"So?" Mulder asked.
"So... Immortals aren't allowed to kill on Holy Ground. It's one of our "Rules." As far as anyone knows, no one ever has and no one ever will."
"Well, let's just hope that no one has to fight," Mulder said, "let's keep going."
The trio crept slowly toward the main building, staying in the black shadows of the tree line. The wind had crept up again, and the tops of the forest whispered and rustled, instilling the area with a restless, pensive feel.
The grass underfoot was still damp and slippery from the rain earlier, and it clung to Richie's sneakers. He kept the tip of his sword free from the fecund earth and tried to get his mind off the fact that this was Holy Ground. He didn't know why it bothered him so much -- the chances of him fighting another Immortal here were slim. For some reason, though it nagged him in the back of his mind and wouldn't stop. There had to be a reason that a Watcher would built an installation like this on Holy Ground.
They had approached the last building, and Richie's thoughts were forced to stop pestering him. It was larger than it had seemed from a distance and it's brick walls were unbroken by windows or doors.
At the front of the building there was a solitary door. Richie, Mulder and Chance approached it, trying to stay in the shadows as much as possible. Despite the fact that the base seemed quiet and settled, there was no reason to take unnecessary risks.
"This place looks like it was designed to last through a nuclear blast," Mulder muttered to himself as they clustered around the door.
"Okay, Mulder, you said you had a way in," Richie said. "Do your magic."
Mulder pulled a small plastic card, with a magnetic strip on one side from his pocket. He scanned it through a metal box just above the doorknob, and a green light briefly flashed on the box. Mulder pushed the heavy door open and the three slipped into the white corridor.
"What is that?" Chance whispered.
"Krycek's access card," Mulder said with a mischievous grin. "I found it in his jacket."
The hallway they had entered was a coarse white, and the walls of the corridor were bare. The three rapidly made their way down the halls, the barrenness of the place impressing a sense of urgency on them. The hallway was lined with heavy metal doors on each side. Just above each of the dark gray knobs there was a card key lock.
Once, briefly, they heard the echo of several footsteps in the distance. As the sound grew closer, Richie broke out into sweat. They didn't sound rushed, but they were moving at a steady pace towards them. The three exchanged worried glances; in the empty hallway there was no where for them to hide, and if they tried to overwhelm the approaching people they risked exposure. It was a miracle that they had made it this far without being detected... or maybe just dumb luck.
Chance snatched the card from Mulder's hand and silently whipped it through a lock on one of the doors. As the indicator turned green, he pushed open the ponderous door and the three piled inside.
Mulder let the door close almost until it clicked shut, but kept his hold on to the door handle, so as not to lock them in. Turning to face the other two, Mulder was about to say something when he saw the other occupant of the room.
"Scully!"
"I don't want to venture a guess, Carlson," Joe said, slowing walking up next to the structure. Awed and frightened at the same time.
"We've never bothered to name it," Carlson replied noncommittally. "It's much easier to deny its existence that way."
Joe's eyes widened slightly in horror as he looked around the room at the assortment of computers and diagnostic equipment. Sitting in several corners there were two men and a woman, dressed in white, working quietly at a computer terminal.
"How long has this been going on?" he said, wanting to know, and yet apprehensive of an actual answer and what it might entail.
Another haze of smoke bellowed from Carlson's mouth, "Longer than you want to believe, Dawson... the original project actually started in the 1940s -- of course I joined much later."
Joe felt the rage and indignation boil to the surface of his skin like a fever. Experiments -- like what they did to common rats -- and it has been going on for over fifty years! How many Immortals had suffered or even died for their curiosity? Joe held no illusions about the Watcher's infallibility -- Horton had taught him otherwise -- but this... this was simply barbaric.
"So this is what you want MacLeod for? I don't believe you, Carlson... I can't believe I used to be your *friend*." Joe said quietly, his voice twisted with emotion and conviction.
"We all make mistakes," Carlson said, "but our friendship, or lack thereof, is irrelevant, Dawson. I told you that MacLeod will not be harmed, and I promise you that... so long as you cooperate. However, if you refuse to aid me in my business with agent Mulder... well, let's just say that you know what I'm capable of."
Dawson said nothing.
Carlson nodded to one of the assistants in the room, who silently rose and exited the room.
"However, as a memory refresher, I have arranged for you to view the first in a series of experiments involving MacLeod."
"Mulder!" Scully exclaimed, jumping from the hard hospital bed in surprise and relief and running over to the other agent.
"Wonderful fragrance you're wearing, Scully -- what is that? Eau du Chloroform?"
Scully rolled her eyes. Same old Mulder.
"Yea -- I've been thinking of buying you a bottle Mulder, it might help your dating success." Suddenly, Scully became aware of the other two men in the room with her. One was a good looking guy in a long brown trenchcoat, and the other was a redheaded kid in his late teens who was carrying a... sword?
/Uh, oh.../ Scully thought, /Either there are more delusional people out there, or that means only one thing.../
Mulder cleared his throat, "Um, Scully, I think you remember Richie and Chance?"
"Yea... um, Richie, right?" Scully asked, looking at the one with the sword. "I know this is going to sound incredibly presumptuous of me -- but, are you Immortal?"
Richie's eyes widened, "Um, yea. How did you --?"
"MacLeod and Dawson were in here with me earlier."
Richie's eyes brightened considerably, "Mac?... do you know what they did with him?"
MacLeod groaned. The first thing he saw was the lights. Bright blinding lights blasting down from the ceiling, from the sides, from everywhere. Surrounding him were people -- only they didn't look right. Everything was blurry and distorted, the people's heads were huge and misshapen. The people were white, whiter than the walls that surrounded him, and they looked down at him with large eyes. In the background he could hear clicks and beeps.
Everything seemed larger and louder... MacLeod felt a sense of panic rise up from his gut and into his throat. Duncan had been afraid before, but not like this. For some reason, in the back of his mind, the Highlander knew that they couldn't kill him, but nonetheless a primitive panicked sense wracked his being.
A buzzing, thrumming sensation suddenly pounded though his disjointed thoughts. Duncan's sense of urgency about *something* increased. That sensation meant *something* he was sure... but what, he couldn't recall. Desperate to escape, MacLeod began thrashing in the handholds and bound him to the metallic surface.
Joe had watched quietly as Duncan was brought into the room and strapped to a table. The Highlander's eyes had a glazed, indistinct look to them, as if MacLeod didn't know where he was or what was going on. Joe still watched quietly, having no other choice, as another Immortal, one Joe recognized as Crannok, was brought into the room and strapped to the other table.
Dawson's heart wrenched as he saw his friend strapped to the table like an animal. Sweat stained the armpits and chest of MacLeod's T-shirt as he whipped and struggled to free himself. Duncan pulled at his bindings with brute physical strength, his muscles rippling with Celtic fury. His hair plastered itself to his face and neck with sticky human perspiration.
For a moment during his struggles, Duncan looked up and straight into Dawson's eyes. His eyes were glazed with fury and drugs, but Dawson's gut twisted at his inability to help. To Joe, it was accusatory and his own guilt was reflected back to him.
Dawson looked sidelong at the man responsible for the whole operation while Carlson simply watched.
Scully's expression fell slightly, "No, I'm sorry. I don't know."
Richie smiled grimly, "That's okay... back to plan A I suppose."
"We had a plan A?" Chance asked.
Just then, Mulder motioned them over closer to the door.
"C'mon guys," he said, poking his head out the door slightly, "let's get going."
Joe watched the scene unfolding before him with a certain amount of detachment, as if he was watching a movie. Due to the emotional turmoil of Watching, he had often put his mind into that state, especially when Watching Immortals fight. He had often had to regard the while Game as just that -- a movie or a game.
As Joe watched, Carlson sent the three workers away. The guillotine over Crannok's head was dropped by a command outside the room, and with a muffled thunk, the Immortal's life was ended. Joe knew perfectly well what followed.
After a brief pause which seemed to last for an eternity, a translucent blue mist rose from the dead Immortal's body and drifted over to MacLeod. As it passed the "Quickening rod" separating the two Immortals, however, it twisted and convulsed... if Joe didn't know any better, he would have said that it was wracked with indecision.
Then, something Joe had never seen before, and doubted he'd ever see again occurred. With a scream of agony from Duncan, a shimmer of Quickening ripped itself from Duncan and drifted over toward Crannok's Quickening. The double Quickenings together infused themselves into the Rod in the middle of the room.
Then, the lightening occurred. White bolts of stray electricity burst from Crannok's body and wrapped themselves around anything they touched. Some struck Duncan, who was now fully alert. The horrendous jolt of having his Quickening ripped from his soul had dulled any effects of the drugs and returned him to sanity. Twisting tendrils of light streamed from the decapitated body, flicking toward the ceiling, the walls, and the tables, and then twisting back to the rod.
As swiftly as it has begun, the Quickening was over. The air hung still and heavy, and was broken only by the labored rasp of Duncan's exhausted breathing.
His jaw set, Dawson turned toward Carlson.
"What the hell just happened?"
The Immortal, two FBI agents, and the very lucky guy all made their way swiftly down the hall, their footsteps clicking in an irregular pattern.
Suddenly, Richie and Chance halted so quickly that Scully almost ran into them. A dull thrumming buzz filled their minds and souls, and around them the air seemed to thicken. There was something else, though, another sensation back in the far reaches of their minds that they couldn't quite identify.
Mulder noted their distracted looks, "Duncan?"
"I hope so," Richie said.
"Where?"
"How the hell am I supposed to know?" Richie said, suddenly upset at Mulder's presumption for no real reason.
"I just thought th--"
"Guys," Chance interrupted, "why don't we try there?" Chance indicated some large double metal double doors at the end of the hall.
Jogging swiftly down to the end of the door, Mulder pulled open one of the doors and they ran though. Chance pulled Richie aside momentarily.
"Did you feel that... other thing?"
Richie's expression was grim, "Yea."
"What was it?" Chance asked, his eyes searching Richie's face for an answer.
"I really have no idea, Chance."
"Hm, this looks promising," Mulder said, "if you two would care to join us."
Mulder was standing next to a door. There was a indicator toward the top which read: NO ADMITTIANCE EXCEPT TO AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL. Then underneath it read: DO NOT ENTER / TESTING IN PROGRESS.
"Hmm, too bad I'm not authorized... but with today's red tape that could take forever," Mulder said.
"Mulder -- you don't mean to go in there do you?"
Mulder flashed her a look that said, "you-should-know-me-better-than -that-by-now."
"Mulder, it's insane..."
"I know."
Chance looked over at agent Scully and silently pressed Krycek's gun into her hand.
"Here, Mulder let me go first," Richie said, his sword held ready in front of him, "I'm the Immortal."
"So I'm told."
Richie took Krycek's access card from Mulder, and whipped it through the scanner.
"I've always wanted to do this," Richie said as he deftly kicked the door, which flew open.
Mulder's eyes narrowed as his gaze fell on the deeply lined, stoic face of the cigarette smoking man in the middle of the room.
"You..."