Masked
Chapter 1
HHH sauntered over the fallen body of Jeff Hardy, mocking him, as he lay motionless. His colored hair spread out as he moaned in pain. Hunter laughed as he feebly tried to stand. Once Jeff had regained his balance, Hunter kneed him in the stomach, and got ready to deliver the Pedigree.
As he delivered the move, everything seemed to disappear. The only sound in the arena seemed to be the wrestlers haggard breathing, and the fans were eerily quiet. The spotlights shut off, followed by the other lights, and the camera flashes. As the dimmer lights flickered back on, Hunter was aware of the feeling that someone was watching him. The fans stood up and roared. Hunter froze in his spot, the memories from the previous RAW shows that month flooding back. Slowly, he turned around, and backed away at what he saw, which was exactly who he'd been thinking it was.
Behind him, stood a woman, clothed completely in black leather. The tight leather pants showed off her slim hips and flared out near the end, revealing her high-heeled boots. The leather, long sleeved shirt, had a zipper down the front and two small diagonal ones near the sides, and accented her body perfectly. A leather mask covered all of her face and hair, the only showing feature were two clear, blue eyes. Hunter knew he'd seen those eyes somewhere else, but couldn't place them, and nor did he have time to. His gaze was riveted on the Singapore cane she wielded in a black fingerless glove.
She brought back her right fist quickly and aimed for a right hook to his jaw. He blocked her fist. She dropped the cane to her feet and aimed with her left fist. He blocked again. The masked woman smiled suddenly, looking at their hands in the air. She grabbed his arms, jerked them, pulling his head closer, brought back her head, and delivered a savage head butt. As he stumbled backward, she side-kicked him in the stomach, pushing him to the ropes. She made a move to jab him in the stomach with the cane once she picked it up, but he managed to grab the end between his hands. Not losing a beat, she performed a roundhouse kick over the cane, almost sending him over the ropes. She grabbed his hair and, using her strength, threw him to the ground. She cracked the cane over his back (literally). Once he stumbled to his feet, she grabbed both of his hands and pulled them far out. She used them to gain the height to lock her legs firmly around his head and twist her body. With the added effect of his arms swinging, Hunter swung in a full side flip before colliding into the ground. He sputtered, and lifted his head above the mat. She snapped her boot into his face in reply, and picked up a steel chair lying near the edge of the ring, discarded during the match between Jeff and Hunter. The ref was lying motionless on the side of the ring, unaware to what the masked woman was doing.
She began to slowly destroy Hunter with the chair, cracking it along his spine, forehead, thighs, and knees. She had cracked the chair a dozen times before the ref began to stir slightly. He groaned, the blood from his body trickling onto the mat. Slowly, she dragged his body into the corner, pushing him onto his back. She gave Jeff, who had struggled to his feet by now, a piercing, warning glare to make it clear that she didn't come to save him, only to destroy a tired HHH. As she sauntered to the ramp, watching the screen with little interest, Jeff pulled off a Swanton Bomb to pull out the win for the WWE Championship. She smiled behind her mask – not so much that Jeff won, but more that HHH lost something valuable to him.
"That's the third time this month that this masked woman has come out and destroyed a member of Evolution!" exclaimed J.R., "Is Bischoff going to do anything?" What J.R. had said was correct. This masked woman had come out previously on two occasions, wielding a Singapore cane and destroyed Flair and Randy.
Speak of the Devil, the saying goes and came. The General Manager's music pounded through the speakers, and the crowd abruptly stopped screaming for Jeff to boo for Bischoff as he walked down the ramp, microphone steady in his hand. None of this did anything to stop the masked woman. She kept moving along.
"Stop right there," Bischoff ordered as he passed, "This has everything to do with you." She paused, and dipped her head, tilting it to the side, as if debating whether or not to stay put. As he slipped into the ring, he glared at Jeff, hugging his newly won title to his chest, a look of shock and happiness on his face. "At Summerslam, you'll be in a Fatal Four-way match for that title," he spat, "Involving HHH, The Rock, and Kevin Nash!" The crowd cheered; and Jeff nodded at Bischoff, yelling something to Bischoff confidently. Bischoff curled his lip in obvious disgust and turned to the masked woman. "Since you are on my show, and you've been in my ring, wrestling my wrestlers without a contract," he said spitefully, resting his free hand on the ropes, "By every right, I should have security dragging your pretty ass to jail right now," he said, turning around, "No. Oh, no. I'm not going to do that," the evil grin was back in place. "It's pretty obvious that you want to be a wrestler. No, make that very obvious. I will give you that chance. Next week, you'll be in a match versus Molly Holly for the Number 1 contender for the Women's Championship, which is currently held by Jazz. If you win against Molly, and against Jazz, you'll get a contract with the WWE. If not, then you will never step a foot into my ring again," he glared at her, his eyelid twitching. She turned around. "Oh, and I forgot something," Bischoff said in an evil voice, "If anyone, anyone can take her mask off – without causing her to win one of her matches by DQ, they will replace either HHH, The Rock, or Kevin Nash at Summerslam." He paused, turned around, and developed a menacing stare.
"Starting now."
- - - - -
Author's Note: I hope that it doesn't seem as bad to you as it does to me right now. I'm sorry this chapter doesn't have much excitement, and that it's a bit short, but bear with me. Please review!
(I don't own a thing)
LK08