Alice blinked and examined her clear blue eyes. They were a oval shape,
large and almost cat like. She brushed her hair for what seemed to be the
hundredth time and put down the brush. She looked at her burgundy dress and
quickly made sure no makeup had gotten on it. Leaving the bathroom, she was
once again met with the simple confines of her motel.
Taking her keys and purse, she turned off the light and hung the 'do not disturb' sign on the knob.
The waiter poured them both a glass of wine. He never considered himself cheap or even thrifty-after all, he had lived for more than 5,000 years, what was money to him? He had gone from bartering to using roman coins to Swiss bank accounts.and in the present day and time, he never quite kept track of his savings or what money he had. Adam Pierson wined and dined many women in his time, from courtiers and queens to villagers. A lot of them he felt more for then he ever believed he was capable.
Their table had a good view of the harbor, of the dark water rippling and gently tossing the docked boats with their currents. The moon was bright and cast shadows down on the water.
"Adam" took in the smooth red color of Alice's dress. The style was modest yet flattering. The dark color contrasted and complimented her red hair. She had light rosy cheeks, naturally pale and making her eyes exotic. He had yet to seen much of her elusive and rare smile. He himself was glad that he had not chosen the red shirt and had instead donned the green one. He was never a complicated dresser, always just throwing on whatever was appropriate. But he never forgot the long coat. Or the weapon he held sheathed inside it.
Alice fidgeted with her blue napkin under the table. The fabric was rough against her skin. What could she use as a conversation piece? What her work was?
"Where are you from?" Adam asked. She blinked for a second.
"Uh, my family is from Europe. Around Russia." She said. "You?"
"Oh.all over the place." He said. "A little bit of family here, there."
She couldn't help from letting out a grin. "How vague." She could understand being guarded.
"So Alice, do you have a last name?"
The dreaded question. She swallowed. "Um..Alice Price." She blinked, as if not knowing what propelled her to open up and give her real name. She had not done so for a very long time. Her hotel room in fact was registered to a Marie Donald.
"Nice to meet you, Alice Price." He said, smiling. "What are you doing in Seacouver?"
She thought for a moment. I'm hunting down the Umbrella Corporation's viral side effect. No, too direct.
"Just for a vacation."
He nodded. "I'm a traveler myself. Have you ever gone back to Russia?" He asked, sipping from his wine. Before she answered, the waiter came and took their orders. She hoped he had forgotten, but the mind of Adam was quite sharper than the average male. He looked back to her expectantly.
"No, actually. I've never been there. I don't really miss it. I've never been that interested, I guess." She said. Adding a quick smile, she hoped it didn't seem too forced.
There was silence between them as the restaurant buzzed with energy. Adam didn't feel like asking all the questions anymore.
"What do you do for a living?" She asked, relieving the awkward silence.
"Oh.I'm a historian. Research. I know, dreary work. I like it." He said.
"What are you a historian of?" She asked.
"Oh, ancient languages, art. Anything old and crumbly." They shared a small chuckle.
They continued, Alice politely asking questions here and there, mostly just keeping the silence away.
"Hey, where is the old guy?" Richie asked as he swallowed his pizza. MacLeod's eyes followed the cheese and grease dripping off the slice and onto the paper plate and inwardly groaned. He glanced next to him and saw Amanda attack a piece, holding her resistance no more.
"I thought you wanted to keep your figure." Duncan jested. She shrugged.
"Hey, I live forever, I have to splurge once in a while." She explained, chewing.
"Eh, 'Adam' had a date or something."
"A date? Him?" Amanda asked in surprise. Her thoughts went to Alexa, the last woman he had truly loved. "It's about time."
"Definitely." Richie agreed. He looked around at the energy in Joe's bar, always busy, always serving great food.
"So what should we do about this problem we have?" Duncan asked. it was weighing heavily on his mind. God forbid Umbrella got information on immortals. Watchers kept that kind of information, he knew.
"As far as I know, just to keep low." Amanda said. "They have no way of finding out who we are. I'd rather keep out of a lab, though, thank you."
"I agree." MacLeod said. "I think it's-"
They all felt it. Richie stopped mid-bite and put his pizza down. Slowly chewing, the three of them subtly looked around, trying to find out who of their kind had entered their presence.
"Behind you, next to the jukebox." Amanda muttered.
The immortal obviously knew where they were as well. He saw them and then sat down at a nearby table.
"He doesn't seem to want a fight." Amanda said.
"That'll be a first." Duncan scoffed. They carried on conversation, but each kept a sharp eye on the immortal.
When the stranger had left, not even an hour later, he left without much of a glance towards them.
"We should probably tell Methos when he gets home." Amanda said. "Or tomorrow morning, if the old man still has his charm."
"Who is this mystery woman?" Richie asked. Duncan grinned.
"He met her in a supermarket this morning, of all places."
Joe came over to them.
"How are things?"
Richie nodded. "Immortal came by about an hour ago. Just came and left."
"Really? That's strange, they're usually looking for a brawl." Joe said.
"Joe!" A voice called from the bar. The Watcher turned and nodded to his bartender.
Joe jerked a finger back towards the bartender. "New kid, doesn't know his way around. Sorry." He walked back to the bar.
"I might be asking for trouble here, but I'd sure like to know who that other immortal was." Amanda said.
"Curiosity killed the cat." Richie commented. "I'd rather just get on with my life and avoid a fight."
"Maybe." Amanda said. "But this cat has nine hundred lives."
She narrowed her eyes. "I can't help but wonder if he knows about our situation."
"I had a great time." Alice said as they left the restaurant. The crisp air made her shiver, but she hid it, taking in survival training. So this wasn't exactly the arctic tundra, and she was not braving the forces of nature, but she had long ago started using her training in day-to-day situations.
"I did also." Adam said. "How much longer are you in town?"
In truth, she had no clue. "Only a day more or so." She said slowly. Part of her wanted to know this man.
He nodded. Methos couldn't quite understand, after all, he was irresistible, but somehow this woman had not accepted his advances much. They didn't have very much in common and both of them seemed equally guarded about their lives. Not exactly something to start a relationship with.
"Well, could I call you before you leave?" He asked.
She hesitated internally. Alice nodded.
Methos hailed her a cab and as she stepped in, he noticed a scar on her ankle, about two inches long. It was hardly noticeable but only a shade or two lighter than her natural skin.
Terrence Wilder left his upscale apartment and held his arm up to raise a cab. Before one could come however, he felt it. His arm dropped. His eyes became bright and darted around trying to spot the other. Whether it be loser or winner, he tried to find whoever it was. He finally saw her. She was standing in the shadows, quietly smoking a cigarette. He could barely see her, only seeing the orange yellow end of her cigarette. She stepped out for a second, smiled, then entered the alleyway.
"Who may I ask is my opponent?" He asked, stopping at the end of the alley, just before the light disappeared.
"Tasha." She said. He saw the flash of steel and he drew his own sword. "And you?"
"At the current moment I am Terrence Wilder."
"The poet. Yes, I've heard of you. Love your work. Shame you won't be able to continue it."
After taking one last drag, she threw her cigarette down and her boot crushed it.
They both fell into fighting stance. Suddenly, Tasha looked up, her eyes wide. Five dark figures jumped down from the roof, their hands holding guns, the ends extending into silencers. They opened fire before they even reached the ground, where the two immortals could have a chance. As their bodies laid crumpled on the dark pavement, the figures unfolded large body bags, each marked with one logo. It was an umbrella, red and white, with eight sides. A large looming truck pulled up in front of the alley and the four kidnappers entered with their prizes.
"Hey, it's the old man!" Richie said, spotting Methos. He nodded to all of them and sat down.
"You're home early." Amanda said coyly.
"Things didn't click." He said, shrugging.
Duncan shook his head in disbelief. "Five thousand years and all you say to a bad date is 'things didn't click'?"
"I never claimed to be the wisest man, did I?" He defended. "This woman resisted my irresistible charm."
"Not that irresistible then." Amanda noted. She smiled and looked at her watch. "Well, time flies."
"It's not even midnight yet, Amanda. You have something to do?" Richie asked, curious.
"Yes I'm going to rob the Museum of Art tonight." She said, smiling. "Want to help?"
"I'm always up for fun." He said.
"Amanda." Duncan warned.
"Please, Duncan. He's not a kid anymore. You don't have to train him anymore." She said. "But I really do have to go. Beauty sleep and all."
She stood up and gave each of them a hug before heading to the bar to say goodbye to Joe.
"Do you think she's really-" Richie started.
"We'll find out tomorrow?" Duncan said. "Meanwhile." He turned to Methos. "There's something new you should know."
Outside in the chilly air, Amanda held her coat closer to her and walked to the curb for a cab. She sensed an Immortal close by and hoped for a cab to come by sooner. Alas, it did not. She sighed and stepped back from the curb as she felt it growing stronger.
She turned and saw the other immortal. He looked no older than 20 years old, though Amanda couldn't say for sure how old he really was. It would have to be revealed during their battle. She nodded to him and he bowed his head. He turned and entered the alley, lit by a singular dim lantern. Moths buzzed around it, casting eerie shadows on the walls.
They danced, swords gleaming, a tangled dance where one would leave victorious and one would not leave at all. And with that, Amanda's opponent lunged.
Taking her keys and purse, she turned off the light and hung the 'do not disturb' sign on the knob.
The waiter poured them both a glass of wine. He never considered himself cheap or even thrifty-after all, he had lived for more than 5,000 years, what was money to him? He had gone from bartering to using roman coins to Swiss bank accounts.and in the present day and time, he never quite kept track of his savings or what money he had. Adam Pierson wined and dined many women in his time, from courtiers and queens to villagers. A lot of them he felt more for then he ever believed he was capable.
Their table had a good view of the harbor, of the dark water rippling and gently tossing the docked boats with their currents. The moon was bright and cast shadows down on the water.
"Adam" took in the smooth red color of Alice's dress. The style was modest yet flattering. The dark color contrasted and complimented her red hair. She had light rosy cheeks, naturally pale and making her eyes exotic. He had yet to seen much of her elusive and rare smile. He himself was glad that he had not chosen the red shirt and had instead donned the green one. He was never a complicated dresser, always just throwing on whatever was appropriate. But he never forgot the long coat. Or the weapon he held sheathed inside it.
Alice fidgeted with her blue napkin under the table. The fabric was rough against her skin. What could she use as a conversation piece? What her work was?
"Where are you from?" Adam asked. She blinked for a second.
"Uh, my family is from Europe. Around Russia." She said. "You?"
"Oh.all over the place." He said. "A little bit of family here, there."
She couldn't help from letting out a grin. "How vague." She could understand being guarded.
"So Alice, do you have a last name?"
The dreaded question. She swallowed. "Um..Alice Price." She blinked, as if not knowing what propelled her to open up and give her real name. She had not done so for a very long time. Her hotel room in fact was registered to a Marie Donald.
"Nice to meet you, Alice Price." He said, smiling. "What are you doing in Seacouver?"
She thought for a moment. I'm hunting down the Umbrella Corporation's viral side effect. No, too direct.
"Just for a vacation."
He nodded. "I'm a traveler myself. Have you ever gone back to Russia?" He asked, sipping from his wine. Before she answered, the waiter came and took their orders. She hoped he had forgotten, but the mind of Adam was quite sharper than the average male. He looked back to her expectantly.
"No, actually. I've never been there. I don't really miss it. I've never been that interested, I guess." She said. Adding a quick smile, she hoped it didn't seem too forced.
There was silence between them as the restaurant buzzed with energy. Adam didn't feel like asking all the questions anymore.
"What do you do for a living?" She asked, relieving the awkward silence.
"Oh.I'm a historian. Research. I know, dreary work. I like it." He said.
"What are you a historian of?" She asked.
"Oh, ancient languages, art. Anything old and crumbly." They shared a small chuckle.
They continued, Alice politely asking questions here and there, mostly just keeping the silence away.
"Hey, where is the old guy?" Richie asked as he swallowed his pizza. MacLeod's eyes followed the cheese and grease dripping off the slice and onto the paper plate and inwardly groaned. He glanced next to him and saw Amanda attack a piece, holding her resistance no more.
"I thought you wanted to keep your figure." Duncan jested. She shrugged.
"Hey, I live forever, I have to splurge once in a while." She explained, chewing.
"Eh, 'Adam' had a date or something."
"A date? Him?" Amanda asked in surprise. Her thoughts went to Alexa, the last woman he had truly loved. "It's about time."
"Definitely." Richie agreed. He looked around at the energy in Joe's bar, always busy, always serving great food.
"So what should we do about this problem we have?" Duncan asked. it was weighing heavily on his mind. God forbid Umbrella got information on immortals. Watchers kept that kind of information, he knew.
"As far as I know, just to keep low." Amanda said. "They have no way of finding out who we are. I'd rather keep out of a lab, though, thank you."
"I agree." MacLeod said. "I think it's-"
They all felt it. Richie stopped mid-bite and put his pizza down. Slowly chewing, the three of them subtly looked around, trying to find out who of their kind had entered their presence.
"Behind you, next to the jukebox." Amanda muttered.
The immortal obviously knew where they were as well. He saw them and then sat down at a nearby table.
"He doesn't seem to want a fight." Amanda said.
"That'll be a first." Duncan scoffed. They carried on conversation, but each kept a sharp eye on the immortal.
When the stranger had left, not even an hour later, he left without much of a glance towards them.
"We should probably tell Methos when he gets home." Amanda said. "Or tomorrow morning, if the old man still has his charm."
"Who is this mystery woman?" Richie asked. Duncan grinned.
"He met her in a supermarket this morning, of all places."
Joe came over to them.
"How are things?"
Richie nodded. "Immortal came by about an hour ago. Just came and left."
"Really? That's strange, they're usually looking for a brawl." Joe said.
"Joe!" A voice called from the bar. The Watcher turned and nodded to his bartender.
Joe jerked a finger back towards the bartender. "New kid, doesn't know his way around. Sorry." He walked back to the bar.
"I might be asking for trouble here, but I'd sure like to know who that other immortal was." Amanda said.
"Curiosity killed the cat." Richie commented. "I'd rather just get on with my life and avoid a fight."
"Maybe." Amanda said. "But this cat has nine hundred lives."
She narrowed her eyes. "I can't help but wonder if he knows about our situation."
"I had a great time." Alice said as they left the restaurant. The crisp air made her shiver, but she hid it, taking in survival training. So this wasn't exactly the arctic tundra, and she was not braving the forces of nature, but she had long ago started using her training in day-to-day situations.
"I did also." Adam said. "How much longer are you in town?"
In truth, she had no clue. "Only a day more or so." She said slowly. Part of her wanted to know this man.
He nodded. Methos couldn't quite understand, after all, he was irresistible, but somehow this woman had not accepted his advances much. They didn't have very much in common and both of them seemed equally guarded about their lives. Not exactly something to start a relationship with.
"Well, could I call you before you leave?" He asked.
She hesitated internally. Alice nodded.
Methos hailed her a cab and as she stepped in, he noticed a scar on her ankle, about two inches long. It was hardly noticeable but only a shade or two lighter than her natural skin.
Terrence Wilder left his upscale apartment and held his arm up to raise a cab. Before one could come however, he felt it. His arm dropped. His eyes became bright and darted around trying to spot the other. Whether it be loser or winner, he tried to find whoever it was. He finally saw her. She was standing in the shadows, quietly smoking a cigarette. He could barely see her, only seeing the orange yellow end of her cigarette. She stepped out for a second, smiled, then entered the alleyway.
"Who may I ask is my opponent?" He asked, stopping at the end of the alley, just before the light disappeared.
"Tasha." She said. He saw the flash of steel and he drew his own sword. "And you?"
"At the current moment I am Terrence Wilder."
"The poet. Yes, I've heard of you. Love your work. Shame you won't be able to continue it."
After taking one last drag, she threw her cigarette down and her boot crushed it.
They both fell into fighting stance. Suddenly, Tasha looked up, her eyes wide. Five dark figures jumped down from the roof, their hands holding guns, the ends extending into silencers. They opened fire before they even reached the ground, where the two immortals could have a chance. As their bodies laid crumpled on the dark pavement, the figures unfolded large body bags, each marked with one logo. It was an umbrella, red and white, with eight sides. A large looming truck pulled up in front of the alley and the four kidnappers entered with their prizes.
"Hey, it's the old man!" Richie said, spotting Methos. He nodded to all of them and sat down.
"You're home early." Amanda said coyly.
"Things didn't click." He said, shrugging.
Duncan shook his head in disbelief. "Five thousand years and all you say to a bad date is 'things didn't click'?"
"I never claimed to be the wisest man, did I?" He defended. "This woman resisted my irresistible charm."
"Not that irresistible then." Amanda noted. She smiled and looked at her watch. "Well, time flies."
"It's not even midnight yet, Amanda. You have something to do?" Richie asked, curious.
"Yes I'm going to rob the Museum of Art tonight." She said, smiling. "Want to help?"
"I'm always up for fun." He said.
"Amanda." Duncan warned.
"Please, Duncan. He's not a kid anymore. You don't have to train him anymore." She said. "But I really do have to go. Beauty sleep and all."
She stood up and gave each of them a hug before heading to the bar to say goodbye to Joe.
"Do you think she's really-" Richie started.
"We'll find out tomorrow?" Duncan said. "Meanwhile." He turned to Methos. "There's something new you should know."
Outside in the chilly air, Amanda held her coat closer to her and walked to the curb for a cab. She sensed an Immortal close by and hoped for a cab to come by sooner. Alas, it did not. She sighed and stepped back from the curb as she felt it growing stronger.
She turned and saw the other immortal. He looked no older than 20 years old, though Amanda couldn't say for sure how old he really was. It would have to be revealed during their battle. She nodded to him and he bowed his head. He turned and entered the alley, lit by a singular dim lantern. Moths buzzed around it, casting eerie shadows on the walls.
They danced, swords gleaming, a tangled dance where one would leave victorious and one would not leave at all. And with that, Amanda's opponent lunged.