The Undertaker stood still and watched with hidden pleasure as his unconscious monster of a younger brother was being shackled securely to the wall of a cold dungeon cell that smelled an awful lot like blood, sweat, and death. Surrounding the Big Red Machine performing the dirty work, were Faarooq, Bradshaw, Mideon and Viscera, all hands busy with chains and shackles, making sure the dangerous creature had no chance of escape. They were finished within a few minutes, backing away from the motionless giant to give Taker room to observe.
"Can I ask you something?" Bradshaw spoke up, bending over to catch his breath as if he'd run several laps with Kane strapped to his back. "Why are you both so damn big and so damn heavy?"
Taker's eyes narrowed to slits as he glanced at Bradshaw, his expression completely unamused and everyone could tell that he was deciding whether or not he would beat the hell right out of Bradshaw for asking such a pointless question. "Maybe you should ask Kane when he wakes up." He replied in a low, venomous tone.
"But he don't talk." Bradshaw looked confused,
"Exactly." Taker cut his eyes at him, then looked back at Kane, walking closer to the helpless body bound to the cold, blood-stained wall. "I'll need someone to watch over him until sunrise."
"I'll do it, sir." Viscera respectively volunteered.
"Alright." Taker turned on his heel to face the members of his Ministry. "Now just because Kane is here does not mean we've gotten to the bottom of this. There's still a chance that he's actually innocent right now."
"Seriously?" Edge whined from behind the group. "What did you do? Consult the almighty golden locket?"
Anger instantly flashed across Taker's eyes as he took hardly three full steps forward and was in front of Edge faster than the younger man could even register, one massive hand wrapped around the blonde's throat. Taker's acid green eyes pierced his with venom as he towered over the blonde, a threatening snarl exposing his teeth. "Mock me again and I'll crush your fucking throat with my bare hand, boy." He growled loudly. "I hate smart-mouthed, whiny bitches. They make me angry and you already know what it's like when I'm angry." He moved even closer and Edge could literally hear Taker growling in his throat like some kind of animal. He tried to swallow but the grip around his throat was so powerful, it went nowhere. "Now..." Taker atlast released Edge, causing him to suck in a sharp gasp of air. It was as if he had seen his life flashing before his eyes. "As for the rest of you...be prepared to raise hell tomorrow. We'll be searching for suspects among the World Wrestling Federation. If we must take drastic measures to find Paul's attacker, then so be it."
He then shoved past the panting Edge and made his way out of the dungeon. The others turned and followed like puppies following their bitch, but he wasn't aware of their footsteps, for his mind was too busy. He walked steadily but with slightly slumped forward shoulders to show how tired he was. It'd been two days since Paul Bearer's attack and he hadn't slept since then; didn't plan on sleeping either. He ventured around the manor until the others were no longer behind him; they'd retreated to their own rooms and what not. It was silent...finally.
Within a moment, he found Paul's room and gently pushed open the tall, mahogany door, the dim light from the hallway pouring into the dark room. Across from where he stood, the motionless rotund form lay face-up on a large bed placed next to a curtained window. Paul's eyes were still closed, but Taker could still sense the small fraction of life within him. He seemed to glide across the room as he approached him, peering down upon his conscience.
As he could recall, it wasn't that long ago that this man was once a vibrant, wayward soul who was intent on controlling The Undertaker like a pet hell hound. They'd been through it all, it seemed, leaping back and forth between hating each other, to protecting each other, to betraying each other and then ending up living in the same house. Taker took a deep breath as those memories only stirred more anger in him than was already existent, causing his hands to ball into fists.
"Fucking bastard." He muttered low under his breath, the sound more like a growl than an actual voice. "I told you the only one allowed to kick your ass like this is me." He watched Paul a minute longer and then decided to get ready for the upcoming day. He turned slowly on his heel, his robe swaying with him, and in that instant, something dawned on him and had dawned on him so hard it caused his entire body to go stiff. His lips hung slightly agape and his eyes widened a bit as he now found himself staring straight ahead. The sudden realization nearly tightened his chest to the point of barely being able to breath and hardly two seconds later, his lips twisted into a vicious snarl. As he had recalled all the memories him and Paul shared, he had thought of the very object that was Paul's only weapon against the Deadman's wrath that also acted as a conduit of his power. And with one full sweep of the room, he realized that that object was not in its place; nowhere to be seen, infact.
Growling, Taker stormed out of the room, not bothering to close the door behind him or he probably would have broken it from its hinges. His booted feet fell heavily upon the floor as he tore through the hallway, down a flight of steps, and reached his destination which was the parlor all in a matter of seconds. His palm struck the parlor door hard, causing a loud banging noise as it flew open, once again revealing the muddle to his angry, acid green eyes. He continued, entering briskly, maneuvering all about the room, grabbing furniture that'd already been overturned and tossing them here and there in search of something very important. He checked the fireplace, the vents on the bottom of the wall, even the shattered casket, only to discover that it really was nowhere to be found.
His breaths could be heard hissing from his nostrils as he rested his hands on his hips and paced the room frustratedly. His mind was hardly able to grasp the fact that he'd lost the only two things he actually cared about and one of them just happened to be the golden prison where the wayward souls of his many victims were kept. The sacred urn...
…...
The very next night, Raw Is War was alive with noise and chatter, not to mention alarm backstage when Hunter Hearst Helmsley found out that Stephanie McMahon was paying a visit. He paced his locker room, accompanied by Shawn, Chyna and a rather coy Persia Winchester who were all seated on a long, leather sofa, watching the man in trunks blatently talk to him.
"So explain to me why exactly she's here again?" Chyna asked, more like demanded with a look of disgust on her face.
"I don't know." Hunter answered frantically. "I didn't get a call or anything."
"No. Not Stephanie." Chyna corrected, then her gaze flickered harshly toward Persia who was sitting right next to her. "I meant her."
Persia fired a dirty glare at Chyna while keeping a professional demeanor. "For your information, I'm a friend of Hunter's and I'm here for business and business only." She retorted with hidden venom in her tone.
"Chyna, will you relax? We have more important things to worry about right now." Hunter pointed at her like he was commanding his little lap dog to heel. "Stephanie McMahon is in this building and I don't even know what to do or say about it. Why? Because its a trap."
"I don't get it." Shawn frowned, standing.
"Vince must've wanted his little princess to come here just to see how I would react. This is all to give him a reason to attack us even more than he already has. I can feel it. The very second he catches me even looking in her direction..." He paused both his talking and pacing. "But I can't just...ignore her. She'll think what we had was just a one-night stand...and it wasn't."
"Hunter...don't tell me you..."
Hunter glanced at Shawn and after a moment of silence, he said quietly, "I think I fell in love with her that night, Shawn."
Chyna's expression went blank when she heard those words, her lips feeling as though they'd been glued together.
"Damn...then this really is a trap." Shawn sighed, shaking his head. "I have an idea though. There's no cameras in the locker rooms unless the camera crew decides to barge in here which I'm pretty sure they won't be doing tonight. So if we can get Steph to come in here without being seen then you two can talk or whatever ya wanna do."
"Are we forgetting the cameras in the hallway?" Hunter's tone was a bit harsh.
"Oh, well fuck me!" Shawn exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air. "Go ahead and shoot me down for trying to help out your ass!"
Hunter shook his head and sighed. "I'm sorry, Shawn." He lowered his voice. "I'm just a little on edge here."
Persia cleared her throat softly. "May I ask who this Stephanie McMahon is?"
"Our boss' daughter." Chyna replied flatly. "This jackhole over here fucked her brains out in some hotel. And now he's paying for it."
"Chyna!" Hunter shot her a warning glare.
"If she really was your friend, she would've known already." Chyna growled.
Silence followed as Hunter and Chyna glared each other down, Persia and Shawn only exchanging glances in uncertainty as the moment grew awkward. Thankfully, before the two could leap and attack each other, Hunter's cell started ringing in his gym bag. He walked over to his locker to retrieve, not taking his eyes away from Chyna until he pulled the phone out of the bag and answered it. "Hello?"
"Hey, is this Hunter?" Came a female voice in response.
Hunter's reaction let the others in the room know just who the woman was. "Uh, Stephanie." He nearly choked on air, playing it off with a short laugh. "Yes this is Hunter."
"Oh, thank goodness. You'll never believe what's going on right now." She sounded rather irritated.
"What is it?"
"I've heard rumors that the Ministry is returning tonight so the whole damn roster's going nuts about it."
Hunter's eyes widened when he heard those words. "Shit." He replied.
"Exactly." Stephanie sighed softly. "And knowing what happened last time I ran into those evil bastards, my dad's trying to convince me to stay in his office while he figures out if the news it true. He heard about it as soon as I got here."
"Are you in his office now?" Hunter raised his brows.
"No."
"What?" Hunter nearly lost his mind, but fought to keep calm. "Stephanie, listen to me, you need to go to his office right now and stay there. I wouldn't want you getting kidnapped again."
"I actually had some place better in mind." It sounded like she was a bit excited. And just as soon as those words registered in Hunter's mind, a soft rapping sounded against the locker room door. All head's immediately snapped in its direction, just as it gently creaked open, revealing a smiling, brown-haired beauty standing in the doorway.
The phone slipped from Hunter's hand when he saw her and he immediately began making his way toward her. The brown-haired woman did the same, clicking her phone shut before entering the room, her heels tapping loudly against the tiled floor. The very second they came within each other's proximity, she just about threw herself into him, slamming her lips into his with no given warning. Hunter's eyes went wide in response to her sudden action, but he didn't hesitate to return the favor, his arms almost immediately circling around to her waist to hold her tightly against him as his mouth nearly devoured hers. It seemed he hadn't felt this in a complete century, which was probably why he was getting so caught up in what was happening. Without even thinking about what he was doing, he lifted her off the floor and soon felt her legs straddle his waist. His arms tightened around her as his tongue just so happened to slithered from his own mouth directly into hers and she welcomed it with her own tongue.
"Wow..." Was all Shawn could find himself saying as he stared in awe at the two, along with Persia and Chyna who were practically speechless. "Umm...so...you guys wanna go grab a soda from the vending machine?"
Persia only nodded as she rose from the couch and began toward the door, glancing back once at Hunter and the brown-haired woman who had to unmistakingly have been Stephanie. When Shawn noticed that Chyna wasn't moving, he rushed over to her and tugged her up by the hands, giving her a warning look that meant, "It's about to get really fucking hot in here." The three of them left the locker room as quickly as they could just as Hunter slid his hands down Stephanie's back and grabbed a handful of her ass, aroused by the tight-fitting, ruffly black minidress she wore that night.
"Ring them bells, buddy! Yeah, yeah!" Shawn cheered him on from the door, chopping at his crotch several times.
"You fucking idiot." Chyna muttered as she grabbed Shawn by his ponytail and snatched him out of the room, slamming the door shut with a bang. "Where's the damn vending machine, anyway?"
"I don't know." Shawn winced at the pain throbbing across his scalp. "But you can let go of my hair now."
Chyna did as he said, not bothering to apologize as she walked off, her leather, high-heeled boots clip-clopping loudly up the hallway.
Persia leaned toward Shawn while he pulled the scrunchy from his hair and massaged his sore scalp. "Is she always this angry?" She whispered to him.
"No. I think I've seen her smile like...three times." Shawn replied softly. "By the way, Hunter never properly introduced us so um," He held out his hand to shake. "I'm Shawn Michaels, better known as HBK."
"Persia." Persia shook his hand. A sudden crash from inside Hunter's locker room caused her and Shawn to jump, then exchange glances with each other. "I think that's our cue to go find the vending machine." She said in an awkward tone.
"My boy." Shawn chuckled.
…...
Chyna hadn't thought twice about leaving Shawn and Persia behind. She needed some time to herself, some time to get her emotions under control. The images of Hunter and Stephanie eating away at each other's faces still seared through her mind and would probably never leave until the night was done, yet she was surprised with herself at how deeply she'd fallen for Hunter. He was simply a friend when they first met, but as time went by, she saw something more than a friend in him. She saw a strong man, a business man, and a badass. Just about everything he did turned her on more to him, each time he wrestled in the ring, each time he found someone backstage to bully around, each time he made his fans laugh, and especially each time he talked to her.
He weakened her, but her pride never allowed her to show it. And as bold a woman as she was, she just didn't know how to let him know how she felt. Perhaps she was afraid of rejection, especially now that he was head over heels for little Princess McMahon. The very thought of her made Chyna's jaw tighten. In her eyes, Hunter deserved better than Stephanie. But, of course, she would be rather biased.
Chyna sighed deeply as she arrived in a corridor where about two of the ceiling lights were fading out. At the very end of the corridor, stood a flashy Coca Cola vending machine much to her luck. She was actually surprised to have found it so quickly since no one else seemed to know where the hell it was. Approaching it, she looked it up and down with a scowl on her face. She needed more than a Coke; what she really needed was a Tequila or two. Lifting her hands, she searched her dominatrix-like ring attire for any change which she usually kept in her bra and when she realized she'd found none, she swore in aggravation. "That's just fantastic." She huffed, shaking her head and placing her hand on her hips. For a moment, she continued to stare at the machine, thinking of something to do about her current dilemma, then a thought dawned on her. Not a good thought, of course, but nonetheless, she'd be satisfied in the end. Looking down at the outlet at the bottom of the machine, an eyebrow arched mischievously and she slowly looked over both her shoulders to see if anyone was around. Lucky for her, she was alone.
She squatted down quickly and stuck her hand in the vending hole, reaching straight up toward to the bottom row of sodas. Her fingers brushed against several wires, steel rungs and other unknown mechanisms that could've torn her leather gloves. She was especially careful not to get her hand caught in something and then end up being stuck there for the rest of the night. Biting her bottom lip, she pushed her hand further inside and could've sworn she'd felt a cylindrical object. "Yes." She quietly rejoiced, discovering that she had her fingers on a cold can of Coke.
She was just about to reach higher inside the machine when all of a sudden, she heard a noise behind her and instantly froze, the mischievous look fading from her face. It sounded like footsteps at first, but when the sound played over in her head, it sounded more like a low chuckle. "Shit." She whispered and gave her arm a yank, only to discover that it hadn't moved. Staring at the vending hole in shock, she pulled her arm back again. Same results. Fuck, I'm stuck! She began yanking and jerking her arm back violently, causing the entire machine to shake with threats of falling over on her. As she did so, she saw something move as quick as a blink through her peripheral vision, startling her. Her head whipped around to follow it, but to her unease, she saw nothing. As far as she could see, she was alone.
After having frozen again, the hairs on the back of her neck began to stand and the air around her grew strange and eerie. Her breath could not help but quicken with the chilling feeling that ran up and down her spine. Her nerves were screaming at her, warning her from each quivering inch of her body. It was like being somewhere haunted, knowing that something was there, perhaps watching, but not being able to see it. She swallowed as she continued to look over her shoulders, realizing that she could do nothing on her knees with just about her entire arm stuck inside a vending machine.
"Okay, Chyna, just calm down. You're only acting paranoid." She told herself over and over, closing her eyes as she tried to settle her nerves. Seconds passed in complete silence. It seemed that all strange activity -the noises and moving dark masses- had ceased in response to her words. When she opened her eyes, the first thing she saw was her arm in the vending machine, but that was not all. Her heart immediately began to race and her breath stopped dead in her throat as she noticed a tall, hulking shadow displayed on the front of the vending machine. Fuck, was all she could say to herself before the shadow suddenly moved downward.
A large, heavy hand clamped down over her mouth, stopping her from screaming as another hand grabbed her by the hair and tugged her head back harshly, causing pain in her neck. Her eyes grew incredibly wide as she tried to squirm and roll over to see who the shadow was, only to have her body violently snatched backwards and her arm popped right out of the vending machine. She heard something snap and almost immediately, excruciating pain followed all throughout her arm. The hulking mass lifted her by her hair, keeping one hand over her mouth as it then jetted forward, nearly knocking the wind out of Chyna as it sandwiched her between itself and the vending machine.
Please, don't hurt me. Please, Chyna begged in her mind. And in response it seemed, she felt something cold and soft press against her ear and a chilling, dark whisper, "I'm back..."
…...
"Where the hell did that damned woman go?" Shawn swore frustratedly, turning in circles as he looked around for Chyna. All he could see were a couple of workers, security gaurds, and others walking about, but no sign of Chyna. "Has she found the damned vending machine yet?"
"Hey, Shawn." Persia spoke up to get his attention. "I'm gonna go to the ladies room right quick. If you find the vending machine, you don't have to get me anything."
"Take your time." Shawn answered, his head still turning left and right.
Persia left him there and exited the wide open concrete area, entering a brightly-lit hallway where she was hoping she would find a women's restroom. Two burly men in tight, leather trunks passed by her coming from the other direction, both of them unable to look away from her as mischievous grins appeared on their faces. They laughed quietly with each other as Persia walked by them as if they weren't even there, ignoring their hungry gazes. Pfft...men.
After walking almost to the end of the hallway, she finally found the restroom, pushing open the door with ease. She was a bit startled when she saw another woman standing infront of a mirror, painting her already rosy red lips. The woman stopped to look at her once she heard the door open, her long, having turned her head so fast, her long, straightened blonde hair nearly whipped her across the face.
"Oh, I'm sorry. I hope I didn't startle you too much." Persia smiled politely, pushing her purse strap higher onto her shoulder as she began walking toward a stall.
"Not at all." The woman replied flatly, not bothering to return the smile. "Who are you? A new women's division wrestler or something?"
"Oh, no. Not at all. My name's Persia Winchester. I'm actually here with a friend of mine. You might know him."
"Who's that?"
"Oh, Hunter."
The woman looked Persia up and down and nodded, going back to her current activity in the mirror. "Yeah, I know him." She said, batting her lashes at her own reflection. "I hear he's in some serious trouble with the boss, too."
Persia stopped outside of the stall and looked over her shoulder at the blonde woman, frowning slightly. She then turned to face her after a second or two of staring. "Yeah, um, what exactly have you heard?" She asked, curious.
"Well," The woman puckered her lips in the mirror after she was done painting them, then tucked the lipstick into her brown leather Coach purse. "Someone told me he slept with Vince's daughter, Stephanie, and daddy'o didn't find out until like a month later. Boy was he pissed. Made Hunter fight really big guys like The Big Show, Dwayne, and Val. And you know what else I heard just now?" She made an about face, smiling wickedly at Persia. "I hear she's in this building as we speak. I'm not sure if Vince brought her or not, but I wouldn't want to know what would happen if those two were caught together. The gossip just gets juicier and juicier around here, darling."
"I've noticed." Persia stated softly. "And you look mighty familiar. Have I seen you somewhere before?"
"On television." The woman turned up her lip. "I'm Debra Marshall."
"Oh, you're one of the wrestlers!" Persia exclaimed, raising her eyebrows. That explained her athletically toned body. "I'm sorry. My mind's a little distracted right now or I would've immediately recognized who you were."
"Right." Debra dragged the word on sarcastically. "I'd love to chat, but I got work to do tonight. Ciao." And with that, Debra adjust the tiny skirt of her cream-colored dress suit and headed out of the restroom.
Persia watched as the door swung back and forth after Debra had exited, the sound it made as it beat the air rang loudly in her ears. Louder than it was supposed to. She seemed frozen in that spot, listening to that sound until alas the door stood completely still. It was silent. No. It's too quiet. Almost immediately after, her head snapped away from the door, hair swinging wildly as she looked in the opposite direction like someone else had suddenly appeared out of nowhere, but she was alone. In fact, her eyes beheld nothing but a clean, white wall. She felt something stir inside her and swallowed quickly, her chest beginning to rise and fall outside of its usual, steady beat. The air around her felt as though it were growing thicker and she found it hard to breath through her nose. That stirring feeling began making its way all throughout her body, starting from her stomach and creating light shivers up and down her spine. You're not supposed to be alone. It sounded like someone had whispered from behind her and she instantly spun around, only to discover that no one was there. Oh, no. Here we go again.
She snatched her purse from her shoulder and unzipped the top with swift, shaky fingers, rummaging around inside like a raccoon searching for food. She could hear random objects rattling around, felt makeup kits, her wallet, her cellphone, etc. brush against her busy hand. Her breathing picked up as she searched vigorously, every huff and puff rather audible now and her shoulders were hiked up almost to her ears. Within seconds, she got her hands around a small, white pill bottle and yanked it out of her purse like her life depended on it. When really it was not her life that depended on it...it was her sanity.
Dropping the purse to the floor, she rushed to the mirror, slamming her hands on either side to stop herself from running right through the sink below it. When she looked at her reflection, she saw a pair of bloodshot eyes staring back at her from within deep, black pits. The skin of her face looked ghastly like something dead and her features seemed different, glossy from the sweat that was beginning to break out on her flesh. She could feel it coming back. Faster than ever before.
She popped the cap off the bottle and turned it over into her hand, dumping four small, white pills into her palm. Taking a deep breath, she stuffed the pills into her mouth, wincing as she forced herself to swallow each one down her dried throat. They went down slowly with no water to assist them to their destination, causing Persia to gag a bit, but there had been no time to find water anyway.
About five seconds had gone by and Persia stood with her hands rested on either side of the sink, long dark hair curtaining around her downcast face. She could feel her breath steadying again, felt the chills die down from her spine. A sense of calm washed over her, but along with it came a feeling of shame. She was ashamed of her current actions, but moreso ashamed of the very thing that caused those actions.
There was a dark secret she kept deep within her heart that no one would ever discover even from getting to know her. A secret that could only be kept with medical help. And if someone had walked into the bathroom within that moment, that secret would have been revealed. Even Hunter could never know that she was suppressing symptoms of mental insanity which was especially triggered when she was alone and in complete silence. It had all begun after the death of her mother because she was killed when she was alone...and the murder was completely silent. That sense of vulnerability instantly tricked her mind and body into believing that she would be killed by something inhuman in that instant, much worse than an average case of paranoia. Or perhaps it was something telling her that whenever she was alone, something was always there...
All too suddenly, a shrill cry pierced the silence from outside the restroom and Persia instantly lifted her head to glance toward the restroom door. "Debra?" She called, bolting toward the door in her heels. "Debra!"