He felt the wind whip by him as he stood in the opening of the airplane. Looking down at the Earth below it was almost too hard to imagine that it was the same ground he had been walking on earlier. Taking a deep breath he jumped out and for a brief moment felt like he was flying. Spreading out like he was instructed he felt the air surround him as he dropped to the ground. He looked around taking in the beauty of the environment. It was time like these he was actually happy to be alive. But then again what's the point in living if you couldn't enjoy things like this every so often. Then like always the boredom set in. He had done this countless times before over the decades. While it was beautiful at first, he had seen and done it many times before. Then the ideas starting flowing in his head. He surprised himself a little as a new one popped in his head.

Folding his arms to his body he aimed his head at the ground and began falling faster. He started passing those who jumped in front of him. He could only imagine what they were thinking as they saw him. The ground came at him faster and faster. Bringing his arm up he saw he was close to exiting the safe zone, but he waited. Several minutes went by and he still hadn't pulled his cord yet. Checking his altimeter one more time he saw he was well out of the safe zone, then he pulled his cord. The parachute open and he felt his body whip fast from the sudden deceleration and liked he hoped, felt his neck snap.

Breathing in hard as regained conscious he found his body in a heap on the ground. With some pain and effort he forced and snapped his broken limbs back into place. Well that was interesting for a couple of moments at least. Feeling the buzz he looked around and saw the immortal he sense pretty fast. "Hello Owen," he greeted him pleasantly.

"Are you out of your mind?!", the older Immortal snapped. "Jackson I swear to God sometimes I think you're trying to get us discovered."

"Just trying to spice up the ol' life a little," he explained. His right arm was still hanging a bit, "Ah do you mind…?" Looking annoyed Owen took the arm and pushed it back into place, a little harder than necessary. "Hey, just because you like to live a boring life don't take it out on me."

"What if a mortal discovered you just now?"

"Then I'd be going it's a miracle."

"This isn't funny Jackson. That was a hell of a chance you took."

"That's why I invited you along to watch," he explained. "I knew you'd find me before they would. You're one of the best trackers I know. Granted I've seen better but you're still pretty good."

"What is with you lately? You've been taking more and more risks, and getting us closer to being discovered each time."

"You worry too much Owen," he waved his concern off. "Like I said, I'm just trying to spice things up a little."

Owen stood there shaking his head sadly, "What's next, bungee jumping without the bungee?"

"I've tried that," Jackson said. "It's not as fun as it sounds."

"It's official you're out of your mind."

"Relax Owen, no harm no foul." He looked around the area as he took off the parachute. He saw a ravine with a fast flowing river. Damn it how did he miss that, he was only a few feet from smashing into the side. Jackson wondered if he would have made a splat sound if he hit. "Better than nothing," he muttered to himself. Balling up the chute and pack he tossed it into the ravine and watched it hit the water. "There that should answer any question to what happen to me. Want to do lunch?"

Owen just stared at him in disbelief, "How can you be so nonchalant about this? Those on the plane with you are probably going out of their mind wondering about what happened."

"They're probably more worried about getting sued by any of my family members, wouldn't they be surprised to find out I saw my last family member a hundred years ago."

"What is wrong with you?!", he asked again showing a little anger. "Those mortals jumping with didn't take that stupid a risk."

"And those mortals know they could die if something goes wrong," he said feeling annoyed and tired about the apparent lecture Owen was trying to give him. "Some of us don't have to worry about that now do we?" Taking off his helmet he saw it was cracked from the impact and tossed it into the ravine too for good measure.

"You have to stop before you get us outed," Owen warned him.

"And what if I don't?", he challenged. "Are you going to do something about it?" He watched Owen start to reach inside his jacket and for a brief moment Jackson thought he was going to do it. Then he pulled his hand away. Jackson let the disappointment show. "So I'm guessing that's a no to lunch?"

"Seriously, stop this. I know you don't want us to become a lab experiment."

"Stop being such a worry wart," Jackson chided him. "I know what I'm doing. Now if you don't want to have lunch I'll see you around." Jackson waited a moment for him to say good bye but when it didn't come he started off in a direction, briefly wondering if he'd run across any poisonous animals.

After a few moments he heard Owen say, "Watch your back boyo."

"Always," he offered a wave.

A couple of days later he was home after his "day" job. Why he fell into the trap, especially after his first teacher set him up with a tidy little sum, was beyond him. Not that he was the only immortal with a regular job, perhaps some of his compatriots wanted to feel "normal" for a bit. Of course the big headline still was the "disappearance" of the skydivers' body. He imagined Owens' outrage if he used his current name instead of the other one he used. One of the latest rumors he heard was that a cult had found him. It was amusing at times to hear the conspiracies the mortals could come up with. It made things bearable at least a few moments.

Jackson fixed his usual vodka and cyanide cocktail. Drank it in one gulp and sat down waiting for it to kick in. Before he lost consciousness he realized he forgot to lock the door. That would be embarrassing if another immortal walked in before he woke up. When he came back he saw nothing was touched, damn his luck. He thought about drinking another one, maybe up the cyanide content, but what was the use. He'd just come back alive again. Maybe he should start looking for something with a little more taste to it, so he could see it coming. But he knew it was coming any way so what was the point? He looked at the rope and thought about hanging himself again. He hadn't done that yet. But he heard stories of peoples head being ripped off in the act and he didn't want that happening. He had a loaded gun in the closest, but that was too noisy. How was he going to finish off the night?

Grabbing his car keys off the table he took a drive. Jackson didn't have a destination in mind he just wanted to get out of town. After a few hours and a couple of cities later he found himself getting really bored. Driving around for a bit Jackson found a relatively deserted straight street. Even better it was more or less a dead end. Gunning the accelerator he raced toward the wall, good thing he never wore a seatbelt and disabled the airbag. The cars' front end was destroyed as it hit the wall and he went through the windshield. He stayed there a right proper mess as death teased him one more time.

When he awoke he was on the ground, in pain and panic at bit as he felt the buzz one more time. Looking around he saw a man with hair down to his shoulder and wearing nothing but black lean against a wall watching him. Trying to raise up he felt something cold and metal by his hand, he found his sword, a two handed long sword, next to him. "Who the hell are you?"

"My name is Michel," he answered without moving off the wall. "I've been waiting for you to finally wake the fuck up. We are going to fight."

"If you're that desperate for a head why didn't you take mine while I was out?"

"I've done it before, so it's not like it's above me," he said as he finally got off the wall and started walking round him. "But every so often I feel like a challenge. And I found there is no bigger challenge than a person who feels like his back is to the wall. So when you feel up to it, please pick up the sword."

Jackson looked around and realized he had no idea where he was. He didn't even see his car, nor could her hear any siren or smell any smoke. This freak pulled him out of the wreckage and took him God only knew where. "I'm in no condition for a fight," he said quickly. "Maybe we could reschedule…?"

"Fights are only one on one," Michel said to himself as he continued to circle him, "no fighting on holy ground. I don't recall the option on refusing a challenge ever being brought up."

"I guess it depends on your teacher…", he attempted to joke.

"You know I'm not a really patient person by nature," Michel cut him off sharply. "In fact it was more or less taught to me, or forced on me. But what little I have was beginning to run out waiting for you." Reaching into his trench coat he pulled out a red blade sword, "So either pick that sword up or I'll take your head right now."

Jackson tried to catch him off guard by grabbing his sword and trying to plunge it into his leg. Michel parried the strike easily and looked amused for a moment. Then he dropped the amused look and brought his sword over his and swung it down at him. Jackson rolled out of the way and hobbled to his feet trying to find a position where he would be at that much disadvantage. He wasn't finding it fast enough as Michel ran at him and swung widely. Jackson was able to get his sword up in time, but with his injuries the blow nearly knocked him down. He tried fighting back, looking for an opening in his defenses. For somebody who fought this widely he didn't look out of control as he fought. This was bad.

Jackson bought as much time as he could as he backed up and his injuries healed. When he felt more or less at a hundred percent he started upping his attacks and held him at a stand still. The clanging of steel echoed in the alley as he held his ground. Jackson thought he saw an opening and took a slash at his side. He got mostly coat as his opponent tried to get out of the way, but he saw Michel grit his teeth as he felt the blade come into contact with flesh. He upped his attack trying to keep Michel moving. If he was moving that cut would keep reopening before it was fully healed. Then Jackson head snapped back as Michel forced his fist into face, "Ugh," and he almost fell down.

"I've been alive for a thousand years," Michel boasted, "and I've been in thousands of battles. I always fought hurt. Did you really think this little scratch was going to affect me?" Michel came at him again, banging his red sword against his. At one point he tried to knock his sword out of his hands. It almost left him but Jackson kept his grip on it, but he left himself wide open. And Michel took it, but not his head. He felt the red blade go through his sword arm. It fell to the ground and he stared at the blood pouring out of his right shoulder. He could swear he could still feel it there instead of the ground. He was so horrified at what happened he couldn't scream in pain or horror.

Michel got this sick maniacal grin on his face. In desperation Jackson kicked him in the balls and started running away. He prayed that there would be some sort of holy ground nearby. Then he heard it, the tip of the sword scrapping the ground. He risked a look back and saw sparks fly right before Michel brought it up and ran after him. He ran faster but he could hear the other immortal catch up. Then he felt the steel of the sword again, this time at the knee. He fell to the ground as his left foot stayed where it was. He got to a knee still too terrified to scream. Michel stood before him with that damnable grin getting bigger. He raised his sword and brought it down. As he felt it bite into his neck Jackson last thought was 'I don't want to di….*