Loose Ends [WWE; Edge]

[schizoauthoress_library]

Title: Loose Ends
Author: D.L.SchizoAuthoress
Rating: R
Spoilers: opens just after Edge's debut match (June 22, 1998)
Warnings: canon-typical violence, vampirism
Prompt/Fill: none
Word Count: 778
Summary: It wasn't supposed to go this way. Edge isn't handling his vampirism as well as he'd thought he could.

Note: David Heath got the Gangrel alias when he worked for WWF. Since this takes place prior to his debut, I'm using his previous ring name "The Vampire Warrior". (And I know Edge referred to his first gimmick as being a 'pseudo vampire', but that's less fun...)

Loose Ends

Edge ran from the arena, afraid. Not afraid of anything or anyone within, but afraid of what he could do to those inside. He hadn't meant to hurt his opponent, not as seriously as he had -- but nonetheless, Jose Estrada Jr. was lying outside the squared circle in that arena with an injured neck. Edge knew that if he couldn't restrain himself, couldn't control how much of his superhuman strength he used in a match, he had no future here.

He'd hung all his hopes on success in the World Wrestling Federation -- if he was a success, if he was able to draw a crowd, if he was worth the risk, then he would be valuable to them. And he could amass the power and influence to be free.

Edge ran as if he could outrun the rage burning in his gut, as if he could leave behind the monster he'd become just over a year ago. But he knew he couldn't.

In the end, he veered into a building on purpose, slamming his body against reinforced concrete and howling his rage to the empty streets. Not quite instinct but well ingrained habit had carried him into an industrial part of town, full of silent warehouses and creaking machinery, somewhere that his human prey did not frequent. Edge stalked over to a padlocked metal door and yanked at the chain with both hands. Several of the links twisted and lengthened as he pulled, warping under the strain of his strength, before finally snapping apart. He discarded the broken chain and lock, and yanked open the door.

Once inside, Edge gave in to the monster -- ripping and tearing and screaming -- destroying without fear of being discovered, venting his anger without fear of producing a victim that would lead to discovery.

Only the very stupid, or those with a poor grasp of reality, would wander toward these sounds. And those were the sort of people who had been failed by society, whom society wouldn't miss. If Edge did seize such a person in his rage -- fed from and killed them -- it wouldn't be a guaranteed problem. His sire had taught him --

"No!" Edge snarled at himself. He went to his knees on the concrete floor and dragged in a few harsh, gulping breaths. "No! Don't think about it! He's not here. He's not."

Telling himself not to think of his sire, though, was still thinking of his sire. And that tiny gap in his mental armor was enough.

'I'll find you, Edge. Be ready.'

Edge leaped to his feet and glared around wildly, unsure if that brush with his sire's mind meant that the Vampire Warrior was nearby. But no one came out of the shadows to confront him -- not his sire, not his vampiric 'brother', not even his sire's human wife. He was still alone.

Alone. That was how he wanted it, right?

Edge flexed his hands into fists, and back out again.

He'd sought out the Vampire Warrior. He'd wanted this -- wanted to be a vampire, wanted the power and the immortality it would grant him. The baggage that came with it, though, was almost too much. Edge had hated being under the Vampire Warrior's control, even if the man rarely exercised that influence -- hated it so much that he ran, the moment he could fight against the bond between sire and childe.

They were still bound, inextricably bound, and would be forever.

What had he known of forever? Barely in his twenties and chasing a dream, desperate for any edge over the competition that he could get -- willing to court death and damnation for the mere possibility of success... what had he known of forever?

The Vampire Warrior would always be in the back of Edge's mind -- a hyena pacing and giggling in the dark. Christian was there, too -- something quieter, unruffled -- and his presence was a consolation. Just not enough of one for Edge to stay with them.

Edge heard footsteps, and the jingle of keys. Someone human, possibly a security guard making the rounds.

Too risky to feed from. So Edge fled back out into the night.

The blood hunger within him was aching to be assuaged. Edge knew he couldn't hold off the necessary feeding forever. Given the strength of his hunger, exacerbated by his enraged outburst, he couldn't hold it off for the night.

He had to feed. All other concerns were secondary to that, for the moment. The harm he'd inadvertently done to Estrada, the punitive measures the WWF might take, being trailed by his sire -- all of that faded from his mind in favor of his hunger.

He needed blood.

*-*-*-*-*

Comments

[daggerpen]

I loved the bit of this you quoted to me way back when, but I appreciate this whole thing even more now after reading Worth the Pain, too. Poor Edge losing control in the arena and trying so hard to escape his sire is great (I still really love the "Telling himself not to think of his sire, though, was still thinking of his sire." line), but I think probably my favorite passage in the whole thing is "What had he known of forever? Barely in his twenties and chasing a dream, desperate for any edge over the competition that he could get -- willing to court death and damnation for the mere possibility of success... what had he known of forever?", especially on the heels of Edge accidentally hurting his opponent in the same competition he'd sought this out for in the first place. Good work!