Disclaimer: Hey what did I say? I don't own them. :D
A/N: Well I guess I had another chapter in me, sooner then I thought. I want to thank Isil for being my first reviewer. Thanks for the kind words.
If anyone finds issues with spelling and grammar please let me know. I really am not a writer and I'm flying by the seat of my pants here. lol so any imput in that area would be loads of help.
Anyway, on with the next chapter.
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In the bowels of the Continental Airlines Arena a group of WWE wrestles are busy preparing for the night's show. Some lounge about on benches, reading, or talking among themselves. Little of the talk has to do with what they are about to do in a few hours. It is a time to relax before they face the roar of a filled arena of fans. Every so often, one or another of the men in the room glances to an unclaimed locker bearing a stickered label reading "KANE".
"Hey anyone see Kane?" This from a young African American sporting a nice neat set of cornrows along his scalp, as he glances to the group of men playing cards to his left. One of the men, an older blond haired man, looks up from his hand shaking his head. "No, not since last night after the show at the bar." The man speaks with a distinct Irish accent. "Last he said he was heading to bed before Taker headed to the room. Something about, how Taker would watch TV for an hour before calling Sara and going to bed. Would keep the poor guy up for hours before he could fall asleep." He chuckles a bit before laying his cards down grinning at the man across from him. "Why do you ask?" The older man looks up again curiously. "Well he's got the first match and I have not seen him all day, not in the gym or practicing the match in the ring. Not much time before the show goes on, and Kane's not the kind to go into a match cold, you know that."
With these words both man look to the locker with furrowed brows, even drawing the attention of others close enough to hear some of the words that had passed between them. "You think something's wrong?" This coming from, a short partially balding, Hispanic man. The look of concern that flashes over his face makes the others in the room start to look to each other as more concern seems to grip the entire room as they all think back to anther day in another state where one of their number had a fatale reasons for not showing. No one could bring them self to even speak, afraid of what to say, seeing the fear in the man's eyes and the cold fear that, now, grips each of their hearts. Could they stand another loss?
Just as the tension seem as it would overwhelm them all, the door bursts open and young man with long dark hair pulled into a tight pony tail rushes into the room. "Have you guys heard?!?" His outburst seems to break the spell in the room as some of the men that had been standing seem to deflate and collapsing onto nearby benches, as other slow turn, thinking themselves ready for the news they all feel they are braced for. What the young man says next proves them all wrong.
"Mark's wife was killed last night…Someone Murdered Sara..." he seems to take a moment, as if the next bombshell is hard, for him to vocalize, "They also killed his daughters…" It is those words, that seem to seep into the young man's brain for he just seems to deflate before their eyes as he slides slowly to the floor with his head in his hands. The room is silent for a very long time. What do you say, after hearing something as horrific as the news, someone has committed the ultimate sin and many eyes. To take the life of a child is unforgivable to many of these men of families they so rarely get to see.
"How…how do you know about this Matt?" The young African American finally finds his voice enough to ask, though it is horse with held back emotions. The other young man, shaking his head looks up with unshed tears brimming in his dark eyes, "I was near some crates talking to Jeff on my cell. Wanted to…to have some privacy so I guess the bosses talking did not see me," he swallows, as the act of speaking now, is about the hardest thing he has ever had to do, "They…sai…said someone broke in.…they just killed them…that's all I heard before they moved on." He starts to shudder with pent-up rage or sadness, it is hard to tell, but is clear he is not the only one in the room deeply affected by the news. As they all just stands about, not even sure what to do next, the door opens slowly and tall African American stands in the doorway, the look on his face is a mirror of those in the room. "Vince has called a meeting in catering." It is all he says, it seems to be all he can bring himself to say as she turns about and leaves.
It takes the gathered men in the looker room a bit to find the will to move to the door and depart to a meeting they all dread. They arrive in the open area where, normally the men and women that work for the WWE would take time to relax and eat while waiting their turn in the ring, or the backstage crew who work hard to produce the shows that are intended to entertain thousands of fans. But, at this moment, the usual backstage hum and bustle is nowhere to be seen. The atmosphere is about as subdued as they have ever been for this company. Here and there the muted silence is broken with the sob from one of the female workers, or a male equivalent. The most heart rending is the open emotion from the Hispanic man sitting among friends who try to comfort him. His open grief is like exposing a barely healed wound to them all. A loss is a loss, for the wrestling community. Be they a wrestler, or the family of one it is felt by all.
Gazing over this scene is a group of people who seem to be as affected as those men and women before them. There is a young woman with long dark auburn hair, who can barely hid the tears that glisten in her eyes. An older man, with short-cropped hair, that bears a striking resemblance to the overwhelmed young woman. Near the young woman stands a large man with a very prominent nose and very muscular build that is hardly hidden by the suite he wears. He attempts to soothe the young lady, as best he can, but it seems a failing battle. He looks up to the older gentleman as he clears his voice to gain the attention of those in attendance.
"I see most of you have already heard," he stops for a moment as if to collect his thoughts, "for those that have not, I am sorry to have to let you know, that last night Mark's wife and children were murder in their home. Who did it and why, I don't know. Neither does Mark, who is headed to Austin right now." He sighs, as he had to say all that as fast as he could or he was not sure he would have been able to, without some emotional showing and he knew, at this point, he has to be strong for his employees. He clears his voice one more and holds up his hand to forestall any questions as he goes one. "Glen has gone with Mark, he will let me know what they find out, once they get to Austin. Tell then there is nothing to do, but carry on." He was ready for the resentful looks some of the older wrestlers shoot him, but he knows as well as he, that he is right this time, even though it does not sit well with them. Business is business and they will have thousands of paying fans in the seats of the arena in a couple of hours. "I ask you all, to do your best tonight. I know it will be hard, but I am sure you all have it in you." He makes a point of not looking to the emotional man off with his friends. "Chavo," The man looks up, "I'm canceling your match tonight, why don't you and Chris head back to the hotel." It was clear to all it was not a suggestion, but a clear order to both men. They nod, stand and leave quickly from the meeting. The look of approval he now gets from the seated wrestlers, have over taken the looks of disapproval. "OK every. We have a show in 2 hours. Go get ready."
The departure form the meeting is slow and subdued, as has been the mood of the whole night since the new had broken. The older man looks back to the younger man and the woman. "We might be without Mark for a weeks, or more. Work around him. I gave Glen a few days, to make sure Mark will be ok, then he will back to work…" he stops talking when he can tell the young woman has something to say, her voice suppressing the strong emotions underlying it. "I really had nothing going for Glen at the moment. Let him stay with Mark for a while dad. You know how he can get…I…" She looks up to the man holding her, and then back to the older man, "I'll feel better if he is there. Is that ok dad?" The, almost, pleading look in her eyes, gives the man no other choice. "Ok, call him and tell him to take his time, till he is sure Mark can he left alone." With that the man, known as Vince McMahon kisses his daughter on the cheek, something he would not normally do in public, as it might compromise her position of authority, but it is clear she is in need of such assurances from her father at this moment. She was always very close to Mark, almost from the point he entered the company. And he had always seemed to be a protector of her, acting like a giant surrogate father at times. This occurrence was hitting her hard, cause it was hitting him hard.
"Paul, look after her for me. I have to head back to Stanford." He says this to the man holding his daughter. "Sure Vince," says the man know to the fans as HHH, or Hunter. "Just let us know what's up as soon as you can. This will not be great on the boy's moral…not after…well you know." They both avoid saying the name, though they both are thinking of the same person. With that Vince turns heads to the parking lot and his limo while Stephanie McMahon-Lavesque and her husband head to the back to try and produce a show with 30 grieving wrestlers.
