HLFIC-L Gathering Tuesday (Part 3 of 3) =========================================================================== Date: Sat, 23 Mar 1996 01:16:32 From: Carol Ann Liddiard Subject: WAR: Pissant Grad Students part 3 Time: Tuesday afternoon, March 19, 1996 Place: Joe's "After that," Carol Ann finished her third (or was it her fourth?) drink, "we formed our little group to keep tabs on him. You could call us auxiliary Watchers." She turned around in time to see the new arrival in the bar. A man wearing leathers and looking very windblown had just entered and was introducing himself to the rest of the MFWs. "Okay, everyone!" Carol Ann yelled over the din of introductions. The room quieted instantly. "We need to get back to the hotel. Let's move it out!" Joe watched in amazement as the group streamed out of the bar. "How do you do that?" he asked. Carol Ann shrugged. "I used to teach Sunday School." As she was leaving the bar she finally noticed a group clustered in a corner of the bar. The focus of the group appeared to be a tall, handsome man with a ponytail. Weaving a little from 2 days lack of sleep and three (or four) drinks, Carol Ann followed her faction out the door. 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 15:06:56 From: Dana Gunn Subject: WAR: I finally meet everyone. DATE: Tuesday afternoon PLACE: Joe's I parked the bike outside the bar and shouldered my back pack. I ran a hand through my hair to kind of straighten it out. As I reached for the door I thought, "Well everyone should be inside now and I finally get to meet them." I rounded the corner and was met by the sight of quite a few women, most of whom were not the tallest people I've ever met. This must be the rest of the group, I mumbled under my breath. My boots made quite a sound on the wooden floor. Carol Ann turned to see what could be coming in that sounded like a horse. Making my way to the others I began introducing myself. "Before we go much further, I really need a drink. Anyone need anything else?" (Always a polite thing to ask when leaving a drinking table.) I made my way to the bar and ordered a scotch straight up. "It clears up the sinuses." I said with a lop-sided grin to a woman sitting at the bar. I soon found out that this was the now famous Carol Ann. Sitting back down with the group I related the story of my long plane trip and how I went to the BMW motorcycle dealership and came away with a Honda. I was listening to a few other stories of how they all became involved in the war when Carol Ann's voice rang out over the rest of us, "Okay, everyone. Let's move out!" -- Methos Faction Aut Pax Aut Bellum Dana Gunn of the Clan Gunn *8) =========================================================================== Date: Sun, 24 Mar 1996 21:38:19 From: Enmare Subject: WAR: The Power of Soup? Title: The Power of Soup? By: Enmare Time: Tuesday, March 19th, afternoon, after Pissant Grad Sudents part III Location: Joe's Reason: to be just as silly as anyone else here The figure at the bar watched the MFWs move out, and sipped a tomato juice and vodka drink. -Hmmm... so this Methos was Arthur, eh? Peculiar if true. Useful in any respect- He went to a sink to wipe of most of the makeup and pull off the latex face pieces to reveal.... Kassim in a very distinguished toupee/beard combo. -It is most lucky that some of my old friends have gone to work in Hollywood.- He sniffed the air delicately. -I hope no one noticed the smell,- he thought, and threw the rest of the cocktail onto his face. Picking up as much tomato juice/soup/whatever he could find in the supplies behind the bar, Kassim left the building with his information. -I could kiss the mack truck driver that ran over that skunk.- He thought gratefully, -This new beard is very classy.- Of course he wondered why a bar like this had been left without anyone tending it.... ------------------------ {flashback. As a literary device, no Immies involved} The Duncan crowd finally left, taking their appetites with them. Hungry herself, Jill decided to around back and see if she could scrounge up some cheese and bread for a grilled cheese sandwich. Two pieces of bread and some cheese melted between them. How hard could that be? In the storeroom, Jill noticed a door open, and a blond evil looking man in a trenchcoat ducking through it. "Horton!" she gasped and ran after him. The hallways behind the door were long and branching, and by the time that Jill realized that Horton had too much of a head-start for her to catch up with him, she was thoroughly lost. Taking a minute to look around, she noticed that she was surrounded by doors. Someone slammed into her back. Turning around, she recognized... "Krychek!" "Shhh..." Rat-boy said. "I'm trying to find the door back to Washington. It has to be around here somewhere, after I tunneled all that way out of the silo..." "Washington?" "Yeah. DC. Looks kinda like Vancouver." Walking further, Jill saw a two-dimensional blue hole open up, and four people come tumbling out. "Excuse me, Miss," said a portly guy who looked kinda like Indy's friend in Raiders of the Lost Ark, "But we're trying to find our way back to our world. Specifically, San Francisco. It looks a bit like Vancouver." Jill told them that she wasn't able to help them, and walked further along the hallway. Looking around, she noticed that the doors were labeled. One was marked "VR.5 equipment storage", another "Forever Knight continuity", another "TARDIS overflow storage". The sign off of one of the doors further along had been ripped off, and Jill opened it to get a better look and was immediately shoved out by a bulter. What she did manage to glimpse was rather bat-filled. After walking for who knows how long, Jill came upon a door marked "Watchers" in big friendly letters. She decided to open it. The room was large, and a book stood open on a stand in the middle of the room. Suddenly, she heard a big booming voice (not too unlike Yaphet Kotto's) inside her mind: /WHICH OF THEM IS LEFT?/ "I don't know. Just the usual people." /THEN YOU HAVE WOKEN ME TOO SOON. IN THIS BOOK LIE ALL THE ANSWERS, ABOUT KATANA SPACE, THE ORIGION OF IMMORTALS, Q-WAVES OR PROXIMATE CAUSE, THE HOLY GROUND QUESTION, EVERYTHING./ "Um... would you mind if I had a look then?" /YES, I WOULD MIND. WAKE ME WHEN THE GATHERING IS OVER. AND I WAS HAVING SUCH A LOVELY DREAM TOO.../ "Er... okay, sure." /LEAVE THIS PLACE./ "But I can't leave yet. I haven't found the food." /FOLLOW THE PATH TO THE BAR ABOVE. YOU WILL FIND SOME BREAD AND CHEESE ON THE COUNTER. NOW GO./ "Erm... okay." Jill left the room, and in front of her was a hallway that she hadn't seen before, and at the end of it she could see the storeroom through a slightly ajar door. At the end of the hallway, she noticed two doors to either side. One was marked "Plot Holes" and the other was labeled "Helping Phriendly Book". There was strange music coming out of the later, and the former just sounded menacing, so she wisely avoided both and walked back into the light, the bar, and lunch. --------------------------- The scene with the book was shamelessly adapted from the _Sandman_ comic by Neil Gaiman. =========================================================================== Date: Sat, 23 Mar 1996 00:15:05 From: Carol Ann Liddiard Subject: WAR: Flying dogs, part I By Heidi McKeon Tuesday 3/19/96 afernoon Seacouver Four Seasons Hotel "Damn, I hate traveling so much in such a short period of time, it always leaves me wiped out," Heidi thought as she headed to her room. "OK I need to call John and have him ship me some dogs. Which ones, Bonny, no way to young, Sunshine, no to much of a flake, Mattie, maybe, I could use my comfort dog right about now; Sally, definatly, she's got a good nose and works nicley; Sailor, he's a pain but he's always right on." Heidi opened the door to her room and headed to the phone. "Lets see time in Honolulu, late morning, call him at work." She dials the number and goes through all the hoops to get Lt McKeon on the phone. " Hi Honey, ( pause), Yea we're in Seacouver now (pause ) Adam is, well Ok I guess, I'll explain later. I need a big favor and it needs to be done ASAP. Wendy is missing, and Lizbet has been kidnapped again, I need you to send me Sailor Boy (pause ), yes i know he's your dog but he's a good tracking dog and that's what i need, Sally too. Oh and Honey don't forget to pack their bag. I'll need their harnesses, lines, food, bowls vitamins, shot records, etc. Call me back once you've made their flight plans." Heidi hung up the phone, and sat down to wait for his return call. < ring, ring> "Hello (pause ), That was fast (pause). Ok that flight 1095 from Honolulu to Seacouver Hawaiian Airlines, arriving 10:00 pm. Got it, Thanks Hon." Great the dogs would be here tonight, Heidi, thought, now i just need to let every one else know. Heidi headed off to meet the rest of the PSG's at Joes' 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 18:37:44 From: Sheila Marie Lane Subject: WAR: The Reserve Comforts This is being posted for Marina Bailey WAR: The Reserve Comforts Late Tuesday afternoon. The dojo was very quiet when the few members of the Richie Reserve who hadn't gone rushing headlong into other situations got there. "So, what are we doing here?" whispered Laura Michaels to Marina. "You heard the news too. Richie may be in trouble! We have to see if he's here!" Marina got a determined look on her face and hoisted her flag onto her shoulder. "Isn't that kind of heavy to cart around?" asked the other Laura. "Well, ja, but what kind of chief flag waver would I be if I didn't have a flag with attitude?" They were still whispering, as the dojo was empty, and it felt strange. Just then Kim caught sign of movement in the office. "There's someone there!" she whispered, loudly. All the flag wavers rushed into the office, holding their flags in rather defensive positions. (If they couldn't whap possible intruders, they could always blind them by flapping the flags in their faces!) The flags clattered to the floor when they found... Richie. He was not in the best of health, to say the least. He had just waved Rob off with a bright smile, then come back here to heal. With a cry (in unison, of course) of "RICHIE!!!" everyone rushed forward. Richie looked at the mass of females advancing and whimpered, trying to creep further into the office chair where he was slumped. Luckily the RR noticed this and backed off slightly. They all looked at each other, trying to decide who should go up and attempt to comfort the injured Immortal. Finally, Marina decided to take the initiative. She'd spent most of the first day smiling blissfully at Richie and being coy, but now was not the time. 'Time to use those genes that comfort crying children,' she thought to herself, ignoring the little voice that told her she wasn't doing this merely to comfort someone in pain. She knelt next to the chair. "Er... Richie?" Richie opened his eyes and looked at her. Ah, yes. The fainting one. "Marina?" Marina's face broke into a grin when he recognised her. The other flag wavers clustered round, and Richie looked at each of them and greeted them all by name. "Are you all right?" asked Jen. "Do I look all right to you?" Richie asked. "Well, not really..." "No, I'm not all right!" he yelled. Luckily Immortals heal quickly, and luckily flag wavers are resilient. Marina looked at the others helplessly. They all shrugged, and Kim made a hugging motion. Swallowing, Marina pried Richie's arms open (filing all tactile and other responses away for future reference, of course) and hugged him. "It's okay," she said. "We're here." "Why *are* you here?" Richie asked, his voice a bit muffled in Marina's shoulder. Laura Schomberg stated, "For the War." "Yeah, Horton being alive. I know. But why me? Women usually go for Mac." The Richie Reserve looked at each other. "Because we love you," Jen said finally. "We know you're good at heart, and we want you to have every chance." "We think you're nice," added Marina. Richie tried to disengage, but it was a bit difficult... Finally the other flag wavers tapped Marina on the shoulder. "Er... esteemed leader... you're strangling our hero." "Oh! Sorry!" Marina let go. "Feel better now?" Richie smiled - he did look better. "Yeah." He was also happy at being called someone's hero. It was a good feeling. Laura Michaels brought them all back down to Earth. "I hate to say this, but we have to make sure nothing happens to you again. We'll wait here with you until Celli calls to say it's safe to go back to your place." "I can take care of myself," said Richie, not liking being coddled. Comforted, sure. Coddled, no. "We want you to keep your head!" said Jen firmly. "We aren't leaving." "Get used to having bodyguards," added Kim. Richie sighed. "All right. But I need to take a shower. I'll use Mac's." He headed for the elevator, and the flag wavers all followed and piled in, jockeying for position due to the space their flags were taking up. When they got out in Duncan MacLeod's loft, the woman all stared with reverance at this private male space, nodding with approval. Richie ignored them and made to go into the bathroom. The Reserve followed. Finally Richie turned and addressed them. "Now, listen! You are not coming into the bathroom with me!" "But..." they began in unison. "No! You're not!" "We're your bodyguards. How can we guard your body from outside the door?" asked Kim plaintively. "You wait here," said Richie sternly and went into the batroom. The RR heard the door lock. "Drat!" said Marina. "I thought that was a great opportunity for a shirtless scene! Or more, maybe." Laura Schomberg clapped her hand over Marina's mouth. "This is a PG War, I think. Sh!" The flag wavers settled down to wait with Richie for the 'all clear' phone call. - Marina. \\ "You've heard it said that living well is ||>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> // // the best revenge? Au contraire - living || R I C H I E >> \\ \\ forever is the best revenge." - LaCroix ||>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> // //=====Marina Bailey=======tmar@fast.co.za=====|| \\ \\======Chief Flag Waver and Defender of Richie=====Knightie======// ... You gotta love this place, every day's like Halloween. ___ Blue Wave/QWK v2.12 =========================================================================== Date: Wed, 20 Mar 1996 20:02:47 From: Sean A.Simpson Subject: WAR: Who's That Showering in My Loft? Title: Who's That Showering in My Loft? Author: Sean A. Simpson Time: Late Tuesday Afternoon (at about the same time as The Reserve Comforts) Place: The Loft Reason: Because I can Duncan and the faction piled into the elevator and rode it up to the loft. Sean and Falcon were engaged in an intense discussion about the relative merits of attack parakeets versus attack hamsters and the problems that result from a lack of continuity, while the other FWs were similarly engaged. However, all action ceased when Duncan got the telltale expression that denoted the nearness of another Immortal (and the buzz music in the background was a rather significant clue as well.) Duncan drew his katana, and the remainder of the faction drew their respective swords, guns, and flags as well. The elevator door opened to reveal several women standing protectively in front of Duncan's bathroom door wielding flags that bore, in rather large print, the name RICHIE. "Hmmm," Sean commented, "must be the Richie Reserve. Odd; I didn't hear anything about it. Rather a surprise, wouldn't you say, gang?" The rest of the faction mumbled generally affirmative responses and began to put their weapons away. However, the weapons came right back out as the buzz music played, everything went into slow motion, and Duncan turned to the loft's door. The door opened to reveal two men, one with long, ebony hair tied into a ponytail, with a claymore at the ready, and a somewhat taller man with short blond hair, carrying a journal in one hand and apparently searching for a sword in his katana space with the other. "Oh, hell..." Sean muttered. "Angus, Terry, you guys are in the wrong fanfic," he said, approaching the two men. "Now, what you guys need to do is go back out of the Eudora folder and take a left..." Sean's voice faded as he led the men back out. When he returned, Sean smiled and said, "Hey, I can pull a shameless plug, too," and then he guided the two factions towards the couch so they could get their respective timelines straightened out. <><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> Since everyone else was busy making shameless plugs, I figured I could throw one in for my own fanfic series, of which Angus and Terry are the main characters.;) Anyway, next time anyone decides to use Duncan or the loft or dojo, _please_ contact me first . Sean A. Simpson -- Trekkie, X-Phile, Highlander, etc. stsas02@moravian.edu http://www.moravian.edu/people/students/stsas02 Rogue FW for Duncan and Methos Head DFW for the first Highlander Gathering bearing a @}-`--,--- and a /| O====[]=====================-- \| "rathlaHebj wa' neH" (There can be only one -- Klingon) "We're Starfleet officers. 'Weird' is part of the job." --- Capt. Janeway =========================================================================== Date: Thu, 21 Mar 1996 23:32:08 From: Dana Gunn Subject: WAR: Some transportation DATE: 3/19 WHEN: late afternoon. I picked up my backpack and got my cell phone. While I waited for Toni to pick up I flipped through the channels on the television. There were a few interesting shows, mostly sci-fi. The ringing stopped. "Hello." "Is this Toni", I asked. "Yes. Who's this?" "This is Dana. I wanted to let you and the group know that I am headed to a motorcycle dealer to pick up a bike and I'll meet everyone at Joe's." "OK. That sounds great. See you there." Grabbing my back pack I pushed the phone in a side pocket and headed to the elevator. I nearly ran over a maid in the hall. Obviously my mind is somewhere else. I apologized as I stepped in the elevator. Downstairs I checked with the clerk again abou the location of the motorcycle dealer and called a cab. The cab pulled up in front of the dealership on Fourth and Cambie. I got out and paid the cabbie. "Well, I was looking for something other than a BMW", I thought looking at the unmistakeable circle. Inside a salesman met me and of course started talking. (Is it just me or all salesmen alike?) Half an hour later I drove off the lot with a Honda Intruder that I bought from one of the mechanics there. Now, let's see . . . Where exactly is Joe's from here? Oh yeah, I remember now. I should have picked up a helmet cause I know I'm gonna look real windblown when I get there. The roar of the engine soon erased all the stray thoughts from my head as I concentrated on riding. -- Methos Faction Aut Pax Aut Bellum Dana Gunn of the Clan Gunn *8) =========================================================================== Date: Thu, 21 Mar 1996 20:56:50 From: Deb Palmer Subject: WAR: deb goes shopping What: deb goes shopping Who: Deb Palmer When: Tuesday, March 19, 1996, late afternoon Where: greater downtown Seacouver or wherever I end up Chattering excitedly among themselves, the Pissant Grad Students hit the elevator. After everyone had squeezed inside, they headed down to the lobby. Carol Ann struggled to get everyone's attention. "Okay, everyone listen up. We really need to think about what we're going to get Mary for a Christening gift. Unfortunately, Methos is in no condition to ask his opinion on a gift. Suggestions, anyone? Oh, and we need someone to go and get it as well." Everyone started talking at once--taking turns was not something the MFWs were good at. "Silver is traditional." "How about a rocking chair? My sister really liked having one for nursing." "Do you think Anne is going to nurse? She's an ER doctor. When's she going to have time?" "It was just a suggestion." "Yeah, we want to make sure we get something different." Deb and Carol Ann looked at each other and sighed. Getting this group to agree on something was going to be impossible. Deb groaned. She knew what that look in Carol Ann's eyes meant. She was about to be dispatched to get a Christening gift for a baby she didn't know, who belonged to a woman she didn't know. "Deb..." Carol Ann began. "Oh, all right! I'll go! But I'm going to get what I want! Why didn't you guys just bring a Mickey t-shirt from Disney World? Or some of those Mouse ears? And you guys are all going to chip in, right?" Deb looked around the group and saw everyone nodding agreement. "How long are you going to be at Joe's? Shall I meet you there or back here at HQ? And who's got the next watch on Methos? Carol Ann, you're in charge of that, right? I'm taking the midnight shift. Sheesh, this is getting complicated. I've got my cell phone. Why don't you call me when you leave Joe's and tell me what's happening?" The elevator doors slid open at the lobby as Deb finished speaking. "I'll see you guys later," she said as she headed towards her rental car, muttering to herself. "Oh, sure, send me after the gift. Like I have any idea what to buy. Stops me before I get to the good part of undressing Methos, leaves Cindy alone with him, and sends me, *me*, off to buy some baby present. Like I have any idea of where to go in this town for something like that. Maybe I can find a mall..." Still muttering, she reached the Miata she'd rented and climbed inside. Good thing it was a glorious day and she could put the top down. After doing that, she reached into the glove box and pulled out a bag of M & M's. Chocolate. Pure chocolate. That was the only thing that was going to get her through this. Driving through the streets of Seacouver one-handed, throwing M & Ms into her mouth with the other, she cruised around trying to find someplace...anyplace...that looked like it would sell something appropriate for a Christening. she thought, approaching what looked like a sizeable shopping center. Sure enough, the sign read "Seacouver Mall." (real original, huh?) She whipped into the parking lot and managed to find a spot close to the main entrance. (which tells you right away that this is a work of fiction...who gets those spaces, anyway?) Hopping out of the car, she headed inside, determined to find a unique, one of kind gift that would truly represent Methos and his flag wavers. Deb browsed through store after store, rejecting one item after another. Silver rattle? Way too boring. Ditto on the silver picture frame. In fact, none of this silver stuff would do at all. she thought as she cruised through cribs and high chairs. God, who would have thought that finding a present for a baby would be so hard? She was just about to give up and admit defeat, settling with something less than stellar, when a window display caught her eye. She moved closer and studied the window. she thought as she entered the store. Oh, everyone is going to love this... 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: Thu, 21 Mar 1996 01:05:39 From: Dana Gunn Subject: WAR: Waiting... DATE: 3/20/96 TIME: 11:30 PM After a long and hurried flight we finally land in Seacouver. "Are you going to hang around town for a while in case I need you?", I ask Christian over my shoulder shuffling toward a cab with my luggage. "Yeah, I'll be around. You've got my phone number and you'll probably be able to reach me here at the air port." "Thanks, I'll talk to ya in a while." I closed the door to the cab and settled beside my luggage in the back seat. "To the Four Season's hotel please." After a cab ride enduring the stereotypical cabbie chatter I was really in no mood to trifle with anyone once I got to the hotel. "I really should have rented a bike at the airport instead of taking a cab to the hotel." A motorcycle could come in handy too, but then again I don't know my way around town. I made it to the front desk with a bell boy in tow lugging all my crap and asked for a room on the 20th floor. The clerk eyed me nervously as I laid my hand down on the desk in fron of him. "I would like a room on the 20th floor", I asked politely in spite of my mood. "But sir," the clerk said "we have no more rooms on the 20th floor they have all been taken." "I know, and one of them is for me." I was beginning to get a bit testy. "Yes sir, I thought you might be with them." "Oh, and by the way I need to find a motorcycle while I'm here. Where could I get one?" My mood was beginning to turn a bit with the prospect of picking up a bike now on my mind. "There is a BMW dealer on Fourth and Cambie", the clerk offered without looking up. I followed the bell boy to my room and dumped my luggage on the bed. "Now, someone else has to be around here" I thought sitting down on the corner of the bed. -- Methos Faction Aut Pax Aut Bellum Dana Gunn of the Clan Gunn *8) =========================================================================== Date: Fri, 22 Mar 1996 21:41:53 From: Laura Ruggiero Subject: WAR: The PGSs are (Re)Introduced to Adam The PGSs are (Re)Introduced to Adam by Laura Ruggiero with additions by the PSGs Time: Tuesday, March 19, 1996, Early evening Right after " Cindy Talks to Adam" Place: Four Seasons, MFW HQ Methos may have been sober, however; he soon wished he was still plastered as he had barely opned the door to Cindy's room before he was swarmed by the Pissant Grad Students. Of course, he had been spending more time than he cared too these last few days with Joan, Carol Ann, Heidi, and Miracle. Jen he vaguely remembered, something about a cold shower and wet boxers. He also remembered Linda from that fateful seminar all those years ago. (Didn't a few of the others attend those seminars? He wasn't sure, there were so many women paying too much attention to him, and not enough to the speakers at those seminars.) "Oh Methos, you're awake, How are you feeling?" said one of the PGSs. Charyne Walker introduced herself first, "I'm Charlyne. Someday I'm going to have to tell you why you owe me a new wig...:)" Dana Gunn then came forward and Stuck his hand out to grasp Methos' in a firm masculine handshake, "Well, Adam, it seems that we are a couple of lucky guys to be surrounded by all these women." Methos nods and smiles. "Hi, Methos. I'm Deb. I just want to say that I never thought Alexa was good enough for you," said Deb Palmer "Hi again. Miracle,from Orlando," the red head in the Queen shirt said. She surveyed the room. "And I think I'm the youngest one in here. This is comet," she said,indicating the wombat at her feet. A tall woman with ruffled short blond hair, still dressed in riding breeches and a pair of dusty field boots ambled up and offered her hand. "I'm Lisa, Colonel of the Cavalry. We're here to bail you out when there'sneed for a fast exit." He nodded and inhaled sharply. "You smell like a horse." Lisa smirked back and cocked an eyebrow. "You smell like a brewery...so I guess we're even." "Nice spurs." She cocked another eyebrow and receded back into the crowd. "I'm Carol Ann," the shortest of the group said uneccessarily. Methos certainly remembered her (fuzzily) from the trip to Orlando. A taller auburn haired woman held out her hand. "Toni", she said. Methos took her hand and looked at her vaguely... "The night Joe's band played, right? You recognized me..." She nodded. "Thanks for not saying anything." Laura finally worked her way through the rest of the PSGs. "I can't believe I am finally talking to you. It's been so long since I saw you at that seminar. You are looking cute as ever. You are the kind of person who is just huggable like a teddy bear, I mean, you look like you would enjoy being hugged like a teddy bear" Laura stopped talking as she remembered she had to breathe , and no longer restaining herself, gave Methos the one of her patented rib cracking hugs. The rest of the PGSs looked at one another. Some were disgusted with such a display, some amused, most of the 20 odd PGSs were jealous they hadn't gotten to him first. Methos was soon buried under a mass of women all trying to hug him. It took awhile for the others to excavate Methos from the pile. The the next several hours were spent getting everyone updated on all that had occurred, and planning what they would do at the Christening tomorrow afternoon, and crowding around the computers, examining the contents of the CD. Everyone was concerned about Lizbet, and Charlyne was set the task of tracing the origin of Lizbet's last email message. "Sleep, who needs sleep? Working on a serious lack of sleep is one thing that Grad school has trained me well in," said one of the PGSs during this time. Eventually most of them did fall alseep, in chairs, on top of a computer keyboard, on the floor, or actually in a bed (not the correct one in all cases). Laura R. larug@siu.edu =========================================================================== Date: Wed, 20 Mar 1996 11:58:22 From: Sheila Marie Lane Subject: WAR: Waiting and hoping WAR: Waiting and hoping Tuesday (3/19) evening Richie's apartment "So, have you found your other flagwaver yet?" Richie asked. He was sitting on the couch in the living room, surrounded by the Richie Reserve as usual. For some reason, he didn't seem to be pulling away this time. Celli looked at him quizzically. Then she shot a look at Marina, who gave her a meaningful look back. "I'll tell you about it later," she mouthed. Celli shrugged and looked back at Richie. "Wendy? No, we haven't," she said. "We've tried everything we can. All we can do now is wait and hope." "I see." Celli started wandering aimlessly around the kitchen. She stopped and looked down at the counter. "Your mail's right here," she said. "What's in it?" "I didn't check." Her voice was a little sharper than usual. "Want me to?" The two looked at each other for a moment. Then Richie shrugged. "Sure, why not?" She started flipping through. "Bills...sweepstakes...bills...some kind of card from Anne." "Lindsay? What's it say?" She opened it. "Oh, it's about Mary. Her christening is--tomorrow!" "Yike!" Jen said. "That's short notice." "A christening in the middle of a War. Cute," Kim grumbled. "Are we going?" Laura Schomberg asked Richie. He shrugged. "Sure. I want to see the kid again. And we can keep an eye on her." "It's in a church. What could happen?" Diane looked unconcerned. Beth poked her. "It's a War. How about--anything!" "It's settled, then. We're going." Marina smiled up at Richie. He smiled back down at her. "All of you?" "Ah, no." Celli's voice startled all of them. "Somebody had better stay here, in case...I think I'll stay." The rest of the flagwavers looked at Celli. Some were confused, some concerned. Jen and Celli were the only ones who noticed Richie's face. He was relieved. "You know, I think I'll go for a walk," Celli said. She reached for her coat. Jen jumped up and crossed to her. "I'll walk you out." "What's up?" she asked when they were on the stairs. "Why did he--" Celli cut her off. "I don't know, and I don't want to know, okay? Don't talk about it." Her eyes were suspiciously bright. "Is that why you're staying?" "Well, not only." Celli lowered her voice. "You know how everybody keeps commenting on the broken lock?" "Yeah." "They all think you did it picking the lock." "You don't *break* a lock when you pick it. Not if you do a halfway decent job!" Celli smiled at her friend's indignant tone. "I know. And I also know that it didn't happen until sometime during the first night we were here. I don't want to freak anyone out, but this could be a problem." "I see. So someone needs to stay and keep an eye on things." "And it might as well be me." Celli looked a bit grim. "But don't tell anyone, okay? About any of it." "I promise." "Promise what?" They both started as Laura Michaels came up the stairs, fresh from *another* bookstore expedition. "Ahh...to get baby Mary a really good gift. Her christening is tomorrow." "Boy, you think fast," Celli muttered. She raised her voice. "I'll be back soon. See you later, guys!" "She looks worried," Laura commented as she and Jen headed back to the apartment. "You know Celli. She's always worried about something." Jen rushed on to another subject. "So, what should we get Mary?" ########################################################################## Sheila Marie Lane slane@sunbird.usd.edu http://www.usd.edu/~slane ########################################################################## "Where's the kaboom? There was supposed to be an earth-shattering kaboom!" -- Marvin the Martian (Welcome to the War!) ########################################################################## =========================================================================== Date: Wed, 20 Mar 1996 18:46:46 From: Sheila Marie Lane Subject: WAR: Yet another blatant plug WAR: Yet another blatant plug Tuesday, right after "Waiting and hoping" Richie's apartment All the flagwavers in the room were busily--and loudly--planning christening outfits and gifts. Even Richie was allowing himself to be reluctantly drawn into the fun. Then Beth, who had been leafing through a TV Guide ("I'm trying to get an idea of what cartoon stuff to get! Really!"), yelped. "What?" they all chorused. "Home Song is on tomorrow!" "It is?" "I don't believe we forgot!" "Richie, do you have a blank tape? We have to tape it in case we're not back yet!" "Wait a minute." Richie looked completely confused. "Home Song? What's that?" Beth grinned. "Just a TV-movie. This *really* cute guy, Stan Kirsch, is in it." "Stan Kirsch? Never heard of him." Marina piped up, "He was on Friends once. Gorgeous!" Richie looked slightly jealous. "Oh." CBS at 8 or 9! Set your VCRs! Celli ########################################################################## Sheila Marie Lane slane@sunbird.usd.edu http://www.usd.edu/~slane ########################################################################## "Where's the kaboom? There was supposed to be an earth-shattering kaboom!" -- Marvin the Martian (Welcome to the War!) ########################################################################## =========================================================================== Date: Wed, 20 Mar 1996 10:38:17 From: anonymous Subject: WAR: Mail problems, a Cylon plot 960319, Tuesday night, Richie's place, after Celli's surprise announcement about Anne and Mary's party Laura Michaels scanned her AOL e-mail for a message from Virginia. She had left her flashsession off, since it would take forever to download all the mail she was getting and there probably wouldn't be enough room on the hard drive anyway. No sign of anything from Virginia's AOL e-mail address. Laura hoped Virginia would get her e-mail problem fixed soon. The problems with e-mail boxes going down lately, brought to mind the old quote about the post office being a Cylon plot...or was it a Klingon plot. Laura couldn't help wondering if maybe all the problems with e-mail were actually a plot by the bad guys to keep various factions out of the war. They could be flooding e-mail boxes with commercial advertisements and bogus war messages just to knock out everyone's systems. There probably wasn't anything she could do about it though. She just hoped she didn't end up with so many messages in her own AOL box that it would start erasing the older ones to get back disk space. Laura put her new laptop away and started brainstorming about what to do about a present for Anne's baby party. She dug out the journal she'd bought for her mom during the vacation. (She could always get her mom another one.) She also found one of her black pens that looked like it still had some ink left in it and started adding some information to the journal. The writing wasn't perfect calligraphy like you might get from the output of a good crisp Lexmark laser printer and a WordPerfect program. It was unevenly spaced and the letters were various sizes, easy to see that this was done by a human and not a computer. Probably, if Anne was one of those types that didn't appreciate homemade gifts, she wouldn't appreciate this. But then, it was the thought that counted, right? Besides, Laura had never met Anne before and she would probably never see her again after this trip, so it didn't really matter. As she began working on turning the journal into a baby book to keep records of special moments, she couldn't help thinking about Virginia and Connor. Hanging out with them would probably have been a lot more fun than going to some old baby party. Yes, they were probably having a lot more fun.... * * * Laura's mind flashed back to the e-mail messages she'd received last year just after DragonCon. She hadn't gone, but a number of her friends who were members of the Official Christopher Lambert Online Fan Club had been there and filled her in afterwards. Connor had been there too. He had left New York for a quiet little vacation in Atlanta and a chance to check out a nice antique show at the Atlanta convention center. Little did he know, booking reservations for the hotel he had randomly chosen was going to be a big mistake. There was some kind of crazy convention going on with all kinds of crazy people and most of them were convinced that Connor was a guy named Rayden from Mortal Kombat. Luckily, he had run into the CL Online Fan Club. Connor soon found out they were fans of an international actor who had played in Lord Greystoke and Mortal Kombat. (Connor had been a fan of the Edgar Rice Burroughs novels himself when they had first come out.) The fan club knew immediately that he wasn't Rayden. For one thing, he looked younger and for another, his hair was too blonde. Besides his eyes didn't have that electric glow to them. (At least not unless he was having one of his stranger than usual Quickenings, but then the group didn't know about those at the time.) Anyway, the group had taken an immediate liking to Connor and he to them. They managed to keep him away from most of the crowds that weekend and got in several interesting conversations. They even had one discussion where they were all handing their glasses around to each other trying to find out who was the most near sighted. Connor couldn't make out anything when he tried the various glasses. Immortals, of course, had perfect vision. According to the various posts Laura had received from her friends at the fan club, they had all had a wonderful time in Atlanta last year. * * * Laura finished printing the wording for the page she was on and skipped over to another blank page a little further into the journal. *Sure wish I was with Virginia and Connor right now*, Laura thought. *I bet they're having a lot more fun than we are.* Laura Michaels p004927b@pbfreenet.seflin.lib.fl.us http://members.aol.com/lauram3017/index.html =========================================================================== Date: Wed, 20 Mar 1996 16:53:51 From: anonymous Subject: WAR: Methos Chronicles 960319, Tuesday night, Richie's place, just after the "WAR: Mail problems, a Cylon plot" post Laura Michaels stopped working on the journal. Something about the e-mail messages she'd quickly skimmed (and not bothered to read properly) was bothering her. No. It wasn't the post from one of her mailing lists that mentioned "jaunting". At the time, it had brought to mind the Tomorrow People, but Laura quickly decided that was impossible. It had to be a post from an English member of the mailing list. She had spent the weekend with members of the 13th Tribe at the Galactica con and knew from very recent experience they used some very unusual colloquialisms. No. It couldn't have referred to the Tomorrow People. She must have been watching too much of the original series on WXEL before she left for the con. They had just run the episodes where Andrew in Scotland broke out and became a Tomorrow Person and was creating a telepathic ghost image of a beheaded Scot. Definitely too much of the old series Tomorrow People and not enough of the new series on in Laura's area. Actually, the post that was really bothering her, and caused her to stop entering calligraphic text in the journal and pull out her new laptop once again, was the message about the Methos Chronicles. She had read a forwarded message about it being missing and if that was true, there was no telling who could be looking for it. She checked to see if Carol Ann just happened to be on AOL at the time. Maybe Laura could IM her. No suck luck. Why wasn't she getting any mail from her pen pals? She hadn't heard from Virginia since the e-mail message Monday and from Carol Ann since the phone call Sunday. Laura quickly pulled up her online address book and got Carol Ann's e-mail address then started typing: To: GrinnyP@aros.net CC: Subject: Methos Chronicles File: Carol Ann, Just had this crazy thought. Did you switch the Methos Chronicles and the Richie Forever Journals over to the Syquest backup system like you said you were going to and do you happen to have it on you? I was thinking, if the Methos Chronicles are missing, someone might mistake your Methos Chronicles for the Methos Chronicles. I mean, they might mistake the 'zine for the real thing. Be careful. Keep on trekking. Laura Michaels http://members.aol.com/lauram3017/index.html Laura clicked the send icon and then though better of it. She wished she hadn't just sent that message. What was the worst thing that could happen if someone found Carol Ann's Methos Chronicles by mistake and thought they were the real Chronicles? Well Gabrielle could talk the reader to death in the Hercules/Xena story. And it really wouldn't hurt any if someone actually believed Methos had possession of one of Hephaestus' swords. True, it wasn't an Excalibur or an Albion, but Hephaestus was a legendary swordsmith. Laura was distracted from her worries by Richie's approach. "Hiya Richie sweetheart. Aren't you cute," Laura Michaels said in a high-pitched tone. Richie, the Immortal, was surprised. "Huh?" "I was talking to the dog," Laura replied as she put out her hand in front of Richie the dog for him to smell first and decide if he wanted to be petted. Richie wagged his tail and stood still for a few pats. "Oh," said Richie. Upon hearing the voice of the person who had been named after him, Richie decided to trot over and find out if his namesake was any better at giving pettings. "I have a tape of Diefenbaker around here somewhere," Laura told Richie (the dog). She had taped Due South last Friday during the convention. Richie ignored the comment and headed off. Obviously, he wasn't as big a fan of shows about wolves as Laura was. Laura picked up her recently acquired, stuffed daggit and starting petting it occasionally instead as she returned her attention to the journal she was working on. Laura Michaels p004927b@pbfreenet.seflin.lib.fl.us http://members.aol.com/lauram3017/index.html =========================================================================== Date: Thu, 21 Mar 1996 00:54:25 From: Sandy Fields Subject: WAR: Pizza! Pizza! Title: Pizza! Pizza! Author: Sandy Fields Date: Tuesday, 3/19 Around 7 p.m. Place: Seacouver Hilton The ladies were just a bit tired after their lunch at Joe's and their sightseeing trip that afternoon. After pulling a few G's in Queen Tiye's silver Toyota, they had decided to do as much of their sightseeing by foot as possible. Somebody's gotta teach that woman to drive below 80! Let's see...they had found Joe's old bookstore, what used to be the antique store, and even the lighthouse! Oh yeah (how could they forget?)... they had actually seen HIM! It was probably natural that the Queen drives like a speed demon. After spending all that time fussing with makeup (gotta get that eyeshadow on just right, you know), she's probably always running late! But at least she didn't have to fool around with her hair. Good looks aren't the only reason braids are so popular nowadays! No-maintenance hair... now *that's* what I like! And anyway, the makeup ritual had given the Motor City Mama time to check up on her email. The others had kept asking what in the world she was getting on that laptop that was so important; but she just kept telling them she'd let them know when the time came. After their little jaunt around Seacouver, they had all piled back into the Silver Streak in search of -- you guessed it -- FOOD. It was getting late, and their stomachs were beginning to harmonize. Charlotte was adamant that they were not going to eat at that hotel again, so they drove around looking for the hamburger and steak that they had tried to get earlier in the day, but had been offered free pizza instead. After driving around for an hour and a half, being unfamiliar with the city, (all of them are terrible with directions anyway), the crabbiness of four hungry women began to show itself. The bickering was starting to grow more intense when the Queen swerved and slammed on the brakes in front of a small storefront that boasted a sign, "Toni's Restaurant". Surely they'd be able to get a decent meal in here. Upon entering and seating themselves in a booth, they discovered the heading on the menu "Toni's Pizzeria". The moan that came from the table jaunted the sleepy waitress, who timidly approached the table. But there was nothing for her to worry about. Before she could get there, they were up and gone! They went back to the hotel and had reluctantly decided to try the hotel eatery again when the phone rang. Jo picked up the phone. It was another of their friends, just arrived from Missouri. "Hi guys! I finally made it! I'm in the lobby, and I thought you might be hungry, so I brought us a snack. Give me the room number and I'll be right up!" The usually quiet preschool director fell to her knees with a shout. "What on earth is it?" shouted Sandy. "Barb's here and she brought food!" They cleared off the little hotel-room table to make way for their expected feast, and waited for their meal...err... friend to arrive. They heard someone coming down the hall and had the door opened even before Barb could adjust her baggage to free up one hand to knock. Cheerfully, Barb gave out with a "Hey guys... bet you didn't think I was coming, did you? So when do we go to the dojo?" But she was met with the mean stares of four women that looked as if they had just taken on a dark quickening. They couldn't believe their eyes as they stared at the two thin square boxes in their friend's hands. On the boxes was written one word: Pizza =========================================================================== Date: Thu, 21 Mar 1996 18:53:47 From: Sean A.Simpson Subject: WAR: For lack of anything better to do... Title: For lack of anything better to do... Or, What the Hell Are the DFW's Doing Tuesday Night? Author: Sean A. Simpson Place: The loft and dojo Time: 8:00 PM Reason: Because Rob has hit Weird-o-Max and I'm trying to keep up Sean suddenly jerked awake and looked around the room. Just what the hell does Duncan do with his spare time? There's no books, no TV...nothing. He can't work out _all_ the time. That was when Sean noticed that the maScot wasn't in the loft, although everyone else was doing the same thing Sean had been a moment ago: dozing lightly. Sean stepped into the freight elevator and hit the button to go down to the dojo. Odd how the thing always managed to be in the right place at the right time... Ignoring the panel that flashed as the elevator went from level to level, Sean instead focused his attention on the odd images he could see through the bars of the door. Was that a... no, it couldn't be. The last of them had died out about sixty-five million years ago. Hmmm... maybe _this_ was what Duncan did with his spare time. The elevator suddenly came to a halt, and then the _back_ of it opened. Curious, Sean stepped through the newly formed door, completely oblivious to its disappearance behind him. The scene before him looked like something out of Star Trek. Judging by the yellow lines breaking up the black walls into a grid, it was the Holodeck. Out of curiousity, Sean called out, "Computer." A beeping noise replied. Hmmm... this is _really_ interesting... Sean decided that, if he was on a Holodeck, he'd at least have some fun with it. "Can you give me a forest scene? Say, New England, late spring?" Trees, ferns, and various other flora obligingly materialized, and it was immediately followed by the sounds of the fauna of New England. This was good, but Sean wanted something a little more... unusual. "Computer, make every green into a corresponding shade of blue." Obediently, the greenery suddenly became bluery. "Now make all the grays and browns into shades of orange." Suddenly the forest was a riot of colors. Sean was just as suddenly glad that he didn't indulge in hallucinogens; otherwise, he might have been overwhelmed. "Make everything that was previously brown into a shade of purple." The forest became even more hideous, and Sean squealed with delight. However, he was beginning to get a headache, and there had to be other things in the building to explore. "Computer, end program." The forest of dementia suddenly vanished into the yellow-and-black grid that had been there before. Sean turned around to leave and noticed the vanished door. "Computer, create a door to the freight elevator." A door appeared, and Sean stepped through it into the freight elevator. Sean once again hit the switch, and he descended farther into the building. After several minutes of continuous descending, Sean noticed that it was getting rather hot in the elevator. Then the elevator ground to a halt, and Sean opened the door to an even more bizarre scene than the one before. Every K'immie that Duncan had ever killed was in this room, chained to the wall. A pair of goatlike beings were in attendance, playing TicTacToe on the chest of Kalas with something that looked hot, red, and painful. However, they were getting annoyed because the burns were healing as fast as the poor devils could make them. Suddenly, one of them turned and noticed Sean standing in the elevator, agape at the scene. "Oh, heaven. Another one has taken the elevator too far down. Look, just hit the switch on the inside of the elevator. Yeah, that's the one. Now, that should take you back up to the dojo. Now don't go wandering around in that building again!" Sean nodded as the elevator closed and it began to rise. After a minute or so, Sean realized that it was moving up at a _diagonal_! After another minute or two, the elevator was engulfed in complete darkness, and then it came to another grinding halt. Tentatively, Sean put out a hand and felt... wood? Sean pushed on it, and the panel came flying open beneath his hand. Not prepared for the sudden shift, Sean fell forward, landing in a heap in... the loft? He stood up, turned around, and looked where he'd just come through. Standing there, looking completely innocent, was Duncan's wardrobe. Sean shook his head in disbelief and closed the wardrobe's door. Turning back around, Sean saw the freight elevator standing open, as if nothing was out of the ordinary. Then he noticed a note on the kitchen counter. Sean walked down to the kitchen and picked up the note. "Sean -- Guess you went on a walk or something. Hope you didn't get lost. Anyway, we're down in the dojo with Duncan. Come on down and join us when you get back. We sent the elevator back up for you. DFW" Sean decided to take the stairs instead. <=>-<=>-<=>-<=>-<=>-<=>-<=>-<=>-<=>-<=>-<=>-<=>-<=>-<=>-<=>-<=>-<=>-<=>-<=>-<=> Damn, that was fun to write. I should do that more often... Sean A. Simpson -- Trekkie, X-Phile, Highlander, etc. stsas02@moravian.edu http://www.moravian.edu/people/students/stsas02 Rogue FW for Duncan and Methos Head DFW for the first Highlander Gathering bearing a @}-`--,--- and a /| O====[]=====================-- \| "rathlaHebj wa' neH" (There can be only one -- Klingon) "We're Starfleet officers. 'Weird' is part of the job." --- Capt. Janeway =========================================================================== Date: Fri, 22 Mar 1996 23:16:05 From: Charlyne Linda Walker Subject: WAR: Finding Lizbet Title: Finding Lizbet by: Charlyne Walker Time: Late Tuesday, March 19 & Wednesday, March 20 about 6:30 am Late Tuesday, March 19 Charlyne knew that she had to grab some sleep *sometime* tonight or she would fall asleep at the christening tomorrow. She decided that she has better check mail just in case something happened that needed attention. The first thing she saw was this message: ----------------------------------------------------------------------- To: From: Lizbet Date: 19 Mar 96 Subject: Help, I've been kidnapped! To all MFWs... I've been kidnapped again! Please, if there is anyone who can track this transmission and get me, DO SO! Lizbet ----------------------------------------------------------------------- I guess there is no rest for the weary... Charlyne knew that she could help find Lizbet! She called Heather's room to see if she had gotten the message. There was no answer, so either she had not gotten back to her room yet or she was dead asleep. I had better post a message to the group and let them know that I am working on tracking Lizbet down. With the message posted, Charlyne set to work. The first step is to find out if this is a real address or a mail exchange. At the system prompt I typed: methos#1:~$ nslookup -query=Any wombats.0tails.com A few seconds later, the results appeared... Server: ns.mfw.org Address: 126.49.28 nameserver = NS2.GATE.NET Authoritative answers can be found from: methos.mfw.org internet address = ###.##.##.## NS.GATE.NET internet address = 199 "Okay, it's at least a machine somewhere on the net and not someone's remailer or something like that. Now, I need to check the mail logs and make sure this wasn't a forgery. Thank God, Heather is paranoid about system security. Nothing strange in the logs and the headers look okay." Charlyne muttered to herself as she reviewed the output. *Now to run a traceroute to see who the wombats are getting their Inet service from. *Great! I know that guy!* I just need to fire off a quick e-mail to that buddy of an ISP of mine, if he gives me any static I'll just remind him of those "candid" party pictures I took last Halloween.* She send the message to Dale and tumbled into bed to catch a few hours of sleep. Her last [semi]-coherent thought before she passed out entirely was *Boy, I'm starting to feel like Sandra Bullock in "The Net"... *************************************************************** Wednesday, March 20 about 6:30 am Charlyne woke up early, even though she went to bed late last night, and decided to check her mail and see what was happening with the faction. She saw the message from Dale about a possible location for Lizbet. *OK Dale, you had better come through or those pictures go up on my Web Page!* she thought to herself as she pulled up the message. ------------------------------------------ TO: Charlyne Walker From: Dale Buddy Subj: RE: Traceroute You can put away those pictures, I found your location. It is a tres cool looking estate on the corner Ocean Drive and 143 Street. According to my sources it is on the outskirts of town. later... ------------------------------------------ Charlyne send a thank you reply, and just as she was getting ready to forward the message to the other... ------------------------------------------ TO: Charlyne Walker From: Anonymous@secret.net Subj: Meeting ASAP If you want to get Lizbet back unharmed Adam Pierson had better meet us by noon today. We know you have the address. He better come alone and unarmed. ------------------------------------------ *Oh, boy* Charlyne decided that the PGS need to meet to formulate a plan, so she posted an emergency message and made her way to the computer room. The other PGS received the following: ------------------------------------------ TO: @PGS From: Charlyne@mfw.org Subj: Emergency meeting, Lizbet in danger We need to meet ASAP to discuss the message that I have included below. Meet me as soon as you can in the computer room, and make sure that Methos is there... ********************************************************************** =========================================================================== Date: Sat, 23 Mar 1996 01:38:11 From: Carol Ann Liddiard Subject: WAR: Flying Dogs, part II by Heidi McKeon Flying Dogs II Time: Tuesday night, March 19, 1996, @10pm Place: Seacouver Heidi checked her watch, just enough time to get from the hotel to the airport, rent a van and pick up the dogs. She hailed a cab and headed to the airport, rented a van, and made it to cargo just as the dogs were being brought into the holding area. She whistled a signal to the dogs that she was there and they immediatly began their songs. Howling and barking sounded in 1,2,3 voices. Great he sent Matti, the fluff muffin, she was her favorite and would be great for everyone to cuddle with. Heidi loaded the three kennels into the van, let the dogs out and headed back to the hotel. Now when they were ready to begin their search for Wendy and Lizbet the dogs would be there. Heck maybe Matti could help straighten out the intoxicated Methos. After all wasn't holding and petting a dog good therapy? Unloading the dogs at the Hotel, Heidi snuck Matti into Methos' room. she thought as she continued on to her own room. 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 11:09:25 From: anonymous Subject: WAR: Status Report for Connor 960319, Tuesday 11:30 PM, Richie's place Laura Michaels vowed she would never do this again. Here she was trying to sleep in a room of chattering women, all talking about, what else...men. Maybe they could make do with 4 hours sleep, but Laura liked to at least get in 8 to 10 hours. Next time, she decided she was going to stay at the hotel. All right so it was $150 a night. Or sleep in the rental car. She'd promised she'd never do this again after that choir trip to Galveston, where her friends had been up all night discussing, what else...boys. She'd ended up grabbing the blankets and trying to sleep in the bathroom. David was probably sleeping in the bathroom. And we couldn't disturb Richie, could we? No, disturbing an Immortal who's been training to kill was definitely not a good idea. Laura'd seen enough TV shows about mercenaries to know that. Giving up on the idea of sleeping, Laura decided to get some work done. She pulled out a copy of her printed source code. She was still trying to work out some details on her AVL tree class and the helper class that would let it work with STL algorithms. After going over it and writing in some corrections and additions, she began wishing she'd managed to procure a compiler with the laptop. Face on the A-Team would have been able to get one, she thought. Laura gave up on her project and checked her e-mail. Still no messages from Virginia. Might as well keep her up-to-date though. Laura decided to send Virginia a status report. To: VFoster042 CC: Subject: Status Report File: Nothing much going on here so far. Checked out the local mall, (of course). Had some weird trouble this afternoon, but Richie seems none the worse for wear. Actually seemed pretty happy about it. Said something about planning a trip to Hollywood when this was all over. We just found out tonight, there's going to be a baby party...one of those christening things, some time Wednesday. Thought you might want to know because it's Connor's cousin's ex-girlfriend's kid who's getting the party. Then again if it's an ex-girlfriend maybe Connor won't be all that interested after all. Oh, and I almost forgot. Best news of all. I actually got to see Connor's cousin Duncan this afternoon. Ask Connor if it's just me or if anyone else thinks he just happens to look a lot like that actor who plays John Kincaid, will you? Of course, the guy who played Kincaid is definitely cuter, but then I prefer guys with short hair. Write back soon. Laura Michaels http://members.aol.com/lauram3017/index.html Laura read over the note to check for spelling. Must have been all the talk about guys going on in the room that had made her start mentioning cute actors. *Oh well, Virginia hopefully won't expect me to write anything coherent at this hour anyway.* Laura clicked the send icon. She was too tired to go back and rewrite the thing. She dug out her latest issue of The Monthly (the adzine that lists what fanzines are available and what fanzines are in the works), and tried to ignore the chatter. Laura Michaels p004927b@pbfreenet.seflin.lib.fl.us http://members.aol.com/lauram3017/index.html =========================================================================== Date: Tue, 19 Mar 1996 19:33:19 From: Heather L. Garvey Subject: WAR: MFW Computer Network Arrives in Seacouver Heather yawned hugely as she rolls into Seacouver, riding high above the traffic in the biggest Rent-A-Truck Ryder makes. As the Four Seasons came into view, she relaxed slightly. *Please, God, let them have hot showers...* Two and a half days in this Hauler From Hell was getting on her nerves and even intravenous caffiene couldn't keep her awake much longer.... She napped briefly in the long ride up to the concierge level, propped against a corner. Checking in had been easy - just mentioning Toni had gotten her keys and it looked like a number of the Grad Students were already in-house. *Good. Darned if *I'm* carrying everything up from the truck... * she thought as the elevator stopped. Dragging herself out of the elevator, Heather summoned the energy to call out "Honey, I'm hoooome!" Within minutes, a brigade was assembled to fetch the cargo up the freight elevator and big heavy boxes started appearing in the main room of HQ. "How many computers did you BRING, Heather?" Toni asked as she shifted the last one off a dolly with a thump, waking Heather from another catnap. "Be careful with that! Those disks are cranky enough as it is. There's three UNIX servers with several Gig of diskspace apiece, a router, enough fiber to network the lot of them and some to spare to network your PCs. That box has extra PC-type fiber ethernet cards if you need them. See if any fit. I brought a terminal server, but I couldn't get the extra modems - we'll have to make do with what we've got." Heather rummaged around in a small box and started handing out power strips. "Here, spread these around. We'll need them." "Where'd you get all of this??" Deb asked, while wondering silently where they'd *put* all of this stuff. "Most of it belongs to my boyfriend. He's probably going to kill me when he sees the note I left in his apartment..." Heather plopped down in an armchair and started unpacking the SparcBook from its carrycase. "Does anyone know where I can get a Pepsi?" -_-_-_-_-_ Halfway through the unboxing, Jen walked up, covered with little styrofoam peanuts static-clinging to her. "Did you send some of your stuff FedEx?" Laura popped her head up from the pile of cardboard boxes. "That's my brother's stuff!" (Oblivious in her caffeine-overdose-sugar-rush-sleep-deprivation state, Heather continues pounding on her SparcBook. "Rassafrassin' cellular modem...") The FedEx boxes are opened, revealing a potpourri of high-tech notebook computers and other spiffy "toys". "Hey, cellular phones! Do we each get one?" "Is this laser printer color or black and white?" "What are these?" "Modems, 28.8 by the look of them..." "*Two* more notebooks computers?" "Ick, a Mac!" "Here's an IBM PC..." "I don't think I'm letting my brother have this PowerBook back..." -_-_-_-_-_ Eventually, the furor dies down and the packing peanuts are peeled off and the empty boxes sent back down to the truck. By morning, there's a terminal or computer in every room and all the phone lines have modems off of them. All of it is networked and mail is running smoothly (although Heather needed to switch from Pepsi to alcoholic cider before she got through with it). --------------------- To: PGS@joes.seacouver.wa.us (Pissant Grad Students) From: heather@joes.seacouver.wa.us Subject: Mail Aliases Hey, everyone... Before I go unconscious for the next day or so, just wanted to let you know the network is up. Mail me at the above address if you want accounts or mail aliases set up. --------------------- Snores emanate from Heather's room as she sleeps for the first time in three days.... [Before anyone thinks the above is impossible, I am an actual sysadmin, my SO is an actual network engineer, and YES, he does have several servers networked in his apt, with the bathroom being the only room without a computer....You'd be surprised how much one can accumulate in the way of spare parts and cards, too... I *can* get all of the above either by ransacking his apt or a tiny, tiny bit of "borrowing" from work (mostly for the fiber cabling).] =========================================================================== Date: Tue, 19 Mar 1996 20:50:23 From: Doc Anvil Subject: WAR: Somebody call for a Pepsi? Somebody order a Pepsi? Randy Ferrance/minor plagiarism of Heather's post:) right after Heather's plagiarised post Same place as Heather's plagiarised post > "Most of it belongs to my boyfriend. He's probably going to kill > me when he sees the note I left in his apartment..." Heather plopped > down in an armchair and started unpacking the SparcBook from its > carrycase. "Does anyone know where I can get a Pepsi?" As if on cue, what might have been a fuzzy brown thing - only it moved so quickly no one saw it, they only felt the breeze - and a slight nipping at the calves - raced through the fozen frame, placing a Pepsi can in Heather's hand. If Heather were to look closely, she'd see the the caricature of the small ursipine looking creature poking out from the 'e' in Pepsi, and the words, "Official Soft Drink of Highlander FanFic War '96". ****** Fifteen miles away...... The tech nearly jumped as the picture of the woman lept onto his screen. Sound followed a moment later. > > -_-_-_-_-_ > "Did you send some of your stuff > FedEx?" > Laura popped her head up from the pile of cardboard boxes. "That's > my brother's stuff!" > (Oblivious in her caffeine-overdose-sugar-rush-sleep-deprivation > state, Heather continues pounding on her SparcBook. "Rassafrassin' cellular > modem...") > > The FedEx boxes are opened, revealing a potpourri of high-tech > notebook computers and other spiffy "toys". > "Hey, cellular phones! Do we each get one?" > "Is this laser printer color or black and white?" > "What are these?" "Modems, 28.8 by the look of them..." > "*Two* more notebooks computers?" > "Ick, a Mac!" "Here's an IBM PC..." > "I don't think I'm letting my brother have this PowerBook back..." > The computer searched, then came up with the name. Heather, it read. He swiveled down his little wire mic. "We have feed from MethosCam," he reported. anvil =========================================================================== Date: Tue, 19 Mar 1996 21:03:45 From: Doc Anvil Subject: WAR: Undercover wombat Undercover wombat Author: Classified Early in the war.... Payphone. ....forwarded for said undercover wombat.... > > from Wombat operative codename: Shadow > > It was time to report. I made my way to a pay phone as soon as I was alone. > I dialed a number from memory. > > "Yeah?" > > "Doc? It's me." > > "I was wondering when I'd hear from you. We had a meeting. We were talking > about disbanding the Duncan team soon. But the others don't know about you. > We'll keep it that way for a while. Do you know what's going on, yet?" > > "I've picked up bits and pieces. So Horton's alive? I tell you, Doc, If I > ever run into that son of a bitch, I'll make sure he bites it. This is > getting ridiculous. Every time we turn around, he's alive again. Oh, I saw > Duncan a little while ago." > > "Where's he at now?" > > "I'm not sure. I'm with people and couldn't follow him. He was at the > Seacouver airport with a couple of women. They looked like old friends, I > might have recognized one of them, but I'm not sure. Neither were Imies, > though. Listen, Doc, I've got a question. Do we have anyone on........" > > THE REST OF THIS TRANSMISSION IS CLASSIFIED. WOMBAT EYES ONLY. =========================================================================== Date: Tue, 19 Mar 1996 16:19:54 From: Nerida Bridgeford Subject: WAR: Butt Espionage We're here!! For those of you who don't know us: We're Lurkers, we lurk in corners We do our little thing in the bathroom. ************************************************************** At some point during the last day or so: It was one of those days. You know those days, the kind of day when you realize that you've left an unshaved patch down the front of your leg or when you discover that you're out of toilet paper, after the deed is already done. It was the kind of day when two strange women known as the Lurkers were out and about and doing what came naturally. Maddog perched on the edge of the tub, her balance made precarious by the uncured epoxy she was holding. She'd nearly gotten the surface of the shower nozzel coated enough that she could finish the job. "Oi, you done with that?" Rastro asked, she'd finished cleaning the small hole she'd drilled in the wall. "Just about, I think that the two was definitely the way to go." "Yeah," Rastro took the epoxy that Maddog held out to her. "It'll mean double the amount of goods to sell. And besides, I think we'll get more for the back shots. Female demographics being what they are." The two worked in silence for several minutes while the epoxy cured and the connections were checked. Rastro stuck her head out the small window to make sure that the satellite dish they'd installed earlier on the roof wasn't visible from it. That's when she spotted a car pulling up. "Oi, we'd better move it. He's on his way up." "Does he look sweaty?" Maddog asked, drool starting to run down her chin at the thought. "Yeah, he's been jogging by the look of things," Rastro leered and rubbed her hands together. They were going to make a virtual fortune. "Or running away from obsessed fans. There's a whole bunch of other people in that car." "Must be some of the Duncan faction. Anyway, everything's set," Maddog put the finishing touches on the two cameras they'd installed in Duncan's shower. He'd never be able to spot them unless he looked very closely, and why would he. "We don't have time to steal any of his underwear do we?" "No, better not, we'll do it next time, when the other thing arrives," Rastro thumbed the interdimensional tesserect and warped time and space. "Let the fun begin!" she shouted just as the tesserect opened up and Duncan opened the door. (shower scene deleted in the interests of a PG rating) ***************************************************************** (We figured we'd better get into the fray or lose our reputations. However, due to the Love Boat running over on the Forever Knight channel, we'll stay fairly quiet for the time being and try not to tread on any toes. Much...). The Lurkers (no affiliation tho we are open to bribes) =========================================================================== Date: Wed, 20 Mar 1996 13:28:48 From: Joan Mann Subject: WAR: Pissants Heading West Time:Tuesday, 3/19, Place: Somewhere over the midwest Who's there: Pissant Grad Students + a darling old man "Methos," Joan whispered, careful not to wake the sleeping Heidi, "do you think they're all buying this drunken act?" "Shhh, luv, be quiet," he said, "my strength lies in others thinking I'm weak." "How did you think I got to be 5000 years old?" "Just play along with me for awhile." "I think it's working great. Did you see that disgusted look that Miracle gave me when I was trading insults with the French worker?" "OK," Joan said, "thank goodness we both have a great capacity for liquor or we might have done something a little crazy.." Methos grinned and ruffled her hair, "It's not inconceivable." Just then, a beep came from Carol Ann's laptop, indicating that some mail had arrived. Carol Ann's face went white. "Carol Ann," Methos said, "you look terrible, what's wrong?" "Methos," Carol Ann replied, "we need to talk." =========================================================================== Date: Wed, 20 Mar 1996 14:27:17 From: Elizabeth Ann Lewis Subject: WAR: Beep, beep Beep, Beep By Elizabeth Ann Lewis Tuesday, March 18th Somewhere over the Midwest In an amazingly clear voice for a man who had been downing drinks like a fish, Methos asked, "What's the matter?" Without a word, Carol Ann swivled the laptop around so Methos could read the screen. --------------- TO: @PSG.dis CC: SUBJ: Trouble waiting to happen Bad news. Alexa and her new "SO" is here at the Four Seasons. This could be trouble. Cindy & I will try to find out what room they are staying in, and how long they are going to be here. We will let you know when we have more details. Charlyne & Cindy ------------------------ Methos started cursing under his breath. "Go ahead, say it out loud," Joan invited. "It's not like we are on WGN or USA." "Of all the gin joints in all the world," Methos muttered. The corner of his mouth drooped, and every MFW was poised to jump and comfort him when the laptop beeped again. -------------------------- To: From: Lizbet Date: 17 Mar 96 Subject: Help, I've been kidnapped! To all MFWs... I've been kidnapped again! Please, if there is anyone who can track this transmission and get me, DO SO! Lizbet ------------------------------- Methos pointed at the screen. "Who's Lizbet, and why has she been kidnapped? Repeatedly, as it would seem?" "She's the one who started all of this," Carol Ann explained. "She found a copy of a medieval Methos Chronicle, and saw Horton trying to page it from the library..." ================================================== Lizbet |~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ elewis@ucla.edu | METHOS!!!!! ~ Co-Warmistress for |~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ the first Highlander| "Arnyd yw Ewyll hyd yw" Gathering | Passion is the will to be