Lycana sits in her car, still mulling over her good fortune. She turns her attention back to her phone, noticing an extra little detail within the email she had overlooked. She already was booked in her first match. “Halocen and Atara Themis. A three-way dance for the number one contenders spot.” she mumbles as she sets her phone down again. A number one contenders match already no less. The fact that she knew next to nothing about her opponents meant nothing to her. They were just objects, pieces of meat she had to plow her way through to release the violence, to cut down on the path to come face to face with others... bigger and better pieces of meat that might just be a little bit tougher, a little bit harder to get by. Flesh to inflict her savagery upon. She longed for all those moments; they were so close now she could practically taste it. These two... they were the first two rungs of a very tall ladder that she was set on climbing.

Two for one deal, on her very first appearance, could it get any better? Her lips curve upwards in an evil leer, and a sharp maniac chortle is heard once more. “I hope they'll be ready for me.” Her eyes sparkle with glee. They would find out in under two weeks, and she for one, couldn’t wait. As for the other two, they probably wouldn’t agree with her once they went toe to toe with someone who not only enjoyed both inflicting and receiving brutality... but craved it like the lungs craved oxygen. As for the chance to win a slot to face the Shooting Star Champion already, they probably popped her in just for filler. It didn't matter. Visions of slaughter and destruction occupying her mind, she shifts her car into gear and heads towards her home.

A threatening growl greets her as she steps through the door into her house. A pair of amber colored eyes shining seem to levitate as they stalk towards her, the snarl increasing in ferocity. Lycana pauses, shaking her head. “Hush now Fenrir. You know better than that.” She reaches out with her mind, connecting to the dark silhouette that loomed in front of her. The rumbling subsides as the shadow emerges in the form of a massive black wolf, now in a respectful posture, tail wagging slightly. Lycana smiles, stepping forward to run her hand through the thick fur of his ruff around his neck. She reaches into her pocket, hand emerging with the organ that had once powered the life of the goat she had sacrificed. She tosses it in the air, the jaws of the wolf moving swiftly with a discernible snap. It is gone within a moment, swallowed down to the deep dark cavern of Fenrir's stomach, to be churned away to nothing by his stomach acid.

Pleased now, he follows as Lycana makes her way up the stairs towards the room at the end of the hallway. He lays across the threshold, taking up his position as guardian for his mistress, huffing a sigh as he settles his head on his forelegs, scrutinizing the movements of the one he holds in reverence. She carefully shifts through some objects on a table, bringing forth a calendar. She flips to November placing a bold circle around the date for the High Stakes PPV. Her digits trace it, over and over again. November 29th. That was the big day. The day after she would take the long flight from North Carolina to Arizona to meet her destiny. The day she would finally be able to unleash all the wrath and resentment she had held inside of herself for so long, on her two very unsuspecting victims. That was the day... Halocen and Atara Thesis would come to rue. She would make sure of that.

But first, it wouldn’t hurt to do a little reconnaissance on her opponents. While who she was against didn’t matter much in the grand scheme of things, she was curious about the two that she would be stepping in the ring against. Were they the same as she was? Did they enjoy the feeling of their body slamming into someone else? Did the crave the pain from a boot to the jaw? Or were they in it for the gold and glory? Perhaps they were just pretty pieces of ass that just pranced about giggling inanely pretending to actually know what they were doing. There was only one way to find out. With a sigh she sets down the calendar and moves over to the desk on the other side of the room. She slips into the chair in front of her computer and gets down to business.

The wet nose of Fenrir nudging against her arm brings her out of her engrossed state. She glances down at him, reading the message in his eyes without having to link mentally with him. She glances back at the screen and regretfully pushes back away from the desk to rise to her feet. She had learned what she could not only about her opponents, but also about other members of the wrestling federation. There were more than a handful she would love to meet in the ring, simply because they seemed to vibe with her own enjoyment of both giving and receiving harsh punishments. The two she was slotted to go against at the pay per view, well... they left a little bit to be desired for her taste.

There would be time for reflection on that later... for now, she had other matters to attend to. She heads down the stairs to the back door of the house, the large black wolf leading the way. She opens it up, and he shoots out into the outdoors like a rocket. She follows close behind, shutting the door and encasing both of them into almost complete darkness. Lycana blinks slightly, her eyes slowly getting used to the inky night. Both figures stand silent and motionless for long moments until Fenrir's ears flicker forward a moment before a faint howl splits the tranquility. The wolf comes to attention, focused on the large copse of trees towards the back of the property the led into a thick forest.

Lycana feels her own nerves go on high alert, waiting, on edge. Knowing what was coming but not ready for the emotion that came along with it. Fenrir stiffens a brief few seconds before a small pack of wolves lopes out of the woods. The approach him, making excited noises. His head raises, tail wagging stiffly as they posture and greet him. Tensions ease, and they all break into playful whines, shoving noses deep into the others fur and taking in deep lungfuls of their scent. Through it all, Lycana watches not making a single move. The emotion thundering through her veins at this very moment? Jealousy.

Envy coursed through her, a thick green wave that she loathed with every fiber of her being. She deserved some of the power that had bestowed upon some of these lowly souls. She had been faithful, doing anything asked of her. Well, except things that were beneath her now but she had also earned the rank she was at now. It wasn't like she hadn't served her time as a newbie. The fact that she was overlooked over and over again galled her to no end. The reasons given to her? Her temper. Her unpredictable nature. Her inability to control the violent emotions that were anchored deep within her core. Excuses. All of them. Unacceptable excuses each one. At the very least she should have been honored long before Rolfe had been given his powers.

As if on cue a reddish wolf trotted over, tongue lolling out as his yellow eyes sparkled with mischief. Lycana looked at him, unable to hide her feelings, dislike written all over her features. The wolf dropped his front end down, bouncing around much like a puppy wanting to play. He goes so far as to bark at her. BARK. AT. HER. Lycana’s nose wrinkles in absolute disgust at his antics. Not a single shred of decorum, no inkling at the privilege that had been bestowed upon him. It was just all fun and fucking games. She seethed silently, crossing her arms over her chest just staring coldly at the foolish creature bumbling about in the grass.

Giving up, the red wolf stops and moves back to a normal stance. A ripping, cracking noise fills the air and in the place of the wolf stands a redheaded man, as naked as the day he was born. He grins friskily at the woman before him, who continues to gaze malevolently at him. He runs a hand through his shaggy hair, glancing back at the pack who are not paying any attention to these two, who are slightly off to the side. ”Oh c’mon now Lycana. Is that anyway to greet a friend? You should smile more.” He tilts his lanky body to lean all his weight on his right leg, crossing his arms to mimic her stance, having zero shame at his state of undress.

Lycana grits her teeth, fighting the urge to slam her first into his gloating face. So much for her work earlier, this one brought nothing but the worst out of her. The only thing holding her back was the notion that if she let her anger loose, she would never gain the power to shapeshift that she so desperately craved. And prove the excuses from the goddesses to be correct no less, but that was neither here nor there. ”I am not your friend Rolfe.” her voice hisses out, rougher than she had intended it to. So much for keeping her cool. Ah well, the lack of physical violence should be praised when faced with an idiot of Rolfe’s character. He was just so damnably HAPPY all the fucking time. It was exasperating to her.

For whatever reason, from the moment he had appeared within the group, he had latched onto her and seen it as his duty to try and make her smile. AKA be the biggest thorn in her side that she had ever experienced in her life. She wasn’t sure that he knew just how much she loathed his very existence. He was under the impression that they were in fact, friends. She tried to tell him otherwise and show him every chance she got that she despised him, but nothing seemed to sink through the damnably thick skull. Perhaps he was just trying to get a rise out of her under the guise of affability. The fact that he did just about every time, regardless of her intentions not to, irked the shit out of her. She had pictured his murder in her head more times than she could count.

”You don’t mean that.” the offhand remark nearly sends Lycana over the edge. Rolfe appears unruffled by her blunt words. He rubs a toe in the dirt, flashing his pearly whites at her once more. ”In fact, I think you kinda like me.” She struggles to bite back the retorts hovering on her tongue as the smug young man strides closer to her. Her brow flicks upwards as she voids her face of any emotion other than cool disdain. She looks up into his arrogant visage, grappling internally with her rage. She had a hard enough time keeping it in check in the best of time. This certainly was not the best of times. "I can assure you that I do mean it, and I wish nothing more than to see you perish in a cruel and unusual manner." she drily comments, her upper lip twitching as she looks him over.

He laughs at her. Her anger boils dangerously close to the surface at the gall Rolfe had. "You're too funny!” Yep that was her. A barrel full of monkeys set under the big top of the most famous circus in town. Throw in a car full of clowns and all their tricks, and that described Lycana perfectly. She deadpanned a false chuckle. Its totally lost on him however, as he laughs once more and reaches out to pat her shoulder. Her head shifts to the side, staring at his appendage touching her flesh, contemplating tearing it off at his elbow. Luckily for him, he removes his hand in time and waves a goodbye, shifting back into his animal form, galloping back to the rest of the crew who stood waiting. The biggest of the beasts stare at Lycana for a few moments and she could feel the probing at the edge of her consciousness, but she keeps her mind stubbornly blank. They wouldn’t get inside her brain that easy. Only if she allowed it.

Acknowledging defeat, the pack turns and moves off as one, back from where they came, Fenrir joining them now off to hunt and do whatever it was they all did out there under the pale beams of light from the moon. Lycana watched until she could see them no more, and then still stood alone. She longed to be out there with the other lycanthropes, amongst the wolves running free, free to rip the throats from unsuspecting prey. She shivers, and not from the temperature of the air around her. Technically speaking, she could obtain the ‘curse’ on her own. A single bite would give her everything she desired. However, she knew none of the loyal would do so, and risk angering their deities. There were a few rogues, but to go to them would bring wrath down upon her as well, and she had no desire to sever ties right now.

She turns on her heel and stalks back into her house, barely refraining from slamming the door behind her. She goes about making herself a cup of dandelion tea, sipping the steaming liquid as she stares out the window, contemplating what she wanted to do while Fenrir was out. Granted, she didn’t have to stay up and wait for him to return, but she rather enjoyed slipping into his mind and reliving the bloodletting that had occurred. It was the next best thing to being there herself and she was loathe to give that up. Instead, her mind turns once more to the future career that awaited her. She can feel her mood shift back towards the positive as she imagines what she would do to the two wayward beings that were going to stand between her and her next victim. She could only hope they would try to inflict the same torment on her. She enjoyed that.

She sets the mug of cooling tea down in the sink, and exits the room, making her way back up the stairs, drawn back to her computer like a magnet. She settles back down into the chair, and gets back on with the business she had been attending to before she had accompanied Fenrir outside to await his peers. She leans forward, eyes eagerly scanning, taking in everything she could. A few clicks here, and a few clicks there and she is captivated, learning more about the individuals at this XWF that she desired to get her talons into. But first... she brings up photos of both Atara Themis and Halocen... she had to go through these two. She settles back in her chair, her tongue running over her teeth as she contemplates how the match could go. A few quick commands and the camera is launched and set to record.

“Pain is exquisite. Not many would agree with me, but they are fools. Only a fool could fail to appreciate how the nerve endings sing under the onslaught of torture. I hope to find like souls upon entering the XWF. Ones who not only enjoy the destruction of the bodies of others, but also the feeling of their own torment. Ones who take that pain, and let it fuel them. Push them to be harder, more vicious than they ever thought possible. Pain is an addiction. They say admitting you have an addiction is a step right? The thing is, I have no desire to rehabilitate or recover from this particular affliction. On the contrary, I hope to spread it throughout my time in the federation.

Wrestling, the perfect outlet for those who crave a little more barbarity in their lives. Locked in battle in the ring, meting out punishments, pushing your body to its limits all so you can do it over again. Gluttons for pain, even if they don’t admit it. I might be new to the in ring world, but I am not new to the suffering of the flesh. I embrace it with open arms. Come High Stakes, I will finally be able to do what I have always wanted to... and get paid for hurting people. The where doesn’t matter. The how doesn’t matter. The who doesn’t even matter. My opponents are nothing but walking piles of meat to carve my path through, onto something bigger and better. More of a challenge.

Not only will I be making my debut on a pay per view, I will be graced with not one, but two adversaries. The more the merrier I say. Halocen and Atara, I truly look forward to my meeting with you. I hope you prove to be worthy of my attentions, and not just a pair of cheap, pretty playthings that I break within the first few moments of use. As you appear to be. I would be quite disappointed if that were the case, so my darlings... do make some sort of effort to be ready for this match.”

Another few clicks and the feed ends, sent off via cyberspace to be viewed by any who wished. A feral smile appears.

"Ut metus consumat animas vestras."

May the fear consume your soul.