Chapter 1 - The Concave Devil
October 15, 1972
Kronos stared disgustedly at the source of his addiction. He was a Horseman, dammit! Why did this obscenity, which he had purchased for his own purposes, now have a better than a decade long grip on him?
He would smash the talisman. Yes. He had slain beings, demons and gods, supposedly, that sought to turn his art into their labor. He was cruelty for cruelty's sake, personified, not their little boy. A dozen "old ones" had passed when he had smashed crystals to powder, astonishing even clever Methos with his willpower. But he couldn't smash this one. Whatever lay at the center of him wanted this, and he couldn't say no to it.
"You killed my Samantha!", he shouted out to the uncaring orb. "She's gone, and she's never coming back." With a vengeance he loved her. He knew that one day her boob of a husband and inane family would be dust at her hands, then surely she would join him, and together they would ravage all 7 continents, and dig up Atlantis for good measure. But the thing, the one creature more evil than himself, had sent his love away that year-as it had so many others, friend and foe.
One friend had been even more clever than Methos. Confining a group of fools, he confounded their efforts to escape, and they could do nothing against him. But he was dead 5 years, killed again by the monster.
The monster had him. It owned him. He was no longer a part of The Game, for his addiction was too far along to be away very much. Oh, they told him it was merely a box. But that deadly box contained whatever was left of his soul, and he meant to have that back. Whatever its condition after all, it was his. Despairing, he cried out the name of his lost friend, the cruel, devious master confiner with the simpleton's face :
"GILLIGAN!"
He stopped shouting, and saw that it was 8:30. The Brady Bunch was over, and The Partridge Family had begun. Wistfully, he watched his favorite character in action. "Oh, Danny! Stop these schemes and crush those moralizing fools! They're only holding you back! I mean, where was I in life til I killed my family?"
At times, the reality, ridiculousness and utter shame of the situation would assault Kronos. At those times, he would remember how it all began. Ironically, the purchase of his first TV set in 1961 had been for innocent, legitimate reasons. Perhaps, he thought, that had been his downfall.
Part 2 - The Horseman's Pact
August, 1961
Kronos stood over the headless body of Edward Confesori. He held up his prize, and lopped it in half, just to be sure. Kronos had hated Confesori as he truly hated few others. The idiot had managed to annoy him, and had been continually doing so-for 2000 years.
Israel, 1 A.D.
"You there-Horseman!"
Kronos looked up from his work. Herod of Judaea had paid handsomely for himself, Caspian, and Silas to slaughter every first-born male in his kingdom. Of course, he didn't need to pay them, and they were hardly restricting their craft to infant males. But Kronos liked Herod, who showed him respect, and promised to aid his search for the lost Methos. Kronos liked the cruel king so much, he was even considering letting him live, even if the man was fixated on some old prophecy about a savior. Then, the voice called again. "Hey, I'm talking to you, Kronos!"
"Come back later, boy, and I'll take your head then!"
"Oh, truly? A fine way to talk to your new brother!"
"You---are no brother of mine."
"I could be. I've heard that your Fourth is missing. I could be Death, in his place, make your band complete again."
"I admire your ambition, so when I tell you to go away and drop dead, don't take it personally, stripling!"
"I'm no more apt to simply drop dead than yourself, Clock-Keeper. And my name is not stripling, but Caius Templus. You'll regret your choice, Horsemen!"
For such a little nothing, Templus was awfully good at keeping his word. Suddenly, border guards were always informed of their coming, and their paths were well known to the armies hunting them. Bowmen started taking a lot more headshots than they were comfortable with. Then, Silas was captured and put to hard labor, the lone man in a quarry. All along the way, Kronos saw Templus waving down at him, smiling. He cursed himself for being too busy to take the scum's head when he had the chance. Caspian's abortive burning of the Library at Alexandria ended when the place collapsed on him, leaving him beneath tons of rubble on the Mediterranean floor, as the flow took him. With lost Methos still gone, the Demon's Ride was over.
The next 2000 years were no better. Kronos tried flinging it in the wilds of the German woods around 775, but a regiment sent by Charlemagne put paid to that, with Templus-now called Confessori-at the lead of the regiment hunting him. Always smiling, always out of reach. Whenever Kronos would start enjoying himself, finding a place to base his slaughter-forays from, there his foe would be, to ruin things.
In the 1880's came the final insult. Finding himself sealed inside a coffin, he remembered MacLeod killing him. Bursting out at last, he found himself on a train, in the cargo hold, mere miles from San Francisco. He jumped off, broke his neck, and then revived later on. He pulled a faded tag off his leg, and raged at what it said : 'Cadaver:Property of Edward Confessori'. Of course, the coward wasn't in San Francisco when Kronos finally got there.
In 1954, Kronos had found a small town in upstate New York. There, he found that many Immortals came to rest-it was just so out of the way. So he lay in wait there, easy challenges followed by easy victories. There, he built up his already-considerable power. On occasion, in times past, he would become a spree-killer, to alleviate the boredom, but the world was changing, so he could do this less and less often.
Then, one day, he saw his car being ticketed. Tickets he actually paid, as the fraternal nature of police meant that killing one was bad for business in the long term. But he also saw the 'Cop' start to deflate his tires. He saw his face. The alley was quite long, and Kronos knew what range to hide from so as not to be sensed til it was too late. Hurling his sword, Kronos saw the 'Cop' turn around, his heart run through. It was Confessori, obviously on the verge of beginning yet another campaign of harassment against him. Kronos pulled out his sword, then stood over the gasping trickster.
"Hmm, on 2nd thought, Edward-you do get to be Death. But-best consult with the original, first!"
Kronos hated Duncan MacLeod. But at least the younger Highlander had never annoyed him. Confessori he chopped to pieces-literally.
For all this, he was still annoyed. Once again, Confessori had used hs legendary ability to skulk and lurk to climb almost up into Kronos' face undetected. Without this lucky break, he could have ended up being taken by his least worthy enemy. He reminded himself, though, that there was no way he could have known of his foe's approach. This seemed to calm him.
His home was one that a man once used for rendezvous with his mistress. He was--gone now--and the girl was not going to report him missing. Some kill work for local corruption kept him in quiet comfort, and let alone. On his way home from the duel, he stopped into the town's TV shop. The sheep-like way some people stood in front of them was amusing to no end.
On the screens, a news announcer spoke.
"Again, state and local authorities warn that convicted killer Edward Confesori may be in this area! He is a psychotic, and known to be quite dangerous."
"Was dangerous, friend-past tense. Raised my blood pressure early and often."
The owner of the store talked to his employee.
"John, change these TV's to another station. This is the 5th day in a row that they're droning on about this killer!"
"Yes, sir! By now, anyone with a TV is probably sick of it all."
Kronos winced. He had avoided this idiot box like the plague. But it could have told him that Confessori was about. He realized that his life had nearly ended at the hands of a crafty opponent--all for lack of a Tv. Kronos looked at the owner.
"I'll take your very best--Mr. Ullman's discount."
At the mention of the political Boss's name, the owner and John quickly and nervously had a brand-new Zenith delivered free of any fee or payment to the house of Calvin Ixion.
Kronos turned the stupid thing on, and watched the news. Nothing of import. Then came the Twilight Zone- "To Serve Man". Kronos guffawed at the last line- "Its a cookbook! HA! ITS A BLOODY COOKBOOK!" From there on, his life was not his own. Slowly but surely, he was weaned off the game and into a vast wasteland.
1962
"Shut up Granny, you old hag! If Jethro wants to be a Double-Aught spy, who are you to frustrate him? Ooohh-She's getting the shotgun!"
1963
"Hello? Network? This is Calvin Ixion! Look, I don't care WHO got shot, just put 'The Fugitive' back on! Its a special Thanksgiving---hello?"
1964
"Ahh, Morticia! You me, and Lily in a threesome-things would start to happen, fast!"
1965
"Tony, Tony, Tony! Just have that blonde wonder blink Doctor Bellows and Roger Healey to hell, then find out just how tearaway those pajamas she's wearing really are!"
1966
"Prime Directive? How is anyone supposed to get anything done with that hanging over their heads?"
1967
"Bam! Pow! Slam! C'mon Old Chum! Kick Kato where it counts!"
1968
"JUST SHOVE DOCTOR SMITH OUT THE DAMNED AIRLOCK!"
1969
"Hello? Network? Yes, it is Mr. Ixion again. Listen, can't you fools count? Theirs was a five-year mission, and its only been three! Oops! Land Of The Giants is on. Gotta Go."
1970
"You tell her, Mr. Grant. I hate spunk, myself!"
1971
"Come now, Peter! Slit Buddy Hinton from ear-to-ear, then StepSister Jan will be yours! I like Jan. I like her better than Marsha. I mean, its always Marsha this, and Marsha that...."
1972
His reminiscences over, Kronos stared at the test pattern. It was 3 AM.
"I am a reaver, and a slayer. I do not need the odd comfort this box provides me. I will sleep now, and dream dreams of conquest, and savagery."
And dream he did. In his favorite dream, he climbed a water tower, gun in hand. The fools below would never know what hit them. To his shock and delight, there were four young women bathing in the water tower. But then, he recognized the nude nubiles.
"Bobbie Jo! Sammie Jo! What Are You and the others doing here?"
Unashamed, Sammie Jo stood up in the water.
"Why, Kronos. This is Petticoat Junction, after all! Now be a good boy and kill Uncle Joe for us, and we can talk."
Luckily, Uncle Joe was a-movin kind of slow, and was an easy target. Then, they all had their talk.
"Bobbie Jo---certainly can hold her breath under water, can't she?"
"Hmm-hmm. But now, it is Sammie Jo's turn--Horseman-RIDE!!!"
Kronos was wrapped up in the attention he was receiving, but looked worried.
"Is something wrong my love?"
"Well, yes. There was some addiction I was supposed to break. Something has rendered me a pathetic shell of a warrior, and...oohhh, that's it! More!"
Kronos noticed that all the love-making was occurring to the strains of the American National Anthem, but took no importance from it.
Elsewhere in the world, a sorceress saw that a talisman she had forged in the shape of a television set was glowing. It meant that she had one of them. At this, Cassandra smiled broadly.
Chapter 3 - A Reaver Lost And Found1978
"Dearest Teacher : Came To Visit You, but you weren't home. I grew quite upset. So sorry."
Cassandra had taken on two students around 550. One had been the Kabballic Sorcerer Siddig-Ben-Moshe, today known as Psychiatrist Sidney Freedman, retired Colonel, US Army. The other had been Roland Kantos. For his betrayal, she hated him almost more than she did the brutal but honest Methos. Sidney used the Voice to help people-Roland for destruction. But he hadn't needed the Voice to wreck her curiousity shop. Only one ruined item was of concern to her, though. It was forged in the shape of a TV.
Carefully, she had forged it, hoping to sap Methos' lifeforce the instant he purchased an Idiot Box. But when Tv was first active, Methos had been serving at the 8063rd MASH in South Korea. He spent several more years on the run from Renegade Watcher Colonel Sam Flagg and his cronies. This pursuit forced fellow Watcher Father Francis Mulcahy to bring Flagg up on charges, especially after Flagg's attempt on the life of Walter O'Reilly. So Methos' pursuers stopped-in 1962, fully a year after Kronos had purchased his Tv. Cassandra could not cast a Methos-specific spell in this instance, so she merely worked under the assumption that he would buy a Tv first. He did not, and so, for over 15 years, Kronos had been out of the Game, and growing weaker. She assumed that the talisman's destruction would free her intended recipient. She had underestimated both the potency of the item whose image she used, and the depths of that one's addiction.
Kronos' House
"You tell him, Richie! He IS such a Potsie!"
1979
"HOKEY-DOKE, ALEX!"
1980
"This is crap! Who shot him? WHO SHOT JR!?"
1981
"Arnold, if I were you, I'd take your brother Willis and take a pair of scissors to him, where it counts! Make him your sister Willina! Arrogant bastard! Never treats the little guy right!"
November, 1982
For 20 years, Kronos had ate, slept, and drank TV. He had become its slave, and it had a hold that might never be broken. He now even watched re-runs, in place of pursuing heads. His master's voice rang out :
"Hi, folks, I'm Michael Landon. Now, this very classic episode of Little House On The Prairie has a special extra. It's 'Doc Baker's Helper'. Now, the man who plays Doctor Adams in this episode, a great guy named Adam Pierson, is actually Doc Adams' descendant. Watch and enjoy! We'll have a little surprise afterward!"
"Unless its Harriet's execution, Michael, I don't much care! Blazes, the woman reminds me of Cassandra!"
Then, Kronos saw. He started when he heard the name Melvin Koren. Then, when the man unmasked, he truly saw. His brother was alive-or was he? That day in Minnesota was fuzzy. Being burned alive never helped his memory. To his shock, Harriet Oleson almost was executed. Then came after-show comments.
"Hello, folks. I'm Adam Pierson. Starring as my-ahem-ancestor in this episode we filmed last year was truly a special event. And I hope it was special for you, sitting at home, watching!"
It was.
"MEEEEETTHHHHHOOOOOOSSSSS!!!!!!"
Kronos got up from his easy chair and smiled. His brother was alive! Together, they could be Reavers again! As if on cue, the 21-year old TV died, its picture tube spent. Kronos, the spell broken, picked up his sword and laughed.
"Oh, NO, my foe! You don't get off that easy! You owned me, and now you paaaayyyyy...eaeeaeeaauatatigtrrgghhhhhh!!!"
Kronos had unplugged the set, but didn't realize how much stored power a TV can have. So, as he drove his sword through it, he felt a massive surge. To him, though, it was like claiming back his own Quickening. He was joyful that he would now be free-but still, he would miss dreams of Petticoat Junction-those girls knew how to hold their breath, in that water tower-especially his Bobbie Jo.
There was a juice tavern in town, frequented by Immortals. It was on Holy Ground, and owned by a Church, so juice was all that could be served. But here, associations were made, and challenges laid down. Kronos walked in with his full swagger. He heard two men talking.
"So, this jerk spares me, saying he's taken better heads than mine, and how he's 5000..."
"5000? No---way! That would make him, ya know, The Oldest-Methos! I've heard tell of him, but, still..."
A pair of powerful hands slapped the two on their shoulders. They didn't know Kronos, but he had the look that intimidated easily.
"Gentlemen, I'll find two others to challenge tonight, in exchange for a favor."
"You-You Name It!"
"Anything!"
Kronos smiled. The Bastard Was Back.
"Tell Me All About----The Oldest."
THE END