Void's skin tingled with an unfamiliar sense of belonging, something here wasn't right. Void was no idiot, he knew he wouldn't stand too much of a chance against these enemies if they worked together. "I'll be right back" he smiled at them, it must have seemed as if he just vanished. As Void ran at speeds too fast for eyes, human or vampire, to perceive he felt a strange feeling in his gut. Void sniffed the air, and there it was, the smell of disease much stronger than that of the green fog. There is only one thing that could be here which would emit such a stench, his blade. He looked around, where could it possibly be? Void followed the stench like a trail until he finally found it. It came from the inside of a jet, the cargo hold. Void punched his hand through the metal exterior and ripped a hole large enough to climb inside. Yet nothing was there, disappointment was all he could feel, but as soon as he exited the cargo hold he was greeted with a group of SOLDIER armed to the teeth.

Lady Mo looked around, there were vehicles everywhere: cars, planes, all kinds of human inventions that belched deadly smog into the atmosphere. The fools would kill themselves in time, but she wouldn't let that happen - much better for her and her people to do all the killing. There was some comfort to be found in the rushing of howling wolves all around her, but the metal buildings took away any hope of feeling at ease. Even the ground beneath her ever-bare feet was paved, still warm from the previous day's sunlight. With her connection to nature stretched so thin and distant, her powers were severly hindered. "The only way this place could feel like home is if it never existed at all." It was within her capabilities to destroy this place... a tornado, a storm with a few well-placed lightening bolts to detonate jet fuel containers, an earthquake... all in a days work.

"The wolves and I will remain mostly outside to catch the stragglers who try to run." just as she began speaking, the Purge began to thicken the air with their holy vapour. Lady Mo looked up towards the skies, the mists did little more to her than the effects of a gentle rain. The God of the Purge meant nothing to her, it never had. She existed before Christianity, they'd have to do much better than that to discover her own weaknesses; To do that, the Purge would have to acknowledge that a religion other than their own existed, and that was something they were to prideful to ever do. "We will fight were the vampires cannot" she spoke as if she herself was not a vampire, as if they too, are below her.

Perhaps they are... all just pawns on the chess board, while she will reign as Queen.

The Fight or flight.
Quite so, quite so.

"Ah, it seems everything here is in order. Welcome aboard Mr. Varomere. Please right this way, time is of the essence no doubt."

Shutting off the cellphone, and pocketing the device to effectively end Martin's call before the message had even reached. After all, aviation experts suggested the turning off of all electronic devices which may interfere with the plane's instruments, as the joke goes. The best scenario right now for the third party was to return with the boon as directed by superiors, although who this particular man was Agent Eoin had no particular knowledge of. Supposedly someone in the government had wanted to meet with the vampire? That was all he knew by the time the message was sent out to him from MI6 to ready his plane in Kilo Point, await for a possible guest and then proceed to fly out to London for successful extraction due to the incoming hostiles. The hatch door was sealed behind them as they boarded, the steps pulled back and out of way once they were inside the plane, and the interior door passed into the main cabin was opened.

The aircraft pulled back on the runway, turning itself towards the tarmac cleared for its take off. Given the conditions, they made their window as possibly the last flight to leave this hellhole for the night. The engines were already warming up and moving the plane to the long lighted strip due to the urgency of escaping. The captain had no intention of being caught here and dying to whatever it was going on down there.

"Welcome Mr. Varomere, I am Agent Eoin, I will be your steward for the duration of this flight." They took two of the four seats next to a rather seductively-clad blonde who seemed to be ogling at the guest. "As you may know, it will be approximately and 9 hour flight to London. That being said, I am available to provide you with any amenities and services you request from a choice of the finest Tennessee whiskey, to inflight entertainment. Although I believe she is supposed to take care of the entertainment aspect for you Sir." The Englishman cleared his throat a bit. "Do not worry, all expenses have been paid for. A new phone will be given to you for use in Europe," he spoke pulling out the old phone and breaking it apart to remove the SIM card, "and of course a vehicle for use in travel which I am authorized to give upon landing. I'm not quite sure who it is you have as a friend this high up but..."

"Regardless, I am at your disposal, if you have any questions or concerns regarding your trip please wait until we are airborne. Pardon me Mr. Varomere." The agent got up and took his seat in the front cabin to give Mithias some time to think about the entire situation and perhaps some privacy, given the girl's attention over the passenger as she stole away looks at the vampire. American girls and their vampire fantasies right?

Finally, with a roar of the engines and throttle plane took off. Lifting itself off the ground as the wheels retracted back into it, like a big fat bird it flew into the night.

The last flight from Kilo Point.

Across the fields, the barks and howls of a number "wolves" echoed through the darkness. Mithias' froze for a split second as he realized things at the airport had just gotten far worse. He remembered the white wolf vampiress from previous, and blinked in rapid succession, his eyes unable to piece behind the rows of runway lights. Had the wild vampire goddess come to join the fight? Perhaps she or Magnus could have brought the werewolves with them in an effort to rescue Void. Magnus. Somehow, Mithias knew that madman was involved.

Lost in his speculations, Mithias almost missed the steward telling him to board. He cursed himself for getting into this mess. Not half a day had gone by since the meeting with his father, which had gone miraculously well I might add, and he was already in a deathzone. Was he even capable of keeping a promise? On top of that, guilt nagged at him for leaving the scene. All his life, he had always been there, doing what he could. Now, he was a thief, and a killer, and a terrible son.

Plane engines hummed above. This was not unusual at an airport, but these were rather close to the ground, low-flying, as if they were about to land. A wiff of a familiar vapor choked Mithias, and he moved to the back of the plane, away from the door. The humans were of course unaffected and had no idea as to the source of his repulsion. They didn't even notice. Mithias maintained his composure and appeared to listen to the obligatory instructions. The door was already being closed, and that wretched holy vapor wouldn't further contaminate the cabin.

He sat across from a lovely young blonde woman, an American, it seemed. She blushed and smiled at him. "I enjoy taking off in a plane." She said warmly, leaning forward. She must have seen that Mithias was looking through the window, focused on events outside. "Have you ever flown before?" Her innocence was sweet, but she could not distract him.

As the plane began to accelerate, the vampire watched several pairs of glowing red eyes approach like demon streaks in the night, chasing after them. He waited for the subtle sound, the vibrations of a large body jumping up and clinging to the side of the jet ... He didn't feel it, and the demonic red eyes fell away, disappearing into a sea of orange and white lights that mirrored the stary sky above.

Finally, Mithias leaned back and exhaled, running a hand nervously through the top of his hair. God damn. If they simply could avoid being blown up by a missile at this point, they would make it. He tried to relax. There was nothing left to do now, but make the most of what was still possibly his last moments. He looked at the delicious looking woman across from him. "Don't be afraid. Planes are very safe." She smiled and reached out to touch his knee reassuringly. "I'm Jennifer. No matter what, I'll be with you."

Was she truly so caring, or was she acting the part? Mithias couldn't tell as his inhuman eyes stared at her. She was good at being brave. He chose to appreciate the gesture and put his own hand on hers, to which, she did not flinch. This human, she would go down with him, guaranteed to die, and yet *she* would be concerned for *him?* It was touching, even if it was a lie. He looked at her and considered how so many vampires could see humans as nothing. Even the old were infants in their comprehension and abilities when compared to immortals. It was hard even for Mithias not to prejudge. He didn't know who this woman was, and no one wanted him to. Even among her own kind, she was likely a nobody, a call girl, a hired friend. Would turning her change any of that?

"We will make it to London. We have to." He watched her expression of relief that he had spoken to her. "I could really use that Tennessee scotch." A vampire wouldn't physically benefit from drinking it, but Mithias would, mentally.

Magnus dodged the attacks from Kami no Kage in a fury of sidesteps, backsteps, and parries. He gained minor wounds which served nothing more than to piss him off, he calmed himself as best he could, he couldn't lose control now..not yet. All he needed was one tear, one scratch, one cut, and he would release the poison. Magnus dashed backwards and fired his daggers once more, one aimed at Kami's skull, the other aimed at his leg. He took a defensive stance, ready to get the fuck back at a seconds notice, while he waited the few seconds it would take for the daggers to reach their targets.

With a nod Hale ran off and circled the area.
He found a side entrance, there was a baggage cart and a nifty looking bike.
On the ground he saw two humans in hazmat suits, one headless, the other catatonic.
The cart stank to high heaven.
He stood there pondering for a moment, his arms folded. Mikey looked up at him, scared and lost.
"Yeah, I don't know why yet. But I have a feeling I'm going to want your clothes."

---

At this point Martin's whispered vocabulary had reached a maximum density of curses.
Phone kept going to voice mail, all hell was breaking loose around him, Void ran off and no one managed to stop him.
He turned on the truck and set ready to leave. From the briefcase he procured a dart gun. Guess that made plan E?

Suddenly a window shattered and some lunatic in SOLDIER hazmat came crashing in on a bike.
The only sounds overpowering the roaring engine and screeching tires were that of manic laughter and gunfire.

"My que to get the fuck out."
Martin stepped on the gas and plowed the truck straight through arrivals and into the departure path's, following Voids trail outside.

---

Bursting trough scenery and hapless soldiers alike Hale pushed the bike to it's limits. Which, incidentally, was a whole fucking lot of power.
Shattered glass and plastic flew around him in a storm of destruction. This is when Hale felt most alive.
He swerved to barely dodge a large truck coming in from the left. He wasn't using the rear mirror anyways. He could hardly see in this silly suit.
Drifting into the main hall he looked (and fired) around. He saw Magnus fighting some armored ninja, another tall and armed brute he thought he recognized from somewhere and armies of heavily armed humans on both sides.
Hale spun around doing doughnuts on the bike as bits flung of in every direction until his gun gave out and made it's last stand in the form of shrapnel rain.

It was pretty clear Magnus had other things on his mind and wasn't suppressing his ruin. All the better then.
Hale almost lost control of the bike as he kept spinning it around faster and faster.
"eenie meenie miney..ehm.. fuck you!" Hale selected the ninja and, while laughing, flung the massive bike his way.

"You heard the man. Even if your biology suggests you are human, if you are to be my followers, you will abandon all such humanity. You are all predators now. Embrace your true nature." her voice echoed like thunder, strong and commanding. "Hunt. Down. Your. Prey." one last command was given before she quickly stripped off her cumbersome clothing and set it to the side for later. Honestly, why did she even bother with it? In seconds she erupted into her enormous white wolf form and charged into battle. She ate the sick, the dead, the dying, those alive, fighting, or fleeing, her jaws of war knew no prejudice... nor morals.

Compared to bullets, Magnus' daggers were perhaps the slowest thing in the world. Plotting their course was easy, and Kami simply stepped aside as the two of them went past. This would not be a permanent solution however; the tiny thread showed the daggers would return, and Magnus himself had shifted to fighting defensively. He did not have the time to fight down this Oldblood, and he would need something to both eliminate the threat from the daggers and destroy Magnus' stance. Combined with the holy Vapour which would now be burning at Magnus' skin like acid, Kami was at an advantage. He would need to build that advantage, move on top of it, and create a situation in which there was no escape, no possibility of survival.

A plan formed. A series of rapid calculation, a model of the world processed by the mind of a genius. Information on muscles, forces and gravity compiled into a predictive image, an absolute certainty. The capability for modeling reality, the skill that had granted Kami his feared reputation, as close as a human could come to supernatural powers.

His left hand closed around the thread,a s his feet moved into position. He pulled strongly, as the surprised Magnus was thrown out of balance and towards his opponent. Strong as the Elder Vampire might be, his mass was that of a normal human and there was nothing he could do to prevent this chain of events. At the same time, Kami's blade swung down from the side, as Magnus found himself unable to move aside. Trapped in a cage of gravity and momentum, knowing that he would be moved into the path of this shining doom. Time seemed to slow down, as, for an instant, Magnus looked at the reaper's scythe bearing down onto his neck.

Then, of course, Kami was hit by a bike.

With an explosive screech of metal, the vehicle slammed into Kami's suit of armour, launching him away from the melee and into a nearby wall. Shrapnel rained upon the scene, as Hale fistpumped to music nobody else could hear. With a sound much like a glass chime, Kami no Kage fell to the ground, head spinning from the impact, senses fighting to once more assert themselves as adrenaline was pumped into his system. The entire scene was rather absurd.

The failure had been his, of course. Despite realizing that another vampire was present, he had failed to account for the possibility of using some form of ranged attack that would interrupt his strike. He had been too eager to strike what he had seen as the finishing blow, and had snatched defeat from the jaws of victory. Even as he felt his heartbeat racing, and his senses growing sharper, he realized his suit had automatically begun deploying combat drugs. He would need to recover quick - no doubt his opponents would not be lax in making use of this temporary advantage.

Then again, the concentration of Holy Vapour in the air was rapidly growing. Soon, even Magnus would start burning;. Not to death, of course, but enough that Kami no Kage would have no problem finishing him. It was only a matter of time.

-------------------------

The target had been spotted at the Hangar of the plane. Team Uriel had been sent there to investigate the presence of Void's weapon, but from the look of things another group had been there first - most likely SOLDIER. However, these troops were not equipped to deal with a vampire of Void's calibre, not even under the circumstances of the Holy Vapour. Three of them raised specialized flamethrowers, as they formed a wall of continuous fire. This would serve to keep Void away from their rapidly retreating comrades, as well as forming sufficient quantities of heat that it would sterilise the area. They moved backwards, making sure to keep the line intact and prevent any openings from appearing, as the sides were held under shot from Purge agents equipped with automatic weaponry. Their best hope was to retreat, and allow Kami no Kage or a Crusader squad to finish off Void.

The flame was blazing in front of Void, it was quite annoying not used to bright it was he rubbed his eyes. Void dashed directly to the left the flame wall losing only strands of hair and burning patches of clothing. He reached up towards the first man's chest and plunged his hand directly into the man's chest, a disgusting squelching noise was the only thing his comrades heard from him, in an instant Void pivoted and kicked at the man's legs tearing through his thigh destroying bone and flesh, he kept low to the ground and dived at the last flamethrower wielder Void grabbed the man's arms and tore them from his body, he raised the flamethrower the man had been using and charred the man until his screams finally died down. Void looked around to see the rest of the Soldiers had fallen back, Void smiled wolfishly and decided to have a light snack.

The blood stained Void's clothes a waterfall of blood cascading down his chin, he smiled to himself and walked back towards the ensuing fight. The holy mist showering down on him did nothing but burn his skin slightly . "Maybe if they poured gallons of it on me it may begin to really hurt." he thought to himself.

Magnus growled low at the holy vapour poking at his skin, it was irritating, but not really that troublesome. He was snatched towards his opponent VIA his own damned weapon, sword coming mere inches from his neck, then Kami got hit by a damn bike. Magnus steadied himself and turned to Hale fistpumping to some unknown music, it took Magnus all he could do to burst out laughing from the unconventional attack of a motorcycle to the everywhere. Then he turned to the dazed Kami no Kage, he noticed he had dropped his sword a few feet from him, no doubt he would have back up weapons but it simply made him grin. The perfect oppourtunity to inject him with his toxins, Magnus grinned further exposing all of his shark like teeth and dashed full speed at Kami forgoing all strength for one marvelous burst of speed. He reached him in a mere instant, slashing his nearest body part, which happened to be his leg, injecting it with toxin. He did this roughly three times to compensate for the fact that the bottoms of the claws didn't have as many injection ports.

He did a quick backflip away from him and ran back to the posistion he was previously at. "Can you feel it? Can you feel the toxins coursing through your veins? Tell me, they're already taking affect aren't they?" Magnus said with a grin, once more revealing his set of teeth. Magnus picked up the body of the Purge agent he had previously stabbed in the back and drank from him whilst Kami was regainig his composure, blood dripping on perhaps the only portion of this area of the building that was still halfway clean. He tossed the husk aside once he was done and stared, grinning madly at Kami trying to estimate the devastation the toxins were doing to his body. What Magnus didn't know is that his toxins would be slowed by Kami's suit inejecting medicine into his system, but what Kami didn't know is that Magnus was the only one with the cure...
----
Rhyss had swapped from his shotgun to his pistols, picking off part of the Purge from afar that had decided to stay out in the open. He also witnessed the epic fight to the death with Magnus and Kami. They seemed equally matched, up untill Kami grabbed the metal cable attached to Magnus' propelled daggers. Then there's this asshole that nearly hit him with a bike whilst trying to hit Kami. He turned to him, "What the fuck?! You almost took half of my body off. Where the hell did you learn to aim?" He shouted at Hale, obviously pissed off.
----
Matts forces arrived just in time to see the Purge leader get hit with a motorcycle. Amusing as it was, Matt simply didn't have time to sit there and laugh. He slid the van door open and shouted orders over his comm's "Fan out, I want every last Purge hunted down and killed. They want war, they fucking get war. Secure Void if you are able, evac'ing the remaining civillians is top priority. Regardless of who is here, if they are killing Purge assholes consider them temporary allies. You got that? Now, move the fuck out!"

A few hundred SOLDIERs hopped out of the various vans and crew transports from the convoy that was sent as backup. Many of them probably wouldn't make it back, but it was their job to deal with this kind of shit, they knew they'd probably die some day when they signed up for this job. Matt hopped out of the van and hit the ground with a thud, "Surround the area and sweep for Purge and civillians." Matt said. He'd hoped most of the civillians got evac'd already, but sadly they're most likely dead moreso than evac'd by now.

The flight across the Atlantic lasted through the night. A dreary gray dawn greeted our very fortunate vampire as he stepped down from the jet in the old world the next day. Oh how times had changed. Despite how modern it appeared, being anywhere in Eastern Europe always felt like walking into the past. Memories of wars, tyrants, the church, plagues, and even the smell of horse dung on the streets came to mind. Mithias saw the faces of long dead vampires he had put down as he recalled his early years. As a hungry fledgling, he had also killed a lot of humans. Back then, Death seemed to rule with an iron hand. He shook his head to dispel the haunting visions.

Grateful to be on the ground, and to have his fate no longer on the wings of that airplane, Mithias squinted his eyes up appreciatively at the cloud-covered sun.

The structure of the English culture was comforting, its inherent militarism familiar to an old knight and ex-SOLDIER agent. Mithais was lucky to be able to keep his weapons without question, and not to mention Void's sword. Whoever this "Bedi" was who had invited him to London, he was hugely influential. Still, Mithias knew very little of the vainglorious vampire collector, not even his name. For the moment, he seemed to be a mysterious benefactor, but to what purpose? Surely he could have known nothing of Mithias as he lay bleeding on the ground at Kilo Point. If he had wanted Mithias dead, he could have finished him then. For this, he had earned a small degree of trust. ... a small degree.

Mithias was mildly uncomfortable with physically delivering himself into the hands of a powerful unknown. His father had mentioned London, but Gabriel didn't know as much as he pretended to. As far as Mithais knew, the old one didn't have any actual clairvoyance, but he thoroughly enjoyed pretending to. This benevolent setup could still be a trap.

Mithias was given instructions to wait, and shortly thereafter, a shiny, black, new Aston Martin drove up. He was given more instructions, God save the Queen, which included listening to even more instructions once he turned on his new cellphone. The Aston came with a new, black suit hanging in the backseat and a suspiciously swordlength steel (and airtight) case in the trunk. ... Goddamn.

Mithias had all day to himself to sight-see, but he had to be at someplace called the Whispering Oak by nightfall.

Even as Void burst through the flames, those not equipped with flame throwers dashed away. A split second decision was made, as Void's clawed hand ripped through the Kevlar the man had been equipped with, pushing deep into his chest. The three others knew they would soon follow, as Void turned, already expecting to move on to the next kill. He found said kill rushing towards him, as one of the three grabbed him in a bear hug. It was not the force of the hug that was dangerous, it was a mere human competing against a vampire. However, the weight of the impact pushed Void off of his feet, and onto the floor, the human on top of him.

'Ware Kami Ire Ikte!'

With this shouted phrase, the two others unleashed a torrent of flame on the prone Void. The man who had pinned Void down screamed for a mere second as his flesh was burnt to a crisp and his blood was boiled from his veins. The world was reduced to a white blur of pain and heat, flames rushing over Voi'd long-dead skin, as he kicked the corpse off of him.

That was when he realized that both of the men were standing next to him, almost as if they wanted to tackle him again. He'd be ready of course, and he already knew he would rip them apart the moment they entered arm's reach.

Then he noticed they were holding hand grenades.

Oh shit.

-----------------------------------------------

The Purge were stuck. On one side there was Martin and his squad, guarding the route to the plane. Furthermore, incoming transmissions indicated Void was in that direction. But from the back came a horde of ravenous wolves, lead by none less than Lady Mohawk. They had come here to fight SOLDIER, not to fight vampires and wolves. Bullets flew, as the Purge desperately attempted to take cover. But they were hemmed in, and with the supporting fire from SOLDIER, they never truly stood a chance of surviving.

They realized this, of course.

Screaming, a Purge agent jumped into the middle of Martin's SOLDIER army, a hand grenade in each hand. Bullets struck him in the chest, in the arms and legs, and even in the face. And yet he kept running, the grenades exploding in the center of the now panicking men. Purge agents jumped onto the wolves, fighting on with half their body removed, motivated by some inhuman insanity. Several werewolves exploded together with their prey, as they soon learned that any Purge agent would rather blow themselves up than be eaten. Supporting sprays of bullets prevented any form of tactical retreat from the now spreading threat of suicidal maniacs.

They were going to die, so they might as well deal as much damage as they could. Smiling and praying, they leapt to their deaths. In their madness they were unstoppable, nearly undying, as if they themselves had become undead. Explosion after explosion sounded as screaming SOLDIER agents ran, realizing that this was not war. It was not a battle. It never could be.

This was a mutual massacre.

--------------------------------------------------------

Three small holes pierced the layered glass scales that formed the Tetsuo Karada, the specialized armour wielded by Kami no Kage. They revealed what appeared to be deep black skin, pierced by Magnus' claws. The wounds weren't deep, although it was hard to tell. And yet something was distinctly wrong about them. Magnus found himself staring, as he noticed not something, but rather the absence of something. It was actually rather disturbing.

Why was Kami not bleeding? What WAS Kami no Kage?

Of course, it was at that point that he realized something far more fundamental. This was a fight. And in a fight, especially with an opponent such as Kami no Kage, it was a fool's mistake to get distracted. This realization came in the form of dagger, as it's point buried itself in his left eye socket, the force behind it knocking him off it's balance, the crucifix-shaped blade burning as it penetrated his skull, digging into his brain and making the whole world spin.

Kami no Kage spun forward, as a wall of guns prepared to fire, a series of firing arcs so diverse and so dense that no humanoid-shaped opening presented itself. As he stretched out his hand, the magnets activated and the sword spun into his grip. He grabbed a hold of the hilt of the dagger in Magnus'eye as he used it to pull Magnus in front of me. Hundreds of bullets filled the air, Magnus' undead body absorbing hundreds of bullets, shielding Kami no Kage from them. The blade moved to Magnus' neck, as Kami no Kage steered the vampire around as a shield.

[You hold a poison, so you will hold the cure. You will give it to me so I can kill you.]

The formal invitations were sent.
To the Cold Northern Wastes of Siberia
To the Far Stretches of the Orient.
To the Deep Jungles of Africa.
To the Painted Halls of Florence.
Dozens more penned and inked in blood.
A call to Council at the Old Abbey.
Answer the call and ruminate over the fate of vampires and man.
Purfleet, Essex the Castle on the Thames just outside of London.
A perfect place to remember that even great ones die.

Signed by Bedivere himself and sealed with his signet in wax by the tradition of old. These letters would find their way to their intended targets, the other vampiric old ones. It had been some time since the last coven meeting or at least one of this importance, but to determine not only the fate of Void who had executed an unannounced attack shortly after Magnus' own failed attempt at starting a war, but the fate of Humanity and vampire relations all together. The utmost secrecy was required, for to gather such a large number of old bloods was to certain gain the attention of the Purge and Solider but even then they would somehow manage to find out regardless as though they had a leak within their own ranks. So let them come, and rid the world of the lesser elders who are no longer relevant to the world.

"Do you think it wise?" Bedivere asked seated in a chamber of stone seats encircling a stone table. Upon each seat was a shield or sword, some arms or armor belonging to a long dead brother. A helmet or blade in vigil for the fallen knights of Camelot as Bedivere sat at his place to Arthur's right, the second seat away, next to Lancelot Arthur's Right-hand. Now in these ancient halls, they were all no more, Arthur the once and future king gone and yet to return to reclaim his spear and seat. "My agents tell me much of him, we may have even crossed paths in the Holy Lands. Is he worthy? We shall test him but will you accept his claim should he pass? Our ways are dying... And I grow weary of being the last of our Order. Arthur why have you not yet return? She promised me you will, a life as mine was given to you was it not my King? I speak out of turn, I apologize, it has been so long, forgive me my Lord. I am still loyal to you and your Queen." Well, sanity was far out of the question, although perhaps in the privy of the old castle did Bedivere allow himself to drop the shroud of composure and ask the spirits.

It dawn would break soon, and Mithias should arrive by morning. Evidently the boy had even picked up a particular sword, no doubt from Void's own arsenal. A perfect bait to add to the collection of arms. Contagion, what a waste of a fine blade to be coated in disease and such pestilence. Maybe the Purge may find it ever more noxious to deal with in their own containment, or perhaps it was time to create a disease to make the herd tremble before them? It was time to give the last orders to move a stone to Carfax. And then once all is done, return to the waters of the font.

The white hot pain engulfing Void was the only thing he could focus on, under the weight of a mere human he wriggled to free himself. The flames had already done their damage, and Void was infuriated. He escaped the reach of the flames with severe burns all over his body, the less serious ones already healing themselves, the worse ones would take time, but they would fade. Void ran to a safe distance and removed the his now on fire sleeves. After the rage had passed Void found it rather funny how these worms insisted on killing him, he chuckled to himself and turned to where the assaulting team was. It looked as if he dissipated and appeared behind the men, in a cacophony of blood none of the men were left intact. But Void's blood lust was not yet satisfied, and the screams of agony only increased the temptation to return to the battlefield, now drenched in blood and covered in burns Void ran full tilt back to the ensuing carnage.

Nightfall.

Apparently, the reason nobody ever saw vampires in England was because they were all here at this bar, The Whispering Oak. Mithias arrived early, at astronomical twilight. The bar-slash-inn was not necessarily crowded, not yet, but every being inside was a blood drinker. And young too, most being maybe a couple centuries or so, judging by their dress and mannerisms. As soon as the elegantly attired Mithias walked in, the volume died down quite distinctly. Eyes flickered over him in glances and sidelong looks, and those with any mind-reading abilities also took a moment to focus on him... getting only blackness as a response. Mithias didn't shy about flagrantly scanning the crowd. In all honesty, he had never seen this many vampires in one place without a slaughter. Yet here they were, making the most of each other's company. Blades were sheathed, guns were holstered, and supernatural tricks were kept to a minimum. He kept his outward stoicism and kept his hands off his two bare blades at his sides. If he was fortunate, none of these vampires would recognize him. Certainly there were more than a few in the world who had sworn to drain him in vengeance.

Mithias wondered if his mysterious host would be meeting him here or if he would simply send yet another intermediate contact. He walked over to the bar like any casual, young punk, vampire customer, and the background conversations began to resume a normal volume once again. At least for now, he could wear the mantel of an obscure newbie.

The bartender, also a vampire, was quick to see the new customer's desires met. "Welcome friend. Have you had a chance to read our drinks menu?" He went on about the nightly specials and touted the bar as a vampire favorite. "What's your name?"

"Aldaric." It wasn't a lie, technically, but it bought some time.

"Really? What country is that from?"

The night darkened, and the two chatted briefly about whether or not smoking should be permitted in vampire bars. Mithias dodged questions by changing the subject to whether or not that vampiress on the other end was intentionally staring at the barkeep, who's name was Ted, supposedly. Ted also seemed to enjoy history lessons.

The moonlight over Wales.
The pagan moon of the celts.
Round and bright, the cloudless sky.
Reflected upon the lake.

Ted was most certainly not the barkeep's name, Theodore really, but everyone either called him barkeep, bartender, or something of that nature. He was not the first vampire behind the counter, placed so many years ago when the foundation was laid. Despite the mix of young blood, Ted was most likely the eldest after "Aldaric". While picturesquely serene by the moonlit lake, the Whispering Oak held many secrets within the wood walls and stone floors, and if one listened carefully, the tale of the ages could be sung from the stones which prate with every step and creaking wood. A Tavern rustic, still serving foods from the renaissance period, perfected by the First Keeper of the Oak Syth'Kas as entrusted by Bedivere. A vampire bar to conduct business, to swap stories and share in blood, bottles of the stuff stored in the cellar below within Oaken barrels. Blood stew and blood soup for a hearty meal, blood wines to fill the blackest soul with delight, blood beers and spirits to go with a classic dish fried fish from the lake itself. To reveal in the debauchery of human suffering as they gathered for the feasts as blood poured as freely on the taps as any other.

Curiously in the middle of the Inn was a large and mighty Oak, rotund and far more ancient than any vampire present. The gnarled boughs supported the floor above, the rafters of the rooms for the would be patron, while the twisted roots dug into the cellar dungeon. Its leaves were faded, perpetually brown and orange as if in eternal autumn, a lonely tree by the lakeside. The spiral staircase which encircled it led to the scant rooms of the inn, merely for décor perhaps as few vampires ventured up the stairway to reside in a room given the amount of activity on the ground floor. There was a simple set of rules to be followed, keep the weapons sheathed and tongues guarded. Any vampire caught trespassing these rules would have to deal with the owner of the bar.

"Good evening." Speak of the devil. The newest vampire entered the building, primly dressed in a business suit, an umbrella held in one hand as the other took off a coat and hat to be hung in the corner. The room silenced itself for a moment as the white-haired pale one wandered in, eyes taking in the masses as they edged themselves away from his presence. "Welcome to the Whispering Oak Sir Varomere, the second finest establishment in all of Wales." Bedivere had made his way up to the counter, spying Mithias in his suit shooting the bull with Ted. This greeting had also revealed Mithias' identity to the crowd who paused, a slight tension filled the inn only to be dismissed as an equally cold stare from Bedivere challenged any would be hostilities towards his guest.

"A table for two then Theodore. Tea, and treats by ten." Bedivere turned to the slightly flustered barkeep to put in an order, well more than just an order, perhaps a demand or command really. Of course everything in the Whispering Oak was served with blood, as macabre as this may be, what more did you expect from an old vampire bar? The younglings barely fanged and fledged could have their nightclubs and raves, the more cultured and sophisticated would gather here as they had through the centuries.

"Oh, I did not expect your arrival so soon my Lord. Your usual seat is empty of course. But I'm afraid we are short on Ceylon this evening. May I have permission to use the Darjeeling instead?"

With a nod the old knight replied as he return to face Mithias, "Well then my boy, shall we?" He directed an open palm to suggest a seat in front of the oak tree in the middle of the room. "There is much to discuss business-wise as you know, however before we begin, I would like to know a bit more about the vampire I had invited to share meal with me. Come, introduce yourself to your elder will you not?"

A familiar voice drew Mithias' attention from the barkeep. Hardly any time had passed at all since he had come in. There he was, the raven-shifter with the snow-white hair. He seemed so much more warm and relaxed compared to the glaring, disapproving fiend Mithias remembered from the battlefield in Tennessee. Mithias stood and turned to face him, mildly frowning at the immediate slaughter of his alias. So, it would be honesty then.

Mithias remained silent, replying with an affirmative nod as Bedivere gestured to a chair. He sat down across from the elder. "Lord Bedivere of Sinews, I presume?" So the whelp did know who he was addressing. How much more did he know? Mithias didn't crack a smile as he looked from Bedivere to the gossip-hungry public around them and back. He was pinned here, in Bedivere's territory, surrounded by possibly very loyal vampires to the vampire lord, probably even descendents of his line. He had to chose his words carefully. "I am in your debt, good sir. Not only have you spared me, but your recent invitation could not have come at a more convenient time. I have delivered myself into your hands as you intended. What is it you wish of me?" Mithias set his hands evenly on the table before him, sitting comfortably, his golden eyes beautiful in the dim light.

"Hold your god damned fire on that asshole assassin using someone as a meat-shield, I know you idiots heard me when I said to NOT shoot at the people that aren't directly trying to kill you." Matt yelled into the radio yanking a boomerang from the skull of a Purge, "But sir he-" Someone tried to speak. "I don't fucking care, if they ain't trying to kill you leave them the fuck alone for now." All hell had broken loose where Matt was currently at, bullets and various SOLDIER specialized weapons flying everywhere, from throwing knives to boomerangs.
---
The poison had worked, thankfully. But now Magnus had been stabbed in the eye with a dagger and was spun around as a shield, soaking up a a few hundred bullets, regenerating the damage quickly, blood and bullet shells being forced out of his body as the flesh regenerated. The bullets stopped firing eventually, giving him time to concentrate, he closed his eyes and focused on Lady Mo's presence, sending her a image of the current situation he was in. "Heh, thing is Mister Assassin, even if you kill me, you won't find the cure. The toxin will slowly eat away at your brain, shutting down your nervous systems one by one." Magnus told him, grinning. He planted his feet firmly on the ground, causing the dagger to painfully shift in his skull. He growled low at the pain, contemplating a way out of this little predicament. His back up plan, if it worked, was Lady Mo coming and ripping this assholes arm off.

He gauged the situation, if he moved backwards slowly the blade would simply cut his head off. He could kick off of him, ripping the dagger out of his skull and getting him the fuck away or grab him by the arm and toss him. He figured kicking him had a better chance of working with the least damage sustained, he hefted his leg up until his knee was dead center with his chest and Kami's, he turned to the left away from the blade and kicked him square in the chest sending him flying. Magnus doubled backwards as the dagger was ripped from his eye and a long gash ran down the side of his face. He placed his hand to his face to try and stop part of the bleeding, vision impaired and seeing red. He roared at Kami, seething with rage and slightly pissed off about the fact he lost half of his eyesight for the time being. Trying to calm himself downed seemed nigh impossible at the moment, Kami had officially poked the bear too many times and awoken a beast he didn't want to.

Magnus roared, his arms and claws fully extended beside him, he roared loud enough to be heard miles away, blood and spit flying from his maw. He saw nothing but red, and Kami happened to be a big ass ball of red currently. He dashed forward with greatly enhanced speed, nothing but a blur to normal humans and most vampires, a blur of slashing claws fueled by rage. He would cut Kami to shreds, or die trying.

"My my, Arrow Straight to the point. Very well then, business before pleasure, I can respect that: a man who can get things done in proper order." Either praise or indignant insult, perhaps a bit of both intermixed, like a good cocktail of two parts insult to one part praise. "As you already seem to know who I am, I need no introductions, nor did I plan on giving one in earnest. As to your debt, I need no groveling from you old boy, remember few vampires as Old as I act as altruists. I will be frank with you and state that you are an essential part of my plans dear child for a unified vampire nation. That being said, since you are not one of my bloodline, I honor your own free will and would ask that you hear me out before making rash judgments against me. After all, over a cup of tea, the most bitter of enemies may become good friends." Bedivere, risking the monologue as always with his excessive rhetoric and long-winded speeches.

The pot of tea arrived with two cups, and two fruitcakes, blood in both as Ted personally poured out the first two cups out of the silver pot to reveal a thick red fluid against a silver strainer hanging over the cups. Blood soaked leaves fell through the spout, properly brewed vampire tea with two sugars placed in each cup. They were vampires after all, not diabetics and as such sweets and luxuries such as twilight tea were a sign of upper-species upper-class superiority was it not? Far better than wasting a night on human liquors scrounging for drunks looking for a romance.

"Theodore, Let us call it an evening shall we? Take the rest of the night off. I have business matters to discuss." He'd imagine what Mathew Stone would kill to be in Mithias' seat. The man after all did threaten to incite international war to meet with him. Perhaps he would take up on an offer and become a vampire to gain entrance to the Inn without being killed by the mob of vampires which trickled away into the night before Theodore bid Bedivere evening and left. It was now just the two of them as red eyes gazed over Mithias sitting pretty.

Taking the first sip and a tiny sliver of cake so casually to offset the clear establishment of clearing the establishment. "Ah, Darjeeling Sanguine, it is quite a shame that Syth'kas did not live long enough to see the colonization of India by us. His fruitcakes needed something to offset their delectable sweet tang." Bedivere seemed to reminiscence of his acquaintance for a moment before cleaning his lips with a pocket square. "Now that we three are alone, we may discuss the matters of Britain. My sources tell me you are of European decent, German if I read properly on the dossier I skimmed through before getting here, a Crusader even. So tell me, where do your loyalties lie Sir Varomere? The news brings me word that you had resigned your position ever since your brush with death, so if I dare ask, are you afraid of your own death?"

A pause.

"Or are you like I more afraid that one's immortal life becomes meaningless to the point of becoming forgotten and a relic of times past? Is that not right Merlin? He does show potential does he not? I had already ask the brothers and they had no answer, no King either, but we all await for his return to the Isles so that the Queen may see the Glory of Heaven on Earth. You are still loyal are you not Merlin? Or has your years imprisoned by her beauty made you grow bitter?" A sign of madness as Bedivere seemed to interrogate a tree, rather than Mithias speaking of himself and of a "Merlin."

Bedivere might have been a little mad, Mithias surmised this as he noticed the old vampire leaning back and talking to what seemed to be the tree in the middle of the tavern. Merlin, it seemed to be called. Mithias had been a bit perplexed by Bedivere's mention of the "three" of them being left alone together. Certainly, the elder spoke with strict intention. Now he understood. Mithias gathered the reference to Arthurian legend and wondered at its authenticity for the first time. How long Bedivere had been tied to this land exactly? Could there have been any truth to those archaic, fantastical tales?

Nonetheless, Mithias couldn't help but respect the elder vampire, be he a heartless preditor of humankind, insane, or not. He was eloquent, patient, disciplined, and sharp. He had amassed great power over the ages, which was itself worthy of respect, and Mithias inwardly longed to unlock his secrets. A black eyebrow was raised at Bedivere's mention of Mithias' past. It struck him that anyone other than himself and his sire knew such details.

"Your knowledge of my human history is impressive, Lord Bedivere. I was indeed a Templar knight, but I was never a crusader. I was tasked with protecting the good Christian children of God from the damned servants of Satan in our own lands. ... I was a 'vampire hunter.'" Mithias simply made the statement. He leaned back in his chair, watching Bedivere, unmoved by whatever reaction his information brought on. Disgust, or laughter, it didn't phase the confessed murderer across the table. It was just a statement, a brief clip of an old tale from a very different world, enacted by a very different person who no longer lived.

Mithias lowered his eyes with a deep exhale. What was he to tell this lord vampire? Why not tell him the truth? Mithias decided to take that risk and threw caution to the wind. "My loyalties?" He smiled strangely and glanced at the moonlit water. "I once protected all humans, very recently, in fact. I forgave them. I loved them. I allowed them to fill the void of my family, my kin, even though I could never truly live amongst them. I killed for them, vampires, Lord Bedivere, and I spoiled them. All my life, I cleaved to my human concept of morality. As a fledgling, I quickly came into conflict with my sire, and although I could not kill him, I rejected him, despite the gifts he had given me. It was painful, and I know now that I was blind."

White fingers touched the side of the teacup as he looked into his memories. "As time passed, my heart only became more torn. I discovered many vampires were not unlike myself and did not deserve death. But the truth was, I had always known this. I began to have questions and regret my former choices. I found I was alone and morally lost. Hence, I decided to walk the middle road. In an effort to promote true peace, I called others of the same mind to join me, and together we established what was to become SOLDIER. It was to be the ideal organization, the perfect agency to protect all. I gave all my energies to it. I kept my part in their origins a secret, allowing myself to assume the role of a mere agent, and I'd been with them ever since.

Of course, even my noble organization falls to corruption. There is no end to this war, and the whole thing was doomed from the start. I had the idealism of a very human mind. In such limited understanding, I allowed my convictions to tie me down and enslave me. When the time of what would have been my death came, only then, did I realize I was not ready. Regret swallowed me. I felt I had fallen short of my potential, my true purpose, and I was damned to hell." Mithias looked pointedly at Bedivere. "But you and I know that's not how it ended." He seemed to struggle a little with his words. "The very fact that I was saved... and why... I could never return to my former life. The war is a trap, Lord Bedivere. Now, I have a second chance. I have so much life in front of me.... There is so much more I can become! I seek to learn from those who came before me and to repay you and Gabriel who saved me. This is where my loyalties lie, Bedivere. ... If you asked me if I feared death when I was in SOLDIER, I would have said no. But now, I do." He shook his head dismissively and closed his eyes. "My life is too precious to throw away on an endless war. There are debts I must pay."

There was a moment of relative silence as the three digested what had been said. "I will hear your out, my Lord. It is the least I can do. I am not opposed to the creation of a vampire nation, but understand I do not condone the abuse of innocents, be they human or otherwise. Still, it is not likely that I will stop you. I seek refuge, and I would be grateful to spend some time in your company, if you would permit it."