Chapter Nine: Methos Versus...Who?
Duncan attacked, but it wasn't Methos who was the recipiant. Instead the blow from that infamous katana landed squarely on the bolts of the warehouse doors, leading the way out - to enough ground to fight on, but also to possible escape.
With a dark grin, Duncan gestured Methos out of the doors. Moving quickly, Methos complied, and turned around just in time to stop a possible fatal blow to his chest.
Parring the blow, Methos tried desperately to reason with Duncan. Gods, why did he always have to get into these situations? Sometimes all he wanted was a nice quiet life.
"Mac. Duncan, listen to me, we don't have to do this. You don't have to do this. Fight it Duncan, fight it!"
But Duncan just grinned at him and attacked. Methos womdered whether whatever was controlling Duncan had been controlling Richie that fateful night, but didn't have much time to think before Duncan followed through with further attacks. Methos defended, still unwilling to really fight his friend. He didn't know what the Watchers were doing, but only hoped that they wouldn't infere with this. Hopefully, whatever was controlling them and Duncan would believe that Duncan could defeat him. He certainly was the stronger of the two. Maybe this would give Amanda a chance to escape.
"Duncan please! Fight it."
'Gods, Old Man, begging now?' Methos steeled himself to fight, knowing that there was no Holy Spring around here and that he had to give his best fight, even if that meant killing his best friend. It was not a comforting thought, but then, wasn't survival his greatest skill? He'd never said it was an enjoyable one.
Steel met steel in an age-old form of combat, sparks flying and both men fighting with skills of masters. Methos was drawing on 5000 years of instincts, practice, and determination; Duncan on natural skill and an unnatural want to kill his, at least one time, friend.
Time stood still. Cut, parry, thrust. Blood drawn, wounds healed, and the cycle started again. The world narrowed to the two Immortals and their swords. Methos couldn't tell how long they had been fighting but it felt like forever. He couldn't let up for a second, though. He was holding his own, for now, but tiring, and was pleased he had decided that a gun and dagger were the perfect accessories to this evening's outing. Paranoia did have some uses, after all.
Just blocking a nearly fatal slash to his chest, Methos' sword locked with Duncan's, and a split-second later, so did their eyes. Peering into Duncan's eyes, Methos was saddened to see, for a second, the fear and confusion in his soul, together with a resignation. What kind of Hell was the other man going through? wondered Methos, to be controlled like this? And the resignation? Had Duncan already given up against this, this thing inside him?!
"Fight it Duncan!" he whispered furiously.
Red eyes flashed at him as the Highlander hissed a reply at him.
"You cannot win against me, Methos! You never could, and you never will!" The fight began again in earnest, steel screeching against steel as 'Duncan' pulled his sword away from Methos'.
Methos realised that none of that was Duncan MacLeod. But that begged the question of who, or rather, what it was. And how did it know Methos. Feeling as if the answers were just out of his reach, Methos focused on the battle again just in time to see Duncan's katana knock his own sword to the floor.
"And now, it is over. This time, you will die, 'Old' Man," hissed the voice, with a strange emphasis on Old, as if making fun of him.
Methos resisted the urge to laugh at the melodrama, to tell his opponent that he'd been there, done that, even wrote the book...
Instead, as the sword approached him, he backed away, gaining just a little more time. Enough time to bring out his dagger and slide it into 'Duncans' stomach. The sudden pain made the other man lose his grip and the red gaze faded slightly, again showing the real Duncan. The katana caught Methos across the chest instead of the neck. Through the serring pain, Methos, always extra-cautious, pulled his dagger out and stabbed Duncan again, in the chest, as his opponent died. Just to be extra-safe. Hoping from the first reaction that pain and death would destroy the demon inside of Mac, at least temporarily. With that, the world's oldest man died - again - hoping that when he woke up he would find a angst-ridden Highlander next to him.
Duncan attacked, but it wasn't Methos who was the recipiant. Instead the blow from that infamous katana landed squarely on the bolts of the warehouse doors, leading the way out - to enough ground to fight on, but also to possible escape.
With a dark grin, Duncan gestured Methos out of the doors. Moving quickly, Methos complied, and turned around just in time to stop a possible fatal blow to his chest.
Parring the blow, Methos tried desperately to reason with Duncan. Gods, why did he always have to get into these situations? Sometimes all he wanted was a nice quiet life.
"Mac. Duncan, listen to me, we don't have to do this. You don't have to do this. Fight it Duncan, fight it!"
But Duncan just grinned at him and attacked. Methos womdered whether whatever was controlling Duncan had been controlling Richie that fateful night, but didn't have much time to think before Duncan followed through with further attacks. Methos defended, still unwilling to really fight his friend. He didn't know what the Watchers were doing, but only hoped that they wouldn't infere with this. Hopefully, whatever was controlling them and Duncan would believe that Duncan could defeat him. He certainly was the stronger of the two. Maybe this would give Amanda a chance to escape.
"Duncan please! Fight it."
'Gods, Old Man, begging now?' Methos steeled himself to fight, knowing that there was no Holy Spring around here and that he had to give his best fight, even if that meant killing his best friend. It was not a comforting thought, but then, wasn't survival his greatest skill? He'd never said it was an enjoyable one.
Steel met steel in an age-old form of combat, sparks flying and both men fighting with skills of masters. Methos was drawing on 5000 years of instincts, practice, and determination; Duncan on natural skill and an unnatural want to kill his, at least one time, friend.
Time stood still. Cut, parry, thrust. Blood drawn, wounds healed, and the cycle started again. The world narrowed to the two Immortals and their swords. Methos couldn't tell how long they had been fighting but it felt like forever. He couldn't let up for a second, though. He was holding his own, for now, but tiring, and was pleased he had decided that a gun and dagger were the perfect accessories to this evening's outing. Paranoia did have some uses, after all.
Just blocking a nearly fatal slash to his chest, Methos' sword locked with Duncan's, and a split-second later, so did their eyes. Peering into Duncan's eyes, Methos was saddened to see, for a second, the fear and confusion in his soul, together with a resignation. What kind of Hell was the other man going through? wondered Methos, to be controlled like this? And the resignation? Had Duncan already given up against this, this thing inside him?!
"Fight it Duncan!" he whispered furiously.
Red eyes flashed at him as the Highlander hissed a reply at him.
"You cannot win against me, Methos! You never could, and you never will!" The fight began again in earnest, steel screeching against steel as 'Duncan' pulled his sword away from Methos'.
Methos realised that none of that was Duncan MacLeod. But that begged the question of who, or rather, what it was. And how did it know Methos. Feeling as if the answers were just out of his reach, Methos focused on the battle again just in time to see Duncan's katana knock his own sword to the floor.
"And now, it is over. This time, you will die, 'Old' Man," hissed the voice, with a strange emphasis on Old, as if making fun of him.
Methos resisted the urge to laugh at the melodrama, to tell his opponent that he'd been there, done that, even wrote the book...
Instead, as the sword approached him, he backed away, gaining just a little more time. Enough time to bring out his dagger and slide it into 'Duncans' stomach. The sudden pain made the other man lose his grip and the red gaze faded slightly, again showing the real Duncan. The katana caught Methos across the chest instead of the neck. Through the serring pain, Methos, always extra-cautious, pulled his dagger out and stabbed Duncan again, in the chest, as his opponent died. Just to be extra-safe. Hoping from the first reaction that pain and death would destroy the demon inside of Mac, at least temporarily. With that, the world's oldest man died - again - hoping that when he woke up he would find a angst-ridden Highlander next to him.