How Doomed are we?
Turning to the voice, Von Doom took note of one of the few people on the planet outside of Latveria to actually know him in a personal manner. “Madame Sable,” he said with a slight bow before rising again. “You will forgive me if I don’t stop to chat but there is a slight issue I must attend to first.” He announced before turning back towards the Hellmouth.
Speeding up slightly, Silver Sable matched his purposeful stride with an ease of a soldier long accustomed to forced marches. “Will I distract you from this issue or shall I tag along,” she asked and smiled at the dictators questioning glance. “Long experience has told me that you are a focal point of conflict Milord. Where you go, trouble always follows and it is best to get it out of the way quickly.”
Smiling at the slightly mocking tone, Victor challenged her statement in his own defense, “Trouble does not follow me my lady Silver, I am merely a poor survivor of interesting times.”
Her unladylike snort of humor drew a small glare from Victor before she pressed the issue, “That time at the beach?”
“Was a rogue Russian nuclear sub, I assured you then and I reassure you now I had nothing to do with its destruction or how it landed in Red Square,” He announced with a slight smirk at their ongoing game. “And if I remember correctly, you seemed rather friendly with those well dressed men from Armenia.”
“Case of mistaken identity, they thought I was a movie star and wanted to escort me to the ‘shoot’,” she lied easily before continuing. “After we settled everything, they apologized and were on their way, but that time in Cairo?”
“I believe I should, ‘Take the Fifth’ as the Americans say, on that one. After all, how was I to know they meant it when they said not to tear off that little tag on the mattresses.” He defended.
Laughing at the antics few others in the world would ever see, Silver shrugged. “Well once they rebuilt the one pyramid and tore off the nose you added to the sphinx the country managed to get back to its everyday life.” She mocked before continuing with the dictator.
Behind them Cordelia Chase growled as she stomped after the duo that had so easily forgotten she existed as she wondered why her life couldn’t ever be simple.
“Aha!” Giles shouted happily snapping the dozing teens out of their slumber and forcing Buffy to drop the battle axe she had picked up once startled. “In the late fourteenth century a Hellmouth was formed in what is modern day Latveria with a prophecy that a ‘Kingdom of Doom’ was to be heralded forth by Isaac the Petulant, a Frenchmen of some small renown… very small it seems.” Giles explained before adjusting his glasses “Well, suffice it to say, Isaac came down with a rather nasty case of death thanks primarily to a group of wandering bandits armed with a crossbow and some random farm implements. But the prophecy has all the earmarks of a true legacy, should Von Doom open the Hellmouth, he may very well conquer all the realms… In this case, America and lead the world into a decade of darkness and assorted… cheeses.” He trailed off as the younger generation just stared at him “Yes, well I do suppose there has been some confusion on the exact wording and the translation, it is rather tricky.”
Smiling at finally having discovered something, Buffy bounced slightly in her seat before realization struck. “This means I have to go back to school doesn’t it.” She grumbled.
Giles rubbed the bridge of his nose in frustration, at times he wondered if searching for repentance was worth the effort.
Xander woke up with a start as his Hellmouth honed instincts kicked into overdrive and his hand wrapped around the stake he kept nearby in the event of a crisis before calming down at the sound of his mother’s voice calling to get him up.
“Alexander, it’s time to wake up.”
Groaning at the early (for him) hour, Xander rolled over and froze. For the second straight day in a row, a blood curdling scream echoed through what had once been the Harris household.
Looking down at her uniform, Jessica wondered at her son’s reaction. It was the first time anyone had ever responded like that, even Natasha had stolen the general design for her own use, although from what she remembered, Natasha’s was a bit more modest. Maybe once she managed to pry Alexander off the wall he would be willing to explain.
Walking up to the school, Von Doom took note of the guards placed strategically around the perimeter and frowned. While the majority wore the uniform of a rather bland and unassuming local security firm, Victor would no more call them rent-a-cops than he would expect someone to call him normal. They stood with the precision of military personnel with the institutionalized arrogance of some of the ‘official’ Special Forces, masking the movement under the guise of checking the traffic.
Von Doom turned towards his companion, expecting her to be professional enough to notice the same things he had. Victor was not disappointed.
“Do you remember Frankfurt, my dear?” he asked and noticed her entire posture change, gone was the subdued business woman she wore as a mask while not hunting and the slightly more defiant posture of someone working in a male dominated atmosphere was taken.
Stepping quickly across the street, Von Doom and Silver were not surprised when one of the guards quickly moved to intercept, his computer generated warning was quickly cut off as the duo pulled ID’s and flashed them before the startled grunt, “Vincent Kismet and Martina Hoary, FBI California southwest District, we are investigating the possibility of a bombing at the school,” Von Doom said, nodding to the rubble behind the pseudo guard before letting him take the ID without concern. Vincent Kismet was indeed registered as an FBI agent. While he may not have the abilities to fake Stark or Richards’ computer systems, he was more than capable of sneaking an identity into an organization that still used the DMV files for background checks. While he wasn’t sure, he would bet pounds to pesos Silver Sable’s people would have worked her in in much the same way. He was somewhat surprised, however, when the dark haired female leaned between them with a similar ID.
“Kara Hunt Bureau of Alcohol Tobacco Firearms and Explosives, Special Attaché to the FB I.” Cordelia announced without pause.
(A/N) Thanks to all the reviewers and to Sledgehammer specifically for re-igniting the interest in this little fic.