Raging Storm
Chapter 1: It Begins
By: Jay Winger

Note: this is set after the final Storm Warning fic, which happened to be the collaborative effort with Boulder, "Breakdown."

Teaser: a new face arrives in the WWF, and upon finding out, the Storm inexplicably loses control.

Rating: R - for violence and profanity

Disclaimer: All things WWF are property of Titan Sports. The characters of Matthew "the Storm" Skinner, Rain, and Billy Rose are completely fictional. I do incorporate a few traits from existing WWF wrestlers, but for the most part, they're my creations.

MONDAY: RAW is WAR, 29 May

The esteemed commissioner of the World Wrestling Federation (also the eternal King of Hardcore and once King of the Japanese Deathmatch), Mick Foley, set up his various decorations in tonight's "office" -- which was a broom closet. His potted cactus clashed horribly with the lava lamp on the board he'd had nailed to the wall, but this was typical Foley. His "commissioner" sign was stapled to the front of this board, and a few stuffed toy puppies lined the board between the cactus and lava lamp. A small stereo was playing some nameless rock music while the Commish played air guitar with a broom from inside the closet.

"Foley!" came a woman's voice. Mick put down the broom and leaned on it as a dark-haired woman came up. She was wearing a dark t-shirt that read I am a Force of Nature on the front, with two blue lightning bolts arcing down from the shoulders. She was taller than most of the women in the WWF, and her slender body masked her deceptive strength. Her eerie pale blue eyes were hidden behind dark round sunglasses. She walked up to the Commissioner's "office door" and leaned against the wall. "What's new, Mick?"

"Stuffed puppy," Mick replied, indicating the pastel green one in the center of the line on the board. "What's up, Rain?"

"What's Up? R.E.M.'s album," Rain replied. This exchange was typical between the two -- as well as between Mick and Rain's partner, the Storm. One would ask what was new and get an appropriate reply, and then the other would ask what was up, to which they would get an equally appropriate reply. Rain tilted down her sunglasses. "So seriously, Mick, what's new?"

"We got this new guy the other day. Just signed his contract," Mick said. He grinned. "He's a really nice guy. From California, I think. Apparently he's a big name on the independent circuits on the West Coast."

"Cool," Rain said in her silky voice. "Does he have a match tonight?"

"Not tonight," Mick said. "Maybe Thursday. He's in the arena, though, hanging out in the McMahon dressing room. People have been dropping by to say hello to him all night."

Rain nodded. "Thanks, Mick. What about Storm or me? We have any matches tonight?"

Mick grinned again. "Yup, ya do. You two are having an intergender tag match against Kurt Angle and Trish Stratus."

Rain smiled, but not pleasantly. She liked this, but it promised a great deal of discomfort for the Olympic Hero and the former fitness model. "When's the match?"

"It's the second match-up," Mick replied, "right after Benoit-Billy Gunn."

Rain nodded. She started off, but stopped and turned back. "By the way, Mick, you never told me the new guy's name."

"Oh." Mick reached into a pocket of his blue flannel shirt and unfolded a piece of paper. "Uh, Rose. Billy Rose."

* * *

When Hunter Hearst Helmsley and his wife Stephanie arrived in their dressing room, they found Steph's older brother Shane talking with a handsome young man with a lean face and a pointed jaw. He had piercing dark eyes and short dirty-blond hair, which he had highlights added to, making his haircut look quite trendy. He was wearing a long-sleeved, off-white shirt under a red sweater vest, along with dark slacks. All in all, Triple H thought he looked like he could have been someone out of the Mean Street Posse.

"Steph!" Shane said cheerfully. "Glad you and Hunter could make it. Billy, this is my sister Stephanie and her husband--"

"Triple H," the stranger said pleasantly. He smiled, and Triple H noticed that it was the sort of smile that most weaker-willed women would swoon about. Stephanie, however, seemed to take it in stride. The stranger went on, "Yeah, I've seen you on TV."

"Yeah, well," Shane plowed on, "Hunter, Steph, this is the guy who just signed the contract -- Billy Rose."

Rose stood up and offered a friendly handshake to Triple H, who smiled -- or possibly smirked -- and engulfed the slightly-smaller man's hand in his own more muscular grip. The Game squeezed a bit to test the newcomer's mettle, but Rose continued to smile pleasantly as he squeezed back. They broke grips and then Hunter smiled true. "Nice to meet ya," he said.

"Likewise," Rose said. "Been a dream of mine to get to the big-time. The WWF! Wow. Woulda thought I'd make it here and be hanging with the McMahons on my first night?"

Triple H grinned. "Yeah, nice work there. Play your cards right, you could hit the top around here -- though that means you'd have to step into the ring with me."

"Hey," Rose said, spreading his hands, "I understand that. I came here to play with the big boys. If I gotta start at the bottom, hey, so be it. But I believe in getting a foot up -- and it's been my experience that a little schmoozing goes a long way." He grinned.

"That it does, man," Triple H replied. He turned to Shane. "So what's he gonna be doing tonight?"

"Dad said he could have the night off so he could get to know everybody," Shane said. "I'm thinking of giving him a little TV time later on so the fans can get to know him, but no ring action until Thursday, probably."

Rose nodded. "Don't wanna overpush myself. Just last week I had my 'farewell' match at the last independent league I was in, and I took a nasty fall when a guy shoved me off the turnbuckle. Nearly broke my leg." But he smiled. "Never stopped me though."

Hunter looked at Stephanie. "Sounds almost like Storm or something, huh?"

Rose frowned, puzzled. "Who?"

"Ah, never mind," Triple H said. "He's a nobody. Don't worry about him."

Shane turned on their monitor and sat back down on the couch as the first match started -- Chris Benoit's match against Billy Gunn -- and soon Rose was sitting back down beside him, helping himself to vegetables and dip from the tray. Triple H and Stephanie joined them in silence.

* * *

Rain was hanging around in the shared locker room of herself, the Storm, and their comrades -- the Acolytes, Jacqueline, and Stone Cold Steve Austin. They all had a few things in common -- they were all fond of kicking ass, they were all fond of drinking beer, and they were all from Texas. Collectively, they called themselves Lone Star. The Acolytes had not yet arrived that night, and Jacqueline wasn't scheduled to be in at all. Austin was off elsewhere.

The door opened and a tall man with dark hair and a mustache and goatee walked in. He wore dark sunglasses that made it impossible to read the intent behind his blase expression, as well as a black t-shirt that said GeT SeT To GeT WReCKeD on the back, the front sporting blue lightning bolts arcing from the shoulders and a stylized exclamation point in the center. He wore dark jeans and black boots. A duffel bag was slung over one shoulder as he entered. He spotted Rain and grinned, setting down his bag and removing his sunglasses. His eyes were blue-gray, and were unusually cold.

"`Bout time you showed up," Rain remarked.

"My flight was delayed," the Storm replied. "Glad to see you made it here okay with Faarooq and Bradshaw. They still at the hotel?"

"Yeah," Rain said, "and probably cleaning out the minibar. But you hardly have time to get ready for our match. We've got an intergender tag with Angle and Trish."

"Ah, those two?" the Storm asked, opening his duffel and extracting a pair of black fingerless gloves. He tugged these on as he replaced his sunglasses. "Think we can win?"

"Against those two?" Rain said. She laughed. "Please. They're gonna get annihilated."

* * *

"The following intergender tag team match is scheduled for one fall."

Patriotic horn music played as Kurt Angle and Trish Stratus emerged at the top of the ramp. Kurt smiled broadly, waving to the crowd like a man returning from war. Trish, who was wearing a blue top and dark skintight miniskirt, walked along beside him, a sultry little smile on her face. "Introducing first, the team of TRISH STRATUS and Olympic gold-medalist KURT ANGLE!" Angle turned around and raised his arms as pyros shot off like the Fourth of July. Angle tapped his gold medals as he jumped into the ring, still smiling and turning around for his fans to appreciate.

A guitar chord sounded and built to a crescendo as a silhouette of a man in a downpour raised his arms to the sides. "Damage, Inc." by Metallica began to play over clips of the Storm and Rain as the two emerged on the top of the ramp. The Storm glared around at the crowd, then glanced over at Rain before shooting his arms into the air, snarling and posing. Rain raised her arms overhead, holding out her hands and throwing her head back. "And their opponents, from Dallas, Texas, they are members of Lone Star -- THE STORM and RAIN!"

The Storm and Rain both whipped off their sunglasses, tossing them to a nearby stagehand, and then charged the ring. The Storm ducked Angle's clothesline and shot off the ropes to hit a big-time dropkick to the Olympian's face. Trish, on the other hand, fled the ring, rather than face Rain, who sprinted after her. Trish cowered against the security railing as Rain stalked up to her and started to wallop her face with a fist. The Storm dragged Angle away from the ropes, then twisted his legs into a Figure-Four Leglock. Angle shouted in pain, arching his back and trying to disentangle his legs, but the Storm merely increased the pressure.

Outside, Trish managed to reverse one of Rain's jabs and slammed the Texan woman's head into the barrier. She followed up with a bulldog headlock on the floor, then crawled into the ring. She planted one of her boots into the side of the Storm's head, prompting the Force of Nature to release Angle and grab her by the hair. He snarled at her, then hoisted her up on his shoulder. He held her there for a moment, pointing out at the audience. "Lightning!" he shouted. But before he could complete his piledriver, Angle ran forward and clipped the back of the Storm's knee. He went down, Trish rolling off of him and out of the ring.

Angle stomped on the Storm's chest, trying to keep the Texan down. He stood the Storm up and hit a German suplex. Trish tagged in and ascended to the top for a legdrop. The Storm rolled away and got up, walloping Angle in the face with a right hand, then pulling Trish over to his corner by the hair. He tagged in Rain, who eagerly picked the former fitness model up for a snap suplex. She followed this up with a knee stomp and an arm wringer, not allowing Trish to get back to her feet. She twisted Trish's arm back into a hammerlock and looked to be going for the Necksnapper.

Then Angle rushed in and kicked Rain in the back, shooting her off of Trish and shoulder-first into the post. Rain winced and clutched her shoulder in pain as Trish turned her over and started beating her head into the mat. Rain wrenched her arms free from under Trish's legs, where they'd been pinned, then did a vicious double backhanded slap, which served to knock Trish back. Rain got to her feet, checking her face for blood before stalking toward Trish. The blond ran to Angle and tagged him. Angle promptly ran at Rain to clothesline her, but she planted her knee in Angle's gut, stopping him cold. She looked to the Storm and pointed in the air as she grabbed Kurt's arm, wrenching it, then dragging him over her shoulder in a martial arts throw. Angle landed near the Storm's corner, and the Force of Nature was airborne, coming down in a knee drop to Kurt's head.

Rain tagged the Storm and watched as he kicked away at the Olympian's chest, unaware of Trish running up behind her. Trish grabbed her arm and spun her around, then kicking her for a gutshot. Trish went for a DDT, but Rain stopped her. The dark-haired woman turned Trish around and dropped her in a death suplex. She rolled Trish out of the ring and helped the Storm pull Kurt out of the corner. Rain whipped him into the ropes, then clipped his feet with a droptoe hold, bringing Kurt's face down onto the Storm's raised boot.

Rain left the ring to continue her attentions on Trish, while the Storm twisted Kurt's arm back into a hammerlock, then pressed his knee on the twisted arm, locking his hands under Kurt's jaw in a camel clutch position. This was the infamous Hammerlock Necksnapper, a submission move that had won the Storm numerous matches -- some even against the Crippler, Chris Benoit. The Storm threw his head back, eyes wild, and screamed, "Let's hear the snap!!" Kurt screamed in pain, then frantically began tapping the mat as the Storm rocked back, painfully stretching his neck back. The referee called for the bell, and Metallica began playing again as the Storm released him.

"Here are your winners, THE STORM and RAIN!" The Storm stood over the writhing Kurt, then tilted his head to the side. He snapped his fingers as he raised his hand, then gave a two-fingered salute as he turned to see Rain put Trish in a full-nelson. She lifted Trish up, then flipped the blond's legs up, grabbing her shoulders before hurling her down to the mat. This was the Downdraft Slam. Rain brushed a loose strand of her wavy black hair out of her face, then accepted her sunglasses from the stagehand and put them on as the Storm did the same in the ring.

The Storm left the ring and started up the ramp with Rain, turning back to point at Kurt and shout, "Don't mess with Texas!" before turning his back and walking away.

* * *

Back in the gorilla position, the Storm grabbed a towel and mopped off some of the sweat on his face, then turned to his partner/girlfriend. "So, darlin, what was it you wanted to talk to me about? You mentioned something about a new guy before the match."

Rain nodded. "I went to talk to Mick Foley to see what our match was and asked about that. Apparently, we just signed a big name from the West Coast independent circuits. According to Mick, this guy's from California, and is apparently really nice."

The Storm frowned a bit. "Huh. California. Great place to visit, but I wouldn't wanna live there." He threw aside his towel and smirked. "Nah, the year or two I spent there after my training in Dallas was enough for me."

Rain smiled. "Yeah, who knows, Storm? Maybe this Billy Rose is somebody you know from the California circuits."

The Storm abruptly stopped and grabbed Rain by the shoulders. He removed his sunglasses and stared her in the face. Behind the usual coldness in his eyes was a glimmer of a spark. His face was hard, and he looked as though he were getting angry about something. His eyes narrowed. "What'd you say the guy's name was?"

"Rose. Billy Rose. You know him?"

The Storm didn't answer right away. He frowned a bit. "Do I know him? Hell, yes, I know him." He released Rain and started to walk away. "I know him pretty damn well."

* * *

Triple H and Stephanie had left a short while earlier to go talk to Vince, who was just arriving. This left Rose and Shane in the dressing room. The young McMahon was talking eagerly about his various matches -- but naturally only discussed the ones which he had won.

"So then, right, I'm face-to-face with this huge guy." Shane was standing up, gesticulating as necessary to accent his story. "I mean, seven-two, five hundred pounds. Pure mean. But did I back down? Oh, no. I looked him right in the eyes, and then I started kicking his ass. I mean really kicking his ass. I was on fire, man! Mean streets of Greenwich, woo! So like David did to Goliath, I took a stone -- cinder block, really -- and I break it over his head. He's down for the count, so I pin him, and I win!" He sat down in a chair, grinning. "And that's why I'm called 'Shane, the Giant Killer.'"

Rose smiled. "Yeah, Shane-O, that story might be entertaining if it weren't for the fact that I saw that pay-per-view, and I know how it really turned out." He grinned. "Don't worry, though, I'll tell all the lame-os out there your version if they haven't heard the real version."

Shane grinned, then checked his watch. He stood up. "Ho, man. I need to get to the ring. Gotta promo to cut with Edge and Christian. You gonna be okay in here by yourself?"

Rose smiled. "You kidding? I'll be fine, Shane. Trust me. Say hi to Edge and Christian for me." He waved Shane on out as he leaned back on the couch, nodding his head as he looked around. "I could get used to this."

A few minutes later, there was a knocking at the door. Rose looked up. "Who is it?" he called.

"One of the guys," a voice replied. "Wanted to say hi."

"Sure, come on in," Rose said, getting up. The door opened, and the Storm stepped into the room. "Hey, you're the Storm, aren't you? Great match, man."

The Storm didn't smile. His face was a mask of fury, scowling, eyes burning behind dark sunglasses. His goatee and mustache bristled as he popped his knuckles. Rose stepped back a bit, unconsciously. He tilted his head to one side as he advanced further. "Billy Fuckin Rose. Been a while, Slick."

Rose blinked in recognition at the voice. He backed away further, his eyes registering shock. "Skinner?"

The Storm charged forward, lashing out with a vicious right hook that knocked Rose back over the couch. The Storm vaulted over and punched him in the face again, then grabbed him by the sweater vest and hissed in his face, "Don't you ever, ever call me that again!"

He pulled Rose to his feet and slammed him against the wall, then threw him into the side table, the lamp shattering over him as this happened. Rose staggered up and started to run for the door, but the Storm grabbed the remnants of the lamp and threw them into the mostly-closed door, closing it the rest of the way. Rose stopped and turned around as the Storm stalked forward, lashing out with another right hook. The newcomer crumpled and collapsed onto the floor, where the Storm grabbed him by the hair before smashing his face no less than five times into the floor.

Rose gagged a bit as blood filled his mouth, his nose starting to bleed. The Storm didn't even pause as he grabbed him by the front, then hurled him sideways into the couch, which flipped over, pinning him underneath it. The Force of Nature scowled and hurled the coffee table -- vegetable tray and all -- away as he went to the couch. He flipped it up, then shoved it aside to grab Rose and pull him back. He pinned him to the wall and snarled in his face.

"Well if it isn't my old friend Billy," the Storm growled. He paused for a moment as Rose simply cowered and bled. "I think I'll kill you."

"Please!" Rose said desperately as the grip was tightened. "Think of my children!"

The Storm's eyes narrowed behind his sunglasses. "You don't have any children."

Rose swallowed nervously and wimpered, "Some day I might."

The Storm snarled again and hurled Rose across the room, smashing some of the decor in the process. The Storm followed as Rose turned himself over, moaning in pain. The Storm raised his boot and brought it down on Rose's face a few times. So intent was he on his task that he didn't register the sound of the door opening and a cadre of referees and officials swarming in to pull the Storm away.

Two referees grabbed his arms, but the Storm doubled up before swinging his arms back, throwing off the refs before turning and punching both. He turned back to Rose, hurling another official out of the way as he balled up a fist to bring it into the newcomer's forehead. Now Sgt. Slaughter pulled him off of Rose, but the Storm roared and shook him off. He turned around and snapped a punch right between the Sarge's eyes. He turned back to Rose, who was trying to crawl away.

"Storm!" It was Mick Foley, who was trying to wade through the referees to get to the enraged Texan. "Storm! Goddamit, Storm! Stop it!"

But the Storm didn't give any sign of having heard Mick. He grabbed Rose's ankle and pulled him toward him so he could grab his hair. He looked ready to land another ferocious blow when the Commish grabbed his arm and pulled him away. The Storm turned to Foley, seemed to register his presence for a moment, then went and punched him anyway. Mick fell down from the force of the punch, then snarled and grabbed both of the Storm's arms, allowing two referees to move in to grab them and another two to grab his legs. The Storm bucked and kicked and writhed like a rabid animal, roaring in frustration.

"Goddamn motherfucker!" he screamed at Rose, who was being checked on by EMTs. "You think I'm through with you! That's just the beginning! I'm gonna fucking kill you, Rose!"

"Get him out of here!" Mick ordered, shouting to be heard over the Storm. He looked at the battered, bloody, and beaten Billy Rose, then checked his own mouth for blood where the Storm had punched him. "What the hell got him so fired up?"

* * *

Rain came into the Lone Star dressing room to find the Storm fuming, throwing his things into his duffel bag and slinging it over his shoulder. His face was still red with rage and he was muttering defaming -- and downright blasphemous -- oaths under his breath. He stood up and faced Rain, and paused for half a second. "Get out of my way, Rain. I'm outta here."

Rain folded her arms, leaning against the doorframe. "I just walked by the McMahons' room and saw what happened. What the hell did you just do?"

"Paid back some interest," the Storm growled. "On that fucking asswipe in there. I'm not gonna hang around to hear another one of Foley's spiels. And that goes for Mr. McMahon's tirade as well." He headed for the door, then stopped as Rain didn't budge. "Move."

"No," Rain said. "I demand an explanation as to why you attacked that poor man."

The Storm scowled. "'Poor man'? That motherfucker is not a 'poor man'! If you knew what the fuck that bastard's done in his time, you would've been helping me stomp his ass flat. Now fucking move."

Rain tilted her chin up, her eyes defiantly glaring over her round sunglasses at her partner/boyfriend. She wasn't going to move. Snarling, the Storm shoved her away and stalked down the hall toward the parking garage. "Storm!" Rain called after him, but got no response. She followed, calling after him again, but getting no reaction. "Storm, get back here!"

She ran after him, just as he was throwing his duffel into the trunk of his black Toyota Avalon. Rain went over to him as he slammed the trunk shut and put a hand on his shoulder. Angrily, the Storm shook her off. He went to the driver's door and opened it, just as Commissioner Foley emerged from the hallway.

"Storm, goddammit, don't you drive off!" the Commish shouted. The Storm paused, his back to Foley, apparently listening. "Now I demand to know what the hell just happened back there!"

The Storm turned and looked at Foley, removing his sunglasses. He scowled. "Fuck you, Foley." He started to get into his car when Triple H, Stephanie, and Mr. McMahon himself approached from behind Foley.

Triple H glared briefly at his sometime-nemesis, then glanced over at the Chairman, who roared, "Storm, you goddamn son-of-a-bitch, what the hell do you think you're doing? Why in God's name did you attack Billy Rose?"

The Storm scowled again at the mention of Rose's name, then slammed his fist against the roof of his car. He looked away for a moment, then looked back at Mr. McMahon. "Fuck you, too, Vince. Fuck you for hiring that goddamn motherfucker." As Mr. McMahon swelled with fury, the Force of Nature threw himself into the driver's seat of his car, locking the doors, then turning on the engine. Vince started to stomp toward him, Foley, Helmsley, Steph, and Rain all following, but the Storm peeled out and sped out of the garage without another word.

"What the hell was that all about?" Triple H wondered aloud. "You'd think Billy Rose was Viper or something from the way Storm acted."

Everyone looked at Foley -- who shrugged -- then at Rain. She looked up at them. "Why are you all looking at me?"

"You've known Storm the longest," Mick replied. "You trained with him in Dallas, and you two are an item. We figured you must have an explanation."

Rain shrugged helplessly. "I'm at as much a loss as all of you. I don't know why he did that."

They all looked at her for another moment, then out the exit of the garage in the direction the Storm had driven. Vince frowned and looked at Foley. "How's Rose, Mick?"

"He's going to be okay," the Commissioner replied. "We managed to get there before Storm could do anything permanent. He'll be sore for a couple days, but Billy's going to be fine."

Vince nodded, pondering things. He looked out of the garage, then back at Mick. "I think," he said slowly, "that come Thursday night on Smackdown!, there's going to be hell to pay for the Storm."

"You're damn right there's going to be," Foley said.

-more to come-

Next: The Storm returns on Thursday to answer for his attack, and tells everyone just why he hates "Billy F'N Rose."

If you have any ideas for who you think the Storm, Rain, or Billy Rose should team up with or go up against, drop me a line at jay_winger_2k@hotmail.com.