With a vague wave of a hand, Lycana was subsequently dismissed without another glance in her direction.

Lycana shakes her head sharply trying to clear the fog, coming out of the memory slowly. She looks at the shirt she holds in her hand, snapping it in the air to smooth it out, before carefully folding it and placing it on the pile of other neatly arranged clothing.

She had not, in fact, learned to control her anger all that well. She would be the first to admit that much. The bubbling cauldron in the pit of her stomach just grew more acidic, churning with venom that leeched out into her very bones, turning her into what she was.

Or what she had been?

Perhaps joining the XWF really had done what she had wanted it to. She had started this career to try and control the anger, to have an outlet for it, to make a living hurting people. To give and get pain. It had not seemed to work at first, but now... now she seemed to have a better grasp on her temper. Oh she would slit a throat as soon as look at someone but... She didn’t know when the tide had started to turn, but she was not the same person who had first stepped through the ropes seven months or so ago at High Stakes. And one of the main reasons to thank for that was...

Marf.

The one person she was trying to keep OFF of her mind after what had happened.

Not that that was an easy feat, considering they lived together. Spent most days together. Slept in the same bed together.

And yet somehow, their dynamic remained relatively unchanged. There was no awkwardness, no small talk, none of that sort of business. They had just fallen right back into the old pattern of things, gone about their lives, easy affection unchanged despite....

The kiss.

Lycana pauses in her actions once more, a pair of socks forgotten in her hand. It was only moments like now, when the memory crept in, and she fell into the void that was her own head, where it started to get complicated. Her overthinking kicked into overdrive and well, she started inspecting it from every possible angle she could. What she should do, is actually open her mouth and bring it up. See where he stood, tell him where she stood.

Not that she knew herself.

Lycana had done many things in her life that were probably scary to most. Taking on the Harbinger. The wolf war. Walking down that ramp to the ring knowing she was about to get her ass beat to within an inch of her life and not caring. Slitting her own arms to give blood power to the magic. Dancing in the flames.

All preferable to this. This shit was terrifying.

Every time she thought she might have a damn handle on it, another little doubt would creep in and start tugging on her psyche, whispering about all the things that were flawed within her perspective. That she was seeing more than she should. That she wasn’t seeing enough. Hell, perhaps she had even imagined the whole damn thing and she was literally going crazy.

He hadn't said a word.

So maybe she actually was going crazy?

Could her mind have conjured that scene up?

That would be crazy.

So instead, she just kept her mouth shut and acted like nothing had happened. As did he. With a soft sigh she lifts one of his shirts, holding it close to her heart. They couldn’t avoid it forever. Could they? She didn’t know. The days were fine but the nights....? Well. Technically they were fine too. Nothing had changed. But somehow that small space between them in the bed yawned open like a damn ocean as she lay awake and let the thoughts eat away at her sanity.

Why did this occupy so much of her mind? It was, after all, just a kiss.

A kiss from Marf.

Fuck.

Lycana mentally smacks herself in the face as she shoves clothing in duffel bags, packing them neatly to get ready for...

“A camping trip. You?”

She jumps, dropping the stack of clothing she was holding as she turned to face one of the last people she wanted to be face to face with, especially in the state of mind she was in right now. “Fuck Damien!”

Damien stood in the doorway, surveying the scene with a confused eye, taking in the duffel bags and scattered pieces of fabric. “I never pictured you as the back to nature type Tavora... Despite the whole, wolfy running in the woods thing and all.” he remarks as he takes a few steps into the room, causing her to stiffen a little with unease. “I only came to talk, I figured after everything we should at least do that.” he pauses. “Get... all of it out into the open.”

“And before you ask, Reika let me in and is quite excited about this adventure you three, I assume....?” at Lycana’s nod he continues. “Are going on.” Damien approaches even further, noting her body language, but this time, taking no joy in it as he once would have. He had not meant for any of that to happen, to fall into her mind and dig around in her deepest memories. Honestly, he felt lucky that he had escaped without seeing any more, because from the looks of it, her past had been quite... well, dark to say the least. It had explained a lot about her, as his own was the same shade. While they had taken different paths on who they would become, he supposed he could at least understand a little bit why she threw up that ice queen armor.

“Camping will be... it’ll be.... great. Fun even.” Lycana forces out, slowing crouching to pick up the fallen pieces of laundry, placing the pile on the bed and starting to refold them once more, studiously avoiding eye contact with Damien. “Fun.” She glances up from under her lashes to see his extremely sardonic expression and can’t suppress a soft snort of her own. “Okay fine, I’m not looking forward to it. But Reika wanted to go and... well, Marf promised, so.”

“Have you told him?” he allows his lips to curve upwards as she nearly snaps her neck, deer in the headlights look on full display before she drops it again, pairing socks with a fervor that had not been there before. “I don’t know what you're talking about.”

“Because that’s not the most overused line in history.” he throws at her, earning the shorts she held a frown, and a rather violent stuffing into their home for the trip. “I saw what I saw, but I also felt things Tavora.” he studies her as she aggressively packs the bags, yanking the zipper on one so hard he thought she might rip it right off. It would have been entertaining if he didn’t know she was about to jump out of her skin. “Add in the fact that he...”

“Drop it. Drop it, Damien. Can’t we talk about something easier like....”

“Like what? Your family getting murdered and you getting blamed for it?”

Well, when he put it that way... it didn’t sound like an easier subject.

“How about the fact that you were abused in a home, stolen from said home by an unhinged Goddess and raised to be a weapon of sorts?”

Unhinged was a little harsh if you asked her.

“Or how about the reason why you wrestle is to suppress your inner pain, while the physical pain makes you feel alive because the rest of you had pretty much been deadened to the world?”

“What are you, my shrink?” she growls at him as she finishes, heaving the second duffel bag to the side so she could plop onto the bed with a frown. “True, isn't it?” he crosses his arms and rests a hip against the nearby nightstand. “I’m flattered that you think I’m a weapon.” He stares at her as she lifts one shoulder in a delicate shrug, feeling an unwilling pull at the corners of his mouth as he shakes his head. “Thats what you took out of this? You are something else... It was a lot easier to hate you, you know. When you were just a cold bitch. Or I thought you were one.”

“People see what they want to see, believe what they want to believe.” her eyes glitter with a small amount of humor. “And also, what I feel like showing them. Most people don’t get to see the other side, and I prefer it that way” her voice trails off. “Because you feel vulnerable.” Damien surmises, noting the quick glare shot his way with satisfaction. He might not hate her anymore, but he still enjoyed pushing all her buttons to see her discomfited.

“Holy fuck Damien... Will you quit the psych eval? Is that why you came here?” her fingertips rise to her temples. “Let's talk about XWF, alright? The simple fact of the matter is, I enjoy it. I like it. I get a thrill out of it. Its adrenaline. Yeah, I live for the pain and I live for the challenge. I don’t really think we need to dig much deeper than that.”

“You just don’t want to.” he points out. “There's that too.” she readily agrees. “I don’t. I have enough on my plate with everything going on and ...”

“I got Reika a Rainbow Brite sleeping bag. Do you think six bag of marshmallows is enough? I got eight but...” Marf comes to a stop, his arms laden with bags of the soft confection, glaring at Damien. “Fucking hell, this dipshit again?” Damien arches a brow slowly. “You’re welcome for saving your ‘friend’.” he drawls, putting emphasis on the word as Lycana gives him the stink eye. “I already thanked you.” Marf snorts, dropping everything on the bed, leaving Lycana in a small sea of Jet-Puffed. “You also threatened to remove my head, amongst other obscenities.”

“You heard that, did you?” Marf makes a face with a small nonchalant hand gesture of admittance, not denying the statement. “I did.” Damien tells him, a wry grin curling his mouth. “Pretty damned creative, I have to admit. I especially liked the one with the jumper cables and Tim Horton’s coffee....”

“That one was pretty good, wasn’t it?” a chuckle rumbles from Marf’s chest, as an answering one comes from Damien. They begin discussing the merits of coffee as a conductor, as Lycana looks back and forth in disbelief. “What in the hell is going on here?”

From at each other's throats to.... friendly?

“I just feel like any liquid would do.” Damien points out. “Yeah, but scalding hot coffee? C’mon bro, that would just make it hurt that much worse.” Marf scoffs. “I suppose you're right; I don’t do this sort of torture shit you know...”

“BRO?!”

Just when she has thought her life couldn’t get much stranger... Come to think of it, she assumed that a lot. And life always came around and proved her wrong. Why did she tempt the universe again? Oh yeah... she was crazy. Clearly. That was the only answer she could come up with. “Next thing you know, we will all be joining hands and singing Hotel California around the campfire with the Lich when he comes to kill me again...” she mutters.

“The Lich? You saw him?! Did you?” Damien cuts her off. “In the In Between. He’s....” she admits, trying to formulate the best way to drop this on them. “He’s my.... stepbrother.”

Bombs away.

“HE IS YOUR WHAT?!” they both bellowed at her.

Well, this was going superbly if she did say so herself.

“My stepbrother. Don’t ask me how he turned into a Lich King, or why he calls himself Eadon. That’s not his name. But yeah, he projected himself to me, and it took me a little bit to recognize him but his eyes...” she shudders at the memory of his cold, silver gray eyes. “I can never forget him staring at me..” her voice trails off, before she clears her throat, pulling herself together. “He can raise the dead, and he is coming for me, just like you said Damien.”

“What exactly happened to you?” Damien starts, cutting eyes over to Marf, not knowing how much he knew. “You mean after the murders? It’s a long story...” Lycana evades, standing up to start gathering the many bags of marshmallows to go with the rest of the s’mores ingredients. “Sounds like it would be just fine told over a campfire. We know how you love camping.” Marf said, a slight edge in his voice telling her this was his way of getting back at her for the swears in front of Reika incident. “I won't be there to hear it then.” Damien complains.

“Sure you will!” a voice pipes up from the doorway.

Reika skips into the room, jumping and landing in the center of the bed with a bounce. “Damien is coming with us!” she announces.

“I’m WHAT?!”

“He’s WHAT?”

“He’s coming with us. Oooooh marshmallows!” Lycana rescues the bag from Reika’s greedy hands, adding it to the precarious stack she already had in her arms. “I don’t think he...” she begins, as thunderstorms begin to dance across the blondes face, her mouth turning downward, her brows slamming into angry slashes above her dangerously flashing eyes. “He doesn’t want to come make s’mores with us?” her voice rises in pitch with each word uttered, as the rest of their eyes widen, having been privy to her fit of temper on the battlefield during the werewolf war.

“I do! Yes! Camping! Ahhhhh... It's... my.... favorite?” Damien casts his eyes about, seeing no way out. The storm passes, Reika’s sunshiney disposition coming back as she hops off the bed and twirls to the door once more. “Lycana! Marf got me a Rainbow Brite sleeping bag! Come see!”

“I will, I’ll be right there.” she says to absolutely nothing because Reika is long gone, already galloping down the stairs with her excitement. “You two deal with this daily?” Damien rubs a hand over his face. “Parenthood.” Lycana smiles. “Makes taking the trash like Main and Caedus out feel like a walk in the park.” Marf hoists a bag onto his shoulder. Lycana shoves the other at Damien with her elbow, still hanging onto the marshmallows.

“Well, you're lucky I pack extra. You fit into Marf’s clothes. Let’s go.”

Damien simply lifts the bag, and follows the two of them towards their camping adventure.

____________________________________________________________________________________

The crowd fills the room, chattering merrily at this rare opportunity. She barely spoke out with public opportunities, and never at a press conference where all could attend so openly! A door on the side of the room opens, and Lycana steps through, gliding gracefully up the steps of the stage, Marf close behind. The Xtreme title belt was snug upon his shoulder, gleaming under the lighting, sending beautiful fragments shimmering around, blessing each surface they touch with their brilliance.

The crowd presses forward, their early cacophony dimming down to a quiet hush as she approaches the podium and takes her place, Marf flanking her, his beefy arms crossed, biceps bulging in glorious muscularity, providing a perfect foil to her petite frame. She shuffles her papers, making sure her speech was fully in order, tapping them into a neat bundle as she sets them atop the podium.

She looks back at Marf, who offers her a serene smile, the calming balm to her soul, like the whispering kiss of a flower petal as the dew slides across it in the morning sun. She reaches out and touches her belt, that she had just retained against Chronic Chris Page. With an expression of pure charm and love, she turns back to the crowd before her.

She lightly bounces a finger off of the microphone, testing to see if it was on, as a muffled sound sings out into the air, not hurting anyone's ears due to the sheer gentleness of her touch. She clears her throat lightly, in readiness for what she planned to accomplish here. She looks out over the gathering of people standing before her, who all lean in, in hushed silence for her reaction to her win...

With her giggling laughter mixing with Marf’s deep chuckling rising to the rafters, Lycana skips back to the door, and within a moment, the Dissentients are gone.

____________________________________________________________________________________

“One.

Two.

Three.

The count heard around the world on retro Anarchy this past Thursday night. It seems so simple. It happens nearly every match, the refs hand thumping against that canvas. But this was no ordinary night to begin with, and that third slap of the hand... was far from standard.

That third slap of the hand, had not been heard in nearly nine months. Almost nine, long months had come and gone. The echo of that hand, is going to haunt the mind of Chris Page for a long time to come.

Isn't it?

How does it feel Page? To know that I was the one who finally pinned the unpinnable? That Lycana... nothing more than a laughing stock, the one who didn’t live up to the hype, the one who wasn’t smart, the barely a step above Peter Gilmour.... was indeed, the one who ‘pulled off the upset of a lifetime’? That Lycana the joke, stepped into that ring, and not only held her own, but got the fucking three count over you?

Must feel pretty shitty for you.

The very thought gives my heart such fucking joy Page!

Oh, don’t worry Chris, I know Miss Fury will lick all your wounds, while tending that log of denial wedged firmly up your ass, and you will both come up with a beautiful list of excuses on why such a thing could have happened. A fluke maybe. Choo choo and all that jazz with the hypocrisy train, right?

It’s your thing, I get it.

To say I am looking forward to hearing what you have to say, is an absolute understatement. Let me tell you Chris, the eyes of the world were firmly locked on us leading up to that battle, and now? Now they are still locked on you... but in pity instead. You were so damned sure of yourself, waving me off as nothing more than a mere gnat buzzing about your face, but the very thing I warned you about happened. You got too cocky for your own good and your luck ran out.

The look on your face Chris, on your knees in that ring... when I tell you, seeing how shaken you were, the astonishment on your face, your stupefied gaze. It was even better than lifting the Xtreme title over my head, showing you what had eluded your grasp, the very thing you were so sure of, ripped away along with your streak.

Oh hey, the thought that my ‘flukey’ inside cradle has been the source of a couple ‘chronic’ upsets, tickled me so much, I went ahead and made it a finisher. Just for you!

There is blood in the water. BOBs blood.

It started with the Uni... Alias cashing in and taking your coveted prize away from you. The same night, Fury failed against Ruby. It continued with Anarchy, where you failed to get your slimy hands on the Xtreme. It will continue on into Savage, where Corey is poised and ready to sweep the TV away from Andre Dixon, and not much can please me more.

Not because its Corey, but merely because I am thoroughly into anything that has to do with you guys getting your asses kicked or a title taken away. I don’t really care who does it. I don’t really care who wears the gold, as long as it isn't a member of BOB. Spiteful of me? Sure is. I don’t give a shit either.

#FuckBOB

I hope Them No Good Bastards can feel the hot breath on the back of their necks... Because one of the benefits of me wearing this shiny bauble around my waist, is that after three weeks... The Dissentients will have a shot at the Tags once more. I can hear the derisive snorts. What makes Lycana think? I’ll tell you... It’s because that’s my goal. THAT is what I want. We will never stop until we take them away. And hey you never know... maybe we will get ‘lucky’, right? The suns been shining on my ass an awful lot in recent times.

And by my calculations, in five days, I will have that claim.

But for now, now I need to set my eyes on the match that is next on my docket. Where I continue to willingly skip my ass down ‘murder row’ without a damn care in the world. The irony in this, is that the ones the Dissentients are set to face, are ones who are just as hyped to take down the useless pieces of trash that form the Bitch Brigade as we are...

Apex.

Robert Main and Jim Caedus.

Well boys, I have to say... I was curious when you came knocking looking to throw a challenge in our direction. We do seem to have the same goal in mind, as it happens. The complete and utter destruction of every member of BOB. But still... there you were, throwing down that proverbial glove at the feet of the Dissentients. Of course we were going to pick it up! It's what we do my darlings! We don’t back down from anyone who wishes to step in the ring with us. The where, the what, and especially the who means very little to us.

Being veterans of this game, I imagine you have a long and illustrious past that you will be all too willing to regale (BORE) us with, even though what truly matters, is your current runs within the XWF. Regardless, I have heard much about both of you in my short time within these halls...

As you well know, Robert.

In fact, we have danced a small bit together, if you can even call it that. I’d barely call it much of anything really, much to my disappointment. We did not get to show each other much of what we wanted to during that battle royal. A dropkick here, a shoulder to the guts there, and it was over quick as that! Rather lackluster, wasn’t it?

Like most of your performances.

But not this... this, we have much less of a crowd to deal with. Safe to say, you will get that fight you were looking for with me. I hope you are still looking forward to it as much as I am, especially now that my landscape has changed even more since we first parlayed our pretty words back and forth two months ago.

I’m coming into this with much more momentum that that little Mayday event, while you... well. You aren't. You’re kinda in reverse.

But that’s okay Mr. Main, because I’m hoping that makes you a hell of a lot hungrier than you have shown yourself to be lately. You talked a big game, made all kinds of promises, and then faltered. Hell, let's be real... you came to a dead stop and got run the fuck over. I don’t want that to be the case here. I hope you actually bring the man everyone is supposed to be so scared of to that ring. The one I actually WANT to meet. I hope you are looking at me, wanting nothing more than to put me down.

Because I'm coming in with the same damn thing on my mind in regards to you.

I go willing into battle against all comers Mr. Main, with nary a qualm as I do it. As you scrutinize my past, I hope you look at that line of opponents that have been sent my way and realize... you, and your history don’t mean shit to me. I’ve faced bigger, and I’ve faced better. And now I can say I’ve beaten better than you. The numbers, the title history, none of that... means a damned thing when we get into that ring next Wednesday. The only thing I see, is the living breathing man, just another piece of meat to practice on. Another challenge to play with. Another ‘measuring stick’ to test out.

You know how I do things; I shouldn’t have to tell you...

But your partner...

Ahhh Jim Caedus.

We have yet to meet, but I can assure you the pleasure will be all mine once we step into the squared circle. I heard your name bandied about; I heard the whispers floating around the locker room. The praises. The warnings. And I was intrigued. So, I waited, and I watched, wanting to see what the hype was all about. Would he live up to everything he was supposed to be? Or would he turn out to be a dud, like so many of these returning warriors tended to be? Billed to be amazing, the saviors, only to fizzle out or not even spark at all. I had been disappointed far too many times not to be suspicious. Then, you dropped your first promo back with the company.

Oh Jimmy... May I call you that?

Jimmy... what would could have been!

The way you lit into everybody, was the purest notes of the most alluring melody.

Filled with obscenities and sexual innuendo... but I digress! Beguiling all the same, once one looks beyond all the grotty twaddle the pours forth en masse from your mouth and manages to pick out the pieces that are worth noting. Beggers can't be choosers I suppose.

Nobody was safe from your wrath! Demos! Chaos! Doc! Rel!

Especially my dearest little friend Corey! Oh... how you sunk your teeth into him. Methodically biting into his flesh and shredding each part. What was it you called him? ‘An insufferably waspy little cunt?’ I nearly swooned.

But here we are, standing across from one another, battle lines firmly drawn in the sand between us, and now you will turn that iniquitous mouth in my direction. I am, I admit, curious to see what you have to say about me now as opposed the little bit you have before. Oh sure, I did happen to see that both your and Main’s promos are ready and waiting for me, so I will be able to find that out soon enough.

Don’t worry my darling boy, you’ll find I don’t skirt the line with anything I do! I find that quite low.

I’m sure you will have a whole bunch to say about me, your tirade did seem to go on forever. Me the long-winded bitch indeed. Oh, honey, I hope you did you research and have been watching. Otherwise, you might find yourself stepping into a trap like Page did. I've become rather fond of snaring my prey and wrapping them up tight using their own words, despite my lack of excitement over producing these things. Perhaps you would ENJOY being tied up Mr. Caedus, given some of the things I’ve seen.

Now as for our big date...

I certainly hope you bring more than your mouth.

I’d imagine another loss would be quite hard to... swallow.

For both of you.

I hope you two weren't hoping for an easy go of it, and that’s why you decided to extend this wonderful little invitation. We won’t be the pushovers if that is what you expect. The Dissentients alone, love to get bloodied up, and together... together it's what we live for. Ours. Yours. His. Hers. We don’t give a shit. When we get in the ring, blood is spilled. We are both looking forward to this little adventure in the ring with you both, once we wade through the exhaustive piles of verbal shit we have to endure from the two of you, of course.

You can bring all you want, say anything... It doesn’t matter. I don’t really give a flying fuck just how special you think Apex is, NONE of you have proven that anyone should fear you. Each and every time you stepped up to the plate... you have fallen. So come with your precious weapons and thinly veiled mind games boys... It’ll be a hard lesson learned when you realize that when it comes to all this bullshit, I am nothing short of

Indestructible.”