Note: this is based on the RE movie, not the game. In my opinion the movie
came pretty close to the game. The Highlander is set in classic HL, pre-
"incident" with Richie. It never happened at all. I live on the River
Denial actually, Look me up if you come by.
But anyhow, I'm pairing two fairly odd bedfellows together and yet it seemed to piece together..so interestingly. Hope you enjoy it. More should be coming soon, provided my computer cooperates. Feel free to review.
Alice groaned as she woke up. Her entire body ached and the pain was never ceasing. She gently sat up and swung her legs onto the floor. Her feet reacted to the cold floor. She rubbed them together briskly to escape the cold and looked around again. The walls were bare and gloomy, the wallpaper a sad representation of the 70's, when the motel was built. Her bed creaked as she stood up and walked to the worn old dresser. For the last three days, it was the refuge for her most valued possessions.her weapons. She opened a drawer and surveyed her equipment, noting that for the most part she was doing well, but would have to find something to substitute the handgun she had lost in the last scuffle. She doubted she would find anything as well suited as the Umbrella Corporation-issued pistol. Theirs were specially made, more than your average handgun. It was almost as if they anticipated the atrocity.
Quickly dressing in jeans and a tank top, Alice brushed her reddish hair and splashed water on her face. Reaching for a towel hanging on a rack, she was suddenly hit with a rush of pain. She collapsed, hitting the linoleum floor, hands to her head, cradling the images that now flashed in it. Images of Matt, of Rain, the dozens of monsters that marched after them. She had not seen Matt since Raccoon City. At times she gave up, succumbing to the thought that she would never see him again, that he was one of their test subjects now and that she would never see him as he was when she met him. A final flash and she tentatively got to her knees. She held the counter edge for support and stood up, legs shaking.
"You're fine." She said to herself. "You're going to be fine."
She left her motel, locking the door and putting the 'Do not Disturb' sign on the knob. Squinting in the sunlight, she still felt it strange to be waking up to a world of sunlight, an endless supply of rich energy. It seemed to be the only thing uncorrupted by Umbrella. She walked down to her rental car and unlocked the door. Not knowing exactly where she was driving to, she waited before she started the engine. She took out a small notepad that was hidden in the car and looked at the address written hastily on it. 7900 Umbrella Way. How original of them. She started the engine and backed out of her space.
Adam Pierson stepped off the front step and squinted up at the sun. In one hand he held the newly purchased newspaper and in the other, a case of beer. He felt a familiar buzzing and stopped in his walk, about to drop his beer and dart for the alleyway. Oddly, his most important thought was the thought of possibly buying a new case of beer once he dropped the old one and, let's face it, Budweiser didn't use quality bottles like his preferred imported beer did.
"Isn't it a little early for beer?" A voice said behind him. He relaxed.
"I never took you for cryptic." He said, shooting a glare at the Immortal. Duncan MacLeod smiled and bowed his head a little.
"And to your question, no, it's never too early for beer." Methos said, holding up the bag a little bit. "What's it going to do, after all? Kill me?"
They shared an inside chuckle at the joke and MacLeod gave his friend a slap on the back.
"Have you heard the news?" Adam asked Duncan, anticipating a touchy response.
From Duncan's expression, the man also known in the inner circles as Methos concluded that he had not receive the news.
"Amanda's in town." Adam said.
"Amanda. Well, it's been a while." Duncan said.
"Yes, indeed. She called last night, rambling in the thick of night about some horrible flight attendant, bloody death by baggage carrier, then something about bad merlot.. I stopped listening after she called the taxi driver something Mother Theresa would have a heart attack from."
"Mother Theresa is already dead." Duncan replied.
"Yes, a shame. If only she had died fifty years before, she could've spent her entire eternity doing good for humanity." Methos said. He looked surprised when he glanced at Duncan's shocked expression. "You mean you didn't know that she was a pre-immortal?"
"Not at all. You're telling me that Mother Theresa was pre-immortal? How is that even possible?"
"Why not, MacLeod? Mortals have decent lives and then die, why are pre- immortals any different?"
"Maybe she was not destined for immortality, ever think about that? I mean how would a person like Mother Theresa deal with the Game? Lopping off heads every so often can't sit well for a person who dedicated herself to helping humanity." Duncan said.
"You're right about that one." Methos said, nodding. He then noticed that they were in front of his apartment. "Want a beer?"
"Why not? It's not going to kill me." Duncan replied.
"This is serious beyond anything else and despite the oath we take, this is not something we can handle." Westlake whispered.
"Geez, Franklin. Stop with the cryptic message already. What the hell is going on?" Joe Dawson glanced at the door, the shade pulled down, the shadow of the 'closed' sign behind it. The bar was dark, except for the few lights Joe had turned on to light his way as he cleaned.
"A company, Umbrella Corporation. They're mainly in pharmaceuticals and genetic research. They've above anything the FDA or whatever is. They go out of their way to be out of the way. Their research is entirely unethical and their influence, I'm afraid, is worldwide. They're never above testing on humans."
Joe took a long sip of his water. He felt the bland lukewarm taste in his mouth from the melted ice no longer keeping his water cold. He quickly took out a shot glass and poured himself a drink.
"So what's this got to do with us?" Joe asked, not really meaning to sound so uncaring.
"They made the mistake of taking Norman Torres."
"Wait, Normal Torres, the Terror of Normandy back in the 17th century?" Joe asked. "They took down him?"
"Yes and they've found out that some of their subjects just don't die as permanently as their others. They've taken three more in the last two weeks, wherever they can find them." Franklin reached over the counter and pulled up the bottle of whiskey. Pouring a bit into Joe's shot glass, he drank it down. Joe didn't even seem to notice. His white was white with surprise.
"How are they finding Immortals?" Joe asked.
"As far as we know, it's point blank hit or miss. They haven't cracked the code and as far as we're concerned, they won't get any information from us."
Joe swallowed the lump in his throat.
"They randomly take enough people I guess until they find one that has a sword. It's not easy, I can tell you. We should know, you and I, we've been in the business long enough to know that these Immortals can go through an entire city without being seen by anyone."
"Is there any indication where they're based?"
Franklin nodded. "I don't suspect that a lot of Immortals are anticipating who these people are or what they're doing, but to take my oath into account, I can't warn anyone of this."
"That's why you came to me. Because I don't live by the oath anymore and I can put out the word."
"Yes." Franklin said. "The council refuses to talk much about it, they're probably as scared as we are."
"Thank you for telling me, Franklin." Joe said. "So about their headquarters-"
"They're spread all over the place." Franklin seemed nervous. "No indication of where their central headquarters are, but they have headquarters in Paris, Berlin, New York, and Los Angeles. A lot of other places too, but it would take too long to list."
"How come this hasn't happened years ago? How come they didn't discover immortals until now?"
"Good question. Maybe they weren't interested until now."
"What do they do again?" Dawson asked.
"Genetic research. Biopharmaceutical stuff." Franklin said. He shifted in his seat, the red leather stool's leather making small noise.
"Human testing. Who knows what they're pumping into people."
"Exactly."
Alice yawned and pulled into the parking lot of a grocery store. She had never figured herself for a chef, but living on her own, without Spencer to cook every so often, she had learned to cook a decent mean for herself. Without Spencer. The Umbrella Corporation, for all the wretched and unspeakable atrocities they had committed, was once her employer. And she had once blindly accepted their agenda as hers. And despite his eventual betrayal, she could not find it in herself to hate him completely. In the end, Spencer had become a victim of Umbrella too, dying from the monster that they had created.
She shook the thought from her mind and entered the grocery store, holding a bright red basket. She really had no idea what she wanted to buy really, since for now she was living out of a suitcase and a motel. What she needed fresh produce or bread for, she didn't know. She made her way to the produce section anyway, and looked at the green, red, and orange of vegetables. Things she perhaps would never be able to fully enjoy for herself. She was now situated in Chicago, in the city, where traffic had become something like birds chirping for her. It was outside, roaring, day and night and where many would scream and shout and curse it, she appreciated being that close to life. After leaving a place so full of death, she liked being close to life.
She picked up a cob of corn and looked at it's tough green leaves, large and broad, covering the light yellow underneath. She put it back down and left the produce aisle, going to the deli section. Looking at the pre-made submarine sandwiches and fried chicken slowly roasting in their ovens, she smiled at the clerk at the counter. Pointing at a sandwich behind the display, the clerk took it out and put it in front of her. She put the sandwich in the basket and went to the beverage aisle. She took a case of beer off the shelf and turned, ready to leave. She immediately ran into someone.
He looked down at the case she held in her hand. "Well, someone else who doesn't think it's too early for a drink." The man said, smiling a little.
"Sorry." She muttered. She deftly moved away, heading towards the checkout line.
Whoever it had been, she hit him like a truck. She was young, perhaps too young to pass as being legal, but she held with her much maturity. As if she had seen too many things to reclaim childhood innocence. Dressed simply in casual attire, she still held a strange elegance. Her reddish blonde hair was cut simple also and it made Adam Pierson suddenly wish he didn't need an alias.
"Excuse me." He said, quickly grabbing another case of beer and joining her in line. He and MacLeod ended up calling Richie and the three of them cleaned out the small case in no time. "I'm sorry for running into you back there."
"No problem. I should've been looking at where I was going." She replied quietly. She avoided his eyes. Unaccustomed to really socializing with other people on a-well, social level, Alice found it hard.
"I'm Adam." He said.
"Alice." She said. She didn't want to explain why she didn't have a last name.
"Nice to meet you." He said. He took in her quiet nervousness. "Come here often?"
She smiled, to her surprise. It was a joke, but most of all, an observation. She knew that he knew she wasn't the most comfortable. Ironic that while she wanted to much to be close to life, once she was thrown into it, she felt like getting out.
"It's not something I do that often." She said.
"Not a local then?" He asked as she put her small case of beer on the rolling belt. She put the basket under the counter and put the sandwich on the belt also. Giving the cashier a few crumpled dollars she had in her pocket, she muttered a thank you.
Methos was curious. This strange woman had ignored his undeniable charm, his tall and interesting features, and the accent! Who didn't have something for an accent? Apparently this woman didn't. Not crushed at the apparent rejection, he was curious as to who she was.
"You can feel free to hit me if you think I'm out of line." He said. "Would you like to go to dinner?"
Alice looked up suddenly. She had never really had a serious relationship. Her work at Umbrella had taken her everywhere, all over the world, and when it didn't, she had the job of protecting the Hive, with Spencer. No boyfriend there either.
"Uh..I." She couldn't find the words, whether they be amounting to a 'yes' or 'no'.
"Let me guess. Your grandmother just died in the last 10 minutes?" He asked, smiling.
For the first time in seemingly an eternity, she laughed. It was a relief, something of surprise to Alice.
"Uh, no. My grandmother is fine. Um, yes." She took a bold leap, bolder than fighting genetic by-products. "Dinner. I'm-tonight. I'm free tonight." She then realized something. "Or not, if you're busy."
She had never really found herself to be that talkative. She suddenly took in the change in herself. She made it a point to be a little more approachable.
"Not busy at all." Methos said, then made a mental note to unplug his phone and cancel everything with everyone. "Tonight then, Alice."
She nodded. He took down her information and they parted ways.
"Mac, we have a problem." Joe Dawson said as Duncan and Richie entered the bar.
Richie looked puzzled. He sat down and he shook his head at the sight of Joe gesturing towards the beer tap. "Nah, I got plenty of that from being at Methos."
"Me too. What's going on, Joe?" Duncan didn't like the worried look his friend had on his face.
"It's a long story." Joe said, as if growing weary from the prospect of having to tell it. "It goes like this."
A few hours later, Richie's head was spinning.
"Are you serious?"
"As a beheading." Joe said. "This Umbrella Corporation is targeting Immortals now. You two better watch out for yourselves. And Methos too, where is the old bat now?"
"We all left his place at the same time. He went to restock on beer and we came here." Richie said from behind crossed arms on the bar counter.
"So this Umbrella Corporation.. they found out about us." Duncan said. "Great. Two things to watch out for."
"I'm getting news as it comes in from my source. Anything new, I'll let you know."
Duncan nodded. "I should tell Amanda also."
"Amanda?" Joe said. "She's here?"
Duncan nodded. "Got into town last night."
"I guess we should assume Bloomingdales will be cleaned out soon." Richie said.
"Didn't Duncan tell you to treat elders with more respect?" A voice called out from the door.
"Amanda!" Duncan said, smiling with genuine warmth. And dread as to what trouble may catch up with her.
"Duncan, honey, you look the same." She said, smiling. She looked elegant and refined in her black skirt and jacket. Her hair was the same, short, blonde.
"How'd you get in?" Joe asked.
"Really, Joe, you should invest in better locks." She said, grinning. "How are you boys?"
"Keeping out of trouble?" She asked. From the expressions on Duncan, Richie, and Joe's faces, she summed it up. "Guess not."
"You're just in time. There's something serious going down." Richie said. He looked at Joe. "Tell her about Umbrella."
Joe did a double take. "Me? Why me? I just explained it to you two."
Duncan sighed. "Here's the digest version of it. This Umbrella Corporation has been looking for Immortals. They're a genetic research and-"
"Pharmaceuticals. Yeah, I know." Amanda said, nodding. "And their stock is among the highest there is on the market. I've got a few shares."
"You might want to sell now." Richie commented.
"What do they want Immortals for?" She asked, becoming apprehensive.
"Experimentation." Duncan said. "Somewhere, sometime, they got a hold of one of us and found out our big secret."
"What should we do about it?" Amanda asked. She shrugged. "I for one don't have any clue what to do except lay low."
Joe sighed. He took a bottle off the shelf behind him and offered Amanda a glass of wine. She nodded and smiled as he gave her a glass.
"I think that might be the only thing we can do right now." Richie said.
But anyhow, I'm pairing two fairly odd bedfellows together and yet it seemed to piece together..so interestingly. Hope you enjoy it. More should be coming soon, provided my computer cooperates. Feel free to review.
Alice groaned as she woke up. Her entire body ached and the pain was never ceasing. She gently sat up and swung her legs onto the floor. Her feet reacted to the cold floor. She rubbed them together briskly to escape the cold and looked around again. The walls were bare and gloomy, the wallpaper a sad representation of the 70's, when the motel was built. Her bed creaked as she stood up and walked to the worn old dresser. For the last three days, it was the refuge for her most valued possessions.her weapons. She opened a drawer and surveyed her equipment, noting that for the most part she was doing well, but would have to find something to substitute the handgun she had lost in the last scuffle. She doubted she would find anything as well suited as the Umbrella Corporation-issued pistol. Theirs were specially made, more than your average handgun. It was almost as if they anticipated the atrocity.
Quickly dressing in jeans and a tank top, Alice brushed her reddish hair and splashed water on her face. Reaching for a towel hanging on a rack, she was suddenly hit with a rush of pain. She collapsed, hitting the linoleum floor, hands to her head, cradling the images that now flashed in it. Images of Matt, of Rain, the dozens of monsters that marched after them. She had not seen Matt since Raccoon City. At times she gave up, succumbing to the thought that she would never see him again, that he was one of their test subjects now and that she would never see him as he was when she met him. A final flash and she tentatively got to her knees. She held the counter edge for support and stood up, legs shaking.
"You're fine." She said to herself. "You're going to be fine."
She left her motel, locking the door and putting the 'Do not Disturb' sign on the knob. Squinting in the sunlight, she still felt it strange to be waking up to a world of sunlight, an endless supply of rich energy. It seemed to be the only thing uncorrupted by Umbrella. She walked down to her rental car and unlocked the door. Not knowing exactly where she was driving to, she waited before she started the engine. She took out a small notepad that was hidden in the car and looked at the address written hastily on it. 7900 Umbrella Way. How original of them. She started the engine and backed out of her space.
Adam Pierson stepped off the front step and squinted up at the sun. In one hand he held the newly purchased newspaper and in the other, a case of beer. He felt a familiar buzzing and stopped in his walk, about to drop his beer and dart for the alleyway. Oddly, his most important thought was the thought of possibly buying a new case of beer once he dropped the old one and, let's face it, Budweiser didn't use quality bottles like his preferred imported beer did.
"Isn't it a little early for beer?" A voice said behind him. He relaxed.
"I never took you for cryptic." He said, shooting a glare at the Immortal. Duncan MacLeod smiled and bowed his head a little.
"And to your question, no, it's never too early for beer." Methos said, holding up the bag a little bit. "What's it going to do, after all? Kill me?"
They shared an inside chuckle at the joke and MacLeod gave his friend a slap on the back.
"Have you heard the news?" Adam asked Duncan, anticipating a touchy response.
From Duncan's expression, the man also known in the inner circles as Methos concluded that he had not receive the news.
"Amanda's in town." Adam said.
"Amanda. Well, it's been a while." Duncan said.
"Yes, indeed. She called last night, rambling in the thick of night about some horrible flight attendant, bloody death by baggage carrier, then something about bad merlot.. I stopped listening after she called the taxi driver something Mother Theresa would have a heart attack from."
"Mother Theresa is already dead." Duncan replied.
"Yes, a shame. If only she had died fifty years before, she could've spent her entire eternity doing good for humanity." Methos said. He looked surprised when he glanced at Duncan's shocked expression. "You mean you didn't know that she was a pre-immortal?"
"Not at all. You're telling me that Mother Theresa was pre-immortal? How is that even possible?"
"Why not, MacLeod? Mortals have decent lives and then die, why are pre- immortals any different?"
"Maybe she was not destined for immortality, ever think about that? I mean how would a person like Mother Theresa deal with the Game? Lopping off heads every so often can't sit well for a person who dedicated herself to helping humanity." Duncan said.
"You're right about that one." Methos said, nodding. He then noticed that they were in front of his apartment. "Want a beer?"
"Why not? It's not going to kill me." Duncan replied.
"This is serious beyond anything else and despite the oath we take, this is not something we can handle." Westlake whispered.
"Geez, Franklin. Stop with the cryptic message already. What the hell is going on?" Joe Dawson glanced at the door, the shade pulled down, the shadow of the 'closed' sign behind it. The bar was dark, except for the few lights Joe had turned on to light his way as he cleaned.
"A company, Umbrella Corporation. They're mainly in pharmaceuticals and genetic research. They've above anything the FDA or whatever is. They go out of their way to be out of the way. Their research is entirely unethical and their influence, I'm afraid, is worldwide. They're never above testing on humans."
Joe took a long sip of his water. He felt the bland lukewarm taste in his mouth from the melted ice no longer keeping his water cold. He quickly took out a shot glass and poured himself a drink.
"So what's this got to do with us?" Joe asked, not really meaning to sound so uncaring.
"They made the mistake of taking Norman Torres."
"Wait, Normal Torres, the Terror of Normandy back in the 17th century?" Joe asked. "They took down him?"
"Yes and they've found out that some of their subjects just don't die as permanently as their others. They've taken three more in the last two weeks, wherever they can find them." Franklin reached over the counter and pulled up the bottle of whiskey. Pouring a bit into Joe's shot glass, he drank it down. Joe didn't even seem to notice. His white was white with surprise.
"How are they finding Immortals?" Joe asked.
"As far as we know, it's point blank hit or miss. They haven't cracked the code and as far as we're concerned, they won't get any information from us."
Joe swallowed the lump in his throat.
"They randomly take enough people I guess until they find one that has a sword. It's not easy, I can tell you. We should know, you and I, we've been in the business long enough to know that these Immortals can go through an entire city without being seen by anyone."
"Is there any indication where they're based?"
Franklin nodded. "I don't suspect that a lot of Immortals are anticipating who these people are or what they're doing, but to take my oath into account, I can't warn anyone of this."
"That's why you came to me. Because I don't live by the oath anymore and I can put out the word."
"Yes." Franklin said. "The council refuses to talk much about it, they're probably as scared as we are."
"Thank you for telling me, Franklin." Joe said. "So about their headquarters-"
"They're spread all over the place." Franklin seemed nervous. "No indication of where their central headquarters are, but they have headquarters in Paris, Berlin, New York, and Los Angeles. A lot of other places too, but it would take too long to list."
"How come this hasn't happened years ago? How come they didn't discover immortals until now?"
"Good question. Maybe they weren't interested until now."
"What do they do again?" Dawson asked.
"Genetic research. Biopharmaceutical stuff." Franklin said. He shifted in his seat, the red leather stool's leather making small noise.
"Human testing. Who knows what they're pumping into people."
"Exactly."
Alice yawned and pulled into the parking lot of a grocery store. She had never figured herself for a chef, but living on her own, without Spencer to cook every so often, she had learned to cook a decent mean for herself. Without Spencer. The Umbrella Corporation, for all the wretched and unspeakable atrocities they had committed, was once her employer. And she had once blindly accepted their agenda as hers. And despite his eventual betrayal, she could not find it in herself to hate him completely. In the end, Spencer had become a victim of Umbrella too, dying from the monster that they had created.
She shook the thought from her mind and entered the grocery store, holding a bright red basket. She really had no idea what she wanted to buy really, since for now she was living out of a suitcase and a motel. What she needed fresh produce or bread for, she didn't know. She made her way to the produce section anyway, and looked at the green, red, and orange of vegetables. Things she perhaps would never be able to fully enjoy for herself. She was now situated in Chicago, in the city, where traffic had become something like birds chirping for her. It was outside, roaring, day and night and where many would scream and shout and curse it, she appreciated being that close to life. After leaving a place so full of death, she liked being close to life.
She picked up a cob of corn and looked at it's tough green leaves, large and broad, covering the light yellow underneath. She put it back down and left the produce aisle, going to the deli section. Looking at the pre-made submarine sandwiches and fried chicken slowly roasting in their ovens, she smiled at the clerk at the counter. Pointing at a sandwich behind the display, the clerk took it out and put it in front of her. She put the sandwich in the basket and went to the beverage aisle. She took a case of beer off the shelf and turned, ready to leave. She immediately ran into someone.
He looked down at the case she held in her hand. "Well, someone else who doesn't think it's too early for a drink." The man said, smiling a little.
"Sorry." She muttered. She deftly moved away, heading towards the checkout line.
Whoever it had been, she hit him like a truck. She was young, perhaps too young to pass as being legal, but she held with her much maturity. As if she had seen too many things to reclaim childhood innocence. Dressed simply in casual attire, she still held a strange elegance. Her reddish blonde hair was cut simple also and it made Adam Pierson suddenly wish he didn't need an alias.
"Excuse me." He said, quickly grabbing another case of beer and joining her in line. He and MacLeod ended up calling Richie and the three of them cleaned out the small case in no time. "I'm sorry for running into you back there."
"No problem. I should've been looking at where I was going." She replied quietly. She avoided his eyes. Unaccustomed to really socializing with other people on a-well, social level, Alice found it hard.
"I'm Adam." He said.
"Alice." She said. She didn't want to explain why she didn't have a last name.
"Nice to meet you." He said. He took in her quiet nervousness. "Come here often?"
She smiled, to her surprise. It was a joke, but most of all, an observation. She knew that he knew she wasn't the most comfortable. Ironic that while she wanted to much to be close to life, once she was thrown into it, she felt like getting out.
"It's not something I do that often." She said.
"Not a local then?" He asked as she put her small case of beer on the rolling belt. She put the basket under the counter and put the sandwich on the belt also. Giving the cashier a few crumpled dollars she had in her pocket, she muttered a thank you.
Methos was curious. This strange woman had ignored his undeniable charm, his tall and interesting features, and the accent! Who didn't have something for an accent? Apparently this woman didn't. Not crushed at the apparent rejection, he was curious as to who she was.
"You can feel free to hit me if you think I'm out of line." He said. "Would you like to go to dinner?"
Alice looked up suddenly. She had never really had a serious relationship. Her work at Umbrella had taken her everywhere, all over the world, and when it didn't, she had the job of protecting the Hive, with Spencer. No boyfriend there either.
"Uh..I." She couldn't find the words, whether they be amounting to a 'yes' or 'no'.
"Let me guess. Your grandmother just died in the last 10 minutes?" He asked, smiling.
For the first time in seemingly an eternity, she laughed. It was a relief, something of surprise to Alice.
"Uh, no. My grandmother is fine. Um, yes." She took a bold leap, bolder than fighting genetic by-products. "Dinner. I'm-tonight. I'm free tonight." She then realized something. "Or not, if you're busy."
She had never really found herself to be that talkative. She suddenly took in the change in herself. She made it a point to be a little more approachable.
"Not busy at all." Methos said, then made a mental note to unplug his phone and cancel everything with everyone. "Tonight then, Alice."
She nodded. He took down her information and they parted ways.
"Mac, we have a problem." Joe Dawson said as Duncan and Richie entered the bar.
Richie looked puzzled. He sat down and he shook his head at the sight of Joe gesturing towards the beer tap. "Nah, I got plenty of that from being at Methos."
"Me too. What's going on, Joe?" Duncan didn't like the worried look his friend had on his face.
"It's a long story." Joe said, as if growing weary from the prospect of having to tell it. "It goes like this."
A few hours later, Richie's head was spinning.
"Are you serious?"
"As a beheading." Joe said. "This Umbrella Corporation is targeting Immortals now. You two better watch out for yourselves. And Methos too, where is the old bat now?"
"We all left his place at the same time. He went to restock on beer and we came here." Richie said from behind crossed arms on the bar counter.
"So this Umbrella Corporation.. they found out about us." Duncan said. "Great. Two things to watch out for."
"I'm getting news as it comes in from my source. Anything new, I'll let you know."
Duncan nodded. "I should tell Amanda also."
"Amanda?" Joe said. "She's here?"
Duncan nodded. "Got into town last night."
"I guess we should assume Bloomingdales will be cleaned out soon." Richie said.
"Didn't Duncan tell you to treat elders with more respect?" A voice called out from the door.
"Amanda!" Duncan said, smiling with genuine warmth. And dread as to what trouble may catch up with her.
"Duncan, honey, you look the same." She said, smiling. She looked elegant and refined in her black skirt and jacket. Her hair was the same, short, blonde.
"How'd you get in?" Joe asked.
"Really, Joe, you should invest in better locks." She said, grinning. "How are you boys?"
"Keeping out of trouble?" She asked. From the expressions on Duncan, Richie, and Joe's faces, she summed it up. "Guess not."
"You're just in time. There's something serious going down." Richie said. He looked at Joe. "Tell her about Umbrella."
Joe did a double take. "Me? Why me? I just explained it to you two."
Duncan sighed. "Here's the digest version of it. This Umbrella Corporation has been looking for Immortals. They're a genetic research and-"
"Pharmaceuticals. Yeah, I know." Amanda said, nodding. "And their stock is among the highest there is on the market. I've got a few shares."
"You might want to sell now." Richie commented.
"What do they want Immortals for?" She asked, becoming apprehensive.
"Experimentation." Duncan said. "Somewhere, sometime, they got a hold of one of us and found out our big secret."
"What should we do about it?" Amanda asked. She shrugged. "I for one don't have any clue what to do except lay low."
Joe sighed. He took a bottle off the shelf behind him and offered Amanda a glass of wine. She nodded and smiled as he gave her a glass.
"I think that might be the only thing we can do right now." Richie said.