LaCountess had arrived at Toronto International airport at 3:00 pm. She had
to go through the check out and luggage pickup even though she was beat from
the 4 hours and 25 minutes flight from Vancouver to Toronto. Now she was
standing outside the airport, waiting for the cab she had called to take her
to CotK's head quarter, the Comfy Cottage.

"Wonder what that looks like." She asked herself. True she had seen the
floor plans on the Internet, but seeing the actual place must be a
completely different experience. The cab finally arrived and she sighed in
relief. She had given the Taxi service precise description on how big the
trunk should be to fit all her luggage. Of course, as always, she had her
entire wardrobe with her.

The driver stepped out and eyed her cheerily "Ciao, bella signorina. Now,
how are you doin' today?"

She was stunned. <When did Roberto Benigni become a cab driver in Toronto?>
Although she had to admit this guy was cuter and a little younger than the
gifted comedian, his accent and joyous behavior very much reminded her of
him.

"Yeah, I mean hi, I need to go to this address. And would you help me with
my luggage please?"

The Italian man looked at the stack of suitcases all piled up on the
sidewalk and let out a cry of shock, "Mamma Mia, you hava your house packed
in there?"

LaCountess snickered, "No, just my family." At his surprised look she just
handed him the address and hopped in the cab. It took the poor man a while
to load all the stuff into the car's trunk and set the car into gear. He
drove with one elbow resting on the side window and the car stereo playing
one of the most recent Itallo pop songs that were currently so famous in
Europe.

"Name's Stephano!" He said with a smug smile and not taking his eyes off the
road, "Beena here for a 4 a yearsa now, greata città, Toronto. Good good
notte.err whatta they call.uh nightlife."  <Yeah, if you only knew.> she
thought with a smirk. "You from where signorina?" He asked casually.

"Vancouver BC. I've been there for 4 years too, just recently became a
Canadian citizen."

"Ah, good good. Citizen, I need to become citizen too. Good country Canada,
just a 4 a yearsa here, but Canada, yeah good country." He shook his head
approvingly.  She was charmed by his cute behavior. Perhaps she could get
his phone number and call him if they needed transportation during the war.
She made a mental note to ask Kyer that.

"You here onna business signorina, or touring?" Stephano asked in the same
sporty manner. "Neither, I'm here for the war." She answered absentmindedly.

"Che cosa avete.I'm meano.Whattaya said?"

She immediately realized her slip but thought what the heck. Let's confuse
the poor charming guy a little. With the same slack tone she replied, "Yeah,
me and a few friends are here to defend the honor of our faction against
other factions playing in the war."

The guy turned to her with a frightened expression on his face, "You in a
mob signorina? That isa bad, very very dangerous," he motioned with his
hand, pointing at his chest a few times, "I wasa involved ina mobbe once.
Very bad, very very bad, people getta killed."

She giggled, "Don't worry, we have a cop on our side."

His eyes grew wider, "Mama Mia! Corrupt polizia involved. You are going to
die."

This time she couldn't suppress her laughter, "No, we are going to kick
their butts. And our ally is not a corrupt cop; he's the best in Toronto PD.
No one is his match, except for his father perhaps."

"Oh, cop's father involved too. So it isa `guerra della famiglia'.err
famiglia war. How olde isa the father?"

"Hmm, a little under 2000 years old I guess. His son is 800."

The Italian man seemed to think for a few minutes before saying, "Uh,
signorina, my English'sa not that good. You said two thousand? That is.you
mean `due mila'?"

She knew `mila' in Italian meant thousand. With a casual smile she replied,
"Why yes. He is two thousand years old, and very powerful. But that's no
problem, because he can't tolerate sunlight, garlic, wooden crosses and
sharp stakes. And he's kind of a friend too, considering our faction loves
both father and son, that's the beauty of it."

He didn't talk anymore until they reached the Comfy Cottage.  As Stephano
unloaded all her luggage and stood there by the cab still looking a little
confused and possibly bummed at the concept of being taken for a fool during
the entire conversation, she rang a brisk tattoo on the doorbell.
Sunny took a sympathetic look at him and when the door opened, she whispered
something in Kyer's ear. She snickered, went into the house and came back
with something in her hand. She walked toward the confused driver and put
the item in his hand, whispering, "I'm sure Sunny will pay you after she
finishes with us. For now, please accept these as a souvenir from the CotK."
Stephano looked down at his palm, and saw a pair of Glow-in-the-dark fangs
placed there. He shook his head. A few minutes later, he was on his way to
pick up the next commuter while the girls giggled at the last look he had
given them.

------

Even to a war newbie, the rumours on the list were sounding ominous, so
Kezia wasn't entirely surprised to read Kyer's post requesting that the rest
of the CotK join her in the Comfy Cottage asap.Going on the 'net, she
started searching flight info, and groaned when she realised the last flight
from London Heathrow to Toronto was at 9.05pm - it was 8.45pm already!

Next flight out was at 8.50am... "I don't *do* international flights at
9.00am - you have to be at the airport two hours before that, allow time for
getting washed, dressed, packing  nightgear, and getting to the airport in
the rush hour.  Breakfast would be a  nice thought, too.... " she thought,
dutifully booking her ticket anyway.

The next few hours passed in a whirl as she emailed the CotK list to let
them know her arrival time at Lester B Pearson Int'l Airport, rang her
sister to arranged for her teenage niece to apartment/ kitty-sit for the
next two weeks, booked a taxi to take her the first leg of the journey to
Hemel Hempstead's bus station where she would catch the Jetlink coach to
Heathrow, before putting her years of experience at convention packing to
the ultimate test - packing for a fortnight in a foreign country, with a War
imminent and no advance warning.