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They arrived at their destination soon enough. An armada of guards surrounded them, eyes filled with unmistakable distrust. They were armed and ready, their guns poised to strike at any sign of danger. Years before, Kit would've been cautious. Intimidated, even. But years of entrapment, forced along by similarly armed guards and the constant reminder of a futile escape wrapped around his chest, desensitized any fear from being around the guards. Kit moved inbetween the group, positioning himself so that he remained as close as he could to his companions. He met each guard's gaze evenly, the glint in his eyes not quite rage, but dangerous nonetheless. 

A small shiver crawled up Kit's spine as the boss revealed their cover. Supernaturals for sale. It was just a story, not that they were really selling them, but that didn't mean there weren't others who had been sold. The government had its secrets. This ragtag team was only one of them. With little love of supernaturals, it wouldn't have surprised Kit if there truly was an underground slave market.

[i]"Come on ya louts. We gotta move."[/i]

Kit lowered his gaze, but the air around him, once seemingly calm on the copter, remained cold and dark. He moved on with little fight, but the message he emanated remained clear: [i]hurt them and die.[/i]