"LA isn't far and I've always wanted to go there," Xander said to himself as he figured out where to head to next. "Of course that's also where Deadboy moved to and with my luck I'd run right into him."
Xander drummed his hands on the steering wheel for a moment before deciding, "San Francisco it is."
LA was close enough that he could visit it anytime while San Francisco was far enough away that he'd probably need more than a three day weekend to visit and spend time there. Besides, he'd heard good things from friends who had gone.
Singing along with the radio, the top down, Xander continued on his way, putting even more miles between him and Sunnydale when he noticed a guy in a black trenchcoat carrying a plaid carpet bag hitchhiking.
He pulled over. "Hop in."
"Thanks man," the hitchhiker said, tossing his bag in the backseat, "I've been out here for about an hour and you're the first person that stopped."
"Xander Harris," Xander said, shaking his hand. "Where you headed?"
"James," he replied, "Anywhere I can find a phone will do, the company I had make my one person blimp did a shoddy job so I gotta get them to come out and make repairs."
Xander pulled back onto the road. "One person blimp? That sounds like a fun way to travel."
"It is," James agreed with a bright smile, "but the adhesive they used on the seams was faulty and I started losing gas like a fat man at a chili cook-off. Had to land it in a field just off the highway."
"And Triple A doesn't cover aircraft," Xander joked.
"Bingo," James said. "Thankfully it's still under warranty so the company will foot the repair costs."
The wind blew open James' trenchcoat revealing a very colorful costume composed of black and red striped trousers, red and blue striped top and curly blue elfin boots.
"Performer?" Xander guessed.
"Acrobat, juggler, fire eater, stand up," James listed off, "I pretty much do it all. What do you do?"
"Nothing yet," Xander replied, "just graduated high school and I'm taking the time to see the sights before I gotta settle down to a nine to five."
"Ouch," James said with a wince. "I've tried the nine to five and I hated it. I actually work longer hours and do more doing what I do, but… it doesn't feel like work, ya know?"
"I hear ya," Xander agreed, "unfortunately the things I like to do rarely make money so I'm more of a work to live not live to work kinda guy."
"It's not a bad way to be," James admitted.
Traffic slowed down and Xander looked around to see what was causing it.
"Look up," James suggested.
Xander glanced up and spotted a brown winged figure soaring past at a great distance. "Still getting used to that," he said with a sigh.
"Hawk people?" James asked.
"Superheroes," Xander said. "The mayor of my town cast a spell that prevented us from knowing superheroes were real, so until I left town I only knew about them from comic books and cartoons."
"Whoa!" James made an explosion sound and threw his hands up. "That's a mind blower!"
"Big time," Xander said, "and now I'm left wondering what else the mayor didn't want us knowing about that I have no clue about."
"Maybe he only blocked superheroes," James suggested.
"No, he also blocked all knowledge of Santa Claus," Xander said, "which was even more surprising than superheroes."
"You didn't know about Santa?!"
"Not that he was real," Xander replied, "we were all told it was just something made up like Smokey the Bear and the Tooth Fairy."
"Tooth Fairy is real," James told him, "just isn't seen a lot these days since people stopped having large families."
"What?" Xander asked, confused.
"The Tooth Fairy only pays for the teeth placed under the pillow of the sixth child," he explained. "Most families stop at three or four kids, so…"
"Why only the sixth child?" Xander asked.
"No clue, you'd have to find some magic type to ask," James replied, "I just know because my family came from Europe and the Tooth Fairy is still pretty active over there."
"The world is weirder than I know," Xander said in a faux British accent, making James laugh.
"Any idea why your Mayor put up the spell?"
"He wanted to sacrifice my entire senior class so he could turn into an Olvikan, an ancient snake demon who could rip open the Mouth of Hell and release Hell on Earth," Xander replied.
"Well, since you're here I'm guessing the heroes arrived in time to save the day?" James guessed.
"Not really," Xander said, "they did almost as much harm as good and our original plan ended up working."
"What was your original plan?" James asked, fascinated.
"I filled the high school library with fuel oil bombs which a friend of mine was going to lure him into while the other detonated it," Xander explained. "Luckily Superman punched him into the library so that still worked out. Meanwhile the entire senior class was facing down an army of vampires and Flash disarmed us all."
"The Flash did what?!"
"Yeah, and then Doctor Fate told him to look behind him, so the Flash turns around and realizes why we were all armed. He staked the entire army so fast that if you blinked you would have missed it."
James laughed. "I am so teasing him the next time I see him!"
"You know him?"
"I live in Central City, everybody knows him," James said with a grin.
"I was pissed for about three seconds," Xander said with a sigh. "I'd spent weeks turning my entire senior class into a half decent militia and he disarmed us all, leaving us at the mercy of walking corpses who didn't have any, but then he wiped them all out and proceeded to search the town with Superman to get the rest of them. Now that bought a lot of forgiveness in my books."
"You had weeks to plan it but couldn't… the spell," James said with a groan.
"Dick spent over a century setting things up for his ascension and in the span of weeks we set him up to bomb," Xander joked.
"Bad pun," James said with a groan and a grin.
"I will say the heroes saved a lot of lives though," Xander admitted. "We were looking at, at least a thirty percent casualty rate and that was if things went well."
"Jesus," James said, wincing.
"Yeah, so overall I'm thankful, but I still want to call him a dick," Xander said.
"He's a good guy, but he'll admit he ain't perfect," James said.
"Well shit, if he doesn't have a big head about the hero thing I can't even call him a dick," Xander said, speeding up as the traffic cleared.
"Call him a dick anyway," James said, "he's heard worse. You should hear what Captain Boomerang has called him."
"Captain Boomerang?" Xander asked.
"Part of the Central City Rogues Gallery," James replied. "He's Australian so I'm not sure what even half the insults mean, but I'm pretty sure some were a lot worse than dick."
"Where you have superheroes you also have supervillains," Xander realized.
"Boomy doesn't have any superpowers, he's just really good with boomerangs," James said, "but yeah with a good theme and a costume anyone could be a supervillain."
"I'm used to dealing with demons and vampires," Xander said, shaking his head, "not sure how to handle supervillains."
"Let the professionals handle them," James said, "it's not your job."
Xander winced. "I can't just stand by and watch people get killed."
"Killed?" James asked, confused for a moment. "Oh, supervillains generally don't kill anyone, except for in Gotham, but that's a completely separate subject. The Central City Rogue's Gallery has standards. No harming women and children and absolutely no killing. They put on costumes, pull a heist with a great deal of theatrical flare, and either escape or get caught. I'm pretty sure half the tourists are there just to see if they can be used as hostages to brag about later."
"Huh," Xander said, "that's… pretty respectable."
"Exactly," James said, pleased Xander got it. "Of course, that's just in Central City. Other cities do things differently. Metropolis is the home of Superman and his villains are generally pretty powerful and don't give two shits about people who get in the way. Superman is pretty good about saving everyone, but it's still a danger. Now Gotham…"
"Gotham?" Xander asked.
"Avoid. The place is cursed and the villains insane," James said bluntly. "The most famous villain in Gotham is The Joker and he's killed hundreds. They aren't like the rogues in Central City, a lot of them are insane serial killers in costumes."
"Joy," Xander said. "Any reason they haven't gotten the death penalty?"
"Bribes, corruption, a democratic majority," James said with a shrug. "There is a reason you don't find their kind in Texas. Gotham is basically… where all the crazy people live."
"I'll definitely avoid it," Xander said. "Man, I have a lot to learn."
"Check the Yelp reviews," James suggested, "It really helps. Gotham McDonald's, one star, the service was fast and cheap, but a green lady commanded the bushes surrounding the play area to kill us."
Xander burst out laughing.
"Most cities don't have Supers running around, it's kind of a niche business," James said, "and easy enough to avoid or put on tights and join in if you're really bored."
"I'll remember that," Xander said, feeling a bit better about things.
"Offramp," James said, causing Xander to switch lanes.
Xander pulled into a large truck stop just off the highway. "Here we go. It was nice meeting you."
"Thanks man, if you ever visit Central City be sure to look me up, my full name is James Jesse, like Jesse James but the reverse."
"Will do, good luck with your blimp problem," Xander said with a wave before getting back on the road.
A while later when his stomach began to growl he saw a sign for a diner and decided to pull off.
It was a simple diner, probably had been around since the 50's from the décor, Xander guessed as he took a seat at the counter.
"What will you have, hun?" a plump older woman behind the counter asked with a smile.
"Burger, fries, coke," Xander listed off, "I'm not picky, make it however you want."
"Pepperjack cheese burger, toasted bun with barbecue sauce, crinkle cut seasoned fries, light on the salt, and a large coke," she told him.
Xander licked his lips. "I'm already drooling," he told her.
"Be back in a minute," she told him as she slapped a ticket on the counter for the cook before going to get him a coke.
"Hey Flo, you heard anything about what those grave robbers are doing over at Sam's place?" an older black man in well worn coveralls asked as he dropped onto the stool next to Xander's.
"Hey George," she greeted him as she gave Xander his coke. "I think they prefer to be called archaeologists these days."
"What's the difference between an archaeologist and a grave robber," George replied with a snort.
"Fifty years and a government grant," Xander replied without thinking about it, having had that very same conversation with the gang before.
Flo and George turned to look at him in disbelief for a second before bursting out laughing.
"No, seriously," Xander said, "that really is the difference, it's all that's legally required in half the states in the US."
"George Cousins," the man said, offering a hand.
Xander shook it, feeling the callouses and figuring George for an old school workman. "Alexander Harris, my friends call me Xander."
The door to the diner swung open and two men in khaki gear rushed in.
"I need to use your phone!" one exclaimed in a panic.
"Public phone is on the wall," Flo told him.
"What's the panic?" George asked the other who was trying to catch his breath while his friend was digging change out of his pocket.
"Zombies!" the man exclaimed.
"One zombie," the other corrected and he paid the payphone.
"One zombie," the man corrected himself, "but he had guns and was dressed in clothes that were falling apart from somewhere in the early 1800's."
"Glad the guns didn't work," the one on the phone said as he dialed.
"Well the cave was pretty damp, rust would have ruined them unfortunately," he said, shaking his head.
"So… single zombie cowboy without working guns?" Xander asked.
"One isn't enough?" the archaeologist asked in disbelief.
"Not enough to panic over," Xander said. "Anyone have a decent sword… or an axe?" he asked hopefully.
"Just sharpened my hand axe," George offered.
"Order up in five," the cook called out from the kitchen.
"That's usually more than enough time to take out a zombie," Xander said. "Care to lend me your axe?"
"Dealt with zombies before?" George asked, surprised.
"Yeah," Xander agreed, "they aren't a big problem as long as you know what they are in advance."
The man who was on the phone hung up and rejoined his friend. "Justice League said they'd send someone but that it was low priority so it may take a while."
"I should probably take care of it before he wanders off," Xander decided. "Where is it?"
"Are you serious?" one of the archaeologists, at least Xander guessed they were, asked.
"Yeah," Xander said, "Zombies are the easiest undead to deal with. Was he talking or just mindlessly attacking?"
"He was yelling something," one of the two men admitted, "but I'm afraid I didn't catch what he was saying."
"It sounded like English," the other offered.
"Intelligent undead then," Xander decided, "more dangerous, but still pretty small beans. Let me borrow your axe and give me some directions and I'll take care of it."
"I'll give you a ride, it'll be faster," George offered. "Flo, I'll have my usual."
"I'll have it ready by the time you get back," she said.
"You've dealt with zombies before?" one of the two asked.
"Both kinds," Xander assured him as he followed George to his truck, an old battered farm truck, the bed filled with landscaping tools. He climbed in the passenger side as George started up the truck.
"Aren't zombies infectious?" George asked as he pulled out of the parking lot. "In the movies they usually are."
"No," Xander said, "or at least not usually. There's usually some magical artifact or ritual required to make one."
"What should I do if he takes you out?" George asked with a frown.
"Call me a dumbass and run him over with your truck," Xander replied. "They aren't strong enough to lift a truck, so if you park on him he isn't going anywhere."
"And we're here," George said, pulling into the driveway of a ranch style home less than a mile from the diner, the hill beside it showing where erosion had exposed a cave.
"Axe," Xander asked as he got out.
"Under the seat," George replied.
Xander reached under the seat and found the axe. "Nice edge," he complimented before shutting the door.
"Ollie ollie oxen free!" Xander called out, looking for where the zombie might be hiding.
"Run away, I'm trying to kill you!" a voice warned from the cave before the corpse came out, a large hole in its side all but announcing what it was if the desiccated skin and decayed clothes from centuries past didn't.
"No way to solve this diplomatically?" Xander asked as he eyed the zombie, wondering why it had a trace of a British accent.
"The shaman who cursed me ordered me to kill anyone who opened my tomb," the zombie said while lurching towards him. "Sorry, not something I can control."
"Why are so many magic users assholes?" Xander asked as he circled to the side of the zombie, moving much quicker than it could.
"No idea, but he really was," the zombie said, just before being knocked to the ground minus its right arm by a swing of the axe. "I'm trying to draw my pistol but the moisture in the cave has probably ruined the cartridge," the zombie told Xander as he got back to his feet.
"Best not to chance it," Xander said, darting to the side and taking his other arm.
"Don't forget the legs," the zombie said, "I don't think I could kick you to death, but you never know."
"I've got it," Xander promised, bringing the axe in to permanently ground the zombie with just a couple of blows.
"I think that's got it," the zombie announced, sounding relieved. "Make sure my limbs aren't moving on their own."
Xander scanned the ground. "Nope, they're dead."
"Blessed Mary, it's so good to have that over with," the limbless zombie said. "Might I trouble you with burning my corpse? Being stuck in a cave was maddening. If not for the sounds of plays leaking through a crack in the stone, I'd have lost my mind, but still, I'm more than ready to pass on now."
A jeep pulled up and the two archaeologists got out and cautiously approached.
"Now what?" one of them asked.
"Build a bonfire to throw me in and say the Lord's prayer over the ashes," the zombie suggested.
"It can speak!"
"I can speak," the zombie said with a huff, "and my name was Jason Debois."
"Can you at least tell us about the burial site before we burn you?" one of the archaeologists all but begged.
"That's not a problem," Jason agreed, "though it's a very boring tale."
"Let me get my recorder!"
Xander turned to George. "Let's go get lunch."
"This was a lot easier than I thought it would be," George said as Xander put the axe under the seat and climbed in.
"It was a good axe," Xander said, "and I really should get me some decent weapons and coat them in silver, but I didn't expect to need them while on vacation."
"I can probably help with that," George offered, "but lunch first, I don't want to upset Flo by not getting back in time."
"Amen," Xander said as his stomach growled loudly.
Typing By: Abyssal Angel
Beta By: Abyssal Angel and Mist of Shadows