Raw was alive with noise and excitement as the beautiful, world-renowned women wrestler, Chyna made her way into the ring where her opponent, Road Dogg waited patiently for her. It was no question about it that this would be one hell of a match between the humorous, neon green-loving challenger and the world's most dangerous women.
She kept a heavy gaze on him as she paced side to side, noticing a wide, taunting grin on his face as he invited her with his own gaze. The crowd roared furiously all around them; some chanting the name of Chyna while others chanted for the Road Dogg. Even he knew that this women was like an angry bull after having been in an organization with her. Pretty soon the bells rang for the match to start and both fighters immediately sprang into action.
Chyna was the first to strike, delivering a fatal clothesline to Road Dogg's throat and knocking him onto his back. He immediately rose and punched her in the gut, elbowing her in the back when she bent forward. She quickly absorbed the pain and moved around him, wrapping her arms around him and dropping him onto her leg to shatter his tailbone. He bounced for a moment and then came at her with a clothesline which she dodged and countered with a sidekick. Head snapping sideways, he fell to the floor and Chyna leg-dropped him hard, nearly knocking the wind right out of him. She went for the pin, but Road Dogg kicked out after two counts. She was a little angered and decided to unleash her full fury. Picking him up, she dropped him with a DDT and while he was trying to recover, she climbed to the top rope and slammed her weight down on him like a meteor.
Now she was sure she had him. It had been a rather short and simple match. She covered him with her body again and the referee began to count. At last, she thought. His world championship title is about to be mine. Her confidence grew as she listened to the cheering audience and the countdown, but just as the referee was about to hit the third count, the lights blacked out suddenly. The smirk that had been on her face a minute ago was now a gaping hole as she sat upright and looked about, confused in the darkness. The inky blackness was so thick she could hardly see past her own hand and the audience around her was roaring madly. She knew only one person who could make the arena this dark, and that was the Undertaker himself, but for some reason, she couldn't hear his entrance theme. For some reason, nothing was happening. Road Dogg didn't even bother to recover. If this really was an appearance from the Deadman, he knew it would be best to stay down. But what if he was the target?
Chyna rose to her feet and got into a solid stance, preparing herself for the encounter. "Come on!" She shouted boldly into the darkness. "Come and get me, Deadman!" She was lucky to have been such a strong, courageous woman or she probably would have left the ring like any other punk on the roster. But according to her, there was no backing down from a fight. Never. "Get your ass in this ring! I'm not scared of you!" And a split second after the words left her mouth, the lights flashed back on and her expression of fury instantly changed. She stared straight ahead, saw nothing but a million cameras flashing and signs waving all about the standing audience. But to her surprise, there was no Undertaker. In fact, there was no one in the ring besides herself and Road Dogg. Atleast...that was what she thought...
She noticed that Road Dogg was sitting upright and staring past her with a look of confusion, his eyes slightly widened. She frowned at him and then slowly began turning her head, almost not wanting to see what was behind her. And out of the corner of her eye, she spotted a dark figure. Motionless as a statue, standing about her same height. A bit alarmed, Chyna made a violent whirl and came face to face with what her opponent was staring at. And he had every right to stare. It was most definitely not the Undertaker. In fact, it was quite inferior compared to the Undertaker, but when Chyna beheld this being, she could easily call it something straight out of hell.
A pair of icy blue eyes stared right back at Chyna and she realized that it was a woman she had never seen before. Slender with highly-noticeable curves and an expressionless, yet beautiful face that was framed by a curtain of waist-length, midnight black hair, she stood completely still with her arms by her sides and her feet solidly planted. She was dressed in a black victorian corset with dark purple laces that exposed a portion of her midsection and bust line, skin-tight leather bottoms with a large, dark purple pentagram embedded on both outer seams, tucked into a pair of laced platform boots. A very peculiar neclace hung from around her neck, a silver pyramid with a large red eye in the center. Red like her plush lips that went perfectly with her black eye shadow and pale foundation. This woman's arcane appearance truly molded into a beauty Chyna had never before seen. And for the first time in several weeks, she was actually a bit unnerved by this woman and her ice cold stare.
Chyna gulped, a bit lost; a bit taken aback. And at the first sign of fear, the woman attacked full force. Before Chyna could even think to react, the woman performed one of the swiftest spin-kicks anyone had ever seen and nearly shattered her face with the bottom of her boot. The last thing Chyna saw was a bright, white light flash in her eyes and then she collapsed backwards, now engulfed in pitch blackness. Unlike the darkness she'd seen earlier, this blackness was complete unconsciousness. She was out cold. Taken down quicker than she'd ever been taken down before in her career.
Utterly astonished, Road Dogg's mouth fell agape at what he had just seen and he began to scoot away. The woman's icy blue eyes instantly fell on him and it he could have sworn he nearly shit his pants. She stepped slowly toward him, the coldness of her expression seeming to right doom upon his soul. The way she moved was like a still shadow, silent and smooth as a ghostly wind. He had no idea who this woman was but something was telling him that he was in grave danger. And that something was right. The woman planted her knee-high laced boot down on his throat in order to keep him still. He wriggled beneath her and gripped her ankle, but before she could even attempt to pry her off, she stomped with almost all her effort. Excruciating pain instantly shot up his throat as he rolled over and released a choked cough. It felt like his windpipe had been damn near shattered.
The crowd roared negatively at this unknown woman. But she simply ignored the feedback and stepped away from her second victim of attack, staring down at his writhing body, inwardly scoffing at how pathetic he was. It begins now, were the words that echoed in her mind before she eventually turned to leave. She flexibly slid beneath the bottom rope, the motion so feline and smooth it made a few eyes widen. Once outside the ring, she didn't even bother with the hair that veiled her face, simply carried on up the ramp as if none of what had happened mattered to her. And it didn't. She neither looked back nor thought twice about what she had done. Her mission for the night had been accomplished whether the crowd liked it or not. Hell is waiting for them.
"So who was that exactly?" Chyna said loudly, her voice edged with anger. She was sitting on a couch in her locker room, holding an ice pack to her temple.
Her friend Hunter Hearst Helmsley sat across from her with his hand covering hers, making sure the ice pack was doing its job. "No one knows accept McMahon, Chyna." He answered, shrugging. "But that doesn't matter. Your health is more important."
"No." Chyna seemed to cut the air with her dagger-sharp tone. "What's more important is finding out who that woman is and kicking her ass for what she did to me out there. I coulda had that title, Hunter!"
"I know. I know." Hunter sighed, holding his hand up slightly. "But, please, just calm down for now. Your anger isn't making your head feel any better."
Chyna winced at a slight twinge of pain that pulsed through her skull. "Damn. That bitch sure can deliver a kick. I coulda sworn my damn nose flew off my face."
Hunter looked over her facial features. Nothing was particularly damaged, only a small gash streaked across her forehead right above her left eye. They put gauge on it, but the blood was still seeping through like a well. "I saw." He agreed, wishing he hadn't when he saw the look Chyna gave him. "And what up with that victorian vampire look?"
"She looks like a goddamn walking corpse."
"Yeah, but a hot walking corpse." Hunter chuckled with that statement, but was silenced when Chyna reached out and slapped him upside the head with her massive hand. "Ow, girl" He whined. "What sensible heterosexual male wouldn't agree with me?"
"There are SEVERAL in this business who wouldn't. Believe me."
Hunter twisted his face. "Feeling any better?" He quickly changed the subject.
Chyna winced again. "Just a bit dizzy. I'm pretty sure my brain slammed into every part of my skull. Probably still rattling like a salt-shaker."
"You should be just fine and ready to kick some more ass soon, Chyna. Hopefully. In the mean time, I'm gonna go get us some drinks. What would you like?"
"Steel me a Brewski from Stone Cold Steve Austin. And don't take forever. I'm fucking thirsty as hell after that ass-whoopin out there."
Hunter's eyes widened. "He'll kick my ass for taking one of those things. You know him."
"Fine." Chyna grumbled, standing to her feet. "I'll just get it myself since you're too much of a–"
"No." Hunter quickly stood and stopped her. "Alright. I'll get it, but just stay here and recover, okay? No leaving this room."
Chyna stared at him for a moment, then slowly sat back down, keeping her eyes on him. After making sure she wouldn't move, Hunter left the room and ventured down the hall. "So demanding." He muttered as he read the names on the passing doors. "Austin. Where's Austin?" Soon he found his destination at the very end of the hallway and stopped. He leaned toward the door in order to hear any sounds from the other side. When he heard none, he gripped the knob and turned, slowly pushing the door open. Luckily, the Texas Rattlesnake was nowhere in sight, so he could easily slip in and slip out unnoticed.
He looked up and down the hall before bolting into the room. The six-pack was on a card table in the back of the room. He quickly made his way toward it and took two cans, looking over his shoulder to make sure no one was snooping by the room. Then turned and left the room as quick as possible. On the way out, he turned to close the door, and the very second it shut, a strange tingly feeling came over him. His shoulders tensed as he got that 'someone-is-watching-me feeling and the hairs on the back of his neck stood. For a moment, he stood frozen, and then he slowly turned.
It was most unexpected that he had met a pair of icy blue eyes planted into a face so expressionless it was practically corpse-like. He became rooted in place by a piercing stare. It was her. And although she was a bit shorter than himself, she was the most intimidating woman he had ever seen. More intimidating than Chyna. He swallowed hard. "Uh, h-hi." He stammered, trying to play it off with a small chuckle, but even the chuckle came out nervously.
The woman said nothing, only continued to stare. She was standing erect before him, still as a stature. Her eyes didn't even blink.
"I don't think we've met before." Hunter continued. "But I gotta warn you. You messed with the wrong woman here on Raw so I would advise you to watch your back."
Still no response.
"Hello?" Hunter raised his eyebrows and waved his hand infront of her face. "Can you understand the words that are coming out of my mouth?"
In an almost blinding movement, the woman caught Hunter's wrist and her grip was so powerful he couldn't break it. She twisted it outward and yanked, causing him to bend slightly and turn, his arm now pinned behind his back. "Ow. Okay, okay!" He winced as pain seared through his shoulder. "I'm just warning you. Geez."
The woman reached around him and snatched one of the cans of Brewski, then turned him loose and walked off. Hunter released a breath of relief as his arm returned to a normal position. He massaged his shoulder as he watched her leave, her feet silent upon the floor.