Chapter 4: Monsieur Tutu

He lay on her sofa that night, and despite his best attempts, the memories of RAW two weeks prior came flooding back to him. He'd joined the roster for that RAW, not that anyone knew it outside that however. He'd been watching backstage when Vince made his oh so clever announcement, along with most of the roster. A lot of people, it seemed, were getting fed up of Vince's antics towards his son. As Vince uttered the words that if he lost, it would be Undertaker's final Wrestlemania, the room sucked in their breath as one. Undertaker's gaze turned icy, his fists balled unintentionally for a second and he forced himself to release his hands.

"You weren't briefed on this at all were you?" asked John Cena, his 15 year veteran eyes recognising the signals of a man just about stopping himself from ripping the boss a new one.

"No John. No I was not." His voice came out harsh and unrecognisable.

"What are you going to do?" asked Roman Reigns. Undertaker let loose his trademark thin smile.

"I think it's time Vince and I had words."

He'd marched to the Chairman's office for the evening as soon as filming stopped. Shane was there too, and he was pretty pissed off himself, it was clear. The younger McMahon simply opened the office door, and let him in. Vince sat with Summer Rae opposite him, and if Undertaker was to guess, she probably wasn't in there out of friendship. He glared at her, then looked past her and at Vince, before uttering one word.

"Leave." Summer needed little encouragement, and was out of the chair and out the door in seconds, the door slamming shut behind her. No doubt it would be retold in the ladies locker room that he had practically thrown her out and she was in fear for her life. Undertaker ignored Vince's gesture to sit, and Vince smiled at him as he spoke.

"Undertaker to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?"

"You know damn well, McMahon. You put my fucking career on the line, and you didn't even bother to run it by me first?" Vince leant back in the chair and gave him the look he'd seen him give hundreds of other wrestlers. The "who the fuck do you think you're talking to?" look, that would have sent many a man running. Except Undertaker had seen it over and over again, and that shit didn't fly with him.

"I created The Undertaker, I can take it away if I wanted to."

"Except, you can't."

"Excuse me?" Vince was not caught off guard, he knew this. But Undertaker ploughed on regardless.

"You created my gimmick, it's true enough. But what I do out there? In public, in the ring? That's all my work. A gimmick is one thing, but you and I both know that if it wasn't for me, it would have fallen flat on its face with any other man. You may have made the gimmick, but it was my body, my actions in and out of the ring that carried it through. And if I wanted to, I could RUIN it for everyone."

"You wouldn't dare," Vince began incredulously. And for the first time he could remember, Undertaker realised he had Vince rattled.

"I could. Imagine all the thousands of people who come to Mania just to see me wrestle. Imagine all that glorious money gone. What if I go out next week in a pink tutu? What if I suddenly start being the complete opposite of this gimmick you cherish?"

"This is ridiculous, why would you do that?"

"Because I'm sick of being dragged in to your personal shit, McMahon. First, it was Steph all those years ago. Then Hunter. Now Shane. Your feuds don't concern me, they are fuck all to do with me, damn it. But so help me god, if you even consider setting up a career vs whoever match again without running it by me, I will lie down in that very ring the moment the bell rings and let my legacy fall flat on its face, do you hear me?"

"Are you threatening me!?" Bristled Vince, standing also now, both face to face over the desk.

"Threatening is a harsh word, Vince. I'm promising you that this WILL happen if you ever so much as fuck with my career in the slightest again. And if you piss me off more, I might well do it at Wrestlemania. Remember that next time you want to try use me as your bitch." With that, he turned on his heel and walked out, tactfully ignoring the silent group of superstars that had gathered outside to hear the inevitable tirade from Vince, and had instead been rewarded with an Undertaker threat.

As he walked to his bike, Shane caught up with him.

"Well, if you wanted Vince shaking in his boots and pissed off at the same time, I think you managed it." He said as Undertaker sat astride his machine.

"I'm getting way too old for all his shit, Shane. All the mind games and all that crap. I want to wrestle as long as I'm able, with good, clean cut matches minus his trickery and bullshit. Hopefully I made him realise I'm not going to take his crap anymore." Shane nodded in agreement

"That was a low fucking blow, saying it would be your last without consulting you." He replied.

"He better hope I don't turn up in a pink tutu. Because right now, I am seriously considering packing one for Mania."

He awoke the following morning to Zelkina giving him a gentle shove. It was accompanied by the sledgehammer realisation that Wrestlemania was this Sunday and he had to decide today if he was going to bother turning up.

"Hey. Time you woke up. I don't wanna hear about pink tutus all morning, especially from a man your size," She said with a smile.

"I was sleep talking wasn't I?" he asked, sitting up. Zelkina nodded and replied that he was.

"This fight's really getting to you, more than you're letting on isn't it?" she asked, before heading in to the kitchen to make tea and coffee. Undertaker admitted that yes, it was. He didn't really know what he was to do. As they drank, he admitted he wasn't 100% sure he should go to the event. That it was his career on the line and if he lost, it would be the last time he fought there. Zelkina listened as he vented, and as Undertaker sipped his coffee, she spoke.

"You follow wrestling?" She asked, almost making him spit his coffee out.

"Yeah, why?"

"Similar thing happening with The Undertaker's storyline." She replied, before sipping her tea. Undertaker wasn't sure if she was pulling his leg now, but went on with the facade anyway "Except he seems to want to smash in both Vince and Shane." He remarked.

"True. But you know what I'd say to him if he were here?" she asked. Undertaker shook his head and motioned for her to continue. "I'd tell him to beat the living shit out of Shane, which I know is just what he wants. But then once he's out of that cage, get a hold of Vince and beat the living shit out of him too. Or beforehand, either way. He's made his son suffer, he should suffer too. After all, the match is set in stone, there's no avoiding it. And Taker can't go easy. Too obvious." She added with a shrug before standing and taking her mug to the nearby sink. Undertaker was now of the opinion that she was just humouring him by not admitting who he was. And yet, at the same time he couldn't be 100% sure that she was just playing along.

Zelkina had a few errands to run, and asked him to stay at her house for the window repair man while she did so. He admired her trust in him, she didn't have to, but she seemed to just...know he was an ok guy. He didn't feel much like an OK guy at the moment though. Zelkina had set him up with a soda and some chips, and handed him the TV remote, telling him to help himself to chips and soda if he ran out, and left him to it. Which meant his mind drifted back once more to the previous Monday, the one that had made him run away from everything.

It wasn't the fight in the arena, he realised, that had made him want to get away. No, it was after the show. He and Shane were talking quietly away from everyone. Neither was happy about what was going on, but both knew they were at the stage now that they couldn't get out of it.

"Well, we'll just have to make it look bad, but not actually go for it, I guess?" Shane shrugged and massaged his arm, sore from their onscreen scrap.

"You know and I know the fans won't even fall for that, never mind Vince." Undertaker replied. He cracked his knuckles, partially wishing he was beating the shit out of Vince in that cage. "No, there's no leeway on this. We have to go at each other, else Vince will drag this out for eons. Talk of the devil," Undertaker nodded to behind Shane, and he looked to see the chairman making his way towards them. He wasn't in a jovial mood.

"You two...you are making my life a living hell right now," He spat with venom.

"Well if you didn't let Steph and Hunter run the place in to the ground we wouldn't be in this situation." Shane countered. Undertaker watched as the two McMahons verbally jousted for a few minutes, before Vince turned to him.

"And you! You threaten to turn up in a pink tutu?"

"I didn't threaten, I promised. Keep it up and it might just jump to including bunny ears and a pom-pom tail." He replied back. If it were possible, there would be steam coming from Vince's ears right now, Undertaker decided as he gazed down at the man.

"You're willing to throw your whole career away, destroy the company, over this?!" He exclaimed, gesturing to his son. Shane looked back at his father indignantly.

"I told you I was tired of being involved in your personal shit." Undertaker straightened up, looking down at the billionaire with his cold steel gaze yet again. "And I mean to end my involvement. You will be very, very lucky if I don't break out of that cage and come after you once the match is over."

"If this company falls apart, because of your antics, it will be on both of your heads, and I'll make you pay for it, bit by goddamn bit if I have to!" Vince yelled, before turning on his heel and walking off. That's it, Undertaker decided. I'm done.

He'd gone back to the hotel, headed home and was on his bike by the following morning. Phone call after phone call had come his way since then, and meeting with Zelkina had been a good distraction, at least for a little bit. Undertaker let out a heavy sigh and sipped at his soda. He knew he'd be going back. He knew he couldn't let the fans down, people who had travelled from the world over to watch the fight. He was distracted by a knock at the door, and he realised it must be the window repair man. He set down his soda, and hoped Zelkina wouldn't come back in the interim, just in case she truly was ignorant of the fact The Undertaker was in her home.

He booked his flight for the following afternoon, and that night insisted on taking Zelkina out for dinner, as a thank you for what she'd done for him. Although she insisted she'd done nothing but let him vent. He knew that and told her so, but it was more than that. She had helped him clear his mind, and re-focus on what was important. And for that, he was very, very gratefull. Zelkina came with him the next day to see him to the airport. As they parked up, he realised with a heavy heart, he was going to miss her. She had been a ray of sunshine in what had been a pretty dark time for him.

"What about your bike? Don't you need to check it in?" she asked as he got off.

"Nah. Here." He handed her the keys. "Look after it for me."

"Are you mad? That's a couple of thousand dollars worth of beautiful, beautiful machinery right there..." she began.

"Which is why I trust you to look after it." He replied.

"You're mad."

"Maybe." He grinned and shrugged his shoulders. "Listen, i just want to say thank you, one last time. You heard me out, let me vent and clear my head. It was appreciated, more than you know." He said, glancing at his watch. His flight would be boarding soon. He gave Zelkina a hug as he decided he'd better get a move on.

"Wow, a hug from The Undertaker...I should have recorded that for posterity," she said with a cheeky grin at his surprised face.

"You knew?!" He exclaimed.

"Yes, "Mark," I knew." Zelkina laughed.

"When?"

"From the moment I laid eyes on you. I wasn't going to fan girl out on you. I could see you needed an escape, not to be mobbed, even if you are my favourite wrestler. Besides. It's been kinda funny watching you trying to keep your identity a secret." She grinned. "Seriously though. My offer still stands."

"Offer?" Undertaker furrowed his brow.

"Next time you're in Orlando, come say hi. The drinks will be on me."

As Undertaker and Roman walked towards their hotel, Undertaker found himself thinking about the year prior. He'd left a photo of a pink tutu in Vince's office for the show, just as he'd headed to the stage. Apparently the boss had a fit, making both him and Shane decide the cage match was worth it. After he'd changed and headed back to his hotel, he got a text message. "Good match. Knew you had it in you" It read. It made him smile, and it was nice knowing someone outside the wrestling circle had his back.

This year they were in Orlando, and his mind drifted to Zelkina. He wondered how she was.

"You ok? You drifted a moment then," Roman said with a grin.

"Yeah. Thinking about an old friend, y'know? Actually, I think you'd really like her." He added as they approached the entrance.

"You think so, huh?"

"I do. I might arrange to meet up with her later..."He said, his brow furrowing and his voice trailing off as he heard the sound of a motorbike coming in to the parking lot. It sounded way to familiar, and as it died, he turned to see a woman sat on a familiar motorcycle. It was his bike, he realised and the woman was Zelkina, a grin on her face as she flipped up a pair of sunglasses.

"You sure took your time coming to get this thing." She said. The grin was infectious and Undertaker found himself smiling.

"Well, I didn't know when I'd be down here next. Bit out of your way though isn't it?"

"Oh, I came to see you kick ass like usual. Getting your bike back to you was a bonus." She replied, stepping off the bike and walking up to them. Undertaker didn't miss the appreciative eyes with which she looked Roman up and down. "So. You going to introduce me to your... victim?" Undertaker chuckled.

"Roman Reigns, meet Zelkina Blackheart." He watched her flash Roman a knee buckling smile as they shook hands.

"Pleasure to meet you," Roman let go and readjusted his bag, clearly disorientated. There was zero point pretending Undertaker could see it in his eyes.

"Oh, the pleasures all mine." She replied. "Speaking of pleasures, I believe I said the drinks were on me?" She asked, turning to face Undertaker. He nodded and the pair walked inside, leaving Roman stood watching thunderstruck on the steps. Undertaker paused, realising he wasn't with them and turned to call back to him.

"Reigns. Are you coming or not?!" he called. Roman snapped back to reality, his bag slipping off his shoulder as he hurried inside to join them.

THE END

Thanks for reading this short fic! I never had any intention of making it a massive thing, so I really hope you enjoyed what you've read so far, and check out my other fics! Zelkina xxx