Disclaimer: Highlander belongs to Davis/Panzer Productions, I don't own anything, just my original characters. I am making the credits in a similar way to the original show as a way of showing my love for it. Plus, the person narrating the opening crawl of the season will also be doing the recaps. Recaps start with "Previously on Highlander: The Avenger."

I was born before 1600 in the Highlands of Scotland, and I am still alive. I am Immortal and I am not alone. For four hundred years, I have fought, loved, wondered, explored and avenged. Now, I have found the woman of my dreams, but we are always in danger. For centuries, I have battled the Dark Immortals, with Holy Ground my only refuge. Soon will be the time of the Gathering, when the stroke of a sword and the fall of a head, will release the power of the Quickening. I am Owen MacLeod, the Highlander. In the end, there can be only one.

(Cue Princes of the Universe)

Starring

Jack Turpin

Kehli O'Byrne

Adrian Paul

Alexandra Vandernoot

Stan Kirsch

(Princesof the Universe ends)

The Gathering

Special Guest Star

Christopher Lambert as Connor MacLeod

and

Richard Moll as Slan Quince

It was a moonlit night. A young boy walked carefully through the quiet streets of Seacouver, Washington. He looked around and started walking toward a closed store. He crossed the alleyway, then headed around the side of the building. He snuck down the side of the alley and past a parked T-Bird. He looked through the window with a penlight, looking upon the antiques inside the shop. Using a device, he cut a hole in the glass and disabled the alarm connected to the window. Lifting up the window with a piece of wood, he climbed inside.

"Check it out," he said to himself. "One night only, everything must go."

Upstairs, a young couple was having fun together, oblivious to what was going on. Or were they? Suddenly, the man sat up, looking panicked.

"I feel something," said Duncan MacLeod.

"I hope so," replied the girl and attempted to continue, but he stopped her.

"No. Someone's here."

"I didn't hear anything."

Duncan pulled a dragonhead katana sword from under the coffee table.

"Neither did I," he said, holding the blade close.

"Mac," said the girl.

He got up, slowly made his way out of the living room and down the loft.

"Duncan, be careful," begged the girl.

As for the boy, he had filled his bag with several items, before he noticed a rapier sword in a display case. With a sense of childish imagination, he unlocked the case and took out the sword.

"En garde, you fool! Wssst," he said, making swishy noises for the effects.

He swung the sword from left to right and felt a loud clash as it hit what sounded like steel. He turned his head and saw Owen MacLeod, holding his own dragonhead katana sword.

"I am Owen MacLeod... of the Clan MacLeod... and there can be only one," Owen said, darkly.

"Uh... only one?" asked the boy, slowly backing away from him and lowering the sword. "Whoa, heheh. Geez, I ripped off a couple of cups and a bowl; I'm sorry, all right? Here - take 'em. They're all in the bag. I'll pay for the window."

"This is my dad's place," Owen replied.

"So? It's over. Okay?"

"It's over when one of us takes the head, now pick it up!" demanded Owen, gesturing to the rapier.

"Take the head?! You don't think that's a little extreme for petty theft? Hey dude, chill. Your dad's insurance will cover it."

"Owen, what're you doing here?" came a voice.

The boys turned and saw Duncan standing across from them, with the girl behind him.

"Headhunting," answered Owen. "I found him in here."

"But he's just a boy," objected the girl.

"You know what? You should call the police," the boy relented. "In fact, I tell you what, I'll call them myself. Got a phone?"

"You're not the headhunter, are you?" asked Owen, lowering his sword.

"There's someone…" Duncan trailed off.

Suddenly, a large man crashed through skylight above, yelling out. He landed inside the shop, a large mask covering his face.

"Whoa!" cried the boy. "I'm on like 'America's Funniest Home Videos', right?"

They ignored him as the intruder pulled a large broadsword from his long coat.

"MacLeod!" shouted the intruder, "I'm Slan Quince and I've come for your head."

He swung and struck an item in the shop with his blade.

"This is very uncool, guys," said the boy.

"Shut the fuck up, dude," snapped Owen, who stood in defense.

Quince stepped forward and turned his attention to the girl. Something was in his eyes as he addressed her.

"We haven't been properly introduced, but you'll get to know me, my dear."

"Mac!" the girl called to Duncan, who raised his blade in defense.

"I've been looking for you myself," said Owen, pointing his sword at Quince. "Now, did you come to fight or talk?"

"He's not gonna fight you, Nephew," said a voice.

Everyone turned and saw Connor MacLeod standing at the window, wearing a beige trench coat and wielding a white braid katana of his own. His brown hair had been cut short with a tiny beard. He stepped forward as he circled Quince.

"Not until he's made you suffer..." he continued. "Until he's destroyed everything you love in this world... until you don't know whether you want to live or die. That's your way, right, Slan?"

"Connor are you headhunting too?" asked Owen.

"Yes. Sorry, Owen, but this one is mine."

"Man, these guys are out there," said the boy, retreating to the open window.

"Let the boy go," Connor told Duncan and Owen.

"My challenge was to Duncan MacLeod, not you, whoever you are," spoke Quince.

"I'm Connor MacLeod - same clan, different vintage."

"Ah, yes. You!" spoke the headhunter as all MacLeods raised their swords. "Ha! Not three against one. Tsk tsk tsk tsk."

"Thanks, Slan," teased Connor. "I know the rules. You and me. Now."

Connor attacked Quince and they started to fight, but just as Quince cleared space with a nearby object, they heard police sirens.

"It sounds to me like we're about to have company, gentlemen," Quince said as the sirens got louder. "I just wanted to meet the charming lady of the house."

He ran over to the front store window before turning back to the MacLeods.

"Ha-ha. Until we meet again!" he laughed, as he broke the front store window with the butt of his sword and jumped through.

Connor stepped forward, only for Duncan to block his way with his blade. Connor looked at Duncan, who smirked and moved the blade away. Connor smirked and walked to the window.

"Heh-heh-heh. You look good," he teased Duncan and exited through the window.

"I'll be off now," Owen said. "See you at the station tomorrow."

Owen exited through the window and out into the dark night.

The next day, Owen went to the police station where he met Duncan. They entered and found Police Detective Sergeant Thomas Powell, having identified the boy.

"I was asked to come in and identify a boy who broke into my store last night," Duncan told the detective.

"Richie Ryan?" asked Powell.

"If that's his name, then yes," answered Owen.

"Look, I don't understand," said Powell. "We caught this kid. We can make a good case against him, but not if you don't press charges."

"Sorry. No charges," replied Duncan.

"Look, let me tell you two something. This punk is trying to get off the hook by saying he DIDN'T break in. That he heard a disturbance, looked inside. He saw three men with drawn swords having it out."

Duncan and Owen laughed together, much to the sergeant's confusion.

"Did he also see a guy in a bat costume and a long cape?" joked Owen. "And a short kid dressed in red and green tights?"

"Okay," laughed Powell sarcastically, "Anyway. Now he had jewelry from your shop in his pocket when we nabbed him running from the scene. We've got him dead-to-rights."

"Sorry," Duncan said. "Can I talk to him before you let him go?"

"You're sort of a 'Father Flannagan, there's no such thing as a bad boy,' kinda guy, aren't you? Look, let me set you straight on something. You talk, he walks. He hasn't learned a thing. This boy needs to do a little time in juvie to straighten him out. Next month, he turns eighteen. His next visit here? Oh, he gets processed through as an adult. He gets sent to the big house where the cons will pass him around for dessert."

"Don't worry," replied Owen. "After we talk to him, he'll think twice before doing anything like that again."

"Think about it. Come on."

Powell led Duncan and Owen down the hall to the interrogation room. He opened the door, revealing Richie Ryan.

"These gentlemen would like to talk to you. Now you give me one excuse to bust your butt while you're still here and you'll do ten on the taxpayers' money, punk," warned Powell. "Got it?"

"Oh, yes sir, Sergeant Powell, I certainly do, sir," said Richie, sarcastically.

"He's all yours," Powell told the MacLeods, before leaving.

"Honestly, guys," Richie said, "I really do appreciate this second chance you're going to give me to become a useful member of society."

"If I let you out of here, I do not want anyone coming around asking about your little fantasies," warned Duncan. "That is the deal."

"Fantasies? Oh, you mean like the one where you and the Knights of the Round Table were, uh, wheee tseee tseeee tseee tseee, right?" asked Richie, imitating the swordfight. "Never saw a thing. Just, uh, made it all up. Hmpf. I know, I'm fast. All my teachers said so. Fast, but lazy. My lips are sealed. Word of honor. Besides, who'd I tell, ya know?"

Owen grabbed his shirt and looked him right in the eyes.

"Swear you won't say anything, and promise to live more honestly from now on," he said in a low, gruff voice.

"I- I swear," said Richie, timidly.

"Good," answered Owen, and he exited the room.

Owen left the station and strolled back to the antique shop.

When Owen finally arrived at the shop and walked past Duncan's T-Bird, he spotted another car in front of the shop. Then, he felt a buzz as the driver turned around, revealing Slan Quince. The big Immortal started his car.

"Ciao, baby!" Quince taunted as he drove away laughing, almost running down some people with his car.

Owen walked to the shop and saw Connor, when both of them felt another buzz.

"Shh," whispered Owen, as he creeped to the back door.

He heard the door unlock, then saw Duncan pear into view. Relief appeared on the middle MacLeod's face as he opened the door, allowing Owen and Connor inside.

"Hi," greeted Connor.

"We're back," Owen greeted next.

"Tessa, you've already met Connor MacLeod and Owen MacLeod," Duncan spoke to Tessa.

"I'm, uh, a friend of Duncan's from the old neighborhood," Connor explained.

"And as you know, I'm Duncan's kid from the woods," said Owen cheerfully.

Minutes later, Owen and Connor were beginning to help make some sandwiches.

"You're sure you wouldn't rather use a sword, Connor?" teased Tessa.

"I take it that, uh, what you saw last night was... new?" Connor asked while glancing at Duncan. "New."

"Yes," answered Duncan, "As a matter of fact, it is quite new for Tessa."

"I can see that," deadpanned Owen.

"How long have you three known each other?" asked Tessa. "Are you related?"

"We're clansmen," Duncan explained. "When I was growing up, there was a legend in my clan about a strange man in my grandfather's time who was killed in battle and then miraculously revived."

"Everyone thought it was witchcraft," added Connor.

"Bunch of Holy rollers with no lives," cursed Owen.

"I thought it was an old wives' tale," Duncan continued. "Until one day..."

"I know," said Tessa. "Someone killed you, but you didn't die."

"I lived the majority of my life as a hermit in the wilderness, not knowing my parents," Owen spoke next. "Duncan found me and showed me how to be a man. What else should I call him, but Father?"

Tessa could not argue with that.

"And then I found them both, well, you know, the way someone found me," finished Connor.

"Connor taught us both everything we needed to know to survive as Immortals. The Rules. The tactics needed to win," added Duncan.

"As once someone taught me."

"Win what?!" insisted Tessa. "Why does this Slan person want Duncan? Please, don't say anything in front of the lady! Let me just go in the next room and crochet while you have cigars and brandy and talk about beheadings!"

"You omitted important details, Dad," complained Owen.

"I told Tessa some of it," defended Duncan. "I thought I was out of it. She didn't need to know all the Rules."

"You're not out of it anymore!" shouted Connor. "'There can be only one.' Remember that rule?"

"It's not just a rule," reminded Owen. "It's a prophecy."

"One what?" Tessa asked. "One of you? Only one Immortal left in the end? Is that it? And what does the winner get?"

"The Prize."

Connor nodded. He remembered centuries ago, when his own teacher, Tak-Ne, later known as Juan Sánchez Villa-Lobos Ramírez, explained the Prize to him. It was there that Connor learned his mission.

"The last one will have the power of all the Immortals who ever lived - enough power to rule this planet forever," he explained. "If someone like Slan is that last one, mankind will suffer an eternity of darkness from which it will never recover."

"That's why it's so important that an Immortal pure of heart wins the Game," finished Owen. "Connor already did the world a big favor by killing the Kurgan seven years ago."

"And you didn't think this was important enough to mention?" Tessa asked Duncan.

"It's nothing new," justified Duncan.

"It is for me."

"You can't stay out of the Game, Duncan.," scolded Connor. "You've tried before."

"Damn it, Connor! It had nothing to do with the Game, and you know that," insisted Duncan.

"It ALL comes back to the Game, Dad!" barked Owen. "YOU know it."

The three thought back to a Dakota Territory in 1872.

Connor had come across a massacred Lakota tribe that Duncan had joined. Duncan was sobbing as he was holding the body of his love in his arms.

"She knew the names of all the grasses... the wildflowers... the songs that told where her people came from, how they lived, what they believed in!" Duncan wailed.

"I'm sorry," said Connor, hugging him. "I'm so sorry."

They set up funeral pyre and let it burn.

"Do you think we ever lived like this?" asked Connor in the present. "Like a tribe? Together with a common language, a reason and a name for each living thing? Did we once belong somewhere - a time and a place, however briefly?"

Sometime later, Duncan started building a cabin on what would be known as Shaman Island. Owen arrived and learned everything from Connor. The two went to speak to Duncan.

"Hey... I know you loved her, but you can't keep them from dying," Connor said. "They all do. Men kill men. We kill each other."

"I don't care who does the killing," replied Duncan. "I'm tired of it. I'm tired of the endless mindless fighting. I'm tired of death."

"You can't quit."

"I didn't ask you for permission, Connor."

"This is a Game that never stops," warned Owen. "It's only a matter of time before you return."

Connor glanced around at the area as Duncan drank from his flask.

"I know why you chose this place," he said. "It's Holy Ground."

"That's right," replied Duncan. "And I did ask permission of the old ones to build my cabin here."

"No Immortal can fight here... ever. You'll always be safe."

"Glad you approve. Connor, the battle between good and evil can do without me for a while."

Owen shook his head, seeing it as a waste of time.

"Maybe, but you can't stay out of it forever," said Connor.

"No, not forever," admitted Duncan. "But for a while."

"You'll have to leave at some point," Owen added. "They'll find you."

"Eventually."

To cheer Duncan up after he encountered Quince again and saved Tessa from him, Owen and Connor decided to spar with him. They went to an abandoned warehouse, where they had a wide-open space and secrecy. Unbeknown to them, Richie Ryan was spying on them. The three bounced around, deflecting and evading strikes.

"A mere pinprick," taunted Connor.

"By my count, you look more like a pincushion!" Duncan fired back.

Seeing an opening, Owen roundhouse kicked them both. The three started laughing humorously at the move before Duncan lunged again, knocking Connor onto a dirt pile.

"You know Slan is mine," he insisted, stabbing into the dirt as Connor avoided it.

"You sure you can handle him?" asked Connor, holding out his hand. "Come on."

"No problem," said Duncan as he helped Connor up, only for Connor to yank him into the dirt.

"That brute entered MY town, he's MINE!" insisted Owen, causing another round of fighting.

They continued to throw blows at each other while treating it like a game. As they prodded at each other, Owen forced them into a triple blade lock.

"Slan is MINE," Connor hissed.

"Protecting Tessa is MY job," gruffed Duncan.

The three broke out of the lock and paused briefly, before laughing again and hugging each other.

"Good to see ya," said Connor happily.

Later, the three returned to the workshop, mopping themselves with small towels.

"Told you I'm nimble," boasted Owen.

"So, how do you feel, old man?" Connor asked Duncan.

"Fifty years younger than you do," replied Duncan, who then noticed the worried look on Tessa's face. "What's wrong?"

"Slan called," she answered.

"What did he say?"

"He'll be on Soldier's Bridge tonight."

"That's not all, is it?" asked Owen.

Tessa looked at Duncan.

"When he's finished with you, he'll be back for me."

Minutes after, Owen smoked a cigarette at a window while Connor was watching Duncan sharpen his katana.

"You know, I've been thinking," Connor spoke. "Why are you smiling? 'Cause I've been thinking."

"Uh-huh."

"Heh-heh-heh. Well, anyway, as long as I can remember knowing you…"

"Oh, not again," groaned Duncan.

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me."

"Here we go again," mumbled Owen.

"You don't know what I'm going to say," Connor replied. "As long as I remember knowing you, you've had all the fun and most of the good women."

"Lately," was Duncan's response.

"Lately?"

"That's what I said."

"What are you guys talking about?" asked Owen, "I've had my own share, plus my current one is the best I've ever had."

"Well, I seem to remember that girl in London," answered Duncan. "The redhead."

Connor scoffed at the reminder.

"Healthy girl."

"Come on, that was almost a hundred and sixty years ago," complained Connor.

"That's what I said - lately."

"Bullshit," said Owen.

"It's not bullshit," Duncan cranked.

"You know what your problem is?" snapped Connor. "You live in the past."

An argument began as Tessa entered the room.

"I don't have a problem," insisted Duncan.

"Yes, you do," Connor responded.

"No, I don't."

"Yes, you do!"

"No, I don't! Stop arguing with me!"

"I'm not arguing!"

"Yes, you are!"

"No! It's conversation!

"It's conversation? Well, end of conversation!"

"Oh, taking the easy way out as always, huh?" scoffed Owen.

"Uh-huh."

"Yeah, the usual," drawled Connor. "Duncan?"

"What?" asked Duncan.

He turned around, only for Conor to sucker punch him into unconsciousness.

"End of conversation," finished Connor.

"Mac!" cried Tessa as she rushed over to tend to him.

"He was arguing. Don't worry. He's gonna be okay."

Connor grabbed his trench coat and sword before heading to the exit.

"You don't have to go either," insisted Tessa.

"We don't have a choice," replied the eldest MacLeod. "I hope to see you again."

He exited with Owen following.

"Hey, my town, my kill. Step aside," he demanded.

But Connor slugged him too, throwing him down. Connor exited the store, slipping on his riding gloves and got in his car.

"Damn. Sir Lancelot," cursed Richie as he hid in the trunk.

Owen had just exited as Connor drove away. Swearing to himself, Owen rushed to his motorcycle and chased after him, unaware that Duncan was going to follow too.

At Soldier's Bridge, Slan Quince stood waiting for Duncan MacLeod. Connor pulled up and exited, advancing toward the large Immortal. Richie quietly exited the trunk and got a good view of the confrontation. Connor, clad in his iconic beige trench coat and white sneakers, advanced toward Quince with his katana drawn. Richie slipped into the shadows to watch.

"Don't look so disappointed, Slan," Connor teased. "When was the last time you had such an enthusiastic opponent?"

"Maybe you're right. This could be fun," agreed Quince, putting on his protective mask.

Connor twirled his sword, laughing at Quince's move.

"Still worried about that pretty face of yours?"

"Just protecting my most valuable asset," replied Quince, slipping his mask in place and drawing his broadsword.

The rivals started to fight. Quince's heavy strikes caused a problem for Connor. He had not fought anyone this big since the Kurgan. He evaded the heavier strikes while deflecting the lighter ones. Quince managed to trip Connor, but he was able to pull him forward, so he could regain his footing.

"Oh man, these guys should sell tickets," whispered Richie as he saw Quince punch Connor twice in the face.

Elsewhere, Owen was racing through the streets of Seacouver, hoping to reach Soldier's Bridge in time. Duncan followed closely behind in his T-Bird. But Owen was taking routes that were not suited for cars, giving himself a lead.

"Hmph," he said to himself. "And Dad calls ME stubborn?"

Back at the bridge, Connor was able to find an opening and cut Quince right in the face. The large Immortal screamed in agony and pulled off his mask. The fight continued with Connor finding another opening and stabbing Quince in the side. Connor raised his katana to deliver the finishing blow, but Quince shot him with a barb from the handle of his sword. In pain, Connor retreated and fell over the edge of bridge, into the water below.

"Bye-bye," laughed Quince.

Then, he heard the sound of a motorcycle, as Owen raced to a stop. Throwing off his helmet and grabbing his own katana, Owen leaped over the fence to face his target.

"Quince, this ends now!" he demanded.

He lunged forward and fought Quince blade to blade. Quince tried to trap Owen against the edge, but Owen kicked his way free. His addition of physical strikes kept Quince off balance, but the large Immortal was able to disarm Owen of his katana. However, the killing blows were not fast enough to strike Owen.

"Your cutting's slow, Quince, Come on!" taunted Owen.

Quince was soon able to headlock Owen with his sword, but Owen used his hidden knife to stab him in his hand, freeing himself. Retrieving his sword, Owen reengaged Quince before knocking him down. Recovering, Quince charged at Owen, but Owen dodged and sliced him across the abdomen, bringing the large Immortal to his knees.

"Bullseye," said Owen to himself, as he turned and raised his katana high above him.

"Finish it, Highlander," demanded Quince.

"There can be only one," remined Owen.

Swinging downward with all of his might, Owen took Quince's head. Moments after the body fell, Owen was hit with Quince's Quickening. Lighting flashed, windows shattered, bulbs exploded as Owen unleashed a charging yell. When the surge subsided, Owen fell to his knees. Then he looked up and saw Richie watching.

"Whoa. Chill, man. Just... just pretend I'm not here," said the boy.

Grabbing his sword, Owen jumped off the bridge and into the river. As for Duncan, he had seen the whole fight but decided to drive on when it ended.

As the sun rose over the city, Owen helped Connor out of the water and set him down on the shore. Sadly, Connor's white braid katana had been lost in the water. Owen reached for the barb in Connor's chest.

"Go for it. That's it," encouraged Connor, before Owen yanked the projectile free. "Aaah, oh, God!"

"I know this won't come as a surprise," Owen teased, "But you'll live."

"I should have known it - you're never on time. Like your father. Slan?"

"His Quickening's mine."

"I guess your father isn't the only one who had all the fun and most of the good women," laughed Connor.

"Uncle, I don't think Dad's going back to Tessa," Owen said sadly. "He doesn't want to put her through this again."

"I understand, but she won't."

Owen helped Connor up to his feet, when the elder Highlander saw Richie trying to hide in the grass by the bridge.

"What about the boy?" Connor asked. "He'll need watching."

"I know," agreed Owen, picking up his sword. "I'll tell Dad."

Back at the loft apartment, Tessa was sitting in the living room, moping. Then, she heard a knock at the door.

"Mac?" she asked, running down to the workshop. "Duncan, is that you?"

She opened the door to the back alley, revealing Owen and Connor.

"Owen, Connor, are you alright?"

"Yeah," answered the elder. "I'm okay. Don't worry."

He sat down on a crate, with Owen standing by him.

"Where is Mac?" asked Tessa.

"He's alive, and Slan Quince won't be calling you anymore," Owen answered. "I made sure of it."

"Owen, where did Mac go?"

"He didn't stay long enough to tell us, but we can guess."

"Where?"

"Do you really want to know?" asked Connor.

Tessa silently nodded her answer.

Hours later, the MacLeods brought Tessa to Duncan's river cabin on Shaman Island. Duncan was sitting outside the cabin, meditating. Owen and Connor pulled their canoe to the shore of the lake and walked toward the cabin. Tessa was already there, watching Duncan. Soon, Duncan opened his eyes and saw her.

"I tried to call you, but..." Tessa began, before running to Duncan, and kissing him. "I love you. I love you."

"That kid'll need some watching, Dad," said Owen.

"I will," Duncan replied. "It hasn't ended. You know that. It won't end until…"

"We don't know when it's going to end," agreed Connor. "We never do. But while we're here... living in this time, in this place... some of us... the lucky few... will still have all the fun. And?

"All the good women," finished all three MacLeods together.

"Heh-heh-heh," laughed Connor. "Listen, I gotta go. The Old Ones are whispering that, uh, you want to be alone."

"You're welcome to stay," offered Duncan.

Owen shook his head, smiling.

"I left my girl alone in the penthouse, and she's bound to have my head," he said. "But you'll both see me soon. Real soon."

"Goodbye, Tessa," said Connor.

"Will I...?" Tessa began.

"I hope so. Duncan..."

"Connor," replied the middle MacLeod.

With that, Owen and Connor walked down the hill and back to the canoe.

"You didn't say goodbye?" Tessa asked Duncan.

"Never do," Duncan replied, as he led Tessa inside his cabin.

Upon returning to the dam, Owen led Connor to his penthouse. There, Lynn was waiting in the living room.

"Owen!" she cried. "Where have you been? I've been worried sick!"

"I was protecting my family," said Owen, stepping aside to reveal Connor. "Lynn, this is Connor MacLeod, my favorite uncle."

"I assume you know about us?" Connor asked.

Lynn nodded, surprised by Connor's calm, chill mood.

"I like her already."

Lynn blushed with embarrassment and Owen gave her cheek a peck.

"Alright, why were you so persistent in going after Quince?" he asked Connor.

"I think he had something to do with Rachel," replied Connor.

"The adopted girl?" asked Lynn.

"You know about her?"

"I told her everything," said Owen. "All of our lives' stories. She also knows about the explosion back at your shop."

"An Immortal was responsible," Connor explained. "I could feel a buzz. For the past two years, I've been searching for the one responsible, and I had a feeling Slan either had a part in it or was responsible. That's why I'll be checking his place out for any clues."

"Good luck," said Owen. "You're gonna need it."

"As will you on your little Paris trip."

Connor winked at Lynn and left the penthouse.

"You didn't say goodbye," Lynn pointed out to Owen. "He might die out there."

"Don't worry," soothed Owen. "It'll take much more to take down that old dog. Now, I believe we have a trip to plan out?"

The two strolled to the living room to plan their trip. During that time, they would go out of town to have more joyrides. While Slan Quince had been taken care of, the problems in Seacouver would continue, and Owen would be back to help. But that's another story.

(Cue Princes of the Universe)

Co-Starring

Wendell Wright as Sergeant Thomas Powell

(Princes of the Universe ends)

Fun Fact: Christopher Lambert and Kehli O'Byrne played a couple in the 1992 film, Knight Moves, effectively a year before Kehli got her guest appearance in the original show.

This chapter is also dedicated to Charles Richard Moll, who played Slan Quince. The series would not have got a memorable start without him.

He was also known as Bailiff "Bull" in Night Court and the voice of Two-Face in the DC Animated Universe.

I am glad that he was able to spend his retirement in peace and despite no cause of death being confirmed, he did pass on in his home. I hope it was painless and while he was in his sleep, something my father and uncle did not experience.

RIP, we will miss you, Richard.

January 13, 1943 – October 26, 2023 (80 years old)

Thanks for reading, please review, your support helps my writing.

R&R, Roland Cain out!