the streets of Seacouver, Washington

Someday he was going to have to find a job somewhere other than at the Dojo, Richie Ryan mused as he steered his motorcycle home from work through the dark streets of Seacouver. As much as he admired Duncan MacLeod, a part of him wanted very much to venture out on his own, to do something that was wholly his. Getting his own place had been a start, but he looked forward to the day when he could say that Mac was not helping him with anything.

As he turned a corner, the sight of a young girl caught his attention. She was standing in the middle of a bustling sidewalk, looking desperately lost. Alarmed, Richie slowed his bike and swung towards the side of the road, hoping to catch a glimpse of some adult who might be responsible for her. When she spotted him, the girl began to wave frantically. Her eyes shone with unshed tears in a face pale with fear.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Richie asked as he pulled up to the curb and let the bike idle.

The girl hiccuped with the effort not to cry. “It’s my brother,” she sniffed miserably. “He got hit by a car–and the dumb jerk kept going. Help me, please!”

Ire rising in him, Richie revved his engine. “Hold on a second.” He found an empty space in a ‘No Parking’ zone and climbed off the bike. “Where is he?”

The girl scampered ahead of him towards a shadowy alley about a block away. “I moved him out of the way as far as I could,” she told him pitifully. “But he was so heavy!”

They hit the mouth of the alley and Richie was suddenly assaulted by the alerting “buzz” that signaled another Immortal’s presence. Instantly wary, he slowed his steps, one hand going into his coat to touch the pommel of his sword.

They reached the body and the girl pointed at it. “Will he be all right?” she asked in a plaintive tone.

Looking down, Richie let out a startled sound and drew back. His features tightened in anger. “Okay, what the hell is going on?”

Instantly, the boy on the ground opened his eyes and smiled wickedly. “Richie! Nice to see you again.”

Richie took another step back, brandishing his sword. “All right. You want to fight me, fine. But this time you’re gonna fight fair!”

Kenny laughed. He sat up and cast a significant glance towards his accomplice. “I don’t think so.”

The next moment, the young Immortal let out a cry of pain as the girl wrenched his arm behind his back with inhuman strength. The rapier fell helplessly from his fingers as his arm screamed in protest of the abuse.

With her other hand, the inhuman child pulled him against her and hissed in his ear, “Surprise!”

Still in agony, Richie nevertheless managed to force out, “Gonna let a girl do all your dirty work for you, Kenny?”

The child Immortal’s smile never faded. “Very observant, Mr. Ryan. Divia’s going to kill you, and then I’m going to take your head.”

“Shouldn’t you just wait until I turn my back? Isn’t that more your style?” the young man taunted.

Divia hissed and pulled Richie’s head back sharply, causing him to let out another cry of pain. “I really wish you wouldn’t talk that way about my lover.”

“Your–?” The young Immortal couldn’t even finish. His stomach rebelled at the thought.

Raising her eyes to meet Kenny’s, she smiled a sinister smile and plunged her teeth into Richie’s neck. The young man groaned one last time as consciousness slipped away from him.

o/

MacLeod’s loft
Seacouver, Washington

Duncan MacLeod stood warily, reaching for his katana as the Immortal buzz hit him. A moment later he relaxed when the gate of the elevator slid upwards to reveal a familiar face. Another man, a stranger, stood behind him.

“Adam,” he stated simply. “Come in.”

Methos stepped into the apartment, followed by the other man. “Duncan MacLeod, I’d like you to meet Lucien LaCroix. We need to talk.”

Mac turned to shake hands with LaCroix. Whoever he was, he definitely wasn’t Immortal, causing the Scot to shake his head in surprise. This was Methos’ old friend? He’d been expecting someone much older.

“All three of us?” he asked the older Immortal.

“Unfortunately, yes.” Methos turned towards the kitchen. “Excuse me a moment–I need a beer.”

Mac nodded. “Do you want something?” he asked LaCroix.

The other man just smiled. “No thank you.” Like the ancient Immortal, he spoke with an English accent.

Methos returned with the beer, took a long swig of it and proceeded to plant himself on MacLeod’s couch with a deep sigh. The other two men followed.

“So, what’s this all about?” Duncan asked.

“I suppose you’re aware of the new headhunter we’ve been getting reports about,” the older man began.

Mac nodded, throwing a questioning glance in LaCroix’s direction.

“Yes, MacLeod, Lucius knows. He’s known about Immortals and about me longer than you have.”

Duncan shot his ancient friend another peculiar look at that, but decided the older Immortal must have misspoken.

“Yeah, I’ve heard about him,” the Highlander acknowledged.

“Well, we’ve got a bigger problem. Whoever this bastard is, he isn’t hunting alone.”

“Who’s he working with?”

“A two-thousand-year-old vampire.”

For a moment Mac just stared at Methos, then he laughed. “You know, that’s almost funny.”

“I wasn’t kidding.”

Duncan’s smile faded. “A vampire? Methos, you can’t be serious!”

“I certainly can be, and I damned well am serious. Deadly serious.”

“But…a vampire?!”

“Is that any more unlikely than the existence of Immortals?” Methos retorted.

Finally the Scot relented. “All right. But what does that have to do with him?” He gestured to LaCroix.

“Quite simply,” LaCroix replied, “Divia is my daughter.”

“Your…daughter.”

The visitor nodded calmly. “She is also, unfortunately, my master. And she is very much alive, even though I myself killed her over nineteen hundred years ago.”

“Wait a second–you’re–?”

“Also a vampire, yes.”

Mac turned to glare at his older friend, who was rapidly draining his beer. “Methos, tell me this is some kind of sick practical joke.”

“I wish it was,” the ancient Immortal responded wryly. “Unfortunately, it’s quite true. Lucius and I met for the first time in Egypt, around 95 AD. At the time, he had just been forced to kill his own child and was in a state of depression the likes of which I’ve never seen since. I helped him find more of his own kind who would teach him what Divia had been too perverse to, and we’ve kept in touch ever since.”

Duncan just shook his head in disbelief.

“Here, let me get you a beer,” Methos suggested, rising from the couch.

“Better make it scotch,” the Highlander corrected him. “Somehow, I don’t think just a beer is going to get me through this story.”