"Trouble at six o'clock." McCloud stiffened, but did not turn around. Rose watched as two more Highlanders followed their friend over to the table.

"Hey, I was talkin' to you." Rose looked up at the lead Highlander. Red-rimmed eyes stared back with malice. Rose could feel the atmosphere of the room change as people vacated a nearby table.

"I was just looking for the waitress, friend." Rose considered standing, but the challenge of the gesture would be too much to miss. The drunk leaned into the back of Rose's chair, throwing the balance forward. Rose was forced to lean onto the table or rest his head on the man's stomach.

"Friend, of a coward like you? Not on the longest day you ever lived." Rose stiffened at the words, but managed to remain in his seat. His smile was plastered in place for the three drunks, but a knot was growing in his stomach.

"He doesn't like us much, does he, Ian?" Rose looked up at the second bully, who moved behind Rachel's chair. He leered at Rose above McCloud's head, his yellow teeth poking through a tangle of black beard. The third man laughed in false mirth as he ran a hand through his blond hair. Rose felt the knot harden and start to burn.

"Can you imagine," asked the first, "this man leading Highlanders into battle?"

"Then coming home to a woman as beautiful as this?" finished the second. He dropped his hands on McCloud's shoulders for emphasis. Despite the attempt to remain calm, Rose stiffened as he waited for McCloud's reaction. He knew she was ready to react, but she continued to stare straight ahead.

"I'll give you some credit," continued the first. "Coming back to Northwind took some guts. I mean, I didn't think anybody was stupid enough to try to return to the Highlanders after running out on them."

"How about it, Angel? Is this guy really that brave, or is he just stupid?" Rose and the three Highlanders all looked toward McCloud, who continued to stare straight ahead. The second bully had begun to rub her shoulders, evidently encouraged by her lack of response. Rose tried to relax and let the tension flow out of his muscles, but the fire that had started in his stomach was spreading quickly. He was shocked when McCloud actually answered the question.

"I can't say much about his courage." She turned her head toward Rose and slowly reached across her body to pat the top of the hand massaging her right shoulder. " And as for brains, hell, this table top has a higher I. Q." She stopped patting the Highlander's hand and threw a look of disgust at Rose. The three standing men began to laugh, mirthlessly at first, but with genuine feeling once they saw the crushed look on Rose's face.

Rachel reached up with her right hand and slightly rotated the laughing Highlander's right hand off her shoulder, twisting the palm out. He looked down at her, but his alcohol-wrapped brain did not register what was going on until McCloud gripped his ring finger with the other hand and swiftly yanked it back.

The bone let go with a pop, but McCloud kept up the pressure, bending the digit all the way back to the top of the man's hand. He tried to yell, but nothing came out. He tried to back away, but McCloud came out of the chair and followed him.

Rose took McCloud's lead, reacting immediately with the pop of the Highlander's broken finger. Leaning forward on his chair, he shot his right foot into the shin of the leader. The mule kick slipped off the bone, however, merely cracking it instead of breaking it cleanly in two. The man came down heavily on the chair, pushing Rose into the table. With a quick spin off his left foot, Rose was free of the chair and facing his attacker.

The man had recovered quickly and was already picking up Rose's discarded chair. The few customers remaining in the immediate area scattered as the man charged Rose, the chair over his head.

With a roar he brought the chair crashing down in a two-handed blow intended to drive Rose through the floor. Rose, however, was no longer in the chair's path.

Stepping inside the chair's arc, he seized the man's left wrist as the chair continued to fall, simultaneously driving his right hand into the man's stomach. Pivoting to the left, Rose continued the motion started by the punch and spun in a half-circle, crouching slightly as he turned. The attacker's momentum carried him forward, but the punch had broken his balance. He slammed into Rose's back, his extended left arm over the top of Rose's shoulder. With a quick upward thrust, Rose catapulted the man through the air, pulling in the left wrist as the man cartwheeled over his head.

The Highlander slammed into the ground, his legs forming a clapboard that smashed his testicles and expelled what little air remained in his lungs. Finishing the move, Rose stepped on the man's ribs just under the armpit and jerked up on the wrist. The shoulder popped out of the socket with a hollow sound and the fingers went limp. Rose dropped the wrist and looked for McCloud.

The first attacker had lost all interest in the fight, but McCloud would not release his hand. Instead of fighting back, he was trying to keep the hand as still as possible to save the finger from further punishment. His friend, however, was not thinking of defense. As Rose looked up, he hit McCloud behind the ear with a bottle. The glass splintered just above the neck as McCloud went down to one knee. The Highlander with the broken hand finally managed to pull free as his friend continued the attack. With his free hand he grabbed the back of McCloud's hair, forcing her head back. Rose looked for something to throw at the attacker, but nothing was in reach. In desperation, he yelled.

It was not the yell of a frightened or angry man. The single note was more like the release of an avenging spirit into the room. For an instant everyone in the bar stood motionless.

Rose used the moment to dive across the table that separated him from McCloud and her attacker. He landed on his hands and tumbled over his landing spot to rise in a crouch. McCloud's attacker had regained his wits and resumed his strike with the broken bottle. As his hand went down, Rose shot forward. Their hands met centimeters above McCloud's face. The force of Rose's blow diverted the bottle attack, but the glass ripped through McCloud's shirt and drew three thin lines of blood along her shoulder.

The attacker dropped McCloud to the floor and slashed wildly at Rose. The Highlander knew he was outmatched, but was beyond caring. He slashed again each time Rose feinted. Although his moves were crude, the man had a solid defense and was beginning to build an offense. By constant movement and use of the slashing bottle, he held his ground against Rose until McCloud reentered the fight.

The constant movement had forced the Highlander toward the bar and McCloud's coiled legs. With his attention focused on Rose, he never noticed McCloud's kick until his ankle broke. He fell to the ground, face to face with McCloud, a look of amazement on his face. McCloud kicked him several times as she hastily stood, but the man was no longer interested in fighting.

Rose placed his hand lightly on her good shoulder. "Are you all right?"

McCloud looked at him as if he were crazy until she noticed the object of his gaze. Her entire arm was red with blood. She glanced at the man on the floor, her head cocked in question. Rose simply nodded.

With stunning speed, McCloud kicked the man squarely in the stomach. The man groaned and heaved his mostly liquid dinner onto the bar's floor. McCloud was ready to kick him again as Rose placed a restraining hand on her shoulder.

"We'd best be going," he said. McCloud looked up at him in amazement. "Come on, Rachel."