Dragon
Title: Investigations, Part 8 ( Part 1.) ( Part 2.) ( Part 3.) ( Part 4.) ( Part 5.) ( Part 6.) (Part 7.)
Author: carolhelga
Claim: Duncan
Prompt: Dragon
Rating/Warnings: none needed here
Word Count: 784
Disclaimer: I do not own the Highlander nor CSI universes, darn it, though I do own Brunhilde and Pendragon. This writing is all in good fun; I make no profit from it.
Summary: Brunhilde’s out of this one, but you get to meet Pendragon.
When MacLeod finally made his appearance in the main room of the suite, he found Adam Pierson, aka Methos, in almost the same position he had left him the previous evening, right down to the beer in his hand. Brunhilde was nowhere to be seen. “Any word yet?”
Pierson raised one sardonic eyebrow. “And a good morning to you, too. There’s still some breakfast on the cart there,” he added, indicating the serving cart with the hand holding the beer can. He held MacLeod’s gaze, and the younger man gave in first, going to investigate the food. “I do have some news,” Pierson admitted after a few minutes.
MacLeod swallowed the bite of toast he was chewing. “And?”
“Apparently the local Watchers know of only two Immortals currently residing in the area. They heard of the beheadings, of course, but their two locals aren’t involved, near as I was able to tell.”
“Have you been to see them?”
“Are you mad?” The Old Man’s voice stayed mild. “I did give them both a call by cell. They are alive. They’re also suspicious, not that I can blame them.”
MacLeod nodded. He acquired a lemon éclair and a cup of coffee from the tray and wandered to the balcony window to look out at the view of the Las Vegas skyline. “And where’s Hilda?”
“She’s taking care of some business at one of the fine local banks, as well as checking in with the police to see what she can learn.”
“That Grissom--if anyone could find out about us, he could. He and his team.“
Pierson joined MacLeod at the window. “See something interesting?”
“You might say that.” MacLeod used his éclair to point across the courtyard and down a ways to where a man stood on another balcony watching their window. “The question is, does he see me?”
“Might be the police, keeping an eye on you. Or did your Watcher tag along?”
“Could be. I don’t know who they assigned to me after Joe…” MacLeod trailed off and turned away from the window to face the door.
Pierson joined him. “If it’s Hilda, she has a key.”
“And if it isn’t?”
“We talk. Two of us, Highlander.” They both tensed at the knock on the door. After a pause, Pierson approached the door. “Who is it?” he called.
“Pendragon. Let me in.”
Pierson looked at MacLeod’s face. “You’re not surprised?”
“I thought he was the one dead in my rooms. Seems I was wrong.”
“So I let him in?”
“I think so.” MacLeod’s smile was wolfish. “You said it yourself--two of us. Only one of him.”
Pierson nodded, and opened the door. The man standing on the other side slipped in quickly. “Shut it, man. We need to talk.” The newcomer was a good head shorter than MacLeod, black haired and blue eyed, dressed in blue jeans and a t-shirt with a stylized Chinese dragon blazoned across it.. He saw that MacLeod was not alone and paused, disconcerted. When he realized that Pierson was also Immortal, he backed away slightly. He looked from one to the other, then settled back on MacLeod. “I thought you weren’t hunting.”
MacLeod shrugged. “I’m not. Neither is he. Why are you here?”
“Someone’s hunting heads. I thought we could join forces to stop him.” He appraised Pierson again. “I don’t know you.”
“Adam Pierson, at least in this life.” He did not offer to shake hands. “So if it wasn’t you who lost his head, who did?”
“A friend of mine--a Mortal.” A brief spasm of pain flashed across Pendragon’s face. “I know some of us don’t care who we kill. Mortal, Immortal--it doesn’t matter.”
“There was a second person beheaded, too. Did you know about that?” MacLeod asked.
“No,” replied Pendragon. “Though it doesn’t surprise me. Was it one of us?”
MacLeod shrugged. “I only was arrested for it. I didn’t get a chance to find out.”
“Do you know who did it?” Pierson wanted to know.
“I only suspect.” Pendragon scowled. “Either of you hear of Valentine Rawson?”
MacLeod shook his head, but Pierson nodded and said, “Former pirate, if I remember right. You think it’s him?”
“Yes.” Pendragon paced toward the window, then back. “He’s been head hunting for almost three hundred years. He doesn’t follow the Rules of the Game--he never had a teacher, apparently. At least, he never had a teacher who taught him about who we are and what we do. He’s even killed on Holy Ground.”
Pierson frowned. “And no one’s stopped him?”
“I’ve been trying for almost a hundred years. I always seem to be one step behind him.” Pendragon’s expression became determined. “This time he won’t get away.”
Author: carolhelga
Claim: Duncan
Prompt: Dragon
Rating/Warnings: none needed here
Word Count: 784
Disclaimer: I do not own the Highlander nor CSI universes, darn it, though I do own Brunhilde and Pendragon. This writing is all in good fun; I make no profit from it.
Summary: Brunhilde’s out of this one, but you get to meet Pendragon.
When MacLeod finally made his appearance in the main room of the suite, he found Adam Pierson, aka Methos, in almost the same position he had left him the previous evening, right down to the beer in his hand. Brunhilde was nowhere to be seen. “Any word yet?”
Pierson raised one sardonic eyebrow. “And a good morning to you, too. There’s still some breakfast on the cart there,” he added, indicating the serving cart with the hand holding the beer can. He held MacLeod’s gaze, and the younger man gave in first, going to investigate the food. “I do have some news,” Pierson admitted after a few minutes.
MacLeod swallowed the bite of toast he was chewing. “And?”
“Apparently the local Watchers know of only two Immortals currently residing in the area. They heard of the beheadings, of course, but their two locals aren’t involved, near as I was able to tell.”
“Have you been to see them?”
“Are you mad?” The Old Man’s voice stayed mild. “I did give them both a call by cell. They are alive. They’re also suspicious, not that I can blame them.”
MacLeod nodded. He acquired a lemon éclair and a cup of coffee from the tray and wandered to the balcony window to look out at the view of the Las Vegas skyline. “And where’s Hilda?”
“She’s taking care of some business at one of the fine local banks, as well as checking in with the police to see what she can learn.”
“That Grissom--if anyone could find out about us, he could. He and his team.“
Pierson joined MacLeod at the window. “See something interesting?”
“You might say that.” MacLeod used his éclair to point across the courtyard and down a ways to where a man stood on another balcony watching their window. “The question is, does he see me?”
“Might be the police, keeping an eye on you. Or did your Watcher tag along?”
“Could be. I don’t know who they assigned to me after Joe…” MacLeod trailed off and turned away from the window to face the door.
Pierson joined him. “If it’s Hilda, she has a key.”
“And if it isn’t?”
“We talk. Two of us, Highlander.” They both tensed at the knock on the door. After a pause, Pierson approached the door. “Who is it?” he called.
“Pendragon. Let me in.”
Pierson looked at MacLeod’s face. “You’re not surprised?”
“I thought he was the one dead in my rooms. Seems I was wrong.”
“So I let him in?”
“I think so.” MacLeod’s smile was wolfish. “You said it yourself--two of us. Only one of him.”
Pierson nodded, and opened the door. The man standing on the other side slipped in quickly. “Shut it, man. We need to talk.” The newcomer was a good head shorter than MacLeod, black haired and blue eyed, dressed in blue jeans and a t-shirt with a stylized Chinese dragon blazoned across it.. He saw that MacLeod was not alone and paused, disconcerted. When he realized that Pierson was also Immortal, he backed away slightly. He looked from one to the other, then settled back on MacLeod. “I thought you weren’t hunting.”
MacLeod shrugged. “I’m not. Neither is he. Why are you here?”
“Someone’s hunting heads. I thought we could join forces to stop him.” He appraised Pierson again. “I don’t know you.”
“Adam Pierson, at least in this life.” He did not offer to shake hands. “So if it wasn’t you who lost his head, who did?”
“A friend of mine--a Mortal.” A brief spasm of pain flashed across Pendragon’s face. “I know some of us don’t care who we kill. Mortal, Immortal--it doesn’t matter.”
“There was a second person beheaded, too. Did you know about that?” MacLeod asked.
“No,” replied Pendragon. “Though it doesn’t surprise me. Was it one of us?”
MacLeod shrugged. “I only was arrested for it. I didn’t get a chance to find out.”
“Do you know who did it?” Pierson wanted to know.
“I only suspect.” Pendragon scowled. “Either of you hear of Valentine Rawson?”
MacLeod shook his head, but Pierson nodded and said, “Former pirate, if I remember right. You think it’s him?”
“Yes.” Pendragon paced toward the window, then back. “He’s been head hunting for almost three hundred years. He doesn’t follow the Rules of the Game--he never had a teacher, apparently. At least, he never had a teacher who taught him about who we are and what we do. He’s even killed on Holy Ground.”
Pierson frowned. “And no one’s stopped him?”
“I’ve been trying for almost a hundred years. I always seem to be one step behind him.” Pendragon’s expression became determined. “This time he won’t get away.”