Hallbjorn was quiet for a time. Long enough to shore up his control. When he spoke again it was how he typically addressed her. "I feel responsible for turning your life upside-down. It was a fine life - friends, a job, loving parents. I took you from it." There was some of the young woman's life he had deduced from observing her and her surroundings, like her parents, but he'd seen her at work and with her friends and there was nothing about the life Kara lived that was wrong. And now she was targeted by demon mercenaries traveling halfway across the country with someone she didn't know from Adam who was just as bad or worse as the ones after her. He was after her too: the only difference was he'd succeeded and he worked for a different interested party.<br/><br/>His gaze flicked up to the rearview mirror. His lips became a thin line and he reached for the dash for his sunglasses.<br/><br/>"Someone's following us." He informed her, and turned into the empty parking lot of a now-closed 9 to 5 business. Two pickup trucks turned in after them and followed. Hallbjorn parked the truck and killed the engine. He got out, and paused as if he were going to say something to her. Instead he closed the door silently.<br/><br/>The Scots couple from the steakhouse emerged from one truck, and two more red-headed males emerged from the other. There was an obvious family resemblance between all three males. They were all cast from the same mold: all ruggedly handsome Highland males, their bellies full of fire. In the restaurant, the male's eyes had been a rich, deep green like the Scottish countryside, but now all three males sported eyes that glowed a very bright blue. Just as the female's did. All of them wore expressions that betrayed a deep dislike for Hallbjorn, and a deep relish that for the pain they felt soon to inflict upon them. With the headlights of Hallbjorn's truck still on, it was easy to see the lengthening claws at the tips of the fingers of the four Scots.<br/><br/>"Ye ballocks'd up, Nordman." The one from the restaurant said. "Ye think I'd forget ye, ye cunt?"<br/><br/>Hallbjorn shrugged his titanic shoulders. "Do you think I remember every dog I kick?" This earned snarls from the foursome, the Berserker's disrespect stoking their anger.<br/><br/>"Ye stabbed me in the ballocks and tossed me to the sharks, Berserker!" The lead one said. "Ye killed our brother!"<br/><br/>"Liam was nay e'en a century old when you took his head, though he begged ye for mercy!" The female said, rightly furious.<br/><br/>Hallbjorn held up his hand and made a circling motion, telling the werewolf to get on to the part that set him apart from all of the others.<br/><br/>One of the ones from the truck turned his head and looked straight at Kara. He smiled at her, and licked his lips with a long, lolling tongue.<br/><br/>Hallbjorn's features betrayed him as that male looked at Kara. She did not get to see what played out on his face, but she did get to see his shoulders and back tense.<br/><br/>"Oh? Ye don' like me lookin' on yon lass? She seems right bonny to me, Berserker." The werewolf taunted.<br/><br/>"She is not yet immortal and innocent of wrong-doing against you. Leave her be. Unless the MacRieve clan has lost all honour?" The Berserker said, but as soon as he took that tack he knew he had revealed too much. The lead male's smile took on a very, very terrifying level of glee.<br/><br/>"Ach, Berserker. My cousins know how to treat a bonny lass like that to a good eve, don' ya, lads?" The other werewolves obligingly grinned and waggled their eyebrows.<br/><br/>Hallbjorn moved almost faster than Kara's eyes could perceive. But she would just be able to make it out. And while he moved, he changed. His muscles surged, and the man grew larger. He was, as she put it, Hulking out. He swung a fist that was like an anvil at the lead werewolf, striking him in the chest with bone-shattering force that knocked the werewolf back, off of his feet, and into the side of the werewolf's truck. The side of the truck crumpled as it was designed to, absorbing the force of the impact as it had been t-boned by an 18-wheeler going 100mph. The truck turned onto its side and then over. The stricken werewolf did not rise; his feet stuck up above the underside of the truck.<br/><br/>The other werewolves snarled in their rage, baying for blood. Their bodies grew larger as well, and they were surrounded by a spectral image of a beast. They moved quickly to surround Hallbjorn, employing classic pack tactics. It was almost like an old Roman circus show where packs of wolves were pitted against a bear. The werewolves flung themselves at Hallbjorn with the fierceness of the wolf spirit within, and Hallbjorn struck back with the anger of a lean bear in winter . . .<br/><br/>As fiercely as the werewolves fought, as quickly as they moved, they were nothing like the controlled fury that Hallbjorn showed them. The berserker rage was a god-given gift; his immortal might a prize earned by winning battles in the name of an ancient god whose name meant fury. When Hallbjorn struck the werewolves with fists like anvils it was like he dropped mountains on them, breaking bones and pulverizing flesh with every strike. The female was the first to fail to rise: a powerful blow sent her to lie beside her mate. A clubbing blow to the back shattered the spine of a standing male, and brutal kick took out his legs, breaking the knees and leaving the legs splayed at odd angles.<br/><br/>The last male tried to bite at Hallbjorn, who caught the wolf by face and jaw. The werewolf used his claws to savage Hallbjorn's front, but Hallbjorn did not relinquish his grip. With a savage wrench he tore off the werewolf's jaw but left his head attached to his body. Then he slammed the werewolf's face into the pavement, creating a large pothole and leaving the limp werewolf there to recover.<br/><br/>Hallbjorn walked over to the pickup that remained intact, and with one hand lifted the front of it. His other hand grasped the wheel and ripped it away, tossing it carelessly aside. It rolled off into the night, then fell over onto its side, forgotten. The truck he let go and it dropped back to the pavement, dipping on the side where it lacked a wheel.<br/><br/>The Berserker walked back to the fallen werewolves. They were all alive - wounded badly, but alive. Hallbjorn looked at them. Dark thoughts went through his mind. His body remained filled with the rage of gods, his immortal frame swollen with untold strength. He bled from many wounds and the fight left his platinum blond hair a chaotic mess around his head and shoulders.<br/><br/>Slowly, his head turned towards his own vehicle and where Kara had been.<br/><br/>The eyes that looked towards where the female sat before the brutal melee were not the typical blue of the Berserker calm:<br/><br/>They were the grey of a raging storm.