Date: Fri, 3 Mar 1995 10:58:16 -600 Reply-To: Jason Tippitt Sender: Highlander TV show stories From: Jason Tippitt Subject: "In the End..." (HL/Batman) Interlude 1 (fwd) This chapter is dedicated to The Jonathan, who coincidentally thought of something like the Connor/Duncan scene here and suggested it to me the day after I decided to do the same thing. Freaky... JRT ************************************************************************ "I N T H E E N D . . . " ************************************************************************ A Highlander/Batman Crossover Jason R. Tippitt, 1994-95 Note: This occurs in a future somewhat similar to that portrayed in the graphic novel _The Dark Knight Returns_, by Frank Miller. There are some differences--Jason Todd , the Joker, and the Catwoman's being Immortals having been the most notable one so far. Caveat: Not the kindest, gentlest story ever written. Cursing, too. Interlude 1 ******* Gregor poured another shot of Glenmarengie for himself and downed it. Connor and Duncan had donned clothing of their homeland, both of them quite thoroughly polluted after three hours' hard drinking. "D'you remember that time on the Boston Commons?" Duncan slurred. "'I apologize for callin' yer wife a bloated warthog,'" Connor laughed. Gregor shook his head. The room was starting to get a bit shaky. "Um, I think I better stop here, guys," he said. He felt as though the words were echoing around in his skull. "Think I'll be goin' ta bed now." "You remember where it is?" Connor asked. "Yep." Gregor turned and stumbled. Wavering, leaning against the wall, he made his way out of the room, heedless to the amusement he was giving the Highlanders. ******* Lazarus awoke with a start. He'd fallen asleep with his head on a Bible and was firmly convinced he had received a vision in his sleep. "Fallen angels," he murmured. "Fallen angels!" He leapt up and went looking for Connor. ******* Amanda stepped out of the shower and pulled a towel around her body. She looked disdainfully at the small bed Connor had given her. "Guess he's trying to drive the wedge deeper," she whispered to herself. "'I didn't know to set up any dual accomadations,' my ass." She walked over to the bed and collapsed onto it, lying on her back. She closed her eyes and thought over the day. They'd left the building in the ambulance--Connor murmuring something about the Hunters getting more and more brazen, and the attack on the building being one more step. A war afoot. She and Gregor had looked at one another, distrust bright in both sets of eyes. If a man could fly...there'd once been heroes, brightly-clad men and women with powers beyond those of mortals and Immortals alike, and Superman could've done all that damage within seconds, if he were so inclined. And Connor *did* let slip that he was with the CIA now... "Central Malevolence Agency," Richie had cracked. Richie. Yeah. That was the other thing. The last time she'd seen Richie-- The Buzz struck just as she was beginning to get drowsy. She sat up, pulled the towel tighter around herself, and, hoping her voice wasn't trembling, said, "Come in." Richie opened the door and stepped inside. He shut it behind himself. "Amanda." Leaning a little closer to her sword, "Richie...how've you been?" "Scraping out a living, thanks. And you?" "Well, Duncan and I are living together--" Something went wild in his eyes for a moment, then they returned to normal. "I seem to recall that, yes." "I never meant for things to happen the way they did, Richie." "Well, it all worked out best for me in the end, Amanda. Things just have a way of working out." He laid a hand upon the hilt of his sword. Amanda grabbed her weapon. "I think you ought to leave now, Richie." "Fagin. If we're going to be partners in crime for the little time we have left, we should know each other without the masks, don't you think?" "What're you talking about?" He took his hand off the sword. "Richie's gone, Amanda. I have supplanted him. My name is Fagin, and I'm the one you'll be dealing with. I think you've met me before..." "So you're the reason he was embezzling Duncan's money, eh?" Fagin bowed. "You remember! I'm so honored. Mako's loving this, that's for sure." "Who?" "Never mind, a tale for another time. If there is such a thing. I bid you adieu, little tiger." With an iron grip, he snatched her free hand and kissed it. Then he backed up to the door and, bowing again, made his way out. Amanda didn't let go of the sword for a minute or two more. ******* Connor and Duncan were singing "Auld Lang Syne" when Lazarus burst into the room. "Connor, I've received a vision!" The MacLeods looked at one another and laughed. "Drink enough o' this, an' ye'll have plenny o' visions, laughin' man," Connor said a moment later. "Laughin' man? He dinna look too jolly, Connor," Duncan said. "Y'know, sir, ye look a bit familiar, but I canna remember from where." The tall, thin Immortal looked at Duncan. "I recall nothing, I'm afraid. But this vision--" Connor laid a hand on Lazarus' shoulder. "Tell us of it, then. Would you like a drink?" "None for me, thanks, I abstain." Connor, nodding, poured another round for himself, spilling a great deal of it on the table. "Ah, yes, keepin' yerself pure an' all that. Kinsman?" Duncan smiled foolishly. "Why not? Live life to the fullest, I always say. An' with such good friends..." He attempted to slap Lazarus on the back, but missed. He looked at his hand for a moment in disbelief, the confusion put aside only when Connor handed him his drink. "We are angels, MacLeod." "What the bloody hell are you talkin' about?" Duncan asked. "My vision--the angels that fell from heaven--well, they're us. That's the prize...the winner gets to go back. Take the whole host home, if he wishes." "What about Darius?" Duncan seemed alarmed. "He was murdered in 'is church by mortals, wi' no one there to take 'is Quick'ning. Don't tell me he's damned to 'ell by this..." "I don't know what happens in those cases, I'm afraid." Connor laughed. "Well, sounds like ye woke up a bit too early, then, don't it?" "Reborn, perhaps..." Lazarus stroked his chin. "It's the truth, MacLeod, I'm sure of it." "Piss on the truth," Connor said. He turned his steely eyes on Lazarus and his kinsman. "The truth is what we make of it. We could rule these peasants..." "Ye're soundin' like the Kurgan or one o' their like," Duncan slowly said, his hand going to the hilt of his sword. "I'm not sayin' we should, just that we could if we liked," Connor answered. "Stay yer hand, Duncan, hae ye forgotten all rules of hospitality?" Duncan's hand rested. "I jus' dinnae like where that seemed to be goin', Connor. My apologies." ******* Gregor passed Richie in the hallway on his way to bed. The young Immortal only grunted, resisting Gregor's attempts at conversation. He hoped the kid didn't still carry a grudge--Gregor wasn't quite himself when they'd first met, he'd gone cold. Speaking of people seeming not to be themselves, though, there seemed to be a lot of that going around. Duncan drinking constantly. Connor acting quite cold and calculating. Richie acting more like an assassin than a thief. What was happening? Was this all a frenzy they were going through as the end approached? What would Gregor do if it came down to just himself and any of these people? He suspected Connor and Richie would go for his head...and God only knew what Duncan would do, especially if he was drunk at the time. Amanda...? Gregor wasn't sure he could fight her. She came across as a firebrand, alright, but he wondered if somewhere inside there wasn't a hurt little girl who just wanted to be left alone. She seemed not quite suited for seeking domination, just mischief. He might have to protect her--from the others. And Duncan, too, he thought without any joy. He could see Connor trying to split them apart. Women being smaller than men on the average, Connor seemed the sort to write them off as contenders. Maybe he'd use Amanda for a while, what then? He'd definitely count her expendible. And to think, Duncan had told him once that Connor had wanted to cull out the "evil" ones and leave the good ones to themselves, fight the rule of "there can be only one." Connor seemed the sort, at least the Connor he'd met, the one who probably had slaughtered innocent mortals back at the restaurant to meet his agenda, to believe there could be only himself. And that was a damn shame. He reached his door and felt a Buzz. "Dammit, not already..." he whispered as he drew his sword and opened the door. The room was dark. He turned on the light and slowly stepped in. Amanda was in his bed, in a long shirt, sword in hand. "What're you doing here, Amanda?" "Richie might try to get me in my sleep." "Uh-huh." "I'm scared, Gregor. They've all changed." "This isn't a game, is it? I've heard Duncan talk about you a lot, how you play games to get what you want--but this is real, isn't it?" Amanda looked up at him. Her breathing was ragged, her eyes were bloodshot. "Does this look like a game?" "Two of us could sense an attacker better than one," Gregor said. "Go back to sleep. I'll keep the first watch." ******* END INTERLUDE =========================================================================