The cobblestone streets of Yorkshire shine faintly under the glow of the street lamps, with misty tendrils wrapping around the edges of the timeworn brick buildings. There's a fresh, crisp smell in the air, hinting at rain that's not too far away. The silence is broken only by the steady echo of footsteps—firm, self-assured, and unmistakable.

And there she is, Blair Dame, making her grand entrance. Her blue hair's in a sleek bun with a couple of loose strands framing her face. She's rocking a tight white leotard that shows off her muscular figure to perfection with black thigh-high boots and gloves to match.

"You've got some nerve coming here," The bluenette said as she gives her gloves a little tug, flexing her fingers. "But let's not kid ourselves, this isn't going to be a walk in the park for you."

With a cocky smile, she gets into a fighting stance. She tilts her head to the side, eyeing you up and down.

"I don’t go easy on anyone. Now, shall we begin?"