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<br/>
<span style="font-size: 12px">"There Can Only Be One"<br/>
<a class="link link--external" data-proxy-href="/proxy.php?link=https%3A%2F%2Fyoutu.be%2F_pgWkHHq_Kw&amp;hash=6c4bc4293334a3a62d0d26a78f539091" href="https://youtu.be/_pgWkHHq_Kw" rel="nofollow ugc noopener" target="_blank">Theme</a></span><br/>​</div>It had been an old pub, off of Bowers Street, that people knew of his kind tended to congregate and gather news of the those who were counted among his kind when he first learned that someone was Hunting him again. How long had it been now? Forty three years since the last time an Immortal had found him. Nineteen seventy five. A good year for most people. The War in Vietnam was ending and people were celebrating. Nero would have been too if not for the blood of one of his kind that ended up staining his blade. He could still remember it vividly; a head spinning off to land in a swamp outside the city of New Orleans a dismal low point.<br/><br/>He smirked and took another long drag of his cigarette. Oh yes. Yet another dead body in a wake miles long by now. How many had Nero killed now? Dozens of the other<div class="bbm_float fright" style="float:right;margin:0 0 5px 10px">
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</div>Immortals? He had stopped counting the short-lived. In the great game that last centuries, they no longer really were counted by their kind were they? Merely obstacles to be knocked out of the way in their quest to become the One!<br/><br/>He put out the cigarette on the glass that separated him from the rain coming down on the New York City skyline. It was a bad habit after all.<i>Could harm your health</i>, he thought sardonically. He stepped away from the glass to view his penthouse with distant eyes. Yet one more home to go along with all the others he held around the world. When someone lived forever, it allowed them to acquire untold amounts of wealth and Nero had done well in establishing himself in the corporate world behind multiple pseudonyms and identities, all designed to act as a means of gathering and funneling wealth in to accounts that he could access.<br/><br/>It meant nothing though if this Immortal was allowed to take his head. He strode away from the glass and made his way downstairs to a secret chamber set next to his office. Hidden behind a bookcase, the room was small and contained ancient relics from his thousands of years of life adorning the walls. Weapons of honored foes mostly but other items he had found of particular interest. The main feature was a simple oak table. Placed on a velvet cover were two swords, lovingly tended and cared for. His<a class="link link--external" data-proxy-href="/proxy.php?link=https%3A%2F%2Fimgur.com%2FcWKS3Rr&amp;hash=88329776821c4cc167f624c75fca0316" href="https://imgur.com/cWKS3Rr" rel="nofollow ugc noopener" target="_blank">weapons</a>. His tools of trade. He ran a hand over the length of one of them lovingly. He had used them all those years ago serving in the 14th Legion as a Centurion. And they had served him well since.<br/><br/>He would not wait idly by and allow this Hunter to find him, no. He would find them and end them first. Luckily, the length of the blades made them easily hidden. Double sheaths strapped across his chest allowed him to draw them from his back and a heavy cloak over his body concealed both from view. While a clock in this modern age might raise an eyebrow, in a city of nine million it would be but one eccentricity among thousands of others. They were not the only weapons he would go with. On his person, he secreted a number of knives and blades that could not kill his opponent but would hinder them nonetheless. He had learned to take every advantage he could in this fight.<br/><br/>He then made his way out on to the streets, dressed practically in jeans and simple black shirt, hood drawn up, as he began to wander the streets. At this time of day, people were beginning to head indoors and the streets were steadily becoming emptier of foot traffic. It served his needs well as he allowed his senses to guide him to his target.<br/><br/>He spent hours wandering the streets, boots silent on the pavement as the rain continued unabated. Dusk had come and gone with night settling over the city like a burial shroud. He had yet to find his prey but he knew he was getting close to them. He could smell them on the air, a whiff of agelessness and murderous intent a heady musk over the stink of the mortal city.