ADULT: Meeting Of Minds - Parts 0, 1, & 2 of 22+
Dana Short (DanaShort@aol.com)
Mon, 12 Apr 2004 05:03:41 EDT
This story may be concidered PG-13 due to both the situation, and
the occasional use of profanity (Chapter 11) when a char was upset.
Please direct flames/comments to DanaShort@aol.com
Please note the story title in the subject line, or your message will
be lost to my SPAM filter.
Preface:
This is a story I started last summer. I had intended NOT to publish
it until it was completed, so I never sent it out anywhere other than
to a select list of Beta Readers. They read over the first 20
chapters, and gave me feedback, which resulted in my restructuring a
large section of the story, and rewriting the first 20 chapters to
varying degrees.
Since I HATE re-doing things, it took from October 'till late March
for me to complete the rewriting of the first 20 chapters.
And here I sit, perched on the edge of another about 20 chapters of
story, and deciding I need some inspiration to go on, I have changed
my mind. I will release this story, one or two chapters or so at a
time.
My plan as it sits is to post this part now, and more on Friday.
Then, each Monday or Friday, I will post another part. If I
eventually start to get caught up with myself (in 10+ weeks, which
would be some time in June or July I think) then I will HAVE to work
harder, just to keep ahead. Meanwhile I will hopefully be getting
feedback from at least a few readers, which will hopefully help to
provide more inspiration and encouragement.
For those of you with thoughts about the direction of the story,
please don't hesitate to speak up, all ideas are appreciated, and may
prove useful. Also, since I still plan a final touch-up pass on this
story, it is not too late to complain that some particular part drags,
or is too confusing, or needs a better description or explination.
If you wish to point out an error I made reguarding the official
Highlander universe, I will listen, but will likely not make a
change, especially if it effects the story. If you have noted an
internal inconsistancy (Where I flubbed and contradicted myself)
please DO contact me as these I will make every effort to rectify.
If you want to tell me my story simply sucks, then feel free to do
so, as even flames are accepted, but the validity I will attach to
them will be directly proportional to their coherency and relevancy.
If you think this posting process is going too slow, I am sorry. I
will at least guarantee that this story will be completed. I know
this because I have already written the last chapter. It is just a
matter of connecting it to the rest of the story, and in a worst
case, I can bridge that at any time, dumping the remaining plot with
some sort of cop-out. But this is NOT my goal. My goal is to finish
the remaining 20 chapters before I need to post them, hopefully with
enough lead time so that my excelent Beta Readers can help me gloss
over the syntax, technical, and spelling errors I inevitably create.
(Look through this preface for examples galore, I am sure!)
The story is based on the Highlander universe, more on the one from
the first movie and the following TV show, than the other films. It
is not necessarily Cannon, as I have taken several liberties,
including almost describing how a particular Immortal came to be,
which is meant to be one of the Great Mysteries of the Highlander
universe. Where I could, timelines and histories match up, or come
as close as possible with reality and or the known Highlander
histories. Everything else I made up, and any theories I expouse
here should not be taken as Highlender Cannon, ore even as reflective
of mine or anyone else's beliefs.
Be warned, This story does have TG elements of a sort, although I did
not include any erotic or standard "Guy becomes a chick" scenes. It
doesn't have any sex scenes. If I were asked to classify this
story, it would be a combination Psychological Drama/Action Adventure.
Hopefully you will enjoy this story. Also, since I will be releasing
it in small parts, it should not clutter up to many mailboxes.
Dana Short, April 5, 2004.
Legal Disclaimer: I own nothing. Well, Ok, I have a car that only
has about fifteen more payments left on it, and I have a bunch of
clothes and some cool electronic equipment like this computer I am
using at the moment, and a minority interest in the house I live in
which is mostly owned by the bank. Other than that, I own nothing. I
most specifically DO NOT own the concept behind Immortals, nor any of
the pre-existing Immortal characters which have slipped into this
story. These are owned by Panzer/Davis, or whoever may of
purchased/licensed them from their creators. Other characters from
other universes owned by other companies may of wandered through as
well, and again their appearance does not in any way imply ownership
of them on my part. There is no copyright infringement intended. As
far as the people I created, others are free to use them, I lay no
claim of ownership to them either, I do however ask that you return
them in the condition they were found, no added romantic/emotional
entanglements or missing body parts (especially heads), please.
Perhaps I own the general plot of the story it's self. However, I
will allow anyone to archive it for free, as long as it is made
available for free, and I am notified in advance of it's addition to
the archive, and the archive's location. I hope you enjoy the story.
========================== ==========================
Meeting Of Minds
A Highlander Fan Fiction
by Dana Short
DanaShort@aol.com
Fully formatted text available at:
www.DanaShort.com/HL-MOM.htm
========================== ==========================
Prologue
A Dark And Stormy Night
September 5, 2003, Savannah, Georgia.
The pattering sound of the rain echoed down the alley as Eadgils,
last speaker of the Flornlef tribe, paused to listen for footsteps.
He heard a crunch as someone ducked behind a dumpster, but from the
breathing, he was able to identify it as coming from The Girl. She
was not one he had to fear, at least not yet.
The Girl had been following him off and on over the past several
months. She was the latest in a long line of shadows, stretching
back almost a thousand years, who had spent their time spying on him
for their records. Once, long ago, he had captured one of them, and
had learned of the Society Of Watchers, a group of scholars, more
than anything else, who saw it as their mission to chronicle the
lives of all Immortals. According to the one he had caught all those
years ago, they were sworn to watch, record, and most of all, to
NEVER interfere.
In all the centuries they had been following him, he had never known
them to break those vows. Even the one he had captured, when faced
with death had remained steadfast in his vows. Eadgils had believed
him enough to bind his wounds, feed him a meal, and release him with
a warning for his fellows, that if they had to watch him, that it
should be at a distance. Over time, he had slowly lowered his guard
to the almost omnipresent pairs of eyes, to the point he no longer
acted directly to lose them, and never bothered to warn them off,
unless they got so close as to be actually rude. Then, of course he
would answer their rudeness with his own, often scaring them away and
earning a replacement.
The Girl was different though. He could feel her when she was
close. For one of his age, he knew well what that meant. She would
Quicken one day, and have to learn the ways of the ones she at
present only watched. He did not envy her that task. In a way, she
would have an advantage, knowing as she did of Immortals, and their
rules. She would know enough at least to seek Holy Ground and to try
to find a teacher.
He had even toyed with the idea of teaching her himself. It had been
many years since he had taken a student. Indeed, it had been many
centuries. As far as he knew, he had no students left in the game.
Perhaps he was not the best teacher after all.
But then again, he himself had survived far longer than most
Immortals he knew of. Granted, he was no Methos, assuming he
actually existed, but he was almost into his fortieth century. He
had seen quite a bit since the Horsemen destroyed his village,
leaving him to awaken among the corpses and the scattered refuse of
his tribe. Since that time, he had witnessed the rise and fall of
civilizations, starting with Rome, which he himself watched grow from
a crossroads town to a city controlling an empire which spanned the
known world.
But now, those same instincts which had served him well all his life
were instead yelling at him that something was wrong.
Slowly, silently, he drew his sword, leaned against the wall, and
waited.
========================== ==========================
Chapter One
On a Rainy Night in Georgia
Sue Danning watched her subject from behind the concealment of a
trash bin.
She had graduated from the Watcher Academy just a few months ago,
following in her father's footsteps so to speak. All her life, it
seemed, she had known about Immortals.
For as long as she could remember, she had known she would be a
Watcher. Her first "assignment", working under her father had been
watching the occasional Immortal as they passed through Los Angeles,
after school, and occasionally during the days in the summers. The
Society had found it useful to be able to toss a young girl on the
trail of some of the more active Immortals, since she was able to
blend almost effortlessly into a crowd. As long as she didn't get
too close.
Long ago, she had learned the lesson of getting too close to
her "subject".
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
April 1998, Redondo Beach, California...
Fourteen year old Sue sat on the beach watching the man her Dad had
told her was over two hundred years old. Funny, he didn't look a day
over twenty. She was fortuitously well dressed for hanging out on
the beach, in a bikini top, and jean shorts, her shoes simple
sandals. She even had a towel to sit on.
Dugan Masters, her subject of this afternoon's observation was kind
of cute. Sue looked across the beach as he stood along the line of
damp sand, just a bit below the high-water line. He was dressed in a
white shirt, and jeans, the cuffs rolled up, showing his naked
ankles, and running-shoes. Seeming casual, with a large beach towel
bunched and hanging over his shoulder in his left hand, he stood
looking out at the ocean.
"I wonder where he has his sword" she thought, looking at the lines
of his pants, and not incidentally deciding he had a cute butt.
Suddenly she flushed red, and looked around to see if she could
figure out why he was wandering the beach today. Earlier, he had
eaten hot dogs, while she had had an ice cream. Obviously he was
killing time, but now he seemed ready for something.
All of a sudden, Dugan tensed, and started looking around. His eyes
settled on a dark-complexioned woman walking up the sand from his
right, and he shifted his stance to face her.
Sue knew somehow that this was what he was here for. But why? The
woman was old, looking to be in her thirties, although from Dugan's
reaction Sue thought she must be another Immortal. That was when she
noticed Dugan had shifted his grip on his towel. It was now hanging
straight down from his right hand, trailing the ends on the
sand. "Ah, so THAT is where he has his sword." She thought, nodding
to herself.
Focusing her attention again on the approaching woman, she noticed
that she also was carrying a large beach towel in her right hand, its
ends dragging in the sand. "No! They aren't going to fight here,
are they?" she thought suddenly as the two faced off on the
moderately crowded beach under the shining summer sun.
Trying to look casual, she rose, plucking her towel from the sand as
she got to her feet.
With a casual saunter, she angled down the sand, picking her way
around other people, as she approached the two Immortals, hoping to
get close enough to hear what was going on.
Dugan was saying something to the woman, who cocked her head and
smiled at him prettily. She replied, with a gesture back behind
herself, in the direction she had come from while shaking her head
slightly.
Sue strolled closer, marking a point on the sand which would give her
a good "excuse" to pass by them on her way back and forth to the
water. Dropping her towel casually on her spot, she continued to
saunter towards the couple, and on past into the water, but as she
approached within a few feet, they both broke off in their
conversation abruptly and simultaneously turned to face her.
"What do we have here" the dark skinned woman said in a dusky voice,
her hand darting out to capture Sue's arm in a painful grip. "Hello
Julie. Here to spy for your uncle?"
Sue writhed in her grip but said nothing, wondering why the woman
called her Julie.
"Let her go Myra. She's just a child". Dugan told her.
"I don't like children." The woman said, tightening her
grip. "Especially ones rude enough to follow me around and
interrupt."
"Let her go, she has nothing to do with this. You know that as well
as I do, she is not a part of the Game."
"She may not be playing yet, but that doesn't mean she won't be a
problem for me later on. I believe in nipping problems in the bud."
The woman replied.
"Nipping problems in the bud is one thing; cutting down the whole
bush before it has had a chance to grow even one flower is another.
LET HER GO." Dugan responded, the force in his last three words
almost palpable.
"Fine." The woman said, casually tossing Sue back towards her
towel. "Get out of here little girl, and tell your Uncle Yoseph that
the next time he uses you to spy on me, one of us will loose their
heads, Game or no Game."
Sue scrambled backwards in the sand, her heart pounding as she
realized the honest and open threat in the woman's words. Climbing
unsteadily to her feet, she ran away to find the parking-lot, a pay
phone, and her Father. She had had enough of Watching for today.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Feeling a buzz from her pager, Sue pulled it off her hip, and flipped
open the cover to read the message displayed within.
"REPORT TO HQ ASAP" was the short message from her supervisor. First
there was the urgent status/location request an hour earlier while
Eadgils or Ed as he was presently known, was eating dinner. Now she
received an urgent call to report back to the local headquarters, for
no apparent reason. She edged back from the dumpster, but as she did
she caught a glimpse of someone entering from the other end of the
alley. Hesitating, she took another look at her subject.
He had drawn his sword, and placed his back, literally against the
wall. Something was up, and whatever was going on it was almost
certainly chronicle material. Ed never drew his sword outside of
practice.
Even as she crouched back down, she heard a crunch of gravel from
BEHIND her, and peering over her shoulder, she saw the man
approaching from her end of the alley, a gun ready in his hand. But,
there was something else, as he passed her hiding place; she noticed
the faint image of a watcher tattoo on his wrist!
Looking back at the figure entering the alley from the other end, she
noticed the outline of another gun. After a few moments of
puzzlement, she put the pieces together, and realized what she was
seeing: Hunters!
In her mind Hunters were among the worst vermin on the earth. They
were Watchers who had not only broken their oaths, but had decided to
actively kill Immortals. Worse, they did so indiscriminately,
killing whatever Immortal they could identify and isolate.
Apparently they were now after Ed.
"No" she called out, as she leapt at the nearest figure, hoping to
wrest his gun from his hand. "Ed, Run! They want to kill you!"
Eadgils swung at the sound of her voice, unfortunately putting his
back to the man coming from the other end of the ally. "What?" he
called in confusion, raising his sword to a "Ready" position over his
shoulder.
Sue had her hands on the gun, and was rolling away from the Hunter.
Ed, seeing the weapon, identified the Hunter as a threat, and lunged
with his sword, ignoring the second man for the moment.
As his sword stabbed the Hunter through the chest, a shot rang out
from behind him and Eadgils, last speaker of the Flornlef fell
forward, dead.
Sue on the other hand was still alive. Now she was armed as well.
"Drop it" she said, pointing the now dead hunter's gun at his partner.
"Bitch! What do you think you are doing?"
"Stopping you", Sue replied coldly.
"The Abomination must die. Don't you understand that?" he asked,
pointing his own gun at her.
"No, I don't. It's not our place to interfere, you know that. How
can you break your oath so easily?"
"A contract signed in ignorance or under false pretences is not
binding. Neither is a so called Oath." He replied. "Now, lower the
gun and perhaps I will let you leave here alive."
"I can't do that." She said. "I can't just stand by and let you kill
him."
"Too bad", he said, and he pulled his trigger.
The pain which blossomed in her stomach was incredible. Reflexively,
she squeezed off a shot of her own, as she fell, her body lying in
the puddle of bloody water, mere inches from Ed, whose back was
showing faint sparks as his quickening worked on healing the hole
made in him by the hunter's bullet. As her vision faded, she saw the
other hunter climb back unsteadily to his feet, clutching a bleeding
hole in his side. Slowly the hunter dragged himself over to where Ed
had dropped his sword, and picked it up.
Her last sight was of the hunter lifting the sword. The last sound
she heard was him crying "No! The abomination MUST die!"
She could no longer feel the pain in her stomach. She could no
longer feel anything, and her last thought was that she had failed.
Then there was just nothing, not even darkness.
========================== ==========================
Chapter Two
Awakening
Coming back from the dead was never pleasant. Eadgils knew that from
all too many personal experiences. The residual pain from the
injury, the pain from the jolt of the heart starting, and the gasp of
the first breath, awareness building suddenly and then, life was
restored.
This time was no different. He felt the rocks and the asphalt
gouging into his face as his convulsion ground it into the earth, his
gasping breath filling his face with dirty water.
As he rolled over onto his back, he first noticed that he felt, wrong.
He laid there, looking up at the still drizzling sky, and thought
back to his last few moments. The Girl had leapt out yelling at him
to run, and was fighting with some man for a gun. He had stabbed at
the man, and then the pain in his back. The other person, who had
been entering from the opposite end of the ally. He had shot him in
the back. After that, nothing. Or rather, not quite nothing. He
also seemed to remember shooting the second man, and being shot in
the stomach. Also dying, He remembered dying twice.
Never before had he remembered dying twice. The pain in his stomach
was fading now. Finally. He took another deep breath, and moved to
sit up. Once again was struck by how, wrong, everything was. Even
now, he felt both weak, and light headed. His body was not moving
properly, and the sensations were all wrong in different but subtle
ways.
He spotted his sword, lying a few feet away, where it had dropped
from the hand of the second assailant, now lying dead, slumped over
another body. But that's not what stopped his brain. Rather it was
what was just past his sword, lying askew in the bloody water. His
head.
Blackness came up and again swallowed Eadgils, as he received the
greatest shock in almost four thousand years.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Spring 1,720 BC, Western Europe...
Eadgils heard the screams as he was returning from the stream with
the filled water sacks.
Dropping the skins, he ran towards the sound, fearing the worst:
raiders.
As he crested the rise, he could see the entire camp was being over-
run by some sort of bandits. Changing his course, he dashed for his
hut, hoping to get to his sword before one of the raiders could cut
him off.
But alas, a sudden flair of pain in his side, and he looked up,
seeing a man with light brown hair sitting astride a horse, lowering
a bow.
Stumbling with the pain and a sudden loss of coordination, Eadgils
fell face first into the dust and skidded to a halt, his last sight
of this world being that of ants in the base of a small bush. The
ants were milling around just as frantically as his fellow tribe folk.
Pain was what awoke him. Pain in his side. Pain on his face. Pain
in his chest, and in his lungs. Pain.
As he sat up in the dust, he scraped the ants off his face, where
they were biting away. Looking down at his side he saw the arrow,
its tip still covered in crusty blood, which had recently been
piercing his side. But now, he reached out with a trembling hand,
and traced the whole, yet still sore skin beneath the bloody hole in
his clothes.
Rising in a state of shock to his feet, he looked down the hill
towards the course filled wreckage, which was all that remained of
his tribe, and its camp.
Stories filtered through his head. Stories of zombies, people raised
from the dead for the purpose of exacting vengeance. Now he realized
they must be true. When he had been learning the stories from the
Speaker, that he might tell them in turn through the years to come,
he had little suspected they might actually be true. But there was
no other explanation he could come up with. He must have been
brought back to exact vengeance on the army who had slain his
people. Why him, and not one of the stronger warriors, he had no
idea. Granted, he was competent with a sword, and could usually hit
at least the edge of a stationary target with a bow, but he was no
trained fighter. He was trained to be a Speaker, a keeper of the
lore and wisdom of his tribe.
For hours he sorted through the wreckage, salvaging whatever he could
find of use. He found no weapons, other than the occasional broken
spear, ax, or arrow imbedded deeply in a corpse. Over the next few
days, he buried as best he could the bodies of his people. Then he
gathered what supplies he had rescued and followed in the direction
the raiders' tracks lead, towards the plains.
Over the next few days, he saw nothing but destruction left in the
wake of the raiders. They would apparently stop to camp
occasionally, then move on. Where they had passed, nothing was left
intact or alive.
It was on the tenth day of his slow trek he found the slave.
Apparently he had been captured by the raiders some time in the past,
and used as a porter. When the raiders had camped here, he had
managed to escape, and was now fleeing in the opposite direction,
figuring wherever they had been was the least likely place they would
go. The slave told him the raiders referred to themselves as the
Four Horsemen. The one who had shot him with the arrow, the pale
rider on the pale horse was known simply as Death. He also learned
one other thing, the horsemen could not die. The slave himself had
seen Kronos stabbed with a spear. He had seen with his own eyes as
the wound closed and life returned. Kronos then tortured and killed
the man who had stabbed him.
Leaving the slave behind, Eadgils continued his pursuit, slowly
gaining on Death and his raiders. A few days later, he came upon the
wreckage of a farm. The livestock was slaughtered, the home toppled,
but there were two survivors. There was a young girl and an older
woman. He found them huddling in the wreckage of the house. The
woman cried in fear upon seeing him, and moved as best she could with
her lame leg to shelter the girl. "Go away" she cried.
It took Eadgils a while to soothe the old woman, but finally he got
her to tell her tale.
"Raiders. I was at the millstone, grinding wheat with two of my
children. My husband was working the field with the older boys,
while my eldest daughter was here, in the house. I heard the noise,
and ran to help, Jer ran ahead. They killed him. I fell, and
twisted my ankle. Sar stayed with me, and they didn't see us in the
bushes. All I could do was hold Sar and watch as they took Jess, and
killed everyone else. Like locusts they were. Killing and
destroying. Everything is gone. Everyone is dead. I hope Jess is
dead as well. It would be better for her."
"Well, I can't leave you here by yourself. Have you any neighbors
who could take you in until you are healed?"
"No. Closest person could maybe stand to help, who'd not just as
soon as kill us, would be Lord Ralas. Has an estate only a 2 day
walk to the north, along the creek. Folks call him 'Protector', He
should know about the Raiders anyhow."
North was not the way he wanted to head, the Raiders were headed
east. But he could no more leave this woman and her child to die
than he could kill them himself.
So they journeyed North, following the course of the water, what
would have been a good half-day's ride, or a normal 2 day walk, but
with the old woman's lame leg, the trip took them a good five days
before they arrived at a small stone keep. There they were greeted
by a man with a sword.
Eadgils stood there, wondering at the peculiar tingling in his head,
as the man walked up to him and spoke "I am Ralas, protector of these
lands. Do you come to challenge me?"
"Uh, no, I come to deliver this old woman and her child into your
care. Their family and home were destroyed by raiders." Eadgils
replied.
The man was silent for a few moments, looking Eadgils up and
down. "Do you not know what you are then?" Ralas asked.
Eadgils flushed. "I know. I did not think it showed, but I know. I
am a Vengeance Zombie, brought back to avenge the death of my tribe.
With the raiders of Death and the other three of the Four Horsemen.
How could you tell?"
Ralas threw his head back and laughed out loud. "Vengeance Zombie!
That's one I've never heard."
"What do you mean?" Eadgils asked, sparking a renewal of Ralas's
laughter.
After his laughter finally died down, Ralas said "I was born close to
three hundred years ago. I died my first death in a battle, and
awoke as my friends were trying to bury me. Since then I have died
several more times, but each time I will rise again, for like you, I
am an Immortal. As such, I can not be truly killed, save by having
someone take my head. I also am bound to live by three rules, passed
on to me by my teacher. Rules followed by ALL Immortals. Rule 1,
All combat must be one-on-one. Rule 2, No Fighting on sacred ground,
regardless of the validity of the god, goddess, or other religion.
And Rule 3, In the end, there can be only One. Come inside, and we
will talk. It is time I also took a student, and I like the looks of
you."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Awareness came again to Eadgils, but unlike rising from the dead,
this time it was more like wakening from a sleep. Oh, there was
still pain, his entire head hurt, especially the back part, where it
had slammed against the asphalt, and his stomach was still a bit
sore, but other than that, it was more a case of gradually becoming
aware again of the world around him, such as the slow drizzle of rain
still falling against his upturned face, the sounds of the water
falling around him in the ally, and the still somehow wrong feel of
his body against the ground.
Opening his eyes again, he sat up once more, then braced himself
before turning to look again at his sword, and his decapitated head
lying just beside it. His head. This prompted him to finally look
down at his body. It took only instants for his brain to sort the
imagery coming from his eyes into a coherent world view, altering
forever his paradigm for the universe. As he had known from the time
he saw his head lying on the ground, he was no longer himself, but
was somehow someone else. What his simple glance down told him was
who he had somehow become. He was now The Girl. But no, that wasn't
right. A part of his mind, like the part which earlier provided the
memory of being shot in the stomach, this time offered up a name.
Sue. Sue Danning. His eyes focused on the light blue tattoo on his
left wrist, and added the title Sue Danning, Watcher.
Unsteadily he got to his feet, and reached down for his sword.
Picking it up, he marveled at how heavy it now seemed. But despite
the weight, there was no way he could just leave it behind. He'd
carried that particular sword for almost eight hundred years, and he
liked it.
He took a final look around at the scene of his death, taking in the
three bodies, one stabbed, one shot, and one both shot and
decapitated, the gunshot wound almost fully healed. "Wonder what the
police will make of this?" he thought to himself. Then, he turned,
and made his way out the front of the ally, heading towards his, no,
make that Her, car.
Finding Sue's car was not hard, he had seen the gray Geo Metro
following him many times, and at the same time remembered driving it
all those times. It was sort of confusing. But the important thing
was that he had the keys in Sue's purse, and that he get away before
someone showed up. With any luck the lateness of the night, the
ongoing rainstorm, and the fact that this was a business, and not a
residential district would keep this scene undiscovered until morning.
After starting the car and pulling it into the street, Eadgils paused
to try and think about where to go. He could see a few choices. He
could go to either his, or Sue's home. The police would soon be
arriving at his home however, as soon as his body was discovered.
They liked to do things like that. So that was not a good place to
stay. On the other hand, if there was anything he needed to
retrieve, now was likely his last opportunity. His Laptop for one,
along with the papers and money from the safe. That would be
enough. Everything else was either replaceable or insignificant as
far as immediate survival was concerned.
Pulling up on the block behind his house, he parked in the driveway.
No one knew it, aside from possibly the Watchers, but he actually
owned both the house he lived in, as well as this one. He had always
felt a need to protect his back, and this was an easy way to do it.
It also gave him a place to store things he might not want in his
actual home, but wanted to keep close at hand. When he had moved in
to the adjoining lots, he had replaced the large chain-link fence
with a shorter, wide-slat wooden fence. He also made sure one
particular pair of slats were hung only by a single nail at the top,
allowing them to be swung apart, and back together to form an
otherwise invisible "gate" between the two back yards.
Entering the back house using a key located under a grate in the
foundation, he proceeded into the den, uncovered and opened the safe,
and got a spare set of keys to his real house. Closing back the
safe, and sliding the filing cabinet back on top, he proceeded into
the kitchen, where he pulled out a pair of rubber dishwashing gloves,
and plucked a flat tipped screwdriver from a utility drawer.
He then headed out the back door, across the yard, through the slats,
leaving the opening 1/2 closed, in case he had to make a hasty
retreat, and entered his back door.
First things first, he turned on the perimeter alarm. Installed
years ago so he could sleep easier, it monitored the perimeter of
both the properties via a system of motion detectors, infrared light
beams, and roof mounted cameras which watched the street.
Next, he started making a pile by the rear door; first off was his
laptop, laptop case, and backup hard drive. He then pulled the USB
drives off his desktop, and added them to the pile after placing them
into a duffel bag.
He then went to his bedroom, and rolled the television stand out of
the corner. Pulling the pegged sections of the baseboards away from
the wall, he was able to fold back the corner of the carpet, exposing
the flat wooden cover over his floor safe, matched to the same wood
pattern of the rest of the floor. It was quick work to insert the
screwdriver and lift the cover, enter the digital combination, and
open the safe.
Rising, he went to the closet, and dug out a small black daypack, and
carried it back over to the safe.
>From the safe he extracted the deed for the back house and the titles
for his properties in California, Nevada, Washington, New York,
Florida, and Texas, all of which were in different false names, none
of which would be very usable given his new condition, but as it was
just a matter of signing the deed, he should be able to easily
transfer them to any new identities he may set up. He also withdrew
all the documentation for his other alternate identities, as well as
most of the cash, leaving a few hundred just so the safe wouldn't
look completely empty if it was somehow discovered. Closing up the
lid, he replaced the cover, folded back the carpet, and shoved the
baseboards back into the wall, before sliding the television back
into its customary spot. He looked at the gun box on the nightstand,
and shook his head - the weapon was legally registered to this
identity, it would be worse to have it than not in most
circumstances. Besides, he had more weapons stashed away in the back
house.
Grabbing the daypack, he headed back to the rear room, dropped the
backpack on top of the duffel bag holding the hard drives, and went
back to the Security Console where he had started his visit.
Checking to verify there still hadn't been any alarms he hadn't
heard, he proceeded to delete the entries for the rear house from the
front house's alarm system. Since all the devices in the whole
system used digital two way communications it wasn't hard to
deregister the devices not associated with this property. The
resulting security perimeter would have a suspicious hole right along
the back fence, but hopefully no one would notice and get
suspicious. It was as he was finishing this up that the front motion
detectors chirped. Looking at the camera display, he saw a police
car had stopped in front of the house.
His heart leaping in his chest in a manner he had not experienced
since he was a kid, but he put the sudden rush of fear aside, and
calmly finished his work on the alarm, and verifying both officers
were still in front of the house, just getting out of their car in
fact, backed to the door, gathered the laptop case, duffel bag of
hard drives, and the backpack of papers. Staining against the
unanticipated weight of the load, he glanced again at the display,
seeing one cop standing by the car, while the second was approaching
the door. He backed through the rear door and set down the duffel,
to close the door and lock it as quietly as possible. He then picked
back up the duffel, and made his way back to the rear fence, swinging
first the duffel, then the laptop case, and finally the backpack
through the hole in the fence.
A final glance over his shoulder, and he climbed through himself,
then as slowly and quietly as possible slid the board back closed.
Leaving the hard drives and laptop for the moment, he went back into
the rear house, and powered up it's Security Console, identical in
every way to the one in the front home, other than the fact that it
still had the devices for the rear house registered as well as the
front house.
As the display came on, it showed one officer at the front door,
while the second was beginning to look at the side gate. It would be
a challenge for anyone to climb it, so the odds were the officer
wouldn't even try.
The officer at the front was apparently ringing the bell.
Eadgils went ahead and remotely armed the alarm system.
Leaving the knapsack on the floor, he glanced again, verified the
second officer hadn't decided to try climbing the security gate, and
headed back out to pick up the laptop and hard drives from the ground
by the back fence.
Computer equipment retrieved, he shuttled it out to Sue's car in
three trips.
According to the Security Console, the police were standing over by
their car, one of them talking on the radio. Probably reporting the
lack of answer, and asking for instructions.
He then picked up his sword, and turned to the basement of the house,
where he kept his so called Armory. Unlocking the door at the top of
the basement stairs, he flipped on the lights, closing the door
behind himself.
He headed down the stairs, and looked at the array of weaponry
scattered along the walls. He had a selection of rifles, some
collapsible for camping, which could also be put to use for sniper
purposes if need be; a few shotguns, including one "Street Sweeper",
as well as several hunting types; and several handguns, both
revolvers and automatics. There was also a Tempest air pistol, a
Chinese made air rifle, along with both a full sized and a Trident
hand sized crossbows.
However, firearms were not his immediate need, instead he turned to
the back wall, and looked over the gleaming array of swords, knives,
and other "Cutlery" pegged to the wall. He had already figured just
from lifting it that his old sword, which he had carried for almost
800 years, would no longer work for him. He needed something much
shorter and lighter. As he had explained to his students over and
over through the centuries, a sword was not just a sharp piece of
metal one waved around - it needed to be a part of the wielder, so
much so that it was an extension of the arm, albeit a very sharp and
pointy one.
Most of the weapons on the wall were, well, trophies. Weapons
wielded by losers who had come for his head at one time or another.
One of them should be small and light enough for this body.
Starting with a rapier, he silently took down one sword after
another, and swung them through some moves. It was here he ran into
another problem. While this body was somewhat more flexible than his
had been, it was not properly conditioned for wielding a heavy
sword. Only a few swings, and there was a burn in the muscles.
Tendons were tweaked, and even the bones creaked. On the eleventh
sword however, he found a weapon he could wield. It was a katana,
taken from a short, slightly built Japanese Immortal almost one
hundred and fifty years before, when the man had come for his head in
the middle of the night.
Apparently, the man had spied on Eadgils for some time, and decided a
3 AM attack was his best chance. It was the headhunter's last
mistake. Even then, long before the days of electric eye beams and
motion detectors, Eadgils had had a preference for security systems.
Granted, more often than not, all they warned of were mice, but that
time it was a much larger rat.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
March 1865 AD, Paris France...
The tinkle of a bell woke him.
"Merde!" he murmured, rolling off the bed, and fishing his 650 year
old sword from beneath it while rolling to his feet in one smooth,
practiced move.
The pale moonlight coming in through the small window on the far side
of the room did not show much, but a quick sweep of his eyes verified
the bedroom was clear of unwanted guests.
Moving to the door, carefully not stepping around the several squeak-
boards he had in his floor, and stepping over the three bell-laden
trip threads, like the one which had woken him, he moved to a
position behind the bedroom door, but far out enough that the wooden
block on the floor would prevent its arc from hitting him were it
slammed open.
Leaning against the wall, he held his breath and forced his heartbeat
to almost stop, a trick he had trained himself in over a thousand
years before, while studying with the priests in what was now known
as India.
As total silence descended on him, he reached out with his ears, and
felt with his bare feet and the open hand pressed against the wall
for any slightest hint of - there. Someone was moving in the front
room. Each soft, careful tread was like a drumbeat to the
hypersensitive Immortal behind the door. Then, almost suddenly
enough to elicit a resumption of his normal heartbeat, the edge of a
Quickening brushed against his mind.
He believed from the strength of it that the other Immortal
approaching his room was relatively young, for the power was not
great, but it was enough to tell him the other had to be a Head
Hunter. As if his stealthy nocturnal visit wouldn't have provided
that identification in any case.
Still, he kept his body as still as possible, leaning against the
wall, not breathing, and his heart more still than active, beating
only often enough to maintain consciousness in the Immortals
perfectly focused mind.
The approaching Headhunter chose a squeaky board to step on, and
froze for a few moments to see if he had given himself away. Still
not hearing anyone stirring in the bedroom, he moved on.
Eadgils felt him approach the door, moving much more cautiously now.
The latch opened, and the hinges of the door squeaked as the
Headhunter attempted to stealthily open it.
Giving up all attempts at stealth as the "Skreee" sound rang out in
the stillness of the house, the intruder shoved with all his might on
the door and leapt through the threshold hollering "Keiah!"
As the door slammed against the wooden block and rebounded, Eadgils
released his trance, took a deep breath, allowed the adrenalin to
flood his system, and pushed the door back the way it had come.
The door slammed back, catching the Headhunter between it and the
frame, before groaning back towards the wall.
Eadgils stepped boldly around the door, and placed his sword against
the throat of the small man he found standing dazedly in the doorway
with a look of pain on his face.
In the near darkness Eadgils finally spoke in French. "Je suis
Eadgils, durer le haut-parleur de la tribu de Flornlef. Qui vous
est, et pourquoi vous avoir choisi cette nuit et ma maison pour
mourir pour le temps? (I am Eadgils, last speaker of the Flornlef
tribe. Who are you, and why have you chosen this night and my house
to die for the final time?)"
The slight man took a stabilizing breath, recovering from the total
shock of his plan failing so utterly, and stepped back, away from the
sword at his neck, and into the larger room behind him. His step
disturbed another of the pesky bell-laden threads, and also was
accompanied by a squeak from the floor.
Softly he said in badly accented French saying essentially, "I am
Toshio Matsumura. I am a warrior of honor, and I have come to take
your head."
Eadgils replied "Honor enough to come into my house like a thief in
the night. Perhaps even honor enough to die on your feet. At least
you have enough honor not to run screaming from here like a woman.
But I fear you have not enough honor to leave here with your head on
your shoulders in any case. But let us see who has how much honor."
Toshio took another step back, and pulled a gleaming katana from his
scabbard, took up a ready position, and called "Hi!"
With a single stride, Eadgils followed him into the room, and took
the first swing, a diagonal slice from his top right towards his
bottom left, and blocked easily by Toshio's blade.
As they continued trading blows, Eadgils grew a grudging respect for
Toshio's style. Unlike most of the opponents he had faced in his
3,600 years, Toshio was graceful and polished, each move flowing
seamlessly into the next, speaking of many hours of drilling and
practicing moves over and over until they came without thought.
But, as Eadgils reflected to himself, the problem with fighting
without thought was that you always did the same thing when your
opponent moved in a certain way. The key to defeating such a
practiced swordsman was to learn his moves, chose one, trigger it,
and then defeat it. So it was that he spun and thrust, eliciting the
same swinging block from Toshio as the last several times he used
that move, and as Toshio's blade moved down, Eadgils pulled his back,
then lunged forward with his whole body as Toshio's blade passed his
by, and thus impaled Toshio on the tip of his sword. A quick
withdrawal and he watched as Toshio dropped his blade, and fell to
his knees.
"A good, and honorable fight, Toshio," he said, "despite its
dishonorable beginning. And now you die."
With that, Eadgils brought his blade around in a move practiced
hundreds of times over the past several thousand years, and removed
Toshio's head from his body.
As the head bounced on the ground and rolled to his left, the torso
fell on its back, and the quickening began to leak into the
surrounding environs. Eadgils looked about his living room and
muttered "Damn. I liked this place."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Picking up his own sword, he found a place on the wall, and added it
to the "Collection", using the same pins as Toshio's Katana had been
hung on.
He added a pair of special carbon-fiber knives, one of them a large
Bowie the other one a smaller Stiletto, which while visible on X-Ray
would not set off any metal detectors thus making them good backup
weapons in these days of places where they frown on such things as
people carrying swords or other weapons.
Thusly armed, he retreated up the stairs, and back towards the car.
A quick stop at the Security Console told him the police were sitting
in the car, probably waiting for either backup to help them access
the house or stake it out and wait for someone to show, or morning to
come so they could canvas the neighbors. He didn't know which, but
with three dead bodies, and only his ID as a clue of where to begin,
he would bet on the former rather than the later.
Of course, there was the question of evidence left at the scene by
Sue. He couldn't think of anything, other than blood which had been
left behind, but that didn't mean it wasn't there. He had Sue's
purse and the gun used to shoot the Hunter, but there was always
evidence of some sort which was overlooked at the scene of any crime
even by the investigators.
In any case, it was time to get out of town. Making a detour to the
bedroom, he dug up an old jacket, and carried it along with the
weapons out to the car, turning off the security system and locking
the door, replacing the emergency key, on his way out.
========================== ==========================
To be continued in Chapter 3 - Reflection on Reflections.