The Legend of Atlantis
Chapter One: The Job
Disclaimer: I don’t own Buffy or Disney’s Atlantis: The Lost Empire.
This story is a continuation of the Ficlet Once Upon a Time…To find out how Xander got here, go back and read the Ficlet.
Washington DC – 1914
The little chime on the door dinged to let Xander know he had a customer.
“I’ll be out in a minute!” he bellowed, setting the gun he was cleaning on the counter and wiping his hands clean with a rag.
The customer was thin and tall with black hair and was examining the half-finished pipe bomb he’d been constructing.
“You’re gonna need more accelerant if you want a good boom,” said a familiar voice.
“Santorini?” Xander gaped in shock.
He’d met Vincienzo Santorini on a job, a mercenary gig in Turkey.
“I thought you were in prison,”
“Yeah, well I got busted out; I have a job lined up, high risk, high pay, lots of funding,”
“I’m an arms dealer now Vinnie, I don’t want any part of your crazy schemes,” Xander warned him.
“It’s not like that, strictly demolitions, no fighting, or terrorism involved,” Vinnie assured him.
“Who’s gonna pay you big to blow shit up?” asked Xander raising a skeptical eyebrow.
“I did a job in Iceland before we met, a bunch of scientists looking for some book, they’re going on a second expedition,” Vinnie explained.
“Where?” asked Xander curious despite himself.
“Atlantis, THE Atlantis?”
“See I knew you’d like that, you always did have a thing for the strange and impossible,” Vinnie said grinning broadly under his bush mustache.
“How are they going to find it?” asked Xander excited despite himself, once a Scooby always a Scooby he supposed.
“They’ve got this book, very, very old, apparently it comes complete with an ancient road map,” shrugged Vinnie unconcerned.
Xander was practically vibrating with excitement, a little change of scenery, a few explosives, and a bit of ancient supernatural mystery.
“You’re sure there’s no terrorism involved?”
“How can you terrorize people who have been dead for like 8,000 years?” Vinnie asked rhetorically.
“I could really use a partner who knows what he’s doing,” Vinnie cajoled.
“Alright, I’m in, when are we leaving?”
“Tomorrow, we’re leaving by sub,” Vinnie said smirking handing Xander a paper with the address scribbled on it.
Xander snatched it from his hand.
“Come in, grab what you need, fix that bomb while you’re at it you mooch, you can take everything out of my stock and you can pay me back when we get paid,”
“I don’t need anything this time, I told you, everything’s taken care of…If I fix the bomb, can I stay here tonight?”
“Just don’t expect me to feed you, that’ll cost extra,” Xander agreed already mentally taking stock of his personal weapons supply and thinking over what he might need for an extended archaeological expedition.
“We’re still dropping into the North Atlantic, right? I should pack warm clothes,”
“Just don’t bring anything pink, you won’t match the décor,” Vinnie deadpanned.
“Ha ha ha,” Xander laughed sarcastically.
Prison hadn’t really changed Vinnie all that much. He was thinner and paler but he still had his odd sense of humor and his frankly disturbing affinity for explosives. He still spoke mostly in a semi-monotone with a thick Italian accent and apparently he still refused to trim his mustache.
They’d met when Xander had fist arrived in California as it was in 1913, Vinnie had been hiding out with the Spaniards and Xander had been working down at the docks. They ended up on the same boat to Turkey and become friends. Vinnie particularly liked his proficiency with explosives, Xander exercised the memories of his time as a soldier rigorously when the two of them partnered up, but then the men Vinnie was working for wanted to plant a bomb that would scare the locals into submission, a typical feeling in Europe with the war on the way. Xander wouldn’t have any part of it and went back to washing dishes on the boat, eventually earning enough to open his little weapons supply depot in Washington. Vinnie did as instructed it but he got caught by the Turks and was tried, convicted and sentenced.
Xander hadn’t thought he’d ever see the man again.
“Hey Xander, you got any nitroglycerin?” called Vinnie distractedly.
“Vinnie, it’s a pipe bomb, it doesn’t need nitroglycerin!” Xander replied rolling his eyes as he shoved a few things haphazardly into a duffel bag.
He checked the linen closet and found the oft forgotten extra set of sheets and fuzzy blanket.
“It would make a very nice boom,” pouted Vinnie setting the pipe bomb on the shelf.
Xander rolled his eyes again and tossed the pile of bedding at the pyro.
“Here, there’s a couch in the back room you can bunk on,”
“So, what’s up with this job?” asked Xander moving a rifle off the rickety chair and onto the three and a half legged coffee table so he could sit.
“The money’s good, s’all coming from some rich old guy, Preston Whitmore,”
“Never heard of him,” Xander shrugged.
“He doesn’t get out much, our commander is ex-military, Rourke,”
“Heard of him,” Xander said one eyebrow going up, “He’s mercenary, you sure this gig’s on the level?”
“I’m pretty sure,”
“Rourke’s got a bad reputation. They say he’ll plough through anyone that gets between him and his payday,”
“He likes to pretend his boys are still military, he’s arrogant, but until it gets down to the bottom line he’s fair,” Vinnie shrugged.
“We’re getting paid directly by this Whitmore guy though, right?”
“I made sure of it,” Vinnie said.
“Alright, how did you manage to get me in last minute?”
“I told Mr. Whitmore he could file you under explosive resources so if you didn’t come I could buy more things that go boom,” grinned Vinnie.
“Great,” chuckled Xander getting to his feet, “I’m going to start on the grub, you pack whatever we’re gonna need weapons wise since you’ve got the full debrief,”
“Sounds good,” agreed Vinnie eying some of the bomb components lustfully.
AN: Alright, for those of you who read Once Upon a Time... I'm sorry to say that the Scoobs did not all fall into the same story, they each fell into the story they picked.
This is Xander's story.