Merciless Chapter 3/8: No Exit Vi Moreau and Suzanne Herring Write the authors c/o Bridget Mintz Testa, btesta@houston.rr.com RATING: PG-15 for language and one sexually-suggestive scene The first thing Duncan MacLeod saw when he jogged slowly through the door of the barge, cooling down after his ten-mile run through Paris, was the angry red blinking message light of his phone. Leaving the door open behind him, and not bothering to turn on the light, he stepped over to the phone. In the instant of reaching out to touch the message button, the thrum of another Immortal presence shot through his skull. He whirled for his katana as somebody ran through the open barge door, spraying the cabin with bullets. Bullets have no individuality as they penetrate flesh and shatter bone -- Duncan's whole body seemed to explode as giant fists drove him to the deck. Grunting in pain, slipping and sliding in his own blood, he tried to roll out of the way of this Immortal and his gun, but the bullets kept coming and those giant fists struck Duncan again, again. Then, blessedly, there was a pause, though the gunman was still holding the trigger. The striker pin clicked hollowly his Immortal enemy must have run out of rounds. Not at all healed, Duncan rolled and slithered towards his katana, on *this* side of the bed, thank God, praying for healing to come now and hurry. Playing for time, his voice ragged with pain, he cried out, "Who are you?! This isn't the way --" "--It's done," came a familiar voice -- a voice that was normally a pleasant tenor but that now rasped harshly with rage. "Stephen!" Duncan gasped. "Yes, and I don't give a damn how it's done, MacLeod, how the fucking Game is played. All I care about is making you pay for my father!" A long sob followed, then metallic snicks that told Duncan that Stephen was replacing the used clip with a new one. "Remember how you used to tell me the best way for a mortal to defend himself from an Immortal? Shoot him dead, then run? Well, I'm changing that a little -- I'm going to shoot you dead, then cut off your head with your own katana." Stephen's rant had given Duncan a precious few seconds, and, though he hadn't fully assessed his injuries, he knew his healing had begun. He was stunned by Stephen's sudden attack, but somehow, despite everything, his katana was in his right hand now -- his body didn't need his brain for that, not after four-hundred-plus years. Duncan licked his lips and stood, using the katana for support -- his left leg was useless. Stephen was Immortal. My God, STEPHEN WAS IMMORTAL! When the hell did this happen? And clearly, Stephen wasn't happy about it. "Stephen," Duncan said softly, trying to calm the boy, reason with him. Stephen raised his pistol and started firing. Duncan dove on the bed and rolled off the far edge, another shot smashing into his left ankle. Dragging himself towards the back door beyond the bed, he reached up, turned the knob, and dropped his hand as Stephen fired again, another spray of bullets spattering the door. Duncan nudged the door open and slithered out like a worm, careful of the katana's razor edge -- it wouldn't do to slice something valuable off while trying to escape from a bullet. There was obviously no reasoning with Stephen, and Duncan couldn't stay trapped here in this tiny space, because Stephen clearly meant to do what he'd said. Duncan could hear Stephen gasping now, almost as if in pain himself, inside the barge. Then there was the sound of a body bumping into a solid object, a grunted curse, a thump as Stephen obviously tripped over the bed in his haste to reach Duncan. But Duncan had won his way out and was now lying prone on the deck, the cabin wall at his left elbow. He crawled straight ahead as fast as he could despite his injuries, toward the port side of the barge. He panted with effort and pain, leaving a trail of blood and sweat on his pristine deck. Somehow, he was going to have to end this here on the barge, overpower Stephen, talk some sense into him, get the boy calmed down, get him to see reason. Duncan couldn't run away into the streets of Paris, not with Stephen wildly shooting at anything that moved. God only knew who he'd kill. Fortunately, Stephen was using a silencer -- he had to have thought this out! Duncan had to end this right now! Duncan could hear Stephen inside the cabin getting back to his feet, cursing, running towards the back door. Hastily, Duncan crawled -- the healing not quite complete, but almost -- aiming now to make a half-circle to his right towards the prow of the barge, seeking the relative safety of the engine housing. It would shield him and deflect bullets. Maybe, if Duncan was lucky, one of Stephen's bullets would ricochet off the thick metal housing and kill Stephen, giving them both a little time. Come to think of it, that would be good luck for Stephen, too, Duncan thought. By the time Stephen made it out of the cabin and out onto the deck, Duncan was hidden behind the engine housing, safe for the moment, hiding. He needed time to heal -- in his present condition, he wouldn't be able to overpower the boy, which was what he had to do to save him maybe to save them both. Stephen was still breathing heavily. "I thought you liked to face your enemies, MacLeod," he taunted. "When they're fighting honorably, I do," Duncan returned. "You don't know anything about honor!" Stephen shouted. "If you had, you wouldn't have let my father die!" Duncan sighed. Not again, after all these years. "Stephen, I thought you understood about your father." "I understood all right! I understand that you let him die, and you promised me --" "Stephen! I never promised--" "You promised me! And then you stood there and watched him die! And I had to watch, too! And then you took Ordway's head, when it didn't matter any more, when Father was already DEAD! I hate you! I hate you!" The last words were almost shrieked, as Stephen's voice became increasingly shrill through the tirade. Duncan said nothing, trying to heal, trying to think. The death of Stephen's father was always going to stand between them. There was no way around it. Duncan took a deep breath. Immortal feuds lasting centuries were born from grievances just like this. For the first time, Duncan realized, admitted, that he might actually have to kill Stephen. BEHEAD him. DECAPITATE him. He shook his head in denial -- no, not now, surely not now -- maybe, sometime in the distant future, when Stephen had learned what being an Immortal really meant, and only if Duncan had no choice "And you're not the only one I hate," Stephen said into the dark, silent moment. "And you're not the only one who lied to me. I'm going to get even with you for Papa, but I'm also going to get even with all of you for lying to me." Now Duncan was wholly at a loss. "What lies?" That set Stephen off once more. Shrill and hysterical again, he cried out, "You know what lies! You never told me I was going to be Immortal! Nobody told me, and you all knew. Every single one of you knew -- you, your *kinsman*" -- Stephen's voice dripped with contempt -- "Richie, Emma, and that tall dude with the big nose. Even Nate knew," he said, his voice wavering. "See, I haven't forgotten any of you -- especially not Elena." Stephen's voice dropped to a whisper. "You all lied to me, and Elena was the worst of all. She dared to call herself my mother and the rotten bitch couldn't even tell me the simple truth about myself. So I'm going to kill you all, and I'm going to kill her, too -- I'm going to make you all suffer, just like I've suffered." Duncan shook his head. If Stephen thought that he was going to kill all of those experienced Immortals, then the kid was crazy AND stupid. "Stephen, you can't mean that. Would you have wanted to know? And do you really want to kill all those people? You'll never --" "Since when did what I want ever matter a damn to anybody?" Stephen interrupted. "And isn't killing what Immortality is all about? Hey, you know what your problem is, MacLeod? You think you know everything. But you don't, and I'm going to kill you and then I'm going to kill everyone you love, just like I've lost everyone I loved, because I hate you all but I hate you most of all!" Duncan still couldn't believe that Stephen meant any of this -- he knew the boy was distraught -- but after he calmed down, he'd see, he'd understand. Right now, it was Duncan's job to calm him down, give him that time to see and understand. And now Duncan could, because finally all of his wounds had healed. So when Stephen dived across the engine block, Duncan was prepared for the boy to do something just that desperate, and he easily rolled away. He was up instantly, the katana down, but ready. Stephen jumped to his feet, too, and the two men stood looking at one another in the lights from the city, one tall and broad, the other short and slim. Stephen's face was in shadow, but he was still holding his gun -- Duncan could see the light glinting from it. "Stephen," Duncan said calmly. "Listen to me. I know you're upset. I know how you feel. Becoming an Immortal is a shock. I've been there." Stephen shook his head and hissed. Determined, Duncan went on. "But I can't believe you really want to kill me and everyone and especially Elena. She loves you, and you love her. That's why I know you don't mean it, Stephen." Stephen raised his gun. "That's your other problem, MacLeod. You just don't listen. Your kinsman is already on his way here, because I called him earlier tonight. When he gets here, you're going to be dead." Duncan stared. Connor on his way here? The blinking message light! Oh, God, if Stephen wasn't lying, Connor must have called to warn him and he would be on his way, just like Stephen said! "He can cry over you like I cried over my father. But he won't catch me now you know where I'm gonna be? Ar-gen-tina!" he enunciated slowly, then Stephen fired, point-blank, and Duncan, still disbelieving, went down on the deck, again. The bullet lodged in his chest, squeezing out his supply of oxygen, making it almost impossible for him to breathe. And making him realize, finally, that Stephen really did mean to kill all the Immortals he knew. And deep down Duncan had known it all along, hadn't he? Hadn't he? Stephen pointed the gun at Duncan's supine body. "First you and then Elena, since I know where to find her. Then the others. And you know what, MacLeod? You know why it'll be so easy to kill Elena? Because she'll never believe it. And even when the sword slices into her neck, she still won't believe it. Just like you." Stephen kicked Duncan's right hand, kicked the katana free. Angry and betrayed, Duncan thought, no, not just like me -- I believe you. He wanted to say, "I've loved you, boy, as best as I could." Instead he said, he ordered, "You won't kill Elena." As Duncan watched Stephen raise the katana awkwardly and start it down in its deadly arc, Stephen's words exploded in Duncan's brain the way the bullets had exploded into his body: "It'll be so easy to kill Elena She'll never believe it " And after that Taking the deepest breath he could, Duncan rolled aside, and felt the wind of the blade's passage just millimeters from the back of his head. He rolled back and kicked Stephen's feet out from under him. The boy went down gracelessly and lost the sword when he fell. Duncan leapt to his feet, stepped over the boy's body, and scooped up the katana. Stephen rolled over, and Duncan held the blade over him, in easy swinging distance from the boy's neck. Duncan knew he was going to pass out soon. He had to do something, say something, now. He had to he had to kill Stephen Holz permanently. Let's try that. "Do you want to die?" Duncan asked, his voice harsh and breathless. Stephen stared up at him, his face now lit in the city lights. The exotic beauty was gone, replaced by a mask of hatred and fury. "Not until you've all paid!" Stephen shouted, bringing up the pistol that he'd never dropped and aiming for Duncan's head. Duncan went down to one knee and swung the blade in the same instant that Stephen jerked the pistol down and fired. Stephen's head rolled away from his body just as Stephen's bullet hit Duncan in the forehead. Duncan fell across Stephen's headless body, thinking, My God, I really killed him! What will I tell Elena? But by the time Stephen's Quickening came, Duncan was already dead.