Grant nodded, and left the warehouse, slipping into a barbershop nearby and gave himself a quick haircut before slipping on the [url=http://i.imgur.com/hmw08tE.jpg] bi-colored mask[/url]. Though when he first started being a mercenary, he had decided against wearing the same mask as his father, events in the time he was away led him to don the mask as a way to honor him. He checked his [url=http://i.imgur.com/o49VcsV.jpg]armor[/url] one last time before heading towards the mansion. He had decided to heed Rachel's advice and let his former teammates know that he was, indeed, back. The decision, of course, was not completely out of his plan, and in all honesty, he needed them. The team had strengths he was lacking, and powers that he would never be able to access.

 He knew he could avenge his brother, but it wasn't a one man job, unlike what he planned for the archer who took his eye. And if there was one thing he was going to handle alone, it was that he was going to completely destroy his personal life, and beat him as badly as he had been all those months ago. But that was the near future, and this is now. Grant parked his bike and walked up to the mansion, the holster on his hip and the gun in it bouncing slightly from his walk. He knew that there were magical defenses, but he didn't believe in magic, not really. No, Grant preferred to think of magic as energy sources not yet within science's grasp. He was a cynic and a realist, cold and hardened by the experiences in his life, more recently by the things he had encountered, choices he had to make during his time away. Nevertheless he had to appear to them as a much lighter version of himself, still cold, but perhaps less so than what he really was. 

His father had trained him to fight. The League had trained him to be a killer. The Russians had trained him to be a ghost. But [i]he[/i] had taken his training, a lifetime's worth, and made himself into what he really was. A mercenary.

Of course, he expected shock at his missing eye, questions at where he had been, but they were an accepting lot. Then again.....he looked down at his hand. The tremors had returned, and while he was able to hide them temporarily, when the full-body tremors came, it's be impossible to hide and they'd see just how much rage he walked around with, how much anger he carried from 18 years of living. Rā's had seen it from an early age and had taught him to harness it, but even then, he [i]knew[/i]. This kind of rage can't be put on a leash, can't be controlled, at least not fully. 

Grant Wilson was an angry, enraged person beneath the calm exterior he put forth. He liked to think of himself as a planner, a tactician, but the moment he gave into that well of rage beneath the surface, it became less about the plans he put in place, and more about breaking bones, making his enemies suffer underneath his hands. 

A rustling from behind him caught his attention. He walked over, rage evident in his eye behind his mask and ripped Katya Dobrova from her hiding place. She flew through the air for a foot and a half before hitting a tree. He turned to see Sinna leave, probably to a date, judging by her state of dress. Katya's landing against the tree sounded in tandem with the door slamming shut and it was fairly dark outside by now so she couldn't see them. Grant turned back to Katya. 

"How long have you been following me? HOW LONG?! Since Rachel?" He bellowed. Grant's heartbeat began to pound in his ears. His hands shook uncontrollably now, as he undid the straps to his mask, which fell to the ground. Grant yelled in frustration and punched a nearby tree, bark flying off, before running. He had to go, to get away before he killed someone and by extension, his plans.

Katya grabbed his mask and ran inside the house, clutching his mask tight against her. She spoke in fluent English with a very thick Russian accent. 

"Help me save the man I love. His name is Grant Wilson."