Holding the katana he’d handed off to her, Sheri observed Deadblood’s opponent warily. While Deadblood had given her a quick rundown on Kizmat just before they’d come out, words could only express so much and she’d wanted to see for herself exactly what Deadblood was up against. Well, here he was, in the flesh, and Sheri again felt a stab of nervousness. What if Deadblood didn’t manage to win this match and keep his title? Where would that leave them?


While Deadblood had continued to voice his assurance that he’d be walking away from this match the victor up until literally the moment they’d walked out, she couldn’t help but still be concerned with the fact he was going to be squaring off with a vampire. And while she was out here to help him however she could, and she already had ideas forming in her head this very moment, the idea of it was enough to still put her on edge. The man was absolutely crazy, how could he not be? Sheri wasn’t quite what would be considered normal of course, but you didn’t see her out purposely picking fights with vampires and what have you, all for the chance to be named champion and have a moment of glory in the ring.

The whole idea was almost surreal to her, the fact that Deadblood would not only willingly but almost eagerly put himself in a position like that. Fighting for anything other than to achieve an objective or out of self preservation was a bit foreign to her, but as she thought about it more she supposed that those two things could in a way be applied to the situation here. In light of their separation from the company it was imperative that he manage to retain that shiny belt of his, and she’d do whatever she could to make sure that happened.

Still thinking Deadblood was insane to be involved in this business, facing creatures with powers that she could only begin to imagine, Sheri fixed her cold grey stare on Kizmat, and simply waited for whatever would come next. One way or another, Deadblood would be walking away tonight with that belt still around his waist.