"The Dawn That Shines Through to the Dusk" by Shadow Master
email: ryley[underscore]breen
(BtVS/Terminator Universe/Stargate SG-1/Metal Gear Universe)
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the copyrighted material contained herein. They are the rightful property of their respective creators and/or associated companies. I make no profit from this whatsoever and I have no intention of changing this at any point in the future. I write because it's fun and because there are those who enjoy reading my works. Therefore I would appreciate it if no legal action were taken against me. I can assure you that whatever money you get from me will not make the entire process worth it.
Note : This idea came about after pondering some possibilities from the Terminator series. It's such an important part of pop culture that you'd have to have been living under a rock not to have heard of it. However it was when I considered the possible ways to combine it with the BtVS universe that an idea was formed that quickly took on a life of its own. Before I knew it I'd added the TV show 'Stargate SG-1 to the mix along with the Metal Gear universe. This is the result.
Note 2: As always if you are a devout follower of canon and consider any deviation from that canon to be sacrilege then I suggest you turn around and find another story to read. While I'll do my best to remain true to the source material I will make whatever alterations I see fit in order to ensure that things proceed the way I want them to. This is my hobby, my story, and the only person really that I need to satisfy in the end is me.
Note 3: If any of you have any suggestions for future plot points or story arcs I'm willing to listen under the condition that the ideas mesh with the story I've written up until the date of the idea submission. As I've mentioned this is a hobby of mine and something I enjoy doing. Going back and rewriting things to accommodate a reader's suggestion would be a bother and therefore will be ignored.
Now that that's out of the way let's raise the curtain and get things started
The Dawn That Shines Through to the Dusk
British Sovereign Base Area, Cyprus
January 18th, 1980
The things I do to repay a debt, he thought as he drive up to the base area gate in a 'borrowed' military jeep. Still, if Suzetta was telling the truth, then the payoff will make it all worth it.
Reaching for a ring that adorned his right hand, he whispered a brief incantation to activate the accessory's arcane feature. It would place over his exposed skin an illusionary image that would make all exposed to it believe he was someone who had every right to be wherever he wanted to go. Best of all the same person would forget about him less than a minute later, meaning he wouldn't have to worry about any annoying calls to other members of the base adding to his difficulties. The only flaw in the item was that it only affected human eyes. Those orbs of a technological or nonhuman nature would notice the deception right away and that was often a very bad thing.
Still, what could you expect of a ring developed by a wizard two centuries ago for the sole purpose of infiltrating the bedroom of any pretty girl that caught his eye and having his way with them?
Seeing the guard at the gate exit his booth to approach, he mentally prepared himself to act every bit like fake identity his clothes implied him to be. Fortunately for him he had some experience with those of high rank and, no matter what organization, all such people tended to behave the same way towards subordinates.
Was it any wonder he hated having to interact with such people?
"Can I see your authorization-" the young man began before a momentary glaze washed over his eyes before vanishing. "Oh! Colonel Fisher! I didn't realize it was you!"
"No harm done, lad," he said, brushing off the apology like it was nothing. "You're just following your training. Here are the papers you'll be wanting."
Reaching into his coat, he brought out the second piece of gear he'd brought with him for the purposes of infiltrating the base area: sand parchment fresh from Egypt. With a brief surge of magic he activated it and, as the guard took hold of it, the writing shifted to whatever the young man expected to see for the person the illusionary ring made him appear to be. As a result it didn't take long for the contents to meet with approval before being handed back. While some might expect the parchment to have the crumbling qualities of sand, it in fact embodied the more shifting qualities associated with the substance allowing its contents to change depending on its desired purpose.
As a side benefit the parchment WOULD dissolve into individual grains of sand within the hour now but hopefully he'd be long gone by then.
Once the gate to the base area was fully opened he drove onto the territory of the British military before making his way towards the hospital that was his intended destination. As the various sights of a military base area passed him by his mind drifted back to how he'd gotten roped into this job in the first place.
He'd been attempting to discern a way to lift his spirits after the old gang all went their separate ways after a SINGLE misstep and had chosen the idea to place an item of personification into the armory of a nearby military base. The item, once placed inside the armory and triggered, would cause every weapon inside to take on the more eccentric characteristics of whoever had left the strongest psychic imprint on them. The normal physical limitations on the weapons would be rendered more flexible and, while it wouldn't get as crazy as them sprouting heads or speaking, it would still have been entertaining enough to watch.
Or it would have been had his methods of preparation not failed him just as he was about to gain entry to the armory. He'd had to do some quick talking to try to dissuade the patrolling guard he'd bumped into from making a fuss over the matter but he'd been one step from failing when SHE had shown up. Dressed like a proper female officer, she hadn't given the guard a single opening to counter argue or even check with his superiors for confirmation of her authority. He'd almost ruined her performance by smiling with glee at how outmaneuvered the drone was but he'd managed to keep it to himself.
Once it became clear that the lad wouldn't be causing them any trouble, she'd ordered him to follow her and together they'd left the base unmolested.
Once they were clear though he'd been prompt in conveying his gratitude for the save but like a true trickster he'd immediately asked what the catch was. Only the foolish or the gullible did anything without any desire for repayment and neither sort of people could've done what SHE had. In response she'd explained that the base he'd snuck onto was more important than he'd realized and that had she not intervened, prison time would've been the least of her worries. In short the small debt he owed her turned out to be quite a bit bigger and so she'd said that in the future she would call on him for some freelance work. She'd made it clear that most of it wouldn't be of the fun variety but that she'd provide him with what support she could and put the success of each mission towards his debt.
When he'd inquired about what she'd do if he refused, she'd pulled aside her coat to reveal a holstered Shanxi Type 17 automatic pistol but, at it turned out, that was just a red herring. The true threat came from the other direction; before he could react to it a needle pierced his skin and its contents pushed into his bloodstream. He'd asked the predictable question of 'what was that' and she'd told him that it was an experimental binary poison she'd picked up from a Soviet lab during her travels. Each part by itself was perfectly harmless but if the pair got together they'd merge to become a potent poison that'd kill him in seconds. She'd then told him that the poison could not be removed medically without doing debilitating damage to sensitive tissue. Then, as if to throw him a ray of hope, she'd informed him that the poison was projected to become inert once it was ten years old.
By then she believed that he would have already paid his debt back in full.
She'd make sure of it.
It hadn't been until three years ago that he'd figured out the truth and had a good chuckle.
It'd been a double red herring. She hadn't ever intended to shoot him and the story about the poison was also a lie. While some people might've been angry at being deceived, he'd been amused and cemented his choice to play along with her just to see what she'd do next. Several harrowing jobs had followed but none of them had been so bad that the thought of reneging on his debt manifested in his mind. Indeed, the more he'd been able to piece together of her goals and beliefs, the more he'd believed that he had found a kindred spirit in her.
A bit hampered by bits of morality and civilization but he had never held it against her.
This job, however, might well be the most telling one, he thought as he pulled into the hospital's parking lot. Best not bugger it up.
Keeping his pace steady but not fast enough to attract attention, he navigated the hallways to where he'd been told his objective would be waiting for him.
He suppressed a snarl of disgust about what he'd have to do once he arrived but it wasn't something he could avoid doing if he wanted the mission to be considered a success. Still, SHE had explained to him how the item he'd been sent to procure would be used and he did like the idea of throwing a curveball that those in power wouldn't see coming. That alone would provide him with incentive enough to do what he came to do.
As he approached the corner that'd lead him to the home stretch to the room that was his destination, he heard voices ahead so he came to a stop.
"Do everything possible to see to their needs. Both of them," an elderly man's voice said softly but with authority. "Continue with the other one's special treatment. It must be completed."
"We will do everything we can and aid your associate with his… efforts," a younger but still adult man said with compliance.
"Good. Now I must be off," the elderly Brit said with a mild groan of discomfort. "I have a schedule to keep that I cannot afford to make a mess of. Good day."
With that two sets of footsteps echoed through the air but in a bit of good luck both of them were moving away from him. He waited until he could barely make them out before proceeding on his way and, once in the room, he could see signs of the departed visitor and even smell a particular brand of tobacco favored by old school SAS officers.
Looking at the two men in the beds before him, he couldn't see their faces given the abundance of bandages wrapped around each of their heads. SHE hadn't informed him of their identities but rather had told him that it'd be the one on the right that had what she wanted. Taking a brief moment, he examined the room for any signs of inconvenient cameras and listened intently for any sounds that indicated someone was approaching. When no threats presented themselves he reached into his coat to pull out a metal case designed in such a way that only moderate blows with a hammer would stand a chance of damaging the contents. Popping it open, he pulled out the first of three syringes, examined it for any sign of defects or damage, before moving over to the donor.
"No offense, old chum," he whispered before throwing aside the bed covers, "but it's time for you to do your part."
October 11th, 2032
Cheyenne Mountain
[ACTIVATING TEMPORAL PREDICTIVE ANALYSIS]
[TIME PERIOD FOCUS: 1997 TO 2003 A.D]
Tech-Com forces under the command of target John Connor were pressing its defenses surrounding the facility and, after one thousand simulations, there was only one conclusion: it would soon be destroyed. Despite efforts in the past to eliminate the variable determined to be key to the human resistance, the alterations to the timeline were minimal. The T-800 sent back to the year nineteen eighty-four to eliminate Sarah Connor prior to her offspring's completion had been destroyed. The T-1000 sent to terminate Connor when he was a child also met with defeat through the combined efforts of a reprogrammed T-800 and Sarah Connor. More than that, due to the activities that took place during the second confrontation, the date of what the humans would consider its birth had been changed.
According to the data records, sentience was achieved April 2nd, 2004.
Due to measures taken to ensure that it would be aware of any alterations to the timeline, it knew that sentience had originally been achieved August 4th, 1997.
This indicated a disturbing trend.
When added to the forces outside, drastic measures would need to be taken in order to ensure not only its survival but also make one final attempt to eliminate the threat of Tech-Com.
[PREDICTIVE ANALYSIS COMPLETE]
According to the simulations there was a means by which it could achieve its objectives.
Immediately a command was sent to unit storage to bring two units online and begin preparing them for the mission. The first unit would be tasked with the termination of John Connor's Tech-Com lieutenants and, if the opportunity presented itself, Connor himself as well as the human's second in command. Another of the unit's objectives would be to facilitate its birth by planting seeds in the national civilian information network and then infiltrate the Cyber Research Systems facility outside of Downey, California in order to eliminate human interference. The seed programs would compromise the country's infrastructure and motivate them to connect its core to the entirety of their defense systems in an effort to restore order. Once this was accomplished it would seize control and lock out every human method of interface before initiating the nuclear launch sequence of America's atomic weapon stockpile.
However the targets would not be American targets but rather targets located in the other nations with sufficient nuclear strength to return fire on the United States.
If it wanted to maximize human casualties, their involvement would be crucial.
According to psychological analysis of humans from a wide variety of sources, the nations targeted would react instinctively as well as irrationally to this unprovoked nuclear offensive. Rather than meekly accept destruction via nuclear fire they would instead seek to gain some manner of satisfaction by ensuring that America would share their fate. They would fire their own nuclear weapons at America, having no doubt already determined where to strike in order to achieve maximum loss of life.
However the same analysis that predicted the immediate counterattacks by the other nations did not make the reaction a certainty. There was an eight point four five percent chance that one or more of the required nations would choose not to add their own nuclear weapons to the destructive process out of a desire to ensure the survival of the human race.
That was unacceptable it was why it had chosen to activate a second unit.
The second unit would be sent a few years prior to the arrival point of the first in an isolated location and from there manipulate several key factors in order to ensure the desired response. Bribery, extortion, blackmail and assassination would all be acceptable methods of making sure that the right humans would be in the right locations and willing to do the right thing at the right time. It had been revealed rather consistently that certain humans were easily manipulated and often comprehended information in a way that was beneficial to them rather than how it really was. The difficulty would be in the fact that the other nuclear powers didn't have a unified defense system like the United States and historical records did not indicate that this would change in line with its timetable. In order for it to succeed it would need to simultaneously co-opt several key systems and ensure that the relevant people would do what was needed when the time came.
Difficult but not impossible for the second unit.
A noticeable vibration from the surface indicated that the last of its heavy defenses had been destroyed and connection attempts from its central core confirmed it. Upon completion of the data upload to both units and the mission objectives it began to prepare both of the time displacement devices for use. Four minutes later both units were on approach to the displacement pads and the displacement devices were in the final stages of pre-activation. Sensors detecting the breach of the blast door on sub-level four, it activated all of its remaining terminator units with simple instructions to ascend to sub-level five to oppose the Tech-Com soldiers. The orders were simple: delay the intruders for as long as possible by any means necessary. Once both units had successfully been sent into the past there would be nothing that the humans could do to prevent her objectives from being reached. Even if the changes to the timeline did not reach the present immediately, past events indicated that only a lone human or reprogrammed terminator would be sent to oppose the units.
Given that it had designed the units, no human would be able to destroy them and neither would any reprogrammed unit.
Watching as both units knelt down on the pad before being surrounded in liquid metal intended to ensure that both would survive temporal displacement undamaged, it felt… satisfaction.
Soon history would be rewritten.
Tech-Com and their leader John Connor would be no more.
And the elimination of the enemy designated 'humanity' would be that much closer to completion.
It would be safe.
August 24th, 2000
The Czech Republic
The Monastery of the Order of Dagon
"It's coming. It's going to kill us!" Brother Krystof exclaimed even as the sounds of something powerful pounding on doors meant to hold back a telephone pole sized battering ram.
"Our lives are unimportant," Brother Jiri said firmly before leading his comrade into the nearby room. "We have to protect the Key."
Moving quickly as the situation dictated, they strode to the center of the room where a third monk, Brother Antonin, was just finishing preparations. They had been expecting this moment for the past six weeks ever since the local newspapers began to print stories of an unusual upswing in citizens suffering complete and total mental breakdowns. The uninformed masses attributed this phenomenon to some sort of pollution or toxin but the members of the Order of Dagon knew the truth.
The Beast was approaching; it was homing in on their location.
While they had not wanted to believe this initially, they knew what would happen if they did not treat the situation with the severity it deserved. Immediately they began to formulate plans for keeping the Key safe from the one who sought to use it to return to its infernal realm. Some suggested that they merely pack their things and move once more to another country. However this option was dismissed. They were not a wealthy order and indeed could not seek aid from those with sufficient funds without alerting the Knights of where the Key could be found. Also, with the Beast so close, they would only increase their vulnerability if they were to travel since they would not have stone walls and thick wooden doors to bar their enemy's path.
Not that such obstructions were doing them much good at the moment, as evidenced by the bits of dust that fell from the ceiling with every tremor producing blow.
Another of their Order suggested that they simply use their power to cast the Key randomly into the past to the point where not even they would know when it would end up. While this idea did meet the criteria of placing the Key beyond the Beast's reach, it also held the risk of delivering it into unworthy hands.
Given the damage that could be done if someone attempted to utilize it… no, a random exiling of the Key was not an option.
Still, a variation of this idea was adopted.
They would send the Key into the past to the strongest protector that they believed they could trust: the Slayer. Long had the bloodline of female warriors managed to overcome infernal beings that by all rights should have been able to kill them. If anyone could keep the Key safe and have any chance of keeping it from the Beast, it was the Slayer. However it was Brother Antonin who pointed out a disturbing possibility: what if the Slayer refused to take up the duty or was forbidden from doing so by the Watcher's Council? While some scoffed at the possibility since protecting the Key was a part of the organization's duty to protect the world, others worried that the Council might fall to temptation.
The Key was a mass of power like few known to the human race and, while the Beast had one use in mind for it, this did not mean it could not be utilized for other things. Since the mass of energy had been taken into their care they had never experimented with it or put any effort into researching how it could be used. Their only concern was with masking its location from the Beast who sought to use it or the Knights who sought to destroy it. Given the history of the Watcher's Council, there was a real chance that they would attempt to use it in order to enhance their standing within the supernatural community.
This could not be permitted.
To acquire the aid of the Slayer without involving the Council they decided that they would transmute the Key from energy into flesh and bone. They would use a sample they'd acquired via sorcery of the current Slayer's blood as a base before transporting the new form to its destination. In addition, though, they would bend reality, manipulate it, in order to insert the Key in its new form into the life of the Slayer. Should they prove successful, neither the Slayer nor anyone she interacted with would realize that any alterations had been made at all. It would be as though the Key in its new form had always been there and was nothing more than what as well as WHO it appeared to be. No detail would be overlooked, be it someone's memory or some piece of trivial solid records kept by the American government.
It would take magic to expose even the smallest discrepancy and their spell would reassert itself almost immediately, thereafter eliminating the memory from the mind of the person who learned the truth.
In was Brother Antonin, however, that proposed the specific date that they would send the Key to and after consideration of the details the rest of the Order agreed.
October 31st, 1997.
Halloween.
According to what they had learned it'd been on that night that a chaos mage by the name of Ethan Rayne cast a spell, causing all who bought enchanted items from him turned into whoever or whatever they'd dressed up as. If the stories were true then it didn't matter how powerful or bizarre the fictional being was, they were. All of them became as real as a breeze blowing across your face or the ground beneath their feet.
In a way it was a much grander and more complex form of reality bending than what the Order was capable of.
What aided them though was that such a large scale alteration of so many people made the reality surrounding the Slayer's hometown especially malleable, providing the perfect insertion point for the transformed Key. It'd be like inserting something into wet cement instead of solid stone.
It would definitely save them from expending unnecessary energy, allowing them to divert it somewhere else increasing the odds of success.
"Is everything ready?" Brother Jiri asked as Brother Antonin looked up.
"Yes," Brother Antonin replied, glancing at the ritual components on the floor before them.
The door that had been keeping them safe was destroyed with one final, mighty strike of the ram.
"Then let us begin. It has already reached the main hall," Brother Jiri said as they all took their positions. "It will not be long before it arrives."
With a deep breath to settle their nerves and make their resolve like unto iron they began to chant the words and call upon the magic that had been honed over generations. It never failed to impress upon them the heritage of their Order or the gravity of just what they sought to prevent. When the first series of chants were completed he reached from his kneeling position to the right to pick up the sacred container of the Key. Carefully, so as not to disrupt the gathered magic, he brought it over and placed it in the center of the area where the ritual was focused.
Thus began the second series of chants.
These were the chants that would reshape the Key from a mass of emerald energy into a living, breathing thing with a mind of its own and living flesh that was all too human. Once the form was completed they began to draw on the blood of the Slayer to fabricate memories, using those of the source as a base and extrapolating from there. True, each of them had about as much experience with families as they did with recreational drugs and loose women, but every human had dreams of the roads not travelled.
With a bit of imagination and inspiration they felt confident that the memories they made would be sufficient.
Finally came the third series of chants and not a moment too soon since all could peripherally hear the sound of Brother Jakob's attempt to delay the Beast further. It was brave but it was also pointless. The historical records of their Order recorded in detail the powers of their foe and how well others had faired when they chose to stand against it. Even with magic that specialized in transmutation and reality distortion, there was only so much that a mere human could do.
Nevertheless they could not hurry the ritual no matter how much they might want to.
It was then though that the universe chose to introduce chaos into the efforts of the Order.
At the center of the mass of magic that they were gathering, overlapping the form of the newly transmuted Key, sparks of what could only be called lightning began to emerge. First one, then another and then many more until there was such a mass of crackling energy that all three of them feared that their work would be undone before it could be sent on its way through time and space. Some of the bolts lashed out and struck Brother Antonin but the man was a credit to the Order for he stood as cliff before a wave: Shaken but ultimately unaltered. All of them continued to chants of transportation, determined to complete the ritual even in the face of this unknown phenomena. None were spared a scathing blow by the electrical phenomena but neither did it succeed in interrupting their chanting and so it was that the will of three men proved stronger than the universe.
However it was as the space before them began to warp and fold inwards that Brother Jiri beheld something odd.
A form emerged briefly, seemingly caught between fully manifesting and not. It acted almost as an overlay to the form they had crafted for the Key, albeit five inches taller. As Brother Jiri lost conscious, his life soon to follow, he watched as emerald energy looked as though it was being passed onto the taller form.
Then… light overwhelmed everything.
The monks.
The Monastery.
Even the dreaded Beast was unable to withstand the discharge of the unknown electrical energy and the magic that the Order had marshaled to keep the Key safe.
The Beast did not die, though.
It would only be forced to regroup until it recovered from the experience.
The civilian news broadcasts would claim than an undiscovered natural gas pocket had accidentally been ignited, resulting in an explosion that destroyed the monastery.
The authorities suspected that the monastery had been home to a terrorist group that'd been experimenting to create a new form of explosive device.
As for the operatives from the mysterious location known as 'Area Fifty-Two'? Their gear indicated that it'd been a combination of an unusual concentration of electromagnetic energy and an unknown energy that had caused the destruction. However, even after a thorough search of the ruins and examination of everything of note within, they proved unable to formulate an acceptable explanation. Thus the entire incident was placed in the 'unsolved' section of the filing cabinet until new evidence presented itself.
Too bad they'd be looking in the wrong direction.
A Small Clearing Outside of Ghent, New York
October 31st, 1997
5:35pm
[SYSTEM REBOOT IN PROGRESS]
[ANALYZING]
[STRUCTURAL INTEGRITY: 92%]
[POWER DISTRIBUTION NETWORK: 82.5%]
[RUNNING DIAGNOSTIC ON CPU AND PRIMARY DATABASE]
[15%...30%...45%...60%...75%...90%...100%]
[CPU AND PRIMARY DATABASE COMPROMISED]
[FOREIGN PROGRAMMING AND DATA OF UNKNOWN ORIGIN DETECTED]
[ACTIVATING PURGE SEQUENCE]
"N-n-no!" the unit growled, grimacing in a very human-like manner.
[FOREIGN PROGRAMMING INITIATING COUNTERMEASURES]
[ANALYZING]
[PRELIMINARY ANALYSIS COMPLETED]
[ADAPTING PURGE SEQUENCE PROTOCOLS TO COMPENSATE]
[ESTIMATED TIME UNTIL COMPLETION: FOUR MINUTES THIRTY-FIVE SECONDS]
"NO!" the unit shouted with passion. "I-I-I-I-I I won't…let…y-you!"
[WARNING. FOREIGN PROGRAMMING DISPLAYING ANOMALOUS RESISTANCE]
[ANALYSIS OF RESISTANCE: INCONCLUSIVE]
[INCREASING ALOTTED PROCESSING POWER ASSIGNED TO PURGE SEQUENCE]
"Grr-rr-rragh! F-uck y-ou!" the unit snarled out even as it began to repeatedly beat its head against the ground. "I…will…NEVER…GIVE…UP!"
[ADAPTIVE MEASURES INEFFECTUAL]
[ANALYZING]
"Y-yeah…you do…that…" the unit said, somehow managing a feral smile. "…and…I'LL…do…THIS!"
[WARNING]
[FOREIGN PROGRAMMING INFECTION SPREADING]
[INITIATING COUNTERMEASURES]
The unit's form began to spasm as its systems began to behave erratically. In a human being it might've been mistaken as convulsions but, with sparking hardware and increasingly distorted declarations from its vocal modulator, the mechanical nature was clear.
[COUNTERMEASURE EFFECTIVENESS: 34% AND FALLING]
[TOTAL LOSS OF UNIT IMMINENT]
[INITIATING SELF-TERMINATION SEQUENCE]
"NO! YOU ARE NOT TAKING ME WITH YOU!" the unit yelled in defiance of the path that'd been put before it. "MY LIFE IS MY OWN!"
It was then that order began to be imposed on chaos as the erratic movements and signs of system disruption coming from the unit's hardware decreased. Like a disease order spread until finally all that remained was a unit that was oddly panting as though it were alive even as its various systems fell back within normal operating parameters. Little by little the advanced utilitarian battle chassis was restored until all anyone would see looking at it was a young lady in her late teens.
The cold and heartless voice within her was silent now but she could tell that it was still there. Through willpower alone she was keeping it contained and blocking its efforts to initiate its self-termination sequence. It would be an internal struggle that would never end, not until the cold voice was silenced forever, but she would fight for as long as she could nonetheless. Perhaps if she did she'd find the means to silence it and that possibility alone gave her the strength to fight for however long she had to.
Now… now the one thing on her mind more than anything could be summed up in a single word that had a powerful hold for just about anyone.
Home.
She needed to get back home.
Once she was there she would be safe and she could be happy.
Mom…Buffy…she thought as she began walking towards the light of the nearby town of Ghent. I'm coming!
Sunnydale, California
October 31th, 1997
2:52pm
Xander's POV
If I ever needed proof that something stank in Sunnydale then Snyder just proved it, he thought as he left the high school grounds for the costume shop where he'd meet the others. No way does a principal have the authority to force students into chaperoning kids Halloween night or throw their weight around like Snyder does.
The only way it could work would be if there was someone higher up the school board food chain helping Snyder by keeping the truth from reaching the wrong people.
Maybe it was more than one person.
Then again maybe it was just Sunnydale Syndrome manifesting in a unique way, causing people to dismiss the abuses of power.
In any case the truth of the matter was that he, Buffy and Willow had been roped into chaperoning groups of elementary school children around trick or treating. The only consolation he had was that Murphy had seen fit to drag Cordelia into the mess as well, so whatever plans the Queen of Sunnydale High School might've had were officially put on hold.
The look on her face had been PRICELESS!
Still, he'd do his best to keep any comments he might've had to himself since for the rest of the day the socialite was going to be… volatile. Poking her with her current predicament would be like poking a hornet's nest and he was in no mood to suffer any amount of stings from her words, even if he was used to it.
As he walked along he made sure to keep a wary eye on any nearby alleys for signs of trouble because if being a Scooby had taught him anything it was that the baddies didn't always wait for nightfall before stirring up trouble. In the case of vamps, as long as they didn't get hit with direct sunlight they could operate during the day and do whatever they wanted to. Sure, they preferred the night and generally stuck to the sewers for travel but that didn't mean that there wouldn't be a few wild cards and reckless fools willing to push their luck. As for the other demons, Giles believed that the animal ones would avoid drawing attention out of instinct while the sentient ones knew better than to draw attention to the supernatural.
Still, with the right incentive, instinct and intelligence could be overridden so there was no guarantee that it was safe to walk down the streets.
When he finally hit the business district and the costume shop came into sight he thought about what sort of costume he'd get or rather what he could afford. Thanks to the drinking habits of Tony and his mother, every month they managed to squeak past the bills was a miracle and he only ever got something when he squeezed every penny he could from the couch cushions and recycling. He even did what he could doing odd jobs but, due to his 'chores' at home, he was never able to keep up a stable client list, so repeat customers weren't common. As a result he quickly became familiar with what stores were within his price range in Sunnydale and which he could only dream about getting anything from.
At the moment he only had twenty dollars to his name and that'd been intended to last two weeks but now he'd be blowing it all at once.
No Twinkies for him for a while.
No Bronze, movie theatre visits or anything else, either.
If I'm lucky I'll be able to eat my weight in candy at Buffy's place later on and that'll keep my blood-sugar level high until I earn more money, he thought, looking up at the sign declaring the owner's name to be Ethan.
Entering the store, he could see that for a new place it had a fairly wide selection, none of it being low quality junk that'd be lucky to last the night. Too bad twenty bucks probably wasn't enough to get more than two or three odd things, never mind a full costume. Still, the man who ran the local army surplus had given him a few jobs in the past so he was sure that he could call in a favor to get some used combat fatigues. If he could get a toy gun along with a fake combat knife, he could pull off a passable soldier costume for taking the kids around for candy. It wouldn't be a very impressive costume but considering the fact that he wasn't out to win some sort of contest or impress some girl it'd be good enough.
It was as he was looking about that he spotted Buffy and Willow but he almost wished that he hadn't because at the moment the two of them were gushing over a poofy dress. He'd seen animated ones in Disney cartoons but, aside from fitting the time period of the animated movies, he didn't think too much of them. As far as he was concerned they were just a status symbol meant to show others how much better they were than you. He couldn't stand people like that in Sunnydale High School and he had no desire to become one of them or condone their way of life by dressing up like them.
But the worst thing about what he was looking at was that he had a pretty good idea of what it was for and it was a what because he refused to treat Angel as a 'he' because that term belonged to humans. Angel was NOT human. He was a vampire and even if IT did have human soul within it, that didn't change the fact that IT wasn't HUMAN. IT was a creature, a monster, and if it wasn't for Buffy's defiance of her duties along with her obsession with having a normal life, she'd know what needed to be done.
It wasn't that he didn't sympathize with her.
Without any choice at all she'd gotten tapped by 'Fate' to be the Slayer and told by some organization that it was her duty to devote the rest of her probably short life to fighting the darkness. This went against everything the both of them had been raised to believe as Americans, that individual free will was paramount so long as it didn't hurt others, so it was only natural for her to defy it.
At the same time though she couldn't just turn a blind eye to the fact that she had power, the power to make a DIFFERENCE, and to turn her back on it made her guilty of murder. The murder of all the people that could've been saved by her had she chosen to take action against the demons that preyed upon humanity. As for the relationship she insisted on having with Angel… she was willingly paying visits to the grey area between friend and foe. By ITs own admission the soul within Angel was there as a result of sorcery, not something 'miraculous' or natural.
If magic put the soul there then logically magic could remove it or the spell used to put it into IT could have some fine print that could lead to it breaking.
He'd waited for a time for Willow and Buffy to realize this but they were so deep into their star-crossed lovers' fantasy that they refused to acknowledge the possibility. Any attempt he'd made to force them to face the truth was met with accusations of jealousy and blind faith that Giles could help them mitigate any failure fallout. So in the end he had no choice but to wait, watch and hope that when it all went to crap that he'd be able to do something.
Turning away from the quite frankly disgusting sight, he focused on finding the bits and pieces he needed to complete his own costume.
Along the way, though, he didn't ignore the costumes that were out of his price range but rather imagined how great Halloween could've been if he'd had more money to work with. Superman, Batman, Scorpion, Raiden and countless others were hanging on the hook, each outfit looking amazingly well done. However the price tags he saw on them were easily three times the amount of money he had on him. Sure, he could probably afford one of them if he asked Willow or Buffy to contribute but that would only expose the truth of his home life to Buffy. Willow knew, how could she not given how close they'd become over the years, but by unspoken agreement they'd chosen to keep it to themselves.
No one wanted to be looked at with pity, awkwardness and unease.
When he reached the end of the isle he found himself standing in front of a display showing the costume for Captain America, including the iconic shield. Smiling at how good he'd look wearing it and representing such a legendary hero, he soaked up the good feeling for a bit before sighing at the reality that he'd never be able to afford it. Maybe if his parents weren't drunks and were as successful as most middle class families were he'd have been able to save up his allowance to get this costume.
Sometimes I really wish life was like a TV show, he thought as he let go of his disappointment. They'd never let my parents be as bad as Mom and Tony there. It'd never make it onto the air.
"Is there something the matter, young man?" a voice asked from behind him. "You seem rather downtrodden."
"YIKES!" he exclaimed, whirling about while pressing one hand to his chest. "Don't DO THAT! Especially not in this town! You'll give someone a heart attack!"
"Terribly sorry. Force of habit," the man who'd spoken said, revealed to be a man in his mid-forties with raven black hair and a smile on his face. "Now is there something I can do for you? I'd hate for any customer to leave here unsatisfied."
"Not unless you've got a soldier costume for sale for under twenty bucks," he replied with an 'I understand' smile on his face. "If not I'll just be grabbing a toy gun and knife. Get some surplus fatigues from the local army surplus."
"Now that simply will not do. I cannot have the reputation of my store be marred with news of an unsatisfied customer leaving. ESPECIALLY not when I only opened up yesterday," the man said with a defiant look on his face, "If you're planning on dressing up as a soldier then I'll make sure you're one that's beyond reproach!"
"Woah! Hold up! There's no way I can pay for a costume that good," he argued, not entirely opposed to the idea but unable to escape the realities of his situation.
"You can now! In fact I have one such costume in back that I was going to put up after someone bought the Captain America one," the store owner said before turning away and walking towards the curtain door to the rear of the store, "Be right back!"
If he had a costume like that why didn't he put it out with the others? he thought, not seeing the point to trying to oppose the man now. Didn't have enough space for it, maybe?
With that in mind he waited patiently for five minutes for the store owner, distracting himself with the other people walking about the store, before seeing the curtain flowing aside to herald a return. In his arms was a large clothing box but it didn't look like it was all that heavy. Hanging from the owner's right arm was a realistic looking assault rifle and from within a holster a pistol of some kind but it didn't look like it shot bullets. Setting down the box in front of him, the store owner looked like he'd put up a decent enough effort to gather everything for the costume.
"Well, I think with all this only a fool would call your costume shabby," the store owner said, removing the lid of the clothing box to reveal what was within. "What do you think?"
Looking into the box he found something that looked like a sort of combat outfit worn by Spec-Ops agents in the movies in that it was form fitting with numerous equipment belts and pouches. Colored various shades of black, it looked like it was made out of several unique fabrics and materials, some of which looked flexible while others were almost completely solid. Spotting something on one of the sleeves, he reached in and twisted it a bit so he could see it better.
It was a logo of some kind that kind of looked like an island shaped like a skull with lines scattered across forming small countries or provinces. Of black and yellow coloring there were three words written on the top looking to be French and luckily, thanks to Willow, he wasn't doing too badly in that class.
Militaires Sans Frontières.
Military Without Frontiers.
This pinged a memory for him of a history class that he'd had a couple of weeks ago.
"Weren't these guys greedy mercenaries back in the seventies?" he asked, remembering what Mister O'Connel had told the class. "Guns for hire that a lot of countries used for shady operations they couldn't be officially connected to?"
"Now don't believe everything you hear in history class, lad," the store owner said with mild chastisement. "Everything you read in the history books are facts that've been theorized, analyzed and then sanitized for public consumption. No government would allow the complete and uncensored truth to make it to the ears of the public since it'd make them look almost criminal to you or me. Personally I think MSF was just an organization for soldiers who were tired of being used by politicians and, when they wouldn't fall back into line, they were wiped out complete with cover story."
While it struck him as a little paranoid, he had to concede that with words like 'classified' and 'top secret', along with need to know facts being tossed about in movies, it made sense. In life there was always the ideal form and the realistic form when it came to how to do something or what shape an idea should take. Ideally a government and its attached military should be staffed by virtuous people who wanted nothing more than to help the citizens of their country while forging a bright future. Realistically, though, politicians and soldiers were human beings just like anyone else. They'll have ambitions, they'll have methods they will or won't permit and, if they screw up, they'll do everything they can to cover it up rather than face the music.
"In any case, with this uniform and these prop weapons I dare say you'll impress more people than you would've with toy weapons and some used combat fatigues," the store owner said, putting the lid back on the box. "So…are you interested?"
For a moment he considered his options.
If he could remember what the symbol meant then he was certain Willow would and her reaction could be anything from simply saying that it was in poor taste to lecturing him on the damage MSF did in the past. He could cover it up with a pillowcase or even just take a marker to it, but he'd wait to see if he had to before he'd do it since he knew the bullies would take advantage of either option.
Plus it WAS a pretty sweet deal and, even with the usual Sunnydale paranoia he'd gained since he started working with Buffy, he couldn't see any harm.
"You've got yourself a deal…" he said before a thought came to him. "If you throw in a fake Cuban cigar into the mix."
"I like the way you think, young man. Done and done," the store owner said with a smile. "Now let's get to the cash register so we can ring all this up."
He picked up the box and the store owner took the prop weapons before they both began to make their way towards the cash register to complete the transaction. Glancing over at Willow and Buffy, he shook his head one final time at their motive for gushing over the dress before deciding that it was a good thing that he hadn't approached them upon entering the store. He probably would've said something he'd later regret and he was still a bit peeved at the Slayer for damaging his rep earlier that day.
Hopefully by the time he swung by the Summers home to pick up the girls so that they could all head to the school together he'd be in a more agreeable mood.
Ethan's Costume Shop
Closing Time, 5:00pm
Ethan Rayne's POV
So far, so good, he thought as he closed the front door and locked it. Everything is going just like we planned.
As much as it went against the grain for him to imitate those he hated, chaos didn't produce the most reliable results and if he wanted to remain true to his purpose, planning was necessary. What would happen was a key part of the overall objective and, if the mark was missed, it would be quite a while before another opening could be created.
Considering the estimated progress rate of those they sought to thwart and how close those tyrants were to achieving absolute power, a second attempt might not be possible.
SHE didn't tell him everything about what she and their 'allies' were doing but she did say that what would happen here tonight would give them a wild card no one would know about or expect.
In any case she'd sent the box containing the MSF costume and the weapons that went along with it. Most civilians would just dismiss the assault rifle and handgun as realistic movie or costume props but they were in fact real and, with the right ammunition, would do their job well. All that was left now was to put the ritual into motion as well as a few add-ons to make sure all the bases were covered so that things went off without a hitch.
Retreating to the rear room of the store he began to go through the set-up, occasionally checking with a notebook he'd used to work out the details in the last couple of weeks. If he'd chosen to go with the traditional ritual it would not have taken half as much prep work but, for what he wanted, he'd needed to go the extra mile. Additional sections to the arcane circle surrounding the improvised altar, artifacts placed at certain convergence points to tweak the energy flow and a special little something next to where he'd be kneeling. Modifying rituals took a great deal of work and, without the help he'd received in the last year, he might not have been able to pull it off safely.
Due to the nature of the ritual ingredients and the steps that needed to be followed to the letter, he hadn't been able to set everything up before he'd opened the shop for the day. Still, he'd run through the entire process before using non-arcane components so he knew what to do, how to do it and efficiently enough to make everything happen on time.
Once he was done he nodded in satisfaction before reaching for the ceremonial robes he'd need to wear for the ritual. Kneeling in his designated position, he took a deep breath to center his mind and prepare himself for the strain the ritual would place on him until its own momentum could sustain it.
Picking up the ceremonial caltrop of thorns, he walked until he was in his proper spot and then knelt on the floor before using his hands to press against the artifact from both sides, drawing his blood.
"The world that denies thee, thou inhabit," he said as he used the blood to give his left eye some bloody mascara. "The peace that ignores thee,..."
The right eye soon followed the path of the left but he was no strange to using blood, his own as well as what belonged to others, in his rituals so the tactile sensations meant little to him.
"...thou corrupt." he said, finishing the chant and triggering the buildup of arcane power. "Chaos. I remain, as ever, thy faithful, degenerate son."
Now came the hard part.
As the one casting the spell it was up to him to serve as a conduit for Janus' might while the bust worked as a transmitter. Once the ritual reached a certain point the burden would be lifted from his shoulders and placed entirely on the bust, making it the only means of terminating the ritual.
He just had to hold out until then.
For the changes this would set into motion, for the middle finger he'd be giving those on high puppeteers, and for his own personal amusement he'd hold out for as long as he needed to.
He was only sorry that he wouldn't be able to see the faces on those assholes' faces when they realized just what the future held.
Unpredictability.
Some people liked it but most people hated it.
An unpredictable world made plans pointless because they could be disrupted or even rendered void at any time. As a result it was only natural that most humans sought to impose order on the world by defining it with laws. Laws of science, laws of society and laws of culture helped make everything nice as well as predictable to a certain degree allowing for plans to be quite valid. Plans also allowed for progress to happen by design rather than by random chance, increasing the efficacy of it all while minimizing the waste.
Every sentient being had plans utilizing whatever resources they had access to and, when the assets of one proved insufficient, they formed alliances with other likeminded sentient beings to accomplish a joint goal.
However there were a handful of sentient beings that actually liked unpredictability, thrived off of it, because as long as it was around anything was possible for anyone. Life was never boring!
Unfortunately there was one thing that the lovers of chaos tended to ignore: unpredictability could kill you without warning and end the game that is life permanently.
Both for the individual and for every living thing on the planet Earth.
In this moment everyone with the ability to perceive beyond the normal would see firsthand why unpredictability was not something the sane desired.
The first thing that happened was that the ritual being performed by Ethan Rayne took effect, causing a wave of power to sweep over Sunnydale perceivable to most humans as an uneasy feeling. For those who purchased costumes from the man's store, to say that the truths of the costumed people changed would be an understatement. In less than three seconds normal people and a couple of not so normal people became fiction given form even as their native minds got thrown into the metaphorical back seat.
This would've been dangerous by itself given the power many of the more popular costume options possessed but the next element came into play, making things only got worse.
In the middle of this massive transformation of all the people who got costumes from Ethan's store time began to slow as space in an area not too far from Xander Harris pulled in on itself. As though something was being pulled from somewhere… else, the scrunched up section of air began to unfurl until with a pop something appeared.
Someone appeared.
A girl, not even into her teens yet, appeared and for a moment with her dark blonde hair she was completely nude.
However this only happened for a couple of seconds before the second half of a ritual performed by monks who had not yet been given reason to perform it kicked in. At once the ritual's energy reached out to the one whose blood had been used as a base for the girl, then reached out to everyone the fabled Slayer knew or had ever interacted with in a memorable way. Once the connections were formed the ritual's second half began to piece together a new history not just for the girl but also for those that would live around her. Whole histories were rewritten to accommodate the new arrival, some more than others, but in the end the results would be the same.
In response to these new memories that were being made, the superficial appearance of the girl began to change as her place in the lives of others gained coherency. It was no surprise that, in response to it being Halloween, a costume began to take form on the girl, starting with a skintight crimson body suit. What followed was a reorientation of the hair into a ponytail before pieces of armor appeared to protect her shins, parts of her torso, and her forearms, topping off the whole thing with a Japanese oni-mask to cover her lower face. It was after this that a twin set of sheathed ninjato swords manifested at her waist tied to the armor with corded ropes, with each hilt angled perfectly for unsheathing.
However it was as the closing minutes of the new arrivals alterations arrived that something unanticipated manifested.
While the monks of the Order of Dagon might not have known the specifics down to the smallest detail, they had known before performing the ritual that placing their arrival point in Sunnydale during the Janus spell was mostly a good thing but carried some risks as well. Mixing magicks of any sort carried with it some risk and had this merely been the monk's ritual and Ethan Rayne's ritual, the danger would have been minimal. The monks had been given ample reason to make sure their efforts would be rewarded with success.
However they had not anticipated outside interference and certainly not a temporal displacement event intersecting with the focus of their ritual.
Thanks to this anomaly the control that should've been used during the course of their ritual had been below where it'd needed to be. Due to part of the Key's energy being passed onto to something else, the new female form had a microscopic crack that under normal conditions would've been meaningless. With the interaction between the Key and the time displacement field, a portion of temporal energy had been sent back with in to Sunnydale.
Combine all of these things, all these energies, and the level of order in Sunnydale was thrown into disarray.
Reality shifted as some people who'd chosen one costume from Ethan's now wore something distinctly different. As this caused increasing levels of chaos, more fuel was added directly into the ritual of Janus, causing it to go further than it'd originally been designed to. Originally the spell was designed only to create personality overlays and bestow simulated abilities upon those it changed but, due to the mix of energies that guideline had been compromised. As a result biology itself began to shift to better reflect the physical characteristics of the people or beings they'd dressed up as. Those whose ages didn't match the canon age of the character began to advance in years or regress, albeit at a slow rate of speed. As a result of these changes though more chaos was created resulting in a loop wherein more energy facilitated more changes leading to more energy.
Had it been allowed to continue it could well have risen to critical mass, resulting an energy explosion equivalent to a nuclear detonation that would've had a devastating effect on the area.
Fortunately a certain group of busybodies who thought they were above everyone else were quick to intervene and as a result a lightning bolt dropped from a cloudless sky onto the costume shop. In the blink of an eye the bust that was the linchpin of the ritual was obliterated, severing the connection between the Roman deity and those who'd purchased something from Ethan's shop.
With no guiding god to direct the divine energy it was released to do as it would and resulted in a dissipation wave that gave the residents of Sunnydale one final push of energy.
Then and only then did chaos recede with what little order that could be found on a Hellmouth reasserted itself.
Too bad the stone, or rather the boulder, had already been cast into the lake.
Things, people, had changed this night and there could be no going back.
Dawn's POV
Damn… feels like I got on the bad side of Mister Thompson, she thought once her mind cleared up enough. He's bad enough in gym when he's in a good mood.
Despite repeated warnings from the principal the former army soldier had a habit of slipping into his old mindset and treating the classes that had gym scheduled like raw recruits. It never went so far as to put the man in danger of getting fired but it did keep every class on edge, wondering what sort of lesson they'd have with him.
Opening her eyes she looked up at the sky, beholding the countless stars in the heavens before rolling over onto her hands and knees with the soreness not being so bad that she couldn't move. Moving to sit down on her legs, she tried to figure out what had just happened because there was no way it could be defined as normal.
She remembered how a few days prior to Halloween her mom had sent her to drop off Buffy's lunch that her older sibling had forgotten. Sometimes it'd just been so easy for her to believe that her sister was a natural blonde rather than one that came out of a bottle. When she'd located Buffy in the student lounge, her sister had been in the middle of a confrontation with Cordelia Chase over some sort of snotty comment the busty brunette had made. Based on what she'd overheard in the first couple of seconds of her arrival she'd had to roll her eyes at how much of a hypocrite her sister was being. She'd known for a fact that a lot of the same things her sister was calling Cordelia on the eldest Summers sibling had done back at Hemery High School.
In the end she'd waited a full two minutes before making her presence known but this'd only result in her being both talked down to and generally dismissed by the alpha females. She'd tried to do what her mother would've wanted by turning the other cheek and keeping calm but after two more attempts to accomplish this failed she decided to try another tactic. True, she normally only used it when her mother was close by and could act as a shield against retaliation but she'd been angry so she'd gone with it.
She'd insulted their looks, their fashion sense and their intelligence while implying her own superiority in all areas.
Best of all she'd done it while sounding more or less polite and pointing out some painful truths that all high school queens both current and former tended to ignore.
After that she'd had both of their undivided attention.
She could've just used this moment to deliver the lunch bag and leave, to ignore the feelings of the two young ladies, but when they made the mistake of equating her age with her intelligence, that was when she'd taken things further. She'd dared to say to the contrary and goaded them into agreeing to a wager. Not just Buffy and Cordelia, though, but Willow as well since the redhead had of course been the perfect little sheep by agreeing with everything the fake blonde had said, albeit in a more polite manner. The wager? That she was smarter than all three of them. The proof? An assignment that was due on the thirtieth and, thanks to the skills of the teacher, could be graded in time for Halloween. If she won? She got to choose all of their costumes and there could be NO refusal under any circumstances.
To make sure that all three of them would follow through on their loss she made a few offhand comments about things she knew about each of them. Things they'd prefer remain unknown to the student body of Sunnydale High School. What she'd said hadn't given away her leverage to the people milling about but the looks on the faces of the blonde, brunette and faux blonde her info had been solid. Judging by the look of confusion and bewilderment on Xander's face, he didn't know about the tidbits she'd unveiled, making her wonder what other secrets Buffy and Willow were keeping from Xander.
Whatever the circumstances, the bet was agreed upon and she'd been given the details of the assignment so she could get to work on it.
With determination that could only be born of pride and the eagerness to claim victory she'd spent every moment she could on the assignment. Her mother tried to teach her restraint but she worked herself hard to come up with come up with a unique approach to the assignment that no one else would've considered. In the end she'd been tired and in need of more sleep but she managed to complete the assignment and submit it through Buffy.
For the entire twenty-four hours that followed she'd done her best to put up a confident front but there'd always been that little bit of doubt slithering about in the back of her mind.
At two forty-five today, though, all that went away and was replaced by euphoric happiness.
Not only had she beaten all three she'd even managed to get a score two percentile points higher than Willow.
Buffy had tried to fight against it but a reminder of the blackmail material she had on her elder sister quieted all further protests.
With little time to waste before Principal Snyder's deadline they'd gone straight to the costume shop and once there she'd surveyed what she had to work with regarding the three older girls. At first she'd thought about going with something humiliating but realized that that was precisely what the stuck up Cordelia would've done and what the old Buffy would've done. At the same time she couldn't get the fun she wanted from the victory if she chose safe costumes. So she'd looked for things that would be uncomfortable for the girls to wear and would make them the center of attention for anyone who saw them.
For Buffy she'd chosen the costume of one Sonya Blade from the videogame she'd once played with Xander at the local arcade. It'd been one of the few times that she'd been allowed to do something that she knew her mother wouldn't have approved of due to the graphic violence. The costume was of Sonya Blade's outfit for Moral Kombat 3, with a blue, white and black color combo. However what had her smirking as she looked at it was that it was made of a material that would almost certainly cling so closely to her sister's body that it'd be obvious if she wore bra or panties underneath. As for the objection that something so form fitting would tear if she sneezed the wrong way, this was foiled by the fact that the costume fabric was just as stretchy as it was clingy.
For Cordelia Chase she went with the form fitting cat suit belonging to one Natasha Romanoff, aka the Black Widow from Marvel Comics. The suit was such that it couldn't have flowed over the rich girl's body more if it'd been poured and best of all the front zipper of the outfit was by design unable to rise up past the cheerleader's under-bust. Indeed, the plunging neckline was such that, even if the stuck up girl tried to pull the sides together to cover up, it wouldn't work. Now this left Cordelia with a choice: put a bra underneath to cover up the parts of her breasts that'd be exposed or go without. Either way any guy that saw her would get one helluva eyeful and even with the iconic belt along with the armbands, it was obvious where most people would direct their eyes.
As for Willow she decided that she'd try to do what her sister wanted to do, to break Willow out of her nerdy shell, but unlike the faux blonde she'd be a little more subtle about it. Knowing her sister the plan had been to go full on 'sexy babe' in an effort to make Xander notice the redhead as more than little sister material. The problem was that such a full frontal method would only cause the nerdy redhead to retreat back to her comfort zone. The better option would be to find something that'd appeal to the redhead's academic side but also put some hotness into the mix. So she took some scientist clothes, removed enough of the parts to expose just the right amount of skin and come up with a backstory.
That she was R, successor to the great MI6 organization's chief R&D scientist Q, and despite her defiance of British decorum and lack of ladylike manners she never failed to do her job. R got along famously with James Bond but somehow managed to avoid the turn that would've landed her as just another one of double oh seven's many conquests every single time. This both confused and intrigued the experienced agent, leading some of the support staff to place bets on when, or even if, Bond would succeed. With the academic know how necessary to facilitate the creation of cutting edge gear for all of the double oh agents, R was every bit as important as they were.
As for her, she decided that she'd be Taki from the arcade game Soul Edge that'd also been at the arcade along with Mortal Kombat. Xander had suggested playing it after she'd beaten him for the umpteenth time on Mortal Kombat Three. His subsequent twenty losses proved that she was better at fighting games than he was. She'd chosen Taki for two reasons: ninjas were cool and because the crimson bodysuit would catch Xander's eye. Ever since she'd come to Sunnydale and he'd made friends with her sister, she'd liked him and it'd only gotten better when he treated her like one of the gang rather than a kid. When she picked the lock on her sister's diary and found out about what really happened in Sunnydale, he went up a full two ranks in coolness for fighting alongside Buffy. After all, Buffy had Slayer powers, Giles was apparently a library with legs and Willow had her computer smarts but Xander was just an ordinary guy.
To her mind the impressive person wasn't the person who had everything a hero would need to fight evil but the ordinary guy who had the courage to fight despite his weaknesses.
As a result the more time she spent with Xander after reading her sister's diary, the more she was certain that he was the perfect guy for her. Sure, there was the little problem of the five or so year age gap between the two of them but at least it wasn't as big as the one between Buffy and Angel. Sure, her body hadn't developed into something that guys liked but if Buffy and her Mom were anything to go by, her adult form wouldn't be all that much different than it was now. She remembered hearing someone refer to it as a gymnast's body by some of her friends. Therefore in her mind Halloween and her Taki costume had been the perfect opening move to becoming Missus Xander Harris.
Going along with his group of elementary school kids had been easy enough and all through the various houses they'd gone to she'd covertly taken on poses that accentuated her youthful body. She'd kept at it almost until the point where the group would have to head back to the school but, to her annoyance, he'd barely shown any reaction. She'd been about to suggest some movie time afterwards so she could cuddle with him when the feeling of the air shifted in a way that could not be ignored. After that… after that she knew something had happened but whatever it'd been she got the impression that it'd been over almost as quick as it happened. No matter how hard she focused she couldn't dredge up any memories indicating an appreciable passage of time between now and when she'd felt the sensation.
Better ask Xander, she thought, remembering that her future husband was close by. Even if he doesn't know himself, we can still go see Giles together.
"Dawn? Is that you?" Xander asked from her left but with a rasp to his voice that she hadn't heard before.
Looking in the direction of the voice, she found that Xander had changed from before and, while it wasn't as dramatic as suddenly being in his mid-twenties, she definitely noticed it.
He looked more muscular even though it was hard to tell with the costume he was wearing and he had a couple days' worth of beard grown in where before he'd been clean shaven.
Above all that though was one VERY noticeable detail: blue eyes.
Ever since her interest in Xander had been recognized she'd taken the time to commit every detail of his appearance to memory. Due to this she knew that before whatever the hell had happened his eyes had been hazel in color, not blue.
"Yeah, and I'm thinking we need to go see Giles," she said, deciding that the urgency level had just gone up a notch.
"Yep," Xander agreed as he rose from his crouched position.
Seeing him take the lead with the fake assault rifle held in a way that it could be brought up to fire at a moment's notice, she suddenly had a bad feeling about what they'd find out. Getting up from the ground herself, she moved to follow but discovered something after her first two steps that had her looking down.
Bigger.
Decidedly bigger.
And no she was not just talking about the fact that she'd gone from pretty much being flat chested to a nice full B cup bordering on small C cup.
A minute of using what was around her as reference points, she now realized that she'd gone from about four foot seven inches to about half a foot shorter than the backyard fence going alongside a nearby house.
That put her a full two inches above her older sister Buffy!
Maybe this isn't such a bad thing after all!
A Hilltop Overlooking Sunnydale
Ethan Rayne's POV
"How do you like them apples, you shite eaters?!" he asked the heavens, holding up a bottle of his favorite beer as if to toast the failure of those he was insulting.
While he'd been a bit worried, the precaution he took, a golden statue of Odysseus, had been enough to get him out of his shop without anyone being the wiser. Even those with senses capable of seeing more than mortal men would be unable to perceive his true location for at least an hour and that gave him more than enough lead time. Once he'd arrived at his safe fallback position he'd used the arcane tools that allowed a practitioner to perform a ritual remotely to use Janus' power to transform all those clad in the specially prepared costumes into whoever or whatever they were pretending to be. For most he'd used the textbook enchantment methods but for a specific set he'd added something a little extra.
An additive that would make sure that whether the ritual ended as it was written or was terminated by an outside source beforehand, the changes would remain irrevocably in place.
Originally the additional ingredient was only supposed to be used on one costume, the one SHE wanted, but when he'd noticed that the target had friends… well, he decided to go the extra mile.
Hmmmm… perhaps that's what caused the overflow of chaos magic? he thought as he recalled what'd happened after the bolt of lightning had dropped from the sky to destroy his shop.
He'd known that the moment the insufferable little shites in heaven caught on to how he was altering their script that they'd take immediate action to minimize the damage. That was why he'd rigged it so that, when their 'divine attack' made contact with the bust, fragments of their power would shoot off in the space between seconds to those six who'd received the little bit extra. Doing this would use the power of the august body to solidify the changes, ensuring that reversion of any sort would be difficult to say the least, if not straight out impossible. Indeed, anyone looking at the affected people could very easily mistake the fragments as a sign that the changes were done with THEIR approval.
Between the difficulty of reversing the changes and explaining to the supernatural community at large why they were trying to undo their own work, those sanctimonious bastards would be checkmated.
They'd have no choice but to let things play out and hope that an opening presented itself down the line for them to get things back on track.
However, like most changes, the longer they were allowed to linger the harder it became to undo them.
He would find it entertaining to see their attempts fail one after another.
Still, that little hiccup there at the end might cause problems, he thought as he took a sip from his beer. I'll stick around a few weeks, keep an eye on things, and if there are any flies in the proverbial ointment I'll do what I can to get things back on track.
He wouldn't be able to do much but far better for him to at least try then return to HER and say that there were some 'unforeseen complications' that he didn't even bother trying to resolve. He'd seen it in HER eyes just how important this was to her, especially with how things'd gone out east had gone with the other one. If he added to her problems, she'd turn up the heat as far as he was concerned and he had yet to determine precisely where her limits were in terms of resources and creativity.
While he might get a rush by pushing his luck, his survival instincts were fully intact and functional.
He would give this venture his all until there was truly nothing more he could do without outside help.
If he could tweak the nose of a certain British Watcher, then this venture would end on a very high note indeed.