When he walked in the front door of the dojo and sensed the unmistakable buzz of not one, but two Immortals, he should’ve turned around and walked the other way. A fact Duncan was currently kicking himself for not heeding, as he backed up against the kitchen island. His eyes flickered despairingly to his coat, too far to reach, and the katana hidden in its lining.
“You’ve gone mad, the both of you,” he said incredulously, staring at the pair who had been lurking in wait for him; two of his oldest friends, now advancing menacingly upon him like wild dogs, circling in for the kill. “Are you daft? Methos! Amanda, what’ve I done to deserve this?”
“Sorry Duncan, darling. It has to be done,” Amanda said, almost apologetically.
“We discussed it, and really, it’s for the best, MacLeod,” Adam shrugged indifferently. “If it’s any consolation, it was mostly Amanda’s idea.”
“What?!” He tried to inch towards the door. Methos caught the movement and shifted swiftly in to block the escape. “Some friends you are! Well you cannae! I’ll no let you touch a hair on my head!”
“Come now Duncan, you must’ve seen this coming,” Amanda purred. Light gleamed off the surface of the blades in her hand, sparkling dangerously.
“Yeah MacLeod,” Methos taunted, chuckling, “Think of it as...a mercy killing. We promise you won’t feel a thing.”
The thief pounced, Methos close behind, and Duncan was lost in a flurry of silver flashes and tangled limbs.
“Gerroff me! No! NO!” He flailed helplessly, but the thief and the eldest man were far too quick.
Methos settled onto MacLeod’s back, pinning the Scot to the floor as Amanda snipped the scissors with a cheeky smirk. “Quit being a baby, MacLeod. The ponytail has got to go.”