"It's been so long." Hunter smiled warmly at Persia as he took a seat across from her, then rested his arms comfortably on the table seperating them.
"Truely." Persia beamed at him and he thought he'd never seen a more beautiful smile. She'd changed a lot since the last time he'd seen her. The Persia Winchester he remembered from high school was addicted to tanning, coloring her hair all sorts of bizarre colors, face piercings and punkrock clubs. She usually hung out with the jocks and was always wanted among the most popular of cliques. Before him sat a completely different Persia. She was no longer smacking gum in his face or wearing neon-green lipstick, but had apparently blossomed into womanhood. Everything from her fashion to her beautiful features had changed for the better. Judging by what he was seeing, Hunter would even admit that she was perfect. Perfect from her high cheekbones and sparkling eyes that reminded him of the ocean, to the hourglass curves of her body that just begged for attention. He almost had a hard time looking at her for fear of getting lost in her sweet gaze. Something about the way she looked him in the eyes was both professional and heart-warming. Looking into those eyes was like walking back down memory lane.
"I've seen you on television quite often." Persia spoke quietly."When I first heard that you wanted to be a wrestler, I didn't expect you to be that good."
Hunter shrugged. "That makes the two of us. But, you know me. I'm not settling for a lower pedestal than I deserve."
Persia nodded and her eyes wandered his physique as if she were just now noticing it. She looked a bit surprised. "Wow. And you've certainly changed a lot. What happened to that skinny, little blonde brat you used to be."
"Oh, the whole bullying thing gets tiring after a while. Too bad it wasn't enough to get even your attention." Hunter laughed.
Persia rolled her eyes playfully and fanned at him with her hand. "My whole crew was bullies-gallore. You were on the bottom of their foodchain, actually." She stated matter-of-factly.
In the distance, Shawn wasn't sure if he'd ever seen Hunter so excited to see someone. Not even his bestfriends had gotten such a reaction from The Game, but at the time, it wasn't something they'd noticed right off the bat. He was silent as he watched the two chat it up by the scary-looking window, curious to know what they were talking about. Too bad he couldn't hear them above the loud rock music playing from the stage to the right of the bar, let alone the distance.
"Where's Hunter?" Chyna returned suddenly, sliding back onto her bar stool after noticing that one of her boys were missing.
When Shawn turned his head to look at her, the first thing he noticed other than the frown on her face, were her bloodshot eyes. She looked a bit tired and he realized that she had been gone for quite a while. "Oh, he's talking with someone." Shawn replied with a few blinks, glancing back at Hunter and his friend, then returning his attention to Chyna. "Are you alright, you were gone for a good minute. Today's lunch didn't get you too bad, did it?" He raised his brows and playfully nudged her.
"I'm fine, Shawn." Chyna wrinkled her nose in disturbance at the thought of lunch. Hunter forced them both to eat his hand-cooked burritos and let's just say she thought she would've had to drink a gallon of Holy Water to get rid of the sickness she felt afterwards. "And who's he talking to? Don't tell me one of our annoying co-workers are here."
"Oh, no. A friend of his from high school just came and I guess they're doing some catching up right now." Shawn informed, checking on them again. They were both laughing with each other like children in a play pen. "She is amazingly hot."
Chyna frowned at him, then looked past him at Hunter's booth halfway across the bar. When she saw how pretty the woman sitting across from him was, he lips tightened and her eyes narrowed slightly. "What's her name?" She asked.
Shawn just stared at her for a moment, recognizing that slight hint of jealousy in her voice. "He didn't tell me her name, but I'm sure you can go over and ask." He shrugged with a smug grin. He couldn't tell if he'd told her that because he felt like instigating or just wanted to see Chyna's estrigen awaken that night.
Hunter's eyes just momentarily wandered back to the bar where he spotted Shawn and Chyna watching him, Chyna wearing a suspicious glare on her face as he would have expected. He cleared his throat and tried to wipe away some of his oddly-enormous smile before returning his attention to Persia. She hadn't even noticed. "So," He shifted in his seat. "How are things going for you? What are you into now?"
"Oh, I'm a psychiatrist." Persia nodded once, tilting her head. "Which I'm pretty sure the majority of you wrestlers need more than the steroids."
Hunter laughed. "I agree. But not everyone's gonna admit that. How's the job going for you, anyway? I could've sworn you wanted to be a Hollywood actress when you were younger."
"Right. And what were the chances of that dream actually coming true?" She cocked an eyebrow at him. "Not that I don't have the talent."
"Maybe you should perform a show for me sometime." Hunter suggested humorously. "And no...that wasn't an invitation to my place."
"Oh, I wouldn't mind." Pinning a lock of hair behind her ear. "I could use someone to hang out with and show me around while I'm down here anyway."
"This your vacation?"
"No. Actually I'm here on business."
"Oh?" Hunter raised his brows as if impressed. "What kinda business? Or am I digging too deep?"
"Um..."Persia paused, looking down for a second. Hunter noticed how her expression faded slightly and straightened in his seat, hoping he hadn't offended her or made her feel like he was just another snooper. "It's alright, actually." She cleared her throat and looked back up at him, laying her hands on her lap. She was no longer smiling. "Now that you've asked, you might be able to help me with something."
Hunter frowned and before he could ask, she dug into her purse and pulled out the same picture she'd showed the guy who was previously talking to her. Fiddling with it in her hand for a moment, she looked Hunter in the eye and the aura around them grew serious in that instant.
"Is everything alright?" Hunter intrigued, frowning with concern.
Persia slid the picture across the table gently and allowed him to take it from her, his eyes slightly narrowing when he lifted it and observed what was on it. The picture was rather interesting. A bright light shinning on a white wall, perhaps from the camera the picture had been taken with, and upon the white wall was an image drawn in red ink. It was a large pyramid, each line and angle perfectly straight as if created by a professional artist. On the inside of the pyramid was a large eye that seemed to bore a hole in Hunter's skull just from looking into it. And drawn just a centimeter away from the points of the pyramid were strange symbols and markings one would find in a book of witchcraft. Hunter stared at the picture a moment longer and as he observed more detail, he realized that the symbol had been drawn in blood, not ink, and that streams of the blood were running down the wall from the sides and bottom of the symbol. "So-"
"It's some kind of cult symbol. A friend of mine back in New York told me it belonged to a Satanic cult somewhere in Texas."
"Um, I didn't know you were interested in this kinda stuff." Hunter said wearily, laying the picture back down on the table. "Where'd you take this anyway?"
"My house." Persia answered a bit hesitantly and with a flat tone.
Hunter lifted his eyes in time to see her eyeing him austerely. She'd grown even more serious. "I don't get it. Is someone after you?"
"No, Hunter. Allow me to explain. Two weeks ago, my house was broken into while I was at my office with a patient. I didn't find out until I came home that night and found the wreckage myself. I was about to call the police when I noticed a trail of blood leading to the bathroom. Come to find out there was a corpse in my bathtub, neck-deep in its own blood." She paused to take a breath.
Hunter leaned forward. "You don't have to go any further with the story if you don't want. But I can help you however I can as long as my work schedule allows it. Just tell me what it is you need me to do."
Persia swallowed and she was back to the all-business disposition. "I'm fine." She held up her hand. "I eventually called the cops who came rather late and after they searched the house for days, they reported to me that they couldn't find any clues as to who had broken into my house and left the wreckage and the dead body. I thought it was impossible for the culprit to be untraceable so I decided to investigate for myself. One of the crime scene investigators left a manila folder in the living room while he went to discuss something with one of his team members. I went in the folder and found that picture. Decided to keep it and use to help me find out who had done the crime. A friend of mine who I showed it to told me that it was a symbol of a dangerous cult here in Texas. So that's why I'm here to find that cult."
"Geez. Why would a cult raid your house and then drop off a dead body to make matters worse for you?"
"They didn't drop it off..."Persia lowered her voice and her eyes were cast downward again.
Hunter stared at her, frowning curiously. They were both silent for a moment, before Persia looked outside of the window and stated almost in a pained whisper, "The reason why I want to find out who these Satanic bastards are is because...that corpse I found...was my father."
...
"Alright, so maybe I'm a bit off with my accusations." Edge stated with a shrug, his tone hinting aggravation.
Christian slanted his eyes toward him, clutching the golden locket in his hand as he stood below the parlor's doorway. "No time for another argument. Taker needs to see this before he orders the Acolytes to hang Kane by his bloody intestines." He gestured for Edge and Gangrel to come with him out into the hallway where the Minister of Darkness had been just minutes ago.
Just as the rest of the Brood exited the room behind Christian, Viscera and Mideon were making their way back from Paul's bed chamber, wearing looks of disdain on their faces. Both men had several bloodstains running down their leather clothing from Paul's body, which upon seeing the stains, Christian's nose wrinkled in both disgust and anxiety.
"Found anything interesting?" Viscera asked, raising his brows as he halted before the Brood.
"No, not really. Just some locket." Edge answered with a huff of impatient breath, folding his arms as he also halted before the giant Viscera, looking him up and down to examine the filth he'd acquired on his clothing.
"A locket?" Mideon inquired next, frowning slightly.
"It's right here if you want to see." Christian stated, handing the shimmering, golden object in Mideon's direction, but before the obviously curious man could even touch it with his fingertips, he was suddenly shoved aside by a massive arm covered in black art. Viscera glanced down just in time to see the Deadman gliding between him and Mideon, immediately moving himself to avoid forceful contact or a deathly scowl.
The sudden appearance of The Undertaker caused silence among the gathering and Christian swallowed as his massive hand confiscated the locket before he could even register what had happened. By now, he thought he would have been used to Taker's silent movement and appearances, but apparently it was just too inhuman for his understanding.
"Where did you find this?" His deep voice rumbled lowly as he cast his acid green eyes down upon the locket, examining it closely.
"I found it while I was digging around the pieces of the casket you threw, Taker sir." Christian answered, lowering his voice as well. "We figured it was a clue as to who our culprit is here."
Taker flipped the glistening object over in his palm, then clicked it open with his thumb, furrowing his brows when he saw the picture on the inside. It was silent again. All eyes watched as the Minister studied...and studied...and studied...until they all noticed that he seemed dazed. Lost in thought perhaps.
...
"Freeze, boy!" The deep, commanding voice rang throughout the lobby of the funeral home as a suddenly frozen redheaded boy stood beside the receptionist's desk, his eyes wide. Heavy footsteps were heard as a man standing nearly seven feet tall approached slowly, dressed in a white button-up with a pair of dirt-stained jeans. His dark hair sat unruly upon his large head and his skin was slick with sweat, evidence of his previous activity digging graves several miles from the funeral home. The young, redheaded boy glanced up into the piercing, dark eyes of the tall man, a dry lump forming in his throat as the man got a powerful grip on his wrist. His small hand had been closed until the man gave a slight squeeze and his pale fingers came right open. The man made a quiet tsking sound as he glanced down at what the boy had been holding in his hand, a small, shinning locket with a silvery exterior. It was empty except for a tiny scratch on the inside where a picture should have been.
"Where'd ya get this, boy?" The man asked the boy, giving him a hard look. "You still stealin' from the school kids?"
The redhead quickly shook his head. "No, Dad. I found it myself."
"Where?"
"The graveyard? It was hanging from the old gate waitin' for birds to come snatch it so I snatched it before them crows could, Dad."
"Then you ain't no better than the birds, little one." The tall man chuckled, now crouching down to the boy's height. "Tell ya what, how's about you take that thing to town and see if you can sell it for some of those shiny, gold dollar coins ya like."
The redhead gasped. "But, Dad, I don't wanna sell it. I wanna keep it. I ain't never seen nothin' like it."
"Boy, that thing's for women. You ain't gonna wear a damn locket 'round that neck of yours."
"Yes I am! I found it, so it's mine!"
"No it ain't. Someone left it behind. If you were a good boy, you'd go find out who it really belongs to."
"But what about sellin' it, Dad?"
"Don't ask me foolish questions, now get!" With that, the man rose to his full height and gave his son a light shove on the back toward the front door where he'd just raced in from. In obedience, the boy hurried outside, but only to find his favorite spot beneath a dying willow. He sat beneath the eerie branches of the willow, clutching the locket in hand, admiring the way the gray daylight glinted off its silver surface.
...
Taker blinked once, his eyes lifting up from the locket as if he'd just come out of a dream. His minions were still in silence around him, curious of his sudden phasing out. "You'll have your reward soon, Christian." He spoke atlast, hearing breaths of relief. "When Faarooq and Bradshaw bring Kane here, I want him sealed up so tight in that damn dungeon he won't be able to move his eyeballs. Am I understood?"
"Yes, sir." All four men answered in response and scattered.
All except for Christian who waited by to speak with his leader. "Taker?"
"What is it?" Taker answered as he turned to leave, still turning the locket over in his hand, pondering.
"What exactly are you going to do with that? I mean, maybe if I help you out, you can figure out who those people are in the picture much faster than you would by yourself."
Taker stopped midstride to look back at him, his eyes cold and piercing. "Boy, you haven't seen all I can do. I suggest you be ready when Kane gets here. If anything happens because the others were a man short, I'll have your ass faster than you can scream."
Christian nodded nervously and began backing away, watching as Taker continued.