AN: So here's another story I'm writing in collaboration with someone else, who wishes to remain anonymous at the moment. It's based off of the TV show Highlander. Hope you guys enjoy!
Disclaimer: We don't own Castle.
Chapter 1
A man walks along the streets of New York City, his hand pulling at his trench coat to keep him warm, or at least the appearance that he needs it for warmth, it's not just a fashion statement, it's hiding his most prized possession, and a deadly one at that.
As he walks along the street, a familiar tingling sensation begins in his spine and grows more apparent as he inches closer to home.
"Shit," he grumbles. "Come out of hiding, whoever you are."
"I should have known better than to attempt to sneak up on you," a dark figure remarks from the alleyway he had just passed.
"What do you want?" the man in coat demands, already knowing the answer.
"Your head," the man simply replies.
The man on the sidewalk grumbles. "You can't have it." He slips his hand into his coat, pulling out his concealed katana, and stalking toward the man.
Detective Kate Beckett stalks toward her latest crime scene, coffee cup in hand. It's days like today where she dislikes her job. Getting up at the crack of dawn for yet another homicide with the same motive as the last four is not how she wants to start her morning.
"What do we have, Lanie?" she asks the M.E., who is currently leaning over the body.
"Another beheading, obviously," her co-worker and best friend replies, shaking her head. "Came clean off just like the other two. Looks like the same weapon was used too."
The detective purses her lips, sighing. "Any witnesses?"
Her colleague, Detective Ryan, is the one who speaks up. "Unfortunately, no. We're going to pull security footage from the camera on the corner to see if anything comes up."
"Wonder if we'll see our trenchcoat man again," Detective Esposito muses.
"Yeah, well, if we do, we're bringing him in for questioning, again," Beckett decides. For two of the prior killings, a man with a trench coat had shown up on camera near the scene. Unfortunately, the man, who went by Rick, had denied any involvement in the killings and since Beckett and her team were unable to find anything both times, they let him go. He also had solid alibis for the other two beheadings, so they were forced to cross him off the list.
"Let me know if he does come up. I want to question him myself this time." Kate figures she might be able to persuade him a little better than the boys. After all, he had asked her out when he saw her after their second failed round of questioning.
"Okay, boss," Ryan chimes and she nods, heading back to her car. She briefly glances toward the scene again before turning around and shaking her head in dismay.
Who does beheadings anymore anyway?
Glancing around, he gathers his bearings. A dumpster with the lid propped open, the putrid smell of rotting food seeping out into the night. A few broken bottles near a damp wall, and abandoned cardboard temple. Dark alleys are so clíche he thinks to himself, rolling his eyes and his shoulders at the same time.
"I've been tracking some of the kills around town," The dark figure remarks, as he pulls back his hood, revealing his identity to the approaching swordsman. "Mostly newbies without mentors losing their first fight, but a couple of old-timers like you and me have bit the dust lately too." The man draws his own sword, a spatha which had served him well for many millenia. "You have anything to do with that?" The man smirks at his prey, as he brandishes his sword in an enticing manner.
"I don't go looking for fights. I've played this game long enough to know that I don't need to," says the man in the trench coat.
"You're right, if you play this game long enough people will come breaking down your door for your head," the figure chuckles, though the the laugh is at odds with his words, "I suppose that's the price to pay for being immortal."
"Let's get this over with, I'm not getting any younger here," he says with his own smile, his joke not going unnoticed by his opponent.
"No, but I don't think you'll be getting any older either, Highlander," grins the aggressor, choosing this moment to make his first strike in an attempt to catch the other off guard.
Kate crumples up her napkin and tosses it on her desk, taking a much needed gulp of her coffee while looking at the murder board they were putting together for this new John Doe. "A beheading is weird, but a dark alley? That's just cliche," she comments, shaking her head as she sets down her coffee in lieu of a whiteboard marker.
She writes all the facts she knows about the case, which really isn't much. Not much sign of a struggle, a few broken bottles, and a broken lightbulb, but they don't appear to be related to the incident. No scuffs on the knuckles, no skin under the fingernails, the only thing wrong with the body other than it being headless was a small, round, perimortem bruise on the left temporal bone.
No wallet, no weapons found around the scene, nothing.
"Who was this guy, and why did he end up beheaded in an alley?" she muses aloud.
"Well," Detective Esposito interjects, leaning on the desk behind her, "I got these photos of the victim's tattoos from Lanie, and they're pretty unique. She said that she's never seen anything like it in person, she's only ever seen it in history books," he says, handing over the folder he's carrying.
Kate examines the artwork adorning the victim, in awe of the detail. "This stuff must have cost a fortune!" she exclaims in wonderment, flipping through the photographs. "I mean, mine-" she stops herself short.
"Your…?" Esposito prompts.
"My - uh - college roommate dropped a lot of money on a tattoo that wasn't half this good," Kate fumbles for a good cover story.
"Beckett, I've seen you naked, Chica. I know you have ink," he says in a hushed tone. "Remember that hazmat thing two years ago? Don't tell me you weren't checking anybody out!"
"Espo!" she scolds, smacking him upside the head with the stack of photos. "You may have seen me naked, but I sure as hell didn't look at you!"
"You're missing out, Chica," he hums, dancing out of her reach and shaking his butt a little from across the bullpen.
"And don't tell anyone about what you saw!" she hisses after him.
"Ah, so you know who I am, but who are you?" the Highlander prompts as he parries the strike and spins nimbly out of the way of the next, keeping his blade in a defensive position.
"I am Bern, the Bastard Brigand!" the man exclaims with a wild slash of his sword that catches in the Highlander's billowing coat.
"Interesting," the Highlander comments as he uses his own blade to trap the weapon in his coat. "Did you make that up yourself, or was that what your village liked to call you as a pet name?" he teases the man, trying to rile him up.
The other man jerks at his sword's handle, but it won't budge. "I'd heard that you liked to cheat, Highlander," he spits.
"Cheat? No, I would never cheat! I just like to make my own rules," the Highlander says before releasing the other blade and quickly bringing his sword hilt up and jabbing it into the other man's temple.
With a dazed look in his eyes, the aggressor falls to his knees, raising his sword half-heartedly in an effort to fend off any strikes.
"You see, when people like yourself try to prey on me and attempt to take my head, I have to improvise," the Highlander sighs, readying his blade. "I wish there were another way to settle this, who does beheadings anymore anyway? They're getting too easy to track!" he says as an aside.
"Do you normally crack this many jokes when you're about to kill someone?" Bern asks, exasperated.
"Yes, yes I do. I'm Inigo Montoya, you killed my father, prepare to die!" he exclaims, swiftly separating head from shoulders.
"It really is a shame that no one ever really gets to enjoy my jokes," he sighs, a weight settling on his shoulders briefly.
The surge of energy that surrounds him is as intoxicating as ever, and he knows how other immortals can become addicted to it, but he's unwilling to let himself succumb to such a fate. The lightning crackles all around him, sparking from an outlet in the wall, and the one working light bulb in the alley, causing it to burst. He raises his blade in the air triumphantly, conducting the energy from the Quickening, as is his ritual.
Beckett sighs, entering her apartment and swiftly closing the door. She sheds her coat in a matter of seconds and tosses it on the couch. Still no leads on the damn case and Ryan and Espo were still going through security footage when she left earlier. They had urged her to go home, saying there was nothing else to do. She reluctantly agreed, wishing she had company at home to actually compel her to return to the apartment.
She's on call tomorrow, but she doesn't need to get up early. With that in mind, she grabs a wine glass from her cabinet, filling it with her favorite wine for nights like this one. Then, she browses through her bookcase, selecting the latest in her favorite series. With satisfaction, she strolls to the bathroom and starts running the water for the tub.
She sets the two objects down onto the marble counter, strips, and steps into the porcelain tub. Grasping the book first, she opens up to the beginning page and clasps the wine glass in her free hand.
"I guess I do have company for tonight after all," she says, chuckling and allowing herself to settle into the water up to her shoulders. Shaking her head, she snorts. "It's a shame that no one ever really gets to enjoy my jokes."
So, she reads and sips, letting her body relax among the suds in the warm water, her lips curving into a small smile as she continues on, as is her ritual.
LIz: So, here it is. Thank you to the my fantastic friend (who wishes to remain anonymous for the moment) for collabing with me on this!
Anon: Thank you, thank you … I'm sure I'll give away my secret identity EVENTUALLY!.
Liz: Okay guys, we'll see you next chapter!
BUT WHAT DID HE DO WITH THE WALLET AND SWORD?!
- He tossed the wallet in the river and kept the sword for his collection