The world vanishes until all that there is, is nothing but those emerald eyes, sucking her in, the pressure on her chest getting stronger until....

Her eyes fly open with a strangled gasp, still unable to draw in a full breath, locking with a set of green eyes, glimmering in the moonlight, staring down at her from the man literally sitting atop her body.

A startled squeak emerges from her as she tries to shove backwards, failing thanks to the weight of the one perched on her. She writhes and he grins at her, the expression getting wiped off as she aims a vicious swing at him, landing only a glancing blow as he rolls off and out of the way.

“Well, that was unnecessary.”

The man now sprawls negligently at the foot of the bed, a haughty look of irritation on his exceedingly handsome face. Lycana moves into a sitting position and scrambles to lean against the headboard, glaring at the intruder.

“The fuck?!” Marf now, has awoken, sleepy eyes going from Lycana to glance at the figure at the end of the bed and back, before he nearly gets whiplash looking back at the fellow who was sharing their bed. “Is this going to be a thing now?” his voice is blander than most would be in this situation. He truly was getting used to all the insanity of her world. She resists the urge to giggle hysterically.

“I don’t know.” she does titter now, high pitched and oddly. “I don’t know.” Marf looks at her with a little bit of concern before his eyes narrow on this newcomer, judging by her reaction that he wasn’t exactly one who was to be taken with welcoming arms. He slides to a sitting position, the sheet falling away slowly to reveal his muscular chest. His arms bulge as his hands slowly clench into fists, glowering, ready to throw whoever this interloper was out the window at a single word from Lycana.

She had her gaze locked onto this new being who had just appeared. She was not getting any danger vibes off him. He was tall, slender yet lightly muscled which he advertised with snug fitting clothing. Elegant, and perfectly cut. An air of superiority. Indomitable. Long blond hair tousled just so. The green eyes, not an emerald hue, but more of a soft sage. Pleasing lips. Chiseled cheekbones. Firm chin. A perfect face. A little too perfect...

She shakes her head as she realizes she has zoned out of the conversation going on beside her. “... and why you chose to just hop in the bed of all places. Who the hell do you think you are?” Marf is saying. The debonair blond allows his mouth to slowly arc upwards in a smile, revealing perfect –of course- teeth. “Why, my good man, I am an...”

“Incubus.”

Both heads swing in Lycana’s direction as she stares into the green eyes once more, first tinged with surprise, then with humor. “He is an incubus.” she reiterates. He performs a slow clap, his husky chuckle sending a reluctant thrill up Lycana’s spine. “Brava lovely lady... brava! Yes, I am an incubus. My name is Finneas... but you can call me whatever you wish.” Finneas purrs, sidling up close to Lycana. She feels the seductive pull of his nature and slams the lid down on it as hard as she can. “Yeah thanks. Why are you in my bed?” she gets right to the heart of things.

“You invited me darling!” a disgruntled Finneas replies, throwing his hands in the air. Marf looks at Lycana “What the hell is he talking about?” he inquires. “I have no idea.” she gets out, shaking her head in bewilderment. “Does necromancy ring a bit of a bell?” Finneas interjects.

Oh shit.

Seeing her expression, the incubus nods with good cheer now, as Marf looks back and forth between them. “Yes! All that power, and electricity in the air...” his voice dips, starting to get husky as he begins to lean in closer to Lycana. “Add in this big guy's dreams...” Finneas gets even closer, as Lycana reclines backwards, uncomfortable, in danger of falling off the bed now. “...as well as all the ones you’ve been having and oh my dear... you are a delight I couldn’t resist!” his face hovers a mere inch above hers... then is gone.

Completely gone.

One minute it was there, and the next she was looking at her ceiling.

An aggrieved “Put me down this instant!” has her locating precisely where he had gone off to. Held in the air. By Marfs hand. Which was attached to his throat. But only for a moment, as Marf obliges Finneas’ request and sends him soaring across the room to smack into the wall, before sliding down onto the floor.

He pops right back up, dusting himself off. “Well... I can see that I am not wanted in here!” he marches towards the door, giving them an affronted stare. “I will be in your kitchen when you are ready to apologize.” Lycana blinks. “You’re... staying?” He tosses his hair back over his shoulder in a smooth, practiced move. “Indeed. I have information you might find interesting. So, call your little... friend here off.” He shoots a contemptuous look at Marf. “Then come to me. We have much to discuss.” With that, he sticks his nose in the air and sails off.

“I should have killed him.” Marf’s voice breaks through to Lycana and she turns to face him with a little smile. “He’s immortal.” Marf takes that in for a second. “I should have beaten the shit out of him.” Lycana can't help an amused chuckle. “Please tell me we aren't keeping that too.” He arches a brow as he looks at her. “I guess I should find out what he’s here to talk to me about.” she muses. “Is there anything you want to talk to me about?” is shot her way.

She freezes, slate colored eyes colliding with cobalt ones. There is a long pause, where neither of them move a muscle. “I could feel it Lycana. You were going to change in the parking garage. Weren't you?” it was a question, but seemed more like a statement.

She sank slowly onto the edge of the bed. “Yes.” she admits. “In the middle of a public place?” Marf stares at her. “Your anger stirred it up again... Maybe the fire had something to do with it. I don’t know. I just thought maybe it would be easier to get us out of the situation.” she looks off to the side. That wasn’t even all of it. She couldn’t keep it from him. He would see Granger’s promo sooner or later. “We should probably get you out somewhere and practice with that....” Marf begins.

“She saw me.”

“What?” he stops as Lycana brings worried eyes back to his face. “Betsy. She saw me.” she repeats. “And what... what could she have possibly seen? You didn’t get very far...” Marf frowns at her. “My eyes...” she rubs her face. “When a lycan changes, a lot of times their eyes start to glow with the color of their aura. Not all the time... but... from the look on her face, I'm going to guess they were.” she discloses. He just stares at her for a long time waiting, so she takes a deep breath and calls on the beast.

She feels it as it slinks from the dark, stretching languorously as she beckons it forward. She feels her skin prickle, goosebumps rising along her flesh as she rides the delicate line between human and monster. She can tell the exact moment he sees it, as his expression changes. She swiftly puts a stop to anything further, causing the beast to lift its lips and growl, not liking being muzzled by Lycana once more. She pushes harder and it snarls once, then obeys, retreating back to wait until she called it forward once more. The glow in her eyes fades out as it does so, Marf slowly nodding his understanding.

“It’s bound to get out then, at some point.” he remarks. “Probably. It's just an unspoken thing to hide it. Some do, and some don’t. I think a lot of those who have been exposed to the supernatural, that are not themselves, have a hard time wrapping their mind around what they are seeing. Some just... shove it off and chalk it up to their imagination. Some file it under extra weird shit they’ve been exposed to. The problem comes if it causes an uproar. Like a witch hunt. If the masses knew shapeshifters, warlocks, demons, and whatnot walked freely among them on a daily basis...” She shrugs. “Who knows. There are a lot of strange goings on in the XWF, but I don’t know what would happen if it was common knowledge that I’m a werewolf.”

“And a witch.” Marf points out. “And a witch.” she concurs. “Although for whatever reason I feel like that one wouldn’t be looked at quite so oddly.” He holds out a hand, and without hesitation she places her own, dwarfed, in it. He closes it over hers and brings her to her feet, drawing her in close. “In a place filled with superheroes, BoB, Corey Smith, and whatever the hell Demos is... a werewolf isn't so crazy.” Lycana looks up into his face from her place in his arms. “I guess. Especially compared to everything else we have going on here.” He snorts before he releases her. “Thats the truth. I’m going to go make sure our new guest isn't doing anything stupid. Stupider than he already has.” he exits the room while speaking. “You are just looking for a reason to punch him.” she calls out to him. “Yep.” was the response.

She wanders to the window, wrapping her arm around herself as she peers out really seeing anything as she begins to muse aloud.

“What could she do to me if she knew I was a shapeshifter? Truly... Nothing. What proof could she pull out to show any who questioned her? None. I guess some would not believe her... She would be looked at as the crazy one. Scoffed at that she believed in nightmares.

But there's way too much weird things that go on in the XWF to really ignore such claims, even the otherworldly and the outlandish. Maybe Marf is right. Corey has been inhabited by multiple people... nobody bats an eyelash. Charlie is... possessed? By Demos. Even Romeo has something going on now. Perhaps it would be fine.

So why do I have thing nagging feeling?”

There is no more time to ruminate on the matter, as a resounding crash from below has her whirling from the window, galloping out of the room, taking the stairs two at a time to rush headlong into the kitchen. She slides to a stop at the sight of Finneas atop her refrigerator, a very unhappy Fenrir snarling up at him. Marfs lounges in a chair, a cheerfully amused expression on his face as he takes a bite of a blueberry Pop-Tart, watching the show. Finneas gives her an exasperated glower from his ungainly position. “Can you please just get control of your pet! BOTH of them!”

With a simple word the growling from Fenrir stops. Lycana places a gentle hand on his head to scratch behind his ear a little, reassuring him that everything was as it should be. The black wolf casts a clearly doubtful look at the top of the appliance the incubus was perched on top, before obeying and loping out the door his mistress opens for him. She pinches the bridge of her nose before turning to face the two men.

She starts cleaning up shards of the coffee mug off the floor as Finneas picks his way down, and brushes invisible dust off his clothing as he sets himself back to rights. “I have never been treated anywhere like I have been here!” he arrogantly informs the room at large. “You should leave then.” Marf tells him. “You would like that, wouldn't you?” Finneas accuses. “Almost as much as I want to put Ash through a table.” Marf remarks. “Who?” Finneas looks confused.

Reika shuffles in then, looking sleepy. “Helloooo” Finneas perks up. In an instant Lycana is there, inches away glaring up at him. “No.” He looks down at her, bemused. The sound of a chair sliding back alerted Lycana to Marf rising to his feet behind her. Finneas and Lycana’s eyes clash and hold, both knowing which way this would go if the demon decided to take on the wolf, but after a long moment he snorts. “Easy mama bear... or should I say wolf? Your pup is safe.” The ‘for now’ remained unspoken, but Lycana had the strangest feeling it was there. Incubi were not the most trustworthy beings in the world.

“I used all the milk.” Oblivious to all the turmoil Reika had overflowed a bowl with cereal and milk. Leaving the carton on the counter, she gets a spoon and wanders back out to watch TV, not even acknowledging the presence of the newcomer.

“We must speak, shall we?” moving right along and changing the subject, Finneas motions to the door. Lycana hesitates. “Oh, come now my pretty little wolf, don’t tell me you're afraid to come for a walk with someone like me, are you?” he grins in a predatory way, that has her hackles rising. She looks over to Marf who looks less than pleased with the idea. Lycana slips into his head and he lets her, giving a barely perceptible nod in response to what she says. Finneas narrows his eyes. “How cute. Mind linked. How cozy. Adorable. Gag me.” he grumbles as he slips out the door. Lycana drags her gaze away from Marf and follows.

The two walk across the property and into the woods, no words spoken between them. A shadow slides among the trees at a distance, remaining elusive to the eye but both knew he was there. Fenrir. Finneas breaks the silence. “It appears nobody trusts me.” he sounds nearly mournful. “Why should we? Besides, your kind isn't exactly known for their sincerity.” Lycana replies drily. “Oh, are we talking about secrets now? What about that enchantingly innocent girl who, by all rights is supposed to be dead and buried?” he shoots a smirk in her direction. Lycana subsides, not wanting to concede the point to this cocky creature. She keeps a wary eye on him as they stroll, her body tense.

“Why so nervous my dear?” in a flash he is standing in front of her, showing off some of his powers in superhuman speed. “Do you worry about being alone with me? That you will succumb to temptation and let me have you?” he moves in, his body brushing hers as she resists the urge to back away, her nerves strung as taut as a bow. He tilts his head. “You are one of the few to not welcome my advances... why is that?” he tilts his head. “Maybe you aren't as alluring as you think.” she suggests. “No, that’s not it. I can tell you still struggle with the Seduction; it compels you though you fight it. Ahhh wait... perhaps you would find me irresistible if I were like so?”

He shifts, Marf now standing before her, but with the sage eyes instead of his bold blue. He cracks a smile. “Or perhaps this?” Again, he changes, now Damien is there, again with the same sage green eyes. She blinks and he is back to the blond maned Finneas. “Maybe you fancy a darker twist?” he says, removing his shirt. His eyes change first, becoming reptilian in nature. Scales pop out all over his body, and within moments, a dragon-esque humanoid creature stands before her, a large set of wings spread before her. A Wyvern of sorts. His demonic form.

“Are you done?” she turns away to hide how rattled she was that he could pick apart her mind, and what he was insinuating. “Not quite darling... don’t be pissy about my powers. I haven't even shown you them all! I can fly you know.” he morphs back and picks up the shirt, but doesn’t put it on, running his hand over his abdomen, unabashedly trying to draw attention to the washboard muscles found there.

“Of course you can.” she starts walking once more. “And I don’t even need a machine like your little friend Betsy.” he chortles as she stops dead, turning around. “How do you know about her?” Lycana suspiciously asks. Finneas laughs. “Oh snookums, I’ve been around your mind at night and let me tell you... while your musclebound bedfellow has some tasty offerings, and some secrets of his own... what goes on in your head is positively mouthwatering.”

“I hardly think some weird dreams about Betsy Granger qualify for such a label as that.” Lycana scoffs. “Mmmm sure sugar pie... ‘dreams’.” Finneas inspects his fingernails. A cold chill dances its way down Lycana’s spine. “What is that supposed to mean?” she hisses. “Oh, just that dreams and nightmares, no matter the subject matter, they all have the same underlying flavor so to speak. You can tell what they are. But this little adventure you're having on repeat? Why, it positively reeks of reminiscing on an event, a memory...” he purses his lips and gives her a quick eyebrow twitch. She shakes her head. “No, that never happened. It couldn’t have. I’d remember something like that... it's just a dream, because I'm facing her again... that’s all...” her voice trails off.

“You can tell yourself that... but you don’t truly believe it do you?” he strides over to start circling her. “The thought has passed your mind before has it not? That little hint of déjà vu tickling your senses. Why do you brush it off?” She cranes her head around to look at him. “Because its outlandish. There is no way that I could have been doing all those things and not remembered. That’s insane.” she refutes. “As insane as a witchy werewolf who wrestles with the pros?” he points out.

Touche.

Even as she admits that, her whole being rejects the notion that something like... whatever it was... had happened, yet she couldn’t recall it. Only bits and pieces throughout her memory... DREAM! Dream. That’s all it was, was some sort of dream. Perhaps it was telling her something. Like the snake. And the damn glowing eyes. And all the fucking rest of the things. Her mind was awhirl with thoughts and denials.

“I can help you look deeper. Uncover more.” Finneas whispers. Lycana shakes off her heavy cloak of thought to peer at him. “And why would you help me? What would you get out of it?” she suspiciously queries. Finneas stops and presses a hand to his chest. “Why would you think that I wouldn’t be doing this out of the goodness of my heart?” he sounds wounded. When no response is forthcoming, he drops the bad acting. “Ahh, you are no fun sugar pie. No fun at all.” they turn back in the direction of her home as he continues on. “I help you with your little Betsy mystery, and in return... I get to stay.”

“But why...” she starts, cut off as he waves a hand. “I wasn’t finished. I get to stay because you and your paramour- ah sorry, ‘good friend’...” he leers “Both give off some intense energy that, as you know, I feed off of. I don’t even have to fuck you... though if you were agreeable....?” he suggestively bites his lip with a purr. At her eyeroll he laughs. “Can't blame a demon for trying. No, you two... give off a kind I have not encountered before, without me even touching. Call it a … you scratch my back, I scratch yours. Now how does that sound mon petit chou?”

She hesitates, considering the fact that he was probably lying. About everything. There was more he wanted. Incubi were notoriously self-centered, why would he want to help with her problem? And who was to say it was even a problem at all? She had dreams about Betsy Granger... surely that wasn’t too out of whack, given that she was facing the woman. And the last time... well... she had faced her then too. The pods, the man, the redhead, everything else that seemed so... wrong yet right... well... there had to be a reasonable explanation to them all. Even if that it was just that she was stark raving mad with an overactive imagination. Yet, she found herself extending her hand to Finneas, who scoops it up and brings it to his mouth. “Sealed with a kiss.” he murmurs as he presses his cool lips against her flesh. Goosebumps rise unbidden as her breath exhales in a rush.

Why did it feel like she just sold her soul?

She has no more time to think as a giggling titanium haired flash goes scampering by, followed by the loud crashing of underbrush as Marf comes thundering through. Finneas bows gallantly, releasing Lycana’s hand. “I will get the girl. Since I’m going to be around for awhile.” he sweetly offers as he disappears in a blue, showing off his paranormal skill once more. “Good... let that asshole babysit.” Marf grumbles. “Did he say he’s staying?” Lycana sighs.

“Just one big family.”

“One big fucked up family.”

“You can say that again.”

____________________________________________________________________________________

“Oh, my dearest sweet Betsy... You were quiet so long I had started to question if you had anything to say to me! I was afraid that you were just going to leave me hanging with bated breath like Ash Quinn did. That you were going to play the mysterious card and play silently in the shadows to try and pull me out more.

How silly of me!

I should have known that you would never be able to keep a lid on your trap. If there is one thing that can be counted on, its Betsy Granger squawking when things don’t quite go her way, or if she decides she just has to be a part of something. You can never resist sticking your nose into things and spouting off on all that you know, or think you know. It’s what you say you do best after all, and wow... did you ever bring me a veritable buffet of things to pick my way through!

A pile of presents wrapped in festive paper, festooned with bows all just waiting for me to give them a good shake.

Where to start, where to start?

Ah first, Betsy-boo thinks I lack imagination because of my ruminations about her actions during March Madness. She is quick to point out that no, that was not her intent for Marf and myself to grovel, to cower and think over our actions. Oh no no, silly Lycana. You should know better than this! Betsy never wanted to absolve us from our sins. She never wanted us to get hurt. She merely just wanted to pass along a message. How could I not see that? Oh silly, stupid Lycana! Lacking in brainpower compared to the genius in Miss Granger. Clearly.

I’m disappointed in you Betsy.

Watching my sarcasm fly freely over your head as you grin into the camera like you just accomplished something, oh my love it pained me so! Is this a foreign subject for you doll? I would think that one who claims herself to be on a higher level of intelligence than most would have been able to deduce that my words were of the sardonic nature, surely? No? Could I have been that wrong in my opinion of you? That you thought my teasing barbs were the truth I saw in your actions?

Oh, dear me.

I had given you more credit than that... had thought you in possession of more brainpower, that you weren't the stereotypical dumb blond... but you proved me wrong. Bravo! Instead, you come chirping the true motives behind your attack to try and correct me.

Betsy dear, I just didn’t give a shit.

I don’t need to know your rationale. I don’t care about the driving force behind what you did. There is absolutely no desire to sit around and braid each other's hair as we discuss our innermost sentiments. The fact that you think that you have been on my mind is adorable! That I have been trying to figure out what makes you tick. That I care what makes you do anything that you do, at any point.

Well sorry to say, you're nothing but an afterthought Bets.

But you couldn’t have that, could you? Betsy can't stand when she isn't relevant in an equation anymore... When her star isn't shining brightly enough to suit her fancy. So, on you came, wielding your marker like some kind of misguided warrior. Lighting fires to draw people to the cause, to join you as you wave your Sharpie in the air and declare your new position in the war on the Left Hand. Ah sweet girl, I have to admire your tenacity as inefficacious as it is.

I do hope you learn to embrace the bitter taste of defeat better than you do now, or James is going to have his hands full comforting your tantrum. For you see Betsy... we aren't going anywhere. You can bring your little string of allies, one at a time... many at once if it pleases you. You can hunt us down in the back. You can call us to the ring. You can win the matches. You can be as sneaky as your wee little heart desires... it all ends in failure at your ultimate end game.

The Left Hand will never be defeated, we have infested the XWF among other feds, working towards our ultimate end goal... and please do try and figure it out! Nothing would scintillate me more than to watch you founder until it is far too late. Many have come before you to no avail. Why would you think yourself any different? It is because you think yourself above most of the rest in the locker room. You place yourself on a pedestal as the one person who has the power to defeat something that is so far above the realm of her understanding, it is laughable. You make excuses for your shortcomings, not accepting that even at your best... you can still fall. Never allowing others to shine, always pushing her way in to try and eke out what she believes is her due... right Ms March Madness? That ego darling... that will be your undoing. It will be my pleasure to see you take a tumble from your precious perch into harsh reality.

That’s the end game of this all for you, pretty... that’s the reason it doesn’t matter the what or why with anything you do. It’s the reason I can't be bothered to question your motives.

But you, you question everything about me, don’t you?

Why do you follow the Baphomet? Why do you lead the charge in his absence? How can you trust him? What is your true purpose here? Why would you join the Left Hand in the first place? What makes you tick? Why? Why? Why?

It galls you not having the answers, doesn’t it?

Miss Smarter Than Thou cannot figure out what is going on right before her eyes.

It eats you up inside... and I love it.

It's pretty neat, living rent free in your mind. Having my free tickets to watch you struggle through your detective work. Questioning things that will likely not ever know the answer too, as much as you think you will. Chasing the things you seek, only for it to ever elude your grasp like the most elusive of butterflies. Some... you should have just asked! Thinking I was skulking around hiding that I had taken control of the Left Hand in XWF. My love! I ANNOUNCED it in the middle of the ring! Not only that... I am the second in command for the entire shebang.

You might want to reconsider your mystery solving hobby, if the answer to one of your questions so blatantly escaped you.

There are some mysteries that are better left alone though, my pet... and you appear to be chasing one of them. I know what you saw within that ring of fire my friend, and I know how it must have intrigued your mind even as it spooked you from the vicinity. The fear intermingling with the curiosity. I can surmise you spent hours rolling the image over in your mind... trying to nail it down. Was it your imagination? A trick from the dancing flames? No... it was burned too deeply into your mind's eye to be such. The amaranthine hue swirling about each time you closed your eyes. The time you spent scouring ideas on just what you had laid eyes upon, truly meant.

The elation when you finally figured it out, the reason behind it all. And yes, given your tantalizing little quips you decided to pepper your promo with... you are likely correct in your assumptions.

Congratulations on getting one thing right!

I’d wonder if you first scoffed at the notion, if you thought that you might be going just a little bit crazy, but you don’t strike me as the type to shy away from things of that nature... Perhaps you did for the briefest of moments, and then you embraced it. Rubbing your hands together with glee that you may have just found something to dangle over the head of Lycana.

Dangle away my dear, just know it is unwise to tease predators. They tend to snap if goaded, and think nothing of taking the hand with whatever it is that’s proffered. Especially when there is more than the one you have decided to prod. If you invite one wolf, you invite the pack after all... or so they say. I’m sure there are a few who would love to know what you are doing. Some much more powerful than you or I can ever dream of becoming. Beings beyond what even you and I both know, that I am. Ones that will stop at nothing to protect their own family if you will.

Beware what you choose to do with your knowledge Betsy.

It might be prudent of you to forget it all together.

Yes, that is a threat. For indeed, beyond the Left Hand there are more allies that I can call my own. Enemies too, that would answer the call and stand by my side should the need arise if it came to this. Bear that in mind, my own sweet darling... before you run after things you know nothing about.

You seem to have secrets of your own, you might not want brought to light that involve me. Perhaps the word pod would ring a bell.

Oh yes Betsy... I am quite zealously on a hunt of my own. I will discover the truth behind it all.

Although if you are so eager to play... perhaps I can show you one day. That might be a fun time would it not? You trying to figure out the rules to a game you have never played before... would you be able to figure it out in time? Would your fear lend wings to your feet? What would Betsy Granger do when faced with what she so gaily lords over me?

Alas, we will not be finding out tomorrow, will we?

No, tomorrow it seems we only partake in a simple wrestling match, woman on woman. Standard. Basic. Average. All things that neither of us are... we deserve so much more. Ah...but we will finally be alone with another and for that, I am thankful. We will get to ride the wave of violence together, nobody to distract us from it all. We will bring each other to new heights, reveling in the ascent, neither eager for the climax to be reached too quickly. Our sweat slicked bodies locked in the embrace of a battle; we know cannot be won that night.

Our hungers might be appeased for a brief moment, but never sated. No... when it comes to you, a single helping would never be enough to satisfy. We will both leave tomorrow night already ravenous for another taste of the other. Our story will not end with this single match... This will not be the last time we meet, both in and out of the ring. We are far too linked for that.

This Warfare will see the first collision in true dark and true light. Where the gleaming radiance of a diamond clashes with the inky luster of onyx. A piece of dazzling starlight competing to break through the black velvet of the night sky. The shadowed depths of the ocean trying to crush the phosphorescent creatures.

Two individuals coming together with such impact, that it will send sparks flying into the kindling of events that lies about us both, igniting our desire to destroy one another. The flames will rise high into the sky, threatening to burn us both long before we are done... raging out of control, unable to be tamed by any who try. You say you will destroy the Left Hand Betsy... here is your first attempt to break the spirit of the Dark Vixen of Violence. Bring me your best. I want to look into your eyes and see the inferno of determination mirrored back to me. Just keep in mind darling, my true nature, my beast was born of the blaze... birthed as the pyre raged about it. I live to dance in the sea of your flames.

I’ve always liked to play with fire.”