Disclaimer: I don't own anyone, other than Lily and Madison.
Rated: M
Warning(s): Slash, Past Mpreg, Storyline Fanfic, etc.

It seemed that things took a drastic turn from bad to worse after the first of many Brock Lesnar-Undertaker encounters...

"What the fuck were you thinking?" Brock was absolutely infuriated, blood boiling in his veins. Blood slowly slithered down his mutilated palm. "Is that your idea of entertainment, you psycho son-of-a-bitch?" His screaming was attracting the attention of the other superstars, but no-one dared to intervene.

"Brock," Hunter swallowed hard. His face remained a steely mask, but in his eyes, his fear was obvious. "Brock, this isn't the way to vent your frustration. In fact, you shouldn't have any frustration at all. You got your match at WrestleMania. Now, get out of my face before I change my mind about giving it to you so graciously!"

A twisted, demented smirk slowly materialized onto Brock's face. "You think that you can get away with talking to me like that?"

Hunter fought to control an involuntary shiver, but ended up losing the battle in the end. "I think that I can talk to you any way that I want, because, at the end of the day, I'm still your boss." That fact seemed to be absolutely meaningless to Brock, who only seemed to be bemused by the fact.

"You may be my boss," he spat out the word, disgusted, "but I'm more of an authoritarian than you could ever be." That smirk returned, "And definitely more of a man."

Here, Hunter found that the Beast Incarnate was staring at his paunch, the leftover baby fat from his pregnancy. The birthplace of all of his insecurities, all of his WrestleMania doubts, everything... Brock seemingly sought to add one more thing to that list. Hunter's hands balled into fists at his sides and he was barely able to refrain from putting his fist through the side of Brock's face - in the end, it would only land him in the same boat as Glen Jacobs, who had put his hands on one too many employees during his time as the Director of Operations. He didn't need to bring any more legal problems to the WWE.

As it turned out, Hunter didn't need to worry about slapping Brock Lesnar. Brock's hand flew up in a blur and Hunter couldn't help but wince, preparing for an impact that would never come. Brock patted his cheek condescendingly, smiling darkly as Hunter's eyes widened and darkened with hatred. That is when the slap came. It was so strong that Hunter's head was sent reeling and he stumbled back, hitting the wall with a dull thud. Slowly, his hand rose to his smarting cheek, the tanned skin already turning a vibrant red, and then, slowly morphing into a disturbing bluish-purple.

Brock tapped his cheek again, relishing in the way that Hunter winced with each painful pat. "That hurt, didn't it?" Hunter had to resist the urge to spit on him. "If you don't tell your precious little husband to lay-off and lay-down like a good little dog..." he laughed, "I'll make that look like child's play."

Hunter looked ready to tear the Beast Incarnate a new one, but willed himself to remain firmly rooted to the wall. "Is your little threat supposed to scare me?"

"No... No, no, no... Who am I kidding? What was I thinking, thinking a little threat like that would intimidate the mighty King of Kings?" The sudden change in Brock's demeanor was positively terrifying. "No, it would have to be something much more personal, something much more," once again, the paunch, "important..."

Hunter's eyes widened. "You wouldn't dare..."

A shove to his left shoulder sent him back into the wall again. "You call off your husband and keep him at bay 'till WrestleMania, and your precious girls will be fine."

"Threatening my children is grounds for immediate termination without a severance package, Lesnar. You watch your mouth or your ass will be on the unemployment line, and trust me - I'll make it so you'll be damn lucky if you end up begging for change on the street!" Hunter growled ferociously.

Brock just laughed. "You won't fire me, and both of us know it all-too-well." Laying a hand on Hunter's shoulder, he said, "You have one week to decide."

Hunter was about to make a retort, but Brock chose that moment to take his leave. It was probably a good thing that Brock chose that moment to take his leave, because Hunter was about to lose his cool. Instead, he spun on his heel and slammed his fist into the wall, over and over, until his knuckles split and blood poured over his hand, staining the wall... and then he pulled back, staring at the damage that he had just caused. His eyes then flickered from the bloody hand to his paunch, memories of Brock's threat all-too-fresh in his mind. If only the wall had actually been Brock's face...

"You really need to take better care of yourself, Hunt. Your kids don't need to see you this way." Steph said as she carefully bandaged up his hand.

"Yeah, well, at this point, I'm lucky that I still have my kids at all..." Hunter trailed off, conflicting emotions warring in his eyes.

Steph was his friend, and he trusted her implicitly. Even if they didn't necessarily always see eye-to-eye, and sometimes she backed him into corners in order to make decisions that she thought would be 'best for business' (whoever had the bright idea to make her VP of Creative didn't know the monster that they were breeding), they got along well and he could talk to her in a way that he couldn't with Mark. Steph was much more open with her emotions, and she seemed to understand and respect his at the same time. Hunter wasn't sure that he could say that about Mark any longer.

"You're in a tricky situation." Steph continued. "I can honestly say that, had he put his hands on me and threatened my kids, his ass would be put through the ringer. But with you," she shook her head, cleaning the blood off her hands, "You are just up the creek without a paddle."

Hunter stared at his wrapped-up hand, considering for a moment, "Mark left me. Even if I... Even if I wanted to tell him to stop... Whatever we had once... It's over."

"He asked you for a divorce?" Steph looked as if she had been the one that had been struck across the face.

Hunter did his best to look anywhere but at her face. He couldn't meet her eyes. "Not in so many words... we've been having problems lately... but its not like this is the first time. Things always get tense around WrestleMania season because of the Streak and whatnot. I just..." he trailed off, sounding pained.

"You just what?" Steph pushed, trying to help him out as best she could.

Hunter sighed. "We're just separated now. Nothing's official... yet." He took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose with his good hand. "Every WrestleMania, I get this feeling that 'this is the end', you know? The end of everything. With one colossal blow, the Streak will go down... and so will our marriage."

She shook her head, gently applying a bag of ice to his swollen, discolored cheek. "Mark loves you. That would never happen."

"How can you be so sure?"

That would have been the opportune moment for her to come clean about her conversation with Mark concerning the fate of the Streak at WrestleMania. She knew that, in doing so, she could straighten out a lot of the drama and conflicting emotions that were running rampant within Hunter. It would put him in a much better position with Mark, Brock, and the company as a whole. All she had to do was open her mouth and tell him that Mark actually wanted to lose. But something was holding her back - it was like there was an invisible hand clamped over her mouth, preventing those words from coming out.

Instead, she shrugged. Hunter took hold of the ice pack and she rose to her feet, smoothing out the wrinkles in her finely tailored dress pants. "Call it a woman's intuition, if you will. I've got a good feeling about it. Don't you trust me?"

Hunter offered her a sad, almost reluctant smile. "How could you ever doubt that I trust you? I trust you more than anyone else in the world."

Steph cocked an eyebrow. "Even your husband?"

That smile vanished completely. In its place, haunted shadows took hold of Hunter's face. "Sometimes."

"Well, you know that I love you, and that you're always welcome here." Steph motioned around to her spacious, executive hotel room. "Make yourself at home. There're extra bottles and formula in the en-suite kitchen if Madison gets hungry tonight."

"Thanks," Hunter nodded, making a mental note to remember that - Madison usually got hungry sometime around one o' clock in the morning - and then quickly added, "for everything."

"Not a problem." Steph pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek, before squeezing his hand tightly. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight." He called after her.

Neither noticed the small child standing just beyond the doorway to the guest suite, who had come looking for Hunter after a nightmare had woken her from her dreamland. Little ears had heard much too much, and big, fat tears were rolling down her chubby little cheeks. Was Mommy leaving Daddy? And was he going to be with the mean, shrill-voiced lady who headed Mommy's company? And why had they kissed? Kisses were just for family, as far as she knew - and that lady wasn't family. Lily sniffled, before running back to the place where she and her little sister were staying. What was going on?