Chapter Text
It didn't have to end this way.
But Wednesday is glad that it did. It’s late; very late, in fact. She stands in the bathroom of some dingy hotel, in the middle of a nowhere-street, that people would rather watch rot than visit. She wears a dress - bloodied - that shimmers like an oil slick against the cheap fluorescent lights. Wednesday’s hands are gloved, and also soaked from the blood she has tried to clean, but her efforts are fruitless so far. Cleaning a mess like this is often difficult...perhaps it will have to wait. Not that it matters, this bathroom has likely seen much worse. The lights buzz.
In the bathtub, grotty and water-stained, a body lies. It is the body of a man. He is curled awkwardly in the bath basin, his clothing not faring much better than Wednesday’s own. Not to mention that he is bruised and beaten, looking as though mauled by a large animal, barely recognisable as human any more. Wednesday’s own skin is roughened and marred - but she’s the one alive, and not dead in a bathtub. So she wins. A victory as good as any.
Some context is required, perhaps… Wednesday does not murder for fun. Well, kind of. She enjoys it at least, but the enjoyment is not what motivates her. Mostly.
For years, her parents have been making bedfellows of the rich and powerful - seeking out those who are corrupted and ensuring they disappear one way or another. A family side business of sorts. It has been quite lucrative… and a rather enjoyable past time, according to Morticia.
Recently, Wednesday and Enid have joined in. Their recent achievements in the world make for a unique way into the lives of these twisted life wasters. Enid, now a powerful and influential journalist - Whilst Wednesday relishes in the open secret of her writing alias, making influential ‘friends’ as she goes. They are only acquaintances truly (they don’t deserve to be more), but their hubris is what makes them so easy to kill. She even begrudgingly accepts a few ‘nepo baby’ comments from the company she seeks to murder, knowing it will all end with them begging for their life; choking on their blood. Truly, it has been a nonstop whirl of stalking, distracting, and killing ever since they took on the job. Wednesday finds satisfaction in the work; it helps inspire her writing. Even Enid takes to it well, despite her aversion to blood…In fact, she doesn't mind it so much any more - perhaps it is the knowledge that the blood she spills saves many lives more than it destroys…and kills like this, the very one Wednesday stands above now? Well. It certainly crops a branch of corruption off a tree that deserves to be hacked to the ground. Not to mention it brings a sadistic smile to her face.
Wednesday pulls her gloves off; chucks them on top of the body. She grabs a sheet then, shaking it out, and laying it on top. She thinks this body doesn't deserve the dignity… But she also desires to not look at that pathetic face any longer.
Glancing around the bathroom, she makes careful note of what areas need cleaning. She'll come back to it. For now, she wishes to rid herself of this awful dress. Acting as the bait was already a plan she found distasteful, so the disgusting tight dress is only an insult to injury. Enid will like it when she strips, at least.
She looks down at the body.
"It was nice to see you again." She snarks, "Hopefully next time it'll be in hell. Goodbye Xavier."
Wednesday shuffles out of the bathroom, slamming the door behind her unceremoniously. It grabs the attention of Enid, who sits on the bed, fidgeting with an abundance of energy. She smiles brightly as Wednesday emerges from the bathroom, and Wednesday is unsure whether the redness of her cheeks is from a blush or is simply the remaining stain of blood after Enid cleaned herself up. Wednesday does not question it. Enid looks gorgeous. Feral, almost. Free.
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