In a dingy basement two men in sweats stood on a worn wrestling mat. The first one, his blond hair underneath the rag on top of his head, held a wooden kendo stick in his hands tightly before him. The second, while looking the same age as the other, held his somewhat loosely in his right as he ran his other hand through his long brown hair. He noted the beads of sweat on the other man forehead, and tried not to show his amusement. The young man would probably crap his shit the first time he had to do this for real at this point. The first man came at him, telegraphing his attack all the way. The other easily knocked the stick away and put his by the others neck. "Think boyo," he said. The young man nodded, took a step back and got ready again. He came at him a little slower this time. This time the other one blocked a few strikes, attacked once and put the stick by his neck again. "Now you're thinking too much." They started again, this time the young one tried to be a little more aggressive and unpredictable. He found his stick flying and once again the others' stick at his neck, "Now you're back to not thinking enough."

"Some of us haven't been around three hundred years," The young man said frustrated.

"Three fifty," he corrected. "And age has nothing to do with it. Practice and experience Keith, nothing more. And age doesn't equal experience before you start arguing"

Grabbing his kendo stick he reluctantly tried it again. "I still say we should be doing this with the real thing."

"Oh you do?", he said with a amused look. One more time they took their position and clashed their kendo sticks. The older man again blocked, occasionally attacking where he saw an opening. He felt a little proud as the younger man was able to block in time. That made him feel a little more confident in his ability and went in harder at his mentor. The older man waited for the right time to break through his defense, got behind him and intentionally whacked the stick against his neck. The young man yelped in protest as he held his neck. "That's why we're not using actual swords, because accidents happen and I have no plans on losing my head to a person a just few months from his first death."

"That hurt," Keith said as he continued to hold his neck. "That is so leaving a mark."

"It'll be gone before the nights over so quite crying like a baby." He took the stick off the floor before Keith could. "There is a reason why we're practicing. So you can stay alive for as long as possible. Because the moment you lose this," he tapped him on top of the head with the stick, "is the moment it's over for good. There ain't no coming back."

"You keep telling me that," Keith said as he tore the rag off his head. "I get it Owen, alright? There no point to keep repeating it."

"It's a reminder of who we are boyo," Owen said while placing a hand on his shoulder. "None of us know when the Gathering is going to happen. We have to stay alive until then." He glanced over his shoulder at the clock behind him, "Go and hit the shower, I told him we'd be out of here by nine."

Twenty minutes later they were dressed in their street clothes and headed up the stairs. Owen greeted the preacher standing at the top of it waiting for them. "Thanks for letting us use the facilities again Father."

"No problem at all Owen," he said as he let them pass. "Although I do wish you would come here for more than just practice and to confess your particular sins."

"Holy ground is the best place to prepare him Father," Owen reminded him, "and I need to live with a clear conscious. But how about we meet up for coffee sometime this week?"

"It be my pleasure my boy," he agreed. "It'd be nice to reminisce about old times with somebody who actually lived and remembers them."

"Even if he doesn't look it," Keith smirked. Owen promptly smacked him in the head, "Ow."

"Show some respect in a church boyo. Didn't anybody teach you any better?"

"It's alright Owen," the Father said. "No harm done, well to me anyway. You on the other hand…," he trailed off smirking.

"See you later Father," he laughed it off and he and Keith left the church and headed off. They talked on the way about various things. All of the sudden his charge looked thoughtful.

"Owen," he asked, "what are you going to do with the Prize if you win it?"

"None of us know what it is," he reminded him. "So I have no idea what I'm going to do. But try not to worry about it too much. Just live your life as best you can. Because before you know you'll meet up with somebody wanting to take you head to increase their own power." They went another block before the buzz hit them. A small, tingly feeling that started in the back of your head then slammed in you in the gut that told you another immortal was near. This was the point you started praying to any deity who would actually listen that who you were feeling was a friend in a really good mood. Keith still wasn't that used to it yet so he started panicking a little. Owens' hand went for the sword in his bag as he looked around until he found the other immortal. Then he smiled as those prayers were answered, "Antony."

"What's up Owen?", he said as he removed his sunglasses and gave the other a hug. "It has been too long. When was the last time I saw you? 1837 in England I believe."

"Yeah you were off to America," Owen recalled. "Something about making your fortune if I remember correctly."

"Just trying to live the high life, you know me." Antony turned to Keith as years of experience made him size up the young man. "And I'm guessing you're a virgin."

"Hey," Keith started to protest.

"Not in that way boyo," Owen said. "Keith here is my student."

"Don't you just find that 'boyo' thing annoying?", Antony asked Keith, who quickly agreed. "You always had more patience than me Owen. I tried the whole teacher thing a couple of time. And I always handed them off to somebody else at my first opportunity. Look at us talking so openly on the street, you would think we were new at this."

"My place isn't that far away," Owen said, "want to come with us for a couple of drinks?"

Antony put an arm around his shoulder, "My friend I thought you would never ask."

They spent the next couple of hours in Owen apartment talking about days gone by. Keith, feeling out of place, only nodded or shook his head when it looked liked something as directed toward him. Owen saw his student discomfort and tried several times to direct things toward something a little more current, but Antony was able to take it to something that happened decades if not centuries earlier. "I don't know what happen to this planet," he said wistfully. "Years ago I was able to have deep, meaningful conversation with people. Now I have guys in their fifties calling me 'dawg'. Seriously, I want to weep sometimes."

"Times change," was Owen only response. "I remember when automobiles were considered a wealthy man play toy. Now they're every where you look. And who would have ever imagined back then that you could sit in your own house and talk to somebody across the globe and not have it be called witchcraft. The world moves on, we just have to learn to adapt along with it." Getting up he said, "Let me get you another beer." Looking into the fridge he called out, "Looks like I only got light beer left." When he turned around he saw the point of a Spanish rapier pointed at him and Keith getting up in shock, "If you don't like that, I can always send Keith out for some more." When the sword didn't waiver he told him, "This isn't funny Antony."

"I'm sorry," he said sounding regretful, "I truly am. But I need money. I know you still have some, you never tried to live above a commoner so you still have plenty to spare."

"What is this about Antony?"

"I have debts, big debts."

"If you need money I can give you some, no strings attached," Owen said hoping to talk him out of this.

"You don't understand," he said. "I lost everything. Everything! My bank accounts all over the world, my homes all of it. Five hundred years of life and I lost all of it in one night. I just need a fresh start."

"I'll give you that fresh start," Owen said. "You don't even have to pay me back."

"It won't be enough. I need what you have and I only know one way to take it."

"Antony don't do this," Owen pleaded.

"Owen McAllister," Antony said, "pick up your sword and fight me."

"You want to fight somebody fight me," Keith spoke up.

"I don't fight virgins boy," Antony said never taking his eyes off of Owen. "Taste a Quickening first then see me about revenge."

"Back off Keith," Owen said. "You know the rules, this is between me and him. But not here."

Looking out the window Antony saw a building under construction, "Over there then."

"It'll do," Owen agreed. Antony put his sword in his coat and headed out the door without another word. "You damn bastard," Owen said after a moment.

"Now what are you going to do?", Keith asked.

"Stay here," was Owen only answer as he headed for the front door. Reaching into his bag he pulled out the bastard version of the long sword and put it in his jacket before he headed out the door. He crossed the street and entered the construction area through a hole in the fence. Antony wasn't that far away as he waited for him to enter before walking further in. Owen drew his sword and Antony pulled his. "We don't have to do it this way."

"Yes we do Owen, it's who we are. This day was going to come sooner or later, it might as well be now. I'll take care of Keith for you, if he doesn't try to kill me first."

"Always thinking too far ahead, "Owen said as he raised his sword. "That was always your biggest problem. It probably put you in the mess you're in now."

"Shut up and fight," Antony said as they slowly came toward each other. Both knew how the other fought so it was important to wait before making a mistake that left you open. Owen watched his every movement hoping, no praying his friend would come to his senses. Realizing he wasn't any time soon he attacked first making Antony block and step back. Centuries of instinct and experience flowed through them and powered their attacks. Neither thought of the good times they had as they fought knowing one way or the other this was going to end.

Owen was forced back as one swing sliced deep into his left arm. He was forced to fight with just the one arm until he healed enough to be able to use it properly. He sidestepped a downward strike and slashed at Antony's leg buying him a little time. Antony surprised him by swinging out widely with his sword. Owen felt the wind across his neck as he quickly fell back. That was too close. Antony pressed his advantage forcing Owen against a steel pillar. He swung again for a killing strike. Owen ducked and the Rapier sliced into the pillar before getting stuck. Owen quickly put his sword up to Antony's neck. "Walk away Antony," he said. "We don't have to finish this."

"Alright," he agreed. Owen never took his eyes off of him as he lowered his sword and backed up. Antony finally pulled his rapier free and looked at Owen who finally turned his back. "I am truly, deeply sorry old friend," he whispered. He ran at Owen with his sword raised up high. Owen heard it coming and quickly spun around, catching Antony in the gut and slicing deep as he pulled away. He fell to his knees as his hand went instinctively to the wound to try to keep his insides from falling out. Owen got his side and stood over him with his sword raised. He thought about sparing his life for the second time. Then he saw Antony reach for his sword again. Owen swung down and separated his head from his body with ease.

He backed away from the body as his neck started glowing, trying to avoid it but knowing it wasn't going to happen. The Quickening could not be avoided no matter how hard you tried. Lightning like energy bolts came from the body and danced in the air. Then the first bolt assaulted him and froze him in place as he started absorbing everything Antony was, knew and experienced. The area lit up as more energy poured out of the headless body. He was assaulted over and over by the bolts as the occasional stray bolt hit something in the construction yard. He endured the torment as best he could before it became overpowering. "RRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!!!", he screamed at the top of his lungs with his arm open wide as every cell in his body felt like they were exploding all at once. Lighting flowed through and off of him as various pieces of equipment and lights around him started to explode from the excess energy. Then things died down and he fell to his knees exhausted. A second battle was taking place inside him. The one that lasted for a second but felt like an eternity, as the new energy inside him fought for control in one last effort to live. Like always it was pushed down and quieted as he remained Owen McAllister, born three hundred and fifty years ago and nobody else.

He felt the buzz again and froze. Every immortal greatest fear was that there would be another nearby ready to take advantage of you while you were still recovering after a Quickening. He looked around until he saw Keith standing there wide eyed. Hoarsely he told him "I told you to stay put."

"He…, "Keith sputtered, "he was your friend."

"And he wasn't going to stop until one of us was dead," Owen told him as he shakily got to his feet. Walking toward his student he said, "If you take nothing else away from what I taught you take this. Cherish what friend you have and gain as you as you walk this journey, human and immortal alike. Celebrate with them, honor them when they die, remember them when they are gone." Standing in front of him he continued, "Unfortunately you'll realize soon enough how fragile mortals are as you watch them grow old and die. And with immortals," he looked back at the headless body, "friendships run deep, but as far as the Game is concerned they are never destined to last." Looking Keith in the eyes he said, "Because in the end there can be only one." Walking past Keith and putting his sword back in his jacket he wanted to get out of there before anybody decided to get brave and check out what the commotion was, "God I need a drink."

Keith got in his way. Looking concerned he asked, "Are we every going to fight?"

Owen looked at the young man. His first instinct was to lie, but after what he just seen there was no point. "Maybe someday boyo, but not today." He put an arm around him as they continued walking, "Come on, I know a bar a couple of blocks away. Despite everything that's happen I want to honor an old friend."