Legality: MMPR belong to Saban, Highlander belongs to Rysher, all original stuff belongs to me. -Jonesy
The Immortal in question stomped into the bar, splattering rain and mud across Joe's clean floor. "Five Thousand years and you still haven't learned to clean up after yourself?"
"No, and I don't plan to, getting out of work is a tradition that I've held since before you were born."
"I hear it's supposed to rain all night."
They turned as a third trenchcoated figure trooped into the bar, and wiped his feet on the rug. Joe gave Methos a look. Joe took a better look at the coat and looked at Methos. Methos shook his head.
Sam shrugged out of his coat. The rain was horrible tonight. He felt the chill seep into his bones and rubbed his hands together. He cracked his knuckles and took the menu.
He began to read it, and the man with the beard from behind the bar walked over to the table, "Sorry we're a little behind on service tonight. What will you have?"
"Oh, I'm not in a hurry, I'll take whatever you're house special is tonight."
The bartender nodded his head and went behind the bar. The other man, the one that came in before him, stared at him.
Sam turned to him, "Can I help you?"
"Just trying to place you. Did you live in the States some time ago?"
"I haven't lived there for a long time, sorry."
The man looked into his eyes, with a stare that seemed to make it's way into Sam's soul, a look of calculation, collectiveness, and experience. The man walked over and took the seat accross from him.
"Adam Pierson." He stuck out his hand, if Sam didn't know better, he would think this Adam person knew something about him. Not about the powers, not about the strength, but about his age, the loneliness.
The stranger named Sam left the bar a little under a hour later, just before closing time. When the door closed after him Methos walked back up to the bar. "Pre-Immortal."
"Who? Him? How can you tell?"
"The eyes, and I could feel the same aura that other Pre-Immortals have." Methos look down at his feet.
"That's not all is it?"
Methos looked back up, Joe saw that he was looking at something shiny. "What do you have there?"
"Just we he gave you for a tip."
"Just a British Coin that's at least three times as old as you are."
"Clumsy coin collector?"
"Try saying that ten times fast. No, that's not it, he can't be older than twenty. Someone that young wouldn't have something like this."
"In his coat pocket?"
"Well, what exactly are you suggesting?"
"I don't know but. . . I'm going to find out."
"This is the third one this month."
"The press is after us on this head-hunter stuff, Steve."
"I know, I know, is that American here yet?"
The alley behind the "Target Tsunami" Chinese Restraunt wasn't a very pretty scene. Two Interpol Investigators had been called in less then an hour after the discovery of the body.
The two men in grey trenchcoats looked at the body being carted away. A third man in a black trenchcoat walked up behind them.
"Good morning, gentlemen, I'm Special Agent John Davis, F.B.I. I was told to contact Agent Harry Morris from Interpol."
Morris, a grey haired man with a dark blue suit, clashing horribly with his ugly brown fedora, walked into the alley having heard his name. The two men in trenchcoats left the area and started whispering.
It was well known by both Agent Davis, and most of Interpol, that Harry Morris was a drunk. His tie was loose, and his shirt tail was untucked. As he got closer, Davis noticed the heavy circles under his eyes. Perhaps the only reason he still had a job is because of his brother, the Regional Commishoner. As Morris raised his hand in greeting it shook a little.
Davis looked at his hand and then back up at Morris, "Agent Morris, I was told that you know something of these bizarre murders?"
"Yes, I know somethings. My only real lead was a man by the name of Duncan MacLeod, but he left town a couple of days ago. Our men haven't tracked him down as of yet."
"Did he have any friends that are still in the area?"
"Well there is this bar that he did frequent."
"No doubt you know everything about it."
Morris looked at Davis not even catching the insult. "Uh huh."
Joe was not having a good day. What he didn't need right now was this.
"Joe Dawson, I'm Agent Davis, I'm here to ask you about one of your patrons."
"And who is that Agent Davis?"
"Mr. Duncan MacLeod, six foot, black hair, mid thirties."
"Oh yeah, there was a guy like that in here a few times."
"You wouldn't happen to know where his current whereabouts?"
"Didn't think so."
Davis cursed, this was going no where, did he really expect to get answers here? He would send a team up here to stake out the place, but he doubted that would do any good.
Agent's Davis's cellular phone started to ring, "This is Davis."
"Jack, you just got a package from the Director. I think it's important, I'm shipping it by express, you should have it tomorrow."
"Alright, Millie, thanks alot."
Millie was perhaps the one person he trusted besides his girlfriend. Millie had been his secretary since his promotion four years ago.
The woman with short black hair walked over next to him. Ada Wong, his current love interest. He had met her six months ago in his niece's guns and ammo store in Chicago. Not very romantic, but they shared similiar interests.
He always carried his Custom Magnum, it had cost him a pretty penny, but his niece, Rally Vincent, had cut him a deal. Ofcourse there was always tension between the two, Feds and Bounty Hunters tend not to get along, but blood is thicker than water.
Ada leaned against him and thanked him again for taking her with him. Of course he took her for her own safety, as well as his. Davis's promotion had to do with an investigation into Umbrella Incorporated. When he was discovered as an agent he had made a few enemies.
Davis stopped. The man accross the street, he had seen him before. He had short black hair now, but the face and build were the same. The man had sold Rally her Cobra dirt cheap.
The chances of the two even being in the same area, especially out of the country, in such a short period of time were astronomical. Umbrella had sent a spy.
Sam walked briskly down the street, he really liked the bar he had been too, a follow up visit sounded like a great idea.
He pulled his coat tighter and began to cross the street. A six-foot tall, or so, man with blond hair and atheletic build, though hard to tell with a business suit and trenchoat, stepped past him. The man held the hand of an attractive girl with short black hair, she had a foriegn quality about her that made you follow her every move. Her black women's business suit, probably designer, gave her a look of cold professionalism.
No doubt two lovers on their way to some private candle light business meeting for two. Then the man did the strangest thing. He purposely walked in front of Sam again showing off a silver gun in his coat, was he asking for trouble, or warning him to stay away from his lovely girlfriend? People were getting more pushy over the years.
He ignored the brute and walked into Le Blues Bar.
Davis blinked, the spy acted like he didn't care, what was going on here? He took Ada's hand and walked back into the bar.
Methos looked back around the corner, the stranger from the other night, "Sam", went back into the bar, no doubt to collect the valuable he had lost there. Either this kid was a stupid thief, or something Methos couldn't explain.
He put his money on "stupid thief."
Harry Morris didn't have much of a home. His wife had left him two years ago, taking their two kids. His life was patheitc. He came back to his apartment evey night set on getting drunk. Something was waiting for him that afternoon. He had taken off early that day, to get a start on his nightly torture.
He opened the door, half expecting it to fall off the hinges. A man in a black suit sat in front of him. He sat in the high-back old chair that was Morris's only relic of his once great past.
"Who wants to know?"
The man had black hair, slicked back, and his face was lined with age. He had sunglasses on so it was impossible to determine eye color. He had his fingers steepled in front of him and he was staring at Morris.
"Who are you-"
Morris was grabbed by two other men, both in black suits. The man in the chair rose and walked over to the struggling Morris. The man on the left handed him a velevet bag. He reached inside and took out a medical hypodermic needle.
"Stay still, Agent Morris, this won't hurt a bit, at first."
Morris felt the needle slide into his arm. Fire raced through his blood, and his mind began to burn with hysteria. He tried to hold on to any thought at all. His kids, he would never see them again, his children.
"Because, Mr. Morris, you have everything to live for."
Davis watched the spy as he sat down in one of the booths. Another man entered the bar and sat accross from him, probably his partner or something.
Sam reached for his wallet, and stopped. It was gone. His lucky coin, he had had it since his travel back in time. Now it was gone.
"Looking for something?" His coin hit the table. It was Adam from the other night.
Sam sat there looking at his lucky coin. The object that could possibly unravel his farce. How ironic. Lucky indeed.
"Thanks, Mr. Pierson, I was looking for that."
"Cut the crap, kid, or Sam, or whatever your real name is. Who did you steal this from?"
That's a load off, thief indeed.
"I didn't steal this from anyone, my grandfather gave it to me."
"Right, and you just happen to keep it in your coat pocket because?"
"It's my lucky coin."
"There's no such thing as luck, now I want some real answers, I've been around the block enough times to know when I'm being lied to."
This was getting worse minute by minute, let's just see how many times Mr. Pierson's been around the block. Sam admitted using blackmail tactics was pretty low, but what other choice did he have? Sam pressed his hand in his pocket and his Power Coin willed into existance. He connected with it and sent out his probing thought.
It considered Methos for a moment then delved into his mind. Memories, so many, years turned into decades, and decades into centuries, and finally millenia. Adam Pierson. . . no Methos. Five Thousand.
Sam blinked his eyes rapidly as the spell ended. The information was pretty hard to accept. Well he had been around for a while, but a race of people where he was a child. . .
Alright Pierson, let's play. Sam straightened and looked at the man. "Alright, Methos, how much do you want to know?"
Davis winced, if Ada would just stop talking he could make out what they were saying. "Don't you think so Jack?"
Ada launched into another conversation with herself. The spy's partner's face paled visibly, ha, probably afraid of the magnum. Davis smiled to himself.
"What's so funny?"
"Alright, who are you?"
"I'm not about to tell you."
Methos scrutinized him again, and suddenly recognition dawned in his eyes. "I have seen you before. You lived in Angel Grove, didn't you?"
"Well I was there a couple of years ago."
"I mean centuries ago."
It was Sam's turn to pale. The truth was the only way out of this one, maybe Methos could keep his mouth shut.
The two spies left suddenly, the partner of the Chicago spy nodded to the man behind the bar. Dawson was in on it too. Davis made a mental note to notify the F.B.I. to look into MacLeod and his friends.
Davis's phone began to ring, "Davis, go ahead. . . another one? Alright I'm on my way." He looked over at Ada who already had gotten her food. "Sorry, duty calls." He got up and left.
Ada waited until he was out the door. She took out her own cellular phone. "He's on the street. He's heading past point four about now, sir."
This scene was very different. The head wasn't cut off, it had been ripped off. Davis milled around the seen. Blood was everywhere. Davis's stomach was jumping as he continued on.
He knelt down as he saw a deep slash mark on the wall, it wasn't from a sword. Too wide, maybe from the lid of a trash can.
Then it dawned on him, this was a copy-cat murder. The slash wasn't even near the body, but somebody wanted it to look like a bladed weapon marked the wall. He wrote it down in his small notebook and walked out of the alley.
Methos and Sam walked down the empty street slowly. Sam listened to Methos, it felt good to know he wasn't alone.
He told Methos a limited amount about his past and mentioned nothing about the rangers.
Methos looked confused, "Well then just how did you stay alive and how did you know my name?"
Davis walked out into the street. The spies! His suspicion was now confirmed. Pain. He felt burning pain.
His mind returned to him and he saw. A mutated freak, so large, claws so sharp and. . . stained with his blood, wait the brown fedora locked on it's head, it was Morris. He tried to reach for his magnum but the pain was to much.
Methos stopped, "We've got to help him, that thing-" Sam decked him.
Methos lay stil and Sam willed himself into the Green Ranger, "Dragon!" Wind that wasn't there before caused his trenchcoat to flare and snap around him. The combination of magic and technology met in a green aura that then burst out blindingly.
Green Ranger stood in Sam's place. Using his enhanced speed he hurled himself into the creature. Sam heard the cracking of bones as the creature flew into the wall across the street. It didn't move.
He looked over the man, it was the one from earliar with the gun, the chances were astronomical! Some deep cuts to the back, he was losing alot of blood. Sam willed his gloves away then placed his hands on the wounds. The man protested weakly.
Sam let his mind focus and he drew from the Grid. Healing energy ran through him like a cosmic extention cord and seeped into the injured gun wielder.
The bleeding stopped, there probably wouldn't be scarring either. He would be unconscious for a while.
Sam willed his gloves back on and layed back, drained. He focused on keeping his transformation.
"What's going on?" Methos was coming around. Things were going downhill-fast.
The bricks across the street stirred. The creature howled loudly and sprayed the street with debris. Sam winced. He no longer had an offensive weapon. Then the light cuaght his eye.
The man did have a gun. He took it from the holster and aimed it at the raging beast. He focused his remaining reserves onto the weapon.
It started to glow green and the metal shifted into the form of a blade blaster. He flexed his finger then pulled the trigger.
A bolt of green energy slammed into the creature. Instead of blowing a hole through it however, the creature began to glow. The magnum reverted to it's normal form.
Sam lost his tranformation. He was so stupid, he didn't focus attacking energy, his mind had still been on healing the man.
The monster began to shrink and the brown forehead fell off, it was a hat. So it was a man who had been changed into this thing. Sam fainted.
Ada sat across the way watching the whole thing. She seemed near tears and then her cell-phone rang. "Y-Yes?"
"Agent Wong, what do you have to report?"
"Agent Davis is still alive, and we may have a new problem."
"I'll expect a full written report, for now keep tailing Davis."
Ada put her phone back into her handbag and then ran across the street. "Jack!"
Methos blinked rapidly and walked over to the trio. The woman was in hysterics. He helped the dazed Sam onto his feet. The boy would have a lot of explaining to do.
He saw the other figure layed out across the street. He started to walk over when he heard sirens. He took Sam by the arm and they walked and stumbled off.
Joe looked at Sam. "Alright, I promise not to tell anyone, not even the Watchers."
Methos took his place at the bar. "So what are you going to do now?"
"Well I have a brother, one that I would like to meet. I think I'll head back to the States."
Joe offered his hand, "Well good luck, Sam, and stop by if you're ever in the neighborhood."
Sam shook his hand, then Methos's. He walked out of the door and into the world.
Joe looked back at Methos, "So you decided not to tell him about his future?"
"I think he's already there."
Davis took another sip of water, the Director had him in the conference room answering questions about the creature. Then he explained that a green knight came and saved him. He knew he was being laughed at somewhere.
He knew the creature was from Umbrella, they dabbled in that genetics business, so now they were out to kill him. He was close.
Two agents stood at the door of the conference room. The taller man with short black hair leaned down to the woman with short red hair, "Sounds like an X-File to me, Scully."
P R E V I E W
I couldn't believe it! My powers are gone, and already I was beginning to age. My only chance was with my brother and shaman "Dad" maybe they could help. But how was I going to get to them.
These F.B.I. Agents were handcuffing me!
Dana, it couldn't true, to let myself love so foolishly. Now I had to escape Feds, save my family, and save myself with out any powers. This was going to be a long day.