Assimilation

A Highlander/Star Trek: TNG Crossover

Written by:
Nemesis DarkAngel
(aka E. Bryan Rumph)

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AUTHOR'S GENERIC DISCLAIMER
This is a work of fanfiction... this means that while the plot idea may be mine... the characters, setting, and history of the universe(s) in which the story is set do not belong to me, but are under the sole ownership of their creator. No money was made off of the production of this story, and no electrons were harmed in its posting.

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A damp, cold fog hangs over the city, and most sensible people are home asleep, in their warm, safe beds waiting for the morning sun to burn away the doom and gloom. Yet I am awake, running for my life, and the dawn is hours away.

Why did I have to be a hero? I should have let the mugger have her purse. Now she's dead. Oh god, he just shot her and took it...

Why... why... why? It was just a lousy purse.

No time to think now... gotta run... I can't be killed too...

I risk a glance behind me. I can hear the running footsteps chasing me, can see the shadow of her murderer, and the glint of light off of the gun he is holding. I try to run faster...

I can't let myself be caught... or I'll be dead to, just like her... Oh God, why her? Why... why...

I duck into an alleyway hoping to lose the killer, running for all I'm worth. Lungs burning, eyes stinging. I hear him running behind me... or is that just the echo of my own feet? I can't tell. And I'm too frightened to look.

I keep running...

And running.

Suddenly I stop short. A wall! There can't be a wall... I have to keep moving... I can't get away if there is a wall! I hear laughter behind me, and turn. It is the murderer. The hunter come for his prey. I still try to escape.

Pressing myself to the wall... trying to become part of it, my hands clawing at the stonework, trying to climb it... anything to get away.

"Why?" I whisper as the killer takes aim.

"Why?" I ask as the gun discharges and the hunter smiles.

"Why!" I cry as the bullet pierces my chest...

- - -

"WHY ME!" I scream as I awaken in a cold sweat.

"Please repeat request." inquires a soft, feminine voice.

"What?"

"Please repeat request."

"Huh? Oh... Computer, Lights, one half standard."

"Acknowledged" replies the computer as the light in the room slowly increases.

I get up and walk to the bathroom. Splashing some cold water on my face I study the bloodshot eyes in the mirror.

"You know, after almost 400 years you'd think the first time wouldn't still hurt so much."