Mia Rayne was never one that intentionally tried to stand out from the crowd. Makeup was always kept minimal, her hair was washed and brushed, but that was about it, no special products, nothing to give her hair “extra bounce,” “shine,” or “volume.” Nothing to keep it in place, or to style it in any particular way. She didn’t look “bad” by conventional means, but more that she was always unique enough to be alluring, but plain looking enough to blend into crowds.

This is told to you, dear reader, so that you understand that when you’re told “Mia Rayne is standing outside the Colosseum,” you’re not really seeing Mia Rayne as you knew her. Her eyes are sunken in, constantly darting from shadow to shadow, her hair is frizzled, a tangled mess standing in all directions. She doesn’t seem to care about her disheveled appearance though, instead her eyes never seem to leave ground level, constantly darting from one crevice on the outside of the building to the next.

She takes a long, drawn out, and shaky breath, a noise coming from her akin to the sound a person makes when Death allows them to take their last breath. She moves suddenly, surprising anyone that might have been paying her any attention, moving to the nearest shadow, pressing herself against the wall, and imagining herself where she wanted to be. Slowly, her skin begins to shine with opalescent light, her face now covered with the mask of Mitaxia. As she opens her eyes and raises her head, she finds herself in the catacombs under the Colosseum, because let’s face it, what kind of Colosseum wouldn’t have a maze like catacomb underneath?

Mitaxia giggles to herself, tickled at the thought that anyone would be dense enough to imagine such a glorious building without a catacomb. So deceptively dangerous, the thought of the souls getting lost down in these very halls only made her sigh with giddy anticipation.

She begins to wiggle her fingers and the walls around her begin to move to form… Well, before any clear shapes can be discerned, Mitaxia waves a finger and an opalescent dome falls, blocking what she’s doing from view.

“In time, all will be revealed, but for now… Well, I hope Anhellica is well aware of the dangers she has awakened. Starting on this Infernalia, there will be blood, and it will be by my hands. One of her acolytes will fall, and if I have my way, more will follow in his stead. End Games is big, it deserves a big reveal, and now I leave you all to wonder what I could possibly be doing in this delightful maze? Big reveals, require big moments, and from what I hear, my target is building one of her own. Consider this? My public declaration of war and at Infernalia? Mitaxia draws first blood…”

Mitaxia falls silent, her breathing ragged and eager as she anticipates the near future.

“Annnnnnddddddyyyyyyyy….”

Her voice is sing-songy and suddenly, the dark catacombs surrounding Mitaxia disappear and fall to dust, only to reform to a small playground. A few kids wait in line for the slide, there’s a merry-go-round, and just like any good playground, a swingset. Mitaxia sits, her expression unreadable through her mask and swings back and forth lightly. When she talks, her voice is demonically high pitched, sing songy, and enough to put even the steeliest of hearts on edge.

“Andy, Andy, ANDY!”

She pauses, both swinging and talking. Her head whips up and suddenly, any witnessing her currently feels her looking into their very being. She cocks her head, her voice maintaining the same tone.

“Who… Are… YOU?”

Mitaxia leans back, kicking her feet up in the air and laughs as she picks up swinging again.

“Once upon a time, there are memories of you in this ‘ol head of mine, rattling around like pages lost in the winds of time. They recall an honorable man, one with aspirations of having a family. A wife, a lovely daughter or a son to take after dear old dad. That is the Andy Murray that I was expecting when I heard that you were roaming these halls. Imagine my surprise, when… I find out that a man with all the potential to be the very personification of what a ‘good’ person is supposed to be, squanders it all to be, what…? A bitch boy for the AMoles? The necessary first sacrifice to see exactly how far I’m going to take this? I have warned you all, I’m here for blood, and I won’t stop until I have it. I don’t know what they told you Andy, but they’re lying to you. They’d rather see you suffer as a solitary soldier, than thrive in love with your family. Don’t believe me? Well…”

Mitaxia stops swinging, and instead of inertia and the laws of physics slowing her down until she comes to a complete stop, she just… Stops, right in time. Suddenly, silently, her attentions centered directly on looking in the very soul of whom so ever lays eyes on these words. Your blood runs cold, goose bumps run up and down your arms, and for whatever reason, you’ve started shivering. Mitaxia knows, and as your blood begins to pump all of those hormones through your body, your brain signaling a fight or flight response, the sunny disposition of the playground is ripped away and replaced suddenly with a torture chamber, every machine being used, and all of the yells harmonizing into one, agonizing, symphany, with but one message, begging their captors for death. You can’t tell, because of the mask, but Mitaxia smiles at your unease as she waltzes around.

“Who is going to be by your side when I rip you from your reality and put you in my own? Who is going to mourn you after I end your life? Is Anhellica going to be there to hold your hand as you take your last breath? What about your former wife? A child that will never know your love, because you decided to devote your life to… What was it Andy? What made you choose this particular path?”

The agonizing chorus crescendos and Mitaxia spins around, relishing in the noise. She shrugs her shoulders.

“It doesn’t matter Andy. It’s much too late for ‘reason and logic.’ Your time has come, Death is knocking at your window, and guess what bitch? I’m the one that’s going to open the door to let that motherfucker in. What’s more? I’m going to laugh as you beg and plead, and promise that you’ll be ‘better.’ What I’m going to enjoy the most though Andy, is when it all finally clicks for you. When that light in your eyes goes out, because you realize that I am going to END you, and there isn’t anything that you, or whatever false idol you weirdos pray to, can do about it. I hope you have your affairs in order, because at Infernalia, I end you, your legacy, and I’m going to laugh every step of the way.”

Mitaxia waves her finger as if conducting an orchestra, the chorus of the cries of agony rise to a fever pitch and Mitaxia snaps her fingers. One by one, each of the tortured bodies explode in a cachophony of blood, gore, and ichor. Nothing can be seen at this point, but there is one thing that can be heard…

Mitaxia laughing, hysterically, maniacally, and to the surprise of no one, pure, unadulterated enjoyment.