Quite the Homecoming.

Girard watched as Wawick's shaggy form approached Singed's lab. The Blood Hunter was just a bit later than predicted, but that was nothing Girard would stress over. Soon, the expedition would be underway, and Swain would have his prise....Why one would ever want a voidspawn creature alive was beyond him, but Girard was not one to question orders.

At his left and right were two of his strongest recruits: ZAC and Adal, both equipped for the long journey ahead. Adal was in the ZMC's now-standard-issue light armor, while Zac, who was not under any stretch of the imagination going to be able to fit into body armor - nor keep himself inside it - simply stood beside Girard in all his gelatinous glory. They had been informed that they would be going on an escort mission to get some active-duty training, as they were among the best that the training program offered. Girard would have taken Vi as well....But she was a loose cannon, and prone to causing collateral damage. Girard would most certainly want to avoid having the parcel damaged in any way.

Girard inclined his head in greeting as Warwick approached. "Greetings, Blood Hunter. Unfortunately, Singed is currently in Noxus at the moment, so we have been tasked with aiding you in the delivery of your...Parcel. I trust that the beast is unharmed?"

Indeed the voidreaver was alive, though how well he was a matter of speculation, a simple sleeping drug would be harmless to most beings of this world, but with so many different species genetic information combined to form his own, the effects were more effective than probably intended.

At first he slept, for the majority of the trip in fact but deep below his carapace a battle was still being fought. Vesicles, enzymes and other synthesisers were busy at work, collecting, disassembling, recreating the toxins that were forcibly injected into him. Without even a conscious thought his body had created an effective vaccine, once the toxin levels dropped naturally to level which didn't paralyse himself.

Hunkered down behind the bushes around Singed's great estate, the little Ionian summoner held her breath that she might better eavesdrop. She peeked through the leaves and could make out several distinct forms: champions and soldiers, all imposing. What was that man saying? A commander by the way he carried himself, by the way the woman in fatigues and... champion Zac? deferred to him. The beast. What could that mean? What beast had they snatched from Ionia to deliver here? No, to Noxus.

Brown eyes peered out from her hiding place, between a reeking trash receptacle and the untamed hedges of the Chemist's "garden." Dainty hands splayed in the dirt to steady her and keep her still. She could not risk the scritching of a pen on paper. This exchange would be noted in her mind--and she would allow the high summoners access to it upon her return to the Institute if they deemed it necessary.

More waiting. Just what Warwick wanted to do. He patience with waiting had run dry. But he would wait for the transport Girard would summon.

As he waited for the truck, his heard small rustling in the bushes. They were very quite, none of the others would hear it. He dismissed it for some small animal or the wind. But the rustling didn't leave and he caught a scent as the wind changed direction.

It was human. Someone was watching them. He had caught a rat spying on him. He could tell the man this and have his men capture the spy...but where was the fun in that? He hadn't had any real fun in awhile, not since he killed Gaynesford. No, he would savour this one. The beast agreed with him for once.

Warwick didn't let his growing excitement show, keeping his tone and mannerisms in a state of annoyance. He watched as Girard and his soldiers board the truck. He didn't follow them on.

"I will meet you there. I have business to attend to at my place. Load the cargo on and wait for me. I shouldn't be long."

He lied about being quick, but he didn't care. He began to make his way towards his place, regardless of what else the man would say. And when the truck leaves, he would quickly dip himself out of sight of Vera. And when she thought she had lost him, the real fun would begin.

Kha'Zix remained silent as he was moved once more, no point attempting anything in the presence of so many individuals. As the box sat on the 'truck' only steady breathing could be heard from within. The voidreaver listened intently figuring out what these creatures planned for him.

The beast, the beast, the beast, the High Commander's words echoed in her ears. What could it be that they were shipping, these Noxians and Zaunites? Something terrible, it must be. She held her breath as the party dispersed, as Warwick rounded the hedges and the dumpster. Whew. He hadn't seen her. She would remain crouched in her hiding place until she was certain it was safe to flee...

Vera's heart leapt up into her throat as she was yanked from the bushes. She barely had time to register what was going on before the beast's snout was an inch from her face. His hot breath smelled of grime. The gleam of his canines reflected in her eyes. A strangled cry was all she could get out before the weight of him pressed down on her chest. She was Ionian by heritage, so small and slender. She was like a ragdoll to him--and she knew it.

Terror kept her silent. She struggled in vain against the pressure of his weight. She should scream. She should cry for help. Why did she come here alone! But no words would come, frozen as she was by utter dread.