Chapter 1 - The Ark of God
New York 1999
Connor stood by the grave holding the collection of flowers. "I'm sorry old friend", he remarked, eyes full of sadness at the passing of yet another friend. He placed the bouquet reverently upon gravestone. The sky got darker and a flash of lightning lit the sky, followed by a peel of thunder.
"Great rain, just what I need." Looking at the sky imploringly, a little rain never hurt an immortal he thought, continuing to kneel by the graveside. The sudden downpour resembled a tropical rainstorm more than anything else; drenching Connor despite the raincoat, plastering the hair to his head. The immortal sighed, "So long Clark" he said. "We had some good times, though didn't we?" he asked rhetorically knowing an answer would not be forth coming.
Slowly Connor stood as rain continued to run down his face in a torrent, dripping off his chin. His friend had never been human yet he had possessed all the appearance and mannerisms of someone who was all too human; caring for ordinary people a big heart in ways others didn't. He was a hero the immortal reflected sadly, the loss of a great man.
Rising slowly and despite eternal youth, he felt old but not like old people were supposed to, this was different somehow…… not emotionally he reflected, it was more than that – spiritually? He idly wondered whether Methos or Ramirez had ever felt that way despite their overwhelming curiosity as the world had changed around them.
"At least you have the peace I have always craved" he mused out loud.
New York 1939
Professor Jones sat at his desk and thoughtfully stroked his chin with his right hand. Since the Government had taken the Ark of the Covenant, sealed it in a crate and stored it in some huge warehouse there were some anomalous feeling that went with it. He felt bad, not because of the religious implications or anything like that but more to do with them being as paranoid and thirsty for power as the Nazi's and knew it was an accident waiting to happen as they would doubtlessly either kill themselves or a nearby city, wiping it off the map entirely. With the dread he felt, sweat broke out across his forehead. The deaths would be on his hands, his conscience for only he, Indiana, no, Henry Jones Junior had given it to them. But the question was how to get it back? Tapping the desk irritably, building rhythm, tapping harder and harder the angrier he got.
There was a knock at the door and he hoped it was Marcus otherwise it would be a student asking for help with the homework. Groaning inwardly and repressing a shudder of another female student attempting to seduce, or worse yet 'throw' themselves in his direction like they were bait on a fishing line; in the hopes that the fish, 'Indy' would bite. He'd never been interested in naïve girls and had always preferred an experienced woman. What disturbed him more was the last debacle with Elsa Sneider and his Father and suppressed another shudder.
Henry Jones Junior was awoken from his reverie by another knock. "Indy!"
The sound of a familiar voice, one he would recognise anywhere as belonging to Marcus, "Come!" he shouted, glad it was no one else. As much as he liked to pretend to be sociable, he wasn't and preferred to spend time alone reading or thinking almost like dad; he thought and stopped; no, I am turning into my dad!
"Marcus" he said, "What brings you here?"
"Indy" Marcus replied. "I've arranged the meeting for the recovery of that object we….er….discussed"
"Very good Marcus" Indy replied jovially, even though he had asked Marcus to arrange the meeting weeks ago, in truth until this minute Indiana was never actually going to go through with it. "Who am I meeting?" he inquired and saw the way Marcus looked at him, and knew it betrayed worry and concern; and in truth it worried him immensely for it was an incredibly risky action to steal 'the Ark' back from the American Government, but the question was where to store it after?
"A man called David Carruthers at 2pm tomorrow" replied Marcus passing him a piece of paper, "Here's the address", he watched Henry Jones Junior unfold the paper and hoped neither were being duped, but only time would tell.
"Thanks Marcus"
The man known as David Carruthers arrived early for the appointment and sat drinking a cup of coffee, reading the paper intermittently. "Idiots!" he cursed knowing another World War was on the way, all the signs were there unless mankind managed to stop the chain of events that appeared to be unfolding. He'd fought in many wars and most were the same, at least until the First World War in which everything had changed. No longer were you looking the enemy in eye; but using machine guns capable of almost cutting a man in half at five hundred yards, explosions capable of killing dozens in one go. The casualties had been horrendous, this one would be worse, much worse. He was also a little tired having only just recently flown back to America from attending a friends' birthday party in England - Evelyn O'Connell had thrown a surprise party for her husband Rick. Unable to have children himself, yet he marvelled at how much Alex was like his parents, Rick and Evelyn; it was almost like he possessed the best attributes from parents.
They had met in Japan about four years ago searching for a chapter in a book. The legendary swordsman Miyamoto Musashi who was known for the Book of Five Rings, but a missing and hitherto unknown chapter called the Sixth Ring which had discussed the attainment of supernatural powers. While there both had told Connor about their dealings with the Mummy Imhotep, the immortal had been incredulous at first but had eventually believed them.
The sunshine was abruptly blocked which disturbed his revelry. The male figure was wearing a brown leather jacket, brown hat, white shirt and beige trousers which presented a somewhat roguish look – must be a hit with the ladies David thought absently.
"David Carruthers?" inquired the figure adjusting his Fedora,
"Yes I am" he replied and extended a hand in greeting,
"I'm Indiana Jones", and he took the proffered hand, shaking it firmly. Professor Jones evaluated the man sitting at the table. His eyes were set back very deep within his skull and seemed to reflect some kind of hidden strength.
"I was supposed to be meeting Henry Jones and you don't look like him" he remarked.
The archaeologist cracked a half smile which had the effect of making the smile look crooked. "I am Henry Jones" he answered automatically, "Junior. The other you're referring to is my father". David could now see similarities with the man's father who he had known quite well, even resembling a friend of his long since dead. "Sit down" he acknowledged and began to neatly fold the paper placing it on the table. "Can I get you anything?" he asked politely.
"Cup of coffee?" requested Henry Jones Junior. David beckoned the waiter over and ordered two more cups of coffee.
"So what brings you to needing my services?"
Indiana took a deep breath, "I need you to help me acquire a rare artefact" he whispered. "You don't work for the Government do you?" 'Indy' asked, watching for any signs of deception. David showed no emotion and raised a hand to gesticulate. "Let's just say me and Government don't exactly see eye to eye" he answered in a slight Scottish brogue. "What is it you hope to acquire?" The waiter walked over nonchalantly carrying two cups of coffee and set them both in the centre of the table. Leaning forward he took one of new cups. "Thank you" said Indiana to the waiter. "Let's just say it is better you don't know", he said, "For now".
David appeared to consider the comment as the pleasant side melted like butter. "I don't think so", and began to stand. "Good day Doctor Jones" he remarked frostily.
Very briefly he saw something very nasty behind David's eyes, a ruthlessness that wasn't there before, a man not to be taken lightly, yet eyes that also held compassion not a moment ago. Suspecting that negotiation might be necessary he gestured for David to sit. "Please", and watched as his guest sat down once more. "I really want to tell you but it might be dangerous" he said in a conciliatory manner.
"I don't scare that easy. But you have an extremely good reputation Doctor Jones, so why don't you just give me the details"
"So do you" he countered and pulled out a piece of paper which he handed to David. "Tonight at the docks, ten o'clock there's a warehouse. The details are on there."
David had arrived early, like usual, and stayed hidden, a basic strategy proposed by Miyamoto Musashi in his book the Five Rings, and by appearing to arrive late, it allowed the user to scout the local area, find the best hiding places and ensure that no ambushes were taking place. He saw the legendary archaeologist turn around a corner, arriving in the same clothes as before carrying some kind of duffle bag over his shoulder. "I was afraid you were not going to turn up" he said reproachfully stepping out of the shadows.
Indiana breathed a sigh of relief, recognising the voice of David Carruthers. He cast a watchful eye down the alleyways looking for guards of any kind. "I wouldn't miss this for the world. We're in luck" he said, "no guards"
David couldn't see any obvious traps or people laying in wait either and that disturbed him. "So tell me what are we stealing?"
'Indy' replied without any hint of sarcasm, "The Ark of the Covenant", surprised when David showed no outward signs of alarm.
"You are joking right?" he attested. "I mean what kind of idiot would give the American Government something like that?"
Indiana looked almost hurt.
"Please don't tell me you did?"
"What was I supposed to do? Give it back to the Nazi's?" he replied reproachfully, yet his words carried a terseness to them.
"Please tell me you have somewhere it can be stored when we've recovered it other than your living room?" David retorted, and tried to suppress a groan when Indiana walked down a dark alleyway in silence.
They searched for the correct warehouse, both checking the numbers on nearby warehouses, "There!" David pointed jubilantly.
"Let's go". As they reached the side of the building, they began searching for entrances and it was 'Indy' who found the side door. "You any good at picking locks?"
"A friend of mine, Amanda, taught me everything I know" he replied ruefully, "She has a great deal of experience", and pulling a small knife from his pocket began to carefully working on the lock. He gently pulled the door open, "Got it!"
The duo went inside - both were taken back at how many items were in identical boxes. David knew better to ask which box the item was in when Doctor Jones jaw dropped and almost hit the floor. "You have no idea which box it's in do you?"
Indiana tried to hide his astonishment, "What ever gives you that idea?" He looked at row after row of box, "Let's split up" he suggested and began to walk off down an isle until a hand grasped his shoulder. "We're not alone" said David. "Someone is in here with us" He adjusted his Fedora and opening the bag, placed his gun and whip at his side. "How can you tell?"
"It's a feeling, trust me". Both set off down the same row, watching carefully for their pursuer. After the tenth isle they became a little more fractious, impatience getting the better of them. "This is hopeless"
"Rick told me about you" said 'Indy' talkatively.
David looked up abruptly, "He did?"
'Indy' saw David pull up sharply. "It's close". Indiana really had no idea where it was in here and did not understand how David could tell but knew only that he was holding out on some information. Both turned a corner and found themselves facing another wooden box but what set it apart from the others was that it was surrounded by dead animals and the American logo had somehow been burnt off; as though something did not approve of it.
"That's it" said David confidently. Henry Jones Junior suddenly became suspicious of David and was almost ready to reach for his gun.
"Is it heavy" David inquired. It was then their shadow became visible; he was a man about six feet tall or so, quite well built carrying a camera, muscles seemed to bulge inside his suit. Drawing his gun 'Indy' pointed it at their pursuer.
"Come on down" he barked watching as the figure climbed down across the boxes with ease, not even out of breath.
"A reporter?" David asked seeking confirmation.
A deep voice replied, "Yes I am"
"Who are you?"
The deep voice resonated in the warehouse strangely. "Clark" he answered extending a hand affably recognising the renowned Archaeologist Doctor Jones immediately. "What are you looking for?" inquired David shaking hands.
"Proof that the Government is hiding information from us" he began looking around in awe, "And I'd certainly say this quantifies wouldn't you?" Clark asked rhetorically taking snapshots, the flash providing extra light. "Should I ask what you are looking for?" he eyed the duo suspiciously.
"Believe me you don't want know" replied David taking hold of one corner of the crate.
"There are guards approaching" said Clark who had never been one for being loquacious.
Two men in dark suits appeared to find David and 'Indy' dragging a crate noisily across the floor. "What do you think you are doing?" said the dark suited man on the left, both drew revolvers pointing them at the trio. "Come one" shouted David in exasperation. Both were out of breath and red in the face.
Another appeared behind the men in dark suits, but he seemed far more sinister carrying an 'air' of death around him like a suit of armour. One of the Government agents turned around, "What the?" he exclaimed, never completing the sentence as a two foot blade speared him through the chest, blood dripped from the corner of his mouth. The Agent began to slump, his hands sought furiously to grasp the assailant in an attempt to stay upright and prevent the blade from penetrating more deeply into his chest, a futile gesture, only to slump to the floor dying in an ever growing pool of blood.
The second agent turned around quickly, unfortunately it was still too slow as another blade appeared from the sinister mans other sleeve, embedding itself through his skull. The dark man stepped forward to reveal his sinister inhuman visage. Where flesh should be there was metal, dark and foreboding; and where eyes should reside there was only dark glass like two monocles staring out at the world.
"A robot?" exclaimed David. Another stepped impossibly from the shadows, to stand behind the 'steel man'. He was as bald as an egg with a dark bushy beard in long flowing robes like a magician. "I will take the Ark of the Covenant" commanded the bald man.
Indiana took a half step. "Over my dead body" he disputed. "It leaves here with us"
The bald man laughed, "Its shame the Fuhrer does not share your sentiments"
"Nazi's" exclaimed the Archaeologist, "I hate you guys!"
"Kill them!"
The 'steel man' walked forward with the grace of a dancer towards Doctor Jones who shot him between the eyes with his revolver. The shot had no effect as the bullet bounced off steel.
He was intercepted by David Carruthers who reached inside his jacket to reveal a wickedly sharp Katana. "I don't think so" he challenged. The 'steel man' swung his steel blades with amazing skill, as metal clashed and sparks flew but no matter what he did or how hard he tried a Masumune blade blocked his every move.
"No this is impossible!" exclaimed the 'bald man' as David kicked the 'steel man' in chest; knocking him sprawling to the floor in a clatter of steel limbs.
"I take it you would be Rasputin" acknowledged David, "and your lackey here is Karl Kroenen?" A friend of his, Trevor Bruttenholm, had encountered them previously, both having been involved in the Occult Wars against Hitler. A dozen other men streamed past Rasputin all holding firearms, one who shot David directly in the chest, a perfect shot through the heart. Blood appeared on his chest and back, but he did not fall. "I have a hard time dying"
Clark did not like the situation at all, but whoever these 'thieves' were, it was better than letting Nazi's get their 'Prize'. To others he appeared human, but originating from a 10 gravity world and now living on a one gravity world made him far stronger and faster than normal humans. His maximum speed was about 120 mph, but in this confined space managed sixty.
Both 'Indy' and David saw the flesh on Clark's face ripple like water on a lake, as bullets impacted with a harder object, squashed flat, only to drop to the floor, useless.
"Ow!" shouted Clark in annoyance, for despite his skin being tougher and thicker than normal humans it still hurt when he got shot; for humans it would translate to being slapped incredibly hard.
"Can you pick that up?" asked 'Indy' quickly looking at the crate with a huge burn mark on. What Clark thought he meant was can you carry it on your own to which the answer would yes, unless it was made of some kind of ultra-dense material; what Indiana actually meant was would you help me carry it, and so was flabbergasted when this reporter picked the object above his head like a sack of potatoes.
Indiana let off several shots, watching as Nazi's dropped with each rapport of his pistol. When the gun was empty, he placed the revolver in its holster. The whip cracked louder than any gunshot, snaring Rasputin around the wrist. David moved around Clark and let loose with a serious of blistering attacks both unarmed and with the Katana, cutting Nazi's to pieces, attacking with a speed and ferocity born of decades of dedication. Rasputin knew he could not win this one and backed into a shadow as Indiana's whip fell to the floor; vanishing to even Clark's para-human vision.
Karl Kroenen tried once more to stand up to the onslaught and failed, losing an arm in the process and decided to use another soldier who came to help as an opportunity to escape into the night.
An hour later they arrived at his home. David had not wanted to show them the hidden rooms but had no choice if he was to hide the Ark of the Covenant safely. Behind a false wall which led to another anteroom full of personal effects, and further back was another room as yet empty which was where the Ark was placed. The Archaeologist had told them what he knew about the powerful artefact and how it had wiped the Nazi's off the face of the Earth when it was opened, both were slightly sceptical however, and yet were taken back by the detail given.
Both Indiana and Clark had taken the opportunity to examine the photos and had been told that they were "Family portraits". 'Indy' remained doubtful but looked more closely; it being impossible for so many members of his family looked identical. It cannot be he thought, but Clark voiced his thoughts out loud, "They're all the same person".
"It is, as though he's lived a dozen lifetimes" the Archaeologist replied, "But I could ask a similar question of you lifting hundreds of pounds above your head like that".
Clark fell silent.
"Who are you both? What are you both?" Indiana asked. "You were shot through the heart" he remarked pointing at David and walked towards him, and quickly ripped the shirt open to expose a perfectly healed chest, any wounds long since healed. "These are not family portraits, they're off you!" he seethed. "Tell me I'm wrong!"
The man that was David Carruthers sighed audibly. "It's true. What do you know of Scottish Highland legends?"
"What has that to do with you?" he inquired, "Which one specifically? There are lots, most with no basis in fact"
"There is one about a man who could not die".
On familiar ground he smiled, "Aaaah that old fable about a man from Glenfinnan who was supposedly killed in battle but did not die, about 1530 I think?"
David Carruthers smiled, "Not bad" he answered. "1536 actually" he corrected.
"My name is Connor Macleod I was born in Glenfinnan on the shores of Loch Shiel in 1518 and I cannot die"
"Similar to Jesus?" asked Clark remembering his early school years.
"Heh, heh, heh. Jesus was an immortal but not one of us, goes by the name of John nowadays, I think" he answered having met the immortal Cro-Magnon who was even older than Methos, he was supposedly born about 14,000 years old or more. Methos and John had both been disciplines of Buddha. He had thought about it for a few hundred years and his message misinterpreted and changed by Church until modern day Christianity had come about, a sore point with the Ancient.
Thinking he was joking eventually realised Connor wasn't. This truth would have destroyed his father, who fervently believed Jesus was the son of god, luckily he was a little more flexible however. "You're serious, he's still around?"
Clark seemed somewhat perplexed and sought to confirm the apparently obvious again. "All these are you though?" he asked
Connor looked at all the pictures, many fond memories, yet tinged with pain, loss. "Yes they are. Would it surprise you know much of history is wrong?"
It was Indiana who turned around feeling a sense of wonder, a man who was actually there, it was dizzying. "History is written by the Conquerors, but you're referring to something more personal"
"For instance I was in Japan in the 16th Century" he said matter-of-factly, and took his Masamune blade out of his jacket. "This" he said, "Was created in 593 BC"
Clark who had studied very hard as a child knew that should be impossible, humans did not possess the technology to forge folded blades until far later. "That is impossible" he said.
"This was given to me by my mentor Tak Ne who was born in 896 BC and tutored me under the name of Juan Sanchez Villa-Lobos Ramirez". Again on familiar ground 'Indy knew that name as a Chief Metallurgist King Charles V.
Connor looked at Clark and walked to a table and pulled a dusty bottle from a rack which he opened. He poured three glasses of brandy and used this opportunity to change topics, passing each a glass. 'Indy' took a sip, "Smooth" he remarked.
"I should hope so" said Connor, "it's about two hundred years old".
Having never drunk any alcohol this old Clark was determined not to rush it and let his enhanced sense of taste savour the old brandy.
"May I?" asked 'Indy'. He took the proffered bottle from the immortal, examining it with a practiced archaeological eye. "This is amazing" he said garrulously. "I've never seen so many priceless artefacts in one room. These belong in a museum".
Connor took another sip of decent brandy, letting the dark liquid roll down his throat. "Not likely, left to rot by a bunch overstuffed librarians in suits".
Clark smiled at the analogy.
"So tell me how you were able to carry such a weight above your head?" Connor asked deciding to change topic.
Clark who knew his time had come, "Like you I share a secret heritage. I am from the planet Krypton and my name is Kal-El", and he explained all about his home exploding and his subsequent journey to Earth.
"Wait a minute" said 'Indy', "I recognise that name"
"Someone learnt my secret once, misunderstood my explanations and all kinds of nonsense arose" enunciated Clark. "That the Earth's sun gave me strength, endowed me ridiculous feats, and that damnable costume", smiled the Kryptonian glad to eventually share his secret with people who would remain silent. "Those infernal comics" cursed Clark. "They have a lot to answer for. You have no idea what I went through" he said, and the saw the sadness in Connor's eyes. "Maybe you do"
"Aren't you supposed to able to fly?" jibed Connor good-naturedly.
Clark shook his head sadly and explained that Earth was a one gravity world whereas Krypton was a ten gravity world. Therefore he would appear to be ten times stronger and faster here. He then went onto to explain that on his home planet of Krypton, humans would be unable to stand, barely able to crawl. Kal-El explained that is why he appeared to be bullet-proof, thickened skin able to withstand greater amounts of damage.
"So where most humans can jump three or four feet high, and with a huge run maybe manage a long jump of fifteen to twenty; now times that by ten – that's why people thought I could fly". Both Connor and Indiana nodded sagely taking in all the details. He further explained he possessed a form of levitation which coupled with his jumping ability led to flying stories.
After hearing all this Indiana felt positively redundant in the room, Connor piped up as though reading his mind, "From what I know of your adventures most mortals would be long dead; somebody up there sure likes you" Connor said reassuringly. Indiana wasn't sure what to be more worried about, that he was in room with an immortal and an alien or that some Deity was looking out for him.
Clark turned to Connor, "Count your self lucky no one wrote about your life" he said.
Secret Government Lab 1998
Doctor Theodore Morris was working on the remains of the Kryptonian attempting to create some kind of super soldier for the Government, one of his rivals Maggie Walsh was attempting to do the same in Sunnydale using the DNA of pre-humanoid life. He had little time to give it much thought, as he was busy mapping the musculature of the alien skeleton, as it was not connected the way humans were and may well have been the cause for his great strength.
A man with dark hair walked in wearing a military uniform, "Well Dr Morris"
He looked up surprised by the interruption and his visitor. "Almost done Colonel Maybourne"
New York 1999
Connor looked once more at the grave marked 'Clark Kent, beloved husband of Lois Lane. A Superman', a fitting epitaph, and his passion had helped spur Connor on during the World War II to help Methos create the B.P.R.D, to hold all dangerous artefacts away from prying eyes or those eager to seek their secrets. It was the final resting place for the Ark of the Covenant, Spear of Longinus and a Crystal Skull.
Authors notes.
My main problem is deciding a damn title. Grrrrrr!