Fenrir rushed after his pack mates, pulling his wolf-mask/helm into place as he moved. Hawkman had designed the costume personally, aiming to evoke the savagery and ferocity of Magnus's 'Wolf' form. The Thangarian had succeeded, the whole kit being quite intimidating. Any would be crook thinking about causing trouble would have second thoughts when seeing Fenrir now. Carter had told him that the breast plate, helm and gauntlets were made from Nth metal and should increase his strength and allow him to fly, but Magnus had yet to tap into that ability yet. His mentor theorised it would just take time, but Magnus was in no rush to unlock the secrets of the Nth metal. Truthfully he hated flying with a passion.

. . . Which made their trip to the docks all the more irksome for him. The packs new flying machine wasn't the smoothest of rides, and the fact that the designer, Cyber-Knight, had gotten herself killed by Computron hardly filled Magnus with confidence. The journey was thankfully brief, Magnus white-knuckling it the whole way. He was leaping from the craft before the yellow mutant had even swung for them, landing on the dock with smooth balance on the balls of his feet. He was about to leap to the defence of Ditto2 when Thunder beat him too it. 

Magnus watched the confrontation with interest, trying to match the newcomer up with any of the hero's Hawkman had forced him to learn off. The blue garbed interloper didn't really match any of the descriptions, but he seemed powerful and was apparently on their side. Blue's match with the mutant didn't last long, the two breaking apart after being struck by lightning, the newcomer landing no more than two feet in front of the Wolf-man.

[b]"Oh, come on. . . "[/b]

The feral meta ready's himself for the attack then, but something stays his hand, something that's been bothering him since the pack arrived on the scene. There was something familiar with the way the yellow woman was moving, some sense of distant kinship. Her smell was off too, the tangy bitterness of rage and aggression playing over something sweeter but equally primal. 

It was fear, he realised, she was afraid. Then it hit him. He had never met the yellow girl before, but he knew why he thought he had. He had been in her situation before, when he had first escaped Granny. Fenrir had been on his own in a world that was unfamiliar and suspicious of him, and he had lashed out in his terror. He knew deep in his heart that this strange looking woman was going through the same thing. She had probably never even seen this surface world before, and now she was here and being attacked. 

"Stop!" he roared at his pack. He wasn't sure they would listen, or if the newcomer in blue would take heed, but he had to try to calm the yellow girl before letting the violence go on, for his own conscience if nothing else. He began walking towards the Atlantean then, slow and easy so as not to spook her. He had her full attention now, but wasn't sure that was an entirely good thing as she watched him with dark alien eyes that were as inscrutable to him as the ocean depths. As he walked he doffed his mask and unbuckled his knife belt, trying to show he didn't mean any harm towards her. 

"Easy now." He stopped just in front of her, arms held wide at his side. The ball was in her court now, he just hoped she wouldn't hit him with it.