Kevin Nash strode through the hall backstage with purpose, chin held high and tall stature dwarfing anyone who passed. He'd been called to a meeting during one of their house shows, this meant that it'd been made last minute and Bischoff had no other time to fit it in. On either side of him were his boys, Alex and Chris. They were clad in their 'Motor City Machine Guns' get-up, sparkling beautifully under the harsh light. They flanked him perfectly, growling at anyone who dared to look at them funny.

As their master, it should be his job to protect them. And he did, to an extent. His boys were lovers long before he'd come into the picture, and they were used to getting picked on and shoved around. They'd developed thick skin, but they now needed their Big Sexy like they needed their next breath. He was the element they'd been missing in their relationship, one they couldn't live without.

Chris hadn't been new to the dom/sub world. Apparently, he had an older brother who had a male sub. But Alex…he'd never even heard of the concept. It had taken Kevin and Chris a while to teach the youngest all the rules, the protocol and such, but he had gotten the hang of it.

"Do you know what this is about, Master?" Chris inquired lowly, making sure they were alone in the hall.

"No clue, Demon" Kevin replied, using their play name.

Back at home, there were two collars wrapped in silk sitting on a desk in a special room they called the playroom. One was a leather, red-silk thread embroidered collar that read 'Demon' in sketchy lettering. The other was white faux-leather with a velvet finished 'Angel' in fancy script across the front. They were both expensive and beautiful in their own way, jeweled clasps for each.

Of course, the doe-eyed man beside him was his 'angel', no other could fit that slot more perfectly than Alex. He was kind-hearted, innocent in most things, but energetic and enthusiastic to learn. He wasn't some prissy, timid mouse…but he wasn't exactly the devil Chris had proven himself to be. Chris was the one Kevin went to when he was in the mood to hurt, when he wanted to be rough, when he had a hard day. When he felt like biting and pounding and clawing…Chris was the one who could endure it, who could take it without protest and actually enjoy it.

Alex didn't like blood play, and if he ever limped the next day…it broke his master's heart.

They reached the office they'd been called to, the younger ones nervous. Alex's fingers flexed in small spasms, something he only did when he was anxious. Chris reached behind their master's back, taking one of his hand's in his own. They exchanged smiles, the older knew his best friend better than anyone else. Kevin looked between them proudly, glad that they'd found that special friendship and love all in one person.

Kevin could never be jealous of Alex and Chris's personal relationship. They'd given themselves to him, and that was enough. How could he begrudge them any type of affection?

Deciding there was no point standing out there, Kevin rapped the door with his knuckles. There was a long pause, one through which the young brunette shuffled his feet.

"Come in, boys."

Kevin wrinkled his nose at being called a 'boy', but he opened the door nonetheless. He went in first, eyes sweeping the room to make sure there was no danger there. What he found took the breath from his lungs, and he stood there positively dumbfounded for much too long. He felt small hands on his back, whispered words inquiring about his state of mind.

Eric was there on one end, but he wasn't the one in charge. Sitting dead in the middle of the table, on the other side as himself, was none other than his old friend Mark Calaway. He looked as menacing as ever, surpassing him in height but not in weight. They hadn't spoken face-to-face since he'd acquired his boys, they'd both been bragging on their new subs over a few drinks. Subtly drawn kohl touched the man's brilliant eyes, he was leaning back in his chair with a hand folded just beneath his chin. There, beside him, was the little darkling punk himself. His Straightedge arm bands were dyed black, blood-red X's across the back of them. His ebony lacquered nails glinted in the light, the bit of raven beard he had doing nothing to hide his fresh face. He had a buckled collar around his neck, on it…was a an Undertaker mark, etched into the burnt umber surface of it. The ring in his lip gleamed as well, drawing one's attention to his not-quite-full mouth. Raven tresses fell into his face, fingers steepled in front of him.

They were an intimidating pair.

Eric looked strained and pale, but he gestured, "Sit, Nash."

Kevin ignored him.

"It's been a long time, Mark" Kevin drawled "A year? Two?"

"Little longer than that" Mark clicked his tongue "Much too long for good friends like us."

Kevin inclined his head, but didn't reply.

"Boys" Kevin rumbled "Sit."

Chris and Alex did as they were told, sitting on either side of the spot Kevin had a hand on (which was for himself.) They were in their leather and chains, Chris's hood (which he quickly raked back) had spikes on it like those of a metal dinosaur, and links of silver stretched across his jacket. Alex's punk-star arm bands glittered, as did his forearm cuffs. They were a lovely sight, a young sight.

Punk smiled at them, he'd watched the young Guns perform on TNA a countless number of times. But this was the first time he'd met them. The subs seemed to acknowledge that this was like a meeting of The Court, where they didn't speak unless told to. He glanced toward his intimidating master, then toward Nash. There was a tension there, but it was the best kind of tension. It spoke of history, of old alliances and hopefully new ones.

There was a clipboard on the table, a contract hooked to it.

Kevin's eyes never left the younger man's, he'd always trumped Mark in years as well. Six years, actually. He sat down, choosing to sit with his elbows braced on the desk. It was the exact opposite of Mark in every way, he was the opposite of him in every way.

/This is good/ Mark mused /I need this./

"What could make The Undertaker trudge all the way down to the 7th layer of the Pro-Wrestling world?" Kevin wondered aloud.

"That wit, right there, I've missed it" Mark smirked, gesturing "Your boys are beautiful."

"I do take my pride in them" Kevin replied "Alex here was born right in my hometown, both from my state."

"Like they were made for you" the Deadman chuckled darkly.

"Yes" Kevin's eyes slid over to Phil, who quirked an eyebrow at him "Every year, your punk gets more handsome. He's barely older than my Chris. It seems we can't keep our hands off the youngblood."

Mark said nothing, just gave a small nod of agreement.

"Speaking of them…" Kevin began to relax, leaning back in his chair "Do you see any potential masters amongst those NXT brats?"

"Hmm, not so much" Mark tisked "I see that Matt's young Justin Gabriel is a sub. Maybe in the next batch."

Kevin had spread his upper arms along the back of his chair, one hand reaching out and caressing Chris's neck. The young man leaned into it, knowing his master loved to play with his long hair.

"Why'd you come here?" Kevin inquired, getting to the question he'd been wanting to ask.

Mark gave a frown, "Can't an old friend come see another old friend?"

Kevin gave a sharp laugh, then cut himself short, "No."

Mark actually threw his head back and laughed. He'd missed Kevin so much in his everyday life. There were only so many people in this world who would call him out on his bullshit. Kevin couldn't stop himself and began to chuckle as well. Their shared laughter was like thunder in the closed space. Alex ducked his head, a small smile appearing on his face. Chris and Punk met eyes, raised eyebrows, but didn't say anything.

"Look at this" Mark pushed the clipboard towards the older man. With the lightening-fast reflexes of men half his age, Kevin slapped his hand down on the board and whipped it around to peer at the contract stuck there. He started to read over it, eyes widening slowly as he realized just what he had in front of him. He looked to the Head Master, wary of his intentions.

"Do you know what you're offering me?"

"Not just you" Phil spoke up for the first time, reaching into his Hot Topic skeleton hoody and pulling out two folded, thick pieces of paper. He slid one over to Chris, another over to Alex. The Motor City brats hesitated, looking to their master for permission. Kevin nodded, and (almost in unison) they unfolded the contracts and began to read.

The contracts were for WWE, the details of pay and time there. Promises of title runs, depending on crowd reaction and so forth. It was for all three of them, with Kevin promised more behind-the-scene and managing jobs (even an announcer spot) if he should choose to take it easy on the matches.

"This is silver" Kevin sat back in the chair, narrowing his eyes suspicious.

This confused the other man, "I don't know what you mean."

"I know thirty pieces of silver when I see it" Kevin's eyes were sharp, he wasn't one to let the shoe drop before he got it's size and weight "What's the catch? Whose so important that you need three TNA dregs to fill in the spot?"

Alex opened his mouth to protest to being called a 'dreg', but a large hand cupped the back of his head and threaded through his hair.

"Not you two, Angel" Kevin soothed without looking at either of the Guns.

Punk looked confused, and he shot his master a look. Mark's grin had dropped, he looked more solemn than ever. There was a…a sadness in his eyes, the worry lines in his face more pronounced. He looked like a man who'd lost his best friend, and that's when it hit him.

"No, Mark…don't tell me that" Kevin slowly closed his eyes, letting the realization wash over him "Don't tell me he's…he's leaving, isn't he?"

Punk was looking at his master with shock, he hadn't known about anyone leaving.

"Shawn is…tired" Mark began slowly, ignoring his sub's sharp inhale "He's going to retire in the next few months. He's done a lot in his years, and he's ready to relax. Maybe he'll come back…but I doubt it."

"I'm so sorry, Mark" Kevin folded his hands on the table, letting his weight rest on his forearms "But what do you want from me?"

"I need a new second, my Court will be left with no Beta" Mark began, he sounded very official "Cena isn't ready, too much has happened for him to take up the responsibility just yet. One day he'll make a good Head Master…a leader for his generation. But until then, I need someone I can trust beside me. You can help me guide him, mold him into what we know will last in this industry. Who would know better than us?"

Kevin was greatly surprised at this offer. It'd been years since he'd been in the Court, since he'd had responsibilities. He'd found his own life here, away from loyalty that didn't extend past his boys. A small part of him wanted to keep that kind of life. But the larger part of him, the dominant/Master part of him, had seen the looks the locker room gave his boys and he knew he couldn't trust anyone there.

"You've weeded out the snakes in the WWE, haven't you?" Kevin asked softly.

"Yes" Mark assured him, a tone of low drawl "Though half came from your side of the garden…yes, they're gone. My court is greatly respected now. No one's so much as sparred with the boys since the rumors started."

"I see" Kevin wasn't surprised by this, Mark had told him himself what they'd done to the men who'd taken it upon themselves to try and knock the Court down a peg "Well, those are some pretty promises."

Mark cocked his head at Bischoff, "How much do you want for these three?"

"They're not cattle" Eric scoffed, but there were dollar signs in his eyes.

Mark rolled his eyes, "Of course not."

The Deadman held out his hand expectantly. Punk immediately sat back, pulling open his hoody-jacket once more to reveal a silk pocket. He reached inside, the same place where he'd kept the contracts, and pulled out a small folded check. He handed it to his master, getting a little buss across his knuckles in thanks. Mark slid it over to the slighter man, who snatched it up greedily and looked at the figure.

"You'll get a little bit more from Vince" Mark's smirk came back "If you're lucky."

Eric was drooling at the mouth, eyes shiny as the dollar signs in them doubled.

Kevin briefly read over both his boys' contracts, glad to see they could keep their gimmick and their names. They wouldn't be a tag-team right away, but in a year or so they could pick back up where they were now. He looked into their young faces, seeing the unbridled excitement at the proposition of going to the WWE.

"We'll do whatever you want" Alex whispered, knowing it needed to be said "Wherever you want to go…we'll follow."

Kevin seemed pleased by this answer. He looked up at his old friend, holding out his palm.

"We need some pens."

Mark gladly passed along the instruments, his nerves settling as he heard the first clicks of the pens.

xXx

A month later, Kevin found himself bonded quite closely to Randy and Chris in particular. It seemed their subs had become the best of friends in the same time it took Jay to get used to having the Guns around. The three masters were lounging on the back porch of Chris's new house, there was no humidity in South Carolina and the cool breeze from the nearby sea took away the glare of the sun.

Chris, Alex, Evan, and Cody were inside right now killing each other on a game called Halo III. Even with a swollen belly and faint nausea, Cody was kicking all their butts. When they'd first met, Alex had politely asked to touch his belly while Chris was already stroking his ears and tail. Cody had fallen in love with the Guns, it was good to have men his own age around who had the energetic and upbeat nature of Evan. That's what had attracted the Bourne kid to them, their similarities.

"I knew you'd make it" Kevin drawled suddenly, head inclined toward the blonde. Chris raised his brows behind his sunglasses, and Randy put down his book.

"Me?"

"Yeah, Chris" Kevin chuckled lightly "Back when you were the little green spurt, the new master. I was sure you'd find someone and take care of him. When you took that boy in there…I was a little worried. He's almost half your age."

Chris's lips turned in a smirk, "So is Alex."

"Touché."

Kevin and Chris clinked beers, laughing at a joke that Randy didn't quite get.