CRUEL SUMMER.

🕸 “You guys good, or…? Wanna grab a burrito?”

“Depends on the topic. Right now, talk about humanity is a trend but who knows how long it lasts.”

“ Kinda gets old after a while. Though I guess some people here just have way too much baggage that they need t’ sort out, so they wind up doing philosophy 101 on a semi-regular basis. I mean if it helps it helps, I guess. ”

“ Anyway, what kinda movies do ya like? ”

       ❛   Hey, we’ve all got problems. It helps some people to talk it out, I guess... I’m just starting to get the feeling the whole island needs some serious R&R. Maybe some retail therapy. Maybe a mixer or something.   ❜

Badou, a rather stupid bystander who isn’t screaming but is drenched in mud, laughs stupidly loudly too.

“Heh…industrial grade suck.” It’s a bit of a delirious sounding laugh, and his aim is a little sloppy when he fires at some gunk that gets a little too close, but he makes it. It splatters loudly, and he also sighs. 

“Haven’t you played a video game before? They respawn, it’s what they do. When we get too tired, they’ll eat us or whatever.”

Is he worried? Accepting? Joking?

           OKAY,   that spray of goop was a little closer than she’d like, but she’ll let that slide. He appreciates her humor, so she might be a little predisposed to being agreeable. 

       ❛   Video games ?  Never really had the time. I guess I never will, since these things’ll just keep popping up until I’m forty.   ❜  As if to prove her point, another attempts to rise a few yards ahead. Buffy takes a running start, somersaulting mid-air before bringing her stake down straight through the CPN’s half-formed body. Was it necessary to do a little flip ?  No. But it was fun. 

       ❛   You know, this isn’t much different from vampires. You wait a little while, they pop out of their graves like they’ve got the jump on you, and  BAM— pointy end. But usually it’s a couple a night, not... dozens.   ❜  There didn’t seem to be much point not bringing up her usual occupational hazard. It sort of paled in comparison to this whole apocalypse theme the island has going right now.

          damn.

  that really was the only thing she could think to describe what it is that she thought upon watching the stranger fight. it was obvious that she was far stronger than a normal human, but not inhuman. Musashi knows that mortals can be capable of amazing feats– hell, she faced off against Servants before she herself became one by a twist of fate. there’s a sense of grace and agility in the woman’s body as she twists and turns, moving with a practiced ease that could be on par with a Pseudo-Servant. it was beautiful in its own way. not many people would find something beautiful in this sort of hellscape scenario. most see someone looking like they just walked out of hell and grimace, but not the Saber. no, she admires her techniques, her strengths and it’s impossible to keep the subtle hint of a grin from tugging at her lips. 

                 she’d love to fight her one day, but such urge is pushed down for later. survival of this place was far more important and not to mention, one of the Ofiuclones still needed to be dealt with, now that her ‘guard’ has been quickly dealt with. “ Hope you still got enough left in you, because it’s not over yet.”

   the Saber’s gaze moves towards the clone, eyes narrowing as her jagged and glitched movements increased in frequency. the noises coming from her weren’t clear, but Musashi got the message– she was pissed. that was good. anger means it’s more likely for her to make mistakes, which means more openings. however, it also increases the chances in which this could go horribly wrong. a little trial run needs to occur first and only afterwards will Musashi know how to effectively take it out. she’s already decided on an outcome though, and she will use her Heavenly Eye to achieve that.

      “ I’m not too used with fighting alongside others.” she begins, fingers curlight tighter around her swords. “ And the way I fight isn’t for the most noble of people.” a swordswoman she may be, following her own moral code, but she’ll use every single damn trick in the book if it meant victory. “ I hope that won’t be a problem here, because these guys ain’t going to stop until we’re both dead and I don’t know about you, but I’m quite fond of living.” she flashes a grin towards the stranger. “ Name’s Musashi, but we can get proper greetings out the way later. For now– keep up.”

           that’s the only warning she’ll get before the Servant dashes forward, whizzing past the other woman with the speed of a bullet. she ducks and weaves, avoiding each attack thrown her way, the ooze doing nothing to slow her down. body crouching low, heels digging into the muck beneath, she springs into the air, narrowly avoiding yet another attack. 

   both swords are brought down against the Ofiuclone’s barrier and sparks fly, the sound of metal striking echoing throughout the area. the surprise on her face is so brief it might not even have existed. alright then. teeth grit as she pushes harder, watching as the barrier shudders underneath her strength, crackling with energy. it shakes, it warps, and eventually– it shatters. like chunks of glass, it falls to pieces and there’s a smirk present upon her lips as Musashi drives both blades into the clone’s shoulders, twisting them in place as the Ofiuclone cries out.

         it’s an unspoken sign to the other: here’s an openeing. take it. Musashi will hold the clone in place as long as possible, but eventually, she needs to back off, lest she loses her head before the fight has even truly begun.

            KEEP   up ?  This chick just keeps getting better and better. 

              She takes off like a shot in the dark, dodging the Clone’s swords and spells with ease. Not one to be outdone, Buffy’s quick to follow suit— if she can keep up with a car, she can keep up with this Musashi lady. Or at least not keep her waiting. The ooze sucking up the ground would only slow her down, so Buffy thinks fast; she runs along downed rubble with the ease of a cat in the savannah, jumping from patch to patch without so much as denting her breakneck speed. 

              The Ofiuclone is definitely a multi-tasker, sparing a couple of swords just for Buffy; she’s flattered, really, but they’re just a little too slow. Flame nearly licks at her heels, and another sword must have attempted to predict her movements— but overestimates her height, landing too high up and too far ahead. Not too high up for her to take advantage of, though. As Musashi works on the forcefield keeping the Clone momentarily safe from harm, Buffy lifts her body upward— using the hilt of the energy sword like a bar as she swings herself over the sludge, its electric shocks negligible. Ofiuclone’s energy barrier shatters like shards of glass, and here comes Buffy, crashing in like she’s just broken through a window. 

       ❛   Sorry— traffic was a nightmare !   ❜  Her leg is brought down in a horizontal arc, her foot leaving a sizable dent toward the back of the Ofiuclone’s skull; the force sends her head rearing back, and sparks dance momentarily. She cries out again, more anger than pain; the pain comes when her body attempts to move with her head, but Musashi’s blades keep her firmly in place. Buffy follows up with a punch the moment her head rights itself, knowing her knuckles would probably bruise up instantaneously, and it lands just as the Clone turns her head to look her way. She didn’t expect such an easy shot to her jaw, and therefore put a hell of a lot of extra force behind it. The result ?  Her head spun. … And spun. … A third time around— she almost feels bad. 

             Well, Buffy’s sure there’s some cares. Bills, the dating scene, making sure all her episodes got taped properly, laundry. But right now, the differences in responsibility couldn’t be more vast. One of them leans against a wall, caked in blood that may or may not be hers and more glass and soot in her hair than dye. Her gaze is solemn, taking everything in, playing a game she’s pretty familiar with since she landed in this dimension ( hell dimension ?  the jury’s still out, but they’re reaching a pretty strong verdict right about now ). It’s a fun little game called ‘What Would Giles Say ?’, and it usually involves ‘Oh dear’. Right now, she thinks a ‘Good Lord’ is warranted. 

             The other Buffy has never been called Buffster in her entire life. Her hair is platinum blonde, and Buffy just knows her roots are crying out for mercy. She flits about with a sort of life she hasn’t seen since she was fourteen, long before the words ‘Slayer’ and ‘divorce’ and ‘SATS’ meant anything to her. Her eyes remind her of a doe’s, glancing over at her younger self ( who carries herself like an older self ) repeatedly when she thought Buffy wasn’t looking. But she couldn’t take her eyes off her. Even now, when there’s a certified crisis outside, this Buffy is indoors. She’s not completely carefree, but her concern is glued to her phone at the moment. Why ?  Because she needs to re-read her own instructions. She was so anxious about this world-ending, life-altering event that she just completely bailed on the preparation. Put it off. Rain-checked it. What, did she think an angel was gonna come down and explain it all ?  … Maybe they weren’t so different after all. Buffy would never skip out on yet another apocalyptic scenario, but she would bail after a bad break-up. Even the kind that didn’t end with one of you dead. 

           “Okay...” She says with a confidence Buffy doesn’t feel. Buffy also feels that Other Buffy doesn’t feel it. A brief silence follows as she continues chewing her gum, nodding along with whatever’s written on her cell phone screen. “... Okay. I think I get the gist.” 

            Buffy rests her hands on her hips, angling her head forward in apparent inquiry.  ❛   Well ? Go on. Share with the class.   ❜

            “So here’s the deal. Those things you fought and...” A long glance is given to her disheveled state, upper lip curling slightly. “... Are still wearing— we call those CPNs. They’ve been a huge pain in the ass for years. Some people fight them at night or whatever, so they’re usually fine if you stay in town. Sounds like that’s not how it’s going for you guys, though...”

        ❛   'Some people’ ?  You don’t patrol with them ?   ❜

            “Are you kidding ?  Do I look like a heavyweight champ to you ?” 

             Right. This Buffy had no clue what a Slayer even was. That’s no excuse, she chides herself. That never stopped Willow and Xander back in the day. But Other Buffy continues in her half-assed explanation, twirling a few strands of long blonde hair around her finger as she talks. “Anyways, I guess I’m supposed to give you a blessing. Uh... bless you.  You’re now blessed. I guess.” 

             … Alright, another round. What Would Giles Say ? 

             Her thoughts are interrupted by a shrill ringtone, and both Buffys jump slightly. Other Buffy looks at the screen and laughs with relief; she hates the sound of her own laugh, no matter which Buffy it is. “Look, do you mind ?” Buffy doesn’t really give a verbal response, just a few shakes of the head and a shrug. Other Buffy wasn’t really looking for an answer, because she was already accepting the call. Her voice immediately spread with warmth, but the casual sort— like she’s used to these calls, gets them all the time. 

             “Hey, Mom. No, yeah, I’m okay.” 

             The rest is lost on Buffy, because her ears are ringing too loud. It’s like she’s lost all feeling in her fingers and toes, and her head feels way too heavy and way too light all at once. Much like that day, her whole body grows unbearably cold— but it still feels like if someone could just dunk her in some freezing-cold water, she’d be alright. Her mouth is unbearably dry when she finally swallows, wordlessly pulling her phone out of her pocket. What Would Giles Say ?  What Would Giles Say ?  She thinks it over and over in her head like a mantra, even though she has no follow-up as to what he would actually say. If she thinks that phrase over and over, she has no time to absorb the information in front of her. She tries not to look, but Buffy can see her other self in her upper periphery as she unlocks her phone. Other Buffy paces back and forth in a carefree sort of way, still twirling that hair around her finger. She doesn’t sound particularly strained; Buffy supposes if she weren’t a Slayer, a lot of the tension between her and Mom would’ve been nonexistent beyond teenage growing pains. She rolls her eyes at something said on the other line, and it’s playful and endearing, and Buffy wants to smack her. Talk to her longer. Tell her you love her. Listen to what she says— since you’re so normal, you’ll probably have a kid yourself someday. 

             She tears her eyes away, closing them tightly to will away the nausea and all that comes with it. When she opens them, she’s focused on the digital screen.  ❛   … Well, I’ll be damned. It worked.   ❜  She’s all blessed or whatever. Alright, Other Buffy, that’s one point for you. 

             And just like that, Buffy’s walking right out the back door. She doesn’t take the time to look at Other Buffy’s décor or fashion choices. She doesn’t raid the fridge, taking advantage of their similar palates. She doesn’t inspect the picture frames she caught on her way through to see if Dawnie is there, because at this point, she’s not sure which answer would hurt more. 

             Other Buffy has her back turned, too busy on the phone with Joyce. But Buffy’s sure she can connect the dots when she notices. Maybe if she was a little calmer, a little smarter, she’d take advantage of this chance to talk to her mother again... or at least get an address. Yellow Pages are a total thing of the past now. But the truth is, even after all the times she’s cried and begged and prayed for exactly this, Buffy’s not sure she can take it. So... What Would Buffy Do ?  

             Bail.

             Maybe she’ll get her head out of her ass over the next couple of weeks, learn more about this Other Buffy. Maybe she’ll tell Mom all the things she didn’t get to say when she came home that day. Maybe she’ll tell her everything. Maybe she’ll meet Other Buffy’s friends, and they’ll order take-out, come to some sort of super-inspiring understanding of one another. … Or maybe Buffy will know deep down that this is all just a cruel reminder of what she’ll never have, not a fun and quirky little look into an alternate reality. Maybe she’ll spend the whole time putting it off and it’ll be too late. Who knows ? 

THE MUMMY.

here's the thing about mummies: why the hell is anyone opening up their tombs ? you were resting. you were peaceful. but someone intruded, barged in and broke down your walls and stole all the parts of yourself that you cherished, and then blamed you for being angry. blamed you for chasing them down no matter how fast they ran and how many obstacles they put in your path. and you know what ? 

                                          they deserve your rage. 

they destroyed something sacred. they didn't give a shit, and they wouldn't ever have lamented their actions had it not been for you — the real hero — getting up and showing them that they don't have the right to destroy and pillage as they please. that is your home. that is your body. nothing they do can take that from you. if not for you, they probably would've kept breaking into tombs and disturbing restful lives without a second thought. you won't be repaid for your good, but i hope you know——  

             The only issue, of course, is that there isn’t just one CPN. That’s without even getting into the Ofiuclone that continues to giggle all creepy-like and throw its magic around, which was just really enforcing her not-so-positive opinion on dolls. So here she was, doing the most intense ab crunches of her life and using both legs to steer the CPN into being a meat shield ( ooze shield ? ) each time they all tried to gang up on her. Which is a lot.  ❛   Five against one is just really unfair. I mean look how— bad I’m making you all look !   ❜

             She’s mopping the floor with these things. That said, she won’t look a gift super-big-pointy-axe-thing in the mouth as it comes crashing straight through a CPN that was a little too close to her hair than she’d like.  ❛   Oh, come to join the party ?  Good, it was starting to— drag a little— !   ❜

             Fortunately, Buffy has always been a master at improvising. If she has to use a downed streetlight as an overpowered baseball bat, then so be it. This weight was nothing compared to that troll’s hammer Glory’s face got comfortably acquainted with.

       ❛   Just stay low—!   ❜  She calls out to the civilian she’d spotted in the nick of time, currently taking cover; they were the whole reason she was trying to keep this CPN at a comfortable distance.  ❛   One more strike and this thing’s out !   ❜

            She wipes her hands in quick smacking motions against her jeans, but those were soaked in mud long ago, so it’s not all that effective. Buffy lets out an exasperated sigh, shaking her head as if this were all just some minor inconvenience.  ❛   And since when were they allowed to just pop back up outta the ick ?  That’s unfair. Just makes you wish you had a giant vacuum. Or something with industrial-grade suck.   ❜

           THE   whole pain thing is negligible at this point, as is the ick factor. She’s been in situations that warranted decidedly more strong cries of ‘ick’. But even blood could be worn down over time... whereas this ooze ?  She can practically feel it caking into her skin, her clothes, everything inbetween from the waist down.  ❛   It’s like a day at the beach,   ❜   Buffy bemoans to no one in particular, each wading step just a little bit harder than the last.  ❛   Sand boldly goes where it’s never gone before, and you’re finding it in your stuff for weeks.   ❜

           She’s lost track of how long she’s been doing this— venturing back into the thick of it, fishing people out from within the ick, and scraping the substance off of them both until they come to. She’s even escorted a few back to safe zones herself if they were a little unsteady, part of the way at the very least. But now ?  Now even the Slayer’s feeling just a tiny bit fatigued. So the groan she lets out when she sees a swinging blur is sort of unintentional, but it’s definitely one of relief. Buffy shoots a hand up as if flagging down a familiar face, stray flecks of mud flicking off her fingertips in the process. Just a teeny little break from the impromptu leg day, that’s all she’s asking for.

       ❛   Hey ! If you gimme a lift, I’ll pay the fare !   ❜

      in a way, she’s likenng this situation to something of a darker or worse off Shimousa. the red skies now died a permanent black, the emergence of some corrupted entity that needed to be stopped. and though she’s not been in this city nowhere near long enough to know all the details on what led to this, she didn’t need to. this world currently held the existences of those she cared of, people she promised to always be there for.  she couldn’t sit and do nothing, even if she shouldn’t exist right now, lke this.

       after all, Musashi had made her peace on that interstellar mountain. her sword cut what it needed to. but by some miracle, she is here. once more, her and her swords are needed to help take back a world. that transient existence of hers found itself here, and even if she were to vanish once more once this was all over, it doesn’t change the facts. who is she to deny that?

    “ It’s about time you cut it out–!”

      no amount of weariness could hold the Saber down as she falls back from another strike against the clone. just as she did in her duels, she would not stop until this clone was dead and gone. as soon as her feet touch the ground, she’s moving again, drawing close to her enemy. the Servant drives one of her blades through the side of the neck of one of many CPN’s that seemed to crowd the clone like some sort of protection detail and she tugs as her heels dig into the back of its body. she uses it as a shield, grunting in effort as she forces it to move to take the strike from one of its fellow abominations. 

         in one movement, she beheads the creature used as a shield, using it as a launching pad to bring the full force of her swing down the center of another CPN, ignoring the ooze that made them splattering against her person upon its defeat. no sooner did her feet touch the ground once more did she spin, leg raising to deliver a roundhouse kick to the jaw of another, sending it flying from her immediate area. though her body screamed in protest, blood oozing freely from unattended wounds, she doesn’t falter. if she could handle a Servant as a mere human, then she can handle this as a Servant.

   twin blades are raised to block a strike aimed in her direction, teeth clenching as she pushes back, blades slice ooze-made apendages clean off. she catches her breath quickly before her attention turns to behind her, eyes narrowed as her voice raises above the symphony of battle that rang throughout the city.

    “ Hey– are ya done oggling?! A little help would be nice! We can’t take that thing out until we deal with its fan club!”

        ❛   ‘Cut it out’  — that was a good one.  ❜

            OKAY   , she’ll admit... that was totally her bad. It’s not that she meant to spectate — normally she’s way more reliable than that. It’s just that this swordswoman had such a distinct rhythm that Buffy was almost convinced she’d get her killed if she just barged right in and disrupted it. She’s been on the receiving end more than once of that kinda thing; let’s just say it took a while for the Scooby Gang to find its groove. But in hindsight, that was a stupid reason to not get involved, and it was probably just a cover for her being totally blindsided by the cool factor of it all for a minute. 

            But time-out was over, and it was past time for her to tag in. She gets a running start, breaking into a sprint with ease. A CPN doesn’t take kindly to the interference, snarling and going straight for the jugular; she doesn’t break her stride for a moment, her bloodied stake soaring through its mouth with deadly precision. It easily pierces through to the other side, but only for the second before she whipped past it. Her real target is trying to crowd aforementioned cool lady, and Buffy felt the need to make up for her flub-up in spectacular fashion. She launches upward before the CPN can process her intent, legs wrapping around its head with the sort of force that would knock out fleshier beings. In the precious seconds the CPN takes to try and throw her off, she sends herself diving toward the ground— still gripping tightly with her thighs all the while. It was stunned by the time it hit the floor, making it easy to drive her stake through its heart ( or at least its chest cavity ). These may not be vampires, and may not even technically be undead... but with enough antivirus imbuing the temporary successor to Mr. Pointy, that didn’t seem to make much of a difference. Technology’s come so far ! 

         A   wooden stake twirls between her fingers— a real stake, not those dinky little bamboo skewers she found in her pocket when she first got here. Seems like Other Buffy had been right; she may not be a computer whiz like Willow, but even she can tell the ‘antivirus’ coating was working as intended. These CPNs sure loved to swarm... but that was nothing new. I mean, really, when you get right down to it, it’s the same old song and dance. Something wants humans dead, so she’s got to make them super-dead. She continues at her leisurely pace, a slight bounce in her step as she drives her stake effortlessly through the chest of another zombie-like corrosion.

    ❛   That’s you logging out !  ❜   Buffy tries again, pausing as if looking to the remaining CPNs for feedback. They gave feedback, but more of the audiovisual loop-y kind. She sighs with a shake of the head.  ❛   I know, I know !  I’m just not feeling these at all. Ugh— I really need to get with the times. Whatever time it is.  ❜