Ring.

"Hello, Nny."

"Want to go dancing?"

Edgar stood numbly in shock for a few minutes before he could finally force himself to react, finding himself pressing a hand to his head in confusion. Finally he remembered his silence and struggled to find a response.

"I'm sorry, what?"

Edgar's mind went through every expletive he knew in rapid succession as he hoped that what he initially heard had just been a joke by an overly tired brain.

"Dancing. Want to go dancing?"

No, he wasn't kidding.

"Um..." Edgar found his body rushing with adrenaline and he could almost feel himself panicking as he tried to think of something to say. Alternate situations ran through his mind.

Go with Nny get killed stay home get killed go with Nny get trapped in his house get killed god everything ends with me DYING

"This is...kind of sudden." Edgar ran a hand through his hair with quick, nervous energy, looking all around his room as if expecting Johnny to already be there. "I mean..."

"Well, you said it yourself...I'm not happy very often." The excitement and contentment in Johnny's voice was indeed, extremely rare. The thought of going off somewhere intensely pleased him. "So I wanted to go somewhere and have fun."

"Why me?"

You already know the answer.

Johnny paused for only a few moments. "Who else would I ask?"

Edgar had no response for that. In fact, Johnny asking him seemed to make perfect sense. He was the closest thing...actually, no, he was Johnny's friend at this point. Why not ask him to go and have fun with him?

Because he's a PSYCHOTIC MURDERER

Shut up! This isn't helping!

"Why..." Edgar searched around the room as if an answer to his situation was there. "Um, I mean...it...you never wanted to..."

God, if he sees me again, he's going to kill me.

"I..." Johnny paused again, then a peculiar tone entered his voice. "The thought just came to me. So."

You can't say 'no,' Edgar. If you do, he'll think you hate him and kill you. He does know where you live.

What am I supposed to do, say yes? I'll die anyway!

Ah, but you don't know that. Maybe you'll get lucky. Again. It's your only chance at this point.

"Um..." Edgar coughed slightly to clear the nervousness from his voice. "When?

I can't believe this.

"Just wait outside."

Edgar nodded dumbly before finding his voice again. The word jumped from his mouth awkwardly. "Alright."

There was a click at the other end of the line and Edgar hung up the phone slowly.

Almost as if something within him had decided to turn on, Edgar felt a sudden passive resignation in regarding his situation. Why was he so worried? He had nothing to lose anyway...like he had told Johnny before, he had nothing to fear from death.

However, he still feared Johnny.

This passively accepting part of him, the part that had allowed him to wait patiently for death that never came some time before, allowed him to get dressed and ready without having a complete nervous breakdown.

I can't believe this.


It was a relatively average night. Not too cold or too warm, clear without many clouds. There was almost nothing memorable about that night at all. Other than what transpired then.

Irony had been no stranger to Edgar recently.

The weather was lost on Edgar except that he unconsciously put on a trench-coat before he headed out. He wasn't even aware he was wearing it until much later.

He walked out in front of his complex, finding the streets primarily empty. It was not too late at night, but Edgar did not live in an active neighborhood anyway. He felt incredibly small and alone as he ventured out onto the sidewalk hesitantly, aware of every movement that he was making as he looked back and forth, scanning the street repeatedly for Johnny.

Maybe Johnny wouldn't show. That'd be wonderful. Then he could just go back inside and maybe he would not have to do this after all...

Feeling panic rising up in him again, Edgar struggled to relocate the passive side of him that allowed him peace in the most stressful of situations. It took some effort to find but once he allowed it to take control of him, he settled down. He was even able to breathe at a normal pace.

As he stood underneath a streetlight, his hands tucked into his pockets, he stared at the faces of the few who passed by him carefully, as if he would not recognize Johnny the moment he saw him.

You don't come face to face with death and then forget what he looks like.

Sighing softly to himself, Edgar leaned back against the metal pole, moving his attention downwards, staring down at his shoes distractedly. Filled with nervous energy, he felt conflicted and trapped. How much longer would this take...? Anticipation was only making this worse...

He remembered the noise vaguely from when he had first struggled to wake from unconsciousness in that dark basement. The distinctive sound that Johnny's unique boots made as he walked. However, this was not what alerted him to Johnny's presence initially.

He had been leaning against the pole silently when he felt a sudden prickling all over his body. He could feel the hairs on his arm rising and he shivered slightly.

Although cliche, it was almost accurate to say it was the equivalent of someone walking over Edgar's grave. A phrase that meant more than he would have liked at that time.

When he felt the shivering goosebumps come over him, he knew that Johnny was near. He knew before he heard him, but he was not sure why. He turned and watched as Johnny slowly came into view.

The maniac had his hands in his pockets as well, although there was a thin black cord leading from his small earphones down into one of them. He was bobbing back and forth just slightly, soft and slow movements. The expression on his face was one that Edgar could only guess from what he had heard over the phone. It was the contended, happy expression that he had never seen.

It was not frightening like the manic smile he had seen before. But it was unnerving. It seemed very out of place on someone like Johnny.

As Johnny came closer to him, Edgar found that he had unconsciously raised one of his hands to again to feel underneath his eyes. This was becoming a habit.

For a moment, he felt a sharp renewal of stinging as his fingers grazed the wounds, but Edgar wrote it off as superstition and fear and forced his hand downward.

Johnny continued walking, almost making his way past Edgar before he halted, staring off into space thoughtfully until he turned to face him. One hand came free from his pocket, the thin claw-like fingers pointing at him lazily.

Johnny smiled in the peculiarly psychotic way that Edgar was, sadly, familiar with.

"Edgar, right?"

"Yes." This was becoming familiar. "Nny."

Johnny paused, inclining his head the scarred man for a moment, looking at him thoughtfully. Thankfully the distant, appraising look from his capture was gone. Johnny only looked curious. "Wh..." He snapped his fingers. "Right. I remember now."

Not surprisingly, Edgar felt a tinge of irritation and indignance at the fact that Johnny had forgotten about the marks under his eyes. This very quickly subsided into quiet acceptance.

What did you expect?

Edgar looked around nervously, although he was not sure for what. "Where are we going?"

Johnny stared at him, studying how he was reacting in a very amused fashion. He was still smiling in that psychotic way as well. Edgar felt increasingly uncomfortable.

"The club."

"Yes...but which one?"

Johnny stood silently, watching Edgar for a few moments before he slowly turned in a circle, his arms outstretched. He turned back to Edgar, enjoying the confused expression on his face. "There are so many."

Johnny had to know he was doing this. He had to be aware that he was confusing and frightening Edgar to no end. With the slight bit of resolve that had formed out of his previous indignation, Edgar decided he wouldn't give Johnny that satisfaction.

"There's one a few blocks from here..." Edgar turned and pointed with one hand, although he was roughly estimating. He had never been in that club, but he had passed it several times. "That's always an option."

"Good point." Slowly the smile on Johnny's face became more natural as he turned in the direction Edgar had indicated. His hand returned to his pocket and Edgar could hear the faintly muffled strains of music coming from Johnny's earphones.

As Johnny started walking, Edgar had no choice but to follow.

Why did he invite you along if he's just going to ignore you?

I don't know.

That's a first.


Sometimes, a small thing can alter fate. Something like the flap of a butterfly's wing can change things across the world. The paradox of alternate realities, the many chances and things that could and might have been. If only one thing had happened or the other, if only one change, one moment could be redone, then maybe things would have been different. If you could go back and relive that moment and do something differently, history as you know it may have been changed.

So much depends on so little.

Sometimes, a little thing can change something. Something that you may never have thought of. Something unexpected, unnoticed. Something like, say, a person's presence, can change how history was supposed to occur. Can alter fate's chosen path.

However, this was not one of those times.

The two of them were walking some distance apart, mainly by Johnny's choosing, when they happened to pass a café.

Edgar was not sure if Johnny could hear, considering how loud he had his music, but apparently some higher power had decided that Johnny would indeed, hear what the people outside the café had to say.

"Excuse me?"

Both of them paused in response to the short question. Johnny stood completely still, staring at them with a kind of expectancy while Edgar hovered behind him, again finding himself filled with nervous energy. While Johnny was merely confused at the question, Edgar was immediately concerned for the speaking person's safety.

If Edgar was not safe with Johnny, this person certainly was not.

"Yes?" Johnny's voice held more malice than he had used with Edgar. Had he lightened his voice to speak with him or did he merely already find this person irritating? It was hard to tell.

"Hey, do you have a cigarette?"

That was a fairly innocent question. Edgar's hopes for the conversation brightened somewhat.

"No, I don't smoke."

The man turned towards Edgar, who, at a loss for words, could only shake his head in response.

A very short silence ensued which Johnny apparently interpreted as the end of the conversation. As Johnny began walking again, the man turned to one of his companions.

"Did you hear that? Fags don't smoke."

Johnny did hear that.

That was an interesting choice of words.

Why are you thinking of that NOW?

Johnny stopped dead, turning and walking back to the table slowly. The two present stared up at him smugly, apparently fully aware of what impact their words were meant to have.

Irony was no stranger tonight. At that moment, Edgar was more frightened than either of the two sitting at the table could have or should have been.

Johnny stared at them silently, apparently trying to decide what to do or say. It was somewhat reminiscient of the expression and inner conflict he had felt over his decision to not kill Edgar originally.

Of course, Edgar doubted that 'not killing someone' was an option at this point.

The silence seemed to drag on forever and Edgar felt his skin prickling again. Despite his internal reaction, he found that his passive side had managed to retain control with his facial features. This actually proved beneficial as Johnny turned to stare at him, studying his expression carefully.

It was a good thing he did not look frightened. He seriously doubted it would help.

Quick, think of something to say.

Edgar shrugged.

I can't even think of any words to respond to that.

Johnny moved his dark eyes from Edgar to the people at the table several times, much to their general amusement, as he apparently finally decided something. His gaze settled on the two who still looked back at them mockingly.

"I was just going to pass this place by, in favor of the dance-club up the street. I'll do the club tomorrow."

Danger. Danger in every single syllable.

Edgar recognized that tone of voice.

Johnny turned to Edgar once again, staring at him silently, struggling to control his frustration and anger in his facial expression without success. Edgar did not know how to interpret his silence, but simply stared back at him, again at a loss for words.

Johnny's eyes narrowed and Edgar watched his fist clench tightly. Unable to halt his natural reaction, Edgar unconsciously took a step backwards, not wanting to be close to Johnny at this moment.

"I'd stay out here if I were you."

Still dangerous, sharp words, but Johnny's voice changed tone subtly when he spoke to him. Not that Edgar was in the most rational of mindsets at that moment to truly analyze it. He only nodded in response. The two at the table found this amusing, smirking to themselves as Johnny made his way into the café with very slow, deliberate steps, his hands held behind his back.

Edgar was not taking any chances.

Ignoring the jibes of the two left outside, he struggled to walk away calmly. He did not stop until he was almost a block away, looking back occasionally to watch the area he had left with a sense of foreboding. How far would be a safe distance? If Johnny was about to go on a rampage, and it was made incredibly clear to Edgar that that was exactly what he was going to do, how far would Edgar have to go? What would be a safe distance?

He did not want it to look as if he had run away. That would not look favorably on him. Then again, he did not want to be unintentionally killed by accident. Despite Johnny's supposed friendship with him, Edgar did not trust him at all. Especially concerning his life.

Finally idling to a stop, he found himself wondering about what had happened. Why had those two lashed out at them without any motivation...?

Something within him told Edgar that it was not anything they had specifically done. Johnny had spoken about the general hatefulness of human nature...it had become something of a fixation for him. While Johnny did seem to be insane, it seemed that sometimes his crimes were not entirely without motive.

Something peculiar...something strange. Edgar almost felt that, if he had not been passing by with Johnny, this would not have happened. Those two at the café would have looked at him and looked away. Edgar was that normal...but something about Johnny...something about him seemed to attract these terrible people.

That was an interesting theory for his psychosis anyway. In a way, then maybe it was not Johnny's fault afterall.

That was an uncomfortable idea.

Edgar sat down, back against another streetlight, as he could faintly hear the screams of the dying and the living from the ill-fated café.

Slight guilt.

Was there anything I could have done to prevent this?

Better question - would you really have wanted to?

Edgar looked upwards, as if to find the source of his now constant inner voice, but, as expected, found nothing. "I've got to stop talking to myself..."

That was ironic.

Shut up.

An explosion rocked the street and Edgar could see Johnny's silhouetted gleefully against the billowing smoke.

With another sigh, Edgar crossed his arms over his knees.

Definitely not a good idea.


"I like your coat."

"Hn?" Edgar turned towards him. The first words from Johnny since the slaughter were the last thing that he expected. "My...?"

Edgar looked down and he was, indeed, wearing his trenchcoat. When had he put this on? That was disconcerting.

"Oh...thank you, I guess."

Johnny had met up with him after the explosion as if nothing had happened, although he did seem a lot happier afterwards. In fact, he was more pleased than he had seemed at the beginning of the night.

Killing made him feel good.

That was a disturbing thought.

Johnny had not spoken with Edgar, but his expression told him that Edgar was, for the moment, safe. The fact that Johnny had voluntarily joined his company again implied that Johnny still wanted to be around him, although Edgar could not think of a reason why.

And so silence had reigned between them as they had walked away. Edgar could not hear Johnny's music through his headphones, but he guessed that he had it on. The pauses were painful to Edgar, almost begging for him to fill them with something, but they had no effect on Johnny. Then again, he seemed to be familiar with long silences, as their conversations on the phone had proved.

The first words out of Johnny's mouth since the massacre had been about his coat. Edgar's coat that he did not even remember putting on.

This has to be the most bizarre night of my life.

"I always wanted a coat like that." Johnny's tone was light and carefree, much along the same tone he used when speaking about the deceased clerk at the convenience store. "I could never find one."

Edgar wasn't sure how to respond, then decided that he should at least try to sound natural. "They're not too hard to find...I have the receipt somewhere, I'm sure...I can always look it up for you later."

"Later, yes..."

You just said you wanted to see him later.

...I did, didn't I?

"Where are we going now?" Although Edgar had been walking alongside Johnny, he was still following his lead. He had not felt comfortable asking where they were going considering the awkward silence, but now that it had been broken... "We aren't going to still go dancing, right?"

Still go dancing sounded so...awkward.

"N..." Johnny apparently had not thought of this. "No. I don't feel like it anymore. But we can still do something tonight, I guess."

He had no other plans.

It was only Edgar's familiarity with popular culture's portrayal of relationships that gave him a frame of reference. The idea that Johnny was not familiar with them. Then again, Edgar was not a social butterfly by any means.

"Where are we going, though?"

This was followed by silence, Johnny walking alongside him, hunched over, hands still tucked into his pockets. He stared fixedly at his boots as they rose and fell on the sidewalk.

So...this is what he does during those silences.

Edgar usually found something in his room to toy with while he waited for Johnny to say something, but this time he only had the repetitive motion of walking. Unsatisfied, he took off his glasses, rubbing non-existant dirt off of them, before replacing them again, hoping that the silence would not last much longer.

It's so much more uncomfortable in person...

Johnny twitched slightly and he turned to Edgar, the pleased look still present. It was comforting in a way, but seemed so unnatural. "There's something I want to pick up at the house..."

"Oh..."

Here's your chance. Pay attention to how you got here and maybe...

...How did I get here?

Figures.

"Alright."

"There's always the movies..." Johnny sounded incredibly distant, apparently the thought having reminded him of something else, something distracting. "I'm sure there's something on tonight..."

"Alright." Edgar was not really a movie person, but he was not about to refuse. "Fine with me."

Johnny smiled to himself in response, and the two continued in silence.

Try as he may, Edgar could not find any landmarks as he walked along. Nothing looked familiar to him and everything was so nondescript, he could not mark anything for future reference. They had walked down so many streets during that first long silence that he had not been paying attention. He was not sure where they were now and he was positive that he could not remember their path.

I hope I'll be able to get home...

Edgar could again hear faint music coming from Johnny's direction. In a way, it seemed that Edgar was alone again. That was alright.

He did not want to go back to Johnny's house, but if it was only to retrieve something that seemed to be alright. He didn't want to spend too much time in there, if at all possible.

So far, this night had not gone too badly for him personally. Instantly recoiling at the thought, Edgar sought to justify it in a more logical way.

An unknown amount of people had been killed, but that had not been Edgar's fault and there was nothing he could have done. So...on the whole, the night had not been too bad.

He stood on the doorstop as Johnny opened his front door, standing there silently for a moment. Was he letting Edgar in first? That was...peculiar.

The house was still the same and still smelt of death, blood, and cherries, although there were new blood stains on the carpet and some glass shards scattered around. The decaying rabbit was still attached to one wall, along with the other bizarre odds and ends that Johnny had collected over time.

So far, nothing had changed.

Once Johnny got whatever it was he needed, Edgar would be able to leave and the night would continue on as usual. They would go see a movie, say goodbye to one another, and Edgar would make his way home without incident, hopefully having something close to a good time in the process.

Maybe this wasn't such a bad idea after all.

The first crushing blow to the back of Edgar's head was enough to cause him intense pain, a sudden loss of vision, and an incredible sense of vertigo, but it was not enough to render him unconscious. Edgar was dimly aware of crying out shortly in pain in response to the attack, able to faintly recall seeing the stained carpet heading up towards him before the second strike fell.

Two was enough.