Date: Mon, 30 Sep 1996 22:12:56 -0400 From: Heather Williams <hele56...@aol.com> Subject: XOVER: VampCon ''96/ contest This is a crossover between FK and every other vampyre story you can think of. (Incidently, if I left out a character you would like to see, please drop me a line.) This is also a contest of sorts. If anyone can put a name to all of the characters, he/she will win a box of chocolates (virtual _and_ real). I will also be posting a version of this same contest on FORKNI-L. The winner will be the person with the most correct names. The deadline for entries is October 13 (the day this story takes place). Please relpy off-list. I apologize if the story seems choppy and difficult to read, but I had to go out of my way to give clews to the character's identites. A list of complete clews follows the story. All of these character belong to their respective Powers That Be/Were, except Philadelpha Smithson, who in my own creation. ############################### Welcome the VampCon '96! "Secretary Wanted." the advert had said. "Working the Night of Oct. 13 Only." It was a one-shot deal. But I needed the cash and working nights suited me just fine. So I had applied. And here I was, alone in the ballroom of Willard Hotel in Washington with a list of names and a bad case of nerves. It had seemed legit in the begining, but now things were a wee bit fishy. No one was here to meet me, only a plain brown envelope full of instructions. I was to check names off of the list as people arrived and make sure everyone wore a name tag. I was to hang about near the door to keep uninvited guests away. And I was to ignore and strange things that happened during the convention. This was _just_ a little more than my nerves could handle. When the door behind me opened with a loud creak, I nearly screamed. The papers in my arms fell all over everywhere. "Oh, damn." "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you." The blond man said. He stooped to gather my papers up. Rather attractive, his most striking feature was his his piercing blue eyes. He smiled warmly as he handed the packet back to me. "I'm Nicolas Knight." I smiled back. "I'm Philadelphia Smithson, but most people call me Phil." we stood staring at each other for a long while. "Aren't you supposed to check me off of your list?" he asked. "Oh, yeah. I guess I am." I uncapped my pen and put a little check mark next to his name. "I'm also supposed to ask you to wear one of those name tags over there." I pointed to a table covered with a whole lot of little plastic pins. He glanced over at the tags. "Any particular one? Or specifically the one with my name in it?" I laughed, beginning to like Mr. Knight. "The one with your name in it. Unless you'd like to be someone else tonight?" He searched for his name tag while I turned to the new people entering the ballroom. For the next half an hour, the guests arrived in a steady stream. Some where alone, like Mr. Knight. Some came in couples of varying gender combinations. Some came in large, rowdy groups. By the time I had a chance to catch my breath, there was only one tag left on the table. I glanced down my list to see if she had arrived and merely neglected to pick up her tag. "I don't believe that she will be attending." Came a voice from behind me. I turned to the tall man with the white-blond crewcut. "What makes you say that?" I searched through my instruction sheet to see if there was a clause covering guests who didn't show up. The man pointed to the remaining pin. "She is dead." I gave him a glance over the top of my glasses. "Why didn't anyone tell me that?" "Those who organized the convention used an old guest-list as a reference point. I fear some of their information is out of date." His nearness began to make me feel nervous. We both turned when the door opened. "Dead, Father?" I believe you are the one with the out-of-date information." A little girl flounced into the ballroom and pinned on the name tag. The man, her father, looked suprised (it was really funny to see such a supercilious person lookign suprised, but he pulled it off quite well.) I began to laugh at him. The laughter ended in a hiccough when both man and daughter gave me an incredulous stare. I hurriedly busied myself by rifling through some papers, doing my best to act nonchalant. I didn't look around again until they had moved off. Heaving a sigh of relief, I flopped down onto a convenient folding chair. To pass the time, I studied the crowd at the convention. To my left, there was a large knot of people near the bar. A tall man with a strange moustache was telling a lively story. He spoke with an eastern Europen accent. The group attentively listening to him consisted of a beautiful young woman wearing a choker, and attractive man with a blond pony-tail (who somehow reminded me of Tom Cruise), and the father and daughter who had spoken to me before. Over near one of the windows, a man with a funny Italian accent and fingernails filed to sharp points was speaking to a short, bald guy who kept scratching himself behind the ears. I overheard them say something about "having no regret". As I watched, a man with messy hair walked up and joined the conversation. The strange thing was, he couldn't seem to stop blinking . . . it was kind of annoying. In the most remoter corner of the ballroom, the blond man I spoke to earlier (what did he say his name was? Nick Knight?) was sitting silently next to another, younger man. This dark fellow seemed very depressed. Both felt me looking at them and returned the stare. I turned bright red and looked away. In the other corner of the room, a dark man leaning on a silver-headed cane spoke to a thin girl. He had spiky bangs and . . . could it be? eyeliner? She had the most amazingly large eyes and her movements could only be described as languid. They were approached by a pair of men who were obvously in love with each other: one hung about the other's neck, who responded by stroking his boyfriend's hair. The older one had blond curls that reminded me of Brutis. He looked like a poet. His younger lover had a kind of Grecian beauty that meant a delicate constitution. In the centre of the room stood a short man who wore a whole lot of diamond rings. He was apporached by a tall and thin man who asked for the time. The short guy pulled out a pocket watch and read it. The tall guy thanked him and turned to look at me. I don't know if it was just my nerves that were tired of being stared at, but his grey eyes seemed extremely frightening. But somehow, I couldn't seem to look away. I could feel every pair of eyes in the room fastened on me. . . Dear god, why did I take this job? *********************************************** Easy Questions: Tall man w/funny moustache and the eastern European accent. Beautiful young woman wearing a choker. Very attractive man with blond pony-tail who reminded me of Tom Cruise. Dark man with a silver-headed cane, spiky bangs, and too much eyeliner. Tall guy with a white-blond crewcut and a supercilious expression. His daughter. Short, bald guy who keep scratching behind his ears. Unkempt man who couldn't stop blinking. Hard Questions: Depressed man with dark hair who got on well with Nick. Short man who wore many precious stones. Tall, thin man, nearing forty, with frightening grey eyes. Slender girl with large, dark eyes and languid movements. Man with pointed fingernails and a funnt Italian accent who spoke of "no regret". Poetic-looking man with a "Brutis" haircut. Grecian blond young man with a delicate constitution. ################################################ Send answers to: Heather Joan Williams (AKA cousine helene) hele56...@aol.com Deadline is Oct. 13 Good luck!
