city_limits Cassandra's End
"What... What am I going to do...?"

The figure crouched in semi-kneeling pose. Thwarted, defeated, exposed... One who had arrived in a blaze of fearful glory, seeking to enact the twin sins of murder and pain.

A woman, she might be, but Cassandra had been moulded by events beyond her control and now, with revenge satisfied, the blonde had since turned attentions to the same quest all spiteful children do.

This, however, was not her first time on Earth. The FBI had long taken an interest in matters supernatural. Decades ago, when Cassandra's last name still had a reason for existing, particular figures had made themselves known to her department. Employees of Wolfram and Hart, all. People whose private interests in ritual sacrifice had started a chain reaction of investigations.

But what was to have been a sting operation became something else; Cassandra could not have known of certain colleagues with vested interests. Colleagues with connections to that law firm. Colleagues, indeed, who had been secretly responsible for preventing erstwhile sensational crimes from being investigated too far.

The ceremony she had thought was being interrupted, was far from it: On the contrary, her team had entered preparations.

And it was she who was to be their sacrifice. Not one of blood, but of a life - Cassandra being hurled, body and soul, from this dimension to another. An innocent being cast into the proverbial dragon's maw, as it were. A testament of the group's willingness to do whatever was asked of them, while getting rid of a would-be interference.

For them, things settled down. They secretly graduated. They advanced. They began stepping up the twin ladders of career and occult knowledge, alike. Through diabolical means, they encountered success.

But in hellish dimensions, time moves in different ways. For some, it speeds up. For others, it slows down. Where Cassandra found herself, was the latter. A place of jungles, swamps, heat and storms. An environment where others, too, had found themselves, by both accident and design, where few but the strongest - the most ferocious - could survive.

And in that place was encountered a... Bride. One of Leviathan, to be precise, or so she claimed. A being called Atia, who deigned to save this visiting creature from initial death. A course of lessons most harsh were to begin, until Cassandra would alter her perspective... Would see things the way Atia wanted her to... Would understand that loyalty and survival could only be attained by adopting the correct mentality. Escape was promised. Vengeance, too. But she had to be remoulded, first. Had to prove herself worthy.

Had to become Atia's champion.

And so it was, with every passing moment spent in that realm, aggression and the hunger for victory seeped into Cassandra's very bones. Corruption was gradually attained, without even conscious realisation and Atia's will was done.

Regardless of what or who might have truly been responsible for her arrival, Cassandra's sudden lack of communication with her guardian patron caused an emotional shift within what was now a feral warrior. Cassandra could not have known of the redhead's exile. On Earth, years passed. In this strange land, only weeks.

Striking out for herself, Cassandra's vow was of finding vengeance at any cost and stealing from the Lamiae... That most certainly qualified. the bracelet seemed quaint, at best, but its power... Not just in destruction, but as that of an interdimensional key. At long last, Cassandra had found her way home and, soon, embarked on her quest of dispatching those she remembered as being responsible for her torment. Employees, past and present, of Wolfram and Hart, as well as those former FBI colleagues; seen, now, only as betrayers.

And when that was done, such a thirst for viciousness knew no end to its hunger. To its thirst. Even with the last finally dealt with, there was no... Conclusion. Cassandra's desire for conquest did not die with her last foe's dying breaths. Instead, she began to see this domain as another she could bring under her control. To do so in Atia's name seemed almost like a formality now. Only destructive ends brought her tranquillity.

But before such an unholy crusade could be embarked upon, the Lamiae wanted their property back... Before Cassandra could recruit the first of her army-to-be, from the legions of inhuman denizens, hellish and heavenly, who were now exposed to humanity's understanding, a much more private confrontation was undertaken.

Nine of the sisterhood writhed before her now, deciding what to be done. So many ways of inflicting pain... So many ways to keep a mortal alive... So many ways to use her as an example...

"What... What am I going to do...?"

It was Erato who slid forth to answer that question, looking down at the woman with something strangely wandering between superiority and pity. The bracelet now safely back with her sisters.

"You learn to live as all women do... For you, this will be punishment enough, we think. When once it returns, your guilt shall be as merciless as you with blade."

There was no way for Cassandra to do anything but... Exist. Without extreme violence, without an onslaught of horror in which to submerge herself, the hold of that other place would eventually find itself seeping away. As of now, without the Lamiae's sacred treasure, Cassandra was without leverage. An ordinary mortal. Albeit, one with an extraordinary life.

And one, as Erato had said, who would, in time, be forced to confront what she had been made to become.

Away from her, the creatures turned. Too much had been lost. It was time to be thankful for what had been retrieved.