The oil lamps of a solitary street in an upper-class Plumerian neighborhood burn. An exile forgotten by the bustle of aristocracy, the scene painted a clandestine stage of chaos for her to create. She takes a long drag from a stolen cigar. With a long huff of toxic chemicals, a sinister smile captures her visage. She flicks open a weathered and worn lighter - her partner in crime. The resonance of her hunting boots sounded on the cobblestone as she broke into a sprint. With a flick of her vial, the scent of foreign gasoline spritzes the sinful grounds. She ignites the first flame which danced like the children in the former orphanage. A familiar pungent scent filled her lungs and caused her eyes to dilate. Her maroon eyes, which reflected the deep reds, appeared a twilight purple. She extended her arm and spoke loudly. "It smells of those King's Dogs around here. It's honestly humiliating. I'll miss ya, little guy. So paint this town red for me. Let the majority of good common folk see a gorgeous inferno. This mark will remind the witnesses of the true spirit of rebellion." She stands before the ashen ground of her childhood home. A bitter taste of vengeance pangs in her throat as she continues forward. With a single throw, the ignited lighter hits the floor. A fire immediately sparks into conquest. Her dark laughter seeps. Liesma smeared her leather glove across her jawline. A charred soot paints her lips. With the explosion she makes her escape. A wall nearby crumbles before her and she steps across it with ease. "Hey. You get out of here while ya still can. The chances of survivin' in one piece is minimum."