"I wonder what you look like on the inside Sax."

The gun metal eyes lifted from her detail work, the exquisite art of stitches as lips of a corspe were pulled into the pantomime of sweet bliss smile. Funny that only hours ago that face held an expression of open mouthed horror. A sadist kill target always had that face. Eyes with the deer in headlights look and open mouth screams begging for flies.

"All Pink."

Flat was the gravel and blues tone as she leveled her gaze on Stonze like one sighting down a hair line trigger. Every few months or so it came to this point. The Hunger Point. The Breaking Point. Where all that was carnal and cruel and savage and blunt of a serial killer's nature awakened and roared out its hunger in her face.

In Stonze black eyes she saw the bottoms up offering of liquid death with a chaser of torture and torment. Her teeth bared in a smile as she laughed quietly and flicked the scissors out of her hand.

A snip and cut of threads.

"I want to see."

A tsk of tongue. Sigh breathed out as the smile went savage sharp. Voice leveled in a honey thick purr that contained the promise of something far more cruel and uncontrolled.

"Aww honey, we've been down this road before....you know it ends. It's all wrong turns and dead ends."

Significant placement on wrong and dead, thick with barb wire cruelty as her muscles stayed loose, relaxed even as her spine snapped with the electricity of want. Hunger. Need for a fight.

A flick of eyes cut to the quick, seeing Styx there near the incinerator.

She could see the whites of his eyes rolling back. Like a wild stallion at the starting line eager to be set loose.

Sometimes he frothed at the mouth.

No the Hunger hadn't got that bad yet. Not in him at least.

"I want. To See."

"See No Evil."

A gasp of pleasure and pain, eyes glinted with the silver glisten of fresh polished blades that had jagged teeth and serrated edges. Her eyes were terrible in their beauty as she felt his hand close around her throat, lifting her like a rag doll.

She hung limp as he pushed her up on to the counter, pushing up her skirt in the process.

Sax knew she would be safe until the zipper was drawn.

Down Down Down to the River Styx.

That's when the line was crossed and the ferry man didn't bring you back.

Points of No Return.

Stonze' voice fell like heavy rocks on water. Splashes of sound against her ears that were deafening.

Don't upset the beast. Don't excite him.

He was excited enough.

Tooth by tooth she heard dull metal sliding down a jagged path.

"Ah Ah Ah."

The Machete was in her hand like it belonged there. Waved in a no no no reprimand before tapping his chin.

Teeth bared and she moved, the heel of stiletto pushed where it'd make a point.

His groan was the sound of pleasure and pain.

Always such thin lines.

A flick of wrist. A dance of fingers.

Drawing blood.

A trickle of red at his throat.

Sax leaned in in the ways that lovers leaned in to whisper secrets.

Pale tongue snaking out and tracing that line of copper field red.

"You know what happens when you touch me, Stonze. You know the rules. You touch me and I take your boys."

She smiled pretty then, porcelain skin angel bliss sweet for a portrait poise as his fingers loosened from her throat and she dropped down on the ground.

On her feet.

Just like she always did.

Her laughter was thick and sensual then, leaving her sloe-eyed in her private humor as she cast a devil charm wink to Styx, saluting with the machete.

"And we all know....nobody wants a eunich."

Watching from the black spill of hair to regard Stonze again. Passive and contemplative she knew she'd made her place known once more.

The Machete was set down with a smooth nod to him.

All was well.

No harm no foul.

Her smile was as bright as acid on a gravestone in the midnight hour.

The scissors were picked up again, the stitches pulled.

"Smile m'dear....you have a show to attend....and it's all for you."

The paint brush was dipped down into the a pool of crimson stain. Effortless stroke of color against white canvas. Sax felt like Van Gogh must have when insanity tore chunks out of his soul.

The boys had become impatient. Who really could blame them. They'd been so good for so long. No one would miss a few prostitutes. There were so many to go by and through.

Humanity was desparate. Greedy and Wanton. All for Lust and pretty coins.

The value of the dollar. The weight of a pound of flesh.

What could you barter for.

Her head lifted at a low moan of pleasure that prowled through her ears as Styx played Romeo to one Sax knew would be his next victim, his next meal.

Blond haired and doe eyed the trollup cast a curious look at Sax as she slouched in the corner, painting the walls red.

"What's her deal" Does she want to join?" "Sax. Nah....she just likes....to watch."

Gun-metal eyes met doe eyes. Near soulless in that moment and it left the girl quivering and writhing in the way of one getting a cold shiver up the spine. Like someone had walked over their grave. Styx wouldn't let that last for long.

Her shivers became squirms to his rough thrusts of pleasure.

Sax's painting paused. A shift of eyes watching. In near beast born fashion her head cocked to the side, ear alert and listening in.

Moans of pleasure to crescendo in a sudden scream of surprise that became a gurgling choking sound.

Such an awful pretty sound.

Funny how a harlot would never expect for her throat to be cut like she was nothing more then a calf led to slaughter.

Stupid doe eyed cow.

Sax didn't flinch when the artery was cut and sprayed her in a shower dapple of blood.

It would take an awful lot of cleaning to get the blood washed away. Luckily the trio were experts in their crimes of passion.

Kept in clean and secure. All part of the job. All part of the feeding of the need.

The paint brush dipped again into the spill of crimson.

A tsk of tongue as she bent down and licked a line of blood from Styx's cheek even while the paint brush lifted and she caressed strokes of life blood at his jaw, a line between his eyes, across his cheeks.

"War Paint."

Savage. He was so savage as he finished his work, Styx had a violent smile that made her pleased she wasn't his taste when it came to victims.

Wiry as he was, some would figure him the nerd sort, the quiet sort....but weren't the quiet ones always the ones that went BANG when it came to synaptic gaps of tolerance and appreciation. A genius of what doe eyes had called adorable dork. How charming.

Doe eyes deserved to die just for that mistake.

Gun-metal eyes snapped away from Styx with a distant smile as the paint brush was lifted once more. Her painting complete as Stonze walked back in the room.

Clean. Fresh and Clean. Bare-chested the man was impressive to look at. Bald and sadistic eyed. He was the Nightmare that a woman just couldn't resist.

Made Sax glad he was on her side, even if he just wanted to get inside....of her.

She couldn't blame him. Couldn't damn him though. He after all supplied tonight's paint.

Her head tipped back to settle gaze on the near seven foot monster of a man. Eyes slitted and lips pressed in full temptation of offer of a kiss.

Stonze laughed and her laugh poured like honey over the cold hard steel of his.

Clean up time.

The paint brush dropped into dirty water, one glance back to her masterpiece.

A symbol worn on the flesh of a man that had tasted like shadows and sin, smoke and savage ways. So many tastes that tempted Sax like addiction in the veins of the street vermin.

A trace of tongue on those tattoos and oh the taste....was exquisite.

She'd paint the night red for him.

The knives were sharp and laid out in a row. There was a certain clinical finesse and structure to the moment. Plastic coated the room from the ceilings to the floor. Never was there a spot missed. Sax watched with her usual well preserved indifference as the wiry form of Styx moved and paced back and forth. He was always so restless, as restless as Stonze was always seething with some core of fury that seemed ready to detonate at any moment. They all were time bombs. Tick tocking away as the world and its lackluster inhabitants continued on oblivious to the trio's unsatiable hunger.

Sax remembered one night watching a collection of horror movies with Styx and Stonze. Where some would squeal at the horror fest or wince away in terror and discomfort she found her business associates licking their lips, leaning forward, and sometimes squirming in their seats for far different reasons then panic or shivers down the spine. It had always been that way between the three, that unbreakable bond. Even as children the trio knew that the direction of their lives together had been nothing more chaotic then destiny itself.

Sax found herself reflecting as her eyes squinted, gun-metal depths tracing the unique pattern of Styx's bloody boot prints as they were smudged beyond recognition as he moved back and forth in his nervous twitch and snap pace. So distant, far far away was Sax in the vision of first meetings between the trio even as the surface of her mind was always acutely aware that something was dreadfully wrong with her confidants. Styx and Stonze would always be her bond mates of murder, and strangely perhaps the qualification of best friends to the strange woman called Saxon Roth.

She had been nine when her father had been murdered, though the papers always had made her to believe he had died of natural causes until recently, leaving Saxon to be an orphan. Her mother had died in childbirth and since no known family would take her she was left to her father's business associates to take care and watch over. It was then that she found Styx and Stonze. They had other names back then, names they no longer went by because Styx believed they truly had transcended those names they had been born with. Their names were their own choices now, and what names they chose would carve their path of life whether that path be wrought in blood and sin, or pain and misery.

Nine when she found the fourteen year old Stonze watching her from the rock cliffs of the forest the three of them would end up running wild in like they were the longing members of Jack and Simon's crew" but here in those dark woods there was no martyrdom, no pig heads on sticks. He had the eyes of a predator that always would leave something burning within her, the way he looked at her perhaps was the same way she looked at him. But she knew" perhaps they both knew" that the way he looked at her could only be a look. To trespass beyond that would mean the loss of everything gained and gathered. To step over that savage line would end in A loss of respect, a break of that sacred bond of understanding and would result in the death of Sax.

Even a kiss would be poison. Altering and shattering the uniform bond that the trio had gathered and collected like shattered pieces of glasses under their nails and skin. The meeting of Styx had come not much later but that was a different story. With Stonze she felt like she was the one watched over and protected, that he was possessive over her. With Styx she felt like she was the one to look over him. He was the most unstable of them all, the worst threat.

A sigh breathed out and she was back in the present day. The heat warmth of Stonze in proximity was a suffocating presence that she never felt she was drowning in but his body heat was always heavy and thick. Gun metal eyes flicked up to him as she managed to break her watch of Styx's restless pacing. The rumble thick thunder and earth of the voice of Stonze came close to her ear.

"It's getting worse in him isn't it?"

"Every single day. We're losing him more and more."

Cancer was a deadly thing, serial killer even worse, but a killer with a brain tumor" well that was just another story unto itself. Silent and solemn the pair watched on side by side in the comfort of proximity. Even death bringers could hear the close ring of the bell, and day by day its thundering clang was looming closer and closer to tolling its death mark for one of them.

The purpose, their direction, their motivation would have to be stepped up.

Time was starting to run out.

The pain of another was exquisite to watch. The fear in the eyes as they realized the last moments of life were slipping away. The acceptance of it finally as they came to terms with everything they wished to know and make amends to.

Sometimes Sax wished nothing more then to ask them what they came to terms with, what they saw at the end. The crossroads of that veil between life and death. The gun-metal shine of her eyes always so bright with fascination as she watched the light die from their eyes, the shiver of delight at the sound of the death rattle.

It distracted her as she watched one of Stonze's recent kills finally give in and accept her death. She had struggled so much that her blood had painted the walls like he had smashed her skull in. He nearly had to as much as the woman became a nuisance. It was a small price to pay for the clean up session that would take place long after those bodies would be in pieces.

So restless and alive with the energy of a new kill, Saxon crawled on the floor to a shine that caught her attention. Closer examination would prove it to be the butcher knife that Styx was so fond of.

"That is mine."

His voice crossed her ears and poured down her spine like ice water as the low growl proved that Styx was still in the reckless, hungry state.

The blade was offered out to him with a smooth smile as a brow arched.

"Of course it is."

The smoky sin of her voice near purred out as his fingers gripped in her hair and she was drawn to stand before him as his bloody touch slicked through the sleek oil black of her hair.

Guarded eyes would take him in, gaze devouring the blood painted vision of him even as he was gripping her to him and his lips were hard on hers to share a bloody kiss.

Only when he released her with a sharp smile of defiance and returned to the canvas of the recent kill of Stonze would she feel the heavy weight of Stonze eyes on her.

Level the gun-metal shine of her eyes would meet his. That carnal hunger flashing in her eyes interwoven with far more dangerous emotions before she looked away and set to doing what she did best. Well....second best. Maybe even third best.

She got to work. Covering up for the boys as she always would.

Dear Mister Fantasy play us a tune Something to make us all happy Do anything take us out of this gloom Sing a song, play guitar Make it snappy You are the one who can make us all laugh But doing that you break out in tears Please don't be sad if it was a straight mind you had We wouldn't have known you all these years *Dear Mr. Fantasy-Traffic*

Midnight and Moonlight.The naked figure of Saxon was swaying to the music playing from that old forgotten juke box. Hips moving provocatively even as she was alive with the awareness of their watching eyes.

Styx and Stonze.

Perhaps it was for them that she danced. High with the nature of Sex and Blood.

Those gun metal eyes were silver violence as her head was thrown back and she felt that hunger crawl through her skin like silver nitrate, mercury pouring hot in her veins.

No clothes to strip down from her body was starved for attention, the subtle curves making her seem a feline coaxing the night out to prowl.

Writhing shadows against her skin and she was smoking out ring circles to the sky. A bottle of whiskey in her hand and she was Kali.

She was Hecate.

She was Lady Death.

Worshipped.

A foot touched to the window frame she danced near, the clove crushed out in an ashtray as those hips worked an offering as she took up one of her boots as her insole flexed against the window.

The sharp hiss of zipper.

The leather cry.

Familiar sounds but she wanted something more raw, something far more carnal to fill her ears...