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.
"Excuse me?" Sylia raised an eyebrow.
"You heard me," Anri growled, surprising both Sylia and Sylvie with the heat in her voice. "I want to join the Knight Sabers."
"Anri..." Sylvie began.
"Perhaps you'd care to elaborate?" Sylia said coolly, cutting Sylvie off.
Anri took a deep breath and said, "You can use an asset like me. As a 33-S, I contain C-series components, components which allow a superior interface with combat mecha. I'm somewhat stronger and faster than a human, and I can take more punishment. Also, my... other components -- as well as my non-existent past here on Earth -- make me ideal for undercover work."
"I see," was Sylia's even reply. "And why do you want to be a Knight Saber?"
WHAM!
Sylia and Sylvie both started when Anri slammed her fist through the coffee table. She snarled, "I refuse to be helpless again!" Her voice became ragged as she continued, "I've spent... my whole life... as a victim." She looked at Sylvie and whispered, "Even after we escaped, I was helpless. I needed you and Xander to save me." She whirled toward Sylia and announced, "Not anymore. Make me a Knight Saber, or I'll find another way to be strong."
Sylia wondered what other ways Anri had considered. The possibilities ranged from the relatively benign -- joining the AD Police, for example -- to the downright terrifying... like stealing another battlemover.
"I'll consider it," she said finally. "We'll test you at Raven's tomorrow. Eight PM. Don't be late."
"Nice wheels," Terry noted, eyeing Priss's bike appreciatively.
"Thanks," she said warily.
"Priss, Batman. Terry, Saber Blue," Xander introduced them with a straight face... that didn't last long.
He grinned as Terry sputtered and Priss gaped at him. If looks could kill, the furious glare that quickly replaced the shock on Priss's face would have been enough to melt steel.
Luckily, Xander was used to such looks from females, so he shrugged it off without a second thought, "So, we good?"
Priss shot one last glower at him before turning to size up the teenager. He wasn't really all that much younger than her. Probably around seventeen, a mere two years younger. Of course, as was often said, it wasn't the years, it was the mileage, and considering the crap she'd been through...
But then again, this guy was Batman. If anyone was likely to understand, it was him.
She decided to go back to the earlier topic, before the bakayarou -- Xander -- had interrupted. Stroking the top of her motorcycle, she said, "She's not stock. I've had a lot of work done on her."
"I noticed," Terry said. He walked around the bike, giving it a closer look, "Pity, though."
"What?"
"I've seen your suit," he scoffed. "No one who wears heels to a fight could possibly be a serious biker."
Xander groaned and shook his head. Open mouth. Insert foot.
Priss glared at Terry, "First, I don't design the suits; Sylia does. Second, I'm a better biker than you'll ever be."
"Oh, yeah?" Terry shot back. "Prove it."
"Fine," she snapped. "I dare you to ride the Highway Star."
"'Highway Star'?" Xander frowned. "Isn't that Mackie's experiment? The seven hundred horsepower monster? I heard you wrecked that thing, Priss. Twice, even."
Priss punched him in the face.
"You didn't have to hit me that hard," Xander grumbled as he held the tissue pressed against his bloodied nose.
"I said I was sorry!" Priss protested. "Anyway, I thought you were the big hotshot veteran," she snarled. "Why didn't you dodge it or something?"
"You caught me off-guard," he shrugged. "You're not a demon, it was daylight, and then you punch me in the face with no warning."
"You've spent the whole morning trying to piss me off, and you're surprised I hit you?" she sputtered in disbelief.
"Hey, you started this," he glowered. "I'd never do anything like that to Anri, and you know it, or you'd have been gunning after me in your hardsuit."
"And this is a guy whose job is to save the world," Terry deadpanned, shaking his head. "It's a wonder we're all still alive."
"Hey!"
Whump!
Terry groaned as he lay in a heap. He had had a feeling that he would regret taking Mr. Wayne's suggestion and asking Xander to teach him a few tricks of the trade. He was right. The quips at Xander's expense probably hadn't helped.
After a quick rundown on what works and what doesn't against vampires and some generalities on common hostile demon species, they had hit the mats.
Or, more precisely, Terry had hit the mats. Again and again. And again.
And then, after a while, he was sure that the mats were hitting him back while Xander was still bouncing on his toes like Matt on a sugar high.
There is no way I'm telling Max about this... he thought.
Xander offered him a hand up, and Terry warily accepted it. One of the first lessons Bruce had taught him in hand to hand was to always expect an attack; he'd driven the point home by offering him a hand up and then using the grip to apply leverage and send him flying again. While Xander didn't seem to play by those rules -- at least for now -- Terry wasn't about to let his guard down.
"Why don't you spar with Priss for a while?" Xander suggested once he'd helped Terry to his feet. "I'm gonna get some air. Try not to kill each other."
To the outside observer, the expression on Quincy's craggy face would have been inscrutable. Only someone who knew him very well would be able to see past the layers of iron control to the deep concern that lay beneath.
No such person existed.
The three who were present, however, could be said to be the ones who knew Quincy best, as they each held the coveted position of Special Assistant. The first was Katherine Madigan. The violet-haired woman had been a little... distracted... since the Largo incident, but she remained efficient at her duties and loyal to Genom, so Quincy was willing to overlook whatever personal issues had come up in her life... for now, at least.
The second was a tall, gaunt man with a sickly pallor to his skin. He looked almost like a walking corpse, but he projected a palpable aura of menace. His name was Victor Smith, and he was known to be cold, ruthless, and calculating. He allowed only one emotion to rule his actions; no other affected his decisions. That singular emotion was ambition. It was something Quincy would have to be wary of later, but Smith was no fool. He would continue to serve loyally, for in his view, what was good for Genom was good for him. He was no threat to Quincy... for now, at least.
The third was the newest to be granted the position of Special Assistant, promoted to it with the untimely demise of his predecessor at the hands of the Knight Sabers. He was an utterly nondescript man of average height and average weight, with brown hair and dark eyes. Unlike his colleagues -- or his predecessor, Brian J. Mason -- Andrew Jones was utterly forgettable. Which was just how he liked it. He had accepted the position reluctantly; he would have been more comfortable staying at his old position heading one of Genom's many small subsidiaries, but his initiative and quiet efficiency had garnered Quincy's attention, and he was not about to allow Jones's talents to continute to go to waste there. He had still not fully accepted his new position, but Quincy knew it was only a matter of time.
"Do we know the origin of this nanovirus?" Quincy asked.
"Not specifically, Mister Chairman," Madigan shook her head, "but the nanovirus was discovered in your android duplicate after the summit meeting."
"And its purpose?"
"Unknown, sir."
Quincy nodded. "Madigan, continue to head the investigation into the nature of the nanovirus. Smith, make sure no one leaves the city. If this nanovirus is harmful, we cannot allow it to spread. Jones, track down the representatives who were present at the summit. Find out who is responsible."
"Yes, Mister Chairman," they chorused.
"So, anyway," Xander said as he walked with Nene and Linna, "I left them to spar with each other when I went to fetch you two."
"You left them alone?" Nene blurted out in amazement. "They'll kill each other!"
"You really need to stop treating Priss like that, Uncle Xander," Linna said. "She's not a rogue Slayer."
"No, of course not," Xander nodded agreeably. "She's a biker."
Linna rolled her eyes.
"Not that the two are mutually exclusive," he continued, "but they do demand similiar measures." He quickened his pace and opened the door. He stared for a long moment, blinked twice, and closed the door. Turning back to Nene and Linna, he leaned against the door and said, "So, anyone up for pizza?"
Nene blinked in confusion as Linna, after a moment of thought, smirked, "Your treat?"
"Nah. I'll get Terry to spring for it."
"Sounds good to me."
The three of them were lazily eating their pizza when Priss and Terry emerged from the training room. They stopped in the doorway when they caught sight of the trio.
Linna smirked, "Have fun?"
"Uhh..." Terry stammered as both he and Priss flushed.
"I never knew sparring could get so... involved," Xander commented airily, shooting them both a knowing look.
Nene looked between the two pairs and wondered what the heck was going on.
Author's Postscript:
No hidden crossover this time, sorry. Last chapter's hidden crossover was not Robocop. The Omni from last chapter is Omni Co. Ltd. from Bubblegum Crash, not Robocop's Omni Consumer Products. Part two and three's hidden crossovers are two different crossovers.