HLFIC-L Gathering Thursday (Part 3 of 3) =========================================================================== Date: Sat, 30 Mar 1996 19:46:20 -0500 From: Kristina Mairi Buhrman Subject: War: The Sting Title: The Sting Author: Enmare Where: Joe's When: Thursday evening In the cheap hotel room Horton got off of the phone. "Excellent, the JFWs have the Methos Chronicle. Now all that I have to do is fetch it." Smiling evilly at Lizbet, he pulled her to her feet and out of the door. --------------- In Joe's various people from various groups were milling around. Jimmy had been trying to figure out the various tax forms the Hunters wanted him to fill out. -That's it- he thought. -This is the last time I'm volunteering to go undercover.- Everything stopped when Horton walked in, dragging in Lizbet. A few of the Immie FWs went for their swords. "Easy now," Horton said, "Or she gets it." Peter also walked out of the shadows and joined the two at the bar, where Joe sullenly served them. "I know the Chronicle is here," Horton said. "Now I just have to wait for my people to deliver it." Mike darted looks at the JFWs around the room. Which of them had it? As Horton finished talking, Enmare walked into the bar, and was stared at by everybody. Various people muttered "I *knew* it was her..." while Lizbet choked. "That's the girl who nearly chattered me to death in the warehouse!" Horton nodded. Enmare sat next to the evil duo at the bar. "You owe me a drink, Horton," she said. Jimmy stood up from his table, glaring. "*You* were the mole all along, Enmare." She just shrugged. "How could you do that?" Horton turned around. "You're one to talk, Jimmy." Jimmy pulled out an ancient book with a Watcher's symbol on it. "If this is what you want, Horton, let Lizbet go." Horton nodded, and let go of Lizbet, who ran off like the devil incarnate had been beside her (as he was). Jimmy pulled a gun out of his coat pocket and aimed it at Enmare. "We shouldn't have trusted you," he said. Mike started towards Jimmy, but realized that he would have drawn attention to himself. Jimmy fired, in the genral direction of Horton, but hit Enmare instead. As she dropped, Enmare pulled out her own gun and fired at Jimmy. Jimmy grimaced and threw the book to Karen. The only sound was Karen running into the back room, then Horton and Horton ran after him. Mike followed after a little hesitation. Karen held the chronicle over a open trapdoor. "I'm not letting you get it, James Horton." Horton laughed. "How are you going to stop me?" Karen took a deep breath and dropped it. Horton dived after it and fell into the hole. Peter jumped in after him, yelling "Wait for me!!!....". Mike began looking around for some rope. Karen walked back into the other room, which was quiet except for a few people who shall remain nameless telling each other that they didn't like Jimmy or Enmare anyway, and good riddance. Suddenly, Lori started clapping, and Enmare stood up, then helped Jimmy to his feet. "See, I told you rehearsing would pay off." "It wasn't *quite* the Sting." Jimmy told her. "No, but it got them off guard enough, I should think." Russ frowned. "Why didn't you *tell* us?" Enmare smiled. "Becuase then you wouldn't look surprised enough. Where's Horton?" Karen grinned evilly. "In the back." A large group tramped around to the back room, where they saw Mike fishing around in the trapdoor with a lifepreserver. Quickly, he was grabbed. "Great, now I need to get a new bartender." Joe muttered. "I loose more employees to the Hunters than any other way." "Do you *really* think that a small hole will keep Horton from doing anything?" Enmare asked. Karen's grin spread wider as she pushed away a crate of hamdingers that obscured the sign. "Bottomless Pit" it read. Enmare dropped a glass into it, and listened for it to hit bottom, but instead only heard a faint, Horton-ish "Ow". Lori turned to Joe. "Do you really think it's safe to have one of this things around the bar, Joe?" Joe smiled. "I'll have it boarded up first thing tomorrow." "There are a few plot holes around here too," Jill pointed out. Mike stuggled against the people holding him. "And we would have gotten away with it too." "Did you *really* drop the Methos Chronicle in there," someone asked. "Nope," Karen said, "Just... a decoy." "Are you going to tell Duncan?" Enmare whispered to Lori. "No. Are you?" Lori asked Russ. "No way. Not me." "I'll tell him." Karen chuckled wickedly. The group piled out of the room, dragging Mike with them. "Oh, here's some evidence I managed to pick up, if you need it." Enmare handed Joe a thick manilla folder stuffed with pictures and tax forms. "I'll let you decide what to do with them. But I'll be going." "Why don't you stay a little longer?" Lori asked. Enmare smiled. "Tomorrow's Friday. Wars are all well and good, but I'm not missing _Homicide_ for anything. I'll see you later!", and she walked out of the bar. Faintly, the sounds of the George Baker selection, "Little Green Bag" could be heard. -Does she go anywhere without that walkman?- Lori aksed herself. =========================================================================== Date: Sun, 31 Mar 1996 10:35:12 -0800 From: Joanne Curme Subject: WAR: The Restaurant at the End of the Universe, Title: The Restaurant at the End of the Universe Author: Joanne Curme Rob Distante When: Night Where: Joe's Reason: Because now that the K'immies have you all in one place, at one time, we can... whoops! nevermind. :-} honest! "The History of every major Galactic Civilization tends to pass through three distinct and recognizable phases, those of Survival, Inquiry, and Sophistication, otherwise known as the How, Why, and Where phases. For instance, the first is characterized by the question ' How can we eat? ' the second by the question ' Why do we eat? ' and the third by the question ' Where shall we have lunch? ' " -- The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy Everybody -- and I mean *everybody* -- was at Joe's that night. The war had only been going on for four days, but it felt like fourteen. People were tired and glad to have a night off to just sit and relax. The band played jazz. "Hey, do you know any blues?" an overconfident voice called from the audience. "We just *asked* them that!" an old, grizzled voice shouted back. "Don't you read your list history?" A pink, fuzzy, mewling critter stood up. "I'm new here and I'm proud of it!" Several other fuzzy, mewling critters joined the first. One had skin most *definitely* not pink. They began shouting defiantly at the other group. " *I* saw something in last night's first season reruns that I'm sure none of you have ever noticed before!" Chocolate chips were hurled from one table to the other; somewhere, in the distance, a cannon rumbled. Or maybe it was a canon - it was so hard to tell sometimes. Scratching behind his still-wet ears, a newbie spotted a handbook on the floor. It was entitled "Abbreviations and Animals on the List: A Compleat Guide." The book was opened to a page showing something with a pointy nose and long, bushy tail; the newbie had never seen anything like it. Kinda cute - but was it dangerous to pet? The book lay enticingly in a little clearing between two tables, near a group in faded List T-shirts trying to look inconspicuous. He was fixated on the book, and couldn't hear the chortles of anticipation as he approached. They prepared to pounce on the unsuspecting newbie... Suddenly a figure in a nurse's uniform stood up, glasses of milk in one hand, a plate of cookies in the other. "Now, now," she murmured as she made her way through the carnage to the older listees' table. She set the milk and cookies in front of them and spoke something softly into a tattered, battle-scarred ear. Nobody could hear what she said, but a few moments later the ear (and the person it belonged to) snatched a cookie and sat down with a harrumph. "Uppity newbies." The nurse smiled gently and went to the other table, where the cries of the fuzzy little critters had quieted down to soft mewls. "Here, you'll need these," she said, handing them a can of Weasel-B-Gone and a huge tome that looked like some kind of mathematical reference. The critters looked up at her in confusion as she smiled again and returned to her table. --------------------------------------------------- Up at the bar, Rob and Joanne were talking to Joe. "I read a couple of his posts, but never really got to talk to him," Joanne said. "Same here," Rob agreed, "but I heard him mentioned a lot even when he wasn't active anymore. He'll live on and be remembered, in a kind of virtual immortality." Joe sighed and shook his head, and the three of them raised a glass of Glenmorangie to a fellow listee who had gone on to The Great Holy Ground in the Sky. --------------------------------------------------- They turned as Methos walked in with a large group of short women. "Dave!" the older listees called, eliciting both nasty and confused glances from the mostly pink, fuzzy critters. He went over to greet them as Rob and Joanne sat down at a tiny table. Rob carefully ignored Methos' wave and friendly 'hello'. He shuddered inwardly; only Joanne saw him do it, and felt real concern for her friend. "We don't know the whole story, Rob. Maybe... maybe he had a reason? I mean, he's been alive 5000 years. A lot can happen. Maybe this was more... acceptable... where he came from, or at the time he was born." Rob had a hard time believing that; Joanne didn't believe it herself, and stopped trying to talk about it. Instead, they sat and listened as Joe started a quiet set on stage. --------------------------------------------------- An hour passed, maybe two. They were just sitting there enjoying the music, trying to forget about what they'd learned that morning about Methos. "So, how about that dinner I promised you this morning?" Rob tried to joke. "A place without a drive-up window?" "I don't feel much like going out anymore. Let's just get something here." They were looking over the menu when suddenly Horton -- no, *Hortons* -- burst through the door holding somebody hostage. One of the Hortons was demanding the Chronicle. Then... shots rang out. Jimmy and a woman fell to the floor, and the Hortons ran into the back room. Rob and Joanne looked at each other. "Maybe we should go out after all." But then Jimmy and the other woman -- Enmare, somebody said -- stood up. What was this? They were laughing... it had all been an act. The crowd of people who had run into the back room came out with relieved expressions on their faces. "The war's over," they overheard people saying. "It's a bottomless pit." "They're gone for good." Somebody called for a round of drinks on the house, and Joe glared at him. "If only they knew what we knew," Joanne said in a low voice to Rob. "It ain't over till it's over, and it's *definitely* not over yet." "They'll find out soon enough. Give them their small victory." Rob closed his menu. "I'm ready to order. You ready?" "Sure." Rob stood up, looked expressionlessly at the crowd, and went to talk to the waitress. --------------------------------------------------- Kenny had had enough. Scrubbed shiny and clean, he had sworn vengeance on the entire war party. He waited behind the dumpster (*very* carefully) by the back door to the kitchen until all of Joe's cooks were busy in one corner, then he darted in... He grabbed some cans of oven cleaner from under the sink. he thought as he put the pressurized cans in the microwave and set the timer. --------------------------------------------------- An explosion ripped through the kitchen, nearly masking the sound of Kenny's maniacal laughter. --------------------------------------------------- Clouds of noxious gas billowed from Joe's kitchen as the cooks rushed into the alley, waving the fumes away from their tearing eyes and coughing profusely. "It's OK, boss -- there's no fire --" the lead cook gasped, "but the kitchen's out of commission for the rest of the night. It'll take hours to clean it all up." His assistant helped him over to a crate where he sat, wheezing and wiping the tears out of his eyes. --------------------------------------------------- Joe surveyed his kitchen from the bar. The paramedics had just arrived and confirmed the cooks were suffering from nothing that a few minutes in the fresh night air wouldn't cure. The kitchen had a film of Mr. Clean over every surface, but that would all come off; he'd only lost an old microwave oven he had wanted to replace anyway. He'd pay the staff overtime to fix the kitchen up tonight, and everything would be back to normal by tomorrow afternoon. He turned to Rob. "Sorry, dinner's off." "Unless you like your food really well done, and cooked really fast", Rob muttered to Joanne. To Joe: "Well, are there any good restaurants in the area? Something within walking distance?" Joe shrugged. "Sure. There's a great restaurant a couple blocks away. Adrian's, I think it's called. Best British-Italian food in the colonies." --------------------------------------------------- Joanne wasn't exactly pleased. "Rob, have you ever *tasted* English food? And Italian-British? What a bizarre combination. It would never work. They don't even put ice in their drinks. Now, for *soccer*, it's a good combination. But cooking? I don't think so." Rob sighed. "C'mon, it's pretty close to here. Who knows? You might be pleasantly surprised. It'll be different - Bangers Marinara, Shepherd's Pasta, warm wine served in pint glasses?" He smiled. "Might even be good." Joanne grimaced as she stood up and got her coat. "I hope so. The alternative is unthinkable." On their way out the door, Rob and Joanne stopped by the tables to say their farewells. But war has a way of working up peoples' appetites; it's said an army travels on its stomach, and this army hadn't had a good meal in days. By the time they made it to the sidewalk outside Joe's, a good crowd of people had decided to go with them. Following Joe's directions, they started off. Joanne looked back at the group, exasperated. It was easy to pick out the newbies, sprawled on the pavement, wondering why the old curmudgeons were glaring at them. "Stand up, people! Travelling on your stomach is just an expression!" Rob yelled. He threw a handful of change towards the group. Amazing how the nickels rolling at their feet in reality went right over their heads. "Here's a nickel - buy a clue?" a newbie murmurred hopefully. A battle-scarred hand patted him - just a little too hard, perhaps - on the back. "Walk this way!" Rob beckoned. As one, the elder listees dropped a shoulder and began limping forward. The newbies joined in after a moment or two, hoping they were doing it - whatever *it* was - right. --------------------------------------------------- Marching a group of hungry, high-spirited flag wavers through the streets of Seacouver was not easy, but thanks to the wombats' natural herding instinct, everyone arrived safely, with only maybe a nipped ankle or two to mark the ones that had strayed from the main flock. The group had stopped in front of the restaurant by the time Rob managed to push his way through the throng, and by the look on everyone's face, he didn't have to read the sign on the door to know what had happened. +------------------------------------------------------------------------+ Under new management. Closed for major remodeling. Will open in 2 months. We appreciate your patronage. Thanks - The Happy Hunter +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+ Joe had elbowed his way to the door by this time. The crowd was turning ugly, or maybe it was just the glow from the fluorescent orange street lamps. The trio knew they had to think fast. As Joe turned to say something -- anything -- to the group, Rob put a hand on his arm and pointed across the street. Joe smiled with relief. "It's all right, everybody. Don't worry, dinner's coming. Now you won't have to eat British food!" The crowd laughed, and Joe knew they were getting controllable again. Bracing himself for the inevitable retributions that came with dissing a nationality's food, even English food, Joe tried to make the best of what Providence had provided. "Let's all just turn around and go across the street!" The group cheered once more and turned around en masse. Joe thought as the crowd moved across the street and started filing into the restaurant, <*and* a little tipsy, *and* very hungry>. High overhead, the sign blinked a happy 'hello' to its newest customers. * C * H * U * C * K * *E* * C * H * E * E * S * E * --------------------------------------------------- Joanne Curme Rob Distante =========================================================================== Date: Sun, 31 Mar 1996 11:08:43 -0800 From: Joanne Curme Subject: WAR: Git Along Li'l Wombat Title: Git Along Li'l Wombat Author: Doc Anvil Where: Streets of Seacouver When: Night "Hehehehehe. English food really SUCKS!" Gaven said. It's a little known fact that we wombats do *great* Beavis and Butthead impersonations. "Shut up, Gaven," I said with a lisp, "or I'll kick your ass." "Sure you will, weasel-munch. Hehehe." Even Rose joined in. "Ahhh, like.... He said *weasel*." We were patrolling the streets, playing shepherd to the whole damned throng of people from every faction, being led from Joe's to some English barmaid hoidy-toidy restuarant thing. And we were po'd, cause wombats are rarely invited into hoidy-toidy restuarant things. Still, it was an opportunity to nip a little leg. Rose pulled cowboy hats out of her katana space and we all jumped onto the backs of ferrets, using the spurs sparingly because, after all, they were ferrets and not weasels. "Get aloooong, little doogie!" I yelled, cracking my whip at the ankle of one of those Methos FW's. `course, even on the ferret's back, I had to reach *down* to crack her ankle. Is there a height ceiling for MFW's? Then I saw the Amazon babe, and I realized there was just a *cumulative* height requirement. Course, I also realized that with legs that long, and red hair and leather thrown in as a bonus, I was in love, but that's another story altogether. I rode close to Rachel, actually, cause even though the wench had eated all my cadbury eggs, she had let me crash on her bed after the Pepsi and Rum overload, and she hadn't told anybody about my sorrowful behavior (well, aside from posting it to a list with over a thousand readers, but hey, who's counting?) and, most of all, she *had* said I was kinda cute. And with Amanda off tongue dueling with Dunkie now, who knew what could happen? After all, we *were* both Steelers fans. I had called the Wombat pilot to have him fly to Pittsburgh and fetch me a case of Iron City lite as a love offering, and we'd see where that went. But I digress. I don't mind telling you that there was much singing and rejoicing in the wombat camp when it was announced that the hoidy-toidy place was closed. It was I, actually, who hopped up onto Joe's shoulder and whispered in his ear about the fine establishment behind him. Then the announcement was made and we wombats pranced our ferrets in circles, firing our six shooters into the air and hollering typically cliche stuff like, "yippie ki-yi-yay!". "Stand aside, folks," I said as we stepped through the doors of Mecca and I morphed back human. "You are now in wombat heaven and will observe proper decorum. Hey, hostess!" I bellowed. "Table here, huh? And don't be skimpy with those tokens, little lady. You're looking at the weasel-whacking champeeeeen of the whole US of A." "Ah, Anvil?" Rose said, leaning over to whisper in my ear, "the game is `whack a *mole*." "Hey, you whack who you wanna whack, and I'll whack who *I* wanna whack, okay, sister?" Kathleen quickly left our group, making a beeline for the soda dispenser. I made a mental note to check on her later. --------------------------------------------------- Doc Anvil and it ain't over =========================================================================== Date: Sun, 31 Mar 1996 19:16:55 +4000 From: Joanne Curme Subject: WAR: Life After Kenny Title: Life after Kenny Author: Ma Wombat with a bit of help from Doc Where: Ma's secret sleepquarters, Joe's, a street, and then Chuckie's When: Thursday Evening and Night Hmmm. Ma was depressed. After her little adventures, she tried to get some sleep, but then got a call from Doc. "Doc?" she queried. The background noise from wherever Doc was calling from was hideous ... it sounded like a riot. And, actually, it sounded like one of the places she had recently been. "Hey, Ma!" the wombat shouted. Ma had a suspicion he was slightly tipsy. It seemed like for most of the war the wombat brigade had been mostly drunk. A poor showing for the furry creatures. "Yes," Ma responded quietly, trying to keep her head from falling off. She wasn't exactly sober yet, either. Post-Kenny depression and all. "We're having a party at Joe's. Come on over ...!!" Ma pondered, the wombats did need a pick-me up after all the depressing things that had been going on. "Ok," she responded, waving her non-existant tail in anticipation. "I just need to make a few phone calls first." "Great," Doc replied after a loud belch. Then the phone clattered to the ground. Ma quickly hung up, not wanting to hear what she thought she had heard. The blues. Erg. Out of the fog, they came. Hatted, trenchcoated, ominous looking, they seemed similar to the Kimmies in stance and swagger (which was, of course, why Mother loved them so). Cat, Sondre, and Zeke. Ma frowned, "Where's Guppy?" Sondre shook his head in despondence. He was so choked up he couldn't respond. Cat piped up, "He couldn't make it. Commitments to his UPS delivery business." Zeke: It's a shame really. No one could quite converse like he did. Ma: I didn't know you two were so close. Zeke: I'm sure you had your reasons but still ... Ma: Huh? Cat: Don't mind him. He's been giving us the silent treatment ever since we left him alone in that alleyway yesterday morning. He has, however, been discoursing regularly with God. Sondre: In fact, he won't shut up. At that moment, the damn yellow duck showed up again. Sondre started whimpering: It won't go away!!! Cat took him by the arm and said, "Don't worry. Embrace your fears. They won't terrify you so, then." Ma took Cat aside, "Will that really work?" Cat responded, "How would I know? I'm just trying to get him to shut up about the whole duck business." Sondre embraced the duck and then emerged from its fuzzy feathers a moment later. A couple of yellow feathers poofed out of his mouth as he tried to say, "His name is Edgar!!" He sounded delighted. Ma rolled her eyes at Cat and the two women dragged the respective men with them to Joe's. When they got there, Joe's was packed. Too much was going on to describe, and anyway, Ma had coordinated with Doc so he would have to do some of the work. Hmph. When they got there, the Trenchcoat Brigade kindly started annoying the bluesy guy trying to play while Ma and Doc commiserated. Ma, getting over Kenny, Doc, getting over Amanda, both wombats were in foul moods. Until, of course, they found out they had a job to do. Herding Immie's and the like out of the shut-down bar (what *was* the problem again?) to some silly hoidy-toidy place. Ma was in a snit because of that. Doc shook his head in wonder. Ma looked amusedly at Doc's herding techniques. He was soooo old-fasioned. Ma used her up-to-date modern technological wonder (a cattled prod; no relation to a cattle prod) to herd the silly weasel back into line (tried to break out, the simpering little thing). And then it had the audacity to try to sue her (no, we won't get into that). Suffice it to say that Ma took care of that little rodents uppitness mite quick. Zap! Through a series of misadventures, nipping, nibbling and the occasional swig from the Coke bottle, they made it instead to Chuck E. Cheese. Testing, testing, one, two, three ... Damn I hate these things. James Bond never had these prob ... oh, it's working, you say? Oh. Ahem. Doc speaking. Nowhere is there better opportunity for mischief than at Chuck E. Cheese. We sent a squad into the kitchen to put all the bad stuff (extra cheese, alfredo cardiac sauce, anchovies) into the DFW's calzones - uppity bunch, insisting on making their own food. *And* putting it into the oven. Good thing we brought our asbestos undies (see, Danny's good for *some* things), or else the sabotage might not have happened. In case Richie showed up we sprinkled a couple with baby formula and lollypops and set them aside. Someday, when he grows up, we'll do adult pranks on him. And for Methos.... well, I'd kinda grown fond of the old guy. So all we did was write "Alexa is a wench" in heiroglyphics with his pepperoni slices. As we left the kitchen, we saw Kathleen, still on the Pepsi machine, but she'd taken straws and cups and rigged herself a Pepsi Bong. And she was just about all the way gone. You could even see those little cartoon bubbles floating around her head. They said things like, "Mom told me never to eat strangers" and " Why can't I be like a fish?" "A Rose by any other name would still smell like wet fur". Rose squeaked in indignation. We wouldn't have known anything was wrong except that her balloons started saying, "Burp. Hiccup. Ha Ha." Kathleen never went in for one word where three would do. The rest of the wombat platoon rushed to her side. "Pupils fixed and dilated," Ma said, shining a light in her eyes. "BP 200/150, pulse 156 and bounding," Rose reported. "Abdomen distended and tympanic," Gaven said. "My God," I whispered. "Pepsi OD. Ma, give her a 100cc bolus of 7UP, IV push. Gaven, find a safety pin." "A safety pin?" "Yeah, we're gonna have to relieve some of the carbonation pressure in her stomach." "I'm outta here!" He went screaming off. Last time that had happened, the carbonation had blown him to Kalamazoo. "Dammit, do I have to do everything myself?" Rose offered me a bobby pin. Close enough. Kathleen wasn't feeling pain at this point anyway. "Clear!" I yelled. Everyone jumped back. It took three tries, but I finally pierced her fur. The others jumped back in to help hold her down so she didn't fly away. That done, I pulled out my cellphone and hit the quickdial for the number I had programmed long ago. Wombats have this weakness, you know. "De-Pepsi clinic of Phoenix," the voice on the line said. "I need to check in a patient for re-hab. You're the clinic that has the open account with Wombats International, right?" "You've got the right one, baby," she said. "Good. One for pickup." As soon as I hung up, two white clad men ran in the door, grabbed Kathleen, dropped her on their stretcher and were gone. "Glad that's done." After Kathleen's bout with Pepsiholicism, we tried to relax. Ma was in a nasty mood, mainly because we'd let Kathleen get so far gone, but other reasons as well. Best not mentioned. She was still somewhat ashamed that she had been so susceptible (not to mention that it hadn't even been a good-lookin' Kimmie who had looked her own age-yech). It was going half-way normal again, when the weasels started taking over. The one thing we wombats had always hated about Chuck E Cheese were those weasel-looking creatures on the stage. So after we'd harrassed Chuck, all taking turns wearing his tail, we snuck backstage to commence to eating those guys. Even Ma joined in, though you could tell her heart wasn't in it. She was gnawing rather lightly. Her weasel was actually bored and taking a nap. The gnawing was kinda hard on the teeth, but satisfying, none the less. Not as good as the breadsticks with ranch dressing, mind you... The ferrets were now banging on the instruments. Most left when I walked on. Except the one at the piano. I snuck up behind him. "ooh, nice hands you've got there," I said. He held them up. "Why thank you." The Beretta barked twice, and two gloppy honey cartridges exploded on the hands. Then I tossed cotton balls on them. "AHHH! my hands! My hands!!" He took off running. And I stepped into his place. I stood before the bench, made a show of tossing my newly-acquired tail (in Chuck E. gray) behind me, and took a seat. Rose brought me a pair of dark sunglasses, a cigarette and a drink (had to look the part, after all). Rose was lookin' *really* good ... in that slinky dress she had donned. 'Course it looked kinda strange, over the dumpy figure a wombat has, but hey, who was I to complain? Of course, the minute I thought that she morphed. Whoa, good thing Ma wasn't lookin', she woulda been so p.o.ed. Rachel was wandering around looking kinda confused at all the furry animals around, but, you know, nobody was paying attention to all the weird things. After all, people were just here to party!!!!! The band was really jammin', so I'll let Ma tell what happened next. Ma here. Well, I don't know *what* Doc (cute, real cute) thought he was playin' but it wasn't music. It was sorta jazzy (which I like), but this stuff, too depressing. Anyway, Gavin wanted to talk to me. He was really depressed, because his Immie had never really shown up (or Gavin hadn't been able to find him) and he felt that he had failed. "Gavin, sweetheart, " I said, "You can't blame yourself. And, anyway, he was on of those MacLeod's and they are horribly hard to keep track of when they don't want to be found. Usually we can only track them by reports of the unusual high number of beheadings in one area. And *then* we have to figure out __which__ MacLeod it is." I paused, trying to block out the music, "I'm actually thinking of disbanding the wombats for the MacLeods. They are such a nuisance." Doc paused in his playing and spoke into the microphone," And this one's for all the MacLeods, despite their tendency to go melancholy on us every 100 years and forget to protect themselves. Thanks for all the extra work!!" Damn his sensitive ears. "Ok maybe not, " I said to Gavin. I sent him off to get lousy drunk with Rose, who he had a crush on anyway (I think, though, she has a thing for Doc--everybody has either a thing *for* or is the recipient of a thing from Doc). I was starting to relax when I noticed something inconceivable. Zeke, a member of the Trenchcoat brigade, putting the moves on one of my wombats!!!! I rushed over to prevent an unfortunate occurence and then stopped laughing. Comet morphed into human form (I don't know how Zeke can spot a female in 'bat form, he's got a sensor or something) and towered. Then she poured a Mai Tai over his head. I rushed over to Comet. "What did he say?" I asked breathless with laughter at the sight of Zeke and his soggy hat, resplendent with soggy flower draped over an ear. Comet, back in 'bat form where she felt most comfortable, replied, "He wanted to pull my ears and try on my fur. Then he asked me if I had met God yet. I *hate* people who want to convert me!!" I hid a smile, "Ah, Comet. Actually, he meant that quite literally. He has these conversations ... oh, never mind." I took her elbow and led her over to the drinks bar (we had erected one, heh heh heh). What then started was a smashing session ... of glasses and weasels. --------------------------------------------------- Toni M. = CFW for Kinman,Cord & Methos' Sword/FW for Kalas/Vaquera with pretensions to Cousinhood/Skinner fan/Chief Wombat (no tails!)/Dueser (Dief devotee)/Kermit lover/Trekkie /"I drank what?!" (courtesy of my Cat) the Cat speaks? The chinchilla types!? MA97AD14@acs.wooster.edu =========================================================================== Date: Sun, 31 Mar 1996 14:32:46 -0500 From: "Landon C. Darkwood" Subject: WAR: Entrance or Comedy...you decide Title: Entrance or Comedy... You Decide Author: Landon Darkwood Place: Chuckee Cheese's Pizza Time: Night Reason: I gotta get me in one of these.... Okay, yeah, so it wasn't the most high-class of joints to be in at that time of the evening. At least, Landon Darkwood thought as he sipped on a Coke, it beat a lot of other places to hide out. What Immie would be scoping out kids' restaurants in the middle of the evening just to get a head? The lights and noise from the arcade were starting to become rather annoying. He had arrived in Seacouver two days before, after a situational run-in with some Hunters in Helena, Montana, and already he could see why he had been warned not to come. Besides the wombat overpopulation problem, there were several strange things going on in the city that he really didn't understand. First of all, he'd get massive Buzzes after travelling through residential areas of town, and then find no Immortals, as if everyone around seemed to consider him an unworthy target. This coupled with his inability to track down certain Immies he had come to see made his stay both frustrating and annoying...just like those damned kids playing video games about three meters to his right. Landon stood, all six feet of him. Some kid running by ran into his leg, and looked up into his face, marked by the unusual combination of brown hair in a long flat-top and piercing blue eyes. The trenchcoat, black leather with a collar that reached an inch above his head and obscured his face from the sides and rear, only served to add a Gothic accent to his black shirt, slacks, and combat boots. The kid was scared, even though Landon had tried not to look menacing. Before he could say a word, the kid had taken off and was running back towards his mother. An explosion sounded in the distance. Landon jerked his head toward the stacatto report. << No flames visible, >> he thought as he moved toward a window. << Hmmm..dreary evening. I wonder what.... >> It was then that he got Buzzed. Reaching reflexively for his weapon, he remembered where he was and decided to forego any obvious display of violent intent. While looking for a way to conceal his hand unnoticeably, the noise of a crowd muttering suddenly washed into his range of hearing. "What the hell?" Landon looked up to see the biggest collection of...things one would ever want to lay eyes on. Some animals, some people, perhaps an Immie or two, considering that the Buzz was still going off in the back of Landon's head, all of them headed straight into the pizza place. "Landon, you're never coming to this town again," said Darkwood to himself, and he walked back toward the back and snuck out before things could get any more complicated. Besides, if he had stayed, he would have had to smash some of those video games...and, now that you think about it, maybe some of those kids too.... --------------------------------------------------- Landon C. Darkwood, born 9/7/1864 "There can be only ME...." =========================================================================== Date: Sun, 31 Mar 1996 19:08:48 -0500 From: Karen Droms Subject: WAR: I Don't *Think* So! Title: I Don't *Think* So Author: Karen Droms When: Evening Where: Chuck E. Cheese "How the hell did we get here?" Karen looked at her surroundings and was dismayed to see little children running around unsupervised along with demonic, mechanized animals and huge rats. Wherever they were, she knew it wasn't the JFWs' idea. Lori was equally ill at ease. "Makes me think I'm having an LSD flashback or at least watching 'The Princess Bride' for the bazillionth time)...." She looked around for Joe. He seemed to be in some sort of stupor, being led around by various faction leaders without the JFWs' permission. This wasn't the first time it had happened in this war, and she wasn't going to let them get away with it now. "C'mon!" She took Karen by the elbow and they worked their way through the crowd to their favorite blues man. "This is serious, Lori. Look, the twinkle has gone out of his eyes!" "You're right, Karen. There's only one way to get him back now. Are you ready?" "Anything it takes!" Lori stood in front of Joe, while Karen distracted the faction leader who had led him there. Lori touched the side of Joe's face, gently stroking his beard, and then reached up to kiss him. At first, there was no response, and Lori thought all was lost. Then she heard Karen struggling in the background with the other faction leaders, so she redoubled her efforts. "Mmmmmm...." Finally a response! Joe's lips parted and his arm slipped around Lori's waist. The kiss deepened, and Lori knew Joe was himself again. Reluctantly, she drew apart from him, and explained, "Another faction brought you here under some sort of spell! We have to get out of here!" Joe looked around, and said "I could do with some pizza..." At that moment, Karen turned around to face him and said, "No, you don't! We still have this to deal with!" and pulled the neck of her shirt down and to the side to reveal the Chronicle tucked in her ample bra. Joe stared for a moment, and then started to grin. Looking down, Karen realized what had caught his attention. "The Chronicle, you idiot, not *that*!" Rearranging her clothes, she grabbed his arm while Lori cleared a way for their exit... --------------------------------------------------- Karen Droms KDroms@luzerne.edu PSEB PRO, HeLLLion http://www.luzerne.edu =========================================================================== Date: Sun, 31 Mar 1996 17:10:23 +4000 From: Joanne Curme Subject: WAR: I Know It's Been Hectic, But Really... Title: I Know It's Been Hectic, But Really... Author: Joanne Curme and Rob Distante When: Thursday Night Where: West Seacouver Chuck E. Cheese Rob and Joanne looked up as Joe Dawson, heading toward a table with a basket of curly fries and a beer, was suddenly ruthlessly accosted by a couple of women. He almost got away, but then one of them ripped open her blouse and -- -- Joe faltered for a moment. That was his big mistake. They grabbed him and propelled him out of the fine dining establishment that was Chuck E. Cheese. "Told you we should have let Kenny just trash the place. We didn't even let him start a fire," Rob said in disgust. "They had our preliminary, and agreed to it as long as we didn't mess up Joe's Bar too much. They even gave us the caveat that Joe would only do some songs here if the mechanical band blew up," Joanne said, tracing question marks in the rings left by her soda glass. "So now that's all set up and Joe won't be here. Sheesh, where did they *think* he was going to be?" "Well, the War's been hectic, and they probably forgot. I mean really, trying to flame us for something they approved of?" Rob looked at the chaotic scene. "Well, they'll miss the Finale, then. They think it's over. Hah. And this'll be one scene any Watcher'd give his eyeteeth to observe." Rob grinned evilly. "I guess Joe had the doorway to Hell installed in his place for a reason, huh? Maybe to escape certain overprotective..." Joanne shushed him. "Play nice!" --------------------------------------------------- two anonymous K'immies =========================================================================== Date: Sun, 31 Mar 1996 19:21:29 -0500 From: Karen Droms Subject: WAR: Tying Up Loose Ends Title: Tying Up Loose Ends Author: Karen Droms When: Evening Where: Joe's House The remaining Joe Flag Wavers were gathered around the dining room table at Joe's house. They were discussing the events of the day while enjoying the last of the meal Karen had cooked (Anne's allergic reaction had been to the nutmeg in Karen's biscuits that morning--this time checking the spice list with all present). "So," Joe said after swallowing a bite of key lime pie, "just what *did* you throw down that hole. Why did you have to tell Duncan?" Karen looked over at Lori who was suddenly interested in something on her plate and then at Enmare who was studying the bottom of her tea cup. "Well... Lori and I were here with some time to kill ... and ... ummm ... I showed her a couple of things you had in your Watcher memoribilia. When we realized how important the Chronicle was, we ... uh ... decided to make up a decoy. We found something that was about the same size and just as well-used, so we used that Watcher sumbol stamp you have and stuck the symbol on front... Hey, it isn't like Duncan needed it any more!" "Duncan... you mean you used..." Joe looked like he didn't know whether to yell at her or to laugh. At least he had plenty more to spare out there. "Did you at least check to see if there was anything interesting in it?" "Oh no, it was really rather dull. We figured you'd never miss it!" "As long as you didn't touch anything else..." Finishing the last of his pie, Joe pushed back from the table. He retrieved his cane from the floor next to him, and stood up, taking his desrt dishes with him. "Well ladies, this was delightful, as usual. I'm going to put these in the sink, and then go get a sweater. It's a little cool in here, and I still need to talk to you about what your friend found in the Chronicle." Karen and Lori looked at each other as Joe headed back to his bedroom. Remembering the other little time killer they had indulged in that afternoon, they ran after him. "Uh...Joe?!?!" --------------------------------------------------- Meanwhile, down in Hell... The Horton's were walking along in the netherworld, when Peter realized he had somethig stuck to his shoe. "Hey, what's this!?" He bent down and picked up a small tattered book with a Watcher symbol imprinted on the front. "That's the Chronicle! Those fools! Did they think sending me back to Hell would stop me now that I have the Chronicle?!?! MWAHAHAHAHAHA!" Horton waved the book over his head, thinking he had finally gotten what he wanted. He paused to leaf through the book. "NOOOOOOOO!!!!" Horton started tearing pages out of the book, crumbling them and throwing them all around him as he ran down the hall. His brother stooped over to pick up one of the pages that floated down. He patted out a few singed stops and read the words, "Rather bland, boring with a hang-up about some chick named Mary Poppins..." --------------------------------------------------- Karen Droms KDroms@luzerne.edu PSEB PRO, HeLLLion http://www.luzerne.edu =========================================================================== Date: Tue, 2 Apr 1996 21:51:37 -0500 From: Karen Droms Subject: WAR: Out of Harm's Way Title: Out of Harm's Way Author: Karen Droms When: Evening Where: Joe's House After Lori and Karen explained what happened to Joe's sweaters, Enmare and the others left to keep an eye on the events at the restaurant. The remaining two women sat on the couch while Joe cleared the dinner dishes. "So, do you think it's over?" Karen sipped her bourbon and leaned back in her corner of the couch. "I get this feeling someone still has some tricks up their sleeves," Lori replied. "I won't be happy until we get this some place safe." Lori picked up the Chronicle and started paging through it. "After all, we found it, we took care of Horton, but I'm sure someone will find a way to keep this going." "We have to keep him safe, too." Karen gestured towards the man in the kitchen. "You know, there was a time when I never thought I'd say that." "So, just what went on between you two?" Lori looked at Karen as she put the Chronicle back on the low table. "I gather you were close and then... "And then we weren't." Karen smiled. "We're just good friends now, water under the bridge and all that. I mean, there's still an attraction there...who can resist that twinkle in his eye? But the timing isn't right, we've both moved on." "But if he asked...?" "I came to Seacouver, didn't I? So how about you two?" "Yea, that twinkle does something for me to, but we just met so there's really nothing...yet. But I could stand having that voice whisper sweet nothings in my ear! You know, he might not be classically handsome or have the physique of some of the others, but there's something to be said for a face with character." They went on to compare what they found intriguing about the blues man (but we'll omit it here in order to keep this PG-13). After several minutes, Joe came back into the living room to find the two women deep in conversation and laughter. "You women finding something in common?" They looked at each other and in unison, replied, "Oh yea!" Joe looked at the two in confusion; obviously he was missing something there. He sat in a chair across from there couch, and picked up the Chronicle. "So, what are we going to do about this?" "We were wondering the same thing." Karen frowned, and asked, "Joe, do you know a safe place for the Chronicle? Someplace where it won't fall into the hands of the Hunters? Are the Watchers ready for what it says?" "I don't know." Joe paged through the book that had caused so much trouble, and then looked up at the two women. "I know someone who might be able to help, but it means we need to take a trip. Have you to been to New York lately?" "That's just a couple of hours away from where I live, but I'd love to go. Lori? "Just as long as you don't expect all of us to share one room...although that might have it's possibilities." Lori looked at Karen and winked, who in turn couldn't suppress the grin that wink brought to her face. Joe suddenly realized what was happening. He wasn't quite sure what to do, but he was rather enjoying this. This was a situation in which he had never been, two women wanting him at the same time, Joe Dawson, mild-mannered Watcher who had never had a love interest last past the first commercial break before. Well, whatever happened, it would make a great song! True, at the moment, he didn't have a single idea how he was going to resolve this but it was certainly going to be fun trying! ;) (Joe, Karen, and Lori hop the next plane to New York and out of the War with the Chronicle safely in hand.) --------------------------------------------------- Karen Droms KDroms@luzerne.edu PSEB PRO, HeLLLion http://www.luzerne.edu =========================================================================== Date: Sun, 31 Mar 1996 18:01:31 +4000 From: Joanne Curme Subject: WAR: The Beginning of the End For those who like this sort of thing, this is the sort of thing they like. -- Abraham Lincoln Title: The Beginning of the End Author: Joanne Curme and Rob Distante When: Evening Where: West Seacouver Chuck E. Cheese Inside the restaurant, the various factions were waiting to order. The DFWs were poring over the menu on the wall, trying to find anything except pizza to eat. The Methos faction couldn't agree on Ancient Greek or Classic Italian. Heated arguments (with evidence) were given for both possibilities, and finally Reverend Douglass had to step in with her whip to quell the vicious infighting. Methos, characteristically, had made no comment but just smiled enigmatically, and soon left the line to chat with a waitress at the drinks counter, to the great annoyance of his so-called followers. Meanwhile, the wombats had caught sight of Chuck E. himself walking around the tables. They stared at the costumed character in revulsion. "It's just not right," Comet whispered to Randy. "I agree," he replied, still staring. "We've got to do something." They began to whisper urgently among themselves. "It's seems intelligent... but it has a tail!" Soon people were sitting at tables or milling around the games. A small stampede began when someone shouted "Hey - It's the Highlander Game!". Parents grabbed their kids in alarm as the game was rushed, though the omnipresent young teens at the arcade section looked at the game with scorn. "Eeewwwww, it's Quinten!" soon came a disappointed cry, and the teens laughed amongst themselves. --------------------------------------------------- "What do you mean, you can't make calzone? You just put the sauce in the middle and fold the dough in half! *Everybody* does it now!" Sandy's voice was reaching a fevered pitch at the order counter. "If I have to eat one more pizza this week I'm going to s-c-r-e-a-m!" The rest of the DFW's began pounding on the counter. "Calzone! Calzone!" The frightened, pimply-faced clerk put on a false air of bravado. "If they're so easy to make, why don't you just go and make it yourself?", he said, trying desperately to impress the waitresses giggling in the corner. Sandy drew herself up to her full 5'4" height. "And don't think I won't!" She marched behind the counter into the kitchen, followed by her fellow flagwavers. They immediately took over the kitchen, calling out orders and cutting pizza crusts in half. The teenagers behind the counter were apalled as flour and seasonings started flying through the air moments later. Pizza sauce splashed towards the waitresses as ingredients were slapped inside the crusts. "Like, *calzone*, I'm so sure!" "There's *pizza sauce* on my Versace vest!" "Quick, there's an all night dry cleaner... " "At the mall !!" the waitresses squealed in unison. They ran out of the restaurant. "At least they have cuter outfits here than that car parking job yesterday!" From the kitchen came loud voices. "Greek!" "Italian!" "Greek!" "ITALIAN!" --------------------------------------------------- Joanne did a double-take at the band. A few minutes ago she could have sworn it was the Jamboree Country Bear Band, or Chuck E's Pizza Polka Party, or something, but now... was that a *weasel* playing the banjo? And was that a ferret running across the piano keys? And that... creature... playing the accordian -- was that an *aardvark*? She blinked twice, but still saw the fearsome critters on the stage. she thought, and went back to her salad. Over in the corner, the wombats were playing with Chuck E.'s newly liberated tail. "Ooh, I look like a wallabee!" Comet preened, holding the tail to her fuzzy little wombat bottom and strutting around on her hind legs. "No, look! I'm a kangaroo!" Randy grabbed the tail and bounced up and down. "Hey, everybody, I'm a monkey!" Rose laughed, throwing the tail over a low-hanging pipe and swinging back and forth. --------------------------------------------------- The only remaining waitress was sitting with Methos at a table near the stage. "What do you want to hear?" she asked. "They sound just fine to me," he said, tapping his fingers on the tabletop. The waitress listened to the discordant cacophony of sounds emerging from the stage. , she thought. She stood up. "I'll see what I can do about the music." --------------------------------------------------- Joanne Curme Rob Distante =========================================================================== Date: Sun, 31 Mar 1996 23:38:09 -0500 From: Sandy Fields Subject: War: Are You Sure You Heard That Right? Title: Are You Sure You Heard That Right? Author: Sandy Fields When: evening Where: Chuck E. Cheese Well at last it looked like they were gonna stay put somewhere! This has got to be the worst evening they've had since they've been in Seacouver! First Joe's gets shut down, then Adrian's is closed for remodelling (and they thought they were finally gonna get a decent meal!), and now they end up at Chuck E Cheese! Aaarrrgggghhh! They don't even serve decent pizza here! So Sandy decided to remedy that situation by putting some of her own culinary skills to work, and thank goodness the others had offered to help. They decided to work in shifts so that they all could have a little fun and do a little snooping. Jo and Sandy took the first KP duty. As they were gettin' busy in the kitchen, Rose had come in unnoticed. Jo felt something down around her foot and absentmindedly gave it a little kick. "Ouch!" Jo looked down in time to see Rose -- morphing into the lovely woman that had visited them earlier that day. "Oh goodness. I'm so sorry. I didn't even look down. Did I hurt you?" Jo felt really bad about having kicked Rose like that -- even though it was only a little nudge. "It's OK. I've had worse things happen to me when I'm in that state. That's the one thing I don't like about it...." "Anyway...", she went on as she straightened her clothes, "it doesn't look like my gang is gonna be much help tonight. They've just discovered the big rat and an all-you-can-drink Coke dispenser. But a couple of us are here for some serious business. We'll keep in touch." "OK. See you around, Rose. And we'll make sure not to kick or step on any of you tonight. You guys seem to be all over the place!" With that Rose morphed into her wombat persona and scampered out of the kitchen to see what the Kimmies were up to. As Jo turned to work on the meal, Barb and Char entered the kitchen. As they reached in the cooler for some Dr. Pepper, Barb reported, "One of the wombats just told me that he overheard a conversation between Kassim and another Kimmie. They're plotting something and it doesn't sound good. They keep mentioning MacLeod. Duncan's name coming out of the mouth of a Kimmie can mean nothing but bad news. And.... uh....." Barb and Char both had funny smiles on their faces and neither of them seemed to want to finish this sentence. "Well... what else?" Jo and Sandy both looked at each other and then back to their two friends. Then Char spoke up. "That one that we fried the other day... Kassim... he's been smiling at Tiye ever since we got here. Even gave her a bunch of his tokens." They all broke out laughing. Then Charlotte abruptly stopped laughing and got a strange look on her face. Just then Barb caught on, too. "I'll go get Tiye", she said. "I got a feeling she's gonna like this assignment!" When Tiye was told of the information the wombats had provided, she heroically agreed to 'get chummy' with Kassim. "If it'll help Duncan, I'll do it... of course. Anything for Duncan." Just then another wombat popped into the kitchen, spoke one sentence, and left. They all smiled. "So *that's* what Kassim likes, huh? Oh yeah... I'm *really* gonna like this assignment!" Tiye laughed. "You go, girl!" The others chimed. Tiye thought, "I wonder if an immortal's......" Nobody in the place could understand what could be so darned funny in the kitchen of Chuck E. Cheese. --------------------------------------------------- Motor City Mama =========================================================================== Date: Sun, 31 Mar 1996 22:34:06 -0500 From: Enmare Subject: War: What do you mean.. Title: What do you mean the fat lady's stuck in traffic?!?! Author: Enmare When: Evening Where: Chuck E Cheese, Joe's place Enmare had caught up with them leaving Chuck E Cheese's. "I didn't even know they had these places anymore." Joe looked at her. "Are you okay?" Enmare smiled sadly and sniffed. "Nothing a good cry didn't help." ------------------ After Joe had gone to fetch a sweater, Lori told Enmare that the war had been given an extension. "What?!" Enmare shouted. "No, not now. Not when I have to start working extra hours so I can afford to see Andre Braugher in the Shakespeare in Central Park." "I thought that was free," Karen said. "Not when you don't live in New York City. Damnation. All right then, I'm going to head over to Chuck E Cheeses and make sure things go alright." She began to throw some supplies into a bag. "Are you sure you can stand to go back there?" Lori asked. Enmare grinned evilly. "Of course. I have a high tolerence for kitsch. After all, I'm a Perkulator." The others shuddered at this revelation. "Let's see... Karaoke tapes, check. Vitamin L and Barney karaoke tapes, check. Cell phone. Hits of the 70s. Pink fuzzy slippers... Watchman... Modal Prepostional Calculus..." "Wait a minute," Lori asked. " 'Modal Prepostional Calculus'?" "Yeah. It's a logic tool. Watch..." Enmare drew some figures on a sheet of paper, and the centerpiece on the table turned into a small blue creature from alpha centuri. She made a few more sentences and it vanished. "Something I've been learning in school. The greatest thing is proof by contradiction; that's what I just did. Basically, you introduce a paradox, and then you can conclude anything you want, like that MacLeod is a sentient being, or that a cneterpiece is actually an alien form of life. I figure that it will be of some use in a place as unreal as Chuck E Cheeses. Give Joe my regards." And with that she ran out of the door. --------------- Back in the restaurant (if you can call it that) Joanne and Rob saw Enmare come in and sit down at a booth to start writing furiously in a notebook. "Ah, it seems the JFWs have decided to stick it out afterall." Rob commented. "Isn't that cute. Must be some fanfic she's working on..." Suddenly, the Disney-esqe music that had been pouring out of the tinny speakers was replaced by country and western. "Damn spelling mistakes..." Enmare muttered, crossed out a line, rewrote it, and soon the place was shaking to techno. British techno. The kind of techno with two lines tops. The techno breed with piercing high notes that are proving to induce migraines. I am refering, off course, to the band Prodigy... "I got da poison, I got da remedy, I got da poison da rythmical re-me-dy..." Humming "Hooked on a Feeling" quietly, Enmare continued to write... =========================================================================== Date: Thu, 4 Apr 1996 10:07:38 -0500 From: Carol Ann Liddiard Subject: WAR: You left me at Joe's! Title: You Left Me at Joe's Author: Carol Ann Liddiard When: Thursday night Where: Chuck E Cheese Everyone was there, from immortals, mortals, wombats, and the like. Everything was fine until Carol Ann said "Oh, no. I forgot about Leighann. She's still at Joe's!" Suddenly, a brown-haired, blue eyed young woman yanked the door open and went to Carol Ann and said "You left me at Joe's." Then she asked "Have I missed anything? Is it over?" said Leighann, meaning the war. "Afraid the War is over, Leighann." said Carol Ann sadly. "I'm sorry I left you at Joe's. We've been so busy. I forgot you." Then Leighann sighed and said "S'okay." Then she mumbled something under her breath that sounded like "Next time, I'm gonna join Connor's faction." Suddenly, a voice spoke behind her "You haven't really missed a thing, I assure you. Are you one of mine? Haven't I seen you somewhere?" Leighann turned and found the most gorgeous man in the universe in front of her (well... besides Connor... and Duncan... and Joe...) "Methos!" she whispered in awe. Her blue eyes went wide and her mouth was slightly open. *Yes,yes. I could never forget *his* face. Those eyes. That nose. The hair. I first met him at the seminar that Dr. Fried gave. Oh, he is as cute. .no, wait. . he's down right drop dead gorgeous.* She must have been daydreaming too long because Methos waved a hand in front of her face and said "Are you all right?? You looked as if you went somewhere." "Oh, Yeah. Sorry. Had NKFS (Nick Knight Flashback Syndrome) there for a moment. Yes, you did meet me. At Dr. Fried's seminar a while back. I'm Leighann." Leighann held out her hand for Methos to shake. Instead of shaking her hand, Methos turned over her hand and kissed it. Then he said "Oh, yes. Now I remember you. You kept asking me the questions about my life and about swords. Too bad I could give you much about my life." Then he smiled. "Yes, but your love life was quite interesting. You didn't really seduce Marie Antionette(sp), did you?" said Leighann with a smirk. Methos smiled and laughed "I'm afraid that will have to be another time. Are you with my faction?" he asked. "Yes, I am." said Leighann, smiling at Methos. "Good. Then we will have plently to talk about. Let's go join the others." "Oh, here. Here's your drink." Methos gave Leighann a glass of Coca-Cola. "Coca-Cola?" sighed Leighann. "All I've drunk is Coca-Cola. How about some Glenmorangie?" "Come on. You can't drink Glenmorangie yet. You're only 20." said Methos. "Cheer up. This is not the end of the world." Methos smirked. "Let's go." Methos put his arm around Leighann's neck and turned around. When they turned to the others and then sat down next to each other, Leighann started to bombard the others on how the Christening went and about baby Mary. Methos said nothing and continued to smile at Leighann. Suddenly, Carol Ann spoke up and asked "Adam, I know you know Leighann through the seminar, but where else did you meet her?" Methos smiled and said "Well, I was driving through North Carolina and I got lost. I was supposed to meet a friend on the campus of Leighann's school And suddenly, Leighann appeared and helped me find my way. Unfortunetly, my friend couldn't make it, so I asked Leighann to come with me to get something to eat. Leighann was free for the afternoon, and so she agreed. She took me to a local place and we ate and talked. And then after three days, I left." *Three days?????* thought Carol Ann. As if seeing the look on her face, Methos replied "Leighann was very civil. Even though one time, she kissed me very passionately in the library. But I told her that I thought of her only as a friend." Leighann smiled at Methos "But one can hope, can't one?" Methos laughed and raised his glass of Coca-cola "Yes, indeed. One can hope" "What's the plan for tomorrow?" asked Leighann. "We all go home." said Carol Ann simply. *Sigh* said Leighann *Next time, I'm *really* going to join the Connor faction.* Then Methos caught her eyes and smiled. Secretly, Leighann smiled back. Then Carol Ann asked "Why do you call him Methos, instead of Adam?" Leighann smiled and said "I like Methos better. It sounds more *sensual*. "Hmm. .Methos?" Methos just smiled. Then his cheeks turned a slight red. *What are they not telling me?* thought Carol Ann looking at both Methos and Leighann. Methos & Leighann said nothing and just smiled. ************************************** Leighann klcombs@hamlet.uncg.edu =========================================================================== Date: Wed, 3 Apr 1996 11:20:42 -0500 From: Carol Ann Liddiard Subject: WAR: Seven Minutes in Heaven Title: Seven Minutes in Heaven Author: Lisa Krakowka When: During the revelry at chuck-e-cheese Where: the restaurant and a broom closet With a thinly veiled wink at Lizbet, Lisa grabbed Heidi by the elbow and ushered her towards the door. She motioned for Dana to come along as well, filling them in on the plan. "Are you sure this is safe?" Heidi asked. Lisa nodded. "No one can get seriously hurt in cyberspace. Are you guys with me?" Dana rubbed his hands together gleefully. "You bet." "Okay, Heidi, you go back inside and get Adam to a place where he's accesable. Dana, you grab Lizbet." Lisa put her fingers to her lips and sounded the Whistle Trick as Dana ran for his bike. Heidi ducked back inside and singled Adam out of the crowd, steering him toward the door with promises of more beer. Moments later, there was a loud crash, followed shortly by the sound of a reving motorcycle engine and hooves on linoleum. Two figures dressed in black entered the room, one on horseback wearing a hooded cloak and the other hidden behind the face shield of a motorcycle helmet. Folks scattered as a motorcyclist roared through the crowd and scooped up Lizbet, who was heard screaming "NO! NOT AGAIN! IT'S OVER. I'M THROUGH BEING KIDNAPPED." The mysterious figure on horseback cantered over to Adam and grabbed him by the scruff of his coat, yanking him up across the front of the saddle and clocking him across the back of the head with the handle of a thick riding crop. He slumped forward, unconscious. The figures in black vanished out the door in a plume of exhaust. They came to a halt several blocks later, outside the Four Seasons hotel and Lisa threw back her hood with a laugh. "Dana, you'll have to get Adam for me, I doubt I can carry him." Dana took off his helmet and pulled Adam from the horse, hefting him over his shoulder and heading for the doors. "Your broom closet awaits, Lizbet." Lisa slid to the ground and bowed deeply. "Do you think they bought it?" Lizbet asked. Lisa shrugged. "Who cares. By the time anyone gets here you two will be very well hidden and Dana and I will be long gone, having a beer at Joe's." Lizbet flashed a positively evil grin and followed her into the elevator. They got out of the 22nd floor and Dana set the rapidly awakening Adam against a vacuum cleaner in a maid's closet. Lisa gave Lizbet a playful shove and closed the door. "It doesn't lock," Lizbet sid quietly. "No problem," Lisa took two steps back and dealt the doorknob a viscious kick with the heel of her boot. It popped off and rolled to the floor a few feet away. Inside the closet, Adam groaned and rubbed the back of his head. "Where am I?" Lizbet sank to her knees and threw an arm around his shoulder. "Looks like we have been kidnapped together. I think we're in a broom closet somewhere." From outside the door, a soft chuckle sounded, followed by the words "Candygram, Lizbet." =========================================================================== Date: Mon, 1 Apr 1996 00:05:13 -0500 From: Kim Bjarkman Subject: Aardvark Develops a New Emotion Title: Aardvark Develops a New Emotion (aka Operation: Get the Acrylic Imposters!) Author: Bob J. Aardvark When: Night Where: West Seacouver Chuck E. Cheese Why: Sometimes, Bob just needs to kick back * * * * * Aardvark Bob was beginning to get a headache from all these plot holes in the fabric of the war's space-time continuum. She decided she definitely needed a drink. She surveyed her surroundings. From the looks of things, she had definitely crash-landed in the right place. The wombats were everywhere. When she'd received the invitation, Bob had really thought Chuck E. Cheese sounded like a disastrous idea for a gathering point. She had envisioned wombats running for their lives as droves of children scampered after them, tugging on their fur and squeezing their cushy bodies and poking at their adorable crinkly noses. For once, Bob was actually relieved by her aardvark status. She had been insanely jealous of her wombat companions since the beginning of the war. They got to do all the fun stuff: manipulating people with that wide-eyed charm of theirs, they didn't have horrid scaly tails, and best of all, they got to go about *biting* people. But, with one glance around the restaurant, she felt assured that the children didn't stand a chance; the 'bats had taken Chuck E. Cheese by storm. They were scoffing all the food in the place. There were empty pitchers scattered about the floor everywhere. That reminded Bob about that drink she was desperately in need of, so off she toddled to the nearest server and attracted her attention with an urgent nudge on her calf. "What do you mean you don't serve hard liquor?" Bob hadn't stopped to consider the ramifications of coming to a family restaurant to get pissed. Unfortunately, Coke and Pepsi just didn't do it for her. There were... other alternatives. Twelve coffees spiked with Ribena later, Bob was really starting to feel tipsy. The room was a giant furry blur. In one corner of the restaurant, a curtain raised to reveal an altogether different bunch of furry masses. Bob's eyes narrowed and her snout twitched as she spotted what lay behind Curtain Number One. Her pulse -- already having reached a dangerously high level for her small aardvark body due to the caffeine flooding through her veins -- tripled on the spot. She heard a banjo start up. That was the final straw. Now *this* was war. She bolted in a bee-line towards the stage as fast as her awkward little legs would carry her and planted the fiercest head-butt she had ever delivered directly into the shin of a giant bear which was holding a banjo and wearing a straw hat. The singing country bear toppled over from the blow. The rest of the fake furry travesty of a band played on. Bob remembered now why she hadn't been to a Chuck E. Cheese since childhood. She spit out a clump of acrylic bear fur. Stumbling away from her recent victim and feeling seriously woozy as the shock rippled through her skull, Bob waddled around for a moment. Through her hazy vision she spotted something else that made her head spin, but in a... *different* way. Her little aardvark heartbeat was now utterly beyond control. By the Pepsi machine stood the fuzziest, fluffiest, damn cutest bit of no-tail she'd ever laid eyes on. She had always had a thing for wombats. Her eyelashes trembled from the visual impact. This really had to be the caffeine kicking in. It simply did not befit a cousin to have... such feelings. Aardvark Bob heaved a sigh that echoed across the stage and was loud enough to be heard above what remained of the synthetic band as she slunk to the floor, muttering about burrowing and marsupials. ---------------- Bob J. Aardvark, nocturnal Reachable at: flowper@omni.cc.purdue.edu =========================================================================== Date: Mon, 1 Apr 1996 00:15:06 -0500 From: Sandy Fields Subject: War: Never Judge a Book by its Cover Title: Never Judge a Book by its Cover Author: Sandy Fields When: Late evening Where: Chuck E. Cheese Everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves, at least outwardly. Of course the tension was high -- what with immies, kimmies, flag wavers, ferrets, weasels, and wombats filling up the place. But at least no one had pulled out a sword -- yet. The only ones that seemed to be "overindulging" were the wombats. Man do they love their cola! I guess it was just too much to think they would *all* be cooperative tonite. Sabotaging the calzone! Well I guess they don't have to eat it, so they don't care. Good thing they didn't ruin it all. There were some mighty hungry folks in this pizzeria/funhouse. Jo had even managed to get Duncan all to herself for a few minutes. He thanked her and the others for coming to the rescue in the kitchen. He hadn't been looking forward to more pizza, either; and he thought the calzone had turned out great. (He didn't know about the wombats' little fiasco in the kitchen... yet.) Jo beamed at the compliment from her hero -- and friend. Then she told him how helpful *some* of the wombats had been and about the plan to get information out of Kassim. Duncan was pleased... and impressed. "Tiye's tattoo is quite appropriate", he commented. "She is a Queen in every sense of the word. I do hope you ladies are enjoying your time here. With all this war business going on, I'd imagine you haven't seen much of the city." "We managed some sightseeing when we first got here. But we really came here to help you... and I hope we've done that." Duncan smiled and planted a kiss on Jo's cheek -- very near her mouth. "Indeed you have dear lady... indeed you have." Thankful that she was sitting down, Jo managed a polite smile, but couldn't think of a thing to say. The only words that seemed to be in her mind at the moment were 'brown eyes'. Just then a wombat scurried over to the table and nudged Joanne, bringing her back to earth. "Looks like something's up. I guess I'd better go see what's happening. There's more food in the back if you want it." As Jo left Duncan to follow the animal to the kitchen, she hoped no one could tell that her legs were shaking like rubber bands. The little wombat entered the kitchen, and by the time Jo entered, Rose had changed to human form and was leaning against one of the counters. "Jo, we can't seem to really get a handle on this Kassim guy. All this eavesdropping we've been doing, and we still can't figure out if he's really evil or just hanging out with the wrong crowd. Maybe Tiye can find out one way or the other." "Maybe if your friends would stop trying to sabotage this kitchen, they might be able to find out something useful. But I guess it's all up to Tiye." Jo smiled mischievously. Have you been watching her, Rose? She's really making use of that info you gave her on Kassim. He looks like a man in love!" "Yeah... we've been watching," Rose answered. "That girl sure knows how to work it, doesn't she? With all this noise and craziness going on in this place, they seem to be in a world all their own. Hic! Now they're heading for the jukebox." "Rose! Not you too!" Jo looked a little disappointed. "You're the one that came over this morning and told us about this whole thing! Now you're into the Coke, or Pepsi, or whatever it is... along with the rest of them. I sure hope I don't find out that you had anything to do with the mess in the kitchen!" "Cross my heart..hic!..and hope to hic! I didn't do it. And I'm jush fine, thank you! I can hol' up my end! Just then everybody in the place started to sway back and forth in their seats as the raunchy sound of the Z.Z. Hill classic "Down Home Blues" came pouring out of the jukebox. People were snapping their fingers, clapping their hands, and tapping their feet. Kassim pushed some tables out of the way, and he and Tiye took to the dance floor. They were quickly joined by a few others who were there to just have a good time for a change. During the dance, the closely-watched couple were whispering to each other, and Tiye would occasionally laugh at some humorous anecdote Kassim was relating to her. When the music stopped, she came back into the kitchen with a smile. "I'm having a hard time remembering what I'm supposed to be doing here, you know? Even Kassim said he had been looking forward to hearing Joe play a little blues, but since Joe's group whisked him out of here so fast, Kassim decided to find some on the jukebox. It never occured to me that a kimmie would like blues. Oh well... see you girls in a while." And with that, Tiye went over to their table, picked up her purse, turned and winked at Sandy, and left with Kassim the immortal at her side. Sandy and Rose just stood and watched in amazement. Motor City Mama =========================================================================== Date: Tue, 2 Apr 1996 23:53:26 -0400 From: Enmare Subject: WAR: P and not P Title: P and not P {proof by contradiction} Author: Enmare When: Thursday evening Where: Chuck E Cheese's -There is a disturbance in the force- Gavin's gut told him, before he started quickly morphing between human and wombat form. Deciding that it wasn't the cola this time, he followed the... not quite pull of whatever it was that was affecting him, and wound up at a corner table where a young lady was writing furiously. "*Ahem*" he cleared his throat. The girl looked up and saw the constantly morphing wombat. "Oh! Sorry." She erased a few lines and Gavin settled back into his wombat form and sat down with a sigh. "Um... sorry about that. I was using the dual nature of the wombat group as a paradox for introducing things in this proof." "The paradox only applies when we're morphing." Gavin told her. "I didn't think of that. My name's Enmare." She waved a hand over her papers. "It's my final project for logic class and I thought I might be able to put it to some use here. Hm... okay, I think I found a way around it." Gavin looked at one of the pages, and it was covered with numbered lines with symbols and paranthesis. The whole thing looked like programming. He shuddered. "I'm Gavin. People keep spelling it wrong." "Ah... the MacLeod wombat." Enmare nodded sympathetically. "People just don't understand how hard that job is." Enmare nodded, reached into the Backpack of the Black Hole (called this after it ate a bottle of suntan lotion in Wyoming. Enmare told her family, once they had shook it empty twice that it was miffed that it hadn't gotten its own seat on the plane. Soon after, the backpack finally disgorged the bottle, but not until the whole family was sunburned)... reached into the Backpack of the Black Hole and pulled out a bottle and poured something for the wombat. He sniffed it. "What's this?" Gavin asked. "Some drink my grandma used to make. Not really egg-based, but it tastes kinda like egg-nog. I think it's the nutmeg and the marshmallow." "Marshmallow?" "Yeah, its a plant." Gavin took a sip. It was... good, actually, although it had nothing on Coke or Pepsi, or Peeps for that matter. "So, you Joe flagwavers have the Chronicle?" Enmare nodded. "Well, Joe does, actually. But I've seen it." "What's in it?" "The usual rigermarole. Then how Methos founded the Hunters way back when to make life easier for himself. Later on, he realized the mistake he had made, when they took the head-gathering initiative for themselves. The Watchers were actually created by Methos to assimilate the Hunters into something less... destructive." "Methos? Really?" "Waaaaaay back, we're talking." Enmare shrugged. "Ancient history, really." "How did he realize his mistake?" "Actually," Enmare said in a low tone. "There was something about 'the fuzzy ones, lacking in tails'. Of course, that could be a metaphor for a past, or a history, but it's interesting." Gavin mulled this over, sipping a little at his drink. Enmare sniffed the air, and made a few adjustments to the sauce the DFW was using ("Not enough basil, and besides, we're talking Chuck E Cheese's pizza sauce here. Hardly appropiate for calzones."). That done, she sat back and looked at her writings. "That should do it." Suddenly, Enmare sat up. "No. I thought I'd told them. Absolutely no way." "What?" the wombat inquired. "Somebody is trying to bring Horton back." Enmare wrote down four sentences on her paper. "There, negation introduction. The plothole he fell into stays." "How?" "Basically, I assumed that the plothole hadn't existed, then brought up the paradox that the TARDIS is larger on the inside than on the outside. Since there was a contradicition in the subproof, the assumption failed and the plothole is still there." Gavin shuddered. "It sounds very weasel-like." Enmare nodded grimly. "It is sometimes, at that. But I use it for linguistics mainly, so I should remain relatively un-weaselized for a while. If I ever exhibit weasel behavior, I want you to tell me. I'll give you whatever you want in return." "Anything?" "Anything." "Well... how about never hitting a red light?" Enmare wrote a few more things down. "Done and done. If you and the other wombats ever want anything more, just tell me. Oh, and can I get your autograph?" "Why?" Gavin asked, although he preened a little. "A friend of mine back home is a big fan of wombats." Gavin signed a piece of paper with a flourish. "She'd love this. You should hear some of her wombat songs... as a matter of fact..." Enmare grinned evilly, perkily too, perhaps. "Now I know how to deal with those people who tried to cancel the plothole." While Enmare wrote quickly, Gavin observed the rest of Chuck E Cheese's. Tiye suddenly found herself next to a heavily made up Kassim dressed in a fetching flowered mu-mu, who could resist singing at least the phrase "Let's do the time warp again!" Several immies (and Rob) were gifted with a large flowerpot of tulips in their katana-spaces, ripping out at least three. And finally, the background music changed one last time, to female voices, clear and distinct (all members of the choir back home) singing Handel's Messiah with a few verse changes... "And they shall reign forever." "Forever, and ever" "And wombats" =========================================================================== Date: Wed, 3 Apr 1996 22:30:51 -0700 From: Falcon Storm Subject: WAR: Intentions Title: "Intentions - Part 1" Author: Falcon Storm - Co-Chief DFW When: Thursday night Where: Chuck E. Cheese Although everyone had been hesitant in dining at the kid's pizza parlor where oversized rodents paraded the floors, they were now thoroughly enjoying themselves. Thanks to Sandy and other members of the LAS, calzones had now been added to the menu for those who squirmed at the mention of pizza. Falcon, on the other hand, never tired of pizza, but she wasn't about to miss out on the homemade calzones, either. She had been watching Duncan most of the time, glad to see him relax after learning Lizbet was safe (and rather pleased after her time spent in the closet with a certain 5,000 year old immie), the Hortons were gone, and the Chronicle safe - for the time being anyway. As she watched him laughing with Amanda, she reflected on their relationship. They had met when Duncan visited her city to teach a Kung Fu workshop. Knowing the Sifu Duncan accompanied well, Falcon had been given the task of showing Duncan around town - a task they both came to enjoy immensely. Now, as she waited, she knew the time was right. She was no longer simply his student, but a partner, as they had taught martial art seminars together, and participated in the war as equals. On cue, her eyes scanned the room for Rob, who was leaning against the far wall in the shadows. Their gazes met, and he nodded toward her. Smiling, she took one last sip of her drink and sauntered over to her immortal. "Hey Duncan," she said, interrupting the conversation he was having with Amanda. "Duncan, I was just going over this technique in my mind and I'm having some difficulty with it; could you help me out?" Not allowing him to answer, she took hold of his hand and began pulling him away. "There's a spot over here where we can have some room..." Amanda wasn't sure what to do. And before she could even get a word in edgewise, Rob was at her side, a glowing smile on his face, a drink in his hand. "Amanda..." he started, but that was all Falcon heard as she hustled Duncan to a backroom. "Falcon, what on earth..." He never finished his sentence. Falcon swept a foot out from under him, and he fell back onto a sack of flour. Taking advantage of his surprise, she straddled him, holding him down with her hands on his chest. "Actually, I think that technique worked quite nicely," she said with a raised eyebrow. Duncan chuckled nervously. "What are you doing?" "I want you to kiss me before this is all over." She was preparing to reach for his lips, desire burning in her eyes, when a cat lept over them, and they heard a familiar yapping. Looking back at the doorway, they saw Heidi's beagles racing headlong after the feline. Climbing onto and jumping over the the only obstacle between them and their pursuit, Duncan and Falcon were quickly knocked over, tumbling onto the floor, crashing into sacks of flours. A woman's voice followed the commotion, as Heidi chased after her unruly pets. "Get back here!" she was yelling, and nearly stumbled over the two people strewn on the floor. Heidi paused only long enough to notice their rumpled, flour-covered states, but decided not to let her imagination wander too far. She continued after her pups. The intimate mood indefinitely broken, Falcon and Duncan simultaneously burst out laughing and he went over to help her up. "I hope Rob's having better luck," Falcon mumbled. "What was that?" "Oh nothing," she waved off. "Let's go get some more calzones." -------------------------------------------- Falcon Storm: Historian: DFW International ***************************************************** Co-Chief for the War DFW's "There can be only one" ***************************************************** =========================================================================== Date: Thu, 4 Apr 1996 07:17:56 -0500 From: Rob Distante Subject: WAR: Intentions Part 2 Title: Intentions Part 2 Author: Rob Distante When: Following, and concurrrent with, Falcon's part 1 Where Chuck E Cheese "Amanda ... ", Rob sighed to himself. "My God, she's even more stunning in person than on screen. I never thought Falcon would get Duncan away from her, and her flagwavers are apparently *still* missing, so here's my chance - to make a fool of myself, I'm sure." Rob sat down at the table by her, encouraged by her wide smile. "So here I am at last, staring at *Amanda herself* and looking like an idiot. She's just breathtaking - I'm sure she must be used to all this attention. Why can't I think of anything charming to say to my favorite fictional character?" "What do you mean by 'fictional character'?" Amanda asked, a puzzled look on her face. Rob's jaw nearly dropped to the tabletop when he realized what he had done. ' signs!> . "I didn't realize I was talking out loud," Rob said, mortified. He stood up to leave. Amanda pulled him back down. "Sit down," she laughed. "Well, at least you *did* say charming things... but what did you mean about my being a fictional character?" "Well, you know you're just a fictional character in a television show, don't you?" Rob asked her. "Oh really? What's it called - ' The Adventures of Amanda ' ?" she asked. Carefully using the proper symbols, Rob thought . Rob simply nodded. "It's all about immortals, and watchers, and your experiences." "Oh really?" He saw *that* glimmer in her eyes. "So - who are you?" "Would you believe - your new romantic interest?" She laughed. "It's not THAT easy... ! " She winked. "What's your name? And who are you supposed to be?" "I'm Rob, and I really am Rob - you're just talking to my virtual self." "And that means what, exactly?" "I'm a real person, and I'm writing a story where I'm involved in the plot... so I'm me, but I'm in your world. Right now we're waiting for the Finale..." "And that's... a bedroom scene?", she said as her eyes twinkled with merriment. "Well, this is supposed to be PG rated, so unfortunately... " he shrugged. "And you don't think I'm real?" Amanda asked mockingly, leaning enticingly towards him. Rob's gaze slid from her eyes, down her throat, to her plunging neckline . . . "A few of us have wondered about that. I'm willing to sacrifice myself for the cause." She feigned offense, then met his eyes in challenge. "Can a fictional character do... this?", she asked, moving forward... :::Rob faints at the keyboard::: =========================================================================== Date: Sat, 30 Mar 1996 20:09:33 -0500 From: Enmare Subject: WAR: Horton in the Underworld Title: Hortons in the Underworld Author: Enmare When: Right After The Sting going to several days later Where: Hades, Hell, the Pit of Sulfur... basically, not a very nice place They had reached terminal velocity, and had been falling long enough for James Horton to be annoyed with the whole process. Peter was getting his voice back, and opened his mouth to scream again. "Don't." Horton warned. They fell further. A shotglass caught up with them and hit Peter on the head. "Ow!" he yelled. -Couldn't have timed it better myself- Horton thought. More falling. Horton drifted off to sleep with dreams of vengeance on every single soul in Seacouver. Horton woke up again, still falling, willing to settle with only Duncan MacLeod. After a little while he decided he'd be willing to settle on the Energizer Bunny if only he could get *some* vengeance. Peter began to whimper. Another day of falling later, Peter turned his head towards his brother. "We've been falling a long time." Horton grunted. "Do you suppose we could become the patron saints of falling?" "*Think* about it Peter. *Saints*" "I guess not." Horton decided that nepotism was a bad idea. Finally, they hit rock bottom, Peter landing on top of James, and knocked the wind out of him. Horton sniffed the air. Sulfur. Hot sulfur. He coughed experimentally, then decided that it didn't make things any better. "Hells..." he muttered. Peter got up. "Yup. Don't worry bro; we got *influence* around here." Horton grunted noncommitedly. "Do you think we survived the fall?" "It's debateable." "Oh." Peter paused. "James, I wanted to ask you something. You know how you always survive these death-causing thingys?" "Yeah." "Are you *really* a reverse vampire?" Horton sighed and stood up himself. "Come on, Petey, we have to get ready for tomorrow night." "What are we doing tomorrow night, James?" "The same thing we do every night. Try to kill MacLeod." They walked further into the netherworld, turning right at the "Ironic Punishments Division". =========================================================================== Date: Wed, 3 Apr 1996 22:27:16 -0600 From: Deb Palmer Subject: War: End of an Idyll Title: End of an Idyll Author: Deb Palmer and Sheila Marie Lane Where: Four Seasons Hotel When: Thursday night As logan and Deb relaxed on the bed (on *top* of the covers! What were you thinking?), they heard a knock at the door. They looked at each other warily. "Should we get it?" logan murmured. "I'd really rather not. I was kind of hoping to get a nap in..." Deb commented, giving him *the* look. The knock (by this time, it was more of a pound) came again, and this time it was followed by an annoyed voice. "I know the two of you are in there. Put on whatever needs putting back on and come open the door!" The two exchanged a glance and sighed. "You know she's not going to go away if we don't answer," Deb said. "Might as well let her in and see what she wants. She was bound to find out you were here. Time to face the music." "Coming, Celli!" Deb called. She hurried to the door and unlocked it. A very harried-looking Celli was standing there, holding a thermos in one hand and a wrapped package in the other. Her face cleared a bit when she saw Deb, and the two women hugged. "Hey, babe. How's it going?" Deb asked, wondering if Celli was going to bring up how she'd lied to her about logan... "Argh. You would not believe what I had to go through to get away from everybody. They keep wanting to talk to me, ask me what I'm doing. Geez, you'd think--" She stopped short when she got a look at logan, still lying on the bed, hands behind his head. Celli handed Deb the objects in her hands with a smile. She walked into the room slowly, folded her arms over her chest, and said in a voice devoid of inflection, "Well. logan. Imagine seeing you here." He tried to match her tone but couldn't quite. "Celli." "Nice to see you again." "Uh, sure, yeah, it is..." he replied, not quite liking the look in her eye. He wasn't sure what she had up her sleeve, but he was positive he wasn't going to like it. And *none* of this was his fault! He'd thought he was coming to Seacouver to help out a friend, and well, he had, just not in the way that he'd thought at first. Although he couldn't say he was disappointed in the way things turned out. But something told him Celli didn't see it that way... She reached back to Deb and smiled. "I brought you something--a peace offering, I think. Just to let you know that everything's all right between the two of us." Deb handed her the thermos silently. Celli poured a cup of something pinkish and handed it to him. logan looked at the cup as though it would explode any second. He looked back up at Celli, noticing that evil glint still in her eye. "Um, I don't think so. I don't drink pink." "Are you sure?" Celli grinned. "Muriel loved it." logan actually inched back a few inches. "No! Really. I think...I'd like some water. I'll get some water." Before he could move, Deb had brought him a glass. She smiled at him and then shot Celli a glare. Deb thought to herself. Celli just grinned. "If you'd rather...fine." She sat down on the bed and started sipping from the cup herself. "Mm, this is really good. Want some, Deb?" "Why not?" Deb took the cup from Celli's hand and had some. "Wow, this is great. What is it?" "It's my not-quite-stepmom Kathy's homemade wine cooler. I adore it." logan was starting to feel a little silly...Obviously there was nothing wrong with the stuff. He was being needlessly suspicious. He yawned as he leaned back against the headboard and finished off his water. He was feeling so sleepy all of a sudden. Maybe that nap would have been a good idea... He smiled lazily as he watched the two women watching him. That stuff did look good. Maybe he'd ask for some...in a little while... A few minutes later, logan was flat on his back and snoring lightly. Deb looked down at him with a wistful smile and sighed. "Too bad it couldn't have lasted longer, babe. But this war's about to end and we have to get you back home." "Yeah, well, all fantasies have to end at some point. And this one was great while it lasted." Deb smirked. "It sure was! Remember that line about places I didn't know I had? I'm still tingling...I tell you, the things this guy can do..." (but it's still a PG war and you guys are just going to have to use your imagination.) Celli reached down and started unbottoning logan's shirt. She stopped at about the third button and looked up. "You know, I have a feeling that Kip is laughing hysterically somewhere." Deb smiled."I just had the same feeling. Let's see if we can make him laugh even harder." She bent down to help. ------------------------------------------------ Several hours later... logan came to with a jump as he returned to consciousness. was his first thought as he straightened up. He glanced down. He closed his eyes and tried to remember. Ah, yes, it was all coming back to him now...he and Deb had been relaxing when Celli arrived. They'd drank some pink stuff and he'd had a glass of water...Slowly it dawned on him that he'd been drugged. By Deb, of all people! He began a slow burn. was the only thought he could focus on. He buried his face in his hands. The utter indignity of finding himself on an airplane dressed in only his pajama bottoms...he could hardly take it in. He looked more close at the bottoms in question, wondering where they'd come from since he hadn't packed any for the trip. he thought as recognized them as half the pair he'd loaned Celli for The Gathering in Denver last year. The flight attendant suddenly noticed that he was awake. "Sir, how are you feeling? Your sisters explained everything when they brought you on board. You'll find a carry-on bag in the overhead compartment above you. They asked me to give you this note." She handed him a folded piece of paper. He looked at her oddly, wondering why she wasn't questioning this half-dressed man in first class. God only knew what the two of them had told her! He took the note and opened it slowly, not sure if he really wanted to read it, still not quite able to believe what had happened over the past few days. He took a deep breath and started reading. "logan, please forgive me. I know you and I know that you're furious right now...in fact, you're probably planning on how you're going to kill me the next time you see me." he thought as he continued reading. "And I can't really blame you. I lured you to Seacouver under totally false pretenses just so I could have my way with you. I just couldn't seem to help myself...you *are* totally irresistable, you know. But I don't regret it. I'd do it again...and again...and again. It was fantastic." he remembered with a smile on his face. "I'm really sorry that things had to end this way. But Celli was *extremely* put out with me over this whole affair and I had to offer her some kind of compromise...she seems to have some kind of grudge against you...and this way, we were both spared my tearful farewell scene. You know how emotional I am. Sigh. I'm going to miss you, hon. Deb." He sighed and began refolding the note. He'd have to think of some appropriate way to torment her for a while to pay her back for this little trick. Not that he minded being lured to Seacouver, but this bit with the pajamas on an airplane was *way* over the top. There was no doubt about it...he'd have to find some way to get even. ---------------------------------------------------- Deb sighed as the two women got back into the car after making the arrangements with the flight attendant for logan. "I can't believe you made me do that. He's never going to forgive me, you know. And it was such a *good* couple of days..." Celli shrugged. "He'll get over it. You'll end up blaming the whole thing on me and everything will be fine." "I suppose," Deb sighed again, wishing she'd at least had a chance for a final fling with logan's delectible body before Celli had shown up. Who knew *when* she'd get to see him again? If he ever forgave her... ---------------------------------------------------- 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 list member from HeLLL and a MMMM (Mild Mannered Methos Minion) =========================================================================== Date: Tue, 2 Apr 1996 19:16:31 -0800 From: Joanne Curme Subject: WAR: For Whom The Bell Tolls "I believe we are on an irreversible trend toward more freedom and democracy -- but that could change." -- Vice President Dan Quayle, 5/22/89 Title: For Whom The Bell Tolls Author: Joanne Curme and Rob Distante When: Thursday, Around Midnight Where: West Seacouver Chuck E. Cheese It was just another night at Chuck E. Cheese. The paramedics had already taken away Kathleen, and half the band had been gnawed to shreds by the wombats. The aardvark that had head-butted the mechanical bear playing the guitar was making marsupial-eyes at Doc, who hadn't gotten quite as plastered with Rose as Ma wanted. Sandy was chasing something around the kitchen floor, throwing little rolled-up chunks of dough at it and shouting "No anchovies!" Enmare was scribbling something in a notebook across the aisle as the music on the jukebox bounced from punk to rock to jazz. Finally it settled on retro-pop. Tay and (short-haired) Carol Ann were smooching in a corner, and Joanne (after re-reading the paragraph she had just written) was very glad she had double-checked the TO: field in this post before she sent it. Speaking of Joanne, she had carefully watched most of the DFW's go into the kitchen, leaving Duncan momentarily unprotected. Always the one to seize the moment, she went to make a pass at him. Meanwhile, back at the K'immie table ... "You are the one who calls himself 'Sensei Rob'?" demanded the man with the horrible beard. "Yes," said Rob, looking at his would-be challenger with disinterest. "I have a bone to pick with you!" said Kassim, pulling one out of his facial hair and waving it at Rob. "Your karate sucks! I don't think you're good enough to defeat *me*!" Wiping pizza grease off his fingers, Rob said quietly, "If I want your opinion, I'll beat it out of you." "I can deliver killing techniques with my bare hands and feet!" Kassim bragged. Rob looked at Kassim nonchalantly, and started playing with the silverware at his table. "Better start taking off your shoes and socks, then." "I can shatter three boards with a single strike!" Kassim bragged as he hopped around, pulling off his footgear. Rob sat at the table, bending fork tines in odd directions. "Boards don't punch back." Suddenly, Kassim pulled out a knife and threw it at Rob. Rob snatched it out of the air and flipped it back into Kassim's chest. "It's all in the reflexes." Kassim pulled the blade out. He healed a few moments later, smiling. "Time heals all wounds," he said, charging forward. Rob tossed the silverware to the floor, and watched Kassim's bare feet get impaled by the forks. "Yes, and tines wound all heels." Rob snickered as Kassim hopped off to the kitchen, cursing in some obscure ancient tongue. -------------------------------------------------- Joanne returned to the table with a frown and a bowl of peanuts. "Mission accomplished?" Rob asked, noting her sullen mood. "Nope." She sat down and placed the bowl in the middle of the table. "He's booked until November. Besides, he said I didn't squeal good enough." She reached into the bowl, cracked open a peanut shell, and flung the pieces at Rob. "Men. Anything happen while I was gone? And what's that smell?" "The usual ... and nothing I couldn't handle," Rob said. He pulled out the "Care and Feeding" pamphlet he had received from Grandfather Wu. The little fella he'd picked up at the Floor Sessions Hotel was squirming around in his pocket, so Rob scooped him out and put him on the table. The critter sat up and looked around at the chaotic scene, and Joanne looked closely at Rob's new pet. "He has tiny little hands! Isn't he just adorable? So what did Wu say it was?" Joanne asked as it plucked a piece of pepperoni off the pizza pan and played peekaboo with a particle of peanut shell. "A wombat". She paused, prepared to protest, when he added, "a Short Haired Brazilian Wombat." "Never heard of them." "Me neither. But Wu knew. I got this instruction manual -- well, sorta -- that'll tell me all about him." He read out loud: "1. Keep out of direct sunlight. 2. Don't allow to eat anchovy calzones after midnight. 3. Do not immerse in carbonated beverages." He flipped it over and read a final note on the back. "Thank you for your purchase, Harvey J Mudd Enterprises." "That's it?" Rob grumbled. "I've been had. Grandfather Wu is the best con artist in... in... wherever we are." ----------------------------------------------- Ensign Crusher crept along the Jeffries tube towards the engineering section of the renegade Klingon warship. Behind him he was lugging a cannister full of kennidium, the DPOTW (Dangerous Particle of the Week). "Captain Picard will be so proud of me when I blow their warp core with the fantastically explosive kennidium", he mumbled to himself. "And Counselor Amanda Troi will finally run away with me, and we'll live happily ever after, naked in the mud baths of..." *creak* the daring explorer looked down through the grate he was passing over, hoping it would hold his weight. "Damn! It looks like I'm directly over their mess hall." He looked down to see all the real, mechanical, and costumed animals running around. "They probably eat those things live! Kewl! There's one ripping his own head off right at the table!" he thought to himself, Carefully, Kenny continued forward, dragging the suitcase full of explosives behind him *bzzt!* *bzzt!* Kenny fired his phaser at an imaginary Denubian slime devil. "Yeah, just me and Amanda Troi... " ----------------------------------------------- Chuck E Cheese sat down at the table with them, wearily putting his feet up on a nearby stool. "Not true, leafhopper," he said, removing his head. "Wu!" Rob exclaimed. "What brings you here?" "Just wanted to see the finale. Everyone seems to be waiting for something. Get me a rootbeer, weevil, and we'll talk about it." "Under one condition, Grandfather - STOP CALLING ME BUG NAMES!" "That is acceptable... " Under his breath, Wu added " ...maggot." "I heard that!" --------------------------------------------------- (somewhere, the clock rings midnight) "Here you are, Grandfather," Rob said, putting down two gargantuan soft drinks and a couple calzones in front of Wu. He sat down and pulled the strange little wombat out of his pocket. The creature made a beeline for the calzone, and Rob indulgently pulled a piece off it and gave it to the suddenly starving animal. "Grandfather Wu," Joanne started, "why has the war died down so much over the last few days? I mean, Friday and Saturday (RT) were really rocking! And we got an extension and everything. So what happened?" "You want the truth, little aphid? You can't handle the truth!" Wu snorted as he slammed down one of the soft drinks. Soda splashed over the side and onto the table. Rob shook a few drops off his sleeve and continued feeding his pet. Wu continued his tirade. "Seacouver used to be a wonderful town -- best of both worlds, gateway to two countries, more lattes per square block than any other city in Generic Northwestern State. *Now* we're overrun with weirdos." He took a swig and almost knocked over the large soda cup. "I'm tellin' ya. Vampires here, aliens there, swordfights all the time. And electrical storms! The electricity never went out this much when I was a kid." He was really on a roll now. "That's one thing I always hated about Seacouver - all the damn Immortals. 'They live alone,' old Joe said. 'They don't like each others' company.' Horsepuckey! Why, if all the headless bodies buried in Seacouver were to stand up at once, we'd have an overpopulation problem!" "Grandfather -- " Rob tried to interject without success. "I told Joe he shoulda stayed in the book business. 'No,' he says, 'you just watch, it'll be fine, you'll see.' Hey! There he is now! Hey, buddy, I got a few words for you.. ." Rob moved the one remaining full soda aside as Grandfather Wu slammed his fist on the table and the cups wobbled. "Grandfather!" Wu stopped and looked at him. "We don't have permission to use him tonight! We can talk *about* him, but he can't be here unless they say so, and they dragged him off somewhere. Sheesh! Do you really think he'd want to play the banjo when he could be diving for Chronicles?" The old man thought for a moment, then regained his composure. "You have a point, crawling locust." Rob wiped up some of the spilled soda and put the full soda back in front of Wu, not noticing that one corner of the napkin was caught under the cup. ---------------------------------------------------------- "This thing eats so much, it reminds me of a tribble," Rob said, looking at the little critter gobbling down a huge bite of the cold calzone Sandy had made earlier. Above, they thought they heard a muffled thump. "Klingons hate tribbles, you weenie!" a whispered voice came from somewhere. Then they thought they heard a click, like a lock opening. Joanne sighed. "Rob, I'm tired and I have to start paying attention to work again. Do you know how much time this war takes up?" Rob nodded. "Let's end all this, already. The War has gone on long enough. It's time to reveal what we found on the CD to everyone." "Methos will probably survive this, although it might cost him his reputation," Rob said, "but I thought you were worried about Duncan. He's in it just as much as Methos is, but he never knew the CD even existed. That's sort of not fair..." "Duncan Schmunkan. He says he can't go out with me until Thanksgiving. I bet he'll have lots of free time after *this* little tidbit gets out." Rob and Joanne made their way to the karaoke machine with the CD-ROM they'd taken from the MFW computer room that morning, leaving a still-shaking Grandfather Wu alone with the large, full cup of soda, the anchovy calzone, and the little wombat, who was now behaving in a most odd manner. ----------------------------------------------- To be continued. -- Joanne (jcurme@pyramid.com) K'immie Brigade Leader for the First HL Gathering