Willow Rosenberg was one of the most promising students of magic that just about anyone had seen in a long time. Deities both fair and foul kept an interested eye on the young woman. She was brilliant and she was creative. She also had an inferiority complex that made her just a delicious target for certain religions that abounded the darker parts of the Forgotten Realms. Other forces watched her as well.
The Zhentarim were among the most attentive. When reports of her magical talent went back to Manshoon (as all the people connected to prominent people had reports on them and the Scoobies were connected to just about everyone of interest, they themselves became of interest), he had expressed an interest in her. Instead of direct recruitment, he wanted to see what he could get out of her. So he had given orders that she was to be given a discount on whatever interested her, without making it look like she was getting a discount.
Before the Shift, the Sunnydale Mall was not the most prosperous place. It attracted the normal attention of chain stores like the Gap or the local grocery chain, but it also had a reputation in the corporate chain community. Managers tended to just quit after working there for a while, or they just up and vanished, or they suddenly changed to working only the night shifts. People now understood the reasons were primarily caused by the so-called "gangs on PCP" but back then it had a tendency to run through stores like a person suffering from bad seafood.
Post-Shift, things were different. The Sunnydale Mall was the most commonly occupied place in town. Merchants from both within and without Sunnydale congregated to sell their wares by taking out sections of the various shops. They tended to fill the spots that people used to sell similar wares: clothing in former clothing stores, baubles in former jewelry stores and so on. Interestingly enough, Sunnydale clothing was starting to become a major export. The styles and colors were considered strange and unusual. Certain dyes were only used for the richest or highest ranking in the rest of the Realms, but here in Sunnydale they were for everyday people. Away from Sunnydale this was making a big splash, especially in certain male dominated circles. Some societies had actually banned the wearing of certain pieces of clothing including, but not limited to: women's jeans, purple anything, miniskirts, anything navy or royal blue, and shorts.
Today, a certain Zhentarim agent, posing as a simple merchant, was selling books. Normally these would not sell so well (most of them not being in a language the Sunnydale residents could read), but today was different. The Watcher's Initiative quickly bought most of them, but chose not to buy multiples. The rest were going to be a loss for the Zhentarim agent. These remaining books were a collection of religious texts from a wide range of religions across the Realms from the borders of Kara-Tur and the Hoardlands to Chult in the south and Icewind Dale in the north. The Zhentarim agent had been informed that he was specifically to give this book to at least one of two people.
Willow Rosenberg, one of the few people who were given regular use of a translation amulet, bought a book on religion.
That morning Ranma Saotome stood up in front of the assembled students. It was about 50-50 human to orc and he made sure to line them up in a mix of age, experience and race. There were no groups of three or more.
Ranma himself was not an impressive man. Though he was of average height in terms of most of Earth, he was dwarfed by the orcs and soldiers in front of him. The average orc stood a head higher than him and almost all of the students, human or orc, had a more visibly impressive muscle mass. He was younger and less scarred than most of them. Add to the fact that he looked much younger than his 27 years, he was stuck with a difficult first group of students. General Hennessey introduce him to the crowd with the aid of translation magic.
"This is Ranma Saotome, he is your instructor for the next few weeks. If he tells you to do something, do it," the General had said. "This is an order." He turned back to Ranma and smiles. "Give them hell."
With that, Ranma was left in front of 50 new students. He glanced them over. More than a few did not think he was an appropriate choice. Most of them were skeptical about his ability.
"I am Ranma Saotome," he began, speaking loud enough to be heard in the back. "I do not have a rank. You will not call me sir. You will call me Sensei or Teacher. But remember this, compared to me you are mewling babies. None of the fighting you have done matters at all to me. I don't care about what battles you fought and I don't care what competitions you won. Each and every one of you is at the same level in my eyes. I was asked to teach you discipline and I will do so." A quick glance at their faces told him that pissed them off. Good.
He chose not to wear the clothing provided for him, choosing his usual Chinese shirt and Kung-Fu pants. The students, even the orcs, were all wearing BDUs of various colors. Searching through the crowd he picked the biggest, meanest looking soldier he could find.
"You," he said pointing at the man. "Come here." The man stepped forward and came to attention. He had obviously had training, a marine Ranma guessed. "Attack me."
"Yes, sir-Sensei," The man said, correcting himself. The man struck out with a feint of a fist and then tried to sweep Ranma's feet out from under him. Ranma simply stepped aside. The marine punched and Ranma caught his fist with one hand.
"I told you to attack me," Ranma said. "Not play patty cake."
That pissed him off.
With serious attacks this time, the marine sent out a flurry of punches and kicks. Ranma blocked them all with one hand and then had the gall to yawn. When he thought the demonstration had been enough, the Asian man jumped over the marine, touching a pressure point on the man's neck and let him fall to the ground temporarily paralyzed.
"He got angry," Ranma explained. "The first thing I am going to teach you is the control of self. Then I will teach you how to fall and then I will teach you how to punch. When I think you have learned that, you will learn how to kick."
He looked them over again. Some were still not happy with him. Good.
He thought his students were ready to learn and they did little by little. Some were better than others, but many had to unlearn what they had learned. He would not teach the way he had been taught. He would find a better way.
The attack came in the dark. That was to be expected, as the attackers were Drow. What Drizzt didn't know, was that he had been bait for some time. Giles and the Initiative had deliberately allowed the scouts into the city so they could find the people controlling them. The scouts were documented, their faces cross referenced with the files and information gathered from the interrogations of Dinin Do'Urden.
The biggest arrogance of the Drow was the expectation that Humans couldn't see in the dark. Night vision goggles solved that problem. They watched as Drow entered into the city. They deliberately allowed the incursions, just as they allowed the "hole" in the defense. They knew exactly what would happen when the attack finally took place.
Assistant Director Riley Finn took point, watching as Vierna Do'Urden stalked into Sunnydale's shadowy streets. He watched as they vanquished a stray vampire that jumped out for a quick bite. He watched as they shot a barking dog with their sleep poison. He watched as the Drow stalked up Revello Drive. He watched as they broke into the house. Once they were all videotaped committing a crime he sent out a quick sharp command.
From inside and out the Summers home, blaster fire coursed through the air. Even Drizzt had been caught unawares with the sting operation. Drow fell all around him in unconscious heaps.
"Drizzt you traitor!" Hissed Vierna as her whip did the same. The snake heads went up to strike, but fell limp as a blaster set to stun shook them out. Vierna's look of shock was priceless, but was cut short as she too was shot. As she slumped to the floor, Forest and Graham stepped into the room. Without speaking a word to Drizzt, they cuffed his sister and stripped her of any remaining weapons.
Having watched from afar, Giles walked into the house.
"Drizzt, take this as a lesson," the watcher said. "If you want to arrest someone, make sure they commit a crime first."
"You set this up? Why didn't you tell me?"
"Drizzt, you are a good man, an excellent fighter and a good and honest heart," Giles said, cleaning his glasses for a second, "but you are no actor. Your natural wariness would have alerted them to greater heights of paranoia. This never could have worked if you were not so preoccupied."
"The dressing down, was this part of the sting as well?"
"Yes, but it was also serious," Giles said with the tone of a father. "You need to understand how things work here, and you need to learn the consequences for your actions. Now go to the Initiative offices. I believe you have something to say to your brother."
"My-what?"
"Dinin Do'Urden has been given asylum and will be working for me now," Giles said, but Drizzt was out the door before he could finish the statement. Giles glanced over and realized Vierna was waking up. He leaned down to look her in the eye as she was hauled to her feet. "Ah, yes, Miss Do'Urden. You are under arrest for crossing into Sunnydale's borders illegally, breaking and entering a personal residence, attempted kidnapping, unlawful possession of poisons, criminal trespass and one count of animal cruelty towards the dog you shot with the cross bow. Forest, Graham, please read Miss Do'Urden her rights and introduce her to her new accommodations. I believe the cell across from the green slime is open. I have to congratulate your team for an excellent sting execution."
"Thank you sir," said Forest sharply. He pulled the drow female to her feet again and nodded to Graham.
"Under Sunnydale law you have the right to remain silent," Graham said, speaking the words from memory. "Anything you choose to say or to can and will be use against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney and should you not be able to afford one, one shall be afforded to you."
She chose to spit in Giles' face. Wiping it off with a cloth, he glared at her, letting just a bit of his younger personality into his voice. "And one count of assaulting an officer." Forest and Graham hefted the Drow noblewoman and continued to read her rights.
From the shadows on a rooftop several streets over, Jarlaxle watched as the operation went so far south penguins were likely to pop out. He tapped the magical broach that allowed for longer range communication.
"I do believe it is time for us to leave," he said to his new second in command.
"Immediately sir," was the quick reply through the magical item. "What about Vierna's slaves?"
"Knock them out and leave them in some house," Jarlaxle commanded. "Let them know we were here. Send up a flare or something that would be seen. Sunnydale can pay to keep them alive. We can always get more slaves and it will make it more difficult for them to follow us."
"It will be taken care of before you get back," was the sharp reply.
"So, ye be wantin' passage?"
Angel nodded.
"I guts rum fer one," the barge man said.
"Well sorry, we need room for four," Angel sad. "We'll have to wait for the next one."
"Soot yer selfs," the barge man replied.
They had been waiting for a transport for a couple of days since they vanquished the Dread Dead Gnome. Even their local celebrity had done nothing for their boating prospects. They were getting desperate. Even Spike was almost willing to ride a manure barge to the mouth of the River Shining. It was that boring.
"So, what now?" Oz asked. "Play for money?"
"I, uh, I can't sing. That would only work for you three," Angel admitted.
"Drusilla can sing?"
"My Dru's better than just about anyone, writes more stuff than sings, you know," Spike said before taking a chug off the blood flask.
"What kind of songs?"
"Like the Beatles in the later years," Angel explained. "But they make less sense."
"Cool."
The conversation would have gone on longer, but a short gal walked up to them. She was about two feet tall, with dark goggles propped on her forehead, pantaloons, wooden clogs and what looked like fully-auto crossbow. Her hair was cut roughly in a short, hot pink mess. She had a satchel across one shoulder stuffed with books and scrolls and a bandoleer of glass vials with odd colored liquids in each one.
"So I hear you're looking for a ride to Waterdeep?" she asked. "I'm Falan Gearcranker. I've got room on my ship if you can pay the price."
"We've got silver," Oz said. "Are you a gnome?"
"Yes, is that a problem?"
"Nope, never met a live gnome before."
"Well, now you have," Falan said with a grin. "I don't take silver or gold. I'm interested in Sunnydale. You tell me about living there and I'll give you transport."
"Uh, sure, we can do that," Angel said, a bit surprised. "How did you know we were from Sunnydale?"
"Only someone from another world wouldn't know how to kill a vamp," the gnome said. Spike smirked at that and glanced at Angel's nervous twitch. "So, do we have a deal?"
"Yes," Drusilla said for them. The four men looked at her. "The moon told me too." Angel and Oz looked questioningly at Spike. He shrugged.
"Good enough for me," Spike said. "Where's the ship?"
Soon enough, they were all on board. The ship was crewed by gnomes, all sporting the same strange get up and goggles. More than a few were working on wrenching cranks and knobs around. There were not the usual sails, but one on each side and one on the tail. At the prow was a massive ballista loaded and ready.
"Stow your things in the hold," Falan commanded. "And strap yourself in."
The strapping in was easily done, with a great number of seats set up to face forward and belts to strap themselves in.
"Is this a steam ship?" Angel asked a little nervously. "Are you afraid we'll fall off?"
"Oh, better than steam." She pulled a crank beside her and the ship began to move right towards the rapids. The course never varied and the speed increased continuously.
"Aren't we supposed to take the locks to get down to the lower river?" Angel asked, more nervous this time. Just as they were about to hit the rapids, Falan Gearcranker cranked a gear, letting the strange sails fall down to the sides of the ship like the wings of a great bird.
"Locks?" Falan asked as she and the other gnomes pulled their dark goggles over their eyes. "Where we're going, we don't need locks."
Kicking a peddle at her feet, a massive balloon filled with air, lifting the ship above the waters. Falan leaned over and spoke into a pipe next to her head. The next instant her voice could be heard all over the ship. "This is the captain to the crew and passengers of Spelljammer Gond's Gears. Keep all hands within the spelljammer at all times or you might fall off the gravity plane. Don't touch anything without asking a crewmember first. Next stop, Waterdeep. We thank you for flying Lantan Air."
Oz grinned. "This is really cool."
"Wait a minute," Angel said. "You people have airplanes, but you don't have indoor plumbing?"
"I knew I should have taken the bloody window seat," Spike grumbled to Dru. She nodded sadly.
"I wouldn't go too far, Mr. Mayor," said a familiar voice behind him. Richard Wilkins the Third turned around to see a familiar face holding a small crossbow. "We have a bit of business unrelated to the day's usual troubles."
Wilkins raised his arms, dropping the crate he was carrying. His attacker just smiled and shook his head.
"You should put them down. It doesn't matter if you have a weapon anyway. This is tipped with poison, a fast acting poison."
"Now, now Mr. Do'Urden, that isn't very polite," Richard Wilkins said.
"You know, I noticed something strange while going through the library," the attacker said. "You, your father and your grandfather all look exactly alike."
"I'm told the family resemblance is remarkable," Wilkins said with a grin.
"Perhaps you are told that; however only two possibilities come to mind," said the one with the crossbow. "Either you are a clone or you are Richard Wilkins the First."
"What an interesting hypothesis," was the Mayor's sardonic reply.
"You should know that Drow are highly resistant to magic," the crossbowman said. "Those of us with a magical bent can notice such things. There is a certain style that is unique to each caster. The Spell was ingenious, Richard. Truly remarkable. But it isn't perfect."
"I suppose you think you've figured out everything, haven't you?"
"Not everything." The Drizzt said. "I haven't figured out exactly how to make it hurt worst." He grabbed the Mayor by the neck and pulled some spell components from his belt pouch. "Come here you surface scum."
"Gosh darn it, you shouldn't be rude to your elders, young man," chided the Mayor strictly. The Drizzt raised an eyebrow. Wilkins just shook his head disapprovingly.
The Fighter-Thief-Mage Drizzt snarled out an arcane phrase and the world moved. All Mayor Wilkins saw was darkness. He promptly walked into something, stubbing his toe.
"Of course you wouldn't be able to see with your human eyes, old man." Wilkins heard someone moving around in the blackness. "Heh, I guess Big Brother didn't lie. It really is destroyed."
A force of will lit up the ruins of House Do'Urden with the inborn Drow power of Faerie Fire. Burnt and toppled towers sprung up in the gloom of darkness. The Mayor watched as the transdimentional copy of Drizzt Do'Urden posed with excessive theatrics in the ruins. "Welcome to Menzoberranzan, Mayor Wilkins."