Chapter 2: Break

Ten of these ~ is a time change

Four of these • is a pov change

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the wrestlers mentioned in this story, or anything pertaining to WWE and TNA. I am well aware that the ages of the wrestlers in this fic don't match the time period of the fic. (I found it more sympathetic and believable for them to be younger, and that they'd garner more pity with a greater age difference.) I also moved AJ and Punk's marriage up a year. It was necessary to my story. Sue me. Violence, disturbing torture, blood, angst, language, slash, smut, non-con/rape (in later chapters).

A/N: Again, still new at this, reviews appreciated.

SONG: BREAK BY THREE DAYS GRACE

I wake up to a dull, throbbing pain in my head and soft laughter. My immediate thought is that the laugh I heard before I blacked out sounded a lot like… But it can't be…

"Oh good, you're awake."

Groaning quietly, I peel my eyes open, and as I try to wipe them I find my hands are secured behind my back. I clumsily try to blink the blood out so I can see without the luxury of being able to use my arms. Cold realization creeps over me and I realize I am completely and totally screwed. I was right about the laugh, but I didn't want to be. I recognize that voice. That's the voice I owe my entire career in WWE to. I got my first real chance from that voice. We were so close, he can't be behind this.

"Paul," I start cautiously, but gain speed as panic sets in, "what's going on? I thought we were friends! You aren't buying into all that McMahon storyline bullshit now, are you? What the hell is going on?"

"All in due time, Punk. All in due time," replies the Paulrus.

Tonight my head is spinning, I need something to pick me up. I've tried, but nothing is working. I won't stop, I won't say I've had enough.

I glare at who I had thought was a good friend and begin to survey my surroundings. The chair I'm sitting in, with my hands cuffed at an uncomfortable angle behind my back and my feet taped to the legs, is in the middle of the room, and I can't see behind me. There's still fresh blood running down my face, I'm sure he's split my head now. I'm in a basement with stairs in the upper right corner. Little light comes through the crude lighting fixtures around the room. Light bulbs hanging from wires, four total, allow me to see Paul and a table in one of the corners that the light doesn't reach. I repeat each of these observations in my head, trying to ground myself and fight off hysteria. The feeling that there's more in the room is at the front of my mind, but my vision is still foggy from whatever I've been drugged with and I can't make out much of anything else. I shift my hands in an attempt to alleviate the ache in my shoulders but the damn cuffs just rub against my already raw wrists. The stinging pain makes me grimace, but as I clench my fists I run my thumb over my fingers and notice something missing. Paul smirks from ear to ear as panic drains my face.

"Missing something?" I rub them again in disbelief.

"Paul, you didn't." He reaches in his pocket.

"Actually, I think I did. Looking for this?" He holds my wedding ring up to the light. My blood turns to ice. I don't know how to approach this. On one hand, I am pissed the hell off. On the other, I'm the guy tied up and he's the guy in charge. One wrong move on my part and my ring is as good as gone.

"Paul…"

"Yes?" I swallow my pride for now.

"Please give me my ring back."

"But I'm so enjoying watching you squirm." Breathe.

Tonight, I start the fire, tonight, I break away.

"You know how much that means to me."

"You're right, I do. That's why I don't want to give it back. I'd like to take every opportunity to mess with you, and I think that holding this over your head is a great way." I swallow hard, I may be making a huge mistake.

"I'll do anything."

"Is that so?"

"Yes." He walks towards me, around and behind, inches away from my hands. Inside I'm freaking out, but outside I'm trying to appear somewhat calm.

"You know I can see right through you, so you might as well stop acting like you're okay. I know this is killing you." I try to crane my neck to see him and my ring. He rolls it between his fingers. "Yeah, I bet poor AJ is wondering where you are." He's trying to piss me off, and bringing my wife into this is a damn good way to do that. He knows how important she is to me. I talked about her nonstop to him while we were together.

"Paul…" I say again, almost pleadingly.

"Shh," he says, patting me on the head like a dog. "I've got an idea."

I swallow hard. The guy knows me like the back of his hand. If anyone knew how to construct my own private hell, it's him. The thing is though, I also know Heyman better than anyone. And I know that Paul will have an insurance policy in the form of one of his "guys". He doesn't stand a chance against me by himself, and he can't do much damage even if I can't defend myself, which seems to be the case. I also know Paul will have a purpose for keeping me captive, and it's not going to be good.

"What is it you want from me, Paul?" I say it boredly. Anything I can do not to let on how freaked out I am.

"Impatient, aren't we?"

He grabs my hair and yanks it back, hard. My anger boils over and I bare my teeth, rattling the cuffs behind me, trying to get free. "You're not going to get out, you might as well save your energy and give up on that. Since you need to know so badly, I'll let you in on a little secret. I'm going to break you." He says menacingly, but maintains a smirk as he dangles my ring above my head.

Break! Away from everybody! Break! Away from everything! If you can't stand the way this place is, take yourself to higher places.

My eyes widen in shock. What did he just say? Heyman knows how strong-willed I am, and if he thinks what he's going to do will break me, he might be right. I shudder at the thought.

"Aww, does the 'best in the world' have a cold?" Asks a squeaky voice.

My blood freezes. Shit. Shit, shit, shit. I'm screwed. I'm so screwed. It was obvious that there would be a Heyman guy. But I was hoping against hope it wouldn't be him. I don't need to see him, I know that voice. The Beast Incarnate, Brock Lesnar. If I wasn't before, I'm definitely in for it now. Brock might as well bash my ring with a hammer, because it's that far gone. Leaning my head back, I close my eyes, taking a deep breath. I remember the match I had with Lesnar at Summerslam, and the beating I had taken at the hands of the Beast. And if that wasn't bad enough, back then I had been able to defend myself. Now I can't. I'm wide open and completely vulnerable.

At night, I feel like a vampire. It's not right, but I just can't give it up. I'll try to get myself higher, let's go, we're gonna light it up.

Questions I won't be given the answer to run rapid-fire through my head. How much time has passed from when I was jumped at the hotel? Who jumped me? It sure as hell wasn't Heyman. I just fought Lesnar, I would've known if it was him. Was it a hired gun? Is Paul working with someone else who wants to get rid of me? Will I live to have another wrestling match at all? Bringing my head back slowly to look at Heyman, I try not to think about the things Lesnar can do to me now that I'm powerless to stop him.

Tonight, I start the fire, tonight, I break away!

I ignore Lesnar's obviously mocking question, and try to pretend the Beast isn't there. That's not easy with a human torture device staring daggers at me across the basement. Instead, I try to rationalize why Paul is doing this.

"You're going to break me? I thought we were friends, Paul, why the hell do you have me tied up in a creepy basement with your friend who's already beat me within a couple inches of my life? Were you worried I wasn't going to stay down after yesterday? You had to know I wouldn't."

Break! Away from everybody! Break! Away from everything! If you can't stand the way this place is, take yourself to higher places.

"You have such a strong spirit." He looks me up and down. "Seems to be the only strong thing about you, besides your ego. I'm going to have a lot of fun breaking it." He ignores my frantic questions. He casts a maniacal smile at Lesnar. "Would you do the honors, Brock?" With a sneer the Beast Incarnate rears back and punches me square in the jaw. I barely even have the time to notice the brass knuckles before I'm knocked out cold.

Take yourself to higher places…

A/N: So tell me, did you see Heyman and Brock coming?