The cracking of bone, the chewing of meat, the slurping noise as he swallowed. It all added up to sound like a monster in his lair, devouring some poor innocent soul who had the misfortune to stumble upon the creature. Thankfully though the monster was making due with no more than a raw leg of beef. 

Fenrir was curled up in one of the corners of the base kitchen, enjoying his meal with the gusto that only an animal can. He made a soft growling noise as he chewed, his mind wandering as his body worked through the mechanics of eating. The others hadn't said much to him after the incident with Shrapnel, but he was certain that was because many of them were still in shock after the death of Cyber Knight and the murder of Aquaman rather than his loss of control. These things bother Fenrir very little though. He had barely known Cyber, and what he had learnt of her had disturbed the big metahuman. She had possessed an artificial smell to her, and the cold demeanour of his former captors, and it had set Fenrir's hackles up whenever he had been forced to spend time with her. If he was to be honest he was happy she was gone, and felt the pack benefitted from her death, even if they couldn't see it like that now. 

Fenrir hadn't even known Aquaman, so he couldn't even work up the emotional response to seem concerned about the former hero. Hawkman had told Fenrir that the Atlantean had once been a mighty warrior, though he had fallen on hard times as of late. This Fenrir could understand, after all the mighty always made enemies, and if a warrior didn't work to keep their edge they would live only long enough to regret it. Aquaman had lost his edge, and had paid the ultimate price for it. It was the way of nature, the wolfman understood this better than most. That was why he ate and slept now, to keep his strength up. Perhaps the rest of the pack couldn't smell it, but there was death in the air, waiting just around the corner for the young heroes. It was coming, and when it did Fenrir would be ready. He would protect his pack, even if he had to kill again to do it. 

Suddenly a shot ripped the air, the sound magnified a thousand fold to Fenrir's powerful hearing. Bursting to his feet the big wolfman bounded down the hallway, silent as a vengeful ghost. The heady scent of blood met his nostrils, that of Ditto and Booster Gold. The wolfman kept going while busy trying to identify the smell of whoever it was attacking them, but even with his senses it was proving difficult. 

He skidded to a halt at the side of Ditto2, screaming in pain at his arm wound. It looked like whoever had fired the round had managed to hit both Booster and Ditto2 with the one shot. Fenrir was confident he could survive a direct hit, but he needed to get the other two away, as lying where the where they made inviting targets. But where to go? The wolfman still hadn't zeroed in on the intruders scent. Taking several deep breaths through his nose he finally managed to filter the surrounding smells, and distinguish one that shouldn't be there, coming from the north corridor. . . but wait, there was another, from the south. And one more, eastwards. With a growing sense of disbelief Fenrir realised whoever was attacking had laid down dummy scents, to throw off his own sense's. He feral metahuman was at a loss at what to do, and didn't even know where to attack. 

"What do I do!" he growled angrily, as much to Ditto2 as to himself.