Thanks to my loyal readers! My appreciation goes out to: Divine Arion, Techno Mouse, Souless 666, and Dark Kaneanite. Thank you for your thoughts and comments! (((hugs))) Oh yeah, and sorry for the delay in updating, Kane muse went on hiatus again…but that gave me time to work on Wizard of RAW which I am having a lot of fun doing. But I love doing this story too! Hope you enjoy this chap.
Chapter 12
Being back into my regular life is wonderful. I have even returned back to my second love—the first being Jenna—and that is wrestling. I called Vince up excitedly and asked if he could work me back in soon. The guys at RAW were glad to have me back, and here I am getting back into the groove. I've done a few matches already and things have been perfectly fine. I think that now I can contain Kane and leave him where he belongs. In fact, he has been rather dormant lately. Maybe he's done with his game.
I shove thoughts of him out of my head as I warm up before my match. I'm set to face Chris Jericho tonight. He's going to have control for most of the match and he will go to do 'The Walls of Jericho' on me. After a few intense moments of my hand hovering over the mat and the ref hollering at me about whether or not I want to submit, I'm going to dump Chris off of me and stomp on his kayfabe injured knee a few times. Then as he writhes in pain clutching the irritated knee, I'm going to slip under the ropes and get a chair. Then I'm going to be disqualified for sandwiching his knee in the chair up and dropping an elbow on top of the whole thing.
We get well into the match and Chris has control of things as of now. Things are going well and he gets me into his hold. He applies pressure and I feel myself slipping. What? Why does he want to come out now? I try to struggle against him as the ref yells in my face. Should I tap out to end the match and get control over Kane? I grimace as I try to push him away. I don't know what the ref saw in my eyes, but a look of alarm passed over his face and he asked in a low voice if I was okay.
"I'm--"
Jericho applies more pressure.
"Glen?" The ref hisses.
Glen? Wrong buddy. I've been waiting for this moment, dumbass Glen. Does he really think I'm gone? I throw Irvine off my back and lean over him with a wild look on my face. But that is just acting he doesn't suspect a thing to be wrong. He just thinks I'm a gimmick, so does Glen. I'm going to show him I am no ones fucking gimmick. I grin and bring my boot down hard onto Chris's knee, not faking like we do most times, but hard and real. He cries out in pain. I do it again and again and he clutches his knee and rolls around in what is supposed to be an act but is real. He looks up at me with wide, wondering blue eyes. I just keep my eyes on him for a few moments and then I turn and duck under the ropes as he rolls around in the middle of the ring. Glen is supposed to go for a chair…that's so boring. I think I will find something more fun and dangerous.
The crowd is booing and cheering as I hunt around under the ring. I spy something of interest and pull it out. It's Hunter's sledge hammer. He's supposed to come out later and interfere in another match. I smirk at the object in my hand. The ref looks around madly, unsure of what the hell I'm doing, and he signals for the bell to bell. It clangs harshly, telling me the match is over. Why does that matter? A bell won't stop me. Chris picks himself up and is trying to make the best out of a botched match. He limps toward the ropes on his injured knee and he begins to duck under.
I walk around the outside of the ring and before he can get all the way through the ropes I grab him and haul him out. He topples down onto the floor and looks up at me stunned. His blue orbs glisten with fear. I stroke the wooden handle of the sledge hammer lovingly as he picks himself up.
"Glen!" He hisses under his breath. The crowd is going wild now as I eye him with evil intentions. "What in the fuck are you doing!"
"This." I say that one word and I pull back the sledge hammer and drive the top of it into Chris's ribs. He doubles over with a howl of pain and collapses to his knees. His eyes squeeze tight in pain and a few tears trickle down his cheek. He gasps for breath that I knocked from his lungs. He groans and struggles to get up. The crowd is still going berserk. The idiots don't realize I'm causing him real damage. I loom over him and laugh then I wrap one hand around his neck and drag him up to his feet. Another cry of pain escapes his lips as I force him up. I drive the sledge hammer once again into his ribs and once again Chris repeats a similar process of collapse onto the floor. I turn my gaze momentarily as I see security running down the ramp. I raise the hammer over my head and let loose a crazy scream.
By now, the cheering has died down. People close to the action can tell something is wrong. Some of them stare in frozen awe, some push past the frozen ones in attempt to flee the scene. I bring the hammer down with as much force as I can and it connects right in the middle of Chris's spine with a sickening 'whump-crack'. The cry that tears from his throat is enough to even send a shiver down my spine. The wonderful, agonizing, joy of it thrills me. I look up to see more fans running towards the doors. Again and again I bring the hammer down to Chris's back and again and again he shrieks. The crack I hear as the hammer connects with his spine elicits a mental image of a little gray mouse—filthy vermin—as it sets off the trap and gets its neck caught and crunched between metal and wood.
I keep going until his wailing is silenced. He probably lost consciousness because of the pain. Deep bruises and angry knots rise up on his back. His hands twitch slightly at his sides. People scream my name and clamor around me trying to beg or force me to stop my madness. I turn on the security personnel and some of the talent that has ran out. Their eyes grow frantic as I raise the hammer over my head ready to bring it down on one of them. Suddenly, the hammer is pulled from my grasp. I turn and scowl at the man I see. Paul 'Big Show' Wight has plucked the instrument of destruction from my hands.
"Come on Glen…" He eyes me warily. He runs a hand nervously over his dark goatee. "Stop this, you're hurting Chris…" He trails off.
I blink at the giant man before me. Wait, what? I am in total confusion. The last thing I know I was in 'The Walls of Jericho.' What's going on now? I rub my head trying to get my bearings. Why is Wight standing over me with a sledge hammer? At first I flinch but then I see the look in his eyes is a look of concern.
"Stop this, you're hurting Chris…" He trails off. I blink up at him dumbly.
"Wh-what?" Suddenly I realize that there are people humming in chaos all around me. Medics rush around and bend over someone on the floor.
"Chris, Chris can you hear me? Hang in there Chris." Someone says.
"We're going to transfer him. Be careful…" The team slips something under his back and transfers him to a stretcher. I can feel the blood drain from my face when the medics move away and I see his eyes flutter wildly. What…have I done? What has Kane done!
"Chris?" One of the medics asks. "Chris can you hear me?"
"I c-can't…feel…" His voice crackles into sobbing.
"Oh my God!" I shout and stumble away form the security personnel who swarm around me like bees. They try to grab onto my arms but I pull free. I am flooded with dizziness and nausea and all I want to do is get out of here. I run up the ramp and away from the scene that I can't believe I caused. No, no I didn't do that, I couldn't! My mind races with a million questions and no answers. This couldn't have happened. I gasp and run through the backstage area to find some escape, not just form this place but from my fucked up life! Footsteps fall close behind me as I whip my head around and try to pinpoint the best exit. Vince comes around me and tries to cut off my path of escape. The look on his face is enough to burn holes through steal.
"What happened out there!" Vince bellows as I push past him. I'm trembling so much I can barely walk straight. Sweat pours from my face and runs down into my eyes. I had to be ignorant, what was I thinking? After my visit where I was presented with child Kane's letters and photos I had thrown the book into the highway. Now those things were just dirty tatters stuck to the pavement. That's where they belong, but however, Kane wasn't as easy to just throw away.
I push past Cody Rhodes and Ted Dibiase Jr. as the exited the locker room with their street clothes on. They cower away from me and Cody shrinks back into Ted as I pass them. I barely make it to a folding chair before collapsing. I can't believe I was so stupid. I had thought my life was getting back in order. It had been nearly a month since I had seen hide or hair of Kane and like an idiot I thought this thing was over. That's what I like to call 'ignorance is bliss' and I wanted to be in bliss so I chose to be ignorant. Kane is not a push over. He doesn't slack up or let go without reason. He was waiting to build himself up and now things were worse than I could have imagined. I hang my head and rub my bald head and start to cry helplessly. Vince storms into the locker room after me bellowing at the top of his voice…
"I'm talking to you damn it, what in the blue hell was that!"
"V-Vince…please don't. Please don't do this right now. I don't know what happened…just please." I prayed the man would leave me be for a while. I honestly don't remember what happened in the ring, and that means Kane was out. And that's bad. All I know right now is that Chris was severely injured at the hands of…me…or something that possesses me. A growl escapes from my clenched jaw. My anger bubbles that I still can not figure Kane out. I have finally accepted that he is more than a piece of fiction, I have realized for some time that there is nothing kayfabe about him. He's all to real, and he has defiantly reinforced his presence with his little act tonight.
"Don't? Don't what Glen, you hurt him! You might have fucking paralyzed him damn it Glen! He's on a fucking stretcher headed to a hospital, you scared a whole arena full of people shitless! What am I supposed to do here Glen!" Vince snarled and grabbed the big man and shook his shoulders. "You need help, I don't know what is going on with you but I can't allow it in my company!"
"V-Vince stop, stop it you're going to make him mad! I don't know how to handle--"
The fucking bastard, how dare he lay his hands on me? I know what I did out there and I'm glad. Chris is a cocky dick head and I'm glad I did it. Glen's weak, he doesn't care if they want him to job to people or lose his matches. He could take with his hands behind his back half of the idiots they put him up against. He's too compassionate. He cares too much about helping the other guys out. Well, I don't. I lost my compassion long, long, ago. Compassion is nothing more than an unnecessary weakness.
"Vincent Kennedy McMahon…" I grin at him with a grin he's seen so many times and I draw my voice out into a low, menacing, growl that he also knows well. His eyes widen.
"Glen…what are you doing!"
"Remember when Stone Cold made you kayfabe piss yourself? Well, I'd like to see the real thing." My lopsided grin widens and my laugh fills the locker room which is empty other than myself and Vince. His eyes widen to saucers and he holds up his hands in some sort of defense mechanism. Those million dollar hands just quiver and shudder in fear. I think of all kinds of nice, devious, bloody things I could do to him. After all, why do I care? He's Glen's boss not mine. I don't give a crap about wrestling, although it did give me a way in.
"Now, now Glen, we can di-discuss this like rational men." Vince stutters. I tilt my head down a bit and roll my eyes upward in thought.
"Hmmm, we could, couldn't we?" I shrug my big shoulders. "But that's not as much fun as this." Vince starts to back away as I rise from the chair and progress towards him as I chuckle to myself. The idiot backs himself into the lockers. He realizes he's cornered and he whips his head this way and that desperately looking for a way out.
"Aw, poor Vinny-Mac."
"Glen, Glen don't do anything unreasonable!"
"Like--" I wrap my hand around his neck and squeeze. "That?"
His eyes harden with determination and anger. He believes I have no right to man-handle him and he realizes he must take some physical action against me. Vince is not a weak man, but I do have the advantage. I have him backed into a tight space. He can't bring his legs up to kick. He could pummel me with a few punches but they won't have much momentum because of the tight space he's in. Even if he tries to get rid of me by causing me pain, it won't do much good. I have become used to pain.
He struggles and attempts to roll my arm and free himself from my grasp. He nearly does but I press my thumb into his throat and he gasps sharply but uselessly. His eyes grow even wider and he opens his mouth to suck in air but there is nothing. This is starting to make me feel giddy. His mouth moves into silent words 'Glen! Glen! Glen!' But he isn't speaking with Glen and I don't give a damn.
He rakes his nails over my arms drawing blood but it doesn't bother me. When he realizes this is fruitless he balls up his fists and begins to crash them against the lockers causing loud bangs to rattle throughout the room. He must hope someone will hear the commotion and come to his aid. His eyes begin to roll as his consciousness fades. His clamoring dwindles to the occasional weak clang of his fist against the metal lockers, but finally his arms hang limp at his sides. His fists uncurl and his hands begin to twitch like dying fish. Now that he's in this weakened state I drag him away from the lockers and into the back area where there are showers, toilets, sinks, and urinals.
I turn him around so his lolling eyes can see his sorry self in the mirror. I'm not sure what he finds scarier, his bluish lips or the glimmer of twisted happiness that dances in my eyes. He tries in a last attempt to back pedal with his feet but he fails. Just as he begins to drift into complete unconsciousness, I let up my thumb and instantly his eyes flutter open. He gasps so loud it sounds more like a snort and then he starts to cough. His chest heaves as his dying lungs pull in too much air too fast.
He's still too dizzy and weak to fight for himself. I'm sure his body is in survival mode and the only thing his brain is yelling at him now is 'breathe!' My hand is still around his neck, and now I will finish what I started. None in here will see my deed but the urinals which stand as silent sentinels, the toilets which peek out cautiously from behind half-opened green doors, and the sinks which drip away idly not knowing how to tell of the mayhem taking place.
The urinals wink up at me like glittering eyeballs as I raise McMahon over them. One of my hand is around his neck and the other clutches the back of his belt. With a swift motion I slam Vince McMahon downward into the urinals. He lets out a yowl of pain as there is a sickening thump of his flesh against porcelain. One of the urinals tears from the wall under the force of the slam and the bottom of the thing busts out as it is thrust hard to the floor under Vince's weight. It meets with the tile and a loud shattering fills the room. Pieces of tile and dust fall from the wall and shower McMahon's pale face and gray suit. A runner of blood leaks down the side of his head from where it busted when coming in contact with the urinal. He lets out a hoarse groan and finally loses consciousness. I just laugh and laugh until tears streak my face.
OMG! Please let me know what you think. :) I feel like I'm on a roll with Kane this evening, so chapter 13 may be up later but I'm not making a complete promise.