Chapter 3
Disclaimer: As much as I wish, I do not own Stargate: SG1, Highlander the Series, or any recognizable characters. Any character that you do not recognize are mine to use and abuse as I see fit. Everyone else will eventually be returned, but they might be a bit scuffed.
The next few days passed in a blur. Methos had gotten ahold of a few friends to get a better explanation of what was going on in the world of Immortals.
Heinrich Mann was a software engineer for the Watcher and had managed to make off with several copies of fights between Immortals. Then, he had dumped nearly a dozen videos onto the Web for all to see, in addition with his appearance on CNN. He also sent pictures and biographies of several Immortals to other news outlets like MSNBC, Fox News, the BBC, Al Jazeera, the AP, Reuters, and the network news.
It was a nightmare.
So much of their lives were thrown to the masses, with little chance of relaying context and the stories behind the sensational videos of beheadings. All the public saw was someone murdering another person in a brutal fashion, not understanding that sometimes the loser was psychotic or beyond depraved, that he or she needed to be killed for the greater good of society.
Stories of legendary Immortals were thrown out for the public to devour like starving lions. They were told about The Elder, Dilijan, Darius, Epictetus Cuspianus, and Matshiro Kanagawa. Angelina and Robert de Valicourt were exposed, as were Jacob Kell and Andre Korda. The MacLeods and Amanda were also revealed.
What really captured people's attention and imaginations were the stories of the Four Horsemen and their friend Hades. Pictures of Kronos, Caspian, and Silas were shown. Luckily there weren't any pictures of Death and Hades to be had, but Daniel knew it was only a matter of time. Stories were told of how the Horsemen rode a path of destruction across three continents; it was shared how they were blood-thirsty Immortals, happy to leave a trail of murder and chaos in their wake. Kronos's plot to reintroduce the world to the terror of the Horsemen was also revealed. The story of how he wanted to use bio-warfare and kill France was especially highlighted.
The idea of The Game was revealed. People were told that in the end there could be only one Immortal left who would have the power to rule over all beings on the planet.
The public ate up the stories and public opinion waffled between amazement and curiosity to terror and anger. There were people who wanted to learn the stories of these people, to learn about the history of the planet and events that had faded over time. There were also people who wanted to see that these monsters were killed; they swore these things wouldn't be allowed to rule over the humans.
There was also a third group of mortals who had another outlook on the Immortal population. They saw these creatures as a potential weapon to be used against others. They saw the Immortals as a puzzle that needed to be solved, to see what use they would have for the greater good of society, or, more likely, the benefit of a rogue, power hungry group.
In the meantime, Daniel and the others kept their heads down, careful to not garner any extra attention, praying that they wouldn't be revealed to the public at large.
As it was, Daniel was off-world, working with SG-22. It was supposed to be a normal recon of an alien world and ruins. It wasn't supposed to be a difficult assignment. There wasn't supposed to be angry locals. That said, it was full of things that weren't supposed to happen.
The weather turned to shit; it started raining cats and dogs (not literally) in the middle of the day. The ruins, due to the crazy rainstorm, ended up half buried in mud and muck. The locals were super pissed that off-worlders were walking across land that they considered sacred. They were armed with bows and arrows. The three of the four members of SG-22 were shot, though their wounds were not immediately lethal. Daniel was also shot. An arrow hit his right thigh, causing him to stumble and curse. It wasn't lethal in the least, but it was an injury that would be noticed and he didn't have Janet to help hide his status as an Immortal.
The group made it back to the Stargate and managed to gate home. Once home, the medical teams whisked the men away.
Daniel sat there, arrow in his leg, refusing to complain, despite the fact that the appendage felt like it was on fire. He was guessing that the arrow tips had been coated with something poisonous. He had been shot several times before and this didn't feel like a normal wound. Also, his head felt weird again, almost floaty.
Unfortunately, one of the men of SG-22 had an adverse reaction to the poison and had a seizure, thus delaying having the arrow pulled out.
Finally, Lieutenant Anderson, a nurse, was able to get to Daniel's leg. She cut open his pants' leg, exposing the injury. She wanted to be delicate about it, not wanting to cause more damage to the leg than necessary.
Daniel sighed, praying that Linda was the understanding and discrete type. He didn't know her well, but she always seemed pretty nice. "Pull the curtain," he said quietly, keeping his voice down.
She did as he said, but was still confused.
Once the fabric had been extended around the exam bed, Daniel leaned over and yanked the offending arrow cleanly from his leg.
Lt. Anderson couldn't help but gasp in surprise and horror at seeing her patient do something so incredibly foolish. She also then noticed streaks of lightning racing across the wound, healing it an impossible rate.
Daniel looked at her coolly, his face betraying zero emotion.
"You're a," she exclaimed softly, but was quickly interrupted by Daniel.
"Yes, but I need you to keep this to yourself. Please," he implored the woman, using his sweet, pouty baby blue eyes to help convince her that outing him would not be a good idea. Daniel was not above using all of his tools at his disposal to get what he wanted, and what he wanted was her silence.
"Clean the area, slap a Band-Aid on it, give me some crutches, and keep this between us. My life depends on this. I'll owe you big time," he begged the pretty nurse.
Linda nodded her blonde head, looking slightly scared and worried. She liked Dr. Jackson, like most of the medical staff. She had heard the stories on the news about the Immortals, some telling tales of how they weren't human, but really blood-thirsty monsters who want to rule the world.
Dr. Jackson, at least to her and the other nurses, had been nothing but sweet and kind. He was always offering to help someone, to offer a willing ear, listening to another person's problems and difficulties. He didn't judge anyone, nor make anyone feel bad for poor decisions that they may have made.
Linda, thinking it over quickly, nodded and went about her work. She cleaned up the area around the "wound," taped up a large square of gauze, and found him a pair of crutches that would fit his tall frame.
"Thank you, Linda," he said, smiling at the woman, hoping his faith in her wasn't misplaced.
"Any time Dr. Jackson," she said, smiling softly at the man. Pulling the curtain back, revealing that Captain Sansone was standing near-by.
Daniel blanched a little, upon seeing him. He never liked the man. From the moment that they had met during a training session when the man first applied to be posted to the SGC, Daniel found him to be distasteful. Sansone was a snively, pain-in-the ass that rubbed him the wrong way from the very beginning, always trying to pull "you're just a civilian and I'm military." How Sansone made it into the program, after Jack had dismissed him from PT was beyond Daniel.
The captain gave no indication that he had overheard the conversation between Daniel and Lt. Anderson. He was busy filling out a medical form on a clipboard and didn't look up at the nurse and archeologist.
Daniel prayed to whatever true god that was out there, that the son of a bitch didn't hear a thing and life could go on as normal.
~SG1SG1SG1SG1SG1~
Things went back to normal at the SGC for the next couple of weeks. The coverage of Immortals was still a leading story on the nightly news. However, the number of minutes devoted to Immortals was growing less and less with each passing day.
Daniel had managed to convince the others that he didn't need their round the clock presence to protect him any longer. The members of SG-1 had picked him up from home and had taken him back for the past several weeks. They had also taken shifts, spending the night with him, watching his back. He appreciated their concern, but he liked his space, his privacy.
Daniel arrived home with dinner from a Thai place that had opened up just last week, unlocked the door and tossed his mail and house keys onto a nearby hall table. He was hungry and mentally exhausted from a long day at work; the mail could wait.
He dropped his food onto the small island in the kitchen and started rummaging around in the drawers for a fork. It was sad, he noted, that he so rarely ate at home he kind of forgot which drawer held his silverware.
"I need to spend more time at home," Daniel said tiredly, after finally opening the correct drawer and pulled out a fork. He crammed a few bites of Phad Gaprow into his mouth as he walked from the kitchen into the adjoining living room. He was planning on having a relaxing night, watching something mind-numbing. Star Trek IV, the one with the whales, was on. He always liked that one.
"You spending time by yourself isn't something that is going to happen for a long time," another voice from near-by piped up.
"What?" Daniel exclaimed, his head whipping around to see who was in his home.
Several men, or women, dressed all in black, complete with kevlar vests and helmets, all carrying what looked to be M4s and SIG Sauer P226s and pointed directly at him.
Acting on instinct, Daniel threw his food at the closest people and pulled out the knife he kept at the small of his back and threw that at another that was blocking his path between the living room and the front door. He didn't expect it to do much but it would provide a distraction that would allow him a chance of escape. Next, he rushed the others between him and the door, shoving them out of the way like a good linebacker would, clearing a path for the running back.
Daniel made it through two of the masked commandos, but a third managed to grab him by his shirt, lifting him up and slamming him into a wall before slamming him down onto the hardwood floor. He hit the ground so hard, the windows rattled.
The wind was knocked out of him, leaving him unable to take a deep breath. However, that didn't stop Daniel from fighting back. He kicked several knees in, from the prone position he found himself in. Daniel grabbed another leg and yanked, dragging them down onto the floor. They grappled on the floor, slapping at each other, banging into furniture, overturning the hall table that he had thrown his mail on earlier. Daniel was desperate to escape by any means. He wanted the man's gun, and was willing to do whatever it took to secure his freedom.
The mortal took several blows from Daniel, to his face and torso, while taking several blows himself from multiple attackers. Daniel was finally able to land a punch to his throat, causing the man to gag and grasp at his throat, leaving his weapon unguarded. He pulled the weapon clear from the holster and fired several rounds at the man on top of him and at the others that were attacking him.
He was Daniel Jackson, also known as Danil, also known as Hades, friend of the Horsemen, a founding member of SG1, and he'd be damned if he was going to make it easy for someone to take him.
The men reared back, leaving Daniel free to scramble to his feet and rush out the door, ignoring the yells and screams behind him. He made it onto the front porch before he was stopped by a hail of gunfire slamming into his back. Daniel spit up blood, feeling his life slipping away quickly, unable to escape, unable to save himself. He hit the ground with his knees before toppling over face down on the smooth cement. A pool of blood formed underneath his body. As he laid there, covered in his own blood, his glasses knocked askew, he heard his neighbors screaming at the sight of him and the men pouring out of the house.
The last thing he heard before his body gave up the fight and he died, was someone saying that they hoped he really was one of those fucking Immortals and they didn't kill someone with epically bad luck.
A/N: Well, what do you think? Hit the shiny review button and let me know. I always appreciate constructive criticism. It helps me improve my writing and storytelling.