I don't own any WWE wrestlers or figures utilized in this story. This is all from the mind of a brilliant scientist.

Later that night.

Mark sighed as he pulled up to his large ranch home. He winced as he saw Sara's car gone along with the girl's bikes. Mark grunted. Mark looked at the young boy. He shook his head the kid was at least six or seven inches taller than the average seven year old. Lance snorted in his sleep. Mark sighed, this was definitely his kid. "Lance, wake up." The little boy shot up with a start and looked around. Mark sighed, the kid was skittish beyond belief. "It's time to go inside."

"The house?" the little boy squeaked. Mark rolled his eyes.

"Where else do you think I'd take you." Mark shook his head, "anyway, I'm tired and it's time for you to go to bed so get out of the truck so we can go inside." The little boy looked down from the large tires and gulped.

"It's too high," he said. Mark rolled his eyes.

"Well jump, cause I'm not carryin' ya." Lance took another look at the ground and shook his head. Tears quickly welled up into his eyes. Mark groaned. "Knock it off, you're not a girl." Lance took a deep breath. He looked down again and gulped. Mark sighed, he was already on the other side of the truck and waiting for the little boy to man up. He crossed his arms, he refused to baby the boy. "I don't have all night." Lance closed his eyes and took a leap of faith. He jumped into the air and quickly came back down to the ground...hard. He landed on his hands and his face slammed into the concrete. Mark sighed. "Now stand up and dust yourself off." Lance stood up and did so, but noticeable tears were streaming down his face. "Come on, it's late." Lance turned and looked at the truck. Mark rolled his eyes. "What?" Lance gulped under his tears.

"My guitar," he said trying not to break down completely. Mark rolled his eyes.

"We'll get that in the morning." Lance looked back at the truck. Mark grunted, he didn't have time for this. He grabbed the boy's arm tightly almost pulling him off the ground practically drug him into the house. By the time they reached the top of the stairs, Mark could hear Lance's noticeable whimpering. "What's wrong with you?" Lance looked up with tears in his eyes.

"My leg hurts." Mark sighed he picked the little boy up and placed him on the bathroom sink. Mark rolled his eyes.

"You just scraped your knee." Mark turned to leave the room. Lance opened his mouth to ask for help, but thought better of it. The big man wouldn't help him if he was drowning. Slowly Lance slid off of the tall counter and winced when his foot hit the ground. He quietly limped to follow the man who he assumed was his father. "Lance!" The little boy limped faster. He didn't want to anger the scary man. Lance found him in a large empty bedroom pulling out clothes from his bag. The man threw them at him. "Here, change into these so you can go to sleep." Lance nodded and turned to walk out of the room. Mark sighed. "You can change in here, I ain't gonna look at ya." Lance's bottom lip quivered. Mark sighed. "FINE. Just change in here and I'll be back in two minutes," he said nodded quickly and almost instantly began to change clothes, he didn't want Mark to see the scars.

He quickly changed his shorts and into the tattered pajamas. Lance quickly tried to put his shirt on. The little boy muttered a string of curses to himself as he got tangled up in the shirt. He'd always hated shirts. He began to get more were streaming down his cheeks. He heard the door jingle and almost passed out. He needed to finish now! Mark shook his head at the sight, kid couldn't even dress himself. Mark grunted and grabbed the boy's shirt. "Stop struggling," he said roughly, "you're making it worse." Mark gasped as he saw the red zig zagging lines down the boy's back. "Who did this?" Lance felt the tears pour from his eyes. Now he knew. "Lance, answer me."

"Daddy, 'cause I don't listen good." Mark grunted. No wonder the kid didn't want him in the room. Feeling oddly sympathetic he picked the little boy up off of the ground and carried him into the bathroom. Mark carefully applied the ointment onto the boy's still seemingly fresh wounds and then wrapped tape around it. Mark sighed. He saw the tears hanging off of the boy's cheeks. He shook his head, he was going to have to toughen the kid up.

Lance felt oddly pathetic sitting there letting this man he'd just met take care of him. He knew the man didn't like him. He looked down, not one bit. Lance wiped his tears, he didn't want to ruin this. This was his last chance. "I can get down," he said. Mark rolled his eyes, but stepped out of the way. Lance jumped, but almost killed himself. Mark sighed, the kid was clumsy too. Mark was tired, he was really tired. He picked the boy up and quickly walked into his room. Gently he laid the boy onto the mattress.

"Get some rest." Mark quickly left the room and closed the door. He was exhausted. He was father again, and this time he was single. Oh joy.

Two hours later

Lance was sitting straight up in his bed and tried to brush the tears away from his eyes. It was dark and scary in here. He gulped. He wanted some light. He'd found a lamp but it didn't work. Lance did everything in his power to find the door but he just couldn't. He groaned. His belly was aching, he hadn't eaten since yesterday. He rubbed his eyes and sat on the floor. He suddenly felt tired. Very tired.

The Next Morning

Mark stretched and rolled out his bed. He shook his head, it just seemed so much more empty now that no one else was in it with him. "Mark?" Mark's head shot towards the closet. Was he imagining things?

"Sara?" Her figure entered into the room.

"Hello."

"What are you doing here?" Sara shrugged.

"I came to get the rest of my clothes and the girls wanted to get a few toys." Mark nodded and sat back down.

"So you are still leaving?" Sara nodded and wiped away a tear.

"Um, I'm going to take the girls up north to my mom's house for a few weeks. I'll be back and then you can have them for Thanksgiving." Mark nodded still in shock. Sara cleared her throat. "Um, so where is he?" Mark looked at her, like she cared.

"In the guest room near the back." Sara gasped. "What?"

"Mark that room is pitch black at night."

"And?" Sara rolled her eyes and left the room. Mark sighed and followed her.

"Did you leave a light on for him?" Mark rolled his eyes. "Didn't think so. Ugh, Mark you don't think sometimes." Mark grunted, it was too early for this crap. "He's just a little boy Mark. He's probably afraid of the dark." Mark sighed, he hoped not. Sara opened the door and gasped. There was Lance laying on the floor face first. Sara turned and cast a knowing look at Mark. She gently picked Lance up off of the ground. The little boy stirred. "Are you ok?" The little boy looked around scared and then looked down hurriedly when he saw Mark. He nodded quickly. "What happened?" Lance shook his head. "Come on buddy, tell me." Lance looked up at Mark who nodded.

"I uh was scared. It was dark and I was hungry." Sara looked up at Mark and shook her head. Sara stood up and picked the little boy up. Mark sighed as he watched Lance clutch to Sara like it was the most natural thing in the world.

"Don't baby him," he said roughly. Sara rolled her eyes.

"That's exactly what he needs," she said as she left the room. Mark rolled his eyes and followed them. Just what the boy needed, more coddling. At this rate the kid would be picking flowers in no time. Mark grunted not if he could help it. He wanted to make a man, not a flower carryin' mama's boy. He was raising a man, not some weak little boy. Oh he'd ensure that.

Mark sighed as he heard the car doors slam and drive away. He set his mug down in front of him. This was his new reality. He looked at Lance who was eating a breakfast Sara had prepared for him. Mark shook his head, if it was up to him the kid would be eating cereal. The boy pushed his plate away from him. Mark sighed. "Are you done?" Lance nodded staring at the marble counter. "Yes sir?" Lance nodded.

"Yes sir." Mark nodded.

"Alright, go and clear your plate and put it in the sink." Lance climbed off of the stool and limped towards the sink. Mark rolled his eyes at the Spongebob bandage on the boy's knee. Did he really need that for a little scrape? Mark shook his head, the boy was weak.

"I'm done." Mark nodded.

"Well I've gotta finish my coffee and then we'll go see about gettin' you some clothes." Lance nodded. "While we're out, we could get you a hair cut too." Lance shook his head. Mark raised his eyebrow. "Come again?" Lance gulped.

"I like it long," he said quietly. Mark rolled his eyes.

"Ok, you're going to have to speak louder if you want to talk to me and it's not up for discussion. I'm the parent you're the child, understand?" Lance felt tears rise into his eyes.

"Yes sir." Mark nodded.

"Go and brush your teeth, so we can go." Lance stood there. "What now?"

"Can I have my guitar, please?" he said quietly. Mark cupped his hand behind his ear, what? "Can I have my guitar, please?" he said louder. Mark grunted.

"Thing mean a lot to you, huh?" Lance nodded avoiding Mark's eyes.

"Alright, it'll be down here when you finish brushing your teeth." Lance smiled happily.

"Thank you sir." He ran up to hug Mark, but Mark's face hardened.

"Calaway men don't hug," he said coldly. Lance nodded and stepped away. He awkwardly turned away and headed back for the stairs. With each step Lance knew he was fading from his old life and into this new life. A framed picture of Mark and his wife Sara fell off of the wall as Lance passed. He stopped, looked down, and then ran upstairs to his room. He hoped that wasn't a bad omen. Lance had no idea.