"You! Who are you now? Marta, no no not the right one..." A strange moment of calm pa.s.sed over Jocko as he suddenly seemed to be thinking. Jocko looked at the ceiling which had not escaped the b.l.o.o.d.y fury of previous fights with his own people. The moment pa.s.sed quickly, Jocko jerked his gaze back to the young woman wearing her own black leathers. "You are Rebecca! You've come to try to stop me! Hahahaha!" Becca raised her whisky gla.s.s and neatly saluted. "Jocko, you've been unruly. You killed everyone in your pack? Jocko, how many? 23? Why didn't you call for help? When you realized the stage you were at? "

Jocko was old, six hundred years old. With Becca's influence he was gaining a bit of sanity here at his end. He looked around again at the destruction of his place. The place he had been so proud of. He saw what was left of his people covering the floors and walls. "I, it happened so fast. One second I was arguing with Bremmer and the next I went for his throat." "Then I couldn't see for the blood in my eyes anymore." Confusion pa.s.sed over his face as he looked at the indifferent woman before him. She knew what had happened. She had been here so many times in different countries, continents, and eras. Becca pa.s.sed Jocko the whisky. "A toast to our fallen." she said as she raised her gla.s.s. Jocko nodded and raised the bottle too.

After they drank they sat the gla.s.ses down and stood. "Jocko my old friend it won't be easy. I'm at my end." He nodded and continued to nod as her sanity restoring influence was withdrawn. His head jerking up and down like he was watching TV credits. She let him make the first move.

The two girls in the corner forgotten as the battle raged. If possible they made themselves smaller; curling into each other as pill bugs. They hid their faces as fountains of blood covered every inch of the room. Jocko had been a big man. The woman who had been so calm ripped the former head of the werewolf biker gang into bits.