Greetings to thee fascinated by the slow fall of heroes. I just want to take a bit of time to thank all the people who have offered reviews for this story. I really do try to fix whatever it is that's pointed out as bad, and clarify things suggested as confusing. I really appreciate the feedback that this tale seems to have gleaned from all of you. This chapter is the final gathering point. The last few players are assembled as I prepare to send them out on their final quest. Of note is the return of Leona and Snapback to the tale (thanks go to Tremere for pointing out how I seemed to have been ignoring them. Don't be worried though, they'll both have bigger parts to play yet.) Also I offer a brief glimpse into some of the demons that haunt Dominic and perhaps explain to the reader why he acts like he does.

Fall of the Heroes: A Tale of Detroit

Chapter Four: Darkening of Clouds

"Pups and pissy people first!" Jo motioned towards the window. The ronin frowned at her as he climbed through it and onto the ledge, the bundled up box slung over his shoulder. Charlie climbed through next, both disappeared over the edge. Dominic spun around as he heard the front door smash in. He raised his klaive, the shining reflection of the rune of duty glinting across his eyes. He growled as he sprang through the kitchen door and back into the living room. His powerful black and white crinos form easily carrying across the room faster then the surprised cops could follow. Behind him he heard Jo shout in annoyance. The men were dressed like police. But Dominic knew they were neither real police, nor real men. They quickly tried to recover from his surprisingly speedy entry and raised their guns, the rifles and pistols aiming for his heart.

Dominic's hand grabbed onto the mattress and effortlessly flung it across the room towards the door. Bullets snapped out, some ripping through or around the mattress to slap into the wall around him. Dominic quickly charged forward with an inhuman burst of speed, slamming his body right into the mattress even as it struck them. Three of them were knocked off their feet and pinned under it. He ignored them as he raised his klaive and leapt into the remaining five in the hallway. They fired wildly as he spun and slashed at them. He gutted one easily with his first stroke, then quickly spun back and tore the curved back of his blade across another one's jugular. He ducked sharply as a third fired a rifle at his chest, the bullet instead struck home in the cop Dominic had been standing in front of. Dominic sprang upward again, his hand swept out and his claws tore open the gunman's throat and chest. He turned on the last with an ominous growl.

"Look out!" Jo's fearful cry alerted him to the three who had torn themselves out from under the mattress. He grabbed the last man in the hallway and pulled him between him and the others as they fired. The bullets tore apart the cop's body as he screamed in pain. Dominic hissed as a few of the bullets scored glancing hits. Silver! He had expected as much. He dropped his ersatz shield and leapt backward over the edge of the hallway and into the stairwell. As he dropped he saw them shouting and rushing forward, ready to shoot at him. But he wasn't planning on falling far...instead he grabbed onto the bottom edge of the balcony and swung into the hallway directly under them. Even as he landed he bunched his legs under him and sprang straight up. With a roar he shattered through the floor and burst up amidst them. His claws and blade lashed out and tore apart all three before they could react with more then fear.

"Move it Josephine," he snarled into the apartment, hoping she would finally take wing and get out of this madhouse. He turned and started down the stairwell. She sprinted after him, springing over the hole in the walkway. Her short legs working overtime to keep pace with him as he loped easily down the stairs six at a time.

"Slow down willya! Why the hell are you going out the front! Hey, literally slow down!" He paused and glanced up as she continued to scamper after him, he frowned at her.

"Why follow," he growled out with his fanged maw. She rushed down the last few steps to him.

"Because I know you well enough to know you've still got to be hurting bad, and just aren't admitting it," she gasped. He scowled, he was indeed using one of his gifts to ignore the pain and debilitating effects of the lung wound. He'd be fine, at least as long as he had the mental stamina to keep resisting the pain. Still...it might not hurt to have a friend to watch his back. Even if that friend was her. He nodded and motioned towards the front entrance.

"They never think we leave this way," he managed to growl out. It was always such a bother trying to speak human with the partial mouth of a wolf. Jo didn't seem convinced but she motioned for him to lead on.

"Well, let's go then. Just try to-" He was already moving. He leaped off the stairs and dropped the last two stories into the main lobby. The landlord was standing behind his counter and talking worriedly with two officers and the man in a trench coat who was flashing a badge. All four looked up in surprise as Dominic hit the ground, his klaive flashing and teeth bared. The landlord took one look, screamed in terror, and spun away to rush out the front door in a blind panic. Both of the cops went for their guns. The man in the trench coat snarled as he stepped back behind them. Dominic sprang forward in a black blur. He reached the cops long before they could get out their guns, he tore them open and tossed them aside. The bloody bodies slamming hard into the walls with loud wet splats.

"Die dog," snarled the detective as he tore open his coat. His chest split open, the ribs pulling apart the flesh to reveal his innards. Bile and gore spilled out from his stomach and gushed out the hole to splatter along the floor in front of him. A coiled mass burst forth from his chest in a spray of blood as it snapped for Dominic's face. The Shadow Lord sprang back quickly, barely avoiding the attack. Dominic raised his klaive as he eyed the man. The detective's eyes had started to glow eerily as the massive scorpion tail protruding from his chest cavity withdrew again. Its pointed black barb dribbled a few drops of greenish liquid, they sizzled as they hit the floor.

"Fomori," growled Dominic as his eyes narrowed. One of the corrupted humans in service to the Wyrm, granted deadly mutations to help it serve as a foot soldier for the darkness. This creature was obviously far more deadly then his fellows who lay dead about him.

"C'mon fleabag," sneered the fomor as it reached under its coat to grab its own gun. "Do you wanna die up close by poison, or far away by silver?"

"Neither," snarled Dominic coldly as he hurled his arm forward. His klaive hissed through the air. The fomor screamed as the mystical blade sank deep into his throat. The creature staggered and dropped to one knee as it grabbed at the hilt of the blade. Dominic wasted no time, he sprang forward again, his claws ripping the mutant's head from its shoulders. Jo finally reached the bottom of the stairs as he was yanking his blade out of its throat.

"Holy hell in a hand-basket," she gasped as she looked at the carnage. Dominic ignored her as he shifted back to his human shape and rushed up to the doorway. He peeked through it quickly as he slipped his klaive under his coat. The street was clear.

"Let's move, that human didn't alert them yet." He opened the door and quickly rushed down the steps and started to race along the sidewalk. Jo came sprinting after him as they raced down the dark streets. Behind them they could hear the distant echoing howls of the Dancers as they found that their prey had slipped past them once again. Jo giggled in glee at the sound as she ran down a crooked alleyway.

"Man do they sound pissed off. Though at least not as pissed off as they'd be if pissed on. I'd like to see that, literally. Literally I'd like to see them pissed on." Dominic zoned her out, his senses paying sharp attention to the streets around them. They rushed away from the derelict neighborhood that the ronin called home. They again raced out onto a crowded street back in a more populous section of the city. Dominic turned and looked around, sniffing the air slightly to ensure they had gotten away clean. Jo bent over and leaned on her knees while gasping for air.

"We're away," said Dominic as he slipped his hands into his coat and started walking through the crowds. His eyes scanned the mass of humans, alert for any danger from the faceless hordes that surrounded them. "At least for now." Jo stumbled after him, still breathing heavily.

"Well aren't you just a ray of sunshine," she said with a sigh. "I'm really feeling the positive influence of your leadership." He reached out and patted her on the head affectionately as they walked. As he pulled his hand back he frowned and looked down at the smear of blood on his palm.

"Josephine," he said worriedly as he grabbed her shoulder. "Were you hurt?"

"What? No, why would I..." He spun her around and examined her head anxiously for any sign of damage. He found none. "Um, Dominic," she said softly as she reached under his coat, he looked down as her fingers came back stained with blood. "I think your shoulder got hit."

"The silver bullets," he said with a snort. "Blasted silver wounds are always big bleeders. Just the allergic reaction. It's probably not as serious as it looks." He turned and started walking again, shoving her along with him.

"Damn man," she moaned "just how hurt are you now? Are you going to be okay?"

"I'm fine Josephine."

"For how long?"

"Long enough."


Stinkface and his pack rushed down the alley. The whole plan had been shot to hell! Those pathetic human worms that Fer-guath had sent to help had proved useless. Dominic and his friends had torn through them like wet tissue paper. He growled in the back of his throat as he ran, behind him came Rockcrusher and Treeshaker. Who knew where Dominic and the other stinking Garou were now. They had to enclose the trap, cut them off. Suddenly Stinkface paused. He held up his hand to halt his packmates. He shifted, his human form expanding as he returned to his crinos state. His nose sniffed the wind carefully, his ears twitched. He knew that smell! He knew that voice!

He quickly turned to the others and motioned up at the roof of the building they were running past. Both Treeshaker and Rockcrusher glanced at one another. Then with a shrug they too shifted, their pale and thin human guises reshaping into their powerful black crinos forms. Treeshaker tilted her head back, her delicate and long nose sniffing slightly. Her yellow eyes flared open as she caught the scent, she suddenly grinned at him. Stinkface felt his own lips part in a feral smile as he nodded back. He hopped up, his claws sinking into cracks between the bricks of the building. He quickly began to scale. His powerful and long arms easily pulling him up the side of the building. Soon the voice came to him clearer, the accursed voice. The voice that haunted him in his nightmares.

"Can I look? Can I look? Can I look? I wanna look. I wanna look. I wanna look. Can I look? Can I look? Can I look? I wanna look. I wanna..."

"Silence! It is my spyglass. I shall use it." Stinkface frowned at the sound of the second voice. He didn't know it. His rubbery lips peeled back from his dripping fangs. But it didn't matter, he would have his revenge! "Besides, all that I can see is the Spirals milling about in the apartment. Their quarry is long gone."

"Well...okay. But if you don't let me see I'll just have to sing a song to entertain myself. Ninety-nine bottles of beer on the wall. Ninety-nine bottles of beer."

"Fine! Here!" Stinkface pulled himself quietly over the edge of the roof. He slunk down to all fours and slipped up to a nearby AC unit. His ears twitched slightly in eagerness as he lifted his head to peer over the AC. He could make out two figures crouched on the far edge of the building. Both resting on their haunches as they perched on the stone edging that encircled the rooftop. They looked almost like normal humans, but if he concentrated the outer illusion seemed to fade as he looked at their true selves. One was a lean young man, his black cape billowing about him. The second was a smaller shape. Her head covered in blue and purple feathers. The glimmering sparkles on her shoes glinting in the lights of the city. Rockcrusher and Treeshaker pulled themselves over the edge. Their teeth flashed as the spotted the faerie. They grinned eagerly.

"Awwww, now everything just looks further away."

"You look through the other end."

"Oh....oh! That's better." Stinkface stood and took a few careful steps forward. Suddenly the young man spun around. His black gloved hand fell to the hilt of a sword sheathed at his side. His silvery eyes narrowed as he eyed them. The female spun about too, her bright eyes widening in surprise. "This is bad," she chirped with a grin. The young man gripped his sword. He was still crouched on the edge of the roof, but had shifted his weight to the balls of his feet. Stinkface could tell he was ready to spring. He grinned. Let the fool.

"You dead, bitch!" Rockcrusher pointed one of his gnarled claws at the female. Her companion glanced over at her with a sneer.

"Seems like they know you pretty well already." The female scowled slightly as she glared up at him, he smirked. Stinkface chuckled as he started walking forward slowly. He was going to enjoy this.

"Tell me. Do you think you can outfight three Spirals?"

"Not really."

"Then we better run. Get going, I'll cover you."

"What?" The young man glanced back at her, his face indignant. "No, you run. I'll hold them." Stinkface snorted in amusement. His packmates started to growl, he could feel his muscles growing ready. He suddenly roared as he began to charge. Behind him Treeshaker and Rockcrusher started to charge as well.

"No time to argue now." She suddenly jabbed out her elbow, punching it hard into the man's belly. Pushed off balance he only managed an undignified shout of surprised anger as he tipped backwards off the roof. In the same instant her hand was crammed deep into her pocket. Stinkface and his pack ran with all their speed. Their claws extended as they neared the hated foe. She suddenly tossed a large handful of silvery items on the ground. Stinkface roared in surprised pain as his foot came down hard on the metal. He felt them slide about under his feet, tossing him off balance as they burned him. He and his pack collapsed in pain as the faerie laughed at them. Stinkface felt his blood run to burning as he heard her again start one of her accursed singing rhymes.

"Aww the wolfs are ma-ad. They thought themselves so ba-ad. But now they frown, cause they didn't look down. Of tiddlywinks I am so gla-ad!" She turned and hopped off the roof. Tiddlywinks? Stinkface looked around himself. Indeed the small silvery bits of metal were just that. He glanced over at the other two as they gingerly began pushing the tiddlywinks away from themselves. Small patches of red and irritated skin marking where the painful disks of silver had touched. Their eyes burning in anger. Stinkface tilted his head back as he roared into the dark sky.

"I'm gonna kill you, bitch!!!"


"What's the problem," asked Charlie as he lurked in the shadows next to the ronin.

"I'm not sure, something just feels bad about this place." The ronin pressed his ear up to the wall of the warehouse and sniffed slightly. "It just doesn't smell like a hideout for Garou."

"It's the place Jo told us about," said Charlie as he turned and motioned towards the back door. "The least we could do is knock or something." The ronin glanced up and seemed about to argue, then his face went slack and he shrugged.

"I guess," he sighed. Charlie walked over to the door and knocked on it a few times. There was a soft click and hum, and then the door swung open. Charlie peered into the dim room beyond, but couldn't see anyone who might have opened it. He felt an odd chill of disquiet run down his spine as he looked into the empty warehouse.

"Now I think I have a problem with it too," he growled as he took a step forward and looked around. The entire bottom floor of the warehouse took up two stories and was filled with massive piles of boxes and crates. He stepped through the door and started walking down one of the narrow paths between the storage. "Hello? Anyone here?" The ronin followed him in, his eyes darting about as he looked over the desolate building.

"I see nothing," he said quietly, Charlie nodded. He then paused as he spotted one of the boxes. It was labeled as 'focusing mirror plates'. Charlie grinned to himself as he reached over and started ripping through the tape sealing the box. The ronin glanced at him curiously. "What in the world are you doing?"

"I'm gonna look at things from a different angle," said Charlie as he plunged his hand into the swarm of packing peanuts inside the box. The ronin suddenly nodded in understanding as Charlie pulled out a small mirrored disk.

"Be careful." Charlie nodded and then turned to look into the plate. His senses focused all thought on the silvered surface of the mirror. The small dancing lights shone in it like reflected stars on a lake at night. He felt himself starting to move, even as he stayed motionless. He knew then he was stepping sideways, entering into the spirit realm known as the Penumbra. He looked away from the mirror, slipping it safely into the pocket of his torn jeans as he looked around.

The Penumbra was the spiritual reflection of the real world, and within the mystical twilight realm you could see the truth of many things. The ronin stood quietly in the warehouse, his spirit a faded and diminished thing. The warehouse itself was only a dim shadowy reflection of the boxes and crates. But it was not any of this that caught his attention, it was the pattern web. The pattern web was created, unknowingly, by the humans as they brought order to the wilds of nature. The webs usually spanned cities and crawled along roads. But within this building they hung as thickly as one could ever hope to find.

The walls were strung with sharp and heavy masses, the thick web acting as a sort of shield against any possible spiritual invaders. Thin little filament lines stretched and hung throughout the building. Charlie watched in terror as the ronin shifted slightly and brushed one of those lines, it quickly began a slight humming. He followed the warning line upward and gasped as he saw what hung above them. A huge swirl of netting held aloft a swarming bundle of information webs. Flashing blue lights danced and moved along the webs, information flowing in and out of the nest. He could see the pattern spiders moving about the nest, their gleaming spinnerets creating more and more intricate designs in the massive nest. He saw their flashing red eyes twist to look at him, he screamed as he quickly started to shift back into the real world.

The spiders fell towards him as he tried to break through the barrier between worlds.


Jo followed after Dominic's slow and faltering steps. His face had gone pale again, and his breath hissed through clenched teeth. He had given out about eight blocks form the warehouse, Jo could only pray that the Black Spiral Dancers didn't find them before they reached the safe house. Dominic paused and leaned up against a wall, his arm shook slightly as he breathed in large gulps of air.

"How much further," he asked Jo for about the twelfth time.

"Two blocks, we're almost there," she paused as she watched his pale sweating face. "Literally," she added helpfully. Dominic chuckled softly at the joke as he pushed himself upright again.

"Then we should get going, shouldn't we?" He continued the walk, each step eliciting a slight gasp of pain from him. But he didn't stop, nor slow again. Jo shook her head at the foolish pride of it all as they slipped out of a back alley and headed once more towards the warehouse.

"Why couldn't you have just cut him a break," asked Jo as she walked along next to him. Dominic glared down at her.

"Jo, I do not wish to discuss this with you. It is a matter that is none of your concern."

"Why is that? I was there, I went down there just like the rest of you."

"It has nothing to do with your being there or not," snarled Dominic. He shook his head and glanced upwards. He nodded his head slightly to the curved crescent moon glittering over the city. "This matter is as much your concern, as Luna dictated your birth. It is a matter between Garou."

"Oh, and here I thought it was a matter between friends."

"I knew you wouldn't understand."

"Understand what," snapped Jo in irritation. "That you turned on him? That you helped drive him away? That you banished him and took his name?" Dominic suddenly spun on her, his eyes wide with anger. He snarled as he grabbed her coat and shook her slightly.

"You were there Jo, but did you see? Did you stand in the mouth of the temple and watch the battle. Did you watch the madness on the bridge and see what happened there?" He shook her again, his voice growing colder and more angry. Jo stared back at him, her face petulant. Dominic snarled at the accusation in her eyes. "If you had seen what I had seen then you would not question my actions. Or, if you did, you would not question them for being too harsh!" Dominic shoved her back from him and lowered his gaze. "No...not for being too harsh."

"You took from him what it is to be Garou," said Jo angrily. "What would you call that if not harsh? You took his name and all he could ever be remembered for. That's as good as destroying his soul as far as you crazy wolves are concerned. What is that if not harsh, literally harsh!"

"Harsh?" Dominic snarled as he glared at the ground. "Harsh!?!" He suddenly was gripping her about the throat. Jo gasped in surprised fear as his klaive seemed to fly into his hand and hiss to within a mere inch of her face. Her wide eyes grew yet wider as the silvered gleam of the blade flashed before her. Dominic's snarling face was only a few inches away. The gleam of his klaive glinted on his dark features. The rune of duty sparkling across his eyes. "What do you know of it Corax? I am Philodox. I am judge of the Ways. I am judge of my people. I am executor of the Litany. I am death to those who break its cause."

Jo shivered in fear at the gleam in Dominic's glare. Her eyes watched the klaive glint before her face, the silvered runes gleaming within the hardened bone of the blade. Then, as suddenly as he had grabbed her, Dominic's grasp relaxed. Jo quickly fell back a few steps and watched him warily. Dominic simply stood motionless, his eyes looking over his blade. Finally he grinned thinly and a small chuckle escaped his lips. He pulled open his dark coat and once again the blade of silver and bone disappeared into the darkness. He looked up at her and smiled weakly.

"I am sorry Josephine. I should not have done that. But you should not discuss that matter with me again, the issue is closed."

"Okay man," Jo whispered with a small nod. "I really didn't mean to upset you. It's just that-" Dominic's eyes snapped over to glare at her warningly. Jo quickly swallowed her words. "Right, maybe we should just try to get to the meeting spot soon."

"Good idea," agreed Dominic as he motioned for her to lead on. They walked quietly through the back streets and alleys. Jo no longer daring to try her hand at any more conversation. Finally they stepped out into a small open area between a few warehouses. Jo eagerly pointed at one.

"This is it," she exclaimed with a smile as she skipped up to the back door and knocked. It swung open by itself, Jo grinned. "C'mon Dominic, we're here!" He nodded and slowly followed her in. His face had grown grim though, as if he suspected something about the place. Jo walked in smiling and shouting. "Yo Syntax! Where you at? Literally! Where are you?" Jo suddenly paused as she spotted the slim figure in a black body-suit that crouched over two motionless forms. "Oh no," she hissed as she charged forward.


The lodge sat on a small patch of flat ground on the side of the hill. Above it loomed the high rocky peaks of a mountain range. Far below it could be seen the distant gleam of the lights of Detroit. The woods were thick on the hill. Even in the peaceful night sounds could be heard. The rustling of squirrels. The gentle sway of the trees in the wind. The soft lapping of a nearby brook. The distant call of an owl on the hunt. The loud and cursing growl of a wolf...

"Why the hell are we sitting here when we should be in the city looking for them?" 'Leona' Throatripper asked with a snarl as she paced back and forth in front of the cabin in the woods. She had reverted to her lupus form during the run back to the sept and hadn't bothered to change back. Staying in her natural wolf state usually helped her relax. But with her pack shattered and packmates possibly dead she was simply overflowing with undirected need for action. They had returned and spoken to the elders. Leona had expected a quick and sharp response. Instead the council had thanked them and asked them to wait for their decision. Nearby Snapback glanced up at her from where he sat on a tree stump.

"We told the council of elders what happened. Now it is for them to decide, and us to wait."

"I'll wait when I'm dead," growled Leona as she turned on Snapback. Her burning and angry gaze locked with his. He was still in his crinos form and simply glared back at her. Leona's hackles rose slightly as she began to growl louder. For some reason Snapback was just starting to anger her. She could understand that perhaps he had learned to accept his packmates possible deaths more easily then she. After all, he had lost a pack before. She just wished he'd stop expecting the same of her.

"The council will decide what is best. We should just rest." Leona's lips curled back in anger. Neither of their gazes had wavered. Snapback growled slightly in the back of his throat. The deep rumble echoing about his chest. He lifted his hunched shoulders slightly as his eyes bored into hers. Leona's back went stiff as she slowly backed off a step. After another pause she turned her head to the side. Snapback grunted in approval as he relaxed again. "We shall wait, the council will do what is right."

"Yeah," she agreed quietly as she plopped down on the ground and rested her head on her paws. After what seemed like an eternity she heard the door open. She looked up eagerly as five figures slipped out of the cabin and marched off quickly into the dark woods. She glanced up curiously at Snapback, wondering why none of the council had bothered to speak to them. Then she heard voices rising in anger from within the cabin. She snarled slightly and padded forward.

"....your own blood and you shall leave him there to rot?"

"It is still a question whether he is dead or not. Do you believe that Dominic would so easily succumb to a pack of Dancers?" Leona recognized the voices as the two competing heads of the council. The first was Lord Moros Argent of the Silver Fangs. Once leader of the local tribes. The second was Marn 'The One-Eyed', lord of the Get of Fenris tribes and commander of the largest caern in the state, The Raging Falls caern. It was well known the two hadn't gotten along in years. Though it was rare to hear them become so vocal about it.

"I don't question Dominic's ability. What I question is your motives. Did you not once call him friend?" Leona watched as the doors swung open again and Marn stormed out of the building. The Get lord was dressed in a simple pair of jeans and a worn red flannel shirt. He stood six feet tall and his wild gray hair grew in a thick beard and long locks that hung past his shoulders. His worn face was twisted into a scowl. The empty socket of his right eye seeming to hold just as much anger as his left one. Marn turned his head as he growled back into the cabin.

"You too once called him friend. Whatever happened there? Surely nothing to do with him calling into question your ability to lead the tribes." Lord Argent fell silent. Marn turned and hopped off the porch of the cabin. Behind him came the towering figure of Grendal the Caern Warder for Raging Falls, and Marn's enforcer and right hand. He wore his usual combat fatigues. The shirt sleeve of his left arm was pinned up, as Grendal had lost it in battle many years ago. His face was dispassionate and grim as always. Leona quickly scampered back out of their way as they walked down the path back towards the caern heart. The door creaked open as Lord Moros Argent poked his head out and watched the two depart

He slowly turned to look down at her. Leona felt herself grow still under that quiet and watchful gaze. She glanced up at the wizened and stately looking older man leaning on a walking cane. He looked about sixty, though Leona knew he was much older. Lord Argent, the great warrior and Theurge. How pale and sickly he looked now. But there was still a near palpable aura of greatness about him. Leona could well remember the stories around the campfires of her youth. Could recall the awe on others faces as they spoke of Lord Argent. Tales of his bravery, and how he had conceived of the plan to finally destroy Tyranthraxus.

"You there," Argent's voice sounded slightly unsure. His manner seeming uncomfortable and nervous for some reason. Leona cocked her head curiously at the tone, not expecting that trace of weakness in such a hero. "You were a member of that pack, yes? The one that Dominic led into Detroit?" His rheumy eyes focused in on her as he beckoned for her to come to him. His mouth softly shifted into a comfortable grin, all nervousness seeming to leave him. "Please, I have an important question to ask of you. Both of you."

Leona glanced back at Snapback. He scowled, obviously not interested. However, she wished to know what had happened with the council and thus eagerly loped up onto the porch. Snapback growled slightly as he followed, shifting slowly back into his homid form. His jeans and shirt seeming to form back with him. He stood up and stretched his broad shoulders. His hatchet shaped face still drawn up in a dark frown. They followed Argent into the great lodge of the tribes. The inside of the cabin was primarily one large room covered in trophies. The large wooden support posts that held up the vaulted ceiling were covered with carved stories and songs of the great battles and heroes of the local tribes. Leona couldn't help but bow her head slightly as she entered, feeling the great weight of the fallen heroes who had come and gone before her. She knew it was the wish of all Garou to be thus remembered, to be immortalized for their greatest deeds.

Her eyes danced over some of the trophies and items. The great battle-axe of the Get Ahroun, Strength-of-Bear, who had founded the caern. Its oaken handle worn smooth by years of use. Its gleaming blade notched, but still sharp. Nearby was the shattered remains of the staff of Storms-Through-Trees. The famous Theurge who had given his life to first imprison Tyranthraxus when the great demon beast had assaulted the caern many years ago. Finally she spotted the rolled up scroll next to the door. The original written record immortalizing the heroes who had battled and crushed the demon's evil when he had attempted to return. She knew well the names. She looked back at Lord Argent, pointedly reminded of his past deeds.

"Please child, shift to the homid. We have matters to discuss that cannot be accomplished in the tongue of the wolves." Leona shifted. She felt her warm coat of fur fade away to be replaced by soft pink skin. Felt her legs lengthen and loose their easy spring. Felt her bones shift and grow as they painfully stretched out. She quickly stood up, annoyed at the strange ungainliness of two legged movement. She watched the aged leader of the Silver Fangs. He walked over to the great table of the tribes and pulled out a chair. He sank into it slowly with a slight, yet contented, sigh. As he looked up one of his silvered eyebrows lifted slightly. "No clothes?"

"You wished to talk, not compare fashions," growled Leona tartly. Snapback chuckled slightly from behind her. Leona ignored him and crossed her arms over her bare chest. She had never understood the human's need to clothe themselves even in comfortable weather. She looked back at Argent. "What is this issue that must be spoken of as a human?"

"Betrayal."

"Betrayal," echoed Leona in surprise. Argent had been right, they had to be in homid to talk of this. For wolves had no word for the base treachery that was a human invention alone. Leona brushed some of her wild blonde hair back from her face. "What betrayal?"

"Something is amiss in the tribes. Something with Lord Marn."

"You should be careful of saying such things," snarled Snapback as he took a step forward. Lord Argent glanced over slowly at the glowering Ahroun. His worn eyes narrowed slightly. Leona could swear that for a brief instant he looked more like the great and powerful warrior of old. Snapback's eyes widened slightly as he nervously blinked in fear.

"It is also very interesting how this ambush happened. It was a quick plan, few knew of it. Yet not only were you ambushed by the Dancers. But you were assaulted by practically every warrior they could muster. Does it not seem strange? It is almost as though they knew Dominic would be there with only a small force. An easy way to remove a threat, is it not?"

"Perhaps coincidence," said Snapback with a shake of his head. Leona half wanted to agree with him. She didn't like the thought that the Dancers may have been warned of the arrival of Dominic and her pack. She felt her head throb slightly in annoyance. She growled slightly and rubbed at her temples to ease the pressure, uneasy with having to think of such plots. How she despised the humans and their deceiving ways! "What if the Spirals just saw us enter the city? Perhaps they noticed us waiting for the truck."

"Perhaps." Argent shrugged slightly, his eyes glancing over Snapback carefully. He then turned back to Leona. "The council has decided not to take any action about your pack." Leona's lips lifted into a snarl, her back grew tense. She couldn't believe it. "I cannot understand why Marn would abandon his own blood and his old friend to a hunting pack of Dancers," continued Argent. "It is not like him to be afraid of battle."

"Then why?" Leona felt a whine of begging enter into her voice. "Why was it done?"

"That is what I intend to find out. I intend to actually enter into Detroit to find and help Dominic and the others. I hope that in so doing I can discover what it is that has so afflicted Marn with caution and fear. And what may have caused the Dancers to learn of your raid."

"But Lord," said Leona worriedly, "you are not as...healthy as you once were. Is this a wise choice of action?" He nodded slowly at her question. He then tilted his head back and looked around the lodge, his eyes dancing along all the old glory of the days long past. Finally he seemed to grin as he looked back to her.

"Wisdom is sometimes superseded by the need for men to take brave action. Marn will not, thus it falls to me." Argent leaned forward slightly, resting his hands upon the top of his cane and leaning his chin upon them. His pale eyes moved back and forth between Leona's and Snapback's faces. "Unfortunately my tribe's numbers are ever small in this area. Do you wish to come with me and aid your pack? It could be very dangerous." Leona felt a feral grin spreading across her face. She stepped forward and dropped to one knee before Argent.

"Lord, it would be my pleasure!"


Charlie's eyes slowly blinked open, he groaned and looked around. He was laying on the floor of the warehouse, the ronin was next to him. He shook his head and tried to rise, but found that he couldn't. He growled in annoyance and tried again, a painful burn started to lance up his arms and back as he struggled.

"Kindly desist your meaningless endeavor," said a frigid voice. Charlie twisted his head slightly to look over the ronin's body to the speaker. It was a young woman dressed in a form fitting black spandex body-suit. The material glistened under the harsh light of the warehouse, showcasing the lithe body it covered. The woman's midnight black hair hung to her shoulders, there it appeared to have been cut off In a rough and unskilled manner. Various clumps hung at differing levels as the thick hair curled slightly at the jagged ends. Her tapering beautiful face and finely boned features were offset by the dark glower of her gray eyes as she looked down at them. Her face seemed almost washed out and childlike, until Charlie realized it was because she wore no makeup.

"Who the hell are you," he growled as he again tried to rise, he snarled in pain as he felt his back again twist and pull in anguish.

"Getting up would be a tactical mistake. You are quite firmly attached to the pattern of the cement floor here. I would steadfastly advise against shifting forms, I am unsure what results that would engender. I would hazard an assumption of a seventy-eight percent probability that it would shred the skin from your body though." Her voice was clipped and short, she had pulled out a small black box that almost seemed to resemble a transistor radio. She looked down at it with a frown as she tapped some buttons. Charlie heard a low groan as the ronin woke.

"What the hell," he moaned as his eyes fluttered open. He looked about warily, his head quickly turning to Charlie.

"It was a trap, a big Weaver nest," said Charlie quickly. "We're attached to the floor, don't try to get up or shift." The ronin nodded slightly as he turned to glance up at the woman.

"Who are you," he asked.

"Your captor," she quickly responded. "Please be quiet, I am dealing with the damage you did to my home." Her fingers danced lightly over the device in her hands as she looked around the large room.

"We know Jo," said the ronin, "I don't suppose you're her friend?" Charlie almost hissed in annoyance at his own foolishness, he should have asked that already. The woman paused and glanced up, she nodded slightly and went back to her work. "Jo told us to come here, she said it would be a safe place to rest."

"What is the password?" Charlie and the ronin glanced at each other. Charlie groaned.

"She didn't tell us about any password."

"There is some probability of truth in those words, Josephine Corven is a rather unreliable source of facts. But I believe I shall continue to restrain you for now." She put away her device and looked down at them. Her eyes flashed quickly over Charlie's torn clothes and wounds, and the ronin's blood stained hands and package. She kneeled down and pulled the box to her as she started to unwrap it.

"What the hell are you doing," growled the ronin in annoyance.

"Going through your things with the same impunity you felt upon invading my home," she replied icily. She pulled the box free of the blanket and eyed the lock with a frown. The ronin grinned slightly.

"Don't think I'm going to tell you the combination."

"You do not need to," came her curt reply as she leaned down to the lock. "Open for me," her chill voice whispered softly. Charlie rolled his eyes at her strangeness and then froze as he heard a dull click.

"Glass Walker," hissed the ronin softly. "That explains the pattern spiders." She glanced up and nodded at his words. Charlie's eye widened as he looked at the woman again. A Glass Walker? The Garou tribe who had turned their backs upon Gaia to live within the cities like the Bone Gnawers. But at least the Gnawers claimed to be helping the poor and destitute humans of the city. The Glass Walkers sought to master machinery and the systems of mankind. They were considered traitors to the cause of Gaia, having sold their souls to the cold and calculating machinations of the Weaver.

She stretched out one slim hand and opened the box. She reached into it and Charlie heard her rustling papers and shifting about other items. The ronin scowled and looked away, his face no longer calm, but flushed with impotent anger. Charlie watched her lean over, her wide gray eyes dancing back and forth as she looked through the box. Suddenly she paused, she glanced up at the ronin and then back at the box. She slowly reached up and closed the lid, the lock snapped shut again. She opened her mouth and seemed about to speak when there came a distant knocking. They all paused as they heard a door open and the shrill cries of a certain Corax.

"Yo Syntax! Where ya at? Literally! Where are you?" Syntax lifted her head at the shout. Charlie sighed in relief. "Oh no," came Jo's hissed words as they heard her feet running forward. "Hey! Sphinx! The password is sphinx! Don't hurt those two they're friends!"

"Now she remembers the password," snarled Charlie as he saw Jo run up and grab Syntax's arm. The Glass Walker stood up and looked at Jo with a frown.

"What is going on, and who are these two people you are sending into my home to rip up my orderly designs?"

"Oh, sorry about that," said Jo with a shrug. "Had nowhere else to go. And there's three of them, not two." She turned to motion to the slowly advancing shape of Dominic. He drew up short as he spotted the Glass Walker. Syntax frowned as she looked back at him. Both of their faces twitched slightly, Dominic shifted uneasily and scowled. Syntax turned to glance down icily at Jo, who smirked and shrugged again. "Uh...we're just looking to rest up and heal."

"Very well," said Syntax coldly, "I suppose you better come upstairs."


Kendar watched Pugdog once again describe the battle to Endelon. The master assassin stood quietly, his arms crossed and his face still gently smiling as he listened. Already Pugdog was telling more of the truth, and Endelon hadn't even asked him for it. Amazing how nervous that soft smile could make even the most feral Dancer. After the failed attack at the apartment the Dancers had drifted off to recover in the sewers. The dark and twisting tunnels more home to them then the streets above. The human pigs who claimed to serve the Wyrm had announced they would track down the Garou and contact the Dancers when they had. Kendar hated dealing with the apes, but realized they did know more about the city then he and his men. Finally Pugdog finished and Endelon glanced up to Kendar, the simple motion implying he believed the pathetic cur. Kendar rose and walked forward, he grabbed Pugdog around the throat and dragged him forward till their eyes met.

"You are a worthless piece of cow-dung not fit to master a woman much less a pack!" Around them the other Dancers chuckled. Teeth flashed in the darkness. Soon Pugdog would face many fights from others who felt he had shown weakness. Kendar would be impressed if he survived for long once they returned to the Hive. "You once commanded four, who is left now?"

"Tick and Quiggis," gasped Pugdog. Kendar glanced up as the two Dancers shuffled forward, both bearing nasty gashes and holes around their eyes, their faces still stained with blood. They hung their heads as Kendar shook Pugdog again.

"No, you command none! Your pack is to join another." He glared up and looked around, there were at least three packs he felt were too small and needed the help. But he paused as he caught sight of one. Perfect! "You will run with Stinkface and his," sneered Kendar as he shoved Pugdog away from him. He saw the swell of Stinkface's chest. Even as Pugdog turned to glare at the whelp. Yes this was perfect. Either the young pup would earn his leadership and become a worthwhile pack leader. Or Pugdog would kill him and regain his own sense of worth. Either way Kendar would have one strong pack and a strong leader instead of two weak ones with weak leaders. "Rest now, we will hunt again soon!"

The packs dispersed to find nearby places and dry sections they would claim as their own. The stronger and smarter packs would of course get the best places. Even in rest the Dancers trained to be better. Kendar nodded at Endelon and the two slipped quietly into a dark back section of the pipes. If such a thing as friendship could exist amongst the Black Spiral Dancers, then he and Endelon where friends. Each respected the others strengths, and complimented their weaknesses. Together they had dealt with every threat that had ever been placed before them. Together they had carved a bloody swath to positions of power within the sept.

"You should contact Fer-guath and tell him of the new ally," suggested Endelon quietly. Kendar nodded in agreement. Both of them knew how much the sept leader craved information. Kendar pulled out a shriveled human ear from within his coat and quickly spoke into it the new information. Endelon waited patiently with a smirk on his face. Kendar finished his report and shoved the ear back into his coat.

"So, what views do you hold of the hunt? What is interesting about our prey?"

"I crossed blades with Dominic at the lake," said Endelon quietly, his voice betraying no emotion. But Kendar spotted the slight gleam of pride in his old friend's eyes. He knew that even the faintest glimmer of emotion in Endelon's eyes was of note. "He is skilled and fast, he lives up to his legend."

"He who rends the darkness," muttered Kendar. "Be that as it may he shall not survive this hunt."

"I agree, he is good...but I am better. When next we meet I shall remove his heart from his body."

"You grow overeager my friend. Do you forget that you were placed in command of this hunt. Do not think I shall take your place so that you may rush off to gain glory on your own."

"And why not," asked Endelon with a small chuckle. "You have done so before, it is for you to lead and me to stalk." Kendar frowned, but offered no more opinion on the matter. "What do you think about the second? His ally at the lake."

"The second is a pup," snorted Kendar. "There is no threat there." Endelon nodded in agreement. "And he has the Corax with him. But she is meaningless, hardly worth the kill."

"Still, a bird crushed in the hand is worth more then two chased from the bush. She still serves the packs, she speaks secrets to them we wish hidden. Her removal will only strengthen us." Kendar nodded in agreement to the advice, Endelon's smirk faded as he leaned in closer. "But what of the last? He who drops a pack as though they were nothing?"

"I could have destroyed Pugdog's pack," snarled Kendar in annoyance.

"Ah, but so quickly and without being hit in turn?" Kendar scowled as he looked back to Endelon. But the quiet assassin wasn't questioning his skills, just seeking an accurate appraisal of the foe's ability. Kendar nodded in agreement.

"You are right, he is dangerous. But is he a match for you or I?" Endelon grinned again. "Come, we shall wait for those human fools to find the prey, then we shall hunt again." He turned and headed back into the pipes the rest of the packs had slunk into. "I believe I shall visit with Gorefist's pack. She seemed eager to have me again." The smile faded from Endelon's face, his lips curled back in disdain.

"More grunting and sweating. The wet slap of flesh on flesh. It is a waste of energy." Kendar ignored Endelon's complaints. It was well known within the tribe that the master assassin didn't lie down with anyone.

"Careful, if you are not the pups may start to believe you an eunuch."

"I care not what the pups think."

Kendar shrugged and continued on his way. Endelon watched him go, then turned the other direction. He walked quietly through the dark sewer tunnels. Finally he reached his goal. The sewer cover slid back as he emerged once more onto the streets above. He wrapped his black robes about himself as he sniffed at the air. He wasn't content to allow the foolish apes to do his hunting for him. No, he was not going to allow them to botch another attempt. He would have Dominic's heart for himself. Endelon's calm smile returned. As always, his dark blue eyes shared none of the humor.