VI - Run-up

Once the coroner took the body away, the three immortals were left on their own. Darla found a large empty room, which could have been a dining room. With another spear, she was performing one of the many katas she had been taught in Asia. Her mind was filled with two things: the kata, and the strange golden ladybirds. She had blocked her mind and his father seemed out of it. For the time being, she needed him out.

She did not react when she sensed someone around. She did not check who it was. Neither Victor nor Methos mattered to her. She focused on her movements, only did she stop when she elbowed behind her and hit something hard. She turned and found her mentor looking at her with his usual stiffness. She continued as if he weren't there.

"Can we talk?" He asked with that bellowing voice of his.

She carried on. Right foot kicks upwards, then look left, and hit with spear in right hand as you land on both feet and breathe out. She stood firm with the spear extending up almost attached to her body.

"You will pretend I don't exist?"

She turned suddenly and delivered a blow on his head with the tip of the spear. He stepped back as his brow began to bleed. He smirked and retired, returning a minute later with his massive broadsword.

"I thought that was what you wanted."

Her words let out her bitterness and pain. Victor said nothing, but held his weapon in his right hand, waiting. She made a nod with her head and struck at him. Several blows she delivered at his shoulders and chest, but he parried them all. She retreated to catch her breath. Then he attacked. His broadsword hit the air near the floor after Darla jumped, but he swung it up and hit her on one leg. She fell heavily.

"You're still the dumb apprentice I once met." He said mockingly.

"And you're still the bastard son of a b----h everyone talks about!" she replied angrily as she stood up.

"Hey! Don't you dare talking like that to me!" he spat up.

His next blow landed on the floor and Darla, using her spear as her base, delivered a flying kick on his face. After that, she took her distance.

"You're not my dad. So don't tell me how to speak to you. My dad died because of you. You owe me, Kurgan!"

Darla realised she had called him like everybody did. Not Victor, like she had always done. She wondered if that would hurt him. Victor hurt? No more than she was Joan of Arc. She noticed he had gritted his teeth. Hurt or not, she was sure he had not liked it.

"You want to meet the Kurgan, you pitiful excuse of a woman?" He bellowed. "You pathetic imbecile worm, food of rapists!" Darla was startled by his words. She had the feeling she would meet the Kurgan of legend, rather than the Victor Kruger she had known. He went forward and delivered an astounding blow on her chest. The fierceness of the attack sent her back. "Stupid pet. I should have taken care of you when I had the chance!" He lashed out at her again, this time chopping at her. She opposed her weapon, but he cracked it in three pieces, and split her lips, cut open her shirt and gashed her stomach, all with that single blow. She fell on her back, pain throbbing every fibre of her body. He lowered the sword and knelt beside her. Wounds began to heal and she painstakingly sat down. He put his arm on her shoulders and then embraced her fatherly, something he had never done before. She let the tears flow freely.

"You... you..." she stammered, not sure as to what to tell.

"We will settle this, Darla. I promise." He whispered, in a tone close to kindness. "But Kronos is first..."

-----

"Ever think about the past, ancient one?"

Darla was sleeping in one of the bedrooms. Victor had returned downstairs and found Methos in the living room. At the question, the older immortal left the book he had been reading (obviously, "Stories of the Kurgans") and looked at his company.

"Don't we all?"

"You believe there will be atonement for our actions?"

"We would need at least two thousand years... or letting our heads fall for a good cause." Methos said with a prickle of despondency, and another of realism.

"Like Ke. Is it true he offered his head to Kronos to let her live?"

"Indeed." Methos sighed in distress. "He saved her, and regained his honour in so doing."

Victor looked away. "What do you think would have happened... if I had not taken the Highlander's head?"

Methos smirked. "You would have carried on being the Kurgan of legend. You and him would have met and then it would be a question of luck. If he won, the Game would remain the same as now. If you won..." Methos' face sombered. "The eternity of darkness Ramirez spoke of."

"And her?"

"I... don't know." Methos did not like hypothesising about the past, and possible alternatives to the present reality. The past was past now. All that mattered was the here and now, and getting to tomorrow. "Why? Now you want to go to heaven?"

"Heaven comes to he who waits, Methos. But I know I will be getting nowhere. All the deeds of yesterday..." He stopped, looking for the right words.

"Helped to pave your way?"

"Yes. It's been... a torture lately. A slow, systematic torture by whomever is in charge above or below."

Methos stared blankly, thinking. "Want to check the info?"

"What do you have?" Victor sat beside him in front of the laptop, shaking off the instant of introspection.

"This is Melvin Koren, alias Robert Tempus. There is not much stuff about him. But we know about him." Methos clicked and the image on the screen changed. "Morgan Walker. He recruits top models, and converts them to his prostitution agency. He is a decent swordsman, but is the lesser of our problems." Another click and the image changed again.

"Nice lips. Think what she could do with those." Victor commented jokingly. Methos grinned.

"The lady is Catherine Mary Devaney. Born in Ireland in the dusk of the seventeenth century. This woman had a bad life. She married a butcher. The man was not nice with her, but she killed him before he did. For that the people of her village hanged her. She woke up and came across our old amigo Ramirez, who was already possessed by the dark quickening. He trained her and modelled her to be a perfect assassin... and his personal whore. He nearly killed her before she got away during the French Revolution. She's been getting by as she could ever since."

Victor remained thoughtful for a few seconds. "I can see that Kronos fooled that savage. But I don't understand why the other two are with him."

"Devaney is a survivor. If teaming up with Kronos will ensure she carries on here, she will." Methos spoke with the knowledge of experience. "As for Walker... he wants me."

"Darla's readier than I thought she would ever be."

"I know, but she still needs to work on her concentration, I'm afraid."

"Think she stands a chance against Kronos?"

Methos shook his head. "Age before beauty."

"Where are they?"

"An abandoned factory in Brooklyn."

"Should we visit them?"

Methos yawned. "Tomorrow night. I need to catch some sleep. Here if you don't mind."

"Sure." Victor stood up and headed out, but he heard Methos calling.

"This is not just about Apollonia, right?"

Victor stared back, but did not reply. Methos noticed the sombre look in his face and took the book again. Methos got the feeling things would not end well for them.