A.N.: Sorry for the late update. This one makes me very, very happy though. I hope you enjoy it.
Voices - Chapter 7: Pack
Randy locked eyes with Batista, glacial blue colliding with fiery brown. He could see the rage building up in his former stable mate, saw the deep intake of breath, the wide nostrils, the flaring glare and the plate-sized hands that balled into fists.
Randy felt the slightest tinge of fear welling up inside him. He had had his encounters with Batista and only few, very few of them had turned out well for himself. Batista was as strong as he was ferocious and as sadistic as he was egocentric. He had dealt out many blows into Randy's direction, leaving him bloody and broken more than once. He remembered how he had been kicked out of Evolution, how Flair and Hunter and Batista had attacked him, remembered the blood on his face. Batista wasn't called the Animal for no reason.
*He is no Animal,* the Predator hissed, suddenly there in his mind with all its presence, overwhelmingly real. *He is the degenerate idea of an animal, a human chunk of meat.*
Randy felt a wave of confidence emitting from the entity within him, filling him up with a feeling of security that left no room for his fears and all the dark memories.
*Do not be afraid. Just stay with me. He cannot harm us. You are with me.*
"You bastard son of a bitch."
Batista pressed out each word with force through his clenched teeth, spit spewing from his lips.
"How dare you show your face here after what you've done?"
Of course he meant what had transpired the week before and what Randy had done to Hunter's face. Although the times of Evolution were long gone, Batista was still very much involved with their former mentors, Flair and Triple H. Although intellectually Batista was still missing a few bulbs for his sockets, he was a great opportunist and knew when it was time to be his bosses' obedient one-man-army to gain some favors and when it was time to cash in on them. Now seemed to be the time for the former, much to Randy's annoyance. He didn't have to answer him, though.
"The last time I checked this was the cafeteria, not your kennel, Batista."
That was Ted who seemed to have beamed over from the buffet together with Cody as soon as they saw Batista entering the hall. They both had the remarkable talent of miraculously appearing out of nowhere whenever Randy seemed in need of help, a wonderful feature, but one he didn't want to rely on: he had been cheated on far too often and had suffered far too many blows from people he had put all his trust in to fall into that trap again. But the sincerity that surrounded his two mates, that naive faith that was clearly visible in their eyes made all the difference, and although that huge part of Randy that still licked his wounds recoiled and rebelled against this treatment, that small other part of him that was so fond of these two youngsters had started to rely on their loyalty. It was a rather pleasant, gratifying feeling to have other people at his side, not to have to fight off all the bad things alone, although he wanted to think that he could do that too. It was a feeling he would never acknowledge to anyone, a priceless, fragile thing that he kept deep within him and secretly held on to. Sometimes he thought he was like Gollum petting his precious, and maybe, just maybe, there was a bit of truth in that thought, as hideous as it made him feel.
"Mind your own business, moneybags," Batista spat in Ted's direction.
"This IS our business," Cody intervened, head held high with a stern expression on his face. Demonstratively, he put down a cup of hot, black coffee in front of Randy, who was still sitting there seemingly calm, but with a tenseness in his shoulders that revealed to any trained eye that he was ready for a fight any time.
"Thank you, Cody," Randy said in a tight voice, his eyes never leaving Batista.
"You're welcome," Cody answered, both junior Legacy members getting closer to their leader.
"Milk?" Ted offered, his eyes set on Batista as well, offering a small can of condensed milk to Randy.
"Yes, please."
...
John watched the exchange with abundant fascination. The moment the Animal had entered the hall, all the conversations had died, so that John was able to hear every word that was uttered.
The display of power, allegiance and loyalty he witnessed was truly cunning: He had never seen Orton taking milk in his coffee (How on earth did he know that?) but even that seemed part of this amazing little improvised show that Legacy seemed to put on stage right in front of them all, with small means putting on an impressive exhibition of who they thought was the Alpha male in this room.
Batista looked at the three young men with a mixture of disbelief and fury, his eyes darting from Randy to Cody and Ted, then back to Randy. He was obviously doing the math.
"I wouldn't put too much faith in these two if I were you, Randal. Your cheerleaders won't always be there to save your ass. Wouldn't it be a shame if something bad happened to it?" Batista said with a sneer.
There was a tense silence for a brief moment before Randy leant forward just lightly. John had to really cock his ears to hear the Legacy leader talk.
"I didn't know you were interested in my ass, Dave."
Next to John, Evan tried to stifle a laugh but didn't quite manage. Batista sent a mad glare into their direction before he turned back to Randy.
"Watch it, Orton," he warned. "Your little pack won't last long if you keep up this attitude. Would you like to have your puppies hurt?"
Rhodes and DiBiase exchanged meaningful glances.
...
Randy clenched his jaw.
"He's threatening Cody and Ted," he thought, a knot forming somewhere between his chest and belly.
*Why do you care? We are a rogue. Snakes do not live in packs,* the hissing voice said.
Randy thought about it.
"The Apex Predator does," he told the voice.
*You are too sentimental.*
Randy groaned inwardly. Yes, he knew he was. These two young men were his one weak spot and Batista, as dim as he sometimes was, knew about that.
"They protect us," Randy said in a last attempt to make the Predator see how important Ted and Cody were. "Can't you see that? What they do, standing here with us. They are useful."
*Human shields," the Predator hissed. *Replaceable. Expendable. You do not need them. You have me now.*
Oblivious to the struggle that went on in Randy's head, Batista decided that this was not the time nor the place to take revenge on Randy. There wasn't enough audience to witness how he would humiliate Orton, and DiBiase and Rhodes needed to be put out of the way first.
"Think about it," Batista said, his voice a deep rumble, before he turned around and left the hall, not knowing that he wasn't the Animal that Randy feared the most.
...
The crowd was energetic and friendly that night, so much in fact that it annoyed Randy to a new extreme. They were cheering and whistling and shouting for Bourne and Morrison, held up oversized foam hands and a ridiculous number of signs, wore bright orange Cenation-Shirts that had as many sickeningly charming dimples as their Leader. Part of his foul mood derived from the unpleasant encounter with Batista earlier that day, an encounter which had left him thoughtful and apprehensive.
At the same time his feelings were quite ambivalent: He wanted to protect Cody and Ted, needed to make sure that Batista or any other members of Evolution didn't make the two youngsters suffer for what Randy had done. That was why Randy didn't stay in one of the rooms with the monitors, but secretly followed Ted and Cody directly behind the stage where he would be able to follow what was going on inside the ring.
On the other hand, he knew and felt that the Predator didn't want him to be there. The thing inside him was jealous of all the attention he payed to his two fellow Legacy members and didn't understand why Randy needed them so much, why the serpent's company wasn't enough, would never be enough. He knew that the Predator was only biding its time, waited for an opportunity to separate Randy from his team. But as much as Randy didn't want that to happen, he also knew that he was the one that put Ted and Cody in danger in the first place, both by having attacked Evolution and by harbouring this vicious voice inside him. A sick feeling made his guts coil at the thought.
He looked over to the ring where Ted and Cody were already waiting for their opponents, young and vibrant, feeling invincible, totally open to the world, still too careless for their own good. He needed to teach them how to cover their backs.
In that very moment, as Morrison and Bourne headed towards the ring, he felt that distinctive tingle in his neck that told him that he was being watched.
...
John's original intention had been to watch the match on one of the monitors as usual, but he changed his plan as soon as he saw Orton sneak out behind DiBiase and Rhodes, silently and only detected by the Cenation Leader slipping somewhere between the scenery. Indignation and determination flared up inside him: if Orton wanted to interfere in the match to gain an advantage for his team mates, John would make sure that his plans wouldn't work out.
Trying not to draw any attention to himself (which was not as easy as he thought; the rubber sole of his sneakers made little squeaking noises on the floor), he followed Orton into the scenery. Hiding between two large wheeled equipment boxes, he watched Orton standing hidden from the audience's view between the different lighting elements. The young wrestler leaned on one of the surrounding boxes, arms folded in front of his chest while he looked intently at the ring. His face was half-hidden in the shadows, the darkness covering his left eye and cheek like an adamant mask, unmoving, mysterious, cold. The other half was illuminated by the red and yellow light from the huge LED-canvas above, the soft glow making his normally hard features look smooth and almost delicate.
For the second time that day John thought how easy it was to understand why the Divas all went nuts for his looks: Orton had incredibly handsome features that would have attracted so many women if it hadn't been for the fierce stare and the grim expression he put on so often. His aloofness and arrogance, that dark mask, was what scared people away and made them look at him with distrust and resentment.
But there, bathed in a warm glow and silent shadows, was something else, someone else, someone John didn't know. A man who had withdrawn into himself, someone who tried to shut out the world bit by bit, someone determined to keep bitter secrets, someone afraid of both the blazing light and the unrelenting darkness.
Someone who existed in twilight.
"Do you always cower in dark corners to observe people?"
Orton's dark voice made him kump involuntarily, although the question was uttered with less force and cutting irony than John could have expected. Rather, Randy's voice sounded thoughtful and half-distracted as he was still looking towards the ring. The match had started already.
"I don't observe people, just you."
That was not exactly what he had wanted to say but it did come out of his mouth anyway and now John marvelled at his own inability to form unambiguous sentences. Randy's right eyebrow rose for a second as he watched John out of the corner of his eye without moving his head. The aura of delicacy was still there but at the same time the dangerousness had returned and mingled with the softness from before, creating a strange mixture that John was unable to comprehend.
"And to what do I owe the honor of your undivided attention?" asked the tattooed wrestler, the sting and this unfamiliar hiss back in his voice. Although John was used to the sarcasm after all these years of knowing Orton, he still found this new piercing quality quite unsettling. Hiding his uncertainty behind his trademark demeanor, he came a few steps closer to Randy.
"I just want to make sure that-" he looked briefly over to the ring where the fight was still in progress. "- the odds are even."
Randy cocked his head to one side, barely noticeable. It only took him a matter of seconds to understand what John meant.
"You think I want to interfere in the match."
"Well, your teammates are out there fighting an important match against two very strong opponents. I think its reasonable to assume that a stable leader wouldn't want his pupils to lose."
Just to see what a reaction he would get, he added: "Ric and Hunter always did that, didn't they?"
John knew how much Randy hated his former mentors, how much he had felt humiliated after they had kicked him out of the stable, after they had beat the living daylights out of him, leaving him broken and bleeding while mocking him relentlessly. That is why John had expected anger or some other violent feeling from Orton. He didn't expect that haunted look that suddenly glazed over Randy's expression, didn't expect him to look away again instead of seeking out the confrontation. For a brief moment there was silence between them, only the muffled echo of the cheering crowd painting the soundscape, as the other wrester seemed to retreat into himself once more only to resurface again, determined this time, a hard glint in his eyes.
"Ted and Cody don't need my help. They can deal with these amateures on their own."
As if to prove his words, Cody chose that moment to deliver Cross-Rhodes to Morrison.
"I'm just here for the show."
...
The comparison to Ric and Hunter had hurt more than he could have anticipated. It mad him feel as if he didn't deserve all the victories and the fame he had gained during his time with Evolution. And, even more importantly, he didn't want to be the leader to Ted and Cody that Ric or Hunter had been to him. He knew that his face probably revealed his pain but he had no means to hide it from John at that moment. He hated how vulnerable that must make him in the other one's eyes.
*We are not weak,* the Predator hissed. "Those who hurt you will pay for what they have done. I will see to that. No one will harm you ever again. We will seize our rightful place, the top of the food chain. Until then we will watch mice fighting over gravel.*
"Ted and Cody don't need my help. They can deal with these amateures on their own. I'm just here for the show," he heard himself say, but his voice sounded alien to him, sharp and lifeless like a flintstone.
Down in the ring, Ted and Cody were still fighting Morrison and Evan, both teams in top form, but Legacy with the upper hand. Bourne and Morrison hadn't had that much tag team matches together, they didn't know each other as well as Cody and Ted did, which gave Legacy a huge advantage.
Randy watched Ted delivering a beautiful supplex to Bourne, crashing the short wrestler into the mat with incredible force. He also saw the mixed reactions of the audience, the hands, the lips that shouted "oooww" and the waving signs. And then, all of the sudden, he saw a movement down there in the crowd, something that didn't belong there: Someone was moving through the ranks, someone built like a bull, strong neck and broad shoulders, moving through the rows with long strides directly heading for the ring with deadly determination.
"Batista," Randy breathed out, half surprised and half incensed.
"What?!"
He had almost forgotten that he wasn't alone. Suddenly Cena was next to him, all animosity forgotten, almost touching his shoulder as he looked towards the ring. If he hadn't been so worried about Batista's unexpected appearance in the arena, Randy maybe would have noticed the goosebumps forming on his upper arm.
The Animal had reached the ring within a matter of seconds, grabbing hold of Ted's shoes as the Legacy member tried to launch another attack at Bourne. With great force, Batista pulled Ted forward, smashing his face into the mat. Randy felt a sick feeling suddenly crawling up inside him, like he had just been kicked to the stomach.
This wasn't right, not Ted, not Cody, not because of him. He saw how Batista swiftly rolled into the ring, turned Ted around and started beating his face and chest. Cody tried to interfere but was smashed to the ground with a choke slam.
*This is no Animal,* the voice hissed. *He is nothing. He thinks he can show off with this, scare us, but he won't succeed.*
Again, Randy felt the overpowering presence of the Predator filling him from the inside. He felt the confidence and the strength flooding his being, he felt the rage setting his soul on fire.
*This is our territory. There can only be one predator. Go and show him, who we are.*
As if in slow-motion, his sharp eyes saw how Ted's head flew back onto the mat, how Cody struggled for air, Batista's roar of sadistic pleasure, and something within him snapped. Venom pumped through his veins, burning and biting under his skin, colours exploded in his vision as his iris contracted, muscles taut, flooded with oxygen, ready to release the energy. His fear for his only friends, his guilt, and this toxic fury became a explosive potion, unpredictable and beyond his control.
And then he burst into fire and wrath.
...
A.N.: Can John stop the Viper from doing whatever it wants to do? Will John see what is really going on inside Orton? Why is the Predator suddenly so keen on joining the action? And will we get more slash? ... Questions, questions, questions and even more questions. Are you still with me, my wonderful ones? ;)
