It was a normal night in Storybrooke for the most part. Stars glimmered overhead, the road was tranquil and almost silent, save for the hum of your radio. But it was a late night, and a small snack was exactly what you needed. So you pulled into the local diner. And what awaited you was a clammer of blasts and grunts. There was a fight.

As you crept towards the door, peering through the glass, you saw a woman standing center of it all. Her suit was unblemished throughout the battle, as she flicked spells left and right with the slight movement of her wrist. And as the last man standing approached her, she placed a hand on his chest… and ripped out his heart. Silence hung over the diner like a cloak. And her eyes locked on you. She placed her hands in front of her, pointed right at you.

“Seriously, how many of you are there?” She sighs, her face the definition of frustration.