Disclaimers 1: Xena, Gabrielle, their clones (who I happen to be using for this tale) Argo and Alti, all belong to someone else. I’m just borrowing them for a while.

Thanks to Merpups Deb and Wendy for allowing me to use their very sexy ‘Cleopatra’ skit. I appreciate your kindness gals.

Greetings, gentle readers. Join with us as we pay a visit to our two favorite clones who have, as we shall see, adjusted quite nicely to the world that dear old Alti had scientifically birthed them into. Aided by a very convenient nest egg of cash that the witch had stashed at her laboratory, the battling babes have been content to wander the countryside, drifting wherever the wind blows them and often landing them…

"Tell me again why we’re doing this," the leggy, lanky blonde muttered to her petite, curly, chestnut-haired companion.

"Because some tall, dark and doofy individual, who shall remain nameless, had heard that there are, oh, what’s that word." delicate eyebrows furrowed in concentration. "Ah, there are ‘conventions’ held in her honor and she wanted to, and I quote here, ‘see what all the fuss was about.’ And so," the shorter woman spread her arms expansively. "Here we are, at the" she stole a quick glance at the placard on the wall beside the wide-open double doors. "First Annual Dearborne Xena Convention and Solstice Celebration."

"Right, I knew that," the tall woman muttered absently as she stood watching the organized pandemonium in front of them. People of every size, shape and color, dressed (or undressed) in all manner of leather, feathers, and armor dashed around. Every inch of wallspace was adorned with posters, plaques, pictures and shelves filled to capacity with Xena related merchandise. Garishly dressed merchants hosted banquet tables filled with faux swords, chakrams and plastic Sais. "Gods, this reminds me more of a Dinosyian festival than a convention in my name," the warrior grumbled. Reaching up suddenly, the tall woman dug her nails in the back of her scalp. "This gods-be-damned wig is gonna kill me."

"Well, you’re the one that wanted to ‘do-this-undercover-so-we-wouldn’t-attract-attention,’" the bard shot back with a smirk. "Although I don’t see how a stacked, six-foot blonde in a blue silk shirt, black and gold cowboy boots, and black leather pants that look like they were painted on wouldn’t attract attention."

The warrior’s defensive reply was cut short as a seven-foot penguin, carrying a diet Coke ambled past. "Forget I said that," the bard mumbled dazedly. "You’re way understated."

Xena eyed the black and white creature for a long moment before shaking her head and turning back to her companion who looked adorably outdoorsy in hiking boots, khaki dockers, tan button-down shirt and olive green suspenders. "Thanks, butch, you’ll blend too," she responded dryly just before she snagged a suspender strap and let it snap.

Several hours later, we find our intrepid duo lounging in a conveniently vacant corner munching on Warrior Burgers, (one-third pound of lean beef, topped by….er…with spicy ham) sipping Bards Brew (warm cider sprinkled with cinnamon) and watching with no small amusement the parade of X:WP lookalikes that passed by. Xena’s eyebrow disappeared under her bangs as she noticed a rather convincing Ares imitation strolling by them with a very contented Siamese Cat perched in his arms.

"Hey, check that out," she nudged her companion.

"Oooh, not bad. But what’s up with the cat?"

"Damned if I know, but if his personality’s anything like the real Ares, then that’s probably the only pussy he can get," the warrior sneered, nonchalantly ducking the cidery spray from her companion’s nose as the poleaxed bard found she couldn’t laugh, swallow and breathe at the same time.

"By the gods, Xena, you are such a wench," the bard chortled as she wiped her eyes.

"Yeah, but I’m your wench," the warrior responded cheekily.

An explosion of whistles and flashbulbs interrupted the bard’s confirming reply, as both heads swiveled, looking for the source of the disturbance. Noticing a cluster of bodies congregated in the corner of an adjoining room, the two women ditched their leftovers and went to investigate.

After much pushing, poking and swearing, the two made it to the front of the crowd.

And stopped dead in their tracks.

There, up on a small platform, sprawled in a languorous, feline pose was an obscenely striking brunette with shoulder length, Cleopatra-style hair and wearing nothing but golden chains. (and a modest golden bikini that covered strategic areas, or course.)

"Whoa!"

"Double whoa!"

The warrior was so awed by the black-haired beauty and her decadent display, that she almost missed her companion’s declaration.

"Be right back, Xe. I gotta see a woman about some chains."

Almost, but not quite. "Oh no ya don’t," the warrior growled snaking a long arm out and snagging a set of suspenders.

"Hey!" the bard yelped as she found herself being hauled backwards.

"Down, girl! She’s got her own little blonde keymistress," the warrior growled, indicating the pretty, blonde Gabrielle lookalike, clad in a white-fringed go-go outfit that was currently perched beside the buxom brunette and sporting a golden keyring in her teeth.

"Oooh, not bad."

"Humph"

The bard turned her attention back to her seriously pouting mate. "Aw, Xe, don’t be like that," the bard cajoled.

"I’m not being like anything," the warrior grumped, her lip poking out even further. "If you wanna dump me for a babe in chains, go right ahead."

"Xe."

"I don’t mind being kicked to the curb."

"Xena."

"Even after I’ve given you the best…uh…weeks of my life, I…" Her diatribe was interrupted by petite fingers covering her lips.

"Sweetie, did you notice that she’s got the same…er…dimensions as you," the bard demurely inquired.

A slight nod and a skeptically raised eyebrow was her answer.

"I wanted to save myself some time and see if I could buy her chains," the bard purred with a lubricious grin.

"Um…" Blue eyes widened comically.

"Of course, we won’t need the gold bikini."

"We won’t?" was a tremulous squeak.

"Nuh uh."

"Oh."

"We’ll get back to those ladies later," the bard grinned, taking her shell-shocked warrior by the hand and leading them away from the crowd. "Somebody needs to get the circulation back in her legs."

"Uh huh," was the last squeak on that subject.

Several hours later….

"Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me," the warrior rumbled incredulously as she dangled an ‘Original, One-of-a-Kind, X:WP Breast Dagger’ between thumb and finger.

"Oh no indeedy," the too cheerful merchant piped up. "This is a genuine copy of the deadly, razor-sharp breast dagger that the Warrior Princess keeps stashed in her ti…er…cleavage."

"Uh huh," the warrior commented dryly. "Where’s the sheath for it?"

"Sheath?" he parroted, perplexed. "It has no sheath. Whyever would it need a sheath?" he inquired as he smiled a welcome to the curly-haired moving up behind the big blonde.

Xena stared at him, incredulous for a long moment. "Well then, how do you suppose I..er..she tucks away and whips out this ‘deadly, razor sharp weapon’ without slicing off her boobs?" she questioned smugly, confident that she had this fuzz brain on the ropes.

"The Warrior Princess has many skills," he proclaimed supremely. "Now if you’ll excuse me, I have paying customers to tend to." And with that, he marched down to the end of the table, completely dismissing the goggle-eyed, sputtering blonde that was being dragged away by her highly amused, shorter companion.

*****

The petite lumberjack/bard wandered from table to table, trying her best not to giggle at the grumbling that was still coming from her blonde warrior. An odd looking item made her stop dead in her tracks. "Hey, Xe, look at this," the bard chirped, pointing to a large, round slab of what appeared to be wood. In the center of the circle there appeared to be a picture of a middle-aged man with curly hair. The picture was overlaid by thin circles, that grew smaller until they reached the exact center, which appeared to be a red dot that was placed conveniently over the man’s nose.

"What do you suppose that is," the bard remarked to her companion.

"It’s a dartboard, young lady," a cheerfully dressed, middle-aged woman answered from behind the table. Noting the blank expression on the young woman’s face, she explained. "It’s a game. You hang this up on the wall, stand back about twenty paces and throw these darts at it," she held up a brightly colored example. "The object being, to hit dead center, or as close to the center as possible; therefore earning the most points."

"I see," the bard answered slowly. "Do they all have this…um…face in them?" The game sounded like fun, but she could do without the face.

"Nah," she responded glibly. "Regular dartboards don’t even have a picture in them, just numbers. I made these up special; for those of us that want to show our ‘appreciation’ to this jer…um…guy," she pointed to the picture.

"Not a big fan of his, I take it," the tall blonde conjectured dryly.

"Not in the least," the woman growled.

"Um, can I ask why?" the bard ventured.

"You mean you don’t know?" the older woman huffed, incredulously.

Two heads shook vigorously.

"Been out of touch for a while," the bard offered lamely.

"Ain’t that the truth," the warrior muttered, catching a glare from the bard and a suspicious squint from the lady merchant.

"Well then, you’re in for a real treat," the older woman sniffed sarcastically and then proceeded to enlighten the duo.

25 minutes later….

"He wouldn’t! He didn’t!! That’s horrible!!!" the smaller woman gasped, her wide green eyes glassy with unshed tears, her small hand clutching painfully the larger hand of her ominously silent partner.

"He would, he did and yes, it is," the older woman confirmed grimly. "He said it was his ‘vision’ for her all along," she snorted.

A snort was the petite woman’s only warning before her tall companion proceeded to light the air around them with a stream of invectives, spoken in several different tongues, that was guaranteed to make a demon blush.

Several insistent tugs on her shirtfront brought the brought the spitting, hissing blonde to an abrupt halt as she glared down at the source of the tugs.

"Ix-nay on the emper-tay," the bard hissed though a forced grin as her eyes signaled the taller woman to look around.

Catching the hint, the blonde looked around, then turned neon-red as she noticed all the open-mouthed, wide-eyed, not-daring-to-breathe faces that were looking her way.

"Um."

Suddenly a voice cut through the stupefied crowd.

"YEAH, WHAT SHE SAID!

With a few chuckles and several ‘what-was-that-all-about’ shrugs, the crowd returned to their various pursuits.

"I need a break," the bard grumbled, trying to massage away a burgeoning headache.

"Sounds good," the warrior agreed readily. "Let’s take a walk outside and then check out the dining room," she offered, leading her small companion away and casting an ‘I’ll-be-back-for-one-of-those’ looks at the grinning merchant.

"Xena?"

"Hmm?"

"Remind me to get one of those plastic ‘Official Battling Bard Staffs’ before we leave."

"What in the world for?"

"So that next time you suggest attending one of these things, I can shove it up your mmpph…"

"Oh, that was good," the warrior sighed, patting her full stomach and leaning back in her chair as she stretched long, lean legs under the small, quiet corner table they had claimed earlier.

"Mmm," the bard agreed in a delighted, stomach-sated hum. "We’d have been in trouble if we had this back in Greece."

"Too true," the warrior chuckled. "Argo would have gone on strike within a moon."

Their attention was claimed by a spate of guffaws that erupted from a nearby cluster of tables.

"Wonder what’s going on over there," the smaller woman pondered aloud.

"Only one way to find out,"

*****

"A what hunt?!"

"A ‘Scavenger’ hunt," the little bald man in the roman toga patiently reiterated for the third time.

"Why in Tartarus are we hunting vultures, and what does that have to do with the stuff on this list?"

A number of players slumped in their seats and broke out the Snickers Bars and the little man sighed and thanked his lucky stars that his wife was a redhead. "We’re not hunting vultures, we’re hunting for the items on the list. Everybody is given two hours to find all that stuff and bring it back to me. Whoever finds all the items first wins the prize. Or if all the items are not found, then the person with the most items wins. The prize you win is a coupon for a free Xena: Warrior Princess Chakram tattoo. You got all that?"

The warrior and bard studied the list, then exchanged looks.

"I could handle a tattoo like that," the bard waggled her eyebrows.

"Do I get to pick the location?" the warrior whispered with a leer.

"Oh yeah."

"We got it, and we’re in," the warrior announced finally, prompting several relieved sighs and a few thankful prayers to minor gods and goddesses.

"I still don’t see what it has to do with vultures," the warrior muttered to the bard that just shrugged as she moved toward the door.

*****

"Xe, have you looked at the stuff on this list?" The bard’s eyebrows were furrowed as she reexamined the list. "Where are we supposed to find handcuffs, baby booties, a red ribbon, a crown, a dog biscuit, a dumbbell, and a bouquet of daisies?"

The warrior wiggled her eyebrows and grinned. "We have many skills."

*****

Later that evening at the friendly, local Motel Five and a Half….

The warrior sat on the bed with her back against the headboard, fingering the hem of her lacy purple teddy and sipping watermelon wine.

"So that was a Xena convention," the restored brunette pondered aloud as she studied the contents of her clear, plastic cup.

"Muh huh," was the muffled reply from the blonde in the bathroom whose mouth was too full of toothbrush and toothpaste to be more verbose.

"I’m curious though. They called it Xena Convention slash Solstice Celebration, but I didn’t see any Solstice decorations."

"You mean you didn’t see the life-size, cardboard Xena, wearing a barely there red bikini trimmed in white fur, sitting on a six-foot, stuffed Argo with antlers on its head?" the now clean-mouthed bard grinned from the doorway.

The warrior’s eyes bulged. "You’ve got to be kidding me!"

"Nope," was a little too cheerful.

"They put antlers on Argo?!"

The bard rolled her eyes and ducked back in the bathroom muttering something about warriors and their damn horses.

"Well, all things considered, it was kinda fun," the slightly buzzed warrior ventured further.

And received a green-eyed death glare from the bathroom.

"Okay…well…the scavenger hunt was fun though," the warrior offered meekly and received a non-committal grunt from the bathroom.

"And we had it won too," the warrior lamented with a petulant scowl. "I don’t see how you could have lost those handcuffs after all the trouble we went through to…" the warriors train of complaint became quickly derailed by the sensually languorous approach of a very naked bard with one hand behind her back and one very lascivious smile on her face.

"Um," the warrior’s ability to speak took a hike, as the small blonde seemed to flow up on the bed and across her body, firmly straddling the brunette’s torso.

The bard leaned forward, capturing the warrior’s lips in a long, deep, wet kiss as she moved the cup of wine from numb fingers and placed it on the nightstand. Finally drawing back, she grinned mischievously as she pulled her hand from behind her back and dangled her chrome-plated prize in front of wide warrior eyes.

"Who says I lost ‘em?"

END