Chapter 11
Seth struggled, as best as he could with his arms pinned behind his back, as he was forced to descend the stairs. "My friends are going to come after me and beat you all to a pulp," he threatened. The three men merely scoffed at him. Seth tried to examine the three as best as he could while being shoved down flight after flight of steps, but try as he might, he didn't recognize any of them. From what he could tell, two of the men were huge, muscular men who could nearly dwarf even Reigns. The other man was a little heavy set, but Seth wasn't fooled into a false sense of security as, after examining his frame, he could see the muscles that belied the man's hidden strength.
Finally getting towards the last few bottom floors, Seth renewed his struggle. If they took him out of the building, it was game over. Dean and Roman would never be able to track him down. Seth couldn't help looking up every minute or so, expecting at any second to see Roman or Ambrose sticking their heads over the railing, trying to see if he was still there. However, as the "1st floor" sign came into view, Seth's hopes began to fade.
As he was marched out of the lobby, the three men threatened him that if he did not walk out casually, they would come back for his friends. These threats, coupled with the fact that neither of his friends had popped out for a last minute rescue attempt, withered every ounce of his hope. Then, once out of the hotel, he was loaded into a van and forced to watch the building grow smaller and smaller out the back window to the tune of the three men mocking his confidence in his friends.
"Well, step one of the plan is done: we made it into our room again. What next?" Dean asked.
Reigns simply sat on the edge of the bed, absentmindedly rubbing his throat. He was the brawler, not the planner. Dean was the eccentric one of the group, not necessarily a person you would want to put in charge of such an important plan. This left both men in an unfamiliar position, a position that Seth fit to a tee.
Ambrose bit his tongue, forcing down the assortment of smart-alike remarks that came to mind as he observed an unmoving Reigns. Instead, he settled for some pills to try to bring the pounding in his head to a dull roar...if he was lucky. Going into the bathroom for a glass of water, Ambrose suddenly called Roman.
Getting up slowly and making his way cautiously to the bathroom, Reigns looked at Ambrose curiously, then followed the younger man's stare. The mask that Seth had showed to Reigns was propped up against the mirror with a message taped to it written in strange handwriting which read: We have what you care about most. If you want him back in one piece, The Shield has to crumble into pieces. See you at the arena tomorrow afternoon, and for Seth's sake, don't get help and don't be late.
After reading the note multiple times, Reigns crumpled it up in his hand. Ambrose, knowing he was going to regret it, but unable to stop himself none the less let out his frustration and fear on the closest thing he could get his hands on. With a loud crash, the smooth reflective surface of the mirror was replaced with spider cracks.
"What'd you do that for?" Reigns asked in annoyance.
"Well I had to punch something, and the closest things to me are you and the mirror. Would you have preferred the other option?"
Reigns narrowed his eyes, but didn't reply to Dean's obvious goading. Sighing, Reigns ran his hands through his long hair, a clear sign that he was frustrated and at a loss of what to do. "I guess the best thing for us to do is get some sleep and then head over to the arena."
Dean looked as if Reigns had just admitted that he was part of the whole plot against Seth, "You want us to sleep when our best friend is stuck with some crazy psychopaths?!"
Choosing to ignore the funny irony of Ambrose calling someone else a psychopath, Reigns decided instead, to loosened his tight hold on his anger just enough to get Dean to pay attention to his logic, "Look, the note said they'd be at the arena tomorrow afternoon. We have no idea where he's at in the meantime, so we might as well rest up, especially if there's going to be a fight."
Ambrose merely stared at Reigns for a moment before shoving past him–no easy feat–and flopping face first onto the bed Seth had occupied.
"Uh uh," Reigns said, pulling at Ambrose to get him up. Dean struggled and protested, but Reigns stilled him as he explained, "We need to see how bad that head injury of yours is before you go to sleep. If it's a bad one and you sleep, you may not wake up, and I need you to watch my back tomorrow."
Roman had played his ace in the hole with Dean. Dean just couldn't say no to being needed. From what little he knew about Dean's past, he figured that Dean hadn't felt needed all that often before he'd met his Shield brothers. Therefore, whenever Dean found out that his help could actually count for something, he did everything in his power not to let that person down.
After doing all of the appropriate tests that he'd not only had done on him on more than one occasion, but that he'd seen done to the other two Shield members numerous times, Reigns concluded, in his non-medical opinion, that Dean's concussion wasn't too severe to deprive the younger man of his rest. Reigns also decided that the only way that either man was going to sleep was if they had some meds to make their heads stop pounding. Going into the bathroom to retrieve the pills and water that Dean had left on the counter, both men took their dosage. Both Reigns and Ambrose laid down to try their best to sleep, each man wondering where their missing friend was expected to sleep tonight...
