She was about willing to bet on it.

The large Mahagony double doors to the room are pushed open by a slim young man, who gestures to Lycana to enter. She strides in, her eyes immediately going to the elegant figure in the bed, long dark blond hair tussled just so, arm artfully thrown over his eyes.

There it was.

How did she know he was faking it? Well, for one it was Dion. If it wasn’t filled with drama, he probably wouldn’t have much interest in it. The main reason though? He was a damn God, therefore he healed much faster than a mere mortal would. No matter how grievously he had been injured.

She dutifully inclines her head, eyes lowered to stare at the floor, waiting.

She struggles to keep her lips from twitching at the pitiful moan that comes from before her. “Oh, Lycana! Thank goodness you’re here!” Dion exalts. He really wasn’t the best actor she had ever encountered either, not that she would ever say a damn word. She simply takes that as her cue to move next to the large four poster, gaze flickering across at the other man seated in the armchair nearby.

Their eyes lock, mutual dislike simmering in the air between them. Lycana breaks first, inclining her head again in greeting to the Alpha of the packs. A heavily bandaged Roland merely gives a single bob in recognition before turning away from Lycana. She bares her teeth in a semblance of a smile, seething inside before her attention is drawn to Dionysus, who couldn’t stand to not have all eyes on him for more than four point seven seconds.

“It was terrible!” he moans, closing his eyes. Was that him peeking to be sure she was watching? “How did they even get in?” she responds, to the room at large. After a second of silence, realizing that Dion probably hadn't really concerned himself with the finer details of the attack, Roland clears his throat and begins to tell her the tale.

“There was... ah. A. Party.” the normally eloquent Roland starts dryly. Lycana’s eyebrow arcs upwards. She can only surmise what kind of party it was by the way he was speaking. “There were many invites sent out, and as you know, most who are invited by Dionysus attend. Some bring friends. The friends bring friends. You know how Dion likes to... ah. Be very welcoming to all those who wish to... ah... worship him.” Roland was trying to be tactful here.

“With a war brewing, you let whoever the hell showed up to the door, in for an orgy?”

Lycana, was not.

A sound that sounded suspiciously like a giggle could be heard from the bed. Both Roland and Lycana turn accusing eyes towards Dion, who is clearing holding back a smile as he stares off into the distance. Likely thinking back on the party that he was hurt so badly at, and nearly cost Roland his life. This stupid fuck. They look back at each other, a half second of understanding passing before they both remember their mutual dislike.

“Ahem. So, as I was saying. Many were invited to this PARTY. There were humans, a few witches and warlocks, a fairy or three, and the wolves. Everyone who arrived was searched by the security out front, and...”

“Not very well, clearly.” Lycana snarkily interjects.

Roland takes a few moments to glare at her in an annoyed manner. “Things might have gotten more lax than they had been. THAT has been taken care of, and the team that was on that night have been relieved of their duties.” He waits to see if he would be interrupted again, but she merely pastes on an over-the-top interested expression. “Thing were... ah... progressing, as usual with the party. There were refreshments for people to drink and... smoke. Most partook freely. Clothing was coming off those who wished. Then things... well, you know how things go with Dion’s festivities Lycana. I don’t have to get into the sordid details.”

“Hmph.” the noise comes from the bed, where ever the picture of depraved lunacy, Dion was looking grumpy with one hand under the blanket and... oh Jesus fucking...

Lycana rolls her eyes back to Roland who just looks like he wants to sink into the floor at this point. After all these years she’d have thought he be used to this sort of thing. “.......................so.... uh.....” Roland was really struggling along now. Lycana was actually starting to feel bad for him. Perhaps he had been knocked about the head a little bit as well. “I was trying to keep an eye on everything, as were the rest of the guardians, but they used the opportunity to draw in... close... to Dion, even under my watch. They produced daggers and were like wild animals, causing a lot of damage before we even got close. The blades, they weren't your average weapons. They seemed to pull some of your life from you.”

Lycana’s whole body stiffens at that, her mind rolling back to another being who pulled life force. “Did it glow blue” she spits out. “What?” he looks confused. “Did the weapons glow blue?” she says through gritted teeth. “Ah, no. Purple actually. They had a vague purple glow to them while they were in use, but you can look at them now and they appear to be just a typical dagger. I have no idea what they were made from...” he responds.

“I do.”

The sudden solemn voice has both of them looking to the bed once more. Dion, no longer playing with himself to everyone's relief, actually looks serious, causing Lycana some unease. Roland looks surprised. Apparently, he had not shared this information with his trusted Alpha.

“They were made of Stygian iron. It is a magical metal, which is capable of destroying the essence of about all it touches. Mortals, monsters, giants.... Gods. There were only a handful of these made, a long time ago. By Hephaestus, he is the God of Metalwork. They were borne to slay our enemies, and keep the people safe back when we were revered and honored. Once that time fell, all were gathered and the Immortals made a pact, that we would discard all the weapons made with it, in order to prevent them from getting into the wrong hands. They cannot be destroyed, and clearly someone did not keep their end of the bargain. Or were too loose lipped and blurted forth the location of these items. Only a few knew where they would be, those who were supposed to be ones of utmost trust and zero duplicity.”

He falls quiet as Lycana takes a step closer. “Was Tius one of the ones who....” she ponders. Dion shakes his head negatively. “Cly.... No... no... Cate killed him centuries ago! He had armor, and a sword made from this, but obviously he could not have done such things now.” Dion assures her. Lycana looks stupefied. Tius wasn’t dead as far as she knew... He was the reason behind the damn werewolf civil war. Cate had mentioned him in the present terms. Could that have been a lie on her behalf? Was Dion cocked out of his sanity? Her mind struggles to process everything as he continues on.

“But Tius is...” she starts.

“Cly... ‘He Who Shall Not Be Named’... was a blight on upon our lineage. I will not speak of him anymore!” Dion gets wild eyed as Roland rises to his feet in concern. Lycana holds her hands up, backing down on it in favor of getting the information about the attack. She would look into this at another time. She mentally adds it to the four thousand other things on there.

“This felt... stronger. Different somehow. There felt like there was more magic to it than just what was originally there. I almost thought that... well... I almost thought that it might actually kill me for a moment.” Dion looks with haunted eyes at Lycana. “Except, when it got that far I could feel the power ebb from it. It wasn’t quite enough, and by the time they realized that, it was too late. My guards had taken down a number of them.”

“How many?” she asks. “There were five. Five wolves all with daggers. Three fell under us, and two are still alive. One... well, I'm not sure you will get much out of her, she is not long for this world, but the other is well enough you might get some answers from. He will not speak to the rest of us, except to.... ah well, so you will have your work cut out for you.” Roland is the one to answer now. As he stops the room falls silent, everyone lost in their own thoughts.

Lycana starts tracing all the different paths. Between the not one, not two, but five damn specialized daggers... supercharged no less, the hinting that Tius might not even be real, the fact that they were bold enough to think their weapons would kill a God... There was just too much going on here to really nail anything down. She had to speak to the culprits.

She shifts position, placing her hands on the ornately carved footboard of the bed. “We will get to the bottom of this. You will release at least one of the weapons to me so that I may study it at my leisure?” she speaks to Dion. “Please.” she adds. “Yes yes... but Lycana, I thought you were going to stay and perhaps make me feel better?” the petulant tone was creeping back into his voice once more. Because of course it was. “You could tell me some more tales of your ahh... XXX?” “XWF.” “Yes that. You can tell me of all the brutality and violence you have endured during your exploits at the X.... X.... that wonderful wrestling federation.”

Remembering quite well the results of her giving him the details of her match with Marf, AND what had already happened previously, Lycana tilts her head. “Perhaps later? Since Roland said I might not have much time with one of the traitors?” she politely declines. “The who.....?” Dion looks confused. “Oh! Right. The blasphemous fools who attacked me. Yes, do talk to them and find out.... And then you’ll come back and tell me about all the blood letting? I’m sure you have had quite the amusing time since we last spoke. I saw you on the fancy picture box quite a few times. What is that called again Roland? Oh, the tellie-vision. Yes. That darling R.L. Edwards seemed to enjoy...”

“R.L. Edgar.”

“Yesss! Did he ever take you up on your offer to introduce us?” Dion looks pitifully eager. “Ahhh, he never got back to me on that, no.” Lycana fends off as she slowly backs away. “I will come back and tell you a few stories after I meet with the prisoners why don’t you... take a nap so you are refreshed when I return?” she suggests. “You are always so kind Lycana! Looking out for everybody's well being! Didn’t I tell you Bartholomew?”

“My name is Benjamin.” the young man whispers. “Right, so... as I was saying... Braxton...” Dion continues on with the poor Benjamin as Lycana slips out the door, breathing a sigh of relief.

That was very short lived as Roland slips out next to her.

Dark chocolate hued eyes collide with steely blue. Roland sighs as he sweeps his hand through his hair. “Look Lycana, I don’t like you much.” he gets out. “You don’t say?” she acts shocked. “And that’s one reason why. You are insolent. Only out for yourself. But... we do need your help. So, look, those weapons are locked in the armory. I will take you there, and then to the two prisoners myself.” he growls, starting to stride off with a pronounced limp before Lycana can get a response out.

She trails along behind him as they make their way in silence. They descend in an elevator – who the hell had an elevator in their home? Dion of course!- down into the room that housed all of Dion’s guards' armor and weaponry. He leads the way in, nearly letting the door slam on Lycana as he goes in. She makes a face at his back, as he unlocks a bulletproof safe. He draws out a wrapped bundle, and presents it to her.

She swears she can feel the vibrating hum already. She slowly peels back the velvet covering to reveal what appears to be a relatively simple dagger, free from gems or other ornate adornments. On closer inspects, the handle is carved with a delicate design, and the blade itself has unusual markings on it. “Do you know what they mean?” Roland breaks the silence. “No, I’ve never seen anything like them before.” she admits. She wraps her fingers around the hilt and lifts it, testing its weight and balance in her palm. She can sense the supernatural power in it, like nothing she had ever experienced. Whether that was because it was the ancient magic, or something else added to it, she had no idea... but there was one thing she could do.

She lifts the blade and brings it down, allowing it to bite into the tender flesh of her forearm as Roland gapes at her.

She grows pale as the blade glows a deep purple. She opens her hand and the blade clatters to the floor, its light dulling once more. She gropes for something to keep her balance as her head swims. She stares at the weapon. It was nothing like the Harbinger. This made that particular being look like a playful housecat.

“Are you insane?!” Roland gasps out.

“I might be.” Lycana says on a small strangled giggle, agreeably.

He grabs for towels and a medical kit, yanking Lycana’s arm out, wiping away the blood as he bandages her up. She barely pays attention, her thoughts miles away. While the end result of the magic was similar, pulling the life force and essence of someone out, the method... it just was different. She had thought for a moment they had been connected, and thus connecting some dots in this puzzle, where she could draw some solid lines. The Harbinger would have been connected to the weapon, made out of something Tius had had, which also brought Reika’s involvement, leading to.... Well. It didn’t pay to keep thinking on it. That lead was gone now.

Drawing her newly fixed up arm away, she looks to Roland. “Thank you.” the simple words seem to surprise him, before his normal gruff expression shutters his face one more. He turns away, muttering something that sounded like ‘crazy witchy bitches’ under his breath. Whatever. He wasn’t wrong.

She uses the velvet to pick up the blade, wrapping the velvet carefully around it. She tucks it into one of the voluminous pockets of her coat and turns expectantly to Roland. He just shakes his head and leads the way out again, walking further down the hallway. As they draw closer to a barred door, with two guards standing like twins on either side, he begins to speak.

“They claim they are faithful to Clytius.”

“So, I heard. But what Dion said?” she inquires. He responds with a small sigh. “Dion will not speak much of his time back then with Tius. He refuses to even utter his name. Tius made many enemies, and very few friends with his actions. It was assumed that Cate had killed him a long time ago, she had claimed that she wanted to so many times, they had lost count. Then, she said that she had. Most thought it was her ranting. Then he was not seen again, so it is believed that perhaps, she actually did kill him somehow. Nobody was willing to ask and face her wrath, lest she actually be... a God Killer.”

“But there is no such thing that could kill a God or Goddess.” Lycana pauses. “Is there?”

“No.” Roland stops. “Not that anyone is aware of anyway. Let's hope it stays that way. They are in here.” With a short nod to the guards, he unlocks the door and shoves it open, this time allowing Lycana to enter the room first. As far as cells go, its actually well lit and comfortable. The two figures are shackled to the wall before her, chains kept short so they cannot move very far but the room is clean and warm. As she draws closer, she can also see their wounds have been tended to. As much as possible.

Not much could be done for the woman, Lycana could pick that up immediately, even with her limited healing skills. She was pale, her breathing shallow. Nothing could save her. The supernatural were not much for hospitals. If too many tests were run... anomalies. All that jazz. They avoided them, relying on healers and members of their own kind who pursued doctorates and jobs doing things of that nature. Even they couldn’t help this one. She was too far gone but him... she turns her steely gaze to clash with the angry emerald ones of the man. They reminded her of a certain someone who was also towheaded and fiery in temper.

“Hello there.” Lycana grins at him. His bright green eyes narrow as he spits at her feet. She raises a brow. “You might want to reconsider doing that again.” she remarks. “Why? You gonna do sumthin about it?” he growls. “Mmm. I might. But I was just saying to keep as much moisture as you can in your mouth. You’re going to be mighty thirsty soon.” she strolls closer. “What is your name?”

He glowers at her, his jawline firming as he remains mute. “Ah, won’t even tell me that will you?” she casts a glance back at Roland who confirms with a head motion they hadn’t even gotten that from him. She turns back with a quizzical expression. “What do you get out of doing this for Tius? Or what were you supposed to get on this fool's mission?”

“Freedom! To get out from under Hecate’s thumb! To be able to run wild and free as nature intended! To have our own mind’s and do what we will, not be some mindless servant to do anything she says! And to be free! And to do whatever we want without worry. And...”

“I might just have to call you Betsy.” Lycana cuts him off in an amused tone. “What freedoms are you lacking with Cate? There is very little we cannot do. You can run under the moon whenever you wish it. Meanwhile, your precious Tius should have told you, nothing can kill a God. He sent you all to your deaths! Just to test boundaries. To ignite the real war. You were just... kindling.” The man shakes his head but falls silent once more, glaring at her balefully.

“Who did you come in with?”

Silence.

“How many more are there who have turned?”

Silence.

“Where did you get the daggers?”

Silence.

And then... a hoarse, raspy whisper.

“Tius.... gave... them.”

All heads in the room jerk towards the girl, her eyes barely open as she regards Lycana. Her breathing sounds harsh now, as she fights for the words, with a surge of strength she speaks.

“You are the blue haired witch. The one Tius wants.”

Lycana moves closer, crouching close as she struggles to hear the words from the fading girl.

“What is your name?” she asks, her demeanor much kinder than towards the raven haired womans sidekick. “Nisha. His name...is.....” Lycana shushes her, wanting Nisha to save her strength. “Why does he want me?” she gently brushes the black locks from the shackled girl’s eyes. “Tius... he...” she coughs, unable to stop. Lycana motions for Roland to bring her some water, which he does, Lycana gently cupping the girl’s chin and she sips unable to drink much. The man looks on with jealousy. Lycana perversely sets the water down on the floor right by him.

“Tius...He... plans.” Nisha whispers, her eyes starting to lose focus. Lycana mentally curses. She was about out of time already and she hadn't gotten anything at all. “Have you seen him in person?” at least if she knew that, she would have an idea if he was still alive. Or if there was someone parading around pretending to be a damn God. Nisha’s eyes wander, then slowly stop, becoming fixed as she breathes her last.“Dammit.” Lycana swears under her breath as she rises, looking with regret at the girl.

It was a damn shame. She would be willing to bet anything that Nisha had been dragged into this whole fiasco by....

“Didn't learn shit, did you?”

This asshole.

“Enough.” one simple word as she turns her full attention back to him, as he sneers at her. “Oh? And what is her name going to do?” he laughs. She smiles right back, causing his amusement to falter just a little bit. “A name is the start. I can find out from that, a pack and where she is from.” Lycana steps towards him. “Who she hangs around with. Who she has been seen with.” She pulls the bundle out of her pocket. “And then I can start asking THEM questions. So, you see ‘Betsy Jr’, a single name can lead a multitude of places if you know where to start looking.”

“Guess you’d better hop to it then huh?” he smirks. “Oh no my dear boy...” Lycana removes the dagger from its velvet covering, making the smile drop completely from the blond as she levels him with the promise of retribution for Nisha in her expression. She spins the weapon lazily in her fingers before grasping the hilt.

“I’m not quite done with you.”

_____________________________________________________________________________________

“March Madness came and went, about as fully expected. Marf was able to extract his revenge on Demos, using every second of those fifteen minutes to its finest. He was finally able to get his hands on the pathetic masked coward again, taking great satisfaction in putting him down and stripping the title from about his portly waist. Walking away with that glorious shiny gold strap that the Demos held ever so dear. Oh, but have no worries Demos, if it is any consolation...

It looks much better on Marf!

Your worries are not over yet either, for you may have tasted defeat at the hands of one Dissentient, but you have yet to face the ire of the other one on one. Don’t think that I have forgotten you, my chunky monkey. We will play together in that ring, just you... and me.

And perhaps a bevy of toys.

We showed one of the newest members of the XWF’s Left Hand in ‘The Predator’ Sky Edwards. He is quite the asset to us, and has more than proven his value to our side. What he is doing, and already has done under the cover of the shadows while being a part of the Left Hand will come to light soon enough. I suggest you all pay attention.

Miss Fury plowed through little Solace Tatum like she was nothing but the delicate fluff blown from a dandelion... Setting her, and her high expectations down where they belong. In the dirt.

My match with Ash... well, it was glorious. I too, was able to vent my frustrations against someone I had a gripe with for quite a long time, and now my dearest Marf gets to do the same on Warfare. Ah, an absolute pleasure to cross this little item off the to do list I must say.

I did as promised, leaving Ash nothing but a crimson stained pile in the center of the ring. Was it a rousing victory? Absolutely not. This was merely Left Hand business that turned to have a bit of a more... personal nature, that needed to be handled. And it was my pleasure to see it through. However, I will not count this as my first victory because of that. I mean, let’s face it... the outcome was pretty much destined to be what it was. After all, Ash Quinn is no... oh, let's say... Betsy Granger.

Which brings me to that particular treat, herself. As well as another little event that took place during March Madness. The horrifyingly sadistic attack on Marf and myself by The Legacy. The slapping, the binding, the duct tape... the sheer horror of being left to be engulfed by the flames, all by our lonesome..., it struck terror in our hearts and convinced us to mend our ways.

We see that what we have been doing is terrible, and we mourn for those we did treacherous things to. We know we can never fully apologize, and have it be accepted, but we are both willing to try. Going forward, Marf and I will both do everything in our power to make it up to all. We turn our intentions to all that is good. We denounce the Left Hand, and will join Betsy in her battle to destroy the Baphomet.

Not really.

Was that what you were hoping for Bets?

If so, I do apologize for getting your hopes up. You will be waiting a long time if you think something like a mere attack would get us to turn tail. I will admit to being a bit moved by all the... vehemence you showed. Why my darling, you about took my breath away with the venom you spewed. It was positively glorious!

Utterly useless and for nothing.... but glorious all the same.

What did you think would happen when you all dispersed, leaving us there in the parking garage? That we would cry our eyes out? Perhaps profess our deepest feelings to one another. Maybe break out into a Disney song about how we learned from the moment? No, no, no. It was quite simple really. Fire extinguisher by The Predator. Cut free from the bonds by Ethos. Dusted ourselves off. And left the building as we had planned to before being so rudely interrupted.

I mean, you pretty much failed but... you deserve a participation trophy and a thumbs up for trying your best. Isn't that what you live for? A pat on the head for a job well done? For your praises to be sung? Do we go into a bit of a tantrum if we don’t get our way? Do we stomp our little feetsies if something we did wasn’t acknowledged in the proper manner? We wouldn’t want that to happen! Does James give you a cookie as a bit of a shut-the-fuck-up consolation prize to calm your fits and dry your tears?

Oh dear.

That was mean of me, wasn’t it?

I guess I forgot there was one little thing you accomplished.

You got our minds rolling on just what we could do to show you our most profound gratitude, what we could do to pay you back for this lovely little act you put on. Although I do hope it was not an act. I rather... well... LIKE this side of you miss Betsy boo.

However, you did choose to go against us and declare war... and funny enough, we get to step in the ring with each other on this coming Warfare! Ah, it will be quite the time, I’m sure. We were able to enjoy a little foreplay with one another not that long ago. Except I didn’t want your belt. And that little third wheel kept popping up at the most inopportune times, didn’t she?

Good thing I took care of her for us!

You’re welcome!

It wasn’t enough though, was it? No, after our tantalizing taste of combat, we parted ways but we met again, on Savage. Granted Marf had the most fun with you that night, but I digress... we still got to play a little. And then again with Alias, we had a little bit of a time with one another. Only the briefest of moments though, never quite long enough to slake the lust that runs through us both.

You tease, you.

This coming event though, this is our time to truly get our hands on one another. To take our sweet time with one another. To enjoy the physical nature to its fullest extent. To take nothing but pleasure in one another for as long as we can, between the bells. I DO hope you won't rush things my sweet Betsy. I prefer a more... extended ascent to the peak. We should take our time with one another, relish while we can... who knows when we might be put in this position once more?

There is something special, something magical between you and I. Perhaps it is the mere fact that you, you are the epitome of light, sweet gossamer glistening with dew under the gentle kiss of the sun's rays. A fairy shining through with the luminescence of pure intentions. While I... well, I am the epitome of the dark. Black lace shrouded in shadows, hiding from even the moons silver embrace. A wolf, lurking in the gloom with nothing but slaughter on her mind.

Total opposites, fitting together like two pieces of a machine, interlocking in such a way, they can never be parted.

Let us enjoy the boon we have been given, dearest Betsy.

You and I both know; this one time will never be enough for us.”