Chapter 36: Just Another Promo
Elektra inched forward on the canvas seat of the makeup chair, twisting her hands in her lap. She stared vacantly at her reflection in the brightly lit vanity mirror, her silver eyes dull and glassy. She sat as still as a statue, but every few minutes, her limbs would move, occupying themselves with some trivial gesture—adjusting a bobby pin, smoothing back a stray strand of hair, applying another layer of lip gloss. But these actions were meaningless, physical reflexes devoid of purpose whose sole aim was to distract her attention from its ceaseless mental turmoil.
Christmas had been two days ago, and ever since then, Elektra had felt like dying. Anxiety over the success of this latest plan's success, plus the fear that had become a constant part of her daily life, had slowly but surely eaten away at her well-being, effectively ruining her holiday. Even Christmas Day had been a struggle; trying to put on a happy face for her family, never once hinting that her stomach was tying itself in granny knots.
And then there was the unavoidable fact that after tonight, she would not see Batista again for thirteen days. Worse, that for those thirteen long days, she would have to pretend to hate him. That, more than anything else, was what killed her inside. That was what made her feel as though someone was pouring battery acid on her heart.
The plan had actually been in motion since late afternoon. Elektra and the Animal had arrived at the arena in separate vehicles, and their greeting in the parking lot had been brusque, bordering on tense. Without displaying any affection toward each other, they headed to their respective locker rooms. Not even an hour had gone by before the entire roster was buzzing about possible cracks in the seemingly impenetrable relationship of Raw's newest power couple.
In a few minutes, Batista would join her here in the makeup room, and when they exited, they would execute the final stage of their strategy: a nasty and very public breakup.
Elektra felt as though she was sending Batista off to war, and in a sense, she was. In order to go to war with Triple H, you had to play by the Game's rules, and that meant giving him exactly what he needed to hear. The gray-eyed Diva had tried to rationalize by telling herself that this sacrifice was necessary for Batista to regain the Cerebral Assassin's trust; more importantly, that it was only temporary and after two weeks, things would go back to normal. But Elektra, try as she might, couldn't shake the idea that they would never go back; that the make-believe hatred between her and the Animal would somehow become real.
That possibility scared her even more than Triple H.
There was a soft knock on the door. Elektra looked up sharply, the sound jarring her uncomfortably back to the present. Sliding off the chair, she walked slowly over to the door, opening it a crack.
The Animal peered through from the hallway, his expression serious. "Hey, baby," he greeted in a low voice.
The silver-eyed Diva quickly opened the door wider, allowing Batista access to the makeup room. As soon as he was in, she shut the door behind him. Batista gently pulled her into his embrace, kissing the top of her head. "I'd ask you how you're doing," he murmured. "But from the look on your face, I'm guessing you feel as shitty as I do."
"Dave…" Elektra drew back, pressing her hands to his chest, staring up into his eyes. The expression on her face was filled with doubt and sadness. "I'm so scared… this could all blow up in our faces." She ducked her head down, staring at the floor. "If this doesn't work…Hunter will destroy us both."
"Hey," Batista put his finger under her chin, tilting her head up. "It's going to work, okay?" Elektra still didn't look convinced. "Listen to me, it's going to work." the Animal reiterated, more forcefully this time. "We both know Hunter: he only believes what he wants to believe. And the one thing he'd love to see more than anything else is the two of us apart." Batista caressed her face, trailing the tips of his fingers down her cheek. "Once this is over, once he thinks you're not a threat anymore; that I've finally come to my senses…he'll leave you alone. More importantly, he'll let his guard down. When that happens—" Batista's tender expression disappeared; replaced by one of cold intimidation. "—I'm gonna beat him at his own game. I'll let him think that I've got his back, but once we're inside that cage, I'm gonna take away his World Heavyweight Championship. And after it's over," The Animal wrapped his arms around Elektra's waist, pulling her close again. "I'm gonna have you come out to the ring, just so the great Triple H can see how he's been played all along. At New Year's Revolution, I'm gonna prove to him once and for all that I am better than he is."
Elektra turned around, leaning back against the Animal, gazing at their reflected images. "It's a good plan," she admitted. "And there's no logical reason why it shouldn't work. But knowing the Game…I have a feeling it's not going to be that simple."
Unfortunately, Batista didn't have an answer for her. After a minute or two passed, he spoke again, abruptly changing the subject. "Once we go through with this, you make sure that you always have an escort, all right? I don't care if you're just going to the bathroom; you find another Diva to drag along with you." He hesitated, and in that infinitely small pause, the Animal revealed his one true weakness: his love for her. "I don't want you wandering around by yourself once we're apart." he finished.
Elektra's expression didn't change, but her whole body began to tremble. "You mean, in case he still decides to come after me." she interjected, vocalizing the one thing both of them were thinking.
"Look, I don't care how good the plan is; I'm not going to give that bastard another opportunity to hurt you again," Batista replied, albeit a little harshly. "If he comes anywhere near you, this whole thing is off—"
"No," Elektra shook her head again, violently this time. "No, the plan stays, regardless." She saw surprise flash across the Animal's features, and turned around, gazing up at him. "This isn't just about you or me anymore; it's about the World Heavyweight Championship, too. You can't beat Triple H if you're worrying about me all the time."
"But after what happened last time—" Batista tried to protest.
"—it could happen again, I know." Elektra interrupted. "But I'm sick of running away from him." She stepped forward, leaning her head against the Animal's chest. "Look, I am terrified of Hunter, all right? If you and Ric hadn't shown up…" She shuddered at the memory of her last encounter with the Game. "I don't even want to think about what he would have done to me; what he still wants to do to me. But I've spent my entire career being afraid of that man, and as long as he knows about that fear, he'll keep coming after me." She moved back, reaching up to touch Batista's cheek. "Don't you get it? It doesn't matter what you do to him; in the end, the only person who can make it stop is me. Sooner or later, he's going to back me into a corner, and I'm going to have to make a choice: cower, like I've always done, or fight back. And I'm tired of cowering." Tears pooled in her eyes, but she fought them, biting her lip, pushing her emotions back inside her, into that little chamber where she had locked away her heart for ten months.
Without speaking, Batista grabbed her arms and pulled her into a kiss, one that was desperate and passionate and tender all at once. His lips moved over hers as though he would never get another chance to kiss her again, as though this was the last time they would ever hold one another. When they finally separated, gasping for breath, Elektra wanted to weep. Her body was already aching for him, somehow anticipating his absence.
Batista's mouth brushed lightly against her cheek. "Are you ready?" he whispered, his breath dancing across her skin like a warm breeze.
"No," Elektra admitted, her voice on the verge of cracking with emotion. Nevertheless, she stepped back, and taking hold of Batista's hand, slowly walked toward the door, feeling like a condemned prisoner traveling his final mile. She was about to grasp the knob when the Animal tugged at her hand, turning her back around. Reaching up, he tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, gazing at her with a mixture of tenderness and trepidation.
"Remember," he murmured. "Just think of it as—"
"—Another promo." Elektra cut in. "Only this time, it's not the fans we have to convince—"
"—It's everyone else." Batista concluded. He slid his hand around to the back of her head, pulling her close and kissing her cheek. "I love you," he whispered. "No matter what I say out there, you remember that."
"I love you, too." Elektra answered, pressing her body against his for an instant, wishing that time would just stop. She drew back, and fell silent as she and the Animal cast one last longing look at one another. Staring into each other's eyes, they gradually let their loving expressions transform into ones of impatience and annoyance; hiding their true feelings as completely as a performer hides his features behind a mask.
Elektra opened the door, signaling the start of the charade. Batista pushed her out into the hall; just enough to make her stumble. As she regained her footing, she cast a surreptitious glance at the hallway up ahead. On one side, the Intercontinental Champion Shelton Benjamin was stretching, most likely preparing for an upcoming Beat the Clock match-up. Along the opposite wall, Maria and Christy were chatting. Elektra lowered her gaze before any of them could realize they were being observed.
Grabbing her hand, the Animal pulled her roughly to her feet, tugging her impatiently down the hall. Digging her heels in, Elektra pulled her hand free, though not without some effort. "Let go of me!" she hissed through gritted teeth.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Christy look up.
Batista turned back toward her, scowling. "Now what the hell's your problem?" he growled.
Elektra raised her eyebrows. "Excuse me? My problem? My problem is that you don't even come up and visit me over the holidays because you couldn't be bothered, but yet you still expect me to accompany you to the ring like nothing's changed."
Batista rolled his eyes toward the ceiling. "Goddammit, I thought we were done having this argument." he muttered. He lowered his gaze, glaring at her. "Did it ever occur to you that I might be busy over the holidays?"
Elektra, however, refused to back down. "Not even a phone call, Dave, on Christmas Day. It's like you fell off the face of the earth for ten days—"
"Hey!" the Animal interrupted. "Quit trying to make me the bad guy here! I sent you a gift!"
Elektra jammed her right hand in his face, fingers spread. Light glinted off the silver band. "Oh, yeah, big whup there. Nothing screams romance like a FedEx envelope." Her gray eyes narrowed. "You cheap bastard." she added in a low voice.
With the speed of a predator lunging for its prey, Batista grabbed her arm, jerking her toward him roughly. Elektra let out a small cry of astonishment as his fingers dug into her skin. At the far end of the hall, other Superstars had begun to gather, some halting in mid-stride to watch the altercation unfold.
"Keep your voice down," the Animal commanded, an undercurrent of menace in his voice. "You're embarrassing yourself."
Elektra tore herself free, clutching her upper arm. "You mean I'm embarrassing you." she spat. She stared at Batista, her expression furious. "Far be it from me to humiliate Evolution's Animal before his big qualifying match." The silver-eyed Diva took a step backward. "You know, ever since Bischoff put you in the Elimination Chamber, you've been strutting around here like you're God's gift to sports entertainment. Thinking you're better than everyone else…thinking you're better than me." She pointed her finger at Batista, the tip of her fingernail only a few inches from his face. "Just remember, Dave, what I gave up to be with you, okay? I was the Women's Champion. I was with the Game. I—"
Batista swatted her hand away. "Don't flatter yourself," he interjected sarcastically. "You lost your title two months ago. How many title matches have you been in since then? Oh, that's right, zero." The Animal barged ahead before Elektra could answer. "And as for the Game…you were desperate to leave him. You were ready to shack up with the first guy who came along, and unfortunately, that happened to be me."
Elektra's mouth opened and closed, as she struggled to regain her composure. "Unfortunately?" she managed to spit out. "What the hell do you mean by that?"
The Animal's mouth curled into a small sneer. "Let's just say that I'm beginning to think that Hunter was right about you."
There were a few gasps from the crowd. By now, at least half the roster lined the length of the hallway. Some of them were whispering excitedly amongst themselves.
Batista continued. "I get the first major title match of my career, and are you supportive? No. Instead, you stand there whining and complaining like a spoiled little bitch."
Elektra's mouth dropped open. "How dare you!" she exclaimed. "You can't talk to me that way?"
"Why not?" Batista replied, his voice mocking. "Because I'm right?" By now, he had slipped completely into character. The expression on his face was unrecognizable. Elektra saw nothing of the man she knew and loved. This was the Batista that everyone had warned her about. The man who took out Bill Goldberg. The man who had aligned himself with Evolution. The man who had dominated the competition without remorse or pity until she arrived. The Animal continued. "Admit it, you've always thought that you're too good for me, just because you spent the first ten months of your career fucking the Cerebral Assassin. Well, guess what, babe? That doesn't make you better; it just makes you a whore."
Elektra's pale eyes widened. With all of the swiftness and force of a willow branch in the wind, she brought her hand up, nailing Batista across the face with a vicious slap that echoed along the corridor. "Bastard!" she whispered hoarsely.
The singular sound brought instant silence to the crowd of Superstars. If a pin had dropped at that moment, it would have sounded like a gunshot.
Elektra backed away, her chest heaving, her slender fingers curled into claws. When she spoke, her voice was low and controlled, but just barely. "Well, I guess you have one less thing holding you back," She paused for a fraction of a second. "It's over."
Batista's face hardened. "Fine." he retorted, his tone emotionless.
Elektra started to say something else, but snapped her mouth shut instead and spun around on her heel, heading toward the far end of the hallway with rapid strides.
"Yeah, that's right, just walk away like you always do!" the Animal called after her bitterly. "Once I win the World Title, you'll come crawling back."
Elektra halted, not turning around. "Fuck you," she spat.
"Sorry, we already played that game," Batista shot back. "So why don't you find someone else with a title belt and bang the shit out of them!"
This time, Elektra did spin back around to face him. Her expression was livid. "Maybe I will!" she retorted. She stepped toward the Animal, glowering. "So here! Take back this piece of crap!" Without really knowing what she was doing, she tore the silver ring from her finger, hurling it at Batista. It hit his massive chest and bounced off, hitting the floor with a PING and spinning in a slow circle. The Animal stared down at the piece of jewelry cautiously, almost as though he expected it to leap up and bite him.
Before he could add a final insult, Elektra stomped away, her white stilettos beating out a furious rhythm on the concrete floor. She could make out familiar faces on either side of the hallway, but her dull sense of recognition was secondary to the almost incapacitating pain blossoming in her chest. She felt at those her heart was about to collapse inward upon itself, shrinking until there was nothing left. Elektra moved faster and faster, her walk turning into a jog, then a run. The other Superstars became nothing more than blurs of color in her vision.
She reached the end of the corridor and they parted, letting her pass without saying a word. Elektra barely noticed; she was just grateful that she wasn't faking the tears streaming down her cheeks.
The grey-eyed Diva turned on the faucet, but instead of splashing the cool water on her face, she stared listlessly at the colorless liquid swirling down the drain. She gripped the edges of the sink, her fingertips sliding on the slick white porcelain surface. Elektra leaned down until her dark hair fell forward, hiding her face and brushing the rim of the basin.
The only sound in the restroom was the gurgle of running water, but inside Elektra's head, her mind was screaming from the onslaught of unwanted auditory memories. The nasty verbal barbs that she and Batista had exchanged still reverberated off the inner walls of her skull, the words occasionally flickering across her vision in bloody shades of crimson. It wasn't as though she had heard anything unexpected; she and the Animal had talked long and hard about what to say and how to say it. But all the discussion in the world didn't make actually hearing it any easier.
Elektra heard the door creak open and looked up, her body tensed. However, when she saw that it was just Trish, she relaxed, her breath escaping from her lungs in a soft sigh.
The blond Diva twisted the bolt on the restroom door, locking out the rest of the world, and walked over to Elektra, slipping her arm around her waist comfortingly. "Hey, hon, how're you doing?" she asked softly.
It was a stupid question and both of them knew it. Nonetheless, Elektra felt a small twinge of relief, glad to know that at least one person understood what she was going through.
Elektra had originally intended not to tell anyone else, but she soon realized that she would need another partner in crime, because there was no way she would be able to go through this alone. Aside from Batista, there was only one other person on the Raw roster that she trusted implicitly, and that was Trish Stratus. Elektra sometimes marveled at the strange path that their friendship had taken in the past year: a few months ago, they had been bitter enemies; now, she considered Trish to be her closest female friend in the business.
"I feel like I'm going to throw up," the silver-eyed Diva replied, her voice shaky. She ran her fingers through her hair absently, pushing it back from her face. Pinching the bridge of her nose between her finger and thumb, she squeezed her eyes shut, trying to calm her shallow breathing before she hyperventilated. Her heartbeat slowly returned to normal and she continued. "I've put on a lot of acts since I first came here, but that was the hardest thing that I've ever had to do. Saying those things…and then walking away…I don't know how I did it, Trish, I honestly don't. And the worst part…as if anything good happened out there…is that I couldn't even look around to see if it was working. There I was, putting myself through the most painful heartache of my life, without even knowing if it was worth it."
Trish was silent for a few moments. When she finally spoke, the former Women's Champion sounded pensive. "I still don't know if all this crap you're putting yourself through is 'worth it', but if it's reassurance that you want…they all bought it."
Elektra glanced up from the sink, swallowing hard. "They did?" she asked, her voice a curious blend of hope and defeat.
Trish nodded soberly, biting her lip. "Yeah…some of the guys, you know, were skeptical at first, but once you hurled that ring…" The blond Diva looked away, her lips curving in a bitter approximation of a smile. "Well...they're all believers now; let's leave it at that." She paused. "All those things you said out there—that he said—were they planned?"
Elektra shrugged. "Most of them. The rest, well…" She let the thought trail off, but Trish didn't need to hear it vocalized to know what she meant. The former Women's Champion knew all too well about the core of darkness that lurked inside every WWE Superstar. That blackness was located closer to the surface for some, thus accounting for the Triple H's and the Randy Orton's of the world. For others, it took great effort to tap into that hidden heart of shadows, but once they did, they could either cut the promo of their life…or do something they would ultimately regret. Trish prayed that, at least for Elektra's sake, this situation would not fall into the latter category.
"Trish?" The blond Diva almost missed Elektra's query over the ceaseless noise of running water. The former First Lady of Evolution turned to look at her, her silvery eyes twin mirrors of sadness. "What if…" She hesitated, as though uttering the possibility could somehow make it a reality. "What if, after all this is over, he doesn't come back? What if Hunter manages to worm his way back into his mind? Or what if Dave just decides that it's easier watching his own back than always trying to protect mine? What if—"
"Hon, stop," Trish ordered gently. "Come here." Before Elektra could say anything else, Trish wrapped her arms around her, pulling her into a hug. It was a bit awkward, since the gray-eyed Diva was several inches taller, but at this point, neither one of them really cared.
"First of all," Trish continued. "That's an awful lot of 'What ifs'. Haven't you put yourself through enough this evening? Second…" She pulled back, grabbing Elektra by the shoulders and shaking her gently. "He's going to come back, all right? He will always come back." Trish smiled. "Ever since you first came here, the only person he's ever had eyes for is you. The entire Diva roster could be standing right in front of him, wearing their skimpiest bikinis, rubbing baby oil all over themselves, and he wouldn't even notice, let alone care. But if he sees you at the other end of the hall… " Trish paused, letting the thought sink in. "His whole face lights up, and from then on, the rest of us are invisible to him. I've known—hell, anyone with half a brain has known—that he loves you."
"But what about Hunter?" Elektra pressed, casting her gaze toward the floor.
"What about him?" Trish replied. She peered up at the gray-eyed Diva. "Hon, a year ago, you came into Evolution and without even trying, you changed all of Batista's perceptions about his so-called leader. Since then, Triple H has never been able to manipulate the Animal again, and he knows it. So don't worry about the Game's influence on Batista. Hunter may have some pretty dirty tricks up his sleeve, but the one thing he can't beat is Dave's love for you."