[Smurf]

Originally Posted by RACHEL02189

That's every loyal's fanasty to do mouth to mouth on Criss and any other of his brothers

Yep i argee with you great Chaper , loving this story Can't wait to read more

[Veritas]

Originally Posted by Loyal Lady Dee

Veritas, you have no idea how much I am enjoying this story! It's one of the most amazing fanfics I have read! I have some things in common with Deidre: my nickname is Dee (short for Dolores), I know CPR and First Aid (for my profession of child care provider), and I have met Costa. In fact, I met Costa, JD, Dimitra, and Criss back in 2009. It was one of the best days of my life! I support them as a Loyal, and would never do anything crazy cause they are just too amazing. I hope all Loyals get to meet them all someday, they are too cool! Now...on to the rest of the story!

Nickname, Dee? Knows CPR? Met Costa? Hmmmmm...Cosmic!!

[Veritas]

It had been a slow day at the EMS station, barely twenty calls during Leslie's whole shift. Leslie was anticipating the evening with a mixture of excitement and dread, for tonight Criss would perform the most dangerous demonstraion of his career: escaping from a hotel about to be demolished. Would she witness the greatest escape ever preformed, or Criss' death live on television? Her mind boggled, recalling something a fellow Loyal once said about Criss' death-defying stunts: it was like watching a hanging, he said--you can't bring yourself to watch it, but you can't turn away.

Well, she was going to watch it no matter what. Criss would make it, Leslie told herself. He always had. But just to be sure, she would do a Tarot reading for him before the show. Leslie looked at the clock. Two more hours, and her shift would be over, barring castatrophe. Everything seemed peaceful enough around the station. Regina was perusing the latest issue of The Watchtower, the Jehovah's Witnesses' little periodical she always left in the break room and which Leslie always tossed in the trash. Leslie was tolerant of other people's faiths as a rule, but Regina's constant proselytizing rankled her. Regina had already been written up by Morton about it, but she still persisted in leaving JW literature around the station. If she ever found out about Leslie's Wiccan ways, she'd never hear the end of it. Besides, what business of it was hers, anyway?

The two hours dragged on, but the day shift did end. Leslie and Regina turned in their daily log to Morton and left for home. At the bus stop, they stood with other weary commuters for the Local to take them home. Leslie fought the temptation to start a conversation with Regina so as to avoid another invitation to the Kingdom Hall for services. Regina, however, served first.

"Boring day today, wasn't it?" she said casually.

"Yeah," Leslie grunted. "It was."

"Got any plans for the evening?"

It was an innocent enough inquiry, but Leslie knew from experience that it was fully loaded. If she answered no, then the offer to come to services at the Kingdom Hall would be pressed, and Regina was a past master in persistance. If she said yes, then she'd be forced to give the reason, and no excuse would be good enough for Regina to accept. Either way, she was screwed. Unless...

"Why?" Leslie asked innocently. "You asking me out on a date or something?"

Regina laughed a little. Her little joke had caught her off guard, to Leslie's relief. "I mean, I thought you already had a boyfriend, you know?" she went on.

"That's not what I meant!" Regina exclaimed in exasperation. "I'm just saying that tonight's evening services at the Hall, and I'm inviting you to come, that's all!"

"Thanks, but no thanks," Leslie told her as graciously but as firmly as she could.

"Why not?" Regina persisted.

Leslie sighed. I'll tell you why not! I am a practicing Wiccan, I believe in the Mother Goddess, and have no interest in your Jehovah or your church! That's why not! So stop bothering me! "I'm just not interested, that's all," she replied.

Regina fished out a brochure from her handbag. "Maybe this will stir your interest in us," she suggested.

Leslie rolled her eyes. "Regina..."

"Now, I know that you heard a lot of negative press about the Witnesses," Regina argued. "But we're true practicing Christians, preparing the way for the Lord Jehovah to come." She tucked the brochure into Leslie's hand. "Just read it, think about it. You'll see that we're not the evil cultists people think we are."

Leslie's bus arrived at the stop. She pushed her way to the curb. "Service starts at six-thirty," Regina called out to her. "See you there!"

Leslie boarded the bus without a word to Regina. Yeah! When Hell freezes over! she thought nastily. She paid her fare and took a seat far in the back. She looked down at the brochure with distate, then tore it up. How would she like it if I pressured her to become a Wiccan? Leaving the newsletters in the breakroom like she leaves those stupid magazines, or inviting her to our gatherings and feasts?

She drew a deep breath to release her frustration. Why do I have to keep my beliefs in the closet while Regina is free to flaunt hers? I thought America was founded on freedom of religion! I should be allowed to practice my beliefs as openly as she does! Just once, I'd like to shout out to the whole world "I am a Wiccan! I believe in the Mother Goddess and am one with the Earth!". Well, one of these days, I will! One of these days, I am going to look Regina and her fellow Witnesses and tell them what they can do with their magazines and their door-to-door proselytizing! And when that day comes, oh, Goddess, I am going to make them wish the earth would swallow them up whole!



Clearwater, Florida. Fifty thousand Loyals waited several hundred feet away from the soon to be demolished Spyglass Resort Hotel for the appearance of Criss Angel, while millions more watched on television in the comfort of their homes. The festive mood was tempered with fear and anxiety over the demonstration about to take place.



Chaunte Fresh and Marie Austin huddled next to each other in front of the nineteen-inch set in the apartment they shared not far from the bar where they worked. They were both lucky to get that night off together, not only to watch the episode, but to offer comfort and reassurance to each other during the mindracking ordeal to come.




Nini Luciano had to work at the MindFreak store that evening, but she invited Hadley Grace to come over and watch the demonstration on the giant plasma television in the store itself. The shop was crowded with onlookers watching the show on the enormous screen in high definition, hardly breathing, let alone making conversation.




Leslie Fanning sat at her card table in front of the television, ritualistically dealing her Tarot cards and laying out three of them on the crimson cloth. What will Criss fate be? she mentally asked the Fates, or the Goddess, or whatever forces of nature were listening. Nervously she turned over the three cards on the table.

The Magician, upright. Very appropriate, considering. It symbolized mastery of the material world, creative action, self-discipline and a willingness to take risks. That was Criss in a nutshell, Leslie thought. The second card, the Chariot, upright, meant triumph over adversity, overcoming life's obstacles, and well deserved victory. Very positive. The third was the most welcome of all, the Wheel of Fortune, upright, the card of destiny and good fortune. Leslie exhaled with relief. Criss was going to make it after all.




Most of the program was taken up by interviews, shots of the hotel, computer graphics of the implosion, and prerecorded street magic performed by Criss, but the final fifteen minutes were the most tense in television history. Criss was handcuffed to the railing on the sixth floor of the building, then left alone to escape. To make matters worse, rain started to fall, and communication was faulty at best.

Criss gave the signal to begin the countdown, and set to work freeing himself from the handcuffs. The audience shrieked and cheered him on as he freed himself, then tried to pick the lock on the first door, but failing that, broke the window, then entered the hotel to the second door, picked the lock on that, opened the door, ran up the stairs to the next door, picked the lock, entered that, then raced up to the roof where a door with two locks challenged him. Time was running out, the helicopter lifted off while he was still in the hotel, and just when Criss had worked out one of the locks, the cameras blanked out, and the building came tumbling down with a roar.

Chaunte and Marie clung to each other, weeping. In the MindFreak shop, Nini, Hadley and the others present stared in shock. Leslie prayed to the Goddess for Criss' safety. At the site, there was silence.

Then, as if by some miracle, Criss emerged from behind a slope, covered in concrete dust but very much alive. His mother, Dimitra, and his brothers, JD and Costa, rushed up to embrace him, tears streaming down their faces. Chaunte and Marie shrieked with joy. The MindFreak store erupted in cheers. Leslie looked down at her cards, her faith in them confirmed.




Criss spent a few days in Florida, visiting his Greek friends and relatives and resting from the ordeal he had overcome. They congratulated him on his success, but his mother kept reminding him and anyone within earshot that it would be the last. An exasperated Criss kept assuring her that it would.

"Your mother loves you, Christopher," his Aunt Popi told him. "She doesn't want to outlive you, that's all."

"I don't know how he's gonna top that one, anyway," Costa commented. "I mean, how can you top being blown up in a building?"

"I have a gut feeling that he'll find a way," JD opined.

"No!" Dimitra exclaimed. "No more! That is it!" She turned to Criss and pointed her finger in his face. "Christopher, you made a promise to me, and I am going to hold you to it!"

Criss could only sit there on the overstuffed couch, smiling sheepishly. He quickly decided to change the subject. "So, Costa," he said loudly. "You got your Red Cross certification yet?"

Costa stared at Criss bemusedly. "I got it weeks ago, you know that," he replied.

Dimitra looked at him. "Red Cross? What are you talking about, Red Cross?"

"Well, it all started when I began having this recurring nightmare about some big disaster and everyone was crying out to me to save them," Costa explained. "So, I took a couple of days off and took a course in lifesaving, and I got certified by the Red Cross."

Dimitra thought about it. "Hmmm. Well, that is good to know, darling."

"Yeah," JD chimed in. "You could have been using it on Criss if he slipped up."

"If Criss slipped up," Costa retorted, "he'd be dead."

"Well, I am sure it will come in handy someday," Dimitra assured him. "It's good to know these things for just in case."

"Was it hard?" Criss asked.

"No, no, it wasn't hard," Costa replied, "we got paired off in teams, and assigned a station to practice on each other."

"Who was your partner?" Criss asked.

Costa blushed a little. "Some little blond named Dee," he answered with some embarrassment. "She knew who I was, and..."

"Started coming on to you?" Criss smiled knowingly.

"Let me put it this way," Costa said. "She gave mouth-to-mouth resusitation a bad name, that's for sure. My next certification class, I'm gonna pick someone else--anyone else! Preferably over forty!"

The family laughed. Poor Costa, a victim of his brother's fame, Dimitra thought. "Well, the important thing is that you learned something useful," she said to him reassuringly. "Who knows? You may save someone's life someday, and not just your brother's, either. God only knows what will happen in the future."




Zero pointers for the entire week on the graph. All was quiet in Nevada and California. Dr. Adams began to relax. Okay, maybe that three-point-five had been a fluke after all, he thought. One minor tremor, then the faultlines went back to sleep. It had been a false alarm; he had been worried over nothing.

Still, it did not do to become complacent. A major quake could occur at any time, anywhere. Like freedom, it required eternal vigilance, but unlike freedom, earthquakes were an all too real threat that put lives in danger and destroyed millions of dollars in property. All he and NEDA could do was monitor the graphs and keep tabs on the climate, giving warning when needed as soon as humanly possible.

A thirty to forty percent chance of a quake hitting Las Vegas, he recalled from the UNLV study. It didn't rule out the possibility altogether, but by that calculation, it meant that there was a sixty to seventy percent chance that there wouldn't be one. McKinsey Adams wasn't a gambling man by nature, but they seemed to be pretty safe odds to him.

But of course, he had been wrong before.

[RACHEL02189]

Veritas I had a dream last night after reading this that Criss saved me during an earthquake in Las Vegas he tackled me as the light on the Luxor fell off.

[Veritas]

whoa!

[RACHEL02189]

It felt so real thou

[Smurf]

Great Chapter Can't wait to read more

[Veritas]

Labor Day weekend, and a busy one for the Luxor and all the other hotels in Las Vegas. Despite the sluggish economy, thousands flocked to Sin City to try their luck at the casinos or to forget their troubles at the shows, taking advantage of the online discounts on hotel accomodations.

Saturday saw an influx of new guests checking in at the Luxor: happy couples who were married or about to be married in the hotel wedding chapel; elderly folks ready to blow their retirement funds at the blackjack tables; families with small children arriving to see the Pirates of the Caribbean show or even to see Criss Angel perform an impromptu magic act in the lobby; and the usual bored tourists hoping to experience something exciting. Bell attendants carted endless loads of luggage up and down the inclining elevators. Wait staff nearly collided into each other fulfilling orders for room service. The concierge's phone rang incessantly for restaraunt reservations, theater tickets, show times, and other demands. In all, it was just another typical day at the Luxor Hotel and Resort...





In the ECRU shop, Vivi DiLano was putting in overtime getting ready for Fashion Week. The staff had the day off, of course, but Vivi proved to be a human dynamo when it came right down to the wire. In the silence of the nondescript square building just off the fables Vegas Strip, Vivi labored painstakingly on the showpiece of the collection: a tailored, straight-skirted snowy-white wedding gown with paisley patterned sequins going up the side and a white hood in place of a veil. Very twenty-first century, Vivi thought. Billowy tulle, lace veils and poofy sleeves were so Fifties. This gown was so much more elegant, and besides, could be used as a summer evening gown as well. ECRU was high-end, but it was also practical in its designs, which suited Vivi quite well...




At the EMS station, Leslie was at her usual post, headphone on, dispatching paramedics to Sunset Park where a skateboarder had cracked his skull while grinding down a rail and landing head first on the concrete. Her partner for the day, Evelyn, had vanished while on duty, a flagrant breach of regulations. She was always sneaking off for a smoke or a snack or something when the opportunity rose, leaving Leslie or anyone else to pick up the slack. Goddess, that girl's so lazy, Leslie thought. She was so going to get fired. The monthly performance reviews were coming up, she remembered, and Evelyn was gonna be history...



Nini was in the MindFreak shop, folding new CA t-shirts onto the display table near the front. She had just started a new term at UNLV, her last in her quest to earn a business degree. She hadn't seen her friend, Hadley, for a while, what with her being busy with Criss' show and all. Rehersals alone ate up most of her time. She was following her dream, and Nini was going after hers. Best of luck and good wishes all around, she thought as she arranged the stacks of shirts neatly on the table. It was no big deal, really. They'd hook up some other time...



Dr. Melinda Shyne pressed a stethescope against the hairy back of one Daniel Roskowitz, an overweight foreman complaining about tightening in his chest. "Take a deep breath," she instructed.

Roskowitz did so, repeating whenever the stethescope pressed against his back. The lungs were good, Dr. Shyne noted. He said he had quit smoking fifteen years ago, thankfully. It was the strain of his spare tire that was causing the strain on his heart, no doubt about it. She would have to set him up on a diet plan and recommend he exercise every day for at least thirty minutes--join a health club or something, she would tell him, cut back on the brewskis and eat more sensibly if he wanted to live another ten or fifteen years longer at least...



Criss and his camera crew wandered around the streets of Las Vegas, taping the astonished looks on the faces of the passersby after Criss dazzled them with his street magic. With a flick of his wrist he tossed playing cards into the air and deftly caught them again, producing the very ones selected by his latest volunteers. Cards seemed to appear out of nowhere: from behind a person's back, inside pockets, purses and hats, even his boots. When he wasn't doing card magic, he was either levitating himself or a volunteer from the audience. Whatever Criss did, he wowed them...




Meanwhile, at the Las Vegas NEDA station, the seismograph needle drew a steady line along the strip of graph paper slowly unscrolling from its spool, registering zero-point-zero, then zero-point-one, then back to zero-point-zero, then suddenly jumping to three-point-zero, three-point-nine, five-point-nine, six-point-zero. The needle zigzagged sharply across the graph, streaking jagged spikes of black as the earthquake reached a maximum of six-point-nine, the strongest ever recorded in that region.





It came so suddenly, so unexpectedly, as those who witnessed the great Las Vegas earthquake would relate later. Like Nine-Eleven, it had been just another day, everyone going about their business, they said, and then it happened. The ground shook, the pavement heaved as if some giant monster was emerging from the ground. Water pipes ruptured, sending geysers shooting up from the cracking streets. Women shrieked, men screamed, children cried out for their mommies and daddies. Entire city blocks seemed to split in half, sending masonry cascading to the ground.




Vivi DiLano tumbled to the floor of the ECRU shop, the dressmaker's form falling on top of her. She tried to get up and run, but the shaking building knocked her down again and again. On her third or fourth try, a heavy shelving unit containing sewing supplies toppled on top of her, pinning her underneath. She struggled to free herself, but could not budge the unit. She had only enough strength to scream for help.



Nini felt the tremors under her feet at first, then watched as jackets, shirts and other merchandise hanging on the walls came tumbling down. A ceiling fixture fell on the jewelry case, shattering it. Remembering her earthquake emergency training from her California days, she found refuge underneath the sales counter and rode out the quake curled up in a fetal position, with only a three-quarter inch sheet of plywood counter to protect her.



"Okay, I want you to pick a card," Criss instructed his latest volunteer, a tattooed skateboarder of about nineteen years of age. The skate rat had just withdrawn a card when the pavement under their feet began to heave. The onlookers were thrown to the ground along with Criss and the camera crew. One videocamera shattered as it tumbled off the shoulder of its cameraman. The other managed to remain on its perch, documenting the disaster in a shaky montage of panic.




Leslie was still alone at her post when the quake hit. As soon as the tremors made their way to the station, she ducked underneath the desk for safety, as she had been trained. "Oh, Goddess!" she prayed. "Protect me! Make it stop!"

She heard the loud crashing of furniture and computer terminals toppling to the floor as she huddled underneath her desk. The lights went out overhead. The giant glass panels in the front of the dispatch room sprouted jagged cracks, bursting in their frames and shattering to the floor. Leslie screamed and screamed and screamed...




Then, as suddenly as it came, the earthquake stopped. The dazed population of Las Vegas looked around themselves, wondering what had happened. Their city, the Entertainment Capital of the World, lay in ruins: cars were overturned, many on fire where they had collided with other cars or parts of the city itself. Windows were cracked, shattered or gone altogether. The pavement buckled crazily along the Strip. Children wailed in terror, coughing from the dust choking the air.

Criss rose from where he fell, wiping the dust from his eyes, and noticed a bright red streak on his right arm. He had scraped the skin on the pavement as he had fallen. Clutching his wound, coughing from the dust, he gazed around himself in horror at the scene of desolation before him.

"Holy God in Heaven!" he gasped. "What the (bleep) happened?"

[RACHEL02189]

Those would be the first word out of my mouth too

[Loyal Lady Dee]

Holy cow! I hope this story ends well, for all of the characters! I'm not a blonde, but I am, and will be until the day I die, 100% supportive of Criss and those who have and who are backing him up. There are just no words to describe the day I met the family. Even though it was a couple minutes and seconds each separately with the four of them, it was truly worth it. I want to give a huge shout out right now to Criss, Costa, JD, Dimitra, Hammie, and all their close family and friends. I thank you all for letting us Loyals be part of Criss' magic, for it has inspired and touched every single person it came in contact with, myself included.