Dominance
Chapter 2 : The Deadman is coming
See warnings in the first chapter. Nothing deserving of a M rating in this one. Maybe PG.
"Some wounds never heal."
Smackdown, February 2nd, 2007
The Undertaker. Of all people, the Undertaker had to be the one to win the damn Royal Rumble.
Batista was pacing restlessly in his locker room. Truth to be told, he wasn't all that surprised. Ever since the Beat the Clock challenge earlier this year, he had been feeling the Deadman's cold breath over his neck. He had consciously avoided a Triple Threat Match for the Royal Rumble. Attacking Kennedy, thus disqualifying the Taker and ruining his shot at the Title, had not been only a reaction to the Loudmouth's provocation. Kennedy and the Undertaker were simply too much to contend with at the same time. Batista preferred one on one battles.
He had already avoided the Devil once. Dave knew such a miracle wouldn't happen a second time. The Undertaker was coming for his title at Wrestlemania, he was almost certain of it. And he would be damned if he had to wait two months for a first confrontation. He wanted to be in the ring with the Taker. A Legend, everybody said, a true Phenom. Batista felt he needed some kind of preparation before their match. They may not fight today, but the experience could only help his confidence grow further. With that in mind, he ignored the uncomfortable shivers running down his spine, went to the ring, and threw the Undertaker a pop card.
However, his call wasn't answered by whom he expected. Batista watched, surprised and annoyed, as John Cena made his way to the ring, accompanied by a huge pop from the Smackdown crowd. As he gave his microphone to "the Doctor of Thuganomics", the Animal wanted nothing more than to flatten the little ex-thug. But he was also curious. Why was Cena out there? Did he honestly think that the Undertaker could be interested in the WWE title? In Batista's mind, that was plain impossible, and the Raw superstar was spoiling his moment. HE had demanded that the Undertaker come out. HE, Batista, deserved to get the Phenom's attention.
Batista repressed a smirk as he listened to Cena telling how he had been "on the wrong end of the coldest stare that he had ever seen" and almost pissed his pants because of it. He played along, comforting Cena in his idea that the Taker could very well choose him as an opponent for Wrestlemania 23. As if. But why not let that punk sweat a little more? After all, they would have an answer tonight.
All of Batista's confident arrogance seemed to deflate when he heard the first gong. The lights went out, and the second gong resounded, even more ominous than the first one. Batista's mouth went dry as he experienced for the first time the Undertaker's entrance while standing inside the ring. For the first time since the Royal Rumble, Batista realized that he was indeed on the road to Wrestlemania, and the Deadman was coming. His hands felt numb, his legs seemed too heavy to even consider getting out of the ring. Sweat was running down his spine, and Batista could only stare blankly as the imposing dark figure slowly walked down the ramp amidst smoke and sounds of thunder.
A funeral march. A brilliant mind game. Whatever you wanted to call it, Batista knew what it really stood for: the sheer presence of that man was enough to strike fear in the opponent's heart, and the long and intimidating march was there to let them make their mind. Would they be completely overcome by fear, surrender to a power greater than their own, and become a victim? Or would they use the time the Undertaker gave them to gather their wits, fight down the fear, and become a worthy opponent? Those thoughts came to Batista in a flash, like a revelation. He would not be the victim. Not at any price, he refused to be the victim. He would show the Deadman that he was a warrior, a fighter worthy of his attention. Gritting his teeth, the Animal made himself take even breathes, and tried to get his heartbeat to slow down to a regular pace, as he tightened his grip on his World Title Belt. Knowing that to show any weakness would mean his doom, he forced himself to look at the Deadman right in the eyes, wanting to let the Undertaker know he would not avoid confrontation. On the contrary, he was looking for it.
Hardened by his resolution, Batista felt almost lighter as he watched the Phenom slowly climb the steps to the ring. He had passed the first part of the test, he knew it. His confidence was coming back. It became easy to brush off his brief moment of uncontrollable fear as a simple fluke.
However, as the Undertaker summoned the lights back on, Batista saw the eerie white eyes that seemed to pierce his soul, and took an involuntary step back. That was enough to shatter instantly any confidence he might have built back just a moment ago. Cursing himself silently, he tried to mask it as much as possible, but had the nagging feeling that the Deadman could smell his uneasiness.
Gulping, Batista put his title back on his shoulder as the Undertaker stood in front of him and the WWE champion. Damn the guy was tall. But then the Taker did something that swept away all fear in Batista. He looked at Cena first. For the first time, Batista actually understood that the choice wasn't made yet, that the Undertaker could really consider going after Cena. Or Lashley for that matter. That thought alone made his vision turn red. He didn't understand why exactly, but he felt his rage build up inside of him in a matter of seconds, and that anger served him in the end, because when the Phenom finally put his cold gaze on Batista, all he could see was a burning predator ready to strike.
In Batista's mind, he was the one who had called the Taker out, he was the one who screwed him out of a title shot at the Royal Rumble, and he was, by far, the most deserving of the Undertaker's undivided attention. He was stronger than Cena, he certainly was smarter too. His belt meant as much as Cena's, not to mention Lashley's.
Now all he had to do was to make the Phenom understand that.
The Deadman's frozen face gave nothing away. Not a blink, not a movement of the mouth. Batista was ready to strike in order to make his point, when the arena was filled with DX music. Shawn Michaels was in the house.
The Animal was stunned to see how quickly and easily the Undertaker turned his eyes away from him to look at HBK. Baffled, and more than a little bitter, Batista watched Michaels make his way to the ring and get right in the face of the Taker showing no fear, no intimidation, no nothing! He was perfectly comfortable in the presence of one of the most awesome Legend of wrestling, even with the obvious size difference. Michaels talked to the Undertaker like he knew what the Deadman was feeling. So secure was his knowledge of the Taker, that he challenged him for his Title shot, right there! And the Taker was listening to him, and even walked up towards the smaller man, towering and menacing. They were chest to chest now, the tension between them almost palpable, and the glint in Taker's eyes told Batista that a match with Shawn Michaels may actually be, for the Deadman, "another day in paradise".
However, that was not to be. Before the two great adversaries could get it on, Vince McMahon dragged his oversized ego to the ring and literally threw a bomb at them. Batista would partner up with the Undertaker against Cena and Michaels at No Way Out. Talk about random. Batista didn't know if he should be pleased or annoyed. That was not the way he had envisioned things to go at all!
And another thing was on his mind: why had the Undertaker not chosen him already?
Batista was once again furiously pacing in his locker room. The show had gone off air, and that damn Deadman still hadn't made his decision publicly! The choice was obvious though. The Undertaker had to choose Batista, he had to! In Batista's mind, that was as clear as day. And yet, nothing in the Deadman's attitude had revealed that he was going after the World Heavyweight Title. What if... Batista shook his head, trying to clear his mind. Earlier, he felt fear, something he didn't think could happen anymore. A match with the Legend would be the ultimate test of mental and physical strength, and the Animal needed it. He needed to know where he stood. Plus, he was more than intrigued by the man who had managed to occupy all his thoughts since the Royal Rumble.
He had three days until Raw, where the Undertaker was likely to announce who his opponent will be. Three days to get the Phenom's attention in a way that would guarantee he demanded a shot at his title. In other words, he needed to piss the Deadman off .
Easier said than done. Nothing seemed to be able to reach the man. The death mask made him inaccessible. So Batista did his homework. He first asked around the locker room about Taker's habits and found little to nothing. The Deadman came to the arena on his motorcycle, disappeared in his locker room or somewhere else, went to the ring, destroyed his unfortunate opponent, and disappeared again. Few were the ones who saw him leave the arena, usually at a very late hour. Hoping to find out what could make the Phenom tick, Dave did research on the main feuds Taker had for the past decade. What immediately struck him was that, for each and every opponent, the Undertaker gave everything he had, from Stone Cold Steve Austin to Mankind to Kurt Angle to Mr Kennedy. Once he had someone in sight, he would completely focus on that person. Batista felt his mouth go dry at the idea of being the recipient of the Undertaker's wrath, but steeled himself and continued his research. Some years ago, there was a really chubby and creepy little man called Paul Bearer that had been the Taker's manager for over ten years, and when the Deadman made his return in 2004, Bearer, who carried his mythical urn, was right by his side. Taker seemed to care for this little man, always protecting him when he was in danger at ringside, but what Batista read after that sent chills down his spine. Paul Heyman, Smackdown then-GM, had wanted to exploit this affection of the Undertaker for Paul Bearer, and made the Deadman realized that he had a weakness. So what did the Undertaker do? He got rid of that weakness, plain and simple. If Bearer had been the Undertaker's "conscience", as Jim Ross put it, then the Deadman was as heartless and remorseless as any being could ever be.
Or was he? Whereas most of the names of the rivals disappeared from the Taker's history once he was done with them, one name kept coming back. Adversaries at first, allies months later, another betrayal, another reconciliation, and again and again. He was the only man whom Taker let approach after the Bearer fiasco. Kane.
Batista smirked in satisfaction. So the Big Bad Undertaker had a soft side for his little brother, hadn't he? Well, he just had to go find the Big Red Retard now. It shouldn't be hard, the guy was anything but discreet. Didn't look for trouble, but trouble found him anyway. Just ask King Booker.
Batista was right. He found Kane in the back of the arena, still in his ring suit. The big man apparently just had a fight, and considering what he did earlier in the show, interrupting Booker's ceremony of whatever shit the guy was pulling that time, it didn't surprise the Animal that the delusional King had sought revenge.
Batista approached Kane cautiously. Since the Inferno match at Armageddon, the man had been keeping a relatively low profile, but considering Kane's volatile mood, that meant nothing.
Still, Batista had the advantage. Kane was weakened and the Animal was fresh. Feeling secure, he got even closer and leant against the wall, observing the bruised seven-foot monster.
"You alright man?" he asked casually.
Kane glanced at him, then went back to checking his jaw, where an angry bruise was starting to form.
"What do you want?" he asked aggressively.
"Whoa, easy big man, I was just checking on you." Dave said, raising his hands as a sign of peace. "You don't look too good right now. Trouble with Booker?"
"Yeah, Booker and that green Irish bastard. They should be in the trainer's room right now", Kane added with a smirk.
As Kane slowly got to his feet, Batista thought about the Undertaker, and was amazed to see how much different the two brothers were. Compared to his brother, Kane seemed so open. You could tell right away what he was thinking, not to mention the fact that he actually talked to people. Batista took his chance.
"You wanna go to drink something? I know a nice little place not far from the arena."
Kane's went wide open in surprise, but quickly surprise left and an annoyed expression took its place on Kane's features.
"Very funny. If you're done wasting my time, I'll go back to the hotel."
"I wasn't joking. You look like you could use a drink, that's all. Come on, my treat."
Batista had him, he knew it. He had always been good at charming people, whoever they were. He simply knew how to inspire trust.
Kane reluctantly agreed, and after he took a shower and changed his clothes, they both went to the bar Batista was familiar with, earning odd looks from the people they met on the way. Batista's plan was going along even more easily than he thought it would. He and Kane had a few beers, both being mostly silent, until Batista decided Kane was inebriated enough not to notice the drug he was slipping in his glass. Nothing dangerous, Kane would just sleep for a while, and awake with a very strong headache, nothing more. Or maybe nausea too, he wasn't sure...
The drug was slipped in the glass, and Kane was drinking it under the satisfied eyes of Batista, when suddenly Kane asked a question that caught Batista off guard.
"So, why did you bring me here?"
"What? I told you..."
"Cut your crap, I know you don't give a damn about me."
"Why did you accept then?"
"I needed a drink."
They both went silent as Kane gulped down his beer.
"It's about my brother right?"
"What? No, I..."
"Most of the time, people come to me with the idea that since I am his brother, I will know everything about the Undertaker, including how to beat him, what his weakness is, and other shitty nonsense. So, what's your shitty question?"
Batista was at a loss for words. His motives were completely blown. Thankfully, he didn't have to explain himself as the drug kicked in and Kane slumped down the table.
Now all Batista had to do was carry three hundred and twenty something pounds of deadweight to his car and drive to the flat he rented ten miles from where they were.
Moments later, Batista was watching Kane sleeping peacefully on the couch. Batista's couch to be precise. After the Big Red Machine had passed out earlier in the bar, Batista had somehow managed to bring the seven footer there, half-carrying, half-dragging him. Kane hat not opened one eye during the whole process.
It was Friday night, or more like Saturday morning, which left Batista the whole weekend until Raw. Perfect. As he thought his plan over, Batista chuckled darkly. Quite frankly, he felt like a teenager again, about to do something taboo, but oh so exciting. If he was right about the current relationship of the two siblings, Big Brother was going to be extremely mad. No way he wouldn't choose to face the World Heavyweight Champion after that. But for now, all the Animal had to do was wait. Kane would be locked in that little room until his brother noticed his absence. Batista had taken Kane's cell phone, and would be waiting for the Phenom to call. He had checked Kane's call list, and his brother was at the top. After all, even the Undertaker had to adapt to technology.
Speaking of Kane, Batista noticed something as he got closer to the sleeping giant. The big man wasn't making any noise at all. No snoring, no little movements, no nothing. If not for the faint but steady rise and fall of his chest, Batista would have thought him dead.
"Freaky family", he muttered.
He dragged Kane in the spare bedroom, gave him another sedative shot, handcuffed him to the bedpan for insurance, and went back to the hotel rented specially for the Smackdown superstars.
He came back a day later. He found Kane exactly where he left him, except the large man was fully awake, and completely furious. He was also in bad shape. He had not eaten nor drunk anything for the past 24 hours, and his wrists were all bloodied from his struggling. Thankfully, he didn't cut his veins open, as Batista feared at first.
"What the fuck are you playing at?" Kane yelled when he saw Batista.
"Come down before you hurt yourself even further. Is that any way to thank the one who offered you a drink last night?"
"Right. You have my best interests in mind of course. Now can you tell me what the fuck you're playing at?"
"I'm trying to piss off your brother in a way he's never been pissed off before."
Batista didn't see the need to lie to Kane.
"What? Either you're suicidal, or very stupid. Besides, what makes you think kidnapping me will anger the Taker?"
"I haven't just kidnapped you. I've drugged you, locked you up, starved you, and soon I'll also have left you to die in a burning inferno."
"…What?"
Ah, some signs of nervousness. Batista detested when people underestimated him. And to be honest, he was feeling like a great villain from a movie, watching his Machiavellian plan unfold before his evil eyes, and that amused him immensely. Especially since he knew Kane wouldn't be really harmed. He couldn't risk jail after all… That didn't prevent him from playing the villain role of course.
"Yes. You two have quite a history when it comes to fire. Do you think reliving your childhood will be enough to tick off your beloved brother?"
"My "beloved" brother don't give a shit about me", retorted Kane, eyes cast down and body tense.
"Bullshit. You can't lie, so stop trying to. And after what you did to MVP at Armageddon, consider this some kind of karma payback." Batista said with a smirk. He loved having the upper hand, and in this situation, he felt like he was pulling all the strings.
Kane had fallen silent.
Suddenly Kane's cell phone, which was in Dave's pocket, vibrated furiously. Batista picked it up, and looked at the name the small screen was displaying.
"So soon? You should feel very lucky, Kane. Your tough bastard of a brother can't hold on 24 hours before calling you."
"Son of a bitch."
"Sure, sure. Shut up now."
Batista put the phone to his ear, and immediately, an angry voice attacked him.
"Kane! Where the hell are you? I swear if you're with the cops again I'll…"
Feeling more and more like the big bad from a Hollywood movie, Batista said in his deepest voice:
"Do not worry, your little brother is fine… for now."
"…The fuck? Who the hell is this?"
Somehow Dave was disappointed that the Undertaker didn't recognize his voice right away. In a movie, he should have heard something like "You! What have you done with my brother you evil, evil fiend!" But the Undertaker didn't even recognize him! All of his childish excitement disappeared in an instant, and he answered the Taker in his normal voice.
"It's Batista. Me and your brother, we went for a drink last night. We're great buddies now. He's right here, in … Street, …. Oh, I smell something burning. Better go and see what it is. Later."
And with that, he hung off the phone. Kane was looking at him as if he were crazy.
"Okay, your brother should be here in about ten minutes. Just enough time for me to light a little fire, and get the hell out of here."
Putting his words into action, Batista took the gas can he had brought with him and spread the liquid fuel around the apartment. He was rich, he could easily afford something like this. And he warned the guy who rented him the flat, gave him some big banknotes, and got assured that there would be no problem. However, he made sure the pattern he made with the fuel was sparse enough so that Kane wouldn't burn to death within ten seconds. In fact, he didn't even put fuel in the room where Kane was. Only on his door, to make him sweat a little. And force him to relive some traumatic childhood memories… a catatonic or panicking Kane would make an even bigger impression on the Taker when he found him.
Smiling a little bit and waving Kane goodbye, he lit a match, threw it on the fuel trace, left the apartment and closed the door.