[ WP ] A time traveller and an immortal meet across the age , they are bitter enemies .

`` You! I finally tracked you down you bastard!'' I heard the man's voice yell out beside me, as he grabbed me by the lapel of my coat jacket and pushed me against the brick wall. My shoulders hit first as my head tilted back and followed suit. The trauma was disorienting, yet I felt the man's blow to my stomach. 
 
 I fell on the cobblestone, curled up, coughing. Before I knew it, this man whom I've never met before in my life, began beating me within an inch of my life. I look beyond, seeing the the faces of passers-by watching my predicament. Some of them horrified, most, indifferent. But none intervened. 
 
 The beating stopped as swiftly as it was doled out, but not before I felt the sharp pain on my side, and another, and another. I could see the blood start flowing on the pavement as the man continued stabbing me. I believe he stopped as soon as he felt satisfied with what he had done. He pushed me on the shoulder and rolled me on my back. 
 
 I got a look at his face, I remembered every single detail, his jet black hair, his cleft chin, down to the scar that ran from his forehead, past his defunct right eye, down to his cheek. His left eye grew a bright amber, as if his fire for vengeance was being fueled by what he had just committed. But why? Could it be a mistake? What could I have done to receive such an vengeful attack? 
 
 He leaned over, put his face right in front of mine as I coughed blood, and he said to me `` I guess I wo n't be seeing you in Montreal.'' he smiled as he plunged the knife into my chest, a final blow. It was then, and only then, had the authorities arrived, and dragged him away. I looked down and I could see the knife still sticking out of me. If I did n't pull it out immediately, I might not wake up until the coroner pulls it out himself. 
 
 I do n't want another Lazarus situation to deal with. I muster up my strength and in extreme agony, I pull out the knife. It was in no way an ordinary knife, one that may have been intended for me, or at least whoever he thought I was. The blade was a perfectly cut piece of pitch black obsidian. 
 
 I slipped out of consciousness and woke up days later. Had it not been for my special condition, I would have died right then and there. The details of the harrowing attack are still with me, and will continue to be with me for the rest of my life, however long that will be. He had escaped the cell he was supposed to rot in for what he did to me, and I will never forget his face until I have gotten revenge of my own, for I will not let that man die of old age. 
 
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 One hundred and fifty years, One hundred and fifty years since that random attack in England that left me bloodied and in agony, and I have still not forgotten his face. How could I? For he is standing right in front of me. Very few things have earned my devotion as this man had, I had spent decades in Montreal trying to find him, or at the very least, the reason for his brutal actions. 
 
 I settled down here in the new world when I decided that enough time had passed that the search became futile. Yet here he is, right in front of me, and all this time I thought I was the only one. The same Jet black hair, same rugged chin, and amber bright eyes. Another Immortal, right before me. I do not know what came over me, but the haunting of my past took control of my actions here, in the present. 
 
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 It was a chilly night in the streets of Montreal when the man approached me. He had an awfully unusual demeanor about him that worried me from the beginning. He spoke to me as if he knew me, yet gave no indication that he did. Perhaps, I thought, he was a man I had yet to truly meet. I was correct, quite horribly so. 
 
 At first he was uneasy, suspicious as he tried to make small talk. But as time went on, his voice became steadier, tone became darker, fists gripped tighter. I excused myself, wishing to avoid a brawl, especially one with a man which I have yet to meet, but has clearly before met me. I had confirmed this as soon as he said to me `` You do n't remember me, do you?''. But by then it was too late. 
 
 He jabbed me right in the throat, I wanted to puke. Before I could do anything, the man grabbed me and threw me into the alleyway. All the while, I am thinking of how I could have avoided this, or how I could avoid this. This was not the first time that the consequences of my future resonated into my present, but this, this was much more different. This is not a lover who believes they are seeing a ghost of the past, this is not a favor given to me by a friend whom I've yet to befriend. This was violent, brutal, primitive. 
 
 He stood up in front of me and leaned down. The moonlight and flickering street lamps were more than enough for me to truly discern his face. I am sure that I will be meeting him again, else this would not be happening right now. I feel my body aching all over, yet nothing was more terrifying as the moment he smiled and pulled out a knife, a knife that could only be seen when reflecting the moonlight, as it was as dark as the night itself. 
 
 `` I do n't know how you did it.'' he said to me. `` removing scars is a difficult task, healing an eye is n't easy either. No matter,'' he said with insidious intent, `` I'll give it back to you.'' 
 
 He pointed the tip of the blade on my forehead and traced it downward, blinding my right eye and cutting my cheek. The sharp pain that ran through my face caused me to yell out so loud that I could have woken up the entire town, and probably so. When the pain became barely manageable, he was gone, just like that. Of all the people I have met in the past and in the present, he was the most vivid. Even though I know I will be seeing him again, all that was in my mind was vengeance. But now with what has happened, I also know I can not stay in Montreal anymore. I will have to track him down elsewhere. 
 
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 A century and a half apart was the gap between my bloody encounter and my second encounter with him, though probably for him this is his first. I was n't even looking for him anymore, I concluded that what happened to me was probably something of consequence to what I had done. I decided to stop searching, for time is a precious thing to be wasted on a grudge. But seeing him, alive, in a time where he should n't even exist, It changed everything. Now might be the only time I get true vengeance, for it is near impossible to ever track down another time traveler.
