�You know he�s good. He�s got seven hundred years on you and trained under Deubonette and Ra� Chen. He chased me out of India in �32 and I didn�t look back on the flight out because I knew he was a better sword than I.�

�I know that. You told me about him when we met in Paris.�

�And I warned you to stay the hell clear of him, didn�t I?�

�You did.�

�Did you for one fucking time listen to me?�

�I always listen to you, Connor.� His sigh was a grumble that bounced off glass. �I just don�t always obey.�

The Scot behind him, standing close to the bottle of liquor but not drinking it, snorted. �So, what�s he done that twitted your sensibilities into thinking you should go after him?�

�Nothing.�

Silence

�Nothing?�

�Not one thing. He got in touch because he heard I was good.� Duncan turned from the floor to ceiling window and gazed directly at Connor. His eyes were dark shadows and sunlight streamed around him from outside. �He said he�s tired of the two-bit players that come gunning for him�he wants a real fight for a change. I�m�� he paused, checked, groping for the right word, ��entertainment.�

Connor looked raw. The crispness of his white shirt amplified the sullen rage that flared in his eyes, now gone black beneath his brows. He didn�t clench his fists, Duncan noted. Connor was too old and experienced to let his fury reach any part of his body save his stare.

�When?�

�Tonight. The old Raleigh District. There are two warehouses and a wrecking yard there.�

�Three dogs in that wrecking yard and the spotted one is the one to watch,� returned Connor.

Duncan only looked mildly surprised. Connor knew his territory and every angle. It was one of the reasons someone brewing a fight in greater New York wasn�t much of a threat to him�he had a kinsman who knew every alley and dim streetlight within seventeen blocks. His smile was grim when it came and he nodded at the man mere steps from him. �I�d better go.�

The familiar arm clasp that had seen them through centuries. And no goodbyes. Ever. But the rasp of voice halted him near the ascension of the stairway.

�Tell him I�ll be looking for him.� Why Connor MacLeod would be looking went unsaid.

Duncan paused and turned his head, knowing the flat look had taken residence in his features. He was already gone from here�off to the approaching fight, settling into readiness. He could feel the current in his blood. �Like hell you will,� he said quietly. �Because I�m going to kill him. That scotch better be poured when I get back.�

And it was.

~finis~
MacNair, May 22, 2004

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