I sit in bed, reading a book about peace and light or some shit. Trish gave it to me earlier, insisting that I read it. She said that my soul was too dark or somethin'. I swear this book is written half in another language. What the fuck is a 'chi'?
I throw the book on my nightstand, and cross my hands behind my head. Obviously, Trish is much more of a book person than I am. She's the last one Angel brought in. I'm not even sure what she's doing here. Not that I don't like her. I mean, she's a nice person and easy on the eyes, but it just seems like she doesn't... fit with the rest of us.
There's a knock on my door, and Becca steps in.
"Hey," she says as she dives onto my bed, causing the headboard to bang against the wall a couple of times.
"Shut up!" I hear Hunter's voice through the wall.
"You shut up!" I yell back. He's the one who's always making a racket over there. Or it might be Shawn. Or both.
Becca laughs softly and rolls onto her side to face me.
"So, did you have fun last night?" she asks as she traces my tattoos with one finger.
"Mm, I could ask you the same thing. You left awful quickly with Trish," I reply, knowing I'll get a reaction out of her.
"I did," she says simply, although her cheeks are starting to colour.
"Wanna give me a play-by-play of the action then?"
"Taker!" she gasps and slaps my arm. It doesn't hurt at all. I just laugh at her while she glares at me.
"I know you saw us the other night," she says suddenly.
I instantly know she's talking about the night I walked in on her with Trish. "Did you, now?"
"Mmhmm," she says as she moves to straddle my waist. "That was very polite of you to leave."
"It was, huh?" I bring my hands from under my head and gently grip her hips. "Do I get a reward then?"
"Hmm, maybe. If you're a good boy."
"I'm always a good boy," I grin as I slide my hands under her shirt to stroke the soft skin underneath. She snorts at my comment and I can't help but laugh. It sounds so funny coming from her.
She lies down with her head on my chest, tracing the tattoos on my arm again. I'm not sure how long we stay like that, but it feels nice just to be able to relax with her comfortable weight on top of me. Her touch becomes lighter and lighter and it's starting to tickle. I can tell she's thinking deeply about something. I squeeze her gently. "Whatcha thinking about?"
She's quiet for a moment and then asks, "How did you meet Angel?"
Ah yes, let the game of Twenty Questions: Angel Edition begin. I've come to expect it from her, but that doesn't mean I can't be difficult about it. "Why?"
"I just… You don't have to tell me if you don't want to." She frowns and averts her gaze.
Hm, now that's a look I don't like on her. I guess I'll tell her the damn story. Jeez, I must be getting soft. "He bought me."
"He bought you?" She looks at me disbelievingly.
"Yeah," I laugh as I remember that night.
God, why won't this fucker go down? I laid on the mat, staring at the ceiling and trying to catch my breath. I glanced over at my opponent who was doing the same thing. The crowd started to boo at us. Blood thirsty jackasses. Well, if blood is what they want, then blood is what they'll get. I got to my feet as my opponent did the same. As he charged at me, I grabbed him and locked on a triangle choke. Most of the crowd roared in approval, but I heard a few colourful curses from a guy in the front. I grinned inwardly and pulled as hard as I could until my opponent started to bleed from his mouth and passed out.
"Here is your winner, The Undertaker!"
"Fucking hell," front row guy said.
I smiled to myself as I slowly made my way to the back. That'd teach him to bet against me. My smile disappeared as soon as I passed through the back doors.
"What the fuck are you smiling at? Go shower and get back in your cell," Bischoff sneered at me before heading through the doors, to collect money no doubt.
I rolled my eyes and headed to the showers. I peeled off my clothes and stood under the shower, letting the warm water pelt my sore muscles. I shut it off after the water started to go cold. It's surprising that there was even any warm water to begin with. Bischoff's a stingy little bastard. He probably makes a shitload of money off us, but leaves us with practically nothing.
After drying off and putting on a pair of jeans, I headed back out into the hallway to my cell. Bischoff was already standing there, waiting impatiently for me. I walked down the hall as slow as humanly possible, just to irritate him. I stopped in the doorway of my cell and turned around to face him so he couldn't close the door.
"Get in," he growled through his teeth.
Fuckin' little weasel. I contemplated snapping his neck, as I've thought about doing many many times before. Sure, I'd be free, but I'd have nowhere to go. I have no family. Nobody wants a high school dropout working for them. Well, maybe they'd take a high school dropout, but they definitely wouldn't take one who was also a murderer.
I sighed to myself and took a small step back into my cell. Bischoff slammed the door in my face and locked it.
"Good job killing that guy tonight. That'll show that bitch Heyman not to try and make money off of me. I bet he's shitting himself for losing one of his best fighters…" Bischoff's voice trailed off as he walked down the hall away from my cell.
What? I killed him? Oh shit, I really didn't mean to do that. I flopped down onto the cot and stared blankly up at the ceiling. That's four people that have died because of me now. It's not like I always had a choice in the matter. One of them damn near took my eye out once.
I'm not sure how long I was thinking for -- hell, I don't even know how long I've been here since Bischoff offered me a "job" after seeing me wandering the streets. Your sense of time gets warped when you're living underground and have nothing to measure it by. But the worst part is I don't get to fuck anyone. God, it's like I have a fuckin' permanent hard-on when I'm not fighting. Life here sucks ass.
I was about to relieve myself of my goddamn erection when I heard a noise outside my cell. There was a man standing there regarding me silently. He had short black hair and was dressed all in black -- nice pants, shoes and dress shirt. But the thing that struck me the most was how pale his skin was. Seriously, if vampires were real, I'd say he was one. Or maybe he was an angel of death here to take me to hell for all my sins. That is, if there actually was a hell and angels wore Armani.
It was getting a little unnerving with him staring at me like that. I was about to ask him how he got in here when Bischoff appeared at the edge of my cell.
"How much?" pale guy asked Bischoff, but he was still staring at me with unblinking eyes. Huh? How much what?
"Depends on how long you want him for," Bischoff replied.
Oh, hell no. I knew that Bischoff whored some of the guys out to well-paying people, but nobody had ever wanted to even try and mess with me. And there was no way I was gonna let it start now. I got up off the cot and moved to the front of my cell. I gripped the bars near pale guy's head and glared down at him menacingly. He was pretty tall. Not as tall as me though. I could take him.
"To purchase."
"What?" Bischoff and I said at the same time.
Pale guy turned to Bischoff. "To purchase," he repeated slowly.
"You can't have him. He's my best fighter," Bischoff said firmly. That's the first time I've ever heard him say anything even remotely nice about me.
"I'll pay any price you want."
"Any price huh?" Bischoff scratched his chin. I could almost hear the cash register going off in his head and see the dollar signs rolling around in his eyes. "Let's go talk in my office."
I watched them walk down the hall as long as the view from my cell would let me. So he wants to buy me, huh? Well, I'll be damned if I'm gonna play boy toy to some rich jackass with too much money to spare. Even I'm not horny enough to do that. If he tries anything funny, I'll break him in half.
I was still standing there at the bars when they returned a few moments later and Bischoff unlocked my door. "Looks like you're free to go, Taker."
"You might want to put on a shirt. It's windy outside," Pale guy said to me before he turned and headed down the hall. I stood there in shock for a moment before grabbing my shirt off the end of the cot and pulled it on as I followed him out of this hellhole.
Once I stepped outside, I had to stop and breathe in the cold night air. God, I haven't been outside in a long time.
"You coming?" Pale guy asked from where he was leaning against a black car. Does this guy own anything that's not black?
I hesitated. It's not like I had anywhere else to go. My legs had already taken me half towards the car before I decided that I'd see what he had to offer. If anything, I could just steal his money and run, right?
He turned to me as I got into the passenger seat.
"You have family somewhere?" he asked.
"They're dead."
"What happened to them?"
"There was a fire. I couldn't…" I trailed off as I thought about that night.
"I see," he said shortly, "We'll go to my place then."
I frowned at him. "I'm not gay."
He arched an eyebrow at me. "I didn't say you were."
"And I ain't gonna be a slave or nothin' for you."
"I didn't say that either." His lips twitched and a smirk appeared briefly before he continued, "You're free to leave anytime you want."
I looked at him in surprise. It sure didn't sound like a lie. I was silent for a moment before asking, "How much did you pay Bischoff?"
"That's nothing you need to worry about," He said as he started the engine and pulled out of the parking space.
"Okay... Gonna tell me your name then?" I asked.
"They call me Angel," was his reply.
Angel? I let out a short bark of laughter as I remembered my thoughts when he was standing outside my cell. Angel of death, indeed.
"Are you takin' me to hell?" I asked, half seriously.
He frowned at me as he headed onto the highway. "Why would you say that?"
"Never mind." I rolled down the window so I could breathe in some more cool night air.