Title: "Silly"
Summary: Tamara's fate was in her hands, painted in the guise of trust.
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Tamara. Scorpion. Mentions of the Painted Doll.
Warning(s): Scorpion's sass. I don't think this is…a dark fic, might be, I'm not sure.
Disclaimer: I own none of this franchise. None. At all. If you haven't seen the movie…this might contain spoilers.


Scorpion danced along the dim lit room. His boots barely made a scuffle, or a squeak. Each movement is like the previous, skilled and graceful. He's not as good as Wick, but he's close. He'd like to think so.

The Wheel is still to the wall, where Tamara is still strapped.

He'd almost forgotten about her. His trusting drear. She was so beautiful, even in tears. He waltzed up to her, not too close as his fingers ghosted over the knife that stuck to her chest, half way in and cleanly cut. It was a masterpiece.

The Scorpion ignored the Painted Doll's stare. Though those eyes of hers stung, glued to his back, he kept his eyes off her and, instead, on Tamara.

"Miss me?" He asked her, and, of course, silence answered him. A sigh, "My darling dear."

He slid his hand over the chest of Tamara. The knife came out with one quick yank, blood dripped, dripped onto his boots.

His eyes on Tamara.

Her lifeless eyes watched him. They were so clear, he could have sworn he saw his reflection. When he stared a moment longer-yes. The Scorpion could see himself in Tamara's stare. His hair looked fantastic.

Tamara failed to compliment him however.

His darling dear.

He looked at the knife, then at her, "Silly dear…."

The Scorpion started to dance again. He took a cloth out, and cleaned his knife. There were still other acts to perform, and not just his knife act either.

Oh, no, he had more to do-it brought a tear to his eye…well…almost near.

Another will be strolled into the Carnival.

Into his pin.

"This will not hurt a bit." The Scorpion will assure them.

"Trust me."