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June 19, 1997 - 12:57 a.m. - Detroit, Michigan
He walked along the dank streets. The dull street lights barely lit his path. It was hot and humid despite the sun having set long ago, and Methos definitely did not want to be in downtown Detroit right now. He muttered something to himself and kept on walking. He said he would do a favor for an old "friend," and although Methos wasn't known for keeping his word he had know Robert for a long time.
Robert was a 4,000+ year old immortal who had run into Methos on various occasions, usually on good terms, but not always. Robert was not his real name, but it was the name he used now. In the late 1800's, he had run into an immortal at a saloon. They had both been drinking heavily, and egos overcame judgement. Robert had won the head, but his arm was sliced off during the battle, making future confrontations with immortals highly difficult, to say the least. That is why Methos was contacted.
The message had come the prior evening. Methos was to deliver a package to an immortal that had been known to get violent and drunk, and usually at the same time (Robert had a knack for finding people like that). It seems Robert had borrowed some currency from this gentleman, and it was time to pay back the money that was owed. Robert had avoided fighting ever since the accident, and since he had only one arm he could not risk fighting now. It's not that Methos wanted to risk fighting either, but Robert needed help, and Methos was the only person Robert knew that was still alive and on relatively friendly terms.
Methos walked along the street and turned a corner. He made his way to the building where he was instructed to go. The immortal "buzz" came to him, and he took a few sharp glances around. Out of the shadows appeared an older looking man, slowly walking towards Methos. "Methos you old devil!" the figure shouted.
"Hello, Bob," Methos responded. As Robert walked in the light he saw just how effective the plastic surgery had been. In a way to change identities after the accident, Robert altered his appearance so that he would appear to be an old man. Robert made up some elaborate stories to cover himself, and he had been living this new life for a while. Methos often wondered how he managed to pull it off, since the new alias had such a descriptive background, not to mention he had been a high profile figure in the past few decades. Methos also took note of the realistic looking fake arm. The only give away (besides Methos knew he had no arm) was that the arm remained in the same posistion.
"You made it" Robert said.
"Yes, I did." Methos replied. "We're alone? How the hell did you manage that?" Robert smiled softly. "Let me guess," Methos said, "You have your ways."
"You know it" Robert responded in an upbeat voice, which then turned serious. "You also know why you are here. Your help is needed, Methos."
"Yes, I know. As soon as you give me the location I can help you out."
"Excellent, my friend, excellent."
"Well?" Methos said, "I do not normally do this, so you better tell me quick before I change my mind."
June 19 - 1:28 a.m.
Methos carried the package under his arm as he climbed the stairs to apartment 6B. It had only been a 12 minute walk to the building, but it was humid out and Methos was covered in sweat. He was also cranky. He didn't feel like walking up the stairs of one of the filthiest, run down rat holes in the city. "Doesn't Detroit believe in bloody elevators?" Methos grumbled to himself as he passed the 4th floor. It's not that Methos was not in shape, it was just that he doesn't normally need to climb six flights of stairs. As he reached the 5th floor he made sure that his sword was readily accessible, not to mention a small dagger and a bottle of mace, if that was needed. Methos may not be a great swordsman, but he isn't stupid. In this game you play for keeps. Methos wasn't above getting....creative...to win.
He reached the 6th floor and walked over to the door marked 6B, while avoiding cockroaches and other things Methos did not care to identify. He felt the familiar buzzing and put himself on guard. Before he could even knock the door swung upon and out jumped a man in nothing more than a robe, with a whiskey bottle in one hand and a sword in the other. The only thing threatening about this man was that he rose 6 feet 8 inches off the ground and could probably crush buicks with his teeth. His breath agreed with that theory.
"Who are ya? Idennify yerself b'fore I cut yer head off" the man said.
"Please, don't make me laugh. I'm suprised you can stand. I came here to deliver something to you." Methos said.
"Yeah? Wah ya got?"
"The money that is owed to you."
"You don' look lik' Robbuh-"
"I am delivering it for him" Methos cut the man off.
"Oh." The man took a swig of whiskey from the bottle. "Well, han' it ovuh."
"Here, take it." He handed the package over.
"Thank you. Uh course, now ya hafta die."
Methos sighed to himself. It never goes smooth, no matter what situation, no matter what task, it never goes smooth. Methos took out his sword. The man raised his sword high above his head. He brought it down in a mighty rush. Methos dodged to the right. The man clanged his sword against the ground and stumbled forward. He went to turn back around and fell over. The man then vomited on himself as he sat on the floor.
"Oh, God..." Methos said in disgust.
Methos could have easily taken the head, since the man was obviously no threat, but one minute longer and the stench would make him vomit too.
"Moron" Methos spat as he left the hall and went back downstairs.
June 19 - 1:44 a.m.
Methos made it back to the place where he left Robert. He explained the events to Robert and assured him the package had been delivered.
"Thank you, Methos" Robert said.
"No problem Bob. Just don't find out you owe anyone else anything, because I may not come to help. I can't risk my neck for every person I've ever know that gets into a little trouble."
"Aw, Methos, you're a regular Mother Theresa."
"Hey, I haven't lived this long by being a nice guy."
The conversation was interrupted by fire engine and emergency ambulance sirens. There were about 6 vehicles all together that drove past.
"Neither have I" Robert began after the noise died down. "You know that package I gave you? That wasn't money inside. It was explosives."
"What?!"
"The timer was set for 30 minutes. It's a good thing he passed out or he might have discovered that it wasn't money. I thought it would have taken you longer."
"Excuse me, I could have been killed."
"But you weren't, were you?"
"You really are a bastard, you know that?"
"Ha! You know it. "
"Good old Bob. Hmmm. I have a plane to catch. I best be going."
"It was good seeing you again. Anytime you need anything, just call your old friend Bob Dole."
"Yes, I know. See you around, Bob."
"Take care. And remember to vote for me in the next election!"
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