A/N: As requested, I shall endeavour to write in accents for you.

Warning: Things get a little Star Trekky in my head from time to time. Actually why is that a warning? I mean, compared to some of the other stuff in my head you should be thanking Star Trek for being a more sophisticated weapon of self expression.

FOR SCIENCE ...

Prepare, dear uninsured reader, for this journey is about to take a terrifying turn into the dangerous unknown!

Doctor von Goosewing stood on the pavement cross-checking his vampireometer's readouts. Yes, there was at least one vampire in the old two story house, of that he could be sure. He looked up at the sky and shielded his eyes from the sun. "I have just enough time." He smiled. "You know people who shtay indoors all day; it is not zo good for zheir health." He tied a piece of rope to his ray gun and threw it up into the sky. It arched over and caught in the guttering on the roof.

With the help of the down pipe and the invaluable service of the cracks between the bricks he struggled up onto the roof.

"Und now ..." he hooked his ray gun over his shoulder by the strap "... do not try zhis at home." He lit the wick on the home-made grenade and perched it on the roof, then he stumbled on the sloping roof as he tried to get far enough away from the explosion.

He shielded himself from the blast with the help of the chimney, but then he felt the roof give way from underneath his feet. He shrieked.

Amidst a flurry of dust Goosewing pulled himself out of the wreckage and checked his vampireometer. No vampires left! "Wunderbar und glockenspiel! I have done it." He exalted.

Goosewing coughed as he staggered out of the ruin. 'That's some ...' "Ah-choo! Ach, mein head." He rubbed his watering eyes. "This morning, you know, I said to myself, I said 'Goosewing, don't forget your hah-' ah-choo!" He sneezed again, "but zhen, you know, I shtill is forgetting to take it I am. Zhen off I go to verk ..." He leaned his laser gun against his white trouser leg and dusted himself off. The particles of dust came off him, surrounding him in a thick cloud.

A car came up to the curb and the passenger window slid down. "Docktor von Gooseving! Zhere you are! You'd better get in."
He looked in through the window to see who the driver was that knew his name. "Claudette!" He exclaimed. "Vhat are you doing 'round here? I sought you-."
"Docktor Gooseving, just get in ze car!" Claudette squawked at him urgently. "Zis is not a good place to shtop."
"Okay zhen ..." He picked up his laser gun and got into the passenger seat. "Claudette, you know, it is not zafe on zhe shtreets; it is getting near zunset ..."
"You're zhe one that vaz on zhe street, sank you!" She snapped curtly back as she drove off down the road.
"Miss, please. I am quite good at looking after myself-."
"Oh, no you're not!" She accelerated faster along the street. "And I am not a miss; I am a docktor!"

They sped along the streets for some time with Claudette in her brooding silence.
They turned onto the highway now and Goosewing watched the sun setting through the windows. "Docktor, do you mind telling me vhat is troublingk you?"
"Do you know vhat it vas you did back zhere, Docktor Gooseving?"
"The wampire nest I deshtroyed, ja?"
"Ja! Zhey vere connected to Klaus van der Schvartz!"
"... Uh, who?"
Claudette hunched over the wheel. "Mr. Schvartz is an extremely influential and important wampire in Berne and he's quite touchy. I've got to get you out of his city before you do anyzhing else zhat will actually make him furiouz enough to chase you down."

'How would you know that Klaus van der Schvartz is a vampire? Unless ...' Goosewing started searching his pockets for his vampireometer. 'Now, I know I had it a minute ago ...'

Goosewing checked his vampireometer and the indicator swung around to positive. He grabbed his ray gun. "You're a wampire!"
"Ve are going 125 Km per hour on zhe highvay! Zhink about this, Docktor von Gooseving! Killing me will only get you killed as vell."
Goosewing glanced at the road in front of them, realising she was right. Not to mention he was looking at the metal road barrier and nothing but the distant mountains beyond it. "Ach nein! Look out!"
They took in a giddy turn around the mountain which upset his balance and he hit the passenger door with a painful yet reassuring jab in his back. "Uh, could you please shlow down, docktor?"
"Not until you calm down and put down your veapon! Is zhat request so utterly unreasonable, docktor?"
Goosewing gulped and sat back down in his seat. "No, I guess-."
Claudette grabbed his ray gun from his hands and threw it into the back seat.

There was a moment as the car decelerated along the highway. "I haven't hurt you, have I, docktor?"
"No ... I don't know vhatever it is you are up to." Goosewing confessed. "But vhatever it is it can't be good."
Claudette groaned. "You know there is a technical term for people like you."
"I am a wampire hunter."
"I was zhinking more along zhe lines of blinker wizion; you won't allow yourself to accept zhat I am trying to zave you."
"Zave me?" Goosewing repeated the unreal concept. "But ... you're a wampire."
"Let me ask you a qvestion, docktor. Have I hurt you? Have I attacked you vhile we've been in each other's company? Docktor, have I ever attempted to cause you harm?"
"No ..."
"Good, zince I agree. Now, I have just one more qvestion, Docktor Gooseving. Are you ready for it?"
"Well, I can hardly know zhat I am ready for the qvestion until you tell me vhat qvestion zhis is zhat you are goingk to ask me."
Claudette was silent for a moment. "You've got a point." She paused. "Zo zhen here is zhe qvestion. Have I had the chance to hurt you?"
"Chance?"
"You are on your guard from me now, docktor. But vere you on your guard from me zhat night vhen you rescued me?"
Goosewing thought about the answer to this, and did not want to answer that he had not been.

Instead he decided to change the topic. "If you are also a wampire zhen vhy did zhat wampire attack you?"
"Oh, I have my zheory ..." She paused. "In my glove box. Zhere is zhe answer to zhat qvestion und many more."
Goosewing opened up the glove box and found a notebook computer stowed in the compartment. "Vhat did zhat wampire vant wiz your mini computer? You can't even play a CD on it."
"No, docktor. My zhesis is on zhat computer: interpolating the wampire psyche. I've been amassing key wampire zocio-shtrata characteriztics and conzumption data for decadez."
Goosewing was extremely confused by this. "A wampire that studies wampires?"
"Wampire behaviour patterns; ja."

"I have been hijacked by a wampire zwan." Goosewing summarised his current experience. "My reputation will be in tatters."
"I sink you place too much of your ego on the views of outsiders wiz whom you do not regularly familiarise yourself. Inshtead vhy not conzider the wirtues you hold onto wizhin yourzelf?"
Goosewing cleared his throat. "Zo I zee. You are a pzychiatrist. A wampire pzychiatrist."
"I am a docktor of behavioural zcience, ja."
"But you are a wampire."
Claudette was quiet for a moment, "you know: vhen you play viz fire, it is just a matter of time before you get burnt." She sighed. "Vhich brings me to zhe wery reason zhat I am here trying to zave you."
Goosewing blinked. 'Maybe there is something slightly true to this? Like ... the information on that computer. If I can unlock it, I could use it to rid the world of vampires far more easily!' "Zhank you, Clau- docktor, for zaving me."
"Zwansonn. You're wery velcome, docktor Gooseving. I'm wery glad we've come to a truce as two rational, reasonable people."
"A truce; ja." Goosewing stared at the glove box. 'Now, what are the chances that it is password protected?'

The car swerved off the roadway and then stopped at a petrol station. Goosewing tensed in his seat. "We are stopping?" Claudette got out and Goosewing rescued his ray gun from the back before jumping out, ready to make Claudette history.
"How long do you sink zhat I can survive vizhout drinking blood, docktor von Goosewing?" Claudette asked as she filled the tank.
"A few nights? Not every night, alzhough a lot of wampires do."
"You're dezcribing ein habit, docktor, like eating chocolate or drinking coffee. But how long can I survive vizhout having it?"
"Excuze me but ve are not talking about a harmless zhing like ... coffee."
"Ja, das ist zhe zame! You shouldn't drink coffee; it's not good for you. I shouldn't drink blood; it's not good for zhe ozher person! Das ist eine sehr bad habit." She folded her arms across her chest. "I am nicht verrückt: I have statistics to show zhat it is a habit zhat can be broken."
"Docktor Zwansonn, I believe you are mizing zhe point here."
"Okay, zo vhat do you believe is zhe point, docktor?"
"Wampires are demons. Fiends."
"Zhat is zpecies dizcrimination." Claudette prodded him verbally. "I am going to go in und pay for zhis. Kommst du auch, docktor?"
Goosewing remembered he couldn't shoot her without getting the password for her computer - unless he really needed to.

'For science a little suffering is necessary. So I will just watch her and try and get this password from her.'