A/N: Hi everyone! I'm back! Hope you liked the story so far!
Disclaimer: Liz's theme song is owned by Linkin Park, called "Points of Authority". Everything else was on the 1st chapter.
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-DANGEROUS BUSINESS-
Chapter 6
~Last RAW before Armageddon
~8:55 P.M
"You guys are just the perfect couple," said Jeff sarcastically as they entered the building. Immediately, Liz dropped Rob's hand and lunged toward Jeff playfully. She grasped his shoulders and shoved him to the wall.
"I don't know, Jeff. I think that you and Trish outrank us," she teased, smiling. "By the way, how was your night? I mean you were – " Jeff tickled her as she tried to continue. His ticklish cousin retreated.
"Stop!" she shouted, batting away his hands. She ran a few steps backward…and bumped right into the broad chest of Brock Lesner. Liz turned obliviously around. "Sorry," she said, her tone somewhat icy. She placed her hand on the inside of the Women's title that encircled her shoulder as she stared back at him when he didn't pass.
"Congratulations," he said, motioning toward her title. Big surprise, he thought wryly. Rob Van Dam stood behind her, staring at him suspiciously. Brock continued. "I wanted to say I'm sorry," he told her, blacking out RVD and Jeff, "I shouldn't have gone that far." With the mention of the match, the brunette scowled. She was curious too – why was he even apologizing to her? She thought of Edge and her scowl deepened as she thought of what Brock did to him, what he did to her.
"This isn't something that I can just leave alone," Liz said, her eyes straying to a place of her own, lost in thought, "But I'm glad that someone in this federation has the decency to apologize." Her jade eyes darkened as she thought of Jericho. "Little Bastard," she hissed to herself.
"What was that for?" asked an angry Lesner.
"I wasn't talking about you!" she snapped, "I was talking about – "
"Jericho?" Lesner finished helpfully. The brunette stared at him for a bit, and then replied.
"Yeah. I have to go," her voice was steady and firm, "Bye." She walked away without a second glace at the man who stood in the hallway, smiling at her retreating back.
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Liz watched the beginning of RAW – Jazz versus Trish – as she braided Lita's hair.
"You're with RVD?" cried Lita. Liz nodded in response, glad to be catching up with her friend when Jeff walked in. There was an acid scowl on his face as he handed Liz a single sheet of paper. The brunette paused the braiding and glanced it over. It was the night's matches. Shrugging, Liz read it, the redhead in front of her peeking at it.
1. Jazz vs. Trish
2. RVD and Kane vs. Randy Orton and A-Train
3. Chris Beniot vs. Edge
4. HHH vs. Test
5. Batista vs. Bubba Ray and D'von.
6. Undertaker and Elizabeth Smith vs. Stone Cold Steve Austin and Y2J
"Taking the night off?" asked Liz, handing the list to Lita as she stared at Jeff. "Hey, everyone deserves a night off – and you haven't been using yours for the past about what – 2 months?" Jeff just sighed in irritation. Jeff sighed and sat down on the couch next to Lita and Liz. "Trish is almost done kicking Jazz's ass," observed Liz, "So why don't you and her go out or something?"
Jeff rolled his eyes, "I never thought a good idea would come from your mouth."
"Hey!" protested Liz. Jeff smiled.
"Be careful at your match – and watch your back."
"Literally or figuratively?"
"Both," replied the Hardy while gritting his teeth, "'Taker isn't a man to trust when you don't know him."
"All right, I'll be careful," sighed Liz as the bell rang on the screen, and the announcer babbled into the microphone about Trish winning. Jeff walked out of the room, picking up his duffel as he went.
"You and 'Taker against Austin and Jericho?" echoed Lita as Jeff went. "What'd you do to McMahon? Insult the stoplight out of his suit?"
Liz smirked, "You could say that." She sighed, resting her head on the couch, closing her eyes quietly.
"You want to go to the cafeteria?" asked Lita.
"Sure," replied Liz. At least this would get her mind off the match. The brunette ran a hand through her hair as the two stood up and walked down the halls. Lita noticed Liz's far-away stare, and debated whether to ask about it.
"What's up?"
Liz jerked her head and looked at Lita, sighing. She smiled, and then said, in forceful cheerfulness, "I guess it's just nothing…" She tried to force her thoughts away from the topic of her father, but she couldn't, she was too tangled up in her own feelings. On one half, she hated him. She hated him for abandoning her and her mother; she hated him for what he did to Jeff… But on the other half, she wondered if it was right. Was it morally right to hate her father? Sighing, she also remembered Jericho; too vividly recalling what he did, barely suppressing a growl.
"What to talk about it?" offered Lita. Liz thought about it, but was saved an answer as Y2J sauntered past.
"Hey Liz," he said, "Lita."
"Hello, jackass," replied Liz under her breath. Lita blinked, recalling the Jericho before he grew an ego. She glared at Jericho, her eyes blazing. She elbowed Lita discreetly and the two walked away, ditching the blonde. Liz passed a wary eye back, and inadvertently met his gaze. A crafty smile hung on his face as he fast-walked down the hall, in the direction of Mr. McMahon's office.
Just as Liz and Lita were close to the food, Liz became aware of something towering behind her. The two spun around, and looked up at the Undertaker. Lita stared at him warily, remembering when he threw her off the steel ramp. Instinctively, Liz stepped a tad in front of Lita, shielding her from view. 'Taker looked down at Liz, not noticing the redhead.
"We need to talk about the match," he said gruffly. Liz nodded and turned to Lita.
"I'll met you there in a second, all right?" she said. "If it takes awhile, just go back to the room. I'll be there awhile before my match."
"Okay. See you," Lita said, mouthing two words to Liz that almost went unnoticed by 'Taker. 'Be careful.' The brunette nodded at her unspoken message and followed 'Taker down the halls. They stopped in a random hall and sat down on the black containers. The tall man talked strictly strategy as Liz listened on carefully, adding little parts in here and there, but carefully never really interrupting him. As 'Taker continued to talk, Liz's eyes strayed to the TV, which had the footage from a camera backstage. She almost caught herself rolling her eyes in 'Taker's face as she saw Stacey break things off with Test.
"Are you listenin' to what I'm sayin', girl?" asked 'Taker with his Texan drawl. Liz stared at him for a second, almost thinking of telling him that he was boring her to death; but remembered that she wasn't dealing with her cousins or someone less dangerous that wouldn't hurt her if the chance came up.
"Yeah, I'm listening," she responded, "I want a chance to take on Austin," she said before 'Taker could continue.
"You wanna lose this match?" responded 'Taker. "No way are you getting in the ring with that SOB!"
About five minutes later, Liz emerged away from their meeting, a scowl darkening her face once more. Her day had gone from good to bad. 'Taker didn't think she was good enough to get in the ring with Austin, she missed Rob to ask to valet for his match; and get a kiss, Austin kept popping into her head unbidden, she was hungry, and nobody was around to talk with. Since her discussion with the Undertaker had taken so long, Lita had gone back to the room. Upon returning, Liz found no trace of her friend. She punched in her cell phone's number as she watched her boyfriend's match. Sighing, as Lita didn't pick up, she set the phone back on its cradle. She turned back to the match with a whoop of joy as she realized that Rob and Kane had won the match. Her joy, however, only lasted until HHH and Batista came running down. She started to run out to help them, but Test ran down the ramp, still, amazingly, accompanied by Stacey. Liz pushed herself back onto the couch, knowing that Kane, Test, and Rob could kick their butts, so she simply watched as they destroyed HHH and Batista. A-Train had recovered and grabbed a chair. Stacey tried to take it out of his hands. He turned and tried to slam the chair into Stacey's head, but Rob slammed it into A-Train's head with a spinning heel kick, sending the hairy giant to the mat. Stacey grabbed Rob's hand and turned him around. The long-legged Diva pushed her lips onto Rob's.
Liz wasn't that angry. She thought that Stacey simply didn't know what was going on between she and Rob and was simply a victim of her own vileness. But when Rob didn't pull back; and, in fact, deepened the kiss, Liz stared at the TV numbly.
"What?" she whispered. Her voice filled the empty room, echoing off the walls and taunting her. She closed her eyes quietly and opened them again, a childish hope that she was dreaming.
She had no idea that four days with a guy could hurt this much. However, while her heart crumbled in tears, her mind set off once again, separated from her heart painfully. Numb anger fueled her mind as she walked to the curtains. Not really sure what she was going to do, Liz stood there for a few seconds. She heard people's footsteps come close to the curtains. The brunette darted into the cloak of shadows behind the curtains, her heart crashing painfully against her ribcage with every beat. This was a dream…just a dream…
As soon as RVD and Stacey reached the curtains, Rob dropped Stacey's arm and walked down the steps.
"I hope your girlfriend takes it well," said Stacey, a sly smile forming at her mouth, happily.
"Shut up," hissed Rob in reply.
"Will someone just explain to me…what just happened out there?" hissed a quiet, dead-sounding voice. Rob turned around to see Liz, who had stepped from the shadows. He stepped forward to embrace her, but something about her held him back. Clearly seeing the jade eyes he was so fond of dart to Stacey and narrow, he understood what she didn't.
"Liz," he said. She opened her mouth, but Rob beat her to it. "This is a storyline for the fans," he explained, watching her eyes closely. As much as Liz tried to hide her emotions, they always seemed to be so clear in her eyes. "McMahon said only last a few shows." Liz looked doubtful as he plunged into the details of storylines. One half of her doubted him after he stopped, the other believed him completely. She felt her will to reject his explanation waver.
"I have to talk to someone," was her only reply. Rob stared after her as she practically ran down the halls, looking after with a wounded, pained expression on his face.
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"What do you mean, you can't change them?" cried a distressed brunette. Her palms slapped down on Vince McMahon's desk in anger.
"Storylines don't change," he responded. "I'm aware that you don't like this, but I'm being generous here!"
"5 shows?" replied Liz, her voice layered with disbelief.
"Take it or leave it!" roared McMahon, "You can still see him off camera," he added, disgusted with her behavior.
"Fine," replied Liz. She hid her joy professionally. Rob wasn't lying… A part of her wanted to mentally slap herself for being so doubtful, but Liz didn't mind anymore. She walked to the office door, her hand falling on the cool metal as Mr. McMahon sighed.
"Liz," he called, "I'll let you choose the stipulations for your match with Austin." It was the first act of kindness she had seen a McMahon display. "Make it good," he warned her, "Or I'll choose."
She nodded as she shut the door. As soon as her hand let go of the handle, she ran down the halls, trying to find Rob's locker room.
Liz was not prepared for what she saw next. Rob Van Dam lay in a pile of rubble of glass and such, blood seeping from his skin, bruises forming on his still body. A bloody, torn shirt hung on the room's side of the doorknob. The brunette's gaze traveled to the bare black of her boyfriend, hoping against hopes.
3:16.
It was there, sprayed onto his back, taunting her. Liz stepped over the rubble and carefully rolled RVD onto his back. She held her hand up to his face, gratefully feeling the warmth of breath. He was in no dire need for a doctor, she thought, cradling his head quietly as she stared at the skull that had been spray painted onto Rob's door. Her jaw clenched.
She knew she probably wouldn't get much revenge tonight. But…she thought, her gaze straying to a steel chair lying on the ground…she would have a chance at Armageddon.
And after she beat him with her bare hands, she wasn't going to play fair.
She slowly picked up Rob, stumbling under his weight. In the end, she draped one arm around his shoulders and slowly, carefully, dragged him out of the room. The hallway seemed tortuously long as she took one slow step at a time, glancing at Rob every other step, making sure he was still breathing.
Suddenly, Brock Lesner stood in front of her. He cocked his head, taking in the wounded RVD.
"Need some help?" he asked as he easily picked up the unconscious RVD once she nodded. "Lead the way," he commanded. Caught up with worrying, Liz didn't really acknowledge that it was Brock Lesner that was helping her out. She didn't notice the blond that glared after her, stepping from his locker room, an evil smile on his face. He tapped a steel chair on the concrete floor, watching them round the corner.
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A/N: Sorry, it was a boring chapter. I didn't have very many ideas! Sorry it took so long to update! Please, please review!