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Summary: Para Liaison Summers, meet the Losers. Crossover with the 2010 movie. Drabble-verse.

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Movies > Losers, The(Past Moderator)FaithUnbreakableFR152445,8033830159,73116 Oct 106 Oct 13No

Operation: Butterfly

A/N: You know, you're kind of awesome, people. Thank you!


Operation: Butterfly


In which Buffy works with the Losers for the first time.


Three days after first meeting Summers, Clay and the rest of the Losers were lying in wait in the middle of the Columbian jungle, waiting for the to-go signal from their ‘liaison’, who had told them that she was getting them past the gate and not much else.

Clay was glad that things had moved so fast because they all needed to get the hell out of this jungle, but Summers’s way of doing things had left him spinning a bit. Within half an hour of meeting him, she’d had Roque so worked up that he actually attacked her.

Thirty seconds after that she’d had him flat on the floor, a three foot honest-to-fuck sword at his throat, asking him if he had any more questions. Roque had, for probably the first time in his life, shut up.

Then he’d asked if he could touch the knife and Clay was utterly convinced that, the very second Summers shrugged and handed him the weapon, his slightly unbalanced SiC had fallen head over heels in love. With Summers and her weapons bag.

After that little interlude, Summers had taken over planning for the job and by sunset, she’d had it all worked out. All Clay had to do was nod and give the thing the go-ahead. He had felt a bit superfluous at that point.

Three days later he had mostly recovered from his tail-spin into uselessness and was just very, very glad that there was an end in sight. The op should have taken a month, tops, and yet here they were, almost five weeks after everything should have been over, still stuck in the jungle. Clay hated the jungle. He really, really did. Heat. Rain. Bugs. Humidity. Snakes. Heat. Cats. Heat. No TV. No supermarkets. Humidity. No running water. Heat. And did he mention the fucking heat and humidity?

“You know what?” Summers suddenly rumbled over the comms, sounding cranky.

“What?” Texas asked from his position a few dozen yards to Clay’s left. Snake was with the Colonel, Roque to their right. Summers was somewhere ahead, getting ready to be their ticket into the compound they were about to blow sky high.

“The US Government owes me a pair of designer jeans,” she snapped and Clay opened his mouth to ask ‘what the fuck’ when she rounded the last bend in the road leading to the compound.

The last time he’d seen her she’d shooed them all out of the clearing that was their primary rendezvous to change ‘into her outfit’. She’d been wearing jeans and a shapeless old t-shirt then. She was still wearing those jeans now, but most of them seemed to have… disappeared. She’d turned her pants into something that would have made Daisy Duke blush and scramble for cover. Her t-shirt was gone, too, replaced by a tank top two numbers too small. No bra.

Holy shit.

Her hair was loose and sticking to her neck and shoulder and she was practically naked, struggling with a map about as tall as she was, giant backpack strapped to her shoulders and waist. Naked arms, naked legs, a ton of cleavage and all covered in a fine sheen of sweat. She looked like Jungle Expedition Porn.

Over comms, Texas swallowed very loudly. Roque cursed. “The fuck is she doing, boss?”

She can hear you, Roque,” Summers muttered, lowering her head so she could speak unseen. “And I’m getting us in. It’s working, isn’t it?”

As the blonde kept stumbling along with seemingly no clue where she was going, Clay finally turned his head to look at the guard post by the front gate of the latest drug lord’s secret command central. And yes, it was working. The two guards at the gate were looking like they’d seen God, or whatever qualified as Him after six months in the jungle with no female company.

They should have sounded every alarm they had because sexy blonde women lost in the middle of the Columbian jungle did not happen outside the porn industry, but apparently their downstairs brains had taken over.

They were both drooling as Summers came ever closer, seemingly still oblivious to them. Then, about twenty yards away, she finally looked up and her face lit up like Christmas.

She crumpled her map in one hand and started jogging toward the gate and Jesus, maybe Clay could understand why those idiot guards were spellbound. He hadn’t been out here half as long as those guys and he couldn’t look away from Summers’s… bounce.

She reached the guys quickly and stopped, fanning herself, panting like she’d run a mile. The woman should have been a con-artist, not a demon hunter. The guards didn’t so much as blink, afraid of missing something.

“Hi,” she finally said, voice breathy, even over comms.

Snake let out a small laugh and whispered, “Look at those guys. They’re total goners.”

Texas snorted. “Yeah, they’re not the only one. Boss, you gotta make that woman wear bags or something.”

“He’ll do no such thing, you asshole. I like what I’m seeing,” Roque threw in.

“Can you guys help me?” Summers asked and they all jumped as they were reminded that yes, she just heard every word of that, idiots.

One of the guards nodded. “Sure!”

“You see, I got lost. I mean, I had this guide and he was supposed to make sure I stayed safe, but he stole my money and disappeared during the night, yeah? And now I’m totally lost. I’m Bethy, by the way. I’m a biology student from Michigan and I’m writing a paper about, you know, butterflies. I love butterflies, they’re so tiny and pretty and I just want to… you know?”

Guard #1 nodded in a daze.

“Awesome? But, like I said, my guide ditched me and now I’m all alone in this big, scary forest and I read the Little Red Riding Hood as a kid, you know, and I really, really need some help. I mean, I know there are no wolves around here, but there was this cat, okay? And then there was another cat and they fought and it wasn’t like on TV and then they went away but I’m kind of scared and… well, cats, you know?! So, could you guys? I’d be totally grateful!”

If any of Clay’s men had fallen for that lame-ass story, he’d have kicked them. Right after he resurrected their dead asses and reamed them a new one for getting killed because they were thinking with their dicks. But these guys were apparently hired for brawn, not brain, because they didn’t find Bethy from Michigan strange at all.

“Dumb fucks,” Roque muttered and Summers twitched, like she wanted to say something, but just kept smiling.

One of the guards handed his rifle off to his partner and stepped forward. “So, uh, where are you trying to go, doll?”

Summers’s smile grew wider, which, Clay had learned, meant she was about ready to explode. Roque had, in an impressive display of asshattery, gotten her to smile that exact same way no less than seven times in the past three days. Whether this smile was caused by her being called ‘doll’ or the sheer overabundance of stupidity was anyone’s guess.

She got a grip fairly quickly and shoved her map at the guy, making sure he had both hands full and keeping the second guard with the two rifles in her sights, too. Whoever had been dumb enough to think that woman would ever allow herself to be confined to a desk job needed to be taken out back and shot. “See, there’s this, you know, clearing, where my prof said the butterflies meet, like, once a year when it’s mating season, you know? It’s supposed to be here somewhere. You know it?”

Yes, Summers had just introduced ‘mating season’ to the conversation. And to top that, she popped the gum she’d gotten from somewhere. Loudly. It rang through the jungle like a gunshot. The guards didn’t even flinch. She was playing them like a pro, completely wrapping them around her finger. Clay was almost certain that, at this point, he and his men could have just walked past those guards with a wave and gotten no more trouble than a distracted grunt.

Guard #1 unfolded the map, struggling with it, turning it this way and that, pretending to look for a clearing when really, he was staring down ‘Bethy’s’ top. After a minute he asked his buddy for help, who put down the rifles (holy fuck, how dumb were they?) and came over.

“I got a shot, boss,” Texas announced as the man came to a halt on Summers’s other side.

Summers jerked a bit but didn’t look at their position. “Negative,” Clay growled into the comm. “We don’t want the attention. Let Summers do her thing.”

The blonde relaxed and started chattering about butterflies and how pretty they were, somehow managing to get both guards closer to her and farther from the gate, still.

“Anytime now, Summers,” Clay said.

She cocked her head to one side to show she’d heard and opened her mouth to say something when a third guard appeared at the gate, pretty much out of nowhere. It was one of the demons guarding the place, clearly recognizable by his green tinted skin and the spikes on his head. He probably would have stayed out of sight of a human, but apparently this one had more brains than his two human buddies, because he looked furious as he barked, “What the fuck are you doing?!”

Guard #1 and #2 jumped out of their skin. Summers simply looked up at the guy, about to play the same game on him. But instead of being reassured by the blonde ditz at the gate, the demon’s face contorted into utter rage.

Slayer,” he spat, the word like poison.

Clay had a quiet moment of ‘what the fuck’ before Summer’s ‘oops’ reached him over the comms and she moved. Guard #1 got her fist in his face, #2 her backpack. Both went down like rocks and she went with them, rolling and coming up right in front of the closed gate. She pulled one of her swords out of her pack and lunged, clearing the gate like it was a foot high at the most.

No way in hell was that woman human.

It explained her outstanding reputation, though, and Clay had spent too long crawling around the outhouses of this world to really see black and white anymore.

She landed more or less on top of the demon, kicking the radio out of his hand before he had the chance to press a single button. She swung her sword once, widely, and he ducked, putting himself right in front of her reverse swing.

His head hit the ground less than five seconds after the whole scuffle started. None of the guards had called for help or even gotten to their weapon.

“Holy fuck,” Roque breathed, sounding dazed. “Marry me.”

Summers, who was already inside the gate post, pressing buttons to let them in, laughed. They were all moving already and reached her within a handful of seconds, weapons at the ready. Snake and Roque made quick work of the guards, simply dumping them out of sight in the tree line. By the time they came around, they wouldn’t be a threat anymore and stupidity was, unfortunately, not punishable by death. Texas launched his rifle up onto the roof of the post and then scrambled up after it, getting into position.

“Honey,” Summers said as she retrieved the rest of her weapons from the backpack and abandoned it on the ground, “You just love me for my skills. That’s no way to build a relationship. Now hand me that knife, would you?”

To the Losers’ complete and utter amazement, Roque nodded solemnly and handed over one of his prized knives. They all watched as Summers did what she called ‘pumpkin carving’, removing the demon’s heart.

Then she wiped the knife off on her shorts and handed it back, handle first. Roque took it, flipped it once and made it disappear again.

“So, can you handle it?” Summers asked as she grabbed her gear and leaned inside the guard post to thumb the gate closed again.

Clay looked at her, eyebrow raised. “Handle what?” he asked as he motioned for Roque to lead the way along the perimeter.

“Getting Uncle Sam to buy me new jeans.”

Snake laughed quietly and then offered, “Got it. There are two guards coming at you from the right and another two…”

Yeah, so, Clay didn’t care what kind of favor he had to call in for this one, he was definitely keeping this woman.



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