A/N: I'm officially out of my mind. I mean the last thing I need right now is starting a new story and yet here I am, posting this. But I just couldn't help it, I woke up in the middle of the night in a blackout and my muses just started to tickle my imagination. I tried to shun them off, but at the end I gave in… as always. So, this is kind of an apocalyptic/horror slash, yup, you read that right... (I made that genre in my mind.) Anyway, hope you enjoy.
And So It Begins
If there was something to be said about WWE champion CM Punk, it was that he lived his emotions to the extreme; that and that he had a very short fuse.
Everybody who knew the Chicago native was aware of this… hell, even those who didn't know him that well knew that he was a victim of his own foul moods and that when he was crabby, the best thing to be done was leave him alone until his acrid mood would wear off by itself.
John Cena was very well aware of this; after all he has become somehow close to the man in the course of the last past year and he has been a first row witness of the way Punk would get when provoked.
Now usually, Punk would fight his battles with his quick sharp tongue and he did it better than anybody else. He could cut deep with words and John himself has even been victimized by the younger man's favorite tool once or twice; but sometimes, when he was having it pretty bad, John has seen the younger man take his frustration in the gym.
Cena would always watch from a very short distance, trying to hit the weights but his eyes wandering to wherever Punk was. And be it in the spinning bike or throwing vicious kicks and punches to a defenseless punching bag, Punk would work out to the limits of exhaustion when he was in one of his moods.
First time he saw the other man hitting the punching bag while pissed off, John has been transfixed by the sight; the way his shirt was sticking to his lean torso, the way his hair got drenched in his sown sweat and the feral glint of his blazing eyes was something out of this world… he has watched for a while, but when he noticed that Orton was looking at him funny, he snorted and 'casually' asked him what was with Punk.
'The fuck if I now; but if he gets his hands on whomever pissed him off, he's going to kick his head off.' That has been Orton's answer and John agreed.
Overall, the general consensus was that Punk always struggled to control his moods; but that night… that night he did the unimaginable and something that was considered stepping out of the line by everyone in the business.
He hit a fan in the crowd. He wasn't very soaked in the details, but apparently, after jumping the barricade a fan shoved him or slapped the back of his head and out of instinct, Punk hit him…
Now usually that wouldn't sound so bad because anyone who dared touch in any threatening manner a WWE Wrestler had to be aware that he was in for some or retaliation, but the little detail that meant trouble in that situation was that Punk apparently hit the wrong fan.
That has been over an hour ago, just when the show was ending; and what was worse, he did it with the cameras still rolling and with Vince McMahon looking.
Running his left hand down his jaw, John Cena shook his head in disbelief as he made his way to the locker room. He knew Punk was still there because his tour bus was parked outside and yeah, he also knew that he was going to be pissed off; but for some reason he felt like he needed to have a word with him and he wasn't going to leave until he had it.
With his determination in full and turning in a corner of the intricate backstage corridors of the arena, the injured wrestler spotted Kofi Kingston walking out of the locker room and when he saw him, he just had to ask.
"How bad is it?"
"Pretty bad, man; Vince just talked to him. Best you can do is let him be."
Now, Kofi was Punk's best friend in the WWE and if he was bailing out, then things couldn't be so good within those walls. But even though he knew it, John still kept walking and opened the door to step in.
Taking a look around, he noticed that at least Punk didn't trash the locker room as he has been expecting. That was a good sign for him, as that would only get him in even more trouble with the Big Boss.
But anyway, Punk was sitting in one of the benches, throwing his wrestling gear angrily into his bag while his iPod blasted loudly against his ear. Apparently he just took a shower and after getting dressed in dark cargo shorts, blue hoodie and black Converse shoes, he was getting ready to leave the arena.
John approached with caution, taking a seat in the bench opposite of Punk while using his good hand to take off his cap.
Taking notice of his presence, the voice of the voiceless lifted his head and dug a hole through John with the intensity of his olive green eyes. "What the fuck do you want?" Barked out, yanking the headphones as his face contorted into a scowl.
"I heard Vince was here."
Snorting without any trace of amusement whatsoever, Punk zipped his duffel bag close and shook his head. "Of course he was here, ripping me a new one."
Now, John Cena wouldn't say that he and Punk were best buds, but there was some sort of camaraderie between them that was hard to explain to the passerby. Maybe it was just that they were the top Superstars of the WWE and after working closely for a few months, there was a mutual understanding of each other.
Yes, they sometimes they went head to head with some matters, but most of the time they got along just fine and it was probably because of their unspoken camaraderie that Punk wasn't going off on John in that moment.
True, there was some hostility in the air, but it wasn't so bad as John has seen it.
"I bet he did. Do you want to talk about it?"
Blowing out a breath through his lips, Punk got to his feet and snarled his lips. "What are you, my therapist? Of course I don't want to talk about it."
After saying that, Punk swung his bag over his shoulder and meant to leave, leaving John sitting there with a dejected look on his face. Not that he was really expecting the man to open up… but he was kind of hoping that he did.
That sentiment was an odd one to John and he didn't know how to put in in words, but there was something about Punk what always called to him and in more times that he could count, he has found himself trying to appeal to his good side.
More often than not it kind of worked and for a while they could joke together and even talk about trivial things that had nothing to do with their work; but in other occasions, when he was in one of his moods, Punk would just brush him off and disregard him as nothing more than a nuisance.
That was what he was doing right now and John desperately grasped for anything he could have. "Punk-" He called out, but then as if in cue, all the lights went out and they were both left in total darkness.
"What the fuck?" Punk asked.
Silence. Neither of them spoke a word for the good part of a minute and John started to wonder if Punk just walked out and left him there; but then he caught a faint sound coming from the place he knew the younger wrestler has been standing so he got to his feet as well.
"What the hell happened?" John asked, walking closer to Punk.
"Beats me. But my phone isn't working either."
Putting his cap back on, John moved forward and started to blindly search for the door handle, but once he managed to open the door he realized that the same darkness that reigned inside the locker room was taking over the corridors as well.
Wasn't the stadium supposed to have emergency lights?
"Are you still there," John asked.
"Of course I'm still here, where else could I fucking go all of a sudden in this darkness?"
Rolling his eyes, John extended his hand and touched something. He didn't know what it was, but when he tried to grab it he felt it being yanked away.
"That's my hand, John Boy."
"Sorry," John said, for some reason feeling his face blushing. "I can't see a damn thing. I think maybe we should go outside."
As a response, Punk snorted. "Sure, lead the way, genius."
With that plan, the two wrestlers ventured out to the corridors, walking blindly along the wall. John really didn't know where he was going, he assumed that there had to be an emergency door somewhere around and that was what he was trying to find.
Punk followed close behind, John could feel his strong presence very near and on occasions, he would even feel him bumping into him.
"Do you have any idea of where you are going?" The Straight Edge Superstar asked in an annoyed tone. He has collided against the older man for what felt like the hundredth time that nigh and in his rotten mood that only pissed him off.
He hated that he was unable to see where he was going.
"Well I can't see a damn thing either so-"
Before he could finish that sentence, a loud and desperate scream echoed in the darkness and John wasn't going to lie, the sound made the blood running through his veins turn icy-cold.
It also made Punk bump into him again, only that this time he didn't pull away as quickly as he has been doing the previous times. "What was that?" The younger of the two asked, all trace of annoyance replaced by uncertainty.
"I don't know." John breathed out, his body automatically getting close to Punk until their shoulders were pressed together.
Holding his breath, John stood in place, and when another scream filled the silence, he pressed his back hard against the wall. But this scream didn't stop, John could hear it getting louder and closer and chillier and soon after he could also hear rapid footsteps coming their way.
"John-" Punk mumbled and the former Champ swallowed hard down. "What the…?"
"Shhh." The person screaming out of the top of her lungs, because yes it was a female, was coming near, so near that he could almost feel it. And then, right when she was passing in front of them he jumped forward and she crashed against him.
"NO! Let me go!" She yelled, kicking and screaming as he got hold of her. Now, the sound was strong enough to make cringe, but he kind of recognized the voice.
"It's okay, I got you." He said, his hand lifting up to her face to find.
"John? Oh my God, John!" She said, wrapping her arms around him and sobbing against his chest.
John let her do it, feeling the awkwardness of the moment hit him full force.
"Wow, is that Eve? I didn't know she was so afraid of the dark." Punk said and John tilted his head towards the sound of his voice.
It may be that none of them could see each other, but he still sent a hard glance his way and his out of place comment.
Pulling away from John, the WWE Diva sucked in a breath. "There's something here." She said, her voice coming out as chocked. "I… I don't know what it is but got it was in the Diva's locker room and, and it got the girls."
John listened, Punk snorted and Eve just sobbed.
"I think it got AJ, she was there and Alicia- God I think they are dead and I just ran and…"
"Okay, calm down, breathe and try to make sense. What do you mean with the 'they are dead' part?" Punk asked, and as soon as the words were out, another scream was heard echoing all around them.
Feeling Eve basically jump against him while starting to cry once again, Cena clenched his teeth.
"It's here, it's here again John, and it's going to get us."
Not knowing what to think but having a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach, John stepped back and dragged Eve with him. It wasn't until he felt the safety of the wall against his back that he was able to breathe again.
"I don't like this." Punk said and without thinking it twice, John reached for him until the back of his hand was brushing against his.
"I don't like it either…" He replied, flexing his fingers so that he could suppress the urge of taking his hand. But at the end he ended up taking a hold of Punk's hand and what was more shocking, Pun didn't pull away.
The three of them remained like that until the screaming stopped. "Let's just get out of here," Punk finally said and this time he did pulled away from Cena's touch.
"Yes, let's get out of here…"
