Thin eyebrows furrowed, their owner furiously scanning the crumpled newspaper page again. Lukas Bondevik sat at a wooden table, running a gloved hand through his dyed brown hair as his dull blue eyes glowered unforgivingly at the paper. The International Times were one of the few publishers that had not stopped running, and had branches throughout the world, hence the name, so Lukas made it a point to snag a copy every morning. This morning's venture brought back unbelievable results. "What's going on? Could it be..."

A tall man clad in a black trench coat rested an arm on Lukas' cloaked shoulder, reading the news over his shoulder, smiling as the Norwegian growled in annoyance at his actions. "Be what, Lulu? Something happen with them?"

Most of his blonde hair was parted to the right and settled into short, voluminous spikes. His ears were pierced, with a square jett stud in the right lobe and a small serpentine obsidian stud in the left. In contrast, Lukas was dressed plainly with just a dark cloak concealing a dark blue dress shirt and uniform pants.

Lukas shrugged the offending limb off, snapping, "Don't address me so closely, Densen."

The brunette whipped a crowbar out in time to block the axe crashing down towards his head. The dissonant clang reverberated in the tension-filled air. A gloved hand easily wielded the large axe, its owner smiling darkly. "I don't like that tone, Lu~kas."

Lukas snarled, and the pair broke off, stowing their weapons away.

The small scuffle had drawn the other occupants of the house out. A short, stone-faced male appeared first, followed by a tall and equally phlegmatic partner, asking, "What's with all the noise?"

Lukas faced them. "We're going to pay that English bastard a visit."