CHAPTER ONE

First thing he heard was his own breathing before he came slowly aware of his surroundings. He felt the hard solid ground underneath him. Solid and cold. It instantly made him shiver. He took a deep breath inhaled some dust and coughed.

"Aaaah fuck ..."

His whole body ached when he coughed, especially his head and the part of his rips he was lying on. A part of his face was throbbing and felt swollen, when he grimaced. He tried to bring up a hand to his head, as he noticed that his hands were tied behind his back. That explained the drag he felt on his shoulders.

He tried to get rid of the small ropes but they only cut deeper into his flesh when he moved.

He tiredly opened his eyes. Damn, why was he tied up? Was he kidnapped? He tried his best to see something, but it was all black. Not a single ray of light came into the room where he was, revealing the slightest outline to him.

It could have been the biggest palace in the dark or even the trunk of a big car. It smelled rotten, so he figured it wasn't a palace. The smell of mould, dried blood and other disgusting things crept up to his nose.

Dean was thoroughly an adrenaline junkie. He enjoyed the feeling that let him made all the crazy things in his life. He wasn't afraid of heights or speed, of placing a good punch or even getting one. Taking the risk to break his neck every day, that was exactly his thing. The adrenaline kept him alive. Made him feel something good. He loved the feeling that let him go crazy and conquer everything he wanted.

But this, this was so not his thing. And it sparked in him a feeling which he actually thought he wasn't able to feel any more: Panic. Pure, unloved panic.

Where the hell was he? And above all, who did this to him? And when? He tried to remember where he was before he woke up a minute ago, but nothing. No memory and even the slightest idea of how he came here. There must have been a violent blow to the head he figured. It wasn't the first time someone smashed his head and the splitting headache spoke for itself. He felt the dust from the ground clinging to his head and something wet but as long as he can't see what it is, there is no time to waste a thought about it.

He tried to control his breathing when he realized he was almost hyperventilating.

"I must calm down. Breath in, breath out. This ain't too diffic..." he said mentally to himself, when suddenly there was a crack. It wasn't loud but it was heard above his heavy breathing and it let him stop breathe immediately. He wasn't alone. He was looking around but still couldn't see a thing.

"So you didn't expect that, right?" The other man cackled.

The voice sounded familiar but Dean couldn't put a finger on it. He felt light headed and wasn't able to think properly. He tried to breath in with his mouth open but ended in another coughing fit as the dry air scratched his throat and sting his lungs.

"Mr. World Heavyweight Champion..." the other man spit it out with as much venom as he could.

"What... what do you want?" Dean asked with a rough, low voice, trying so suppress another cough.

"What I want? You know what that is."

The steps came closer before they fell silent. With the fact that dirt was kicked in his face he suspected that his kidnapper now was standing right in front of him. He heard faint rustling and suddenly felt a hot breath on his face.

Dean couldn't stop the panic rise inside of him, making his heartbeat increase deadly high.

He was wondering how that ass hole could see anything in this black mess. How he knew where his face was. Was it possible, that he used a night vision device or something like that? He tried to get away from the other man, but failed. His body betrayed him as it hardly moved away from the breathing in his face. He just couldn't. His head was spinning, hurting like hell and he felt nauseous. He tried to move his feet but that was only rewarded with just more pain in his back and on his ankles. They're must been tied up, too. Well, at least he was still able to feel pain in every nerve of his body. That must mean a good thing...

It felt like an eternity, like he took his time to watch his captive before he finally heard him speak:

"You can't imagine the pleasure I feel, seeing you like this, Dean."

The man cackled again. He came an inch nearer, whispering and breathing now into his ear with a pleased growl in his deep voice. It sent shivers down Dean's spine.

"I want you to suffer. I want to break you. I want to pay everything back to you what you did to me. And the best thing is: Nobody has a clue, that you're mine now. Nobody wonders where you are or what you're doing."

"I... I don't believe you..."

It just didn't make sense. He was the man, the face of the WWE, it can't get unnoticed that he doesn't show up at an event, a meet and greet or whatever he was up to before he got here. The fans would miss him, his colleagues would miss him. Of course, Stephanie would miss him, too, even if she wouldn't mind him gone. But it was clearly bad for business, if he vanished from the face of the earth and never appeared again.

"Oh... you will..."

The man stood up and Dean still wasn't sure with whom he was dealing here. At least it seemed, that he clearly got the upper hand.

"You son of-"

Last thing he heard was a loud smack. A targeted blow to his head send him back into unconsciousness.

"Don't you underestimate me ever again!"

AN: Crossposting it on Ao3. All kinds of reviews are appreciated!