It had only been twenty four hours removed from Unforgiven and everyone was still abuzz about what happened. Austin was still champion after hitting McMahon over the head with a steel chair. Vince was beside himself in rage that the title couldn't change hands and the horsemen were enraged with the cards their' fellows had been dealt by their' employer. It was already in the works that Brandon and Abeebah would be having a hardcore match on Raw. There was nothing they could do seeing as the contract dictated that all matches were determined by the higher ups. But that didn't stop Abeebah from calling a meeting with Linda McMahon.
Vince had, in his eagerness to show the world Morte's private life; made a grievous oversight in the contract which he had signed the horsemen to the WWF. And the eldest horseman was going to take full and unadulterated advantage of this oversight to make him pay. It was this mentality that drove the darkest horseman to call the McMahon matriarch as soon as she and her brother returned from Greensboro Coliseum and what drove her to get up even with the emotion and physical exhaustion early the next morning and what drove her now that she was sitting before Linda herself, acting like she normally did distant yet courteous despite her rage.
Linda eyed her husband's employee behind the raised rim of her tea cup. Abeebah seemed to be paying her no mind as she drank from her own cup. Dressed in Indian beige silk the newest diva of the WWF seemed perfectly at home in the high class restaurant that Linda had chosen for this meeting. "So what has my husband done this time", she said finally setting aside her tea. A scarred brow raised as Abeebah too put her beverage aside, "Mr. McMahon breech privacy clauses often"? The dark diva easily picked up the involuntary twitch in Linda's hand that so badly wanted to be a flinch. "I'll take that as a no", Abeebah stated leaning back in her seat, "really I should be calling a lawyer ready to sue-"
"But you're not because you're smarter than that, you know that you can't get much of anything if you sued", Linda mused allowed. Abeebah gave her a chilling smile, "you are of course right, and the fact that Vince in his arrogance would try something else does leave me at in impasse". The dark eyed woman raised an eyebrow at the young woman's eloquence. There were hints of it during their' first encounter but now it seemed to blossom before Linda's eyes. "Of course, the true question is why you came to me"?
"Because unlike Vince", Abeebah's false smile dropped unceremoniously, "you will keep your word as I will keep mine". Linda's dark eyes bore into the eldest horseman's but only found her own reflection staring back at her. "You know-", "That you're scheming to wrestle the family business from your power hungry not to mention adulterous husband? Yes I know". Linda lifted her cup and took a sip letting the lavender scent soothe her. Setting it aside once more the sandy haired woman regarded her with a new respect, "yet you didn't use this information, why"? Abeebah held back the urge to roll her eyes, "I'm not power hungry Mrs. McMahon, and I'm a firm believer in staying out of business that isn't mine".
Her eyes grew hard as diamonds, "however Vince trespassed and I am not a merciful being by any stretch of the imagination". "So its revenge, is that what you want"? Any other time Abeebah would not have answered but something told her if she wanted to get what she wanted from the elder woman she was going to have to answer. "No, what I want is a quite tenure in your fine company but since Vince made that impossible I'm stuck doing damage control". Linda made an agree noise in the back of her throat.
It made sense from what little she knew of the young woman. Abeebah Johns was a rarity in the business, hell she was a rarity to the human race. And it was for this reason alone that she would help the girl, "Then my question to you stands as this, what is it that you need"? "An iron-clad contract is all I really require the rest I can do myself", Abeebah said with an almost giddy feeling trying to fight its way into her heart. It was Linda's turn to raise a brow, "good because that's about all I can give you, I don't think I would be able to extend the same to your siblings". "About that", Abeebah sighed, "all Vince really can do in retaliation is to them is send them in matches he know they won't win so-".
Linda got a Cheshire cat grin, "I'll make a new clause in their' contracts, the higher ups may make the matches but your siblings have to agree to them, Vince won't be able to fire them if they refuse". The eldest horseman held back a sigh of relief; it would make it much harder for McMahon to use them as a means to get her under control. Taking a sip of her tea Abeebah lowered her lashes in a lazy look of patient predator, "so how long will it take for the new contracts to be in effect"? Linda's smile was her answer.
Kane sat on his current bed nursing the burns of defeat on his left arm. Ironically he was thankful to have fought his brother and a way proud that he had lost to him. 'There's no shame in losing a fight, but there's no honor in not fighting at all', Mark had once told him after a particularly bad day when they were still children. Frustrated, the big man shook his shaggy head his brunette curls flying every which a way even as he compressed ice to his bandaged arm. Glancing over at the bed just two feet away from his Paul Bearer lay comatose. Undertaker had beaten him, badly.
But not badly enough for the obese bastard to need medical attention, 'a pity', Kane thought viscously. It was ridiculously easy to ignore the abrasive sting of the ace bandages against his seared flesh. Pain was a constant in his life and this was no different. Or at least he tried to tell himself that as phantom screams of his hated/loved parents' screams echoed in his head. Kane didn't hear his past self's screams, he had stopped years ago. No one was coming to help him. Grunting the big man got to his feet. He needed to get some fresh air.
The chrisom demon left the room and made his way to the weight room. He cocked his head in surprise when he saw Guerra there. The light-skinned boy was different, Kane tilted his head further. The horseman seemed more feral. His green gold eyes were mindlessly set in front of him as he curled ten pound dumbbells, his lips pulled back into a scowl. Not calling attention to himself Kane went over to the bench press and adjusted it so that he started at thirty pounds.
And began to lift, or tried to seeing as the pins and needles feeling shooting up his arms nearly caused him to lose grip of the weight. Suddenly a pair of hands was there and steadying his grip but not taking the pressure off of his arms. Kane looked up into amber flecked green eyes, "Need a spot"? Almost automatically the big red machine nearly reached for the young man's throat. He had albeit unintentionally implied that he was weak. But once again he was stopped by the spiny pain in his arm.
Brandon ignored the sudden twitch knowing that if he could Kane would attack him. But much like with Abeebah's aversion to anyone getting close to her throat, Brandon simply didn't give a damn. Danger was the norm in the Johns household and so he didn't take offense in the big man's ire in the least. Slowly he allowed some of the weight rest on the older man's arms, slowly the weights lowered and Brandon could see the glint of pain reflect in Kane's eyes. He didn't stop until the weights nearly touched Kane's chest. Grunting, the brown haired man pushed up, lifting with Brandon's help once more.
The entire time the light-skinned horseman helped him Brandon didn't say a word. There really wasn't anything to say, Kane much like Abeebah couldn't and or wouldn't stand verbal reassurances. So Brandon would help him recover strength from the mild burn by helping Kane lift weights. This was good enough in Brandon's opinion. They continued the workout for awhile finally setting into a comfortable rhythm that both of them were comfortable with. Then Bearer came calling. "KANE"!! Immediately Brandon lifted the weights to the holster and went to the door. He wasn't stupid enough to stick around for the fireworks sure to follow.
Slowly Kane sat up, waiting even as Brandon made a hasty retreat. His arm was all but screaming in pain but at least he could no longer hear his parents screaming. Paul burst into the gym moments later his fat jiggling each which a way under heavy bandages. Under his mask Kane grinned. However it dropped as soon as Bearer decided to reacquaint him with his strident voice, "There ya are son' A've been look'n all over fer ya".
Dark curls descended over his masked face as he lowered his head, concealing his eyes. Arrogant fool that he was his obese 'father' took this as a sign of submission. "You failed me Kane", Bearer's beady eyes glared, "it was your chance to FINISH HIM AND YOU FAILD". Kane didn't bother to conceal the full body flinch caused by the fat man's abuse of his eardrums. And like always Bearer made simpering noises as if he were still a child stroking his hair, acting as if he were actually comforting him. It made the big red machine sick to his stomach that he allowed it happen, to allow himself to be belittled.
"Don't cha worry none son yes indeed we gonna get that red headed no good sonofabitch back if it's the last thing I do". 'Oh it will be the last thing you do, I promise', Kane thought with no shortage of hatred. In the end he would be free, Bearer would be dead, and his brother would pay for his crimes past. The red headed man still held him even as Kane didn't relax in his arms. This was a well used abuse, adding insult to injury.
No one else would dare touch him out of kindness without wanting to use him and Kane knew it. The big man once again ignored the voice in the back of his head calling him all kinds a liar. Finally Bearer let him go. "Now A've got a plan an we gonn hafta go to the doc's place", Bearer's voice became thicker with his southern accent a sure sign of his plotting. Kane just stared at him, still as the dead and rage burning in his gut. Paul's schemes were methodical and viscous but more often than not poorly executed. This one promised to be no different than any other.
Brandon returned to his room, dodging his younger brother's eyes as he went. He knew what his little brother would say once he caught glimpse of his eyes. The second eldest wouldn't be able to keep what he had done from his intuitive sibling and he was in no mood for lectures. Throwing himself down on his bed Brandon let out a long sigh. From the corner of his eye Evan glanced at his second eldest sibling. Something was bothering him, the youngest Johns could tell by the tense set of his shoulders. But he didn't bother opening his mouth, the hazel eyed boy was dog tired himself and in no mood to weasel out whatever got under Brandon's craw.
They were soon joined by Delia, fresh from an almost all day long shopping trip. Apparently their' new 'status' in the world wrestling federation required that they look their' best all the time. Or so said the one known as Chaos among the horsemen however none of them really cared. They each did something to distract themselves from their' collective smoldering tempers at their' recent string of bad luck. Abeebah had gone off to see Linda McMahon but Evan seriously doubt the woman would help them even with the stuff he had been able to dig up on her when he started working closely under commissioner Slaughter. 'But then again', Evan thought with a quirk of his lips, 'Beebs can be down right suave when the mood strikes her'.
"Beebs come back yet", asked Delia dumping the bags onto Brandon's back. Her light-skinned brother let out soft curses but didn't move. Evan glared at her from over the book he was reading, "no". The youngest horseman bit off whatever else he wanted to say, there was no use in snapping. Delia took off her new sunglasses and put them on the TV cabinet. She wasn't quite ready to sit still yet, but there wasn't anything to do. Pacing didn't seem like a good idea seeing as both her brothers were still agitated. Glancing at them both she threw up her hands, "I'm gonna do some more shopping". Brandon and Evan's heads shot up, "the hell ya aren't". Crossing her arms Delia pouted, "And why not"?
"Because, not only do we need to lug all that shit around but if w let you you'd spend it all". All three of them turned to see Abeebah entering the room. Their' eldest sibling was dressed in her 'finer' suits. The Indian silk hugged her hips and thighs modestly for an a-line skirt. A matching short sleeved jacket contoured easily to her upper curves and offset the simplicity of her gray high heels. With Abeebah's chocolate mane pulled tightly into a bun she was the very epitome of tasteful businesswoman, which was the look she was going for. The eldest horseman strode further into the room. There was a lazy satisfaction to her gate, "Horsemen we have planning to do".
Monday night had come far too soon in the backstage crew's opinion. A week wasn't enough to settle the buzz of Unforgiven and all the juicy drama going around. The New Age Outlaws were the tag champs and Sable and Mero's relationship was on the rocks. Austin's chair shot to the boss's head would translate to trouble for them but seeing the jackass collapse was well worth it in their' opinion. But the most popular rumors did not revolve around the WWF champion. Those particular honors belong to the one and only Phenom himself, the Undertaker.
His budding romance with the leader of the horsemen was the talk of the town all week. Everyone thought they would make a striking couple indeed if they were together. More than one wrestler bemoaned at losing the chance of gaining the exotic beauty's attention. The divas gossiped about it all week. Perhaps finally having each other in their' lives would cause the reticent deadman and frigid queen to finally lighten up. It was a fragile hope that they all held on to but a worthy one in everyone's eyes.
However no one dared approach Undertaker when he came to the arena. As eager as they were all to know whether or not he and Morte were truly together none of them were stupid enough to approach him about it so soon after the Inferno match fiasco. Everyone was surprised when it was announced that Guerra and Morte would be having a hardcore match that very night. Some thought that it was in retaliation for not being there. Others thought McMahon had simply lost his mind. No one could have guessed that the four sibling had snuck in long before the show even started and were waiting to hatch their' plan to make Vincent Kennedy McMahon's life miserable.
It started with small incidents, a few missing pieces of equipment here or there, food in catering being spiked, and miner paperwork being tampered with. The stagehands had to inform McMahon of it and the millionaire sent Slaughter to see to whatever was going on. Leaving him alone with only a cameraman, Patterson, and Brisco in the locker room he had claimed as his 'base of operations'. What he didn't know was that he and his flunkies were not as alone as they thought. Suddenly and out of nowhere the lights went out. "What the he-", Patterson was cut off by the distinct feeling of chain meeting his face, tearing flesh as his eye was forced further back into the socket. Then another fist took the air from his lungs as it crashed into his solar plexus.
The cameraman was knocked off his feet, his camera sent flying. He didn't have a chance to get up before the heavy piece of equipment hit the back of his head breaking it instantly. The poor man was knocked out instantly and would probably have a concussion. Brisco wasn't in much better shape as he was somehow choked from behind, his feet dangling off the ground as whoever had Brisco lifted him off his feet. Blindly Vince tried to move and find the door to get out. Instead he had his feet swept right from under him. The millionaire slammed face first into the concrete. Instantly he covered his nose as he felt blood trickle down his nose. Suddenly a foot slammed down on the small of his back, a pop echoed throughout the room.
Vince couldn't hold back the scream of pain that welled in his throat if he tried. The sound was ignored. Brisco had passed out from the lack of oxygen going to his brain and he was unceremoniously dropped, the chain finally loosening enough to allow him to inhale. Patterson had long passed out from the pain from being beat over the head repeatedly but the beating continued despite it. "Enough". Like Brisco Patterson's head was unceremoniously dropped.
"You just had to spoil the fun do cha", Delia's voice floated through the room a bare threaded whisper. "There is a camera watching outside, I don't want ya'll getting caught", Abeebah hissed back quietly. Just as the younger woman was about to retort Evan's voice joined in, "you know she's right now come on". Unseeing eyes glared at his direction but the third born horseman didn't argue as she and her two brothers went to hide in the lockers. As she passed her elder sister Delia handed her the bloodied chain she had beat Patterson with. She didn't even have to see Abeebah's face to know that the dark skinned Johns had raised her eyebrows, "for dramatic effect", was her only explanation as she closed the locker door.
Behind her mask Abeebah smiled, then wrapping the tainted steel around her fist made her way to the door, stepping over broken bodies as she went. There was no turning back now. Once she walked out of that door and everyone saw Morte leaving behind the broken form of Vince McMahon and his lackeys the darkest horseman would be entering into an entirely new territory. Her grin became absolutely feral, 'bring it on bitches' and without another thought she carelessly opened the door and walked out. The cameraman flinched, startled by the sudden movement. Morte easily strode passed him making sure to swing her arm so that he could get a clear shot of the blood stained chain wrapped around her fist.
She paid no mind to the gasp of horror that soon followed. She was going to the ring. As she traversed the halls people seemed to part like the red sea as she went. Even the main event stars moved out of her way. A camera followed her as she went to the gorilla position. A meek stagehand stepped in her path just as she was about to go out to the ring. "Sorry Ms. Morte but Undertaker is already out there". She cringed sure that the diva would strike out. Instead the darkest horseman cocked her head, "tell the sound guys to que my music". Thinking that this was only reprieve she would have from the reticent diva the stagehand did just that. Inside the ring Undertaker was addressing the crowd about his fight with his brother.
It wasn't what the crowd wanted to hear about but he wasn't going to acknowledge the 'relationship' between him and Morte if he could help it. But then Morte's music began to play and the lights changed blue. Deadman turned toward the ramp watching as the subject on everybody's mind came from backstage. The sight of her nearly took his breathe away. Morte's ring attire was mildly disheveled; her hair usually braided into a high ponytail was now loose and falling around her mask and shoulders. Wrapped around her left fist was a steel chain drenched in blood. As she got closer Undertaker could see a chilly satisfaction in her eyes.
The lazy pace she set as she walked to the ring only added to the feeling that Morte had gotten whatever it was that she wanted. He didn't move an inch as she slid under the bottom rope and rolled to her feet. The darkest horseman moved to stand in front of him bringing a previously unnoticed microphone close to her masked face, "Sorry to interrupt, but I think you and I are going to have to make something very clear to everyone". Undertaker looked down upon her with a raised brow.
Jim Ross who had been questioning the Phenom before she had interrupted brought his own microphone to bear, "are you talking about the relationship between yourself and Undertaker"? Abeebah noticed the twitch her bond mate gave but didn't call attention to it. "If that's what everyone is calling it", her tone was borderline snide, "I'm going to say this once real loud and clear like, cause' motherfucker's are slow". Unable to help himself Taker snorted. Ross looked his way, surprised to hear the usually stoic man show any amusement.
"I am in no way Deadman's woman, girlfriend, or potential wife", turning her gaze to the acid green orbs staring at her, she found approval and amusement in Undertaker's eyes. "And the footage from the graveyard", asked Ross. A growl worked its way up the deadman's throat causing the Oklahoma cowboy to wisely back away. Behind her mask Abeebah smirked and she dropped the blood stained chain at his feet catching his attention instantly. "Funny that, I couldn't find the sorry asses who followed us but I did find the sorry ass that approved that footage to be shown". Something akin to horrid disbelief shown in Ross's face.
There was only one man in the entire company who had that authority. Casually Morte tapped her now free hand on her hip, "being the good friend that I am I left some for you". Taker's gaze never left hers. He knew what she was offering without words, it was more than he ever expected from her considering their' unique situation. It was more than he had offered her, which made him feel lower than dirt especially the solace Abeebah had provided in her arms that night in the graveyard. But then he thought about the entire duration in which he had known Abeebah.
She had been nothing but patient with him and his brother, wise and understanding both when it counted and when it didn't. Could he be friends with this woman, could he trust this horseman when more often times than not he was betrayed, would he accept the offer of loyalty that she lay at his feet? Not breaking eye contact Undertaker bent down and picked up the chain. Straightening he wrapped the blood stained links around his right fist as he stepped into Morte's personal space. With each pass he deliberately brushed his hand over her thick mane; the demon of Death Valley had made his decision.
Then he grinned, a slow sly mischievous look that should have been charming. Instead it damn near frightened the cameramen filming them and terrified Jim Ross. Morte was only slightly amused by the expression. And suddenly the lights went out blanking the arena in its icy grip. She knew he was gone before the lights even came back on. It didn't really matter they would find each other later. Letting the crowd get over their' shock Abeebah stood stock still.
It took awhile for everyone to settle down but when they did their' attention was solely focused on her. Morte didn't even bat a lash, "Now that that's out of the way I have something else to say". Seeing he was no longer needed Ross got out of the ring and back to the announce table where his partner Jerry "the king" Lawler was waiting. "I know many of you were looking forward to a hardcore match between me and my brother Guerra", the fans roared in approval at the mention of what was sure to be a great match, "it ain't gonna happen kiddies sorry".
She ignored the crowd's disapproval, honestly the darkest horseman didn't give a damn, "you see, about a couple weeks ago Vince called me and Guerra had a tag team title shot at Unforgiven". Morte paused as some of her earlier rage seeped out of her control. Fist curled tightly the eldest horseman felt the blood from the chain slide down her fingers. "But the stipulation was that if we lost than Guerra and I would have to face each other in a hardcore match". "And oh did we lose, not because we were being beaten, no we lost because some two brain celled numb nuts interfered, but ok I wasn't mad about that shit happens and I didn't want to go after the titles anyway".
Not for the first time a metallic grating against icy tang entered Morte's voice, "It was the stipulation that got me irritated because believe me if we ever go at Guerra and I would tear each other apart". A universal shiver ran up each and everyone who heard her spines'. "But then Vince made a very stupid mistake, he shown something that was not meant to be seen". Abeebah's grip on the microphone was tight, "breached privacy terms in my contract and now has not only pissed off the dead man; he has ticked off the most calculated mind of the horsemen, Guerra, the most vicious, Viluppo, and the most talented, Lue". "But the biggest mistake Vince made was pissing off the baddest of them all", her voice became calm soft once more, "Me".