Disclaimer: Procter and Gamble owns everything remotely connected to Another World such as the characters and the town. Now, I'm not even borrowing their characters for this one, but I thought I'd better mention this just to play it safe. ;-)

Acknowledgements: This is for all the 'girls' on Mike's board. This is written in fun, and I hope you enjoy it!! For those not mentioned by name, please forgive me! But trust me, you are certainly included!

A group of women lurked quietly outside the NBC studios, waiting for most of the cast and crew to leave the premises so they could make their move. Most were dressed completely in black from head to toe with one notable exception. Costumed as a Klingon, from the heavy brow ridges to the heavy and bulky body armor, including the qutluch dagger at her waist and the finely honed and polished bat'leth she carried in one hand, she was to provide the necessary distraction for the others to sneak in and overpower the night watchmen. In the background, soft music played sounding remarkably like the theme from "Mission: Impossible."

"Who's watching Sharon," Vicki whispered in Jericho's ear. "We don't want her hitting the pavement face first if she happens to catch a glimpse of Mike."

Jericho grinned. "Barbi and Mich have that detail. They'll keep her distracted when he leaves. Cherie's the lookout."

Eyes widening, Vicki said, "And who's going to distract Cherie?"

"She promised to keep her mind on her job. She wants this to work, too," Jericho replied with a shrug.

With a rueful grin, Vicki said, "I should probably worry about who's going to distract me, if I happen to see Mike." After a little pause, she added, "Everyone knows the drill?"

Jericho nodded. "You distract the guards, and in that getup it shouldn't be hard, some of us sneak upstairs to Laiman's office while the rest help you overpower the guards downstairs. After they're secured, Barbi, Mich, and Sharon will assume the night guards' posts."

Fingering the sharpened point of the bat'leth with a feral smile, Vicki asked, "Who's going to be watching the idiots in control?"

"Don't even think about it!" Jericho exclaimed. "We're not letting you within twenty feet of either of them."

Looking at Jericho in wide-eyed innocence, Vicki asked, "Don't you trust me?"

"No. You're a little too attached to your Klingon persona."

Vicki clutched her heart theatrically. "I'm crushed. Absolutely devastated that you don't trust me."

"Oh, stow it, Vicki," Cherie said, coming up behind them. "Jericho, Lanie, Clare, and the other writers are counting on you to help them counteract the idiots in control's mistakes."

Muttering under her breath, Vicki replied, "I'd much rather stand guard over the idiots in control. It would be a lot more fun."

Jericho and Cherie rolled their eyes. "We have got to get her out of that costume as soon as possible," Jericho muttered as Cherie nodded in agreement.

When the mass exodus from the studio began, the women all slipped back further into the shadows. Sharon kept trying to stand on her tiptoes in order to watch for a certain green-eyed Jersey Boy, but Barbi and Mich kept her in firm control. Leslie, however, did get a little weak-kneed at the sight, but Nicole and Ann kept her upright. "There should be a law," more than one of the ladies muttered, gazing at their hero with awestruck hero-worship.

"It's showtime," Jericho said, setting the plan in motion.

With a feral grin, Vicki said, "Give me a couple of minutes to get the guards' full attention. And then send in the troops."

As they watched her enter the studio's lobby, Jericho and Cherie exchanged another worried look. "She's enjoying this way too much," Cherie said.

"I know," Jericho answered. "But are you going to tell her that?"

"Me?" Cherie asked, with a worried expression.

"Yeah. I know the feeling."

Through the glass front of the building, they could watch as their 'Klingon' friend stalked toward the guard, bat'leth in hand. Although they couldn't hear the exchange, they could see three pairs of eyes never leaving the swiftly moving bat'leth that she kept waving under their noses. Every so often their heads would jerk back in unison as the bat'leth came a little to close to their skin for comfort.

"I'd say she has their undivided attention," Jericho grinned. "Let's go, Ladies!"

In twos and threes, they all crept into the studio lobby. Several moved to the elevators and stairs, preparing to storm the headwriter's office. Others moved cautiously toward the spellbound guards. Moments later, it was over. The three guards lay bound and gagged in the small office behind the desk they usually sat at. "Don't worry," Sharon assured them, as she finished tying the gag of the second guard. "This won't take too long, and then we'll be gone."

"It's something that must be done if we're to save "Another World" from cancellation," Barbi told them. "It's nothing personal."

"We just love our 'World'," Mich said with a smile.

"Just don't let that crazy lady with the weapon near us again," the third guard asked, as Sharon began tying his gag.

"Oh, she has other duties to perform now," Sharon told them.

Down the hall, Cherie and Jackie each had hold of one of Vicki's arms as they dragged her toward the elevators. "But it was just getting interesting," she protested. "Are you sure they don't need more intimidating?"

"No," Jackie told her. "You've intimidated enough people for one night. Now you get to write."

With a deep sigh of regret, Vicki said, "If I must." Smiling brightly, she asked, "Are you sure I can't help with the idiots in charge? I'm sure they need intimidating."

"Right about now, I'd say that Jericho has them nicely in hand," Cherie said.

"Well, darn. I'm missing all the fun!"

Upstairs in the headwriter's office, Jericho wiped her hands with satisfaction, staring about the now empty room. After sticking her head out the door, Jericho saw that Ann was still standing guard outside the large storeroom with two new inhabitants. Soon she would be joined by Jackie and Cherie.

Rubbing her hands together, Jericho said, "Let's get started. It's time to Save our World."

Jericho, as the appointed headwriter, began delegating writing assignments to the other writers. "Lanie, you write the reconciliation scene between Cameron and Alli. Make that little girl beg. Clare, you write the denouement of David Halliday. Make sure he squirms." For several minutes, she continued handing out assignments to the other writers.

When Vicki entered during the process, she pleaded, "Please let me write Sparky's death scene. Please."

Turning her stern headwriter's gaze at Vicki who was still dressed as a Klingon, Jericho answered, "Maybe. But only on two conditions."

Vicki scowled. "Conditions?"

"First, you take off that Klingon costume. I need you thinking like a human, not a Klingon."

After careful consideration, and the fact that the headpiece was making her sweat, Vicki agreed. "Okay. I'll take off the costume. What's the second condition?"

"No silver bullets, dipped in holy water and blessed by the pope." Watching the glimmer of wildness in Vicki's eyes, she added, "No dismemberment, crushing in trash compactors, or any other gruesome death. This is a family show."

With a sigh of regret, Vicki said, "Okay. I can do that."

Turning to the rest of the writers, Jericho said, "Ladies, let's get to work. We have three days to crank out six months of scripts for the idiots in the closet."

Over the next three days as the writers worked feverishly in the headwriter's office, the rest of the crew got to know the three guards very well. As it turned out, they were also Another World fans and were quite disgruntled with the storylines, too. So they helped the ladies in every way they could, and spent a lot of the weekend eating pizza, drinking beer, and playing poker. A fun time was had by all.

The time finally came for the writers to let the idiots out of the closet. After opening the door, Jericho said, "We're finished now. If you'll come with me, I will present you with the scripts for the next six months."

"Six months?" they suttered in unison.

"We work fast."

Opening the door to the headwriter's office, Jericho motioned the others to enter. Both stopped short. Seated at the headwriter's desk was a Klingon. A honed bat'leth lay on the desk beside her, catching the beams from the overhead light. She was cleaning her nails with her qutluch dagger, a very wicked looking knife with a large triangular blade. Hearing them in the doorway, she turned her gaze to them. With a feral grin, she slammed the blade point first into the desk. As it stood upright, caught in the wooden surface, she said, "About time. We need to talk about what constitutes romance and what constitutes stalking."

As they stared at her with eyes wide with fear, Jericho said, "We don't have time for that. We've got to get out of here. But I think they'll see the difference once they read the scripts."

Vicki picked up her bat'leth, and lovingly stroked the honed edge. "But I was so looking forward to our 'discussion' of romance vs stalking."

Winking at her Klingon friend, Jericho said, "I think they got the point." She nodded to the dagger in the desk. "Why don't you go ahead and I'll meet you downstairs."

After glaring intently at the idiots in the doorway for several seconds, Vicki said, "If you're sure you don't need me?"

"I'll be fine," Jericho assured her. With a small smile she watched as Vicki strode purposefully out the door, the point of her bat'leth mere inches from the idiots' noses. Once she had left the room, she said, "Now let's get to work."

"Work?" the idiots asked in unison.

"Actually, the work is done," Jericho smiled. "The scripts are on the table. Use them."

"Well . . ." the male idiot began.

Jericho smiled. "You will use them." She paused for effect. "If you don't, I send her back to visit you. Unsupervised. I don't think you'd like that, would you?"

"No!" they exclaimed in unison. "Don't do that! We'll use the scripts."

Smile deepening, Jericho said, "I thought you'd see it our way."

Six months later, Another World had ousted Young and the Restless as the number one soap. All the soap critics were astounded by the fresh writing and storylines produced by someone who had been around as long as the current headwriter, who was also known for destroying soaps rather than saving them.

Vicki's phone rang. "Pack your bags. You're moving to New York?"

Having just woken up from a sound sleep, Vicki said, "Whaaat?"

"You're moving to New York," Jericho said. "We've been hired to be the new writers for Another World."

"Don't like New York," she muttered tiredly. "Too many weird people live there."

"Weird people?" Jericho asked in disbelief. "This coming from a woman who dresses like a Klingon?"

"You write. I'll watch. Works good for me."

"We need you," Jericho said. "The others have already agreed. You're the last one."

Vicki sighed. "Oh, all right. I'll give it a shot. I'll hate it, but I'll do it."

"Look at it this way," Jericho said, "you'll get to see Mike on a regular basis."

"I never thought of that," Vicki said brightly. "That just might be the best compensation of all. When did you need me?"

"Yesterday."

"My time machine is out of order right now," Vicki answered wryly, "but I'll get there as soon as I can."

And so it was that Another World was saved from cancellation and moved on to greater brilliance than ever before because of the devotion of a large group of fans willing to risk it all to Save Their World.