Thieves of Joy
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[OFF CAMERA]

May 23, 2020

It was back to "normal" at Lyza’s stomping grounds in New York City. Returning home with tanned skin and finding specs of sand in her suitcase would make her neighbors envious while they retreated to the rooftop on sunny days. Nonetheless, she took whatever break or bone that was thrown her way until she resumed with her reality and ongoing ordeal. She could be questioned by friends and family about not taking the next step in a romantic relationship, yet little did they know that she had been committed to something that has outlived whatever romantic journey or escapade she’s had along the way.

“My career is my spouse. There are ups and downs, and I may leave from time to time, but I always come back,” she has said this numerous times, often getting scoffed at by her mother and aunts, with the occasional high five from a millennial and gen z friend. Way to sound like a married truck driver with side families throughout the North American region.

Nevermind that. It was a truth, yes, but not in its entirety. 

Once again the Queens-born wrestler finds herself at The Dead Rabbit Grocery and Grog in downtown, NYC. Rather than wearing formal attire as she did in her previous visit, she’s sporting a pair of skinny denim pants, combat boots, and a leather bomber jacket. Her face is shielded with a black face mask with the word “Ultra” in the middle. The text message from Glen didn’t call for anything extravagant, so she went with what she felt most comfortable in. 

She makes her way to the bar’s basement after a quick walk-through of the kitchen and indoor freezer, making sure not to distract the kitchen staff. This time she notices some upgrades were made with the electrical work, nodding at the motion-detected lights flaring as she walks down the narrow hall leading to the meeting room. 

“Wonder what the theme will be tonight?” she says under her breath. 

The doors open upon her arrival, and she is immediately greeted by a young woman in a white collared shirt and black slacks. Lyza smiles as she is now surrounded by another gathering of defiant residents dressed like ravers and attendees for a summer music festival. 

“Douchella?” Lyza blurts out to the hostess. 

“Minus Beyonce. Instead, we have --” the hostess says, as she is interrupted by a new song playing.

“They can’t be bargained with, 
they can’t be reasoned with. 
It doesn’t feel pity or remorse, or fear. 
It absolutely will not stop. EVER. 
You are dead,” 

the vocalist says before the beat drops in a dark synth-wave track.

The hostess gets lost in the crowd, leaving Lyza to navigate the venue on her own. With more guests than before, the ballroom is lacking large round tables and chairs for guests. Instead, there are a few loveseats and accent chairs against the wall, with smaller tables in between for drinks and small plates. She scouts the guests that have filled the seats, noticing the usual suspects of young finance bros and their trophy pieces featured on Instagram or TikTok. 

“ULTRAAA!!! I’m still MAD that's been canceled,” a young woman yells from across, pointing at Lyza’s face mask, referring to the Miami-based music festival. She removes the mask to respond to the young woman.

“No shit, that’s awful!” Lyza says, feigning agreement. She could smell the booze in her breath.“It’s like, you can be sick all you want, but don’t ruin it for the healthy people, am I right?!” (She’s going to hate herself for sounding like Vanessa Hudgens with that comment.) 

“Righttt! Dance with me!” she says, pulling Lyza towards her. Being the slickster that she is, Lyza entertains the notion and takes the attendee’s hand to spin her around. She releases the woman into another group of dancers before stepping away from the dance floor area. She takes a breather, using this as an opportunity to further scope the venue. 

Lights out. 

Lyza opens her eyes, no longer finding herself with the party-goers and the deafening music. She is seated on a recliner chair facing an older gentleman resembling Viggo Mortensen or maybe Daniel Craig. Given his aged and rugged features, he would’ve stood out in the ballroom amongst all the 20 somethings. He puts his cigar down after one last drag and proceeds to address his guest. 

“I am happy you made your way here without a fight,” he says.

“Worry and fear are a source of fuel for the monsters,” Lyza responds, making herself comfortable. His voice sounds familiar to her, maybe she heard it in passing in a dream or ages ago.

“A lesson learned from your childhood years,” he says, smirking. “You don’t remember me, do you?” 

“I can’t say that I have your card in my Rolodex,” she quips, taking note of a vacant chair next to her before continuing. “Tell me, what’s your fondest memory of me - if such a thing exists in your noggin.”

Before responding, he lets out a slight chuckle. “You inquired the most about the procedures at Stolzen. Some of my former employees opted to work with primates and rodents instead of you and the other peers in your age group.”

“And for that they - the universe dealt with them accordingly,” Lyza says, in reference to his employees. She twirls her mask with her fingers before slipping it in her pocket. Her last statement was expressed with an underlying tone, using a euphemism for something that was too dark for her liking. She would sometimes think about the others that were with her at the beginning stages of her tenure with Stolzen. Some could not make it past the initial stages, others vanished never to be spoken of again. Through their choices, she learned the consequences of any misstep or miscalculation which may be the reason why she's still around.

You should come out. It’s better than staying locked up in your room, you cynic.

Lyza’s words never failed to nestle themselves into Devin’s mind. Clad in an attire that clashed with the younger people in the venue, Devin stood out. A black turtleneck clung to his body, giving any onlooker a glimpse of his physique. Over it, he wore a dark gray suit coat, along with some matching slacks. The striking sound of his dress shoes caught the attention of some other nearby people. Covering his mouth was a black face mask optimized with replaceable valves. If anything, the man looked as if he walked out of John Wick, and his general demeanor told many less-than-confident people to stand away from him. 

Standing at the door, he scanned the room, hoping to see Lyza. He didn’t want to have to weave his way through the crowd or have to ask anyone if they saw her. Luckily, his perception didn’t fail him as he spotted her sitting at a table. There was another fellow there, and he was just as unique in this environment as Devin was. 

The older man was smoking a Cohiba, a cigar that only a few people would play around with. The synth-wave in the room went quiet in Devin’s mind as he focused directly on the person. He was familiar, and Devin began to craft the image of the man. 

“Devin, do you smoke?” the voice rang in his head, a gruff voice brimming with experiences from the world. His office showed off an erudite flair, primarily in the paintings on the wall. What further emphasized the doctor’s taste was the box of cigars that he displayed to the phlegmatic man. 

“No, I don’t,” the answer was quick and direct.

“Not even cigars?” the man who offered said with amusement accenting his tone.

Devin paused. “Sometimes.”

“Then here, try this one. These were hard to get,” the older man took out one of the cigars and handed it over personally. “I’m sure you’ll appreciate it...at the very least.”

And then it struck him.

Everett Klein, an employee of Stolzen, was higher than him in every regard. He was dangerous, he was calculating, and the act of sophistication he presented always rubbed Devin the wrong way. In the case of this, watching him speak to Lyza brought out something inside. Brushing past anyone who tried to stand in his way, even if they were trying to invite him to dance, Devin found himself before Klein. A former hand of Sirena van Dyne standing in front of one of her most experienced and deadly--what irony the world decided to bring to Devin today.

Lyza remains silent, observing the interaction between Devin and Everrett. She can tell their relationship entailed to more recent exchanges like colleagues, whereas she’d have to dig deep in her memory to recollect past interactions. It almost seemed like a school reunion where Everett portrayed the intimidating dean, Devin a faculty member, and Lyza a student. 

“All we need is Kevin Bacon to drop in to make this a party,” Lyza says, referring to the six degrees of separation idea. Even in a tense scenario, she seems to manage to add humor. 

“This will have to suffice for now,” Everett says, looking at both individuals. Though his attention eventually fixates on Devin, and he tilts his head with a wry chuckle. “I’m shocked to see you, Mr. Brando. I heard through the corporate grapevine that you were involved with Ms. Reyes. You look good at playing this part.”

“What part?” Devin asked, his voice cutting at Everett.

“I didn’t know that she gained such a menacing friend,” Everett reached over and took a sip of his drink. “Nor did I think that we would ever cross paths again. We all thought you had vanished for good, and Sirena gave you that out. But here you are again...in our view.”

As he put the glass down, his facial features hardened. “And you’re looking to cause trouble, whether you know it or not.”

It takes everything for Lyza to not get up from her seat and ask Devin if he was crazy for making an appearance after Sirena allowed him to leave. She was nearing desperation at this point, that the thought of a failed experiment would set her free. Dead or alive. 

“No, none of that. Let’s focus on the big picture here. See, I’ve been weighing my options, looking at the pros and cons given the current state of events. While I’m watching my neighbors and fellow New Yorkers fear and in some cases die from this mutant bat flu, I’m golden! Sure, I do my part in the public eye by following the CDC guidelines, but we know my defenses have been through worse. It would be silly for Stolzen to spend time and money developing something for the sole purpose of eliminating me. 

She raises her shoulders and hands emphasizing her point. While Lyza is seemingly optimistic about the potentially dangerous treatment, Mr. Klein doesn’t buy any of it given that his guinea pig was not alone. 

Devin’s sharp eyes drifted to Lyza, her words throwing him off. Though despite this, he couldn’t help but see out of the corner of his eye, Everett smirked. “Look at that, Mr. Brando. It seems that you’re capable of positive relationships after all.”

Shifting in his seat, the doctor eyed Devin with a level of certainty permitted to those in control. “However, that’s only a surprise, and nothing more. You standing there, making threats with your eyes do nothing to persuade me not to do my job. So, Ms. Reyes, can you spare us all the trouble and simply come back to work?” Mixing malice with politeness was Everett’s specialty. 

Alas, Devin took note of how certain people in the room turned. They removed the partygoer facade and presented themselves as the threats they truly were.

“If you wish to, Mr. Brando, you can help us.”

And the other option didn’t have to be said.


-


Days later 

[ON CAMERA]

There was something beautiful about a sunset in the spring with a New York City skyline in the background. With a drone flying in the air capturing the sights and the few on their rooftops, the feed then cuts to Devin Brando and Lyza Reyes standing on the rooftop. Lyza is seen in a black hooded sweatshirt, boots, and dark jeans, while Devin wears an entirely black ensemble, a black suit jacket, a black dress shirt, but all contrasted with a white tie. The wind picked up a black shawl he was wearing, wiping it into the wind. Behind them, viewers can see a small garden along with patio furniture and outdoor accessories. 

Lyza looks directly at the camera, deciding to be the first to speak. 

“LIVE...ish from New York City, it’s…!!!” She points at her tag team partner and herself. 

“You get the picture. Over a month ago, the World’s Best: Tag Team Tournament brought us to Puerto Rico, and from there we continued throughout the Caribbean, the Pacific, and now to the East Coast where it’s all too familiar to yours truly! It’s kinda nice how that worked out.” 

She nods before continuing. 

“Sometimes, tournaments do not always justify the amount of talent or skill in an individual. In some cases, after a loss, you are done and sent home leaving dissatisfied because you know you did not give it one hundred percent. I’ve had that feeling a few times in my career, sitting with my thoughts in an aircraft for thousands of miles. I had the kind of heartache that could’ve produced an entire album that would make Taylor Swift jealous - if only I were lyrically gifted.”

“Digressing from that, the beauty of this tournament is that with a second chance, Devin and I were able to prove we were worthy of sticking around to ultimately earn a spot at Taking Hold of the Flame 2020! Starting things off with a loss wasn’t ideal, and it’s the kind of thing that can discourage anyone or make them question their role in the tournament. We pushed forward from city to city, being able to show SCW and their fans that we were selected to participate in this tournament for a valid reason. No flukes or specific quotas, you are seeing one of the very best regardless of who didn’t receive an invitation.” 

“Now unlike other tournaments where you meet new and different opponents every round, including the finals, we instead circle back to our first opponents, The Pina Coladas. They’re that team you love to hate because they’re too good for their own good, you know? You start throwing out conspiracy theories at some point, thinking there are body-swapping facilities in North Dakota where the minds of skilled, but broken athletes are taking over the bodies of healthy rookies. You wouldn’t really know what was happening until you catch Newbie McNewerson sharing locker room stories from the early ’90s! I think I spooked myself out thinking about it.” 

“And now we go over to you, Devin-o!” Lyza says, tapping his arm. 

Devin’s now recognizable glare lands on the camera. He moves the shawl from over his arm and lowers down to watch the sun fall behind the horizon. Nightfall was beginning to come. He observes it with a softened expression; it was something he enjoyed. As the nighttime atmosphere begins to take root, so does the colder essence that Devin Brando brings to the team’s videos. 

“It was May 12th, 2020 when the Pina Coladas gave Lyza and I the last bit of insight into what they’re really about.”

“In one tiny moment, one that many people walked by, they said words that may come to haunt them.”

“Originally, Lyza, myself, and the rest of the tournament saw these two as the chosen ones perhaps. They were grown to be better than us, and they proved that in every match. They’re undefeated for a reason, but as always, images change. A first impression only lasts so long before everyone focuses on the uglier parts of someone’s identity.

“Their youthful exuberance turned into immature arrogance before our very eyes.”

“Delilah, Hugo, you said that Lyza and I were going to steal the tournament away from you,” Devin’s face twinged with disgust. “After all that you’ve been through, a perfect run, you want to close it out by making the simplest mistake that you could. I wouldn’t call it a rookie mistake, no, because it’s one that many people make when they’re in the position that you two are.”

“You grow complacent with the idea that you’re just going to win this tournament.”

“My partner told you the best piece of advice that we could give. She said that too much arrogance can cost you dearly, and it seemed that Hugo didn’t heed those words. Of course not, he was too caught up in his self-importance to realize that the very real threat of our team was knocking on their door. While he was glorifying himself for an admittedly impressive run, he was beginning to lose sight of the worst possible conclusion.”

“What if,” Devin wagged a finger, “just what if the Pina Coladas lose it all in the end? You wouldn’t want that Delilah, would you? Unfortunately, you played into his rhythm and agreed with him.”

“You think that Lyza and I have come to this far to simply steal a tournament?”

The Last King lets out a derisive snicker, but soon that turns into a harrowing laugh. His deep, baritone voice enriches the exclamation. When Devin lowers his head, his normally cool visage transforms into a vicious one, complete with a somewhat bloodthirsty grin. 

“If we win this tournament, then it wouldn’t be us stealing it.”

He raises his hand to the camera, his palm open.

“It would be us taking what was ours, to begin with.”

Devin then crushes his hand, the sounds of his knuckles popping catching the microphone.

“There are no names engraved on that trophy just yet. You two may have dreamt it up in those childish, idiotic imaginations of yours, but you have to face reality. You have one more match to win, one more team to beat, and it’s going to be the hardest match of your young lives. You don’t need to believe it to see it, because there’s evidence laid out in front of you.”

“What makes this team with no name made up of outsiders so threatening to you?”

Devin smirked. “It’s clear that you may not understand it because you have beaten us before.”

“And yet, that was our only loss,” he speaks with confidence.

But what has happened ever since then? It has been nothing but victory for us and anguish for anyone who dared to stand in front of us. And each time that we’ve won, we have ingrained our names in the minds of every person watching. The people of SCW know who we are and what we are capable of. We have made enemies for us to defeat, and we did just that--beat them and leave them broken. As we marched to these finals, we have gained every ounce of momentum and we will not be denied.”

“For you to insult us and say that you have this tournament in the bag or that we will have to steal this tournament for you is an example that you have learned only one thing in this tournament.”

“You have learned how to run your mouths like every other bullshitter in this industry,” Devin shakes his head. “You two will speak of us with high praise, but we’ll see right through that act.”

“And you think that useless bravado like that will keep you safe from us?”

Devin pauses, letting the gravity of his question linger.

“You must be out of your damn minds.”

“Lyza and I were shaky on our first outing together, and you got one over on us. Congratulations. But for every flight we took together, every moment we spent in each other’s company, and every conversation we have had, we have grown stronger as a unit. Each match we had, we solidified our chemistry as a team. And with every win, we made ourselves more of a threat until the point that we’re not the underdogs. We are simply a dangerous force to be reckoned with. The finals of this tournament are merely the culmination of our dedication to this competition and one another. And you two will not be ready like you were last time.”

“You won’t be ready because you put the blinders in front of your eyes and still think you can see the horizon,” Devin says while the stars in the sky make their presence known. A lighting fixture, perhaps a spotlight, illuminates the two finalists. 

“You two may hope to see all of your hard work in this tournament pay off, but you’re going to only see the results of the mistakes you made. Winning isn’t something natural, it’s not promised. There may have been a point in time where Lyza and I saw you two are mere kids with a lot of promise. But now?”

“All I see are two fools that are stuck in a dream when there’s only a nightmare waiting for them when they wake up.”

“Enjoy the finals. This is the biggest stage that either of you has been on. Take in the atmosphere, the pageantry. Listen to the roar of the biggest crowd you have ever heard as you make your way down to the ring. Look us in your eyes and don’t shy away from the future you have chosen. But when that bell rings, take note of the deafening silence. When it fades away, listen for your heartbeat as it overpowers everything else.”

Devin’s frantic gaze falls back into the cold default he usually carries.

But what I want you two to remember the most is just how bad it feels to lose in the biggest match of your lives. And how bad it hurts to lose to people that you have beaten before and choose to underestimate.”

Picking up on Devin’s expression, Lyza then proceeds to speak to the viewers.

“And this is why my associate doesn’t do the weather. The forecast would be filled with clouds, thunderstorms, and gusts. He does however make valid points to which I wouldn’t dismiss or take with a grain of salt.” 

She raises her right hand and moves her thumb and index finger around as if removing specs of salt from them. 

“Adding to what Devin said, we didn’t get this far just to ‘steal’ the victory from you two. As a millennial, I am cringing at your entitlement. At least acknowledge the final hurdle, which is far from smooth sailing. But if you want to talk about stealing, we’ll steal the show despite the stacked card. Consider us THIEVES of JOY when we come out of the Prudential Center as the winners.” 

“Make no mistake that I didn’t fight alongside my partner to get to the finals only to ‘steal’ from my opponents. We’re not to be confused with the sick individuals that get a thrill from ‘stealing candy from a baby,' or scamming grandma on a 55 and over dating site! Set your vision boards accordingly, use the remaining nights to dream to your heart’s desire. I look forward to you lovelies building yourselves to be the next sensation with your good looks and in-ring ability. Just remember that you’re not alone in this.”

She shakes her head “no,” smirking as Devin looks into the camera one last time.


-
[OFF CAMERA]

May 23, 2020

Lyza’s eyes process the grisly sight before her. She watches as knuckles bury into the jaw and flesh of one of her stalkers. When she blinks, the image shifts over to the same man being lifted off the ground. When she closes her eyes, she hears the sound of the human body coming in contact with the unforgiving brickwork of the wall. A groan of pain escapes the man, and she opens her eyes. A shadow stands nearby, checking their hands. It doesn’t take to recognize that the shadow was Devin, checking his hands for any cuts. His attention locks onto the blood trail on the wall, which leads down to his unconscious victim. Devin gives him a brisk kick if only to see if he was still able to move. When the henchman doesn’t, Devin massages his cheek and turns to Lyza.

A drizzle breaks out, bouncing off the man’s form. He makes his way over to Lyza, who he told to hide behind a crate. He offers a hand to her that she accepts. When Lyza gets to her feet, her position forces her to see what exactly happened to Devin back inside of the club. There’s a bruise on his cheek, a cut on his lip, and a line of blood drawing down his forehead. One of his icy eyes tries its best to open but to no avail. Devin taps his fingertips against the forehead wound, and he spits out some blood onto the ground. She takes in more of his face, but she couldn’t miss him grit his teeth as he takes a step forward. Adrenaline begins to leave him, and it tickles the damage on his side. He presses his hand against the area, checking the severity of himself. Despite his sharp wince, the duo knows that he would be okay. 

He needs to be, Devin probably tells himself. Lyza hopes that he is as she hears the door burst open. They had managed to escape the crowd through an unpopular exit, only used by staff. The two counted four men that came with Everett Klein. None of them were people that Devin knew. Perhaps that was why he was so ruthless with them. In any case, Devin turns around to face the last person. As they reach into their coat pocket, Devin rushes him before he could get the chance to stabilize. Lowering his shoulder, Devin presses the man against the wall with enough force to make him release a gun to the ground. 

Lyza stares at it but she looks up to see what she thought was a duplicate in Devin’s hand. She didn’t see him withdraw it, and he hadn’t done it in the nightclub. She looks to see that Devin had sent the other man’s gun away with a kick. So the firearm in his hand was his, solely his. Her tag team partner presses the cold, foreboding tip of the barrel against the man’s forehead. The safety was already off. Lyza’s eyes widen.

But there’s no click. 

No ear-shattering gunfire.

No splash of brain matter against the wall.

There’s only a soft, erratic sob.

The man’s hands are up a voiceless plea for his life. Devin, however, seems to notice Lyza’s expression. Or at least, it appears to be the case as he drives the side of the gun across the man’s jaw, knocking him to the ground. Devin then shoves the front of his dress shoe against the man’s face, disabling him from doing anything else throughout the night. The rainfall stops absolute silence from settling, but there are no words between the two. Devin turns away from his defeated foe and begins to walk down the alleyway. He stops and leans against the wall, where he rests for a moment. His head rises to look down to the alleyway’s opening. 

Were there more people coming? 

Did Everett bring more people and they were waiting?

Was there a flurry of bullets waiting for either of them at the exit?

Regardless, Devin looks back to Lyza. His features are grave, almost as cold as the rain, but his eyes tell her something else. He’s checking if she’s okay. Amidst everything, his pain, and his intentions, he was making sure of her own well-being. 

Although Lyza obliged in staying out of the fight, she remained vigilant in the event Devin was in severe danger. The guns and henchmen were typical accessories of the Stolzen personnel she dealt with throughout the years, yet this was her first time seeing someone stand up to them in this manner. Where she lacked the brute strength of the men, she was capable of harming them. Anytime she needed to use her unique abilities, she did it as discreetly as possible. Giving Devin sight of that without disclosure may compromise their relationship.

Being met with a battered partner, she exhales before breaking the silence between them.

“Do I take you to a CityMD so that you’re included in the list of ‘confirmed’ la’rona cases, or do you want some coconut oil and a bag of frozen cauliflower to nurse that mug of yours?” She inquires. 

Devin didn’t respond verbally. Instead, he seems to process the information differently and discards the joke as unimportant. Though, the act coincides with his eyes slowly returning back to their normal state. No longer did they reflect a man intent on hurting anyone. The solemn and withdrawn man Lyza met at a party stumbles his way back into the hurt body before her. He blinks a few times as the brunt of his injuries finally catches up with him. It isn’t anything severe. Nothing that a few days rest won’t fix, but it’s irritating at the end of the day. He motions to Lyza to keep going and the two begin to make their way out into the pouring rain. As they make it out of the exit, Devin sharply looks about, checking for any additional enemies. When none appears, he sees the flashing blue and red lights. They didn’t have too much time. When they arrive, Everett would do his job in making sure that nothing leaks out. It was the best cover for them because it forced him to be involved as well. 

Lyza watches as Devin peers down at his hands, checking his swollen and bloodstained knuckles. He accesses any damage to them and seems satisfied with the results. 

And shockingly, he speaks. 

“This isn’t Rocky or something,” he mumbles out.

Lyza shrugs as she didn’t disagree with him in that regard. His response gave her the reassurance that they would be ready for their upcoming match at Taking Hold of the Flame. 

“Maybe a hidden level on Streets of Rage. Grab your taser and look for the cabinets!” she says, matter-of-factly. 

Devin scoffs, showing a glimmer of a smile. As he continues down the street, he peers back to see the watchful eye of a police officer. He looks as though he was going to come after them, but he refrains. Perhaps the word had already gotten to them. Instead of hurrying, Devin takes his time getting him and Lyza out of range of the officer’s eye. Though when his eyes scan the group, he notices that someone was in the far back. When Devin spots him, it’s already apparent who they are. What’s worse is that the man’s eyes lock with Devin--they were waiting.

That man was the person coming after Devin. He was in the club, to which Devin processes everything. He traces his steps, seeing the biggest mistake in his approach. It wasn’t the directness of his march, but the tunnel vision that came from it. In the vicinity, this man was waiting. He may have had weapons on him. He had the chance to take Devin out like he had wanted to, but Devin was so preoccupied with dealing with Everett.

Devin saw the worst consequence flash in his mind. There was never a conversation with Everett because Devin was dead on the ground.

The assailant raises his fingers to his lips, shushing Devin. He then politely motions for Devin to go away. 

You’re getting off easy this time.

“You know this place better than I,” Devin murmurs. “Can you get us out of here?”

Lyza picks up on the non-verbal interaction between Devin and the assailant, not saying anything but instead she points to his swollen features. As they start walking away, he locates a pair of shades in his pocket that surprisingly, is still intact. He gets a thumbs up from Lyza before turning a corner as she leads the way to a street with a fair amount of activity from residents and passing vehicles.

“If only teleportation were a ‘side effect’ of this porcheria,” she says, taking her mask out to cover her nose and mouth as per NYC protocol. 

Everett’s words from before helped her piece some things about Devin. She could tell this wasn’t his first rodeo when dealing with the group of men given it could’ve ended horribly. Considering his involvement tonight she wasn’t sure what she’d do next with respect to the next phase of Everett’s “project.” At this moment, she only cared about their safety as they had the most important match to date to look forward to. 
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