A/N: I genuinely loved all of your reviews this time around guys. Plenty of good ideas for what to do with Adam (for which I'm eternally grateful for, I'm glad we were all sort of thinking along the same lines) and lots of interesting commentary besides. Also, because I forgot to respond to the PM, to whoever asked: I'm not from Michigan, I'm from Boston. But it's interesting that they both ended like that…
The week passed slowly. We were absurdly busy, going from one house show to the next with pretty much any time in between spent in travel, but since I couldn't compete until after Monday night (they couldn't figure out who to have me fight and apparently just waiting to see if I would be able to handle coed matches until Raw made more sense to everyone… ugh) it seemed to drag out in a blur of rushed monotony.
Finally Monday Night Raw rolled around. I paced around Phil's locker room, restless with anticipation. "I can't wait to get back in the ring" I half-groaned. "I don't care if I have to fight the motherfucking Undertaker. I'll do it gladly."
Phil grabbed my arm on my next pass and yanked me into his lap. "Sit." he directed. "Pacing isn't going to make the time go any faster."
I grinned at the position I found myself in and pulled him in for a kiss. We hadn't had the chance to go on an actual date given our ridiculous schedule, but we were officially together. We hadn't figured out how to deal with the on-screen side of things yet, but off-screen we were open about our relationship. Everyone had really been great about it, some even going so far as to say that it was "about damn time."
Just as we were pulling away, Lita came bursting into the room. "Way to knock" I growled, but flashed a grin at her to show I was joking as I pulled myself off Punk's lap. (I've never been a big one for PDA. It gets old really fast.)
"Sorry, no time. Two things" her rushed tone made me stand up, wondering what the fuck was going on. "One, Tamina just quit the company-"
"She WHAT?" I yelled in spite of myself. "What the fuck?"
"I don't know" the redhead responded. "I guess she'd just had enough. I tried to talk to her but she wouldn't listen to me."
"Fuck" I muttered. "I'll call her. What's the other thing?"
"Adam wants to see you." I nodded, glad that the second piece of news wasn't a bombshell like the first.
I looked at Phil who nodded slightly at me. "See you in a few." With that I followed Lita out the door.
"So how are things with you guys?" she asked, waggling her eyebrows suggestively.
I slapped her lightly on the arm. "We're good. But what the fuck happened with Tamina I wonder?"
She shrugged. "I have no idea. It's a fucking shame though. We were just starting to get shit balanced out and then she up and leaves."
That wasn't exactly the thing I was most worried about, but once the other woman mentioned it, I realized she had a point. We were once again outnumbered. "I guess I'll talk to her, try to convince her to come back…. I just wonder what could've happened."
With that we arrived at Lita's locker room, where I assumed Edge I just can't think of him as Adam damnit. would be.
"I'll let you two talk" she smiled at me and headed in the direction of catering.
I entered the room, not sure what to expect. I wasn't used to be managed. "Hey" he shot me the classic Edge-grin, and I suddenly felt a lot more at ease.
"Hey… you wanted to see me?"
"Just wanted to wish you luck tonight kid. I have a feeling Vince or Hunter or whoever the hell is setting your match is gonna try to screw you over." A part of me tried to get mad at the term 'kid.' but I just couldn't do it.
I sighed. "I figured. Any guess as to who it might be?"
He shook his head. "There's only one guarantee here- they're gonna give you whoever they think it'll be hardest for you to beat, in any sense. They might make you fight Phil in a last man standing match or something like that, somewhere where you'd be at a psychological disadvantage. Or they might just try to put you at an extreme physical disadvantage, making you fight Mark Henry or someone like that. I don't know. But whoever they pit you against, I'd bank on it being the hardest match of your career so far."
I hadn't even thought of the idea of pitting me against someone who I'd mentally have a hard time beating. Fuck. "Well, I'll do what I have to do I guess" I said, the resolve thinner in my voice than it would have been a few minutes previously. By the same token, I was glad Edge had mentioned the possibility so I could prepare at least a bit for any possible outcome.
He stood up, suddenly towering over me. I suddenly got the sense that he could be very intimidating if he ever wanted to be. "You guess?" he asked, his tone challenging without being overly harsh. He's trying to push me.
It worked. "I will." I revised my previous statement, and pushed a bit more determination into my tone.
"That's my girl" he grinned, putting a hand on my shoulder. "These are the moments that define you as a wrestler: when you have to leave your feelings at the door. Fear, love, hate… you've gotta leave them at the curtain. Whoever you face, you have to figure it's going to be someone you'd never choose to fight. Put that out of your mind. Do what you do best, and only think about that. Alright?"
I nodded at him, pushing the strange emotions rolling within me that I could tell were coming from the unhealed wounds of my broken childhood aside in favor of giving a half-hearted laugh. "What?" he asked.
I shook my head. "Nothing I was just… thinking."
"About what?"
"Nothing important." Just my crazy mind looking for a father figure. Just goes to show how fucked up I am really.
"Alright. Good luck out there Amber. You'll be great." I smiled at him and left, going in search of Lita or Phil or just about anyone. I needed not to think- about my match, about my past, about anything. When my cursory search came up empty, I decided to call Tamina instead.
"What do you want?" she answered, her tone harsh and unforgiving.
"Hey are you okay?" I asked gently. "Lita said you left…"
"Oh I'm fucking fantastic. I just got sick of coming in second to everyone else on the fucking roster. I thought when you came along things were gonna be different. But no. The only difference was, instead of Beth and Kelly being at the top of the division, now it's you and 'Lita'" the scorn in her voice when she spat out the redhead's name made me visibly cringe. "Big fucking difference that was. Well, congratulations, you've fulfilled your obligation by calling me and pretending to care. Have a nice fucking life."
"Tamina wait-" I started, but she hung up on me before I could get any further. "FUCK." I yelled to no one in particular. Had I really fucked things up that badly? Were the people who I had been trying to help just getting screwed because of my attempt to get to the top? And how the FUCK did I not notice that she felt this way before things got this bad. What kind of friend am I?
I forced back an overwhelming urge to punch the nearest wall, reminding myself that it would only make my coming match more difficult. The logic was good, the problem was getting myself to care about the negative aspects of what would only end up being a self-sabotaging move. Logic won out, barely, and I was left sitting in the middle of a hallway, emotions about to boil over, within twenty minutes of my match. Well this is just fucking ideal isn't it?
A stage tech found me way too soon and told me that I was up next. I took a few deep breaths, which was the closest I was going to come to getting my emotions in check, and followed her to the stage. I stood around for a few minutes before the match before mine (Wade Barrett defeating Justin Gabriel) cleared off and I was signaled to begin my entrance.
As I stepped through the curtain I forced myself to remember Edge's words, and leave the personal bullshit behind me, giving my entrance all the energy I could. The warm welcome I received from the fans helped with that, and by the time I got into the ring, I was focused on the fight.
Triple H's music hit, and the Game appeared with a sheet of paper in his hand. "By order of the WWE Board of Directors and Vince McMahon himself, Amber will get the chance to challenge for a world title at Wrestlemania if and only if she defeats the man they have chosen for her to face tonight in a no-disqualification match. On that note-"
Triple H got cut off by the sound of heart-stopping pyro hitting, along with music that could belong to no one but the Devil's Favorite Demon. FUCK. I thought for the umpteenth time that night. Kane was apparently back from injury…an injury that I had dealt him no less, and I had to go through him to get my match at Wrestlemania. And last time I saw the Big Red Machine, he hadn't exactly been thrilled with me. Well this should be fucking interesting.
After Kane completed his entrance he turned to me and made the same throat-slashing motion that Undertaker was famous for. On the outside I stared at him passively while gesturing him to "bring it" with a hand motion. Inside I was fucking terrified, but there was no way in hell I was going to let Vince McMahon, the WWE Universe, and most importantly Kane figure that out.
The masked monster chuckled darkly at me as the bell rang. I responded the only way I knew how: with a battle cry that in a past life had chilled the blood of men Kane's size and larger. Granted, they were no fighters, but Kane's second of hesitation was still something, and it gave me the opening I needed to get the upper hand in the first exchange.
An interestingly placed headlock (Kane did have about six inches on me after all) turned into a rollover and I got the big man down for a few seconds, which was all I needed to execute a few well placed kicks to his right leg. I wasn't looking to do much damage, just to hopefully leave a few bruises and make it easier to get him back down.
He stood up and gave me a gut punch that sent me flying back into the turnbuckle with a sharp impact. He ran towards me, but I countered by throwing my feet up. I aimed for his face, but got his chest instead. Six of one, half a dozen. He stumbled back and I went in for a followup attack, but his counter reached me first- a face shot that sent me to my knees.
By the time I regained my bearings (which honestly could have taken anywhere from a few seconds to several days) Kane was no longer in the ring, and it took me a second to locate him- he was kneeling on the outside fishing under the ring, most likely for something to do horrible things to me with.
Using his preoccupation with finding the ideal weapon to my advantage, I rolled out of the ring on the other side and grabbed the first thing that I could find, which happened to be a fire extinguisher. Cena's gonna be proud. I grinned evilly at the thought and turned to Kane, who had realized what I was doing just as I pulled the weapon out from under the ring. I dodged his ladder shot LADDER? THE FUCK DID HE GET A LADDER? and gave him a burst of whatever was in the large red container for his trouble. He staggered backwards and I chased him, giving him a sharp push to the chest, which was enough to send him into the steel steps.
He tumbled over the steps and onto the floor, but the impact clearly wasn't all that much. The damage done seemed minimal. I took the few seconds I had and crawled back into the ring- it seemed like my best chance at the time. It was only when Kane joined me inside, still with that damned ladder in hand mind you, that I realized I probably should have tried for some more attacks while he was down. He knocked the fire extinguisher from my hands with a contemptuous swat, and sent me buckling to the floor with a ladder shot from…no pun intended… hell.
I had about enough time to blink and try to remember how to breathe before I had a massive hand around my throat, pulling me to my feet and then several feet off the ground before dropping me to the mat in a choke slam that made me understand just a little bit more why Kane is as universally feared as he is. He went into the cover and I remembered to kick out, mustering strength from an unknown location, about a millisecond before the referee's hand hit the mat for the third time.
I knew I had to come up with something, and quickly. Kane was making the throat-slashing motion again, and I had a feeling I wouldn't get up from a Tombstone Piledriver for…oh, I don't know…six or eight months. Knowing that the legitimately insane man in front of me would pull no punches, and had a very real desire to hurt me, badly, was enough to cause some adrenaline to surge through my body, enabling me to roll out of the ring and buy myself some time.
I reached under the ring, once again pulling out the first thing that came into my hand. This time it was a steel chair. It wasn't necessarily what I would've chosen if I'd had many options, but anything was better than my bare hands. I climbed back into the ring, shouted again, and, remembering that normal rules were not in effect, delivered a headshot with the chair that sent the Big Red Monster sprawling to the mat. It wasn't nice, but it was effective. Knowing that wouldn't be enough for the three-count and not having enough energy to spare for psychological warfare, I dragged my protesting body to the top rope and performed a modified Moonsault- the impact made me wonder whether I'd taken more damage than I'd dished out with that move- and dragged one of Kane's massive tree trunk-like legs up for the cover.
His kick out at the two count didn't surprise me per se, but it did disappoint me a bit. Some desperate part of me had been hoping that that could just be the end of it. That I could go back to the locker room, fall asleep, and wake up in several days. I shoved that part aside, waited for Kane to stagger to his feet (there was no way I was gonna drag him up) then planted him with a Storm Front that shook the ring with such ferocity that I wondered for a moment if it was going to come out from under us. The impact sent Kane's head flapping against the mat and his heavily lined eyes glazed over as I used my legs to maneuver him into a choke hold.
"Do you want to give up?" the referee asked, and got no response. When he asked again to the same effect a few seconds later, he grabbed Kane's arm and let go. The arm dropped to the mat. "ONE!" he shouted. He did it again. "TWO!" A third time. "THREE!" By the fourth time my hopes were actually beginning to rise that I had actually knocked the big man unconscious. "FOUR!" The next second felt like a life age as the referee turned back to Kane, lifted his arm in the air, then dropped it. The arm, miraculously, hit the mat. "FIVE!"
The ref gestured for the bell to be rung, and the match was over. I untangled myself from Kane's limp form, releasing the choke hold, and slumped back onto the mat myself for a moment or two. My energy was entirely gone. I finally sat up as the medical staff was getting to Kane and hauled my bruised and battered body backstage where Phil, Edge, and Lita were all waiting.
Edge clapped me on the back. "That's what I'm talking about!" Lita gave me a high five as Phil grabbed me and swung me around, giving me a kiss that woke me right up.
"Number one contender for a world title huh?" Phil grinned as we pulled away.
I sank down into a chair, thrilled that I was gonna get my Wrestlemania moment after all but exhausted from the day's events. "I'll think about that tomorrow. It's already been one hell of a day."
The rest of the show passed in a blur. I made a mental note to talk to Lita about what Tamina said at the next possible opportunity when I wasn't emotionally spent, then passed the rest of the night half asleep in Phil's locker room watching the show on and off. The long week had finally caught up with me. Granted I hadn't had any in ring action, but I hadn't slept more than an hour or so a night since every night was spent on the moving tour bus, and I'd done plenty of sparring and gym time, so this last match had basically taken the last drop of energy I had.
When the show was finally over we went to the first hotel we'd stayed at since last week's Raw. Phil and I said our goodnights when he dropped me off in front of the hotel and went to park the car, or so I thought until he walked into the lobby while I continued to fight with the receptionist. "What do you mean you can't find my damn reservation?" I growled. "I've been on the road for a week, I just got my ass kicked, its one in the morning, and you can't find my fucking reservation?"
"Ma'am I'm sorry, but it's not in my computer and we're booked solid for tonight."
"What's going on?" Phil asked, coming up next to me and seeing murder in my eyes.
"I apparently don't have a fucking room." I muttered. "And they apparently don't have any other rooms. Can I have the key to the bus? I'll just sleep there. I don't give a shit at this point."
Phil handed his ID to the extremely unhelpful receptionist who handed him his card without a word. "You can stay with me if you want" he offered, seemingly without reservation.
"If you don't mind." I answered. Normally I'd be a lot more reserved about sharing a room with someone I'd only been seeing for a week, but I trusted Phil with my life, and it's not like it would really be the first time anyway.
"Not at all. Shall we?" He gestured towards the elevator, and I nodded, repressing the urge to flip off the receptionist on our way to the room as she said "have a nice night!" in an overly cheerful voice.
"Bite me" I muttered under my breath, proud that I was able to keep it at that.
"Be nice" Phil laughed as we waited for the elevator.
I mock-glared at him. "I'll be nice in the morning."
"It is morning" his look and tone told me that he was actually trying to be annoying.
"Not helping" I muttered as we finally got to his room.
I changed quickly in the bathroom before sitting down on the bed. "Do you have a 'side'?" I asked, fairly well asleep where I sat.
"Nope. Go ahead."
I laid down on top of the covers and was out within seconds.
A/N: Alright. There's the next chapter. Please let me know what you think! Sorry if it got a bit disjointed towards the end, I'm a bit exhausted myself, but I refused to sleep till I got this published for you guys.
