Not happy with the pace of this at all but I'm doing this without a Beta so it'll have to do for now!
"How dumb do you have to be to get caught twice by Roman?" Paige questioned, a bandage prepped and ready to be placed on Dean's cheek. The man in question wrinkled his nose, winced at the spike of pain that shot up the bridge, and decided against speaking back to the younger woman. "I mean we all know you have a thing for him or whatever, but when he catches you he's always going to go in for the kill—not the kiss."
There was a television on somewhere nearby, probably in the break room. The sound of it trailed down the empty hallways of the Authority headquarters. No one really hung around after ten. Not unless they had reasons unrelated to whatever cover job they managed or were part of the inner circle. An infomercial enthusiastically declared the life changing effects of a lint roller that could be bought for such a cheap and low price they may a well be giving it away for free. Randy felt like he was developing a headache.
"I do not have a thing!" The man finally snarled, heat crawling up the side of his neck and coloring his ears a light shade of red. Paige smirked in return and slapped the bandaid onto his face with a resounding smack.
"You don't really have room to talk about injuries." Randy reminded the woman, amusement only stretching so far at watching the trio's antics.
"What injuries?" Paige smugly grinned up at him, the movement crinkling her puffed up black eye, displaying cracked lips and teeth stained red. Bo made a concerned noise somewhere behind her and Randy would bet anything he was already pulling together a makeshift kit to attend to the pale girl.
"What about you, big man?" Ambrose snarked. He had leaned back against the cool walls of the locker room. Technically this was only meant to be a shower room for when employees worked up a sweat but it was common knowledge that patching up within the comforting metallic walls was preferable to being stuck in the sterile holding cell called an infirmary. "Newbie did a number on ya'."
Whoever was in control of the television remote was now channel surfing at an annoyingly fast rate. The throbbing in his head intensified.
Dean certainly knew how to sour a situation. A frown had already slipped free in response; too late to pretend that he was unbothered by the comment. For a moment the only sound that echoed through the nearly empty room was water dripping from shower heads to the damp tiled floor. Randy liked making people wait for his words, enough time and it unsettled people and made them question their own statements. Unfortunately, Ambrose was a continued exception to the rule. The man hardly ever seemed to think twice about the garbled up junk that came out of his mouth. Bo uncomfortably cleared his throat, eyes flicking between their tensed forms. He was clearly unwilling to move to attend to Paige before the situation had settled, not wanting to draw attention to himself. Not yet, at least.
"He got lucky." Randy finally drawled and allowed his body to unwind into a lazier stance, "Won't be happening again."
The television settled on the evening news. Randy could make out the annoying tones of the one and only Miz, live and on sight of...something. Whatever he was saying wasn't striking Randy as entirely good but then Miz never did commentate on things people like him benefited from.
"Lucky, he says." Dean snorted, "Sure didn't look like luck to me."
"Maybe if you had payed attention to your own big problem instead of watching Randy's ass you wouldn't of needed to be helped." Paige shot back.
Sometimes Randy really did appreciate the girl.
Dean huffed, clearly uncomfortable now that the group seemed to be ganging up on him. While the man certainly thrived in unrealistic odds during combat, he wasn't so eloquent with words and disliked arguing with more than one person at once. It was a weakness often exploited by Randy—among others. But then, they were supervillains so such behavior was expected.
"Enough small talk. I'm going home." Randy grunted and scooped up his belongings. His uniform would need a good washing after its hellish encounter with water, blood, and unforgiving roads, and sometime soon he'd have to explain to Hunter how exactly they'd manage to fail such an easy mission. God, he didn't have time for that douche.
"...the scene of crime! Inside sources are saying that the only and only Authority, including the big time Viper, met their match today by none other than, well, what looks to be a drug addict with an infatuation for space."
Any progress made towards the door halted with the noise from the TV finally reaching his ears. He froze, expression stilling in a detached, unnerving way that instantly set the others on edge. His hand remained hovering before the cracked door, not yet ready to place itself on the knob. If Miz was reporting on the afternoon's events then that meant the rest of the city would follow. Which meant everyone would know about this and get to see their-his-televised failure.
Sleep. He was definitely going to sleep.
The headquarters for the Authority wasn't broadcasted as blatantly nefarious. Many would go so far as to say that it looked more like a large office than anything. A place where business could be conducted efficiently with a few beneficial rooms for its dedicated employees. It boasted a gym, a cafeteria, overnight rooms if absolutely necessary, and a lounge. Each floor was lavished with comfortable but modern furniture and economically friendly lighting. Plants-there were lots of plants too. Honestly the place faded into the background of the city considering how loud color schemes and architecture-personalities could get. But that was the point, probably.
Compared to the arena masquerading as a strong house for the WWE, the Authority seemed small time. Randy liked it. Or he thought he did. He didn't absolutely hate it so he figured that was enough in his books to mark the building down as somewhere he wouldn't be inclined to avoid.
Sometimes Randy went home to his small apartment and watered his cacti. Sometimes he avoided the location for weeks and just camped inside the familiar confines of his workplace. Barrett liked to remark that depending on where he found him sleeping he could guess if something was badgering him or not. Randy thought that was bullshit and vocalized his opinion often but Barrett had yet remained to be deterred.
The Bad News himself had caught wind of the entire bank fiasco-though nearly everyone else had as well-and found the ordeal entirely too amusing. He made sure to quip when he could around his vast intake of alcohol on the fifth of July. The fourth, for Randy, had been spent avoiding any and all human beings, but he couldn't skip work for longer than twenty four hours. Barrett lamented his absence and seemed to decide that he would celebrate for Orton's loss on missing such an important holiday by drinking enough for the both of them. The Englishman always did like a good party, even if it meant celebrating the, "birth of all Americans", as he was fond of putting it.
"Maybe he's a ghost."
"Perhaps those voices of your are evolving, eh?"
"Someone has a crush."
It was a waste of time to spend any effort on a drunk and disorderly coworker, but Randy was resentful enough towards the unnecessary comments to at the very least send Wade tripping over himself and headfirst into a wall when the remarks became annoying.
"Was that really necessary?"
From his position hovering above the lanky man it seemed very necessary. Randy smiled down at him, a warning expression that spoke volumes of his ill temper.
"You look better down there. Makes your nose look smaller."
Said nose was currently bleeding profusely and making a mess of Wade's hand and shirt. Barrett, at least, seemed calm enough about the way his nose had turned into a faucet and was more interested in making a show of sulking in a very aggressive manner. The angle of his beak had Randy betting it was broken.
"I think you broke it, you prick."
Bingo.
His smile grew toothier at the admission, though he did relent long enough to toss a tissue box off a random desk and at Wade's face. The other man barely caught it in time, fumbling it with his bloody hand and generally making a larger mess of things. Wade had always been good at that.
"I don't understand why you care so much." Barrett grumbled while he tried to stop his nostrils up, voice raised to a more nasally pitch once plugged, "He's obviously just stealing Goldust's—or whatever his name is—gimmick."
Attempting to uncover information on the strange newcomer had proven to be next to impossible. Randy had been determined and alone with a laptop for an entire day but no one seemed to know his name, his origins, anything. It was as though the kid had climbed out of a cave and decided to join society to partake in a life of fighting crime after watching one too many action movies. The entire week was shaping up to be frustrating, especially after a reluctant phone call with Hunter himself (as always it ended with Hunter being Right about Everything and Randy being forced to metaphorically wank the man off since no one got to argue with Triple H).
He'd had suspicions after even shooting an e-mail to Bray Wyatt proved to be futile-though the man became notoriously bad with faces when he bounced from obsession to obsession-that the hero wasn't actually a hero but more of a vigilante. Something like that wasn't completely unheard of when certain people struggled to play nice with either side. Randy knew for a fact that Punk was still somewhere out there, bashing heads and being a general nuisance, and that Lee girl did small time work on the side. Still, the occupation was too uncommon enough and seemed bizarrely implausible from his brief impression.
Barrett's comment stopped Randy in his mental and literal tracks, halting him from abandoning the other man for better company. Or no company at all. That was definitely preferable. Wade made another disgruntled noise and his sulky expression grew more pained from the ache that was setting in.
"Goldust?" He repeated.
"Yeah." Barrett groaned and leaned against the wall, angling his head towards the ceiling, "Wears ridiculous amounts of make-up and costume accessories? Doesn't ever really talk to people, just bites at em'? Your lad sounds like a shoddy rip-off."
Unexpected but intriguing. It'd be surprising if the Bad News was useful for once.
"He work for the Enforcers?"
Wade lets loose a small bark of laughter followed by a wince, "Crazy fool prances around by himself. Word has it he's one of those alien brats."
Now that would definitely narrow down the search. Extraterrestrials were hardly unknown to the public anymore ever since the fiasco of '87 but the world as a whole was still wary of the whole...mysterious otherworldly beings thing. It didn't really make sense given that there were people out there who could literally explode cars with their mind, but governments tried to file every visitor or offspring that set foot on Earthen soil. If this Goldust truly was some sort of non-human he'd be in some sort of record. And then maybe this kid would be too.
Interesting.
"You should get that looked at." Randy inclined his head with a mock serious expression.
"You think I bloody should? How about I give you something to think about so we can be matching, yeah?!"
"Cody! Hey Cody!"
Daniel jerked back at the sudden hiss that followed his words and sheepishly scrambled to correct himself,
"Sorry, uh, Stardust, you up to anything right now?"
Stardust, AKA not Cody, AKA seeker of the ivory enterprise, AKA the fellow currently resembling an agitated bird who'd had its feathers ruffled, peered down at the shorter man, puzzled. He hadn't been in this World Wide Enforcers thing very long but so far he knew for a fact that neatly every person in the building didn't quite care for him. Maybe it was the screaming and the way he buzzed around a room.
Or maybe it was because they were jealous of his face paint. That sounded plausible.
"Stardust...?"
He shifted his focus back to Bryan and stared almost accusingly at the man's meticulously cared for beard. Bryan tried to follow his eyeline and ended up cross eyed and staring down at his nose. The picture he made was vexing. Stardust grimaced.
"What-what is it? What could you possibly need that requires your pursuit of my free time?"
Bryan wilted a little at his tone but then visibly collected himself and bravely continued on with...whatever it was that he seemed resolute to follow through.
"Me and some of the guys were gonna go get something to eat and thought you might wanna join in? You did kind of save the day yesterday."
Ah yes, his first exchange with this Authority. It had been much more fun than he'd thought-definitely high enough on the disaster scale to get reprimanded once the fight was over and violent enough to leave a pattern of bruises up his sides, but entirely satisfying. The man he'd fought had been hilarious, but definitely very, very dangerous. Stardust would fight him or his lackeys again in a heartbeat-hold on, dinner? With other people?
The very idea was incomprehensible. No one wanted to hang out with Stardust, let alone lower their guard enough to eat with him. That would involve them having to do something drastic, such as talk to him. No one liked to talk to Stardust either. Well, Stardust did, but then did that really count? His nose scrunched up in concentration at the thought process and Bryan valiantly forged on with the conversation.
"It's not going to be a big thing. Just some chow at a local diner. You know me, don't like fancy stuff." Uncomfortable laughter followed his statement.
Stardust peered at the other man with wide, unblinking eyes. He did not know Daniel at all, rendering the statement utterly unnecessary and ill placed in such context. But...perhaps it would be nice to eat with someone other than his fish for once. Although, actually, those fish definitely died a week ago. How did he forget that? No wonder his room was starting to smell a little funny. Wait, back to the more important matters. Dinner. Dinner with Daniel Bryan and maybe some other people that hopefully didn't ask intrusive questions or try to call him Cody as well.
"That sounds...acceptable." He slowly replied, still hunched in on himself enough to look like a cornered animal about to bolt. It was a strange change from the persona he took on when in the public eye. Out there he was vibrant and opinionated. In here, in the vast walls of this fortress, he felt...small. Goldust would be laughing his trepidation if he were here, but then Goldust never struggled like he did.
"Great!" Bryan brightened and made as though he were going to grab the taller man's arm, thinking better of it at the last possible second, "You wanna carpool with me?"
An ugly feeling bubbled underneath the surface. It was embarrassment, Stardust knew. He had never received his drivers license (or, wasn't allowed to), not like all the other people on this filthy planet. He was glad in that moment for his paint as Bryan couldn't see his face heat up at the thought.
Instead of words, for once, he nodded in return.
Next time: people do more than stand around talking.