She had to draw her focus back, get on track, finish out the mission that the Baphomet had started within the XWF. A small flash of red gives her pause, the little fox emerges fully from the brush, stopping on the trail in front of her, a rat clenched firmly within his jaws. She cannot help but allow a smile to curve her lips upwards. She too had a rat to prey upon, but her hunt was still to come, the end result would be the same. The body rendered lifeless after its encounter with her. This particular rat, would come to regret its very existence, because she had many games to play with it before dealing the killing blow. The fox and Lycana regard each other for long moments, until he lowers his head, scurrying off with his prize leaving the walkway clear again. She moves forward, catching a glint of light up ahead, reflecting off something. Her destination.

She steps out into the clearing, squinting a little at the blinding sun sparkling on the surface of the water even while the sky turned colorful, celebrating its departure. She wasn’t sure what led her here, to the deep crater, what was left of an extinct volcano that served as a nature reserve. People flocked to it for its themed trails. She had wandered them all, not seeing anything. Past the smaller lakes. Over numerous hills. Ignoring the children clambering around all the dinosaur statues that held them in thrall. Something was drawing her here, to this particular lake, Lago Grande, but she wasn’t sure what it was. She carefully picks her way down to the edge, looking out over the surface, as smooth as glass, still baffled as to why she was guided here.

She stares down into her reflection, pondering before it finally dawns on her. She straightens, looking around. Of course! There had to be most of the foliage here that she needed, it was just a matter of finding them. She clambers back up the slight slope, furiously hunting down what she needed as the light faded even more. She returns to the waters edge, hands full of greens. She dumps them off, trying to eyeball the amounts she needed. She pulls a matchbook from her pocket, striking one to life before lowering it and setting the small pile ablaze. She settles down near it, breathing deep of the smoke before starting her quiet chant, feeling the doors to her mind open, nerves tingling.

She takes in one more lungful of the burning greens before turning to the water once more, sinking to her knees in the mud by the edge, totally ignoring it. Despite her eagerness, she gently places her left hand atop the water, barely breaking the surface. Ripples begin around her hand, slowly panning outwards, the image of her distorting, changing, until it no longer was a reflection at all. Staring back her instead, only disturbed by the faint motion of the water was the symbol of the Left Hand. A gentle swish of her hand sent it scattering, to be replaced with something new, she knew what it was long before the motion stopped enough for it to be totally clear to the eye.

The door of the locker room flies open, and a vaguely familiar figure bursts through, surrounded by armed agents all pointing their guns at the Left Hand. They surround The Baphomet, willing to take on even this threat, but they are waved back. Oliver... the name comes to her now, the one who just seemed to wander around, explained now. The Baphomet simply drops to his knees, allowing himself to be handcuffed, with a casual remark, seemingly unperturbed by the goings on. Oliver seems to try and haul him to his feet, and Lycana’s anger bubbles up and over... she steps into Oliver’s personal space, snarling her promises under her breath, guns turning in her direction, uncaring in her recklessness. A hand on her arm from Marf, gently pulling her back. The words from the Baphomet, making his desires clear. Carry on. Carry on the work without him. She remembers looking up into Marf’s eyes, her concern reflected back at her within his tumultuous blue ones. They step out to watch the Baphomet led off, the glare exchanged between he and Tommy Romeo. The wink Oliver tossed at the blowhard...

Wait... a wink? As if reading her mind, the scene rewinds, and replays... the wink from Oliver towards Tommy Romeo now branded within her brain. A low growl bubbles in her throat. He had something to do with this, she was willing to bet anything on it. Her mission to destroy the fool had just moved up a notch on her list. He had gone from a simple annoyance, a gnat buzzing about her head, swatted aside... to a braying jackass. One who screamed to all who (didn’t) listen, to join him within the fight for the XWF, against the Left Hand. One who drew her ire. To one who she was tasked with destroying by Her, the Baphomet's Goddess.

Now, oh now that mission had much more meaning for her. That bullseye on Romeo had just grown. She would not only tease and torment the fool before she finished him.. Now she would do everything within her power for him to cry out for the cessation of pain. And she would deny him. Over, and over again. Nothing but denial, until the moment he broke for her... and even still, he didn’t deserve her mercy. Lycana’s loyalty was fierce, and he was going to taste the results of this action of his much sooner than he expected. Perhaps he felt powerful with his little friends at his back. That’s what everybody said right? She knew damn well he couldn’t handle himself on his own... but that’s where he was going to find himself. Alone, and vulnerable in the ring, face to face with her. Before she was done, she would have her answers straight from the fools bloodied mouth.

Swish goes Lycana’s hand.

The Baphomet, walking slowly around the small cell. He seems unconcerned, his hands clasped behind his back as he takes measured paces. The din surrounding him, a cacophony of sounds assaults her ears. He stops, and moves over to the bunk, settling down in a meditative position. He seems to stare directly into her for a moment. He closes his eyes, and she can see him take a deep breath in, before exhaling and relaxing into a zen state. His breathing becomes measured, the wails around him fading. The screams, the curses, the slurs, the threats. All slowly blotted out by his sheer willpower, the power of his presence and his calm, a balm to her soul. Again, his last words come into her mind “You know what to do.”

She did. And she would. Even without the Baphomet there in person, they would be there to show the Left Hand’s presence. They would be there to remind everybody that just because he was gone, the whole thing would not fall apart. When the foundations shook, the strong walls still remained standing. Their mission was still as it was, the mantle of the Left Hand was on all of their shoulders now, worn heavier than before, but prouder than ever. They would show Baphomet that he had chosen wisely in them. They were more than just a group, they were individuals first, each bringing their own set of strengths to the table, pillars that held the roof up and over them. The roof over it all, was that they were a family. A fact that so many were blind to... or ignorantly chose to see it differently.

Swish.

Her own face once more, but younger and hopeful. She could see the gentleness about her own eyes. She had been vulnerable then, just wanting to blend into things to avoid confrontation, confused as to what the burning, sour sensation in the pit of her stomach meant. She thought it had been weakness, she had been wrong. Under her gaze the image slowly transforms into that of a wolf, with brightly hued eyes. Its lips curl back in a snarl, a promise to those who crossed its path. The wolf shimmers, fading away with the light undulations of the water, until it smooths back to a mirror surface, leaving Lycana staring back at herself, behind her, a wall of fire rages. A shadowy figure steps up next to her, raising his head to reveal his face. Marf. They stand firm together, as chaos ensues around them, embers swirling about.

She lifts her hand from the water and the vision immediately disappears, leaving nothing to hint at what it had shown her. She leans back, thinking on what she had both seen and learned. It might not seem like much to the untrained eye, but it spoke volumes to Lycana. She had both gained answers, but had added a multitude of questions as well. She blinks, looking around realizing that true dusk had fallen while she was preoccupied. She rises, splashing water to wash most of the muck from her legs. She had to get back and find Marf, and tell him what she had viewed, and what she thought it meant. There were plans to be hatched, decisions to be made.

She climbs back up the hill towards the pathway, marveling that nobody had found her. Security was obviously lacking. Either that or they just didn’t care if some fool was fumbling around in the dark woods. What was someone going to do? Make off with the statue of the Parasaurolophus? Actually, Lycana might not put that by someone. Crazier things had happened. She retraces her steps, focused on the ground before her. She is nearly to the entrance of the preserve when something causes her head to jerk upwards. Standing on the moonlit path was a lone figure, motionless, in the middle, facing her. She stops, bewildered. Perhaps this was some sort of guard? But why wouldn’t they be yelling at her?

Cautiously, she continues onward, only taking her eyes off the person to furtively glance around the woods to make sure she didn’t have any other company she wasn’t aware of. As she draws nearer, it becomes clear that the figure is that of an elderly woman, gaunt and slightly hunched, her thinning hair making a fine halo around her head. Clouded eyes bore into Lycana as she leans on her cane, holding it with both hands out in front of her. Lycana stops a good distance away, not really sure what was going on. “Tu es ille in corde lupus est.” The voice certainly matched her appearance, wavering in the air between them. Lycana tilts her head. ‘You are the one with the heart of the wolf.’

She simply nods, wondering how this woman knew of her. She draws herself up as straight as she can, her eyes never wavering from Lycana’s face. “Cave venit in omnibus nobis.” Lycana nearly steps back at the vehemence in the womans cracking voice. “Who? Who is coming for us all? Who are you?” confusion colors her tones. The old woman steps closer to Lycana, looking up at her now, her diminutive height barely bringing her up to the younger woman's chin. “Beware the one with the blue runes. The Harbinger comes, and he consumes the soul.” she whispers the words almost desperately. Lycana recoils slightly as she brings a gnarled hand up to try and touch her cheek. “I am one of you girl, let me show you.” With only a moment more hesitation, Lycana stands still allowing the woman to put her hand on her face. She lets out a yelp as she feels herself fall into the vision, as if she was in the same room.

The young girl was completely absorbed in her work, gathering all too familiar ingredients as she created and tested out antidotes on the man chained to the wall. It seemed none had taken so far, as he was sagging, limp, coughing feebly. The tiny blond kept up a cheerful chatter, telling the man just what she was doing, and how it was different from all the others they had tried. “This one will be it; I just know it!” she practically giggled as she plucked petals and tossed them into the bowl bubbling over a small burner. She gives it a stir, then dips a cup into it, bringing it over to the chained man. She offers it, and he clenches his lips together. She frowns. “Oh, don’t be so difficult. I put honey in this one. Look, I'll even cool it for you.”

She makes a great show of blowing on the steaming liquid before raising the cup to his lips once more. Again, he refuses her. She lets loose with a long-suffering sigh. “Then we do this the hard way.” She sticks her thumb into the corner of his mouth, pressing her nails into his cheek until he opens his mouth to moan in pain. She wastes no time in shoving his head back and pouring the cup over his open mouth, some of the hot liquid sliding down his throat as he gasps and sputters, the rest splashing across his face. He lacks the strength to even cry out, so just ends up babbling like a baby as the blond rises and tosses the cup aside. She holds her arms out. “There, was that so difficult? Let's see if it works, hmm? Then you'll be owing me a thank you!” She pauses. “Or you'll be dead. Either way, you should be thanking me.”

When she gets no response, she shrugs her shoulders and turns back to her table, muttering “Ungrateful.” under her breath. She chews on a fingernail as she scribbles in a notebook humming an inane tune as she occasionally glances over her shoulder to see if anything had happened to the man yet. Finally, he seems to straighten up, a pained noise that resembled a dying walrus coming from his mouth. She whirls around, crouching before him, absorbed at watching him writhe about in convulsions. The door to the room opens a fraction and closes silently, a shadow slipping into the room as silently as a cat. Lycana’s eyes widen, instantly sensing the danger. She desperately tries to warn the young girl, but she is merely a specter, so her frantic actions are wasted so she shrinks back into her spot. All she can do, is watch helplessly.

The figure is tall, shrouded in an all-black hooded cloak as he slinks around, against darkened walls in the candlelit room. He comes right up by Lycana, but all she can see in the gloom is the bottom half of a bearded face as he moves by her, approaching the blond with all the grace of a stalking panther. Something must have given his presence away, because at the last moment her head jerks around, her body following as she whirls, coming from her crouch into a fighting stance. He doesn’t miss a beat, lunging for her as she dodges, grabbing the empty cup from the floor and lobbing it at his head. She misses by a mile, and it sails harmlessly over his shoulder.

He doesn’t flinch as he marches steadily towards her. She scrambles around the other side of her table, throwing various objects at him. He easily ducks and deflects swatting items right out of the air, maintaining his advance as she works to keep the table as a barrier between them. She eyes the door of the room, her feelings streaming across her face as she assesses her odds of getting to it, and freedom. She breaks for it, but doesn’t get very far. Like a flash he is there, his hand darting out at lightning speed to grasp her ponytail and send her crashing backwards onto the floor. She kicks out frantically at him, some of them landing on their intended target as she tries to clamber away.

She rolls onto her belly and manages to get to her hands and knees, crawling desperately for the door now. He grasps her ankle and hauls her backwards, her hands scrambling to find purchase on the smooth wooden floor. He is relentless, yanking her underneath him as he drops to his knees, straddling her. She flips onto her back as he does so. Her arm jabs forward, and he shifts just in time, the dagger she had managed to scoop up burying itself into the heavy folds of his cloak instead of the flesh she had been aiming for. She starts crying now, begging for him to let her go as she twists her body, bucking wildly against his pin, still fighting vainly to escape.

He speaks to her, but too softly for Lycana to hear the words. Whatever it was, seems to give the petite blond a surge of adrenaline, as she starts clawing at him anew, thrashing about while her desperate screams turn into an incoherent jumble of noises mixed with pleas for mercy. It is not enough to budge him, she is far too slight to match his strength... and far too new to have any real powers yet. He swats her flailing arms away and grabs her head, holding tightly to her temple area. She abruptly stops fighting, her arms falling away as a stunned look comes across her face. Her lips make a small ‘O’ of surprise, the terror in her eyes fading away to leave a glassy stare.

A blue glow starts to emit from the mans extended arms, and Lycana realizes they are marked with runes, previously invisible in the darkened room, now glowing bright. The blond seems to come back to herself, picking her fight back up, but feebly, her eyes alight with awareness until they are not. She fades into stillness once more. Lycana stares, taking it all in, uncomprehending just what was happening before her. The eyes told her their tale... going from terror, to stunned, back to fear, then unwilling acceptance before the spark in them fades forever. The runes dim as he lets go, letting her head fall back onto the floor with a thud.

He turns his attention to the old man shackles to the wall, still vibrating wildly in the throes of whatever had been in the potion the now dead blond had forced down his throat. The cloaked man lowers himself down onto his haunches, reaching out to grasp the tormented man's head, runes starting up their glow again. The results, are far different this time. He looks up into the cloak, his own eyes going wide before a calm washes over his face. Lycana is stunned to see a bright smile cross his face, his eyes light up with nothing but pure joy before his face goes slack and he goes limp within his shackles, his life gone. The man rises, the only one among the living in the room now, alone with the invisible Lycana.

As if sensing her, his head turns towards her. The eyes gleam bright blue in the hood, and she feels herself falling forward, as if pulled along by a rope she cannot see until all there is before her is the dark recesses of the hood, and those glowing blue eyes. She can almost feel his hands on her head as the desire to struggle starts to overpower her, mixed with an odd feeling of relaxation. It's different now, no longer vision, it almost feels like a memory, like it was actually happening to her. A memory. A memory of the old woman? She struggles to separate herself. Confusion whirls around her as she feels nauseous, and the world starts to go black.

Lycana returns to the present with a gasp, falling to her knees as she retches in the dirt, alone once more, but the elderly womans words seem to echo all around her. “Beware, the Harbinger. Beware!” The word pulses in time with her wildly thumping heart as she slowly rises on shaky legs. She didn’t understand what she had just witnessed, other than the death of one of Cate’s order, one of her own... shown to her by one who had also fallen prey to this Harbinger. But who? And why? And even more importantly... WHAT? She stumbles forward, her only aim now to get out of the preserve, and back to her partner to tell him everything.

Sometime later, Lycana has stepped out of the taxi, and is left staring at the motel Marf had chosen for them. She eyes it, looking back down at her phone confirming she had the name correct. Indeed, it was. She trudges forward, walking by the office glancing inside to see an older man, sporting what appears to be a pair of shiners, clutching a gun to his chest as he rocks back and forth on his stool. Lycana’s eyebrows shoot up as she gives herself a slow nod. Yup... seemed about right with how the rest of the day had gone. At this point, the disreputable and quite questionable motel was the very least of her concerns. She strolls along, keeping her eyes on the numbers of the doors until she reaches the right one. She knocks lightly, and it opens immediately, as if he had been waiting for her. She slips into the darkness and is gone.

“Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. We will never forgive those who broke trust. As they revel within their perceived glory, they should keep in mind, hell hath no fury. In the darkest hour, right before dawn life comes full circle... their time is almost gone. They have led themselves to the cusp of their own destruction. Sooner or later, they will have to face the storm of their own making. They want a fight... we will bring a war. And they will be destroyed in the most beautiful way possible. Until that occurs... they should keep an eye on their backs. You never know when I may come calling. Time won't help you... my retribution has no deadline.”

Lycana stands with one hand on the window of the motel room, keeping the curtain swept aside so the moonlight can bathe her in its subtle glow. She stares out into the night, her expression unperturbed now, her earlier state being replaced by a deadly calm exterior.

“But those are not the only ones. No, the list grows ever longer... but do not think you can breathe a deep sigh of relief just yet. No Tommy Romeo... I have not forgotten about you. Far from it. You still reside at the top of my list, more so now after today. You said to give you a month... nearly two weeks of that has ticked away, so I do hope you have been putting some training in. Or are you going to beg off, claiming need for still more time to ‘get your affairs in order’? Lock your lovely little ladies up tight Romeo, you wouldn’t want something unfortunate to happen to them in the crossfire now would you? This is assuming, of course, that you do indeed grow the balls enough to face me.

Or are you all bark and no bite? You have run around the XWF, endlessly running your mouth, begging for people to join you. Telling the world what a star you were and all about whatever little fed it was you came from. When put on the spot... you suddenly clam up and disappear like you contracted the world's worst case of laryngitis. It was a pleasure for everybody, I assure you, not to hear your whiny cries for an extended period of time, regardless of my disappointment in you. I should have expected it, I suppose. But whatever you have to do with darling Oliver, I will figure it out, and there will be no more running and hiding from me.

Speaking of hiding. Oliver Danielson... You are invisible no more. You threw off your cloak in stupendous fashion, hoping to take out the leader, but in doing so you have left yourself vulnerable to the rest of us. If you call one wolf, you invite the pack, and now sweet Oliver all eyes are on you. What will you do now that your obscurity has been compromised? Will you still try and sneak about? Will you simply vanish without a trace, never to be seen again? Hoping that your badge and title are enough to keep you safe from harm? They are not. Consider yourself a marked man. Who knows what sort of unfortunate... accidents... could befall you? You might trip and fall right into the hands of Marf. Not a place you'd enjoy being, I’d imagine.”

Lycana turns from the window, after giving the curtain a small tug so enough moonlight comes in, that she is still visible. She takes a few paces over to the bed, which Marf is sprawled across, the sheets tangled about his muscular frame. Her face softens as she allows a small smile to cross her lips.

“I watched his violence and was intrigued; I knew then I needed to know more. Then came our match, testing each other's mettle on the battlefield that is the squared circle. I knew then, he was of the rarest type. He looked my demons in the eye and smiled. He liked the very thing most fear. I knew then, that I needed to stand side by side with him. We are strong, each in our purpose, and we are all the more powerful together. Together we fight, together we will rise. He is one I know I can count on with all things, which makes us all the more dangerous. That unshakeable trust we have in one another, is the very thing lacking within the two we will face on Warfare.”

She settles herself on part of the free space on the mattress, tucking her legs underneath her as she continues to speak.

“Alias and Jenny Myst. An unlikely duo from all outward appearances. Not who I expected when he was talking about who his partner was going to be, but I won't complain about it. I’d never walk away from the chance to get my hands on Jenny in the ring. Alias at least has the boldness to actually come for the Left Hand, but Jenny...? Well, Jenny has a history of running from us. Perhaps you might inspire her Alias, make her feel like she’s safe and protected having you as her partner... but considering her reaction when you said her name, I’m not holding out much hope of that. Maybe I’m wrong, maybe she does want this.

One can only hope.

Ah Jenny, let me guess what it's going to be. ‘Lysol and Barf'? Or are you going to swipe something from someone else? We all know you can't be original. Perhaps a long tirade about the ‘goth kids’. Something about Kool-Aid? Insert about a dozen other cliches here. Am I right? Add in some pity party, a touch of Shooting Star title loss, and a whole lot of egotistical talking about herself and there you have it! There is the entirety of your long-winded Jenny Myst promo against The Dissentients summed up in a couple short sentences. Of course, there are sooooo many variants. Maybe she will go wild and start talking about how we are just followers. How the Left Hand means nothing within the XWF. A whole bunch of toddler-esque insults that she thinks are terribly scintillating. How we are just all so pathetic compared to you?

How am I doing Jenny? Am I getting this right? Are you THIS predictable?

If we are lucky, maybe she will talk about her tag team partner. That would at least be more interesting than her typical dribble about the Left Hand. And ‘her’ belt that is currently around Geri’s waist and how long she held it before losing it. I fully expect that is all her promo is going to be. Her whining about the belt.

The dethroned queen, still crying about technicalities when it was a mere technicality that had you hanging onto your belt in the first place after High Stakes. If you didn’t pass out, it only would have been a matter of time until you tapped out to Geri. She had you locked in, and there was nowhere for you to go. The same applies to Warfare, once you are in the ring with us. Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. Are you even focused on this match or are you looking right on by to Snow Job, and salivating to try and get your precious gold strap back? It appears your life nearly depends on that glittery adornment. Without it, what in the world is Jenny Myst?

Nothing.

The answer is nothing.

With or without the belt, it is all she talks about. The sole thing to give her purpose, that seems to give her any worth. She hides her true self behind both it, and her immature taunts. The fact that she has no identity beyond it, nothing of value to speak of. She opens her mouth and one wonders how she has made it quite so far... The mixture of the basest fishwife and mentally challenged imbecile seems to get worse with every attempted jeer. She tries so hard to sound clever. Then again, she seems to have taken up with Ash Quinn, that's enough to make anybody sound smarter than they are by comparison. They gravitate towards one another, Jenny knowing she looks better by contrast and Ash thinking she's elevated by sharing the edge of her spotlight.

But we all know Jenny doesn’t actually share her spotlight. All eyes on her, and her alone, needing all the attention and praise to feel notable, to feel that she actually means something to someone. Anyone. Given half the chance she would shove Ash right back on her ass out in the cold, if she knew it meant something would go her way. She acts like she's brave, but when the tides start to turn, she heads for the hills. So put on that brave face Jenny, you have only had the merest taste of what I'm capable of in the ring. You have only met the acquaintance of Ash when she was at her very best, as sad as that was, while in our ranks... Trust me when I say, what she did is nothing compared to what I’m going to do, it'll look like child's play.

Smack you in that empty head with a chair? Oh yes.

Plow you spine first through a table just so I can hear you scream? You bet.

Whip you with chains until your flesh splits and your blood flows freely? Of course!

I would break every bone in that pretty little face of yours and not bat an eyelash. I have no restraints. No conscious. Nothing to hold me back when it comes to you. There is only one single thing, that may stand between me and doing all the things I wish to you.”

Lycana tilts her head and smiles sweetly.

“Hello Alias. I do hope you’re a dear and allow me to have some fun with your partner before you have to rush in and save her. I like her much, much less than you after all. To think Alias, had you just raised the left hand, instead of toying with Baphomet at High Stakes... Ah well, you did not and that has set us all on this path of destruction. We each have chosen our course, and must see it through to the bitter end. Watching you receive your special mark on your right hand was an absolute joy to behold. I enjoyed every minute of watching all the emotions flick across your face as you realized what was about to happen. A harsh lesson to be sure, one that could have been avoided.

Then came the Warfare where you took your gift from the Left Hand, and decided to destroy it, to burn it off rather than see it day in and day out. Another delight to behold! Your stoicism in the face of that pain intrigued me Alias. It makes me wonder if you will show the same thing when you meet with Marf, and he drives you into a ladder or drops you on your head? It makes me wonder if you will show no emotion when you come face to face with me, nothing to prevent us from trying to rip each other apart. Or will Alias show that he has a weakness then? Will your desire to eat the Left Hand cause you to become just a little too reckless?

Will you get too focused on your need to consume and make a fatal mistake? If you do, I will see it, and I will take full advantage of it. Will you get so caught up in punishing one, that you fail to see the other headed your way? Would you rely on Jenny to keep either Marf or myself at bay? You are a fool if you would Alias, and while I would call you many things, that is not one of the names that I would assign to you. I will be watching you, waiting for the right moment to get into your head just a little more. Perhaps all it would take is to lock up, and whisper some sweet nothings into your ear about how lovely your flesh sounded as it sizzled and hissed under that blowtorch. Maybe that would tip you right over the edge, pushing you to vent even more fury on me.

Please do. I welcome it.

I know what you're thinking, that I want to enjoy feeling you let loose on me. And it's true, I do... but I also just want to see if you lose your control. I want to see you snap. I want to see if Alias will keep all of his promises about doing his best to destroy us. Can he keep it together and remain focused when we are right there before him, ready and waiting for him to bring it to us? I cannot wait to find out. As much as I’m itching to get myself a piece of your partner in the ring, I might just be a little more interested in you and what you have to offer. Shh, don’t tell Jenny... she might get jealous that it's not all about her. I’ve been watching you, studying you, and while I hate to admit it...

I’ve liked what I’ve seen.

Shocking, isn't it? But true. I have enjoyed looking back and watching everything you had to say, and what you have done. You are an enigma compared to the rest that line this roster. It puts an element of the unknown onto this match, where the only thing I truly know is... you want to hurt me. And I want to hurt you. Xtreme rules, is right up both of our alleys Alias... no restrictions on what, and no restrictions on how... no silly little things like DQs to stand in the way of whatever we want to do to one another! I bet you can't wait either... Remember this though Alias, no matter how many times you come for me, no matter how many times you knock me down, no matter how many bites you take from me, I'm just going to keep coming back for more.

I don’t give in.

I can never be broken.

So, sit at your table... be as ravenous as you wish... regardless of what you do, you will never truly Eat the Left Hand.

It'll be awfully hard to chew after we knock your teeth down your throats.”