, Horton! It's an abomination!" Inside the tank, something tapped repeatedly on the glass. Wiggling its fingers furiously in response to Rob's comment was a single disembodied light brown hand. Having attracted Rob's full attention, it balled into a fist, and slowly extended its center finger. ------------------------------------ "You're outcasts from the War. Everyone else has a hero that they're following, protecting, and performing... other acts with," Horton explained, wrinkling his nose in disgust. "You -- can have revenge on them all, simply by joining me." Horton led them to a computer monitor displaying a screen full of account numbers, each showing a large balance. "And we compensate our members very nicely." Joanne noticed Rob staring intently at the screens. "Does that include a health plan and 401(k)?" she asked, trying to distract Horton. If Rob was as good at memorizing numbers as he was remembering scenes from old TV shows and bad Kung Fu movies... "Yes, of course. We have a full choice of HMO's, dental and vision plans, very generous relocation and travel allowances, and a time-share at Martha's Vineyard. Plus we're instituting a Total Quality Management program in the fall. This is a very civilized and enlightened organization." "That just happens to include decapitating people as a goal," Tay said in disgust. Horton stared at him coldly. "You have no idea of the evil these creatures are capable of." Rob looked away from the screen, and winked at Joanne. "You're wrong, Horton. We've seen something so hideous that it would terrify even you." "What do you mean?" asked the Hunter. Shocked, he said "Surely you don't mean... ?" "Yes, Horton. We've seen the Chronicle... and a certain portion of a certain CD-ROM that would ruin Methos forever if it were made public," Joanne hinted cryptically. Horton was aghast. "I've heard stories of that, but I didn't think it was... I mean, I thought it was just... " Then he straightened up with a little sneer. "But of *course* you immediately destroyed it to protect his precious reputation." Joanne just smiled a little. "Actually, no. It's in a very safe place. We have plans for it." Horton laughed maniacally once again. Goosebumps covered everyone's skin. "I *knew* this was the right decision! We're going to make a great team, you and I." He grew quiet. "We have another matter to discuss before you can be initiated." Horton reached into a briefcase and pulled out -- something none of them expected. "Please fill out these items in full, in ink. Here's an employee application, a W2, and a waiver of patent rights -- all standard, I assure you. Be sure to fill in the names and phone numbers of at least three references not related to you, and have your resumes and educational transcripts forwarded to us. We'll send you confirmation in the mail in 4-6 weeks. And one more thing." He handed them a card. It said "Snake's Seacouver Tattoo Tower", and gave a street address and phone number. "Just tell them Jimmy sent you." --------------------------------- Horton was leading them toward the exit when Rob heard something from behind a curtain and pushed it aside. Horton jumped at him -- "No!" It was too late. The group stared through a one-way mirror into a dark cell occupied by a single woman. She was pacing back and forth, shouting to the air, wildly waving a conductor's baton in one hand and flipping through the pages of a large book with the other. Every now and then she would exaggerate her hand motions as if she were whapping something. Rob was angry. "OK, Horton, who's the girl? Why'd you take someone hostage?" Horton looked almost ashamed. "She calls herself 'Mistress,' and she was my only mistake. We understood she had some authority and was important so we kidnapped her. We should have checked first. It would have saved a lot of confusion." The group heard her shouting behind the glass. "Nobody can be in two places at once! It's in the rules! Put me back! I've been rescued!" "We couldn't keep her gagged, so we decided to ignore her instead. Matter of fact, we probably shouldn't even be talking about her now." "Hmm. Well, she's right. Someone did a crossover without permission that caused some unrest, and they were retaliated against. And another time we got permission to use someone, but then the other faction forgot and flamed us. Everybody was usually really careful to coordinate with the other groups. Those few problems caused more delays than a broken ListServ." "Then you know what she's talking about? Good. You take her, then. Return her to her rightful place, carefully monitoring everyone's movements and telling them where they should be... " "Not interested." ----------------------------------------------- Horton stood at the front door as the K'immie Brigade filed outside. "Think about my offer. You'd make perfect Hunters. We'll be here, always." The front door opened -- to a normal looking housefront. They looked back inside to the foreboding interior, startled by the incongruity. Horton could only laugh as he led them to the street. CA pointed to a sign that said "Aquarium - two miles". They were virtually back were they started. The group looked towards the back of the house -- and could see quiet cliffs and a calm ocean in the darkness, lit by the cheery glow of some very normal streetlamps. Horton pulled out a remote control in response to their unvoiced question. "This entrance is good... " He pointed at the front of the house. "That one was better." He pointed to the back area. "The difference?" He pushed a button, the lights went out, and the Brigade heard the sounds of screams and waves crashing, along with the forlorn cry of a seagull and the lonely moan of a foghorn. Smoke poured out of a chemical fog maker and sprinklers shot water onto the dried rocks. They saw a series of speakers, emanating the scary sound effects. Horton pressed the button again and the effects ceased. "Showmanship." --------------------------------------------- Rob Distante Joanne Curme "Cloning is the sincerest form of flattery" - anon "Or the worst form of narcissism" - Rob --------------------------------------------- Joanne (jcurme@pyramid.com) K'immie Brigade Leader for the First HL Gathering =========================================================================== Date: Sat, 30 Mar 1996 20:01:19 -0500 From: "Jimmy Murphy @ GA Southern University" Subject: WAR: Unwilling Accomplice? Title: Unwilling Accomplice? Author: Jimmy Murphy When: About 7pm Where: Community General Hospital Jimmy was a lot more angry than he was scared. The crisis with Anne was basically over, with Anne's diagnosis being an allergic reaction. The only thing left was to find out just what she was allergic to! While the doctors did their thing, Jimmy left the hospital through the emergency entrance to get his blood's boiling point a bit lower. Horton might not have been responsible for what happened, but the threat of his ability to do something like that was enough to keep Jimmy steaming. "And he calls _Duncan_ the villain! What a mess!" he said to himself as he rounded the corner to the parking garage. Horton would be a menace to everyone in this town as long as he lurked in the shadows and tried to cause such murder and mayhem...and Jimmy felt powerless to stop it. Seeing Anne lying in that bed had really put the fear of God into him. As he rounded the corner, the object of his thoughts faced him directly. Jimmy stood wide-eyed for a moment, unable to figure out what to do. It was obvious that Horton was 'after him' again, but Jimmy was beyond biting sarcasm by this time....well, almost. "What are you doing here? Haven't you done enough?" Jimmy heard what he had just said, but decided to take it in a different direction. "Haven't you done enough? You poison Anne to get to *me*? She was never a part of this!" Horton never skipped a beat, recognizing that Jimmy was in a bad state. "I told you that I needed your assistance in the MacLeod matter...now are you listening?" Jimmy was willing to listen, even if he was probably making a big mistake. "MacLeod is on the back burner for now. Consider him your reward for after we get a certain parcel from Joe Dawson." "I am not about to hurt Joe. Duncan can go, but Joe is a nice guy." Horton seemed willing to humor Jimmy, telling him that things may not come to "that" anyway; he had a means of getting the Chronicle. "So do I!" Jimmy offered, unable to resist. "Oh, really?" Horton asked. "Yeah, there's a newspaper box on that curb over there. _Chronicle_, _Express_, even _Wall Street Journal_." Okay, so he was not totally whipped. Perhaps he would be later. "You really are one sleazy bastard, you know that?" Jimmy said as he realized the extent of Horton's evil plans for the day. Horton could not have cared less; he was holding people prisoner, shooting, stabbing, suffocating, strangling and bludgeoning his way across the world. And yet he was falling for Jimmy's plan. "I will only agree to this," he told Horton, "if you guarantee me that Anne's poison will be antidoted the minute you get this book of yours." Horton, amused at what he thought was Jimmy's ill-informed alliance, promised whole-heartedly. "The Hunters doesn't just accept anybody, you know," Horton continued. "I see in you *potential*. This little favor for me might seem inconsequential, but when I have that book, we will have the story behind half the immortals in Joe's files! I could groom you to join the organization; after all, we have seen how tiny little actions can inflame large groups in this town." "You said it, tea bag..." Jimmy thought to himself. "What I need from you is to be at Joe's bar later this evening...just be there. Maybe you can drown your sorrows about your precious doctor hanging by a thread." Jimmy rose to pound Horton, but decided not to. From what he'd heard, Horton had a pretty good ventilation system down there and the punch might not land on anything. "I swear..if Anne dies I will have to find some horrible way for you to end up dead." "Many people have tried, my dear young fellow," he countered, "but I just keep coming back." "Like 1970's fashions...." Jimmy said, noticing some visitors leaving the garage. "So, these Hunters..." Jimmy continued, "I assume they pay well?" Horton gave Jimmy a cold look. "We offer an excellent retirement plan." "401k?" Jimmy asked, tweaking ever further. Donna had offered the explanation for Jimmy's sarcasm long ago, although he was not able to confirm or deny it. She said it was called "hyperactive iconoclastic tendencies", a tendency to criticize those he felt had become too self-important or unable to take criticism in the form of satire. These HAIT victims tend to perpetuate their condition by adding on new layers of satire and sarcasm, leaving it difficult to treat effectively. At any rate, Horton's request seemed frighteningly simple: be at Joe's at the given time, and if necessary he would be forced to shoot anyone who stood in Horton's way. "Otherwise," Horton teased, "your goddaughter might be needing you as primary care-giver." =========================================================================== Date: Mon, 1 Apr 1996 18:01:14 -0400 From: Antonia Mandry Subject: War: The Rabbit's Watch Title: The Rabbit's Watch Author: Ma Wombat Where: A long Plothole/then a street When: Infinite; and then just before the Chuck E. Cheese sequences "I'm late, I'm late! For a very important date!!!!" The White Rabbit left a confused Alice standing there and dashed down the hole. Only, without his knowledge, it was not the hole that he had meant to dash down ... but a plothole! The Rabbit looked around quickly, *Where did that noise come from?* A frog's answered him. The Rabbit shook his head quickly and then did a double-take. A bear was there, licking a honey pot. A bouncing tigger, the Rabbit couldn't understand how he had made such a simple spelling mistake. Oh my Lord! thought he, the rabbit, not the Lord, his thoughts were spelling out on the wall. He focused on a section of the wall that was always a little further along then he could see quite clearly. He squinted and made out the words, THIS IS CERTAINLY A STRANGE HOLE. The Rabbit shook his head in wonder, "This is certainly a strange hole" he thought. He looked a little back and saw, WHERE DID THAT NOISE COME FROM? The Rabbit started screaming, Help!!!! This time, the word help appeared in all three places. The Rabbit closed his eyes, hoping that he wouldn't see anything further. Foolish Hare. Pink elephants with tutus around their ... ahem ... waists pranced along the insides of his eyelids. This hole was certainly seemed to have a lot of residents. The Rabbit's nose started quivering in terror and his whiskers vibrated, as he thought, instead of the date I was supposed to attend, I'm here in ****!!!! Unnoticed by him, his watch was spinning back wards. The pink panther grinned at him as the Rabbit zoomed by and kindly held the door open for him. Th-dunk!!! The Rabbit landed out on the pavement. Crrr--aaacckkk. He had fallen on his watch. The Rabbit looked up, afraid to see what he would see ... blink blink blink C*H*U*C*K *E* C*H*E*E*S*E The Rabbit kissed the ground in front of him. not aware that he was entering another kind of place similar to that which he had just been. -------------------------------- The fur flew. Then he fell down another plothole. Just in time for a beheading. The Queen was in the parlour polishing the grate, The King was in the kitchen cleaning up the plate, The Maid was in the garden eating bread and honey listening to the neighbours offer her more money. The Queen of Hearts made some tarts ... Long ago in a galaxy far away, a Corellian slipped on a loose plank in his ship and fell through a plothole ... screaming ... he saw rabbits ... --------------------------------------------- --ok, so admittedly, this is a bit silly, but then, ... well ... yeah.-- Toni Mandry aka Ma Wombat Ma97ad14@acs.wooster.edu =========================================================================== Date: Thu, 4 Apr 1996 01:48:47 -0500 From: Virginia Foster Subject: WAR: Misunderstandings.. Title: Misunderstandings Author: Virginia Foster When: Thursday evening Where: On the way to Joe's Place Connor and Virginia left Duncan and the DFW's and headed back to the car. He had not missed the looks that passed between his chief flag waver and the Immortal Methos. Virginia noticed that Connor was quiet and once they were in they car and on their way to Joe's, she asked him, "Ok, Connor. What is it. What didn't you like about what happened at the warehouse?" He sighed, "Nothing really. It's just that everyone was so hoping to find this Lizbet and Horton. Then for them to be gone." He stopped talking and glanced at Virginia, who was smiling and shaking her head. "What?" he asked. "No, Connor, there is something else. I know you rather well by now. Now tell me, what is wrong." "Methos" "What?" Virginia was confused. Then it dawned on her. She *had* been rather speechless, and Methos was as handsome in person as she had heard. "You're jealous!" she said. "But Connor, come on. How often do I get to meet a 5000 year old legend! Not to mention he's got lots of flag wavers. I'd never stand a chance." "I don't know, he seemed awfully interested in you. He was certainly staring hard enough." By now, they had arrived at Joe's, but Virginia held back from getting out. "Connor, listen to me. I've been attracted to you from the first time I saw you. That's been a long time. I am *not* about to leave you for the next Immortal that comes along. So you can stop that jealous Immortal thing. Let's go in and see everybody, Maybe someone has heard about Lizbet." Connor looked a bit unsure, and was not sure why it bothered him in the first place. But Virginia gave him a quick kiss to reassure him, and they got out of the car and headed into Joe's. --------------------------------------------------- After dinner with all of his flag wavers and an hour or so of great jazz, Connor seemed to have forgotten about the incident between Virginia and Methos. --------------------------------------------------- Virginia Foster ***** vfoster@mindspring.com Flag waver for Connor MacLeod / Christopher Lambert ("Same clan, different vintage" / "Dare to Dream ")