Reap the Whirlwind

It was weirdly reassuring for Seth, in a way. Gauging by the, well, the general atmosphere backstage, everybody was feeling a little off balance that night. Nothing had gone as planned for pretty much anyone, not even him. It was like… Well, not like somebody hit the reset button on things. More like when you're reading a book and it feels like you're about to head into the climax of the story and then you realize that there's half a dozen chapters left. Just, uncertain. Confused. Off.

Not that Seth was getting any fewer daggers glared at him, oh no. Especially not when he rolled up in that Cadillac. And when he passed by Dolph Ziggler and the Usos? Oh, brother, if looks could kill. (But the Usos were giving Cena the same treatment, so there's that.)

Hunter seemed to be prepared for the worst, though. Security flocked unsubtly wherever Seth went, like so many useless extra shadows. Seth knew it was only a matter of time before Dean or Roman or somebody made their move. Then he got word that Carly was gonna call him out (because of course she was) and it looked like that was when the hammer was gonna come down. Maybe. The rule with Carly was "expected the unexpectedly ridiculous," so hell if Seth knew what she was plotting.

Huh. He should care more than this, shouldn't he? It was his neck that was on the line, after all. And he usually found it sorta fun to puzzle out what crazy thing Carly would pull next. Either way, Seth was surrounded by more security than ever as he waited backstage, listening for his cue.

"After every pay-per-view, somebody's bound to end up disappointed with the results," Carly was saying, "I'm certainly feeling a little dissatisfied today, and I'm sure a number of you are as well."

The assenting rumble from the crowd matched the expressions of grim agreement from those hanging around in the hall.

"But that's to be expected," Carly's voice continued, "When you put that many talented men in a ring together, anything can happen. Sometimes it just isn't your day and you just have to accept that, for that moment at least, the best man won. But sometimes… Sometimes that isn't the case at all. I'm sure all of you know exactly what I'm referring to."

People always talk about the "energy of the crowd" and crap like that, but at that moment, Seth would've sworn he could feel that unspoken resentment of thousands piling up on his back. He tried to shrug it off as he got into position behind the curtain, anticipating Carly's next words.

"Seth Rollins!" she called, "I know you're back there. Why don't you come on out, and we'll have ourselves a little talk?"

Fixing his trademark smug smile on his face, Seth swung casually around the corner; a microphone in one hand, and the briefcase in the other. And there stood Carly, back in blue. Her smile still looked a little off. Like everything else that night, Seth supposed. The crowd didn't miss a beat with the "You sold out!" chants, though. Seth had to wait almost a solid minute before they died down enough for him to be heard.

"Carly," he nodded.

"Mr. Rollins," she said icily.

Now there was a blast from the past. He hadn't been "Mr. Rollins" since she was the Authority's doormat.

"So formal," said Seth, "Come to think of it, you're even dressed more formally than usual, aren't you. You almost look like a real McMahon."

Even at this distance, Seth could see Carly's jaw tense at the insinuation.

"I see you continue to favor taking cheap shots," she said.

"I see you've developed a penchant for exploiting the rules," said Seth, "Not particularly honorable of you, princess."

Huh. Somehow he managed to make that nickname sound more derisive than Dean ever had.

"I suppose I'd have your approval if I honed my backstabbing skills instead," she said.

Not a terribly clever comeback, there. Might as well follow it up with one of equal caliber.

"Speaking of which," said Seth, "How's your back?"

Apparently he struck another nerve. Carly must be rattled for her to lose her poker face that easily. Not that Seth could blame her. Going through something like that would be enough to leave anyone sore, and not just physically.

"How's your conscience?" she fired back.

"My conscience?" he said, "Is that what this is all about? I thought I made myself very clear about 'why I stabbed my brothers in the back', or whatever it was everyone so desperately wanted to know."

He finished with a vague, dismissive gesture, glancing off into the middle distance to make it clear Carly didn't merit his full attention. He waited for her to respond, but she didn't. Strange… Seth looked back at her. Mistake. Making eye contact will always and forever be a massive, colossal mistake.

"I wanted to look you in the eyes," she said, "The traitor - Seth Rollins. Not even brave enough to look his brothers in the face when he turned on them. Too squeamish to get his own hands dirty. No, he had to resort to attacking from behind with a steel chair. Unbelievable. You're… you're actually laughing right now, aren't you. Smiling, damnèd villain."

Seth had to laugh. Seriously, he had to. It was Villainous Banter 101. Well, that, and that old fear suddenly reasserted itself. The fear that if somebody did just that – looked him in the eyes – they'd see right through him. Only… It didn't feel right calling it a "fear."

"Are you really in a position to be passing moral judgments on me?" Seth smirked, still playing his part, "You're no stranger to hitting people in the back with chairs, are you, Carly?"

Because it wasn't a fear, not anymore. Things were going south, and they were going south fast. Hunter's just using him, and everybody else on the damn roster would gladly beat his face in if given the opportunity. There was no place for him, unless…

"Don't you dare compare my actions with yours," Carly said in a low voice, "When you betrayed your brothers for the sake of your own selfish ego. You sold your soul for a piece of paper."

What he was feeling wasn't fear, it was hope. A crazy, desperate, last-gasp kinda hope, maybe the only one he had. If anybody, anybody was gonna be able to see through this, it was Carly. Seth had thought Roman would be able to, but Roman wasn't a strategist. He wasn't sneaky. Not like Seth. Not like Carly. She was always right there with him when they were coming up with crazy schemes. She could figure this out. She had to.

"Sold my soul?" Seth repeated amusedly, "It sounds to me like you're bitter. You came from the Authority, Carly. I mean, compliments where compliments are due? You could've been something. With your potential - your ability to adapt - you could've done great things. You could've had everything, and you threw it all away. And for what? Because you're just like Reigns and Ambrose. You had to go and bite the hand that fed you. You're out on this mission to out-fox the Authority, but you're not even a threat to them."

There. She remembered it. Those exact words, "out-fox the Authority," Carly remembered them. Seth saw it in her eyes, he knew he did. Thank God. Okay. Okay, he could do this. He just had to be careful. Couldn't be too obvious about it.

"You're like a gnat, you know?" he said nonchalantly, trying to throw any other astute listeners off his tracks, "Annoying, but ultimately inconsequential. Just look at you, standing in that ring like you think you belong there. You're in so far over your head that everybody else has given you up as lost, and you don't even realize that you're drowning! Look where you're standing! You're completely alone up there."

"Looks to me like you're completely alone over there, too," Carly said evenly, "I turned on the Authority to protect someone who was alone and defenseless. If only I'd known that he wasn't worth protecting, I… No. I would've done the same thing, even if I'd known."

Carly's expression took a turn for the confused and Seth's heart started hammering against his sternum, because there was his window. He had to be fast, had to send a message that only Carly would understand. If she remembered that, she'd remember this, too.

"Don't think I'm not grateful," he said, "Because, I mean, look at me now! So, thank you, Carly. That's one thing I can't fault you for. No matter how bad it looked, you were never wrong about who you promised to believe in, no matter what."

There! She knew. She knew. At least, she remembered those words. Her words. She could to this. She could figure it out. Seth willed her to understand his meaning, to stop believing that she was stupid for once and think.

"I mean, your idealistic naiveté would be amusing if it wasn't so pathetic," Seth went on, switching back to smug to cover for himself again, "But it was also very useful. That's your problem, Carly. You keep on trying to lead this revolution, but you can't seem to see the bigger picture."

"But you can," Carly said, unconvinced.

"Yes, I can," said Seth, "And if you would just stop for a minute, and watch what I'm capable of, you would see it, too."

And just like that, the window closed. That was all Seth had time for, anyway. Carly would think it over later. He knew she would. She'd figure it out. She'd figure it out and that'd be his lifeline when he finally flipped the script on Hunter. But for now, they had their little scene to finish playing out. Seth tried to steady himself. His poker face was second to none, but his insides were in knots. Alright, back to the old game, then. He could do this. Just a little while longer.

"All I see," said Carly, "Is a person stupid enough to side with the guy who hit him with a sledgehammer. Although… maybe that's your reason. I mean, Triple H is the definition of 'if all you have is a hammer, all you problems start to look like nails.' And you were tired of getting hit. Is that right?"

"Don't you try to spin this and make me look like a coward."

Even knowing his own reasons, that remark stung. Still, even Seth couldn't deny that's how it looked to everybody else. Coward or heartless opportunist. He wasn't really sure which was worse.

"You only have yourself to blame for that," said Carly.

"We always said the Shield does what's best for the Shield," said Seth, "Well, Seth Rollins has always done what's best for Seth Rollins. And you don't succeed in this business by standing still."

"If this is what you call success," Carly said, narrowing her eyes critically, "I have to say, it doesn't suit you at all."

Seth took a page out of the Authority's playbook, straightening his tie and pretending to preen under the insults. In fairness to him, it wasn't a very good insult. Still, judging by the fact that the disgust in Carly's expression just increased freakin' exponentially, playing smug was working for him.

"Maybe you weren't paying attention last night," he said, pasting on a condescending smirk, "Did you miss the part where I won? I'm Mr. Money in the Bank now, baby."

Oh, Seth knew that look. Maybe not as well as Dean did, but he knew it. That was the look of a woman who was inches away from slapping the taste out of his mouth. But to Carly's credit, she kept her cool.

"I can't argue with you and your oh-so-shiny briefcase," Carly said, with a mocking little bow, "But you fail to realize your position, Mr. Rollins. You of all people should know what a serious mistake it is for someone to hurt the people I care about."

"Are you threatening me?"

She couldn't be serious. Aw, who was he kidding. Of course she was serious. Carly's approximately sixty percent melodrama and reckless abandon.

"Merely reminding you of the facts," she replied loftily, "And I think I've wasted just about enough time on you. But I have to ask just one more thing before I let you go. Is, uh… is that your car?"

Oh no…

With a sinking feeling in his gut, Seth turned to look where Carly was pointing, up at the TitanTron. A dull thud echoed through the speakers as his microphone hit the floor. Shit.

"Oh, that looks bad," Carly was saying, "Somebody tore that engine to pieces. Almost like they wanted to rip the heart clean out of it. And, did they put a chair through the back windshield? That's almost poetic, isn't it."

Seth whirled back to face her.

"What the hell did you do?" he yelled, "Are you out of your goddamn mind? Do you have any idea what… You just…! That was a Cadillac!"

Without the mic, neither crowd nor Carly could really hear what he was saying. But from their reactions, Seth was pretty damn sure everyone was real amused by his misfortune. Well, at the end of the day it was really Hunter's misfortune. Huh… That was gonna add an extra layer of Not Good to this fail sundae, wasn't it.

Carly put on a good show of startled innocence.

"You can't think I did that, can you?" she said, "I've been standing here talking to you this whole time."

Seth raked his hands through his hair. Holy God, was she infuriating. And seriously? The three of them went for vandalism? Freakin' expensive vandalism, at that. He couldn't even form sentences anymore. The only thing coming out of his mouth was a blue streak that'd make the Attitude Era blush.

"You see, Mr. Rollins," said Carly (and Seth could practically hear her smirk), "If there's one thing gnats are good at being, it's a distraction."

Seth stormed backstage, not caring who he bowled over on his way to the parking lot. He wasn't acting. That was a nice car, damn it! Even if what it symbolized made him sick to his stomach, you don't just smash something like that up!

Hunter was already there, reading security the riot act for not stopping this from happening. Well, maybe it wasn't "reading them the riot act," quite. Hunter had that quiet, deadly serious demeanor that was somehow more terrifying than seeing him in an explosive rage. But there was still that funny look in his eyes, too. Sorta… unhinged, almost. Like he was getting closer and closer to being pushed over the edge.

Seth handled all the raging (still wasn't acting) but while he was running his mouth he was visualizing what must've happened out there. He pictured the look on Roman's face, that roar of a kiai, the sheer force it would've taken to slam a chair through the rear windshield. And then Dean leaning under the hood, the wide-eyed frenzied concentration as he violently disassembled the engine.

And if that's what they did to his car, just imagine what they probably wanted to do to him. Seth came into a clear and sudden understanding of the phrase "mortal terror." Fortunately, it seemed like Hunter realized it at the same time Seth did.

Hunter closed his eyes and took a long slow breath, before turning back to the security guys.

"Is it too much to ask," he said, that dangerous edge creeping back into his tone, "For you to do what I God damn pay you for, and make sure nothing happens to Seth for the rest of the show? Because if you let something like this happen again, I swear to God-"

Whatever threat Hunter planned on making was cut off by the untimely arrival of Dean and Roman. Dean locked eyes with Seth. Well. There was another phrase Seth got schooled in the true meaning of: "if looks could kill."

"You bastard!" Dean snarled.

There was only a split second delay between Dean and Roman charging and security closing ranks to hold them off. Not enough time for Seth to turn tail and run, but definitely enough time for him to seriously consider it.

He thought he'd heard a clatter when the two of them rushed forward, and if he looked past the chaos he could just make out Hunter's sledgehammer laying on the ground. Shit… They really were planning on killing him, weren't they?

Hunter stepped forward a pace, putting an arm out in front of Seth protectively. Possessively, really. Dean's voice still rang out over the men trying to order him away.

"You stabbed me in the back! You took everything from me, Seth! You took everything from me, and now I'm gonna take everything from you!"

"Get them out of here!" Hunter barked.

This was a side effect Hunter hadn't planned for when he sent Kane out to play deus ex machina. Dean… Well, he wasn't the type of guy who could just let things go. Any idiot could see that. And the lack of closure after MITB was not gonna sit well with him.

"This ain't over!" Dean shouted, straining to get through the line, "This ain't over, you son of a bitch!"

While he and Roman were herded off, Hunter grabbed Seth's elbow and pulled him along in the opposite direction, back towards the safety of the Authority's office. After hitting so many points of no return since he set his plan into motion, this most recent one didn't affect Seth much.

That alone scared him. He didn't want to accept the fact that he was a lost cause, but it seemed like he already had. Worse yet, he'd started to see this as an opportunity to get back into Hunter's good graces.

"Unbelievable," Hunter muttered.

"Hey, listen," said Seth. He slowed to a stop and lowered his voice, "I know this is a fiasco and a half, but let me handle it."

"I assume you have a plan?" Hunter sighed, rubbing his eyes.

Seth scoffed.

"Of course I have a plan," he said, "And sometimes the simplest plan is the best one. Ambrose says this isn't over? Then let's finish it. One match, just me and him. Nothing on the line, no stipulations, no interference. Just one last fight to prove who the better man is."

Hunter was silent for a moment. Skeptical, Seth could tell.

"You really think that's going to work?' asked Hunter.

"Look, every time we try to kill him, it just makes him fight that much harder. It's like throwing rocks at a hornets' nest. But a clean loss? That's something not even Ambrose can argue with."

Hunter nodded slowly.

"You may have a point there," he said, "And I'm not denying that that may be enough for Ambrose. But there's a bigger picture here. Things are getting out of hand, and the Authority needs to send a message to the rest of the roster. An example has to be made. This looks like a very good opportunity."

Seth swallowed his apprehension and disgust, shrugging, and smiled disarmingly.

"You're the boss."

Hunter picked up the sledgehammer, palming the head of it pensively, and Seth got the sinking feeling he knew exactly what was gonna happen to Dean.

If only he had some way of fast-tracking this plan to its conclusion. Yeah, he had the stupid briefcase, and that meant he had a title match wherever and whenever he wanted. But it wasn't that simple. If he jumped the gun, he'd blow the whole thing. And then there was Randy to worry about. Although…

Now there was a thought: let Randy have the first crack at Cena, and then take the title off of either of them afterwards. Seth would need Hunter on his side for something like that, though. But he had noticed that things seemed a little strained between what was left of Evolution lately. Assuming he could get clear confirmation that Hunter was about done with Randy, he could make this work.

And yeah, he was aware that he was diving into plotting to avoid dwelling on the fact that he was leading Dean into a trap.

Just a little while longer. Just until he cashed in and won the title. Then he'd be free to ditch this pretense and break from the Authority. What waited for him afterwards was probably going to be hell, but Seth would welcome any change from the hell he was already in.

xXx

Seth grew suspicious from the start. There was something wrong with Dean. Maybe Joe Average in the audience wouldn't notice it, but Seth could tell. Dean's style of fighting always looked haphazard, but there was always a method to it. But now he was… sloppy? No, that wasn't the word for it. Clumsy, maybe. Indecisive.

Seth didn't get it. After the pay-per-view, Dean clearly wanted to beat his face in, right? So why was he holding back? And Dean wasn't stupid. He had to know this match was a trap. Seth hadn't seen him like this in a long time. This wasn't a Dean Ambrose with an ace up his sleeve. This was a Dean Ambrose who just didn't care.

It was weird, though. And, come to think of it, Seth hadn't seen or heard from Carly all evening. Maybe the rumors were true. Maybe Dean and Roman did have some kinda falling out with her. Over what, Seth had no idea. And the middle of a match wasn't the time for theorizing. He had a job to do, and that job was to beat the hell out of Dean.

It was easy enough, bizarrely. Well, maybe not so bizarre. Seth was focused. His opponent was not.

So when it was all said and done, and Hunter's music hit, Dean was in no shape to defend himself. Hunter just smiled to himself, sauntering down to the ring with the sledgehammer over his shoulder, basking in the crowd's disgust. At this moment, Seth had no doubt that Roman was bogged down in trying to bulldoze his way through a few dozen security personnel in gorilla, and the extra security hired for tonight was blocking off any and all other entrances to make sure none of the "rebels" could interfere. When Hunter really wanted to make an example of somebody, he didn't leave anything to chance.

Hunter swung himself casually into the ring, like he had all the time in the world. And he did, more or less. Nobody was getting through the beefed up security team tonight, but it was only a matter of time before Dean got a second wind. Seth stepped aside slightly, awaiting orders.

Hunter patted him on the shoulder.

"Alright, Seth," he said, smiling affably, "I'll take it from here."

With distinct undertones of 'before you get a chance to screw things up again.' For once, Seth didn't mind being told to run along, now. He knew he didn't wanna watch this. He didn't even look back.

That is, until he got halfway up the ramp and the lights suddenly cut out.

Shit. Seth braced himself, ready for an attack to come from any angle, unable to hear anything over the startled outcry from the crowd. But his eyes didn't even get a chance to adjust before the lights were back, and the confused buzzing turned to cheers.

Seth's gaze snapped up the ramp to the stage. Nobody there. Then what-?

Oh, no…

When he whirled back to face the ring, there was Carly, standing right between Hunter and Dean. No, no, no, no, this was bad. Seth was too far away to hear anything they were saying to each other, but he could see Hunter tense up as his grip tightened on the sledgehammer, and the way Carly planted herself and refused to budge.

The only thing in Seth's mind was a sound like tires squealing as he raced to think of something – anything – he could do to intervene before something-

And then Carly lifted her chin defiantly, and Hunter shook his head, and Seth couldn't stop himself from darting forward a few steps, but it was too late.

Two hits, and Carly dropped like a stone.

Holy shit. Just… holy shit.

The stunned silence filled that the arena made a few seconds drag on for hours. The onlookers didn't seem to know what to do. There was no booing, not outrage, just a low worried rumble. Then a shout went up, and somebody went flying past Seth and into the ring, knocking Hunter off his feet like a ballistic missile.

Roman. Thank God.

The hammer went flying out of reach, and even if it hadn't, Roman already had the upper hand. But somehow, Seth couldn't bring himself to look anywhere but Dean's face, and his horrified expression as he dragged himself over to Carly. Carly, who hadn't moved since she hit the ground.

Dean reached out to touch her shoulder, but pulled away almost instantly, like he expected to be burned. With growing panic in his eyes, he reached for her shoulder again, that time giving it a little shake. Still nothing. What with the crowd egging Roman on as he tore into Hunter, Seth couldn't hear Dean, but he was close enough to read his lips:

"Carly? Carly, please… No, no, no, you gotta wake up. Come on, you have to. You- Don't do this to me. Please, Carly, stay with me. Stay with me. Oh God, I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry…"

Seth wasn't sure exactly how that stampede officials managed to rush by him without him noticing. Maybe because he couldn't tear his eyes away from Dean and… and Carly.

She wasn't bleeding, so that was a good sign. Or… was it a good sign? Seth honestly couldn't tell. At this point he was just grasping at straws, desperate to find any shred of hope and cling to it like grim death.

Oh God… Bad choice in metaphors.

It took six officials to drag Roman off of Hunter and hold him back. A few security personnel hurried down the ramp past Seth.

"Forget Reigns!" Seth ordered, "Just get Hunter out of there!"

For whatever reason, they actually listened to him. Roman was already losing interest in beating Hunter to a pulp. He shook off the officials and turned his back on the security guys helping their dazed boss out of the ring. That threat was neutralized. Seth knew how Roman's thought process worked; deal with the danger first, then it was straight back into "everybody's big brother" mode.

The medics had made it to the ring by then, and were already huddled around Carly. One, however, made the mistake of trying to tend to Dean. That one got shoved away with a snarl and orders to keep his hands off Dean and go back to helping Carly.

Roman stepped in then, nearly getting earning himself a shove in the process, and pulled Dean away. Roman was steady, or at least he looked steady. Dean was still wild-eyed and agitated. It looked like Roman was trying to talk him down, but all Dean could do was repeat the words 'It's all my fault.'

The officials were helping Hunter up the ramp by that point. Seth had just enough presence of mind to make a show of ushering them along and ordering them to get Hunter to the Authority's office and send one of the trainers to check him out.

The group of them nearly got bowled over by a couple paramedics running a gurney down to ringside. Carly was… God, she still hadn't moved. Seth was suddenly gripped with panic. She hadn't moved. What if she…? No, no the medics and trainers were too calm for that. They'd be moving a lot faster if Carly was… He still couldn't bring himself to think the word.

The broadcast was over. Seth wasn't sure when they'd went off the air, or how much had made it on TV, but everybody watching at home had seen enough. And as far as the live audience went, they all seemed to be in shock. A few people here and there leaned over the barricade, trying to catch the attention of the medics or officials or any other employee that'd listen, asking if Carly was gonna be alright. Even the people up in the nosebleed section didn't seem to know if they should leave or not.

But the worst by far was the kids. Most of the parents tried to usher them out as quickly as possible, probably hoping like hell their children hadn't just seen something truly awful. But it was hard for them to shepherd their families out through the crush of people, and Seth kept hearing them, one after another, their high-pitched voices cutting through the rest of the noise, asking what'd happened, why did they have to leave now, was she okay.

And that's when Seth felt his poker face slip for just an instant, and he actually physically shuddered. He would've given anything not to have to go back to the Authority right then. He would've gladly gone literally anywhere else in the world. But that wasn't an option.

It took an absurd amount of effort just to turn away, walk up the ramp, and follow his feet to the Authority's office. He didn't keep his eyes down, but he didn't exactly make eye contact with anyone along the way, either. It wasn't hate he felt radiating off the people he passed, but horror. Some of them legitimately drew back, like Seth was carrying some plague and they didn't want to get contaminated.

In the Authority's office, Stephanie was thoroughly engrossed in fussing over Hunter and haranguing the poor medic that was treating him.

For a second, Seth felt a weird sense of solidarity with Randy Orton, who looked like he didn't want to be stuck there any more than Seth did. The difference being that Randy wanted out because he couldn't even pretend to care anymore. After a few unsuccessful attempts at getting Hunter to book his promised title match, he seemed to lose patience with the whole business. The Authority vs the Shield, McMahon family drama – he hadn't signed on for any of that.

Paige was absent as well, unsurprisingly. She was the attack dog, not an advisor. As long as her collusion with the Authority was rewarded with better pay and a protected title reign, both parties were happy with it. Kane was there, though, just sorta taking up space. Seth still wasn't sure why Hunter and Stephanie liked having him around.

Either way, nobody paid much attention to Seth when he first entered the room. That was fine by him. He really wasn't up to fluffing their collective ego while they cursed Reigns and his interference, and patted themselves on the back for getting rid of a certain thorn in their side.

Hunter was sporting a busted lip and the beginnings of one hell of a black eye, courtesy of Roman's fists. The sight gave Seth a sense of bitter satisfaction, and a surprising bit of jealousy. But if he wasn't able to deal out justice anymore, at least Roman still could.

Hunter glanced in Seth's direction, but Seth was spared from having to speak by a hesitant rap on the door. It was one of the producers – a newer, younger guy, who didn't have enough seniority to avoid being the soon-to-be-shot messenger to the Authority.

"We just thought you'd like to know," he said in a halting, nervous tone that brought up all kinds of painful memories for Seth, "Carly Caden's being taken to the hospital. Dean Ambrose, too."

"What did the trainers say?" asked Stephanie.

"Just that she'd regained consciousness briefly, but they're concerned it might be more serious than a concussion."

Seth's stomach dropped again.

"Hmm, I see," said Hunter, carelessly enough that it was all Seth could do not to finish what Roman started, "Keep us posted, then. In the meantime, I don't see any reason for us to stick around here. We'll reconvene back at the hotel, Seth."

Seth nodded. As he went off to gather up his things, he kept up the trend of not making eye contact with anyone he encountered. Too risky. He couldn't let anybody see that this'd shaken him.

Seth rounded the corner, nearly running smack into someone in the process. A cold wave of dread washed over him as he realized who it was. Roman.

The big man was alone, two other bags slung over his shoulder in addition to his own. Even if Seth couldn't recognize their luggage in a heartbeat, he would've been able to guess who it belonged to.

He and Roman had both stopped dead in their tracks, and just sorta stayed there. Seth wasn't sure what to do. Say something? Hell no. There was nothing he could say at that point, and his throat felt like it was clenched in a vice, anyways. Keep going? That'd mean walking alongside Roman to the parking lot. He didn't think either of them wanted that. Run away? Probably not a bad idea. He couldn't blame Roman for wanting to beat the living hell out of him right now.

On some level, Seth almost wished he would.

But Roman didn't. He just looked Seth dead in the eyes, and said nothing. Seth would've gladly dropped dead on the spot just to escape that gaze. He didn't think he could ever explain what it felt like to have somebody look at you like that, like they could see exactly what you were made of, and they were disgusted by it.

"Are you proud of yourself?" Roman said coldly.

And without another word, without waiting for Seth to respond (not that Seth could've said anything at that point) he turned and marched off towards the parking lot.

Seth didn't follow. He couldn't bring himself to move.

His own voice rang in his head like some vengeful accusing harpy, over and over again:

My fault. My fault. All my fault.

And it was right.

xXx

Seth made his way to Hunter and Stephanie's hotel room on leaden limbs. He even considered taking the stairs just as a way of stalling, but he somehow couldn't find the energy. It was a long moment he spent standing outside their door, just sorta… he didn't even know what. Psyching himself up, maybe? Like he was waiting in the wings, steeling himself to play this stupid, loathsome role one more time. But he couldn't stand there forever. Taking a deep breath, and scrubbing his hands over his face, he stepped inside.

No Randy to take the attention off him this time. Seth just hoped this wouldn't take long. All he wanted to do was go back to his own room and drink until he couldn't feel anything anymore.

"It's just like you said, Seth," said Hunter, continuing whatever he and Stephanie'd been talking about, "Carly's luck was bound to run out."

That's right, he did say that. Seth managed a curt nod and a terse smile before tuning them out again. Carly got in over her head, put herself in a dangerous situation that she was too stupid to run away from, and by God she paid for it.

What a sick way to think of it, though. Putting the onus on her. There was only one person to blame for what'd happened, and that was the guy swinging the sledgehammer.

"But that does bring up an interesting point…"

Seth was suddenly very aware that Stephanie had locked her gaze on him.

"Why didn't you get involved after Reigns ran out there, Seth?" she asked.

Ah, shit.

"The referees were right on his tail, weren't they? That's their job," said Seth, "Besides, I didn't want to do anything to… to escalate the situation. Considering the circumstances."

Hunter's eyes narrowed.

"You wanna run that by me one more time?" he asked.

"I'm just trying to think about PR here," said Seth, holding up his hands, "We've gotta have a game plan for when.."

"When what, Seth?" Stephanie demanded.

"You know," Seth was hedging, "When your father gets involved."

Hunter and Stephanie shot each other a glance, and Seth could see the gears finally starting to turn. As much as they enjoyed seeing their enemies put in a hospital – and as much as Hunter enjoyed being the one to put them there – this was different. Vince couldn't really care less what they did or who they hurt when it came to the wrestlers. But this? This was his favorite pet saboteur who just got bashed in the skull. Did they seriously think there wouldn't be repercussions for that?

"I'm only saying that, regardless of anything else, she's still Vince McMahon's daughter," said Seth, "It's in our best interests to keep tabs on her, and at least know what condition she's in. I say we should send a representative over to the hospital to get the details."

"Y'know, he's not wrong, Steph," Hunter said quietly.

Stephanie hesitated a moment. Like all egomaniacs, she couldn't stand a good idea that she personally didn't like. By the next day, she'd convince herself it was her idea all along. Seth didn't much care, as long as she agreed to it.

"Right," she said finally, nodding, "The more information we have, the better we can keep on top of the situation."

And off she strutted to find some poor sap to do her dirty work.

Cutting the conversation short like that was just as well. Given the chance, Seth might not've been able to keep from volunteering to go to the hospital himself. That bizarre and maddening sense of isolation was creeping up his spine again. There he was, stuck in a stupid goddamn gilded cage of his own making, cut off from any contact with the rest of the roster, any information from anybody who might've seen something, or who knew something. Somebody had to.

But it wasn't like he could ask anyone, anyway, even if he had the chance. Who but Randy or Kane or Paige would so much as speak to him anymore? He had to know what was going on. He had to.

Part of his brain still rebelled at the utter wrongness of it. He tried to convince himself that he'd seen guys take worse hits and bounce right back. Happened all the time in the indies, right? Hell, look at the crazy shit Dean put himself through back in the day. He was fine, wasn't he?

But Carly wasn't a wrestler. She didn't even qualify as an athlete. She was a glorified secretary, for God's sake! Thick skull or not, she just wasn't physically tough enough to weather the kind of abuse a trained fighter put their body through under normal circumstances, let alone when facing a maniac with a sledgehammer.

It was getting late, and Hunter and Stephanie hadn't been much for conversation after Seth dropped a reality bomb on their good mood. Eventually, Hunter told Seth he didn't need to stay, that he should probably get some rest, that they'd keep him posted on any developments. Seth knew a "run along, now" when he heard it. It was all he could do to walk out of the room instead of bolting.

He couldn't go back to his room yet. He couldn't just sit there and wait. He couldn't sleep, couldn't help, couldn't do anything. Instead, he headed for the hotel's exercise room. He didn't care if he wasn't really dressed for it; he just got onto a treadmill, propped his phone up in the cup-holder, and ran. The freakin' hamster-wheel comparison was never so apt. Running and running and running, and not getting anywhere.

It seemed like every thirty seconds that he tapped the refresh button on the article. It was over an hour later that the page finally updated, and Seth tripped over his feet and nearly ate shit before he had the presence of mind to hit the treadmill's emergency stop.

Panting, wiping perspiration from his face onto his shirt, Seth stepped down to the floor and scrolled down the screen, skimming past the bits he'd already read.

"… at which point she was taken to a local medical facility. The extent of her injuries is currently unknown. WWE employees attempted to get an update on her condition, but were turned away by hospital staff, who cited concerns for their patient's safety if any information was released.

UPDATE: has learned that Roman Reigns was present at the hospital. He reportedly stated that Carly would be transferred elsewhere for treatment, and is quoted as saying "If she doesn't recover from this, there'll be hell to pay," but refused to comment further."

xXx

Seth shoved the door to his hotel room open, not caring that it slammed behind him, and let the momentum carry him across the room. He yanked the sliding door aside and practically spilled out onto the little balcony, only stopping when he collided with the railing two steps later. He needed some air, some space, something.

Late as it was, the night was still warm and breezy. Seth tightened his grip on the railing in an effort to steady himself and tilted his head back. The night sky was nothing more than a muddled haze of light where there should be darkness and darkness where there should be light. Still, an indistinct pattern behind it all caught Seth's notice. A constellation. Cassiopeia.

Seth was suddenly confronted with the very real possibility that he would never see Carly again. He shivered, finding himself covered in a cold sweat. There was no one to pretend for up here in this empty space, above and distant from anyone and anything that mattered.

God…

God damn it.

He slumped against the door, letting his knees give out until he was sitting on the ground, his head in his hands. He couldn't get their faces out of his mind. All those repeated scenes that happened hundreds and hundreds of times crowded in on his thoughts. Every day spent training at the Performance Center with Dean and Roman, all the way back to FCW. Every city, every match, every late night, every day on the road – moments that could've happened anywhere, that did happen everywhere.

And the way Carly was slowly added to them all – off to the side working on her laptop while they trained, taking a turn driving the rental car, working out details with the producers backstage – until it was strange to think that she hadn't always been there. Boring breakfasts spent alone became a highlight of his day: conversing with somebody who could think on the same wavelength as him, while Roman woke himself up with a third cup of coffee and Dean dozed off again with his head on the table.

Those years with the Shield had been the happiest of Seth's life, and now…

It gutted him to think that it was all gone for good, that he was homesick for something that didn't exist anymore and never would again. And it was all because of him.

He couldn't do it anymore. He couldn't. Hunter just crossed a line there was no going back from. Hell, Seth was pretty damn sure Hunter didn't want to go back. If that's what he was willing to do to Carly? It was only a matter of time before people like Dolph, and Natalya, and Naomi met the same fate.

He could've stopped it. He could've done something. Too late now. Too late for Carly, whatever that meant. Seth couldn't bear to consider the extremes. The only thing he knew was that he wasn't gonna let that happen to anyone else.

He had no failsafe, no backup, no nothing – but he had to scuttle his own plan. He'd be damned if he'd be complicit in any more of the Authority's horrible, sadistic shit.

Seth took a deep breath and looked back up. His gaze searched the sky for that constellation again, his throat tightening painfully. He had to pull himself together. He had to focus. It might be the last thing he ever did in that godforsaken company. If he was going down, then he was gonna bring down hell on the Authority on the way.

He owed it to them – to the guys he used to call his brothers, and to a friend he might never see again.

xXx

That weekend was the longest of Seth's life. There was no news of Carly, or Dean, since they left the arena Friday night. Some fan tweeted about Roman going to a hotel and picking up Carly's things, but that was just hearsay. The only other word was a rumor that trickled through about Carly's mother allegedly calling up Vince and reading him the riot act. If Mother Caden's anger was even half as fierce as her daughter's, Seth was a little surprised Vince survived.

But he tried not to think about Carly too much, except to think that he'd let her break a dozen kendo sticks over his back if it meant seeing her alive and well again. Seth wasn't the kinda guy to bargain with a higher power, but… Well, if God was listening, the offer was out there.

Come Monday, there still wasn't any news, good or bad. Seth tried to convince himself that no news was good news. He really did. But Dean and Roman weren't at the broadcast, with Roman going so far as to tweet an official statement that they wouldn't be coming. After what'd happened, Seth didn't believe there was a power on earth that could stop them from getting their revenge, unless…

Unless things were dire enough that they weren't willing to leave Carly for even one day.

The thought twisted Seth's stomach into knots, and he tried to force it from his mind. He just had to get through that night. Just one more night and then at least he wouldn't have to pretend anymore. But in the meantime, he was gonna give the best performance of his career.

Regardless of the unrest that had to be hitting a boiling point in the locker rooms, the Authority's office was much the same as always: Paige totally engrossed in something on her phone and lounging with her feet up on a table, Kane standing around looking mildly unsettling, Randy off to the side perfecting his sullen scowl, Hunter and Stephanie talking Business™, and Seth nearby hanging on their every word like a good little Sith apprentice. But the second there was a break in the conversation, Seth made his move.

"Say, Hunter," he began, quietly enough to make it seem like he wanted a private word with the Game, but just loudly enough that he was sure the others would overhear, "Not something that we gotta discuss now, but I just wanted to put a bug in your ear, if I could."

Hunter looked up, and as far as Seth could tell he was sincerely paying attention, not just humoring him. So far, so good. He hadn't been demoted out of the Authority's counsel yet.

"Alright, I'm listening," said Hunter.

"I was just thinking it'd be a good idea to start planning when to use this," said Seth, patting the briefcase, "So we can bring the WWE World Heavyweight Championship back to the Authority where it belongs."

Seth kept a careful eye on Hunter's body language for any signs of annoyance or dismissal, but all he got was an approving nod. Since there'd been no indication that they'd have to worry about the wrath of Vince, Hunter and Stephanie'd started to relax again. Why wouldn't they? They'd been able to get away with murder once. Seth would've bet anything they were eager to do it again.

"You're absolutely right, Seth," he said, "That's what we brought you on for in the first place. And now that we've put the fear of god into those who, well, haven't exactly been team players, it's time we started looking forward."

"I agree," said Stephanie, "John Cena's not exactly the "face that runs the place" anymore. We've already got a record breaker as our Diva's champion. I think this is the perfect time to put a fresh face with the World Heavyweight Championship, too."

Out of the corner of his eye, Seth could see Randy's jaw tighten. Good.

Then the conversation drifted to other matters – business and the like – and before long most of the group had dispersed. Hunter and Stephanie went off to make some final preshow checks, and Paige had to get ready for a match that night, and Kane… must've left at some point, too.

And then there were two.

Seth could feel Randy watching him. By then, he'd grown to resent Seth just as much as the rest of the roster did. So much the better, for Seth's purposes. But silent glowering aside, Randy didn't seem to be making any moves. Time to poke the bear a little harder.

As if in response to some train of thought, Seth let out a chuckle and patted the briefcase. When he looked up again, Randy was looming over him. Geez, confrontation outta nowhere. Seth jumped like he'd been startled.

"Look," Randy practically growled, "I don't care whose pet you are, or how good you think you are. You try to take my place in line for that title, and you're gonna pay for it. Understood?"

"Whoa, hey." Seth furrowed his brows in annoyance, leaning away from Randy a little, "I know you don't like me, and I don't really like you either. But you know what? I actually respect you. Just remember that there's somebody who's pulled the rug out from under you before, and it's not me, okay?"

Seth didn't flinch as Randy stared him dead in the eyes. At that point, Randy'd be looking for some sign that he was still the Authority's top guy, that regardless of whatever new blood they brought in and regardless of their collective ego, they'd have no choice but to recognize that he was the best man on the roster. No such luck.

It didn't matter how buddy-buddy he'd been with Hunter recently. Randy wasn't the type to forgive and forget, Seth could tell. And it was safe to assume Hunter hadn't forgotten some of the shit Randy pulled, either. It wouldn't take much to put them at odds with each other again. Hell, Randy had gotten halfway there on his own. All Seth had to do was give the situation a little nudge.

"Don't think I don't know what you're trying to do," said Randy.

"Oh, what?" Seth scoffed, "I'm not saying anything you haven't already thought about. And I don't really care if you're with the Authority or not. I already know where I stand with them, and I know it doesn't depend on you at all. Ultimately, your problem isn't with me and you know it. I'm just wondering if the Viper Randy Orton is gonna do anything about it."

It was a dangerous gamble, Seth knew that. He'd gotten along well so far by playing nice with the rest of the Authority's inner circle. If it got back to Hunter and Stephanie that he was trying to start something… No, Randy wasn't about to go tattle on him. The idea of using that kind of tactic to get back into Hunter's good graces wasn't his style at all. Unless Seth really missed his guess, Randy would take a far more direct approach. If the Authority had no more use for the Apex Predator, then he had no more use for the Authority either.

After a moment, the corner of Randy's mouth curled upwards in an unsettling sort of smile. Without another word, he turned and strode out of the room. A threat? Probably. Seth got the feeling it wasn't directed at him, though. Perfect. Now all he had to do was wait for the inevitable implosion.

xXx

Hunter seemed unfazed by the intensity of the crowd's renewed hatred. And true, there was a sense of futility in it. There wasn't anything they could really do about it, was there? Just chant "You suck!" at him, or something. Vince was the only one Hunter was actually concerned about, and as far as he went, well…

Everybody knew Vince McMahon wasn't exactly "father of the year" material, for a whole boatload of reasons. But to just let something like this happen and do nothing? Honestly, Seth was shocked. And straight-up disgusted.

He caught sight of more than a few signs with variations of "Where is Carly?" written on them.

It was just him, Randy, Stephanie and Hunter heading out this time. Seth got the feeling that he and Randy were there not just because they were the Authority's top competitors, but also doing double duty as bodyguards in case any of the Shield's allies tried anything. Honestly, Seth was a little surprised nobody had tried anything yet.

Maybe it'd finally worked. Maybe this'd been enough to scare the rebels into keeping their heads down. Hunter clearly thought so. He looked as smug as ever. But Seth wasn't so sure. The shock was bound to wear off sooner or later, wasn't it? Now that they knew what they were up against, now that they knew exactly how low the Authority was willing to stoop… Everybody always said in WWE, turnabout is fair play. And if the Rebel Alliance decided to adopt that strategy, things were gonna get very bad, very fast.

But for the moment, all Seth had to do was keep up the act. He went for a casually unconcerned attitude. After all, egotistical sadist extraordinaire Seth Rollins wouldn't give a single solitary damn that his former manager was probably critically injured.

And that evening the part of Batista was being played by Randy Orton, who looked as pissed off and straight-up dunyon rings as Dave had been the night he walked out.

A fresh wave of booing picked up the second Hunter started to raise the microphone. He chuckled to himself, nonchalantly twirling the mic as he waited it out.

"Look, let's just cut to the chase, shall we?" Hunter said once he could get a word in edgewise, "This is what you're all fired up about, right?"

Hunter gestured at the TitanTron, and Seth's grip on the briefcase went white-knuckled. He… he was gonna do it. He was actually gonna show a recap of what'd happened. Just when Seth thought he'd seen the worst of Hunter's next-level supervillain bullshit, the Game revealed he had new depths to sink to.

Honestly, Seth had made a conscious effort not to watch this again. But there it was on the big screen – inescapable. It wasn't like he didn't know what was gonna happen. There was Hunter, sledgehammer in hand, advancing on Dean Ambrose. Then a blackout, a moment of confusion, Carly materializing with the arena lights.

The cinematography of it made the contrast even more dramatic than Seth remembered. Carly – with that stupid defiant lift of her chin – looked so out of place facing down the hulking, menacing King of Kings.

Then the tense altercation, inaudible to the microphones, that nonetheless clearly ended with Carly daring Hunter to do his worst. And Hunter obliged. The first blow doubled Carly over, and for the briefest instant the shot shifted to Seth's stunned face.

In the present, Seth felt faintly gut-punched himself. He didn't want to see himself like that. Like a bystander, complicit by inaction, doing nothing to stop what was gonna happen next.

When he swung the hammer that second time, Hunter's expression was, well… monstrous. Seth couldn't think of any other way to describe it. The sheer hostility of it. Remorseless. He didn't even hesitate. Just hauled back and…

Carly fell. The last shot was a low angle – Carly, motionless on the ground, Hunter in the foreground only visible from the knees down as he stood over her, and in the background Dean's horror-struck stare.

Seth was glad the camera crew was completely focused on Hunter, and he could go unnoticed in the background. That way nobody would notice that he'd broken out in a cold sweat. Shit. Just… shit.

"Now, I know what you're all gonna ask," said Hunter, continuing on in a mocking, high-pitched imitation of the fans, "'Where's Carly? Is Carly alright? Why haven't we heard anything about Carly?' That's what you want to know, isn't it?"

Hunter waited just long enough for the crowd to indicate that, yes, that was what they wanted.

"Well, that's too bad," he said, "Because I don't know. And frankly? I don't really care."

Predictably, that set the whole place off again. One could only imagine the scene backstage. Seth really thought he'd stop being surprised at how despicable Hunter could be, but no.

"Oh, what?" Hunter scoffed, "Some guys come down to this ring and refuse to wear kneepads. Am I gonna feel sorry for them when they inevitably wind up with kneecaps busted up worse than Hulk Hogan's by the time they're thirty? No! Because they know better. They know the dangers, and they ignore good advice. So forgive me if I'm not wringing my hands over some manager inserting herself where she doesn't belong and getting caught in the crossfire."

Seth might have had a grudging respect for Hunter's absurd ability to rationalize, but the crowd wasn't having it. It took nearly a full minute for them to quiet down enough for him to continue. Which gave Seth enough time to wonder if Vince would be willing to follow Hunter's lead on this.

Come to think of it, the almighty chairman hadn't lifted a finger to help Carly out so far, had he. At least not beyond the guaranteed job security. If he was still planning on using her as a weapon against Stephanie, why didn't he do something? Or maybe that was just it. Maybe Vince decided to cut his losses now that there was a chance Carly was, well, broken.

Seth had to fight down a visceral surge of nausea at the thought.

"Now that we've gotten that out of the way," Hunter continued, though the crowd clearly wasn't about to let this go, "We can move on to the present. Or, should I say, the future."

He gestured towards Seth, who pasted on a convincing smirk. Right. Back to the task at hand. As long as he played his cards right, nudged things in the proper direction, he'd be able to ensure that-

"Now wait just a damn minute, Hunter," Randy cut in.

Or maybe Randy had it covered on his own. Seth blinked in genuine surprise. Really? That was all it took to set him off? Geez, the guy must've been a lot closer to his boiling point than Seth anticipated.

Hunter had paused mid-gesture when Randy spoke up. Now, he let his hand drop to his side, fixing a not-at-all-convincingly pleasant expression on his face, and turned back to face him.

"I don't think this is the time or the place for this conversation, Randy," he said, an unmistakable note of warning in his tone.

"Well, that's too bad," said Randy, "Because I'm starting to think you plan on conveniently forgetting what you promised me, and I want some answers."

Hunter laughed, incredulous, and the audience (still not quite sure how the topic of conversation had changed so suddenly) lapsed into a confused silence.

"Those are some pretty bold words," he said, "But what exactly makes you think I owe you anything?"

"You promised me a title match," said Randy, "Since the Rumble, that's how things were supposed to go down. Since Wrestlemania, you promised me that. And since then? Nothing. I fought in your damn crusade against the Shield. I couldn't have cared less, but I figured, hey, once this is taken care of, then we'll be back on track. I've waited. I did your dirty work. You can't deny that I've been more than patient."

"Yes, you were," said Hunter, "And you did all that and more. But lest you forget, and start accusing me of going back on my word, I did give you your title match. At the Money in the Bank pay-per-view, I made you the first entrant into the WWE World Heavyweight Championship ladder match, and-"

"A ladder match?" Randy interrupted, "You have to be joking. You promised me a one on one match for that title. I am getting pretty goddamn sick and tired of waiting around, Hunter."

Hunter's jaw tightened, but Randy took a step closer, towering over him.

"You know what I think?" said Randy, "I think Dave was right. You never intended to let either of us get that title back. I don't know what your plan was then, but I'm pretty sure I know what it is now. You're gonna give it to your new little lapdog over there. Or…"

Randy's eyes narrowed.

"Or you're planning on taking it for yourself. Just like old times."

Stephanie's face suddenly flushed a little. There was a lot of unfinished business between the two (or three) of them, and a lot of Things Which Must Not Be Mentioned. If Randy was gonna call up those old ghosts, there was no telling what might happen. Under any other circumstances, Seth would've wished he had popcorn for this.

"So you wanna do this," said Hunter, his tone low and flat like a cold front through the arena, "You wanna do this now, Randy?"

"Yeah, I'm thinking I do."

Randy raised his chin, and Hunter glowered up at him.

"Fine," said Hunter, "You're so desperate to prove yourself, you'll get your chance tonight. But let me remind you, Randy, you're not the Legend Killer anymore."

There was silence for a moment.

"We'll see about that," said Randy finally.

He turned on his heel and strode up the ramp.

xXx

It was probably a little telling, the fact that Hunter apparently brought his gear along to every show, even though he was technically employed in a corporate capacity alone. But then again, he brought the damn sledgehammer wherever he went, so why the hell not his gear?

Seth'd been mildly shocked by the whole business and generically supportive of Hunter's decisions, blah blah blah, all the rest. It was time to show a little initiative, a little concern for the bigger picture and the Authority's stake in it all. While Hunter was finishing taping up his fists, and Stephanie was off shuffling the card with the producers, Seth sidled over to the boss.

"Hunter, are you sure about this?" Seth lowered his voice, eying him worriedly, "I mean, Randy Orton is your top guy. He's a valuable-"

"Randy Orton is a liability," Hunter interrupted, "I don't ask for much. Just loyalty and a little understanding, and in return I'm more than willing to give the benefits that come from being part of the Authority. But Randy… Well, he's made his position very clear. And I'm going to make it clear that we don't need him anymore."

Sometimes, Seth really wondered how Hunter managed to dodge cognitive dissonance and reconcile his sadistic streak with his self-perception as a firm but benevolent king. But for the moment, he just nodded along, listening intently like a good little apprentice would. He just need to keep Hunter convinced that he was on his side. Just for a little while longer.

"Now," said Hunter, "Here's what's going to happen."

xXx

Really, Seth never doubted which way the match would end. Randy had something to prove, but the security of Hunter's crown was at stake. There were no depths he wouldn't sink to, including physically preventing the ref from calling for the bell after he spent too long tossing Randy around outside the ring. And when the poor dumb sap insisted on trying to end the match with a count-out ruling, he got floored by a short-arm clothesline for his troubles. Stephanie was waiting in the wings to send good old Charles Robinson out as a replacement referee to call the match in Hunter's favor. And if that wasn't enough, Kane and Paige were on standby to "help" if necessary. It wasn't, ultimately. (Kane seemed disappointed. Paige was indifferent.) In any case, Hunter put Randy down for a three count, and Seth was ready to play his part.

Seth sauntered down to the ring, equal parts smug and eager. Who wouldn't be? After all, Hunter had chosen him to help finish off the so-called Legend Killer and, by extension, take his place.

At the sight of Seth standing over him, brandishing a chair, Randy spat and muttered something that wasn't at all PG. He knew Seth'd been playing him. He just didn't care. He intended to go down fighting. It almost seemed kinda noble. Or it would've, if Seth didn't know what a sick bastard he was. Seth hoped it had really hurt when Carly bit him on the arm. Also, he hoped this hurt worse.

Seth brought the chair crashing down. The metallic bang of steel against flesh, the way it reverberated through his hands all the way up his arms – it was more than enough to bring up hellish memories. But he wasn't going to tune out this time. He wanted to experience every second of this, and he wanted to enjoy it. That sounded a little demented, even in his own mind. But hey, the revenge business was no place for scruples.

Maybe somebody watching at home would recognize that Seth seemed to be enacting a shot-for-shot remake of Randy's beatdown of Roman. Seth knew for a fact there was one person who would've figured it out instantly. If there was any good in this piece of shit world, she was watching. She knew. And she was pointing it out to a pair of guys he used to call his brothers. And maybe, just maybe, they were starting to believe that Seth wasn't the lost cause he appeared to be.

At least, that's what Seth convinced himself to focus on, as he rained down shot after shot on the already incapacitated Randy Orton.

The now mangled chair still loosely grasped in one hand, Seth looked up to Hunter for approval. Like a dog. Like a goddamn lapdog. He half expected Hunter to pat him on the head. But what he got was a smirk and a dismissing nod. Hunter was satisfied that his apprentice had fallen in line as the obedient little sadist he'd always wanted, and now he was gonna take the opportunity to gloat.

Hunter moved towards Randy, and Seth - to get out of his way - stepped past him.

Maybe there was that split second. Maybe somebody knew.

As soon as Hunter's back was to him, Seth whirled around and landed a flattening blow with the chair.

Seth didn't hesitate, didn't listen to the crowd's reaction, didn't stop for a dramatic pause. He just brought the chair crashing down on Hunter again and again and again, like killing a wasp with a flyswatter. Hit it until you think the bastard's dead, then hit it a dozen more times for good measure.

Even in the moment, Seth couldn't help but be a little self-aware. This didn't look like some great triumph, some valiant, heroic battle. It was an ugly scene. A beating. Fueled by every ugly emotion in his entire being. His disgust, his self-loathing, hatred, horror, regret, futility, and rage – he used every shred of it, and channeled it all into this last vicious assault. He didn't care what he looked like. He didn't care. The only thing that mattered was making Hunter pay.

But security was gonna be out there any second. No time to do any more. Seth flung the chair aside, panting, and glared down at the so-called King of Kings writhing in pain at his feet. No time, but just enough for this. Seth leaned in, raising his voice to be heard over the chaos in the stands:

"That's for the Shield, you son of a bitch!"

Seth snagged the briefcase as he slid out of the ring, vaulted over the barricade, and bolted down the aisle and out of the arena, not slowing his pace a fraction of a step until he dove into the waiting Uber car and ordered the baffled driver to step on it. Seth'd already written off his duffle bag as a loss, and that stupid suit could rot for all he cared. His wallet and room key were safely stowed in the briefcase. His luggage was already packed and waiting just inside the door of his hotel room, and as soon as he threw on some street clothes he was gonna get into his rental and get the hell outta dodge.

It was too little, and it was far too late. But what else could he have done? If it came to that, it seemed like falling on his own sword was a better thing to do than stay hiding, and become the sadistic traitor he'd pretended to be. Even if he couldn't change what happened because of him, even if all he'd accomplished was bringing hell down on himself, it'd have to be enough. He'd never forgive himself, that much he knew. But he was finally Seth Rollins again.

xXx

With a click of the mute button, an uneasy silence fell over Roman's living room, and USA Network's scheduled programming continued unheeded.

"So," said Carly, her voice fainter than she'd intended.

"So now we know," Roman finished.

"Maybe," Dean corrected them.

He shifted position restlessly on the couch. Carly pursed her lips, and silence crept in again. Dean wasn't wrong. They didn't know anything for sure, at least not yet. It seemed like Seth had proved her right. Beating the living daylights out of Randy Orton in a very "exact words" sort of way, it couldn't be anything but payback for what Orton did to Roman, could it? And then turning on Triple H, and saying it was all in the Shield's name. Everything fit. But then again…

Could they trust it? Could they trust him? Carly wasn't certain anymore.

(Note: Holy cannoli, we are finally out of Seth's POV! And we've made it to the "present," which means we're in the home stretch, kids! As always, thank you to all the lovely people who leave reviews, and thank to everyone who's reading. -M)