WARNING: There are some bad words and some violence in this part (ok, there was some violence in the other parts, too. I mean, every quickening is violent), so if this offends you, please stay away!

Then Joe finally came to a decision. To hell with my oat! I'll be damned if I let you get yourself killed; sometimes you have to interfere. He grabbed his gun and hurried as fast as his legs allowed to the door, hoping that the two hadn't made it far – and to Joe's relief they hadn't. The other apparently had waited for Methos outside and was now leading him to an empty place where they would have no audience.

Also it was not easy for Joe, he managed to follow them within a short distance to the fighting place where hid behind a big tree. Leaning against it, his right hand clinched tightly around his gun, he could feel his heart beat very fast as he watched the two Immortals approach each other. If Methos showed any signs of loosing, he would shoot the other Immortal, he swore to himself. Damn the watcher oath, this is my friend after all!

But it didn't come to that: Joe watched in surprise Methos attack with incredible speed and force, he hadn't suspected the Ancient to have – Methos was definitely not the one in defence here. After a few exchanged blows, Methos suddenly roared a loud cry and then bypassed the other's parry, slicing his arm open. The Redhead screamed in pain and tried to back away, apparently realising now that he had challenged the wrong Immortal this time. For a second, Joe saw Methos's face in the light: it was a mask of pure rage. Then Methos suddenly raised his sword in an incredible fast move and beheaded his opponent.

A few moments later, white smog rose from the dead body and the quickening began to hit Methos, bringing the Immortal screaming to his knees. His face – Joe blinked – his face was showing the expression of pure ecstasy... and there was something else, something dark – something Joe didn't like to see there.

A bit concerned about his friend's strange behaviour, Joe then stepped from behind the tree and walked towards the Immortal, of course, not before the quickening was over. "Everything alright?" he then asked Methos/ Adam.

Methos smiled back at him, his eyes flashing now in a golden fire. "Sure, Joe. Everything is fine." He hesitated a moment, "why don't you go back and continue with the preparations, I join you later... I need some time alone now."

Examining him a bit closer, Joe was not so sure if this was really a good idea; Methos seemed to burst of energy, and there was also still an aura of darkness around him that Joe didn't like at all. "You're sure, buddy? Maybe it's better you talk with Mac about this mess."

"No, Joe," Methos shook his head, "I'm fine, really... As I said before, I only need some time alone." He smiled – although the smile seemed a bit forced to Joe.

"Ok," Joe then finally agreed. He knew that he couldn't help Methos/Adam to deal with the after-effects of the quickening; Methos had to get clear of it on his own. "See you then back in my bar," he nodded and then turned to leave, a slight feeling of concern still burning in his stomach.

Adam

He watched Joe leave while he weakly sat down on the ground. It was really disturbing: a part of him felt really tired now and wanted nothing else than to never get up from the ground again; but another part that was bursting of energy screamed loudly for more action. He drew his legs to his body while he stared at the bloody sword in his hands.

He had killed a human being – again. Shouldn't he feel guilty now? No, he finally shook his head. MacLeod had told him that he would have to kill to stay alive; this was after all the Game: kill or be killed. And Mac had killed, too. So it couldn't be wrong, or could it? No, he finally decided while he wiped his sword clean: live or die, that was the game about – and he would not be the one dying, of that he would made sure – if necessary with all means.

Because he still was burning of surplus energy, he decided to make a detour back to Joe's bar, hoping that the movement would reduce some tension in him. Deep in thoughts, he began to walk along the empty small streets and ...

... suddenly found himself face-to-face with three evil-looking guys of which one was pointing a gun at his face. The first man was an about 35 year old Black with a glad head and a face that was disfigured by several ugly looking scars. His also missing left eye indicated that he apparently was not new in the crime-business. The second man, a White of about 40, was also wearing a glad head, but this time with a big tattoo, a jumping jaguar. The moment the man grinned at him, Adam could also see that he had several holes in his mouth; apparently, they had been pushed out in a fight. Like the first man, he was clothed in a dirty outfit that must have been blue long ago, also Adam wasn't able to determine that exactly any longer. In contrast to these guys, the last almost looked pretty: he was a red-haired man of about 25, who was wearing a black hood-pullover, his eyes hidden behind sunglasses – maybe to appear cool.

The Black then ordered Adam with a hoarse voice to make not the slightest sound while he pushed him against the stonewall to his left. Adam managed barley not to fall down to the dirty pavement, but he was not able to prevent himself from hitting one of the big waste containers staying there. Burning pain spread through his left side, and he almost choked as he smelled an ugly odour rising from the container. To his feet he could hear fast, quiet sounds made by small paws: rats. It made him shudder, for a second a memory flashed through his mind: he saw himself lying on a boat, around him hundreds of rats that watched him with malicious yellow eyes.

He blinked and found himself back again in the small abandoned street with the three guys. The black glad head had stepped to him and was now threatening him with a big, black knife, which had a very impressive serrated blade and looked in contrast to his owner very cared-for. The man grinned evilly while he spat on the ground in front of Adam's shoes. "Give us all your money, and maybe you can keep your life," he then demanded.

"And I want his coat," the Redhead threw in.

That obviously made the Black a bit pissed. "No, it's mine this time; you got the coat of the last guy... it's not my fault that you stupid sun of a bitch lost it during the boozing."

"Yeah?" the Redhead now shouted back with an angry voice, "and you got the clock last time instead, you stupid asshole."

"Shut up, both of you," the third man then interrupted the two a bit nerved. "Everybody will get his share, ok? No need for a fight." Then he once again addressed Adam, "give me your money now, and I also want everything else that has some worth, understood?"

"I have no money with me," Adam replied while he kept the fearful expression on his face, he had been wearing the whole time. He knew that he should feel fear now, but instead he only felt excitement burn in his veins, excitement and a dark anger he couldn't explain.

While he shifted his balance a bit to get a better stand, the black guy brutally grabbed his face and turned it a bit so that they were staring into each other's eyes.

"No money? Then you better have something else for us, or your pretty ,little face will not stay the way it's now," the Black promised evilly - it was the last thing he ever did in his life.

A second later, he sacked slowly to the dirty ground, an expression of incredible surprise on his face while his hands tensed around the knife-hilt that was suddenly sticking out of his now bloody chest. When he hit the ground, he got a last look at his killer: golden eyes starred back at him, burning in rage; the former young looking face now was hard and cold. A thought flashed through his mind, the thought that they had made a terrible mistake – it was his last thought, then darkness claimed him.

The whole act had not lasted more than a few seconds: enough time for Adam to get near the white glad head, but not enough time for the two rubbers to overcome their surprise. When finally the glad head tried to react, it was too late for him; with a precious blow, Adam disarmed him and then snapped his right arm while he sent him flying to the ground where the other then remained crying in pain.

Then Adam turned and faced the Redhead. The man paled and then began to flee down the street, obviously having lost his courage. Turning back to the white glad head, Adam then pulled his sword out of his coat and pointed it at the totally stunned man.

"Hey man," the glad head whispered after a second with a now fear-trembling voice, "that was only a joke – a JOKE!!!"

"A joke," Adam repeated mockingly while he at the same time pressed the weapon a bit deeper at the other's throat. A part of him enjoyed the rush of power this act brought to him; although another part screamed at him to stop – but he didn't listen. Instead, he pressed the weapon even deeper into the skin; smiling when he saw red blood appear. It caused the man to scream in fear, any self-confidence gone now. A second later, an ugly smell suddenly appeared in the air: it was the smell of urine; apparently, the glad head had emptied himself in his jeans.

"Please Mister, only a joke," the man then sobbed with fear-white eyes while his body trembled in panic; tears appeared in his eyes.

For a short moment, Adam felt the burning desire to kill the other man rise in him; he wanted to see the blood and the breaking eyes in the moment of his death... but then the moment was gone. He blinked, and stared at the pity creature that lay crying to his feet. Abhorrence rose in him. No longer able to stand the sight, he then abruptly turned and left the place.

He needed about 30 minutes before he felt able again to walk back and face Joe. Not wanting to concern the old watcher with his feelings, he didn't tell him about the incident and pretended to be alright again; although he had the slight feeling that Joe wasn't buying his act because the watcher sent several concerned looks into his direction.

Next day, watcher hospital

While he was waiting in Dr. Wildwather's office the next day, Adam examined the small Indian figures that were standing on her desk. He took one of them into his hand and turned it in front of his eyes so that he could see it from all sites. A few moments later, the doctor entered, smiling at him while she sat down. For a short moment, he saw not her face but the woman's face of his dream stare back at him, and he felt the desire to... No, a voice whispered in his head and immediately whipped the thought away. He placed the figure back on the desk.

Pointing at the small figure, the doctor explained," this is a totem. My grandfather gave it to me as a small child, it shall help keep Death away."

"And does it help?"

She smiled, "I'm still alive, or not? So, what do you think?" Then she examined him while she continued with a serious voice, "I heard that you received two quickening within a very short time. I want to talk with you about it, Adam... How do you feel now?"

Looking into her dark eyes, he considered what to answer. I feel good, Doc? And by the way, I almost killed three other guys yesterday and a part of me enjoyed it. Do you think that's a good sign, Doc?... Yeah sure, he thought sarcastically, that would surly be an answer the good Doc would understand. He didn't need to be a seer to know where such a kind of answer would bring him: namely into a white cell, sedated with some drugs and the key thrown far away. No, the doctor expected to see some guilt – and he would give her that.

Looking down at the floor, he finally answered with an unsure and young sounding voice, "I'm not sure... I mean, I killed two man..." He looked up again, avoiding her eyes, "I really didn't want to kill them, but...," letting the last words trail off, he let the expression of guilt appear on his face.

When the gentle eyes of the doctor looked at him in sympathy, he really felt regret for a short moment: not for the two dead Immortals but for himself; a second he had the impression that the killing had robbed something of him - something he had already lost once a long time ago; but then the moment was gone.

They talked for about one hour about his feelings. The doctor told him that it had not been his fault; that he should not feel guilty because the other had attacked him first and not the other way around; and that he had no other choice than to fight if he wanted to survive.

After Duncan had arrived and taken Adam with him, the doctor stared at the closed door of her office, a slight frown on her face. Something was definitely strange. Most of the time Adam had made a normal impression to her, but for some seconds she had meant to face a totally different person, a person that made her shudder. She wasn't sure yet if this was only a temporary after-effect of the quickening or not, but she decided to keep an eye on him – a very close eye.

The rat-part is a reference to your comment (chapter1), Village-Mystic