The music pounded in the background as he continued his work out. The lights above him would hit the blade of his sword in such a way it looked like it was pulsating red every so often. Michel was totally lost in the exercise, on the verge of letting his rage take control. But he kept that in check unless he was in battle. Both his old troop leader and Kronos said that was his biggest strength, knowing when to release it. Getting more intense as he fought his imaginary opponents he eventually slowed his movements. At the end of the exercise he held the sword loosely in his hand as he took in and let out a deep, controlled breath. Finding his center he looked up at an upper window of the former warehouse. The night was still young and there were heads to take.
Cleaning up and getting dressed he put the sword in the hidden sheath in his trench coat and headed for the door. Michel paused at the door, almost a thousand years of instinct told him something was off. He wasn't sensing another Immortal but something in his gut told him somebody was there. A little more cautiously he opened the door, his right grasping the handle of his sword. He was attacked by a group of humans recently, he would be ready if they tried it again. He hid his surprise when he saw the woman on the other side, it was the woman who looked like his Bekah. Without a word from him she said, "I can give you Malcolm McAllister."
Keeping his guard up he asked, "How do you know about McAllister?" His eyes glanced around for any strange shadows that shouldn't have been there while he waited for the answer.
"The man who lead the group that attacked you, the one whose head you took. He was McAllister's Watcher," she said.
"How do you know about that?", he asked warily. She held up her right arm and pulled back the sleeve of her jacket, a tattoo of a circle and something that looked like a W adorned her wrist.
"Because I'm one too," she said. "I'm assigned to watch you." His first instinct was to pull his sword and make her tell him everything, but his hand wasn't moving. "We're only supposed to record and not interfere. You want more proof, the other Watchers know some of us are missing, they just don't know why. If they found out an Immortal did it they would be on him in an instant. I never told them what happened so you're safe for now."
Stepping in closer he towered over her, "Are you threatening me?"
"No," she said while backing off. "I wanted you to give you a chance to get back at the one who sent them after you."
"Why do you want to help me?"
Michel had to give her credit for one thing, she didn't look like she was afraid of him. On the battlefield he could smell the fear coming off of those he fought. Usually the moment they saw him. This one she was cautious but not afraid. In a way she almost reminded him of… "Rules were broken when they helped McAllister. I want to make sure he doesn't get another chance at corrupting others into doing his dirty work."
"So you're breaking those same rules I'd imagine by telling me this," oh this was amusing.
"A necessary evil," she said. "I'm very familiar with your file. I know you wanted McAllister's head for a while now. I'm giving you a free shot at him." Done listening to this crazy woman he pushed his way past her. She followed saying, "How long will it take you to find him on your own? I've been watching you, I know you been trying. But he's always around another Immortal or on holy ground. How long before you catch him off of holy ground and alone? How long before he decides to skip town?"
Stopping but not turning around he considered what she said. She did have a point, McAllister could be readying to leave now for all he knew. Still not turning around Michel asked, "What do you get out of this? I've been around too long to know you don't offer anything like that and not want something in return."
"I just want to know why you saved me," she answered. "And how in the hell did you know my name?"
Finally turning around Michel arched an eyebrow as he studied her. This woman's name was actually Bekah? If he still believed in them he would have said the Gods were having a field day playing with him. But there was a reason why he was still standing there listening to her. "Do you have this information with you?"
Reaching into her coat she pulled out a thick envelope and handed it to him. "This shows where he spends most of his time. As you can imagine most of his regular haunts are close to holy ground. But you can catch him in a couple of spot where he'd be fair game." Reading the information inside Michel started to grin slightly. Now he finally had McAllister. "Well, we had a deal. Know how the fuck did you know my name?"
Turning away he started walking. But for some reason he told her, "Because you reminded me of her."
"Her?", she asked as she started to follow. "Her who?"
"My Bekah," he said softly. She stopped in her tracks when she heard that.
Ever since the encounter with his half Irish nephew things haven't been going like he wanted it to. Harris has been confrontational ever since he decided to use that wench as bait for his nephew. Michel has been strangely absent. Even his stalker disappeared recently, and he could usually find that human when he needed him. And to top it off he had this strangest feeling he was being followed the past couple of days. No things felt like they were turning against him. Malcolm hasn't felt like this since he ran his own brother out of his village. Too bad there was nobody around in this day and age that he could do the same to.
Malcolm paused slightly as he sensed another Immortal. A chill went down his spin as he heard the sound of metal scrapping against asphalt. Trying to contain his fear he slowly turned around to see Michel coming at him, a sick grin on his face. "There's nowhere for you to hide now McAllister."
"Michel," he said trying to remain calm. "What a pleasant surprise. I was just thinking about you."
"I bet you were." He rushed him trying to slam his sword on top of his head. Malcolm dove out of the way. Hastily drawing his claymore he blocked the next strike at his head and kicked him away. This was bad, this was very bad. He wasn't any where near any holy ground and Michel caught him off guard. Even when he knew he was around it generally wasn't a good thing. "I've been waiting for this for decades!" Michel said as he didn't let up on his attack. "Ever since our first meeting in Prague. You thought you were so clever mocking me from holy ground, trying to get me to attack that bitch you had a problem with. I told you as soon as I was done with her I was coming after you!"
"Yes you did," Malcolm grunted as he kicked him away to make some space. Malcolm's mind raced as he tried to remember where the nearest holy ground was. A church, a cemetery, a Mosque, an Indian burial ground anything. He was drawing a complete blank as Michel kept coming at him. As it was he was barely keeping his sword up from Michel's barrage. "Is this how you want to do it Michel?", he asked as he quickly backed up to get a breather. "Catching me off guard and by surprise?" Michel paused a bit, maybe he was getting through. "You've been after my head for a long time, do you really want to sully the moment like this?"
Looking like he was thinking it over Malcolm began to sweat as he started grinning again, "I don't really care." Yelling like a wild beast he came at him again. No, this was not how it was suppose to play out. He wanted Michel weakened, frustrated, preoccupied. Hell he would have been satisfied with somebody else finally beating Michel. But not full bore like this. His only chance was to go on the attack himself and try to catch him off guard. Michel's smile seemed to grow bigger when he did. Sparks started to fly off their blades as they clashed for all their worth. Malcolm couldn't help but think that all of those baby Quickenings helped make him stronger than he thought he be. Michel didn't even look like he was trying that hard.
Finally getting through his defenses Malcolm cut a huge slash across his chest. He didn't get a chance to feel any sort of victory as Michel swung his sword wildly as he tried not to go down. Trying to turn to avoid it Malcolm didn't even feel it when it happened. The first indication he had something was wrong was when he thought he heard something plop on the ground. Then he felt something wet growing on his left side as Michel started laughing. Then he felt the pain as he looked down and saw his arm was missing just above the elbow. Going down to a knee Malcolm watched Michel hover over him. In an act of desperation Malcolm plunged his Claymore into Michel's gut. He stood there looking down at Malcolm, he knew it was over if a miracle didn't happen.
"What the fuck is going on?", a police officer came running at them. Michel looked annoyed at the intrusion. Malcolm saw that miracle he was praying for. Taking the momentary distraction he had he grabbed Michel by the shirt and threw him toward the policeman, his claymore ripping into him even more. "What the fuck?", he exclaimed as he tried not to fall from the added weight. Then he noticed the blood coming from his wound. "Holy shit! Hang on buddy I'll get you an ambulance." His hand went as far as the microphone on his chest before Michel grabbed him by the throat.
"You're not going to need it," Michel told him as he rammed his sword through him. Letting the officer drop he turned his attention back toward Malcolm. He was gone. "No," he snarled. The only thing left was his severed arm. Picking that up Michel hurled it against a wall in frustration, "Fuck it no!" He followed the trailed of blood but it was quickly trickling down to nothing. Either McAllister was got smart and was holding the arm up or his Immortal abilities kicked in and were sealing the wound. Arriving at an intersection he saw nobody, he didn't even sense another Immortal. "MCALLISTER!!!", he roared at the heavens. He was not going to be denied this.
Malcolm stumbled through the streets, pushing down anybody in his way, ignoring those who wanted to help him. He took the long way around to his apartment building just to throw Michel off his trail, even if it was momentarily. "Damn it, damn it, damn it," he muttered over and over. This was not how it was supposed to happen. Michel was supposed to take out his bastard nephew and that's it. He was supposed to be out of here by now, far away from Michel. But Harris had to play his games and change his plans. He expected it and thought he would be able to contain his meddling. But no Harris still wouldn't do what he wanted him to. Going behind his back and warning that bastard what was coming, preparing him, making him change his plan even more. Disrespectful little prick.
His building was in sight but he wasn't going there, no he'd be trapped there if Michel caught up with him. His destination was the parking garage a block away from his building. His car and a small duffel bag of clothes in the trunk, everything he needed to make a fast get away. Fate seemed to be with him as he ran past the empty security station and hit the stairs. He tried to prioritize what he had to do once he left to keep himself calm. First order of business was to get as far away from here as possible. Second find some sort of prosthetic for his now useless arm. It pretty much signaled to any Immortal that he was an easy target. His train of thought was broken when he reached the level his car was one and felt another Immortal close by. No it couldn't be Michel, not now.
He looked around until he started hear footsteps. A lone figure was coming toward him. And it was almost as bad as if it was Michel. His bastard nephew continued walking until they were a few feet apart before stopping. That half Irish bastard was blocking his path to his car. Malcolm tried to go around him but he kept getting in his way. "Just like your father," Malcolm spat.
"I'll take that as a compliment," Owen told him. Without a word Owen drew his Long Sword. Knowing he couldn't talk his way out of this Malcolm retrieved his Claymore with his good arm.
"Just like your Father," Malcolm told him. "Thinking you're better than those older than you." Not waiting for his nephew Malcolm went after him. Owen blocked each strike as he backed up. Malcolm looked for any sign of contempt in the younger Immortal's eyes. He saw nothing but determination. "That was William in a nutshell, always questioning my decisions even when we were boys. He always thought he was better than me."
"He wanted you to be better," Owen shot back going on the offensive. Malcolm tried hard to fall backwards. "He told me how you ran your village, how you used fear and superstition to keep them under your control. He questioned you because he thought you could lead them without that."
"You weren't there!" Malcolm exploded. He took a homerun swing at his head that Owen ducked. Before he came up Malcolm kicked the point of his shoe into his gut. Owen doubled over and tried to get some of the breath back in his body. "You have no idea what it was like!" Malcolm tried to take his head but Owen was able to get his sword up. "William had no idea of the weight on my shoulders. Who was he to question what I did."
"He was somebody who looked up to you," Owen grunted knocking him back.
Michel stormed down the street. It took him a while to calm down after McAllister's disappearing act but when he did he remember he still had that envelope that woman gave him. In it was McAllister's current address. He was on his way there when he noticed Harris hanging around an old church. He looked over and waved before returning his attention back toward a multi level parking garage. "Out of my way," Michel snarled, the sooner he got his hands on McAllister the better.
"He's not home if that's where you're going," Harris said nonchalantly. "He's a tad busy at the moment." Michel started to demand to know what he was rambling about then he heard it. The clashing of swords. He looked up at the garage and started to head for it. "There a challenge going on. The true game is finally afoot as they say. It's a strange saying though 'afoot' wouldn't you agree?", he said examining his own foot. Michel tuned him out as he stood there listening to the sounds of battle, what should have been his battle
Despite his new handicap Malcolm was able to keep up with Owen but just barely. He was able to change his usual fighting strategy just enough so he could use the claymore with just the one hand. For some reason he was comparing the styles of Michel and this half Irish bastard in his head. His nephew was seemingly in more control, more precise in his attack. He could usually beat precise, he just had to unnerve them in some way. It's why he started to talk about William, just in the hopes it would cause his son to misstep, zag where he wanted to zig. It should have worked but his focus was to strong, even as he argued back about his Father. Dear God he was so much like William it was disgusting. "You probably dreamed about a moment like this," Malcolm said
"I never knew you were still around until recently," Owen said blocking another swing at his neck. Maybe if he kept him defending his head he'd leave himself open for a strike elsewhere.
"But you had to do dream about getting revenge for you Father while you were growing up." Malcolm upped his attack , getting him to back up again. "When he told you how I ran him out of town. Told you stories about how the village turned against him." His tactic worked and he scored with a slash to his thigh. Seeing an opening he tried to damage him even more for the killing strike. "How he told you how much he hated me."
There was something in Owen eyes in that instant that gave him pause. The next moment Owen came at him swinging, his leg still bleeding. Malcolm backed up until he hit a pillar and couldn't go any further. In the next instant the claymore went flying out of his hand and Owen's blade was at his neck. Gasping at the sensation of the blade against his neck he looked at the young man's eyes. He was surprised to see he was tearing up. "He forgave you!", he exploded. Malcolm was at a loss for words. "That was who he was, that was what he did. No matter what you did to him no matter how bad you hurt him he'd find a way to forgive you. I sat there and listened to him speak of his village and of you and I saw nothing but love in his eyes. If your head wasn't stuck up your ass maybe you would have realized that."
"So… nephew." Malcolm said standing very still. "What are you going to do now? You have me at your mercy, but would your Father want you to take revenge?"
He was quiet for several moments before looking away and saying, "No." He looked disgusted with himself for speaking it out loud. "He wouldn't want me to do it. I've tried to be like him as much as possible." Malcolm wanted to relax but was very aware that the long sword was still at his neck. "But there's just one little thing."
"And what… and what might that be?", Malcolm gulped.
"There can be only one," he said coldly. Malcolm eyes went wide as he drew the sword back and swung. It sliced cleanly through his neck and he was no more as his head and body fell to the ground. Owen stepped back a bit and slowly raised his arms and braced himself as the Quickening came to him.
"No," Michel said. Both he and Harris felt the Quickening happen before it got violent and heard the screaming. "McAllister was mine!" He ran into the parking garage looking for blood. Harris stood there for a moment before lowering his head. That was his mentor after all.
Engines came on and headlight and the lights above him started flashing and exploding as Owen stood there absorbing the Quickening. The pain was unimaginable but as always he endured. The energy seemed to be endless as it poured out of the headless body. His throat felt raw and his voice was horse as he dropped to his knees after it was over. Regaining his senses he felt the buzz and froze. He looked up to see Dijkhuizen run at him. Knowing he was in no shape to take him on now he forced his body to get up and run. Owen heard him get closer as he made his way to the railing leading outside. Getting close he jumped on top of the barricade and launched himself off as Dijkhuizen swung at him. The red sword hit nothing but concrete as he dropped toward the street. Owen landed on top of a passing truck with a thud. He started to slide off so he plunged his sword into the top of the trailer and held on for dear life.
Freeing his sword Michel watched him escape on top of the truck seething with fury. He followed it for a couple of blocks before seeing the younger McAllister, the only McAllister now finally jump off of it. There was no way he could catch up with him now. "Ragh!", he took his fury out on the hood of a nearby car, slamming his sword into it again and again. By the time he was done the hood looked like a pile of steel ribbons. Putting the sword back in it's sheath he walked over to what was left of Malcolm McAllister and picked up his head by the hair. Looking into McAllister's dead eyes he started to grin, "It looks like I finally have a reason to hunt down your Nephew." Dropping the head he headed for the nearest staircase
Back down on the street Harris put his hands behind his head and started walking off. "This game is over and a new one is about to begin," he said to himself. "Big Evil has taken something from the young one and the young one has taken something from Big Evil. It's not one of mine so I don't really care one way or another. But that doesn't mean I can't lend a hand. Who knows maybe I can make a particular little bird happy again, or maybe not. Who can say really?"