“I see.” The Fireen stared into Dunnaman’s face, expecting to see some sign of fear or subterfuge there. Perhaps if he were a different type of person he might have been able to see it, maybe before he became the Fury he would have been able to see through the lie. Still, that was not to mean he was happy with the furred-man’s words.

“Then we will fix it, you will show us how. I will have what I want and you will be allowed to live.” Fury bartered, though he was even unsure if he himself lied. There was certainly no sign of it on his face, there was seldom more than cold anger on his face, except for those unlucky enough to see it burn hot. Dunnaman’s luck hadn’t ran out yet. Would Fury kill him anyway? It was difficult to say, his motives were usually obscure save for one overriding goal. But there was no need to dwell on that now.

“Or will you defy me?” The threat was as audible as the pressure that built around the two as Fury’s strength exuded from his form, in equal measure with that draining force that was somehow contained within his paradoxical body. As the tension mounted, the area became less and less pleasant to be in, it was like choking in a hostile environment. And Fury hadn’t even got [i]really angry[/i] yet.