August 2: Your Legend, Should You Choose to Accept It [Mission Impossible]
Title: Your Legend, Should You Choose to Accept It
Author: Jedi Buttercup
Rating: T/PG-13
Crossover: Mission Impossible (Movies)
Spoilers: Post-series for B:tVS; general spoilers for MI series
Disclaimer: The words are mine; the worlds are not.
Notes: Crack this time; retitled after I had a moment to think about it. Because I saw an article about a certain thing all of Tom Cruise's more profitable movies have in common. :)
Summary: The resonant sound of hard soles slapping against pavement distracted Buffy from her latte, and she looked up to scan the sidewalks around the café. 900 words.
The resonant sound of hard soles slapping against pavement distracted Buffy from her latte, and she looked up to scan the sidewalks around the café. Just the fact of someone running didn't necessarily mean that her intervention would be necessary; the sun was still up, for one thing, and who wasn't late trying to get where they were going once in a while? Still, it was hard to shut off the Slayer instinct that sent the adrenaline spiking in her system, suggesting that the odds were good whoever it was was either predator or prey.
Nothing immediately presented itself as an anomaly, though, and the downtown area they were in was full of several-story-high buildings, all glass and stone and other sharp-cornered echoey surfaces. "Can either of you tell where that's coming from?"
Willow lowered her own mug, licking a line of froth off her lip. "Sounds like someone's in a hurry," she said, frowning slightly as her gaze went a little unfocused. "Not one of ours though. I'm not getting any unusual energy; just... someone in a hurry."
"Most people around here are; the supernatural communities in this area are very well managed."
The third person at their table, a professionally dressed woman six or seven years older than Buffy and Willow, was one of the oldest of the former Potentials who'd been activated by the Scythe back in '03. She'd been much more involved in helping rebuild their information networks after the destruction of the OG Watchers than actually Slaying, though; she was one of the sharpest women Buffy had met, and always made her feel slightly disheveled, no matter how much time Buffy had spent in front of her mirror that morning.
"Still," she said, still trying to scan the crowds around her for the source of the sound. "I'd feel better if...."
She cut herself off there as a man suddenly came barreling around the corner of a building a few blocks distant: slightly shaggy dark hair, neither particularly tall nor very short, dressed in dark slacks, a nondescript shirt and a sports jacket, and bolting as if his life absolutely depended on it. Other pedestrians and cyclists scattered swiftly out of his way, and cars honked as he veered abruptly into traffic; he weaved between several vehicles and skidded over one car's hood like something out of the Dukes of Hazzard, then actually picked up speed and vanished between another pair of buildings.
The whole spectacle had only taken a few seconds. Buffy gaped, staring in disbelief at the disordered wake left behind him, then gave Willow an astonished look.
"Was that who I think it was?"
"Oh my God, Buffy. I think it was!" Willow replied, equally astonished. "Oh, where's my phone; I have to text Kennedy. She bet Vi would be the next one to spot him; she's in Italy this month."
"...Wait. You recognized him?" Nyah Nordoff-Hall interrupted, her voice gone suddenly sharp in a disapproving, British way that reminded Buffy very much of Giles.
Buffy exchanged a quick glance with Willow, then turned her attention back to the street he'd appeared from, wondering if he was chasing this time or being chased. "Not recognized him, recognized him. But you've seen the recent urban legend files, haven't you?"
Something cleared in Nyah's expression, and she lifted her eyebrows. "Oh... you mean the one about the Running Man? You think that was him?"
"If it isn't, he was sure doing a good imitation," Willow said, gesturing enthusiastically. "The guy just appears out of nowhere, usually on a busy street. Sometimes in a suit, sometimes less formal, but always, always running. It could be Europe, Southeast Asia, the Americas, Dominique even swears she saw him in Dubai once in a sandstorm. No one ever sees where he's coming from, and no one can ever catch him. But if you pay attention to the news-- something weird usually happens right after he makes an appearance. Like after Dubai-- who runs into a sandstorm? But then something that looked like a small aircraft clipped a building in San Francisco, and the news ran with a slow-moving meteor story." She made a scoffing noise. "I wish our media game was that good. But the thing is, every Slayer or witch or Watcher that's caught a glimpse of him says he doesn't ping any of their radar. He's not supernatural. Just... impossible."
Nyah coughed suddenly, covering her mouth, then said in a choked voice, "Oh, he's... something all right."
"Are you okay?" Buffy asked, frowning at her suspiciously. "Wait... did you recognize him?"
"Oh, no," Nyah replied quickly. "It's just... to someone in the mundane underworld, our line of work is the exotic urban legend. It shouldn't surprise me that to Slayers, it's spies and the like who fill the same fairy-tale niche. It made me wonder what he's caught a glimpse of, and wondered about, over the years."
Buffy stared at her a moment longer, pointedly. "Maybe we'll actually catch up to him one day and ask him," she finally suggested, lifting her cup again to have another sip of yummy latte.
"Maybe you will," Nyah conceded, wryly. Then she framed her own cup with her hands and took a deep breath. "Now, where were we...."
Buffy sighed, and let it go. For now.
Strange impossible men aside, they did still have their own job to do.
-x-
Author: Jedi Buttercup
Rating: T/PG-13
Crossover: Mission Impossible (Movies)
Spoilers: Post-series for B:tVS; general spoilers for MI series
Disclaimer: The words are mine; the worlds are not.
Notes: Crack this time; retitled after I had a moment to think about it. Because I saw an article about a certain thing all of Tom Cruise's more profitable movies have in common. :)
Summary: The resonant sound of hard soles slapping against pavement distracted Buffy from her latte, and she looked up to scan the sidewalks around the café. 900 words.
The resonant sound of hard soles slapping against pavement distracted Buffy from her latte, and she looked up to scan the sidewalks around the café. Just the fact of someone running didn't necessarily mean that her intervention would be necessary; the sun was still up, for one thing, and who wasn't late trying to get where they were going once in a while? Still, it was hard to shut off the Slayer instinct that sent the adrenaline spiking in her system, suggesting that the odds were good whoever it was was either predator or prey.
Nothing immediately presented itself as an anomaly, though, and the downtown area they were in was full of several-story-high buildings, all glass and stone and other sharp-cornered echoey surfaces. "Can either of you tell where that's coming from?"
Willow lowered her own mug, licking a line of froth off her lip. "Sounds like someone's in a hurry," she said, frowning slightly as her gaze went a little unfocused. "Not one of ours though. I'm not getting any unusual energy; just... someone in a hurry."
"Most people around here are; the supernatural communities in this area are very well managed."
The third person at their table, a professionally dressed woman six or seven years older than Buffy and Willow, was one of the oldest of the former Potentials who'd been activated by the Scythe back in '03. She'd been much more involved in helping rebuild their information networks after the destruction of the OG Watchers than actually Slaying, though; she was one of the sharpest women Buffy had met, and always made her feel slightly disheveled, no matter how much time Buffy had spent in front of her mirror that morning.
"Still," she said, still trying to scan the crowds around her for the source of the sound. "I'd feel better if...."
She cut herself off there as a man suddenly came barreling around the corner of a building a few blocks distant: slightly shaggy dark hair, neither particularly tall nor very short, dressed in dark slacks, a nondescript shirt and a sports jacket, and bolting as if his life absolutely depended on it. Other pedestrians and cyclists scattered swiftly out of his way, and cars honked as he veered abruptly into traffic; he weaved between several vehicles and skidded over one car's hood like something out of the Dukes of Hazzard, then actually picked up speed and vanished between another pair of buildings.
The whole spectacle had only taken a few seconds. Buffy gaped, staring in disbelief at the disordered wake left behind him, then gave Willow an astonished look.
"Was that who I think it was?"
"Oh my God, Buffy. I think it was!" Willow replied, equally astonished. "Oh, where's my phone; I have to text Kennedy. She bet Vi would be the next one to spot him; she's in Italy this month."
"...Wait. You recognized him?" Nyah Nordoff-Hall interrupted, her voice gone suddenly sharp in a disapproving, British way that reminded Buffy very much of Giles.
Buffy exchanged a quick glance with Willow, then turned her attention back to the street he'd appeared from, wondering if he was chasing this time or being chased. "Not recognized him, recognized him. But you've seen the recent urban legend files, haven't you?"
Something cleared in Nyah's expression, and she lifted her eyebrows. "Oh... you mean the one about the Running Man? You think that was him?"
"If it isn't, he was sure doing a good imitation," Willow said, gesturing enthusiastically. "The guy just appears out of nowhere, usually on a busy street. Sometimes in a suit, sometimes less formal, but always, always running. It could be Europe, Southeast Asia, the Americas, Dominique even swears she saw him in Dubai once in a sandstorm. No one ever sees where he's coming from, and no one can ever catch him. But if you pay attention to the news-- something weird usually happens right after he makes an appearance. Like after Dubai-- who runs into a sandstorm? But then something that looked like a small aircraft clipped a building in San Francisco, and the news ran with a slow-moving meteor story." She made a scoffing noise. "I wish our media game was that good. But the thing is, every Slayer or witch or Watcher that's caught a glimpse of him says he doesn't ping any of their radar. He's not supernatural. Just... impossible."
Nyah coughed suddenly, covering her mouth, then said in a choked voice, "Oh, he's... something all right."
"Are you okay?" Buffy asked, frowning at her suspiciously. "Wait... did you recognize him?"
"Oh, no," Nyah replied quickly. "It's just... to someone in the mundane underworld, our line of work is the exotic urban legend. It shouldn't surprise me that to Slayers, it's spies and the like who fill the same fairy-tale niche. It made me wonder what he's caught a glimpse of, and wondered about, over the years."
Buffy stared at her a moment longer, pointedly. "Maybe we'll actually catch up to him one day and ask him," she finally suggested, lifting her cup again to have another sip of yummy latte.
"Maybe you will," Nyah conceded, wryly. Then she framed her own cup with her hands and took a deep breath. "Now, where were we...."
Buffy sighed, and let it go. For now.
Strange impossible men aside, they did still have their own job to do.
-x-