The asker of this question is a redhead, her hair pulled
back and up and left to spray outwards in a topknot. Her
name is Drusilla Devonshire, but to the wrestling world she
is known and reviled as Malice, troublemaker and resident
sociopath of The Dead Man's Hand.
The wall of tattooed muscle she is questioning was named
Vincent Matthews most of his adult life, but legally
changed it to Mayhem in order to protect his rights to the
name. Plus, he thinks it just sounds fucking cool to be
named Mayhem.
As way of an answer, Mayhem merely grunted, shrugging his
shoulders, and continued to water the plants in the den of
the sprawling mansion which had been christened Casa Mayhem
in the heyday of Magnum Opus, the stable Mayhem had been
the linchpin of until it imploded a storm of ego and treachery.
Malice trailed behind the man who was easily twice her
size, stopping to occasionally pluck a browned leaf from
one of the plants.
'Ever since we disbanded the Opus, you've been so listless,
so blah,' Malice continued. 'At first I thought it was
because you were off your... medication, but after Alex had
her talk with the Project Chimera people, that is no longer
an issue. Is it the fact that everyone has gone and you're
here in this giant house alone?'
Mayhem shook his head, continuing to water plans and
answering without looking back, 'No, I was alone here
before you guys came along, it's kind of nice to have some
peace and quiet occasionally.'
Malice's forehead crinkled in thought. 'Is it sex? Is that
what's bothering you? It's a shame Kat's all tied up in
keeping Kennedy busy, I hear tell she might have had a
thing for you. I'm sure there are plenty of ring rats
willing to put themselves in the Path of Destruction.'
Malice stopped, tapping her fingers against her lips. 'Oh!
There's always Sarah Riley! She could help you with all
your problems, get both heads straight?'
Finally Mayhem looked away from the plants, looking back
over his shoulder and rolling his eyes.
'It was just a thought...' The Troublemaker's eyes suddenly
widened. 'I see that Hunter's back! You and him never had a
chance to finish your business!'
For what was at least the dozenth time in the conversation,
Mayhem's massive shoulders shrugged. 'Eh, Hunter Sabuani is
one of the last of my concerns right now.'
Malice stood in the arch of the hallway, hands planted on
her hips. 'You've lost all your fire, all your drive! It's
no wonder Rosa decided she-'
When you're dealing with a man who is nearly seven feet
tall and who weighs close to four hundred pounds, it is
very easy to assume he is going to be slow and clumsy.
Mayhem, however, is neither of these things as suddenly he
wheels on Malice, dropping the plastic watering can in the
process. Before the can has hit the floor, Mayhem has the
redhead slammed against the wall hard enough that plaster
dust drifts from above, and holds her pinned against the
hallway by the neck.
Mayhem leaned in, his face inches away from hers, 'Don't
think I don't know what you're fucking doing, Drusilla!
You're pushing my buttons, trying to goad me! Oz used to do
the same fucking thing with his fancy words and his
annoying little sneer!'
Drusilla managed a squeak in protest, which only seemed to
anger Mayhem further. He rewarded her by pulling her away
from the wall only to slam her against it again, hard
enough this time that her eyes fluttered and rolled for a
brief moment as she struggled to remain conscious.
'YOU DO NOT GET TO TALK NOW!!' Mayhem roared, spittle
spraying on Malice's alabaster skin before he calmed
himself some. 'Be careful you do not put me in a position
where I do something that forces Alex to choose between you
and me, Dru. Nobody except the good guys would like the end
result of that.'
And with that, Mayhem released her, leaving her to slump
against the wall holding her throat and coughing as she
watched him stalk away down the hallway. After he turned
out of sight and slammed the door behind him, Malice
silently counted to thirty and pulled out a cellphone and
began dialing.
'I think he's ready,' she croaked into the phone. 'At least
for the likes of Paul Searle.' The redhead listened for a
moment, clearing her throat before going on. 'I'm fine, we
had a disagreement but now there is... an understanding.'
She closed her eyes, cradling the phone tightly against her
ear. 'I'm fine, I can take care of myself. We'll be in New
Hampshire tomorrow morning, we have a red eye out tonight,
see you there.'
It wasn't until after the party on the other end had
disconnected and she closed the phone that she added, 'I
miss you.'