I own NOTHING
here. All characters and material related to Buffy The Vampire Slayer
belong to Joss Whedon and his group. Ranma 1/2
is the creation of Rumiko Takahashi.
This is a Halloween fic. In case I missed anyone--If you recognize it, then I don't own it!
The third chapter is heeeere! (Duh!) : )
Okay, for those readers who found the last chapter too graphic, too descriptive, my apologies. But a little reminder, Xander is a guy who is not only facing ugly things outside his home, but inside it as well. Xander's parents are drunks. And drunks are messy!
As for Xander's sudden, inappropriate, shift in mood towards the end--Ah, yeah . . .Something else I've got to apologize for. But I was already getting tired of it, and I just wanted to wrap up the chapter and move on. I know I left a gaping hole in that section, but honestly, I can't promise I'll go back and fix it. Sorry.
Here's the third chapter for The Mustang And The Slayer
. I hope you enjoy it.
Joyce joins the Halloween fun!
The Mustang And The Slayer
Cologne Matriarch of the Chinese Amazons observed the street before her from a perspective she had lost a few hundred years before the present. The Elder, haven gotten used to being slightly above two feet tall, watched in bemused contemplation, the frantic and panicked bodies of people hurling themselves up and down the street, attempting to escape or avoid the hoards of miniature monsters and demons swarming, and rampaging among them.
The Elder looped to her earlier musings, and reexamined the 'taste' of the magic engulfing the street and general area--Chaos magic. Cologne readily identified the type of magic: one of her husbands had been a Chaos mage. Alas, a tragic drowning in one of Jusenkyo's virgin pools had ended a promising and interesting marriage . . .
A sudden loud Bang!
and Cologne's thoughts returned to the present with a jerk. She twisted her head slightly, keeping the street and moving bodies in sight, to peer beyond the glass front doors. Cologne judged the people behind her, inside the art gallery she had suddenly found herself in (within a younger, and blessedly taller body).
The people at work securing the gallery seemed possessed by mostly
historical figures, most from the artistic branches. But a few were from fantasy and science fiction genre as well. To Cologne's experienced eye, they were quite creative in fortifying the building--But what else could be expected from those
people? Little doubt existed within Cologne's mind that the possessed men and women working so diligently were capable of holding, and defending, the gallery and everyone and everything within its walls.
"Cologne?" A male voice called out in French.
A short, slightly pudgy man leaned out of the opened glass door. He turned concerned eyes towards the Amazon Elder. "My love," he said. "We are about to seal ourselves within . . .Will you not change your mind and join us in our makeshift island of relative, and dubious, sanity and safety?" He suddenly smirked, his eyes twinkling, and added suggestively. "Or best yet--Create our own island nation of just two, in some private corner? Hmmm?"
Cologne chuckled, and with a slight apologetic smile on her borrowed face, said lightly. "My dearest Eugene, I have made my choice . . .I will follow my own council and discover the source of tonight's mischief--And deal justice as my own kind and kin would. Farewell. Please be safe."
Eugene sighed deeply and tragically, a mischievous glint in his eye and a small smile on his lips, and nodded his good bye. He stepped back and closed the glass door. A moment later, the rolling steel gate came down, cutting off the view of the well-lit interior of the gallery--And Eugene.
The Amazon elder stood staring wistfully for a moment at the gray steel folding gate, contemplating past years, and the time, that she, as a wilder, younger woman, had traveled through the World--And the intense, brief love affair she had had with the French artist, Eugene Delacroix.
Her mind came back to the present, as a golden glow suddenly spread outwards from the building. Screeches and curses from the building roof and points around it erupted from creatures ejected from the surface of the suddenly Warded gallery.
Satisfied with what she saw, Cologne stepped down the five gallery steps to the street, the staff she held loosely in her hand, thumping on the brick steps and concrete pavement with her steps; she swept the area with a deeper, finer probe of her senses. Cologne did not collapse in shock, as she nearly had when she had originally 'awaken' within her borrowed body. The unexpected, polluted energies pouring out from the nearby Hellmouth had rammed and clawed against her weakened spiritual and mental shields until she quickly and desperately strengthen them.
At first, Cologne was convinced what assaulted her soul and mind could not be. The last remaining Hellmouth, in her home dimension had been closed by the time Cologne had achieved her first menses. All the proof Cologne needed to halt her dangerous mental rants of denial, and come to the uneasy realization she was no longer in either her home dimension, or her own body!
Worse yet, once the Amazon Elder filtered out the other distractions, she could hear the World screaming.
Standing out on the street of the American town, a brochure within the gallery claimed was called Sunnydale, Cologne's senses told her she was not the only one from Nerima to be cast into the screaming, dark World. The Amazon elder sensed the Blind Duck somewhere nearby; her granddaughter, Shampoo, was keeping company with the Tendo sisters, the Okonomiyaki cook, and that insane Kono girl. But her Ki signature was jittering and dodging about in a puzzling, and exceptionally, unfamiliar way.
That had her concerned, until--
A sudden roaring wind tugged at the Matriarch's hair and clothing--Cologne looked up and grimaced at the disappearing afterburners of some kind of aircraft. Sudden insight struck her. Of course . . .Cologne muttered to herself in annoyance. Her granddaughter and the other girls had to be in one of the aircrafts currently in the sky! She sighed, resigned, fretting about it was unproductive . . . She would just have to wait until the girls came down on their own.
In the meantime-- "Aaaaarrrggghhh! Get'emoff!Get'emoff!Get'emoff!"
A red and black figure, with blurred, windmilling arms engulfed by a vicious flock of divebombing flying books, interrupted her thoughts as it jumped, screaming, off the roof of a nearby building, ran across the street and bound upwards back onto the rooftops!
"Son-in-law?" Cologne questioned, blinking. Ranma--it had to be that unpredictable young man. Who else would run away screaming from books? Besides, his Ki signature was unmistakable--A gigantic, roaring, swirling mass of power so similar to his signature move of Hiryo Shoten Ha.
Cologne sighed, then smirked in amusement. At least, Son-in-law was running in the right direction. She prepared herself to hope onto the nearby roof and follow Ranma, when the ground shook under her feet! A fresh, immediate chorus of screams erupted from up the street, causing Cologne to look up and catch sight of dozens of fleeing people emerging from a side street. The ground shook again!
Behind the running people, a terrible form came into Cologne's view . . .It was fully twelve feet tall, a fur garment, with a single strap, covered the torso and upper thighs. Until it turned around and graced the matriarch with frontal view--It had only on eye! A Cyclops!
The sudden explosion of feet, running towards
the giant Cyclops, caused Cologne to pause--Robust, muscular young men dressed in white kimono tops and black hamka, stopped in eerie tandem in front of her, simultaneously raised wooden bokkens, and announced in stereo, "Halt, Villain! I, the Blue Thunder of Furinkan High," thunder clapped
, "challenge yon cowardly beast! Have at thee!"
Cologne blinked, and blinked again. An entire kendo club she could understand being ensnared in the night's mischief, but a Tatewaki Kono club . . .? Really?
With a roar of "I strike! I strike!" the Konos surged forward! The Cyclops answered with his own roar--And a moment later, black and white missiles came hurling passed the exasperated Matriarch. At her feet slid, thumped, one of the missiles--Hazy, confused blue eyes stared up at her, and slurred, "I stri . . .ke . . ." his eyelids dropping in unconsciousness.
Overhead, a loud, "Quacked!" rendition of Wagner's Cry of the Valkyries
heralded Mousse's air assault! Cologne watched for a moment the diving, darting white form of the Blind Duck avoiding the swatting hand and club of the single eyed monster, and with an impatient sigh, came to a decision--Ranma could deal with the Chaos mage by himself. Son-in-law was more then capable of handling a single Chaos stirrer!
With a savage grin on her hostess' face, Cologne gathered her Ki and tightly griped her staff and launched herself into combat!
The wave of Chaos energy swept through Sunnydale for a second time that night, restoring what the first wave had altered. A tall, woman in a white back swept wig, wearing a green robe, with a quartered white circle on her chest, held a slightly batter and chewed staff in her hands. Her robe had been torn and darkened with soot and wet splatters of organic substances. Her face and wig showed equal abuse. She stared in intense concentration at the closed doorway of Ethan's Costume shop.
The door opened and a large, full laundry bag flew out and landed with a muffled 'thump' on the pavement. Following closely behind it, from the still opened doorway, out stepped Buffy Summers, still wearing on her head the remains of a slightly askew, burned, smoking, rat's nest, mess of a red pigtail wig. Buffy hauled another large bulging laundry sack over her slim shoulder. The small figure walked over to the bag on the ground, bend down, grasped it, and swung it up to her other free shoulder, straightened up and took several steps before noticing Joyce. She froze in mid-step and stared hard at her mother. She slowly put her foot down, recognition working through her face and she smirked.
Buffy walked towards her mother and stopped a bare foot away. "The Old Goul', right?"
Joyce Summers resisted the strong urge to rap her insolent child on the head, with the end of her staff. "If you mean Elder Cologne? Yes." An urge Joyce immediately discarded. She took a closer look at her daughter--A tattered, raggedy, bloody figure, but with a cocky smile on her face and confidence oozing out of every surface of her small, slim body. Joyce noted with a guilty start that removing the grime of running combat, Buffy closely resembled the confident, cocky young teenager she had been, prior to-to the mental institution.
Joyce gingerly poked a mental finger at the 'gift' Elder Cologne had left for her, when the other woman had retreated from her body. The revelation of living on a Hellmouth was terrifying enough, but the suspicion her new knowledge gave her on what her daughter could be, was giving Joyce the idea of grabbing Buffy, shoving her into the car and speeding away, abandoning everything they owned and starting over again somewhere safe. Safe?
Her own internal voice mocked. No place was safe! Joyce wanted to break out in hysterics. A hard truth to take in . . .Worse came the stunning realization that the Bastards-That-Be had set up her child to churn up and cause Chaos. Guaranteeing Buffy would never be able to find safety or peace--Anywhere!
Joyce looked down into her daughter's green eyes, and made silent promises--And, Joyce recalled with another guilty surge, apologies.
Buffy gave her mother a confused look, the message 'You're starting to wig me out, mom'
visibly present; Buffy shook her head, causing the wig to wobble and slid slowly down the side of her face. "Uh, mom? We really have to get out of here--The ambulance I called will be here soon." Buffy shrugged, indifferently, a hint of malice in her eyes. "At least Ethan Raynes hopes it's soon."
Hours before, Joyce would have been shocked over her daughter's callousness--But not after witnessing the lethal and traumatic consequences to the Chaos mage 'fun'. Joyce secretly wished the man excruciating pain and a long, long complications filled recovery.
Joyce smiled at Buffy. "Let's go home, Sweetheart. You can call up Willow and Xander, and make sure they're alright."
They walked away from Ethan's store, the sirens in the distance getting closer. Joyce eyed the laundry bags. She gestured to them. "Did you get everything?"
"Everything I could see--Books, supplies . . .Ethan could have stashed a few goodies somewhere out of sight." Buffy considered thoughtfully. "I'll come back and check more thoroughly later."
Joyce nodded in approval. "I'll come with you."
Buffy nodded in agreement. A thoughtful look crossed her face. "Mom . . .You know you're concealing your Ki signature, right?"
Joyce sighed. "Yes, dear. Buffy, there are things we have to talk about--And-and not just about tonight, or any souvenirs we may have acquired."
The sudden, familiar sound of a lawn sprinkler silenced and froze the two Summers.
Wide-eyed shock radiated from Joyce's eyes. Buffy experienced a familiar tingling that should not have existed
. Not only did the ground seemed to have inched higher--But her groin was undergoing discomfort that only Ranma
experienced after shifting back to his male form--While still wearing panties!
"I think we better call in everyone we can, not just Willow and Xander." Buffy said, in a deeper voice.
Joyce numbly nodded.
Buffy wanted to either sigh in resignation, or scream in blind panic. Regardless--Life on the Hellmouth had just gotten weirder.
) Maybe not as funny as I (or my readers) wanted it to be. But I hope it had some good moments, and that it entertained you.
Thanks for reading it. And good bye!