Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

Author Notes: I know it's been a long time since I posted a chapter of this but thanks to my dear friend Hugh I've been able to watch some old Sting stuff which has reinspired me! Hope it was worth the wait:- )

MONEY TALKS

"What would he want with them?"

Sting's question hung in the air around them. No one had any answers. Once Beulah and Raven had emerged from the hotel and slid into the pick-up, they'd all returned to the warehouse. The group was scattered in the large derelict part which Sting seemed to spend most of his time in.

"They all hate him," supplied Raven from where he sat up against a pillar, legs apart. "I know I did."

"But some of them loved his money right?" supplied Beulah. "He had deep pockets."

"There's something wrong here," murmured Sting, perhaps to himself. "These former employees are true stars of our business. Some of them are retired, some are badly injured. There's something entirely uneven about this list."

Silence fell on the group again and the Undertaker shifted from where he stood as part of the shadows by the door. He hadn't moved much since they'd gotten back. From the way he stared off into the distance, Sting guessed he was scanning the area for something or more appropriately, someone. Victoria couldn't seem to keep still, her knee jiggling and making her black booted foot clatter loudly on the concrete floor. The noise was unnecessary to him but it seemed to go some way in containing her energy. She'd been on edge since bundling herself into the truck outside the club, spilling the news of Beulah's destination and company. There was something else there beneath the onion layers.

"Priestess," her name came out of his mouth like a breath, certain and sure and she turned to look at him questioningly, her foot still tapping erratically. "Was there something more you wanted to share with us?"

Victoria's face took on a guilty shade and her foot finally stopped tapping. That got everyone's attention.

"I got a vision while I was in the club," she began.

"You haven't told them yet?" asked Beulah surprised.

"I forgot, I was focused on you after that," replied Victoria quickly. "I didn't want anything to go wrong so I put it to the back of my mind."

"What was the vision of?" asked Sting, cutting through her apologetic manner to get to the heart of it.

"The force that Desperado described."

At her words, Undertaker turned his head sharply to look at her. She stared back, biting her bottom lip but standing her ground.

"How can you be sure?" asked Sting carefully.

"I may not have Desperado's sixth sense but the voices tell me things I need to know," replied Victoria briskly. "It was him. He was wearing a white robe and knelt before a silver cross in a stone building. He was chanting."

"What did he say?" asked Sting.

"Darkness will consume the light, beckoning his return," replied Victoria with a tiny flicker of a glance at Undertaker. "I got the feeling it's connected to Desperado."

"Its one of my prophecies," said Undertaker, his voice even and deep. "Spoken after one of my deaths, heralding my return back to the living."

"Why would someone else use it?" asked Beulah confused.

"To show that they know about us," said Sting. "This person is made of the same darkness as we are but contains an entirely different light."

"They could help us," spoke up Raven. "If they know what we're about then why would they fight against us? It sounds like the same cause of me."

The Undertaker had stayed perfectly still, his gaze still fixed on Victoria. Sting wondered briefly how he'd feel if someone spoke one his prophecies. His had been made public through WCW's pilfering of them for his theme music but fans who still stopped him in the street hardly ever mentioned it. His prophecies were private and someone else speaking them would unnerve him greatly.

"Desperado, can you find this man?" asked Sting into the thoughtful silence which had fallen.

"Only if he allows himself to be found," replied Undertaker with barely a blink of his black-lined eyes. "He had kept himself cloaked from me so far and he may do for a long time. I have the feeling he will become apparent when we need his assistance."

"What about the list?" spoke up Beulah.

She was wearing a slate grey trenchcoat over the shimmering dress she'd seduced Triple H in. The coat seemed to swamp her figure despite being belted snugly around her waist. Her wide eyes were full of concern and worry and from her sprawled position on the dank floor beside Raven, she looked deceptively like a lost little girl.

"If we draw up what we know of these names, maybe we'll find the link," suggested Raven, pulling his notebook from his coat pocket.

Sting nodded and set his dark eyes down onto the creased paper again.

"Kevin Nash, Scott Hall, Jeff Jarrett, Diamond Dallas Page," he began, the scritch-scritch of Raven's pencil mirroring his words. "They were in WWF and WCW but are now in the TNA-NWA."

"They used to be really big stars," added Victoria.

"The Rock – he's still in the WWE but is hardly ever present on-screen," continued Sting. "Jeff Hardy, Monty Brown, AJ Styles – all NWA-TNA wrestlers."

"They are all stars who are not in the WWE," spoke by Undertaker softly.

Comprehension spread itself out in Sting's mind. These people were all talented wrestlers and either had been or were huge stars in the wrestling industry. He examined the paper keenly.

"Bischoff has written numbers beside each name. I would guess they are amounts of Evolution's money going into their accounts," he said.

"He's paying them to not come into the WWE," Raven declared, his pencil silent as he gazed at what he had written. "Evolution has asked him to so that they have no competition."

Anger roared in Sting's mind but quickly it cooled. He had learned long ago to control his anger and to channel it properly into cold hard action. Slowly a smile spread over his face. Evolution must have been beside themselves when they saw Sting and Raven in the same place coming for them. It was like their perfect plan falling into pieces.

"We are destroying their plan just by our presence," Sting mused out-loud, a sliver of joy coating his words. "Now we must take it apart brick by brick."

"If we don't then Bischoff'll squeeze the life out of everything we've worked for," voiced Beulah angrily, her eyes no longer childlike. "He's preventing talent from truly being able to stretch their wings."

"We must break him," the Undertaker murmured softly.

"And Evolution must be stopped too," added Raven. "Even without Bischoff, they could do a lot more damage to our industry."

There was a pause and then Victoria gasped. She clutched a hand to her ebony hair and used the other to support herself on the wall. Everyone's focus was on her. A translucent image was thrown before her, allowing the group to see her vision. A white robed figure stood with its back to them. Grey stones formed walls either side and rows of candles provided flickering light. Then the figure turned. It was a man with white hair that reached his shoulders and from what could be see of under the robe, white pants and top as well. His eyes were pale blue, like ice.

"You have all felt my presence," his voice was soft but with an air of menace. "I am here to help you. I am not a long term ally. I walk alone but this time our enemy is the same. Eric Bischoff must be stopped. When you need Mordecai, he will appear."

As the figure turned, the image faded and Victoria shook her head a couple of times to clear it properly.

"Mordecai," the Undertaker said the name once, tasting it and his dark eyes flashed once beneath the brim of his black hat. "Bitter and bruising, the Pale Rider. He wishes to help our cause."

"If he wishes to bring his power to help us then we cannot stop him. He will be useful," replied Sting. "Although he may not follow the orders of the Dark Warrior."

"You can't discipline the Pale Rider," put in Raven. "He has his own mission here on Earth. He deals out justice, heavenly justice. If he wants to help us, we don't have a choice."

Sting nodded. They'd all heard of the Pale Rider. He was another being made of darkness but cloaked in sparkling white. He was a herald for goodness with an unmatched strength of magic. But the Pale Rider chose his causes carefully and when he fixed his sights on something, nothing stood in his way. Sting wondered if Mordecai would let his anger get out of hand. He was known for blowing many things out of proportion and destroying a lot more than was needed.

"We can deal with Mordecai when and if he arrives to help us," Sting decided out-loud, effectively drawing a line under their discussion. "We need to focus on Bischoff and Evolution."

"Bischoff is easily intimidated if you press the right buttons," spoke up Victoria, leaning heavily against the wall with her arms crossed. "He's easily eliminated."

"Its Evolution we have to worry about," picked up Beulah. "They're the ones giving Bischoff the money and the power he needs. Without them, he's easy pickings."

"So we need to eliminate Evolution," summarised Sting thoughtfully. "They will be a hard faction to break."

"Not if you pick the right place," spoke up Undertaker, taking a first step forward. "Triple H and Ric Flair would be the hardest to try and pry apart – they know they need each other to remain unbeatable. They only keep Orton and Batista in the faction to stop them from fighting against them."

"So we need to tear off Orton and Batista," summised Raven, cracking his knuckles loudly but no one flinched. "Will they be easy to dispose of?"

"Batista's an animal," put in Victoria. "But he's smart; he knows what he's doing. We'd have to make a very good offer to him to persuade him to leave Evolution."

"Randy Orton was born into wrestling knowledge," spoke up Undertaker. "He has soaked it up since the day he was birthed. He breathes the business and knows all its twists. He knows it's wise and safe to stay within Evolution and wait for the old guard to die out. He knows it may take years but he is patient for a young man."

Sting let these thoughts wash into his mind, mental images of the two men forming themselves. They had to be taken from Evolution. But the question was how?

"Are there any weaknesses we can exploit?" he asked.

"Randy loves women," said Beulah. "But then all of Evolution does."

"But he does love one more than others," Victoria's voice took on a tone of excitement. "He's had his eye on Stacy Keibler for a long time now. I bet she could persuade him to leave Evolution."

"Involving mortals in affairs of darkness is not an option," Sting cut in firmly. "They cannot stand the powers we weld, she could be destroyed."

"Stacy's a sweet girl. She might not have the powers that we possess but if we told her about Evolution's plans, shed be willing to do all she could to help us," insisted Victoria. "I know she's made of pure sunlight but sometimes, it takes that to seduce the darkness."

Sting stared at Victoria for a long moment. Her words filtered into her mind as the others waited patiently for his decision. He, as the Dark Warrior, had the final word on any matter as serious as this.

"We will allow her one chance," he said at last. "I know the treacheries of the women wrestling produces; they look for opportunities and suck money out for as long as she can. She may double cross us all."

"You speak from experience, Dark Warrior," Desperado stated.

"You know I do. Priestess, if you think we can trust this girl then tell her about Evolution's machinations but leave the Gathering out. If we can pry Orton out of their clutches then we will have a chance."

Victoria checked her wrist watch and shook her head.

"I doubt Stacy'll still be awake, I can catch up with her tomorrow before the show. I could even ride with her," Victoria offered.

"And meanwhile we'll settle our sights on the rest of Evolution," Sting continued, a smile flickering across his lips. "They've become unnerved and we can peel them apart."

"Sounds like a charm," a smile spread throughout Raven's words as he pocketed his book and pencil. "I miss the Gathering when it's not around."

"This is our art," voiced Undertaker. "No one else can produce what we do when we are one."

Sting smiled and nodded. High above him, he heard the vulture settling down for the night. The Gathering would sleep here in the warehouse, there was plenty of room after all and as much as he was called to be alone, it was a good thing to be surrounded by people who knew him so well that he didn't have to explain himself.