Dane Whitman was donning his armor, taking a moment with the left gauntlet to make sure it was still in good working order. The brilliant orange glow of the light shield made for a good match with his armor, he thought, even if it was a little "trick or treat". 

As he continued suiting up, he reflected on the conversation with Blade, and by extension, with Director Rogers. Dane respected Cap, Blade, as well, but he had his reservations. Sure, Castle Garret wouldn't exactly fall apart without him, but he'd come to think of the castle and England as his home, and since it was the last place he'd seen his uncle alive, he had some admittedly irrational attachment to the place.

He sheathed the sword on his left for the right-handed draw, put on the red cape and finally settled into the helm. Looking himself in the mirror, Dane hesitated at the striking resemblance to his uncle. He muttered to himself, "Well, knowing who all is on the team, here's hoping none of them try to kill me... Show time."

He marched out of the castle, where a winged horse awaited him. Mounting the animal, it quickly took off with a few flaps of it's powerful wings, carrying him into the sky and towards Brighton...

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The horse neighed out loud as they came in for a landing, starting at a trot once on the ground before coming to a stop. He gave a look around at the group (those who'd stepped off the quinjet, anyway). He was unimpressed by the apparent children, but at least nobody was trying to jump him, yet. The helm hid his raised eyebrow at Blade, one of the kids at the Day-Walkers' feet. "Playing nice, my friend?"

Dane dismounted, and walked towards Torch, his armor clanking slightly as he moved- it looked heavy, but he moved as if it weighed nothing. The wind made his red cape billow, and he stopped just in front of Torch. "You would be Torch, than? Dane Whitman-" He offered his right hand, "-The new Black Knight."