Trembles started running up and down Mark's mammoth form. A veteran wrestler, a locker room leader, a man who was worshiped by millions and had claimed to fear nothing, an man who was the master of a character sunk deeply into satanic-like actions, was scared so badly he was shaking. The tremors were especially severe around his upper body, and his broad muscular shoulders were visibly trembling, as bile raised from fear welled up in his throat.

Scared half to death, he slowly raised his head, still on his knees. The laughter had stopped. Thank God it had stopped. He didn't think he could have taken a second more of that mind grating, heart piercing grate. Although he blinding pain in his head hadn't gone away, it was slowly receding, so he was able to focus a little better. All he could see in front of him was a dark brick wall, presumably the side of the arena, and extremely faintly he could make out his shadow, cast from the distant lights in the other parts of the parking lot.

Then something moved.

Or at least, sounded like it moved, very slightly.

Mark's fight or flight instinct took over and he quickly rose to his knees, one hand touching the ground in front of him for support, as he glared at the air in front of him. His mind raced for an idea. Something to grab. A plan. Anything.

Before he could come up with a course of action that resulted in anything other than confronting whatever it was that was terrorizing him, it moved again. The soft smack of skin against stone was clearly audible in the quiet night air. Mark was too stunned to talk, let alone shout at the thing, and he simply remained in horrified stillness, watching with growing shock as his shadow stretched. It visibly stretched.

"Oh, my, God," Mark breathed out so low he could barely hear himself. Thankfully the shaking started to subside, but his breathing seemed dead set on never leveling out.

His shadow, which like any normal shadow; it had been an exact copy of his outline against the brick wall; a large, darker blob, crouched down, as Mark was on his knees.

And it had moved. Stood up.

Mark's green eyes were fixed on it, and he forgot to breath as utter shock at this phenomenon took over his better senses. Unless there was another giant of a man standing behind him who had the exact same shadow as he did, Mark was positive his shadow had moved. And yet, there was a bulge at the bottom. Where he was crouched, he still cast a shadow.

'Two shadows?' He thought numbly as his gaze traveled slowly up and down the tall figure of...his shadow.

Then it jerked. It tilted its head a little bit.

That was all Mark could take. He wildy scrabbled to his feet, his shadow stretching up to match up with the other perfectly. He whirled around, only to find an empty parking lot behind him. Mark narrowed his eyes, and slowly turned back around to look at the wall. He let out a gasp when he saw a dark...thing fleeing down to the right. And his shadow was what copied the figures every move as it fled.

'Mine.' Mark thought with a racing pulse. 'That was my shadow. My fucking shadow.'

The big man hustled and turned around as fast as he could, taking off back towards where there was light, back towards the arena. At this point, he could care less what poor guys windshield he had busted open.

He was going so fast that he was unable to slow down when he saw someone coming in his direction. With a thud, he collided with a shadowy figure he knew quite well.

"Aww Jesus Mark," Came the high pitched reply from somewhere underneath him.

Mark, still extremely shaken, didn't notice that he'd been given the chance to turn his little moment of klutziness into something funny. He simply lounged, sprawled on top of the other wrestler on the asphalt.

"Get off, you freakin' cow!" He grunted again, this time pushing against Mark with all his might. Off course, he knew if Mark didn't want up he couldn't get him up no matter how hard he tried. Kurt was sore and tired after his match, and his friend was practically a giant. Still, he struggled. "What are you aiming to do? Get off!"

Finally Mark scrambled up from the mess of arms and legs with a groan, stumbling a few steps as he swing back around to stare at Kurt as the other man struggled to his feet as well. "No, I don't need any help." He said sarcastically as the helping hand Mark usually instantly offered never made an appearance.

He brushed his now rumpled suit off, and looked at Mark expectantly. "What's gotten into you?" He asked, his expression growing serious when he noticed Mark's extremely frazzled appearance. "Mark, you're really pale. Are you alright-"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine."

"Yeah, right." The olympian gave him a disbelieving look as he started moving to ward the direction Mark had come from. Alarm settled in Mark's eyes because his friend was headed into a place where something beyond disturbing had just happened to him.

"Uhh, " He muttered, and stood still for a second, torn between fear of the unknown and care for his friend. The strong bond of friendship soon won over, and he found himself tagging reluctantly after Kurt. "Uhh, uhh Kurt," He fumbled.

"My car!" Kurt suddenly bellowed, and took off ahead.

Mark's face, which was already pale because of fright, turned ashen, and then bright red as realization of what he had done rushed to him in one intuitive blast. He quickened his pace o catch up with the man, who was sure to be angry when he got closer to see the damage. "Kurt, I uh, I can explain about that,"

He slowed to a stop, at Kurt's side, his hand going to rest on the lower part of Kurt's shoulder in hopes that he wouldn't take the news too badly.

But when he saw what was on the car, the formerly flying crowbar that was sticking out the back window paled in comparison. "Eww." Was all the awed Mark could manage as he looked on with wide eyes.

From their vantage point of about ten feet, both wrestlers could see that Kurt's large car, that had been, and was probably still, under the thick cover of roaches that coated it, an expensive automobile.

The disgusting critters somehow were stuck to the entire vehicle. Mark was both revolted and in a state of awe as he and Kurt crept closer, and the extent of the roaches covering the car became clearer.

They were everywhere. And they were dead. Or at least, the vast majority of them were. Some antennas and legs still waved frantically above the sea of bodies, but most were still. Their hard, brown bodies extended over the hood, the trunk, and the back of the car easily. But what confounded Mark and Kurt, was how they stuck to the sides of the car.

"What the hell," Mark said as he crept a little closer, leaving Kurt just standing with his mouth slowly opening and closing like a fishes. The big man walked the entire length of the car, squinting in the darkness as he tilted his head down to look at the car. Finally he stopped, and crouched down to lean back on his heels right next to the right rear door. He leaned close, and then gasped. "Kurt, they're stuck on with some kind of liquid." he called out, his attention never wavering. Gingerly Mark nudged the body of one of the roaches and it easily fluttered to the ground. What was left was a thick, dark substance. Mark swiped a little off and rubbed it between his fingers. 'It's gooey,' He smelled it, frowned, and suddenly jerked back.

"Kurt!" He said, sprinting the few steps between he and the other man. "You got that stupid little light?"

The shorter man stared up at him like he was insane for a moment, before blinking as a wave of understanding filled his face. He stuck his hand in his pocket, and came out with a set of keys. After a moments fumbling, a very small penlight ripped a hole through the darkness.

Mark huddled around the tiny light and held his hand under it. "It's..." Mark started, looking at the liquid that covered his fingers with horror.

"Blood." Kurt finished when Mark didn't, looking back up at him. "Who would do something like that?"

"I don't know man, but we better call Vince and then the cops."

"Right." Kurt nodded. This time he was the one who was shaken. "Come on." he cast a last glance at his once gorgeous Jag and started a fast pace back towards the arena.

"Yeah." Mark answered. But he lingered a few seconds after Kurt, glancing around in the darkness with the distinct feeling that what had happened to him earlier and this incident weren't simply coincidence, but connected. He couldn't tell Kurt any of that, of course. 'It was...' His mind fished for something to explain what had gone on earlier. Something logical. One brilliant idea to explain away the sheer craziness of his encounter. Nothing came, and he decided the best thing to do was forget about it. 'Nothing. Something. I don't know.'

Then he turned and started after Kurt, his unease evident in the way he walked so quickly to catch up.