Summary: Giles gets a clue at the start, and trains Xander and Willow somewhat.
Crossover: King of Fighters
Disclaimer: I own naught but debt.
Feedback: Why not?
Pre-fic Comments:
Oh, hell yeah I rule. Grovel at my feet, worms, and tremble before your KING!
(I'm not drunk. Honest. I'm not listening to any Tangerine Dream or Meshuggah either.)
Xander moseyed on through to the Library, grinning widely as he walked through the double doors.
"Billy! Nice to see you!," Xander yelled out.
"Nice ta see you too, mate," Billy grinned back. "This's Iori Yagami, you probably know him already from telly, eh?"
"Something like that," Xander shrugged. "Hi, I'm Xander Harris."
The redheaded man looked him up and down carefully, hands in his pockets. "Ripper told me that you can make your own flame."
Xander shrugged, lifting a hand as a tongue of flame appeared. It wound around his arm and up from his hand like a python, dancing in the air. "Something like that. This comes in /way/ useful for barbeques around Christmas time."
"Ripper also tells us that you're having problems controlling it," Billy smirked. "Gonna tell your old mate Billy about it?"
Xander blushed, remembering the most memorable incident where he had had a wet dream and had almost burnt the house down.
Iori chuckled at this. "In your dreams, eh?"
"Something like that," Xander laughed nervously. "Did it happen to you, or am I just the only loser-freak?"
"It happens to everyone with the inner flame," Iori said calmly, before his eyes locked onto Xander's. An intense gaze stopped Xander from dropping eye contact. "And you are /not/ a freak. Or are you calling me a freak?"
"Do I look suicidal?," Xander joked, dodging the question.
"If you say anything else you probably are," Billy called out. "Look, part of the reason that we're here is so Iori here can train you up a bit in using this flame without setting your pants on fire."
"I'm only staying here because I don't know where that filthy Kusanagi has hidden," Iori muttered.
"Right," Billy nodded. He pulled out a peculiar looking metal glove, carefully handing it to Xander. "Got you something. Geese told me to give it to you, since he was kinda interested in the Hellmouth and all."
"Thanks," Xander said, carefully pulling the glove on. "This is so cool!"
The part covering his palm was mostly missing, while the wrist part had a leather strap just after the hinge to tighten once the glove had been put on. Long, thin blades stretched from the tips of the fingers and the thumb. It vaguely resembled Freddy Krueger's glove, in the way that a Scottish Claymore resembled (with great imagination) a staff with nails sticking out.
"Wh-what /are/ you doing, Xander?," Giles asked, entering the library and seeing him play with a lethal looking device.
"I was just giving him his present, Ripper," Billy said defensively.
Giles sighed. "Xander, if you come within ten feet of my books wearing that, I'll have your guts for garters."
Everyone's eyes immediately travelled to rest on the belt linking Iori's knees.
"Hey!," Iori said, beginning to get annoyed.
"Uh, how about we find an empty field somewhere," Billy said quickly. He did not want to be around if Iori blew up, which was likely if people kept needling him.
"Okay," Xander shrugged. He flexed his right hand, watching the five knives move hypnotically. "This is /so/ cool."
"Unless you wish to donate it to myself or Principal Snyder, I suggest you take it off while in school," Giles suggested.
"Bugger," Xander muttered, undoing the wrist strap.
"Billy! He is spending too much time around you if he's picking up English swear words...," Giles trailed off threateningly.
"Hey, look at the time, better get going before Geese rings me!," Billy grinned, walking out the door.
Iori paused halfway down the hall. "Something's wrong."
"What?," Xander asked. "A kid got beaten up by a baseball bat floating in mid-air today... we think it might be a ghost."
The redhead looked around thoughtfully. "No, whoever it is is still alive..."
"Xander, are you sure you should be here?," Buffy asked, worried.
Xander smiled at her, weaving slightly as he followed her through the graveyard. "I'm fine, Buff! And I want to try out my new toy."
"New toy?," Buffy asked, instantly intrigued.
Xander pulled the bladed glove from his backpack and put it on. "See? I have a much cooler Santa Claus than you."
Buffy looked at it, open mouthed. "Why doesn't Santa leave me that kinda thing? Terminator-Krueger, much?"
A vampire burst out of the earth of a freshly laid grave. Xander slapped it, hard.
Now, when most people slap someone, their cheek hurts like heck for awhile, they might get a bit scratched, but they aren't hurt that bad, all told.
Xander didn't take off the glove before he slapped it.
He curled his finger slightly, so that the blades ripped into the vampire's head. The incredibly sharp knives slid through the decaying flesh and bone, leaving it's cranium in about six pieces.
Needless to say, it dusted.
The Slayer's mouth dropped open again as she stared at the bloody weapon. Abruptly, it snapped shut as she grabbed hold of Xander's arm.
"Hey, leggo!," Xander protested, swinging his arm around to try and make Buffy let go.
"NO!," the Slayer roared, clutching onto his arm like a bedsheet on a washing line in a high wind. "MINE!"
"This is mine, goddammit, and I'm keeping it!," Xander yelled back.
"MINE!"
Post-fic Comments:
Remember what Buffy said, the first time she met a crossbow?
Similar principle.