Woohoo! Action starting to pick back up again!
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A month and a half had past. Heads snapped to attention all over the Smackdown arena as the unfamiliar theme music started up.
"See these eyes so green. I can stare for a thousand years. Colder than the moon. It's been so long..."
A dark figure was silhouetted at the top of the ramp. The low ominous music gathered speed, built up to a roar.
"...And I've been putting out the fire with gasoline..."
The lights came up. Throbbing with the energy of the music she raced to the ring without looking hurried. She slid onto the canvas and whirled around, surveying the stunned audience. Her long, black leather coat, with it's blood-red rendition of angels wings on the back, twirled with her.
She was still wearing the same black boots, not only because they matched the outfit, but also because good wrestling boots that fit well were hard to come by. Other than the footwear (which she now tied with red laces), her attire had transformed into something that could be described as biker chick-meets-dominatrix... from hell.
The black vinyl shorts ("More hotpants than shorts," Lita corrected herself) really looked like leather, and were more confining than she was used to, but were still thin enough to not restrict movement and to be comfortable. The halter top was black vinyl as well and exposed a lot more skin than she was fully comfortable with. At least she was still wearing the coat... for right now.
Her accesories almost made up for having to bare so much skin. Red vinyl glovelets, the kind that fit over the middle finger almost like a ring and come to a point at the top of the hands, hugged her arms all the way up to the elbow. A black ribbon choker was around her neck, with an intriguing black symbol dangling from it. Upon closer inspection, Michael Cole noted with a yelp that it was the Undertaker's old Ministry of Darkness symbol.
Lita's hair was pulled lightly back in a black ribbon, which softened the look slightly. It made her face look younger and even prettier, a startling contrast to her attire.
She took off her coat and handed it to a stagehand and stood waiting, arms crossed in the middle of the ring, for her opponent. From the corner of her vision, she inconspicuously eyed the microphone. She was tempted to pick it up, taunt her opponent, eat away at the silence, but she stood her ground. She knew better now.
Matt's music hit. He appeared dazed as he walked slowly to the ring, not even playing for the crowd or flashing his "Version 1.0" symbol. He paused as he climbed through the ropes, apparently not wanting to get any closer to her. Her face was a blank mask as she stared into his eyes.
"What happened to you? You're not Lita..." he shook his head in confusion. "What's going on?"
She turned a deaf ear to his pleas for explanation. "You asked for this match," she said quietly. "Now get in the ring and let's finish this."
They locked up, and he shoved her away easily. She rolled to her feet in an instant, staring him down, ready for more. Fighting the former cruiserweight champion wasn't as difficult as she'd imagined. For one thing, familiarity may breed contempt, but it also had given her a hand up in knowing all his moves, what to expect him to do next. It made him almost laughably easy to counter. To both Matt and everyone else watching, it appeared as though she wasn't even trying.
She had him from behind in a camel clutch. Her small framed actually worked to her advantage in that it was easy to avoid his arms as he reached back to try to pull her off him. His hand was raised. Any second now, he would tap.
Lita heard the crash of the chair hitting and almost had time to wonder what it was before the pain exploded in her back a split second later. "That little MFer..." she thought, and turned to discover just how accurate her description was. Shannon Moore stared at her with wide eyes as she struggled stubbornly to her feet. Being pissed off was more motivational than being in pain was debilitating, apparently.
Shannon dropped the chair and turned to run, but she jerked his ponytail and he lost his footing, falling hard to the mat. But the distraction had cost her.
Matt grabbed her from behind and had hit her with a twist-of-fate before she could even understand what was happening. Sure she'd won the match via disqualification, but now she was stunned, sore, half-unconscious, and lying in the ring with two guys who hated her guts. The victory seemed a trifle insignificant at the moment.
Matt picked up the chair that his follower had dropped. Lita struggled herself to a sitting position, but could not find the strength to stand, no matter how hard she tried. Unless she was going to be able to crawl really fast, this was going to turn out ugly.
She lifted her head. Matt was facing the announcer's table, his back to the backstage area. Behind him, she could see Taker bursting through the curtain to come down the ramp. He would still never make it in time.
Matt raised the chair. The lights in the arena went out.
Darkness prevailed for a few moments until it was shattered by a burst of pyrotechnics from the turnbuckles.
Matt looked up. Kane stood in front of him.
He chokeslammed the smaller man so quickly, it was almost merciful. Though, from her position still crumpled on the mat, nothing about the way Matt's bodied thudded against the canvas sounded merciful. Well, not merciful for him, anyway.
Kane lifted her gently to her feet. To the audience, it would look like a quick, callous motion, done without thought or care. But as Lita looked up at him, his hands on her arms were as light as the touch of butterfly's wings.
Still trying to maintain her tough demeanor, she stared up at him, only her eyes open and searching. He looked blankly back down, revealing nothing.
Taker stood at the edge of the ring, watching them. Lita turned to look at him for advice, and he gave a nearly invisible shrug, so tiny only she could catch it, or even think to look for it. "Of course, Kane's his brother, so he might know it for what it is," she thought.
Glancing back at said Kane, she backed towards the ropes and, grabbing the top one, backflipped out over them. If he felt anything at seeing her rip off his move, he gave no sign of it. He remained frozen as she and his older brother left for backstage, and didn't move until they were out of sight.
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Taker and she stared at each other in the lockerroom. She was leaning, one hand on the bench, as he helped her hold an icepack to her back. "What the hell was that about?" she asked. He shrugged again. "You're his brother. You oughtta know something." "You're the chick he's in love with," Taker reminded, his eyes glinting with a trace of a smile at the rise he was getting out of her.
Someone knocked at the door. The two glanced at each other warily.
"I'm in no mood to get ambushed today, how about you?" Lita muttered.
Taker shook his head. "Not without better back-up."
Lita gritted her teeth and let the comment slide. The more she argued back, the more he antagonized her. It appeared she was his only real source of amusement. Sad for him.
"Who is it?" she called to whoever was at the door.
There was a pause before the answer. "Me."
No mistaking that voice. She looked at Taker and they both nodded. He handed her the icepack and went to answer the door. Kane stepped in.
Seeing Lita tending an injury, he immediately dropped to a knee in front of her. "Are you all right? I couldn't get here any sooner."
"Wait...what's going on?" she asked. He shook his head, confused. "What do you mean?"
"You acted like you didn't know me out there in the ring. So...what's going on?"
He looked hurt. "I thought we were saving face."
She had to laugh at that. He sounded so much like a child when he said it, but it made sense. "Okay, glad to know that's the reason. I thought you hated me."
He chuckled a little himself, then. "Of course not. I'm sorry for confusing you."
"It's all right." She stood to her feet, grimacing slightly. The ice had only helped so much.
Kane rose with her. "Is it bad?"
She shook her head. "I'm fine."
He laid his hand against her cheek, softly forcing her to look at him. "You always say that."
She smiled and, ignoring the pain in her back, reached up to hug him. He carefully wrapped his arms around her, hands resting lightly where she'd been hit.
"I missed you," she whispered, smiling.
"I missed *you*," he murmured into her hair.
They both pulled back, but not away, faces turning serious as they stared into each others' eyes. Taker cleared his throat. They both snapped their heads in his direction, having temporarily forgotten his presence.
"I hate to interrupt this tender reunion, but I believe the three of us have a lot we need to discuss."
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:humming to herself: I'm glad I get to put something happy in this story again. Don't worry, in the upcoming chapters I'll be explaining what's happened in the story in the past six weeks. I hope y'all like what's going on so far. I know it's a far cry from where we started, but I promise, all things circle round. Much thanks to y'all who have been reviewing.
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A month and a half had past. Heads snapped to attention all over the Smackdown arena as the unfamiliar theme music started up.
"See these eyes so green. I can stare for a thousand years. Colder than the moon. It's been so long..."
A dark figure was silhouetted at the top of the ramp. The low ominous music gathered speed, built up to a roar.
"...And I've been putting out the fire with gasoline..."
The lights came up. Throbbing with the energy of the music she raced to the ring without looking hurried. She slid onto the canvas and whirled around, surveying the stunned audience. Her long, black leather coat, with it's blood-red rendition of angels wings on the back, twirled with her.
She was still wearing the same black boots, not only because they matched the outfit, but also because good wrestling boots that fit well were hard to come by. Other than the footwear (which she now tied with red laces), her attire had transformed into something that could be described as biker chick-meets-dominatrix... from hell.
The black vinyl shorts ("More hotpants than shorts," Lita corrected herself) really looked like leather, and were more confining than she was used to, but were still thin enough to not restrict movement and to be comfortable. The halter top was black vinyl as well and exposed a lot more skin than she was fully comfortable with. At least she was still wearing the coat... for right now.
Her accesories almost made up for having to bare so much skin. Red vinyl glovelets, the kind that fit over the middle finger almost like a ring and come to a point at the top of the hands, hugged her arms all the way up to the elbow. A black ribbon choker was around her neck, with an intriguing black symbol dangling from it. Upon closer inspection, Michael Cole noted with a yelp that it was the Undertaker's old Ministry of Darkness symbol.
Lita's hair was pulled lightly back in a black ribbon, which softened the look slightly. It made her face look younger and even prettier, a startling contrast to her attire.
She took off her coat and handed it to a stagehand and stood waiting, arms crossed in the middle of the ring, for her opponent. From the corner of her vision, she inconspicuously eyed the microphone. She was tempted to pick it up, taunt her opponent, eat away at the silence, but she stood her ground. She knew better now.
Matt's music hit. He appeared dazed as he walked slowly to the ring, not even playing for the crowd or flashing his "Version 1.0" symbol. He paused as he climbed through the ropes, apparently not wanting to get any closer to her. Her face was a blank mask as she stared into his eyes.
"What happened to you? You're not Lita..." he shook his head in confusion. "What's going on?"
She turned a deaf ear to his pleas for explanation. "You asked for this match," she said quietly. "Now get in the ring and let's finish this."
They locked up, and he shoved her away easily. She rolled to her feet in an instant, staring him down, ready for more. Fighting the former cruiserweight champion wasn't as difficult as she'd imagined. For one thing, familiarity may breed contempt, but it also had given her a hand up in knowing all his moves, what to expect him to do next. It made him almost laughably easy to counter. To both Matt and everyone else watching, it appeared as though she wasn't even trying.
She had him from behind in a camel clutch. Her small framed actually worked to her advantage in that it was easy to avoid his arms as he reached back to try to pull her off him. His hand was raised. Any second now, he would tap.
Lita heard the crash of the chair hitting and almost had time to wonder what it was before the pain exploded in her back a split second later. "That little MFer..." she thought, and turned to discover just how accurate her description was. Shannon Moore stared at her with wide eyes as she struggled stubbornly to her feet. Being pissed off was more motivational than being in pain was debilitating, apparently.
Shannon dropped the chair and turned to run, but she jerked his ponytail and he lost his footing, falling hard to the mat. But the distraction had cost her.
Matt grabbed her from behind and had hit her with a twist-of-fate before she could even understand what was happening. Sure she'd won the match via disqualification, but now she was stunned, sore, half-unconscious, and lying in the ring with two guys who hated her guts. The victory seemed a trifle insignificant at the moment.
Matt picked up the chair that his follower had dropped. Lita struggled herself to a sitting position, but could not find the strength to stand, no matter how hard she tried. Unless she was going to be able to crawl really fast, this was going to turn out ugly.
She lifted her head. Matt was facing the announcer's table, his back to the backstage area. Behind him, she could see Taker bursting through the curtain to come down the ramp. He would still never make it in time.
Matt raised the chair. The lights in the arena went out.
Darkness prevailed for a few moments until it was shattered by a burst of pyrotechnics from the turnbuckles.
Matt looked up. Kane stood in front of him.
He chokeslammed the smaller man so quickly, it was almost merciful. Though, from her position still crumpled on the mat, nothing about the way Matt's bodied thudded against the canvas sounded merciful. Well, not merciful for him, anyway.
Kane lifted her gently to her feet. To the audience, it would look like a quick, callous motion, done without thought or care. But as Lita looked up at him, his hands on her arms were as light as the touch of butterfly's wings.
Still trying to maintain her tough demeanor, she stared up at him, only her eyes open and searching. He looked blankly back down, revealing nothing.
Taker stood at the edge of the ring, watching them. Lita turned to look at him for advice, and he gave a nearly invisible shrug, so tiny only she could catch it, or even think to look for it. "Of course, Kane's his brother, so he might know it for what it is," she thought.
Glancing back at said Kane, she backed towards the ropes and, grabbing the top one, backflipped out over them. If he felt anything at seeing her rip off his move, he gave no sign of it. He remained frozen as she and his older brother left for backstage, and didn't move until they were out of sight.
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Taker and she stared at each other in the lockerroom. She was leaning, one hand on the bench, as he helped her hold an icepack to her back. "What the hell was that about?" she asked. He shrugged again. "You're his brother. You oughtta know something." "You're the chick he's in love with," Taker reminded, his eyes glinting with a trace of a smile at the rise he was getting out of her.
Someone knocked at the door. The two glanced at each other warily.
"I'm in no mood to get ambushed today, how about you?" Lita muttered.
Taker shook his head. "Not without better back-up."
Lita gritted her teeth and let the comment slide. The more she argued back, the more he antagonized her. It appeared she was his only real source of amusement. Sad for him.
"Who is it?" she called to whoever was at the door.
There was a pause before the answer. "Me."
No mistaking that voice. She looked at Taker and they both nodded. He handed her the icepack and went to answer the door. Kane stepped in.
Seeing Lita tending an injury, he immediately dropped to a knee in front of her. "Are you all right? I couldn't get here any sooner."
"Wait...what's going on?" she asked. He shook his head, confused. "What do you mean?"
"You acted like you didn't know me out there in the ring. So...what's going on?"
He looked hurt. "I thought we were saving face."
She had to laugh at that. He sounded so much like a child when he said it, but it made sense. "Okay, glad to know that's the reason. I thought you hated me."
He chuckled a little himself, then. "Of course not. I'm sorry for confusing you."
"It's all right." She stood to her feet, grimacing slightly. The ice had only helped so much.
Kane rose with her. "Is it bad?"
She shook her head. "I'm fine."
He laid his hand against her cheek, softly forcing her to look at him. "You always say that."
She smiled and, ignoring the pain in her back, reached up to hug him. He carefully wrapped his arms around her, hands resting lightly where she'd been hit.
"I missed you," she whispered, smiling.
"I missed *you*," he murmured into her hair.
They both pulled back, but not away, faces turning serious as they stared into each others' eyes. Taker cleared his throat. They both snapped their heads in his direction, having temporarily forgotten his presence.
"I hate to interrupt this tender reunion, but I believe the three of us have a lot we need to discuss."
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:humming to herself: I'm glad I get to put something happy in this story again. Don't worry, in the upcoming chapters I'll be explaining what's happened in the story in the past six weeks. I hope y'all like what's going on so far. I know it's a far cry from where we started, but I promise, all things circle round. Much thanks to y'all who have been reviewing.