Unnatural Love

BY : FlameWolf
Category: WWF/WWE > Het - Male/Female
Dragon prints: 4335
Disclaimer: I don’t know and have never met Undertaker, Sting, Hulk Hogan, Mankind, Shawn Michaels, Triple H, Vince Mc Mahon, Jim Ross, Paul Bearer, Kane or C.M. Punk. This is fiction, for fun and no profit will be made from it.

Author’s Note:  Kane isn’t about to take all of this laying down of course.  He’s about as wordy as his brother.



 

Chapter Four: Sibling Rivalry

 

    Glaring up at the man that was his father, Kane tightened his grip around his wattled neck ever so slightly.  Choking slightly the being simply know as Paul Bearer looked around with his beady, black eyes for any sign of help.  He wasn’t surprised when he saw nothing, especially given the fact they were deep in the bowels of the dungeons.  “Ghk!  C-can’t make him do anything he doesn’t want to.  You know that,” gurgled out of the heavyset man, well aware of the fact he was dangling several feet off the ground.  Growling, the beast dropped him; seeming to take some pleasure in the thudding sound he made.

    Without sparing a glance, the hulking beast was making his way toward his own room.  A place that dwelled in a more industrial part of the underground chambers.  Rather than stone and iron bars, there were pipes and metal walkways; punctuated by swinging chains.  Opening his heavy, steel door, he walked into a horror chamber.  It was a metal square with no windows, red lights in the ceiling giving it a blood soaked appearance.  A long work bench was set up against the far wall, an ominous wooden table with shackles on it situated in the middle of the room.  Above the bench were a selection of cruel, metal instruments, all bearing some form of rust on the steel blade.

    Moving toward his toys, the leather clad demon reached out with a fingerless gloved hand to touch a loong knife with a curved, serrated tip.  A low moan came from behind the leather mask before black eyes moved to the table.  Removing his mask in the privacy of the chamber, he revealed the fact he had been terribly scarred by the supposed fire that had claimed his parents and his own brother had to drag him out of.  At least that was what Paul Bearer had told him.  He didn’t remember any of it.  All he knew was that he wanted what ‘Taker had, that little female he had brought into the dungeon.  The one with such unblemished skin, such expressive eyes.

    She was a blank canvas, one that begged for his specific brand of ‘attention’.  She would be a beautiful medium for his knives, her blood soaking into the wood of the table like all the others had.  At least the ones he could get to go past his door.  Every woman who passed his threshold now carried a unique mark from him.  One that would forever remind them who they belonged to despite the fact they would never return.  To have a girl he could keep without consequences, one he could personally make over at his whim...  Someone who would be his little toy to take out and play with whenever he wanted...  Just thinking about it made him shudder while his dark eyes slid closed.

    The fact that his brother had that and he didn’t, it made his rage begin to rise to the surface.  Closing his hands into fists tight enough to break his skin, he gritted his teeth while his eyelids slowly lifted.  It was not fair!  ‘Taker was just as much of a monster as he was, possibly even worse.  The woman with his brother now should belong to him.  A fact he intended to rectify as soon as he got the opportunity.  As soon as she was alone, he would swoop in and claim her.  Then, he could proceed to make her beautiful, to mark her so no one could question who she really belonged to.  Grinning, he turned back to his workbench; sitting down at a worn chair to sharpen his weapons.  After all, they would need to be ready.

    Groaning, Sam snuggled into the muscled body under hers.  Breathing in, she smelled a familiar, pleasant musk that held the slightest rotting undertone.  Opening azure eyes, she inhaled deeply as a pair of lips landed on the crown of her dark haired head.  “Good morning to you too,” she greeted, lifting her head so she could meet the eyes of her new lover.  Though, in different circumstances, she wondered just how true this label would be.  If he were anything else, women would be all over him.  As it was, he probably had more than a few interested in him before they got close enough to see he wasn’t natural.

    Humming, tattooed arms wound around her; a strange look in his normally expressionless eyes.  Then his lips were landing on her forehead, the facial hair surrounding them tickling her skin and making her giggle quietly.  Reaching up a hand, he trailed cautious fingertips along her left cheek while his mouth travelled down to cover her own.  Accepting his kiss willingly, she wasn’t all that shocked when she felt him harden beneath her.  Smiling but knowing they couldn’t spend the morning having sex, she broke the liplock to give him a playfully admonishing glare.  “Maybe a bit later.  I bet fucking me isn’t the only thing you have to do today Mr. Wrestling Superstar,” she teased, getting a shameful smile in return.

Then, he was lifting her off him, placing her carefully on the floor before getting out of the coffin-bed himself.  Lifting both arms into the air, he connected his fingers together; cracking his knuckles while he stretched his tall body.  That allowed her the opportunity to realize he was very naked and she had a rather large shirt over her own, very nude form.  Squeaking in embarrassment, she began to search around for her missing clothes; feeling some measure of relief when she saw them right away.

    Reaching out for her shirt, she stopped when she felt strong arms wrap around her waist.  Resting his chin between her shoulder blades, ‘Taker let out a disapproving sound.  Knowing what the problem was, she felt her smile widen just the slightest bit.  “Do you really want Paul Bearer or your brother seeing me in nothing but a tank top of yours?” she questioned, keeping her voice sweet and teasing while she wiggled her rump against his crotch.  Letting out a possessive snarl, he released her; finally allowing her to get dressed.  A fact he wasn’t happy with given the glare he was giving her when she finished.

    “Sorry ‘Taker.  I was just playing around.  I don’t want to be seen nude by those guys anymore than you want me to,” she assured, giving him a hug and resting her cheek against his abdomen.

    She wasn’t all that shocked when he bent to give her a rather possessive kiss that was full of teeth.  Letting out a gruff sound, he wound his fingers into her ebony hair to keep her mouth against his.  He was so engrossed in reminded her just who she belonged to, that he didn’t hear the knock on the door.  He wasn’t even aware he had a visitor before Paul was very timidly clearing his throat for attention.  Breaking the kiss reluctantly, ‘Taker shot his assistant and father a glare that would wither flowers.  “Y-you have a match with Hogan scheduled,” he pointed out, getting a sharp nod from his ward in response.

    Releasing Sam with a fair amount of reluctance, he trotted toward the closet to get his trademark trenchcoat and hat.  “Oh and... uh... Vince is, uh... giving you a new costume,” came another announcement the behemoth wasn’t so okay with.  With a shocking amount of speed, he was back across the room; giving a death glare to his assistant and father.

    “It was his call.  Said the purple wasn’t intimidating enough.  If you have an issue, take it up with McMahon,” Paul tried to deflect, his grip tightening on the urn he held.  An urn that only seemed to make an appearance during scheduled matches.  An urn that held a rather strange power over the undead wrestler.

    The moment he saw it, all fight seemed to drain out of him and he was giving a slow nod.  Then, he was turning toward her; motioning for her to come to his side.  A bit stunned he still remembered her in this state, she complied; slipping her hand into his.  Closing cold fingers over hers, he placed his hat on his head with the other hand; his coat slung over the shoulder opposite to her.  Seeming surprised himself, the portly man behind them couldn’t stop staring at the pair.  As much as he hated to say it, his ‘Taker was slipping slowly out of his control.  How much longer would it be before he learned the truth?  Before the fierce warrior decided to destroy him?  It was a day he knew was coming soon and he didn’t relish it at all.

    Still, it was beyond comprehension that the events were being sped along by a mere mortal female.  A being so below his ‘Taker that she should have been invisible like all the rest.  Why, why was she so different?  Why had she become inseparable from him almost immediately?  Why was his ‘Taker acting like he was human enough to have feelings for this piece of trash?  More of these questions flooded his once peaceful mind and he pursed his lips.  Movement caught the corner of his vision, drawing him out of his frustrated thoughts.  Turning his head he saw Kane.  Remembering how the odd man had reacted over the female earlier, he realized he could likely use this to his advantage if he did things just right.

    As they came to the area behind his entry point, Sam became aware of the sound of the crowd beyond.  There was a large portion calling the name of the beast next to her.  Calling for him to put Hogan to rest and win this bout.  With how they reacted to her spending the night with him, she doubted they would receive her coming down the ramp with him very well.  In fact, she was almost certain they would turn hostile the instant they laid eyes on her.  All she wanted to do was go back to hide in their room, not coming out until all the hubbub had died down.  Unfortunately, it didn’t seem like her companion had such reservations.

    Instead of loosening his hold to allow her to stay behind, he tugged her behind him.  Whimpering, she ducked her head in preparation of being pelted by a furious mob.  She wasn’t disappointed.  As soon as they saw her, the cheers changed to boos.  It wasn’t long after that all manner of food and drink were flung at her.  The first few hit their target spot on, making her feel lower than a grease stain on the floor.  When she felt no more, she glanced up to see ‘Taker shielding her with his own body.  Not only that, he was sending the mother of all death glares toward his ravenous audience.

    Slowly, the barrage tapered off; the hisses becoming silence laden with fear.  Then, gentle hands cupped her face; forcing her to look up at him while emotionless eyes searched her for any sign of injury.  Giving a wavery smile, she kissed his gloved palm affectionately.  “I’m alright.  It was just food and styrofoam cups, nothing too serious,” she assured, getting a neutral look in return.  Yet, there was a fire burning in the back of his dead orbs.  Something that spoke of retribution.  Doing her best to soothe him as they continued toward the ring, it became fairly clear her efforts were useless.  By attempting to harm her, the audience had apparently committed an offense against him.  An offense he seemed unwilling to forgive.

    Mounting the slightly raised platform, ‘Taker ducked between the multi-colored, nylon coated ropes before motioning for her.  Feeling unsure about approaching the ring and all too aware of the fact Vince was watching her fairly closely, Sam walked up hesitantly.  Paul, who was still holding the urn, frowned slightly; his jowls shuddering while he pursed his lips.  Looking from him to her lover, she was a bit shocked to see he was handing her his trenchcoat.  Reaching for the leather material, she carefully took it; resisting the urge to burrow her nose into it and inhale deeply.  Then she was taking his hat, blinking when he began to lean over the top rope toward her.  Standing on tiptoe, she met his lips with hers; whispering a ‘good luck’ as he pulled away.  Giving her a last glance, he turned to face his opponent while a loud song began to play.

    It began with a guitar riff, red white and blue lights flashing to signal his entrance.  The the lyrics started, sounding like an 80’s rock ballad.  **“When it comes crashing down, and it hurts inside.  Ya' gotta take a stand, it don't help to hide,” begins the singer, Hogan appearing while smoke billows and swims around his muscled form.

    “If you hurt my friends, can you hurt my pride.  I gotta be a man, I can't let it slide,” the song continues while the ham pantomimes that he can’t hear the audience.  Equal amounts of cheers and boos greeted this action, showing just how mercurial the crowd was.

    “Traitorous crowd we have tonight.  Ready to turn their backs on a favorite at a moment’s notice,” Vince pointed out, making a show of sounding vaguely disgusted with the mob.

    Hogan didn’t seem to mind, simply continuing to motion to the crowd to work them into a frenzy.  “I am a real American.  Fight for the rights of every man,” announces the song he had chosen while he tore of his shirt and went into a flex.  This, of course was meant to show off his muscles.  While this was going on, Sam had moved to an area she thought she would be safe, a corner by the announcer’s table.  Despite the proximity to Vince, it was the furthest point away from the ring besides going backstage.  Given how ‘Taker had acted earlier, she somehow doubted he would allow her to go back there without protest.

    Taking her seat, she watched while the ‘Hulkster’ made his way down the ramp; the blonde hero pointing at the Phenom and shouting threats no one could really hear.  With a graceful jump, he was sliding under the bottom rope; hopping to his feet to cater to the audience a bit more.  Undertaker simply watched, unbothered and there for only one reason.  To win.  Thus far, there hadn’t been a major bout he had lost.  He had come close a few times but had risen like phoenix to reclaim what had been taken.  This time would be no different, despite the fact he was a villain in this odd world Vince had crafted.

    Even the fans, who were supposed to be rooting for Hogan, were cheering for their dark savior instead.  There were even a few cries for the representation of America to ‘rest in peace’, the trademark saying Undertaker would growl out before performing his signature move; the Tombstone.  Dead eyes not moving from his opponent, the star of this show simply waited until the song ended before charging forward.  Still hamming it up for the audience, the other man never saw it coming; only realizing he had been clotheslined when he found himself suddenly on his back.  Getting back up, the red and yellow clad muscleman began to circle the outer edge of the ring, ‘Taker assuming a position in the center.

    Apparently seeing no weakness in his target’s guard, Hogan was rushing forward with a hard punch.  An attack the darker male didn’t seem to even feel.  Eyes widening, the hero began to back away; shaking his head in negation while the behemoth strode toward him in a purposeful manner.  “Bit of a monster, isn’t he,” murmured a gruff baritone in her ear, making her spin her head to see a rather intimidating figure far too close to her for her comfort.  He was tall like ‘Taker, made to look sleeker because of his slicked back, black hair.  His face had been painted in a design that made her think of ‘The Crow’, the red eyes boring into her making her feel more than a bit intimidated by this figure.

    “I guess some people could call him that,” whispered out of her without her control.  This seemed to make the stranger happy, his grin widening while he seemed to pull a chair out of the thin air.

    “You’re not afraid of him?  Even after spending three nights with him?” he continued, the fight fading into the background while she struggled against her urge to back away from this fairly inhuman man.

    Something about him made every instinct inside her scream out, yelling at her to put as much distance between her and this creature as possible.  “I am a bit afraid...  I would be a fool if I wasn’t.  But... he has treated me with nothing but the utmost of care,” came a confession she had no business giving to this person.  What happened between her and ‘Taker was private, not to be shared like tawdry gossip.

    “I have no doubt he has.  Still, you must know he is not normal by now,” he continued, causing her to stare at him in a mixture of anticipation and apprehension.

    “None of us are normal.  None of us are really... human.  Yet, not many of us remember how we came to be here or who we really are,” came a cryptic response, making her all the more curious.

    Shooting a look to Vince and seeing he was engrossed with commentating the fight, she returned her focus to the wrestler before asking some questions that had plagued her since she had come here.  “Are you all dead like he is?  What are you?” she whispered, the sound of the crowd easily drowning her out so the men at the table to her right couldn’t hear her.

    “Undertaker is a... special case.  The rest of us have a pulse and can feel pain.  As for what we are, even I am not really sure.  I only have a vague sense I don’t belong here,” he murmured, red eyes meeting hers carefully.

    Frustrated he couldn’t offer any further insight, Sam sighed before shifting her gaze to assess the fight.  From the looks of it, it wouldn’t last much longer; the ‘Hulkster’ appearing to be on his last legs.  They only had a bit more time before ‘Taker saw she was talking to one of the other warriors.  With how reluctant he was to allow her to be around them, there was no telling how he would react while under the influence of the urn.  Still, she wanted to know this man’s name.  So offering her hand, she gave him a small smile.  “Name’s Sam,” she introduced, a bit startled when the hand that took hold of hers was warm.

    “They call me Sting,” he responded just as Jim Ross started screaming out the finishing move.

    Turning just in time to see Hogan slammed into the canvas head first, she didn’t notice the strange man taking his leave.  Not until she got to her feet and saw the chair he had once occupied was empty.  Still, she didn’t have long to ponder.  The ref was announcing the winner and ‘Taker would likely want her ringside.  Sure enough, when she turned back to head that way, he was staring at her; the emptiness of his gaze greatly disconcerting her.  Then, he was motioning to her and she found herself trotting to the side of the platform like a loyal puppy.  Handing him his coat and hat without prompting, Sam watched as he lifted the ropes so he could exit.

    As soon as he was free, he was placing a hand in the small of her back; pushing her before him as they went up the ramp.  Vince was close on their heels, glaring at Paul.  The poor man was doing his best to halt his ward, the power of the urn seeming to have faded for the time being.  “Taker!  I need a word with you!” the ‘announcer’ called, finally getting the Phenom to stop just at the top of his entry point.

    “Paul should have told you I have a costume change planned.  Come with me.  We gotta get you in the new outfit as soon as possible,” whispered a gruff demand, making the ‘Dead Man’ tense while some life returned to his dark eyes.  Yet, he followed; despite the fact he could easily break Vince in half.  The only question was, why hadn’t he?  What was happening here?  What was it about Vince that made all the muscle-bound men here cower in fear.  Determined to get to the bottom of the mystery, Sam decided to do some investigating of her own as a soon as she was given the opportunity.

    Trapped in ‘Taker’s grip while they followed the owner to his office, she began to brainstorm ways she could talk her lover into allowing her to leave the dungeon.  She didn’t really care if he accompanied her.  In fact, she expected it.  All she cared about was the opportunity to explore.  To possibly get a handle on what was happening, let alone how it was possible for a dead man to be walking around.  Looking up at her stoic partner, she sincerely hoped he would be up for the idea.






 

**Real American (c) Rick Derringer



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