Author's Notes: I would like to disclaim several things--one, I realize there are some phrases that express an improper connotation, but while you may laugh I really did not mean any of them. Also, a certain smoocher in this story wishes to disclaim assure the readers that she is not so fast with kissing as all of this; very much less so than a certain drooling girl. :D

In any case, enjoy this! I would like to thank Lise for helping me here in this and also to the ladies involved who I hope do not mind being mentioned; also, thanks to the people who liked the graphic--it made me feel better. :)

Prologue:

Colonel Fitzwilliam sat at a table, starting at himself in the mirror. What have I done? he wondered.

The Colonel had challenged the women and was now getting ready for his toughest battle ever--a battle that would ask him to ignore his principals and actually attack a woman, among other offenses of etiquette alien to his gentlemanly nature.

Not that he was unprovoked. In his humble opinion, it would be more than a fair fight. He was fighting a league of women; women who had picked tussles with him earlier and had put him through ever so many trials—a league of beasts who had no compunction in torturing him. He must not think of this as a brawl of dirty revenge, but a righteous rebellion against cruel masters.

"Colonel!" Darcy cried, tapping his dreamy comrade on the shoulder. "Colonel, my cousin! you are ready, are you not? You are ready to rectify the inequities committed against us? You are ready to stand up for our rights?" Fitzwilliam Darcy spoke not only to their prizefighter but also to the crowd of Austen men around them, who began to cheer.

"I hope so," the Colonel said weakly. He wasn't quite sure about this. Sure, he had been forced time and time again to act contrary to his principals against his will, but he felt bad about hurting the women in this fashion. He believed that, in their odd way, they loved him . . .

Darcy scrutinized his cousin. "Do not think of that, Richard--they cannot love you . . . how they treat you! Think of that!" he quietly said. Then, he addressed the crowd again. "Our friend the Colonel is ready to champion our cause! After this, no longer will these ladies force us to act against our will! We will be our own masters, beholden to none!" The menfolk cheered, and Colonel Brandon walked up to Fitzwilliam and began to slap him soundly on the back.

"Ah, my fellow military man! I ask you to remember me in your fight!--Barbara has tried to turn my wife against me in her All Men Make Faults, and I deplore it! You must conquer, for all of us!"

Willoughby frowned. "I don't know if All Men Make Faults was too bad. After all, Marianne is finally showing some sense in coming to me . . ."

Colonel BigNose . . . ah, Brandon frowned. "Shut up, you pansy! You can't even quote Shakespeare correctly!" This began a little slapping/screeching match that Darcy put a stop to.

"Men, please! Remember . . . by no means would I suspend any pleasure of yours, but for Heaven's sake, have a little compassion on my poor nerves!"

Quickly, to divert the men, up stepped Mr. George Knightley who began to massage the Colonel's tense shoulders.

"Fitzwilliam, you must get in a blow for me as well! Think of CK--we both suffered by her Donwell Abbey Is Let At Last?! In that story not only was my home destroyed, my wife separated from me for a year, but the neighborhood was tormented, you were driven insane and coughing feathers for a week! We must not accept this fate!"

"Yeah!" the men cried.

Frank Churchill came up then. "Yes, that CK needs to learn to watch herself. What she suggested about me in that Donwell Abbey of hers . . . what malicious lies!"

Knightley could not resist saying with a chuckle, "That was one of the better parts in the story, I thought! It confirmed one suspicion I've had about you for years . . ." The whole audience stopped to think for a moment, then started scrutinizing Frank oddly, slightly backing up from him.

Tactfully, Mr. Elton stepped forward to bang the Colonel's shoulders.

"You have to get in a blow for me as well! We have chatted often at our special retreat in London--Business, which has been put under siege, by their guidance! You also must attack on my behalf--they married me to that Augusta!"

The Colonel frowned and turned to look at him. "You forget, it was Miss Austen that married you to her!"

Mr. E coughed. "Well . . . go get 'em anyway!" Mr. Elliot jumped up.

"While we're on the subject of wives, look at what happened to me! That Cassie M married me to my cousin, that Elizabeth Elliot in her story The Bet! You've been married several times over, also! Some Camille Darcy, Anne de Bourgh, Charlotte Lucas, Erin somebody-or-other . . . I believe there are more in there as well! We shouldn't have to suffer with this!"

"But you're the villain!" someone piped up from the background.

Mr. Elliot coughed and then whined, "My uncle is a Baronet!"

"Shut up, Elliot!" the entire crowd cried and he stepped back, when Darcy threw himself forward to prevent anyone else from ruining their angry but focused momentum with chatter.

The Colonel smiled weakly. "Is there anyone in particular you have a grudge against, Darcy?" Darcy's jaw clenched, for a moment but he forced himself to calm down.

"There are too many to mention, so I shall try not to name any . . ." He thought for a moment, however, and spoke again. "Except CK--she nearly married my wife off to you! And Xenia--what that Xenia puts me through daily is unimaginable! Peg has killed me off before, Lou has forced me to matchmaking, Cheryl K has sent my wife away from me, Annie and EllenM both tried to kill my wife, and . . ." Darcy was furiously ticking off names on his hand with no end in sight, so the Colonel quickly interrupted.

"I'll try and remember them all, but 'I should imagine not.'" The whole crowd laughed, and loosened up. The Colonel took the moment to give a confidential word to his cousin. "Darcy, I am almost ready--will you go out and tell the ladies I will be out in a moment? I just want a few moments alone . . ."

Darcy nodded, and cried to the crowd, "Hey! Let's go out!--'Hot Pants' is almost ready . . ." A rousing cry came out and they all burst out of the room. The Colonel's shoulders relaxed and his head dropped forward. He felt tired, and he regretted his impetuosity in challenging the women to a fight. It was not the gentlemanlike thing to do by any standard, and he felt bad striking back against any one. Still, he realized Darcy was like. He had grumbled silently for a long time, but when CK began writing Home Sweet Home? he realized that he could stand it no longer . . . he splashed a little water on his face and waited for the call to arms. Besides, he rationalized to himself, I cannot turn back now!

The ladies were also readying themselves for the battle. CK was practicing with a punching bag; Xenia was experimenting with throwing a knife about, nearly killing Cassie; Annie tried swinging a sword; Katt loosely held a shotgun in her hand, seeming puzzled and bewildered.

"I don't know what to do with this!" she cried, holding it far from herself like it was Mr. Collins in the flesh. "Are you all sure we couldn't have made a treaty with the Colonel? Surely we could have written a few nice, peaceful stories to appease him!"

Everyone stopped practicing and huddled together in a circle. CK, who seemed to be the motivated speaker for the evening, began talking.

"Katt, I know how you feel. It really does suck that we have to fight anyone, especially the Colonel . . . if there had been a true peaceful way to go about it, I believe none of us would be here right now. However, there is no way to stop this. The Colonel has threatened to go on strike, and if that happened, how many characters would adhere to our stories? The chaos and madness would reign, and our fiction would be no more . . ."

At this moment, Rachel came up. "CK is right . . . we all need to fight this!" She herself began to feel a little inspired after such a speech. "How many of you all enjoyed CK's Donwell Abbey Is Let At Last?--honestly, raise your hands." Without hesitation, everyone did so.

"See? But, however . . . how many of just us enjoyed being tormented in such a fashion?" No one piped up. "See-—we liked being tormented in a way-—we liked the excitement of reading along in the story without a clear end in sight, wondering what would happen next! We realize that we might have a few sleepless nights every now and then as we wait for the next part to come out, but so it is! For most pain there is a little bit of pleasure to go along with it! If we did not fight this, this principle would be destroyed completely! And as much as I love reading the delightful stories where Darcy and Lizzie are in courtship, *here she nodded to Ann2 and Kat* sometimes I want some Suffering Fools to go along with it."

"Besides," she continued, obviously just warming up, "who knows if one day the characters would stop altogether, and we would never have stories? This cannot, must not be!" Everyone began to cheer, and Rachel began to speak a little more dramatically. "We cannot allow this to happen! We create characters, and love, nurture them, until one day they turn their back on you and refuse to let you dream! They kill your creativity, because they don't like it! This must not be! This must not be!"

"Let's go out there with all we've got and win just one for the Gipper!" someone cried out, and although most people didn't seem to know who the Gipper was, they all cheered and rushed out into the ring. Unheeded, Katt mumbled, "I have a bad feeling about this . . ."

There was much chatter, laughter and talk before the fight. Everyone was placing bets and talking about the recent tirades of the characters and the recent stories of the writers. After a while, a man (gentleman would not be the right word in this case) trudged up onto the platform. "Testing, 1 . . . 2 . . . 3 . . ." he called out. Then, taking a deep breath, he screamed, "LET'S GET READY TO RRRUUUMMMBBBLLLEEE!!" Everyone stopped talking and began to scream in response.

"Do you want to see a fight?" the man asked.

"Yeah!" screamed the audience.

"Do you want to see a dirty fight?"

"Yeah!"

The voice began to take on an unidentified, but somewhat cockney sound, which made the odd accent even more comical. "Do you want to see an apocalyptical battle, with desolation 'n' murder, 'n' killin's galore; a bloody battle with corpses strewn all over the floor, all the horrors of war and mutilation; the bloody carnage all strewn about, right at your fingertips?"

The audience hesitated for a moment. They were extremely puzzled--surely the ladies wouldn't hurt the Colonel that badly! "Uh . . . yeah!" the crowd cried.

Without blinking, the man said, "Then you want to go to the fight next door!" Everyone began to laugh.

Suddenly, a voice from the back cried out, "The revelers are entering!" and sure enough, after the little musical interlude (with several drums) in jogged the six women who had volunteered (or been picked, or even forced into it by hot irons) to fight the Colonel. Because on the whole they were peaceful people, none of them happened to have any weapons in their houses, except their dull kitchen knives. So, they had divvied up the weapons from Annie's game of Clue-—Katt still had the revolver that she grasped gingerly in her hands, CK held the candlestick. Xenia clutched the knife, Cassie had the wrench, and Annie was left with the lead pipe as Rachel had insisted on having the rope. No one quite understood why she had done so, but they all had their suspicions . . .

At any rate, everyone cheered them as they pumped their fists and curtsied to the crowd, showing their enthusiasm and energy. On a bit of an adrenaline high, Rachel flashed the thumbs-up to the crowd as Katt did her Nixon imitation, borrowing his Vs for Victory with vigor. The crowd ate it up.

Soon, the crowd parted on the other side of the auditorium and in walked the men of Jane Austen. The girls stood in a line facing the men, staring at them . . . in person. Understandably, they were dumbfounded.

"Oh my . . ." they all happened to think to themselves. "It's THEM!" Their minds were all filled with high-pitched screams that they nobly tried to suppress, and exclamation marks galore.

However, the men were less than impressed with the ladies. Their brows furrowed in unison, which only dazzled the women all the more. Frankly, the men had expected something else—something more along the lines of evil she-devils who exposed their own twisted fantasies to the world and used them for their own malevolent purposes. Something much more imposing then these normal, everyday women who stood in front of them.

Darcy discreetly coughed, and the women finally managed to shake themselves from their daze. Suddenly, up came Xenia.

"Hello, Mr. Darcy," she said. "It's quite a pleasure to meet you. Allow me to introduce myself—my name is Xenia . . ."

He gave her a cold stare, and bowed with the frigid grace of a statue. Xenia stepped back hesitantly, and Rachel snorted. "What a doofus!" she whispered comfortingly to Xenia, oblivious to Darcy standing right in front of her. He glared angrily, and she had the grace to blush.

CK finally worked up the nerve to step forward . . . she could not resist the chance to talk to Knightley. "Mr. Knightley!" she cried. "Sir, I have always been a great fan of yours and I have always wished to marry you and everything! You have always been so charming; could I have your autograph?" From out of nowhere she produced pen and paper.

Knightley was greatly flattered—no one ever seemed to notice him when they were around Darcy. He gave a gracious smile, and took the paper. "Certainly! Who shall I make this out to?"

"Cindy . . ." she said. He began to sign it, and a slight frown grew on his face. Something seemed familiar about the name, but he could not place it. "You are a writer, yes? What have you written?"

She babbled on dreamily. "Oh, Fortunes Reversed, Past Prejudices Proven, Donwell Abbey Is Let At Last?" Knightley froze, then quickly handed her the sheet.

"I am familiar with that last work of yours-—very . . . interesting," he said.

"Did you enjoy it?" she asked, and all of his restraint fell away.

"It was badly done, CK! Badly done indeed!" She quickly retreated, the paper falling out of her hand as she nearly began to cry.

Before anything else could happen, the crowd began to cry for blood.

"We want blood!" they cried. Because it was such a large crowd, filled with the more sotted soldiers in the Colonel's regiment, the love-struck fans of the women and the rather embarrassed boyfriends/dear hubbies of the women involved; this crowd was such to make the steadfast Bingley a bit nervous and Darcy sent for the Colonel to come out.

After a few minutes, the band struck up Donna Summer's classic "Hot Stuff" and the crowd hushed. After a while, a not handsome man dressed in a red uniform with a rather red face from a blush timidly walked out into the arena, and the crowd burst out into a truly deafening cheer heard several miles away.

He quickly climed into the ring, and when he opened his mouth to speak, the crowd quickly silenced itself.

He bowed. "Ladies; I believe we have never met before. My name is . . ."

"Colonel Fitzwilliam!" the women gasped together, and immediately proceeded to throw themselves at his feet.

With a slightly nervous twitch, the Colonel began to back up as Darcy quickly said, rolling his eyes, "Oh, puh-leez!"

Their dignity resumed, they obediently rose to cast very covetous sheep's-eyes on the object of their affection. Cassie began to wriggle her eyebrows as CK gave him a come-hither look while Xenia licked her lips. Rachel could only drool uncontrollably. The Colonel sighed.

"Do you still refuse me?"

Katt, the sanest person left in the group, followed this up with a question of her own. "Do you still refuse us?"

Simply, he spoke. "Yes."

Katt sighed. "Then we must fight."

The Colonel nodded his head in acknowledgement and after several prods of the elbows, the bystanders in the ring withdrew, leaving the Colonel, the women, and the large bald man (who both amused and confused the audience with his looks and clothing) on the stage alone.

"Now, you crazy kids, there are no rules except that nobody here is going to get killed. Also, there will be no drooling on the Colonel. Also, no one is allowed to carry the Colonel off—-" Here the announcer gave Rachel a very pointed look. She began to speak, but she was interrupted.

"Also, there will be no pinching the Colonel's bum-—he is still very sore from the last time he was attacked in that area!" With a wink, he cried out, "1 . . . 2 . . . 3 o'clock, 4 o'clock rock . . . ready, steady, Tom Petty, GO!" As the man jumped back, he hit his head on the bell. BING! BING! BING!-—these quick sounds started the fight.

For a moment, they stood, not knowing what to do. Then the Colonel whipped out his sword from its sheath and bowed to the ladies, allowing them to make the first move.

Boldly, up stepped Xenia. She first tried to throw the knife at him, but since she held it more as if to stab him, it fell to the floor and nearly nipped her toes!

"Ouwch!" she screamed, and quickly jumped back from the blade. The Colonel began to snicker.

"Hey!" she cried and tried again to throw it at him. It managed to take flight and hit the bell, bending upon itself and breaking. The Colonel impressively swung his sword around her harmlessly, but still forcing Xenia to back up. To help her escape, in a panic, Katt shot up into the air.

Immediately, the Colonel fell to the group and began to roll, knocking Xenia over. There were in a heap, Xenia on top of the Colonel. Realizing the situation, the women began to run over. The Colonel screamed, and used his strength to shove the determined woman off himself, and he rose.

He ran off in the opposite direction, still carrying the knife. "Freeze, Stud!" Katt screamed, aiming the gun at him. He slowly turned around, and impetuously stuck his tongue out at her, slowly creeping to the side of the ring. Katt tried to fire a warning shot, but the gun no longer had any bullets—she simply chucked it at him. However, Xenia had begun to sneak up behind the Colonel, and she took the full force of the weapon to her head. She gave a little moan, and fell to the floor.

Katt began to warily back up when Annie began to run with an Amazonian cry forward toward the Colonel. Katt turned just in time to see Annie about ˝ of an inch away. After banging into each other, they both tumbled to the ground.

However, the Colonel had not the time to note such happenings, for he felt a hand on his shoulder. He whipped about and saw Cassie with her hand on his sword. "Stop that!" he cried as they both tugged on the weapon.

Cassie, looking over his left shoulder, suddenly cried out, "Look! It's a bird, it's a plane, it's Superman!"

Confused, the Colonel turned about. "What? Where?" he cried, and Cassie had the blade.

"Ha ha ha!" she laughed, and tossed the hard-earned weapon outside the ring.

He then whipped out a small metal object. "Ha ha ha!" he crowed.

"What is it?" she asked.

"It's a pen nib," he responded quietly. He then looked into her eyes, and smiled an innocently seductive smile. "Would you like to play Sleeping Beauty with me, dearest Cassie?"

"Would I? Anything for you, Hot Pants!" she cried, and touched the nib. Katt saw, and screamed.

"He's using our weapons against us!" After Cassie dropped to the ground, the Colonel quickly made his way to Katt, a beseeching smile on his face. Katt backed up into the rope.

"NOT THE NIB!" she screamed. "NOT THE NIB!"

"OK—-" he said, and whipped out a bare bodkin. "That better?" he asked, and she nodded. After a moment, she screamed again.

"NOT A KNIFE! NOT A KNIFE!"

He sighed. "Look, Katt, that's all the weapons I have! If you don't like it, then you can bugger off!"

She thought for a moment, then said, "OK then. Good luck!" and with that, she left the ring.

CK raised her candlestick dangerously, and started toward the Colonel. He sighed, and raised his hands. CK froze. "Look, girls," he said. "I'm bushed-—can we call a time out for a moment?"

CK, still frozen, mumbled something that sounded a lot like "Sure!" and so the Colonel went over to his corner, where he sat down. He took a deep breath before making use of the hot towel and glass of brandy at his side. After a few moments, he went back to his place near the still-frozen CK, and called out, "OK-—time in!"

At this point, CK dropped to the ground, finally unfrozen. "I'm bushed! Hold on, Rachel, I'll help you in a minute!"

"OK, CK!" Rachel called out with a giggle, then began to try to climb onto the ropes. The Colonel was confused as he stood about five feet away.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm trying to climb up here, and I would greatly appreciate it if you could help me up."

The Colonel shrugged. "Sure." He obligingly went over and helped her get up, being the chivalrous man he was.

"Now, move about a foot over there . . . yes, that's it," she called out before taking a flying leap onto the Colonel.

"Augh!" he cried, and managed to shove her off himself. However, she grasped his leg, and would not let go.

"Leave me be!" he called out, trying to hit her off as gently as possible. But she would not let go-—leaches had nothing on that girl.

"I love you, my Fitziepie!" she called out, grunting as he dragged her along. He was trying to walk her off, so to speak, still batting her with his gloves.

"Hold on, Rachel! Yeah!" CK cheered, then managed to rise up. She began to hit the Colonel on the hand that was trying to hit Rachel. "Leave her be!" she called out, and the Colonel took hold of the candlestick. They were in the middle of a tugging match with the weapon when suddenly Rachel let go of his leg and backed up. By the time CK had control over her candlestick, Rachel was swinging a lasso.

"Move, CK! I'll get him!" And bravely, she threw it. It was then that the Colonel decided that he had had enough, and he rushed out of the stadium.

Rachel gave CK a look. "Let's get him!"

"Yeah!" CK answered, and they rushed out of the arena, wielding lasso and candlestick.

After they left, the audience decided enough was enough and left. As far as anyone knows, the girls are still chasing the Colonel. A few weeks after the match, they sent Lise a postcard from Deal, where they reported the intention of heading off to Italy where they would check the numerous monasteries for the Stud Muffin.

At the same time, however, the Colonel was the sneaky Lise's roommate. This was a happy situation, as the Colonel found himself able to be useful. His heroic and noble abilities were perfectly matched by her shy retinence, and he was of good use in driving away several unpleasant stalker-type slimeballs, and was very handy in fixing her bike. He became so good that he grew quite famous for his good deeds and ability with a screwdriver. CK and Rachel happened to hear of this famous man who called "Colonel", and they immediately set off for the Netherlands. When they arrived at Lise's apartment, they discovered the Colonel and their friend in a friendly liplock. Inscenced, Rachel pulled out her gun and began to shoot wildly. The Colonel quickly jumped out the window and the chase continued.

Every now and then, Lise still gets a postcard from both the girls and the Colonel, detailing their adventures through the Orient, Austrailia, and currently, the Artic. Both parties involved being clever, it is yet to be determined whether his cunning or theirs will win the day.

The day after the match, the local Piggly Wiggly made a killing on their aspirin, which the other four ladies were only too happy to buy to Aleve themselves of their headaches. Darcy and the men decided that since the ladies had proven their valor in the match, they would settle down and just be grateful none of them were the Stud Muffin.

Finis