Its all about the green [invite only]

Jeramiah saw the woman enter the bank, her walk said she wasn't there to make a withdrawal. Jeramiah was irked, he had been casing the bank for the past 6 days, preparing to rob it himself. He wasn't a criminal but he needed money. badly. He had been locked in that dungeon for a good 200 years, which left him severely short on funds. He stood in the alley across from the bank, checking his pistols too make sure they were working. He didn't need to, one of them wasn't truly a pistol, rather, it was a morphing weapon that responded only to him. When he had gotten it, it had the appearance of a flintlock, however he had found a primitive revolver shortly before being locked up and had made the weapon take on that shape. He supposed he should probably update its appearance, as doing so would probably help, but the revolver was perfect for his style: high power, low ammo. It forced him to make every shot count. Of course he had to do that anyway seeing as he had no money. He'd robbed a few stores for supplies, including a more modern outfit and more than a few guns. However, the only one he'd wound up keeping was a semi-automatic handgun which he had inscribed some rough runes into with a stolen knife. He had been forced to do the same to the bullets. Jeramiah made a mental note that once he had his basic needs provided for, he would purchase the basic materials necessary to build an ammo press with the runes carved into the mold. the gun would be easy to inscribe once he got a branding iron. For nearly two hundred years prior to his imprisonment he had been making bullets inscribed with the necessary runes to allow bullet curve. Luckily for him, all the Fenrir shells required was a bullet and some of his blood, from there he could recite the incantation and bind their souls to the bullet. He had made 12 more Fenrir rounds since his encounter with Swordsmaster. Things had definitely changed. Back in his day, nothing could stand against the Fenrirs, but these new generations appeared to be able to fight on par with his wolves. Suddenly the door to the bank opened, the woman strolled out carrying three bags. "I hate fighting girls" he sighed as he walked over and pulled out his semi-automatic, he would save Feuer Zunge until he needed it, after all, he had loaded 3 Fenrir shells and they were no longer the trump cards they used to be. "Hand over the money" he said, pointing the gun at the woman.

Jeramiah sneered, he wasn't sure what annoyed him more, the woman's arrogance or her callous dismissal, as she turned away from him he fired two shots from his semi-auto.
"I said: Drop. The. Bag."
Jeramiah sensed her tensing up and slowly reached his other hand back towards Feuer Zunge, ready for anything.

"Ah, so you can plant a garden, guess what, I can burn it down!" Jeramiah sneered, whipping out his revolver and firing two Fenrir shells. The air echoed with the trademark howl of the wolves as they emerged in a grand blaze around the bullet, burning the flowers as the wolves rushed the woman, a searing flame surrounding their grinning maws. The wolves leaped into the air and blasted alight, now more like comets than creatures. Landing around the woman they circled, faster, faster, creating a ring of fire around her.
"And I told YOU, drop the money. Now do it, or I turn you into little more then a pile of ash."

Jeramiah chuckled at her, he could see she was annoyed, but he detected a hint of something else -mockery?- as she pulled something out and crushed it before he could see. Jeramiah squinted, allowing his honed vision to focus on her hand; all he saw were specs of dust, the flames had probably burned out whatever she had planned, still he would need to be careful. A sweet sense wafted into his nostrils, he didn't recognize the smell, but it reminded him of expensive perfume. Jeramiah looked at the flames and how close they were getting to the woman. He didn't want to burn the bags, but the girl was so close to them, if he burned her, he would burn them, and he didn't really want to burn either. "Hand over the bags and I'll let you go beautiful" he said, surprised that he had complimented her.

The woman was offering him a split, but he would have to be careful, types like her were used to getting their way so he would have to make sure it was fair. "You've got my attention" he said, holstering his semi-auto. Jeramiah motioned for his Fenrirs to stop emitting flame, but to continue circling. "Now, what's the percentage?"
he said noticing more plants slither up from the ground. He made a mental note that she could grow them without visible seedlings.

Jeramiah looked over at the woman for a few seconds before sighing. "Yeah, let's go. We'll discuss this more later." Jeramiah gave a sharp whistle and the Fenrirs moved to his side. "Boys, cover our exit" he snapped as the Fenrirs rushed from his side and began to spit massive gouts of fire into the surrounding buildings. Jeramiah smiled. "Let's go, shall we?"

Jeramiah followed the woman, looking around at the crowd, they seemed to be in a daze. He would make sure not to let this woman do anything like that. She seemed the sort to try it even if she didn't have to. Making sure his wolves continued to spread the fires in the opposite direction of where they were headed, he followed her. Upon arriving at the apartment labeled 318 he eagerly followed her inside, this would be the first time he'd been in a real house since his escape. After entering the room, Jeramiah's senses were assaulted with a plethora of scents, almost overwhelming him. The woman told him to make himself comfortable, so he did. His head hurt, he was feeling a tad sluggish, but not in his muscles. he sat back against the couch and said "Yeah, I've got a headache, so how about you tell me what you were thinking, and what was that earlier about aspirations?"
he asked, surprised at his honesty about the headache.