Third Energy Chronicles

by largefish8

Anthors note: Now rated M due to mature scene in later chapter. As usual, the summary is sitting on chapter one for your viewing pleasure. Please leave a review after reading and enjoy. Rated T for gore. Note: Image property of Andrée Wallin and is used with his permission.

12. Chapter 11

The weapons in this were taken or were based off units from the game, Tom Clancy's Endwar and as such belongs to Ubisoft.

The individual chars however are property of me and Cydra.

Collins was originally the property of KnightCommander who helped me testrun this story when it was being test posted on a forum and is used with his permission

Third energy chronicles

Chapter 11

"...And repeating our top story. Vulture Brigade Command was forced to mobilize 3 infantry squads to disperse a mob outside Refugee compound 4. Since Malefor's Enclave forced exile, many people have questioned the logic of letting ascended live in our territory.

"Viewers may recall similar incidents during the Black Months. During this time, religious fanatics believed that the rift storms were the work of 'dark magic' and that the dinosaurs that appeared later were 'demons from hell'. Authorities, at the time and still now, regard these sentiments as 'utter rubbish'.

"Commander Lynch held a conference saying that any more attempts at 'mob justice' will be treated as hostile action, reminding that the refugee camps were on military property."

"However, since dragons were shown to actually exist, superstition and paranoia are still high among civilians. Rumors have spread of groups forming to 'deal with the unholy problems'. But so far, no founded evidence has been revealed regarding this."

Extract from CCN archives

...

Matt looked at the latest file, regarding more missing person cases. "This is getting ridiculous. The public's already on edge. The last thing we need are kidnappers too," he said.

"As if we weren't having enough trouble with the winged reptiles," said one of Matt's officers.

"Have the pterodactyls been annoying people again?" asked Matt.

"You know exactly what I mean, sir," said the officer, continuing as Matt glared, "Those 'ascended' threw their lot in with that Malefor guy. We should toss em out on their scaly asses."

"Not everyone was ascended on their own free will," said Matt, "And anyone who retains that free will is allowed to stay here."

"Huh...we can't spare the men to keep em under guard and if you ask me. They're perfectly capable of defending themselves," said the officer.

"Maybe so, but these mobs are doing a lot more harm than good, if any good at all," said Matt, "I won't tolerate any lynches here." He paused and said, "Uh, well, except for myself. I mean, well, oh, you know what I meant."

"Fine...Sir," said the officer, before leaving.

Matt sighed before closing down his computer. A knock got his attention. "Yeah?" he said, only to get the knock again. "Come in?" he said suspiciously, before, when the knock came again, opening a hidden panel and pulling a glock pistol out.

The door opened and a man wearing something that looked like a monk's robe was standing there. "Sinner," he called, "Thou hast tainted thy soul for showing mercy upon the corrupted ones. Thou shall pay for thy betrayal." The man pulled out a knife and charged at Matt.

Matt was so shocked by the outburst that the man managed to push him against the desk, knocking Matts gun out his hand before Matt just managed to hold the knife away. "What the hell's your problem?" Matt said, trying to reach for his fallen gun properly before kicking the man back.

"Thou hast let demonspawn and those corrupted by them into thy land," said the man, "Thy sin is betrayal to humanity."

The man immediately lunged again, only to meet Matt's fist coming the other way, the knife sent flying. "Look, man. Dunno how you got in here, but if you do this, you won't get out in one piece," he said.

"Thy sins are-" started the man.

"Ok, I got you the first time," said Matt, "But what do you think you're going to accomplish by knifing me?"

"There are others here more committed to the path. They allowed me entry to cleanse your soul," said the Man.

Matt just rolled his eyes before both of their gazes looked down at where the pistol was before both jumping for it. "Since when does stabbing someone counts as cleansing their soul?" said Matt as he tried to grab the pistol.

"I do not question the word of the prophet, Hawthorn," said the man.

Matt seeing a manic look in his eyes before he pushed the man back, finally holding the pistol. "Ok...you stay there," he said, aiming before with a free hand, turning on the intercom. "Security...got a nutter here...tried to stab me," he said

"What, like that guy that went after Spyro?" asked the security officer on the other end.

"Worse, I want a search on a 'Hawthorn' as well," said Matt.

"Hawthorn like the tree?" asked the security officer.

"Hawthorn as in a person. I'm sure my visitor will fill you in," said Matt.

"Repent, ignorant fool and you may a chance of redemp-" started the man before Matt kicked the side of his head.

"That is, once he wakes up," added Matt.

…

Hawthorn sighed, turning off the TV which reported of a failed assassination attempt. One of his aides said, "Why did we attack him at his office, prophet?"

"To show that transgressors against The Lord are not safe anywhere, whoever they may be," said Hawthorn, "Of course, I may have overestimated the skill of our agent."

"I remember this 'Lynch' from the black months. He inspires support. He also has a vengeful streak. He'll be looking for you, sir...especially if that idiot agent mentions you by name," said one of the aides.

"Then perhaps my presence shall put the fear of God into him," said Hawthorn, "There is much evil that much be purged in that town. It is our duty to slay those abominations."

...

Matt wasn't quite the patient type. He didn't want to sit in his office until he got a call regarding the information on Hawthorn. He decided to head over to the information center to see the data himself. Besides, he'd rather not chance another assassin trying to do him in.

The information center in Moscow was right up against the security wall that had been built by VB. It was also, for ease, near one of the gates. As such, Matt was well positioned when the alarm went off. He ran out to see a good dozen vehicles approaching, mostly trucks. The main feature was the impromptu armor and the mounted guns. Matt sighed and said, "I swear, if it's another gang of motorcycle marauders..."

The trucks came to a halt, in a surprising show of either bravery or stupidity, in range of the two T-100 tanks on duty and a figure got out, flanked by two people wearing robes and holding Remington 870 shotguns. The figure in the middle was a tall man, dressed in a black duster with a matching wide-brimmed hat. Underneath it, he seemed to be wearing priest's outfit with some army fatigues. But was really intriguing was that although his face and body didn't look a year over 35, his hair was pale grey.

Matt walked forward as well, nodding to the snipers over the gate. If this guy's mates tried anything, they'd get a .308 cal round between the eyes. "Can I help you...?" said Matt, leaving the question hanging in the classing 'and your name is' fashion.

"Matthew Lynch, my followers and I are on an important crusade," said the man with the grey hair, "We must enter this city."

"You don't demand anything of MY city. If you know my name, you know my rank. It's COMMANDER Lynch. What is your name, sir?" said Matt, immediately disliking this man as soon as he had tried to bark orders.

"Pardon me, I assumed my reputation was as far-ranged as yours," said the man, "I am Jacob Hawthorn."

Matt's eyes narrowed. "Ah yes...I had a visit from one of your associates...he tried to fillet me," he said, his tone practically sub-zero by now.

"Oh, so that's where he went," said Hawthorn, "I'm afraid he took a few things I've said too literally."

"He's currently a guest of my Internal Security. May I ask your business?" said Matt, the same formal, icy tone remaining.

"It is my belief that a plague is spreading into your city," said Hawthorn, "One that needs to be dealt with immediately."

"We have access to some pretty good medical gear thanks to the coalition refugees here. I would have heard about a health risk to the city," said Matt. He knew that wasn't what Hawthorn meant but he wanted to hear it from the guy's mouth.

"I'm afraid this plague is not one of the body, but one of the soul," said Hawthorn.

"The rift storms all ended when Malefor finished whatever it was he did. I ask again...and say it straight or I won't let you enter: Why. Are. You. Here?" said Matt, his temper starting to flare.

Hawthorn sighed and said, "Very well, Commander. The forces of Evil are extending their grip into the mortal realm, corrupting the souls of innocents with their agents. And I fear that such a large population as this is a big target for them. So I and my followers have come to help direct your citizens back to the light."

"If that includes attacking people then you can turn around and leave..." began Matt before taking a deep breath. For all he knew this guy was speaking the truth about the attack last night. "Fine...ground rules. No weapons until you get a permit. Two: I won't let homemade APC's into my city. They stay outside. Three: You try to and entice a riot, I'll have you shot. Are you clear?" he said.

"Commander, I am a messenger of peace, not war," said Hawthorn, "Our weapons are for those agents of darkness that are more...difficult to deal with."

"I don't care. My men are more than equipped to deal with anything. You hand in your weapons or you stay outside," said Matt, threateningly.

"Very well," said Hawthorn, before gesturing behind him, "We were prepared to operate under civilian conditions." The trailers the trucks were hauling opened up and more normal cars were driven out of them.

"The weapons?" said Matt, icily, before Hawthorn nodded slightly to his guards who handed their weapons over to the guards on the gate. Matt said coldly, "Welcome to New Moscow...enjoy your stay."

"We shall all prosper from this," said Hawthorn, stepping around Matt.

"Keep thinking that." said Matt, turning to the captain on guard. "Double patrols around the refugee compounds," he muttered.

...

Back at HQ, Matt looked at the file he'd found on Hawthorn. The person had apparently been part of a God-fearing family that had been convinced that the saurians had been demons sent from Hell. They had apparently made a movement for the government to exterminate them all, but the government had politely, too politely in Matt's opinion, declined and told them not to worry about the saurians.

Apparently the family's homestead had been ground zero for a class 12 third energy storm. Everyone had assumed nobody had survived...apparently one had.

Matt was about to carry on reading when his comm rang. "Sir...we got trouble at the Fairgreen compound." said an American voice, Matt having put some of Chris's men in charge of security there.

Matt responded, "It wouldn't happen to be a group of religious nuts, would it?"

"Good guess. Some crackpot called Hawthorn's doing a little soapbox speech outside. Want us to break it up?" said the trooper on the other end.

Matt sighed and said, "No...I'm coming down."

...

Matt pulled up his jeep to see a crowd outside the compound he had assigned to the Fairgreen clan. The Fairgreen clan took a bit of adjusting from moving from Seattle. But once they didn't need to rely on scavenging, it had prospered quite a bit, providing a fair portion of the internal crops and contributing to the medical centers.

Hawthorn had set up on a small crate just outside the gate and whatever he was yelling had attracted a fair number of people. Matt pushed his way forward in time to hear some of it.

"Citizens of New Moscow, you must take heed of the evil that is lurking around you. The forces of Hell are making their moves to claim every soul in this city. Their minions are hiding among you, tempting you into darkness. But all is not lost. Repent and spurn the evil, and you shall be saved!"

Matt glared as Hawthorn carried on, noticing with concealed alarm that some people looked like they were taking what Hawthorn was saying aboard.

"Beware their agents!" called Hawthorn, "You shall recognize them by their scales, their deadly claws and fangs, and their putrid breath. But the worse are the ones who have allied with the forces of darkness, ones who have sold their souls for dark powers: witches!"

Matt glared as Hawthorn pointed to the compound. "Such monsters lay beyond this fence, waiting for their chance," the man called out, waving a hand at the Fairgreen compound, "Do not let their seeming kindness fool you. The most dastardly face that evil can wear is the mask of goodness."

Hawthorn held up an unlit torch. "This is your chance to do what your leaders..." he began before Matt drew his pistol and shot the torch out of his grip.

"What the hell are you doing?" Matt yelled angrily, pushing his way forward

"I am merely spreading the good word," said Hawthorn.

"You're enticing a bloody riot is what you're doing," said Matt, grabbing Hawthorn by his collar. "You tell these people to disperse or I will make good on my threat at the gate," said Matt, darkly.

"A riot? I'm just telling them the truth that you have been denying," said Hawthorn. But Matt's expression did not change and Hawthorn said, "Very well." He turned to the crowd and said, "Return to your homes, make sure you guard your loved ones from the threats of corruption."

Matt continued to glare. "I want you out of here first light or my men will THROW you out. Are we clear?" he said without any attempt to conceal his contempt

"Commander, I do not see what the problem is. Don't tell me you're oppressing free speech," said Hawthorn.

"No. I'm opposing vigilante justice," said Matt.

"Is it wrong for people to protect themselves against threats?" asked Hawthorn.

"No...but my men are here to do that. I will not tolerate lynch mobs," said Matt, angrily

"How ironic," said Hawthorn.

"What's so ironic about- Oh, right, my surname," said Matt, anger briefly converting to annoyance. Matt pushed Hawthorn back at that. "Those people there are about as witch like as I am. You start trouble again and you won't leave town upright, are we clear?" he said threateningly.

Hawthorn looked at Matt for a few seconds before saying, "I believe we are."

"Good, if I even hear a rumor that you pulled a stunt like this, I'll shoot you myself," said Matt coldly

"Very well then," said Hawthorn before motioning to his men and walking away.

Matt glared before saying to the lead guard, "If they come back, arrest them," before walking into the compound.

…

He headed towards one treatment center, particularly for burns. Matt walked in and looked around. There was only one person being treated today and he was being treated by a certain red-haired woman in informal hospital scrubs.

"Kala...everything alright? That group outside looked nasty," he said.

"I heard something was going on, but I didn't quite here all of it," said Kala as she rubbing salve onto the patient's back, "Something about darkness?"

"Some whackjob claiming you're witches, the usual crap," said Matt.

Kala sighed and said, "People do tend to fear what they can't understand."

"Chris's men are on permanent guard and 2nd armor division's based a block away. Nobody will get in," said Matt, seriously.

"Matt, we've been able to deal with the Gun Runners, I think we can handle these witch hunters," said Kala.

"This is different. I can't just order my men to fire on a crowd...and if Hawthorn keeps riling them up, a mob will turn up," said Matt, serious, adding, "We can easily move you and your clan to Fort Stavin. It's 5 miles outside the city and alot safer."

"I'm needed here," said Kala, "This community needs as many healers as it can get. We won't just up and move just because someone's pushing us." She wiped off her hands and said to her patient, "Ok, don't lie on your back for a few days and try to avoid any heavy lifting."

Matt watched as the patient thanked Kala and left before saying, "Are you nuts? I've read Hawthorn's file, one of his followers tried to stab me in my office."

"We're not simple country people," said Kala, "We've survived in the ruined streets of Seattle with both the mutants and the Gun Runners. Besides...someone has to make you sure you don't go too far."

"Me? Too far?" said Matt, with a smirk.

"Matt, I can see what this war is doing to you," said Kala, "You're becoming too hardened, colder. I mean with Spyro..."

"That little pain in the ass? He wanted to help, so I sent him to help down south," said Matt, harshly

"You've heard the reports of what goes down there. That's no place to send a teenager," said Kala.

"He's just a..." began Matt only for Kala to finish bitterly "A dragon?"

"Kala, you haven't seen what those creatures have done," said Matt.

"Didn't you used to have the same opinion about the dinosaurs?" questioned Kala.

Matt glared and said, "That's completely different."

"Maybe now it is," said Kala, "But you're letting your anger cloud your judgment. You need to let go of this hatred before you do something you regret."

"Huh...I'm perfectly fine," said Matt, before saying, "Fine, if you stay here, keep a radio close by...and a few lookouts..."

"We know how to keep an eye out for trouble," said Kala.

"Ok...if you're not willing to move, they need staff at the main hospital closer to command. At least go there...it's alot safer," said Matt.

"They need people here too," said Kala, "Some people can't make it to the main hospital."

"They have to try. My men can't protect you this far away and that asshole knows it," said Matt, angrily.

"He might be an asshole, but even he has limits," said Kala, "He needs actual evidence that we've been doing 'witchcraft', and word of mouth doesn't count."

"People like him are able to make 'word of mouth' look like photographic evidence," said Matt darkly.

"I'd like to see him try," said Kala, "Tell you what; we'll keep inside the compound. We'll just stay indoors and keep to ourselves. He won't be able to blame us for anything."

"I hope that's enough, because my men are outnumbered 2 to 1 now the Coalition are here too," said Matt

"You can trust me on this," said Kala.

Matt hesitated before saying, "Fine, but don't take chances." He headed towards the door and said, "Just to be on the safe side, don't do any hocus pocus until that creep leaves town. And if anyone asks, you don't know the Fairgreen at all, you just work here."

Kala stared at that comment as Matt left. She couldn't believe that Matt had said that. Was he ashamed or something? Eventually, she turned back to sorting her medical supplies. "Fine, no magic, but don't expect any social calls," she muttered.

...

With Kala, and by extension the rest of Fairgreen Clan, taken care of, Matt decided to check on the other person who'd most be suspected of 'witchcraft'. The old base handed over to Chris's men was located at an old industrial complex, close to one of Vulture Brigade's makeshift airpads. It was also the current home of Megan.

Matt knocked on the door and waited. Megan wasn't the kind that you should just walk in on. After a bit, he heard her say, "Who is it?"

"It's Lynch," Matt called through the door before adding, "You...decent?" just stopping himself from saying 'Are you human?'

"Just a minute," said Megan's voice. After a little bit, he heard locks clicking and chains rattling. Then the door opened. "Come in," she said, "I'd keep the place in better shape, but I don't expect much company."

Matt walked into the room and looked around, reminded of how his room had looked at Megan's age, i.e. a bombsite. Of course there were some differences. Mainly the dust that thickly coated the areas that Megan didn't use, the cobwebs stretching between almost any two ledges that weren't frequently walked through. Not to mention it was a little dark for his tastes.

Matt looked at all the candles, many recently used. "Hey...the local grid's working. Why not use a normal light?" he said curiously.

Megan was busy locking the door back up. "Too much light would draw attention," she said, "After all, no one's supposed to be living here, remember?"

"So? This place is VB property. There are 5 troopers here at all times. Nobody will come nosing around," said Matt

Megan walked over to a chair and sat down. "I can't take any chances," said Megan, "Especially since that Hawthorn guy's in town."

"I've already given him the riot act. He trespasses, he leaves in a coffin," said Matt.

"He could still do a lot of damage before you get to him," said Megan, "And I know he'd love to get his hands on someone like me."

While Megan was very eager, and still is, to be returned to a fully human form, the existence of Malefor's brainwashing spells and her mutant form's immunity to them made it a necessity for her to postpone her treatment. Along with her self-induced seclusion, Megan had taken to wearing a heavy overcoat with a large hood to cover herself. By withdrawing her back spikes and keeping her tail wrapped around her waist, she could be mistaken for a normal young woman from a distance.

"He won't get close. Look...at least go see Chris. It'll do you good," said Matt.

"He's probably too busy with all the security that's being increased," said Megan.

"That's why I want you to go see him. If he winds up any tighter, he'll snap," said Matt.

Megan gave Matt an amused look, "Look who's calling the kettle black."

"I have Striker to amuse me," said Matt, thinking to that morning...spending an hour waiting for laxatives to take effect after Striker had swallowed the jeep keys.

Megan smirked and said, "The only thing that changes about him is his size."

Matt shared the grin, "I know...made worse that he's worked out his claws are excellent lock picks. Now he keeps breaking into the larder every night."

Megan laughed and said, "You should bring him here more often."

Matt said, "How about you visit us? Shutting yourself away is bad for you...at least I get out every so often."

"I can't just walk around in broad daylight like you," said Megan, "Especially with Hawthorn here. He'll have me burned at the stake as soon as look at me."

"So wear that then," said Matt, pointing to the coat.

"Overcoats aren't exactly the popular fashion right now," said Megan, "A guy like Hawthorn will be looking for any kind of difference to brand."

"There's a storm coming in, it'll be chucking it down tomorrow. Everyone will be in raincoats," said Matt.

"Well, I suppose I could get out then," said Megan, "I'll try to make it over around noon, but I've got some sewing to do."

Mat raised an eyebrow, "You sew?"

"Custom designs don't normally cover multiple limbs," said Megan.

Matt conceded this point. "Just tell the corporal when you leave," he said.

"Just make sure that Striker left something decent for lunch untouched," said Megan.

Matt rolled his eyes at that. "If we're lucky," he muttered.

…

A dark forest of black pine was rushing past on either side. The red eyes of beasts glared from between the trees. The black pines eventually gave way to dead trees, with skeletons hanging from the branches. Some of the skeletons glared and made swipes. Then the ruins of a great castle loomed up, half-looking like a mausoleum.

The drawbridge opened on its own, allowing entrance into a near-labyrinth of dark stone corridors. The stench of rotting meat and the cries of tortured victims lingered through the halls, dark weapons hung upon the wall. Suddenly, it stopped at one room that seemed empty. But there was something in there, too solid to be smoke, too round to be a shadow.

It seemed to have the head and neck of a snake and the wings of a bat. The shade seemed to be questing around the room, looking in the corners and cracks. Suddenly, it turned around and its purple eyes came into view.

...

Megan woke up in her chair with a yelp, before looking around. "Oh...that dream again," she said to herself, taking deep breathes to calm herself down. Megan had been having those nightmares for the last few nights now. But the shade was a new thing. "Why am I having these nightmares?" she asked herself. Megan sighed and said, "Ok, no more sleep tonight. I'm gonna take a shower, long and cold."

…

Meanwhile, in the Romanian quarantine zone, in a castle overlooking a small town, two small demon imps winced as they heard snarls of rage from their master's chambers. "He musta failed to find this new Roph again," said the first imp.

"Doesn't he ever take a night off?" asked the other.

"He's nocturnal, what do you think?" said the first imp sarcastically.

"Too bad we're not," said the second imp, "I'm barely getting any sleep with all that roaring and yelling."

"GET IN HERE, YOU DEMONIC PIPSQUEAKS!" roared their master.

"Yeah...he's upset," winced the first imp.

The two imps hesitatingly walked into the room. "You summoned us, your most terrifyingness?" asked one imp.

The shade glared at them and said, "I was this close to finding the Roph descendent. This close! But then they had to wake up at the last second!"

One of the imps said cautiously, "Maybe you'll get lucky tomorrow night?"

"Fool! The moon will be out of position," snarled the shade, "I'll have to wait a whole week before I can search through the dream plane again."

The other imp said, "It's gotta suck to not just have an agent there," before the other kicked him

The shade seemed to smile, or the closest thing to it. "Yes, an agent. I've been searching these backwater villages for too long. I need to expand my search."

"But, we haven't been to Russia for centuries. We won't know where to start...and it's cold," said one of the imps.

The shade snarled and said, "The Roph descendent may have woken up too soon, but not soon enough. I don't who it is, but I know they are in New Moscow."

"The place where everyone owns a firearm?" said the other imp nervously

The shade gave them disapproving looks. "You don't think I'd be foolish enough to send you two weaklings, do you?"

The imps breathed some smoke out in relief before the shade said, "I'll send all of you...tear that city apart."

The werewolf general had been standing by as his master ranted, but he felt he needed to step in. "Master, I must advise against this," said the werewolf, "The humans will not take an invasion lightly. They could send a whole army here in retaliation. I would recommend a scouting force."

"They cannot destroy me," snorted the shade until his general said, "But they can destroy all that you are using to reconstruct yourself."

The shade paused at that and said, "Yes, I would rather not have to wait another 500 years to have a body again. Very well, we shall send in some spies. But they'll have to be inconspicuous, sly, and adept at hiding."

The imps at that were slipping away pretty well. Unfortunately the creaked as they opened it, causing the shade to go, "YOU...You'll go."

The imps gulped and said, "Yes, master."

…

New Moscow Pest control wasn't easy to take care of 24/7 in a big city, particularly during a war. So no one would have noticed another pair of rats, if one wasn't complaining.

"I can't believe these guises. This is demeaning for imps of our skill," said one of the rats bitterly, causing a watching drunk to stare at his bottle before tossing it away

"Will you keep it down?" hissed the other rat, "Rats aren't supposed to talk, remember?"

"Oh, please, these humans will probably think they're just hearing things," said the first rat.

"We're not here to chitchat anyways," said the other rat, "We need to find that Roph."

"How will we know them when we see them?" asked the first rat.

The second rat said, "Well...I..." at a loss to say anything before a human, walking by, accidentally trod on him, looking around confused for a second at the squeaky toy-like noise and the 'ack' before shrugging and walking off. Fortunately, the two imps were immortal, even in rat form. But no one said immortality was painless. "I...hate...humans," said the flattened rat/imp in a weak voice

"Ok, may I suggest disguises with wings now?" said the other imp.

"And be used for TARGET PRACTISE?" said the first imp, snapping a bit

"Oh, who'd waste ammo on a silly little pigeon?" said the second imp.

The first imp pointed his snout as four men in hunting gear went by, holding enough ammo to put Rambo to shame.

"Uh, maybe something tinier," said the second imp. A roach scuttled by, giving the two rats an evil eye before scuttling into a hole in the wall.

"Do we know that guy?" asked one imp.

"Maybe we owe him money," said the other.

"C'mon. Let's face it. We don't even wanna be here. So let's search somewhere deserted and say we couldn't find this human, then the boss'll send someone else to get stepped on," said the first imp, conspiratorially, adding, "Like that warehouse near the perimeter wall.

"I don't know. Remember the last time we tried to cut corners?" asked the other imp, "I still think my tail didn't heal fully from that."

"Ok...why not try that fenced-off area? It practically reeks of magic," said the first imp, sounding disappointed.

"That'd be a good start," said the other.

"Fine, it's not like it'll be full of magic users," said the first imp.

They didn't notice the man pause at that, looking back at the direction the two had gone, as if he was a dog smelling a scent. "I...sense something," muttered Hawthorn, "The tinge of black magic, yes, definitely evil. Somewhere very close."

Hawthorn's gaze followed the trail all the way up the street to the guarded gate of the Fairgreen compound and his eyes narrowed in anger. "So, Lynch has been harbouring the accursed," he muttered, "Well, divine retribution is soon on its way."

...

Back at the deserted hotel his group had commandeered, Hawthorn was quick to organize a rally. He had heard enough to know that almost all of Matt's troops were stationed to the west and south, guarding the border.

"Lynch is even further down the path of corruption than I thought," said Hawthorn, "Harbouring transgressors against the laws of nature, whose very existence is a mockery against God."

"The people here will not be easily convinced. He and his men made this city safe again and continue to do so," said one of the others thoughtfully.

"Oh, but they are still suspicious of the dragons," said Hawthorn, "He may be willing to protect those who are or were human, but I can tell he distrusts those beasts."

"Many of the dragons there were humans, but I have heard his policy of allowing them to stay has not been popular," said another, smiling coldly.

"A waste of resources and effort," said Hawthorn, "Those poor fools are lost to God. The only sense would be to prevent them from corrupting others."

"The populace obviously agree. I heard comment of how a riot was ended peacefully hardly a few hours before our agent failed," said the one who had mentioned the dragons.

"He may not be friendly with dragons, but I doubt he'll allow us to exterminate them," said a more doubtful follower, "You heard what he said about vigilantes."

"Vigilantes? We are not mere vigilantes," said Hawthorn, "We are missionaries, crusaders doing God's work. Satan's forces may be willing to trespass into the mortal realm, but we shall show them we cannot be overcome so easily."

The doubtful follower proved he also had common sense by saying, "He also has tanks and helicopter gunships...and fighter jets barely 5 minutes away."

The government would not permit the usage of military vehicles in civilian territory unless there was an invasion, and I wouldn't call us an invasion," said Hawthorn.

"But the dragon camps and the witches are on military property, you saw the old signs," said another follower.

"Then we shall draw them out," said Hawthorn.

"How?" said another follower, confused

"We shall let the people express their disfavor," said Hawthorn, "They shall tear down the walls."

"It will not be easy. I doubt the heretic will be as lenient the next time you try to enlighten the masses," said a follower, gravely.

"Which is why I will not be going inside the city until its citizens are ready to seek liberation," said Hawthorn.

"What?" said one of the followers, surprised, "How will they know we speak for you?"

"The word does not have to be spoken, merely known," said Hawthorn.

…

Three Days later...

Matt was looking at a few reports from the wall guards, saying that Hawthorn's group had set up shop in an old printing factory. "What are you up to, you little hatemonger?" Matt muttered thoughtfully to himself. He'd had two guards posted outside his office since the attack and so was shocked when the door burst open, the two guards pushing against several people Matt recognized as the civilian council that were the go betweens for the refugee groups.

"Sorry, sir. We couldn't stop them," said one of the guards apologetically.

"A little word ahead of time would have been nice," said Matt.

One of the group, a burly German, stomped past the guards and tossed a leaflet on Matt's desk before saying angrily, "We demand that you remove those things from the safe zone at once."

Matt looked down at the leaflet before up at the man with a subzero glare. There were rumors that some people had vanished after insulting him. While not true, Matt had always encouraged them...if only for fun.

"Those monsters are taking people from the streets," said the man, "Innocent people are disappearing without a trace. We can't live in peace like this."

Matt said in an icy tone of voice, "Anyone you know missing? All of you refugees know each other."

"Yes," said the man, "My neighbor's cousin disappeared one night while going to get some groceries. And we've lost at least three mailmen."

"That'd be Jeremy Harrison..." said Matt, opening a window on his computer screen.

The man said pompously, "That is correct...now..." before Matt said "Arrested 4 days ago for being drunk and disorderly."

"But the mailmen..." started one of the other councilors.

"Have just switched shifts," said Matt, "New Moscow's a big city, takes several mailmen to cover it."

The man seemed about to speak before Matt opened his drawer and pulled out a pistol. The group just stared as Matt began to check it before seeming to notice the group again. "Are you still here?" he said, before picking up the leaflet. "Where did you get this?" he said, tossing it at the man.

"It showed up in my mailbox one day," said the man.

Matt said, "I have a good idea where it came from. Don't believe everything you read. If you bring ACTUAL evidence next time, I might pay attention. Now go away before I finish loading." The refugee leaders left so fast that Matt was sure there was a crack of thunder.

Matt picked up the leaflet and said, "Now, let's see what kind of sludge that nut is spewing." Matt opened the first page...

...

The staff on the bottom floor all stopped as Matt was heard screaming "GET HAWTHORN IN HERE NOW!"

…

Hawthorn was brought in, virtually frog-marched. "There has to have been a more civil way to bring me in here," said Hawthorn.

"Well, I was going to have you dragged here by a cockroach IFV, but they're all needed. Now then, what is this SMEG?" said Matt, cheerfully at first before his gaze darkened until he threw the leaflet at Hawthorn's head, the man just dodging it.

"I see you've received a copy," said Hawthorn.

"No...I got this from one of the community leaders. Turns out they all got one. Strange that...isn't it?" said Matt, mock cheerful again.

"Well, we've been trying to get them as spread-out as we can," said Hawthorn.

"Let's read out some of this," said Matt, smiling without an ounce of mirth before reading out a quote, "Dragons are well known for their ability to enslave minds?"

"You know that's true," said Hawthorn, "How else could Malefor had taken over so quickly?"

"That's crap. We've already confirmed that it's done by subliminal messaging," said Matt, before turning a page, "Dragons feast solely on human flesh? You're getting confused with zombies."

"You know dragons aren't herbivores," said Hawthorn.

"They definitely don't eat humans. The guards would have noticed," said Matt, before looking at the next page, "Dragons have an instinct to burn anything that's green? What, do you ask a magic 8-ball if you should add these so-called facts or something?"

Hawthorn's eyes narrowed at the last comment, especially when the guards behind him chuckled. "You may laugh..." he began before Matt said "Ok...I will," before laughing.

Hawthorn glared and said, "The forces of darkness are nothing to be made light of."

"Yeah...his name's Malefor and he's 1600 miles that way," said Matt, pointing west. "Don't let the door hit your ass on the way out," before he said as Hawthorn turned to leave, "Oh...Hawthorn?"

"Yes?" asked Hawthorn.

"You have 48 hours to get your butt out of VB territory. I had an interesting communice from the Far Eastern Federation...first in years. Their security force wants to discuss some kinda riot charge with you. If you are not out in 2 days, or if I get one more report about you, I'll giftwrap you and post you to Beijing myself," said Matt, smiling evilly and adding, "Have a nice day."

Hawthorn frowned and said, "Your ill-conceived mercy towards those beasts shall be your undoing."

"And your mob baiting will be yours...good day." said Matt, before turning to look at his paperwork before looking back up. "Something you want to add?" he said icily

"You'd be wise to evict those monsters before it's too late," said Hawthorn.

Matt actually looked up at that with a look of mock surprise on his face. "I must have not heard that properly...because that sounded like a threat to me," he said, his voice lowering to as close a snarl as a human could get.

"Not a threat, advice," said Hawthorn, "Those creatures will bring nothing but trouble and misfortune for you."

Matt glared before saying "Someone get this...trash out of my sight. I don't care what you do with him."

As soon as Hawthorn was out, Matt looked at the leaflet and said, "The only thing I'd use this for is to line my birdcage." Then he paused and said, "Wait, I don't have a bird. Maybe I should get one just to put this scrap to use."

Outside, Hawthorn was roughly pushed down the last step by the trooper on duty and into the sight of his fellows. "I sense your talk with the commander did not go well," said one.

"Lynch was too stubborn to listen to my advice," said Hawthorn, "No matter; our cleansing shall go on with or without his approval."

"It will not be easy. Remember, he commands a great amount of loyalty in his men," said a third, adding thoughtfully, "We will need leverage..."

"That may be difficult," said Hawthorn, "Lynch seems to be an individualist. There is not likely anyone that he would be very close to."

"My informants have seen him with what looks like a child," said the same guy who had suggested leverage.

"You mean the one who looks like Kenny from that old show, South Park?" asked one.

The 'leverage' guy nodded. "Yes, the one that's wearing a coat 10 sizes too big. If we take him, the commander will have no choice but to do what we say. Although we will have to make sure he doesn't follow us later," he said.

"Perhaps, but a child should not be exposed to such duplicity," said Hawthorn, "There shall be no treachery involved and it must remain unharmed."

"Of course," said the group in unison before another of their group ran up.

"Hawthorn...something is happening at the witches' camp. I think the guards are changing," he said out of breath.

"Well, you can't expect them to remain at their posts 24 hours a day," said Hawthorn.

"I've watched them before...it will be 15 minutes before the next shift. We can get proof," said the runner.

"Excellent," said Hawthorn, "We must seize this opportunity while we can."

…

Meanwhile, Striker, the raptor Matt had adopted a year ago was getting his checkup. Being cold blooded meant that he was at serious risk from the arctic winters that Russia experienced. It also meant that only one person was qualified to check him and that was Kala.

"Ok, Striker, say 'ah'. And for the last time, don't chomp down this time," said Kala.

Striker opened his mouth, revealing his rows of teeth. Kala slowly put a lolly stick on his tongue to get a good look and jumped as Striker DID chomp down, biting the stick in two and giving what could only be called a snigger.

Kala held up one half of the tongue depressor and said, "I lose more of these things this way." Striker chewed up the remnants then spat out the mush the wood had been reduced to. Kala looked sternly at the raptor before sighing, "Well, you're definitely not ill. Time to wrap up again."

Striker glared. "No like," he said, jumping away when Kala tried to put the faux fur coat on him.

"Do you want to catch hypothermia?" said Kala as she tried to get the coat on Striker.

"No. Brother say I already hyper," said Striker, backing away.

"Well, there's some truth to that," said Kala before trying to tackle Striker.

Striker chirped and easily jumped over Kala's tackle onto the top of a cupboard where he stuck his tongue out smugly. "Striker, get down now," said Kala. Striker shook his head before his year's growth got the better of him and the cupboard overbalanced. Luckily for the young raptor, Kala caught him. "That's why you had to get down," she said with a smirk.

"And while I have you here," said Kala before throwing the coat over Striker. Striker let out a few annoyed snarls but gave up as he realized he wasn't gonna win this one. Kala pulled the hood over Striker's head, completely obscuring his snout and face. "You look adorable," she teased.

Striker growled and said, "Itchy."

Kala grinned and finished zipping the coat up when someone knocked at the room's door. "Just a minute," said Kala before walking over to the door.

Kala reached for the door and was knocked backwards as the door was literally kicked open and two hooded people pushed their way in, holding Remington shotguns. "Nobody moves, no one gets hurt," said one of the hooded men.

Hawthorn walked in behind the two and looked at Kala with barely concealed disgust before he looked at Striker. "You must be the child that Commander Lynch values," he said in a kindly voice before looking confused when the 'kid' hissed at him, crouching down.

"Huh, weird kid," said one of the men.

"He's Lynch's, not really surprising," said the other.

Hawthorn glared at the two and said, "Bound and gag the witch..." before turning to Striker, "Come with me, child, you won't be harmed."

Striker said, "Me not dumb, monkey."

"Could have fooled me," said one of the men.

Kala smirked slightly and said, "Careful, you mess with him and he'll bite off more than he can chew."

Hawthorn sighed and grabbed Striker...or tried too as the raptor in disguise leapt over the fanatic's head. "Get him!" snapped Hawthorn.

The two goons both tried to grab Striker, failing miserably as he easily outmaneuvered them. Hawthorn, however managed to grab him as he leapt for the third time, holding him down. "Stay still you little brat," he said before pulling the hood down. Hawthorn was rather surprised when instead of a child's face, he finds a raptor's. Striker just grinned before spitting in Hawthorn's eye. "Ah! Deadly acid!" cried Hawthorn as he grabbed his face.

Striker tried to take advantage of the distraction to run for it but the goons were ready this time, one grabbing him while the other hit him with his shotgun stock. Hawthorn wiped the spittle off and said frantically, "The commander has gone too far...sheltering a demon as a…" and stopped, apparently unable to finish the sentence.

"Let Striker go," said Kala, "You're asking for a lot of trouble."

"No...this...abomination and you will prove once and for all to the people of this city that their leader must be removed...and will reveal the monsters in their midst," said Hawthorn, a mad fire in his eyes

"I'm giving you to the count of three to let Striker go and get out," said Kala, a different kind of fire in her eyes.

"Gag this thing," said Hawthorn cruelly, one of the goons putting a rag around Kala's mouth. Kala's eyes flashed before a fireball formed in her hand. She threw it behind her and nailed the goon. The second goon didn't waste time, clocking her across the back of the head for an instant knockout. "Bring them..." said Hawthorn.

…

Sometime later, Matt was looking over the 'crime scene' and looking positively livid. In front of him, one of the guys who had come with Hawthorn into the city was being tended too by medics and watched by 4 VB 'wolf' troopers. "His feet won't touch the ground..." Matt said furiously, referring to Hawthorn.

"Sir, I know this has gotten personal, but there's a matter of process by trial," said one of the trooper.

"Screw that! As far as I'm concerned, that little shit just declared open war! I want him shot on sight!" shouted Matt.

"Sir, we can't just lynch him, er, no pun intended," said the trooper.

"I'm not gonna lynch him. I'm gonna shoot him if he's even bruised Kala or Striker," said Matt, calming down a bit

"Are you sure that-" started the trooper.

Matt stopped him with a glare, "He made an unprovoked attack at this facility and kidnapped two individuals who have no criminal records at all. His ass is mine."

Matt pulled out his radio and said, "Anderson, I want some of your Blackfoot gunships in the air. Bring me Hawthorn on a plate or in a body bag."

Just then, the goon ranted, "There is no escape. Hawthorn will bring you to justice for betraying humanity."

"Him and what army?" said Matt.

The goon laughed bitterly and said, "The downtrodden of this city will throw you out themselves once they learn the truth."

"The truth about what?" asked Matt.

"Your alliance with the unholy demons...your sheltering of witches," said the goon, spitting at Matt's feet.

Matt paused and said, "Ok, I'm not even sure if that stupid remark is even worth a rebuttal."

"We saw your little beast," said the goon, cruelly before sneering, "It will be dealt with like the wi..." He didn't finish as Matt clocked him on the jaw.

"They're still clinging to that old dino-demon thing?" asked one trooper, "These guys are even more backwards than I thought."

Matt however said, "Not everyone knows about Striker...as much as I hate to say it, Hawthorn could use this."

"C'mon, like anyone in their right mind would believe Striker's a demon," said the trooper, "A little impish, maybe, but not a demon."

"Hawthorn is a creep, but he knows how to play a crowd. If he throws in Kala's clans little...secret, we'll have a full blown riot," said Matt.

"A preemptive strike then?" asked another trooper.

"No...standard hostage taking. If you're attacked, ice the hostages, all we can do is wait," said Matt, gloomily.

"There has to be something we can do," said the trooper.

"Call in the reserves from Fort Andrea. If this goes bad, we'll need every man we can get." said Matt, before sitting on a chair and saying, "All we can do...is wait."

…

Meanwhile, the shade was listening with some patience as his imps were wrapping up their report.

"We'd need twice as many minions as we have to get into that city...not to mention the other defenses," said one of the imps.

"Will you leave off their defenses and tell me where the descendent is?" snapped the shade. The imps had kept whining about how difficult the job was.

"There's dozens of magic users there. There was a whole camp of them," said the other imp, adding, "No way to tell who was the Heir and who wasn't...white magic...bleh."

The shade looked thoughtful and said, "Well, this camp needs proper investigating. And certainly more muscle than you two have put together."

"As long as we don't have to go back there...number of times we got shot, stepped on and almost eaten..." muttered the first imp.

"But my troops shall need guides," said the shade, "And you know the area the best out of anyone here."

"What? We have to go back there?" whimpered the first imp

"Of course, how else will my minions be able to find the right place to search?" said the shade.

"But...but..." said the imps before sighing and one of them saying gloomily, "Yes, sir."

"Good, now get ready. It'll be dark over there and we mustn't draw too much attention," said the shade.

One of the imps said curiously "Which suck...I mean who are you sending?"

"Oh, I've sent for Zamiel and his hunters," said the shade.

"Those guys? They're about as subtle as that guy from japan...Gojira I think his name was..." said the second imp in shock.

The first imp nodded, "Yeah...the guy who got all those movie deals."

"They happen to be among the best trackers that I can summon," said the shade, "Are you suggesting I'm not capable of acquiring competent minions?"

"No. Those guys are good trackers...but they're crap at stealth..." said the first imp

"Then it's a good thing you two scouts will be there," growled the shade.

The two imps paled and slowly walked backwards out of the room, bowing the whole way before, when they were out of sight, the first imp said, "Zamiel...that guy's a psycho...even by demon standards."

"But at least he'll be on the front lines," said the second demon before it stopped and started gaping.

The first imp didn't pick up on his companion's terrified look, "Yeah...but we might as well hang up a sign pointing to the boss. That Zamiel's a trigger happy moron...what's your problem?"

The second imp nervously pointed over the other's shoulder.

The imp looked confused "What the heavens your problem? You're acting like Zamiel's behind me," he said. The second imp squeaked something, causing the other to turn around.

The two imps looked at a humanoid figure wearing medieval hunter's garbs. However, the skin that could be seen was covered in black fur, the legs were bent backwards like a beast's, a spaded tail flicked behind it, and its head wore a stag's skull over its face. But seeing how close the flesh was grafted, it was hard to tell if it was a mask.

"Oh, erm...Zamiel, baby. You're looking...well," said the first imp, its voice petering out under the demon's glare.

"I have business with the master, so you two get moving," growled Zamiel. The two imps hesitated before red flares appeared in the eye sockets. "NOW!" The two imps screamed, turned into chickens, and ran. Zamiel walked into the shade's room. "You summoned me?" he said in the same growl.

...

Hawthorn however was looking at the prisoners. Striker had been chained to a wall by a collar and was none too happy while Kala was tied up. "Ok, prisoner or not, this is too undignifying," said Kala.

"Silence, witch," spat Hawthorn angrily, before calming down, "Soon you and you...filthy kind will find no shelter here."

"I'm not really a witch," said Kala, "Well, in the classical sense, anyways. I'm closer to a wiccan."

"I don't care. You and you demon familiar will be dealt with...after you help me prove to this city that their leader must be removed," said Hawthorn, with disgust.

"Uh, what demon familiar?" asked Kala.

Hawthorn grabbed her hair and forced her to stare at Striker who was cowering in the corner. "Don't try to trick me. All these demons should have been destroyed the minute they appeared, not worked with like the fools in the Coalition!" he yelled.

Kala yelped as her head was forced around. "Watch the hair," she said before looking at Striker. "Really, you think he's a demon?" she asked, "Are you that superstitious?"

"I saw what they did to humans they met. No mortal creature shows such...brutality," snarled Hawthorn. Kala paled as she saw Hawthorn's eyes...they showed pure, mad hatred.

"Look, I think you need to calm down and carefully think out your actions," said Kala, "You might be jumping to the wrong conclusions."

"I've seen enough. I can sense your...dark energies and I saw you conjure hellfire," spat Hawthorn

"That was regular fire," said Kala.

"SILENCE...tonight, you will be brought on stage during my rally...and then you and the demon will be executed," said Hawthorn, suddenly calm.

"Uh, that wouldn't happen to be the old burn at the stake execution, would it?" asked Kala.

"No...we'll simply let the citizens of this city deal with you," said Hawthorn with dark glee

"Uh, don't we have the right to a trial?" asked Kala, "You know, judge, jury, bailiff?"

"I am the judge," said Hawthorn, "The people shall be the jury. But we won't need a bailiff."

Striker hissed and said nastily, "Brother not need any if he catch you...pack decide fate better."

"When the people see the truth that has been withheld from them, they shall decide his fate better," said Hawthorn.

Striker hissed darkly, "Pack strong...you die."

"But the will of God is stronger," said Hawthorn. Just then, there was a loud thunderclap and a bolt of lightning lit up the sky. "You see? He sends His almighty wrath at the demon infestation," said Hawthorn.

"It's a storm, you idiot," said Kala, scathingly.

"Either way, your time on this plane is quickly drawing to a close," said Hawthorn.

Kala and Striker looked down sadly at that.

...

Little did they know that Hawthorn was partially right. A few minutes earlier, a portal had opened up in a small clearing in the deeper part of the woods. Through it hopped out the two imps. "Man...back in the freezer. Zamiel doesn't need our help. We should go back to Greece. At least we didn't have to put up with this," said the first imp.

"Yeah, we could some nice temperate weather," said the other.

"Get out of the way," hissed a dark voice, "You're holding up the line."

The two imps dodged to the side as some of Zamiel's 'associates' came out of the portal. The two imps looked at each other before muttering, "Amateurs." Suddenly, a small pair of arrows was sent straight at their posteriors.

"What the heaven?" yelped one of the imps, after they'd landed and pulled the arrows out.

"I hate that guy," said the second darkly.

"Keep it moving," said Zamiel, "We don't have all night." The two imps walked on, muttering.

The demon huntsmen filed out of the portal. The 7th one was literally halfway through when suddenly a bolt of lightning flashed and struck the portal. The huntsman looked confused before several metallic somethings grabbed it and pulled it back and a much smaller thing shot out and landed in the snow.

The demons looked at the spot where the portal was in confusion. "What the heaven just happened?" asked one.

"The lightning messed up the portal," said Zamiel, "It closed it up prematurely. Who knows where Ificus ended up?"

"Too bad, he owed me 4 gold pieces," said another demon.

Another, who had seen the things grabbing their comrade, said in a fearful voice "You don't think it was...them...do you?"

"For his sake, I hope not," said another.

Zamiel said, annoyed, "Shut up, the lot of you. The dramin are just legends. Let's just find what we were told to and get out of this frozen hole."

He glared at the imps, one of which said "Oh, that's our job...erm...this way..." adding under his breath "...fatso's."

Zamiel growled and said, "You know, I have a spot on my trophy wall that your heads would fill in quite nicely."

"Look, things have changed since your last job here. Humans have weapons that can hurt us now," said the second imp in as reasonable a voice as he could manage, "Your usual 'kill everyone who sees you' plan won't get you far."

"Then be quick about showing us where we are supposed to hunt," growled Zamiel.

The imps pointed to the perimeter wall of New Moscow. "They're in there somewhere but I'd be..." began the first imp before a huntsdemon ran forward...and vanished in the fireball of an antitank mine.

The demons watched the physical remains of their brethren burn before Zamiel said in a less harsh tone, "Show us the way."

The imps had also not expected the mine and were staring in horror. "Mummy," whimpered the first one. The second one had wandered over to a sign and revealed the sign that said, 'New Moscow...Minefield 3...if you can read this sign, you're either lost or stupid.'

"Perhaps we should keep to the air," suggested one huntsdemon.

Zamiel said, "After you." The demon that had suggested flying spread his wings, took off and was blown apart by one of the NM security walls SAM turrets. The imps backed up from Zamiel's glare "How did you get in?" he growled.

The first imp said, "In disguise..."

"You mean we'll have to take on the appearance of these weak flesh beings?" asked one demon in disgust.

"If you'd rather want to have your physical form destroyed and sent back to the Abyss, then go ahead," said Zamiel.

...

A little later…

The guards on east wall rarely saw activity given that travelers from the Far East Federation were practically non-existent. As a result they watched with interest as the group of travelers walked unsteadily up the road, as if un-used to it.

They heard some odd mutterings from some of them. "How do they deal with all these toes?" "Ugh, I smell ridiculous. What is this secretion from me?" "I think it is referred to as 'sweat'."

The guards looked at each other before waving to the tank crews to get ready. "Hey...hold up there," one of the guards called.

The group paused before one of them in a hunting hat said, "Is there a problem?"

"We need to see your entry visas. Since that wacko Hawthorn showed up, the commander's been in a killing mood," said the guard, conversationally

"He's not the only one," said the guy in the hunting hat.

"Look...just show the damn visas or piss off," said the other guard, obviously in a bad mood.

The strangers seemed to tense, some of them were actually growling. But that stopped when the guards took aim at them. "You can leave peacefully or in bits...your choice," said the first guard, having aimed his assault rifle.

The leader in the hunting hat said, "What? You expect us to give into these...fine..." agreeing reluctantly as one of the middle guys muttered something urgently, pointing at the tank.

The group walked forward, each with official-looking papers in their hands. The guards looked at the gothic handwriting before looking at each other. "This signature looks like it was done in the Middle Ages. How old is this stuff?" one of them said to the two that had handed them out.

"Uh, we got them a few years ago," said one of them, "They haven't expired, have they?"

"A few years ago?" said the other guard in shock before saying, "It seems in order..." before handing a booklet. "These are the laws and regulations in VB territory...and we have to take your weapons."

"Oh, it's nothing to be concerned about," said the guy in the hunting cap, "Just some hunting equipment."

"No weapons, hand em over or visas or not, you're staying out here...with the locals," said the guard, he and his fellow smirking as a noise not associated with any known animal was heard in the snowstorm.

The guy grunted and said, "Fine," before handing over a bow and quiver full of arrows.

The guards watched as what looked like a whole sword shop was handed over. "What the fuck were you lot hunting?" said the first guard in awe.

There was a pause before one of them said, "Wild boar."

"Yeah, right...and I'm Malefor. You get these back when you leave, not before, and security will be watching," said the second guard.

The guy in the hunting cap grinned slightly and said, "Let them watch."

"You start trouble...and if you're lucky, you'll be thrown out with a pulse," said the second guard, before waving for the security gate to open.

One of the hunters snickered and muttered, "Like we have a pulse."

…

Matt, however, was not having a good day. Striker was as close to family as he had left and now some lunatic had him as well as Kala. He looked up at Techo, Wilson, Talia and Chris. "Have you found anything that'll tell you where that idiot is?" he said in a drained voice.

"Not much," said Talia, "As far as we can tell, he's staying outside the city.

"If you see him...kill him. I want him DEAD!" said Matt, shouting the last word and bringing a fist down on the desk.

Just then, the phone started ringing. The group looked at it before Wilson said to Matt, "I think it's for you."

Matt made a 'shh' motion before turning the call onto speaker. "Vulture Brigade Command," he said cautiously.

"Hello, Lynch," said a familiar voice on the other end.

"Hawthorn. I understand you have two friends of mine as guests," said Matt, glaring at the phone.

"Yes, I have your wench and her familiar," said Hawthorn.

"Play nice," said Matt, calmly while motioning for Techo to run a trace, "I presume this isn't a social call."

"Well, we both know it's too late to save your soul," said Hawthorn, "Obviously, this temptress has seduced it out of you."

"She's a US civilian, nothing else," said Matt, his tone darkening.

"Don't try to fool me, I saw her produce hellfire from her hands," said Hawthorn.

Kala's voice in the background was heard shouting, "It was only regular fire!"

"That's regular fire. Seattle was ground zero for a rift storm in the black months. It's just a third energy mutation, you nutcase," said Matt, starting to get annoyed.

"Third energy, another term for black magic," said Hawthorn.

Matt slapped his forehead and said, "For crying out loud, is everything that's unusual unholy to you?"

"And how do you explain the demon?" said Hawthorn, shifting the subject.

It took Matt a minute to realize he meant Striker. "What? I know he steals people lunches but that's hardly demon behavior. Is there a gas leak where you are?" he said rudely.

"Do not be a fool," said Hawthorn, "He is as deadly as great a threat to mankind as those winged beasts."

"Uh-huh, and keep an eye on his tail too, it's been known to sneak off and smack dogs in the middle of the night," said Matt sarcastically.

Hawthorn yelled, "DON'T TAUNT ME!" and Matt almost burst out laughing.

"Ok...did you just call to tell the guy with an army that he's an idiot or to actually say something?" Matt said.

"I might be persuaded be merciful with them, though they do not deserve it. In exchange, you must banish yourself and take your unholy trash with you," said Hawthorn.

"And what would you do afterwards?" said Matt in a taunting voice, looking up at Techo who made a motion to say '30 seconds'.

"Simple, I will teach the people of this city what is good and evil and lead them on a crusade to destroy the minions of darkness," said Hawthorn.

"Hmm...have you SEEN Malefor?" said Matt, "He's bigger than a navy cruiser and twice as nasty. In fact, do go and try to 'vanquish' him. Vanquish? You didn't drop through a rift, did you? This is the 21st century, not the 2nd."

Chris frowned and said, "He wasn't that big."

Matt covered the speaker end of the phone and said, "I know, but I'm trying to make a point."

Hawthorn said scathingly, "You don't fool me. I have the courage you lack."

Matt looked over at where Techo gave a thumbs up. "Hawthorn?" he said.

"Yes?" asked Hawthorn.

"Kiss my ass," said Matt before hanging up, "Chris, you have the privilege of pounding Hawthorn and his cronies into the bedrock. I'm coming too. Nobody threatens Striker except me."

…

The huntsdemons had been searching around the area and where quickly growing frustrated. "I thought you said you knew where the descendent would be," growled Zamiel.

"No, we said we knew where they might be," said one imp.

"Then start being exact," said Zamiel with a snarl that got some stares from people passing

"Well, we did pick up a big spike of possible magic over that way," said the second imp pointing.

"But they could have moved by then," said the next imp.

Zamiel growled and was about to swat the imps across the street when he stopped, sensing a source of white magic. "There is a mage here," he growled, "Underdeveloped, but close."

The imps let out a collective breath of relief. "We told ya," said the first imp.

"Silence," growled Zamiel, "We don't need you two anymore."

"We can go?" said the second imp, hopefully.

Zamiel notched an arrow to his bow and said, "If you aren't gone in three seconds, you won't be able to go anywhere." The imps stared white eyed before running off so fast it seemed like they had teleported away. Zamiel smirked and said, "Much better."

Zamiel and his group walked towards the magic signature and started to see more people walking in the same direction. "I don't like this, Zamiel...too many humans going the same direction to be coincidental," said another demon, the only demon that Zamiel considered close enough to be a 'friend'.

"True, the question is, are they predators on the hunt or scavengers looking to pick from another's kill," said Zamiel.

"No, sense the air, I smell a sensitive," said the demon.

Zamiel sniffed the air and said, "Yes, not a true magic user, but quite skilled in finding magic. And that's not all. I smell...bloodlust."

"Hmm...maybe these humans aren't so backward?" said the first demon with a smirk

"Well, if nothing else, we'll at least have a bit of entertainment," said Zamiel. The demons all smirked before following, starting to hear a voice raised in rant.

"Zamiel, what if we can't pick out the heir amongst the crowd?" asked one demon.

"We'll improvise," said Zamiel, setting an arrow to his bow.

The demon that had first spoken said, "We should be cautious hunters, the world has changed..."

However, the scenario was starting remind Zamiel of a few things from a couple centuries ago. "The more things change, the more they stay the same," he said.

"That does not mean technology has changed. You saw what this...'mone field' did to Arcus," said the first demon

"But it would seem their minds have not developed beyond their ability to suppress irrational fear," said Zamiel.

The demons walked into sight of a stage where a group was watching a human rant something about purity. "Citizens of New Moscow! The time has come for you to take justice into your own hands!" shouted Hawthorn, "Now it is time to punish those that your so-called leaders would overlook because of lack of belief."

The group muttered to themselves as Hawthorn continued, "You leader may have protected you during the black months but now he is falling into corruption. He has let monsters live among you. These abominable reptiles have been allowed to exist for too long. But we shall wipe out this pestilence to our lands once and for all."

"He's got guns, tanks, and helicopter gunships! We've got maybe 30 hunting rifles!" yelled a civilian.

"Quantity can overrun quality," said Hawthorn, "We shall prevail, because we are on the righteous path."

"And those tanks'll crush us. It's all very well wanting a damn riot, but I'd like to see you punch out a T-100!" yelled another civilian.

"The threat of our sanctity far outweighs our personal safety!" shouted Hawthorn, "Would you rather your soul be at risk while your body remains unharmed?"

"I'd prefer not to be full of 30mm gunship rounds!" yelled a third civilian, a general murmuring of agreement, following.

"But do you not realize that your leader has been corrupted by one of the most despicable minions of the dark forces?" asked Hawthorn.

"Pull the other one!" yelled a watcher, getting laughs.

Zamiel's righthand demon turned to Zamiel and said, "They don't do witchhunts like they used to."

"Still, we should warn the master about this man when we return. Nobody likes someone who's nosy," said a third demon.

"Wait," said Zamiel, "I think this man may be our sensitive."

"That blowhard?" said Zamiel's righthand demon with a smirk.

"Completely unprofessional, but he does have a genuine talent," said Zamiel.

"Well...I vote we destroy him," said the youngest demon.

"Fool," hissed Zamiel, "This man could be of use to us."

"You're joking, right? Zamiel, that man would probably rather die than help us," said Zamiel's righthand demon.

"That would probably be preferable," said Zamiel, "With a proper spell, his bones will point us towards what we seek."

"His followers would need a figurehead...and a riot would give us the distraction we need to find the Heir," said Zamiel's righthand demon before smirking and saying, "Just like old times."

"Yes, we just need to wait until his show fizzles out," said Zamiel, "Then we'll have a little backstage meeting."

Hawthorn was starting to get annoyed. "I am trying to save you from eternal doom, you fools!" he yelled.

"We've got plenty of eternal doom to worry about already!" shouted back one of the jeerers.

"The Vulture Brigade is going to play you all for fools and let the demons in and you just want to sit around and wait for that?" snapped Hawthorn.

A small group looked angry at that. "Hey, don't you talk about the commander that way," said one, clearly furious. Hawthorn noted with worry that he was wearing several tags sewn on...the equivalent for medals in the current day and age.

"Your so-called commander has been seduced by a fiendish witch who had the gall of trying to pass herself off as a healer," said Hawthorn, trying to gain back control.

A few of Chris's men were also in the crowd, on downtime, having not heard about the kidnappings yet and looked up at that.

"This wicked wench has probably poisoned dozens of innocent citizens with her vile potions. She has used her devilish charms to enthrall Lynch so that she may rise to power," said Hawthorn.

One of the off duty troopers said, "Who's this poisoner then, man?" reaching under his coat to his barretta.

"The name she has been calling herself to mortals is Kala, but no doubt that is really a cover name," said Hawthorn.

The troopers were about to reach for their guns when a civilian yelled, "Hey, she cured my kid's pneumonia, you asshole!"

"That is only a cover," said Hawthorn, "No doubt she is mixing in spells in her so-called cures to infect people with her dark-"

Suddenly, a snowball flew out of the crowd and knocked off his hat. "Get off the stage, you fraud!" shouted a voice.

"Fuck that. Let's take this git apart!" yelled another to a roar of approval before Hawthorn's guards had to hold back what was basically an angry mob...aimed at the wrong person.

Zamiel's second hand demon said, "Yep, don't do witch hunts like they used to."

"Ok, the floor show's over, now do we take him?" asked another demon.

Zamiel nodded. "Yes...let's put this amateur out of his misery," he said with relish.

...

Hawthorn slammed into the room in his hideout, Kala and Striker dragged in. "You...you two did this...bewitched the crowd," he snarled at them as the guards left.

"Today's average crowd isn't as gullible as you think," said Kala.

"Then maybe I should just kill you now?" said Hawthorn, his temper flaring as he pulled out a dagger before there was two thumps outside before someone knocking. "I am busy!" snarled Hawthorn.

The knock came again, this time harder. "I have a pair of unholy beings to destroy!" snapped Hawthorn.

Hawthorn stomped over to the door and was about to open it when a blade shot through the door...and his thigh. Hawthorn cried out in pain as he fell over, clutching his bleeding leg.

The door flew off its hinges and a man in a hunting cap strode in, a glowing sword in his hand. "Unholy beings, you say?" said the man, "Mind if I have a look first?"

Hawthorn was staring in terror at the figure before seeing what was left of the two guards. "My...god...what are you?" he said in terror.

"Me? I'm what you've been trying to hunt," said the man, "And might I add, I'm a lot better at hunting than you are."

Hawthorn got the glare in his eyes back. "You...YOU...HOW DARE YOU SULLY THIS PLACE TO..." he began.

Just then, the sword went through Hawthorn's chest, cutting him off. "And I'm a lot quieter than you too," said the man.

A flare of fire shot down the sword and practically vaporized Hawthorn before flowing back over his killer. The fire faded, leaving the killer in the exact image of Hawthorn, the real Hawthorn was left as only a skeleton.

"Much better...now then, let's see what our former 'friend' caught?" said the new 'Hawthorn' peering at Striker first. "Hmph...a small time demon," before cocking an eyebrow as Striker said, "Not a demon."

The false Hawthorn sniffed him and said, "You're right, slight trace of magic, but basically an overgrown lizard. Nothing worth worrying about."

Striker stuck his tongue out before the doppelganger peered closely at Kala and sniffing her. "This one however..." he said with a cold smirk. Kala shrank back from him. It was bad enough to be in the same room as a supernatural killer, but being tied up and vulnerable like this was prime nightmare fuel. "Hmm...you're not the Heir. But from your scent, you know where she is," said the doppelganger, the smile widening

Just then, there was the sound of angry voices outside with stomping feet. The false-Hawthorn frowned and said, "It looks like I've run out of time."

A guard burst in. "Sir...it's Vulture Brigade. They must have traced us. We have to get you out," he said panicky.

"Fine," said the faux-Hawthorn, picking up the sack containing the real Hawthorn's bones, "But first I need to take care of this witch."

"There's no time, sir. If you're caught, your cause dies too," said the guard desperately, the sound of explosions and gunfire heard in the background.

'Hawthorn' nodded and said, "You're right, we must go."

Kala and Striker watched as they turned to go, Hawthorn turning and winking sinisterly at her before leaving. A minute later, two troopers in the Enclave armour that Chris's men preferred burst in.

…

Sometime later, Zamiel activated a scrying spell to make contact with his employer. He removed the facial part of his disguise so he would be recognizable.

The others, who had gotten their own disguises when they had been able to, crowded in when the spell just showed static.

"Maybe we have bad reception in this area," suggested one demon.

"Fools...this spell is not some mortal 'radio'," snarled Zamiel.

"Sure is acting like one right now," said one demon.

"Shut up," hissed Zamiel, his eyes glowing red before the spell took and their master's alpha werewolf appeared.

"Zamiel...this is not a good time," said the werewolf angrily.

"I have a report on our hunt," said Zamiel.

"Good...the master could use some good news. Some jumped up dragon just tore the castle apart," said the commander.

"A dragon?" asked Zamiels right hand demon "I thought they were all working for Lord Whathisface."

"Not this one. It was with some of those rebels, tore the place apart to get some of them out," said the commander.

"Looks like we missed out on a lot of action," said one demon.

"Look...if you come back empty handed, the master will rip you all new ones before banishing you. Stay where you are and find that Heir," said the commander.

"But we've secured something that will make the search much easier," said Zamiel, "The bones of a sensitive."

"Good, just finish your job. One more thing...don't call me," said the commander.

With that, the scrying spell disconnected. "Great, another night out here in the cold," griped one demon.

Zamiel calmly pulled out a crossbow and fired into the demon's arm. "Remember your place. We are here to do the master's bidding," he said coldly.

"We won't have to walk through that 'customs' place again, do we?" asked another demon.

"No...I think we will be staying here for a while," said Zamiel darkly.

...

The next day, Kala and Striker were checked out of the hospital. Aside from some rope burn and some minor cuts, Kala wasn't really hurt. Striker had barely suffered, but the hospital's food storage had.

Matt was checking up on Kala. He knew that Striker was fine given that he'd broken into cafeteria storage 5 times already. "Docs said you were talking about demons when you were that git's guest," he said, sitting by her bed.

"I'm pretty sure I saw something," said Kala, "I know that guy, thing, whatever it was, just came in, burned Hawthorn down to the bone and stole his form or something."

"You've been through a bad experience. You probably imagined it. The team said you were out cold when they got there," said Matt, kindly.

"I hope I did," said Kala, "I've got enough to worry about without having to worry if demons are real."

"Look, I got teams sweeping the entire city and the ruins outside the wall. When we find this guy he's dead," said Matt, darkly.

"I suppose you want me to hide until he's gone then," said Kala.

"No, but I want you to move into the high security district, you and the rest of your clan," said Matt, a serious tone entering his voice.

"Matt, it's not that simple," said Kala, "We've had to leave our homes behind before. We're not eager on doing it again. Plus, there are others in there that need our help."

"I'm not going to have that monster take you again," said Matt, angrily.

"Or do you not want me exposed again?" asked Kala.

Matt looked at Kala in shock. "What?" he said in a small voice.

"Maybe you just want me out of the way so I won't compromise your image," said Kala.

"If I cared about my image, those lizards wouldn't be allowed in," said Matt, his temper rising.

"Matt, those dragons may not be the monsters Hawthorn says they are, but they don't deserve the treatment they're getting," said Kala.

"They get perfectly adequate treatment. You know how many requests I've had to export them out the safe zone?" said Mat, angrily.

"Then how comes you're letting smaller ones out into the battlefield?" demanded Kala.

"He wanted to help...and he is apparently perfectly capable. I had a report emailed to me today saying he rescued a recon team," said Matt, trying to be reasonable.

"He did?" asked Kala.

"So I hear..." said Matt, sounding annoyed despite the apparent good news.

"What exactly did he rescue them from?" asked Kala.

"From the castle filled with...hold on, you'll grin at this...werewolves," said Matt before laughing.

Kala didn't grin however. "As in the half man/half wolf werewolves?" she asked.

"Apparently..." said Matt with a smirk before he realized some of the footage from the 'Hell's Half-Mile' security wall. Anywhere that had zombies could easily have other monsters.

"Matt, I think there may be something big going on over there," said Kala.

"Until something happens to force me to go down there, I cannot spare the men. We have enough with Malefor and the other flying flamethrowers," said Matt.

Kala, however, was reading over the report about the rescue mission and about what followed after. "Sounds to me they're in pretty bad shape over there," said Kala.

"He's perfectly fine," said Matt, dismissively.

"Matt, he nearly got killed," said Kala.

Matt said, "He's just a..." before stopping.

"What? A dragon?" snapped Kala, "You know how you treated the dinosaurs. You know how Hawthorn treated me. You know how some people would have treated Megan if they knew about her. Tell me how the way you're treating Spyro is any better."

"He's the same type of dragon as Malefor. You know what that might mean?" yelled Matt, angrily, causing Kala to shrink back.

"Matt, he's still only a teenager," said Kala.

"And what's that supposed to mean?" said Matt, angrily.

"You're punishing him for something he hasn't done yet and might never do," said Kala.

Matt glared. "I will not have a possible traitor in this city..." he began.

"Then why not get rid of me, or Megan, or Striker?" snapped Kala.

"That's not the same!" said Matt, defensively

"Is it?" accused Kala, "Because I think it's just a paper-thin excuse to let your own prejudices out."

Matt glared before getting up to leave.

"If Spyro were here, you would have handed him to Hawthorn, wouldn't you?" demanded Kala.

Matt stopped at the door before saying, "No..." before walking out.

…

Matt sat back in his chair in his office, Kala's words bouncing around his head. The one going around his was that of Kala asking if he would have handed Spyro over to Hawthorn. Matt felt that he wouldn't have, but a nagging doubt was telling him otherwise. In front of him was the personnel transfer for the Romanian regiments, a single name already written in. All it needed was his signature.

A little later, a secretary came in, taking the pile of signed forms away. He looked at the one on the top before looking at surprise at Matt. "Are you sure, sir?" he said

"Yeah, don't ask me why," said Matt, "Just take it in before I change my mind."

"Yes, sir. Mr. Spyro will be on the next transport back," said the secretary, pushing the form back into the pile.

…

Meanwhile, Megan was working on an illusion to go out and explore the city proper. Since Hawthorn's little stunt with Kala, she'd been confined to her house.

"C'mon, these powers have to be good for something besides teleporting," said Megan as she tried to focus.

The laptop on her desk began to beep, the words 'Perimeter breach' flashing on and off. However, Megan had turned the sound off so heard nothing.

"C'mon, work with me," she said as she got a ball of dark energy in her hands.

A knock came from her door at that point, causing her to lose concentration, the energy fading away. "Oh for the love..." she grumbled before walking towards the door. She looked through the peephole and saw one of the guards outside.

"Madam...we need you to let us in," said the guard, his voice sounding dry.

"I'm busy," said Megan.

"This is an important security measure. There is an intruder in the fence," said the guard.

"Can't you guys handle it?" asked Megan.

"We have to check your cha...quarters," said the guard.

"Check them later, I'm trying to work on something," said Megan, starting to get annoyed.

"We do not want to risk the intruder killing you," said the guard.

Megan sighed and said, "Ok, fine," before starting to unbolt the door.

She opened the door and was nearly sick. The guard has a fist sized hole where his chest should have been and his eyes were glowing. "What the hell are you?" she asked.

The guard slumped as a mist came out and formed into a creature with red eyes. "I am Zamiel the Hunter," it said in a growling voice as two more demons came into view.

"Get away from me!" shouted Megan before blasting the demons with her eye beams.

The demons laughed as the beams hit them before they strode in. "You invited us in. It's not just vampires that works on," said one of the demons smugly.

"I said get away!" snapped Megan before her right sleeve tore open to let her massive maw of a forearm out. It snaked forward to chomp Zamiel. Zamiel grabbed it easily and pulled, knocking Megan down before he threw what looked like a worm at her. "Ew, get it away," said Megan, trying to smack the worm aside.

It shot round her neck and immediately she began to feel weak. "A little trick, it will make sure you don't make trouble before our master meets you," said Zamiel.

"I'm...not...going...anywhere..." groaned Megan as she felt the strength drain out of her.

"You're wrong there, mortal...dead wrong," said Zamiel, with a sneer.

As Megan's consciousness was starting to spin into oblivion, she heard one demon remark, "Boy, the line sure has fallen these days, hasn't it?"

"It does not matter. She has the blood. She is who the master wants," said another demon.

"Bundle her up and let's get going," said Zamiel, "The master has been waiting a long time for this." Then everything went black and Megan knew no more.

The three demons walked out, hovering Megan between them in a dark magic field and were blinded as floodlights illuminated them and a voice from the sky said, "Drop your weapons and surrender." The deafening sound of choppers switching off their silent rotors started up.

Zamiel turned to the other two and snarled, "I thought you said the coast was clear."

"This is your final warning: surrender or lethal force will be applied," said the voice, apparently coming from one of the human flying metal contraptions, more flying into view and their 'tanks' rumbling into range with dozens of troopers around them.

"Looks like we'll need a portal," said one of the demons.

"Right, you remember to bring it?" asked the other.

"Yes, I...it's gone...those little imps," said one of the demons, patting his belt pouch

Zamiel growled and said, "When I get my hands on those two little..."

"This is your final warning..." said the voice, anger visible in its tone now

"Now what do we do?" asked one of the demons.

"We could turn into birds and fly off," said the other.

"That will leave the girl behind," said the first demon.

"You want to get blown up?" asked the second.

"Hey, stop those civvies!" said a voice and two familiar people ran up to them.

"Need a hand, Zamiel?" said one of them.

Zamiel growled at them. "I ought to chop your hands off," he snarled.

"What? When we found your lost portal spell?" said the second 'human'.

You mean the one you stole," said the second demon.

"You wound us..." said the first one with a hurt look before a whistling noise was heard and a post shattered as a round hit it.

Zamiel growled and said, "We don't have time for this. Open the portal."

"Of course, oh Hunter," said the first imp, tossing a glass ball to the floor, causing a purple hole to appear where it hit.

"Get the girl," said Zamiel.

The other two demons picked up Megan and unceremoniously threw her into the opened portal before jumping in after her. A hail of gunfire pelted into Zamiel, knocking him over as, now the hostage was gone, the gunships began firing. That may have killed a mortal being, but Zamiel didn't truly qualify as one. He hobbled over to the portal and hurled himself into it.

The imps barely followed in time before the tanks and infantry joined in. One of the troopers radioed in to cease fire when it was clear the intruders had escaped. "Get Anderson on the line...he's gonna blow a fuse," he said.

…

The door to Matt's office slammed open. "LYNCH!" shouted Chris.

Matt yelped and clutched at his chest. "Couldn't you have at least knocked?" asked Matt.

Chris glared. "You said she'd be safe in that warehouse!" he yelled.

"Of course she's safe," said Matt, "Hawthorn never got near the place."

"Then what about the guys who dragged her off? My platoon cornered them and they literally dropped down a hole," said Chris angrily.

Matt blinked and said, "Dropped down a hole?"

"That's what my men say. The tracer I gave her said she's gone to that Romania dead zone," said Chris, calming down a bit.

"Uh, they did have a jet or something?" asked Matt.

"No...it was practically instantaneous," said Chris, showing a readout.

Matt took the readout and looked it over. "This is...impossible," he said.

Chris said, "You forgot how Megan pulled your ass out the fire with the same trick?"

Matt glared before saying sarcastically, "Yeah, she kidnapped herself, I can see it now."

"Fair point," said Chris, "In any case, I'm going after her."

"No, you're not. The Romanian dead zone's the biggest no go area on Earth except for South America and Africa. You try to go in there, you won't come out," said Matt.

"I'm not going to let that happen to Megan," said Chris, "I'm taking the next flight there."

Matt sighed. "Ok...I'll get a squad together. Haven't been to Romania since I had the security wall there set up," he said, before seeing Chris's surprise, "What? I have to go and give some new orders anyway...and I wanna get out of the city for a while."

"And get away from Kala for a while?" said Chris.

"Who told you that?" snapped Matt. Chris smirked to himself and Matt said, "Let's just get going."

…

Not far from the landing strip, a little snowfall had started. However, if one was looking in the right direction, they'd notice one white lump that was moving. As it got closer to the landing strip, it looked a lot like some kind of slug blob that was shivering with cold.

It looked around before homing in on the warmest thing around, the heat expeller on the waiting personnel jet. "W-w-w-w-warm..." said the shivering blob before waddling to the jet.

It sat on the jet engine and seemed to be content...until the pilot's testfired the engine, sending a brief burst of flame from the expeller vent. The blob looked significantly less cold now. "Ooh, toasty," it said.

The blob fell off the jet and looked over to see the open hold before climbing up inside. "Ah...much..." it began before a tech dropped a box of rifles on it. The tech was exiting the hold when he paused. He could have sworn he heard someone say 'I'm okay', but he just shrugged and walked on.

Matt and Chris, in combat gear, walked past the tech and towards the repurposed civilian jet. "Hey, I heard you were sending that purple pest back here," said Chris, conversationally.

"Well, yes," said Matt, "But I think there may be a slight delayment in his departure."

"Why's that?" asked Chris.

"I'd rather not he be here while I'm not," said Matt.

"I know...Techo, Wilson and Talia'll hold the fort," said Chris.

Matt briefly had an image of extremely disorganized offices as well as Striker running around with half his weight in meat over the mess. "Uh, let's not waste any time," said Matt.

…

Megan winced as she started to feel the world form around her again. But she still felt extremely drained.

"Ah...you're awake," said a voice, beyond her field of vision

"Where am I?" asked Megan.

"You are in Romania...as a guest of my master," said the voice before a blurry shape walked into view.

"Romania? How'd I get here?" asked Megan.

"A mutual friend brought you here," said the voice. Megan noticed, as her vision returned properly, that the figure seemed to be in desperate need of a haircut.

"I'm pretty sure we don't have any friends in common," said Megan.

"Oh...but you will have met him. Well, he's not exactly a 'Him'," said the figure.

Megan looked up at him properly and asked, "Who are you?"

"I am Duke Lupo, loyal follower of..." began the figure before Megan saw WHAT Lupo was and screamed. Lupo glared and said, "It's rude to interrupt you know."

"W...w...w" stuttered Megan in horror.

Lupo grinned nastily, showing several sharp teeth. Then he said, "I believe the word you're looking for is 'werewolf."

Megan said worriedly, "Wh...Chris will burn this place down to find me.

Lupo smirked, "Oh...My master will be waiting...but you won't be."

End of Chapter 11