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It was asked why this had to be a 'completely black' group. This will be explained in this chapter.
Unknown Date / Unknown Location / Unknown group - (Following prior chapter. The same meeting)
"I would council caution. While we need to gather these people together, we must also consider the group as a whole."
"What do you mean?"
"We have three excellent fighters and a certified genius as our first four. They lack anyone with an in-depth knowledge of the arcane or the research materials to gain it. If Harris leaves the NWC to join this group, he would likely lose access to their archives."
"Good points. It occurs that someone with their own, independent contacts should be approached."
"I have such an individual in mind…"
"Aha, Basil, you sneaky brit. You're trying to sneak a third nomination in aren't you? Well, tell us then."
"Lady Lara Croft"
"Her!"
"Her!"
Both the others sound incredulous.
"Her experience, ah, 'Tomb Raiding', along with her early life, has given her a lot of contacts around the world. She is knowledgeable about, unusual, happenings and is herself so wealthy that gaining more is meaningless."
"Well…"
"I suppose. It's just, the uproar she can cause on her own. The thought of her being connected to us…"
"I thought that is why we were making this a black operation. By their nature, these peoples missions are unlikely to remain covert for long. The rise in para-normal events will soon penetrate the publics awareness. Once they become public, any links to us, and then from us, will be traced. We cannot afford to have our other assets exposed, so, we 'cut-the-cord' as it were as soon as possible and deny any part in their creation, though offer our support gladly to 'this heroic group of people who risk life and limb for the world.' when the time comes."
"I'm glad you're on our side."
"Me too."
"Dear boys, we are all on our own sides. We just happily seem to share the same ends. So, Lady Croft is on the team?"
"Ok, you sold me on it."
"Can I suggest another as well as Lady Croft?"
"Which would bring us to six core members. Fire away, but lets keep it at that."
"Dr Henry Jones Jr. has been kicking around since forever. He opposed the Nazis during the war, and thwarted two attempts by Hitler to gain a supernatural edge. He also appears to have stopped aging around the time of the second incident. Supposedly, it surrounded the Holy Grail of the Christian faith. He is an expert on all manner of arcane objects. If all else fails, he asks his dad, Dr Henry Jones Sr., who co-incidentally, was involved in the second incident and has also appeared to have stopped aging."
"Sounds promising, but I think we bring the five in, and give the this Dr Jones' number, along with any others we can scrounge up that we can't get for ourselves, but who may prove amenable to them."
"I approve, it reduces chances of interception."
"Very well."
"I suppose."
"Meeting adjourned."
12/3/04 / Cairo - Egypt
Xander Harris was pissed. Not drunk, angry. He'd just zeroed in on the latest slayer to be called in his area (Half of Continental Africa) following a week of searching, after a blistering telephone call with Buffy in which she'd called him a slacker, a dolt and a waste of space. It didn't seem to occur to her that Africa was BIG, and it took time to travel from place to place. All she cared about was that he hadn't done it already so she could rest assured that all was well, allowing her to stay 'on sabbatical' a while longer. So, discovering the new slayer on a slave block in the demon-run basement did nothing for Xander's already frayed temper.
"I am going to count to five. If she is not unchained, unharmed and released by the time I reach five, I release the Aklarian Burrower Beetles I have in my sack. If she is, then you get to die quickly."
The demons rushed to obey, anyone with Aklarian Burrower Beetles commanded obedience. Xander made his way to the Slayer, an Oriental looking woman with brown eyes and dark hair who was about his own height.
"Hey there. What's your name? I'm Xander Harris."
"C, C, Cassandra Newman."
"Ok Cassandra, you come with me, and we'll get you safe."
"O, Ok."
As Xander led Cassandra to the only entrance to the slavers den, the demons drew further back. 'Xander Harris' was a name feared in demonic circles. Oh, Summers, Rosenberg and Giles were scarier, but this guy stared down Angelus, he was freaky.
As Xander and Cassandra exited the door, he reached into his bag, pulling out three silver cylinders.
"Fire in the hole." he called softly, as he threw them through the door and pulled it shut. "We should run now." And so they did, not stopping till they were four streets away. Needless to say, the explosion was big.
"So, Cassandra, what's a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?" Xander joked.
"Th, Those, things, g, grabbed me. Th, they kept calling me s, slayer and told me they were gonna s, sell me to the highest bidder. Oh thankyouthankyouthankyou…" Maria dissolved into tears as she finished her tale, clutching at Xander
"Shh, shh. It'll be ok. They can't get you now. They'll never hurt anyone ever again."
"H, How did you know where to find m, me?"
"I was wandering round downtown Cairo when my sixth sense, aka gorgeous woman detector, went off. So I followed it and found you." Xander said with a lopsided smile.
"R, Really?"
"No." Xander half turned away. "Have you been having nightmares recently?"
"Y, yes. A black girl killed by a bleached blonde monster. A girl called India being lectured by a man in tweed, 'she alone has the strength to fight the monsters, vampires, demons and the forces of Darkness'. A blonde girl killed by a monster in a cave. The same blonde girl meeting a brunette girl called Faith. A cave filled with creatures, the blond and Faith leading girls into it and fighting and a red haired woman doing something…"
"Oh good. You, Cassandra, are a slayer. A mystical champion empowered to fight vampires, demons and the forces of darkness. You are, however, not alone. There are a few hundred like you around the world, guided by Watchers, aided by friends and backed up by witches. You were only Called recently, and I'm afraid it took me, too long, to find you. If you wish, we can train you to fight, set you up somewhere you'd be needed and pay a reasonable wage. You'd have to go to school and maintain decent grades. That's it, the whole recruitment speech in one. I can only apologise for not getting to you before they did."
Maria gazed at the one-eyed man who'd rescued her, listening not only to the words, but the tone he delivered them in.
"How far away were you when I was, um, 'Called'?"
I was in a small village near the source of the Nile river. The shaman was interested in learning more about the history of the Slayer. I was escorting a woman of the tribe who'd been called back to them, as she'd completed basic training. We've had to set up different training plans for different groups. You'd probably get Intermediate training, that takes a minimum of a year, followed by apprenticeship at one of the Hellmouths under an established Slayer. Rona probably."
"And if I say no?"
"There is a serum, it would strip you of you slayer-i-ness and mystical aura, but while it seems an attractive option, there is a downside."
"Which is?"
"You've now been introduced to the mystical side of the world, and the demons who took you may have some way of tracking you without using your slayer presence. If they do, they might hunt you down in revenge. Also, can you turn your back on those in need?"
"What can a Slayer do?"
"She's faster, has better reflexes, is way stronger and heals more quickly than a normal person."
"What do you have?"
"Me? Nothing. I stumbled into this world at 16 and couldn't turn away. To tell the truth, my friends aren't too keen on me keeping on fighting."
"Friends?"
"The blonde girl you saw. Her names Buffy, oldest living Slayer, well technically. She's died a couple of times. The red-head was Willow, my bestest bud. Faith's a pal too."
"What happened to your eye?"
"A crazy guy working for the other side gouged it out with his thumb. I wont lie to you, this life is violent and often short. But I think it's worth it."
"Where were your friends when he did that!"
"Across the room, where he'd thrown them. Now, do you have any family that you'd like to contact?"
"N, no. I ran away when they started to talk about institutionalisation because of the dreams."
"Ok. We won't force you to contact them, but I'd advise it. Having a family that loves you can be a great support in times of trouble."
"How long do I have to decide?"
"Well, if having met me, you decide that you want nothing to do with us, you can walk away now, no questions asked, though I advise against it. You could go to Council HQ, and have the travel time to decide if you want to stay a slayer or not."
"Would you go with me?"
"I'm afraid not. You're looking at the regional director of the International Council of Slayers and Watchers, African Continent (North). I'm needed here, what if another girl needs me? Besides, I'm the contact for three-quarters of the tribes we have relations with. I can't just gallivant off to London."
"C, can I stay with you?"
"You need proper training, I just use the dual tactics of dirty fighting and over-kill. There's no way I can give you the techniques you can use best."
"But, I want to stay here. You saved me from a roomful of demons who were scared of you. Please. You said it was my choice. I choose to stay with you. Plus, I'm already a brown belt in aikido and an orange in karate."
"But… Ok. Who am I to deny another's choice. I'll relay all this to the G-Man and the rest. Come on, we better get to a hotel."
The two warriors against the dark, a Champion so new she squeaked and a warrior aged inside by his experiences, but young in countenance, made their way to a Hotel. Once there, Xander reported the days events to Council HQ, along with Cassandra's expressed desire to stay with him, and his willingness to act as a Field Watcher until someone more qualified was assigned.
13/03/04 / ICSW HQ - England
"Well, Xander seems to be his usual charming self, though why he persists in addressing me as 'G-Man' even when he can't see the result is a mystery. Hmm, expenses claim for three hi-explosive grenades, used for… good lord, demolishing a demon slave trading business. He'll want thermo-baric munitions next!" Rupert Giles, Head of the new ICSW, was reading Xander's report of the night before. "Hmm, the new Slayer wants to stay with him, hardly a surprise…"
As Giles turned to the next page of the report, his door burst in and a blonde whirlwind entered the room, waving a copy of Xander's report.
"Giles, Xander's obviously possessed again, he thinks he can train a slayer. I mean, he's useful for pick-ups, but training, no way. So, I'm taking the jet to get the new slayer and Xander so he can be de-possessed or something."
"Buffy…" Giles started
"I know, it's good of me to cut my sabbatical short. Bye Giles." she chirped, as she left the room.
"Oh dear. I'd best alert the cooks to stock up more chocolate ice-cream. I doubt Xander will let Buffy waltz in and give orders." He presses a button on his intercom. "Molly, would you get some extra-strength paracetamol in, I'm afraid we're in for round twenty-eight of the Summers-Harris grudge-match. Some scotch as well please."
"Yes sir Mr Giles."
"Thank you." he released the button. "I do hope they both survive. I do believe they're close to turning the corner in their disagreements. Wait a minute! 'The Jet'! we only have one, and that's for emergencies only! Blast."
19/03/04 / Village somewhere in Central Africa / Xander and Maria
"So you do this often?"
"What?"
"The fighting evil shamans who've enslaved their villages."
"It's pretty common Cass, so yeah."
"And the distribution of vaccines and medicinal drugs?"
"Well, they need it, and I've a load of money anyway that I won't miss, so why not?"
"You're a good man, Alexander Harris."
"Please, I'm begging you, call me Xand- GET DOWN!"
As he dove at Cassandra, knocking her out of the way of the incoming fireball and behind a sandy hillock, another Jeep pulled up. Unfortunately, the fireball caught Xander's arm, burning him. Out of the Jeep sprang Buffy.
"Buffy, get down! Fireball happy Shaman over there!"
Cassandra whispered to Xander "She is the bogeyman's worst nightmare!"
"Yep. Now get over there and take out the Shaman, I'll cover you."
With that, Xander pulls out an old six-shooter, leans around the hillock and opens fire. Maria sprints around the other way, but runs into Buffy coming the other way.
"Is he using a gun?" Buffy growls.
"Uh-huh" Replies Cassandra distractedly "Excuse me."
With that, she's off. Using Slayer speed to approach the wayward Shaman, she's halfway there before Buffy tackles her.
"Stay Down. I'll handle this."
As Buffy gets up, Xander's gun falls silent. Buffy runs straight towards the Shaman, skilfully dodging the fireballs he hurls at her, instead of at the hillock. She reaches him in under ten seconds and knocks him unconscious with a single blow. Xander gets up from his cover.
"WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT? Cass, get the burn kit and meet me in the village." he shouts.
As Buffy turns to approach his position, he turns and sprints towards the village. Some of the fireballs Buffy had dodged had hit the villagers. Three were burned, while another fireball had hit…the nursery hut! With a turn of speed which would have greatly improved his grade for PE in High School, Xander entered the now-blazing hut, and came out with four children. Handing them off to members of the tribe, he turned and went back in! This time exiting with three more babies, coughing heavily. The hut was now empty.
"Cass! Start applying the burn patches to the injured villagers!" He called. As he turned to the hut, more villagers ran up.
"Thank you, you saved the village from the Shaman." said one in broken English.
"Thanks, shmanks. Let's put this fire out."
Having reached him, Buffy grabbed his arm.
"ARGGHH" he screamed and fell to the ground. Buffy had grabbed his burnt arm. "Get OFF" he growled at her.
"Xander, I'm sorry. We've got to get you to the hospital. You know you don't heal as fast as me…"
"Later, first we've got to help these people."
"But…"
"Cass, how are the burn patients?"
"Nothing too serious, looks like only one in four of the fireballs were hot enough to do more than scorch."
"Good. Now, as Miss Summers here has so, kindly, reminded me of my arm, could you bandage it up please. Buffy, go help with the fire."
"But…"
"NOW."
"Ok Xander."
"Can do Boss-Man."
"Now I fell like Giles. Soon the urge to wear tweed will become overwhelming…"
19/03/04 / Colorado Springs High School
"I hate High School." muttered Colonel Jack O'N… sorry, Jack Lazarus, as he left the school building.
"I hear ya buddy" agreed a random student.
In the months since he'd left the SGC behind for High School, Jack had gone from very happy (classes were easy and the girls cute) to rather depressed (All his old friends were gone, he was stuck as a teenager and he couldn't buy beer!). He'd also developed a reputation. He was quiet, polite to teachers and students alike, had a tendency to befriend geeks and had got into three fights, twice to defend a geek, once to help a girl who's boyfriend didn't understand 'No'. As such, he'd been expelled, apparently three fights in three months and breaking the arm of the schools star quarterback merited expulsion, with nothing to fill his days with. 'Halo' and hockey could only be watched so much. The Simpson's however, remained an enjoyable recourse. There was no such thing as 'too much Simpsons', thankfully. His new friends would come by after school, but while he liked them, and had the advantage of forty odd years extra experience and had dealt with Samantha 'Her brain is the equal of any twenty normal peoples' Carter, he just didn't have the enthusiasm for math and science they did. English was cool though, and Latin (an elective) was easy due to the whole 'time-loop' thing, that'd been fun. Though Space-monkey must never discover that he voluntarily took a language course…
"Aw, damn." He muttered. Daniel wouldn't find out, because he was Jack Lazarus not O'Neill, O'Neill with the career, the friends, the lake… "Aw, damn."
The phone rang, and he answered it with the now instinctive "Jack Lazarus here. Speak."
"Mr Lazarus, we are aware of your unique situation, and have a job offer for you. If you're interested in a low-paid high-risk vocation in which you'll save the world, a lot, meet me outside the Colorado FBI office on the 23rd of this month."
"Who is this? What do you know?"
"My name is Hal Brognola. I'm head of the Justice department. I know everything, Colonel. By the way, Mack say's 'twenty-twenty-alpha'." With that, the caller rang off.
"Crap."
19/03/04 / Village somewhere in Central Africa / Evening
They'd put out the fire, the village was safe from supernatural threats and the villagers had invited them to a ceremonial banquet. Buffy was being, difficult.
"But I don't want to eat grubs!"
"Buffy, if you offend them, they stake you to the ground, cover you in berry juice and wait for the ants to eat you alive."
"But I saved them. And I could take them all one hand behind my back."
"Buffy, we're here to make friends, not piss off entire tribes! And me and Cass saved them, you got in the way."
"WHAT!" screeched Buffy "I saved your asses! You were playing around with a gun, and don't think Willow won't hear about that mister, and the new Slayer was running towards that Shaman! If I hadn't stopped her, she'd have been fried!"
Xander's eye narrowed. Cassandra's mouth dropped open. The tribes-people looked on in confusion, the white-man had been courteous, observed their ways as best he could and devised a plan to free them from the evil Shaman. The girl who'd arrived with him had helped the injured after the blond girl interfered, but the new girl was shouting at them! Why?
"Buff, I do not and never have 'played' with guns. I was laying down covering fire for Cass to circle round without attracting the Shaman's attention. She was circling round so that when she distracted him, no fireballs could over-shoot and hit the village! Willow already knows about the guns, she's the one that put the magical SEP field on them so I can carry them through customs. And her Name is Cassandra. Not 'Slayer', though the fact she is one means she could have done what you did just as well as you did. So next time, butt out." By the end, Xander's voice had gone ice-cold, furious that Buffy would address anyone as 'Slayer', a label she'd fought to shift as hard as she could.
"Xander, you're obviously possessed or something. You seem to think you can train a slayer when you're just Xander, nothing special. You've done a good job finding them, but you send them to us for training. I'm here to take, uh, Cassandra, right, back to England. Besides, we're replenishing the Watcher ranks faster than expected, so pretty soon you're gonna be replaced and come to London where I can keep an eye on you."
"No."
"What!"
"I am not possessed. Cassandra is here because she wants to be, so you will not force her. If the Council chooses to replace me as Regional Head, that's up to them, but I'm not leaving Africa anytime soon. There's too much to be done."
"Xander, you need to come home. You've obviously been on your own too long. When we get to London I'll have the Coven check you over. Cassandra needs proper training, not some haphazard brawling you picked up over the years. Besides, what do you do here that the next Watcher can't?"
"Not can't, won't. The Council is seriously under-funded these days. I've been delivering medicines I bought myself with my own funds. What with the insurance payments on my eye, insurance on the apartment and the federal disaster money, I'm pretty wealthy. So I can help these people. Over the last six months, most of the African governments have decided to give me free access. They watch me, sure. They don't want me spying or anything. But these watchers who watch the Watcher…" he grinned "…see what I, we now, I suppose, fight. They also see what I've distributed. You carry on saving the world Buff, I'll help the people who live in it. By the way, Home is either a crater in southern California, or here. Not London."
"You're wealthy? You should've helped us after Sunnydale. We were holed up in poky little rooms with no clothes! You could have taken us shopping! And if you have money, you should give it to Giles to help the Council."
"Why should I have?"
"What? You're Xander. Helping us is what you do. Besides, you obviously didn't know what to do with all that money, so you should give it to those who do, like Willow, Giles or me."
"I've fought beside you, behind you and instead of you since sophomore year. That should be help enough. As to knowing how to deal with money, I've been better off than you or Will since High School. Think a little, it should help. If it doesn't, take a long hard look at how you paid you're mortgage after Joyce died. I helped enough. Besides, at the time I was just ever so slightly upset that Anya was dead! Money was not at the forefront of my mind! As to the Council, Giles is a good man, a man I wish was my father, but I consider it, at best, a necessary evil."
"You've obviously lost it. I'm gonna bring you…"
"Shut up." Both Xander and Buffy stared at Cassandra, having forgotten about their audience.
"When Xander told me about you, he told me about your courage, your skill, and wit. He told me you were a hero. Now, I've met you for myself, you're a disappointment. Since you got here, you've belittled him, tried to tell me what to do and generally made a fool of yourself. I mean, high heels in the desert! What were you thinking? I chose to stay with Xander, as he rescued me from the demons trying to sell me to the highest bidder. A prostitution ring was winning when he came for me. He helps as many as he can, of any race, creed, religion or species with everything he has. Go away. You're not needed here."
"Xander! Are you gonna let her say that?"
"Her own observations Buff. I happen to agree with them. Go home."
"If you don't come with me, you're off the Council! Giles agrees with me. And if your little friend doesn't come in, she'll end up designated a rogue Slayer! You know what'll happen then!" Buffy yelled.
Xander shook his head sadly. "Guess I over-estimated the G-Man. Huh. Alright then."
"You'll come in."
"No. I'm off the Council."
Buffy gaped at him. Xander stepped forward, getting into her face.
"And if you guys send anyone after Cass, I'll kill you."
Buffy had a flashback to the beginning of her second year at Sunnydale High. 'If they've hurt Willow because you didn't do your job, I'll kill you.'
"Xander, you are coming with me."
Buffy grabbed his arm, intending to drag him to her car, only to have him stick a syringe in her arm. She suddenly felt fuzzy, as if ill."
"Wha, what was tha…"
"The cruciamentum serum mixed with a fast acting sedative. Giles shipped me some after I had to kill a Slayer who had gone rogue and was terrorising her village. Goodnight Buff."
As Buffy sank into unconsciousness, she saw Xander turn to Cassandra. The last thing she heard was;
"Looks like I'm a rogue now. I suggest you go to London and talk to G-Man."
"No, I'm staying with you."
Buffy heard the absolute loyalty in her voice, and remembered when Xander spoke to her like that. When did it go wrong? With that thought, she slipped into unconsciousness.
Unknown Date / Cairo
When Buffy awoke, she found herself in a hotel room, with a first class ticket to London in her pocket and a letter addressed to Rupert Giles in her hand. As she made her way to the airport, she considered what had happened.
"Stupid bastard, he's gonna wind up getting in a heap of trouble, come calling for help and expect us to fall all over him. Giles is going to kill me for losing the new slayer."
23/03/04 / Watcher HQ / ICSW Emergency Meeting
"You said what?"
"You, you, idiot!"
"B, you stupid…"
"Oh dear lord…"
"Xander's gone?" there was a thump.
At the centre of the shouting sat Buffy, unconcernedly filing her nails.
"Well!" demanded Giles
"He was being unreasonable, he needed to be reminded who's in charge, and that he needs us. A couple of weeks and he'll come crawling back."
"Were you even listening to the letter? He's sent back his council credit cards and cheque-book, both used very sparsely I might add, a request for his back-pay to be paid into a numbered Swiss account and formally renounced his membership of the ICSW!"
"It's Xander, he'll be back. Besides, Giles, you were talking about recalling him just the other day."
"For the short-term, to give him some direction in the training of a Slayer!"
"What, Xander?"
"Good Lord, you're all blind and deaf aren't you? Every single Slayer he has recruited has been singing his praises and jockeying to be assigned to the African office, despite the paucity of demons there. He is responsible for the reconstruction of our North Africa branch and three-quarters of the tribes he's met like the lad. The other quarter worship him! We'll get no help from them finding Xander and Cassandra."
"Willow can find them."
"But I won't."
"What?"
"Buffy, you kicked him out, threatened his friend and tried to force him to do what you want. I hope and pray he'll stay in contact with the rest of us, but as I know Xander would never do anything malicious or selfish, there is no need to find him, or any Slayer who accompanies him."
Buffy looked shocked. "Bu, but we need to make sure he's okay! He could get hurt!"
"Buffy, the fact is, Xander's one serious injury came when he followed another without question. He'll be fine."
Robin Wood chipped in from a video link. "Harris has been a busy bee over the years. Yesterday, a man came into our New York office, carrying a large crate. He left it in the lobby, said 'Harris said you could use these.' and walked out. The crate contained one hundred customised machine-pistols…"
"He's been gun-happy since that Halloween. Guns don't work on Vamps!"
"…customised to fire these." Wood held up a unique looking bullet. "The bullet contains a UV-emitting gel which disintegrates vampiric flesh on contact. A head-shot or one to the heart would kill a vamp."
"Huh!"
"How?"
"Good Lord! Could you describe the man please Robin?"
"Sure Rupert. He was a tall black guy in dark clothes. He had a Katana poking out the back of his coat. Oh, and he wore dark glasses."
"Blade. Oh, Dear Lord."
Who is this guy Giles? Do we need to slay him?"
"Buffy. One, we don't slay the people who've just given us excellent weapons to combat vampires from a distance. Two, I doubt you, or any of us short of Willow, could hurt him. The man is called Blade. His mother was bitten by a vampire during labour, who turned her. As a result of this, Blade is a Dhampire, a half-human / half-vampire. Called the Daywalker as he suffers none of the vampire specific weaknesses, crosses, holy water, sunlight etc., he protects New York from vampiric predators. His name strikes fear in demons the world over."
"How do you know this?"
"Do you remember how both myself and Xander were dismissive of the idea that your mothers illness was supernatural in origin?"
"Yes."
"It was because Xander met Blade on his Road trip…"
"He did not, he never got past Oxnard!"
"His car broke down coming back, not on the outbound leg."
"Well, he asked Blade to visit Sunnydale. Not to stay, but to help explain to the local demons that 'civilian' family members were off-limits as targets/hostages. As I understood it, he stood in the background as Xander stated his terms, introduced himself and despatched a Polgaran who didn't believe him. I got to meet him, it was quite an, ah, honour."
"So he kills vamps and the odd demon. We recruit him and then…"
"Buffy, as I choose to believe you are not stupid, I'll assume you mis-heard. He gave us the weapons on Xander's say-so. If we attempt to control him, he'll disappear and we'll have lost a valuable contact."
"But Giles, it's just Xander…"
"Just Xander!"
"Calm down Willow."
"Ok Giles." huffed Willow.
"Buffy, you are talking about a man who, in his one 'holiday' from fighting vampires, demons and the forces of darkness, tracked down the most feared demon hunter of the age. Not to mention that he has an open invitation to visit the Charmed Ones… Frankly Buffy, Xander isn't 'just' anything.
"But…"
"Be Quiet. I propose we keep our ears open. We don't try to find Xander, but we can try his phone, see if he will consent to speak with us. It will likely take a while before he calms down. Willow, if you would be so good to find him and go to him, telling none of us where he may be, simply to assure him that not all of us disregard his past actions and value. Also, remind him he has friends without pressuring him to return. Oh, please convince him to call Dawn, as soon as she wakes up, she'll be inconsolable."
"Seems like a plan."
"Okie dokey."
"You got it G."
"Good. Meeting adjourned."
As video screens winked off, and the English contingent left the communications centre (Carrying the unconscious Dawn with them, presumably to a medical station.), Buffy was left where she was sitting.
"But, it's just Xander…"
23/03/04 / Dakar - Senegal
"Mr Alexander Harris? Miss Cassandra Newman?"
Xander and Cassandra looked up from their meal at hearing the English-accented words.
"Yes? Who are you?"
"My name is Bond, James Bond. I am an agent of the British Government, and have been asked to relay a request for a meeting."
"Who with and regarding what?"
"Sir Basil Covington, a high ranking member of Britain's MI5, the equivalent of your FBI."
"Regarding…?"
"A matter of mutual interest, I was told. I was also informed that the ICSW would not be informed by him, and that Miss Newman was under no threat at all. I believe the phrase he used regarding detaining her was 'absolutely out of the question'. Anything else?"
"That it must be of great importance to have the most successful double-0 in your… "Xander's eye flicked around them "…parent organisation to act as a messenger. Excellent job with that satellite by the way. When and where?"
Bond's eyes flickered slightly as he wondered how Xander knew about that.
"Three days, Cardiff city centre."
"We'll think about it."
"Excellent. From what I've heard, we all owe you more than we can repay. But your file says you dislike praise, so I'll bid you a good day." With that, he was gone.
23/03/04 / Los Angeles - USA
There was a knock at the door. While the Centre had been hunting, an unexpected knock had Jarod double-check his security and possibly climb out the window. Now, after the Centre had been dissolved, due in no small part to himself, he merely checked that whoever was at the door wasn't a known bad guy. He wasn't.
"Jarod McNally?"
"Who wants to know?"
"My name is Jack Ryan. I'm an…"
"Analyst for the CIA, recently you defused a potential Nuclear War arising from the terrorist attack in Denver. You've been knighted by the Queen of England for services rendered regarding an IRA plot. You've yet to tell your girlfriend about your job. Hmm, what do want with me?"
"H, How did you know that!" stammered Jack.
Jarod grinned.
"You mean you don't know? Interesting. What do you want with me?"
"You've been invited to a meeting in Cardiff, three days from now. It's with…"
"Sir Basil Covington."
"How do you do that?"
"Your only contact in Britain who has the pull to get you off normal duties to deliver this invite. Elementary really."
"Uh, while the invite is from him, the directive that I be the one to deliver it came from our own Justice Department."
"Fascinating." Jarod cocked his head to one side as he began to 'sim' what could cause this. "hmm…"
"Unless there's anything else?" asked Ryan.
"Nothing, just ask your superiors to pass on my regards to Mr Trilby."
"Uh, Sure. Are you going to come to the meeting?"
"I think I will. I'll make my own arrangements, goodbye."
"Goodbye, Mr McNally."
24/03/04 / Croft Manor
"Lady Croft, there is a gentleman calling for you."
"Thank you Hillary, I'll be there directly."
"Excellent, I have directed him to the smoking room."
"Does he smoke?"
"I don't know milady. I thought to give him the option. Do you require anything else?"
"No thank you Hillary."
As Lady Lara Croft, Tomb Raider extraordinaire, made her way to the 'Smoking room', she wondered who would be dropping by unannounced. Most wanting her to retrieve an artefact phoned ahead, if only to make certain she was available. Opening the door, she suddenly smiled widely.
"James!"
"Hello Lara. Pleased to see me?"
"Of course I am!" Lara strode forward and hugged him tightly. "I haven't seen you since that business in Tibet."
Bond returned the hug. "Well, well, well. Lara Croft all grown up and causing international incidents. MI6 used a lot of favours covering you during that business with the Illuminati."
"Good for them. I just hope you didn't use any of your personal 'solids' to help me out."
"None I would miss. Lara, M wants payback on the pull she used."
"I told her predecessor, and I'll tell her. I am not a spy."
"That's not what she wants."
"Oh?" Lara was intrigued, due to her connections around the world, it seemed that half the intelligence agencies in the world considered her a potential asset.
"She says that if you attend one meeting, with Sir Basil Covington in two days, in Cardiff, the slate will be wiped clean. She also said that if you chose not to go, then she intends to recruit you, whether you wish to be recruited or not."
"James, I'm appalled that you're involved in this, this blackmail. Those Illuminati scum were this close to obtaining an artefact which would have given them the ability to rule the world! I stopped them, and now I'm being threatened with forced conscription?"
"I advised M against this, but she's adamant that either you go to this meeting, or you become an agent of MI6. I'm sorry. And for the record, she's my boss, so I have to do what she tells me in cases like this. I would offer to guarantee your safety, but I think you'd be safe enough anyway. You could probably handle any security or trap yourself, with Harris there…"
"Harris?"
"Damn. This is off the record, understood. No-one can find out you know this from me."
"Acceptable, if it's accurate."
"Lara, it's me." Bond grinned. "Has your research covered 'Le Boca del Inferno?"
"Sure. A supposed portal to Hell, capable of ending the world etc. etc. If the texts can be believed, one tenth of the dangerous occult artefacts in the world reside within ten klicks of it, but no-one knows where it is. Relevance?"
"We, MI6, know where it was."
"Was? It's a fixed point. It can't get up and wander away!"
"You've seen more than most, so at the risk of sounding crazy, I'll ask. Do you know that Vampires exist?"
"With the Watchers spouting off about them to everyone at every party they get drunk at…"
"You're more informed than even I thought." Bond said with a grin. "The Hellmouth attracted them in huge numbers. A chosen warrior…"
"The Slayer."
Bond raised an eyebrow "…indeed, was there to fight them. Along the way, she gained allies. With these allies, she eventually closed the Hellmouth, resulting in the collapse of Sunnydale."
"The gateway to hell was in Southern California under a town called 'Sunnydale'?" Lara asked, incredulous."
"I believe that it was in fact beneath Sunnydale High School."
"Wow."
"Well, one of her allies has broken with her recently. It must have been important. He was there from beginning to end, seven years of fighting, from Sophomore year to the closing of the Hellmouth and beyond. His name is Alexander Harris, and he'll be at the meeting. Bug's we've planted in the Watchers meeting areas suggest that he is quite possibly a) the bravest man alive, b) a total loony, or c) both. He is however, an accomplished fighter and effectively a White Knight. If things went nasty, not that I expect them to, He'd back you up, and possibly back the government down."
"An American kid is going to stare down the British Government!"
"Why not, he did it to Angelus." Lara's mouth went dry at the infamous name.
"How…!"
"I'm afraid I don't have the time. I have another to convince to attend. Lara, I'm almost certain no-one at the meeting will intend you harm. Goodbye." Bond leant in and kissed her cheek
"Goodbye James."
As Bond let himself out, he half turned.
"Oh Lara."
"Yes James?"
"Ask him about the Mayor's Ascension, he enjoys that story. Try not to stare at the eye patch, it's real." With that, Bond turned away and slid into his Q-customised Austin-Martin DB-9.
"Eye patch!"
25/03/04 / Outside the Colorado Springs FBI office
"Why am I here again?" Jack asked himself. It was a rhetorical question. Whoever had called him had the Sarge's unconditional trust. Jack, before the whole 'teenaged-body' thing, had met Sergeant Mack Bolan exactly twice. Once before the incident with Charlie, once after. Both times Bolan had saved his life. The first from a member of the Yakuza who he'd insulted. The second was when Jack had stopped caring. Sara was gone, Charlie was, dead, and he was alone. He hadn't ate for a week. Bolan had dropped in (literally, down the chimney!) to straighten him out. It hadn't been pleasant, but afterwards Jack was functioning again, if barely. Then Bolan said;
Several years ago
"I've read your file. All of it. You're a man who's been to hell and back, but you never brought it home to trouble your family. You're a man to trust. If you ever need me, call this number and say 'twenty-twenty-alpha'. It'll reach me and I'll come as fast as I can. If I ever contact you and don't say it, you're in trouble and need to get out. If someone you don't know mentions me and the code, I trust them as well. Goodbye Jack, it'll be a while before I see you again." With that, Bolan had left, a puzzled Jack behind him.
Present
"Jack Lazarus?"
"Yes?"
"Mr Brognola is expecting you inside."
As Jack made his way inside, he passed a pair of FBI Special Agents.
"Mulder, once again this is a wild goose chase. Aliens in Colorado Springs, where would they hide?" despaired the red-head.
"Cheer up Scully, I'm sure… huh?"
"What?"
As Jack walked further away, he barely heard the man, Mulder, say;
"That kid looks familiar, plus he looks far too young to have a meeting in there…"
Keeping alert, Jack followed the directions to 'Mr Brognola's' office. Entering, he instinctively swept the room for threats, finding only the man seated behind the desk.
"Hal Brognola, I presume."
"Indeed Mr Lazarus. While I am certain that we are not monitored right now, please keep your unusual, origins, quiet for now."
"Yeah sure, you betcha." Jack grinned.
"Oh no." muttered Brognola. "Another smartass. Oh well." He squared his shoulders. "Mr Lazarus, due to your all too rare talents and experience, I would like you to join a newly forming organisation, labelled the PPC, for the purposes of saving the world."
"Really?" Jack sat up.
"Really. A group is being assembled to confront many of the dangers which plague this world. Not the Goa'uld I'm afraid, but we do have our own line of murderous parasites. Plus assorted threats, some you're familiar with, some you're not."
"Does this have anything to do with the SGC?"
"No. While the SGC is a valuable resource and an reliable command, it only has minor links to this operation, mainly the odd SG team member who knows of some of the stuff you'll be facing."
"And they haven't told their superior officers about a threat to the world because…?"
"Jack, do you remember the paperwork regarding the 'DRI', or Demon Research Initiative?"
"Oh shit."
"You do, Good. While there is an international combat team working under the auspices of the UN to deal with supernatural threats, there are circumstances in which they, as a covert force, cannot be involved with. The recent disappearance/reappearance of the sun in LA for instance. This new team will be almost entirely autonomous, for a period we predict to be no more than ten years. This is so they can deal with threats which require an overt presence without leading back to us. We need people we can trust to staff it. You were suggested as open-minded enough to accept the truth and trustworthy enough to entrust with several billion dollars and no oversight."
"Whoa. Who's the other guys you're getting in on this?"
"For the core group? Who know who the initial backers are?"
"Yep."
"Four others. If you're interested, you can come to a meeting with them which I myself am attending. They are quite a colourful bunch."
"I'm in, for the sales pitch at least. If I don't like what I hear, I walk."
"Agreed. Would you like me to provide transportation, or will you arrange your own."
"Officially, I'm not even allowed to drive, what do you think?"
"I'll have someone collect you at six this evening. See you there."
"Bye." With that, Jack left, a bounce in his step which hadn't been there for some time.
26/03/04 / Cardiff - Wales / Morning
There was an insistent knocking at the door. The sole occupant of the house dragged himself to his feet, staggered across the room and downed some old, cold, coffee. Pulling on a dressing gown, he made his way to the front door, then opening it.
"Yes?"
"Mr James Herbert Chase?"
"Indeed."
"Formerly Lamont Cranston…"
"I beg your pardon!"
"…operating under the moniker 'The Shadow' and responsible for certain activities in the nature of a vigilante?"
"I'm afraid you are under a misapprehension sir. I…"
"Mr Cranston, elements of her Majesty's government are well aware of your activities. Under ordinary circumstances, we would leave you be. However, recent events require us to assemble a group of, unique, individuals to combat threats the world over."
"Look, who are you?"
"Bond, James Bond."
"Well, if I'm supposed to be this, ah, 'Shadow' character, why wouldn't I, say, You are mistaken. There is no Shadow, you may go about your business?"
Bond blinked, then smiled slightly.
"You really are very good. Almost got by the psychic dampers Q put together. Relax Mr Cranston, you are in no trouble. I'm just here to escort you to a meeting with the other 'unique' individuals. What you do afterwards is up to you."
Cranston glared at Bond.
"I suppose I have no choice."
"Excellent, lets go."
"Go where?"
"To the future, Mr Cranston. Where else could we go?"
26/03/04 / Cardiff - Wales / Afternoon
As each person arrived, they took a seat in front of a table with three chairs behind it.
Lamont Cranston was the first to arrive. Taking a seat near the back, he was surprised to see Bond exit the room, leaving him alone.
Next to appear was Jack Lazarus, accompanied by Mr Brognola. He took a seat which, while close to the door, allowed him to surreptitiously study Cranston. Brognola meanwhile, took one of the three seats behind the desk.
Next entered Xander and Cassandra, talking animatedly about whittling techniques and where was the best place to get a good sword these days. Jack studied them, wondering why someone choosing to wear an eye-patch was considered trustworthy. Cranston reached out with his mind, trying to get an insight into the new arrivals. His intrusion was obviously noticed, given the scowl on Xander's face.
As he scowled at Cranston, Lara Croft entered. Glancing around, she then headed directly towards Xander.
"Good Afternoon. My name is Lara Croft. I was told you knew the former location of the Hellmouth, would you care to reveal it?"
"I recognised you. Xander Harris. And no. There are too many dangerous things lying around there to send anyone to it."
Jack's eyes widened. Xander Harris, the long-time ally of the Slayer! He'd been there to save the world as many times as Jack himself! But why the eye-patch?
Lamont's jaw dropped. Hellmouth, the Tulku had spoken of such, centres of evil that drew the undead to them. This child knew where it was!
"Oh well, can't blame a girl for trying. Do you have any war stories you'd care to share? I was told you enjoy remembering the, uh, Mayor's Ascension?"
Xander grinned. "Ah, the joys of blowing up your High School for fully justified reasons."
"Cool." exclaimed Jack.
"It was, it was. Now, as myself and Lady Croft…"
"How'd you know?"
"I recognised you from your file photo, it doesn't do you justice. Now, we've both introduced ourselves, how about you two?"
"Jack Lazarus."
"Mind telling me what a high school aged guy, with a name relating to returning to life, is doing here?"
Jack was torn. His status as a clone, and how this came to be, were highly classified. In the end, he decided upon caution.
"When we know each other a little better. I'll say this though, I'm older than I look."
"OK. And you sir?"
"Lamont Cranston. Were you bullied into this as well?"
"What? No. We…"
"Who is this lovely lady?"
"…were invited. Cass?"
"Cassandra Newman. Why were you bullied…"
Before the conversation could get any further, the doors opened once more, admitting two gentlemen in suits. One had an eye-patch, both were grey haired.
"Spence. Sir Basil." greeted Brognola.
"As Mr McNally seems to have decided not to join us…"
"But I'm right here."
Everyone whipped round to stare at a chair they'd thought unoccupied. Sitting in it was Jarod 'McNally' (for now at least.)
"How, How'd he get there!" gasped Jack, he'd been certain there were only the five (Brognola, Lamont, Xander, Cassandra and Lara) plus himself. Somehow this guy had got past him!
"A point we'll cover. Gentlemen, Ladies, now that we are all here, let us begin…"
Thought you guys deserved a longer chapter. How's this shaping up? Oh, by the way, pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease review. See you next time for the next exciting instalment of
'The Paladin Provision'