Disclaimer: I do not own any of the names in this story. All rights go to the WWE. I only own the plot.
This is set in the time period leading up to HBK's retirement speech on RAW. I don't about everyone else, but I cried like a baby when he left. I'm crying even more right now. T_T Also, the story is written in his POV and this kayfabe is actually real life in a sense. LOL Enjoy :D
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Not too often does someone make the same mistake twice. I am no different. After missing in action for close to five years, I came back to headline the greatest show of them all facing the undefeated Undertaker. With me in the picture, I knew this match was going to turn out five stars. Mark knew it too. When the event came around, I descended from "heaven" clad in white, while Undertaker came from the "pits of hell" in mourning colors. I gave it my all. I did not hold back. It was a sure fire win. And then I took to the top turnbuckle one last time. I had to do it. I had to do a Moon-Sault to seal the deal. I just had to. But my mind was telling me otherwise. I saw Mark stirring after the blow I delivered. I saw him getting to his feet. I knew beforehand that he was already awake, and I could even see how it would have played out. But I dived in anyways, and then as expected, he caught me. And that was it.
I vaguely recall the horrendous sound of that toll bell ringing, and the lightning going off in the background. It was stripping my soul bare. It couldn't end like this. I didn't come so far to have it end like this. I didn't want it to end like this.
For that reason, I could blame my standing here in this ring right now - saying words I never ever thought I'd have to say - on that ego. That "I didn't want it to end like this" ego. I could even blame my wife Rebecca for constantly blackmailing me with lonely tears. I could blame my kids for missing their father dearly. I could put it all on my doctor for telling me I only had a few more matches left in me before I would be rendered a cripple. I could even blame Mark for accepting in the first place. Whatever I chose to blame was useless because it all boiled down to me being so wrapped up in my character's desire to beat The Undertaker that I discarded a friendship, discarded my doctor's warning, and discarded my family all for the sake of one more match.
One more chance to show the world how great the Heart Break Kid, the Showstopper, Mr. Wrestlemaina is. It wasn't like I had anything to prove, but I just felt like I had to. I had to prove it to everyone – fans or not – that I was Shawn Michaels. The great Shawn Michaels. And to do that, I had to cement my legacy. I had to beat The Undertaker. When I asked Mark for a rematch, he constantly refused it. He didn't want to take any part in it. Then he became World Heavyweight Champion and I saw my chance. At Royal Rumble I was going to win the thirty man match and go on to face him yet again – and this time I would win and become Champion at the same time. I went into Royal Rumble, and lost. I tried to qualify for Elimination Chamber, and failed. And then I cut ties with DX. I cut ties with being tag champs with my best friend Triple H. And in the process, I cut ties with Hunter altogether. He was belittling me – or so I thought – and his words sounded condescending because he already had all the title shots he wanted. And all I had was this one chance.
When Elimination Chamber came up, I decided to hide myself under the ring before the cage came down for the second time. I knew the Undertaker would defend his title to the end. So I waited. I waited until the number of footsteps decreased. I sprung out, and lucky for me, Undertaker was standing right there. He turned and I kicked him in the jaw. Jericho looked at me in shock, but I just stared at the Dead man. Assuming safety, Chris hurriedly pinned Mark and became champion. On Raw I told Calaway to come out and take his revenge. He did. He agreed to a Wrestelmaina rematch, but if I lost, I would have to leave WWE for good. The same went for him. It was the streak vs. the career. Again that little voice inside begged me to reconsider. Once again I could even see how this might play out. But I ignored it, and accepted.
It was Hunter who first planted that seed of self doubt in my mind. It was when he said "Shawn, are you really going to put years of hard work up against a number?" that I first had that moment of reminisce. I thought – for a split moment – was I really going to give up my career for nothing more than to have a one attached to Undertaker's streak? But then I heard the fans. My music started playing. And I was back in the skin of The Heartbreak Kid. I was invincible. I was unstoppable. I was unbeatable. And I was going to win this match.
We traded massive blows to start. I got right into it without a moment's hesitation. We carried the fight all over the place leaving broken wastelands in our wake. Then it happened again. Maybe it was the blood rush. Maybe it was my long forgotten conscience. Whatever it was, I had an instant where I thought for a second that this match was a stupid idea. I took a short look around to see those 18-0 signs, and those "Good-bye HBK" signs, and I knew that putting my career on this line like this – all because of my need to fuel my ego - was a very stupid idea indeed. But that didn't take away from the fact that Mark was still very much there in the ring, and was still hitting hard. When we locked up for a moment, I could see it on his face. He knew that this idea was idiotic. And his jades had an apologetic look behind them – he was apologizing for being the one to end it all. I slapped him. It was a reflex, and then he came back, and planted my skull into the mat. Those doctor warnings I chose to ignore came piling on immediately. For a second I really couldn't move. I felt paralyzed, alone, and afraid. My family was the first thing to cross my mind once the heavy mask of arrogant HBK finally stripped away. What was Rebecca thinking right now? Was she crying with joy that I was finally coming home? Or was she saddened, like Mark was, that it had to come to this? Streak vs. Career. When that music started playing again and the sound of lightning stung my ears, it immediately dawned on me that I was never coming back to the ring. I stood up to wave my fans goodbye. Backstage I met everyone with pats on the backs, and little hugs and goodbyes. But once I was cradled in the comfort of my wife's arms I knew it was truly over, and I couldn't help but cry a little.
Now here on Raw I'm saying those words I never thought I'd say. When I started this gig I always felt a sense of immortality. I guess reality hit hard after Ric left. I knew one day it would come to an end. Mid-speech, Mark comes out clad in his Undertaker gear. I recalled seeing him backstage after WM26, but we had shared nothing more than a glance. Now he stares deadpan at me, and I feel a sense of anxiety. He tips his hat and vanishes with the mist. It's iconic, and probably a gesture I will never forget. The crowd soon chants my character's name, but no bitterness if felt towards that. Instead, I utter those words I don't think I will ever be able to recover from: "Ladies and Gentlemen. The Heartbreak Kid Shawn Michaels has left the building." The crowd erupts into a series of chants, thank yous and tears. I held back a lot for the sake of saving face – HBK would never break down into tears. I walk slowly up the ramp. My legs feel like lead, but I press on. And then right when I was turning to leave for good, Hunter comes up from behind and hugs me. For more years than I could count I really loved Hunter. However, we found significant others, and that was that. But it didn't stop me from planting one last kiss on his cheek. It didn't stop me from crying in his shoulder. And it didn't stop him from telling me that he loves me.
THE END