A/N—I don't own The Secrets of the Immortal Nicholas Flamel—it belongs, in its entirety, to Michael Scott. I also do not own The Avengers (which belongs to Marvel), or The Revenge of the Sith (which belongs to LucasFilms)-see the notes below.

Notes: I have always been intrigued by the idea of an evil Palamedes. What would his motivations be, what would he be like, etc. This is my attempt at such a scenario.

Several things gave me the inspiration for how this shapes itself: 1) The Avengers' Black Widow/Hawkeye showdown; 2) The Revenge of the Sith Anakin/Padme dialogue. While neither of these is required watching, a quick look at these scenes on YouTube might be interesting.

Summary: (tall, looming, menacing); (warm, enveloping, familiar); (sneering?); (bridges burning); AU, Evil!Palamedes. Rated T for vivid description, violence in later chapters, and possible triggers.

Different

—out of the fog (tall, looming, menacing) came a figure; a long claymore glinted through the dark smoke, slicing casually through the teeming anpu; a sharp, spicy smell (warm, enveloping, familiar) tainting the air, stinging Will's nostrils, making him choke, gag, and almost retch. He looked up through eyes watering with smoke, dust, and that oriental odor, and went felt his jaw drop.

"Palamedes!"

The dark knight advanced on him, face unreadable; Will tried to gain his feet, but was too weak, too unsteady; he fell.

The dark knight stood over him, glaring (sneering?) down at him with eyes that were, for the first time in two hundred years, unfeeling (but not empty).

The dark knight's hand clenched around his sword, hefting it as if in preparation, raising it high.

Will was almost too stunned to dodge the blow.

"Palamedes!" he shrieked in horror as he backpedaled, slipping down the stairs of the pyramid, barely missing the long, sharp blade that slammed into the gold-plated steps and sent flakes of gold spiraling into the air like ashes (bridges burning). "Palamedes, what are you doing?"

"What I was told to do." The answer was curt; it lacked every emotion that Will had ever learned to associate with Palamedes; it wasn't Palamedes' voice.

Staggering to his feet, ignoring the pain shooting up his legs, he stood to his full height and banished the tremor from his voice: "Which was what, exactly?"

Palamedes smirked at his attempts to be brave; the knight was a whole nine inches taller than Will, and it showed more than ever before. Suddenly Palamedes' height, his strength, his martial prowess…it was immediate, dangerous, and Will realized that, for the first time, he was scared of Palamedes.

"Make sure that what needs to happen happens."

"Which is?"

Palamedes smirked again, but shook his head.

"Tell me." (And he was standing on a different pair of stairs, in a different situation).

(And it worked, just like last time, but it was different). "The Elders have to have their way."

"No. No, no, no, no, no." (Flamel, handing him a broom, "get to work;" Dee, cold, hard, cruel, "it had to be done"). Will felt his world shatter again, and he was certain that this time it was going to break him with it. "That doesn't make any sense, Palamedes. You…you didn't come here to do that. You never wanted to do that. You…you came to…you…"

"Find your words," the knight snapped irately (haughtily, as if he were better).

"No." Once again Will sent his trembling voice into exile and summoned all his strength. He resisted the urge to put his hand to his eyes, to block out the tall, cruel figure before him, and he repeated himself. "No. You didn't come to this place to help the Elders. You came to help Abraham! Prometheus! All of us—Scatty, Francis, Joan, me! You didn't come here to hurt people."

"No, I didn't."

"Then why are you doing it now?"

"For noble reasons."

"That's a load of—"

The claymore sliced through the air in front of his nose, and he couldn't help but whimper.

"Don't." For a moment he was Palamedes again, letting Will know when he'd done or said something stupid. "Don't even bother."

"Bother with what? Telling you that you're deluding yourself into thinking you have some kind of noble reason when you're doing something that's going to kill millions of people, wipe out entire time strands, ruin your future?"

The claymore rushed by him once again; this time he had to step aside; this time it was meant to hurt.

Will looked at Palamedes in horror and shock. Then the anger set in.

"Fine."