Slowly..very slowly..she opened her eyes. Steam? She was in a bathroom alright, but it felt..different. It didn't have the same "feel" that Bearer's creepy house had. This one was dark, too, but with a difference she couldn't quite pinpoint. The door behind her opened and she whirled around, regretting the swift action immediately as another bolt of pain shot through her head. She clutched the side of her head in agony, and pulled her knees up to her chest as she craned her neck up and up, her eyes coming to rest on the man who had "saved" her. Or had he? Fushia was more than a little confused about this man and what his motives may be. She had never laid eyes upon him in her life.

"Well, I'm glad to see you are awake." He said quietly as he crossed the room and bent over to turn the faucet off. He turned to face her, crossing his arms across his chest and peering down at her with those eyes. Eyes that seemed un-natural. "How is your head?"
She stared at him. Unsure what to say or if she should say anything at all. For all she knew he could be a mass murderer or the leader of some weird cult. Then again, look at the situation he took her from. Fushia supposed in this situation, there were not going to be any easy answers.

"It hurts." She mumbled flatly. The stranger's eyes seemed to twinkle at her, and she could have sworn she saw the ghost of a smile on his full lips. "Well, I'm not surprised. You took a pretty mean spill." Fushia stared at him as if he'd just grown an extra head. "What do you mean?"
"When we...crossed over...you screamed and started to struggle. I put you down and tried to hold you, but you bolted loose and fell down the steps leading to my basement." Fushia stared at him once again in amazement. Crossed over? What was he talking about? As hard as she tried she could not seem to remember anything after Bearer yelling at the man through the door of the bedroom where she'd been kept.

"In any case.." the man continued. "I think we'd better get you cleaned up and into bed. You need to rest, just in case.." For the first time, Fushia looked down at the rest of her body. She was covered in blood, cuts and scrapes, and the way her head was hurting, she probably had a concussion. She sighed, nodding mutely as he crossed the room again. "I will be back with a robe for you and will leave it just outside the door. I'll be downstairs in the study when you're done. It's just to the right at the bottom of the steps, ok?" Fushia nodded again, slowly getting to her feet as he backed out of the room and shut the door quietly behind him.

Chapter Nine: The Master

"I told you, the Undertaker took her! He got away before Kane could break the door down. I did everything I could!" Paul cringed as the voice on the other end told him, and told him loudly, that it wasn't good enough...unacceptable. The coldness of the Master's voice chilled him through to his brittle bones. "Get her back..NOW! You have 24 hours. If she's not tied up and in that bedroom by then, you...my friend..." he said these last two words very carefully, "Will die." The line went dead, and Paul felt the anger beginning deep within the pit of his black heart. Kane.. it was always Kane that messed things up for him. His eyes narrowed, his nostrils flared, and he turned to face his "son" very slowly. Kane stared at him, head tilted slightly to the left. Something told him that he was in trouble, big trouble. He'd seen that look in his father's eyes before, and it usually meant a few days locked in the basement with nothing but bread and water and a small, barred window to get him through. Paul said nothing, only pointed toward the hallway. Kane lowered his head. It was just as he figured, he was being sent to that dark, damp place again. His hair fell into his face and he tugged on his glove, turned and walked down the hallway, his cheeks burning hot under the leather mask.

Paul didn't need Kane's help for this mission. He knew he'd only screw things up again. When he heard the basement door close, he smiled smugly and picked up the phone, dialing the number of the one person he knew he could depend on. Mankind was a little messed up in the head, but he could always be counted on to do his bidding without question. "Hello?" the voice on the other end said, a little insecurely. "Micky," Paul's voice was full of false sincerity. "It's Uncle Paul. I need a favor.." Mick hesitated on the other end. "What kind of favor, Uncle Paul? Oh! Can I bring Socko?" Paul rolled his eyes. That stupid sock. Mick never went anywhere without it, anymore. Paul gritted his teeth and replied, "Sure, son. Now listen very carefully..."

The Undertaker sat in his study, intently focused on the task before him. The big black book which sat open on the desk told him everything he needed to know. When the time was right, he'd let Fushia know exactly why he'd "rescued" her. An evil smile played at the corners of his lips as he anticipated what lie ahead. In the meantime, there was nothing wrong with a little "playtime", was there? It wouldn't be long before the fat man and his stooge showed up, this much he was sure of, but he intended to get into Fushia's mind as deeply as possible before then, and if anyone was a master of mind games, it was definitely him.

Fushia eased herself into the steaming hot water of the bathtub, still looking around uneasily. She knew she'd be a fool to let her guard down; look at what happened when she trusted Bearer even a tiny bit. She took in every detail of the bathroom carefully before she picked up the cloth the man had left for her and slowly began to cleanse her cuts and scrapes. Something nagged at her mind. She knew somehow that her "savior" wouldn't just let her walk out of the house, just like that. Why would he rescue her? How did he rescue her from a second-story bedroom, anyway? Especially one that had a barred, locked window. Her mind began forming a plan to get her out of this place as soon as possible. The man, strange as he seemed, had to sleep sometime, didn't he? As far as she knew, he was the only occupant of the house, so if she played her cards right, she could be out of the house and on the way to safety in a matter of hours.

Kane sat on the hard, wooden bench of the basement, his mind going over all the details of the past 24 hours. As hard as he tried, he just couldn't understand what he had done wrong, what he'd done to upset his father. He thought he'd done everything that was expected of him. The more he thought about it, the more upset he became. He'd heard his father leave the house about an hour before, tires squealing out of the driveway. He wondered where he'd gone. Kane sighed heavily, the loneliness beginning to weigh on him already, though he guessed he hadn't actually been down there all that long. Then again, time was a distorted concept to him, so he didn't actually know. All he knew, all he would ever know, was what his father taught him. What his father told him was the way things were in the "real world". Something he'd never had much experience with.

To Be Continued...

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