A/N: Well it's been awhile since I updated this fic so I think its time to finally add another chapter. Hopefully I'll get plenty of feedback. –Rei
Jeffery Nero Hardy was nervous. Now this was nothing new seeing as the more eccentric half of the Hardy boys was always a nervous ball of energy. Always on edge and always ready to do something largely considered stupid. But the artist of team extreme could usually keep a handle on said energy, honing it into a finely sharpened weapon of mayhem that he used inside the squared circle on a regular basis. However, right now the blond/pink haired young man was almost at the end of his rope watching Morte and Guerra make a hasty retreat from a backstage monitor. His brother didn't quite understand why he was so attached to Viluppo, let alone her other slightly less insane siblings.
But then again, Matt was less sensitive then Jeff, and could never quite understand the insanity that drove the younger Hardy. Jeff's girlfriend and her wily siblings on the other hand, did. 'Well maybe not Abeebah.' The high flyer thought wryly. The eldest horseman was the ultimate pragmatist and stayed well enough away from emotional issues, which confused the living hell out of him, seeing as she was related to one emotional issue on two legs and best friends with another. It was because of this that at one or another that he thought her often times cavalier if outright cold way of dealing with feelings was a mask that she would drop eventually.
But after dating Morte's youngest sibling for months, he began to realize that it wasn't a front. Jeff as always in his boarder line suicidal way even worked up the nerve to ask the scarred woman why she did it. She indulged his curiosity without so much a blink, "same reason you do crazy shit, you need it, just like regardless of how much I don't understand I still need them." She had informed him. Even now watching the obviously hindered gait of the eldest horseman, Jeff didn't know whether to pity or be envious of her almost utter lack of feelings.
If having to deal with others problems when she had enough on her own plate was the cost of having limited emotions, then Jeff certainly wouldn't want to be that way. Not that he would ever willing give up the rush of what he had anyway. Then again in Abeebah he found an acceptance that was rare, and unlike Matt or even his other 'friends' and family she felt no need to change him in the slightest nor had she even tried. And in the high flyer's mind that made Morte a better person then most. Not everyone could accept someone as they were, good or ill.
And now Morte was putting herself in very real danger. If not from the brothers who would probably see her actions as interference then from Paul Bearer. And the manipulative mutated slug would definitely go after her, not to mention Mankind whom she had flattened quite skillfully with a steel chair. The fact that she wasn't a hundred percent didn't help either. Jeff bit his lip, honestly considering the thought of getting involved when his girlfriend had explicitly told him not to. But then the two horsemen headed to the garage and out of the camera's sight.
Abeebah was barely holding on by a thread by the time she and Brandon made it to the car. Her younger brother had a tight grip on her arm, preventing the eldest Johns from collapsing. The darkest horseman's feet had nearly gave out on her when they had made a b line up the ramp, but Guerra had noticed instantly and grabbed her arm in the pretense of making her go faster. There was no stopping gravity by the time the second eldest horseman opened the back door. Abeebah couldn't prevent the veil on the brothers' end from dropping, and jolting aches from being dropped on the head finally overcome her steely will. Brandon easily caught his elder sister, barely cowed that she chose now to lose it.
Evan and Delia on the other hand were not so calm. They were nearly frantic to get their' fallen leader into the rental that the youngest horseman had arranged for them. The younger half of the horsemen pulled her into the back seat and shut the door behind her, while Brandon took to the driver's seat, speeding away into the night. He didn't dare glance back, heading to the hotel address that their' little businessman had arranged for them to stay in. McMahon would be on the hunt for them soon enough, but they needed to be prepared.
'Armed with a good night's sleep and more contingencies than an eight figure lawyer,' the hammer of the horsemen thought somewhat satirically. Viluppo sat in the backseat with Morte's head in her lap, and a cold compress against the dark horseman's forehead. They had prepared for this eventuality, ever mindful of empathy that existed between Abeebah and the brothers of the night. Still, Delia's hand shook as she tended to her only sister. And Evan couldn't help but glance back from his seat, shot gunning for his brother.
They arrived at the hotel some time later, luckily without incident, however the eldest horseman was still unconscious. Brandon had to carry her from the parking lot, to the elevator, and all the way to the rather expensive bedroom suite that Evan had arranged for her. Usually the four siblings would share rooms like the other wrestlers, but the youngest horseman thought it best that they each got their' own room. And each of the younger Johns would take turns watching over Abeebah until she was well enough to look after herself. The second eldest horseman placed his comatose sibling on the king sized bed facing the balcony.
And for a moment, Brandon felt a zing of jealousy, only for it to be squashed resoundingly when said sister emitted a pained moan. Removing the porcelain white mask Abeebah had worn to the show, he immediately moved to turn on the television to see what happened since he and his fellow horsemen made their' hasty retreat. Delia picked up the phone to order them all food, and Evan pulling the heavy covers over his sister's shivering form joined Brandon on the antique couch in front of the TV.
Taker lay in the center of the ring, breathing in harsh pants, eyes closed, and unable to think straight. Kane, flush with victory over his brother, had already moved toward where Stone Cold now stood staring at the very person who was likely to take his title. His usually easy gate was now mechanically stiff, he could feel blackness creeping up on the edges of his vision, making the chrisom demon want to either faint or throw up. Obviously, Tomb stoning Undertaker wasn't the best idea.
The big red machine quickly shoved the agony into a deep dark corner in the back of his mind, staring at the rattlesnake. The bald headed redneck had removed his headset and was boring holes into his mismatch gaze with his mouth slightly agape. Yet still there was a steely determination in those Texas sky blue eyes, and Kane aimed to break it. He paid no mind to his cackling father, nor to his equally certifiable lackey.
Both eyes blue and green burned with a threat that the younger Calloway didn't bother voicing, even as he brought his aching arms up slowly, Kane dropped them down signaling the pyros to go off in the turnbuckles. Bearer looked on in pride, even as Mankind Maguire managed to join him at ring side. And though Kane didn't notice, those watching him did. To the spectators save an informed few, the big red machine had screwed his own brother, despite Morte's best efforts. Vince was all smug smiles either way.
He got to his feet straightening out his jacket, and headed back to his temporary base of operations. He had planning to do. He had already decided on the where and when, June 28th, King of the Ring, Stone Cold Steve Austin would defend his title. Suddenly, just a few paces from his 'office' the salt and pepper haired man froze. And a spontaneous burst of antagonism bled across his vision, 'now what to do with those meddling kids?' "Mr. McMahon?" Snapping out of his momentary murderous thoughts Vince glanced at the older of his two stooges' the first ever intercontinental champion Pat Patterson.
The slightly older man looked vaguely concerned at his employer, and Vince smothered the snort that wanted to work its way passed his lips. Years of clawing his way to the top of this industry had the sports tycoon with no doubts that the thing his once star attraction was worried about was his paycheck. It didn't matter if they had been in business together for almost since the beginning, it didn't matter that once upon a time Vince called Patterson friend, and it didn't matter that time and power had turned both he and his once friend into corporate monsters.
Shaking off the last visages of useless musings, Vince trekked the last few feet to his 'office.' And as soon as his hand came into contact with the doorknob, the millionaire hissed in pain, and tried to pull his hand away. Unfortunately for Vince the stubborn piece of hardware refused to give under the full brunt of his weight. Hot unbidden tears began to roll down his face, the McMahon patriarch's hand quickly searing to the knob. He screamed for help, causing Patterson and the cameraman whom had been following them to panic. Uselessly they also screamed for help, Vince's associate trying to help his employer pull away from the white hot piece of hardware but too no avail.
In their' hotel room the remaining horsemen laughed till fat tears drenched salty paths down their' cheeks. They watched in morbid delight as the orchestrator of their sister's pain fruitlessly squealed in agony. The elder McMahon's minions were worthless as Viluppo's trap was sprung. A doorknob transformed into a white hot poker, that Vince as unable to let go of thanks in part to industrial strength heat sealant. 'Its times like these that I wish I ordered pop corn.' Delia thought with a red cheek grin. Her brothers too were smirking ear to ear.
Well, Evan still was, but Brandon took one glance to where Abeebah still lay, dead to the world, and his maliciously amused mood dropped promptly. Though the retaliation against McMahon had gone flawlessly revenge wouldn't undo the damage that had already undoubtedly been done. At the end of the day Kane and Undertaker would still be at each other's throats and his sister would pay the price in pain because of it. Quickly turning from the sight lest he ruin his younger siblings' good mood, Brandon tried to focus on the futile attempts of McMahon trying to not pass out in sheer agony.
After an indefinite amount of time, and more than a dozen medical personnel attempted to coerce, chisel, and outright rip the business tycoon's hand from the white hot knob, someone finally grew a brain and called 911. The paramedics rushed to the scene not long after, with a band saw and cut the piece of hardware from the door. By this time Vince's screams were reduced to pious sobs and sheets of tears.
They discovered the rather intricate rig behind the door. A blow torch was taped to the door with a thick hose attached to the nozzle and fed into the shorn off part of door, where the knob used to be. No one dared touch it, seeing as the heat coming off of it was near unbearable. Brandon raised an eyebrow at his younger sister, the question lingering in his green/hazel gaze. Delia lifted her thin shoulders in a graceless shrug, "you said, "Make it painful", you didn't specify the how painful." The second eldest horseman snorted but didn't argue.
Evan on the other hand looked worried, "as amusing and appropriate as that was Delia, McMahon is going to be on the hunt and with us as the prime suspects." His second third eldest sibling didn't disagree but she wasn't about to be cowed by her only younger sibling. "Then we have the advantage." She replied succulently, "he'll be coming to us, and not to mention Vince will be too mad to think straight." Now Evan didn't argue with her logic but added his own, "Beebs has enough to deal with the Taker and Kane, we don't need to add on the asshole as well." Seeing she wasn't going to win the argument Viluppo sighed.
The next morning Abeebah woke up before the sun with the mother of all headaches. She groaned, unable to see straight for a grand total of ten minutes. Finally after the fifth attempt of trying to get up on her own the darkest horsemen gave up and flopped into the giant white and gold pillows stacked behind her. "Abeebah?" She glanced over toward where the low voice originated and was confronted with the sight of her youngest brother dressed in his 'ring attire'. In one hand Evan held a glass of water and fisted in the other Abeebah could only assume were some type of painkillers. Or at least that was what she feverous hoped for.
"Abeebah?" this time her brother's voice was much closer, as he sat down on the edge of the bed. "The brothers?" she croaked questionably. For a moment the littlest horseman didn't say anything, not sure if he should, but looking at his sister's glazed hazel glare was enough to warn him not to take that route. "Kane won, and I don't know where Taker went after the match, no one does." The light skinned boy stalled anymore of Abeebah's questions by prying open her jaw and feeding her the painkillers he had bought her. Then, helping her sit up, the youngest horseman assisted Abeebah in downing the glass of water.
The dark beauty took deep gulps of air as Evan helped her slowly lower herself back onto the pillows. Dark eyes cast down overtly at the coverlet he was currently pulling over his sister's form; he deliberately missed the clenched teeth glare Abeebah was currently shooting his way. "Slaughter has ordered an interview with Brandon, Delia will be staying here and checking in on you." He told her once she was settled. "And you?" "I'm going with Brandon, McMahon might be out of commission for now but since when has that stopped him?" His sister smirked weakly in agreement even as he got up to leave. However just as he opened the door he was shoved back inside by a seemingly livid Undertaker.