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In the midst of the gunfire, curses and dying screams Zephyr remained silent, an expression of detached interest almost indiscernible on his ethereal features as he watched the fighting below. Isabel's entrance had been suitably impressive and the hessian had felt a moments amusement with the shocked silence which had followed before chaos had broken loose. He'd even experienced a certain satisfaction when the brunette speared the moronic Foot leader.

Those had been the only highlights of the rather one sided affair thus far though, he'd never really possessed any substantial form of blood lust and so his partners progress generated little more than detached idle interest. He'd wished a few people dead of course and dispatched quite a few he didn't for rather lucrative sums, however the nature of his abilities meant that he rarely needed to get close to a target to complete such assignments

It was difficult to generate any form of emotional investment in a death you often times didn't see or hear and in his early days he'd been contracted frequently enough that he'd become desensitized quite quickly. Isabel on the other hand well- Zephyr resisted the urge to sigh as he tracked her progress- she preferred a rather more hands on approach.

After demonstrating her resiliency to conventional munitions Isabel had swiftly swept through the front ranks of The Foot, her skeletal limbs allowing her to move far faster than she might otherwise have done and tear through any attempted resistance with consummate ease. The bonemancers pace was such that she'd quickly left the elementals field of vision and disappeared amongst the darkened stacks of shipping crates, her presence largely discernable by abruptly silences screams.

He couldn't fault the girls results, she'd done more or less as he'd instructed, and she seemed to enjoy her work, though whether that was advantageous was debatable. If there was one criticism he had of the shapely soubrette though it was her lack of efficiency; she was doing over the course of minutes now what the elemental felt she could have accomplished in seconds. In a word, she was being sloppy.

He'd read reports of the pharmaceutical fiasco over a year ago, seen more than a few images of the immense blockade of bone which had burst into existence and secured the besieged factory against any intrusion from police or SWAT. It was clear that Isabel had prodigious reserves of calcium to draw upon, yet she chose to limit herself to melee tactics despite displaying an affinity for ranged attacks.

Shaking such thoughts from his mind the elemental shifted his focus elsewhere, closing his eyes as he turned his attention outwards to his spatial awareness and began searching for any remnants Isabel might have missed. One of the advantages of the ethereal state was that, the greater the degree of completion, the more accurate his aerial perception became and thus he quickly located a small handful of figures huddled quietly behind a blind corner formed by the cargo containers, each of their weapons ready for any unfortunate soul who happened their field of fire.

With a resigned sigh Zephyr left his unofficial post and began to make his way towards the ill fated individuals with idle mutters about his companions lack of thoroughness echoing in the back of his thoughts. Incorporeality was a largely defensive state and it limited his other skills to no small degree, however until the echoes of gunfire finally died away he had no intention of becoming solid again anytime soon. He was still capable of dealing with such remnants, provided they didn't run; his speed was somewhat lacking in his current form, it would simply be more of a chore than it would otherwise.

Blacking out once generally suffices to encourage a certain amount of caution, however this tends to be somewhat outweighed by surprise of the act itself and curiosity arrives soon after to remove whatever residual prudence might remain. Blacking out twice on the other hand tends to rapidly dilute any prior shock factor and leave behind what might best be termed a circumspect form of basic common sense.

He was on the floor, again. Logically, it therefore stood to reason that an attempt to stand would likely only cause him to revert to his current position and thus any such course of action would be unwise. The uncomfortable sense of vertigo he was experiencing lent a great deal of credence to this theory as he was presently having difficulty telling left from right, and only knew up from down because of his aforementioned position.

Further evidence supporting the inadvisability of regaining his feet came from the fact that he was finding it rather difficult to breathe; his lungs seemed incapable of reaching anything close to capacity and the excess effort resulting from standing meant it was unlikely he would get the oxygen her required. This factor at least could be ameliorated to some degree by gathering a greater concentration of oxygen in the air around him which would essentially him to make greater use of the air with weaker breaths.

He did so.

Finally, and perhaps most importantly, a portion of his chest was currently incorporeal. In and of itself this was not a bad thing; he could maintain a small ethereal transformation for some time and with relatively little effort. Someone however, and he rather suspected he knew who, was attempting to the reverse the process. Again, this would not normally have been overly detrimental, if it weren't for the fact that the sylph in question was inadvertently forcing him to feel each of his broken or possibly cracked rib.

For those who are unaware damaged ribs are exceedingly painful, and although he was strong enough to curb the vast majority of waifs attempts, incorporeality was her natural talent. The end result was that he could feel his ribs slowly, and painfully, transitioning back into solidarity and could practically feel the flaws in the ethereal bone just before they became real and added to the searing sensation along his side.

Needless to say he was not particularly eager for the waif to continue her attempts. As soon as he managed to gain a bearing on her position through his spatial awareness he raised a leaden arm and clamped onto the sylphs wrist before opening an azure eye and glaring at his pale counterpart with what little ire he could summon in his condition and grinding out between coughs "You're not helping. Add to it. Don't take away."

Pain.

That was the primary sensation, even through the alcohol induced haze which clouded the preponderance of his thoughts Zephyr was acutely aware of a searing ache across his left side which spiked in intensity with each breath and movement he made. Being something of a quick learner the hessian swiftly put a good deal of effort into remaining as still as possible, making each inhale and exhale as shallow as he could whilst he struggled to gain his bearings.

Opening his eyes was the first mistake and drew a muted groan as intolerably bright light seemed to pierce through to the center of his skull before he could close his eyes again. Dimly he was aware of voices speaking a short distance away but these were only of secondary consideration compared to the constant clamors of agony which racked his body. He was fairly certain that whatever happened had involved his ribs to no small degree which meant he likely wouldn't be on his feet anytime soon without a new dose of painkillers, which was unlikely and so that left him with...

Taking shallow but prolonged breath Zephyr filled his lungs as close to capacity as he could in his current state, held for it for the barest of moments, and then brought it to bear on his injured side; quickly but carefully using his element to unravel the threads which held him together, loosening the bonds which kept him solid as he shifted blood, flesh and bone to simple air.

It was a trying technique but he'd had ample opportunity to practice ever since Ghost had taught him all those months ago, add to that he was only attempting partial incorporeality and thus dealt with none of the sensory deprivation aside from that of his ribs, and the process became significantly easier, allowing him to complete the transformation in mere seconds as his wounded side swiftly lost cohesion, and became transparent with the ache fading in a similar manner.

The pain from his side now little more than a rapidly fading memory Zephyr slowly eased his eyes open, squinting against the tortuous sun he chanced a glance towards the source of the voices then. Emboldened by the lack of pain, turned his head to fully to make out two indistinct figures standing a short distance away. The short of two figures was slim, and if the voice was any individuation, only vaguely past female prepubescent. The taller of the two was more easily identifiable despite his blurred vision; he had long ago come to recognize Ghosts unique composition with his aerial awareness, her body was almost as much air as it was flesh making her-

Recollection swept through the hessian as he again heard his name being called and saw the sylph wave an aged but familiar document past face before soaring out the window. She had started this entire thing, she'd stolen from him, fled the scene whilst taunting him and the resulting chase had done something to his ribs. His snow haired counterpart had a few things she needed to answer for.

Pushing himself somewhat unevenly to a sitting position Zephyr noted for the first time that he was only attired in a loose pair of draw string pants before he shakily pushed himself to his feet, his breath rattling in a faintly unnerving manner as he turned to face the two girls. "Ghost... I have a bone to pick with you."

"Do I get to go play with them now instead?"[/color]

'In a minute or so I still need to talk to them first, though I doubt they'll listen to reason, which of course is where you'll come in.' Rising to his feet Zephyr spent a moment to adjust his attire and brush away nonexistent dust before stepping out into open air, and then paused, levitating. He had an idea of how things would go —people were, for the most part, predictable and a large part of it would simply be theatrics— however in the unlikely event that things happened to go awry...

He turned back to Isabel, his gaze narrowing minutely as he considered her yet again. He had thus far attempted to avoid giving the girl any explicit instructions as she'd already demonstrated a clear unwillingness to follow them. Given what he had planned though that was no longer an option, he needed to supply her with at least a vague guideline to prevent her from jumping in at an inopportune moment.

'If everything goes as planned I'll call you down in about five or ten minutes, should things seem to get out of hand however...' he began, picking his words with care to avoid giving what sounded like a direct order. 'I'd like you to wait for a count of ten before jumping in, I doubt they'll be going anywhere and it should give you an element of surprise. Does that work?'

Gaining the brunettes assent Zephyr gave a brief nod before allowing himself to quickly drop away from the crane and sailed swiftly through the tenebrous air until he came to rest quietly atop a cargo container just beyond the firelight. He'd picked the position carefully, it was slightly off center but high enough that he still commanded a rather enviable view of the proceedings below and the individuals gathering on each side, thus affording him the luxury of simply being able to watch.

It's interesting really what the proper lighting and preparations can do for an areas ambience. What had been a desolate and somewhat off putting harbor was now a vivid industrial scene lit by flickering firelight with a susurration of impending violence. Barrel fires had been set up across the modest stretch of open space along the waterfront, illuminating a scant few individuals at both ends of the unofficial battlefield but also giving rise to numerous writhing shadows whose movements suggested that there were an untold number of others present for each side. Movement could occasionally be heard over the unceasing murmurs of the water and continues crackling fire. A footstep here, a cough there, and if one were to listen carefully, the dull click of a switchblade and metallic snap of different weapons being cocked.

All things considered it was a fairly ominous setting, under Zephyr's perceptions however much of it was lost; his awareness of the air and by extension, everything which displaced it, allowed him to easily identify and locate the forces forming at each end of the playing field. As he'd expected one side rather outnumbered the other, with the smaller force possessing a greater number of firearms which, although advantageous in the open space presented at the waterfront, would be somewhat limited in use if the fight as dragged into the makeshift labyrinth formed by the cargo crates.

As for when the fighting would start however, that was up to the team captains for, strange as it might seem there was an odd form of etiquette to these type of proceedings. Although both sides despised each other they each had a reputation, and part of maintaining a reputation meant abiding by frivolous and even idiotic formalities to prevent one's peers and rivals crying traitor and descending like a pack of wolves.

In this particular case both the Black Bullets and The Foot were waiting for a ranking member of sorts to arrive. It was unlikely the leader of each respective faction would show up, adherence to formalities would only go so far after all. More likely a low ranked or unfavorable lieutenant of some sort would have been assigned to oversee things and deal with the brief spurt of banter which occurred before the fight began in earnest and would then report back if they happened to survive, which was unlikely.

"Bring it faggots!"[/color]

The abrupt curse broke Zephyr from his musings and drew his attention to The Foots section of the harbour where the curse had originated and various members had begun to step into the firelight, it was swiftly followed by others of similar vein all directed towards the Black Bullets and signaled that at least one team captain was present and it likely wouldn't before the Bullets own impromptu leader showed.

It was time to move in, it would be a shame to miss the banter.

--

"Who the hell you think you are hombré? Comin' inta our territory an' interrupt my business..."[/color]

The leader of The Foot smiled, showing a glint of gold. "Hey, if you and the rest of your faggots actually did some business, there wouldn't be room for me and my homies, now would there?"[/color]

Zephyr stood in the shadows just above where the two were speaking between the two inactive cranes. Although the language was crude he'd seen this scenario play out a hundred times, both sides hated each other and wanted the other out utterly refusing to see any alternative. He wouldn't be able to stop that kind of hatred, at best he'd simply be able to reduce the number of casualties which occurred tonight, a partial slaughter instead of a total one. It wasn't much but then again the hessian didn't really care he had no stake in either side, he was simply doing what he'd been paid to do.

It was time for first impressions.

"Gentlemen! If I might have your attention." He called pitching his voice and stepping behind a container yet still immediately feeling himself coming under target from all directions including both gang leaders who'd both directed their firearms towards the sound of his words.

"Whoever the fucks there got to three afore he gets capped."[/color]

Sighing audibly at the sound of numerous other weapons being cocked in agreement Zephyr brought the second stage of his plan into play. "I simply wish to talk, however if a firefight is what you want..."

Isolating and collecting oxygen was one of the first tricks he'd learned with his gift, of all the elements which comprised everyday air it was perhaps the most versatile, especially when introduced to an open flame. The only key downside was that since that it constituted only approximately a third of air it could take some time to gather an amount sufficient for a sizeable fire ball. Fortuitously however Zephyr was somewhat proficient at multitasking and during his period of observation he'd been steadily accumulating oxygen.

When at last he introduced a thin tendril of oxygen from the cloud down to one of the flaming barrels the resulting explosion, if such it could be called, resulted in a sheet of fire which surrounded both gang leaders in a ring roughly nine feet in diameter, six feet tall and left each side momentarily stunned for the handful of seconds Zephyr needed. Inhaling deeply and collecting what little excess oxygen remained after the blast the hessian drew his element to him as strongly swiftly as he could, knowing what was most likely to come.

Then he stepped out and glanced down at his audience.

"As I said, I only want to talk, I have an offer which I believe would be agreeable to both of you. All I ask is five minutes of your time."

Both men were somewhat shaken by the abrupt display of pyrotechnics they'd just witnessed, that much was clear. However despite this the Bullet leader manager to regain some semblance of poise fairly quickly before subtly shifting his position to keep both the elemental and his counterpart in view. The Foot leader in comparison was simply silent, an expression of surprise rapidly being replaced by anger yet he said nothing which, after a handful of moments, Zephyr took for consent.

"My understanding is that this... event, is simply an excuse for each side to try and remove other. I see nothing wrong with this, however my current employer-"

"Shut the fuck up freaking faggot!"[/color]

Zephyr words choked off as the crack of a pistol echoed through the aphotic air, the bullet tearing relentlessly through the short distance to the elementals chest where it slipped deftly between his ribs and passed straight through his heart and out the other side. The short silence which followed seemed near deafening to the hessian and time was brought to a crawl as he as he lifted a hand to the wound. He knew there should be some form of pain, a type of searing heat to mark the bullets trail and the damage it should have done, yet all he could feel was a muted sense of vertigo and he couldn't tell if it was due to medication, simple shock or-

A second gunshot once again split the air over the harbor and Zephyr's head jerked backwards, all traces of thought gone in that instant as his body toppled back out of sight with all the grace of an unfettered puppet. A dull thud was barely audible as the mercenary's shoulders and skull struck the cold metal of the cargo container he'd been standing on leaving him to stare blankly at the sable night sky as his vision and other senses began to fade and he felt himself begin to drift as darkness closed in.

Then, he got better.

It wasn't pleasant, but then he'd never expected it to be; the ethereal state which Ghost had taught him some time ago had always felt intensely abnormal. He'd tried to alter the technique numerous times in an effort bypass the severe sensory deprivation but it had always it had always cost a degree of the ability's physical invulnerability which was its key strength.

In the end the best the elemental had been able to manage was a crude halfway point; a form which was neither entirely ethereal nor completely solid. It was a state which he could adopt relatively quickly without losing his attire and left him with dulled but still usable senses, the downside of this was that he was only resistant instead of invulnerable to physical assault. Perhaps the best explanation was that although his medial state possessed enough 'leeway' as it were, to allow the bullets to pass through without causing lethal damage, it left him with what could best be called a bruise.

In this particular instance Zephyr knew he could expect an acute case of heartburn along with the mother of all migraines and possibly a scarred lung the moment he became fully corporeal and as he pulled his drifting essence back to its feet the hessian was again thankful for the medicinal strength painkillers tucked away in his jacket; he'd likely need every last pill by the time this fiasco was over.

Until then however there was some unfinished business which needed to be dealt with; he had not enjoyed the unanticipated burst of mental abeyance the headshot had caused, it had come uncomfortably close to reality for his liking and had a rather marked affect on his mood.

Clearly the current leadership presented for both sides was inadequate for the current task. They were too set in their ways, unwilling to think outside the box in order to take advantage of new opportunities, solidify existing strengths and deal with arising threats and pressing weaknesses. Plainly what was needed was someone with fresh ideas, a more flexible perspective, in short, new blood... and, to twist an age old axiom 'an omelet can't be made without shedding a few lives .'

The though caused a malevolent grin to tug at the elementals as he sent a near silent whisper to Isabel through a carefully crafted stream of wind before stepping back into the firelight and audibly cleared his throat. In all honesty another fireball would have been preferable but he'd already used most of the excess oxygen in the area and his abilities were somewhat limited in his partially ethereal state. Still a number of pawns spotted him quickly enough and their mutterings swiftly drew the attention of their superiors, both of whom gazed back at him with undisguised shock.

" I believe I was about to give both of you an offer, I'm afraid I've changed my mind."

A staccato burst of gunfire erupted The Foots leader, each bullet passing straight through the elemental with little damage visible damage beyond a brief ripple.

"Instead I'll hand you over to someone you are likely far more familiar with. Someone who's slaughtered this city's so called police, siphoned the very marrow from their writhing bodies, and stained the streets scarlet in their blood."

"Her name is Isabel..."

A shadowed form abruptly dropped down from above, four skeletal limbs impacting the paved earth with sufficient force to craft a web of cracks across the ground and make all but one leap in shock and then shift backwards as the firelight exposed the intruder.

"You may have heard of her.

In the brief silence which followed the hessian shifted his gaze to catch his companions eyes as she took in those around her. "Have fun."

"The Back Bullets. I work for the gang The Black Bullets,"[/color]

The hessians genial affectation flickered for the briefest of moments at the given name before gradually giving way to an apathetic yet skeptical countenance as his azure gaze abruptly shifted and traced a path from the captives right shoulder to his wrist which cut through the mans coat and shirt sleeve. The skin beneath was shown to be lightly tanned and, despite the blood flowing from a fresh cut along the arms length, the image of a jet black bullet was clearly visible on the victims forearm.

"...of course you do." The words were drawn out with no small amount of resignation as the elemental raised a hand to his eyes. While his knowledge of the various factions throughout the city was by no means encyclopedic, the nature of his... profession, was such that he'd had ample opportunity over the years to run across at least half of the more prominent groups in the area and hear a number of tales and rumours regarding those he hadn't. The Black Bullets fell into the latter category and their reputation was significant to say the least.

In short if crime was indeed organized in New York than the Black Bullets would have been upper management. Supposedly formed and backed by the larger Mexican drug cartels the Bullets were a primarily Latino contingent based somewhere on the waterfront and were one of the lead suppliers of cocaine in the city. Their organization was said to be relatively small, less than half that of some of their competitors, as they required their prospective customers to come to them; effectively forcing distribution costs onto other 'retail' groups who then attempted to make the actual sales on the streets.

While such a business model may seem ideal in theory, in practice it held a rather vital flaw; namely the world of organized crime was rather more prone to hostile take overs than that of legitimate business. This resulted in what could best be described as a direct relationship between the value of a factions assets and the manpower required to protect them. The Black Bullets were an anomaly in this regard as their goods were in exceedingly high demand yet they'd managed to not only persist but also profit for close to a decade with just a fraction of the members they should have needed.

The explanation for this was twofold; firstly the Black Bullets had access to a depressingly diverse range of munitions that would put a number of governments to shame. Secondly, unlike other criminal and legal entities, the Bullets members could actually hit not just the broad side of a barn, but also a knot in the wood at 40ft. In essence this meant that the Black Bullets were as much a gang as an AK-47 was a handgun. In all honesty, considering what was known about them, they'd be better described as a strike team with management skills.

Roused from his somewhat dispirited ponderings the elementals attention was drawn back to the present by a sudden scream from his previously gasping captive. A quick glance at the gang members shifting midsection left little doubt as to the cause of the man's pain and Zephyr shot an irritated look at his sanguinary partner which was either ignored or missed, neither possibility did much for the hessians mood.

"That will do." The mercenary's words were cool as he spoke and the fresh screams soon died away, only replaced with pained gasps as the unfortunate Bullet collapsed against his bonds and fought for air. Zephyr waited for a handful of moments until the man breathing had evened out before speaking again.

"I'm sure there's a silver lining to this somewhere, however as time is of the essence I'll settle for what I can get. Who else is coming tonight?"

Ghost's response did not come immediately, and for a moment Zephyr wondered if his words had reached the sylph's senses or simply attenuated against the aberrant quiescence before reaching their intended recipient. When the pale gamine eventually managed to choke out her laconic retort it was all but lost amongst the sudden seism which rippled throughout the semi solid air as the curious column of vehicles bearing down upon Mondragon's ruins collided violently with the borders of the ethereal ingénues influence.

The resulting pileup likely would have been quite the site, however the unnaturally indistinct auras which had been scattered across the convoy swiftly converged upon the scene, masking it from the hessians awareness and leaving him with nothing more than an obscure stagnant haze against the otherwise untarnished presence of the barely constrained air. Any measure of complacency arising from the collision was short lived though when the aphotic miasma resolutely began to make its way forward, through Ghost's static field of influence.

That was not a good sign.

"Ghost we need to leave."

His voice had lost its earlier trace of levity, shifting to a more grim and serious cadence as he gathered himself, fully intending to wrest control of the air from his counterparts strained grasp and drag her into the open sky if necessary. Zephyr held no illusions regarding the destruction he'd caused; there would be consequences, severe consequences, but only if he were caught. His mutation generally afforded him an unhindered avenue of escape, however the apparent immunity the approaching intruders possessed caused the hessian no small amount of concern and given the scale of his... incident, he was loath to take any unnecessary risks and if this meant ruffling a few of Ghost's feathers it was a price he was willing to pay.

"Svetty, I won't let them take you. It's my job to protect you and I need to do better than I have today. I'm sorry."

"You'd better help me keep this from getting out of hand."[/color]

The elemental bristled slightly at the sylph's final words, although she likely hadn't meant anything by them they implied a lack of control on his part, and although the surrounding destruction wouldn't let him defend his earlier actions he'd always taken a quiet form of pride in the mastery he held over his element. To say he felt a slight need to reaffirm his proficiency would be something of an understatement.

"I'll take care of it."

And he did.

The moment Ghost ceased to fight his own influence the air exploded into motion, franticly seeking to resume its earlier chaos as the unbound energy tore outwards in every conceivable direction in a single instant of freedom before Zephyr strangled it to an utter standstill.

It was by no means a simple feat, his powers were still far above their usual levels and writhed under his grasp searching for any means of escape. In his ethereal state though he found it far easier to filter the mass of perceptions and focus his attentions on the more immediate concerns such as releasing the ingénues below him and granting them a path through the frozen air.

"Take Svetlana and leave, I'll be right behind you."

Next was the various detritus which had been left to hang above the earth was released and allowed to float to the ground, and if some of the larger sections happened to drift and enter a certain obscure aura resulting in a somewhat telling 'Thud'[/i], well... he was hardly at the top of his game after all and so no one could really blame him for one or two minor mishaps which just so happened to delay some unwanted guests.

He would never be able to recall precisely what happened next; one moment he'd been struggling to direct and restrain a veritable cascade of energy, the next he felt as though he'd been dragged through a river of arctic water and found himself scrambling to deal with the sudden return of all his senses and an almost immeasurable degree of exhaustion which was rapidly causing what little vision he'd just regained to darken.

The last thing he saw was the earth below him, far too distant to be comfortable but all too eager to catch up.

As a rule, events rarely, if ever, go according to plan. This is largely due to what is known as Murphey's, aka sods, law which explicitly that whatever can go amiss shall almost always do so at the most inopportune time. Zephyr was therefore only marginally annoyed rather than surprised when the impotent click of the brunettes gun demonstrated that his words had failed to have their intended pacifying affect, though in hindsight a part of the elemental realized that conventional logic was rarely ever effective with women; they tended to treat any kind of rational thought as some kind of anathema.

In fact said line of thought was swiftly given a good deal of credence when the girl, instead of attempting to talk and cease hostilities upon realizing her only weapon had been rendered useless, chose to launch it at the source of her frustration in an over arm throw which could likely have put the Yankees to shame. The gun flew end over end through the short distance between the hallway and living room before catching the vexed elemental in the side of the head as he tried vainly attempted to duck and was rewarded with a dull thud just above his ear.

The impact served to knock the hessian off balance briefly, causing him to stumble along the wall, but the pain of the blow was quickly stifled by the high grade painkillers already coursing through his system and as his shoulder collided with the front door it had already faded to little more than a dull ache which was hardly greater than his usual migraine. His patience however had suffered considerably more damage and as the soubrettes words broke through the mild haze of disorientation the elemental abandoned his earlier hesitancy and rapidly drew upon the surrounding air.

The first course of action was damage control; he could sense the thickness of the walls and they were far from sufficient, the last thing he wanted was the attention of the other residents and so the azure eyed mercenary focused, and in motion born of long practice, deftly separated the air at the rooms perimeters thereby creating a thin vacuum which essentially insulated the apartment against any sound attempting to enter or leave.

The downside of this practical maneuver however was that it gave the hessians 'charming' host enough time to stalk around the couch which had previously served as a crude bulwark and stomp her way towards him with a rather incensed expression accompanied by a raised fist which carried a promise of rather ardent discomfort should she get within range.

The upside of the situation was that the girl was so preoccupied with her indignant outrage that she wasn't moving much faster than a brisk walk. While she admittedly didn't have much space to cover her pace was such that she'd barely entered the hallway when Zephyr met her gaze with narrowed eyes and responded with a short and simple "No." before giving a curt gesture with his hand and delivering a slice of dulled wind across the brunettes shoulders which all but took the girls feet out from under her as she stumbled backwards until she fell somewhat roughly across the couch she'd hidden behind not 30 seconds ago causing various papers and magazines to scatter.

No sooner had the woman landed then Zephyr followed up his initial retaliation, lifting his arm towards the briefly dazed brunette and swiftly clenching his hand into a fist as he rapidly condensed the air surrounding her lower half. Only after he had managed to essentially immobilize everything below the brunettes hips did the elemental allow himself a measure of repose before he lowered his arm and carefully regained his feet.

Walking with slow deliberate steps the hessian paused briefly at the end of the hallway and glanced down at a small side table which was cluttered with mail, grasping several with an idle air the elemental began striding forward again as he cycled through the envelops until he found one with a suitable mailing address and came to a stop a short distance away from his host; far enough to making throwing magazines or other stationary ineffective but close enough to be clearly heard.

"I would like to apologize Ms... Gage, I seem to have been unclear and so you do not properly appreciate your situation. I quite understand you do not want me here and I would like nothing more than to leave, however as I already mentioned a significant portion of my memory is missing and I take exception to having my mind altered without my consent."

"That being said the sooner you answer my questions the sooner I will leave and we can both get on with our lives. If instead you continue this petulant behavior I have alternative methods I can use which are not quite so polite. Now, are we going to help each other or are you going to continue to be difficult?"

The moral of the story? A woman should know her place.