MEGATOKYO, JAPAN - LATE MAY 2033

     Priss came home to an empty trailer.  She was disappointed because she
wished to share her moment of triumph with Methos.  After the battle, they
had returned to Sylia's and de-suited.  Then Patrick walked her back to her
motorcycle.
     "You ride?" she had asked.
     Patrick laughed.
     "What's so funny?"
     "I spent three quarters of my life on horseback.  A motorcycle is just
a horse with a bad attitude and worse breath.  Not my idea of a fun time."
     "Whatever.  To each his own."
     "Seriously, Priss, we have to talk."
     Priss paused, then nodded.  "You're leaving, aren't you?"
     "Not right now, but within the next week or so.  When a young Immortal
enters the Game, they either leave the Teacher, or the Teacher leaves them,
to enable them to find their own path.  That's the way it was for me, that's
the way it was for my Teacher, and that's the way it was for _his_ Teacher."
     "But why?  I can still learn so _much_ from you."
     Patrick stared at her, slightly astonished.
     "What?" Priss said.
     "That doesn’t sound like the Priss Asagiri that I met a month and a
half ago."
     Priss shrugged.  "She's gone.  She died with Li Chin."
     Patrick nodded.  "I understand."
     "You do?"
     "Absolutely.  I'll talk to you tomorrow."  She turned away from him.
"And Priss?"
     She turned back and looked at him questioningly.
     "You did a good thing tonight."
     Priss smiled.  "I did, didn't I?"
     "Now don't get cocky on me."

     She rode around the city for about an hour in her exhilaration, until
exhaustion got the better of her and she headed home, but was greeted by the
empty trailer.  She shrugged.  She undressed, then slid into bed.  In the
relative quiet of the early morning, Kowalski's memories swirled, coalesced,
and gave her clarity, much like Li Chin's.  However, where Li Chin's clarity
was only there for a moment before disappearing, _this_ clarity stayed and
grew stronger until she couldn't stand it any more.
     "Son of a fucking BITCH!"  She bolted upright in her bed, picked up the
phone, and dialed Patrick's number.  It rang once, twice, three times, four...
     "N'glo..."
     "Patrick."
     "Priss?"  She could hear Patrick's voice grow more aware.  "Something
wrong?"
     "I know.  It all makes sense."
     "What does?"
     "Everything.  Quincy _is_ an Immortal."
     "Are you _sure_?"
     "Surer than I've ever been about anything.  It was in Li Chin's
Quickening, but I couldn't make any sense of it.  Now, with Kowalski's..." 
     Patrick understood.  "What're you gonna do about it?"
     "Go there and find out _why_ he sent Kowalski.  And you can't stop me."
     "I wasn't going to.  I'll be there in ten minutes.  I'm coming too."

     Several minutes later, there was a knock at her door.  "Come in."
     Nene entered.
     "Nene?  What're you doing here?"
     Nene looked at Priss sadly.  "I'm sorry I didn't tell you before.  The
Watchers..."
     "You joined the Watchers?"
     "Not officially.  At least not yet, but I've been training and doing a
lot of computer work for them.  But they told me I couldn't tell you... but
I -_have_ to.  Friendship's more important.  Quincy..."
     "I know."
     "You do?"
     "Yup."  There was another knock.  "But I've gotta go now.  I'll talk to
you tomorrow."
     "Priss..."
     "Nene, I promise you I'll be back."

     "So how do we get there?" Priss said after Nene left.
     "That's the problem, isn't it?"
     "You never answered my question, you know."
     "About what?"
     "Riding.  If you ride, I've got a spare bike."
     Patrick smiled.  "Sure, what the hell.  Get it out.  What've we got to
lose.  We're gonna confront, maybe even kill, the most powerful man on the
planet.  Why the hell not."
     Priss wheeled out the second bike.  Patrick put the helmet on, sat on
the saddle, and started it.  He gunned the engine as Priss started her own
bike.  Then they were off, speeding towards the GENOM tower and destiny, a
destiny of their own choosing.

     "Kowalski is dead," Annie said.
     "Asagiri?  Or O'Brien?" Quincy said.
     "Asagiri.  And our intelligence has informed us that they're heading here."
     Quincy stood and laughed.  "Take Pierson with you and greet them at the
door.  I'll see them."
     "Me?" Methos said.
     "What seems to be the problem, Pierson?  Didn't you tell her what you
did for a living?"

     They pulled up to the front of the GENOM tower just as two figures
emerged.  Patrick stared at the woman, the man's features were still hidden.
"Annie.  Been a long time."
     "Aye," Annie said.
     "The purple hair suits you."
     "The forked tongue has always suited you, traitor."
     "So why aren't you in Ireland still?"
     "Because I'm the head of Security of the most powerful conglomerate in
the world.  Because from here I can insure that the _bastards_ who oppressed
my people pay."
     "Give it up, Annie.  It's over.  Long done with."
     "You two know each other?" Priss said.  "That's Kate Madigan, head of
GENOM security."
     "Yeah, we know each other.  Priss, meet Annie Devlin.  She used to be
an Irish terrorist, sorry, freedom fighter.  She accuses me of selling our
people out when she was the one killing innocent civilians.  I think you'll
find _she's_ the one responsible for ordering a lot of boomer rampages."
     Annie was about to reply but held her tongue.  Instead, she said, "The
Chairman doesn’t like to be kept waiting."  She turned to go back into the
Tower.  Priss and Patrick climbed the stairs.  The features of the man began
to resolve themselves as the two of them grew used to the light streaming
out from inside.
     "_You_!"
     "Priss," Methos said sadly.  "You shouldn't have come.  You should
_never_ have come here."
     "What the _hell_ are you doing here, Adam?"
     Methos sighed.  "This is where I work."
     "Come on," Annie said, ushering them into an elevator.  "You can all
have your reunion later."

     The ride up the elevator was awkward, to say the least.  Priss kept
glaring at Methos, and Patrick had to keep from drawing his sword and
beheading Methos _and_ Annie right there on the spot.  Eventually, the
elevator stopped and the four walked out into the huge office.  The ceilings
were at least 30 feet high, and the window behind the desk looked out onto
the city, spread out like a lake of light beneath them.
     "Welcome, Irelander," boomed a deep baritone from the impressive
looking man sitting behind the desk with his hands folded.  "My name is
Quincy, and I have heard a lot about you." 
     "And I, you.  Except about your Immortality."  Quincy _was_ a magnetic
individual, Patrick could feel the magnetism emanating from the man.  But
then again, Hitler was charismatic as well.
     "Oh, Quincy isn't my real name, of course.  No, I staged my death a
long time ago, when I decided to give up soldiering and try my hand at
business, something that I have been extremely successful at ever since.
Most Immortals think I died in the 1800's.  Quincy is only my most recent
name.  Of course, I've kept my name out of Watcher records, as well." 
     "You know about the Watchers?"
     "I'd be surprised to find one of us who _doesn’t_ know."
     Patrick stole a glance at Priss.  Her fists were clenched, and her
knuckles were white.  However, attack was useless.  Not only were there two
other Immortals in the room, but there were boomer bodyguards as well.
     "But that isn't why I allowed you to see me," Quincy continued.  "I
wanted you to find out just what you were up against and offer you this
choice.  Work for me, leave Japan, or die."
     "You BASTARD!!!"  Priss had her sword out and was lunging at Quincy.
     "STOP!!! HOLY GROUND!!"
     Priss stopped in her tracks.
     Quincy laughed, a small chuckle at first, then a deep bellowing laugh.
     "You mind telling us what's so funny?" Patrick said.  "And what was the
meaning of that Holy Ground remark?"
     "Of course," Quincy said.  "When we were digging the foundation for the
GENOM tower after the Earthquake, our engineers came across something very
peculiar.  We called in some archeologists, and they confirmed what I
suspected, they had found a ruined, buried, Edo-era Buddhist Shrine.  I
immediately contacted the architects and had them place my offices and
apartments directly above the shrine.  So you cannot kill me, or any other
Immortal here.  But that is not all.  Since that time, I've never left the
Tower.  If I have to make a public appearance, I send a boomer double,
insuring my safety.  So you see, I'm not only out of the Game, I've
_already_ won the Prize!  With these rooms to run the company from, no
Immortal can ever fight me.  GENOM has enough power that it will rule the
world forever, and _I_ am GENOM."
     "And Kowalski?  How did he fit in?"
     "Kowalski was a tool, nothing more.  For security reasons, I prefer to
have all Immortals in MegaTokyo either on my side through idealistic
similarities like Madigan, monetary means like Pierson here, or dead.  If
they couldn't be bought, I sent Kowalski.  Eventually I would have briefly
stepped out of the Tower and taken his head."
     Patrick walked over to Priss and put a hand on her shoulder, squeezing
it affectionately.  "Come on, let's go.  It's over.  We've lost."
     "It's _not_ over," Priss hissed.
     "What else can we do?  This is Holy Ground."
     "I don't believe him!"
     "Do you want to take that chance?"
     "Priss," came Methos' voice, "Quincy tells the truth."
     "You lied to me from the beginning!  Why should I believe you now?"
     Methos turned away, hiding the tears which had begun to form.
     "Priss," Patrick said.
     She nodded sadly.  "All right."
     "What is your choice, O'Brien?" Quincy said.  "You step out that door
and you die.  Madigan has wanted your head for a _long_ time.  Or, choose to
turn this quite ignominious defeat into your ultimate triumph.  Come work
for me and share the Prize.  I can hire you as her assistant."
     "Assistant?"
     "I grow weary of these rooms.  With you as my personal bodyguard, I can
go out into the world again.  Any Immortal who wishes to challenge me will
have to fight you, and you are one of the best."
     "Don't do it, Patrick," Priss said.
     Patrick sneered.  "This is _your_ Prize, Quincy.  Live with it."
     "So you die.  He's yours, Madigan."
     Was it worth dying for?  Patrick didn't think so.  But was it worth the
paranoia?  Again, probably not.  Suddenly, Patrick had an idea. "Quincy, you
know a lot about me."
     "Yes."
     "And you know that my word is my bond."
     "I know you have never broken it."
     "Then I give you my word, so long as you remain in power, I will not
oppose you, and you will not send anyone, mortal, Immortal, boomer, or
boomeroid, after me.  Is that agreeable?"
     Quincy smiled, then nodded.  "It is agreeable."
     Patrick breathed a sigh of relief.  "Come on, Priss.  Let's go."

     They were silent all the way back down, and all the way back to Priss'
trailer.  After they parked the bikes, Priss walked to the trailer entrance.
Then she turned.  "Why did you do that?"
     "What?"
     "Vow to never oppose him?"
     "You said it yourself.  I still have a lot to Teach.  Besides, my oath
doesn’t extend to my Students.  I can still Teach them to oppose him.  Given
the choice between death, working for him which would be just waiting for
death, or a chance at life..."
     Priss smiled.  "I understand.  Eventually he's gonna screw up, and when
he does, my sword will be there, right at his neck."
     Patrick returned the smile.  "I don't doubt it."

(concluded…)
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