Author: Cyclone
Feedback: Please be gentle.
Distribution: Gimme credit and a link.
Rating: Violence, harsh language, the usual.
Spoilers: Up to Chosen, Red Eye's, Possession, and Return of the Joker.
Disclaimer: The characters depicted herein belong to a bunch of other people. I'm just borrowing them for a while.
Summary: The fate of the human race hangs in the balance... again. Sequel to Fifth Knight and One Eye's.
Author's Note: Here we go.
The phone rang.
Xander bolted upright... or tried to, anyway. He blinked in surprise when he realized his right arm and half his body was pinned to the bed. A shock of deep green hair spread out across his chest nearly sent him into a panic until his short-term memory kicked in. He had sat with Anri on the edge of the bed, trying to console her, until she'd fallen asleep in his arms. Trying to set her down on the bed and leave had been a futile effort on his part, as she had unconsciously grabbed onto him with an almost vise-like grip, so he'd settled in and must have fallen asleep.
It was only when that last tendrils of sleep had finally fled him that he realized that the phone had stopped ringing a while ago. The bedroom door opened, and he looked up curiously. Sylvie slipped in, an amused smile crossing her face as he shook his head and pointed at Anri in denial of what it had to look like.
"It's for you," Sylvie whispered, handing him the handset. She turned and left, adding what had to be a deliberate sway to her hips on her way out.
Xander groaned and awkwardly brought the handset to his ear. "Xander's House of Resurrections," he quipped. "Fifty percent off if you bring the body at time of purchase."
Pause.
"Willow? Do you have any idea what time it is here?"
Pause.
"No, Will, she's just a friend who needed a place to crash."
Pause.
"I am not equipping an army of boomers, demons, or any combination thereof. What on Earth made you think I was doing something that crazy?"
Pause.
"Rally told you about that?"
Pause.
"Oh, she called to double-check the programming."
Pause.
"I know I'd break my shoulder trying to fire that monster, Will. It was just a hypothetical exercise. It's not like I actually asked her to build it, now, did I?"
Pause.
"Well, there ya go," he said triumphantly. "I'm serious, Will. I was telling the truth: I ran into Linna, and when the whole situation was dealt with, I decided to take a long vacation and reconnect with her."
Pause.
"Okay, so maybe there is a bit more to it than that, but it's nothing you need to worry about, okay? Nothing apocalyptic, I promise. You can ask Linna if you don't believe me. Listen, since you're on the line already, could you do a search of the Council records for me? Check for Slayers that might be in MegaTokyo."
Pause.
"I know we don't have any active Slayers here, Will. I'm looking for known bound Slayers. I ran into one a while back. She was hurt pretty bad, and I unbound her so the Slayer healing could kick in."
Pause.
"The damn building collapsed on her is what happened. You heard about the terrorists who hijacked the USSD sats?"
Pause.
"Yeah, she got caught in the crossfire."
Pause.
"Thanks, Will."
Xander yawned as he stretched and clambered out of bed. This time, he had woken up naturally, and Anri was no longer sleeping half on top of him. He yawned again and shuffled out into the living room of the apartment.
He stopped dead when he saw the three people sitting out there.
Anri was half curled up in his La-Z-Boy, Priss was sitting backwards in one of the folding chairs, and Sylvie was perched on the couch arm.
Anri was blushing furiously, while Priss and Sylvie were grinning like the Cheshire cat.
"What?"
"Rise and shine, lover boy," Priss's grin broadened. "I hear you didn't get much sleep last night."
"Huh?"
"You know," Sylvie teased.
Xander blinked as his half-asleep brain tried to process that, "Hey, I was just trying to comfort her, right, Anri?"
Anri nodded.
"Suuure," Priss said. "And you just thought you'd look good with red lipstick?"
"'Lipstick'?" Xander repeated dumbly. He reached up and wiped his mouth with his sleeve. Staring at the red smear, he blinked, "Huh."
Priss scowled, "You're no fun. You're supposed to be indignant and denying everything loudly."
He looked at her and cocked an eyebrow. "Maybe I would be if I were, y'know, awake," he said, dead serious. As he puttered around with the coffee maker, he asked, "What are you doing here, anyway, Priss?"
"Didn't Sylia tell you?" she frowned. "There's some guy she wants you to introduce us to. Linna's got her aerobics class, and Nene's on morning shift today, so it's just the two of us."
"Oh, right," Xander muttered. "Terry. Forgot. Gimme a half hour, and we can go. Anri wanted a ride to Sylia's, so we'll stop there first. What about you, Sylvie?"
"I'll go with Anri."
"Chairman Bradley offers his apologies, Mister Quincy, but he has fallen ill and is unable to attend," the vice president of Gulf & Bradley bowed apologetically.
"I understand," Quincy rumbled in reply. "Send him my condolences."
Bruce Wayne watched the gathering with eyes that remained sharp despite his age. The years spent as Gotham City's nocturnal guardian had given him an uncanny ability to read people. The G&B VP was vastly out of his league, though the company he represented was certainly one of the top players present.
The Xanatos Enterprises contingent -- David Xanatos; his son, Alexander; and their personal assistant, Owen Burnett -- were all veterans of the game. Bruce saw an equal, of sorts, in the elder Xanatos. The man was clearly not one who was afraid to take a personal hand in things, and they had crossed paths many times before. Burnett moved with a level of competent efficiency that suggested he was born for the job.
Bruce's own Wayne-Powers rounded out the quartet of major players at the table.
Dominique Destine III was much harder to read. Some of her body language was downright alien, even to Bruce's broad experience, but one thing he did realize was that, whatever else she was, she was a fighter. She also seemed to hold a degree of well-controlled contempt for the others here, which intrigued Bruce, considering that Nightstone Unlimited's net value meant she was a small fish in a very big pond.
Alistair Cromwell -- here on behalf of Omni and its new partner, Zone Corporation -- was wisely holding his cards close to his chest. While he represented enough assets to theoretically challenge the four larger corporations present, the reality was far from that. Omni and Zone's partnership was a recent affair, one that was still plagued with enough internal conflicts to make them effectively a non-player.
There were a few other minor players represented, but they were easily dismissed. Quincy's focus was on the others, and Bruce's focus was on Quincy, though Ms. Destine's peculiar body language had earned his attention. He had given Terry the day off. The young man's brashness was the last thing he needed here.
"The reason I have invited you here," Quincy spoke quietly, his voice demanding attention, "was to consider the current state of affairs within the boomer and robotics fields. However, to be perfectly blunt, the recent terrorist hijacking of the USSD satellites and subsequent destruction of Genom property has altered the situation slightly, and we have suffered a considerable setback."
Someone gasped in surprise, but Bruce didn't pay attention to who it might have been. For Genom to admit weakness was rare enough. For Quincy himself to this open about it was mind-boggling.
"Because of these setbacks," Quincy continued, "several of Genom's projects will have to either be shut down, delayed, or find alternative resources. Each of you here represents a corporation capable of providing those resources, and Genom is now willing to offer certain business arrangements with you."
Quincy must be desperate. The smaller companies were probably doomed to be absorbed into Genom if they agreed, but to offer partnerships to corporations like Xanatos Enterprises and Wayne-Powers, corporations powerful enough to rival Genom, was a huge gamble on Quincy's part, one that could easily backfire.
Bruce wasn't all that surprised. He'd seen first-hand what those particle beam satellites could do when Joker had hijacked one mere months ago. That someone with a vendetta against Genom had managed to tap into the entire network and destroyed three Genom Towers around the world... even a conservative estimate of the damage ranged into the hundreds of billions.
It was an odd convoy. An old, rusting, full-size van with blackened windows and a brushguard trundled along with a high performance racing motorcycle. The annoyance from the biker was palpable, as she frequently got ahead of the van and then had to slow down for it to catch up.
Finally, they arrived, and Priss glared at Xander. "Did you have to drive ten clicks below the speed limit?" she demanded sourly.
"In this clunker?" he shot back. "Of course!"
"That's bullshit!" Priss snarled. "I've seen you cranking that rust bucket over two hundred!"
"You saw a van that looks like mine going over two hundred, that's all," he said innocently. "Surely, it's just a case of mistaken identity. After all, the license plates certainly don't match, or Nene would have mentioned it, wouldn't she?"
Priss glowered.
"Stay here," he said. "I'm heading a few blocks over, and you'd look a little out of place at the Saint Regis in those biking leathers."
"The Saint Regis Hotel?" Priss blinked. "Who is this guy?"
"His boss is something a high-roller," Xander explained, "and he's footing the bill." He reached in and hung a camera by a strap around his neck. "How do I look?"
Priss took in the painfully bright orange and yellow Hawaiian print shirt, the khaki shorts, the sunglasses, and the wide-brimmed hat. The camera just completed the image. "Like a tourist with more money than sense. Why the disguise?"
Xander shrugged, "Never hurts to practice, and besides, it's less hassle this way."
At the Ladys 633 building, another pair greeted the owner. Leaving Mackie to man the Silky Doll's counter, Sylia invited Anri and Sylvie to the privacy of her apartment, the very same room that hosted Knight Saber meetings.
"So, what brings you two here?" she asked. "Have there been any problems with your new identities?"
Sylvie shrugged and looked pointedly at Anri, who was fidgeting and staring at the floor.
"Anri?" Sylia prompted gently.
Finally, clenching her fists, Anri looked up and met Sylia's gaze, surprising her with the fiery determination in her eyes.
"I want to join the Knight Sabers."
Author's Postscript:
Sorry, folks, but neither Iron Man nor Gargoyles is the hidden crossover. Iron Man technically isn't even a crossover in this 'fic, as in this 'verse, Iron Man is a comic book character, and Gargoyles is far from hidden.
Can you spot the hidden crossover in this chapter?