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"He should have just finished organizing that for you. Head out to the front of the house. I am both hoping you will like what you find... and treat it suitably well."

Standing aside, she moved off towards her own suite, leaving Corbin to head downstairs and out the main doors.

In the driveway, a black and red Honda CBR600RR sat waiting, with Jan holding Corbin's weapons alongside.
The sportsbike wasn't the best of its kind, but it was among the better end, and was probably lethal to most kids Corbins' age, considering it had a top speed in the vicinity of 160 miles per hour.
Most importantly though, the thing handled well, hence why Roan owned it in the first place and had picked this one from her collection to allow the kid to ride.

"Good evening sir. Your kit, and your keys. Please try not to scratch Baby, her Ladyship is quite fond of her."

"I believe, madame, it is a good thing you did not send out the Ducati."

Jan wandered inside after watching Corbin depart with a slow shake of his head, then went up to Roan's rooms to find her. He was not surprised to walk in on his mistress getting dressed, especially not when one noted the clothing being pulled on was red and black in design, with kevlar lining certain parts of it.

Wordlessly, he moved to held Roan snap down the catches at the sides of her top, then passed across her weapons belts as she plaited her hair with nimble fingers.

"One does not leave a £13,000 sports bike in the hands of a child, even one notably more responsible than Corbin. I would never be fool enough to let him have the Ducati. The Honda will either survive, or it will not, just do not let him near my Lotus.

Hand me that pack of C4 off my desk won't you?"
"Explosives, ma'am?"
"Truthfully, its pointless unless I start playing with thermite, but that's a little TOO Nines to even be carrying right now. You will call, yes?"
"If necessary, yes."
"Then I'll see you later."
"Happy hunting, ma'am."

The Lady exited through the window. Geared for war, who knew her exact destination. Woe betide whoever got in the way however.

The letter completely failed to be anything other than exactly what it should have been, though it did contain a second letter, sealed the same, within itself, though that one bore another name.

The script the letters were written in was at once cursive and elegant, and rather reminiscent of olde worlde writing in that S's and f's were occasionally hard to distinguish from each other, save for the context of the word they appeared in. Roan's own handwriting then.

"Fenrir,

I have taken the time to write this in person in the hope it will convey to you some of the deadly earnest in which I am writing it.

The boy is a loose cannon beyond anything else I have ever seen, and a complete train wreck waiting to happen. A train wreck, I might add, heading directly for a nuclear power station on collision course, since I discovered exactly what was in his head, and he is aware of it too.

I will give him credit where it is due, he knows how to push buttons and I lost my temper. My own fault, and I intend to suck up the consequences of that, full force. To that end, I would rather get everything laid on the table NOW and problems dealt with before I'm out on campaign and the whole thing becomes a thorn in my side.

I am quite certain you will have realized already what has happened to the child. Part of me regrets it, but I spent most of this evening before sitting down to write stabbing that part of me in the sensitive bits until it shut up, shrivelled up, and died.

The boy is mine. I suggest you take this opportunity to tell him whatever you wish to in private, before time moves away from us all.
For better or for worse, he is a DeSeer now, and this is your chance to give him some truth and good memory of his heritage before I knock the desire to dwell on it out of him.

Should either yourself, or Lucas, wish to make complaint about the situation, I wholeheartedly welcome you to attend the mansion tomorrow evening, at the address overleaf, and we shall settle the situation then.

I close with two words of advice. Firstly... do not try to abscond with the boy. I think you're smarter than that, but I would like to avoid a confrontation so early on, which leads me into my second point... I think we would both agree he deserves some GOOD memories of the Blazeheart family, does he not?


I intend this to be a last chance, so he can move on and master the force lurking within him without distractions. I assure you he will be cherished and put to use, though my methods will likely not be appreciated, not least of which if your senses tonight are as sharp as I believe them to be.


Good health, Fenrir. Please pass on the same to Lucas.



Lady Roan DeSeer"


The second letter was exactly the same, in that it was an explanation to Lucas that she was claiming his son, and any issues should be taken up with her the following night.

Dropping the bottle of Whiskey, Corbin took three slow steps back, hand reaching for his gunblade, the other raised about half way ready to defend.

"The... ********?!.. Never heard o' you ******** down at the tattoo on Fenrir's chest, that was about all the proof he needed. And instigation. Drawing his Gunblade Corbin took aim though as he fired, Fenrir was again demonstrating that oddly effective mix of dumb luck and precise agility he had when first meeting Roan. More effectively, though.

With a strange, instantly gone glow in his powder blue body art, the ex-IRA member was falling off the left of his stool and kicking it up at the brat.

Corbin was easily capable of cutting the stool aside, though in doing so, lost sight of his target. Till the Gale was somehow holding his arms crossed behind his back. With a subtle kick to the back of Corbin's right knee, he was on a knee.

"BARS CLOSED."

Firing a look of utter 'get the ******** out' at the whole bar, little more than that was needed to indeed, cause a stampede of few.

"What the ******** YOU want with me then. If it isn't my old man, it's you, is it?"

Glaring down at the brat, somehow able to secure both arms with just his right hand now, using the left to remove the cigar from his lips and ash it to the side.

"Like I said. Lucas isn't going to like this one bit... However, there's not much he does approve of these days. My dear brother I fear 'as begun his fall off the deep end. For both our sake, i'll inform him of this when I think he is at least a bit closer to his real frame of mind. I told him... You can't keep something like that inside you all this time, and not suffer any side effects."

Sighing, as he tiredly rubbed his eyes out of frustration over the entire affair, Fenrir pushed Corbin's face to the floor without any follow through, and calmly walked to the center of the room.

"Alright kid. There's something that needs to be done here. I should have done it when I first got here. Guess that's mine and my brother's curse, too much damn patience. In exchange though, i'll keep the old man at bay. Roan wants to be civil, but theres no civility to be had at this rate. You tell her, I accept this for you, and Lucas will also, in time."

"That's it?.."

Rising to his feet, still cautious, Corbin snarled at the ancient, approaching the exit at a wide angle slowly, eager to just get the ******** out.

"What are you on about with my old man, has he finally gone completely insane like I always knew he would?"

"You wanna see? You want to know his constant pain and struggle?.. Then i'll share it with you. Only that you might gain a little more respect for what he's done."

The pair stared down, Corbin not sure what to do, or say while Fenrir simply waited. Finally, Fenrir moved forward, and Corbin lashed out though no matter what he threw at the old man it was blocked, and resulted in the same lock as moments ago, though this time, Fenrir's free RIGHT hand, dropped to press his thumb against Corbin's brow, and all at once, the blue markings on Fenrir, began replicating on Corbin's body, the brat in a state of paralysis.

Caught up in a forced trance, eye rolling back into his head and mouth agape, Corbin was powerless to move or struggle in any way against the force suddenly unleashed over him like a waterfall.

With the full application of the blue markings, they began dimly glowing on both men, and and with a jerk in Corbin's spine, images started to flood his mind. At first, fractured pictures along with distant sounds and voices. Before long though, the visions became clearer, and the audio started to sync up. Finally he was watching what could have been an illusion, complete fiction or might have actually been, the past.

He was watching Fenrir and Narok, both as they lived centuries ago, key points in their lives, though it soon focused on just Narok, and Corbin was shown in detail the events that lead to his mixed blood. What happened to his mother, and what it did to Narok. As well as how Narok came to seal an old incarnation inside himself. HellBane. He saw the story of Narok's struggle against this in every day and how it gradually wore him down.

Finally, he saw Narok as he was now. He couldn't tell where, which was by Fenrir's design. All he could see, was Narok sat in the dark, trembling, covered in sweat, pale and the viral markings writhing against his chest, neck and cheek.

Meanwhile, the imp light appeared. Sion. Hovering as if held forcefully in place above Corbin in front of Fenrir. With glowing eyes the ancient stared with determination and a goal at the apparition.

"Something I should have done, that first day..."

That said, the pixie light dispersed, and the blue markings sank into Corbin's body before vanishing.

Gasping for air, as though he had just barely made it back to the surface from a dive, and as his vision returned to him, found himself suspended by a hand on the back of his collar.

"Can you stand?"

.: I'm managing fine. :.

"Yeah, but what the hell did you just do?"

Dropping Corbin rather carelessly, Fenrir went back to his place at the counter, and finished his drink.

"What's quickly becoming my allotment in this world, apparently. I sealed your Celestian nature, the same way I did mine, and the way I'm trying to with your father. He's a different kettle of fish though. This way, you shouldn't be such a basket case for Roan to handle. You'll be less fractured, though that big ugly in your head, will still cause some trouble. This is the best I can do for you now though. The rest, well, quicker and easier than trying to make you sit the ******** down and tell you. Lucas aint perfect, in fact he's a idiot, but he tries."

Dusting himself off, Corbin groaned as he sought a smoke. Still unsure if what he'd been shown was true or not.

"Well, i've come, we talked. My job is done here..."

Walking for the door, he stopped just before leaving, paused for a few moments. Though then left without saying anything more. On the bike, and out.

Fenrir in the meantime, simply sighed, shook his head and looked for a new drink.

"Kids..."

"And what did your trip reveal to you, childe?"

The first clue something was up was the fact the mansion was dark. Very dark. Jan did not appear to claim the keys to the bike, or the bike itself.
No one moved within that could be discerned as yet.
The darkness in places seemed to resist the Kindred ability to see in the dark.
The voice was Roan's, but had no obvious source, no sign of the woman anywhere in the darkened hall.

Out of the murky darkness, a route seemed to show itself, being the only route that was directly open to seeing in the dark. It led away to the right, towards a pair of doors marked with Roan's personal seal. These doors were normally shut, though now, they lay silently, and somewhat ominously, open.