Test of Mettle
Summary: It's NSYNC meets Highlander! JC is Immortal. Richie Ryan is his teacher. Justin gets jealous.
Disclaimer: Any mention of actual people are used without the intention of slander, abuse or malice. Richie Ryan, Methos, Joe Dawson, and Duncan McLeod are the property of Rysher/Panzer Productions and is being used without permission. NSYNC are total strangers to me. It's all fiction folks, so enjoy.
Author's Notes: Just for the sake of my sanity, I'm going to indulge in slashing Highlander, one of my other slash fandoms, with NSYNC. Just please give it a chance and tell me what you think.
Test of Mettle
By Dane
Part 1:
Midnight at New York Harbor isn't the ideal place for a meeting, unless the meeting in question involves drug smuggling or grand larceny. In this case, it's neither.
His day started ordinarily enough. He got up past noon, did some stretching before doing some Katas, and had a very late lunch. More practice and writing. Soon enough, dinner came rolling around and he decided to go out to the corner Deli. He was biting into some Peppered Pastrami on Rye when he felt a familiar buzz.
Looking around, his eyes came in contact with a Hispanic man of average height with a finely trimmed beard, much like Howie Dorough. He looked to be about early thirties, but he knew that was deceiving. He had the look of a Miami drug smuggler, complete with brief case and dark glasses. The man approached with an easy manner and introduced himself.
"I didn't realize that someone so famous could be one of us," the man said with Spanish-accented English. He bowed slightly and gave a toothy smile. "Ricardo de la Cruz."
"I don't want to fight."
"Too bad, my young friend. I still want your head. Midnight at the docks. Be there or I will hunt you down." The man bowed again and left the Deli.
Some hours later, he found himself dueling with some Ricardo. They met near the docks, shed off their coats, unsheathed their swords, and bowed in acknowledgement of each other. They circled around each other, waiting for one of them to make the first move.
The sword he wielded was like him in many ways. It was a Rapier. The kind of sword used by the Musketeers in the service of Louis the XIV. The blade was thin and flexible, like his sinewy built. It's weight was light, making strikes fast and furious, and its double edge could sever a tree in half, with enough force behind it.
Ricardo, on the other hand, was using an El Cid Sabre, the kind of swords common during the reign of Ferdinand and Isabella. The blade was a bit wider than his sword, which might cause deeper wounds if inflicted. It being a heavier sword means that less mobility but deadlier accuracy in terms of blows. If anything, a Rapier would lose to a Sabre if unskilled men were to fight with them.
Since he was more than a mere expert in using his blade, it was just a matter of who was the better swordsman between the two of them. An infinity of seconds came and went, before Ricardo dashed with an overhead swipe, which was easily parried, and the battle began with earnest.
* *
Ricardo was a powerful opponent with one hundred fifty years to his age; quick and wily, easy to do kicks and punches. Trying to be sneaky, he pulled out a dagger and lunged it into his opponent's heart. Being the quicker than Ricardo, he sidestepped his body and slashed the exposed back of Ricardo. The Spaniard dropped his Sabre and fell to the ground.
"I'm giving you a chance to back off."
"There can be only one," Ricardo gasped as he felt the pain of the large gash on his back. Preparing for the inevitable, he lowered his head and waited for the killing blow.
"Suit yourself." The Rapier was raised high and it fell fast, separating Ricardo's head from his shoulders. As the head rolled away, the white mist slowly rose from the body and he waited for the tendrils of power to pommel his body. The Quickening was powerful, intense, and rather painful. The man obviously took a few heads but mostly young ones. Bolts of needles/caresses struck him in all directions with sensations of pleasure/pain. The air around him swirled into a small twister and flung objects left and right. It lasted for a good few minutes before the lightning and wind stopped. The remaining immortal stood up slowly, still reeling from the Quickening.
"Dammit! No matter how many heads you take, it still doesn't get any easier," he thought to himself. He steadily walked to his car and hoped that his watcher decided to clean up after him since he didn't have any strength to even move the body into the water. "I hope Richie is home. I need to burn off this one fast."
As he drove off, a figure walked out of the shadows and pulled out a cell phone.
"Leary here. Ricardo de la Cruz challenged Joshua Chasez at midnight in the harbor. Joshua won. Yes. Correct. I'll have my full report at Watcher's HQ tomorrow."
The figure then replaced his phone to his pocket and walked away to his nearby car.
Test of Mettle Part 2
By Dane
JC called me in the middle of the night, asking me to get on the next plane to France immediately. I was still groggy with alcohol when he called me, but sobered up quickly when I remembered whom the hell I was talking to. This man has been missing for close to six months ever since Lance left for Russian Space Training. After he left for his house in L.A., he simply vanished off the face of the earth. Sure, he would call up every once in a while saying that he was still alive and that he was traveling. That, and that he would always send us a postcard to wherever he went. Seacouver, New York, Paris, L.A., Madrid, Tokyo. All this cities and yet it's no wonder we all have a hard time catching up to him.
Since Lance was in Russia, Justin was recording his solo album in Atlanta, and Joey was doing some Broadway Musical, it fell to me to head off across the Atlantic and ask what the hell was he doing. I was lucky enough to get a ticket for an early afternoon flight bound for Charles de Gaulle Airport since I was placed on the wait list. The trip to New York for the connecting flight was pure hell since the only ticket available was in economy class. After years of getting used to wide leg room and champagne in first class, it was a bit frustrating to share my space with hyperactive children that can put me to shame and adults who acted like they needed psychological help.
The trip from New York to Paris was much easier since the only ticket available is in First class. The transatlantic flight gave me a few hours reprieve before chewing JC to bit for letting us worry over his sorry ass.
By the time I arrived in Paris, as usual when anyone of us would step foot on the City of Love, it was raining like it never ends. JC didn't bother to pick me up but sent a limo for me. The driver held up a sign with 'Flurry Fifth' written on a piece of paper. I shook my head in laughter, remembering the time when Joey asked all of us the name of our first pet and the street of our childhood home to come up with our Porn Star name. Since that time, only JC would use this kind of absurdity to any of us. The man grabbed my bags and drove me off to the outskirts of the city.
I just couldn't believe just how wet the city was. It only made the ride more depressing. Thumping my foot on the floor didn't distract me from my musing. It only gave a beat to which my thoughts could go through. My thoughts decided to turn to the change that JC started to show to the rest of us. Lance and I were the only ones who really saw the way he was changing. Joey and Justin didn't notice a thing until about a month ago.
A few months ago, the changes began. JC steadily started to become more alert, paranoid to a point, almost as if there was someone watching him constantly. Me and Lance though that JC's privacy issues have finally gone overboard. Next thing to happen was the sudden desire the wake up before dawn and hiring a self-defense instructor to join the rest of the tour. I think what scared us the most was that JC willfully allowed a doctor to give him a Tetanus shot when all of us knew perfectly well that he was afraid of needles. I thought he was an impostor until he reminded me of that embarrassing one night stand that we shared years ago. And to make things stranger than usual, JC disappeared the day after we all parted ways, saying that he was going to Seacouver. I mean, what's in Washington State other than rain and coffee houses?
The driver jarred me out of my head and said that we arrived. I looked through the front windshield and saw the grand Estate that took my breath away. I may be a simple kind of guy that preferred the nearest drive-thru to haute couture, but I know what I like. From the size of the mansion, I could tell that the surrounding property is huge. Same goes with the inside of the place with the high ceilings and opulent décor. A butler greeted me and handled my luggage to another servant. He then led me on a mini tour while to see my 'brother' and the owners of this mansion. As we got closer to the sparring salon of the palace, the sounds of metal strikes drew my attention. With all the pageantry of a showman, the butler opened the double doors leading to the salon. The shock of seeing what the hell JC was doing made me consider going to a shrink to see if I'm going insane.
JC, wielding a lead-tipped fencing sword, was slicing and parrying against some other guy, without any protective clothing. Shit! I may not know much about Fencing but this could prove to be dangerous. From what I could tell, JC was the one between the two who was sweating in concentration. The other guy, a close-cut strawberry blond with a killer body that could match Justin any day, didn't seem to exert much effort. In fact, the guy looked enough of Justin that he could be some cousin or something.
To the side, there were four people watching the duel. Two of which were seated down on ornate chairs, obviously a married couple that loved every minute with each other, drinking tea and sandwiches. Standing close to the battle was a dark man with dark long hair. His handsome features were expressionless, as if he was looking for faults and rooms for improvements. The last one in the room nearly took my breath away. He was more than handsome; he was beautiful. His dark brown hair was spiked the way Lance liked it; it defied gravity. His eyes were ever changing its color like a chameleon's protective coloring. Too others, I guess, his nose would have been too big, but I think is the appeal to his face. I couldn't tell what his built was but I assumed that he was thin despite the baggy clothing. And that sprawl! It pales to compare with the way JC can conform his body any space given.
Back to the fight, JC was still struggling while the blonde resolved to push his attack, making JC retreat to the all. As much as JC tried to counterattack, he wasn't prepared for the sudden thrust to his abdomen, and so he fell on the floor in pain. As the yell of pain came, I rushed to his side. Seeing there was no blood but a very red bruise, I hauled him up to his feet and smacked him hard on the arm.
"Oww! What the hell is that for, Jackass?!?" complained JC, retaliating with a slap of his own.
"That's for staying away for so long and for fencing without the protective gear," I cleared up for his benefit. We laughed at each other, and walked towards the group of people who watched over us with slight trepidation. With a sleepy smile, he introduced me to everyone.
"This everyone is Chris Kirkpatrick, famous weirdo of NSYNC and lovable elf with the atrocious beard horns," JC quipped. I slugged him another and the small crowd laughed. "Chris, these are our hosts, Robert and Gina Valincourt." I shook hands with the couple. "I found out a few months back that they were some far-flung relatives of mine. The guy with the ponytail is Duncan MacLeod, one of my teachers." The guy gave me an appraising look but I ignored it. "Adam Pierson, Doctor of languages." His hands felt like silk as I shook it, and the smile he gave me, it nearly melted me to the bone. I came out of my momentary daydream to see JC go around the guy that was dueling with him and gave him a kiss. The shock from that action made me take a step back. "And this is Richie Ryan, my new love of my life."
"Excuse us for a moment, please?" I said as I dragged JC to the far side of the long room and face him with a whisper. "What the hell is going on? Is this guy some substitute for Justin? If he is then I'm going to kick your ass."
With exasperation in his voice, JC answered back, "Look, Richie is not a substitute for Justin, okay. Have you forgotten that we broke up a year and a half ago? I told you that I wasn't going to pine over him forever. As much as I want Justin back to together with me, I know that he doesn't want too. He needs to grow up first before anything, if anything, happens between the two of us."
I sighed. "I know that. It's just I don't want to see you make a mistake. All of us don't exactly make good choices when it comes to relationships. So, try to convince me. What does this guy have that makes him so special?"
A mysterious expression came over him like a wave of serenity. "He saw something in me that everyone has forgotten about me." I was about to protest when he cut off like Dr. Evil to Scott Evil. "Yes, even something you guys forgot. I'll let you ponder over that for a few days, okay." He then patted my cheek like I was a little kid. I scowled and he led us back to join in the small party of five.
I knew from then on that something was up.
* * *
It has been two weeks since my arrival and I can honestly say that I'm having the time of my life. I spent the days hanging with JC's friends and I constantly felt like I was a child compared to them, at least with everyone except with Richie and JC.
I hardly saw the Valincourts except during the occasional late nights when impromptu gatherings would happen. They were a flamboyant couple. They loved opulence at its best and didn't hesitate to flaunt it. The dinners they hosted were the best that I've ever attend. The wines they had were like tasting a bit of history. The food served at their table was not meant for the gastronomically challenged. Other than the over abundance of the hospitality, our hosts seem to be aloof with amusement in mind.
Another one that I hardly see is Duncan. JC told me that he was an antique collector and a dojo owner. Interesting fact about the guy is that h lives in a barge that is moored along the river Seine. If you get past the dark, intimidating face of his, he really is a swell guy, if a little boring. Adam jokes its because he was born a boy scout.
Speaking of Adam, he haunts my fantasies now. He may look like a grad student but I see something else underneath those baggy clothes. It's the way he moves that make think that he could do sexual positions that I could only imagine. He would sometimes spend time with JC, Richie, and I on the Valincourt Estate, though he would slouch himself on one of the divans in the middle of the library, his nose to one of the many books there, for most of the afternoon. Sometimes, I would join him there and reading along with him. Sure, this is atypical Kirkpatrick behavior, but I can read and stay still if I wanted to. Some of his stuff he's been reading I can't even begin to comprehend but I managed to settle myself with some of the more modern political-spy thrillers that Robert reads. I honestly don't know what to do with myself when this vacation is over.
Richie, on the other hand, is a whole different kettle of dried fish. As much as JC says that he wasn't a substitute for Justin, I was further convinced that he was. Along with the similarities in the features, there were the shared traits and hobbies. The motorcycles, the brashness, the magnetic personality that attract men and women, and the almost hypnotic quality of their eyes. Heck, even their sense of humor is the same; shallow, imaginative, and witty. Just my kind of man, err, buddy. Like I say, he reminded me way too much like Justin. Just the thought gives me thoughts of incest. "BRRRR!" in a bad way.
On one time while JC went with Duncan to some gallery opening, he forced me to have some bonding period with Richie. The bastard must have planned this because Richie and I went to see the French Grand Prix. I was happy to see Michael Schumacher win and the both of us celebrated by getting drunk in the town, and joining a bar fight. Needless to say when JC said that he wanted us to get to know one another, I didn't think he wanted us drunk on our asses and acting like a bunch of idiots.
Talking with Richie was like talking with Justin only with certain degrees of differences. I had no doubt in my mind that Richie was somehow related to Justin, even if it was several times removed. The guy was around Lance's age, but Lance was never this fun. And to think that he could rival Joey when it comes to his appetite. It tried to fight it, honestly, but I'm really starting to like the guy.
* * *
JC brought me to a place called 'Le Blues Bar', which was owned by a good friend of Duncan and Adam called Joe Dawson. For an old guy, he sure could sing those melancholic Blues. Our night in the town for some drinks quickly turned into a session of storytelling by a bunch of drunks. The Valincourts were there, telling gaily about some time when Duncan and some guy named Fitzcairn were courting Gina while Robert was winning her heart. Joe joined us eventually after a rounding set of Cochrane and Porter. I took advantage of that invitation by ordering some Brandy. (Hey, I found out that was the best way to warm up after Lance gave some of the stuff the last time we were in Europe.) For the next few hours, I was blissfully buzzed and terribly hyper. JC made one look at me and decided to bring out of here and to take me on a quick tour of the city.
Since it was nearly 3 in the morning, there weren't that many places to go to in the City of Lights. Being young and rich, we managed to hire a cab for the rest of the early hours and get a bag of goodies from a nearby shop that happened to be open. Pierre, the cab driver, was kind enough to indulge our whims and drove us around the city. We went to the usual tourist-y spots like the L'Arc de Triomphe, Champs-Elysees, the River Siene, the glass pyramid of the Louvre, and the Gothic Notre Dame Cathedral. Pierre indulged us when we decided to take a quick look inside the Moulin Rouge in Montmartre and to walk down along the plaza near La Sacre Coeur. JC commented that he wanted to pass here during the daytime so he could wander around and maybe join the gathering of artists that sell their art here. On a whim, I asked Pierre where Jim Morrison's grave was and he drove us to Cimetiere du Pere-Lachaise. It took quite a while but we found the grave, missing marble head and all. We sung our respects by singing a few 'Doors' songs before headed back to the cab.
One moment, JC was laughing like the old JC that I knew before this trip to France, and then suddenly his entire body stopped, tensed, sprung in search of something. I screwed my face, wondering what's up. He grabbed my arm and dragged me to the taxi as fast as we could. I didn't understand his swift change of behavior.
As we approached the car, the slight fog ahead of us parted and revealed a tall man wearing a trench coat, much like the one JC was wearing. He tilted his hat in gesture and approached us.
"Gentlemen," the guy greeted. I could see the large scar on his cheek. From the voice, I could tell that he was English. His face may have looked passive but the hard, black eyes of the guy told me otherwise. He was looking for trouble.
"Look, we don't want any trouble," I quickly said as I backed-off.
"Oh I'm not looking for anything. I'm just wondering if the Luxemburg Gardens is a good place to meet up with someone at say, at six. You know, for a little tête-à-tête, a little banter."
I thought this one was a loony, until JC spoke up. "It's okay. It is a good place to meet up." I looked at him, incredulously. Was JC humoring the guy or what? Maybe, I was clueless or something.
"Well, good evening gentlemen." The guy's gaze gazed towards JC's steel gray eyes. "I hope to see you again." With that, the guy left with the mist. Now, I'm not so sure it was a good idea to visit this cemetery. I just felt like someone just walked over my grave. Still, I'm just glad that weirdo was gone.
* * *
On the ride back to the Valincourt Estate, JC grew more somber and distant. All my coaxing and attempts to make him respond were useless. Once we arrived, he got out of the cab and wordlessly entered the mansion, leaving me to pay Pierre. "Merci," the cab driver said before driving out of the property. I raced after JC only to hear the door to his room slam and the locks bolt.
Shit! He's in a pissy mood. He won't come out until morning for sure. That will, at least, give him some time to cool off. Maybe he would tell me what's up in the morning.
* * *
I wasn't out like a light yet when I heard the yelling from next door. I couldn't understand what they were talking about either because I was incoherent with fatigue or the walls were still thick enough to garble words. Next, I heard a door slam. Someone was leaving. With exasperation, I looked at the time. It was close to 5:30 AM. I knew I wasn't going to sleep again, unless someone came in and bop me one good, so I got up and went to investigate the mysterious door-banger.
Whoever slammed the door must have been JC or Richie. All I did was follow the noise that person was making and noted that it was coming from outside. As I exited the way from the front door, I saw a motorcycle leave from the garage. The engine noise seemed to attract someone from upstairs. I turned to see Richie coming towards me with a frantic expression.
"That idiot! I told him not to take up on that guy. Why did he listen to me?" exclaimed Richie with rising anger in his voice. He went back into the house and I realized that he was going to go after JC. I raced after him and he asked in his rush, "Chris, do you know where in the world JC would go at this time of day?"
Nothing came to mind, until that encounter with that weird, scarred guy waved in the front of my brain. Six! Luxemburg Gardens! Shit! What could be happening? I told Richie what I knew as we got to the entrances of our guestrooms. Even Superman couldn't get past the speed in which both of us got changed. Not five minutes past when we got onto Richie's motorcycle and we sped all the way back into the city.
* * *
This early in the day no decent Parisian worth his Euros would be awake, especially on a Saturday. 'Too bad,' thought JC as he turned off the ignition of the motorcycle that Richie bought for him after some really good investments that he made under the careful guidance of Methos and MacLeod. It was a gift for their first month anniversary. It took him a while to get up the courage to actually use it, but JC thought of it as a romantic, if a little inconsiderate, gesture of affection. One last glide of his hand over the seat and then JC was off to the meet his fate.
His opponent waited for him near the Medici Fountain, a symbol of the old merchant clan of the de Medicis. In the daylight, this place would be filled with people wandering about to admire the statuaries and the colorful flowerbeds, which fill the garden. Whatever the outcome of this battle, some of them will be destroyed by one of their Quickenings.
The man's name was Jordan Bennett, born of an era when Queen Victoria ruled the British Empire with her long reign. His sword was a hand-and-a-half Gothic broadsword that was common during the middle ages. It was a plain looking sword with the blade forming a narrow V connecting to a pommel bearing the seal of some coat-of-arms. Probably his own family's. He bows ceremoniously and the mêlée begins.
All at once, it was clear on the difference of their particular fighting styles. Jordan's stance was stoic and unmovable, like a brick wall. He kept on using defensive moves and deflective offenses to hit. JC forced to move on the offensive, improvising and using various attack moves to see if there was any flaw in the man's 'wall'. He knew that if something doesn't give soon, he was going to lose his head to this asshole.
* * *
Richie parked his motorcycle beside the one that he gave to JC. The moment that the engine was silenced, Chris got off the back and ran, with an equally worried Richie on his tail. Both however stopped when a sudden gust of wind blew them off their feet and forced them to land on a bed of flowers. Chris became frightened as the wind increased and lightning came out of nowhere and started obliterating the nearby statues. When all the Chaos died down, they saw one figure hunched over by the destroyed fountain beside a beheaded body.
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