Pouring the fuel, fanning the flames
Breaking the habit and melting the chains
Embracing the fear, chasing the fight
The glow of the fire will light up the night
The bridges are burning, the heat’s on my face
Making the past an unreachable place
Pouring the fuel, fanning the flames
I know, this is the point of no return
I won’t turn around

____________________________________________________________


With a lurch of her stomach and a slight spinning sensation in her head, Lycana finds herself deposited safely at her destination.

She blinks up at the house, two story and square in shape. From her vantage point she could see down the side of the house, into the backyard where a lush, emerald lawn bordered by a fence stretches before it ends on what appeared to be a river. She could see the sunlight shimmering off the water as boats bobbed merrily along.

Well, this certainly wasn’t Arcana’s place in Raleigh. She glances around at the towering palm trees, her location dawning on her as she does. This was more than likely Jim Caedus’s house, in California. She lets her gaze drift over at the beautiful homes lining the well-maintained street. It was a gorgeous neighborhood; she could hear children outside playing and...

She freezes.

Outside.

She looks down at herself, realizing she is still just clutching the damnable curtain. With not a stitch else on.

“Shit!” she bolts for the double doors at the front of the house, the profanity peppering every step she took. “Shitshitshitshitshitshitshit!”

She reaches them, poking the doorbell, following that up with her fist on the door for good measure. She peers over her shoulder nervously, trying to get the piece of fabric, too sheer to really do fuck all anyway, to cover up at least most of the vitals. She hears the snick of the latch, followed by the sound of the door opening and speaks, still watching the street carefully for any passersby. “Took you long enough! Why the hell would you...”

“....Holy shit.”

Her head snaps around, eyes round as saucers, seeing not Arcana framed in the doorway... but Jim Caedus.

A Jim Caedus who was currently perusing the length of her body with wide eyes of his own.

She didn’t know if it was because she had most of her flesh on display or because she was still covered with dirt and blood splatter... maybe both, but she only had one thing on her mind.

NOT getting arrested for public indecency.

“Let me IN!”

She rushes towards the space between him and the doorframe, just getting a foot over the threshold when it catches on the trailing curtain, sending her tripping forward with a startled yelp. A squeak follows as strong hands grab about her waist, halting her forward momentum and preventing her face from getting better acquainted with the flooring of his foyer. Caedus grips her tightly, her body hovering in the air. “.....Holy shit.”

She gets her legs under her and stands, spinning around and breaking his grasp as color floods her face from the sheer embarrassment of it all. She glares at him, and he didn’t even have the decency to be looking at her face. He was staring at her body. This man! This... UGH. How Arcana could put up with him?! This lecherous, leering, Lothario of a...

“The fuck happened to you girl?”

Her brow furrows with frazzled confusion as he looks first to his own blood smeared hand, before reaching out to run it lightly over the wound on the swell of her hip, tugging her slightly closer for a better look. “That looks deep as fuck.” At her silence he looks up, ice blue eyes showing concern. She softens, feeling foolish for her immediate assumptions. The man did have a reputation, but... “You should probably get Kaiya to take care of that for you.” He moves his hands to her shoulders and holds her away from him, looking her over. “Along with the rest of all these. Holy shit. The fuck happened?”

“Long story but...Yeah... You’re right.” she mumbles, fully aware that she was standing in front of him with nothing but a stupid curtain. And they were discussing her wounds as if it were the most natural thing in the world. As if she wasn’t grime streaked with her hair looking like a bird's nest. She wouldn’t be shocked if there were sticks and leaves in it. “Where is she?” she steps slowly back, breaking his hold, as Jim indicates a hallway, with a staircase at the end of it. “She’s up there, in the bedroom.” Lycana nods in acknowledgement. “Thanks.... Thank you.” She turns on her heel and scampers off, the curtain, still clutched tightly in her fist as she goes, down the hall and up the stairs, face on fire, his voice fading out behind her.

“......Holy shit.”

She gallops through the doorway of the bedroom. “How the hell could you just poof me onto the fucking front LAWN?! I wasn’t wearing...” she stops, staring at Arcana sitting in a sea of wax melt clamshells. She pauses in bringing one up to her nose, looking at Ly’s current state in shock. “What the fuck happened to you?”

“That seems to be the question of the day...”

“And why are you naked?”

“That kinda goes along with the other one. Long story. Why the hell would you not just put me in here with you?”

“Oh, sorry. I was distracted.” she waves a hand at the hundreds of smelly things around her. “I was organizing.” She rises gracefully to her feet, stepping carefully around until she gets closer. “Jeezus Ly, seriously, what happened?”

“It’s a long story, but could you just...?”

Without a word, Arcana’s hands start moving graceful in precise movements in the air, a trail of glimmering magic starting to sprout from them. A bright golden glow encases Lycana, and once it fades, she is fully healed. “Thank you.” Arcana inclines her head. “Don’t mention it. Come on, you need to get cleaned up before you tell me just what the hell is going on.”

In no time at all, Lycana found herself shoved into the massive glassed-in shower, the fucking curtain finally gone –and good riddance-, with steaming hot water pounding onto her head as she tilts it back, a sigh of pleasure escaping.

She couldn’t take too long, although she was tempted to take her sweet time about it, it felt glorious, and all she wanted to do was zone out and let the roiling puffs take her away from reality. With a groan, she settles down to business, washing away the caked-on dirt and dried up blood from the horror show in the cave. She shudders, the visions of the bodies of those she would call friend dancing in a macabre scene within her head. They were all dead, and somehow it was connected to the body of the Baphomet. It didn’t make sense. The Left Hand was gone... so who would care to be bothered to do such a thing?

Other than his tons of enemies he had made them during his tenure.

There was always that.

But nobody had known where the fuck he was... Except Alias and Marf. One had been cleared. It seemed like an obvious enough conclusion, but none of it added up to her. There was something she was missing and she had no damn clue what it was. It all led her, towards what she had to do next... because she was determined to find out what hell had happened.

Because in a roundabout way... it was her fault.

With regret, she shuts the water off, pulling the fluffy towel down that Arcana had left for her, swiftly drying off, then rubbing her hair vigorously. She picks up the flowy dress that had been offered to her, pulling it over her head, before studying herself in the mirror.

Well. It was better than nothing.

Certainly much more so than the fucking curtain.

Arcana was inches shorter, so the hem of the dress kissed Lycana midthigh, a bit short for her tastes but there was no way that a pair of her pants or shorts would have fit her, not with Arcana’s ass grown to the size of a Volkswagen recently. She was thankful just to be covered up. She exits, and pads down the stairs, following the sound of voices until she finds both Jim and Arcana, in the kitchen. They both look to her as she comes in, sliding onto a barstool and plopping her chin into the palms of her hands.

Without any prompting, she launches into the story from the beginning, how she had kept ahold of the Baphomet’s body after he had been shot, fallen into a coma, and that she had kept him alive with the help of a supernatural savvy doctor and an elven healer, hidden in a cave in a state of the art facility guarded by two warriors, brothers of the healer. She watches their faces contort as she speaks, a myriad of expressions marching their way across, each one having a different reaction. Jim looked mildly confused, but interested in everything. Arcana ran the gauntlet from surprised, to anger, to shock, and back again.

“Why the hell would you keep his body?!”

“I don’t know.”

“ALIVE?!”

“I don’t know!”

“You should have just let him die Ly. Good riddance. The Left Hand was one of the worst things that you...”

“I get it. I got it. Can I tell you the rest?”

“It gets better than this?”

Oh, did it ever.

She launches into what had happened, not holding back with the descriptions of what she had found, the dead bodies, the damages done to them. What Miranda had managed to get out before she had passed away in Lycana’s arms. The severed appendage that had been left there, a grisly message left behind for the sapphire haired vixen to find.

“They killed them all? They got by elves?!” Arcana gasps out, knowing full well the implications behind that. “Yeah... This was... like I’ve never seen before. It wasn’t natural, it shouldn’t have happened. What it took to pull this off I just...” she shakes her head, unable to go on any further. She had no answers. “This is a bunch of crazy shit.” Jim remarks, looking from one to the other. “You have no idea...” Lycana murmurs, tracing a design on the countertop. “Do you really think the hand was left there for you to find?”

“Why else? I was the only one who went there.”

“What do you think it means?”

“I don’t know... a message that they bested me? A warning? I have no idea.”

“Who the hell would do that though?”

“I had some ideas...” she pauses, swallowing, dropping her gaze down. “I blamed Marf.”

“You... WHAT?!”

Even Jim looks invested as Lycana launches into the story of how their argument played out, making him open up his mind to her. The mistake of forgetting about the hand... his reaction to it all. She finishes up, and all is quiet for a long minute. Then...

“Ha!”

A sharp single note of laughter from Caedus, earning him a swift look of disapproval from Arcana. Lycana glowers, staring daggers at the man, who simply shoots her a shit eating grin in return. With a shake of her head, Arcana returns to business. “I don’t think that Marf, even with what he can do, could have gotten by Sylla’s brothers, not without them noticing... And he wouldn’t do that to you. Somehow, I find it hard to believe the Baphomet didn’t have a laundry list of enemies who would have jumped to get their hands on his body and end him once and for all. Or torture him.”

“Or... use him for something.”

“How would they be able to use him when he was in a coma?”

Lycana hesitates.

“He could move along the astral planes, as long as he was aware... even in a coma. We had brain waves. But... he never came to me... so...” her voice trails off slowly. “There was one other person, who I brought there... He fits the description mostly.”

“Who?”

“Alias.”

“What is it with you and Alias anyway?” Jim breaks in. “Alias and I have a long history.” Lycana starts. “Back when I first joined the XWF, Alias was the first target. He resisted and angered the Baphomet. He set us on him, and Ash Quinn branded him on the hand, with the Left Hand symbol. After that, he made it a point to try and destroy every member, current and past. And we did the same to him. There was a lot of blood spilled... Even when it was just Marf and myself, when Baph left, it continued.” Lycana’s brow furrows as a soft look of shame crosses her face. “And all this led up to Leap of Faith, and well... I promised that I would do whatever it took to win. He came in with my destruction in mind. It didn’t happen the way he had wished... And now? Things have changed. A lot.” She shrugs. “Anyway... I need to find him, and talk to him.”

“You don’t know where he lives?”

“I don’t think anyone does.”

“Do you have anything I can use for the spell then? A piece of hair or something?”

“It's not exactly something I’ve ever asked him for.”

“Fine.” Arcana sighs. “It’s going to be a bit harder to get a locator on him, but I’ll go try. I’m going with you though.” She holds up her hand, cutting Lycana off. “No buts... We don’t know if he was the one. And besides, then I can bring you back here or send you off to wherever it is you need.” Lycana grudgingly agrees, not seeing any other way. Arcana gives Jim a quick peck on the cheek and goes off to gather what she needed to perform the spell, leaving the other two alone, staring at one another.

Still a bit miffed at him, she arches a brow. “You have a real talent for getting yourself into shit, dontcha girl?” he drawls, not fazed in the least by her snotty expression, which falters a bit, being reminded that he had come and saved her. And she owed him. Twice over. With a sigh, she smooths her face out. “Yeah, trouble seems to find me. Or I find it. In any case, I never got to... say thank you.”

“For?”

“Well, Reika, for one. For saving her off the Matterhorn at Disneyland. She considers you her all-time favorite hero now. Her new favorite color is blue, because it's like your eyes. She mentions ‘flying’ with you all the time... I guess she means when you jumped off and...” she realizes she's rambling. “Anyway, yeah. Thank you for that. And for coming to save us from that weird time hopping adventure.”

“Of course. Do you really think I’m that big of an asshole that I wouldn’t help you out?”

Lycana is saved from answering by a call from another room. “FOUND HIM! LET’S GO!” She slides off the stool and walks backwards away, offering up a small smile. “I guess not THAT big of an asshole.” she chuckles before turning and scurrying off to where Arcana waited, looking down into a shallow dish. “Ready?” At Lycana’s nod, she moves her hands in the air, creating a swirling maroonish vortex. Both girls step in and are gone.

Only to reappear on a wide stretch of empty road.

A whole lot of nothing stretches out on all sides, the land reaching out to the horizon unbroken, and unblemished by anything. Lycana looks around, waiting for the stereotypical tumbleweed to blow by. “You sure this is the right place?”

“I’m sure, look, down there!”

Lycana turns around, gaze following Arcana’s pointing finger, squinting into the distance. She rubs her eyes and peers harder. A lone figure, in the road, unable to be identified from this distance. Without even thinking about it, she begins to walk, closing the gap between them. Arcana falls into step beside her, the two steadily making progress, not another sign of life ever appearing. As the figure becomes clearer, she realizes it is, indeed the man in question.

Alias.

Standing dead center in the middle of crossroads, a four-way intersection, watching the two women approach him with an inscrutable look on his face, but somehow, he doesn’t seem surprised at all.

In his arms, a small child, her dark eyes regarding the two strangers with mistrust.

By some unspoken agreement, never looking at one another, Arcana stops, allowing Lycana to walk the final few yards by herself, coming to a stop before him. She looks around, still no other signs of life, or mode of transportation around.

“How did you get here?”

“I dunno. How did you get here?”

A faint smile. He was also no stranger to the weird an unusual. She should have expected that he would be completely unfazed by the fact he was standing in the middle of nowhere and she showed up to boot.

“Arcana poofed us.”

She indicates the red headed woman behind her, who starts to come forward. The little one, Lycana would guess her to be on the cusp of toddlerhood, makes a small noise, her face beginning to crumple, tears filling her chocolatey eyes. Arcana beats a hasty retreat and the whimper subsides, the little one sticking her finger in her mouth, observing everything. Lycana’s face softens for a moment, before her gaze slides back to Alias.

“Did you do it?”

“Do what?”

“Steal the body of the Baphomet.”

She watches him carefully as he stares at her.

“No.”

She nods.

“I know.”

“How?”

“You didn’t close off from me... You let me read you.”

He inclines his head in acknowledgement.

“His body is gone?”

She nods, telling the tale of what she had discovered, the fight with Marf, and everything that had led her up to this point.

“The violence didn’t add up, but after Leap of Faith and everything that had to do with the Left Hand, well... I’m sure you can understand?”

“I do. You’re looking for the body now? Why?”

“I don’t know.”

“Why did you keep him alive anyway?”

She starts to repeat her typical answer and stops... She could tell him. He was different some way.

“Guilt I suppose... Some last lingering shreds of loyalty I can’t seem to shed. I made promises... and I didn’t keep them. I let the Left Hand die on my end by not taking up the mantle.”

“And I, of all people, am expected to feel bad about that?”

“No, I just…”

He raises a gloved hand, the same one she had helped scar.

“Guilt’s a waste of time. Even more of a waste than your involvement with Big Bitch Baph’ was to begin with.”

“I know that now... but I still need to do this, to find out why.”

He looks off into the distance, but she can tell he understands. He looks back, giving her a faint smile of his own.

“Looks like you’re on the journey now. I’m sorry I can’t help you more, but maybe I can point you in a direction that can.”

Her eyes light with hope, however small the possibility may be, it was more than she had to go on before... and now after eliminating him. Alias gives her a name, one that has her nodding, her mind already rolling the possibility around in her mind.

“Can you tell me how to find him?”

“Yes.”

He does, then both fall silent, staring at one another once more. How funny life was. Not long ago they would have been at each other's throats, and now they stood as... maybe not friends... but perhaps allies of a sort, bonding together over two very different stories with a common thread sewing them together.

“Thank you Alias, and...”

She hesitates.

“I’m glad you never gave in. There are those who are never meant to be broken or caged in... You are one of them.”

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a cigarette, lighting it in the space between them. While taking a long drag, he offers that gloved hand to her in fist. Gently, she connects her own to his.

“We all have our cages.”

She backs away, before turning to face Arcana, nodding at her. A few hand motions later, the swirling red vortex appears. Lycana stops before she steps through.

“Oh, and if I were you, I’d go that way.”

She points, flashing him a genuine smile... and then is gone.

____________________________________________________________



“Quid!

Quidly!

Quidward!

Quiddington!

Where are you?

I didn’t mean to scare you...

Well, I guess that’s not true.

I did mean to scare you, just a little bit. Make you aware of what you were going to be walking down to the ring to meet. I mean, I thought it was pretty nice of me to take the time to give the advanced warning of what the Dark Vixen of Violence likes to do, and how I try my best to live up to that. I mean given that you are a pathetic little weakling who cannot stand a bit of pain... I just figured that I would give you the heads up. Scare you a little, shake you up a tad... let you get a little prepared for the match so that maybe, just maayyyybe you would strap on your balls and bring me a fight.

But no, instead it appears I terrified you so badly that you are nowhere to be found.

Where are you at? You huddled up in a closet somewhere? A bathroom stall? Your own bedroom after having to change because I made you shit yourself in fear?

There's got to be some other reason...

Maybe you are just shy, and that’s why you wear the mask. You don’t want anybody to know who you are... or you are horrendously ugly. I know a guy who wore a mask for that very reason. Took it off recently and damn, it would have been better if... you know what, that’s not important.

Are you the strong silent type Quid? That doesn’t really match up with the whole questioning people until they want to kick your head off thing, or the analyzing your opponent and all that good stuff. So, what in the world can it be that has you so damn tongue tied?

Maybe you just don’t like cutting promos.

I can understand that. You see despite my rather well-deserved moniker of being a long-winded bitch, I am also not really a fan. I have never really seen the point of it all. I bemoaned it all when I first stepped foot into the company myself. Why do we do them, other than the fact we are pretty much obligated by contract? It offers a chance to see where your opponent's head is what, what they are thinking of you and the match itself. If they are looking at you as a threat or if they just think you are a joke. I guess I can see the merit in that, and as another person who likes to do research on who they are going against, you should too. But otherwise?

A waste of time in the grand scheme of things.

All bluster and threats. A way to try and get into someone's head, maybe play the mind games with them if they are of the weaker variety...

Which it appears you might be.

So, that could be the answer. You just don’t want to do them. I don’t know, you haven't been around to tell me otherwise, leaving me alone to make all these assumptions. But I guess there is a marked difference between you and I. While we both might not really want to do this... I have taken the initiative and embraced what I consider the drudge work before I am rewarded with what I am actually here for... and that’s the battle in the ring. I won't sit around silent and sulk over things I cannot control. I come, I do my job to hype up my match and draw attention to it. Opener, midcard, main event. I see what I can do to get under the skin of those who stand across from me. I try to worm my way into their brain and make them sweat. I poke and prod to find out anything I can possibly use against them. And then I get what I desire.

A fight.

I might just be wasting my time here even coming up with all these theories. Maybe I should just buckle down and continue to tell you just what I plan to do to you inside the squared circle, from the moment the bell rings, until the moment I slam you into the mat for the last time? Wait and see if you decide to actually make an appearance before Warfare itself? Offer up a short list of my hopes and dreams for this match?

Let's go with that one.

What I hope is that you are busy training and not just hiding somewhere. I hope that you will come down and actually give me a run for my money. We are pretty evenly matched up in terms of build; I’m going to guess you have the quickness that will rival my own. I'm hoping that instead of being a dud, you turn out to be a little firecracker who just hasn’t found his voice yet. I hope that this doesn’t turn out to be the dull affair that I'm fearing it to be. I hope that you are out there, hiding away from the cameras asking anyone you can about me, gathering your information that way. I hope that you shock me.

I have a lot of hopes Quid, please don’t let me down!

But remember this, just because I want you to bring your all to that ring and make me work, doesn’t mean I have any intentions on letting you win.

You see my dear, I have been doing an awful lot of thinking these past couple months, and have made a few decisions regarding my future, what I think I need to do and all that. And you? Well right now you are just standing in the way of all that. It’s not your fault the bookers decided to feed you to a very, very hungry wolf, but you will be the one who pays the price for it. I cannot let you be another blight on my record, I just won’t allow it. So, expect the pain. Expect me to come at you hard. Expect me to be relentless in my attacks.

Expect to lose.

I’m done talking, and done coming up with hypotheses. I think it's about that time I just let my actions do my speaking for me.

See you in the ring Quid.”