And now, the Raw segment...As someone pointed out, although Shawn wasn't there this week, he might as well had been with how much he was being mentioned! ShawnMuse is so smug right now...haha.

"I'm not going to do it. I'm not going to be the one who finishes it."

Hunter found himself repeating almost the exact same words he had delivered to Shawn last week, although this time he stood not in front of his best friend, but in front of the man who had challenged him in the first place.

The ever-dangerous Undertaker.

And though he had tried to explain himself, yet again, he could see the fires growing in the Deadman's green eyes, much like they had in Shawn's blue ones a week before. He had laid out his reasoning as best he could, and he had determined that that was all that he was going to do.

Let the Undertaker—and Shawn!—insult him. Let them call him a suit and tie. A sellout. He didn't give a flying fuck what those two felt because they were still caught up in an unending cycle of revenge and madness. Hell, he'd take all their insults, their tirades, their insane demands, because he had long ago decided his course of action.

What was at stake, he determined, was bigger than the three of them.

Which is why, after explaining himself to the Undertaker, Triple H turned to leave the ring. And even though a part of his heart was heavy (as Shawn had so easily discerned), his mind was, at least, at peace.

The madness was going to end with him. He was not going to be the one to destroy the Era.

"Hey, Businessman."

Triple H continued walking, continued climbing out of the ring. He could not...would not be goaded into fighting a match that he knew was bad for everyone.

But the Undertaker was relentless. "You know, you can put whatever spin you want on this, but at the end of the day, when you look at yourself in the mirror, all you're gonna see is a coward."

Those words, so very much like Shawn's, cut Hunter deeply.

More deeply than he had anticipated, apparently, because before he could stop himself, he was climbing back into the ring. Pacing like a caged tiger, he circled the Undertaker, brown eyes narrowing dangerously. After several moments, he ended up right back where he started:

Face-to-face with the Deadman.

"I am sick to death of this coward thing! You want a coward?" he yelled, barely holding back the rage that had been building behind his heart.

But Hunter knew this game. Hell, he was pretty sure that he had a part in creating the game.

Exercising the limits of his self control, he inhaled deeply, and even managed to smile at the Undertaker after a long moment, locking eyes with that cold green glare.

"I see what you're trying to do," Hunter declared, still smiling, though the hurt remained. "It's not going to work. I'm sorry, but the answer is no."

He left the Undertaker alone in the ring.

Strong in his initial convictions, knowing that what he did was unpopular, understanding that he'd be branded a coward by the other guys for the rest of his time in the WWE, Hunter left the ring.

The madness was going to end tonight.

In fact, he had made it all the way up the ramp, and had nearly exited the stage when the Undertaker deep voice came creeping across the arena, flowing easily and painfully into Hunter's ears:

"You know Hunter, I think I just figured it out."

Triple H froze at the end of the ramp. Something in the Undertaker's voice just now...

"You know that you can't do what your buddy Shawn Michaels couldn't do."

Hunter remained on the ramp, completely still, head down, face hidden in the shadows of the arena. A million thoughts swirled in his head, a million replies...and a million ways to make the Undertaker pay for his comment just now.

'Don't listen to him,' he begged himself, commanded himself. 'It has to end...I have to put a stop to-'

"Because you know that Shawn was always better than you."

Almost as if on its own, Hunter's head snapped up.

All of it...The doubts over the years...The pain he had endured...The insults, the soul-searching...the wondering, the questioning, the...uncertainty...

With just a single sentence, the Undertaker had brought back all of it.

Not only brought them back; he resurrected them and flung the rotten remains right into Triple H's face.

In an instant, Hunter's iron-clad resolve snapped like a brittle bone between strong, merciless fingers.

Ripping off his jacket and tie, Triple H rushed down the ramp, back into the ring, and into the Undertaker's face, nearly choking on his own rage the entire time.

"You think this has anything to do with Shawn and who's better?" he hissed, almost unable to breathe through his anger. "It has nothing to do with it!" As last week, Hunter's emotions were spilling over the wall of his control, and, once again, he couldn't seem to make it stop.

"Shawn couldn't get the job done! I know damn well that I can! I can do what Shawn couldn't do! I can finish it! I know it; you know it!"

The Undertaker looked at the Game steadily, his hooded eyes revealing nothing of what he felt. The shadows that surrounded him seemed to dance in the eerie purple glow, and if one looked closely, the subtle light of triumph had made its way into his face.

But none of that mattered to Hunter now. The Deadman had touched a part of the Cerebral Assassin's soul that should never be touched.

"You think that this suit and tie cover up layers of who I am? Well, all of those layers are gone!" He moved closer to the Undertaker, their noses nearly touching, their eyes locked in a too-familiar stare. "I'm standin' before you, and I'm looking you in the eye, and I am more certain than I've ever been want this? You want Wrestlemania? You want an end?

"You got it."

Triple H turned on his heel to leave, but as he reached the ropes, another thought struck him suddenly. Empty was his mind of thoughts of preservation, and even vengeance.

No, the Undertaker had gone far, far beyond all of that now.

"But there's one thing: If we do this, we go all the way. No return. No uncertainty. No excuses. The Streak ends, the Era ends, you get your End...We do this, we go all the way. I will face you at Wrestlemania under one condition:

"Hell in a Cell!"

Hunter was smoldering as he stood there, face-to-face, eye-to-eye with the Undertaker. He had accepted the challenge; he had laid down one of his own; the two of them were going to meet, and this whole goddamn mess was going to be settled once and for all.

Yes, he stood there, simmering in his rage and the resurgence of old pain and doubts, staring hard at the expressionless man who had caused it all.

Except...the Undertaker wasn't so expressionless now. In fact, a small smile had made its way to the Deadman's face, as he reached over and gave Hunter a quick pat on the shoulder.

Just as Hunter had done to him a few weeks ago.

Triple H felt his heart drop as the Undertaker climbed out of the ring.

'God help me, what have I done?'

He had known beforehand what the Deadman had been trying to do...So how the fuck did he fall into his trap?

Now a doubt of a different sort plagued the Game's thoughts as he watched the Undertaker make his way up the ramp. The anger remained—and he knew it would not cool until he had beaten the Undertaker to a bloody pulp for his words—but that old fear had come back as well, and it made Hunter's rage all the more potent, all the more unfocused and violent.

A rage and fear that grew even greater when the Undertaker turned back to look at him, that ghost of a smile still smugly resting on his face.

Whether he wanted it or not, Hunter knew now that he had been conscripted as the Warrior of the Apocalypse. Against everything he wanted, against everything he willed, at Wrestlemania 28, it was going to be the end of an era.

And he, Hunter Hearst Helmsley, was going to be the cause of it all.

This can only end in heartbreak...Even though it's awesome, I have such a bad feeling about this...Will I lose my last two originals? Guess I'll have to wait and see...

Review? :)