No Chance for Mercy?

Perhaps I've said this before... and perhaps it's a bit obvious... but, growing up? I wasn't like other children. Just like those who're 'similar' to me... there were these hints of... of... of "anti-social behavior". That's what they called it, at least. The teachers always noticed... the only time I talked to other children, I was getting them in trouble. You need to borrow a pencil? You've got to do something for me. Amuse me. Go hit that kid over there. Go tell the nearest adult to "fuck off". I'd watch them get yelled at; watch them get told by their parents about the beating that they'd receive when they got home. It was fun.

Same with the dares... a "double dog dare". Jump off the top of the monkey bars. Do a backflip off the roof of the school. I dare you. What's wrong? Scared? Chicken? What a baby... what a wuss. That... that right there? Ohh, that's alllll that was needed. Kids were... are... stupid. It's not their fault, though. They're raised to be arrogant... to not accept criticism or insults, and instead to adamantly deny them... to the extent of having to prove them wrong. No matter the risks... no matter the consequences... they had to save face. Bruised bodies... broken bones... even so far as death (my my, that was a bit of drama that day...). And why?

Because of simple provocation...

But hey... a challenge must always be accepted. If not, your oh-so-important reputation could very well be tarnished. How could you possibly allow people to know how much of a pussy you are for not stepping up and allowing yourself to be goaded into doing something... that could very well be the death of you? How could you let people think you're not willing to accept certain obstacles in your path, despite knowing that the consequences could... be devastating? After all, you can't allow your status to decline due to this... sticky situation. Your ego certainly won't allow it. And thus... the gauntlet is thrown down. Your agreement... will prove to be a regrettable one.

As there is absolutely no chance... for mercy...

"Heaven is but a smile and good deed away."

These words escaped my ruby colored lips, in a seductive tone that matched the wicked glint in my pale eyes. My fingers traced the elegant craftsmanship in front of me, every incision from a special, dual bladed knife... neat and precise. But also a bit... hectic. Erratic. After all, one mustn't flaunt their art too much. I had to be a bit more humble. My own flair... but quite a bit of ambiguity. It would certainly keep them off my tracks... oh. Maybe I should explain...

I wasn't anywhere specific. Not a fancy hotel, nor a unique monument or building or anything else. There was nothing 'special' about where I was... but rather... what I was doing was what should... capture your attention. You see, something had happened. I'd found someone who... intrigued me. Someone who... who was... an utter sociopath. And no, it wasn't my opponent of the week. Joka had nothing to do with this. I mean he did... oh god, he always did. That fucking clown was the only goddamn thing that plagued my mind recently. But... but this wasn't him. No... Tha Joka? He's no sociopath.

He and everyone else knows goddamn well that he's a psychopath.

"And it's certainly not the same thing, eh... Jenny?"

"Ooo Cera Bear's in a good mood!" Jen Ryette suddenly cried, and I glanced up from my 'work'. The small Asian was cheerfully making her pet lizard 'Nova' dance in front of her, as I worked. With a lifted eyebrow, I returned my heavy gaze to the 'art' below. Crimson oozed over my hands, trickling past each groove of my smooth skin, then dripping from my fingertips. With a sharp intake of breath, as the pungent odor floated upward, I lifted a couple of fingers. There was glue over the skin of them. Fingerprints were a bitch...

"Through faith and kind words, a wondrous afterlife can come to fruition..."

These words flowed from my mouth as though they'd been burned into my subconscious. Slowly moving to my feet, I stared at the wall of the bedroom I was in. A small house... ranch-style. Upper-middle class family... with a 17 year old kid. Parents were loving folks, really. They just... you see, they just didn't understand. I do. They were confused... concerned. What was wrong with their son? So unfeeling... lacking empathy for others. Very calm... very uncaring. Like nothing in the world mattered, but him and his own little world. He didn't see me... rather, walked right by. Not a thought in his mind about who I was or what I was capable of. Because it didn't fucking matter to him...

It would soon enough...

"Psy...cho...paths... differ... from... socio...paths..." I murmured aloud, along with the letters I sloppily wrote down on the wall. The dark red letters dripped down from each corner, and the corner of my lips twitched upward. I could hide my unique handwriting... which was usually neat, simple, but feminine. This? It was crazy. A wild handwriting that didn't express who I was... at all.

"Joka-kins prolly writes like this, yah?" Jen piped up again, placing Nova on her shoulders and hopping up to her feet. She walked over to me, her small bare feet carelessly stepping on the carcass below, the blood and innards squishing between her toes. Poor canine... had no idea what hit it. Stabbed it. Whatever.

"Do you know what the difference between a sociopath and a psychopath is, Jen?" I questioned innocently, studying the words in silence. Ryette had government ties... she always has, for as long as I could remember. I didn't know all the information... but I certainly knew that she wasn't who she pretended to be. Personality-wise, at least. That said, her ability to make sure no security was in the way, that the one or two neighbors in this dreary, outskirts of a town in Minnesota were away, and that there was no evidence to be dragged up... well, it was top-notch. So if she could figure that shit out, I was pretty sure she understood the difference between those two words...

"I thought they were cinnamons?"

Or not.

"You mean synonyms?"

"Sin o' nymphs? Wha?"

"...syno-oh nevermind..." Slapping a palm to my forehead, I dragged the hand down, before sighing and narrowing my eyes. "They aren't the same, either way. You could say... my opponent for Exposure... for VoW's first ppv... is a psychopath."

"Cuz Joka's cray cray in da noggin?"

"It's not just about being fucked up in the head... considering both sociopaths and psychopaths have a bit of... insanity... within them." Frowning in thought, I slowly tapped my blood stained fingers to my lower lip. "Psychopaths have a far more... impulsive, if not batshit crazy... nature. They have trouble coping with the norms of society, and don't really comprehend how to fit into a particular social class. They violate the status quo, ripping apart the very fabric of what we deem 'normalcy'. And they do it while laughing at those who don't."

Jen cocked her head to the side, a slight pout on her small face as she thought about my words. "Sooo... they're nutzo?"

"They're wilder... in every meaning of the word. Hysterical, even." I paused, before licking my lips... that small bit of blood from my fingers touching my tongue. "Thing is... they aren't so good at hiding it. That's why 1/4 of the criminals in jails are counted as psychopaths."

"So whatta 'bout sociopaths?"

"Meticulous... methodical... they can fit into society, they can mold themselves into whatever they need to be. After teaching themselves how, of course."

"Wouldn't that make 'em scared of bein' what they are?"

"Perhaps... or maybe there's a method to their own little taste of madness."

Jen stepped away from the carcass of the dog, stroking her lizard's head and hopping on one foot, then the other. Her antsy movements were a result of basic Jen Ryette confusion. Which happened a lot. It was funny... how one of the most psychopathic people I knew... couldn't comprehend what she was, and what she wasn't. But, to be frank... it didn't really matter what Jen was. Nor anyone else, for that matter... except one. One man. One freak. One... psychopath.

"Joka." The name rolled off my tongue with enough venom to poison the Americas... and half of Canada. Or maybe all of Canada... because... fuck Canadians.

"Joka kin's a sexy jester!"

"He's more like a clown... well, personality wise..."

"Naw, jester! Cuz he makes sovereign biznitches like you laugh! See? Turned that into a comp-"

"Shut up, Jen."

"Well fudge your face too, ya skag..." Ryette stuck her tongue out at me, and I flipped her off, before continuing.

"We were banned from the arena last week, because of our... games... on VoW's shows. Looks like the 'boss' here has a bit tighter of a grip on everyone's leashes. Not that I'm complaining... much." Snickering, I rubbed my hands together, feeling the smooth surface of the glue brush against my skin. "It's been back and forth. Joka humiliated me. Brutalized me. I'm still sore from every fucking thing he's done. The sick fuck... has no idea how much of a match he's met. With psychopathy comes weaknesses... flaws... holes in his very being. Of course, I have them as well. But the thing is? Mine I accept, deal with... improve, to the best of my ability. Perhaps he does the same... but it's certainly not showing."

"Whatcha mean?" My manager mumbled, peering now at the remains of the animal below us in annoyance. Her pet didn't look very impressed with one bit of the situation. But what the fuck does he know? He's a fucking lizard. With a shrug, I glanced at the time, noting it quickly, but still continued...

"Being crazy is boring. Being the typical badass is boring. There are no layers... you get what's on the surface. You hear voices in your head? So do 66.6% of the other competitors in your company (if not more). You're a fan of violence and kicking ass? Congratulations... you're the 99%! Joka... he's predictable. Because his unpredictability is what's predictable. A true... psychopath... in every meaning of the word. No remorse. No mercy. A cold blooded bastard, with a goofy yet crazed side masking most of the malice."

There was a couple seconds of silence, before I finished that thought... "To say I'm not the least bit concerned would be blatant bullshit. To say that Tha Joka isn't a wrecking ball ready to break the fuck out of everyone's wa-"

"HE CAME IN LIKE A WREEECCCKKING BAWWWLLL! HE NEVER HIT SO HARD AND LOWWW! ALL HE WANTED WAS TA KICK YOUR BAWWWWLLLZ! ALL HE EVER DID WAS... KI-I-ICK THEM! HE... KI-I-ICKED THEMMM!"

"....."

"He defo meant ta start a war... he just wanted ya ta let him in! And instead of usin' force... people should just let him kick...." Jen stared dramatically into space as she sang, and I was... uh... rather speechless... considering how I'd been interrupted... "Don't chu ever say, he just walked away... he will always kick you... HE CAME IN LIKE A WRECKIN-OW!"

I whacked the fucking idiot pretty hard across the head, and she nearly fell on her ass. Nova tumbled off her shoulders and skittered away, pausing at the doorway to peer over at us in disgust, before he headed out the back doggy door. Jen stomped her foot in frustration, about to blame me for what had happened, when I put a hand up and demanded that I be allowed to finish. Ryette glowered at me unhappily, but hung her head in defeat as I spoke. "ANYWAY... as I was saying, I want that part of Joka exposed. And I think I want to find a way to do that by utilizing this little battle we have this week. Where better... than Exposure?"

"Aha! I get it... funneh."

"Uh... right." Running my finger along the words I'd written on the wall, now practically dry, I shrugged a shoulder and grinned slightly, with a bit of ice clinging to my voice. "I won't lose to Joka. There'll be no mercy in this match. It will be brutal... the first ever truly violent match in VoW thus far. Weapon of choice? I feel like we already know who'll bring what. So I don't really need to think much about that... as much as I do the fact that, despite what people think... Joka being a psychopath won't always help him, in the long run... and that's what I'll use to my advantage."

"Hmm. What're you then, Cera Bear?" Jen asked curiously, and I paused, my fingertip hovering on the last letter. With a cold laugh, I pulled away and began putting away my 'tools'. I hadn't hurt a person... merely an animal. And it'd certainly never be proven. But my reason was simple: give the next generation a gentle push in the right direction. I could only turn them toward that road... they were the ones who had to put one foot in front of the other, and walk down it. A new age of... of what?

"What am I?"

"Mhm, mhm! I mean, concernin' all this shiz. Aren't ya more socio than psycho? That's it, right? Tis why ya bashed poor Joka-kins bout his craziness cuz you're da opposi-"

"Wrong." I interrupted in a flat tone, and Ryette blinked in bewilderment. Lifting my chin slightly, I let that laid back, arrogant gaze rest upon my face once more. "I'm a new breed of sociopath. More similar to it, but with a bit of psychopathy sprinkled in as well. It goes far beyond the normal, medically defined term. Call it what you will... as Joka will find out at Exposure how it works to my advantage, anyway... I simply prefer the label of... Baddest Bitch. No more, or less, than 'Cera'..."

"Dat's uber inspiring and all... but can we go now? My feet're real hot and sticky and the pretty mess ya made is makin' me want a strawberry smoothie..." Jen whined, and I smacked her upside the head and jabbed a finger in her face.

"We'll go as soon as we finish what we started. We just have to... document... this moment. Two different ways, two different people. You know the first... I assume you've got the number?"

"I got a number, yah..." Jen grinned mischievously, but I thought nothing of it as she continued, "Should I use my phone or da Bad Burr's?"

"Your's. Send the picture to him... with this message..." I murmured, and Jen turned her head to the side as she listened intently, mentally noting my words down. "In order to gain influence, one must allow others to play with them. Not as friends, but as equal opportunists, with eyes on a similar end goal. Let our games intertwine, kid... I double dog dare ya."

There was a hint of amusement in my voice at the end of the message, and Jen locked eyes with me, before we suddenly simultaneously smirked. With a nod of understanding, Ryette and I knew the next move to take. We both lifted our arms, with my manager holding up her cellphone, and me holding up an older Polaroid camera. Found it in the family's basement. Interesting contraption... the photo almost instantly slides right out. And it did, after I snapped the picture. A few seconds passed, it came out, and I waved it around a bit, then held it up.

As Ryette sent the message and her photo off to the recipient I'd told her about, I grabbed a nearby black marker, making sure to barely touch it, and only with those specific fingertips that were coated with the glue, before I scribbled down a simple message on the bottom of the photograph. It was left there, on his desk, the family pet... well, what was left of it... on his floor... and I walked out, leaving not a trace behind... except for that simple note...

'You're gonna go far, kid. So leave no chance of mercy; only justice, exposed.'

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