Perfect Warrior

A Highlander fan-fic redone for the 21st century.

 We have lived among you for eons passed, fighting to the bitter death until there is only one of us left. Our State of being is our blessing and our curse, for it releases us from death, but subjects us to life. We move silently among you, and have lived many lives but have long forgotten our own. Civilizations might rise and fall, loved ones might come and go, but no matter what the circumstances, we all live by a single code: In the end, there can be only one...” 

The puddle splashed under his foot as he trampled over it. It was a dark and damp night, and the tall apartment buildings above blew exhaust form their chimneys like smoke stacks in a factory. James made his way down a dark street, trying to be careful not to draw attention to himself from the open windows that peppered the faces of the apartment buildings around him. The ends of his long black trench coat swayed in the wind as he dashed silently along the side walk. His black haired pony tail, glimmered sleekly under the yellow street lights that hung up above. The New York air was bone chillingly cold and made the tip of James’s nose water. He had felt this feeling before while living through winters in California, but this was New York, and the eastern seaboard showed no mercy during the cold.

With a quick pivot, he entered into an ally way.  Saturated with garbage, his stealth was broken as his feet knocked of over chunks of crumpled up paper and trash. A nearby cat gave off a slow growl from the sudden intrusion and scurried away into the shadows. As he got to the end of the ally way, he saw another long narrow street illuminated by dim yellow light. He crossed over into the side walk and begun to walk slowly up the narrow street.

This was the old part of New York, the part where even the security forces were afraid to venture; which made it an even more desirable location for a showdown. As he passed an old building, he could see inside its window where a calendar was hung haphazardly over a kitchen wall. The year read 2057. Hooray! he would be 527 years old this year, but seeing that he already ceased celebrating his birthday since the war, it was the least of his concern right now. What he needed to do was to catch the predator that was hunting him. "What an Ironic twist of fate" he thought "for the prey to stalk the predator." He had fooled his predator into thinking he was prey, he manipulated that disadvantage to his advantage. A vicious cycle one might say.

Just then, James felt the sudden headache that always came when danger was surefire, one of his own was close and he could feel it. He looked up into the night sky;  a massive towering sky scraper  sat at the edge of the horizon, reaching out into the black oblivion above. It was taller than the rest of the nearby buildings and judging by its distance, was maybe only one street away.  James knew immediately that he had to make his way there. He dashed across the narrow street and into another ally tucked between two condemned shops. The sounds of his footsteps echoed off the walls that surrounded him as he treaded within the narrow path way. As James got to the end of the ally, he stopped at the opening and peered from the side of a wall at the building which was now in close proximity. His eyes caught the sight of a metallic chain link fence that barricaded the building from every side. Damn it! It’s blocked off. Beyond the fence he could see that he would have to travel at least a fraction of a mile before he got to its front doors. The thought dawned on James that the distance from the fence to the doors was placed that way for a reason.

James bolted to the gate and grabbed the top of the chain-link fence. The metal was cold under his palms. He Jerked his head, left, then right, then left again and jumped over the fence. His body brought the fence buckling under its weight and the distinct clanging sound from the collapsing fence rang out in every direction. No use being stealthy any more, thought James and into the blocked off section he ventured. He began to walk slowly, step after step taken with extreme precaution.

Then, out of the darkness came an echo, "hey you, stop" the voice cried. James looked frantically to his right, then left.  A black figure wearing a gas mask came hustling out from of the shadows. He was wearing a black tactical uniform and holding a fully automatic, MP5.

James reached in from under his coat and pulled out a blue steel Colt Python. He pointed it in the direction of the black figure and squeezed the trigger. The weapon kicked up, the loud bang quickly drowned into a ringing sound that bounced throughout James’s ear. Pieces of cloth and clay came flying out form the black figures chest. He fell on one knee and griped the wound with his free hand. At that moment, flashes of red and bright yellow flame begun to spew out from the tip of the black figure's MP5. The sound of automatic gun fire echoed throughthe night. TAT TAT TAT TAT TAT. Pieces of tar begun to pop around James’s feet.

James pivoted in the opposite direction and dashed towards the building. The gun fire begun to meet up with his steps and soon the dancing pieces of the road begun to follow him in the direction he ran. The gun fire ceased. The figure in black regained his balance and begun to give chase. From behind him, James could hear the chatter of radio. It quickly dawned on James that the black figure was not alone.

James ran as fast as his legs could carry him. As he got closer to the building, another black figure emerged from out of nothingness and bolted to intercept James. As both their paths begun to merge, the black guard reached out and grabbed James by the arm. Without even thinking, James spun around and pistol whipped the black figure across the face, almost knocking his gas-mask and helmet clean off. The black figure stumbled side to side before falling to the floor. The blow was strong and disoriented the black figures consciousness. Instinct took over and a black gloved finger clenched down on the trigger letting off a few stray rounds.

Just then James heard a whizzing sound followed by a loud pop. He could feel intense heat stem from the back of his right thigh and ripple throughout the rest of his body. Another round flew out from behind him and whizzed close to his cheek. James could feel the slight difference of air pressure on his skin as the 9mm bullet zipped past.

The pop steaming from the back of his right thigh now begun to burn profusely. James reached around, clenched the bleeding flesh tightly and begun to limp. He was almost 100 feet from the door now, the anticipation that grew inside him almost made James forget the intense pain that engulfed his body. The sound of his constant hopping gave off a shuffling sound as his boot ground with the black tar of the pavement. He was closer now, the glimmering gold handles of the front door reflected in his eye. He limped to them as fast as he could, his right hand tightly clutching the gunshot wound, warm blood filling the grip of his palm with every move.

He gripped the gold plated door handles with both hands. The metal felt cold in his palms and his nerves recoiled from the numbness they sent throughout his hands. With a mighty tug, he pried the front door open. A ray of light came blasting out from within the building. He quickly ran in and shut the heavy doors behind him. As soon he was nestled with in the building’s sturdy walls, he slammed the doors shut an locked them with a might twist of the latch.

 From inside, James could hear the calmer of footsteps grow louder as they made their way to the door.  Then silence. The door then begun to tug violently as the guards tried to pull it open. The door swayed and tugged three times before the jerking of the door came to abrupt stop. Then the sound of muffled radio chatter could be heard from behind the door.

James turned around and looked at the lobby of the building before him. His eyes tried to adjust to the light, when they finally did; his breath escaped him from the rooms beauty.  Its contents inside the building ran extremely perpendicular with its first impression outside. From outside, where it had looked like a broken down condemned building gated from all sides, the inside had a marvelous white decor that made it look like the living room of god. The walls were plated with pearl tile and beautiful red leather sofas sat in the corners of the building at all sides. A Hugh crystal chandelier hung from above and gave off a light that lit the den like a ball room.

Across the room was an elevator with golden doors. Before James could make his way to them, he looked up and saw that the arrow which signified which rooms the elevator was on, was steadily moving down the numeral scale to the lobby. It quickly hit him that company was coming down to greet him.

James dashed to the receptionist desk and flew behind it. He occasionally peered over, to see the  arrow and the number it was pointing at. As soon as he could see that the arrow had shifted to numbers which were now in the single digits, he ducked under the receptionist desk for good and listened for that distinct "ding" sound that signified the elevators arrival.

*Ding*

The bell rang out as if an angry customer would have slammed it at a receptionist's desk. The elevator doors jerked open. Two Canisters flew out, filling the air with smoke in their trails. They landed on the floor with clinging sounds and clouds of white begun to bellow out everywhere.

Tear gas! The thought bolted through James head like a bad migraine.  Tear gas was nothing new to James. He had served in the military before in one of his many lives as a soldier. Child's play compared to worst things he had been exposed to during war.

Just then, dark figures wearing gas masks and black tactical uniforms begun to manifest from behind the opened elevator doors and glide through the smoke like ghosts. The thick clouds of white fog that was being spewed into the air was curving and bending around their figures, making it look as steam was rising of their uniforms.

Just as the first of the tactical guards came rushing out, James sprang from behind the receptionist desk to meet them. With one fluid motion, he reached out from under his trench coat an pulled out two 357 Colt Pythons and pointed it directly in the direction of the elevator doors.

He pulled the trigger

A loud bang sounded off the arrival of the first round, followed with more bangs after that. A barrage of bullets greeted the first tactical guard as he attempted to leave the elevator.

Pieces cloth and blood sparked into the air as the slug of a 357 round struck the first tactical guard in the shoulder. The initial shock, (not the round itself) sent him falling back into his comrades, screaming and howling in a muffled tone from underneath his gas mask.

Like crazed fans at a rock concert, his comrades from behind grabbed every limb of him and begun to crowd surf him to the back of the elevator. The movement was so fluid and instinctive, his comrades shoved him to the back of the crowed and begun pouring out of the door way guns blazing.

James shot anxiously into the black masses that was pouring out of the elevator door. Taking up a tactical positions behind the desk, he fired away.

Soon, rapid gun fire begun to erupt. A trail of bullets pierced into the desk and dotted its way up in a curved line. James hit the deck.  The Automatic gun fire intensified as the  tactical guards begun to take up positions and fire back. The room erupted as if all of World War II was condensed in a single room.

James crouched behind the desk. The mp5s the guards wielded with deadly accuracy continued to crackle and pop. The thought dawned grimly on James that if they didn't hit James first from behind the desks, then they were going to keep shooting until there was no more desk to shoot.

Heavy suppressive gun fire wasn't new to James. Any ordinary man would have broken down crying; however, James kept a straight face and listened for the distinct pause of reloading that signaled his que to return fire. Just then, the hail sound of bullets grew lighter. James could tell at least one of the black tactical guards had ceased firing to reload.

James shot up from behind the desk like a Whack-a-mole. With 357 colt pythons clenched tightly in each hand, he fired at the tactical guards that had encircled his positions.

The revolvers kicked up furiously. James could only hear the ringing in his ears. To the left of him, a tactical guard fell back as a slug drove deep into his face releasing a spray of blood. Another to his right clutched his chest as if he was having sudden heart attack. The bullet didn't pierce his Kevlar, but the next slug flying towards him did. Time begun to slow down and yet speed up simultaneously. James had felt the feeling before; it was the subjective reality of time at its finest.

A sharp pain in James’s chest was beginning to grow. Within the fray of the gun fire, he hardly noticed his chest erupt with sprays of blood as continued barges of 9mm slugs pierced into him. The first feeling that came over him was that of his lungs being unable to grasp the gun smoked, filled air. His eyes squinted; splashes of his own blood sprayed into his face. Dark spots begun to explode in his vision like tiny supernovas of death.

The gun fire stopped. He could feel the unconsciousness of death coming over him. The strength in his body left him like an exorcised spirit and his legs bucked under his weight.  He felt to the floor with a sudden thud.

*

The sound of muffled voices was his first introduction in to the external world. He could hear the jumbled speeches of the black tactical guards from behind their gas masks as they looked over him. "Hostile is neutralized" he could hear one say, “let’s head back to the employer"

Torrents of white light begun to fill his vision as his blood shoot eyes begun to squint open. His eye ball rolled around observing the room. He could see three tactical solders looking over him. There masks resembling the faces of house fly’s with their distinctive red eye lenses and protruding mouth filters.

As they caught sight of his eyes opining, they retracted quickly. They struggled to pull up their guns immediately and drill in a last shot. With a sudden breath, James sprang to his feet. His trench coat flipped up behind him in a unison black blur. With lighting speed, he grasped the handle of another weapon he had been carrying.

With swiftness unmatched, he drove his katana deep between the space of head and shoulders of the tactical guard who was nearest to him. Warm blood splashed outwards from the exit wound in the neck and the blade slid into to place like a warm knife through butter. The tactical guard clutched the blade driven into his throat with gloved hands as if trying to pull it out, however it was to no avail...

Another tactical guard begun to react and draw his weapon. With the blade of the sword still firmly planted into the neck of the first tactical guard, James released one hand off the handle of his katana and grabbed the second reacting tactical guard in a head lock. With an ergonomically firm grasp of the mercenary’s neck, James shifted his weight and shielded his own body with the tactical guard's. Before the third tactical guard had time to adjust for what had happened, he already begun firing. Sprays of clay and cloth begun to pop and spray everywhere from the Kevlar vest. Then, with a clean slide as if unsheathing the sword, James slid the blade out from the first tactical guards neck. With a tight grasp and steady hand, he flung the handle of the katana within his palm upside down to where the blade was now pointed downward from his fist. With a sudden lash, the glimmering blade flew through the air and slit the third tactical guards throat with a spray of red. The swift attack sent him flailing and falling backward onto the carpet. James kneed the second guard in the back and sent him stumbling across the room. With a sudden twist of the wrist again, the katana spun into the air and was now back to its original position, with the blade pointing right side up.  His left hand traveled back up to its rightful place, underneath his right, griping the handle of the mighty weapon. With both hands firmly clenched on the ancient hand guard, James was ready to do battle. The finishing strike was no brutal then the ones that proceeded it. With a swing of his blade, James separated the flesh beneath the Kevlar vest that was the tactical guard's torso. The mercenary's hands flew to the open flesh wound to grip it. As the black mass was hurdled forward gripping his oozing under belly, the sword came back for a second attack and rammed its tip straight through the Kevlar vest, shattering the ceramic armor that lay beneath it, and stabbing though the lung of the last black tactical guard's chest. 

James pulled the sword out from the mercenary's chest and the lifeless black mass slid back. His body hit the floor with a crunch as it fell on top of shattered drywall and broken glass. All three combatants lay dead on the destruction laden floor. James sudden fear and berserker rage left him like a ghost. His hands steadied, his eye movement stabilized. However he felt as something was missing. He leaned down over the first tactical guard he had killed. James slid his foot underneath his chest and steadily rolled him over 

Wall-Ah! There they were. His two Colt Pythons nestled cozily in the tactical guard's pants. Pearl gripped handles protruding out and glimmering brightly under the florescent lighting. He reached down and yanked them out; they slid out easily. He opened the two front flaps of his coat and holstered them back into their rightful places; two shoulder rigs hidden snugly underneath his trench coat. 

As his adrenaline begun to give way, James recoiled from the sudden time lapse. The recent blood shed had taken place within a fraction of a second and his mind was beginning to slow and poise. 

As James’s mind begun to calm, he started to take in his surroundings. Some lights stayed unmoving while others blinked violently. The floor of the lobby which was decorated so painstakingly beautifully was now a dusty mess. Shards and sprinkles of dry wall, glass and wood lay everywhere. The once beautiful and humbling waiting room now looked as if it was undergoing some serious renovation. James begun to casually make his way to the elevator. The shards of glass and dry wall crunched underneath his boot. The fray was over, the soothing feeling of peace and serenity washed over James like the spray from an ocean breeze. James pressed the desired floor on the elevator's wall consul. The two thick golden doors sprang open with a sudden "ding" and James stepped into the inviting opining. He spun around and gave one final look at the decimated room before him. He thought he could relive the feeling of being in god's living room once more, but after seeing the once beautiful decor of the room in thousands of different pieces all over the floor, James realized it was only a maybe. James reached down in the elevator and grabbed the lifeless body of one of the black tactical guards he had shot earlier in the face. "Here we go" James mumbled under his breath, and he bent over and brought the lifeless carcass overs his shoulder and then tossed it out into the lobby. The body hit the floor with a thud and the gold plated steel doors closed behind it. The elevator begun its steadily climb up. 

The elevator doors opened; another room was unveiled. James casually walked into the room. His slow steps echoed a constant tap with every move he made. The room was dark and cold and he could feel the damp air dance on his skin. The tile that decorated its floor was black with little peppers of white smudges making up its grand design. A dim blue light danced off the walls reflecting water somewhere near by. His hypothesis was soon fulfilled as his eyes caught the sight of a huge  lit fish tank in a corner to his right . The whole room looked as if it was an ambient studio set up for mock play. A perching stainless steel latter stood to his left and behind it hung a huge plastic drape that covered up the other half of the room. At the far end of the room where huge signature skyscraper windows that peered over the city lights. The grid pattern of lights glimmered on the earths surface like an ocean of stars. And before the huge windows that peered into the night, was placed a nice mahogany wood desk and a single man occupying its only seat. 

There was nothing placed on the desk except for the Gucci business shoes crossed comfortably on the surface. His beige dress pants sagged downward reveling his black socks which were streaked with slim gold lines tearing to his ankles. His face registered nothing but coldness, and his eyes pierced through James’s soul behind his thick framed glasses. His hands laid comfortably on his lap and his poster reminded James of that of the devil ready to steal his next soul. 

 As James got closer, Marcus continued to peer into him and said nothing. His head moved slowly to the bead of James who was making his way closer to the desk. 

"So, how you been?" asked Marcus 

 The voice echoed in such purity within the confines of the dark room. 

"Cut the bullshit!" James barked back 

Marcus's face tuned stiff, and he nodded his head with a stern face trying to keep back the sudden surge of anger. 

"Sit down" Marcus exclaimed, as he knife pointed his palm in the direction of a chair before his desk. James was surprised he missed the chair but didn't show it. For a split second the thought flashed in James’s mind, The chair in front of Marcus's desk, how could have he missed it? 

James let out a sigh and pulled back the chair. He sat down slowly and snugged this katana unto his lap. 

Marcus uncrossed his feet, pulling them back and tucking them safely behind the desk. He reached behind his drawers, which made James almost jump out of his chair, and with a swift motion pulled out two shot glasses.   Friendlily, he placed one glass in front of James and one glass before himself. “I got an old surprise for you partner," Marcus exclaimed and retreated back into his desk again. Out rose from within the same drawer a clear glass bottle with  brown elixir sloshing within its insides and a black label stamped firmly on its front. 

"Jack Daniels, ahy buddy, just like the good old days?" Marcus chuckled with a smile on his face that danced from ear to ear. He uncapped the safety top with a mighty twist and begun pouring the brown liquid into James’s shot glass. James’s was hypnotized by the elixir's dance as it swirled around within the curvature of the glass only to settle peaceably, and then slowly pour to the top. 

Marcus then pulled his arm back and repeated the process into his own glass. After both their glasses were abundant, Marcus brought the bottle back behind his desk and gently shoved the drawer shut. James picked up his shot glass and swirled his cup around. The dark brow liquid, sloshed and spun in his glass. 

"Tell me,'" Marcus repeated "how have you been? 

"I’ve been fine!" James answered with an annoyed sternness. 

James put the shot glass to his lips, tilted his head back and downed the Jack Daniels. He slammed the glass onto the desk with a thud that echoed throughout the room. 

"You know, what you said earlier really planted itself firmly into my mind and I think your right!" Marcus exclaimed, "Let’s cut the bullshit!" 

Marcus tilted his glass and shot his wrist with a sudden jerk. A splash of burgundy liquid splashed into James’s face. 

"WHAT THE F**K!" James jumped out of his chair! His eyes slammed shut from the sudden action and his arms flung out to either side of him as if about to be hit by oncoming traffic. The katana dropped to the floor with and ear shattering clang. 

Marcus sat by silently, watching James’s reaction unfold in a comedic light. A stiff smile planed itself on his face, as if trying to be held back by surrounding muscles. 

James’s eyes reopened with sudden impunity. He reached down and picked up his katana, his eyes peering through the brow at Marcus, anticipating a surprise attack. 

  "I know why your here." Marcus exclaimed lazily. "And Don't even try and BS me about you being here for Sandra because we both damn well know that's not the case." James waved a finger like a magic wand with the ending of his sentence. "And even though you might stay awake at night and try to lie yourself to sleep that your doing this for Sandra, you know as well as I do that your only here for the prize." 

James wiped the liquor of his face with his right arm and jerked his wrist, spraying the condensation onto the floor. "How dare you!" he shot back! 

Marcus leaned back comfortably in his chair and gazed up at James with a raised eyebrow and a face that registered disbelief. 

"Okay," challenged Marcus, "Prove it? Leave this room now without attempting to take my head." 

James reached down and lifted his Katana off the floor. He then raised it then pointed it at Marcus. "I don't know what it is, but after you fought McPherson, something changed in you." 

 Marcus placed both his hands firmly on his chair's hand rests and looked away. A feeling of sudden embarrassment washed over him. 

Marcus Began again. "I know, what happened was messed up, but bigger things needed to be accomplished." 

"James."  Marcus continued calmly, "Sandra was the enemy, and no matter how you want to look at it, you still broke the most sacred law of soldiers. Treason!" James stared with eyes wide open and his jaw dropped in disgust. He couldn't believe the arrogance that was spewing forth from Marcus's mouth. He stood there unwavering, gripping his katana uneasily. 

Heading no plight to to the hateful registration on James's face, Marcus continued onward. "So even though you think you're here under some weird notion of revenge, you're still acting out on the same basic principles that got you into this mess in the first place. Selfishness! Your only hear for the prize and you know it!" 

 "Enough!" James shouted and held his katana up in a warriors stance ready to do battle. 

Marcus slowly got up from his chair and walked casually around his desk. The sound of his Gucci shoes echoed a tap with every slow and steady step. He firmly planted a seat at the corner of his desk and crossed his hands over his knee. 

Marcus stared into James’s eyes with a smug look and a familiar disbelieving gaze. “Is this what you really want?" Questioned Marcus. 

"Yes." answered James without hesitation. It was time. 

 Confident that James wasn't going to make a sudden move, Marcus leaned back and reached under his desk. From under the wooden surface, out manifested a pair of hook swords. He tossed the metal weapons on top of his desk and stood up. As he faced James, he then began to gently unbutton his beige tuxedo. He pealed it of himself, sleeve by sleeve then whipped it behind him where it floated to the floor like a leaf. 

Even without his tailor made, tuxedo top, Marcus still looked professional. His white dress shirt was hard pressed and unwrinkled and he looked momentary handsome, thought James, before Marcus whipped his confederate flag designed tie off his neck and tossed it to the floor. 

Marcus grabbed the two cane like weapons firmly by their hand guards and brought them up into a defensive position. Each sword reached up vertically into the air, ready to do battle at a moment’s notice. 

"Well, I guess this was supposed to happen sooner or later." 

James didn’t say anything, Marcus continued, 

"We could have either been the best, of friends or the worst of enemies, but being what we are, it nevertheless still comes down to a simple fact... 

"THERE CAN BE..." 

James finished 

"ONLY ONE!" 

  

Just then Marcus charged forward, cocking his arm back, ready to bring down one jagged hook like a lightning bolt on James shoulder. With cat like speed, James lifted his katana for the block. Both swords collided with a loud clang that echoed throughout the room. They were now close to one-another to where they could now see the ambitions of victory in each other’s eyes. With his right arm preoccupied, Marcus swung his left arm around for a side swipe for James's gut. James hoped back avoiding the swipe. He then cocked back and sprang forward with a mighty thrust that got in and shoved Marcus back, almost knocking him on his a*s. Marcus stumbled backwards in a daze, but quickly regained his footing and brought up both swords in a defensive position, crisscrossing in midair. 

They Both peered deeply at each other again. This time, deep rage filled Marcus's eyes. James looked back in a light grin that taunted Marcus for more. The sight made Marcus's temper swell like a balloon, and with a loud battle cry, Marcus charged into the fray again. "AHHHHGGGGGG, THERE CAN BE ONLY ONE" He screamed. 

Marcus rushed for the attack. James calmed his breath and focused on where we would block next. Marcus went in for the throat with one hook extending outwards and James blocked it fluently. The sword's loud clangs echoed off the walls of the room. Marcus begun attacking like an animal. Attack after attack from Marcus, only lead to block after block from James. Both warriors, once comrades, were locked into a deadly battle. 

Just then, Marcus jumped back and regained his battle stance. Logic was beginning to drowned out the rage. If he kept attacking like this, his energy would drain rapidly. He stood at an awkward sideways angle and took in a long breath through his nostrils. He brought the swords back up slowly into a defensive position. James stared at him, only now his eyes were filled with an ounce of hesitation. Marcus was like a wild beast with those swords. It would only be a matter of time before one of the deadly ends of those hooks would find its mark deep within his flesh and tug like bait against a fish's cheek 

Marcus and James began circling each other with precaution. The fluttering light reflecting off Marcus's glasses, obscuring the look of his eyes. They continued circling each other for what seemed like an eternity. James broke from his stance and begun twirled his katana in his hands, mocking Marcus with a smile. Marcus never let an opportunity go to waste. At that moment, Marcus lashed forward with lighting speed and side stepped James, just as he was about to bring down his katana on Marcus's shoulder. Marcus caught the blade of the katana in midair with one of the black hooks. James spun around with intense aggression, he used the moment to slide his blade free from Marcus's grasp. Marcus went in for another attack, reaching in with his other hand to grapple at James’s body. Just as James’s twirled, another hook came reaching in, looking for a place in the soft flesh of James waist. The quick spin by James was his best accidental strategy of the night as the hook came within inches of his belly. 

As the katana slid between the grasp of the hook, the swords parted with a trail of sparks from the friction. James was now in the position he wanted to be in, in his normal defensive stance; and Marcus was not yet where he wanted to be, the victor. Marcus was panting a little harder now, James was panting with the same intensity. 

Marcus ran forward again for another attack and begun striking ferociously. James was struggling to block blow after blow, but the swiftness of Marcus and the glimmering of the hook-swords all looked like one discombobulated blur. James begun to feel the blows from Marcus's attacks ripple through his forearms. Another blow came down that was heavier than any of the ones that preceded it, and James left foot gave way and slipped from under him. 

As his stance was broken, the jagged end of one of the hooks came in and grappled onto the side of Jame's right ribs cage. The hook sank in its deadly barb, shattering the bony bars and piercing into the soft flesh below. James fell to one knee and gave off a loud scream. With merciless swiftness, Marcus retracted the sword and tore out the flesh and bone from under Jame's arm. The pain was unbearable, a second shout followed. No amount of screaming could be heard from within the deep confines of the top floor. 

As James stood on one knee bleeding profusely from the side of his chest, Marcus let back and begun to circling him like a wolf.  His eyes cold and calculating, watching James like a hungry animal, toying with its prey. James tried to followed him with his own eyes, green and pain ridden, staring into the darkness that was Marcus's soul. 

Jame's voice erupted from within the room, his breath still in a frantic pant. “So, is this what you wanted?" 

"No, Marcus said, "I wanted you to join me; together we could have been allies. We could have built this world together, anew, and install the very ideas we fought for withing a new society! 

This world could have become a paradise." 

James looked down in disappointment, this was not Marcus talking, this was McPherson. 

"Look around you!" Shouted James "is this what you wanted!" 

"Nooo!" Marcus barked back, "I wanted  to make things better." I need the opportunity again. I need to destroy all this and rebuild." Marcus walked over to the gigantic windows that made up a section of the room and peered out over the city lights. "People will listen to me this time, I can feel it." The reflection of Marcus stared back at him through the glass. 

As Marcus begun to look out the window, James’s opportunity had come. The wolf's eyes were distracted; this was the time to react. He reached over and lifted his fallen katana gently off the floor, careful not to make a sound. 

"How can you say that?” replied James shaking his head, "If there was anyone who knew better, it was always you, but like I said, something has changed you." 

Another feeling of embarrassment drenched over Marcus's body as he stood before the windows unmoving, staring. 

Marcus didn’t even notice James begin to slowly stand up to his feet, right hand firmly clutching the gaping wound under his arm and the left clutching his weapon tightly. Before Marcus could slowly turn his head back to give James his answer, Jame's was already on his feet.   

"Yes!" begun Marcus, and with that, the full force of James’s body went flying into him.

 Within a split second before the impact, James caught the horrified look of Marcus's face right before he went tumbling into the huge windows. Jaw dropped the whites in his eyes fully grown. It had looked like something straight out of a horror movie.

The weight of Marcus's body hit the windows behind him, cracking the glass. His body slid off the smooth surface then came crashing into the marble floor below. Marcus could feel pain surge up to his left shoulder as he landed on top of it. However, just as fast as he had fallen, he recoiled quick enough to see James attempt to  bring his blade down in a swift slice to meet Marcus neck. Marcus's arms flew up with weapons crossed and the hook swords blocked the katana in mid air. James pulled up his weapon and begun jabbing at Marcus's with the tip of his sword furiously. Marcus's, with his back still to the floor, struggled to doge the blows side to side from the disadvantageous position he was in. 

The fray repeated itself several times until James pulled back his strike far enough to give Marcus's a chance to roll over. With a swift tuck, Marcus's rolled to his right and twirled back up onto to his feet.

The roll was so swift that James didn’t even have time to adjust. His blade came down and  became imbedded within the marble, tile floor below. Chips of marble and dust flew out everywhere. James pulled relentlessly to bring his weapon out of the floor and back into to action, but it was to no avail.  Marcus looked down at the stuck blade and back up at his struggling advisory. With a mighty force, Marcus's leaped up into the air and drop kicked the struggling James in the chest, knocking him back with intense momentum. 

James fell onto his back and slid a little before coming to a stop. The wind had been knocked right out of him and he panted relentlessly to catch his breath. As James lay with his back to the floor, Marcus strolled over to the wedged sword and grabbed it by its ancient hand guard. He yanked as hard as he could and the sword popped out with a thrust that jerked Marcus's elbow up into the air. It looked as if it was straight out of the move Excalibur.

Marcus brought the sword up to his face and examined his prize with delighted. The glimmering blade reflected his tan complication and facial features. 

"I’ve always been a man of keeping what you earned, and seeing that I've earned this, I’m sure it will make a fine trophy to my collection" exclaimed Marcus in a menacing voice. He examined it once more before tossing it on top of his desk. James lay on his back with his arms in the air as if he was in a Wild West stick up. His face registered the look of surprise.  

James had to think fast. It was either that or death, and after being able to enjoy life for more than 500 years, the thought of an end to that existence sent a sharp sense of  eerie thought through James’s mind. His heart jumped, and began to pump faster.

Marcus made his way slowly over to the now downed James. Soon, he was standing right at the foot at where James lay. It reminded James of a night when he was a child, and a ghostly apparition stood at the foot of his bed. However, the figure standing over him now was not hollow, and very much a threat. Marcus stood over him, panting, out of breath. James could see that he was getting tired and was ready to finish him off.

"How could you do this to me, I trusted you? We were comrades." complained Marcus. He brought his hand up to a fist, and the fist up to his face.

"We could have been partners In a new world!" he screamed.

Marcus's shout rang-out through the room with a loud echo that vibrated the remote metal ladder off to the side, then, silence.

James stared at Marcus, panting from the fight. Marcus stared back at James with the same intensity of breath. Then with a soft whisper, James answered, "Things die Marcus, times change!"

With that, James swiftly reached into his under arm and brought out  a 357 Colt python from out of his coat. He whipped it out with such speed that it looked like a blue glimmering blur before it steadied. The eyes on Marcus face swelled with surprise. James’s gloved finger squeezed the trigger.

Then, a single shot.

The echo of the shot was minuscule compared to the throbbing in James ear. His eyes flinched from the shot, but not before catching the sight of a red stain explode in the center of Marcus’s chest. Marcus tilted his head down to stare at the center of his torso. There was now blood oozing out from the center of his body. Streaks of crimson pored down from the gaping wound and on to his white shirt like tears from a black soulless eye. Then, a spray of red shot out from Marcus's mouth which steadied into a consistent down pour. His face begun to register horror.

With all the damage Marcus had taken, he had still not capitulated. He tilted his head back up and his eyes meet with James’s. James laid there on the floor with a confused look, waiting for Marcus to fall to the ground. When it didn’t happen, a voice jolted through James head "Oh," it said, “get the f**k up."

James curled his legs up and then swung them forward that lifted the rest of his torso up into the air. The move hurled James on to his feet. He quickly tucked his magnum cozily back into his coat and flew across Marcus's desk. 

With a sudden swoop, he slid across the smooth wood surface and took his sword with him on the fall. Marcus brought his hook sword down in hopes of getting a strike at James as he slid across the slick surface, but to no avail. The hook-end of his weapon came down onto the surface of the desk sending splinters of wood into the air.

With one fluent motion, James fell on to the floor and then rolled back up on to his feet. He brought his katana back in a defensive position for one final showdown. 

Both men looked into each other’s eyes. James’s reveling readiness and anticipation, Marcus’s, blood filled, and registering pure hate. As both stood there staring at each-other, Marcus grabbed the bottom surface of his desk and flipped the wooden structure in the air. James flinched for a split second from the sudden action. Papers and office supplies flew out of the violently swaying drawers as the desk tumbled though empty space. The desk hit the floor with a ear pounding crunch as it shattered into chunks when it fell.

Then, with unanimous synchronization, they both swiftly walked over to each other and lifted their weapons in attempt to strike their final blows. James reach was longer; he lunged forward and drove his katana deep into Marcus’s collar bone. The thrust was so powerful; it sent the katana sliding through the bone and out the other end of Marcus's body. The pain was unbearable, it sent a loud ringing sound through Marcus's ear that made everything around him silent. He gave off a loud scream that made the fish in the in the nearby tank shy away from the glass and scatter.

Fighting against the pain, Marcus struggled to bring his right weapon up. As he reached  waist length, he rammed the curved, sharpened edges of the his weapon's hand guards deep into James's side. The jagged ends of the crescents found its mark in the pink exposed flesh of James earlier wound. As Marcus felt the sharp ends sink deeper in James's flesh, he twisted his wrist and the jagged crescent drilled into the wound with impunity.  A gasp of air escaped James, and they were now both locked in a deadly game of stalemate to the death. 

Both Marcus and James had deadly holds on each other. Tempted to break the dead lock, Marcus legs pushed froward in an attempt to shove James into a wall. James legs retaliated and pushed back. He soon caught his footing and kept Marcus's thrust at bay. Both men stood there pressed up against each other with weapons locked in each-others flesh, struggling anxiously in hopes not to topple under the others weight. 

The pain was unbearable for both of them to bear as sharpened edges drove deeper into their flesh. They began to scream ferociously at each-other as they both attempted to shove the other back with all their might. 

At that moment, as if turned on by some magical switch, lighting begun bolting from out of their eyes as stared into each other with deadly rage. The sight of one another eyes were whited out as lighting shot out in every direction from the eyes sockets on their faces. As the tension increased between them, the center point erupted, and sparks of blue electricity jolted all over the room. Random pieces of paper scattered everywhere and begun to flutter throughout the air. The floor that held them begun to quake under their feet and solid objects begun to tumble onto the ground. The towering ladder that had gave the room its studio vibe, fell over and hit the floor with a sudden clang. Even the fish tank off to the corner sent splashes of water into the air as it sloshed back and forth form its wobbling stand

They could both feel the energy within them traveling back and forth through each other’s eyes. James felt the muscles within his body fluctuating between weakness and sudden surges of strength. As a final attempt to break the stalemate, James struggled to c**k his head back in an attempt to head-butt Marcus right between the nose. However, the quickening that was flowing from between them both was creating a magnetic current which held a grip of his bodily functions. He fought hard for control of his neck. Fighting against the channel of energy flowing between him and Marcus

Just then, the electricity gave up enough to give James the control of his neck muscles. He cocked his head back and shot forward like a speeding built. The brunt of his forehead made contact with Marcus’s nose Bridge and the blunt force sent blood popping everywhere. The sudden impact sent Marcus hurling towards into the ground back first. 

The chaotic blue life force that was creating destruction died out and ceased as quickly as it had began. The rumbling in the room came to an abrupt halt and the twirling pieces of paper came fluttering back down to the floor. The room filled with a silent peace once more.

Marcus lay bloody and battered on the cold tile floor beneath him. He could barely open his eyes to see as blood filled his sockets with every opining of the lid. As his vision begun to reaper, he could see a blurry figure holding a glimmer object, approaching him. Its movement was like water, sliding across the floor and making no sound in its flow. 

He could feel warm hands reaching under his limp arms, struggling to bring him up to a kneeling position. Without resistance, he cooperated. He put his hands behind his back and drooped his weapons that clung to each palm.

Teeth broken, eyes bleeding and a gaping hole in his chest, Marcus stood on his knees with his hands behind his back as a criminal who had just been apprehended by the police. James stood behind him, blood stained sword drawn, clutching his gaping wound with his free hand and panting heavily.

Marcus's voice gargled as blood sapped down his through; his speech shuddering from the constant panting. "If I could go back... If I could go back, I would try and change all this." Tears begun to run down Marcus’s eyes "I am so sorry James, I'm so sorry, everything turned out like this. If we would have won the war, if I hadn’t made that deal, I would have never put you through this. I could have change everything, I could have changed HISTORY." Marcus’s face curled and a sobbing sound echoed in the cold room.

The sight of Marcus sobbing begun to bring tears twinkling beneath James’s eyes. With a sudden swiftness, he reached up and wiped off the early streams of water before they begun tumbling down his cheek. Seeing his old friend sobbing and now a bloody crumpled mess had touched James again after so many long dark years of wanting revenge. The saying popped into his head once more. "Old friends are always the worst, it’s like they own a piece of your soul." The moment gave credence to the saying and a tear escaped and rolled down James tan cheek. He made no attempt to stop it. 

Then, at that moment, something happened within depths of James soul. The lust for revenge suddenly died out like a flickering flame. After all these years of hunting and searching; all the years of desiring revenge, James didn’t want it anymore. Yet, there was still another matter that needed to be taken care of. There had been many people harmed in the wake of Marcuse’s destruction, as he attempted to recreate a lost dream decade after decade. And now, James felt that he was no longer here to carry out revenge for himself, but to carry out justice for all those who had suffered at Marcuse’s hands.

James slowly brought his sword down on the back of Marcuse’s neck. 

"Its not men who make history", James retorted softly, “its history that makes men."

Marcus burst into laughter. Each chuckle gargling from out of his blood soaked throat. “You always knew how to one up me, every time" Marcus giggled. Then, he continued in a soft speech "In the end, there can be only one, may it you James."

James brought his wrist up again and whipped the last traveling tear from off of his cheek. He looked down at Marcus and sniffled, and then did what need to be done. With a sudden thrust, he brought his sword up into the air and swung it back down with all his might, down on Marcuse’s neck. The glimmering blood soaked blade made contact with the soft flesh that coated Marcus’s spine and went right on through until exiting out the other side. Marcuse’s head came tumbling off his shoulders. A horror stricken face hit the floor and the headless corpse then leaned forward and fell  with a thump. It was over.

James tried, but could not hold back the tsunami of tears tricking down his face. Drops of salt water begun to dribble down his cheek and he continued to wiped furiously with the ends of his sleeve. There was no use, they just kept coming. 

"Good bye old friend" James whispered.

With that, James dropped to his knees and brought his hands up into the air as if praying to a holy deity. He waited a moment in the silent darkness for it to come, but a second of silence only followed another. His eyes soaked with tears, his head filled with confusion, he didn’t know what to do.

He knelt there, waiting. This had been the longest time a quickening had taken to appear. After a while, James’s knees begin to grow tired. He attempted to stand up and a confused look registered across his face. "Was this for real!" he thought. "No quickening?"

As soon as James stood up on his feet, a jolt of blue electricity jettisoned across the room and flew right in front of his face. His head recoiled back and his eyes widened in shock. The whole building began to erupt from under him. Another frenzy of blue electricity flew from a different direction, then another and another. Soon, Watts of lightning danced around James in a chaotic symphony. The electric current sweeping throughout the room was so strong that it lifted James off his feet, and slowly raised him into the air. He levitated in midair as the quickening begun to dance around him. The windows that separated the office from the 40 story drop outside, shattered, and sent shards of broken glass tumbling down the side of the skyscraper. A jagged arm of blue electricity ripped through the air and pierced through the fish tank that lay on the other side of the room. The fish tank popped like a water balloon, releasing all of its insides onto the floor.

The lightning storm destroyed the darkened room as it danced all around James’s levitated body. An aurora of white fog begun to raise off of Marcus's slumped corpse and surround James. It encapsulated the dangling figure and then soaked into it like a sponge. James eyes shot open in intense horror as millions of images where being flashed before his eyes. Memories, Ideas, philosophies, feelings, emotions, knowledge, all raced through the mind of James at lightning speed. Yet none of the memories that flashed before James were his. 

James view of Marcus was flipped upside down as the mask Marcus wore for all who knew him was unveiled. Love, Suffering, the desire of comfort in a cold world and constantly being misunderstood became a part of James mentality as if they had always been there. The emotions of love for knowledge and the yearning to be whole rippled through James heart like an explosion of emotion. Questions he had to why Marcus did what he did, settled into the consciences of James with understanding logic.

The lighting storm danced around the room like a tornado, encircling the levitated figure that was James. Papers where incinerated to ash; the desk that Marcus had tossed earlier was now being bounced off the walls of the room like a pinball. Sparks of fire flew out from unknown light fixtures, behind the plastic drapes that hung to one side of the room. The ladder and the frame of the broken fish tank were riding the lightening that danced around James.

Then, the electric typhoon begun to die down, objects that were constantly being tossed around, gently dropped to the floor and remained. James’s body slowly drifted down and landed on the soles of his feet. The blue lightning gave off one final lash through the air before abruptly dying out in silence. 

James stood on his feet unconscious in the room as the last swirls of momentum kept him upright, then, his body rag-dolled and dropping to the floor. The sound of a sliding noise sang out as his boots slipped out from under him and rubbed against the smooth marble tile below. 

***

A voice spoke softly in James’s ear, "Old friends are the worst, It’s like they own a piece of your soul."

James eyes shot open from what he thought was Marcus's voice. It took him a minute to overcome the grogginess. As he begun to regain conciseness, he felt no pain in his body. The pain that was pulsating from his gaping side-wound had simply dissipated. 

James struggled to arise. He pushed of the floor with his hands and hosted his torso-half up. The cold tile floor briefly numbed his palms as he pushed up off them. As he lay there, he started straight ahead for a moment before looking around the room. 

It was a mess. Along with the desk, ladder and the twisted frame of the once humble fish tank, the floor of the room was littered with blank pages of papers, pens and splinters of wood form the destroyed desk.

James brought himself up off the floor. He could hear his knee pop and back crack as he stood up. After stretching out his limbs, he heard a sound of wind dancing in his ear. A piece of paper flew up from under him and sailed in the direction of the windows. He turned his head and gazed in the direction of the grid framed opining that once held the huge windows aloft. A gust of wind flew through from outside and picked up dormant pieces of paper in a dance through the air. The breeze was suddenly warm and inviting, and James squinted his eyes as the light from outside retracted his pupils. 

James cruised over to the gigantic opining in the room and leaned on one of the steel window frames. He was memorized by the infinite grid of stars on the ground which were the city lights burning brightly. The combined formation of the lights sent a violet, radian haze up into the night time sky.

A warm breeze flew in again from outside and licked James face. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small picture of him and Marcus from days long ago. The two were dressed in military uniform as they stood on a hill over looking a ruined city. The city that sat in the background was destruction laden  with puffs of black smoke rising from random buildings behind. James looked at the picture deeply and then smiled. He remembered the day it was taken, right after the battle that ended the war; the battle that they had lost. 

He stood there for a moment as a part of him pleaded with himself to let lose the grip that held the piece of paper in his hand; to watch it flutter off into the wind and sail away into the night. 

The picture slipped a little, and instinctively, James tightened his grip and caught the piece of paper by its edge. He stood there for a while as the pictured fluttered at its edge from the sudden gust. It was almost like the wind had a life of its own and was trying to snatch the picture from out of his hand. He brought his hand back and tucked the picture back into his coat pocket. As he stood there looking out into the night, the saying popped into his head once more. 

The saying was true, thought James, "Old friends are the worst, it’s like they own a piece of your soul.

Author's Note

This is a story I decided to write while I was bored at the library.  I only decided to put up 6 out of 15 pages as a sample so I could obtain some feedback from readers. I will admit, its not the best Idea I have come up with but it was originally designed to be simple and short. I cannot begin to tell you how many projects I've started only to get wrapped up with life and be preoccupied with other things. I actually wanted to finish a story this time so I decided to start out simple.

If you haven't already noticed, this idea isn't totally original. For starters, I love Highlander. When I first watched the film, it captivated me in a way where it never let go. Although the first movie captured my imagination, the squeals were anything but first rate and the TV series didn't quite reach out to me the same way the first movie did.    

I wanted to build off of the Highlander mythology by creating a grimmer setting and creating darker characters. Along with darker characters, I also wanted to create a cast of new characters to give the reader a different experience form what they might have previously seen in the movies or the show. Although James is the only immortal known from these six pages, the other immortal who appears later on, along with James, are neither, Highlanders.

Since this story in all practicality has nothing to do with anyone from Scottish decent, I decide to name this story "Perfect Warrior," in homage to the song by the same name performed by the power metal band "Lost Horizon." The song was a great inspiration for this story.

If this story is a success, I plan on writing two more that deal with a cast of other immortals and more complex issues, such as politics, identity and mysticism.

Please, don't be afraid to give me feedback, positive or negative. As long as you are not malicious, I accept all criticism.