Alright, Ladies and Gents...this chapter is a bit...different. I tried to get the pacing down right, and I hope it worked well. Some parts may be confusing, but hopefully it's clear who's point of view it is, because it does switch back and forth fairly quickly.
This chapter is rated M for violence. Yes, violence. If you are in any way unable/opposed to reading about a bloody fight, I totally understand, and will forgive you if you skip this chapter. While it is crucial to the story, you can get by without the icky little details. Of course, knowing my reviewers somewhat, I don't think y'all fall into this category, so no worries. :)
This chapter is a bit long, but there was no other way I could break it up...Sorry if it's a problem.
And, finally, this chapter actually made me sad to write. I had to get into a hell of a mood to put it together, and I hope it comes across well. If there are any glaring mistakes, please let me know, because I may have missed them in the emo moments this chapter inspired...
All that being said, I hope you all enjoy! Onto the story!
Hunter didn't wait. Within seconds of seeing the Deadman approach, he charged him with a roar, going for his middle, to take him down hard and hopefully remain in a superior position. He wanted things to end quickly, because he knew that the longer it went on, the more of a chance there would be that something would go horribly wrong.
The Undertaker saw the charge coming, however, and side stepped expertly, grabbing Triple H by his neck and slamming him hard into the nearby wall. Hunter saw flashes of lights dance before his eyes as his head cracked against the concrete and the all-too-familiar wetness of fresh blood, but he recovered quickly and grabbed the Deadman's incoming fist, twisting the wrist and applying a hammerlock, going behind the larger man before aiming a punch at his lower spine, and then a kick to the back of his left knee.
'Taker went down hard, knee buckling, and Hunter was on him in a second, throwing wild but powerful punches at his face and torso. Not one to be out-punched, however, the Undertaker rolled over so that he was in the superior position and slammed him knee into Helmsley's gut.
Triple H's eyes opened wide as he struggled to breath for a moment; however, he didn't have a moment, as the Undertaker punched him hard, right in the nose. Blood gushed out almost instantly, flowing into the Game's mouth and even getting into his eyes as he was pushed onto his back. The Undertaker's fists crashed against Hunter a few more times, dizzying the smaller man dangerously, before Triple H reached up and dug his fingers into the Deadman's eyes.
'Taker gave a short growl, hands instinctively going to his injured retinas. In that instant, Hunter's foot connected hard with his stomach, sending him backwards and off the smaller man.
"Fuck you!" Triple H was yelling as he stood and began to stomp the downed Deadman. He kicked at the Undertaker's ribs repeatedly, shouting obscenities, praying that he'd hear that satisfying crack that one hears when breaking a man's bones.
But the Undertaker anticipated Hunter's intent, and when that last, hard, rib-shattering kick came, he caught it between his arm and waist, taking the Game down. Still holding the leg, he began to twist the ankle and leg, trapping it between two arms and his body now, wrenching it so that Triple H gave a long cry of pain as he struggled.
"No submissions, boy," the Undertaker whispered, wrenching harder, drawing another scream from the Game. It made him smile, hearing Triple H's cries of agony. To further injure the leg--and, more importantly, break it at the kneecap--'Taker started to scissor the leg with his own. However, that was a mistake, as Hunter knew a few submission moves of his own. With expert precision, Triple H grabbed the Undertaker's leg, now within reach, and used all his strength to roll over onto his front.
Now the Undertaker gave a short gasp of pain, feeling agony shoot up his bad leg and even up his back. He realized dimly that he was in some version of a heel hook, and even though he still had Triple H's ankle, he'd have to let go, unless he wanted their match to end with two broken legs. And he had a sinking suspicion that his leg would be the one breaking first.
With a frustrated growl, he released Hunter, who released him in turn. Triple H lay on the ground, clutching his ankle and lower leg, face set in a grimace of agony. The Undertaker stood up slowly, noting the pain in his leg and lower back, sneering over the Game. He looked down at the smaller man with contempt before grabbing him by the neck and pulling him into a standing position. With a snarl, he pushed him up against a nearby car, choking him with both his hands.
"This is gonna end tonight," he whispered, tightening his grip, seeing the smaller man begin to turn red with the struggle to breathe. All of a sudden, however, he was sinking, pain shooting through his groin and paralyzing him.
"Son of a bitch!" the Undertaker growled as he knelt on the ground, realizing that the Game had gone downstairs with the quintessential dirty move.
"I do what I must to win, Deadman, and don't you ever forget it!"
The Undertaker looked up, seeing Hunter, seeing the sledgehammer in his hands. 'He must have put it here earlier… Cheating, no good bastard,' he thought angrily.
"You son of bitch, you better make this shot count," he growled right before the hammer came down hard on his skull, busting him wide open and sending him unconscious to the ground.
Triple H stood over the Undertaker. He had swung the hammer with all his might, and the impact of hammer-on skull had sent a painful vibration up his arm. Never had he hit anyone so hard before, and the Undertaker's busted forehead was a testament to that.
If he was still alive, he was going to need a hell of a lot of stitches.
"I win," Hunter said quietly, kicking the Deadman's arm lightly, seeing no signs of consciousness. "But just in case..." He lifted the hammer high above his head, all set to start randomly breaking bones in the Deadman's body. In his heart, he was thanking his lucky stars that the battle ended so soon, because even if that short amount of time, he had taken some serious damage. He shivered with the thought.
However, Hunter soon realized that he was feeling the icy coldness settling on his skin, making him shiver. It gave him pause. He looked around the room several times, not sure of what he was looking for, but feeling a growing sense of terror and then, finally, he looked down.
And almost screamed.
The Undertaker was sitting up.
Shawn gave Mr. Kennedy a hard knife-edge chop, making the younger man cry out and clutch his reddened chest. He started to follow up with an Irish Whip into the ropes, but Kennedy reversed it almost immediately, and twisted Shawn's arms quickly, turning the move into a short-arm clothesline.
HBK hit the mat hard, and Kennedy was on him in a heartbeat, punching him in the face and chest. The ref began counting, and at four, Kennedy backed up. He pulled Shawn up, twisting the older man's arm, going for a hammerlock only to have it reversed. Shawn reached down between his legs and grabbed Kennedy's, sending him tumbling down. Still holding Kennedy's legs, Shawn flipped over the man, landing in a pinning situation.
"One…two…" At two, Mr. Kennedy powered out and hopped to his feet. But Shawn was there to meet him. The two men exchanged punches, with the Heartbreak Kid getting the advantage, before tripping Kennedy again, this time with a drop-toe hold.
A second after the younger man hit the floor, he felt his arm and neck being wrenched painfully as Shawn Michaels applied a brutal Crossface. Luckily for him, Shawn wasn't very heavy, and just as the pain was becoming unbearable, he was able to drag himself over to the bottom rope and grab it. The ref began his count again, this time for Shawn, and at 4-and-a-half, he released the hold, kicking Kennedy once in the side as he backed away.
"Get up, Kid," Shawn whispered, beginning to Tune Up the Band. He was ready for this match to be over. He stomped his foot once, twice, three times…
But Mr. Kennedy had anticipated Sweet Chin Music and caught Shawn's incoming leg. With a cocky smile, he shook his head at the Heartbreak Kid and drove the point of his elbow into Shawn's knee, making the older man cry out in pain and fall to the mat.
Eyes completely white, head bleeding profusely, the Undertaker was starting to rise to his feet.
Triple H backed away a step, instinctively, eyes wide, hand clutching the sledgehammer. The Undertaker took a slow step towards him, and then suddenly exploded into motion, tackling the Game to the ground and raining punches on him, even head butting him hard enough to split the smaller man open, their blood mingling as it flowed out onto the floor.
Hunter felt himself losing consciousness during the onslaught, but he knew well that if he blacked out during this fight, he'd most likely never wake up again. And if he did wake up, it'd probably be in a casket, having been buried alive…
Pure fear stirred him to action, and he brought the hammer--still in his hand--up, and slammed it into the Undertaker's side, the same side he had kicked mercilessly before.
And now, that satisfying crack did echo through the garage. The Undertaker stopped punching, face betraying no emotion. His hand went to his side, clutching what had to be at least one broken rib. Hunter, barely conscious himself, smashed the hammer into the Deadman's side again, crawling out from under him.
A thin line of blood began to trickle from the Undertaker's mouth as he stood to face Triple H, apparently feeling little or no pain.
'There's no way in hell he can still be standing!' Hunter thought angrily. He charged the Deadman again, hammer raised, but met with a knee in his stomach that made him sink down slowly.
However, the Undertaker did not let him fall. Instead, he grabbed the Game by his hair, and dragged him over towards a stack of concrete blocks. Without a word, without a hint of emotion, he began slamming Hunter's head on the blocks, again and again watching the man's blood stain them a dark red color. He did it until he was satisfied, letting the smaller man drop almost limp to the ground, head bleeding profusely, eyes clouded with pain and the nearness of unconsciousness.
With a merciless growl, he slammed his foot into the Game's side. Hard. Hunter gave a cry, body curling into a ball as he clutched his injured rib cage, as he struggled to breathe yet again. The Undertaker picked him up and slammed his body into the wall now, the impact knocking the breath from him. And before he could begin to recover from that, he felt himself being slammed into what felt like steel mesh, the links digging into his flesh.
"Fuck," Triple H hissed between clenched teeth, rolling off the steel. He was in agony. He was losing too much blood too quickly. He was going to pass out soon.
And the Undertaker was standing over him now, murder in his green eyes.
Hunter, for the first time since the fight had started, thought of Shawn.
'I can't lose him like this,' he thought, squeezing his eyes shut, surprised to feel a few tears slide down his face along with the blood. 'I refuse to lose! I love him!'
With a growl, he reached for the hammer that had long ago dropped from his fingers. "I can't lose," he said aloud, eyes narrowing. "I love him."
Something flickered in the Undertaker's eyes for a moment, giving him pause.
Another mistake.
Triple H, the Cerebral Assassin, brought the head of the hammer hard against the front of the Undertaker's knee cap, slamming it against the soft tissue and bone. The Deadman went down with a cry, clutching at his knee, expression finally twisting into one of pain. He lifted his aptly named equalizer and brought it down once more on the Undertaker's knee, drawing another cry from him now. Feeling his bloodlust rising, Hunter climbed on top of the Undertaker and began to choke him fiercely with a chain he pulled from a pile of metals.
"If I have to kill you," he growled through clenched teeth, tightening the noose. "I'll do it! Do you hear me?! I'll kill you!"
Triple H felt the Undertaker's breaths begin to come slower and slower, and he assumed that he was winning, even as his own vision blurred and his grasp on consciousness became weaker and weaker.
Which may be the reason why he never saw the chokehold coming.
Mr. Kennedy stomped, twisted and tortured Shawn's knee for what seemed like forever, the Heartbreak Kid crying out each time, but never submitting. The brash young Superstar decided then to switch tactics, going for Shawn's back. He turned Shawn on his stomach and grabbed his legs, applying a Boston Crab to the Showstopper.
Shawn grimaced in pain, trying to drag himself to the ropes, fighting against Kennedy as he pulled him back towards the center of the ring. Using all of his strength, Shawn rolled over onto his back and managed to thrust Kennedy away with one powerful kick. He hobbled to a standing position, and out of the corner of his eye saw Kennedy approaching.
Bam!
Just that fast, Shawn delivered Sweet Chin Music, knocking Mr. Kennedy flat on his back. The crown was going wild as Shawn rose to his feet again, having fallen down while doing the super kick. He stared down at the younger man, and then a small smile came to his lips.
With a laugh, he put Kennedy in an Inverted Figure-Four leg lock, and the younger man began to scream in pain. Shawn kept applying more and more pressure to Kennedy's leg and knees.
Several long moments passed as Kennedy tried valiantly to escape. But it was over, and both men knew it. With another cry, he at last tapped out, the pain becoming too great. The bell was rung, and the ref helped Shawn to his feet, raising the Heartbreak Kid's hand in victory. Shawn smiled out over the crowd, clapping for them as they cheered for him.
With a bow, he limped from the ring, anxious to find Triple H and the Undertaker, because, really, they had never left his thoughts for an instant.
One minute he was strangling the Undertaker--the next he felt as though his head was going to explode and leave behind a bloody splash of gore on the walls and floor.
Triple H struggled wildly with the last of his strength, but the Undertaker had him locked into the deadly submission maneuver known as the Gogoplata. In a normal, fair match, the poor victim trapped in the hold would tap out within seconds of it being applied. Hunter had no such luxury, and the only thing he could do was twist and flail, and finally cry out as he felt what he was certain to be arteries rupturing.
Shawn limped down the hallway as fast as he could, barging into the RAW locker room. After a quick scan, he realized that Hunter wasn't in there. He started to go over to the SmackDown locker room, but before he made it half-way, he bumped into Kane, who had a surprisingly sympathetic look on his face, a look that only appeared when his eyes focused on the approaching Heartbreak Kid.
It made Shawn's blood run cold.
"Hey, Glen, have you seen your brother?" he asked quickly, running a hand nervously through his beautiful hair. "Do you know where he is? I can't find him or Hunter."
Kane nodded slowly. "He's in the garage." Shawn turned immediately to go, but Kane grabbed his arm gently but firmly, stopping him in his tracks. "He's in the garage with Hunter."
Shawn's eyes narrowed. "They're back there together? Why?" Again, that look of sympathy from Kane as he tore his arm away from him. "Wait, Glen, what do you know? Tell me!"
"I know that you shouldn't go back there."
"Why not?"
"Just trust me Shawn. For your own sake. Just…just wait in the locker room."
Shawn Michaels shook his head, denying something that had not been spoken, and took off running towards the garage, Kane's words only spurring him on.
Behind him, the Big Red Machine sighed.
"No one deserves heartbreak like that," he said softly before heading back to the RAW locker room, picking up his cell phone and dialing the number for an ambulance.
The Undertaker felt the Game's blood dripping onto his chest, flowing from the smaller man's mouth now, as well as his head. Though his mind was half-consumed with a dark, dense fog, he was still sensible enough to smile, and realize that this ordeal was almost at an end.
'And not a moment too soon,' he thought vaguely, very aware of the injuries Triple H had given him, and also very aware that he had about two minutes left before he passed out from blood loss. That first sledgehammer shot had caused a deep gouge form in his head, and the blood was pouring from it with no hint of slowing down. At the very least, it would require stitches. Even worse, he had momentarily lost control of himself, and that control was now only half-regained.
With a grim fascination, the Undertaker wondered what would happen if no one came to find them back here in the garage before they both bled to death.
'Now that would be funny,' he thought, tightening the hold and closing his eyes against his own pain, agony shooting from his injured knee, from his broken ribs. Triple H had nearly gone limp. It was over.
Or so the Undertaker thought. However, Triple H, through the blinding pain, was reaching out for his sledgehammer one last time. His fingers curled ever so slowly around the wooden handle, and he lifted it--barely--with his weakening arm.
At that moment, unbeknownst to either man, someone entered the garage, hearing the commotion, and came upon the brawling pair. He gasped at the sight, freezing in place, but neither man heard him, nor regarded him.
With the last of his strength and consciousness, Triple H brought the hammer down right on the Undertaker's head, letting gravity do most of the work as he gave one last, bloody cough, the world going black around him.
Both men were suddenly completely still. The fight was over.
And, not a meter away, Shawn Michaels felt the strength leave his legs and he sank slowly into a sitting position on the floor, tears pouring from his deep blue eyes, ragged breaths quickly becoming sobs as he stared at the two men he loved most in the world lying on the floor, looking for all the world to be dead, looking for all the world to have killed one another.
Shawn sat there for a long time, staring at them, at the blood and carnage, the end of the world on his face.
...And there we have it. Review?