Disclaimer: Cannonball and all related X-Force characters, the Friends of Humanity,and all events, themes, and concepts are the property of Marvel Comics. I am simply borrowing them for entertainment reasons. Highlander the Series, Immortals, the Quickening, the Gathering, and all themes, events are the property of Willam Panzer Productions. Highlander belongs to Rysher. The germ of the idea for the OTHER RULE is borrowed from the story by Ryan Leary and Lee Barnett who inspired the additonal twist to Cannonball's being Immortal. Fenris Cullen is my creation, I liked the name. Jeri/Gerladine Mckenna is mine. She appears in my two Highlander/Star Trek:The Next Generation crossover stories "Footsteps in the Sand" and "Games Without Frontiers" This can stand alone without having to read the others. The e-mail: kareng1@uswest.net

 Jeri Mckenna clenched her fists tightly over the steering
 wheel in a white-knuckled grip. Sweat trickled down her back
 and she could physically feel eyes watching her every move.
 She started merging into the left lane before turning into
 a cross street. The silver Saturn and its lone occupant subjected
 to a downpour, even late February in the Twin Cities was bound
 to be slushy, and snow-melt didn't make it any easier.

 Waiting for the traffic light to turn green, she glanced into
 her rearview mirror. She noted that the black mini-van was still
 tailing her. It had picked up her trail after she rented a car
 at the airport after the flight from Europe. It made her
 distinctly uncomfortable. It wasn't her Watcher, that man was
 persistent. Then again, if it was another Immortal and if it
 was who she suspected, she was in serious trouble.

 The light changed and Jeri manuevered the car in between two
 city  buses then into a parking lot, slid into a free spot and
 turned off the iginition.

 "Better safe than sorry."

 Exiting, she pulled back on the lever that popped the trunk and
 walked around to the rear. She pulled out three bags: one was
 about four feet long and slender, slightly longer than your
 average duffel bag. She'd had a devil of a time getting it 
 through customs.  They'd wanted to open it, of course.
 And it had set off every alarm in the place. She'd told them
 she was transporting museum exhibits from London. They'd given
 her funny looks, but they bought it. The bag held her sword.
 The smaller was her backpack that contained her necessities:
 cosmetics, passports, ID, credentials, credit cards, and
 sundry items. The most important at the moment, a celluar phone.
 The last was a wheeled suitcase with a change of outfits.
 Slamming the trunk, Jeri walked slowly and purposefuly toward
 the church's dobule doors. It was holy ground, she'd be safe
 there.
 
 Swinging back the doors, Jeri absently noted that it had
 undergone some impressive renovations since the last time
 she'd been there. "Not surprsing, since the last time I
 was here was almost half a century ago."
 The dome was no longer tarnished green from exposure, instead
 the copper shone as rich and dark as ale. The place brought
 back bittersweet memories of another time and place.
 ____

 Flashback, London 1557

 Gerladine Mckenna leaned up against the wall of the anteroom
 of the Tower of London, peering out into the city. A wagon
 trundled along a concret causeway spanning the Thames. 
 In the wagon bed sat two figures: a man and a woman, both
 heavily cloaked. Chains bound their hands and feet, a set that
 matched the ones on her own hands. Drawing closer, she could
 see their features: Lady Jane Grey and her husband, Lord 
 John Dudley.  She heaved a sigh that came up from the soles
 of her black boots and ended at the roots of her brown hair.

 "They'd hadn't mananged to escape after all."
 The ship she'd commissioned and booked passage for them
 must've been waylaid enroute to Calais or commandered by 
 Queen Mary's royal navy.
 She also knew what would happen once they reached Tower Green;
 they'd be execueted.  Both had their hair shorn close to their
 scalp as a mark of their crimes and to make it easier for the
 headsman to perform his duites. It also meant she'd join in
 the public display of justice. She was sentenced to a trial
 by water for the crime of being a witch and aiding and abetting
 an enemy of the crown.

 Approaching the drawbridge, the porticullis lowered, the hinges
 creaking as they rubbed against centuried brick and mortar.
 The wagon rumbled inside and its passengers were unloaded by
 a tall man wearing a black hood, with an axe over one shoulder.
 His arrival triggered the tell-tale buzs that signaled the
 presence of another Immortal. However, the man did not turn
 around or acknowledge that he sensed her presence.

 "End of the line, folks," the man growled.

 "Cullen!" Jeri exclaimed, "He knows what its like to be the
  object of witch hunts, why would he...." she whispered.

 "YOU!" he gestured brusquely to Mckenna, "You are sentenced
 to trial by water, this way," was all she the reaction she got
 out of him.

 ____
 OUTSIDE

  Jeri watched as her two friends were led up to a hasitly
  built scaffold, and made to lay down on the wooden surface.
  Cullen raised the ax above his head, with ringng arc, he 
  brought it down upon Jane's neck, spraying blood everywhere,
 and then brought it down on John's neck.  The watching crowd
 in mixed mood about the entire proceedings, some cheered.
 Cullen flung his left arm behind him and snagged her around the
 wais, then flung her bodily into a waiting tub of water,
 hoping she'd sink like a rock.  The shock of freezing water hitting
 her body woke her from her numb state of disassociation from
 the situation.  She felt herself sink and her lungs struggle to
 gasp for breath. The chains on her arms preventing her from
 flailing to come back up to the surface for air. Then everything
 went black.
___

  Present Day

  Seating herself in a shadowed nook, she picked up the
  phone, removing the address book, Jeri dialed the number
  in San Fransisco. If Sam Guthrie hadn't mailed her a postcard
 from X-Force's vacataion in Hawaii, she wounldn't have known
 where to find him.

 __
  X-FORCE HQ

   Sam Guthrie and Dani Moonstar pulled up in front of 
   X-Force's current base of operations: a glorified warehouse
   leased to their teammater, Roberto Dacosta from his father's
   international busisnes. They'd just returned from a run along
   Venice Beach, and parked the cherry red 58' ElDorado in front
   of the buidling. "The problem with this town is that the
   streets are either too up or too down!"
  
  Entering, the first thing they heard was the blare of the
  TV and Tabitha , her blond hair covering her eyes, lying on
  the sofa, zapping through channels. Bobby slept on the
  floor, having long ago given up the fight for the remote.

   "Yo! Mason-Dixon! You've got a phone call," she yelled from
   the center of the room, loudly, but Bobby never stirred.

  "Y'all going to be okay, Dani?" Sam asked, referring to
  to their talk on the beach about Dani's waning psionic powers.

  "I'm fine, Sam. Go take your call," Dani said, brushing a 
  lock of black hair. "There's nothing wrong with me that a 
  good night's sleep won't cure. End of discussion."

  "Kay. Give me the phone, Tab. It might be Paige again."

  "Sure," Tabitha yawned and handed him the cordless phone.

  Placing the reciver to his ear, he flopped down on the
  couch next to Taibtha, absently noting that she was now
  watching CNN.
 
  "Paige, is that you? Is Ma okay? She's getting better with
  the treatment at that facility in Louisville, right?" Sam,
  asked, worried. It had been only a couple of months when he'd
  learned that hism mother had come down with some obscure
  syndrome. It wasn't fatal, however, it required treatment and 
  a lengthy hospital stay.

 "Sam, it's not your sister," a woman, with a Scotish
 burr, said on the other end of the line.

 "You sound awfully familar.  Who is this?"
 
 "Sam, I'm sorry to hear about your mother. It's Jeri Mckenna."

 "OH MY GOD! Jeri, where y'all been hiding yourself, girl?"

 "It's a long story, Sam."
 
 "Coming from you, ah'd believe it. What's up?"

 "I have a situation that involves you. I can't say how or 
  why....."

 "You sound like you've seen a ghost. We've been friends too'
  long, don't hedge your bets with me, Jeri."
  
 "Sam, there's a man. His name is Fenris Cullen. He knows all
  about you, all about your family, your sister, Paige."

 "Does he know about X-Force?" Sam asked, a tone of suspicion
  and worry creeping into his voice, making his Kentucky drawal
 even more pronounced.

 "No.  He doesn't care about X-Force. At least I don't believe
 he does. It's you he wants. He knows everything that happened
 when you died and came back to life."

 "Were the Externals mentioned?"

 "No. He thinks you're one of the Immortals, like Macleod,
 Methos, and myself."

 "He thinks I'm Immortal participating in that ol' cosmic
 Game of yours?" Sam almost choked on the irony and absurbity
 of it all. Jeri Mckenna wouldn't have called with a story like
 that for the sake of a practical joke.

 "Yes. Sam. I'm sorry. I wouldn't ask if it wasn't necessary.
 Please, believe me."

 "What do you need?"

 "I need you to come meet me in Minneapolis by the cherry and
  the spoon."

 "That some kind of Immortal code?"

 " NO. It's an actual sculpture at the Walker Art Center."

 "Jeri, X-Force..."

 "I understand that your first loyalty is to X-Force, and
 the cause you're fighting for.  What do you know about a
 group calling itself the "Friends of Humanity?"

 "They're bad news, anti-mutant vigilantes. Stay away from
 them, Jeri."

 "Fenris Cullen is one of them."

 "An Immortal is one of their bloodhounds?"
  
 "Look, I can't say anymore over the phone, just trust me.
 Fenris may have followed me here. He wants you."

 "I'll be there. I'll figure out something to tell the others.
 Jeri, stay put, and be careful." 

  "Thanks, Sam. Thanks a million. Bye," Jeri hung up and
  the phone on the other end clicked with a dull chime.

  "What was that all about, Sam?" Tabitha asked.
  "Your sister, okay?"

  "Yes, Paige is fine. She sends her's and Ma's love,"
  Sam fudged.  "You think the guys will miss me for a few
  days if I went back to Kentucky for a visit?"

 "Why not? It's not like you're the life of the party."
 Tabitha said, picking up a copy of Reader's Digest.

 "Tab, you keep that up and people might think you have a
  a brain," Sam warned.

  "Very funny," she growled and went back to reading before
  her head hit the couch cushions.

  "That was simple enough, might as well take a deep breath
  and jump right in. It was bad enough being an Immortal
  mutant, but now...." he muttered and trundled off to bed.

 ___
  Next Afternoon

 Being a mutant has its advantages, being able to fly with the
 wind in his face, was definitely one of them." Sam thought.
 Igniting his kinetic blast field, he launched himself into
 the sky. He adjusted his speed slightly to pace himself.
 He figured he'd maket he Midwest in about three hours.

 __
 The Scuplture Garden

 "Jeri, you here?" Sam said, turning off his blast field
 and drifting down to a landing on the tiled pathway.
 He never thought about the fact that his powers seemed to
 insulate him from temperature extremes. Northern California
 in February was like spring here. 
 Taking stock of his surroundings, he noticed that Mckenna hadn't
 been kidding when she'd said "meet at the cherry and the spoon'
 It was a sculpture, about the size of a house. A silver 
 implement, gleaming in the brrittle winter sunlight.
 It arched like some medieval catapult primed to launch 
 boulders at some castle. Instead of a boulder, perched on the
 rounded end of the spoon, was a large red, cherry, threatening
 to topple at any moment.

 "Over here."

 Jeri's Scottish drawl echoed as she came around from the
  mounted portion of the sculpture. Her brown hair was swept
 up into a braid. She was dressed in a black, knee-length
 outfit with black boots, with her sword strapped to her back.

  Giving his friend a quick glance that took in everything,
 Sam would have said she resembled a tail-twitching panther
 about to pounce.

 "Kinda an odd place for a clandenstine meeting," Sam joked,
 trying to lighten the tense atmosphere.

 "You were expecting a romantic rendevouz?" Jeri managed to
 grin, picking up on Sam's lead and glided over to give the
 Kentucky-born mutant a hug and a peck on the cheek.
 "You're looking good, Sam. Blue suits you."

 "So where is this guy, anyway? And just how much does he
 know about me?" Sam asked, getting back to serious business.

  "Everything, Sam. His dossier file on you is probably as
  complete as the Watcher database on Immortals. He's had
  two hundred and fifty years to complie it. He's recently
  hacked into the Xavier files."

 "Why is he interested in me? Why not other mutnats if he's
  the bloodhound for the Friends of Humanity?"

 "He may become interested in other mutants, I'm not really
  sure.  The others Externals, as you call them, are for
 all practical purposes, defunct. With them out of the way..."

  "Other than the black-sheep, Selene, I'm the only one left.
  How do you know she iced the others?"

  "Bad news travels fast. It was in the papers. Plus the 
  throwdown with the Externals was pretty obvious, since it
  took place in Rockfeller Center. Plus, my curiosity was
 piqued by the fact that the police files from the NYPD
 precinct disappeared almost immediately after X-Force's
 bail was posted."

  "Okay, I'll buy that. Now what?"

 "Let's go the to the conservatory."

 __
 
  INSIDE
  
 "Is he coming?" Sam asked anxiously, rocking back and forth
 on his heels. Sam suddenly winced in pain as a dull throbbing
 buzz began at the base of his spine and worked its way up
 behind his skull. He could sense that someone was there, but
 he couldn't put his finger on exactly where they were. Yet,
 he could feel eyes watching him.  Jeri reacted in a similar
 manner, drawing her sword, she began pacing the length of
 the building. She turned her head, staring into shadowed
 corners, checking all exits and entrances.

 "Who's there?" Sam demanded.

 "Guess that answers that question, boyo?" a man's gravely
  voice said. A figure emergedf fromt the shadows, leveling
 open a pane in the glass walls, and stepped into the light.

 "Fenris Cullen, I presume?" Sam said.

 "The same."

 "Geraldine Mckenna." 

 "Ah guess you already know who I am."
 
 "Samuel Guthrie. YOU, ME, NOW. Guthrie, I assume you're
 up to it, boyo." Cullen laughed, which sounded like nails
 being run down  a chalkboard.

 "Any time, pal," Sam growled, a heartbeat away from iginiting
 his blast field, it had been a long time since anyone could
 get away with calling him a 'boy.'  This Cullen fellow was
 definitely rasing his hackles.

 "Hold It! I want to evoke the Other Rule!" Jeri yelled.

 "What the bloody hell are you talking about, woman>"
  Cullen growled.

 "There's an obscure rule among Immortals. Marvels are
 exempt from particpating in the Game because Immortals
 aren't allowed to challenge them, because of the unpredictable
 nature of the X-Factor tipping the scales during a fight,"
 Jeri explained.

 "Who cares? I challenged him, he accepted," Cullen said, 
 pulling a sabre out.

 "As his teacher, this fight is mine."

 "You're his teacher?" Cullen asked as if he didn't quite
 believe her. His eyes narrowed in concentration, trying to
 assimilate this bit of information, and if it worked out in
 his favor.  Evidently the answer ended up in the plus
 column because he turned back to her, and grunted with
 an affirmative nod. "Agreed. Okay, Mckenna. I've heard of
 you. This time you're not walking away from me."

 "Jeri, I don't need you to protect me," Sam whispered.
 
 "I know. Keep the Friends of Humanity off our backs, 
 and you'll be doing both of us a favor."

 __
   
 OUTSIDE

  Sam didn't have to wait long, for as soon as he appeared
 outside, six men with guns, knifes and other weapons, moved
 into formation.  They surrounded him in a tightly closing ring.
 As even half-dozen, all dressed alike, jeans and cotton shirts
 with a crimson armband tightly bound across their upper arms;
 the stark  black letters: F.O.H printed big as life on the
 white cloth.
 The last time he'd seen those letters had been when X-Force
 had intercepted a federal transport, when they'd been set
 on kidnapping its passenger, Lucia Callasantos, sister to
 their former teammate, Feral.  She was being transported
 to Rkyer's Prison in upstate New York. That mission had gone
 somewhat smoothly, until they reached the house where both
 sisters had grown up.

 Sam shook his head, "What a mess that was."
 Feral had been completley unremorseful.
 That incident had bothered him more than he cared to admit. 
 That Feral defected to the Mutant Liberation Front, was bad
 enough; but the truth of her family's murder that came out in
 that dingy two-story house was a painful memory.

 Sam blinked away tears of regret: "Ah gotta focus on the
 here and now. Can't let old memories get in the way. Better
 ignite mah blast field and get this show on the road."
 taking up a battle-ready stance.

 The men closed in, some chanting 'mutie-scum, mutie-scum,
 over and over, others were eeriely silent, as they opened
 fire, salvos and high octane energy hit his blast field
 caroming off it like billard balls after the opening break.
 The thud of impact causing tiles, dirt and concrete to
 explode.

 "Idiots," Sam thought, deliberately colliding with his
 opponents, causing their weapons to explopde as they made
 contact with his blast field. Taking advantage of the
 momentatary shock, he effectively took them out of the
 fight with a solid left hook to thier jaws. He watched
 them drop to the crowd with a satisfying thud.

 "End of the line, boys. Hope Jeri's doing okay up there."
 Sam glanced towards the glass-enclosed building. Spotting
 the black minivan these folks arrived in, Sam dragged the men
 one by one, by the heels and uncermeniously dumped their limp
 forms inside, then slammed the doors.

 Heading back towards the conservatory, he heared the
 distinctive clang of blade on blade, Jeri's soft breathing and
 Cullen's ursine growling.
 "At least she's still alive. You go, girl. Give'em as good
 as you get."

 Of all the rules governing Immortals, one he knew by heart,
 that during a battle, runing interference by another wasn't
 allowed.  "Stupid rule," he mutterd, sitting down on a nearby
 bench, silently cheering his friend on.
  _

   Fight scene inside.
   Both opponents brought up the hilts of their swords in
  the time-honored salute of swordfighters throughout history.
 They lowered them with the points horizontally about five
 feet above the ground.
  Rocking back on her heels, Jeri assumed a battle ready stance,
  posied to either strike or defend. She watched as Cullen
 ponderosuly circled her, she imitated him, but circled
 counter clockwise, both looking for an opening in the other's
 defense. Suddenly Cullen let out a bear-like growl and
 leveled his sword until it was even with her shoulderblades,
  charging like an angry bear from its den.

 "You might as well get on your knees, and let me take your 
 head, woman," Cullen growled.

 "You'd spoil my fun," Jeri replied.

 "Your funeral."
   
  "I don't think it's going to be that easy."


 Jeri handled her sword right-handed, using her center of
 balance to draw tighter, a white-knuckled grip on the hilt,
 employing a series of thrusts, using its length to dart in
 for arcing cuts at Cullen while dancing back to stay out 
 of his range. His longer, more powerful arms enabled to basically
 hammer away at her sword. For all his ponderous bulk, the man
 could move rather quickly. Jeri parried with the flat of her
 blade, the cross-guard to block, and on brief occasions to lock
 up her opponents.

  She hacked at his torso, tearing a long gash through fabric
 and flesh, using the opposite edge of her sword, protecting
 her hand from slamming into Cullen's. Pivoting on her heel,
 she narrowly avoided a darting thrust at level with the back
 of her knees intended to hamstring her, making it easier for
 him to take her head.

  She narrowly missed another slash at her lower ribs and 
  spun around with a techniue learned in judo class.
  Cullen may have been bigger and stronger, but she'd
  learned that most opponents she eventually face would be,
  and she'd  have to be smarter and faster. She had one 
  advantage that way, she could get in under his gaurd.

  Darting into range, Jeri locked up Cullen's weapon and 
  swiveling around her sword, she swiped it across his 
  throat, as he instinctively brought up his sword-hand to
  stem the flow of blood, dropping his weapon.
  Spinning around, Jeri raised her sword above her head,
  thinking even as she did so, that during their last meeting
  he'd been on the opposite of this very scenario, when he'd
  execueted her friends, Jane Grey and John Dudley.

  "Finish it, Mckenna," Fenris Cullen growled, defiant until the end.

   "There can be only one," Jeri said and seperated Cullen's
   head from his body. After she did so, a white fog rolled
   up out of nowhere, smothering her.
 
    ___

   The Quickening
   The magic contained enough memoires of all the talents
  of its previous owner. his every move. It was all there for
  her to tap into, both the good and the bad, and all that
  entailed bound into the power of the Quickening.  Floating
 in the storm wind, the essence flooded into her and through
 her with all her barriers down. As much as a rush as
 experiencing the Quickening was; in a corner of Jeri's mind,
 she was glad she'd taken the fight with Cullen on herself.
 Sam Guthrie, Cannonball, had spent most of his adult life 
 learning how to control his powers, learning how to fight,
 to survive in a world where mutants were feared and hated.
 But Immortals, and their cosmic Game of good versus evil,
 preparing for the Gathering, that was dastrictally different.
 He wasn't ready. Then all rational thought was swept away.
 The corusacting energy swept over her entire body, sparkling
 crackles of lightning hiting her at her ribs, her upper arms,
 and down her legs. She tried to hold her sword upright in the
 ground, but she lost her grip, and stumbled to her knees, letting
 out a primal scream as the energy coursed through her.
 It could have been ages, but it was only a matter of minutes
 before the Quickening transference ran its course.

   __
   Conclusion   

   Lightning lanced down out of a clear sky, imploding the
   glass panels of the conservatory. It set the double row of
   pine trees on fire, enough for several weeks worth of firewood.
   Sam watched as the black van drove away, and glimpsed Jeri
   stagger down the steps.
 
   "Sam, you don't know how much I appreciate you coming all
   this way to help me."
 
  "Don't sweat it, Jeri. That's what friends are for," Sam said,
 letting her lean up against him and as he led her over to 
  a bench.
  
   Sam lowered her so she was resting comfortably.
 
  "You look like hell. Does the Quickening always do this?
  
  "Pretty much." It's like coming down from a incredible 
  height."

  "You didn't take the fight on yourself for me."

  "Sam, I meant that..."
 
 "But you had some sort of history with that Cullen guy."

  "It's ancient history, but I've left it too long unresolved."

  "It's over now?"

 "Cullen won't be coming back. Ever."

  "You beat him."

  "It took some doing. It was touch and go most of the way."

  "Not that I'm sorry he's dead, but I'm glad you beat him."

   "How long you planning on staying?"

   "Well, not that the emergency is over..."

    "Unless you've got some pressing X-Force business, why
     don't you stay with me, I'll show you around town."

    "Sure thing." Sam replied, as Jeri tilted forward and fell
    asleep, since she was obviously exhausted, he didn't think
    it was that much trouble to let her stay there.
    The funny thing was, Immortal or not, she reminded him of
    his sister, and in odd way, he often thought as their
    friendship in that way. 
 
 


 




 

 

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