HEY ALL! Welcome to phase two of the Eli strong story! I've been anticipating this day for the longest time. And going crazy! I could barely contain myself! No worries. Like always I'll upload a one every few days. And you'll love them. So remember.

Have fun.

REVIEW!

Love,

Skee.

Also. A quick disclaimer. I do not own any thing WWE related or anything else. Just Eli.

It took a few moments for me to realize why I was standing on the door step of this Texan ranch house.

Damn Jakie.

Damn him to hell.

It'd been just yesterday.

I flew home from Memphis, and was standing in the Air terminal, on a disgusting pay phone because I smashed my cell off of the hotel wall.

Granted, after hearing I was suspended, I might have lost my temper.

But the booze had calmed me down some.

I'd called the house to see if I could get a ride, instead of walking the fifteen miles home, but I was answered with this.

"No. Get your ass back on that plane and go to Texas."

I was stumped.

"Why the hell would I do that? I have a raging hangover. All I want to do is sleep."

"You know exactly why you have to go to Texas."

And I did.

This was the equivalent of a serf being summoned by her master.

I was being called by the man who had taught me everything I knew about wrestling.

And in the here and now, I was standing at his door step.

I took a deep breath and rose my hand.

With another breath, my index finger pressed the circular black button, it playing the old Victorian gong, and echoing through the house.

Within a few moments, the heavy wooden door was being pulled open.

Revealed to me was a tall, dark haired demon sleeved in black tattoos.

Or at least that's what he used to be.

He'd taken off the past year or so from in-ring competition, and frankly, I was glad.

If he knew exactly what I'd been doing while he was gone, I'd be dead.

"Eli, it's so nice of you to visit." his voice, deep and raspy, sent a chill down my spine and butterflies in my stomach.

I gulped down the nervous breath and responded.

"Well Mark. I didn't really have a choice now did I?"

Did I say Mark?

I meant the Undertaker.

He stood like a skyscraper in the door way, towering over me by almost two feet.

And had a curious look on his face.

Probably at the fact that I called him Mark, and not the same nickname I'd had for him since I was seven.

'Pops'.

I was thankful that he couldn't see past my dark sunglasses.

It was probably the only time in my life I was happy I had a hangover.

"So are you going to make me stand out here all day, or can I come in?"

So I wasn't exactly the most tactful person while at the mercy of the aftermath of an alcohol binge.

Or at all for that matter.

He gave me a thoughtful look.

"Actually." he paused. "Yeah."

I dropped my jaw.

"Go get changed. We're going for a run."

Finally, after standing at the door for those few dreadful minutes, he stepped aside and let me in.

"You got five minutes."

–

"Can I take a break?" I gasped, my head hanging low.

I could barely move before we left, now, over four miles later, I couldn't feel my legs.

"Sure."

I sighed in relief and was seconds away from collapsing on the tar underneath me.

"In six more miles."

I groaned and forced myself to trudge on.

"Here. Have some water." He extended his arm with a clear bottle.

I glared at him.

He'd said that we were going for a run.

Bullshit.

More like I was going for a run, and he got the drive down the road in his warm truck.

After I took my fill of water, I tossed it back at him.