Chapter 10

It's all about how you play the game, Triple H told himself over and over again in his mind as he heard his renowned theme song split the anticipated silence that had once again settled over the arena. He shut his eyes for a moment, fighting to clear his mind of all negative thoughts because all he could see in his mind was a tombstone with his name on it. A match with the Undertaker...Hell in a Cell. What in the hell was Vince thinking?

"You can do this, Hunter?" Stephanie said from beside him, gently touching his arm. "I'll be watching to see you win."

That made Hunter feel worse. It was like he was under pressure now. Like the destiny of the universe rested in his hand. "Go on back to the locker room, Steph." He replied. "His goons tend do crazy stuff backstage when they're banned from ringside and I don't want you getting caught up in any mess again."

"Of course." Stephanie nodded, kissed him on the cheek, and left to return to the locker room. Usually she would have reported to the Chairman's office, but tonight, she didn't even want to see her father's face. How could he be so evil, she thought to herself, shaking her head with a sigh.

Half of the audience booed while the other have cheered as Triple H walked out onto the steel stage. He didn't bother with the formalities of his entrance, instead his focus was glued onto the enormous cell standing before him down the ramp. If he was crazy, he'd probably be seeing the devil himself ushering him inside the door and a host of his evil imps would be jabbing their flaming pitchforks at him from the turnbuckles. Despite the discomfort churning in the pit of his stomach, Hunter walked down the ramp with his head held high, smacking on his favorite Juicy Fruit bubble gum. Shawn had been banned from ringside, as well, to keep the conditions fair, so they decided to stay with Stephanie instead of walk him down to the ring. It felt strange not being with him and Chyna, but he forced himself to get over it. For Stephanie's sake. But most of all, for Persia, Debra and Chyna's sake.

The referees standing on either side of the cell door and the one standing inside the ring nodded to Hunter as he entered the Satanic metal structure. "I'm sure we don't have to go over regulations with you, Hunter. You already know the deal." One ref said to him.

Hunter fired him a nasty glare. "You just better make sure nobody gets in or out." He responded harshly. He climbed inside the ring while the refs simply shook their heads at him and began to warm himself up, jumping up and down to loosen up the muscles in his legs while throwing small punches in the air to practice striking precision. He lost count of how many prep talks he'd given himself, but at the moment, he knew he certainly needed them.

His theme music went off abruptly and the cheers of the audience slowly minimized. As soon as Hunter realized that the whole place was nearly silent, his attention immediately shot up toward the stage. The moment of truth had come.

Seconds passed and nothing had happened. Heads were beginning to turn in confusion, wondering why there was still silence. Even Hunter started to look around, praying silently that his opponent couldn't make it. But his prayer soon ceased when the lights shut off suddenly and a bell that rang with the melody of death echoed throughout the arena, sending shivers through his spine. He squinted through the thick, inky blackness toward the stage, knowing that soon his opponent would be walking toward him from that area. About thirty seconds passed, however, and no one was there. Hunter frowned.

The cell door suddenly swung shut with a loud clang, the locks fastening before any of the refs could stop them. Hunter's eyes widened in alarm as he looked down and saw the refs trying to pry the door open, but to no avail. "What the hell are you ass hats doing!" He bellowed, nearly panicking.

"We didn't close the door!" One ref shouted.

"Well, look for a damn key!" Hunter shouted back, frowning viciously.

The bell sounded again, the macabre tune lingering in the air to frighten those who had heard. For everyone who knew that sound well, there were all kinds of responses from good to bad to ugly. And not a soul stood unshaken.

Hunter stepped out of the ring and approached the cell door just as the refs began searching their pockets for the key.

"It's gone!" They exclaimed in shock. "Even the spares are gone!"

"What do you mean?" Hunter raised his voice at them again. "If you don't find that damn key, I'm gonna-"

"Woah! Look at that!"

Hunter whirled at the sound of the voice. He didn't even know where it came from, but he regretted hearing it. A split second after he had turned, a hot, sizzling lightning bolt struck the ring mat and exploded so loudly it caused every heart in the arena to flip. Hunter jumped so hard he stumbled back against the cell wall, his hands raised up in front of him to shield his eyes from the blinding light that had stunned him from the explosion. A strong smell of smoke wafted into his nostrils like something had caught on fire and when he lowered his arms to look, all he could see was black smoke hovering inside the ring. So thick he couldn't see through it. He eyed the smoke with an astonished expression, his chest heaving up and down where his heart raced furiously. And as soon as the smoke cleared away, the lights came flashing back on with a pop and Hunter felt a huge lump form in his throat.

As expected, although the extremity of his arrival had been quite unexpected, the Lord of Darkness now stood in the ring and it appeared that the black smoke had begun to take the shape of two large wings behind him. His daunting, acid green eyes instantly found Triple H where the frightened man stood and seemed to bore a hole right through him from the face of death himself, marked by a frighteningly devilish smirk. "Prepare," His deep voice reverberated from the very walls of the cell as he spoke in his most sadistic tone. "To spend an eternity...in Hell."

…...

Persia's heart pounded so hard in her chest she could hear the sound in her ears as her eyes beheld the enormous, demonic entity standing just as bold as sin inside the cell. She didn't realize that she had been holding her breath the whole time until she felt her lungs ache. Her fingers trembled against the arm rests on either side of her and she didn't see Adam smirking in her direction from the seat next to her. She looked like she was seeing a ghost.

"Do you need some fresh air? Water maybe?" He asked her, mischief hidden behind a tone of concern.

"N-no." Persia answered, then swallowed, shaking her head. "I'm fine. Thanks anyway."

"I see you're not a big fan of the Undertaker." Adam stated with a chuckle.

"How can you tell?" Persia sat back in her seat, forcing herself to relax. "Alright, maybe I am just a little thirsty."

"I'll get you something."Adam got up and started making his way toward the aisle.

"No. I can get it myself." Persia quickly grabbed him by his coat.

"Oh, but I insist. Besides, you don't look too well."

After staring at him for a long time and seeing the sincerity in his eyes, Persia decided to let him go, smiling weakly at him. "Well, okay. A Mountain Dew sounds good to me right about now."

Adam returned her smile with one of his own. "No problem, madam." And with that, he left quietly, his gaze lingering on her for a bit.

…...

Hunter forced himself to swallow. It was the only way he could allow air to pass through his throat as he stared back into the eyes of The Undertaker. Slowly but confidently, he climbed his way back into the ring to meet the dead man face to face. He had to let him know that he wasn't afraid of him. I'm not afraid of death, he told himself. I'm not afraid of death. He could hear a deep, dark chuckle coming from the larger man's gullet as he watched him, probably thinking of all the horrifying crimes he could do to him in the match.

"I know you're here for more than just the opportunity to get at me, Deadman." Hunter spoke warningly. "So, I'm gonna let you know right now...you're not gonna get what you want. Not unless you fucking kill me."

"Hmm." Taker tilted his chin up a bit, sizing his opponent up. "That can be arranged."

Growing infuriated at the thought of Taker putting his hands on Persia, Hunter launched a punch at the larger man's face, hoping to fracture a jaw bone or something with the devastating blow. Unfortunately, Taker's reflexes were so fast that night, he simply caught him by the wrist and headbutted him square in the nose. Hunter stumbled back with a grunt, reaching up to clutch his aching nose. It wasn't bleeding. At least not yet, it wasn't. "You son of a bitch." He growled, lunging at Taker, this time with a swift left hook.

Taker lifted his arm and blocked the attack, then jabbed his own fist at Hunter's throat, knocking the wind right out of the man. Hunter coughed loudly as he stumbled backwards, holding his neck with one hand, his eyes wide in shock. He fell against the ropes, struggling to find the ability to breath again. He could see Taker slowly stalking toward him from the corner of his eye. As soon as he got close enough, Hunter kicked out with all his might, feeling the bottom of his boot connect with Taker's rockhard midsection. The large man let out a painful sound as he doubled forward and Hunter took the opportunity to uppercut him in the face. He fell so hard on his back the whole ring shook like an earthquake. But as soon as Hunter went for an elbow drop, Taker rolled out of the way, causing Hunter to land on solid mat instead. He winced as pain shot up his side, maiming him for just a few seconds.

Taker got to his feet. No longer smirking, but snarling like a vampire craving blood. He reached down and grabbed Hunter by the hair, ignoring the ref's remarks about it nearby. He couldn't be disqualified so he couldn't care less. Dragging Hunter to his feet, he harshly Irish-whipped him into the nearest turnbuckle, charged at him like a bull, and slammed all his weight into him. He caught Hunter beneath the arms just as the weakened man had begun to crumble and propped him back up on the corner. Posing as a professional boxer, Taker threw several rights and lefts at Hunter's body, rocking him all over. He'd only taken several before he finally fell face flat on the mat. "I have good news for you, Helmsley." Taker growled, that devilish smirk returning to his features.

Hunter let out a choked cough in response, trying to crawl away from the Deadman.

"You have guests here to watch you suffer the worst ass kicking of your entire existence." He bent down to grab Hunter by his hair once again and force him to his feet. Hunter hardly gave a decent fight as he was dragged all the way to the ropes and tossed out like a sack of dead meat. Taker climbed out after him, grabbed him off the cement floor and forced him against the cell door, pressing his face against the cold steel so that he could see clearly through them. Hunter instinctively looked up the ramp, seeing nothing special there at first, but then movement caught his eye that he soon wished he didn't see. It was Faarooq and Bradshaw, also known as the Acolytes, and to his astonishment, they were each dragging two women by long, silver chains that were fastened to thick, black collars around their necks. Both women were dressed in nothing but latex lingerie like street whores, covered in small cuts and bruises. They were both gagged, their wrists shackled behind their backs and their skin soaked in sweat. It was no doubt that they had been used merchandise and nothing but play toys for those animals known as the Ministry of Darkness. And it took Triple H no longer than a second to recognize who they were.

"Oh, my God." He gasped, anger awakening inside him. "Chyna...Sable. No!"

"Wouldn't you agree that they're simply ecstatic to see you?" Taker taunted, licking his lips.

But Hunter didn't see ecstasy at all. All he could see were the tears pouring down their faces and their expressions of desperation. "You sick fuck! What have you done to them!" Hunter shouted against the cold steel of the cell.

"Don't worry. I didn't even waste my time with whores like them. My minions on the other hand-" He stopped the let out a devious chortle.

The second it reached Hunter's ears, something in him snapped. He spun right out of Taker's grasp, which alarmed the larger man a bit, and caught him across the face with a powerful uppercut. Taker's head snapped back instantly and he fell back against the ring apron, seeing flashing lights dance across his eyesight for a second or two. By the time he shook the hit off, Hunter was digging under the ring trying to find himself a nice weapon to shove up the bastard's cold dead ass. Taker roused himself, angered now, stalking toward his opponent. But before he could reach him and do some damage, Hunter ripped a huge sledgehammer from under the ring and jabbed it forward, planting it in Taker's stomach. He doubled forward in pain and grabbed the sledgehammer, prying it from Hunter's hands before he could do anything else with it. "You'll regret ever letting this thing touch me, you son of a bitch." He snarled viciously at him.

"Bring it on, you overgrown Marilyn Manson!" Hunter barked his response.

Raising the sledgehammer in the air, Taker brought it straight down toward the top of Hunter's head, missing by just barely inches as Hunter jumped backwards to dodge it. Unfortunately for him, the cell wall was right behind him and he collided with it, frozen against it just long enough for Taker to ram the head of the sledgehammer into his gut. It struck him so hard he could have sworn his entire ribcage had shattered under the force, excruciating pain shooting through his entire midsection. He grabbed himself around the waist as he fell forward against Taker, his face reddening as he began to cough violently. Taker caught him with just one arm and pushed him back against the wall, holding him still with one hand around his neck. "Didn't I tell you, boy?" He growled, malice flashing across his eyes. He released his neck, allowing Hunter to slowly slump down the wall. Only to grip the deadly weapon with both hands, bring it almost behind him and swing with all his might toward his opponent. Audible gasps and noises of shock exploded from the audience as the sledgehammer cracked against the side of Hunter's skull, sending him spiraling to the ground.

Taker held back a demonic grin as he bent down to grab himself a handful of Hunter's hair, raising his head up to check the damage. So far, there was an enormous gash running down the side of his head, spitting blood drop by thick, crimson drop. The sight of his enemy's blood aroused him. Awakened a monster inside him that could never be tamed; could never cease its deadly lust for blood and anarchy.

Tossing the sledgehammer to the ground, Taker hauled Hunter up by his hair and dragged him all the way to the ring. The smell of his blood filled the Deadman's nostrils as his head lay against his well-muscled, pleather-clad chest. He tossed the half-conscious man into the ring, watching with glee as the limp body rolled across the mat like a sack of dead meat. Then, licking his lips maliciously, he slithered into the ring himself like a snake about to make a deadly attack on its prey. Hunter groaned, knowing that he was lucky to still be alive after a headshot like that from the Undertaker. The man had the strength of a god and if he wanted to, he could have split his entire head open like a damn coconut. As he began pushing himself to his feet, he once again felt Taker's hand in his hair, pulling so harshly it caused him to wince in pain. His blood felt warm and thick against the side of his face and he stuck his tongue out to taste the realness of it, hardly believing that he had been busted open this early into the match. You can't afford to lose, Hunter, he told himself in his mind as Taker forced him to his feet. So many lives depend on you.

The second he figured he had motivated himself with that thought, he whipped himself around to face the big man and threw a hard punch at his jaw. The speed and strength behind the blow was enough to send Taker stumbling back against the nearest turnbuckle, giving Hunter more than enough opportunity. He ran forward as fast as his legs could carry him, slamming all of his weight into the larger man. A loud grunt burst from his lungs before Taker slumped forward with a worn expression, struggling now to regain his ability to breathe. He backed up a good distance, preparing to repeat the previous action, when suddenly, Taker charged forward and tackled him to the mat, all 300 pounds of him just about crushing Hunter beneath. Almost instantly, punches and blows began raining down on him from seemingly everywhere. So hard and fast it was nearly impossible to block. He felt the pain rocking his skull like nothing he'd ever felt before, his own blood splattering in all directions from the constant hits, staining the white mat beneath them.

Taker beat him mercilessly for a moment more until the poor man could do nothing more than lay there nearly unconscious. He felt as though he'd been attacked by a horde of angry horses, all stomping and trampling him beneath their hooves like he was nothing but a pile of shit on grass. The world spun around him, blurring his reality. He could hardly tell whether or not he was still alive or perhaps just barely hanging in there. The Undertaker stood and left the ring to catch his breath after that workout he'd just been through. His skin now slick with sweat, his long, wavy locks stuck to his face, moving back and forth as he breathed deeply. His acid green eyes surveyed the crowd through the square holes of the cell, watching their negative and positive reactions.

A quiet groan behind him let him know that his opponent was still living after his beat down. Growling inwardly in annoyance, Taker turned slowly to face the ring, watching as Triple H rolled over onto his side and cupped his face with one hand, blood pouring between his fingers. The sight of his blood was rather invigorating and Taker could feel his own blood pumping through his veins, every fiber of his twisted, evil being begging to be satisfied with the taking of a soul. Obeying his inhuman urges, The Undertaker slid back into the ring, standing to his feet to approach Hunter. He could see the persistence in the man in the fact that he was now trying to get up. As badly as it hurt him, Triple H was forcing himself to his feet, ready to face the Phenom like no man ever could.

"Stay down!" Shouted Taker between gritted teeth. "Goddamnit, stay down!"

But it was no surprise that Hunter did the opposite of what he was told, and as soon as he got to his feet, Taker grabbed his arm and Irish-whipped him into the ropes. Hunter felt as though he was weightless as he sailed across the ring, hit the ropes, and came snapping back toward Taker before he even realized what'd happened. Only to meet the larger man's massive, tattooed arm on the way back. He grunted loudly as he nearly did a complete backflip before landing hard on his back, his skull bouncing off the mat with a thunk. With the world once again spinning around him, him simply lay there, giving himself time to regain his bearings.

Taker appeared to be amused now, a wicked grin just barely lifting the corner of those cursed lips and his entire body pulsated with sadistic pleasure. "And it only gets worse from here, Helmsley." He said to the poor man sprawled out at his feet, a deep, dark chuckle resonating in his throat.

…...