Date: Thu, 6 Oct 1994 09:41:53 EDT Reply-To: Highlander TV show stories Sender: Highlander TV show stories From: Brian Macleod Subject: Behind Blue Eyes (Descendants to the Prize 2), part 1 This is the second installment (or first, depending on one's pov) of the story which began in Descendants to the Prize... ************************************************************************* *************************H I G H L A N D E R***************************** *****************B E H I N D B L U E E Y E S********************* ************************************************************************* BY BRIAN PROCOPIO, BASED ON THE FILM OF THE SAME NAME. COPYRIGHT 1994 CHAOS PICTURES, INC. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ------------------------------------------------------------------------- Part One ============== The sounds of Queen's "One Vision" blasted forth from the stereo system, reverberating off of the walls in the small basement. David Macleod laid back on the bench, taking a deep breath and exhaling as he pressed the weights forward once more. His muscles stretched with the exertion, beads of sweat breaking out along the cut ridges of his arms. He began his slow count of repititions once more, the toil a welcome exchange for the depressing thoughts that were running through his head as of late. Just two short months before he had fought his first battle against another immortal, during which he learned of his mentor's death at the hands of his opponent. As it was, David barely escaped with his life, winning the battle by the narrowest of margins, cheating death for the second time in half a year. Since then, he devoted all of his time and energy into his training. Alter- nating his days between martial arts training and weight training, he pushed his body to its limits and beyond. With every day he continued his sword training as well, practicing and honing the skills Brian MacKenzie taught him in the weeks before his death. His weight training finished, David walked over to the far wall, gazing at his sword as he toweled the sweat from his face. It was a beautiful piece of art, his katana, as well as being a deadly weapon... <<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<< "No, I mean it. Keep it, it's yours now, Macleod," MacKenzie spoke sincerely as he handed the bladed weapon to Macleod. "I can't take this, Bri, I mean, I have some money and all, I can get my own," replied Dave. "No you can't," he stated grimly, "not one of this quality. This sword is almost three hundred years old. It served me well for a century, and it did the same for your kinsman Connor before that. This wasn't his best sword, but still a piece of the finest quality. He gave it to me when I began my training, and now I'm giving it to you." "For what it's worth, thanks," Macleod said. He grinned, " You know, though, I've always wanted one of these!" "Yes, they are quite nice, aren't they? Yours will serve you especially well. It's a neutral grip handle, meaning it can be used by either a right or left handed person. Most swords have a leaning towards right-handedness, which makes it slightly awkward for a lefty like yourself to use it. This counters that problem, though." David pulled the sheath away from the blade, it's polished surface relecting the overhead lights... >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> ...and inspected the blade. MacKenzie was definately right, it was a fine quality weapon. It weathered the onslaught of fighting Marak with only a few nicks and scrapes to show for it. So unlike himself, though. Every now and then the memories would flow once more, the voices of Marak and his dead vic- tims would speak to him at night. It seemed to David that every time he re- gained meaning in life, someone would show up and kill off a friend. He replaced the sword on its stand, the 'click' of the tape stopping snapping him out of his past. He flicked the eject button and removed the cassette, about to replace it in its case. The sound of the dropped tape echoed off the stone walls of the room, but Macleod did not hear it, his head pounding with the 'buzz.' An immortal was close, very close. He heard a knocking at his door as he grabbed his sword from the wall rack yet again. "Let's hope the training pays off," he thought as he ran up the steps... ------------------------------------------------------------------------------- =========================================================================