Along Came an Enigma

A.N. - Hey everyone, TwistingVisions here. I really really really hope you like this story. I've had this muse for a while, so, here goes nothing! Please feel free to review and let me know what you think so far. ^^; I usually update sporadically, so let's see how this goes!

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He was there again. In darkness. Nothing but darkness and a faint noise surrounded his unconscious mind. What the noise was, he had absolutely no idea, and maybe he would be better off not knowing. He knew he was unconscious. How, you ask? Because he could still see his body as clear as day, despite being surrounded by nothing but a thick, heavy blackness. Despite this current state, this was nothing new to him. This was his reoccurring dream, which he had been having ever since he was a small boy. For what reason, he did not know. Maybe it was his mind's way of escaping his hell of a life, or an escape from the 'normal' state his mind was in when he was awake. After a while of floating in the dark, the usual burst of light flooded his unconscious vision, signaling that it was time to awaken.

Philip Brooks, more so known around the ward as Punk (conveniently so), inhaled sharply, groaned viciously, and pulled the covers over his eyes, just as he did each morning when he was rudely awoken by the familiar blast of light, which was always flipped on by the same nurse. See, Punk had made a vow when he was very young that he would never hit women. Although recently, he had seriously been tempted to make an exception for this hag, who not only drug his mind from a blissful unconscious state each day, but always seemed to want to piss him off by calling the young man by his birth name, which he absolutely loathed.

"Philip! Time to get your ass out of bed. I would like to avoid a pointless confrontation with you today, if at all possible," the nurse screeched while incessantly flipping the lights on and off.

Punk was one of the patients known around the ward for his smart ass behavior and short temper, which did not mix well with most of the staff. Letting out a loud hiss, he violently threw the thin covers from his body and onto the cold wooden floor. As he quickly sat up in nothing but a pair of gray plaid pajama pants, his dangerously dark, olive eyes locked with the bored brown ones of the hag, who was standing next to the light switch with an apathetic expression on her wrinkled face. His olive eyes sent imaginary daggers through the nurse's mind as he reached up to fix his not quite shoulder length black hair, which was still frizzy from rolling around in his sleep.

"If you truly wish to avoid confrontation today, I feel as if my ass would be much better if it were kept warm, in this here bed," Punk spat as he rolled his eyes. The young male reached over to the bedside table and grabbed his lip ring, which he was forced to take out every night, and promptly placed it back where it belonged; on his lip.

The nurse rolled her eyes and let out an exasperated sigh. "Yeah, I bet you would like that, wouldn't you, Phil?"

Oh, that was it. He was tired of this shit. He stood abruptly and, in the blink of an eye, was across the white room to the door, where he promptly slammed his hand on the wall about six inches away from the hag's ear, smirking when the loud bang caused the nurse's eyes to widen considerably.

"Listen, bitch," snarled Punk, leaning closely so his lips were almost against the woman's ear. "I'm really not in the mood for your stupidity today. So, if you would like to avoid dying a slow and painful death, which I can arrange with help from some others, I suggest you get out of here so I can get ready on my own time. Are we clear?"

This nurse, not one to be easily intimidated, tried with all of her remaining confidence to appear unfazed. Little did she know, that the crazy tattooed man in front of her could smell her fear from a mile away, which only drove him further into what was considered a full blown God complex. Punk wanted and needed control over everyone who crossed his path, needed to be better then them. In his mind, he was. He was straight edge, after all.

"Get out of my sight," he ordered. "I'll be out when I want."

The nurse looked as if she was ready to retort, but thought better of it when she noticed Punk's eyes darken significantly. So, instead, she sent a smug smirk his way, then slipped out the door quickly.

Satisfied with the turn of events, said tattooed male let out a satisfied, almost sinister laugh as he shook his head and headed into the small room's bathroom, more than ready for a shower. It wasn't even the feeling of being dirty that made showers something that Punk loved. It was his time to think. The only time where the sound of the flowing water helped his mind settle and he could have a bit of peace.

The straight edge young man quickly stripped and walked into the small shower, immediately running the scalding hot water. A sense of peace quickly overtook his normally stressed out mind and body. As the water began to run cold, his mind started to wander to a not so pleasant place like it always did at this time. It was the world of flashbacks and future nightmares from his previous outside life. And, just like always, he let the memories flood his mind. It was his form of punishment to himself. He deserved every horrid memory he saw.

Deciding that he had enough when he noticed that his fingers were going numb from the freezing water, Punk quickly shampooed his dark hair and shut off the water, his mind still racing. His now glazed olive eyes glanced down at his fingers, which were shaking along with the rest of his body. Yeah, he should have stayed in bed today. Already, he could tell that this day was going to suck, major.

Shaking his head with a small scowl on his face, Punk stepped out of the shower and dried off his body, leaving his hair to air dry. He slipped on some clean boxers and then a pair of black and red plaid pajama pants, along with a black muscle shirt. He didn't see the point on dressing up in jeans and a regular t-shirt everyday. They were constricting, plus he wasn't allowed out of the damn hospital, so why would he consider wearing normal clothes? He wasn't normal. No one here was.

Punk sighed heavily as he trudged his way back into the small room past the second bed. He never got why he had been given a room with two beds. It wasn't like the doctors were stupid enough to give him a roommate after what happened last time they tried. Now that had been a disaster which almost ended in a bloodbath and did end in deep psychological scarring for the other man caused by yours truly. Punk chuckled mirthlessly at the fond memory, slightly hoping that someday, he could possibly repeat the actions of that time. He had been needing an outlet.

Throwing last night's pajamas into the basket on the floor, he slipped on a pair of sandals that the hospital gave him and lazily trudged out into the main hallway. He had a therapy session this morning and he was late, but he really didn't give a damn. It's not like they could punish him in any effective way that they hadn't already tried. It would end in futility, and Punk made sure all of the doctors that had dared cross his path knew that.

As of now, the young, raven haired male was slowly making his way to said therapy session, dreading what sort of topic that the group may be covering today. He was half way to the room when he heard hushed voices coming from inside the nurse's station. For the sake of stalling his arrival at the session, he slowed his pace considerably, trying his best to listen in to the conversation.

"He's coming in sometime today I heard."

"You mean the new boy? The one that they said was.."

"Yes, that's the kid. Poor boy. Did you hear who they might make him room with?"

The two voices went silent for a minute before Punk heard one of them speak up again.

"You don't mean... him? They're thinking on rooming him with..."

"The one and only. They think it might be good for the guy. With all his anger issues and whatnot."

"But.. Don't they remember the last time they tried to put someone in a room with him?"

"That's what I tried to bring up, but they wouldn't let me. They think it may be good for him, maybe even simmer him down a bit. This new kid is a special case."

"I highly doubt that."

That was all Punk needed to hear. With a large scowl on his face and his fists clenched almost to the point of his fingernails drawing blood from his palms, said male stormed the rest of the way down the hall and stomped to a halt in front of the clear glass door in front of the therapy room. If he had heard correctly, and he always did, what he had overheard was a plan set in motion to try and get someone to room with him. He was not fond of the idea, at all. Knowing the staff of doctors, which of the majority hated his guts, the new kid they were talking about would be someone as equally angry and pissed off at the world as he was. The kid may even have a 'holier than thou' complex, as he himself did most of the time.

Punk shook his head and let out a few labored breaths, trying to get his mind and growing anger under control before he would go in and sit with the rest of the group. After a minute, he forcefully swung open the glass door, causing all eyes to fall on him. He smirked widely, loving the attention as he glanced around at the familiar faces in the room.

His olive eyes first fell on, who he would consider his best friend in this place, a man by the name of Kofi Kingston, who was currently, as always, curled up in the corner. The African American man had long, stringy hair that reached down to his shoulders and was adorned in white clothes, which made his skin appear even darker than it normally appeared.

Punk's eyes then drifted over to the circle of chairs in the center of the room, which were vacated by other men. The first man his eyes fell upon, he couldn't miss. An almost gigantic Irishman, who's skin was so white one would think the man could blend in to the wall. Sheamus, as he was known, had fiery, spiked up red hair. Punk also considered this man as an equally close friend, for the Irishman was also known for having anger management issues and had the same views as he did on most subjects. Although the red head was known for almost barbaric actions most of the time, Punk was known for stealthy and psychological torture. They both complimented each other very very well in the long run, and that was their bond. Violence and manipulation.

Another man sat next to Sheamus, a man not as big big, but was definitely not to be underestimated. The man's name... Randy Orton, yet another patient known for not only anger, but for a certain type of cunning anger, ranging on the border of multiple personality disorder. The man had sleeve tattoos that were hardly noticeable against his deep, tanned skin. It was said that behind the man's onyx eyes, there were voices. Voices that caused the normally gentle man to suddenly snap multiple times, with no reason. Because of his quick reactions and venomous nature, he was conveniently nicknamed The Viper. Some have said that when angered, Orton would let out an insane hiss, which resembled a viper. None of the other patients had heard it with their own ears, but everyone always heard multiple doctors talking about The Viper's hissing.

Now, what made Punk smirk in amusement were the two young kids who were cowering behind Randy. Little Cody Rhodes and Ted DiBiase. They were known as Randy's bitches around the hospital, always hiding behind the larger man and doing his bidding. Punk always loved messing with their minds, which were so easily molded and twisted by his powerful words. While Ted was dirty blond and sometimes defiant, Cody was a brunette and totally under Randy's influence. They were sweet enough boys, but their dull minds easily made them puppets to everyone's whims.

And finally, out of this small group of men and boys, sat the last of them. Darkening olive eyes met the equally darkening blue eyes of a short haired brunette. The man's name... John Cena. John freaking Cena. See, this man was the favorite of all the doctors. He never got in trouble, and he would manage to suck up to every single person in authority. If one were to see how the large, muscular man acted, they would always ask themselves why he was in a place like this. Well, Punk knew the answer to that. Cena was known among the other patients as more of a thug. He would verbally insult the patients he didn't like using freestyle rapping. Punk would always laugh and do a little, what he liked to call pipe bomb, of his own, which would always stop the larger man's rampage. Needless to say, Cena and Punk never got along, in fact, they absolutely loathed each other.

Deciding to keep the smirk on his pierced lips, Punk nodded his greeting to everyone, tearing his eyes away from Cena's as he made his way over to his usual spot next to Kofi in the corner. The tattooed man plopped down next to the African native, his smug smirk turning into more of a smooth smile as he crossed his legs. He and Kofi never got in trouble for not paying attention during the session, mostly because they were more each others' therapists. Plus the two got along so well that no one dared interrupt them.

"Hey there, Mr. Kofi Kingston," he said, just above a whisper as not to startle the disturbed man. "Anything new today?"

Kofi slowly lifted his head from his curled up position and let a small smile stretch his lips as he recognized his best friend's face. "H-Hey Phil," he slowly let out. "N-Nothing new to r-report."

Instead of becoming extremely upset and going on a tirade and table flipping frenzy, Punk just let his smile grow. Kofi was one of the few human beings alive besides his family that he allowed to call him by his birth name. The poor man was a special case, and Punk was just happy that he was the only person that Kofi would recognize everyday without a reminder of some sort. If he were to be perfectly honest, he truly thought the world of the African American man. The doctors said that Punk was the first person to ever fully reach Kofi's mind, and that was something special.

Punk slowly lifted his tattooed hand to rest on top of his friend's dark, non-inked hand, making sure Kofi saw his hand first. "Anything happen I should know about? Are they treating you better yet?"

That caused the darker man to tense up a little bit, which Punk could feel. He instantly regretted asking that question, because the obvious answer was no. His eyes filled with a mix of hatred and sadness as he let out a long sigh.

"Kofi, man, I told you to always come and get me when that shit starts. You can't let this keep happening." He paused a minute before continuing, his heart heavy. "I can't lose you again, man. How am I supposed to protect you when you don't come to me?"

Small tears made their way down Kofi's cheeks as he listened to Punk's words. He always carried that day around with him in his mind. He had felt horrible for letting Punk down, and he would always blame himself.

"I-I'm s-sorry.." he squeaked out. "I d-didn't m-mean t-to.."

Punk would have none of that. Letting out a worried sigh, he softly wiped away the tears streaming down his best friend's cheeks, then proceeded to wrap his arms around Kofi's frame.

"Don't go there, Kofi. Don't start blaming yourself again." He dared not speak above a whisper as he rubbed Kofi's back gently. "It was not your fault, do you understand me?"

As he felt the other nod, Punk couldn't help the bubbling anger begin to rise in himself again. Some of the things they put Kofi through at this place just made his blood boil. He had tried multiple times to get the doctors responsible fired, but there was never any proof. Damn, did that royally piss him off.

Punk took a long breath before unwrapping his arms from Kofi's shoulders. "Kofi... Look at me."

When Kofi didn't respond, Punk tilted his own head before lifting Kofi's chin with his index finger gently. "It's going to be alright, I promise. As long as you tell me when it happens, I'll keep you safe. Okay?"

Kofi let a small, sad smile adorn his features as he quickly nodded to Punk's statement. "O-Okay. Th-thank you.."

"Nah, don't mention it buddy. We're best friends forever, right?"

"Y-Yeah... f-forever.."

As soon as things seemed to be settling down, both men flinched at the sound of loud crashing. While Kofi just curled up into a ball and hid his face, Punk searched for the origin of the sound. He then noticed that the large table in the room had been flipped over and shoved against the wall. Standing over that table was none other than Sheamus, his wild blue eyes wide, his teeth gritted, his breathing heavy, and his face almost as red as his hair. To top everything all off, he was staring directly at...

Randy.

Oh great, this is gunna be good, Punk thought sarcastically. He protectively wrapped his arms around Kofi, trying to convey some sort of peace to the troubled man. He just hoped this would end soon. He really didn't feel like making them apologize for disturbing Kofi. Again.

"I swear, if ya value yer life, fella, then I'd appreciate if ya stopped starin at me!" Sheamus roared.

That just made Randy cackle. "And what if I don't, great white? You gunna come and rip the eyes out of my head?"

"I just might, snake!"

"Oh, I'd absolutely love to see you try."

"I don't have ta try, fella. It'd be the easiest thing in the world ta do."

As he felt Kofi begin shaking horribly, Punk decided not to stand for this shit today. He already had a horrible start to the day, he really didn't need this too. He quickly patted Kofi's shoulder and stood up, abruptly making his way over to the scuffle and placing himself in between Sheamus and Randy.

"Hey! Both of you better knock it off! You're upsetting Kofi, for Christ's sake! And I had JUST gotten him to have a good start to the day!"

There was a dead silence before soft, muffled sobs could be heard. Everyone in the room, including the now terrified therapist, cast a glance to the curled up form of Kofi in the corner. Said African American was shaking terribly, his head buried in his knees, with his arms covering his head. The sight would have instantly calmed anyone down, and it did. Even Sheamus's angry face had softened significantly.

Punk glanced towards his best friend in the corner, then up to the huge Irishman standing in front of him. "Sheamo," he whispered affectionately. "Kofi's fragile, you have to remember that. Besides." He cast an anger-filled glance towards the Viper. "Orton's not worth anything. Even his family thinks so."

If it weren't for Kofi's muffled cries, Punk would have guessed that the Viper would have jumped him right then and there. Those shifty, venomous eyes confirmed Punk's thoughts. Smirking smugly at Randy, Punk quickly grabbed Sheamus's hand and drug him away from the scene and over to Kofi. He knew the large Irishman had anger problems, but when he burst out every morning, it got more annoying than alarming.

Letting go of Sheamus's hand, Punk quickly plopped down next to Kofi once more, sitting cross legged and wrapping an arm around the crying man's shoulders once more.

"Kofi..?" Punk whispered. "C'mon man, it's all fine now. It's all over. Sheamus even came over to apologize, see?" He gently lifted Kofi's arms, which the darker man was still using to shield his head, along with Kofi's chin. "This big lug here didn't mean anything. He's harmless."

Sheamus knelt down in front of Kofi, his sparkling blue eyes meeting Kofi's swollen brown eyes. Despite his barbaric nature, the large man had one of the biggest hearts anyone could imagine, although he only allowed Punk and Kofi to ever see that side of him.

"Oi, fella," Sheamus whispered. "I feel horrible. I didn't mean ta scare ya. Orton was just gettin

under me skin. Do ya forgive me?"

Kofi just stared silently at Sheamus for a good minute before letting a timid smile come onto his face. He nodded slowly, never breaking the eye contact.

Sheamus smiled heartily at this. He leaned forward and pressed a small kiss to the smaller man's forehead as a sign of gratefulness. "Ah, you're the best, fella."

Punk was smirking widely and enjoying the moment before he heard the room door open and close quickly. His olive eyes darkened as he noticed it was one of the doctors he had overheard talking in the office a bit earlier, his face instantly scowling. Doctor Helmsley was his name. He was huge, despite being a doctor. There were few patients who dared mess with him.

"Punk. Come with me. It's time to meet your new roommate."

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A.N. - Dun dun dunnnnnn. Here we go, kids. More of everyone's pasts will be revealed throughout the story. As for poor Kofi, his condition and circumstances should be revealed soon, I promise. An important note, this story will mostly take place through Punk's point of view. Only when it fits will I show Jeff's. And I promise, we shall have our dear Jeffro in the next chapter. Oh, and one more thing. I'm having trouble coming up with a name for the hospital, so if anyone has any suggestions, feel free to PM me. Well, for now, Asta la Pasta!