Disclaimer: Neither the characters of Magnificent 7 nor the characters for
Highlander are mine. They are just being borrowed.
THE LOST ONES By: Robin R. Smith
Prologue
Monday, December 9, 2002 12:00 a.m. Denver, Colorado
The southern section of the Warehouse District was notorious for the homeless people that roamed the streets after dark. For the last five years the businesses had been slowly relocating to the north side of town, making it an ideal location for someone needing shelter or just a place to hide out. During the day the police patrolled the area and evacuated the transients in a vain effort to attract new businesses to the area.
After dark it was another story. As soon as the sun set, the people that called the area home would return and reclaim it for themselves. On a normal night, the area would be teeming with life as the temporary residents went about their lives. This was not a normal night.
The streets were eerily silent, the area deserted. There was an almost palpable aura of evil in the air and there was no life to be found, not even that of the rodents and stray dogs that occupied the area. A strange clanging sound filled the air, the sound of steel striking steel. The noise was coming from a large abandoned warehouse that was once the location of a furniture storehouse.
The inside of the warehouse was filled with years of dust and grime. It was not the type of place you expected to find a man wearing an expensive Armani suit. Yet, there he was; sweating, scared, and covered in blood from quickly healing wounds and holding a sword limply in one hand. He knew that he would not survive the night. He was weakening and as soon as he faltered his opponent would take his life. Filled with terror but determined to fight he let out a desperate scream and rushed his opponent swinging his sword wildly. His opponent calmly evaded him and with negligent ease he swung his own sword and cut off the man's head.
The victor threw back his head and let out a vicious laugh that was soon drowned out by the explosions resulting from his victims quickening. A fine mist slowly rose from the body and slammed into his murderer accompanied by bolts of lightening. The quickening went on for several minutes when a shock wave flew outward exploding all of the windows in the warehouse. The sudden silence was deafening and the killer slowly sank to the ground with an expression of bliss spreading over his face.
A chilling voice filled with all the terrors of hell suddenly rang through the building, "Only three more left, then I'll be coming for you old friend."
THE LOST ONES By: Robin R. Smith
Prologue
Monday, December 9, 2002 12:00 a.m. Denver, Colorado
The southern section of the Warehouse District was notorious for the homeless people that roamed the streets after dark. For the last five years the businesses had been slowly relocating to the north side of town, making it an ideal location for someone needing shelter or just a place to hide out. During the day the police patrolled the area and evacuated the transients in a vain effort to attract new businesses to the area.
After dark it was another story. As soon as the sun set, the people that called the area home would return and reclaim it for themselves. On a normal night, the area would be teeming with life as the temporary residents went about their lives. This was not a normal night.
The streets were eerily silent, the area deserted. There was an almost palpable aura of evil in the air and there was no life to be found, not even that of the rodents and stray dogs that occupied the area. A strange clanging sound filled the air, the sound of steel striking steel. The noise was coming from a large abandoned warehouse that was once the location of a furniture storehouse.
The inside of the warehouse was filled with years of dust and grime. It was not the type of place you expected to find a man wearing an expensive Armani suit. Yet, there he was; sweating, scared, and covered in blood from quickly healing wounds and holding a sword limply in one hand. He knew that he would not survive the night. He was weakening and as soon as he faltered his opponent would take his life. Filled with terror but determined to fight he let out a desperate scream and rushed his opponent swinging his sword wildly. His opponent calmly evaded him and with negligent ease he swung his own sword and cut off the man's head.
The victor threw back his head and let out a vicious laugh that was soon drowned out by the explosions resulting from his victims quickening. A fine mist slowly rose from the body and slammed into his murderer accompanied by bolts of lightening. The quickening went on for several minutes when a shock wave flew outward exploding all of the windows in the warehouse. The sudden silence was deafening and the killer slowly sank to the ground with an expression of bliss spreading over his face.
A chilling voice filled with all the terrors of hell suddenly rang through the building, "Only three more left, then I'll be coming for you old friend."