Fic: Nazis? Really?
Title: Nazis? Really?
Author: Wyndewalker
Xover Fandom: Indiana Jones
Summary : Xander is captured by an unexpected Big Bad where he meets a certain archaeologist.
Challenge: twistedshorts August-Fic-A-Day
Authors note:
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1,009 according to Word
Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Indiana Jones or Buffy the Vampire Slayer. All rights belong to their owners and I merely borrow the characters for your amusement.
"Hey! Watch the hands, lady," Xander Harris bitched as he was unceremoniously shoved into a cell, his hands still tied behind his back. "You're not even close enough to being evil enough for the Xand-man. Plus I don't date mass-murdering rascist bigots. It's bad for my karma."
"As if I would ever sully myself by even thinking of you in such a manner, you pathetic fool," the tall blonde woman sneered in a thick German accent as she slammed the cell door closed. She spat at him through the bars for good measure before stalking away.
"Great googly-moogly," he muttered once she was out of sight. "Freaking Nazis? What the hell? G-man is so giving me hazard pay for this. A clan of M'Deng'ra demons, sure, no problem. Slice and dice, grab the mask, and home I go. Well, to Cairo I go. Same diff these days. But freaking Nazis though? Actual real-life World War II Nazis! That's a new one even for me. We're talking whole new levels of..."
"Anyone ever tell you that you talk too much, kid?"
"All the time," he quiped automatically dropping into a fighting stance as he spun to face the new voice. His suddenly free hands holding the rope he'd been tied with like a garotte. Leaning against the wall in the far corner, was a man in his mid to late forties wearing what Xander had mentally dubbed archaeologist adventurer wear. The accent pegged him as American. When the guy didn't do anything other than raise an eyebrow Xander slowly straightened up. "So what did they grab you for?"
"Nazis hate me in general but this time I'd say it's because we're all after the same mask. Whoa! Calm down, kid. Are you always this paranoid?" The man asked, hands held up in a placating manner when Xander dropped back into his fighting stance at mention of the mask.
"When I've got actual Nazis looking for a tribal mask capable of raising the dead? Hell yes I'm paranoid. So what is this? Some kind of good cop, bad cop deal? You working for them? A friendly accent to make me unintentionally spill my guts?"
"Like hell I'm working for them!" The man shouted indignantly. "I've been fighting Nazis since before your parents were even born, kid."
"Right," Xander snorted. "Next you're going to tell me you're Captain America and you spent sixty odd years frozen in the Arctic ice after foiling a Hydra plot. Pull the other one, buddy."
The guy sighed. "I'm not Captain America, kid. Those were just comic books. My name is Indiana Jones. I'm just an archaeologist who's managed to foil a few Nazi plots in my time. One which happened to include finding and then losing again the Holy Grail. Drinking out of it doesn't make you immortal but it does extend your life span a bit."
"Huh." Xander slowly straightened back up again. "Holy Grail as in The Holy Grail? The cup of Christ Holy Grail? What's it look like?"
"Well, before it fell into a fissure it was a simple carpenter's cup. Now I'd guess it's just crumbled bits of wood somewhere deep in the earth."
"You really found the Holy Grail. Holy shit. I'll have to remember to include that in my next report to G-man. So why are you looking for the Mask of Ooloolong? You don't strike me as the type to go in for raising zombies. Oh, Xander Harris by the way, Nice ta meetcha." Xander held out his hand. Indy shook it giving him a strange look.
"It's a historical artifact that should be in a museum. You really believe that mask can raise the dead? And who's your handler in the FBI? Isn't this a little out of your jurisdiction?"
"First, you drank from the actual Holy Grail, haven't aged a day and you don't believe in the supernatural?"
Indy shrugged. "Most of the time it's just superstitious horse shit."
"Yeah, in this case, not so much. Though from what I gathered the idiots out there think it's actually for resurrecting someone not just raising them as a zombie. They need to get better translators." Xander huffed moving towards the door to look through the bars, trying to see where any guards might be positioned, then he began examining the door itself. "Second, I'm not FBI. Eww. Me in a suit? I don't think so. I looked like a total dork in my tux at both my prom and my wedding-that-wasn't. Wearing one everyday? Not in this lifetime. I work for the ICSW. Any idea how many guards they've got around this place?"
"Hard to say but it looked like they had a decent sized force here," Indy answered watching the young man with some bemusement. "Somewhere around thirty or forty I'd say. Any idea how close they are to getting that mask?"
"Half a world," Xander said with a grin. "They're never gonna find it before it gets destroyed which," he glanced at his watch bobbing his head side to side as he did the mental math, "is going to be in about five minutes."
Suddenly they could hear the sounds of explosions, shouts and screams coming from outside. Xander gave Indy a feral grin. "Sounds like the cavalry is here. Ready to blow this popsicle stand? My people will be happy to give you a ride back to the civilization of your choice."
"Yeah, sure, kid. How exactly do you plan to get us out of here though?"
"When building a cell you really shouldn't spend all your money on just the door." Xander took a step raising his foot and slamming it into the door next to the hinges. Indy gaped a little when the wall itself gave way instead of the door. "Come on. I want to get out there before my girls can officially claim they rescued me. I'll never hear the end of it otherwise."
Indy followed behind him almost feeling sorry the people who had been holding them captive. Almost.
Finis