The first panel shows an interior of the penthouse office of Damage, Inc. CEO Matilda Fortune. At a small desk in the lobby, Matilda's personal assistant Stan is busy manning the phone as the bell on the private elevator chimes. The elevator doors slide open...

Matilda (storming into her office): ...boy that guy had a lot of nerve... "little Matilda"... I'll little Matilda him into next week... firebombs... vampires... and whats'ername... yeah, who's prettier NOW, sister....

Stan: Nice trip, hon?

Matilda: (storming past Stan without a glance): Coffee.

Stan (moving to pour some tea): Right away.

Matilda: Scratch that.

Stan (adding sugar to the tea): Check

Matilda (stomps past her desk and stands, arms folded, peering out over the NYC skyline): Gin.

Stan (preparing a tea tray): Check

Matilda: Scratch that.

Stan: Check

Matilda: Tea, one lump

Stan (brings the tea to her desk): Check

Matilda (startled): Er... thanks. Clear my appointments for the next two weeks. And book a flight for me.

Stan:  (looks painfully at the appointment book, from a distance the white pages look gingham from all of the ink and "penciling in"): Sigh... Check. Where
to?

Matilda (her eyes drift from the skyline to a rather dumpy looking house plant in the corner): Verona. And wire di'Grassi. Tell him to clear his schedule. I'll make it worth his while.

Stan: The pupil misses her Master?

Matilda (still eyeing the plant with great scrutiny): Master di'Grassi was kind enough to extend an open invitation to me. When I won my blade from him, he said that I had learned a great deal about the sword, but I was welcome to return to him when I was ready to learn about the fight. Then he tried to carve his initials on my handbag.

Stan (cocking his head up from the appointment book): Your handbag?

Matilda: He was quite drunk at the time.

Stan: Check. So the trip to New Orleans?

Matilda: Was quite the eye-opener.

Stan: What exactly happens on these trips of yours anyways?

Matilda: Giant fireballs drop from the sky, captains of industry confront their demons in aerial combat, movie stars hurl small boys through the walls of decaying mansions, uppity beauty queens wield poison daggers...

Stan: All right, I get it. You don't want to tell me what really goes on. Fine.

Matilda (smiles, turns from the plant and the window, heads back to the lobby): You're a peach, Stan. I'm headed home to pack. Phone me with the details for
the trip. And one more thing...

Stan: I'll water your plant.

Matilda: Check.

A series of panels takes us through an air flight to Italy and a quick trip to Verona. To the fencing salon of Master di'Grassi, last of that line of great Italian rapier fighters. Here is where Matilda will hone her skills and tighten up the weaknesses that were shown to her on her trip to the Quarter.