A/N: I don't own any names I use.

New day, new story. A little dark. Hope you like it though, let me know what you think, even if you don't think it's that good. Thanks and enjoy, I hope. :)


This prayer is for me tonight
This far down the line
And still ain't got it right
And while confessions are not yet stated
Our next sin is contemplated…

Fuel: Innocent


Stephanie McMahon's eyes fluttered for a few seconds. Her temples were throbbing relentlessly as she gradually regained consciousness. She groaned, her eyes half-opening and her vision blurred. She was laying on the floor somewhere, her charcoal business suit now a wrinkled mess. Her wavy brown hair which she had spent an hour getting done was now wild and untamed. She slowly pushed herself up so she was sitting, her head pounding and feeling like it would crack in two. A pained moan escaped her as she squinted, trying to see where she was. It was dark, so dark she could barely see herself, much less her surroundings. Stephanie blinked a few times, willing her eyes to focus so she could see.

The more oriented she became, the more fear overwhelmed her. She had no idea what had happened to have her wake up here, wherever here was. Looking down, Stephanie checked her suit, instinctively searching for her cell phone.

But there was nothing.

Panic flared through her – she never went anywhere without her cell phone. She took a deep breath, her lawyer nature kicking in. There had to be a logical explanation. Stephanie closed her eyes and slowly began to retrace her steps…

She had had her paperwork prepared for the first of many briefings on her latest case, and had put it all in her leather briefcase.

She had checked to make sure she had everything, and then double checked for good measure.

She had gone down the elevator of her building to the parking lot.

She had greeted the security guard who was entering the elevator while she exited it.

It was so early that it was still dark outside.

She had seen her car and made a mental note that she needed it washed on her way back home.

She had searched for her keys.

Then nothing.

Fear paralyzed her when she realized she could not will her memory to work past her searching for her keys. One second she had been wondering where her keys were; the next second, she was waking up on the floor in some dark place. Stephanie swallowed heavily as she slowly got up to her feet. She swayed a little, before shaking her head to rid herself of the lingering haze. Her balance somewhat restored, the frazzled woman began to slowly inch her way forward, her hands in front of her so she wouldn't run into anything.

"Hello?" she called out warily, her voice hoarse. She moved forward a little more. "Hello? Is anyone there? Can anyone hear me?" Stephanie stopped inching forward when her thighs ran into something. She gasped and brought her hands down, her palms pressing against what felt like a table. Her eyes were slowly focusing as they adjusted to the darkness, and she could somewhat make out the table. Stephanie squeezed her eyes shut, holding back unshed tears of fear and frustration, and screamed, "CAN ANYONE HEAR ME?"

"I suggest you shut the hell up, before I shut you up permanently," a soft-spoken but cold voice responded.

Stephanie's eyes widened and she blinked back her tears as she looked around her. "Who are you? Where are you?" she asked, trying to make herself sound confident and brave even though her body began to tremble at the man's voice.

The man laughed without any humor in his voice. "I liked you better when you were unconscious. At least then you were quiet."

"Answer me," Stephanie demanded, her voice unwavering.

"Sorry, princess," came the snide reply. The voice was closer to her now, sending chills down Stephanie's back. "But you're not the boss here, and I don't take orders from you."

Stephanie opened her mouth to say something when a harsh sliding sound across a rail rang out. She squinted, her surroundings suddenly illuminated with the light of the moon outside. She glanced around and saw that she was in some kind of hotel room. There was a bed, and the table she had just run into with two chairs at the foot of the bed. There was also a large window, and she could see that the room was on the third or fourth floor. It was a low-end hotel room from what she could tell, a seedy place with a frightening vibe.

Most frightening of all though was the silhouette of a man standing next to the window, holding the drawn curtains back. She couldn't make him out from where she was. He was standing in the darkness, just out of the light of the moon. She could see his outline, and as her eyes wandered down, she could see the outline of what he was holding in his hand.

She opened her mouth to speak, but her mouth was dry and she had no words. Her eyes quickly scanned the room, and she saw two doors. One must have been for the bathroom. The other had locks on it. That one must have been the exit. If she could make it out through that door, she would be in a public place. There would be cameras. She would be able to call the police. She would be safe.

In less than one second, she assessed and decided.

Fight or flight.

Fight or flight?

Flight.

Stephanie ran to the door with the locks, not looking back, her fear for her life giving her newfound speed. She was at the door, her trembling hands trying to undo the locks as quickly as humanly possible. She heard footsteps behind her and remembered that the monster behind her was armed. Seeing that she couldn't unlock the door and sheer panic overwhelming her, Stephanie tried just opening the door, praying it would somehow by some miracle swing open.

An arm suddenly shot out from behind her, going right past her head until the palm pressed forcefully against the door. Stephanie could feel his breath right behind her ear as he stood dangerously close to her from behind.

"You're not going anywhere," he told her, his voice void of emotion.

"I'll scream," she warned. The man smirked from behind her, and suddenly removed his hand from the door and used that hand to harshly grab a fistful of her hair.

"I got this room sound-proofed, so go ahead," he challenged as Stephanie screamed from the pain.

Fight.

The man's eyes widened when Stephanie hit him in the nose with her elbow. He snorted, backing up when he felt warm blood trickle down from his nose to his lips. He licked his lips, feeling his nose a little and saw her once again trying the locks. She looked over her shoulder at her abductor, still not able to see his face. With the light from the moon shining in from behind him though, she could see his disheveled blond hair.

She looked back to the locks and with steadier hands managed to unlock one. Stephanie noticed with dismay though that the others needed keys. She began to pound on the door, only then realizing that there was padding in place for sound-proofing. She didn't care though and just pounded harder, some of her hair now sticking to her face from her sweat.

Suddenly, his arms came around her head as he pulled her into a sleeper hold. Stephanie gasped and immediately regretted it as she felt his hold tighten, and her oxygen supply being severely cut down. She struggled against him, but he had an iron hold.

He didn't let go, no expression on his face as she tried to reach back for his hair. He felt her try to kick back into his crotch, and he was mildly impressed by that as he avoided her attempt. He felt her start to weaken, and he loosened his hold a little when her arms fell. He let go when he felt her body go completely limp, and easily swept her up into his arms so she wouldn't fall. He turned and walked back over to the bed, before placing her there.

The man's blue eyes studied her critically for a moment, before leaning down and pressing two fingers on the side of her neck to check her heart rate. He then reached up and let his hand hover right over her nose and mouth, feeling her breathing pattern. Satisfied that she would be fine, he remained there a moment longer, just looking at her. She was lying in the full light of the moon, and he hadn't seen her so clearly before. When he had walked in and traded places with Randy, her true abductor, the girl had been lying on the floor in the darkness. He hadn't bothered to move her, figuring she would wake up soon anyways. And not even ten minutes later, she had.

Now he found himself looking at her, an unreadable expression on his face betraying unreadable emotions inside of him.

He shook his head and looked away, walking around the bed and going to the table that Stephanie had run into earlier. He took a seat, facing the window and the light it was emitting. He moved his gun aside that he had left on the table a few minutes earlier as he had walked over to silence the girl, and kicked his feet up on the table instead, crossing them at the ankle. Reaching into his jacket, he pulled out a packet of cigarettes and a lighter.

He felt his cell phone vibrate in his pocket just as he was about to light up, and he sighed deeply. He pulled it out, turned off the vibrating, and set it on the table next to his gun, groaning when he saw that it was his boss.

That asshole can wait, he thought to himself, putting the cigarette into his mouth. He lifted the lighter and flicked it on, his hands mildly shaking as he lit his cigarette. He took a hit and the shaking disappeared. He closed his eyes, letting his nerves settle down but knowing that he would catch hell if he didn't pick up. Sighing, he reached down and answered the phone.

"Yeah," he answered, his tone bored.

"Is she still there?"

He rolled his eyes, "Yes, she's still here."

"How is she?"

He took a hit and exhaled a stream of smoke while eyeing the woman on the bed, "Sleeping," he finally answered, his tone empty.

"Good, glad to see you haven't blown her head off yet."

The blond man chuckled humorlessly. "How long do you plan on keeping me on this bullshit babysitting job?"

"Why, Chris? Are you too good for this job?"

The tone was challenging. It was a challenge he knew he couldn't meet. Chris sucked at his teeth and closed his eyes, biting back the scathing words he had coursing through his mind.

"No," he finally answered. His hands began to shake again, and he brought the cigarette back up to his lips to fix that.

"Good," came the satisfied reply. "You remember asshole, you work for me. So I don't want to hear your shit. I need you to watch this girl and not let her go anywhere. Do you understand?"

"This isn't my first fucking barbeque," Chris replied snidely, blowing smoke and wishing it went into the phone and gave the other man lung cancer. "I know how to do my job, Paul."

"Then do it and quit bitching," Paul snapped. A muscle in Chris's jaw flexed, but he remained silent. "Keep the girl alive for now. We'll deal with her later. Don't let her go anywhere."

"Whatever you say… boss," Chris said, forcing himself to be monotone.

"Randy will be by in the morning to check in."

"Fine."

He was met with a dial tone. Chris let the phone fall to the table, before angrily shoving it completely off. He grumbled a little to himself as he put the cigarette back in his mouth, leaning back in his chair and staring into the night.

Usually, Randy was the babysitter. Chris had only done these bullshit jobs when he was a rookie first starting out. But now, he had progressed. Now he only came into the picture when it was time. It was always his finger pulling that trigger as he mercilessly ended the life of whoever was deemed to have a life that needed ending. Sometimes he did it in person. Sometimes he did it sniper style. But it was always him. He was the best.

But Paul didn't trust Randy with this girl. This girl was different and required the best to be there every step of the way to the end. This girl required Chris to drop everything else he had going on and focus completely on her. Chris glanced curiously at the girl, scowling at her sleeping form.

What made her so damn special? Why did he have to drag this out when he knew how the story would end? To show mercy would be to stroll over and put a bullet in between the girl's eyes, and end her existence in her sleep where she would feel no pain at all. Instead, he was at Paul's whim. He ignored the feeling of hatred that seeped up through him at the thought of that man.

He glanced back at her again. She looked like the successful lawyer that Paul had said she was. In fact, she was quite gorgeous. Chris hadn't exactly been expecting that. He looked back out the window, removing the cigarette from his mouth and exhaling deeply.

The sooner Paul gave the order to get rid of the girl, the better…