Surprise! Your Mother is a Witch! No, a REAL Witch!
Finally, just as she was approaching her own front porch, Buffy decided to give up on analyzing for tonight and just focus on patrol and killing some demon and undead ass. At least that was her plan right up to the moment that she actually opened her front door.
"Buffy Anne Summers," her mother, Joyce Summers, called with an imperious tone the moment she stepped through the front door. By the tone alone, Buffy knew she was either in trouble or very soon was going to be.
Wincing as she shut the door, she turned to face her mother in the living room. Not surprising, her mother was standing there with her fists on her hips, righteous scowl on her face, and an intimidating glare that she often tried to mimic when fighting vamps. Unfortunately, she still couldn't pull it off as well as her own mother could.
"Uh . . . yeah Mom?" the younger Summers finally replied.
"We need to talk," the elder Summers said back, and then pointed to the couch.
Frowning, as this was not the usual way conversations where she got into trouble started, she did as bid and looked up at her mother. Thankfully, the intimidating glare had faded into one more of parental concern combined with a guilty-self look that she recognized from the few times that her mother had wanted to have a "talk" with her, but was not going to be punished, at least not yet.
"First things first. I know you are the Slayer, and honestly, I don't care about that. I'm more concerned with the fact that you've chosen to try and keep it a secret from me, as well as something that happened on Halloween, which I /know/ something happened, because it happened to me, and I am sure happened to you too," Joyce Summers said, effectively shattering Buffy Summers' entire world.
"Huh . . . uh . . . wha . . ." was all the mutant Slayer could say.
"I was invited to a Halloween party at a friend's of mine. It was rather last minute, so I had hardly any time at all to go and find a costume. When I asked Xander where he'd gotten his and the rest of yours, he told me, and the moment you were out the door, I raced to that shop, Ethan's, and I bought one of the last costumes he had. It was rather funny really, and I'm sure you don't even remember the TV show, but . . ."
Having gotten over her shock, Buffy quickly put the pieces together with what her mother had been saying. Ethan's, again. Her mother had dressed up in a costume, and now had the leftovers, whatever those might be from whatever costume. It would also explain how she could possibly know about her being the Slayer and all of the supernatural all of a sudden, with almost no prior warning.
"Mom," she tried to interrupt, speaking louder and louder till she was shouting, "Mom! MOM!"
Joyce stopped speaking and looked down at her daughter. Buffy quickly stood up and took a deep, calming breath. "What costume did you dress up in Mom?" she asked calmly.
"Well, like I was saying, it was an old TV show and it was . . ."
"MOM!"
With a sigh, and sagging her shoulders in defeat, Joyce answered, "I dressed up as Samantha's mother from the old TV show Bewitched. I dressed as Endora." As she said this, she made a rather dramatic wave of her hands, and instantly, just like that, she was suddenly dressed much differently. Her hair, which was much redder than it normally was, like henna had been added to it, done up in curls that made her look more like she was wearing a crown, and wearing a beautiful green silk dress, which actually looked more like a set of robes than just any ordinary dress. What was more, she seemed to have gone to town with her mascara, the dark lines around the woman's eyes giving her an almost evil-look.
Buffy stood there, stiff as a board for several long seconds, and then, with no other warning, her eyes rolled up in her head and she fainted.
P.O.V. Switch
Xander was stoked.
There was no other, or better, word for it. He was stoked.
In fact, he'd been 'stoked' for the better part of two weeks, ever since the morning after Halloween night. It was all he could do during most days just to keep the grin from splitting his head open like a sliced grapefruit. Disturbing imagery come to think of it.
He knew it was getting to the others, the way he was so excited over everything that had happened, while they were all worried and concerned about consequences and things like that. Especially Cordelia. She'd been strangely . . . not-Cordelia-like these past couple of weeks.
Willow seemed to have embraced the situation as a whole, just without his enthusiasm for it. Buffy was coping and handling it, but given that her power was, with a possible exception on his own part, and maybe Cordelia's, the most destructive out of all of theirs, he understood her reluctance. Although the way she'd gotten so cautious of almost every little thing they all did was starting to chafe him a little. It reminded him of when Cyclops and the Professor . . .
Xander stopped and slapped his palm to his forehead. There he went again, confusing his own memories with Bobby's. Remembering that, he grinned as he also recalled that, unlike the others, he didn't have Memory Flashes. His and Robert Drakes personalities, it seemed, were so alike that it was like their memories had merged instead of just put side-by-side in the same head.
What kind of confused Xander, though, about Bobby's memories, was how unbelievably immature and truly childish the young mutant had been. Xander understood the need for a joke here and there, and even some harmless pranks. Hell, he even followed with the 'class clown' shtick. But where Xander, and every other class clown in the world turned pranking and joking into an art form, Bobby Drake had turned it into his lifestyle.
There was not one day that the kid wasn't joking around, goofing off, or playing pranks on his fellow X-men. Even during crisis times, though not during actual missions, and serious moments, Bobby was joking, goofing, or /thinking/ about jokes and pranks to pull. The only time Iceman had been truly and really serious was during missions, and when he went out on dates with mature women. And even then, his dates still thought of him as the goof ball prankster kid.
Xander understood and even believed in the need for jokes, but he also understood the need for seriousness and attention during a crisis. The night that Buffy had almost died came to mind first and foremost. The night he'd almost lost his virginity to a giant Preying Mantis demon came second most.
Boy, what he wouldn't have given to have powers on either of those nights. Or any dozen of others. Speaking of which, that reminded Xander of another difference he'd noticed between him and Bobby. Their powers.
Supposedly, their powers were the same, Xander getting his from Bobby after all. And while visually and commercially Xander found that he did indeed have the same powers "Iceman" was supposed to have, he'd discovered that he actually had a few abilities that were not in the cartoon shows or the comic books. And at the same time he found that, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't even do a variation off some of the things that Iceman /had/ done in some of the comics.
Turning /into/ "Iceman" and back again wasn't a problem. Even his clothes were dry after he'd "thawed out", as he like to think of it. He could even do it in different ways, either the ice block, like from the older cartoon shows, or from the more recent ones and comic books, he could just will himself to change, and just like that, with a wave of blue ice energy, he was Iceman.
He could also generate cold, make ice out of nothing, and absorb heat from any nearby object, just the same as it was described and demonstrated in cartoons and comics. Ice bridges worked the same too, though they tended to be more ice slides.
What he couldn't do, yet he hoped, was control and manipulate ice the same way Iceman could. Bobby . . . Iceman could make figurines, statues, almost anything out of ice and then control it in someway, even though there'd been one comic where it explained that, when he'd made a "living" "moving" chess set, the ice wasn't actually moving, he was just continuously freezing it over and over on a microsecond-by-nanosecond basis. Or something like that. Iceman could also control the very movement of molecules around him. Once in fact, Xander had read that he'd made everything around him for an entire mile reach Absolute Zero, meaning no molecular movement at all.
Obviously, Xander couldn't do that.
However, he had discovered something very interesting, and not something that the creators of Iceman had just left out of published material, but still implied as something the mutant could do. Xander . . . could /see/ heat waves. And not the blurry air that you see on a hot summer day when a car goes by in the desert. He saw it all the time, streaks, fumes, waves, pulses, whatever they were, of reddish light coming off of things. Most of the time it was people or the ground, at school it was like walking through a haze of red mist, only it never really affected his true vision. It was more like it was layered either over top or underneath of the way he normally saw. It was really cool when he saw that instead of that red mist coming off of him, like everybody else, he saw it being sucked into his body.
It also kind of helped him identify vampires, he had noted.
"You think they'd learned by now," Xander chuckled quietly to himself as he recognized above noted vampires stalking towards him. He didn't even bother with turning into Iceman or with any cool speeches, just hitting each with a "Freeze Ball", which had the instantaneous effect of freezing them solid like they'd just been dumped into a vat of Liquid Nitrogen.
/That/ was another ability that he knew Iceman didn't have. Whenever Iceman froze somebody, even with lethal results, which Xander demonstrated as he casually knocked off the vamp-cycles' heads, he did it with a beam or some kind of blast of pure cold. He didn't throw a snowball at them or even just look at them wrong and then BAM, they were ice statues that broke on contact.
But really, Xander was discovering, that was all it took for him. He'd be looking at something across the room, a piece of paper, a poster on the wall, or even a pencil, and the moment he stopped staring he noticed that the object was frosty and looked like it'd been carved out of snow.
So that lead him to developing the 'Freeze Ball'. It wasn't even the size of a golf ball really, but it was made up of the same bluish ice energy that he shot out whenever he wanted to make a lot of ice, and then he threw it like a snowball or something and whatever it hit, hit bare degrees above Absolute Zero, freezing solid.
Out of nowhere, Xander was snapped out of his reverie, a crash from a nearby alley alerting him of trouble. Running quickly, Xander quickly caught sight of more than a dozen figures at the end of the dead-end alley. With only a glance he could tell that most were vampires, save for two at the exact center of the mass, which were generating a surprising amount of heat to his 'cold vision'. Huh, he'd come up with a name for it on the spot . . . despite agonizing a name for it for more than a week already.
Making a quick decision, Xander transformed into Iceman, foregoing the ice block routine in light of the fact that two people's lives were in imminent danger.
Gathering Freeze Balls in each of his hands, only able to make one for each hand so far, Xander stepped into the mouth of the valley and shouted at the top of his lungs, "HEY DEAD BEATS! TRY MESSING WITH SOMEBODY YOUR SAME BODY TEMP!"
It certainly got their attention as all of the Baker's Dozen turned to him and growled, their yellow eyes actually glowing in the night.
With a wry grin, Xander just chucked out his two Freeze Balls, creating more to replace them the moment they were airborne. Two vamps at the front, with no more warning than the balls of blue light hitting their chests, were flash frozen in an instant.
The other vamps, confused by this, reached out to check on their comrades. At the first hint of a vibration against them, they cracked and crumbled into shattered melting pieces of dusty ice.
Realizing the danger they were now presented with, the vamps did the first thing that all vamps do in such a situation. They mindlessly attacked the threat.
Iceman, unfortunately, had been counting on them doing the /second/ thing vamps do when in such a situation, which was run away scared shitless.
Backing up in startled fright, Iceman panicked and cast out his remaining Freeze Balls, taking the odds down to 9 vampires against 1 potential-Omega Class, unexperienced, untrained mutant teenager.
Bet on the boy.
The first five reached him almost as one, two going for his arms, another two for his upper torso, probably his neck his adrenalized mind conjured, and another one for his legs, driving him to his knees.
"I got his arm! I got his arm!" cried one of the one on his left arm.
"AAAAARRRRRRRRRRAAAAGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" Xander suddenly screamed as a terrible jolt of pain the likes of which he never could have imagined tore through his left arm.
"Whoa," the vamp that had spoken stepped back, sounding and looking shocked. And he had ample reason as he was holding in his hands Xander's iced left arm, up to past the elbow. Xander stared, dumbstruck, even as the terrible pain of his arm being ripped right off of him slowly faded. It was just like tearing an icicle off a roof or a car, he idly thought, his mind in numbed shock, until he felt another tearing pain, in his neck this time.
"Shit!" one of the other vampires pulled back suddenly, "This freak really is made of nothing but ice!"
"Lets eat him anyway," another commented back.
If there was one thing that Xander hated more than having his arm broken off and his neck bitten into, it was, surprisingly, being called a freak.
"What the...!" the first vamp cried out in alarm as the iced arm he'd been holding suddenly melted faster than reason could explain, right through his fingertips.
"HYYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHAAAAHHHHHHHH!" Iceman crouched low and screamed loud, his power erupting all around him.
A blue/white flash blinded all those in the alley, and when they could see again, Iceman, with only one arm, and cracks coming from holes in his neck, stood up. His eyes locked on to the vamp that had torn his arm off. The others had vanished after the light show, though their disappearance might explain the gray/white snow that was now falling around the young mutant.
Frozen more by fear than Iceman's powers, the vamp whimpered as the ice statue took a step in his direction.
Cracking sounds, like those you hear from an ice machine or when a frozen pond or lake is breaking apart, suddenly filled the small alley, sounding impossibly loud. It took everyone a moment to identify the source, but when the cracks in Iceman's body began to mend, and first shards, then whole icicles, and then a new arm began to grow back in place of the one that had been torn off, it became kind of obvious.
"THAT!" Xander/Iceman roared at the vamp once his arm was fully restored, "HURT!"
Suddenly, sharp-looking ice crystals formed all up and down Xander's entire left arm, which seemed to raise of its own accord in the general direction of the offending vamp.
It gulped in fear, then raised its hands in surrender and squeaked out, "Sorry?"
His face a mask of anger, Iceman's whole arm tensed, and then wave after wave, shot after shot of sharpened ice crystal spears were fired from his opened palm, each flying straight at the vamp at lethal speeds. Of course ice, even if its through the heart, won't kill a vampire, no matter how fast it's flying through the air, or through that vampire's body for that matter. However, a /LOT/ of ice, sharpened to razor edge points, without end, can be excruciatingly painful, even for a vampire. Even more so when all of that ice literally shreds its heart, most of its body, and if you get lucky, which Iceman most certainly was that night, enough of its neck to sever the head from the body, then that should be more than enough to make the vampire wish he were really dead, and then help him along quite nicely.
Only after he realized he was shooting ice spears into the alley wall did Xander finally stop and take stock of the situation again. There were still four vampires, and, although not shocking, but surprisingly the couple that had been about to be vamp-chow were still at the back of the alley.
The remaining vampires were also re-evaluating the danger they were now presented with, the vamps did the second thing all vamps do in a situation like this. They tried to run.
Duly noted; /tried/.
Four ice beams as they ran past and some slippery ice on the pavement straight towards hard and immovable objects, and just that much more wet dust when the sun finally comes up.
Threat over, Xander breathed deeply to try and get the adrenaline to stop pumping.
When he finally noticed that he still wasn't alone, he was plum too tired to bother with being startled anymore. Thankfully, it wasn't anything to startle over as it was just the couple that he'd just rescued.
"Xander? Xander Harris?" a far too-familiar voice came from one of them.
Crap, they recognized him. They must go to school with him or else . . .
Xander's brain short-circuited as he caught sight of and actually looked at who had spoken to him.
Amy Madison and Scott Hope, though the young mutant barely even registered the other boy's presence in light of Amy's. That mostly had to do with the outfit Amy was wearing of course.
"Well hello there," Iceman switched immediately to his 'cool' 'talking-to-hot-girls' persona.
Scott Hope rolled his eyes, then, in full view of their classmate and rescuer, put his arm possessively around Amy's shoulders. The action instantly clicked with Iceman's memories of 'off-limits' girlfriends, and he pulled back and toned down the 'cool'.
"So I see I'm not the only one that had an . . . interesting Halloween," Amy said to Xander, bringing his attention back to her.
"Yeah, though I'm wondering how much more . . . heh, eventful yours was than ours," Iceman commented back, looking her up and down.
Now it was Amy who rolled her eyes, as she retorted, "You're just lucky I don't turn you into something slimey. Even if we do owe you our lives now. Sort of."
"So . . . uh, help me out here Amy, what exactly did you dress as again?" Iceman asked, and smirked knowingly.
Amy was in a red and pink outfit. Starting at the top, her blond hair was done up in sort of a braid, which seemed to have been decorated around a tiny little red fez-cap with pink embroidery on it, from which came a gauzy pink veil that fell down to cover her neck like some kind of Arabian Princess thing. Then she wore a tiny red jacket, the sleeves ending just below her shoulders, and the bottom hem of which was even with the bottom of her bust. The jacket also had that same pink embroidery on it that her cap did. Speaking of which, the jacket was open, revealing a frilly pink bra as the only other thing she was wearing for a top. Her midriff was entirely bare.
Unfortunately, in Xander's opinion, her pants started high on her waist, covering her navel but still leaving plenty of skin to enjoy visually. The waist of the pants was the same red as the jacket and hat, but there were still those embroideries, though on the pants between them Xander could see skin, and no sign of any underwear straps, which /should/ have been visible through those openings if there were any. Below the waist was wear things got interesting however, as the pant-legs were nothing by barely-there translucent gauzy pink silk with slits in the calves and around the thighs he further noted with an appreciative eye.
To top it all off, she was wearing pointy, pink and red elf slippers.
"For your information, pervert, I went as Jeannie, from "I Dream of Jeannie"," Amy answered him with an annoyed huff.
Scott Hope chose that moment to hold up an expensive-looking, yet still all-too-familiar jeweled perfume bottle, uncorked at the moment.
That sent Xander reeling, as he'd had quite a different costume in mind given Amy's appearance, like an Arabian Princess . . . or maybe something a bit more naughty . . . but now that he realized it, Amy's costume . . . her every appearance was 100 exactly like that of Barbara Eden on the TV show "I Dream of Jeannie". Except of course for being Amy Madison and not Barbara Eden.
"So then that would make you . . ." he pointed at Scott Hope. Who nodded back with a simple nod and the smirk of the superior.
"Oh . . ."
"You said it," Amy and Scott both finished for Iceman.
P.O.V. Switch
Cordelia was confused. And that scared her more, a lot more, than the fact that she was currently a hundred feet in mid air with nothing underneath her nor holding her up in anyway. Contrary to what physics tells us however, Cordelia was not falling down, or falling in any general way at all. Currently she was traveling horizontally, parallel to the ground, rather than vertically, which many sciences would agree would be quite impossible without some means of support or at least /something/ beneath her to hold her there.
Of course Cordelia Chase didn't care one iota about what "science" said. She could fly, and so she flew, it was that simple in her mind and she wasn't asking questions. About that.
She had much more important questions on her mind. Like how much longer could she be rich with both of her parents running countless risks and committing tax fraud. Given her best guess, it wouldn't even be a year before the IRS noticed things and started investigating the Chases. She'd probably be in the poor house before she even graduated High school.
The runner up to that question, was how was it that she could possibly know all this? Well, actually she already had the answer to that question. She'd stolen the memories of it, along with all their other memories, from her parents when she touched them with her bare skin and sent them into 12-hour comas.
What was even more bizarre was that so far, every single person that she'd touched and done that too, they just rationalized and came up with some lame completely unbelievable excuse for the missing time. Although her mother rationalizing that she'd had too much to drink wasn't so much a stretch as a convenient excuse.
The only exceptions so far had been her clique of friends that she'd heard Willow once call the "Cordettes". They didn't really feel like her friends anymore though. Especially since she knew that she hadn't been the only one to get a costume from Ethan's thanks to Partytown going out of business.
They had their own 'multiple personalities' to deal with, enough that whatever had everyone else in Sunnydale in permanent denial, wasn't bothering with them anymore. Unfortunately just because all her friends had admitted that something weird had happened and that it involved them on an intimate level, didn't make them any more immune to her power-stealing abilities. Those whole 48-hours had been so confusing that she still had trouble sorting everything out.
It had all started with the maid . . .
Two weeks ago, Chase Mansion
"Miss Cordelia? It is time to wake up?" came the French-accented voice of Cordelia's private maid, Bridgette. The maid knocked on the bedroom door twice more before finally opening and entering quickly. She was surprised to find her mistress already up and about, just finishing up dressing herself in a mini-skirt and spaghetti-strap, low-cut top. The odd addition was the pair of small leather riding gloves she had over her hands. Of course they went with the outfit, this was Cordelia Chase after all, but them being there at all was confusing enough.
"Oh, sorry Bridgette, I was just finishing up admiring . . . the changes I made over the weekend," Cordelia said when she finally noticed the maid standing there.
Bridgette of course knew immediately what her mistress was referring to. How could she not? It was almost a scandal when the Chase heir had come back from Halloween, the day after, with a white stripe in her hair, an added bust size, and muscle tone that had no way of being done overnight, no matter how good a plastic surgeon it was.
But then Mister and Mrs. Chase didn't bat so much as an eye at their only daughter's sudden change in appearance, much rather they complimented her on her hair products and when questioned about the white stripe, Mrs. Chase merely shrugged and said she'd gone through the same fad when she was Cordelia's age.
Sometimes Bridgette worried about her mistress and her family. It just wasn't normal to be /that/ ignorant of strange happenings. Cordelia seemed to have become a great deal more aware of the Truth, but Bridgette knew better than to talk about it. Ever.
"Breakfast will soon be ready Miss," the maid curtsied, "And you said that you would like to be reminded that you wanted to . . . walk to school today?"
That confused Bridgette the most out of all the recent changes to her mistress. Cordelia /always/ drove to school, since before she'd even had her license.
"Thanks for the reminder. I might not want to wear a skirt after all, come to think of it," the skunk-white brunette muttered to herself, thoughtfully tapping her chin with a gloved finger.
"Miss, breakfast?" Bridgette reached out to grasp Cordelia's shoulder as she had on many occasions since she was a little girl.
Cordelia, too late, saw the danger in the mirror and shouted, trying to move away, "Bridgette! No!" But it was too late.
There was a brief flash of light and Cordy felt something like strength flowing into her, but it was different too. After the flash, however, Bridgette collapsed, her eyes rolling up into her head.
"Oh mon dieu! Bridgette vous est bien?" Cordelia shouted suddenly at her maid. Careful not to touch her bare skin to her maid's again, she began to fuss, muttering to herself, "S'il vous plaît être bien, s'il vous plaît être bien, s'il vous plaît être bien Bridgette!"
Suddenly she stopped and stood straight, staring at herself in the mirror.
"Je parle le français. Sweet Georgia pie," her accent and language suddenly switched to 'Rogue-speak' as she'd dubbed it, "Ah absorbed Bridget's memories, and now ah speak French!"
"I gotta get out of here," panicked, Cordelia rushed out of her room, leaving Bridgette unattended on the floor.
She didn't get far though, as just outside of her room, she ran into the butler, who she hadn't really bothered to learn the name of, though the moment his ungloved hand landed on the exposed skin of her bicep to steady her after bumping into one another, she knew the moment that he fell unconscious to the ground that his real name was Enrique Juarez, though he'd put the name Paulo L. Sanchez on his application, that he'd been living in ghettos for most of his life until a lucky break landed him the sweet crib he had in the Chase mansion. Oh, and he'd been pawning out the "old" jewelry Cordelia's mother had "left around the house" and making almost three times as much from selling those fakes than his "job" working for the Chases was giving him.
And to top it all off, Cordelia now spoke fluent Spanish, which she was cursing the comatose butler with, even as she continued to run away.
Not bothering with the stairs, she simply leaped over the banister and carefully floated down to the first floor, the only thought, that she could say was truly hers, was to get to the others and have them help her fix this mess. Willow was a telepath now, she remembered. She could fix memories and maybe even help her to stop the French and Spanish voices now shouting inside of her head.
Before she'd even reached the door however, the doorbell rung out, bringing the white-striped brunette up short.
On the other side was several men she recognized. They were her father's partners and business associates. They all greeted her familiarly, and she was super-conscious that they only touched her gloved hands, but then things only got worse as her mother and father both appeared, and insisted that Cordelia join them for brunch. Apparently, from their minds, if Cordelia hadn't already left for school, she wasn't going to, as Cordelia herself discovered only minutes later. Unfortunately, it was quite true.
Almost against her will, Cordelia was dragged to her daddy's office, which had more than enough room and it only went sour from there.
"So, Cordelia," one of the more familiar faces sidled up next to her, "how's school been treating you?" he asked right before his arm reached up and around her, his hand coming to rest against the skin of her forearm. Once again, Cordelia was powerless, so to speak, to do anything other than gasp in shock as there was another flash of light and she felt an energy rush even as the man holding her slumped over unconscious.
She was more concerned over the memories and thoughts she had access to now though. Leaping away from the man, she started screaming, sometimes in French, some in Spanish, mostly in outrage however. The . . . the /pervert/ had just been feeling her up after drooling all over her, and she knew for a fact that he had a collection of pornography that could rival her fashion magazine collection.
Everyone else in the room however, was more confused and concerned over the sudden change in behavior, as none of them had seen the flash of light and only saw Cordelia screaming and hitting on a suddenly unconscious associate after he asked her an innocent question. The other associates, prime businessmen that worked with millions, or more, dollars a day to make even more millions of dollars, decided they couldn't just sit by and needed to calm the young lady down before checking on their business partner.
Cordelia, out of the corner of her eye, saw them get up and start heading for her, and immediately, she realized what was going to happen if they touched her, still too panicked and overwhelmed to rationalize a way to leave more gracefully and just leave them scratching their heads a little.
"NO! Don't touch me!" she screamed, backing away from them slightly. "DON'T TOUCH ME!"
Of course these men, business elite, had known Cordelia for a long time, and also knew she'd wanted to be an actress ever since she was a little girl. They also felt that, for whatever reason, she was very distraught and should be made to calm down. So instead of heeding her advice, they instead rushed forward and grabbed her by the arms to keep her still. By her /bare/ arms.
The flash of light was more intense and Cordelia, (being a teenage young woman almost 17), felt a rush of energy and thoughts so powerful she'd felt like she'd had some kind of orgasm. But none of that had the same effect as a group of fully grown men suddenly collapsing to the floor like puppets with their strings cut around a single young woman, who was standing there with a dazed look on her face.
"C-c-Cordelia!" her mother outraged.
"W-w-w-what did you do? WHY did you do it?" her father demanded.
The Chases weren't physical people, through punishment or affection, but given the circumstances, it wasn't a surprise that both mother and father tried to 'shake' some sense into their daughter after she didn't answer, only staring glassy-eyed into nothing, her brain still too overloaded to completely process the influx of memories from over almost a dozen people, half of them all at once. The inescapable result, two more bodies hit the floor, while Cordelia learned what her life was really all about.
A quarter of an hour later, Cordy finally snapped out of it, groaning from the strain of having so many thoughts, that were not her own, rattling around in her brain. She stumbled out of her father's office and tried to focus herself enough to remember where it was she could go to get help, but it was so hard, her mind leaping from one thing to the next, from business mergers, to math formulas, to accountant stuff, to pornography, to IRS fraud, to fashion and social shit that made /her/ look like Willow, to things she could barely comprehend.
Before she could clear her head enough though, the doorbell rang. It wasn't what she needed, but it was a focus, so slowly, Cordy made her way to the door. When she got there, she was surprised to find her "best friend", Harmony Kendall standing there, dressed in some wicked leathers and halter top.
"Oh good, you haven't left yet," Harmony said without preamble.
"H-h-Harmony?" Cordy stuttered, trying to focus through everything cluttering her brain at the moment. She knew Harmony shouldn't be there, but she couldn't force herself to think of any reasons why the other High School socialite would even be there at her house.
"Hey, you OK?" the blond teen asked in an unnatural display of concern. Even as the girl reached out to help, Cordelia couldn't help but dread what was to come, wishing with all her might that this curse hadn't been laid upon her.
Present, Chase Mansion
Cordelia shook her head clear of her memories as she levitated down to land smoothly behind her mansion house. The worst of the thoughts and memories had faded shortly before everyone had started waking up, but there were still traces, vestiges. And she could still understand bits and pieces of French and Spanish, though she was no longer fluent. Then there was what she had learned from Harmony.
Cordelia sighed as she started towards the house, her mind toiling over everything the last two weeks had brought.
Harmony. Harmony, who had been her "friend" since their parents had introduced them in the fifth grade. Harmony who was the second best looking girl at their school and always agreed and complimented Cordy until the brunette felt like she was walking on air, invincible. Harmony, who had hated Cordelia since before they had even met. Harmony, who was always looking for Cordy's one weakness, one way to knock her even one peg down on the social ladder. Harmony, who had dressed up, along with all the other 'Cordettes' with costumes from a new little shop called 'Ethan's' for Halloween. Harmony, who . . .
"Well, well, well, look who the /skunk/ flew in!" a harsh voice broke through Cordy's reverie.
Harmony who was standing right in front of her, between herself and her house, and who was backed up with the other five Cordettes, every one of them with a PO'd look on her face.
That wasn't the only thing that was different, she realized as she looked her former friends over. Harmony, standing at the forefront, was wearing skin-tight leather pants, high-heeled boots, and a leather halter top, leaving her abs showing, and (this was unusual) a pair of metal-studded forearm bracers. Cordy also noted that she had a belt with a bunch of throwing knives on the, and a sword, a /real/ sword in her hand.
On Harmony's right stood Aura, the "Asian chick" part of their clique, in loose free-flowing clothing of a pleated skirt and school girl blouse. She also held a gun in her hands and a cold almost inhumanly sterile look in her eyes. Immediately behind Aura was Cindy, another blond, but she was taller and had bigger, natural, boobs than Harmony did, but was also the very reason that the Cordettes weren't flunking out of school, as she was fifth in line, after Willow Rosenberg and three others, for Valedictorian. She was wearing a red sleeveless turtleneck and a black mini-skirt and knee-high black boots, and carried a pair of her own guns.
On Harmony's left, another pair of gun-toting hotties, Cordy almost didn't recognize them as they'd been through a few changes like hers. Charlotte, who used to have straight raven black hair, now had a waist length mane of bright /silver/ hair, and matching silver eyes. And instead of just a couple guns, she had straps of knives, blades, more guns, ammo clips, and a couple of grenades strapped around her entire body. She also knew that the poor girl also occasionally now spoke with a Russian accent and could speak fluently in the language and several of its dialects. Cordy also knew that was not the limit of her new skills.
Right behind Charlotte was Erin, and while Erin had had red hair before Halloween, it wasn't the same shade of red that it was now, and her bust, which had been a little less than an A-cup, for which she was not teased as it worked for her and her petite frame, she was now sporting a healthy, and probably 'natural', pair of D-cups, same as Cordy herself. She held a pair of hand-knives, and just from the way she held them, Cordy knew the girl could use them with lethal and professional intent.
"Hi guys," Cordelia greeted. Even she was surprised at the level of exhaustion and tone of her own voice.
"Hey Cordy," a voice to her own left spoke. The white-striped brunette turned to see the final member of her clique, stepping out of the shadows as though she'd once been one of them. She held a kitana blade, it gleamed in the moonlight, and the mutant teenager had no doubt that the single weapon was more dangerous than all the guns and other weapons in sight at the moment. At least in the hands of Brittany it was.
"It's kinda late guys, and I'm really not up for any kind of slumber party," she spoke tiredly.
"Oh, that's not the reason we're here/Rogue/" Harmony snapped.
Arching an eyebrow in interest, Cordelia just stood there, looking at the femme fatales arrayed around her. After a lengthy wait, she finally just asked, "OK, then what are you here for? Because quite frankly, I'm tired, I'm grumpy, I've had a really long day, and I just want to go to bed, so no games, please?"
"Oh, we're going to play a game alright," Harmony stepped forward, raising her sword in an aggressive manner. "It's called Russian Coup. Bit of history here for you Cor, do you know what happened to the old government leaders after their revolution?"
Cordelia, actually knowing the answer, ignored the question and just stood there, crossing her arms and retorted, "I'm invulnerable. I can fly, and I'm super strong. You can't touch me without putting yourself in a coma, and I already know most of your 'moves', if thats what you want to call it, since I've already absorbed your memories once Harmony. Do you /really/ want to do this? Because I honestly don't."
"Doesn't change the fact that I'm going to kick you off your high horse and become the most popular girl in school with you out of the way. And I'm going to take care of that tonight. And prove that once and for all I'm /better/ than you!"
"Oh knock it off /Callisto!" Cordy snapped back. "And do I even want to know where you guys got all those guns, or that sword?"
"Actually, and it may not be /Nemesis'/ Coda sword, but I found this rather decent sword at a Pawn shop. As for the other ordinance, ask /Noir/ over there. They're the ones that . . . "relieved" the military base of it," Brittany replied.
"It was sickeningly easy," Cindy answered Cordy's questioning glance, "They really should put some better trained men that aren't so easily distracted by harmless flirtation on guard duty. And don't worry Cordy, Kirika . . . I mean Aura and I aren't going to become assassins or anything like that. We just feel . . . safer with some weapons."
"Bullets don't kill, let alone hardly hurt vampires and demons," the mutant retorted to the pair that Brittany had called "Noir".
"I don't suppose you two appreciated that quip about Russian history?" she asked the last two, who merely shrugged.
"We aren't actually /Silver Sable/ and the /Black Widow/ y'know Cordy," Charlotte replied, "We don't actually care about Russia or Siberia or stuff like that. And like Harmony said, we aren't here to discuss us like it was a party."
"Yeah," Cordy grunted self-depreciatingly, "We were a bunch of stuck-up snot-nosed snobs, weren't we?"
Unexpectedly, she received several agreeing sounds from all of them, except Harmony, who growled out a warning, silencing the others.
"Shut up!" she shouted at Cordelia, "And defend yourself, if you can!"
The next thing she knew, she had a screaming Harmony racing at her, sword upraised in a killing blow.
TBC . . . ?