((Ladies and gentlemen welcome to the very first upload of the newest chapter in the Shield's story, Release The Hounds! This is the sequel to My Little Friend. It's been absolutely incredible how much support I've received. All of your comments have really inspired me to do well and to carry on the story. The AU world that the story takes place in is all of my own creation and it's been fantastic to see how well people have responded to my versions of our well known and well loved characters. For those who have just stumbled upon this story, I recommend that you go back and read My Little Friend, otherwise much of this chapter will not make sense to you. For all those reading this, new and old, welcome. I hope you enjoy this newest part of the Dog Soldiers Arc! Please, as always let me know what you think!))

((If you're new to the Dog Soldiers Arc, you can find the first part, My Little Friend here : s/11605179/1/Release-The-Hounds))

SEPTEMBER 17 || BUCHANAN North Capitol

A pitcher of blood poured along the horizon and rallied the dawn after the coldest of desert nights. Who would have thought that a boiled day could give to such frozen nights? And yet at the heart, the bodies below ground beat as one. They laid out together, arms clutched round one another for warmth. There had been initial objections, quickly cut down by experience and necessary comparisons to the emperor penguins in Antarctic. Though none had ever seen such beasts and did not know of their actual existence, those with some educated knowledge had enough in their skulls to cut down argument and forced upon them all warmth induced from group hugging. Needless to say, it wasn't popular.

But there – the sunrise.

They stood together, watched as it bled out into the sky, bleeding it pink and gold, mottled orange and red. There were not words that could be said, because even though the feeling seemed mutual, they knew that within time, they would become separated once again, and anything that was inside of them, could end in a gun shot. Wounds had already begun to heal and soon they would all be the soldiers they once were, rather than the broken men who had arrived in fragments in the burned out shanty of Buchanan. The pain was too real and she could feel it in the way he held her hand. His fingers held on, squeezed too tight, like he was too afraid to let go of her, in case she faded away with the last of the night. But she would linger, and she would travel with them until the end, because she knew, she knew inside and out, that her end would be with them. Whether she lived or died didn't seem to matter, survival a mere accessory to what had to be achieved. She had been dragged along on this thrill ride, had her lungs filled with adrenaline and yet nothing had come, other than the brief happiness of a small group of humans.

She saw that sun, reflected against his perfect face and fixed upon him, tried to capture the still frame in her mind, so that when he inevitably left her behind, she could remember him, caught in this static memory. She could have cried and it wouldn't have changed a single thing. She'd not let a single tear loose since he'd found her, they'd found them, brothers united...but every minute that passed threatened to tear the salt loose from her eyes. Renee Young was but a human woman, and then and there, she felt as if she were bonded to a god.

Roman saw himself as nothing more than flesh and blood – and that was what he was. But she'd elevated him to more than a man.

'Will you take the throne Roman? When the Game is gone?' she almost had to know the answer, as if whatever he decided would become their outcome. She'd learned from the second she'd walked into the boys' lives that nothing was written in stone. Everything was tangible, and the decisions of the many molded the futures of them all. But that was fine with her. She could live a life uncontrolled because it was far more exciting than delivering steak to tables of disinterested customers on rainy nights in Mama's. She still had that yellow dress stowed away somewhere – hadn't the heart to leave it behind when they'd escaped her home and decided to head toward Buchanan.

She almost felt stupid for how she'd phrased it: throne, like it was some medieval battle they were about to fight. Hunter Hearst Helmsley had ruled over Kennedy, its fellow towns and cities, the whole state for so damn long it was hard not to see him as anything more or less than a tyrant on a crooked throne with a crooked crown. But she knew so little of it all; relied on the stories she was told to shape her opinion. She'd been bred for war in the few days she'd known the Shield, simply because of the words they'd said, and the condition they'd found her in.

In the past few days and nights, she'd worked magic fingers over the bodies of Roman Reigns and Dean Ambrose. She'd been careful with the first, and cradled the latter, as his tears of rage over the death of Mick Foley threatened to tear him apart. Of them all, Dean had lost the most. A woman who had loved him had suffered death at the hands of a maniac, he'd lost pieces of his mind, body and soul to a cult leader, and now, an ally had been plucked from the world at the hands of a viper, who'd been trusted with all their lives. Her life had been so marvelously simple and dull before all of this had begun.

It had been more than a week before she'd met Roman Reigns.

She looked to him now, with his long, matted hair she'd tried to comb through with her fingers, his scarred and clandestine features – too bold, too beautiful to be touched by any other than the few he seemed to trust. He could have been a Spartan, but was far too stoic. He could have been a warrior, but his conscience seemed too strong. Through and through, Roman Reigns was little more than a man. A man loved by his brothers, and by her brittle heart. Renee could neither confirm or deny her feelings to him, her tongue failed each time she tried, too afraid of dismissal, too dumb and stupid to even pick the words.

'Someone will have to,' he muttered in answer. She knew he didn't want it. You could see it, hear it, and feel it. Roman was a mercenary, a citizen soldier, who had been paid and who had paid heavily for sins he didn't want to relive. She understood it, but found it difficult to conceive. She'd seen the Shield at their worst and best, but hadn't known their days as the villains of the story. The living torture they marched through with burned feet and buckled backs was ash off her back, but scolded into their empty eyes.

Renee squeezed his hand tightly with both of hers, 'You don't have to Roman. There are others...they could do it. You could be free from the responsibility, you and Seth and Dean could run away, you could do what you wanted...be free men.'

'What a dream that could be,' he almost laughed, and gave her the benefit of a glance. His other hand moved up, damaged, but almost healed, touched her face, ran down to her chin and tilted it. 'I have not dreamed for years Renee.'

She shook her head, and his fingers, away. 'Everyone dreams Roman, even when they don't close their eyes. Your dreams might just be darker than everyone elses.'

'Full of murder and lies and pain and fear?'

'Well when you put it that way they don't sound like dreams at all. No wonder you have the sweats Rome, what goes on in your head sounds terrifying.'

A dark laugh, 'You should see what goes on inside Dean's.'

Dean Ambrose, a lunatic self-diagnosed as sane with a generous sprinkling of mania. He was the sweetest, most sugary of her three boys, a little brother in an older body. He came to her for motherly embraces and the last few crumbs of the cookies she'd baked weeks before. He loved how she stroked his head, adored how she took the piss, kissed her nails one by one and declared her the last of the fallen stars and a true angel, because he'd never seen anyone shine so bright. He could have won her over if he'd tried those lines before that fateful night in the diner. She remembered every single second in vivid Technicolor. If she thought hard, she could recall the very moment she fell in love with Roman Reigns.

'Roman?'

'Renee?'

'Will you kiss me?'

She'd grown bold. He wanted to, she could see it in those ember eyes, but he resisted. He knew that the moment he gave in to the passions they both felt burning, there was no going back. She'd follow him to hell and back anyway, but if he took her, body and soul, she'd fight until she was naught but a pair of hands and a few strands of hair. 'Please?'

He drew closer, his mouth, those lips blisteringly close –

'Morning ladies, I hope I'm not interrupting anything.'

She was pretty sure, that if the Shield had their way, Dolph Ziggler would have been strung up by his toes in the middle of the Buchanan sun. He'd proved little more than trouble since he'd joined their group back at her small home in Adams. Sure, he'd saved her skin (and that appeared to have earned him enough of a reprieve to be spared punishment for nearly getting them killed), but he seemed to distrust everyone in their company, save for herself and Brie. But right then and there? She felt the irrational urge to kill the blond bastard.

The hide he emerged from was an underground burrow created by their hosts, the bizarre Rhodes brothers. They were nowhere to be seen. Their habit of scouring their territory in the early morning sun, as if they might uncover some new life, was one of hope to Renee. They always upheld that if they had survived so long, scarred and half blind, then the chances were in the favor of some other. Dolph was a curious looking human in his own right, with curled, shoulder length blond hair, he had a penchant for denim and leather, and looked nothing like the freedom fighter he claimed to be. When it had all begun, her hair had been a little more like his, but now? Thanks to the Bella twins, her beautiful hair had been reduced to a boyish crew cut. She liked it now, and Brie had won her way into their good books. She ran her fingers through the bristles in frustration as Dolph came closer.

'You pick your moments Ziggler,' she muttered.

He almost looked pleased at his interference, and she wouldn't have put it past him that it was done entirely on purpose. 'Brie requested I check on you.'

'Did she now?' highly unlikely. Brie seemed to have been campaigning for Renee's sexual liberation ever since they'd met. From trying to talk her into having sex with Seth, to now prompting her every single second Roman seemed to be alone. It made her heart judder, just the thought. What she felt seemed so strong, the desire in her heart, gut and loins was enough to set her bones on fire just being near him. She couldn't explain it, didn't know if she wanted to. But the second Roman had shuffled into her life, soaked wet from the storm, raw with violence and hell of life on the run...he'd never left her thoughts. Even in the life or death moments, she'd thought of him. He squeezed her hand gently. A man of few words, she'd learned quickly to translate his simple gestures and actions for the hours of language he wanted to communicate. Wide-eyed and innocent, she lived for the seconds he dedicated to her. Pathetic? Perhaps – she had a feeling Dolph saw it that way.

'Indeed. You look to be safe enough. Do I need to intervene? Has he been inappropriately touching you? Do I need to inform the Renee Young Defense League that a certain Mr Reigns has dark, sexual intentions?'

'Any he has, Ziggler, are not your interest, and if you savor breathing, you'll retreat your crooked nose back into the hole you crawled from.' Roman didn't raise his voice. He didn't need to. With a glare and that strange duck like pout he'd mastered, Dolph did as was suggested to him. As soon as he was gone, Roman gave Renee a small smile, it was off-center, a turn of the corner of his mouth, but it was there. After a second of trying it out, he switched to the other side of his lip. Facial movement had proved difficult for him as of late, his encounter with the Beast Brock Lesnar had broken his body more than they could actually see. One of Lesnar's blows seemed to have damaged some of Roman's facial nerves. But he dealt, he didn't complain, just tried everything out, practiced each expression until it became second nature once again – smiling was proving difficult, but determined, he seemed to gift them to her every time he could.

'Love birds!'

A new, beloved nuisance; Dean's head popped up from the same shelter Ziggler had disappeared in to. He emerged half naked, an old pair of black boxers all that protected his milk bottle white skin from the elements. All Dean had ever known was the underground and the dark, wet streets of Kennedy. He couldn't quite deal with the Buchanan heat, but was infatuated with the sun, and had already proposed to it, at length, several times. He was still awaiting an answer. His love for the sun was only matched by that of his brothers, and of the stars.

She'd seen him, standing out in the middle of the night for hours, staring up at the starry sky, fascinated, eyes wet and body cold. AJ Lee was buried under a patch of starlight – the woman who'd tamed the wild Dean Ambrose, who'd loved him in ways no one could ever understand. They'd all lost things along the way but her sympathies were with the devil in Dean's eyes and heart and twisted little mind.

'Missing some clothes Dean?'

'Need new ones,' he grunted in response. The torn scrubs he'd come to them in were beyond repair and beyond help. Unless God had a seamstress handy, he most definitely needed something else. For the few days before, he'd been walking around in one of Renee's old jumper dresses which only just reached his knees. Too hot for him though, naked seemed the way to go. Almost as soon as he stood on the warm sand, he shed the underwear and began to roam, free buttock and bollock. 'Been lookin' but can't find none. You seen anythin' in Ambrose's size love birds?'

'Dean? I can see your balls man,' Rome shook his head.

'Ya can?' Dean looked down and carefully cupped his privates. 'That better bro?'

'Define better,' but he gave his friend the benefit of a nod as Dean went off, no doubt to scavenge a grave. 'Maybe we should direct him to Batista.'

Renee wrinkled her nose.

The Animal as Batista had been known was buried in a shallow grave. Seth hadn't meant to kill him, Renee had begged him not to, but internal bleeding and the baking sun had claimed him. He'd been good as dead the second he'd challenged Seth. Renee, was so proud of him. Whilst she was close to Brie, the Bella with assassin hands and a razor mouth, she sincerely viewed Seth as her own brother. Her best friend...she loved him in a way that freed and confused her. He'd been gentle, told her that she belonged with Roman, but Seth had shown her more passion, more...everything. Roman seemed to need time before he could let himself even kiss her...and how she yearned for that mouth on hers.

'Think his clothes might be a bit big Rome.'

'Better than his current outfit,'

Well she couldn't disagree with that. Together, they watched the sun rise on Dean's bare ass. He found a boot, then another, slightly different, and scooted through the sands, picked at the bones of every carcass he came across. In his own time he'd find his way to the grave of Batista. At least then, he'd find some decent clothes. They could only hope. 'Maybe he'll come up with a new nickname for us along the way.'

'Not feeling love birds?'

She didn't receive an answer there. It was lucky she was a patient woman. Others who'd endured less would already have run into the arms of Seth, where he was ready and willing. Rome seemed willing...just not quite ready. But that was alright...for now. She could cope...for now. It was just...sometimes he looked at her and she could feel her ovaries throb.

'How about Romee?'

'Romee?'

'Yeah! You know, when people put together their names to make an adorable nickname for themselves?' Only after the words had left her mouth did she regret them.

'Romee?'

'Well, I don't think Remon sound as nice.'

He chuckled at that. There! That smile, limp in the middle, but there on the outskirts. Worth the wait.

'You, Miss Young, are a fool.'

'Well, I've been called worse.'

'You have?'

'In school they used to call me Bananarama Blondie.'

He liked that too, and turned to face her completely, eyes off his unbalanced brother for a while, focused on her. His hand turned up, gentle to cup her face, it slid down her neck to her shoulder and left a trail of goosebumps.

Just kiss me already...

'Hounds! Hounds! The gates of hell are open! The devils are spewing out into the celestial dawn! They come with blinding lights! With bodies of dust and ice!'

They parted too fast.

'Seth!'

The demand carried the writhe body of Rollins out of the sand and into the open, quickly flanked by the young woman who seemed to be his shadow, Brie Bella. They worked too well together, she would have made an excellent thief, and he a fantastic assassin. Renee had seen them battle, and it had terrified her. Even Dean responded to the shouts. The Rhodes brothers couldn't be seen, but their warning was spiked with terror. The earth beneath their feet seemed to shift; the heavy heartbeat of Buchanan broke with breath and life. They'd fallen so far down that they hid beneath in a shack of wood and cement and tin. She could see the network of veins and liver spots over the landscape.

And there!

There it was. A convoy, matte black in the early heart; she saw the vehicles sweat, sent off spiral and shimmers in the air. Not safe. This wasn't safe. Nowhere to run, less in which to hide. Who could it be? What enemy could fall on them now? So many had crowded them and been kicked down into the eternal pit of hell.

Dean pulled his boxers back on, took the torn pants offered to him, clearly salvaged from Batista's grave. Dolph crawled up too, and together they stood, few weapons between them. Only one of their group, save for the Rhodes brothers, stood away, watched over from a distance. Evil wore black, they all knew so, so why their own wardrobe mirrored that of the enemy was unclear and uncanny. Renee had felt herself slip from the light into the shadow a little too often. She liked it too much, as much as the studded gloves forever stapled round her hands and wrists; a gift from Dean who'd worn them before her, and showed her how to make the most out of Dirty Deeds.

She didn't recognize the men who clambered out of the vans and trucks. She saw the guns and the knives. She saw the determination steeled in their eyes because of the sacred dollar bill, and thought of the Game, Hunter Hearst Helmsley, a man who she'd never met, loathed by all, and she felt sorry for him. The thirty men she counted wouldn't survive until the end of the morning. She didn't need the protection of the men who surrounded her, of the woman who came to stand by her side. She didn't have their training, she didn't have their experience.

She wasn't afraid, but the Authority was.

Ten Minutes Later


'Renee? You got a little something, right there.' Dean licked his thumb and smudged away the blood from her cheek. His breath smelled rancid and she nearly gagged.

'Thanks Dean.'

He looked rather pleased with himself. He was covered from head to toe in blood, and stolen from one of the bodies at his feet; he lit himself a cigarette, took a deep drag and expelled the smoke into the already toxic air. Nearby, Brie, Dolph and Roman shifted sand for graves. Renee had not killed. That fell to the others; it seemed Dolph didn't have the stomach for it either. They'd fought, but the Shield and a lone Bella had made corpses of them all. It surprised her, and worried her, how little she felt for the nameless men who disappeared beneath the dust. They'd had identities, maybe families, personalities, motives, dreams...reasons for coming to Buchanan to deliver the Shield and friends to the Authority in coffins or chains.

'Nothing like a lil' mornin' exercise, right Seth?' Dean said with mouth half-full from the cigarette.

Seth was away from the others, inspecting one of the trucks which had arrived. Around his waist, stapled tight and bent by nails and Roman's strength, was that Kennedy title. Roman couldn't carry it, detested its weight and what it meant. His brothers encouraged him, told him they believed in what he could do, but he disliked the thought, didn't want the responsibility. It occurred to Renee, that there were secrets behind the eyes of Roman Reigns; reasons he did everything to protect his brothers...and didn't want, couldn't deal with the blood of the people he loved. Something had happened to him...she could sense it. They caught eyes a moment before she bent down to help Dean pick up another body. He was young, in his mid twenties. Around his neck were dog tags. Before she hooked his hands, she bent down, knees in the sand and reached out. Her fingers closed around the silver and lifted them over his head, brought the tags to her eye line.

'Tyson Kidd.'

Dean, who'd been about to lift the body by its ankles, dropped them.

'We're in trouble.' He turned on the spot. 'Check the tags! Check all the tags!'

Each set brought back a dark cloud. It hung heavier over each head until it felt as if they were about to compress into their necks. Renee didn't recognize a single one, but the others did. They'd been the law and on the run from it their whole lives long. They knew the names of cops when they heard them. Every single one of them, were legitimate, badge carrying blues. Renee's head pounded, the elation of surviving another fight quickly turning into fear.

'What have we done?'

Dean didn't have an answer for her. 'Quickly,' he started to drag the body down into one of the makeshift graves. The urgency didn't strike her until she saw a figure coming through the heat. That bear like man who'd helped to bring the brothers back together, who'd somehow kept them safe, even when they'd tied him to a tree. John Cena, the most loyal cop Kennedy had ever produced...he couldn't see this. Deception wasn't in her blood, and Dean dragged her feet first. He threw sand fast over the body of Tyson Kidd. The last few corpses were buried among the bones and tin before Cena was close enough to see, and the dog tags that dangled from Renee's hand, were quickly thrown over her neck and stuffed into her shirt, away from view, but sneeringly close to her heart. Already they weighed her down...the guilt...

'Dean -,'

'Don't you say a word to him Renee. You hear me girl? You can't tell 'im nothin'. We need Cena on side. Can't have 'im thinkin' we're cop killers.'

But they were, unintentionally, mistakenly, cop killers.

A large, rough hand met the small of her back, Roman. She opened her mouth, but he shook his head. Cena drew closer, and she thought the volume of her heartbeat would give her away. Roman slipped his hand up beneath her shirt, skin on skin, rubbed gently, to keep her calm, keep her quiet. There was no disguising something had taken place. Each and every one of them was splattered in righteous blood. The Game had played them. He'd made thirty martyrs at the hands of wanted men. No where would be safe...nowhere at all...

'Hey – the roads are clear – what on earth happened here?'

Cena was a big man, but not too bright.

'Brie and Renee are on the rag.'

Both women turned and looked at Ziggler in complete and utter horror. She felt her face burn bright red and it had nothing to do with the incoming sun. Brie's face was a murder mask.

'Sounds...messy.' It was clear that he didn't believe them. 'But not messy enough. Wanna tell a man what fun happened whilst he was being a responsible adult?'

'We were attacked.' Seth this time, all matter-of-fact, 'They shot me, we retaliated.'

'What?' Renee couldn't suppress it. Now that she looked, she could see the scrape along Seth's right arm. He'd been lucky, it could have been so much worse. She could stitch that shut if given the time. She saw Cena's eyebrows rise.

'Hm.'

The big man wasn't convinced and Renee found her lungs near crippled by holding in the truth. The truth? Seth hadn't lied. He'd told the truth, save for the vital evidence which hung around Renee's neck.

'You guys alright? Miss Renee? Miss Brie?'

'We're fine John, thank you.' Brie walked up to him and placed a comforting hand on his arm. Cena always seemed to find contact with her strange (probably something to do with the fact he'd had a curious relationship with Brie's identical twin sister Nikki); he flinched but nodded at her, ever the gentleman.

'What have you done with the bodies?'

'Buried them,' as Brie said it, Dean was busy. He'd gathered up shards of tin and moved to each shallow bump in the sand to mark the graves. Giving respect to the men they'd murdered. Good men? Lord only knew how many good men the Shield had killed over the years – the murderous past they tried to atone for and leave behind had been dragged bloody and screaming to the present. The Game wanted to screw with them, fuck their brains. She could already feel hers twist. She'd not killed, but the blood was still on her hands. 'We thought they at least deserved that.'

'Any man, good or evil, deserves a burial.' Cena said. He always stood so straight. He would have made a fine military man. Roman seemed to think so too. There was an odd amount of respect between the two. They didn't say much to one another, communicated more with nods and shakes of the head. It worked for them. 'I'm impressed, must be...twenty five or more,' he said after quickly counting them, pointing to each marker that Dean pressed down into the sand with his wrong-sized boot.

Quite suddenly, an odd noise caught their attention, like static. It fuzzed in Renee's ears and she squinted against the bright light of the new day, toward the source.

'What's that?'

The convoy. Before Cena had a chance, Ziggler dashed over to where the lead car sat. 'C.B,' he shouted. Seth caught up with him and shoved him aside. They gathered around the open door of the black vehicle. Seth activated the C.B.

'Has it been done?'

Renee didn't recognize the voice, but the Shield brothers did. Roman snatched the C.B from Seth's hand and held it up to his mouth.

'Cesaro, you're going to have to do better than that.'

Cesaro? Mr Cesaro? The man who'd tried to use her as a bargaining chip in Mama's. The man whose face she'd smashed in with the silver tea carrier. That Mr Cesaro? In a childish way she thought he'd been defeated, that he'd disappeared from the story entirely. But of course he hadn't. What they were doing, experiencing, it wasn't a children's book with a thousand and one tales ending happily. She clutched Roman's arm, her fingertips dug deep but he didn't seem to notice.

'Ah Mr Reigns, what a pleasant surprise,' the Swiss man didn't sound at all surprised. And why should he? The Authority had known all along what would happen. 'I can see you all survived. Very well done.'

He can see us? Renee mouthed to Brie. The Bella twin narrowed her eyes and slipped from the group.

'Just what are you trying to achieve Cesaro? What's the Game playing at? You think that all you need to do to stop us is send every man on your payroll?'

Cesaro sounded amused, 'How's your face Reigns? It seems Mr Lesnar struck a nerve. You don't seem as animated as you used to.'

Dean, apparently bored of Cesaro, snatched the C.B from Roman, 'You want animated you bald headed biscuit? Why don't you show your face? I'll show you how fuckin' animated we can be.'

Biscuit? Did he seriously just call him a biscuit?

Brie appeared around the other side of the car, through the open door, and raised her hands to the roof. She felt along the ridges slowly, cautiously. What was she looking for? A camera? Roman grabbed the C.B back and shook his head in wonder at Dean.

'Whilst that sounds wonderful, I must decline. But Mr Ambrose, I fear I must let you know that your Mullah Queen will be very sad at today's events. I do not think she will approach you with as much courtesy as you have been previously shown. It is a shame. But you have all proven strong opponents; I would dearly love to have you all compete in the KOW arena. Especially you – Miss Young, you have done well to survive as long as you have.'

The mere mention of her name filled her with dread. She'd almost assumed that she was anonymous to the Authority, that she could pass unknown, without threat should it be needed. But no, of course not, Cesaro not only knew her name but her face. He could pick her out a mile off, especially now, if he had them on camera –

There was a spark, and out the corner of her eye, Renee saw as Brie tugged something small, round and black, like a beetle from the car roof. She twisted it round and then, flexed her fingers. It gave way and smashed.

'Well that's inconvenient. But I know I have your attention.'

'And what exactly do you want with it?'

'I have a proposal for you, Roman Reigns and friends. One which I believe that you will find most interesting, and very difficult to refuse.'

'I doubt that Cesaro.'

'I have located your Yes Movement.'

Silence descended. Brie's eyes widened, fear penetrated every pore. Their eyes flecked from one to another, each and every one of them felt it. If they found the Yes Movement, if they cornered them, it would be a massacre. Slowly, each one looked out to the sea of shallow graves. Clever Cesaro, he knew the guilt in their guts at the slaughter of the cops, and how could they let it happen again? He had them pushed into a corner.

'It would be very easy for me to dispose of them, especially now Mr Lesnar roams their halls. But I think we can help each other Mr Reigns.'

'Last time you said that to me I ended up fighting for my life.'

'No different to your usual day.' Cesaro dismissed. 'I have grown tired, Mr Reigns of the Game and his high and mighty ways. He pushes us and demands of us and gives no reward. The disposal of Lesnar and the death of Paul Heyman only increased his maltreatment of myself and the arena. I will not let my life's work crumble under the heel of a tyrant.'

'You made your grave Cesaro,'

'And you have made many more Reigns.'

Roman closed his eyes, cut loose a sigh that could have blown away every grain of sand. 'What do you have in mind?'

'A lesser of two evils, Reigns; I do not crave power or control, I simply want to run my arena in peace. I will help you to your throne, if you will help me take back the KOW arena. It's been taken from my grasp and placed in the hands of an upstart, and I will not tolerate that. He's strong, he's smart, I challenged him and I have failed. He has a whole colony of rats at his disposal and I am outnumbered. Your Yes Movement will be safe if you help me, and I will ally with you. The Game perhaps will suspect me, but I have significant use and many connections. I can be very useful to you all.'

Dean had clambered up onto Roman's back. He clung there like a mangy koala; his face was withdrawn, as if he'd been kept away from everything good in the world.

'I have rats of my own,' he mused into Roman's ear, his personal devil. 'I can get into that arena. I can take on his problem. I like problems.' He seemed far too enthusiastic, but then Renee remembered that Seth told her Dean used to compete frequently in the underground ring. Maybe he missed the kick he got from it, maybe it was just Dean. The simple idea of bloodshed and violence seemed to excite him.

'Who's the man?' Roman asked.

'He goes by the name of Kevin Owens.'

Dean near sent Roman flying as he scrambled over the front of him to snatch the C.B once more, 'HE'S MINE CESARO. MINE. CALL IT. PUT IT ON BANNERS, TEAR UP THE STREETS. TELL THE KOW AMBROSE IS COMIN' HOME.'

'Old friend of yours Dean?' Renee mused quietly. He turned and shot her such a glare she shrank three inches into the crook of Roman's arm.

'I must say I do like your enthusiasm Mr Ambrose. We have missed it. This will not be easy. To return to Kennedy will be difficult.'

'A certain snake in the grass will have taken the underground trails. If we could follow him, we could get back into the city. But the chances are he'll have delivered our message to Bryan before we even get half way; the Movement will head to Buchanan.' Roman muttered and covered the C.B with a massive hand. 'We might miss each other completely.'

'We could go in by road, the few of us who aren't as high on the hit list,' Renee suggested. 'We could smuggle you in somehow.'

Roman shook his head, 'Too dangerous. You're known to them now, and Nikki will have reported Brie to the Authority.'

'There has to be another way.'

But she was greeted by shaking heads. Above ground they'd be seen, below, they risked missing the Movement completely.

'Is there any way we can contact Orton?'

'He had a phone.' Renee pointed out. They all turned and stared at her. 'He had it in the pocket of his jacket – I spotted it when I was piggy backing him.' she fished into her jeans and pulled out her own mobile. 'If anyone knows his number, speak now or forever hold your peace.'

'We could just chance it,' Ziggler suggested. Clearly he still wasn't head over heels in love with the idea of trusting Orton with anything slightly important.

It was Dean's turn to shake his head, 'I know the catacombs good, but no one knows them better than Randy Orton. He can get us through them and into Kennedy...'

'May I suggest something?'

'What?'

'Avoid Kennedy for now. I have arenas in the other cities, Owens now runs them all, but if I get the word out and spread of Mr Ambrose wanting to fight him, it'll draw notice, one hell of a crowd, maybe even the Game will attend. If we build up Ambrose in smaller fights, Owens won't be able to ignore him.'

'You want us to send Dean to you?' Roman looked like he wanted to slap the C.B, 'Do you think we're idiots Cesaro? We've only just found our way back to each other. There's no way we're splitting up now.'

'If Mr Ambrose works with me, it'll draw attention away from Kennedy. You'll find it easier to infiltrate it. You'll have to win over the people of the city. Most are terrified of the Authority. There are a few people who will be able to help you enter the strong hold, will act as soldiers for you if you give them reason to fight by your side. You wronged many as the Shield. It will take time to win support again.'

'And you think by having Dean out in the open winning fights we'll get some?'

'It's a strong possibility, yes.'

'But not positive.'

'I'm not a fortune teller Mr Reigns. We are all in the fates hands, as are the lives of your Yes Movement if you disagree. To show my good intentions, Mr Ambrose may bring an ally along with him – I'll be outnumbered, and you will have the upper hand. I can even help you keep contact with one another. You saw my camera. I have my suppliers. This could be a very beautiful friendship.'

Renee slowly peered around the group.

They all had their skills, they all had their uses. Hers? She could patch up wounds, she kept up moral and helped out in any way she could. She had no prestige. She had no name. She wouldn't be of any use in drumming up support in the city. But...by Dean's side...she could hope to keep him alive. She could hope to keep him going. To keep him safe.

'I'll go.'

They all looked at her.

'No, I'll go.' Cena suggested, talking for the first time in minutes. She'd almost forgotten that he was there.

Renee shook her head. 'They'll need you in Kennedy Mr Cena, with your police connections you'll be able to help them far better than I will.'

'If he doesn't arrest us first,' Seth muttered. 'Renee you can't go, we won't be able to protect you if you're away from us.'

'Seth I've spent the past few days protecting you. I can look after myself. Out of all of us, I'm the only one who can tend to wounds, who can move unnoticed. I can make a name for myself in the fights with Dean. If people learn that we're fighting through the leagues together, people will pay more attention, Dean might be the main attraction, but I can keep them coming.'

The one pair of eyes she didn't want to meet were Roman's, and when she did, she felt something break inside her rib cage. The hurt reflected back at her was agonizing. The idea of being away from him again was soul-destroying, but she knew she was right. There was a silent storm raging inside of her bones. She wished it would end but she knew that when it finally did...people would be hurt. Someone had to suffer for them all to survive. Her feelings alone she could deal with, but the way he looked at her...her heart cramped. She felt the salt puncture her eyes, and furiously she blinked away the tears that threatened to fall. No. She had to be strong. She had to show them, she could do this.

What surprised her was the lack of objection from Dean. He seemed to know where she was coming from, agreed with her. The man barely knew her, and yet seemed to already have such faith in her that he was willing to gamble his life on her being in his corner.

'Roman, I can do this,'

He closed his eyes, 'Miss Young will come with Dean.'

There was a short pause, awkward almost. 'Very well, I'm currently located in Jefferson. Seek out the Collective. They will bring you to me.'

'I thought you said you were alone Cesaro.'

'I am. The Collective are not my allies.'

'You're being held prisoner by them aren't you?'

'I prefer to think of myself as a guest in their affairs. I may require some aid removing myself from their attentions, but it should not be an problem for people of your caliber.'

Renee rubbed her forehead. This was becoming more and more difficult. This didn't bring them any closer to removing the Authority from power, it almost felt like they were taking the road less traveled just to double back when they realized how lost they'd become. But Mr Cesaro made sense. The more allies they had, especially those with inside knowledge and a grudge, the better their chances were at succeeding. They couldn't let the Yes Movement suffer for their mistake. She felt the cold of Tyson Kidd's dog tags burn her skin. She reached out, and pried the C.B from Roman's fingers, and held it uncertainly in front of her mouth, finger down.

'We'll come for you Mr Cesaro. I don't know how you control the life and death of the Yes Movement, but leave them be. We need to play this Game together if we all want to survive.'

'Well put Miss Young. I most look forward to your company once again. Though this time without the teapot. I must leave you now. I'm glad we could arrange this enterprise. Oh, and Mr Rollins? The Kennedy Title looks mighty fine around your waist, but I believe it belongs to Mr Reigns, isn't that right?'

The C.B cut out. Seth, who lingered just next to Renee, who, as she realized now, had held her left hand the whole time, let go in a flash and his eyes cast down to the dull gold around his mid-section. He made to take it off, but Roman reached out a hand and patted his shoulder, and shook his head. He turned his attention back to Renee.

'Give us a minute?'

No one argued with that. 'When you're ready to move, I'll be with the truck at the back,' Dean muttered to her. He slunk round them both and hung in the shadows of the convoy, one with them.

'I don't like this.' Roman's hands wrapped around Renee's wrists, his gaze so intense it might shoot laser beams straight through her skull. 'We've only just found you again Renee, I don't want you gone again. Not now...never. I don't want you to go.'

'Roman,' her voice was soft. She gently pulled her hand free of his grasp, touched his healing forehead, traced the cuts and scars down its side. She pushed his thick hair behind his ear. What a face. What eyes. They'd haunted her so, the very idea of turning away from them now terrified her so completely and utterly. She'd climbed mountains just to be with him again...but now, she knew she'd have to move them with her bare hands to find him once more. 'I'll find you. I promise, I'll find my way back to you. I can't quite imagine a life without you in it. I hate the idea, it's dreadful. You'll be my light at the end of the tunnel. That shooting star to chase. Don't be scared for me. If I die tomorrow, then I lived, and I have loved.'

His breathing was heavy, her lungs felt so sore. He pressed his forehead to hers. The contact felt like she was on fire. She could feel the heat coming off his body. Shocks ran through her skin. Blinded, dazed, she almost let go. There was no safety net. She couldn't take cover. There was no running away from the feelings which glowed inside at one hundred degrees. The man before her could have been the biggest mistake of her life, the most wonderful stupid mistake. What good would it do her, loving a nomad? Loving a king? She could doubt herself every second but she could never lose faith in him. What she felt inside.

For the first time in her life, she felt in control. She kissed him. The world exploded, her senses blurred. He tasted like the blood which still lingered on their bodies, a copper that burned her lips. He tasted of motor oil and summer, some volcano heat that made her crave more. He responded in kind, hungry, bittersweet, a kiss which took her breath away. The pages of time and space could have torn and she would have been suspended forever in the sweat of his rawness. When it came time to breathe, she couldn't remember how. Her lips throbbed, stung. But he wasn't done. He took her again, another, harder, braver. She felt her body hitch, twitch. Instinct carried her into his arms, hands knotted in his thick mane. The tear that rolled down her cheek mingled with his sweat and fell to dissipate in the sands.

'Renee?'

She could barely remember her friend's existence until Brie appeared just beyond field of vision. She didn't let go of Roman, couldn't. Refused, but turned her head, just enough to see.

'I...want you to have this,'

Outstretched in her hands, was that silver straight razor. It was sharpened to perfection, it glared up at her in that early sun, dared her to lay fingers on its much loved surface. Splattered with the blood of its recent victims, it scared her. She couldn't take it. But Brie reached out, removed one of Renee's hands from Roman's skull, and closed her fist around it, pushed it away to Renee's breast.

'It'll look after you, if you look after it.'

'But what about you?'

Brie gave her a small smile, and looked over to Seth. 'I'm with Captain Awesome remember? I'll...we'll all be just fine. You concentrate on looking after you.'

Renee broke away then, threw her arms around Brie. She hung onto her so tightly, careful not to cut her. 'Thank you Brie, thank you so much, for everything.' She sniffed and smiled, 'Go and find your husband, and when you see him, give him the biggest kiss from me.'

'Wench! We gotta go, before the sun gets too high!' Dean – from far down the convoy.

Renee swallowed the annoyed smile, turned back to Roman. 'I'll be back before you know it. Right back here.'

He pulled her close, embraced her tight. 'If anyone hurts you girl, they'll answer to me.'

'Looking after me? That's sweet Roman.'

'If I was looking after you I wouldn't let you do this.'

'We all do stupid things.'

He nodded, and slowly, reluctantly, he separated his arms. It was like he was trying to part the sea, the effort, the pain in his face, his eyes...she didn't want to go. The perfect symmetry in his face would follow her, she knew that. She forced herself to breathe as she turned away, as she walked away from him. Every footstep broke her heart, every second she could feel his gaze burn into her back. Every part of her body told her to run back into his arms, to stay where it was safe. But it wasn't right. They were wrong. There were things that were bigger than her. She couldn't look at Roman, but cast her eyes to Seth. He tried to walk toward her, but Brie held him back. Renee gave him a small, sad wave. She didn't want to leave any of them. But Dean needed her. This man she didn't know needed her. She swore she'd heard that song before.

'Look after Roman Seth, Brie try and stitch his arm up for me!' she quickened her pace, then stopped. A ball of fluff with four legs sat on the asphalt, looked up at her with massive, inquisitive eyes. 'Oh Lillian.' She bent down, rubbed the head of her beloved pet. 'Mama's got to go away sweetie. She'll come back, she promises. Seth will look after you. He will, he'll love you as much as I do.' She leaned forward, kissed the cat's head, and straightened up once more.

Dean waited in the driver's side.

'No way Dean, if I'm going along with this madness, I'm driving the rig.' She said, and jolted her head. 'Move on over cowboy.'

He did so obediently, with a cocky smirk on his mouth that she just know she was going to hate further down the line. She steeled herself as she clambered up into the truck. It was heavy duty, newer than the character they'd traveled across state in. She ran a hand over the dashboard.

'Eden...I'll call you Eden.' She turned her head to Dean. His boots were up on the dashboard, a new cigarette lit and stuck out the corner of his mouth. He'd smudged the blood on his forehead as he tried to slick his hair back and out of his eyes. The blood ruined his skin. He'd somehow found a shirt, no doubt from the back of the very truck they were in. It was the only part not spoiled. It looked wrong. She reached over, mopped some of the blood from his face and neck, and rubbed it on the navy police shirt. 'Much better.'

He gave her a cheerful grin, spread his legs, pointed between them, out the windscreen and shouted 'Onward wench! Onward!'

'Dean we're not going to get very far if you're going to keep calling me wench.'

'Well I gotta call you somethin','

'What's wrong with Renee?'

'Too normal.'

She closed her eyes, counted to ten and turned the key. The truck rumbled to life. It sounded twenty times healthier than what she'd become accustomed to driving. She set it into reverse, pulled back, then into accelerate. She rounded the rest of the convoy and rolled down the asphalt, headed west, toward Jefferson. She past the first car, and Roman was sat on the roof. He didn't wave. He didn't smile, and when he was almost out of sight, he raised a hand to her. It must have been the heat, sweat from how hot it was getting; she rubbed the water from her cheeks.

'So, Dean Ambrose...what's your story?'