Persia's fist came down on the alarm clock just two seconds after its high-pitched beeping exploded in her eardrum. With a groan, she rolled over onto her side, her eyes fluttering open only to be assaulted by the sunlight streaming through the floor-to-ceiling window near the bed. It was 7:30 a.m., which was quite late in the morning compared to her usual awakening. She tossed her legs out of bed and groggily stood, making her way to the bathroom. Cool air caressed her skin from the vent located above her as she stood before the bathroom sink and looked at herself in the mirror. Her eyes were dark and droopy, her hair hung in messy strands all around her head, and her skin looked flushed and uneven. It was evident that she was not a morning person.

She closed her eyes and leaned forward slightly, resting her forehead against the mirror to relieve the heaviness of her eyelids. A soft sigh left her lips.

The Lord of Darkness calls out to you.

The whisper had been heard so suddenly and so clearly it was as if someone else were in the bathroom with her. Persia jumped with a start, her head turning frantically in search of the source. She was alone, but now she felt as if someone else were there. Watching her from an unknown shadow perhaps. Swallowing, Persia reached for the shower curtain and yanked it back, revealing an empty tub. Was she going crazy? "No, no I'm not crazy." She said aloud to herself.

No...you're just insane. The eerie whisper returned, causing Persia's heart to turn over in her chest.

"Where are you?" Persia shouted, storming out of the bathroom. She looked frantically around the bedroom and still saw no one.

You will never find me with your own effort. I am in a place where the night is eternal.

Persia grabbed either side of her head and shook it violently, trying to knock herself awake. Maybe she was still half asleep and suffering her morning crazies. Or perhaps she was still stuck in her dream and at any moment, a Cheshire cat would appear out of midair and lead her to Wonderland. But to her dismay, when she shut her eyes tight and reopened them, she was indeed standing in her reality.

This voice was different from the ones she'd ever heard before. There were several that spoke to her during her moments of mental breakdown, but this one was much more alarming and carried a baratone hiss to it like the serpent that tempted Eve. She'd never been so frightened by a voice in her mind.

"Who are you?" She asked aloud, still looking around, but less frantically. She knew she had to calm herself down and in order to do this, she took several deep breaths while standing still, trying to relax her nerves.

Come to me...and you will know who I am...

…...

The plan was perfect. Hunter Hearst Helmsley's life was about to become a living hell thanks to the devious mastermind, Vincent Kennedy McMahon who stood several feet away from a large structure before him. The structure rose exactly 20 feet high and was about 18 feet in width, made entirely of steal with a design that could tear one's flesh. It was a newly refurbished Hell in a Cell cage, standing in the process of construction by the hands of gifted, hard-working men in hardhats. The way the lights in the empty arena glinted off the steel surface of the cell was beautiful in Vince's eyes.

As he stood and watched the Satanic structure come together, a man much younger than himself, dressed in a fine light gray suit approached him, hands clasped infront of him in a business-like manner. "So explain to me exactly what you have planned for this thing?" The younger man asked.

Vince turned to look at his son, an evil grin upon his features. "I plan on punishing the man who violated your sister." He replied calmly. "Triple H thought our little feud was over when I sentenced him and Shawn Michaels to a match with The Rock and Mankind. But the two-by-fours weren't enough, obviously. Someone came back and told me they saw Stephanie walk into his locker room. That really pissed me off, Shane. So you know what I'm going to do? I'm going to keep punishing him until he realizes he doesn't deserve a woman who can bring him so much trial and pain."

"Dad, you're one sick bastard." Shane shook his head slowly, looking his father in the eyes. "Now, we both know I hate the guy too, but in my opinion, it isn't up to us to decide who Stephanie really wants. I mean, we all know she's crazy about him and he's crazy about her. If you keep hurting Hunter, eventually you'll be hurting Steph too."

"Who's side are you on, hanh?" Vince frowned. He instructed Shane to walk with him before placing his arm around the younger man's shoulder, escorting him away from the huge cell surrounding the wrestling ring. The sounds of drills, hammers, and other working tools echoed loudly throughout the empty arena almost as if they were redoing the arena itself. On the way up the ramp, Vince took in a deep breath and released it with a good feeling in his broad chest. "Let me explain something to you, son. My family is like treasure to me. You, Stephanie, and Linda. And when that treasure gets tarnished by filthy-handed, obnoxious pirates like Hunter Hearst Helmsley, I tend to get very angry. And people don't like me when I'm angry. I believe I have every right to hurt this man as I please, seeing as though I am his boss and whatever the hell I say goes on my watch."

Shane shrugged. "I guess, Dad. But look at it through Stephanie's eyes. How would she feel if Hunter actually revealed to her everything you've been doing to him?"

"Look at me, Shane." Vince's tone hardened as he stopped and turned Shane's shoulders to face him. "Look at this face." His index finger was now pointed to his chin, eyebrows raised in a questioning fashion. "Does it look like I give a fuck?"

Shane sighed. "Alright, Dad. You're the boss and whatever you say goes on your watch." Shane drawled, not wanting to argue.

Vince simply smiled and patted him on the shoulder. "You're the best son a father could have." He chuckled, continuing with him up the ramp. Shane rolled his eyes on response, realizing exactly why he hated being with Vince on the job. His ego was the most annoying characteristic he possessed, no doubt. They continued to walk until they were backstage where the lights were a bit dim and other workers walked about, making sure things were set for that night's show.

"I chose the cell because I know Hunter hate's it more than any other wrestler on the roster." Vince continued, adjusting his suit jacket.

"And why is that?" Shane couldn't help but ask, thinking it was impossible for one wrestler to hate the cage more than another.

"I've heard people tell me how weak it makes him. He's like a vicious animal and the realization that he's contained drives him insane. It's almost like claustrophobia, but only with cages. You should see the looks on his face everytime he steps into one of those damned things. He always looks like he's about to shit himself."

"What if its seriously a medical condition?" Shane asked concernedly which in turn, made Vince frown at him once again. But then he chuckled from the inside.

"That makes things even better. It's bad enough I'm putting him against the only man who calls the cell his tailor-made environment. Wait, no. It's good enough." Vince chuckled again.

"Who is that?" Shane asked. But Vince didn't answer. By the time the question came out, the air about them changed suddenly, growing cold and oddly uncomfortable to Shane. A strange feeling hit the pit of his stomach like he had just walked into a haunted house. With the lights being dim in the backstage area, it was hard for Shane to play off the sudden edge in his nerves and his brows furrowed curiously, wondering what was happening. When he glanced at his father, Vince's eyes were focused forward and the look he wore on his face was of pride and accomplishment. However, what he noticed the most was the shadow that'd suddenly fallen over them both. Tall, broad, and overall intimidating. Shane's head slowly returned to its forward position and when he saw who had approached them, all he could do was swallow. All further questions immediately left his mind and he could feel the blood draining from his face. A pair of cold, acid green eyes immediately met his frightful gaze, boring holes into his soul the moment he recognized the dangerous entity before him.

The Undertaker, Shane thought nervously, not uttering a word or a sound.

"I first decided that this situation needed to be handled with extreme measure when I received detail of everything Hunter did to my daughter that night. I promised my spies I would reward them greatly for their work and also that they would be amongst the thousands to watch my plan of vengeance unfold. I knew Hunter needed a rude awakening from his lovesick spell so I called on the only man who I know can get the job done and teach that son of a bitch a valuable lesson." Vince looked up into the hardened face of The Undertaker, easily hiding his intimidation of the man dressed in all black as usual. "Undertaker, I'm glad you were able to make it here. I know you told me you don't travel the same as everyone else."

The Undertaker continued to stare at him with anger burning in his gaze, hopefully not toward Vince for disturbing him.

"I want you to raise hell in that cell like you've never raised hell before, Taker." Vince said with vicious enthusiasm, his teeth nearly grinding. "Hunter's disrespected you several times in the past. This is your chance to make him your bitch. Right out there in front of thousands of his beloved fans."

The Undertaker stalked closer to Vince, causing Shane to take half a step back instinctively. "I expect something in return for this." He growled down at the two shorter men, his form appearing to grow. "Something that's actually worth my effort."

"Oh, don't worry, Undertaker. As soon as you take care of Hunter, your reward will come swiftly. And I gaurandamntee you won't be disappointed."

"Good. Because you know what I do to people who disappoint me." The statement lingered for a few seconds, the depth of his words still seething from his lips.

"Um, pardon me for breaking into this little chat." Shane spoke up, swallowing to hide the shakiness of his voice. "But did you bring the rest of the Ministry along?"

The way Taker's eyes moved dangerously toward Shane made his heart ache in his chest, but he remained as still as possible, making sure he kept eye contact with the Deadman. "That is none of your concern." He replied huskily. "Right now you and Pops should be focused on decent compensation for putting me in that cell with Triple H."

"Just trust me." Vince smiled, although it was rather hard to do such a thing while looking into the face of death itself. "You can even keep his soul if you like." He added.

Taker returned his attention to Vince when he heard those words. "No need. It's not his soul that I want."

Shane cast a sideways glance toward his father before he felt like his legs would turn into noodles. Leave it to this scary bastard to say some scary shit to scare the fuck out of everybody. Fuck!

It was clear that the conversation was done. The Undertaker passed a glance once more between both men, then left, his massive shoulders bumping them out of his path as he strode between them. They followed him with their eyes, looking warily over their shoulders at the being that had now begun to blend with the few spots of darkness in the backstage area. It had only been a matter of seconds before he vanished, leaving no trace of his appearance as usual. Vince shook his head slowly as he continued to stare off in search of the Deadman. "No one will ever understand how that man does the things he does." He stated quietly, receiving a nod of agreement from Shane.

"And I'll never understand why you trust him." Shane retorted.

"Because I know he's not gonna turn down an offer to beat the living hell out of somebody. I want him to half kill Hunter and I'm goddamn sure that's exactly what that evil son of a bitch's gonna do tonight." Vince explained.

"Will Stephanie be coming again?"

"Probably. But that doesn't matter. Hell, I might even put her in a front row seat."

"Dad...come on, now."

"She deserves to be punished for allowing him to deflower her, anyway. Don't "come on" me!" Vince sounded a bit irritated.

Shane frowned slightly. "As wrong as that sounded, I just don't want Steph to be so hurt she wouldn't be able to look at you the same. You remember what happened last time."

"Hell are you talking about?"

"You remember her high school crush? When the boy finally asked her out and they made out under that tree in the front of the school, you were informed by an on-looking teacher. And out of your anger due to the fact that he touched your precious little princess, you took the boy and buried him alive in our backyard. As far as Stephanie knows, he drowned in a damn lake. She went missing for days trying to find that boy, Dad."

"Yeah. Well, she's not as foolish over men as she used to be. I know that much. If she hadn't learned her lesson then, she'll learn it now."

…...

Foolish girl, The Undertaker thought as he listened to Vince and Shane. He stood against the wall in a dark hallway, not too far from where the two McMahons talked, arms folded across his chest. Only half of the hallway was lit, not surprisingly, the side he chose not to stand in, which cast light upon only half of his body. One acid green eye seemed to flash dangerously as they stared across the distance at the McMahons. His hatred for them was still strong, and yet he found himself doing Vince's evil bidding. Vince should have been working for him. Asking for no reward in return but to keep his own godforsaken life. That man was more of a pain in the ass than anyone else involved in the World Wrestling Federation, not to mention his arrogant, cowardly son. The bastard hadn't yet experienced the wrath of The Undertaker, but he was sure he would someday. Atleast, when Taker looked into the young man's eyes, he saw fear quite lucidly. In fact, it was written all over him, his face, his body, the way he stood frozen like a statue before the Lord of Darkness. Taker enjoyed giving people those kinds of reactions to him, because he was exactly what they called him – the most evil son of a bitch in Texas.

Taker sighed. Already clad in black pleather, he appeared to be prepared for tonight's kill. But was he really? Or was his mind too focused on his most ultimate goal. That woman. He didn't even know her name, nor did he want to know for certain. All he wanted from her was a confession that she was behind Paul Bearer's attack. As unbelievable as it seemed, anything was possible in the heart of Texas. He figured that perhaps, she had seduced Paul somehow, then initiated her assault. He'd seen women like her during his many years of walking the Underworld as if it were his home. Women who possessed astounding beauty, but were nothing but deceptive, vicious, flesh-eating beasts who smelled like the blood of their prey. Looks are deceiving. I should know, He thought to himself as he lifted one hand to lightly stroke his pointed goatee. After which, that same hand opened before his face, no longer empty, but holding a shimmering, golden object that he had materialized out of thin air.

He stared down at the locket, sighing deeply in order to contain the anger he felt just from touching it. Vengeance was close at hand. Not only could he feel it; he could practically taste it. He could see the blood of that godforsaken woman drenching his hands, bathing in it, lapping at its sharp, metallic flavor. The bitch will pay. No one tampers with the Ministry...and goes unpunished.

…...

The sky had turned from its morning gold to a morbid gray. Persia was sure that rain drops would begin to fall at any moment. The wind blew steadily against her beige trench coat and the black bowler hat she wore over her straightened raven hair. The plaza she decided to visit was rather busy that day, especially with couples of all ages. She actually felt rather alone watching other groups of friends and colleagues pass by, paying absolutely no attention to her. Except, of course, for those men who couldn't help but gaze upon her good looks. Her hands were tucked into her coat pockets as she walked briskly down the sidewalk.

On the way to an expensive shoe store, a shoulder suddenly bumped hers nearly knocking her off balance. She took a few steps back to catch herself and felt anger burst in her before she could think. "Excuse me? Why don't you watch where the hell you're g-" But then she stopped short when she realized just who she'd bumped into.

"Persia?" A female voice greeted her.

"Why, hello, Stephanie." Persia greeted back, forcing herself not to frown. "What a surprise! No seriously."

"I'd say the same myself." Stephanie cocked her head a bit, her eyes squinting in suspicion. "Where ya headed?"

"Nowhere really. I needed to get out in the open air so I decided to take a walk down the plaza. And yourself?"

"Oh, I'm here with Hunter. We decided to do a little winter shopping."

"Sounds fantastic."

"Everything alright? I mean, how are you feeling after everything that went down at the arena?"

Persia almost wrinkled her nose at the insensitivity that stood out so evidently in Stephanie's tone. Hell, you don't have to pretend to care just because your fuck buddy's friend. "I'm fine." She took a deep breath, smiling weakly at the other woman. "I could just use a little peace and time to myself, I guess."

"That's understandable." Stephanie nodded, then moved a bit closer. "Now, don't get me wrong here. I don't mean to scare you or anything but...You'd just better watch your back. Once the Undertaker wants something, he'll stop at nothing to get it. And he uses every source he can get his cold, dead hands on. If you want you can come with me, Hunter, and Shawn to the bar tonight. Just so you won't be alone."

"That would be nice. Thanks." Persia nodded after swallowing softly. "But I actually want to know more about this...Undertaker."

Stephanie looked left and right slowly as if checking to see if anyone was watching. There was an air of paranoia about her that had sprouted the second Persia's statement registered in her mind. In fact, for a second, Persia was concerned that she had said the wrong thing. "Come with me." Stephanie said softly and walked past Persia, gesturing for her to follow. Persia did just that, looking over her shoulder quickly to be sure no one had been watching them. For some reason, ever since the past night, she felt as if a pair of eyes were watching her every move, never leaving her, making her awfully uncomfortable everywhere she went. Several times she had to tell herself that she was just crazy, but that was hardly working. After all...she really was crazy.

Stephanie walked at a fast pace up the sidewalk, adjusting her Dooney and Burke purse strap on her shoulder. By the time Persia had caught up to her, she'd already started to speak. "They say The Undertaker travels among devils and evil men. He's earned himself a well-known reputation, especially with the people of Death Valley. Anyone who encounters the likes of him is never the same afterwards. Pissing him off is basically like committing suicide and sometimes the things he does to people makes them want to commit suicide."

Persia eyed her frightfully, blinking several times to hide the fear flushing her face. She could see The Undertaker in her mind's eye as Stephanie described him, except this time, surrounded by flames, standing on a hill of tortured, bloody bodies. A man like that was probably worse than the cult she found herself hunting, or perhaps could have been its leader if they were connected to him. With that thought, Persia frowned, feeling as though she were being led on to something.

"He has many names." Stephanie continued, slowing down a bit to look at Persia. "They called him the Weaver of Nightmares, the Chaser of Souls, the Purity of Evil, and a bunch of other stuff. Perfect descriptions of him, too. I've had my own encounters with that man and let me tell you, hunny, that is one evil, psychotic, dangerous mother fucker."

Persia glanced down at the sidewalk, biting her bottom lip in thought. "So who is this Ministry of Darkness again? A cult?"

"Mhm." Stephanie nodded. "They aren't as famous as others, but they're pretty uh...y'know. You just don't wanna mess around with them. I hear a few members actually drink human blood for all three meals. They even have blood rituals for our most treasured holidays."

"How do you know all this?"

"Well, like I said, I've encountered them before and learned some things. The rest of my knowledge comes from others who've witnessed their terror themselves. Several have been left scarred from their antics."

"How powerful are they in Austin?"

"They're so powerful, they don't even have to show their damn faces to make a statement. At least not the faces we all know..."

"What does that mean?"

Stephanie didn't respond. Instead, she stopped at the door of a Starbuck's and peeked inside. "Hey, do you feel like drinking coffee right now? 'Cause, I'm definitely craving some."

"Actually, I need to be heading back to my hotel. I have a bit of work to do."

"Oh, come on. Hunter's not around at the moment. Neither of us want to be alone."

"No, its fine. Maybe tomorrow I'll join you for coffee." Persia once again forced a smile on her face.

Stephanie simply shrugged, not willing to push her any further. She'd just call Hunter and have him meet her at the Starbuck's so she wouldn't be alone there. But she couldn't help but worry about Persia. She didn't even know the woman well, but that didn't stop the fact that her life was in danger and there was perhaps no solution but to run. That, however, seemed never to work in most cases. The victims always ran, but they could never hide.

Persia could tell by the gleam in Stephanie's gaze that she was pondering something, perhaps wondering why she couldn't afford to sit still. It's good to know someone other than Hunter cares, she thought to herself as she continued to smile at her newest friend, assuring her that she would be fine. But in this case, it was harder for actions to speak louder than words.

"Hunter really cares about you." Stephanie stated softly after a moment of silence, her hair fluttering sideways as a light breeze began to pick up. "You know that, right?"

Persia hid a hint of surprise when she heard those words, a bit taken aback at the sudden change of topic. It was evident Stephanie didn't want to let her go so easily. She nodded with a quiet sigh, her eyes lowering for a second.

"That's why he's so willing to protect you. Any other woman besides you or me would be handed right over to the Deadman by now. You're a lucky woman."

"Not luckier than you." Persia interjected calmly and another moment of silence followed before Stephanie stepped a bit closer to her. "Just do me and him a little favor, okay?"

"What's that?" Persia frowned.

Stephanie's expression dropped suddenly into something hardened straight. Persia felt her throat tighten as she looked into her eyes. The woman stood a bit shorter than her so that her eyes were cast downward slightly. "It's been tough for us all. Especially you. I know you have the access, but don't show up to the Raw Is War show tonight."

Persia felt as if she'd been stung by a wasp, but at the same time, she didn't know exactly how to take the favor request. Confusion sat evidently upon her features as she watched Stephanie's eyes for any signs of tension, wondering if any of it had anything to do with her reunion with Hunter. There didn't seem to be any jealousy in her tone, no anger or unkind glaring in her eyes. Hopefully, she had said it out of concern for her safety. Persia didn't respond, whatever the statement meant truthfully, but simply allowed Stephanie to walk away from her and into the Starbuck's. She eyed her until she felt like she would hurl herself through the glass surrounding the shop, blinking away from the spoiled, little princess.

Drawing the collar of her coat up around her neck, she turned away from the Starbuck's and continued up the sidewalk. The walk was no longer the same. It felt awkward and uncomfortable like a million eyes were watching her every move. Or just one pair of eyes. Lurking someplace unseen. She scanned several faces with her timid gaze, trying her hardest not to show that she was growing unnerved by the presence of everyone in the plaza. There were way too many people walking about for her liking and she felt as though it would drive her insane. She found it funny how she didn't feel that way earlier when she first arrived and was on her way to the shoe store. The feeling of unease and discomfort just kind of showed up, so to speak.

You will learn what it means to truly sacrifice yourself for others.

The baritone voice seemed to float with the breeze, right into Persia's ears like a poem. She was just about beyond startled as she halted abruptly and spun around on her heels, her eyes slightly widening as they darted about. Several other pedestrians gave her crazy, concerned stares, but were easily ignored. She searched for several seconds for the source of the voice that had spoken, her heart rate increasing now. Her unease and discomfort grew, expanding through every part of her body, causing even her breathing to change in rhythm. Her skin was slightly warmer despite the cold that was enveloping her body as if she'd stepped into the very valley of death. And as she stared forward at absolutely nothing but endless road, it seemed that something actually appeared to her vision.

Perched upon a lamp post with the calmest, yet most nerve-racking demeanor was a large, black bird and to Persia's surprise, its blood red, glowing eyes were fixed directly on her. It was located almost ten feet away and couldn't have been there before, for Persia could not remember ever noticing it. She felt something stir inside her as she gazed upon this bird and all of its sheer beauty. The way its sleek, black feathers sparkled under the gray daylight caught her attention like a million-dollar painting in an art gallery. They fascinated her, but at the same time, they frightened her. They possessed a hint of something serene, yet something dark. She couldn't look away. The sight of the black bird was simply drawing, pleasant rather. It was as if the bird itself had spoken and now they were sharing silent conversation.

While she seemed lost in the eyes of the bird, she felt her shoulder jerk backwards violently after someone bluntly bumped into her, causing her to take a couple of steps back. She snapped out of it immediately, her face reddening as she turned to face the stranger who was dressed rather blandly in a beige trench coat and black bowler hat. That was all she could see of him besides the long, wavy locks of blonde hair spilling past somewhat broad shoulders. She squinted at him, hoping he would turn his head and see the dirty look she was giving him, but when he did turn to look at her, he simply flashed her a grin and continued on. Persia's eyes widened the moment she glanced down at his lips and saw what was between them. Terribly sharp canines for a human being. She frowned before continuing up the sidewalk. Things got stranger and stranger the longer she stayed in Texas, she noticed.