Flashback: Circa 1100 B.C.
Four horsemen rode into camp with a few newly acquired female slaves being herded in front of them like sheep. The sun was slowly beginning to set for the day just beginning to cast long shadows across the hills. Three of the horses were what would be called bay's. These are a dark brown color with blackish brown legs, and carried upon then 3 men all wearing dark black leather armor. The fourth horse was white with gray legs, and carried on it was a man in white garments and a brown leather breastplate. They all got off their horses as they entered the encampment. The three men in black all have different samoan like tattoo's on their faces, while the man in white had the left side of his face covered in blue.
"Come let us celebrate, divide our bounty," exclaimed the grinning man in black with a large axe strapped to his back!
"I am tired, keep my share Silas," this reply from the man in white only made his grin larger.
"Thank you brother Methos," he said. "I'll return the favor someday."
Methos tied up his horse to a hitch next to his tent and drew back the entrance flap to his tent and walked inside. A woman in a white linen like dress handed him a wooden cup filled with cool water. He sat on a poorly hand crafted stool and took a long gulp of its contents.
Desire to please written all over her face as she said, "I cooled in the river for you."
"Thank you Cassandra, you did well," he replied letting her take a strip of cloth to wipe the dirt from his face and hands. Enjoying the moment Methos reached over and pushed a strand of her hair behind her right ear. He was about to reach down and kiss her when another one of the men in black entered his tent. This one had a large ugly scar reaching vertically from his cheek across his eye and ending on the upper part of his forehead. "Kronos."
"She is quite a prize, brother," he said as he reached into a basket nearby. "The best fruit in the camp even."
Methos looked at him with a blank unreadable expression, "No better than any of the rest."
"Maybe its just better in here. You seem to have taught her well in everything, and you seem to prefer her above all the others," Kronos claimed. "You wouldn't perhaps be getting attached... would you?"
Methos stood up and took a step towards Kronos and away from Cassandra, "No."
"Good... I wouldn't think you would make a mistake like that brother." threatened Kronos. "It's time to share the spoils of war I think."
Methos stood still for a moment his face devoid of all emotion. A few heartbeats later he strode past Kronos and went to the other side of the tent and began to busy himself with a few scrolls there laying on the desk. Kronos stepped forward to the girl who had a shocked look on her face and grabbed one of her wrists.
"No," she exclaimed while trying to pull her wrist out of his grasp.
"Oh ho ho, she's a spirited one brother..." he claimed and then gloated as he looked down at her. "After I finish, maybe I'll let Caspian have her."
"No... no! Methos please... please Methos!" she pleaded at the man she had come to love who was standing there a few feet away with his back turned to the spectacle.
He stood there one hand still fidgeting with a scroll trying to ignore what he heard. His other hand was so tightly balled up in a fist that blood was starting to drip down to the ground from where his nails had broken through the skin.
Seeing the apparent betrayal from her love Cassandra redoubled her efforts to get away from the demon trying to take advantage of her. She tried to slap him, but he just grabbed her hand with his free one. Kronos had a glimmer in his eye as he looked down at the girl almost as if to say 'what now,' and she responded by sinking her teeth into the wrist that held one of her arms.
"You... Bitch!" exclaimed Kronos as he pulled back his hand. Wasting no time he backhanded her across the face. "It seems she might be in need of a bit more training... Eh Methos?"
Using every ounce of pure willpower he had accrued over the past 2000 years Methos fought to keep himself silent. Facial muscles twitched, and he accidentally crushed the scroll he had been fiddling with, but he was successful in keeping himself from turning around and killing the man touching his woman. He cringed internally as he heard Kronos grunt after the sound of a feminine palm impacting hard muscle.
"Yes..." Kronos hissed and he slammed his fist into Cassandra's face. "I think..." his fist aimed above her left breast. "she needs..." this time her right shoulder. "a little more..." knuckles scrape across her right ear. "training."
Through the sobs and tears came a soft broken voice. "No more please, I'll do it... I'll help, but please no more." She reached up and stated to run her fingers down his chest. As she said this Methos turned around and started pointing at Kronos and then at his hip. At first she didn't understand until she saw the dagger still in its sheath around his waist. Trying to act like she was actually interested, she started to run her hands down to his hips. One stayed at his hips while the other started to part his Hittite fringed kilt. Galvanized by the fact that Methos hadn't abandoned her to her fate, she slowly pulled the dagger out of its resting place taking great care not to make a sound. Her other had started to caress Kronos's upper thighs and he began to grow slightly impatient wanting more. Methos cheered Cassandra on silently.
"Hurry it up," urged Kronos his eyes closed waiting for her mouth to start giving him what he wanted. Cassandra moved forward and aimed herself properly and shoved 8 inches of sharpened iron up his pelvic area stopping somewhere near his spleen. Shock, amazement and immense pain fought a battle on Kronos's face as he fell to his knees and started to assume a fetal position in the vain attempt to alleviate the pain as best as possible, while trying his best to staunch the flow of blood with his hands". She pulled out the dagger and was rewarded with a loud moaning sob.
"I would never be yours," she said, her voice thick with malice as she started to repeatedly plunge the dagger in and out of his back. "Never!"
Methos had to drag her off of Kronos, and recoiled a little in shock at what her first attack had done. "It looks like you decapitated him... pity it was the wrong head."
Cassandra gave off a disturbing giggle, and he poured out his oil lamp on Kronos. "Grab what you can for belongings: Methos told her. "We knew this day would be coming take only what we need."
She in a daze moved to comply with what he had said, and he began to do the same. A short time later they had placed the packs on two of the horses, one being Methos's white stallion. He helped her up on the other horse and went back into his old tent to buy them some time as Kronos was beginning to heal. Kronos didn't even twitch as more lamp oil was poured on him, nor did he notice a lit lamp also fall on him. He did notice a few moments later as his whole body was engulfed in flames, Fortunately for him the added pain coupled with his previous injury's caused him to pass out and die.
"Lets go," Methos said after he swung himself upon his horse. "We need to be far away before he revives, even though it will take a number of days before he can even move."
Through the night flew Methos and Cassandra on horses. Ahead, the lights of lamps and torches flickered like stars from the huge hulking shadow on the plain, which was the city of Troy. Soon, Cassandra would be safe in the city that has resisted the Greeks for over nine years. She was now almost laying her head on her horse's flapping mane, bouncing with the animal's running gait. The Immortal understood. She was dazed and trying to deal with the trauma of her experience with Kronos.
Soon, they turned a corner around a square tower to the gate hidden by it, pulling their horses to a halt. Methos quickly dismounted and rapped a series of knocks to signal his code to the guards within. The noise of men grunting and moving the blocking wood came through the heavy doors and one of the gates swung just wide enough for one horse to go through.
Methos looked up the streets branching out in winding narrow ways, some of which climbed up the hill on which Troy was built. Lamp-fire burned in windows of houses stacked against and on each other. He nodded his thanks to the gate guards and turned the horses up a climbing street, hooves clattered on the cobble stones.
After climbing up ramped and stepped streets, Methos finally came out into a small square. The royal palace stood on the highest point of the hill at a narrow end of the walled city.
Bright torch fire filled one end of the square where Methos could see a ceremony being conducted in front of a temple. In the middle of the small crowd of priests and soldiers, he could see King Priam directing two priests to lead a white bull up to an altar on the temple steps. Methos pulled the reins of both horses over into the crowd. The wizened king looked up and smiled gladly.
"Methos! Have you brought the armies of the Hittite Empire for us?"
Methos grinned good-naturedly. Even though the king at far away Hattusas has decided to be neutral in the war between Troy and the Greeks, Priam had turned that request into a game with the Four Horsemen. Light humor was precious in times of war.
Methos gestured behind to Cassandra dozing off on her horse. "O King, I beg leave for royal protection for the lady. She has been…violated."
The silver beard of the aging king shook as he nodded. "Bring her into the temple. Sanctuary will be granted." With that, he turned back to the altar and expertly drew his gilded iron dagger across the white bull's neck, spurting blood into the altar's bowl filled with burning incense. "With this blood," old Priam shouted up to the night sky, "I call upon the goddess of punishment, Nemesis, to smite the foreigners whose greed put this great city in peril!"
Methos grunted with satisfaction and turned Cassandra's reins over to a priestess. The young woman was muttering in her tortured dreams.
"Beware Greeks bearing gifts…. No. A great horse brings death…. Tears, fire, murder, rape! No..."
The priestess shook her head sympathetically at Cassandra's sleepy rant and led her horse up the steps into the temple's porch. Methos then mounted and kicked his horse's sides, sending himself clattering back down the streets to the gates. He still had business to take care of in his camp.
Present
A clash of metals and sparks fly around Methos lighting him as if he had a halo. He ducked under an overhead sweep and swung his sword across Akharin's shin, who stepped back avoiding the loss of limb. Akharin reversed his swing and brought his blade down for a slash at his opponents chest only to be blocked with his Ivanhoe. Again and again he swung on the attack forcing Methos to defend and retreat from the onslaught. The two part for mere moments to catch their breath. Methos assumed a front stance with his Ivanhoe while Akharin chose a high stance, his gilded rapier above his head pointing at his target. They slowly circle one another looking for a weakness until Akharin spots an opportunity and returns on the offensive pushing Methos slowly into a corner. Hard pressed Methos stumbled and Akharin spied his chance swinging his sword at Methos's unprotected neck.
Flashback: Circa 1100 B.C. Several weeks later...
Methos admired how the moon shone through the breaks in the tree canopy of the forest. The forest finally thinned at where a creek babbled out of the woods. He jerked his reins, stopping in shock at the sight through the thinning trees.
There was great impregnable Troy, burning, its great towers becoming topless. Burning like a huge sacrifice on an altar for the gods to feast upon. Kicking his horse's sides, Methos galloped at top speed across the plain to the city. How did it happen? How could it be possible? The city was impregnable, resisting a nine-years siege! Who's doing it? The Greeks have given up the siege and left, leaving a huge wooden horse as a peace offering. So who's doing was this?
The heat of the burning buildings was almost unbearable as Methos drew up his horse into a square just beyond one of the open gates. The horse was trying to shy away from the heat, the running and screaming citizens as Greek soldiers went on the rampage, pillaging and raping the entire city. Out of an open door, a Trojan girl, not yet deflowered, ran out. But a Greek soldier with a helmet made of boars' tusks, grabbed her and brutally hit her head with the pommel of his bronze sword. As the girl lay stunned on the ground, the warrior hiked up his fighting kilt, showing himself to be already ready and slightly bloodied from previous use.
Before Methos could interfere, the chime of his immortality sense set his head vibrating. He turned to look up a street past the carnage and spotted Cassandra clutching the bulging arm of a warrior. The warrior appeared Sumerian or Babylonian, skin olive dark, trimmed beard in dark oiled ringlets and climbing high on his cheeks. He roughly called out. "Who are you?"
Cassandra nudged the foreign warrior. "That's Methos! Kill him! He's the rapist's friend!"
The warrior drew himself up to his full height and hefted a bronze sword of his own, studying the now surprised Methos. "Ahh, Methos. I am Akharin of Sumer. I have fought in the armies of Sargon the Great, mighty king of Akkad!" He sniffed loudly. "Ahh, the smell of a falling city. Just like when I helped the Lawgiver Hammurabi kill King Rim-Sin of Larsa. I am a killer of kings and Immortals! Come! Let us play the Game!"
Methos frowned. Another Immortal. One almost as old as himself, judging by the names the warrior spouted. "All very impressive, I'm sure, Akharin." With that, he silently drew his sword, the flames of Troy playing on the black metal of the blade.
Akharin widened his eyes at the sword. It was made of the famous Hittite iron. It would easily cleave through his bronze sword. It wasn't a duel he would have liked to fight. He chuckled loudly. "Perhaps it would not be a good idea to have the mortals know of our Game. Next time, Methos! Next time!"
"Cassandra?" Methos called out questioningly.
Cassandra, frustrated at this turn of events, shouted, her eyes full of shocking hate. "I hate you, Methos! I will always hate you to the ends of the world and time! I hate you!"
Akharin chuckled once more, putting his arm around her narrow waist, the soot on his skin dirtying the red sash tying her white linen dress at the waist. "She's a very lovely woman, isn't she? Too bad, she doesn't want you anymore!" Laughter competed with the crackling of the flames turning Troy to ash and with the thunder inside Methos' head as the woman he loved ran off with the other Immortal, disappearing into the milling crowds, into the billowing dark smoke.
Present
Methos eyes blazed with fury as he fell to one knee and rested his sword on his back able to block the incoming rapier with ease. With his sword behind his head blocking Akharin's, Methos leaned forward pulling out a castillon sword thrusting just under the sternum. Akharin grunted in pain and tried to twist his blade at Methos in one final futile attempt.
"There can be only…one!" He gasps and spat at Methos. "And it should not be you!"
Ripping out the castillon drops Akharin on his hands and knees trying in vain to push his insides back where they belong. Methos stood up, took a small step to the side and raised his broadsword above his head.
"Revenge is such a shallow thing after all these years, but I can afford to be petty like that... I AM DEATH!" cried out Methos as he swung his sword down. "And may the gods' monster eat your soul!"
Blood gushed like a geyser, pulsing up and down, driven by the beating of his heart from where the severed head used to be, and Methos prepared himself for what was to come. A large thick mist slowly rose from the corpse and started to encircle the age old immortal starting at his feet and working its way upwards. Lightning in small flashes starts to jump all over the walls and floor, and as if a great spotlight opened up out of nowhere aimed right at Methos flickers on. The mist covers him like a cocoon and slowly starts to seep into his pores. Beams of brilliant white light add to the display highlighting various parts of his body as EPS conduits start to spark flames with savage fury tripping off like circuit breakers. The lightning starts flashing into his body lighting up portions of his skeleton and blossoming outward each time further and further lifting up his body as the mist becomes thicker and thicker. The lights more and more intense almost overwhelming the brilliant flashes of lightning in hue and all the effects begin to expand.
The doors to Briefing Room 2 swish open and kirk walks in seeing Spock with his arms on the table and his head resting on them. "McCoy has found the serum to fix the virus and he has vented it through the whole ship." he told Spock.
"Mother..." he emotionally replied lifting his head to look at the Captain. "I could never tell her I loved her."
"We've got four minutes... maybe five!" Kirk demanded.
"An Earth woman... living on a planet where love... emotion is bad taste." Spock said as Kirk dragged him to his feet.
"We've got to risk a full power start... The engines were shut off, no time to regenerate!" Kirk needed to get that urgency into Spock's mind, so he started shaking his first officer. "Do you hear me? We've... got to... risk... a full powered start."
"I respected my father, our customs, I was ashamed of my Earth..." Spock trailed off as Kirk's hand forcefully slapped him across his face.
There was a short pause as they both looked at each other, then Spock started talking again. "Jim... when i feel friendship for you I'm ashamed"
Kirk wound up and slapped him again. "You've got to..." He backhanded Spock this time. "Hear me!" He tried to slap him one more time but Spock caught his hand. "We need a formula! We've got to risk implosion!"
"Never.. been.. done.." Spock dragged out of himself fighting the virus. Then he stepped to the side and his Vulcan control of his virus-enhanced emotions slipped again. "You have to understand Jim, I've spent a whole lifetime learning to hide my feelings."
Kirk wound up and again slapped Spock hard getting ready to backhand him again when his first officer finally returned the favor and backhanded him back so hard he tumbled backwards over the table and fell over the other side to the floor.
The Captain quickly got up and turned to face his first officer. Kirk was now panting, out of breath due to his effort to get Spock back to sanity. "We've got to risk implosion its our only chance!"
"It's never been done." Spock said sadly shaking his head.
"Don't tell me that answer mr. first officer... It's a theory, its possible!" he yelled. "We may go up in the biggest ball of fire since the last sun in these parts exploded, but we've got to take that 1 in 10,000 chance!"
Spock opened his mouth as if to say something but noticed that his captain's left arm had just faded out of view. Kirk noticed the surprised look on his face and it derailed him from his current thoughts.
"This is highly illogical captain," Spock said. "We aren't even near Tholian space."
"What are you talking about Spock?"
"Your arm... its gone it vanished while I was looking at it." replied the first officer.
"Spock!" cried out Kirk. "I can see through you, what the devil is going on?"
The effects of the quickening expanded again.
Lightning arcs randomly over the whole ship and planet. Parts of the Enterprise start to fade in and out of view. Below on the planet Psi 2000 large cracks in the crust can be see spewing forth enormous amounts of molten magma causing the frozen oceans to erupt in vast bilious clouds of steam. The atmosphere of the planet violently ran from a neon blue like color to an almost black like maroon. The starship then fades completely from view almost as if it had cloaked and a large white explosion of light can be seen from light years in all directions while the planet makes its final convulsions and then disintegrates apart creating a new asteroid field in the Psi 2000 system.
Methos awoke groggily to a series of flashing dark red lights. It took a few moments to for him to slowly swim to total consciousness and recognize where he was. "I am getting too old for this," he muttered.