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Xander the Maou

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Summary: Xander picks up a strange sword at Ethan's, and becomes the demon king! Now with Stargate and Discworld!

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Multiple Crossings > Xander-Centered
Anime > Kyo Kara Maou
Literature > Sir Terry Pratchett
Stargate > Xander-Centered
NerdgirlFR183638,60616291311,13120 Mar 085 Aug 13No

chapter 31

When we last left our hero, he was headed in for a confrontation with a group of possible demonic serial killers. Serial killers who were in league with murderous invisible demons. How he might accomplish this task was still uncertain, however one thing was for sure: he was finally going to get waffles after months of deprivation.
Upon entering Der Waffle Haus, Xander took a seat at a booth not too far from his quarry. At first glance, they seemed to be average, normal people. But, at second glance, some discrepancies became more obvious. They were a totally mismatched crew, consisting of a grumbly, pouty teenager, a blond bombshell, a drunken Englishman, a hostile meter maid, and an older father figure. They seemed to be having an argument. All were holding yellow post-it notes. When they spotted Xander looking in their direction, they went back to eating. Never one to be deterred, Xander happily munched his large order of waffles.

Although Xander might be powerful, he was not the best spy. Little did he know, the reapers were watching him as well.

"Do you see that guy over there?" Mason whispered loudly. He motioned to the young man sitting in the far booth with a no-so-subtle gesture. While they were looking, he quickly tipped a bit of whiskey into his coffee cup.

"Not bad, if you like young guys right out of high school." Daisy waved a hand distractedly. "Anyway, it's not like you to notice guys. Is there something you'd like to tell us?"

This got a snort from the ever- grumpy George, who hadn't bothered to look up. It was quickly followed by a shout of "WHAT?! No! I'm not! It's just that I've seen that guy before."

"Really Mason," remarked Rube, calmly stirring his coffee, "You've lived in this city for how many years now? It is possible to see a familiar face on occasion." He glanced over at the other table.

"No! That's not what I mean!" He raised his voice, then lowered it, looking sheepish. "What I mean is, I've seen him before, when I was out on a reap. He was watching me."

"Could be coincidence," George offered, raising her head up from her cup of coffee. "I mean, what are the odds of someone actually seeing you reap someone and figuring out what was going on?" She finally glanced over and took a double take. "Oh, boy." She slouched down in her booth.

"George?" Rube asked. "Do you have something to share with the rest of us?" He subtly gestured over to the young man working his way through a second stack of waffles, looking happy and content with the world. "We wouldn't want a repeat of what happened before, now, would we?"

George slouched back down in her seat. "OK, I've seen him too," she said. "He saw me when I was reaping someone. He was looking around, and saw the display start to fall. He almost managed to push my reap out of the way, but was just a second too late. Didn't think much of it at the time- I only had a half-hour lunch break." She looked around. "What?"

"What we have here is a serious situation, George. A mortal may have information on reapers, or he may think he knows something about us. When you were alive, what would you have thought of someone who does around looking for a stranger, asking for them by name, only to touch them, and, moments later, that person dies. Plus, you think he saw the accident as it started, so that means he may have seen the graveling." Rube leaned forward. "So, as a mortal, what possible explanation would you think up to explain this?"

George opened her mouth to answer, but was interrupted by a stranger's voice. "Well," the subject of their discussion said, "demonic assassins was at the top of my list, but having invisible gremlins set up an accident immediately after you identify the target doesn't strike me as a very efficient way for an assassin to kill. Good for an alibi, but highly inefficient." They looked up to see him standing at their table. "I know you can't be human, because this one," pointing to Mason, "would be dead of alcohol poisoning considering the amount of alcohol he consumed last night. So," he leaned on a sword they hadn't seen him holding, "Who are you, WHAT are you, and are you something I need to kill?"
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