It was impossible. So many bills and no way to pay them.

"Oh, what're we gonna do?" the colorfully dressed young woman said in despair, wringing her hands. "If we can't come up with the dinars soon, we'll lose everything!"

"Yes, yes, dear; I know." Widow Twanky patted the girl's shoulder comfortingly. "We'll think of something. I'm sure of it."

Only she really wasn't. She'd never been in such a desperate situation before. She was quite adept at handling the financial matters associated with her dancers, but sometimes things happened and there was nothing to be done about it. Events weren't always within one person's control. But she wasn't going to give up.

"Run along now and get ready for rehearsal," she instructed the still-distraught young woman. "Times may be bad but the show must *always* go on!"

"Yes, ma'am." The girl bobbed a brief curtsy and hurried away.

Once alone, Widow Twanky dropped her facade of self-assuredness and began pacing the length of the room. She'd done everything she could think of to boost profits but nothing had worked, they were barely affording the basic necessities with what they were making now.

First she'd lost Cupcake, then her two best dancers, sisters, had left due to family obligations, and now more than half of what was left of the dancing troupe was down with the flu. There were only two girls left well enough to go on and that wasn't nearly enough to draw the crowd they needed.

Times were indeed, rough, but Widow Twanky refused to relinquish hope. She was always optimistic even in the worst circumstances.

She'd been holding auditions for new dancers but so far nothing promising had shown up. Good talent was just so difficult to come by these days.

Well, she still had the evening's show to see to. Now that they were so short handed, Widow Twanky was routinely going on stage herself, so she had to rehearse the numbers with the two other dancers.

Offering up a quick prayer to the appropriate gods and muses, she straightened her dress, checking her hair to make sure she looked proper, and started towards the door, prepared for at least an hour of hard practice before they had to get ready for the evening's performance.

"Wait." The command was accompanied by a small flash of light.

Startled, Widow Twanky nevertheless refused to show it, instead stopping and looking at her visitor expectantly.

"Yes? May I help you?" she asked calmly.

The lovely young woman, dressed in brightly colored silks and, what was in Widow Twanky's opinion, a bit too much jewelry, smiled benevolently before replying, "I am Terpsichore, and I've decided to answer your prayer."

*******

"You know, Herc, sometimes you're no fun at all. It wasn't like I was doing anything wrong!"

"She was married, Iolaus," Hercules said with an overly-patient sigh as they walked on the side of the road.

"I know that! I wasn't trying to start anything. We were just talking!"

"You had your hand down her bodice!" he pointed out.

"She dropped something; I was helping her find it!"

Shaking his head in defeat, Hercules couldn't quite manage to keep the smile off of his face. Iolaus was hopeless, but that was part of his charm. "Could you at least *try* to stay out of trouble in the next town?" he pleaded, although the fact that he was obviously trying not to laugh didn't make it too convincing.

"Sure, Herc," Iolaus promised with more than a touch of sarcasm.

"You're impossible!" Now he was laughing.

"Thank you." Iolaus grinned at him.

They were both laughing when the man on horseback galloped past them -- and suddenly reined up sharply, almost making the horse rear back.

"Are you Hercules?" the man, really little more than a boy, asked.

"Yes," Hercules replied curiously.

"Then you're Iolaus," the young man stated.

Iolaus nodded, eyebrows going up in surprise. It wasn't all that often that someone recognized him. "This, uh, doesn't have anything to do with the lady back in that town, does it?" he asked suspiciously. "'Cause it was all a misunderstanding!"

"I don't know about that," the boy replied with a shake of his head. "My sister just sent me to find you two and give you this." He held out a scroll.

Stepping forward, Hercules took the scroll and unrolled it.

"Who's your sister?" Iolaus asked as his friend read the message.

"Dena," the young man replied. "She's been with the dance troupe for almost two years." He sounded proud.

"Dance troupe?"

"Widow Twanky," Hercules said, handing the scroll over to his partner. "Remember, I told you about her?"

"Oh, yeah!" Iolaus grinned. He still wished he could've been there to see his friend in a dance contest. Quickly reading through the scroll he found that he wasn't much better off than he'd been a few seconds before. He still didn't know what was going on.

"It says that she needs our help, but not why or what for," he said, looking at the boy on the horse for an explanation.

The young man just shrugged. "All I know is that she needs you there as soon as possible. You can take my horse if you want," he offered.

"No, that's all right," Hercules automatically refused. "It won't take long to get there. Maybe a day or less."

"That's great! I'll go back and tell her you're on your way." The boy turned his horse around and galloped back off in the direction he'd come.

"What d'you think, Herc?" Iolaus asked as they watched the figure disappear into the distance.

"I don't know, but we aren't going to find out standing around here. Let's go."

They set off back in the direction they'd come.

"We're going to have to go around that town, you know," Hercules said. "Although, if we're lucky the lynch mob already broke up."

"You're not gonna let it drop, are you?"

"Nope," Hercules replied with a grin.

Iolaus just rolled his eyes.

-------

It wasn't going to be easy, but it would definitely be worth it.

Autolycus watched the change of the guards, making note of exactly how long it took and where the opportunities lay for him to slip past. The palace wasn't that heavily guarded on the outside, but the inside would no doubt be a different matter. The fortune in diamonds, pearls, and gold that the king kept in there was more than enough to make Autolycus willing to risk all sorts of danger though. Besides, it was a challenge and he never could resist one of those.

He'd seen enough. He'd been casing the place for a couple days now, planning everything, coming up with alternate plans in case of an emergency. He was ready for this. He decided to go for it tomorrow night. For the moment, however, he could relax.

He still had to double-check his gear but first he wanted a nice meal and someplace comfy to sleep in. Moving out of his hiding place behind a cart, he walked off into the mostly-empty street in search of another inn. The one he'd been staying in wasn't as luxurious as he liked. He wasn't lazy, he just really liked comfort.

"Autolycus?"

Instantly on guard, he turned around to confront whoever had recognized him. The fact that it was a gorgeous young woman didn't make him any less suspicious.

"Have we met?" he asked.

"Sure! Oh, you were calling yourself Autolyca then, but you worked with me and the other girls, remember?"

Remember? He'd been doing his damnedest to forget!

"I'm Candy," she introduced herself.

Now he recalled her. The brunette with those incredibly big -- well, he'd always wondered how she'd managed not to tip over while she danced.

"Yeah, I remember," he nodded. "So what're you doing here? Did you leave Widow Twanky's troupe?"

He kind of hoped she had. Maybe now they'd have a chance to "get to know" each other better.

"Oh, no!" she answered vehemently, putting an end to his hopes. "She just wanted me to give you a message." She held out a scroll which he took. "I'm supposed to wait and make sure you say 'yes,'" she said, clasping her hands in front of her.

Opening the scroll, Autolycus scanned through it. "Why does she need *my* help?" he asked when he'd finished.

"I dunno. She didn't say anything about that. So, are you coming?"

"Maybe after I'm finished up here."

"But she wants you there as soon as possible!" the young woman protested.

"She'll have to wait. I'm busy here."

"Well, I was hoping I wouldn't have to do this, but I guess I've got to," Candy sighed in disappointment.

"What?" He had a bad feeling about this.

"She said if you were difficult about it I should start screaming, and then tell everyone that you robbed me." She took a deep breath.

"Wait!" Autolycus lept forward and clamped a hand over her mouth, looking around to make sure that they were still relatively alone. "All right!" he hissed in annoyance. "If you promise to keep your mouth shut then I'll go with you!" He reasoned that he could always come back for the treasure, but if Candy started making a scene and throwing accusations then security would be doubled and getting into the palace would become extremely difficult if not impossible.

The young woman nodded. Taking that as a sign that she wouldn't start screaming, Autolycus released her.

"Let's go!" she said brightly.

"Fine," he grumbled, thinking that this had *better* be good.

-------

They'd left him again.

He was getting really tired of waking up in the mornings and finding that they'd crept away before dawn, or them sending him on some pointless errand so they could sneak away. The least they could do was tell him to his face that they didn't want him around.

In the past Joxer had always gone after them, this time he decided not to. If Xena and Gabrielle wanted to get rid of him so badly then he wouldn't bother them anymore. Oh, he knew he'd eventually go after them again when he grew too lonely, but for the moment he'd just leave them alone. He was sure there was something hero-like he could be doing somewhere and he didn't need them to do it.

The two women had headed North on the pretense of scouting the area ahead. Of course they'd keep on traveling in the hope that Joxer wouldn't follow them or would get lost trying. This time they'd get their wish. He decided to take the opposite direction.

He was sure there was a city not far from where he was. There had to be someone there who needed Joxer the Mighty's services. If not then maybe he could find work. He was definitely in need of some dinars.

After only a few minutes of walking he came upon an unusual sight: a pretty young woman standing at the side of the road, dressed in some of the most brightly colored clothes he'd ever seen and blowing her nose on a handkerchief.

"Are you okay?" Joxer asked, wondering if she was crying or in trouble, or both.

The woman nodded, sniffing and wiping her nose. "I'm waibing for subone," she said.

"Um, are you sick?" the young man guessed.

Again she nodded, looking decidedly miserable.

"Then you shouldn't be traveling. Is there somewhere I can take you or something?" he automatically offered. Traveling with Xena and Gabrielle had taught him to be something of a gentleman.

"I dunno, are you Joxer?"

"Yeah!" he said in surprise. "Do I know you?"

"No, but I'm subosed to find you and tell you we need your helb."

A damsel in distress already! He couldn't believe his luck. "Really?" he asked brightly. "Wow -- I mean, of course! Joxer the Mighty is always ready to help!"

"That's wonderbul!" the young woman said happily, then she sneezed and blew her nose again.

"Who exactly is 'we'?" Joxer asked, realizing that he didn't really know what he'd just agreed to.

"Widow Twanky," she answered, overpronunciating the name to get it right. "She didn't say why, just that I'm subosed to find you here and bring you wib me."

"Well, whatever it is, I'll be glad to help," the young man agreed enthusiastically. "You really don't look so good. You need some help walking or anything?"

"I'll be okay," she replied, shaking her head. "It's nob real far."

"Then let's go. You need to be in bed."

Joxer kept an eye on the young woman as they set off down the road towards the city he'd been heading towards to begin with. She really did look pretty sick. He hoped it wasn't catching.

"So, um...," he searched for some topic of conversation, thinking that maybe talking might keep her mind off of how she felt. Then he came up with something he really wanted to know, "Who's Widow Twanky?"

-------

It was so simple. He didn't know why he hadn't thought of it before. All he had to do was find out where the stuff was being shipped from. He could go directly to the source then. Ever since he'd tried that new drink he'd been absolutely certain there was a way he could make a profit from it somehow. These little coffee places were popping up all over Greece and Salmoneus just couldn't sit by and watch it happen without trying to get in on it.

So he needed to figure out where it was coming from and then he'd know if he could make some sort of deal. He knew a couple pirates who would smuggle things in at cut prices, maybe he could interest the coffee sellers in something like that. Or maybe he could open up his own place instead. There was already competition out there, but he knew he could come up with something to make his place stand out from all the rest.

"Have to start with the name," he muttered to himself thoughtfully. "If it's catchy, the customers'll be drawn right in. Maybe 'Coffers Of Coffee' or 'Java Jitters'. No, that's not it either." He drummed his fingers on the table in front of him, thinking hard. Then, suddenly, it came to him, the idea bursting upon him like the sun over the horizon. "Constellation Dinars!" he said with a grin. "Perfect!" It sounded just classy enough without being totally pretentious. Now all he needed to do was secure a source.

First he'd have to find the port where it was being brought in, which meant a trip down to Southern Greece. He at least knew that the stuff was coming into the country from down there. It might take a week or so to get there but if he was right about this -- and he was pretty certain that he was -- then it would be worth the trip.

So he'd have to find someone to travel with. There was no way he was going alone or on foot. If he was lucky he wouldn't run into any of the hero types during the journey. He didn't understand what they all had against him trying to make a living. So what if he cut corners a bit here and there? Everyone else did it and really, he was a lot more honest than most.

Downing the last of the coffee in his mug, he tossed a dinar on the table and left the shop. He really wished there were a way to transport the stuff with him. He was starting to find mornings unbearable without it.

"Salmonella!"

He winced, both at the squeaking tone of the voice and at the name.

"I've been looking all over for you!"

He wished there was some way he could hide or run or something, but it was too late, the petite little redhead was already throwing her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly.

"It's *Salmoneus*," he corrected, prying her off of him.

"Whatever. Do you remember me?"

"Sure, you're, um, with Widow Twanky's dancing troupe." He searched for her name and couldn't find it. He'd really been a bit more worried about saving his life at the time, not memorizing names.

"Yep," she said with a giggle. "I'm Tina. Remember, you and Autolyca went on for me and Dena when we got food poisoning?"

"Autolycus," he automatically corrected, repressing a shudder at the memories. All that thief ever did was get him in trouble.

"Sure. Listen; Widow Twanky really needs your help and she wants you to come right away."

There was something he didn't need to hear. "I'm sorry, really, but I'm in the middle of an important business deal," he said, starting to back away.

"But you've gotta come!" she protested, her cheerful mood turning abruptly desperate.

"This sounds more like something Hercules should handle. Tell you what, I'll go find him for you." He put on his best "trust me" smile.

"He's already coming, but we need you too."

That stopped him. "You need Hercules *and* me? You mean, there's something he can't do by himself? You need me to help him?" That sounded impossible, but it definitely appealed to his ego.

Tina nodded. "Widow Twanky said to say that there could be something in it for you too."

Those were the right words. "Please, tell me more," he said encouragingly, smiling a bit wider.

"Um, I don't know anything much, just that it's really important that you come with me," the young woman replied.

Salmoneus thought that over. The chance to help Hercules and make a profit at the same time? He couldn't pass it up.

"Okay," he agreed, "but let's get one thing straight; I'm not wearing a dress again!"

*******

"I'm *so* glad you gentlemen could all make it! And on such short notice too!"

"Like I had a choice?"

"Quit complaining!" Iolaus said quietly to the man seated a little to his left which earned him a glare.

"I'm outta here the first chance I get!" Autolycus muttered, slumping down in his chair.

"What do you need our help for?" Hercules asked from his seat to Iolaus' right.

"And why do we need *him*?" Salmoneus put in with obvious distaste, motioning to Autolycus over to his right.

"Well she obviously wanted someone good-looking and talented," Autolycus replied with a touch of sarcasm, "but that doesn't explain why *you're* here."

"C'mon guys," Joxer spoke up before Salmoneus could retort, "can't we try to get along?" He shrank a bit under the dirty looks he received from the two men seated to his right.

A sharp clap of hands drew their attention back to the woman standing in front of them.

"That's enough of that!" Widow Twanky said firmly. "I'll have no bickering while you're all working for me."

"Working for you?" Iolaus raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, well," she cleared her throat a bit, looking over the five men on the stage before her, sitting there wondering just what they'd gotten into. "I suppose I should explain," she began. "Things have been...difficult lately. Most of my girls are sick -- the poor things -- and our show has suffered in the worst way. We aren't making enough money to pay the bills."

"Wait a minute," Salmoneus spoke up before she could continue. "Tina said something about there being a chance for some money here?"

"It's possible," Widow Twanky conceded.

"Why didn't you mention money before?" Autolycus asked with a smile. "I would've been a lot happier to be here."

"We'll be glad to help *regardless* of whether or not there's any profit involved," Hercules cut in, giving the two men a meaningful look.

"Speak for yourself," Autolycus grumbled.

Salmoneus nodded, then realizing who he was agreeing with, quickly changed his opinion. "Uh, what Herc said," he corrected himself.

"Thank you." Widow Twanky smiled at them. "Now, I didn't know what to do about our situation here, but suddenly my prayers were answered."

"Uh-oh," Iolaus said under his breath.

"By who?" asked Hercules.

"Terpsichore, of course. The Muse of dance."

"She okay?" Iolaus asked his partner.

Hercules nodded. "The Muses are better than most of the other gods. This sounds all right, so far."

A muffled crash from somewhere outside of the building distracted them briefly, but when Widow Twanky began speaking again, the men all gave her their attention.

"Terpsichore advised me on what I needed to do to save my theater. It's completely different than anything I've done before and under normal circumstances I wouldn't even consider it, but one does what one must."

There was the sound of something shattering and muffled yelling.

"Um, what exactly did she tell you to do?" Hercules asked, glancing briefly towards the theater entrance with a frown.

"She said I should create a new act -- temporarily of course -- with men, six of you. She assured me that this will draw the crowds we need to pay the bills."

The yelling was drawing closer, the sounds of things breaking growing more frequent.

"There's only five of us here," Joxer pointed out the obvious.

"Yes," Widow Twanky agreed, "but the goddess promised that she'd send the sixth later. I would imagine that that's him now. She said there might be a problem."

Another, exceptionally loud crash.

"Oh, dear," she said worriedly. "I hope that wasn't my vase."

Suddenly the doors at the front of the theater were literally kicked open, admitting an imposing man clad entirely in black leather.

"Ares!" Hercules said accusingly, rising to his feet. The other men quickly followed, staring in fear and apprehension.

"Oh my!" Widow Twanky exclaimed. "I wasn't expecting someone quite so...big." She fanned herself a bit.

The God of War smirked. "Don't get your hopes up. I owed Terpsy a favor but there's no way you're getting me in *this*. I brought you another victim."

He started to walk into the room, dragging something behind him, then stopped abruptly. "Let go of the door!" he ordered.

"No fucking way!" the reply was shouted, followed by a string of inventive curses.

"Oh, no," Iolaus groaned.

Ares pulled hard at what looked to be a leg. "Let go before I break your ankle!" he snarled.

The only reply he received was more cursing.

Pulling even harder, the God of War suddenly went stumbling back as the other god's grip slipped from the door.

"Let me go! I'm not doing this!" the god was yelling, trying to get away despite the tight grip on his ankle.

"Shut up, you sniveling little worm! You're doing this 'cause I *say* you are!" Ares snapped, then turned and walked towards the stage, dragging the other man behind him.

A horrible screeching sound resounded in the room, making everyone clamp their hands over their ears. Even Ares winced. "Get your nails out of the floor!" he finally ordered, but the noise continued until they reached the stage.

Ares stopped, glancing down at the god trying desperately to claw his way out of his grip. "Unfortunately, this is my nephew, Strife. He's yours for the next couple weeks," he said as he bent down and grabbed the other god by the back of the neck, hauling him up. "His powers have been temporarily stripped but he's still immortal and he's still a pain in the ass!"

"That's enough of that type of language!" Widow Twanky ordered sharply, drawing a surprised look from the God of War. "I won't hear that in my theater!"

"Yeah, whatever," Ares snorted. "Believe it or not he's been trained as a dancer, but good luck getting him to use it. Anyway, he's your problem now." He tossed the struggling god onto the stage.

Obviously shaken, Strife sat up and looked around. His gaze settled on Hercules and his eyes widened.

"Fuck, no!" he shouted, trying to get to his feet and run at the same time.

"I warned you about that language, young man!" Widow Twanky said sternly, stepping forward and grabbing hold of Strife's ear.

"Ouch! Hey! Let go you bit--oww!" he yelped as she twisted his ear, dropping him to his knees.

"Now this is how you keep control of troublemakers," she said calmly to Ares who was watching with an expression of disbelief.

"C'mon, Unc, get me outta here!" Strife whined. That snapped Ares out of it.

"You're here until she's done with you," he ordered, his tone stern. "You don't get your powers back until then."

"I don't care! I'll take just being immortal; it's better than this!"

"If you *ever* want to set foot in my temples again then you'll do as you're told!" Ares snapped.

Strife seemed to wilt a little under his uncle's angry gaze.

"That's better," Ares said when there was no further protests.

"Will you be coming to see him?" Widow Twanky asked pleasantly.

"Oh yeah," Ares replied with a wicked grin, looking at the five other men on the stage. "No way am I gonna miss Jercules, goldilocks and the four stoodges here doing *this*! Now, I've got a war to start. See you in a while." He smirked at his nephew before disappearing in a flash of blue light.

"Well, now that we're all here," Widow Twanky began as though nothing out of the ordinary had just occurred, "what to do with you." She looked down at the God of Mischief, his ear still firmly within her grasp.

"Those clothes simply won't do," she said. "And those earrings! We can't have that. It doesn't look right. Not to mention this hair! We'll simply have to do a complete make-over."

Strife looked helplessly at the men seated before him. They just stared at him, although Joxer's gaze at least held a touch of sympathy.

"All of you are going to need some help," the Widow said to them. "I'll have the girls give you the proper clothing -- leather really doesn't do anything as a fashion statement, you know."

"'Cept on Ares," Strife muttered.

"That's enough out of you," she twisted his ear, making him yelp again.

"I'm afraid we don't have enough space to give you rooms of your own so you'll all have to double up," she said apologetically. "You should freshen up a bit before we go over the particulars here so I'll show you to the rooms."

"I'll share with Herc here," Iolaus said. "I'm used to listening to him snore."

"I don't snore," Hercules protested.

"Yeah, right," Iolaus snorted.

"Um, I'll share with Strife," Joxer said hesitantly, looking to see if the god -- or rather, temporarily former god -- would object. Strife didn't say a word.

"I'm not staying with *him*!" Autolycus pointed at Salmoneus.

"You think I wanna be anywhere near *you*?" Salmoneus asked in an insulted tone.

"You boys will have to share the room so learn to get along," Widow Twanky said, her tone leaving no room for argument. "Now come along."

She yanked Strife to his feet, maintaining the grip on his ear despite the fact that he was much taller than her. The other men followed her as she walked back behind the stage, pulling the powerless god along with her.

-------

When they met again on the stage about a half of an hour later, they'd all changed into the clothes that had been provided. Shirts and pants made out of everything except leather, and certainly more colorful than what most of them were used to wearing -- except for Salmoneus of course. He looked perfectly comfortable in his outfit of bright red and peach linen. The rest of them sat there in varying stages of disbelief.

Looking up from his horrified contemplation of the pink trousers he wore, Hercules glanced around with a worried frown. "Where's Strife?" he asked. The last thing they needed was his psychotic nephew wandering around on his own.

"I dunno," Joxer replied with a shrug that made the multi colored tassels on his shirt dance. "Widow Twanky took him with her. Something about making some improvements?"

"Didn't realize she had a year or two to spare," mumbled Iolaus, picking at the gold fringe on his lime green vest.

Autolycus just sat there, a dazed look on his face. "Orange," he said quietly.

"Huh?" Salmoneus glanced over at him, then at the robe the thief wore. "Oh, yeah. Guess it is, isn't it?"

Autolycus blinked. "Orange."

"Um, yeah...orange," Salmoneus agreed placatingly, then tried to discreetly slide his chair away from the other man.

Sharp coughing, bordering on gagging from backstage quickly drew everyone's attention away from their current fashion problems. Moments later Widow Twanky appeared, dragging the man responsible for the noise behind her by his ear.

"S--Soap?!" he croaked out in disgust and disbelief.

"It's your own fault," she said to him primly. "I warned you what would happen if you didn't learn to control that foul mouth."

"You're--" He yanked out of her grip, coughing harshly. "Crazy! You're crazy!" He stood up straight, glaring at the other men as he wiped off his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Strife?" Iolaus queried faintly, eyebrows going towards his hairline. An expression of shock shared with Hercules and Salmoneous. Joxer just smiled and Autolycus just sat there. A soft, "Orange," could be heard in the ensuing silence.

"Now isn't that better?" The Widow Twanky looked at her latest masterpiece with pride.

The purple, gauzy pants and vest were accented nicely by the single gold hoop earring in his left ear. It really brought out what was a rather surprising, and nice, tan. But the true shock was in the damp blond hair that lay flat against his head.

Strife continued to glare, fists clenched, silently daring anyone to comment.

Hercules wasn't intimidated. "You dyed his hair?" he asked incredulously.

That got a snort from Iolaus. "Oh, please, Herc. You know Strife's a natural blond."

"I do?"

"What, you didn't know?" Iolaus frowned at his friend.

"No. How did you?"

"The Academy, when we first met him," he said it like it should have been obvious.

"Yes, Iolaus, I remember that," Hercules replied patiently. "But he always had black hair."

Iolaus' frown deepened. "Um, Herc, whenever you went to the baths with the other guys in school, what did you do?"

"Bathed, why?" Hercules shrugged.

Now Iolaus' eyebrows went back up. "Right. Okay, Herc, you've had a very deprived life and we're going to correct that soon. But for now just take my word that everything matches; he's a blond."

"And I'm standing *right here*, you know!" Strife practically snarled.

"Do I have to warn you again about your attitude, young man?" Widow Twanky admonished. "I do have other things besides soap if you need reminding."

For a brief second Strife's eyes widened in almost comical horror, then seeming to remember just where he was and who was watching, he switched back to the glare. "Lady, I don't know what your deal is but I look like some sorta harem boy in this!" He glanced down at himself, lip curling in disgust.

"Of course you do. That's the character you're playing."

"Character?"

"Yes, um...." She looked at the six men before her. Her hands fluttered nervously for a moment before she firmly gripped them together in front of her. "Here's the plan, boys: this theater is now -- temporarily, of course -- a 'Lady's Club.'"

They all stared at her blankly. Autolycus perhaps a bit more so than the rest.

"Oh dear. I'd hoped you'd understand. Well, I suppose I'll just have to be brave and explain." A flush colored her cheeks as she took a deep breath to fortify herself. "Terpsichore suggested something that, while...unusual to us mortals, she says it's become the highest form of entertainment amongst the goddesses."

"You know, I've suddenly got a very bad feeling about this," Hercules muttered under his breath.

"Right there with ya, buddy," Iolaus agreed, wondering if there was an exit somewhere backstage they could use if they had to make a run for it.

"They call it a 'male strip show,'" the Widow concluded with a bright smile that was maybe a little forced.

A brief silence, then everyone was talking at once.

"And you idiots thought I was overacting," Strife grumbled.

"That had better not be what it sounds like," Hercules began.

"Strip show?" Autolycus said in bewilderment.

"There's just no way," Iolaus started with a firm shake of his head.

"I look *so* much better in multiple layers," insisted Salmoneus.

"Not again!" Joxer exclaimed in dismay, slumping in his seat.

Immediately there was silence as all heads turned towards him. His dismay was quickly replaced by a nervous smile, accompanied by rising color in his face as he met the stares. "Um...Meg heard about it in--in one of Aphrodite's temples. She, um, she mademedoitforher." He muttered the last bit, his face turning a dark pink.

"Oh, how wonderful!" Widow Twanky's enthusiastic response drew as many stares as Joxer's exclamation had, although she ignored them. "So you have practical experience then. That's just lovely!"

"Nonono!" Joxer was shaking his head frantically, eyes wide. "I--I only did it for Meg and because she *really* pouted and it was horrible! I mean, she even thought so; she said I don't have any 'rhythm' and I tripped over my feet and I *can't* do that again!"

"You poor dear." Widow Twanky clucked her tongue sympathetically. "I know it must've *seemed* dreadful to you, but that's only because you haven't had the proper training. I promise that when I'm through with you -- *all* of you," she eyed all of the men as she spoke, "you'll be absolutely wonderful at this, and the ladies will adore you."

Strife gave a disgusted snort at that. "They'll like you even if you totally suck, *trust* me."

"That's hardly the proper attitude, young man," she chastised.

"It's the truth." He snorted again, cracking his neck. "I mean, you show up, strip, shake your ass a little and they go nuts. They're screaming so loud you'll be deaf for a week, and they're grabbing atchya, trying get a piece any way they can, drooling all over you, sticking dinars in places they were *never* meant to go, and *then* you gotta get outta there before any of 'em get too into it and try to jump you and ride you right there." He rolled his eyes.

There was no immediate response from any of the other men seated on the stage. Joxer, Salmoneus and Hercules were all wearing similar wide-eyed looks of horror, bordering on panic, Autolycus and Iolaus, however...at least Autolycus seemed to have shaken off the shocked stupor his clothing had sent him into; the slightly maniacal grin slowly stretching across his face -- a look mirrored by Iolaus -- was in a rather disturbing way, not much of an improvement.

"Women...throwing themselves at me?" Iolaus finally ventured, his tone speculative.

"Clamoring at our feet?" Autolycus had a glint in his eyes that wouldn't have been unfamiliar to anyone who'd seen him eye a particularly large pile of treasure. "Well!" He suddenly stood, his grin even wider. "Of course I'm always happy to do my part to help out, right Blondie?" He glanced over at Iolaus.

"Hey, you know Herc's friends are my friends and I'm there for 'em," Iolaus quickly assured Widow Twanky before shooting a glare at Autolycus. "Knock off the nicknames," he added.

"Not a problem, Shorty. So, listen, I've been thinking;" turning his attention fully to Widow Twanky who watched them both with raised eyebrows, Autolycus tugged at the orange robe he wore with a grimace of distaste, "this *really* doesn't work for me. Now hear me out," he insisted when she open her mouth to say something. "You want us to pretend to be something else here, but why? You've already got the perfect guys with the perfect reputations. Err...I guess maybe not *all* of us," he threw a glance in Joxer and Salmoneus' direction, "but you have the big guy there, the 'great Hercules,' and his sidekick--"

"Hey!" Iolaus protested.

"--and the God of Mischief," Autolycus continued, blithely ignoring the other man, "and, of course, how could you go wrong with the King of Thieves?" He smoothed his mustache as he spoke, self-confidence radiating from his every move. "Just let us be ourselves and wear what we normally do." He shrugged, although he did glance down at his robe again with a wince.

Widow Twanky sighed, looking them over. "Well, I suppose.... But only for *some* of you, and *no* leather! You can wear something that looks like your original outfits."

"Has to have rip-away seams anyway," Strife muttered.

"Of course they do, dear, and you're not wearing that horrid outfit you showed up in. This will do just fine." She patted his shoulder.

Strife snarled, although the sound was muted. Crossing his arms over his chest, he presented the perfect picture of defiance mixed with subtle resignation -- although the effect was spoiled a bit by the way the gauzy, purple pants turned a bit see-through when he shifted his weight like that.

"The same for you, young man," Widow Twanky said to Joxer.

"M--Me?" Joxer squeaked. "But I can't wear *that*!" His voice was filled with horror as he pointed to Strife.

"What? And you think *I* like it?" Strife snarled.

"Boys!" She clapped her hands sharply, drawing their attention back to her. "No, dear, you're not going to wear this; it wouldn't look quite right on you. I was going to have a couple of my girls dress all of you up later; right now I simply wanted to get all of you out of that dreadful leather and metal to see what you'd look like in normal clothes."

"Normal?" Iolaus mouthed the word in Hercules' direction. Hercules, who hadn't quite lost that wide-eyed, terror-struck look simply shrugged.

"Can I have my armor back then?" Joxer nearly whined.

"Don't be silly; we'll find you something much better to wear. You too, Hercules. We'll find something in your usual, um, 'fashion' but most definitely in a better color. I'm thinking something in a mauve."

"What's 'mauve?'" Hercules asked Iolaus who just shrugged.

"Oh, it's kind of a purple," Salmoneus answered absentmindedly, "a bit like violet -- no, more of a lilac. At least she didn't suggest puce 'cause with *your* skin tone...." He trailed off when the fact finally registered that the other men where staring at him in disbelief. "I like colors," he muttered sullenly.

"And there's absolutely nothing wrong with that," Widow Twanky pronounced comfortingly. "For you, Autolycus, green is quite lovely so you may keep your outfit, with a few changes in material of course."

"Silk, please," he said with an ingratiating smile.

"Well, yes, I think that could be arranged. And you, Iolaus; blues, I think. Maybe a touch of white."

"Whatever pleases the ladies," Iolaus responded with a wink.

"I'm happy with this," Salmoneus announced.

"You would be." Autolycus looked him over, wrinkling his nose slightly.

"Just because you don't have any taste," Salmoneus started, only to be interrupted by Widow Twanky pointedly clearing her throat.

"That'll be enough, boys. The girls and I will work on finding appropriate clothing for you tonight and we start practice tomorrow."

"When do we have to, um, 'perform?'" asked Iolaus.

"Oh, we have *plenty* of time; certainly enough for me to whip all of you gentlemen into shape."

"So when, exactly?" Autolycus prompted.

"One week." She smiled brightly.

"Oh, that much time? Wow," he said with heavy sarcasm.

"Chins up, my boys; we'll muddle through. Of course until I've seen you all dance, we won't know how much work we have ahead of us, but I'm confident that we'll be ready in time!" Her attitude was so upbeat and chipper that it managed to draw a slight, wavering smile from Joxer.

Salmoneus smiled as well, but that expression spoke more of a "someone get me out of here, please" than true cheerfulness. Hercules, at that point had his head in his hands and was muttering to himself.

"I'll, uh, talk to Herc," Iolaus said, reaching out to pat his friend on the shoulder. Hercules' muttering didn't stop.

"Guess I'll deal with Sal here." Autolycus looked at Salmoneus resignedly.

Widow Twanky nodded approvingly, then turned her gaze on Strife. He just stared back at her. She raised an eyebrow and he frowned.

"What?" he snapped.

She looked at Joxer pointedly and Strife snorted in amusement. Suddenly he struck a dramatic pose, hands over his heart, a sappy smile stretching across his face.

"You're, like, totally right! How could I *possibly* let him sit there and mope? I'm, like, *so* well-known for how much I *adore* humans, so of *course* I'm gonna go over there and make him feel all better!" Instantly he dropped the pose, his expression filled with contempt as he looked at Joxer.

"Maybe I gotta share a room with the 'clueless wonder' there, but no one said nothing 'bout being his best friend. Looking for someone to coddle him? Then turn him over to Jercules there; leave me outta this."

Joxer didn't say anything in response but he dropped his gaze, studying the floor.

Strife's tirade seemed to snap Hercules out of whatever state he'd been in. Giving his nephew a frown of disapproval, he stood up and started to walk over to where Joxer sat.

"No, no, Hercules," Widow Twanky said, stopping him. "Thank you for being the *wonderful* man you are -- and my, are you wonderful," her gaze moved over him quickly before she turned away and suddenly grabbed Strife by the ear, "but this young man here is going to apologize, aren't you?" She shook him, getting a pained whine as his ear turned red.

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