The group stood in the cobble stoned streets of Salisbury, England. On the way, they had felt a lot of Immortals, and even saw a few. And now, in Salisbury, they were near the eye of the storm, more ways than one. A couple were even there in the street. Duncan didn't recognize them, though one, a petite redhead female came running up to Richie.

"Rich!" she squealed. "Wow! Everyone's here! Least I think everyone's here. I haven't been doing this very long, I don't know..."

They hugged, and Richie said, "Well, ah...have I introduced you to Duncan? Duncan MacLeod? Paula West. She was a windsurfer who knocked herself out on her board. She...drowned."

"I got better," she said with a smile. "Wow, you won't believe the rumors going around, Rich," she said while shaking Duncan's hand, beaming at him. She then looked like she remembered something, "Or maybe, you would. Rich, what's going on here?"

"Let me ask you something first, Paula. Why are you here?"

Paula's gray eyes went distant. She said in a small voice, "I don't know...I just felt I had to come. I was scared, but I had to come. There are a lot of us here. Nobody knows what's going on, though."

She then noticed Rebecca and Darius for the first time. And could obviously tell they felt "strange". Darius glared back hard.

"Yeah, we don't, either," Richie said, truthfully. "Uh, got places to go. Talk to you later, Paula?"

"Sure..Rich," she said, tentatively backing away. "I'll see ya!" She smiled at Richie and trotted off.

"Huh," Richie muttered.

"Ok, low profile," Duncan said. "Let's get to our hotel room and stay there until...until its time."

Amanda looked thoughtful and said, "Before we do that, there's something we need to do first."

She led them to a nearby clothes shop and bought new duds for anyone who needed it. And then, they dropped by a local photography studio. The proprietor at first was reluctant, quoting a full schedule. But when Duncan flashed a certain bundle of Sterling, an opening made itself available.

The group took several portraits. One big group shot, individual shots of Rebecca and Darius, and finally, one of the family. Duncan smiled. Amanda and Rebecca beamed warmly. Darius glowered. But they were done. Duncan left an address to receive the photos, and hustled everyone out of the studio. They managed to find a hotel room near the cathedral. The 'Lion was almost as old as the cathedral, with foundation stones from the building that housed the workers who constructed the cathedral. Amanda sighed after making sure everyone was tucked in, and flounced on the bed.

"Civilization, I love it," she purred. "I can't get enough of it. I mean, it's Salisbury, but hey, I've always liked England. It's...England."

"Oh yeah, it's England, alright," Duncan grumbled.

"Oh pooh, that's just Scot prejudice talking," she pouted. "Relax. The family's together."

"But how long?" Duncan asked her.

"I don't know," Amanda said. "But can we enjoy this moment?"

Rebecca suddenly came running up to their doorway, looking very worried.

"Darius is gone!" she exclaimed.

Night. Foggy London streets. A cloaked figure walked down the sidewalk and entered a tavern. Dim light and raucous laughter greeted his ears. There were Immortals present. And a couple sensed him, disturbed by the sensation. Good.

Ah, there was the one. Large, muscular man. Short, military haircut. A couple like him nearby, also Immortals. But he was the main concern. His name?

"Stephen Roberts."

Stephan Roberts turned to see this cloaked figure standing at his elbow. He narrowed his eyes and scrutinized the figure. A strange, disturbing sensation came from him.

"You in town for the show, fella?" Roberts asked. "You know what I mean?"

"Yes, I do know what you mean, and yes, I'm in for the show. You might say I'm one of the stars."

"What the hell does that mean?" Roberts asked.

"Let me show you," Darius said. His hand then shot out and grabbed Roberts' forehead. Memories forcefully replayed in his head, including one that showed Duncan MacLeod being taken down by gunfire on a Parisian street. Earlier memories played out, over centuries of time.

Darius let go, looking shaken. Roberts was stunned, then recovered himself. The men next to him were up and moving towards Darius.

"Stand down!" Roberts snarled. "You are attracting too much attention."

He then turned back to Darius and said, "I don't know who you are or how you did that, or how you know what you know. But this ain't amusing anymore. What do you want?"

"Your head, if you don't mind," Darius said, with a cold smile.

"I don't fancy I do, if you can take it," Roberts said. "After you, stripling."

Darius and Roberts stepped into a nearby alley. Roberts had a modern, well-machined long sword. Darius pulled out his bastard sword. Roberts squinted at it.

"Fine blade, lad. Looks like one from back in my day. What antique shop did you buy that from?" Roberts chuckled.

Darius snarled and charged at Roberts. Swords clashed, clanged, sparked and rebounded.

"Not bad," Roberts nodded. "You've had training. Try this one."

A vigorous exchange of blows then, with mostly Darius frantically parrying.

"Ok, lad, last chance. Are you sure you won't give up this fool's errand? You know we can't get each other's Quickening right now, for some reason. No? Very well..."

Roberts silently leaped forward in a low thrust, which transformed into a high slash. Darius suddenly lost his sword as his arm went limp with pain.

Roberts kicked him in the chest and he went down. The old warrior stood over Darius, sword semi raised.

"Gave you a chance, lad. That's more than most get in this Game, but oh well..." his sword went up.

'You will soon give up your soul to Allah, dark one,' said a voice. Darius turned. In the inner turmoil, an Arab manifested himself. In silk, modestly jeweled, festooned like a warrior. A scimitar hung at his side.

'That droog you are facing. I know him. I faced him and his fellow invaders a long time ago. He didn't fight with honor. I wish to return the favor.'

'And if I don't let you?' Darius asked.

'Then, I say it's over for you. Pity,' said the warrior, eyes flashing. 'But if you do allow me this boon, then by Allah, he shall trouble you no more.'

Darius nodded.

The man smiled, as did Darius, on the ground in the alley. A sword plunged down. Darius dodged, then kicked up, catching Roberts in the jewels. Roberts yelped and fell back.

Darius picked up the sword he had dropped and looked at it with distaste. "Ah, English blades. I must fight with this? Ah well..." And on he came, blade flashing.

Roberts desperately parried, inexplicably on the defensive.

"Bloody hell, how..?"

"Oh, I ask forgiveness, Sir Stephen, I realize you still think you are fighting the stripling. Understandable. Perhaps you remember Samir Ibin? Warrior for Allah?"

Roberts squinted, then exclaimed, "I had you beheaded! I didn't want your filthy Quickening! How..?"

"I really do not know. But now, I face you again, and will find I'm not quite so fussy."

Roberts growled, "Then let us get it done."

Samir and Roberts roared, blades singing out. No quarter was given, or expected.

Suddenly, shots rang out and Darius/Samir went down.

Two men with guns emerged from behind wall corners.

"What took you?" he muttered to them.

He kneeled down and looked at Darius and said, "This is over, lad. I don't know what other tricks you have, but I'm bored with this. It's time to end it."

Suddenly, the two gunmen went flying and slammed hard into the building across the street. They lay still.

Darius was standing again.

"This was not to be your day," said Samir, "I suppose your dishonorable tacticts have caught up with you."

Roberts lunged at Samir. Their swords crossed. Clanged. Rang. Plunged. Lunged. Slashed...

And suddenly, Roberts was lacking head.

The Quickening storm, a potent one, built. But when it tried to vanish, Darius reached out, took it, and pulled. It became one with him.

Darius was then returned to himself.

He shuddered and looked down at the body below him. After a moment, he looked at the figures across the street. They began to stir.

Darius ran to them, his blade at the ready.

There was more lightning, then darkness...