After Sayuri leaves, Dorian looks down at his torn and burnt British S.A.S. uniform. His features twisting in frustration and anger. The pale florescent lights of his armory cast shadows across his sharp features. He rips the remains of the uniform from him. The sound of the tearing fabric and his own breathing was all that could be heard in the room.<br/><br/>As the last of the ragged uniform hit the cold stone floor, the frustration seemed to flow out of Dorian. He smiled. His face had looked brooding and twisted with anger a moment before is darkly handsome once again, his blue eyes glimmering.<em>'I could not defeat the creature alone,'</em>he smirked.<em>'But neither could any of them.'</em>He walked naked to a row of wooden manikins beyond the rows of weapons.<br/><br/>The first blank manikin is adorned in an ancient suit of bronze platemail. A great silver etched phoenix spread its wings across the chest. He placed a reverent hand on the cold metal. A gleam of crimson drew his eye to the next suit standing proud. Great silver spikes ran along the heavy collar of the plate mail.  No scars blemished the burnished crimson plates. Dorian lowers his head reverently before touching the blood stained metal and ceramic.<br/><br/>He licks his lips before he lifts a heavy crimson gauntlet from its perch. Slipping his hand inside the ceramic he clenches his fist tightly. Servo-muscles in the armor whining as the gauntlet adjusts to the sudden movement after all these years.<em>'This time abomination I will be ready for you.'</em>His smile was colder than the blank stare of the horned crimson great helm before him.