Darkest Knight
Decisions
By Draco664
Author Notes:
A short chapter, before we get to the fun.
Connor rose quickly on rubbery legs, his katana out and pointed unsteadily towards the third Immortal. Ryan scrabbled around for his own blades before assuming a similar stance.
The third Immortal, casually shrugging himself out of the blood and gore stained sheets, stood slightly under five and a half feet, though from his stance, he gave the impression he was nearly five foot wide. His enormous shoulders and arms flexed as he stretched, seemingly unconcerned that he was unarmed. The muscles on his forearms looked almost sculpted in their definition. His glistening black skin had an almost blue hue.
Jennifer glanced at Connor and her husband. "Perhaps you’d better leave this one to me?" she asked impishly.
Ryan spared his trembling hands a glance. The tip of his wakazashi was tracing a figure eight in the air in front of him. "Be careful," he said.
Jen’s grin widened as she turned back to the stocky Immortal, who watched the byplay with interest. "You’d sacrifice your woman to me? How thoughtful."
With that, Jen hissed, and leapt. In less than the blink of an eye, she blurred towards the third hunter, picked him up bodily, and slammed him against the far wall.
Several cracks echoed throughout the enclosed space. The hunter’s eyes widened in surprise and shock as Jen opened her mouth slightly, revealing elongated, pointed teeth. Over his pain, the hunter wheezed, "Nosferatu!"
Jen let her expression turn angelic. "Moi?" she asked coyly.
The hunter’s expression grew set as he dropped into an almost meditative state. Suddenly, Connor clutched at his stomach while Ryan hissed and grabbed the back of his head. Both shared a pain-filled glance before they dropped to their knees. Jen’s scream of pain filled the room.
Quickening, the azure tendrils of arcing energy that is an Immortal’s birthright, raced over the hunter’s frame, burning Jennifer where she still had a grip. With a backhand swipe, the stocky hunter sent the petite vampire sprawling, leaving a burn mark the shape of his fist on her cheek.
Over the trio’s shouts of pain, the hunter stood straight and held his arms high, his injuries healing quickly as he forced his Quickening to wash over his body. With a maniacal laugh, he looked down at the three.
"You could have had this, MacLeod! My master taught me how to use my Quickening! Do you feel it? The pain?"
Ryan certainly did. It was worse than the time he first met Methos. At the time, the five-thousand-year-old Immortal’s aura had overloaded Ryan’s sensitive Quickening. Ryan had almost lost consciousness from the close contact. Even now, with all the dozen heads he had taken since becoming Immortal, Ryan was all but crushed under the weight of the hunter’s powerful aura.
Connor moaned, his left hand desperately groping around for the hilt of his katana. The sensation in his stomach was worse that the day he first met the Kurgan, on a Highland glen, in a clan battle against the Frazers. The excitement and terror of the battle had overwhelmed the pain at the time, and he had managed to stand just long enough for the mighty Russian warrior to stab him through his side.
This sensation though, felt as though the man in front of him was a ball of pure Quickening. Forcing his body to obey, he wrapped his fist around the intricate hilt of his katana and looked up at the powerful hunter. The sight of bright rivulets of energy tracing over the hunter’s skin shocked the Highlander.
Suddenly, the hunter dropped his arms, reining in his power, and grinned down evilly at his audience. Instantly, Ryan and Connor stopped moaning in pain; the former fumbled for his weapons. Connor even managed to rise to his feet, the point of his katana as unsteady as his footing. Instead of standing, Ryan assumed a kneeling position, and closed his eyes in meditation, trying to centre himself.
The powerful hunter ignored the younger Immortal. "You think to challenge me, Highlander?" His expression changed when he focused on Connor’s weapon, a deep frown creasing his dark brow. "Where did you steal that?"
Connor coughed to clear his throat. "It was my teacher’s," he wheezed. "I claimed it on his death."
The hunter grinned nastily. "Ramirez?"
Connor swallowed. "Aye."
Dark eyes glittered. "He is truly dead?"
Connor’s eyes narrowed. "Aye," he repeated, his voice thick.
The hunter burst into laughter. "Then we are brothers, MacLeod. You and I are the last of that pompous fool’s children. I have hunted them all down in an effort to find that blade."
The Highlander swung the blade in a circle, finishing in a ready position. "Come and get it," he challenged.
The hunter glanced down at Jennifer, who was crawling away from him on burned hands, and gave her an obscene leer. "You have a reputation among our kind, Highlander," he said, still looking at the attractive vampire. "Had you accepted our Master’s invitation, you could have been among the greatest of us all."
"What does your master want?" Connor hissed, blinking away the sweat from his eyes and widening his stance, lowering his centre of gravity.
The hunter’s smile disappeared as he turned back to Connor. "He wants the greatest of us at his side, MacLeod. Imagine, an army of Immortals, each of us with centuries of combat experience. Unstoppable, implacable, invincible!"
The Highlander shook his head weakly. "That is not how the game is played," he said.
"The game has changed, MacLeod. I already have a prize. How to use my Quickening!" he finished in a shout, calling forth his power. Once more, blue trails of lightning traced over his frame, sending the Highlander moaning to his knees.
"Yes, MacLeod!" he said in a booming voice, striding forward. "How does it feel to be helpless again? You are nothing compared to me. You are nothing compared to any of my Master’s followers. So much that was lost, we now know. There are over a hundred of us already, MacLeod. No Immortal can stop us. We are invincible! Now, you and your friend will die. How does it feel to be a complete fai- urk" he said, his power flickering off. He looked down under his left armpit, where the hilt of a wakazashi protruded grossly.
The hunter turned his attention upward to face Ryan, who had risen swiftly and silently from his innocuous meditative pose. "Welcome back to the game," the young Immortal whispered into the hunter’s face, before ripping his blade free. The Immortal fell to his knees, looking up at Ryan with a confused expression. Ryan gave the stricken hunter a humourless grin and shook his head. "Sheesh. Fourteen centuries old, and you can’t stop yourself from bursting into monologue. Pathetic."
One swipe, and the powerful hunter died.
Connor groaned and looked up at Ryan questioningly.
Ryan frowned. "What? It’s not like his Master is the only Immortal who can teach you how to control your aura."
Connor shook his head, and gestured up.
Ryan looked up and saw the copper lattice for a quarter of a second before grimacing with remembered pain. "Connor, I think I hate you. I may never forgive you for this," he said, dropping his sword, and tensing up in preparation for what was to come.
Shouts of agony filled the room for the third time in ten minutes, as Ryan absorbed fourteen centuries worth of power and strength.
Three figures emerged from the ancient sub-basement, into the ground floor of the Hudson Street shop.
Ryan, looking rather shaky, groped about in the dark for the wall to balance on.
Jennifer, looking rather bloated, not to mention fully-healed, dabbed at the sides of her mouth with a blood-spotted handkerchief.
Connor, looking rather green, avoided looking directly at Jen. He moved over to the power box and flicked the main power back to the on position. The whole building flooded with light.
Ryan and Jen both winced and covered their eyes with the back of a hand, in almost identical moves. "Connor!" Ryan said in a mock whiney voice.
The Highlander ignored them. "You’re welcome to stay for as long as you like," he said, opening a cupboard and pulling out a suitcase. He set it on the ground and opened it up. It appeared to be fully packed and ready to go. Connor tapped each group of clothing as though marking off an internal checklist.
Ryan and Jen shared a look. "Going somewhere?" Jen asked.
Connor nodded. "Gotham," he said shortly.
Ryan ran his tongue over his bottom lip, blinking rapidly as his eyes grew accustomed to the light. "You sure that’s a good idea?"
Connor snorted, but looked up at him. Not for the first time Ryan wondered just what sort of event could possibly dent this man’s determination. Meteor strike, possibly.
"The Bat can’t deal with our kind. He won’t kill."
"So? Why do you need to go at all?"
"He needs help. When I went to Gotham to challenge Damien, he saved my life a few times. If he needs help, I’ll be there for him."
"Damien?" Jen asked.
Briefly, Connor outlined his previous trip to Gotham. "If an Immortal is changing the Game, your little Haven isn’t going to help. This new Immortal needs to be stopped."
Ryan took a deep breath. "Then you’ll need my help."
"Ryan!" Jennifer said in a warning tone.
Connor just shook his head. "You’re not powerful enough yet."
Ryan raised an eyebrow. "You couldn’t even stand up to our third guest," he pointed out.
The older Immortal turned to face the pair. "Just how did you do that? I could hardly kneel. It felt like I was a new-born Immortal again!"
Ryan shrugged. "Cassandra taught me how to hide my aura from other Immortals. You sort of, well, suppress it. I figured that guy had been taught to do the opposite, make it brighter."
Connor looked lost. "Cassandra? The witch of Doonan Woods?" He frowned for a second, then rocked his head back and barked his trademark staccato laugh. "Heh, heh, heh. I remember her."
Ryan nodded. "I thought you knew her. Duncan certainly does," he said, studiously avoiding Jen’s attempts to get his attention.
All traces of mirth vanished from Connor’s face. "If I know Duncan, he probably knows her very well. I’ve never met a woman he couldn’t seduce. And he has had some odd friends in his life."
"True," Ryan agreed, trying to keep a smile from forming. "Anyway, I tried ordering my thoughts, and concentrated on reading his aura. It was hard, but by focusing through the surging feeling, I could see his age and power underneath it. At that point I gained some control over my body. It was all I could do to stand, but then, that’s all I needed to do."
Connor grunted sourly. "He said I had a reputation. Wonder what he meant by that?"
Jen cleared her throat. "You heard what he said. His master is trying to build an army. It sounds like he want’s every Immortal on the planet as a disciple." She turned to face her husband. "Or dead," she finished pointedly.
Connor glanced at her for an instant before bolting to the front desk. He snatched up the antique handset and started dialing a long string of numbers. Ryan and Jen turned to face each other. "Duncan," they said in unison.
Connor finally finished dialing on the old rotary phone, and waited impatiently for a few seconds before slamming the delicate receiver down. "Get of the phone, ye damned pile o’ haggis," he shouted, his highland accent becoming more pronounced in his agitation.
"If he’s on the phone, then that’s a good sign," Jen offered.
Connor took a deep breath. "Aye. You’re right," he said darkly, and stormed over to the elevator. Ryan and Jen followed in a rather strained silence.
The trio rode the elevator to the next floor. Connor opened the grill door just as a faint buzzing came from one of the bags lying forgotten on the floor.
Ryan bolted over to the bag and quickly unzipped the side pouch, reaching in for the vibrating mobile. He pulled it out, snapped it open and said, "Hello?"
"Ryan! Are you alright?" a panicking voice shouted, audible to all in the room, even four metres from the phone. "I’ve been calling for--"
"Richie? I’m fine. What’s happened?"
"Everyone’s been attacked. Methos is missing. Amanda and Nick have been kidnapped. Mac would have lost his head if Joe hadn’t put three slugs into—"
Ryan took a deep breath. "Whoa, slow down. Are you and Hoa alright?"
There was a pause from the other end. "Thanks. Yeah, we’re both fine. I was with Mac when three Immortals just attacked us. One just tried to kill me, but the other two tried to get Mac to go with them. I managed to take my guy, and Mac took out another, but the third sort of lit up. Don’t know how to describe it. We couldn’t even stand. He was going to kill Mac until Joe appeared. The Watchers are wandering around, scratching their heads and bumping into things. They’ve got no idea what’s going on."
Ryan sighed with relief. "We do. Some ten-thousand year old Immortal is trying to put together an Immortal army, with him at the head. Three guys tried to convince Connor to join their little cause, but we declined the offer. The leader is in Gotham City. Connor and I are going there tonight."
Another pause, during which Jen again glared fiercely at him. "Is that a good idea?"
Before Ryan could answer, another mobile started ringing. Jennifer rummaged through her purse to find the phone, pulled it out and answered. "Hello?"
Ryan focused on his own call. "I’m not sure, but Connor is already packing his bags. If an older Immortal is hiding out there among a bunch of other Immortals, I’ll need to go to identify him."
Another pause. "Ok, but take care. I’ll tell Mac and Joe what’s going on, and make sure the rest of the family are all right. Keep in touch."
Ryan nodded. "You too. Bye." Closing the phone, he looked up at Jen, who had a look of horror on her face.
Ice crystallised in Ryan’s gut. "Jen?" he asked tentatively.
"Grandma. Grandma Terry was attacked."
"Is she all right?"
Jen shrugged. "She’s missing. So is Aaron. And Marcus."
The elevator pinged, and Rachel stepped out carrying a few bags full of fluffy towels. She looked at the stricken expressions of those in the room and asked, "What has happened?"
Ryan looked over at Connor. "He’s targeting everyone. Every Immortal over a few hundred years old."
Connor nodded slowly. "Then they’ll keep coming until we’re either dead or with him." He turned to Rachel. "I think you’d better go and visit some of your old Yale friends. Ryan and I are going to Gotham."
Rachel’s eyes flashed with the same fire as her father’s. "If you think for one minute that I’m leaving you alone to whoever is after you, I’m afraid you’ve got another thing coming."
Watching the pair, Ryan finally realized exactly why Connor felt safe having Rachel as one of his levels of protection. She was snarling like a lioness.
Connor turned to Rachel. "Rachel, please. The rules of the game are being broken. Please, for me, go and visit some of your old friends in Paris," he said carefully.
His daughter’s eyes flashed dangerously, and she took a while in answering, but eventually she nodded sharply in agreement. "Very well, but do keep in touch." She looked over at Ryan. "Both of you," she finished with a motherly smile.
Ryan grinned back and turned to Jen. "You coming?" he asked hopefully.
Slowly, Jennifer shook her head, glancing quickly at Rachel. "Sorry Ryan, but no one from my family is permitted in Gotham City."
Ryan blinked in surprise. "What?"
Jen sighed. "Every time a conclave has been established in Gotham, it has been burned down within days. There is no Master or Mistress of Gotham. I always wondered about that, but after meeting Connor’s friend, I have no doubt in my mind why Gotham City is off limits to us. I’m sorry Ryan, but I can’t go."
Ryan swallowed. Suddenly, the thought of not having a powerful woman at his side made the prospect of visiting a hostile city much less appealing. "Oh," was all he could think of to say.
Jen swallowed, but gave her husband a tight embrace. "But you can. Please, bring Grandma and Aaron home."
Ryan clutched his wife just as tightly. "I promise."