Hey everyone. Sorry it's been about a month since the last update. I've really been trying , but it's been a little slow. I apologize this chapter is not eventful, but will be setting up for some things.
Thank you to morrowsong and Idcam for the reviews on the last chapter.
Arriving at the arena the next afternoon, Mark and the girls were met by Glen as they made their way to Mark's locker room. "Hey, buddy. How's it going? Girls," Glen nodded at the sisters.
"Not bad. What's up, man?" Mark asked as he shook Glen's hand.
"Not much with me. Vince wants to see you when you get settled. He wants you to bring the girls with you," the other man replied.
Mark's eyes narrowed as his fist tightened around the strap of his duffle bag. What the hell had they done now? "Did he say why?" Mark's voice was gruff.
Glen held his hands up as if in surrender. "Hey dude, don't shoot the messenger. You know Vin Man gives the orders and we follow. All I know is he wanted to see you all. Anything beyond that, your guess is as good as mine."
"It's cool," Mark said, though his expression was hard as stone as he stared down at his daughters with steely eyes. "I'll drop my gear off. Then we'll go to Vince and there won't be any more surprises." He glanced at Glen before giving and accusatory stare at the girls.
"I swear, I haven't done anything," Reves proclaimed. She was already out of patience in regards to a meeting with the Chairman.
'"Like I said, I guess we'll find out soon enough. Won't we?" His look hardened as he spoke to her. He then turned to Glen, " I'll catch up with ya, man. What's on the card for tonight?"
"We got a tag match. Guerrero and Benoit," Glen answered.
"Alright. We'll go over some spots after I talk to Vince."
"Cool. See ya later," Glen nodded and parted ways from the three of them.
Mark released something between a sigh and a growl. "I don't know what this is all about, but girls, you better pray. Both of ya," Mark told them as they continued on to his dressing room.
Heather grew more apprehensive the closer they drew to Mr. McMahon's office. They hadn't made any transgressions against him that she could recall. She had even increased her efforts to circumvent his presence following the roller skating incident. The issues of her performing in the hall were simply ill timing.
They arrived at the door marked as Mr. McMahon's office. Mark knocked on the door with a meaty fist. His raps resulted in such crashing thuds that had the sisters not known better, they would assume he was aiming to pound the door in. Or perhaps he was.
"Come in!" the thundering voice called from the other side. "Good. Mark," Vince said, looking up from the scripts on his desk as they entered. "Young ladies," he nodded towards the sisters. "How are you?"
"What's this about, Vince?" Mark asked, wanting to cut to the chase.
"We'll get to that in just a moment. Have a seat." Vince gestured to the chairs positioned in front of his desk.
Mark appeared to be exasperated but flopped down on the metal folding chair, flanked by his daughters on either side.
"Now Mark, you know I don't care for things and people who waste time and aren't productive," Vince began, leading Mark to wonder why he was pussyfooting around the point then. "Over the past couple of months, your daughters have been traveling with you. I've let them in the arenas. They can interact with talent. They get the VIP treatment, really."
Ha! If that wasn't a crock. Especially coming from someone like Vince McMahon, Reves thought.
"I've given a lot, and I have no obligation to do so. Mark, the problem is this," he paused as if he was attempting to be tactful - a skill he was not famous for, "these girls have become a major distraction and a nuisance for many people backstage."
Mark breathed a heavy sigh as he toyed with his goatee. So he was giving them the boot. He had to admit, he wasn't surprised in the slightest. Perhaps -if he were honest - a little relieved as well. He knew it was inevitable given their antics and Vince's disdain for idle behavior. If anything did surprise him, it was that Vince had tolerated them this long.
"I don't like distractions and I don't like indolence. Therefore, I intend to remedy that straight away," Vince proclaimed.
The sisters' eyes met in a brief dread-filled glance. It seemed they were done for, without a doubt.
Panic began to stir inside Heather. If they were to return home, would her parents force her to resume her high school torment? She was still painstakingly coming to grips with everything that had transpired during that time.
For all her indifference, Reves possessed her own concerns. She was still very much entrenched in her entanglement with a tall, dark and handsome bad guy. She was not ready to terminate their little affair just yet.
"I'm sorry they've caused such problems here, Vince. That was not what I intended when I brought them along," Mark confessed, glancing at each girl in turn. "I'll have them on the next flight out, tomorrow."
"For what?" Vince asked in his gravelly tone.
"I know you don't want them here any longer. And-"
"When the hell did I say that?"
Every time you look at us, Reves wanted to remind him.
"Now, wait a minute. Yes, they're a distraction. Yes, they spend a lot of time not doing anything prolific. They've been a huge pain in my ass, quite frankly. But what better way to resolve all that than to instill a little work ethic in them, ey girls?" That flamboyant Mr. McMahon persona was rearing its head as he spoke.
Perplexed, Mark narrowed his gaze at his boss. "What exactly are you getting at here?" Vince was projecting that maddening twinkle from his eyes, which suggested that he was about to propose something completely insane.
"Well, here we have two beautifully vibrant, young ladies. Very fresh-faced and hip-"
"Vince! These are my kids," the larger man interrupted him. "And what the hell is the point of this?"
"The point is obvious, Mark. I want to use them. On TV," Vince stated matter of fact.
The three individuals sat across from the owner stunned. Reves's jaw was on the floor, while a hand came over Heather's mouth.
"You're shittin' me, right?" Mark questioned, astounded.
"No, I'm not. You know I don't kid around when it comes to business," the owner told him almost irritated that he would even enquire.
"They're just kids, Vince. They're not fucking wrestlers or even television talent! I can't let them go out there."
Vince raised an eyebrow. "Can't or won't?" He turned towards Reves. "Sweetheart, how old are you?"
"Nineteen. Sir," Reves replied in her most sickeningly, syrupy sweet tone and batted her thick eyelashes over her baby blues for added effect. She knew McMahon was an old perv, but she didn't mind throwing him a bone from a distance if it would benefit her. He could drool over her if he was going to make her a star. Whatever.
Her conduct didn't go unobserved by her father, who was glowering at her menacingly.
Vince cracked a devious smirk. "Alright. So you are all set to go!" The intimidating man locked his gaze on the dark-haired girl. "And this one. How about you, darling?"
His use of endearment made Heather's skin crawl. She had seen how the majority of the female talent were regarded and truth be told, she wasn't certain she wanted any portion of that. Most of all, she possessed immense stage fright despite her accolades in choir and theater. World Wrestling Entertainment was a different animal altogether.
"She's only seventeen, Vince! God damnit," her father shouted and she was grateful she didn't have to speak to the chairman.
"Alright, Mark. No need to get in a rage," Vince paused momentarily. "Hmmm, so we'll just have to keep her age out of public knowledge for now. When will she be eighteen?"
Heather knew she should have been offended that Mr. McMahon was speaking of her as if she were not present but she only felt relief as Reves interjected, much to their father's chagrin, " She just had her birthday in January."
"Well, no matter," Vince said dismissively as if he had instantly forgotten everything that had been previously stated. "I just want to remind you, Mark, that I did you a tremendous favor by allowing Sara to appear on TV. Hell, she didn't have any experience either and caught on fine after a couple weeks of training. Vince said, looking at the girls expectantly, particularly Heather who was timid as a rabbit.
"C'mon, Vince. If you're really that interested, hell, send them down to development. Don't just throw them into the fucking shark tank!" argued Mark.
"The issue is, I already have a storyline in mind that I'd like to get them started in."
"And what the hell would that be?" demanded the girls' father.
A simper stretched across the chairman's face that could pass for borderline deranged. Out of everything that had been discussed within the past fifteen minutes, not one of the attendees were prepared for the three letters that the so-called evil genius had uttered to them: nWo. The New World Order.
Reves couldn't contain the outburst that followed. "You've gotta be shitting me!" she exclaimed before breaking into a cackle, like a madwoman. Unbeknownst to her father and Vince, her laughter was drenched in delicious irony.
Heather blanched, her already pale face turning a ghostly white upon hearing this dastardly scheme. Her heart stopped, then started again, racing at the velocity of a steam engine. The sound of the blood rushing through her own ears drowned out the sound of her sister's laughter.
nWo. If one had asked her a few months prior, those letters would have been inconsequential. As it were, they were synonymous with a certain seven-foot behemoth. One whose mere existence seemed to render her to a simultaneous state of blithe elation and crippling terror. The only thing that brought Heather out of her headspace was her father's shouting.
"You're off your fucking rocker, McMahon!" Mark bellowed. "If you think I'm gonna let my kids be a part of these bullshit games, you're dead wrong."
"Mark, this is a business. Do you really think I would waste precious, time, money, and resources playing games?" Vince inquired with a sharpness to his voice that suggested he was offended by Mark even insinuating such a prospect.
"This is fucking absurd," Mark announced, leaning back in his chair. "Hall, Nash. Do any of them know about this shit?"
"Not yet. I figured you would react like this, so I wanted to speak with you first."
React was not the word. Mark wanted to lunge across the desk and choke the life from his boss.
"I'm ready. Let's do it!" Reves spouted suddenly.
"No!" Mark growled at her with a belligerent glare.
"No disrespect Mark, but she's of legal age. I can sign her if I damn well please. Now, I'd like the pair of them, but I'll take what I can get," Vince informed him.
Marks face clouded over with a seething rage. He sat there; fists clenched as he glowered at his oldest.
Turning away, Reves couldn't keep the grin from her plush lips. She relished the mere fact that her old man was madder than a hornet and there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it. Vince wanting to put them to work with Scott Hall and the rest of the boys was the cherry on the sundae. She knew of the professional beef between the kliq and members of the BSK, however friendly they may be in real life.
"It's getting late, I have other business matters to attend to," Vince spoke, drawing their attention to him. "Think it over, Mark. You have a few days off. Talk to Sara and I'll call you the day after tomorrow." That was their cue to be dismissed.
Mark got up abruptly from his chair and stomped through the door silently, his daughters in tow.
"This is going to be so awesome!" Reves gushed as Heather gave a weak apprehensive smile.
Mark abruptly spun around, pointing a finger at them. "Not a word of this to your mother until I talk to her," he commanded.
"Sure thing," Reves smirked.
"Yes, Sir," Heather demurred. This was a very precarious situation and she found it scathingly ironic that not one soul actually asked for her opinion on the matter.
"Mother fucking Vince!" he groused continuing on. He did not need to be burdened with this shit.
Vince grinned wickedly to himself. He knew he could get Mark to do what he wanted. He was his most loyal employee. He would do just about anything for this business. Just a little coaxing and he'd have everybody where he wanted them.
When Hall, Nash, and Waltman arrived (late, as per the norm) they were summoned immediately to the boss's office.
"You fucks have done it now. Good going, Kid," Scott teased.
"Me? It's not my fault that guy wanted to beat my ass because his girlfriend's a slut," Sean retorted.
That was the whole reason they were late. Sean had woken up at the chick's house that afternoon, not expecting her unknown boyfriend to come home early from his work trip and flipped shit. Kev and Scott had to come do damage control and back their buddy. How his friends always got themselves into this bullshit, Nash would never know. But he always came to the rescue regardless. They were his brothers. That's what he had to do.
"Well, now we're gonna get it from Vinnie," Scott continued to goad him as they arrived at Vince's door.
McMahon gave them a derisive look when they entered, but he swiftly let it go. Getting the opportunity to put his plan into action was giving him too much pleasure. Vince greeted them, "Gentleman. Glad you could find the time to make it here today."
The three men glanced at one another. Of course, his sarcastic infliction would be present.
"What can we do for ya, boss?" Scott asked as they sat down.
"I like that, Scott. What can you three do for me?" he intoned in his evil boss persona. He chuckled darkly, then returned to his normal self. "It's more of what I have for you all."
Nash felt the muscles in his face twitch as he tried not to let his expression distort in aggravation. If this was anything like the other somethings Vinnie Mac had to offer, he was positive he didn't want a damn thing to do with it. "So, what is this something?" he asked attempting not to sound hostile.
"I say you men have been going pretty strong. But I just can't help but feel that something is missing."
"Like Hulk?" Nash ventured.
"No." Vince shot him down and Nash's face fell. "What I'm thinking of is a kind of sexy feminine mystique."
The three men exchanged glances, then eyed Vince wearily.
"You mean, Goldust?" Hall quipped with a snicker, leading Kid to join in.
The owner, however, didn't appreciate Hall's joke as evidence by his dour appearance. "No," he said flatly. "I would like not one, but two new additions to the group and yes, they will both be female."
The trio smirked at one another. Now he was talking!
"I'm down for that," Kid declared. "So, who do we get? Maybe Stacy Keibler?"
"Or Torrie Wilson," Nash suggested. She was beautiful -as was Stacy- and he enjoyed working with her in WCW.
"No. Unfortunately, they are both currently involved in storylines that are going quite well. Nothing is set in stone, but the two I have in mind are a little more…unknown."
He meant green. The men tried to recall who – if anyone- had joined the roster recently. Or perhaps it was a call up from developmental?
"So, who are these chicks, boss?" Scott inquired.
Smiling, Vince delayed his answer a few moments. Partly for dramatic effect and partly because he was trying to recall their names, particularly the dark-haired one. "Reves and Heather Calaway!" Vince declared.
"You've gotta be shittin' me!" Kevin roared like an angry bear, nearly lunging forward from his seat, "Is this a Goddamn rib?"
Vince stared at him humorlessly. "That seems to be the phrase of the day. No, I am not shitting you, Kevin. And this is not a rib. I assure you, I am extremely serious," Vince said in a sobering tone.
Nash froze. The two names in the world he least expected to hear had hit his ears. He felt as if someone had punched him in the gut and kicked his feet out from under him because the world was falling away from him. Kevin sat back in the chair, slack-jawed and stunned. This was it. He had waited for this for nearly a decade. Vince McMahon had finally cracked and gone off the deep end.
Kevin eyed Scott within his peripherals. His friend was laboring to mask the smirk on his face as his tongue manipulated the toothpick in his mouth. Kevin was sure his friend was probably sporting a massive hard-on as they spoke.
"Are you sure this is a good call, Boss?" the dark-haired man questioned while feigning protest. They were green, alright. Greener than a wasted leprechaun on St. Paddy's Day. What did he care anyway? They all knew the drill. Most women were there solely based on their looks. There were only a select few who could actually carry themselves as performers in the ring. He would get to work with his little blonde vamp and he could hardly contain himself. He continued to maintain his suave, bad guy image throughout the meeting, but things had just gotten very interesting indeed.
"Wait. Who are they again?" Kid questioned. The names sounded familiar but he wasn't sure from where.
"Taker's kids," Nash informed him in a disgruntled tone. "Speaking of Mark, he's never gonna go for this shit. So, what's the point?" he surmised, turning towards Vince.
Vince nodded in agreement. "Mark's a tough egg to crack. Which is why I spoke with him first. He's not completely sold, but I think he'll come around."
"Not sold?" Kevin retorted. "I'm not sold because this is a sack of horse shit! I'm not playing babysitter to a couple of rotten brats being strung along on Daddy's bootstraps."
Kevin felt contrite over his words, but he didn't know how else to react. This fucking ignorant man. Vince thought himself a billionaire genius, and at times, he was. This was not one of those times. These girls didn't belong anywhere near this business as it were. Just throw them out of the frying pan and into the fire. Sure. Why the hell not?
"Well, it's a good thing you are not in control, isn't it, Nash?" Vince sneered, his face contorted in fury.
Kevin ran a hand shakily through his hair. No, he wasn't in control, damnit. So much for his grand scheme to distance himself from the little girl. He couldn't escape this shit. The more he tried to dig himself out, the more he got buried. What the fuck was wrong with the world? Next thing he knew, he'd be teaching her to take bumps and all that shit. Yeah, that's exactly what he needed. Physical contact. Touching her. Showing her how to…motherfuck. His mind had quickly shifted from wrestling for sport to pinning her underneath him and ravishing her oh, so tenderly.
He was repulsed by himself at that moment. Though nothing like he felt last night when he found himself in the shower, jacking his dick as he envisioned the supple body beneath that robe. He knew he had already resolved to push her from his head, but there was a big difference between fantasizing and acting on it, right?
Wrong. He had already fed himself that bullshit line. His only hope was that Mark would say no to this absurd proposition. It would by no means fix his dilemma, but it may make it easier to neglect her existence if he didn't have to work with her in such close proximity.
This was going to blow up in everybody's face. Kevin knew it.
I'm not crazy about this chapter, but I needed to insert it for things to come later. Sadly, no interaction between our main ship here. Unfortunately, none in the next chapter either. I know it kind of breaks up the momentum. Please don't hate me too much, kay? Next chapter I will be introducing a 'new' character who didn't appear until the sequel for the original.