Last revised: 09/05/99

You can find basic background info on Highlander: the Series at:

http://www.rysher.com/highlander/theseries/index.html

You can find more info than you can imagine on Methos at:

http://home.att.net/~fanomethos/Methos.html

A slender, wiry man wearing a trenchcoat briskly made his way down the dark city street. He didn't rush, but he didn't linger either. This particular part of town has a nasty reputation -- screams and gunfire was nothing unusual. He would have much rather preferred to spend his time in much more refined surroundings, but unfortunately, he had business that simply couldn't wait.

A loud argument outside one of the numerous tawdry nightclubs showed every sign of escalating into a small riot, so he prudently ducked into an alleyway in hopes of avoiding the whole mess.

Suddenly he froze as an unforgettable buzz-tingle ran through his head. His lips thinned. He *knew* he couldn't be the only one left -- the Game continued on -- but it had been nearly a decade since he had felt the unmistakable presence of one of his kind.

Over the long centuries, he had gotten very good at figuring out the nuances of that special feeling. Whoever the other one out there was, that person was getting closer. To make matters even worse, the other was definitely powerful and no beginner at the Game.

As for himself, *he* was badly out of practice.

The man slid his hand into his trenchcoat and quickly scanned the murky alleyway as he began to retreat back toward the street. He hadn't survived this long by relying just on brute force. Getting caught in a riot would be infinitely preferable to losing his head.

He turned around only to be confronted by a short, slim figure stepping out of the shadows.

(Shit!) He hadn't heard the guy sneaking up behind him. That wasn't good.

From the height and build, the other person was either a short woman and/or a teenager. That realization didn't stop his hand from closing on the hilt of his sword. However, he *was* startled to catch the dull gleaming barrel of a large caliber gun as his opponent calmly raised his hand and fired.

There was a low roar and a blinding flash as three bullets hit him square in the chest and sent him staggering. The last thing he felt was the sensation of cold, damp concrete against his cheek and a rush of hot liquid seeping through his shirt.

Sometime later, he twitched awake and abruptly opened his eyes to find himself lying on the dusty floor of an abandoned building.

(I'm alive...!) he thought in amazement. He never expected to wake up again. Nearby movement caught his eye and he glanced upward to see the gleam of bright violet eyes staring down at him... and yes, he saw that the teenaged boy next to him *still* had that ridiculously long braid of chestnut hair.

"Oi! Long time, no see, Methos!" Duo Maxwell chirped with a cheeky grin as he knelt beside the man he had just repeatedly and fatally shot.

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