Scarfing down another giant bite of burger, he reflected on the note he'd recieved earlier. "Three of us," eh? Cade patted his left side absentmindedly, to reassure himself of his gun's continued presence. He was not planning on being surprised this time.

..........

Methos had taken a quick stroll past Mac's place around 7pm. The air was balmy, and he noted with some sense of satisfaction that the weather wasn't too cold and the ground was dry.

And Mac still wasn't there. The bastard.

He got to the warehouse he'd designated on the note 15 minutes before scheduled. Out of sheer boredom, he began some elementary stretches, getting his muscles limbered up in case they were really needed. He gave himself a mental pat on the back for choosing these ratty clothes; if this guy he was meeting decided to use any of his toys on him, he'd need his clothes to be as expendable and dark as possible.

He hated dying, he really did...

His head whipped around. Methos could hear someone trying to walk very quietly down the alleyway; he figured it was this other "Adam Pierson", a full 8 minutes early, too. Smart man.

..........

Cade made his way cautiously through the alley. He didn't like this meeting, didn't like the idea of being so far away from crowds in which a person could get lost easily.

Methos steadied himself in the shadows. He wasn't getting an Immortal signature off this man; a good sign, he figured. As soon as the faux-Pierson slinked past, Methos stepped out silently, and raised his sword.

More on instinct than anything else, Cade swung around, his gun already in his hand and aimed approximately where a person's torso would be.

**********

Methos levelled his Ivanhoe. "Who are you?"

Cade steadied his Glock's aim. "I might ask you the same question."

"Well, for one, it appears we are using the same name. I find that to be an odd coincidence, don't you?" A small smirk appeared on Methos' otherwise grim face.

Cade's eyes narrowed even more. "If I didn't know better, I'd say it's more than a coincidence." He glanced quickly at the sword. "And it looks like you've got more explaining to do than me, quite frankly."

"Oh? Why is that?"

"Well, you're holding a sword. I was under the impression swordfighting went the way of the dodo a hundred years ago." All the same, Foster thought, it might be good to find a way out of this situation...

To his surprise, his opponent considered this, and lowered his blade. "I suppose you've got a point. Now, I've lowered mine, why don't you do the same?"

"How do I know I can trust you?"

Again, the enigmatic smirk. "You don't. You merely have the word of a man who pulled a sword on you, and didn't kill you with it. In some cultures, that's a big taboo."

At least he was honest. Cade lowered the gun, but he didn't go so far as to put it away. Not just yet.

"So... why are you here, using my name?" Methos asked.

"Who says it's yours?" Lame, he knew, but he had to say something. Anything but the truth.

This amused the other man, to Cade's eternal chagrin. "I do. So I ask again, why are you using my name?"

When Cade didn't answer fast enough, Methos cut in. "Let me guess. It was the first name to cross your mind." When Foster looked away, Methos nodded. "I thought so. Blind luck, of all things..." he trailed off to himself.

Cade couldn't explain it, but this made him feel incredibly put-down. Like he was some kind of kid. "Yeah, well, it's clear it's not your name, either. Adam Pierson my ass. You look more like a Peter, or, ah, something starting with an 'M', I don't know, but definitely not an Adam." He realized he must sound even more infantile, but he didn't miss the sudden hostile front that came up when he mentioned the 'M' thing.

"Oh, and you're the expert, are you? Let me guess, you're a cat burgler." Seeing the shock on Cade's face, he nodded. "Don't worry. I've known plenty of thieves in my day. I also have no wish to involve any sort of law enforcement whatsoever. Somehow, I think you'd agree with me on that."

Cade had to agree there. "So, which one of us was really summoned here?"

Methos admired the night sky for a moment before answering. "I think it should be fairly obvious. You." Before Foster could interrupt, Methos continued. "I had to see who was using my name, and this seemed to be a good idea. Look, do you want to go to this bar I know? It's late, and I don't know about you, but I could do with a beer." He seemed to have set aside previous hostilities at the thought of a cold brew.

As if by magic, the sword had disappeared. As he started toward the street, he looked over his shoulder. "Coming?" he queried.

Mouth open in confusion, Cade shook his head, concealed his weapon, and followed Methos out.

**********


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