AOH :: HIGHLAND.TXT|
Peter Bellwood & Larry Ferguson
February 6, 1985
MADISON SQUARE GARDEN
New York Rangers v. Edmonton Oilers.
15,000 screaming fans leap to their feet.
Gretsky steals the puck, streaks across the ice, beats two
defenders, shoots and scores.
Oilers 6, Rangers 0. Oiler fans bellow approval
One silent SPECTATOR, in overcoat, slacks and scarf, stands
out in the crowd, unmoved by the din. He is:
An aura of power and charisma sets him apart. His hypnotic
eyes watch Ranger defenders slam Gretsky into the wall,
punching and kicking him.
SHOUTING PLAYERS storm onto the ice
STICKS SWING IN A BRUTAL FREE-FOR-ALL.
The crowd CHEERS. A DRUNK WHOOPS at the silent man.
Helluva fight, ain'it? Helluva fight.
Lotta fun, ain'it?
Oblivious, Macleod watches the battle. In his mind,
the STICK-WIELDING PLAYERS BECOME:
15TH CENTURY HIGHLANDERS WIELDING BROADSWORDS
CLASHING in battle. Mountains tower over rocks and heather.
WHINNYING HORSES, agonized CRIES, RINGING steel, SKIRLING
Let's go belt somebody, then i buy
you a drink. Whaddya say?
HOCKEY STICKS CLASHING IN MADISON SQUARE GARDEN
in the riot on the ice.
Concentrating, MacLeod scans the crowd. Like a predator
catching a scent, he leaves swiftly. The Drunk yells after
Hey! Where ya goin'?
striding past rows of cars. FOOTSTEPS ECHOING in the Garden's
underground garage. MacLeod senses a presence. It's very
Suddenly, a MAN's silhouette appears in a tunnel, blocking
his path, breath steaming in the artic air.
A huge sword appears in the Man's hands. He swings. MacLeod
sidesteps, drawing a weapon from inside his coat.
A Samurai sword, carved handguard, razor-sharp,
The Man's overhead slams onto concrete, ripping up hunks of
stone. MacLeod fans his blade.
MACLEOD AND THE MAN"S SWORDS
clang in the tunnel, pulverizing cars, gouging columns in
showers of brilliant sparks.
Running Feet, Shouting VOICES, distant SIRENS.
His opponent is outmatched. Surging forward:
cuts off the Man's head. A shimmering energy surges between
the corpse and MacLeod. MacLeod starts to glow. The garage
is crackling. Windshields EXPLODE. SIRENS closer.
Over here -- !
Samurai sword in hand, MacLeod sprints off, swallowed by the
dark. People SHOUT.
racing through the garage. Behind him, a woman screams.
Desperate, he hides his weapon in a roof duct hidden by
tiles, driving it out of sight.
In the arena above, New York scores. The CROWD CHEERS.
The SOUND DISTORTS, becoming --
CHEERING VILLAGERS LINING A ROAD
Loch Shiel, Scottish Highlands, 1536. Glamis castle
towers over thatched huts by the shore.
A DRAWBRIDGE CRASHES down like thunder, skirling BAG-
PIPES and DRUMS.
THE CLAN MACLEOD
Two hundred strong, rides out to battle, tartan cloaks,
bronze shields, claymores flashing in the sun.
Hatchet-faced FATHER RAINEY chants prayers.
God bless our brave heroes. May
this year of Our Lord 1536 bring
victory to the Clan Macleod.
Death and damnation to the
Fraziers! Long live the Clan
Riding in the column:
The ice hockey spectator, 466 years earlier. The same age
but rough-hewn, not yet possessing the quiet strength of
later years. Eyes alight, huge claymore sword strapped to
Carved into the blade, the single word:
Riding with him, two older clansmen: DUGAL, his
cousin, short, arms like trees, and ANGUS, bulky and
bearded. Dugal shouts over the din.
Are you scared, Conner?
No, cousin Dugal. I'm not.
Don't talk rubbish, lad. I peed
my kilt the first time I rode to
Ah, Angus pees his kilt all the
MacLeod laughs, hiding his nervousness.
A pretty girl, KATE, races down the column holding high
MacLeod sweeps her up. She plants the flowers in his
hat. She jumps down excitedly.
A girl like that can wound a
soldier more than a Frazier's
sword, my friend.
Angus, you and Dugal bring him
back in one piece. D'you hear?
We know which piece you want,
Yell from Angus. DRUMS and BAGPIPES.
standing on a hill, watching the Clan MacLeod advance
into the gathering moorish fog below.
The Kurgan is a frightening hulk astride a massive
black stallion. Flashing eyes and a cruel mouth.
Frazier chief MURDOCH gallops up.
Is the one called Conner among
Remember our pact. The boy is
Murdoch nods. He fears this giant.
can be heard the BATTLE CRIES and frenzied BAGPIPES of
the MacLeod and Frazier clans.
It's begun. Death to the MacLeods!
THE BATTLE OF LOCH SHIEL, 1536
MacLeods and Frazers collide in fury. Raging carnage.
Fog slowly moving in.
MacLeod, Dugal and Angus in the thick of it. MacLeod
tries to engage the enemy. Each time they avoid him.
Dugal's helpless beneath three Frazers. Flying from
the saddle, Angus kills two of them. The third bolts.
Gradually, the fog makes it impossible to see more than
a few yards. Each man's battle is his own, hopelessly
separated from the battling clansmen around them.
Wild-eyed, MacLeod leaps off his horse, hauling Dugal up.
Nobody will fight me! They all
Great, laddie. Stay by me.
Suddenly, they see:
A HULKING GIANT ON A BLACK STALLION
thundering down on them, sword wheeling, an unstoppable
juggernaut, butchering everything in his path.
It's the Kurgan
Mother of God -- !
He feels dizzy. The Kurgan knocks Dugal senseless,
disintegrating MacLeod's shield.
Snarling, he vaults from his horse, driving his blade
deep into MacLeod's stomach.
Mortally wounded, MacLeod drops to his knees, vainly
swinging at the ghastly specter. The Kurgan swats away
his sword as though it were a toothpick.
Relishing the moment, he raises his blade high, voice
grating in triumph
There can be only one.
MacLeod is helpless. Time hangs suspended. Lost in
the blackness of the Kurgan's eyes, he prepares to meet
At the last second, Dugal, Angus and others appear,
pile-driving the Kurgan back over dying clansmen.
Another time, Highlander.
Life ebbing, MacLeod groans, staring at the sky.
SCREECHING to a halt outside the Garden, SIRENS DYING,
the exit tunnel. Cops pile out, guns drawn, GARFIELD and
HAGGERTY in charge.
Headlights appear. A BMW crests the ramp at 60, sees the
SQUEALS to a smoking stop. Cops take aim.
Get out of the car! Put your hands
on the hood.
Move -- !
MacLeod obeys. They frisk him. Garfield finds a wallet,
MacLeod's photo, name and address:
RUSSELL EDWIN NASH
1182 HUDSON STREET
NEW YORK, NY 10013
Garfield shines a light in the suspect's eyes. They seem
Where you going in such a hurry,
Garfield grabs his arm. trying to handcuff him. Bad idea.
MacLeod hurls him away. Garfield falls on his ass.
A ton of cops swamp MacLeod, slamming his face into the wind-
shield. Enraged, Garfield staggers up, jamming his .45 into
Don't move, asshole. Don't even
Another cruiser arrives. It's DYING SIREN becomes --
A LONE PIPER ON GLAMIS CASTLE TURRET
His mournful LAMENT rising to the stars bove
breathing his last on a trestle bed in a hut, torso bandaged.
Fire crackles in a hearth. Kate kneels by the bed. Battle-
scarred, Dugal and Angus stand by.
In nomine patri, et fili et spiritus
It is over. Other men are dying this
day. I must attend them.
Kate collapses, weeping. Dugal and Angus drag her away.
He's a Highlander, by God. The
last sound he hears shall not be a wailing woman.
They leave. Flickering shadows. MacLeod's ;abored
breathing slowly fades.
LIEUTENANT FRANK MORAN, HOMICIDE
In the garage under the Garden, breathing hard. Bulky,
in raincoat and hat, six months to pension. With him:
DETECTIVE WALTER BEDSOE
Honest, tough, not a million miles deep.
At their feet, the Man's torso. Further away, the
head. TV crews jostle under lights. Fans shout behind
barricades -- when can they get their goddamn cars?
Forensics, sexy in jeans, boots and windbreaker, shoves
through the crowd, ducking the barrier. She carries
bags of equipment.
JACK LEBOWSKY, Coroner's office, wild hair, pasty-
faced, takes flash shots, unfazed by the grisly scene.
Brenda joins Moran.
Damn it, Frank. Forensics is
supposed to be notified the same
time as Homicide.
What a mess.
This one came unassembled.
Did you make an arrest?
Yeah. An antique dealer named
Nash on Hudson Street.
She moves away:
Frowning, she examines a row of cars, confounded by the
blitzed windshields. What the hell happened?
BESIDE THE BODY
Lebowsky takes final shots, winking at Bedsoe.
How come you're not asking me the
cause of death, Frank?
Cut the crap, Lebowsky. What time
did he buy it?
Lebowsky kneels, examining the corpse, checking his watch.
Ten. Ten-thirty. And whatever
made this cut was razor-sharp.
(to Moran, indicating
Frank, wasn't there something on
the teletype about a guy killed
in Jersey 2 nights ago, just like
Moran scratches his head.
BEHIND THE CORVETTE
Brenda freezes, staring down at a huge sword.
Hey, Frank. Look at this.
Moran and Lebowsky join her.
It's a Toledo-Salamanca.
It's a what -- ?
She dusts the jeweled hilt for prints.
A sword, Frank. A very rare sword.
Only about a million bucks.
Any antique dealer with a shop on
Hudson Street could tell you that.
sitting in a room, waiting. Peeling paint, tape
recorder, table and chairs.
Garfield, the cop who booked him, leans on the wall,
itching to get even.
MacLeod suddenly stares at him. Garfield shivers. The
guy's eyes are like lasers. The cop looks away.
MORAN AND BEDSOE
enter, slamming the door. Moran's got a package and
folder. Bedsoe joins Garfield against the wall.
Moran sits down, package by his chair. He clicks on
the tape and opens a folder.
Inside: wallet, money and driver's license issued to
He tosses a mug-shot of a swarthy man onto the table.
Ever see this guy before, Nash?
Name's Osta Vazilek. Bulgarian
national. Got his head chopped
off two nights ago in Jersey.
Ever get over to Jersey, Nash?
Not if I can help it.
You're an antique dealer, right?
Moran lays down the jewelled weapon.
Okay, what's this?
It's a --
Worth a million bucks.
You wanna hear a theory?
You went down to the garage to buy
this sword from some guy.
What was his name?
I don't know. You tell me.
His name was Iman Fasil. You fought
about the price. Then you cut off
Wanna hear another theory?
This Fasil was so upset by the
Rangers' lousy performance tonight,
he went down to the garage and in a
fit of depression, cut off his own
That ain't funny, Walt
Garfield can control himself no longer.
You a faggot, Nash?
Why? You cruising for ass?
I'll tell you what happened,
Russell -- you went down to the
garage looking for a hand-job,
and just didn't want to pay for
Garfield swings. Kicking the table aside, MacLeod jumps
up, SMASHING his fist into Garfield's sternum. Garfield
Moran's on Garfield in a flash, knee on his chest,
Bedsoe struggles to restrain MacLeod.
Calm down -- !
I mean it, damnit -- !
Flinging Bedsoe off him, MacLeod picks up his wallet.
Am I under arrest?
Then we're through.
He walks to the door.
Nash, we're just getting started.
MacLeod is gone. Moran stands up. Garfield struggles
to his feet.
Jesus. That guy hits like a
Shut up, Rocky. I'll deal with
you in a minute.
He turns to Bedsoe
Tail him, Walt. And try and pay
attention. That sucker's cool as ice.
Bedsoe leaves. Moran turns to Garfield
EXT. POLICE STATION - NIGHT
MacLeod steps out into the crisp night air.
Oblivious to traffic, his eyes scan the dark. Sensing
something, he turns south, looking toward Jersey.
A TAN CUTLASS ON THE NEW JERSEY TURNPIKE
Knifing through the night. Inside, behind the wheel:
THE KURGAN - A CHILLING SPECTER
Shark's eyes, short curly hair.
Like MacLeod, he hasn't aged -- but a hideous scar runs
from ear-to ear across his throat. It affects his voice,
turning it into a metallic gurgle. News on the RADIO.
Police arrested a man at the
decapitation scene in Madison
Square Garden. They have not
released his name.
(turns it off)
I know his name.
His metallic gargle is even more grating.
He slams a cassette into the stereo, a high-decibel
heavy-metal ROCK SONG: It's the Kurgan's anthem.
Raving singer, pounding drums, shrieking guitars. In
the headlights, a sign:
YOU ARE NOW LEAVING NEW JERSEY
THE GARDEN STATE
HOPE YOU ENJOYED YOUR STAY!
The Kurgan smiles grotesquely.
I had a better time than Osta
Vazilek. That is for sure.
His voice sounds like nails on a slate.
sitting at a spectrograph, placing metal shards under
a lens. Clamping wires to them, she starts a machine.
HUMMING sound. Crackling arc. She checks a computer,
takes photos. The arc dies.
She waits. A printer starts. Data rolls. She studies
It's not possible.
Incredulous, she runs the test again. Same result.
Grabbing coat and bag, she heads for the door.
following MacLeod along Central Park South, down Broad-
way to Times Square.
Hungry and tired, Bedsoe trudges past bums, porno-pits
and neon signs.
MacLeod descends stairs to a subway. Picking up speed:
races down after him. Reaching the tracks, he can't
believe his eyes.
The platform's deserted.
driving her red Pontiac, turning south on 5th Avenue.
Late-night traffic. Lionel Ritchie on the RADIO.
She turns west, arriving at Madison Square Garden.
Parking on the street, she gets out, carrying a bag.
walking through the garage, flashlight piercing the murk.
She shivers, heading for where Fasil was killed.
MACLEOD'S FACE IN THE FLARE OF THE LIGHTER
In the underground garage. Reaching into the roof-duct
hidden by tiles, he pulls out his Samurai sword.
Noting the chipped edge and missing pieces, he slides
it into a sheath inside his coat.
FOOTSTEPS. He snuffs the lighter
Guiding a metal-detector across the floor. Chalk out-
lines where Fasil's corpse used to be. Near a column,
a red light blinks on her detector.
Cradling the flash, she removes SHARDS with a scalpel,
dropping them into a plastic bag.
hidden in shadows.
hears a distant CLANK. She whirls her flashlight up the
Silence. Something's down here. She can feel it.
Trying to control her panic, she heads for the exit. She
starts running, faster and faster.
trying to unlock her Pontiac. Heart racing, she drops her
Retrieving them, she opens the door and ROARS off.
entering P.J. Clarke's. Almost empty. It's late.
She takes a corner table, trying to calm down. PHIL,
the waiter, appears.
Hi, Brenda. What can I get you?
Vodka. Lots of it.
Removing the plastic bag from her purse, she opens it,
tipping a metal shard into her trembling hand.
enters and looks around. Spotting her, he sits in a
nearby booth. Phil re-appears with a bottle of vodka.
She drinks. Noticing MacLeod, Phil glides over, return-
ing to Brenda
The guy over there wants you to
join him for a drink.
Leaning forward, she sees a dim profile.
Thank him and tell him no.
Phil delivers the message. Brenda gulps vodka, mind in
Suddenly, MacLeod sits by her side. She jumps like a cat.
What do you think you're doing?
Joining you. I'd like to buy you
Brenda drains her vodka, setting down the glass.
I don't drink
About to tell him to get lost, she looks into his eyes for
the first time. Unexpectedly, she's overcome by feelings
of warmth and safety.
What's your name?
His voice caresses her. She's mesmerized by his gaze.
Adrift, she hears herself answer.
The silence between them is electric. Phil RINGS the
register. The spell is broken.
She's got to get away from this guy. Shouldering her bag,
she rises, heading for the door. He doesn't move.
Do you get over to Madison Square
She freezes, heart pounding.
What did you say?
Madison Square Garden. Get over
Eyes that were comforting 10 seconds ago are now cold,
drilling into her brain.
They've got basketball.
The circus. Ice-hockey.
What's your last name, Brenda?
She swallows hard.
How come you're asking me
about Madison Square Garden?
Did you follow me in here?
No answer. He smiles. Her blood turns to ice.
Who the hell are you?
Let me walk you home, Brenda.
Pretty girl, alone on the
streets at night. No telling
what could happen.
Forget it. I can take care
He shrugs, sitting down. She walks out, pausing to look back
in the gloom. He raises his glass to her.
OUTSIDE THE BAR
Brenda waits in shadows, watching MacLeod leave. He stands
for a moment, looking up and down 55th Street.
Pulling up his collar, he moves off into the night, turning
down a dark alley.
Making a fateful decision, she follows him.
walking briskly near the East River. Cold wind blowing. 4:00
Steam rises from vents. Cars line the curb. Cats YOWL. It's
Hearing FOOTSTEPS, he stops every few yards.
At the corner of 46th, his eyes rake the street. Nothing.
warning, he sprints off, disappearing into:
A SHADOWY CONSTRUCTION SITE
RUNNING FOOTSTEPS. He grasps the Samurai hilt inside his
A FIGURE hurtles round the corner. Springing forward, MacLeod
grabs handfuls of hair.
SHOUTING in panic, Brenda fights to get free.
Get your hands off me!
Pumping with adrenalin, MacLeod shakes her, pulling her into
dark, against a brick wall. She SCREAMS.
A light goes on in a nearby apartment.
Be quiet. I --
He breaks off, listening to the night, eyes flashing.
MacLeod ducks, yanking her with him to the dirt.
A GLEAMING SWORD SHATTERS BRICK
inches above their heads. He rolls away from her, struggling
avoid a slashing blade. Dumbstruck, Brenda stares up at:
A HOWLING GIANT WITH A SCAR ACROSS HIS NECK
wielding a huge sword. It's the Kurgan.
MacLeod grabs a steel pipe, blocking the Kurgan's murderous
blows. The Kurgan's so fast, MacLeod can't draw his sword.
In desperation, he side-steps and charges, tackling him.
Locked together, they topple down an embankment into:
A SHALLOW PIT
Untangling himself, sword in hand, the Kurgan attacks.
defends himself with the pipe.
Good to see you again, MacLeod.
400 years is a long time.
You slimy bastard --!
SOUNDS of DISTANT SIRENS.
UP THE EMBANKMENT
Brenda peers through the murk. Straining to see what's going
she loses her footing. CRYING OUT, she falls:
INTO THE PIT
Cannoning into MacLeod's back.
Get the hell out of here!
Bellowing, the giant charges again. MacLeod shoves Brenda out
the path of sudden death.
There can only be one, Highlander.
The 2 men battle through the skeleton of a building. The
murderous blade misses MacLeod by inches, slicing through
The sky ERUPTS. THRASHING ROTORS. ROARING down-blast.
Blinding clouds of dirt and debris.
IT'S A POLICE CHOPPER
Searchlight beams probe swirling dust. From the sky, an
You, on the ground! Stay where you
Brenda CHOKES, blinded. From nowhere, MacLeod grabs her.
His arms are like steel.
(SHOUTING out of
Some other time, Highlander.
There can be only one.
MacLeod hauls Brenda up the embankment, away from the
light, melting into the dark. SIRENS CLOSER.
dragging Brenda across 1st Avenue.
Stop. For Christ's sake.
They halt under a street-light. She gasps for breath.
Who in the name of God was that?
He called you Highlander. What
did he mean, "There can be only
one?" Only one what?
He pulls her close, eyes like bullet-holes.
Listen, lady. You almost got
I want --
He shakes her, trying to scare her away.
Don't you ever follow me again
Forget about what you saw tonight.
You only have one life. If you
value it --
He strides off. A garbage can CRASHES in an alley.
KENNY, A DESK CLERK
signing in the Kurgan. Ansonia Hotel, 73rd and Broadway.
A T.V. is on Derelicts litter the lobby.
KENNY, a chain-smoking greaser, checks the name the
Kurgan's written in the register, handing him a key.
Okay, Mr. Victor Kruger. Room 315.
And I'm gonna hit you for 20 in
The Kurgan pulls out a thick roll of bills, dropping a
20. Kenny eyes the roll greedily.
Listen, you want anything. Broads,
blow. Just dial 0.
Picking up a black, oblong case, the Kurgan heads for the
on a sagging bed in Room 315. Roaches crawl on a hot-
Shirtless, heavily-scarred, he munches tacos, watching
Yosemite Sam on T.V., digging the violence.
He opens his black case. Laid out in velvet slots:
THE COMPONENTS OF A LARGE SWORD
Meaty fingers caress quillions, pommel, hilt and blade.
Getting up, he moves to the window. Below, junkies
shiver in Needle Park.
At last... the Gathering.
He chuckles, an unnerving sound. KNOCK on the door.
A blonde HOOKER in hot-pants and boots, breasts burst-
ing from a tight sweater, leans on the jamb, cracking
Of course you are.
Dragging her in, he flings her on the bed. Fearfully,
she watches him unbuckle his belt. He slams the door.
slamming down a tankard of ale in the Glamis tavern.
Angus and Kate sit with him.
It's 1536, the day after the fight between the Frazers
Angry villagers pack the place, only one thing on their
minds -- MacLeod's strange delivery from the jaws of
Kate's thrilled by all the excitement.
You saw the wound, Angus. He should
I say he's got the devil in him.
The tavern erupts in shouting
MacLeod enters. Sudden silence. Seeing Angus, he moves
to join his table.
Drinking with us, are you?
MacLeod freezes. Kate's eyes sparkle. Angus avoids
What's the matter, Dugal?
You. Talking and breathing -- and
this morning, all but a corpse.
How did you manage that, Conner
Would you rather I was dead?
It's not natural. He's in league
Don't say that, Kate.
I'll say it. You've got the devil
We've been kinsmen 15 years, cousin.
Conner MacLeod was my kinsman. I
don't know who you are.
Kate's eyes dance. The tension is electric
You'd best leave, Conner.
I'm not going anywhere.
Dugal swings at MacLeod's head, knocking him down,
kicking him in the ribs.
A plowman destroys a chair on MacLeod's back. Angus
shouts over the din --
For God's sake, stop -- !
A villager belts MacLeod with a jug. Struggling, he
disappears under a shouting heap of clansmen.
MACLEOD WITH AN OX-YOKE STRAPPED TO HIS BACK
Arms bound to it with ropes, face battered, on his
knees in the dirt.
Beyond, Glamis Castle towers over Loch Shiel.
Dugal, Angus, Father Rainey and Kate stand in a circle
of yelling villagers. The excitement has unhinged
(yelling at Dugal)
He's your cousin, man.
Burn him. It's the only way.
Burn him! Burn him!
The NOISE subsides.
There'll be no burning here today.
We'll banish him.
Burn him! Burn him!
Dugal's disgusted by Kate's religious frenzy.
Be quiet, Kate.
The villagers shout objections. He nods to Angus and
they help MacLeod to his feet. He staggers under the
Can you walk?
I'll bloody well walk out of here.
Move, friend. Before they change
I'll not forget you, Angus.
MacLeod is driven out. Villagers spit and curse.
Wild-eyed, Kate dances round him.
Devil! Devil! Devil!
Devil! Devil! Devil!
Stumbling along the loch, MacLeod heads for the moun-
walking west on Christopher. Dim streetlights. Dogs
MACLEOD'S HOME - 1182 HUDSON STREET, SOHO
Surrounded by Irish bars, art galleries, rubble-filled
MacLeod heads for a run-down shop next to a dilapidated
ten-story glass-and-iron warehouse.
On the shop door:
R. NASH -- ANTIQUES
Rummaging for keys, he unlocks the door and goes in-
MACLEOD IN A RISING FREIGHT ELEVATOR
The doors open. Before him:
A HUGE, OPEN, NEW YORK LOFT
The change from drab outside to sumptuous inside is
stunning. Exotic fish swim in a huge aquarium.
MacLeod descends the stairs to:
A SUNKEN LIVING ROOM
filled with modern art. High veilings, comfortable
sofas, Adam fireplace, spectacular views of the river.
Moving past speakers and TVs, he drops his keys on a
table beside an intercom and answering machine.
In a silver frame on the mantle: a photo of MacLeod
with a young girl, 1952. MacLeod moves through:
A GEORGIAN DINING AREA
Queen Anne table, silver candlesticks, tapestries on
the wall. He enters:
AN ULTRA-MODERN KITCHEN
Loosening his tie, he fixes a drink and walks out.
entering his silver room. Elegant and oval. Fabric
walls. Sofas, tables, displays of ancient artifacts:
On one wall, like spokes of a wheel: 13 broad swords.
Beside them, a bronze shield, claymore and cloak -- the
black-and-yellow tartan of the Clan MacLeod.
Sipping his drink, he sinks into a sofa, eyeing a glass
case lit by pin-spots. Inside:
An ancient sheepskin doll.
A 16th century catalan feathered hat.
A rusty anvil and tongs.
MacLeod stares at the anvil and tons, remembering:
RED-HOT IRON IN TONGS
crashing onto an anvil in a sweltering blacksmith's
forge. It's 1541.
Wielding a hammer, streaked with grime and sweat,
MacLeod pounds out a horsehoe, plunging it into water.
In the five years since his banishment, he's filled out
-- although he's lost none of his wide-eyed, youthful
shoeing a mare outside. The forge clings to a crag.
Miles down a precarious trail, the town of Jedburgh.
Up the hill, a 3-story stone house. From the house:
appears in sheepskins, bonnet and boots, carrying a
Full-breasted, lusty and apple-cheeked, she feeds
geese, watching him.
Pie and ale. D'you want it?
Dropping his hammer, he grabs her buttocks, crushing
her to him, grinning.
All the time.
You filthy sod. You're all muck
Aye. The way you like it.
He grins, kissing her. Stripping his apron, he dunks
his torso in a rain barrel, shaking himself off like a
She smiles. He's the loveliest man in the world.
MACLEOD AND HEATHER
making love on the cliff-top in the grass. Remains of
Thunderheads soar over the mountains. A storm is com-
ing. MacLeod kisses her. She responds
You can do that forever if you
like, my lord. Will you, Conner?
Aye, blossom. I will.
Foreign CURSES. Startled, they sit up.
climbing the trail to the forge. Olive skin, hawk
nose, twinkling eyes, flashing teeth. Flintlock pistol
in his belt, crossbow across his back.
Strapped to his side, a Samurai sword, carved hand-
guard, razor-sharp, feather-light.
Overheated in cloak, pantaloons, feathers and gloves,
he clambers higher, swooning with fatigue.
Dragging himself to the top, he mops his brow.
Seeing the peasant couple before him, he bows, hat
sweeping the ground.
Greetings! I am Juan Sanchez
Villa-Lobos Ramirez, Chief
Metallurgist to King Philip II of
At your service.
Who -- ?
Ramirez sees stars, looking down the trail.
My God, man. That's a climb!
Breathless, he replaces his hat, adjusting frills and
What do you want?
Maybe you've found him.
The same Conner MacLeod wounded in
battle and driven from his village
five years ago?
The Spaniard narrows his eyes. Something seems to
seize MacLeod. He clutches his chest, unable to
beathe. Heather's alarmed.
Heather, go in the house.
Do as I say, woman
She backs up the hill and goes inside.
Ramirez flashes wall-to-wall teeth. THUNDER reverber-
ates down the valley.
A beautiful young woman. Is she your
MacLeod's temples are in a vise. Ramirez opens his
A SCAR FROM NECK TO HIP
with elegant finger.
When I was young, a cart ran over
me. I should have died. But the
wound healed by itself.
Stars explode inside MacLeod's head. The forge, the
house, everything's spinning.
The sensations you feel. It is
THUNDER CRACKS overhead. The storm breaks. HOWLING
WIND. Ramirez's eyes blaze with unearthly light.
Who are you?
We are the same, MacLeod. We are
Lightning etches their silhouettes against the rolling
moving through a squad-room toward:
Moran on the phone, at his desk. Walls plastered with
mug-shots. Steam pipes HISS & BANG.
Seeing Brenda, he waves her to a seat with the receiver.
SHOUTING on the line.
Listen, pal. My advice is, get
a bigger one next time. One
that'll bite him.
He slams down the phone, eyeing Brenda.
Here's what I'm dealing with.
Guy calls up Homicide. Wants to
swear out a complaint. His Viet-
namese neighbor ate his dog.
How are things in Forensics?
Dull. Come on. let's have lunch.
Moran likes it. He puts on his coat. Thay head for the
door. Brenda stops.
Frank, I left my purse. Go ahead.
I'll catch you by the elevator.
Moran leaves. Brenda returns to the desk, opens a drawer,
and finds what she's looking for:
A bound, blue folder containing photos of Fasil's body, the
sword, a copy of an interrogation report -- and:
It's the guy from the bar who fought the scarred giant.
I'll be damned. Russell Nash.
She stares at the picture. Even in the harsh photo-flash,
his face is compelling. The eyes, haunting, evoking time-
Moran's phone RINGS. She jumps.
Glancing around, she jots down Nash's address, shuts the
drawer, gets her purse and heads out.
YUNG DOL KIM
Alone in a rising elevator. An oriental with mahogany
skin, obsidian eyes, guard's uniform and cap, carrying
a huge sword.
He watches the floor numbers, stops at 40. The doors
open. He creeps out into:
AN EMPTY, CARPETED HALLWAY
Silence. Gliding past silent offices, he spots:
A FIGURE WITH A SWORD IN AN ALCOVE
Swinging, he slices off the figure's head. It rolls into
the light. He stares down at it. It's plastic. He has
destroyed a mannequin.
Behind him, CROAKING LAUGHTER. Kim turns. The Kurgan
appears with his weapon, amused by his little joke.
Such a brave warrior
Let's see how you can handle
the real thing.
The Kurgan charges, battering Kim into:
filled with rows of computer desks. The Kurgan goads Kim,
side-stepping blows which SMASH files and phones. He's
like a giant cat playing with a helpless mouse.
you fight like an old woman, Kim.
No longer amused, the Kurgan becomes a one-man wrecking-
crew. He chases Kim, blitzing the office. The brilliance
of his swordsmanship is staggering. unexpectedly:
Kim drops his sword on the carpet. Behind him, through a
window, the lights of Manhatten.
What are you doing? Pick up your
Tradition, once more?
It is all we have
It's no longer enough. I'm tired,
Kurgan. Four hundred years without
release. Let's be done with it. I
I will give you peace
There can be only one.
He cuts off Kim's head. A shimmering energy flashes between
the corpse and Kurgan.
He starts to glow. Computer-screens EXPLODE. From nowhere,
a terrifying wind starts blowing. Pares fly. Water-coolers
CRASH to the floor.
The window IMPLODES, sucking Kim's body out into space. It
falls 40 floors.
MACLEOD AT HOME
sharpening his Samurai sword with a jeweler's file before
a CRACKLING FIRE. He's in his sunken lounge.
On a coffee-table in front of him, a book:
BRENDA J. WYATT
He studies the smiling photo, reading the bio. The author
does forensics work for the City of New York.
Above him, fish swim in the aquarium. He watches them,
mind drifting back through time.
RAMIREZ & MACLEOD
In a boat, heading for an island in the middle of a loch.
Resplendent in feathered hat, jewelled tunic, cape and
boots, the Spaniard mans the oars.
Alarmed, MacLeod sits facing the Spaniard, white-knuckling
I don't like boats. I don't like
water. I'm a man, not a fish.
You complain endlessly. I wonder
if I'm wasting my time with you,
Stop calling me brother. You look
like a woman, you stupid haggis.
Haggis? What is haggis?
A sheep's stomach stuffed with
meat and barley.
What do you do with it?
You eat it.
Resting the oars, he takes snuff, inhaling deeply.
LOUD SNEEZE. The boat rocks violently.
Be still, for God's sake. You'll
tip us over.
I can't swim -- you Spanish pea-
Their angry voices carry across the lake.
I am not Spanish. I am Egyptian.
You said you were from Spain.
You're a liar.
You smell like a dung-heap. You
have the manners of a goat. And
no knowledge of your potential.
Gleefully, Ramirez starts violently rocking the boat.
MacLeod is terrified. See-sawing wildly, he grabs for an
oar. Ramirez suddenly throws him overboard.
HUGE SPLASH. YELLING, MacLeod disappears, bobbing up,
flailing his arms.
Help me. I'm drowning.
Ramirez rows for the island.
You can't drown, you fool. You're
MacLeod sinks in bubbles. Ramirez keeps rowing.
parking outside 1182 Hudson Street. Getting out of the
car, she checks the address in her notebook. Across the
street, the sign:
R. NASH -- ANTIQUES
She heads for the door.
staring into the fire in the sunken lounge. A flashing
light distracts him. He flips a switch, hearing VOICES
on the INTERCOM.
I'm sorry, Miss Wyatt. Mr. Nash
I need to talk to him now. Can I
call him at home?
Glancing at Brenda Wyatt's book on the coffee table, he
gets up. He pushes a button that opens a door leading
to the outer office.
IN THE OUTER OFFICE
RACHEL ELLENSTEIN, 52
Good-looking, business-like, in pant-suit and glasses,
sits at a desk in Nash's shop, talking to Brenda.
I'm afraid not.
This is Brenda Wyatt, Mr. Nash
Ah, Wyatt. That's your last name.
We've already met, Rachel.
What can I do for you.
Resolute, she takes a deep breath.
I'd like some advice.
Are you the kind of woman who
She meets his gaze, ready for anything. He grins. Rachel
enjoys the sparring.
Advice about what?
What can you tell me about a seven-
foot lunatic hacking away with a
broadsword at one o'clock in the
morning in New York City, 1985?
Then how about a Japanese sword
made in 600 B.C.?
The metal in the blade folded
MacLeod shakes his head. This woman just keeps coming.
i don't deal in exotic weapons.
Taking her arm, he guides her to a display-case.
Can I show you something in 18th
That's not why I came here, and
you know it.
She looks right into his eyes. Her closeness unsettles
Do you cook?
I thought we might have diner
He finds her aggressiveness sexy. Before he can speak,
the street door opens.
Bedsoe bursts in.
Seeing MacLeod and Brenda, he turns away, scrutinizing
a tapestry -- mermaids frolicking with sea-monsters.
By the door, Macleod pauses at Bedsoe's elbow, contem-
plating the garish creation.
The Rape of Neptune's Daughter by
the Fish Creatures.
Do you like fish?
To eat, you mean?
MacLeod is gone.
On the island, by a CRACKLING fire, back to the loch.
The boat's on the beach.
Bright sunshine. Stunning scenery. He enjoys the soli-
tude, sword at his side on the ground.
Behind him, 50 yards away, the lake surface swirls silently.
Something is out there. A glowering head appears.
rising up out of the lake. Spotting Ramirez, he wades
cautiously to the shore.
Covered in duck-weed and slime, he draws his claymore,
creeping silently to within feet of the Spaniard's back.
Slowly he raises his sword in both hands high over Ramirez's
head. He's going to cut the bastard in half.
With all his might, he brings the sword down. Something
Like lightning, without looking back, Ramirez grabs his
Samurai, parries the blow and is up and facing him in
one blind motion.
MacLeod's claymore flies from his hands.
What took you so long?
MacLeod watches his sword land on the beach 50 feet away.
This can't be. It's the devil's
You numbskull! Clod! You're no
better than the villagers who
threw you out.
Livid, MacLeod splutters water, staring back at the loch,
trying to make sense of what's happened.
You cannot die, MacLeod. Accept
2 fish wriggle free from the Highlander's tunic, flopping
to the sand.
Scowling at the Spaniard, he wishes this cup would pass
from him, suspecting in his heart it will not.
(through his teeth)
Good! it's a place to start
MACLEOD AND RAMIREZ SPARRING BY A WATERFALL
CLANGING steel-on-steel. Rainbows of spray span the gorge.
MacLeod is strong but awkward. Ramirez's Samurai SINGS in
a brilliant display of swordsmanship.
No, no, pendejo. Protect your
MacLeod thrusts. Ramirez blocks.
Concentrate! You can survive
anything but steel against your
throat. If your head leaves
your neck, it's over.
Bellowing, MacLeod strikes. Ramirez deflects the blow with
Move your feet!
We must fight until only one
remains. There can be only
Move your feet, I said!
(ducking a swing)
You are safe only on holy ground
None of us will violate that law.
Exhausted, MacLeod staggers. Ramirez taunts him, jabbing
him in the butt.
You over-dressed haggis. I'm
going to split you in half.
Swinging his claymore, MacLeod goes berserk, missing Ramirez
altogether, smashing brush, demolishing trees.
Finally, he collapses, gulping for air in the grass. Ramirez
stands over him.
Go to hell. I've had enough.
The Spaniard's expression changes. Switching tack, he sits
his young charge, watching the THUNDERING falls.
You must fight. You must learn to
keep your head. On you may depend
the fate of mortal men.
I don't care. i don't want it.
None of us chose it.
Then how did it happen,
for God's sake?
How does the sun know when
to come up?
Ramirez points to SQUIRRELS CHATTERING under an oak.
Those squirrels all look alike.
But once in a while, one is born
different. With blue eyes. And
fur white as snow. Others of its
kind try to destroy it or drive
Flicking a bee off his pantaloons, he moves into the oak's
The squirrels scamper away.
You must learn to conceal your
special gift. To harness your
Until the time of the Gathering.
Questions, questions. Too much
Slicing the air with his Samurai, he waves MacLeod up.
I'm not moving.
Then I'll cut you where you sit.
Wearily, MacLeod rises. The Spaniard advances, pounding
It is said that when only a few
of us are left, eons from now, we
will feel an irresistible pull to
a faraway land -- to fight for the
smoking a cigar at his desk in the squad-room. Before him,
a copy of the New York Times. Headline:
HEAD-HUNTER STALKS NEW YORK
Bedsoe slumps in a chair.
You're sure it was Brenda?
In Nash's shop. Talking to him.
That ballsy broad. I never know
what's going on with her.
What did she and Nash talk about?
Did he say anything?
Yeah. He asked me if I liked
Fish -- ?
MONTAGE - MACLEOD AND RAMIREZ FIGHTING
Various locations and times.
Slowly, MacLeod improves, gaining control -- his blows,
stronger, his coordination surer.
Ramirez is pleased.
bartering for a flapping chicken in Jedburgh Market.
In a group of SHOUTING WOMEN.
Bright sunshine. FLAGS and BANNERS CRACK in the wind
off the sea.
Farmers sell cows and sheep. Crowds mill around. Open
fires, Musicians and Hawkers.
MacLeod and Ramirez watch Heather. Ramirez holds onto
his hat. He buys an apple, bitting into it.
Far up the valley, MacLeod's forge is a dot on the
You will have no family. We
cannot have children.
A BAND PLAYS. Girls dance around a maypole. MacLeod
lovingly watches Heather bag a SQUAWKING BIRD.
That won't please Heather. I'll
tell you that for nothing.
Ramirez shrugs. Heather holds up the sack.
Here's dinner. Be off now. I
fancy a new dress.
They watch a Juggler.
You must leave her, brother.
MacLeod scowls. The Juggler drops his balls in the
swirling wind. The CROWD WHISTLES.
They arrive at a grassy arena. Huge men in kilts toss
40-foot cabers to the CHEERS of the crowd.
I was born 2,437 years ago. In
that time, I have had three wives.
MacLeod tries to figure the man's age.
A Whore sashays past, skirts billowing, ogling Ramirez.
Graciously, he bows to her.
The last was Shakiko, a Japanese
Her father, Kamakura, a genius,
made this for me in 593 B.C. It
is the only one of its kind.
Like his daughter.
Drawing the Samurai, he tosses it to MacLeod, who
catches it, testing its weight.
When Shakiko died, I was
shattered. I would save you that
pain. Please -- let Heather go.
She's my wife, man. I love her.
He sees her, gaily pushing through the crowd, ablaze
with colored silks.
Then you will cause yourself great
anguish. I buried Shakiko with my
I had to go on, never again to hear
the sound of her voice, her laughter.
She left behind such a silence.
Heather flies into MacLeod's arms, kissing him, showing
him the cloth.
D'you like it? Tell me true.
Aye, blossom. It's fine.
Delighted, she dances around him, entwining him in the
WIND-WHIPPED WAVES ON THE STORMY NORTH SEA
off the Scottish coast. Cold sun. Seagulls on the
wind. Mountains against cumulus.
Suddenly, on the shore:
A GIANT STAG WITH SHINING ANTLERS
rears up in the gorse. Head high, still, it watches:
RAMIREZ AND MACLEOD WALKING ON THE BEACH
MacLeod's freezing to death.
Now for the last of our training.
The Spaniard points to the stag, shouting above the
Trust me. Let your mind feel the
stag. His blood. Coursing. His
The SOUNDS OF THE TWO HEARTS POUND in his brain.
I feel him.
It is the Quickening. We are at
one with all living things.
The stag bolts.
MacLeod's perception is forever changed. The high-
lands, the sea, the trees -- they're like old friends
he'll never see the same way again.
When we first met, you felt ill.
Shivering, MacLeod nods.
Did you ever feel that way
Yes. When the MacLeods fought
the Frazers, and a black knight
ran me through. Only it was
different, more painful.
Herons swoop low over the waves.
That black knight was the Kurgan.
It is because of him that I sought
There is great power in the Quickening.
But Nature has not given us equal shares.
Some, like you and the Kurgan, have more.
MacLeod's ears are freezing.
And when one of us takes another's
head, the victor becomes stronger.
They clamber through rocks, away from the angry sea.
A DEEP-WATER POND SURROUNDED BY FERNS
silent and old, under a dome of fir trees.
MacLeod and Ramirez sit on the bank.
Shedding his boots, yanking up his pantaloons, Ramirez steps
gingerly into the pool, reacting to the cold.
Who is the Kurgan? Where does
he come from?
The Kurgans were an ancient people
from the steppes of Russia. For
amusement, they tossed children
into pits with hungry dogs to
fight for meat.
In the trees above, a blue jay arrives home with food for
I have fought the Kurgan 3 times.
In Babylon, Greece and China.
He skips out of the water, drying his feet.
The last time, I was lucky to
get away with my head.
The Kurgan is the strongest
of all immortals. He is
the perfect warrior.
He cares about nothing or no-one.
He is completely evil.
If he wins the Prize, mortal men
will suffer an eternity of darkness
and slavery beneath his boot.
How do you fight such a savage?
With heart, faith and steel.
RAMIREZ AND MACLEOD ON A WOODLAND PATH
Above them, sunset changes green to gold. Ramirez
draws his Samurai.
Now. Let us see what kind of
swordsman you have become.
On guard, pendejo.
MacLeod's already moving, claymore spinning. He
feints. Ramirez ducks.
Off-balance, the Spaniard retreats, warding off deadly
In the end, there can be only
It is the Prize for which we
all struggle. The Kurgan must
never win it. Alone, I cannot
You may have a chance.
Sure-footed, MacLeod tracks him through fallen timber.
If it came down to just us two,
would you take my head?
Ramirez doesn't answer. MacLeod leaps forward, clay-
more a WHISTLING RAZOR.
Ramirez parries, but it's no good. The student has
become the master.
Losing his balance, Ramirez topples into a gully.
MacLeod's on him in a second, blade against his throat.
Breath rasping, they hold each other's gaze in green
twilight. An eternity passes, then:
MacLeod throws his sword away.
Give me your hand, brother.
Ramirez smiles. His work done. MacLeod hauls him
MACLEOD STRIDING THROUGH CENTRAL PARK
Skaters on the ice. Kids fight with wooden swords in Sheep
Behind him, trying to look inconspicuous, the faithful Bedsoe
Ahead in the trees. MacLeod sees:
An elegant black African in blue-gold robes, head crowned
Standing on a stone bridge over the lake, he feeds bread to
MacLeod joins him, locking eyes with the African. They're
tense, ready for anything.
Unexpectedly, Kastagir grins wall-to-wall teeth, grabbing
a huge bear-hug.
MacLeod. It's good to see you.
Seems like a hundred years.
It has been a hundred years.
Kastagir LAUGHS, removing a flask from his robe, offering it
A little something to put
hair on your chest?
What is it?
MacLeod sniffs the open flask. It's a head-winder. The
appraises him critically.
You've become so strong, MacLeod.
Surely, you're not afraid of a
Do you think I'm trying to
They LAUGH. MacLeod drinks. Retrieving the flask, the African
takes a long swig.
You're crazy, Kastagir.
You always were.
Have some more.
MacLeod drinks. Kastagir feeds the ducks.
The Gathering is here.
Time has almost caught us,
has it? Do you think we should
I think we should have a party.
They take off across the park. Bedsoe emerges from
bushes, following them.
MACLEOD AND KASTAGIR IN THE DUG_OUT BAR
A steel-&-neon Village hang-out. Sawdust on the floor. It's
They're drinking and talking, glancing over at:
Bedsoe, alone in a nearby booth, spying on them from behind a
Unexpectedly, MacLeod and Kastagir appear at his table,
Mind if we join you?
Bedsoe folds his paper, gathering his wits.
His cover's blown, but this might just be the opportunity
waiting for. He decides to play along.
Sundra Kastagir, meet --
What's your name?
He's a cop. He questioned me after
Fasil lost his head. He's trying to
pin a murder on me.
If I'm guilty, they'll give me the
They ROAR with laughter. Bedsoe's eyes narrow. He makes
notes. A WAITRESS in pirate costume appears.
I'll have what they're having.
MONTAGE -- THE PARTY
The waitress brings endless rounds of drinks. Amidst
the trio gets drunk.
Bedsoe starts having fun, finally going to work on Kastagir's
MACLEOD, KASTAGIR & BEDSOE
completely potted. Their table is a forest of bottles.
D'you remember the night Washington
lost his teeth at Valley Forge?
I was in Washington once.
Freezing our asses off, crawling
around in the snow looking for a
set of wooden dentures.
Which Washington are we
Ever fight a duel, Bedstead?
Bedsoe tries to focus on MacLeod.
It was in 1797. I was using the name
Adrian Montagu. I insulted the wife
of a pompous Boston lawyer named Bassett.
Hotchkiss, his second, dragged me to
Beacon Common. I was very drunk.
red-eyed, dishevelled and weaving.
Bassett chose rapiers at dawn.
BASSETT, a corpulent, ferret-faced lawyer, tests blades
under a tree. Horses graze nearby.
HOTCHKISS, a tall, lantern-jawed toadt, brushes his
The heavier blade, Mr. Bassett, I
You are my second, Hotchkiss. I
am fighting this duel. Not you.
He watches MacLeod trying to kill a bush.
See if the imbecile is ready.
Rocketing over the grass, Hotchkiss keeps clear of
MacLeod's unpredictable thrusts.
Mr. Bassett is waiting, sir.
MacLeod whips around, almost dislocating his neck.
I'm Bontagu. Not Massett.
His wig slides over his eyes.
Christ, I've gone blind.
On guard, sir.
Hotchkiss waits for the kill. MacLeod can't see.
Bassett runs him through.
Bassett sees it's finished. Hotchkiss kisses his master,
escorting him to his horse.
Wound healing, head aching, MacLeod staggers up.
Bassett. Is that you?
Dumbstruck, they wheel. He's waving at them.
You missed him, Mr. Bassett.
I did not miss him, you idiot. I
ran him through.
MacLeod blinks at his sword, wondering what it is.
He is still standing, sir.
Shoving Hotchkiss aside, Bassett lunges, running
MacLeod through again. MacLeod falls down.
Bassett kept running me through.
I'd fall down.
More frenzied attempts by Bassett, each time receiving
kisses from Hotchkiss.
Hotchkiss would embrace Bassett.
They'd head for their horses. I'd
Eyes zooming, MacLeod rocks on his heels.
Bassett thinks it's a nightmare. Hotchkiss shoves a
pistol into his hand.
Shoot him! Shoot him in the head!
Finally, grasping what's happening, MacLeod raises his
Stop, sir. I beseech you.
Bassett tries to cock the gun, Hotchkiss urging him on.
I apologize, Mr. Bassett, for
calling your wife a bloated wart-
I trust honor has been satisfied,
and bid you good day.
He staggers off into the mist. Hotchkiss tries to
wrench the gun from Bassett.
Let me do it. You botched the
Wrestling it from him, Bassett wheels in circles, look-
ing for someone to kill.
Suspecting it will be he, Hotchkiss flees. Bassett
raises the pistol and FIRES.
howling with LAUGHTER in the Dug-Out Bar. Zooming, Bedsoe
staggers up, knocking over bottles.
I wanna thank --
He blinks at them. He can't remember anybody's name.
HICCUPING, he weaves off, MUMBLING.
No one notices he's gone. The pirate-waitress looms over
the table, Kastagir and MacLeod squint up at her.
Imagining they're in another century, they adopt Long John
Avast, ye bonny wench.
Bring us two barrels of scurvy and
a bucket of cleats.
Okay, that's it, guys. You're
She's right. The party's over.
KASTAGIR AND MACLEOD
on swings in a children's playground at dawn, rocking back
forth. Both men are sober.
A bitter wind tosses newspaper, swirls leaves. Skyscrapers
the rising sun.
There are 3 of us left. You,
me and the Kurgan.
Are you suggesting we join
forces against him?
MacLeod watches a JOGGER flounder by.
Ramirez filled your head with
nonsense. Sooner or later. you
and I would have to fight.
Nothing personal. I've always
liked you, actually.
He points a finger at MacLeod, pulling an imaginary trigger.
MacLeod gets up and walks away. Kastagir swings in the wind.
RAMIREZ AND HEATHER
having lunch in the MacLeod home. A WOODEN STAIRCASE runs
from ground to 3rd floor.
Unexpectedly, Ramirez's body jolts violently. His face
contorts, voice strangled.
Run, Heather --!
Suddenly, the front door EXPLODES, splintering in fragments.
Sword in hand, eyes burning, the Kurgan surges in.
Heather races back. Ramirez dives for his sword on the
table. The Kurgan swings, barely missing Ramirez, chopping
the table in two.
Ramirez counters, his Samurai slicing the Kurgan's throat,
severing his vocal chords.
GARGLING in fury, the Kurgan clutches his neck. Warding off
the Spaniard's attack, he reels backward up the stairs.
RAMIREZ AND THE KURGAN
fighting on the staircase. Savage forces are unleashed.
Sparks fly from CLANGING blades. Outside, THUNDER CRACKS
Despite his wound, the Kurgan fights like a mad dog. Ramirez
The stone house is reduced to rubble. All that remains is
one wall and the staircase rising to nowhere.
Outmatched, Ramirez retreats up the stairs. Unstoppable,
the Kurgan follows.
paralyzed with fear, crouches by a wall, watching the
battle -- Ramirez and the wounded giant silhouetted against
RAMIREZ AND THE KURGAN
hanging in space at the top of the stairs. Ramirez can retrea
no further. The Kurgan runs him through. LIGHTNING sears the
Gasping, the Spaniard sags to his knees, sword falling 3
to the ground. Below, Heather SCREAMS.
Ramirez tries to rise. The Kurgan grabs his hair, pulling him
The Highlander. Where is he?
Ramirez's blade has turned the Kurgan's voice to a
You're too late. I have prepared
him for you.
You waste your time. He is nothing.
Who is the woman?
Not for much longer.
I can't hear you, Kurgan. What's
wrong with your voice?
Ramirez SPITS in his face. The Kurgan goes mad, raising
There can be only one.
He cuts off Ramirez's head. A SHIMMERING CLOUD engulfs
He kicks the corpse off the stairs. Turning, he stares
down at Heather shivering by the wall. His pitiless eyes
burn into her.
The next second, the remaining wall gives way, taking the
staircase with it. Surprised, the Kurgan disappears under
a mass of timber and stone.
Deathly stillness. Clouds cast a pall over the ruins.
Cautiously, Heather inches forward, staring down at the
debris, trying to comprehend what's happened. Suddenly:
THE KURGAN'S HEAD ROCKETS OUT OF THE RUBBLE
grabbing her by the throat. She SCREAMS. He RISES.
in his silver room, studying Ramirez's hat in the glass
case. Rachel enters, standing behind him. MacLeod
What are you looking at?
The eyes in the back of your head.
Rising, he heads for the door. Rachel follows him.
People are asking about you. What
am I supposed to say?
Tell them I'm immortal.
In an overcoat, carrying a wrapped gift, walking through
his closed antique shop, followed by Rachel.
Would you listen to me for one
You can't hide your feelings from
me. I've known you too long.
How about loneliness?
He conceals his true reaction.
I'm not lonely. I've got everything
I need, right here.
No, you don't. You refuse to let
anyone love you.
Love is for poets. I have other
things to do.
(kissing her forehead)
You're such a romantic, Rachel.
You always were.
BEDSOE ON STAKE-OUT
parked outside a building in Murray Hill, still suffering
from his evening in the Dug-Out Bar. His head's killing
him, he's got the shakes and he needs a shave.
Balancing a cup of coffee, he tries to work an Alka-Seltzer
into a container of water, inadvertently hitting the horn
with his elbow. It BLARES.
Grabbing his temples, he drops the water, spilling scalding
coffee into his groin.
Unnoticed, MacLeod enters the building.
in bra and panties in her bedroom.
Finishing make-up, brushing her hair. Nervous, she
slips into a sexy dress and boots, studying the effect
from different angles.
Adjusting her hair, she adds a lizard belt, clinching it
tight around her narrow waist.
Satisfied, she walks out into:
A glass and chrome living room.
Dinner set for two. Agitated, she opens the table-
drawer. Inside: A pistol.
She cracks it open. It's loaded.
Replacing it, she opens a cabinet. A hidden tape-
recorder is set to go.
BUZZER. It's the front door.
Starting the recorder, she shuts the cabinet, takes a
breath, and opens the door.
It's Russell Nash.
In suit, tie and overcoat, with gift-wrapped package and
Good evening, Miss Wyatt.
He smiles warmly. Those eyes again, fixed on her. She
You want to dine in the hall, or
shall we step inside?
Come on in.
For a second, they're very close. Her heart pounds.
May I take your coat?
No, thanks. I'll hold onto it.
Flushed, she can't think what to say. Impulsively, she
heads for the bedroom.
Where are you going?
I'll be right back. The glasses
are over there.
Putting his gift on the coffee-table, he takes off his
coat, glancing around.
IN THE BEDROOM
She stares at her rigid image in the mirror.
I like your place, Brenda.
You never told me what it is you
do for a living.
Her face goes white.
Do you know what you're doing?
Mind racing, she improvises.
I work for the Metropolitan Museum --
She tries to calm down. What has she gotten herself into?
IN THE LIVING ROOM
MacLeod spots Bedsoe through the blinds.
Covering the room like a cat, he checks the table-drawer,
sees the pistol.
That explains your interest in
He finds the recorder in the cabinet.
Yes. Particularly the Samurai.
Opening the bottle, he sits on the sofa.
Brenda enters, joining him, feeling more confident, smooth-
ing her skirt over her thighs. He fills glasses, handing
Shall we have a toast?
He thinks for a moment.
To the child going to bed,
And the man on the stairs
Who climbs to his dying love
In her high room.
And let us hope tonight
He shall find no dying,
But his love alive and warm.
That's beautiful. What is it?
The CLINK GLASSES.
They drink. She blinks as it hits her throat. She
Brandy. Bottled in 1783.
Jesus. That's old.
1783 was a very good year. Mozart
wrote his Great Mass. The
Montgolfier brothers went up in
the first hot-air balloon. And
England recognized the
independence of the United States.
Is that right?
Who is this guy who fights scarred giants, drinks 200-
year-old brandy and has a antique shop on Hudson
He seems to be staring into her soul, seducing her in
erotic, unfamiliar ways.
She notices the package.
It's for you.
Can I open it?
If you like.
She picks it up and rips off the gift-wrap, staring
BRENDA J. WYATT
The blood drains from her face.
Your bio doesn't mention the Met.
It says you work for the police
Are you and Moran trying to set
Angry, she rises, moving away.
I don't work for Moran.
Then why's that fat policeman
sitting outside, watching your
She peers through the blinds, seeing Bedsoe in the car.
You remember him. Moran's had
him tailing me.
She sits close to the table containing the pistol. He
refills his glass. The silence is deadly.
What are you going to do?
The question is, what are
you going to do?
Are you going to turn off the
tape. or are you going to shoot
me with the .38?
You're really something.
Crossing to the recorder, she rips out the tape. Removing the
pistol, she empties it, tossing it away.
I'm not looking for a killer.
I'm looking for a sword
The one used on Fasil. I found
pieces of it under the Garden.
He stands, getting ready to leave. She blocks his way
I only want to see the Samurai.
I told you. It's not supposed
Picking up the shards, she waves them in his face.
I dated these pieces of the blade
at 600 B.C. The metal's been folded
over 200 times.
The Japanese didn't start making
swords that way until the Middle Ages.
Her eyes are alight.
So where the hell did it come from?
He glances at the shards. Her energy is uncompromising.
If I could verify the existence of
such a weapon, it'd be like finding
a 747 made a thousand years before
the Wright brothers flew.
With a find like that, I could
get on "Good Morning America".
This is crazy.
Ignoring her, he heads for the door. Furious, she spins him
Face-to-face, he can smell her perfume. It's driving him
I want some straight answers, Nash.
Don't you ever think about anything
except what you want?
Before he can stop himself, he's got a handful of her
hair, pulling her mouth onto his, kissing her passion-
She struggles. Releasing her, he touches her cheek,
Breathless, Brenda sits on the couch. The front door
descending a rear stairwell, FOOTSTEPS ECHOING off the
concrete. He stops on a landing, shutting his eyes.
MONTAGE: HEATHER GROWING OLD
MacLeod and Heather leave Jedburgh and move east, set-
tling on a farm outside Montrose.
Years become decades. She changes. Her youth fades.
MacLeod is with her constantly.
Breathing her last, she lies in his arms, clutching a
sheepskin doll. She strokes his ageless cheek.
My beautiful man. My husband.
I am that, my love.
Her eyes fill with tears. MacLeod fights for control,
smoothing her hair.
I have never...really known.
Why you stayed.
Because I love you as much now as
the day I first met you.
And I love you.
Crying, she turns away. Tormented, he cradles her
head, holding her tight.
I don't want to die. I want to
stay with you forever.
I want that, too.
Will you do something for me,
In years to come, will you light a
candle and remember me on my
Aye, love. I will
I wanted to have your children.
She collapses, clinging to him.
They would have been strong and
Don't see me, Conner. Let me die
Heart breaking, he rocks her. Breathing faster, she
closes her eyes.
Where are we?
We're in the Highlands. Where
else? Running down a mountain-
She smiles, young again.
The sun's shining. It's not cold.
We'll swim in the loch, maybe.
You've got your sheepskins on.
And the boots I made for you.
She dies. He squeezes her tighter, blinking back
When I met you at the fair, you
said: "You're all muck and
muscle." Then you smiled. What a
Grief overwhelms him. Lowering her gently, he closes
her eyes, taking the doll from her hand. He kisses her
Good night, my bonnie Heather.
You were always beautiful to me.
laying Heather to rest at sunset on a hill above the
farm. His horse stands under a tree.
Drawing his claymore, he sinks it deep into the earth,
marking Heather's grave.
He buckles on Ramirez's Samurai, eyes raking the
You were right, haggis. There
will never be another.
Grimly, he leads his horse down the mountain.
Left behind, his claymore. Carved into the blade,
glowing in the dying sun, the name:
MACLEOD IN HIS NEW YORK LOFT
surrounded by his past. Everywhere he looks, objects
remind him of distant places and times, intensifying
his painful isolation.
VOICES and SOUNDS scramble his brain, gathering in
My beautiful man. My husband --
Lotta fun, ain't it --?
Devil! Devil --!
Head chopped off two nights ago --
600 B.C. It's not supposed to exist --
(a baby crying)
Tell them I'm immortal --
(pipes and drums)
There can be only one --!
The pressure's too much. BELLOWING, MacLeod erupts.
Picking up a vase, he spins round in fury, flinging it
against a wall. It SHATTERS in a million pieces.
MONTAGE: The same frustration vented bacward through
the centuries. The vast today, marble statue in 1880,
a wine bottle at a French castle wall, the beer glass
at his attackers in the Scottish tavern.
GLASS FRAGMENTS RING IN THE STILLNESS
falling to the floor. MacLeod struggles to control his
feelings. Sitting down on a couch, he stares out of the
window. His hands are shaking.
MORAN AND BEDSOE MUNCHING BURGERS AT TONY'S
a stand at 59th & Lexington. Around them, crowds, traffic
jams, BLARING HORNS.
TONY, the huge owner, in apron and baseball cap, eats cole-
slaw, checking the News headline:
HEAD HUNTER 3 -- COPS ZERO
Hey, Moran. Have you read what it
Come on, Tony. You know cops
What does "incompetent" mean?
Tony cackles. Moran chews burger, eyeing Bedsoe.
The damn Mayor's calling my
apartment at two in the morning.
Bedsoe sympathizes. They finish up, getting into a
green Dodge. Bedsoe FIRES THE ENGINE.
Hey, Moran. What does "baffled"
The Dodge PEELS OFF into traffic.
talking to Rachel in the antique shop.
She's at her desk. He strolls about, looking things over.
He makes her nervous.
You do see him every once in a while?
How do you reach him?
He sits across from her.
He kind-of keeps you in the dark,
Alright, Miss -- or is it Mrs.?
Miss. Rachel Ellenstein. Why?
Just curious. I'm a bachelor myself.
If you see Nash, have him call me,
BRENDA READING "CERTIFICATES OF BIRTH, 1941-48"
in the Hall of Records. She finds a photostat:
RUSSELL EDWIN NASH
BORN: 11.17 A.M. OCTOBER 22nd, 1945
MERCY HOSPITAL, SYRACUSE, NEW YORK
TO: KAREN JOAN NASH
DR. W.B. KADELL
DR. WILLIS KADELL
82, thumbing through files in his cluttered study. Brenda
sits on a sofa. He's never seen legs like hers.
Here we go. Karen Joan Nash.
Yes, I remember this one. I was
practicing in Syracuse. Didn't
get many of these.
(checks her legs again)
Nowadays that's no big deal.
Back then in Syracuse it was a
He CHUCKLES, spinning his eyebrows.
She had the baby. Then she died.
So Nash was illegitimate?
Yeah, he was illegitimate. For
about a minute-and-a-half. He
died right after she did.
getting out of a cab at 42nd and 5th, dressed in coat, fur
hat, gloves and scarf.
Moving through lunchtime crowds, she walks up the steps to
the Public Libary.
seated at his computer-console. He's the Chief
Archivist, New York State.
Macho, gay, short-hair, moustache and tattoos. Before
him, two display screens.
Brenda perches on a stool at his elbow, coat, hat and
scarf over her arm.
I did what you asked, Brenda. And
do I have something weird.
The computer will display certain
documents on micro-film.
They'll pop up there.
Erik, what's weird?
This guy Nash's signature. He's
the legal owner of the property on
I know that.
He could have been renting. Or
leasing. You don't know.
Brenda sighs. Talking to Erik is a pain in the ass.
A document appears on the 2nd screen.
Okay, here we go. This is the
original deed to the Hudson Street
property. Dated 1796. Look at
On screen, a dramatic scrawl: ADRIAN MONTAGU.
Who's Adrian Montagu?
The first owner of Hudon Street.
An English immigrant.
Freezing, Brenda puts her coat back on.
Can we cut to the chase, Erik?
I'm taking you through a process
here, Brenda. I spent hours on
Brenda shivers in the cold.
Adrian Montagu left his property
to Hamilton Kopp.
Even in the old days, if somebody
left you something, you had to
sign a receipt.
New program. On the 2nd screen, a receipt signed:
This shows that Kopp actually
received Montagu's inheritance.
Check out Kopp's signature.
It looks a little like the first
guy's -- Montagu.
He returns to the console.
The next thing I did was see if I
could find a Hamilton Kopp who
died at birth some time before the
receipt was signed by Montagu.
Logical minds search for
I've got a logical mind. The Nash
kid died at birth, right?
She nods. On screen, a DEATH CERTIFICATE for HAMILTON
Here we go. Hamilton Kopp. Born,
January 16th, 1819. Died at birth
-- 20 years before he allegedly
signed the receipt inheriting
Hudson Street from Montagu.
It's a coincidence. It's got to
be a different Kopp.
Thin so? Watch this.
(programs new stuff)
Kopp died and left his wordly
goods to one Alfred Burgess.
On-screen, a receipt signed: ALFRED BURGESS.
Burgess left his possessions to
On-screen, a receipt signed: WALLINGTON BENOIT.
And Benoit left his stuff to your
guy. Russell Nash.
On-screen, a receipt signed RUSSELL NASH. Erik swivels
in his chair. Brenda puts on her gloves.
In all five instances, Montagu
through Nash, I found a death
certificate for a kid with the
same name, who died at birth --
years before he pretended to sign
for his inheritance.
Still think it's a coincidence?
She replaces her fur hat. She's never been so cold.
Erik, isn't there any heat in
No. Heat's bad for the circuits.
(taps more keys)
And now, just in case there's any
On-screen, Brenda examines five magnified signatures.
Erik runs another program, overlaying individual let-
ters from the combined signatures -- T's on T's, N's
over N's, etc.
Dramatically, he spins around on his chair.
So what you got here, Brenda is a
guy who's been creeping around
since at least 1700. Pretending
to croak every once in a while,
leaving all his possessions to
kids who've been corpses for years
-- and assuming their identities.
It's not possible.
KENNY WATCHING TV NEWS
in the Ansonia lobby. Derelicts snore in harmony.
Public outrage mounts this hour as
New York's finest seem powerless
to stop the Head-Hunter.
The Kurgan leaves the elevator.
Carrying his oblong case, crossing the lobby.
Hey Rockefeller. How did you
like Candy? She said you were
The Kurgan stops, staring at him.
You watch your ass out there.
Don't let the Head-Hunter getcha!
The Kurgan walks up to him, inches from his face.
Kenny stares into eyes that are a vision of Hell.
Don't speak to me.
I didn't mean --
Don't ever speak to me. Do you
He understands. The Kurgan leaves, Kenny staring after
Hope you get your head chopped
driving 23rd in a souped-up Mustang.
He's wiry, in fatigues, T-shirt, forage-cap and boots.
Headlights reflect in his sunglasses.
Gun magazines on the seat, assault weapons in the back,
Uzi machine-pistol on the dash. Nobody's gonna mug
Oh, she jumped in bed,
And she covered her head,
Bet I couldn't find her.
He turns down 2nd Avenue, gathering speed.
Oh, her titties were pink
As a red rooster's --
He brakes suddenly, revving back, fishtailing to a
halt, staring down an alley.
A black guy and a white guy battle with swords.
Matunas grabs the Uzi, springing into action.
THE KURGAN AND KASTAGIR IN THE ALLEY
Fighting savegely. Matunas appears, thunderstruck.
What the hell's going on?
They continue hammering at each other. Matunas slams a
clip into the Uzi, taking aim.
Horrified, he sees the white guy decapitate the black
Matunas starts FIRING.
Five slugs tear into the white guy's chest, flinging him
against a fence. He falls. Matunas disappears down the
A SMALL CROWD GATHERS
on 2nd Avenue. A vintage Chevy pulls up at the curb,
ENGINE RUNNING. Inside, AN OLD COUPLE try to see what's
creeps down the dark alley. He checks the black guy.
He's a goner.
Suddenly, the white guy he shot lunges with a sword,
driving the blade into Matuna's stomach. SCREAMING,
he falls, dropping his Uzi.
Ignoring him, the Kurgan hunches over Kastagir's body.
Matunas sees weird things happen:
on 2nd Avenue freaks. STREET-LIGHTS DIM. WINDOWS
EXPLODE in buildings. NEON SIGNS ERUPT. MANHOLE
COVERS BLAST skyward.
Riddled with bullet-holes, the Kurgan staggers out
of the alley, CURSING, wielding his sword. The crowd
scatters in terror.
Hearing distant SIRENS, the Kurgan looks for a ride,
spotting the Chevy on the curb.
Bellowing, he charges, sword swinging, opening the
Chevy's roof like a tin can.
Prying it open with his bare hands, he sees the old
couple staring up at what used to be their roof. The
next second, they're airborne, hurled to the sidewalk.
Leaping inside, the Kurgan takes off. Tires SHRIEKING,
roof flapping, he hurtles away down 2nd Avenue.
MORAN AND BEDSOE ENTERING BELLEVUE HOSPITAL
shoving REPORTERS aside.
Did he see the Head-Hunter? What's
the victim's name? Come on, Moran!
MORAN AND BEDSOE IN AN ASCENDING ELEVATOR
watching floor numbers.
Frank, I saw the corpse. The black
guy was the same dude who was with
Nash. I spent the night with them,
for Christ's sake.
Right. Drunk out of your skull.
Embarrassed, Bedsoe checks his shoes. Moran gets a
20 people were there and nobody
saw a goddamn thing.
That's New York for you.
So tell me about this guy Matunas.
Is he on drugs?
No. Some kind of survival nut.
Yeah. Into guns. Former Marine.
Vietnam. I checked with his
ex-CO. Slightly paranoid, but
propped up in bed, abdomen bandaged.
Tube in his arm. Moran and Bedsoe enter.
How're you doing, kid?
Okay, I guess -- for a guy who got
three feet of steel crammed up his
ass. How're you doin', old man?
Walt says you got a look at the
guy who stuck you, right?
Are you kiddin', man?
Moran shows him a shot of MacLeod.
Come on, Matunas. It was dark in
The freak was stabbing me to
death. I'll never forget his
face. He had a scar right across
And that ain't him.
Moran sags onto the bed.
You don't know grunt about
(sits up painfully)
I got me a .357, a trunkful of
shotguns, three big-bore battle
rifles and ammo out the ass. I
can't protect myself.
I ain't safe -- !
That weirdo with the sword, man.
He got up and stabbed me after I
put enough lead in him to drop a
Don't talk to me about depressed.
Moran rises wearily.
Could you work with an artist and
come up with a picture of the guy?
Moran and Bedsoe head for the door.
I know you think I'm nuts. But
there's something else I gotta
MORAN AND BEDSOE HEADING FOR THE EXIT
Reporters clamor outside.
Just say we got an eyewitness.
That's it. Nothing about sword-
fights in the 20th Century.
(jabs Bedsoe's chest)
Guys glowing in the dark. Or
soldiers crawling around in the
snow at Valley Forge, looking
for Washington's wooden teeth.
Got it, Walt?
They walk into the uproar.
A NEWS VENDOR AT 57TH AND 7TH
Rush-hour crowds buy The Post. A composite of the Kurgan
is front page.
Extra! Cops release Head-Hunter
picture. Head-Hunter revealed.
HAVE YOU SEEN THIS MAN?
lighting candles in St. Patrick's Cathedral.
Beside the altar. Soaring columns, stained-glass win-
dows. People pray. Priests glide about.
For you, my bonnie Heather. Happy
And you, Juan Ramirez.
Take care of her, you overdressed
Moving to an empty pew, he sits silently, lost in the
In front of him, the candles blur. The ceiling starts
to spin. Turning, MacLeod see the Kurgan beside him
in the pew.
He's become a punk-rocker, straightened his hair, dyed
it orange, and put on make-up.
A line of safety-pins dangle from the scar across his
throat. His mocking eyes roam the church.
Kastagir is gone. Only you and I
remain. Chatting together here on
You're revolting. What d'you think
this is -- Hallowe'en?
I am disguised. This way people
will not recognize me.
What do you want?
MacLeod is a coiled spring. 2 MATRONS cross themselves,
heading down the aisle.
And the Prize.
(the matrons pass by)
Happy Hallowe'en ladies!
Scared witless, they leave.
It was destined that the board
would be cleared for the real
I feel something coming from
you. You're trying to conceal
it from me. What is it?
I conceal nothing.
MacLeod's glittering eyes fix on the Kurgan's safety-
Ramirez's blade did not cut
deeply enough. He was right
about you. You're slime.
Ramirez was an effete snob.
He died on his knees.
Gloating, he remembers:
clutching Heather's neck, rising up from the ruins of
MacLeod's 16th century stone house. SCREAMING, she tries
to break free of his grip. It's hopeless.
I took his head and raped his woman
before his body was even cold.
Throwing Heather down, he rips off her clothes. She
CRIES OUT brokenly. There's no one to hear.
eyeballing MacLeod's stricken face in St. Patrick's.
Understanding dawns in his lurid eyes.
I see. Ramirez lied. The woman
was not his. She was yours.
And she never told you. I wonder
why. Perhaps I gave her something
you never could, and secretly she
yearned for my return.
On his feet, MacLeod shakes with fury.
You sick bastard -- !
He lunges for the sword inside his coat. The Kurgan's
hands fly up in mock-horror.
Holy ground, Highlander. Remember
what Ramirez taught you.
You can't stay in here forever.
You're weak, Highlander. You will
always be weaker than I.
I'll be out front. Waiting.
MacLeod leaves by the front doors. Metallic laughter
rings through the church. Worshippers are outraged.
A bald PRIEST confronts the Kurgan.
This is the house of God. People
are trying to pray. You're dis-
The Kurgan kisses the Priest's hand noisily, dropping
to his knees.
Forgive me, father. I am a worm.
Patting the Priest's head for luck, the Kurgan boogies
down the aisle in hobnail boots.
Safety-pins jangling at his throat, he heads for the
He leaps out into the night. The DOOR BANGS. The
Priest crosses himself.
BRENDA GRILLING RACHEL IN NASH'S ANTIQUE SHOP
I want to see him, goddamnit.
I'm afraid that's impossible.
Mr. Nash --
Nash is dead. He died at birth.
Didn't he, Miss Ellenstein.
suddenly SLAMS open the door, seeing Brenda.
What are you doing here?
Looking for a dead guy named Nash.
He died at birth in Syracuse.
MacLeod looks at Brenda. She's done her homework, and
she's not going to leave. He makes a decision.
MACLEOD AND BRENDA ENTERING HIS PRIVATE APARTMENT
She's dumbfounded staring at the opulent surroundings.
He moves to the bar.
Do you want a scotch?
Is is Old?
It's 12 years old. Do you want
some or not?
She nods. He pours drinks, handing her one. Taking
her arm, he leads her down a hall.
MACLEOD AND BRENDA ENTER HIS SILVER ROOM
Her expression changes to awe.
The room is filled with suits of armor, Italian statuettes,
Persian fetishes, and a thousand other oddities from a
The sight is overwhelming.
Astonished, she strolls around, touching artifacts. He
Is that claymore real?
He lets go. Years of isolation melt in the sound of
Brenda runs her hand along the delicate weaving of a
She turns and faces him.
I have been alive for four and a
half centuries. And I cannot die.
Right. And I'm an Amazon princess
sent by Martians to save the world.
He's caressing her with his eyes, confushing her again.
Crossing to a glass table, he picks up an ornate stiletto.
What are you going to do with that?
He offers her the hilt.
Reluctantly, her fingers close over the handle.
Suddenly, MacLeod kneels before her, tearing open his
shirt, exposing his chest.
In one blurred move, he grabs her fist. She tries to drop
the dagger, but his grip is like steel.
I am Conner MacLeod of the Clan
MacLeod. I was born in 1518, in
the village of Glamis, on the
shores of Loch Shiel.
(tightening his grip)
And I am immortal.
In a flash, he pulls her fist forward:
Plunging the stiletto into his heart.
Letting go, she screams. He collapses, moaning.
Freaking out, Brenda watches:
MacLeod pulls the dagger out of his heart.
The wound heals. He stands up. Brenda is lost.
BRENDA AND MACLEOD AT THE DINNER TABLE
She's flushed, excited in the presence of living history.
MacLeod pours brandy, getting comfortable. Brenda watches
him draw on his cigar.
I've got a million questions.
I don't know what to ask first.
I have all the time in the world.
You were with Napoleon at Waterloo.
What was he like?
Short. French. Wore his hat
She spots the silver-frame photo of MacLeod with a
Is this your daughter?
What's her name?
Brenda frowns. Slowly realizing, she points O.S.
You mean that Rachel?
Yes. She was an orphan. I can't
have children. I adopted her.
Over the years, our relationship
has gone through qquite a few changes.
She's old enough to be your mother.
Sometimes she thinks she is.
Rising, he takes the Samurai from the sheath in his coat,
This was forged in 593 B.C.
Metal folded over 200 times.
He enjoys her amazement.
Like finding a 747 a thousand
years before the Wright Brothers
She runs her fingers over the blade.
This belonged to Ramirez?
Reality hits her like a bolt. She's alone with an immortal,
sword forged half-a-century before Christ.
How many men have you killed
Too many. They're all gone.
Except for one.
He kisses her.
MACLEOD AND BRENDA MAKING PASSIONATE LOVE
She grips his scar-covered back. He tastes her face
HEATHER DYING IN THE 16TH CENTURY
MACLEOD AND BRENDA IN BED
Head on his chest, she feels his breathing, stroking
his muscular chest.
You're like the sun, going on
for ever and ever.
The sun will burn out in ten
Then what'll you do -- walk around
in the dark?
He kisses her. She touches his cheek.
Tell me more about Heather.
He frowns, sitting up.
In all these years, she was the
only one you really loved, right?
He bounces out of bed stark naked, deciding to go into
the bathroom. She SHOUTS after him.
And losing her was too painful to
bear -- was that it?
Come on. In every relationship,
somebody has to die first.
Yes, but the survivor doesn't have
to go on forever.
He turns on the SHOWER, FULL-BLAST.
It's not just your body that's
covered in scars. D'you know that?
The shower STOPS. Towel around his waist, he marches out
of the bathroom.
I don't want to talk about this.
I wouldn't want you to spend 10,000
years in a hair shirt if I was Heather.
Doing his best to ignore her, he stacks magazines.
I heard Christiaan Barnard
on TV one time.
Heart guy. He did the first
I don't have heart trouble.
Oh, yes, you do.
Anyway, Barnard's patients always
wanted to live longer. That's why
they came to him. For new hearts.
But he wouldn't give any guarantees.
All he could promise them was
freedom from pain.
What is your point?
My point is, Ramirez was wrong.
Just one year of love. though
it ends in death, is better than
an eternity alone.
Are you making a proposal?
Seductively, she pulls the sheet around her.
Not me. Besides, we've only
Come here a minute.
I want to check your pulse.
He's on her in a flash.
MORAN AND BRENDA WALKING DOWN A HALLWAY
Frank, call off Bedsoe. I don't
need any protection.
You saw Nash at least twice.
They descend stairs in a wave of milling cops.
I was looking for something.
Did you find it?
Moran jams his cigar in his mouth. They arrive at
Brenda, there's stuff going on
in this Head-Hunter case you
wouldn't believe. Nash is
involved somehow. I don't
want you hurt.
I'm okay. I promise.
She smiles, unlocking her office, going inside.
BRENDA AND MACLEOD TOURING THE BRONX ZOO
eating popcorn. They pause at:
THE GIRAFFE ENCLOSURE
He's pensive. she's energized
I had it all laid out. Forensics.
In 3 years, a lectureship at
Columbia. Tenure. Husband, couple
He nods distractedly, eyes riveted on:
A LONE WOLF IN A CAGE
staring at him. The connection between man and beast
is timeless. Their heartbeats and breathing become one.
In his mind, Ramirez's VOICE ECHOES down 400 years:
I had to go on, never again to hear
the sound of her voice, her laughter.
She left behind such a silence.
The wolf turns away. MacLeod's mind reels.
You're not, listening.
Brenda, this isn't going to work.
I can't get involved with someone.
Who said anything about being
Hiding her feelings, she moves to:
BIRDS IN AN AVIARY
Parrots SCREECH. He joins her.
If all you want's an occasional
night together, that's fine with
All around the zoo, wild-life starts to act strangely. Tigers
their cages. Monkeys go crazy. Hyenas attack one another.
Bears try to climb out of their pit. The hairs on the back of
MacLeod's neck stand up. His mind reels.
It's not that simple.
You think I'm going to turn
you in to Moran
From every direction, SHRIEKS, GROWLS, TRUMPETINGS.
Visitors think it's feeding time, but MacLeod knows
eyes are everywhere, searching for the Kurgan.
No, I don't think you'll do that.
He reaches for her hand. She pulls it away.
There's something I want to say.
A happy-faced CLOWN wanders past, selling balloons.
MacLeod's hand is under the shoulder of his coat, gripping
sword, scanning every passing face, searching for his mortal
I love you.
But you're locked away in your
own private world of memories.
No future. Unable to care.
THE KURGAN IN THE CHILDREN'S ENCLOSURE
Surrounded by kids petting sweet, furry things. He
peers through the trees.
AT THE PENGUIN-POOL
Excited kids jostle and SHOUT. MacLeod is in turmoil.
You know what's kind of weird? Most people
are afraid to die. That's not your
problem. You're afraid to live.
Take care of yourself
Don't lose your head.
She turns and walks for the exit.
watches Brenda leave. A KID hands him a rabbit. He
strokes it. It struggles, biting him hard. Flinging
it from him, he takes off.
BRENDA GETS OUT OF HER APARTMENT ELEVATOR
It's dark and late. The building's empty.
Jostling an armful of books, she starts down the corridor.
Turning a corner she suddenly FREEZES.
The books tumble out of her arms onto the floor.
Standing at the end of the corridor, smiling, is the Kurgan,
in black leather, buckles and stomping-boots. His hair is
shaved into an orange mohawk.
The Kurgan starts for her, carrying a huge, broadsword.
Brenda screams and runs for her apartment.
The Kurgan is in no hurry.
Brenda looks back at the Kurgan. Crying in fear, she
frantically tries to get her keys into the lock of her
The Kurgan is nearly upon her.
Brenda throws open the door, runs inside, and locks it.
THE KURGAN hammers his sword deep into the wood of the
He strikes again. And again. Splinters smack
Go away! Oh, God, go away!
Hysterical, Brenda sinks to the floor against her
THE KURGAN stands back and gives the door a last two-
The door collapses.
The hellish figure stands over her in the doorway.
For God's sake...
There is no God. Only me.
A SPEEDING CAR RACES THROUGH THE CITY
The Kurgan takes a cassette from his pocket, slotting
it in. DEAFENING MUSIC fills the car:
It's the KURGAN'S ANTHEM.
Brenda is trying to get her bearings.
MUSIC SHRIEKS, her ears burst. Cars rocket past like
bullets. Speedometer 90 and climbing.
Brenda stares at the Mohawk abortion with his foot to
Stop. Please, stop.
The Kurgan erupts in maniacal laughter.
Brenda hangs on for dear life. Everything's a blur.
Any second, she's going to die.
Engine WHINING, MUSIC POUNDING, eyeballing his captive:
The Kurgan runs chicken down the avenue, not stopping
for red lights.
Flat-out, stopping for nothing, getting his rocks off,
shrieking like a banshee.
In his wake, a maelstrom of wreckage and terror.
ANTHEM BLARING, he flings the Cutlass into the dark
mouth of the Mid-Town Tunnel.
MACLEOD SLUMPED ON A COUCH IN HIS LIVING ROOM
replaying a RECORDED message:
She gave me your number. She
didn't want to at first. Listen.
She's hot, Highlander. I think
she wants me. What part of her
shall I cut off first?
More CRYING. MacLeod shuts it off. Rachel at the
The endless killing has driven
Rising, he puts on his coat and checks his Samurai,
holding her face in his hands.
Rachel, there are some instructions
in the desk drawer. I want you to
follow them. There's a power-of-
attorney for you. You'll have
everything you need.
You're not coming back.
Even if you kill him, you're not
coming back. Are you?
He sits her down, holding her hands.
Sweet Rachel, you always knew
this would happen.
Russell Nash dies tonight. One
way or the other. It's time.
There's no one in my life but
MacLeod gives her a handkerchief.
You still have a lot of life to
A beautiful woman like you
need never be alone or afraid.
He stands up, smiling down at her.
What about Brenda?
He's given me an hour.
He kisses her, hugging her tight.
Goodbye, dearest Rachel. My
daughter. My good friend.
He leaves. Long silence. Tears roll down her cheeks.
Goodbye, Russell Nash.
CONEY ISLAND AMUSEMENT PARK AT NIGHT
Bitter cold. A sign reads:
Breakers pound the beach. WIND HOWLS through the park.
The roller-coaster's a prehistoric monster. Light
flickers from a merry-go-round pavilion.
THE KURGAN ASSEMBLING HIS SWORD
Inside the pavilion, slotting the blade into place.
Sprawled in sawdust, Brenda stares at carved wooden
horses. Shivering, she sits up, trying to figure out
where she is.
The Kurgan looms over her, blade gleaming.
A nice sleep, yes?
She tries to rise. He sets his sword-point at her
One move, whore, and I'll slice
you to bits.
He forces her back. She's freezing and terrified.
You're an animal.
I am Kurgan. Warrior eternal.
I have carved my name in the
flesh of Venetian princes, raped
the daughters of Attila the Hun,
and set ablaze the seven hills
You are nothing. Born and dead
in the blink of my eye.
You are my slave, and will give
me whatever pleasure I demand.
You puffed-up turd. You don't have
She spits at him. He glares in fury.
Come on. Kill me. You're going
to do it anyway.
What's the matter? No balls?
The Kurgan smiles. She's clever, this bitch.
I see. You try to anger me, so
I kill you before you lover
arrives. Then I have no advantage.
I'm nothing to him. Just a roll
in the hay.
Breath billowing, mohawk trembling, he wonders if
that's true. Suddenly he freezes, staring out into
He cares for you. More than you
think. I can feel his approach.
My advantage is real.
Grabbing a hammer, she hurls it at him. He bats it away
with his sword, slapping her across the face.
MacLeod appears, samurai in hand.
The Kurgan drags Brenda up by the hair, hand over her
mouth, blade resting across her neck. MacLeon starts
Stop, or I'll cut her.
Tense as a cobra, MacLeod stops.
Let her go.
I don't think so.
He yanks her head farther back, eyes on the Highlander.
If you care what happens to her.
put down your sword and walk away.
Brenda fights to break his grip. The Kurgan chokes
her. MacLeod puts down his sword.
Very good. Now move.
Kneel down, neck exposed.
Let her go first.
Do you think thousands of years
have made me an idiot?
Kneel -- !
Boiling, he obeys.
Hurling Brenda away from him, the Kurgan swings mur-
derously at MacLeod's exposed neck.
Like a panther, MacLeod rolls, grabs his samurai, and
meets the ROARING BLADE with a THUNDEROUS CLANG and a
shower of sparks.
MacLeod leaps to his feet.
So now it ends. Generation upon
generation. Millions of miles.
Wielding his sword like a scythe, MacLeod attacks,
driving the kurgan back in showers of sparks. BLADES
CLANG in the gloom.
The Kurgan blocks his parries brilliantly. They lock
sword-hilts, face to face.
Kill him! Kill him!
The Kurgan hurls him across the pavilion. He lands
on his back, winded.
Yelling, the Kurgan charges, driving MacLeod out into
the night. Brenda follows fearfully.
A SAVAGE BATTLE RAGING THROUGH THE PARK
Between the reptilian day-glo nightmare and the 466-
Roller-coaster pilings are severed and collapse.
Arcades demolished, ferris-wheel chairs hacked to
bits. Energy crackles all around them.
They battle beneath a huge red wooden fruit. Painted
on it in lurid colors:
FUN IN THE BIG APPLE
Circling, MacLeod's eyes burn into his ancient enemy.
I can sense it again. What I felt
in the church. What are you hiding?
They grapple like primordial beasts, sweat pouring off
It's fear. That's what I feel.
You're afraid of me. Kurgan, you're
afraid of me.
(hurling him back)
That's why you needed the woman.
You didn't think you could take me.
Lies -- !
His rabid eyes can't hide the truth. MacLeod charges
again, wielding Ramirez's sword full-strength.
The Kurgan's arms feel like lead. Gasping, he re-
The icy beach.
MacLeod beating him back.
All these years, I thought I was
running from you. But it was
You're not the perfect warrior.
You're a coward.
MacLeod batters him relentlessly. Each blocked blow
saps Kurgan further.
Beaten, he stands, gulping for air. MacLeod faces him,
samurai poised for another blow.
The Kurgan can't get it up. Brenda's rooted to the
(continuing, to the Kurgan)
For Heather, Ramirez, Kastagir and
all the others I never knew. And
last, for the Highlander MacLeod of
the Clan MacLeod --
He raises his Samurai.
There can be only one.
Blade a WHISTLING blur:
He cuts off the Kurgan's head.
Transfixed, Brenda watches a sparkling energy leave the
corpse and engulf MacLeod. Standing up:
MacLeod glows all hues of the rainbow.
His hair stands on end. Color erupts from his eyes.
He's like a roman candle against the waves. The WIND
Mother of God -- !
Terrified, she tries to touch him. It's like his skin's
What is it -- ?
Glowing, he falls to his knees in the sand.
The Prize. It is the Prize.
Suddenly, everything's still. His eyes probe the darkness.
There's a TERRIFYING EXPLOSION.
Brenda watches MacLeod's body transform into many different
people. His voice ECHOES over the surf.
Everything's alive. The
Quickening overpowers me.
All resistance is gone.
I am generations being born
I am night air, breathing.
The life-force smothers me.
I am all of them.
I can feel everything
She's terrified. His form shifts and changes before her.
Waves CRASH on the beach.
I can feel your love. The blood
in your veins.
He reaches out to her.
Your fear of me.
converging on MacLeod's antique shop.
SIRENS SCREAMING. It's a blazing inferno. Cops hold
back crowds. Firemen direct hoses. Tears in her eyes:
Rachel moves through the crowd.
She's carrying the silver-framed 1952 photo of herself
with Nash. Beams split in cascades of sparks.
stands on the sidewalk. T.V. crews film the blaze.
Cops hold back gawkers behind barriers. Seeing Rachel,
Moran takes her arm.
I'm sorry. We couldn't get him out.
The Head-Hunter got another one tonight.
What was his name?
Some guy named Kruger.
Relieved, she closes her eyes for a moment. MacLeod has won.
Why d'you ask, Miss Ellenstein?
You can call me Rachel if
Rachel's a nice name
She shows it him.
Who's the pretty young girl?
Would you like to get some coffee?
Puzzled, he looks at the photo, then at her. Taking his arm,
walks him off down the street.
Behind them, the inferno RAGES
THREE U.P.S. GUYS
unloading MacLeod's aquarium off a truck.
Reeling under its weight, they stagger up the steps
of a brownstone, ringing the bell repeatedly.
After an eternity, Bedsoe appears in striped pajamas,
rubbing his eyes.
Delivery. Fish. Heavy. Get
out of the way.
Pushing past him with the tank, they disappear inside.
UPS GUY'S VOICE
Where d'you want it?
Wait a minute. There must be some
mistake. I didn't order any fish.
MACLEOD ON THE FAN-TAIL OF A LINER, ALONE
Bright sun, gulls astern. Passengers bask by a pool. Waiters
He stares at the rolling ocean. Everything is different.
power and growing confidence in his eyes.
Brenda appears in a summer dress, carrying glasses and an
bottle. She joins him, setting them on the rail, watching him
A man named Armando Rafael Garcia,
right now, is planning a military
coup in Honduras. Many people may
How do you know?
I can't explain it. I just do.
You mean like when the phone
rings sometimes, and before you
answer, you know who's calling?
Something like that. I'm just
learning about it --
In Paris, Jean-Robert Tousche
and Sylvie Arnaud live in adjoining
(turning to her)
They're deeply in love, but they
never speak to each other.
The breeze stirs her hair. The implications of what he's
What are you going to do
with all this power?
I don't know. I think I can help
the people in Honduras, the lovers
(shakes his head)
I'm not sure how yet. I don't
fully grasp it.
Gulls hang on the wind. Changing mood, Brenda grins, digging
in the ribs.
Before you start saving lives
in Honduras and lovers in Paris,
will you do something for me?
He blinks, focusing on her. His eyes are still magic. She
Yes. What would you like?
Will you take me to Scotland?
I want to see where you were born.
MacLeod is pleased. After all the years he's lived, the miles
travelled, the thought of returning to the place where it all
Are you sure this is what you want?
He strokes her face.
Will you call me Conner MacLeod?
It's my real name. I long to
hear it again.
She tries not to cry. He holds her tight, looking into
her eyes. He knows what she's thinking.
Ramirez was wrong. Just one year
of love is better than an eternity
Composure regained, she grins.
Right. Now it's time for the
She fills the glasses, handing him one.
Plum brandy. 1976.
It was all I could find. Listen,
1976 was a very good year.
America celebrated its 200th year
of independence from England. One
Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest won
five Academy Awards. And
Pittsburgh beat Dallas in the
Is that right?
Yes. 21 to 17.
He cracks up, kissing her eyes, mouth, hair. She
pushes him away.
Wait. I'm not finished. I want
to make a toast.
He smiles, remembering the night at her apartment.
They raise their glasses. She forgets her lines.
How long do we have to stand
Hold it a second. I'm trying
Next second, she's ready. He wonders what's coming.
She looks at him lovingly.
In the sun that is young once only
Time lets me hail and climb
Golden in the heyday of his eyes.
In the moon that is always rising
Time holds me green and dying
Though i sing in my chains
Like the sea.
They clink glasses.
Moved, he drinks. Putting down her glass, she flings
her arms around his neck, kissing him. He responds
You're quite a woman, Brenda
Wyatt. I love you with all
And I love you.
(touching his face.
My Conner MacLeod.
The liner moves away.
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