This chapter should be more interesting, I hope.
Thanks to Idcam for the review.
As he had stressed, Vince wasted little time getting everyone to work. The very next day saw Hall and Nash meeting Mark and his daughters down in the ring.
Mark was already irritated, and he narrowed his eyes at the Outsiders as they came to the ring, tardy as expected.
Heather watched as Nash effortlessly stepped over the top rope. Her heartbeat quickened once she had seen him approaching. She possessed this feeling of unrequited longing that she still had yet to comprehend. She stole a glance at him and the heat rushed to her cheeks. She had been subjected to glimpsing several wrestlers with their hulking physiques and charming exteriors, but there was just a superiority about him. He was splendidly…beautiful. After a moment, she forced the preposterous musings from her head. There she stood, waxing poetic while she was convinced, he merely thought of her as a foolish child.
As Nash entered, he attempted to keep his attention off the dark-haired girl, but he noticed her fleeting gaze on him. The soft, pink glow highlighting her pale cheeks was almost enough to drive him insane. He desperately needed to get a hold of himself, otherwise, he wouldn't make it through this session. He shifted his eyes to the sister, who was standing behind Mark, making what could be considered an obscene gesture towards Scott with her tongue. Hall smirked subtly at her, leaving Kevin rolling his eyes.
"Are we ready to get started? I have other things to take care of," Mark groused.
"Sure thing, Chico," Scott told him.
"I already have them warmed up and stretched," Mark informed them.
"Great," Kevin said unenthused. "What do you want to get started with?" he asked, leaning casually against the turnbuckle in one corner.
"Just a basic back bump. That's the most preliminary tool," Mark stated obviously. He didn't see any point in going to invasive. They were not going to be getting into any real action – at least not yet.
Kevin shrugged and nodded in agreement.
"Alright. First thing I'm gonna show you is yer basic back bump. This is how you would fall when you're going back to prevent yourself from getting hurt," Mark told his daughters as he stepped towards the center of the ring. "Now, when you do any break fall, remember, it's the result of force from your opponent, or whoever is attacking you. So, it has to be impactful, but not reckless. The main objective of a successful back bump is to deliver that impact, but protect yourself as much as possible. Particularly, your head."
Nash snorted from his corner. "Just get on with it, man. I haven't heard this long a promo since Hulk turned at Bash at the Beach."
"Would you like to demonstrate? Or is that below your paygrade?" Mark retorted.
"It might be," Nash answered smugly.
"I think it might be above," Hall chimed in as he approached the center and gave Nash a shit-eating grin. "I'll do it. I better get my cut out of that payday. You volunteered me for this, remember?"
Stupid prick, Nash thought fondly as he returned the smirk. Scott was glad to show off for his little tart.
"Ok, if you two are done making goo-goo eyes at each other, can we please see something?" Reves questioned impatiently.
Heather's face became inflamed. Had she been staring at him? She wasn't aware.
"Hush, Reves. You're not in a position to demand shit," Mark reprimanded her.
It was then that Heather realized her sister was not speaking to her, but to the other two men, which she found rather peculiar. Her eyes dared to venture towards the blonde man whose hair was tied back in a ponytail. It was lovely, yet so much more magnificent when it was free, cascading over his shoulders in thick waves. Feeling as if he could read her thoughts, her cheeks brightened when he subtly dragged his eyes in her direction.
Heather was taken by surprise when Hall's body suddenly collided with the mat. The force shook the ring greatly; much more than Heather would have expected and caused her to stumble off-kilter. Coming out of her fog, she looked down at Scott Hall, still laying on the canvas as her father spoke.
"Alright, you see, most importantly, he tucked his head into his chest. That's going to keep his head from smacking the mat. He brought his knees up and his feet are pointed down. As he fell, his arms came out to distribute his weight. Now, when he goes to get up, he's going to use his right elbow and come upon that same knee." Scott illustrated Mark's words as he spoke. "So, which one of you wants to go first? Rev, I assume it's you. Get over here."
"Yes, my lord," Reves replied mockingly and took her place towards the center.
"No need to be a smart ass, girl. Just do as you're told," Mark scolded her.
Reves ignored him and flashed a coy grin at Scott. She shook out her blonde tresses while inhaling and exhaling deeply with a dramatic flair. Then she let herself fall back with a bang.
Nash smirked as he watched her cocky expression morph to a painfilled wince. "Now, how did that feel?" he asked rhetorically.
She stood quickly, bringing her hand to her back. "Like being tickled by a million feathers. It fucking hurt. How do you think it felt, Lurch?" she snapped, causing him to narrow his eyes at her.
"Cut that damn attitude, girl!" Mark warned her.
"I don't know why people ask such stupid-"
"Shut your mouth!" her father growled.
Rage flashed in the blonde girl's eyes, but she fell silent.
"Heather, yer up. Let's go," Mark said, averting his eyes to his youngest. "And take off your glasses. I don't want you breaking them. Vince doesn't want you wearing glasses on TV, so you best start liking those contacts I wasted so much money on."
Heather stared up at him with a sullen expression that would have insinuated that he had instructed her to literally pluck her eyes out. Heather had a stockpile of contact lenses located inside a dresser drawer in her room. Her parents and her sister had attempted a few times to convince her to wear them but to no avail. Eventually, Mark stopped buying them when he grudgingly realized it was nothing but money down the drain. "Why would he take grievance with my glasses?" She wondered out loud, although it was produced as a mumble.
Mark sighed. "Something about how it didn't fit the image of the group. It doesn't matter. Just get on with it," he told her impatiently.
Frowning, Heather removed her glasses and placed them in a corner, underneath the turnbuckle. Her vision was fuzzy and the faces around her blurred.
Kevin had never really seen her without her glasses. Not that she looked much different, but it was still a little odd to gaze upon her naked face, bright green eyes unobstructed. He never had a glasses fetish of any sort, but it was strangely like an intricate piece of her persona was taken away. As a matter of fact, nearly every aspect concerning her was an antithesis to what he usually sought after. He liked blondes, (not ones like her sister) making an exception for the occasional brunette. On anyone else, that dark hair and wacky highlights would be utterly absurd. He always thought a woman with a warm tan looked sexier than the pale flesh of a corpse. He was attracted to confident ladies who knew what they wanted. He never paid attention to the shy, mousy ones. They seemed like real duds. Oh, and most important of all: they were all…legal.
"What are ya waiting for, girl? We ain't got all day," Mark pressured her.
She stood there, rocking back and forth on her heels. "W-what if I…I…" Heather cast her eyes downward, "don't want to?" she mumbled the last part, afraid of her father actually hearing.
Mark's face scrunched in annoyance. "Well, it's too late for that now. You're going on national television in just a couple weeks. You better find some gumption real quick," he chided her. It came out harsher than he meant it. He was not a very tactful man, but that didn't prevent the disappointment that overtook the young girl's lovely features.
Heather closed her eyes and exhaled sharply, trying to stuff down her reservations. Summoning her courage, she threw caution to the wind.
Nash observed with apprehension. As soon as her feet left the canvas, he knew she was in trouble. He watched as she fell, almost in slow motion, and winced when the back of her head bounced off the mat with a resounding thud. The blow rendered her shocked and immobilized for a few moments. She slowly sat up, clutching the back of her head.
Heather sustained immense humiliation. She stared down at the canvas. She fought the tears that threatened to spring from her eyes.
"Oh my God! Are you okay, you little dork?" Reves asked. At least she seemed somewhat concerned even if it was offered in a scathing manner.
"Hell, girl what are you doing? Weren't you even paying attention when Scott was showing you what to do?" Mark derided her.
Nash felt the anger rise up in him. The poor girl could be concussed and all he gave a damn about was that she didn't perform correctly. She had no business being thrust into all of this in the first place. Call him sexist, maybe unnecessarily gallant on the opposite end, but he didn't like to see women getting banged up and taking hard hits. While there were a few women who truly deserved their spot and had proven themselves, most were there in supportive roles.
Kevin didn't think to stop himself as he bent down to help her up. Nor did he care at the moment. He wanted to tear Mark a new one, then go backstage and punch Vince square in his jaw for even dreaming up this cockamamy scheme. "Maybe, it'd be prudent to make sure she's not concussed, Mark?" he suggested, cutting his eyes towards the other man.
"Prudent," the teenager repeated. "Perhaps I'll use that as the word of the day," she muttered, still favoring the back of her skull.
"She's fine," Reves said dismissively as she rolled her eyes.
Before anything else could be said, a stagehand approached the ring. "I'm sorry to interrupt, Taker, but Mr. McMahon said he wanted to see you right away," he croaked nervously.
"Did he say why?" Mark questioned with agitation. What the hell could the man want now? "I'll right I'll be there." That wasn't up for debate, no matter how inconvenienced he was.
The stagehand nodded and swiftly hurried off. The speed at which he fled gave Mark a chuckle. He wasn't that scary, was he?
His thoughts then shifted to his meeting with Vince and Mark growled openly. "I'll be back," he told the girls. "Go ahead and take a break, I guess," he said before hopping out of the ring and heading backstage, but not before shooting another glance at Nash, who still had the young girl in his grasp.
Looking wide-eyed both sisters were flummoxed that he left them alone with two grown men. Then again, when Vince called, he answered. Always.
"How's your head? You don't feel dizzy, or nauseous, or like you're going to pass out, do you?" Kevin asked the girl. Only then did he realize that he had not relinquished his hold on her. She remained in his grasp despite knowing full well he should release her.
She shook her head at his questioning. "It is a bit painful," she confirmed, still gripping the back of her head. "However, I believe I will survive."
"That's good," he chuckled at her. His hand threaded inside her hair to survey the knot at the back of her skull. He was in a precarious position. He had the ability to pull her right into him and his body ached for it.
Her timid gaze focused up towards him. "It is good that I am in pain, or good that I will not expire yet?" She found the courage to finish her inquiry as her attention shifted from her head to the strong hands in which she found herself.
"I think you're going to be okay, little one. You have to remember to tuck your chin or you probably won't be so lucky next time. It's too easy to get hurt with all this," he sympathized gently. He looked down at her, as his hand drifted down the back of her neck, then partway down her spine. He knew that there was a delicate frame underneath that faded band tee and oversized gym shorts that read Property of Waltrip High School on the front, left leg. He didn't want her taking bumps and getting all bruised up if he could help it. He wanted to kiss her tender flesh and touch her softly. "Fuck," he whispered and exhaled sharply as he felt the stirring of his loins.
His lusting was mercifully interrupted when he heard giggling from one corner of the ring. It was Reves. She grabbed the front of Scott's shirt and threw herself to the canvas, dragging him along with her. "Opps! How clumsy of me," she tittered with a Cheshire grin and they kissed.
Kevin released Heather as he stared at the tomfoolery before him. Crossing his arms over his chest, he glowered at them.
Heather looked on, wide-eyed with bashful modesty. She peeked up at Nash to gauge his reaction, noticing his face was distorted in a scowl. His eyes locked on to hers and softened a bit, however, his expression remained consistent. She blushed at their display, although it wasn't overly vulgar or obscene.
"Ahem!" Nash cleared his throat loudly. His eyes zeroed in on the giddy pair. "Can you two fuck around on your own time?"
"So, we're supposed to be on your time?" Reves retorted as Scott moved off of her and stood. She continued to glare at him as Scott helped her up.
"Yeah, you're wasting my fucking time, playing games like a couple of juvenile kids," he snapped. He was becoming irate and he hardly knew why. "I'm sure you'd love to have Daddy Calaway come back and explode once he's had a gander at this fuckery." Nash glowered at both of them in turn. He paused suddenly, realizing he was projecting his own fears. It's not that he was afraid of the man himself. More so, it was the pull he had with Vince and backstage. He literally buried Page and that poor bastard only kayfabe stalked his wife. If Mark had even the slightest inkling that he had it in for his precious baby girl, Nash's career would be over. Not to mention, he wouldn't be surprised if he found himself in the clink. He forced himself to chill out because the belligerence was not helping his cause. "This is about getting you ready for TV. Not you two being all gaga and lovey-dovey with each other."
"I am not lovey-dovey," Reves denied.
Kevin snorted, "Sure seems like it to me."
"Why don't we practice some more bumps?" Scott suggested, to keep them from arguing.
"Good idea, I guess," Nash said. "Might as well do something while we're doing nothing. Would you like to try your bump again, little one?" He directed his inquiry to the raven-haired girl whose cheeks suffused with a crimson glow that made his body go rigid. There was no eroticism within her chaste deportment. That didn't prevent his debauched view of her, even given how catastrophically this was bound to end for him if he allowed these errant thoughts to run wild. Or worse, if he ever lost his damn mind and acted on them.
"D-do I have to?" she pleaded, doe eyes staring up at him.
"I'm certainly not going to make you. Just know that it's pretty much inevitable that you're going to have to get this down sometime in the next couple weeks," he told her expressionlessly as Scott and Reves stared at him.
"I suppose, I have little to no alternative," she demurred.
He frowned slightly, hating that she felt that way, but he didn't spend too much time displaying his emotions. "Scotty, show her again," he commanded his friend.
"Me? Why me?" Scott groused.
"Just do it," Kevin replied with an irritated look.
Hall muttered a couple curses under his breath but positioned himself to demonstrate the fall again.
Nash explained the points again and she sincerely wasn't assured that the information soaked into her brain as she listened to him speak. She stood there as they stared at her impatiently. "I…I would rather not," she squeaked.
"Quit being a puss. It's not that bad," Reves chided her, arms folded over her chest.
"So, you retract your earlier statement?" Heather questioned.
"No. But I wasn't a wimp about it either,"
Nash couldn't help himself from grimacing at the young blonde. "You're not helping. And since you don't know your ass from a hole in the ground when it comes to this shit, why don't you shut the one in your face?" he said before he thought better of it, garnering glaring looks from both her and Scott.
Ignoring them, he turned back to the timid girl. She didn't deserve to be treated like garbage by her own flesh and blood, but the simple fact was if she did horribly, they all looked horrible. That wasn't something he was keen on. Ordinarily, he wouldn't give two shits, but the fact was that Vince and everyone else in the back were doing their best to bury the nWo. It was damn stupid and not something they could afford. He wasn't an idiot. He knew Vince's intentions by tossing in a couple of teen girls with zero experience and he couldn't let that happen.
"Remember, while you're falling, you're going to bend your neck and tuck your chin into your chest," Nash reiterated as his gigantic hand came to the back of her head and gingerly eased it downward. As he did so, he tried not the think of tangling his fingers into her soft tresses and guiding her face upward towards him in order to capture her delicate lips.
Instead, he pulled away and his hands grasped both of her tiny wrists. "You're going to stretch your arms out to help distribute your weight," he reminded her in a gentle voice and raised her arms until they were held out horizontally. Not releasing her, he slowly leaned her back, intending to demonstrate the manner in which her body should be positioned while falling.
Gasping, she was taken by surprise and she took a step back to right herself. Nash moved with her. As he did, Heather inched forward again, causing him to stumble over her tiny foot and sent them both crashing towards the mat.
Fortunately, he was able to brace himself enough to keep from completely smashing her delicate frame which was only a third his size. He hadn't crushed her bones, but he was keenly aware of the dainty form beneath him. Additionally, her tiny hands had grasped onto the sides of his shirt at some point during their tumble.
"Good going! Wow, what a couple of dorks!" Reves jeered.
"Kev, what are you doing, man?" Scott asked before breaking into a fit of laughter.
Kevin was conscious of Scott and Reves cackling like a couple of annoying hyenas, but for a few harrowing moments, his brain all but shut down. It left his only functioning senses to be the feel of the supple flesh pressed below him and the sight of the two shimmering emeralds staring up at him with astonished intrigue as his face hovered just inches above.
The air had been forced from Heather's lungs once their bodies collided. No, he hadn't squashed her underneath his gargantuan frame, but he robbed her of her breath all the same. His massive form bearing down on her was excruciating and magnificent all at once. It left her chest aching with a nameless desire. His warm eyes flashed with an expression that she couldn't quite identify. Lips parted slightly, his face lower towards her another inch or so.
He released something akin to a growl, then spoke, "Never mind. I think that's enough for today." His tone was even, but his face seemed distorted in anger. He suddenly pulled himself up and abruptly left the ring, expelling all manner of obscenities in his wake. "You fucking idiot," he roared as he began heading up the ramp.
Confounded, Heather sat up slowly as she watched him go and became disheartened at his profane outcries. A stabbing pain made its presence known inside her chest. It was plain to see, he thought of her as a nuisance and an all-around foolish girl. She glanced briefly over her shoulder. It was apparent that the other pair were oblivious to what had transpired between them as they reveled in their mockery.
Hastily rushing off in all his anger, Kevin stopped midway up the ramp when he caught sight of Mark at the top of the stage, studying the scene with an undecipherable expression. How long had he been standing there, and how much had he seen? Who cared? This was over.
A scowl further marred the blonde man's features as he trudged the rest of the way up the ramp. He halted again once he reached Mark. "Tell Vince he can fine me, suspend me. I don't give a flying fuck! I'm through with this bullshit of his," he spat before stomping to the back in a rage.