============
My Dark Life
============

"You don't know, you don't know
About my dark life."
- Elvis Costello (My Dark Life)






	He tipped in cigarettes.  The white cylinders dropping on the 
circular brown tray without a sound, not even light taps, as they 
rolled and finally stopped.  The waitress, a pretty little thing in a 
short skirt and halter top, smiled tightly and tried to look grateful 
as she put the drinks down in front of the two men and walked away, 
her hips swaying fiercely.

	"Nice ass, no personality," he observed as he watched her go.  
He turned and smiled at his companion, "Just the way I like 'em."

	Shane McMahon shrugged without really moving, touched his chin 
lightly with the rim of his glass, "You never stick around long enough 
to find out what they're like anyways, Hunter."

	"Can't argue with that."  Hunter narrowed his eyes and looked 
around the crowded bar, something that looked like grief seemed to 
touch him briefly before he let it go.  "Sean would of liked it here.  
Man, I don't believe that bullshit about him being the one to do hack 
up Micheals.  Not the kid."

	"I don't think so either," Shane said honestly, voice heavy 
and thick with cotton.  A distantly amused smile curled his lips, 
"Where do you think he is then?  It is kinda weird that he just took 
off like that, right then."

	"I don't know, man," Hunter frowned and then grimaced as he 
took a sip of his drink.  "You gave him a lift back to the hotel 
right?  Did he tell ya he was gonna take off?"

	Shane laughed, eyes bright in even the dimness of the 
darkened night club bar.  "Me?  Fuck, Hunter, why the hell would he 
tell me anything?"  A thoughtful look and Shane licked his lips 
before taking another sip of his drink, "He did seem pretty fucked up 
over Micheals though.  Shit, I guess we all are."

	A nod, a shrug, and Hunter looked down at the table, twisted 
his shot glass so that it left behind a wet, perfect ring.  The music 
was loud, and the smoke from about a hundred different cigarettes was 
starting to get a little bit stuffy.  Usually, Hunter liked the club 
scene, always a cute fan willing to fall on her back, but tonight he 
felt tired and, as much as he hated to admit it - old.  

	"I guess we are," he finally answered.  He looked up to meet 
the heir apparent's eyes, took in the stone faced man that sat across 
from him.  "Why'd you invite me out, Shane?  Last time I checked, we 
weren't exactly best buds."

	"It's a time to mourn, Hunter," Shane said, raising his glass 
in a toast, not seeming to care when the gesture wasn't returned.  
"One friend is dead, another has disappeared off the face of the 
planet - I thought it'd be nice to hang out and...comfort each other."  
He closed his eyes briefly, held his breath then let it out slow.  When 
he opened them again, Hunter saw something new in them, something he 
couldn't quite pin-point.

	Shane leaned in close so that he could whisper but still be 
heard over the loud music.  "Maybe go somewhere private where we can 
talk."

	"Talk?" Hunter questioned, gaze suspicious.

	Shane's smile was indulgent, "Okay, maybe more then talk."  On 
the table top, the younger man moved his hand so that the tips of his 
fingers brushed Hunter's briefly before he pulled back completely, 
lifted his glass and took a drink.

	The music thudded between them, and Hunter took a moment to 
finish his drink before answering.  "Sounds good, Shane-O.  Let's get 
outta here."




	They had barely made it to the door of Shane's hotel room 
when Hunter suddenly grabbed Shane from behind and spun him around.  
Hands reached underneath his leather jacket and groped, squeezed, and 
pinned him to the door; Shane started to struggle but stopped when he 
felt Hunter's lips press a kiss from his own.  A hard bite, delicious 
pain, and Shane kissed back as best he could, struggling to gain back 
some control.  A knee was pushed up against his groin; light, teasing 
pressure that made Shane grunt lightly as he pushed back against the 
other man.

	Liquor and cigarettes were tasted on tongues and lips, and 
Shane managed to pull back with only minimal protest from the other 
man as he panted for air.  "Nice," Shane murmured.  With a slight 
smirk he darted his head forward and licked up the side of the other 
man's neck, "I'll let you come in if you promise to be gone by morning."

	Hunter nodded, a little numbly, his eyes dull with arousal and 
alcohol.  When Shane turned to unlock the door, he couldn't help but 
squeeze and rub the jean clad ass in front of him, couldn't wait to 
bury himself in it, to fuck the other man senseless.  And he would, 
eventually.

	The key turned in the lock, and Shane arched his neck into 
Hunter's mouth, pushed back a little as he opened the door.

	Then stopped.

	Shane felt a fist of fear slam him hard in the gut, a feeling 
that had become a complete stranger to him for the past six years.  
Until now.  He slammed the door shut again, took in a quick breath to 
gather his wits before turning to face the other man.

	"What?  What the hell, Shane..." Hunter started, expression a 
little angry.  "Let's go in."

	"Can't," Shane said, setting his jaw.  "Look, I just remembered 
I have some business to take care of tonight, so this - this will have 
to wait."  When it looked like Hunter was going to argue, Shane grabbed 
the man by the hair and pulled him down roughly, caught his lips in a 
fierce kiss that he held until he felt Hunter begin to respond.  They 
ground their hips together and Shane let Hunter's hand wander down to 
cup his ass as they continued to ravage each other's mouths.  Shane was 
the first to break away.

	"Go," he said firmly.  "I promise I'll make it up to you 
tomorrow."

	His cock felt hard and throbbing underneath his pants, an almost 
unbearable ache that Hunter knew only Shane could fix, but he finally 
relented and loosened his grip on the younger man.

	Not now, he told himself.  He gazed at Shane's seemingly innocent 
face, the sweet dimples and soft lips.  Maybe never.  "Fine," he growled. 
"But if I don't see you tomorrow, I'll bend you over and do you in the 
middle of the ring."

	"Fair enough," Shane nodded, and couldn't help but feel a pang of 
loss as the other man released him completely and turned to head down the 
hall towards the elevators.  He didn't look back and for that Shane was 
grateful, even a little respectful.

	Turning slowly, Shane opened the door as little as possible 
before slipping into the room and staring at the *surprise* that had 
been laid out on the bed to wait for him.  Definitely a surprise.

	And all this time he thought that he'd seen the last of Sean 
Waltman.

	Closing the door behind him before approaching the bed slowly, 
Shane stared at the angry corpse that lay among the clean, white sheets.  
"You here to haunt me?" he asked it, almost smiling.  "You come back from 
the dead, Sean?  You don't look so good.  

	But you must of been in that incinerator for at least fifteen 
minutes.  I should know, I stood by it to watch you burn."

	The charred skeleton contrasted sharply against the bed of white.  
Whoever had placed it there, had arranged what they could find of the 
bones in roughly the right order they would of come in.  The skull was 
still intact, the arms and legs as well, just not attached to the rest 
of the body.  One foot in particular looked grisly, and Shane grimaced 
as he reached out to let his hand hover over it. 

	"Who left you for me?" Shane whispered, his eyes flicking up and 
around the body.

	A gaping skull with an equally gaping mouth let out a silent 
scream, and Shane shuddered, fell back onto the carpet with his legs 
sprawled out in front of him.  "Shit."




	
	"Well?"

	They had returned to the ocean and the beach.  Shane ached to 
swim naked in the sea water.

	"I found the body when I came back to my room last night. 
Someone must of pulled it from the incinerator after I left," Shane 
said, voice calm.  He turned to look at his father, "That means someone 
out there knows I'm a murderer."

	"I know what it means," Vince snapped, a deep scowl etching his 
features.  "What I want to know is what you plan on doing about it!"

	Shane didn't flinch, didn't blink, "I've done all I can.  I 
smashed the body up with a sledge and threw the ashes into the water - 
it's gone.  Not a thing I can do about the gift bearer until he shows up 
again though."  A casual shrug.

	"And he or she will, they'll probably want money.  If it was 
about justice, I'd be in chains right now.  Or maybe it's about 
revenge."

	A light breeze brushed by the two McMahons, and Shane was 
reminded abruptly of how fast the warm weather was ending - it'd be fall 
soon, then winter.  He idly pushed his hands deeper into his pockets and 
made tight fists, telling himself he was only doing it to keep warm.

	The anger and tension emanating from Vince was like a physical 
thing between them, and Shane felt it pushing him further and further 
away.  "If they know you're involved, they might know I'm involved," 
Vince hissed.  "You've screwed up *everything*."

	"You've covered your tracks great, dad," Shane said, his eyes 
going to the white foam waves of the ocean, "No one can trace it back 
to you."  He looked back at Vince, "Unless I tell them."

	Hands grabbed him by the collar, pushed him back hard and fast 
until he was lying back over the hood of the car with Vince McMahon 
towering over him.  Words were spit like nails from his mouth as he 
spoke, each one driving sharp and furious into Shane's face.  "You're 
not going to say a *damn* thing, boy, you hear me?!  I should kill you 
for even thinking such a thing."

	Spiteful laughter and Shane didn't even attempt to struggle, 
"You think you can scare me?  Fuck you, Vince, I'm beyond fear.  It's 
nothing more then a memory to me."

	"You're pretty damn confident for someone who has his head in a 
noose," Vince snarled, his grip loosening just slightly.  He shook his 
son, fought the urge to slap his child's face with the back of his hand, 
"You think you can get through this without me?"

	"I'm your fucking *tool* Vince, you need me a helluva lot more 
then I need you."

	Vince let go, took a step back from his son.  Then another.  
His voice was low, no less threatening but oddly resigned, "What do you 
want?"

	Shane smiled and stood.  Straightened his clothes.  "Nothing you 
can give me, Vince.  I'll take care of this problem, one way or another - 
and you'll stay clean through it all.  In fact, I'll even throw in a 
little something extra."  Closing the gap between them, Shane stood 
nearly nose to nose with his father, his smile never wavered.  "I'll give 
you a little taste of death."

	A small, wet kiss on his forehead, like the kind he use to give 
when he was a small child, and Shane was gone.




	Another gift was waiting for him when he returned to his hotel 
that night.  A newspaper clipping of Shawn's death, taped neatly to his 
pillow.  Shane stared at it blankly for a moment, studying the black and 
white newsprint and re-reading lines he had a week ago.  The article 
stated that an "investigation was pending" and that the police had 
"several leads to follow".

	Shane snickered, let the article fall from loose fingers and 
float like a one winged butterfly to the floor.

	"You think that's funny?"

	The voice didn't make him jump, but his heart did a tiny leap 
that he found almost pleasant.  He looked half over his shoulder, just 
enough to see a touch of flowing blonde hair and a leather clad shoulder.

	He let out a soft sigh, touched his stomach and let his hand 
slide down to wear the knife rested in his belt, underneath his shirt 
and hovering over his crotch, but made no move to unsheathe it.  
"Nothing's funny," he said, voice low and husky.  "Pain?"

	Felt a nod, and then an arm go around his neck.  "Pain," the 
voice confirmed.

	The darkness that came was accepted with welcome arms.




	"He's....

	"...yeah."

	"Wakey, wakey, Shane-er-ooney."
	
	Blink and you'll miss it.  Shane opened his eyes, closed them 
again abruptly at the painful light that flashed in front of them.  He 
tasted blood in his mouth, blood on his neck, and blood on his chest.  
Guess they couldn't wait for him to be conscious to start.  He had to 
admire that in tormentors.

	The first thing he noticed, really noticed, was that the knife 
in the waist of his pants was gone.  It had been there for so long, he 
felt naked without it, incomplete.  He longed for the steel switchblade 
to be felt on his skin again, if only to take away the flushness of his 
suddenly heated skin.

	A hand on his jaw brought him back to the world of the living 
fully, and Shane opened his eyes and kept them open even though it felt 
as if someone had tied weights to his eyelids.  A fuzzy face floated in 
front of him, and as his eyes slowly focused he saw who he knew he would.

	"Hunter..."

	The smile was cruel, the hand painful, and Hunter didn't let go.  
"Shane.  Shane, my boy, you're in a spot of trouble."

	Shane blinked slowly, looked over Hunter's shoulder without 
turning his head and saw Billy Gunn and Jesse James standing close by, 
twin angry looks on their faces.  He looked back at Hunter, smiled with 
blood.  "I know."

	"Why'd you do it?"  Jesse.

	"'Cause I could."

	A boot caught him in the gut and Shane doubled over, realized for 
the first time that his hands were tired behind his back, that he was on 
the floor with his back to the wall.  He tested his bonds, found that he 
would not be breaking out of them anytime soon.

	"Wrong answer, bitch," Jesse sneered, and now his face was where 
Hunter's had been.  Only instead of cruel glee, Shane saw tears of pain 
and fury.  It almost made him feel bad.

	"What answer do you want me to give?"  The next hit made him spit 
up blood, made him moan despite himself and Shane shuddered inwardly.  "I 
can't be sorry," he said, his voice dead.  "I can't."

	Hunter shook his head, exchanged looks with the others before 
staring back down at Shane.  "We're not looking for any sort of apology 
Shane.  You killed two people, sorry just ain't gonna cut it."

	"Three."

	"What?"

	"I killed three people," Shane had to wheeze out the words, he 
could already feel that he had a few broken bones.  It hurt, it hurt a 
lot.  But he wanted to talk, wanted to speak.  Breathing in more fire, 
more hurt, Shane managed to gasp out a sentence before breaking into 
more sharp hisses of pain.  "Shawn Micheals, X-Pac and Kevin Nash."

	Stunned silence filled the room and Shane took a moment to 
overcome the dizziness before talking again.  "And I buried Steve Austin 
in Arizona.  Some mole in the New Media department is there too.  I took 
some jackass I didn't even know and threw him over a cliff.  All dead, 
all me."  He blinked, slow and painfully.  "Or maybe I'm lying - maybe 
there's more."

	Billy put a hand over his mouth and looked away in disgust, Jesse 
just stared in shock and betrayal.  Hunter seemed to be at odds on what 
to think.  "Who would of thought you had it in you?" he murmured.  "Fuck - 
how could no one notice all this before?"

	Shane shook his head, "Hindsight's 20/20.  This all happened over 
six fucking *years*.  And - and most of those weren't even considered 
deaths.  Just legitimate disappearances."

	"What about Shawn Micheals?" Jesse demanded.  "You - you hacked 
him up."

	"Not my idea," Shane said simply.  Blood leaked down the corner 
of his mouth and down his chin, and Shane coughed roughly.  "Never my 
idea..."

	"Who's then?" Hunter said.

	"Guess."

	Billy cursed under his breath and sat down heavily on the edge 
of the bed.  "Vince.  Fuck, FUCK."

	A cut he hadn't noticed before began to bleed on his forehead, 
and the blood dripped down to make his eye lashes thick and red.  Shane 
felt himself loosing consciousness again, fast.  "I - "

	"Don't talk!" Hunter snapped.  "Just don't say anything."

	Shane ignored him, "I didn't want to kill Sean.  He was in the 
wrong place at the wrong time."

	"Well, gee - that just fucking makes it okay then!" Jesse 
screamed.  He stormed over and picked Shane up by the neck, causing him 
to choke momentarily.  The new few moments were a blur of fists and boots, 
Shane felt himself struggle out of reflex but then made himself stop.  
Finally, Jesse let go and Shane dropped bonelessly to the ground.  "Why?" 
Jesse pleaded, tears streaming down his face.  He shook Shane roughly, 
shook and shook and shook.  Shane's head rolled limply but Jesse continued 
to shake him.  "*Why*?"

	Hunter and Billy both grabbed an arm, pulled their friend back and 
all three watched as Shane's lips moved to form words.  "The Nowhere," he 
whispered.  "The Nowhere made me do it."

	No one pretended to understand, or tried.  Hunter moved again 
instead, moved until he was straddling Shane's lap, pulled the sliding heir 
apparent up straight.

	"You want to know how we knew, Shane?  You want us to tell you?"

	Shane nodded without bones.  His head felt like a heavy, broken 
thing.

	"Billy and Jesse were lighting up in the hotel across the street, 
out on the fire escape and saw you dragging Sean's body down the steps.  At 
first, it was so dark, they weren't sure *what* they were seeing, but then 
you stepped into the light and there it was."

	"Stepped into the light..."

	"They followed you down, waited 'till you left, then pulled as much 
as they could of Sean's body out of the furnace," Hunter stroked Shane's 
matted and bloodied hair.  DX turned away.  "We figured out that it was you 
that did Shawn because it was an attempt to hack through DX.  Who could of 
known it was just because you were some sort of killer on call for your 
ol'man?"

	The world had a tilty, gray affect to it, and Shane's eyelids grew 
heavier and heavier as he tried to stay awake to hear the voices that were 
talking to him.  Hunter's breath was like ice on his hot skin.  He spoke in 
a voice for his ears only as he leaned in very, very close.  There was 
death and threat and sex in his voice.  "You're a bastard Shane, but I 
still want to do ya."

	Jesse and Billy had apparently gotten tired of the show.  "Come on, 
man," Jesse said, his voice weary.  "Let's just turn him into the cops and 
get it over with.  I need a drink.  I need a hit."

	A nod of agreement from Billy and the two degenerates stood and 
walked over to Hunter to stand on either side of the crouching man like 
bookends.  Shane suppressed a smile at the idea, but it was hard.  
Everything suddenly seemed strangely amusing.

	"I'll take care of it," Hunter said casually, not breaking Shane's 
gaze as he spoke.  "You two go ahead, you look beat."

	Hesitant looks that only Shane saw.

	"You sure, man?"

	"Yeah, Hunter, we can help...we want to help when the rich little 
pretty boy gets hauled away in cuffs."

	"Go," Hunter said, and now he did look.  Favored them both with a 
solid stare.  "Really, guys, let me do this."

	Final, reluctant nods, and the two men headed for the door, but not 
before Billy spat on Shane's shirt, and Jesse got in one last kick.  The 
door shut behind him and Hunter turned back to his captive.

	"At last we have some 'alone' time," Hunter said with a smile.  He 
ground his hips downwards, and Shane groaned at the pain the simple 
movement caused.

	"Don't..."

	A delighted laugh.  "Shane, you asking me for something?"

	"Don't...hold your breath."  Shane shot his head forward abruptly 
and it connected solidly, causing Hunter to curse and fall back.  Shane did 
not try to move again, he had nothing left.  His bones felt weak and watery, 
his blood was thick and hot as it ran out of his body.  Shane felt death 
tickling his feet and he wanted it to come and take him away from this Hell 
that he had fallen backwards into.

	Hunter growled low in his throat and crawled over to where Shane 
slumped, grabbed the younger man's legs and pulled roughly so that he lay 
sprawled on his back with his arms pinned uncomfortably behind him.  The 
wrestler straddled him once again, brought his hands up to encircle Shane's 
throat in a loose, but firm grip.  "Confession time, Shane."

	"I already made my confessions."

	"I meant for me," Hunter leaned down and touched bloodied lips for 
a kiss, sucked and licked and swallowed.  "If you hadn't invited me out that 
night, I would of asked you - that was the original plan.  Get me to get you 
drunk, then bring you back to the hotel where Sean's body was all laid out 
and give you a good scare."  A finger trailed down Shane's cheek, dug and 
scratched.  Shane flinched despite himself and felt his legs move just the 
tinniest bit in protest.  "But things don't always go according to plan, do 
they?"

	Shane thought of Billy and Jesse sitting on the fire escape, getting 
high and suddenly seeing him dragging their friend's body down the side of a 
building.  No, he supposed.  Things *don't* always go according to plan.

	A hand groped him unceremoniously and Shane closed his eyes, opened 
them again when a hard slap to his face stung and burned him.  "Uh uh, Shane.  
I want those pretty brown eyes of yours looking at me when I talk to you."

	His lips felt numb, "You're not suppose to look your confessor in the 
eye," he breathed.  "We need a wall."

	A hand snaked under his shirt, caressed his chest and prodded at 
painful wounds.  "Shane, we got something much better then a wall between 
us.  Now listen.

	"I never would of thought you'd be interested in getting fucked, or 
else I might of taken you up on it a long time ago.  But when you did make a 
move that night...let's just say the plan changed."  Hunter swooped down 
again, and sucked at Shane's neck, kissed and bit and drew more blood.  When 
he sat back, his lips were bloody.  "We're gonna play before you die."

	"Games are fun."

	"Not my games."  Hunter's smile was so smug, that Shane couldn't 
help but feel the need to take it down a few notches.

	"Shawn Micheals screamed when I stabbed him, baby," he whispered, 
putting forward his most charming voice.  "When my knife dug into him...he 
begged me to stop."

	Hunter's eyes flickered just slightly, but then went back to smug 
when he reached behind himself and into his back pocket to come back with 
Shane's knife.  "You mean this knife, Shane?"  The knife popped up and Hunter 
studded the clean and gleaming blade closely before lowering it to Shane's 
chest and trailing it slowly down his skin.  "Where did you stab him first?"

	Shane licked his lips, let his eyes dart down to where the knife was 
being held poised over his chest.  Fear whispered its presence in the back of 
his mind but he shut it out.  "Where do you think?"

	Riiiiip.  The shirt was in shreds in seconds and then disregarded.  
Hunter leaned back briefly to remove his own jacket and shirt, soon both men 
were bare chested.  "I think you liked killing him.  I think I might like 
killing you just as much."
 
	"Only one way to find out," Shane said.

	A slightly raised eyebrow and Hunter nodded, "Indeed.  But, a little 
bit of warning Shane-O.  I plan on making your death slow, and painful, and 
just as bad as you made it for Shawn."  Hunter ground his hips down again, 
and kept doing it until Shane got hard despite himself.  "But not before I 
have some fun with you."

	Bile and blood warred in Shane's throat and he coughed again, moaned 
at the pain it caused his ribs.  "That's the difference between you and me, 
Hunter.  I never *enjoyed* killing."

	"But you did it anyway.  For what?  Why, Shane?"  It was a real 
question, Hunter's eyes were, for a moment, just as pleading as Jesse's 
had been.  

	Shane swallowed, felt his head pound and spin.  "Because...I - I 
don't know.  I had to."

	"You *had* to?"

	He nodded, felt the ache, and the pain, and the guilt, and the 
Nowhere.  "I can't explain it because I don't fully understand it myself. 
But Vince told me to get rid of a body, and I did it.  It was already dead, 
why should I let him get in trouble for it if I could so easily prevent it?  
Then so I hid another, and then...I guess it was just a short step away 
from actually killing."  Shane closed his eyes.  "Confessing.  I don't like 
this game."

	The knife dug in a little deeper, drew a thin pin-point of blood.  
"You're not suppose to."

	Breathed in deep and Shane felt fire in his lungs.  His eyes were 
closed, holding back tears that came with sudden, unexpected urgency.  He 
was so tired, and everything hurt so bad.  "Kill me.  God, Hunter...I - I 
don't want to hurt anymore."

	"Open your eyes when you talk to me."

	Shane opened his eyes.  Saw hate, and felt his body tremble.  
"Hunter...I...the Nowhere has me.  It's finally caught me."

	Hunter nodded, leaned in and kissed his lips gently, "I know.  It 
has me too."

	"I'm hurt enough.  Make it stop."

	The knife didn't let up.  Instead, it *traveled*.  Leaving a red 
line in its wake.  "Never enough," Hunter said distantly.  He bent low 
again, rubbed the wounded chest some more and moved in between them to rub 
Shane's cock through his blood wet jeans.  "Shane, we've only started."

	The Nowhere whispered the *why* in Shane's ear.  Blood and sins, 
death and redemption.  Mercy, not even good guys got mercy.

	"H-Hunter?" Shane managed, even as Hunter ripped the pants from 
his legs and turned him onto his stomach.

	"Yes?"  A voice just as dead as his had once been.  The Nowhere 
really *had* gotten Hunter.

	"Hear out the last request of a dying man?  You might even like 
it."  Shane suppressed a scream of pain when the knife dug into his thigh.  
When it *twisted*.

	A wet tongue licked the small of his back, then drifted up to lick 
down his throat.  A borrowed move.  Hunter's jean clad leg rubbed the wound 
heavily, causing sparks of pain to flare and bite.  "I'm listening."

	And he did.  Then he laughed.  "Tell you what, Shane.  I'll do that 
for you."

	"Promise?"

	Touch of blade and another cut and Shane cried out despite himself.  
This would go on forever he knew.  He felt Hunter's erection against him and 
shuddered, maybe even longer.

	The deep throated chuckle made him close his eyes, "Promise."

	And the knife descended again.





    Vince McMahon walked into the darkened hotel room with heavy steps and 
the weight of the world on his shoulders.  He had not heard from Shane since 
he had walked off with that cryptic remark, and the press was starting in on 
him on the disappearence of Sean Waltman and his possible connection to the 
murder of Shawn Micheals.  An investigation would be launched at Titan.  
Questions were being asked, uncomfortable questions, and still - no Shane.

    The briefcase was dropped onto the coffee table, and Vince let his jacket 
hang over a chair.  He just wanted to sleep and wake up in a world without 
these problems.  If only things were that easy.

    He walked into the bedroom, turned on the light.

    Froze.

    Held his breath.

    "Shane?"

    His son was laid out on the bed, on his stomach, fully clothed  in a 
smartly pressed suit and tie.  He looked good, clean and neat.  The perfect 
businessman.  It was almost as if he had fallen asleep without changing from 
a long day at the office.  But his body was still and lifeless, Vince could 
see the scars and the bruises.  The places where the blood had dried.

    There was a knife sticking out of his back, but no blood flowed from the
wound.

    Unseeing eyes seemed to stare out at Vince accusingly, and the older man
fell to his knees.  Screams choked in his throat.

    Vince McMahon had finally received his taste of death.












***End