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The Four Horsemen	By : Kodanikage Category: WWF/WWE > General Views: 1805 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know the celebrities of WWE/WWF. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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A/N: Hey my loyal reader’s and reviewers this is the next chappie and my Christmas gift to you. This chappie is a grand total of 21 pages long. The longest chappie I’ve ever written for a fanfiction. Enjoy- Rei

A hulking man sat on a bed mismatched eyes transfixed on the screen as he watched the mixed tag match unfolding like a well written drama. He had been surprised as everyone else when McMahon had announced the match earlier that evening and further intrigued when he set eyes on his brother’s tag partner. Seething hazel orbs stared ominously at DX’s bodyguard Chyna with evil intentions.

Yet for some reason the silent spectator couldn’t help but think that the one called Morte was amused even if her face was hidden by the obviously lovingly crafted mask. “What cha’ watch’n son”? He glanced through the fall of his chestnut mane at the overly obese man that was Paul Bearer. Kane, despite popular belief was not stupid.

In fact in some ways Kane was just as cunning as his brother though his education was lacking due being practically raised in an insane asylum and his hatred burning eternally through his very soul. He knew full well the portly foul tempered and manipulative bastard wasn’t his father.

There was no way he could be even if his mother did have an affair because Kane was the almost exact spitting image of Derek, his mother’s husband. Yet the big red machine allowed the fat man to believe what he want as it suited his purpose of putting Undertaker through as much pain as possible. Placing the electrolarynx to his throat, Kane finally spoke with a bowed head, “Mark”. Paul briefly glanced toward the cheap TV screen.

Then looking into Kane’s eyes he smiled. “Good, the more you study him the less he’ll be prepared”. Kane once again didn’t bother to correct his assumption and took the electrolarynx from his throat. Turning back to watch the match Kane watched as Morte decked Chyna solidly in the nose, making the older woman have to roll off her and get a tag.

The big red machine was disgusted when Triple H prevented Morte from tagging in the Undertaker and instead contented himself to attacking her relentlessly. He was impressed when Morte didn’t fall easily under the obviously bigger and stronger man. She kept well out of the Game’s reach and hit him whenever she saw an opening but was still wasn’t able take him down.

Kane easily recognized why, he could see the minuscule telltale hesitations of someone who was afraid of doing life-threatening damage. Someone, who was very new to the concept of holding back. Intrigued he watched as Morte finally came to some conclusion and scarified her ribs in order to get a proper shot off without killing her opponent.

The maneuver Morte preformed was a strange one but Kane couldn’t fault it’s effectiveness as it stunned Triple H long enough to scramble for a tag. He pretended to examine his brother’s moves closely as he still felt Bearer’s eyes on him. In truth Kane turned his attention inward, where he could sense Undertaker’s irritation flow through the link almost dousing his own rage with its cool touch.

Kane had to forcibly stifle his sigh of relief at feeling the cold of his brother’s heart soothing the heat of his. After years of endless rage and loneliness Mark’s mind presence was a cool balm on his white hot nerves. When they had stood eye to eye enemies instead of brothers the link that both had thought long dead flared back to life. It felt like coming home.

Then he thought about waking up in a hospital bed with his flesh feeling like it had been peeled off with a cheese grater. He couldn’t sense Mark and panicked forcing the doctors to tie him down to the bed. And then Bearer came and told him his parents were dead and that Mark was the cause of his suffering. He gave a low bitter laugh; he had denied it at first thinking the fat fuck was a lying sack of horse shit.

The bastard had just smiled and went on to inform him he was in his care now. Another explosion of rage nearly made Kane swoon as he remembered every detail of his captivity under the fat man’s care. After being released from the hospital Glen spent his first month under Bearer’s care in a basement. He remembered being unable to move from the spot the sick bastard had thrown him down the stairs.

“You’re training will begin tomorrow”, he had said. The ten year old boy couldn’t have ever imagined the horrors both physically and mentally he would be put through before the month was up. Paul had aimed to break him and mold a true monster from the shattered pieces. And as what little innocence was beaten and taunted out of him, Glen began to feel true hatred toward his brother.

And each day he began to hate his tormentor a little bit less and hate his absentee brother and parents a little bit more. Paul enforced this notion continuously throughout his ‘sessions’ and reinforced the idea that he was Kane’s only option. “Who else will help a scarred retarded freak like you”? Then he was shipped off to be committed and left there.

Seven years of imprisonment with nothing but orderlies and an eight by five cell as company did nothing to hinder his growth into a seven foot monster. Kane had tried once to communicate, tried to claw his way out of the situation he had been dumped into only to be placed into solitary confinement for his trouble. Kane began to believe Bearer no matter how hard he tried to convince himself otherwise.

And like magic the fat fuck showed up and had him released in his care once more. And before he knew it Kane was being ensnared further into the morbid mind games of his ‘father’ when Bearer gave him a present for his eighteenth birthday. He ran a gloved hand over the thick leather of his mask that he wore even now in the privacy of a hotel room. His first mask in a collection of three identical others.

They were all leashes, meant to further demean him and remind him to whom he belonged, Kane knew. Even tormented and starved for human contact as he was Kane never forgot who his tormenter was. But the leash was necessary, if he was to live without hearing the screams of ‘normal’ people. Kane remembered with a grim smile how he had escaped the very night he received his first mask.

Vengeance had taken the back seat in his mind and instead he thought of getting away from Paul. Fearing capture he kept on the move and stole food and money along the way. It was a week after his flight from his portly benefactor that Kane met a young woman by the name of Katie Vick. Katie hadn’t been afraid of him even though he was three times her size.

Instead of turning the big man away she helped him and gave him a glimpse of what it meant to be truly free. And for those few months he ceased to be Kane the vengeful beast the Paul Bearer had bred into being. He was simply Glen Jacobs, a cousin Katie had taken in. She taught him how to read and write beyond an elementary school level and how to drive, helping him to get his license under his assumed identity.

When he ‘asked’ her how she was able to do it without raising red flags with authorities Katie just winked and told him he wasn’t the only stray in the world. However this freedom could not last as one night Katie had taken him out to a club and she became drunk. Kane offered to drive her home and without thought Katie had accepted.

There was an accident resulting in Katie’s death and Kane being found out and being returned to Paul Bearer’s care. Glen died with Katie and once more Kane took his place because in Bearer’s home there was no room for a weak, thinking, feeling, human being like Glen. So Kane put that part of himself to rest for good and swore it would never see the light of day again.

However he also promised himself he would be free again one way or another. And after he dealt with his brother Kane would make sure the weighty pig paid for every blow physical or otherwise. But for now he would bide his time and do what he did best and play dumb. He could only hope Katie’s soul would forgive him for the things he was going to do.

Abeebah and Brandon returned backstage only to see their’ younger siblings there waiting for them. Both of them Abeebah noted amusingly had put upon expressions on their’ faces. “So, no problems”, she asked. Delia glared, “smartass”. The dark skinned brawler lifted her mask so that her sister could see her smile not even bothering to take notice of the people that were around them. “Death smiles at us all”.

Evan snorted, “yeah but when are we going to be able to live up to our names”, the ‘it’s not fair’ was left unsaid. Brandon shrugged his broad shoulders.“Which ever one of us debut’s next I guess you’ll valet for them-”. “And no you will not fight amongst yourselves which”, Abeebah interrupted, “I want the bloodshed to a minimum and if you two go at it we’re gonna have problems”.

Their’ younger siblings gave her twin scowls but didn’t contest the decision. Suddenly Evan got a pensive look on his face, “where’s DX”. “Still at the ring licking their’ wounds”, Brandon huffed in amusement. “Let’s go”, Abeebah said rotating her neck in a futile attempt to get rid of the quickly forming kinks.

Only to be stopped by a very jovial Vince with an entourage following him. Silently the Johns siblings cursed. “Ah there is my new diva”. Delia entertained the thought of stepping in front of her sister baring the millionaire’s path but Brandon stopped her with a look. This was a game Abeebah needed to play and they needed the McMahon patriarch on their’ side if they were going to make it in this business.

Not missing a beat Abeebah stepped forward with silently deadly grace and her usual Mona Lisa smile. “I hope you enjoyed the show Mr. McMahon”. His smile was smug, “Indeed, you put on one hell of a show”. A suavely dressed man slightly to Vince’s left cleared his throat. Vince sent a slightly amused look toward the dark haired man.

“Ah yes, where are my manners? Morte this is Hereto Juan, Mr. Juan may I introduce the newest diva in the WWF Morte”. “Hola Sra. Morte it’s a pleasure to meet your acquaintance”, the obviously Hispanic man held out his hand and reluctantly Abeebah gave it to him. As soon as he kissed her knuckles she politely retracted her hand from his grip.

“No el placer es el mío Sr. Juan, what brings you to the WWF”? Vince was quick to answer for him, “Mr. Juan is a friend doing some free lance advertising for me I was showing him around”. “I must admit I was hesitant but-”, he ran his eyes up and down Abeebah’s stout form; “with such a beautifully fascinating specimen I think the idea has grown on me”. “Would you be interested in modeling for me”?

Abeebah could have sworn she heard Evan gag and if he did she wouldn’t blame him. She was immune to all variations of Latin charm and the obvious examination made her skin crawl. But she swallowed back her disgust, “I would be honored”. This time Evan really did gag loud enough for her to hear but was ignored.

The photographer gave her a thousand watt smile, “It is I who am honored Sra. Morte”, and his voice became thick with his Spanish accent. Her smile almost slipped but Abeebah managed to keep her expression schooled, “until then”, she glanced toward Vince who was looking particularly pleased with himself, “good evening gentlemen”.

Abeebah moved passed Vince and his guest fluently dodging anymore interactions with Hereto whom seemed to taken a liking to her. Her siblings followed her a few paces behind, giving her space to breath but staying close enough to watch her back. Abeebah strode toward their’ dressing room, her mysterious smile gone in favor of a more natural neutral expression.

The emotional roller coaster ride the night presented had eased but wasn’t far from Abeebah’s mind. Undertaker’s cold presence still lurked in her heart and it seemed no amount of distance changed it. And it was fast becoming reassuring just as much as it was disturbing. The constant cold soothing the sharpness of her own negative emotions, she had never been able to feel anything more than a prickle of awareness with her siblings.

But this, this was so much more and though she would never admit it out loud it frightened Abeebah. And the soreness of her limbs from the match and headache swiftly rising in her temples weren’t helping. Behind her Delia and Brandon stared worriedly at the stiff set of their’ sister’s shoulders.

Delia glanced over at Evan, her dark eyes meeting his hazel gaze. ‘Say something’, she mouthed to him. Evan furrowed his fine eyebrows in frustration, ‘what can I say’, he mouthed back. Delia shrugged her narrow shoulders. And flicking the dark mass of her hair over her shoulder, the caramel skinned beauty wordlessly followed her elder sister’s stalking form into the dressing room, Evan Brandon doing the same.

Abeebah immediately went to get her gym bag and went into the bathroom to change back into her street clothes without so much as a backwards glance. It was clear she was in one of her moods. “I ain’t staying with her”, Evan stated when his elder siblings glanced his way. Delia scowled, “we didn’t even say anything”.

“You didn’t have to and the answer is still no, no way, not a chance in hell”. Brandon smirked at his petite sibling, “well we can’t just leave her to her own devices, we might not care what happens to the poor soul that provokes her but the cops might”. “And we’re still supposed to avoid trouble”, Delia raised an eyebrow, “aren’t we”?

Delia and Brandon closed in on their younger sibling looming over him but the littlest Johns was far from intimidated. “The fuck I’m gonna be the one that has to stop her, one of ya’ll do it”. His sister’s scowl deepened, “what’s the matter Lue scared”? Evan didn’t even hesitate, “petrified”. “Chicken, shit”, Delia taunted. Brandon placed his hand on her shoulder silently telling her to back off before they both went too far.

The truth was none of them were immune to Abeebah’s chilly demur when she was in one of her ‘moods’. And someone always, always managed to piss her off enough to lose her usual ambivalence toward killing. Brandon shuttered he didn’t even want to think how close she came to losing it when Undertaker had come to their’ warm up. “I’ll do it”, he offered finally. Delia and Evan didn’t feel the need to ask him if he was sure.

“So”, Evan crossed his arms on his chest and glanced toward his dark eyed sister, “what are we going to do”? “Pizza”, Delia replied simply as a smile broke out on her face. Brandon and Evan laughed at her. “What”, mock offended Delia glared playfully at her brothers. “The second coming of Christ could be occurring and you’d still want pizza”, replied Evan. Mirth saturated his words.

Pompously she squared her shoulders and stuck her nose in the air. “Of course, pizza shall deliver us unto crispy crust heaven where mozzarella cheese flows like wine and Saturday night never ends”. Brandon shook his head at the reverent picture Delia made with her hands clasped together eyes wide with wonder, and slightly gaping mouth. They’re grandmother would have rolled in her grave if she could hear Delia now.

However their’ humorous conversation stopped when Abeebah reentered the room dressed in her street clothes, gym bag in hand. She glanced at them, “I’m going to the hotel”. “Wait Abeebah, let me come with you”. Brandon quickly stepped in his sister’s path but didn’t touch her. Had she been herself Abeebah would have arched her dark brows and smile while mockingly asking if he was going to wear that outfit to the hotel.

However she wasn’t in the mood and merely pointedly looked at his ring attire before going to sit on one of the benches and sitting down. Brandon didn’t need a second hint and went to the bathroom to change. “You two staying here”? Delia shook her head, “we’re going to get some pizza”. Abeebah didn’t say anything. The younger woman glanced toward Evan and he shrugged, there wasn’t anything they could really do.

Abeebah obviously didn’t want to be bothered and he wasn’t about to try and break her out of her funk if she wasn’t ready. Not for the first time he mentally cursed Vince McMahon. Yet for some reason he couldn’t bring himself to be mad at the Undertaker even though the Phenom contributed to the problem his eldest sibling was obviously struggling with.

The deadman was probably just as much trouble dealing as Abeebah. And that lead to a whole new set of questions that needed to be answered. Abeebah was the only one of the Johns children to have inherited their’ mother’s ability to sense presences and only the presences of those related to her. And she only inherited them because their’ parents tinkering with things they shouldn’t have.

Things that led to their’ untimely demise and left them picking up the pieces. For the longest time Evan could remember hating his parents and hating them even more once they were gone. Delia shared his hatred and when it came time to lay their’ mother and father to rest they both contemplated the idea of dancing on their graves.

The idea was swiftly shot down when Abeebah caught them. Her Mona Lisa smile never wavered as she told them on no certain terms that out of the four of them she had the most right to hate them but hatred was a waste of energy that she was not going to spend on a couple of corpses.

Now Evan wondered if Abeebah hated them, because he found himself hating their’ parents all over again Abeebah’s attitude be damned. He ran his hand over his shaved scalp in frustration before grabbing Delia with one hand and their’ gym bags in the other and pulled her toward the door. “See ya later Beba”, he said dragging his dark eyed sister out the door and leaving Abeebah alone to wait for Brandon.

Delia didn’t protest, knowing that their’ elder siblings frosty disposition was fast becoming too much for him to suffer in silence. Abeebah barely noticed them leave. She was more focused on the dank arctic presence inside of her own mind. Emotions she knew weren’t her own floated across her skin like a silken caress.

Curiosity and dark rage mixed together and wrapped around her lungs in its freezing grip until it was impossible to tell which belong to whom. Abeebah forced her breathing to remain steady as the need to get these feelings ‘out’ swelled to a whole new level. ‘Breathe’, she commanded herself, ‘you are not going to lose it’. But she was quickly losing grasp on her control.

“Beebs”? Ripping her attention back to the outside world Abeebah finally noticed Brandon whom had come out of the bathroom dressed in his street clothes. His green/gold gaze watched her carefully, as she sat stone still and reorienting herself. “Come on”. She stood her feet and grabbed her gym bag not even bothering to see Brandon follow her out. The light skinned Philadelphian sighed, ‘It’s gonna be a long night’.

The rest of the night passed on like blur, one problem blending to another as Brandon and Abeebah left the arena to head to the hotel the McMahon’s had all but bought out for the wrestlers. First getting a taxi became more than a little chore, then came late night New York traffic, getting their’ key’s, and drunken wrestlers going in and out the hotel.

Brandon had miraculously prevented a grand total of four homicides in one encounter. And by the time they got to their’ room Abeebah wasn’t the only one ready to snap. Brandon immediately dropped his bag by the door and made a B line of the bed furthest from the door. He threw himself down upon it with every intention of falling asleep just like that. And he was eternally grateful when his sister made no move to stop him.

Unlike Brandon, Abeebah didn’t drop her bag on the floor and instead slid it under the bed closest to the door. Standing she surveyed the entire room and noticed the open closet where their’ other things were placed. There was a note from the PR pinned on her suitcase, saying that she was having a photo shoot/ interview the very next day and the room number her two youngest siblings were assigned.

Grateful though she was Abeebah still frowned at the thought of at the thought of someone moving her stuff without her knowledge. Abeebah sighed knowing it was now safe to do so, hearing Brandon’s soft snores. He brother had the right idea; it was too late in the evening to be dealing with this emotional shit. So, Abeebah dropped unto the bed and let feeling of the soft comforter lull her to sleep.

Dream

It was cold, colder than Abeebah could ever remember it ever being and darker than she ever prayed it would never be. She opened her eyes to the baron blackness around her and flinched when she saw him. Standing tall and wrapped in living shadows and flames that seemed not to burn him, Undertaker looked at her with furious confusion. He wasn’t the same, she noted.

His skin wasn’t as pale and his hair was such a fiery red that it was easy to see against the black of his robe. “What are you doing here”? The waves of barely leashed rage nearly knocked her flat. Abeebah snarled back her own confusion lending a new coat of frost to her already stalactite sharp fury. “In order to figure that out asshole first you have to tell me where ‘here’ is”.

Disbelief bounced off of her like pelting rain drops as the giant glared at her. The dark skinned woman glared right back, “I don’t give a damn whether you believe me or not but what I do care about is getting out of this dream, vision, whatever it is”. Looking at her strangely Undertaker’s hostile emotions seemed to retreat but the ominous anger still lingered in the air. “You honestly don’t know”?

Abeebah’s bottom lip curled into a sneer, “you honestly think I’d be here if I did?“You wouldn’t be the first to try and control me in such a way”, he smiled bitterly, “fools always want power they can not have”. She gave him a truly amused smile of her own. “First off I let that ‘fool’ comment go because you don’t know me and two you could have all the power in the world and I wouldn’t give a less of a damn”.

Again utter honesty colored her words with distain at the very thought radiating off her entire being. The Phenom tilted his head, finally believing that she was telling the complete truth. “This is my mind”. Taking a good look around Abeebah couldn’t help a grimace, “no offense but this is depressing and there still is the question of how I got here and how the fuck am I going to get out”.

Amusement played upon her with a gentle caress, “None taken, and I have no idea how ya got here my mind is shielded from intruders”. Abeebah raised an incredulous eyebrow. “You get people in here often”, she asked half seriously. He glared, “I get enough”. Unperturbed Abeebah stared back boldly, “which means by your own logic either your defenses are faulty”, Undertaker snorted, “or I’m not considered an intruder”.

The fiery haired man crossed his arms over his massive chest not at all convinced. Abeebah didn’t particularly want to believe it either but she didn’t hear the deadman coming up with any explanations. Denial seemed like a good idea for all but two seconds before Abeebah’s common sense kicked in telling her just pretending won’t make the problem go away.

They were both silent, staring daggers at each other until finally Undertaker grunted his agreement to her theory. It made disturbingly a lot of sense because of the connection that was between them; Kane had done much the same thing when they were children when he fell asleep. However this woman was very different from his brother, Kane was raw unadulterated all consuming passion.

Even now Undertaker could feel the heat of his brother’s fire intertwining with the darkness. From what he felt from Morte she was not as intense, her feelings always focused on one target like a sharply honed blade and was just as cold and unforgiving as steel.

Undertaker seriously doubted that it had anything to do with being related in some unseen obscure way seeing as his and Kane’s parents couldn’t feel them. Impatience penetrated the red haired man’s silent thoughtfulness and he turned his attention back to his fellow dreamer.

Morte was utterly still, her eyes trained on him with a watchfulness of a predator. However Undertaker knew she was becoming frustrated as he himself was. “Well any ideas”? The Phenom shrugged his massive shoulders and sank to the ground in a graceless sprawl, “my brother did this often enough”, he informed her as pain radiated off of him. “We always waited it out”. She pursed her lips but said nothing and for that Undertaker was thankful.

Morte unceremoniously dropped to sit Indian style before him her eyes closed. “What are you doing”? Mild irritation scored his flesh. “Sleeping”. Surprised Mirth bubbled to the surface, but Undertaker said not a word knowing not to antagonize Morte anymore than he had already done.

They sat like this silently intermingling emotions as they tried to ignore each other. However as the minutes seemed to crawl by Abeebah could take it no longer. She opened her eyes, “how can you stand this”? “Practice”, he informed her wryly. Running her hand through the thick mass of her hair Abeebah looked down and finally took notice of the way she was dressed.

Indignant the dark wrestler stared down at the textured white satin hugging her bodice and long white gauzy skirt whispering against her bare feet. “Da hell”? Undertaker’s amusement again flooded around them, “I never took you for the type to wear white Morte”. “And I never pegged you for a red head”, she quipped right back. The Phenom brought a long lock of hair to eye level and sighed. “I never could lie to myself properly”.

Abeebah snorted, “so is there anything to do around here or am I going to become the world’s first deadwoman”. Not for the first time Undertaker was amused and a little disturbed, only Kane had ever made him laugh and that was when they were still children. Suddenly he got an idea. “Lets play a game”.

Abeebah never heard such an innocent question sound so menacing, “What”? “Getting to know you”, he said trying to make it not sound like something a kindergarten teacher would come up with. And judging by her toothy grin Morte was giving him he had not succeeded. “Ok but lets get some ground rules out the way”, she snorted, “and for the record that sounded so wrong on so many levels”. Undertaker didn’t even bother glaring at her.

“Rule one either of us can choose not to answer if it gets too personal”. The Phenom agreed easily enough. Morte waved her finger and clucked her tongue, “and no outburst”. “Are you implying I have no self control”? She rolled her eyes not even the least bit intimidated by the base southern drawl. Being able to sense the Phenom’s mood did wonders for her confidence. “I’m not implying anything, now come on big boy lets get it going”.

Undertaker twitched but didn’t retaliate. “What’s your real name”? “Abeebah, yours”? “Mark”, the name felt strange to say as if it were so foreign to him even if were his. Abeebah could scarcely figure out the jumble of emotions projecting off of him. So she ignored it, “Nice to meet cha’ Mark”.

He cast her a strange look, “where are you from”? “Southwest Philly, Family”, Evan had only mentioned briefly that Undertaker had a very violent psychotic little brother named Kane. “Both parents dead, little brother hates me”. Again she was bombarded by pain, and again Abeebah shrugged it off.

“My parents bit the dust too and all my siblings are accounted for”. They were both silent for a moment until Undertaker dined to meet Morte’s hazel gaze once more, “how’d you meet Vince”? “He just happened to be passing through when he saw me drop a couple of guys”, Abeebah shrugged, “I guess he was impressed”. Undertaker had the presence of mind not to question her on the subject any further.

“Why does Chyna have it in for you”? Abeebah shrugged, “hell if I know, the bitch has an attitude problem a mile wide”. He was surprised when he didn’t feel any negative emotions slither its way out of the younger wrestler. Instead she maintained a patient nonchalant demur that had him impressed the first time he laid eyes on her.

“What about you”, she asked, “What’s ya problem with DX”? Mild irritation pinched Abeebah’s skin, “they interfered in my business”. “And I guessing there ain’t no love lost between you and the boss huh”?
This time dark whispering rage slithered its way up Abeebah’s spine, it incessant taunts nearly driving her to madness before Mark could control it.

“I’ll take that as a no”, she said heavily as he finally got it under control. Undertaker breathed deeply, “You’re taking this situation better than most would”. Abeebah stared him in the eye, her Mona Lisa smile firmly in place. “I’m not most people”, was all she said as the world around them seemed to fade into darkness.

End Dream

Abeebah abruptly woke up to the sound of the shower turning on in the bathroom and Brandon no longer snoring away in his bed. Tiredly she ran a hand through the thick fall of her hair and glanced over at the clock on the night stand.

“Damn, there are not enough drugs in the world that can make this right”, she whispered to herself, trying desperately to find the humor in her predicament. Five o’clock flashed mockingly in red, with PM at the end. It felt like she hadn’t slept for a week and in an hour she would be going back to work. For a juvenile moment Abeebah contemplated ranting and raving like a child only to dismiss it just as quickly.

She looked up just in time to see her brother enter the room dressed in a pair of loose fitting jeans and long sleeved tee-shirt. “Finally awake”? Mutely Abeebah nodded and threw back her covers. Sliding out the bed she stalked over to her suite case and retrieved a fresh set of clothes. Brandon sighed in frustration; it looked like she was still in one of her moods.

He watched go to the bathroom and forcefully shut the door and he silently wondered what could have possibly set off his sister this time. “Ring”!!! The obnoxiously loud telephone interrupted his train of thought and he answered as politely as he could muster. “Hello”? “Is this Mr. Guerra”? “What is it”, Brandon didn’t feel like being nice and was fast loosing his patience.

“Yes, well this is Terry Weinberg of the scheduling committee you’ve been booked to in a match against Scorpio on Sunday night Heat”. The green eyed wrestler furrowed his brow Evan hadn’t ever made mention of wrestler called Scorpio.

“Thanks for tell me good afternoon”, and without another word he hung up. Despite being able to beat on Shawn Michaels the night before Brandon was nervous. Even as he ignored what went on inside the ring during Abeebah’s match was well aware what was going on outside the ring. Brandon had never been the focus of so many people’s attention in his entire life. And he knew that the attention would only grow once he entered the ring himself.

He heard the shower turn on and cursed silently at Abeebah’s steadfast silence when dealing with the overwhelming. They were all dealing with this situation, even her ‘little’ problem he just wished she’d trust them with that not so normal part of herself. Shaking his head Brandon left the room to go find Evan.

He needed information on the wrestler he was scheduled to fight tonight. In the shower Abeebah barely heard her brother leave as she let the hot water pour down on her tense shoulders. She closed her eyes and rested her forehead against the cool tile, trying to ignore just how tired she was. That dream was real, Abeebah was convinced but she needed confirmation. She would find the Undertaker ‘no Mark’ and get it.

‘And hopefully he won’t try to tear my head off’, Abeebah thought with grim humor. Suddenly she was hit with a feeling of reassurance, of absolute certainty, and a hint of dark humor answering her own. Abeebah sighed, “That’s just creepy”. Again like a pulse the amusement returned before ebbing away into the back of her mind.

The feelings were still there but far enough away from her own so she could ignore it. Obviously the deadman was paying attention to her mood. ‘But for how long’, she thought with a little irritation, ‘I don’t like this’. Another thrumming pulse of amusement laced with agitation answered her. He didn’t like the lack of privacy anymore than she did. Abeebah sighed and forced herself to calm down.

Undertaker wasn’t able to read her mind, just her emotions and getting angry wasn’t going to help the situation any. Brandon walked down the hall and glanced around at the identical cheap hotel doors each labeled with numbers and glanced down at the note he had found earlier.

Obviously someone had the presence of mind to tell Abeebah where her younger siblings were going to be rooming. Brandon hadn’t seen the terror duo all day and was keen on seeing them before they had to go back to the arena. Suddenly he slammed into someone and was sent tumbling to the ground. Cursing Brandon rubbed his he looked up and up and up to meet the mismatched gaze of a very tall, very robust man.

It didn’t take Brandon a long time to figure out who knocked him on his ass. Even dressed in a pair of sweats and long sleeved shirt with his hair falling in a river of curls in his face, Brandon recognized the infamous mask his little brother had described in detail. He had somehow run into the big red machine Mr. Crispy himself, Kane.

Brandon held back the urge to whimper, ‘what in the hell have I done to deserve this’? From what he could remember Evan told them Kane at best was violent and at worst just as bad as Delia when she was in the mood to cause destruction and utter mayhem. Cautiously Brandon got to his feet and schooled his face into an apologetic smile.

“Sorry man, I wasn’t pay’n attention there”. The giant of a man tilted his head in the most childlike expression Brandon had seen on anyone. The fact that an expressionless mask covered his presumably mangled visage only served to make the moment even more surreal. “Brandon”!!! Looking around the ridiculously taller man the light skinned wrestler spotted Delia who was looking on worriedly.

Sending a genuine smile the big man’s way Brandon ducked past him and grabbed his sister with another hasty apology. Kane stared after them before shrugging his massive shoulders and going about his merry way. Brandon dragged Delia around the corner and only let go when he was sure that there wasn’t anyone to over hear they’re conversation. His younger sister looked mildly shocked.

“Was that-”? “Yeah”, “And you-”, “Nearly got myself killed, yeah”. Delia shook her head disbelievingly, “come on I need something to eat before that can even to process in my head”. Brandon nodded and followed her to the room which was situated at the very end of the hall. Inside it was the same set up as his and Abeebah’s room with two beds side by side a small closet, bathroom next to the door, and a coffee table by the window.

On the coffee table were three pizza boxes and some soda and Brandon followed his sister to the table and grabbed a slice of pizza. Delia grabbed another piece and wolfed it down with gusto. Brandon passed her a napkin and she wiped her mouth. Dropping the spent piece of paper on the table Delia spoke, “so how’s our esteemed sibling”. “Still in one of her moods”, he grouched with a visible grimace.

His younger sister sent him an amused look and mock pated his bulky shoulder sympathetically. “Poor baby, not only did you nearly get killed by an overgrown Donkey Kong you had to deal with Ms. Frigid the mass murderer all night”. “And to top it off I have my first match Sunday”, Brandon mock whined right back.

Delia was visibly startled, “me two”. Brandon furrowed his brow. “Whose you’re opponent”? “Tori, you”? “Scorpio”. Delia looked as confused as Brandon felt. “Ok I guess you were looking for Evan then”. He nodded and plopped down on the bed closest to the coffee table. “So where’d our vertically challenged little brother go”, he asked. Delia shrugged her narrow shoulders and sat next to him. “Apparently there’s a pool here somewhere”.

“Not going to brave the outside world with big brother”, Brandon teased. Delia snorted, “With the way our luck has been going so far, hell no”. He grinned sardonically. “It has been a wild ride hasn’t it”? Delia grinned, “And its just getting started, imagine all the anarchy that’s just waiting out there”.

Brandon tapped her on the nose, “chill out little one, we ain’t here to look for trouble and it’s bad enough as is”. She swatted his hand away, “I’m easily bored and besides we all agreed to this being far from normal why can’t ya let ya little sister play for awhile”? “Cause you’re kinda play always leaves Abeebah cleaning up the mess”, he informed her wryly.

His younger sibling mock pouted and ran a hand through the thick fall of her hair. “But Beebs always gets to have all the fun”. Brandon rolled his eyes at Delia’s whining, she usually didn’t throw such tantrums. She always understood violence was a means to an end for their’ sister, not a pleasure to be had. ‘Situations’ always seem to happen to her no matter what Abeebah does and Delia was the one who would usually laugh it off or ‘play’ with it.

But it seemed that the stress was even getting to Delia who thrived on ‘making things more interesting’. “Please don’t go there Delia Abeebah’s bad enough, I don’t want you going ape shit on my ass two”. Delia sighed, “sorry but you must admit it is tempting”.

“Not really, that’s more you and Evan’s thing I don’t mind if it gets me what I want but the shit you two do”, Brandon mock shuttered, “I’m glad Beebs has rules”. Delia slapped him on the shoulder. “I’m not that bad”. “No you’re not”, he paused, “you’re worse”. Delia snorted but didn’t deny it.

Suddenly the door opened and the siblings saw their’ younger brother come in. The only things Evan had on were swim trunks and a towel. Wet and happy he glanced at Brandon and Delia who sat side by side watching him.“What’s up”? They glanced at each other.

“We both got matches Sunday Delia’s going up against Tori and I’m fighting some guy called Scorpio”. Momentarily Evan looked slightly worried. “Delia is gonna wipe the floor with Tori but I don’t know about your chances Scorpio is good”, he said finally. Brandon looked pensive, “how good can he be, you didn’t mention him before”.

“I also didn’t mention JJ, Al Snow, and Jazz, who by the way are all good wrestlers if a little bit less known right now than say Undertaker”. Delia rolled her eyes, “then why Vince made Abeebah tag up with him I mean we’re just some young punks from Philly”. Evan shrugged off his towel and began to dry off. “I don’t know, but whatever it is I guarantee it will come back to bite us in the ass”.

Brandon rolled his shoulders agitatedly, “thanks short stuff that’s real reassuring”. “Would you rather I lie”, Evan retorted with a raised eyebrow. Brandon snorted, “Well back to the matches why don’t you think I can win mine”. “Because this fight has rules, weren’t you paying attention to Beebs fight? She was barely able to hold her own”. Brandon looked sheepish, “I was a little busy”.

“And you say chaos is more me and Evan’s thing, you can’t say you didn’t love every moment of beating the holy hell out of HBK”, mocked Delia. Her older brother shrugged, “even I need a punching bag once in awhile”. Evan rolled his eyes. “Where’s our esteemed older sister”? “Still sulking”. Evan again looked worried, “what happened”?

Brandon shrugged, “the usual shit, but we made it to the room just fine and she slept all day”. He scratched his head even more frustrated at not knowing what was going on with Abeebah. It wasn’t as if she would out right say what was bothering her and god help him if he got the nerve to ask when she was in one of her moods. Evan and Delia found that they had similar thoughts running through their’ minds.

They fell silent for a moment before Brandon cleared his throat. “Well ain’t no use crying over spilt milk, get dressed Evan, you might as well help me do some last minute training if its gonna be that bad”, he said. His younger brother agreed easily enough and retrieved some fresh clothes before going to the bathroom. Delia got up and crossed her arms under her ample bosom. “You’re just going to up and leave me here with her”?

Brandon nodded at his sister’s incredulously betrayed tone, “damn skippy”. “Evan said that you can wipe the floor with Tori, I want to have more than a prayer to beat this dude”. Delia pouted, “Fine but you owe me”. Brandon stood and kissed her brow. “Thanks you’re the best little one”. The caramel skinned wrestler scowled her dark mocha gaze filled with amusement and annoyance at the same time.

“Whatever just show me where ya’ll room is and pray we don’t run into anybody else tonight”. Grasping her hand Brandon pulled her out the room and down the hall. This time the burly youth paid attention to where he was going and was able to avoid another case of hit and run.

They didn’t bother to stick around long enough to see whom they nearly railroaded over. It wasn’t until they were right in front of his and Abeebah’s door that Brandon realized that he forgot his key. He blushed as Delia looked at him questioningly and then sheepishly knocked on the door.

Before his younger sister could further his embarrassment Abeebah answered the door. Her chocolate curls fell heavily over her face and shoulders no longer confined in braids. Dressed in a plain cotton sweater and black jeans their’ older sibling looked a bit more relaxed and her features were no longer set in cool neutrality and instead they were favored with one of her always amused smile.

Not wanting to ruin whatever led to his sister’s good mood Brandon smiled back and elbowed Delia into doing the same. “Hey Beebs, Evan is going to help me train, me and Delia got matches Sunday”. Abeebah tilted her head inquisitively.

One some level the gesture was eerily similar to what Kane had done earlier and Brandon hoped that Abeebah wasn’t somehow linked to him two. ‘One psychopath at a time please’, he thought sarcastically. “Who you’re up against”? “Scorpio”. Abeebah looked increasingly confused, “never heard of him”. “Hence the last minute training session”. She turned to look at Delia, “what about you, you got a match two right”?

Delia’s smile was feral, “Tori”. Abeebah made a humming noise in the back of her throat, yet another buxom blond hired by McMahon. Abeebah went back inside and slung on her jacket then grabbed Brandon’s gym bag and threw it to him. Then she grabbed the key to their’ room. “I have an interview to go to”, Abeebah said in explanation when her younger sister gave her a strange look. “Let’s get Evan”.

They didn’t bother refuting her as they made their’ way back to Delia and Evan’s room. Evan was already ready and waiting for them. Dressed in his ‘horsemen gear’ the youngest Johns immediately grabbed the hotel room key and headed out with his siblings. An hour later found the Johns back at the arena and separated from each other.

Brandon, Evan, and Delia were immediately off to the gym while Abeebah was sent to a mini photo shoot/interview by some PR’s. Abeebah wasn’t surprised but no less annoyed to see that the photographer was none other than Hereto Juan. However she was relieved to see good ‘ol’ JR was there to ask the questions. As soon as the dark haired man saw her he smiled toothily and made a rotating motion with his finger.

Abeebah held back the urge to scowl as she obligingly twirled around, modeling what she already had on. The photographer tsked, “Now this wont do”. Hereto turned his back to speak with one of his assistants and Abeebah indulged herself in an irritated glare.

“Jim Ross, Ms. Morte it’s nice to meet you”. The eldest Johns turned her attention to the Oklahoma cowboy who was good naturedly smiling at her. “The pleasure is mine JR”, she replied genuinely. But she made no moved to shake the announcer’s hand, “You’ll have to understand if I’m a bit hesitant”?

“Never been interviewed before”, he asked. Abeebah nodded and wasn’t surprised when the elderly man just shrugged it off. “You wouldn’t be the first, just relax, I’ll take it easy on ya”. Smiling her gratitude Abeebah glanced toward Hereto who was now looking at her like a slab of meat.

“Now, now Sr. Ross the interview must wait”, Hereto gesture toward his assistant, “Hilary will be helping you get ready Sra. Morte”. JR looked as annoyed as Abeebah felt but made no move to argue with the man as he went to go check with the sound technician in the interviewing area.

Abeebah looked at the confident looking young woman standing next to her employer and was immediately given an apologetic smile. Almost instantly liking the girl Abeebah easily followed her to a rack of clothing that was set a little ways away from the photo set and interviewing area.

“Sorry about Hereto”, Hilary said as soon as they were out of earshot, “he’s a bit flamboyant”. It was a polite description at best but Abeebah wasn’t about to add to it. She simply nodded. Hilary glanced her way. “So what do you want to wear today”?

Abeebah looked around at what was on the rack and grimaced slightly, “Anything that isn’t skin tight, white, and going up my posterior”. The petite blond gave her a smile, “finally a woman after my own heart, well maybe not the white part I may not be able to work white but I love the color”. Hilary went through the plethora of clothes on the rack until she finally compiled an outfit.

Again Hilary smiled apologetically as she gave Abeebah her selection, “sorry but no cigar on your not skin tight request”. The brawler sighed, looking down at her ‘clothes’. The smaller woman had picked out a pair of silver stretch pants with blue sequence sewn in a diamond patterns. The top Hilary picked out was equally as immodest, a strapless corset made of borderline see through brown fabric with similar blue sequence stitched into it.

Abeebah fought back a grimace, it was better than some of the outfits she’d seen other women of the federation wear. “Where do I change”? Hilary pointed to the privacy screen just off to the side. The new wrestler was sure if Undertaker didn’t notice her mood before he did now. Abeebah was a very private person by nature and having to dress practically in front of a group of people was pushing it.

“Is there a bathroom I can change in”, she rephrased with gritted teeth. Hilary shook her head, “I’ll stand in front of the screen if you want”. Thankful once again the dark skinned brawler nodded and quickly went behind the screen to change. True to her word Hilary stood in front of the screen with her back to Abeebah. “So how long have you been wrestling”, the assistant asked.

Glancing toward Hilary’s silhouetted form Abeebah shrugged even though she couldn’t see it, “A few weeks, but I’ve been fighting my entire life”. “Wow you must be a natural”. Again she shrugged, “I just happen to be good at beating on people”, Abeebah deadpanned.

Hilary glanced over her shoulder, “yeah we get plenty of those around here”, she said cheekily. Abeebah snorted but didn’t reply as she struggled to tighten the silken cords in the back of the corset. Finally after the fifth try, she asked for help.

Hilary was quick and polite and wisely didn’t make fun of her difficulty with something as simple as pulling string tight. Done Hilary circled Abeebah assessing the outfit now clinging to her curvaceous body. Hilary smiled, “you look great”. “I feel naked”. The short blond shrugged her shoulders.

“I did the best I could considering the clothes that Hereto picked out for you”, “like I said he’s a bit of a drama queen”. Abeebah didn’t disagree with her. Rubbing her hands together Hilary smiled widely, “Ok lets get you some boots and mask I think we should leave your hair alone”.

Abeebah followed her back to the rack were the clothes were hung and noticed that there were a few pairs of shoes and at least seven mask set on a table right next to it. “Do I really have to wear a mask for this”? Once again Hilary shrugged, “apparently Mr. McMahon thought your wearing a mask was a great idea”.

Abeebah imagined herself strangling the presumptuous prick. It only made her feel slightly better. Sighing she looked down at the row of mask that lay before her. Immediately her eyes zeroed in on a plain silver looking mask that was bare save the painted blue shadows around the eye holes.

It was the least elaborate of the bunch but beautifully crafted, which suited Abeebah just fine. She smiled wryly as she put it on. Like any girl she liked pretty things and as bad ass as she was Abeebah indulged her inner little girl once in a while. Hilary gave her a thumbs up. “Damn girl I like your style, now shoes”.

Under the mask Abeebah grinned almost reluctantly at Hilary’s enthusiasm. The blond energetically bobbed around the table showing her shoes she thought would best go with the outfit Abeebah had on until the brawler finally picked some sheer brown flats. Hilary took a deep breath and escorted her back to the photo shoot area where Hereto was waiting.

The Latino man smiled ear to ear when he saw her and made to once again take hold of her hand only for Abeebah to side step his attempt. Still he smiled at her, “Sra. Morte you are now a vision”. Hilary held back the urge to roll her eyes and glance toward Abeebah who had been one of her easiest assignments to dress.

Abeebah stood slightly behind her, her posture relaxed but her eyes twitching almost madly under the mask, “Thank you Sr. Juan”. Hereto smiled at her with all of his Latin charm, but once again failed to get any reaction besides Abeebah’s glacial politeness. He either ignored the wrestler’s obvious distant mood or didn’t care as he directed her to where the background for the photo shoot had been set up.

Not bothering to examine what was chosen Abeebah stood in front of the camera and ran a hand through her hair and away from her face. Suddenly the camera flashed and she gave an irritated sigh at Hereto whom had already begun taking photos. Abeebah wondered silently how other wrestler’s put up with this sort of thing as Hereto called for her to do poses and be more ‘seductive’.

She didn’t bother to contain the sneer that pulled at her lips and bared her teeth under the mask. Cocking her head sideways she stared daggers at the photographer through lowered lashes with one hand on her hip and the other hanging loosely at her side.

Hereto’s eyes lit up like Christmas lights, “That’s perfect, Ms. Morte, dangerous temptress”. Abeebah’s hand twitched, ‘calm, he’s just being melodramatic, calm, you are not going to sink to that level no matter how annoying this rectal itch is, calm’.

It took a minute of repeating that mantra in her head but somehow Abeebah managed to not give into the urge to do bodily harm. And by that time the shoot was done and she went off to do her interview with JR. The interview was mercifully short and JR took it easy on Abeebah, calming her sorely tested nerves immensely.

For his part JR was impressed by the young woman before him and could see why she had managed to get along with the Phenom during their’ match together. Morte was polite yet had a quiet almost chilling humor that wasn’t overbearing.

During the entire interview she was always respectful and always spoke with a matter of fact tone to her voice. She made no arrogant statements or bragging comments and in fact pointed out she couldn’t care less if Chyna wanted to fight her again. She fought the ninth wonder because that was the match, not some personal vendetta and would fight Chyna again if it came to that.

After the interview Abeebah changed back to her normal clothes only to have Hilary hand her a bag with the clothes she wore for the shoot in it. Confused she stared at the assistant. The small blond rolled her eyes, “All the wrestles have ‘out of ring clothing’ for when they do things like promos, interviews, and stuff plus you’re getting this free from McMahon himself”.

For a moment Abeebah contemplated the merits of arguing that she did need ‘anything’ from the leech but then decided it was better to except it. She smiled tightly at the older woman, “thanks for everything, see ya around”. Hilary nodded and Abeebah left to go watch her siblings work out.

When she got there her siblings didn’t even acknowledge her presence, too caught up in their’ training with Evan couching his elder siblings. Abeebah didn’t mind overly much and merely watched as they beat the living hell out of each other and occasionally taking pointers from their’ younger sibling along the way.

It wasn’t until thirty minutes later when they started to do their’ cool down workouts that they finally noticed her. As usual Delia gave her sister a colorful greeting. Brandon only looked mildly annoyed while Evan looked both agitated and embarrassed by getting caught off guard.

“You could have said something”, he all but spat angrily before he could stop himself. Abeebah just gave him an amused smile, “but you looked like you were having such fun”. Brandon snorted; she was finally back to normal. The Johns returned to the hotel shortly after and began to train every other day for the rest of the week.

Sunday came too quickly in Brandon’s opinion as he got ready for his match against Scorpio which was scheduled later on that evening. All the Johns were dressed in their’ ring attire while they waited for his and Delia’s matches to come. Delia would be fighting after Vader versus Godfather match up.

Evan would valet for Delia while Abeebah would valet for Brandon, making sure that the degenerates of DX didn’t try to interfere with her younger brother’s match in some backwards notion of vengeance. The light skinned wrestler stared at his reflection.

The tone of his skin was paler than normal and his muscles tense under the comfortable fall of his blue collared white shirt. He could feel the stadium shaking as the pyros went off signaling the beginning of the show. “Calm down”. He glanced toward the covered visage of Abeebah who was regarding him out of the corner of her eye.

Brandon held back the urge to snap. She was right and had gone through something far more trying than the match he was about to go through. “Can’t help it if I’m nervous Beebs”. “I know”. She glanced toward where Delia was shadow boxing and Evan was watching her.

“But there’s nothing you can do right now so there’s no point in worrying”. Brandon pouted, “what no ‘you’re gonna wipe the floor with his ass’ speech”? “I can’t guarantee that and I’m not going to lie to you”, her tone was amused.

Brandon smiled, “You were always the pessimistic one”. “And I always will be, besides I leave being optimistic to you”, Abeebah teased right back. Her brother shrugged and ran a bandaged hand over his neatly shaven scalp. “I like the phrase forward thinking a bit better”. Abeebah sent an amused look his way but said nothing.

Most of the time they needed no words between them, Abeebah knew he needed subtle encouragement and Brandon was thankful in his own quite way once he received it. Sometimes many including himself wondered if they were twins somehow despite the six month age differential. “Hey”, they both glanced toward their’ younger sister, “want to go and check out the other guys”?

Abeebah got up from her seat on the bench, “why not”. She followed a bouncing Delia out the door with Evan at her side and Brandon following reluctantly behind her. At the arena the crowd was cheering loudly over Michael Cole and JR as they made the announcement that the Undertaker would be facing HBK in a casket match at Summerslam.

The victory wetted the fans appetite and they were looking forward to an all out war between Undertaker and the heart break kid. And there was still speculation about the WWF’s newest clique the horsemen. Morte had proved devastating in her own right by going toe to toe with Chyna and holding her own with Triple H yet they had only got a glimpse of Guerra who had run interference on Shawn Michaels.

The crowd went nuts when JR said the rest of the horsemen would be premiering that very night. They even cheered louder when the interview he had with Morte earlier in the week played on the Titantron. “First let me thank you for doing this interview, as you undoubtedly know many of the WWF and its fans are curious about you”. JR was sitting on a couch opposite of Morte his eyes trained studiously on the rookie.

Morte tilted her head slightly and gave a graceful shrug of her bare shoulders. “I’m content to assuage their’ curiosity”, she responded thoughtfully. “Well I guess I’ll have to start with your victory with the Undertaker against Chyna and Triple H, it’s my understanding that was your first ever match not only in the WWF but as a professional wrestler”.

She nodded, “yes it was JR, I’m no stranger to fights but that was the first time I wrestled outside of the practice matches with my brother and sister”. The Oklahoma cowboy looked impressed. “And what about the other horsemen”?

Under the mask Abeebah raised an eyebrow, “My brothers Guerra and Lue, my sister Viluppo, and I are the horsemen”. Surprised JR adjusted his glasses, “And all of you are wrestlers”. “Lue is our manager/assistant because he’s too young to wrestle but Guerra and Viluppo debut in their’ matches Sunday”.

“Care to share who they’ll be fighting against”. Hazel eyes glittered teasingly under lowered lashes. “And spoil the surprise”, her lips hidden under the mask pulled back into a feral grin, “perish the thought”. Clearing his throat JR nodded, “Well back to your match with the Undertaker, Chyna obviously wasn’t too thrilled at having a rookie beat her, no offense”.

Morte shrugged again, “none taken”. “But aren’t you afraid of possible retaliation by DX”? If possible Morte looked thoughtful, with her hands interlocking in front of her masked face, “the thought had occurred, yes”. “But JR if they are so petty as to start something then so be it”. She tilted her head slightly and leaned back, “what was in the ring was business and whatever personal shit they bring to the ring is their’ problem not mine”.

Stunned the elderly announcer stared slightly agape at the seemingly slightly amused young woman before her. “Not many would take the live and let live policy in the WWF”, he managed to say. “It’s more like a don’t start no shit won’t be no shit policy, I don’t take an particular pleasure out of violence but I’m perfectly than capable of dishing more than my fair share of suffering when I’m in the mood”.

The titantron faded to black and the crowd cheered again nearly drowning out JR and Michael Cole as they discussed the footage. “Bold words from the rookie JR, I just hope for her sake she can back them up”. The Oklahoma cowboy smiled at his co-host, “Oh I have no doubt she can Michael, any girl who not only can tag with the Undertaker take out Chyna and go toe to toe with Triple H has to be pack’n some serious heat”.

The thin co-anchor looked pensive, “I don’t doubt that JR but come on this is DX we’re talking about here and I don’t think the odds are in Morte’s favor”. “I wouldn’t count out that young lady just yet Michael”. As prove his words correct the lights surrounding them suddenly dimmed and went blue as Morte’s theme music played on the Titantron. They went wild as she walked out onto the ramp and she wasn’t alone.

Standing at Morte’s left and right were two guys and one girl. Jim Ross and many of the audience recognized Guerra who had made sure that Shawn Michaels hadn’t interfered in his sister’s match. The other two Cole and JR assumed were Morte’s other siblings Viluppo and Lue. Viluppo, they both noted moved differently than her siblings.

The best way to describe her was bouncy, as she blew kisses to the crowd and sashayed down the ramp as if it was fashion runway. Not even Lue, whom they assumed was the youngest because of his sized moved with such energy. “Whoa! They’re coming our way JR”. The elderly announcer rolled his eyes at the obvious statement.

The four made they’re way to the announcement both and a ring technician quickly came over and opened chairs for them next to JR. “Hello JR”, Morte sat next to her youngest sibling and turned her head slightly to watch both announcers. “Pardon my rudeness Morte but what are you doing out here and I can only assume these are your siblings you were talking about earlier”, JR asked.

The technician handed each of them a headset. Abeebah put hers on with a shrug, “Lue wanted to watch the other matches, this just happened to be the best seats in the house”. JR laughed when the young boy sitting next to him scowled, trying to fruitlessly to cover his embarrassment.

“And your assumption is correct these are the other horsemen, the one sitting next to you JR is Lue, and the one next to you Michael Cole is Viluppo and I believe you already know Guerra”. The Oklahoma cowboy tipped his hat to each of them as Michael Cole exchanged greetings with each of the siblings.

“So who’s fighting first”, asked Viluppo cheerily. Nervously Cole looked down at the stats they were given for the night. “Well first up tonight is a tag team match with the Hardys going up against the insane clown posse”. Only Lue didn’t look blankly at the man. “Speaking of matches what about you’re two tonight”, JR smiled at Guerra and Viluppo.

The latter grinned back in a feral manner, “there’s not much to tell, but I will say this Madison Square garden better be ready for a beating”. “Strong words”, he turned toward Guerra not even paying attention as the Hardys started to make their’ entrance, “what about you”.

For a moment Brandon considered the thought of remaining silent but seeing the expectant look on Delia’s face quickly shot that train of thought down. “I’m looking forward to the challenge my opponent will present”, he said diplomatically.

Suddenly the lights went out, “what the hell”? ‘My thoughts exactly’, Abeebah tensed as a haunting tune sounded throughout the stadium, Brandon’s hand on her own ready to move at a moments notice. Then the pyros on the ramp went off and red light filled the entire arena of thunderously loud fans.

“Oh my god its Kane, what in the hell is Kane doing here”!!! Abeebah ignored JR’s ranting, “Lue”. Her younger brother’s eyes were transfixed on the Goliath approaching the ring along with everyone else. “Not a fucking clue sis not a fucking clue”.

They all watched in stunned amazement as the big red machine proceeded to enter the ring and kick the high holy hell out of the Hardys for no apparent reason while Paul Bearer got a microphone and entered the ring while the behemoth that was Kane picked the Hardys apart.

It only took moments for the duo to be thoroughly trounced and discarded outside the ring via double choke slam. “Think they’ll be able to walk after that”, asked Delia staring at the fallen brothers. Guerra wasn’t as amused, “let’s go”. Silently agreeing with him Abeebah pulled off her headset and made to get up and leave the announcers table.

“WHERE DO YOU THINK YOU’RE GO’N”? Looking up Abeebah met the beady eyed glare of one Paul Bearer. Brandon was about to rise as well to stand by his sister’s side but she kicked his ankle and quickly shot significant looks toward their’ younger siblings, stilling him.

‘How in the hell do I get myself in these situations’, she thought sourly as a ring technician unceremoniously handed her a microphone. “Not to be rude but that’s none of your business”. Abeebah’s focus narrowed in on the two being standing in the ring as the ever strident voice of Paul disgraced the mic. “NOW SEE HER-”. “For the love of god please shut up”, she interrupted.

“Whatever your business out here is its none of my business but if I have to hear another bitch whine one more time this week, somebody’s gonna get hurt and it ain’t gonna be me”. “YOU DARE THREA-”. “What part of shut up don’t you understand”, Abeebah felt the sharp bite of her own anger digging into her skin. Trying to calm down She took a deep breath and looked up in the ring only to meet the mismatched gaze of Kane.

The world stilled. Neither she nor he could breath. Abeebah could feel him in an instant, scalding pain awash down her spine. And Kane in turn could he feel her all steel and frost quelling any thought of doing the fat man’s bidding.

Instead he was curious, curious about this being who he knew held no ill intention toward him. He stepped forward and put a hand on Bearer’s shoulder stilling his ranting. The world was moving once again but it didn’t matter. Blue and green regarded near burnished gold searchingly. Kane could see past the layers of rime coating the windows to her soul.

She was just as angry as he, just as confused, just as hurt, yet she was not broken. Torment held no place in her heart. ‘How’, his wrecked heart screamed in agony and Abeebah visibly flinched. “Beebs”, no longer wearing a head set Delia kept her eyes on Paul while she tried to inconspicuously to get closer to her sister. Abeebah put the mic down, “we’re leaving now”.

“No argument here”, Brandon stood to his feet and took off the head set he was given Evan doing the same, staring at the big red machine. Kane’s gaze never wavered from Abeebah’s own, ‘Run if you want, I’ll be waiting’, his mind whispered to hers.

Had Abeebah not been wearing a mask the entire world would have seen her slack jawed expression. She broke eye contact but not before sent a parting shot of her own, ‘Come at me to your own peril’, she thought before leaving behind the speculating crowd and announcers.

Translations
Hola Sra. Morte- Hello Ms. Morte
No el placer es el mío Sr. Juan- No the pleasure is all mine
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The Four Horsemen