05-29-2024, 09:34 PM
May 29th, 2024
Hushåll Zdunich
Howell, NJ
We find our half-size hero sitting cross-legged on her desk in her basement office. On the wall are her many championships, interspersed with pictures of her family. In the center of the wall is a large-print picture of her being presented the WWA Heavyweight Championship from, owner, Dani Lopez. Eavan is dressed in her normal street clothes of an American Murder Log t-shirt, tight black jeans, and Doc Martens boots. Her demeanor appears ragged; the balance of her professional work and her personal work draining her of energy, and yet she also appears determined. Strong, even. As she smiles meekly at the camera, she’s twirling a Desert Eagle on her finger before putting it down beside her.
Don’t worry about what you just saw. Consider it something I do for enjoyment when I’m not in the ring. I’d love to tell you all about the things I do as president of the Devil’s Doves but, unfortunately, that’s on a need-to-know basis, and well, ain’t none of you patched in to make it your business.
Now, the other places I work are very well aware that when I’m sitting down cross-legged like this that they’re in for storytime. I’d even have a microphone in my hand, twirling it in my hand as I did the Eagle you saw me playing with but I’dlike to think both of those things are equally deadly in my hand. See, all my career, I’ve been told I should be careful with what I say. That I should use my platform wisely. Eavan, you can’t say this. Eavan, you can’t do that. You’ll be suspended. You’ll be fired. Blah blah fucking blah. Welcome to story time.
All my life, I was told I was too small to do anything. I had a heart defect at birth that took a few operations to fix. Docs finally realized if they took it out completely, I’d be better off. I’ve had to fight my way from underneath my entire life. And along the way, I learned something about myself that a lot of people in this industry haven’t, and it shows.
Not everyone is going to be a world champion, and not everyone is going to make it out of Catering. Allow me to explain.
Eavan puts her hands together and leans in, getting into a more serious posture.
I’ve been in this business for a decade now. Started in the independents in the northeast US and eastern Canada for a few years, before breaking into the professional ranks in Vancouver in 2017. Got myself noticed right away because of the gear and gimmick I had at the time. I was the Steampunk Warrior. Red hair, cool look, yet green as goose shit. Somehow, within a few short weeks of being in that company in Vancouver, Ultimate Wrestling Entertainment, I was thrust into a World Championship match against one Callous James Calhoun, where I walked out with the gold. Around that same time, I was wrestling for the CWC. My apologies, but my time there was short and therefore don’t even remember what those initials stand for. Despite the brief time I was there, I won their Pure Championship. I’d only gone pro within a month and I was holding two titles simultaneously. I thought to myself that this wrestling shit was easier than people told me it’d be… and I was so wrong. I didn’t hold either of those titles long, and it wasn’t long after that that my stock plummeted. My brand was drying up.
I was becoming forgotten.
I needed a change.
Eavan picks up a small stack of eight-by-ten pictures of her different looks over the years. The steampunk-clad redhead she referenced earlier, different iterations of her with blonde hair, and even a spell with her having green hair with a darker gothic look. One picture she seemingly holds up the longest is her dressed as a darker version of Harley Quinn in a dark red leather outfit. Eavan chuckles and tosses the pictures towards the camera in front of her.
I’m not going to bore you with a detailed history, we’ll be here forever and I guarantee both you, and I, have better ways to spend our time so I’ll shorten it as best I can. I developed an incredible ego, walking into different companies and practically demanding I be at the top of the roster. After being told no by practically everyone, yet still needing the paycheck, I would stick around but have a huge resentment that I didn’t filter. It’s caused management and I, in every company I worked for at that time, a lot of headaches. A lot of in-fighting. Even a few firings.
And despite that, I regret nothing. I stood by my convictions, right or wrong. Did I apologize when I was proven wrong? Absolutely. One should always take responsibility for their actions but I regret nothing. Even as I won other titles and defended them as best I could, those lessons I spoke of at the beginning started to become more and more clear.
Not everyone is going to be a world champion, and not everyone is going to make it out of Catering.
Eavan gets up from the desk and turns her back to the camera as she admires the championships on the wall. Eavan shakes her head before leaping off the desk, before sitting on the desk facing the camera again.
So let’s talk about never getting out of Catering. If you ask any wrestler who’s willing to give you an honest answer, they’d tell you they got famous out of pure luck. See, when we’re starting out, and we’re trying to find something that makes us stand out, we’ll try something. Anything. Sometimes you catch lightning in a bottle and you’re skyrocketing with a full reserve of fuel. And sometimes? You’re getting booed out of the building. Not because you’re a great villain, but because your presentation sucks. The fans aren’t buying what you’re selling. And if the fans aren’t invested, why would management invest in you? You can be the greatest wrestler to step into a wrestling ring. You can look like a Greek god. And if the fans aren’t looking for a Greek god who can wrestle circles around everyone, guess what? You’re watching the shows from the monitors backstage instead of being IN the show. NOW, how you react, and how you ACT, determines your fate. Do you change things up? Do you look and see what’s missing in the industry and work to fill that void? Or do you sit on your ass and blame everyone else for not seeing you the way YOU see you? Take a wild guess who had to learn that lesson and often?
Eavan points both index fingers at herself and shrugs.
So, in looking for a niche for myself, I discovered that I rather enjoyed a particular style of wrestling, fueled by the voices of my past saying I’m too small. Hardcore and deathmatch wrestling. You look at other wrestlers in that genre, it’s mostly men who look like they’ve been through hell and back. The few women who do it don’t look much better. And then, there’s me, who I hope blends conventional beauty with an ugly side of this genre. There’s just something… erotic about bleeding and left feeling raw in front of a crowd. The sting of pinched flesh as it’s shredded by barbed wire. The sound of a chop across the chest, the crashes and bangs of being hit and hitting someone with a chair or being sent through exploding tables… sorry, I just got off just now.
And I always find it funny, listening to other wrestlers saying it’s garbage wrestling. And, you know what? I can’t fully argue that point. There are some people who really can’t wrestle, but they’ll practically kill themselves, and or try to maim their opponent, for a paycheck. And, yeah, there are fans who love that style, and more power to them. My style is a little bit of everything. I learn from everyone, I’ve wrestled everywhere, I’ve blended different elements into something I can use for myself. Including hardcore. Some people like the aerial stuff, and I have my Sykobitty Spin Sikle that has that element. Some people like the ground-and-pound and technical shit, and I can suplex you fifty ways from Sunday despite my lack of size, and lock you into the Tap or Die and let you scream and tap until I decide to release you. If hardcore ain’t for you, fine. Get out of the way so that others who do enjoy it can come, watch, be terrified and entertained.
Eavan chuckles to herself.
You know, I did say it was story time, and well, I tend to get on soapboxes once in awhile and not just because I’m short. Sometimes you need to say the things others won’t dare to, or seem scared to. So for them, I’ll use MY voice. Hey, use my voice sounds like it should be a title of an Evanescence song. Oh wait, never mind, already happened. And my wife who’s just outside the door in her guitar studio, covered it with…
Eavan looks down at her shirt then tugs at it to show it off to the camera.
American Murder Log. Hmm, how convenient was THAT plug I wonder. Anyways, back to my story. And it involves that picture right there, the big one behind me. I would become a World Champion once again in the Women’s Wrestling Alliance, a company that will forever be near and dear to my heart as it not only helped me become the wrestler I am now, but because I was the last student of our boss, Danielle Lopez, before she ultimately passed away in 2022. I didn’t just learn in the ring, but on a personal level as well.
Since then, I’ve been on a bit of a redemption journey. Tackling my mental health head-on, and just being the best version of me that I can. And it’s a hard road; some days I slip and some days are great, but it’s finding the strength to keep going. Sometimes it’s something small and insignificant like taking a single step forward. Sometimes I even manage to fly. For those who don’t know, I’m a mental health advocate. I suffer from Bipolar II disorder and Quiet Borderline Personality Disorder. So, yeah, some days, sometimes for many days at a time, I’m a complete mess. And yet, I always find my way back, even if it requires a bit of damage control when I return.
Eavan extends her arms like she is showing off her environment. Eavan gets up from the desk and takes the phone she’s recording on and steps out of her office for a minute, showing off the recording studio and lounge area where her wives Katra and Adriana, as well as her daughters Emileigh, Iris and Violet are all hanging out listening to music or gaming. They all wave to the camera and say hello before Eavan walks back into her office and places the phone back on its stand before returning to sitting on her desk.
Something I never discuss much, mostly because I hate the possibility of sounding like I’m bragging, is the fact that personally, I’m set for life in every way manageable. It might explain why I tend to chuckle to myself when I hear people calling themselves Queens. Even presenting themselves as much to the audience, and all the while you have a mouthy little bitch like me who’s likely got a legit bigger queendom than they can possibly fathom. And I built my queendom myself, brick by fucking brick.
Things happened in my life, both good and bad, which has allowed me to be in a position where I don’t have to struggle for my next meal anymore. I went from the lowest of lows of being homeless and a junkie to being straight and a solid foundation financially. I basked in addiction, begged for death in an abandoned warehouse in Los Angeles with a needle in my arm and coke in my veins. I wasn’t saved, I dug my own way out. Found a sliver of light, a wisp of cool air, and followed them until I crawled out of the cave in my head. Swallowed my pride and asked for help, and day by day, hour by hour, minute by minute, I had to consciously choose whether I wanted to live or die. Fight or lay down my shield.
And I grew stronger. Family and friends I thought had abandoned me were there to greet me and give me that extra strength to keep going. I had a friend, a dear and close friend, die on me because she couldn’t beat her demons. Through her estate, I was able to invest in things that paid off large before it crashed. I’m good for life, every one of those women you saw earlier are also set for set.
Today, I’m well aware of how fortunate I am. A family who loves me and never stopped even when I was at my lowest, which has grown since. I’m a wife again, and a mother. As my way of paying things forward, I created a place for women and girls to find their own voice, to shake off their own demons, to be better people in their own way through the Krigarakademin. The Warrior Academy. Since its inception a year ago, I have helped turn the lives of dozens of girls around for the better and I take more pride in that than I do any of my successes in the ring.
Which now begs the question. What does everything I have told you have to do with the Taking Hold of the Flame battle royale? Why risk injury or worse?
Eavan removes the street clothes she was wearing to reveal her ring gear underneath. Her demeanor changes as well as she becomes more intense.
The simple answer is everything. While thirty-nine other people are going to say they’re out to win it all and go on to face the World Champion, I know… my limitations. Unlike most everyone else in this match, I don’t have dreams of grandeur. In my short time in SCW, I’ve grown a following I’m proud to have and I’m just getting started. However, with that being said, I’ve seen the roster we have here. I’ve seen the work and passion some of these people in the company have, and to even get to that level is a mountain to climb. And I’ve only just arrived. So, I know, I will not be winning this match but I know what I WANT to accomplish within it regardless.
As for why risk injury or worse? Why not? It isn’t about the money. I do this because I still love this business, much as some of it, and a lot of its people, don't like me. Mainly, though, I do it for my girls. My daughters, my wives, my students, my families. I do it to show them that adversity will always be prevalent, but it’s how to overcome said adversity, or learn from your failures, that will allow you to learn the person you are and the person you can become. I fight for THEM so that THEY fight for themselves.
Eavan puts a hand over her heart, then smiles a wicked smile as she lifts a barbed-wire crowbar into view.
And? If that wasn’t enough, and forgive me for being selfish here, but this here is Barbie. And Barbie is a bad bitch who’s constantly thirsty. She needs blood to be happy and she has a tendency to latch onto people to get the blood she needs. And I would be a bad mother if I didn’t bring my child to London and let her feed. And Barbie’s been VERY good to me. We’ve had some great adventures together. Such as jumping off balconies into tables while a lifeless body lay below. Leaping off turnbuckles onto announce tables while Barbie feasted on a poor soul’s face. Diving off forty foot scaffolds onto yet another unfortunate victim. However, the blood of the forty in this match won’t fully quench her thirst. There is but one who can satisfy her and that is our Underground Champion, Kim Williams.
So, I will let any of the other thirty-nine reach for the stars, shoot for the moon, add in whatever buzzword-heavy cliche you want to to make that point. Why would I set myself up to believe I can win when wisdom tells me I am far from being in the running? Why hang the shackles of Loser around my neck before I even step into that match? The others can try and belittle me by saying I’m aiming lower, but the truth is I’m merely self-aware. I only want one thing.
To drink. And become champion of the only division that matters to me.
I don’t want, nor need, to be the top person in the company. I will, though, be the most feared.
For I am the daughter of a Black Wolf. Forged in Viking blood and iron on the wings of a Devil’s Dove. I am Sykobitty, and I am Warrior.
And the hunt… begins… now.
Hushåll Zdunich
Howell, NJ
We find our half-size hero sitting cross-legged on her desk in her basement office. On the wall are her many championships, interspersed with pictures of her family. In the center of the wall is a large-print picture of her being presented the WWA Heavyweight Championship from, owner, Dani Lopez. Eavan is dressed in her normal street clothes of an American Murder Log t-shirt, tight black jeans, and Doc Martens boots. Her demeanor appears ragged; the balance of her professional work and her personal work draining her of energy, and yet she also appears determined. Strong, even. As she smiles meekly at the camera, she’s twirling a Desert Eagle on her finger before putting it down beside her.
Don’t worry about what you just saw. Consider it something I do for enjoyment when I’m not in the ring. I’d love to tell you all about the things I do as president of the Devil’s Doves but, unfortunately, that’s on a need-to-know basis, and well, ain’t none of you patched in to make it your business.
Now, the other places I work are very well aware that when I’m sitting down cross-legged like this that they’re in for storytime. I’d even have a microphone in my hand, twirling it in my hand as I did the Eagle you saw me playing with but I’dlike to think both of those things are equally deadly in my hand. See, all my career, I’ve been told I should be careful with what I say. That I should use my platform wisely. Eavan, you can’t say this. Eavan, you can’t do that. You’ll be suspended. You’ll be fired. Blah blah fucking blah. Welcome to story time.
All my life, I was told I was too small to do anything. I had a heart defect at birth that took a few operations to fix. Docs finally realized if they took it out completely, I’d be better off. I’ve had to fight my way from underneath my entire life. And along the way, I learned something about myself that a lot of people in this industry haven’t, and it shows.
Not everyone is going to be a world champion, and not everyone is going to make it out of Catering. Allow me to explain.
Eavan puts her hands together and leans in, getting into a more serious posture.
I’ve been in this business for a decade now. Started in the independents in the northeast US and eastern Canada for a few years, before breaking into the professional ranks in Vancouver in 2017. Got myself noticed right away because of the gear and gimmick I had at the time. I was the Steampunk Warrior. Red hair, cool look, yet green as goose shit. Somehow, within a few short weeks of being in that company in Vancouver, Ultimate Wrestling Entertainment, I was thrust into a World Championship match against one Callous James Calhoun, where I walked out with the gold. Around that same time, I was wrestling for the CWC. My apologies, but my time there was short and therefore don’t even remember what those initials stand for. Despite the brief time I was there, I won their Pure Championship. I’d only gone pro within a month and I was holding two titles simultaneously. I thought to myself that this wrestling shit was easier than people told me it’d be… and I was so wrong. I didn’t hold either of those titles long, and it wasn’t long after that that my stock plummeted. My brand was drying up.
I was becoming forgotten.
I needed a change.
Eavan picks up a small stack of eight-by-ten pictures of her different looks over the years. The steampunk-clad redhead she referenced earlier, different iterations of her with blonde hair, and even a spell with her having green hair with a darker gothic look. One picture she seemingly holds up the longest is her dressed as a darker version of Harley Quinn in a dark red leather outfit. Eavan chuckles and tosses the pictures towards the camera in front of her.
I’m not going to bore you with a detailed history, we’ll be here forever and I guarantee both you, and I, have better ways to spend our time so I’ll shorten it as best I can. I developed an incredible ego, walking into different companies and practically demanding I be at the top of the roster. After being told no by practically everyone, yet still needing the paycheck, I would stick around but have a huge resentment that I didn’t filter. It’s caused management and I, in every company I worked for at that time, a lot of headaches. A lot of in-fighting. Even a few firings.
And despite that, I regret nothing. I stood by my convictions, right or wrong. Did I apologize when I was proven wrong? Absolutely. One should always take responsibility for their actions but I regret nothing. Even as I won other titles and defended them as best I could, those lessons I spoke of at the beginning started to become more and more clear.
Not everyone is going to be a world champion, and not everyone is going to make it out of Catering.
Eavan gets up from the desk and turns her back to the camera as she admires the championships on the wall. Eavan shakes her head before leaping off the desk, before sitting on the desk facing the camera again.
So let’s talk about never getting out of Catering. If you ask any wrestler who’s willing to give you an honest answer, they’d tell you they got famous out of pure luck. See, when we’re starting out, and we’re trying to find something that makes us stand out, we’ll try something. Anything. Sometimes you catch lightning in a bottle and you’re skyrocketing with a full reserve of fuel. And sometimes? You’re getting booed out of the building. Not because you’re a great villain, but because your presentation sucks. The fans aren’t buying what you’re selling. And if the fans aren’t invested, why would management invest in you? You can be the greatest wrestler to step into a wrestling ring. You can look like a Greek god. And if the fans aren’t looking for a Greek god who can wrestle circles around everyone, guess what? You’re watching the shows from the monitors backstage instead of being IN the show. NOW, how you react, and how you ACT, determines your fate. Do you change things up? Do you look and see what’s missing in the industry and work to fill that void? Or do you sit on your ass and blame everyone else for not seeing you the way YOU see you? Take a wild guess who had to learn that lesson and often?
Eavan points both index fingers at herself and shrugs.
So, in looking for a niche for myself, I discovered that I rather enjoyed a particular style of wrestling, fueled by the voices of my past saying I’m too small. Hardcore and deathmatch wrestling. You look at other wrestlers in that genre, it’s mostly men who look like they’ve been through hell and back. The few women who do it don’t look much better. And then, there’s me, who I hope blends conventional beauty with an ugly side of this genre. There’s just something… erotic about bleeding and left feeling raw in front of a crowd. The sting of pinched flesh as it’s shredded by barbed wire. The sound of a chop across the chest, the crashes and bangs of being hit and hitting someone with a chair or being sent through exploding tables… sorry, I just got off just now.
And I always find it funny, listening to other wrestlers saying it’s garbage wrestling. And, you know what? I can’t fully argue that point. There are some people who really can’t wrestle, but they’ll practically kill themselves, and or try to maim their opponent, for a paycheck. And, yeah, there are fans who love that style, and more power to them. My style is a little bit of everything. I learn from everyone, I’ve wrestled everywhere, I’ve blended different elements into something I can use for myself. Including hardcore. Some people like the aerial stuff, and I have my Sykobitty Spin Sikle that has that element. Some people like the ground-and-pound and technical shit, and I can suplex you fifty ways from Sunday despite my lack of size, and lock you into the Tap or Die and let you scream and tap until I decide to release you. If hardcore ain’t for you, fine. Get out of the way so that others who do enjoy it can come, watch, be terrified and entertained.
Eavan chuckles to herself.
You know, I did say it was story time, and well, I tend to get on soapboxes once in awhile and not just because I’m short. Sometimes you need to say the things others won’t dare to, or seem scared to. So for them, I’ll use MY voice. Hey, use my voice sounds like it should be a title of an Evanescence song. Oh wait, never mind, already happened. And my wife who’s just outside the door in her guitar studio, covered it with…
Eavan looks down at her shirt then tugs at it to show it off to the camera.
American Murder Log. Hmm, how convenient was THAT plug I wonder. Anyways, back to my story. And it involves that picture right there, the big one behind me. I would become a World Champion once again in the Women’s Wrestling Alliance, a company that will forever be near and dear to my heart as it not only helped me become the wrestler I am now, but because I was the last student of our boss, Danielle Lopez, before she ultimately passed away in 2022. I didn’t just learn in the ring, but on a personal level as well.
Since then, I’ve been on a bit of a redemption journey. Tackling my mental health head-on, and just being the best version of me that I can. And it’s a hard road; some days I slip and some days are great, but it’s finding the strength to keep going. Sometimes it’s something small and insignificant like taking a single step forward. Sometimes I even manage to fly. For those who don’t know, I’m a mental health advocate. I suffer from Bipolar II disorder and Quiet Borderline Personality Disorder. So, yeah, some days, sometimes for many days at a time, I’m a complete mess. And yet, I always find my way back, even if it requires a bit of damage control when I return.
Eavan extends her arms like she is showing off her environment. Eavan gets up from the desk and takes the phone she’s recording on and steps out of her office for a minute, showing off the recording studio and lounge area where her wives Katra and Adriana, as well as her daughters Emileigh, Iris and Violet are all hanging out listening to music or gaming. They all wave to the camera and say hello before Eavan walks back into her office and places the phone back on its stand before returning to sitting on her desk.
Something I never discuss much, mostly because I hate the possibility of sounding like I’m bragging, is the fact that personally, I’m set for life in every way manageable. It might explain why I tend to chuckle to myself when I hear people calling themselves Queens. Even presenting themselves as much to the audience, and all the while you have a mouthy little bitch like me who’s likely got a legit bigger queendom than they can possibly fathom. And I built my queendom myself, brick by fucking brick.
Things happened in my life, both good and bad, which has allowed me to be in a position where I don’t have to struggle for my next meal anymore. I went from the lowest of lows of being homeless and a junkie to being straight and a solid foundation financially. I basked in addiction, begged for death in an abandoned warehouse in Los Angeles with a needle in my arm and coke in my veins. I wasn’t saved, I dug my own way out. Found a sliver of light, a wisp of cool air, and followed them until I crawled out of the cave in my head. Swallowed my pride and asked for help, and day by day, hour by hour, minute by minute, I had to consciously choose whether I wanted to live or die. Fight or lay down my shield.
And I grew stronger. Family and friends I thought had abandoned me were there to greet me and give me that extra strength to keep going. I had a friend, a dear and close friend, die on me because she couldn’t beat her demons. Through her estate, I was able to invest in things that paid off large before it crashed. I’m good for life, every one of those women you saw earlier are also set for set.
Today, I’m well aware of how fortunate I am. A family who loves me and never stopped even when I was at my lowest, which has grown since. I’m a wife again, and a mother. As my way of paying things forward, I created a place for women and girls to find their own voice, to shake off their own demons, to be better people in their own way through the Krigarakademin. The Warrior Academy. Since its inception a year ago, I have helped turn the lives of dozens of girls around for the better and I take more pride in that than I do any of my successes in the ring.
Which now begs the question. What does everything I have told you have to do with the Taking Hold of the Flame battle royale? Why risk injury or worse?
Eavan removes the street clothes she was wearing to reveal her ring gear underneath. Her demeanor changes as well as she becomes more intense.
The simple answer is everything. While thirty-nine other people are going to say they’re out to win it all and go on to face the World Champion, I know… my limitations. Unlike most everyone else in this match, I don’t have dreams of grandeur. In my short time in SCW, I’ve grown a following I’m proud to have and I’m just getting started. However, with that being said, I’ve seen the roster we have here. I’ve seen the work and passion some of these people in the company have, and to even get to that level is a mountain to climb. And I’ve only just arrived. So, I know, I will not be winning this match but I know what I WANT to accomplish within it regardless.
As for why risk injury or worse? Why not? It isn’t about the money. I do this because I still love this business, much as some of it, and a lot of its people, don't like me. Mainly, though, I do it for my girls. My daughters, my wives, my students, my families. I do it to show them that adversity will always be prevalent, but it’s how to overcome said adversity, or learn from your failures, that will allow you to learn the person you are and the person you can become. I fight for THEM so that THEY fight for themselves.
Eavan puts a hand over her heart, then smiles a wicked smile as she lifts a barbed-wire crowbar into view.
And? If that wasn’t enough, and forgive me for being selfish here, but this here is Barbie. And Barbie is a bad bitch who’s constantly thirsty. She needs blood to be happy and she has a tendency to latch onto people to get the blood she needs. And I would be a bad mother if I didn’t bring my child to London and let her feed. And Barbie’s been VERY good to me. We’ve had some great adventures together. Such as jumping off balconies into tables while a lifeless body lay below. Leaping off turnbuckles onto announce tables while Barbie feasted on a poor soul’s face. Diving off forty foot scaffolds onto yet another unfortunate victim. However, the blood of the forty in this match won’t fully quench her thirst. There is but one who can satisfy her and that is our Underground Champion, Kim Williams.
So, I will let any of the other thirty-nine reach for the stars, shoot for the moon, add in whatever buzzword-heavy cliche you want to to make that point. Why would I set myself up to believe I can win when wisdom tells me I am far from being in the running? Why hang the shackles of Loser around my neck before I even step into that match? The others can try and belittle me by saying I’m aiming lower, but the truth is I’m merely self-aware. I only want one thing.
To drink. And become champion of the only division that matters to me.
I don’t want, nor need, to be the top person in the company. I will, though, be the most feared.
For I am the daughter of a Black Wolf. Forged in Viking blood and iron on the wings of a Devil’s Dove. I am Sykobitty, and I am Warrior.
And the hunt… begins… now.
![[Image: BqBpRJs.png]](https://i.imgur.com/BqBpRJs.png)