HLFIC-L Gathering Tuesday (Part 2 of 3) =========================================================================== Date: Thu, 21 Mar 1996 01:17:21 From: Toni C. Holm Subject: WAR: Part I Pissant Grad Students Take Control Note: This is the correct and complete version. I was advised by our achivist (who's advice I respect enormously) to post this to correct the problem. Again, my apologies -- I promise to never make three mistakes with the same post again and I will go to bed now... ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ---------------------- Pissant Grad Students Take Control Part I - Mild Mannered Watcher or Raving Maniac? Tuesday 3/19/96 Mid-day Seacouver Four Seasons Hotel - MFW HQ from the now demented minds of deb Charlyne Toni Deb was just getting ready to lay down and take a well-deserved nap (this co-ordinating was hard work even if those posts don't show it!) when the annoying chirping of her cell phone caught her attention. She looked around the hotel room, trying to remember where she'd left the damn thing. She finally located it underneath a pile of clothing and answered it. "Carol Ann! You guys finally made it? Exactly where are you? Pulling up in front of the hotel! Thanks for the advance notice...what do you mean, how many faction members are around? He's *still* drunk? *sigh* Okay, I'll see who I can round up. See you downstairs in a few." Deb ended the call and headed out the door. Time to raise the troops! She started pounding on doors on her way to the elevator, trying to let everyone know that their favorite Immortal had arrived. Someone knocked on Cindy's door, startling her out of her reading. "Who is it?" she called. "It's Deb. Methos is here!" Cindy jumped out of bed. Adam was here at last! Then she paused. She couldn't leave her lap-top just sitting there. Not with the information it now contained. Admittedly, once she had the chance to talk to Adam alone, she was probably going to be giving the Pissant Grad Students the CD, but she still wasn't planning to tell them that she had made her own copy, which meant that she had to keep her computer out of the network they had set up. It would be better not to let them know her lap-top existed. She hastily exited out of the database, turned off the computer and threw the blanket over it, before running out of the room. Deb was still knocking on doors, letting everyone know that Methos was here at last when she remembered that Toni had said she was going to the pool for a workout. Hopefully, she remembered to take her cell phone with her. Deb dialed the number and waited. Toni's head surfaced to hear the sound of voices raised in altercation in the distance. One of the voices sounded awfully familiar. She pulled herself out of the pool & looked over the parapet to see a colorful cab followed by a long black limo pull in to the turnout in front of the hotel. At the same time she heard her cell phone go off on the lounger inside on which she'd placed it. "Damn", she thought, "can't the man ever do what he's told?" She jumped back in the water & swam under the curtain inside, gathering her clothes, and answering the phone as she went. "Yes Deb", yes, I know -- Christ, I could hear them from the pool!" No, just get down there and try and keep them from getting arrested before I get there..." she thought... As she was dressing she snuck a quick glance through the window to the street below. The scene below revealed a bright yellow and green rogue cab (had to be as Seacouver's cab association is tightly controlled and all the official cabs were blue & white), a long black limo and Adam "Methos" Pierson surrounded by an apparent mass of small women arguing with the turbaned driver of the cab. Toni pulled on the last of her clothes, gave a quick smile to her new friend Lisa who was staffing the health club desk and headed for the elevator dialing Charlyne's room as she ran. "Charlyne", she said urgently as the dark blonde woman answered, "We've got trouble. They're here, but we need a distraction in the lobby fast, can you handle it? I know you said you could make a lot of noise on demand.... OK, go for it!" Toni reached the lobby door, just in time to see Methos leaning in the cab window shouting drunkenly in what sounded like Farsi. , she thought knowing the language was a complicated one in which to swear.... The cab driver appeared to not understand a word. (Not surprising since very few Sikh cab drivers speak Farsi) A short, red haired woman in a Queen shirt had alighted from the limo and began to pull on the immortal's long duffle coat apparently assisted by small furry brown creature. More women piled from the limo and began helping a drunken woman with auburn bangs, brown eyes and dangling Mickey & Minnie Mouse earrings from the cab. Methos continued to shout imprecations at the hapless driver now in something that sounded vaguely like ancient Summarian (since no-one knows exactly what this sounds like, you'll have to use your imaginations). She spotted Deb talking urgently with very short woman with a long braid struggling to direct the luggage that was being emptied from the limo. "That must be Carol Ann", Toni thought attempting to identify the other women spilling from the limo by their descriptions. As she looked away there was a groan from Miracle, who'd given up pulling on Methos' shirt. The turbaned driver had stepped from his cab a pulled out a small ornamental dagger and was advancing on our drunken immortal. It hardly looked lethal, especially to an immortal, but enough was enough. "That's it", she shouted, voice carrying above the chaos, "Miracle -- talk to the driver -- everyone else -- tackle him gang!" The Four Seasons staff who had been trying to help unload the cars stood frozen for a moment (things like this just don't happen in five star hotels every day..) and then one moved toward the red "911" phone. Just in time, there was an earsplitting ... uh.. well.. a "holler" from the lobby. ------------- continued in Part II -------------------------- =========================================================================== Date: Thu, 21 Mar 1996 02:44:08 From: Charlyne Linda Walker Subject: WAR: Part II- Pissant Grad Students Take Control Pissant Grad Students Take Control Part II - Anybody See my Ring? Tuesday 3/19/96 Mid-day Seacouver Four Seasons Hotel - MFW HQ from the now demented minds of deb Charlyne Toni ----------------------- continued from Part I ---- "EEEEEEEEEEEEK! Nobody move! My one caret diamond engagement ring is missing. It must be found immediately! Thank God it was not the large ring, but never-the-less, it must be found! A handsome reward to the one who helps me find it. Money is no object, it is the symbol of my husbands love." Everyone in the lobby stopped and stared at the tall brunette wearing a hat with a veil covering most of her face and screeching at the top of her lungs. *Good, though Charlyne to herself, now that I have their attention lets give them something to work on while the others spirit Adam to our floor. The things I do for Methos, he just better appreciate it!* She screamed again for effect, and then said at the top of her lungs, "I felt my one caret flawless diamond engagement ring fly off of my finger as I was walking by the planters next to the windows overlooking the rear of the hotel. It must be somewhere in the plant beds right in front of those windows, Please, you must help me find it" At this announcement the lobby broke into pandemonium. *It never hurts to stroke the fire of greed when you want to keep everyone occupied.* Charlyne though to herself. Everyone that heard the announcement was now combing through the plant beds on the side of the lobby farthest from the front door. The Four Seasons may never be the same! The hotel staff present in the lobby were divided into two groups, those who were trying to find the diamond and those where attempting to keep the diamond seekers from tearing all of the plants out of the lobby. You could probably drive a train load of elephants bound for the circus through the lobby right now and no one would be the wiser. Charlyne looked out front and noticed that everything seemed to be calm now. She decided that now was a good time to exit stage left before someone found the big *costume* diamond ring that was buried somewhere in the plant bed. As she was making her way out of the pandemonium one of the bystanders noticed her leaving. He caught her as she was making her get away. "Aren't you going to wait and see if they find it?" he asked. "No, I have an appointment I must get to. Tell the front desk to call Mrs. Jacobs when they find it, thanks" He nodded as Charlyne slipped away into the stairwell. *Sorry Mrs. Jacobs, if you are registered here* she thought as she made her way to the factions HQ. Later that day one of the cleaning crew was excited to find a perfectly good brunette wig in one of the public ladies rooms... ----------------------- continued in Part III ---- =========================================================================== Date: Wed, 20 Mar 1996 23:45:21 From: Toni C. Holm Subject: WAR: Part III - Pissant Grad Students Take Control Pissant Grad Students Take Control Part III - The MFW's Hoist their Leader Tuesday 3/19/96 Mid-day Seacouver Four Seasons Hotel - MFW HQ from the now demented minds of deb Charlyne Toni ----------------continuous from part II ----------------------- Deb looked up from her discussion with Carol Ann at Toni's shout to discover that everything was out of control. Miracle headed over towards the advancing cab driver and the rest of the remaining faction surged towards Methos, intent on getting him into the hotel quietly--hah! fat chance of that now!--or at least before they attracted any more attention than they already had. The bevy of mostly short women quickly surrounded Methos and began urging him towards the the hotel entrance. He was not a happy camper. "Who the hell are you people? I'm not going anywhere with you!" he said, searching for a way out of all that female flesh. Deb sighed. She'd hoped it wouldn't come to this but she'd had a sneaking suspicion when Carol Ann had reported his general condition over the past couple of days. She slipped the hypodermic syringe out of her pocket and slipped the cap off the needle. Getting right up next to him, she plunged it into his thigh as his coat flapped in the breeze. The effect was almost instantaneous. One minute, he was standing there arguing and the next he was sinking down at their feet. "Jesus! What did you slip him?" "Is he dead?" "*Now* how are we going to get him inside?" The questions were flying fast and furious from all directions. "I'm not entirely sure what it was. I simply told a friend of mine that I'd need something powerful to subdue a friend who'd been drinking and we didn't need to worry about it being lethal. I'm not sure if he's dead or not--it depends on how much he's really had to drink. Yeah, I know it seems drastic, but it was effective, right? There's enough of us. We should be able to get him inside," Deb tried to respond to all the questions as they came flying at her. "Deb's right -- never mind that now.", Toni said cutting through their questions. "Good job, Deb -- quick, the freight elevator's this way... " Deb nodded, "Okay, everyone gather round. We can do this. He's tall but he can't weigh very much. Heather, maybe you could get between his legs and help hoist him that way. Everyone else find a spot and grab--I saw that Carol Ann! You know what I mean!" The Methos faction surrounded their man and lifted at Deb's count. They began making their way towards the freight elevator--it had been decided that it would be good to attract as little attention as possible and that had already been blown by his rather noisy arrival. Still, every little bit helped. The group struggled under the dead weight they carried until they arrived at the elevator. Miracle had finished up with the cab driver and was holding the elevator for them when they arrived. They crowded themselves inside and dropped their burden. "Now what?" Toni asked. "Straight up to the rooms or shall we stop and drop him in the pool first to try and sober him up?" She grinned widely at the thought. "Well, normally I'd say to drop him in the pool, but I don't know how long this reaction is going to last. Let's just take him up to the rooms and post a guard on him. And clean out the minibar before he can get to it," Deb replied. "And let's try and keep the two of them apart," Carol Ann said, nodding her head in Joan's direction. "I think she's matched him drink for drink. I can't understand how she's still standing." "You don't understand," Joan replied. "We've been through the same thing..." "I know. I've heard it before. Repeatedly, for the past two days," Carol Ann muttered. The freight elevator creaked to a stop and the contingent bent down and picked up the still unconscious Immortal. Heaving him up, they proceeded out of the elevator and down the hall. "Where's his room?" someone groaned. "Right here, between Carol Ann's and mine," Deb replied. (Hey, I got to write getting him to his room, you don't think I'm going to put him somewhere else, do you?) (Yes, but who's got all the spare keys, Deb? -- sparring editor's notes...) There's connecting doors on either side so we'll be able to keep an eye on him. We can post someone in the hall also and then we'll have every exit covered." Deb struggled for a moment to get the key card out of her pocket and inserted the keycard in the door. Getting it open, the PGS' struggled inside and dumped Methos on the bed. They looked at each other. "Well, we finally got him here. Now what?" =========================================================================== Date: Sat, 23 Mar 1996 11:30:05 From: LC Krakowka Subject: WAR: MFW: Here comes the Cavalry Hi folks- Carol Ann nicely added me to the loop after Heidi and Toni talked me into getting involved, so...here's how I got to Seacouver... Lisa had just pulled into the driveway from a hard ride at the barn when the phone started to ring. She missed the call, but played the answering machine message right away. "Hi...it's Heidi...this is a long story. Good thing you have been following the posts...we're all in Seacouver now, at the Four Seasons Hotel. Things are beginning to look a bit dicey...call out the Cavalry and get here ASAP." Lisa groaned. She needed a shower and to get these riding clothes off, but there was no time. Dropping the dog off at the neighbors, she grabbed her lap top and wallet--so she'd arrive smelling like a horse and dressed in boots and breeches...at least she'd get there. Question was, what good with the cavalry be without horses? She'd work out the details later. Maybe she'd just have the mare shipped to her once she got there. A quick phone call in the car revealed that there was a direct flight out of Syracuse in two hours. She'd buy new clothes upon arrival. As the plane lifted off, she buzzed the flight attendant. "I need a big glass of water, and a beer to go along. Not anything domestic either...the good stuff." Lisa stretched--airplane seats leave no leg room for those close to six feet. It would be a long flight. She opened up her laptop and began to scroll through the mountains of back mail, trying to get a grasp of what was happening. With a sigh, she wondered if Methos would be sober when she got there. From past events, it didn't appear likely. Hours later, she arrived at the hotel just in time to see her cohorts carrying an unconscious immortal into the freight elevator. She laughed...the poor man. What must he be thinking with all these strange women swarming around him? After a brief *discussion* with the front desk, Lisa convinced them to give her a room and went up to the 20th floor. Introductions to the old guy would likely happen soon, the least she could do before hand is try to clean the manure off her boots. -- LC Krakowka/hck1@cornell.edu "I came for the food." -Duncan MacLeod MFW Cavalry "We're tougher than we look" =========================================================================== Date: Wed, 20 Mar 1996 15:33:28 From: Jill Gillham Subject: WAR: Where: Joe's Bar When: Tuesday Lunchtime Who Jill Spetoskey Jill stared at the stove for a few minutes. The morning had been fun. She'd found herself a stamp with the Watcher's seal and inkpad, and had amused herself by stamping everything in sight, including her arms with the seal. Sanitation, I'm supposed to wash my hands before I touch food here, aren't I? With a little soap, she started to scrub, digging a little more glass out from under her fingernails, but the watcher stamps she'd put on her wrists wouldn't come off. She figured it must be indellable ink. (A hint of a ghost horse whinnies in the distance) Scrubbed up, she looked into the fridge and found: nothing. Not even an old ketchup bottle. Looking around the kitchen, she saw a phonenumber for Spyglass Pizza posted near the door. "Hey, does anyone out there object to pepperoni?" She yelled out the doorway. A few mumbles greeted her query. Taking that as a maybe, she called the pizza place and placed an order for one pepperoni, one cheese, and one deluxe pizza. That obnoxious southerner probably wanted pineapple only or something, but let her complain then. In the meantime, she figured she'd serve up the cake and call it the happy hour buffet or something. After dividing up the chocolate torte into the right number of pieces, she reentered the bar proper and passed out slices, mumbling something about the food not being available so she was getting free pizza for the group instead. After all, the city of Seacouver had told her that they were reembursing her for expenses while she was stuck here, and feeding DUNCAN was definitely a necessary expense. "Duncan?" Tallish dark and handsome nodded at her. "Did Enmare get a chance to pass along the message?" "Yes, and we're trying to figure out a way to keep Anne and Mary safe." Jill paused, trying to figure out how much to tell the group. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw one of the women play with the little drink flag. It seemed to start to grow before her eyes until it was a full size flag with pole. "I gotta get more sleep" Jill muttered and willed the flag back to normal size. "What was that?" Sandy asked. "Nothing. Anyways, we've been planning on how to lay out a dragnet for the Hortons." "The Hortons plural?" "Actually, there's three of them, James, Peter, and Pete, but Pete's really on our side so he doesn't really count. You can tell Pete by the fishing hat. The musicians at the Christening are ours. Joe's going to be there as himself and I'll be there in disguise. We just want everyone keeping an eye out for the Hortons. The man's so slippery, it's like trying to grab a greased pig." "And where do we come in?" There was a little hesitation in the other midwesterner's voice. So they don't trust us yet either, Jill noted. "More eyes make lighter and more thorough work." Jill started passing out earpieces, mikes and battery packs to the DFW. "Where'd you get these?" The southerner was suspicous. "I ref track meets part time. It's hard enough juggling a clipboard, pencil, tape measure, and bullhorn at once, much less worrying about a walkie-talkie that is really necessary for coordinating big meets. at the end of last season, I wound up talking the set home for cleaning and storage." Jill made a few demonstrations of how to run the mike cord along one arm. "And remember to use channel A. It's the only one that functions on this particular set." Jill failed to mention that the Mortals were in fact, reserving channel D for their own use. Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. "Pizza delivery!" "C'mon in, the door's open." A thought occured to Jill and she added in a lower voice. "Stash the electronics under the table. You never know who the delivery boy really is." She opened the door, and exchanged money for pizza, and had just started to turn away. "Stop!" Over the pizza boxes, she noticed the man had a Watcher's tattoo. Spyglass Pizza. Great, I miss the obvious. "are you with da people with da dog? If so, I've got a message for you." He pulled out a small baggie filled with fur. And one more thing...... Jill Marie jilkey@grfn.org jilkey@umich.edu http://web.grfn.org/~jilkey/ /leave a nightlight on inside the birdhouse in your soul/ =========================================================================== Date: Tue, 19 Mar 1996 14:17:50 From: Kevin Glover Subject: WAR: A Conversation With Kit From: Kevin Glover of the Amanda Army date: Tuesday 1pm location: Seacouver Inn I stood outside the door of Kit's room, debating my options. I didn't want to reveal too much, not this early in the game. But some things simply had to be brought out into the open. I knocked on the door. "Yeah, hold on." A moment later, Kit opened the door, looking exhausted. "Anybody I know?" I asked him. "I beg your pardon?" "You won. Was it an Immortal that I know about?" He took a moment to digest what I was saying. "You know. A couple of hours ago you weren't even sure we existed and now you know that I'm Immortal. How?" "Correction, a couple of hours ago, I pretended not to know that Immortals exist. The key word there is pretend. Although I wasn't sure that you were one until I talked to Randy. He told me about your 'alergy' and I'm pretty good at putting two and two together. So, was it anyone I knew?" "No. Just some upstart kid claiming to be a MacLeod. I Think he said his name was Quinten. Now, what do you want?" I took a seat on the side of the bed and told him to relax. "I'm not here to cause you any trouble. I just want to know about you and Amanda. When we mentioned her name earlier you looked upset. Why?" "Not upset really. I mean, we worked our differnces out about six months ago. I just have this instinctive reaction to her name. When you've hated someone for over a hundred years, its hard to get over it." "But everything's okay now?" "Yeah, why?" "We've contacted her. She's on her way." "Is there something going on, that I should now about?" "Probably. Did Mac tell you anything about the Watchers and The Hunters?" He shook his head no. I sighed and launched into the full tale, including Wombats and Horton's return. When I finished, he was pacing the room angrily. "All right," he said. "I'm in. When's Amanda supposed to get here?" "Tonight." "Give me a time and place, I'll meet you there. I've got a couple of calls to make." ************************************* I went back down to the hotel lounge, where the rest of the Amanda faction was waiting for me. I took a seat and said, "well, we've got an immie on our side." The all looked at me puzzled. "Okay," Rachel said, "I'll bite. Who?" I filled them in on my coversation with Kit, and after a few minutes of excited buzzing, we settled in and started to develop our plan of action. ***************************************************************************** * Kevin Glover kpglover@concentric.net * My three Favorite * * President of the Elizabeth Gracen Fan Club * things in the known * * (now in the embryonic stage) * universe: * ******************************************************* * * "Whatdaya mean, there can be only ONE?" * 1. Rum * * Zaphod Beeblebrox * 2. The Ocean * ******************************************************* 3. Amanda's Legs * * "Deja deja deja vu, believe * * * it and it will come true" * not necessarily in * * Jimmy Buffett * that order :) * ***************************************************************************** =========================================================================== Date: Tue, 19 Mar 1996 13:46:48 From: Jennifer Grouling Subject: WAR: Too Much Tea Tues. 1:00 p.m. Jenny drove down the highway toward Seacouver. This was turning out to be a much longer drive than she had anticipated. Scott was asleep in the seat next to her. *Just like a man* she thought, *Always falling asleep on you.* In fact, he'd been sleeping most of the way, which meant there was only one thing keeping Jenny awake: Iced Tea. Which meant only one thing: The brakes screeched as she pulled into the third gas station within the last hour and a half. Scott stirred briefly, "Not again," he groaned. She slammed the car door and ran into the little beat up Amoco station. A burly man with a bristly beard and a skull tattoo stood at the counter. Jenny gulped. "Could I have the keys to the restroom, please?" The man snorted, "What for?" "What do you think? I've been drinking tea, okay?" The employee revealed a one-toothed-smile and handed her a restroom key on a big wooden key chain. "Thanks." At this rate, it would be sometime Weds. when they finally arrived in Seacouver! =========================================================================== Date: Wed, 20 Mar 1996 07:48:46 From: Scott Cover Subject: WAR: So far so good 3/19 Tuesday 1:00 PM Riding to Seacouver I have them all fooled so far. My co-workers think I've been abducted by a cute and affectionate kidnapper, and Jenny thinks I've been asleep; judging by the way she is talking to herself. "Humph, asleep. Just like a man to fall asleep on you." she said as she pulled into yet another gas station, probably to use the bathroom again. I have never seen anyone so affected by tea. I have her lulled into thinking I'm asleep, but I've been reviewing my plans and keeping an eye out for dark blue sedans. The real test will be when I get to Seacouver and see if I can fool all of the flagwavers. Shouldn't be too hard, most of them will be busy with their immortal of choice, while I work behind the scenes on a couple of schemes. The weasel may or may not actually be involved, but I have been known to stir up strife on occassion, it just has never been traced back to me. I'll check with the weasel later to see if she has any further information. (Glancing into the backseat) Yes, I thought I caught the dull shine of a ferret in my peripheral vision, Wendy either knows what is going on or is keeping tabs on the war. "It must be the blood that draws them." I muttered. I closed my eyes to slits again as Jenny finally emerged from the roadside bathroom. I just hope we get there before the fireworks start. Scott Cover whose loyalties shall remain hidden for now. scover@icontrol.anza.com =========================================================================== Date: Thu, 21 Mar 1996 11:11:17 From: Carol Ann Liddiard Subject: WAR: When: Tuesday, March 19, 1996, early afternoon Where: The Four Seasons Hotel, MFW Headquarters "Well, we finally got him here. Now what?" Everyone in the room turned to the tired, short woman with the long braid. Shaking off the fatigue of the *very* long trip, Carol Ann straightened up (yes, I *am* standing up!). "Okay guys, we need to get organized. The network is in place?" Heather nodded. "I presume we have this whole floor?" Toni nodded. "Do we have a present for the Christening?" Dead silence greeted the question. "Any clue of Wendy's whereabouts? Elizabeth's? The Chronicle? No? Okay, let's get organized. Heidi, wake up!" The brunette, now one of the tallest people in the room with Methos comatose, snapped awake. "Yes?" Carol Ann dug around in the seemingly bottomless pockets of her favorite baggy black coat. From the depths she pulled a cell phone which she tossed to Heidi. "Your dogs are scent hounds, right? Get them here, they may be helpful in tracking down Wendy and Elizabeth." Heidi nodded and exited the room. Looking down at the prone immortal, Carol Ann sighed for what seemed the thousanth time since the WAR began. "Okay, he's going to be uncomfortable sleeping like that, we need to get his clothes off. WAIT!!!" Her yell stopped the crowded surge towards the bed. "Deb, since you've done such an excellent job holding down the fort, you get to strip him down. And for goddess' sake, wipe your chin!" Turning away, but not before she got a glimpse of silk boxers, she addressed the raptly staring crowd. "He's pretty helpless in this state, we need to guard him constantly. Cindy," she spotted the red-head hovering at the back of the crowd, "you have the first watch. Deb," she turned around just in time to prevent the boxers from joining the heap of clothes on the floor. "Deb, that's enough for now!" With the help of some of their taller members, she succeeded in pulling Deb off of Methos. "Let's adjourn this to my room. Cindy, guard!" The sea of short women (with the occasional tall head hovering over the rest) moved into Carol Ann's room. "Okay," she continued, as Deb whimpered quietly, "we need to do two things, meet up with the other faction leaders, and get a present for the damn quickening. I suggest we go to Joe's. Let's move, people!". she thought as the group headed out towards the elevator. Pulling out yet another cell phone, she tossed it to Cindy as she passed Methos' door. "Call if there's trouble, okay?" As she followed the crowd, one thought stayed in her head. Carol Ann grinnyp@aros.net | grinnyp@xmission.com | GrinnyP@aol.com Co-Chief Flagwaver, Methos Publisher, "Richie Forever" and "The Methos Chronicles" * HeLLLion Extraordinaire * PSEB * List-Goddess, PWFC * http://www.aros.net/~grinnyp =========================================================================== Date: Thu, 21 Mar 1996 12:23:57 From: Deb Palmer Subject: WAR: Whimper War: Whimper coinciding with Carol Ann's untitled post, which takes place: When: Tuesday, March 19, 1996, early afternoon Where: The Four Seasons Hotel, MFW Headquarters >Looking down at the prone immortal, Carol Ann sighed for what seemed the > thousanth time since the WAR began. "Okay, he's going to be uncomfortable > sleeping like that, we need to get his clothes off. WAIT!!!" Her yell > stopped the crowded surge towards the bed. "Deb, since you've done such an > excellent job holding down the fort, you get to strip him down. And for > goddess' sake, wipe your chin!" Wiping the drool from her chin, deb quickly set to work stripping the clothes from the unconscious Immortal. Just as she was getting to the good part, she heard > Deb," she turned around just in time to prevent the boxers > from joining the heap of clothes on the floor. "Deb, that's enough for > now!" With the help of some of their taller members, she succeeded in > pulling Deb off of Methos. "Let's adjourn this to my room. Cindy, guard!" "Damn, Carol Ann! You never let me have any fun. I just wanted to take a peek. Okay, everyone can let go now. I promise I'll be good." she thought to herself, following the others into Carol Ann's room. deb "Make mine Methos!" he's got me tingling in places I didn't even know I had! palmer@crpl.cedar-rapids.lib.ia.us =========================================================================== Date: Mon, 1 Apr 1996 11:28:53 From: Kim Bjarkman Subject: WAR: Operation: Aardvark Nightwatch Operation: Aardvark Nightwatch By: Bob J. Aardvark When: Tuesday 3/19, early afternoon (Between "Lurking Again" and "Virtues of War: Part II") Where: The Four Seasons Hotel, Bob J. Aardvark's room Why: Revenge, precautions, free soap A grimace settled on Bob's features as she huddled on the floor of her hotel bathroom with her ear pressed to a glass held against the wall. She was missing "The Love Boat" for this. She cursed quietly to herself in Government Binding Theory. It was her favorite episode -- the one where the couple comes on board and breaks up due to a colossal misunderstanding, until dinner with the Captain straightens everything out and all hearts are mended. A sucker for a happy ending. But, when duty called, Bob knew what she had to do. Her kin had been cruelly wronged, deeply humiliated, and forced to dress unfashionably, and she would have revenge. So, for the first time in a fortnight, Bob had switched off the set. Well, one of them; it was a start. She always travelled with several on hand. The group meetings had been helping, a little, and she was down to just three TVs, two vcrs, and a laptop, for short trips. Bob averted her eyes from the other two sets, which were chirping out cheery songs from "Three's Company" and some Julie Andrews film. She drew a deep breath, and focused her mind on her mission. She'd been up all night waiting for this, for 3 nights running. She was on her fifteenth coffee since... she'd started counted again. She was wired. There were mischievous forces at work, namely, The Lurkers, and this time they had to be stopped. They had simply gone... too far... the last time. And they had grown far too powerful with that tesseract thing-a-majig and the capacity to control the space-time continuum. They could not be allowed to enter this war unwatched. An image flashed in Bob's mind, but it was too horrible to contemplate. She struggled to suppress the pictures of a world where all immortals, good and evil alike, traded in their trenchcoats for tight polyester suits. The immortals would all have to flock to Amanda for lessons in creative katana space utilization, Bob reckoned. Duncan's Disco. Joe's Medallion Emporium and Organic Health-o-rama. Richie in bell-bottoms. No, it was unthinkable. But, perhaps it could be prevented. Maybe, in Seacouver, it wasn't too late. As soon as Bob heard a rustling through the walls from the bathroom next-door, her mind shifted back to thoughts of the task at hand. She knew that The Lurkers would be setting to work on Methos' shower sooner or later. It made perfect sense. It was sure to be their next move, after they'd trailed Duncan. They were efficient and swift, and they knew what would sell. Plus, they couldn't resist the lure of an immortal's shower. But perhaps the noise was just Adam or one of the MFWs making a mad dash for the toilet. It had sounded like quite a party going on over there. She listened. No flushing, no... retching sounds. Just a few clinking noises. "Ooh, the nerve. And I'll bet they skip town before making copies for everyone else." Bob was seething. She was scheming. She was bloody mad. First, she would have to infiltrate the Lurker's hotel room. Easily done. She could get in as the aardvark. Bob often had to stop and wonder just *what* extreme measures her master had been using at that party when she had brought Bob over to the cause. It had never fully been explained to her, but TPTB had deemed it, and such was Bob's fate. She rushed to the phone and rang room service. "Yes, I'm calling from the Adam Pierson party, and I'd like a special delivery made to the room of a Ms. Rastro and Ms. Maddog Lurker. I've left a few items at the front desk which I'd like brought up, along with some... room service. Do you have cheese plates? Oh, and candles?" * * * * * "Room service." No answer. The young man rapped on the door once again, slightly louder, before letting himself in, and with him a small, round, besnouted grey mammal which was crouching beneath his cart, obscured by the crisp white linen that draped its edges. Inside the room, the young man prompted again, "Ladies? Room service." He had distinctly heard a shuffling sound. Perhaps they were in the bathroom and didn't wish to be disturbed. Disappointed, the servant turned to go but found himself face to face with Bob blocking the door. "Um...." He appeared a bit disconcerted at first, then relieved. Bob looked like a big tipper. Looks are, of course, deceptive. He composed himself. "I have a delivery for a the Lurker party, with 'regards from their Cousin Bob.'" Bob attempted a polite smile. It came off as more of an impatient sneer. "That would be me." "Are you sure this is what you ordered, Ma'am? It looks like there must be some mistake here." Poor lad, he was definitely worried about his tip. Cousin Bob assured him that the contents of cart would do quite nicely. She glanced at his hand outstretched almost hesitantly, yet wide open, before her. Bob groaned inaudibly. She reached into the pocket of her black silk jacket and gave the young man a tootsie pop. A look of astonished disappointment came over his face. "Don't knock it, kid. There's a special treat in there, just for you." Bob winked. "Or, you could have some of *this*, if you'd rather." She picked up a jar from a nearby table and thrust it towards him menacingly. The young man took one look at the jar then turned on his heel and was out the door in a flash. By half-way down the hall, his jog had broken into a run. "Cousin" Bob surveyed the contents of the cart. Everything looked perfect. A bottle of Bailey's Irish Creme on ice. A gourmet cheese plate. An array of imported teas and a pitcher of whole creme. A larger pitcher of milk. Two candles stood perched amidst the array of dairy products, lit and blazing brilliantly. Finally, two roses and a card. Well, they weren't so much roses, as they were two very thorny sticks with a few flimsy white petals sticking clumsily out of the top. Bob picked up the card and read it over to herself: "Ladies, please accept these tokens of my... eternal... friendship. A gentleman from the... Century." A thin smile spread over Cousin Bob's lips. She opened the bottle of Bailey's and inhaled deeply. "Ah, lovely stuff!" she noted, relishing the delightful substance's rich scent, as she walked over to the bathroom sink and let it pour down the drain. She carefully emptied the milk pitcher into the bottle and resealed it, replacing it on the ice. * * * * * Now that she was finally inside The Lurker's hotel room, Bob couldn't resist the urge to have a quick look around. Her time was limited, but curiosity compelled her to... browse for a few minutes. First, the luggage. One of the Lurkers had arrived by plane, and she had brought a tacky paisley suitcase that lay flopped on the floor. Bob flipped it open and shuddered. The bright colors made her stomach turn. Polyester pants, halter tops... it looked like The Lurkers had been on a very extensive tour of the 1970s in their recent adventures. She wondered if they hadn't suffered enough. If The Lurkers where sporting this sort of clothing around the hotel, they certainly wouldn't remain anonymous for long. Maybe they had left their valuable collection of Immortal "surveillance" videos unguarded? Bob rather doubted that. The Lurkers were far too clever. But not clever enough to make a habit of humiliating a 2000 year old immortal and get away with it indefinitely. Finding no sign of any videos, or even any taping equipment, after rifling frantically through the contents of the suitcase (video withdrawal tremors were setting in at the mere thought), Bob clenched her teeth and tossed the bag aside. She had a mission to complete. She may not have found the tapes, but she had already found one thing of great importance. Her eyes gleamed with delight as she drew a tall, dark bottle from under the cart. She had managed to smuggle it in while in her aardvark form, but it had not been an easy task. Her hands trembled slightly as she twisted open the cap. Just a whiff of the sticky sweet contents sent her senses reeling. Fumbling next with the lid of the large jar she had lifted from the table and used to scare away the room service attendant, she turned her head away violently as the stench reached her. Cousin Bob forced herself to turn back and face the jar of Vegemite. Pleasure swept back across her features instantly as she lifted the bottle of Ribena and tilted it lovingly, letting its contents ooze into the jar and coat the Vegemite, smothering the revolting substance. That would certainly wake Rastro up when she went for her breakfast the next morning. And the accursed stuff would not be a threat to any other immortals or... cousins for the duration of the war. There would be no etherizing unsuspecting young Richie with the stuff as a means into his shower now. Cousin Bob could not afford to waste any more time. She busily set about the finishing touches. Humming to herself -- damn, why couldn't she get that "Brady Bunch" theme tune out of her head -- she fluffed the pillows on the beds and gingerly replaced the chocolate mints that had been placed there with sterile hotel hospitality with individually wrapped Reese's Peanut Butter Cups. Finally, she slipped into the bathroom and unfolded the neatly tucked corners of the toilet paper rolls, giggling maniacally. She clogged up the shower drain with wombat fur she'd lint-brushed off her jacket, and she nicked all the free samples. She was really beginning to enjoy herself, thinking of how all these... minor... inconveniences would set back The Lurkers in their plotting. It's the little annoyances that can really make all the difference in the fine art of tormenting -- enemy or protegee alike. , Bob mused. She plopped herself on the edge of the bathtub and took a swig from the Ribena bottle, lost in her thoughts, Uncle's soothing voice playing in her mind. Then a faint noise brought her to her senses, and her mood shifted abruptly from wicked satisfaction to irritation and extreme annoyance. Her brows furrowed. What would Wendy advise? Where the hell *was* Wendy? Reluctantly, she morphed into the aardvark. Before the source of the sound could be identified, she fell through a plot hole and crashed onto a hard, cold floor in a dark room. Tough skin or not, aardvark Bob was pissed. (In-jokes? What in-jokes?) --------------- Bob J Aardvark -who resents working the day shift- Reachable at: flowper@omni.cc.purdue.edu =========================================================================== Date: Thu, 21 Mar 1996 19:34:25 From: Joanne Curme Subject: WAR: I Should Have Named Them Fluffy And Snowball "You don't tell deliberate lies, but sometimes you have to be evasive." -- Margaret Thatcher I Should Have Named Them Fluffy And Snowball Tuesday, 2 pm by Joanne Curme When Joanne got back to her hotel that afternoon, there was a message waiting for her at the front desk: "Please see the concierge immediately." She noticed hotel employees looking at her and talking to each other as she passed them. Self-consciously checking the buttons on her blouse and wiping her nose, she went to his station but it was empty. Long orange hairs covered the desktop and chair, almost like...no, that wasn't possible. Then someone called her name and she saw a bloody finger beckoning her from a door behind the check-in counter. "I assume these are yours?" the concierge inquired icily. Joanne looked behind him and saw her beloved cats, Iniki and Panzer, in an airline travel container. Judging from the yowls coming from the cage, they were *not* happy. Neither were any of the other staff in the room, judging by the assorted bandages, ice packs, and iodine bottles that were being handed around. Wordlessly she read the note the concierge gave her: Joanne, I'm so sorry -- I've got to go out of town and can't take care of the kitties any more. They've been wonderful. All the vets are full here and nobody else can cover for me. I knew you wouldn't mind. Sorry again. -- CA Joanne closed her eyes and breathed a silent prayer for patience. "You know, of course, that animals are not allowed here," he stated flatly. "I'm sorry. I wasn't expecting them." She thought for a moment. "Are there any hotels in the area that do allow pets?" "Only the Four Seasons. We've referred several patrons to them this week." "Fine, then. Could you please call and reserve me a room for the next 11 days? Something nice, with a good view." The concierge looked at her, applying pressure to his torn finger. "Gladly." * * * * * * * * * * * * Joanne arrived at the Four Seasons, struggling with her suitcase and the two cats in the carrier. She hefted the cage up the stairs and went directly to the check-in counter. "Hi. I believe you have a room for me?" The clerk checked the book. "I'm sorry, ma'am, we're full." "Hmm. Someone should have left a message for the reservation. A room on an upper floor for someone with pets? There are a few of us here, I believe." "Ah, would that be the 20th floor?" Joanne smiled, thinking how wonderful the view would be from a room that high. "Yes. Thanks." The clerk rolled his eyes. "Oh. *That* message. Yes, we do have a room for you. Lisa!" he called to the blond amazon waiting in the foyer. "Please take madame's luggage to the 20th floor." "And how much is the room?" Joanne asked. "The message said it's already paid for." "Thanks," Joanne said. , she thought, . She hummed to herself as Lisa effortlessly lifted 30 pounds of cat onto the trolley. * * * * * * * * * * * * Joanne opened the door to the travel carrier and the two cats cautiously sniffed the carpet, tested it with their paws, then stepped out. After a few minutes Iniki was curled up in the sink in the bar and Panzer, unable to find a computer keyboard or remote control, had sat down on the phone. She was about to call Rob when she heard someone running down the hall and pounding on all the doors, shouting that the meatballs were here. Shrieking voices filled the hall and the walls shook like every person on the 20th floor was leaping for joy. She gathered her things and went out to look for cat food and litter. Down in the lobby, Joanne tried to ask the clerk for a cab but all the hotel workers (and most of the guests) were digging up the plants on the far side of the lobby while a woman in a veil wailed wildly. Out in the passenger dropoff zone were the partiers from her floor and -- Methos, who was shouting his thanks to the cab driver in Farsi. . The cab driver started to offer Methos his ornamental dagger in gratitude for the overflowing compliments . Just then Methos looked at her and winked. Joanne grinned back; this had worked out just fine, even with the unexpected arrival of the cats. "TAKE HER TO THE BEST PET STORE IN TOWN AND I'LL PAY YOU BACK DOUBLE WHATEVER SHE SPENDS!" Methos shouted at the turbaned man. "YES!! I WILL BE HONORED TO SERVE A FRIEND OF THE OLD ONE" he shouted back. "I WOULD BE HONORED EVEN MORE IF YOU WOULD ACCEPT MY DAGGER AS A GIFT" "NO, MY OLD FRIEND, I AM ALREADY INDEBTED TO YOU MORE THAN I CAN REPAY!" Their farewell had reached an alarming crescendo; this obviously disturbed the bevy of women surrounding Methos, who seemed unfamiliar with this arcane oriental custom. Suddenly they leaped as one on Methos. He fought them off valiantly but in the space of a heartbeat, he became limp and sank to the concrete. , Joanne thought as the cab driver closed the door and drove her like a maniac out of the driveway. -- Joanne (jcurme@pyramid.com) K'immie Brigade Leader for the First HL Gathering *--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--* | The universe is full of magical things, patiently waiting | * for our wits to grow sharper. * | -- Eden Phillpotts | *--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--* =========================================================================== Date: Thu, 21 Mar 1996 16:34:28 From: Wendy Kelley Subject: WAR: Virtues of War Part 3 of 3 The Virtues of War Part 3 Tuesday March 19 approx 2:00pm Blues and Jazz. Blues and Jazz. Who wanted to listen to BLUES AND JAZZ! Ms. McCullen kicked the stack of tapes, sending them skidding across the floor. Then she planted a kick at the radio, drawing a painfully highpitched squeal from it. Something rammed against her leg. Mc. McCullen looked down. An aardvark looked up. It hissed something that sounded vaguely like the name 'Charity' then butted her leg again. "Okay, okay," the woman said, lowering herself to the floor. She thoughtfully considered the aardvark for several minutes as it thoughtfully considered her. Funny, but she had somehow failed to miss the plot hole that dropped this animal into the middle of Warehouse 151. But, if it was here, it was obviously here for a reason. Plot holes rarely happened unless there was no other way to get from point a to point b. A plan began to develop in her mind. The aardvark nodded and hissed again. Ms. McCullen picked up the radio. Good, it could record as well as play tapes. The aardvark trundled off and returned with one of the tapes in her mouth. The casing had cracked, but the tape was fine. An hour later.... The aardvark departed the warehouse, tape it it's mouth. _______________ Plot holes, like the katana space in my jacket, are yet another remnant from the In Search of LaCroix adventure on FKFIC-L a few months ago. Use them if you like, but only if there's no other way of getting from point a to point b :) ... Wendy =========================================================================== Date: Sat, 23 Mar 1996 01:22:08 From: Carol Ann Liddiard Subject: WAR: Lurking again By Maddog and Rastro, the Lurkers Time: Tuesday afternoon Place: The Four Seasons Hotel, in the garage Note: This takes place after my untitled post, right after Deb strips Methos down to his Pocahontas boxers. :-) Rastro was doing what she did best (other than eating vegemite), lurking about the underground garage of the Four Seasons Hotel in Seacouver. So far she'd spotted quite a lot of interesting looking people, most of whom were obviously connected with the war in one form or another. A loud crash nearby, accompanied by a familiar "Ow!" and "Bugger!" distracted her from people-watching. Her partner had arrived, and as usual, ended up in a pile of trash. Rastro ran around the wall to discover Maddog, dubbed "AP" for 'accident prone', clambering out of the hotel's dumpster. Luckily it was the 'paper and plastic dumpster', rather than the 'rotting fruit and kitchen scraps dumpster'. "Ewwww. What are you doing in there?" Rastro lent a hand to drag her friend out. "These are the co-ordinates you gave me, stupid!" Maddog was not amused. "Ooops. Sorry." Rastro said, almost sounding sincere. Maddog brushed away a few stray table napkins. "Hey, how come you flew in here instead of tesseracting?" She held up their handy device. "It's the only way to travel." "I got blackmailed," mumbled Rastro. "I'd infiltrated the Methos Faction but they found me out, and they thought a plane might come in handy at some point during the war. So it was either fly up here or they were gonna make me watch endless Baywatch re-runs." "A fate worse than death," agreed Maddog. "We could just tesseract them around." "Not bloody likely!" Ratsro was adamant. "We just spent six months in Love Boat hell 'cause we bent time and space around a two thousand year old immortal. (But that's another story). I don't even want to imagine where we'd end up if we tried it on a 5000 year old one!" Maddog tried to imagine a place worse than the Love Boat. "We'd probably end up on Fantasy Island. So what are we gonna do now?" "I have a cunning plan," said Rastro, leading Maddog over to the van she'd been lurking next to. "Phil's Plumbing" it said on the side. ***** Up in the MFW headquarters, plans were being made. Many short woman with reddish hair, and an occasional tall one with reddish hair, were arguing about what to do next. A knock on the door distracted them. "You expecting anyone?" Cindy asked. "Pizza!" Methos slurred. "Beer!" "Nope," replied Carol Ann, ignoring the hungover immortal. She was starting to suspect it was all an act anyway. She went to the door and opened it cautiously. Two women in overalls stood outside. "Plumbers," said one. "We're here to fix the shower." The other winked at her. "Oh," said Carol Ann, opening the door. "Gang, it's the ." Nods, winks and comments of "Oh, yes, the " accompanied the two "plumbers" as they were shown to the bathroom. "Oi," said Maddog, "does everyone here know who we are?" "Very probably," replied Rastro, setting down her toolbox. "Except Adam. And they all want copies when we're done." "Hey, this was supposed to net us some spare cash! We're not a charity!" Maddog protested. She'd been hoping to buy a new printer with the profits. Which would be much smaller than expected if Rastro kept giving out freebies. "There will be plenty of customers, I'm sure," Rastro told her. "Anyway, we better get to work and get out of here. Sooner or later, someone will insist that Adam takes a shower. Especially if he's gonna show up at the christening tomorrow night." ***** And sooner or later, someone did. But that scene too has been cut in the interests of public morals and the fact that almost everyone in the MFW faction wanted to get in the shower too.... Carol Ann grinnyp@aros.net | grinnyp@xmission.com | GrinnyP@aol.com Co-Chief Flagwaver, Methos Publisher, "Richie Forever" and "The Methos Chronicles" * HeLLLion Extraordinaire * PSEB * List-Goddess, PWFC * http://www.aros.net/~grinnyp =========================================================================== Date: Wed, 20 Mar 1996 01:18:03 From: Doc Anvil Subject: WAR: Do I smell raw sue-age? title: Do I smell Raw Sue-age? Author: Randy Ferrance When: Tuesday Afternoon (3.19) Where: Sanctuary WARNING: THE FOLLOWING POST CONTAINS SUBLIMINAL POTENTIALLY- LIFETHREATENING HORMONE PRODUCING MESSAGES AND SCENES OF PARTIAL DEPOSITION. READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED. ***Just to prove that SenseiRob is *not* the weirdest player in this war....*** Anvil was in the board room, working on yet another pot of coffee. "Why don't you get a nap, sir?" Doreen asked me. "I'm a medical student," I replied automatically. "I don't need sleep. Sleep is not time-effective. I can't learn while I'm alseep." "If you say so." "AND DON'T CALL ME SIR!!" "Yes, sir." The doors suddenly burst open. The outer secretary was in the space where they should have been, apologizing profusely. I had to look down to see my Armani-clad intruder. I closed my eyes and shook my head. "It's okay," I said. "Randy Ferrance alias Anvil alias Doc Anvil alias Anvil Wombat alias That Guy Who Can Peel Oranges With His Tongue?" Had the weasel been talking to Amanda? "Yeah, that'd be me." "Consider yourself served." She handed me a subpeona. "For what?" "Trademark infringement, unauthorized use of a celebrity likeness, dispensing of a Schedule I drug without the proper FDA waiver. That's where we'll start. Though we're talking to Coke right now about refusal to grant equal time." "Excuse me?" "Did you or did you not use the term," she pulled on reading glasses and consulted her yellow pad, "'Mensa Alumnus' in a post?" "Hey, wait a minute-" "What? You thought that Mensa International was just going to let that go? Tsk, tsk. Did you use a literary reference to one James Cagney for the sole purpose of eliciting in the minds of the readers an image of said Mr. Cagney?" "Come on-" The weasel's voice was now a sneer. "And did you or did you not, Mr. With His Tongue, *if that really is your real name*-" "It *isn't*!" "-administer to one Mr. Goon an illegal sedative/hypnotic for the express purpose of-!" The weasel covered his eyes with the back of his hand. "HUMILIATING HIM!?!?!?!?" "Now wait just one sec-" The next few sentences were sprayed across the room by the weasel in less than the amount of time it takes Duncan MacLeod to {WARNING: Potentially offensive analogy follows} display physiological attributes of intense physical attraction. "I'll take that as a yes. Thank you for your sworn, taped statment, see you in court on Monday morning, ten am, your turn to bring the bagels, in the meantime I've petitioned the judge to grant a restraining order to prevent Wombats, International from any further meddlings in the affairs of this war. Thank you, good day, sue early, sue often." She was running for the door. One look from me was all it took for the guard to slam the double mahogany panels shut. "Oh-oh," the weasel whistled lowly. I drew my Beretta and ejected the clip. "Okay, weasel," I said, dropping the polka dotted clip onto the table and pulling one from my pocket with a "No Weasels" symbol on it. I slammed the clip home. "Think I've forgotten those flames you sent about my post, eh?" I pulled back on the slide and let the action thunk forward, driving the first shell into place. "Fat chance." The Doctor-skinned briefcase came up like a shield and my first shot splattered harmlessly against its broad surface. "No, don't! We can talk this out! We can negotiate! We can mediate! We can file "friend of the court briefs"!" THe next shot jarred the case loose and the weasel was off. Damn, but they can move fast. Slippery buggers. I wasted three vases and several picture frames before I had to reload. "Come on and take your medicine, little weasel," I taunted, my face very Jack Nicholson like as I turned slowly, arm outsretched to follow the little critter. She zigged, she zagged. Finally I guessed right. I hit the weasel in the its least vulnerable part: the heart. But my choice of ammunition had, of course, been a wise one. The shot overwhelmed the poor creature. She shrieked, and suddenly reared back on her hind paws, jumping up and down in place, rattling off words almost too fast to hear. "YES, OUR CLIENT KNEW THAT NICOTINE WAS ADDICTIVE SO THEY GREATLY INCREASED THE AMOUNT IN EACH CIGARETTE AND GAVE FREE SAMPLES TO THIRD GRADERS!!! YES, WE KNEW ALL ALONG THAT THE DAMNED THINGS LEAKED, BUT WHAT THE HELL? ALL BOOBS SAG EVENTUALLY, RIGHT? OF COURSE WE KNOW THAT NOT *EVERY* BIRTH DEFECT IS CAUSED BY MALPRACTICE, BUT WHAT THE HELL? THEY'RE DOCTORS!! SUE 'EM ANYWAY!!! SO HE SLIPPED AND FELL IN THE PRODUCE SECTION BECAUSE HE'S A MORON AND HE WAS ROLLER-BLADING THROUGH THE STORE. HEY!! THEY SHOULD HAVE ANTICIPATED THAT AND OFFERED HIM KNEE AND ELBOW PADS WHEN HE CAME THROUGH THE DOOR!! AHH! AHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!" With that final spasm, the weasel exploded into a tiny rolling fireball. "Wow," Doreen said. "Spontaneous combustion. That was coooool!!!" "What'd you hit her with, boss?" the security guard asked. I shrugged. "Truth serum. Gets 'em every time." (and I'm not apologizing for this either. BWWWAAA HAAAA HAAAA HAAAA!!) =========================================================================== Date: Wed, 20 Mar 1996 17:46:33 From: Doc Anvil Subject: WAR: The boy needs a bath Title: the boy needs a bath Author: Danni/Randy Ferrance When: Tuesday afternoon Where: Anne's WARNING: THE FOLLOWING WAR POST MAKES REFERENCE TO A NAKED BUTT Danni the wombat smelled two noxious things at once. The first was all too easy to identify. She climbed out of the crib and morphed back human, and gently carried Mary to the changing table for a fresh diaper. Anne had better appreciate all this help. And Anvil... well, Anvil was running up a debt that only an immortal would live long enough to pay off. "That better?" she asked after powdering Mary's butt (warned ya) and taping on the fresh diaper. She fastened the onsie, readjusted the baby's dress, and laid her back into the crib. Anne was sure to come for her soon. Mary had just woken up, and was so far to content to chew on her toes. "Just a few minutes, Mary?" Danni asked, morphing back into the wombat. She lifted the heat grating from the floor and slid down into the duct work. Yep, just as she'd suspected. The other smell had been baked immie. And he was just gasping back to life. Not on her watch, he wasn't. She grapped him by the scruff of the neck and dragged him quietly up the stairs, checking to be sure the coast was clear. She hauled him into the backyard, quickly, before he fully recovered his strength. She dragged him through the short expanse of woods to the storm drain, and pushed the lid aside. Below, she could hear the water rushing past; not a lot of water, after all, it hadn't rained in Seacouver since the war had begun. What was the chance of *that* happening. She lifted the brat and then held him for just a second over the long concrete shaft. "You know, Kenny," she told him. "You could really use a bath." The splash at the bottom cut short his scream. =========================================================================== Date: Sat, 23 Mar 1996 00:32:13 From: Carol Ann Liddiard Subject: WAR: Going to Joe's By Carol Ann Liddiard Place: Joe's Time: Tuesday afternoon, March 19, 1996 Carol Ann watched the rest of the MFW's swarm the place, but couldn't see any of the faction leaders she needed. Catching Linda's eye, she gestured for the woman to join her at the bar. When they were both settled Joe came over. "What'll it be, ladies?" "Bailey's on the rocks, make it a triple." Carol Ann replied wearily "A coke classic with lemon, single cube of ice." At Joe's look, Linda shrugged. "I've spent too much time overseas." Joe watched the large group of women as they explored the bar, chattering with patrons, and taking pictures. "What brings you ladies here?" "We're the Methos flag wavers, and we're late as usual," Carol Ann grumped as she downed her drink. "Methos?" Joe asked cautiously. "Yeah, you know, Adam Pierson, mild-mannered watcher by day, Methos, vengeful immortal by night. Guy with the schnozz." Carol Ann slammed the empty glass down on the bar. "Hit me again." Despite his astonishment, Joe managed to refill her glass. "How do you know about Methos?" "Linda can explain that better than I could," Carol Ann replied as she drained her drink. "I'll have another please." Carol Ann grinnyp@aros.net | grinnyp@xmission.com | GrinnyP@aol.com Co-Chief Flagwaver, Methos Publisher, "Richie Forever" and "The Methos Chronicles" * HeLLLion Extraordinaire * PSEB * List-Goddess, PWFC * http://www.aros.net/~grinnyp =========================================================================== Date: Thu, 21 Mar 1996 23:47:08 From: frj Subject: WAR: Cindy talks to Adam Title: Cindy Talks to Adam By: Cindy Shettle Date: Tuesday, March 19 Time: a couple of hours after Carol Ann's untitled post Location: Four Seasons Hotel, MFW Headquarters Cindy paced impatiently up and down the silent hallway. She was very frustrated. She had been waiting almost two days. . . No wait, she was forgetting the nine hour time difference. It was slightly over two days that she had been waiting to get alone with Adam so that she could tell him about Don and the CD. Now, finally he had arrived in Seacouver, and by a stroke of luck, Carol Ann had left Cindy to guard him while the rest of the group went to Joe's. And he was unconscious! At least she assumed that Adam was still unconscious. She hadn't heard a peep out of him since the others had left. Cindy sighed and looked around at the hallway. It was still empty. She glanced at her watch, but it couldn't tell her when the others would be back. It could be hours from now or just a few minutes. If she wanted to talk to Adam alone, she might never get another opportunity. Cindy whirled around and knocked on the door. "Adam?" "Go away." It wasn't a promising start to a conversation, but at least he was awake. Grateful that Carol Ann had trusted her enough to leave the key, Cindy unlocked the door and cautiously opened it. Adam was lying on the bed where they had left him, still dressed only in his underwear. She sighed. The rest of her faction may be fascinated by Adam's underwear and what lay beneath it, but being in the same room as a nearly nude man that she barely knew made Cindy uncomfortable. Adam was facing away from her and if he hadn't called out earlier, Cindy would have thought that he was still sound asleep. Adam, the mild mannered Watcher, seemed very vulnerable in his misery, and Cindy wished that she had some way to comfort him. Or better yet, that she could wisk him away some place safe where such things as Immortals, Watchers, Hunters, Wars, and especially Alexa didn't exist and couldn't hurt him. Of course, the rest of the Methos faction wouldn't like that, but since they were friends, and you could always use more friends when trying to get cheered up, she could invite them along. Unfortunately, she couldn't think of such a place, and wouldn't be able to get there anyway. As she watched the not really sleeping man ignore her presence, Cindy thought about how she viewed him. Even knowing that Methos and Adam Pierson were really the same person, they acted so differently that she had a tendency to assign most of his personality traits to one or the other. But even though it was Methos that represented his Immortal side, Adam still carried with him five thousand years of patience, knowledge and memories. And five thousand years of pain. "It brings it all back, doesn't it?" "What?" Adam rolled over in the bed and squinted up at Cindy, obviously confused. "All the memories of. . ." How to put this delicately? "Similar experiences." Adam nodded as he sat up and looked over the young woman standing in the doorway. His eyes lingered on first her waistpack and then on the splint concealing her right wrist before reaching her face and meeting Cindy's gaze with a questioning look. "My name is Cindy Shettle. I'm a friend of Carol Ann. Even though I'm not a Watcher, I do spend a lot of time thinking about you and your kind. Especially you. I may envy your healing ability," she raised her wrist slightly to draw attention to it, "but living forever?" She shook her head. "I don't think I could do that." Adam shrugged and looked around the room. Spotting the mini-bar, he headed over. "You want something?" Cindy entered the room, closing the door behind her. "Don't bother. They emptied it before they left." Adam sighed and looked at Cindy. "I guess we have to go out then." "One of the reasons that I am here is to make sure you don't. Especially not for that." "And you do that by waking me up? Highly efficient." The sarcasm dripping from his voice made Cindy wince. It meant that the harshness that she associated with Methos was slipping through. And she was more than a little scared of Methos. The stood there in silence for a moment while Adam looked at Cindy oddly. When Methos did nothing further, Cindy took a deep breath and tried to compose herself. "I needed to talk to you. It's too important to wait any longer." Adam shrugged and went back to the bed to sit down again. When Cindy didn't say anything, he looked at her expectantly. She sighed. "It would be easier if you were in a better mood." "Does that mean I get a drink after all?" he asked hopefully. "Adam!" He sighed and looked aimlessly around the room. "This is for your own good. We care too much to just sit back and let you do this to yourself." Cindy was starting to get slightly hysterical. "There's a war going on. Horton's trying to kill you. You're Methos! You've survived five thousand years! You must know better than this! Don't you believe us?" Cindy stopped to catch her breath and suddenly realized that the lecture she had wanted to give Methos since she first heard about his condition had just escaped her lips. Methos wasn't even very good about taking his own advice. He was bound to be furious. Terrified, she backed against the door and attempted to brace herself for whatever Methos was going to do. Nothing happened. Cindy opened her eyes. Adam was looking at her with amusement. "Would it help any if I said that I do know better?" Cindy looked at him quizily. Adam winked conspiritorily. "Just between you and me, I can handle my liquor much better than your friends think." Cindy studied Adam dubiously, not sure whether or not to believe him. Then she shrugged. That question could wait. For the moment, it was not as important as the fact that she appeared to have somehow arroused Adam's curiousity sufficiently that he actually wanted to hear what she had to say. She stepped forward nervously. "Do you believe in ghosts?" "Ghosts?" That was obviously not a question he was expecting. Adam considered it carefully. "I've never met a ghost, but that doesn't mean that they don't exist." He looked at Cindy. "You met a ghost?" Cindy nodded. "At the bookstore." There were lots of bookstores. "In Paris." Even in Paris. "I mean. . ." "Shakespeare and Company," Adam suggested. He wasn't exactly stupid and bookstores where someone he knew had died weren't all that common. "You met Don's ghost." Cindy nodded to both statements. Carefully she unzipped the main compartment of her waistpack and pulled out the CD. "He helped me find this." Adam held out his hand, but Cindy hesitated. He smiled. "As you pointed out earlier, I'm Methos. I'm not nearly as helpless as I appear." Still she hesitated. "What about the others? I think we should tell them. The information on here could be useful in figuring out what the other sides of the war are up to." Adam considered this and nodded. "I normally wouldn't do such a thing, but at the moment, my life is at stake. Do you have a computer with you?" "Yes. I mean no. I mean, we have a room full of computers set up down the hall that are networked to a bunch of computers in people's rooms." Adam eyed Cindy suspiciously. Did he suspect that she had an illicit copy of his database on her laptop? It occured to her that her copy was unauthorized to the third power being an unauthorized copy of an unauthorized CD backup of an unauthorized computer database. Well, the term Vemas had used was unsanctioned, but either way they didn't have permission. "If you'll wait in the hall a minute, I'll get dressed and then we can meet everybody in the computer room." Cindy opened the door. "I'll wait for you to get dressed, but the others aren't here right now. They went . . . out." She wasn't sure she should tell him where, since the only definite location she had was a bar and she was supposed to be keeping him away from alcohol. Adam shrugged. "Well, we can wait for them to get back in the computer room then." He started looking around for his clothing. Cindy exited the room. The cellular phone Carol Ann had given her was sitting on the floor where she had left it. Cindy picked it up. Should she call? Carol Ann had said, "If there's trouble," and there wasn't any. Adam was being extremely well behaved at the moment and there were no signs of Kimmies or Hunters. She certainly wouldn't object to more time alone with Adam. Adam came out of his room. "Ready?" He stopped, looking at the phone in Cindy's hand. "Carol Ann left this for emergencies. Do you think this is an emergency?" "Not really." Adam looked up and down the hallway. It looked like a hotel hallway. "Before I forget again there's something I should give back to you." Cindy handed Adam the phone and CD so that she could unzip the outer compartment of her waistpack and pull out a key. "I didn't have time to bring the key to the bookstore back to your house, so I still have it with me." Remembering what state she had left the store in she added, "Actually you're going to have some cleaning up to do when you get back. I searched for a while before I saw Don and I didn't have time to put things away either." Adam handed Cindy the cell phone back. "I'll take the key, but the mess you left probably convinced the new owner to change the locks." Cindy let Adam take the key out of her hand. "New owner?" It had never occured to her that anyone else could have taken over the store. Adam nodded. "Someone bought the store after Christine's death. It's a good thing they didn't find this." He waved the CD. "Unsecured copies like this can too easily fall into the wrong hands." He looked at Cindy as he said the last sentence. He knew. He had to. And he was right. Cindy sighed. "I had to. After all, it is _your_ database." The logic of Cindy's statement completely escaped Adam. He stared at her a moment and then sighed. "At least turn the security features on." "Security features?" "You don't think I'd program something like this without any security, do you?" Cindy just kind of looked at him. She wouldn't think that except for the fact that he obviously had. Adam sighed. "Don didn't want to deal with them. I had to turn them off on his copy before he would even look at it. I never knew that he could copy it." He looked at Cindy thoughtfully. "Don't look at me. I didn't teach him." Adam smiled. "That's not what I meant. I was just wondering. . . I guess I'll just have to ask him myself when I get back to Paris." Cindy wondered if Adam would be able to see Don. If by some quirk of fate, he couldn't and she could, maybe Adam would invite her to move to Paris with him to translate. The real version of Adam interupted Cindy's fantasy version. "Come on. I can show you how to turn on the security if you need help." Cindy led the way to her room where they settled on the bed to turn on the security and look at some of the more relevant database entries. *I have Adam Pierson, not only in my room, but in my bed.* she gloated to no one in particular. *Won't the others be insanely jealous?* Of course Adam was fully clothed, typing away on a computer, and giving no indication that he even noticed that Cindy was female, so it probably didn't fit anyone else's fantasies very well. But Cindy actually prefered it this way. She'd probably totally freak if he tried making a pass at her. They were so absorbed in the database that they completely lost track of time. Soon there were voices in the hallway. "They're gone!" "Are you sure?" "Well, Cindy is anyway. I haven't opened Methos's room yet, but I can't imagine that anyone would take Cindy and leave him." Cindy exhanged looks with Adam. "Don't tell them about this, please." She indicated the computer he was turning off. "If for no other reason than because it might give them ideas. If you want to limit the number of copies, it's safer to leave them thinking about your underwear." Adam shook his head. He didn't think that his underwear was all that fascinating. "I won't tell them." They hid the laptop under the covers and went to the door. "See! Methos isn't here. I told you he would be gone if Cindy was." They entered the hallway and Cindy called out, "Actually, we're down here." Everyone stared at them. "We were, um. . . talking." Cindy looked at Adam. She just knew that they were going to get the wrong idea. "Cindy wanted to tell me about how she found this in Paris," Adam held up the CD, "but she left it in her room, so we had to go there to get it. We were actually just on our way to the computer room to look at it when you arrived. Would you like to come with us?" Cindy had to resist grinning openly. After millennia of practice, Adam was a very smooth lier. Even she almost believed him. Cindy ____________________________________________________ The Fantasy Realms Journal & RPG Staff Joseph Teller * Cindy Shettle * Kiralee McCauley ____________________________________________________ frj@tiac.net or http://www.tiac.net/users/frj/ BBS : (617) 899-9483 (FIDONet 1:101/245) =========================================================================== Date: Sat, 23 Mar 1996 00:41:46 From: Carol Ann Liddiard Subject: WAR: Pissant Grad Students part 1 by Dr. Linda C. Fried Time: Tuesday afternoon, March 19, 1996 Location: Joe's Linda is telling Joe how the Methos Flag Wavers/Pissant Grad Students were formed. ----------------------- They tell me that all good tales begin this way, so here goes: I remember it as if it was yesterday...that dark and fateful night... I'd been lecturing at Oxford University, giving a fortnight-long seminar on the development of weaponry through to the end of the 19th century. None of those fancy tanks or automatic weapons for me, no, I find myself mesmerized by ancient swords and daggers, claymores and targes. I had 57 students attending the series, an all time high for me (and a huge money maker for the University). It was a very strange mix, mostly grad students, but some other continuing ed and even undergraduate students. Since it was being held over the summer months, I guess that I shouldn't be surprised at the number of yanks out there. Hell, even my U.S. classes were getting fairly sizable. I guess some 500 students attend my lectures in any given year...and then there were some that attended almost every lecture. Of course, many of these were my clients. After all, it is hard to find someone reliable in the acquisition of ancient weaponry. I mean, how many people make a lifetime study of how far an endo sword could slice through a body? Or how the most effective use of a rapier would be? Or the best weapons for decapitating a man? I remember when Uncle Jaques found me. I was just finishing my second graduate degree, and was researching my presentation for my second doctoral degree. I had traveled extensively through the highlands of Scotland, the Isles, the Kintyre Penninsula, and Wales. I had even visited Ireland in my search. I was looking for the Templars...Well, I was trying to trace the route that they had taken down the Seine when they fled Paris in 1307, and Philip the Fair's wrongful siezure of them and their wealth (which is what he really wanted, but never found). I had, in frustration, chased down the stories of Myrddin (latinized as Merlinus) for my thesis. Now I was back on track. My family had fled Scotland hundreds of years ago (before the revolutionary war) to America. This was very peculiar, since our name appears Germanic. Turns out that it is a misspelling of Friezell and that is an old Scottish name, tracing back to the time of Robert the Bruce and the battle at Bannockburn. My theories falling apart left and right, I decided to take a side trip to the priory at Ardchatten, where an obscure religious group had kept a monastary since the twelth century. Here I found what I was looking for-a sign of the templars. A safe house sign. In looking for other connections, and in many conversations with the locals (over many wee bits of whisky), I heard of the old stories which connected the area to the templars, and to Robert the Bruce. I stayed in the area for a few weeks, and was eventually contacted by a man who claimed to be a distant relative. He showed me the geneaology charts, and traced our family history back to the mid 1200's. He also confirmed the family's connection to the Templars. Not just confirmed it, but had documented proof. Jacques was about 55 or so, I really couldn't tell. He, too, was a professor, his field being the medieval period. His specialty was weaponry, in which he also had a thriving trade. That was thirty years ago...I had finished my program and started to work with him, acquiring and selling weapons, expanding his trade to more ancient pieces. I met with his clients, some of the wealthiest people in the world, and some of the strangest. There were a number of graduate students who studied under us (and one who seemed to know far more than I could ever have learned about ancient weaponry) over the years. And the antiquities dealers that we regularly dealt with...Jacques introduced me to the strangest group of resources (there was this unbelievably gorgeous monk in Paris-what a waste of man), and life was pretty good for a number of years. Adam seemed to be a perpetual graduate student. He knew so much - all the ancient Greek, Roman, Celtic and Germanic war arts. He was also quite skilled in the killing tools up to the Crusader periods. He has an apparently infinite source of funds, and acquired many pieces from Jacques. It always seemed that he was looking for something special, but what it was, I didn't know... When Jacques died, I took over the business, and continued the lecture series. I refused to hold a chair at any one University. It would tie me down to one local too tightly, and I loved the travel. Adam tended to attend a number of my lectures, maybe three or four series a year. He also continued to purchase weaponry from me, three or four primo pieces a year... It's quite funny. Although most evenings after my lectures, we'd meet for dinner, he always seemed to have a number of moon-eyed women dreaming of him in my lectures. I guess the strong, silent, moody type is very appealing to women. To me he was always a sort of best friend, and had turned me on to some of my best clients (e.g., Duncan and Tess...What great pieces that collected, and I bought the remainder of their collection after her tragic death...it's too bad, they were so very much in love). I guess I really alwys remember the women, they are so few and far between in my lectures. Leighann, now she and Miracle and Laura attended that series I gave in New York. Adam was there, and I think that they spent more time staring at Adam then at me. Carol was there, too. It turned out to be a fairly important lecture. Denise had recommended that Laura attend. Denise had attended my lecture at UCLA hoping for some sort of insight into one of her patients (she's a counseling psychologist) that had run amuck with a sword, decapitating three people before being arrested by the local constabulary. Adam and I had arranged to meet for dinner at one of my favorite Indian restaraunts, Dehli Darbar. He greeted me enthusiastically with a kiss when I arrived and seated me. I teased him about his new conquests in the classroom, and we shared a few chuckles. "You're so de-bone-err and swave, " I teased. "Yes, the women just fall at my feet. You see how they are all surrounding me, awaiting my every command, breathlessly worshipping me..", he continued. "Maybe that's the problem, they hold their breaths so long that they die. Tell them to breath every couple minutes...", I countered. We continued the light banter until after we ordered, then I ended it. "O.K., Adam, what is this crazy expedition that you have lined up for me? Why Wales, and what the hell am I supposed to be looking for? In fact, what have you been searching for all this time... You know, Jacques never did tell me what you're quest was for. You buy such a strange mix of items, but I knoe that there is one piece that you're really looking for." "How much did Jacques tell you about me, about us?" "Nothing, Adam, other than what I already know...You're a grad student, apparently perpetually, and you've got some sort of unlimited source of money which allows you to enjoy your hobbies of reading, and collecting weaponry. You speak at least fourteen languages that I know, read hieroglyphics,ancient pict, and know the most ancient deviations of greek, latin, arabic, and gaellic. I've never seen you with any woman for more than a very short time, you and Jacques 'go way back', and in thirty years you never have seemed to age a single year." "Well, dearling, you still look thirty." "Yes, my family ages very well, and are extremely long lived, but at least I've aged. You still look like you're in your mid-thirties, just like you did thirty years ago!" "Well, I must have even better genes in my family... " "Adam, you're impossible!" We were interrupted by the waiter bearing our food. We ate in companionable silence for a while. "What do you remember about Caladvwlch?", he finally asked. "Caladbolg?" I asked. "Yes, I knew that you'd remember..." "Is this a quiz, or does the question have any substance?" He grinned and added,"Just humor me a wee bit..." "All right Adam...It is reported to be the sword that Merlinus gave Arthur. It had been found by Merlinus amongst the treasures of Maxim, the ancient Roman who won himself the kingship of Britain, and who defeated the legions sent by Rome, and eventually attempted to defeat Rome. He was slain in battle, and his treasures carried back to ancient Britain and buried. His descendent, Ambrosius Aurelianus was the father of Myrddin, or Merlinus Emrys, by a princess to whom he was not married (neither was ever married),and nephew of Uther. Since he was illegitimate, Uther followed Ambrosius to the throne. At some point after the birth of Uther's son, Myrddin had a vision which led him to one of the great altars of Mithros. There he saw a beautiful sword carved out of stone. He laid his hand upon the stone sword and drew forth a magnificaent steel blade, its hilt encrusted with precious gems, and runes along the side saying 'the once and future king'. The sword was hidden away and later recovered, either from beneath a dark lake or from a stone by Arthur Pendragon, the only son of Uther to survive childbirth. He took this name from Ambrosius, who used it, since dragwn means leader, and pen signifies a head (thus chief leader or high king) and wore a dragon pin as his own device, across a field of white. The reign of Arthur was magnificent, until at the end, where the seeds that he had sown, came back to cause his demise..." The waiter came back for our desert orders. (to be continued) Carol Ann grinnyp@aros.net | grinnyp@xmission.com | GrinnyP@aol.com Co-Chief Flagwaver, Methos Publisher, "Richie Forever" and "The Methos Chronicles" * HeLLLion Extraordinaire * PSEB * List-Goddess, PWFC * http://www.aros.net/~grinnyp =========================================================================== Date: Sat, 23 Mar 1996 01:03:30 From: Carol Ann Liddiard Subject: WAR: Pissant Grad students part 2 By Dr. Linda C. Fried Time: Tuesday Afternoon Location: Joes Linda is explaining the formation of the Methos Flag Wavers/Pissant Grad Students to Joe. --------------- I noticed that at a nearby table were seated a few of my students, staring outrageously at Adam with open lust in their eyes. Oh, to be so young and carefree...and horny??? I hoped that they could not overhear our conversation, because you never know what comes out when you're eavesdropping. There was little chance that they'd really ever spend much time with us, anyway. Since I don't often socialize with my students who are not also clients, I guess it really didn't matter too much. But they were sort of lurking about. They'd obviously finished their meal, and kept glancing over at us. As we ate our desert, I continued..."Arthur had unwittingly been seduced by his own half sister (she was not so innocent of the crime), resulting in the birth of a son, Mardoc, or Mordred. Mordred and his mother Morgause attempted to steal the sword, and the Lady of the Lake, or the Lady of Avalon took the sword away into her safe keeping. Arthur was later engaged in a great battle with Mardoc, who had siezed his queen and claimed the country as his own whilst Arthur was engaged in battle off the island. Mardoc was slain, and a weary Arthur was carried off on a barge to the vale of Avalon. He is said to be returning one day...The sword has never been seen again. If Arthur lived, it was during the first half of the sixth century." I paused, finished my desert and waited for Adam to say something. He didn't. Instead he called for the tab, paid the bill, and we got up to walk back the Grand Hyatt where we were both staying. After a few minutes he said, "That's what I'm looking for. The sword." "Bloody hell, Adam! You're off on a wild goose chase. Looking for lost knights and holy grails..." "That, too, if you can uncover it, dearling..." We walked in silence for a few blocks until we reached the hotel. "How about a nightcap?" he asked. "Sure." We entered the bar and took a quiet table in the dimly lit place. "Linda, it exists. I know it does." "Have you seen it recently, Adam? I think that you are daft." "Not recently, but once I held it, wielded it..." "Yeah, right...", I added, trying to figure out if I should summon the men from Bellview... "Listen, I know that this sounds strange, but," I interrupted him as I saw Leighann, Miracle, Laura, and Carol come in, apparently after following us from the restaurant. I was tempted to ask them to join us, not wanting to spend the rest of the evening alone with a mad man. I know that I am a wee bit odd, eccentric even, but Adam was beginning to sound like a raving lunatic. Adam took the hint and started talking about archaeology and swords. Eventually, I declared that I was starving, and persuaded Adam to come with me to the Brasserie, about seven blocks away. It was 2 a.m., and there weren't too many places open to get a snack at. I also noticed that the girls were still following us, and still goggling at Adam. We probably made a motley pair at that hour. And we certainly were a bit relaxed after the drinks. Three guys approached us. I had my hand in my jacket, very unobtrusively, reaching for my Colt. Better to be safe... "Alright, freeze.."a voice from behind us said. There were two in front of us, and two behind, and both of those held guns.. Not much I could do without perhaps hurting an innocent bystander. "Let's have the wallets and jewelry, now. Nice and easy, and no noe will get hurt." Boy, had they picked the wrong pair. I had my American Express card, license, and about twenty dollars on me. Adam went to get his wallet from his back pocket and the robber freaked. "This can't be all, you lying sob's. I want the stuff now." He must have been high on something. I guess he thought Adam was reaching for a weapon (in his bum pocket?). He got a crazy look on his face, and started firing at Adam. The gun jammed on the third bullet (Saturday night specials tend to do this), his friends took off and Adam fell against me. Our group of "watchers" looked on in shock as I slowly lowered Adam to the ground and tried to assess his injuries. There was alot of blood, particularly on the left side of the chest. There was no heart beat. "Get some help", I yelled, whilst trying to stop the bleeding. Leighann and Miracle took off. They were less than a block away when Adam gasped and opened his eyes. "No police" he whispered. "You're in shock," I stated simply. "No, I'm right as rain," he said, more strongly. Within a minute he was standing. "Come on, we've got to get out of here," he said. "Can't be here when the coppers come." He was walking toward the hotel. "Come on. I'll explain it all to you in a bit. Trade jackets with me, Linda ", he insisted. I did as he asked, noting the bullet hole in the front of his jacket. And the blood. We continued in silence back to his hotel room, where he collapsed on his bed. I ripped off my jacket and his shirt and looked amazed at the wound...well, what was left of it. Thirty minutes later, Miracle, Leighann, Carol Ann, Laura and two policemen knocked on the door. Adam signalled to let them in. They wanted an explanation, which Adam gave them. The shots had just grazed him and momentarily stunned him, and when he had recovered, he had insisted that we bring him back to his room to clean up. We described the assailants, the officers took copious notes, said that they'd be in touch, and left. "OK, Adam. What's the real truth," I said. Helaunched into a story about immortals, and the gathering, and beheadings. I insisted that we had seen the wound, and I picked up his discarded jacket and showed it to him. Then I whirled around, "Beheadings...decapitations...oh, my god! Jacques was". "One of us," Adam finished. "But he was my cousin or great uncle thrice removed, or something like that." Adam explained that they were all orphans of a sort and never knew their real parents. "How old are you?" I asked. "Over five thousand years old"' he stated. I mumbled something about him being bloody loony tunes, shook my head in disbelief, and stumbled towards the door. It was too outrageous, too bonkers. "Linda!" I heard him yell. I headed for my room, fast. I took a long shower, and stepped out to hear the ringing of my phone. I pulled the plug, crawled into bed, set the alarm, and went to sleep. Four hours later it went off, and I thought about the crazy dream that I had had last night. I dressed and went to look for my jacket, but found Adam's instead, equipped with two bullet holes and blood. I paled, but left to give my lectures. Adam, Leighann, Miracle, Laura and Carol were all there, beaming up at me from the front row. I don't know how he had pulled off this stunt. It had to be a joke,although Adam doesn't tend to have much of a sense of humor. After class, he was after me. "Linda, we have to talk." "You know, you are really daft. You are sick. That was a terrible joke." He grabbed my shoulders. "It isn't a joke. It's the truth. All of it. Every bit of it. Including Caladbolg." "Right, you're an immortal and you were once Arthur Pendragon. And I'm the Lady of Avalon. You're crazy." "Adam, this is nuts. You're an... ". He cut me off, "immortal who is not human, and can only die when they take my head. You know others." "Yeah, right." "Why are you always the skeptic?" "Adam, listen to yourself. You're not making any sense." "Then explain what happened last eve." "I can't." "Let me prove it to you." "Now you're really crazy." He hailed a cab and we taxied back to the hotel in silence. He led me up to his room, and rummaged through his drawers. He pulled out a lovely Japanese short sword and held it to his chest. He plunged it in . I watched, wide-eyed. Then my bum hit the bed as I collapsed in shock. A few minutes later, he gasped, and whispered that I should remove the knife. Within ten minutes he was active, the wound almost entirely healed... "I believe you," I stammered, "Just don't do that again." Now I see Adam through very different eyes. We've regained the old camraderie that we had before that fateful night, but I always look at him with wonderment and awe. The others and myself have kept his secret. He spends a great deal of time planning this quest that I have promised to journey with him on. But I still wonder if it is all true, or the greatest joke in the world. Perhaps with the many years he has lived, comes the brooding and the insanity...the once and future king? No way....And the others? Some I can guess. Duncan McLeod, Richie Ryan, maybe even Darius, now deceased. I don't query him about them. I'm not sure if I want that kind of confirmation. Maybe I am daft, too,and have slipped into his fantasy world..... Carol Ann grinnyp@aros.net | grinnyp@xmission.com | GrinnyP@aol.com Co-Chief Flagwaver, Methos Publisher, "Richie Forever" and "The Methos Chronicles" * HeLLLion Extraordinaire * PSEB * List-Goddess, PWFC * http://www.aros.net/~grinnyp ===========================================================================