On the Edge...

We've all heard that there's method to madness. A technique to insanity. Some have systematic structure to their's, while others maintain a controlled chaos. But those who truly experience that... instability... that... that unbridled lunacy... those people know that there's also a rhythm to madness.

Start with the pounding of one's pulse, quickening every few beats. It's followed closely by whispers in your head. Soft, repetitive; a different, unrecognizable language. Soon enough, it all picks up. Breath starts to quicken. The voices only get louder. You start to tremble with that rhythm, the 'chorus' rapidly approaching. And you open your mouth...

... to scream.

And the music cuts out. The war drums from the battle for your mind come to an abrupt end. Perhaps you've suddenly taken back the power over your subconscious. However... even when in control, one can be warped and molded by the mayhem that never actually left. Come now. Once those devils take over... there's no escape. It's a constant power struggle. And when they go quiet... that's when you should be most concerned.

Silence kills as much as truth.

Cobwebs dirtying your mind are brushed away as the gears begin to turn again. They take advantage of that. Make you think. Make you remember. The truth, the godforsaken miserable fucking truth... comes back to haunt you...

What if things were different?

You start to look back. Those skeletons are peeking out of your closet. They beckon to you, mocking you, forcing you to recall the past; to wonder if things would've been different if you'd just had a fucking prayer to fall back on. If only you could put all of your faith and trust in an imaginary being in the sky. Maybe it would've given you hope. Maybe it would've given you peace of mind. Maybe it would've... saved you...

I'm on the edge. And I've got one foot over...

My hands were stained. They'd been stained for a long time now. Metaphorically... literally. Tainted with the blood of many. Of course, that bloodshed always just led to more bloodshed. That hatred always bred hatred. And where did it end up? A puddle at my feet. The grass was never green; it always had a scarlet tint. Every day I lived it lost it's color. More and more. Until eventually all I saw was... that... hypnotizing crimson...

Then I grew up.

What was it that made me realize that I had to tear myself away? The swift hand across my cheek? The constant betrayal? The lack of acceptance and the snide fucking remarks from all those around me? Heh. No matter what I ever did, it was never enough. I could be the sweetest child and still feel that lit cigarette burned into my goddamn skin. I could be the smartest, most well-behaved kid and still receive the nails in my shoes and spit on my face. It didn't. Ever. Matter.

So naturally, I rebelled. With every comment, every insult, and every action against me... I grew angrier... more violent... until one day I would snap. But that's a story for another time. At the moment, my vision was clear. Well, as clear as it could be considering the whole red mist in the eyes thing... still hadn't forgiven that asshole for that, despite our supposed 'truce' at the past event.

"Though I sort of deserved it. I guess." I murmured aloud to myself, kicking at the dirt there on the cliffside. I was standing at the top, near the end, of the Sleeping Giant (a shitload of mesas and sills-- steep cliffs and the like). It was high up. It was dramatic. It was dangerous. And apparently, in Judas Dathyn's eyes... it was the perfect place to go camping.

I glanced over at the other half of my tag team. Dathyn, a strange but methodical man, sat on a large rock and seemed to be talking on the phone (how he was getting any kind of reception is beyond me). Oddly enough, the Judas I and others knew from the past was largely different from the one sitting before me now. But then again, anyone can play part in a masquerade.

Pulling my gaze away from Dathyn, I slowly turned my head to the cliff. Hundreds of feet below was a jagged, rocky bottom. I stepped slightly closer, bits of debris falling right at my toes. "No risk, no reward."

"Exactly." My partner's voice drifted toward me, startling me. He'd been rather quiet, listening to the person on the other line and mumbling responses. I glanced over my shoulder to see him watching me with that easy, slightly creepy smile of his.

"You're going to be on that phone a lot, I presume. Making calls to 'clients' are we?"

"What can I say, I'm a business man."

"....business man, huh."

When I lifted an eyebrow toward him, the smile simply remained, turning sideways slightly as he responded calmly, "An unorthodox business man."

"Unorthodox is right."

"I'd say we're both a bit eccentric, wouldn't you?" His dark eyes never left mine. "That's why I picked you. We're more alike than you'd care to admit."

"Never said we weren't." I responded curtly, swiveling my head back to stare at the opposite cliff about 20 feet away. On that particular rock sat my manager, Jen Ryette. Rather than being her usual obnoxious, exceedingly loud self, she seemed to be in deep thought. That, of course, was rather disconcerting. Fidgeting with the zipper of my leather jacket, I cleared my throat, causing the small Asian woman to peer over.

The scene before her was what kept her so far away. A fire had been made, Dathyn having set up everything to make it look as much like a camp as he could. He sat in front of the tent he'd brought with us, donning irritatingly professional attire. Suit, nice shoes... the whole nine yards. I, on the other hand, wore a leather jacket, bright red tanktop, and dark jeans. My thick heeled boots were rather dirty now but... whatever. 

Not that our choice of dress was what had her wary. It was most likely the array of animals strewn upon the ground. I mean... none of them were extinct or anything. The usual squirrels, birds, and so on. All still... all silent. Judas seemed bemused, even as he was on the phone. Jen... seemed alarmed. And I always thought she liked it when these things happened...

Twitch.

I slapped the side of my head, before trailing my hand down my face and rubbing my cheek. It smeared a bit of red across, but I paid it no mind. Turning around, I then casually strolled over to where Dathyn was. A strange 'squish' under my boot made me tense up, yet I shook it off and continued toward our camp area. Sitting down on the opposite side of the fire, I took a breath in.

Metallic.

Twitch.

"VoW Tag Champions..." I said aloud in a bored tone, resting an elbow on my knee and placing my chin into my palm. "...I suppose I'm excited to win the straps..."

"We haven't won yet." My tag partner covered the lower half of his phone when speaking to me, and I shrugged a shoulder.

"I give it to Shay... he's got balls. Not only going into the ring alone, but going against us alone." Pausing, I then let my eyelids lower as my voice, softer than usual, floated over the flames. "A bold endeavor. But fruitless. If I can defeat him alone... he's got a snowball's chance in Hell against both of us."

I shook my head. Shay McClure... he was never really much of a competitor. I'd always said that... and would stick by that opinion. However, he was willing to go into this handicap match to, at the very least, fight in his partner's name. A battle already won... and he was ready to pick up his sword and scamper right in for his and Jermaine's honor. It was... surprisingly respectable; a word I never thought I'd associate with someone like Shay.

That's where the respect ends, though.

"This feels like a waste of time."

"I enjoy camping", was Dathyn's nonchalant response. I glowered over at him in response.

"That's not what I mean. This match, the titles, signed sealed and delivered in a gold fucking bow. There's a problem..."

"You don't feel you've earned it?"

"I don't care to earn it." Dathyn, never one to be surprised by what I say, watched me thoughtfully as I continued, "I mean... I've said it before. Lately there's been... a lack of giving a fuck, to put it simply, on my part. And it's not because I don't want to continue in my career. I've got a couple years left in me before I flip this company and business off and retire on a warm, isolated beach somewhere."

With another pause, I slowly moved to my feet. Another squish. I cringed and stepped to the side slightly. "I wanna leave a mark. Even if it's just a dent from a warhammer or blood staining the walls. I'm a simple woman, and I like to think I've got simple needs."

"I can satisfy those needs." Judas replied, leaning back slightly on his rock as he finally gets off his phone. He grins toward me in that weird-ass way again. "They are similar to mine, after all. We can both benefit from meeting our individual goals."

"And if my goal is to simply play God, in my own way?" I narrowed my eyes, leaning slightly toward my partner. His smile merely widened as I continued slowly, "It's a filthy goddamn world we live in. Someone has to wipe it clean. Call me the devil with a handywipe. I'll wash away your sins with my own fire and brimstone."

Stepping back then, I let a smirk ease it's way upon my lips. I hadn't felt very comfortable in my... position... in quite a long time. What I was doing, whether that be flying under all radars or keeping to myself, was what had caused my utter boredom as of late. I'd even slithered onto social media to attempt to cure it. But I know... for me, excitement comes in the form of bloodlust; dabbling in sadism and heinous acts. Things had been so... off-beat... lately. I believed that I could bring the rhythm back. As of that moment, there was but one thing plaguing me...

Deafening silence.

Maddening, really. I had to escape it. I wouldn't be reminded of... of what happened... anymore. I had thought I'd been rid of that remorse; that ice cold feeling in my veins. Those wretched memories that clawed at my insides like an animal trying to bleed me out and feast upon whatever's left. It was so... fucking... painful. But... my eyes have long since dried out. My heart blackened and hard like coal. All I needed... was to clear away the sickness left over.

What better medicine than the pain of others?

"What bad luck on Shay's part..." I finally spoke out loud again and Dathyn, who'd been staring into the slowly darkening sky in thought, returned his attention to me. I continued in a familiar wicked tone.

"I'm on edge right now. And the only way to dull that is to keep cutting away at those who stand in front of me."

"With our combined abilities, connections and craving for power and violence... we will certainly be unstoppable. Cutthroat, even." He really needed to work on that smile. I grimaced away from him and shrugged once more, letting that familiar scent enter my senses as the frustrating silence only seemed to shriek louder in my ears. Closing my eyes for but a moment, I eventually let them snap back open, and with that slightly hysterical look suddenly shimmering in them, I locked gazes with my partner and ah... business associate.

"Now then... all that aside... let's talk about a certain... 'talent', shall we?"


...It is said that talent is a dull knife that will cut nothing unless it is wielded with great force...


TBC by Jimmeh-kinz.

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~This has been a V rp, thanx for reading and have a great f*cking day!~