Rita smirks with satisfaction when her attack connects. There's something familiar about all of this, in an almost comforting way. Trading blows, dodging, casting, attacking... it's like a dance routine she's practiced a hundred times. When Strange fires his next attack, she raises her arms to block, taking the hit... but she manages to stay on her feet despite the impact causing her to stumble back a step. She's taken worse, hasn't she? Maybe that was the other Rita... but maybe that doesn't matter.

Rita presses her palms together, and as she pulls them apart, a stream of flame appears between them, growing longer as she opens her arms wide. She then seemingly grips one end of the string and brandishes it, snapping it out at the air like a whip. A smile tugs at her lips; this weapon feels just right, like something she's used before.

Wielding the red-hot fire whip, she lunges forward, lashing it at Strange. Should he block it, she'll just lash again and again until she strikes her target.