And in a split second, it all goes black.

Continued from RP 2- Count Your Sins By Candlelight

She awakes in the middle of a forest, but something is off with her vision. Everything was in shades of gray, with only vague colors showing here or there, some more prominent than others. At the same time, everything was sharper, clearer than it should have been in the middle of the night, although there was a strange black haze around the edges. She pulls her limbs under her and gets to her feet, feeling all four press into the earth as she stretches... four? as that novel idea hits her, she notices both her hearing and sense of smell are like she has never experienced, discerning a bird fluttering its wings in the tree far above her, the scent in her nares telling her it was an owl.

The rush of power, of exhilaration, of freedom washes over her as she starts to run for the sheer joy in it. Like the joy of being in the ring... wait, what ring? She shakes her head, confused. She bounds through the woods, weaving her lithe body through the trees, jubilant in the way her sleek muscles obeyed in ways they never had before. All her heightened senses combine to make her nearly delirious with the overwhelming feeling of it all. Her claws dig into the dirt as she pivots on her hindquarters, a smell in the air changing the course of her travels. She raises her nose to the air as she travels, navigating by it alone as she closes the distance between her and her goal. She slows, lowering her head and body.

Her target was acquired in the form of a large vole, nibbling at the plants under the moonlight. Her body tenses as she moves forward on stealthy paws, the wind ruffling through her fur like the feeling of flying through the air... wait, when did she?... she is distracted by the vole pausing in its motion. She freezes, knowing the breeze was on her side, blowing her own scent away from her prey. The moment stretches on, and then the tiny mammal goes about its business, back to nourishing itself, unaware of the shadow of death that loomed ever so close. Lycana shifts into motion once more, placing her feet carefully until she is close enough to launch her body into the air.

A loud squeak is cut off as her sharp teeth close around the vole. Jaws press down, the little creature’s bones being crushed with a satisfying crack... kinda like the neck of... wait, like who?... Hot blood fills her mouth. Spilling onto her tongue as she relishes the coppery metallic tang. She makes quick work of her snack, her tongue emerging to clean the last traces of blood from her maw, caressing her fangs as it goes. She trots off, idly making her way through the woods now, no true destination in mind. Her tongue lolls from her mouth, her tail held aloft behind her like a flag. A new smell turns her head now, water. She soon finds it, a small still pond.

She steps up, her paws squishing in the thick mud surrounding the water. She lowers her head and laps, the water chilled with a mineral tinge to it. It tasted like the sweetest ambrosia after her run. As her tongue scoops up the liquid, she gazes into her reflection. A large black wolf stares back at her. She remembers another... who? A thrill runs through her. Finally! Her fondest dream had been realized! She stops drinking, lifting her head as droplets of water drip from her muzzle. As she admires her reflection, still in disbelief about finally changing, gaining her lycanthrope powers, the image changes slightly. The formerly amber eyes switch to a bright blue. And begin to glow. Like... She shakes her head.

Bright blue eyes... glowing on a black background. Like... like... it all comes rushing back at her as she scrambles backward on a high-pitched yip. HARBINGER! She shakes her head wildly as she throws her body around, trapped in a fight with herself. NO! This was not happening! This was all in her mind! Lycana herself pushes forward, scrambling to hang onto anything that was she, not wolf. That hovering blackness around the edges of her vision, she reaches for it, grasping at the shadows as if they were the last shreds of reality, and they very well might be! She locks on, tugging the darkness around her as the woods being to vortex about her. She feels the same nauseous feeling grow in the pit of her stomach, the dizziness slamming her body from all sides in the inky abyss.

And then she is back, eyes flying open as she lay on the cabins floor.

A cold winter breeze blows through the cabin, entering the same way as the hooded figure had. Traces of leaves and snow swirl around Lycana’s prone body, as if the elements themselves were trying to rouse her from her slumber. The shrouded figure now stood before Reika as Lycana’s captive struggled against her restraints, pulling on them with such force that blood began rolling down her wrists. Reika watched as death approached; she had been willing to die for her pack, but not like this… not to him! As Lycana attempted to regain her composure, she was vaguely aware of words spoken between the two. Reika sounded like she was pleading… was it for him to spare her? Or take her instead of Lycana?

Whatever she was saying seemed to fall on deaf ears as the Harbinger continued his approach, stopping just inches before her. The dark cloak concealed most of his body, but there was no mistaking those glowing runes. Even though the majority of his body was concealed by the fabric on his person, the runes shone through his clothes. The Harbinger raised his hands to Reika, his palms mere inches from her face. Her eyes were wide, scanning everything from the Harbingers face, to the mystical blue glow illuminating from his body, to finally Lycana. Her face was one of shock and horror, both at what was happening to her at this moment and, also, what fate was to befall her leader next. The magic that flowed over her was not one of pain and suffering but, rather, a numbing sensation that made Reika struggle to regain consciousness. As her mind began to slip away, and the drowsiness overtook her, she managed to mutter a single word. “Run”.

That word got through to Lycana loud and clear, cutting a path through the fog that still hovered in her brain. She gulps in a breath, trying to force her body into action, her muscles feeling weighed down by the magic that had been woven on her. She rolls onto her hands and knees, her eyes locked onto the glowing runes, the cloaked being with his hands upon her packmate, and adrenaline begins to surge within her. She forces her arms up, using the table as leverage to clamber to her feet, her knees shaking but still holding her up. As her body comes back to itself once more, she straightens with an audible snarl, aimed at the Harbinger.

The Harbinger slowly turns on his heel, his piercing blue eyes staring into the soul of Lycana. His eyebrows perked up in surprise, amazed to see her practically upright. The azure-runes began burning even brighter, as if this display of defiance infuriated him. In truth, he was more perplexed than anything. He cast a sidelong glance at Reika, ensuring she wouldn’t wake just as Lycana had, before directing his full attention to the leader of the pack. “You should be asleep,” the Harbinger states matter-of-factly, his voice low and ominous. “This would’ve been better if you were asleep. Less… painful.”

His eyes flicker with annoyance as he rolls up his sleeves, the magical symbols running up the length of his forearms. The electricity of magic fills the air of the cabin once more as he stretches his fingers, blue mist appearing out of thin air. His hands shake as he seems to be pushing against some invisible force, a sphere of solid blue energy emerging between his palms. As he lifts his hands, directing them towards Lycana, the magic burst suddenly lunges forward, aiming directly for her. Lycana is still struggling to gain her bearings as he turns to face her, his words causing a chill to race down her spine. The sight of the glowing ball of cerulean power between his hands roots her to the spot, and she can only watch helplessly as it grows.

Her brain screams in both denial and terror, trying to trigger some sort of response within her muscles. As he releases the magic, and it hurtles towards her, she finally springs into action. She flings her body to the side, ingloriously crashing to the floor and sliding across it once more as she can feel the electricity go over her head, her hair standing on end like a wild halo for a moment, until the sphere of energy hits the side of the cabin. A sound like a small explosion shatters the air as the cabin quakes and part of the wall dissolves into splinters, shards flying everywhere. Lycana puts her arm up in defense of her face, feeling the shrapnel dig its way under her flesh. She lowers it to see that he had blasted a hole right through the side of the cabin. She forces her numb mind to work, lunging to her feet and shifting into a defensive position as she eyes the door on the opposite side of the room.

The Harbinger doesn’t wait for Lycana to recover, instantly upon her as she attempts to keep his attacks from landing. Parrying blow after blow, dodging as his closed fists find nothing but air, the magic swirling around them. She knows if he touches her, makes contact with her skin, it’s over; she has to be quicker than him, she has to survive, but she can only be on the defensive for so long. The cabin groans as the two dance around each other, the Harbinger barely giving her a moment to breathe. He doesn’t seem to tire, nor lose his patience, as she remains in her defensive stance. She waits for an opening that doesn’t seem to present itself and begins to question if Reika was right all along.

Was this, indeed, the beginning of the end? The aura washes over her as Lycana realizes she allowed herself to become distracted long enough that the Harbinger managed to barely make contact with her face, the blow a glancing one but powerful enough that she stumbled backwards, crashing to the hard floor. She felt as if she were falling in slow motion, all strength and will being drained from her very essence. His magic… she had never encountered anything like it; it was as if he were sucking the very life out of her. The Harbinger stood above her as her eyes fluttered, resisting once again the urge to slip away into the darkness, to allow herself to finally rest.

She battles the cobwebs, the alluring call of sweet oblivion, the dream of being a wolf once more that beckons her to with its loving embrace. She seizes his moment of stillness to try and gain the upper hand, using her legs in a sweeping motion, slamming them into his limbs to knock them out from underneath him. As he is still in the air, falling, she is scrambling away. ‘Don’t let him touch you. Avoid the hands.’ a mantra pounding through her very being as she claws her way across the cabin floor. She hits the wall, using it to help her gain her feet once more, looking wildly around. She seizes the first thing that is available, a large urn, and sends it flying directly at the Harbingers head as he moves to sit up.

He merely moves his head to the side and it flies past, scant millimeters from his cheek. He doesn't seem to care. It shatters harmlessly behind him. She curses roundly. Lycana risks a glance at Reika, wondering if she was still alive. This gives the Harbinger time to get up, and as he makes a grab for her, she dodges, going around the other side of the table, keeping it between them. As she lunges to the side, he follows, matching her movement for movement, not allowing her access to any form of escape. Lycana continues to scamper around the table, using it as a barrier between herself and the Harbinger, as he follows close behind.

Her legs are growing weaker as her muscles long to give into the exhaustion. Her lips curled back as she flashed her teeth, growling against this cursed magic that left her feeling fragile and vulnerable. As the Harbinger moved, he dragged his hands along the edge of the table, the wood singeing and crackling against his touch, an eerie blue flame rising from where his fingers touched. This sudden development of fire licking at her skin forced Lycana away from the table and back against a nearby wall. For a moment, she contemplated diving through the magical “window” the Harbinger had been kind enough to create for the cabin, before realizing how foolish that would be to try and fit her slender frame through a bowling-ball-sized hole. The Harbinger paused in front of her, sizing up his adversary for perhaps the last time as the blue flame rose up higher behind him.

Lycana stares, a hopelessness starting to come over her drained body. Her gaze skitters around the room, as if committing it to memory. Would this be the very last thing she saw? Would it be peaceful? As she looks around, her eyes alight on her shelves where she kept multiple potions and elixirs. They had so many uses, good and bad when done right. She almost laughs maniacally, here she was staring death in the face thinking about all the items she had in various jugs and jars. It seemed inane. Until… in one frantic motion, with the last of her energy, she whirls, grabbing an armful of pottery off the shelf, flinging them forward onto the ground before her, as they shatter, her hoarse voice rings out in the small room.

“Sursum, terra deorsum, intrinsecus fumeis, screen me ab oculis peccatum!”

‘Sky above, earth below, smoke within, screen me from the eye of sin!’ As the pieces of porcelain fly, and the elixirs splatter and mix, a wall of smoke looms up between the pair, creating a thick swirling screen, giving Lycana the moment she desperately needed to breath, and assess the situation as she stares at the faint glow that can still be seen through the haze. The Harbinger, with the blue fire behind him, and the grey smoke before him, stands in wait, his sapphire eyes cutting through the vapors before him. She had put up more of a fight than any other he’d crossed before and now… this? Using magic of her own? Someone from the werewolf clan? Things were not as they appeared to be.

“What are you?” the Harbinger dared to ask, a sense of bewilderment in his tone. For the first time, he seemed almost… human.

“What are YOU?” came the reply from Lycana on the other side of the whirling smog, her own voice filled with puzzlement.

She leans back against the wall, gratefully taking the small break for what it was; a brief respite from his attacks. Was this the end? What would it be like to die? Would she just drift off into the wolf vision until she knew no more? Would that really be so bad? She was so tired, and the door… so far away. She thinks of all the things she will never do, never accomplish. All she leaves behind. Another face flashes in her mind's eye. Marf. He was already waiting for her, what would he do when she never showed? Would he think she abandoned him? Tears spring to her eyes at the thought. Would he go on to the ring alone, to face down the four others, regardless of the odds?

She makes a strangled noise, half giggle half sob. She knew he would. There was no quit in him. The thought of leaving him behind, when he would never quit on her… NO, it was her time now to not to quit on him! A small burning pit of rage opens in her belly, pounding up in her head as well. Resolve powers through her bloodstream as she takes a deep breath, letting the training Tempest had taught her take over. Think of Marf… she feels the rage once more...She had to try. Her jaw firms, but she remains in her submissive, cowed position as she waits. “Little one,” the Harbinger began, his eyes sparkling. “Come closer, and let me enlighten you.”

His hands spark to life once more with the same type of energy he had wielded before, but this time, instead of charging it into a blast, he keeps it self-contained within his fists. Sensing the end is near, Lycana seems to accept her inevitable fate as she remains cowering in the corner. The Harbinger moves through the fog, holding his breath in case it was some sort of toxic fume. Feeling no ill effects from the haze, the Harbinger smiles as he moves in for the kill. Too late did he realize Lycana was playing possum, leaping to her feet and extending her leg in one uncanny strike. The flat of her boot caught him under the jaw, sending him careening backwards and onto the fiery table. The table teetered over and gave way under him, sending him crashing down to the ground amidst the various vials, bowls, and crockery. He feels the broken pieces rip through his flesh, as he lays stunned, after landing on his head hard enough to send shockwaves through his body.

Seeing her chance to flee, Lycana speeds for the door, her eye catching Reika still hanging shackled to the wall, forgotten in the chaos. She skids to a stop, her gaze swinging wildly from her packmate, to the door, to the fallen Harbinger and back again. Her brain screams at her to save herself, while her heart bellows out to never leave family behind. In the end, Lycana’s loyalty wins out as she dashes over, plucking the keys to the shackles from their hiding space. She reaches Reika, quickly making sure the girl was still breathing, feeling a fast surge of relief as she realizes that she is indeed, still alive. Her heart galloping in her chest, she struggles with the lock on the first cuff, her hands trembling so violently she can barely fit the key in.

It releases with a satisfying clank, and she feels a surge of hope, perhaps this was going to go her way after all. Then she hears it behind her, the rustling of something amongst glass shards. She risks a glance and sees the Harbinger shifting among the broken pieces, blood dripping from his wounds, skin burned. Shaking even more now, she fights to insert the key, dropping the set instead, her heart going crazy, she grabs them up, dropping them again in her haste as if her fingers were coated in some slippery substance. Lycana felt the hands on her neck, pulling her to feet. She feels the strength draining from her once more before she is suddenly and roughly hurtling through the air, crashing into the side of the wall, the cabin shuddering upon her impact.

Lycana tries to catch her breath, blink away the darkness, feeling that lure to slip back into her slumber once more. Shaking her head, she looks up as she sees the Harbinger standing before Reika, the keys in his hand. He clicks the lock free, letting her fall helplessly into his arms. With a grunt, the Harbinger secures her easily within his grasp, the pain from his injuries severe. Casting a glance over his shoulder, his icy-cold gaze finds Lycana’s once more. “You want to know what I am child?” the Harbinger inquires, almost a smile flickering across his lips. “Let this be your unveiling of things to come.” His hand glows with that sapphire-like aura once more, as he waves it over Reika’s lifeless body.

The energy from his magic causes her body to jolt towards his touch, as he pulls her lifeforce from her body, healing his wounds. Lycana watches in horror as the glass shards in his skin harmlessly fall to the floor, the cuts and gashes closing on their own. Charred and burned flesh turning smooth and unblemished once more. She uses the wall as a brace for her back as she pushes to her feet, unable to take her eyes off the Harbinger healing himself, while using Reika’s life to do so. It was over, Lycana had nothing left to give, no more in the tank to try and save her packmate, even if she had been a traitor, she didn't deserve an end like this.

She seizes her chance, probably her last and bolts for the door of the cabin, crashing through with such force it slams against the outer wall and flies back at her, catching her one her hip and driving her to a knee. She digs her fingers into the snow and frozen dirt as she continues to propel herself forward, gaining her feet once more and running blindly towards the thicker section of woods. Once among the shadows, she looks back to see him standing in the open doorway. He slowly lifts his arm and points a finger in her direction, promising next time would be different. Her heart stills in her chest, before coming to life again with a hard thump.

Lycana spins on her heel and tears off through the woods, fear lending her feet wings. She makes a beeline for her house, slamming through the door frazzled, her hair and eyes wild. Only staying long enough to grab the bare essentials for a plane ride, she is back out the door, slipping under the cover of darkness through the woods once more, this time emerging into a more commercial area. She steps out nearly into the road to hail a cab, as horns blare at her. She ignores them, practically throwing herself into the back of the taxi that pulls over. The driver looks a bit concerned at her appearance but says nothing, deciding he might not want to know.

As they drive off towards the airport Lycana pulls out her phone, blinking as she notes the number of missed calls and texts she had, all from Marf. All increasing in intensity of worry. She pauses her scrolling. The rage... she had felt it. It had been his. At some point during her fight, she had opened the doors to her mind and he had stepped inside, able to see what she did, feeling all the intense emotions rushing over her. Likely when she had been thinking about him it had happened, then they had slammed shut when she continued to battle. He must think her dead! She forces her tired fingers to move across the screen, all she is able to manage is a simple ‘Safe. On my way.’ she hits send and closes her eyes, letting her head fall back against the seat as exhaustion consumes her.

Her feet crunch on the scattered pieces of gravel and asphalt as she makes her way towards the looming building. She holds her head up, hair streaming behind her like a banner in the breeze as she gets a few side eyed glances from the officers exiting from the end of their shift. It was possible they knew who she was, but were too tired to really give a crap, they had clocked out and it was time for someone else to deal with whatever was about to go down. They would hear all about it over the sludge provided called coffee the following day. Her fingers grasp the handle of the door, pulling it open and sailing inside, moving like a beacon to the front desk.

The brunette woman at the desk is typing, and slow to look up, but when she does, Lycana is no longer paying her any heed. She is studying the man standing behind her, back towards them deeper in the little cove of an office, shuffling through some paperwork. “Can I help you?” her voice was nasally, obnoxious. Lycana keeps her eyes focused beyond her as she responds. “No, but he can.” she nearly purrs the words. At the sound of her voice, his head whips up and around, body following. Their gazes clash and hold. Neither waver in their recognition for each other, the feelings of animosity, suspicion, and promise hovering like a tangible thing in the air between them.

“Lycana.” Oliver Danielsons voice is dry, humorless. But she would give him credit his voice wavered not a single bit. Of course, all he had spoken was a single word but she was feeling generous. She inclines her head. “You know why I’m here Oliver. Bring me to him.” she says, confidently. A storm cloud seems to pass in front of his face, his brow furrowing. “Are you mad? Why...” he stops. He frowns to himself and Lycana can practically see the wheels turning in his head. Still scowling, he continues. “I guess all visitors have to be considered.” he begrudges. Another guard who had just stepped into the room as back up looks at him aghast. “Sir?”

Oliver holds up his hand. “Nothing has been proven against her. Yet.” he admits with disgust. Lycana makes an ‘aww how cute’ expression at him. The guard goes to relay the orders. Oliver glowers as he comes out the office door, using his badge to open the door that leads down a long hallway. Lycana trips along just in front of him cheerfully, knowing he was keeping her in front of him for a reason, she glanced back to see his nervous expression. He thought her stupid. He was only letting her in to see Baphomet because he thought she might trip up and reveal something that might be of benefit to him. She internally claps her hands with glee. She did love a good game of who can outsmart who!

Too bad he was far outgunned in this little battle of wits. She had his number, but she would allow him to think he had the upper hand. It was just the right thing to do after all. She didn’t want to burst his bubble right out of the gate! That would be quite crass, and as Corey was always pointing out, she didn’t like to be such if she didn’t have to. He comes along side of her as they reach a nondescript door simply marked ‘Visitation’. She slows and stops, moving away while he again, swipes and opens it, motioning her through. As she complies, she sees that they are in the visitation room where there were cubicles, with a floor to ceiling barrier to prevent any form of contact between inmate and visitor.

Lycana settles down into a chair on the one side of the bulletproof barrier. It was almost as if they didn't trust the two of them together or something. A smile curves her lips and she demurely crosses her ankles and folds her hands in her lap, the very epitome of innocence and good intentions. She lowers her head, keeping watch over Oliver under her lashes, as he was whispering into a walkie talkie. How predictable. A door opening behind the barrier brings her face up as Baphomet comes into view, shackles clanking as he is led over to the chair across from her. He serenely follows commands from the clearly nervous looking agents, sitting down and staring through at Lycana with nary a glance in anybody else's direction. Oliver quits the room, waving most of the others out as well. Lycana waits a beat, anticipating the CIA agents scramble to the room with the cameras then leans forward to speak through the small holes in the glass.

“All is well?” she inquires. “Considering most of these men and women are trapped inside a worse prison than this place,” Baphomet begins “This isn’t much worse than anywhere else.” Lycana gives a short nod. “Things go... well. Much as before, but more confusion as to what occurs within the group. There are doubts about our survival. Most continue to scoff, to overlook us. They think they are safe now.” she plucks her words carefully, knowing very well there were ears other than theirs listening. “My dear.” Baphomet smiles “If the opinion of sheep swayed my convictions, I wouldn’t be who I am today. Our belief isn’t something that dies out like the light, even in my temporary absence, You and Marf, Geri, Andrew, and countless others remain loyal to that very belief. Think of this… imprisonment as… a vacation. Do you stop believing when you go to sleep at night? Do you stop believing when you take a trip to alleviate the stresses that come with our great work? I am more empowered than ever, and I now see that in my absence the weak have been purged from our order… and the true have remained. Now… this is a test. Can you manage your convictions against the great resistance that challenges your resolve?”

“You know better than all that my loyalty will never be called into question. I remain faithful to the Left Hand and all we stand for. I continue to press forward as planned. We are better off without those frail of convictions.” Lycana pauses. “The true test comes when those who are blind point fingers, jab that we are the sheep mindlessly following. Their eyes are open but they do not see!” Lycanas voice turns mournful as she speaks. “Good.” Baphomet says “I would never discount your loyalty. You have been making remarkable strides in our name but, right now, I want you to focus on you and your alliance with Marf. There is great potential in your union… and I believe that you may have misinterpreted what we do and what I expect from my people.” Lycana’s mouth opens, then snaps shut for a second as she contemplates Baphomet's words. “We are each a force, together… together we are more. The connection. It is unexplainable, even to one such as myself.” she stops, then pushes onwards. “We look to forge a path, to leave a trail of destruction in our wake. And yet, not appear to take the efforts of the Left Hand and our principles in vain as we could be accused by the brainless masses.”

“Lycana…” Baphomet’s eyes close in what seems to be frustration, “You must understand that the Left Hand is your family… that isn’t your identity. What I found intriguing about those I’ve approached to join me… was their personal individual potential… not to serve me, no, but to serve yourself. I’ve always wanted you to turn towards the dark inside of yourself and retrieve that potential to become the best version of you and more. The Left Hand is our order… but Lycana, you must remember that you do not follow me… none of you follow me… I wouldn’t want you to follow me. I want you to follow your heart to become your true self… only then do you become a contribution to the dark.”

“Yes, we all see it that way… but to be unable to make them see, those with shutters over their eyes, is...vexing.” she admits. “I allow them far too often to turn my head, to distract me from the desire to show who I am, regardless of the mocking. I am the wolf among the flock, the one who brings slaughter in the form of pain and violence. The one who cares naught for who stands before me, only to make them bleed before me. To bring those of weak mind to their knees. They will never understand what I am about, and I must accept that. They see only wins and losses as pinfalls, rather than what I count as a victory obtained.”

“Worry yourself not with these mortal problems, my child.” The Baphomet comforts her, “Nothing matters except the endgame. Not XWF… not Revolution… not professional wrestling. These places are simply to attract the most violent individuals to our cause and to our order. Let them talk and obsess over these material things, you must remember that they mock because they are afraid. They believe sowing doubt in your mind will achieve what they cannot achieve themselves… division in our ranks. They saw Ash Quinn and Tula betray us, so they believe it can be done again, but little do they realize… they have no future in our destruction… for our destruction has been nearly achieved by those much more resourceful than the XWF.”

“There will be no doubt to be found within my mind, that we shall succeed, and show all that our end game is far beyond what their minds can comprehend. Nor do I have doubts in my partnership with Marf. We will rise up, carving our way through the ones who think of nothing but their own pathetic achievements. Leaving a path of bruised and scarred bodies in our wake…” Lycana’s voice gains strength as she speaks. “He and I are as one with our aspirations and desires. Nobody will underestimate us when we are through with them, but it wouldn't matter if they did. All will learn in time, the lesson he and I shall bring. Of fury and vengeance. Snow Job will be a beautiful massacre.”

The Baphomet’s only response is a twitch of his lips in acknowledgement. He knew all the hidden meanings and nuances within Lycana’s words, cleverly veiled from those who would listen. Oh, one could understand if they followed the twists and turns, but it was doubtful anyone could. They would only hear the words spoken, taken at face value. Their eyes lock, and they give each other a nod of understanding. Unspoken and as one, as though their minds were connected, both raise their left hands, pressing them upon the thick glass barricade between them as if touching them to each other. Both of their facial expressions now, show signs of smirks, as the door bursts open and Oliver rushes back in with his little platoon.

“Okay, times up!” he seems prepared to throw her out physically, his hand moving to hover over his hip in an automatic reaction, as if she would leap at him, snarling to rip out his throat with her teeth. A tempting idea, but she was no lackwit. Instead, she removes her hand from the glass and rises gracefully to her feet. With one last glance at the Baphomet who is now being escorted back through the heavy steel door, she makes her way over to the CIA agent, pausing in front of him. She looks at him, and he looks back. For endless, uncomfortable moments they just stare at one another, neither backing down. Until the people around them start to shift about with unease, and Danielson himself starts to flinch, his face twitching... and then...

Lycana smiles. “I welcome you to try.” the words an open invitation, letting him take them as he would. She gracefully steers around him and walks out the door of the visiting room on her own accord. Oliver motions a guard who hurries along behind her, making sure she is actually leaving, not trusting her in the least. Lycana never pauses as she makes her way back down the long hallway, only stopping when she comes to the door that leads back out to the office area. The puffing guard catches up, swiping his badge to unlock it, holding it open for her. She moves into the opening and finally looks back down the hall, her eyes meeting Oliver’s one last time. She speaks, to what seems like the guard and the CIA agent alike “Thank you.” except it doesn’t seem like a simple expression of appreciation. And then she is gone.

The dinging signaling the planes descent wakes a still weary Lycana from the memory within her dreams. She blinks blearily barely remembering nearly falling from the cab, stumbling through the airport and boarding the plane. But she must have, because here she was landing in Wisconsin. She sighs as the plane comes to a halt at the gate, everyone rising to leave at once, but she remains until the crowd thins out a bit. She was still running on empty, despite her naps both in the cab and in the air. The crash from her adrenaline high was a killer. She flinches at that comparison. In any case, she was safe. For now. She didn’t doubt that he would be back... Hopefully she would be better prepared, but how one trained for that sort of thing, she had no idea.

She makes her way through the airport, following the masses that flock towards baggage claim. Having nothing for herself except a small carry on she veers in the opposite direction, her goal the main doors. As she looks up, her eyes settle on a figure towering over the rest, looking around with a worried expression on his face. His gaze collides with hers and sticks, as they move in an unerring line towards one another until they are within a foot apart. They both close that small gap at the same moment, Lycana dropping her bag to be pulled in close to Marf’s chest, enveloped in a tight hug. She closes her eyes as she simply lets herself feel the warmth of his body, and listens to the steady thump of his heart.

“I thought you were dead.” his voices rumbles in her ear on its place on his chest. Regretfully, they step apart. She picks up as bag as she replies. “Our opponents couldn’t get so lucky.” she jokes. In tandem they walk out of the airport towards the long row of cabs, just waiting for their passengers since the car he had gotten had died upon his arrival. “You can make a wisecrack about something like that? Lycana, I could feel everything. When I saw him coming towards you....” Marf’s voice trails off as anger colors the end of his words. Lycana sighs softly, making light of things was a sort of knee jerk reaction, at least when it came to her own mortality apparently. “I think I might still be in a bit of shock honestly.” she admits.

“I wasn’t there.” his words were blunt. Lycana shakes her head no. “Don’t blame yourself. I sent you ahead. I don’t know what this is, how to defeat him. If it is even possible to!” she pauses, “He can heal himself, using the soul. That’s what the old woman meant by stealing the soul, he takes it for his own.” Marf can only shake his head in bafflement. There was so much about her world that he didn’t really understand, and every time he thought he might have a grasp on it, here Lycana came with something more to throw at him. It seemed she had a never ending parade of new beings and paranormal creatures that he hadn't even known existed.

They slide together into the back seat of a cab, Marf giving the name of the motel he had settled at while waiting for Lycana. By unspoken agreement they remain silent for the ride there. The driver was already glancing back at them, probably wondering what he had done to deserve a pair like them to pick his cab. She stares out the window. His lucky day perhaps... he seemed a little nervous. Talking about supernatural beings trying to kill witches and werewolves alike might send him jumping out the window on the freeway. Come to think of it, maybe they were the reason he had such a lead foot. She had just assumed most cabbies did. She wasn’t going to complain in any case.

They are soon standing in front of the motel as the cab takes off, tires spinning in the gravel as the driver makes his getaway as quick as he could. Lycana stares impassively after it. “He was in quite the rush.” she remarks offhandedly. “I was staring at him the entire time to make him uncomfortable.” Marf replies as he takes her bag from her hand. Her head spins around to look at him as he studiously avoids her gaze. “That wasn’t very nice.” she can't suppress the amusement though her words are chiding. “Are we supposed to be?” he fires back. “Fair point! Very satanist like.” she agrees, as he leads the way towards their room for the next few days.

He chuckles softly in response, opening the door to the room and standing aside so she could enter first. She does so and immediately walks over to face plant on the bed, drawing a bigger laugh from him. “Tired?” he inquires, already knowing the answer. “Exhausted.” she says on a moan as she rolls her still complaining body over so she can look at him. “You rest then, I’ll be right out.” Marf tells her as he heads for the bathroom. She hears the shower fire up as she shifts and leans back into the pillows. People had made a lot of assumptions about what they were, and the fact that they were usually bunking together often probably attributed to that.

Lycana couldn’t really put any sort of name to what it was they had. It was friendship sure, but there was so much more than that. Their bond had been undeniable, from nearly the very moment they had started talking. Both had felt the pull, unable to resist it, allowing themselves to plunge down into the whirl of emotions that still had no names. Kindred spirits perhaps was the very best way to put it all in all. Now with the addition of the joining of their minds in truth, a joining that was above even her plane of understanding well... she had no clue what to categorize them as. All of this though, would have to wait for another time. Perhaps she would just close her eyes a minute...

Lycana is in full ring attire, striding through the backstage area of whatever Warfare event was going on. She seemed to have a particular destination in mind as her face is focused, eyes scanning the doors that lined the long hallway. Upon reaching one, she knocks sharply then waits. Nothing happens. She raps on the door with her fist once more. Same end result. The determined look on her face folds into a bit of scowl as she steps back. Well, that had not gone as she had hoped. She turns and goes back the way she came, a little less pep in her step this time. As luck would have it, as she turned the corner, her eyes alight on someone coming towards her. She perks up once more.

“Hello my dear Tommy! I was just looking for you!” Lycana chirps, coming to a stop with a smile. Tommy rolls his eyes. “Oh joy... What is it you could possibly want from me beasty?” If Lycana didn’t know any better, she would have said he sounded almost annoyed that she had come before him. She might have been affronted, so it was a good thing she knew better than that. “Why Tommy, I can't imagine you being anything but overjoyed to see me! We do have such fun together, no?” she continues as he opens his mouth, effectively cutting him off “I was merely coming to inquire about your health, and to be sure that our match was still on, of course. Me being the very epitome of kindness and all.”

“It just so happens that I’m in perfect health Lycana... if you’d like I can give you an example...” he says. Tommy spins around going up on his toes and grabbing his crotch then slides into a moonwalk. Lycana gives a polite little round of applause. “Oh good! You found where your balls were supposed to be!” she cheers. Tommy bows while keeping an eye on her to make sure she has no ill intentions. “That’s just the tip of the iceberg. There’s a lot I’ve found in the past week or so... but the rest is a surprise.” She snorts. “The only surprise is that you haven't launched into a monologue about how you found them. Perhaps you have taken up writing instead? Shall we expect a book? ‘How I Found My Balls; It Was Nuts’?” or something of the like?” she jabs.

Tommy reaches out and touches her hair. Lycana gives him a look, leaning away. “Oof” he says with a grin. “I was under the impression that you were a young woman... seems there’s a secret of your own hiding under that makeup and blue dye isn’t there Lycana?“ He rips a lone grey hair from her head, dangling it in front of her face. She smacks at his hand. “Blue fades to silver you moron!” she growls. What in the everlasting hell was going on here? “Why am I talking to you about hair dye?” she asks, almost to herself. “Why haven't you joined RMI?” he sends back. “..................what?” her jaw nearly hits the ground like a cartoon character as she gapes at him.

“I mean I can go on and on about all the perks of being signed with RMI the lifestyle that comes with. No more gloomy dungeon like castles, luxury flights... Manicures Pedicures, Personal Stylists. Have you seen how red Renees hair is? That shit aint natural and she just works in the office. Think about it Lycana, you could have your own line of hair care products. I’ve got a contact with St. Ives you know.” He smiles at her. Tommy turns his back and struts away. “My door is always open.” he calls back over his shoulder. Lycana starts laughing, quietly at first, until she has to sit on the floor in the middle of the hallway, tears streaming down her face from her fit of hysterics of the absurdity of it all.

She groggily opens her eyes at a small poke to find Marf up leaning on his elbow staring at her with a bemused expression. “I was dreaming. A weird dream.” she mutters. “Maybe from being around me so much.” he starts, “What about? You were cackling like a wicked witch, just like Corey probably thinks you sound.” Lycana aims a swat in his direction. Marf rolls to the side out of harms way, leaving the two laying companionably side by side as they spoke. “We do this a lot.” she remarks. It would probably blow people’s minds that the two interacted like this on a regular basis. But they couldn’t always be trying to hurt people, kill things, and drinking blood or whatever right? Not all the time anyway.

“The dream, Tommy Romeo wanted me to join RMI...” she starts, but a snorting sound that sounded suspiciously like Marf was holding back laughter stops her a moment. She looks at him, as he struggles to keep a solemn face. “Of course, I accepted.” she smiles as he narrows his eyes at her. It was her turn to look guileless as he shakes his head. “You and I both know much better than that. That sounds more like a nightmare. Who the hell would want to be around that loudmouth?” he fakes a shudder. “You want to tell me more about what happened last night?” he gently prompts, flipping into serious mode. “Not really, if I’m being honest.” she rubs her hand over her face. “Let’s put that aside until after Snow Job.” Marf simply agrees and drops the subject.

“We should do something tonight.” he declares, sitting up and swinging his legs over the side of the bed, to get to his feet and start pacing the room. “Like what?” Lycana follows his example, but perches on the edge of the bed, watching him go back and forth. “Something to help put you in the mood for Snow Job...” his voice starts to take on that sinister timbre that she knew and loved. Her eyes start to glitter in anticipation. “What are you thinking?” she asks, hopeful that he would divulge what was going through his mind. He just turns to her with a smirk, extending his hand. “Come on, I’ll show you instead.” his voice was laden with promise. Without hesitation, she takes his hand and follows.

TBC

PRESENT TIME

“Here we are, the final time to really let it all out before Snow Job. The time to give our lasts thoughts, make the last threats, throw out all the parting shots we have before the true test really begins. Six of us will enter, but only two can walk out holding the Tag Team titles. Who will it be? Will it be the champion and the kid who is his rather unwilling partner? The ones with their eyes on the pretty pieces of metal and their heads in the sky? Or will it be the ones that everyone calls the long shots? The newcomers to the XWF? The Dissentients, who are walking into this with only one goal in mind: to demolish anyone's body that happens to be standing in front of us.

While we take a lot of pride in our goals, to maim and injure anyone we choose to... to lay down a world of hurt on whoever get in the ring with us, we are certainly not denying that those gold belts would look pretty damn nice strapped around our waists as a bonus. But what I am most looking forward to, would have to be the added excitement of having all the beautiful instruments of destruction in the ring with us. Tables, ladders, and chairs! Think of all the possibilities that can be had with such goodies! I hope you all can see beyond the end result, and glory in what we can provide to one another in between the ringing of the bells.

We can make music in the arena. The sounds of wooden tables splintering into pieces, bodies crashing to the mat from ladders, flesh giving way to metal, the sounds of screams ringing high up to the rafters! We can put on a show like nobody has ever seen before, we can push each other to our very limits. Test the boundaries and then knock them down. We can bring the entire arena down with this match, leave all six of us wonderfully bruised and battered. All relishing the aftermath of the brutality... well, that might just be me. I’m shocked my Corey hasn’t really been talking about it. I think I might actually be a little disappointed about that. Perhaps he’s jealous I favor his partner this time...

Let's just get the worst chore over and done with, and talk about Thunder Knuckles. Getting through him and onto people who matter, AKA anyone else, probably feels akin to coming inside and getting a treat after scooping a yard full of dog crap. With your bare hands. In 100 degrees. You get my point. I suppose I could get some more quips in about TK and doing just about anything for some X-Bux, but I suppose that would be harping on it too much. Just like the number of times he tries to call us Satanist cucks in some variation, you know, for spice. But I mean, just imagine what would happen if someone were to hang a wad of Bux from a drone and fly it around the stadium.

Ol’ TK would show a hell of a lot more skill and talent trying to get his hands on that than he does in the ring. I’m still trying to wrap my head around your stupidity. First, you said The Left Hand sucks... then you said BoB ran off all the heroes before we got here, making it too easy for our success. All in the same breath. Which is it? Good lord, let throw in the fact you yell about how you haven’t been here forever... but still call yourself a legend with Bourbon and Doc, and somehow, someway... you expect me to take you seriously? At this point TK, I'm not sure I’m ever sure you're going to be able to find the ring without Bourbon steering you in the correct direction.

I’m actually pretty glad that you ‘didn't waste any more time’ on me TK, making it to the end of your promo was hard enough, I’m not sure I would have survived more. I mean, I dig pain and all, but I think your promos might be my hard limit. I think your half of the tag name should be The Redundant Bastard. Is that too big of a word for you? I’m really trying to say all this in a way you might understand, since comprehension really seems to be an issue for you. Don’t feel bad though, Corey had some issues this time around as well, and he sure as hell is smarter than you... so don’t feel left out that you didn’t understand while the adults were talking buddy!

Ahh Mr. Bourbon, you are a true pleasure to behold when you get going. Talking about how I own my sexuality and calling me sultry and all. I’m starting to think you might have feelings! Why, you might just turn my head away from my precious Corey! Except... you said I was fucked? Didn’t Corey say that? Corey said that. How come you had to go and swipe that from him if you're the original one? I’ll give it to you that you did one thing nobody else did... and that was literally just talk about my sexual preferences and how I own them the entire length of your promo. For no reason whatsoever, considering I never spoke about it in mine. Maybe my threats got you all steamed up?

I mean, if my mere words get you that mind frame, and it's all you think about, I might be back to almost being flattered. Imagine what will happen when we get in the ring and I actually deliver! Why, you might go into throes right then and there! You sure do know the way to my heart as well, with all the sweet promises of flinging me through the crowd, and what have you. You almost had me with it, almost! But then you went off again, and this time mentioned Hot Topic. Which... you swiped from TK. Who... swiped it from Corey. I mean, it's fine and all... but for one who got on me for originality you probably should have tried just a little harder to be that yourself. Just saying.

I came into this with the greatest of hopes in you, out of the duo of BoB, you know... because you can actually do standard daily things without the need for assistance unlike TK, but... you disappointed me. For all the hype your trash talk gets I was left expecting... better. More. I'm sure that’s a feeling a lot of women get around you. I was waiting for this great heat to be brought, to be left with just the barest fizzle. Another great disappointment... how you don’t respect someone who would at least try to kick your ass. You cant handle that someone would be willing to step up to you? Bravo for shouting out that you have ahhh... size issues, without saying you have size issues! A bold admission from the big man!”

Lycana gives a jaunty round of applause, clearly impressed with Bourbon.

“My good doctor, there is no shame in climbing the ladder and getting pushed down as long as you keep getting right back to it. You of all people should know that! Remember, you started down in the lower levels as you put it, as well. Did you not seize whatever chance came your way to prove your worth? To learn and experience and take what you could from it all? I am not like the ones who give up when knocked down, the ones who run crying to all that it wasn’t fair and they were screwed somehow. No, I get right back up and come back for more. There is no quit in me when it comes to dancing in that ring, no losses, I win or I learn. Often times both.

My knowledge grows with each blow landed. I had thought you able to appreciate those with true hunger. Alleviate your blindness long enough to see those who would not settle among the mediocre, no matter how long it took them. I imagine you were one once. Your place at the top may have caused you some forgetfulness, in what it was like to be a starving wolf, licking his lips in anticipation of the hunt. While you, like all the others, might think we do not belong in this match, and should come meekly to slaughter or perhaps no show at all... the fact is, we are in this match. In this match to give it our all with not a single shred of fear in either of us. The glow of opportunity beckons and we chase it.

You Doc, are the crowning glory in this match. You are the actual champion, the myth, the legend. The only damn one who could ever hold me in thrall of my four opponents. You are the one I would chase into the darkness of his own creation, meet all his mindfuckery with joy, just to step toe to toe with you in the ring. But I didn’t have to do any of that, the opportunity was presented and it is not something I will squander. I see this as our first meeting Doc, regardless of the outcome... I can see more time together in our future, because either way... I will have more to prove, or I will be holding something you will want back... and you will be forced to come to me.

You speak of us acknowledging and appreciating your tenure within the XWF, and that is correct... we do. Come the end of Snow Job, you will be acknowledging that you sorely misjudged us. You will be appreciating the fact that we decided to leave you in however many pieces we did. We aren't just knocking at your door Doc, we are looking to smash it down. I want you to show me everything you are. I want you to whip off the mask and reveal the absolute abyss of atrocities below. Am I perhaps deranged? Delirious? Unhinged? Most certainly! I am, in the very least all that and more... for I would love nothing more, than a good session with the doctor.”

Lycana does a little twirl, coming to a stop and pressing her hands to her cheeks in feigned glee.

“Of course, I will always save my cherished Corey for last! He is quite special to me after all, and I know he feels the same for me. He is adorable with how he tries so hard to get me to notice him. My sweet, sweet love... don’t you know that I am always watching for you? Look at you, pointing out my swears from my last promo, just as I knew you would! I mean, I kind of did it all for you and even said so... it would have been a bit remiss of you to just ignore it completely. Of course, you purposely dropped the fact of me mentioning that I’m willing to do whatever it takes to get my point across and that’s why I took my little foray into the juvenile, but that’s just another fun thing you do!

I enjoy that you decided to list some items that you think are far from my reach of understanding. Beauty for one... isn't that in the eye of the beholder? Shit, is that a cliché? I'm sure you will tell me if it is. I see beauty in many things. Yes, in pain, in torture, in the way a blood droplet falls just so... but also in things like the way the moon bathes everything in its glow, casting them all as if they were made of silver. Selflessness, there have been many times. I don’t expect you to believe me, you see the facets I choose to present and run with them, which is how I allow it to be. Can't let you in on all my secrets, too soon now can I? Need to keep the allure alive within our little relationship! Keeps you coming back for more and all that!

Yes Corey, the Left Hand is a family... we support each other and work for our common goal. But we are all individuals as hard as that might be for you to understand. I mean, let's take you and Thad, I would assume he is like family to you. Are you, in fact, able to make your own choices and do... your own thing without him, but still work together? It is an amazing concept isn't it? All I ever see with you, is fluttering about, shrieking about how it should be your turn and you want first dibs. When nobody answers you, you begin to tantrum like a little toddler who soiled himself. It is not all about you Corey! My gracious apologies that your shit filled diaper was not attended to promptly.

Oh, and darling... I never said YOU talk in cliches. I said you were king of inane stereotypes, and complain about my cliches... please try to pay better attention, I certainly wouldn’t want to compare you to someone on TKs level of intelligence.

Then off you go, bounding in to examine the team and our dynamic, wanting to know just what makes us quite so bonded. It is the fact, my cherub, that we are of one mind when it comes to how we view matches. What we enjoy. What we are here to do. It was his mission when he joined as well as mine, before we even set eyes upon each other. That is what makes what we have as The Dissentients not your average teaming. It’s as simple as that. Dare I say... written in the stars? Oh no, another cliched term? Damn. Are you keeping a scorecard or something? Anyway... that very reason should be simple enough for you to understand, but in case your mind is feeling feeble I’ll spell it out for you.

‘Our end goals are in perfect alignment.’

Moving right along... I never said the Engineer was stronger than you. I said I wish I was meeting him in the ring. That you really held no claim to him. I do enjoy how you try and spin things around to suit you, always keep trying my dearest! The Engineer was legend, but you are the one who is always saying he was a part of you, but no longer. HE was legend. Not you. You will perhaps get there on your own, as just Corey Smith... but you cannot say you are not him and try to claim his fame at the same time. You are not of the standing of The Engineer. You cannot have it both ways! Pick one. Who is coming to that ring? Am I meeting the Engineer... NO. I am not.

As for your challenge... I speak for myself, another fruitless endeavor. Why should I accept this from you? Because you have some misguided notion that your opinion of me means something? A wolf doesn’t lose sleep over the opinions of sheep... dammit there's another, okay I admit it, I did that on purpose. Quite frankly Corey, most ignore you because you are as a pesky gnat buzzing around the ear, swatted away with no mind given. Because in the bigger picture, you mean nothing. We don’t care about you or your war. Truly, you will just run about making claims anyway, so what does it matter? You are a plaything to me, one who has built himself up to higher importance than he actually is under the jabs of one he says he deems unworthy.

Snow Job is upon us... there will be no more words, only action. We are coming to make our names known, to make our marks, and leave our opponents hurting and we will leave with nothing less. I hope you are all ready.”