In Paris, the sensation of another Immortal in the back of his head wasn't terribly unexpected; there were a lot of his kind haunting the city of lights these days, largely thanks to one Duncan MacLeod. Sometimes friends, sometimes headhunters, and it was a good idea to determine which before taking off in the other direction.

A quick glance about revealed no familiar faces-- Well. One, but this face wasn't from any past encounter, or Watchers' file, no. This was a face that had been seen across video reels and television screens for decades now, and--

"Oh you have got to be kidding me," Methos muttered under his breath.