Gundam Wing: The Highlander
CHAPTER 3 - The Chase For The Sword
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Author: Ravena Kaiou
Email: KakyuuStarLt@aol.com
Genre: Sci-fi/Action
Crossovers: The Highlander/Gundam Wing
Warnings: OOC, language, violence, hints of 4xH.
Disclaimer: This series is meant to be a novelization of the Highlander Movie using Gundam Wing characters. Some things have been changed a bit, others have not. Highlander belongs to Rysher Entertainment, Gundam Wing belongs to Sunrise Animation. Don't sue me! *sobs*
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Back at the police station, Hilde sat at a spectrograph, meticulously placing metal shards beneath a lens. She clamped a few wires to them and started up a nearby machine. There was a humming sound and a crackling arc appeared as she quickly checked her computer and began snapping photos.
Once she had taken a roll of pictures, she waited for the arc to die. Her patience prevailed as the printer spit out a roll of data. She set the camera down carefully on the edge of the desk and studied the printout.
"It's not possible," she breathed.
Incredulous, she ran the test again. It ended in the same result.
"Son of a bitch," she muttered, grabbing her coat and bag and heading for the door.
Meanwhile, detective Maxwell was busy following Quatre along Central Park South. Hungry and tired, he trudged down Broadway and past various bums, porno-pits, and blinding neon signs.
The man was considering giving up his pursuit when the suspect descended the stairs to the subway and began picking up speed.
A sudden spurt of adrenaline raced through Duo's body as he, too, quickened his pace and tore down the stairs. When he reached the tracks, he couldn't believe his eyes.
The platform was completely deserted.
Hilde turned her red Pontiac south on 5th Avenue, maneuvering it as deftly as she could through the late-night traffic. She aimlessly tapped her hands on the steering wheel in time to the Lionel Ritchie song playing on the radio.
She turned west on 34th, arriving at Madison Square Garden. She parked on the street, pulled the keys out of the ignition, and got out, taking a bag with her.
The young woman's eyes glistened with an emotion somewhere between excitement and fear as she walked through the garage, the beam of her flashlight piercing the murky darkness. She shivered briefly as she reached the spot where Fasil had been killed.
In another part of the garage, there was the flare of a lighter as Quatre's face was illuminated by the yellow dancing flame. Reaching into the roof-duct hidden by the tiles, he pulled out his Samurai sword, grinning triumphantly.
His smile faded as he noticed the chipped edge and missing pieces. To protect it from further harm, he slid it into a sheath concealed inside his coat.
Footsteps echoed in the garage.
Quatre jerked his head up like an animal, trying to decide what to do. After a few moments, he snuffed the lighter.
Meanwhile, Hilde was guiding a metal-detector across the floor, sweeping it across the chalk outlines where Fasil's corpse used to be. Somewhere near one of the columns, a red light blinked on the device.
Cradling the flash, Hilde bent down and removed the miniscule shards of metal with a scalpel, dropping them into a plastic bag.
But she wasn't alone.
Quatre watched the woman's expedition from the shadows, quietly so as not to frighten her. When he moved his arm, a faint clank emanated from the sword hidden in his coat.
Hilde's senses leapt to attention as she heard the distant clank. She whirled her flashlight up the tunnel. "Who's there?" she demanded.
Silence.
Even though she received no answer, she could feel that something was down in the garage with her. Trying to control her panic, she headed for the exit, running faster and faster with each step.
The woman broke out onto the street and dashed to her car, trying to unlock her Pontiac with shaking hands. Her heart racing a mile a minute, she dropped the keys onto the sidewalk.
"Goddamnit," she cursed as she retrieved them and opened the door. Once inside, she roared off to P.J. Clarke's for a drink. She needed it tonight.
Hilde strode into the almost empty bar and looked at her watch. It was shortly after one o'clock in the morning.
She took a corner table, trying frantically to calm herself down. The waitress, Catherine, appeared with a smile on her face as she recognized her regular customer.
"Hey, Hilde. What can I get you?" she asked.
Hilde sighed and leaned her forehead on her hand. "Vodka. Lots of it."
As Catherine left, Hilde removed the plastic bag from her purse and opened it, tipping a metal shard into her still-trembling hand.
She was so involved in her activity that she didn't notice when Quatre Raberba-Winner entered the bar. He looked around and, spotting Hilde, sat down in a nearby booth, watching as Catherine re-appeared by the investigator's table with a bottle of vodka.
"Say when," Catherine said, pouring the liquid into a glass. Hilde watched until the glass was three-quarters full.
"When," she said with a slight laugh, lifting the glass and taking a sip. Noticing Quatre, Catherine glided over to the new customer to take his order. She returned to Hilde a few moments later.
"That guy over there wants you to join him for a drink," she said, jerking her thumb in Quatre's direction.
"The guy?" Hilde asked, leaning forward. She saw a dim profile and shook her head. "Thank him, but tell him no."
Catherine nodded and wandered away to deliver the message. Hilde sighed and gulped the vodka, her mind swimming in turmoil.
"Hello," a voice by her side said.
Hilde jumped like a cat and jerked her head in the direction of the voice. Seeing that it was Quatre, she relaxed a tiny bit. "What do you think you're doing?" she asked.
Quatre smiled. "Joining you. I'd like to buy you a drink."
Hilde drained her vodka and set down the glass. "I don't drink."
About to tell him to get lost, Hilde looked into his eyes for the first time. But she was unexpectedly overcome by feelings of warmth...and safety...
"What's your name?" Quatre asked, his voice caressing her. Mesmerized by his gaze, Hilde could barely hear herself answer.
"Hilde."
The ensuing silence between them was absolutely electric, until Catherine rang the register and broke the spell.
//I've got to get away from this guy,// Hilde thought, shouldering her bag and rising towards the door. Quatre didn't move.
"Do you get over to Madison Square Garden much?" he called after her.
Hilde froze in her tracks, heart pounding, and turned to look at him.
"What did you say?" she gasped.
"Madison Square Garden. Get over there much?"
His eyes that were so comforting just ten seconds ago were now cold, drilling through her brain.
"Why?" she asked numbly.
Quatre shrugged. "They've got basketball. The circus. Ice hockey." He paused a minute to let the last one sink in. "What's your last name, Hilde?"
Hilde swallowed hard, then regained a bit of bravery. "How come you're asking me about Madison Square Garden?" she demanded. "Did you follow me in here or something?"
The man's answer was a mere smile.
Hilde's blood turned to ice.
"Who the hell are you?" she said in the strongest voice she could manage at the moment, which was barely above a weak hiss.
Quatre rose from the table. "Let me walk you home, Hilde. Pretty girl, alone on the streets at night. No telling what could happen."
Hilde shook her head violently. "Forget it. I can take care of myself."
Quatre shrugged, sitting down as Hilde walked out of the bar. As she reached the sidewalk, she looked back at him in the gloom.
He raised his glass to her and smiled.
Outside the bar, Hilde waited in the shadows, watching Quatre leave. He stood for a moment, glancing up and down 55th Street. Pulling up his collar, he moved off into the night and turned down a dark alley.
And Hilde, of course, made the fateful decision to follow him.
Quatre walked briskly along the East River. A cold wind was blowing as he looked around the deserted area. It was 4:00 in the morning by now.
Steam rose from the vents, twisting and turning like tormented souls in the night air. The cars lined against the curb and yowling of stray cats gave the whole scene a very ethereal, spooky effect.
Every few yards, Quatre would hear footsteps, and stopped to listen closer. But when his own steps halted, so did the ones following him.
At the corner of 46th, his eyes raked the street. Nothing.
Without any warning, he sprinted off, disappearing into a shadowy construction site. Running footsteps followed him.
He nervously grasped the Samurai hilt inside his coat as a figure hurtled around the corner. Quatre sprang forward with a terrible cry and grabbed a handful of hair.
Hilde shouted in panic, trying to get free. "Get your hands off me!" she yelled.
The adrenaline rush subsiding, Quatre shook her, pulling her into the dark against a brick wall. She let out a long, high-pitched scream.
A light went on in a nearby apartment. "Be quiet," Quatre hissed. "I--"
His voice broke off as he listened to the night, eyes flashing as he sensed another presence. He instinctively ducked, yanking the woman with him to the dirt.
The next second, a gleaming sword shattered brick inches above their heads. Quatre rolled away from her, struggling to avoid a slashing blade. A dumbstruck Hilde stared up at a howling giant with a scar across his neck, wielding a huge sword.
The Khushrenada.
She gasped as Quatre grabbed a steel pipe, blocking the Khushrenada's murderous blows. The hulking giant was so fast that he couldn't even grab his sword.
In desparation, he side-stepped the attack and charged, tackling him to the grouns. Locked together, they toppled down an embankment into a shallow pit. Untangling himself from the mass of legs and arms, and sword in hand, the Khushrenada attacked again.
Quatre defended himself with the pipe as the Khushrenada swung at him again and again. "Good to see you again, MacLeod," he gurgled. "Four hundred years is a long time."
"You slimy bastard!" Quatre hissed, blocking another one of his opponent's blows and listening to the distant sound of sirens.
At the top of the embankment, Hilde peered through the muck, straining to see what was going on. Suddenly she lost her footing, crying out as she cannoned into Quatre's back.
"Jesus Christ!" Quatre roared as he felt the impact. "Get the hell out of here!"
Bellowing, the giant charged again. Quatre shoved Hilde out of the path of sudden death.
The Khushrenada laughed. "There can be only one, Highlander," he rasped.
The two men battled through the bare skeleton of the building. The Khushrenada's murderous blade missed Quatre by inches, instead slicing through solid iron.
The sky erupted in thrashing rotors and a roaring down-blast. Blinding clouds of dirt and debris gusted up from beneath the police chopper hovering above.
Searchlight beams probed swirling dust as an amplified voice rumbled down from the sky. "You! On the ground! Stay where you are!" it ordered.
Hilde choked, blinded by the dirt clouds. Quatre grabbed her from nowhere, his arms like steel.
"Some other time, Highlander!" the Khushrenada shouted out of the dark. "There can be only one!"
Quatre hauled Hilde up the embankment, away from the light as he melted into the dark. The sirens came even closer.
As Quatre was dragging her across 1st Avenue, Hilde's lungs felt like they were about to burst. "Stop," she panted. "For Christ's sake, stop."
The two of them halted under a streetlight.
"What in the name of God was that?" she gasped. "He called you Highlander. What did he mean, 'There can be only one?' Only one what?"
Quatre's face seemed to be carved out of stone. "Shut up!" he ordered, pulling her closer. His eyes were like bullet-holes.
"Listen lady," he hissed. "You almost got yourself killed."
Hilde refused to back down. "I want--"
Her words were interrupted as he shook her in an attempt to scare her away.
"Don't you ever follow me again," he said in an intense voice. "Forget about what you saw tonight. You only have one life. If you value it--"
His voice rose in anger. "Go home!"
Quatre threw Hilde to the ground and strode off.
Hilde got to her feet and jumped as a garbage can crashed in a nearby alley. //I should have had a full glass of vodka tonight,// she thought to herself as she shakily began to walk home.
CHAPTER 3 - The Chase For The Sword
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Author: Ravena Kaiou
Email: KakyuuStarLt@aol.com
Genre: Sci-fi/Action
Crossovers: The Highlander/Gundam Wing
Warnings: OOC, language, violence, hints of 4xH.
Disclaimer: This series is meant to be a novelization of the Highlander Movie using Gundam Wing characters. Some things have been changed a bit, others have not. Highlander belongs to Rysher Entertainment, Gundam Wing belongs to Sunrise Animation. Don't sue me! *sobs*
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Back at the police station, Hilde sat at a spectrograph, meticulously placing metal shards beneath a lens. She clamped a few wires to them and started up a nearby machine. There was a humming sound and a crackling arc appeared as she quickly checked her computer and began snapping photos.
Once she had taken a roll of pictures, she waited for the arc to die. Her patience prevailed as the printer spit out a roll of data. She set the camera down carefully on the edge of the desk and studied the printout.
"It's not possible," she breathed.
Incredulous, she ran the test again. It ended in the same result.
"Son of a bitch," she muttered, grabbing her coat and bag and heading for the door.
Meanwhile, detective Maxwell was busy following Quatre along Central Park South. Hungry and tired, he trudged down Broadway and past various bums, porno-pits, and blinding neon signs.
The man was considering giving up his pursuit when the suspect descended the stairs to the subway and began picking up speed.
A sudden spurt of adrenaline raced through Duo's body as he, too, quickened his pace and tore down the stairs. When he reached the tracks, he couldn't believe his eyes.
The platform was completely deserted.
Hilde turned her red Pontiac south on 5th Avenue, maneuvering it as deftly as she could through the late-night traffic. She aimlessly tapped her hands on the steering wheel in time to the Lionel Ritchie song playing on the radio.
She turned west on 34th, arriving at Madison Square Garden. She parked on the street, pulled the keys out of the ignition, and got out, taking a bag with her.
The young woman's eyes glistened with an emotion somewhere between excitement and fear as she walked through the garage, the beam of her flashlight piercing the murky darkness. She shivered briefly as she reached the spot where Fasil had been killed.
In another part of the garage, there was the flare of a lighter as Quatre's face was illuminated by the yellow dancing flame. Reaching into the roof-duct hidden by the tiles, he pulled out his Samurai sword, grinning triumphantly.
His smile faded as he noticed the chipped edge and missing pieces. To protect it from further harm, he slid it into a sheath concealed inside his coat.
Footsteps echoed in the garage.
Quatre jerked his head up like an animal, trying to decide what to do. After a few moments, he snuffed the lighter.
Meanwhile, Hilde was guiding a metal-detector across the floor, sweeping it across the chalk outlines where Fasil's corpse used to be. Somewhere near one of the columns, a red light blinked on the device.
Cradling the flash, Hilde bent down and removed the miniscule shards of metal with a scalpel, dropping them into a plastic bag.
But she wasn't alone.
Quatre watched the woman's expedition from the shadows, quietly so as not to frighten her. When he moved his arm, a faint clank emanated from the sword hidden in his coat.
Hilde's senses leapt to attention as she heard the distant clank. She whirled her flashlight up the tunnel. "Who's there?" she demanded.
Silence.
Even though she received no answer, she could feel that something was down in the garage with her. Trying to control her panic, she headed for the exit, running faster and faster with each step.
The woman broke out onto the street and dashed to her car, trying to unlock her Pontiac with shaking hands. Her heart racing a mile a minute, she dropped the keys onto the sidewalk.
"Goddamnit," she cursed as she retrieved them and opened the door. Once inside, she roared off to P.J. Clarke's for a drink. She needed it tonight.
Hilde strode into the almost empty bar and looked at her watch. It was shortly after one o'clock in the morning.
She took a corner table, trying frantically to calm herself down. The waitress, Catherine, appeared with a smile on her face as she recognized her regular customer.
"Hey, Hilde. What can I get you?" she asked.
Hilde sighed and leaned her forehead on her hand. "Vodka. Lots of it."
As Catherine left, Hilde removed the plastic bag from her purse and opened it, tipping a metal shard into her still-trembling hand.
She was so involved in her activity that she didn't notice when Quatre Raberba-Winner entered the bar. He looked around and, spotting Hilde, sat down in a nearby booth, watching as Catherine re-appeared by the investigator's table with a bottle of vodka.
"Say when," Catherine said, pouring the liquid into a glass. Hilde watched until the glass was three-quarters full.
"When," she said with a slight laugh, lifting the glass and taking a sip. Noticing Quatre, Catherine glided over to the new customer to take his order. She returned to Hilde a few moments later.
"That guy over there wants you to join him for a drink," she said, jerking her thumb in Quatre's direction.
"The guy?" Hilde asked, leaning forward. She saw a dim profile and shook her head. "Thank him, but tell him no."
Catherine nodded and wandered away to deliver the message. Hilde sighed and gulped the vodka, her mind swimming in turmoil.
"Hello," a voice by her side said.
Hilde jumped like a cat and jerked her head in the direction of the voice. Seeing that it was Quatre, she relaxed a tiny bit. "What do you think you're doing?" she asked.
Quatre smiled. "Joining you. I'd like to buy you a drink."
Hilde drained her vodka and set down the glass. "I don't drink."
About to tell him to get lost, Hilde looked into his eyes for the first time. But she was unexpectedly overcome by feelings of warmth...and safety...
"What's your name?" Quatre asked, his voice caressing her. Mesmerized by his gaze, Hilde could barely hear herself answer.
"Hilde."
The ensuing silence between them was absolutely electric, until Catherine rang the register and broke the spell.
//I've got to get away from this guy,// Hilde thought, shouldering her bag and rising towards the door. Quatre didn't move.
"Do you get over to Madison Square Garden much?" he called after her.
Hilde froze in her tracks, heart pounding, and turned to look at him.
"What did you say?" she gasped.
"Madison Square Garden. Get over there much?"
His eyes that were so comforting just ten seconds ago were now cold, drilling through her brain.
"Why?" she asked numbly.
Quatre shrugged. "They've got basketball. The circus. Ice hockey." He paused a minute to let the last one sink in. "What's your last name, Hilde?"
Hilde swallowed hard, then regained a bit of bravery. "How come you're asking me about Madison Square Garden?" she demanded. "Did you follow me in here or something?"
The man's answer was a mere smile.
Hilde's blood turned to ice.
"Who the hell are you?" she said in the strongest voice she could manage at the moment, which was barely above a weak hiss.
Quatre rose from the table. "Let me walk you home, Hilde. Pretty girl, alone on the streets at night. No telling what could happen."
Hilde shook her head violently. "Forget it. I can take care of myself."
Quatre shrugged, sitting down as Hilde walked out of the bar. As she reached the sidewalk, she looked back at him in the gloom.
He raised his glass to her and smiled.
Outside the bar, Hilde waited in the shadows, watching Quatre leave. He stood for a moment, glancing up and down 55th Street. Pulling up his collar, he moved off into the night and turned down a dark alley.
And Hilde, of course, made the fateful decision to follow him.
Quatre walked briskly along the East River. A cold wind was blowing as he looked around the deserted area. It was 4:00 in the morning by now.
Steam rose from the vents, twisting and turning like tormented souls in the night air. The cars lined against the curb and yowling of stray cats gave the whole scene a very ethereal, spooky effect.
Every few yards, Quatre would hear footsteps, and stopped to listen closer. But when his own steps halted, so did the ones following him.
At the corner of 46th, his eyes raked the street. Nothing.
Without any warning, he sprinted off, disappearing into a shadowy construction site. Running footsteps followed him.
He nervously grasped the Samurai hilt inside his coat as a figure hurtled around the corner. Quatre sprang forward with a terrible cry and grabbed a handful of hair.
Hilde shouted in panic, trying to get free. "Get your hands off me!" she yelled.
The adrenaline rush subsiding, Quatre shook her, pulling her into the dark against a brick wall. She let out a long, high-pitched scream.
A light went on in a nearby apartment. "Be quiet," Quatre hissed. "I--"
His voice broke off as he listened to the night, eyes flashing as he sensed another presence. He instinctively ducked, yanking the woman with him to the dirt.
The next second, a gleaming sword shattered brick inches above their heads. Quatre rolled away from her, struggling to avoid a slashing blade. A dumbstruck Hilde stared up at a howling giant with a scar across his neck, wielding a huge sword.
The Khushrenada.
She gasped as Quatre grabbed a steel pipe, blocking the Khushrenada's murderous blows. The hulking giant was so fast that he couldn't even grab his sword.
In desparation, he side-stepped the attack and charged, tackling him to the grouns. Locked together, they toppled down an embankment into a shallow pit. Untangling himself from the mass of legs and arms, and sword in hand, the Khushrenada attacked again.
Quatre defended himself with the pipe as the Khushrenada swung at him again and again. "Good to see you again, MacLeod," he gurgled. "Four hundred years is a long time."
"You slimy bastard!" Quatre hissed, blocking another one of his opponent's blows and listening to the distant sound of sirens.
At the top of the embankment, Hilde peered through the muck, straining to see what was going on. Suddenly she lost her footing, crying out as she cannoned into Quatre's back.
"Jesus Christ!" Quatre roared as he felt the impact. "Get the hell out of here!"
Bellowing, the giant charged again. Quatre shoved Hilde out of the path of sudden death.
The Khushrenada laughed. "There can be only one, Highlander," he rasped.
The two men battled through the bare skeleton of the building. The Khushrenada's murderous blade missed Quatre by inches, instead slicing through solid iron.
The sky erupted in thrashing rotors and a roaring down-blast. Blinding clouds of dirt and debris gusted up from beneath the police chopper hovering above.
Searchlight beams probed swirling dust as an amplified voice rumbled down from the sky. "You! On the ground! Stay where you are!" it ordered.
Hilde choked, blinded by the dirt clouds. Quatre grabbed her from nowhere, his arms like steel.
"Some other time, Highlander!" the Khushrenada shouted out of the dark. "There can be only one!"
Quatre hauled Hilde up the embankment, away from the light as he melted into the dark. The sirens came even closer.
As Quatre was dragging her across 1st Avenue, Hilde's lungs felt like they were about to burst. "Stop," she panted. "For Christ's sake, stop."
The two of them halted under a streetlight.
"What in the name of God was that?" she gasped. "He called you Highlander. What did he mean, 'There can be only one?' Only one what?"
Quatre's face seemed to be carved out of stone. "Shut up!" he ordered, pulling her closer. His eyes were like bullet-holes.
"Listen lady," he hissed. "You almost got yourself killed."
Hilde refused to back down. "I want--"
Her words were interrupted as he shook her in an attempt to scare her away.
"Don't you ever follow me again," he said in an intense voice. "Forget about what you saw tonight. You only have one life. If you value it--"
His voice rose in anger. "Go home!"
Quatre threw Hilde to the ground and strode off.
Hilde got to her feet and jumped as a garbage can crashed in a nearby alley. //I should have had a full glass of vodka tonight,// she thought to herself as she shakily began to walk home.