[RACHEL02189]

Criss always knew how to make an exit and can someone pick mel's jaw off the ground thanks

[Loyal Lady Dee]

Foreman Mel is a Grade A Putz!

[Smurf]

Another great chapter Criss certain knows how to make a an exit can't wait to read more

[Veritas]

By the end of September, the Las Vegas Sun was back in publication, releasing its first issue since the earthquake. It was smaller than usual, barely twelve pages, but it would be preserved by survivors and their familes for generations to come, stored in cedar chests, file boxes and scrapbooks, in library archives and historical museums. It consisted of a full color spread of the devastation, a map of the extent of the damage, shots of survivors in shelters and next to the ruins of their homes, and stories of both courage and cowardice ("Heroes and Zeros" ran the headline). It gave the official death toll of the quake: thirty-seven. It was also in that first release that the story of Leslie Fanning's twenty-two hour solo dispatch shift was recorded, and of Criss' cable lifeline which led the small band of survivors to the Luxor.

Most treasured of all were the editorial cartoons printed on the back of the paper from all over the country:

(Wayne Newton looking over ruins of Las Vegas, the welcoming sign lying on its side) "Mother Nature...you're killin' me!"

("Vegas Vic", the neon waving cowboy, with panicked expression on its face) "HEEEELLLLPP!"

(The Luxor Light shining brightly over the ruins of the Las Vegas Strip after the quake) GUIDING LIGHT.

(Looters smashing windows and stealing whatever they can get their hands on) Hitting The Jackpot in Vegas.

(Leslie Fanning alone at computer terminal in dispatch station) Las Vegas Lifeline.

(Criss Angel bravely leading survivors with cable tied to his waist) Guardian Angel.

(Citizen from Las Vegas talking to Katrina survivor) "God! Now I know how you feel!"

YouTube, MySpace, and personal blogs were filled with first and second hand accounts of the Las Vegas Earthquake, recorded on videotape, cameraphone and every type of camera available, from cheap disposables to professional models such as Nikon. Everyone who were willing to tell their story did so with visuals to back them up.

As the city slowly but surely rose from the rubble and ashes, a feeling of optimism was in the air, like a gambler convinced of a sure thing. "It won't be long now," became the mantra if not the unofficial city motto as construction workers rebuilt the hotels and casinos, the homes and apartment buildings, the streets and the sewers. Citizens made crude jokes about the stench of raw sewage from broken sanitation lines ("Hey! I think I smell the pizza I had last Friday!" or "Don't light up!"). They watched as a huge boom crane lifted "Vegas Vic" back into position, capturing the moment on their camera phones and camcorders, cheering loudly as the beloved icon of Las Vegas for half a century was finally back in the saddle, ready to wave his cheery neon hello once again.

But there were a few shadows behind the sunshine. A rumor of neon gas released from the broken lights of the Strip poisoning the air made the rounds on the Internet. Case of suffocation and other forms of horrible death, whether founded or unfounded, leapt out of monitors all across North America, accompanied by frantic warnings to stay out of the Vegas valley until furthur notice. Who would give that notice, and when, was never stated. Online auction sites such as eBay were constantly on the lookout for items placed for bid originating from Las Vegas or surrounding areas. The general public was warned against buying anything secondhand from anywhere in the Southwestern part of the United States because those items could have been looted from after the quake, especially jewlery and electronics.

Saddest of all were the stories from the rescue workers and volunteers who found the dead bodies of those who didn't escape in time. One particularly heartwrenching tale told of a DWD worker in the eastern part of the city who was clearing away the ruins of a house when he overturned a mattress lying on the floor and found the body of a little girl clutching a dead kitten. "You couldn't print my reaction," he later stated to the press.

Yet in spite of all the setbacks, the restoration went on. Little by little, bit by bit, Las Vegas was coming to life, and with it, a sense of community among the survivors. Social barriers had crumbled like the city itself; people who hadn't even known who lived next door to them rushed to help their neighbors in restoring their homes. They gathered food and supplies and distrubuted them from churches, schools and rental halls. They even went so far as to form neighborhood watch groups to prevent looting.

The communal feeling spread to the entertainment section of the city as well. Those venues which had survived the quake held fundrasers for the victims: stripclubs, bars, nightclubs, theaters, comedy clubs and even casinos whose slot machines were still running. Celebrities were photgraphed helping out with the relief effort, either out of genuine concern or simply to create photo-ops for themselves. Socially conscious types, however, angrily denounced it as blatant exploitation; they accused them of being publicity hounds at the expense of those who had suffered. "If they really want to help," they stormed from their soapboxes, "they should give out of their own overblown bank accounts instead of posing in hardhats pretending to care!"

In spite of the skeptics and naysayers, it became a civic duty for Las Vegas performers of every stripe to devote time and money to the relief effort, and no one was more aware of that duty than Criss Angel. Aside from cheering up the injured at the Red Cross station where his brother, Costa, worked, he reviewed his own personal finances and donated a generous, "undisclosed" (as the press put it) sum for the restoration of the city. He went on a "personal tour" of the different crews working on the city, performing magic for them and spending a day at most helping them with their work. By the end of the month, he had helped pour concrete; shovel asphalt onto the streets; put up drywall in a house; fed cereal to a child with two broken arms in the hospital (by levitating the spoon); gave blood despite the nail gun injury to his hand; did a card trick for a couple of National Guardsmen who were totally freaked out when the card selected appeared in the back pocket of one of them; gave his shoulder for a traumatized survivor to cry on in a church shelter; and generally boosted the morale of the whole city. He had told Mel, his former DWD supervisor, he would help in his own way, and he had kept that vow. Who needed FEMA when he had his own creativity to fall back upon?




"Mr. Rappaport?"

Felix looked up from his paperwork on his desk. "Yes?"

"My name is Serena Luciano," Nini introduced herself. "I came back to see if the MindFreak store was open again. I used to work there until the earthquake."

Felix smiled. "Well, glad to see you came back, Serena," he said, "but stores won't be officially open until at least another month at the most. You can, however, go in and straighten things up if you really want to help. A lot of staff has gone missing since the quake, unfortunatly."

"That's too bad," Nini said sympathetically. "But I'd be glad to help out around the hotel if you need me. My classes at UNLV won't resume for another two weeks, and I got a lot of downtime until then."

"Okay, then." Felix pulled out his master keycard. "Let's see if this thing still works."

Nini and Felix walked to the MindFreak outlet store. The huge windows were still boarded up, waiting to be replaced. Around them, the screech of power saws and the banging of hammers echoed throughout the atrium. Tall steel scaffolding towered above their heads as workmen replaced broken ceiling fixtures and patched holes and cracks in the walls. Below, what remained of the hotel staff swept the floors of debris and dust.

Felix slid his keycard into the computerized security access system installed in the service entrance of the MindFread outlet store. Luckily, it granted access to him, and he and Nini entered the store's back storage room.

"Well, here you are," Felix said. "If you need anything, you know where my office is."

"Thank you, Mr. Rappaport," Nini replied graciously.

"You're welcome, and good luck." Felix turned and left, closing the door behind him. Nini looked around the shop. Nothing had changed; it looked the same since she was last here, right down to the broken broom on the floor where the looter attacked her. The cash register was still on the counter. Nini wondered if the hotel took the cash out of the drawer that day. They probably did. She knew the looter had been unsucessful in getting it--she had made sure of that. Besides, she had the key that day.

The key. Where was the cash drawer key? Nini tried to remember. She usually stuck it in a small drawer under the counter where they kept all the odds and ends the cashier needed. She reached under the sales counter and opened the drawer and rifled through its contents. Scissors, stapler, roll of register tape, but no key. Well, maybe accounting took it, she figured. After catching that looter in the act, she was fairly sure that Mr. Rappaport took measures to secure all assets from theft. But just to be sure...

She picked up the phone, hoping it was still working, and dialed the President's extension. To her relief, it worked.

"Felix Rappaport here," came a terse voice.

"Hi, Mr. Rappaport. It's me, Nini."

"Who?"

"Nini Luciano, from the MindFreak store. You let me in just a few minutes ago, remember?"

"Oh, yeah," Felix said, suddenly remembering. "Anything wrong?"

"I just want to know if you took the cash from the cash drawer on the day of the quake, that's all," Nini explained. "Because when I was last here on the day of the earthquake, I caught some guy trying to break into it. I tried to stop him, but--"

"Waitaminit, waitaminit," Felix stopped her. "That was you?"

"Me?"

"Yeah, I was told about a shop clerk who beaned some looter in the MindFreak store with a broom," he told her. "You were the girl who--"

"Well, yeah, but--"

"Well, that was awfully brave of you, young lady," Felix said, "taking on a thief like that. But you should have used the silent alarm instead of risking your life like that."

"Mr. Rappaport, the power was out at the time," Nini argued. "And the thief was right behind the counter--I couldn't get to the button."

Silence on the other end of the line. "Point taken," he said. "But, anyway, in answer to your question, I made sure that all assets were secured in the safe on the day of the quake: all cash registers were emptied, all valuables were turned in--everything. We even took the keys to the cash drawers."

Well, that explains it, Nini thought.

"That looter you saw was the first one we arrested, so I ordered security to take precautions. So, I guess I have you to thank for it; if not for your quick thinking, every shop in the Luxor would have been cleaned out. I guess that makes you a hero."

"Well, gee," Nini mumbled, unsure if she should be proud of herself or not. "Thanks, I guess. Or, you're welcome. Whatever."

"So, I'll let you go and get to work," Felix said. "Have a good day."

"Yeah, same to you." Nini hung up the phone. Her lowered eyes fell onto the broom she had used to defend herself against the looter, still lying where it had been tossed aside. She still could feel the pressure of the looter's body on her chest, his grubby hands clawing at her clothes, the explosion of pain on the side of her face where he struck her, and her throat raw from screaming, then the sudden release of air from her lungs as the guards hauled him off her, and then the spiraling into unconsciousness. No, she didn't feel like a hero then, and she certainly didn't feel like one now. The guards who rescued her--they were the real heroes, not her.

Nini stepped over and picked up the broom. Well, she figured since she was here, she might as well keep her word to Mr. Rappaport and get to work fixing up the place. The store's not going to clean itself, she thought.

Nini smiled. Another one of Nana's pet phrases. This house isn't going to clean itself, you know. Gotta buckle down and get to work. Yeah, Nana was right. It was time to buckle down and get to work. It was time for everyone to buckle down and get to work. The hotel wasn't going to restore itself, you know. Everyone had to do their fair share. Buckle down and get to work.

Nini began sweeping up the broken glass around the empty jewelry counter. What did she do with that dustpan? She looked around for it. There it was, right by the storage room door. She picked it up and swept the shards into it, then dumped it into the wastebasket by the counter. Working proved to be very effective therapy; it made her feel better about herself, gave her a sense of purpose. Within the hour, the floor was clean and the furniture had been put back into place. Nana would have been proud.

The shop suddenly became brighter. Nini looked up and saw the few remaining lights overhead glowing brightly. The power was back on! She poked her head out the door. Sure enough, the whole ground level was aglow with electric light. Elated, she dashed over to the computer terminal at the cashier's desk and turned it on. The monitor glowed, and the terminal hummed, but it took a while for the system to reboot itself. Nini didn't care. To her, it was a sign of things going back to normal.




During his impromptu "personal tour", Criss stopped by the Luxor hotel for several reasons: to entertain the work crew there, to see Felix Rappaport, to check on the progress of the hotel's restoration, and to see if he could go back to his suite again. He hoped the water was running again; neither he nor his clothes hadn't seen soap in a while. He took a discreet whiff under one arm. The stench nearly knocked him backwards. He hoped Felix wouldn't do the same when he hooked up with him.

Criss trotted up to Felix's office. The lights were on again, he noticed--that was a good sign. Maybe the elevators were working, too. He hoped so. It had been weeks since he slept in his own bed. The bunk in the Municipal Center had squeaked ever time he rolled over (and he rolled over a lot that one night he spent there), while the overstuffed sofa at JD's house nearly smothered him. He simply wanted to go up to his suite and just crash.

Criss knocked on the door of Felix's office. "Hey, Felix," he called in. "Everything okay?"

Felix looked up. "Criss! Come on in!"

Criss entered the office. Things had improved since the last time he had been there. For one thing, the lights were back on, and the computer terminal glowed with data just like before. Aside from the streaks of sanded spackling on the walls, the office looked as if it hadn't even been hit.

"So," Felix began. "You still on the...what did you call it? The crap crew?"

"Nah," Criss replied. "I got fired that evening."

"What'd you do?"

"For starters, I 'entered a building without authorization' as they put it," Criss explained. "Then I told that (bleep) of a supervisor where to get off because he wanted to do a head count before every break because I went missing and was unaccounted for."

Felix cringed, laughing. "You just weren't made for the nine-to-five, were you?"

"No, I guess not."

"So, what are you doing now?"

"I'm making personal appearances at a FEMA shelter near you," Criss told him. "I do magic here, help out there, pretty much winging it as I go along. It's kinda like my early days of doing street magic, you know?"

Felix nodded. Criss looked around over his head. "I see the power's back on," he noted. "Think I can go up to my suite again?"

Felix shrugged. "Don't see why not?"

"Good, because I can use a shower and a good long nap," Criss said. "The water back on, too?"

"Not on the upper floors, I'm afraid," Felix told him. "You can use the shower in the gym, though. I have."

"Oh, hey, thanks," Criss said. "I'd hug you, but you don't want to get too close to me right now."

Felix laughed nervously. "Uh, yeah, I'd say you smell pretty..."

Criss knew what he was going to say, and they ended up saying it together.

"...bad!"

They both laughed, then Criss turned to leave. "Well, I'll get myself cleaned up, so I'll catch you later, okay?"

"Sure thing, Criss," Felix said.

Criss took his leave, and Felix returned to work. Criss went to the gym Noting that the equipment was still standing despite the quake (even the barbells were still on their racks), he made a mental note to himself to resume training as soon as things got back to normal. But, first things first. The shower room was calling, and he was answering.

He peeled off his dirty clothes and tossed them aside, reeling from the smell of dirt, grime and his own sweat from them. Padding around naked, he found a fresh, clean towel from the linen room, grabbed a few small wafers of soap (one little sliver wasn't going to do it for him, he figured), a travel size bottle of shampoo, and headed for the first shower stall he estimated to be working. Would there be any hot water? He hoped against hope. He remembered the mayor's edict for conservation despite his desire for a long, luxurious hot shower. Well, he'd have to do his best.

He hung the towel on the hook nearby and stepped into the stall. He hesitated, crossed his fingers for luck, then turned the spigot. Warm water streamed weakly from the shower head. Criss stretched and writhed under it, letting it flow deliciously over his shoulders, down his back and muscular torso, down his hips and thighs all the way to his feet, the dirt and grime of almost four weeks of slogging through dust and rubble flowing down the drain. Criss groaned aloud with relief and ecstacy; he couldn't remember when a shower felt that good.

Save water, spoke the mayor inside his mind. Criss dutifully but reluctantly shut off the shower, peeled the wrappers off the tiny cakes of soap and lathered himself all over, using up every one of them. Then he dumped the entire contents of the shampoo bottle onto his head and scoured his scalp with his fingernails. The shampoo he used wasn't his usual brand, but he didn't care. He would have used baby shampoo if he had to. He could not remember the last time he washed his hair, though it had to have been sometime before the quake. Since then, it had been stuffed in a hardhat and bound in a bandanna. Just the simple act of shampooing was sheer bliss for him.

Criss turned the spigot on and rinsed off. The feeling of soap and shampoo flowing from his hair and skin, leaving a tingling sensation from top to toe, was gratifying. He felt clean again, not only in body, but in mind and spirit. He felt human again.

He turned off the shower, grabbed his towel and dried off. Then he looked at the pile of filthy clothes on the floor. Suddenly, he realized he had a problem: he very well couldn't wear those dirty things after taking a shower, but he couldn't go parading around the hotel naked, either. There were workers and volunteers all around. Oh, well, he'd just have to take his chances. Wrapping a white hotel towel around his loins, he poked his head out of the gym door to see if the coast was clear. No one around. Good! Criss clutched his towel tightly around his hips and made a dash for the elevators.

Around the bend, he heard voices--male voices, those of a couple of workmen coming down the corridor. Criss didn't want to expose himself to them, but he had no place to hide. He looked around wildly. There! The service door of the MindFreak outlet was open. In a flash, Criss was through the door and inside the shop. The workmen never even caught a glimpse of him as they passed. Criss drew a deep sigh of relief, leaning against the wall. He had just begun to relax when he heard a shriek. Startled, he whipped his head around and saw a woman standing there. Her scream had not even died down before he let out a yell of his own.

They stared at each other, shocked and embarrassed for both of them. The woman had gathered her wits long enough to speak.

"Criss?" she said. "Is that you?"

Criss nodded. "Yeah," he quavered. "Yeah, it's me. Who are you?"

"I'm Nini, remember? I work here, or rather used to before the quake." She looked down at the towel covering Criss' intimate parts. "What are you doing here in just a towel?" she asked.

"Oh, well, I-I-I was...well, you see, uh..." Criss stammered, then sighed in exasperation. "You got any clothes around here?"

Nini looked around nervously. "Well, we still have some stock up outside," she said, jerking her thumb toward the shop front. "You can go get some there." Noticing his bare feet, she added hastily, "And don't worry, I just swept up all the broken glass out there, so you'll be safe."

"Thanks." Criss padded out of the storage room to the shop front, still clutching his towel. Nini helped him locate a pair of jeans in his size, a black t-shirt, and a pair of combat boots. He had no underwear or socks, but he could get those once he was up in his suite. Criss ducked into a fitting room to dress; Nini couldn't help but feel a tiny bit disappointed as he did so; she had been secretly thrilled to see Criss Angel in just a towel and, in spite of herself, had wanted to see a little bit more underneath it.

Criss emerged from the fitting room, fully dressed and more like his old self again. All that was missing was the massive collection of bling that he usually wore: the huge, glittering rings, the "Believe" cross with his father's monogram on the base, the circle-A pendant, the handcuff chain, the square ear studs. Without them, he looked almost, well, naked.

"Thanks, Nini," he said. "Now, if you don't mind, I'm going back up to my suite. You know if the elevators are working again?"

"I don't know," she replied, uncertain. "I think so. I mean, I heard them testing them earlier. Now that the power's back on, you can try it."

"Thanks," he repeated. "It's just that I don't want to have to climb up thirty flights of stairs again." He smiled sheepishly. "Sorry to scare you like that," he said. "It's just that I didn't expect to see anyone around here, and, well, you know..."

Nini nodded understandingly. "I know."

"So, I'd best be on my way, now," he said, making his way to the back entrance. "I'll catch you later, okay?"

"Sure," Nini said. "Catch you later."

Criss made a hasty exit, relieved to be wearing clothes again--clean clothes, not the ones he had been wearing for almost a month, which were so filthy they practically stood up by themselves. He made his way to the elevators and again tested his luck when he pushed the UP button. To his surprise and relief, an elevator door slid open. Cautiously, he entered, then pressed the top floor. The doors slid shut, and he heard the familiar hum of the inclining elevator rolling up its tracks, as welcome to him as the voice of an old friend.

Halfway up, he suddenly realized he didn't have his keycard with him. In fact, he couldn't even remember what the hell he did with it. Did he have it in his pocket in his old clothes? Did he leave it at JD's house? He looked at the row of buttons alongside the elevator. It didn't even go up to the top floor where his suite was without his keycard to allow access; it only went as far as twenty-nine. Oh, God, I am so screwed! he thought miserably. I can't even get into my own room!

Maybe he could take the stairs, he thought. Maybe the door was still open. He doubted if looters could get all the way up there without getting caught by security. He'd have to risk it. If he couldn't get in, then he'd have to get Felix's master keycard to let him in, or have him make a new one. At least he didn't have to climb the mountain of stairs to get it.

The elevator stopped at the twenty-ninth floor, just as Criss suspected. That meant taking the stairs again. Well, it was only one flight this time, so he opened the emergency door and strode up the single flight to his floor. Criss pulled the doorhandle of the thiriteth floor emergency door.

Locked.

And the slot beside the door told him needed a keycard for access.

And if this door was locked, then...

He dashed down to the twenty-ninth floor and tried to open it. No response. Realizing he was trapped in the stairwell with no cell phone or any other means of communication, Criss pounded the door in fury, cursing himself for forgetting his keycard. Here he was, the greatest escape artist since Houdini, who had escaped from everything from handcuffs and shackles to cubes filled with cement, locked in the stairwell of his own home! How humiliating! He looked down the spiraling stairs and sighed with resignation. Well, there was only one way out of there and it was going to be long and hard.

Criss collected his nerve and began the long, slow descent down the stairs to the ground floor. Well, he thought, at least the lights are on.

By the order of the Mayor, Oscar B. Goodman, upon the reccommendation of the Las Vegas Municipal Fire and Police Departments, in appreciation for service above and beyond the call of duty, the City of Las Vegas wishes to commend

LESLIE BERNICE FANNING

for her service and dedication during the first twenty-four hours after the Las Vegas Earthquake, August 30, 2008.

Leslie wiped away tears of exhilaration as she stood behind the podium, choking on her acceptance speech, her newly received framed commendation clutched in her hands. Before her, an audience of firefighers, police officers, city officials, fellow dispatchers, and some members of the press applauded her.

"I-I don't know what to say," she sniffled. "I mean, I was just doing my job, that's all, you know? I had the only working computer in the entire building, and I was the only one there, and I couldn't leave anyway, because the door was stuck, you know?"

Laughter from the audience. "Anyway, I just want to say I how proud I am to have received this commendation, and will do my best to continue to serve the community. Thank you, and blessed be!"

More applause. Regina Johnson, however, stared suspiciously at her honored co-worker. Blessed be? she pondered, puzzled. From what I read in the Watchtower, that's how witches greet each other. Is Leslie a witch? Have I been working alongside a Devil-worshipping Satanist all along? She said she wasn't "interested" in Christianity; is that why?

I've got to find out, she decided. I got to know the truth about Leslie. If she is a witch, then it's up to me to turn her away from Satan before it's too late!

[Loyal Lady Dee]

Regina needs to leave it alone and get a lesson in respecting people for who they are and not judge them by religious preference! Congratulations Leslie! And Nini, please go to YouTube or aetv.com and look up MindFreak Naked Jail Escape (wink wink, lol)! Nice job, Veritas! Can not wait to read more!

[RACHEL02189]

That's one of my FAVORITE episode too bad they had to burl the good parts.

[Veritas]

Leslie sat at the crimson-draped table in her freshly restored apartment, shuffling her Tarot cards in her customary manner. It felt good to resume her life's rituals again. Twenty-two hours cooped up in the dispatch office handling call after call after call with no relief in sight--it had been madness!

She had stayed with Oak Tree Mother for the rest of the week, went back to the dispatch office to help with the cleanup, then finally returned to her own apartment, which, thankfully, had not been looted, although there had been some structural damage. The windows were broken, the walls had cracked to the point of collapsing, and her personal possessions lay scattered on the floor. With a light heart and a song on her lips, she had set things to rights.

Her "good" dishes were all broken, having fallen from the hutch in the dining area, but her personal computer had survived, being tethered to their power cords and secured with clips attached to the bottom of the desk. It had taken her two days to set things to rights. The broken items could be replaced, and she had renter's insurance to cover most of the damages. Indeed, she looked forward to going shopping to replace her damaged goods with the insurance check. Oak Tree Mother's shop on Flamingo was having a clearance sale on CDs, decorative items, earthenware, crystals and other Wiccan paraphenalia that hadn't been too badly damaged from the quake. So were almost all the stores in the Metropolitan area. If there was ever a bargain lover's paradise, post-earthquake Las Vegas was it.

The landlord had some contractors repairing the building for the past week, and her windows had just been replaced by some company from Reno. The power was back on, and the water was flowing again, though with warnings to conserve because all of the mains had not been fully repaired yet. It didn't seem to matter to Leslie. Whatever condition it was in, it was still home

Leslie was about to deal the three cards when she was startled by the entry buzzer from the intercom. She had always hated that door buzzer, so loud it made her jump whenever she heard it, even when she was expecting someone. You'd think they'd install something a little more subtle, or at least more friendly, she said to herself. She rose from her table and walked over to the intercom. She pressed the Answer button. "Yes?" she spoke into the intercom.

"Hi, Leslie," came a familiar voice. "It's me, Regina."

Regina? What's she doing here? Leslie wondered as she buzzed her co-worker in. Had she forgotten something at the dispatch office, and Regina was returning it to her? If so, what? No, that can't be it, she thought. She had everything with her from the station right here. But what was she doing here? If she was here to pass on her Jehovah's Witness literature, she could forget it...

A knock on the door. Leslie hesitated, then answered it. Regina stood there, armed with Bible and issues of The Watchtower and Awake!, confirming her worst fears. She wanted to slam the door in her face, but her mother's voice echoing from the back of her subconsciousness told her that would be rude.

"Hello, Leslie," Regina greeted her with a smile.

"Hi, Regina," Leslie returned the greeting cordially.

"I'd like to talk to you, if you don't mind," Regina said, pressing forward.

"About what?" Leslie asked, standing firm.

"If I could come in, we can talk in private," Regina replied. "It has to do with something you said when you received your commendation from the city."

Leslie was puzzled. "What? What did I say to offend you?"

"Oh, it was not anything offensive, I assure you," Regina demurred. "I'd prefer not to talk about it in the hallway. Could I please come in, just for a few minutes?"

Leslie thought about it. "Five minutes," she said. "That's all you are getting, no more."

"Fine," Regina agreed.

Leslie allowed her entry into her apartment. She could feel her disapproving eyes sweeping the room, silently taking note of the Goddess posters, the row of Wiccan books, and the small card table with the Tarot cards still on it. She wished she had put them away before answering the door, but it was too late. She put on a brave face and offered some tea, which, to her relief, she refused. She offered her a seat on the futon couch while she sat in the chair next to her. Facing her on the sofa made her feel as though she was facing a panel of Inquisitors. She looked at the clock on the wall. Five o'clock. She had until five after to make their point and get out.

"So, what did I say that made you all upset?" Leslie asked, concealing her uneasiness.

Regina led the charge. "Do you remember saying 'blessed be' after your acceptance speech?"

Leslie shrugged. "Yeah, so?"

"Isn't that how...witches greet each other?"

"So? What's the big deal?" Leslie argued. "It's a friendly enough phrase. I've heard you use them often enough yourself."

"I never said 'blessed be'," Regina countered. "I said I've been blessed by God, and asked for His blessings, but never 'blessed be', period, like witches do." She leaned closer. "Leslie? Are you a witch?"

Here we go, Leslie thought. "I am a practicing Wiccan," she answered point-blank, "and I am proud of it. And let me say for the record, I am sick and tired of your constant proslytizing to me! I believe in the Mother Goddess, I revere Nature in all its forms, and I belong to a coven. I celebrate life unashamedly, I am not hung up on sexuality like you uptight Christians, and I claim the right to practice my beliefs as freely as you do without interferance according to the First Amendment! If you don't like that, there's the door! Just don't let it hit you on the backside when you're leaving."

"I'm not here to impinge on your rights, Leslie," Regina told her gently. "I'm here to save your soul from eternal damnation. The path you are following is leading you straight to Hell, with the fortune telling cards you got there, and the worship of pagan goddesses. I'm not doing this solely as a Christian. I'm doing this as a friend. If you saw a friend destroying her life with, say, drugs or alcohol, wouldn't you step in and try to help?"

"I am not a drug addict," Leslie insisted. "Nor an alcoholic. I am not destroying my life, I am living it as I see fit."

"You see?" Regina persisted. "You are in denial, just like an addict. You can't see that your pagan ways are hurting you. If you look deep down inside yourself, you'd find the emptiness that only Jesus can free you from. For once, face reality and turn away from these Satanic practices."

"Why don't you face the door and walk on out of here?" Leslie retorted. "I grew up in an overly 'Christian' household like yours. Church every Sunday, family Bible study ever evening after dinner, the guilt-trip sermons of how 'sinful' I was--the whole nine yards! I hated Sunday mornings so much it got to the point where I would feel like throwing up after breakfast, which, by the way, was always cold because my mother was such a stickler in keeping the Sabbath holy she wouldn't even cook! Everywhere I looked, it was judgement, judgement, judgement! Prepare for the Rapture! Jesus is coming soon! The Kingdom is at hand! Seek salvation!

"Do you think I felt God's love from all that? Do you? No! All I got out of it was an inferiority complex that took me years to get over. What good was going to church if you were doomed to go to Hell, anyway? Life sucked for me big time until I got into the Wiccan lifestyle. And do you know what? It was the most liberating thing that happened to me! First day I went to a coven meeting, I became a born-again pagan! In church, women were the root of all evil, the base temptress, Eve, conceiving children in original sin, and so were considered second-class citizens. In Wicca, women have power, because we're one with Mother Earth. There's no Heaven, there's no Hell. We are born, we live, we give birth, we die. Circle of life. No firey pit, no final judgement waiting for us; we're ruled by the cycle of the seasons and our own personal philosophy, not by ancient Scripture. We celebrate every passing phase of a person's life, from birth to death, with music and feasting. You people don't even celebrate your own birthdays! We celebrate the changing of the seasons, the solstices, the harvest, and the coming of spring, while you won't even acknowledge Thanksgiving! What do you people do for fun, anyway? If going around ringing doorbells and handing out pamphlets is your idea of a good time, then count me out, sweetie! At least Wiccans know how to party!"

Regina sat there in stunned silence after Leslie's diatribe. Then she spoke. "I'm sorry your church didn't offer you the spirtual guidance you needed, but that's no reason to turn away from God. We do celebrate life, but we do it without feasting or with material goods. We do have good times together. It's just that we are more aware of the Coming of the Lord, and it's our duty to spread the Word. Do you know why Las Vegas just had an earthquake?"

"Well," Leslie pondered thoughtfully, "I'd say it was because it was triggered by the shifting of tectonic plates under the earth's surface along certain fault lines, creating--"

"No, no, no!" Regina interrupted her. "We know what caused it. I asked why did it happen!"

"I believe I just told you."

"Leslie," Regina sighed, speaking like an exasperated parent admonishing a misbehaving child. "This earthquake we experienced was a warning, a sign from God that He's serious when he says He's coming back to judge the world. He struck Las Vegas because it's a modern-day Sodom and Gomorrah, a new Babylon. Sin City has been warned! It's up to you and others like you to turn away from these Godless practices and seek salvation! That's why I'm here, to guide you away from the darkness of paganism and back into the Light!"

"Regina," Leslie returned in the same tone, "you know the part that says 'You shall know the truth, and the truth shall set you free?'"

"Yes."

"Well, I discovered the truth a long time ago," Leslie said. "And I set myself free. I don't need you to tell me how to live my life, either in this one or the next. The quake was just a natural occurance, nothing more. What happened, happened, because it happened, that's it! No Divine judgement, no Second Coming, just the earth doing what it's been doing since the beginning of time. So, you go your way, and I'll go mine."

Regina rose to leave. "You walk in darkness," she said pityingly.

"And you have your head in the clouds!" Leslie shot back.

Regina held out an issue of Awake! "Here, at least read this," she offered.

"No, thank you."

"Please?" Regina pleaded. "At least look through it. You might find something in your life that's missing."

"What I'm missing is a quiet evening at home," Leslie retorted. "I'll see you at work tomorrow. Good-bye, Regina."

Regina withdrew the magazine. "Well, I tried," she sighed resignedly. "But, please, think about what I said, will you?"

"Okay," Leslie nodded, then paused for a moment, seemingly deep in thought. "Ummm--no!"

Regina walked to the door, but turned to Leslie for one last parting shot. "God is not mocked, Leslie," she warned her. "You're joking around, but your soul is in danger of eternal damnation. In the end, you'll see that I was right all along, and then it will be too late. Think about that!"

"Have a nice evening, Regina," Leslie smiled.

Regina left the apartment. Leslie heaved a huge sigh of relief and returned to her cards. So now Regina knew about her Wiccan ways. If she tried to "witness" to her at work, she could complain to Morton. But hold the phone! She just remembered that she had been promoted to assistant supervisor! Technically, she outranked Regina, and so could file a report on her if she did. Maybe she could pull her newly aquired rank and have her stop leaving those stupid magazines in the break room. It was worth a try.

But what was to stop her from harassing her at home, like today? Well, she would just have to stand firm, she guessed. She had already given her a piece of her mind five minutes ago, just as she had always wanted to. Regina was simply going to have to learn to be tolerant of other people's faiths. Even if it meant going over her head at work.




Criss lay in bed, exhausted. His legs felt like Jell-O after his third trip down the entire thirty flights of stairs. Forget the treadmill in the gym, he thought--he had had more than enough leg exercise for a lifetime! He had found his keycard in the pocket of his dirty jeans, along with his wallet and his watch which he had stuffed in there as he showered, then gratefully rode up the elevator directly to his suite, went in, stumbled to the bedroom and crashed like a felled tree onto the king-sized mattress. Memo to self, thought Criss, don't leave keycard in pants. Carry it with you at all times.

He dozed fitfully, oblivious to the whisperings outside the bedroom door. Then four little paws landed on his back. Startled awake, Criss turned over and saw his beloved cat standing on the bed beside him.

"Hammie!" He clutched the bemused feline tightly, kissing the delicate head, tears of joy trickling down his face. "How did you get here? Oh, God! I missed you so much!"

"Surprise!"

Criss looked up. Standing before him was his two brothers, JD and Costa, accompanied by Felix Rappaport. Criss wiped the tears away with the back of his hand and rose up from the bed, too happy to remenber how tired he had been.

"How'd you guys get in here?" he asked, "and when did you pick up Hammie?"

JD held up a finger. "One, Felix let us in with his keycard, and two," he held up a second finger, "sometime this morning. How ya doin', Criss?"

Criss sniffled, wiping his nose with his hand. "I'm fine, now that I got Hammie back," he said. "I so totally owe you guys, I really do! Thanks so much for getting Hammie back for me! I can't tell you how much I missed him!"

"We also came to bring you this," Felix said, holding a plastic shopping bag at arm's length. "You left these in the shower room."

Criss set Hammie down on the mattress and took the bag. The stench of his own filth hit him in the face. JD staggered back, coughing, the moment he caught a whiff of Criss' dirty laundry.

"I think you'd better wash them," Felix suggested.

"I think you'd better burn them!" JD suggested more strongly. "Should've called HazMat!"

Costa could only stand there and chuckle. Criss twisted the bag of clothes to cut off the smell. "Thanks, Felix," he said, "I'll take care of it."

"We got news from Mom," Costa told Criss. "She sent us each a 'care package'. Yours is outside."

Criss went into the living room and saw a foot-square box sitting on the table. Like a child on Christmas morning, he flew toward the parcel and began to tear it open eagerly. He spread open the flaps and pulled out the bubble wrap, tossing it aside heedlessly. Then he began to remove the contents: a six-pack of bottled water; a couple of pairs of clean CKs and a few pairs of clean socks ( both from his home in West Islip, no doubt); a couple of cans of cat food for Hammie; a tin of chocolate chip cookies; some deodorant; a bar of soap; a tube of sanitizer gel; a package of disposable razors; a plastic comb; a travel-sized toothbrush and small tube of toothpaste; a small first aid kit; and a lavender envelope with his name written in his mother's handwriting.

Criss tore open the envelope and read the letter contained in it.

Dear Christopher:

I have been praying for you and your brothers since I heard about the earthquake in LV. I know things are terrible for you over there, and since you suggested to me to do something about it, I am sending you these things to help you get through. I miss you very much, and I pray you are well. George is here in New York with his mother and is eager to go back to work for you. I know you are busy with the relief effort over there, but please call me when you get this package. Aunt Stella and Aunt Popi send their love and prayers to you. May God bless you and your brothers.

Love, Mom.

"Awwww, that was so sweet of her!" Criss gushed. "Hey! I gotta call her! Where's my phone?"

Costa jerked his thumb towards the bedroom. "It's in there," he mumbled.

Criss dashed into the bedroom, found his phone by the night stand, and phoned his mother.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Mom, it's me," Criss said.

"Christopher! Are you all right?"

"Yeah, I got your care package, and I really appreciate it! You are the greatest! Thank you so much!"

"Is everything all right over there?"

"We're getting back up on our feet again," Criss said. "We got the power back on, and the water's almost working. I just had the first shower I ever took since the quake! I could have used that soap you sent, because I had to use the little bitty ones the hotel gives out! It took about four or five of them to get me clean!"

His mother laughed. "Well, I am glad you are all right. Are your brothers there?"

"Yeah, just a minute." He poked his head out of the bedroom door. "JD? Costa? Mom wants to talk to you!"

He tossed his phone to JD, who deftly caught it in midflight. "Hey, Ma, how's it going?" he said jovially.

Criss withdrew into the bedroom where Hammie lay curled up on the rumpled bedclothes. "Hey, Hammie!" he crooned. "How ya doin', huh? They treat you okay at the shelter? They feed you good, and clean out your litter box, and stuff like that? Huh?"

Hammie purred as Criss stroked him, feeling for anything out of the ordinary on the cat's sinewy body. No swellings that he could feel, no scarring on his paws from walking on a wire mesh cage. No ticks in the ears, no fleas under the fur. The eyes looked clear and bright, with no unusual discharges around the sockets. The claws could use some trimming, though. What did he do with that new PediPet claw trimmer he had just ordered? Must be in the drawer where he kept all of Hammie's grooming items. He picked up Hammie and carried him to the living room.

Meanwhile, Costa was talking to Mom on the phone. "Yeah, Ma, he's right here," Costa said, then thrust the phone to Criss. "Here, Mom wants to talk to you."

Criss shifted Hammie to his left arm while juggling the phone with his right. "Hey, Ma, what's up?" he asked.

"You know how long it will be before it's safe to come in to Las Vegas?" she asked.

"Well, I know a few of the airports are running full service again," he answered her. "But there's been more outgoing than incoming, and I know the roads aren't fully repaired yet. Why, does George want to come back to Vegas?"

"Not George," she said. "Me."

"You!?" Criss grew alarmed. "Ma, it's too dangerous right now, okay? I mean, I know you're worried about us and all, but I think you should hold off until the roads are passable again."

"You said yourself things were improving."

"Yeah, but not that improved! Look, Mom, just sit tight, okay? Once things are back to normal, you can come here, I promise."

"Listen," his mother said sternly. "I have worried myself sick over my three boys being over there, going through that earthquake, not to mention my only granddaughter and my daughter-in-law! George and I are coming over on the first plane we can get. I don't care how we get there, we will be there, God willing! Where we stay doesn't matter. I just want to see my family again!"

"Look, Ma--"

A dial tone hummed in his ear. His mother had hung up. Criss flipped his phone and stuffed it into his pocket with a sigh of despair. JD, Felix and Costa looked at him bemusedly. "Well, guys," Criss said, "looks like Mom's coming to Vegas."

[Loyal Lady Dee]

Another great chapter, Veritas!
Regina-give it up! You are harrassing a co-worker, who you will soon come to find out is a supervisior-you are likely to get fired! Please just stop with the religion!
Leslie-way to stand your ground, Regina should take lessons from you in respect!
I seriously hope our "Main Greeks" will all be okay!

On a real life note, I just wanted to take time out to recognize how awesome Criss and his mom and brothers and family (including Hammie and all those close to them) are. It is a Son of a MindFreak Greek to become exposed to the public eye, no doubt about it. I know I speak for myself and all the true Loyal worldwide when I say that we understand we are supporting genuine human beings. Had they not let us into part of their lives, there would be no Loyal, there would be no MindFreak or BeLIEve, there would be no works of art (both written, pictoral, and Madame Tussaud's Wax) in forever tribute. So I thank you Criss, and your entire family, for putting yourselves out here and letting The Loyal into part of your life. "Love Lives Forever"

[RACHEL02189]

two things:

Now we know where Criss got his stubborness from
I hate Regina I'm having a conflict of religion right now and my family is starting to act like Regina

[Veritas]

Oh? How?