No, I'm not giving up on The Man In Me. :P This is just a little something I've been working on. And while I'm working my way through the next part of TMIM I thought I'd go ahead and post this. Hope you enjoy. :)

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It was a bright and sunny day down in Orlando, Florida. The sky was a beautiful, crisp blue with white, fluffy clouds lazily rolling by. It was the kind of day to go out and play; to soak up the sunshine and bask in it's warm light.

But inside the Impact Zone there were no blue skies, no fluffy clouds.

And there certainly was no sunshine.

Footfalls echoed throughout the bare corridor as Emma Sheffield made her way through the building. In her hands was her ever present clipboard and on her face was a frown. An expression that had become her mask for the majority of the six months she had worked at TNA.

The young woman kept her head down and briskly continued on as she made her way through the building and towards her boss, Eric Bischoff's, office.

As she walked she passed by a few of the Knockouts. She glanced over at them and offered a kind, though small, smile before rushing on.

Tara gave her a wave while Velvet Sky simply frowned.

"Jeez, she really needs to lighten up." Velvet sighed, "She always looks so down in the dumps."

Tara looked after the young woman and shrugged, "I don't think she likes being here."

"Then why work here?" Velvet questions, "There are other places to go work."

"I don't know." Tara glanced back at Velvet, "Maybe I'm wrong. I mean, she's always been nice to me. Maybe she's just having a rough day."

"For the past six months?" Velvet arched an eyebrow.

"Well think of how you'd feel if you had to work closely with Eric Bischoff." Tara disputed with a knowing look.

That gave Velvet reason to pause.

She watched as Emma round the corner and disappeared from view, "I guess you're right."

Emma glanced at her watch and picked up her pace. The last thing she wanted to do was keep Bischoff waiting. To do so would only cause her more grief. And that was the last thing she needed.

She eventually reached a closed door and was about to reach for it when it swung open from the other side. She quickly jumped back to avoid being hit, her eyes widening in surprise.

Suddenly there was Kurt Angle, emerging through the doorway.

"Sorry." Kurt gave her a nod.

"That's all right." Emma assured him, offering a ghost of a smile.

She promptly ducked past him, hurrying on. There was just something about him that unnerved her. It must have been his crazy eyes.

Emma looked up, spotted Eric's office up ahead. As she reached it she felt her stomach begin to tie into knots and her heart begin to pound. All telltale signs of her nerves threatening to go out of control.

She placed her hand on the doorknob and closed her eyes, slowly taking a few deep breaths. She willed herself to calm down, knowing that if Eric saw her anxious he would pounce on it. The last thing she wanted to do was give him an advantage.

Get control, calm down, she told herself, You're fine. Or at least you're going to pretend you are. So put on your mask and just do your job.

She opened the door and walked inside, finding Eric seated at his desk. He was hunched over a small stack of papers, reading them over carefully.

"Would you like some coffee, Mr. Bischoff?" she asked, her tone at once businesslike, "I think Catering still has a few cheese Danish left over. I could go get one for you."

Eric looked up from his paperwork, his blue eyes slowly trailing over her body. The insulting look made Emma's skin crawl. More than anything she wanted to reach across the desk and slap the cretin, but she kept her temper in check and forced herself to not react.

A sly smile came to Eric's lips as he replied smoothly, "While a Danish sounds good I would rather treat myself to a cupcake, cupcake."

Emma's eyes constricted and her hands tightened on her clipboard until her knuckles turned white.

"Sorry but I don't believe Catering has any cupcakes." she added with a smirk, "Perhaps I can get you a prune Danish instead. I heard they work wonders for guys your age."

Eric lost his leer for a moment and Emma knew she had stung him. The realization caused her to do a little happy dance in her head.

But just as it had left, it was quickly replaced with a conniving grin, "I'd watch it, Emma. Don't forget I still own you for another four and a half years."

He rose from his desk but didn't make a move towards her. Just the same Emma found herself taking a step back in trepidation.

"Of course," Eric gave her another long, slow once over, "Things could go easier on you if you'd just play ball. I could make it worth your while."

Emma was about to tell him there wasn't enough money in the world that would make him worth anything to her but she didn't get the chance. At that moment the door swung open with a great flourish and who should come in like a whirlwind but Sting. Or the Insane Icon as those around the building were beginning to call him. And he was playing the part to the hilt, what with the crazy white, red and black face pain that he was now sporting.

Emma made her way across the room, wanting to keep as much distance from the unstable man as possible. She leaned back against the wall, hoping to blend in and not catch his eye. She really didn't need to deal with him now and she certainly didn't want to be the butt of any of his crazy antics.

She couldn't believe how much Sting had changed. She used to be so in awe of him back when she was in high school. Back when he was going through his "Crow" phase.

Actually awe wasn't even a strong enough word to describe it. No, it was more like a terribly huge crush. Or even. . .puppy love.

But to see him now, well he definitely still affected her. But now the only emotions he invoked out of her were apprehension and dread.

Her eyes darted over to Eric and she couldn't help but smirk. No matter how jumpy she was feeling it didn't compare to the downright terror that had overcome Eric. She enjoyed seeing that more than she could have thought possible.

Sting kicked the door closed, the suddenly noise causing Eric to jump. The wrestler bounded into the room and actually took a seat on top of Eric's desk, sitting Indian style. Eric tried to side step him, but Sting grabbed a hold of the front of Eric's shirt and yanked him forward until the pair were practically nose-to-nose.

Eric looked into Sting's brown eyes and paled considerable.

"Wh-wh-what do you want, Sting?" he tried to sound tough but with the way his voice trembled he couldn't quite pull it off.

"Wh-wh-wh-what do I wh-wh-want?" Sting exaggerated his stammer before flashing his perfect white teeth at Eric. With the crazy face paint the smile looked more sinister than it should have been.

"What do you want?" Eric bellowed, his fear making him angry.

Sting shoved Eric away, causing the other man to fall back onto his desk chair. It rolled against the wall and jerked to a stop, Eric bouncing in the seat. He looked up at Sting with wide eyes.

"Well let's see." Sting pretended to contemplate, "Hmm, what do I want?"

"I know!" he yelled as he jumped off the desk, causing both Eric and Emma to start with surprise, "How about a pizza party? Come on, Eric, let's have a pizza party! Pies as far as the eye can see! Oh, and casual Fridays! Everyone in their jammies!"

His smile faded and the Insane Icon left for a moment, "Also, how about you give Dixie Carter back her company."

Sting puffed out his chest and the Insane Icon made his return as he finished in a voice dripping with false pretension, "And, of course, world peace."

Eric stared at him like he was mad. Which he very well may have been.

"What?" he gasped in exasperation, "What? Get out of here! Get out of here, Sting, before I have security throw you out!"

Sting suddenly leaned forward, grabbing Eric by the back of the head and yanking him forward until they were once again mere inches apart.

"I'll drop you on your head before they even make it into the room." Sting muttered, Insane Icon persona once again vanishing for a moment. In it's place was something very cold and very dark and it actually made Emma afraid.

Sting straightened and patted Eric on the cheek, once more grinning like the madman he was, "Good talk, Eric. Good talk."

He walked around the desk and started to leave when he caught sight of Emma. He turned to face her, now focusing all of his attention onto her.

Emma tried to appear calm and nonchalant but she couldn't stop the slight tremble that began to race through her body. She also couldn't hide the fear that welled up in her blue-green eyes. The truth was he really scared her.

And he knew it.

Sting slowly walked over to her, as though any sudden movement might spook her. He stopped about a foot or two away from her but it was still much too close for Emma's liking. He was so tall and she so short, 6'2" to her 5'1" height, that she was forced to crank her neck back to look up at him.

The wrestler looked her over with something unreadable in his eyes. He appeared to be considering something. Something Emma really didn't want to know.

"Has anyone ever told you that you have very pretty eyes?" Sting asked her, unpredictably serious.

Emma blinked in surprise. Okay that was definitely not what she was expecting.

He flashed a grin at her, "Big bluish greenish eyes. And all those long lashes. Very pretty."

And without another word he turned and left the office.

Emma found herself staring after him, completely at a loss of what to say or think. Of all the things she expected him to say, giving her a compliment was the very last thing on her list. Heck, it hadn't even made the list.

Emma blinked again, coming out of her thoughts. She noticed that Eric was watching her, his features hardened, his mouth a slash. At his expression she sighed. Great, just what she needed.

"If you're done flirting with the freak," Eric replied loudly, "You can go change the toilet paper rolls in the men's room."

He flashed a cocky smile, adding, "Of course, if you just lightened up a little you wouldn't have to do it or anything like it again. Come on, Emma. I can make the next four years here a dream for you. Just say the word."

Emma had a lot of words she wanted to say to him. But they certainly weren't the ones he was hoping to hear.

"I guess I better go change the rolls." she muttered darkly before storming out of the office.

She surged through the halls, her anger causing her pace to quicken.

She'd like to tell Eric Bischoff what he could do with his toilet paper rolls. Ugh, the nerve of him! He was so spineless, so. . .so. . .ugh, she couldn't even think of enough vile words to call him.

Emma rounded a corner and suddenly crashed into a human brick wall.

"Oof!" she gasped and staggered back.

Suddenly a pair of large hands took hold of her, steadying her before she could fall. She slowly paned up the hands to a pair of arms to the masked, hulking figure of Abyss. He was looking down at her, hesitant and shy. As if realizing that he still had a hold of her he promptly let her go and backed away.

Emma smiled brightly up at him. Though others might have been afraid of him, even likening him to some sort of monster, she wasn't. From the moment she had stepped foot into the Impact Zone Chris had been shy and even sweet to her.

"Hey, Chris." she greeted him warmly, "Thanks for the save. After the day I've had I really didn't need to add a fall to it."

Abyss slipped his hands into the pockets of his pants and ducked his head, asking quietly, "Are you all right?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." she patted his massive arm, adding, "Nothing I can't handle. I'll see you later."

Abyss nodded to her and tentatively walked away. Emma stared after him and sighed. She felt so bad for him. He always seemed so lonely, so sad.

She continued on, finally approaching the men's room. She closed her eyes briefly and cursed Eric's name in her head.

She sighed and knocked on the door, calling out, "Anyone in there?"

She was answered with silence. Thinking better of it, though, she knocked again and waited.

The coast was clear.

Emma quickly slipped inside and changed the toilet paper rolls. She then wandered over to the sink and began to wash her hands.

After drying them she lifted her head, her unhappy reflection greeting her in the mirror.

Only her reflection wasn't alone. Standing behind her, grinning wildly, was Sting.

Sting noted that she didn't even flinch at his suddenly appearance and he couldn't help but respect her for that. Most women, and men for that matter, would have jumped out of their skin or yelped. But not this one. She had a steel spine.

Neither spoke for a long time as they simply studied each other in the mirror. She didn't like the way he was looking at her. She couldn't tell what he was thinking under all that face paint.

Sting leaned in ever so slightly and finally asked, "Why are you staring?"

Emma's eyebrows arched in disbelief. He was asking her why she was staring? Really?

"I don't know." she found herself quipping, "I was just trying to decide if you're certifiable or psychotic."

Sting suddenly grabbed her shoulders and this time she did yelp. He knelt down and leaned in close, until they were cheek-to-cheek, that ever present crazy grin staring back at her from the mirror. Emma, feeling afraid, tried to duck away but his grip was too strong. He could hold her there all day if he wanted to.

And he knew that she knew it.

Her eyes narrowed in anger as she realized he was just trying to scare her. Of course he was doing a great job of it but she wasn't about to let him see it.

"Just think of how much fun it'll be for you to find out." Sting laughed at her, his own brown eyes wide.

Out of instinct Emma tried to break free once more. But still it did her no good.

Her chin went up a notch as an unexpected burst of courage welled up inside her.

"Are you done now?" she asked evenly.

But he didn't say a word. He just continued to stare at her reflection with that same maniacal expression.

After a few more seconds she couldn't take it anymore and she gasped, "What?"

Sting turned serious and straightened, but he didn't release the hold on her shoulders.

"I can't figure you out." he said at long last, lips pursed in thought, "You align yourself with Bischoff and Immortal, but you don't act like the rest of them. I saw how you were with Abyss earlier. You were nice to the big guy."

"Chris is just misunderstood." Emma disputed, "He's actually very sweet. But nobody takes the time to try and get to know him."

She sighed, "And I'm not aligned with anyone. I'm just here to do my job."

Sting looked around the men's room before turning back to her and quipping, "And what an important job it is, too."

Emma looked away, fighting not to lose her temper. She just wanted to get out of there and as far away from him as she could. He made her nervous. Especially the way he kept staring at her.

"I'd like to go back to work now." she told him, her tone cool, "Please."

"One more thing." Sting murmured thoughtfully.

He suddenly grabbed a hold of the clip that was holding her hair up in it's usual bun. Emma was stunned and started to struggle a little before thinking better of it and stopping. If she fought him it might make him angry. And the last thing she wanted to deal with was an angry Insane Icon.

She actually feared for a moment that he was going to cut her hair. He was just so out of control that she didn't know what he was capable of. She tried to look for any sign of scissors but there didn't appear to be any.

Without a word Sting removed the clip, causing her almost waist-long, chestnut brown mass curls to fall onto her shoulders and down her back.

He leaned in, again his face pressed against hers. His expression was so serious that Emma found she was caught, unable to move or speak as she awaited what he would say or do.

"I've always wondered what you would look like with your hair down." he replied softly, "That's much better."

He straightened, released her and walked out the door as if nothing had just happened.

Emma watched after him in mute surprise. That was definitely not what she was expecting.

Absently her hand went to her hair and she shook her head. She just couldn't figure him out. There were times where he seemed over the edge. Crazy. But then he would have moments, sparks really, where she could see the old Sting.

Was it all just an act, she wondered. A way to put Bishoff on edge and throw him off of his game?

Or was he really just mad?

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Sting stalked off down the hall. As he passed by Mr. Anderson and Magnus he suddenly spun around.

"Boo!" he yelled before laughing and continuing on.

"Real funny, Stinger!" Mr. Anderson called after him, annoyed.

Sting paid him no heed as he turned and ducked out of sight. He had plans for tonight. Everything needed to go perfectly so that he could catch Immortal red handed, as it were.

He snickered at his little joke as he ascended up to the rafters and began to check on some ropes. Good, they were nice and tight. Nothing would happen until he was ready.

He finished setting up his surprise and leaned against the railing, looking out over the arena.

The ring stood silent and true in the middle of the room. A lone light shone on it, as though likening it to a beacon.

And it was for many guys. A place for a man to find fortune and glory. To prove he was the best. To show that he could go the distance. It meant different things to many people.

For him, it was home.

He loved being out there. He loved competing. He loved hearing the fans and thriving on their energy.

This business, this place, was everything to him.

And he wasn't going to let Bischoff and Immortal ruin it. Not without a fight.

Sting found his thoughts wandering to Bischoff's little assistant. Now there was a mystery. He couldn't figure her out.

She didn't look like she belonged with Bischoff's group. Heck, she didn't even look like Eric's usual assistants. They were typically, let's say, easy. Complete with tons of make-up, low cut tops and skirts so short that the whole world was their gynecologist.

But not Emma. She could been seen walking around in slacks and a cardigan buttoned up to her throat. Or one of those long skirts she thought she could hide in. And her hair was always in a bun.

Sting began to frown. He didn't know why but that bun irritated him. It just. . .bugged him.

And though she appeared reserved, maybe even a little cool, she wasn't mean. She was down right nice if what he saw between her and Abyss, of all people, was any indication.

He had caught the animosity between her and Bischoff when he had stepped into the office. It was clear that she didn't like the guy. Which only made her smart in his book.

So why was she working for him?

His lips pursed as he pondered that question. Yeah, she was definitely a tough nut to crack.

He started to smirk at that word. Nut. That was what they called him nowadays. And maybe he was. Maybe Bischoff and the rest of his jackals had finally pushed him over the edge. Who was to say?

He straightened and sighed, running a hand through his hair. He didn't even know anymore.

His eyes slowly traveled back to his little surprise and he began to chuckle, thinking about what was going to happen.

It was gonna be a gas.