This is a prologue for a fic that I was thinking about a few years ago, but never bothered to write. I was web surfing and came across a fan site petitioning for there to be a Methos centered Highlander spin off. Imagine my surprise when I found that I wasn't the only person to think of this. So here is the prologue, and based on the reviews, I'll decide whether or not to write out this fic.
Out of the darkness, the sounds of clanging metal echo through the halls of my châteauin the French country side. The darkness is lighted by momentary sparks from clashing swords. In my many years, I have found that one gains a certain amount of clarity while engaged in life and death battle. You would think that, when fighting for your life, your mind would be centered on one objective only. Survival. Kill your opponent before they have a chance to kill you.
On the contrary, many Tao masters whom I have known say that you should keep your mind clear. You do not think. You react. That split second that you pause to think is more than enough time for your opponent to take your head. It is a dance, and like any dance, the more you practice, the more natural it feels.
I remember the first time I learned to dance. It was, at the time, the most awkward sensation that I have ever experienced. I was supposed to go one way, but my feet wanted to go another. However, the more I practiced the more natural it felt until I was able to do it without even thinking. The same is true when I first picked up a sword. He swings. I parry. I lunge. He dodges. The two of us, locked in a dance to the death.
He swings his barbarian style broad sword. The force of it hitting my blade almost knocks my sword out of my hand, and sends me falling backwards into my den. I quickly get up to my feet just in time to block another blow from this sword.
That thing hits like a ton of bricks, but there is really no skill involved in using a weapon like that. All brawn... No brains. From the looks of the condition of his sword, I would say that he probably bought the damn thing off of one of those sword websites. I wouldn't be surprised if the bloody thing had "Made in China" engraved on it. No matter where he got it, he knew what he was doing. I dodge his attack slashing into his side with my sword. On a normal immortal, a cut like that would have them doubled over, but this big brut keeps coming.
He is nearly half a foot taller than me and easily out weighs me by a hundred pounds. Despite his size, he is amazingly agile for a man his size. He lets out a scream as he lunges his sword at me again. He knocks my sword out of my hand and splinters my antique oak desk which is probably older than he is, in the process. I dive for my sword, but he hits me over the back of my head with the butt of his sword, and then kicks my sword into the next room.
He swings at me again. I dive out of the way, and kick out his legs from beneath of him. He tumbles to the ground, and I make a break to the other room to get my sword. He reaches up, grabs my leg and effortlessly throws me across the room.
He gets back up to his feet, and stalks after me. I lay in the corner of the den. My head is throbbing from that blow that he gave me to the back of my head.
He slowly walks towards me. He is clutching his side, where I cut into him earlier. Judging from the blood stain on his clothes, he is probably feeling pretty light headed due to the loss of blood. He holds his side with one hand and is dragging his sword with the other. He positions himself over me to make the deathblow. He musters what is left of his strength, and with both hands lifts his sword high above his head. I'm pretty much out of it, but I look up at him and see a smirk on his face. I know what he is thinking. It is what they all think. "I am going to be the immortal who takes the head of the mighty Methos." Taking that split second is where he has made his mistake.
I kick has hard as I can, Smashing both his knee caps. He lets out a shout as he drops his sword next to me and falls to the ground. I get to my feet, and pick up his sword. I take a second to think…. No! I almost make the same mistake. I swing his broad sword, cutting off his head, and embedding his sword into the wooden floor.
The darkness of the château begins to fade as his life essence rises from his decapitated body, and the quickening begins. I let out a blood curdling yell as bolts of lightning shoot through the house, lifting me up into the air. His jumbled memories filter into my brain. The antique books on the shelves, one of which is one of the original bibles printed on Guttenberg's printing press, burst into flames. The large picture window looking out into my gardens shatters as another bolt of lightning shoots into me. My body is wracked with pain as the full force of the quickening enters into my body. I am slowly lowered back to the ground as the quickening finally begins to end.
I've taken a lot of heads in my time. I don't even care anymore really. One of the luxuries of being a watcher besides being able to make them think that I don't exist is that I am able to keep tabs on every immortal on the planet. It's not like I'm hunting them or anything. It's more for the piece of mind of knowing that if there are two thousand immortals in the United States, then there are two thousand immortals that will not be coming after me.
I eventually sit up. I don't know how long I was laying there. When you've lived as long as I have, you lose all concept of time. To be honest, I couldn't even tell you how old I am. The only true measure of time that I have been able to use to distinguish the passing of time is the fashion trends of the era. The minutes stretch out into hours, the hours into months, the months into millennia, and suddenly it's 2005.
The memories of my fallen adversary still race through my mind; conversations that he had, people whom he had known. Jumbles of images that are impossible interpret, but suddenly, one image flashes before my eyes and is ingrained into my retinas. He didn't come here alone.
The days come and the days go, and I usually pay them no mind, but, today is different. Today sticks out among all the days of my five thousand plus year life. Because, today is the day that I die.
Well here it is. I know what you are thinking. How the hell can you write a fic when you kill off your main character? Simple, when I originally came up with the idea for this fic,I thought about how cool it would be if they made a Methos spin off to the Highlander, but it was all done in retrospect after he died. So basically, it is as if you found and are reading his journal after he died and he is telling you what his life was like. You can still have interaction with Duncan and all the other characters from the show, but the entire series would be structured around, in my opinion, the best part of every episode. The flashbacks.
Well I hope that you liked this little ditty. If you really liked it, please tell me so in reviews, and if I get enough interest, I'll start posting chapters. Thanx for reading.