Descension
Part 5
Traffic on the highway was usual for the mid-afternoon hour that it was, so riding his motorcycle offered Richie little worry about crashing. But then when had he ever been worried about an accident?
Being Immortal he knew that it wouldn't hurt him (not too much anyway) if he did get involved in an accident. For he laughed at the thought of getting up and saying he was fine, after the paramedics declared him dead, wondering if it would get him on the front page of the paper.
Then again when Duncan found out about this it wouldn't be pretty. When he got angry, nothing ever was pretty.
"I wonder how Mac' is feeling right now," Richie asked himself, shortly before his train of thought was broken by an irregular tingling in his scalp, "hmm. Must need to switch to a dandruff shampoo," he thought as he passed through an up ahead three-way intersection just before the light turned red, "nailed it!"
But as he passed through he failed to notice that a figure on a motorcycle pulled out after he passed, following behind him certainly several car lengths.
"I can't believe this MacLeod! You let out an 18 year old Immortal with no warning about the possible danger that a psycho will behead him?" Methos all but screamed as he paced back and forth, shaking his head with a fury.
"I didn't know about this until you told me. How was I to know," Duncan argued.
"That's no bloody excuse Highlander," Methos argued and smacked him across the face in an almost comical fashion, "wake up and smell the coffee! That boy is in for a dance with death if he runs into this black loving psycho! He doesn't even know the proper forms of combat! I've been around for five millenniums, I've seen it all, and this guy could've killed me at any time while I was on my back after that surprise move he made on me!" Methos ranted.
"Well unfortunately there's not much we can do. He could be anywhere in the city, and so could this other person. The only good thing is that this city is so big that it's unlikely they'll encounter each other anytime soon," Duncan told him.
"Damn this dandruff is annoying," Richie thought as he continued to ride along, his scalp continuing to itch with a vengeance. He considered pulling over and stopped to his head a good scratching, but that thought was quickly blown out of the water.
Something came into his sight, just out of the corner of his eye. Somebody was following him on a fancy looking red motorcycle. It looked like a ZX-10R but he couldn't be sure. But what really grabbed his attention was that the driver was moving up beside him at a quick rate, and carrying a huge sword, drawn and ready!
"Fuck, this isn't good," Richie thought as he turned his attention back to the road and hit the accelerator to get away. But this tactic proved useless as the other driver did the same to keep up with him.
Outrunning was proved to be a useless tactic in just seconds. Richie guessed that he would be forced to fight back if he wanted to survive, but fighting back while riding a motorcycle down a busy highway was an entirely new concept to him. But looking next to him he realized he didn't have much of a choice. He reached into his coat to retrieve his sword, only to come to a realization.
"Double fuck. I forgot my sword! Just great now I'm a goner if I can't evade this guy!"
Useless or not, Richie's only means of combat was to try and outrun his follower. He gunned the accelerator again, pushing his speed beyond the posted limits for safe driving.
Undaunted his pursuer followed Richie's lead by gunning his accelerator to equal him in speed. As he pulled up next to Richie he raised his sword and swung for the back of his neck. But his attack failed as Richie quickly ducked the strike and moved to the second lane.
Just as he had predicted his follower did the same, the both driving in the same lane once again. This time his follower swung from the front but again Richie ducked, followed by a kick to the side in an attempt to push him away. It gained him several inches of space and forced the driver to turn his attention back to the rode.
"Get into your own lane!" Richie shouted over the roar of the traffic and attempted to sideswipe the other guy and push him away.
The maneuver quickly proved useless as the other driver slowed down just enough to avoid being hit, then accelerating and pulling up to Richie on the left instead of the right this time.
"This guy just doesn't give up," Richie thought as the other rider shifted control to carry the sword in his other hand.
As he prepared to take another swipe, Richie dropped his speed to fall behind, effectively avoiding the attack.
With the distance between them, Richie turned his bike and drove through the middle line of the highway and into the left lane with the flow of traffic, despite the many enraged honks from the other traffic.
"Let's see him try and follow that," Richie thought and chanced a glance behind him but he then wished that he didn't.
The other rider had not only copied his move, but decided to take his aggression out in a severe form or road rage; by stabbing the front tire of a minivan before passing it, leaving it far behind as he continued to pursue Richie.
This was very serious now. No opponent he'd ever met had risked the lives of innocent people in such an extreme fashion before. It was apparent that this guy was very, very serious and wasn't going to let anything get in his way, not even bystanders or the other motorists.
He knew that he had to get away as fast as possible while putting as few people as possible in danger. But as the day wore on more people were driving. Rush hour traffic wasn't far off, only an hour at best. This was going to make his task all the more difficult.
"Crap," Joe stated and angrily hung up the telephone.
"Bad news?" Duncan asked.
"It could prove to be," Joe said as he sat down and sighed, "I gave a description of what this guy looks like, well what his attire consists of, and his choice of weapon. The Watchers have no information on him or any other Immortal that wields an Odachi."
"A what?" Methos asked.
"An Odachi," Duncan interrupted, "it's a sword like a katana but it's usually around five and a half feet long. Normally they were considered ceremonial weapons or arms reserved for the highest of officials in the army because of their great size. I've seen pictures of them but I've never seen one for real."
"None of the Watchers have," Joe replied, "the only thing I found out was who the Immortal was that got killed last night."
"Well who the bloody hell was it?" Methos asked.
"Some Immortal from Germany, his real name is unknown but he went by Gandalf," Joe explained.
"Gandalf? Where have I heard that name before?" Methos asked.
"He was a wizard in the "Lord of the Rings" books if I remember correctly," Duncan explained, "but what was he doing here?"
"They didn't say exactly. Something about a meeting with someone but it wasn't clear," Joe told them.
"So in other words we know nothing," Methos stated.
"Exactly," Joe replied.
"So we're right back where we started," Methos grumbled.
"Well not exactly," Duncan replied, "at least we know that we don't know anything."
Richie looked back again, regretting that he did. The other rider was still behind him. No matter what maneuver he pulled he always remained behind him. Even after dispatching seven other motor vehicles he was still frighteningly close.
"Whadda I gotta do to get rid of this guy?" Richie asked himself as he tried to think of something to do. So far not a single one of his plans had worked. In some cases it only made things worse.
He watched in horror as the rider swung his sword again, cutting through the hood of a pickup truck, leaving it far behind him before it burst into flames. It definitely wouldn't be the last time something like that happened.
"I've gotta think of something," Richie thought as he looked ahead to keep from crashing into a possible slow moving vehicle.
As he wracked his teenaged mind to find something he could do he spotted something up ahead, something that just might help him out. A sporting goods store was only half a mile away. Sporting goods stores always carried a variety of things that could be used as weapons.
Pushing his accelerator for all it was worth Richie speeded past the other motorists, totally disregarding the speed limits to get away from his attacker.
The distance between him and the store closed quickly. He barely managed to pull in without getting thrown off his bike in a resulting crash. And although it was against his better judgment he shut off his bike before running for the store. If he left it running it would just consume more gas, and he wasn't exactly running on a full tank as it was.
He lowered his helmet visor in an attempt to hide himself as he charged into the store, forcefully pushing the doors open and muscling his way past the other customers despite their enraged protests.
Being unfamiliar with the store and short on time Richie did the only thing he could do. Rampage until he found what he was looking for while knocking down whatever got in his way.
"Where's all the good stuff?" Richie asked himself.
He saw plenty of baseball bats, both wooden and aluminum, as well as many golf clubs and pool cues. Any of these could probably cause some damage to the sword blade of his opponent but it wasn't enough so he moved on to other aisles.
As he continued along he noticed he had moved into firearms. These could definitely put this guy down, but he unfortunately lacked the proper knowledge of how to operate the particular model shotguns that were in the glass racks, so he moved on.
He came to crossbows and longbows next. He knew something like that would rip through unprotected flesh and even tough leather if shot right, but the loading time wasn't something that would work in his favor, so once again he moved on.
Finally he came to something that looked like it would prove useful to him. Machetes. There were at least a dozen different types of machetes, all of them not behind any cases and easily reachable.
He grabbed two of the 28" blackened carbon steel models and hastily moved to leave the store despite the arguments and threats of calling the cops for him not paying. He didn't care if he was caught, he would at least be alive.
He practically kicked through the doors and struggled to get the machetes out of their tight plastic packaging that held the blades firmly in place to avoid injury of a patron.
"Damn safety regulations," Richie muttered as he fought against it.
Just as he was about to get one free he heard the familiar sound of an accelerator roar. He looked up and over to discover that his attacker had reached the parking lot and stood there, his sword still at the ready while he stood by his dismounted bike. Unfortunately he had parked right within 10 feet of his motorcycle.
Richie was sure he was going to be attacked right then and there, but then he saw that the other person wasn't moving. It was like he was waiting for him, almost like he was giving him a chance.
Slightly calmer, Richie finally managed to get the first machete free, before cutting through the packaging of the second. With a machete in each hand, he walked to his bike cautiously.
As Richie approached, his attacker stepped out and in front of both bikes. Richie then realized that if he wanted to get his bike back he would have to fight for it. He'd seen enough movies about double handed fighting that he hoped he could fake a decent attack with his current choice of weapons. With a nervous gulp he began to move forward.
"We really don't have to do this. We could just pretend this never happened," Richie offered, hoping he would accept.
"Unfortunately we do," he said in a gruff voice, shooting down Richie's hopes of a peaceful exchange.
"Alright, but don't say I didn't try and prevent it," Richie warned him.
The two of them stepped close enough for the fight to begin but neither of them made the first move. Instead they were waiting for the other in hopes of finding out what their method of attack was going to be.
They stood still, their weapons ready for the assault that looked like it would happen. As they waited Richie grew nervous. This guy looked too calm with his visor down as his arm not even trembling despite the large weapon he held with it.
"Nice sword," Richie commented, hoping he could distract him, "Japanese?"
"Yes."
"Not much of a talker are you?" Richie asked.
"Maybe."
Richie rolled his eyes, this conversation was going nowhere and trying to distract him was useless. He decided that now would be as good a time as any to strike and did. He swung his left machete for the guy's face, but it was blocked with the handle of the Odachi. As he blocked Richie countered with the right machete and attempted a stabbing thrust, but he shifted his body out of the way to avoid being hit.
As Richie began to pull back the attacker leapt back, performing a midair reverse summersault, and landed perfectly. He advanced his right foot forward while his left remained where it was. He turned his upper body to the right and raised his sword over his head, pointing right for Richie, before extending his left hand and holding it out in a "stop" fashion.
Richie stared in confusion at this tactic, he couldn't tell if it was Japanese or Chinese but he was sure he had seen that stance before. Somewhere...
His thoughts were quickly broken as the attacker flipped his free hand around, showing Richie the back of his hand, before flicking it in a "come get me" fashion. Although it was against his better judgment Richie charged and started swing both machetes one after the other, forcing his attacker to defend with his sword.
"Hey this might actually be an easy battle. Maybe I should switch to this style of combat all the time," Richie thought as he continued his assualt, forcing his opponent to back up while he advanced, "ha! How do ya like those apples?" he asked in an all too cocky tone.
To give his response his opponent twirled his sword much the same way he had with Methos, before swinging it and cutting the blade of the left machete in half like it was nothing. He saw that the sword blade showed no visible signs of wear, like it was fresh from the factory, while a quick glance at his weapons showed various nicks of varying size because of the impacts.
"Oh shit!"
The wail of sirens could be heard in the distance. Richie knew that it was the cops coming. Hopefully they would brake up this excitement, and if he got arrested at least he would still have his head. The only problem would be surviving long enough. And with only one machete that was still ready for combat it didn't look good.
"You're gonna kill me now right?"
"Yes."
Richie gulped nervously. A plan had come to him but he was taking a big gamble. If he failed to execute it correctly he would be killed. He had only one shot and he had to make it work.
As his opponent drew his sword back and swung, Richie ducked just a second before it could make contact with his neck, and because of the sword's design the recovery time would be slow. He charged before the attacker could pull his sword back for another attack, and rammed the broken machete blade straight into his leg, causing him to scream in pain and drop to the ground.
While he was down Richie took the opportunity and kicked him in the ribs, causing him to yell. He kicked a couple of more times with the same results before running for his motorcycle. Nervously he struggled with the keys to get the right one, and with shaky hands attempted to try and get the bike started.
Slowly, very slowly, his attacker started to climb back to his feet, causing Richie to panic further. He grasped the handle of the machete and pulled it out of his leg like it was nothing more than a splinter.
Richie fought with his bike, hoping that it wasn't sabotaged while he was still inside. Slowly his attacker was starting to limp over to him, driven by the urge to commit a beheading. But just before he could the engine roared to life and allowed him to escape before it was too late, just as the police came into view pulling into the parking lot.
A police car immediately pulled in and two police officers climbed out, both pointing their sidearms for the attacker.
"Put the weapon down and put your hands behind your head!" one of the officers shouted.
Not only had he lost his target because of a sneak maneuver but now he was facing death at the hands of two morons that were armed. Only one phrase could accurately describe this situation perfectly.
"Kuso!"
Richie laughed in triumph. The police had decided to detain his attacker rather than him. Now he could get back to the dojo safely. He just hoped Duncan wouldn't kill him for being gone for so long.
"Damn," he growled and stopped before the light could turn red.
As he waited for the light to turn green he began to think back to the fight he had just had. He managed to force his attacker back while making him defend. But when it looked like the battle was in his favor, he swung his sword and cut through one of the machete blades easily. It then came to him like a bolt of lightning.
"The rope a dope. I can't believe I fell for that old trick," Richie thought and shook his head.
He himself had used that move to wear down a few opponents when he fought on the streets, before he met Duncan. He knew how to do it but he never saw it done with swords before. How dumb was that?
As the light turned green Richie was about to step on the gas, but then something suddenly didn't feel right. His scalp was itching again, harder this time.
"No, it couldn't be. Could it?"
He chose not to hang around and find out. Instead he accelerated to put as much distance between himself and whatever he was sensing right now.
He pushed his accelerator for all it was worth, which he hoped was more than the amount of gas he had left, to get out of there and back to the dojo where it was safe.
As he continued along he paid little attention to the scenery, not even caring as he passed a bridge overpass, but rather just barreled on through it. But as soon as he shot through he sensed something wrong, very wrong. Slowing his bike to a stop and turned around he looked to see what was happening, before breathing a sigh of relief. It was all clear.
But then he heard a familiar revving. There was another motorcycle somewhere close. He looked around for the source of the noise but found nothing. He then turned his attention back to the overpass.
He watched carefully as the sound got louder and louder, trying to pinpoint the source. And then, he saw it! Someone driving a motorcycle had driven right over the overpass and was currently in midair. But what made it worse was that it was his attacker.
With sword drawn and ready in one hand, his other hand holding on tightly to the handlebar, the motorcycle came crashing down on the pavement, causing sparks to fly everywhere. What surprised Richie even more than the fact that he had gotten away from the cops was that his bike was still functioning after such a jump!
"Oh shit!" Richie screamed and stepped on his accelerator.
This entire event was absolutely unreal, how could a motorcycle survive such a fall like that was who knows how much extra weight riding it. Right now he couldn't worry about that, what he had to worry about was escaping alive.
His attacker was pulling up quickly and they were both headed for heavy traffic as it grew later and later. If this didn't end soon a lot of people were going to risk getting killed by this psycho.
Richie knew he had to do something, and quickly. He decelerated to fall back enough to meet his attacker and swung for his face with his machete. As expected it was blocked by the sword's blade and then returned, which he managed to duck.
The two began to trade blows and swings, trying to take the other out but with little success as the other could slow down or speed up as needed. No matter what attack was launched the other always seemed to be able to counter it well enough to avoid any serious injury.
"Swordfighting or motorcycles. Mac's gonna flip when he hears about this," Richie thought as he ducked to avoid what could've proven to be a fatal head swing, before accelerating again.
As Richie sped up, so did his attacker, but instead of meeting Richie's speed he sped past him, leaving him behind.
"What happened? Did he just get tired of fighting or something?" Richie asked himself as he watched, his opponent showing no sign of coming back anytime soon.
"Stupid traffic," a semi driver complained angrily.
He was busy hauling a tanker full of gasoline and the traffic just wasn't with him today so it was taking much longer to deliver than he was hoping for, forcing him to wait. And unfortunately it was very, very boring.
"I wish something would damn well happen," he growled.
Just as that was said there was an unusual noise outside the cab next to the door. He looked out to see what it was and saw a figure dressed in black and carrying a sword. The last thing he saw was the sword being slammed through the window...
The attacker had moved from attacking Richie to a semi hauling a tanker. He drove up to the cab and climbed to the top of the bike seat. He carefully got his balance in a crouched position and then leapt up, grabbing onto the cab door with one hand, holding his sword with the other, and letting his bike lose balance and fall away.
He pulled his sword back and slammed it through the window, effectively killing the driver. With that out of the way he moved over to one of the steps and opened the door, dragging the driver out and tossing him to the pavement before climbing inside.
Taking control of the truck proved little effort as he moved it into the rightmost lane and floored the gas pedal, bringing the semi to a much higher speed than it should've been going at. Once it reached a satisfied speed he threw his weight into turning left in a way it shouldn't have been.
While the cab turned, the tanker failed to follow and was tipped over by the combination of the speed and the sharp turn, forcing it to tip over and skid along the ground, dragging the cab with it.
Sparks flew in every direction as the semi skidded, slowing down at a gradual pace on its way to a grinding halt. The attacker climbed out onto the side of the truck cab and leapt off, landing on the pavement roughly, but still managing to keep from rolling upon impact. Rather, he landed on his feet and his left hand.
He stood up and looked out in front of him. Traffic was pulling to a halt and his target had no way to go. This match was going to be over very quickly...
"Oh shit!"
Richie hit the breaks with all his might, nearly getting thrown off the motorcycle as a result. That crazy guy had been following him had blocked all five lanes of the highway by overturning a tanker truck. It was definitely overkill, but just as definitely effective.
He looked behind him and saw that traffic was piling up. He couldn't go back, and he couldn't go forward otherwise he'd face his attacker, so he was trapped.
"How the heck am I gonna get out of this one?" Richie asked himself as he began to look around.
He definitely couldn't go to the side so he was effectively trapped. It looked like he had lost this fight. But then he thought of something, something big.
"It's crazy, but it might just work," he thought. Richie began revving his motorcycle up, getting ready for his move. Behind his helmet he had a wicked grin on his face, almost like he was insane. "I'm coming to get ya!" he yelled and accelerated forward.
Though the kamikaze attack should've been successful, it failed. Instead of leaping to the side, Richie's attacker reached out and grasped the handlebars, effectively slowing the bike down, causing Richie to freak out at his tremendous strength! Strength of this level was too unreal to believe, not even steroid abusers could hold their ground and keep from getting run over this way!
"All over boy," he said simply.
"I'll say, for you," Richie said and made a surprise move, cutting his attacker across the chest deeply.
The attacker seemed to lose control and fell forward as Richie kicked the accelerator into high and road forward, treating him like a hood ornament. As they got closer to the tanker Richie leapt off and rolled along the asphalt of the street just second before the motorcycle slammed its passenger into the tanker hull.
"Dammit it should've blown up!" Richie angrily stated.
He couldn't figure out how the attack couldn't have worked, it always did in the movies. Then he noticed something, there must've been a crack in the hull because there was a puddle of something growing, and quickly. This gave Richie another idea.
Slowly his attacker was beginning to come back. He straightened himself back up and started to move the motorcycle off himself, before the sound of a whistle stopped him. He looked over and saw Richie waving at him, before giving him the finger. He pushed the bike hard and almost completely off of him as he continued to watch Richie.
Richie knew it was now or never. He pulled his arm back, still holding the machete, and swung it forward with all his might and released the blade. The machete spun as it headed right for the tanker and hit the hull, causing a few sparks to appear and fall.
Behind his helmet the attacker's face took on a look of horror. He finally realized Richie's plan of attack, and it was going to be big!
The sparks fell into the gas puddle and immediately set it ablaze, the flames licking their way back to the main source of gas and into the tanker.
Richie ran back and leapt behind one of the cars, ducking down as far as he could just seconds before the tanker exploded in a massive fireball with a deafening boom. Burning hot shrapnel and flaming debris was thrown in every direction, littering the area in scrap metal and fire.
When he felt that it was safe to get back up, he looked up and saw that there was nothing left of the semi but a flaming hunk of wreckage with black smoke pouring out everywhere into the surrounding area. Unfortunately with flaming wreckage littering the area it now looked like a war zone, meaning that travel would be very difficult no matter what method was used.
But despite this, Richie was happy. He managed to keep his head on his shoulders, and that was the main thing, to him anyway.
"Alright!" he thought excitedly. There was no way his attacker could've survived that blast at ground zero, Immortal or not. But then he was hit by the reality of the situation. "How the hell am I gonna get back home without a motorcycle?"
Richie has survived his encounter with the mysterious assailant that was chasing him, literally blowing him to hell with a bit of clever ingenuity and a lot of dumb luck. But is this truly the end? Did his pursuer die in the explosion of the tanker truck? Or did he slink away during the chaos and now currently awaiting the right time to strike?
Author's Notes:
1. The ZX-10R is a Kawasaki Ninja(r) motorcycle.
2. I don't own "Lord of the Rings" either. As of this date I haven't even seen a single movie or read a single book about it.
3. Although it's highly unlikely for any sporting goods store to carry them a 28" machete does exist.
4. The fight of this story was inspired by "The Matrix Reloaded" and "Termination 2: Judgment Day"
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