By the Pricking of My Thumbs, Something UFfish This Way Comes by Zeph and assorted Uffers November 8, 2004 The Hive, UF HQ, 5:43 pm A huge pile of luggage on wheels carefully turned into the driveway of the Hive, wobbling slightly as it navigated the turn. Nancy's black and yellow Mini Cooper, barely visible underneath, swooped into alignment with the curb at the front entrance and began disgorging weary passengers. Nancy, Tamara, and Zeph climbed out slowly. Carrie Ann the dachshund bounced out excitedly, wuffling happily, as they made their way up the front walkway to the mansion. "Where is everybody?" Tamara asked, surprised that no one was there to greet them. "I thought we'd be the last ones here," said Nancy, "after our problems on the way!" Zeph rang the doorbell, hearing it echo dismally within the empty building. "Houston, we have a problem." She began searching around the door. "Now if I were a key, where would I be?" Carrie Ann joined in the fun, rooting under stones in the flower beds flanking the entrance. "Carrie Ann! Don't damage the--- Oh, good girl, good girl. A key!" Nancy took the key from her dog---slightly damp---and opened the door. "Hellllloooo," she called. "Hellooo!" The sound echoed eerily. No one was home. No one had been home for some time. The rooms were all empty; a faint aura of disuse clung to the very air they breathed. Finally, the three assembled in the main room. "Something's wrong," Tamara said anxiously. "My very first war, and I don't understand!" Zeph picked up the phone and called Les. No answer. She called Julia. The others listened, baffled, to Zeph's terse end of the conversation, then Zeph lowered the handset and faced them. "There's been a major failure to communicate. Julia's handcuffed to her front porch, Les is missing in action, and there are UFfers stranded all over the continent waiting. It's up to US!" "I've just driven here from Minneapolis!" objected Nancy. "I'm exhausted." "My car's at LAX," mourned Tamara. Zeph turned back to the phone. "Julia? I can only think of one solution... Don Constantine." --------- With Susan and April---Mid-afternoon "Are you almost done packing everything, Susan? It's getting late!" "Yeah, hang on." Susan stepped out of her apartment carrying her two Chihuahuas, Cujo and Spudley, and her pet cat Angelique in pet carriers. "Can't they stay home?" "WHAT? you want me to leave my children alone for two weeks?" "Forget I said anything. Is that it now?" April asked, looking over the three tons of luggage Susan had brought. "Hmmm, let me think. Yup! We are ready to move out!" April loaded Susan's endless stuff into the back, then got behind the wheel of her Dakota. A terrible hissing sound began, and the truck sank lower to the ground. "No, No, tell me it's not happening again!!" April moaned, banging her head on the steering wheel. "You know, April, you really ought to get better tires," Susan said, adjusting the radio to her favorite station and unconcernedly munching an apple. April grabbed her cell phone. "Hello? Is this the tow truck company? The one with the motto, 'You break it, we haul it?'" "Yes, Ma'am." "I need to get to Toronto as soon as possible. Can I get my flats fixed in less then an hour?" "Yeah, sure, lady---if they're the kind you wear on your feet." April's face told Susan this wasn't the time to tell her that Spudley needed to *go*. Four hours later, the pair was finally on their way. "Train travel is nice this time of the year, isn't it, April?" April didn't answer as the train went chugging down the tracks. ------- Astoria, Queens, 5:48 pm Being cold and cranky, sitting on a cement stoop in November, handcuffed yet, is not, perhaps, the ideal situation in which to attempt to sweet-talk a vampiric crime boss. On the other hand... "Don Constantine? Good afternoon, this is Julia." After a short pause: "Julia. Ah, yes. It has been a while since you've called on me. What can I do for you?" "Well, sir, it's time for another FK War. I know it's short notice, but may we use The Hive again this year?" "Certainly. The mansion is ready for your..." Julia was sure the next word would be "depredations," but was relieved to hear him say, "visit." "Thank you, sir." Julia was not in the habit of calling people "sir" very often, but it *was* War, and he *was* both a vampire and a successful "businessman." "Sir, if it's not too much to ask, could your staff also provide transportation for several members of the UF?" (I'm sure his "staff" knows well how to transport people, she thought, but also wondered how many of those people were...animate at the time of transport. And she was *certain* he didn't want to hear the details of who wasn't showing up to drive whom. "What am I getting us into?") "You presume on my hospitality, young woman." It was said calmly, coolly. Julia thought before answering. "Yes, sir, I do." Don Constantine chuckled. "Well, as long as we understand each other. At such late notice, I can't reschedule my permanent drivers, but I'm sure we can arrange...something." Julia cringed: what kind of "something" would these drivers be? But there was no other choice. "Thank you, sir. It's greatly appreciated." ------------- The Hive, 5:57 pm Back at the Hive, Zeph explained the situation. "Don Constantine," she gulped nervously at the thought of the Crime Family boss, "Don Constantine wasn't warned about the War, but he's ready to help. He'll send limos for all the UFfers and get them here. But..." "But," prompted the other two, as words seemed to fail Zeph. "...but they're too far-flung to use the 'regular staff.' He's going to have to call in the American branch of the family, and some of them may be," Zeph swallowed convulsively, "a 'little less presentable'." Nancy and Tamara's eyes opened wide. "Saints preserve us..." ------- Limo #1---Pearson Airport, Toronto. 6 pm A huge backpack stood forlornly on the sidewalk. Lorin walked up to it and pointed to her left. "The taxi rank is just over there. Need a hand?" The backpack turned and lurched towards the huge line of ex-airline passengers waiting on the curb. Lorin shrugged and followed, picking up the cat carrier at her feet and hefting her own small pack carefully, wincing at the faint clinking sound from within. Several minutes later, the odd pair arrived at the back of the line. The backpack shuddered and settled, and a hot and sweaty Cousin Lucilla emerged from under it. Lorin sighed. "Do you *really* need all that? What's in there, anyway?" Cousin Lucilla stared at her in disbelief. "Of course I need it." She squinted at the backpack, almost as tall as she was. "Actually, that's pretty good---I tried to pack light this time. And I even managed to fit the beer in, too." Lorin brightened considerably at the mention of beer. Her own backpack contained four bottles of finest Glenmorangie scotch, but beer was acceptable in a pinch. Cousin Lucilla peered doubtfully down the line to the far, far distant front, and wondered at the possibility of taking a bus with a cat and The Backpack. She turned to Lorin. "Do you think.... EEEEEK!" She grabbed Lorin and threw herself backwards over the giant backpack as a shiny black limo careened across the street, mounted the sidewalk and screeched to a halt six inches from their feet. Lorin was first up. The Backpack had fallen over onto Lucilla's feet and she was struggling to move it. "Are you CRAZY?!" Lorin yelled at the car, and stormed around to the driver's door as it began to open. "You could have KILLED u... uh... urk," she stammered to a halt as the driver got out and stood up... and up... and up. Dressed in black, with black sunglasses and black leather gloves, he was at least six and a half feet tall and built... well, built. "Oh my!" breathed Cousin Lucilla, finally extricating herself from the Backpack of Doom and peering around Lorin. The driver removed his sunglasses and glared at them. He did it exceptionally well. Both Uffers backed up. The driver advanced on them. They backed up some more, hit the wall, and stood gaping as he loomed over them. He glared some more, then reached into his jacket, extracting a large sheet of paper that looked like a postage stamp in his huge hand. He transferred his glare to the paper for a moment, then back up to the two Uffers. He abruptly turned round and lumbered back to the car. The Uffers slid as one down the wall and sat on the hard ground, staring at each other speechlessly. A loud YOWL split the air a moment later, and the driver froze, turning the box in his hands until he was face-to-face with a very annoyed cat. He glared at the box. A quiet "meep!" emerged, and the driver gave a smirk as he placed the now quiet box into the car. Lorin jumped up. "Hey! That's my .... uh.... um..." she shrank back as the driver turned on the glare again. He picked up her backpack and tossed it into the trunk, then picked up The Backpack Of Doom with one hand and negligently tossed that in, too. He then opened the back door and waved a meaty hand at the two cringing Uffers. "In." "Huh?" asked Lorin, intelligently. The driver growled, and fished out the sheet of paper again. "You Cousin Lucilla and Lorin?" His voice would not have been out of place on a Rottweiler. Lorin looked as if she were about to faint; Cousin Lucilla managed a faint squeak which the driver apparently took as a 'yes'. He reached out and lifted them bodily into the back of the car and closed the door. The two Uffers had just time to exchange alarmed looks before the limo roared to life, and with a screeching of tires and a pungent odor of burning rubber, merged into the rush-hour traffic leaving the airport. Lorin shifted uncomfortably on the seat, then reached behind her and extracted two ornate, black-and-gold-edged envelopes. She raised her eyebrows, and handed over the one with "Cousin Lucilla" written in exquisite copperplate. She opened her own, and they read together: "I am pleased to offer my hospitality to your group yet again. You will find the house is fully stocked in readiness for your visit. Feel free to treat it as if it were your own. I trust your journey was not too unpleasant. Yours, Don Constantine" Cousin Lucilla looked around. "Well," she said faintly, "I think we have definitely arrived." By the Pricking of My Thumbs, Something UFfish This Way Comes (02/03) by Zeph and assorted Uffers November 8, 2004 ------- The Hive, 6:02 pm Nancy closed the laptop with a click. "OK, I've e-mailed the Constantine staff a description and a location for everyone to be picked up, and they're posting their equivalent of an APB for Les. That should about cover it." "Have we done the right thing?" Zeph wondered anxiously. "We've done the ONLY thing," Tamara replied. ------- Limo # 1---Pearson Airport, Toronto, 6:05 pm "Why... why are we stopping?" Cousin Lucilla's voice had a distinct quaver as their scary driver pulled into the curb of another terminal. "More baggage," he grated out. Lorin and Lucilla huddled in the corner of the luxury vehicle, expecting the worse. The door opened just long enough for the driver to deposit---by the scruff of the neck, like a spitting kitten---a chubby, brown-haired, brown-eyed woman. Cousin Lucilla found another invitation in the seat. "Desiree, I presume?" She asked, handing it over. Desiree just nodded, shell shocked. ------ Limo #2---Suburban New Hampshire, 6:32 pm Kathy smiled as the stretch limo pulled up in front of her home. This would certainly have the neighbors peeking out of their windows. Her two boys stared at her, dumbfounded, as she hoisted her duffle bag on her shoulder and prepared to depart. She hesitated for just a moment as the driver emerged from the vehicle. He didn't look much like any limo driver she had ever seen before, but Julia had said the ride was courtesy of Don Constantine. As Kathy ran her fingers through her short, red hair and settled back into the leather seat, she wondered just the crisis was this time that called them back to Toronto and the Hive. ------- Limo #1---Pearson Airport, Toronto, 6:33 pm Cindy looked around Pearson International for any sign of the limo she was told would be waiting. She sighed. It had been a long, weary trip from Texas, and the limo was HOURS late. She wondered again why she had agreed to join the UF for this war. It was looking less and less like a good idea as each moment passed. A tall young woman with long, dark hair pulling a stuffed black duffle bag wandered by. Seeing the laptop slung over her shoulder and a look of seeming recognition when the woman turned her way, Cindy got up and approached her. "Are you Jarvinia?" Jarvinia tensed as she approached, then asked "Uffer?" Cindy nodded, relieved to find a friend, and both relaxed to wait. Shortly after that, Cindy looked up in surprise when a long black limo swooped up to her at the curb. The driver got out, unfolding from his seat to loom over her ominously. He consulted a list in his hand, seeming to refer back and forth between her and the paper. "Cindy." He did the same with her companion, and added "Jarvinia." It wasn't a question, and he didn't wait for either to decide if she REALLY wanted to be an Uffer right now. He just opened the door and "helped" them in. ------- Limo #2---Massachusetts, 7 pm Kathy stretched languidly in the luxury of the leather seat. She had no idea why the limo had taken her south on her trip west to Toronto, but the chauffeur had proven to be a man of very few words---the strong, silent type, she laughed to herself. Still, no sense worrying about it; she had faith in Julia, and Julia would be there waiting for her. The limo pulled into a parking space in front of a velvet red Mini with a black roof, a slim woman dressed all in black and a petite blonde who smelled faintly of hand made perfumed soap standing beside it. The driver stepped out, consulting a list, and nodded once before opening the door for them. Allison refused to enter. "I want to take my car!" The driver consulted another piece of paper, then shrugged. "'Any and all baggage.'" Mary looked scared, but Allison was adamant. "My MINI!" she demanded, but then could only stand aside in awe as the driver assessed the situation. She watched in disbelief as the driver put the small car in neutral, then got behind it and pushed it up the sloping rear end of the huge limo, onto the roof. All she could do was make sure it was securely tied to the luggage rack. The driver again stepped to the limo door and opened it. His expression this time brooked no refusal, and Allison and Mary scurried in. "Hi, guys!" chirped Kathy. "Relax and enjoy. He's a good driver, and the bar's well stocked." ------- Limo # 3---Outside the University , 7:30 pm Danii hauled her laptop bag as well as the metric ton of school work she had due for the following week up to the front steps of her school as the limo pulled up. She grinned at the driver, who responded by practically throwing her bodily into the back of the limo. With the instincts of any geek, she protected her laptop against all else and landed in something of a ball of denim and electronics. "Well...that was different." ------- Limo #4---Union Station, Toronto, 7:43 pm The black-clad limo driver watched stoically as the last passengers debarked from the train. No one matched the description he'd been given. He took out his cell phone, hit quick-dial, and waited briefly. "Hi, boss. The cargo did not arrive." He listened intently, then nodded decisively. "Right." He strode back to the limo and departed. ------- Limo #3---Driving through the American South, 8 pm Danii had figured out how to plug her laptop into the limo's extensive onboard communication systems, and was plugging away at her schoolwork, getting it out of the way so she could concentrate on War. Priorities, after all, were priorities; and War was the priority! Amanda gazed out the window, wondering where they were. Toronto was north of New Jersey, but they were still headed south. She smiled to herself. Anywhere at all was a good place to be, when one was playing hooky from work. She smiled contentedly as Percival, the kitten with the penchant for neck biting, snuggled down into her lap and purred. Portia watched the road signs go by. "Hey!" She rapped on the panel separating them from the chauffeur. "We picking anyone else up?" The driver ignored her. She turned to her companions. "I hate not being the driver!" "I think we're going the wrong way," murmured Amanda. Danii was happy to put down her computer. "Let's hijack this puppy!" ---------- Limo #5---New York City, 9 pm Julia sat on the cement stoop, the cold creeping into her bones barely counteracting her raging fever. The few, the proud, the disorganized---somehow the UF's motto had never seemed so appropriate. She'd thought she was on top of things, really, she did, planning a party, delegating duties, going with the flow. So what was she doing here, while a NEOPHYTE gathered up her clan and delivered them? A momentary surge of adrenaline got her to her feet. She sat down again, head swimming. This is not happening. This is not happening. ------------- Limo #3---Heading North, 9:15 pm Portia had taken the task of navigating and after a few hours of furiously folding and re-folding the map, she was now going at it with a geometry compass dug from the depths of her massive purse. Amanda and Danii were slowly beginning to realize that while Portia might be able to figure out how they should go on the map, she had no idea how they should go on the *road.* They were also beginning to fear that Portia, who had a tendency to gesticulate energetically when talking, was going to poke out someone's eye with the point of the compass. Giving up on the navigating, Portia agreed with the others' suggestion that they stop and ask for directions. Being Southern, she'd always liked the idea of "relyin' on the kindness of strangers," while acknowledging reality required a healthy dose of suspicion. Having re-oriented North (and having dropped off their hired driver at a local clinic to have his eye looked at), the Southern contingent was on its way, no longer trying to reach Toronto by way of Miami. "UF Headquarters, here we come!" Danii reached up to pound on the car ceiling while sipping something fizzy from the limousine fridge. "YEEE-HAAA!" screeched Portia, never one to pass up bellowing the rebel yell. "Portia, pick a lane!" screamed Amanda, as they zipped narrowly between two compact cars. She couldn't wait to get to Toronto, with its ever-seething community of vampires. Someplace safe. ------- Limo #5---On the Railroad Tracks, 9:28 pm April and Susan lolled back in their comfortable seats, the clickety-clack swaying of the train lulling them to sleep. Both agreed that trains were, after all, a great way to travel. When the engine suddenly began to brake they assumed they were arriving at a station---for an express, this train seemed to make a LOT of stops in a LOT of small towns---and merely yawned and closed their eyes tighter. When they heard heavy footsteps coming down the aisle, they didn't worry. The conductor knew them by now, and had stamped their tickets. Only when the footsteps stopped beside them and a foreboding presence loomed over them did they rouse. "Ummm, April," Susan nudged her companion. "Company." April yawned widely. "Hmmmm?" She opened her eyes blearily. The sight of the black-clad henchman galvanized her for fight or flight. She stood up. "Now see here," she began, unable to flee. The henchman consulted his list. "April." He looked at Susan, frozen in her seat like a deer in the headlights. "Susan." Both nodded numbly. "Wrong train. Come with me. Don Constantine's orders." He turned to leave the train. At the sound of Constantine's name, the two women brightened perceptibly. "We have a few pieces of luggage," Susan said airily. "Just these few items there," murmured April nonchalantly. The two women sauntered out to the waiting limo while the driver stoically gathered up their dogs, their cat, and the mountain of luggage that filled an adjoining compartment and spilled out into the passageway. ------- By The Pricking Of My Thumbs, Something UFfish This Way Comes (03/03) By Zeph and Assorted UFfers November 8, 2004 Limo # 4---New York City, 10 pm The driver pulled up to the address he'd been given with a squeal of brakes, looking at the city around him curiously. He'd never been to this part of town before, he reflected; as the Constantine family's facilitator in Outer Wobegone, he rarely made it to any city at all. Only the sheer number of operatives necessary had caused his call-up. He got out and approached the stoop, surprised to find an obviously sick woman laying on the steps. He consulted his notes, checking the description. "Julia?" The woman barely nodded. The driver looked around the neighborhood in disbelief. New Yorkers! A sick woman, handcuffed to the porch, and no one noticed. He shrugged fatalistically and took a deep, deep breath, holding it while he broke the cuffs, scooped her up and deposited her in the rear seat, then slammed the door behind her. He exhaled gustily, then took a deep breath of the relatively clean outdoor air, before he got back in. He started the huge limo, then pushed the switch that raised the bullet proof shield between him and his passenger and turned the air conditioning on full blast. He hoped, fatalistically, that the thin glass was as effective against germs as against bullets. From the back seat, Julia moaned something softly. "No cuffs." The driver swore, and consulted his orders again. Handcuffs. Dang, he'd have to brave contagion again! He took another deep breath before he went and cuffed her securely to the traveling bar. That should hold her. He deserved hazard pay for this duty, he grumbled. Germs. Ugh. Give him a good, clean gunfight any day. ------- Constantine HQ, Los Angeles, 11:15 pm "'The Eggplant.' Right. A purple minivan..." he read the license plate number to whoever listened on the far end of the line. "Find it." He hung the phone up with a crash. ------- The Hive---11:59 pm Zeph separated herself from the happy crowd of UFfers in the party room long enough to greet the last arrivals---surprised when Portia, Danii, and Amanda trooped in happily, without that vaguely shell-shocked air the others had had. "Where, where's your driver?" Portia waved her hand airily. "Oh, we dropped him off at a hospital in Miami." The others giggled happily. "What---No! Do NOT tell me." Zeph just didn't want the responsibility of knowing. "Just... oh, just c'mon in and join the party," she begged. "Everyone's here, except Les, but we're ready to party!"