Phenomenal One

Wrestling enthusiasts may recognize the scene and dialogue from the previous chapter. Right before AJ came to WWE, he was unceremoniously tossed out of Bullet Club in New Japan. Kenny initially attacked AJ, later joined by the Young Bucks, and then the rest of the Club. They proceeded to beat the crap out of the helpless AJ and left him lying in the middle the ring. That scene is what set the stage for the opening of Phenomenal One in my head.

As always, a huge thank you to my beta reader, Kiss316. She caught a continuity error that I think many would have found confusing. This is because she is awesome.

Warning: Big spoilers for Legend Killer. If you have not read it, be aware there are direct references to the previous story. Also, there is blood and swearing.

Chapter 1 – The Offer

The icy water swept AJ downstream for at least a mile before he ended up caught in the branches of a dead tree near the center of the wide river. The roots were still clinging to the bank, anchoring the tree against the raging water. Gasping for breath, he tried to pull himself out but he was stuck tight, submerged in the water from his chest down. The water had numbed his body so completely he couldn't feel anything below his chest. The stabbing pain in his skull and the aching cold made it so tempting to just let himself sink back under, but he stubbornly refused to give in. As he lay tangled up in the branches, the strong current tugging insistently at his body, he focused on what he was going to do to Kenny when he caught up to Bullet Club again to motivate himself. He was determined to live solely because he still had former friends to kill. As he struggled, trying to free himself, he sensed something change, like a vibration in the air of an approaching storm. He looked up, blinking a spray of water out of his blue eyes and jumped in surprise. For the first time since the war, AJ Styles felt heart-stopping terror.

Someone was crouching on one of the thick limbs of the downed tree in front of him. It looked like a man wearing a long black coat and a wide-brimmed black hat, the type usually worn formally by undertakers. He had two monstrously big revolvers strapped to his thighs in a classic gunfighter rig. How he got onto that branch AJ had no idea. He might have been squatting by a fire on the open prairie for all the concern he displayed. His face was expressionless even as he cocked his head to the side. Other than that one slight movement, the 'man' didn't move. And he cast no shadow.

The worst part was that AJ recognized him. But the man in front of him was dead. AJ had watched him die, outside of Sharpsburg, Maryland near a small creek called Antietam on a blood-soaked day many years ago. He couldn't help it; he screamed and thrashed at the branches with renewed energy born of sheer panic. But his body was wedged too tight in the branches and the current held him firm. Finally he subsided, panting, almost whimpering in fear. The man had watched him the whole time with no change to his expression. For a long time, they regarded each other. Then AJ gathered up his courage and he said in a hoarse whisper, "You're not him, you can't be."

The being quirked an eyebrow but didn't say anything.

"Christopher Daniels is dead." That earned him a very sharp look but the figure still didn't say anything. "He was killed at Sharpsburg." AJ hoped it was an illusion, that the beating and subsequent near drowning had his mind replaying old horrors. He had seen so many soldiers die but Chris' death had been the worst.

But that hope was killed even as it was born when the man opened his mouth and replied, "I was there," he told AJ. "It was a busy day."

Despite the roar of the river, AJ could hear him clearly. The voice sounded like gravel, a crawling, grinding sound that filled AJ's ears with ghosts and cobwebs. He wanted to clamp his hands over his ears, but he couldn't move. He was frozen like a rabbit before the fox. "Are you here for me?" he asked.

"Yes."

He shuddered, but had to ask, "Am I dead?" He didn't feel dead, but he had never been dead before, so he couldn't know what being dead felt like.

"No, not yet. But you will be very soon." He hesitated then told AJ, "Look down."

Slowly, AJ lowered his gaze. Through the water, he could see the end of one of the branches he was caught on had sunk deep into his abdomen. Bright red blood was swirling away in the current. A strange lassitude was filling him but the rage he carried against Kenny still burned hot. He shook his head, trying to deny it.

"To put it bluntly, you're fucked." The man who wasn't Christopher shifted slightly, his pale green eyes never left AJ.

AJ swore and rested his forehead against a wet branch. He couldn't die, not yet. Not like this.

As if he could read AJ's thoughts, the man asked, "Why do you want to keep living? You're an outlaw, a killer. If you do survive, which is highly unlikely, the only thing waiting for you is a rope."

"It doesn't matter as long as I kill him first." And it didn't. He had been through the War, survived countless shootouts and gun fights and this final betrayal by Bullet Club. He had known his life was always going to end violently. AJ did not fear death but he wasn't ready to die, not yet. Not when Kenny still lived.

"Kill who? It was your entire gang that betrayed you, not just Kenny. Besides, they're long gone, boy. And you've only got a few minutes, at the most."

"You've made your point. So why are you here?" AJ asked bitterly, changing the subject. "Do you get off watching men die?"

"No, I'm here to make you an offer."

"An offer?" AJ repeated, feeling stupid. It was getting hard to think. He was glad he couldn't feel his body. Water sprayed in his face, keeping him awake. What could this thing offer AJ?

"It doesn't have to end like this. You don't have to die here, alone in this river."

"How? Are you going to heal me?" AJ asked skeptically.

The 'man' bared his teeth in a parody of a smile, which was terrifying. "No, I can't do that. But I can give you the strength to survive, if you want."

A chilling thought occurred to AJ. He had been born and raised in the Deep South of Georgia. A deeply religious area. He had to ask. "Are you a demon?"

Incredibly the figure chuckled and shook its head. "Why does everyone think that?" he asked himself.

AJ had no idea what he was talking about. He swallowed, and coughed, tasting blood. "Why are you coming to me now?"

"I'm here because the only thing you want is to kill your former friends. But you can't do that because you're dying."

"Where's your point?" AJ was having a hard time keeping his eyes open. But he stubbornly refused to give in. He adjusted his grip on the slippery branch.

"You're dying, boy. In a matter of minutes, even I won't be able to help you," the man who looked just like Christopher did right before the cannon ball ripped through his lower body paused for a few seconds. His eyes glittered. "Unless you let me in. If you do, I will give you the strength to survive. And to kill everyone who betrayed you."

The fear of the figure in front of him collided with the need for revenge. It was tempting to believe what the man said. But AJ was still wary. "What do you get out of it?" he asked, just as bubble of blood slipped out of his lips.

"You'll work for me when I need you to," he said.

Hearing that, AJ believed him but still hesitated. Darkness creeped into the edges of his vision. He shook his head to clear it but it didn't work.

"Choose quickly, you're out of time."

The memory of Kenny's insane, triumphant eyes flashed through AJ's mind and he knew what he needed to do, for better or for worse. AJ looked the man straight in the eye. "Okay," he said as more blood filled his mouth.

The man smiled and once again AJ shuddered in terror. It wasn't a happy smile, or the reassuring smile of the Chris he had known until that blood-soaked day. This was something else, something powerful had been satisfied. Then the apparition reached out and tapped him in the middle of the forehead. "It's done."

AJ waited several seconds but didn't feel any different. "What now?" he asked, swallowing more blood and coughing. "I'm still stuck here."

"They'll be here soon." The man twisted around and looked towards the far riverbank. "However, it's best if I'm not here when they get here. He's still mad at me."

"Who?" AJ wanted to ask, but he was alone once again. He tried to look around, but all he got for his effort was a face full of water. He coughed again and the darkness he had fought against for so long finally began to win out. He started sinking down into oblivion. His last thought was that 'Christopher' had lied. He was going to die there, alone. And Kenny would get away with it.

Fuck Kenny...

He was roused by voices a little while later. "Is he alive?" someone called from a ways away. It was a man's voice, a bit gravelly but human.

"What? You don't know? You're the reason I'm out here." This person was much closer, and sounded like he was straining against something. The current, AJ thought idly. He didn't recognize the voices, so not the people who betrayed him then. His so-called family.

"I'm not omniscient."

"News to me. You act like you are."

"Randal, quit arguing and save your breath for getting you and him out of there."

There was splashing and sputtering nearby. "God damn, why is this water so fucking cold?"

"It's snow melt coming down out of the mountains."

"I know why it's so cold, Doctor Obvious. That was a rhetorical question."

"You're bitchier than usual today."

"I'm just not happy to be in the middle of the freezing river, trying to fish out some guy who may or may not be dead and I have no idea why."

"Why you had to go get him, or why he was there?"

"Just can't answer a question directly, can you? Just hold on, let me get him out of the tree first. Why aren't you helping anyway? This was your idea."

"Because I'm older than you."

"Lame fucking excuse."

"Son…"

"I know, I know. Ugh, bastard's really tangled up in the branches."

As AJ hovered on the edge of awareness, he listened to the shouted back and forth going on around him. How those two could be carrying on such a normal conversation over the roar of the river was beyond AJ's comprehension. He just lay there, limp. Suddenly, he felt a body pressing up to his, fighting the treacherous current. Strong arms worked their way under his and wrapped around his chest, and there was hot breath against his ear. Then a powerful kick propelled them backwards, pulling his body out of the branches. AJ felt a sharp snap in his belly and tried to open his eyes, but the lids were too heavy. He just lay limp in the strong arms, letting his rescuer do all the work. Evidently his rescuer, whom the other had called 'Randal' was thinking along the same lines about his partner.

"You just going to stand there while I do all the work?"

"Yes."

"For fuck's sake."

"Quit your bitching, Randal. It's not like you're not strong. You're almost to the edge now. Watch the footing."

As soon as the man said that, AJ felt the man carrying him slip on the bottom of the river and go under the water. The person was back up immediately, so quick that AJ's face hadn't even been submerged, swearing a blue streak. AJ's mother would not have approved. The strong arms steadied him again and continued to pull him through the water.

"This better be worth it," Randal growled.

There was no answer and then AJ felt himself being lifted completely out of the river like a child and carried up the riverbank, water sheeting off them. As the two men kept bickering, AJ peeled his eyes open. His lids were still very heavy but he had to see what was happening. He immediately regretted it, because the man carrying him had picked that moment to swing his body around and lay him down on flat ground. He squeezed his eyes shut again and groaned.

"Well that answers your question."

"Get those wet clothes off."

"Mine or his?"

"His. You're too stubborn to die of a chill."

Opening his eyes just the barest amount, AJ was able to recognize he was lying on the ground under a thin stand of tall cottonwoods, the sun dazzling through the leaves high above. But it was too much effort to think and he succumbed to the darkness once again.

Teeth chattering, Randy looked down at the nearly drowned man. He noted the deep bruises on his face and neck. It looked like someone had tried to throttle him. He also noticed blood staining his abdomen and the end of the branch sticking out. He swore. "Shit, that's not good."

"Here," Mark said.

Randy looked up right as a rolled-up wool blanket smacked him in the face. Growling in irritation, he unrolled it and started to dry the man on the ground. He grabbed the knife from his belt and cut the man's shirt open, being extra gentle around the area where the branch was. He pulled the soaking cloth off of AJ, shaking his head at the boot-shaped bruises cover the man's chest and abdomen. "Besides the branch, it looks like he's got some cracked ribs too, maybe even a couple are broken," he reported to Mark as he ran his fingertips over AJ's ribcage. "I think one punctured his lung."

Next to them, Mark was starting a fire, feeding the dry kindling quickly enough to get it blazing in a matter of minutes. The heat relaxed Randy as he continued to work on AJ, gently drying the icy skin where he had been beaten. Then, working with brisk efficiency, Randy stripped AJ of the rest of his clothes. The air was warm and dry, and the fire was giving off a good amount of heat. He rubbed the blanket vigorously over AJ's arms and legs.

"That's good, get his blood circulating," Mark said in approval.

Ignoring Mark, Randy laid the blanket flat on the ground and lifted AJ's naked body onto it, folding the edges over the unconscious man and letting the fire warm him while Randy started to strip out of his own soaking clothes.

"You going to tell me who he is?" Randy asked as he dug around in his saddlebag for dry pants and a shirt. He had left his boots and socks on the bank before wading into the river to fish AJ out. Randy's big roan swished its tail idly at a fly and chewed on the bit in its mouth. Next to it, Mark's pale mare nibbled at some leaves on a branch hanging down within her reach. Their pack horse, an iron gray with a silver mane stood hip-shot and looked irritated. It pinned its ears back at Randy who ignored it. The roan gave it a warning snort and the gray backed off.

"He was the leader of a gang of outlaws who called themselves Bullet Club," Mark told him as he stirred the fire to get it burning even hotter. Then he leaned over AJ and examined the branch sticking out of his belly.

"Was?" Randy asked. Then he realized, "It was them that did that?" he guessed as he pulled on some dry pants.

"That would be my guess," Mark said. "One usually doesn't leave outlaw gangs on good terms, only dead terms. He got lucky."

"Lucky?" Randy echoed in disbelief. "I noticed you never answered my question. What's so special about this guy?" A look of understanding dawned on Randy's face as he put the pieces together. "Oh wait, don't tell me; he was dying out there and the only reason he wanted to live was to kill the guys that did that to him?" he guessed.

"Got it in one," Mark said.

"So did he come with his offer?" Randy asked bitterly. He didn't name his father, the Saint of Killers. Randy was still coming to grips with horror he had suffered in the mine at the hands of the Beast a couple of weeks earlier; his beating, and subsequent rape and death. His father had come too late to save him.

And the world had nearly paid the price. Only the combined efforts of Seth Rollins, Punk, Hideo Itami and Mark himself had stopped the apocalyptic rage of Death at what had been done to his son.

"Yes," Mark said, keeping his tone neutral. He waited for the explosion, but Randy just scowled at the mention of his father, which was a tiny step towards their eventual reconciliation, Mark hoped.

Instead Randy just shook his head and sighed. It wasn't AJ's fault. The outlaw had nothing to do with the situation between himself and his father. "So he's now one of us. But why? I thought he killed all the demons in hell."

"He did. But there are still some demons already here, like the Ascension." Mark paused and considered his words. "There are also other things in this world, things worse than demons. Old things. Things much more powerful than your run-of-the-mill demons."

"You said something about another Beast?" Randy tried to hide the catch in his voice when he said the Beast's name. Despite his best efforts to forget, he still remembered the terrible weight pinning him down, the Beast's hot breath right before its teeth sank into the back of his neck, activating the demon marks on his shoulders. He closed his eyes. He stood still for a minute, trying to remind himself that the Beast was dead. Ambrose, with the help of the Saint of Killers had killed it.

Tried and failed.

Mark looked up at Randy as he stood frozen, holding a dry shirt. Aside from the faded demon marks on his shoulders there were no marks on Randy physically, or even on his soul thanks to Seth Rollins. But Mark knew there were still vicious, raw wounds in his psyche. Those would take a long time to heal and Randy would carry the mental scars for the rest of his life. After what the Beast had done to Randy down in that mine, not even Seth could heal them. "Yeah. Ever hear of a Skinwalker?" he asked, pulling Randy back to the present.

Finishing getting dressed, Randy turned around and studied Mark. "Punk mentioned one once, but I never was able to get anything specific out of him about what it was. I know it worried Crow Foot." And that was the scary part. The old shaman didn't fear anything.

"They're old beings, really old from the times before humans came into the world. And because they are part of this world, they aren't limited like demons are. They don't need to possess things. Instead they can change their appearance to look like something else. Anything else, even humans."

Randy thought about it and had to admit that was concerning. "And where does he come in?" he gestured to AJ.

"There was a rumor of a Skinwalker in the area a while back," Mark told him. "I imagine your old man figured having someone around here couldn't hurt, in case it's true. Especially since Reigns and Ambrose are busy with the Ascension." In theory, Randy could have handled a Skinwalker. The Colt Walkers could kill anything, mortal and immortal alike. But the volatile situation between Randy and the Saint of Killers made it more prudent for them to stay away from each other for the time being. The son had his father's temper.

Randy understood this as well. He glanced at AJ, and shook himself back to the present. Hanging both his own and AJ's clothes on some branches to dry, he said to Mark, "Then we should fix him up." Blood was still flowing steadily from the wound.

Seeing Randy wanted to be distracted, Mark agreed. The Skinwalker lesson could wait until their newest recruit was ready to learn what he needed to. Getting a small cast-iron kettle from the pack horse, Randy filled it with river water and set it on the fire to boil. He didn't quite understand Mark's obsessive need for boiled water, but his respect for the mysterious doctor kept him from questioning Mark's orders about medically-related things. As a result, he too had always had boiled water available when he was patching up the wounded.

While Randy was getting the water set to boil, Mark retrieved his medical bag from his saddle and rooted through it. He glanced at AJ several times, trying to determine exactly what he needed to help the former leader of Bullet Club heal. He yanked a couple of hairs from the pale mare's tail and threw them into the hot water to soften and sterilize. Finally settling on several items he closed his bag and walked back to where AJ was laying, unconscious. Randy joined him.

"First things first, we get that out of him," Mark said, touching the broken end of the branch lightly.

"Fine," Randy said and settled himself on the other side of AJ's body. He leaned on AJ's bare shoulders as Mark took a knife and after holding it in the boiling water for several seconds to make sure it was clean; he inserted the hot blade into the pale flesh next to the broken branch, widening the hole. Still unconscious, AJ trembled and gasped. Randy held him down to keep him steady, murmuring a soft reassurance to AJ.

"Ready?" Mark asked. Randy nodded.

With a smooth motion, Mark grasped the end of the branch firmly and pulled straight up. AJ cried out and his eyes flared open. Blood gushed out of the wound but neither Randy nor Mark moved to stop it. It would help cleanse the wound from foreign particles better than they could out in the middle of nowhere. Awake now, AJ's eyes were wide and staring. He panted and tried to cover his wounded stomach with his hands. Both Randy and Mark stopped him. AJ tried to speak, but Randy told him, "Don't bother, we've already heard it all before."

"You have got to work on your bedside manner, Randal," Mark told him.

Randy just shrugged. He wasn't there to hold AJ's hand, even though that was exactly what he was doing.

Still in shock, AJ turned and focused his eyes on Mark. He studied the doctor as he panted from the pain. "Where did he go?" he rasped.

Not looking up from studying the wound, Mark replied, "Hold still, boy or your intestines will fall out all over the ground. And that would be a mess to clean up."

"Bedside manner?" Randy snarked as AJ's eyes widened in horror.

That brought back a flood of memories Chris and AJ tried to sit up, struggling against the hands holding him down so he could see the damage. But he was badly hurt and no match for Randy. He gave up and lay still. The memory of the man in the river was fresh in his mind and he had to tell them. "He looked like Christopher, but he wasn't." he said. "Chris died at Sharpsburg. They all did. Except for me. Chris had to hold me up when the Yanks came. He was brave. But the cannonball blew his legs off, and he howled like a beaten dog. He wasn't the only one. There were so many hurt. So much blood." AJ gasped in pain and gritted his teeth. Now that he was warm, he could feel every injury he had sustained from Bullet Club and the river. He had never felt such agony before and despite his best effort, tears leaked from the corners of his eyes. "Then he came and silenced them."

"Any idea of what the fuck he's talking about?" Randy asked, keeping a firm grip on AJ while Mark wiped the blood away and studied the wound. The flow of blood was slowing down to a steady trickle. Knowing that AJ's internal injuries were no longer life threatening thanks to the Saint, he started to sew the wound partially closed with the boiled horsehair. "Son, have you heard about the Battle of Antietam?" Mark asked as AJ twitched against the pin-prick of the needle.

Frowning, Randy mentally rummaged through his knowledge of the War. He had served in Missouri where neighbor fought neighbor. But the big battles, the ones where blood soaked entire fields, had been fought out East. "It was a pretty big dust-up between the Union and the South back in '62, in Maryland, wasn't it?"

"Yeah, it was the bloodiest battle of the whole stinking war. There were so many dead so fast that your old man himself had to come personally to that battle to reap the souls. If I were to take a guess, he saw your father there on the battlefield."

"No wonder he was confused, poor bastard," Randy said, looking down at AJ, who was in a sort of half-conscious daze. "He must have appeared as his dead buddy Chris."

Mark tied a final knot in the thread and cut it with the knife. "Get the bandages from my saddlebags and then we'll see if we can fix his ribs," he instructed while he cleaned up his equipment and got ready to make another incision. The punctured lung would be troublesome if not addressed right away.

Randy retrieved the bandages and helped Mark bind up the stomach wound. AJ didn't protest throughout the process. But once again Randy took his place near AJ's shoulders and held him down as Mark started another incision along AJ's ribcage. AJ's cry of pain and shock was muffled by the rushing water as it continued to rage its way downstream, only to calm a mile or so away.

Afterwards, they wrapped AJ back up in the blanket and gave him some water to help with the blood loss. Finally, Mark was satisfied. "There, that should do it for now." He knew it would take a few days before AJ would turn the corner and truly start healing. There was too much dirt on the branch to believe that AJ wouldn't suffer from infection. He and Randy would only be able to watch, unable to do anything to relieve AJ's torment as the infection would rage out of their control. He wouldn't die, but he doubted AJ would find that comforting while in the throes of delirium. He could tell Randy wasn't looking forward to it either. Probably because of all the people in the world, Randy was the only one who had personally experienced what AJ was about to go through.

But Mark hoped that by focusing on helping AJ, Randy would also start to heal.

Despite the stabbing agony in his abdomen and chest, AJ nodded his thanks to the two men who rescued him. He had no idea what had happened, or what would happen. And he was too exhausted to care. He closed his eyes and fell into an uneasy sleep.

"So now what?" Randy asked as he walked down to the riverbank to wash the blood off his hands. Despite the strength of the river, the day was peaceful. It was mid-July and the sun dazzled off the water. He was getting hungry and wondered if there was a way he could fashion a fishing pole.

"With luck and your old man's strength, he should be good to go in about a week or so. In the meantime, AJ Styles gets to learn about his new calling in life."

"Poor bastard," Randy said again.

TBC