Over the next few weeks, when Rose had a match, and her female opponent was accompanied by a man, Mark would always interfere. The fans - and Vince - loved it, but Rose and Mark knew the real reason why he was interfering - Mark had vowed to make sure she was alright in her first few matches, at least until she could stand on her own two feet.
One night, on Raw, Rose was facing off against Trish Stratus, an early shot at the WWE Women's Championship. The match was intense, and Mark was making a rare appearance as a manager to watch and see how she did. A well-timed and aimed roundhouse kick floored Trish with easy grace, Mark had to catch himself before he cringed from the impact - the Undertaker visibly cringing would ruin his persona.
The Ref counted three and Mark's heart leaped as Rose was handed the Women's Championship belt, although he didn't show it for the sake of his character.
Just as she was celebrating her Win, Triple H's championship belt shone as he scrambled into the ring from the crowd. Rose didn't move. She wasn't scared so much as wondering what the hell Triple H was doing here. He brought a hand from behind his back. He was carrying a mic.
Mark started, hovering on the ring apron, only to have the ref try and move him away.
"Well well well," Triple H drawled to Rose. "Looks like you won your first championship," he looked over at Mark. "And all by yourself this time, I see."
Mark tried to push his way past Earl Hebner and into the ring.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Rose said firmly. Despite not having a mic and the din of the booing crowd, Triple H heard her loud and clear.
"Usually, your little boyfriend over there, comes into the ring and finishes the job for you," Triple H went on. He walked right up to her and stared her in the face. "Tell me, is it because you give him something in return?"
Mark snapped. He grabbed ahold of Hebner and threw him backwards to force his way into the ring. But he almost immediately stopped.
Triple H was looking at him, glaring at him. But anger wasn't on his face. There was a very large and rude red mark on his cheek. Mark looked to Rose, still frozen picturesque in the end of her forcefully-delivered slap to Triple H's face.
A grin crawled onto Triple H's face. He ignored Mark and looked back at Rose.
"Oo, feisty," he said, the mic still away from his mouth so only Rose heard. "Mind you, the woman who Taker had before preferred me over him, can't think why," he said, and he grabbed Rose's arm painfully before she could strike him again.
"She was a whore," Rose spat at him. "She wouldn't know love if it bit her in the ass."
"And you would?" Triple H was almost nose-to-nose with Rose.
Rose challenged his evil look with one of her own. "I've known that man since I was born. I know him."
Triple H was unfazed. "Apparently, rumour has it that you and the Undertaker have been having marital problems behind the scenes."
"THAT'S NONE OF YOUR DAMN BUSINESS!" Mark interjected. Rose stared at Triple H. Triple H turned to face Mark.
"Oh believe me, I've never had better news. With you trying to hold the fort at home with your little bitch here, I don't have to worry about you coming after my Championship."
"Worried?" Mark scoffed. "The great and powerful Jackass is afraid of me?" He looked at Triple H and wrenched the mic from his hands. "You have never beaten me, Triple H. You have never won once against me, and I proved to you already that you can't, ever, beat me. But if you've still got your head buried in your ass, then I guess I'll have to rip it out!"
Mark stared down at Triple H.
"You? Take me?" Triple H sneered. "That's a pretty funny joke."
"No, dumbass," Mark shot back. "You're the joke."
Rose laughed. Triple H shot a black look at her, mouthing the words "you little bitch."
"Hey, peckerwood," Mark grabbed Triple H's chin and wrenched Triple H's back to attention. "What's wrong? Hit a sore spot?"
Triple H was cornered and he knew it. Then he hit on the idea. He unsnapped his belt, glared at Mark, then before the Taker could blink, he smashed him in the face with the belt.
Shortly before he turned and struck Rose a massive blow with the same.
Rose crumpled to the ground. Mark, stumbling with blurry vision, saw her fall. He cursed Triple H and gritted his teeth. Rose was still concious, but Mark could see she was in serious pain. Triple H dropped his belt to the ground and climbed out of the ring to get his signature Sledgehammer.
Mark tried to stand up onto his feet but he buckled back onto his knees.
"Something else you remember about that match maybe?" Triple H growled. "An old steely friend perhaps?" Mark looked through the haze of dizziness the impact from the belt had left him with. "No?" Triple H sneered. "How about i JOG YOUR MEMORY?!"
He turned to face Rose's prone body, hammer raised high over her.
Mark acted on groggy instinct. He lunged forward and delivered a heavy low blow. The hammer dropped from Triple H's hands as he crumpled to the ground. In an animalistic flash of fury Mark dived upon Triple H, hammering him with both hands, beating him over the ground in a flurry so fast it was a blur to all but Mark himself.
Rose crawled, half-conscious,towards Mark. She hauled herself to her feet and staggered groggily to his side. The din and the noise from the crowd was a faceless rampant groan in her ears, disorienting and confusing her. She gingerly put a hand on his shoulder, and he suddenly stopped punching Triple H, peeling himself off his victim to stand shakily on his own feet.
Rose stood by him and looked at his eyes. Mark's eyes were full of a wild, empty fire that she had never seen in him before. They were wild and crazed, yes, but they were also fiery in a way she had never seen.
She wasn't even sure what to make of him. She only had a feeling that it was something to do with her...how he had furiously lunged on Triple H at the slightest provocation. None of those punches had been choreographed. It was all real anger, real rage, which Mark had brutally unleashed on the savaged Triple H.
Never taking those fiery eyes off her, Mark faced Rose. The crowd was a buzzing, thrumming echo around them as they stared into each other's very souls.
"Rose..." Mark mouthed, but knowing she would hear him, even though the noise was almost deafening. Mark wanted to scream at the crowd to shut up but he knew it was pointless. He walked a couple of paces, drawing closer to her. She looked back at him, feeling a pull toward him.
She suddenly looked from Mark to the flinching movement next to him. Too late, she knew what was happening.
Face a snarl, hands locked chokingly around the hammer, Triple H brought his weapon round in a lethal swing, crunching into Mark's back with a sickening snap.
Paralysed, Rose looked on in horror as Triple H dropped the hammer and started to beat Mark's head with his raging fists. Blood poured out of his scarred, torn forehead. Satisfied with his heinous attack, Triple H stood, laughing sadistically as he exited the ring and stalked out of the arena.
Rose dropped to her knees. Mark's breathing was short and rushed. His face was a bloody red mess. She crawled to his side, panicked words tumbling out of her mouth just like the rushes of air from her terrified lungs. She ran a hand over his forehead.
"Mark?" she said, tearfully and meekly. His eyes rolled to her scared face. He didn't need words for her to know that he couldn't move.
"Rose...stop...being...so...wimpy," he said determinedly."You've seen me...banged up before."
The joke didn't cheer Rose up. She grabbed his hand tightly. "I'm going to get you out of this, just like you did for me, I'm going to make sure you're okay."
Mark looked at her. There was no joke when he spoke. "Why?"
"Because..." Rose's eyes welled up and she held his hand to her heart. "Because I love you."