"Aww did me and my friends kill someone you loved?" Jenny mocked with a baby voice, "well too bad!"

"Fuck you!" Bette cried running forward with her sword in hands.

"Bette no!" Alice and Tina screamed but it was too late. Bette had already swung at Jenny who didn’t even flinch. One of the women in the red leather suits jumped in the way and put her hand in the air.

Suddenly there was a giant force pushing against Bette and she couldn’t move the sword at all, it was like she was frozen.

"Didn’t your friends warn you?" Jenny said as Bette saw from the corner of her eye Tina engaging the other two women in the red suits with her knives, "these leather clad women are called Mord Sith. They are like dominatrixes slash human torture chambers. Their job is to torture and abuse people until they lose their free will."

"Bette they can reflect magic," Alice called from behind Bette, "magic is powerless against them. That sword is magic!"

"And that’s why your wizard friend is staying behind, she is powerless," Jenny laughed, "you know what to do my lovely mord siths."

Bette heard Tina’s cry of pain as she fell to the ground and both mord siths were on top of her doing something obviously painful to the blonde who just screamed in pain.

"Stop! Stop it!" Alice screamed.

"No!" Bette yelled trying to move her sword again.

The mord sith holding her captive just smirked and said, "I can’t hear what you’re saying, but I can tell you’re trying to escape. It’s not gonna work!"

"Let me go! Please! Tina!" Bette cried as Tina’s screams continued.

"Don’t let her touch you!" Jenny cried out, "you know a confessor’s magic is the only thing that can touch you and it means slow torturous death for you."

"Confess them! Confess them!" Bette cried groaning and trying to move her sword.

"What are telling her to do? Did I read your lips right? Confess them?" The mord sith said walking up to Bette so that they were face to face, "that would kill them!"

"Fuck you!" Bette snapped spitting in the mord sith’s face who didn’t flinch at the sentiment.

She pulled out from her belt a brown stick that looked like a curling iron and made an eerie buzzing sound.