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Maybe Now, Maybe Later, Maybe Never

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Summary: Disjointed plot bunnies, possible additions or scenes to my other works, possible future fics, one-shot ficlet dump of unpublished works.

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Multiple Crossings > Xander-Centered(Past Donor)gunsmithFR1822,4741125,98216 Nov 1029 May 11No

Thirteen

“Thirteen”
By: Gunsmith3000
Began: 10-27-2009
Completed:???



Disclaimers: All characters represented are the properties of Joss Whedon (primarily Angel and Buffy series), Millarland and Top Cow Comics, Funimation, and Shonen Jump. I’m simply taking my own spin on things in my story as I hit “blend” and “puree” on the “world” they created while substituting my own..

Summary: The Harris luck was something to behold. The consequences were some things neither side could have predicted. A stray cat has come calling, bearing bad luck.



Halloween, a few months ago:

After all those years being with Sven and Eve is starting to show in every little thing I do, and sometimes even when I think. Last thing I remember helping them rake in the next target for our job when the machine the mad genius we were after blew up. I should’ve known it wasn’t going to be easy.

Heh, since when were all of our sweeper jobs that easy?

Next thing I knew, I was in the middle of a nighttime street rather than the midday sun outside of that French bastard’s hideout with some ghost chick yelling at me and a bunch of some mutant-like things crawling all over the place. From her voice and accent, I would hazard that I’d been somehow transported to the States.

I look around me as I try to get my bearings and noticed that neither Sven or Eve made it here with me. A roar behind me droves me instinctively into combat mode as I evaded whatever it might be as I brought out Hades and fired. The custom hand-cannon, a constant reminder of my days as one of the numbers blasted the creature ten feet away from its position, wounded, but not dead.

I shook my head as the strange ghost berated me about shooting a child. I stared at her as if to say “What child?” I shook my head again and sprinted off. Whatever was happening here, I had to find out if it was the result of the mad Frenchman’s crazy experiments.

Unfortunately, something made me glance at my reflection on the glass of a closed store as I sped past.

The face staring back wasn’t me.



No weapon forged by man, huh?

Now I wonder if the rocket launcher would be enough.

I tried not to dwell on that as I ran toward the mall where the rest of the Scoobies were for the showdown with the Judge using the stolen rocket launcher. I prayed that I’m not too late in case the damn plan blew up in their face.

One thing I know for damn sure - that if things do go south - I sure as hell don’t want to be anywhere near Buffy’s mom if I didn’t make it in time.

Just thinking about THAT let me pour out more speed into my mad dash towards ground zero. The wind whipped through my body and made the back of my London-styled, customized pea coat trail behind like a short cape and exposed the holster with its special cargo on my right thigh.

The silenced custom hand cannon wasn’t exactly standard issue, nor were its origins. It wasn’t manufactured, nor was it forged. In fact, while created by human hands, it never had contact with it. I blame Halloween and the prop that served as the inspiration for the weapon that rested inside the custom holster on my right thigh that bore a stylized roman numeral along its barrel. Properly enchanted to the gills, it would only serve the wielder that created it. Best of all, it had unlimited ammunition courtesy of everything else that happened to me. Well, as long as I’m still alive. That is.

As I neared the entrance to the mall grounds, I saw a stampede of shoppers exiting the building post haste. I reigned in my shock and swallowed hard, then braced myself to slice through the bedlam to reach my friends with caution as to not hurt the bystanders.

I weaved my way through with the preternatural agility I found myself also gifted with since that night. Unfortunately, the sight that came next after the crowd exited the damned mall made it looked like that was the easiest thing I had to do so far. The rest of the shoppers left inside where blocked off by vampires and demons alike. They were between the proverbial rock and a hard place. The rock was the pissed-off slayer holding a rocket launcher somewhere inside that mess. The hard place was the demon that literally burned humanity from the inside out.

A metaphorical switch turned on within me; out came the gun from its holster as I placed calculated shots into each target with unerring accuracy while at a dead run as I tried to map out an indirect route to the Scoobies on the fly. Relying on basic sharpshooter instinct, I made my way to the stairs leading to the upper levels while taking out whatever came my way. Any good shooter worth their salt knew that high ground is a good tactical advantage. It’s a simple fact that even professionals still use as they grow in skill. Why else do snipers usually favor firing from a higher vantage point more than half the time in an op?

The acoustics within the mall’s architectural layout allowed me to hear where the epicenter of the bedlam was coming from. With every silenced shot spent, I directed shots in between kills toward the lights on either side of the level I was on to mask my approach. Considering the chaos down below, I shouldn’t have bothered, but one can never be too careful.

The closer I got to the target area; I could feel a charge in the air that grew thicker with ever step. A clear view below showed Buffy shoulder the rocket launcher and prepared to fire.

“Hello, Judge.” I whispered as I brought my silenced hand cannon up in a one-handed aimed grip. “I’ve come to bear you some bad luck.”

The world slowed to a crawl as I timed my shot by watching Buffy’s finger slowly descend upon the firing stud. Not taking my chances on a possible miss-step, I rapidly fired off two shots before her finger made contact with the launcher’s trigger.

Just before the rocket’s impact, the Judge’s eyes widened as he spotted me a split second after he reacted to the hit on his chest and head. Covered by the flare of the rocket, nobody noticed the soon-to-be dead demon suddenly twitch right before the anti-tank shell helped blow him further into bits. This time the bedlam that ensued came in the form of demons that scrambled away from the blast as they joined the ones that already started running the moment they saw the Slayer lug out the shoulder-mounted portable missile.

Satisfied that the target below was really in more pieces than Humpty Dumpty, I made my way back out with a lot more stealth as I moved among the shadows. Amidst the confusion that still occurred outside, I unnoticeably slipped into the crowd and pretended I had been with them all along. Thanks to my earlier sprint, it wasn’t hard to look as frazzled and bewildered as they were. I’m fairly sure no one was able to recognize me on the way in at the speed I was going, but going out was another matter as a certain detective and his police squad showed up late to the party. Luckily, the moron never noticed Buffy and company as they made their getaway with an empty launcher shell on the western side of the crowd.

I snort in disbelief when I overheard Stein’s bullshit of an explanation about a gas leak in the mall. How in the hell can these guys buy into that excuse even with the evidence right before their eyes is beyond me. As much as I wanted to stay to listen to more stomach-churning drivel, I kept up a slow pace and maneuvered my way outwards and away from the scene.

Once outside the mall’s perimeter, I aimed my feet homeward in a steady walk. I should feel like hell after a wild sprint into combat like that, but the fatigue was already fading. It still freaked me out at how much my body is rapidly recuperating. According to the nanomachine colony that I inherited from the incident’s aftermath, I would never die a natural death. Apparently, “Wolverine”-type healing was staring to work as advertised now that the nanomachine colony was filling back up to a respectable level inside my body.

A car horn blared behind me and startled me from my thoughts as I whirled around in a defensive stance in case it was an attack.

“Fuck.” I cursed in reflex and instantly regretted it when I saw who had come up behind me.

“Xander!” The woman in the SUV exclaimed from behind the wheel. “Language!”

“Sorry Mrs. S.” I winced in embarrassment as she gestured me to get in.

Time to act like a clown again.

Oh yeah, I guess I should also tell you that I HATE clowns.

They’re bad luck, except that I'm worse.



Illustration


AN: He went as Train Heartnet , from the anime "Black Cat".

The End?

You have reached the end of "Maybe Now, Maybe Later, Maybe Never" – so far. This story is incomplete and the last chapter was posted on 29 May 11.

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