The Full Story: Under The Surface. On The Edge of The Blade

[MERCENARY]

Prologue

June 2, 2019


She stared into the cracked mirror over the bathroom sink by the dim light of a blue nightlight bulb. Her eyeliner dripped down her cheeks in blue-black rivulets to add a smokey hue to the already reddish cloud in the basin. Her razor was laid out on the rim of the sink. It was wet with fresh color. She whispered to her reflection.

Dalilah: "I'm not a loser. I'm not a waste. I'm not a loser. I am not a waste. I am not... I'm NOT!"

She slammed her hand against the glass. The edge of the crack opened a small gash in the meat of her palm. Blood welled up slowly and began to pool there. She stared at it and pinched at the wound to aggravate the flow. The lamp in her bedroom outside the door snapped on and Merc pushed the half closed door the rest of the way open. Seeing the razor on the sink- but not noticing the blood on her hand- he gripped her firmly by the shoulder and pulled her out of the bathroom and into the light.

Mercenary: "Lilah, Jesus..."

He stopped, seeing the wound on her palm. Tearing off the sleeve of his tee shirt he ripped it into a strip which he used to bind her palm. Pressing the wound to his lips he tried to pull her closer but she tore away from him, taking as much space as the room would allow between them. She stood stiff with her arms at her side and her chin and eyes lowered to the floor. Her eyes welled on the edge of tears and her breathing was tight and ragged. With much effort he kept his distance, taking the time to keep his voice calm and light when he finally spoke to her.

Mercenary: "Ash. Baby. Tell me what is wrong with you. Please. What is going on?"

She flinched slightly when he spoke despite the even tone and volume. The motion caused small drops of water to trickle down her cheeks. She started to shiver despite the warmth of the room. She looked up at him with wide eyes.

Dalilah: "I'm not a loser. I'm not. I'm just not. I didn't mean to."

Merc: "Ash, what are you talking about?"

Dalilah: "MY MATCH! I lost my match. I couldn't climb that damn ladder... I just couldn't! But I didn't mean to lose... I... promise."

It took him a moment to make connection with her meaning.

Merc: The ladder match a few weeks ago? Lilah, you did good in that match honey... I mean who gives a shit about one match... I mean c'mon baby, it was only one match."

She shook her head back and forth repeatedly whispering "No." over and over again.

Dalilah: "No. No. No! I'm not a loser. I'm not. They told me I was. They told me. But it's just not true. It's NOT. I swore it never would be. I promised."

Merc: " 'They' told you? Who the Hell are you talking about?

She froze at the question. Her shivering stopped. Her tears stopped. She simply froze with a look of pure childlike terror on her face. She bit her bottom lip and hugged herself, rocking slightly back and forth. Her demeanor only concerned him further.

Merc: "Lila, tell me what you mean."

She looked like a little girl lost.

Dalilah: {whispered} "I can't. I can't tell. You. You'll hate me. You'll hate me if you know. If you know you'll hate me and you'll go away. You'll hate me."

He went to her despite her resistance. She shied away from him, pushing against his embrace. Not resisting her he allowed her an arms length but did not completely let go. She was again crying quietly and the blood from her palm, which had soaked through the bandage, was smeared in a small stain across his forearm. Very gently, but with solid force, he repeated his demand.

Merc: "Tell me what you mean."

Dalilah: "You don't understand. You won't understand. You'll get mad at me. You'll hate me and you'll go away. I don't want you to go away."

Merc: "I won't hate you. I'm not going anywhere. Now tell me. Please."

Dalilah: "You don't understand. You don't. They hurt me. They told me that I was useless. They... they told me that I was useless but that they'd find a use for me and then I wouldn't be useless anymore. And then they... hurt me. And I let them... But I fight now... I fight now... I promise I fight so hard... I..."

He felt a frozen storm in the pit of his stomach. An ice pick stabbed at his heart. He began to grind his teeth against a howl of fury. Rage and suspicion crept up the back of his skull. His mind reeled and his chest tightened. Dalilah stared at him and her face fell to sorrow.

Dalilah: "I knew it. You hate me. I'm so sorry. Please don't. It was a long time ago. It doesn't mean anything now. I'm yours now. Please..."

With a great deal of effort he softened his stance.

Merc: {numbly} "It doesn't mean a thing." {Then with force and feeling} "You are not my girl. "

The statement scared her, bringing panic to her features and she tried to bolt from the room. Gently holding her arms he slid down her body to kneel in front of her. Looking up at her the look in his eyes was a storm of emotion. She stepped back a little bit, now calming in her demeanor, staring down deeply into his eyes seeking for his meaning.

Merc: "You are not MY girl. NO ONE owns you. NO ONE tells you who to be. You don't belong to anyone. You don't belong to ME... I belong to you and no one will ever hurt you ever again.

Dalilah smiled and the tears came now for a different reason. He stood and held her, the two entwined for what seemed forever.

Dalilah: "I promise. I fight now. I fight. I'll show you when we go to Paris. I'll show you when I beat that little bitch."

Much time later when the emotion eased Mercenary went downstairs for a drink after making Dalilah promise that she wouldn't hurt herself anymore. Returning to the bathroom she switched on the single bulb and began to fix her face, re-applying lip stick and eye liner. Stepping back into the bedroom she positioned herself in a chair against a brick wall, adjusting the lamp so that the light was right for filming. Picking up her cell phone she pressed the screen and began to record:

Dalilah: "Annie Cliffhanger. Paris is a city known for some sick types of torture. But the twisted imagination of those bastard executioners is nothing compared to the games I plan to play with you. You stupid little bubble headed bitch. You say that you want to 'save' my man? Save him from what? From himself? From ME? You think that I am MANIPULATING The Mercenary? Manipulating him to what? To make love to a beautiful younger woman? To recognize himself as the truly dangerous force that he is? To stop going easy on all the lesser wrestlers who stand in his way? And how are YOU going to save him exactly? Are you going to convince him that he is a good person? Or do you just want to convince him that he's too good for a little twisted slut like me? I have news for you little girl. The Man is mine and there is nothing you can do to 'save' him from the future I want for him. And there is nothing to do to save yourself from me and what I am going to do to you in the ring. I'm going to teach you to mind your own business. And if you bring your titty swingin' sis along, I'll teach her to. You've made a very big mistake you useless little loser. But that's okay, I'll be more than happy to find a very painful purpose just for you."

Ending the video she uploaded it to EWC media. A direct message to Annie Cliffhanger for everyone in the world to hear. Standing up she went back into the bathroom and leaned forward into the mirror, offering her reflection a twisted jester's grin and a laugh from the heart of hell.

*****

Under The Surface. On The Edge of The Blade: Part 1

The sound of the front door opening caused many pairs of eyes to turn in his direction. In a place like this dimly lit side-street bar there are very few unfamiliar faces. The clientele in the front room is comprised of mostly heavily tattooed Latino men, some of whom wear leather vests with patches on the back. They sit in quiet clusters in the shadowy corners of the room, or on lounges where they are served drinks by several scantily clad women who hustle back and forth from the bar. The patrons here know the score and there is seldom a warm welcome for the odd stranger who might wander in looking for their own libation. The expressions that meet the man standing in the open doorway are in no world friendly. He is obviously an interloper here and no one seems to like it… until he steps into the light and shuts the door behind him. All the glaring eyes look down or away from the face of Sinestro Sinister. He walks unchallenged across the bar to the back of the room where a large man sits on a stool outside of a closed door. At his approach the guard loomed upwards from his seat, standing easily a head and a half above the smaller Sinister who stared up at him with a glacial expression. The big man knocked on the door and a small slot situated about eye level slid open. The guard whispered something to the person beyond the door, indicating in Sinestro’s direction with a nod of his head. A moment later there was the sound of heavy locks being pulled back and the door swung open from the inside. Sinister nodded at the guard and walked past him into the dark room beyond.
Inside he was greeted with great respect by a large Hispanic man with a heavy handlebar mustache. This man wears a leather vest like the men out in the bar, but the patch on his chest reads: El Presidente. He invites Sinestro to join him at a large padded booth where he offers him a drink that Sinister declines with a wave of his hand. Reaching into his jacket’s inner pocket Sinestro produces an envelope which he slides across the table top. The Prez takes the envelope, extracting a piece of paper and a few loose photos from inside of its fold. He looks at the photographs with particular interest.

El Prez: “When do you need it done?”

Sinister: “A few days. The address is written there.”

El Prez: {Rubbing his thick chin stubble.} “Yeah. Not a problem Jefe. Consider it done.”

Sinestro smiles and nods. He pushes himself up from the booth and heads for the door which is again un-bolted and opened for him. Once more the outer bar goes quiet as he makes his way back to the front door. The tension in the room is suffocating. There are no soft men among those who gather here but even the hardest and most dangerous of them knew better than to disrespect the devil. Sinestro exited the bar and made his way up the stairs and down the alley to the street where his SUV awaited him on the corner. The driver opened the back door for him and he climbed into the spacious back seat where Lacy Savage sat staring seriously out of the tinted window.

Savage: “Is it done? “

Sinister: “It is.”

Savage: “And you’re sure now is the right time?”

Sinister: “I am.”

Savage: “You really think he’s ready?”

Sinister: “He will be. When the time comes. He will be.”

The two rode on in silence into the darkness of the night.

*****

Under The Surface. On The Edge of The Blade: Part 2

Dalilah Ashe: "Life tends to teach some very painful lessons. But when the lessons have to be repeated- When the pupils just don't seem to learn.- The method of those tutorials tends to become increasingly... savage. But we all learn at our own individual pace don't we? It took me a very long time to learn. It took a lot to make me see the way things were. Some of the people who taught me cared about me. They were hard on me for my own good. But others, well, they just liked to watch me cry until my tears were dry and all that was left in my eyes was the resentment. I was a...difficult... student. But I'm sure it hurt them much more than it hurt me. At least that was what they told me, though sometimes they were laughing when they said it.  Last week my partners were two men that undeniably have my back. They are men I trust... men who would fight for me. But they are not the kind of men, like Gerald with his own lovely family, that would do anything for me. THAT man is the one that will be watching my back this time around. THAT man is my Mercenary."

The camera pans away from Dalihla and settles on the looming figure of The Mercenary as he leans against a brick wall to the right of where she sits. Stepping off the wall he steps forward to say his piece...

A side door slams open interrupting him mid-promo. Michael turns around with an annoyed look on his face, knowing that he will have to now start over. He glares at Malice who wears a serious and slightly disturbed expression.

Merc: "What the hell man? We're tryin' to do some business here!"

Malice: "Sinestro wants us all downstairs right now. Says it's important."

Merc: "You can go tell the Latin Charlie Manson that I'll be along when I'm damn good and..."

Dalilah puts her hand on his arm.

Dalilah: "Michael. I think it's important. We should go."

Mercenary looks at her and sighs before reluctantly giving in. Together they follow Malice back through the door and down a set of steps into the bowels of Club 9 Circles. There are strange noises in the darkness below and the lower he goes the more the hair rose on the back of his neck.

The "package" he (Sinestro) had ordered arrived right on time and all the parts were in place. From the room behind the heavy metal door the sounds of struggle had fallen silent. Now was only the anticipation. Lacey Savage stood coldly in the corner. Her frosty demeanor giving the small room the feel of a meat locker. She is joined in the room by the vast presence of Sinestro Sinister, who is seated at a table in the center of the room. On the table are three plastic masks. The image of three blank black faces staring with empty eyes up to the ceiling. From the stairwell Malice enters the room followed close behind by Dalilah Ashe and a still petulant Mercenary who surveys the scene in front of him with a skeptical expression. He removes his sunglasses to better see in the dimly lit space.

Mercenary: "You summoned. Here we are. What do ya need?"

Sinestro smiled. Mercenary was one of the few people who still showed him such disrespect even though he was not a naive man. Mercenary knew what Sinestro Sinister was, he just didn't care. That was a fact that Sinestro had always found endearing.

Sinister: "Well my son, we find ourselves facing some unfinished business. You see in recent months we have come together as a sort of a family. We claim that distinction. We claim to be that close. But I still have questions. I wonder Michael. I wonder if those of us here would really do what needed to be done if the situation arose? Would we really prove ourselves to be... Familia?"

Dalilah looked around the room nervously. She looked first at Sinister, then at Mercenary, her gaze finally coming to rest on the face of Lacey Savage. She moved uncertainly in her direction as she answered Sinestro.

Ashe: "Yes... YES... We are. Aren't we? We are. We're Family. We're MY family. My family."

Lacey moved to intercept her with a soothing arm around her shoulders.

Savage: "Calm down little one. It's alright. Let's go out for a second and let the boys clear some things up."

Lacey guided her gently from the room and back into the stairwell. Mercenary watched them go with a look of concern. He turned back to Sinister with an angry expression.

Mercenary: "What that hell is all this about? Is it me? Are you still doubting me? I told you I was all in with F E U D what the hell else do you want from me? You need me to sign some kinda oath in blood or something?"

The ghost of a smile crossed Sinestro's features and his eyes turned to the heavy metal door as if he could see what was beyond.

Sinister: "Something like that."

*****


Under The Surface. On The Edge of The Blade: Part 3

Mercenary's gaze followed Sinestro's to the doorway.

Merc: "What exactly the f**k are you talking about? Straight talk man. No more spooky little speeches. Say what you mean."

Sinestro looked to Malice.

Sinister: "Tell Him."

Malice hesitated and Sinestro repeated his demand. Mercenary was growing more and more agitated by the minute.

Malice: "Brother. Man. Do you... You remember a few months ago? You remember when you caught Dalilah in the bathroom... cutting on herself. What she told you. And she wouldn't tell her who."

The memory of Dalilah in tears repeating the words "They hurt me." echoed in his ears and his whole mood darkened.

Malice: "Since we all linked up Dalilah's kinda taken to Lacey. A surrogate mother kinda thing maybe, I don't know. But anyway, Lacey's been talking to her a lot and one night a few weeks ago she came clean with her. She told her what happened. She told her the details. She told her who did it."

Mercenary clenched both fists. His face was red, his blood pressure elevated. He felt off balance and the world started to go dark. Sinestro stood up from the table and walked over to face him.

Sinister: "Lacey gave me the names. I gave those names to a few friends of mine and they brought those boys to me. They brought them here... to us."

Malice: "They did some horrible sh*t to her bro. Lacey told me. Sh*t that you don't ever need to know. But we've got'em now. They're right in there. They belong to us. It's time for some payback. Justice man. Punishment."

Mercenary ran his fingers through his spiky hair, tearing off his bandanna and casting it on the ground. He began to pace, clenching and un-clenching his fists. He couldn't force clarity. His head spun and all he felt was rage. Sinestro picked two of the masks from the table, handing one to Malice who took it without hesitation. He held the other one out to Mercenary.

Sinister: "It's your choice now. Are you really in? How deep are you willing to go with us? How much do you care about her? Do you love her? {This question caused Mercenary's glare to snap in his direction. The man was seething.} What would you do for that love? What would you really do to someone who hurt her, for real. Not in the the ring, but out in the world. Do you have skin in this game or are you just playing the role?"

Mercenary stared into Sinister's soul and snatched the mask from his fingers. Malice went to the closed door, throwing it open with a loud bang. Beyond the portal the figures of three men could be seen duct-taped and gagged in folding chairs. They sat three abreast and each showed signs of a previous beating. Mayhem, his face hidden behind a similar mask, loomed over the last in line with a piece of rebar in his hand. He brought it down with a thud on the shoulder of the middle man who grunted through his gag as the metal bar broke his collar bone. Mayhem looked up at the open door and his smile was almost visible from behind the thick black plastic of the mask. Malice stood at the door, holding in open, as he waited for Mercenary to enter. Dalilah's sobbing echoed in the cavern of his mind as he looked at these three pathetic souls who were at this point completely helpless. The memory of her words fueled his rage and he stalked through the opening that Malice quickly slammed shut behind him.

The time that passed was uncertain to them all. It could have been moments or hours. The time passed in a bubble of blood and screaming until the screams fell to silent whimpers. They had stopped begging now. They had stopped making any sound at all. They just lay there, the three of them, with their bodies broken and their breathing labored. Mercenary stood in the corner completely out of breath. He was exhausted beyond anything he'd ever known. But despite all the expended energy the rage still remained. A cool cross-breeze came with the opening of the door. Sinestro walked into the room with his face laid bare for all to see. He crouched over the men and cocked his head to the side staring at them as one might inspect a strange kind of bug in a jar. Looking up he waved his hand and Dalilah entered the room. Mercenary was bothered by the fact that she was also not wearing a mask.

Sinister: "Look at her. Really look at her. Do you remember her? Does a single one of you even remember her face? She is the reason you are here. What you did to her. What you made her do. You deserve this. You didn't give her a choice. But now the choice is hers. {He rose and walked to stand behind Dalilah, resting his hands on her shoulders to steady her.} What happens now is all up to her. It's thumbs up or thumbs down. Do you live with what you have done or do you die for it?"

At the mention of dying the men started to squirm once again. Their pleas for mercy were muffled by the tape around their mouths. Mercenary came closer. Sinister picked up the piece of rebar that had long ago been abandoned by Mayhem. He handed it to Mercenary who took it absently but without hesitation.

Sinister: "So what is it to be little one? What was done was done to you. It's your choice. He'll do what you ask. He's ready to prove himself to you. He's all in now. He's shed blood for his blood. Now you set the limits. What is it to be?"

Dalilah stared down at the three boys for a very long time. Perhaps she was re-living the moments in her mind, or perhaps she was just trying to surmise if this whole situation was real or just existed in her mind. She looked for a long time... and then she smiled and spit on them.

Ashe: "Let this garbage remember my face. Let'em live with it. Let them remember this and wake up screaming in the middle of the night. Let me be their nightmare now."

With that she stepped over them and walked from the room. Mercenary still clutched the rebar tightly in his hand. Sinestro staid his arm and took the bar from his fist. Malice and Mayhem left the room and Sinister guided Mercenary out after them. Mercenary tore the mask from his face. His expression was one of shock and hatred. Sinestro smiled up at him.

Sinister: "Now you know how far you'll go. Now you're ready. Now you're really one of us."

Mercenary broke for the stairs and headed up out of the darkness in search of the light, followed closely by Dalilah.  Sinestro was joined in the room by several large Hispanic men all clad in motorcycle vests. He directed them to untie the men and pull them upright. He stood in front of them as they slumped in the rough grip of his conspirators.

Sinister: "Now listen very close boys. You will forget this place and these people. You got jumped by some crazy 'Mexicans' and that is it. If I ever see or hear from any of you again my face will be the last one you see before your families get put in the ground. Get'em gone."

On that order the three men were pulled from sight and out the back where they were driven away in a plain black van.

*****

Epilogue

The hot water soaked his hair and slid down his bruised body.  His knuckles throbbed.  It was almost certain that a few of the bones in his striking hand were broken.  He soaped and soaked the cuts and scrapes, rinsing away the crusted blood in a copper cloud that swirled down the drain at his feet.  The curtain pulled back and she slipped in with him.  The water turned her black hair into an oil slick that spread to the small of her back.  Naked and scrubbed clean of her makeup Michael always noticed how young and frail she tended to look.  She put her arms around him and pulled herself close to him, resting her head on his chest.  There were tears in her eyes.  He smoothed her hair away for her face and wiped her eye gently with his thumb.  She looked up at him and the look on her face was a blade to his heart.  He leaned over and kissed her on the top of her wet head, holding her close and letting her cry.  He let the warm water wash over his face.  He would have killed them.  He had no doubt of it.  If she had said the word he would have beat them each to death with that rusty metal rod without hesitation or second thought.  He had never felt that feeling before.  He had never been driven that far.  Even when he had stood up against the various boyfriends who had mistreated his mother he had never felt the absolute certainty that he would take it all the way beyond the point of no return, but down in that basement he had felt nothing close to any kind of doubt.  In that moment he had faced his limits, and he had realized that in the case of this woman what he was capable of doing was limitless.  He realized he would do anything to keep her safe.  He would do anything to make her happy.  What he felt for her... the strength of it... it must be love, right?  What else could it be.  He held her tighter.  She turned and pressed her back against his body, reaching up to stroke the side of his face with her thin fingers.  He grasped her hand and kissed it softly on the center of her palm.  She let the hot water stream down the front of her figure.  Her chest was flushed red.  He rested his chin on the top of her head and the two of them stood there allowing the water to wash them clean until the flow ran cold and raised goosebumps on their skin.

She lay across the bed dressed only in a thin slip of black silk, her hair brushed neatly back.  He stood at the mirror wearing only a pair of black basketball shorts.  He was leaning forward into the mirror, both palms flat on the small dresser.  He was staring into his own eyes.  He didn't know what he expected to find there.  Maybe something sad.  Maybe the devil returning his stare.  She looked at his body in the dim light, taking in all the tattoos and scars that formed a map of his history across his back.  This was a man who had seen and done many horrible things in his life, but he had never experienced anything like what had happened today.  That was a new, fresh, hell to a man who was not unfamiliar with the darkness.  It could be called a new low and it was not lost on her that he had delved those depths all for her.  She couldn't help but let a smile visit itself upon her lips.  It was something of a twisted grin and she indulged it for a moment before she hid it away again as he turned away from the mirror.  He looked at her laying there: A dark angel, so white against the black of the sheets that she looked like a ghost in the darkness.  She cocked her head and stared up at him lovingly and longingly.

Ashe: "Are you mad at me?"

Mercenary: "No baby, I'm not mad... at you."

Ashe: "Do you regret it?  Are you sorry you did... what you did?"

Mercenary: "I did it... for you.  I did... what I had to do... for you."

She pushed herself up on her knees in front of him.  She spoke with a hint of desperation in her voice.

Ashe: "But are you sorry?"

He looked at her kneeling there for a long moment.  She was so young.  So innocent.  Yet at the same time so very deadly and possessed of an inner strength that nobody could really gauge by looking at her slight frame and small stature. She was much stronger than she looked.

Mercenary {Sitting down next to her on the bed and putting his hand over hers.}: "I would do anything for you Dalilah.  I would become anyone or anything I needed to become.  We're... the same... you and I.  If someone hurts you, then they hurt me to.  And NOBODY is going to hurt us.  Not anymore.  We've been through enough.  It's our turn now.  Whatever that means.  Whatever that takes.  It's all about us now.  It's all about protecting our Family."

She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him deeply.  As the two sank into the sheets she reached over and switched out the light the two forms becoming a single shadow in the darkness of the night.