Highlander: The Series

Here we are, born to be kings.

We're the princes of the universe.

Yeah!

I am immortal.

I have inside me blood of kings.

Yeah!

I have no rival.

No man can be my equal.

Take me to the future of your world!

Check it out.

One night only.

Everything must go.

I feel something.

I hope so.

No.

Someone's here.

I didn't hear anything.

Neither

did I. -Mac.

Duncan, be careful.

Whoosh!

En garde, you fool.

Whoosh!

-I am Duncan MacLeod of the clan MacLeod.

And you are dead.

Uh, dead?

Whoa.

Uh.

Jeez, I--

I ripped off a couple cups and a bowl.

I'm sorry, all right?

Here, take them.

They're all in the bag.

I'll--

I'll pay for the window.

It's over.

OK?

-It's over when I cut off your head.

Cut off my head?

You don't think that's, uh, a little

extreme for petty theft?

Hey-- hey dude, chill.

Your insurance will cover it.

Mac.

He's just a boy.

You know what?

You should call the police.

In fact, I tell you what, I'll call them myself.

Got a phone?

There's someone--

Yah!

Whoa!

I'm on, like, uh, "America's Funniest Home Videos," right?

MacLeod!

I'm Slan Quince, and I've come for your head.

-This is, uh, very un-cool, guys.

-We haven't been properly introduced.

But you'll get to know me, my dear.

Mac!

-Did you come to fight or talk?

-He's not going to fight you, Duncan.

Not until he's made you suffer.

Until he's destroyed everything you

love in this world.

Until you don't know whether you want to live or die.

That's your way, right, Slan?

-Connor, what are you doing here?

Head-hunting.

Sorry, Duncan, but this one's mine.

-Man, these guys are out there.

Let the boy go.

-My challenge was to Duncan MacLeod, not

you, whoever you are.

I'm Connor MacLeod--

same clan, different vintage.

Ah, yes.

You!

Hey!

Not two against one.

Tsk, tsk, tsk.

-Thanks, Slan, I know the rules.

You and me, now.

-It sounds to me like we're about to

have company, gentlemen.

I just wanted to meet the charming lady of the house.

Ha! 'Til we meet again.

You look good.

-All right, this puppy is gonna walk.

-Hi, I was asked to come in and identify a boy who broke

into my store last night.

Richie Ryan?

If that's his name, yeah.

Look, I don't understand.

We caught this kid.

We can make a good case against him, but not if you

don't press charges.

Sorry, no charges.

-Look, let me tell you something.

This punk is trying to get off the hook by saying he

didn't break in.

That he heard a disturbance, looked inside.

He saw three men with drawn swords having it out.

-Did he also see a guy in a bat costume

and, uh, a long cape?

OK, OK.

Anyway.

Now, he had jewelry from your shop in his pocket when we

nabbed him running from the scene.

We got him dead to rights.

Sorry.

Can I talk to him before you let him go?

-You're sort of a Father Flanagan "there's no such

thing as a bad boy" kind of guy, aren't you?

Look, let me set you straight on something.

You talk, he walks.

He hasn't learned a thing.

This boy needs to do a little time in juvie to

straighten him out.

Next month, he turns 18.

His next visit here?

Oh, he gets processed through as an adult.

He gets sent to the big house, where the cons will pass him

around for dessert.

Think about it.

Come here.

This gentleman would like to talk to you.

Now, you give me one excuse to bust your butt while you're

still here and you'll do 10 on the taxpayers' money, punk.

Got it?

Oh.

Yes, sir, Sgt. Powell.

I certainly do, sir!

He's all yours.

-Honestly, sir, I really do appreciate this second chance

you're going to give me to become a

useful member of society.

-If I let you out of here, I do not want anyone coming

around asking about your little fantasies.

That is the deal.

-"Fantasies." Oh, you mean like the one where you and the

Knights of the Round Table were, uh--

Right?

Never saw a thing.

Just, uh, made it all up.

I know, I'm fast.

All my teachers said so.

Fast, but lazy.

My lips are sealed.

Word of honor.

-Besides, who would I tell, you know?

-So you liberated this wine from Napoleon's

own cellar, I suppose.

No.

This wine's only a little bit older than you are.

Happy birthday.

Oh!

Oh Mac, you're crazy.

-Just something I picked up during the French Revolution.

-From now on, I only celebrate un-birthdays,

like the Mad Hatter.

You're beautiful.

Huh.

I'm a year older.

And still beautiful.

-When we met, you were the older man.

Much.

-I mean, now we look the same age.

Soon--

Come here.

Tessa, you're the most wonderful woman I've known in

my entire life.

All 400 years?

I'm not 400.

Why, I won't be 400 for, uh, another four months.

-The problem is, even when you are 400 or 420, you

will still look 35.

It makes me sick.

Good skin runs in my family.

There's nothing I can do about it.

-From now on, every year you'll look at me and see

someone who looks older and older than you, while

you stay the same.

And it'll just be a matter of time until you want someone

else.

No.

Or maybe I will.

You'll want someone younger?

Not exactly hard to find.

No.

Maybe I'll want someone I can grow old with.

-You know, I've wanted the same thing--

to grow old with you.

Mac.

I know there have been others--

other loves.