THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU TO KEEPER OF OZ, BITWPUNKGIRL, ANGELSDEE327, ANGELVANGUARD, KEPOUROS, TANYA2BYOUR21, TAMMY, K00KIEDOKIE, KANE09LISA, LIKEASKYSCRAPER, & HOUSESBABE1 FOR YOUR REVIEWS! Every chapter I write and you guys review, I find myself in awe because you're still reading and reviewing and enjoying this Punk story. You guys are amazing! Thank you so so much!
Author's Note 1: I cut this chapter in half because I wanted to update.. I promise good things on the next chapter.. You will love it!
Author's Note 2: The link to the facebook group Wrestling Fanfiction Anonymous is on my profile. So far just three members(myself included). Please join us... come over to the dark side... :-)
Disclaimer: Phil Brooks & any & all of WWE associates do NOT belong to me. I am NOT making any money and I am only having fun. Thanks!
Chapter Twelve
Taking Different Measures
Monday Night Raw: The Locker Room: September 2, 2013
I was just about to head to the gorilla position when my phone started to ring. In the past, I would have ignored it. Now, I couldn't even comprehend not answering this call because I had a feeling it was Terry and looking at the screen, I saw that I was right. Part of me wanted Terry to say that she had finally woken up. That she was alert and knew what was going on around her. The other part of me did not want that because I was selfish. I wanted to be there when her eyes opened. I wanted to be one of the first people she saw when she opened those beautiful brown eyes.
Yes I know. I seriously need some fucking help.
"Ya?" I answered, soundly a little hopeful.
"She's not awake, Brooks."
Damn. "Damn. Is everything okay?" I asked hesitantly.
Terry sighed. "The doctor just left and he said that she's healing wonderfully."
I resisted the urge to grind my teeth in frustration. "Then why isn't she waking up?" I snarled over the phone.
"Dr. Jensen said that what she went through was very traumatic."
No. Shit. Sherlock. But, I didn't say that out loud.
"He said that her remaining in a coma-like state is her body's way of dealing with that traumatic event. He said that all of her broken bones are healing nicely especially her ribs. He said there's active brain activity and the swelling is completely gone. When she wakes up, he told me they would keep her for a day, maybe two then let her go home."
I sighed in relief at that, but I still didn't like that she wasn't awake. "Thanks for letting me know… Terry." It actually finally occurred to me that I didn't know this man's last name. How did I miss that? I would have to ask, but later. Much later.
"It's not a problem. I knew you would want to know. I'll see ya later."
"Yep." I replied before hitting the disconnect button on my phone. I resisted the urge to throw my phone across the room, placing it on top of my duffle bag. I then turned and headed towards the ring.
I could hear the music, but not the conventional way. I could feel it pumping through my veins and the bass matched my heart with each beat. I was ready to kick ass for more than just one reason, but once again I had to stay focus on WWE; my career and not on… anything else. For some reason… tonight it was a lot harder to clear my head of thoughts of Ashley and her attacker and even harder to keep my focus on what's been known as my life for a very long time.
I entered the ring and fed off the crowd and their respect and love for me.
"I promise… and those are two words that unfortunately don't mean a whole lot to a lot of people, but they still carry weight with me. And I've never promised anybody here anything, not anybody in the back, not any of you, but I promise… no more empty threats… no more posturing. Hell, no more talking because honestly I'm having a hard time right now trying to come up with what I'm supposed to say next."
Taking a minute to get myself under control, I used the kendo stick to beat the mat with. I don't fully understand why it's so hard to come out here and partake, to pretend that everything back home in Chicago was okay; not just okay, but completely fine and normal. But it was hard and I hated that the most.
"Did you see? Did you see what was done to me last week with this same stick?" I asked the crowd around me. Although I knew in an instant that I would take a thousand more beatings just like it if I could have stopped the attack on Ashley. If I could have made where it never happened.
"What's left to say? Everything I've needed to say, you've heard. And everything Paul Heyman wants you to believe, you've heard. Here I am, clearly dressed, ready to compete, but wrestling is the furthest thing from my mind right now."
Oh fucking hell, they haven't the slightest clue how true that statement is. And I know they never will.
"No wrestling, no talking, after what was done to me last week, I wanna fight!"
Oh did I ever want to fight. Dirty fighting, no holds barred, no tapping out, no walking away. Just cold blooded fighting until my opponent could no longer move because with all the pent up anger inside me, there was no way in hell I would lose.
I gave the cameras a cocky grin. "I wanna fight Paul Heyman. And if I have to fight Curtis Axel to get a shot of fighting Paul Heyman, by God, I'm gonna do it. I would fight them both out here right now, but I know… They. Would. Not. Come."
Of course they wouldn't come out here. I'm pretty damned sure that Paul Heyman has something to hide. And lately he's becoming more and more scared of me.
"No. No, it's okay, because in thirteen days I got 'em and I got 'em both. Hell, after what they did to me last week," And for reasons no one out here knows. I left those words unspoken. "I'm in such a dark place, I wouldn't even wanna fight me right now."
Truer words have never been spoken.
"So I'm out here, not to say anything to Paul Heyman, not to convince anybody… of the biblical ass beating that's gonna go down the Night of Champions." I paused to let the crowd cheer. I still loved when they do that. "I'm here to say something to you."
I pointed out into the crowd so they knew and everyone else knew as well.
"That's everybody here. From everybody in the front row, everybody in the cheap seats. Everybody that's live on a Monday Night here in Des Moines, Iowa." Again I had to pause as the crowd cheered. "I gotta say something to everybody, every single one of my friends and family sitting back home in Chicago, Illinois, all the men and women here tonight that bought my t-shirt, and every single little kid who made a sign to support me." Once more the crowd goes wild and start chanting my name. Damn, that feels good.
"Thirteen days. Thirteen days at Night of Champions, I guarantee I'm gonna get passed Curtis Axel and then I guarantee… I guarantee I'm gonna get my hands on Paul Heyman."
Cuz if I don't, I don't think anyone is gonna like what happens.
"If you order Night of Champions on pay-per-view, you're gonna see a side of CM Punk that you have never seen before. And I can't tell you it's gonna be a side of CM Punk you're gonna like. Hell, I know I can live with it, but honestly there's a lot of people out there that are gonna be very uncomfortable with what's gonna happen to Paul Heyman on the Night of Champions. I know Paul Heyman's not gonna like it."
Ah hell, I know Paul Heyman's gonna run screaming like a girl.
"Last week, he said I broke his heart, at Night of Champions… I'm gonna break his face."
I was definitely going to enjoy it.
"I promise." With that spoken, I dropped my microphone and my music went back to playing. And another night was now officially over.
Wednesday, September 4, 2013 – Chicago Police Department
"We can talk in here." Detective Thomas Hicks replied as he ushered me in what looked to be an interrogation room. I looked around before giving the detective a pointed look. He shrugged. "It's quiet and we won't be interrupted."
I nodded as I took a seat.
"And I have a feeling the last thing you want is to be interrupted." He commented as he took the seat across from me.
I cocked an eyebrow. "You would be right, Detective."
The detective shook his head. "Call me Thomas. I think we're past the formalities."
I nodded my agreement but I didn't give him permission to use my name. "Thomas then, what's going on in Ashley's case?"
He had a large, but thin manila folder in his hands, but he didn't make a move to open it. "Did you know I was a good friend of Ms. Flowers' Grandfather, Walter?"
I shook my head. The guy wasn't exactly old, but he wasn't younger than me either. And I didn't really care either way. "What does that have to do with Ashley?"
Thomas sighed. "Since I've become a detective, I've done everything in my power to put Ed and Tiffany Flowers behind bars, but somehow, someway those two have avoided a long term prison sentence at every turn." He grunted and shook his head. "When Ashley was raped at thirteen, I had just started my police career. I was barely twenty-five. Ed and Tiffany were both charged with child endangerment and child neglect and they received three-five years jail time. The barely served a year before they were released on good behavior. I'm sure you know the guy who raped her was killed in prison?"
I nodded.
"Terry?"
I nodded again.
Thomas nodded. "I thought as much. Those two have always been inseparable."
"That's what I've heard." Although it didn't bother me as much as it did when I first met Terry.
"Walter and Charles had always hoped that Ashley and Terry would come to their senses and marry each other, but sadly that never happened and from what I've heard it won't ever happen."
I let out a breath of irritation. "Not to be rude…" Yea right. "What's the point in all this you're telling me?" I asked impatiently. "And what the hell does it have to do with the Ashley's case?" I added.
"We're not getting anywhere because we can't let the media know that Ashley Flowers was involved in any way."
My brows furrowed in confusion. "I don't understand. Why the hell not?"
"There's a restraining order against Ed and Tiffany Flowers and so far they've done exactly as they should. But the Chief of Police is worried that if Ashley's name is flashed on television and radio then her parents will come out of the hole they crawled into just to see their daughter."
"And that can't happen." I spoke mostly to myself, but Thomas nodded.
"Exactly. Ed and Tiffany are like soul suckers. Ashley doesn't need to be around them. Especially right now when she needs to concentrate on healing. So … as we're doing everything we can in our power to find the asshole that did this to her, we just aren't having any luck."
I stood up and slowly paced the length of the room. It wasn't all that big so mostly I was doing a lot of turning. "What about the video footage in our building? Every elevator and hallway is monitored. A reason why I choose that building." I stopped to set my hard gaze on Detective Hicks.
He nodded. "We only told Terry and asked him not speak of it to anyone else, but a masked man shows up in one of the stair wells that leads to Ashley's floor. We're not sure where or how he got into the building or even into the stairway because all the doors were locked up tight. Then he waits patiently for Ashley to open her apartment door and forces his way in."
I swallowed hard and forced the words past my tongue. "I want to see the video."
Thomas shook his head. "No Mr. Brooks, you do not want to see the video."
Placing my palms on the table in front of Thomas, I leaned in until I was almost nose to nose with the middle aged detective. "I want to see the damn video. Maybe I can see something in this masked man that you can't see."
Detective Thomas stood up making me back off. "Phil, I can assure you that you do not want to see the footage."
"Why don't I?"
"Because the camera is angled to see everything that happens in Ashley's apartment and her attacker doesn't shut the door."
I inhaled sharply. "So every minute of Ashley's agony is on video tape." I replied with a heavy heart and a sick feeling in the pit of stomach.
Thomas nodded slowly. "Every minute of it. Her attacker never reveals himself in any way, and it's very hard to watch, Mr. Brooks."
I turned away from the detective, rubbing the back of my neck in frustration. I didn't know what to say. Hell, I didn't know what the fuck to think.
"There's something else…" Hicks trailed off.
I turned around to face him. "What?"
"Ashley's attacker moved the camera to face her apartment."
I felt as though I had been punched in the gut. "What? He did what?"
"He moved the camera to face Ashley's apartment door. And he winked at the camera."
I snapped my head up. "The fucker winks at the camera?" I replied slowly.
Hicks nodded. "He winks at the camera before settling down to wait for Ashley to come out."
My teeth were grinding so hard, I was sure I was scraping the enamel clean off. "I. Want. To. See. The. Video." I told him through clenched teeth.
"No."
Another breath of frustration leaves my lungs. "Just the beginning so I can see her attacker. Maybe I know this guy." I pleaded with the detective. I couldn't fucking believe I was pleading, hell I was practically begging.
His eyes met mine. "I'm sorry. No. That's final."
I needed to see that footage. Taking a deep breath, I walked out of local police department and towards my car. No, I didn't want to watch Ashley being beaten and almost raped, but I needed to see the beginning. I knew if I could just watch the beginning of this footage when her attacker winks the damned camera, maybe… just maybe I could identify him. After all, Brock Lesnar has very particular blue eyes. Didn't they know that?
What kind of mother fucker winked at a camera when he was getting ready to commit a heinous crime? On said fucking camera! This just seemed like something Lesnar and Heyman would do. After all, didn't they trash H's 'office'? On camera! So he was capable of doing something illegal. But brutally beating and almost raping a woman half his size? Was he capable of that? If so, why? Why the wink? He had to be sending some type of message. But what? The message had to be to me. He was trying to tell me something. But what? And why? And oh fucking hell, why Ashley? I needed to see that damn video. But only the beginning. I couldn't even stomach thinking about watching the rest of it. It was too horrendous.
How did I get a hold of the fucking footage? And if I couldn't see the video, how could I prove that Brock was the one that attacked Ashley? It made more sense that it was him. He was a large man and Ashley had a lot of damage done to her tiny body. It was easy to see Brock's large hands doing that damage to her body. I needed someone to follow Lesnar and Heyman. But who? I could hire someone… Yes, I could hire a private investigator. Those guys were a lot of money, but with the right one he would be completely worth it. And he could dig up a lot of dirt on Heyman and Lesnar. Now I needed a private investigator.
Thursday September 5, 2013 – The Offices of Miller Incorporated
"Please take a seat."
The owner of Miller Incorporated gestured toward one of the straight back chairs in the office as he took his own seat in the huge leather chair behind his massive oak desk. The offices were decorated tastefully and pleasing to the eye in light green painted walls and cream colored carpet. The furniture matched and was elegant and tasteful. The owner of Miller Inc. was doing well for himself. One reason why I chose him. Another reason why I chose him, or at least why I've decided to choose him is because his office is covered in pictures of two young women. If their resemblance is any guess, his daughters. He'll understand why I need to do this. So for that reason and many more, I took my seat.
"My name is Drake Miller and I own Miller Inc. which I'm sure you've figured that out by now. And you look quite familiar…" He trailed off.
"The name is Phil Brooks, but a lot of people call me CM Punk or Punk."
His mouth curved in a half smile and he nodded. "You're a wrestling superstar. What brings you to my office?" He asked, his face now blank and his voice serious.
"A friend of mine was brutally beaten and almost raped and unfortunately the police have gotten nowhere."
Drake sighed and nodded. "That happens quite often, Mr. Brooks. I'm sorry for your friend, but sometimes certain cases are…"
I cut him off. "The reason why the police haven't found who this guy is because they can't ask the public for help. They can't let this see media light."
His brows narrowed in confusion. "Why is that?"
"The woman attacked is a minor celebrity and her parents can't be informed of her whereabouts or what's going on."
"A minor celebrity?" He questioned with a raised eyebrow.
I blew out a breath of irritation. "Her name is Ashley Flowers."
His eyes widened. "The charity queen."
"You know her?"
He shrugged slightly. "I know of her. She's participated in a lot of fundraisers and charities that I've been involved in. She's what you would call a 'good girl'. Am I correct?"
I nodded.
"She's your friend?"
I gritted my teeth. He made friend sound questionably. I nodded again. "She's also my neighbor. That's how we met."
"And you want Miller Inc. to do what exactly?" He asked.
I took a deep breath. "I believe that a business associate of mine and his client is behind the attack on Ashley." I went on to explain how Ashley and I met and then how she met Heyman, but never Lesnar. How Heyman made it clear that he didn't like Ashley. How I warned him to stay away. I told Drake about the video tape, how the masked attacker sneaks in from out of nowhere and moves the camera in our hallway and then the son of a bitch winks at the camera and then patiently waits for Ashley to come out of her apartment and attacks. While he's beating the hell out of this small woman and attempting to rape her, it's being videotaped. I just never give him Heyman or Lesnar's name.
Drake whistled low in his throat and shook his head. "Who do you think did this?"
I licked my lips and swallowed. "I think Paul Heyman is behind it. I think he sent Brock Lesnar to Ashley's apartment to attack her."
Suprise flashed in his eyes. "And what exactly do you want me to do?" He asked slowly.
"Anything you can to find out if Paul Heyman is guilty."
He nodded slowly. "And if he is? If this Brock Lesnar is?"
"Then I want evidence of their guilt. Evidence that can't be thrown out of court."
"You know this isn't going to come cheap. I'm not cheap by any means."
I shrugged. "The money isn't a problem. Just find out if Heyman is guilty. And if you can, get your hands on that video footage. I want to see the bastard winking. I want to see… if I know him."
Drake nodded and began to pull papers and such out of his desk. "Let's get started."
