THE CHALLENGE: "Write a short scene that takes place in the HIGHLANDER: THE SERIES universe...as if it's been completely taken over by producers who are seeking the much-coveted teen demographic. You can adapt the existing characters if you wish, or introduce completely new ones.

This is satire, folks. Can ya handle it?"

Sweep Kick

It’s springtime in Seacouver, and Joe’s bar is trying its best to drum up new customers. The band practising on the corner stage has a definite modern rock feel to it; amid the noise of tuning up their instruments comes what might be the opening chords of an old Queen song, but it is come and gone too quickly to be sure. The waitresses wandering between the tables are all young and blonde, with much greater "upfront assets" than Alexa ever had. There is a new server behind the bar, equally young, devilishly handsome and using the slow time to practice Cocktail-style tricks to impress the evening patrons. Joe himself, feeling antiquated, is pushed off into a corner, reduced to the status of owner-operator.

The door opens to admit a pair of women, who pause cautiously at the entrance. Despite the warm dry weather, they are both dressed in long raincoats, buttoned to the top. It would take more than a trench coat, though, to hide either woman’s attractiveness, the phrase "drop dead gorgeous" springs to mind. There is a resounding crash as our Tom Cruise wannabe drops a bottle. Dawson steps forward quickly, waving the young bartender aside and gesturing him to clean up the mess. He recognises the ladies immediately, greeting them with a warm, friendly smile.

The two lovely ladies are quite obviously Amanda and Cassandra. It looks as if they have been having a Girls Day Out, though neither one of them seems happy. Joe knows that something is wrong: between the two of them there is only one shopping bag, and it isn’t even full. The pair don’t even bother to scan for an empty table; they both drop wearily onto stools right at the bar. "I need a drink," moans Cassandra. "I don’t care what." Amanda orders a brandy, pauses and then changes it to a Scotch. Joe quickly produces a bottle and two glasses. "Trouble, ladies?" he asks innocently.

The two women exchange glances; a decision is made and Amanda speaks first. "Dawson, old friend, trouble doesn’t even begin to describe it. I’ve been having a week like you wouldn’t believe. First of all, I wake up one morning and find that my entire wardrobe has been switched. Every closet was suddenly, inexplicably filled with things like this." She flips up one corner of her long coat, revealing a hot pink latex mini-skirt that looks as if it had been painted on. She quickly covers up the view, turning pink herself. "I ask you, how am I supposed to blend into crowds looking like that?"

Dawson tries, and fails, to hide a smile. "Oh, I don’t know about that. It depends entirely what crowd you choose to join."

Cassandra half-turns in her seat and gesturing with her glass starts her own complaint. "At least you still have clothes. I’ve had more combat in the last week than I have in the previous thousand years. And I haven’t had a single scrap of clothing survive. If it doesn’t get shredded in the fight, then the Quickening takes care of it. Just the other day, I was taking a pleasant walk in a public park. The weather was warm; it hadn’t rained for days. From out of nowhere a female Immortal whom I’ve never met steps out and challenges me. Within five minutes, we’re wrestling on the ground like animals—in mud! I tell you, it’s not normal; and that’s a lot coming from a witch."

Dawson frowns thoughtfully, beginning to suspect something. He turns back to Amanda to see if she has anything to add. She sighs loudly. "I’ve never really liked fighting, but I’d almost rather have your problem, Dear, than what I’ve been going through. I left Nick a couple of weeks ago. No reason whatsoever; even I don’t know why we broke up. All of the sudden, I’m back in the dating scene again; I’m not even sure if I would call it ‘dating’. One night stands, cheap thrills, motels that charge by the hour…these are all things that would usually be beneath my dignity; and even I’ve never been this bad when it comes to choosing a partner. One day an attractive man, the next someone I wouldn’t normally give a second glance. Mortals, Immortals; young, old; some of them barely old enough to shave. And I can’t for the life of me explain why I’m doing it."

Dawson nods sagely, despite the fact that he is at least a thousand years younger than the ladies he is advising. "And this started, when, late February, early March?" The women confirm with silent nods. "It sounds to me like you both have a bad case of Sweeps."

"Sweeps?" they ask in harmony.

"Well, that’s what the Watchers are starting to call it anyway. We’ve been noticing it for quite a few years now, though no one can explain it. In the early spring, and sometimes again in late fall, the most bizarre and outrageous things start happening to Immortals and the people around them. Many of these events make no logical sense whatsoever; some of them are downright embarrassing. Often we end up toning down the Chronicles in question, just out of respect. After a while though, everything settles down again and it’s as if nothing had happened."

Amanda licks her perfect lips nervously. "And how long do these…sweeps…usually last?"

Joe shrugs; "It varies. Anywhere from a few weeks to a couple of months."

"A few weeks?" Cassandra moans. "A couple of months?" Amanda squeaks.

Dawson nods sympathetically. "You know, there’s one Watcher in particular who’s been making a study of this phenomena; trying to find a pattern in it. Actually, he started off doing it alone, but now it’s become more of a group project. Would you be willing to let me tell your stories?"

The two ladies exchange long looks before nodding reluctantly. "Sure," Cassandra sighs. "Maybe the sacrifice of our dignity will benefit others."

Dawson quickly excuses himself and heads toward the phone. On the way, he is muttering to himself, "Yes indeed, the Nielsons are going to want to hear about this…."


Not much to say here, just an opportunity for me to be as silly as I want. Plus it had been a while since I'd written anything with Dawson in it. He does that "bartender psychology" thing soooo well.
 
 
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