And then he slams back into his own body with a bang.

The serenity of the Vathres Springs, once again, washed over them as Damien cradled Lycana in his arms. Both looked at each other as if horrified by the visions they had shared together. He blinked a few times, struggling to find the words to say, but none came out. Instead, he simply turned and carried her out of the waters, gently setting her down as his eyes searched over her skin, no visual traces of the poison seemed present on her flesh. As he tried to process all of her memories, he had inadvertently invaded, his hand went to his neck, feeling the scar that was present, a self-inflicting wound that could’ve, should’ve, been much worse than that. “How…” Damien needed to clear his throat, find his voice again. “How are you feeling?”

“I...” her voice was raspy, even on the single syllable. She swallows hard, trying to remove the boulder she found lodged around her vocal cords, finding it a bit more painful than she had anticipated. “I’ve been better.” she finally gets out, refusing to look him in the eye as she stares around the Springs. She revels that her body was once more hers, obeying her whims, albeit a bit shakily.

She flushes as she thinks about what had just happened, having felt him tumble right on through the corners of her mind with her, helpless to do anything about it. She felt far more naked and exposed with that, than she did with the flimsy piece of fabric that coated her, wet and clinging to her form.

Damien knew he had just seen things he was never meant to see, a silent witness to all of those past experiences and memories. He had felt her struggling to push him out, force herself away, wall off those painful moments of how she had come to be. The darkness within him stirred in her presence, reminding him that she was not completely without sin. But her family, their deaths; he believed her, she was innocent. “Tavora…” Damien began, reaching out to touch her but then pulling his hand away, not daring risk a repeat performance of his Echo-like abilities penetrating her mental wall again.

“I didn’t know… I don’t remember…” His mind was all jumbled with the things he had seen again in Cate’s conclave. He had turned the blade on himself, tried to end it once and for all, yet she had stopped him; she had saved him. None of this made any sense. “We should get back.” Damien noticed her body shaking from the cold. “We’ve been gone a long time and I’m sure Marf is… worried about you.”

She inwardly cringed, his complete attitude change towards her testament to all the history he had witnessed. She wanted to lash out, a snarky comment to get the pity out of his eyes. She had missed the Damien of old, where he had been... kind to her but, she would have given anything to prevent him from plundering about where he had, including keeping the version that wanted to kill her. “Marf is here? He’s okay?” she inquires of him, finally finding her voice. She slowly drags her eyes to him, watching his fingers trace across the scar on his neck. She had meant to avoid the subject, meant to pretend what had happened never happened, but...

“I meant what I said that night... I cared. Care.” She cuts her eyes away once more, as she slowly and carefully finds her feet, her legs trembling slightly underneath her.

Lycana was eager to get back to Marf, to see his face again, but Damien dared to reach out, wrapping his hand around her wrist. He cringed as if his powers would activate again and he’d find himself in falling back down the rabbit hole but nothing… no flashes… no spark. Either his abilities had, for the time being, waned or she had restored her mental blocks, keeping him out.

“Lycana...” Damien began, her new name not quite rolling off the tongue like the one he was familiar with. But given the situation, he felt it appropriate to address her this way. “I wasn’t trying to see inside you… these powers, I still don’t understand them; how they work. And as for what I saw, I won’t say anything to anyone; these are your secrets to tell. You, apparently, saved me from myself back there… all those years ago. I don’t know why I don’t remember that but… thank you.” Damien leaned in and planted a soft kiss on her cheek before quickly pulling away. Whether it was the link that she had placed on him, or something else, he couldn’t help but be drawn to her.

Perhaps it was seeing into her past, seeing just how similar their history had been, tragic… brutal… misery sure did seem to love company. He had more digging to do, to figure out just what this all meant, why his memory of Cate’s conclave did not match up with hers. Was it more mystical trickery, just another illusion he had to break through?

“Come on.” Damien forced a half-smile, his own thoughts weighing on him but remembering that there would be time for him to dwell on that later. “We don’t want to keep them waiting.”

“Thank you...” a barely audible response, choked out. She didn’t know what else to say. Lycana slowly begins to walk alongside him, her mind absorbing everything that had come to pass, still reeling from his kiss to her cheek. This was not the Damien she had left behind. Perhaps it all had something to do with the bond? Her trip to the In Between? If the bond was broken, would things continue on like this? It was near disconcerting, the complete one eighty he had done, and she had to see if this was him... or just a trick of the bond. She comes to a stop, and as he turns towards her, curious, she closes her eyes and unties their link, letting the dark green essence unwind from her blue one, trailing away until it is gone.

“You’re free now Damien. I don’t hold a thing over you anymore.”

She carefully steps towards him, searching his face for the flip in emotions she was certain was going to come her way. Damien could feel the weight lift off his shoulders, as if that cursed bell had been strapped to his back. He thought he would feel relief to be free of her, to no longer be linked to her in this way. But after what he had just witnessed, he felt like this was her way of pushing him away. “Ly... Tavora.” Damien corrected, lifting his hand to her cheek where, moments ago, his lips had been. “I..“ No words could be spoken as his own memories betrayed him and forced their way to the surface, revealing a truth that Lycana maybe wasn’t quite aware of.

Marf was willing to die for her.

He had said as much. And now she knew. Damien recoiled from her as his arm fell to his side, seeing the confusion etched in her face. He forced himself to recollect the feelings he had felt whilst trapped inside her mind.

“I think you should tell him how you feel.” Damien deflected, turning on his heel and leading her back to where the others were waiting.

____________________________________________________________________________________

She was paralyzed again. She struggled to force her body to move, but it refused all her begging and pleading. She draws a ragged breath, feeling her lungs already starting to resist doing their job. The war raged on around her as she lay helplessly on the blood-spattered battlefield. Her finger twitches reflectively as she tries to recall what had happened. The dagger. He had cut her with the dagger. Then one by one her nerves had failed her, her body falling limp and leaving her just a broken mass. A shadow blots out the sky and she squints... horror filling her as the face of Rolfe comes into focus, a winsome smile on his face.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Rolfe asked her, turning away from the battlefield to face Lycana. He looked like he always had, his reddish-auburn hair burning bright in the daylight, his delicate skin always a dark orange hue, burnt from the radiating sun that hung high overhead. The Packlands were stained with blood, wolf blood, and he was smiling. The bastard was smiling!

“I know how this looks.” Rolfe’s words rang in her ears as he felt him kneel next to her, take in her naked form with his lustful eyes. “I need you…” Lycana remained paralyzed in fear, or was it the poison? What was happening to her!? Rolfe traced his fingers over her flesh as she fought to free herself from her invisible restraints. “They don’t care about us.” his words were a whisper in her ear, his hot breath on her skin. “You’ll see. What I’ve done… cannot be undone, there is no going back.”

Rolfe tentatively backed away from her, the dagger still in his hand, her blood dripping off it. Her eyes went to his face as she watched in horror while pieces began to peel back and shred free. Reika! Her banshee scream! If he felt any pain, his disposition did not show it. Instead, he smiled. That fucking smile… “You defied the Gods.” Rolfe continued. “You proved to me what I knew all along, we don’t need them... they need us!” The dagger fell from his fingers, clanking loudly to the ground as his hand began to turn to dust.

“I love you, Lycana.” Rolfe solemnly declared, his eyes almost full of regret. “I’ve always loved you. Even when I was with Reika. I knew you didn’t feel the same way about me, but I still thought… I mean, I hoped… maybe after this, you would’ve seen me in a different light.”

Rolfe went to step forward but, instead, fell to his knees as his feet were the next part of his body to vanish into oblivion. It was like Lycana was watching him being torn apart, piece-by-piece, in slow motion. “You should’ve been with me, we should’ve been together.” Rolfe gritted his teeth in frustration. “Marf was never worthy of you! That’s why I had to show you the type of man he is! That’s why the Djinn…” Rolfe toppled over, apparently in pain now. When he looked up, half the flesh from his face was missing and all that was left was the blood and bone underneath.

Again, that crooked smile.

“Don’t let my death be in vain, Lycana.” Rolfe pleaded with her. “All we’ve ever wanted is our freedom, you know that. The Gods will never grant us that, not without a fight; not without us showing a unified front. I’ve done all that I can, now it’s your turn. Take up the mantle, finish my work. Become the leader that we deserve...”

Rolfe’s body cracked, twisted, and turned inward. Like watching someone knead a piece of dough, his body contorted in ways that didn’t seem humanly possible. He wasn’t smiling anymore; he was screaming. A blood curdling scream almost like… a banshee scream. There was nothing left to even try and identify him, his body turned into a puddle of blood, pus, and guts. Lycana might’ve been smiling at this memory, were it not for the fact that the pool of crimson liquid seemed to be moving; reshaping itself. Bones cracked together, a body rose from the gore of what used to be Rolfe’s body, and the Lich came to stand in front of her once more.

“Did you really think you could escape me, Tavora?” the Lich asked, floating near her. She was still frozen, damn it… that Gorgon blood flowing through her veins, leaving her helpless. His boney fingers stretched out, clinching her jaw and forcing her gaze into his eyeless socket. All she saw was darkness, endless darkness.

“You will never be rid of me, dear sister.” the words clacked together as his jaw jutted back and forth. “You’ve simply, delayed the inevitable. So, enjoy your time on this Earth while you can, because when I rise up once again… I will leave nothing in my wake.”

He forcefully threw her head back as he rose to his feet, raising his arms into the air as the ground shook all around her. The sky darkened as skeletal hands extended out from underneath the ground, scratching and clawing their way to the surface. “And I looked, and behold a pale horse: and his name that sat on him was Death…” the Lich quoted, screaming towards the heavens as he reveled in his undead creations. “…and Hell followed with him.” Eadon lowered his gaze, his army of zombies surrounding him.

“I will kill everyone you’ve ever held dear Tavora.” the Lich declared, a bloodthirsty sneer creeping across his lips. “And when you’ve lost everyone and everything, then… and ONLY then… will I end your suffering. And oh, how you will suffer, Tavora; the plans I have for you…”

She felt the silent scream rising in her throat......

…..... as she sits up, safe and secure in the bed with Marf. Body drenched with cold sweat, her skin shines in the soft moonlight, her clothing clinging to her as she picks at it, trying to steady her racing heart and frayed nerves.

She glances to the side, where Marf still slumbers peacefully, the events taking a toll on him as well, allowing him to sleep through her nightmare. He had been good to her, not pressing her for more than she was willing to tell. He had told her of the Djinn, and how he had defeated her, and the events that had happened while she was just an empty husk being lugged about. They had all saved her life. And he had been willing to give his for her.

They had always said they would do anything for one another... and he had been about to prove it.

Wide awake now, she slides slowly from the bed and pads down the stairs, thinking that maybe some chamomile tea would soothe her enough to relax at the very least. Instead, she finds herself drawn to the window, her eyes flicking up to stare at the moon.

The look of utter relief on his face when he had seen her walking under her own power would have told her everything she needed to know of how close to death she had skirted, had she not been in the In Between with.... She shudders. The Lich. Eadon. Her step brother. The embodiment of pure evil, who had gotten the blame put on her. Had spoken so clearly, and so precisely about what he saw that she had... Well. It was all in the past now. There wasn’t anything she could do. Terror had stolen her words that night. Circumstance had planted false evidence. And she would forever be painted in the tainted colors of a murderer.

But of course, she was one... wasn’t she?

She had killed the doctor. She could still feel it, the red haze dropping over her vision as she saw a moment and took it, lashing out, just wanting the days of pain and shock treatments to end. She didn’t know what kind of place she had been in, but she was willing to bet it wasn’t ‘normal’. Then again, nothing in her life was.

Then had come Cate and.... well. That was an even longer story.

She hadn't spoken much to Damien beyond thanking him again. He had avoided her, and she couldn’t blame him. They had seen a lot more of each other than intended, the bonds of hatred broken into whatever the hell was going on now. She had not even mentioned her encounter with the Lich. She cringed to think of having another talk with him so soon after being so exposed to one another but... he had to know. He had experienced him as well. Perhaps if they both worked together.... She didn’t know. Her mind, her body, her very soul was exhausted.

He had seen why she wrestled. That burning pit of rage pushing her on and on. But it was never quite sated. That voice that said maybe if she just pushed a little harder... Showed the world that her past didn’t control her, never submitting to the pain....

She and Marf had stepped through the portal Arcana had called up and gone home, had a very quiet night, until she had collapsed into the bed early and passed out. Apparently almost dying really took a lot out of you.

A gentle hand comes down on her shoulder, making her nearly leap out of her skin as she whirls around. She stares into his bold blue eyes, relaxing now that the irrational fear that it was the Lich was erased. She had not even sensed him coming, which wasn’t like her.

“Hey, it's just me. Are you okay?” he quietly asks, pulling his hand back, concern clear in his gaze. She nods, then stops. She wasn’t. Why not just be truthful? “I will be. I had a nightmare, about Rolfe and the Lich... The In Between.” her voice trails off as a little tremor fills it. Marf wanted to ask about everything that had happened, even if he didn’t quite understand the where or the what's, but he knew she would explain everything in due time, when she was ready. “It was just a nightmare, you’re safe now.”

She knew what he was doing. Just as she knew she couldn’t avoid it forever. Just talking about it while it was so fresh, brought fifty shades of panic stampeding through her bloodstream. “Thank you... For everything.” She pauses, trying to explain without going too far into things, but still wanting him to know she trusted him enough with it all. “I know I was vague yesterday... I’m still kind of sorting it out for myself. Between Rolfe... and Reika being a banshee... everything that went on with Damien getting into my head and seeing things... and then my stepbrother being the Lich, and the rest... it's all just... overwhelming.”

He gently taps a finger to her lips, silencing her. “You don’t have to rush to tell me anything Lycana. I know you will when you're ready. That was a lot of shit... I still can't believe Reika's a banshee and....”

“Why would you have sacrificed yourself for me?”

She blurts it out, looking horrified at herself. She flushes slightly. “Damien, I could see flashes of memory when he touched me and I... I saw that... and... well why?”

Marf sucks in a careful breath before he answers her question with one of his own.

“Would you have done the same for me?”

“I asked.....”

“Would you have done the same for me?”

“Of course, I would have, but....”

“Why?”

“Why........?”

“Why would you have done it?”

“Because I.............”

She stops, the silence hanging between them, heavy for a solid minute. Marf stares at her for a moment longer while she finally locks eyes with him.

“Because what?”

“Because I... I.... I....” she stammers to a halt once more, swallowing the words that seem to be trapped in her throat.

He studies her face, then he leans in and places a firm kiss upon her soft lips, lingering there as her eyes go wide as saucers. He pulls back and smirks.

“.....that’s why.”

She gapes at him, her mind going completely blank, any thoughts flying right out the window with his action. She struggles to bring anything remotely resembling coherency together and manages nothing more than to blink in confusion at him.

Small crunching noises break their gaze, as they both look towards the doorway of the kitchen to see Reika, popping chips into her mouth.

“You both have cooties now.” she informs them around a mouth full of Doritos.

Marf looks over at Reika and smirks before raising a finger to his mouth and giving her a light shhhh. He winks and turns back to Lycana who appears to be mortified at Reika being there. Their eyes meet once more, as a soft smile crosses his features. He backs away, and leaves the room, no more words spoken, leaving Lycana staring after him, her fingers lifting to her lips. What the hell had just happened?

“Can we make waffles? You promised but we never did.”

“Waffles.”

Lycana absently agrees... because making waffles at 3:37am was the most normal part of her life right now.

____________________________________________________________________________________

“You don’t like when things are spun around on you, do you Page?

It pisses you off.

For a man who lives and breathes doing it to others, he cannot stand to see it done against him.

You sit and try so desperately to spin them back to fit your agenda, hoping to turn the tide back in your favor, brush it under the rug and pretend your little faux pas never happened. Or that it was a carefully laid trap that they blundered into.

And that is where a lot of your opponents, seem to mess up... Arguing back with you, instead of just sitting back, and enjoying the view of you dangling in the air like a wind spinner, struggling to recover.

Because THAT Chris, is entertaining as fuck. I’ve always loved when it happens.

You must be so used to being the one who takes what people say and do, and using it to your advantage, trying to make things out of nothing. Trying to make it appear in a way that suits your needs, rather than how it went down. Getting some serious kicks out of seeing people scramble to recover in their promos back to you, trying to recover from your verbal tricks, knowing that if they try to spin that right round, they are likely to trip. Gloating because you think you have the upper hand.

How does it feel to be the one on the receiving end of all this, this go round?

I hope you didn’t think what I sent your way, was all that I had.... because Mr. Page, I have only just begun with you.

Let's get back to that fun hypocrisy train, shall we?

Oooooh, you didn’t think you could escape from that did you? Oh no, Page. You have so much more to play with here. You laid out that gargantuan promo for me, offering up so many tasty treats, how could I not partake? You like to yammer your mouth around so much on other people, calling them hypocrites, when you are the damned King himself of such things. Now, I already pointed one instance out in my last promo, but I didn’t want to totally unload on you all at once.

Where would the fun in that be? I wanted to take my time, savor the foreplay with you. Let you think that I missed a few things... Perhaps jump the gun and breathe a little sigh of relief that it wasn’t worse. Hmm, if you did, you do not know me as well as you think you do.

“Has anyone ever told you that you playing the “I know what you are going to say” card is dull as fuck?”

Hey Chris, remember this one?

I think you like this little Corey Smith game as you call it, a lot more than you want to let on. For someone who thinks its tiresome and boring, you do it an awful lot yourself. Let’s ignore the first instance where I showed you already fucked yourself on that and move on to some more, shall we?

“I am going to anticipate what you have to say and how you are going to say it;”

How are you going to try and harp on me, when you literally said this in your first promo against me? I mean, I am pretty damn sure that what I heard... was you playing that game you hate. Again. But don’t think I stopped there, oh no. I didn’t want you to try and wave away anything, so I was kind enough to go back and show you yet another instance where you... did the exact same fucking thing. Third times the charm and all that, right?

“Sidebar- anyone else finds humor in a member of the Waters clan showing up in R.L.’s first promo released against me? No? Me neither considering I have already called that shot before it happened. Way to fall into the trap face fucking first like a stupid cunt cake.”

Lookie there! There is a nice little gem that you used against my old buddy R.L. Edgar. And that’s not even all of them, but we wouldn’t want to... beat a dead horse now, would we?

I called it! I called it! Damn Page. We hear those words come out of your mouth all the time, so before you try and point fingers, better make sure your hands are clean, otherwise, someone might just pick up on it, set you up, and just have to call you out on it. Like... well, me!

Way to fall face first into MY fucking trap.

Did you really think I would be stupid enough to say shit like that to you without a reason behind it? Please tell me YOU aren't that dumb! Clearly you thought I lacked the brain capacity and took it at face value. Surprise surprise, Mr. Page. That is something you brag about all the time is it not? Setting traps in your promo work that you put out, seeing if you could snare your victim. I have learned to set little landmines of my own, and you sir... did not see it coming. I wanted to see if I could fool you using your own set of tricks, and damn if you didn’t play right into my hands.

Are you sweating yet?

I told you I’ve been watching.

Are we having fun yet, or what!? I know I am!

Welcome to the way I play Page. I warned you that I had my eye on you, you knew that I was watching you. You should have been aware that I would see how you handled each person put before you. Learn your habits, the little methods you use over and over again, because they work for you. Until someone throws a wrench in them, and bring all the flaws to light.

You are predictable in your methods. You have a pattern with how you approach things, one easily learned if you are mindful enough to the particular facets, and oh Chris... am I ever a whore for the details! I saw all the little discrepancies in your work, little boo boos made with enough frequency to hone in on, the same characteristics you like to get on people about... Like R.L. Like me. And oh... like the one in line after me, Cent.

“The ones where he uses precious airtime, much like a majority of you fucktards do, trying to sell us on “you are going to say this or that” nonsense because the one thing you can expect from Chris Page is to expect the unexpected.”

Damn there it is again.

Guess you aren't so unique after all, eh?

You underestimated me Page. I’m not like the rest.

Instead of just leaping on you, and ripping away at your accomplishments and things people think you failed at, I had decided to come for you another a way. A new way. MY way. I came to break you fucking down. I see the little hairlines fractures in your armor. I am here to dig my nails in and pry them open, expose your disgusting, tarnished, tarry goo of an interior to the world. Share your darkest hidden, little secrets. Rip open your ribcage and show once and for all... there is just an empty spot where your spine is supposed to be.

Because deep down in there, Chris Page is nothing but a coward.

Yeah, I said it. You know why? Because for all the hours you drone on and on, playing your mind games and talking about how people are not up to your level. How you practically get a hard on hearing yourself talk, because you think you are that big of a draw. For all the flaws, mistakes, and blunders you point out about on almost every single person on this illustrious roster... You cannot admit to you own when you make them.

You immediately backpedal, trying to throw as much on top of the flames as you can, terrified of being burned, desperate to cover up your mishaps.... Instead of owning up to them.

You see it as a weakness. I see it as strength.

A strength, that you don’t have. Whenever something you have said is proved to be fallacy, you turn a bright yellow, and start squawking, in a way that can only be perceived as panic. You are terrified of getting lost in the hustle and bustle of new stars arriving. You keep slapping new coats of paint on the same old used up armor, in hopes it will get you on through to the next, instead of realizing that you need to FIX and CHANGE things.

Grow some balls and OWN your shit Page.

You’ve been surviving on pure luck and calling it talent.

And being that workhorse you are so proud of being, that never stops, that keeps facing challenge after challenge? That luck was running a pretty fine line, and it's about to hit a complete roadblock when you come up on one of the other workhorses in the XWF.

Me.

As you well know, I rarely miss a Warfare, and am always at hand for pay per views and most special shows. Willing to take on whoever wants to try their hand at getting in the ring with me. I don’t care who it, I show up and work my ass off in that ring. I have put in the time. I have put in the blood, sweat, and tears to earn the spot I now occupy within the federation. If you saw that match with Alias, nobody can deny that it was a hard-fought win.

I EARNED this Xtreme Title.

Much like you mentioned to Big D about yourself and the Uni....

“Unlike you, I earned my Championship.”

Oh... Oh wait, except, there was also this little bit that you told Robert Main....

“I mean sure I did pay to have your skull cracked so I could slide into your spot at Snow Job”

You know, I have to say that sure sounds a hell of a lot more like stealing a spot than earning it. And there it is Page... I DESERVE this. You, like a petulant toddler, could not be bothered to earn your spot. You had to concoct a plan, to knock Main out, so that you could be a pitiful little crook and take his slot to go for the gold. You bought your way in by paying Thunder Knuckles to bring that bat down on Main’s skull. Seems to me you worried about having the skills to get to where you needed to be, for all you scream about being the best.

Meanwhile, when Main made his way back, you immediately started throwing around that you would have a match with him, but if he wanted a title opportunity, he would have to earn it just like everybody else.

Pot, meet kettle.

AGAIN.

You know, I guess there is only one thing to say about all that.

“The simple answer rests with you not having the goods to back up that big ass mouth of yours my dear friend.”

Aren't you glad all eyes are on us Page? Are you enjoying getting verbally eviscerated as much as I'm loving bringing all this to light? Too bad about that glass ceiling of limits we have for these promos huh? I know I was supposed to be thanking my lucky stars to have them in place, but I’m sorry to tell you that having a damned good time, and could do this many times over!

Aren't you thrilled that you selected me to face you at Anarchy?

You pissed me off Page, and now you get to reap everything that comes along with it.

For all those ‘praising’ words coming from your puckered lips, aimed at the curve of my left ass cheek... There are a million more insults sitting behind them. And I’m not talking about us going back and forth right now during this match. I'm talking about all the times you laughed at The Dissentients taking a match. All the times, you had my name in your mouth using me as a weapon... only to shit on me when it was convenient for you. And you wonder why I don’t trust your offer to join BOB?

You were all over R.L. Edgar making fun of the way I beat him in the Tag Turmoil with an inside cradle... while calling said move flukey, and waving it off.

My win over Alias? Pssh. He said he put two cages around to keep Marf out, which presented such a fun challenge but... there's another flukey win.

My win over Betsy? Oh, he never mentioned it but let me guess. ‘Flukey because the belt came into play.’

But that’s what you do isn't it? You just sit there, and run your mouth putting down as many people as you possibly can. Even those you claim that you admire. Even those that you have your eye on for BOB. Even those that you claim have talent and are amazing headliners. I am not the only one you have praised while simultaneously dumping a load on when it was convenient for you, am I?

“I can give two fucks about you and that case; reality is your ONLY opponent of merit since I tossed your ass out of the High Stakes Battle Royale was King Doc, so in my eyes, you have ONE key victory in what? Six, seven months?”

Such words to Alias about his ‘only victory in his XWF career that remotely matters’! It doesn’t matter who he went through, or how many, they are were absolutely not worth even mentioning or thinking about. The rest were just the scum of the roster, the ones nobody gives a shit about, right Page? Because Alias beat nothing but losers, people who don’t matter at all, except Doc....

But this isn't about ALIAS.

Whoops Atara. Guess where you fall in?

Sorry dove! You are just an afterthought. Nobody that remotely matters. It appears that Chris doesn’t think you amount to so much after all!

But then Chris Page never thinks much of anybody but himself unless it suits him.

Chris Page is a master manipulator who would throw anyone under the bus just to get a win or even get ahead, even if they are one of his own.

Chris Page is a spineless piece of shit, who needs to be taken down more than a few notches.

Chris Page can go fuck himself if he thinks that I would trust him for a single heartbeat.

Watching how you treat the people who fall under your wing is despicable and disgusting, and that’s coming from me... The Dark Vixen of Violence. I fucking hate Atara. I’ve never hidden that, and even I see an issue with this. Did you even REMEMBER that Atara faced Alias? Or did you actually think about that match, and make a conscious decision to drop your pants and shit on top of her? To sit there and call her not worth mentioning and not of merit?

Damn dude, and that’s someone you bring into the fold claiming to like? More power to her for being able to look beyond being treated like a piece of trash, and still willing to lap up whatever you are willing to offer her I suppose. Pretty pitiful if you ask me. Poor sad puppy, coming to lick the hand that strikes them, so eager for validation.

I don’t need any of that from you, or any of the rest of your clan.

I’m glad you think you made me a joke... because it is one that is all on you. I don’t know what it is with you, that makes you think that you are the only one who can spin a tale, who can lie their ass off, who can talk about false things with a sparkle in their eye to give them truth.

Because you ate up everything I said and then some.

Did you not happen to see the hashtag Marf has been throwing up? Did you think for a damn moment that he and I would be ANYWHERE other than the same page? Did you think I didn’t join in because I didn’t agree with him? That I might have a soft spot somewhere in me for you? DID YOU REALLY THINK THAT I WOULD NOT BE STANDING ONE HUNDRED FUCKING PERCENT BY HIS SIDE IN THIS FIGHT?!

Congratulations, you egotistical ass, for missing something so blatantly right before you, and before every single other member of the Brotherhood of Bitches.

The only reason I have not shared that sentiment out loud, was so that you would actually believe that I might entertain the notion of joining BOB. But you know what? I don’t have to hold it back any longer.

#FuckBOB

After every damn thing that has happened between myself and Marf and BOB over the months, you truly bought into my sweet little mewlings about why BOB would not accept the Dissentients? Even after I said the only reason I was going to keep that line open, was because YOU saw something in me?

HOLLLLY SHIT PAGE!

Not everybody's ego is as big as yours!

I don’t give a shit what you think about me. Marf. Corey. Apex. Alias. Duke. Charlie Nickles ninety-two personalities. Rel’s Mr Fluffy friend. Or Audrey 2.

The only thing I give a shit about, is getting you in that ring and making you pay for being such a loathsome, self-sustaining little cunt.

Paybacks are hell... and I'm coming fully invested to give you everything that you should have gotten for a long time now. Let me tell you... I hate R.L. Edgar. I hate Demos. I hate Corey.... and I would back them and literally any other against you.

Because I hate you even more.

But don’t think this will be the one and only time we meet... I’m sure there will be plenty others. Because I am telling you right now Mr. Page... the hashtag is only the start. People pick up the cry. People start seeing what you are doing and why, and they join in because they are tired of it all too. You had better watch, where you least expect things... because I have plans for you and the rest of your merry band of dickheads, especially Thunder Knuckles.

Far be it from me to spoil the surprise though... You might think you know, maybe you can try to guess. But you don’t. Because this one? This one's nice and close to the Dissentients hearts. You can listen to the rumors- I've started some myself. The whispers. But you will still fail when it matters most... because I am also putting some ideas out into the world to get back to you... So, you will never know what it will be. True... or false.

Good luck sorting through them all.

Good job eating up everything I fed you. You are a good teacher after all, I guess!

I’m the one you thought you could contain.

I’m the one you thought you could fool.

I’m the one you thought you could screw over.

You can’t.

I’m Ly-Fucking-Cana.

The one who will put you down.”