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Detective Nicholas Knight sat in a tree near Queen's Park, staring dumbfounded at the
swath of smoking turf, recently vacated by three victorious Immortals. "So," he said to himself,
"these Immortals seem to be divided into some kind of warring factions..." With feline grace, he
leaped down to the ground, landing as softly as if he'd just stepped off a curb.
Knight had left the Cold Squad a little while earlier, and had decided to take a flight
around the city, to see and hear what his vampire senses could pick up. (He'd gotten leads in
more than one case this way.) His sojourn had taken him over Queen's Park just as the Immortal
Kombat (™) had begun, and, fascinated, he'd settled, unseen, into a convenient tree to watch.
As his fellow vampire Janette had predicted, the not-easily-forgettable Duncan MacLeod
had, in fact, been part of the fray. Knight had been impressed with a display of swordsmanship
of a level he hadn't seen since the Middle Ages, when he had still been a living human creature.
Then, the Lightning had come -- now he had a better understanding of how the blast damage was
made -- but why this phenomenon occurred was still a mystery to him, even with his vampire
senses. And what magic had they used to dispose of the bodies? It looked like some kind of
science fiction movie ray gun! And why hadn't they used it before, instead of going through the
trouble of stealing bodies after they'd been discovered?
The whole thing was utterly fascinating. What sort of grudges did these creatures hold
against each other? Even women fought among them! What was the nature of the power they
wielded? And could he tap it somehow, to lose the curse of his vampirism? Immortality was a
heavy burden, but it would be lighter if he could see the sun, or enter a church without flinching,
again...
His reverie was interrupted by the approaching sirens. Knight straightened his coat
and retreated back a block or two, so he could appear to have just arrived. Schanke, Scully,
and Mulder would undoubtedly be among the newcomers.
Not long after their fight, Duncan MacLeod, his student and sidekick Richie Ryan,
and the enigmatic Brianna Belmont were on the move again. They'd gotten back to St. Andrew's
and collected Brian Orser, who was shaken, but none the worse for wear. He was now safely
ensconced in his home with its expensive security system (he was, after all, a rich celebrity).
Brianna had changed out of her blooded clothes. (Orser hadn't been too happy to see that
spectacle. It had taken a few minutes to convince him she was fine.) Now, though, the three
Immortals could concentrate on their next task.
The Coroner's Office and City Morgue was on Grennville Street, ironically smack
between Queen's Park and Maple Leaf Gardens (not more than a couple of blocks from either
one in either direction). Brianna thought this was a little risky, but at least, the commotion in
Queen's Park would distract the Authorities for a while. Also, the tiny Queen music in her head
had changed from the ominous "Don't Lose Your Head," to the much more benign "A Kind of
Magic," so she figured the Intrusive Author meant her no harm -- at least for the moment.
The Immortals came to an alley to one side of the Coroner's building, where there
was a wall-mounted fuse box. From his voluminous coat (or, more likely the Immortal Orifice),
MacLeod pulled out a tiny toolkit, opened the fuse box, and fiddled with something inside the
box, using a miniature screwdriver.
"He's rigging the security cameras in the morgue," Richie explained.
"Mac, I didn't know you had such a larcenous streak in you," Brianna said.
Not interrupting his work, the Highlander replied, "You know of a lot of Immortals.
Have you ever heard of someone named Amanda?"
Brianna grinned. "Oh, yeah." Amanda was Mac's occasional girlfriend. She was
over 1,000 years old, and a cat burglar to her core. She must have taught MacLeod more than
one trick of her trade over the years.
"Hey, that reminds me, Mac," Richie said, "Maybe we should stop by and say hi to
Amanda's friend Lucy. Doesn't she live here in Toronto?"
MacLeod sighed. "When we finish saving the city, we can make all the social rounds
we want." Something clicked inside the fuse box, and Mac leaned back. "It's done. Now we
can go inside."
The Immortals emerged from their hiding place and stepped carefully into the building.
At that late hour, there were few security guards. Brianna didn't know how Mac and Richie had
gotten past them before, but this time, all she had to do was use the Voice on them and they gave
her no trouble.
In short order, they approached the morgue. Down the corridor and around the corner
from the entrance, MacLeod stopped short, cursing under his breath. Guarding the morgue's
doors were two scary-looking men, one white, one brown. Their uniforms were well-tailored
black fatigues, accented with black bulletproof jackets and heavy helmets. They accessorized
with HUGE Bigass Guns. They looked like stylish Starship Troopers.
"Why do I have the feeling," Richie whispered, "That those guys aren't Toronto's Finest?"
"They're something much tougher," MacLeod observed. "International level troops."
"Mu zein wallah," Brianna said. "Those guys are Section One."
MacLeod's eyes popped open. "The most covert anti-terrorist group on the planet?"
Brianna nodded. "Look how tastefully their uniforms fit. Who else would it be? The
Stargate SG-1 Team?"
Mac moaned softly. "Bloody hell. The mortals are pulling out the all the stops. THEY
must be up to something even bigger than I thought."
Brianna knew when Mac said "They," he meant the mysterious Bad Guys.
"Are we still going through with the heist?" Richie asked.
Brianna said, "There's no reason why we shouldn't. My Power should work on those
bozos. And my Gizmo will still do its job. Come on."
With great bravado, Brianna strode up to the Section One goons.
The goons pulled their Bigass Guns on her.
"Halt!" one of them exclaimed. "Do you have the proper identification?"
Brianna smiled winsomely, but she spoke with her Voice, and its odd, commanding
resonance. "You don't need to see our identification. You will let us go about our business."
The goon's eyes went blank and he repeated tonelessly, "We don't need to see your
identification."
"We're not the perpetrators you're looking for."
"You are not the perpetrators we're looking for."
"Move along..." the goon waved his gun towards the door, which the other goon
gallantly opened for her. Mac and Richie followed her in, smiling broadly.
Once inside, Mac asked, "How long does that trick last?"
"Long enough," Brianna replied, and extracted her phaser. It only took about thirty
seconds to find the refrigerated drawer where the Immortal and his head resided. It took only
five more for the phaser to reduce them to vaporized molecules.
Mac asked another question. "Will they be able to analyze the ashes or residue that
thing leaves behind?"
The Time Lord shook her head. "The technology to analyze the residue left by this
Gizmo won't be invented for another three or four hundred years."
Richie quipped, "Where did you get that thing? Area 51?"
Brianna gave him a beatific smile, and led the male Immortals out. To the Section One
goons, she said, "Thank you boys." In her Voice, she added, "You will have no memory of these
events. As far as you know, the corpse is still in the morgue, and nothing has happened."
"Nothing has happened," the goons intoned, as the Immortals made good their getaway.
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