The Leopards return to base after an eventful but fruitless mission. Morgyn and her brother meet him in private, learning more about the mysterious Eldar Corsairs before making a possibly fatal decision. Kallen allays Helene's concerns about him in a rather shocking way, and no sooner does the unit return that Roger is summoned by Prince Edmund for reasons unknown. But as it turns out, he maybe in more danger than ever...

It had been a long day's travel from the Leopards former camp, but they had made good progress. In only fifteen or so miles, they would arrive at the glade, where the two species that made up the unit would split and go to their separate encampments until needed again. As the twin suns began to set, the group was still marching back.

"Can I ask something Rog?" Davie asked in a tone Roger knew he would regret answering.

"Of course Davie."

"Why the hell didn't we take a ride on those hover craft the Abhumans use like last time?"

"Because Davie, their commander thinks we'd break them. And I would like to remind everyone what you did with Scabs back on Coron Two."

Davie frowned as he tried to remember.

"Me and Scabs did a lot of things on Coron, be specific."

"The Chimera thing," Hawke said, scanning the horizon for any enemy troops or patrols.

"Oh! Yeah. Well, that was an accident."

"You and Scabs "accidentally" drove straight into the female shower area after driving through three houses?"

"We were aiming for the commissar's quarters."

Roger snorted as he tried to hold in his laughter before regaining his serjeant required composure.

"Well, I wouldn't trust you near an APC again. Even without Scabs."

Davie turned sullen for a moment, remembering the man who made Davie look like a sober and well thought individual.

"All that shite we got up to, all those years, and he gets a bloody heart attack. No bullet or bolt took him, but his heart gave out. Such a shame."

"The Emperor needed him more than us," Parky said politely, having never met the man.

"Odd choice. He could've had Astartes or braver Guardsmen, and he took Scabs. Maybe the Emperor has a good sense of humor."

The grizzled veteran looked back at Evita, hoping to find her about to rebuke or argue with him, but got no response. It had only been a day or so since she was nearly killed, but the odd circumstances of the attack had turned her mood dark. She could still fight, but obviously was given a rather nasty shock by her near murder. Ironically, the only person who seemed not to notice this was Parky, who she had become nearly inseparable from. Roger hoped that a return to the Cathedral and her sisters would help her return to normal, whatever that was for a Sororitas. Seeing no response, Davie moved to Rogers side and leaned over.

"Can I ask you something else, Rog?" he whispered.

"Of course."

"I've been meaning to ask you this, but I never found the right time."

"Davie, if this is about the explosives, no, you are never handling them again. And that's final."

He took out his canteen and took a sip, but Davie was undeterred.

"Not about that. It's something else."

Roger nodded as he gulped down water.

"How is she?"

"What are you talking about?" he said in confusion, taking another sip.

"The redhead. How long have you been fuckin' her?"

Roger choked on the water, some leaving his lips in a spray, the rest jamming his throat. The other humans looked at him in surprise, wondering what seemed to be the issue. Even a few of the Eldar, spread out around them or behind, took notice.

"Thrones sake Davie!"

"The one with the long rifle. Oh come on Rog, I've known you since you were a brand new lad pissin' yourself the first time you parried a blade, and I know Guardsmen better than anyone. Tall gingers are your one weakness, Emperor knows why when brunettes are better. And I know women too, been down on enough of them to be an expert."

"There are plenty of very fine looking redheads, but if you are referring to Anya, I think you are misinformed, or making assumptions that I can't tolerate out of honor!"

"Fine. You ain't fooling me. I see how she looks at you, and how you look at her. She's always near you. She goes out of her way to make sure you're alright. Just give me an answer and I'll be satisfied."

"I've never done anything that you're assuming."

"Alright. Shame you haven't already. She seems like a nice catch, even for an abhuman. I knew a man who was into ratlings. Bloody odd, he was."

Davie moved away, having gotten an answer that was satisfactory. Roger thanked the Emperor he did so, as his face paled and his breath quickened. Was it that obvious? Did he know something he didn't? If someone as uncultured as Davie could figure out something was going on between him and Anya… did the other Eldar know? If they found out, would something happen? Would they inform her mother? Kill him out of pride? Kill her? He started feeling the early signs of one of those panic attacks and started breathing hard, but not loud enough to be noticed.

"Excuse me Roger."

The voice was so sudden that he nearly cried out or collapsed. Even worse, it was none other than Sister Evita. If she had even an inkling of what was going on, she would certainly.

"Are you all right?"

"I'm… fine. J-just choked a bit on water. Davie is a funny-humorous guy."

"You are not well. We should stop and make camp. It is nearly nightfall."

He was about to disagree, seeing how they only had not much further to go, but that would mean a night march, something he and the lads had done more than enough times to find it unenjoyable. He nodded and made a pained smile.

"You're right Evita. We'll camp here."

He held out his right hand and signaled to stop before turning around.

"We're done marching for the day. Let's find a nice place to spend the night and move when the morning comes!"

He could see relief in the others' faces as the Eldar signaled his intentions. He wiped sweat off his brow and took a shuddering breath as he refocused himself. He needed some sleep, that was goddamn certain.

XXXXXX

"The offer is still available," Anylrch said.

"And I still have to say no," Roger replied, rubbing his face.

He was sitting on a fallen log, facing the blackened remains of grain fields, long burned by the rampaging forces of Third Corps. Two Avengers stood nearby, gazing in the same direction.

"My brother and I admire your dedication to your friends and comrades, but you are facing certain death Roger," Morgyn said, almost pleading.

"If you were facing death, would you want to abandon your fellow Avengers?"

The two were silent for a few moments before Roger cleared his throat.

"By the way, I wanted to ask something. I was given word of a very strange coincidence. Lord D'Uxford made an offhand comment about our Naval forces being concerned about an Eldari cruiser."

He looked at the two, as impassive as ever.

"They determined that it was without a captain. I was wondering if you had any-"

"Star Dagger," Morgyn exclaimed, unable to hide her surprise.

Roger and Anylrch looked at her questioningly. The latter looked to his adopted sister and said something in Eldari, which she quickly replied to. Roger watched as his face turned from suspicion to one of satisfaction, and despite not understanding much of Eldari body language, he figured out what was going on.

"I take it that's your parents ship?"

Morgyn nodded and smiled.

"I contacted their former crew shortly after I recovered from my injuries. They were amazed I had survived, they believed I was lost along with them."

Roger furrowed his brow.

"I thought your parents were killed on board their ship?"

Morgyns face turned sorrowful, but Anylrch spoke before she had to.

"Her parents took command of another craft in their fleet. The battle was a stunning victory for Ducaish… but the only ship lost was commanded by them. They saved our Craftworld, but it came at the cost of a hundred of our kin and a cruiser. We were able to recover their soulstones, but that is little comfort."

"Did their stones go to the infinity circuit?"

"No," Morgyn said suddenly. "They are in a safe location that only I know of."

"Well at least you have that. Their old fleet, how many ships?"

"A flotilla of escorts and a few Cruisers."

"That's… a lot of firepower. Are you sure they will listen to either of you?"

"The Corsairs have a hierarchy of what you would consider princes and barons. Old noble blood. To them, even someone as young and inexperienced as Morgyn is worthy of following and being led by, given her superior pedigree."

"They will teach me the ways of war in the void. It will be a difficult task, and I have much to prove, but I am willing to do so. Destiny has set me on this path, I must accept it. And for lack of better reasons, it is, factually, in my blood."

Roger shrugged as he stood.

"I do appreciate you two inviting me once again to join you, but I feel my responsibilities here are far too great to abandon."

The two Eldar bowed in understanding before Anylrch spoke.

"What are your plans for the Leopards should the worst case scenario prove true?"

"I'm not sure. I think it would be unfair to drag you and your kin into a battle you all have no stake in."

The Avenger nodded and spoke to Morgyn, who made some form of hand signals, which he acknowledged before moving away. Roger eyed her, slowly moving his hand to his sword hilt.

"Morgyn, if you are planning something-"

She looked at him sadly before smiling.

"I know that your mind is made up, and I could never convince you to change it. An admirable, yet tragic trait, fitting for you."

"Why'd you send Anylrch off?"

"I wished to speak with you privately, for I do not know how much time we will be able to spend together."

He became slightly uncomfortable at what was possibly about to happen, but out of polite respect, he stayed.

"Is there something you wish to say?"

"Other than the fact that you are going to get yourself killed for no discernible reason despite being offered an escape? I do wish to say my farewells to you."

"Are you and your brother leaving to join that cruiser now?"

"We need to find a suitable escape. Just vanishing with no warning or reason would be seen as suspicious. Truly cut ties and leave no question. I just feared that we would not have the opportunity to speak face to face before we found a way to do so, or you face certain demise."

"So… this is goodbye for us?" he asked as he stood up.

"Unless fate would allow us another opportunity, I am afraid so."

He was unsure of what to say. Yes, the few times they had been together had been unique, but he felt he barely knew the Avenger before him.

"If this is our last time, I regret we did not get any more chances to be alone."

"I am in agreement. But I believe that fate would not allow us to be together, and never as close as I wish."

She gently took Rogers hands and held them, looking into his eyes.

"And… I know that your heart belongs to another."

He blinked and went slightly pale.

"W-what are you talking about?"

"There is no need to play coy. I see that you and Anya are closer than before. I lost my opportunity when I was injured, and fate now leads me far away from you. It grieves me, but I must accept that she has your heart."

"Is-is it that obvious to everyone?"

"Only to me, it seems. The war mask makes such things unnoticeable."

He was truly unsure of what to say. Morgyn was pretty, her silver hair and brown skin, a unique trait compared to her porcelain white and plain haired kin, making her mysterious and much as he didn't want to admit it, alluring. But now she was leaving at the first opportunity, and accepted Anya being with him. His thoughts stopped as he noticed a wet line across one of her cheeks.

"What's wrong?"

"I-I did not want it to end this way. To say goodbye without truly knowing you."

Roger looked up at her, trying to help a bad situation. He remembered back to the ruins, trying to remember what he did when it seemed he was caught between a rock and a hard place. He blinked and looked back to the woods they were standing on the outskirts of before turning back to her.

"Morgyn, here."

He wrapped a hand around her cheek and gently pulled in a motion towards him. Their lips gently touched, holding them there for a few moments before letting her go.

"Roger…"

"For good luck. You'll need it there in the void. And don't tell anyone."

"I would believe," she sniffled as she wiped another tear away. "That your comrades would not approve."

"Yes. Well that, and if Anya knew I was talking to you, let alone what I just did…"

He was already regretting doing what he just did, but he pushed away the thought.

"I will not say anything."

"Thanks. Are you ready to go back to camp?"

"Can we…"

She lowered her hands to his back, trying to get a hold of him. His initial fears were unfounded as he realized she was trying to pull him in an embrace. He wrapped his arms around her as they pulled into each other.

"Is that better?"

"Could… could we stay like this? For a little while?"

"Of course Morgyn."

Minutes passed, and under the light of Haikk Fours moons, Roger made the best farewell a man could make to a future pirate queen.

XXXXXX

"Right, did everyone remember their things? No one left their canteens or anything? I only ask because some people are constantly forgetting theirs."

"Not me," Davie replied to Rogers question, "I don't drink any of that piss."

The other Guardsmen laughed as Roger tried to hide his disappointment in his men. He had been able to get a decent nights rest, and so did the rest of his squad. His alcohol ban, as unpopular as it was when implemented the day before, was paying dividends.

"Where's Helene?"

"She was changing over in that part of the forest," Parky said as Evita adjusted his rucksack.

Throne, the woman was so invasive and stuck to him that she was practically his bloody mother, he thought. He motioned in thanks, and headed off to find his Cadian. It did not take much to find her, thankfully pulling on her clothes as he arrived. His eyes, much to his annoyance, were drawn to the butterfly tattoo on her-

"Whoever's watching, I hope you liked the show before I gut you."

"I just got here, Helene. I was trying to find out where you went."

"Oh. Sorry Roger."

She turned and grabbed her standard flak jacket, pulling it over her head and fitting it.

"Looking forward to getting back to the Cathedral. I've had enough excitement for a while."

"It's alright. We'll get moving and get back to our beds and decent food. We may even-"

The sound of rustling leaves and breaking branches startled them both, turning to find a familiar face in green armor.

"Kallen?"

"How long have you been here?" Helene growled, reaching for her bayonet.

Kallen chuckled as he seemed to fix his black, well kept hair.

"I arrived as Roger did. I was ensuring the safety of our camp, but since you are both here, and we are out of sight and sound of my brethren and yours, I wish to take care of something I have neglected for too long."

She looked to Roger, who seemed just as baffled.

"I have heard you believe myself… infatuated with you. I wish to dispel and refute this."

"Well, I would trust your-" she started before he raised a hand to silence her.

"Firstly, your looks are far below Eldar standards. While some may appreciate your battle-weary appearance, I find it highly distasteful. Despite my kinds effortless beauty, I can tell that using make-up or some form of cosmetic would be highly appreciated when it comes to you."

"Thank you Kallen, I don't think you need to tell her-"

"Secondly, you are quite too obese for my liking. While some may appreciate having a large rear, I find it rather disgusting. I would take no pride in having such a feature, let alone advertise myself on it. And that is before I begin on that butterfly. Yes, I have seen it, no, I do not think it adds anything to your looks. In fact, it makes a poor situation worse. And your chest, while average for your species, is slightly too large for my taste, or any of my comrades' tastes."

"Okay Kallen, we get it, can you-"

"And finally, most egregiously, your personality is atrocious. I have never met such a bitter, foul-mouthed woman, human or otherwise, in my three hundred of your years. Whatever you believe as wit or masterful use of Low Gothic is merely revolting and makes you look as little more than low-class, lower brow trash among your kind. I would also say that your sarcasm and nihilism is not a sign of maturity, as you falsely believe, but mockery in attempting such."

Helenes eye twitched as she was unable to speak, stunned by the sheer amount of criticism leveled at her. Rogers mouth hung open, finding the entire situation unbelievable.

"Thrones sake Kallen," he mumbled as his palm covered his face.

"In summary, any idea of myself finding you of any interest or attractive is not only laughable, but quite insulting. While I do admire the high self-esteem you hold yourself to by assuming one of the Asuryani would be interested in you, it is quite delusional."

The two looked at him, still dumb from the verbal assault thrown on the Leopards Vox-woman.

"We can still be comrades in arms, and I do enjoy your company, for what it is," Kallen said before turning to Roger. "The Scorpions are prepared to move on your order Roger."

"Y-yeah. Thank you, Kallen."

The Eldar bowed and vanished amongst the foliage. Roger looked over to Helene and nearly dove to grab her before she tried to follow Kallen and kill him.

"Skinny, pointy-eared cock-sucker! I'll slaughter him! You hear me ROGER! I'LL GUT HIM HEAD TO FUCKING TOE, I'll RIP HIS PRICK OFF AND-"

"He'll kill you before you get close, now calm down dammit!"

He was holding her back, nearly failing to contain her before she slackened and stopped trying to fight his grasp. She turned to him, panting, her face red as blood.

"Xenos! Arrogant and insufferable, can't stand seeing a human-"

"He was very rude, and I will reprimand him. But getting mad over an Eldar who acts smug is like getting annoyed at a Space Marine being emotionless."

Helene was frothing at the mouth, but slowly took a few breaths and nodded.

"You're right. I'll get him back one day. Not now."

The two stood quietly for a few moments before she spoke up.

"Do I look that bad?"

Roger rolled his eyes and closed them before he answered.

"No, you look quite good for a Guardswoman, believe me."

"And what about my ass and-"

"Both are fine. You really should get rid of that tattoo though. You're not in your old regiment, so you aren't being held to any lost bets."

She looked at him and smiled meekly. Roger winked at her and returned the smile.

"But I have a good personality right? I'm likable."

His smile melted away and he turned slightly pale.

"Well, I mean-"

"Right Roger?"

"W-we-we should get back to camp, the others will probably miss us."

"Roger?"

"You're a good Cadian, and a good Guardswoman, and that's all that matters. Ask any of the lads," he spluttered, choosing his words carefully.

Her relief was palpable, and with a jerk of his head, they both left towards camp. Hours later, as the twin suns set, the group would move through a hidden entryway in the lower levels of the Cathedral

"Bloody ingrates," Roger grumbled.

"I have never been so manhandled in my life," Evita agreed.

Normally, all the Leopards had to do was enter the hidden door, move through the back rooms and hidden paths of the building, and then get to their quarters. But this time, they were stopped, searched, and carefully watched by the personal guard of Prince Edmund himself. Something was definitely amiss, but Roger couldn't figure out what.

"You don't think we got attacked again by those bombers, do you?" Hawke asked.

"We would have known about it. I got nothing on the net," Helene said dismissively.

"Roger, could I make a request?"

"Of course, Evita."

"I would like to confer with the Bishop and my sisters over the events that occurred during the mission. I understand you normally give a report to Lord D'Uxford and Prince Edmund, but-"

"No issue with me. When we get back to our quarters, take leave and do what you need to."

"My thanks."

"The rest of you, first objective is to get showered and shaved, except for Evita and Helene on that last bit, unless you two want to. You lads look bloody terrible. Except for Parky, but that's because the best he can do is that peachfuzz he's got."

The others laughed as they finally arrived at their barracks. Swinging the door open, Roger looked at the corners and inside, somewhat uneasy for reasons he did not know. The lights flickered on, and seeing no threats, he moved to his bed and dropped his equipment before sitting in the chair behind his desk. Actually, to be more accurate, he fell into it. The others did the same, Helene not bothering to go back to her quarters, seemingly wishing to stay and talk with the others for a little longer.

"Hopefully we don't have to be called out for a little while," she said.

"You've been bloody pissed at our Abhuman friends since we moved out Helene, what's the deal?" Davie asked as he pulled off his boots.

Bob did the same and yawned, laying on top of his blankets and sheets, just satisfied that he was able to lie on a bed again.

"Well, if you want to know, it's because I found out those fucks we call friends, are some of the most-"

"Sarge," Parky interrupted quickly. "Do you think we can get some food? I think we're all a little hungry."

Roger nodded, appreciating the boys ability to never notice hostility, but somehow could defuse it.

"A good idea Parky. Once we get cleaned up a bit, we'll get some food in us. Any disagreement?"

A few snarls and laughs meant the motion to eat as soon as possible went through with little argument.

XXXXXX

The dreams always started the same: he was somewhere in knightly armor, on a brilliant stallion, lance and shield in his hands. The enemies and the lands he fought in always seemed to be different. One night would be through sands and the blazing heat, charging into what seemed to be skeletons and colorful creatures. Other days, it would be on rolling green hills, others whose looks reminded him of what the older veterans and Helene described as Orks. The forests another time, against abominations, half-man, half-beast. All would scream or stare in fear as he charged his impossibly flaming lance into them. He could never remember his own heraldry, but he remembered one flag giving him comfort: a golden Pegasus on a black background. He tried to find its origin and meaning, but never did… maybe it wasn't real, just his imagination. Was he dreaming of Anglerre? It didn't seem like it. His comrades looked similar, but-

A rap at the door from what sounded like an armored fist surprised all the Leopards from their well earned slumber, especially Roger. He seemed to realize it was a bit too early, or sounded serious enough to warrant his personal attention, and stood up before walking over to the door. Pulling it open, he was surprised to find a familiar face.

"Sir Argenac?"

Tristan Argenac was one of the knights in Edmunds personal squadron, and had been the one who had brought Roger to the Cathedral so he could be enlisted in the Prince's service.

"Serjeant Wessyng. I heard you returned last night. Are you well rested?"

"Yes. Er-sir," he replied groggily.

"I'm sorry for waking you this early and with little warning, but I need you to get decently dressed and come with me. As soon as you can."

"Of course. Do my men need to-"

"Just you."

"Very well. Give me a minute and i'll be ready."

"Of course."

Roger motioned the others to get some more sleep before throwing on some underclothes and his surcoat. He attached his sword belt and pulled out his old trusty sword. While the one made of Wraithbone was superior, he had a feeling that showing off such a weapon would be inflammatory at best.

"Something wrong Roger?" Hawke said as he rubbed his eyes.

"No, you lads get some more sleep. Davie, you're in charge."

"Emperor help us all," the old veteran groaned in acceptance.

Opening the door, Sir Tristan looked him up and down before nodding.

"Very good. Come along."

The two started moving towards Edmunds throne room, and Roger suddenly got nervous.

"Is something wrong?"

"In a way, unfortunately yes. And I don't mean about the situation at Al-Madin."

"When it rains it pours."

"So it seems. How have you been, by the way? I haven't seen you much lately."

"Busy running errands for His Highness. And you?"

The two had come to like each other on their initial meeting, Sir Tristan forgetting the rigid social hierarchy expected of noble and commoner on Anglerre for a man of the same county, especially one more intelligent and meticulous to the standard Guardsman.

"Guarding the Prince. Fairly easy so far. Preparing to get thrown into the disaster looming over us. Do your men know?"

"I was ordered not to."

Sir Tristan nodded.

"As were we. Myself and the rest of the knights know, but the infantry don't. I understand that they would probably blab to the rest of Third Corps, but commoner or not, they are guards for the Prince. They're the best we can offer, and they don't get to know?"

"Such is life in the Imperial Guard."

"Sadly. And then we got a new arrival last night."

"From Anglerre?"

"No. Worse. Much worse."

"What does that mean?"

Roger realized he stood in front of the throne room.

"You'll see," the knight said.

He knocked on the door and opened it, speaking to what sounded like the Prince. The door closed again and Tristan looked at Roger.

"Go in. Best of luck serjeant."

Roger nodded, his mild suspicion turning grimmer by the moment. What was going on? He opened the door, and found the throne completely empty. Confused, he looked around the room. He moved closer and closer to the throne, trying to figure out what was happening.

"Serjeant, we are over here."

Turning to find the voice, he saw it was Lord D'Uxford, sitting in a rather comfortable chair, Edmund next to him, who motioned over for him to join them. As Roger approached, showing proper respect, he saw another man in the chair next to Edmunds, wearing simple robes, his sandy blond hair, streaks of barely noticeable grey running through it, slicked back.

"Ah," the unfamiliar man said. "Is this your man Edmund?"

"That would be him. Come over Roger, he won't bite. I'll do that before he ever tries."

The three laughed and Roger took the empty seat next to the blonde man and D'Uxford.

"You requested me, Your Highness?"

"I did. Roger, I would like to introduce-"

"I can do it myself Edmund, I do appreciate your politeness. Theodor Rosencruz. A pleasure to meet you. Edmund and Robert have told me much about you."

He extended a hand, which Roger took and smiled politely. But something was off, like how he was alone with two of the most powerful men in the Corps, and even called them both by their first names. He didn't look Anglois, and didn't act like it either.

"I hope nothing bad."

"No, actually they both hold you in very high esteem. Most Guardsmen are sneered at, and commoners on feudal worlds get treated even worse."

"Anglerre is a better feudal world," D'Uxford added, somewhat icily. "And Wessyng is no commoner. He is of the yeomanry."

"Ah yes, the fabled middle class. Such a rarity in the Imperium. My apologies Roger, I forget myself sometimes."

Roger felt a bit ill suddenly, unsure why.

"My apologies, Theodor, Your Highness, my lord. What is going on here?"

The three looked at him in surprise before Edmund burst into laughter, Theodor smiling in amusement while D'Uxford seemed aloof as ever.

"I told you he was sharp! Can't get one over Roger Wessyng! Ha! See, even our bloody footsloggers are smart. Now you get why we've won as much as we have!"

"I would believe that it also has something to do with my interests here," Theodor responded.

Roger saw the other two quickly turn serious. Edmund noticed Roger pick up on that, sighed and gave a forced smile.

"Roger, Theodor isn't a close friend of mine. He is a very polite and affable fellow, but he is here for less than stellar reasons."

"I… was thinking that."

"I'm glad you were. If you don't mind Theodor, we'll drop the pretenses and get to business, if that is that all right?"

Theodor nodded in agreement before the Prince spoke again

"His full title is Inquisitor Ordinary Theodor Rosencruz."

Rogers' face went pale, his skin cooling to ice despite his best efforts. He turned to Theodor in mild disbelief.

"I-Inquisitor, my apologies, if I knew-"

"No issue Roger. The ability to blend in and not be noticed is a good trait for my work."

"He's here to investigate the situation in the Haikk System," D'Uxford added. "The Holy Inquisition has sent him on a fact-finding mission. He is also to use all powers given him should he find the need to do so."

It sounded more like a warning than anything.

"I thought the Inquisition hunted witches or corruption?" Roger asked in concern. "I wasn't aware that we were dealing with such."

Theodor chuckled softly.

"You are well informed about my institution. You are correct, but there are offices for many things, for problems and the many threats facing the Imperium. But I am no member of the Ordos' Malleus or Hereticus. And thank the blessed Emperor for that, those agents and masters are something else. I should know. I was married to a Witch Hunter for a decade before we realized it was a poor match. Advice to you all, don't marry Inquisitors. Bad idea on many, many levels."

The others laughed nervously before Roger looked back to Theodor.

"Then what are you?"

"I am a member of the Ordo Xenos."

He made a slight smile as Rogers already impending dread turned to terror.

"We are better known as Alien Hunters. You and I need to talk. Personally."