Chapter 3
"So, making your debut tonight, hmm?" Chris asked, coming up from behind Harley as she walked into the arena, wrapping an arm around her waist casually. "And in a hardcore match too...damn woman, you're just all eager to dive right on into the heavy shit, huh?" He shook his head, his goatee in a little braid, his long blond hair pulled back into a tight ponytail. "You know the outcome of the match yet?"
"I'm getting my ass handed to me by Lisa, but I'm fine with it. She's basically using me as an example for Terri." Terri Poch was known to most fans as Tori. "But I am going to get to showcase some of my in-ring talent for the match, which is all I really want. Granted, winning would rock, but I can't just shoot up to the top right away." Harley smiled when Chris clapped her on the back, knowing she would have supporters in the backstage area because of WCW. "I'm locked in for four years, so whatever happens from here on out will HAVE to be better than what I was doing with Nash."
Chris nodded, stroking his braided goatee thoughtfully. "Yeah, that's true. Even the 'valets' get put in storylines sometimes, they're not just eye candy. Well…mostly eye candy, but not just…" Chris amended, knowing he probably wasn't making any sense, sighing. "Hardcore match though, that'll be interesting to see. Last one we had…Lisa took a hot iron to someone's arm. They thought it was just warm, but…technical mishap. Nothing major, I don't think anyway…You juicing?" He suddenly asked, trying to stay calm, wondering if Harley would bleed.
Taker walked by the pair at that moment, having overheard their short conversation, shaking his head.
"Yes, I'm not saying anymore though. You'll have to be surprised like everyone else."
Winking, Harley walked away from Chris, heading to the women's locker room with her bag in hand, trying to breathe in and out evenly. She didn't realize Taker had overheard her answer Chris's question, knowing her match with Ivory would be second on the card, so she had no time to waste. Her outfit was a black full piece suit that was sleeveless and black, having a teardrop cut between her breasts, though it left plenty to the imagination.
It shimmered blue and her hair was being left down. Her makeup consisted of blue shimmery eye shadow with deep black eyeliner and clear gloss, teardrops on each corner of her eyes. Harley took a deep breath as she jumped up and down, trying to get pumped for the match, and laced her black wrestling boots up before heading down to gorilla position.
This was it.
Alone in his dressing room, Taker watched her match on the monitor, mildly surprised to see the teardrops on either corner of her eyes, wondering who's idea that had been…hers or wardrobes. He had worn a similar teardrop beneath his eye not so long ago, though his had been a tribute. He had heard about her bleeding, rather curious to see just how it would happen. Usually, they -meaning the wrestlers- would hide a blade in the tape on their wrists and use it to carefully slice themselves…occasionally.
Though some people, like Mick Foley, enjoyed getting it the good old fashioned way: a hard beating. Taker knew he had called Harley a few choice words that involved her chest and ass, but honestly he wanted to make sure she was serious about doing this for a living. Most women who came into the business were after one thing, which was the top guy's dick, especially coming over from the WWF's arch rival WCW.
~!~
Harley was in the zone completely, coming out to the ring to Heaven & Hell by Black Sabbath, looking ready for the fight of her life. The match started out with mostly wrestling, until it was time to initiate the hardcore part of it. She hit Lisa with different weapons that consisted of: trashcans, kendo sticks, doing several dropkicks and even one hard roundhouse kick to Lisa's chest that sent her flying out of the ring.
Harley breathed heavily and turned her back to pick up another trashcan lid, waving it around in the air to stir the audience up. Harley turned around only to be cracked in the head with a steel chair, the sickening smack echoing throughout the arena. She lay prone on the mat, blood spilling from the cut on her forehead the chair caused, the dent very visible as Ivory pinned her for the victory.
Blinking as she tried to get her equilibrium back on track, Harley was helped up by the trainers that rushed ringside, nodding when they asked if she was alright. She managed to stand up on her own two feet, stumbling through the ropes, blinking blood out of her eyes as they handed her a towel. They guided her up the ramp way as the crowd cheered from behind, feeling as though her brains had thoroughly been scrambled.
~!~
"That was BRUTAL!" Chris exclaimed as soon as Harley came through the curtain, blinking in shock.
"Chris, stop…"
"I want to see…DAMN I love you, but I'm glad that wasn't MY head being bashed in by steel, baby!"
Paul sighed and lifted Chris up by the back of his neck, tossing him gently but firmly aside. "You alright, Harley?" He asked gently, knowing that chair shot had to hurt. Though, truth be told, that was definitely one of the best breakout matches he'd seen in a while and from a female no less.
"I'm fine Paul, not like I haven't been cracked upside the head with a chair before." Harley managed a weak smile, wiping more blood out of her eyes, knowing it was for the good of the company. She was caked in sweat, bleeding from her hairline -Lisa had good aim and knew what to do because Harley was still a WWF Diva on top of a women wrestler- and in dire need of some medical attention.
"Harley, come on, we need to get you stitched up." Larry stated, shooing everyone away with narrowed eyes, guiding her toward his office.
"Go on Paul, I'm fine, I promise." She squeezed his large hand before walking inside the trainer's room to get fixed up, refusing to let her tears fall. She'd do that once she was safe and alone in her hotel room, not wanting to show weakness to the others.
"How is she?" Chris was really worried, his blue eyes showing it, staring back at Paul anxiously. "Does she have a concussion?"
"I don't know, she says she's fine." Paul answered, running hand over the top of his head, still not believing Harley actually bladed.
"Well, are you sure?" Chris demanded, looking past Paul toward the trainer's room.
Paul finally lifted Chris up by the back of neck, again, and carried him away from the door so he wouldn't barge in. "Look, runt, she's a tough lady. She can handle it." He grunted, setting the smaller man down, trying not to show how worried he really was.
"Lisa cracked her pretty good though."
"She can handle it." Paul repeated, folding his arms in front of his massive chest.
Larry assured Harley she'd be fine, giving her some pain killers for the pain, having stitched her up along with a bandage. He gave her some extras and made it clear she couldn't go to sleep for at least two hours -since Harley had a mild concussion- and instructed her not to take the pain pills until the two hours were up. The woman had a really hard head, causing Harley to chuckle softly when he said that. Harley walked out of the trainer's room slowly, taking her time as she headed back to the women's locker room, hoping she put some kind of impression on the WWF.
"So...you came all the way from Atlanta just to get your head bashed in? Nice statement." Snorted one of the ex-WCW guys, leaning in the doorway to the men's showers, shaking his head. "Leave the real wrestling to the boys sweetheart and just stick to shaking those-" He let out a yelp as he was jerked backward, followed by an audible thud and the unmistakable sound of flesh smacking something like, the shower wall.
Taker stepped out into the hallway, dressed for the night in his ring gear, his hair hanging loose down his back, slightly damp. He glanced over his shoulder at his handiwork and smirked ever so slightly, knowing that punk wouldn't be making another comment toward Harley. Flicking his hair back, acid eyes gleaming wickedly, Taker headed down the hallway.
Harley rolled her eyes, honestly not bothered by anything people had to say to her, though she was shocked by what Taker did. She simply nodded at him, being respectful, and kept heading down the hallway. Slipping inside the women's locker room and showering, Harley was being extra careful of her stitches, trying not to rip them. She dressed in a black hooded sweatshirt with dark blue jeans, not even caring how she looked. She wanted to take something to help the thudding in her head and stepped out with her luggage rolling behind her, trying to push away the dizziness she felt.
She was already leaving, Taker mused, knowing some of the guys did that as well. As soon as they were done, they took off. Others, Levesque, lingered to watch the matches, gleaning information, knowledge from each match, soaking it in like a sponge.
Considering she had a concussion, however, he supposed that was acceptable. He wondered how bad it was, if Larry had given the okay for her to drive, shaking his head, heading towards the ring. He had a promo to cut, wondering why he was so damn worried about the rookie.
Harley was halfway out the door when Chris Irvine came up to her, checking to make sure she was alright, and then convinced her somehow to stick around. So she currently sat in his locker room, leaning back against the couch with bottled water, having popped the two pain killers Larry had given her. She hadn't realized it was pain killers, though at least she wasn't in anymore pain, also knowing she could trust Chris. It didn't knock her out though, just made her tired as she watched the monitor with Paul and Undertaker in the ring cutting a promo. She had to admit, Paul definitely was lucky to work with a legend such as Undertaker, even though he was a bastard at heart.
Chris was pacing behind the couch, saying different lines under his breath, trying them out for his own match that he would speak beforehand, tugging on his ponytail. Every now and then, he would glance at Harley to make sure she was alright, not wanting her to doze off. He knew she had to have a concussion, having noticed her taking something that looked like aspirin, but he knew it was pain killers, wondering if she did.
"Hey, I have to go now, you going to be okay?" He asked, bending over her shoulder so his head was next to hers, watching as Taker delivered a tombstone pile driver, wincing because he knew he was going to get one of those very soon.
"Yeah, I'm fine."
Harley waved him off dismissively, leaning back against the couch as Undertaker got the victory, clapping a few times because Paul was on his team. She saw how he moved in the ring, absorbing the knowledge, even though she'd been around wrestling most of her life. Her father was a nobody wrestling in the Indies, retiring earlier on in his career, but Harley would practice with him.
She'd been on the high school wrestling team, the first woman ever, though most people didn't know that considering it was a southern school. Sometimes she really couldn't stand Georgia, where she currently lived, deciding maybe it was time for a change. Harley could feel her eyes getting heavy and leaned her head back, allowing the darkness to overtake her.
~!~
"Hey, do me a favor and check on Harley." Chris requested as Paul passed him, needing to head out for his segment. "She's in my dressing room. I saw her walking out of the arena and figured driving wouldn't be the best thing with a concussion. She looked like she was fixing to fall asleep."
Paul tried to say something, but Chris was already running off, groaning. "I uh…I can't. I need to go…"
"Go." Taker ordered gravely, sneering, not even wanting to know what was on Paul's agenda. "I'll check on her for you."
Hesitating on for a moment, Paul hauled ass down the hallway, hoping Harley was alright.
~!~
Harley ended up sliding from a sitting position to laying down on the couch, breathing in and out evenly as she slept very deeply. Wasn't the smartest thing in the world to take pain killers, but she thought she'd only be hanging out for a little while. That was until Chris stopped her, begging her to hang out to watch his match and the rest of the show. When the door snapped open, banging against the wall with a smack, Harley didn't even flinch, her arm hanging off the couch, black hair covering most of her face.
Of course, he foolishly volunteered to check on her and she WOULD be asleep. Sighing, Taker walked around the couch and kneeled down, snapping his fingers in her face. Considering she hadn't woken up when he had purposefully thrown the door open so it would make a loud sound -to awaken her from a sleep if she was napping or to startle her if she wasn't-, he didn't expect the woman to awaken easily. He slapped her face a few times, not too hard, but hard enough to sting.
"Wake up, woman." He ordered gruffly, eyes narrowing.
Harley suddenly bolted upright, not realizing who was there, and smacked her head hard against a very hard jaw. "Fuck!" She groaned, immediately holding the top of her head, right where Ivory laid her open earlier with a chair.
She heard cussing, trying to get her vision to clear, and when it did those grey eyes of hers instantly widened in shock. It was the Undertaker. Harley was completely mortified, fully awake now. If she broke his jaw or jostled any of his teeth she was a dead woman, Harley swallowing hard.
Staring down at her out of unreadable acid eyes, he slowly ran his tongue over his teeth, checking them all, before grunting. "Paul wasn't kidding about your hard head." He said slowly, grabbing her by either side of her face and tilted her head forward, examining the bandage to make sure no stitches had been torn when she decided to bash her skull into his face. "You were sleeping, woman."
Harley really felt terrible as he checked her head, knowing she shouldn't have been sleeping, honestly not meaning to fall asleep. "It was my mistake, I took the pain killers after Chris stopped me and wanted to hang out. So I did and I didn't think they'd affect me, but apparently I was wrong..." Like he really cared what her excuse was...Harley wished she could be swallowed completely whole right now. "I really didn't mean to do that...I'm sorry. Are you okay?" That was a dumb question as he finally released her head, grey meeting acid again.
"I am fine." He assured her in a deep baritone, like she was daft, which in his book she was.
Taking pain killers...What the hell had she been thinking? Had Larry given them to her? What the hell had Larry been thinking? He did not give anything to someone who had a concussion because, if pain was dulled, it was easy to fall asleep, which is what had to happen.
"Get up." He ordered, rising to his full height and stared down at her. "Since neither you nor your friends are capable of following common sense, I will make sure you remain alert for another hour. It wouldn't look very well for the company if you died from a concussion on the night of your debut."
"It was my fault, nobody else's. Larry told me to take them after waiting two hours, but I didn't listen. I've been hit with a chair before, this isn't my first time and I'm sure it won't be my last. So thank you for waking me up, sir, but I'm just going to head back to the hotel. I'm awake now, I swear."
Calling him sir just seemed to come natural to Harley, probably due to how long he'd been in the business. She made a simple mistake, honestly not thinking it was that bad of a concussion, but now she knew better. It wouldn't happen again and he'd scared her fully awake by cracking him in the jaw.
Her head was officially throbbing again.
