Chapter 11

Chatter, chatter, chatter. That was all that went on backstage. Never anything exciting except the annoying gossip of the women and the men bragging about their steroid-pumped bodies. Boring! Edge snorted as he passed by a group of chattering wrestlers who, as usual, gave him some form of a nasty look. He called it 'the eyes of jealousy' because he knew just how goddamn good lookin' he was. So they had every right to be jealous.

"Pricks..." He muttered under his breath.

A shrill cry suddenly echoed from somewhere down the hall. Edge halted with a start before taking off running in the direction of the noise. In no time, he had come to an abrupt halt in a dimly lit corridor, wide eyes staring ahead at a rather gruesome sight. "Ah, come on!" He groaned irritantly. "Not here, man!"

It wasn't much of a surprise but rather unexpected that Gangrel had a woman pinned to the wall in the dark, one hand hiking up her short dress while the other had a handful of her curly, blonde hair. Her head was pulled sideways, the angle looking rather painful, her neck fully exposed to the sharp teeth protruding from Gangrel's blood-soaked lips. "Y'know, Gangrel, they have allies for this kinda thing." Edge rolled his eyes as he watched Gangrel gorge himself on the woman's blood.

Gangrel threw his head back dramatically, a loud hiss escaping his lips as his fangs were forcibly yanked from satisfaction. Pale, blue eyes met Edge as his head turned to look at him, first full of hunger, then lighting up with an arrogant grin. "The streets don't feed us like these show girls do, Brother." He exploded into laughter, soon plunging his teeth right back into the woman's neck.

Edge cringed as she moaned loudly, her eyes staring off in a daze. Like she was dying...

"Y'know, sometimes when they moan and scream, they're not telling you to continue." Edge informed, looking over his shoulders to see if there was anyone nearby. "And, unfortunately, now that she knows what you are...you're gonna have to kill her."

Gangrel lifted his head again, just enough to give the girl a break, his eyes staring coldly at her torn flesh. He growled quietly, knowing Edge was right. "Damnit!" He shouted, suddenly tossing the woman to the floor. She fell with a shriek, her heavy breaths the only indication that she was fighting for her life, other than her slow, lifeless movements. Edge looked at her worriedly, before his attention returned to Gangrel who was now leaning forward with his hands on the wall. "It's getting old, Edge." He said, shaking his head slowly. "It's getting real goddamn old."

"What is?" Edge asked, but something in him already knew the answer.

"Hiding!" Gangrel whirled around with a loud hiss, his fangs still greatly extended so he looked like something fresh out of a Dracula film, especially with the amount of blood staining the front of his 1700s blouse. "Shouldn't we be proud of who we are, Brother?" He eyed Edge sternly. "When I created you and Christian, I never intended for you two to be so...ashamed of yourselves."

"We aren't ashamed." Edge frowned. "It would just...catch the world off guard a little if they were to find out that the blood you spit in the air for show is real and we truly are..." He stopped.

"See?!" Gangrel raised his voice. "You can't even say it!"

"I was getting to it." Edge sighed.

"Then say it, Edge! What are we!"

Edge muttered something in response, his eyes trailing off. Gangrel cupped his hand behind his ear almost mockingly. "What, Edge? I didn't hear ya. What's that you said?"

Edge muttered it again.

"Louder!" Gangrel suddenly shouted, causing Edge to jump.

"Vampires, damnit! We're mother fucking vampires!" Edge shouted back, his hands balling into fists. He released a deep breath, returning himself to a cool demeanor. "Can we get somewhere a bit more private now? I don't want someone to come back here and hear us."

Gangrel stared at him for a moment, then frowned. "Where the hell have you been? You smell like Bed Bath & Beyond."

"She's here. I can smell her on me, too."

"What? Who?"

"You don't remember?" Edge flailed. "The girl who stood up to us while we were kidnapping Debra and Chyna?"

Gangrel's eyes widened as a toothy grin spread across his blood-stained lips. "The one Taker was talking about in the ring?" He bent forward with the volume of his laughter, slapping himself across the thigh. "Hot damn!" He shouted. "You thought this chick right here was moaning and screaming? Leave me in a dark room with her and you'll hear some real moaning and screaming."

Edge grimaced. "Focus, man!" He snapped his fingers in Gangrel's face, getting his attention instantly. "There's a specific reason why Taker wants her. He hasn't told us...not yet. But it probably as something to do with Paul Bearer's attack. In other words, if we get the girl, vengeance is ours. But-"

"Well, let's get her! Where is she?" Gangrel started to leave when Edge grabbed his arm to stop him. "We can't just snatch her ass up like we did Debra and Chyna. She has to come willingly. Not to us either. She has to go to Taker."

Gangrel squinted in confusion. "What're the chances of her willingly giving herself to the Undertaker? Thought about that? Last time I checked, he scared her shitless."

"Exactly. But that's why Chyna and Debra are out there to help her make a final decision. Plus, Taker's beating the shit out of Hunter like he's never done before because he knows they have some kind of connection. Like a close friendship, maybe. Come on, Gangrel. You have to put two and two together. Taker's not easy to figure out, but this one's pretty simple. The girl just needs a bit more...coaxing." The word dripped from his lips like venom as a snake-like grin spread across his lips, exposing his own small pair of fangs.

"Coaxing?" Gangrel cocked his head, somewhat knowing where is Brother was going with this.

Edge then reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small pill bottle, but it wasn't a bunch of capsules sealed up inside the bottle. Instead, it was a thick, crimson substance sloshing around with his every movement. "You know what they say about vampire blood." He chuckled darkly. "It works better than any crystal meth, crack, pot, you name it. This'll help her...think things through."

At that, both men shared laughter that could only be described as evil.

…...

Persia shifted uncomfortably in her seat, her eyes darting left and right as fans made unwelcome comments about the match all around her. Shouting stuff like, "Taker's gonna turn that mother fucker inside out!" and "Yeah, the Dark Side rules! All hail the Lord of Darkness!" They were mostly drunk, teenaged boys hyped up on the adrenaline the show fed them, brainwashed into believing that the demonic entity inside that cell was some kind of...savior. Some kind of idle.

The match was getting harder and harder to watch. On top of the fact that the Undertaker hardly knew the meaning of the word "mercy" and was practically killing Triple H, the Acolytes had brought out Chyna and Debra in shackles to watch the brutality. Not that they were paying more attention to the match than their own bondage. They looked like kicked puppies out there, gagged and crying, begging for freedom. And it was all in one person's hands.

Persia's grip tightened on the arms of her seat as she seemed to sink backwards. Paranoia now haunted her in a thick cloud, causing her to feel as though the entire arena was watching her. Waiting on her to make a move and put an end to all the madness. After all, it was her fault. She was the reason why Chyna and Debra had gotten kidnapped and the reason why Hunter was getting his ass handed to him on a golden platter. That sick freak known as the Undertaker wanted her, but why? What the hell did she do to grab attention from someone like him? Someone so evil and vicious.

She swallowed, her throat feeling dry. Where's my damn Mountain Dew? She wondered.

And as if on cue, "Sorry I took so long." She heard a voice from beside her and instantly jumped with a start.

Adam plopped back down in his seat next to her, holding up the ice cold bottle of Mountain Dew she had requested. He had an apologetic smile on his face, his eyes just as warm and gentle as when he first introduced himself to her. Persia took the drink, forcing herself to laugh off how badly he'd frightened her with his sudden appearance. She didn't even see the others in the row move to let him through. "Thanks." She said, taking the bottle from him. "I thought you'd forgotten about me."

"Oh, no, not at all. I had to speak with a friend out in the hallway about...business that needed to be handled."

"Is everything alright?" Persia wondered, frowning a bit.

"Yeah, of course." Adam nodded. "Now you just sit back, relax, and enjoy the show."

Persia noticed the way those last few words came out in a bit of a hiss, but ignored it, telling herself that she was probably going crazy again. She twisted open the bottle, heard a faint hiss from the pressure release and put it up to her lips, unaware that Adam was watching her the whole time. Waiting and anticipating. She has absolutely no idea...he thought to himself, an almost invisible grin twisting his features.

She paused and looked at him, arching a brow as if to say, "Do you mind?"

Edge looked confused for a second, until he realized that he was sitting forward practically in her face. "Oh, so sorry." He laughed nervously, immediately sitting back in his seat and looking straight ahead, his eyes eventually shifting back to her. He had to watch every second of what was about to happen, knowing that Taker would be so goddamn proud.

"It smells a little odd." Persia frowned, staring down at the bottle. "Do you think they added a new ingredient or something?"

Edge rolled his eyes. "I don't think so." He forced himself to sound...nice. "But who knows. I had one myself earlier today and it tasted about the same to me. Delicious, as usual."

"Hmm." Persia hummed to herself in thought, then shrugged. "If you say so." And then took a gulp.

Edge slowly turned his head to look at her, a bit disappointed when she only looked down at the bottle with an approving nod. "Are you sure it tasted the same? Cause this is the best tasting bottle of Mountain Dew I've ever ha-" She stopped suddenly, her voice trailing off as her eyes snapped up to look straight ahead. Edge continued to stare, curiosity setting in now. Focus vanished from her eyes just like that, a distant, almost empty stare coming in to replace it. She had frozen in that position, holding the bottle in front of her for what seemed like an eternity although it was only about ten seconds. And then...splash!

The woman seated on the other side of Persia jumped with a gasp as Mountain Dew hit the floor and splashed onto her new alligator-skin shoes. "Well, I never!" Edge heard her say, but was too busy staring at Persia to respond or even look in the woman's direction. Was his idea...working? "Persia?" He said her name.

No response. She didn't move or blink. Only continued to sit frozen, her blank eyes staring straight ahead into the cell.

Yes! Now, you're mine!

…...

Black and white was all her eyes could see, little white snow flakes raining gracefully from a gray sky bleeding into a black horizon. Stretching for what seemed like miles was nothing but tall, gray blades of grass, dancing in the wind. It looked cold, but she couldn't feel it. She felt like air, bodiless, weightless, simply floating through time like a ghost. The trees danced, too. Tall, eerie, crooked, grotesque, croaking trees reaching to stab the dying, gray sky and the thick clouds that rolled slowly across.

She didn't know how she got here, or how she was going to leave, but while her mind was panicking, all her body wanted to do was...dance? And so she did. The snow was soft as cotton beneath her bare feet as she began to twirl and sashay, much like the ballerinas she used to admire when she was a child. She'd always wanted to be the little princess who fell in love with the handsome Nutcracker. Her expression was blank, mindless, faceless. Out of it, she just moved with the music of the wind howling through the dead trees. "I'm so pretty. Oh, so pretty." Her voice echoed through her mind as her eyes fell shut and the impulse swayed her, taking her through the snowy forest. Yes...that was where she was. A snowy forest.

She cradled her arms around herself, spinning around and around, not knowing why she wanted so badly was to just dance but the feeling was heavenly. Like she was floating on a cloud. And she felt so...pretty. Like mother used to call her. Such a pretty little girl, she would say.

"But I want to be a ballerina, Mother." She spoke just barely above a whisper, stopping when a sound echoed suddenly through the woods. She wasn't startled, rather curious as to what it was and where it came from. The question was answered soon enough when a majestic, winged creature landed upon a tree branch nearby, instantly drawing her eyes. A little black bird.

"Why, hello." She felt herself smile, but not on her own. "Tell me, little black birdie, do you think I'm pretty enough to be a ballerina princess?"

The bird cawed once, red eyes settling on her dangerously. And then it took off, flying toward the black horizon.

"Wait." She called out, her voice windy, drunken. "Come back. Don't you want to play with me?" She ran after it, her feet making soft crunchy sounds in the snow. "Don't you want to dance with me?" Jumping over fallen logs and pushing through deep pits, she followed the bird until she could see what appeared to be a lake up ahead. "The water." She whispered. "It's so pretty."

And it was in her deranged eyes, a pool of crimson shimmering beneath the gray clouds. Like blood.

…...

Hunter could see stars dancing behind his half-lidded eyes as he felt blow after blow knock his head left and right, his jaws throbbing in pain. Probably fractured, dislocating or something. Before him, Taker was seething, his arrogance and pride building with each infliction of pain he gave Triple H. After just about pounding his face into an unrecognizable mess of oozing flesh, he grabbed the man by his hair and sent his knee straight up into his gut. Over and over and over again, nearly chuckling as Hunter jumped up and down with each blow he took.

Needing a break now, Taker used one hand to hold him up against the cell wall, looking around for more torture devices. Those sinister, acid green eyes of his soon landed on the steel stairway laying upturned nearby, just waiting to be further utilized to the Undertaker's pleasure. With nearly all his strength, Taker threw Hunter by his hair straight into the steel steps, satisfied when he heard a loud crash and nearly the entire arena saying, "Oooh!" In response.

Hunter simply lay facedown on the steps, his body broken, beaten, bloodied, bruised. Not even fully aware of what he was being put through because he was so out of it. One thing he was aware of was that Stephanie was probably watching. Horrified, wishing that she could somehow get him out of the Deadman's grasp. Her name tumbled out of his mouth very weakly, just barely audible enough for anyone to hear, but somehow Taker had approached just in time to hear it. He chuckled, a dark sinister sound that was frightening to all ears, bending down to grab Hunter by his hair again. "What's that, Helmsley?" He yanked the blonde's head up so that his lips were right next to his ear. "Do you want your precious Stephanie McMahon to come save you?" His eyes rolled back as he snarled viciously, a low growl rumbling in the base of his throat before he then shouted, "You weak, pathetic shit!" And sent his heavy, booted foot into Hunter's ribcage.

Hunter jumped, his arms immediately wrapping around his aching midsection as Taker allowed him to roll onto the floor, agonized grunts and groans leaving his lips. Taker frowned at him, placing his hands on his hips for a moment. Hunter was usually the one to give him a pretty decent fight, but tonight it was different. It was evident that Taker had gotten stronger ever since he sold his soul to the dark side, but even still, Hunter was tough as an ox. He wasn't showing that tonight, however. Why? Taker wanted to know why he wasn't seeing The Game. The Cerebral Assassin he'd gotten used to over the years. Perhaps Hunter didn't care to beat him. Perhaps, all he wanted to do was keep Taker as far away from the people he loved as he possibly could. Perhaps, he was sacrificing himself for their sake.

Taker's brows furrowed at that thought. This foolish imbecile was allowing himself to be used as a human punching back just to protect...the girl.

Taker growled as he grabbed Hunter and rolled him back into the ring. He was just about to climb under the ropes himself when he suddenly stopped, one leg propped up against the ring apron. His eyes squinted at a rather peculiar sight he caught among the crowd, a series of movements coming from several people all at once. Not just ordinary fans, but security guards. They were rushing down the aisle toward someone and when Taker lowered his gaze a bit, he saw exactly who they were after. A woman was making her way down, appearing to be headed right for the cell and she wasn't just simply walking. She was dancing down the steps, not missing a single one despite her drunken movements. She looked ridiculous and, in fact, had plenty of people from the audience both laughing and staring at her as if she'd gone mad.

What in the hell is that bitch doing? Taker thought, and then realization dawned in his eyes.

…...

Stephanie gasped loudly. "Shawn!" She shouted across the room at the Heartbreak Kid who was lacing up his wrestling boots.

He immediately jumped up and rushed toward Stephanie who sat on the couch with her eyes glued to the television on a cart in front of her. "Shawn, she's doing it!" She sounded horrified.

"Doing what?" Shawn asked, his tone frantic as he dropped down next to her to see what she was talking about. His heart dropped into his stomach when he saw the cameras pointed toward the crowd where a drunk-looking Persia was now fighting through security guards to get over the barricade. She had a dazed look on her face, as well as a drunken smile like she was seeing little canaries dancing in circles around her head.

"What the hell does she think she's-" Shawn jumped to his feet and rushed toward the door, grabbing the knob and throwing it open. Just as he had, he was met with a big, white fist, cracking him right on the side of the head.

Stephanie screamed as he crumpled to the floor, Stone Cold Steve Austin now standing over him with a vicious look on his face. "I ain't gonna let you get Debra hurt, ya son of a bitch!" He shouted down at the unconscious man.

"Austin, what the hell is wrong with you!?" Stephanie bellowed, scooting back into the couch, a look of horror on her face.

"You want yer little Chyna ta walk outta here alive?" Austin raised his finger at her, his brows raising authoritatively. "Then I suggest you listen ta good advice and keep away from that damn ring! If any of us interferes, Taker has the permission to hurt Chyna and Debra."

"What? But-"

"Shut yer damn mouth and help me haul this sumbitch onto the sofa, ya hear?"

Stephanie didn't move, her eyes wide as she stared at Austin, heavy breaths making her chest bound up and down rapidly.

"Now!" Austin shouted, glad when Stephanie came clicking across the room in her noisy heels to obey. Once Shawn was on the couch, Stephanie began to pace about frantically, inwardly panicking. Austin could see that it was taking every ounce of her strength to keep from running out of the room.

"She's insane! She's completely fucking insane!" She suddenly yelled, throwing her hands about furiously. "Austin, we have to do something. If we don't, Taker won't hesitate to pop her head right off her shoulders like a Barbie doll. She's diving head first into the deep end out there, Austin!"

"I don't care what the fuck he does to her!" Austin yelled back. "I just want Debra out of harms way! Understand?"

"You selfish son of a bitch!" Stephanie screamed, causing Austin to wince. "Chyna, Hunter, and Persia are in deep shit themselves and all you care about is fucking Debra Marshall!?" She was two seconds away from slapping some sense into the man.

"I don't see why you give such a fuck about the girl when she was only gonna take Hunter from ya anyway." Austin jabbed his hands to his hips, craning his neck forward to further emphasize the seriousness of his point.

"Excuse me?" Stephanie wrinkled her face at him, confusion in her eyes.

"Damn, you're one dumb broad, ain't ya." Austin almost laughed. "You saw the way that sumbitch would look at her every time she came around. Like he was seein' heaven walkin' around in Calvin Klein heels. You save the girl and Hunter'll be all over her like salt on a peanut."

Stephanie's eyes narrowed, something furious flashing across her eyes. Was that really what was going on or was Austin just trying to mess with her head? Her gaze flickered toward the television, eyebrows raising when she saw the Undertaker simply standing before the cell wall with his hands on his hips, watching with a frown on his face as Persia somehow pulled through the security guards and fell onto the concrete on the other side of the baricade. "I don't believe you, Austin." She practically hissed at the Texan who was now folding his arms across his chest.

"Hey, you don't have ta believe me, darlin'. Just ask Shawn when his dumb ass wakes up. He sure as hell ain't good at lyin' either."

Stephanie glanced at Shawn, her hands finding her hips as she shifted her weight to one leg, tapping her foot on the floor as she thought about what Austin was telling her. It couldn't have been true. Austin was just trying to get to her, trying to weaken her mind, but she wasn't having it. Then again, Persia was absolutely gorgeous, capable of getting any man she wanted if she tried. On top of that, Stephanie had her little hunches about her being a bit sneaky at times, secretive and mysterious. No. She mentally slapped herself, pushing Austin's words out of her mind. Hunter is mine. No one else's. Don't listen to this buffoon. He's trying to turn you against Persia. He can't win right now. What matters most is that Chyna, Debra, and Hunter are safe. Right...?

…...

Taker was both amused and baffled by what he was now witnessing. Not only did this little petite woman fight through about five enormous security guards, but she was now having them chase her around the goddamn cell. And where were her goddamn shoes? Did she have any sort of decency? He followed her with his predatory gaze, as she ran all the way around to the front of the cell, broke through a group of alarmed officials and continued to run like a little kid chasing a beach ball down a hill. The security guards were infuriated, one of them ripping a walkie-talkie from his hip to call for backup because, quite obviously, the five running after her at the moment were incapable of keeping up.

He heard something from behind, a faint groan followed by extremely heavy breathing. He turned slowly, spotting a half-dead Triple H making his way toward him, arms dangling from his slumped and bloodied body as half-lidded, yet determined eyes met acid green ones. Taker snarled in disgust at the zombie-like creature, dragging a chair out from beneath the ring with his foot. "Coming back for more, Helmsley?" He tilted his head in a taunting manner as he stomped on the edge of the chair, causing it to bounce right up into his hand. "Showing me you got a set?" He gripped the chair with both hands and took three steps forward, his long strides enabling him to reach Hunter quickly and easily. "Well," He lifted the chair back, his eyes flashing with malice as he aimed. "Mine are ten times bigger, boy!" Thwack!

Hunter was immediately sent flying from the impact of the chair as metal met his skull. Taker had swung it so hard that he was pretty sure he fractured something. He could hear the crowd roaring, pumped and riled up by the violence and brutality. Especially his Creatures of the Night who adored his every move. He lifted the chair above his head, prepared to pound Triple H into the ground with it when a series of shouts caught his attention. He froze with the chair in the air, turning his head in time to see the woman quite literally fly past the cell door, and twice the amount of security guards were now running after her.

The strangest part was that time seemed to slow down just for her head to turn to look at him. The moment he saw those ocean blue eyes, he was rooted. It's you! His mind roared as he threw the chair to the floor and went for the cell door, wrapping his fingers around the metal.

"Hey! Hey! Hey! You can't do that, man!" The referee who had been mostly hiding outside the cell shouted as he grabbed the other side of the door, knowing exactly what Taker was going to do.

All it took was for Taker to buck himself forward with a vicious snarl and the referee immediately backed up, obviously knowing what was good for him. Taker could hear that the commotion had now gotten behind the cell. His muscles worked all along his massive arms and shoulders as he began pulling on the door, strength that could only be described as inhuman popping it right off the hinges and tossing it right behind him. More referees rushed forward with hands raised, all talking at once to try and convince him to get back into the cell and finish the match. Apparently, that wasn't happening.

Taker snarled as the jumble of commands and voices stabbed at his ears, instantly setting him off. One massive hand lashed out, palming the referee directly in front of him in the face. The others jumped back as the small man was sent sprawling to the floor, eyes widening as they stared at the angry Deadman. The bastards should've known better, Taker thought as he turned away from them just in time to see the woman running along the side of the cell. At any second, all of them would come bolting around the corner and Taker would be caught up in a train wreck, yet he decided that he would meat them head-on. Like a boss.

"Ma'am, we're gonna have you placed under arrest if you don't stop this instant!" He heard one security guard shout, but the woman didn't stop. She ran even faster, giggling madly like a school girl.

Taker rounded the corner himself in that instant, his chin low as he glared right past the woman at the security guards from beneath furrowed brows. With his shoulders bounding up and down with deep, steady breaths and his teeth showing through that vicious snarl of his, murder was written all over the hulking mass of a man. The security guards, all ten of them, almost instantly halted when they saw who had appeared around the corner of the cell, his cold glare sending chills through each and every spine in the group. It was then that he felt the woman run right into him, bouncing off of his solid form without even moving him an inch. She went sprawling to the floor, shrieking as her feet flew up over her head and she nearly completed a backwards somersault.

"S-sir." One security guard stepped forward slowly and hesitantly, holding one hand out to The Undertaker to signify that he meant no harm toward the much larger man. "If you don't mind, this woman needs to be detained."

The Undertaker took one step forward, and despite how small the movement was, the security guard still jumped back like he'd pulled a gun on him. "Touch her...and I'll break your little arms and tie them in knots around your pudgy ass like a goddamn straitjacket." Came his frightening response.

The smaller man swallowed, waving off the others without looking away from the Undertaker. He took another step forward and they all split like bananas, high-tailing their asses right back over the barricades to finish doing their jobs. There was no hint of amusement in those acid green eyes as they followed each security guard until they were a good distance away. Good. He hated the brutes because they were the main ones sent to get in his way whenever he was on the verge of killing a bitch all up and down the arena. And speaking of bitches...

A loud giggle rang in his ears from below, catching him a bit off guard. He'd forgotten the little blue-eyed killer was on the floor, his cold gaze lowering to glare fire and daggers at her. Strangely, that red-rimmed gaze of hers seemed to look right past the fact that there was a massive monster in front of her with every intent of crushing her beneath his big boot, because she was still giggling. In fact, she was sitting at his feet Indian-style, rocking back and forth with her hands clasped at her ankles, her eyes twinkling with the innocence of a child. "Now, will you dance with me, Mr. Blackbird?" She said in a childish voice. "I bet you dance like a pretty ballerina princess, too."

Taker snarled in disgust before bending down with a snap to grab her by the collar of her white sweater and pull her face-to-face with him. Her pupils were dilated and her head just lolled about while she giggled uncontrollably. There was only explanation for this kind of behavior. She was high as a kite. "Edge." Taker growled, knowing the bastard's name was written all over this.

"So the little locket doll's finally decided to show up." He sneered. "And with good timing, too. I know you're a friend of Helmsley, and he was a heartbeat away from losing his soul to the Lord of Darkness tonight. I'm sure he is very appreciative of your...uncanny appearance."

"Persia!" A shout rang from inside the cell and when Taker looked up, he saw Hunter crawling toward the steel wall that separated them, anger in his eyes as he grabbed onto the metal and tried to pull himself to his feet. "Undertaker, you sick bastard! You let her go right fucking now!"

Taker arched a brow before the cruelest smirk Hunter had ever seen etched itself onto his features. He stood up straight, lifting Persia by the collar, spotting a crooked, drunken smile spread across her face before he headbutted her almost as hard as he would headbutt his opponents in the ring. Consciousness was knocked clean out of her, her body immediately drooping. Taker slipped an arm behind her as she fell backwards, her back arching over his forearm. Hunter immediately started yelling curses at the top of his lungs, trying to crawl his way to the door of the cell while Taker chuckled at him. He knew exactly why he did that. Not only to get her high ass to shut up, but to piss Hunter off as well. "I'll fucking kill you! YOU SICK SON OF A BITCH!"

"You should be thanking her." Taker's words slithered from his lips tauntingly as the crowd behind him roared so loud he thought he would be deaf by sunrise. "You're still alive because of this unfortunate soul. And as for Chyna and Debra?" He looked up the ramp at them, saw the Acolytes walking them down toward the cell, tugging on their chains like they were nothing but dogs. "They weren't much entertainment for me. I'm a man of my word, so they're yours."

Faarooq and Bradshaw ripped the gags from their mouths and threw them both into the cell. Gasping for air and crying their eyes out, they scrambled for Triple H, trying to get as far away from Taker and his henchmen as possible. Hunter kept his eyes on the Deadman as he felt Chyna and Debra grab onto him and cling for dear life, despite the fact that if anything were to happen, he'd barely be able to defend them in his current state. Right now, he needed to get to a hospital because he was sure Taker had broken several of his bones.

"That's the little cunt who attacked Paul Bearer?" Faarooq asked, looking the unconscious Persia up and down in surprise.

Taker's head slowly turned to look at both Acolytes. "Let's go." He demanded in a low growl, giving Hunter one last glare before tossing Persia up onto his shoulder like she was nothing but a ragdoll. The three of them walked up the ramp to exit and just as they reached the curtain, Stone Cold Steve Austin and Stephanie McMahon came racing through the curtain to meet them. Of course, Austin was barking curses at the Undertaker who simply stared at him, unimpressed.

"You'll pay for this." Stephanie spat at the Ministry, her eyes flashing with anger. "Every single one of you dirty fucks!"

"You want a dirty fuck? Come see me in the limo, sweetheart." Bradshaw laughed and Faarooq immediately joined him.

Stephanie gasped, simply staring at them with her mouth hanging agape as they walked on by without further acknowledgments. Stone Cold was tempted to swing at least one good punch to the back of Taker's head, but wasn't sure if he should with Persia dangling from his shoulders in the way like that. He swore under his breath, knowing that the most important thing to do now was get to his Debra. "Debra!" He shouted, taking off down the ramp.

Stephanie followed him as fast as she could in her work heels, her heart dropping the moment she saw Hunter. "Oh, my God!" She gasped, both of them all but tumbling into the cell. Dropping to her knees beside Hunter just as he fell off the cell wall and landed flat on his face with a grunt. He was gone. Whatever ounce of energy that'd sparked up just for him to shout his final words to the Undertaker had now slipped from his broken body, leaving him a motionless heap of battered flesh. Stephanie shook his shoulders, screamed his name, tried everything she could to wake him up but he didn't.

EMTs were now swarming into the cell, carrying a stretcher and several white cloths to wipe the blood from his skin. Stephanie backed away as they grabbed Hunter and carefully lifted him onto the stretcher, strapping him down securely. The other medics had begun to tend to Chyna and Debra, checking for any injuries or reasons to drag them to the medical room along with Hunter.

Somehow, Stephanie knew this wasn't over. In fact, she could feel it in her bones that things were only going to get worse from here. Whoever had the balls to attack Paul Bearer would have hell to pay.

They're gonna send all of Texas straight to hell.