Date: Mon, 16 Oct 1995 16:00:24 -0700 Reply-To: Eternal Ravenette Sender: Highlander TV show stories From: Eternal Ravenette Subject: REVENGE AND REBIRTH I, The Dragon's Sword (part 1) I've kinda played with the continuity of some of Patrick's past history slightly. Rated R. Language, violence, situations. LOGAN AIRPORT - BOSTON, MA, UNITED STATES - SEPTEMBER, 1995 He exited the airplane and walked over to baggage claim, followed by the young man who had sat next to him. He looked around and felt the presence of the other who was like him. "Are they here?" the young man said, glancing at his watch, which concealed the tattoo on his wrist. "Yes," he said. "One of them's in the limo outside." "Good. Right on time." "I believe _I'm_ the one who's running this operation, John. "I'll say who's on time and who's not." "Of course. Forgive me, Kurdt." Their bags came off the carousel, and he grabbed his, letting the younger man fend for himself. He was a tall man, with a wiry build that suggested a panther ready to spring. He had a cold, calculating look about him. He frightened the younger man, but he _was_ paying him well for his unique services. The younger man was a valuable asset and an indespencable tool in the operation. He turned around and began walking towards the exit and the waiting limo, the younger man following. The driver of the car got out, opened the trunk and placed his bags in. The younger man placed his in the trunk himself. The driver opened a door for the tall man, while the younger man opened his own door. Once in the car, the driver pulled out of the pickup area and said, "Welcome to Boston, Mr. VonHoffer." "Thank you, Ramus," he said. He indicated the younger man and said, "This is John McKinley. I came across him about a year ago. Remember when I told you about Watchers? He's one of them. Apparently he fancies himself my biographer." "Really?" Ramus said. "Do I have one?" "Actually," McKinley said, "I've been Watching Kurdt, you, and the other Immortals that have been working for him for the past five years." "And did you Watch Rupert Highsmith?" VonHoffer said. "Yes." "So you know what happened to him." "Yes." VonHoffer turned to Ramus and said, "Is everything set?" "Yes," Ramus said. "We have an office and a large penthouse on the waterfront." "And have you found him? Do you know exactly where he lives? Highsmith never reported that to me." "Yes." "Good. Is it on the way? I want to see it." "Not really. Boston is not a logically set up city." "I don't care. Take me there." BOSTON, MA, UNITED STATES - SEPTEMBER, 1995 The limo stopped on the Common side of Beacon Street across from one particular townhouse. VonHoffer stared at it and then at the street musician playing the saxophone in the common. He paid no mind to him, instead focusing all his attention onto the house. "He's there," he said. "Or someone is." He turned to McKinley and said, "What can you tell me about his relations with other Immortals?" McKinley punched up the information on his laptop computer. He said, "He's got a Student named Nancy Peters. Huh... he's married." VonHoffer nodded and said "Highsmith's last report mentioned a mortal named Michelle Taylor. They were considering marriage at the time. Apparently they went through with it." "That's not what O'Brien's Watcher's reported. He's married to an Immortal named Rebecca..." "DeJeniere?" "O'Brien now. She changed her name, but yes, the former Rebecca DeJeniere." He looked at the stoop where a tall raven-haired female Immortal now stood barefoot wearing a paint-covered smock, and carrying a shortsword in one hand and a paintbrush in the other. "I believe that's her." VonHoffer looked and laughed coldly. He said, "Things just got very interesting. John, our plans have changed." Rebecca O'Brien looked up from her painting. She felt someone outside. Not bothering to put her brush down, she went into the weapons room and picked up her sword. Then, not bothering to put shoes on, she ran upstairs, and out onto the stoop. She saw a long black limo across the street with it's tinted windows rolled up. She could feel two Immortals in the car, but neither made any move to attack. The car pulled away and drove down Beacon Street. She went back into the house to get ready for an appointment that afternoon, but would tell Patrick when he came home. "You do realize that I have to enter the fact that you're here into the database," McKinley said. "No," VonHoffer said. "You can't. You won't. I don't even want _your_ people to know I'm here." "I have to. If I don't... did you see that sax player sitting on the bench across from the house?" "Yes, but I paid him no mind." "Well, you should _start_ to pay him mind. That's O'Brien's Watcher, Bernard Willis, and he's the most senior Watcher in the Northeast. If he finds out that you're here and not recorded he'll try to find me. And if he finds me in Boston he'll be able to connect us. I _have_ to follow the procedure." VonHoffer was silent, calculating the risks. Finally he said, "Very well. Do it." Then he said, "Where can we find this Student of his?" "She's a student at Boston College," McKinley said. He looked at his watch and said, "She should be there now. It's the first day of classes." Bernard Willis saw the black limo pull up. He also saw Rebecca leave the house and stand on the stoop, barefoot, with a sword in one hand and a paintbrush in the other. He then watched the limo pull out and Rebecca go back into the townhouse. That could only mean one thing. There was an Immortal in town who was after _one_ of their heads, perhaps both. He would look it up on the database when he got to his office that night. The limo drove through the BC campus, searching. Eventually, both VonHoffer and Ramus felt her. Ramus stopped the car. Nancy stopped and stared back at the limo, clutching her backpack straps. VonHoffer said, "Lovely little thing, isn't she?" "Yes," Ramus said. "Something about co-eds..." "You guys are disgusting," McKinley said. "She's just a kid." "Relax, John," VonHoffer said. "Just because she's young doesn't make her any less of an Immortal. Or any less of a woman. Who's head has she taken?" "Huh?" McKinley said. "Who's head has she taken?" VonHoffer said, more forcefully. McKinley punched up the information on his laptop and said, "No one's." "Your information is inaccurate." Ramus said. "You mean you can tell how many heads someone's taken?" McKinley said. "Not how many," VonHoffer said, "just _if_. A virgin feels different from an experienced woman, John, you know that. You don't know exactly how many men the experienced woman has had, just _if_ she's had any. The same thing with an Immortal. No, this one's taken a head and O'Brien has broken the Rules by keeping her with him. This could be useful. I want you to find out what heads O'Brien has taken since he took her on and their biographies. I will be willing to guarantee that somehow O'Brien's watcher either altered the information or was given wrong information." "That's not how it works, Kurdt, and you know that," McKinley said as Ramus pulled the car away from Nancy. "I would _really_ doubt that O'Brien even knows about the Watchers." "Find out. _Anything_ that you have doubts about that we could use, you find out about. _Without_ hesitation. That's what I'm paying you for. Understand?" "Yes sir." "Now. Is there anyone else we should know about?" "Um..." McKinley punched some keys on his laptop and said, "Yes. Yoshihiro Ammamoto. He calls himself Joe. He's O'Brien's second Teacher and he recently opened a dojo in Kenmore Square." "Let's go," VonHoffer said. Nancy Peters saw the limo pull up and stop in front of her. She felt the two Immortals in the car and only one thing came to her mind, Connor's reaction to her Buzz when they came across eachother in Ireland this past summer. Connor had questioned Patrick about his decision to let Nancy remain with him after taking a head, citing the Rules. Connor eventually saw Patrick's reasoning, but his angry words, "What are you doing, Irelander?" came back to her. If Connor, one of Patrick's oldest friends, had that reaction, what would an Immortal who _wasn't_ a friend say? The more she thought about it, the more she thought that taking Nabbis' head was a mistake. But what was she to do? Nabbis would have killed them both if she hadn't acted. If only she could rewind time to before she took his head... before Sam came to Boston... before even she became Immortal, take it all back and start over again completely. If only. The limo pulled away from her then, and she watched it until it disappeared. They made their way back to Boston and found the dojo. They could feel two Immortals inside. "Does he know anyone else?" VonHoffer said. "Connor MacLeod," McKinley said. "But as far as I know he's in New York now. "Don't you mean Duncan MacLeod?" "No. Connor." "Who is he? I never heard of him." "The first Highlander. Or, rather the current first. He's fifty years older than Duncan and is a close friend of O'Brien's. He defeated the Kurgan in the mid 80's. I can get his bio no problem. Chances are he'll show up before this operation's over." "_He_ got the Kurgan? That would be a prize, indeed. Once this is all done I think it's about time I made this elder Highlander's acquaintance. What can you tell me about Ammamoto?" "That's him," McKinley said, pointing to the tall, long-haired, young-looking Japanese man standing in front of the dojo's front door. "He's a samurai. Recently he worked for Japanese intelligence and 'died' on his last mission so he could move here. This dojo just opened this week, so I doubt there's many students now." "_There_ he is!" VonHoffer said as a wiry built red-haired Immortal joined the Japanese Immortal outside. "The Irelander himself." The red-haired Immortal was holding a sheathed katana, and he began walking over to the limo. VonHoffer said, "Pull away, Ramus. I don't want him knowing that it's me yet." "What do you think?" Joe said. "It suits you, Old Teacher," Patrick said, looking around the small dojo, decorated completely in Japanese style. "It reminds me of the house you used to have in Japan when I first met you." "That's what I was thinking," Joe said. "Would you be interested in teaching here?" "Me?!" Patrick said. "Yes, you." "Why me?" "Because you've got the most experience with the katana and with martial arts of anyone else in Boston aside from me." "I'd be interested in _learning_ here..." "Come, Patrick... yes, there is a lot you can learn. After all, I am fifteen hundred years older than you. But there's a lot _you_ can teach. I've seen you with your Student Nancy." "I have the O'Brien Corporation to think of..." "You don't _really_ want to spend all your time with that, do you?" "Well... no." "Very well. You need a job..." "I have plenty of money, Joe. I don't _need_ a job." "Yes you do. Isn't it you Europeans who said that motionless hands are the property of Lucifer?" "Actually it's 'idle hands are the Devil's workshop.'" "Mine's more poetic. Well, then... _You_ need something to do. _I_ need someone who's close to my skill." "Joe, you're just starting out here. You can't afford to hire someone." "As you said. You have plenty of money tied up in the O'Brien Corp and you don't _need_ a job." "Oh..." Patrick said, "you expect me to _volunteer_ my services?" "No," Joe said. "I expect you to have the same arrangement as me. I don't need the money either, but I will draw a salary when and only when this place begins to show a profit." "Joe, you're not talking about hiring me. You're talking about making me your partner." "Huh. So I am." Patrick smiled and extended his hand. He said, "Of course I'll be your partner." It was at that time that they felt the presence of the other Immortals. "Two of them," Patrick said. "Yes," Joe said as he grabbed his katana. "Wait. Someone may have learned that I am here." He left the dojo. Patrick couldn't wait. He grabbed his own sheathed katana from where it sat and joined Joe on the stairs. He stared at the black limo across the street parked in front of the Rathskeller rock club and said, "Can you tell who it is?" "No," Joe said. "You?" "No. Though one of them feels familiar." He gripped his katana by the sheath and began walking across the street towards the limo. However, the limo pulled away from the curb and drove off before Patrick could confront him. Patrick walked back to the dojo, shrugged his shoulders at Joe, and said, "We'll probably find out soon enough who it was. By the way, when was the last time you took a head?" "This past winter, why?" "Nothing," Patrick said. "I just wanted to know if you were rusty or not." He thought of his meeting with Methos, the oldest Immortal, during the summer that recently past, and how he hadn't faced an Immortal in over two centuries. But he had made a promise to Methos that he wouldn't even tell Joe about him. Instead, he used himself as an example. He said, "Before Highsmith came to Boston last winter, I only faced one Immortal in ten years. Highsmith got the better of me early on. It was pure dumb luck that I didn't loose my head. I wouldn't want the same thing to happen to you, Old Teacher." Joe and Patrick signed the partnership papers. Joe had wanted to give Patrick a 50% share of the dojo, but Patrick wouldn't hear of it. Joe had bought it from its retiring owner, and had put up the money not only for the dojo itself, but for renovations, decorations, and equipment. Besides, it was the _Ammamoto_ School of Martial Arts, after all. Patrick was merely a teacher. Patrick insisted on 25%, but Joe wouldn't settle for Patrick taking less than 30%. They settled on Joe's figure. "Of course," Joe said, "if anything happens to me, the dojo's yours on the condition that you keep my name on it. Somehow 'The O'Brien School of Martial Arts' doesn't have the same ring." Patrick laughed and signed the papers. He said, "That sounds more like a bar in South Boston than a martial arts training hall." Joe left the room and came back with two small cups. "Now," he said, "we drink to our new partnership." Patrick put the pen down and took the cup from Joe. He said, "Is this what I think it is?" "I wanted to drink to our new arrangement, and I figured you hadn't had my sake for quite a while. As you Westerners say, 'cheers.'" Elaine Chew-Marriman walked out of the Kenmore Square subway station. Witnessing a murder on the Boston Common that no one believed ever occurred had changed her. She and Rick had eloped three days later, and there was a desperation to everything she did now. She was still practical, but her impulses were harder to resist. She was taking what life dished out at her eagerly, questioning it less. Which made Rick endlessly happy. He had wanted her to loosen up ever since they met two years ago. On one occasion, he even said, "maybe we should witness ritual executions more often." Yes, her impulses were harder to resist. She had slapped him across the face, which was followed by a flood of apologies and sweet lovemaking. She crossed the street and was about to enter the BU Bookstore Mall when her attention was caught by a tall Japanese man. He had just placed an A-frame sign on the sidewalk infront of the building he had come out of, and immediately walked back into. The sign said: THE YOSHIHIRO AMMAMOTO SCHOOL OF MARTIAL ARTS SPECIAL GRAND OPENING OFFER!!! Take any 6-week intro class, get FIFTY PERCENT OFF our already low one-year membership fee!! Classes include: KARATE JUJITSU KENPO AIKIDO And SAMURAI FENCING TECHNIQUE Each class is taught by a MASTER in the art COME INSIDE and SEE for YOURSELF. Talk to Yoshihiro Ammamoto or Patrick O'Brien. She read the sign again, and again her eye was caught by "samurai fencing technique." She thought, not of the execution on the Common, but of her family's sword, lost to the ages, nothing but a legend. As much in love with Rick as she was, and as interested in her family's history as he was, he would never understand the power which that particular artifact from the past had over her. The truth of the matter was, witnessing that duel on the Common had awakened something deep within her. She walked down the three stairs to the entrance of the building and opened the door. A bell above the door rang, announcing her arrival. She looked around her at the Japanese decor. Hanging on the wall were several katanas, and resting on a table were two sheathed katanas. One in particular grabbed her attention. She could only see the hilt, but _what_ a hilt. It was an intricately carved dragon's head, made, she assumed, from ivory. But the material was discolored from time and use. She imagined countless warrior's hands gripping that hilt going into who knows what kind of battles. She couldn't help herself. She picked up the sword and unsheathed it... "WE'RE CLOSED!!!" Startled she looked up and saw the Japanese man stagger over to her. He was obviously drunk. "Put that down!!" he said. "I'm sorry, I'm just... I didn't..." "You do _not_ draw the blade unless you intend on drawing blood!" "Joe..." came another slightly drunken voice from behind her. "Leave her alone. Do you expect her to chop her arm off with my sword because you say so?" The man emerged, straight out of a nightmare. The man she had seen on the Boston Common. The man she and Rick had come to think of as the Executioner. "Oh my God!" she whispered, tears welling in her eyes. "It's you!" But Patrick didn't hear her. Instead he was staring into the face of the past. A face that had haunted him. A face that, as it died in his arms at the hands of an evil Immortal said, "It's you I love, Sheng, my husband..." The tears were flowing down Elaine's face now, she was gripping the sword's hilt tightly with one hand, and the blade just above the hilt with the other and stared at Patrick. The blood had immediately begun flowing from the palm of her hand and was beginning to flow over the hilt. Joe took the sword away from her and handed it to Patrick. "Go into the office, Patrick-san. I will see what is bothering our guest." Patrick, still shocked, complied and closed the door. It took several minutes, several strips of gauze, and more than a few cups of saki to calm Elaine down. But eventually, she began to talk. She told Joe of how she and Rick came across Patrick's duel. "They were fighting," she said, "and he had him on the ground. The other guy wasn't in a position to do _anything_. He had been cut across the chest and in the leg and on the arm. He wasn't going to walk away from there in a thousand years. He was on his _knees_!! But that man... he... just... KILLED... him!! He... chopped his... HEAD... off!!" She began crying again, nine months of fear bursting from her. When she calmed down, Joe said to her, "Elaine, I can't tell you what exactly happened, but I _can_ say that there was a reason and a purpose to what you saw. A great reason." Elaine sniffed and looked at the window in the door to the office where Patrick was watching them. She said, "He's watching me..." "And does he look like a killer?" "No..." "What does he look like?" "I don't know... just a guy, I guess." "And what does this guy look like he's feeling right now?" "He looks worried." "About what?" "About... because I know what he did." "No," Joe said. "No?" "No. He's worried about _you_. About what effect seeing what you saw has had on you. About the danger you may be in." "Danger?" "Elaine, it's better if you forgot _everything_ you saw that night." "But I can't." Joe looked up at Patrick and said, "Wait here, Elaine. Don't go _anywhere_." "She saw a _beheading_?" Patrick said. Joe nodded. "Shit. That's just wonderful. Great. What do we do _now_?" "_I_ don't do anything, Old Student. The question is what do _you_ do?" "What choice do I have? I have to tell her the truth." Joe nodded. "Terrific." "Patrick, you looked like you knew her." "Maybe it's the sake, and maybe it's four and a half centuries fading the memories, but she's an exact double of Yi." "Your third wife? That Yi?" "The same." "Elaine," Patrick said, "I'm going to tell you some things that you won't believe. Please don't say _anything_ until after I've explained it, OK?" Elaine silently nodded. Patrick stood and Joe unsheathed his katana. Then he lunged at Patrick and ran him through. Patrick winced, coughed up blood, collapsed, and died. Elaine stood and said, "Oh my GOD!" His eyes snapped open and he took a large, noisy breath. His heart began beating again. Wide-eyed, Elaine could do nothing except watch. Patrick stood, shook his head, wiped the blood off of his mouth, and said, "I am Patrick O'Brien of County Cork, Ireland. I've been alive for almost eight and a half centuries, and I cannot die." "You're..." "Immortal," Joe said. "Though he's just a baby. I, on the other hand, will be exactly one thousand eight hundred years old on my next birthday." "Elaine, what you saw... what we do is no less than the battle between good and evil..." Elaine had calmed down considerably. The fact of Patrick and Joe's Immortality made everything else fall into place. She said, "So you're Immortal, and you can only be killed if your head is cut from your body. And you're supposed to kill eachother until only one remains, and that one will have all the power of all the Immortals who've ever lived." "In basic terms," Joe said, "yes." "And that... the lightning I saw... that was the lifeforce from the evil Immortal being absorbed by you." Patrick nodded. "The Quickening," he said. "It all makes sence now. The swords, the beheading, the energies... what exactly _causes_ all this." "Let's just say," Patrick said, "it's a kind of magic." "How many of you are there?" "It seems like a lot, but no one knows for sure. I've always thought that there's three or four born in each generation. Personally, I'm married to one who I've known for most of my life, and I have a young Immortal, younger than you, actually, who I've taken in as a Student." "You must keep this a secret," Joe said. "You can tell your husband, obviously, but you cannot tell _anyone_ else." "He won't believe me." "Bring him back here and we'll skewer one of us again," Patrick said. "I don't relish the thought of having to kill myself again," Patrick said, "and I like the thought of you killing me even less. That _hurt_." "It's supposed to," Joe said. "It builds character and spirit." "Oh, bullshit. I'm convinced you enjoyed it. When Elaine brings her husband down, _you're_ the one that's gonna die." "Oh, no!" Joe said. "You were the one they saw take a head. You're the one who has to prove his innocence, _not_ me." "Great. Just great." VonHoffer looked out his office window at the city below him. Ramus, McKinley, and his other Immortal "hired hand" O'Riley stood behind him. Without turning around, VonHoffer said, "What did you find out." "Not much," Ramus said. "O'Brien is in a transitional phase in his current life. He _was_ teaching history at Harvard." "How interesting..." VonHoffer said. "The 800 year old Irelander teaching history." O'Riley clenched his fists and inhaled sharply through his nose. Ramus continued. He said, "He recently resigned, for reasons unknown." "Not unknown," McKinley said. "His Watcher reported that he resigned for two reasons. One, because he took Nancy Peters in and needed to be around to protect her, and two because people were beginning to notice that the Irelander wasn't aging." "Would you _stop_ calling him _the_ Irelander!?" O'Riley said. "_I_ have just as much right to that designation, but no one seems to notice _that_." At that VonHoffer turned to face his employees, and O'Riley in particular, and said, "_I_ notice that. That's why I hired you. I want you to be able to tell _him_. Now. John, we can't use his current life against him since it hasn't been established yet. What about his past life? What about this Michelle Taylor?" "Yes..." McKinley said. "Brilliant, Kurdt." McKinley sat at the chair across from VonHoffer's chair. He booted up his ever-present laptop and started the Watcher software. He punched up Patrick's biographical information and said, "She left him. It doesn't say why." "I think she couldn't deal with it," VonHoffer said. "You may be right. O'Brien hadn't faced anyone in ten years before Highsmith." "Where is she now?" "It doesn't say," McKinley said. "What did she do for a living?" "She was a computer programmer." VonHoffer turned towards O'Riley and said, "I want you to find her. When you do, bring her here. Do _not_ kill her or rape her or I will take your head. Do not harm her in any way other than rendering her unconscious." O'Riley nodded and left. "Ramus," VonHoffer said, "I want you to find mortals to watch the townhouse and that dojo. When you do, bring them here. I want to know where he goes and who his friends are. You're in charge of phase one." Ramus nodded and left as well. "I wonder," McKinley said after Ramus closed the door, "if they'd be so eager to work for you if they knew that they were bait." "Tools," VonHoffer said. "They're tools to be used. O'Brien needs his confidence brought up by taking their heads." "But," McKinley said, "with their power added to his, O'Brien will be stronger than you." VonHoffer laughed coldly and said, "There's where you're wrong. You know as well as I do that Ramus is no Roman. He's an Italian named Ramilio, and he's barely a century and a half old. O'Riley is just over ninety. They're both formidable swordsmen, though, so they'll put up a good fight, but their power won't be enough to tip the scales. _That's_ what Rebecca is for. She has power. _Real_ power, unlike those cubs." He indicated the door that O'Riley and Ramus had exited by. "Kurdt, if I may..." "Of course, John, you know I value your opinion." "Taking Rebecca's head may enrage O'Brien to the point that he'll be able to defeat you. You know that anger and hate seem to focus him." "As it focuses us all," VonHoffer said. "Your point, John." "Ammamoto." "You expect me to defeat Ammamoto? John, you have a high opinion of my skills, but a man must know his limits." "No, I don't expect you to defeat Ammamoto. You're good, but I know you're not _that_ good. I've done some digging and uncovered something _very_ interesting which gave me this idea. Do you remember Xaiver St. Cloud?" VonHoffer nodded and said "Your _point_, John." "Xavier had hired guns with him. He would corner Immortals, the guns would open fire on them, and while they were down he'd take their heads. It was a brilliant strategy until Duncan MacLeod became his target. He missed him and had to change his tactic, which proved to be his undoing. Now, we can _do_ this. You challenge Ammamoto and I'll shoot him. Then, you take his head while he's down. But such an attack could only be done once, because the element of surprise would be gone." But VonHoffer shook his head and said, "No." "No?" "No. I agree with your points about Rebecca, but I _will_ not cheat. I have a chance of defeating her in a fair fight. For now, phase three will remain between she and myself." <<>> (c) 1995 Mabnesswords comments are, of course, most welcome! Jill Bradley, Ravenette As always, once she'd done what she'd had to, ravenjil@getnet.com Janette never looked back. member: Puppy Pack (Anniversary Song by Lisa Wolters) =========================================================================