Chapter 1: Dystopia
The streets are quiet, and they're dark.
No one roams. It's lonely.
Not just that, but it's eerie. The reason why no one wants to roam the streets. Not tonight, not ever. There's no sounds other than the occasional pass of vehicles, maybe the rumble of the subways below the street. The only source of light comes from the neon signs of the city, that even still flicker and fade out every so often, making it that hard to see. Even the streetlights have been turned off.
And no one wants to roam the streets at night because it's dangerous to be spotted.
They're searching. They always search as soon as it's dark.
But no one really knows... Who are they?
After Vince McMahon died of illness, things were put in charge of both of his children 一 Stephanie and Shane. And when this was the case, Stephanie snapped. The thought of having all of her father's fortune in her hands blinded her views of morality. Insanity was quick to take over afterwards. She became power hungry, wanted all the money she could get from her father's will, and didn't care what she did, and what were the consequences, to get it.
It would all belong to her, and she wouldn't be willing to share with Shane. She'd have enough money to buy out this city. Claim it as her own. And that's what she was going to do, whether her father would want that of her or not.
First things first, she would have to make sure Shane had no access to his share of the money. Of course, she could make it quick and murder her brother. But that would be ineffective; not only would she get caught by police, but no one would really respect her for doing that. She wanted to be feared. She wanted people to hear her name and fear for their lives.
She got together a bunch of men from the Air Force, willing or not, and she sent them out on a quest. She made it clear to Shane, and every other WWE Superstar who expected her to pay them, that she was out for them. If she caught them, she was going to make their lives miserable. Since then, each and every night, Stephanie and her team goes out above the streets in their helicopters, search lights blaring. Regardless of who it is, if they get caught, it's a death sentence. Civilians will be killed for fear they'll spread the rumor that Stephanie has plans of kidnapping the WWE stars. As for the superstars themselves, once they're within her grasp, they'll never see the light of day again.
As soon as the city grows dark, Shane knows he has a job to do: keep himself and the other superstars safe and sound. Thus far, no one's been caught, but he hasn't let his guard down. Anyone can sneak up on them at any time. That could be lethal.
And he isn't going to lose any of these guys. The ones he's worked so hard to build up, and who, in return, built him up as well.
Tonight, Shane's taken to the streets, but he's made sure he was ready for it. He's driving down the street in a heavily armored vehicle, painted black as the night, every window tinted 一 even the windshield 一 installed with the highest quality mufflers so not even an officer patrolling the sidewalks could hear the truck passing. Unless someone was directly looking for that exact truck, no one would see it at first glance.
In the back, he carries three men, crouching down on the balls of their feet and peering slightly out the windows while staying low enough to avoid being seen. All of them have on different colored masks, and hoodies pulled over their heads: one blue and white, another green and red, and the other orange and yellow. Though they're not the most discreet colors, they hide their faces and identities; that's what matters most. Besides, those three color combinations are what distinguish who's on Shane's side. These three are allies, and they're being hunted down just as much as Shane is.
Where's Shane taking these three, at nearly midnight? Everyone's hiding themselves at the moment, knowing that the searchlights will be scanning the streets any minute now. Even if the truck is well hidden in the dark, there's nothing that can keep them hidden once the searchlights start going off.
These three volunteered themselves as protectors. Just as Shane does on a nightly basis, they make sure that the hidden are safe, and they have everything they need. It's a risky job, and since the team always worked well together when they were a tag team in the WWE, Shane trusted that they'd do their job well. It's a dangerous job, and Shane knew they were cut out as soon as they were the first ones to step forward and volunteer to do the job.
Shane looks over his shoulder briefly at the trio before focusing back on the road. "Where am I dropping you tonight?" he asks. "Anyone move since last night? I know it was busy on the streets this morning... Good time to mix in the crowds and have no worries about getting caught."
"Most of them moved," the man in the blue and white mask says. "Some of them thought they were hearing people walking around in the Far Rockaway station at three in the morning. No one wanted to stick around and figure out if they were with Stephanie. They found safety in the bomb shelter under Broadway. They're setting up their apartments in the cells. I imagine it'll be a lot more roomy than having to sleep in crevices in the "
Shane sighs under his breath. "That's safer than the stations, I'll tell you that," he says. "Broadway it is. Hope it stays safe there... If they can find their secret society once, there's nothing to stop them from looking for their new one."
The superstar in the green and red mask presses his lips together and nods. "Maybe not. But I know they'll be prepared if the society gets stormed. I have faith," he points out. "They know how to fight for show, they can fight for protection. Besides, they clearly know when it's time to move. No one's willing to take risks when it could be their lives."
The most restless of the trio in back, the only one with light hair, adjusts his yellow and orange mask uncomfortably, pulling his hood a little further over his eyes. "You hear, McMahon?" he says. "A lot of them are trying to get out of here. Getting on a bus during the day and going as far as they can. Soon as the bus drops them, they're running. They're going by foot as long as they have to. Never looking back." He shrugs, shaking his head. "Don't blame 'em, though. Once they're out of here, they're safe. No one will go looking for them if they go far enough."
"He's right," the red and green mask says. "I hear the Wyatt Family's somewhere in the woods. The woods. I can only imagine what a good place they're in if they've made it to the woods."
Shane can't help but grin. "Doesn't surprise me. They're a smart group of men. Always have been," he says. "Just hope anyone else looking to escape can follow in their footsteps. Stay quiet, out of sight, and move quickly." He averts his eyes up to look at the night sky, a velvety indigo glittered with stars, just to be sure the choppers haven't begun their rounds. "If everything goes right and everyone's able to get somewhere safe, maybe one day we'll be able to have a shot at getting home."
Behind the blue and white mask, a smile tugs at the very corners of the gentleman's lips, but doesn't make it very far. "It'd be nice to go home, hm?" he says. "Live a normal life. Not have to worry about where we'll be sleeping, when we need to get moving... Who's gonna get hurt." Though his smile never fades, he sighs gently. "It's alright. Right now, we've got a job to do. Keep the others safe. Help whoever we can get away with their lives."
Shane chuckles. "Knew I picked the right trio to help me out."
When he's at the right place - the bomb shelter on Broadway street marked with the black and yellow radiation sign against a brick wall - Shane parks the car, but never shuts off the engine.
"This is your stop, boys," he says. "Do what you do best: protect and serve. I know you won't disappoint me."
"Will do, McMahon," the blue and white mask says with a dip of the chin.
Yellow and orange cocks his head. "Where you gonna be?" he asks.
Shane points down the road. "Usual place. Back of this truck amongst the other armored vehicles," he says.
With a sigh, green and red shakes his head. "Still don't condone you doing that, McMahon," he says. "Doesn't sound safe to me."
Shane brushes it off with a chuckle. "It is risky, I acknowledge it," he says. "But it's a good place to keep watch of where they're going. Lets me know if I gotta get you guys up and out before they can find you. I never leave the truck, and I never sleep, so it's easy to get going on short notice. You'll know if they've got me - trust me, they'll be flaunting around my dead body on a stake." His expression grows much more serious, and much more grim. "And you know what to do if that happens."
Yellow and orange cocks his head to the other side. "Yeah. Pretty sure I know," he says.
Shane just chuckles, shaking his head and looking to the other two. "Remind him if he forgets," he says. "Stay safe tonight. I'll see you tomorrow at sunset."
On that note, the trio climbs out of the back of the truck, and watch carefully as Shane drives away, slightly over the speed limit to make sure he gets into position before the choppers start their excursion. The trio heads on into the bomb shelter, making sure no one's following them. As soon as the coast is clear, they open the door just enough, slip in, then close it just as quickly. No one is allowed to see their hiding place, not even an ordinary civilian, in fear of who they might really be working for. No risks will be taken.
"Quiet tonight," yellow and orange points out, voice low.
"Creepy quiet," red and green agrees. "Guess it's precaution for worst-case scenario... If Stephanie's men somehow found this place. Best to make sure it that absolutely no one knows where they are before treating this place like home."
Blue and white sighs, shoulders dropping. "Sad. No one even remembers what started the dystopia," he says. "They're just used to living in it. Busy days, trying to get stuff done before night falls. Abandoned city at night in fear of death." He gives his head a shake to brush off the sudden sadness. "Alright. Let's see what's going on around here."
Side by side, the trio begins to walk into the brick hallways to find their colleagues and friends, staying on the lookout for any bright orange flags tied outside of any living quarters: a sign that someone's in need of assistance. Even if there aren't any, it's still best to check on those who previously needed help, or those who have kids to look after.
Seeing as it's now safe, and their identities are protected by the closed door of the bomb shelter, the trio shakes the hoodies from their heads, and pulls their masks from their face. Two of the men fling their championship belts over their shoulder - their one possessions left from when WWE existed.
The three men are none other than the unshakable tag team known as The Shield.
Roman Reigns, Seth Rollins, and Dean Ambrose.