Dark Saviour

Chapter 28 - Random Confrontations and Babysitting Chickens

….

A/N: I had fun writing this chapter. I went a little weird, but I think I can be forgiven for that. Enjoy.

….

"There you are."

"There who is?"

"You."

"Me?"

"Yes, you."

"Why me?"

"I've been looking for you."

"Why me?" Kane repeated, looking between Shawn and Taker.

"Because you said you'd take Bob tonight," Shawn explained ignoring the odd look he got from Undertaker.

"I didn't say I would do that," Kane replied, shaking his head.

"Yes, you did," Shawn insisted as he dangled the rubber chicken in Kane's face. "Now, you're going to take him so that I can go to my match."

"I'm not taking that stupid chicken," Kane said as he pushed the rubber chicken away from him.

Shawn's eyes filled with tears, instantly making Kane regret his words. Shawn brought the rubber chicken to his chest, stroking its head. "Bob is not a stupid chicken," he sniffed.

"Of course he isn't," Taker agreed. "How could you say such a thing about Bob, Glen?"

"It's a rubber chicken!"

"He still has feelings," Undertaker said, enjoying the look of disbelief on his brother's face.

"It's made of rubber."

"Your point being?" Taker asked, looking at Kane sincerely.

"Things that are made out of rubber don't have feelings," Kane insisted. He couldn't believe that his brother was siding with Shawn on this. Has he gone insane? Has having Jeff dump his sorry ass pushed him over the edge?

"How dare you discriminate against those made of rubber?" Undertaker replied in shock.

Kane threw his hands up in the air in defeat and went to grab Bob from Shawn. When the Heart-Break Kid backed away from him, Kane looked at the smaller man in confusion. "Why aren't you giving him to me?"

"You don't deserve to look after Bob. I can't trust you to be good to him," Shawn answered, tightening his hold on the rubber chicken.

"What?" Kane asked, not quite able to follow the sudden change in The Heart-Break Kid's attitude.

"How do I know that you want start using his as . . . as a football?"

"I would never use that thing as a football. The shape's all wrong, it would never fly properly."

"And now you're squashing his dreams of becoming a football," Shawn sniffed, tears once again filling his eyes. "You are definitely not getting Bob with that attitude," he scoffed before turning to the Deadman. "Will you look after Bob for me, Mark?"

"Of course I will," Taker replied, bowing slightly as Shawn handed the rubber chicken over to him. "I'd be honoured to protect him from Glen."

"Thank you, Mark," Shawn smiled, hugging the Deadman enthusiastically. "You only need to watch him till Fred doesn't want to kill him anymore," he added before skipping off down the hallway.

As soon as Shawn was gone and they could faintly hear his music playing, Undertaker threw Bob at Kane before walking down the hallway.

"Where the hell are you going?" Kane yelled, running to catch up.

Taker looked over at Kane, smiling. "I've got to get ready for my match."

"Why are you leaving the chicken with me?"

"I've got to get ready for my match," Undertaker repeated. "Besides I can't be seen carrying around a rubber chicken. People would start to think I'm as crazy as Shawn."

"But . . ."

"Besides, do you honestly believe that I would willingly look after a rubber chicken? Come on," Taker shook his head. "It's made of rubber."

If it was Jeff asking you . . . Kane thought, raising his eyebrow. "But you said . . ."

"Oh, please. Once you've been around Shawn for as long as I have been lately, you just have to agree with him sometimes," Taker smiled. "And this was one of those times that you needed to humour him."

"You're crazy," Kane said, shaking his head. "I swore that you lost it."

"Just playing the part, brother," Taker smiled, patting Kane on the back. "Now, just look after Shawn's chicken till his other chicken doesn't want to kill it, okay? Thanks."

"Wait . . ."

"You'll be fine. Remember it's only made out of rubber," With that, Taker disappeared around a corner, leaving Kane alone with the rubber chicken.

Kane looked down at the thing in his hand. Yeah, I can do this. It won't be hard at all. It's only made of rubber. Nothing bad can happen, he thought, laughing to himself. Kane shook his head, his laughter dying when he saw the rubber chickens face change. Did he just smile at me? Did he just smile evilly?

"What the hell?"

….

"You ready to go?" Matt asked as he shoved the last of his ring gear into his bag.

"Not yet," Jeff answered, trying to stifle a yawn.

"Why not? You're obviously tired."

"I have to wait for Shawn."

"Why?" Matt asked again, taking up a spot next to Jeff, who was currently watching the monitor.

"I've got Fred."

"You've got Fred? As in, the rubber chicken, Fred?"

Jeff nodded as he pointed to the space beside him. Sure enough, there sat Fred the rubber chicken, facing the screen. It appeared as though he was watching the monitor intently, silently cheering for Shawn in his own rubber chicken way. "He's been sitting there since Shawn's match started. Figured he'd like to watch his . . . the match," Jeff shrugged, unable to think of how to finish that sentence.

Matt merely nodded. "Uh-huh," he turned to face the monitor, just in time to catch the big finish. Both men gave a cheer when Shawn got the three count and was named victor.

"As soon as Shawn gets back here, we can go," Jeff said.

"Then we could be here for a while. I'm going to head to the coke machine for something to drink. You want something?"

"Why would it take long?"

"Come on. It's Shawn we're talking about. I'm sure Rey's waiting for him at the gorilla position to congratulation him," Matt explained, winking at Jeff.

"That's true," Jeff nodded, catching Matt's hidden meaning. "And no, I don't need anything."

"If you say so. I'm not sharing if you change your mind," Matt replied. "See you in a bit."

"See you."

"Oh, and by the way, if I see Mark, I'm asking him."

Jeff threw the closest thing to him at his brother, which just happened to be the rubber chicken. Fortunately for Matt, he managed to get out of the room before the rubber chicken could do any damage. Shaking his head, Jeff got up to retrieve Fred, then returned to his spot on the bench to watch the next match. As soon as he sat down, he heard the unforgettable toll of the bell and he looked up to catch Undertaker making his entrance.

I wish you would talk to me, Mark, Jeff thought as he watched Taker walk down the ramp toward the ring in that slow, powerful, unsettling way of his. Jeff shivered involuntarily.

"You know what they say about shivers."

Jeff shivered again at the sound of the one voice he had been hoping to never hear again. "Hi, John. How are you?"

"Oh, I'm fine. Besides the fact that I got my ass handed to me a couple days ago and was left for dead."

"What?" Jeff asked, finally turning to look up at Cena. Even though he wished the worst thing in the world to happen to the guy, Jeff couldn't believe what he saw. There were bruises and a few cuts along his jaw and hairline, while even more of them decorated his arms. "What the hell happened to you?" he blurted out.

Cena shrugged. "Happened to get on the wrong side of a badass."

"That would be an understatement."

"But it's all good."

"If you say so?" Jeff replied, turning away from Cena.

"Aren't you curious as to why I was attacked? And by whom?"

"Should I care?" Jeff asked, feeling his stomach drop as he wondered where Cena was going with this.

"No, I guess not. But it was the guy who drove Chris insane."

"Chris? Chris who?"

"Benoit silly," Cena smiled.

That had Jeff whipping around to face the man beside him. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Oh, didn't you know?" Cena asked innocently. "I thought that was common knowledge."

"What don't I know?"

"That Chris was driven mad by his secret lover who beat him senselessly," Cena explained.

"What secret lover? Chris was married."

"So were Rey and Shawn when they got together," Cena retorted.

"You've got to be kidding me," Jeff turned away in disgust.

"If you say so," Cena said, mimicking Jeff as he got up and headed toward the door. "But, let me ask you this. Did you ever wonder why Mark seemed to be so upset after Chris died?"

"What are you implying?"

"Hey, look. It's the walking pothole."

"Excuse me?" Cena asked as he turned to look at the new comers.

"Oops, I wasn't supposed to call you that when you were around," Shawn replied, putting a finger to his lips as if to take back what he said.

"What did you call me?" Cena asked.

"Nothing," Shawn replied with innocent eyes, quickly moving past Cena so as to avoid his probing stare.

"Bull shit," Cena snapped. "What did you call me?"

"A pothole," Jericho answered, shoving Cena aside.

"And why is he calling me a pothole?"

"Because that's what you are," Shawn blurted out.

"Oh, shush, Shawn," Rey scolded, sitting down next to Jeff. "Be nice."

"And why am I a pothole?"

"It's a Canadian thing," Rey answered.

"Oh, really?"

"Yes, it is," Jericho replied. "Since I'm the one who started it."

"I see," Cena said, his brow rose. He failed to see how being called a pothole was amusing nor how it was Canadian. "May I ask why?"

"I think we were discussing how annoying you were," Jericho answered, tilting his head to one side in an attempt to remember.

"No, we were trying to figure out a name to call him," Jeff stated, earning everyone's attention.

"Oh, right," Shawn beamed as he picked up Fred. "Bastard is too special and ass was offensive to donkeys."

"Hush, Shawn," Rey scolded. "John doesn't need to know all the details."

"Of course he does," Shawn replied, waving off Rey's scold. "Anyway, it was then that Jericho put forth the idea of calling you a pothole," he smiled.

Cena turned to face Jericho, his brow raised in confusion, unable to figure out how the guy who was supposed to have loved him would call him that. He stared at the other Superstar, his eyes betraying the hurt he felt while asking the unspoken question.

"Nobody likes potholes," Jericho stated simply, shrugging his shoulders as he sat down on the other side of Jeff.

"And when was this decided?"

"When Jericho dumped your sorry ass," Jeff answered, not caring about the consequences it would bring him later.

"He didn't dump me," Cena replied, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Oh, yes he did. I was there, remember?" Jeff said, smiling at Jericho slightly. "Hell, it wasn't the easiest thing to watch."

"Why not?" Shawn asked his curiousity peaked.

"Because," Jeff shrugged. "He couldn't say the words. He was floundering and would have started to beg for his forgiveness if I hadn't stopped him."

"How could you?" Shawn turned quickly to stare at Jericho.

"I was weak," Jericho shrugged. "So, I asked Jeff for help."

"And I helped him dump his sorry ass."

"I am still here, you know," Cena interrupted.

"So you are," Cena whipped around to see Matt standing behind him, his arms folded across his chest. "But the question is, why are you still here?" he asked.

"I had been trying to have a private talk with Jeff," Cena replied nonchalantly.

"Do you still want to talk to the pothole, Jeff?" Matt asked, looking past Cena, to glance at his brother.

Jeff shook his head. "Nope."

"Then I suggest you leave, pothole," Matt said sternly.

"What if I refuse?" Cena challenged.

"Then I'm going to have to kick your ass out of here," Matt replied.

"Not before we kick your ass," Shawn added, encompassing Rey and Jericho in his statement.

"Is that how it is?" Cena asked, mentally figuring out his odds.

"That's how it is," Jeff answered.

"So be it," Cena snapped, deciding it was best to leave things as they were. He was badly outnumbered and already injured. He would come back for Jeff later and make him regret this exchange. Glaring, Cena whipped around and exited the room.

"That was fun," Shawn smiled brightly once Cena was out of the room.

"Oh, Shawn," Rey sighed, shaking his head.

"What?" Shawn asked. "It was."

"I know," Rey chuckled. "That's why I'm not scolding you too badly for it."

"Oh," Shawn said, sitting back to think over what Rey had said.

"That's different," Jeff replied, blinking in disbelief.

"I know, scary," Jericho nodded in agreement. "Never thought that would happen."

"Yeah," Matt smiled before turning to Jeff. "So, what did John want to talk to you about?"

"Nothing," Jeff shook his head. "He's just trying to throw his weight around."

"Really? How so?" Jericho asked his brow furrowed. "He's not threatening you or anything, is he?"

"No, why would you say that?"

"No particular reason," Jericho shrugged.

"There has to be a reason as to why you asked him that," Matt replied, giving Jericho a strange look.

"It's just that . . .," Jericho paused. "He . . . he threatened me on several occasions."

"He did what?" Shawn yelled, standing up quickly.

"He threatened me a couple times," Jericho shrugged. "That's why I asked Jeff if he was now threatening him. I was worried."

"How could you hang around that guy when he's threatening you?" Matt asked, unable to believe that Jericho would do that.

"He wasn't like that at the beginning. He only got like that later. Besides, he threatened to hurt the ones I cared about if I didn't do as he said," Jericho answered, turning to look at Jeff. "So, is he threatening you, Jeff?"

"No," Jeff shook his head. "He hasn't threatened me."

"But you said he was throwing his weight around?"

"He's just trying to intimidate me," Jeff said, smiling past the guilt and fear he felt. "He just wants me to back down in my pursuit of the gold when I get back."

"Are you sure?" Matt asked his brow furrowed in worry. "Is that all he's been doing to you?"

"Yes, Matt. That's all."

"You'd tell me if there was more, right?"

"I . . ." Jeff paused.

"He has been doing more to you, hasn't he?" Jericho said, leaning closer to Jeff.

"And what if he is?" Jeff replied before he could think better of it, his eyes downcast.

"What's he been doing to you, Jeff?" Matt asked, anger flaring up in his eyes. "I'll kill that bastard."

"Pothole," Shawn corrected.

"Whatever," Matt snapped.

"It's nothing, really," Jeff answered. "He's just told me to do a couple things when I return and that, if I didn't comply he'd hurt you," he said, skirting around the truth as he looked up at Matt.

"Me? Why the hell would he threaten me? He knows I can kick his ass," Matt snapped.

"Yeah," Jeff shrugged, not wanting to remember what he had seen happen to Shannon. "I know that," he smiled, though not quite believing in it.

"Oh, Jeff," Matt sighed, kneeling down in front of his brother. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because I couldn't," Jeff replied.

"Why not?" Matt asked his expression worried. "Why couldn't you tell me? You know you can tell me anything."

"I . . . I didn't want to appear weak," Jeff admitted.

"I would never think that you're weak."

"I know but . . ."

"But he told you that Matt would think that you were," Jericho finished.

Both Matt and Jeff glanced over at Jericho. "What?"

"That's how the guy starts. He makes you feel weak in the eyes of others, that way, he can easily bend you to his will," Jericho explained.

"Is that why you've been acting so strangely the past couple months?" Matt asked, turning back to face Jeff.

"Kind of . . ."

"That bastard . . ."

"Pothole," Shawn interrupted.

"Whatever," Matt snapped. "I'm going to kill him."

"No, Matt," Jeff yelled, quickly looking up at his brother. "You can't."

"Why not?" Matt asked, anger and concern evident in his voice. "He's hurt you, hasn't he?"

Jeff didn't answer immediately. He glanced away for a second before meeting his brother's gaze again. "Because he isn't just threatening you any more."

"Who else is he threatening, Jeff?" Rey asked soothingly.

"I can't say."

"Why not?" Jericho asked, looking at Jeff in confusion.

"Because I don't want to hurt him more."

"Hurt who, Jeff?" Jericho said his brow furrowed.

Jeff shook his head. "I can't."

"Who is he, Jeff?" Matt insisted.

"Please, don't ask me about it, Matt," Jeff pleaded, giving his older brother the puppy dog eyes.

"Fine," Matt surrendered. "But you should tell someone."

"Someone already knows," Jeff replied, looking up at the monitor.

….

Undertaker walked down the hallway, his mind elsewhere. He had just finished his match with Edge and was hoping to have a nice break afterward since the next two months were going to be hell.

God, how I wish this could go faster. The sooner I'm gone, the sooner Jeff will be free of John's oppression.

Taker stepped into the locker room and stopped short when his gaze fell on Kane. "What the hell happened to you?"

"Nothing," Kane replied.

"Bull," Undertaker snorted, shaking his head. He quickly looked over his brother, chuckling. "You're covered in cuts and bruises. It looks like Hornswaggle attacked you with his miniature toy solders."

"I wasn't attacked," Kane replied, shaking his head.

"Yeah, if you want to convince me of that, you should stop your eyes from darting around the room like a scared toddler," Undertaker replied, moving over to his locker so that he could start changing out of his ring gear.

"My eyes aren't darting around," Kane insisted.

"Right," Taker said, rolling his eyes.

"It's the truth."

"Sure," Taker replied. "By the way, where's Bob?"

"Um," Kane said as he looked over at a locker with fear. "He's locked in that chest."

"Why?"

"Because."

"Because what?"

"Because I don't think Fred wants to kill Bob," Kane answered.

Undertaker looked over at Kane, giving him a weird look. "What?"

"Fred doesn't want to kill Bob."

"And you know this, how?"

"He told me so."

Taker tilted his head slightly, trying to understand his brother. "How the hell did he tell you, Glen? He's made of rubber."

"He's evil."

"He's rubber."

"He's made of both," Kane said, his eyes darting between the box and Taker.

"Glen, you're insane."

"Not as insane as that chicken," Kane replied, staring at Undertaker with huge eyes.

"Glen, it's a rubber chicken," Taker said, enunciating every word. "He's not real."

"You're just saying that cause you didn't get attacked by him."

"What you're saying doesn't make sense."

Kane looked up at Undertaker, his expression serious. "You would understand if he told you that it isn't because Fred wants to kill him that he's here. Bob wants to kill Fred."

….

A/N: It's the attack of the insane rubber chickens!