A/N - So it's practically been a year since I last updated this one. But I read over it the other day and wondered why I had started to neglect it in the first place. I totally get to dabble into an area I don't really get to in the wrestling world lol. This chapter is just a way for me to kind of worm my way back into the story. Hopefully I can get back on track with things pretty soon. And btw, just like I couldn't keep Trips away, I couldn't keep Mrs. Trips away either lol. They're just too awesome to keep out of things!

Randy nodded at some of his men guarding the entrance to the elevator. It was an industrial elevator and would take him down to the basement where the meeting was being held. To the outside world the old building just looked like a regular Pawn Store. Little did they know that the Pawn Store was the legitimate business front to the vast Orton family crime syndicate. He pulled at his tie and tried to fix it up before stepping off the large platform and rounding a couple of corners. The underground complex was huge and housed offices, equipment, stock, even housing for some of his men. As he spotted the group of several men inside one of the offices to his right, he took a deep breath before bursting into the meeting with a grin on his face.

"Randy, how very nice of you to join us."

He ignored the pissed off tone in DiBiase's voice and continued the grin all the while shaking the hands of the other men in the room. They had never bought from them before so he was a little wary. But they were selling their stuff for a lot cheaper than if he was to buy it legally, most likely because it was stolen. As if he gave a damn. "Gentlemen! I'm so sorry I'm late, I hope I haven't missed too much."

"Oh no, sir. We have just finished up actually," one of the men replied in a thick Russian accent. He was older with thinning hair and a hardened face. He motioned to Ted in the seat before him and smiled. "Your associate and I hammered out all the details. I'm sure my boss will be most pleased with our deal."

Randy looked at Ted with a sideways glance and upon his small nod of approval, reached forward to shake the tough Russian's hand again. He smiled as the sound of scraping chairs filled the room. "As will I. You tell him that it was definitely a pleasure doing business with him and that if he ever needs anything, he knows where to find me."

"Absolutely, sir," the Russian nodded.

"Rhodes. DiBiase. See these gentlemen out please," Randy called over his shoulder. He watched as young Cody Rhodes and Ted DiBiase's son stepped forward and began escorting their Russian friends off the premises. He turned to the elder DiBiase when they were out of ear shot and smiled. "Well now, that seemed to have gone well. What did I miss?"

DiBiase Senior bit his tongue and held in his anger. If he hadn't have been here the Russians would have turned up for empty negotiations. What type of message would that have sent? He shook his head briefly before setting his eyes upon the cocky young man in front of him. Against his better judgment he decided to just let it rip and let the chips fall where they may. "You shouldn't have missed anything, Randy? Where the hell where you? And what the fuck where you thinking?"

"Don't you fucking take that tone with me, Ted!" Randy started, just about to go into a full blown rant when he was cut right off.

"Oh I'll take whatever tone with you I want, son. If it weren't for me you quite possibly would have had your hands full with the Russians right now. Then what would you have done? You have every damn cop in this town on your back right now. The Hart's are out for blood. You've burned every bridge with most of the other families and small time operations in the city and to top it all off you're out gallivanting instead of being here where you need to be!" Ted fumed. He was breathing heavily and was surprised to see that Randy appeared to be listening. The shocked expression on his face was enough to make him keep going. "If you want to be even half as successful and rich as your father was then you need to start getting involved and by that I sure as hell don't mean shooting up a bunch a people at the dock. You want to get your hands dirty? That's fine so long as you get them dirty on the financial side too. I know you can do it, Randy. You're just choosing not to."

Randy's expression was blank as he just looked the older man in the face. He wanted nothing more than to grab him and beat his head against the desk for speaking to him like that. But the worst of it all was that the old man was right. Since his father's death he had taken control full force. The first few years were all him. Now he was getting complacent. Ted was absolutely right in saying that he could have royally fucked things up with the Russians today and he didn't need that. He rubbed a hand over his face and sighed. "You're right, Ted."

Ted almost choked. What was that? Did Randy just say that he was right? He kept staring on, just waiting for the inevitable 'but' to come but it didn't.

"You're absolutely right. I don't know what has gotten into me lately but it ends right now," Randy nodded his head in determination. "Just watch me take this family to heights my father could have only dreamed about."

The slamming shut of the door made Ted jump slightly. His eyes followed Randy out of the room and eventually around the corner until he disappeared out of sight. He seemed to have lit a fire under the young man's ass. With a triumphant smile he too made his way out of the room with the mind for getting back to business.

"Fuuuuuuck," Paul whined as he folded his arms on the desk and laid his head upon them.

John let out a heavy puff of air. He felt exactly the same as his partner. They had been going over everything they had on the Orton family all day. Previous crime reports dating all the way back to Orton Senior, the locations of suspected illegal businesses, his bars, prostitute rings, drug shops, hits, murders, attempted murders, all of it. The rap sheet was a mile long and they weren't even finished. He absently scratched at the back of his head and let out a chuckle as Paul started mumbling to himself against the sleeve of his shirt. He grabbed a piece of blank paper, wadded it into a ball and then laughed out loud as it smacked his buddy right on the forehead.

"Wha…." Paul groaned as he lifted his head and swatted at whatever it was that just hit him. When he heard his friend laughing he immediately glared in his direction. "Nice to see you find this whole thing so funny."

"What's the matter, Paulie? You don't like actually having work to do?" John teased.

"Not when I could be at home doing something a hell of a lot more productive with my wife, no," he grumbled. "This is getting us nowhere."

John's teasing tone suddenly disappeared as he was reminded of what was waiting for him at home. He let out a heavy sigh as Trish entered his mind. He didn't know what was up or down with her anymore.

"Surely you know what I'm talking about, man. You've got the beautiful Trish waiting for you when we finish up here," Paul smiled. Being partners meant spending a lot of time together. Because of that he was very familiar with Trish just as John was the same way with his wife, Stephanie. In fact, any time there was any sort of Precinct party or shindig going on, the two women seemed to get on extremely well. But his smile soon faltered when he saw the strange expression on his friend's face. Suddenly growing serious, he got up from the desk and leaned forward. Any time his partner's fiancée had been mentioned lately it drew that same withdrawn response. "Hey, you wanna tell me what's going on there?"

"What do you mean?" John half laughed in attempt to brush the whole thing off. When he looked into his friend's hazel eyes he knew it wasn't happening. He held out his hands and spoke light heartedly. "We just had a fight, man, that's all. It's nothing to worry about. We'll get over it."

Paul titled his head suspiciously. "Another fight? Seems to me like you guys are fighting all the time."

"Yeah, well not everybody has a wife as understanding as you, Paul," John snapped and immediately regretted it.

"Whoa! Where the hell did that come from?" When he received no response Paul's concern only grew. Something was up. "John?" he asked gently in the hopes that the other man would finally open up.

John stared at the desk before raising his eyes and managing a sad smile. "We're always fighting because of this."

"Because of what?"

"Because I'm here at nine o'clock at night instead of being at home with her."

Paul shook his head in confusion. "You don't have a regular job, John. What the hell does she expect? You're a fucking detective!"

"That's what I keep telling her but it doesn't seem to count for anything! She fucking hates that I have this job, I know it. Every time the phone rings I know we're going to fight because I'll have to go and she just can't accept that. It's driving me crazy, man. I don't know how to fucking deal with it anymore," John thumped the desk in frustration and was just about to start up again when he spotted a familiar face walking through the door to the main cubicle area. His anger quickly subsided and he let out a genuine smile. He nodded and watched as his Paul's face lit up and he got up to greet the woman who came to stop at their joined desks. After kissing her husband, Stephanie Levesque turned to John himself and pulled him into a great big hug.

"John! I haven't seen you in forever!"

The pair broke the hug and he stepped back, unable to stop smiling due to the infectious grin on the woman's face. "It's good to see you again, Steph. And you can blame this guy right here. We all know he's keeping you locked away so you won't smarten up and leave his sorry ass!"

"Hey!" Paul frowned as he wrapped a protective arm around her waist. He glared at his friend for a second before turning to his wife. "What are you doing here though, babe? It's late."

"I know it's late. And knowing you two you probably haven't stopped to eat dinner yet. So I thought I'd come and try to pry you away and get you out of this damn precinct!"

Paul grinned and started reaching for his suit jacket. "That sounds good to me."

Stephanie smiled as she watched him pack up before turning to look to John who was just standing there. "Well?"

"Well what?"

"Get your damn coat on, we're leaving!" She rolled her eyes at him when he still just stood there. "Don't make me tell you twice, John Cena! It's been far too long since we've last caught up with each other. Your ass is coming whether you want it to or not!"

John narrowed his eyes at Paul who just laughed at the fact that he had gotten told off. He snatched his jacket up and put away the strewn files on his desk.

"I think this is exactly what you need, man. You're having woman troubles and who better to talk to than a woman, right?" Paul grinned, taking Stephanie's hand as the trio headed towards the door.

Stephanie's head snapped to the left so she could look at John, her pretty features marred with concern. "You're having woman troubles?"

John bit back his reply before deciding to just spill it. She would have got it out of him eventually. "Yeah. Things aren't going so great with Trish right now, I….." He stopped when Stephanie held up her hand.

"Stop! You can tell me all of it after dinner, alright? First of all we're getting you a drink, John. You look like you could use it."

As he stepped out onto the chilly street with his friends, any thoughts of the case or his fiancée were pushed to the back of his head. He couldn't remember the last time he just chilled out and he knew he wasn't going to be the third wheel with Paul and Stephanie tonight. Steph wouldn't allow it after knowing that he was having with trouble with Trish. No, he would be well looked after. And hey, maybe in the end he would come of it with some helpful advice.