Disclaimer: I own nothing, not the superstars featured nor the song in the beginning. That one is "Crazy Eddie's Last Hurrah" by Cross Canadian Ragweed.

Mild violence, language and anguish to follow. Brace yourself and enjoy~

"And now I'm wishin' for some drugs

Or a shrink to console me
But I'm never gettin' over Jolie.."

It was the song that soundtracked the entire drive here on repeat. Kane knew all the words by now. He kept the car running, the song playing, long after he'd parked in front of Christian Cage's house.

He hadn't even needed much help finding this place. The fool Christian himself had uploaded a video on Youtube detailing the look of his living quarters. His "crib", he called it. Inside and out—Kane even knew what to expect in the neighborhood, the driveway. There was the black '06 Jeep Commander. He knew he was in the right place.

"Well I gathered up all of my guns

And a pipe bomb just for fun

And I drove to her house and parked on the lawn

She's right, I always was a crazy one.."

That was his favorite verse in the song. But he wasn't armed himself with any guns. He had a kendo stick in the trunk that would serve him purposefully tonight. He wasn't here to kill anyone—just spark a little fear. Cause a little pain.

Extract some merited revenge.

Not even on Christian. The guy had been out for a bit now due to a neck injury. No, Christian was merely an instrument. An aid. A pawn.

The vengeance was on Edge. Probably yukking it up somewhere in his own home. Kane wouldn't see him again until Raw on Monday night.

Giving him two full days to pull this off.

Plenty of time.

"Well her boyfriend was sure nice to me

He said, calm down, would you like a drink?

And then I shot him full of holes from his nose to his knees

And I polished off my little sweet pea."

Kane waited until the end of the song. Let the lyrics beckon him. Crazy Eddie guided him. Then he shut the vehicle off. Popped the trunk to make some room. Removing his tools did the trick—the kendo stick, a thick roll of duct tape, a screwdriver, and a video camera.

He slammed the trunk door shut and sauntered towards the side of the house where he knew there was a window. Perfect entrance. He wasn't about to play Big Bad Wolf and knock on the door, knowing that damn little pig wouldn't let him in. This had to be a surprise. All part of the fun.

Kane hummed "Crazy Eddie's Last Hurrah" on his way.

"And I drove to her house and parked on the lawn

She's right, I always was a crazy one.."

Christian Cage was nodding off on his couch when he heard the slam.

His eyes flit open. He was still alone in the living room, catching a repeat of Smackdown, smiling through Edge's segment with Kane and that satanic lard Paul Bearer. He missed it. He would have given anything to be there.

Like the good old days.

He heard another noise. Shuffling of some kind. What the hell was that? Sounded like the claws of a tiny animal skittering across the wooden floors.

A squeak following the shuffling convinced him to finally investigate.

Christian pushed off the couch with a grunt. Pressure of any sort anywhere on his upper body prompted singing pain beneath his neck brace. Even leaning forward to mute the television and stand up proved to be difficult. I feel so inept, he thought.

"Hello?" Christian called, expecting no answer from what was most likely an unwelcome guest from the rodent family. The front door was shut, still locked at the top. The main hall was empty. He scavenged the area, eyes skimming over the light-colored floors.

He rounded the corner into the dining room and froze. Near literally. A gust of winter wind blustered through the wide open window.

Christian hadn't opened the window. Why the hell would he have? It was December.

Meaning…

Someone else had.

A chill unrelated to the frigid winds carrying through his home made his spine tremble. The hair on his arms and neck bristled, goosebumps sprouting on the taut skin.

He turned around and called again with an arid throat, "H-hello?"

This time he got an answer. "Hello, Christian."

Christian gasped. Standing in the corner of the unlit dining room was a seven-foot tall beast with a clean-shaven, vein-daubed head and three-hundred and twenty-three pounds of muscle. The Big Red Machine. Kane.

What was scarier than finding Kane in your house was finding Kane in your house, smiling at you.

Even more traumatizing than that was when he smiled with a video camera in one hand and a kendo stick in the other.

Fight-or-flight kicked in, and Christian opted for flight. He was futile against Kane tonight with his injuries.

Before he could bolt, Kane seized Christian by the neck brace and tore the protective device off. He wrapped his meaty fingers around Christian's tender neck and choke slammed him to the ground.

Christian's entire back absorbed the impact. His head hadn't cracked against the floor, a miracle. Pain burgeon through his core like flowers in the spring, radiating, burning, throbbing, thrumming his body to stiffness.

Kane loomed over him, a shadow in an already dark room. His smile was pearly, glowing. Christian could see it through narrowed eyes.

He hoisted Christian to his feet, clenched his neck again—the healing process had probably been set back a year or two—and executed another gruesome choke slam. This time Christian's head did smack against the floor, blackening his vision, screwing with his perception. Adrenaline conducted in his veins but of course he couldn't move.

And Kane had done it all with one hand. The other upheld the video camera. The bastard was recording this.

"P-please," he tried, esophagus ablaze with pained cries. "W-what do you w-want…?"

"Don't worry about that," Kane said, voice gravelly. "You're giving it to me."

Right hand holding the camera, Kane raised the kendo stick high above his head like the staff of Moses. Christian's eyes bulged from their sockets as he brought the rod down like a whip, striking Christian in the ribcage. He cried out, arms flying over his chest to protect vital organs—it earned them a few clouts of their own. But better his arms than his ribs or his heart.

Down came the kendo stick over and over again, the hand holding the camera never shifting from a still position as the recording device captured each blow, each desperate shout from Christian's lungs, each whoosh as the stick sailed through the air and each whack as it thrashed Christian somewhere else. He was targeted everywhere: arms, sides, ribs, gut, knees, calves, ankles…everywhere except his throbbing cranium. His arms flailed as they had no idea where to go next to protect the rest of his body. Hundreds of tiny volcanoes erupted within Christian, pain flaring from too many places, too much, all at once. He wanted to pass out. He begged to pass out, just to make the pain stop.

The final crack of the kendo stick came down onto his face, splitting his nose bone in more than one place. Blood expelled from his muzzle, gliding in thick droplets down both cheeks and amassing on the floor.

Everything hurt. Everything. Pain consumed him from the inside out. To move at all hurt. Breathing hurt. Existing hurt.

Kane squatted down and shoved the camera into Christian's face. "Say hi to Edge for me, Christian."

"Edge?" Christian managed to croak out. It sounded awful. Especially across Kane's lips. "Wh-where—wh-what—" He closed his eyes, hoping to just go under and end this suffering. But he had a new drive now. A drive to focus. Stay awake for just a little while longer. Kane had apprehended him in a new way. "Where's Edge?" he impelled from what felt like bruised lungs. His eyes drew open by some incredible feat.

"Unbelievable," Kane said with a tsk-tsk-tsk to follow. "Look at where you're at, Christian, all that's happening to you. And you're worried about him? I'd worry about you right now."

"Where is he?" Christian woofed.

Kane rolled his eyes, but his face said amused. "He's in there. Right in there." He tapped a dirty fingernail against the camera lens. "Look right there for me. See him? Have anything to say to your best friend?"

Christian's eyes hovered from the camera, back up to Kane, then down once more. It was impossible to avoid sight of the damn thing with it pressed into his face like this. He was used to cameras following him up-close, but come on. This was just cold.

"Nothing?" Kane mused.

Christian closed his mouth. Closed his eyes. Whatever this game was, he was not about to take part. Not if he could help it.

And he couldn't.

"Good night, then," Kane said. A swift kick of his foot into Christian's skull, and at last Christian foundered in a merciful black unconsciousness.

Edge was feeling good.

He had a Triple Threat match tonight against Alberto Del Rio and Kane. What seemed to be the same match over and over again was actually the opportunity for Edge to learn more and more about his opponents. How he moved, the way he operated in the ring step by step. Soon he'd have ADR and that bloody demon all figured out, and perhaps a record winning time.

Edge's entrance was first. His blaring entrance music rocked the arena, and the WWE live audience appraised him as loudly as they heckled him. Haters didn't phase him. His true fans were all that mattered. That, and a well-earned WWE world heavyweight championship. He stood center ring, arms high in the air, loving the crowd as much as they loved him, neglecting anyone who might have felt differently.

Alberto Del Rio arrived next. Edge leaned against the ropes, eager and impatient with Del Rio's entrance, his time consumption, even his music. Yeah, yeah, yeah, we've all seen this before. Nothing special. Moving on.

Fire exploded beneath the TitanTron. The arena glowed red like blood. Satan organ music resounded off the shaking walls. Kane's entrance is what got his blood whisking, his heart knocking against his ribcage. He was anxious for this. Not frightened, but antsy. He knew Kane had a bone to pick with him after that longterm stunt he pulled with Paul Bearer as a petrified old hostage. Bearer wasn't around now. All thanks to Kane. He couldn't even blame Edge—Edge had tried to warn him it wasn't a dummy Kane was about to throw off a ladder!

But Kane was itching to get him back. Edge knew this to be true. Perhaps tonight, now, within this match. He was ready.

But Kane never came out.

His entrance carried on till its end, explosions, fire, flashing lights, sinister music. But he was nowhere to be seen.

Edge looked towards his other opponent, Del Rio. He looked just as baffled as Edge felt. Edge redirected his focus to the front of the stadium. Waiting. Wondering what the hell was up.

The red lights faded to a dim setting, taking the house lights down with them. The arena was calm now, quiet, dull. The TitanTron lit to life with an unexpected video—and a horrendous opening.

Christian standing in his house, back to the camera, facing an open window.

Edge blinked. What?

"Hello?" called his voice, brimming with alarm.

"Hello, Christian."

Kane's voice. Very distinct. Menacing. He was working the camera.

"NO!" Edge cried out in fury as he witnessed Kane choke slamming Christian, the already-damaged body of his best friend smashing into the floor inside his own home.

Then again.

"STOP! LEAVE HIM ALONE!" Edge hollered, though Kane obviously couldn't hear him.

Christian was begging for mercy. Already the confident, cocksure Christian was imploring an attacker to stop hurting him. Naturally, Kane didn't comply. Instead he commenced with a new attack: brutally and ruthlessly bombarding Christian with a kendo stick. Over. And over. And over again.

Edge was hysteric. His fingers yanked and tore at his hair, when they weren't throttling the top rope. He paced the ring's floor back and forth. He screamed aloud, knowing he couldn't be heard by the monster blitzing Christian—and documenting the entire ordeal. What could he do about it? This had obviously already happened out of his control. It was over and done with, as far as Edge knew…even if it was a live broadcast, he had no possible way to make it from here to Christian's house in a matter of seconds to murder the Big Red Machine for laying a hand on Christian…

No matter how badly it hurt him to watch this, Edge couldn't shred his line of sight from the colossal screen. Like driving by a horrific car accident. Blood. Smoke. Pain. Possible death. Yet it couldn't be ignored, turned a blind eye to.

Kane knocked the camera into Christian's face, mangled from his pain from his tired eyes to his twisted lips. "Say hi to Edge for me, Christian."

"I'll kill you, Kane!" Edge thundered. His molars nearly cracked from the tightly-clamped jaw. "I SWEAR TO GOD I'LL KILL YOU! DO YOU HEAR ME?"

Of course he couldn't. So Edge thought.

He'd screamed over whatever Christian said next, and part of whatever Kane was now droning on about so peacefully. So loosely. Like this was nothing but leisure for him. It aggravated Edge all the more. "… you're worried about him? I'd worry about you right now."

"Where is he?" Christian snarled. The strive to be strong worked against his physical weakness. Edge could silently praise his friend for forward bravery.

"He's in there. Right in there. Look right there for me," Kane instructed his victim, smudging the camera lens with a touch. "See him? Have anything to say to your best friend?"

Edge was on his knees by this point in the video, too weak and weary to stay standing. Watching Christian inadvertently watch him helplessly through the glass drove him further down, to all fours, as his head craned up to watch the screen. He pulled himself back to his knees, winding his elbows over the middle rope. His heart was plowing into his ribs now. Each breath had to be taken in quickly, sharply, or else he'd pass out with a lack of oxygen. Shock wrung him speechless.

"Nothing?" Kane asked.

Christian didn't say a word. Edge bit his lip. He could taste blood.

"Good night, then," Kane sang.

He knocked Christian out with a kick to the skull. Christian slumped over, arms above his head, head hanging to the side.

"NO!" Edge yelped like he'd been the one kicked. Assaulted. Left for dead. Tears blended with sweat, careening down his cheeks. He couldn't even sound strong anymore. He was angry, of course he was angry, but his aggression was crippled by true terror.

Kane twisted the camera around to his own smirking face. "See you Monday, Edge." The video ended. Screen cut to black.

Edge released the rope and flumped to his hands and knees again, head hanging low, tears filling his eyes behind his squished lids. Del Rio had cleared the ring long before. The entire arena was quiet, all signs of life and noise deadened by their own take of panic.

"You son of a bitch," Edge pushed through gritted teeth. I knew you were just dying to get your revenge after I kidnapped your old man…but why Christian? Why not me? You could have done anything you wanted to me…why did you target him?

Edge knew why. Regret scorched deep in his gut. Remorse and even guilt. Christian had been targeted because of him. This was all on Edge, what he'd done to Kane's father Paul Bearer.

He would have taken all that happened to Christian thrice over if it meant protecting his friend when he had the chance.

Kane's voice filled the stadium with a rumbling laugh. Edge looked up. There he was, in person and live, far too late for any match previously scheduled. He looked giddy, swinging with every step, taking a stand in the middle of the floor, beneath the screen.

Edge had the urge to stand up, plant himself on his feet, look high and mighty and strong and invincible. But Kane could see him for how he truly was. What he truly felt. He'd probably witnessed Edge's breakdown from beginning to end, watching as a shadow in the background.

In spite of Kane's thoughts of him, Edge stood up anyway.

"This," he said, pointing a finger towards the ring. "This was beautiful, Edge. You've given me a treat tonight. Watching you break down crying like that, losing your mind over that kid?" He jerked a thumb towards the screen which had featured said "kid" getting beaten and dismantled. "That was almost enough for me." He held his thumb and forefinger millimeters apart and knitted his brows. "Just barely reached my satisfactory levels. Don't worry, Edge—just a little more suffering, and I should be done."

"Shut the hell up," Edge gnarled, nostrils flaring like an agitated animal. He was on the prowl now. Time to hunt. It was Kane season.

"What's that?" Kane asked, cupping a hand over his ear. "I couldn't quite hear you—"

"I SAID SHUT UP!" Edge screamed, nearly ricocheting off the ropes as he threw himself against them, strangling the top rope with both hands. "I WILL END YOU!" But charging Kane would be inefficacious now. What was the point of an attack he could see coming from all the way down the walkway? Beads of sweat dotted Edge's forehead and hairline, and he wiped them away with the back of his hand. Who else can I hurt that means so much to you, Kane, to pay you back for this?

"Don't get too worked up just yet, hotshot. I've got another surprise for you."

Edge went stiff in place. Another surprise? Regarding Christian? Please, God, no, the guy had been through enough already.

"You see, off-camera when I was beating the daylights out of young Christian—this was way after that, though," he mentioned, waving towards the screen again. "I had him to myself for two whole days, keep that in mind."

Edge's body twitched, jerking violently after freezing in place at Kane's announcement. He couldn't stand still. He paced the mat again.

"Anyway, he said to me, 'Kane, Mr. Kane, sir, there's nothing I'd like more than to return to Monday Night Raw and be reunited with my old pal Edge.' Of course, he has a broken neck, so I told him, 'Christian, my boy, you should probably stay home and get some rest. We wouldn't want your career to end, would we? And especially not your life.'"

This guy's nuts! He's off his rocker!

Kane leered through his next words. "But he was desperate. Begging me. You heard him before. He begged me to bring him back here. Come say hi to you in person. He misses you, Edge. Look past all the arguments you guys have had. Those pointless quarrels, the silly bickering that make the two of you sound like an old married couple. Look past that, and remember what you have in him, Edge. He's your best friend, isn't he? Your brother. You love him. You miss him, too. Admit it."

Ah, that was the point of this bullshit act—worming his way into Edge's brain to taunt him, exploit their friendship, harness Edge's weakness for Kane's barbarous personal gain. The worst part was, it was working. Edge was trembling with fused ire and despair. The dread was once more winning the battle of emotions, as he had no idea where Christian was or what Kane's "surprise" was.

He had a feeling and he was dreading finding out.

"So I complied. Wasn't that nice of me?" Kane asked. "I brought him back here, to see you. And he was on his merry way when he ran into a little…trouble backstage." He lowered the microphone from his lips. Guess he was done talking for now. The illumination of the TitanTron surfaced again, presenting a new distressing image, footage clearly more recent than the last, that made Edge's heart plop into his stomach and burn screaming in the acid.

The Undertaker had a trembling, miserable Christian in a feeble chokehold, not one that Christian could easily tear from in his condition, but loose enough to avoid snapping his neck and killing him off right here and now in front of all these people and Edge. It made sense. What good would dead leverage make against Edge? Unless Kane was just that sadistic…

Edge's throat closed up at the sight of the Undertaker. It was literally impossible for Edge to breathe for several seconds. Brothers of Destruction, together again, raising hell. Paul Bearer meant something to both of them. This, Edge should have seen coming.

"My big brother's been in and out of here sporadically for a while now," Kane said. "He might be getting a little rusty. That was our concern. I told him he could get some practice in, and he agreed to it if I could fetch him a dummy. So."

'Taker must have heard what Kane was saying, because he suddenly twirled Christian in a death grip until he was dangling upside down. Perfectly positioned for a Tombstone. The audience shrieked at this, but Edge's exclaims rang louder than theirs.

"NO! Okay, okay, okay, that's enough, please don't do it, 'Taker, Kane, don't…" A Tombstone in Christian's state would definitely end his career. Death was all too likely as well. Edge couldn't chance it. He'd do anything. A fact made loud and known to Kane immediately. He was no longer standing. He collapsed to his knees. Defeated. "Don't hurt him again. Please." He shook his head frantically from side to side.

Kane was thriving on it. Basking in it. "It's not up to me, kiddo. It's up to 'Taker there. And he doesn't look too keen on waiting around."

Edge ran a hand over his mouth. What do they want from me!? What do they want me to do!? His own thoughts were making him quake with vexation.

Kane seemed to have mastered the superpower of mind-reading, for his next words were, "You want him? Go on back and get him."

Edge was so unsure of leaving the ring right away. He was afraid one wrong move would get Christian's neck fractured once more. But he needed to get back there. Protect him. Save him. Edge crept out of the ring, slinking towards Kane. He frightened Edge, truly frightened him the closer Edge drew to him. But he didn't move from place. Just watched him with bemused eyes. Once Edge shuffled past the Big Red Machine, his amble quickened to a jog, then a full-on run.

He'd recognized the area where 'Taker was standing with Christian. The photographs in frames on the walls, even the colors of those walls. He knew where he was going, and he couldn't get there quick enough.

Edge rounded a corner and yelled out bitterly, "'TAKER!"

Undertaker was looming just down the corridor. A camera was set up in front of him, revealing to the world what he was up to. Christian was still his hostage, still dangling upside-down in a pending Tombstone, but his face was turned out towards Edge instead of towards his adversary, and 'Taker hung him mere inches off the ground rather than his usual measure of over a foot. Christian's face was crimson with the blood rushing to his head. That was not good in his health, or current lack thereof.

Edge raised two hands to surrender. Couldn't risk a thing, not a thing. He'd lost this one. He knew that long ago. All he could do now was venture to protect his best friend from further harm.

"'Taker. Please. I'm sorry." He felt treacherous, for whatever reason, apologizing for something he wasn't sorry for in the least. It had been fun at the time to screw with Kane. Now he was humbled. "Let him go…you can have me, you can do whatever you want to me. I'm the one who kidnapped your father, not Christian. It was all me."

Edge wasn't sure if the Undertaker was annoyed or as amused as Kane was by his emotional foundering.

"Don't take it out on him anymore. Please," he was quick to add, not wanting the Deadman to believe he was being ordered around by an incapable victim. "Just let him go."

'Taker furrowed his brows.

Christian gasped. "EDGE!" he groaned.

Edge sensed danger but he had no time to react to the cry. Kane had tiptoed behind him without a sound, and now he found himself in the strong arms of the Deadman's brother. Time moved faster than his brain was processing it. He was dangling upside down in a locked grip and before he knew it, Kane engineered a Tombstone on him. Edge's head rattled against the floor, and his entire body subsided to the hard ground like a building in an earthquake. He couldn't move. Didn't want to even if he could. Each breath in was stabbing, every exhale noisy with a moan.

The Undertaker did not Tombstone Christian. He merely dropped him to the floor like a rag doll. It hurt, sure, but anything was better than the Deadman's notorious finisher.

The Brothers of Destruction hung over the fallen Edge and Christian. Looked to each other with a nod. Now things were even. Now the brothers were satisfied.

They made off at a slow pace, leaving the boys behind.

Edge waited until they were out of sight and long gone before crawling towards Christian. He couldn't move much faster than an old turtle, but he pushed himself further and further, a little stronger and weaker all at once with every push, until reaching Christian. Edge pushed himself to a sitting position. He rolled Christian onto his back and drew Christian's head into his lap, a better pillow than the floor. Christian's eyes were closed as if sewn that way permanently, but he was moving. In the slightest. An incredible sign.

"Christian," Edge breathed.

"Edge," Christian grunted. His eyes flickered open, peering up into Edge's.

Edge stooped down, curving his body in half to cradle Christian as best he could from this position. "Christian, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry…it was all my fault…they used you against me and it wasn't fair…"

"I know. They're bastards."

Edge laughed pitifully.

"You didn't do this to us, Edge. You didn't tell them to beat the hell out of me for shits and giggles. This isn't your fault."

"Feels like it." Edge chewed the inside of his cheek. Tears were surfacing in his eyes again.

"Well, too late to change things now. Can't go back and time and kick the crap out of Kane for breaking into my house, or unkidnap Paul Bearer…"

"'Unkidnap'?"

"It's a word now, shut up."

Edge laughed again. It felt good in spite of physical consequences.

"We can't do anything now except either mope or pick ourselves up and carry on with the job and all its sweet perks it has to offer."

"You're hurt," Edge noted. "Hard to carry on like that."

"Eh...I'll be back in no time." His eyes were closed again, but he was smiling weakly. A dim light in a dark room. "Then you and me can raise a little hell ourselves, how does that sound? Brothers of Destruction won't know what hit 'em."

Edge smiled. He ran his hand through Christian's shortened mane. They sat in the quiet for many moments.

"He was right about one thing, though," Christian spoke again.

"What's that?"

"I did miss you."

Edge was touched. "I miss you so much, man."

It was true, he did, badly. He couldn't wait for Christian to be back, full-fledged, recovered and ready to fight. This was a lost battle, but nobody was waving a white flag. This was merely a turning point in the war.

Watch out, O dark ones. Christian and Edge aren't quite through yet.

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