It was another boring night, until their eyes met.
Rouge had been sitting at one of the tables at a club she frequented, drinking and looking for anyone who caught her eye, and she found someone. A curvaceous vixen with white fur, whose icey blue eyes met Rouge's from the other side of the dance floor. They met. They danced. They drank. They left in each others arms for the nearest motel. They had an incredible night. And then she was gone.
Rouge awoke the next morning, alone in the motel room. Words echoed in her head that she didn't remember the vixen saying to her.
Aren't you lucky....
Of course, she was pretty hung over. She was neither upset nor dissapointed that she'd been left. She did these sorts of hookups all the time. In fact it was often her who would disappear into the night, a couple hundred richer if she was lucky. But she liked this one, so she left her wallet alone this time.
The most concerning thing to her was her pounding migraine. She thought she'd held her liquor just fine that night, but these things happen sometimes. She swallowed a few advil on her way to the restroom, and hopped into the shower, unable to notice the pentagram marking that had appeared on her back...
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