A/N: I would like to thank Violet for her reviews. I'm not going to reveal anything about the rules of this alternate timeline so far, but rest assured it won't be long before Duncan and Evil Duncan meet up.
I toiled over whether or not to add a song to underscore the battle between Methos and Evil Duncan, but then I realized that this chapter is all ready a little longer with the flashback without adding the song to it.
Anyway, I know some people like to indicate flashbacks with a year and a place, but I decided not to bother with that in this story. I feel writing the entire flashback in italics is more than enough, especially after the character indicates that he is remembering the flashback. Tell me what you think though.
Chapter Four
He was immune to every illness known to mankind. He could recover from the most devastating of injuries. But for crying out loud, why did he still have this pounding headache?
Nicholas contemplated that perky sense of humor that only God Himself possessed, as he massaged the temples of his forehead on the way from the guest room to Horton's office. They were in the New York based motherhouse of the Watchers Society, an ancient and hidden league of people dedicated to preserving and studying the history of immortals. The house itself was a mansion that had been built in the early days of the Revolutionary War. As he approached the office, Nicholas felt the buzz, indicating that Richard was all ready hard at work, chronicling the events of the previous night.
"Good morning Nicholas," Horton greeted him as he entered. "Care for a little breakfast?"
James Horton's office was more like a small apartment than a workspace. There were three large mahogany desks. One belonged to James, and the other two belonged to his two apprentices. Richard was at his desk pounding away at the keyboard of his laptop with a plate full of toast, miniature muffins and donuts, and a large glass of pomegranate juice. James sat a small breakfast table, reading a pamphlet full of news articles from various sources. A hot pot of tea sat in the center and an empty plate in front of him. Nicholas gratefully helped himself to a cup of tea and asked the maid for some aspirin.
"I see you keep my student well fed," he said.
James looked up from his reading.
"Well, he does earn his keep. Even after last night's disappointment I trust him more than I trust you."
"Oh, not this again."
"I'm risking my career and my life doing this," Horton reminded him. "Does it ever occur to you that I hate this course of events as much as you do? But I don't leave tasks unfinished, no matter how unpleasant."
"I couldn't kill Macleod there," Nicholas said, trying to keep his calm. "There were too many witnesses who saw us fighting. And in any case the quickening would have drawn way too much attention."
Richard looked up from his work. "Can I just say something?"
Horton looked at him.
"A lack of permission has never been your problem." He pointed out.
"Funny. Look, we're forgetting a few things here. Nick, you've had this pact with Duncan ever since your days as The Vampire, right?"
"Don't remind me."
"Well, you just betrayed him. And from what I've read, Duncan Macleod is not someone who takes betrayal lightly. Not to mention that you took his sword, which he probably had ready to sell to a buyer all ready."
"An excellent point," Horton said. "But how do we exploit this knowledge? We've all ready tried luring Macleod with his greed before. It cost us one of our most powerful allies as you recall."
Warehouse security had been relatively easy to take out. Duncan thought it to be rather easy, but it didn't bother him where the object of his mission was concerned. There were rows and rows of variously colored metal containers stacked at least several feet high, all unmarked. It was a clever rouse specifically meant to dissuade thieves.
Red, Blue, Orange, Yellow, Blue, Blue, Red…Duncan followed the pattern along the second row from the top. Red, Blue, Orange, Blue, Blue, Red, Blue, Blue-aha!
Duncan brought a rope and a grappling hook. He was skilled in its use having been taught under the guidance of a Ninja master in 1779. The hook hit its mark, two or three stacks above his target, and he began climbing the moment when he was sure the rope was taut.
It was a simple matter of prying the box open with a crowbar and some elbow grease. Duncan flicked on a flashlight and shone it inside. The container was empty accept for an object covered by a tarp in the back. He found it easy to crawl in and get to the object.
Duncan's heart pounded with excitement and the welcome feeling of a job well done washed over him. Already he began to count the enormous figures that would be wired into his account when the job was over. He gently removed the tarp and found nothing but a few carefully stacked cinderblocks. A Christmas card with a picture of the Three Wise Men following the star of Bethlehem was crammed into the hole of the top cinder block.
"What the hell is this?" Duncan unfolded the card and read:
Sorry for the rouse my friend. If we'd met under different circumstances you might find this even funnier than I do right now, but alas that can't be so.
Signed, the Fourth Wiseman
It was then that Duncan felt the buzz. He returned to the entrance of the container and looked out into the warehouse. Someone was nearby, but not in plain sight. Duncan climbed back to the ground and swiftly drew his katana.
"Show yourself," he called out.
Duncan looked behind and in front of him, stalking slowly towards the entrance. Then, someone stepped out from behind one of the boxes, blocking his retreat. The warehouse doors were wide open and bright lights flooded the building. Duncan winced but held his ground as the immortal came closer.
He was dressed mostly in black accept for the green trench coat. He had feathery brown hair and an angular face accentuated by bright brown eyes. He held his sword out in challenge, but his demeanor was confident and cool, like old rivals meeting on a football field for a friendly match. Duncan wasn't deceived.
"So, the legend really does exist," he said, making his stance. "You know there never was a fourth horseman."
"That's one version of events," Methos responded, grinning. "I remember them quite differently."
"You know I have a bust that once belonged to you," Duncan said. "It's over three thousand years old and worth a fortune in its current condition. What do you say I let you have it and we call this a night."
"That's not quite what I'm here for," Methos said. "Right now nothing more than an ice cold beer from some European brewery would make me happy. And I have plenty of friends who'll lend me one of those. More friends than you'll ever have I imagine."
Duncan snorted.
"Maybe I was wrong," he said, with a laugh. "No one who has lived as long as they say you have would attach himself to these children. They're young and supple one minute and then worm food the next."
"Well then, you'll have something in common with them."
Duncan charged. Methos ran to meet him and the blades rang. They were evenly matched at first, but Methos changed his tactics frequently, forcing Duncan to rethink his own moves as he went along. Whatever attack he came up with Methos had the defense for, and never once did the older man lose his footing, forcing Duncan to fall back a few times. Finally Duncan changed tactics and ran.
Methos followed close behind. Duncan grabbed his rope and climbed back up to the open crate. He then cut the rope to keep Methos from following and he began to climb up to the top most stacks.
Methos sheathed his sword and climbed up the hard way, gripping the metal scaffolding and pulling himself up.
"You owe me a round for this one James," he groaned as he cautiously looked over the top. There was plenty of room to move around but Duncan was scarce. Methos glanced back at the ground floor to see if Duncan might have made another run for the entrance. But his instructions were for someone to honk the horn if he tried to escape.
Methos got to his feet again and surveyed the area. There were a few small gaps between the boxes and he took a cautious glance down each one before jumping to the next one. He drew his sword again and listened for the sound of another breathing body. He didn't have to wait long. Duncan jumped out from beneath a set of boxes and swiped, missing Methos' spine by a few inches. Methos swung upwards and gave Duncan a flesh wound across the stomach.
"Maybe I should challenge you when you're toilet trained?" Methos taunted as he parried Duncan's blade. "You know you're practically a fetus."
"And you're just aged to perfection aren't you?" Duncan retorted jumping over to the next box to avoid Methos' attack.
The sound of metal against metal echoed against the walls of the warehouse. Methos continued to force Duncan to boxes in the center. Duncan caught the blade of Methos' sword and forced it over to the side, taking control of his opponent's center. Methos tripped into an opening between two boxes and grabbed the next box over to keep from falling under. His sword clattered against the titanium mesh that supported the weight of the boxes. Duncan made a swipe for his head and Methos grabbed his ankle, dropping the rest of the way down. Duncan screamed in pain as Methos weight snapped his ankle and he fell on his back, losing his sword temporarily. Methos let go of his ankle and hit the mesh. He grabbed his sword and ran between the boxes while Duncan pulled himself back up and picked up his katana. He lay there for a few agonizing moments while the quickening healed his ankle.
Methos climbed back up to a box on the farthest side of the scaffold. Duncan got to his feet, seething. This was personal now.
Duncan charged. Methos twirled the sword in his hand for show and parried Duncan's thrust with expert speed and skill. He thrust and Duncan parried, Duncan swung and Methos caught the blade, turning the momentum against his opponent.
Methos gave Duncan a wide berth, careful to avoid falling over the ledge. Not that it would kill him permanently, but he couldn't guarantee he'd wake up again.
"Why?" Duncan asked.
"Why what?"
"The tattoo on your wrist, I know who they are. Why do you work for them?"
"Some of us have histories we'd rather they not know about," Methos said, circling as Duncan did. "At least one of us needs to be in there to keep them from finding out everything."
"They should all be killed," Duncan said. "I could have so much more respect for you if you didn't work for them."
"And I could have more respect for you…if you were less of an idiot."
Duncan rushed. Methos parried Duncan's sword, and bent his back and used his leg as leverage. Duncan's speed and weight turned against him and he flew over Methos and fell to the ground twenty feet below. The resulting impact and the loud crunch ensured Methos that half of his job was done. Now it was time to get down there and finish it.
A few men approached Duncan's body armed with guns incase he should wake again. They wanted this over once and for all. Methos made his way down the scaffolding and finally jumped the last few feet to the floor
"Thanks for your help gentlemen," Methos said, pulling his sword out and getting ready for the final blow. "But as you can see we're about to wrap this up quite nicely."
A shot was fired. A man went down. Methos looked up confused as two more men went down. The last man waved his gun in all directions frantically trying to find the shooter. Methos saw a red dot flash on the man's forehead.
"Get down!"
But it was too late. The man had a third eye before he had a chance to move.
Methos made a move to find cover but not before a bullet caught his left leg, forcing him down. A second bullet took out his shoulder and his sword went flying. Duncan woke up, pleased to see Methos on the ground and unarmed.
"On a scale of one to ten," Duncan said, getting to his feet and picking up his katana. "How stupid do you think I am Methos? Do you think I haven't always known you were with the Watchers?"
Before the quickening could totally heal Methos' bullet wounds could heal Duncan positioned himself over his body.
"You will die," Methos promised, drawing his final breaths.
"Too bad you won't be there to see it." Duncan responded before beheading Methos.
The sound of gunfire outside the warehouse was drowned out as he absorbed the quickening of the oldest living immortal.
Nicholas shuttered as the memory faded back into the recesses of his mind. Though he wasn't present for the event, Duncan never tired of bragging about what he called his "greatest kill ever".
"Duncan won't be lured again," He said. "He's far too smart to fall for that trap again."
"Well maybe it is," Richard argued.
The maid returned with a glass of water and some pills for Nicholas. Another maid came in with a hot pan full of bacon, which she offered to James and Nicholas.
"Oh, thank you," Richard jumped up and helped himself to a handful of bacon. The maid looked at him with silent disgust while he wolfed down a few pieces at a time. James helped himself to a few pieces and Nicholas declined.
When the maid left Richard continued to speak with a mouthful of bacon stuffed to once side of his cheeks.
"That time you tried fooling him with a patsy. This time he won't fall for it unless he knows it's going to be the real deal." Richard swallowed and went to his desk to finish his pomegranate juice. "I say we set the bait up in a museum. You know, drop some expensive item of ours that the every billionaire in the world would sell his own mother's lungs for. Macleod won't resist it."
"And a deer might not resist a salt lick," Horton pointed out. He got up and offered a napkin to Richard. "But once it hears the click of a gun barrel it's libel to run off just as quickly. If Macleod senses another immortal in the area he'll avoid it all together, and before he even considers the target he'll have his employees check out the area."
Richard wiped his mouth off and sat back down.
"Well it was just a suggestion," he muttered.
"Not that we don't appreciate it," Horton remarked over his shoulder. "Now Nicholas, try to remember, the ice you're on is just barely getting strong enough to support your weight. If you want to redeem yourself fully than Macleod's head is the only way to do it."
Nicholas swallowed the pills and drank the water. So far he couldn't tell if they were doing him any good. A stiff drink might have helped.
"Then perhaps its time to play by his rules," he thought out loud.
"What do you mean?" Horton asked.
"Duncan doesn't play fair. We've seen that with Methos and with countless other immortals," Nicholas explained. "He battles the juniors and has a sniper waiting for the ones he finds he can't handle. Maybe it's time we broke the rules."
"A wise notion," Horton said. "You realize I would be hard pressed to explain myself to the counsel for interfering this much."
"Uh…James…" Richard spoke up. "At least two immortals have worked for the Watchers Society, including me. I'd say we've broken-"
"Do you want to pull landscaping duty for a second time?" Horton asked, raising his voice slightly.
Richard gulped and went back to finishing his work.
"It's the only thing I can think of." Nicholas said, defensively. "I don't like the idea any more than you do and it'll make me a marked man among my kind. But we're all agreed that Duncan must die, or the prize will undoubtedly fall in his own hands."
Horton sighed. He picked up a piece of toast and began to butter it while he thought.
"I will spare three snipers." He said finally. "Only three. Chose the location and I will position them."
Nicholas nodded in agreement. "I believe it is time Duncan and I met on Holy Ground. Richard?"
Richard looked up.
"When you're done with your report come and find me. I'm going to see that you work off those extra calories."