Date: Wed, 12 Apr 1995 11:20:45 -600 Reply-To: Scarcrest Sender: Highlander TV show stories From: Scarcrest Subject: ("In The End..." Pt.2) Ch.5 X-cc: Orrey Buttram , Haydee Viardo , Jonathan Haupt , Pat Stubblefield , Todd Yates , Brandy Lumpkins , Sarah Smith , Allen Monette , Elizabeth Donald , Marcus Mansfield ****************************************************************************** " I N T H E E N D . . . " ****************************************************************************** A Highlander/Batman Tale of the Future Jason R. Tippitt, 1994-95 http://www.utm.edu/~jtippitt/j.html Warning: Violence and Profanities Comments, suggestions, questions, back-chapter requests to JTippitt@Utm.Edu (Flames discarded and considered beneath comment/contempt) Book 2: "Gothic" Chapter 5 ******* Jason and Michelle Sensed the presence of another Immortal when they got within a block of the building. There was nothing to do but try their luck; he needed the costume. If worst came to worst, the two of them working together could probably knock any would-be assailant off the balcony. Besides, there wasn't really any room to turn the car around in the tunnel. They pulled in and left the car running. Jason locked the doors with his remote control, and they ran for the elevator, their swords at the ready. "Who do you think it is?" Michelle asked, voice shaking a little. "Dunno. I'm sure it wouldn't be Vic or Richard...Vic's meeting us tonight, and Richard would probably be with him, unless something's happened I don't know about." He looked at his watch. "Man, it's 11:30 already; Vic's gonna be pissed if we're late. He's as impatient as he is nosy." Michelle laughed. It was a very nervous laugh, bordering on a squeak. "Nosy? With an alter ego called 'The Question?' You must be joking!" Suddenly, about halfway to their destination, they felt the power of an unleashed Quickening. The elevator came to a jarring halt. Michelle grabbed Jason tightly. "Shit, someone just got whacked." He ground his teeth together. "This isn't good. Looks like time to move again...just when I was starting to get used to the Big Apple, too." *That's it, Jason--make jokes to cover up your fear. You're starting to act like the damned Boy Wonder again.* Jason took his sword and pushed open the trap door above them. "Well, the electrical systems are gone. Better start climbing." He grabbed one side of the hole and pulled himself up, then reached down to help Michelle up. The two of them climbed the ladder in the side of the shaft until they reached the doors for the next floor. Using his hands, Jason pulled until the doors slid open. They stepped out into the hallway, swords hidden for the moment under their clothes. The air outside the building was flashing. "One damn big Quickening," Michelle murmured. They ran up the stairs to the lower portion of the roof, ten feet below the bottom part of the penthouse section. From there it was a simple climb to the terrace. The alarm system was fried from the energy. Twenty feet away, they saw the victor of the battle: a tall man, almost seven feet tall, built like a tank, with a mask covering his entire face. IV tubes ran into his arms from tanks attached to the belt around his waist. "Bane," Jason whispered. "Who?" "The guy who broke Bruce's back twenty-odd years ago. I was buried alive at the time, so I never faced him. He's gonna be trouble." They crept closer. Who could he have killed for such a large Quickening? This was unheard of. They closed in to ten feet, and he saw the head and body. It was Richard Dragon. Jason unsheathed his sword and charged the monstrous Immortal, screaming, his coat whipping in the wind and rain behind him. Bane spun at the last moment and managed to plant a kick in Jason's stomach. "You fool. How dare you disturb the Quickening?" Another energy wave hit Bane, causing his arm to twitch. "You killed my friend at my house, you bastard. How dare *you?*" Jason swung again at Bane, who pulled up his gigantic battle axe to block the swing. Sparks flew as metal scraped against metal. ******* Somewhere in the depths of a tall stone tower in Salem, Massachusets, something stirred a sleeping figure. The man was tall, with ribs poking against his sides. His hair was long and grey. "The Gathering..." he said, rising from his sofa. "The hour is getting late, old friend." Kent Nelson, who had for over forty years held back the powers of Chaos as the mystic Dr. Fate, turned to look at his visitor. "The Phantom Stranger. Figures. Are Corrigan and Constantine and Zatanna and E behind you, or did you come alone?" Underneath his wide black hat, he smiled. Just a flash of grey hair and his nose and mouth showed; never the eyes. Those were always hidden. "It is just me. I thought this game merited watching, and I could think of no one better with whom to observe." "Well, I'm flattered you'd think of an old spook like me." Kent poured out two glasses of abisinthe as the strongest thunderstorm to hit the New England States in American history raged on. ******* Carl's opponent aimed a sharp kick at his groin, causing him to drop his sword. The wet concrete beneath him tripped him up, and he was suddenly down on his back, looking up the steps at Maximilian Volenta preparing the killing blow. "There can be only one, Robinson," he spoke in his thick Mediterranean accent. A flash of light from inside the monument, then a shot rang out through the night. Volenta fell "dead," landing on Carl, his sword falling to the side. Carl felt his control over his bladder slip away--didn't matter much, the rain already had him soaked. He looked toward the building, scanning for his rescuer as he slowly rose. "It's alright, Senator." He cringed at the voice as Connor MacLeod walked out from the shade of the building. Only it couldn't be MacLeod--he didn't Sense him. "Let's just get you to safety." "In a minute, MacLeod--or whoever you are." He looked back into the shadows of the building and saw a red-clad figure with a silver mask climbing down from Lincoln's lap. There was a red sniper's scope attached to the mask, covering his right eye. Deadshot was his name, if Carl recalled correctly; last seen working covert ops as part of Task Force X. Or "The Suicide Squad," as some of the more sensationalist people called it. Carl looked at "Connor" and motioned him to step back, as he raised his sword over his fallen assailant. He hated to kill an opponent like this, but the man *had* killed Benny, who was basically helpless in fights. "Payback, Volenta." He brought the sword down and stepped back. Newspapers in the streets were drawn up into a vortex of wind and then ignited as the Quickening began to pour into Carl. He imagined this was what the talk of hellfire and brimstone raining down from the heavens in the last days would be like. Manhole covers erupted from the streets for three blocks around, killing at least six innocent people. A couple luckless enough to be passing by, out long after the city's 10:00 p.m. curfew, only had enough time to see what was happening, but not to scream, as their car burst into flames. Lightning struck the pool near the Washington Monument, vaporizing most of its water. Even Carl's clothing began to smoke at the edges, as the most powerful Quickening he had ever taken rushed into his body. [Methos. The bastard killed Methos right before he got Benny. Had him poisoned, then attacked him in a concert hall and cut off his head with a violin wire...good God, the strength he must have had...some sorta mutant or something...] Underground, a subway train jumped its tracks and exploded as it landed, killing 200 people. And the rain began to come down even more fiercely. The last of the energies flowed into Carl's body as he collapsed to the pavement, wasted. The Connor impersonator and Deadshot crept out from cover; they had hidden behind the pillars of the monument. "Good God, man, what *was* that?" Deadshot asked. "Ask MacLeod," Carl said, rising and picking up his sword. "He could tell you...if he *was* MacLeod." The man who wasn't MacLeod pushed down on what appeared to be his tietack. A mist sprayed up onto his "face," which began to melt away, showing a middle-aged man with blonde hair underneath. "The name's Nemesis. Senator Grayson sent us to investigate an...incident...like this from about an hour ago." "Oh, did he?" Carl's bravado was a farce; he was scared shitless at the thought of Dick knowing he was an Immortal, but he knew there was no way out of it except to kill these two. "Let's go talk to him, why don't we?" ******* To be continued... =========================================================================