Hours after High Stakes had ended, the majority of everything taken down and ready to move on to the next venue, a lone figure sat shrouded in the darkness. Long after the lights had winked out, and most of the population were settled into slumber, she sat alone. Alone except the bottle of rot gut whiskey she had pilfered from one of the stage hands who had left it unattended in the locker room. Ensconced within the night, she is nearly invisible, the occasional movement from the bottle to her lips the only thing giving away her presence. She stares off into nothing, her mind reliving the event over and over, seeing all of her flaws, making note of things she should have done. Alternate actions that could have begotten an alternate ending.

Lycana raises the bottle once more, shuddering at the taste of the cheap liquor, feeling it blaze a burning trail down her throat before unfurling its warmth in her stomach. She wasn’t upset about the loss. Well... that wasn’t entirely true. Wins didn’t matter to her. They were merely a stepping stone to face off against more significant prey, but each loss was a step missed, a chance to face better lost. Each loss could put her amongst the jobbers who fumbled about and provided no real challenge. One who didn’t have the drive, the hunger to hurt. They were just looking to get noticed, to be seen, to have their faded lights acknowledged before they blinked out completely.

That was the only reason she was ill-tempered about the results of her match. Her shortcomings were what were really gnawing at her psyche. She had rushed moves, she hadn't taken the time to really think some moves through. She had been rash, instead of taking that half second to check and be sure her opponent was out, that the other was incapacitated, she had acted, and it had cost her a few times. She had moved without thinking, without control. The very thing that she had been told, the very reasoning behind her lack of powers. The power she craved above all else. With a low growl, she sends the mostly empty bottle flying through the air, hearing it shatter, seeing the twinkling pieces of glass in the moonlight laying on the sand.

She slides down and onto unsteady feet, trying to stop the world from spinning long enough to focus on where she needed to go. It was a decent walk to the hotel, she wasn’t fool enough to drive in this condition. The bumps she had taken during the match had pleased her, excited her... sent her adrenaline soaring. It was more exhilarating than she could have hoped for. Too bad afterwards her mind had started eating at her, all those good feelings had landed with a thump, sending her mood plummeting. She was not normally one to partake in foolish pity party activities, but she had again acted without rationale when she had spotted the bottle of whiskey unattended. Her lip curls in derision. Another thing that would be held against her, she was sure. “Where the fuck is your goddess now?” Her demons whisper in her ear, as she tries to shrug them away.

She staggers down the road blindly, only knowing the direction she was supposed to be headed in, relying on her instincts to guide her as she had so many times before. Her inebriated state casts them into a thick fog, rendering them useless. “Fuck it.” she slurs, setting one determined foot in front of the other. Come hell or high water she would make it back. She had all the instincts of a wolf, could even read their –all canines truthfully- minds, she just didn’t have the ability to turn into one. Lycana laughs humorlessly at this. Denied to her time and time again, the same reasonings always given to her. She proved them right in that match... she wouldn’t be able to even think about inquiring for a long time, nevermind expecting to just be honored with the gift.

Headlights swerving around the corner temporarily blind her, and she squints as she moves farther onto the shoulder, feet skidding a little on the sandy slope. The car careens around the road, a bunch of drunken kids yelling to her out the window as they speed by. She makes a disgusted face. Imbeciles, truly. Rushing home before mommy and daddy noticed they went joyriding in the condition that they were in. The majority of the human race weren't worthy of breathing in oxygen and yet here they all were. It was foolish of her to have gotten drunk, such a base activity. She glances over her shoulder, watching the headlights fade out in the distance.

Her intoxicated state made her move on an unsteady angle, and as she steps, there is no longer solid ground under her foot. She scrambles to make the save, but the sandy earth gives way and she starts to skid down an incline. She leans, trying to halt her forward motion, but her foot catches and hidden rock, tipping her forward into a tumble. She rolls, slamming into jagged pieces of stone all the way down the steep hill, gaining air for one brief moment before her body smashes into the pile of rubble at the base, her head connecting solidly with a loud crack. She feels her vision blurring, darkness creeping onto the edge as she struggles to send out a cry with her mind, hoping to get to a wolf close by. Her brain falters in its task, as she falls into the sweet oblivion of unconsciousness.

An unknown amount of time later, her body twitches. She groans softly as she opens her eyes, struggling to focus on what appears to be something standing over her. She shakes her head slightly, sending a sharp pain ricocheting through her cranium, forcing her eyes closed once more. She opens them once more, blinking to see that, indeed... there were two figures there with her. She slowly pushes up onto her elbows, remaining silent, just observing the two who watched her. A voice comes out of the gloom. "We have followed you for some time..." the male shadow speaks, "we have observed your descent and from your failure you now wither alone in the darkness... lucky for you... we are here on behalf of the dark. Isn't that right... Miss Quinn?"

She turns her attention to the other outline as it begins to talk as well. “I have to change my path; go toward the dark, embrace it.” The feminine figure can barely choke out the words out, obviously struggling with them. The smells and sounds enveloping her in their subtle robe. "The dark will reciprocate whatever affection you are willing to give..." Baphomet reassures her, placing his hand on her shoulder like a proud father to his daughter, "Change is never easy... now, lift this one up from her fallen place so she is no longer alone... but among two like herself." Ash steps forward, reaching out a hand to her. Beckoning her to join with a wicked smile on her face.

Lycana studies the two of them during their discord, sitting up slowly as she does so. Her brows raise slightly as she realizes just who stands before her. The one who she had observed, who had touched the deepest recesses of her vile soul with his matching desires. With only slight hesitation she accepts Ash's hand, using her assistance to climb to her feet. "I know much of the dark. I would wish to know more." She moves to face the man she already admired, and finally was face to face with. "You will..." Baphomet promises with a stern focus in his gaze, "Darkness spreads at light's speed if only accept it..."

Baphomet closes in on her, she almost steps back in fear, but catches herself before doing it. He stands close enough to kiss her, never leaving her eyes as he stares beyond them into her truest nature, "I see a great violence in you... something I haven't seen in some time... and just as I see a great darkness in Ash, lurking beneath, in you, I see..." Baphomet leans in closer, this time, Lycana is paralyzed- believing this time he will kiss her, but he stops short and on her lips, she feels his hot breath whisper, "Atrocities." A word that would typically conjure uncomplimentary emotion, instead, excites him... and her. He pulls himself back from her and looks to Ash Quinn. "Hit her." Baphomet orders, and stands back from them both.

Ash rears back, slapping Lycana hard across the face. Her eyes brighten. Lycana accepts the slap, feeling the rage unfurling in her abdomen. A slow smile spreads across her face as she takes pleasure in the both the sting from the impact of Ash's hand, and the venom starting to course through her veins. Her fingers twitch, muscles quivering under the desire to return the favor. She holds herself steady, eyes shifting over to Baphomet before her gaze turns back to the woman who stands before her, enjoyment clear on her features as well. With a snarl, Lycana launches herself at the other woman, sending both of them crashing to the ground with a spear. Lycana gets back up to her feet, throwing her arms open wide, offering herself up to whatever Ash wanted to dish out

Ash flips her to the side, punching her in the guts. She capitalizes, scissor locking her legs around Lycana, reaching for her eyes. Lycana takes the blows, her breath expelling from her lungs in a sharp bark of laughter. She shifts her head away from the hands reaching for her eyes, instead feeling nails rake down her cheek. Her own hands go up to wrap in Ash's hair, ready to slam the other woman down into the same rubble that had broken her fall from the road. "Enough..." It is a command from Baphomet, but the women continue to struggle on the ground, taking turns rolling the other off, "ENOUGH!"

Ash pushes the other woman off of her, getting to one knee slowly, eyeing the other warily. She wipes blood from her mouth while regaining her feet, never turning her back to her. Lycana barely registers the words, but allows herself to be shoved to the side as they slowly sink into her brain and are given meaning. With a huff she too rises, and turns her focus on Baphomet, eyeing Ash out of the corner of her eye lest she decide she wants to get physical again. "What do you think, Miss Quinn?" Baphomet turns to his first recruit, considering no one without her consideration. Wiping her mouth again, Ash speaks through gritted teeth “She will do, for now.” She glares at the blue haired witch. "You raise your left hand to me, Lycana..." Baphomet says, "Let the dark consume you... and you will never be without purpose again." Baphomet and Ash Quinn raise their own left hands to Lycana, awaiting her decision. Silence reigns over them for long moments, tension crackling in the air between the trio. Slowly, Lycana moves lifting her own left hand, swearing her allegiance to the Baphomet.

"The XWF believes it's among the greatest wrestling promotions in the world but," The Baphomet begins, "They are just another dying light in a once brilliant landscape of wrestling promotions... believing their importance is entertainment but in reality, professional wrestling has always been important in only one aspect... recruiting the most violent of men... and women... for our ancient order. They have rules... they have favorites... but we will break their rules... and corrupt their favorites. And for those favorites that cannot be bent, we will break them too... are you willing to do what is necessary to spread our brand of darkness in the XWF?" Both women nod their heads, voicing their agreement with the Baphomet's bold statement.

Lycana feels the anger of events of the PPV slowly sink down inside her, joining the rest of the murky soup that housed her poisonous rage, a sense of purpose settling upon her instead. Perhaps the goddess was showing her favor, in a way she did not expect. After all, hadn't she just been speaking of wishing to meet this very being who harbored the same such treacherous notions as she? Perhaps it was not a coincidence, but put into play for a higher purpose, so she could feed the fuel that drove her, pushed her beyond what she even thought possible. All she knew, was she would learn all she could from the Baphomet, prove she was as vicious as he believed her to be, and take down all who stood in their way.