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Between her nights of frequent prayer and watching television, Electra had been dazed from her loss in the Hardcore Clusterfork. A rosary always clasped in her hands, the same Hail Mary's and Our Father's recited repeatedly before a personal altar.
>Where do I begin again, Lord?
She would ask.
>Who shall I redeem myself upon?
She would consider.
>What is your response?
Her hand is laid upon her personal Bible, a red tome etched in gold trimmings. The cover opens, and skipping back one Testament to the next, she opens to the Letters of Paul the Apostle. Her finger touched down upon the parchment, and reading it aloud:
>Be angry and do not sin; do not let the sun go down on your anger, and give no opportunity to the devil.
>The devil... Who is it?
Pushing her glasses down her nose, she watches her television screen. A commercial plays of the WWA, showing clips of the Clusterfork from days before. Every face she both knows and has never known. Those she had fought, and left unfought. Then, in some way, it clicked with her.
>My path is still clear.
>I will claim that championship, no matter how far down I have fallen.
>The Lord is my strength and my shield; in him my heart trusts, and I am helped.
>Red Hands... The devil stands behind you. When the time comes, I shall purify and renew your convent with the Highest.
>Amen.
