#scarlet flame

IIIIII didn’t really know what I was doing with the colours on this ooooone!

BUT HEY! I’M BACK AND I HAVE MOTIVATION! WHOO!

Bombshell led the way down to the basement, where Scarlet Flame greeted them in her masquerade mask and flowing satin sashes and red lipstick and corset and thong, holding a bottle of wine in one hand and two glasses in the other. "B! It's been too long! Why don't we ever hang out anymore? And Crucifix! Have you spoken to your friend Mademoiselle Mitchell lately?" 

"Would you believe I woke up in her bed this morning?" said Crucifix with a conspiratory wink. 

SO I just realised I have never draw Puppets shade so i just had to!

Here’s an older Nem I drew. Throughout her journey, she starts to gain a fascination for a search group, who you can probably see influencing her look already

Below the read-more is her oldest form, but it’s somewhat of a spoiler, so view at your own choice

Thank God there was a bar in this underground fight club. 

"Another, s'il vous plaît," said Scarlet Flame to the barman, setting down a glass of wine, the faint burgundy residue coating its inside surface the only evidence that just a minute earlier, it had been full. It was an alarming pace to drink, even for her, but it was all she could do to keep warm in the cold catacombs, wearing only her costume of lacy and eating red lingerie and matching strappy stiletto shoes that would draw blood where the buckles bit into her ankles before she returned home for the night. Her handlers at the Division would grill her in the morning about why she'd been unreachable (she'd left her phone at home) and what had happened to her microchip (she'd damaged it to prevent getting caught in the middle of circumventing the law, but she could always play it off like it had been broken in a fight that broke out while she was making a routine street-level save). Normally, these sorts of rowdy venues weren't her scene. She would have much preferred to drink her wine at a glitzy hotel bar, or on a picnic blanket on the pretty public lawn in the shadow of the Waterfall Wall, but she was three weeks behind on rent and couldn't afford to part with any more plasma at the blood bank this month. Luckily, her friend Martika Mitchell from the radio station gave her the tip off that her acquaintance Crucifix would pay well for anyone willing to fight in a Deviants-only wrestling tournament. 

The barman set a fresh glass of cabernet before her and she finished it just as Spark mopped the floor with Human Hallucinogen. That was her cue: she was to be tonight's big surprise, a heel to come out of nowhere and defeat everyone's new favorite corpulent crusader and get the fanbase hyped to see him beat her next week, same time and place. 

"I won?" asked Spark, up in the ring and looking precocious in his basic domino mask and cute little Che Guevara-looking gray costume. For only being a college student, the kid had a natural flair for acting. If he wasn't so plump, the Division would probably be banging on his door, dying to get their claws in him as America's next friendly neighborhood golden boy. 

Some people had all the luck that way. 

"Holy shit, I can't believe I won! Unless there's anyone else I still have to fight?" 

Just as scripted, Flame threw her empty glass to the ground, where it shattered, ear-splitting and vulgar, against damp, cold stone. "I'll fight you, Spark." 

All booed as the famed bootlicker of the despised Heroics Division stepped over the ropes to invite herself into the ring. 

Spark's chubby cheeks flattened the tiniest perceivable amount as his eyes blew wide behind his mask, his jaw going slack in a spot-on imitation of shock. "Scarlet Flame? But this is an illegal fighting league! And you work for the government!"