"On the east gate we have the Vicious, Volatile, Voluptuous, Venomous, uhh. . . Ventriloquist?-"
"Ventriloquist? Really?" Claudette chimed in.
"-Velvet Vixen!" Charlie continued as if nothing happened. "The Whore of War, The Crimson Concubine, everybody, give it up for. . ."
Charlie made drumroll sounds as the east gate groaned open, revealing Scarlet silhouetted against the harsh floodlights.
The previous stages had carved their toll into her flesh. Blood seeped through torn fabric where her crimson robe clung to bruised skin. Her left arm bore a reopened gash that painted dark streaks down to her wrist. Yet somehow the wounds didn't diminish her—they sharpened her into something more dangerous, like a blade tempered in fire.
Her eyes locked onto the opposite gate with mechanical precision, pupils dilated and bloodshot. Every muscle coiled beneath torn silk as she moved with predatory grace across sand already darkened with old stains.
