Two years on, Mark was still on the road. He was still taking names and "making people famous", and the crowds in town after town after town were still loving his "badass" image and attitude.
He was back in Texas, in Austin, and he had just finished his match for the night. He was heading back toward his locker room in a sweat, looking forward to taking a cool shower and heading back to the hotel for a long sleep.
Annoyingly, a stagehand caught up with him, coming at a sprint to keep up with Mark's tall, striding walk.
"Mr McMahon wants to see you in the VIP room, as soon as you can," he said, slightly out of breath. Evidently he had been chasing him for a while. Mark smiled. He knew that if Glen had known HE was being chased by a staff member he would have walked even faster to escape them. Then he would have told Amy what had happened and the two would lounge in their locker room for hours, laughing about it.
Mark was more mature than that. He stopped, sighed frustratedly and turned around, heading for Vince's office. At length, he reached it. He knocked at the door and waited for Vince to call him in. Vince knew Mark wasn't the kind of guy who wanted to beat around the bush. He gestured to a chair and Mark took it. Vince looked serious as he clasped his hands lightly on the desk.
"This has been coming for a long time," Vince said. "Especially with your attitude and performance over the last few months."
Something inside Mark's head dropped. He looked deathly serious. Fear began to prickly touch the back of his neck. Vince suddenly brightened. "We're giving you a WWE Title shot," he said, leaning back and waiting for Mark's reaction.
Air rushed out of Mark's lungs with all the haste of a speeding freight train. He leaned forward as relief etched onto his face.
"You had me going for a second there," Mark told him with a mix of relief and resentment. It showed on his face as well as in his voice. It was hard to stop himself from glaring at Vince as the boss started to laugh.
"Sorry but the day has been long and boring for me, I have to take every chance at a laugh," Vince explained as he saw the look of concern on Mark's face. Mark eventually calmed down and ended up laughing himself.
"I thought I was getting fired for a second there," he replied with a smile on his face.
Mark was still happy as he rode back to the hotel he was staying at. He was finally getting a fresh short at the WWE Title. He was happy as he dismounted. He was happy as he walked up to the door. This time he didn't even whack his forehead off it as he made his way to his room.
He flung his bag absently into the corner, then sat on the bed. He lay there, content, for a few minutes. Then, entirely on a whim, he got out of the photoalbum and started idly flicked through it. Rose would be over the moon when he told her about the title shot.
He placed the album carefully under the bed and lay back to sleep. A dull ringing grogilly brought him to his senses. He vaguely recognised the phone and groped around. His sleep-dulled eyes barely managed to register the time. It was 2AM. THat was an insane time to call. He picked up the phone and gave a gravelly, muffled "Hello?"
"Mark?" came an extremely fearful and worried voice. "It's Ross. Rose is in hospital."
Mark's face went like concrete and even went pallid. He sat up in bed and the phone to his ear. "What." He said it with firm authority, not wonderment.
"She was out on the town with friends, she went to cross a road when she was hit by a pickup truck."
"Is she ok?" mark said with a few telltale signs of fear slipping through his voice. Ross told him tearfully that she had suffered massive damage to her spine. The doctors had no idea if she would ever move again, let alone walk.
"It's alright," Mark said at last. "I'm coming home."