Sandcastles

By Darian

Howdy guys new chapter to my story. Sorry that it takes me so long to update but my Real life is conflicting with my other more interesting one. Never ever attend two colleges with daily schedule at the same time: it really messes up your spare time 8o)))

Chapter Six

The building looked in a good shape. Someone had carefully removed all the old graffiti that decorated its walls and its clean red bricks almost shone compared to the sloughing plaster of the other buildings around.

"Well if nothing else at least they kept the sign," the world's oldest Immortal commented as he went under the big blue neon sign that read Joe´s bar, closely followed by the highland warrior.

As they entered the building their eardrums were instantly attacked with loud music from the band that was currently playing on the small stage on the left side of the bar.

Methos´s eyes immediately flew to the young looking bartender that was tending it.

Wesley Price. Age 28. Princeton grad. Six feet tall, brown hair, blue eyes with glasses. Not exactly bad looking but no Brad Pitt either. He was currently wearing a long sleeved black t-shirt (to cover his watcher tattoo) and faded blue jeans. No interesting features whatsoever, almost kind of boorish face. A poster child for ordinary.

In the other words, great material for a watcher recruit. Even I couldn´t have chosen a better candidate myself. He's exactly the person that will blend into any environment without a question. Well, they've had almost four thousand years of practice of spying on really dangerous people with really sharp pointy metallic objects that tend to kill first and ask no questions later, so of course they had to know their stuff. But still a good job.

He'd seen the kid´s picture before in his Watcher file, but everyone looks kind of boring on their passport picture. Compared with reality, it actually looked more interesting than the real thing.

The Watcher's database was still too easy for him to crack, it didn´t even take him longer than five minutes to get through their security system that was supposed to protect the most guarded secret on this planet, the existence of the Immortal race and the Watchers, without any trace.

Price´s resume was kind of a short one. He'd had only one assignment since graduating the Watcher Academy two years ago. His post was as a Watcher apprentice to the Cassandra´s (Methos had to suppress a shiver when he first ran across her name) regular Watcher who was planning to retire next year. Kid was trained as his permanent replacement, but somebody in the Council decided that it would be much better if they assigned her a female Watcher. So the kid was send back to Headquarters to be reassigned as a temporary help to the archive staff.

At least according to his file the kid has no ties to Horton´s Hunting Party 101. They were long gone and the few that managed to escape went deep underground before he even joined the organization. He'd stumbled upon a Quickening during a car accident that ended with a decapitation of an young Immortal due to the windshield of all things. Not even a witness of a proper challenge. Pfff. Well, if I know the Highlander, your life is going to get much more interesting in the near future, kid. If I were you, Price, I would rather start to dust up on my knowledge of ancient prophecies, demons, freaky Quickening powers and evil Immortals that want to rule the world. It wouldn´t hurt to add some really intensive self defense courses too. One never knows what our dear Millennium Champion will stumble across the next time.

The world's oldest Immortal shuddered at the thought of upcoming catastrophes in the near future. The Highlander had the tendency to attract dangerous situations like the light attracted moths.

Methos gloomy thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the aforementioned champion as he tugged on his sleeve.

"Do you want to sit at the bar, or should we get a table?"

"The table would be better, I want to check out the new bands and I hate when people scream their orders next to my ear."

"All right then. I will get the beer, you choose the table."

Macleod marched purposely to the bar through the rather large crowd, for such an early hour. The bar was almost half full and it wasn´t even after ten AM.

European people sure like their liquor. He'd learned that the hard way when he'd visited Germany at the end of 18th century and let himself be drawn into a wager with the locals that he could drink them under the table. It actually ended the exact opposite way, with him sleeping it off in a nearby barn, too drunk to walk back to the inn where his room was. He was lucky there was no Immortal near that night or his five thousand years long life would have ended rather embarrassingly.

Methos noticed as the young Watcher tried not to look excited as his charge came to give him his order. Healmost succeeded. Well, if you overlooked his expression that was reminiscent of an eager puppy. The world's oldest Immortal rolled his eyes as he sat at the nearest empty table under the stage. He kept his back turned to the bar so the kid couldn´t gawk at his face and write down his description for his next report.

Great, another Highlander fan with a hero worship complex, just what we needed.

TBC

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