Richard Kruger Kurgan Warrior I: Growing Up

Yes this is Gen and I hope it's believable

The sequel will be finished soon, I promise. I'm just trying to get MacLeod to work along with the Kurgan and his watcher Horton, for some reason he seems unwilling, I wonder why?

Author: Lore Krajsman

demonmother@hotmail.com

Rating: PG13

Fandom: Highlander

Summary: What if Richie was adopted by the Kurgan?

Characters: Richie Ryan, The Kurgan, ...

Categorie: Alternative Universe

Richard Ryan Kurgan Warrior

By Lore Krajsman

*** 1984 Seacouver ***

Dark of the night. A dark and dangerous looking man was racing his car through the streets. The radio sent the tunes of some kind of rockmusic through the air. The man was heading for New York, a place that had gotten to be one of the immortal hotspots these days. It was near Seacouver that he made a faithfull choice. Instead of heading directly for the interstate he chose to enter Seacouver first. His car was low on gas and he was starting to feel the worse for the wear. He decided to wait a day and take a rest first.

He rode on until he got to a poverish looking motel. He looked at the building that seemed to stand on its hinges and placed his car in front of the stairway. Not caring about the parkingspaces.

Sure he could pay for something better but this felt more like home. When he got to the caretakers booth he put a wad of bills on the table. He pulled up his nose at the smell of the place, at the junk lying in the back. There were better places than this, but it would be suitable for now. The man didn't even ask for his ID when he signed his name. He looked around, scanning the place for trouble. There it was again, a kind of tinly feeling in the back of his head. Not strong enough to be an actual immortal, but a sense of presense.

My oh my.

Nothing better than a pre-immortal to get his juices running. Killing them while they were still young would prevent them from ever truly becoming a threat to him. Now where was this child.

He could barely believe his eyes when he found him.

It was no more than a kid. He couldn't be more than 9 years of age. The boy came carying a tray of coffee to the caretaker. Helping out. The Kurgan smiled. Maybe he should let him live for a few more years. Let the kid grow some muscle before taking his head.

He took a closer look at the scruffy jeans the boy wore. The color of the sweater was almost entirely gone and even the Kurgan could see that the fact the thing was a few sizes to small wasn't just a fashion statement. He ignored the pre-immortal and picked up his case, heading to his room. He could hear the man fly out against the boy over something or other and ignored the sound of a hand hitting flesh.

It wasn't his business.

*****

The Kurgan was doing a swordkata before trying out the fleeinfested bed when he could hear a short and quickly silenced scream. He stopped for a second but decided to continue nonetheless.

There it was again. A constant slapping of something on something, another scream. Something being hit again. The Dark Knight wasn't sure what to do. Part of him responded to the screaming, wanted to go out and help whatever kid that was being hurt like that. But another part didn't care. Why should he give a damn about what mortals did to one another?

Before he knew it, he was heading up to the door. With quick determined paces he went up, following the sound of the screaming. It was only two rooms away. He hesitated no longer than a few seconds before kicking in the door.

The man standing hulked over the smaller shape on the bed looked up stunned when he saw the barely dressed giant barging into his room. The Kurgans memory went back to very similar scenes of his own childhood. How his father used to beat him senseless and he knew then and there that he wouldn't let this man get away with the same crime.

The caretaker wasn't prepared. His pants were hanging half over his legs and he was to stunned to respond. The Kurgan fell in a fit of fury and started to beat him up relentlessly. The mortals sobbing and screaming went unheard to his attacker.

It was only when nothing more was left of the caretaker than a bloody mess that he looked at the boy on the bed. He could feel the soft pre-immortal Buzz hinging on his brain.The kid was shivering, trying to shy away from the invader, looking away from his fosterfathers remains.

The Kurgan took a deep breath, trying to calm himself, but the boy took just that moment to get the hell away from him. He could smell the kids fear and sense his emotions. The boy was simply terrified of him. Even more than he'd been of the man the Kurgan had just killed. The dark knight smiled when he noticed the boy had ran into a dead end.

He could kill the kid. End it now, keep things simple.

The boy stood backed up against the wall but instead of screaming he pulled up a drainpipe as if trying to defend himself. The Kurgan broke out in laughter. Did that kid really think that such a thing would scare him off. The boy no longer tried to run.

"I'm not gonna harm you."

"Yeah right." The Kurgan could hear the false bravado in the boys voice. He was still terrified but he didn't want his attacker to know.

"You don't believe me, do you?"

"Why should I. I just saw you kill someone."

"Your father."

"Martins wasn't my father. Him and his wife just had to take me in."

The Kurgan smiled at that and nodded understanding.

"So I guess this means you need a new place to stay?" He bowed down a bit.

His dark leather trousers wouldn't stain on the filth of the ground as he tried to look the boy in the eyes.

"You got any ideas?"

The Kurgan nodded and offered him his hand, after a short hesitation the kid took what he felt to be his only option and accepted the giants grip.

Part One
Chapter One

*** Cascade 1984 ***

The Kurgan stood leaning against the doorpile. The kid was on the bed, watching a roadrunner cartoon. The two of them had just ridden a couple of hours straight to get to this place. Neither had spoken more than two words on the ride over.

He stretched his sore limbs and went up to the bathroom, taking a last look at his long hair. Anyone that had seen him in the last motel would be able to recognise him. He took a knife and started cutting his hair. Not to much, he didn't want to attrack attention. Just short enough to be different. He stopped when it about reached his neck.

He pulled open his bag. There were a few things inside that he'd been carying for just this purpose. A knitted white collsweater and some dark jeans. Totally different from the punk get up he usually preferred. A muffled sound of laughter came from the room. He peeked in and saw the kid on the bed. The boy startled and went silent, he didn't seem to dare and make a sound.

The Dark Knight started laughing when the wolf ran into yet another rock. It didn't take long for the kid to laugh along. The kid, Richie as he'd found the boys name to be.

All of a sudden the boy turned to him.

"So what's going to happen to me now?" v The Kurgan thought it over. Taking the boy with him had been an act of impulse. He really had no idea on what to do with him, now that they were here.

"That depends." he finally said in a low voice. The boy didn't back down, his eyes kept asking for an answer. "What do you want?"

Richie's eyes gazed at him blankly. 'Huh' would be the best translation for it.

"The cops here in Cascade will probably help you out. Get you a new fosterhome and all."

"But ..."

The Kurgan wondered what the problem was, things weren't that hard to understand, now were they? Then it hit him. "They'll probably think you were kidnapped by bad old me. They're not all that wrong." The boy didn't seem all that thrilled by the idea. "Or ..." He took the boys face in his hands "you could come with me."

The kid looked at him. Disbelief filling his eyes. "I can?"

The Kurgan nodded and had to struggle to keep from staggering back as the boy almost flew in his arms.

Chapter Two

*** Cascade 1989 ***

Young Richard Kruger dropped his bag on the ground as soon as he came in. He poured himself a glass of soda. His dads boots stood waiting at the door, covered in mud and some brown stuff that made him shiver as he thought were it had probably come from.

The teenager didn't waste any time heading to the back of the house. His father was doing a sworddance. Richie sat entranced by his fathers actions. Up, down, right, left. The dance was beautiful in its deadly purpose. The giant moved his sword through the air as if it were nothing. Richie could see his fathers muscles as the man continued his kata. At 14 the dance still impressed him as much as it had done when he'd been a kid.

"Richie. Join me." His voice sounded hoarse as usual. The boy pulled his sweater over his head and went eagerly up to the floor. Soon they were moving in sync. It was a kata that they'd done many times before and Richie knew it by heart.

When it was over the Kurgan patted his son on the back and threw him a towel. The boy was sweating heavily and his breathing was rugged and hard, yet he didn't complain for a second. Richie smiled, happy at his fathers approval.

"So, how was English?"

"Alright, I think?" Richie felt inclined to start biting his fingernails. To bad he didn't do that kind of thing anymore.

"You think." The Kurgans face stood stern.

Richie tried to excuse himself. "They made us analyse Byrons poems dad. How was I supposed to be interested in that kind of romantic nonsense. I mean ... really. What does an old dead guy like that have to do with me?"

"Byron? That old fag?"

"You knew him?" Richie immediately turned his eyes up to his dad.

"I've met the git. He ran as soon as he sensed me. I was too involved with a set of women and a mug of beer to go chasing after him."

Richie stared at him openmouthed. "Byron was an immortal?"

His father just grinned and turned away.

"Wow."

Richie quickly headed for the shower, when he came out his father threw him a towel for his hair. While the boy was drying up he quickly threw the Kurgan another question.

"Uh dad ..."

"Yes Richie."

"Was Shakespeare immortal?"

"Why?"

"Just wondering."

The semi-innocent grin on the kids face was enough to get the Kurgan break out in the kind of laughter that buldered through the entire house.

********

Richie was still smiling when he started his homework. He went over the poems and tried to think of the poet as someone capable of cutting someones head of. He attached the sheet with the poem on a big board that took up most of the west wall, then while loudly going of verse by verse he started throwing some of his knifes at the darboard that was hanging on the center of the wall. Every verse ended with a knife thrown at the board.

The poor thing was almost ruined. It was made for small darts, not for knives. Richie started a game of trying to score the amount of points per verse as there were stanzes in the line. Pretty soon he got it.

Meanwhile the Kurgan was watching the news downstairs. His feet benched on the table in the livingroom. He sipped his beer and enjoyed the loud music. A infringing ringing started shelling through all the other noise and the Kurgan got up for the phone. He quickly turned his music down.

"Noon tomorow the park"

The voice was quick and to the point. He liked that. No nonsense, no vengeance, just plain and simple lust for the kill. His sword was lying on the table. "Soon pretty one, soon."

Chapter Three

*** Cascade to Seacouver 1990 ***

Richie grumbled under his mouth while packing his bags. They were moving again. The police had found one of the bodies his dad left behind him. It plainly sucked. Just because his dad had to keep fighting those idiots he had to leave all his friends behind.

They'd met the man two months ago. Some guy called Martin Hyde. The Kurgan had met him before but the idiot had finally found the courage to face an ancient like the Kurgan. He had tried to stall the fight. Hyde was under Loki's protection after all, but the bastard just refused to leave him alone. Even going as far as threatening Richie to get the Kurgan to fight. Apparantly Loki's lesson had begun to fade. In exchange the dark knight easily dispatched him. But try and explain that to a teenager. The Kurgan knew he couldn't just ignore another immortal. They were to dangerous for that.

And now they were both packing, ready to leave Cascade.

He had considered moving to Toronto, but had finally settled on heading back to Seacouver. Enough time had passed and the city was big enough to disappear in. He could almost feel the taste of the Quickening hanging over that city to reach his tongue. The sensation of power each time he gained anothers essence.

*******

Richie on the other hand did't understand things. He hated it. Who did he know in Seacover? He hadn't been there since he was 9.

The boy made sure to pack his entire musiccollection. He'd been saving up on it for years. His knives were next, most of those were birthdaygifts for his dad. He pulled his shirt straight and fastened his combatboots. His brown leather vest went over that.

Hanging over the window he yelled down at his dad. The Kurgan didn't respond.

"Should I pack the sword with the luggage or as handbagage."

Some of the neigbours were looking at them with something strangely resembling relief in their eyes. Several of them looked up at the boys question.

"Luggage." The Kurgan yelled dead pan. He gave mrs Thompson the way to curious lady from next door a last luscious grin, nearly making the woman faint by doing so.

In the car the teenager took out his Gameboy and started playing. He could see the music was annoying his dad but simply refused to put it down. In response his dad turned the radio to something classical. Richie almost lost it when the big Kurgan started humming along with Verdi. Richie accepted the challenge and increased the Gameboys volume. Plugging in his own set of loud speakers. Not to much though. The thing had its limits. No need to give to much to soon.

People from the cars next to them gave them odd glances as a loud playing of the Four Seasons boomed through the loudspeakers.

After a few more changes in volume Richie had to surrender. The Gameboy just couldn't get high enough to come over the radio's music.

As soon as Richie turned down his noise, his father returned the station to hardrock, leaving a gasp of relief. "Finally." he let out.

Richie couldn't help laughing at that, his fathers choice in music was even louder than his own. It didn't take long for the Kurgans loud laughter to bulder along with his sons.

Chapter Four

*** Seacouver 1994 ***

Richie was careful to keep his bag close to his body as he hurried through the crowded university halls. He noticed one of the teachers giving him a strange look. Was he supposed to know the guy?

"Hey Angie. Who's the weirdo with the ponytail?"

"Mister MacLeod. He's teaching the antique weaponry course. Remember."

That sure got the teenagers attention.

"Now why haven't I heard of that one before?"

"Probably because you were flirting with Liz all through introductory."

"Well how was I to know there'd be a class on weaponry."Richie pouted. "If I'd known I would have signed up."

"You still might if you're fast. Seats for that class disapear faster than blood at a vampire convention."

"Oh. Is it that good?"

"You didn't happen to catch a good eye of that teacher did you?" Richie flashed her a smile.

"A class filled with girls and dealing with weaponry, now I really have to get in. That, I think I can stay awake through.

Angie snorted and turned away.

*******

The Kurgan looked up when he arrived at the University. Sure Richie had asked, no begged him, not to show up. But after all that, how could he resist? He gently tapped on his Harley before leaving it behind on a handicapped zone. He was fully dressed in black leather, his muscled arms showing fully through his vests lack of sleeves. His long black hair was tied up in a knot at the back of his head, the scar on his neck was prominently displayed by a use of piercings around the scartissue.

The smirk on his face sent anyone in his way running for cover, trying to get out of his sight. He stopped in his tracks when the sensation of another immortal hit his brain.

One that was strong, but relatively young. He grinned ferociously, anticipating the sensation of the others Quickening coursing through him.

Then he noticed him.

A tall darkhaired man. Not as long as himself though. Oh yes, that one would be interesting. Then he noticed the kid next to the man. Richie. What was the boy doing with another immortal. He almost forgot that his son could impossibly know that the man he was dealing with was an immortal. At least until he noticed the mans reaction and the way his father was coming at them.

The Kurgan came just in time to hear his sons muttered words.

"Oh great, I finally find a class I really like and now this has to happen."

The Kurgan considered the man. One of the teachers here.

Oh well he could wait a few years.

"Gerald Kruger." He said in a near whisper of a voice. "Richards father."

"Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod."

"Any connection to Connor?"

"Why? Do you know Connor?"

"I gave him his first death."

"Kurgan."

The Highlander looked once more at the man in front of him, recognising the man for what he was. The Kurgan grinned. Why not letting the boy before him shiver a bit.

Then he lifted his hands.

"Don't worry Rich. I won't take his head as long as you're still taking his classes."

Both could see the kid release a sigh of relief.

"Thanks dad. I really didn't feel like taking up homecookery just to get a full schedual."

END