I don’t own Buffy or WH40k.
Takes place sometime after season seven, disregards comics. Every Scooby has started a training regime for “Baby Slayers”, and have separated for an undefined amount of time.
Molly smiled as she watched the new recruits to “Harris’s Irregulars” celebrate the end of basic Slayer training. One of the girls seemed to be holding court over the group of 10 “baby slayers”. She decided to wander over and see what was so fascinating.
“I’m telling you, we need to do something to commemorate this.”
“And I’m not disagreeing, but what should we do, go get tattoos? That’ll go over really well with bossman.”
Molly took this opportunity to speak up. “Actually, there’s not much he can say, not without being a hypocrite, anyway.”
“What? Bossman has a tat? Where?!”
“Keep going, you forgot when, how and why.” Molly grinned at the annoyed looks the other girls shot her. “He has a tat on his back, across both shoulder blades. It’s in Latin or something so I don’t know what it means.”
“You saw it?”
“Yeah, bossman got clawed by a Saalah, wound wasn’t too bad, but his shirt didn’t make it.”
“Well, what was it”
Abigail, one of the girls with a more formal education, let out a startled gasp, drawing all eyes to her. “It means…”die standing”, or maybe, “I die standing.”
All the girls looked at each other, the already great respect they held for the one-eyed man swelling to new heights. Grace suddenly got a curious look on her face. “”I die standing”, “We die standing” that phrase is familiar.”
“Really, you recognize what it’s from or something?”
“I think so, let me go check something.”
Grace ran off into her dorm room and came rushing back with her laptop in hand. The girls waited impatiently for the machine to boot up, and when it did, Grace typed the English phrase into Google. The first several links were videos. “I thought so.”
“You thought what, exactly?”
“Bossman’s a dork.”
“Yeah, we all know that, but why does having such a cool tat make him one?”
“Because it’s a song title from a video game.”
“Warhammer 40k, Dawn of war.”
“What’s the song about?”
“It’s the theme of the Imperial Guard, mere normal men placed on the frontlines against foes who can go to- to-toe with 8 foot tall giants in power armor.”
The girls thought about that.
“So bossman, frail human that he is, identifies with the smucks in a game? Why? What kind of big bads does this “Imperial Guard” face?”
Grace turned to her computer and began to dig…
Time passed. More Slayers were found and trained. For the rest of the Scoobys, nothing much of note happened, except for Xander’s slayers re-naming themselves “The Sisters of Battle” on council paperwork, until the day came when all the disparate teams were re-united for cross-training. “Buffy’s Bitches”, “Faith’s Furies”, “Willow’s Wildcats” “Giles’ Girls”, and “Dawn’s Delights” all ran around and socialized with all the decorum and restraint expected of teenage girls. That is to say, none. One by one each Slayer paused in her tracks and cocked their heads to the side, like a dog listening to something that humans can’t hear.
Dawn glanced around nervously. “What is it?”
Faith answered her, “sounds like marching, and it’s getting closer.”
In short order, even the council members lacking in the super-sense department could hear the rhythmic stomping. The Slayers scrambled to the door and weapons appeared in hands as if by magic. In the case of “Willow’s Wildcats” it WAS by magic. The Slayers assembled on the lawn of the Council headquarters and waited for the source of the pounding to turn the corner into view.
The first thing the collected members of the council saw was the silhouettes of figures with a banner hoisted overhead. The banner was of a winged woman holding aloft a flaming sword. The figures resolved themselves into a regiment of women wearing black and crimson leather armor, leading them was a man in a greatcoat and military style cap with a winged skull on top.
As if on cue, the marching group halted, and only the man and standard bearer continued on to where the Slayers and Scoobys were waiting.
The standard bearer’s face came into view, it was clearly a teenage girl, most likely a Slayer, but across both her cheeks was a tattoo. Stans Morior. The man spoke.
“Hey Buff, what’s the what?”
The Sisters of Battle had arrived. The enemies of Mankind trembled.
And far away, across several realities, a being more machine than flesh and more will than anything else sat upon his throne of gold, and was pleased.
I know that “We die standing” is Imperial Guard, not Soritas, but I needed something that Xan would latch onto and that would resonate with Slayers. Also, I used an online English to Latin translator, so I don’t know how well the translation holds up. And Latin doesn’t have an “I” pronoun. But High Gothic isn’t really Latin anyway. Read, review, and join the challenge! This is the first story I’ve written in about a decade, and all of those were for High School, so you can certainly do better.