Title: Fifth Knight (1/?)
Feedback: Please be gentle.
Distribution: Gimme credit and a link. Plus, archived at http://fanfiction.net/profile.php?userid=62966 or http://fanfiction.net/~cyclone
Rating: I'm gonna go say PG.
Spoilers: Up to Chosen and Moonlight Rambler.
Disclaimer: The characters depicted herein belong to a bunch of other people. I'm just borrowing them for a while.
Summary: Decades into the future, while investigating a string of "vampire murders" in Japan, Xander Harris finds himself with something very unexpected.
Author's Note: Okay, does anyone have any suggestions on how to shut down a plot bunny farm? Well, at least I'm pretty sure no one's done THIS crossover before... and if you're not already familiar with BGC, this first part won't make a whole lot of sense.
* * *
I'm not sure what I was expecting -- I dunno, actual _vampires_ maybe? -- but it sure as hell wasn't _this_.
Well, I guess I should start from the beginning. The mission was simple enough: Investigate the so-called "vampire murders" in MegaTokyo.
I didn't really have very many options. Evidence was thin, and there were neither witnesses nor survivors. Judging from the way some of the vehicles were trashed, the vampire obviously had some serious extra muscle, so making myself look like a tempting target was _not_ an enticing plan.
Unfortunately, it was the only one I had.
--Excerpted from the Operational Journal of Alexander L. Harris
* * *
Xander Harris sat in the rental car. The radio was on, but he wasn't listening to it at all. It was more for appearance's sake than anything else. Restlessly, he lowered the sun shade and glanced in the vanity mirror.
He shouldn't look this young. He shouldn't _feel_ this young. His aging had virtually stopped since he'd intercepted that energy stream on Kingman's Bluff. Even now, at fifty-two, he was still physically in his mid-twenties.
He grimaced as his hand unconsciously reached down and met armor. The damn composite armor -- light enough to be unencumbering, yet strong enough to stop most small arms -- had kept him from scratching that _maddening_ itch all night tonight _and_ the the past four nights as well.
Xander jerked his head up, and a faint red glow appeared in his left eye as he activated the thermal overlay.
Of all the things he'd anticipated -- demon mercs, boomers, powered suits -- a battlemover was _not_ among them.
Using a battlemover against civilian targets totally redefined the term "overkill."
He flung the door open and bolted.
Something slammed into his side and sent him flying. The armor bore the brunt of the impact, but it still hurt enough to make him almost pass out.
Somehow, he clung to consciousness. Eyes closed, he heard something hiss and snap, followed by a distinctly feminine grunt and the sound of someone landing. Footsteps approached him cautiously, and something prodded at his foot.
Xander swept his leg, tripping his attacker even as he lunged over to land on top of her, ramming his Super-Shorty against her neck as she struggled to throw him off. "At this range," he hissed, "this gun'll blow your head clean off your shoulders."
She froze, and he took a moment to look at her. She had dark hair and peculiar yellow eyes -- not necessarily a sign of vampirism anymore, considering the cosmetics technology available -- and she was, ahem, quite full-figured.
The shock and fear on her face vanished, replaced with anger as her eyes literally flashed. His other hand moved immediately to cover her eyes.
"Nuh-uh," he said. "None of that 'look into my eyes' crap."
It was then that something finally registered.
She was warm.
He blinked and reactivated the thermal overlay.
*What the hell is going on here?!*
Xander debated his options for a long moment. He'd originally been planning to question his assailant on accomplices, but her non-vampiness complicated matters. He doubted he'd get all the answers he needed before some passerby showed up.
He nodded to himself, and with a sharp blow, knocked her unconscious. His gaze swept over to the battlemover.
*Well, I can't exactly leave _that_ thing lying around, now, can I?* he thought sourly, then sighed.
*I guess all those video games I played might be good for something after all.*
* * *
Sylvie groaned as her eyes fluttered open. She gasped when she realized she was bound to a chair and blindfolded.
*No. No!* she thought as fear welled up within her.
"Hey, calm down," came a gentle, masculine voice, but that didn't help her state of mind at all.
"Let me GO!" she howled.
"No one's going to hear you here," the voice said. "I don't want to hurt you. I just need some answers. Why are you attacking people? You're no vampire."
"I..." she trailed off. He didn't know? "Why did you kidnap me?" she demanded, struggling with the bindings.
An exasperated sigh burst from the darkness, "Because I want people to stop DYING! Is that so hard to understand? I'm not your enemy. I just want to stop the killing. Why are you killing these people?"
She didn't answer.
Her captor sighed, "All right. Let me see, I'm guessing you stole that battlemover, and I'm guessing you think I work for whoever you stole it from. Well, I don't. I really don't give a damn about that battlemover, so long as you stop killing people with it."
"I have no _choice_!" she snarled.
"Why not?" he shot back.
Again, she didn't answer. She was not going to betray Anri.
His voice became tired, "Look, I can't just let you continue this killing spree." Suddenly, the blindfold fell away, and the rope holding her soon followed.
She rose and turned, backing away slowly. It was the same man she'd attacked, and this time, he was wearing sunglasses. They were in what looked like a trailer home.
"I'm keeping the battlemover."
"You can't! She'll die!" Sylvie sucked in a breath as she realized what she'd blurted out.
* * *
Xander massaged the bridge of his nose. A pair of 33-Ss. He should have known. He'd been disgusted with their creation in the first place -- What kind of sicko created slaves for the sole purpose of raping them? -- but the mass extermination that came later was _not_ what he'd wanted.
And now, he had two of them on his hands, one of whom needed a steady supply of unprocessed human blood to survive until her artificial equivalent could be synthesized.
There had to be an answer to this, and he had a sinking feeling as to what that answer was.
Sylvie watched apprehensively as his hands clenched into fists and unclenched rapidly. She jumped when he suddenly slammed his fist into the wall.
"Fine," he said quietly, his voice flat. "If she really needs blood, she can have mine."
Sylvie stared. "What?"
"You'll be able to fix her properly, right? Well, then... until you do... she can take blood from me. Not enough to kill. Just... just enough for her to live on."
The words came almost unwillingly, but it was the only way.
* * *
Hands up if you _actually_ know the crossover.