A flurry of emotion floods my conciousness, rapids of confusion and possession. It's a sharp pain deep in my chest, that feeling of separation, the ache of not knowing exactly where he was. "I didn't know he had an interview..." I mutter, letting my hands fall to my sides as I tilt my head, watching the man on the screen. 

Caspian punches young Randy in the arm, that audible thump makes my teeth grind and I ball my hands into fists. Why did he allow this? Why did he let Caspian pick on him so ruthlessly? "Why do you lie all the time?" He accuses, causing the man to flinch, rubbing his bicep. 

"That's not me!" He hisses through his teeth, shoving the Spanish man back. 

"Yet." Caspian sneers.

"Shut it! Both of you!"I can't get involved, this would form the man he becomes, I had to let it be. 

 Enraged I cast my hand, freezing them both to the ground by their feet. I needed to focus on this, not worry about the desire to protect this younger version of my soul mate.

 We're surrounded by whispers, the dull murmur of judgment circulates through the air much like smog. In neutral territory, even in my own time, people might question seeing someone use in public. Refusing to acknowledge the mistake, I keep my eyes locked on the pair before me. The hard flashback of the railway car causes a twinge in the side of my skull. Their screams, that I could have caused them all to die, they so easily blamed me for their peril anyways.

Professional, he sits much like one would in a war room, rigid, jaw tight, the button up clings to his chest in a way that carves out the definition of the well-defined shoulders yet collects the shadows in a manor that truly highlights the size of the man. It never ceased to impress me, while he was by no means the largest lycan, his presence alone was it's own blanket of intensity. Tall, lean in some aspects, the high cheek bones and perfectly set nose commanding every ounce of his regal breeding. 

I admire the tangles of silvery gray hair, lighter than his youthful self, it's unruly twists never ceased to give him the boyish charm that combated starkly against his piercing eyes. 

Pressed pants follow the long legs, coupled with suspenders that seem to have more use as a holster than a tool to keep his trousers up. They must have stripped him down, concerned about his potential threat, when the true danger lurked amoung them in plain sight. 

A small smile tugs at the corner of my mouth, hinting at amusement beneath the fear of the weaponry I assured myself they had prepared incase of retaliation. My wolf is quite pleased, they have no clue what lies under the surface. But I knew better than to believe a well placed bullet wouldn't mortally wound him. Another flash, this time Marisol and her horrific death.

"Are you ok?" Caspian's voice hits the side of my head like a sledge hammer, echoing against the dull ache of remembering everything so vividly with this 'enhanced' mind.

Perhaps they did have a valid reason to fear us, they had not lived as we had, they were not prepared to deal with the likes of us. Humans could be so fickle, even in my mortality, it paled in comparison to this intensity- dare I say obsession. If our numbers increased once more, the ripple effect could be vast and crushing.

"Thank you for coming today, Mr. Mercer. You're a difficult man to get on screen, I'm surprised to see you so soon without your.. husband?" The hesitation causes me to flinch. As if they were still getting used to the idea, the thought of him being married to a man was uncomfortable. We had only just left tabloids when it came to both of our preferences, more so his than mine. It would seem short, red haired ethnicities were not nearly as appealing in this time line either. 

I couldn't blame them for being curious of him. His old fashion accent, his kindness towards lesser men and startling reputation for being murderous and short tempered, it made sense that he had become the focus. He made for a more interesting story.

"I'm sure he's got his own business to attend to." Verando's voice is smooth, hinting at annoyance. If I were watching, he wanted me to know that he was displeased with my absence. A thrill runs down my spine, I inhale instinctively, ignoring Caspian's lingering eyes. He knew who the message was for, perhaps even hated me for it. I was just looking forward to reaping the benefits.

"How's married life treating you?" The host asks, crossing one leg over the other, regarding the warlord curiously. A small bead of sweat slips down his neck and I can almost sense his hammering pulse. 

"That's a creepy smile." Randy's voice catches me off guard, for a moment, it was almost like my version was here next to me. 

"That man is terrified." It shouldn't amuse me so much, the darkness wells in my stomach, a sense of depraved pride in the response my husband illicits. It was a nice revenge for the back handed comment of his marriage to a man.

Randy frowns, mirroring the host's face. I rein myself in, I couldn't expect them to understand. I wasn't quite myself, spending to much time with the Siren's was the only reasoning I could see behind my lude behavior. "Are we the villains in this tale?" he nearly whispers. "He has a right to be.. look at me, at... him... not a man or a beast, a creation forced into this world by magic."

Verando commands the space, unimpressed with sharing anything about his social life. I didn't view him that way, I drank him in, a specimen that thrived in the unfortunate hand he'd been dealt. Not in the way one might hope, but a true survivor none the less. "We are whatever we have to be." I respond lowly. "We are all villains in someone's tale."

"That's not why I'm here. We can skip social decorum, I truly have no interest in the media aspect of this interview. It was merely the best platform to say what I wanted to say, you just have the benefit of being quite popular."

Swallowing, the man settles back into his chair. "Ah. Yes. I was told you were quite direct." The host allows, attempting to maintain control. "Normally the, uh, Host... guides the conversation, Mr.Mercer."

Verando's stillness causes the man to shift uncomfortably, I couldn't blame him under the weight of the light eyes. "I merely don't like to waste my time." Cocking one eyebrow, he concludes with a small exhale before continuing.

"Your time has been corrupted, we don't necessarily know how many others have come but the truth is that this happened way before 'us'. It is not something that mere mortals are capable of, beings must have great power to do what we do and have done. While I don't say that to frighten you, I feel it is important to give the reality of this situation. My granddaughter came to gather my husband and me because your time was dying."

Silence falls over the gathering crowd as they watch the television through the glass of the shop window. This is the beginning of our 'new' tour, encouraging those in the depths to step out of the shadows and side with us over those who wish to abolish anything different. 

"And you saved it?" The host's voice attempts to be firm, the world waits on baited breath. 

Considering this, the gray-haired man exhales slowly. "Fate is cruel, some believe it can't be changed.. I suppose it depends on what side you subscribe to. Saved or delayed. That is why I'm here now, as a warning and a declaration, a truce of sorts perhaps."

Raising a brow, the man leans slightly forward. "A truce? So it's true then that magic users and creatures wish to go to war with humanity?"

"If necessary. I'm getting old, I don't want to keep fighting but I will if I must." The threat is real, looming in his voice as his eyes lock on the face of the startled human. It wasn't his fault he was intimidating, much as he was trying to be cool and collected. The intensity of the low, smooth voice commanded attention and respect. It was a normal response, a prey's reaction to the predator. Humanity was created to fear this creature, one of Man's true natural predators.

"There are those who wish to abolish magic users, they think that banning them will help humans to stay safe. The reality of this is that magic has an interesting way of.. evolving. You need only to look back into the history books to see what happened to those who tried to change fate, to alter nature. Getting rid of those who wish to stand with you allows for those who wish to stand against you to widen the gap of power. Right now, we are on the cusp of this very thing.

The man who created Artifice is a lycan from the past."

I can practically feel Lotta's rage for revealing confidential information. The crowd around us erupts into horrified gasps and murmurs. 

The Host touches his ear, murmuring quietly into a microphone on his shoulder. "That seems highly unlikely."

"Believe what you like, there can only be a war if both sides agree to fight and we outnumber them vastly if we side together. The creators of Artifice are using enhanced beings to keep the public afraid and encourage lesser magical creatures to partake in the enhancements. If we don't stop fighting each other and focus on the true issue, there won't be enough of us to make a difference."

The screen flickers, as if someone were tampering with the footage, attempting to cut it. Artifice chimes over top of the audio, apologizing for the radical thinking and assuring us that it would attempt to correct the feed. 

"Let him speak!" One of the crowd shouts. 

"Mr.Mercer, you are proposing that the very system that has run our nation for nearly a century is corrupt? To those watching, I am well aware of the whispers in the underground about the malfunctions associated with Artifice and the push to switch to Gospel... some of our cities have even entirely switched to Gospel. But to suggest the creators of gospel are behind the Elementals? We had already debunked that the majority of elemental crime was squarely behind Gabriel, who's been deemed deceased." The host touches his ear, he's being pushed to speak, pushed to retaliate.

Glancing at the icon at the edge of screen, I note the channel is Aritfice owned. 

"Return to your homes and jobs." The loud speaker projects onto the street, a garbled mess from some Gospel supported stores. "Return to your homes and jobs immediately."

Verando turns his attention to the camera, dismissing the host all together, "There does not have to be a war. This is a free society, or at least it was. Vote, campaign, blood hell protest if you must, but do not let them divide us so that they can conquer what little remains. Look to your left, to your right, your brothers, your friends, your neighbors and even complete strangers; they do not deserve to live secondary for something they might'n ever do. 

We are all capable of cruelty, it is not unique to beings that have abilities, the segregation does not end with magical beings. Do not turn a blind eye because it is not yet your turn to feel the weight of oppression. 

There will be a peace rally tonight at the colloseium. I and others like me-"

"A lycan." The host points out, divided as he examines the man's expression. 

"Yes. A lycan. A human, mutilated by magic to become what I am, and still willing to defend all magical beings." Verando corrects firmly before standing with a roll of his shoulders. "I believe those men are here for me."

My heart skips a beat. 

The officers enter the screen as the camera threatens to pan away yet the host raises his hand to prevent them from avoiding the confrontation. 

"Verando Mercer, you are under arrest for treason and conspiracy." While the one reads him his rights, the other seems reluctant to carry out the sentence. 

Verando offers him his wrists, reluctantly his cuffs him. 

"I've seen no acts of treason." The man's voice is short, gesturing to the camera to come closer. "What right do you have to arrest this man during a prompted interview?"

"Mind your own business and get this camera out of my face." The older police man growls, the camera cuts off and the screen goes dark, then flashes a few times, before a typed smile appears on the screen. 

"Sorry for the delay, thank you for your patience! The aggressor has been apprehended. Please return to your homes and jobs immediately." Artifice's cheerful voice plays on repeat, I take a step back, searching the screen for my husband to reappear. 

Randy and Caspian stare at me, wide eyed. "Why did I do that?" Randy demands. 

The question causes me to blink back into reality, why did he do that? Why would he want to go to jail? Unless he felt the action was necessary? My pondering is interrupted as a brick sails through the air, crashing through the window and smashing the tv. All around us, the crowd is in an uproar. I unfreeze the men's feet, Randy clutches me to his side but I push him back to throw up an ice barrier and block the next brick, sending it crashing to the ground. 

"We need to get to him." I bring my watch up to my lips, "Lotta, can you hear me?"

"Your husband is a dead man." She snarls. "Where the hell are you?"

"Sending you my location. Come get us."

"Damn it Nic..." Her voice cracks, I know her fear creeps in just like mine does in times like these. With Caspian mixed into the system, with Verando apprehended, we could only trust he was exactly where he wanted to be or he wouldn't have gone quietly. He wanted us to see him get arrested, he wanted to be taken into custody, to prove a point I could only assume? Or get closer ot his target. 

Tracing my eyes over the younger version of my warlord, I attempt to envision what's going on in his mind. "He's fine, Lotta. Just get here as fast as you can, prepare the team, we're about to see what sort of spark this revolution has to offer."