The sound of a gunshot echoed through the crates and boxes, adding internal thunder to the rumble of the storm outside. Attila was knocked back a couple of steps by the impact, but not stopped. He advanced toward the knot of friends, his expression venomous. "That was stupid, little girl. You have no idea what you're doing."

Scully felt herself go pale as she pumped one round after another into the warrior and he didn't even slow down. He reached for her throat and she struck at him with the useless weapon. The next thing she knew, she was dangling in midair, her windpipe crushed in Attila's iron grip.

Mulder lunged forward and Reyes emptied her own service revolver, but it was a futile effort. Mulder was slammed against the wall, and the killer merely laughed at Reyes. His only reaction was an oomph that seemingly arrived from nowhere. His eyes glittered with wrath and he spat at Margaret Scully, "You'll pay for that, woman. Weren't you listening? You can't kill me!"

"But I'll bet I can!" Sydney's shout came from behind the ancient warrior. "I have your damned sword. If you want it, put her down!" She rammed the blade through Attila's side and he roared out in pain.

Now enraged, the warrior flung Scully against the wall, where she slipped down like a rag doll and landed, unmoving, on the cold cement floor. He leapt at Sydney, screeching, "Give me that sword!"

"Come and get it!" she snarled back, deftly avoiding his increasingly clumsy movements. "They might not be able to kill you with their thoughts, but they can slow you down. And you don't want this sword because it's symbolic. You want it because it's the only thing that can kill you!"

The flashlights flickered and died with another loud clap of thunder and they heard the sharp sizzle of frying wires. The useless instruments clattered to the floor as they grew red hot, melting and then cooling into invisible sludge on the cement.

It didn't matter. The sword gave off its own eerie illumination, something between the blue glow of a black light and the murky rose of infrared technology. Attila's misshapen features were even more hideous in the half-light. Beyond the fighters, FBI agents and civilians were forced to wait and watch as the lurid confrontation continued.

"You already ran me through with the sword and I'm still alive. You can't kill an immortal!" His words echoed around them. The mortals felt their skin crawl with revulsion. Slowly the two warriors circled one another, each appraising the opponent.

"You're lying," Nigel gasped from the floor of the elevator. "Sydney, remember the legend of the Highlanders?"

Laughter rattled through the rafters.

Sydney's laughter. "Nigel, I think you're right. All right, Attila. You're a tiger, are you? Here, kitty, kitty!"

The warrior leapt toward her again, evading her stroke with the rapier and knocking her off of her feet. She rolled and jumped up again, but the killer caught her wrist and twisted. She cried out as the blade fell to the cement.

Reyes grabbed the weapon and stepped back, raising it in readiness. "You don't get off that easily, buddy," she warned. "I'm not a martial arts expert, but I'll bet I can give you some serious grief."

Attila let go of Sydney, striking out at Reyes. The female FBI agent was one of the few uninjured and she easily avoided the clumsy effort. She swung the dark foil and caught Attila's own wrist, neatly severing the hand. In her horror, she froze.

That was a mistake.

The separated appendage leapt, seemingly of its own accord, back into place. Flame surrounded the injury and within seconds it was fully restored. Attila backhanded her, knocking her off balance. His fingers closed around the sword and yanked it from her. He raised it over his head with a triumphant roar. "I'm unstoppable now!" he crowed.

He didn't notice the blur of motion until it was too late. Scully literally ran up and grappled the sword from his fingers. Before he had the chance to react, she swung the dark blade and connected it squarely with his neck. The supernatural sword sliced through muscle, bone, and sinew like it was soft butter, and his head was instantly separated.

But rather than the grisly remnants of a decapitation, the warrior's body dissolved in a whirlwind of lights that swept around the room, lifting hair on end and throwing the world into slow motion.

The spectacle lasted for mere seconds. When it was over, the battle's winner slumped to the floor while her audience rushed to her side.

An hour later

The sirens faded as a half dozen dazed figures limped from the mist. The faint outline of the warehouse rose behind them, a black battlement against lighter charcoal skies. Now and then, lightning still glittered in the distance, impotent reminder of a storm now departed.

William was now wide awake and gurgling in his mother's arms. Scully hugged him to her, her frayed nerves slowly healing with the return of her son. Mulder walked a few steps behind, supporting a pallid Doggett, and Sydney and Reyes formed a human chair for Nigel, whose condition was still in doubt.

"The legends couldn't all be true," Sydney remarked, raising her face to the fresh air. "According to the Highlander legend, only an immortal could kill another immortal."

Scully wordlessly fingered the crumpled note that she'd found in the pocket of her jacket, an unsigned missive that appeared mysteriously after Attila's demise.

The unidentified writer left a simple and cryptic message of five words.

THE END