Author's Note: Just to warn you, the following chapter is fairly brutal. I know it took an emotional toll on me when I was trying to write it. If you'd rather not witness the upcoming mayhem, then feel free to read a happier chapter, such as 7 or 20. But if you're willing to keep following the story as it progresses, then readers, read on! (And thanks for reading in the first place! Have I mentioned how awesome you all are?)

Chapter 25: Cruel and Unusual Punishment

The Game stepped into the room, but Elektra still couldn't tear her eyes away from Batista. The Animal glanced from her to Orton; accusation in his face now. Accusation...and anger.

"So...you thought you could fool me," Triple H snarled, his voice a rumbling rasp. "Always talking about how much you hated Orton...and the whole time, you were fucking him behind my back!"

Orton quickly moved forward, placing his body between Elektra and the Game. "Listen, Hunter–" he began. That was as far as he got before Batista came at him with a roar, lifting the Legend Killer off his feet and hurling him against the wall. Orton made contact with a sickening THUD and slid down to the floor in a heap. In an instant, the Animal was kneeling down over him, laying into the former Evolution member with closed fist after closed fist.

Elektra was still in too much shock to scream, or even cry out. Before she could find her voice, Triple H crossed the room, grabbing her by the throat and shoving her back over the makeup counter until she hit the mirror. Her body connected with such force that the glass cracked. Elektra's world went fuzzy and dim for a few seconds. The pain was excruciating. But even as her insides screamed in agony, her mind knew that the worst was yet to come.

The Game shoved his face into hers. "You think you can make a fool out of me? You think you can cheat on me and get away with it?" He grabbed her upper arm, squeezing so hard she thought the bone would snap in two in his grip. "Well, I'm going to teach you a lesson you'll never forget, you stupid cunt!"

Almost yanking her arm out of the socket, he dragged her off the counter, towards the door. Elektra stumbled and fell, scraping her knees on the concrete floor. She tried to pull away, looking desperately at Batista. "Dave, please, help me!" she cried. Batista didn't seem to hear her. His features were set in that oh-too-familiar expression of fierce intensity he usually saved for the ring. Elektra tried again, screaming this time. "Dave!" Again, no response. The Animal merely continued to slam his huge fists into Orton. The Legend Killer was unconscious. Blood oozed from his mouth.

Triple H knelt beside her, his mouth practically against her ear. "You think Dave's going to hear you?" He chuckled, and it was a cold harsh sound. "Look at him; that guy's in the zone." His demeanor turned ugly again. "Besides, what makes you believe he's going to stick his neck out for a lying whore like you?" Pulling Elektra to her feet without mercy, he shoved her out the door.

Elektra was weeping by now, tears streaming down her face. Her eye makeup stained her cheeks in small black rivers. The Game's grip was like iron, practically cutting off the circulation to her hand. "Hunter, listen to me, please!" she pleaded. "Don't do this–"

Triple H stopped, turned her toward him roughly, and hit her across the face with an open-handed slap so hard that it almost knocked her over. "You shut the fuck up or I will shut your fucking mouth for you." He leaned closer, his breath hot on her face. "Next time, I won't ask so nicely."

Elektra clutched her cheek, the entire left side of her face on fire. The Game began walking again, moving so fast that Elektra almost had to run to keep up with him. As they turned a corner, she realized with a sick horror that they were heading in the direction of the entrance to the Titantron. Whatever Triple H had planned, he was going to carry it out in front of not only the entire arena, but the rest of the world as well. Up ahead, she could see the catering table, and two figures helping themselves to coffee.

William Regal and Tajiri turned when they heard the footsteps, their eyes widening in shock when they saw the World Heavyweight Champion carting along a bruised and almost hysteric Elektra. "Bloody hell–" Regal exclaimed.

Elektra lunged toward them, trying yet again to break free. "Help me!" she begged. "Please! He'll kill me–"

Triple H suddenly clapped his free hand over her mouth, stifling her cries. "Don't listen to a word this bitch says," he ordered. "What you're going to see in this ring–it's Evolution's business, not yours. You let the locker room know: if anyone interferes, they'll get the same. Understand?" He glared at the two Superstars for good measure.

For a moment, William Regal looked as though he was going to do something about it, regardless of the Game's warning. But then, he pinched his lips together, and staring down at the floor, turned back toward the table. After a few moments, Tajiri did the same.

Elektra's eyes grew wide in terror, and she began to utter muffled screams, recognizing that for once, she had absolutely no allies.

The fans burst into a cacophony of confused shouts as Triple H burst onto the ramp with no entrance music, no warning, no nothing. The shouts slowly faded to a low murmur when the arena saw Elektra, literally digging her heels into the ramp, trying to do everything in her power to keep herself from that ring; from her proverbial place of execution. Up at the commentator's table, she could hear J.R.'s outraged shout: "What the hell is all this about?"

The Game finally got her down to the ring, then, picking her bodily up, threw her into the ring unceremoniously. As soon as she hit the canvas, Elektra began crawling frantically, trying to put as much distance as possible between her and Triple H; trying to get back outside where, maybe, she would have a chance to escape. She didn't get very far before the Game was in the ring, too, and yelped as he grabbed a handful of her hair and dragged her back toward the center like a caveman. He threw her down, sending her face-first into the mat.

For a moment, Elektra thought that her nose had been broken by the impact. She gingerly touched it. Bruised, yes; broken, not yet. She slowly pulled herself up to her hands and knees, then her knees. By then, Triple H was standing over her, a microphone in hand, his eyes shooting daggers of hatred. He lifted the mic up, opened his mouth to speak, then stopped, letting his arm fall back to his side. Without warning, he hit her across the mouth with a vicious backhand slap, sending her right back down onto her face again. Elektra lay there, trying to shake the ringing from her ears. The Game made no move to assist her. Instead, he brought the mic up again, choosing his words carefully. "After all I've done for you...for your career...this is how you repay me? Listen to me: you were a nobody when you met me. You'd still be nobody if it wasn't for me." Triple H shook his head. "I just don't get it. I gave you everything: fame, fortune, success. I gave you the Women's Championship. And yet, you threw it all away so you could screw that jerk-off Randy Orton." The Game glared at her. "You little slut."

Elektra tasted a coppery tang in her mouth. She touched her face gingerly. Her fingertips came away red. Blood trickled down the back of her throat, and she quickly coughed and spat on the canvas before she could vomit. Wiping blood from her nose, she carefully got to her feet. She wobbled back and forth a little, and her head still swam, but at least she was up. Hesitantly, she reached out for the mic, grasped it, pulled it toward her. "Hunter, I know what this looks like, but please, believe me, I never–"

Triple H yanked the mic out of her hands. "First of all...don't you dare interrupt me again. Second, it's not 'Hunter'. You don't have that right anymore. You call me Triple H like everyone else." The Game began to pace, stroking his chin with his hand. "For months, I've wondering why you're so moody. Now...I know it's because I took care of your little loverboy." He stopped and moved closer, lowering his voice. "And it ate a hole inside of you, until finally, after Taboo Tuesday, you decided to do something about it. That's where you were. You weren't swapping girl stories with Christy and Maria; you were too busy spreading your legs for the Legend Killer!"

"No!" Elektra cried, stretching her hands out imploringly. "I told you, I wasn't with anyone–"

Faster than she could see, Triple H nailed her with another backhand slap from the opposite direction. This one caught her on the eye. Elektra collapsed to her knees again. Her whole face was throbbing with pain now. She was almost certainly going to have a black eye tomorrow. The Game pointed down at her. "If I hear one more lie out of your mouth, I'll really give you something to cry about." he growled.

Softly at first, but then louder and louder, the arena was filled with the boos and jeers of thousands of fans. To them, it didn't matter what Elektra had done in the past; no Diva deserved a beating like this. Probably half of the crowd thought that the whole scene was fake; a scripted tableau for television. Elektra wished she could find a better way to show them just how real it was. WWE fans would be shocked to learn just how many heel turns and betrayals, not to mention punches, were the result of real hatred bleeding out into the wrestling world. Elektra had learned, just like everyone else on the roster, to blend fantasy and reality, and accept the fact that even your friends were never really your friends.

Unless you fell in love. With love, the rules were different; the stakes were higher, because there is no variable more unpredictable than the human heart.

Elektra could barely move; her arms hung limply at her sides. Everything was starting to distill down to a chilling numbness. She wasn't even sure she cared about survival anymore. All she could think about at this moment was where Batista was. He'd always promised to protect her, but at the one time where she truly, desperately needed him, he wasn't there. Elektra wondered dully if seeing her with Randy Orton had made Batista decide she wasn't worth it. Maybe he was backstage right now, watching the entire scene on a monitor, his face expressionless. Either way, Elektra saw no point in skirting the truth with Triple H anymore.

Slowly, painfully, she tilted her head up. A new sliver of fear shot through her body when she met the Game's eyes again, but she forced herself to ignore it. "All right," she whispered, her voice cracking. "All right, I'll tell you the truth." She reached out and grabbed onto the microphone again. The Game let her take it this time. Elektra held the piece of equipment awkwardly, not sure if her hands were strong enough to grip the mic. Swallowing hard, she licked her cracked lips and put the mic to her mouth. "The night of Taboo Tuesday, I slept with another man–"

As soon as she spoke the words, Triple H began to pace again, running one hand through his blond hair. His huge body was tight with fury. The crowd erupted in a mixture of cheers and boos. The Game stopped and tried to pull the mic away, but this time, Elektra hung on, getting back to her feet. "–but it wasn't Orton; it was–" The noise from the fans was almost deafening. Elektra could see that Triple H was only a few seconds away from cutting her off again, so with one last effort, she screamed into the microphone just before he yanked it from her hands: "It was Batista!"

The whole arena abruptly fell silent. The Game froze, the mic halfway to his mouth. Elektra groped for it, her hand closing around the microphone. "I slept with Batista," she repeated, quiet enough so only Triple H heard her. The Game's face went slack, and Elektra used the hesitation as an opportunity to regain control of the mic, jerking it out of his hands. She was in pain, she was terrified, but right now, she was also pissed off. Glaring and wiping more blood from her face, she began to speak, weaving her words into perhaps the most dangerous promo of her career. "That's right: while you were getting trashed in a bar, I was back at the hotel getting speared by the Animal. And let me tell you; it's been a long time since I've been with a real man." This was probably not a smart move, but Elektra rushed on anyway, not really caring. "I know what you're thinking: it must have been a drunken one-night-stand. Well, I hate to disappoint you, but it's been going on for months. It's been going on since the Royal Rumble." She moved closer and got right in the Champion's face, speaking more to him than the fans at this point. "How does it feel, Hunter, knowing that whenever I was with you, I was thinking of someone else? That no matter how close an eye you kept on me, I still managed to fall in love with someone else right under your nose?" She smiled, even though it hurt. "You always say that it's time to play the game. Well, it looks to me like the Game got played."

Triple H's expression twisted with hatred. He stepped back and kicked her squarely in the abdomen. Elektra gasped and doubled back over, dropping the microphone. She couldn't breathe and she felt like she was going to throw up. The Game grabbed her by the front of her shirt, pulling her up roughly to face him. Elektra looked into his eyes, and saw that he was trying to deny this new knowledge. He understood everything now: her unusually close relationship with Batista, the way they looked at each other, their need to be together no matter the situation. Triple H understood...but he didn't want to. He didn't want to believe that the Animal, the one person who never posed a threat, was actually the guilty culprit.

"Tough words coming from someone who's not going to walk out of this ring." he growled. "So I'm not man enough for you?" His eyes narrowed. "Well, I guess it's time for me to show the whole world just how big a whore you really are!" Taking the edge of her tank top in both hands, he tore it right down the front as easily as a sheet of paper, ripping the shirt off and tossing it into the crowd. The Game paused, and grasped her skirt, balling the material up in his fist. In a single brutal movement, as he had done in the heat of passion once before, he tore the garment off and threw that, too, into the audience. Elektra was left standing in only her bra and panties. Unfortunately, unlike a B & P match, the referee was not going to signal for the bell. The humiliation was not going to end here. She hunched over, trying to cover herself with her hands, but Triple H grabbed her by the hair, hauling her back up. "What's the matter?" He was actually smirking at her. Triple H was enjoying this. "Don't like being exposed for what you really are?" he taunted.

Elektra spat in his face.

The bloody saliva dripped down the Game's cheek. Triple H wiped it away with his free hand, the familiar anger already transforming his features. Reaching down, he picked up the microphone and raised it over his head, intending to hit her with it...then hesitated, his attention captured by some sight behind her.

Elektra caught the change in the quality of the fans' screams; the tiny signal that a new player was making his way down to the ring. Triple H spun her around, encircling her neck in a choke hold with his arm and pulling her back against him like a shield.

Elektra blinked back the pain and saw with a mixture of joy and relief that Batista was running full speed down the ramp toward the ring. The Animal slid under the bottom ropes and jumped to his feet. His massive body was tense, primed for action. His face had that same harsh intensity he had shown back in the makeup room. Elektra looked up into his eyes, hoping to see her savior–and knew instantly that everything was wrong. Batista's expression was too full of the primal rage that had earned him the moniker of "the Animal". From the blood staining his knuckles, it was clear that he had beaten Orton into submission–but that didn't mean he was finished. He hadn't snapped yet; hadn't crossed the line into full-blown destruction.

Elektra remembered hearing about his match last year at Armageddon, the same night that they met. Enraged at his defeat by Shawn Michaels, Batista had paced the ring like a wild animal, finally attacking a helpless Maven who had done nothing more than be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Just like then, Batista was on a hair trigger, and he was just as likely to use that rage against Elektra as he was against Triple H. Unfortunately, the Game knew this. Elektra could almost picture his cruel smile.

Triple H raised the microphone to his mouth again. "Dave, glad you could join us. Elektra here has been telling me a little story about you and her and Taboo Tuesday." That tone crept into his voice, that slight change in pitch that indicated a world-class mind fuck. The Game turned his face toward Elektra's, pressing his lips to her temple. Elektra shuddered, squeezing her eyes shut briefly. Triple H continued. "And in this story, Elektra tells me that not only did the two of you spend the night together, but you did it because you're in love." The Game could not mask his distaste of the word "love". Batista's expression didn't change, but he took a step forward.

If Triple H was intimidated, he didn't show it. "Now, personally, I don't believe a word that comes out of her mouth. After all, she had me fooled for months."

Batista took another step forward. "Let her go, Hunter," he said quietly.

The Game didn't seem to hear. "And if she had me fooled...how do you know she wasn't fooling you, too?"

For just an instant, Batista hesitated, and in that instant, Triple H latched onto the Animal's one point of weakness. He looped his arm tighter around Elektra's neck. "How did it feel, Dave, seeing her with Orton? I mean, it would really mess me up, seeing the woman I loved making out with her worst enemy."

Elektra understood, with a sickening flash of insight, what the Game was trying to do. "Don't listen to him, Dave!" she cried, attempting to make her voice heard despite the pressure Triple H was putting on her throat. "I can explain–"

The Game cut her off. "I bet I can even guess what she told you. She probably said that she loves you–"

"–Shut up!" Elektra screamed.

"–that you're the only person she feels comfortable with–"

"–Hunter, stop it! Stop this!"

"–that she was going to leave me for you," Triple H finished. He chuckled, as though the idea amused him. "Leave me for you," he said again, still laughing. Elektra stared at Batista. The Animal's face was starting to turn red with anger. He was reaching the breaking point, thanks to the combination of the Game's taunts and his own doubts and fears.

Elektra tried once again to reach him, to quell the savage beast raging inside him. "Dave, listen to me, please! I love you, I always have–"

"There she goes again," Triple H interrupted, shaking his head in a bemused way. "Still trying to manipulate you and me." He looked back at Batista. "She played us both, Dave. She turned us against each other just so she could run off with Orton." His mouth curled into a cold smile. "She never loved you."

"Shut up, Hunter," Batista retorted, his huge frame starting to shake.

The Game tightened the choke hold, forcing Elektra's head up. She was starting to have trouble breathing, and felt light-headed. "Elektra here...she's just like me. She doesn't love anybody."

"I said shut up!" Batista roared, advancing toward the pair. In a flash, Triple H released the choke hold and pushed Elektra right into the path of the Animal, retreating back into a corner. Elektra crashed into Batista, her face colliding with his massive chest. She knew as soon as she did that it was over; that the Animal had been unleashed. Grabbing Elektra, he shoved her head down between his thighs, linking his arms around her waist. Elektra felt his legs pressing against her ears, cutting off the cries of the fans. With almost no effort, Batista lifted her up. Elektra felt the sensation of flipping head over heels. When she opened her eyes, she realized that she was suddenly much higher than she should be. Her legs were straddling Batista's head, his hands were on her waist. With horror, Elektra knew what was about to happen. "No, Dave!" she screamed. "Dave, please, don't do it! I love you--"

It was too late; she was already falling backward fast, far too fast, as Batista brought her toward the mat with a huge Batista Bomb. Elektra shrieked in terror. Then, canvas connected with her skull and spine, and the world went completely, mercifully black.

Batista leapt back to his feet, roaring with anger and pain. The fans booed, waving their fists and middle fingers in the air. But all the Animal saw was red, blood red. He paced across the ring, yelling wordlessly, shaking the ropes in his rage. Triple H saw his opportunity and slipped out of the corner, striding over to the fallen Elektra. Reaching down and grabbing hold of her unconscious form, he pulled her up, setting her up for the Pedigree. It took some doing; Elektra's body had gone limp. But the Game managed somehow and, wrenching her arms behind her back, drove her face-first into the mat. Thankfully, Elektra was already out cold.

The guitar wail of Evolution's entrance music rang out, piercing through the haze of rage that surrounded Batista. He slowly shook his head, wondering what had just happened. What he had done...it hadn't really occurred...had it? After all, he wouldn't really harm Elektra...would he? Turning around, his heart wrenched painfully in his chest when he saw the broken form of the woman he loved. Her delicate body had practically been torn apart by the two brutal finishing moves. Batista hesitantly stepped toward her, closer and closer, trying to tell himself to wake up, that this was only a dream, only a dream...But it was no dream. Elektra had been destroyed, and he had helped destroy her.

The Animal slowly sank to his knees, practically crawling toward her unconscious body. "Elektra?" he whispered. "Baby?" She wasn't moving. He couldn't even tell if she was breathing. "Elektra? Elektra!" Batista shouted, trying to rouse her somehow, but there was no response. He reached her, and gently rolled her onto her back, pushing her hair back from her face. "Baby? Please answer me." He touched her cheek, her lips, sliding his hand back to her hair as he gently cradled her head. "Please wake up," he whispered, his voice breaking. "Please wake up..."

Others were crowding against him, trying to pull him back from Elektra. He looked up to see the trainer, EMTs and the Women's Champion, Trish, all staring down at the unconscious Diva with concern. Batista slowly moved back, getting to his feet and letting them do their job. As he did, his eyes locked with Trish's, and the look she shot him was so full of venom that he had to look away. "Trish, I–"

"Haven't you done enough?" Trish interrupted bitterly, turning away from him.

Batista backed up, never taking his eyes off Elektra, the emotion in him so overwhelming that he was afraid to even speak. He felt a hand on his shoulder, and turned to see the World Heavyweight Champion, who smiled at the Animal as if this were all in a day's work. "Come on, Dave, let's head back. We're done here."

Batista felt the anger rising in him again. "Leave? I'm not leaving, Hunter."

The Game glanced over at Elektra. "Dave, you just power-bombed a helpless 117-pound Diva. What's she gonna do when she wakes up, forgive you?" Triple H smiled. "You're better off without her, anyway. We're all better off without her."

Batista suddenly grabbed the Game by his jacket lapels, forcing him back against the ropes. "Why?" he demanded. His voice was hoarse with emotion and pain.

"Why?" Despite his precarious position, the Game still managed to glare at him. "Because if there's one thing you need to understand about the business, about Evolution, it's this:" He paused for a moment. "We may stand together, but we walk alone."

For a moment, it seemed like the Animal was going to shove the World Heavyweight Champion right out of the ring. But then, he pulled back, releasing Triple H. Slipping out under the ropes, the Animal walked back up the ramp, the Game's words echoing in his tortured mind.

We may stand together, but we walk alone...