Come on now, who do you think you are? Bless your soul, You really think you're in control? Well, I think you're crazy. Just like me. Imogen Trinity Maddox " T r i x "
twenty-two | chaotic evil | underground syndicate leader professional sadist and manipulator
[ Nights like these were often bitter cold. The sticky heat from the rat’s warm blood dribbled through his fingers and made him shudder at the blatant difference in temperature. He wiped the blood away on his pants nonchalantly, uncaring of the red that soaked and stained its fraying grey fabric. He’d have to get new ones soon, if not for his comfort, than for his disguise. Jason Lakha could have no identifiable uniform, it was what made him so deathly.When one could recognize the Dogs from their howling and tattered clothes, and a Civvy for his dark red coat, Jason shed his skins daily. Everything he had to offer- his strength, his service, and attention, now, was for Trix. Though he did adore his little cannibal kinsfolk, or rather fear their wrath should he ever leave their sides, they came second to Trix, who came second to none. She was the most important thing in his world.
Jason wrung his hands together, which was a gesture really quite unnatural of the wicked child’s disposition. It exemplified discomposure or distress, and Jason felt those emotions strongly. He feared those, too. Trix didn’t hate him for the rat, no, of course not, and yet he needed to be useful. If he wasn’t being useful, he was being a burden. If he wasn’t being useful.. he was being a burden. The mantra made sense. Jason knew his place, and it was anywhere she wanted him to go- be that beneath her boot, by her side, or pressed to the muzzle of a Clout rifle. If he wasn’t being useful, he was being a burden, and Jason knew what happened to the cannibals who became burdens. They followed him because he was ruthless, and they worshipped his numbness. Although Trix wasn’t like them, but the possibility that she could be plagued him like a poison.
The casual tone in her voice reassured Jason, and he relaxed slightly. He’d done something and she approved of him, and he always loved it when she did. Jason lifted his chin, letting the rush of pride fill his chest. He held himself higher and let his arms drop to his sides. ] Yeah, of course I remember your lessons. They’re important. [ Her next words made him stand that much taller. ]
[ At the young man’s words a pleasant smile spread onto her lips. It was kind and reassuring. Pleased. She patted a hand to Jason’s shoulder and flicked her eyes down the alleyway, indicating that as the way she wanted to head down. She began to saunter her way down the rough concrete of the alley and just expected Jason to fall into step beside her. He should know by now not to trail behind her like a common Civvy. He was a Syndicate and a prided one at that. He should walk at her side.
Her booted toes clipped off the ground with a quiet but rhythmic tap that echoed in the otherwise stifled air. At this point in time Trix was not trying to conceal her presence. To have her footfalls ring out in a radius as a warning around the two was mandatory for her current mood. She either wanted to ward off approaching blights or work by survival of the fittest. She was the fittest and anyone stupid to challenge that would subsequently be removed from the equation. ]
What kinda Smut do we fancy goin’ for at the moment, doll face?
[ As she queried she tilted her head to the side and she turned her eyes to look at the blonde lad. A few strands of her brunette hair dropped over her eyes and with a delicate hand she flicked them back out of the way. The Syndicate leader liked to ask what her members wanted to do sometimes, especially when any of the options would result in being useful. It made them feel important, like their opinions mattered. They reached the end of that alleyway where it met a split of another. There she stopped, awaiting his decision. ]
i. extreme - valora | ii. whatever you like - anya marina | iii. all the things she said - t.a.t.u. | iv. falling to pieces - sia | v. closer - tegan and sara | vi. counting bodies like sheep - a perfect circle | vii. kryptonite - 3 doors down | viii. sinners - lauren aquilina | ix. heart by heart - demi lovato | x. levitate - hollywood undead | xi. only love can hurt like this - paloma faith | xii. make me wanna die - the pretty reckless | xiii. pieces - red | xiv. clarity - zedd | xv. you are the one - canterbury | xvi. every time it rains - charlotte martin | xvii. all i need - within temptation |
[ Trix continued to baffle him. She was a strong, beautiful, violent creature. She was dangerous, and one of the few people he was well aware could slit his throat without effort. Unlike the rest of those elite few, Trix would be the only one amongst them who Jason wouldn’t bite back. He had all of the loyalty of a hound for Trix, and no better than the Flea Bags who leaped through the roofs like cowards. Jason could have done that if he saw fit. Anyone could, but why would you? Hiding, was all they did. All they ever did. The Syndicate was the home of the brave bloody souls, of the men hardened by the thickness of their scar tissue. The Syndicate was his home, and there was very little he wouldn’t do for his leader.
Fear should have paralyzed him. This was the animal who could have murdered him in the simple act of neglect when she first met him. So much depended on this malevolent beast and on the existence of her breath and on the beat of her wicked heart. Without her, Jason would have surely perished from grief. Her delicate pet- the demon she’d built from her blood and bone- would thrive. The cannibal boy with the red lips and brown eyes would climb from his throat and out of his mouth. The only thing that Jason feared in the entirety of The Fringe was the chance of harm that threatened to come to his leader.
Trix continued to baffle him. She was a strong, beautiful, violent creature. She was dangerous, and one of the few people he was well aware could slit his throat without effort. Unlike the rest of those elite few, Trix would be the only one amongst them who Jason wouldn’t bite back. He had all of the loyalty of a hound for Trix, and no better than the Flea Bags who leaped through the roofs like cowards. Jason could have done that if he saw fit. Anyone could, but why would you? Hiding, was all they did. All they ever did. The Syndicate was the home of the brave bloody souls, of the men hardened by the thickness of their scar tissue. The Syndicate was his home, and there was very little he wouldn’t do for his leader.
Fear should have paralyzed him. This was the animal who could have murdered him in the simple act of neglect when she first met him. So much depended on this malevolent beast and on the existence of her breath and on the beat of her wicked heart. Without her, Jason would have surely perished from grief. Her delicate pet- the demon she’d built from her blood and bone- would thrive. The cannibal boy with the red lips and brown eyes would climb from his throat and out of his mouth. The only thing that Jason feared in the entirety of The Fringe was the chance of harm that threatened to come to his leader.
She stepped towards him and Jason reciprocated, halving the distance between them with several long strides. Wind whistled in his ear, but the streets were otherwise silent. He met her eyes curiously and with an air of expectation. He would hunt for her, share his food with her, share his gifts with her. A rush of panic made him stiffen when she would not meet his eyes entirely. Had he done something wrong? Jason wondered suddenly if she would hurt him if he had. He wasn’t an altogether stranger to pain. Relief flooded his systems at the realization that her gaze was fixed not on his ineptitude, but on the vermin parading around on his shoulder. Jason took the foul thing in his hand, and was careful to clamp its maw shut with his hands. He stared at Trix when he slammed it into the brick walls with a huff of frustration. He grated its body against the rough stones, reveling in the feeling of blood gushing through his fingers and down the stony wall, and watched Trix while he did. The rat was bothering her, that much was certain. Jason dropped it down onto the ground. The elements would dispose of it now. ]
There’s nothing open about this air, Mum. It’s dirty here, you taught me that. The training never stops either. You taught me that too.
[ The vermin on Jason’s shoulder was distracting to say the least. Trix was a perfectionist. Everything had to be just right and the rat was not. Even in the Fringe where filth and grime invaded the very air that they breathed, Trix valued cleanliness. She cleaned her knives, clothes, boots, herself as regularly as possible and not to do it made her skin crawl. Being a gang leader had its perks when it came to that sort of thing. She had the resources to be able to purchase soap for herself from the market and various contacts. She even had enough to distribute it through the lower ranks.
So it understandable why such a creature as a rat can cause her to be so repulsed. She watched as the realisation sprinkled itself across her little project’s features, flickering in his eyes. As he took the creature in his hand Trix fixed her eyes onto him not the animal. Now she would study him. The rat was of insignificance.
From the corner of her eye she could see the rat being slammed into the brick wall of the alleyway. Its tiny body crumpled under the force of Jason’s heavy, forceful hand. She could imagine its beady eyes bulging in its eye sockets and its jaw being caught on the rough brick as he scraped it into it, releasing its blood and guts like a gruesome graphiti. However, she could only imagine this for her gaze was focused onto the blonde guy, watching the thoughts that passed over his countenance and the shadow of destruction swamping his eyes. He was brutal, cold blooded and heartless when it came to a kill. The creature was insignificant to Jason and Trix and that was evidenced in the lack of emotion or care for it. A slither of a smile curled at her lips. She felt pride for Jason, for how strong he was and the precision he utilised. ]
It always pleases me when someone remembers my lessons, sweetie. You’re right, there’s somethin’ to be learnt from everythin’. Ain’t no one knowin’ everythin’ an’ it’s our job to discover it. I was walkin’, honey, maybe goin’ to find a Smut. Would you like to join me, sugar?
[ Night washed over the streets like a film of black. The tendrils of darkness spread through the streets, pinching light from the gaps in the walls and the cracks that made up the pavement. Jason didn’t have to struggle to see through it all. This was his home. Here, where the streets where so often painted in blood that they developed red stains, and where bastards bought the filthy whores in return for strips of leather used for soup bases. Here was Jason’s home. He knew every dip in the sidewalk, every jagged tooth of every broken window. When Jason listened, he heard the scuttle of mice and the distance cries that so many had gone through the trouble of trying to filter out lest they go insane from the sound. It was bound to happen one day. Why not embrace the madness now?
The rat’s whiskers brushed against his cheek and lips, tickling his mouth. Jason rose a hand curiously. The little creature made a small sort of sound in his ear and nipped his fingertips to taste for something like food. Foolish little thing. Jason pulled away, numb and expressionless. There was nothing for it here.
Something stirred in the darkness and Jason stiffened. It was difficult to see, like discerning movement amid a grainy television static, but although he hunted in the streets, Jason fed underground. Darkness was as much a part of him as his limbs. With a leisure yawn, he turned to watch the shadow through his peripheral vision and shook his arm to let the hilt of his rusted blade fall into his palm from the inside of his sleeve. Jason passed the movement off as a nervous tick, and shook his leg next to remain inconspicuous.
His blade was light in his hand, and sent a spark up his arm that made his fingers twitch with a fervid anticipation. The familiarity of it was all too entrancing and suddenly Jason yearned to hunt. He yearned to bring it slicing through the air like a lithe scythe and to drag it through his meal’s chest. Jason would do it quickly; grazing down the sternum and slicing shallowly enough for their entrails to suffer minimal damage. Jason wouldn’t laugh crazed when he pulled those out and knotted them around his meal’s neck. How he longed to kill.
The movement returned suddenly, and this time Jason spun on his heel to face the stranger. He let out a breathy exhalation when he recognized her. ] No, Mum, just a rat. What’re you doing topside?
[ Even when unarmed to the eye, not a weapon clutched in her palm, Trix didn’t feel vulnerable when standing in the streets of the Fringe. She commanded them as she commanded her gang and her own movements; with talented precision. The brunette could defend herself and kill a man just as easily with her bare hands as she could with a knife or Tonfa. She wasn’t the strongest of people and compared to the body weight of a fully grown man she was insignificant. But she was quick. She knew her angles and the pressure points of the human body. She didn’t need brute force to bring a man to his knees.
Despite this she could feel her knives ever aching for blood as they slept concealed in her boots. She was aware of the throwing knives strapped around her torso, the Tonfas at her hip and the blades clasped to her forearms. She knew of the steal hidden in her boots and in her belt. The handgun pulsed at her thigh. They were not needed though and neither were her fists. It was her pet, her project, which stood before her, not a feral civvy or a wild wolf.
Trix sauntered towards the guy, a smirk donned on her features, as she approached him. She halted at an acceptable talking distance and eyed her star pupil. It was just the two of them in the alleyway. Not a breath could be heard of any imposters. Part of her wanted there to be, they could have some fun with that or at least Jason would. She liked to study people at work. They revealed so much of themselves in the spur of the moment and they didn’t even know they did it. One of her favourites to observe was Sephy. That kid was bizarre and uniquely playful. She got so close up and personal it was like she tried to become the flesh she chewed on. It was like she dominated it. If the girl was older Trix would say it was almost sexual the way she did it. Maybe it was.
A hint of amusement twitched at the very corner of Trix’s lips when Jason completely missed what she’d said and commented on it just being a rat. Of course it was a rat; she could see that with her very own eyes. Speaking of which, her gaze drifted between the vermin and the blonde man in front of her. The animal was surely ridden with disease and sickness. One bite of it could infect a blood stream. Trix artfully smoothed out her facial features to stop her nose from scrunching up in mild disgust. ]
Let’s call this a leisurely stroll in the open air, huh, honey? I wanted a rest from trainin’. Everyone needs to stop at some point for jus’ a little while.
After a night in fight club, everything in the real world gets the volume turned down.
Nothing can piss you off.
Your word is law, and if other people break that law or question you, even that doesn't piss you off.
The Underground Syndicate are building traditions. The Wolf Pack has them, why can’t they? Fight Club is a plot point dedicated to the Syndicate alone in which the characters will have structured fights in the style of an interaction/encounter. This is designed to be fun RPing whilst also developing the character and the relations with other characters. It will also build a stronger feel for what Syndicate life is like.
Fight club is explained by Trix Maddox herself below the cut and those who will be fighting first are: Ethan Wallace and Jason Lakha. I will message you two separately with extra details on how this will work.
Excited chatter buzzed through the Syndicate tunnels and the rapping of boots on concrete echoed off the curved walls and low ceilings. The air was chilled and nipping but the bodies of the gang members were warm and sticky with sweat. They had been running, causing a bustle as they prepared themselves for whatever was to come. News travelled quickly in the underground and the word was that their esteemed leader Trix had something in store for them and that in itself was enough to arouse an eager soul.
It wasn’t unheard of for Trix to call a gathering of the whole gang but it always meant that something big was coming. Sometimes it meant a party or celebration, other times it meant a huge mission was underway. In the past it had meant war on the Blood Bond gang. What was in store no one but Trix herself knew and to find out they had but one choice: to gather.
At the core of the underground, right at the heart of the city, Trix stood. Her gang gathered around her, filing in and standing shoulder to shoulder, their eyes fixed on her with a wire cord. She wore her classic underground get up mixed with her training wear: black steel cap boots, black jeans, black vest top, fingerless training gloves and straps around her elbows and knees to protect them from impact. Her blue eyes scanned through the crowd as they continued to gather and a smirk gradually grew upon her features. Her babies were going to enjoy this.
The last of the Syndicate joined the gathered and Trix slowly raised a fist into the air above her head. She turned on the spot, making eye contact with as many as possible. After a few seconds the tunnels hushed until they fell into a silence eerie to any that weren’t the Syndicate. To them it was a form of stealth; it was natural. The brunette withdrew her hand and began strolling around the rim of the circle created by the people focused on her, her boots tapped quietly on the ground. She spoke, lifting her voice for all to hear.
“This ain’t just any old gatherin’, my darlin’s. This is a gatherin’ to go down in the record books an’ to be remembered through your life to your dyin’ days. We’re gonna start something today, right in this second and you’re all gonna to be part of it. Every single one of you are gonna make a tradition with me. Do you know what that tradition is?” She stopped and asked of a young girl with scruffy blonde bunches tied at either side of her head. The kid just eagerly shook her head up at the tall woman, excitement brimming at her eyes and displaying in her dimpled cheeks. Trix affectionately patted the girl on the head and smiled to her before continuing on, still catching eyes with as many people as humanly possible. “We’re gonna have a fight club, boys and girls. Fight club ain’t about winnin’ or losin’ a stoush. It ain’t about glory an’ fancy taunts. This ain’t a place for jaunts or lastin’ disagreements. It’s about becomin’ chiselled an’ carved. Not out of muscle – that’s what trainin’s for – but in your mentality. What happens in fight club stays there an’ what happens out of it don’t come nowhere into it. In fight club everyone’s equal. I don’t give a fuck if you’re a scout or a missionary or a cook or a cleaner – everyone fights everyone.”
Trix ceased in her strolling and she nodded to herself, letting her words settle in the air and embed themselves into everyone’s skulls. She couldn’t feel the anticipation building in the room and she couldn’t hold her own excitement in any longer. A grin broke out on her features and she continued on with the rules.
“The fight ends when the fighters call it, when a fighter taps out, when a fighter can’t fight no more, or when I call it. No one interferes with a fight. If you do, you fight me. Only encouragement shouted, no hecklin’. If you heckle, you fight me. Only those scheduled to fight, fight. Anyone tries to mess with that schedule, you fight me. You get the idea, lovelies. Over there,” Mummy Syndicate pointed her fingerless gloved hand at a large chalkboard that had a series of names scrawled on it in her handwriting, “Is the stousher board. You’re name’ll be next to someone else’s. That means you fight ‘em this month. Next month the names’ll change. Everyone fights everyone. This ain’t about bein’ strong and quick and bein’ the best fighter. This is about mentality. This is about bein’ the best that YOU can be. I think we can do this, darlin’s. Let’s get started.”
Trix punched her fist into the air, a grin on her face, and the gathered called out in hoots and eager whistles. Over the ruckus she shouted out the first names from the list and waited for them to come forward.
A totally accurate playlist for the Ice Queen, Snake Queen, Queen Creeper that is Trix Maddox of the Syndicate.
Bow down, bitches, your ruler has arrived.
i. oops! . . i did it again - britney spears | ii. i don’t give a fuck - boss | iii. poker face - lady gaga | iv. s&m - rihanna | v. maneater - nelly furtado | vi. shut up - black eyes peas | vii. sexy and i know it - lmfao | viii. the bad touch - the bloodhound gang | ix. swagger jagger - cher lloyd | x. how to be a heart breaker - marina and the diamonds | xi. run the world (girls) - beyonce | xii. gold digger - kayne west | xiii. can’t hold us down - christina aguilera | xiv. clique - kayne west | xv. problem - ariana grande | xvi. u can’t touch this - m.c. hammer |
Watching Trix’s features as she spoke didn’t really do much in the way of allowing the Gypsy to see what was going through her friends mind. Sure, when she’d seen the eyebrows start to raise Lexi could see that the other woman was trying to encourage her to continue speaking but then the masks went up, blocking virtually everything from Lexi’s eager eyes. It wasn’t all that surprising, really. Everybody, everything used masks in the fringe, they were used almost as a survival mechanism, something that could take away the pain that people truly felt; conceal don’t feel.
It was as if people not seeing the true emotions of others gave people some form of power over others and she knew how addicting such a power could be. She knew how addicting and strong utilising the power of fear over others was almost as much as a clown knew how much their masks failed to bring humour, instead only bringing nightmares. It was both baffling and amusing to the young Gypsy that she could be so aptly compared to such a monstrosity in the world despite the completely difference circumstances they found themselves in and the ways they went about inflicting fear.
Seeing Trix begin to slowly walk forwards both terrified and pleased Lexi. She saw it as a good sign, as a sign that she was forgiven for how pathetic she’d been, but she didn’t want that. She wanted to be berated for being an idiot, for letting her emotions get the better of her. She wanted to be treated like everybody else by Trix. She wanted it to be easier to not be so easily hurt – so easily destroyed – by the other woman. She wanted to be able to understand everything that floated through her mind about the other woman without all the confusion which currently came with it. She wanted to understand but she knew that being treated differently, like she was special for some reason, wouldn’t allow that to happen.
Whilst she wanted that from her friend, she didn’t want it at the same time. She liked being treated differently. It reminded her of everything that she’d gone through with the woman who was her only friend. It reminded her just how much higher above everybody else she was that she got treated in such a way by someone who had such high standards.
Although she partly liked being treated differently by Trix, the concern that spread across the woman’s eyes like wildfire partly infuriated Lexi. Everything since she’d been rejected from the woman seemed to be different. The things that before would’ve comforted her now grated on her nerves. The concern that she could easily distinguish in the woman’s eyes only made Lexi feel like the other didn’t believe in her enough, like the other woman thought her too weak to truly get through everything alone.
Honestly, it was true. She couldn’t get through it alone and she hated herself for being so weak. She hated Trix for making her so dependent on somebody else.
Taking a deep breath as she heard the words that passed Trix’s lips as quietly as the wind blew around outside the warehouse, Lexi attempted to compose herself before answering. She didn’t want to answer but she knew she had to. She knew that those words would be the next ones to come from the older woman but that didn’t mean that she was prepared to answer them. No, if anything, she was the complete opposite. How did she answer that she understood virtually nothing that went through her head? How did she explain that any thoughts she had about Trix only served to confuse her?
How could she ever start to understand – let alone explain to the woman – that what she was feeling towards Trix was something more than what standard friends felt for each other?
“I don’t understand anything. Everything in my head feels like a fucking jumble of this thought and that. I can’t fucking think straight and I hate it.” As she spoke Lexi could feel tears trying to rip themselves from her ducts but she refused to let them free. She’d not cried since she was a Clout prisoner back as a kid, she wasn’t about to start again then.
Feeling the delicate dabbing of a cloth against the wound on her forehead was soothing for the Gypsy Queen. She enjoyed having somebody caring for her about so much that they worried about her when injured. Sure, she hated the special attention she got from Trix, she hated the confusion it caused inside her, but at that moment it was nice to have such a thing focussed entirely on her, focussed on helping her get back to a semi-healed state. As the thought crossed her mind, Lexi gave a small thankful smile to the other woman, not feeling comfortable enough to verbalise such a thing in that moment.
Hearing the words that came from her friend’s mouth after finishing cleaning her up caused a small snort of laughter to escape Lexi’s lips. The thought of being ‘good as new’ in an area such as the fringe was amusing for the woman. She knew that it was impossible for anybody, let alone her, to be ‘good as new’ when living in such conditions with the haunting childhood that constantly lingered at the forefront of her memory.
“You know better than I do that I’m not good as new. I never will be. You know that nobody here can ever be ‘good as new’. We’re the fuckups of society dumped in a city and forgotten about. Nothing about that is ‘good as new’.” As she spoke, a small bittersweet smile twitched up the corners of her lips, showing the other woman that she meant no harm in what she’d said.
In a world filled with suffering and oppression it shouldn’t be surprising that confusion was rooted into every kind or pleasant act, anything that didn’t have a directly negative effect. But still it was confusing and still it was difficult to understand. When you get so used to something its counterpart becomes so alien to you that it scares you. Positivity scares you. It terrifies you. There must be a catch, a loop hole of some sort, a way out, a double bluff. Nothing could be viewed at face value. Even if you trust someone completely it can take away your understanding. Maybe even your understanding of why you trust them, why you would do anything for them. There was no way to understand that. No book you could read or class you could take. It was just unfathomable and it would stay like that.
That’s what Trix felt as she bit down on her lower lip and studied her friend as she finished her explanation. It wasn’t so much an explanation as a rambling of what escaped her comprehension. Those topics being, as put so eloquently by the Gypsy Queen herself: everything. Trix knew that feeling all too well when stress kept her awake at night and she ran circles in her own mind, never able to find a beginning or an end. In her own feelings Trix had cracked what it was that was plaguing Lexi but she was either oblivious to it or didn’t dare to let herself think that Lexi could feel the same way.
Against her mind telling her not to, Trix took Lexi’s hand and gripped it between both of hers, her fingers wrapping tightly around the other’s. She did so to focus the other woman onto her and only her, but she also did so just because she wanted to. Sometimes she just couldn’t help herself and did what she wanted because she could; sometimes even when she couldn’t or shouldn’t she would do it anyway. With the heat of Lexi’s hand passing into her palms, Trix locked her intense eyes onto her companion’s, her features remaining controlled apart from the shimmer of concern around the edges of her blue gaze.
“That’s okay, though, honey. No one understands everythin’. Like me, I don’t understand a hell of a lot and it’s fuckin’ confusing,” she paused for a moment, her eyes scanning over Lexi’s expressive features. She then took a breath and nodded slightly before resuming in her calming, soothing tone of voice, “But I do understand that you can do this and keep on goin’ on because you’re a fighter, sweet baby, an’ that’s what you do. An’ I understand that those Gypsies of yours fight an’ cut each other up but they’re still a gang because you lead ‘em an’ they see somethin’ in you else they wouldn’t bother. Cut throats don’t bother unless they got somethin’ worth followin’, baby girl. An’ I understand that we can get though this together, whatever this is, because that’s what we do, Lexi. What we’ve always done.”
Her eyebrows pulled together causing a dainty furrow to form on her brow as she spoke and the intensity in her gaze softened fractionally as she relaxed. Trix was aware of her relaxation but she wouldn’t let it slip completely. The focus wasn’t on her at that moment in time and she would keep it that way for as long as humanly possible. That way she was less likely to fuck things up again. She kept a firm grip on the chains holding her wall up and she’d be damned if she let them drop again.
Trix kept her fingers wrapped around Lexi’s even after she’d spoken. Where one of Lexi’s digits was being held against the inside of Trix’s hand she could feel her faint pulse beating in its tip. It was rhythmic and repetitive. It was comforting. It was like a drum thumping faintly off in the distance. So constant that it faded into other background noise but continued to diligently do its job and beat away even if it was under appreciated. It held the orchestra together and kept the chorus singing but it remained unnoticed by the crowds. It wasn’t unnoticed by Trix and it certainly wasn’t under appreciated.
At Lexi’s mini rant and then bitter sweet smile, a humoured smile of her own crowned itself upon Trix’s lips. Trust Lexi to turn it into a mini rant. Only she had the ability and the sheer will to manage that. That’s what amused the Syndicate leader more than the topic because that wasn’t funny. She tilted her head to the side, a few strands of her hair falling across her face as she did so, and she let her amusement spread across her features and into her eyes.
“Well, sugar, maybe you’re new enough... refurbished, even.” One of her eyebrows quirked up playfully, ridding her brow of its previous furrow.
White picket fence, the typical picture
Think you should know that's not what I'm into
I'm not an ordinary girl, got your scent and
I'm gonna follow it
All of the girls think I'm a bit psycho
Maybe I am but that's the way I roll
And when I gotcha watch the whole world know
I am truly original
Don't you think you are a little extreme?
Don't you think you are a little extreme?
Maybe, but then again this life is short
You are exactly what I'm looking for
You are the key that opens up the door
I'll take anything from you
I'd long to love you
[ Nothing was wrong with Jason Lakha. He was a good, diligent child who did as he was told and acted as he knew. When his mothers had told him to burn the garbage, he did. When they’d asked him to remove their stains, he complied, and would have scrubbed with his fingers until they bled and the little white nubs of his bones peeked out.. if it was their desire, of course. Nobody would have dared wonder if he should hesitate to kill for them. He had, again and again, and tortured for them, and done such horrible, horrible things- just for them. Now that they were dead, Jason didn’t long for their presence. He never was a sniveling child. They taught him, that was all. Jason did the rest.
Everything was as it should have been. Order didn’t exist in this sort of place, and so Jason accepted the familiarity of chaos happily. He loved disorder. It delighted him. The Flea Bags and the Migrants and the Civvies were all so hilarious to him. Jason liked watching people die. Walking through the Topside brought stories to tell that made him laugh. It made dear Sephy laugh sometimes, too, and he loved making her do that. People fought and killed in such simple ways, where was the hysteria, where was the pleasure? They killed out of fear, which made them so inhuman. How sardonic. Only humans killed for fun.
Jason didn’t feel like killing tonight, though. Even that had lost its charm. He was sure that he could have enjoyed it, was positive of it, but even artists tired of painting some days. Instead, he’d wander, aimlessly, lost in his own mind, which was an awfully large place to lose oneself in. He felt the coolness of bricks against one of his hands and the firmness of a strip of meat he’d dried himself in the other. Jason chewed it quietly, calmly. The bump of his blade against his thigh each time he took a step encouraged him forwards and to lift his chin all the much higher. Jason swallowed the remaining morsel and wiped his hand on his pants, then, he started to whistle.
It was such a eerie jovial tune, too. Like a circus song, or the sort of tune dolls would sing should they ever find their voices. Jason felt a sudden weight on his shoulder and something tickling his cheek. He stiffened slightly, then turned his head. Oh, that was interesting. Jason smiled. ] Where did you come from?
[ So much to do and so little time in the day to do it. The Syndicate leader had been up before the crack of dawn, skipping breakfast, and down in the gang’s training tunnel for a handful of hours. People had come in and out having the occasional stoush or just to use the space for a few push ups. Trix had handed the grounding to a few but for the most part she had been breaking a sweat herself. She was obsessive about it and had been for more than half her life. She trained so often and regularly that the next day’s fading burn was just a way of life.
Following her training she’d then cooled down and gone back to paw over her desk for a few long, hours but to Trix the time had flown by. She’d looked over maps and the city territories. She’d consulted with her notes on the various gangs around but namely the Wolf Pack – they were her next big mission – and she had committed new ideas to paper. There were few people in the Fringe that could read and write and she was thankful for being one of them. It was her father who had taught her, she remembered it well. Her older sister Cynthia had originally started to lay the ground work of it but it was soon discovered she had little patience and so her father had taken over, Cynthia instead helping their mother organise the stocks.
Trix had always lived inside a well oiled and functioning machine. The Maddox family had been diligent and organised in how they had run their trading business. It was how they had become so successful. That trait was engraved deep into Trix’s bones in how she ran the Syndicate and played her game. However, hers wasn’t just finely tuned and well run; hers was an organised chaos.
After spending many an hour at her makeshift desk, the Ice Queen had ventured topside to prowl the streets for her own pleasure. Later she may drop by some of her Smuts to see how they were getting on. The Syndicate leader liked to be kept busy. All in a day’s work.
The fresh air of topside breezed down the streets and carried sound, cradling it in her arms but not soothing it to be silenced, to Trix’s eager ears as she approached the end of her side alley. There was a mumble of a voice. She stopped at the corner, selected a shadow her size and peered round the bend. There was a guy up ahead and she watched him for a few moments before recognising him despite the distance. A smirk pulling onto the woman’s lips, she freely left the shadow and began sauntering down towards her little project. ]
[ With her arms crossed over her chest and feet glued to the ground, Adeline’s features turned from angry and defiant to a confused one. Twisted. Everyone was out of their minds, sometimes she was unable to understand the people of the Fringe and their actions. The woman before her wasn’t an exception. Instead of letting her guard down, Adeline couldn’t help but feel wary of her. She could be playing games, deadly games that could end her life. She rarely witnessed people smile, so it was foreign to her. Scary, even. But she didn’t move back, she stayed right in her place, as delusional as that was.
Some people would think she had a death wish, getting into so much trouble. But she just happened to be in the wrong places at the wrong times. She was unlucky or maybe lucky as well, not everyone got off threatening situations as easily as she did. It was just a matter of time, for her luck to run out.
With a gulp, she stared straight into the woman’s eyes. She felt odd doing so, since it could come across as being threatening but that’s the least the wanted to do. She just wanted to figure her out and uncover why she was being so nice to her after threatening her. ] What games are you playing at? That isn’t caring, not at all..
[ The girl stared straight into Trix’s eyes and at that a smile deepened on Trix’s features. It wasn’t threatening – not to the likes of the Syndicate leader from such a feeble girl – but it certainly was enlightening. Adolescents were often rash in their actions and uncertain of how to read emotions or even portray them. It was cute really, how they were so inept. Trix held the eye contact comfortably with her own icy one so cold it could send shivers scraping down a spine. ]
No games, honey. It’s a lesson. If you act like the underdog and roll over, the big boys an’ girls will treat you like one an’ take advantage.
[ While she spoke in her calm, collected tone, Trix kept her gaze focused on the teenager and she moved to lean against the wall near the dented pipe she had wacked not that long ago. She lifted one foot up to press the soul of the boot flat against the wall at her back and she had her Tonfas down at either side of her, held vertical to the wall. The wall was cold on her leather jacket and she could feel it seeping through her clothing to settle against her skin. It was refreshing. Rejuvenating. ]
But, sweet cheeks, if you act like you’re a threat then less bastards are gonna pick on you. You become your own advantage. The next step’s learnin’ who’s actin’ an’ who aint.
[ She lifted a knowing brow at the girl to re-enforce her point. Whether the girl would take the reasoning, Trix couldn’t be certain. In reality all of what she spoke she was coming up on the spot with, even if it came across as rehearsed and truthful. The lesson in itself was true and full of useful tips but it wasn’t what Trix had originally set out to do. She had been pissed off and the girl had been in her way. That was the real bottom line. However, the teen couldn’t know that for certain and Trix would play that to her benefit. ]
[ If there was one thing Teddy knew that she could do, it was to get inside a person’s mind. She could wiggle herself insidethere, curl up and make that place unliveable. The idea that her voice lingered in the mind of another gave her strength, knowing that she had irritate a person enough to drive them to want to attack her? That was downright fun. The Wolfpack were generally so laid back that getting into fights aroused nothing but a yawn from even the most skittish of members, perhaps a sarcastic comment or two. Teddy was far from skittish.
As she walked, she floated, turning around and around the girl, ethereal, celestial. She barely made a sound and moved so smoothly it was as though she were floating. Matching her grin, something of a laugh left Teddy’s full lips, bouncing happily into the alley and floating up, up, up — far away from the confrontation down below. Many people, she knew, didn’t particularly like the Wolfpack and Teddy was a member that had made something of a reputation for herself from slaughtering people in the streets to sleeping with just about anyone she felt she wanted to. She had been such an unlovable child, white and ratty — but she had become an incredibly unlovable woman.
Watching as the woman made such a show of putting her weapons away, Teddy rolled her eyes to the heavens and back before matching her gaze once more, expression bored and calm but completely expecting the worst. She always did this; she pushed and pushed until the other snapped and attacked and the ghostly girl found herself having to talk her away out of yet another situation. It was a cheap sort of thrill for Teddy, taking on the residents of the Fringe and making enemies out of most anyone she stumbled upon. She rarely listened to their bullshit, their rattling on and on about how much of a killer they were. Actions spoke louder than words to Teddy and whilst she had a quick mouth, she had even quicker feet.
Soon enough, the woman had proved herself, pushing Teddy hard against the wall and immediately, she felt the pressure of two blades pressed against her body. One on her stomach, the other on her throat. Impressed, the wolf quickly caught her breath having been somewhat winded by the force of the wall and pulled her hands up in a gentle applause, a grin spreading over her pretty features. A gentle chuckle passed her lips as the woman threatened her, having heard it all before she just let her head fall back against the wall and allowed her to rattle on. Once finished, she pulled her eyes back into focus and raised her eyebrows at the girl. ] "You done?" [ She winked at her, absently drawing a circle in the dirt beneath her toe. ]
"Well first of all, ouch. Was the neck necessary? Honestly love, of all places. Secondly, I’m sure I’ll be just as cocky with or without a scar, I wouldn’t jump to any conclusions. Thirdly, now you’re calling me beautiful? Honestly I’m flattered but I have to say I prefer men." [ Smiling, eyes blank, she barely moved in the dimness of the alley. She knew that she was pushing her luck as she always did, her tongue sharper even than the blade pressing hard against her throat. But Teddy couldn’t find it in herself to care, perhaps one day she would but for now, death was simply a possibility she visited every single day. ] "Now tell me, lovey, are you going to do something or do I have to stand here and listen to another bloody speech?"
[ Humour leaked into Trix’s smile as the girl spoke. It’s a shame really. If the blonde had been on her side she would have probably liked her. It was a shame for the girl, not for Trix; she got to have fun either way. It seemed to be a trait of the Dogs to have an arrogant, self-proclaimed confidence about them. Pyro certainly had it and it had clearly been bred into his pups. Pups were fragile things that learnt from their mothers. They suckle and they suckle and that’s all they know until they’re thrown into the big wide world and even then all they want to do is suckle on the teat of their mother. But once a pup has been weaned off its milk there is no going back.
This one had been weaned off too soon. Trix’s harsh eyes glanced scrutinising up and down the teenager as point number three drained from her mouth. When her gaze focused back up to the other’s, amusement presided on her features. She casually rocked the knife at the girl’s throat as she spoke, freeing more trails of blood to roll down her neck in narrow streams. ]
Don’t flatter yourself, honey, I’d call an old hag beautiful just for irony. Besides... I prefer my women long legged and fucking hot. Not short and, well, puttin’ it straight, darlin’, stumpy.
[ Trix liked to play with her toys whether from a distance or up close and personal, she would play. She liked to lead them into saying what she wanted them to, she liked to dominate and pick them apart piece by piece. It was a bit of ‘an eye for an eye’, you see. She had been ground down and flattened by the Fringe – as had Lexi. But she had been reborn from her own and her family’s ashes. Now she made the Fringe her playground, she was on top, and she would be the one to either rule it or bring it crumbling down along with the Bureau. And little by little she did. Some people in Trix’s position stopped understanding death and what it meant but not her. She knew exactly what it was. ]
That weren’t no speech, pet , that were givin’ you a chance. Let’s play then. Don’t go makin’ no hasty moves now though, doll face... wouldn’t want me to slip.
[ The Syndicate leader twisted the knife held at the girl’s stomach until she felt the satisfying pop as the delicate organ forming such a thin and soft shield for the body was punctured. The membrane was always so breakable it hardly gave resistance but somehow it still contained an entire person: thoughts, feelings, organs, blood, water, muscle, fat. With the chilling blade held at the girl’s throat she dragged it up over her skin making it ruffle and wrinkle under the pressure. The flat of the steel underneath the adolescent’s jaw and the sharp of it where her head joined her neck, Trix used it to forcibly tilt her head back so she could better see what she was doing.
The knife was an extension of her and she bit it into the girl again, making a dainty incision at the square of her jaw and carefully pulling it along. Bright red against such pale flesh. Trix was cautious to miss anything vital. She didn’t want to kill the girl, just maim or seriously injure. She could have killed her with a fast knick to the jugular and she was sure that the blonde knew that. But she didn’t want to, not yet. She would save that for another time. Or she would give another Syndicate the pleasure of disposal. Some of them liked that. No, right now she just wanted to cause some pain. Like a warning to the Wolf at her knife and to Pyro if needs be that the Syndicate aren’t just going to roll over and have their bellies tickled. They weren’t dogs like the Wolf Pack and they certainly didn’t suckle. ]
[ It’s cold in the Fringe. A sort of cold that seeps into your bones and leaves you for dead, and raids your corpse before moving on. The sort of cold that was merciless and cutting - much like the residents of of the the Fringe. How appropriate. But money was tough in the Fringe, and it was far better to eat than to be warm. Priorities were important - but Talia had her fair share of soft gloves and warm scarves that lay in the bottom of cupboards and drawers. Gifts from people that shed’d collected over the years. She never brought them out. The entire Fringe was built on instability and danger, and Talia walked close enough to the line. Brighting out those gifts and trinkets would have just been asking - no begging, for a knife in the throat. So she suffered in skimpy blouses, cut low and daring. Talia didn’t mind particularly. So long as she kept to herself, she could usually walk through the cobbled streets without fear of attack. The other prostitutes were be less lucky - it was hardly surprising when one of them turned up dead on the ground after attracting the wrong type of person but Talia?
She played her own game.
Her heels clattered off the cobbled stones as she walked, a thin shawl draped around her shoulders. She had only bothered to button up her blouse half way, and in the waistband of her trousers she kept her familiar knife, only an arms length away should she have needed to drag someone’s throat out. She could hear someone behind her - indeed she’d heard them tracking her for the past ten minutes, but she hadn’t turned around, and she’d just carried on walking. It wasn’t uncommon for people to be followed, but the people usually got bored, and skulked away. This person, whoever they were, was different. More determined.
The alley way was near her. One, two, three steps away - and she had ducked into the darkness, breathing slightly heavier as she took out the knife, no hesitation or nerves as she held the blade between her hands, allowing the follower to reach the alley, before she swung her arm out, pinning her follower to the wall, the blade pressing lightly against the hollow of their throat, her voice low but sharp, much like the blade that was in her hand ]
[ The cold did not bite at Trix. It didn’t dare to lest she bite back. She wore her leather jacket zipped up to the top so the base of her neck only just showed and on her hands she wore her training gloves. They were fingerless and made of heavy black material and their purpose was to protect her knuckles when she beat the shit out of a punching bag or her trainees but they were always good for the colder weather. They had grips along the palms so that her stiletto knives were held firmly in her grasp. There were perks to being a gang leader.
The brunette woman stalked down the cobbled streets, her stocky boots curling off the ground silently as she moved. She was heading for the black market with the intent on making some mules bend over backwards to please her when someone down a side alley caught her eye. They were all alone. Bless. Trix didn’t hesitate to change her course and begin following the woman.
It was after a few paces when she recognised the shape of her. It was that whore girl, the one with the Clout intel. Well, it never hurt to give her a bit of a prod. Trix changed how she walked. She stopped creeping silently and began letting the toes of her boots clap sweetly to the pavement, announcing her presence to the world but namely the blonde up ahead. She gradually closed the gap between them using longer paces and faster strides.
The other woman ducked into a patch of darkness but Trix kept moving, turning both her knives in her palms, a smirk already donning her features and her eyes cutting everything their gaze rested on. An arm to her chest pinning her to the wall and a knife at her throat. Trix was just as fast. As the knife pressed the hollow of her throat, Trix’s blade found the whore’s and pushed it across the front of her opponent’s exposed gullet. Her other blade met at the woman’s ribs. Both weapons were held with enough force against the flesh that a single twitch of her wrists could slice into the woman and spill blood. Her smirk turned into a playful one. ]
Steady now, sugar. Looks like you found yourself in a deadlock. Honey, if you let up, I will. I ain’t got no business killin’ a useful lady such as yourself.
[ Trix’s eyes were bright and keen and they flashed across the woman’s face, trying to anticipate whether the woman would try and push the knife in. There was no look of malice in the Synicate leader’s face, not this time. She generally had no need for the woman to be dead in a ditch... yet. ]
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