San Antonio, 1983. The Spurs stadium was slowly becoming empty, after a disappointing defeat of the local team against the Celtics. Darla took delight in watching her home team again. She had liked basketball since she was a child. She could have been in the school team, had she been taller. Then she felt the call. She glanced behind, to find Victor staring coldly at her. She shivered.
He nodded at her and she followed him down to the garage. It was empty, except for two men leaning on a convertible car, exchanging quick comments, and waiting for them. One was MacLeod. The other's face was not fully at their sight, but he looked more like a teenager. They drew nearer.
"I'm Duncan MacLeod of the clan MacLeod."
Victor grinned. "The Highlander. I've heard a lot about you." Darla flinched. MacLeod was reputed to be a fine swordsman. However, she feared Victor when he became defiant and aggressive like now. "Stay back, pretty."
She obeyed. The two of them engaged in battle. MacLeod was skilled, and had a good variety of movements. However, Victor was the best at his style. She glanced at MacLeod's friend, spotting something familiar about him. Her eyes returned to the fight. Victor had sliced the other's right arm, and with the same movement, cut his belly. Then he punched MacLeod so strongly the Highlander could not hold his sword and, as his weapon, fell to the ground. "THERE CAN BE ONLY ONE." Victor yelled as he bounced his sword up and then down. Another blade blocked the blow firmly. Darla's.
"Don't do it, Victor!" She begged.
He glared in surprise. Never had she opposed him before. "Move away, girl," he bellowed. He pushed her away and put the sword up again.
"PLEASE!" she cried.
Victor hesitated for two full seconds, then moved away. She sighed gratefully and stared at MacLeod, who was being helped up by his apprentice, who was smiling in relief. That smile. She had seen it before. The bitter memories of her death rose up. He was one of the pigs, the one that had got away. She put up her sword and stormed towards them, under her master's astonished look.
"SON OF A B----!" she cursed as she tried to slice the kid in two.
The kid retreated and clumsily produced his own sword. MacLeod stood between them and spoke. "Despite what he's told you, we don't have to fight each other."
"This is between him and me. You can't interfere." She shrieked with rage.
"Duncan..." the kid asked fearfully.
"She's right..." the Highlander said. "But whatever outcome, there will be no more deaths tonight." The words were not aimed at either of the apprentices, but at Victor, who nodded. MacLeod got on the car to watch from there.
It did not last long. She lunged forward, disarming him with the first blow, and slicing his chest with the other. The loser fell to his knees and begged for mercy. She swung up her sword to finish it, and then let the blade tear the kid's head and body apart. A smile drew on her lips, which gave place to a horrified smirk a second later. Some blood was on her face. MacLeod was driving away. She turned to face Victor, who was staring with a mixture of approbation and surprise. She had passed the unexpected test... with honours.
Energy shook her. It tore her up and down. Every fibre of every muscle of her body vibrated in pain and pleasure. She heard the kid's silent screams inside her and she shrieked too. The Quickening made her soar. When over, she fell to the ground and broke into tears. She could still hear him. Farther, Victor was walking away...
-----
Darla was trying on a shirt at a shop. How fun had Dawson and MacLeod looked when they learned she had been Victor's apprentice, and that Victor was actually the Kurgan. However, it had not been fun for her learning it then. She went to pay for the clothes and noticed a woman staring intently at her. She had seen her before... many times. Probably it was her Watcher. She waved at her, who looked away and then vanished. Dawson had commented she had found information on her. Scattered bits belonging to an "unidentified immortal", who was watched by a woman whose name he wouldn't reveal. Doubtless, it was that woman.
She left the shop and spotted her talking to a man. They seemed to know each other. As she went away, the man headed to a black van and drove away. Darla called a taxi and told the driver to follow the black vehicle. She hated those imbeciles interfered with the Game, and would do everything within her reach to get rid of them.
Half an hour later, she was getting off at the open entrance of a private golf club, isolated from the city. She sneaked in, hid behind some bushes, and dialled a number on her cellphone.
"Dawson? This is Darla Hails. I found the location of these people you're looking for."
"Are you certain it's not one of our places?"
"I'm positive." She replied, having the confirmation only an immortal can have. "Find MacLeod and Methos, and also send in your guys." She gave him the address.
Having sensed that immortal, she knew that the other had sensed her too. She drew out her sword. It was all a question of time now. It did not take long however. A very neatly dressed man with short hair and a moustache walked nearby, wielding what she judged to be a Japanese katana, and smoking a pipe. She appeared before him, being greeted with a look of admiration.
"Greetings, madam." The peculiar accent triggered some stories she had heard. If that man was the immortal of those stories, then the Watchers were right. He was to be feared.
"Greetings, sir. I'm looking for an immortal." She said defiantly.
"I shall be extremely glad to help, if you give me his references." The man replied, always charmingly, and undoubtedly flirting.
"A Spaniard who began to take all the heads he could, in order to grow stronger to save mankind from an eternity of darkness. However, he took many evil heads, thus becoming evil himself, and a greater danger than the one he was trying to prevent. He uses the Watchers to kill all the immortals and become the last one by default."
"That's me. Juan Sanchez Villalobos Ramirez. At your service."
"I'm Darla Hails, and I'm here to stop you."
"I'd like to see you try." She lunged at him. He blocked her blow and kicked her away with much ease. She attacked again and he disarmed her with the same ease, before pushing her to the floor. "Now madam..." two buzzes startled them..."It seems we have company."
A car pulled over nearby and MacLeod and Methos jumped out of it. As they drew nearer, they recognised Ramirez. MacLeod was apprehensive, whereas Methos was just not surprised. Darla was with the blade on her neck.
"Let her go, Ramirez." MacLeod demanded.
"MacLeod... you revolving Scot. My only student who hasn't died by my sword... yet. Hello, Methos."
The Highlander had his sword ready. Ramirez released Darla, and went to fight him. Both swordsmen were thorough in their skills. However, after a while, MacLeod began to lose ground. Eventually, the Spaniard made the other's weapon fly away, and soon put the Scot to his knees. He had played with him.
A chopper was heard and armed men with guns appeared from everywhere. Ramirez retreated, knowing he had to leave. "Till next time, p-nd-j-s." After that, he headed away and soon the sound of a motorbike was heard, going away from there.
MacLeod stood up, embarrassed yet knowing he was no match for Ramirez. Him, Methos and Darla headed back to the car. They drove away, as the just-arrived Watchers took all the renegades down.