Author note
I am using the original idea behind the film Highlander and ignoring the series. Sorry to all Duncan Macleod fans. For those of you who have seen the trailer for Highlander Endgame some immortals are able to acquire mystical powers.
If you want to imagine what Dracula looks like, I am using the one portrayed by Gary Oldman.
The vampires I am using are from the mini-series Ultraviolet.
"Italics" is deadspeak.
" " is speech, either telepathic or verbal.
Italics is thought
G'Quan wrote, "There is a greater darkness than the one we fight. It is the darkness of the soul that has lost its way. The war we fight is not against powers and principalities, it is against chaos and despair. Greater than the death of flesh is the death of hope. The death of dreams. Against this peril we can never surrender." The future is all around us, waiting in moments of transition, to be born in moments of revelation. No one knows the shape of that future, or where it will take us. We know only that it is always born… in pain: G'Kar
Chapter 1Come
not, when I am dead,
To drop thy foolish tears upon
my grave,
To trample round my fallen head,
And vex
the unhappy dust thou wouldst not save.
There let the wind sweep
and the plover cry;
But
thou, go by. – Alfred Tennyson
USA 11th October 1986
Connor Macleod had taken the Kurgans head and won 'the Prize'. The Quickening lifted him in the air, energy buffeting him, going into him and through him. It was pleasure beyond reckoning while also containing pain beyond measure.
"I know it all" he shouted.
"The Quickening devours me. I know everythng! I am everything!"
Eventually the energy subsided and dropped him to the floor. It took some time for him to understand all the images and knowledge in his head, and the Quickening. Such power, such power! The Life essence, the power and abilities of many immortals flowed through him.
A couple of days later and Connor was having lunch in field with Brenda.
"You want to know if you can love me, and you can. I can live and grow old. Have children" Connor said and took a moment to reflect, he could age and pass on the immortal gene by having children- to further enrich the gene pool. Once he died however, his immortality would re-assert itself and his body would return to being young again. All he wanted now was to live their years in peace.
"What's it like" asked Brenda
"It's like a whirlwind inside my head, I can help politicians understand each other" remarked Connor, or Russell Nash as was his name now., in fact it seemed like yesterdaay that he took the person Alfred Nicholson.
You have done well brother remarked Ramirez. Connor said nothing, and wondered if this was a memory or another 'power' that he would acquire. All Connor wanted to do was to spend time alone with Brenda.
It had been a long time since Connor had truly loved another, except Rachel of course; but she was family of a sorts especially after having recovered her during the Second World War. Connor and Brenda spent their day together, after both had drunk their fill of wine and were replete with food, their lovemaking had been tender and slow. Connor awoke with a start, sweating profusely.
"Highlander!"
Connor had heard the voice of the Kurgan and whirled around and stood in one smooth motion born of years of practice. Ready to face the attacker but there was no one, just a disembodied voice and darkness in his bedroom. Connor surveyed the room again, Brenda stirred but did not wake.
"It should be I not you that won the 'Prize' and subject the world to darkness as Ramirez told you I would"
This was, could not be real, 'The Kurgan' was dead.
"Macleod! Sometimes a Highlander sword may not be enough!"
"Ramirez! I can hear you Spanish peacock" Connor said out loud. Next to him Brenda again stirred in bed, and rolled over. Connor quietly put on a dressing gown which flapped in the breeze he created in his haste. The lounge was dark and quiet, he wasn't going mad.
"I raped your woman and she never told you" taunted the voice of the Kurgan again.
"But I killed you, took your Quickening" Connor thought.
"Yes, but I live on with the dead. I will return to claim your head Highlander"
Connor rubbed his temples, a headache! It felt like a tornado inside his head, like a million voices all speaking at once. He took some deep breaths to center himself, and tried to concentrate on a particularly strong….voice.
"Why did you have that affair?"
"It wasn't my fault" as the noise of the all voices in his head grew again. Somebody had been playing away…tut tut! Thought Connor.
"We must invade"
"There is no choice the oil resources are low". Politicians!A group of the most devious and conniving people to ever walk the Earth, and taking another deep breath the din died down a little as he could slowly start to make sense of the 'voices' inside his head. He got up to pour himself a drink of Brandy, briefly stopping to blow dust off the bottle "1782, a very good year" he mumbled aloud to no one in particular.
"We cannot pay those exorbitant prices any more"
"But to invade for no reason". Connor was about to try and intervene, hopefully to help them understand each other but would first try someone easier to contact…..
"We'll make one" another politician replied. Connor could feel the thoughts of these politicians, and the thoughts of those slumbering, so many thoughts, almost like a whirlwind inside his head.
"You killed me!" Connor heard the voice of a Nazi soldier he had killed many years ago when he had first saved Rachel.
"You killed many of us"
"You were never the Master Race" Connor riposted and tried to concentrate on Ramirez.
"Ram…..…" Connor started to think.
"Murderer!"
"You killed me!"
"You should have died when I shot you!"
"Highlander"
"Macelod! It is I Kastigir. It is good to speak to you again"
"Kastigir. But you're dead" Connor said aloud
"You don't need to say it aloud. It's skinda like telepathy, only of the dead"
"How? Is this part of the 'Prize?'"
"Does it matter? We lived lives most mortals could only dream about"
Then the connection was lost. Connor sat there thinking about the 'Prize', he'd won, actually won after nearly four hundred years!
Connor fell asleep on his sofa in the lounge to troubled dreams.
He awoke hours later to Brenda standing above him.
"Are you okay?"
"I'm fine". In fact thinking on the past Connor had never been good at letting others in since Heather all those years ago, his kinsman Duncan had been far better at getting involved and letting go when necessary. He's dead! Connor was about to shed tears for his lost kinsman and could only feel Brenda's love for him. Mourn late. She led him back to bed.
Connor awoke some time later with Brenda curled around him; although she was not asleep.
"We should go for a walk somewhere, maybe see a show later?"
"Aye lassie we will" Connor replied pulling Brenda closer. Sometime later they dressed and showered and Connor did not hear any thoughts; from either the living or the dead till the following day.
USA 12th October 1986
Early that morning just after the morning rush, Connor was taking a walk to get some groceries for their lunch, hopefully planning on cooking something for them both. New York had changed over the centuries, and he marveled at what the world would be like in another century, or two. He walked and could clearly smell the fumes from the cars, the people; maybe somewhere more rural would be in order he thought. Move away from the hustle and bustle, if Brenda was agreeable.
Connor walked into a grocery shop, maybe a salad? No Connor decided that he would cook a Greek recipe, one now lost to the 'modern world'. Ramirez used to love it. Maybe that is why immortals are here Connor mused, to record history, guide humanity. Slowly he gathered the ingredients required, watching as two 'youths' came in only moments later with robbery on their minds.
He did not need to read their minds to know this, their demeanor was enough having seen it a hundred times before in ages past. Hence the phrase 'cloak and dagger'. They walked aggressively, their faces partially hidden by scarves.
"Gimme the money outta da register" one shouted while pulling a pistol from his coat pointing a 9mm berretta at the clerk. The other reached into his long overcoat to withdraw a shotgun. Connor looked at both, why?
"You. Move over there, lie face down and we won't kill you" motioned the robber with the beretta, while the one with the shotgun looked at Connor and pointed him in the direction of the counter. Both smelt of liquor Connor thought, were wearing jeans with heavy metal t-shirts. Not exactly a good way to remain inconspicuous.
Connor looked the robber carrying the shotgun in the eye. All of a sudden his eyes acquired a sort of dreamy look, eyelids becoming heavy. All Connor did was will him to sleep, a trick Connor had used recently at the police station where Brenda worked. One of the thugs was almost asleep and fell against a pyramid of cans knocking them all over the floor; this act immediately awoke both him and friend.
"What the fucks wrong with yo man!"
"Let's get out of here" the other remarked and made a dash for the door.
Highlander! Ramirez did not reach you nearly enough" was the deadpsek voice of the Kurgan.
"Where is my wife, my children" another voice cried in despair.
"Where is my husband?" Despaired another voice.
"Where am I?I can't see anything" said thevoice another.
"Am I dead?" And another
"Tell my family that I am okay and I love them yet" another voice added to itself to the growing throng.
"I know who killed me"
"The same person killed me the bastard!"
"It was my husband who killed me after cheating with his whore of a mistress"
Connor felt like he was being buffeted by winds on all sides, and was by now clutching his head with both hands.
"Help me!"
I died without telling my son…Connor heard sinking to one knee, the room spinning faster and faster. He felt like he was on a roulette wheel.
"Highlander! You will never be free of me! I will return from the grave for vengeance"
"My bonnie Heather. What is happening to me?" Connor asked despairingly.
"I am here my love" a familiar voice answered.
"Heather?"
"Why did you never tell me your secret Connor?"
"I thought you would leave me!"
"Never! Are you alone now?" Asked the disembodied spirit of Heather.
"Where are you?"
"Highlander! Highlander! Highlander! Better to burn out than fade away!"
Connor sunk to both knees and saw only darkness.
He awoke to the sight of a familiar face leaning over him, the stranger was tall and had brown shoulder length hair and was at this point 'sporting' a moustache with purple coloured shades and wearing a very fashionable Armani suit with Gucci shoes. Connor realised that he was currently laying on the floor in a fetal position; rocking backwards and forwards very gently. He released both hands quickly and quickly deduced this familiar face was not an immortal. All immortals learn about their incredible intuition to discern things they should not know.
"Connor".
"Vlad" Connor reached up taking Dracula's hand, welcoming the assist in standing. He had not seen him since the early 1890's. The popular myths about Vlad were mostly wrong, he could move about in daylight, and had explained to Connor that it was a bit like someone suffering from severe hayfever. No longer was Vlad affected by crosses and holy water, it being purely a psychological affect on behalf of the vampire, although being beheaded and staked was still fatal.
"Thank you Vlad, it's been a long time"
"Are you okay?" inquired Connor's friend.
"Perhaps we could discuss it somewhere else" Suggested Connor, to which only Vlad nodded. They both walked out of the convenience store to where Connor was staying.
Himalayas 1819
He had been born in 1431 as Vlad Tepes and supposed ruler to be of Wallachia, and it was only upon joining of the Holy Order of the Dragon that he had taken another name, one given him by the Turks……..Vlad Dracula. He had been insane in his early years as a human and vampirism, coupled with innumerable physiological & psychological changes had forced an alteration in his perspective………what he had done was wrong. He had been named Dracula, and scourge of all that is evil, a lot of it was 'bad press' being molded by myth & legend, common superstition; and fiction into something he wasn't. Although he knew there had been immortals that made him look like a saint; hard as it might be to believe. One thing was true though, he was ….Lord of the Undead.
All the people Vlad had killed had made him somewhat of a somber character, being regularly wracked by feelings of guilt, remorse, that had lasted many centuries. He had come across a stranger…..Connor, in early 1820 who had changed it all, and now he tried to atone for his crimes.
It was in the Winter of the year of our Lord 1819, during the middle of November that he found himself walking across a bridge which was suspended over a frozen river, the temperature dropping constantly…perishing, if he were mortal that is. He had walked across Europe and into the Himalayas that year, eventually finding a cave to take shelter in as the cold became too much even for him. There inside this cave Dracula had found a magic portal. Next to it was writing carved into the wall, which were written in a language he didn't recognize. His guess would be a script far older than any 'earth born' language; much much older than Egyptian at any rate.
This magic portal had led to another world that contained all kinds of wonders. ……he had briefly gone through but had not tarried long in an unfamiliar territory, although he had marvelled at the beauty of the landscape, rolling mountains and forest before civilisation. This foreign land had contained many races of myth and legend, Minotaurs, Elves and other monsters. He only wished to learn more. One day he would return and master these gates and travel to the depths of hell and beyond; if such existed. And like all dreams it was forgotten in the course of time.
Unfortunately. ………………………
Germany 1820
It was a lovely summer afternoon and the flowers smelt wonderful to his otherworldly senses. The rich, rich smell of roses coupled with mint was simply beautiful. The grass was enticing too, so fresh as he watched pollen float, almost like it was bouncing along in the slight breeze. He could feel a deer in the forest in quiet, enjoying the thrill of running with it's brothers and sisters in wild abandon, a squirrel ran up a tree with it's bounty of nuts to eat in safety. Such life, it's beauty staggered Vlad. He existed to take life.
Vlad leaned over and looked at the redness of the rose at the waters edge, it reminded him that he had not eaten in days; of sweet hot blood pouring down his throat. The redness of his eyes visible in the reflection of the water. No! No! He was not monster, not a monster! He must find another source to drink from, without killing. There had been too much death in his life already…….
He continued to walk, admiring the line of ants carrying their burden back to the nest, of watching the bees and birds go about their daily business; with his vampiric senses all the scents of the forest were heightened, magnified! Vlad was enjoying his meander through the forest and even more to the scenery, at least until he heard a scream.
"Aaaaaah!" followed by a wet sucking noise that sounded like to him of a blade being removed from someone's body.
"No please, please don't hurt me" he heard, it certainly sounded like a voice belonging to a woman pleading for her life that caused Vlad to come to his senses, and out of his reverie. He rushed through the forest with death and blood in his eyes, Vampire strength flowed through his veins as enabling him to jump over branches and side step tree roots on the ground with remarkable swiftness, his feet never even faltered. He overtook the deer, and moved with a speed no mortal being possessed, becoming a blur to the mortal world.
Within half a minute or less Vlad was at the tree line, hidden behind some bushes, enabling him to view his quarry easily without being seen. There were three burly masked men on horseback, scarves covering their faces up to eye level. Bandits! Each possessed a musket which was carried on their left sides in belts next to their swords. His otherworldly senses told him they all needed a bath, and badly! One obviously had killed using their sword for it was held aloft, blood rolling freely down the blade and onto the hilt. He would not need to see the blood to know it was there, the rich smell of iron would be enough to set his taste buds watering. Oh sweet blood!
Vlad looked to his right and they were located just outside of a cemetery, and could feel the power within it; the ancient magics that were veiled to him a short while ago. The three men meanwhile had surrounded a horse drawn carriage, the driver was already dead, a stab wound near his heart. Vlad circled around their position to see if he could help the occupants. The hearts blood was the most tasty of all and even from hear he could hear that the driver had no heartbeat. He found the driver in a pool of his own blood already surrounded the body. He's not a monster. The bandits had pulled a woman from the carriage during this time and were obviously intent on either rape, money, or both. Their actions disgusted Vlad.
He was about to reach forward, and thought better of it; jerking his hand back from the corpse of the drive at the last minute. No, he must not taste and watched the men some more, and yet without his conscious knowledge changed position and placed his hand upon the dead mans chest. Hand now wet with hearts blood, sought to wipe it on something like a leaf, yet Vlad's stare was intent upon his hand. Slowly, slowly his hands came towards his face and Vlad licked the blood from his hand. He gasped with pleasure, feeling the blood give him strength.
"Over there! Someone is watching us" shouted one of the bandits drawing his weapons, aiming and pulling the trigger as a musket ball whizzed past Vlad's head and embedding itself in the tree trunk next to him.
"Loose control my creatures" Vlad willed to the horses, "throw your masters" and watched as the horses reared up throwing their riders. The next instant Vlad surged forward using vampiric speed, an inhuman blur to the mortals watching and grabbing the musket firer by the collar bone and hurled him with all preternatural strength at a nearby tree. The cracking of bones like dry twigs and an odd wet meaty thud as the assailant fell to the floor mortally wounded. Blood pooling.
One of the other assailants drew his pistol and shot Vlad in the back, puncturing a kidney…..his knees buckling while his preternatural metabolism sought to remove the offending item from his body. He reached forward with his hand to steady himself, and turned towards the 'shooter', his human façade falling away to reveal long fangs and blood red eyes. He was not a monster. Vlad roared like a lion and jumped twenty feet landing on the back of his preys, forcing him to the ground. As both hit the mossy floor, he could smell the moss so clearly, such life; Vlad grabbed the mortals neck and broke it as an afterthought.
"No please don't hurt me" said the woman backing away from him. She was dressed in fine silks, and Vlad looked at her unmarred face, sleek lines and defined cheekbones. The dress was customary, all the way to her feet, and she had a black jacket half over one shoulder which must have come off during her tousle earlier. Her dark hair, and green eyes were just dreamy to Vlad, reminding him of the sea with all its tumultuous waves.
He had got carried away again, and could hear the nearness of his other assailant, and barely managed to roll forward in time as a sword narrowly missed his neck. The other man smelt the worst of all, like he had soiled both himself and his clothes a few days ago and just as Vlad turned to face him to draw his sword cane a musket was leveled at him. As the trigger was pulled accompanied by the staccato affect, no bullet hit him though. He felt the breeze as the bullet whizzed past his shoulder and heard another dull 'meaty thud' as the bullet impacted something or someone behind. Vlad had not been the target at all; it had been the woman. The acrid smell of smoke and burning reached his nose from the musket- Vlad did not like flames, not at all.
He regarded at the man one last time, what a mess. His clothes were tattered, sword damaged, both in need of repair while his breath stunk of bad wine, nay vinegar. This was not a man who looked after his tools. Vlad resigned himself to his baser vampire nature and flung himself on the man becoming a blur once again. He dodged two very clumsy sword swipes letting his claws and teeth extend to their fullest; jaws distending and becoming misshapen, and slashed both arms leaving his quarry defenseless. Blood dripped slowly at first and then gushed down his enemies arm, off his fingers onto the floor. He let the man have a moment, to understand that death was inevitable, to realise the futility of his actions. With a careful movement he approached his prey, pulling him close, eyes redening.
He could smell the fear of his enemy, partially of dying, mostly of his unearthly nature. Vlad bit into his enemies carotoid, drinking deeply. The fire, the fire as it burned down the back of his throat, the feel as the victim's blood & heart slowed. But the Lord of the Undead was intent to suck this evil man dry. The body spasmed as Vlad mystically drew all the blood to him, then fluids ripping through arteries and muscle lining as the fountain renewed it's pace. The blood is the life!
He turned to look at the woman, and there was nothing that could've been done, the musket had penetrated her throat. He was sorry she had died and would mourn her loss, and cradled her body in his arms. Dracula felt the presence of another, his otherworld senses could detect him. Whiling, he turned and observed the 'man' who appeared to be above medium height, at least for the age, had brown hair, clean shaven with a slightly hooded eyes. He was dressed as many others wore in this time in coats and shoes etc and carried a saber.
"You butchered these people". Vlad could hear the new arrivals horse 'winney' a short distance away.
"I did not" stated Vlad evenly, "they accosted this woman and her servant"
"A likely story" replied the stranger, with a hint of Highland brogue in his voice. Vlad's otherworldly senses went off the scale looking at this man; he had impossible levels of power! Vlad stood up and made to walk away.
Connor had arrived and it looked like this man, if that is what he was, had killed all the people here. He had blood down his chin & around his mouth. It would appear he had been drinking blood, but what kind of maniac would do that? Connor's otherworldly senses screamed danger at him, and his enemy was certainly not like him.
"Heh heh heh heh. Not so fast".
"If we must battle so be it" said Dracula twisting the handle, enabling him to draw the sword from his cane. Connor noticed the ease and fluidity of movement with which his opponent drew his sword, while releasing his own sword from the scabbard. Connor would not use his Masamune blade unless he really had no choice.
Swords clashed and Connor moved away from another slash at his stomach, and while performing a simultaneous cut at his opponents upper arm. His opponent was very skilled. Swords continued to clash with the occasional spark, and while his antagonist would not appear to be faster, he certainly did seem stronger- something Connor would need to be careful about. Very careful indeed. As the battle progressed he noticed the eyes of the 'blood drinker' had changed. In fact they were now the colour of blood and while this served to distract him, Connor could also sense that they were progressing nearer to holy ground. Combat of any fashion was not permitted there for his kind; no matter whom the enemy was!
Vlad had never fought such an implacable enemy that was so skilled. Except maybe once when he had met a man called Ramirez who had come to execute him, for being a butcher once, such a long long time ago-when he was mortal. Ramirez had beat him soundly and easily and at the last minute spared his life. The nearer his opponent got to the cemetery the greater his 'unease' became, almost like it was painful? There was certainly a reluctance to fight on hallowed ground, and Vlad reasoned that maybe his opponent with the Scottish brogue was evil and continued to take him in that direction in the hope that perhaps it would weaken him; sufficient enough to kill him. He did not know.
For Connor this was becoming intolerable! The 'blood drinker' had obviously sensed that he did not want to fight in the cemetery yet continued to herd him there like a common sheep. What was more Connor was not happy using a Saber that lacked the proper weighting and the cutting edge of his katana. Plus he was getting infuriated which could spell defeat fighting this monster as Connor parried a cut at his leg and counter cut to his opponents head; who ducked and dove forward with a thrust followed by an abdominal slash. Moving backward Connor realised he was on 'holy ground', and managed to get a brief cut on the 'blood drinkers' arm drawing blood. Macleod backed away again and made to circle around onto 'normal ground'.
Vlad needed to end this quick as he could not prevail against this swordsman, he just too skilled. Knocking the saber aside with his sword, he drove forward hoping to unbalance his opponent over and make the kill. Unfortunately for the saber came right back at him, penetrating straight through hisVald's body, and out his back. While he knew this wouldn't kill him, it still bloody hurt and somewhre within the pain an sudden idea occurred to him. Pushing the blade so it went deeper within himself and stepping forward so that he could grab his attackers hand. Oh the irony, the impaler is himself impaled. As he grabbed Connor's hand, he quickly pushed him backwards causing him to overstep and trip, albeit briefly. Taking this opportunity Vlad and reached down and withdrew the errant weapon from his body, wincing at the pain, his blood flowing freely out his body and off the blade onto the floor.
Connor saw this beasts tactic too late as he pushed backward, and executing a yoko kaiten, or backwards roll, came to his feet.
"Now this ends" he said and drawing his katana from his coat.
"Surely a Masamune blade can only harm the wicked and evil." remarked Dracula.
"It should surely kill you then" retorted Connor. His enemy studied the blade intently, eyes still the colour of blood. What was he looking for?
"I am neither evil or wicked any longer . I knew the man that wielded that last, I presume you killed him?"
"Who might that be?" asked Connor, his Highland brogue returning.
"Ramirez was a man of honour when he came for me. He spared me my life. My debt to him will be to kill you"
"Ramirez was my mentor and friend"
"Impossible! If you did not kill him, who did?"
"Somebody called 'the Kurgan'"
"I have heard of him. He made my acts of evil seem like child's play in comparison" Vlad replied and noticed Connor was starting to walk off hallowed ground, his katana poised to fight if needed.
Vlad watched Ramirez's so-called friend, maybe he wasn't evil; but what is his problem with holy ground? Only evil cannot fight there. Surely he must be evil by that logic? Vlad just did not know, but he remembered Ramirez saying something about 'honouring the death of his Japanese wife'. Why he had even mentioned it to him was beyond Vlad. Could Ramirez have forseen this moment?
"If you were a friend of Ramirez, where was his wife from?"
"His wife was the Japanese Princess Shakiko" stated Connor. Vlad listened intently to Connor's heartbeat and detected no change associated with liars. He told the truth & he would not battle this whatever he was.
"Why do you not fight on holy ground?"
"It 's a long story" replied Connor. Vlad knew one of them would have to take a chance and put away their blades and hoped it would not be death this day. He sheathed his sword back into his cane, and dropping the saber to the ground, still covered in his blood and backed away.
"What's makes you think I won't kill you now?"
"A friend of Ramirez would not strike down an unarmed man". Vlad had made a few inquiries about his would be executor later and all reports said that he had been highly honourable. He saw Connor sheath his blade back into his coat, surely that would not fit such an item.
"Perhaps we should talk" suggested Connor.
USA October 12th 1986 (cont'd)
It was this day that Vlad saw that his friend Connor was in emotional pain, and would do anything to help. immortality being it's own punishment of a sort that forces a kind of emotional inuit, or isolation as mortal friends or family die around you. Should other immortal attachments be made, then these should be held onto for the sake of individual sanity. Eternity is a very long time to be alone!
So helping his friend to his feet, they walked to house for some very old cognac, as was their ritual.
Connor could not believe it, he had spoken to his dead wife of centuries past. He walked back into his car and took a deep breath. He had acquired lots of skills or abilities that some consider slightly paranormal over his long life; but communicating with the dead. He needed help, and the only other immortal was dead, maybe Vlad?
"Connor. Connor are you there?"
"Aye lassie I am" Connor replied.
"I don't want you to grieve me any longer"
"I miss you. At least we have forever now" and then Connor lost the connection.
USA 13th October 1986
He had drunkenly introduced Vlad to Brenda yesterday evening when she had returned from work. That was obviously after both of them had been drinking all afternoon.
Brenda showered and left for work leaving Connor in bed. When Connor had showered and made his way downstairs for breakfast Vlad was already up & reading the morning papers supposedly interested in the 'current affairs'. Neither had directly spoken about the incident in the grocery shop the day before, not yet anyway. The phone rang.
"Hi"
"Brenda; what time are you coming home?"
"There's been a mass murder last night in a warehouse. I've got to do autopsies on all ten bodies so I'll be late home"
"How were they killed?" Silence followed.
"Brenda are you there"
"They were all bound and had their throats slit and their brains removed"
"Are you okay" Connor asked, his Scottish brogue coming out.
"I'm fine, just gonna be awhile"
"I'll be here"
"Bye" Brenda said as she hung up.
"Brenda will be home late".
"I heard" His vampire hearing had picked up every word, normally he would not have eavesdropped on Connor like that, but Vlad was concerned. It was not unknown for immortals to suffer mental breakdowns.
"Are you coming?"
"We're going after the killer?"
"Have you got anything better to do this fine day"
"Lead on" said Vlad reaching for his sword cane.
They had been driving around the city for hours and not a hint of anything odd, and it was now leading into night. Both were suffering from mortal fatigue and could do with a break.
"Damn. I really thought we'd find something" muttered Connor under his breath.
"So did I. Let's take a break and try again in a couple of hours". Connor turned a couple of corners and was heading away from the warehouses.
It was around nine o'clock and Connor was driving past a warehouse that he felt something strange; another mind so completely foreign it could not be human. What was he thinking? Alien? Not of this world? His forages into it's mind were spotty at best. He slowed the car down and brought it to a stop. Connor had managed minor amounts of telepathy now and again, but his ability to seemingly enter any mind was a bit unnerving to his personality.
Judging from the area, it was not a very nice one. Looking around it was made up of old dilapidated warehouses, most of which were covered with rust. The one Connor was looking at seemed to quite solid and there were no doors at the front, although there were three stories.
"What is wrong?" asked Dracula.
"Something odd is in that building" remarked Connor pointing., "not human at any rate"
"Are you sure?"
"I'm going to take a look. You coming or are you going to stare at the building all day?"
Vlad did trust his friends judgement. Together they would find out if it was something dangerous or benign, but then again he was not immortal like Connor, he was a vampire. Most vampires wanted to subjugate mankind, as it was now able to destroy itself and they could not live without their food source. He preferred immortals for company anyway, but that was primarily because most vampires considered him as, Liche, undead sorcerer, an anathema, to be killed on sight. He got out of the car with Connor and both walked to the old dilapidated warehouse. It was night-time now, and his powers were at their fullest and reaching out his vampiric senses could feel the humans in there. Amongst them though was another, it's presence was disguised, and Connor was correct- human it certainly wasn't!
"Let's find a gap or something." said Connor. Although this was said quietly it was clear that he wanted alacrity in their actions. Vlad presumed he could obviously sense the other people in there. Vlad could also hear chanting, unfortunately; which in his experience never boded well.
"Eli Eli Eloi Elohim Sabaoth" and so the chant continued.
Vlad found a small hole, at least small enough for both to squeeze through, and chanting was now obvious to both their ears. A dozen people were bound and gagged on wooden crates that formed a circle around one individual. This individual had some kind of dark ceremonial robe on, the hood up holding a large knife with runes on. Vlad couldn't understand what the runes were and he was sure Connor couldn't. The other cultists formed a semi-circle behind the 'sacrifices'.
Connor saw the runes on the wickedly curved blade the 'head' cultist held in inhuman fingers. He did not recognise the sigils at all and sniffed the air experimentally. He could almost smell fish, well octopus to be exact. Out of the centre of the cultist's cowled head dangled an octopoid tentacle. This is not good Connor thought and attempted to probe it's mind again and got fleeting thoughts about enjoying eating the brains and a name, Illithid.
Surely that couldn't be right, but he remembered what Brenda had said to him. He counted ten cultists and looking to right saw Vlad's eyes turn blood red and knew that his vampire ally was about to spur into action. Most immortals learn to mimic animals like Ramirez has taught him with the stag that day on the beach. Connor had practiced this technique with bears, tigers, leopards and house cats, & indeed wolves. It was no longer necessary for the animal to be near. He felt the need for speed and imitated the cheetah, and Vlad moved with his usual alacrity toward the cultist.
Vlad knew they would both go for the Cultist, with it not being human; and so they could free as many people as possible once the situation was more stable. Connor moved and so did he, at the exact same instant. Vlad's nails grew long and sharp like a tigers and slashed a bound person's hands on the way by. The 'octopid cultist' held Connor immobilised somehow without touching him. Dracula jumped straight over the head of the inhuman cultist just as it turned. His reactions were swift and he slashed it across the face; also cutting the cowl to ribbons.
Somehow Connor couldn't move, so he struck back another way. In all his years he hadn't only learnt how to use his physical muscles, as the Quickening offered the ability to master powers some would consider unnatural. He raised his right hand towards the monster, fingers splayed and willed it to burn. The cultist robes spontaneous combusted, and both Connor and Vlad could smell burning octopus. The other cultists joined in at this point to protect their master, surging forward drawing knives from beneath their robes.
Connor sidestepped away from a knife and caught the wrist as it went by with his left hand and did an amorte kyaku or outer wrist break. This threw his attacker to the floor in the process while Connor kicked another assailant. Using a koshitjutsu atemi, aiming for the large quad muscle, ripped the muscle clean off the bone to a sound like cloth tearing. Both the cultists screamed in pain. The second cultist fell to the floor immediately, leg unable to support the weight & went a bright green colour, generally associated with seasickness , and threw up all over the floor. Repeatedly before passing out.
Vlad could not help but admire his friends fighting style, Connor was incredibly well trained, born of many years experience fighting both mortals and his own 'brothers'. In a way Vlad felt sorry for the man, the only company on his eternal journey would be his own kind, most of whom he was forced to kill. It would be laughable if it wasn't so damn perverse! A knife whizzed past his arm and using claws to tear his opponents throat out, blood spurting out of carotoid artery. Bright crimson splashed high in the air. Vlad could not bothered to fight this day, still worried about Connor and his new abilities. He reached into his vampiric skills and drew the blood out of the nearest three cultists without touching them.
Connor saw three cultists stop all of sudden, eyes wide in panic as their necks bulged, ripped open and blood flew out of them towards Vlad's waiting mouth. He'd never seen his friend do that before!
Vlad fed happily, cheeks flushing taking on an almost human colour. After his first encounter with Connor, Vlad had found the taste of miscreants most pleasing. Never again had he taken the blood from any but the deservingly wicked and used his innate vampire mind skills to draw them out into the open for him to feed. Connor was fighting two others and winning quite decisively while Vlad used another vampire skill, and caused the hearts of two other cultists to explode. Their eyes rolled up into their head as their bodies collapsed lifeless to the floor.
Connor knew that vampires and immortals all acquired new skills or abilities as they got older. He had learnt to use his Quickening in all kinds of ways over the years, but always preferred to keep fighting skills sharp; like his sword.
The inhuman cultist was quite clearly humanoid, and had two arms and legs but with a light green skin, its hands had three digits and one thumb all of which had sharp claws, while the head was octopoid with four tentacles that had suckers on the underside. As a result of Connor's magics the body was badly burnt. Vlad wrinkled his nose in disgust at the smell of burnt squid and looking over at Connor; who didn't look very keen on the smell either. He watched as Connors eyes began to water and rapidly covered both mouth and nose with a hanky.
"It's dead" he mumbled.
"Are you sure?" remarked Vlad sardonically.
"I'm sure" remarked Connor who had finally managed to get inside the creatures mind, just before it died. The Illithid's last triumphant thoughts had been "It is Cthulhu I serve" just as brain death began to occur.
Connor looked at Vlad who appeared the happiest he had seen him in centuries; his cheeks were flushed and had enjoyed the battle removing some scourge other. But there was something he couldn't quite put his finger on……..
It was days later that Connor sat in his study, remembering all those that had fallen, both good and bad, he had the Quickening of all the immortals.
Kane had killed Nakano, and Zai Jie had taken the Quickening of Jin Ke. The wizard Jacob Kell had
had finally gone after his kinsman Duncan Macleod in vengence for Connor's crimes, and then killed both Zai Je & Kane, and; who had in his turn been murdered by the Victor Kruger. That seven foot tall killing machine from the Russian Steppes also known as the Kurgan had chalked up quite an impressive kill list. He had beheaded the mysterious Methos, killed the enchantress Cassandra in a garden, and the mage Ramirez hundreds of years ago. These were some of the most powerful of their kind, many of the youger ones had not stood a chance. That was the game for you.