Date: Thu, 23 Feb 1995 10:06:02 EST Reply-To: "If 'Love is for poets,' then let me be poetic..." Sender: Highlander TV show stories Comments: Resent-From: "If 'Love is for poets,' then let me be poetic..." Comments: Originally-From: "If 'Love is for poets,' then let me be poetic..." From: "If 'Love is for poets,' then let me be poetic..." Subject: Better Off Beheaded, a parody with very little fanfare, Kaos pictures now presents a rather sick and twisted crossover.... Better Off Beheaded (a Highlander/Better Off Dead crossover) written by and thought of by Brian Procopio, god help his soul... This takes place somewhere in the third season I think... _______________________________________________________________________________ [author's note: this work is the result of the realization that Amanda Wyss, who plays Randi the reporter in the first few seasons of HL, is the same actress who played Beth the girlfriend in Better Off Dead. You have been warned.....] _______________________________________________________________________________ A small California town, 1992.... Lain eased up on the gas pedal of his Mustang, it's throaty roar downshifting into a quiet rumble. His fingers flexed upon the grip of the steering wheel as he idled to a stop at the red light. "Nice day, hmm?" he commented casually to his fiancee Monique next to him. "Mmmhmmm," she murmured back as she adjusted the brim of her Dodgers cap. Suddenly, Lain's body went rigid as he glanced over at the automobile pulling up next to him. Not now, he thought... "Lain Myers, the kid from Greenville," the Asian in the next car began, his voice a dead ringer for Howard Cosell's. As he continued his pre-race monologue, Lain struggled into his gear, slapping his protective woodshop goggles over his eyes as Monique helped him into his rubber kitchen gloves with a snap. The light turned green all of a sudden, and the opponent's car lept from it's stationary position. "DAMM!" barked Lain, his black hair whipping in the wind. "Hold on, Monique!" he ordered as he slammed down upon the accelorator. Monique twisted about in her seat, the G-forces pressing her firmly into the plush vinyl of the seats. "Lain!!," she cried in her heavy French accent. "I'm not belted in!!!" Franticly, Lain glanced over at Monique, reaching across her body with one arm, trying to find the seat belt. He divided his attention almost equally between the road, his challenger's car, and Monique's dilemma. Suddenly, a tearing noise erupted from underneath the hood. Lain heard a piece of metal clink to the roadway beneath them, and saw, out of the corner of his eye, Monique go pale. "uh-oh," she commented, her voice quivering. "UH-OH??? WHAT DO YOU MEAN 'UH-OH', Monique!!!!????!!!!" Lain responded. "Remember that part I didn't know how to put back onto the car when we fixed it up?" Monique cried out as the tears started running down her full cheeks. "uh-oh," stated Myers bluntly, tossing the overhang of black hair out of his eyes with a swish of his head, both hands now fully on the wheel. "LAIN!" Monique screamed as he narrowly avoided an oncoming Mac truck. "No, go *that* way, really fast, if something gets in your way, *turn*!!!" "That's the best you can do???" Lain questioned, his eyes wide with fear and adrenaline. Lain blew past the pair of Asian drivers, catching the attention of the police officer who had pulled them over. He swerved onto a side street, away from the rush hour traffic beginning to pile up on the expressway. A sudden flash of motion caught his eye up ahead. It looked like a small bird diving down towards him, straight on. Within seconds, however, Lain began shouting obscenities even before his mind pieced the whole scene together... _______________________________________________________________________________ Captain Badger Myers adjusted the flaps on his space shuttle, the control yoke having been borrowed from his mother's vacuum cleaner. He brought the snub nose of the craft around, lining it up along the deserted side street. He flipped a switch, and the wheels of the tiny ship lowered themselves down, borrowed from his old red ryder wagon. With the extra drag, the shuttle dipped downwards at an increased rate. Suddenly, a car turned onto the road, a late-model glistening black Mustang. Badger franticly turned his attention to the maps, seeking out an alternate landing strip, to no avail. Without a means to produce thrust, the shuttle had one chance to land. For Badger Myers, that chance was now gone.... _______________________________________________________________________________ Lain and Monique screamed as one as the space shuttle dived for them at over a hundred miles an hour. The collision all but obliverated the two vehicles, blowing out the garage windows on houses for miles.... _______________________________________________________________________________ _______________________________________________________________________________ One week later, the Myers' household.... Lain entered the quiet and somber house, parents in tow. "It's still strange, son, don't you think, that you survived that crash?" his dad asked him. "Oh now, dear, the investigators said the force of the crash threw Lain dear out of the car and away from the explosion," Mrs. Myers lectured, the antlers of her snowsuit bobbing up and down in affirmation. "But *honey*, what I'm trying to say is that it's just plain *strange*!! No scratches even! I don't even know why that Doctor Anne at the hospital insisted on keeping him this long!" the father argued, the sun from the window bouncing off of his nearly bald head, throwing reflections around the room. Suddenly, Lain let out a yelp of pain as he doubled over, hands to his head. "HONEY!" his mother shrieked, running over to comfort him. "What is it, Lain, what do you need? I can heat up a Swanson dinner if you like, I have the roast veal, it's your favor---" Mrs.Myers was interrupted by a resounding crash as the front door caved in. The smoke cleared to reveal Ricky, their neighbor's boy, standing in the doorway, claymore in hand. "Ha! You're one of us now, Myers, now your head is MINE!" he bellowed as he charged towards the prone teen, his corpulent arms bringing the mighty blade about for a killing strike. Lain ducked and rolled out of the way, and the edge bit the antlers clean from Mrs. Myers' head. She screamed, grabbing her husband as she ran into the kitchen. Lain took advantage of the dis- traction, charging into Ricky's stomach. The larger duelist flexed his hidden, but powerful, gut muscles, tossing Lain helplessly back from him. He thrust the blade at Myers' throat, embedding it deeply in the Myers' plush green couch. "You blew up my mother, Myers! Now you'll join your little French tart in Hell!!!" he yelled angrily as he fought to free his weapon. Lain darted up the steps to the second floor as the bohemoth trundled up after him. A barely remembered thought, a quick perception, gave him hope, and he barrelled into Badger's dimly lit room, quickly scanning the walls as he slammed to door shut behind him. *THERE* He reached for the katana which Badger had recieved by sending away twelve thousand boxtops from Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles cereal, it's finely-crafted hilt resting perfectly in his palm. He slipped behind the door miliseconds before Ricky crashed in. "C'mon, Myers, we're not fighting with ski poles anymore!!!" he hissed as he cautiously stepped into the room. Without questioning his tactics or means, Lain swung his sword around, cleaving Ricky's plump head from his body. It fell to the floor with a shudder, and the air went deathly still for a moment. Without warning, a bolt of lightning flashed forth from Ricky's form, wrapping itself around Lain. Pain lanced through him as he watched the energy storm create a path of distruction, shattering the bowl of Sea Monkeys Badger had lovingly nurtured, hitting the power cell of Badger's favorite energy cannon, sending an explosion throughout the room, igniting Badger's worn copy of _How to Pick Up Trashy Women_.... _______________________________________________________________________________ PART TWO: THE OBSESSION _______________________________________________________________________________ Seacouver, 1994... Randi quickly applied her makeup to her face, hiding the solitary wrinkle that nature had given her for her birthday this year. "Another year, another life," she whispered softly to herself. It seemed that she had run for so long, ever since being publicly humiliated in Greeville those few short years ago, turned down by Lain Myers, who had just won the Ski Captain title from her then boyfriend, for that French brat Monique. "Randi, we're on in two!," her partner and cameraman Jim commented to her as he passed by. She nodded in return and glanced in his direction. She stopped cold as she caught sight of someone off in the distance, a lone man in a light tan trenchcoat from her past. Although it had been almost five years, she still could not escape the memory of Lain Myers.... _______________________________________________________________________________ Lain walked slowly towards the stationary blonde, admiring the differences that the years had granted her. A slightly more sculptured face, likely the work of a plastic surgeon, the longer, more flowing hair... He stopped, savoring the moment of their reunion. He had looked forward to this space in time for months now, tracking Beth (Randi now, he corrected himself with a grin) down through three states and as many identities. For a time he began to believe she was like him, immortal, but she obviously was not. He walked toward her where she stood, acting coy and shy all of a sudden... _______________________________________________________________________________ Damn, thought Randi, he's seen me. Shit shit shit I made eye contact with him, I'm in for it now. She glanced around desperately, looking for someone to save her from Lain. She had been so sucessful running from him, now he was probably back to gloat. A dark ponytail caught her eye hovering near the edge of the crowd, and she quickly darted toward the handsome hunk of a man attached. As she drew closer she realized that no one else wore a three-quarter trench in Seacouver, it had to be Macleod. God, she still wanted him. She had tried for so long to lure him away from that plastic Barbie-with-an-accent French tart (that's two you lost to French women, her subconcious reminded her), and then she finally bought it. Then, when she had the chance, it ended up being a drunk one-night stand with the heavenly Scot that she barely remembered. ([AUTHOR'S NOTE: recall the discussion we had about the one episode that, in the European cut, had randi sleep with Duncan....]) Now he was off bopping that doctor wench from California. Ah well, she decided, she had heard the two of them were having some rough times, maybe this was her break. Anything was better than Lain Myers at this point... _______________________________________________________________________________ Lain increased his pace to keep up with the nearly-jogging blonde. Suddenly, his head ached with the sensation of the Quickening, and he realized that the man in the black leather jacket that Beth was running towards was an immortal as well. Damn, he thought, not NOW! He slowed slightly as Bet--Randi lept at the other immortal, wrapping her arms around him and kissing him passionately. He barely fought down the urge to pull his katana out and attack him now as he marched up on them... _______________________________________________________________________________ "Wha-- Randi, what a surprise..." commented Duncan as he pushed her away, his eyes scanning the crowd expectantly, seeking out the nearby immortal but, more importantly, trying to make sure Anne hadn't seen that little exchange. "Um, hi Duncan," Randi blushed sheepishly. She tossed back her long hair with a flourish. Suddenly a hand grabbed her arm forcefully, yanking her away from Duncan's arms. "Beth!!" announced the newcomer. "It's me, Lain, I... I... came back for you!" Duncan wrapped his fist around the younger immortal's wrist. "Who are you, *Lain* and why are you here?" he interrogated strongly. "I'm here for Beth, right Beth?" Lain pleaded as he squrimed in Duncan's grasp. "He's sick, Duncan, help me!! I had to run from him before, he's obsessed!" Randi pleaded as she manuevered behind the dark-haired Italian-looking Scot, using the opportunity to slip her hand into his back pocket suggestively, promising rewards for his assisstance. "Randi, leave," Duncan commanded as he strode towards a small path in the park that led to a convieniently-located clearing where a sword battle wouldn't be overheard by the mortals a few yards away. Lain followed him, reaching under his coat for his weapon. Randi reached underneath her sportcoat to pull out her celluar phone, the small tatoo on her left wrist slipping out from her cuff in the motion. She dialed a number in, waiting for a reply. "Joe, it's Randi, re-- wha? Yes, I remember the night you made me a *real* Watcher, yes... ok, uh-huh... like, Duncan and my ex-boyfriend are fighting here... ok, bye." With that, she hung up, slipping into the shadows to lurk... _______________________________________________________________________________ Lain ripped out a battle-cry that sounded more like a strangled chicken's last gasp than a fear-inspiring shout, and charged his opponent from behind. Duncan grabbed his katana from a short little Italian guy hiding in the bushes with it and swung, catching Lain's attack on his crosspiece. He whipped his grip around, weaving a curtain of steel in between the two combatants. Lain backstepped a foot, then lunged in, jabbing Duncan with the point of his blade in the arm. "HA!" Lain cheered as a small blot of blood grew on Duncan's left shoulder. In his lapse, Duncan drove his edge in, running a solid slice down Lain's chest. The blade opened a deep gash along Lain's torso, blood spilling out along his tan trenchcoat. "ha," Duncan bit off sarcasticly. Lain looked pleadingly heavenward, wishing once more that this was the movie in which he was training to be a professional kickboxer instead of the one where he just skiied. Duncan's roar froze Myers in his tracks, the point of the katana driving straight for Lain's chest again, preparing to impale him. Memories and instincts took over, and Lain, whipped his sword up, forcing it into Duncan's weapon and spinning, throwing Duncan, swordless, into a thorn bush and on top of Randi. Grinning evily, he prepared to advance and deliver the killing blow when he sensed another immortal approach. "TWO DOLLARS!!!!!!" screamed the biker as he tore through the underbrush, hitting a hidden ramp, causing his bicycle to fly through the air on a direct course for Lain. A short sword swung out from the child's back, whipping towards Lain's neck. Myers backpedaled, stumbling over a Pepsi can that an errant best grip named Brian Procopio who, caught up in the excitement of fulffilling his life's dream of working on the Highlander TV show, left there by accident, and falling to the ground, saving his neck. The paper boy spun around for another pass, lining up his target. All of a sudden Duncan cried out, "KENNY!?!?!?!" The paper boy skidded to a halt, his eyes growing wide in shock. "Duncan? No, I'm here for Myers... Damn!" the 800-year old immortal trapped in the body of a twelve-year old scrambled from the bike and raced into the forest on foot. Duncan started after him, only to be stopped by Lain. "No... this one's mine," he glared after Kenny. "Ever since he showed up to collect that paper money he's been after me, shouting 'TWO DOLLARS' every chance he could..." "Wait," Duncan commanded firmly. "There's something you should know, Myers. I had Dawson check him out. He's over eight-hundred, and he's the last survivor of a strange Nordic warrior. Their battle cry was "TOOHALLAS", which roughly translates to 'kill the infidel bastards and rape their women,' or something to that effect. Kenny had a speech impediment, so all this time he wasn't asking you for money...." Lain paused in deep contemplation for a moment, then his resolve hardened once more as he chased after the strange Nordic paper boy. "He's dead either way, Duncan!" he hollered behind him. _______________________________________________________________________________ Kenny paused, listening to the sound of pursiut following him. He tried to catch his breath, his eyes scanning the area surrounding him for help. He scambled up into an overhanging tree and readied himself. He only had one chance for his plan to work. Myers came trotting down the path, Katana in hand, the wound to his chest nearly healing. He halted, trying to sense which way the young immortal had gone. With a feeling of sudden dread he looked in the one remaining direction, up. Screaming, "THERE CAN BE ONLY ONE!!!!" Kenny threw himself from the tree, his sword cleaving Myers in two. As the wind picked up dramaticly, along with nice lightning effects that the special effects artists would add in later, Kenny bit back on the urge to start singing the song "Little People" from Les Miserables, but the temptation was just too great... _______________________________________________________________________________ "...and little people know, we may look easy pickings but we've got some bite!" the singing poured melodiously from the clearing up ahead. "Mac?" Ritchie called out as he neared the area. He had been wandering about for nearly an hour, still not knowing what he was supposed to be doing in this episode. He wanted a spin-off show of his own, he really did... Suddenly, he stopped, sensing another immortal. He pulled his sword from mid-air, always a neat trick to impress the females, well, those few who stopped drooling over Mac long enough to notice him, and advanced into view of the site. Standing there, prancing about, was the brat himself, Kenny, just finishing up a musical number. "You..." Ritchie sneered. He swung his blade for the youngster's head, knocking the child's sword from his arms with the force of the blow. "YOU!" He grabbed Kenny's lapels and threw him against the nearby tree, knocking the breath from the youngster's lungs. "No, Ritchie, please, I'm just a little boy!!!" the immortal whined. "I should have done this a long time ago!" barked Ritchie as he pummelled the blonde boy once more with the hilt of his sword. "THERE CAN BE ONLY ONE!!!!!" he bellowed as he brought his blade down on the child's neck, separating it from his twelve-year old body. The energy of eight-hundred years poured out and into Ritchie. It was almost better than sex, he decided, but then realized he didn't know what that felt like anyway... _______________________________________________________________________________ _______________________________________________________________________________ THE END. I gotta lay off the JOLT, don't I.... Brian Macleod MacKenzie Procopio =========================================================================