Intro: "...like the Eagles, but way less country..."

[Johnny x F x]

Johnny was up by fifty when his cel finally buzzed in his shirt pocket. He signaled to stand as he flipped it open.

"Javier, my man... Que paso? You're way late, amigo."

The voice on the other end sounded slightly strained, a bit hoarse, as he made his excuses. This was most unusual given the spaniard's usually collected demeanor.

"Fine, fine. I'll be right-," he started a bit louder, then said much softer "I'll be right down," maybe a bit conspicuously. He was getting a bad feeling about this, and figured maybe if he acted like he had something to hide someone would follow him. He didn't think anyone had time to get here before him, considering the abruptness of his change of plans, but he wasn't taking any chances. Who knew? Maybe his demise wouldn't be so private and when his friends came looking for him they'd have a place to start looking...

He stood and placed his napkin over his drink as he asked the dealer to hold his place. Hands in his pockets, he sauntered off towards that service exit, assuming a kind of nervously nonchalant gait...  

[Immortal Methos]

"It's that yet that worries me," Methos rolled his eyes.

Ever aware of his surroundings, he noted Johnny answering his cell phone, then walking out in an attempt to look casual. Somebody just got some bad news, he thought.  

[Johnny x F x]

Elsewhere...

With a sigh, Javier closed his own phone and pressed his head back against the headrest where he sat in the driver's seat of his brand new BMW. This was a shitty thing to do, especially to a man who had been as good a client as this one, but a man in Javier's position learned quickly the meaning of accommodation and compromise.

It was done now, or everything but. He didn't know why this Roland fellow wanted his client so badly, but the feel of the cavalry saber against his unblemished skin had been all the convincing he needed to realize that this man was deadly serious. He shivered now at the memory, beads of sweat marring his pristine complexion. He gulped and checked his cargo for the millionth time. He may be a rat setting up his best employer, but at least this last job would be completed as promised.

He only hoped that Johnny lived long enough to accept an apology...  

[Johnny x F x]

Flashback...:

He'd been in this town (on his days off from his studies) for fifty some years, and their superstitious nature never ceased to amaze him, especially along the docks, where he had ended up after making a gracious (if hasty) exit from the downtown scene. The Doc, Byron, and what's his name were far from his mind as he stumbled in the vague direction of home.

As he rounded a corner, he bumped square into an officer in her royal majesty's navy out on a routine patrol. The gentleman had been in mid rebuke to one of his accompanying troops when Johnny plowed into them, all four men falling to the mud. Johnny barely kept his feet, catching himself on the wall and mumbled an excuse as he attempted to saunter past (though in reality he merelycontinued to lean against the wall as he made his slow way forward, supporting himself with his face and shoulder). These men were having none of it though.

With a great amount of cussing, they pulled each other to their feet and drew their cutlasses, hurrying to surround a reluctant and groggy Kinslayer. With an effort he forced himself upright and took a deep breath... his golden eyes caught the light under his half-closed lids and when he opened them on the exhale, he was obviously ten times more coherent than a heartbeat ago.

"Gentlemen, gentle men, my most humble apologies," he began eloquently before slipping slightly as he took a cautious step onward... damn, i must have been DRUNK, he thought as he rested his hand on his sword hilt.

"Yew've got a funny accent," said the captain who, ironically, had the heaviest birmie accent imaginable."And christ do you smell awful...." The keen-eyed man stepped forward, levelling his cutlass at Johnny's chest. No, I don't like the look of you at all." He spat into the mud at Johnny's feet then, and squinted slightly, waiting for it...

"my good man, i apologized, but i am in a hurry to get home..."

As he tried to step away again, the captain flicked his blade up under his chin, effectively halting progress.

"Speak wif your high tongue if you want, but oi recognize a filthy nyew world savage when oi see one... Least on your mum's side." Seeing Johnny's eyes narrow slightly, he smiled cruelly and continued."Yeah... I see your shayme... is that it? Was your mover a stinking savage whore?"

"Sir, I recommend you put your sword UP, and let me pass," Johnny stated coldly, turning square to face the captain and his men, the man's sword resting on his right shoulder. He folded his arms and glared hate...

Presently...

As the service door swung back and forth behind him, Johnny wondered why he should remember that night so freshly...  

[Gaston Marceau]

Gaston has to laugh at the comments from Methos. "Ha! Adam, you give me a lot of grief for one who taught me to never start something but always finish it. Anytime I do something to someone, it is rarely undeserved."

It's about at that time that Johnny makes his rather quick getaway. "He sure left in a hurry for one getting ahead at the tables." He glances back at Methos. "Trouble, you think? If it is, it's one you won't be able to blame on me, you realize..."  

[Immortal Methos]

"Everybody gets lucky once in a while," Methos quipped back. His eyes followed Johnny's retreat. "You realize this is none of our business, don't you?"  

[Gaston Marceau]

Gaston nods easily at that. "Of course it's none of our business...rules, the Gathering, all that jazz." He glances back at the older man after another sip of Hurricane. "We're both going anyway, aren't we?"  

[Johnny x F x]

Past rooms with tables and chairs, refrigerators, microvaves and vending machines, where off-the-clock employees sat around sharing the latest gossip, offices with unhappy desks and unhappy bosses sitting behind them grumbling into this phone or over that paper, locker room and bathrooms with people getting ready for the next shift, Johnny held his head high and walked unhurriedly. He had come to the conclusion that as long as you acted like you were doing what you were supposed to be doing, no one gave you a second glance... At the end of the hall was an elevator, next to it a slate grey door with a tiny rectangular window, the kind with mesh between the layers of glass and a crash bar for speedy exit.

He hesitated only a second, swinging the door wide (so it would close more slowly) and vaguely hoping someone was having trouble minding their own business. If this was the trap it felt like, having a third party involved, even if just as an observer, would probably work in his favor...

Yeah, it was kind of a gamble, but Johnny LIKED gambling...  

[Immortal Methos]

Methos rolled his eyes at Gaston. "Do you have any idea how hard it is to stay in character around you?" he groused. "You're almost as bad as..." All right, almost. No one beat MacLeod out for the title of Nosey Parker. Not even Gaston.

"Never mind," he sighed. "Lead on."  

[Gaston Marceau]

Gaston chuckles and claps his mentor on the back. "An Immortal I bumped into a while back...whose name I have conveniently forgotten...once said that sometimes you have to do more than just watch. A good point there."

He starts to lead the way following Kinslayer's path. "On the bright side, I'm on the clock...which means, you don't have to worry about shotguns." Granted, if Gaston has told Methos anything about what working with Balance entails, the older man will suddenly understand that in addition to his sword, Gaston is carrying at least one automatic weapon under that duster...  

[Johnny x F x]

Down three brief flights of stairs to the second sub-level of the parking lot, Johnny paused at a door identical to the one he'd entered the stairway by.

"Second level down, f section," he mumbled, pushing the door open slowly (once more pushing it all the way open so it closed more slowly). In front of him was A and B sections, meaning F was somewhere in the complex behind him... walking around the elevator/stair shafts, Johnny took his time as a sense of doom settled on his shoulders. Physically shaking it off, Johnny centered himself. This was no time for heebie-jeebies, and even if it was a trap, he didn't see any choice but to walk into it and get what he needed.

The soft click of his boots was the only sound tonight...  

[Immortal Methos]

"That's why I'm staying behind you," Methos said dryly, his own semi-automatic pistol a comforting weight in his pocket.

As they followed in Johnny's wake, an elevator door opened on a tall dark gentleman dressed in the very latest style of tuxedo and long coat fashion, gleaming dark hair held back by a silver clasp done in celtic knotwork design. He was too far away to pick up the Immortal signature, but his quick dark eyes immediately spotted one very young looking Old Man hurring along with a stranger. There was a sense of urgency about Methos that MacLeod didn't like -- the ancient had a tendancy to run into old aquaintances that were nothing but bad news.

Moving quickly, the Scot followed after.  

[Johnny x F x]

Roland Caldwell stood rigidly in the shadows of the parking garage, his sabre unsheathed but held down at his side. A member of the "Trenchcoat Brigade", his long black coat hung motionless in the stale air smelling of car exhaust and grease. A hundred yards to the left, Phillip waited in the van to make a hasty getaway if necessary... He had been irked at being made to wait in the car, but the lad had to understand that the Game was played one-on-one for a reason.

Some fifty yards ahead of him, Javier sat waiting for Johnny to show up, lighting another cigarette off the butt he'd just finished. Roland smiled to himself as he thought of how easy the spaniard had buckled at the vaguest threat... It hadn't even bene necessary to kidnap his family or torture him or anything... Kinslayer, Fathom, or whatever he was calling himself these days, certainly wasn't very picky in who he chose to befriend... Just as he wasn't picky about who he chose to kill. Roland idly wondered if he actually HAD killed his kin to earn that name...

Any minute now... any minute now...  

[Johnny x F x]

Johnny spotted Javier's car ahead and swerved slightly to aim towards it... casting a discreet glance around, he looked to see if he was as good a judge of character as he felt.  

[Gaston Marceau]

As he walked along beside his ever cranky mentor, Gaston tapped the bud in his ear. "Hawk...it's Marceau. Might be something going on downstairs in the garage. Might not have anything to do with us, but I'll check it out nonetheless."

The Highlander's oursuit still goes unnoticed for now, but in preparation for nastiness, Gaston discreetly reaches into his coat, taking the safety off his P90 and undoing the strap that'll free his sword from the scabbard just in case they're needed.

Soon, they're at the entrance to the garage. "Subtlety would probably be wise, neh?" Gaston starts looking at a way to sneak into the garage where they can observe undetected...