Highlander - The First Ones

Chapter - One

Since time began he had walked the planet silently amongst both mortals and immortals alike, with power and knowledge that none could ever comprehend. He was the first and will be the last of his kind, the perfect evolution of the immortal being. His true beginnings shrouded in mystery even too himself, one of four brothers created by the gods them selves to teach and lead man kind on a path of discovery and knowledge, but they failed. Now he walks the planet in the hopes of finding the one who will be his successor, in the stars was written the time and place. Quickly he ran to this place that was ordained by what ever gods placed him on this world. Near a large city in the north west of England.

England.
City of Manchester.
Circa 1960s…

Lonely, amazed and disappointed the Scholar walked through the centre of the city of Manchester. Tram lines hung high over the bustling city as people went about their business oblivious to the war that was coming and the remarkable man that walked amongst them. With an arrogant smile he stood in the centre awaiting the time his successor would appear, with the entire knowledge of an eternity of life in his mind he tried in some way to stop the constant stream of thoughts flowing through his mind until the sound of yelling brought him back too his senses before a large delivery truck slammed into him with such force it threw him into an empty shop window as glass shattered around him.

Screams came from the shoppers as blood flowed from the man's leg, ears and mouth. Moments later a police officer arrived to inspect the scene.

"Get a meat wagon, this man is dead, cordon off the area… and Jefferies… take statements from everyone"
"Yes Sergeant"

As the Constable left the accident site, the Sergeant looked back to the body and whipped his head around quickly, he was gone. 'What the hell? I didn't feel an immortal. What the hell is going on?' from the corner of his eye he saw a man limping away from the area, a slow smile crept over his face as he began to follow the injured man across the street to the large Manchester Cathedral that dominated the city centre, slowly the Sergeant grabbed his police truncheon firmly in his left hand and followed him into the church to find the man kneeling at the altar, his voice was barely audible as he walked towards him.

"Forgive me my brother, I made an error. The one is not here yet… but soon, I miss read the signs. I will be more careful next time, however others may have seen what I am. I need your strength to guide me"Bowing his head slightly he awaited the answers as he knew that the soul of his long dead immortal brother would be listening.

Suddenly the feeling of a powerful immortal washed over him as he grabbed his head in pain, quickly he jumped to his feet and whipped his head around to be faced with a police officer."If you'll excuse me officer, I am praying. And you won't need that"Quickly thinking on his feet after hearing the strange man's words he replied.

"I… I was drawn here, why?"
"What?"

Slowly the man stood and walked towards him.

"I… think I was meant to be here, to meet you sir, who are you?"

Quickly the man looked deep into the Sergeant's soul and backed away slowly as he saw something dark, his thoughts where open for anyone too hear and it wasn't what the police officer had said.

"No! you are not the one I am looking for…"
"What? I was…"
"Do not lie too me sir!"

Instantly he pushed past him and ran out of the church immediately followed by the police officer as he reached for a Roman short sword, as he reached the door and looked around the strange immortal had vanished. 'Who was this man? What was this man? And why couldn't I sense him?' He thought as he looked around before quickly pushing the sword into his jacket.

Paris France. Present Day…

Over a glass of whiskey and Cuban cigars, four immortals played a rather lengthy game of poker, the stakes where high as Methos laid down his final hand. The others had folded early in the game but he was trying to bluff Macleod into throwing his hand in as he had the worst hand of the evening.

"So Mac, I'll see your 100 and raise you… what's this? A thousand!"
"Oh! You're bluffing old friend! I'll see your grand and call, what you got old man?"
"Damn it!"

Methos threw in his hand, a mixed assortment of low numbers with no face cards, smiling Macleod placed his cards on the table."Straight flush to the ten o' clubs! The pot is mine"

"Damn it! How the hell do you do that?""I cheat... I'm kidding! After 5'000 years you still play a crap poker game"

Staggering slowly Methos stood from his seat and grabbed the bottle to refill the drinks as the door to the barge opened and Joe walked in slowly instantly smelling the smoke he coughed and looked around.

"You guys got a fire in here?"
"Nope!" replied Macleod as he pointed to the empty chair.
"Too rich for my blood Mac! Look I gotta speak to you and Methos…"

Carefully the old watcher descended the steps and sat next too Macleod as he opened the file he was carrying.

"I got a good one here, I'm heading off to England in a few hours, it seems some immortal is interfering in combat…"
"That's against the rules" Replied Methos.
"I know, it seems that this guy has taken it upon himself to stop challenges, the next thing we know both men are walking away calm and collected after shaking hands"

Methos stopped for a moment before pouring another drink and passing it too Joe before taking his seat facing Macleod.

"So who is this guy?"
"We don't know… no watcher has seen this guy up close, all we have is a grainy old image"

Reaching into the folder he pushed it across the table to be stopped by a look of recognition in the eyes of Methos.

"I'll book us a few flights… Mac you may wanna join us on this one"
"What?"
"Trust me, if I'm right, then this is something you should see!"
"And if your wrong?"
"That hardly seems possible now, does it?"

Arriving at Manchester International Airport the three gathered their belongings before leaving in a taxi for their hotel, with a smile on his face Methos spoke softly as he had booked the accommodations, a small traditional English pub with lodgings above. Slowly Macleod exited first and looked at the building.

"This is it? Looks like it was bombed too hell by the Germans"
"Best I could find on your budget, I got a place down the road. Oh, watch out for the rodents"

Quickly Macleod's head whipped around as he looked at Methos.

"Rodents? As in rats or mice?"
"Yes… have fun!"

With a smile on his face Methos closed the door to the taxi and sped off laughing. The morning after Macleod and Joe exited the old pub rubbing their shoulders in pain as Methos pulled up in a rental car with a large smile on his face.

"How was the night?"
"Screw you!"

Joe replied.

"So Mac, tell me about this guy you know out here"
"He's an old friend… if an immortal is out here, he'll know"

"One of us?"

Joe Responded.

"No Joe… One of us!"

The drive across the city took what seemed like forever until they reached a tiny backwater village in the middle of nowhere, inhabitants of this place walked around in a haze as they went about their business, as the last remnants of the industrial revolution, large cotton mills converted into warehouses loomed over the darkened village. Slowly the tiny car passed small school gates before stopping in front of the gravel driveway, first to exit was Methos, followed by Joe in the front as Macleod struggled out of the tiny two door Ford Fiesta.

"What the hell is this Methos? I said get a car not a coffin"
"All they had with the money you gave me… are you sure this is the place?"
"Oh yeah! He's here… Just do me a favour Methos, watch what you say. He's a little…. peculiar!"

Heeding his warning, the three walked to the front door, before they had a chance too knock the tiny white door opened as the inhabitant looked at Macleod.

"Duncan Macleod of the Clan Macleod come in and have a beer".