[The door to the arena swings open wide, the sun illuminating the hallway, blinding the camera briefly before the cameraman could refocus. Through the shining, white light appears three bodies. The one in the middle moves closer, adjusting the duffle bag over her sloping shoulder. Her hand lifts to pull off a pair of dark sunglasses, exposing the glittering blue eyes of Gwenivere “Aphrodisia” Jordan. She pauses briefly to stuff the sunglasses into the pocket of her ankle-length trench coat. Beneath the trench coat, is a red halter top that held her breasts tight and up to her frame, and a pair of black jeans that were held on by a pyramid belt. Her face was predominantly unscathed by makeup. There was only a little purplish-red lipstick on her pierced lips and black eyeliner accentuating her eyes. Her hand squeezes the hand of a man as she waits for him to catch up.]

Gwenivere Jordan: C’mon, c’mon, you two. My match is first.

[The hand she squeezes is that of Darkstar. His face is painted in its usual blue and black techno-looking skull. His wrestling gear is all on including a black hooded robe that covers most of his body. The hood is up and beneath the pain his face is expressionless other than his blue eyes looking crazed as usual. He says nothing to her words. On Gwen's other side is Demonica. She wears a shiny, short, black skirt and a matching top that stops above her navel, showing off her attractive body and her bruised abs. Her hair is in its normal braids and blades while her eyes have crimson makeup around them and her mouth wears black lipstick. She appears to be in decent spirits, but it's difficult to determine.]

Demonica: We're comin’, keep your clothes on.

[Gwenivere turns and grins at Demonica, sweetly, batting her eyelashes before beginning to walk, leading the way to their dressing room. Once there, she drops her duffle bag onto the sofa, pulls out her work clothes and ducks behind a screen in the corner of the room. She begins tossing the clothes that she is wearing over the screen, pulling the work clothes off the edge of the screen and pulling them on. She emerges soon after, drawing her long hair into an elastic. It is obvious that she’s nervous. First match in about two months. She nods once at Demmy, seeing that she’s ready to get to the ring, then gazes at DS with a nervous shrug.]

Gwenivere Jordan: Wish me luck?

[A grunt escapes his cracked and painted lips. His head turns towards her from his spot sitting in a chair. He's almost deathly still. A silent intensity seems to surround him.]

Darkstar: You won't need luck. You're going to win...

[Gwenivere smiles faintly as she hunches over. She snags a kiss from the man beneath the hood before walking out the door, followed closely by her manager, Demonica. She glances at Demonica who is giving her an odd look.]

Gwenivere Jordan: What?

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