(Verando's POV) 

The lycan male stands outside the government building, lighting a cigarette and putting it to his lips; he takes a long drag and sighs in relief. Watching this woman use her healing kiss on me wasn't quite what he wanted to experience after everything that had occurred. 

He was feeling particularly protective, which was making him quite irritable. All this stress wasn't doing well for a habit that had only been a minor vice in his youth; it was now turning into a full-blown addiction. 

While the perks of the vice were evident with the nicotine reward, the more subtle relief it provided was the seclusion from prying eyes, as smoking wasn't common during this era.  Escaping to do such a vile act gave him small moments of peace, a minute to think and indulge in one bad thing; it seemed he was incapable of being wholly good. 

Wrapping one arm around himself as he held the cigarette close to his lips, the wind chill was quite intense, biting through his thick knit sweater and coat, despite the warmth his lycan side provided. Wrapping the scarf tighter around his neck, he leans back against the sizeable concrete pole and shuts his eyes to curse the cold. 

"Oden, help me." He murmurs with a sigh, tilting his head back to try to relieve the pounding headache induced by stress and fatigue. 

Why did he make that promise? 

It was true; he'd do anything I asked, but was he willing to pass on an opportunity if it presented itself? Asking the gods for help seemed cowardly, but at least, out here, he could do it in privacy. Opportunities would only come if he sought them out; it would be up to him to avoid temptation. 

The pale-haired man appears, shivering in the cold. "Are you seriously out here smoking? It's like 10 degrees."

Verando sighs, doing everything in his power not to lash out. His hopes for a second to think dashed, he contemplated just ignoring the man, yet his posture assured him that he was out here to judge, not just chat. 

"I've had a long day, an even longer night, and a dreadful morning. So, yes, I'm out here smoking. It's what adults do." 

Under normal circumstances, entertaining Legardo would have been a priority, but with Tonic's betrayal, he was at the end of his rope with his tolerance of his progeny. The side of himself that had convinced him that war was better than parenting murmured sweet nothings in the background of his subconscious—encouraging the hunt, pleading with him to run.

He was outside; it would be so simple to disappear. 

I would surely forgive him. "Have you come to bitch some more because, if you are, the complaints department is closed." He takes another drag, sweet relief. 

Maybe that would chase him off?

Legardo raises an eyebrow only to crack a smile. "That's more like the father I had expected. So you've decided to stop pretending to be this nice, thoughtful guy? Good to see you're still a complete asshole."

"Sorry to disappoint; rumors are true."

 Holding out his hand, Verando begrudgingly deposits a cigarette in it and hands over the lighter.

 "Cigarettes are bad for you. Have you ever even smoked?"

Legardo lights it and takes a slight pull, coughing and sputtering as Verando rolls his eyes at him. "Once." He confesses, grimacing, tossing the cancer stick on the ground, and snuffing it out.

"I just wanted you to act as I remembered you being described; sometimes, I forget that we don't know each other all that well. It's easier to forgive you when you aren't putting on this farce that you're a decent guy. What angers me the most is that I don't even think you're trying to fool everyone... I think you're just happy, and I hate you for it."

"So we're back to bitching?" Verando grumbles. "Legardo, you must get over this or at least stop coming to me with it; it's truly up to you. I'm not trying to be your father; you don't need a father. You've got lovely kids, you had a decent marriage until you fucked it up. Take it from someone who has been angry their entire life; it gets old. 

Some things are out of our control; the only thing you can control is how you respond to it."

 How many more times must he go through this?

 How many more times did he have to tell this man that blaming him for a sub-par childhood was the least of his worries? 

"You're better off that I didn't have a hand in your raising. Didn't seem to help Tonic much."

Verando drops the butt in the ashtray and runs a hand through his hair, rubbing his hands together as if that might disperse the lingering smell of cigarettes. He crosses his arms over his chest, and Legardo regards him quietly. 

With a gentle sigh, the white haired man finally shrugs, "To tell you the truth, I actually think Tonic was very lucky. You might be a complete ass, but you did free our people. Mum says there was a draft; I like to forget that you didn't ask to be taken away. Sometimes, that's easier than accepting that you might have liked to have been around." 

Verando answers with calculated silence; there is no arguing with the insane. 

"I'm sorry about Nic and your home." 

The gray-haired male shrugs, shuffling some of the snow with the toe of his boot. The fresh flakes rested on the strands of his tangled hair. "This sort of thing happens when you do what's necessary. The right thing is often difficult; that's how you know it's right." 

Pursing his lips, Legardo takes in the view of the snowy city. "Would you have stayed? If you could have?" 

A righteous man might have lied to spare his child the truth.

"No," Verando admits. "I was in too deep with Kato when Rhea fell pregnant. Her father was a doctor, and she was selling me drugs out of his cabinet. Not that she needed it, but I sent your mother money when I could. I knew she could take care of you, that her father would keep you fed. 

However, I had to follow through on the work I had signed up for. My occupation did not allow me to have a family, Gardo. Your mother understood that when we were together, I think she agreed that anything you went through as a lad was better than knowing I was whoring myself out to Nobles under the guise of being their bodyguard. We were all trying to survive, and then the draft hit." 

Thinking back on that time was difficult and uncomfortable. 

Verando had spent so much time trying to get back at his father, running from his past; when the 'draft' came around and the lycans were rounded up, it was too late to think of what could have been. 

"I was collected in the first wave, but I helped your mother get you out; that's all that mattered to me. In the end, they all banded together. Rhea, Adena, and Marisol don't get nearly enough credit for getting you out, for the life you were able to lead, and for the escape from what my father wanted to do to you.

I'm grateful you didn't have to go through what I did. If my father had gotten hold of you, I don't think he would have let you live, and if you had, he would have tortured you to turn you into the vessel of what I now harbor. Ultimately, it was best for you to stay far away from my side of the family, including me."

"Why didn't you ever tell me this?" Legardo questions, hurt. "Maybe I could have... I don't know, forgive you? I could have tried to understand."

Scoffing, Verando gestures to their surroundings. "Legardo, I'm in the damned future, for Christ's sake. I didn't think I'd ever see you again; that was a distinct possibility in our time. In the midst of all that, I'd been trying to break free from slavery, form an army, conquer a nation, while finding out I'm desperately in love with a man, after I've been fornicating with women my entire life.

That's been a real trip..." Pinching the bridge of his nose, Verando exhales roughly, "It's not been 'easy' on my side either. I've not been frolicking in wealth and prosperity; there was nothing for you to gain from knowing me."

"I suppose I can understand that. Mum's been angry, she's been sad... What she's said about you changes depending on how she's felt over the last four hundred years. When she thought you were dead, that was a dark time, beyond rumors that you were having an affair with the King of Romania. It was unspoken, but you were always with him, so... naturally... anyways, I suppose that leaves my final question: are you going to kill Tonic?" Legardo asks, keeping his voice even. 

Gritting his teeth, Verando tightens his crossed arms, flexing in restraint. 

"I'm not sure. I think I should. See, it could be worse; you could be Tonic. Such a goddamn waste..." He resists the urge to punch the wall, his fists tightly balled. "All the training, effort, for what? He throws it all away and turns on us anyway. War does shitty things to good people, Legardo. Your brother didn't deserve to be put through what we endured on the battlefield. I feel like this is all he understands now: battle tactics and the pursuit of revenge. 

Your brother was lost to the sickness of war a very long time ago, and I don't think he ever left those demons behind. Sometimes, putting him down feels like the kindest option." 

Ending up with me, his soul mate, was worth the suffering. 

"I'll leave it up to Nic; Nic is the one he shot. It seems only fair." Glancing at him from the corner of his eye, he arches a brow. "Are you done questioning my existence? Can I ask if you're going to apologize to Tonya?"

Legardo flinches, crossing his arms firmly over his chest and almost mirroring the frustrated expression. "Why should I? Watching her mentally suck your dick has been disgusting. Fuck her."

If he rolled his eyes any harder, he might fall over. This child was undoubtedly his.

"Oh, for the love, Legardo, she wants you. Who do you think you look like? It ain't your mum, that's for sure. It's just a ploy. When was the last time you worked on any of... this?" He pats the man's less-than-washboard stomach, and Legardo jerks his coat closed with a distasteful expression.

While Legardo certainly wasn't overweight by any means, he was much less fit than the older version of himself. "Trust me, you come from a line of capable men. Stop lying to her and fix this-" He gestures to most of the man, "And you'll be fine."

"Fix what? The entirety of my being?" Legardo points out in frustration. 

Verando shrugs, holding his hands up as if the answer was obvious. "Just the.. middle bits?"

"You're unbelievable. I'm not sure how you get women to chase you, and if anyone knew the real you, they would run for the hills! Mum has been alone all this time as if you're some lost love, and I just don't get it! You're absolutely horrendous, you know that, right?" He mimics the eye roll so well that it makes Verando smirk the slightest bit. 

"Also, in this time, we love people for what's on the inside."

With a chuckle, Verando lights another cigarette before he puts his arm around the resentful spawn.

 "Well, let me include you in the secrets of my bounty. For one, I'm with a man because women are too bloody smart; they see through every ruse. They're also vengeful little things." Holding up one of the fingers from the hand resting on his son's shoulder, he takes a drag of his cigarette in the other hand.

 "Two, become in shape instead of 'a shape' and your sex appeal will skyrocket. Care how you look, and it might muddy the water on that shit personality of yours. Three, find someone who can handle you because you sure as shit can't handle yourself. 

When you're done pouting, you can have her back whenever you want. If you don't want to work on yourself, work on her. Help her see that you actually care for her, if you do. If it's because you think she belongs to you, might as well walk away now because she's too bright for that." 

 While Reid was his subordinate and ever-obedient, Tonic had always been a wild card. 

Tonic was kind and gentle but flaky; pushing him resulted in failure, and he had not been built for the world he was born into. Seeing the smirk on the pale-haired man's face, it was hard not to wish that Legardo had been the son who fell victim to the draft. 

Tonic's best life would have been spent with his mother, not on the warpath, whereas Legardo was a spitting image of himself almost to a fault. Legardo might have become a worthy successor if he had had access to him soon enough. 

Yet, he had made a life for himself; it was unfair to wish to take that from him. There was nothing to gain, as he'd said before. Verando had done too much to ensure that; it would appear that being a burden to one's father was genetic. 

How disappointed with his youthful self be, that his son hated him just as he'd hated his own father?

Patting him on the back, Verando squeezes his shoulder. "You did all right for yourself. Be proud of that. If you ever want to talk about women, I'd be happy to entertain it."

 While he might have a singular love, he had frequented the flavor of life, and courting women had been a pastime for him until I had come along. It seemed only fitting to pass on that knowledge. 

Smirking from the corner of his mouth, dimpling his cheek, Legardo shrugs him off and clears his throat in embarrassment, only to pause when he sees the light eyes of his father locked across the street. 

"What? Timmy fall down the well?" Legardo pauses and, in frustration, pinches the bridge of his nose at the reference. "Right, you don't know that reference... It's an insult, so you're welcome to be offended." 

At the lack of response, Legardo tilts his head, waving a hand in front of his face. Verando snatches the man's wrist, eyes boring into the figure across the busy intersection. 

Legardo follows his eyes and pauses. "Oh shit.. Red."

Verando takes a step forward, drawn to her and the need to seek sweet, delicious vengeance, while Legardo grabs the man firmly by the arm. 

"No. You promised Nic you wouldn't touch her, and you're not going to touch her. Randy, she wants you to go over there." 

Verando jerks his arm out of the other man's grasp with a low snarl, and Legardo fights to hold on. 

"Legardo, I'm going to warn you only one time to let me go before I break your damn arm. I'm not going to stand here while she watches us. I'm not going to let her stand so close to where Nic is taking residence, a place she had a hand in putting him." 

The snarl builds as his body heats up; the uncontrollable heat explodes off him and melts the shimmering flakes as they fall. Yanking him closer, Legardo growls back in return, his wolf triggered by the surge of energy.

 Desperation sets in; could he hold onto the more experienced man? 

How could he stop him?

"If you shift, you will be arrested. Do you understand? She wants you to act; you have no proof she burned your house down when, in fact, we know it was Tonic. You must let her go; you can't let her win." 

Verando pried himself out of his grasp once more, only to stand with statue-like stillness as he tried to get a handle on his emotions, his body shaking, heat rising to an almost unbearable temperature.

 It took every ounce of restraint in him to hold back the call to violence screaming in his subconscious. 

"Randy. Dad. I'm begging you. Don't. Do this." 

The wolf clawed painfully at his interworking; his bones felt like they were trying to fall apart inside him, and the wolf was trying desperately to get out. The barking, thrashing beast shoved against the mental restraint; it would take moments, and she would be dead by his hand. 

His vision began to tunnel, blocking out all else; the sounds of civilization around him turned to rabid barking, threatening to deafen him. A call to action, an instinct demanding to take control.

In an act of defiance, she twiddles the fingers on her three-fingered hand, and he pulls out his gun. Indeed, this is a compromise. In a panic, Legardo throws a clump of his jacket over the weapon, forcing it towards the ground. 

"Are you insane?! You can't shoot her! This is a hospital, a government hospital. You can not discharge a weapon here. I'm asking you, as your son, to let her go."

"If you have ever loved anyone in your life, you would know why that is disgusting to ask of me. I will not let her go."

"Gentlemen." A calm voice cuts through the harsh words; the dark-haired man nods in greeting to them both.

Verando scowls, guarding Legardo from the Siren with a swift arm motion. "What are you doing here, Tiberius? Your keeper is right there; I'm impressed you'd stray so far."

Placing a hand on his chest, he looks shocked. "Mr.Mercer, I'm surprised at this sudden aggression, and we were getting on so well before? I thought we'd come to an understanding?" 

How convenient for the man to show up just when Red had appeared; perhaps it was best if they didn't act on her presence just yet. 

How many others were here, waiting to act as soon as he attempted something? 

Going back inside might be the right call. As his eyes drift back to the woman across the street, he notes that she's no longer smiling, which intrigues him. 

Was she not expecting the man to be here? 

Glancing over his shoulder, Tiberius blows her a kiss before turning back to face the pair. "She looks angry."

"You must be blowing your cover; I'm sure your boss doesn't want you speaking to us."  Verando shoots back.

Tiberius chuckles, appearing stunned by the accusation. "Very perceptive, but no. I do think she finds our conversation very troubling. I think she was under the impression that we had not met, if I had to say, Mr.Mercer. What might interest you is that I'm standing directly in front of a sniper who was about to take a shot." 

Gesturing with his eyes, Verando tracks his gaze to an open window across the street. Only one window is open; a curtain shudders gently back and forth in the breeze. 

"Don't linger, my darling. Look back at me."

"Why would you want me to survive? What does it matter to you? If that's a trained marksman, I'm sure he could easily shoot around you." Verando demands, his voice lower. 

Shrugging, the siren outstretches his arms and encourages the pair back into the building. "It matters to me because I need you if we're going to make a bid to save this hellhole. Besides, I hate canceling concerts, and your death would do just that. 

I immensely enjoyed you and your delightful friend's reaction to my music." 

The comment catches him off guard; how would he know the effect the music had on them? If she had intended to shoot him, why hadn't she just done it? Maybe she was waiting for him to make a move, or perhaps it was the fact that he and Legardo were moving too much to get a clean shot. 

Legardo grimaces at the thought, leaning against the wall, pale-faced. 

"Your son is cute. Shall we take this inside?" 

With a nod, the group quickly enters the building. Verando glances over his shoulder and spies the last glimpse of fiery red hair as the sky blackens with the impending snowstorm. 

"This isn't over." He informed the Siren.

"Oh, I sure hope not." Tiberius muses, thoughtfully scanning the darkening sky through a window. "That wouldn't be any fun. But, as much as I enjoy thwarting plans, that's not why I'm here. I'm here to see Nicolas, check on him, make sure he's alright."

As reluctant as he is to entertain the creature, a promise had been made to me that he would share these aspects of his life and that he would stop keeping secrets. "I'm going to check you for weapons if you're going to go anywhere near him. One song-like utterance from that mouth of yours, and I'll cut out your damned tongue. Am I making myself clear?"

Tiberius almost shivers with delight. "Gods, you lycans are just fantastic..." He exhales dreamily. "I wouldn't have it any other way, Mr.Mercer. Please, search me, and don't be gentle." He lifts his hands with a wink as Verando starts at his shoulders, while Legardo looks as though he wants to be sick from the lewd nature of the Siren. 

Blowing him a kiss, Verando shakes his head at the raunchy creature.

"Sirens feed off sexual desire. This is, unfortunately, how he is created. He's a sex icon, like a succubus. He can't help that he's like this, foul as he is. There are worse people out there than Siren's. Don't look so uncomfortable." 

It's a small attempt to shed some light on a very poorly orchestrated creature. While he'd turned his back on his religion, it was quite a strange occurrence that it would find him in such a way once more. Tiberius waves off the grumpy lycan as he's searched, tracing his tongue over his upper lip in amusement. 

"Like you, Mr.Mercer." He teases, eyes glimmering with interest.

Verando straightens, loading his belt and pockets with the hidden knives retrieved from the being. "Like me." He agrees, his tone much more sinister than playful. "You'd do well to remember that, Tiberius."

"I shan't forget it, Mr.Mercer." He purrs back with a grin. "Shall we visit your much better half?"