“I hope quickly.” the pique filled voice returns, the shadow of an arm disengages from the rest of the shadowy body, to wave nonchalantly in the air. Dismissed. The Harbinger stiffens and gives a stilted bow before turning on his heel and stalking slowly back across the room. He resists the urge to look back. It was all out of his hands now. For all their hauteur, the one on the throne was a deadly one, and to disappoint them meant your head would likely be parted from your body. Too many did not see how ruthless that one could be until it was too late. The Harbinger hastens his steps as he gets closer to the end of the room. The sooner he saw the end of this particular mission, the better.

“Are you sure we shouldn’t execute him just in case?” Rolfe said over his shoulder. He turns his attention back to Marcus, chained up and battered before him in a small room of the tiny home he lived in. A sneer crosses his face as he lets his eyes travel over the face of the other man, the one who had conversed treason with his own girlfriend in the middle of the packlands. He had claimed to know nothing in all these days of torture, and Rolfe had tried every trick in the book to encourage the gates to open, but he had pled his innocence time and again. Marcus looks up at the scowling expression of his captor, shuddering, but unable to suppress a small glimmer of hope as he directs his attention to the one standing behind Rolfe, leaning on the door frame.

Lycana rubs her hand slowly over her forehead, her visage drawn and stressed. She had returned to absolute chaos among the wolves. Word had spread quickly about the incident, and that Lycana had taken Reika for questioning, and the girl had never returned. Under normal circumstances, the whole subject would have been avoided, the pack only coming together to bury the offender beyond the burial grounds, out where they were shown to be outcasts from the family unit for their sins. Problem was... Reika’s body was nowhere to be found. Upon being told such, she herself had returned to the scene of the attack from the Harbinger.

She had found the place still destroyed, shards of jars and vases everywhere. Elixirs longs since dried and sticky, staining the floor of the cabin. Old, browned blood splatter scattered about. The damned hole in the wall from whatever magical energy he had harnessed between his hands. But not a single clue to where Reika’s remains could have disappeared to. Lycana had told her tale, what she had both seen and experienced... sending some of the wolves into a frenzy about this unknown assassin after their leader. Others were concerned that he would be back, to pick off members of the pack. Still more, eyed Lycana with suspicion over it all.

“I don’t believe that will be necessary.” her voice is strained, uncertain of her decision. One she had taken, had disappeared, killed before her eyes, but she had no proof. Marcus, had not said anything incriminating. For Rolfe to execute him now might be folly, drawing even more problems in. Of course, the very choice she was making now could come right back around and bite her in the end as well. Marcus expels a soft sigh of relief, tears coming to his eyes as he sags slightly in his restraints. Lycana was going to show him mercy! That, in itself was a rare occurrence, and he thanks his lucky stars. He still stiffens as she approaches, dropping down to her haunches beside him.

She rests her arms on her knees as she leans forward, looking deep into his eyes. He shifts about uncomfortably. Sometimes, it seemed like Lycana could look directly into you, see what was below the surface, going right down into one's soul. “I still...” Rolfe started, but is silenced by Lycana holding a hand up. His top lip lifts slightly in a sneer before he wipes his face clean of the expression once more, the only sign of his displeasure the deep brackets on either side of his mouth. “You say you do not believe in what Reika was saying, that you are loyal to Cate.” Lycana starts. “Understand that this will be your only chance. Should you betray me, there will be nowhere for you to hide. I will hunt you to the ends of the Earth... I don’t have to tell you what would happen when I found you.”

Marcus swallows hard, his parched throat aching. His tongue feels thick, foreign in his mouth as he struggles to respond. “Yes.” he croaks, unable to coax anymore words from his swollen lips. Lycana merely gives a single nod, rising to her feet. “Keys.” Lycana requests. Without a word, Rolfe complies, although his jerky movements advertise his underlying anger. He places them in her hand, and she goes about releasing the tormented man herself. He slips to the floor, unable to stand on his own. Lycana’s gaze clashes with Rolfe’s, the battle of wills last but a moment before he averts his gaze, not willing to draw her wrath down.

“Take care of him” Lycana backs slowly from the room and starts towards the door of the small house. Rolfe quickly follows her. “Look Lycana, you are making a mista...” he growls. She whirls, causing him to pull up short to avoid running into her. “Don't try me today Rolfe.” she snarls right back. “I’m just trying to do what's right for you, and help...” he quickly backpedals, and is about to go on when she just shakes her head. “Now is not the time. Do as I say.” she says wearily, then pauses. “Please.” Rolfe falls back, letting Lycana continue out the door and into the bright sunshine. She blinks, letting her eyes get used to the glare, and almost wishes she hadn't.

The stares of the pack all turning in her direction. Under the burden of the fearful, the angry, the accusatory, she pulls herself together and stands tall. She could not show weakness now. She strides forward, her countenance clear to all that none should approach right now. She makes it through the small housing area, and into the woods before her stride falters. Her posture crumbling, steps slowing until she can go no further. She leans her back against the rough bark of a tree trunk and lets her head fall back, not caring that it connected with the hard wood with an audible thunk. How was she going to handle all of this?

She would have to go to Cate. Surely word had already gotten to her of the unrest, she would be summoned sooner or later. She would rather make that approach herself, instead waiting to be given orders. She cringed inwardly, thinking of what she had to offer the Goddess of the Moon. A missing lycan body, killed by some unknown glowing creature known as the Harbinger, who was also taking out other acolytes one at a time, as well as dissent among the werewolf packs. She might as well kiss her head goodbye if she didn’t figure out how to get a handle on things, and fast. She laughs helplessly... and she was going to be able to do so much from overseas. Again.

There wasn’t much time before she and Marf would be boarding a plane to Rome... together this time. After the assassination attempt by the Harbinger, he refused to leave her behind. In fact, he hadn't wanted her to go out to the packlands without him. She had thought his presence might stir them up even more, seeing someone who was a part of the reason she was not there all the time... it had taken quite a bit of convincing but she had managed to go it alone this time. Even though she had wanted him by her side, the Harbinger having spooked her. She slowly straightens up and forces herself into motion once more. And now... she had to get back, she had been gone longer than she had anticipated. With all the dreams he had been having...

Dreams that seemed to be getting worse, varying in intensity until he barely appeared to make it through a single night without waking multiple times. He tried not to bring her in, and she allowed it, but being next to him night after night, she knew. But she would let him to approach her on his own terms. It ate at her, his situation... the way she was sure hers ate at him. Her heart lurches in her chest. So much she wanted to fix, and no way to do it. Lycana never did like the feeling of being powerless. She slips in through the door of her house to find Marf waiting for her. His gaze turns in her direction, the bold blue eyes looking relieved upon spying her safe and sound.

“You know I would have just let you into my mind, so you could have seen it all.” she remarks with a smile, making her way over to him. “I’m still getting used to it...” he admits. “That we can do things like that.” She nods in understanding, as she gives him an affectionate bump with her hip in passing. “It took me a long time to understand the magic I was learning. I would have rather have had you with me though.” she replies, making her way into the kitchen with Marf following along behind her. She bends over and fishes around in the refrigerator, emerging again with two bottles of water. She tosses one at him without looking, and he catches it with ease. She shuts the door, turning to face him as she sips her drink.

“Are things okay with your pack?” he asks, bringing yet another small smile to Lycana’s face. “An utter fucking shitshow.” she sighs, causing him to snort a little. “Lycana! Swearing like that, what would Corey say?” Marf teases, looking aghast “Oh plenty, I’m sure.” she grumbles with an eyeroll. “Maybe we should relieve some of your tension again?” he suggests. And just like that, the mood in the room does a complete 180. Her eyes start to glitter as she contemplates his smirking countenance. Lycana languorously stretches, recalling the absolutely amazing little adventure they had gone on while in Wisconsin. Do it again? Oh, she was more than eager to indulge with him.

The look on her face must have spoken volumes, because he started chuckling immediately, walking over to gently tuck a stray hair behind her ear. “I’m guessing that a yes?” he asks. She cocks an eyebrow up, trying to appear sweet and innocent, but failing miserably in her good cheer. “Whatever gave you that idea?” she questions. He merely cups her chin and looks down into her face, a smile full of menace appearing. “I think you are going to like my idea.” he promises. “More than the last one?” her voice is hushed. “Even better... it would mean we would have to take a little... detour, on the way to Italy.” on that statement, he leans forward to whisper into her ear. Her eyes widen as delight is apparent on her face. He pulls back, arching a brow in question. She nods.

"Let's go to Philly.”

LATER

Lycana paces restlessly, having left Marf deeply sleeping, restfully. For now, anyway. She had no doubts the dreams would plague him again this night. She would return to the bed before then she hoped. Her presence seemed to bring her friend comfort when he awoke, and having him around made her feel safer with the Harbinger on the loose. Too bad she couldn’t seem to settle tonight, to get some sleep herself. On a sigh, she moves to pull out a small container of dried herbs. Perhaps scrying would show her something that would ease her mind. She drops some into water, not bothering to heat it, merely tossing the contents back like a shot.

She moves to settle on her couch, curling up tightly into a corner. She breathes deeply, letting to trancelike state wash over her. For a short time, she feels herself floating, idly moving through scenes in her head, none really taking, until suddenly she is slammed into a vision, seeing things through someone else's eyes. Her head reels, feeling foggy and slightly ill. Whoever this was, appeared to be drugged. The eyes open, revealing nothing but dark stone walls encased in the dim gloom. She shifts, uncomfortable but unable to do much about it between the combination of whatever was within her bloodstream, and exhaustion. She looks around once more, this time noting the heavy door, with iron bars at the top.

A prison then. As she tries to get to her feet, she feels a strange tug around her throat. Her hands come up to fumble with a metal collar, finding the connecting chain. She lets it slips through her fingers as she follows the snakelike metal, to where it was bolted to the wall. Someone had taken pains to make sure this one didn’t go anywhere. A black haze hanging heavy on the edges of the vision, she stumbles slightly around in the unfamiliar body. She makes her way over to the door, hands wrapping around the bars to peer out into a quiet, and empty hallway. Nothing of note there. Not even a guard? Lycana wasn’t sure why she had been put here. It seemed pretty useless.

She bullies the body she is inhabiting to lethargically walk about the cell, thanking the goddess that whoever it was, must be unconscious since there was nobody fighting her position. After her leisurely stroll of three walls of rocks and not much else, she gives up. There was nothing here. What a waste. She might as well leave the poor soul to its fate. As she turns to settle the body down on the ground, she spies a bucket of water. Well at least they offered that, maybe it would help flush some of the drugs from this one's system. It was the least Lycana could do after her invasion. She leans over it, intending to cup some with her hands and drink. What she sees freezes her in her tracks. Wide hazel eyes framed with matted blond hair stare back at her from the water.

At the same moment, the owner of the body stirs, a single word blasting through their skull, as she is shot out of her mind, coming back to on her own couch with a sharp gasp.

“LYCANA!” Her name echoes through her head, the voice familiar.

Reika was alive.

“Snow Job was a beautiful bloodbath. The pristine snow surrounding the squared circle turned crimson. An absolute symphony of barbarity and suffering. Six whole and hearty souls entered that ring, and all of us emerged, limping out in much rougher shape. Blood was spilled, skin split and bruised. We will all wear marks for weeks to come! Emblems of our dance for the world to see. While The Dissentients walked away without the belts, we still won so much more. We made it known that our thirst for violence is undeniable, that we have what it takes to face anyone we please and leave proud of what we could do. And now, I find myself looking to Warfare, and another championship match.

This time... the Shooting Star Championship dangles before me. The beautiful glittering adornment that has wrapped about the waist of some of the best women in this fed. Many hunger for it, many chase the chance to get their hands on it, many dream for this opportunity. Some have made it the very base to their personality, unable to picture themselves without it, as if it were another appendage... feeling like an amputee without it. The desire for that gold belt fuels fires... and now I have the chance to have it for my very own. To be the one who holds it aloft in the air as I step into the ring. To be crowned Shooting Star Champion. And let me be very clear on my feelings about this....

I don’t want it.

I have no interest in that particular prize. No, my aspirations are so much more... My dreams take me above settling among the women's division. They will be clear in time. Much more riveting to me, are my dance partners for this glorious occasion. In one corner, we have the champion... Betsy Granger. The Impossible Traveler took that belt off my stablemate, Geri Vayden. This is my opportunity to get her in the ring, and bring it right back to the Left Hand where it belongs if I should be inclined. My chance to make sweet Betsy suffer, to show her what happens when she takes up with the enemy. Signing the dotted line on her RMI contract was one of the worst things she could have done.

You see Betsy, your little friends over there... Romeo and Wylde? They have a special place in my heart, and by standing with them in that ring against us; well... you’ve marked yourself a target. You’ve had a couple little tastes of what we can do... from your little mishap with the gasoline, to feeling the Baphomet’s fingers closing around your pretty little throat, and even on to the match where you all met destruction. Samplings, simply a snippet of what is coming your way. Darling Betsy, the numbers are far less in this match, so this means I get to have far more one on one time with you than I have gotten before... and I will not squander it.

I have a few extra special... goodies up my sleeve for you. I’ll let you sit and try to guess what those will be... let them consume you. You've caught my eye. I find you... intriguing. You know the barest tip of what I am capable of, there is so much more I can do to you and I promise you... once we are locked in that cage together, you and I will explore all the endless possibilities it offers. You and I together in the ring? Dreams are made of such. I will hand you one small thing Betsy; I can tolerate you much more than most of these guttersnipes roaming the XWF. The way you tossed that strap into the crowd the way you did. It shows me, there is so much more to you than the rest. It’s a shame you had to make the choice that you did... With that decision, the consequences that come with it cannot be avoided. You will end up in my grasp, and it will hurt, you will regret every thought you had against the Left Hand.

In the other corner, we have my fellow contender... Ash Quinn. The reasoning behind my fervor of sinking my claws deep into that one should be self-explanatory. Hello sweet Ash... did you hold out the hope we would never cross paths again? Perhaps you thought you could disappear among the rabble and avoid my gaze, hiding from me. Silly girl... I am always hunting, always prowling... and you will always be my prey. Isn't this what you wanted? All eyes on you? I am sure you will now try to bluster your way through, talking a tough game was always the way you played wasn’t it? You certainly could never walk the walk, too bad you always fell short at the talk too... the pathetic profanity laden slop that dripped from your jaws can hardly be called a promo.

But you kept right on spewing forth the filth, hoping, pretending that you had an inferno, a passion lit within you. I coaxed that barest of sparks frequently, trying to bring a blaze to life within the most meager of kindling. Only to find in the ring, something with about the same amount of talent as a rock... that fire inside a mere mirage. I stood beside you when you needed a partner. I stood behind you when you needed strength. I stood in front of you when you needed protection... and all for what Ash? For a disappointment. For someone who proved themselves to be unworthy of the moniker of family member. For a coward who turned tail and ran back to their place in mediocracy. Looking for a handout elsewhere, someone who pats you on the head and tells you that you are doing fine, instead of trying to make you MORE. We gave you morale and support. You gave us the finger and ‘Fuck the Left Hand.’

Well.... FUCK ASH QUINN.

You have royally fucked yourself. In breaking your loyalty, you have painted yourself a target. I will not rest until I have run you to the ground... and I do not mean merely on Warfare. Beyond that... around every corner... waiting in every shadow. I will haunt you. Engulf you. Until the cracks begin to show, and then, only then will I move in for the kill. If you are lucky. We start this at Warfare. You know well what I am capable of, and my lucky love... you will get to be on the receiving end. You will be my special one this time, the one who gets to enjoy the most of my tender ministrations. In that cell, you will feel the walls press in on you, you will begin to sweat. You will feel the terror. You will feel my presence looming over you, poised for the kill.

Your tears and pleas will start falling.

Only to find deaf ears and a blind eye... nothing you can say or do will change what is coming to you Ash. Step up and take it or be hunted down. The choice is yours. I do adore a good chase. What will you show me? Will you come forth to the camera knees knocking, shouting your childish insults? Will you try to act tough and unaffected as you soil yourself? Will you attempt to actually make sense and emulate myself and Betsy? Which side of Ash are you going to bring to the forefront? We all know you cannot seem to choose what you want to be. Best Ass. Overlooked Scrapper. Left Hand ‘Warrior’. Crybaby Deluxe. But the one thing you will always be Ash? An absolute waste of oxygen.

While I look forward to our playtime, waiting for both of you to start your diatribes about this glorious we all will have... an even greater event has come to pass! One that will have far reaching effects. One that will shake the very grounds we walk on. One, that will have many quivering... in either anticipation or fear. Some should hold on very tight... for their time is nearer than they think. Some thought it over... only to be proven wrong. And now? Now the fun will really begin.”

Lycana pulls back from the camera, allowing the television playing in the background to be seen. It merely seems to be the news, until the image of the woman speaking changes... revealing a very familiar figure walking free from prison. His eyes seem to bore into the viewer, a faint smile playing about his mouth as flashbulbs go off around him. The voice over intones “William Keen, better known as The Baphomet was released from prison today. In a bizarre turn of events, all federal charges have been dropped against him.” the voice drones on, but Lycana turns to face the camera again, her lips slowly tilting up at the corners. “He was right...” She looks at her left hand for a long moment before lifting her eyes to the camera, glee swirling in their depths.

“The Baphomet rises again.”