Methos exited the building, his backpack in his hand. He was about to sling it over his shoulder when he felt the approach of another Immortal. It was probably Danae, he thought, so he called out her name, and then added "MacLeod?" when she didn't show herself. His query sounded less confident, even to his own ears.

He turned slightly, looking around, and hoping it wasn't the Immortal Danae had tangled with earlier. His expression went from warily to shocked in a matter of seconds, as a knife suddenly embedded itself in his chest. He hadn't heard the blade, but he felt sure enough. Cold steel and sharp pain.

The owner of the knife -- another surprise -- stepped forward, smiling at him. "Greetings, brother."

"Kronos." The word choked in his throat, only escaping with Methos's last breath and he fell to the ground. Kronos' grinning, malevolent face was the last thing Methos saw before darkness took him, mouthing words Methos could no long hear.

Methos awoke sometime later, feeling groggy and sore. He looked around and found himself to be in what looked like some sort of old power plant. It was dingy, at any rate. As he assessed his situation, Kronos approached carrying a hook and chain. They look heavy and Methos hoped they weren't for him. He couldn't imagine what Kronos wanted with him, but he knew it wouldn't be pleasant.

"Been a long time," Kronos said. "How are you feeling?"

Methos coughed, found his speech and answered, "Like I left my heart in San Fransisco."

"I didn't know you had a heart. Does it hurt?"

"What do you think?" was Methos's caustic reply, and he rolled over in an attempt to get up.

"Since you ask?" Kronos knelt and pushed Methos onto his back again. "I think you're not used to pain, brother. What's happened, you got soft!"

"I just passed through my angry adolescence a little quicker than you, Kronos," Methos shot back angrily. It probably wasn't a good idea to antagonize his former 'brother' but it was what they'd always done. Kronos would expect that much.

And overlook it. "For a long time I thought you were dead. I didn't even bother looking for you."

Could you go back to not looking, Methos thought as he tried one more time to get up. Kronos didn't stop him, this time, and continued speaking. He always had loved the sound of his own voice.

"Then I started hearing the strangest things... talk of the 'worlds oldest man' going around talking about peace and an end to the Game." Here he laughed, a cold and heartless sound. Methos laughed with him, though his was hollow. Even though it had been an imposter, the rumors had led Kronos to him. Kronos stopped laughing suddenly and glared. "You slipped up there, old friend. You got sloppy."

"Well, we're none of us perfect," Methos answered, almost modestly.

Kronos' eyes narrowed and scowled, but that was all the consideration he gave Methos' flippant response. "I shouldn't be surprised you're still alive," he went on. "You were always the one I counted on. You weren't the strongest or the toughest, but you were the survivor. It's what you do best. Or did."

Or did, now that sounded promising, Methos thought. He wondered what Kronos was up to. He wondered how he was going to stop him once he found out. Or if he could at all. "So you've come to kill me."

Kronos sat down next to him. "It's what I do best!" he said, cheerful. "But you do have a choice."

"Oh, I'm all for choices." Kronos was right about one thing; Methos was a survivor. And he didn't get that way by being an idiot. He'd play Kronos for as long as he could, hear his 'choice' (although he feared he knew what it was) and then make a run for it if he could.

Kronos' face took on a menacing smile. "Join me, brother. Or die."

"Since you put it that way . . ." Methos answered, drawing out his decision while his raced. He didn't like Kronos' tone of voice. He knew it all too well; it spelled trouble in more ways than one. And for a lot of people. Methos didn't want to join up with Kronos, not by along shot. He was tired of that life, had thought he'd left it behind centuries ago. He was out of practice, despite Danae's best attempts to keep him in training. Danae... what if Kronos had been the Immortal who'd gotten Danae so worked up earlier? He had to find out... and that meant letting Kronos believe they were on the same side. "Welcome back, brother."