Date: Thu, 29 Feb 1996 23:54:06 -0500 Reply-To: Mike Breen Sender: Highlander TV show stories From: Mike Breen Subject: REVENGE AND REBIRTH III - Cast The First Stone, Part 4 Note: There is a potentially offensive scene involving VonHoffer and Christianity. I don't want anyone to believe that I actually think like that. Patrick's philosophy of respect for all faiths is much closer to my own than VonHoffer's belief. Note #2: Violence and Language at the same "R" level as before. BOSTON MASS, UNITED STATES, APRIL 1927 Each casino owner was allowed one other in on the meeting. All except Patrick had their main inforcer with them. Since Patrick wasn't afraid of dieing by anyone's hand besides VonHoffer's, he had Rebecca sit with him. Most of the bosses were quiet, but a few spoke up. "Really bright, O'Brien," said the North End boss, Tony "Fats" Calliargo. "Inviting someone here who you have a history with." "Shut up, Fats," said the South Boston boss, Jimmy Donnovan. "Didn't we all agree that whoever first heard of a new guy trying to take a piece of the pie that they'd approach him before he could?" "The point is," said the boss from Charlestown, Chuckie "Fingers" Doherty, "O'Brien should have known. 'Kurt Hoffman' 'Kurdt VonHoffer?' I mean come _on_, O'Brien. I thought you were smarter than that." "Forgive me for having a shred of faith in the human race." Patrick said. "Gentlemen, the fact remains that VonHoffer and I have a past, and that he'll come after my club first, probably with the police. Then he'll go after each of yours." "We could go to his place and blow him away first." "_Bad_ idea, Fingers," said Rebecca. "Oh? Why? Seems like a good idea to me." "Because VonHoffer is a powerful man. You can't kill him that easily." "When he's got a bullet in his chest, he'll die." "ENOUGH, Fingers!" Donnovan said. "At least hear what O'Brien's got planned first before you balk at it." "Thank you, Jimmy," Patrick said. "Here's what I propose. I've got a friend on the police force..." "You _do_?" Fats Calligaro said. "How come we weren't told?" "Because I chose _not_ to," Patrick said. "My friend, who will remain nameless," Patrick glared at Calligaro as he said this, "will be able to tell me immediately when VonHoffer makes the call, and when the raid is planned for. When he does, I'll take steps to turn Club Cork into the kind of family entertainment that the Constitution doesn't frown upon, temporarily of course. Then I'll give my friend the address of VonHoffer's casino. While he's busy gloating over his non-victory, the police will have raided his place and will be waiting to arrest him." "Sounds reasonable enough," Donnovan said. "A minimum of blood spilt and the balance restored." A week passed with no word from the police _or_ VonHoffer. Then the following Friday afternoon, the telephone rang. Patrick picked it up and took the receiver off of the hook. He said, "Hello?" "It's tonight. I'm sorry I didn't have enough time, but I only found out myself." "Ok. That's plenty of time. I've already been moving some of the stuff to other locations. You'll get your reward tomorrow. Are _you_ ready?" "Yeah." "Ok, listen up..." The liquor was packed up and the tables were dismantled. Patrick supervised the shipping of them to a house he kept in Concord just for this purpose. His customers wouldn't like it, coming to the club on a Friday to find no liquor or gambling tables, but they'd understand. After all, this wasn't the first time Club Cork had come under scrutiny from the police, and it wouldn't be the last. Now the only thing to do was wait. Jail would be a good place for O'Brien to rot, VonHoffer thought. Too many people had gotten too powerful for Prohibition to be repealed any time soon, so O'Brien would be incarcerated for a good _long_ time. He straightened his tie and put on his hat. It was time. The police entered the large room. There were many people on the large dance floor and sitting at tables drinking what looked like coffee. A tall red-haired man approached them and said, "Welcome to Club Cork. What can I get you, officers? Coffee? Coca-cola?" "I'm detective Luigi D'Gornio. Are you Patrick O'Brien?" "The same, Detective." "We got a tip that you served liquor here." Patrick looked offended. He said, "Here? That vile stuff? Detective, I'm insulted. As you can see, everyone here is having good clean fun." "Still, we'd like to look around." "Be my guest." VonHoffer waited outside of Club Cork. Why wasn't there any shooting? He didn't think that O'Brien would go peacefully. He'd much rather die and have to begin again than be thrown in jail. Then why..? "My executive assistant, Rebecca DeJeniere. My head of security, Kagero." "Charmed," D'Gornio said. "Now have you seen everything?" "Yes. If we ever find that informant, I'll have him arrested for wasting police time. But know this, O'Brien. This isn't the first time your place has come under scrutiny." "It _isn't_?" "No. And if we _ever_ find one drop of liquor, it'll be all over for you. Come on, boys. Let's go." Patrick watched the retreating backs. He looked at one man on the dance floor and nodded to Kagero. She went over to him and said, "Shouldn't you be leaving with your team, officer?" The man sighed and left. Once they were gone, Patrick clapped his hands twice to signal for the band to stop. Then he said, "I'd like to thank you all for your trouble tonight, and I apologize for the lack of entertainment and beverages. Tomorrow, all drinks are on the house." The assembled crowd clapped. Patrick turned to Kagero and said, "Keep an eye on the place." Then he turned to Rebecca and said, "Let's go." _Someone_ had told O'Brien. That much was obvious. There was no way that O'Brien could have hid all that liquor between the time the cops knocked on the door and the time they entered. _Someone_ had to have told him. The question was, who? Not O'Riley, that was for sure. O'Riley was loyal to his Teacher, sometimes _too_ loyal. That left either someone in his organization, or a police officer. He would kill each and every person in his organizations until he found out. He clenched his fists tensely, got into the back seat of the limo, and told his driver to return to the club. When VonHoffer returned he was a man posession. He tipped over a blackjack table that had a game in progress and headed straight for his office. He slammed the door shut and took out his gun. With is gun hanging at his side, he stared at the aincent crucifix on his wall and said, "Why? _Why_ do You continue to abandon me? From the time I became Immortal through the centuries and O'Brien's thwarting of all my plans? _Why_? Why do You favor _him_ over me? I have kept faith with You continually, though You ignore me. Yet he... I found him in a nest of heathens, a heathen himself. I have _seen_ him worship other churches besides the one true Church. I have _seen_ him worship other gods besides the one true God. Yet why are You with _him_ and against me? Why does _he_ have Your favor, a man who readily changes his beliefs depending on the country he is in, instead of me, a man who has kept _Your_ faith, though disrobed and de-flocked? Why, my God, have You abandoned me?" And as always, as through the centuries, the figure on the cross did not answer. VonHoffer raised his revolver and shot the figure six times. He said, "You abandoned me centuries ago. Now _I_ abandon _You_." "Teacher?" came a voice from his door. "Matthew. O'Brien beat us. He knew in advance that the police were coming for him and hid his activities." "The police are _here_." "What?!" VonHoffer re-loaded his revolver and asked O'Riley if he had his gun. "Always, why?" "If it looks as if we're going to be captured, use it on yourself." "But Teacher..." "You can't DIE you stupid boy. Now listen..." But O'Riley could only stare. He backed out of the office. VonHoffer exited the office himself and was greeted by the sight of several police officers taking axes to his casks of liquor. A detective walked up to him and said, "Kurt Hoffman? I'm detective Luigi D'Gornio, and I'm placing you under arrest for smuggling liquor from Canada with intent to distribute, operation of an establishment to distribute said liquor, and running an establishment that promotes gambling." VonHoffer looked shocked. He pulled his gun out, shot the detective in the chest, and bolted for the door. Several police officers shot at him but failed to bring him down. VonHoffer turned and fired back at them. O'Riley followed, also firing. Patrick and Rebecca pulled up at that moment. Patrick got out of the car and watched, transfixed. He knew what VonHoffer was trying to do. The police had them surrounded, and escape was impossible. VonHoffer turned to O'Riley and said, "Do it! Shoot yourself!" "NO!" "You won't die you stupid fool. We can escape and rebuild our lives." "I... I can't..." "Drop the guns!" a police officer said. "I said DROP the guns!" VonHoffer turned to O'Riley and shot him twice in the heart. With a look of shock, O'Riley fell and died. "Just drop it. Easy now..." VonHoffer shot the officer who was speaking, then placed the gun against his temple and pulled the trigger. Neither Patrick nor Rebecca flinched. Both had seen more than enough violence and death to last any mortal several lifetimes. They wordlessly got into the car and drove off. BOSTON, MA, UNITED STATES - FEBRUARY, 1996 "Preparations are behind," VonHoffer said to McKinley. "Both O'Riley and Ammamoto should be dead by now." "These things take time," McKinley said. "You of all people should know that a plot as intricate as this can be de-railed easily. O'Brien hasn't been alone since Kagero arrived in Boston last month. He, Kagero, and Rebecca have been together constantly, and more often than not Ammamoto is with them. And Kagero has moved into Ammamoto's apartment, so it's impossible to get Ammamoto alone, never mind O'Brien." "What _is_ your timetable, then?" "Ammamoto only has one month to live. Probably less. O'Riley will die tonight." VonHoffer nodded and said, "Call O'Riley and tell him to find O'Brien and challenge him." "Do you remember Dakuan?" Kagero said as she and Patrick finished their sparring match in the dojo. "_Do_ I. I'm convinced he was a Watcher." "He was." "How do _you_ know? You just found out about them last month." "I asked your friend Bernard. I had already put two and two together, like how did he know about Gemma in the first place, and more importantly, why wasn't he shocked when he saw me alive again? Then Bernard looked it up and said he was assigned to Gemma, but was also working for the Tokugaua government at the same time, which was how he uncovered Gemma's plot." "How did he justify it then? Getting involved like he did?" "I suspect he kept it separate in his mind. It wasn't a battle between two Immortals. It was a battle between the Tokugaua government and the Shogun of the Dark, or more specifically, between Jubei and Gemma." At that moment, the phone rang. Joe leaned out of the office and said, "Can you get that? I'm in the middle of hanging one of your wife's paintings." Patrick chuckled and picked the phone up. "Ammamoto School of Martial Arts," he said. "O'Brien." Patrick immediately recognized the voice. "O'Riley. Where and when?" "Underneath the World Trade Center pier, eleven tonight." "I'll be there." Patrick sharpened his blade after dinner that night. He looked at Rebecca and said, "I want you to go to Joe's tonight." "Why?" "Do you remember what was on VonHoffer's computer? About his plan to take your head? This could be a diversion for him to get you." "I can take care of myself." "Can you?" "What's _that_ supposed to mean?" "VonHoffer is a _good_ swordsman, almost as good as me, and since the twenties, he's shown absolutely no mercy, and only a smattering of honor." "So I'm supposed to sit behind the strong man and say 'oh please protect me'!?" "That's not what I meant, and you know it." "Well you could have fooled me!" Rebecca turned to leave. Patrick put his sword down and grabbed Rebecca by the shoulders. He spun her back to him and gripped her shoulders tight. He said, "_Look_ at me, Rebecca. You _can't_ beat him. You're not as good as him. You're not as strong and no where _near_ as big. The last head you took you _admitted_ was due more to dumb luck than any kind of skill. Joe _and_ Kagero will both be there and they'll stand between you and him." He loosened his grip on her and said, "I love you deeply, Rebecca, and I couldn't love you more if we were mortal. I don't want to loose you. Not to him. Not to anybody." "Patrick I'm..." tears welled up in her eyes. Patrick slipped one arm down to her waist, buried the other in her hair and pulled her close, tears in his eyes as well. Rebecca put her arms around his neck and held him, feeling his heartbeat next to hers. How long they were both like that, Patrick couldn't say, but in the end Rebecca agreed to go to Joe and Kagero's. The unseasonable balminess of early February had given way to more seasonable coldness. Patrick stood, sword beneath his wool coat, under the World Trade Center pier, the wind whipping off of the Boston Harbor. He wished he could spare O'Riley this night. Patrick felt him approach and said, "I don't want to kill you, O'Riley." "But _I_ want to kill _you_. You have kept me from becoming a legend. Always when I would say 'I am the Irelander,' others would laugh and say '_You_, boy, are _not_ the Irelander.' Once your head and Quickening are mine, I'll have your name as well." "A name doesn't make a legend, we both know that. It's your actions. If you want to be a legend, _be_ a legend. Leave VonHoffer and go out on your own. You're _nothing_ to him but bait for a trap. He doesn't want you to kill me, but wants me to kill you so that I'll fall deeper into his plans. Did you ever ask him about me? I mean _really_ ask him about me? We've known eachother most of our Immortal lives. He's been trying to kill me for seven and a half centuries. He obsesses about me constantly. Why would someone obsessed with revenge allow someone else to kill the target?" "ENOUGH!!!" O'Riley came at Patrick with his sword. Patrick, in a lightning-fast move, whipped his own katana out from beneath his coat and blocked O'Riley's attack. He unbuttoned the coat and let it fall to the ground. He said, "Leave VonHoffer and come with me. I'll be your Teacher." "NEVER!!!" O'Riley attacked again, sloppily. Patrick swiftly disarmed him and kicked him in the stomach. O'Riley sank to his hands and knees and vomited. When he collected himself and knelt upright, Patrick placed his sword at O'Riley's neck and said, "Seven decades ago I told you I didn't slaughter children. The same holds true now." Patrick removed his sword from O'Riley's neck and held it, blade up and against his arm, samurai-style. In the harbor, a ship's horn moaned, mournfully. "Why?" O'Riley managed. "Look at the whole picture. Look at VonHoffer's preoccupation with killing me and ask yourself _why_ he sent you. He's sending the sacrificial lamb to the slaughter. Isn't that right?" O'Riley nodded. Patrick put his sword down and extended his hand to O'Riley. "Come with me, Matthew. I'll show you that a name isn't what makes a legend. I'll _teach_ you how to become a legend. It's not too late." O'Riley nodded and took Patrick's hand. Patrick helped him to his feet and said, "That is your first step on a new road." Patrick put his coat back on and returned his sword to its place in the lining. Then they both felt the third Immortal approach. Patrick placed his hand beneath his coat. "Actually it's also his last step," VonHoffer said as he swung his sword at O'Riley's neck. O'Riley's head, with a look of shock, fell into a puddle, and his body collapsed a second afterwards. "How," Patrick said. "could you be so dispicable?" "Having O'Riley on your side would ruin my plans." VonHoffer pointed a gun at Patrick and shot him in the heart. As Patrick sank to his knees he saw the Quickening explode from O'Riley's body. He inhaled sharply. His eyes snapped open. He was alive. Again. Patrick looked around him. He saw muddy sand in front of him and seagulls eyeing him curiously. From the looks of his fingers, several must have already gotten a taste. "Shoo!" They flew off. He ignored the pain in his fingers, since they would heal soon enough. Besides, the surprise at still having his head outweighed everything else. He sat and looked around him. It was low tide, and there was a cliff directly in front of him. He stood and walked towards it. He stopped and looked out towards the sea. There was another shore barely a mile away from him, and to his right, another shore snaking off into the distance. He turned back and looked up the cliff. There was a huge black metal automated lighthouse directly above him. He was in Marblehead. It was obvious. VonHoffer had taken his lifeless body and dumped it into the harbor somewhere, probably hoping that Patrick would be drifting in the ocean for a few years. It was still cold, so that meant it was still winter. Or winter again. Things hadn't changed much, so Patrick could be assured that he hadn't been in the water for more than a few years, though he prayed that it was much shorter than that. He looked at his watch. Not surprisingly, it had stopped. Amazingly enough his wallet and change were still in his pockets. And his sword was still beneath his now torn coat. His fingers now healed, he reached for his sword, fearing the worst. The blade was none the worse for wear. He couldn't have spent that much time in the water if the blade hadn't rusted yet. Nothing to do then, but walk towards Marblehead center. On Marblehead neck, leading back to the mainland, a lexus with several bumper stickers reading "FEAR," "BLACK FLAG," "SKINNY PUPPY," and "NIN," stopped. A college-aged punk stepped out and looked Patrick up and down. "Man, you stink," he said. "Yeah, well you don't look so hot yourself, slick." The kid smiled and said, "Touche, my frend." Patrick couldn't take it anymore. He said, "What's the date?" "February 29th. Leap day." "What year?" "1996. You coming off a serious trip, or what?" "Yeah... I've been out of it for a while." Inwardly, Patrick was relieved that it had only been eleven days since his encounter with VonHoffer. "Yeah, I been there," the kid said. Patrick couldn't help but laugh. He said, "I _really_ doubt you were on a trip like this." "Hey man, you want a ride somewhere?" "I'd love a ride into Boston, but Marblehead center will do." "Hop in. I'll take you to Boston." Amazed at his good luck, Patrick got in the passenger seat. He said, "I need a phone. Can we stop in the center?" The kid pointed at the hump between the seats and said, "My parents gave me this car hoping I'd become responsible. Boy were _they_ wrong. Go ahead. My dad pays for it." Patrick decided it was no use in arguing with the kid since he'd just spend any money Patrick gave him for the use of the phone. Then there was the fact that any money Patrick _did_ have was probably one big wet ball in his wallet. He picked up the phone and dialed Joe's number. There was no answer, and he didn't leave a message. Then he dialed his own. Again, no answer. He tried Rebecca's studio, but as before, there was no answer. Then he dialed the dojo. "Ammamoto School of Martial Arts," came Joe's voice. "Joe, it's me." "My ghods, Patrick! We were beginning to think that VonHoffer had lied. He called here to tell us that you were gone, but not permanently dead. That was eleven days ago. Where are you?" "Marblehead, route 1A, heading back towards town. Barring any unforseen traffic, I'll be back in the city in about an hour and a half. I'll tell you the story when I get in. How's Rebecca holding up?" On the other end, Joe was silent. "Joe, where the fuck is she?" "I haven't seen her since before the fight. Neither has Kagero." "Didn't she go to your house?" "No." "Ok. Thanks, Joe," Patrick said not being able to contain his worry. Patrick hung up the phone. Then he turned to the kid and said, "Step on it." "But there's cops all over the place." "And if you get a ticket, that'll just piss your daddy off. Come on, be a rebel!" The kid smiled and said, "Yessir!" Then he put the gas pedal to the floor. <<>> (c) 1996 Mabnesswords The entire Irelander saga can be found at: http://www.vuse.vanderbilt.edu/~copelasa/irelander ---Mike (THIS SPACE UNDER CONSTRUCTION) Check out the NEW faster home of the Other Days homepage: http://www.channel1.com/users/mikeb/odays.html Soon to take advantage of that cool Netscape 1.1 and 2.0 stuff!! =========================================================================