Chapter 6

Paul Levesque was pacing back and forth, kicking up dust, mumbling angrily to himself, while his two cohorts Randy Orton and Dave Batista stood next to each other. Paul was irate, furious. When he woke up to count the money from the bank heist last night, he woke up instead to find the money gone...all gone. Even he discovered Dean Ambrose was nowhere to be seen.

"No money," Paul muttered. "No Dean Ambrose."

"He took off with all our money," the man named Dave Batista stated.

Paul stopped with his back turned to the 2 men. "That no-good, rotten, dirty, stinking, son of a...When I get my hands on him..." Paul was so frustrated, he couldn't finish his sentence.

"What do you plan on doing when you find your nephew?" the man known as Randy Orton asked. Paul heard the last word come out of Randy's mouth and growled lowly.

"What...did you say?"

"I said 'What do you plan on doing when you find your nephew'?"

Paul turned to face Dave and Randy, then stalked towards them. "I'm talking the last word...nephew."

"Yeah," Randy answered with a shrug.

"He is your nephew, isn't he?" Dave asked.

Paul slapped both of them side-by-side hard across the face. "HE'S NOT MY NEPHEW!" He roared out loud. He paused to take a deep breath before speaking again. "Not anymore. He betrayed me. He betrayed you. He stabbed us in the back. Because of his actions against us, I disown him. I have no nephew."

Paul walked over to his horse to retrieve his trusy six-shooter from one of the saddlebags. He checked the gun for bullets, then closed the hammer in satisfaction when he had seen it was fully loaded. He grabbed his bandana from his back jeans pocket and began rubbing his gun.

"Don't worry about a thing, Mr. Levesque," Dave began to say. "We'll help you find him. Won't we Randy?"

"Absolutely, Dave," Randy agreed nodding his head. "And when we do, we'll kill him."

Paul looked at the 2 men again. "I'll find him and I'll kill him myself. I don't need distractions. And by distractions, I mean..." Paul aimed the six-shooter at Dave and Randy. "...you."

Dave and Randy looked at each other, then looked back at the gun held firmly in Paul's hand. The both began stepping backwards, hands up in defense.

"Whoa, whoa whoa, boss." Dave said nervously. "Take it easy."

"Calm down. Put the gun down." Randy pleaded.

"Relax, gentlemen," Paul said reassuringly. "I'll put the gun down." Paul lowered the gun to his side causing Dave and Randy to sigh with relief. Paul aimed the gun again and fired a bullet into Dave's chest. Dave fell backwards into the dust. Randy looked at Dave, then back at Paul. Paul cocked the gun again. He glared at Randy sinisterly.

"Say hello to Dave for me...in hell."

"No, wai..."

Randy didn't finish his sentence as the bullet found itself between Randy's eyes. He fell face-down in the dirt.

"Oh, I'll lower the gun alright, when you two are dead, and when Dean is dead."

Paul gave his gun a twirl, then put it in his gun-holster at the hip. He adjusted the black cowboy hat atop his head, and spit into the dirt. He glanced at the 2 corpses at his feet as a twisted smirk appeared on his face.

"Oh I'll find you alright, Dean Ambrose. And when I do...you're a dead man."