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Post by delioncourt on Jan 29, 2008 17:05:04 GMT -5
There was nothing on the television about the beheading as de Lioncourt arrived home straight after the fight. He came home and dropped the swords in the living room, then went over to a counter and poured himself a big glass of scotch then sat down on his deep comfy gray couch.
He flipped on the tv, scanning the news channels for any indication. There was nothing. He switched it off and sighed in relief.
It was over, with Eichmann's death it had meant the ending of a long and bloody, yet secret...war. Those two Watchers must have done something with Eichmann's body and cleaned up the scene. Michael hoped they would burn the corpse and scatter the ashes down a toilet somewhere. Eichmann eliminated, and Michael himself one step closer to The Prize. Before going off to bed, Michael wondered how many were left? He had no clue.
de Lioncourt slowly drank his scotch and sat in the dimly lit room. He thought back on some of the Immortals he encountered in his long life. Darius once told him to relish life, but also give proper respect the combatants you defeat. He was glad that lesson stuck with him down through the centuries.
he finished his drink and headed upstairs. Tomorrow he'd leave Seacouver, perhaps the country. Maybe visit Paris? It had been awhile since he returned to his homeland.
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Post by nathan on Jan 29, 2008 17:48:07 GMT -5
Two days later.
Both Vivian and Nathan gave a report of the events leading up to Werner Eichmann's beheading. Vivian stated clearly to Brian, the AEDOW that she had been following Eichmann too closely and she had been careless. Nathan admitted to having contacted de Lioncourt about the matter. Needless to say that Vivian recieved a slap on the wrist; but regarding Nathan. He was politely ordered off de Lioncourt's chronicle, to which Nathan replied with the same politeness that he would rather just stick to watching Colin MacLeod. Both Brian and Nathan agreed to pass de Lioncourt's chronicle to Vivian.
Now, sitting in a coffeeshop, eating a donut and looking out the side window; Nathan decided that asking de Lioncourt for assistance was the only possible choice he could have made at the time. He felt lucky that he wasn't dismissed from the organization, but Brian had made a good judgment call. He was getting on in the years and Nathan didn't know how much he had left within him.
His cellphone rang, he switched on after the third ring. It was Vivian on the other line.
"Nathan, you ok?"
"Doing fine. How about you?"
"Booking a flight to Paris. Apparently de Lioncourt has planned to return to his roots."
"I see. And his place in Seacouver?"
"There's still stuff in it." Vivian explained. "Oh, and it seems that Seattle has made that huge house of his over there a state monument."
"Congrats to him."
"I wanted to thank you for saving my life."
"No need."
"But there is." Vivian insisted. "You stuck your neck out for me Nathan, and one day I hope to return the favor. Believe me my friend, I won't forget it."
Nathan laughed. "Be careful in Paris then, or I'll pull my weight and have you sent back to the academy."
"Deal." Vivian said, chuckling.
"In all honesty, you'll have a grand time."
"You'll come to visit?"
"Maybe, if you're lucky."
"That sounds like a yes to me Mr. Long. And when you do I'll have a place reserved for us that serves the best food in France."
Nathan smiled. "Looking forward to it."
"Take care Nathan. I'll see you soon."
"Bon Chance Vivian."
Nathan hung up and put the phone back in his pocket. He looked out at the oncoming daylight. He wondered what the city had in store for the people who lived and worked in it. Would it be good or bad or possibly even nothing at all?
The End.
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