Date: Mon, 12 Feb 1996 21:19:17 -0500 Reply-To: NSumsion@AOL.COM Sender: Highlander TV show stories From: "Nathan R. Sumsion" Subject: The Value of Friends (6b/10) SAN JOSE, CALIFORNIA. 1996. They arrived at the junkyard just minutes before the Immortal. Monica and her companion scouted for a good vantage point to observe the combat to follow. They settle themselves in just as her fellow's Immortal got out of his car and approached the other man astride his motorcycle. Whoever the opponent was, he looked menacing. "Can you see who it is?" she whispered. The man was looking through his binoculars at the commencement of the fight. Steel rang against steel clearly in the night. Monica shivered against the brisk breeze and looked around her. There didn't appear to be anyone for miles, just rusted carcasses of metal and concrete. "Not quite... my God! He is running Jennison all over the place. And Jennison's a master." Monica waited anxiously. The figures were too distant for her to see clearly in the dim light. All she could see were two men fighting, but couldn't even tell which was which. Suddenly, the Watcher went pale. "I know him! It's the Magyar. We..." He was interrupted as a crackle of energy erupted over the junkyard. Both Watchers turned back to witness the awesome intensity of the Quickening. Electricity arced off of smashed and rusting cars, shattering already-shattered glass and chewing up gouges of ground. They stood, mesmerized by the sight until its finale. "We've got to go," he said to Monica. "This Magyar has been responsible for the deaths of over a dozen Watchers. He's got to be the reason so many of us are missing. C'mon, let's..." His voice was drowned out at the approaching roar of the Harley Davidson. "Run!" he shouted at her, as both of them raced towards the car. They were too late. The Magyar arrived between them and the car, spinning the motorcycle in a half-circle to face them. "Get on the phone! Tell someone and get out of here! I'll try to hold him off." Monica ran, pulling her phone out. She had recognized the futility in his voice. He knew as well as she that he wouldn't survive the encounter. She ran into the junkyard, ran between the rows of cars. She stifled a sob as she heard a cry of pain suddenly cut short from back by the car. Soon she lost herself amidst the maze of derelict vehicles, hearing only her harsh gasps of breath as she tried to calm down. She quickly punched a number on the phone, her fingers trembling violently. The phone rang three times before a voice answered. "Joe's." Monica explained her situation, quickly and as quietly as she could, but she still felt as if her voice was shouting out over the silence of the night. "Get out of there now!" Joe urged over the phone. "I'll warn everyone else, just go." She nodded, then cursed herself for being foolish. Joe couldn't see her nod over the phone. She disconnected the call, but before she could put the phone away it was snatched out of her hand. The Magyar was standing beside her. She turned to run, but he threw her against the hulk of a car, knocking her breath from her. She sagged to the ground, trying to regain some air. The Immortal stood above her, watching without expression. The moonlight reflected a blue sheen off of his hair and leather, and created twinkles in his eyes that seemed to mock her. His sword was a huge and ugly thing, covered in the blood of at least two men, a nearly palpable presence beside him. He glanced at her phone and hit redial, watching the number display on the readout. "Joe's Tavern." He disconnected and crushed the phone. "The area code was 206. Seattle." He smiled. And then she screamed. ******************************* End part 6b. Please send any comments to me at NSumsion@aol.com =========================================================================