Sleep did not come quickly to Marcellus and when it did it did not seem to have any effect on his energy levels. Movement about the bunker brought him to wakefulness. It seemed everyone was getting ready.

Tivon was loading bullets into magazines. He was currently dressed in combat fatigues and had a straight, focused look about him. Erik was carrying boxes off shelves that seemed to be filled with grenades. Marcellus noted particularly the lack of care Erik handled the box and the fact that grenades were in said boxes on a shelf to begin with instead of somewhere safer. Ava was leaning over a collection of knives on another table. She seemed rather engrossed with which she would take which her. She picked up and handled them for a bit. She seemed to choose one every other knife of which she stowed away in one of the many sheaths strapped to her form. Marcellus thought it strange considering that she already had at least six knives strapped to her person. Declan was nowhere in sight but the sound of typing could be heard in the direction of the computer hive. Was it possible that he still had not slept?

Marcellus sat up and laid his great maul in his lap. This was all he needed – that and his skills with magic. He never did need much else. Firearms were not his thing – not that he did not know how to use them. There was very few problems a good hit with a hammer could not solve and the things that it could not magic tended to be a bet fit for him than guns.

Most people when it came to magic could not use it, could not use it effectively, or could not use it for extended periods but Marcellus was different. It came naturally to him. Most of the time, he used it to enhance his already formidable physical abilities such as speed, strength, and reflexes. Other times he would conjure shields to protect himself from gunfire when he needed to close a gap, block projectiles, or even fire some of his own when the hammer was slightly less effective. This made truly exceptional at melee combat.

However, bending elements was his favorite thing to do. Most of the time it is mostly restrained towards conjuring heat or cold on his maul to give it an extra kick. But he could effectively shape most natural elements around him as long as it was fairly free to move. It was also an incredibly useful survival skill - quickly digging out a shelter, summoning water in an arid area, or clearing air of fumes. Being able to do these things meant life or death in the field. Marcellus learned early on that he had a distinct advantage when it came to such things. It is what made him a valuable asset and allowed him to become a Templar so quickly. Magic users were rare enough but one who could use it so readily? Even more so.

A flicker of movement at the corner of his vision snapped him from his thoughts. To his right against the wall was a large crate. Nothing about it was unusual, save for the small black tail that poked out from behind it. Marcellus raised an eyebrow quizzically. Slowly, Cathleen’s face peered out from the side of the crate. When their eyes met she ducked back in.

Marcellus was never good with kids. Perhaps it was because he was never good at being a kid himself. Regardless, he found the young girl’s action strange. What is she was doing?

“It seems you made a friend.”

Marcellus looked up to see Ava standing against a support beam of the catwalk to his left. A soft smile played at her lips. Her tail gently swayed back and forth.