"So, MacLeod. What is it like to have lived for that long?"
Connor was sitting in front of Muldoon, them separated by a desk. He had been offered Glenmorangie, an offer that he could not refuse. Muldoon was sipping his burgundy. Around them, four armed were focused on every single movement the Highlander did. Connor's face showed signs of exhaustion. Despite everything, the atmosphere was rather relaxed.
"An endless repetition of events that I hoped would en1d after the Gathering. But I'm still playing. A different game, but still playing."
"Don't worry. You'll be worm food by the next hour."
"Why waiting?" Connor replied gaily.
"I wanted to know about some of your extinct kind, especially the oldest ones. For instance, what can you tell me about Methos?"
Connor laughed. "It doesn't work like that. His life is not available to me instantly. "
"What about... Khronos?"
"Try a clock."
"Fun enough. I grant you that. My wife had a great sense of humour."
Muldoon appeared to struggle against emotion for a few seconds. Connor researched his mind. The Kurgan had killed her, in the aftermath of his battle against Oshta Vazilek. Dim flashes of that moment exploded in Connor's mind, stemming from the part of the Kurgan inside him, and that twisted and evil point of view. He had punched her, then raped her viciously. She had struggled but it had only boosted him. When he was done, he broke her neck.
"I'm sorry for how she died."
"What can you know about that?" Muldoon asked irritated.
The door opened, and two men appeared, bringing a handcuffed Eric Garfield with them. The guards that were in the room left. Garfield was badly bruised, and blood flowed out of his nose and mouth. His forehead was swollen.
"Eric." Muldoon muttered. "This is treason. You know the rules."
"Shut up, Muldoon. The Game has been over for too long. Our purpose is long gone."
"But I have brought you a new purpose." Muldoon replied as if he were some sort of saviour. "The death of the last of the immortals."
Yells were heard from somewhere else. Female yells. Eric's face shuddered when he heard them. Connor caught a glimpse of his face, and realised there was something between him and Amy. It was not love. It was something more solemn. A feeling he could never truly under understand, not even by intruding in Garfield's mind.
"Where is she?" Garfield demanded.
"She's with Nicole. Girl stuff." Muldoon said cynically.
Connor shook his head bitterly. He was too vigilated to do anything. Eric was glancing at him.
"MacLeod" he uttered. "Can't you break free?"
"No, he is not that strong to do it and get away with it." one of the guards joked.
"Right." Garfield grinned. "HE is not that strong. HE is not that strong." He exchanged a quick look with Connor. "But he could still make you wipe your ass in public."
The guard punched Garfield hardly, sending him to the floor, where he began to kick him. The other joined the party. Eric was gasping in pain. No one watched Connor. Just what he needed. The Highlander closed his eyes and his body started to change. It became larger and better built. A scar appeared on his throat. All his hair disappeared. An evil grin posed on his face.
Muldoon had been attentive to Garfield when he perceived the glow coming from Connor's side. All the determination was gone. His eyes widened and a bitter sensation of panic possessed him. The giant in front of him lifted him up in the air and threw him at the other men. Muldoon landed over them, and the three of them ended up in the floor.
"Go help Amy!" Garfield begged.
-----
Connor, returning to his normal appearance, climbed down the stairs, and followed the shrieks to a closed door. He opened it and froze for a second at the image before him. Amy was naked up to the waist. Her wound had not been treated, and blood slowly flowed off her shoulder. Nicole, Garcia and another man were touching her in the most vexing and filthiest of ways.
When noticed, the three Watchers stared. Connor smirked angrily and made a nod with the head, before going to the reception room. The trio walked out after him, each holding a different kind of sword. Nicole wielded her rapier, and Garcia the dragon-hilt katana that used to belong to Duncan MacLeod. The third man used a peculiar kind of broadsword.
"Well, Connor. Here we are." Nicole mocked. "Where's your weapon?"
The Highlander extended his arms forward. In his hands, a blade began to take shape. It was not the wakizachi. It was a larger sword, one that could enable him to strike harder against his opponents. He grasped the sword by the hilt with his right hand when it was ready and touched the double-edge blade with the index finger of his left hand. It felt like the real sword he had used more than four hundred years ago. He read the inscription written where the blade began. "MACLEOD."
"Nice claymore." Garcia said. "Too bad it won't do."
He lunged at Connor and tried to stab him frontally. His opponent remained motionless until he was close enough. Then Connor stretched his arm forward and let the traitor impale against his claymore. Jerk, he thought as the traitor plummeted to death.
The other man attacked next. Connor blocked the upward blow, and punched the bastard in the face. As the other retreated, the Highlander swept his leg, making him fall, and then dug the blade in the chest. A gasp followed. Silence was all that was left.
He let the claymore disappear. It had served its purpose well. He picked the katana and faced Nicole.
"Nice, Connor. But will you be able to kill me as you killed them?"
Connor twisted his armed hand before attacking. The first blow he delivered, aimed at slicing her shoulder, was promptly blocked. The second one, intending to slice her chest, was deflected. He retreated. She went forward and thrust against his left arm. He blocked the blow but she moved her sword over his and made a cut in his face. She stepped back, smiling and pleased at what she had done. Connor wiped the blood off his face, and grinned confidently.
"Oh, Lillian. Look what you've done. You stripped my heart, ripped it apart, and now you think that because you cut my cheek... you have a shot?"
She attacked again, targeting at his groin. He blocked the attack and struggled with her. Slowly, he managed to push her sword downward using his. Her guard low, Connor had no impediments when he made a deep, strong and fatal vertical cut that ran from her stomach to her throat by swinging his sword swiftly upward. She fell, gasping in more rage than pain.
"Connor..." she mumbled.
"Goodbye, Nicole. Send my regards to my friends in Hell."