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"Hang up."

With that delivered as a demand, rather than a suggestion, Fenrir would glare over the rim of his face plate at the Cainite behind the desk as he holstered his left revolver.

"This is our business, for now."

Fenrir would then with his free hand pull the hood of his jacket back and ignore the offers made to him of whiskey, cigars, and a seat, opting instead to stand right there, eyes still gradually growing more pale, though the rate had slowed by some.

"I have, something to offer. An offer you can't refuse."

"Your death?.."

Fenrir would holster the right revolver, the hand however remaining over the weapon, fingers idly tapping in succession of eachother over the handle, as as with the left, as he would narrow his eyes at the mention of Ragnarok. He however, didn't make any mention of it. Raoul wanted to hear his piece. Fine, that took priority.

"There is a cainite I want. Make no mistake, I DO intend to kill him, so be aware of this in your deliberations...."

Fenrir would pull his right hand up to tear the bloodied bandage from his left jacket sleeve, holding it up briefly before walking forward, and setting it down on the table before Raoul.

"Him. Thats all. Bring him to me, call him here now, tell me where he is... As for the young lady DeSeer, I dont scheme with her. I dont plan with her. There is nothing there. She however, knew rather intimately a nephew of mine. Corbin."

Fenrir's left palm met with the table top again as he leaned in, eyes dangerously close to such a transparent saphire glaring at the Cainite, as that ominous cardinal red tail flicked behind him in an irrate manner.

"That blood, came from the monster that in the irish war of Independance, stalked me, set a trap for me, tortured, then murdered my wife and children."

Being of sound mind, when it came to a variety of Cainite sorts, Fenrir would narrow his eyes, and continue on to state.

"It tried to sire, my wife. Make you a better offer?... You know my Nephew, and atleast some of my brother... What can I offer you isn't the question, sir. What lengths will I go to...."

Fenrir would watch Raoul as he moved, hand sliding from the desk, nails scraping however, and perched once more over the holstered firearm. As he mentioned the collateral however, the Gael's eye twitched, the corner of his lips curling faintly at the thought of what he had done. This was not going well. Raoul wasn't some peon to be threatened, he had age enough to merit that.

"I AM sorry humans were harmed. That wasn't meant to happen. But this is a two way street Cainite. You have something I want, and you have something you want. Enlighten me. If you're waiting for me to offer to turn on Roan though, that wont happen."

Fenrir watched as Raoul returned to his desk, this entire meeting starting to severly whip at his back, forcing him to struggle in the effort to hold back the Berserkergang.

"I'm afraid you've misinterpreted me. Roan took in my Nephew. Cared for him. Loved him. MISSES him to this day after the war with the Abominations. He sacrificed himself, destroyed himself and that Abaddon character, after I couldn't beat him. I'm sympathetic to Roan. That, and the complicated history between her and my brother, is all we share. My brother asked me to lend the lass a hand when needed, but you think she accepted my offers?"

Finally, Fenrir would allow his hands to leave his revolvers, and he took a seat. Every effort to try and relax even the slightest, though he would not touch the scotch.

"I hunt your kind, Raoul... Perhaps thats why she wont trust me with knowing the workings of what ever you suspect her to be doing."

"Hey, where you think you're going! God damn it."

Fenrir would sit for a few seconds, then stand and place his hands on his hips with an irrate groan, before marching around the desk and heading for the door. As he reached for the door Raoul had used though, the defense system activated.

Jumping back to knock the desk with his a**, hands falling onto the table top behind him at either side of his body as the sound of gas caught his ears, Fenrir would curse in Gaelic, before breaking back into english.

"Dirty fu cking Cainites. Not a ONE of them!"

Taking a breath, Fenrir would draw his right katana, releasing the GunBlade form before taking a left foot forward, baseball-esque stance, saphire light rapidly gathering around the blade, before he rushed the steel, striking with the Magnum break technique. A dent. Conciderable in size and depth, though still not an exit.

Groaning, Fenrir would repeat, then again. Finally, the Berserkeragang kicked in, and as cerulean energy whipped around him, eyes a flat white he struck again, and again. There WAS progress to be made, but not enough.

The Gael's blood flow was faulting, and he was exherting too much energy to hold his breath, making it worse. Staggering backwards, Fenrir felt the Berserkergang failing as his heartbeat slowed, and before long, his eyes slowly slid shut.

"Not yet... Not like, this..."

He struggled, but in vain. Blackness consumed him.

Before the Blazeheart fell from his feet however, a single heart beat sounded loud, and powerful. That blue aura that faded out, was suddenly kept at bay, a dim flicker.

Seconds later, his right eye opened a sliver, and as his right hand and sword weakly rose up from his side, he barely whispered.

"I'll, endure it..."

Suddenly, that cardinal red tail started to glow, as did his blue tattoos, as new markings started to spread over his body from the tail, glowing a sinful bright scarlet, even his aura errupted with rejuvinated power, as it shifted to a deep indigo.

The Gael's eyes shot wide open, beaming with ivory white energy as a black halo started to materialize over his head, ears growing to points and long red wings sprouting from his temples.

That tag-along in his DNA, was mutating. Duplicating.

Moving forward, Fenrir held the GunBlade out behind him, as it gathered crimson energy, and a blade materialized of the same energy appeared at either side of the real one.

"Trifecta."

Fenrir Then slashed the sword across the steel, and an audible agony in protest the steel would be pulverised, the force behind the slash enough to punch a hole through so Fenrir could easily enough stroll on through.

Exhaling a misty breath, Fenrir would then start a march, following Roaul, roaring in a beasial tone as he went.

"RRRRRRAAAAOOUL!"

The phone rang.

Not Raoul's phone, but Roan's. The number was unlisted and unfamiliar, but it went off just before she had the chance to be drawn into the web of shadows that would be her means of leaving the house. It was a message left for her.

The mutt's being leashed, don't expect a warm welcome. Mobilizing to intercept if upper echelons are called.

Consider yourself warned.



As soon as the message was sent, he discarded the phone. It was a stolen cell to begin with, and meant little to him. He didn't need it for communications with any of his contacts.

Since leaving the mansion, the remnant found his original plan was lacking. He didn't have the raw power to stand against any given Syn in a one on one fight. Loathe as he was to admit it, he found Cerberus' tale as a source of guiding inspiration.

It would be a guerilla war. The first thing he had done was start calling in favors. A company of soldiers still owed their paychecks to him, and they had tech specialists he could rely on. Then there were the civilians that had racked up talents he could call upon in a pinch.

So he had begun to set up his web. Few Syn havens were known to him. He had no way of tracking the targets other than where they made their domain. It made the notion of an up front war laughable. So he would need to tap as many lines of communication and intelligence that he could to try and piece together enough information to work with.

The first choice had, logically, been to arrange for ears on Roan's own phone. Raoul's had been a close second, as Iden had known the Prince worked for Syn almost directly.

It had come as a mild surprise to see the issue was arising so soon. There was too much information to sift through, of course. But the little bits and pieces that came across were always of help. Movements in Australia, in Asia and America. But a conversation had caught the ghost's keen interest. He'd had a man assigned to listen to the home front's lines of communication almost 24/7. He had a heart to protect, whether he would ever admit it or not. When he heard such things were going on...

Well, from the sounds of the situation, things were ripe for an escalation. Raoul didn't have the authority to hold Roan accountable for anything. He knew this. But if it went up the chain of command....

Well, that was why he was arming himself for a rapid deployment. Once again, Cerberus' information was invaluable.

Please, you really are dealing with the wrong clan type for berserker nonsense and games. You just never learnt to use your words carefully, I did.

*The voice came from everywhere and nowhere, as Raoul kept his etheral distance*

A shame you didnt have the good sense to go down quietly so we could resolve this, one assumes you really have turned the Lady traitor. What did you promise her? Her son back? Id ask WHY you're doing it, but alas hunters like you dont NEED a reason, right? Suprisingly clever for a berserker to go to the lengths of using one of our own against us, but she was a GOOD choice. Very powerful... but a bit too trusting.

She is on her way here, Blazeheart, in chains. She's under arrest for defection and blatant breaking of the masquerade, through an ally and proxy. Who knows, prehaps the council will launch a blood hunt on her entire line. You can either sit downand shtu the hell up and give her a chance to dig you BOTH out of this hole, or you can fight and end up jailed also, pending execution. Im not fussed either way, though I did not expect this of Roan. She is my friend.