More! This thing is gonna be hella long. I hope you stick around for 
the long haul!





Title: Deconstructing Da Tarah
Author: Brooke
Email: evylbytch@hotmail.com
Rating: Hmmmm...I'll say R just to be safe.
Disclaimers: This piece of fiction is the property of Flame. I mean 
her absolutely no disrespect, and she knows it. She's the one who 
said I could do this to her wonderful piece of work! All in fun-like 
I'd really let my muses rip into my bestest friend! Muses are mine, 
people they are based on aren't...alas...
Distribution: Flame automatically. Anyone else, ask.
Summary: The muses go after Tarah

** denotes muse actions

< > denotes actual story text






**Shane whines and crosses his arms over his chest** I don't wanna do 
this anymore! Hunter, make it stop!

**Hunter blinks at him** What makes you think I have any say in this?
Shane: You **are** Brookie's favorite.

**Hunter snorts** EXCUSE ME!?! I highly doubt that.

**Vince smiles knowingly** A close second at best.

**Hunter, Shane, and Mark all eye him**

**Vince sips his scotch and hums "Everybody Wants Me"**

**Mark rolls his eyes** Let's just get on with this, hmmm? We have a 
long ass way to go.

**Hunter nods** Read on, Darkside soldier.

**Mark turns back to the computer, grumbling** I'm the general, 
dammit.


<Chyna came in and whispered something in Shane's ear. He nodded and 
then waved her away.> 

**Hunter nods** That's right. Wave her away. No one likes her anyway.
Shane: I sorta liked her.

**Hunter snorts** No one who matters likes her, then.

Shane: HEY!



<"Tarah, I'm going to ask you some questions. Just bear with me and 
answer them as best you can," he said.>

Shane: It sounds like he's interviewing her for the Miss America 
pageant.

**Hunter sighs wistfully** I wish there was a Mr. America pageant. 
I'd win it, no question.

**Mark doesn't turn around but shakes his head** You'd get crucified 
in the evening gown competition. You don't have the hips for formal 
wear.

**Hunter blinkblinks**



<"OK," I said. I wasn't real sure what was going on but for the time 
being, I was going to play along. 

"Do you have any ties to professional wrestling?" he asked.>

Vince: Yeah, my father's brother's next door neighbor's cable guy was 
a booker once.

Shane: Don't say booker!

**Hunter snickers** What's the matter, Shane? Having flashbacks of 
real you and the stint with the 5-count `em-5 time WCW Champion?

Shane: HUNTER, I'M WARNING YOU! SHUT UP!



<"No." I answered.

"Have you ever worked in a funeral home?"

"No," I said louder. This was getting weirder by the second.

"Are you in any way involved in satanic or evil religious practices?">

**Hunter, Shane, and Mark all turn to look at Vince**

**Vince whistles innocently*



<"Hell no," I yelled. I was starting to believe this was a put up 
job. "Did Carol put you up to this? Is this some kind of joke?"

"My family has been threatened and I am doing everything I can to see 
them remain safe. If that includes asking you crazy questions, so be 
it," Shane said.>

**Hunter grins** Awwwwww, Shaners...how sweet. Such care for your 
family!

Shane: That PROVES this is just fiction.

Vince: I'll say.



<I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "All right," I said. "I 
just don't see where this could possibly go that I could give you any 
answers.">

Hunter: Neither do I. Okay, end of story!

**Mark snorts** Not by a long shot, Hunt.



<"Bear with me. Taker found something about you interesting enough to 
risk kidnapping you in broad daylight.">

Vince: It was the Mr. Socko of Da Carol's.

Shane: Don't call her Da Carol. And why would Taker care about a Mr. 
Socko anyway?

Hunter: He has Socko envy. Everybody did. Socko got bigger pops than 
half the roster.

Shane: Oh yeah, that's it. Taker tried to kidnap her just to get her 
friend's Mr. Socko. Nice deduction there, Sherlock.

**Hunter looks thoughtful** You know, I always thought Sherlock and 
Watson had...you know...a thing going on.

**Shane stares at him in disbelief**

Mark: You're sick, Hunt. Truly sick.



<I still wasn't sure I even believed that. Things like that just 
don't happen. Wrestlers don't just try to abduct fans. It might be a 
sort of stalking thing the other way around, but I still wasn't sure.>

**Shane eyes Hunter** Hmmmm...does that sound familiar?

**Hunter blinks innocently** I have no idea what you're talking about.

Shane: Uh huh. So, it wasn't you who followed a certain 7-foot tall, 
500 pound giant around the mall while he was in OVW?

**Vince makes a disgusted face** Hunter, please tell me you didn't!

**Hunter huffs** I just wanted to see if he'd turn around if I 
yelled "It's the Big Chode!"

Shane: Yeeeeeeah, Hunt. Suuuuure.



<Shane went on with the questions. "Do you have any belief in the 
higher powers of the mind?"

"Like what?" I asked.

"ESP, telekinesis, reincarnation, affinity with the dead..." he 
ticked off on his fingers.>

**Hunter's brow goes up**

**Mark groans** Not that kind of affinity, Hunter.



<"That's far enough," I said. "I believe. As far as that goes, I 
guess you could call what I have affinity with the dead.">

**Hunter nods his head slowly** See...she's a freak...likes to do the 
dead man horizontal shuffle.

**Shane groans and puts his head in his hands**



<Shane jumped to his feet and slapped the table. "I knew it," he 
said. "It might as well been written on her forehead." He turned to 
Kane. "You can sense it can't you, just like your brother could?">

Vince: Shane sure seems to know a lot about mystical dark side stuff.

**Hunter grins** I bet Taker has been giving him private lessons in 
all the dark arts.

Mark: This isn't slash, Hunt. I highly doubt that will be happening.



<I stood up before Kane had a chance to answer. "Look this has been 
interesting, but I'm not sure what any of this really has to do with 
me being here," I said edging to the door.

"That big dead bastard tried to kidnap you. We at Titan Sports owe 
you something for that if nothing else," Shane said as he gestured 
everyone out of the room. "I'm sure my father would like to speak 
with you.">

Mark: If Titan Sports owed me something, I'd demand ringside seats at 
Wrestlemania, not a damn heart to heart with Vince.

Vince: My heart to hearts are usually very entertaining.

Mark: That's one way to put it.



<Kane didn't leave with everyone else. I crossed my arms and stared 
at him. He stared back. "What is going on?" I asked at last.

"My brother, the Undertaker, is building his Ministry of Darkness," 
he replied.

"He's really your brother?" I asked. I was sure I had read somewhere 
on the internet that they weren't related.

Kane nodded. 

"What has that got to do with me?" I asked him.

"Your potential powers are staggering. Someday soon, you will be 
extremely powerful. You would make an irresistible addition to his 
minions," he answered in a matter of fact tone. >

Hunter: Okay, when did Kane get so goddamn chatty?

Shane: That's just the author's way of letting us know that the 
silent stoic thing is just part of the act.

**Hunter snorts** Whatever. I liked him better when he didn't say 
anything. It's not like he has anything particularly interesting to 
say.

Mark: Neither do you, Hunter, but that doesn't keep you from talking 
all the damn time, now does it?



<"Are you trying to tell me that this crap is all for real?" I 
asked. "That I'm important because I get goose bumps in graveyards?">

Hunter: Come on! You can't tell me that her "affinity with the dead" 
isn't what it sounds like. She gets goose bumps just thinking about 
it!

**Shane looks at Vince** Think anyone would notice if we just killed 
him and got rid of the body.

Vince: I won't tell if you won't.



<"You know that you have more talent than that," he said.

I thought about it for a second or two. Until recently, I might have 
been able to truthfully get away with that, but lately, things had 
just gotten worse. Now I could tell you things about dead people I 
had never known, things like eye color or the name of their horse. If 
that wasn't bad enough, there were these particularly pesky spirits 
that wanted to be my friends. I called them the rowdy Civil War boys.>

Mark: Don't even say it, Hunter. We can all hear what you're 
thinking. You were going to say, "Not only is she a necrophiliac, 
she's a whore too!

**Hunter blinks** Actually, I was going to comment on how cool it 
would be to know a group of rowdy Civil War boys.

**Mark blinks and clears his throat** Oh.

Hunter: But we can se where your mind is, mister! In the gutter!



<"So you mean to tell me that your brother, the Undertaker, is in 
fact, of the undead?" I asked. "And how about you? Shane seemed to 
consider you the same as him."

Before I got my answer, the door opened yet again and Kane stopped 
talking. Vince came in and I knew that I wouldn't get any more 
straight answers, if I had gotten any this far.>

Hunter: Duh duh duh...watch out, Tarah! It's the fun police!



<"Good afternoon, Tarah," he said extending his hand.

It wasn't good anymore, but I took his hand and shook it. My awed fan 
routine had worn thin. I just wanted out of there. "Look, I won't sue 
anybody for passing out. I just want to go home. All the rest of this 
stuff is a whole lot weirder than it is on TV. Can I go or what?"

"I was hoping for a different solution to this meeting," Vince 
said. "It has come to my attention that you have certain skills that 
the corporation has need of.">

Shane: Oh, there he is. The eternal businessman. While Shane is 
concerned with keeping his family safe, Big Daddy Vince is thinking 
about how to make the Corporation stronger.

**Vince groans** Don't use that nickname. It's vulgar.



<I listened carefully. If I was right, there had been a job offer in 
there, in Vince-speak. "Are you offering me a job?" I asked.

"You want one?" He asked with a smile.

"Doing what?" I asked right back.>

Hunter: Being the company whore!

Shane: That's your job.



<"We could call it executive personal assistant. You'll travel with 
me and take care of paperwork and do some phone calls for me. Later 
we can find your niche," He said.>

Shane: Executive personal assistant means `my personal slut' in 
Vince-speak, Tarah. Run.



<I sat back down. The offer needed some thought. I had just been 
offered my dream job, but something about it set off warning bells in 
my head. "What about the Undertaker?" I asked.

"We could get Test and Bossman to act as security for now," he 
answered. Vince glanced at the men in question.

They both nodded.>

**Shane nods** That's right. Get Bossman away from Shane. Everyone 
will be happier that way.



<I bit my lip. It was tempting. "I guess I could look over the 
contract," I said.

Vince grinned. "You see boys, I knew she'd see it our way."

In a few moments, Shane brought in the contract. They must have been 
typing it while I'd been getting the run around. Shane tried to be 
friendly and hang around, until I just waited him out. I didn't want 
to be rushed through the reading. He left the contract and a pen on 
the table and left.>

**Hunter grins** Hmmmm....**cough**A.D.D.**cough**

**Shane blinks** NOT FUNNY!



<I leafed through the pages and looked them over. They looked solid 
enough. I could even option out of the whole thing in six months if I 
wasn't happy. I had been sure that there would be a lot of loop holes 
and legalese, but that wasn't the case. I was about to sign it, when 
I suddenly shivered. I wasn't cold.>

Mark: Uh oh...the odd spirits are making their presence known.

**Hunter opens his mouth**

**Shane silences him with a look**

**Hunter grumbles** 



<I went to the door and looked out to check on my corporate 
protection. Both Test and Bossman were casually leaning on the wall 
talking. "Was there something you wanted?" Bossman asked, his Georgia 
accent thick enough to walk on.

"Uh, no," I answered as I closed the door. I rubbed the back of my 
neck and sat back down. It was a mild reaction compared to some I've 
had, but after the afternoon I'd had, I was jittery. I looked around 
the room. I couldn't see the difference, but I could tell something 
had happened.>

Hunter: Get some Benadryl. It will take care of that mild reaction.

Shane: Maybe it was something she ate.

Mark: It's the odd spirits. They don't agree with her delicate 
biological make-up.



<I heard a rustling noise in the ceiling. I looked at the acoustic 
tiles above me. Rats? Surely not.>

Hunter: You never know. You should see some of the shit holes the WWF 
visits. Rats might actually be a step up from what you can find.


<Then, one of the tiles moved and Edge's head took its place. He was 
smiling down at me. Christian's joined it. They were both members of 
the Ministry. Taker had sent more of his minions after me. It hadn't 
taken him long at all to call in the second attack. I knew I had 
trouble. "Oh, hell," I whispered.

"You got that right sister," Edge said as he quietly dropped down to 
the table.>

**Hunter shivers** Edge always sorta freaked me out. Something about 
him is just...weird.

Vince: Could it be the pointy teeth and hair that is much too blonde 
to be real?

Hunter: Maybe.

**Shane yawns and stretches** Can we take a break? My ass is falling 
asleep.

Hunter: Not to mention it's a lot more bony that it looks and you're 
killing my leg.

**Vince nods** Ten minute break then back to the grind.

**Hunter, Shane, and Mark each twirl a finger**


TBC