HIGHLANDER - SON OF LIBERTY
by Erik
skippy_efa@mindspring.com
DISCLAIMER: I wish to state right now that the fantasy world that is the setting for this story is not my idea. I have no rights to it. That honor belongs to Panzer/Davis. All I am doing here is expressing my appreciation for there work. As a result, I put this out to the people with absolutely no expectation of profit. All characters not from my twisted mind are copyright to there owners. However, characters that appear here that did not appear in other places are mine, for the use of this piece of Fan Fiction.
NOTES: If you find this Fan Fic entertaining and wish to post it somewhere else, please contact me first. More then likely, I'll say yes. But I just want to know where my stuff is, so I can tell people about it. (Plugging your site for you).
Now, some of you have read this first part before. After getting feedback, and looking ahead for what I was planing, I've decided to revise certain details, and expand on some of the ideas.
It's not a complete rewrite. Think of this as the "Special Edition/Directors Cut"
~~~~~
PART ONE - AMONG THE LOST SOULS
New York
Saturday
January 8th, 2000
Mike ran with his sister right behind. He laughed as they jumped over fallen wood pieces and broken glass. The two of them liked to play in the burned out apartment building. Lots of places to hide, especially if you where ten and eleven like him and his sister, Elizabeth, or lizard. As he called and taunted to her they reached their favorite floor.
This was the really cool place on the building. The fire started on this floor and left burn marks all over the place.
"You'll never catch me, Lizard!" Mike shouted as he ducked through a hole in the wall into a burned apartment unit. He looked over the burned carpet and couches. And ducked behind the counter of the kitchen.
Elizabeth hopped into the burned apartment, looking from side to side. She giggled as she leaped into the kitchen, getting a shout from her brother. She had gotten him by surprise.
"I got you, Mike," she laughed as Mike got up from falling on his back.
"And I have you!" came a voice from behind. The two kids looked up with a moan to see Melissa, there babysitter. "What did you two think you where doing, sneaking out like this."
"But, it so boring back home. Look at this place, it's so cool," said Mike as he and Elizabeth got up.
"It's also very dangerous. Now, we have to get out of here before..."
"Don't worry about that."
The voice had come from the blasted doorway. Melissa turned around, afraid of what she might see.
The sight that greeted her was a relatively young man. He had a long coat on and a large duffel bag on his shoulder. He had his hair short, just over his ears. He looked at the three of them with deep eyes before he gave a smile. "It was nice to hear honest joy again."
Mike was the first to speak. "Who are you?"
"I'm the guy who lives here," he said, making a gesture with his arms. "At least I use to be."
"But," Melissa said. "Mama said the guy who lived here died when it burned."
The young man gave a grin as he brought a sword out from his coat before slamming the blade into the burned floor. "I guess that means I'm a ghost."
Mike and Elizabeth ran over to Melissa, who held the two kids. The young man looked at them again. "I think it's time you kids listened to your sitter."
Melissa nodded, and hurried the kids out.
The young man watched them leave and gave a long sigh. Normally, he loved kids. They looked at the world without a sliver of cynicism.
But, he just needed to be alone while he did this. For more then a few reasons.
Tom unlocked the cabinet and moved a few bottles around. A few were shattered, the liquid dried. But most where intact. The young man put the undamaged ones in his bag before opening one and taking a long drink. He looked at the bottle and to the rest of the burned living room.
Those bottles of scotch where the last things of real value in the living room. Except for memories.
The young man sighed as he stepped to the destroyed window and looked out to the city below. He could see the babysitter hurrying the two kids back to their apartment. He let a small laugh out.
Kids. If only we all remained that innocent.
The young man turned away from the window and sat down on the floor of the apartment. He had been waiting here, everyday, since the year began. He knew it was only a mater of time.
The thing was, when his mind was idle, it had a habit of drifting. Just as it was now.
To the beginning...
~~~~~
Virginia
October 20th 1778
The rain fell down. It clouded the eyes, slowed ones walk, and chilled one right down to their bones. Whether they were British or American.
Thomas did his best not to sneeze, but finally fell into a fit for a few seconds. But, he didn't stop walking with the marching lines. He had been fighting with the militia for almost a year. Little things like this didn't get to him anymore.
The lines finally made their way out of the waterlogged woods into the clearing. They now found themselves under the direct rain. It fell hard on their heads as they looked over to the lake in the center of the clearing, with the Appellation Mountains in the far distance.
Thomas would have admired the view, if that was all there was too see.
"HALT!" shouted the commander as the entire line and squad stopped walking. Standing before them was a large wave of red. Angry. Hungry.
Thomas was beginning to regret joining up. Being in front didn't help.
"Ready ARMS!"
Thomas's body moved on its own, bringing his rifle down and level at the British soldiers walking towards him and his friends.
"TAKE AIM!"
Thomas could feel his pulse in his neck and ears, as well as the chill in his body that had nothing to do with the rain or it being October.
"FIRE!!!"
A series of explosions lit the twilight as over three dozen rifles went off. Thomas watched as all those in the front of the British lines fell forward, dead.
The colonials had fired first. That had been the hard part. Now came the harder part, reloading before the British returned the favor.
Thomas lined the charge and bullet with the barrel and primed the trigger.
He brought the rifle forward and readied to fire as he saw the flashes from the other side of the field.
It felt as through he had been punched in the chest. Twice. Four, five times. Thomas could taste a warm, coppery liquid in the back of his throat and knew it was his own blood.
He felt heavy and started to fall backwards. He landed softly, he thought. He could see his fellow militia soldiers around him and above him. He sighed as everything began to move in slow motion, without sound.
He found it harder and harder to breathe as he watched his friends fire and fall. He tried his best to move but couldn't.
Then he saw something, something like a vision. An image was come to him from the sky, filling his sight. It was dark until it cleared and seemed to be looking right at him.
An eagle...
~~~~~
There was the screaming in his head. There was the pain. There was this and more. Then, from once there was death, there was life. Thomas shot up from the ground, breathing deeply. He filled his lungs with air, having been deprived for so long. Then, carefully, he opened his eyes. He was not ready for what he saw.
The entire field had been covered in mist. But even through that, he could see them. Colonial, British. All dead. Thomas slowly stood up and inhaled the stench of the dark, nighttime field.
There was no sign of life. Anywhere.
Thomas collapsed back down to his knees as he looked down at his shirt and jacket. Five bloody holes where right in the center of it, two going into his heart and another into his lungs.
But under his shirt, there was not one mark.
He didn't have time to think about it as, at that moment, his head was filled with a scream. Just as he was adjusting to it, he felt nausea. He coughed, trying to clear whatever it was out, but no luck.
Then, he heard something. Not a noise from in his head, but one outside. And right behind him.
Thomas dropped his body just as a blade swiped right where his neck had been a moment ago. Tom rolled on the ground for a moment before standing back up.
Through the mist stood one of the British officers, major from the looks of it. He had a slash across his uniform shirt and bullet holes in his shirt and pants as well. But he was just standing as though they where nothing.
"Well, you moved faster then I thought," said the British as he stomped over dead bodies toward Thomas. "But, it matters little. This will just take a while longer."
The Red Coat charged at him, swinging the blade with grace and precision. However, the mist was slowing him and the darkness was making it difficult to see. It gave Thomas enough of an advantage to run and dodge.
The red coat was not happy. He turned to land another blow when he saw Thomas with his pistol drawn. A load explosion, and the red coat was thrown to the ground by the impact of the bullet into his chest.
Thomas's sighed in relief when the red coat went down into the mist. Then watched in horror as he got up again.
"What the hell are you?!?" shouted Thomas as he stepped backward.
"Much like you," he said as he stepped to Tom. "An immortal."
The meaning was lost on Tom as he ran from the field towards the woods his squad came from originally. The British followed, right on his heals.
As they reached the first trees, Thomas grabbed one and spun around to face the red coat. The British thought that at this point it would be an easy kill. Thomas had stopped moving and was holding onto a tree to catch his breath. The red coat smiled as he readied the blade.
"There can be only one."
The blade began a slow, powerful drive right as Thomas neck.
Only it wasn't there anymore.
The red coats sword lodged itself into the tree, stuck. The British officer tried his best to pull it out. He was so intent that he didn't see Thomas as he came around from behind.
"Turn about is fair play," he said as he made a clean swipe with a colonial saber on the ground.
The blade connected with the flesh of the red coats neck just as he was turning around. The blade continued forward until there was nothing left to cut. The head tumbled off the red coats body and fell into the mist.
"Overconfident bastard," said Thomas as he looked down at the fallen man.
Then, he began to feel something odd. It was a tingly, prickly feeling on his skin as he began to feel his heart and lungs work faster and faster. He could smell burning gunpowder as the feeling on his skin and heart intensified.
Something was happening.
He saw blue energy ribbons dance around the field, under over and in the mist itself.
Tom began to taste something in his mouth. Sharp, bitter. He couldn't place it. But two seconds later, it didn't mater.
Suddenly, lightning was everywhere. Around him. In him. He felt as every fiber in his body was set ablaze. And pain. Pain that left no words, no language. It was the pain of being born, before there where words to get in the way. All one could do in the presence of such pain was to scream. And Thomas did indeed scream. The lightning danced around his body, the nearby forest beginning to burn.
Then, in the midst of it all, Thomas began to see. He saw the entire life of a man flash before his eyes. A man who's life went back over 700 years. He watched as the discoveries, the art, the history unfolded as though he was there. Then, with a final burst of blue lightning, the pain stopped. Thomas collapsed onto the ground, panting and trying to move. He could only stumble.
~~~~~
New York
Friday
December 17th 1999
The doors to the subway car opened. Thomas was rubbing the sleep out of his left eye with his finger. He hadn't slept well last night. Of course, work didn't care if you where tired.
He stepped up the stairway and onto the streets of New York. He quickly fell into step with the crowd and disappeared. That was skill one had to learn in a big city. It was cold and damp out, the moisture collecting in his hair and matting it to his head. He hugged his jacket closer to his body, trying to fight the chill and the rain. Not that he really needed to worry about catching the flu or anything.
Thomas sighed as he looked at his watch. It was already seven-twelve. He needed to be at the library by seven-thirty or be written up. Again.
~~~~~
Tom gave a small laugh as he looked at the book in his hand. It was a collection of Mark Twains work. Tom was older then it was, and yet it looked to be so much older then him.
Tom put the volume back on the shelf as he stepped down the ladder to the floor. He stepped up to the front counter and turned in his apron. End of his shift and he was hungry. After six hours in the company of dusty book, he was read to face the streets of New York.
Then, he felt the slight breeze across his body. It had nothing to do with the wind, and he smiled knowing who was close by.
"Will?"
Thomas stopped and turned around to the beautiful voice that had called out the name. "Mariko," he said as he walked over and gave the Asian girl a hug. "I didn't think I'd see you until spring."
"So did I," she said as they fell into step towards the exit to the streets. She gave a playful nudge as they stepped to the exit. "Not going to be a problem, is it?"
Tom smiled back. "Not at all."
Mariko stopped at the intersection with him as they waited for the light to change. She studied his face for a few moments.
"Are you alright, Will?" she asked. "You seem a little distant."
Tom nodded. "It's nothing, just a few stray thoughts."
He looked out as the cars passed by at full speed. Through the haze and the cold. So much like that day. He always got nostalgic on day's like this. Especially since the weather was almost exactly the same.
~~~~~
Mariko looked up from her sandwich to Thomas's blank expression. Of course, she didn't know that his name was Thomas. To the rest of the world he was known as William Donaldson, one of the many names he had gone through in his life.
"You seem a little distant," said Mariko as she took a sip from her drink.
Tom shook his head. "It's nothing. Just remembered something, that's all." He then took a sip of his own drink as he looked out the window to the street. The weather was getting colder. He then turned back to Mariko with a smile. "You said you where going to Okayama to visit your parents. What happened?"
She smiled back at him. "They called last night. They said that they wanted to come to visit me. My mother has never been to America. Plus," she said with a glint of mischief in her eye. "They wanted to meet this American boy I keep talking to them about."
Tom's checks flushed at the complement. The one thing that stayed the same over time was the warm feeling one got from a woman's attention.
"Well," he said. "I guess I'll have to improve my Japanese. When will they get here?"
"Next week," she said as she finished her sandwich.
Tom nodded as he also finished his sandwich and chips. Then, he felt the itching behind his eyes and the hushed whispers in his head. The Buzz.
He looked quickly around the restaurant but got nothing from them. He turned out to look through the large window and saw him. His ruff face, long braided hair and lopsided grin. Holden.
~~~~~
England
April 7th 1941
Thomas looked over his notes in the middle of the muddy field.
Of course, he wasn't in the mud himself. He was sitting on the wing of his Spitfire fighter plane. He turned to the markings on the side to count his kills. And the art he had drawn on the nose, a shadow taking the lightning on a sword. The words "Lightning Dancer" in bold finished the art.
He felt the chill of winter air through his coat. Nearby, the ground crews where reloading the weapons and refueling. The German attacks had been constant. Everyone on the island was nervous. Jumpy.
Of course, Tom was jumpy for different reasons. He had been on the European continent since the First World War. Europe had a lot more Immortals on it then any place he had ever been. They where also older, faster and better taught. Life for the young immortal, like himself, was a dice throw.
His eyes looked up from his notes when he felt his gut twist.
The Buzz.
"Well, aren't you the scribe."
Thomas looked up from his writing and smiled at his wingman and fellow immortal, Holden.
"Maybe I've become wiser in my old age," laughed Tom as he jumped down from the wing. His boots made a small splash into the cold mud. "Heard you got three when they tried for the docks."
Holden gave a proud grin. "You heard right. But I heard you came up dry last time you went up."
Tom laughed and hit the wing of his plane. "Yeah. Damn guns jammed on me. Had to fool them into thinking I could fire."
Holden gave a grin and slapped Tom on the back. "You realize that, since you came back empty, you're buying the drinks tonight."
"No, Holden, I didn't know that," Tom said with a sarcastic tone.
Any further banter was interrupted by a load siren. Holden and Tom looked from side to side as men came poring out of the barracks. One of there mortal wing mates, Jeremy, stopped next to them.
"Radar just picked up a bunch of blips heading for a convoy. They're carrying ammo, spare parts and food. If the Krauts sink it..."
"They won't," shouted Holden as the three ran to their planes.
~~~~~
New York
Friday
December 17th 1999
Tom turned from the window to Mariko. "Listen, he's an old friend of mine. I've got to go talk to him."
Mariko gave a knowing smile. "That's alright. I need to get ready for my parents anyway. And so do you."
"Yes, mama," he said in a mock salute before giving her a quick kiss goodbye. He then took his coat and stepped outside.
"I guess the world is getting smaller," said Tom with a smile as he stepped up to Holden
Holden turned and grinned to his old friend, "I'm beginning to think it grows a little smaller with every year." Leaning against a lamp post, Holden drew a cigarette from the pocket of his coat. Pushing some loose wisps of hair back behind his ear, Holden looked at Tom solemnly, "I can tell that the time is weighing heavy on your shoulders."
Tom grinned as he stepped up and clasped Holden's shoulder. "How are you? I haven't seen you since we were in the royal service."
Holden smiled. "Feels like yesterday, I've been well. Trying to keep my head about my shoulders." Glancing over at the woman sitting in the restaurant Holden grinned. "How have you been?"
Tom looked in and then turned back with a grin. "Very well, thank you." He looked up at the gray sky then pointed at the cigarette Holden was holding. "You know, those will kill you," he said with a laugh.
Grinning Holden rolled the cigarette across the back of his hand before putting it between his lips. Reaching in his pocket Holden pulled out a Zippo and flipped it open. "They'll bankrupt me first." Holden rolled the flint a few times before giving up, "No fluid. Oh, well. Ninety years of these things can't be a better time to quit." With a smirk, Holden flicked the unlit cigarette out into the middle of the street. "So tell me Tom, what have you been doing since the war?"
Tom grinned as the two of them began to walk down the street. "I've been living. Or at least trying too. Working at the library, real close to the University. I meet Mariko over there," he said, motioning to the café behind them.
Holden nodded slowly as he listened, "That's good to hear, I've been wondering what had become of you." Holden looked over at Tom as he stopped at the end of the block before looking up and down the street again.
"Well, Post War France was depressing. Met a new friend over there. But, got back to the states to get caught up in the Korean War."
Holden laughed. "Well, at least you keep yourself busy."
Tom motioned down the street. "My apartment is down the street. You want to stop for a drink?"
Looking down the street in the direction Tom motioned Holden raised an eyebrow. "Aren't you forgetting your lady friend?"
"She has to go get ready to meet her parents," Tom said.
Holden nodded slowly, "Well then, have any scotch?"
Tom laughed. "As old as I am."
Chuckling Holden slapped Tom on the back as they started to walk. "Been a long time since we drank together. Hell, last time I remember was just before the mission you got shot down."
Tom sighed. "That's because drinking with you has always brought me bad luck."
~~~~~
Tom topped off two glasses with the aromatic amber liquid. He took the two glasses and handed one to Holden, who was standing in the somewhat large living room. "The first time I opened this bottle was to celebrate with those two crazy brothers in North Carolina. You know, those two loons that built an airplane?" He said as he handed a glass to Holden.
Holden laughed "Ah, what would we do without the loons?" Grinning, Holden slipped his jacket off and laid it carefully over the back of the couch before sitting on the edge of one of the cushions. "So tell me Tom, what's on your mind?"
Tom sat down at the edge of the bed, looking out to the New York skyline. The storm was now flaring up, bright flashes filling the sky. Tom looked down at his glass and then out at the stormy sky. "Been thinking about 'Lightning Dancer', actually."
~~~~~
Virginia Frontier
Late February 1779
How long had he been running? Days, weeks, months? They all started to bleed together. Here he was, the brave solider in the fight for liberty, and he was reduced to a quivering sack of nerves. He had been running since that day in the field, when he had cut the head of the red coat. The weird feeling of energy, the new memories, and the fact that he seemed to be stronger and moving faster still confused him.
That, and the fact that no matter what had happened over the long time since that he had no scars. And that after fighting a mountain cat and even falling from a steep ledge, he was still alive.
He was now wondering through the forest. Tired, hungry. He hadn't eaten anything, really, in five days. His stomach growled loudly. He came across a river and sighed. With no more strength left, he fell forward into the river face down.
He opened his eyes again to find himself along a river bank, washed up on rocks. He felt groggy, could feel the water in his lungs.
But still, he wasn't dead.
He looked up from his rock to see he had company. Perched on the top of the rock and looking down at him knowingly was an eagle. The two just looked at each other for a long time, silent yet speaking volumes.
Until the silence was broken. The eagle turned its head to the forest as three figures emerged. Thomas recognized their dress. Indians. The Eagle screeched out and flew off. Thomas turned to look at the leader as he stepped closer.
Then he felt it again. The itching, burning behind his eyes. The voices in his head. The feeling of nausea. He clutched the rock and looked up to the man. "Who are you?"
He grinned. "Someone who knows more about you then you know about yourself. I'm also the one who is going to show you how to live." He reached out a hand. "They call me 'Lightning Dancer'."
~~~~~
New York
Friday
December 17th 1999
Holden rested his arms lightly on his knees and looked up at Tom. "A good man, I learned much from him myself." Watching Tom pour two more glasses of the amber colored scotch Holden thought back to times past. "I'm sure he wouldn't have wanted things any other way."
Tom nodded. "I would be two hundred years dead if it wasn't for him." He then turned to Holden.
"And you seem to have done well for yourself," Holden said, motioning to the large apartment.
"Well, selling stuff on the Internet has proven to be very helpful. I've sold all those old comic books for a small fortune. But, that money will run out soon."
Holden grinned as he topped off the two glasses again. "Now, why don't you tell me about your lady friend."
Tom smiled and sighed. "Mariko Hashimoto. Here in the states to study American business. But she has a beautiful voice. She'd be much better off as a world famous singer." Tom took another sip of his drink. "She's a remarkable woman. Peaceful and loving." He took a long pause. "And she's a Sleeper."
Holden looked up from his glass to his old friend. 'Sleeper' was Tom's way of saying an immortal that had not yet endured a violent death.
"I'm thinking of telling Mariko about the truth." Tom said.
Holden looked up at Thomas thoughtfully, a friendly smile on his face. "That is a big thing for anyone to understand. Think about how she might react, although I'm sure you already have." Holden leaned back on the couch and sighed. "How long have you known her, Tom?"
Tom gave a little grin. "I've known her for eleven years. But she has only known me for just short of three." He looked to him. "Her father was attached to the embassy here in New York for a while. I met her then, the little dreamer. So full of life. But now I met her here, as a grown woman."
Holden grinned back, "Robbing the cradle eh, old boy?" Taking the glass Tom offered him Holden took another sip and raised a brow. "Good stuff here, you wouldn't believe what something like this is worth."
Tom took a sip from the glass and sighed at the taste. "Hard to believe I bought this for three dollars. But, then, what value would it have if you couldn't drink with an old friend?"
"I would say it'd be worth less then three dollars." Holden smiled as he gently set the glass on the coffee table in front of the couch. "I take it you two are close? She would believe you if you told her this?"
Looking up and over at Tom, Holden shrugged, "I don't mean to sound negative to the whole thing, but you know some people just can't understand something like this. They'll call you mad and run away, I don't want to see that happen to you."
Tom sighed. "She wouldn't be with me if she didn't accept eccentric behavior. I'll not sure if she'll take it at face value. That's what's holding me back."
Holden took another sip from his glass and grinned. "Perhaps you shouldn't tell her." Holden nodded as the slight frown showed on his friends face, "What I mean is, perhaps you should show her. That could be more difficult though."
"I thought we where talking about NOT freaking her out," he said as he put the glass down. "'Hi, Mariko. How was class today? Just wanted to tell you that I can't die. I've been poisoned, stabbed, shot repeatedly, and rammed a German bomber over the channel during WW2. Watch as I plunge this knife in my heart. Oh, and guess what? You are an immortal waiting to be born. Let me kill you so we can live forever together.' I don't see that working." He said in a joking tone.
Holden chuckled lightly. "I didn't say it'd be easy." Lifting his glass and then setting it down before taking a drink Holden crossed his arms in thought. "You said you knew her father, and that her parents were coming to America... does her father know?"
Tom looked down. "No, he doesn't. His coming here was what forced the issue about whether to tell her. Her dad will know something is wrong when he sees me."
Holden nodded slowly, "How do you think her father will react? Perhaps you could tell them both, he could verify if he understood."
Tom nodded. "Maybe." He stood up and topped his glass, bring the bottle with him to top Holden's as well. "I think he'll be able to accept it. I mean, he'll be seeing a guy from eleven years ago who hasn't aged a day. What other explanation can he reach." He stopped. "But I have the feeling I'll have to prove it, like you said. But how?"
Holden nodded and took a good drink from his glass. Shrugging Holden leaned back again. "That I really have no answer to that."
Tom sat down. He was silent for a while before speaking again with a smile. "I just remember how we use to fly over the channel in those Spitfires. That was a wonderful feeling, the flying."
Holden nodded. "Yes quite, makes me wish for days like that again."
~~~~~
Tom laid back in his bed, looking at the ceiling. The thunder still rumbled once in a while, but the raining had stopped. The scotch was thick in his blood. After nearly finishing the bottle, Holden was in no condition to step out. Tom offered the couch for him to crash, which he thanked him for just before passing out on it.
Tom himself had finished off the bottle, remembering the things he celebrated with it. The first flight of the Wright Brothers. His return from Europe after WW2. And his last birthday, a month and a half ago. "241 years old. And I don't feel a day over 115," he said to himself and laughed. He laid back and breathed deeply as he rolled the glass in his hand. It was empty, but he could see the way things looked through the bottom of it. He was about to roll off into sleep when he felt something. The Buzz. The energy was enough to get some of the 'other' buzz out of his system. He reached over to the Claymore sword he kept in his jacket and slowly followed where the buzz seemed to be coming from.
He walked down the hallway of the floor and to the stairwell at the end. Tom began climbing slowly up the stairwell, feeling the Buzz get stronger. Finally, he reached the door to the roof. He slowly opened it and stepped out. The roof had a cool breeze blew over it. Tom brought his sword forward and walked softly around the roof. His mind was still fogged over by the scotch.
He never saw the guy behind him. But he sure as hell felt the four feet of tempered steel slam through his back and come out from his stomach. Tom looked down and held the blade that presented itself out from his chest. He tasted the blood in his throat as he felt his heart stutter, slow and then finally stop. He shuttered and fell limp on the blade.
His attacker sighed as the life and blood of Thomas drained out. He pulled his blade out of Thomas and grabbed the lifeless form and slammed it against a wall.
"This is only the beginning..."
~~~~~
Holden slept deeply. If he had been awake, he would have seen a figure fall down the side of the building from the window. He did hear the crash, and felt the Buzz fly by. Sitting straight up Holden's hand quickly darted to where his clothes were piled and his grasped his sword which was laying on the top. Quietly unsheathing the blade Holden slowly stood up watching the shadows that flickered all around him. He could hear the quiet patter of a light rain against the window and nothing more.
The buzz disappeared, replaced by the same he had felt around Tom. But he was nowhere to be seen. Walking to the window Holden looked out and up. No fire escapes. 'Damn.' Holden thought as he stood in the shadows next to the window considering what to do next. Walking to the front door Holden noticed that it was unlocked and opened a crack. Slowly opening the door Holden winced as it let out a slight creak and let in the bright light of the hallway.
Creeping out into the hallway Holden stopped and listened, wishing he had taken the time to put on his pants. He slowly made his way to the open stairwell, listening to everything around him, then begins the climb up the steep set of stairs.
Standing against the wall in the shadows right beside the door Holden checked his grip on his blade. Peeking out through the door Holden could see nothing but he could sense Tom.
Finally, his eyes found Tom. He was pinned to the wall, two daggers slammed in his hands and his own sword through his chest.
Who ever did this had crucified him against the wall.
Holden stepped over to his friend. He had pulled his friend off the wall and brought him back downstairs to the apartment.
~~~~~
Tom put his hand on the hole in his chest and groaned. "Aw, crap. Holden..."
Holden looked at Tom and nodded, "You'll be ok, who in the hell did this to you?"
Tom coughed. "I don't know. I felt a buzz and came up here to check it out. He came out of nowhere. Being drunk didn't help." He pounded his fist on the floor, though it was a weak blow. "Damn it, I never saw the guy's face. But, why is my head still on my shoulders?"
Holden shook his head. "I wonder the same thing. Perhaps he is trying to show what he can do."
~~~~~
New York
Saturday
January 8th, 2000
Tom ran a few fingers against the walls of his old apartment. They collected a layer of suite from the burned wall.
He brought the blackened fingers to his face and blew, letting the dust fly off. He found it hard to believe that this had once been a quiet, cheerful place. He wished, more then anything, that he could go back.
But, like the old man said, Time points in one direction. Tom kicked a charred pillow from the couch out of the way and saw something shining. He kneeled down and picked it up. One of Holden's Zippo lighters. He sighed as he remembered that drink they had here, remembering old times. And, of course, his mind drifted back...
~~~~~
New York
Saturday
December 18th 1999
Thomas remembered Holden's worlds in his head, 'Perhaps he is trying to show what he can do'. After he had pulled him off the wall on the roof, the two of them had spent the night on their toes, in case whoever it was tried to finish the job.
After day break, Holden had taken his leave of Thomas. After a short nap to rest and let his body heal, Thomas has set out to calm his mind. He couldn't shake the feeling that whoever attacked him on the roof was someone he met before.
Thomas was now meditating in his living room. A large part of the rug had been moved from the floor, revealing a mural of an eagle on the hard wood floor. Thomas sat in the center, right over where the heart would be. He had his eyes closed as he took careful and controlled breaths.
Thomas slowly opened his eyes to look down into the eyes of the mural eagle on which he sat. The same hypnotic eyes he had seem on the river over 220 years ago.
His quiet calm was broken yet again by a small tingling on his neck. Not a Buzz. He was roused further by a knock on his door. He quickly replaced the carpet onto the floor and stepped up to the door eyehole. It was Mariko.
Thomas was about to open the door to let her in when he saw that he was wearing the same shirt form last night. The one with the giant hole in the chest and with blood all over it.
"Will, are you home?" called the beautiful voice from the other side. She was calling him by the name she knew him as, Will Donaldson.
"Yeah, hold on," called Tom. "The place is a mess. Let me clean up real quick." That was a partial truth. Holden and Tom had made a mess after they had gotten smashed, but it wasn't very bad. His shirt was the real disaster.
After cleaning up a bit and getting a good shirt on, he opened the door to let the young lady in. "Hey, how are you?"
"A little worried about you," said Mariko as she stepped in. "I tried to get you on your cell phone, but it seemed like you turned it off."
"Sorry about that," Tom said. "I got a little drunk and the ringer gives me a real headache."
"By the way, who was that guy you where talking to after our lunch?"
"I told you, he's an old friend. His name's Holden." Tom was careful not to tell her just how old a friend he was.
She grinned as she looked out the window to the midday sun. "Are you scared of meeting my parents?"
Tom was slightly surprised by the question. He was kind of afraid of meeting her father. Again. His coming here was what prompted Tom to think about whether or not to tell her about who and what he was, since he would be forced to when her father came. He would see a boy he had meet eleven years ago who hadn't aged a day.
"I guess I'm a little nervous. I want to make a good impression with them."
Mariko smiled back at him. Tom knew that a smile like that would melt any defenses he had. He must have been staring at her for a while because she gave a little giggle and blushed. "Stop looking at me like that!"
"I'm sorry. Your beauty has captivated me."
She gave a big grin as she stepped up and into his arms. "Flattery will get you everywhere with me."
~~~~~
At a small hotel outside of town, a single man sat on an old, ratty bed. At any time and place, he would be both imposing and fearful. He had been both for almost 4500 years. The hardness of those years shown in his dark eyes, but his face hadn't aged since he turned thirty. He had platinum blond hair, which he wore short. He stood an impressive six feet, ten inches, with no traces of fat on his body. He looked like a solid wall of muscle. He had his eyes closed and his hands around the handle of a blade. A massive, frightening blade. It was sharper then any other, serrated near the hilt. The hilt itself was silver and carved with the images of death and tortured souls.
His thoughts where interrupted by a knock on his hotel room door. He placed the large sword on the bed as he stood up and opened the door.
He was greeted by an older man, looking to be in his late thirties. He had thick dark hair which was close cropped on his head. This one normally carried himself with brimming confidence. But once in the presence of this other one, he clammed up and paid attention.
The one who opened the door looked in silence for a moment before speaking. "I ran into our old friend last night."
The new one with the dark hair grinned. "I take it he died slowly."
The platinum hair man sighed with a frown. "Yes, he did 'die'. I just wanted to give him a message. Get him worried." When he spoke, it was with a deep, heavy voice. It was quiet but carried more power to the words because of it.
The other, however, spoke in an annoyed German accent. "What, you just let him go? I thought we came here to kill him?"
"What I came here to do," he said, turning to the German with cold eyes. "Is to have the battle. And he is an old friend. You're just here to finish a job that you where too sloppy to finish fifty years ago. You tell me who has more of a right to him and how we will deal with him?"
The German stepped back, starred down by the others eyes.
"Good," said the older, a grin crossing his lips. "Good, I'm glad we understand. Now," he said, taking a hand and placing it on his shoulder. "I have a chore for you to do."
~~~~~
Tom walked quietly along the streets of New York, watching as traffic ran parallel to his walk. He had to get his feet working again. Had to get blood flowing to his brain again. Had to get that damn scotch out of his system.
After he and Mariko had lunch in his apartment, she suggested dinner. Tom would have excepted that, however, he was a little nervous about the psychopath showing up on his roof again tonight. As a result, he asked Mariko to stop by for lunch tomorrow and that he needed to get some sleep. And sleep he did, like a rock.
Now, it was twilight on New York, and he just needed to get his blood flowing again. If that guy came back, he'd be ready for him. He didn't know how long he had walked before coming to the church. Holy Ground. If he couldn't relax and think here, then there was nowhere to go. Shrugging his shoulders, he climbed the front steps and went in.
High ceilings. Bright lights. Color windows. There was also something else that made this place better then most. Life. Hope.
Thomas took a deep breath as he stepped into the long walkway between the pews and sat near the front. The choir was singing softly while others all around listened and prayed. He himself sat back and listened to the music play around him, surrounding him like a warm blanket. But then the blanket was torn away. The Buzz. Thomas stood up from his pew and looked around for new faces from the ones he saw before. No one new sat in the rows of pews. His eyes looked down to the exit and he saw a figure standing there, watching him.
Tom careful started to walk to the figure and, as he got closer, he could make out more of the man's face. Then, when he was just ten feet away, saw the man step forward out of the dark hallway and letting the light hit his face. Tom stopped dead in his tracks as he looked at the man. The dark hair, the hard eyes and the German features. Tom knew the man well. Lars Reicher.
~~~~~
Germany
June 11th 1943
Two Nazi officers looked through the glass into a small laboratory room. In the center of the room, strapped to a table, was a young man who looked down right tired and pissed off.
"You say you've removed his heart twice?" said one to the other.
"Yes, sir. But each time he just wakes up after a few hours with a new heart in his chest. Not only that, but the scars on his chest from the removal operations just disappear."
The German officer turned back to the patient on the table. "Where did they find this... thing?"
"He was shot down from a British spy plane," can other voice from behind. The two Nazi officers saluted as the Captain walked by to the operating window. "He was taking recon on one of our fuel supply centers when one of our ME 262's shot him down."
"I don't suppose they have any idea why the pilot can do what he is doing?" said the other officer.
The led officer grinned as he removed his cap, reveling his dark hair. "I'll get him to talk."
~~~~~
Thomas stirred out of his semi-sleep to see the door to the operating room open. In stepped a proud German officer. 'Won't be proud for much longer,' Tom thought to himself.
The German officer stood over Tom prone form and sighed. "I am Lars Reicher, Captain," he said to Tom in broken English.
"Didn't they tell you anything?" Tom answered back in German.
The Captain seemed pleased. "Well, that will make this much easier. Now, young man, tell me. How is it possible?"
Tom faked confusion. "How is what possible?"
"Oh, you know. Dying and coming back. Being beaten to death in your cell and coming back. Being shot while trying to escape and coming back. Having your heart removed twice and coming back. How is it possible?"
Tom slumped his head back against the table. "I'm not going to tell you anything."
"Oh?" said Lars with a raised eyebrow.
"No. The worst you can do is kill me, and you can't even do that right."
Lars grinned as he stepped back and waved with a hand. Moments later, five men in medical clothing appeared. "Use all the stimulants you can find," said Lars with a laugh. "and remove his organs one by one. I want him to be awake and aware as he is gutted."
The sounds that filled the chamber where a mix of screams, saws and shattered bones.
~~~~~
New York
Saturday
December 18th 1999
Tom looked into the eyes of the man in front of him. The man who had tried to mutilate him fifty years ago, Lars Reicher. "Well, isn't this an interesting development," sneered Tom.
Lars just gave a wicked grin as he stepped up to him. "I hear that you have had some trouble at your apartment."
Tom sighed. "What do you know about that? You don't have the strength to do what happened. But you are enough of a coward to attack a drunk man from behind. Or strapped to a table, when he can't fight back."
Lars laughed as he walked slowly around Tom. "You should be glad that bomber hit the lab when it did. Taking off your head was one of the next things on my list."
"And the same bomb that let me get out of the lab turned you immortal," Tom said as he slumped his head and sighed. He remembered when the entire lab exploded around him, killing everyone. And of course, the cockroach survived the bomb.
Tom looked up to Lars. "Don't tell me you came all this way just to reminisce and annoy me."
Lars just grinned. "I've just come to town to finish some business. After all, you left before we finished with the experiments."
"Don't tell me you still have hopes that the Nazi will win," Tom said as he rolled his eyes.
"We are the chosen ones," Lars grinned.
Tom just stepped up to him. "I don't know if you realized this, but you are now even more of a freak then before. Your 'Perfect Race' is gone, dead and buried. Now, it is time for you to walk away from it. And its time to walk away from petty things like revenge."
Lars gave a little laugh as Tom turned to walk away.
"You know, your new girlfriend is very beautiful," said Lars as Tom stopped in his tracks. "It would be a real shame if something happened to her."
Tom turned right around and grabbed Lars by the neck and slamming him against a pillar. "You must really, really not like your neck to be talking to me like that."
"Holy Ground, boy," Lars shot back.
Tom snorted and let go. Lars rubbed his neck and grinned to Tom. "Soon enough, you and I will have a settling out."
Tom gave a sneer as he walked out the door and onto the streets.
~~~~~
If mankind needed an idea of eternity, all they had to do was look at the night sky. Someone had told Tom that a long time ago, when he was still new to this game. To think that that mortal understood forever better then he did. But looking at the night sky, Tom had to agree. Eternity right before ones eyes. But, the place that usually calmed him was now giving more trouble to his mind then before.
He had been attacked and impaled on this roof just last night. And now, running into Lars Reicher. Nothing could ease his mind. He thought back to the attack, at least what he could remember. The scotch in his system had made the memory spotty at best. He remembered feeling the Buzz. Then, the attack came without warning. He remembered the speed, but more then that, the precision. Not one wasted bit of energy. Clean and fast.
It wasn't a vicious attack. That part came later when he was mounted on the wall. It couldn't be Lars. Subtle and quick wasn't that guy's style. 'But, then,' Tom thought to himself. 'Who would, could do this?'
Tom had almost kicked himself when he finally remembered. The feeling of the Buzz. He had felt it before, so long ago. The mysterious man who had taught him the sword.
Arcturus.
~~~~~
Siberia
February 20th 1827
Tom tried his best to block one blow after another. The old dragoon saber had held for this long, but the attack from the large man had almost destroyed the blade. That almost became fact when the giant of a man swung down and shattered the Revolutionary War relic right in Tom's hands. The sound of shattered metal and the shower of sparks sent Tom backwards and onto his ass.
The warrior now stood over him, pointing a broadsword to the boys neck. It hung there, silently waiting. Then, the warrior giant laughed. "I guess we'll have to get you a better sword." He offered his hand and Tom took it, pulling himself up from the ground.
"You know, I really liked that sword," Tom said with a sigh as he looked at the pieces all over the muddy ground. "So, what is the next lesson?"
Arcturus smiled. "Oh, you are the kind of student I like. Always getting back up off the ground no matter how bad the landing."
"I only put forward what is put in front of me. I get the best, I give the best."
"Good attitude to have," said Arcturus as he landed a hand on the boys shoulder. "now, about your new sword. I think I have one you might be suited for. It a Claymore, a big sword. But very well balanced..."
~~~~~
New York
Friday
December 18th 1999
Tom sat back in his chair as he remembered one of his teachers. Arcturus. He didn't know if that was his first or last name. He just knew that he was a warrior, right down to his blood. Over 4000 years old, Arcturus never passed up the chance for a good fight. He had a love for life, always fighting for what he believed in.
Tom remembered he had once asked him what he would do when there was no one left to fight. Arcturus just answered, 'There is always someone left to fight.' He laughed when he said he had heard a similar question and answer back in Roman times.
Tom sighed and hung his head. His teacher had attacked him on the roof of his home. But why? Why would he do that?
~~~~~
American Frontier
April 20th 1889
Tom crossed over the hill to see Lightning Dancer sitting on a rock looking out to where the sun had set hours ago. Tom took a sigh as he walked over to his teacher. His mentor. His adopted father. He didn't like what was coming. As he came over and sat next to the old man, Lightning Dancer turned to look at him. Tom could see the age in his eyes. Like he had aged hundreds of years in the fifty that Tom had been gone.
'Lightning Dancer' took a deep breath as Tom sat next to him. "How long has it been since you sat here to watch a sunset?" Lightning Dancer asked quietly.
Tom took a deep breath. "It was the last night I spent with the tribe, about fifty or so years ago."
Lightning Dancer sighed and stood up. Tom stood up as well, coming face to face with his teacher. "You know why I asked you up here, don't you?"
Tom swallowed and sighed. "Why? For the love of God, why?"
Lightning Dancer gave a smile but Tom could see his heart wasn't there. "Three thousand years is a long time. I have dared to love, knowing what would happen. I have seen too many of those so close to me turn to ash. My wife...," he trailed off, remembering the woman he had embraced and lost to time. "My wife was the last one. I want nothing more to do with this curse."
Tom gave a frown. "I can't do this. You're the one constant I've had since the madness began."
Lightning Dancer scrolled. "If you have any compassion, you must set me free."
There was silence for what seemed like eternity. Tom looked deep into the eyes that he had called father. He knew that the resolve of his choice was unbreakable. If Tom didn't do this, he would do it himself. What he wanted was to give Tom the strength to stand. His last gift.
Finally, the moon cleared the clouds of the night sky. Lightning Dancer looked up to the sky, his neck open. "I have always dreamed of this place and time." He raised his arms, opening them wide as if he was going to fly. "Make me one."
Tom felt the tears and, with the resolve that he had left, brought the blade up and swung. It was a smooth motion. Tom felt no resistance as the blade passed through his teacher. He saw that his teacher still had the look of nirvana on his face as he slowly fell backwards.
Tom stood on the rocks, looking up to the moon as it shown brightly on the landscape. He felt the fire on his skin and in his blood as the sound of his heartbeat filled his ears. He found it harder and harder to breathe as he held his arms over his head, holding his sword over his head.
The lightning arced from every direction and cascaded over the rocks and trees. Tom screamed from the pain as the lightning passed over and through him. It all flowed into the blade over his head and back to him. The pain, the memories, the power was more then he could bare and he cried out like a new born from the fire that was burning him alive.
Finally, the Quickening slowed and stopped. Tom fell back onto the ground and hit his head. It was one way of ending the pain in his body as he slipped into the darkness. His hands still clutched his sword, his hands burned as he held the handle.
~~~~~
New York
Saturday
January 8th 2000
Tom stood over the remains of the eagle mural on the floor. The wood in the chest area had been ripped up. He remembered doing that. Tom kneeled down onto the wood floor and placed a hand to cover the murals eyes. The strength and knowledge weren't the only things his teacher had given to him that night. Not a day went by that he wished he could undo it. But, even today, he saves his life and soul. His light, inside him, kept the darkness from overwhelming him. But at such a cost...
~~~~~
New York
Wednesday
December 22nd 1999
Tom took a deep breath as he looked out to the moon. He saw the outline of a jumbo jet cross over it as he leaned against the terminal window. "You are worried about meeting my parents, aren't you?" came Mariko's voice from behind him.
Tom turned from the window back to her. He smiled as his eyes meet hers. "No, I was just thinking about something else."
His mind had been on overdrive for the last week. The attack on the roof was bad. Then, there was running into that Nazi turned Immortal, Lars Reicher.
Now, he was meeting the parents of his girlfriend. The meeting would have been normal, if not for the fact that he had met her father eleven years ago. That man would take one look at him and know something was up.
He looked up to the gate to see the passengers disembarking. He gave a smile as he saw Mariko step forward to an older couple. They gave her hugs and greetings as they started to talk in hurried Japanese. Mariko thought that Tom couldn't understand, but he heard and understood every word. They had asked her how she was adjusting to life in New York, about her classes, and about him, as she pointed to Tom.
Tom's eyes meet both of them and then lingered on the eyes of the father, Katsuhiko. He showed no surprise on his face as Tom presented his hand in greeting. 'Well, that is odd,' Tom thought to himself as the group started back to the terminal entrance.
~~~~~
A single figure watched as a red car pulled away from the airport parking garage. He grinned as he put the scope down, collapsing it and putting it in his coat. "Well, our friend has company."
Lars smiled from his cigarette. "So? Now he has more people to worry about." He stepped up to the figure on the roof ledge. "Are you going to present yourself soon?"
The man grinned as he snatched the cigarette from Lars and flicked it over the ledge.
"He already knows."
~~~~~
Tom gently placed the suitcase on the hotel bed as Mariko sat with her parents. He still found it very odd that Mariko's father had almost no reaction to him. Maybe he didn't remember Tom at all.
"No. That would be good luck. I don't get that," he said to himself as he looked out the window. Central Park had a thin layer of snow on it, making it seem like a painting.
He leaned against the window frame, his mind wondering. He knew that his attacker, the holder of The Sword of Shadows, was out there. Waiting and watching.
Tom felt the slight tingle on his neck. The Pre-immortal buzz.
"Penny for your thoughts?"
Tom turned around to see Mariko with a smile on her face. He gave her a small grin. "With how rare they are, they're at least a dollar apiece. I take it that your parents now have an opinion of me."
Mariko smiled as she leaned on the other side of the window frame. "Well, my mother seems to like you. Polite and all. But my father... He doesn't like me being with you one bit. He says that he doesn't trust you."
"Is that all?" Tom thought out loud.
Mariko gave a disapproving frown. "You just figured that my family wasn't going to like you when they got here."
"I just have the feeling that no one would be good enough for their daughter, especially a foreigner."
"I'll admit, that might be the main reason he doesn't trust you," she said as she stepped over to him, placing her hand on his arm. "But, he doesn't control me."
"But he does give you the money to go to school," Tom concluded. "So, to stay in New York, I have to stay away. If I stay with you, you have to move back. Totally trapped."
"I'll find another way to pay for school, and I can come live with you, right?"
Tom sighed and was about to answer when Mariko's father, Katsuhiko, stepped in. "Thomas. May I speak with you?"
Tom nodded and patted Mariko on the hand before stepping over to her father. Katsuhiko motioned to the door and the two stepped out.
Mariko sighed as she stepped over to her mother, Choko. "Father really doesn't like him, does he?"
Choko hugged her daughter. "I just think he needs to know who this boy is. He says the boy has a look about him."
Mariko then gave a little laugh. "So that's it. He thinks Will is too ugly."
Choko gave a small laugh. "I think we need something to sooth our nerves. I'll make us something to drink."
~~~~~
Tom kept quiet as Katsuhiko lead the two of them through to Central Park. Tom figured that no matter what he said, Mariko's father would just twist it to serve his purpose. Finally, after passing through the park for a while, the two of them stopped. Katsuhiko looks glum as he turned to look at Tom. "I take it that you know why where here."
"You're here to try to discourage me from seeing Mariko. Since that is not going to happen no matter what you say and do, we're here for me to convince you of my worth."
Katsuhiko frowned as he sat on the bench. "You have to realize something, young man. Choko and I want nothing but the best for our daughter."
Tom sighed. "And you don't think I'm that."
"I'm not sure, yet. Tell me, how do you plan to live? What is your job?
"I work as a researcher of American history at the library," Tom said.
"Is that all?" Katsuhiko asked Tom with a raised eyebrow.
Tom sighed. "Sir, what would you like me to say? All that I can tell you is that I will use every ounce of my strength and will to make Mariko happy, healthy and comfortable. I will protect her from any and all things that might come our way."
"Can you really make that promise?" asked Katsuhiko as he shot a finger at him. "Can you really protect her from you?"
Tom paused for a second. "What do you mean by that? What kind of life do you think I live?"
Tom could see that Katsuhiko had just been caught. He stammered for a second, but Tom didn't give him the chance to correct. "There's something else bugging me. You saw me and recognized me and yet had no reaction. Why?"
Katsuhiko tried to back away but Tom was on him. He grabbed him by the wrist and pulled back the sleeve.
It was one of the possibilities that had gone through his mind but, Tom was still surprised to see the tattoo. A dark circle, with twin marks like wings arching out.
The mark of The Watchers.
Tom and Katsuhiko stood in silence before Tom released his arm. "That was why," Tom said quietly before turning back to the man. "Does your wife or Mariko know?"
"No, they don't," he said as he started back to the hotel. "And they won't ever know, because you're going to leave my daughter alone."
"It's not going to be that simple," Tom called out.
Katsuhiko stopped in his tracks and turned around.
"You see, you daughter has already planned on this. She's apparently lined up student loans, and has asked to stay with me. The only way you can split us up is to arrest and deport her."
Katsuhiko then pointed a finger. "They I'll tell her the truth about you. That you're a monster."
"Far from a monster," Tom shot back. "And I had already planned on telling her the truth. That's not a threat to me."
Katsuhiko then seemed to relent. "Then, I beg you, as a human soul. Save my daughter and leave her."
Tom stepped up until he was face to face with him. "I gave you my word that I would protect her. I have the strength and the will. I can make good on my promise."
Katsuhiko said nothing. He made a turn on the heals of his feet and walked away. Tom didn't follow. He instead took a deep breath of the cold air and exhaled a cloud from his lips.
"I'd rather have been beheaded."
~~~~~
Lars sat on the floor, holding his sword by the handle. He had to laugh at how fate played out. All the world had said that what had been done was wrong. That the Nazi's where miss lead. That there was no 'Master Race'. He was proof otherwise.
He grinned as he sheathed his broadsword. Soon, he would go and have his battle with Thomas, the upstart that had escaped him fifty years ago. That he was getting help from this Arcturus person was just an added bonus. Less work for him to do.
He stepped out of his hotel room and into the elevator. He remembered Arcturus' words completely. He was to delay Thomas for a few hours while he arranged something special for him. But he was not to take Thomas's head. If Lars did that, Arcturus vowed he would take him.
"Not that the fool could actually do it," Lars said to himself. "I've gotten enough heads to be a force to be reckoned with. And with Thomas' head, I'll be more then a match for him."
The elevator stopped and Lars stepped out into the streets. Time to settle things.