The ride to the bridge was mercifully brief, Fenrir having long since realised that he wasn't one made for flying. The feral meta leapt out of the transport before the craft had even landed, keen to be out of the metal death-trap, and took the scene in front of him in quickly. A sorcerer was on site, his smell revealing him to be Fate. Magnus experienced a twinge of guilt and embarrassment at that, memories of the battle against Deathstroke and his loss of control hurtling to the fore. No time for that now though, not while a foe stood before him. 

Ditto handed out orders, no more than a repeat of what Black Canary had already dictated. Regardless of what the den mother or the Cargitte wanted, Fenrir was going to do this his way. The Pack had failed him in the past, all save Gabe, and he would be damned if he was going to allow them a second chance. The demon girl was the first to strike, shooting forward to disrupt Cinderblocks sight. Useful. The Wolf urged him to make use of her distraction, so he obliged, sprinting forwards, vaulting cars and obstacles with the ease of an experienced athlete. 

He took a circular route, coming up behind the stony villain, silent as a predator in the undergrowth. Then, as Cinderblock was engaged with Shadowdancer and her mastiffs, Fenrir drew his knife and with a snarl pounced. His powerful legs rocketed him upwards, blade drawn back for the strike. He landed on the escapee's upper back, and drove his knife deep into were the stone-man's trapezius muscles should have been. Before the foe could retaliate Fenrir flipped back wards, leaving his knife lodged in Cinderblock's back. With any luck it would retard the golems movements, disabling his ability to fight back properly.