Date: Mon, 7 Nov 1994 07:25:21 -0500 Reply-To: Highlander TV show stories Sender: Highlander TV show stories From: Rene Gibson Organization: ALPHATECH, INC. Subject: Long Lifelines (A HL/FK story) (01/06) Long Lifelines ---------------- by Rene Gibson "Stay away from my wife!" The speaker was angry--furious--and very drunk. Staggering forward as he shouted, he waved a finger at the other man to make his point. "She's mine! Do you hear me? Mine!" A cruel, evil laugh answered him. Looking over the drunk calmly, the other man grinned and said, "I give her what you can't. What makes you think she wants you?" The drunk sputtered indignantly. "Why, you--!" Laughing again, the other man nonchalantly pulled a sword out of his coat. "You're not Immortal, but you'll die just as easily with this." As he stepped forward and raised his sword, he continued, "You mortals can be such annoying little twits." Relishing the look of fear on the somewhat-less-indignant mortal's face, the Immortal followed coolly as the man ran down the dead-end alley. When the mortal reached the end, he turned and pleaded, "No! Please!" "Sorry," said the Immortal, quite unregretfully, and promptly beheaded the mortal. * * * Responding to a call, Nick and Schanke drove up in front of a bar. As they got out of the car, a man came forward to meet them. "Are you the police?" Nodding, Nick showed the man his badge. "Are you the person who called the police?" At the man's nod, Nick asked, "What did you see and where did you see it?" "Right back here, in the alley. I was just coming out of the bar here, in front, and heard this guy yelling for help. I was almost to the alley when I heard the guy's scream cut off kind of abruptly." The man fidgeted a little. "I didn't see too much, you understand. I was afraid to go in there. I went back into the bar and called you guys. When I went to the alley again, there was only that body, just lying there," he said, pointing to the decapitated corpse. When Nick and Schanke started forward, the man asked, "Is that all you need to know? Can I go home now? My wife's going to kill me. She's never going to believe this." Schanke smiled and nodded. "Sure. We'll contact you if we have anymore questions." Continuing into the alley, Schanke commented, "Hey, it looks like this one comes 'assembly required.'" Shaking his head, Nick said, "That was bad, Schanke. Really bad." Stopping a little bit away from the body, Nick noticed how clean the cut was. The murderer must have used something very sharp. "Hi, guys. Ooh. This one came in pieces." Nick turned when he heard Natalie's voice. "What brings you here?" "I heard about this just as I was leaving for home," Natalie said. "I decided to check it out on the way. After all, I'm going to be doing an autopsy on him tomorrow anyway." "Hey, Nat. How does this go together?" Schanke asked. "Is it 'The head bone connected to the neck bone?'" Natalie joined in the fun. "Not quite. It's more like 'The fourth vertebra connected to the fifth vertebra...'" "I don't know," said Schanke, shaking his head. "It just doesn't flow as nice." Staring at them briefly, Nick rolled his eyes skyward. "You know what? You two were made for each other." Schanke and Natalie looked at each other, then back to Nick. "Thanks," they said in unison. Nick shook his head and steered the subject back in the right direction. "Why decapitation? Usually guns are easier to come by than whatever was used to do this." "I don't know," Schanke answered. "A ritual killing?" Nick wondered about that himself. Decapitation--that was one way to kill a vampire. Since the body was still here--rather than vanishing as a vampire's body would have--Nick knew the victim was not a vampire. Had the killer been looking for a vampire and had guessed wrong? Or was there some other reason for the odd method of murder? Religious ritual, maybe? He had to know in case there was a vampire hunter on the loose. * * * "Slan Quince: He likes to play with his victims before killing them. First he destroys their property and threatens their loved ones. Then, when they have nothing left to live for, he calls them out to fight." That was the warning Connor MacLeod had received from a friend, a fellow Immortal, telling him Slan was on the rampage again. Since it turned out Slan was heading across the continent, the warning had been unnecessary--for himself. But now Connor had another worry: If Slan went as far as the west coast, he might be after Connor's clansman, Duncan MacLeod. Although Connor knew Duncan had wanted to stay out of the Game for a while, it was time he rejoined the fight--he was needed. It would be nice if Slan would draw Duncan back into the Game. But could Duncan handle Slan? Connor hoped so; Duncan might not have a choice. There was a rumor that Duncan had a mortal lover again. Unfortunately, that made him sound like a prime target for Slan. Remembering how devastated Duncan had been the last time he had lost the woman he loved, Connor decided to follow Slan's trail to see where he was going. He would stop Slan himself, if he had to, to keep Duncan from being hurt like that again. The next afternoon, passing through Buffalo, Connor was relaxing and having a drink at a bar while occasionally glancing at the evening news. Suddenly, something caught his attention. "...and the Toronto police still have no clues about last night's decapitation..." As the newscaster went on to give more information, Connor memorized all the important details. Since Toronto was in the general direction Slan was heading, this could be just the lead he was looking for. He finished his drink and left the bar. Luckily, he had not checked into a hotel for the night yet, so he could head north immediately. He rented a car and drove to Toronto. That evening, in Toronto, Connor bought a map of the city and looked up the name of the street where the newscaster had said the beheading had occurred. It was late at night by the time he reached the location. From across the street, nothing seemed unusual about the place; just a bar with a side exit into an adjacent alley. He crossed the street and went into the alley to see if he could find anything the police had missed. Suddenly, he felt the presence of another Immortal. Quickly turning around and seeing no one was behind him, he wondered if the Immortal was in the bar. A few minutes later, his speculation was confirmed as an Immortal cautiously came out the side exit. "Richter." "MacLeod." Connor remembered Anton Richter--Berlin, World War II. Connor and Duncan had been trying to help a Jewish family flee the country, but had been captured by the Gestapo. The Gestapo-- including Richter--had killed the family and held Connor and Duncan for questioning, demanding to know who they had been working with. Since they had been working alone, the Gestapo had never believed the truth and had eventually had them shot. Richter had not had enough rank at the time to have them killed more permanently. Now he would have the chance to try again. "You killed someone here last night?" Connor asked. Richter grinned. "Yeah. Why?" "The Immortal you killed must have been fairly young. I've never heard of him." Bringing his sword out of his coat, Richter laughed evilly. "That's because he was mortal." "What?" "His wife decided she liked me better in bed. He found out about it and started to get in my way. So I eliminated him," he sneered. "He actually called ME out to fight him for her. I killed him because it amused me." Now Connor was even more angry. Drawing his sword out of his coat, he said, "I don't think you'll be amused much longer." "We'll see about that." Richter rushed forward to attack. The silence of the night was shattered by the clash of swords. Richter had had a few too many drinks to fight well and Connor hoped the fight would be over soon. He wanted to get out of here before anyone saw them. Suddenly, they both heard sirens. The police. Someone must have already heard the fight. Desperately hoping no one had actually seen him, Connor backed off and ran for a nearby fire escape. As Richter ran in another direction, Connor heard him yell, "Later, Highlander!" * * * "No, I didn't see much. It was too dark. But there were these weird sparks coming from the swords," the witness noted. "Sparks, huh? Okay. Thanks for your help," said Schanke and he walked over to Nick, who had just finished questioning another witness. "So. Did you find out anything useful?" "Not really. She didn't see anything. She just heard the fight." "The guy I talked to said he saw sparks coming from the swords as two guys fought." Schanke shrugged. "I don't know about the sparks. Maybe the guy was drunk." Nick nodded. "Maybe, but the swords would certainly explain that decapitation last night." "True." Sighing, Schanke said, "Let's try questioning a few more people. It's going to be a long night." * * * Early the next morning, just before sunrise, Connor wandered the streets of Toronto, intentionally staying away from the distant alley where he had fought the night before. After nervously watching the late night news reports in his hotel room--one far from the fight scene--he had been relieved to discover the police had no clues about who had been fighting with swords. He had waited for hours before deciding the police were not looking for him and it was safe enough to go out briefly for something to eat. Stopping in a convenience store, he bought a bagel and continued on his way, eating and still thinking. The misleading hint that had brought Connor to Toronto had come at just the wrong time. Slan could be anywhere by now-- Connor had nowhere specific to look. He should leave the city soon anyway, just in case the police did find someone who had seen him last night. There was no sense in staying too long for nothing. Glancing around as he walked, Connor noticed the Cadillac in front of the police station across the street. It was hard to miss, he thought: it was large and a nice shade of green. Looking at the car curiously, he paid little attention to the two people who emerged from the station. "And so Myra said... Knight? Earth to Knight. Schanke calling... Nick? What's wrong?" Connor looked toward the voice and saw someone who could not exist... * * * =========================================================================