Death paced his cell, his gait closer to a stalk than a frustrated march. His confinement was getting to him more than it had previously. He was Methos. He was Death. He would not be imprisoned. He would not be controlled.

The swish of the door alerted him to a new arrival. Recently, his guards had been too scared to even bring him his food so he knew that something must be happening. His expression changed briefly to one of immense satisfaction as he dipped into the power he had at his disposal. But that was quickly erased, when he turned toward Ballard, face now completely expressionless.

"Gathered your courage, I see," he said silkily. Ballard raised the tranquilliser gun he was holding at the same time. They stood once more, staring at each other, neither acting.

"I have come to realise the futility of my previous plan of action," Ballard began.

"Bravo." Death smirked patronizingly. A soldier came to stand at Ballard's side and the Horseman's gaze darted quickly to the movement. Ballard took advantage of his slight distraction and before the oldest Immortal was even entirely aware of what was happening the effects of the serum began to slide around the edges of his consciousness, slowly taking hold. He lashed out, but was already losing focus.

"I'm going to enjoy watching you beg for your life," he sneered, his voice cold and his eyes hard. He struggled to retain control over his body, but eventually he succumbed to the inevitable.

Ballard only allowed himself to relax his guard a little when the man stopped resisting entirely. He had come to realise just how impossible his first plan had been. He had also come to understand that the Immortal known as Death was hiding the true extent of his power. After he had seen that the other Immortals did not the control his Immortal did, he had realised that there was much more to him than he had first believed.

Ballard stared into the blank hazel eyes only realising now that all emotion was gone, just how expressive those apparently indifferent eyes actually were. He had always thought that they revealed very little about the man. How wrong he had been. He took a step forward, still cautious despite the fact that the Immortal was completely under his control. If nothing else this man had taught him just how dangerous he really was and how hazardous it was to underestimate him.

"I've got a new Immortal for you," he explained. Not that it really mattered. Death would obey his commands anyway. "I know that you're more powerful than you've told me. It really wasn't very sporting of you to keep that from me, but it doesn't matter now. When you take this one I want you to call the others here. Can you do that?"

"Anyone in the Game who senses my presence will come."

Ballard grinned cheerfully.

"Excellent."

Ballard beckoned to another soldier who loosely held the bastard sword. Once he had handed the sword to Ballard he quickly stepped back, as though the sword alone could attack him.

Ballard placed the sword in the Immortal's hand and waited until his fingers curled around the hilt. He felt a thrill of exhilaration when he commanded Death to follow him and Death obeyed. He stopped outside the room he had used previously. After the first Quickening, precautions had been taken against the surge of an Immortal's Quickening being released. He punched in the code and the door slid open. He took little notice of the disoriented Immortal that knelt, a little unsteadily, on the other side of the room.

"Enter the room," Ballard told his pet Immortal who stepped forward without hesitation. Ballard grinned in anticipation, his fingers already flying over the keypad to reseal the door as he added, "Come and see."

A loud, blaring alarm sounded, indicating intruders, and Death noted the annoyed expression on Ballard's face before the door slid smoothly shut. With the closing of the door, the alarm became muted and he dismissed all thoughts of it entirely.

Death instinctively tightened his grip on his sword as he turned to look at the rather pathetic looking Immortal before him. His thoughts were murky, but he knew one thing. His sole purpose was to kill the Immortal. He raised an eyebrow in recognition as the man looked up at him. He twisted his sword expertly in a practice swing as he found his balance with the weapon.

"Methos," MacLeod said in shock, finally focusing on the Immortal that had entered the room. The effects of reviving were quickly leaving him and he noticed that he had been stripped of his coat. "What's going on?"

Methos gave no answer. Instead, he raised his sword and MacLeod quickly rolled out of the way, struggling against the ropes binding his hands. He had no wish to fight his friend, but he would do what he had to until he could figure out what was going on.

He rolled again, freeing his hands, when Methos swung at him. He was confident in his abilities to hold the other Immortal off until he worked something out. After all, in all of their sparring matches Methos had never beaten him. It did not take long for MacLeod to realise just how much Methos had been holding back, especially when Methos scored a deep wound across MacLeod's chest. MacLeod decided that it was time to take the offensive. He lunged at Methos, grabbing him around the waist and knocking him off his feet.

"Is this a Dark Quickening?" MacLeod asked trying to gauge the other Immortal's thoughts from his expression, but finding nothing. MacLeod decided that he definitely preferred the arrogant and amused smirks, however annoying, to these empty stares.

Death cocked his head to the side, expression blank. Then the Horseman twisted out of MacLeod's grasp and rose to his feet again.

"Methos," MacLeod tried again. The oldest Immortal simply quirked the corner of his mouth in a mild smirk. He was enjoying this.

MacLeod took a few steps back. This silent Methos was making him feel distinctly on edge. Methos was never silent. MacLeod found himself wishing for the ridiculous stories that Methos spun with such ease. The two Immortals stood opposite each other, panting for breath.

"Methos, this isn't like you. You aren't interested in the Game," MacLeod said, trying one last time to get through to the other Immortal. He couldn't understand what was happening. Methos had never been eager to fight before. He had always done his best to avoid fights. Yet here he was, challenging Immortals and working with the military no less. Something was definitely not right, but MacLeod had no clue as to how to fix it.

Death shrugged negligently. It wasn't about the Game or the Prize. His purpose was to kill the Immortals and to him it felt as though his entire life hinged on accomplishing that goal. He was sure there was something he was supposed to remember about Ballard, but it didn't seem all that important at the moment. He had to deal with MacLeod.

MacLeod gathered himself once more and lunged forcefully. Methos managed to block the first strike of his fist, but not the second. MacLeod took the opportunity and try to wrestle the sword out of Methos' hands. He managed to score a slice to Methos' shoulder and MacLeod gritted his teeth, expecting to feel the sword grind against the bone of the other Immortal's shoulder; instead it struck jarringly, sending his old friend stumbling for several paces. MacLeod was horrified to see, amid the blood flowing from the wound, the grey sheen of metal instead of white bone. He stared incredulously, unable to believe just what his eyes were showing him.

What had Methos allowed them to do to him? MacLeod wondered. Had he been willing at all? He certainly seemed complicit enough at the moment. But there was definitely something wrong with him. MacLeod knew that much.

Death was unable to hide the grimace of pain that crossed his features. He determined that he had played with the Immortal long enough. It was time to end it. He dipped further into his well of power than he had in a long time and drew it out. Various cuts and abrasions that MacLeod had scored healed almost instantly, the wound on his arm following only a little more slowly.

With all his Quickening released the oldest Immortal knew that he would be a beacon for most of the Immortals in the States. Powerful Immortals were always drawn to each other. He felt a faint surge of panic, but couldn't understand why. This, too, was his purpose and accomplishing it was a good thing. With a slight shake of his head, he dispelled the feeling and looked once more to his victim.

MacLeod sank to his knees, pressing one hand to his head, as he tried to suppress the feeling of nausea that had come upon him. He had never been confronted with a Quickening so strong. He squinted at Methos, who locked gazes with him. He looked terrible and otherworldly and MacLeod wondered how he had missed the power that Methos held all these years. It had been so easy to see him as Adam Pierson, even after the Horsemen ordeal, but he would never mistake this being for a benign grad student.

With several steps forward Death placed his blade at MacLeod's neck. For the first time he smirked, and the condescending nature of his smirk annoyed MacLeod, even as the Highlander wondered how he was going to get out of this situation.

He stared into the blank hazel eyes of his friend and soon-to-be murderer before a movement caused him to flick his eyes to the door. Two men stood there; MacLeod absently noted, with the clarity that comes from knowing the end is coming, that one of the men had claws. The two men stood frozen in shock, if only for a moment before they burst into action. MacLeod's eyes shifted back to Methos' as the Immortal raised his sword to strike the final blow.

Death noticed the movement out of the corner of his eyes, but did not sense the buzz of a Quickening that marked an Immortal's presence and so dismissed them as insignificant. They were too far away to stop him in time anyway.

"There can be only me."

...

Ballard waited until the door slid shut before he turned one of his men.

"You! Take some men and find out what precisely is going on," he ordered above the blaring of the alarms. "I want a report on the situation in five minutes." The man nodded and spun quickly on his heel, several other men following him down the passage.

Ballard turned and the remainder of his men followed him into the observation room. His men were capable of dealing with the problem. He'd picked them for that very reason. At the momen,t he had more important things to take care of.

Ballard sat in front of the monitors and watched the fight play out on the screen. He knew that he would lose reception once the Quickening hit, but once that happened it was all over anyway.

It was obvious to Ballard that the two Immortals knew each other, but that just made it even more delightful. Death killed at his command. He frowned in annoyance when Death was wounded. He had made the man all but invincible, had done everything he possibly could to give him an advantage and still he faltered. He was about to order his men into the room to interfere if necessary when the screen flickered before going static.

"Fix that," Ballard snarled at one of his men. The picture returned long enough for Ballard to see two of those infernal mutants running into the room. "Get them! Get them now. They're going to ruin everything."

He quickly left the room, belatedly realising that he hadn't received any report.

...

Wolverine raced into the room intent on reaching Adam before he could do something he would regret. Unfortunately, he knew already that despite his reflexes he wouldn't make it in time.

Cyclops stopped in the doorway and adjusted his visor to a reasonably safe level for most people. He didn't have time to get an exact setting when he blasted Adam across the room. He then took stock of the stranger Adam had been threatening. The man seemed to blink away the effects of the optic blast before climbing unsteadily to his feet.

Death snarled as he slammed against the wall. His sword fell from numb fingers as he collapsed to the ground. What wounds he had received healed almost instantly and he picked up his sword. Raising his head he stared menacingly at the two mutants.

"How nice of you to join the party," he commented idly, as he looked them over critically. "Though your rescue attempt was a bit ill-conceived."

Ballard appeared in the doorway and it was as if everyone froze, intent on seeing how this new development would play out. Ballard stared Death in the eye.

"Kill them," he ordered.

"With pleasure." Death shifted his grip on his sword to hold it with both hands.

Ballard disappeared down the corridor, leaving his men to assist with the situation. If there were two mutant intruders then there would likely be more and he could not afford to have his base compromised. He had worked far too hard for everything to fall apart now. Ballard forced himself to remain calm. Stryker's research had been right so far, it wouldn't do for Ballard to lose faith now.

Cyclops came to stand at the stranger's side as they faced the soldiers. The swords were a surprise, but now was not the time to ask questions. Cyclops could see that their teammate was once more under the influence of the serum, which meant that they had to keep him occupied until it wore off. Unfortunately, they also had the guards to deal with and fighting a battle on two fronts rarely lead to a favourable outcome.

"Wolverine," Cyclops called over his shoulder, without moving his gaze from the soldiers. He received no reply, but the grunt he heard as the two men clashed was answer enough. After that, he had just enough time to adjust his visor before the soldiers opened fire. Beside him, the stranger moved to neutralise the soldiers as well.

Clearly, the mutant didn't need too much encouragement to fight as he lunged for Death. The Immortal dodged out of the way, relying on his agility, rather than a direct attack. He brought his elbow down on Wolverine's spine. Death quickly pushed his frustration away when Wolverine hardly skipped a step as he turned back to grapple with the Immortal.

Death snarled as he lost his grip on his sword in the tussle, but didn't have time to concern himself with that fact. The mutant, who knew of his healing, wasn't holding anything back and while Death had more experience, Wolverine was decidedly the stronger of the two. They paused briefly to regain their bearings before circling each other once more.

Wolverine watched for the slightest movement of muscle that would indicate the other man's next move. Abruptly Adam paused, shaking his head as if to clear it and blinked several times.

"Logan?" he asked shakily.

Wolverine watched him warily, still circling.

"Logan, I don't…" he trailed off, swaying dangerously as he stumbled a step. Wolverine moved quickly to his side.

Death struck out with a fist to the gut, following up with a punch to the jaw. Wolverine staggered back several steps. The Immortal shook his hand out, surprised at just how hard the mutant's skeleton was. Without a doubt more durable than his. Pushing that thought aside, Death stalked forward.

Cyclops kept half his attention focussed on the man beside him as he ducked out of the way of the bullets. Two short blasts and the two soldiers closest to the door were neutralised. Two others, having learnt from their colleagues' misfortune, ran at him in an attempt to both take him down and to limit the usefulness of his blasts.

He winced as one of the soldiers caught him with a right hook. He responded with one of his own, but the soldier moved out of the way before he could connect. The second one kicked him in the back of the knee and he fell hard to the ground.

MacLeod rolled forwards to avoid the bullets. They wouldn't have killed him, at least not permanently, but they certainly would have slowed him down. Two blasts of red light shot over his head and the rain of bullets decreased significantly. MacLeod decided to worry about it later. Considering that he'd been kidnapped by army personnel so that his best friend could kill him, mutants who could shoot lasers out of their eyes were the least of his problems. Especially when it seemed like they were on his side. Instead he jumped to his feet and engaged the soldier nearest to him.

He kicked the soldier in the stomach before spinning to block the punch of the next one. A fist slamming into the first soldier's jaw sent him to the ground and MacLeod then laid the second one out with a flurry of hits, finished off with a kick that swept the soldier off his feet. Seeing no more opponents of his own he hurried to the mutant's aid.

Cyclops raised a hand to his visor and he blasted the first soldier several feet back where he collided with the wall. He then turned to deal with the second soldier, but found him already on the ground, unconscious, and the stranger standing above him. Cyclops accepted the man's hand and was helped to his feet.

MacLeod turned back to the fight between Methos and the other mutant and hesitated, unsure of what he should do.

"Don't interfere," the mutant told him.

"What's going on?"

"Adam's under the influence of a mind-controlling serum. Wolverine will take care of it."

MacLeod almost sagged in relief. He had not wanted to think he'd been mistaken about Methos all these years. He then stared intently at the mutant.

"What do you mean 'take care of it'?" MacLeod asked as he started forward. The brown haired man grabbed his arm to stop him.

"The serum will wear off, but until it does we have to keep him from harming anyone and Wolverine can handle himself." The last was said grudgingly.

Wolverine quickly regained his bearings and leapt forward with a strong right hook that snapped Adam's head back. He almost felt guilty because he knew that even with Adam's healing that had to hurt, but he could tell that more than just the man's mind had been messed with. Adam was more resilient than he should be, even with his healing ability. He aimed another series of punches, with his full strength behind them, at Adam's ribs and stomach. While he was still recovering, Wolverine grabbed a fistful of material and pinned him to the wall. He then held his claws to the man's neck. The predator in Wolverine delighted in the faintest flicker of fear he saw in the other man's eyes. He applied fractionally more pressure and three separate trickles of blood ran down Adam's neck.

"I press a little harder, and I'm betting not even you could survive," he said, voice low and dangerous. "Your skeleton – "

"Oh, I've been taking my calcium supplements like a good boy," Death replied with a smirk. "I can take more than you think."

"I liked you better as Stryker's lackey."

"I'm no one's lackey," Death said coldly.

"Coulda fooled me," Wolverine drawled.

Wolverine watched Adam lean his head back against the wall. His hand fell away from Wolverine's arm and he took several deep breaths.

The oldest Immortal raised his head, glowering darkly, as his mind once more became his own. Ballard would regret his attempts at controlling Death. His eyes bored into Wolverine's. No one would stand in his way.

"Release me," he commanded. Wolverine gave him an amused look.

"And why would I do that?"

"I have more important things to take care of."

"Wolverine," Cyclops said. "Let him go."

The feral mutant observed Death warily for a long moment, weighing him up, before he finally stepped back, releasing him.

"MacLeod?" the oldest Immortal asked brusquely.

MacLeod stepped forward then hesitated.

"Adam, what's going on?"

"Get your Watcher and get out of here."

"Adam –"

"MacLeod, there will be more of us coming. Leave. Now." MacLeod clearly heard the presumed authority and resulting impatience in Methos' tone and knew that while he wasn't under the control of the serum, and he really needed an explanation for that, this still wasn't the Methos he knew. This stranger now commanded the mutant that had helped MacLeod fight the guards. "Scott, take him to the surface and get him out of here."

"Where are you going?" the mutant addressed as 'Scott' asked.

"I'm going to follow through on a promise," Methos replied with a cold smile. He retrieved his sword and left the room at a jog.

"I'll go with him," Wolverine volunteered even as he made his way to the door. If anyone could relate to Adam's state of mind at the moment it was him and he knew that Adam wouldn't care if the base fell down around him as long as he got his revenge.

"Hurry, we won't have much time. I'll take this guy to the surface." The two men nodded to each other and Wolverine disappeared out the door. Cyclops led the man called MacLeod out of the room and began to make his own way to the surface.

...

Storm placed the last of the explosive devices and set the timer for 30 minutes. It would give them enough time to get out of the base and a little extra in case they ran into any problems. She glanced at Nightcrawler who was keeping watch for any more soldiers. They'd already had to deal with quite a few as they made their way deeper into the base. Nightcrawler nodded in return and they hurried down the passage that led to the stairs. Storm tapped the communication device in her ear.

"Thirty minutes."

"Affirmative," Cyclops answered.