The noise from the crown in the arena was truly deafening. The fireworks shot up screaming from the main platform, causing even more uproar from the fans attending the show. Finally the lights were turned on and thousands of people were screaming and waving their arms in hope to catch a camera to turn their way.

Behind the ring, where a table was set up two men sat briefly scanning over a computer panel that held the itinerary for the event. One man, who called himself Jerry "The King" Lawler, glanced up and smiled to the oncoming camera. Another man, wearing a black cowboy hat, named Jim Ross looked up as well. Both men, were announcing for view screens that were covering the footage to areas outside the arena.

Backstage, one man was busy with makeup artists fixing his wardrobe and hair. His name was Vincent Kennedy McMahon. Alongside his son Shane, and a few other large men, they were doing final touches and adjusting their earpieces before walking out to the platform. Vince, had inherited his father's business, the business of professional wrestling. The organization to some was simply a circus, but it was called The World Wrestling Federation.

Vince beckoned the other men to follow him. They were his people, the wrestlers, and they were also the stars of the show.  Vince nodded to one man in particular.

"You remember your lines right?" Vince tugged at his suit, while another wrestler, called HHH adjusted his knee brace. HHH stood by a tall dark haired woman, with a strong physique, known as Chyna. Vince turned around facing a near 7 foot giant in a robe. McMahon had shifted uncomfortably, wary of the wrestler he was talking to.

"Yes..." the large wrestler replied. He looked over to the small cluster of wrestlers by his side. "We've practiced this many times, I will not forget." The man, Undertaker, nodded to his legion, calling them "The Ministry". The ministry constituted of a rather large dark skinned man, he called Viscera, a duo who called themselves Farooq, and Bradshaw, the Acolytes, and a man who had similar features to himself, his watchdog, Mideon.

Vince nodded, then frowned looking over at the corner, a man in a ball cap and worn out jeans once again had his headphones on, busy listening to music.

"Austin! Take those things off, we're about to start!" The wrestler Vince referred to,  only acknowledged him by a short nod, then removed the headphones.

Undertaker let out a low grumble, he had wrestled here for years as well as most of the others around him. He had long forgotten about filling his purse to freedom, and only stayed around because there really wasn't anything else he could do better, short of wasting his time away in the slums.  When he was young it was Vince's father who had taken in the young man to earn his way out instead of being sold to any numbers of crooks, thieves, or sex houses he would have ended up. For that he was grateful, and stayed loyal to the McMahons since, as did most of the other wrestlers.

"Okay, lets bring the house down!" HHH erupted.  The other wrestlers nodded and walked out to the ring.

"Austin!" McMahon called out loudly, "I gaur-en-damn-tee you won't be wearing that belt after tonight!" He was rewarded by the crowds chanting "Asshole" loudly. "In fact, I'm so confident Austin, that you won't be wearing that belt..." Vince paused and glared at the crowd as they continued their chants, "that this match tonight will be a NO Disqualification Match!" The crowd cheered.

"Of course Austin," he continued, "you have no chance in Hell in winning. Which brings me, to the person you need to fight, what better than a person you have no chance in Hell of winning against than against a man who has come from Helllllll!"

The lights dimmed, and music began to play. The Undertaker's entrance music echoed through the crowds as they ad hushed the minute the light went down. Undertaker followed by his Ministry came out and the audience started to boo loudly. Undertaker hid a grim smile as he realized his mere presence still worked the crowd over. He walked up and climbed inside the ring. He shifted his hood, and grabbed the small microphone in his hands.

"Austin," his low voice rumbled through the crowd. "I made a mistake the last time I fought you. I believe it's time to bury that mistake, as I'll have you mind, body and soul." The crowd booed louder, much to his delight.
 

The booing was interrupted by the glass crashing, unmistakable sound of Stone Cold Steve Austin's entrance music. Numerous fans stood up in their seats and screamed for their favorite wrestler. Austin, walked up the ramp and paced around the platform like an irritated coyote.

"Undertaker, McMahon, you dumb SOBs!" The crowd cheered louder, "I accept your stupid little challenges, cuz what's in it for me you beady little eyed son of a bitch," he glared at McMahon as he returned the glare "I'm gonna come up beat up your dead man, kick his sorry little ass,  " he spat at the other man. "Austin 3:16 is gonna special deliver you a can of whup-ass after I finish off the bastard and come after you and that's the bottom line." The crowd echoed his next words: "Cuz Stone Cold Said So!"

Several shots rang out on the rooftop of an old office building. Visibly shaking, the man called Eugene was trying to shake the trackers which were tailing him. I shouldn't have stolen that purse from that guy, but how the fuck was I supposed to he was buddies with Corps.  Eugene had botched up the last drug deal and was now shot on cash. He knew his boss wouldn't want him to be empty handed and decided the best way to rectify the situation was to commit a heist. Unfortunately, he didn't know until know that the guy he had robbed was an Overseer of Trackers.

Trackers, were usually mutant or non human assassins and patrollers abound the streets.  Trackers were the bogeymen of the land, if you robbed, stole, or cheated, you hoped you would never come across one. A tracker always finds you and few have been known to escape once a tracker tags you.

"Shit.." Eugene muttered, and reloaded his weapon. He had it bad, didn't have one, but two trackers tailing his ass. He knew that he wasn't going to walk out of this alive, but he wanted to at least be known as the one who'd taken a tracker down. Hell, if I'm going to die, I'm gonna die famous.

"Psst!" Cross, whispered over to her partner Cat "He's only a level one threat, a jackrabbit, and I think I spotted him at Sector 2."

*Cross, we're supposed to send our thoughts, unless you want the whole world to hear us!*  Cat adjusted her outfit which consisted of, dark camouflage, armor over her chest, arms and legs.  She had sensed the man on the rooftop and knew that Cross was actually debating on who should take him out. If she did it Cross' way, he'd be dead, but her way, he may still end up living - which would mean a higher amount of credits. for both.

*Fine, fine....so I guess you're gonna take him out. I never have any of the fun.*  Cross adjusted her helmet which had wisps of her auburn hair escaping. *Just get it done then, I wanna get back and watch TV*

Cat grinned, and pulled out her favorite weapon, a katana. She crept alongside the wall, long pointed ears flicked briefly. She was honing in on his location. She heard his ragged breathing, and readied her katana. Overzealous with anticipation, her footing accidentally kicked loose a few rocks, which sent Eugene spinning around wildly to face her, firing rapidly.

Cat rolled over to avoid the spray, and cursed at herself for being so clumsy. She righted herself as she ducked back behind the wall. *He's getting away!* she picked herself up and pursued chase after the man.

Cross, frowned, if it was her way, the guy would already be dead. Her friend, as good as she was, sometimes was a bit too cocky. She began to follow Cat's pursuit.

Cat had an easy time leaping over the obstacles, Eugene was stumbling over on the rooftops. Eugene, grabbed the gun, and tried to fire once more and realized it was empty and he had dropped what rounds he had left, trying to dodge this damn tracker.

Cat leapt up and tackled Eugene, and both came down to a heavy grunt. Eugene swung his gun and whacked it upside Cat's head. Cat winced in pain but refused to let go. Eugene was finally able to pull away from her rather strong grasp, and again tried to swing the gun at her.

Cat was fed up and delivered a roundhouse kick to Eugene's midsection, before he could deliver the blow. Eugene gasped, trying to intake air. He doubled over clutching his stomach. and finally moaned. Cat reached over and grabbed him by the head, her katana lightly touching his throat.

"Your lucky," she glowered as she brought up the katana casing a small wound on his neck. Eugene started whimpering to her, pleading for his life. "I don't kill." Cat flatly told him, but the man was already off in his own little world. She won't kill me...but that doesn't mean I'll live longer when she takes me to them...

Cross came down, grinning her infectious grin. Her ice green eyes, glittered. "Well that's at least 250 credits for each of our purses." Cat returned the grin. "And look just in time for my favorite show!" Cross glanced at her watch.

Cat rolled her eyes, but ended up smiling anyway, as both trackers dragged their prize back to headquarters.
 
 
 
 

© 1999 Harumi Kijima