Obsequious

Chapter 1

Initiation night.

Time had flown rather quickly since her disappearance from television. That was alright, it had all been worth it just to build the suspense of what was to come. Tahlia looked in the full-length mirror, wearing a black slip of a dress that rested against her thighs. She wasn't a slut like the other women in the WWF and prided herself on that, having true in-ring ability. Her long blood red hair hung down her back in waves, straightened with angled bangs so it rested partially over her face. Deep amber orbs were outlined in black liner, clear gloss painted her lips and a black choker adorned her neck. Picking up the black robe, Tahlia slipped her arms into it and let it settle over her shoulders, nodding at her appearance. Hopefully, this would please her new master.

The door opening jolted Tahlia out of her thoughts as she looked back at another who would be initiated alongside her that evening. Dennis Knight, or Mideon, as the others had been referring to him as for the past several weeks since his own abduction. He still couldn't fully think of himself as Mideon, not just yet...not until later that night. Dennis smiled at Tahlia nervously, rubbing his hands together. He was as ready as he was going to get, more than ready; he wanted this.

"Almost time." He croaked, clearing his throat with a cough and another one of his weird little smiles. "Ready?"

Handpicked by the Undertaker...it was an honor and he couldn't understand why he had been so terrified when this was what he wanted…what he needed. It was time for a new era, a new regime, and he would be at the forefront of it in the days to come. They had gotten to know each other since the abductions; locked in a cell together developed a friendship between them. Tahlia had been all for escaping until they were brought to the master.

The Phenom of the WWF – the Undertaker.

He was the most respected and revered man in the company, possibly the greatest wrestler of all time. And he wanted both Dennis and her to join his crusade. It was all about power and he wanted to build an army in order to combat with Vince McMahon's Corporation. Tahlia had a bone to pick with them, especially Chyna, who she'd been feuding with for several months. She felt the same way Dennis did; it truly was an honor and privilege to be chosen by the Deadman and Tahlia refused to disappoint.

"You're shaking." She pointed out amusedly, placing a hand on his arm and smiled up at him. "Relax and breathe, Mideon." She knew better than to call him anything else.

"I'm trying, Tahlia, I'm trying."

He honestly was, but it was hard because of his excitement. When he had first been taken, he had been scared out of his mind. Nobody came back right...everyone had learned that. They all seemed changed and now he knew why because they were fighting for a cause, a bit of history in their little place in the world. Dennis craved that change.

"It's almost-" Heavy, deliberate footsteps echoed outside as Dennis cocked his head. "Time." He breathed, jumping up and down in place, trying to vent out this energy.

Her voice was low and soothing with an almost haunted tone. "You will give yourself a heart attack if you do not calm down." She pointed out, sounding mildly concerned and slowly moved her eyes to the door, the handle turning.

The time really had come. She merely stood there with her hands clasped in front of her while Mideon continued pacing to relieve his nervous energy. Tahlia remained calm as a cucumber, her face stoic and showed nothing she thought or felt.

"I do hope you're ready for this." Paul Bearer stated, stepping inside with a large looming dark figure standing behind him, staring at the two people to be initiated into his Phenom's Ministry. "Mideon, fix your robe…"

Nodding, Dennis did so eagerly. He wasn't in the ideal shape for this business, but his heart was just fine, though it felt like it was going a million miles a minute. He marveled at how well Tahlia seemed to be able to keep it together, wishing he had her composure. His gaze moved to the towering figure, knowing exactly who it was. The Boss, the Master, the Lord of Darkness…Dennis realized he was acting quite…gay and cooled his jets.

Beneath his hood, the corner of his mouth curved up in the barest hint of an amused sneer. He had chosen well…for the most part.

"Good, now follow."

Tahlia nodded once at Mideon being a gentleman and letting her walk in front of him, keeping her face straight. She didn't dare look up at the Lord of Darkness, not yet. It wasn't allowed until after the initiation, where they both would be considered equals among the other members. So far, it was just the Acolytes, Bradshaw and Farooq, along with her and Mideon. The army wasn't done being built, but that would all happen in due time. Once Paul stopped, she did and kept her head lowered with the cloak hood up. She looked like a black velvet statue, but if one looked close and hard enough, they would see her chest slightly rising and falling through the cloak.

Everyone thought he was crazy. Evil. Some even used the words satanic and demonic. Perhaps they were right. The way he took his recruits, snatching them from their mundane, boring lives and jobs…it was a little dramatic, but he had always had a flair for the dramatic, the dark and sinister. Tonight, he knew would raise even more concerns; a woman was joining his little group. He could hear it now and closed his eyes, his feet carrying him with surety to their destination as he envisioned it. A low hiss escaped him, one of content. He did love these moments and rested a hand on each of his initiates' heads.

"Moments until you are truly…mine."

"Yes, my Lord."

"Yes, my Lord."

Paul smiled approvingly as they answered in unison, seeing the pleased look in his Phenom's eyes. He had some input on who to choose to join their crusade, but ultimately it had been Undertaker's decision. It was a little unsettling to discover he wanted a woman to join the ranks, but Paul had to abide by what he wanted. He saw no desire or want in his Dark Lord's eyes, so hopefully all would remain completely professional. They were here to do their master's bidding and nothing more, to serve and obey only him.

Bradshaw and Farooq joined the ranks moments later, each in black skintight shirts with pants, arms folded in front of their chests, both men remaining silent.

Tahlia took a deep silent breath as the cloak was removed from her head along with Mideon, each directed to the waiting platforms they would be strapped to. A T with spikes through it…the Undertaker's personal seal and symbol. Bradshaw guided her over to it while Farooq took care of Mideon, once again all of this done in silence with the master watching intently.

Undertaker had selected Tahlia for reasons beyond the fact that she was easy on the eyes. She was beautiful and not in the sense that seemed to be the normal with the women in this organization. There was nothing plastic on her and she defied conventions in her way of dressing and how she spoke. She was not airheaded, not a piece of eye candy. She had talent in the ring and held herself with respect and was a woman who knew her self-worth, would not bow to any man just because it was expected of her. No…she was more than that and those qualities is what he needed in his Ministry. He watched impassively as everything was done, eyes moving between his two chosen thoughtfully.

Bowing to the Undertaker was Tahlia's choosing and freewill. One thing about him was he wanted all of his followers, his minions, to choose if they wanted to be in his Ministry of Darkness or not. Why wouldn't she? Tahlia had been locked up in a cell, but no harm had come to her. She was well-fed, clothed and not asked to do anything degrading. Not to mention, this was the Undertaker. Her career would skyrocket being associated with him along with Paul Bearer, another legend of the business. It would be foolish of her to pass up this rare opportunity because Undertaker only handpicked a few he felt worthy enough to serve his cause.

Staring up at the ceiling while Bradshaw finished the bounds around her wrists and ankles, Tahlia continued breathing in and out evenly, not a hint of fear in her eyes and face, just sheer determination. Dennis looked over at Tahlia just to make sure she was holding up alright, feeling somewhat protective of her since they'd spent a few weeks together in that cell. Once again, she was perfectly content with the situation just as she had been in the cell. Not once did she freak out or lose her cool like he did. Deciding to take her lead, Dennis turned his head to stare up at the ceiling and shut his eyes, knowing he was about to fully become Mideon.

This was the part that seemed to freak everyone except them out…when he spoke in 'tongues', which was actually old Latin. If these peons would educate themselves, they would have known exactly what he was saying. This was an initiation, almost like a reverse Catholic Mass or baptism. He was baptizing them all right, into his personal Darkness, into a new life. New opportunities. He knew some of them would never reach their true potential, not when they finally left him. But he also knew which ones would, which ones were exceptional. Tahlia, for example, and he looked directly at her, considering her future.

"Tahlia, do you give yourself over completely to the Lord of Darkness and his Ministry?" Paul asked, proceeding with the ceremony that wouldn't be shown on television and stepped aside to make room for the Undertaker.

"My mind, body, heart and soul belong to him. I will do whatever my Lord commands me and I will not fail him." Tahlia answered, keeping her eyes on the ceiling even as the Undertaker peered down at her, the hood of his cloak drawn up to shroud his face in darkness. She didn't look directly at him and felt his finger slid across her forehead, marring her skin with black ink.

"Mideon, do you give yourself over completely to the Lord of Darkness and his Ministry?" Paul reiterated, leaving his Phenom to finish up with Tahlia and watched the man nod his head, replicating the same exact words she had moments ago.

Phase one of the initiation had been completed and phase two would be broadcasted live for the world to see.

This was the part that everyone would lose their minds over and that just made it all the sweeter. He made sure the camera had a pretty clear view of what was going on as he took his spot, rather enjoying these custom 'props' he had made, just for these occasions. His T and X symbol, used for chairs…the sacrificial tables. The whole set had been built from scratch, painted black, by the newest recruits, with help from the Acolytes. It was a test to see if they could handle following a simple order from their master. Each person who was initiated into the Ministry of Darkness had to make their own symbol from the materials provided.

The instructions were simple, fashion the wood into his symbol, big enough for their bodies to comfortably fit on, along with painting it black or dark purple. Tahlia opted for purple while Mideon stuck with black, though on camera they both looked identical. Along with the symbols made came the Undertaker's throne, which he had constructed and built himself. It took 2 weeks, but in the end the symbols had turned out beautifully and Tahlia was proud to be strapped to the very architecture she'd created singlehandedly.

Undertaker began speaking, his voice carrying throughout the building for all to hear, thanks to the mouthpiece he wore. He allowed his words to seep into every mind there, letting it sink in, letting them try to decipher what it all meant. The actual people who mattered -Tahlia and Mideon- they knew; they knew this was for them and when the words were done, he stood up. Paul was waiting beside Mideon, ignoring the age-old adage of ladies first. He preferred to think of it as saving the best for last. Mideon was one of those who would seek greatness and fall short. Tahlia, on the other hand, she was classed with Bradshaw and to a lesser extent Farooq and would find greatness.

Tahlia remained still with her eyes closed, just as directed by Paul, breathing in and out evenly. What she could hear from the fans was they didn't believe what was happening before their eyes. But she did. Undertaker had been very precise in his explanation of what to expect during the second half of the initiation. He showed them the silver dagger, which Paul currently handed over to the Dark Lord and proceeded to cut his wrist on national television, blood slowly seeping out of the wound. Tahlia didn't see any of this, but she could tell from the audience's response exactly what part they were at. His blood was put into a goblet and Mideon drank from it, just a sip of his sweet essence. Tahlia would have to do the same thing and had mentally prepared herself for drinking someone else's blood. It would seal her to the Undertaker in every way, her Lord and Master.

He was clean; he had let them know that ahead of time. STDs and disease free, and cutting himself on national TV, in front of a crowd…it was interesting. He would admit to getting a rush as the crowd lost its respective mind. Dennis Knight was no longer Dennis, but reborn Mideon and he took the dagger again. Here was the part where they had to have complete faith in him, trust that he would not hurt them. Mideon's robe was pulled down and he took that dagger, beginning the final part of Mideon's initiation into the Ministry. He carved his symbol into Mideon's chest. When he was done, he looked towards Tahlia.

Trust was hard to come by with Tahlia since she'd been burned one too many times by friends and ex-lovers. However, this was business and Undertaker was strictly that. She trusted him explicitly, knowing this would catapult her character growth as well as stardom in the WWF. It would all be worth it. Her eyes opened at his command to drink from the goblet and she did without hesitation, feeling the red liquid slid down her throat before gently being pushed back down on the symbol. Tahlia did everything in her power not to tense at his strong hand gliding up the length of her body, her eyes once again closing and could feel the dagger slicing away her own robe. Her heart pounded furiously against her chest, her adrenaline peaked off the charts and all Tahlia could do was lay there breathing steadily.

Undertaker marked her differently than he had Mideon. For one, when he had discussed this with them, individually, Mideon had insisted for days that it be done in a very pronounced manner, very prominent place. Mideon could be a fanatic. He would be utterly devoted to Undertaker and whatever cause he took up. He might need watched if it got out of control. Fanatics were great, if they could be controlled. Tahlia…he ran the blade down along the string of her dress, studying what skin he could see. She'd get her mark, but it would be smaller, subtler, something she'd be able to either live with or have removed quietly and quickly later down the road.

One thing about Undertaker was he took her feelings under consideration with this process, actually asking her thoughts on it. She was honest with him, not a fanatic like Mideon. Tahlia finally agreed for the carving to take place on her hip, knowing it would scar. He had to cut deep enough for blood to seep out and she was alright with it, having a high tolerance for pain. Maybe that was another reason why he chose her to join the Ministry. The dagger cut through the thin material of her black dress and slid up until he arrived at her hip, tearing what he had to away to completely expose it. Beneath, she wore black silk panties and a matching bra, though he wouldn't see the upper half of her. Tahlia didn't flinch or move, just tensed ever so slightly while he began the process of digging into her skin.

Well, she had decent taste in under garments, he would give her that. He was quick, but careful, making sure it would leave the scar the way he wanted. He hadn't bothered offering either of them anything for the pain. No quick drink. No Tylenol. No topical ointment. No, Undertaker needed people who could take whatever was dished out. When he was finished, he surveyed his work, mentally nodding in satisfaction. He was quite pleased with his choices and tonight's initiation.