Shanon took Wolfe’s explanation to be a satisfactory one and after he introduced each of the others in turn Shanon would then repeat their names with “friend” afterwards and committed it to memory. The snake of her tongue had withdrawn back into her mouth as some way of showing she now longer found them to be of any danger. She could still smell blood though and it seemed that the humans had taken some serious injuries to their arms.

“Friends hurt? I carry friends to safe.” Drawing herself up to her full height on two legs Shanon then flexed her muscles with a grin. “I stronger than Human car.”

When the small ball of light then appeared just beyond her nose Shanon took a moment or two to process what she was seeing with a few blinks. It looked to her like a floating bulb thing the Agents had at their place.

“I fine, need thread to sew.” Shanon was forced to spin in order to follow Daynas movements. “I not beast; Monster. I no bleed like Humans or other Monsters.”

Sitting down Shanon appeared to ponder something for a moment that made her tail flick softly side to side and her eyes rove around.

“I looking for other friend Darcy.” She stated. “She not in bad place, not here I think. Have friends seen Darcy?”

Twain was intrigued.

“Well, they were likely trying to tempt the rules. A lot of facts about magic is sort of kept kept under wraps and hidden away from the general population. You know, the existance of magic at all, then one wonders about necromancy, and about which types of creatures actually exist and which ones are just stories. It’s difficult to get the whole picture, but, TRIDENT comes closest, I think. And this other-world-breaching… Other worlds, planes, alternate realities… Until this happened that has been strictly speculation.”

He shook his head, agreeing with Charles. “Yeah, too bad that dragon rushed us out of here. Glad it didn’t stick around…” He paused, TRIDENT didn’t know where it had gone either.

He tapped the circle that XIII had drawn. “What is… Ah… That representing?”

XIII would remember…

A voice, dark and crisp. “Don’t let them touch you. And don’t touch the first two circles. You will die. If you get to the middle one… I can’t say for sure, really...” There was a pause. There was no panic in this voice despite the desperate and chaotic sounds in the background. “... It’s your only chance, I think.” XIII wouldn’t be able to remember the eyes, but maybe the pale thin lipped smile… “I’ll see you on the other side.”

Meanwhile, Rozalind stood near Dimitri watching the battle of the snabbits unfold. Things were calming now. Rozalind looked through the scope of her long firearm to get a closer look. She did not comment.

~~

“A sewing needle and thread?” Dzel stood as the others dressed their various wounds. “I think Twain has some.” She had seen Twain give stitches more than once. Dzel walked toward Shannon. “Where are you… Torn? Can you walk back with us?”

“And no… We have not met Dana yet, but, that doesn’t mean she isn’t here somewhere.” Her dark eyes scanned the snowy landscape around them. "Icarus is on patrol. If there is anyone else still here, he will find them."

"Well it wouldn't really be tempting the rules if she only died once here." XIII looked at Charles. "With all this talk about multiple worlds it wouldn't be impossible that this ritual happened hundreds of times. But what if unlike how every other world is slightly or largely different, the woman was exactly the same each time?"

As Twain made his way over, a memory came to XIII so forcefully that it made him stagger backwards. He waved off any forms of help as he shook his head to clear it. Immediately, he rushed towards the paper and flipped it over, writing what he had heard down before he could forget it. Once he was done, he looked to both Charles and Twain. "Sorry about that. It seems that I may have remembered something from that night. I needed to write down what I could remember." He flipped over the paper to show the picture of the altar and the three circles.

"To answer your question, Twain. this is representing a third circle to the ritual. Something was nagging at me about the fact that there was another."

When Vaughtar gripped Hirsch's arm he screamed.

"Ow! DAMN Goliath! Let go, your hands are like vice grips," he yelled as he struggled in the gargoyles iron grip. When he let go of Hirsch, the marine fell back on his butt, in the snow. He reached into his vest and pulled a tourniquet.
He slid his arm through the loop and used his teeth to pull it tight, stemming the blood flow to his wound. Hirsch then re-applied a new bandage and tape.

"Thanks though..." he said with a shrug to Vaughtar, "I should be fine until we RTB."

At the same time Wolfe was bandaging Natasha's shoulder, the wound looked foul, but she barely flinched, she is tough. Once finished he patted her good shoulder, not hard to cause any pain, but hard enough to be a bit of a playful jerk.

"Your good!" he said with a grin, "next time don't run near one of my grenades, they're bad for your health, like smoking!" he said looking to Hirsch who was already smoking a cigarette.

Hirsch handed Wolfe four penicillin, which he took with water, Hirsch just chewed his up.
"I had to take penicillin once when I was a kid, in lieu of a rabies shot, I got attacked by thirty seven squirrels," he said nonchalantly.

"What did you do to provoke them?" Wolfe asked.

*****16 years ago*****

A young barefoot Hirsch stood twenty yards away from a tree that had a family of squirrels living in it. He leveled his BB gun at the nearest one, placed his finger on the trigger and-

"JOESEPH! You leaves those animals alone! Come inside and do your homework!"

"Yes momma," he said turning around and slowly shuffled toward his back door. When his mother went back inside he turned, ran to the tree and fired a BB at the nearest squirrel. The BB hit the rodent in the side, startled, it ran up the tree.

Hirsch began to laugh with glee knowing he hit the squirrel, his laughter stopped when dozens of squirrels descended the tree and began bounding for him.

He screamed and threw the BB gun at the horde of tree rodents, and ran screaming with his arms in the air. The thing about 9 year olds is they don't run very fast. The squirrels caught up to him and began biting and scratching. Hirsch fell to the ground writhing in pain as thirty seven squirrels attacked. When a blast of white cold foam washed over the little boy, the squirrels ran off, Hirsch looked up to see his scowling mother holding a fire extinguisher.

"Heh.... Hey mom....um.... I love you?"

***** present day*****

Hirsch stared at Wolfe.

"I was... Minding my own business, I swear." he stammered.

"Somehow I don't believe you," Wolfe remarked.

After Wolfes hand was re- bandaged, he turned to Shanon.

"Hey don't worry bout it beautiful, I'll be right as rain once we get back to base, besides, my wound doesn't need stitching." he said indicating his hand. When he grabbed the snabbit, it's needle like fur had penetrated through Wolfes glove and into his hand.

"We shouldn't let our guard down though," remarked Wolfe.

"Vaughtar, could you do some ariel reconnaissance for us? Just need you to fly a pereimeter around the area, let us know if you spot anything."

Charles pondered XIII’s suggestion with a slight frown, then a tilt of the head followed with a nod.

“Sounds…plausible I suppose. Given the situation we’re in now I guess we have to throw out the rule book on what is and isn’t possible. I may have to read up a bit more on the Many Worlds Theory or whatever it’s called, actually maybe we could bring in the person who wrote it.” By this time Charles was speaking more to himself than anything. “I wonder if there’s a world where the theory is proven false.”

“Ayup there, steady on.” Charles moved next to XIII when he had staggered just in case he did topple over.

The information XIII then revealed sent the gears in Charles’ mind spin into overdrive and several pieces of the puzzle, much of which still lay hidden in a shroud of mystery, fell into place. Charles snatched the paper out of XIIIs hands and read it, then read it again just to make sure he had it memorised.

“So this was planned then.” A statement, not a question. “But why? Don’t touch the first two circles…well a bit late for that I think but I guess the condition of the circles saved you this case, probably the same for the others maybe.”

Charles felt certain that the ‘Other side’ referred to Earth, at least the version they were in and he called home. The fact that it was referred to as ‘Your only chance’ mad Charles assume that whoever had set all this up had been either running to or from something. An event? A Cataclysm in another world? Perhaps one of the otherworld had either forgotten to, or had chosen against telling TRIDENT something. But who was ‘Them’? Probably wasn’t the circles as the phrasing was completely off, although different worlds and linguistic rules could be accounted for.
The harder Charles thought the deeper his frown grew. He decided that this was going to be a hassle to deal with once they got back to HQ.

“XIII, when we get back would you mind another interview concerning this information?” Charles had already begun typing up the written information on the computer. “Actually I’d like to ask the others about this…person, I’m guessing someone else said this anyway, who you wrote about as well.”

“Quick question, when are we getting picked up again?”


“I torn in…” Shanon quickly examined herself to find that in addition to a number of gashes over her fore and back limbs the stitching around her torso had come undone slightly. “Some Places. I walk though. I strong Monster.”

Shanon stood back up on her hind legs with what she tried to be a reassuring grin, showing off a number of large teeth. As she pulled herself upward Shanons legs made a loud creaking sound like an old wooden floorboard. Shanon grimaced at the sound and even looked to be having a bit of trouble moving.

“Place too cold. Need moving.” Her breath was no longer making visible clouds in the air. “Is humans there friends?”

Shanon pointed with her nose over to the ruins or at the very least in their vague direction; the wind wasn’t being entirely cooperative day cold air made it almost painful for Shanon to breath.

“I carry hurt friends. Make no Squirrel beasts attack friends.” Shanon cackled as she reached towards Natasha and Hirsch.

Quite unfortunately Shanons grasp could be describe as anything but gente, with her claws wrapped around their wastes the pair would probably have the mental image of a small toddler with a lump of each hand. Needless to say, they were the clay. Although with the pair of them complaining Shanon would allow them anyone else who could fit, to instead ride on her back as she trotted through the snow.

“Friends best walk with Shanon, show they Shanon friends in case Darcy nearby.” Shanon explained. “Darcy think all Humans Agents and kill Agents. Humans very weak, go squish and split easy. No like Agents” She shook her head vigorously with a snarl. “Agents bad, but Human friends good.”

“What place this?” Shanon then asked. “Why snow? Why place too cold? Should be hot is summer”

Twain raised his eyebrows. "A third circle? But I don't sense... Anything..." He wilted like a flower. Twain had much knowledge of magic in this world... Yet... He realized, he had never touched another world. XII had crossed that threshold, perhaps because of that he could sense things that Twain could not. Maybe all the beings who came through the rift could.

"XII... The circle... Does it feel like something? Or is it like... A knowing?" He wanted to know the secret of the inner circle. " Yeah yeah blah blah Yeah. More interviews." Twain crossed his arms and glared down the alter. "More questions." he muttered. "More booze needed... Where the hell is that monk?"

"Were gonna get picked up... Ah... Whenever we call in for it. Zes has the radio. Right?"

"Yup." Zesiro was sitting on a rock, looking bored.

Rozalind strolled around the perimeter. "The part is returning, they seemed to have taken care of the... little creatures... I'm surprised we haven't found any more... Intelligent opposition. Wouldn't the cultists send someone out here? Considering how savvy you say they are, I'd be surprised if they were without resources, support, backup..." Her finger never left the trigger of her rifle.

~~~

"Yes, Let us go." Dzel agreed with Shannon, and began to walk up back toward the castle and the main party. Dzel knew that Shannon was likely from an entirely different world, and did the best she could to explain. "In this place it is cold in spring, summer, fall, and especially winter. This country is called Russia. It is on a planet called earth. We will tell you as much about it as you want."

~~~

When they returned Twain was fascinated by Shannon. He gleefully pulled out a needle and thread from one of his many pockets and began to repair the monster. When he was caught up to speed he said...

"No no no... We are not... Agents." She explained. "We are friends... we are members of an organization that is here to help. You can help us too. We are trying to figure out what happened to everyone here. What happened to Darcy even!" He was grinning from ear to ear. "There. How does that feel Shannon?" He tied a knot and cut the thread. Satisfied with his work.

Ariel stuck near Dzel the entire time, her eyes looking everywhere for more danger. She heard the new addition mention a friend missing. Ariel looked at her with sadness. She then overheard something about a third circle. She ran to the men and barked once to get their attention. She wanted to see what they had found.

Vice grips ? Oh... Direct contact with humans had been a very rare thing on Munimis, so the gargoyle was anything but used to throttling back his strength to a level that didn't hurt them.

"Sorry." Was there a bit of ruefulness in his voice ? It just didn't fit to the rest of the giant creature at all...

Vaughtar released a series of loud coughs when a whisp of smoke coming from Hirsch's cigarette managed to find its way into his lungs. This strange habit left him behind with a severe lack of understanding: Wasn't life already difficult enough for humans ? Why did they have to deliberately do things that were just bound to hurt them ? Or well... maybe things were so relaxed for them on this 'Earth' that they could afford it easily. He had to stop applying the standards he was used to on this world and its inhabitants, really.

The gargoyle was on the brink of asking about it when suddenly, the larger of the two marines, Hirsch, got virtually snatched away by this strange looking other creature that he had seen from the air. The action looked quite a bit like another pair of vice grips and the other woman he didn't know very well obviously was caught in it, too... What was its name ? Shanon ? The gargoyle wasn't sure since he had been busy with other things, but apparently Shanon had to be very strong despite the creepy noises emanating from its joints. It was an observation that shed light on a spontaneous idea, making him momentarily forget about the aerial recon requested.

"Hey, erm... Shanon ? Could you do that with me as well ?" If the monk's magic failed while the sun was still high above the horizon - and that could happen at any moment - Vaughtar would be not that much more than a sitting duck. Others had already diagnosed that likely the whole team combined would not nearly have enough physical strength to move him anywhere if it should become necessary. So maybe Shanon could do it, though it would possibly look like a poor mount buried beneath a grey-black mountain of muscle, wings and claws.

“Very good.” Shanon grinned happily at the lovely and neat stitching. “Twain Friend better sew than I.”

Charlese, standing on the other side of the room from the horrifying creature, frowned with confusion fairly certain he could hear it purring. Charles did not like this new arrival one bit mainly because how freakish it looked. At least Vaughtar had the decency to look semi-normal like a regular creature, Shanon on the other hand didn’t. Charles also knew that to think and feel such things was entirely illogical but it didn’t help all that much. However, given that she was able to carrying Vaughtar back with little trouble along with Wolfe and Natasha, to say that she was strong would be a bit of an understatement.

“So you all found…Shanon, over by the snow drift and were attacked by some smaller creatures. Correct?" Charles jotted down the details leaving those by Shanon to converse by themselves. “Maybe those creatures were why we haven’t seen any Cultists around? Shanon here must’ve been able to survive here until now, maybe there are even a few other other-worlders out in the snow or the nearby towns…”

Charles wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. On the one hand while he didn’t wish for harm upon any stranded Other Worlders the idea of them interacting with the general population didn’t exactly make him feel any better about their situation.

“Ariel, did you uh…smell any other out there?” He was attempting to be polite.

“Darcy Lost, or Shanon lost.” Shanon chewed a claw evidently in great thought. “There big storm, Darcy go find safe place but Darcy no come back.”

Shanon whimpered quietly and looked very worried, obviously distraught at the idea of Darcy being in trouble. As Shanon spoke she had cast numerous glances at the weapons the humans, or human looking, had on them. She knew all too well the damage they could do.

“Might find Agents or shadows! Friends must find Darcy, Darcy in not Russia; many trees and warm” Shanon attempt explain with vague, creaking gestures of where she had last seen her friend. “No smell in Bad Place, no smell here.”

Darcy was stitched up.

The once-moving bones were collected and packed nearly into forensic evidence baggies.

All of the party was assembled... Except for one. Who returned suddenly...

Icarus. The man was so quiet and subtle he was easy to forget. Which he counted on often in order to accomplish his work... He seemed to come from nowhere, his tattoos shifted across his skin so that he could blend with snow, shadow, or stone as it suited him for this mission. The shifting ink quickly resolved itself into the intricate artwork and became still: Seemingly normal tattoos. Once his person could be clearly seen and discerned he appeared as a short man, stout and muscular, his skin covered in artwork that could be seen on his bare arms that bulged out of his vest sleeves, the ink could be seen on his neck up his neck from under his scarf, and winding around his bald scalp, tendrils even wrapped around his ears and onto his cheeks, under his eyes like strange warpaint. Icarus never explained himself. He never spoke. Twain had said earlier 'he's Tibetan or something, the designated sneaky-guy and scout, he works best when you let him do his own thing, so, best to just let him wander off when he wants to. Don't worry he will make himself useful...'
and Twain had been right... Icarus didn't come alone. He dropped his companion on the ground before the assembled. The boy landed with a heavy 'thunk'. The body was barely alive, somewhat burned but mostly frostbitten. How Icarus had sneak in such an unwieldy parcel was a mystery.

It was clear that he was human. And what was left of his cloths could also be identified, dark robes.

Icarus was smiling, proud of his find. It was not a nice smile.

Twain whistled and knelt by the body. "Good boy, I'll just have to give you a biscuit now!"

Icarus seemed unmoved by the jab, besides, he had his 'biscuit'. He lived for the hunt... The thrill of the catch... The satisfaction of the kill...

Twain closed his eyes and touched the body. "Nearly dead. Not sure if I can save this one, but, in either case we can get some information... Chan fhiach cuirm gun a còmhradh..." and he gently touched the frostbitten man on the cheek.

The man heaved to life. His eyes wide and bloodshot-red, his lips blue and quivering he would have cried out but his cold lungs couldn't hold enough air for a proper scream. To witness such great effort expended only to fail miserably at the most basic of human function was... Gut wrenching.

His eye darted between the assembled. He seemed especially alarmed to behold the stranger looking folk like Shannon and Vaughtar... "M-M-More monsters! Oh gods... What have we done? M-M-Monsters everywhere..." The man shuddered. "Did he escape? Did we get him or stop him or close the damn thing before..." The man paused, realizing that he was speaking to strangers...

"You have made my stiff tongue move, but, I'm not dead yet, so, you can't make me tell the truth. You haven't got much time either... So get on with it. Ask me your questions... I think I only have enough time left for a few... Maybe three... Then let me go..." his blue lips cracked but did not bleed, his blood was too cold and thick to flow anymore. "Then it will be all over for me..." He said this last bit with a sigh of fondness rather than with fear.

Vaughtar tried not to chuckle, but the gargoyle couldn't help but find the situation somewhat hilarious. He almost buried Shanon beneath him, yet the strange other being proved to be the first one actually capable of carrying him with ease. He had to remember this in case Dimitri wouldn't be available to fill him up with refreshing magic during the day or something else really ugly happened.

He arrived at the castle ruins in time to give himself a headache. There were two really interesting things to look at at the same time, but since the gargoyle's mind refused to give each of his eyeballs its own direction to point at as if it was afraid of never getting them back into alignment once it was broken, he had to alternate between the two individuals in quick succession. He had never seen Icarus before, but given that noone seemed to mark him as an intruder, Vaughtar assumed that the stout man too was a member of TRIDENT.

Therefore, he finally was able to decide to turn the entirity of his attention to the... boy ?... who seemed to be chilled almost to death.
"Let's see if I can buy us a fourth question..."
Vaughtar sat down onto the cold stone floor next to the small human and laid on his back. Then he let one of his hands slowly crawl under the boy's back, trying not to rip apart the clothing with his claws. Needless to say that Vaughtar's belly was bristling with muscle and probably no less hard than the rock beneath him, but at least it was a lot warmer. Reason enough to lift the frostbitten man onto it and then use one of one's wings as a blanket. The gargoyle had to be careful though not to accidentally crush or choke the boy beneath it.

"I don't know what to ask yet. So someone else please begin, but make it quick. He feels like a small iceberg."

Charles tried hard not to grimace at the sight of the cultist being forced to life and became increasingly concerned when cracks began to form across the man’s face. He looked like he could shatter at any moment even with Vaughtar attempting to hold him together.
“Right, well then.” Charles clapped his hands together and rubbed them vigorously, trying to get some feeling back into his fingers. “Best we think of a view questions quickly then before he expires on us, or falls apart.”

He took a few steps closer and knelt beside Vaughtar to get a better look at the man. With pen and paper ready Charles thought of his first question.

“First off: what’s your name? You’ve got a name haven’t you, or should we just call you ‘Mister freeze-pop? Though I suppose that could get to be a bit of a mouthful in the break room.”

Charles had a friendly smile plastered on his face. Specifically, the one that street performers use to try and lure in tourists.

“Moving on. What were you saying just now? Were you here trying to capture someone or were you part of all this…” He gestured around the ruined room at large but pausing slightly over the scuffed circles they had been examining. “Either way we can help if you just tell us a few things.”

Dimitri turned from the grisly temporary resurrection. as far as he was concerned, the dead should stay dead. the more time he spent on this world the more he realized actually how much magical energy was coursing through its core so it was a wonder to him why the magical arts were not more prevalent within this world. he was feeling a bit fatigued at that moment. patching up all of his companions after the battle had proven quite taxing on his chi but they were all still standing if not a bit haggard looking.

"Hey Dimitri" Dayna's voice echoed with concern from right beside him. he hadn't even heard her sneak up on him
"I don't like how this energy feels one bit" she said just above a whisper as her blueish hue fluctuated a bit in response to her displeasure
"I know" he replied quietly "It's quite repulsive really, but as much as I hate to admit it, we're kind of stuck right now with a huge mess that we have no information on at this time, so as appalling as it might feel, I think it is necessary right now" his eyes narrowed curiously at the ball of light "Say Dayna...Are you aware that the space around you is permeating with little bits of frost?" he asked catching a small icicle as it fell from the area surrounding her. he watched with a smile as it quickly turned to water in his palm. the ball of light spun rather amusingly as she struggled to see what he was talking about " Know, I didn't realize it! it seems that I am becoming acclimated to this world's elemental currents" she responded happily as she concentrated on the cold environment once more. "Can you feel that Dimitri?"
he was puzzled "No I don't feel anything, but this frigid cold he responded as he looked about the area
"Oh how exciting. so this is what it feels like"
"What feels like what now?"
"Don't you understand flesh-ling?"
"Uhh clearly not" he replied rather bluntly with a shrug "but it seems you do"
"Yes I do!" she added excitedly as a small icicle formed in mid air. her colors darkened too a richer sapphire and the icicle slowly extended before falling to the ground.
"not quite yet huh? oh well, it's only a matter of time now"
Dimitri scratched his head and moved his foot back ever so slightly just as the pointed end of the icicle sank into the snow at his feet. then it look of realization washed over his face
"Did you just do that?"
"Yes" she replied with a smile in her voice
"Well then that deserves a toast" he chuckled then took a swig of his flask before returning his attention to the scene before them.

Natasha had chosen to hang back and stand guard outside as the others returned to Twain. She had been like that forever. Always plagued by the need to keep a close eye on her surroundings. Too many things could happen in the blink of an eye, more so when dealing with such a force that they were up against now. Her time with MOON had exposed her to all sorts of unseen things, unacknowledged by the general populous yet ever lingering.
She flexed all of her muscle, muscles that were rend and torn after their fight with those Snabbits. She was still rather impressed with the monk's healing capabilities and from what she could understand, he was barely using magic with his techniques which made his work even more impressive to the fiery red head.
"What a handy guy to have around" she commented aloud. "Although, I could see myself becoming reckless with such an accomplished healer nearby so maybe it's not a good thing. I wonder how he would hold up in an actual fight? If his energy is so powerful when healing, I can only imagine how devastating it could be in combat!"

“Mr. Freeze…” The man coughed a chuckle. He did his best Arnold Schwarzenegger impression “Call me Mis-ter-Frrreeze... Or... Mikkel...”

The man raised his finger and pointed it toward Charles, his finger was stiff and black. “You can’t help me. Don’t you dare lie to me, not even by accident.”

“I can help you… Normally a proper magician gives away nothing for free, but, I finally find myself with nothing to barter. Even my own soul is spoken for… Now, look at what I have earned… A warm place in hell...”

He traced circles in the air with his frostbitten hand.

“I’m tired of making deals anyway…”

“We were searching for a soul… Everything was going according to plan… The three circles were complete… It was when the blade cut into the vessel that something went wrong… Suddenly there was a light and heat and… It looked like a god dam dragon… It it… Chaos… F-fire... d-death… m-monsters… I was… thrown… I was crawling in the snow… So-c-old...

He closed his eyes.

“I tell you this only because I fear more what we may have wrought upon the world than than even my master… If he sends me to some hell, so be it… I’m so… So cold… I’ll welcome hellfire, I think.” His voice became soft and pitiful.

“If his old friends start dying, then you will know I’m right. Look for him. Don’t ask about him. They are going to pretend he never existed… He is the one who has always been there but never belonged here… They called him ‘Slay’… Ironic… they killed him. They killed him… Or… Perhaps they only thought that they did... Or perhaps they only told me that they did...” The man seemed to ponder this for some time. “They should have left this place alone. The price was paid, and it should have been accepted.”

“As I have accepted.” He closed his eyes.

Wolfe and Hirsch stood off away from the main group. They seemed to be talking to someone. Some poor half dead SOB. The day’s events had gotten much stranger since the attack of the snake rabbit creatures. Both Hirsch and Wolfe didn’t really have anything of merit to contribute to the group aside from tactical appraisal and a few well-placed rounds, still, it was good to be doing something worthwhile.
Wolfe yawned then shook his head. Hirsch noticed.
“You tired already?” He asked.
“Eh? Oh… nah, just not getting the sleep I need I guess..” Wolfe said with a shrug, “I’m fine though.”
“If you say so man, that white streak of hair you got wasn’t there before we ended up here.” Hirsch said flicking out his cigarette. “I may not be the smartest man in the world-“
“I’ll say.”
“FUCK you!” He yelled, “But… I know when a man has seen something completely fucked. And brother, you got that look.” Hirsch said.
“What? You’re crazy-“
“No, real talk homie, remember Chawkowski?” He asked.
Wolfe remembered. Lance Corporal Chawkowski was a marine that had been in the Corps about a year and half longer than both Wolfe and Hirsch. His squad had gotten ambushed in Afghanistan, their convoy had been traveling down a dirt road in between valleys. They had four trucks, the first truck ran over an IED, all occupants killed instantly. The enemy then fired rockets at the rear truck, all five rockets hit their mark, and the last truck also had all its occupants killed. The rest of the convoy was now boxed in, and they were taking machine gun fire from both flanks, from an elevated enemy. Before any air support could arrive about six Taliban fighters were able to get close enough to actually kill three marines in hand to hand combat. Chawkowski witnessed his whole squad killed. He was pinned to a rock wall from his truck. The driver had been shot in the head and his dead body jerked, causing the accelerator to be pressed. Before he was killed close air support had finally made it.
“Dude, when he came back that man had the thousand yard stare.” Hirsch said.
Wolfe didn’t answer.
“And the most fucked up thing about it all?” Hirsch asked hypothetically. “Is that YOU were in a similar situation almost a year later in Iraq, and you bounced back? You watched our brothers get torn down, and you were never phased, like you’re made of metal. Not Chawkowski, that guy is on several different anti-psycotics and anti-depressants. Not you though.”
“Your point?” Wolfe asked with a sigh.

“My point is bro…. what the fuck ever happened to you when that crystal exploded must’ve really fucked you up. I mean when I saw you after it went down the LT and that fucked cult, you looked 10 years older, your eyes seem almost dead, and you just look haagard man… like you spent a decade in actual hell.”
“I’m fine, Joe, really man, I’m fine.” He slapped Hirsch on the shoulder and walked away. Wolfe walked up and stood next to Natasha. He gave her a polite nod.
“So…Moon agent huh? I never really got a chance to see your dossier, but you your skill are impressive, where did you train?”

Shanon didn’t like the dying man; something about him put her on edge and want to tear him apart. But her friends were using him at the moment and none of them seemed to be in danger, but still Shanon kept a pair of eyes on the dying man as he was interrogated. She was certain he was going to die soon.

“FUCK you!” A shout from her right.

Shanon snapped herself to attention to the shout to see Wolfe and Hirsch talking to each other about something just out of her hearing. When their discussion was over She watched as Wolfe left Hirsch to speak with Natasha, but it was the worried look on Hirschs face that caught most of Shanons attention. Shanon watched them for a moment trying to gauge them and figure out how the pair of them were feeling.

After coming to a conclusion Shanon huffed and creaked when she stood up. She thanked Twain once more for sewing her tears close and shuffled over towards Hirsch.

“Is Wolfe friend and Hirsch friend okay?” She was frowning with worry. “Wolfe friend look like making Monster Thoughts.”

For a brief moment it appeared that the gargoyle had not noticed that the small man he had tried to save from the bitter cold had died. When Vaughtar did however, his eyes opened widely within a single moment. He launched the body into the air as if hit by an invisible, but large and very pointy needle in his giant back. A dead body lying on his breast! Everyone knew that things started rotting the moment they died! Well... yes... he had killed one or two snabbits my crushing them, but these things had lived at the moment of impact and most of their material had fallen off of him immediately. With disgust written on his face, Vaughtar rolled to the side while the body was in the air. Unfortunately though he hadn't taken into account all the things that lay in the path of his evasive maneuver before actually initiating it...

With a loud bang, the gargoyle slammed against the stone altar. Snow that still happened to hang over its edges fell off and given the loud noise, worries about the altar's base having been damaged were probably not too far away. Now the dead man returned to the ground, resuling in another barrage of cracking noises.

Vaughtar looked around: Shanon, Dimitri, the other operatives... What did they have to think now of him ? The thought occupied him so much that he didn't even notice the marines' ongoing quarrel. He was quite a bit afraid and there wasn't much of an effort he put into his voice in order to conceal this. "Oh dear... I've screwed up, haven't I ?"

The man died. Twain smiled and rubbed his hands together. "Alright now for some straight answers..." He closed his eyes and touched the Mikkel on the forehead and began to whistle cheerfully.

Twain stopped whistling abruptly, the last note turning flat and sour. His eyes snapped open. "What the fuck? Where did he go?!" Twain frowned and he looked at the frostbitten body before him as if Mikkel had just insulted him.

He began to pat down the body and rifling under the frost-stiffened fabric. "Ah-HAH!" he finally exclaimed. Tearing open the front of Mikkel's shirt. "Oh shit..."

In the center of the man's chest there was a nail driven through his skin. It wasn't the type of nail one would get at the hardware store, clean lines and mass produced, this nail was much more archaic: Raw iron, uneven edges, thick, forged by hand in an archaic fashion or in an archaic time.

The overlarge head of the nail there was a symbol engraved.

Around the shaft of the nail, as if something had been tied to the nail, were wisps of red... What remained of an unraveled string.

"Whelp... I think we should get out of here... As soon as possible..." Twain smiled again, thought, given the context it was not likely to be reassuring.

Hirsch stood there and let out a small chuckle to Shannon’s response. The creature didn’t understand humans that well, and no one really understood how and why marines acted the way they do toward each other, well, aside from other marines of course.
“Nah girl, we’re good, Wolfe is good, just a bit stressed out is all,” Hirsch said thoughtfully, he really did care for Wolfe, they might as well be blood brothers. Ever since boot camp something drew them together, their personalities couldn’t be more different, tastes, skills, opinions- All different, but for some reason, they always stuck together, as if they’ve known each other since they were kids; however it only feels that way. Either marine wouldn’t think twice to dive on a grenade for the other.
“I think he needs to get laid or something,” Hirsch said with a shrug.
“Don’t worry your pretty little self about it ok that’s just how people like Wolfe and myself talk to each other, it means we care.” Hirsch said as he patted one of Shannon’s massive arms, as If she were a giant dog.
Just then a large crash, followed by the sound of wet potatoes and twigs inside a burlap sack was dropped from twenty feet, an audible thump with a series of cracking noises. Hirsch turned in time to see Vaughter against the alter, adjacent to him a dead body crumpled in an awkward positions, as the gargoyle stared at the group, if a stone monster had facial expressions, Hirsch swore he thought it looked embarrassed.
Just after, Twain began touching and prodding the corpse, to Hirsch it reminded him of his childhood…poking roadkill with a stick.
He walked up closer.
“Ugh….dude… c’mon man, don’t play with that, you’ve no idea where it’s been….don’t want herpes or whatever do you?” Hirsch said to twain touching the corpse. Wolfe, who happened to hear the comment could be seen shaking his head with his hand to his face.

Charles had whimpered almost pitifully at the concerning noises from the alter. For a moment, Charles looked ready to explode with a mixture of anger and panic until he caught sight of Vaughtar looking very ashamed of himself. Charles took a very deep breath through gritted teeth in an attempt to calm himself.

“No, Vaughtar. It’s okay, it’s fine.” He said in a voice exactly like a parent trying not to yell at an unruly child. “Doesn’t look as if anything has been severely damaged anyway.”

Having joined Twain in examining the very recently deceased Charlese took note of the odd symbol with a quick sketch on his notepad. Looking very much like an inquisitive gargoyle himself Charles tapped the pen against his lips.

“Is it a rune of some kind? Or maybe a symbol, religious perhaps?” He was thinking aloud again, more to himself than anyone else. Charlese gently prodded the wisps of string. “Was he attached to something else? At least this gives us a vague idea as to the timing of the ritual if the dragon appeared soon after or during.”

A moment of thought, and a thoughtful ‘hm’ sound, Charles remembered the order Twain had given. With a nod of agreement Charles quickly dashed to grab his camera and take a few more photos of the corpse.

“Might I also suggest we bring the corpse with us?” Charles decided against telling them that he hadn’t packed any corpse bags, so anyone carrying it would have to so without. “Just so we can check over it again, post mortem and such, for more clues.”

“And can I get a hand taking down all the equipment and packing it away again? Transport doesn’t normally arrive all too quickly but still, I suppose it would be better to have everything ready to go before they arrived.”

Charles knew how to read between the lines. Even if he didn’t it wasn’t hard to see that whatever the symbol meant it had spooked Twain considerably.

Shanon meanwhile was more curious about the others and their odd appearances; the little ball of lighting that made icicles very much intrigued her. However, with movement going on about her Shanon was unsure about what she could actually do to help. So, she stayed seated where she was and shuffled from side to side trying to stop her muscles from seizing up completely.