Bad luck

[Immortal Methos]

"Oh, yeah, definitely out of my mind," Methos muttered, smacking his forehead with the palm of his hand as he watched Phoenix leave. A moment later he pulled out his cell phone and punched in a few numbers.

"Duncan MacLeod," said the deep baritone on the other end.

"I hate you, Highlander," Methos growled into the mouthpiece before ending the connection.

"Metho-?" Duncan managed to get out before he was cut off. Almost immediately Methos' phone was ringing, but the ancient turned it off and let it go to voice mail.

Reaching into the cooler, he pulled out and opened up another beer, the ghost of a smile on his lips.  

[Immortal Ghost]

Phoenix was talking to herself as she made her way to her beat up looking truck, pretty much calling herself insane for agreeing to any of this, but at lest trying to look at the brighter side. Like hey she might honestly pick up a few tricks that won't have her killed as quickly as she first thought, and she had someone to talk to that wasn't a bird that demanded food every ten minutes. With a smile she unlocked the door to her truck, she wasn't good at looking for positive things but sometimes she could, the whole not talking to a bird thing would really nice at any rate. It wasn't till she was in the vehicle that she felt her 'immortal sense' go off and she frowned, that wasn't right, not at all and she sighed and hit her head on the steering wheel.

"I'm going to get my a** killed, damn it." It was muttered but she sadly went to get back out of the truck, "s**t, s**t, and s**t."

(gotta run, be back in like 2 hours)  

[Immortal Methos]

Methos had just started his beer-n-sulk when he felt the buzz of Immortal presance. Stiffening slightly, he muttered, "Can't a bloke sulk in peace these days?"

Standing, he turned to face the doorway, saying, "Another pearl of emo wisdom you forgot to give me before?", then stopped. Instead of Phoenix standing there, the entrance was filled with a large broad-shouldered man, bald on top with a thick wirey red beard. He was slowly swinging a Kosak sword and eyeing Methos with small piggy eyes.

"I come to find a little girl," the man rumbled. "But you are a nice surprise. I am Foster." He brought his sword to ready station, grinning with slightly yellowed teeth.

"Juuuuuust lovely," Methos grumbled, reaching back for the handle of his own sword. "Foster, is it? Or did you mean Foster Butterfield? Don't blame you for forgetting the rest of it."  

[Immortal Ghost]

She was still cursing as she approached the warehouse for the second time that afternoon, she was too nice for her own good, really she was, way to nice for her own good, okay so it rarely showed, but curse it if it wasn't now of all times. She could have driven away, pretended she had been to far away and hadn't known anything, play innocent, but noooo, she was walking back to see what was happening.

"I swear I'm an idiot." She was lest bright enough to not come up from in front, finding another means to slip inside just in time to hear the last bit. "Oh yippie, and here I thought I had a weird name." It was muttered to herself, no use giving random comments and distracting them, nope, no reason at all, she was rather happy to stand off in the shadows and glare, not watch, no, just glare. All she wanted was a nap, that was all, and yet she stood here, off to the side wishing she was anywhere else but there. It wasn't like she knew what to do, say something, and most likely get killed, or stand there and hope Adam didn't get killed? "I hate life."  

[Immortal Methos]

"Bring up your sword, little man," the Immortal known as Foster Butterfield rumbled. "I am challenging you."

"So I gathered," Methos sighed, taking an easy stance. He shuffled his feet a little, as if unsure of himself. "Can I talk you into going away? Really, you've caught me in a bad mood."

Yellow teeth showed through his tangle of beard, a preditory smile. "No," he said. "I like my odds today. So, you have heard of me. But who are you?"

"Nobody important," Methos shot back, but Foster was moving now, swinging his sword in a swift heavy arc that Methos caught on his blade. Sparks flew and the slim form of the ancient nearly went down on his knees, catching himself and turning the larger man's blade aside at what seemed the last moment.

"Weak, boy!" Foster laughed.  

[Immortal Ghost]

She honestly cringed when the guy grinned, did he like not know what a toothbrush was and what it was used for? Phoenix pushed that thought away quickly however, humor was not needed at the moment, she really did cringe with Adam almost went down, "********!" Now that was more than likely loud enough for them to hear and she smacked herself in the head, she was such an idiot and a loudmouth! She still wasn't exactly sure what to do, after all had she just been told some stupid rule about fights were one on one? So it wasn't exactly like she was allowed to interfere, besides what help she be? Oh sure, she could distract the guy, by dieing, past that...  

[Immortal Methos]

Methos fell back, letting the other guy take the offensive, letting Foster believe that he was in a paniced retreat, and Foster rained blows gleefully onto Methos' blade, trying to get through the smaller man's guard by sheer force.

He heard Phoenix's explosive curse and mentally swore a blue streak. The two combatants were too caught up in their own buzzes to note the girl's cautious approach, her own buzz lost in the uproar of battle.

Stay put! Methos mentally ordered her. Playtime is over.

When Methos stopped being an awkward skinny young man, overmatched by Foster's strength and skill, and became the survivor of the Bronze Age, it was as if a switch had been thrown. One moment the two were locked together, crossed blades bringing their faces close, Foster gleeful and Adam wide-eyed with fear, and the next Methos' hazel eyes narrowed and a wicked grin spread across his face.

The move was smooth as butter. Methos pirroted from underneath Foster's sword, leaving the man unbalanced, and drew his sword across the back of his knee, hamstringing him. With a shout, Foster Butterfield crashed clumsily to his knees.  

[Immortal Ghost]

She could have giggled on that, and no, she really wasn't the type of person to do such a thing or even thing about it, but it was oddly amusing and a laugh wasn't working. Phoenix really didn't know why she though any of this amusing, but she found some of the oddest things funny sometimes, most things balanced between annoyance and amusement for her, with very few betweens. She had stayed put, it wasn't like she was suicidal enough to go be of help, nope, she was rather happy staying there, hell if it looked like Adam was going to get killed she would have been out of there faster then anyone could have realized, completely skipping the whole packing stage and just leaving town. As it was she had edged back though was watching with a small hint of interest, mainly amusement though.  

[Immortal Methos]

Foster's beheading was quick and entirely without fanfare or gloating. Methos stood wearily, barely able to raise his sword, as his eyes looked for Phoenix. He couldn't see her, hiding in the shadows, but he could still sense her.

As the first jolts of the coming Quickening hit him, he barely had time to hope he could actually trust Phoenix not to take advantage of this most vulnerable of times as all that Foster Butterfield had been rushed into his body, searing his senses with pain, ecstacy, and knowledge. Methos cried out as he convulsed.  

[Immortal Ghost]

She in fact did have that thought and smirked slightly, but stayed put, if anything moving farther back for the moment, it was so rare to find anyone willing to be kind to her, why go ruin it now, besides he hadn't done anything against her when she had been in bad shape. Only once it was finishing did she move from the shadows, slow steps, really not wanting to startle him, "You do well at acting..." It was a soft statement, she wasn't all that sure he would hear her, but that didn't matter to her either.  

[Immortal Methos]

"One of the tools in a well-stocked toolbox," Methos said, still on his knees. He had his arms wrapped around his chest, his breath coming in short, laboured pants. As he got more under control, the ancient staggered to his feet and eyed Phoenix sternly.

"Aren't you supposed to be home taking a nap?" he tried to scold, but an edge of amusement crept into his tired voice.  

[Immortal Ghost]

"Who needs a nap" She scoffed, "If you fall can I laugh though?" Though she relaxed some when he stood, she hadn't realized that she had been tense in the first place, "Though I'm thinking you need a nap more than I at the moment."  

[Immortal Methos]

"Laugh all you want," Methos growled, picking up his sword and coat, fumbling with the cooler as he tossed the empty beer bottles into it. "I'll just take it out of your hide during your first training session."

He looked around quickly, a note of urgency in his voice. "Make sure we leave nothing behind, and let's get a move on. This place is gonna be a crime scene soon."

Though he was sure Butterfield's Watcher had already called in a Watcher clean-up crew that were just waiting for the surviving Immortals to clear out.  

[Immortal Ghost]

"Of course, cause I mean I've always wanted to spend one of my afternoons with a dead body, sounds so fun, didn't you know that the thing to do now days?" Despite her heavily sarcastic reply she was moving to help, "Here, I can carry the cooler."