A/N: Sorry it took me so long to update I've hadn't had the time nor energy to write.
Hot water pounded against the stark white tiles of the shower and over Abeebah's head. Her eyes were open and tracing the distorted lines of the grout between each tile. Usually the trite activity soothed her nerves and grounded her mind but not even the scalding rush washing down her back could distract her. She was furious, no scratch that she was royally pissed. McMahon's outmaneuvering of her came as no surprise. The jackass had screwing people over down to an art form long before she and her siblings came along but it still stung surprisingly more than Abeebah ever expected.
The darkest horseman let out a hoarse laugh, bitterly realizing that if she and Brandon lost their' upcoming match then they would be in a mirror position of what Taker and Kane were in. It didn't matter that their' conceived match would come after Unforgiven seeing as the feud between the Calloway siblings would most definitely not end there. Another great marketing scheme no doubt thought up by the ultimate businessman himself. None of the Johns had any illusions that somehow someway Vince would not try to screw with the match in order for his plan to work.
"But knowing there is a trap is the first step to avoiding it". Abeebah sighed as she thought of youngest brother's momentary wisdom when she and Brandon had informed their' fellow cohorts of the situation. Turning off the water she smiled truly this time as she stepped out of the tub. A general and unsaid rule among the Johns long after their' parents untimely demise was that each of them got an equal say in the household. It was no different now that they were on the road but much like when they were in Philadelphia one of them would always stepped up as quasi leader in any given situation. It was rare for Evan to take the lead in a situation, but when he did it was always memorable. Drying off the dark beauty wrung out her hair and began to lotion up.
Flashback
"First order of business is research; I'm going to find out what I can about the bozos you're facing". Evan stood in the middle of his three older siblings like a little general delivering orders. On any other day Abeebah would have pointed out how comical they must have looked all congregated around Evan in their' hotel room, plotting. However she too far gone in her rage and need to 'scheme' to really acknowledge the hilarity of the situation. Delia raised an eyebrow from where she sat on the edge of Abeebah's bed, "And what exactly will they do while you research? It isn't exactly like they can train for people they don't have a plan for".
Evan had a familiar smile on his face that Abeebah did not like one bit. Already on edge she snarled at her younger sibling, hoping to stifle whatever notion he head in that wicked little head of his. All of her siblings jumped still not used to Abeebah's hairline temper even after months of dealing with it. The darkest horseman didn't back down an inch. "Come on Beebs just hear me out", Evan nervously bit his lip and turned pleading eyes to his eldest sister.
End Flashback
Abeebah didn't know whether to be pissed that Evan had talked her into this or proud that he was clever enough to have thought it up. Applying sparse eye shadow and shimmering lip gloss the eldest Johns grabbed her brush and began the tedious task of running it through the thick length of her hair. After that Abeebah parted her hair that it concealed her scar while she pinned the other side back with a golden butterfly clip. Sighing Morte glanced at the dress that her sister a selected for her to wear tonight. Delia had called it an Anarkali Churidar style dress. Abeebah just thought it was Indian inspired, as the tight boxed style orange top part and the sheer cream skirt which started right under the bust would conceal her but also leave little to the imagination.
It was an elegant piece of work that Abeebah had no trouble imagining herself wearing if not for the necklace Delia had selected for her to wear with it. Her younger sibling had selected a Madonna style beaded black and gold choker. Abeebah always had a problem with anything or anyone getting too close to her throat. In her childhood it was a necessary phobia seeing as it was a frequent target for her parents and a vulnerable spot she never completely got over. Only a select few were able to get that close without her going berserk and necklaces or high collars were treated with extreme prejudice.
The thought of simply not putting it on crossed her mind but something told her that somehow some way her crafty brothers and sister would find a way of bullying her into wearing it. So after slipping into her new dress Abeebah reluctantly fastened the piece of jewelry to her throat. It felt stiff and tight to Abeebah as if she could feel each bead seemingly digging into her neck. It was an uncomfortable feeling that she tried to distract herself from by turning her attention slightly inward. A trick that she learned from Kane. And was almost horrified at what she found, the steel bite that she had come to associate with her own heart was all but gone.
In its place was a host of chaos flooding her system trying to unite together in some form of order, yet unable to mix. 'What the hell? Why hadn't I noticed before', Abeebah raved at herself, but then calmed down as she saw that becoming upset only stirred the mess even more. The eldest horseman had no idea what it meant and until she got an inkling of what it did she would try to do her best not to further disrupt it. Turning her attention back outward Abeebah didn't even glance at her reflection as she headed out of the bathroom where her siblings stood in wait. Brandon was standing near the door his hands stuffed down the pockets of his black dress jeans, his one and only designer watch peeking from out under his partially rolled jacket sleeve.
The second born horseman was dressed in dark blue button down shirt and Chinese black jacket with a gold and blue dragon woven into the fabric itself. On his feet Brandon wore black boots that Abeebah was sure he bought some time ago at a military second hand store. She turned her attention to Delia, who was sitting on one of the beds and had momentarily stopped putting on a pair of sea green beaded sandals to watch her. There was a smug look on the younger John's face that informed Abeebah that her sister was pleased with her appearance.
Delia pointed to the bed across from her, "there's the rest of your stuff". On the bed was a pair of black sandals identical to her sister's, a shawl that matched the cream of Abeebah's dress, and a rectangular purse. The elder young woman sat down and wordlessly put on the sandals. She glanced at Delia as she pulled the gossamer fabric of her shawl around her shoulders. Abeebah's younger sister had chosen to wear something radically different than her elder siblings.
Delia had styled her chocolate brown hair into an elaborate knot at the crown of her head. The younger horseman had lined the inner and outer corners of her eyes with purple eye shadow and colored her lips with a shimmering pink lip gloss. The 'shirt' that Delia wore, though high collared and long sleeved it cut dangerously under her bust with swaths of fabric criss-crossing down Delia's abdomen and tied into a bow only slightly above her hip. Delia wore low-riding sky blue jeans that hugged her lower half like a second skin. And Abeebah had no doubt that the outfit was an invitation to any and all comers if they suited her sister's taste. Her younger sister smiled mischievously as she finally slipped into her sandals, "Ready to go Beebs"?
Abeebah stood to her feet and all but strutted to Brandon's side. "If I said no you're gonna make me go anyway". Both her younger siblings snorted, following her out the door and to the rental car that their' youngest had somehow arranged for them. Without breaking stride Brandon took his place at the driver's side with Delia immediately taking shotgun. Almost grudgingly the oldest horseman took to the back seat shutting the door behind her with a little more force than necessary.
Neither of her siblings were able to hold back a flinch at her 'little temper tantrum'. "So where are we going to 'relax', as our fearless leader ordered", Abeebah asked dryly as they sped off from the parking lot. Brandon's entire focus was on the road, easily maneuvering through traffic with barely legal turns and almost running every light. Delia paid no heed to their' brother's boarder line suicide driving as she turned around and folded her arms atop the headrest. "I'm surprised you haven't figured it out yet", she teased, "we're go'n clubbing little girl".
Abeebah narrowly avoids growling at her playful sibling; Delia was just trying to get her to lighten up. It was working but she wasn't going to bite her sister's head off for trying, even if she was highly tempted by the idea. Instead she cocked her head and gave a sly smirk, "I knew there had to be a reason why you were putting on your hoe shoes", Abeebah teased Delia right back. Viluppo gave her sister a searching look still seeing the tension in Abeebah's eyes, "Of course can't catch the fish without the proper bait". It was a pathetic attempt to get the darkest horseman to relax but Delia didn't know what else to do and Brandon wasn't going to help.
"So what's this club we're going to", Abeebah ignored her second youngest sibling's discomfort, "it must be nice if you were so set on stuffing me in this get up". Delia rolled her eyes, "It is nice, fancy enough that not a lot of our coworkers frequent it and cheap enough that we won't break the bank for drinks". Abeebah snorted and turned her attention to the window only absently noticing the speed in which Brandon was driving had somehow increased.
But she made no move to tell him to slow down, Brandon always enjoyed the few times he got behind the wheel of a fast car. Delia turned back around and rolled down the window. She too was enjoying the ride. Idly Abeebah wondered if the foot wide smile plastered on Delia's face would have to be surgically removed. A ghost of a grin tugged at her colored lips as Abeebah thought of simpler times, when she and her siblings were just learning to truly enjoy life. Instantly the eldest John's half smile turned into a slight frown, 'stop thinking about it', she told herself.
But then thoughts of everything that happened ever since they came to the World Wrestling Federation replaced Abeebah's memories of 'before'. She gripped that door handle in a white knuckled grip and forced herself to let out a breath. They were supposed to be relaxing and it wouldn't do for her to drown in the feelings she had sworn not to explore. "Beebs", Abeebah glanced toward Brandon, the car had stopped sometime during her distraction and her siblings were waiting for her to exit the car. Both of them had inquisitive worried looks on their' faces. However Abeebah was in no mood to answer their' unsaid questions and ignored them as she got out.
And raised an eyebrow as she beheld the club that her siblings had dined to go and relax. One might describe "The dungeon" as red carpet club as the line to get in spanned the block. Abeebah followed her younger siblings to the door, knowing her clever youngest brother had somehow arranged for them to get inside as well. The bouncer took one look at Brandon and moved to the side allowing them entry. "Oh he's good", Abeebah had to agree with Brandon's statement once they were inside. The walls were lined with a burgundy fabric and wrought iron lamps. Small intimate bistro tables surrounded a raised dance floor except for one side. The lights were pitched low enough to give privacy but bright enough to avoid accidents.
Many people were on the dance floor moving with the pulsing music and generally enjoying themselves. Delia immediately moved to join them leaving her older siblings to decide what to do amongst themselves. Brandon and Abeebah laughed, their' younger sister obviously liked this place. Taking Abeebah's arm under his Brandon chivalrously lead his older sister to a table to watch their' sister dance. None of the horsemen noticed the eyes that were following them. Right near the entrance a cameraman and his partner conversed about the new arrivals.
"Wow, I wouldn't mind tak'n that one ta bed". His partner rolled his dark eyes and considered not informing him exactly who he was eyeing through his camera. "Joe, trust me you don't want to mess with that". Joe glanced at him, "an' why not, ya got to admit that's a fine piece of ass Jack". Jack once again rolled his eyes, "besides her being a wrestler? That broad just happens to be the fist lady of the horseman or didn't you notice her on Guerra's arm"? Joe's eyes went wide and he barely managed to keep grip on his equipment as he swore venomously. "You're kidding me right; I thought the icy bitch wore a mask"? Jack held back the urge to slap his partner for his crud description of the woman he had come to admire through the lens of a camera.
Morte was in a word, a specimen of deadly grace and easy beauty. Jack had easily recognized her for it even though she wasn't wearing her ring gear. When Vince had ordered them to this club to catch some moments with some of the more well known wrestlers of the federation he had no idea that the horsemen would be here. Then again Jack hadn't dared to hope that Morte, the recluse eldest would ever be caught dead going to any club, even a chic one like the dungeon. Yet here she was in all her mask-less glory and on her brother's arm.
"Yo, Jack, anybody home buddy"? Flinching back into focus the cameraman gave a nervous laugh, "sorry Joe what'd ya say"? "How bout we shadow er', see what a night on the town is like for the Ms. Frigid bitch". Jack was breath away from reprimanding his partner for being disrespectful toward the diva once again when Joe's idea clicked in his head. He found it very appealing but then shuttered at the thought of what Morte would do to them if she caught them. Seeing the hesitant look on the man's face Joe gave him a playful shove, "come on man McMahon would kill for this footage, hell we might even get a raise", he coerced. The lore of money was enough for his overworked and underpaid coworker.
They spent the entire night watching the horsemen party; or rather they watched Viluppo and Guerra party and Morte watch with a pleasant smile from the table she sat at. The two men were about to give up when someone actually came up and asked the eldest horseman to dance to one of the slower songs. That someone was the Undertaker. Jack and Joe nearly fell over on themselves as they watched Morte accept. "Where the fuck did he come from"?! Jack could only nod dumbly in agreement at Joe's assessment. It was a well know fact that the deadman didn't go to places like this. And yet here he was, dressed in a well cut blue button down shirt and tight black jeans.
Quickly Joe raised his camera, recorded the surprised reactions of Morte's siblings before turning his camera on the dancing couple. It wasn't lost on either Jack or Joe how easily the Phenom whipped Morte around the dance floor, nor how easily the darkest horseman followed his lead as they spoke. They were too far away to hear and they didn't dare get any closer for fear of getting caught. On the dance floor Abeebah ignored the stares of her siblings boring into the back of her head and instead regarded her dance partner searchingly. "I didn't know you could dance old man", Abeebah teased, her mind flashing question after question that she did not ask.
Taker's gaze stayed locked on hers, "I have many talents". Patiently he waited for Abeebah to give voice to the burning demand in her eyes. However the question never came as the eldest horseman knew how to play this game and played it well. She kept the conversation between them light and outright teasing using her natural charm and acrobatic wit to outwait the uncomfortable air between them. After a few more minutes of conversing and dancing, Mark finally determined that Abeebah wasn't going to crack. "I'm surprised to see you in a place like this", he finally gave her a window of opportunity to ask.
Abeebah didn't think twice, "I got dragged here, would have been kicking and screaming but I have a reputation to protect, what's your excuse". Amusement wafted off the deadman, but it was gone just as it appeared; "No one would think to look for me here". He wasn't going to tell her that he had also met someone here and had spotted her and her siblings. Abeebah could feel him leaving something out and it was good as lying to her face, "don't Mark, just don't, if you're going to lie just don't tell me anything at all".
Taker's eyes grew cold but he didn't say a word. Delia and Brandon watched their' sister's interaction with the deadman from the dance floor, only catching snatches of conversation as they whirled passed. Neither of them was stupid enough to try and interfere with what was going on between the two but they would keep watch from a safe distance. They knew that Abeebah needed to deal with Undertaker on her own. When it became apparent that the two were no longer speaking both Brandon and Delia were confused but made no move to cut in.
Suddenly Taker stopped mid-stride, "come with me". The darkest horseman looked up at him with raised brows. Her mind screamed at her not to trust him but her bitch slapped her mind with resounding force. "Lead the way". Not waiting for Abeebah to change her mind Taker led her away from the dance floor and out the front door, her hand still in his. Brandon and Delia didn't follow. However Joe and Jack weren't so wary. "Get the van Jack", hissed Joe as they slipped out of the side entrance unnoticed. The cameraman ducked around the corner to follow the retreating couple with his lens. Undertaker was lead Morte to a dark truck that ne had parked not far from the club.
Joe recorded the entire time, intrigued by the gentlemanly way that the Phenom treated the younger woman as he opened the passenger door for her. What surprised him the most was the reticent young woman didn't seem to mind the deadman's behavior. There wasn't anything to really suggest any interaction to actually suggest anything beyond casual acquaintance but then Joe seriously doubted that either of the wrestlers would be very demonstrative.
He heard a car pulling alongside of him and lowered his camera to see Jack beckoning him to hurry up. Lowering his camera he got in the van excitedly buckling his seat belt and all but hissed at his partner when they didn't immediately begin tailing the deadman and his 'date'. Jack glared at him anxiously, "I'm not getting killed cause' you were so God damned impatient". Joe scowled but didn't argue with him. In the truck Mark had covered Abeebah's eyes with her golden shawl and then started the engine. The eldest horseman didn't protest even in her angered confusion.
She could feel the miniscule nervousness escaping whatever block Mark had on his heart. He had something he needed to express to her but he wouldn't do it if he were gainsaid in anyway. This was a trait about her silent companion that she had come to expressly despise. The former red head was a control freak if Abeebah ever knew one. It was what caused him to ignore Kane and allowed Paul to manipulate him. It was what caused him to close himself off from her.
And whether she admitted it or not, Abeebah hated being cut off from either of the brothers. So she endured the makeshift blindfold, for them, she endured many things that she thought she'd never have the patience for. Mark glanced at Abeebah from the corner of his eye, surprised that the glacial woman hadn't taken the 'blindfold' as soon as he put it on. He had imagined her fighting him, demanding answers he wasn't ready nor willing to give. The girl was control freak if he ever met one, always cool and in 'the driver's seat' as it were, even in the seemingly uncontrollable situations.
But now she didn't seem so cold, but then again she had the very fires of hell burning in her soul. It melted some of the frost and steel that made Abeebah essentially Abeebah. Somehow she seemed more fragile in this state, more womanly, passionate and hot blooded. Her connection to Kane saw to that. And seeing her in the dress didn't help either. Abeebah knew he was staring and had a vague idea what he was thinking but grit her teeth against the automatic retort that begged to be unleashed. He was so focused on hers and Kane's changes that he didn't recognize his own. They were all changing for better or for worse. Mark was becoming more evasive, a pale looming shadow to his former intense self.
Abeebah lost track of time as she sunk deeper into herself in order to escape the oppressive presence that was her bond mate. It did little of anything save to distort the passage of time. Finally the world came back into focus as the truck came to a jerky stop. Without her eyes to guide her, the eldest horseman used her other senses to get a feel of where they were. The air was moist and cold; Abeebah could smell the grass even before she heard the door open. She felt Mark grasp her hand and helped her out the car.
Gravel protested under her sandaled feet as she was led along by her hand. Absently Abeebah traced the tattoos on Mark's wrist fascinated even more now that she couldn't see them. She didn't even acknowledge the car door slamming behind her. Mark led her into the grass before moving out of her grasp and finally removing the 'blindfold'. Abeebah fought back a gasp, a pair of simple tombstones stood solemnly before her. And by their' side was an even smaller pair of twigs fashioned together in a shape of a cross. It didn't take a genius to figure out who graves they were. "Ah, deadman you shouldn't have we haven't even been on our first date yet", the dark beauty said dryly.
Unable to help himself, Mark snorted, "smart ass", and handed Abeebah her shawl before seating himself in front of the graves. "You wouldn't have me any other way", she told him, 'and we both know it'. He ignored her statement in favor of the graves as he brushed away stray pieces of dirt from their' faces. He reached out his hand for his unmoving companion. Once again unthinkingly she took his hand and he pulled her down to sit opposite of him and facing away from the graves. "What did you feel when your parents died", he asked her. Abeebah shrugged, "do you want the honest answer or the one that's going to make you feel better"? It was Mark's turn to be sarcastic, "an honest answer would most appreciated".
"I didn't know what to feel when they were gone, so in truth I felt nothing", the dark skinned beauty cocked her head. Mark searched her eyes and found nothing but cold truth there. He didn't know whether that made her as much of a monster as he or not. Abeebah dropped her gaze plucking at the blades of grass at her fingertips, "odd thing bout' monsters, what makes us truly monsters is more human than anyone ourselves included care to believe". Startled green eyes bore holes into the curtain of hair that blocked Abeebah's face from his view.
Suddenly he found himself wanting to see 'her', wanted to see the woman Abeebah so desperately tried to hide. But what right did he have to force vulnerability onto her when he was guilty of the very same thing. Cursing himself for the sudden weakness in his resolve Taker swept the diva's hair away from her face exposing the scar that had fascinated him since the moment he met her. Docilely Abeebah let him, allowing the contact that she had starved for, silently relishing in the chaste kiss he bestowed upon her brow, confessing with their' hearts what they couldn't speak aloud even in the sanctuary of the graveyard. Neither of them knew that they were being watched through the scope of a camera lens.
"My God Joe we're gonna be rich, Taker and Morte? Deadman and the first lady? The prince of darkness finally found a princess", Jack had all but wet himself as he and his partner watched and listened to the unawares couple's every word. Joe was smiling crookedly at him from where he lay behind another grave, "hey did I call it or what", the obese cameraman whispered back, "Let's get this to McMahon immediately". Joe made a move to get up and cap his camera only to be stopped by Jack. "What"? "Let's not get ourselves killed before we can get it to McMahon", Jack hissed fiercely nodding his head toward the now standing couple.
They froze waiting to see if they would be noticed only to sigh in relief when the couple merely walked away. "Jesus that was close", Joe hissed finally stopping the tape so that he could cap the camera. Jack had a hand over his heart trying to fruitlessly stop its frantic pounding. 'That was too close', he decided having seen Undertaker's 'temper tantrums' on more than one occasion to known that following him wasn't the smartest idea. But the beckon of money had overcome common sense and for once he was glad for it. "Now, let's get this to McMahon".
Unforgiven was upon them and the four horsemen had come to play. All them came dressed in their' ring attire, ready and relaxed. Or at least at peace in Abeebah's case, she couldn't really relax with the questions written across Delia and Brandon's eyes. They hadn't told Evan of the encounter and for that Abeebah was thankful but also wary. Two matches had already occurred before their' arrival. First were Faarooq, Ken Shamrock and Steve Blackman versus the nation of domination and then Triple H versus Owen Hart for the WWF European championship. Abeebah didn't have time to ask who won what seeing as the backstage immediately ushered she and Brandon to the gorilla position just off stage. "They're not allowed ringside", one stagehand informed them.
Under her mask Abeebah scowled, "why"? The stagehand flinched, "Mr. McMahon's order Ms. Morte". Her three younger siblings growled, "McMahon". "Are you two going out together", asked a sound technician hurriedly. "Yeah, que Guerra's music", Abeebah said as levelly as she could manage. She didn't want to frighten the backstage crew anymore then they had already. The stagehands were acting stranger than normal, and she wasn't oblivious to the looks she had been receiving ever since her and her siblings had entered the arena. Brandon gave her a quizzical look. "My music is creepy, yours will make them wet their' selves immediately".
Her brother snorted and turned his attention to their brother and sister, "go back to the hotel ain't the use in stick'n round here". Delia crossed her arms with a raised brow, "And if anyone tries anything-" "We'll brake them", Abeebah cut in without remorse, "go". Having more sense than his sister, Evan grabbed Delia's hand and dragged her away. The two eldest horsemen watched them go as the music box melody of Brandon's music began. "Come on", she turned and stalked to the curtain not even waiting for her brother to follow. And as always the cheers were deafening and she had to stop in order to reorient her senses. She could feel Guerra stepping up to stand besides her lowering his shoulder slightly to bump into hers.
Morte tilted her head in acknowledgement knowing that he couldn't see her smile nor hear her voice above the roaring crowd. And together they made a relaxed descent to the ring. "AND MAKING THEIR WAY TO THE RING, REPRESENTING THE FOUR HORSEMEN, FROM PHILADELPHIA, MORTE AND GUERRA". Ricky Morton stood in the ring with his tag partner and friend watching the approach of their' young opponents. And young they were from what the stats that they had gotten from McMahon were anything to go by. The eldest Morte who easily stride and predatory grace had Morton uncomfortable was only twenty years old and her eldest younger brother was only younger by six months.
Though hidden behind the mask and the way she carried herself no one would know it, Ricky supposed that's why the deadman was attracted to Morte. She carried herself like a queen both in and out of the ring. Everyone had saw the footage of them in the graveyard earlier that night and it was on everybody's lips that the first lady of the horsemen had ensnared the prince of darkness. This put him and his partner in a very dangerous position if it were true that Taker and Morte were more than friends. "So what do ya think", Ricky glanced at his partner Robert.
Robert shook his head backing away as the two sibling slipped into the ring. Guerra flipped over the top rope while Morte rolled under the bottom one. The flashing strobe light made the entrance more disorienting, making it seem as if they were appearing and disappearing with each movement. "You start off Rick, I wanna take the big mofo over there", Robert cocked his thumb toward the younger horseman as the lights finally returned to normal. "You sure buddy", he asked teasingly, "don't want to go toe to toe with the Mrs. Taker"? "Excuse me gentlemen, but whom are you referring to", Ricky turned his attention Morte who was watching them curiously through her mask.
She seemed genuinely curious, polite and regal even as they were about to wrestle. It only lent to the reason why she was given the moniker of first lady. "Well, actually you little Miss", the platinum blond informed her, his southern manner's making them known. Morte's eyes became slits as glowing amber pits stared at him with bare flashes of emotions too quick to catch. "And what would give you the idea that Undertaker and I were involved". Ricky struggled to hold his ground under the younger wrestler's scrutiny and barely heard the bell ring.
"W-w-well Miss e-e-e-everyb-o-dy seen da footage of ya'll to-to-gether". Something in the horseman's eyes changed became colder, damning in the lowest sense. Without even knowing it Ricky backed away. "Thank you for clearing that up, now you'll have to forgive me", Ricky began to quake as Morte's voice picked up a metal grating quality, "because I am going to beat the high holy hell out of you". Before the two- hundred- pounder could even move Morte was all over him, elbowing him repeatedly in the head and in the ribs.
The referee called for a break up and Rick foolishly thought he could mount an offense. He caught a left hock in the jaw as soon as Morte had created enough space for it. The crowd groaned in sympathy as they all heard the bone protest being nearly dislodged. The referee admonished Morte or at least tried as one look from the eldest horseman sent the poor official scrambling in the other direction. The without preamble she managed to drag Rick's carcass to the middle of the ring and apply a leg slicer, a compression hold that Abeebah was adept at using on a regular basis.
The unholy glow in her eyes told the entire story and although against his better judgment Rick did not tap even as the slicer was synched in. From his corner Brandon watched his sister's shift in mood in earnest, knowing that in all likelihood she was going to probably permanently damage the other wrestler. But there was nothing he could do with Abeebah holding one half of the Rock and Roll express at bay in the middle of the ring and the blond man's partner didn't seem stupid enough to interfere.
Robert was pacing out on the apron, nervously combing his hand through the thick mop of his hair. "Come on Ricky", he called out in encouragement. But his encouragement wasn't enough to break Morte's iron grip on the blonde's leg which was being stretched beyond its limit. He tried rolling over to relieve some of the pressure, she just synched it in tighter, he tried to get to the ropes but Morte didn't give an inch. Rick was near tears trying to figure out how to get Morte to let go. And then, "Morte look out", not thinking twice Abeebah let go and rolled over.
And narrowly avoided being hit in the back of the head with a chair, a man just a few inches taller than Brandon stood over Rick. The referee had already called for the bell disqualifying Ricky and Robert, who had jumped into the ring to help his fallen comrade. But the man who just attempted to take Abeebah apart was already hopping out of the ring Brandon in hot pursuit. The Rock and Roll Express retained their' title, "Somebody wants to die tonight", she growled rising to her feet. "That was Bodacious Bart", she didn't even glance Robert's way.
Abeebah found her brother pacing in the parking lot, his face red in fury and his knuckles clinching and unclenching as he moved. She didn't even acknowledge the camera following her every move. "Where's the sorry some' bitch", she hissed. "He hopped in a car and Porky pig drove his yella' ass on", Brandon snarled back. The darkest horseman nearly lost it then and there. McMahon had set them up, and he was going to pay dearly for it. "Come on, us and McMahon is going to have a nice lil' chat, hopefully we'll break every scheming bone in his godforsaken body". Brandon easily followed his sister bad intentions on the horsemen' minds'.
Back in the arena everyone watched the drama with awe and excitement. This was a side of Morte they had never seen before. Definitely more aggressive and more attitude, it felt as Morte was becoming more real to them as a person. Where as she was untouchable before the showing of the graveyard footage now they understood a least a small bit about her. And the fact that even the ever calm stoic leader of the horsemen could lose her temper lent to the image Vince was concocting. From the locker room he was occupying Undertaker watched the drama as well.
He could feel Abeebah's shattering temper cutting deep into his darkening heart. There had to be more to his 'friend's' loss of temper than losing tag titles that she didn't even want or even the footage that had found it's way to Vince McMahon's hand. Which, the deadman was sure was the manipulative businessman's attempt to make them an on screen couple. It wouldn't be the first time it happened. But something was definitely off if both Guerra and Morte had lost all patience. However Undertaker wasn't going to intervene he had his own problems to deal with.
The deadman wasn't the only one to feel Abeebah's rage. Like everyone else Kane had seen the footage from the night at the grave. However unlike everyone else he recognized that there wasn't anything 'romantic' in the way that Mark and Abeebah were touching each other. In fact the quite picturesque scene was one of simple comfort between two similarly lost souls. 'A picture you belong to', something in his mind whispered to him even over the whiny grating pitch of his 'father's' voice. Kane ignored it, raging that someone would comfort his brother after all he done. Again the voice questioned him, 'and what about all that you have done? Did she not comfort you even after your own transgressions'? Kane ignored it once more.
The night went on, unable to find McMahon anywhere Brandon had to beg and plead Abeebah to leave the arena lest she commit mass murder because someone worked up the nerve to call her deadman's bitch. She reluctantly did finally recognizing that in the state they were both currently in that they would likely get arrested for just that. Vince who knew what was going to happen all along had made he and his entourage scarce and had camera's follow the siblings until they were gone. Two more matches had occurred while they had ducked and dodged the millionaire's employees.
First was Luna with her equally odd and twice as cruel boyfriend Golddust against Sable in an Evening gown match. Luna won because her significant other Mark Mero distracted her. Luna tore off the cat's dress without compassion. Then there was the WWF tag team championship. It
was L.O.D (A/N: legion of doom for the poor unfortunate few who don't know) against the New Age Outlaws. Per usual the Outlaws cheated shamelessly and picked up the victory. Now the crowd was pumped and ready for the fight they had been waiting for all night even more so than Stone cold defending his title from Dude Love ne: Mankind.
They were anticipating to see the first ever Inferno Match. The climax of a brutal family reunion between Undertaker and his 'little' brother Kane would finally come to a head here. Suddenly the arena was plunged into total darkness and the crowd went wild when they heard the organ sound from the titantron. A wall of fire shot out from the floor, dropping just as quickly bathed the arena in red light and walking with a slow purpose Kane came out from behind the curtain.
Paul was not far behind. Kane was surprised, the crowd was cheering. What were they cheering for, he had come to destroy their' precious prince of darkness. Didn't they understand he cared nothing for them? That their' approval wasn't anything special to him? He who had suffered without cause because people refused to see a broken little boy the world had thrown away instead of a 'big red retard' or 'a French fried freak' or even 'a big red machine'. They were as much a monster as he for taking pleasure in others' suffering.
'And he will suffer', Kane assured the searing hatred in his gut. Getting into the ring and ignoring the cheering crowd Kane raised his arms. Then fiercely bringing them down, he watched as the pyros in the turnbuckles go off causing those watching to gasp. The pyros burned themselves out and once again the arena was plunged into darkness. This time it was bells that sounded from the titantron and the presence of the deadman seemed to chill the very air. Vaguely Kane could hear his portly benefactor wailing as if in pain.
He didn't even turn around, the fat fuck wasn't really in pain he was just adding theatrics that Kane wouldn't. Purple light flooded the arena and Undertaker made his slow entrance. His eyes were locked on Kane's. They were cold, flat in his confusion as what to feel, what to think. Kane didn't want that, he wanted his brother's fury, wanted his agony to sing along with his own. He wanted Mark to not be able to move from the sheer amount of it. Kane rose his chin watching silently as his elder sibling mounted the steps. The stagehand's had wetted both their' manes with a fire retardant so as to not singe the "best hair in the biz". It had a strange effect in making Mark's hair appear black. The color didn't suit him at all due to his natural pallor.
Stepping into the ring Taker still held his eyes, searchingly. Kane didn't know what he was looking for but he wouldn't find it. His heart was closed to both of his bond mates. Finally giving up Undertaker dropped his eyes and removed his jacket hardly paying attention as he threw it over the top rope. The fire trench that had been set up under the ropes earlier was now set alight. Both Calloway brother's eyed the flames before turning their' attention back on each other. They both stepped into the center of the ring, eyes locking once more. Mark's eyes were questioning his brother's again unable to reach Glen mentally. His answer came in the form of a punch in the face.
It wasn't long before Kane had him a corner and his little brother wailed away as Taker covered up as best he could. Unceremoniously he pushed the big red machine back. It wasn't enough to knock him down but it was enough to make the big man stumble. Taking advantage the Phenom let his fist fly, getting his brother close enough to a turnbuckle to grab his hair and forcefully shove his face into it. Elbowing Kane in the throat and then punching him in the mask, Taker Irish- whipped him across the ring.
Or at least he tried. Mid-whip Kane reversed it sending him careening into the turnbuckle. Kane followed him in, smashing further into the corner. The auburn haired man fell to a knee and immediately grabbed the second rope to lever himself up. It turned out not to be the best idea because the big man practically on top of him now used the second rope to choke him with one hand while he pushed his face to the fire with the other. Frantically Taker struggled trying to push away from the very hot fire that was beginning to singe the hairs inside his nostrils.
Finally after repeated elbows to his brother's gut Taker was able to knock Kane off and scramble away from the flame. Kane was on his feet before he could take advantage. Once again Taker went to punching the behemoth, trying to create an opening that just wasn't there. Kane took each hit as if they were nothing and threw some of his own. Back and forth back and forth the match went on with neither brother able to get a clear advantage over the other. Taker had even gone so far as to do an old school just to get Kane off his feet. The attempt was unsuccessful.
A clothesline knocked Kane over the top rope but he was still able to land on his feet, leaving his brother still inside the ring. Then Kane saw him, rushing toward him foolishly was Vader. Turning his attention away from his brother Kane met the four-hundred-pounder with a closed fist to his eye. They exchanged blows ignorant of what was going on behind them. That is, until they came tumbling down with all three-hundreds some odd pounds Undertaker descending upon them. The Phenom was the first one up, narrowly avoiding being hit by a chair Paul had conspicuously retrieved. The man of the darkside grabbed it and turned to see Vader already retreating into the crowd just as they agreed at the dungeon.
And just as Kane was about to turn around Taker hefted the steel chair and solidly hit him over the head with it. As hard headed as Kane was, single minded in his drive, he went down, leaving his 'father' to deal with the reaper. Deadman knew that he would be up soon and that they would be at it again but until then he would take a measure of retribution out of Paul's hide. He dropped the chiar and turned his attention the reason for all the lies and torment throughout his life. The fat man wattled up the ramp, calling for Kane to get up and save him.
Undertaker scowled fiercely at the gall and cowardess of Bearer, backing him onto the stage where musicians had played earlier. Where the instruments were still there. Grabbing the largest drum, Taker slammed it down on Bearer's head making the obese waste of space fall. Then taking a mic stand the red head bashed it repeatedly until his arms could do it no longer. He put all the years of loneliness and self loathing to every strike until there was nothing left.
It was a measly token of suffering that Taker had taken out of the big man's hide but it was a start. The deadman left him there, going back down the ramp the green eyed demon of death valley was confronted by Kane. The big man was on his feet and a steel chair in hand raised and ready to crash down on his head. Too tired to raise his fist, Taker planted his boot in his brother's chest pushing him back and knocking him into the fire trench. Kane immediately dropped the chair, his arm was on fire. Rushing past his brother the big red machine rushed offstage. Taker got back in the ring as the bell was rung signaling him as the victor. Kneeling, he grieved, there were only losers in this match as far as he was concerned.