Disclaimer: I don’t own anything.
The usually peaceful British librarian ducks under the club of a Tusken Raider and swings his sword around, easily disarming his opponent. He spins and sends the Tusken Raider flying with a backslap.
Giles glances around at the prone figures of the Labyrinth goblins and Tusken Raiders lying unconscious at his feet. He puts his sword down and drags them to the library cage one by one until they are all loaded into the cage. He slams it shut, grabs his sword, and strolls out the door.
He passes the brawling Ewoks and Halo Jackals in the hallways and on the school steps. Giles slides his glasses into his pocket gently. A Lord of the Rings Orc steps into his path with its sword drawn. It snarls at him nastily. Giles raises an eyebrow, causing the Orc to tilt his head to the side in confusion. A moment later, the orc lands at the bottom of the steps with a shoe-sized imprint on its forehead.
The Ewoks and Jackals give him space to walk, having seen what he did to a fearsome Orc without even breaking a sweat.
The librarian arrives at his car and opens the door when he feels a sharp object poking into the back of his neck. He glances over his shoulder to see a young Elf woman holding a bow and arrow, with the arrow tip at his throat. “Arwen Evenstar, I presume?” he inquires.
“How do you know who I am? Why did you bring me here?” demands the elf.
Giles sighs, “Open the other door and get in. I will explain on the way.”
Arwen pokes his neck enough to cause it to cause a small trickle of blood. “You will explain now. Are you in league with the Dark Lord?”
“No, I’m not,” Giles states irritably. He grabs onto the arrow and pushes it aside. “I believe that chaos magic is involved. Now get in!” The elf jumps back from his sudden change in demeanor and gets into the car.
He slowly drives down the street, going around any creatures in the road. Suddenly, Arwen looks around and stares at the librarian. “Mr. Giles? What are you doing here?”
Giles keeps his eyes on the road and sighs deeply, “Just trying to fix a problem. Where did you get your costume?”
“A new place that opened up called Ethan’s. The guy that owns the place sells the costumes for really cheap,” the girl replies while she feels her still pointed ears. “I’m still an elf!”
“Ethan’s,” Giles murmurs darkly, an old flame of indignation igniting behind his eyes. “How do we get there…Amy, I believe your name is?”
“Yeah, that’s my name,” Amy says as she examines her bow and arrows with wonder. “Just keep going down this road, take a left in three blocks, go down a block, than turn right. The building still has the sign, so you’ll see it. It’ll be on the left side of the road.”
In Ethan’s Shop:
“Ah, Ripper,” chuckles Ethan evilly. “I can feel your rage boiling. It feels positively exhilarating.” He casually sits in a chair and leans back, waiting for his old acquaintance to arrive.
At the Riddick’s Location:
Drusilla giggles happily and claps her hands while the transformed vampires duke it out. Blasts of magical energy blasts Wolverine through a dumpster, only for him to extend his claws and climb out. His wounds close themselves and disappear. The dark haired mutant shrugs off the magic and slashes at the wizard. Sauroman stops the claws with an invisible magic grip, throwing him back again. “I’m going to get you eventually, Bub,” Wolverine snarls. “I won’t get tired.”
Sauroman frowns, “Oh really? Than I will just boost my attacks.” He leans his staff towards him. “Goodbye, boy.”
“Yeah right, old man!” Wolverine shouts as he tackles Sauroman. Something changes in both their eyes as they roll on the ground. The now clawed Angel pins Spike down, the sharp adamantium claws pointing at his throat. “Don’t move, Spike,” he warns.
The blonde ex-vampire points his staff at Angel’s head and smirks, “Or what, Big Poof?”
Meanwhile, Riddick spins under the double-edged axe and slashes at the Necromonger’s armor. Lord Vaako punches Riddick in the nose, but the Furyan counterattacks with his blades through Vaako’s armor joints. He pulls out his knives quickly and jumps back out of the range of the blades. The Necromonger grunts with pain and thrusts the axe at his head, holding onto the very edge of its handle.
“You’re going to have to do better than that…Larry?” he asks as Riddick’s spirit leaves him.
The armored football player frowns once he feels the cuts in his arms, “Harris? What’s going on here?”
“You tell me,” Xander grunts, gripping his knives with an ease showing years of experience.
The now Necromonger Larry and the Furyan Xander eye each other with distrust and mutual hatred. “Fine, come here,” Xander states, walking towards him. Larry lowers his axe when the smaller man punches him hard in the nose.
“What was that for?” Larry demands, covering his bloody nose.
“I have no idea,” Xander states with a smirk, “But it was very satisfying.” Larry glares at Xander with renewed vigor.
On the rooftops nearby, Elektra rushes at a Halo Elite, dodging plasma blasts with ease. She slips under his arm and stabs her sai deep into his leg. She leaves it there, back flipping out of the range of his sharp claws. “Human scum,” the Elite grunts in his language while yanking the sai from his leg and tossing it aside.
The assassin leaps over his head and lands on his shoulders. Twisting her feet, she gets a firm grip around his throat with her feet, lifts him off the ground, and tosses him into the alley. She leaps after him, landing on his chest. His armor absorbs most of the impact. She holds her other sai to his throat and blinks curiously. “Who are you?” she asks.
The Elite stares at her blankly, “I’m Andrew. Are you Elektra the Assassin?”
“No, I’m Willow,” the red-clad woman says slowly.
The alien smirks, “Than if you are Willow, can you please get off my chest? You are quite heavy.”
Her eyes widen in realization and she climbs off his chest. “So sorry about that!”
“It’s no problem,” he says, standing to his feet and dusting himself off. Blue blood slowly drips from his wounds. “I’ll be fine.” She frowns and quickly tears off a strip of cloth from her already skimpy outfit and ties it around his leg.
“I know First Aid, so stay still,” she orders with unusual authority. He sighs and obeys, eyeing her sai nervously.
In the alley a few feet away, Master Chief clashes with the Sith Lord once again, matching him blow for blow in strength and speed. “You are no match for a Sith Lord,” Darth Vader roars. “Your defeat is inevitable!”
“So you keep saying,” Master Chief says neutrally, blocking another blow with ease. “But you have yet to back it up, Mister Vader.” He kicks the Sith against the stone alley wall, crushing a few buttons on his suit. “Warren?” the Spartan warrior says loudly. “Are you okay?”
Darth Vader staggers to his feet, pulling himself out of the Vader-shaped imprint on the wall. “Yeah, I’ll live, Jonathan. What happened?”
“We just became our costumes!” Jonathan exclaims.
Warren grins through his mask, “This is so awesome!”
The Swim Team continues trying to sort out who has whose body parts, rearranging and exchanging arms, legs, and heads with each other. Anyone watching would be creeped out, but most people are busy with their own situations.
At Ethan’s Shop:
Ethan stands from his chair as Giles enters the room. “Ripper! How have you been? It’s been ages!” he proclaims amiably. His greeting is met with a firm punch to the mouth.
“What have you done here, Ethan?” asks the librarian irritably. “You are causing chaos!”
“Isn’t that what we all did at one point?” Ethan asks, rubbing his sore jaw and picking himself up off the floor. “But, you don’t know the meaning of chaos yet, my old friend.”
Giles draws his sword, “We are far from friends now.”
“A sword, Ripper?” the British shopkeeper chuckles. “You should know not to bring a sword to an energy fight.”
“Energy?” Giles manages to ask before a stream of electrical energy shoots from Ethan’s fingertips and launches him through the window. An arrow slips through the shattering glass, managing not to nick a single shard before it impales itself in Ethan’s shoulder.
“You little witch!” he shouts furiously, yanking the arrow from his arm with a wince. He stares through the shattered window at the elf that is standing proudly on the car’s roof. She draws another arrow and lets it fly, impaling his leg.
“Not a witch,” Amy says calmly. “I’m an elf. And we elves don’t miss.” Another arrow pierces his left hand. He cries out in pain before the groaning turns to laughter. She frowns and her arrows drop from his wounds, snapped in half where they had contact with his skin. His wounds close up and he touches a costume of an orc. The costume comes alive and rushes at her. Her arrows don’t slow it down. Dropping from the car, she draws her swords and slices the costume to ribbons. “You seem to have magic though, sir,” she says pointedly with her bow and arrows quickly coming back to bear.
Ethan snaps his fingers and a long royal cloak covers his shoulders and a crown appears on his head. “I should have magical powers, after being blessed as Janus’ champion!” Giles backs up to the car and gasps when he hears Ethan’s words.
“Amy, we must get out of here now,” Giles says carefully. “We are no match against someone blessed by Janus. Chaos is his plaything now.”
Amy shoots an arrow at the door, causing the doorknob to shatter and become useless, locking him in. “How do you know so much about this man?”
“He’s an old colleague and a servant of Chaos. I can’t stop him now,” he states solemnly.
Ethan laughs, “Quite right! Nobody can stop me now!”
He hears a polite cough behind him. He turns around to see the blood covered form of Dante. “I beg to differ,” he states. A moment later, the champion of chaos flies through the wall of the costume shop, followed by the demon slayer. “And right now, I’m fracking pissed that you were stupid enough to use Chaos on the Hellmouth!” he shouts at Ethan, who is now scrambling to his feet.
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