Duncan rousted everyone and was prepared for a house to house search of the town, when two things stopped him. First, Constanza appeared, wearing an expression he had never seen on the enigmatic being's face before.

He was worried. He said one thing, "I can't find him." He vanished again.

"Wonderful," Duncan sighed. He looked at Amanda. She looked back, helpless. Everyone else looked at a loss. Except Joe. He was on his phone. And Rebecca. She looked at something beyond the walls.

Both of them looked at the others at the same time.

"He's gone to London!"

Darius had no idea what drove him. Sir Stephen Roberts? A dirty fighting hypocrite "Crusader", who gunned down Immortals, who had gunned down his father, Duncan, who would have gunned down his mother, Amanda, had he had a chance? Yes, he deserved to die. These other Immortals he had slain? Challenges. He wanted experience, adventure. He was getting it now. And all of them, there was something dark, sinful, wrong. They all deserved to pay. But this one? He surged with power and the aura of the ancient. He was a rare Immortal, not to be trifled with. In fact, the closest he had felt like this one, was...Methos. But though he could detect power...confidence...this one, though quite the warrior, was just. Why he must he die?

A frightening voice inside, one he had heard fragments of, now roared loudly. Clearly. Screamed the name of the Immortal in front of him...

This one was named...

"Tolan. Young man, is there any particular reason why you wish to duel me? Here?" the tall, dark skinned, bald Immortal said casually, gesturing around the scrapyard to which they retreated. "I have no idea who you are. Further, we can't claim each other's Quickening. Why waste each other's time? We are called here. We must wait for that purpose to unfold."

Darius put on the fedora Amanda had given him and said, "I know my purpose. Wrongdoers hide themselves in power. Immortals are powerful. But not all powerful..."

Wince.

"I'm here to balance the equation."

Tolan looked at him quizzically, "Lad, are you alright?"

"No," Darius answered. And then, his sword was in his hand, blazing with Quickening. "I'm not alright."

And he was on Tolan. Sword swift, sure...

Tolan responded with experience, skillfully, forcefully parrying Darius' incoming blows. Darius let loose a flurry of slashes, varying their angles, then a thrust, abdomen level. Tolan riposted, then drove Darius back with a set of skillful attacks. He still tried to make sense of the being that faced him. Face of youth. Of course, among Immortals, that meant nothing. Skilled, but inexperienced fighting style. More indicative. But his aura? Very powerful, but unlike anything he had felt before.

But there was something...what was it?

Darius came at him yet again, and Tolan upped the ante. Thousands of years of history passed before him. He had encountered many Immortals in his existence. And of those he had killed, he had tried to make sure his reasons were just. But every now and then, well, there can be only one, right? But he had tried. He had faced situations that risked his Immortal life, even his soul. Because there were few others who could. And he had managed to triumph. He had even faced other menaces, dark, dangerous. He remembered one. When he and a few other Ancients came together, one night in the Coliseum, 10th century Rome, in the ruins...why had he just thought of that? That night, that awful night.

But this strange one before him...he seemed powerful, but unfocused. Time to end this...

Slash, feint, THRUST...connect!

Bleeding profusely from the stomach, Darius fell onto his back. He coughed up blood, his breath ragged.

Tolan summoned up his deep reservoir of Quickening, lifted a car behind him, and dropped it on Darius, hard. Only his head was exposed.

Tolan stood over him, pity welling up. But he coated it with a cold, hard shell.

"Well," he said, "I warned you. Do you really wish it to end here?"

"No..no...," Darius coughed.

"Neither do I," Tolan said softly. He made ready to move the car.

"No...no...", Darius moaned. Suddenly he screamed, "NOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!"

"Lad, what's the matter?" Tolan asked. Then he sensed...his eyes went wide, and he moved quickly to remove Darius' head. The car suddenly rocketed from the ground, as if fired from a cannon. Tolan was knocked to the ground. He shook his head and looked.

Darius was up. His eyes blazed with white energy, and he was surrounded by black, oh so black.

"Goddess," he swore. He gripped his blade and stood.

"Yes, she speaks," Darius said in a voice no longer his own. "And she dubs thee unworthy."

"We banished your foul essence from the Earth long ago," Tolan breathed.

"Well, those who were unclaimed have been recalled. We are back in the Game. And I'm making it my Game," not-Darius sneered. "My rules."

Tolan attacked. He fought. He died well.

The Quickening died quickly, absorbed by an insatiable hunger.

The being chuckled, sparks playing between Darius' fingers. He looked around and whispered, "So much sin, so little time."

Night. London. Duncan and his companions stood outside a restaurant. The police had it cordoned off. The local press was there, and overheard snatches sounded like both law enforcement and reporters were calling it "terrorism".

Rebecca stood there, eyes wide, staring at the wreckage, tears streaming down her face. "They were here," she said, deep fear, despair in her voice. "Darius is frightened. He can't stop him!"

"Who?" Duncan asked. Amanda hugged him and Fitz held Rebecca. Richie looked helpless. Methos looked distracted. And worried.

Joe took a note from a man who came up to him. The man looked at the Immortals and then quickly vanished. Joe looked at the note, taking note of the sketch included. He sighed, then swore softly.

Methos hesitantly reached for the note, then looked at the sketch. It was of a flaming sword, primitive, as if done by Stone Age cave painters.

"It was in blood," Joe said darkly.

"I know," Methos said, "Some ghosts are best left buried. I knew this 'Quickening recovery' business would have a bad side."

"What is it?" Duncan asked. Methos turned and saw the faces turned to him. Expectant. Dreading. They should.

"Arphael. The Celestial Sword. He has Darius."