Darkness. Cold, silent, complete darkness. Connor MacLeod thought how much time had passed since he had decided to enter the Sanctuary, the place where the Watchers provided a place of rest for immortals who abhorred the bloodshed their lives entailed. On occasions, on a scheduled period of time that seemed unfathomable given his loss of the sense of time, someone would administer them more drugs to keep then in their continuum of rest. However, this quickening was different. Softer, calmer, older than the usual drug-administrator yet younger, way too younger than the other immortals that dwelt there.
His eyes suddenly faced the harsh glimmer of a lantern. Connor blinked repeatedly and squinted at the image of a grey-haired man with a four-day beard who was loosening his grips.
"What... what...?" he mumbled.
"Tell you later, MacLeod. I gotta get you outta here!" was the coarse reply.
Connor found himself on the back of this man, who was dragging him as one drags a friend who has drunk too much and cannot walk properly. His eyes twitched in pain, which became immeasurable when suddenly they confronted daylight.
"Damn!" Connor cursed.
"Come on. They will be here any second now."
They hobbled to a Suzuki Vitara. Connor was put in the rear seat. All dazzled for him.
"What is it?"
"Don't worry, Highlander. I need to get the others out."
The man spoke calmly as he moved away. Connor noticed that he leant on a cane. Suddenly, a female appeared, crying for Connor to leave. The closer she moved, the harsher light became. Then the old man would be seized by a group of men and promptly shot there, as she would...
-----
Inside a bar in the centre of New York, Kronos calmly sipped a Guinness as he read a newspaper two days old. It mentioned something about an unidentified immortal killing a pauper and a pedestrian and slaying a bunch of law enforcement officers. What was the purpose of letting others live to spread his message, if they did not spread their message?
But soon it would not matter anymore. The Gathering was here and now. The head of all the immortals left would fall to his feet and the Prize would be his. Then the world would know him, obey him, and fear him, para siempre.
His eyes departed from the letters when he sensed a presence nearby. It was peculiar how the whole feeling business - that weird tinkle in the head that announced there was another immortal around - had changed since the amount of immortals had lessened. He could sense one within a mile, and it borderlined pain when one was very near. Like now.
A hulk abruptly sat down, so abruptly Kronos did not recognise him at first. The giant scowled at him under a hat, wearing a large raincoat, and a disgusted smirk that could not be disguised. Kronos grinned mockingly.
"Hello, brother," he uttered.
"Hello, Kronos," was the stiff reply
"Do you want a beer? Or maybe something stronger?" Kronos knew his brother had a fancy for alcoholic drinks, a fancy that could only be surpassed by his desire for women, and for ravaging and destruction.
"I left it." The sharp reply stunned Kronos.
"So, Silas," he spoke slowly and softly. "Where have you been?"
"Tibet. I've reflected about my actions."
"Oh..." Kronos smiled evilly "And what was your conclusion?"
"You must pay." Silas blurted out sharply. The centuries of brotherhood meant nothing to him now. Not since he had seen the reality: Kronos was the impersonation of evil, an evil he had followed until the Water Disease was spread. It was then when Silas found out that he was not evil: just misled, and without control of his dark desires.
He had gone to Romania in a quest for peace, where he would meet Colby Clarke. From there they would move together to America. A happy couple they were, her with her finesse and him with his primitiveness, until a quirk of fate revealed one a Watcher and the other an immortal. Just when the hunting had began.
He had fled to Tibet for enlightenment. Methos had suggested it once, and Methos had always been the smartest of them. Silas did not feel like a superior being for being in Tibet. He knew he had not reached the state Hindus call nirvana. He was not even close. But he had reached a level enough to know that Kronos had to die.
"Really?" Kronos folded the newspaper and took another sip. "And what about you, brother? What about your actions?" Silas seemed unbalanced by that. "Let me guess. My death will be your atonement. Well, learn: atonement is impossible for us."
"Methos believed in it." Silas gasped.
"Methos' dead!" Kronos barked, drawing attention. He smiled at the onlookers and lowered his voice. "Maybe we should discuss outside. In the old-fashioned way."
"There's an alley round the corner." Silas proposed stiffly. "I'll be there in five minutes."
Kronos stood up, left a ten-dollar bill and left carrying his leather coat. Oh, the thrills of being feared. With the little show he had mounted recently, no one in the bar would dare reporting a guy in a coat, should he be that slayer that had slaughtered a bunch of cops. But Silas also carried a coat. Indeed, only those who dared breaking the mortal rules made it to the Gathering.
He headed into the darkness of the alley and drew out his ancient broadsword. He warmed his muscles and felt the flow of his weapon. He wondered how his brother would be in the battle. Silas now behaved better, spoke better, and seemed smarter than in their last reunion. However, that proved to be an advantage: if Silas had gone civilised, then the vicious battler had subsided as well.
His head felt another pound in his head. So Silas had been unable to wait for five minutes. A shadow drew in the alley, producing what seemed to be a Japanese katana. Odd, Silas was not fond of such weapons. And he seemed thinner now...
-----
Silas had counted three minutes, basing on the clock above the bar. Then he had felt it. A massive power passing by the bar, heading towards the alley. Whoever that immortal was, he or she had headed towards the strongest of them, Kronos. Silas stood up and stormed out, towards the alley, where he could already feel the clatter of swords.
-----
The immortal dodged his blow and parried another. Kane slammed against him, his blade being promptly blocked. He smirked, thrilled of having found a warrior worthy of his stature. For he had fought the bravest. Though he had remained four hundred years dwelling in a cave, and missed the Kurgan.
His opponent lunged forward and sliced his shoulder. Kane returned a blow that made the other's chest bleed lightly. This man was good, unlike that pitiful Russian he had encountered a few days ago. He had learnt a lot from that louse though. Immortals were prey from humans. Secrecy was advised. Kane did not care about it at all. He would take all their heads, and the world would bear witness to his crowning as the King of the Universe. In the meantime, he got himself better clothes.
"Who are you?" the other growled.
"I am Kane." He hissed.
"Kane?" his opponent's laughter offended him. Kane delivered a blow that hit the wall behind his target. The other had sneaked under and was taking distance. "Kane disappeared in the sixteenth century."
"And now I'm back!" Kane bellowed. "And I've to make up for the lost time."
A new feeling reached their heads. It was surely the other immortal Kane had sensed. A hulkish figure treaded inside the alley, wielding a massive axe. He stood by Kronos, a sudden complicity in his face.
"We ride, brother?" The giant asked. Kronos smirked viciously at Silas' suggestion.
"We ride!"
Silas slammed his axe against Kane's neck. Kane dodged and blocked Kronos' sword, diverting it enough to have a clearance. He retreated.
"Two against one. I don't think so." Kane sliced at the air and suddenly a shape, exactly like him, appeared before him. Kronos and Silas stared bewildered. "Bring it, my friends."
Kronos attacked while Silas remained frozen. Kane #1 blocked his blow while Kane #2 stabbed him in the side. Kronos let out an animal cry as he knelt, his blood kissing the ground. Silas reacted and swung his axe towards #2. But #1 stood in his way so fast he could not defend himself when the large blade of Kane's katana ran through his body and erupted through his back.
Both Kanes guffawed as they mirrored each other's movements, lifting up their swords over the other's necks.
"There can be only one." They chanted before slicing off the heads of the surviving members of the Four Horsemen of Apocalypse.
Kyra awoke with a start, so drenched in sweat her pinkish nipples were visible through her white sleeping tee shirt. Kenny woke up next, sweaty as well and feeling pain in his head. Katana followed, his face a statue, his left socket patched with a torn piece of cloth from Kyra's shirt, his heart itched of concern. Jacob Kell was next. He knelt and began to prey.
Connor had already awoken, following the dream of his release from the Sanctuary. The dream had not been accurate. Amy had not been there, the old man had not been caught. He had simply put Connor in the car and the car had driven away and left him in a random spot, clothes and his katana with him. The implications of the dream had been uncertain... till now. He held his head fatefully, sensing the two quickenings joining a third one which was more powerful.
Following the Watchers' visit, the immortals owed themselves a night of sleep. The two cops had phoned their families and ordered them out of New York City, and now, despite having undergone the same as the immortals, the former IPS were mounting guard as they worriedly eyed the reactions of the others.
"Oh my GOD!" Kyra cried.
"We're doomed! We're doomed!" Kenny burst into tears, being immediately held by the Spartan, who embraced him tightly against her chest.
"It was Kronos..." Connor hissed "... and Silas too."
"What happened?" Stern asked gloomily. Neither dared reply, save Kell.
"The beginning of the end."
