I worked on this the day the three guilty verdicts came back for Derrick Chauvin, and it thrills my soul that justice was done for George Floyd. ACAB.
Chapter 13 part 2: Back to Reality
With very rare exception, Alexa Bliss genuinely hated her "free period" in the middle of the day. The gorgeous blonde was a conscientious student, and studied more than she probably even needed to, but there was something about Blue River High's dank, cavernous media center that just rubbed her the wrong way.
"This is pointless," she finally muttered to herself. She'd been staring at the same page of her Chemistry textbook for the last twenty minutes. There was an exam coming up in that particular class within the next few days, but Alexa was certain that Bayley would want to study together and that would almost assuredly mean a high grade for both young women. Glancing over her shoulder at the librarian, Alexa slid her science text back into her backpack, then fired up one of the desktop computers Blue River's administrative staff had seemed so proud of when she toured the facility over the summer. They'd mentioned several times that the entire school was on a network, so that instant messages could be sent from any portal to any other.
After a moment of browsing, a bell-like jingle startled the young woman, indicating that someone was sending her a message from somewhere in the building.
-Hi.
It was a simple enough greeting. What raised Alexa's awareness slightly was the lack of any identifying features on the IM window onscreen.
-Hello. Who's this?
Alexa typed her brief response, then waited for an answer. Something didn't feel right about this interaction, though there was really no reason for her to be suspicious.
-Who do you think it is?
Now the hair on Alexa's arm began to tingle. Before the tragic fire at her Ohio home, the gorgeous blonde might've just thought it was a harmless prank. Now, given the multiple attempted attacks on her and the rash of homicides of high school students, Lexi was taking no chances with her safety.
-If this is Dean, this isn't funny.
The butterflies in Alexa's stomach fluttered faster now.
-It's not Dean. Dean's in spanish, far enough away to where he'll be no help for what's coming next.
Now the adrenaline began to surge through Alexa's body.
-Real funny, shitbird. Now you're about to commit a felony.
Alexa pressed "Enter" with a loud thump on the keyboard, causing the librarian to look up in annoyance.
-Trust me, sweetie, before all this is over I'll have committed several. In addition to the seven I've already committed.
Alexa's eyebrows raised in both horror and morbid curiosity with this last statement. The three couples who had been killed, if that was indeed what this mystery correspondent was referring to, only added up to six. The miniscule pixie had a split-second idea.
-I only have you down for six. Mike and Maryse, Taya and James, and Natalya and Tyson. Who's the seventh?
Maybe it was because she'd been watching too many cop shows, but there was a small voice in her head telling her to get as much information as she could.
-Please. Like anyone would just come out and confess to murder. All I'll ask is… Why would the starting quarterback of his high school football team kill himself?
It was all Alexa could do not to gasp aloud. Had this person, whoever it was, just confessed to killing Adam Page? Or were they simply trying to play a very unfunny prank?
-This isn't funny anymore. Ms. Helmsley already cracked down on jokes related to the murders, and the police will be able to tell where your messages came from.
Trying not to panic, Alexa awaited the reply.
-Then I'll have to get going. Before I do, I want you to know that his eyes are always on you, and that very soon your family's atonement for betrayal will be fulfilled. Then we can Become.
All at once it felt like every molecule of blood in Alexa's body was headed straight for her brain. She had no idea what this person was talking about, but bringing up her family was out of bounds, and her fists balled with unbridled emotion as she fought back the rage she sensed was pulsating within her.
-You didn't know my family, and you don't deserve to talk about them. I'm sick of your bullshit and I'm having the librarian call the cops. You're going to jail, moron.
It only took a few seconds to hear back from whoever it was on school grounds that was tormenting Alexa.
-Soon you will learn what your purpose was supposed to be, and what glorious fate awaits you. You are so much more than you know. We'll be seeing you, princess.
Alexa stood up behind the cubicle and scanned the room quickly. Theoretically, the person messaging her could be in this very room. They were almost certainly on school grounds, and now this person was all but telling her that they wanted to end her life.
The next twenty minutes went by like a blur. Against her better judgement, Alexa called the librarian over and showed her the message chain, which drew a gasp from the young woman. The police were called, with Tyler Breeze standing in for Captain Cena. He had been fulfilling his promise to his boss, staying close to the school while on duty and keeping a rapt ear on an call that involved Blue River High. Every room with an internal network connection was completely searched, to no avail. As the dread began to build up within her, the realization that a mass murderer was very likely sharing the same roof as her and the friends she'd only just made and wanted very desperately to protect.
…
The commotion around the library raised an internal alarm inside Dean Ambrose's head. He knew Alexa had a free period just before chorus, and he often waited outside the media center to walk her to the rehearsal room, though she didn't need him or anyone to keep her safe. This time, however, Alexa was insanely glad that her boyfriend was in the immediate vicinity.
"What the fuck happened?" Came Dean's gravelly timbre from the hallway. The sight of a handful of Blue River's Finest and several administrators surrounding Alexa sent the young man's heart into his throat, and he hoped she hadn't been attacked on school grounds again.
"Hold on a sec," Deputy Breeze warned Dean as he extended a hand into the young man's chest. "Where are you coming from?"
"American Lit," Ambrose replied curtly.
"Uh huh," Breeze countered, "and do you have computer access in there?"
Ambrose shrugged and raised his eyebrows, unsure of why that was relevant to his current state. "I think there's a computer in there, but I never use it. Why the fuck would I?" Glancing over toward his girlfriend, Ambrose's level of irritation was rising exponentially. "And what the fuck is going on?"
Breeze exhaled anxiously. "Someone sent Alexa a slew of threatening messages through the school network onto one of the library computers. The administrators are calling teachers up a few at a time to find out who was on the machines during that time window, but it's going slow and we don't want to let Alexa out of our sight until everything is cleared."
Dean checked his watch, bouncing on his toes while a snarl of agitation marred his face. "We have chorus now. I can walk her there and back. That way you 'boys in blue' can focus on what's really important," he added, a hint of sarcasm in his voice.
"I really shouldn't let you do that," Breeze half moaned cautiously.
"It's fine, I swear to God," Dean fired back. "Call Cena if you don't wanna listen to me. I'm staying at their house to keep an eye on her, for shit's sake…"
"You are?" Breeze asked, surprise flooding into his tone.
"Cena didn't tell you?" Ambrose laughed. "Yup. Looks like he trusts his niece's safety with me more than with uniformed officers. Now move so I can get Alexa."
Breeze hesitated, before slightly turning his shoulder and allowing Ambrose to slide next to his girlfriend.
"Oh thank God!" Alexa exclaimed as her boyfriend weaved through the crowd of adults to get to her. Throwing her lithe yet muscular arms around the neck of her affections, Alexa nuzzled her face under Dean's jaw, before finally losing her composure and sobbing uncontrollably, her hot tears forming a familiar pattern against the linebacker's chest.
"I'm so sick of this shit!" Alexa cried, though her voice was mostly muted from the effects of her face pressed against his shirt.
"What happened?" Dean implored softly, though he'd heard the short version from Deputy Breeze.
"Some shitstick messaged me and told me they killed Mike and Maryse and the rest of them and that they killed Adam Page and that soon they were gonna kill me."
"Holy shit," Dean muttered in response, mostly to himself.
"Yeah," Alexa sighed, wiping the tears from her eyes and attempting to compose herself. She'd held it together well during the actual exchange with her apparent stalker, but now that it had really sunk in just how dire her situation could potentially be, her composure had caved in at the sight of her human security blanket walking towards her.
"Don't let anyone see me cry," she asked Dean, frantically rubbing her eyes to clear the tears from her lids.
"I gotcha," Ambrose whispered to his beloved. Without another word, the linebacker slid one of his arms around both of Alexa's shoulders and began gently guiding her toward the chorus rehearsal room, eager to avoid prying onlookers or questions neither of them were prepared to answer…
…..
As the day dragged on and on, it was getting much harder for John Cena to focus on the task at hand and not admit to himself that his trip to Kettering hadn't been a waste of time. Al Snow hadn't been completely useless, but without more detailed accounts of what had gone on during his time with "Seeds of Nephilim" there wasn't a lot more information that Cena could glean.
As the huge man endured the long drive back from Southern Indiana to Ohio, his mind wandered back to his family in Georgia. The pit of his stomach was telling him that this cult situation was iceberging on him, where only a small bit of what was actually happening was visible at that moment.
The drive itself was fairly pleasant. Les Thatcher's Oldsmobile was built for longer trips and gripped the road like one long lost friend hugging another. Cena sat in the passenger's seat at Jim Cornette's insistence, silently skimming the documents Snow had brought them. Cornette, for his part, simply sat in the backseat, his eyes closed to alleviate his mild carsickness and gently humming the .38 SPECIAL song softly playing through the sedan's speakers.
All three of them men found themselves slightly startled by the harsh ring of Thatcher's phone. After forgetting his very existence for a split second, Les reached into the pocket of his worn denims and clumsily thumbed the green tinted button on his Nokia, signifying that he wanted to talk.
"Hello?" He called into the receiver. After a moment, the man responded to whoever was on the other end of the transmission.
"Yeah, he's right here." Snickering, Les reached the cell out to a surprised John Cena. "It's Al. He wants to talk to you. He said he found something in one of his parent's files."
Nodding, Cena accepted the phone, though he was wary as to the legitimacy of this "find."
"This is Captain Cena."
"Cena, this is Al. Something you said at breakfast stuck in my head, so I went through one of the boxes from my parent's attic. I still can't find any pictures of the kids I remember being there, but there was something I'd never heard them talk about before."
"I'm listening," Cena returned guardedly.
"I guess not long before they left there, way after I moved on, there was an FBI investigation into some of the things happening there. This was before the massacre at Waco, so these federal agencies weren't nearly as hesitant in dealing with these cults."
"Koresh fucked it for everyone, huh?"
The voice at the other end of the line snickered. "Yep. Anyway, there's a document here regarding holding cell intake and outtake. There's an FBI caseworker contact here. A guy named Dave Batista. Might be worth tracking down. He might could tell you more about why it seems like the cult just disappeared overnight."
Inwardly, Cena's heart rose considerably. If there was another source of first hand info about Seeds of Nephilim to be had, then it would be in his best interest to track down this Dave Batista and wrangle whatever intel he could.
With another few seconds of small talk, John hung up the phone. A split second later, the device gave off a second audible tone, indicating a text message. Very simply, the screen just read the name and phone number of FBI Investigator Dave Batista. Scribbling furiously on the outside of his manila folder, Cena made a mental addition to his task list to be completed before he left Ohio that evening.
…
The rest of Monday morning was shockingly tolerable from Alexa's perspective. Chorus flew by, and the songs Mrs. Mc assigned to prepare for the upcoming fall concert were starting to sound like performed pieces, rather than the garbled nonsense they'd resembled when they'd first been received.
There was one odd exchange between Dean Ambrose and his stepsister Bayley. Walking from the rehearsal room to the cafeteria, the perky latina speedwalked her way to the opposite side of Dean than the one Alexa was currently occupying, her soft guitar case and backpack manifesting quite a load for the enthusiastic Martinez.
"Dean! There you are," Bayley spat, slightly out of breath from trying to catch her stepbrother.
"What's up, Bay? I guess I didn't hear you," Dean shot back, taking her guitar case from her left hand without asking. Smiling, Bayley let her best friend slash sibling by marriage take her beloved electric six string from her grasp. Dean was probably the only person she would allow to do that, and it made her slightly happier than normal that he was so thoughtful when it came to her comfort, even with his obligations to his new girlfriend.
"Hey Lexi," Bayley continued, not wanting to seem rude, though her focus at the moment was completely on Dean.
"Hey," Alexa returned brightly, doing her best to present an optimistic front.
"I meant to ask you," Bayley continued, her cadence coming more rapidly than normal. "Did Sasha ever catch up to you this morning?"
Alexa and Dean exchanged a confused look. "Sasha? No," Dean responded, a perplexed tone seeping through his normal gravelly timbre. "Why?"
Bayley shrugged, her brow furrowed with a mixture of nonchalance and mild annoyance. "Yeah. Right after Dean got out of the car this morning to walk you inside, Sasha said she had to talk to you about something and jumped out." Bayley recalled the event in her mind as she strode alongside her two closest friends, before inhaling deeply and continuing. "It was really weird."
"Hmm," Ambrose thought to himself. Sasha hadn't spoken to him all day, even as he could now see her at the lunch table, next to Seth and surrounded by Nikki Cross, AJ Lee, Roman Reigns, and the rest of their closest friends. He also knew Sasha had Yearbook class the same period Alexa was in the library, which would've given her access to a half dozen different computers with access to the school's network.
"But would Sasha Banks kill anyone?" That was the question Dean had to answer internally, even now, as he returned the giant fake grin his ex was giving him. Next to him, the color was beginning to drain from Alexa's face, and Dean was certain it was because she was putting together the same scenario mentally as he was….
…
Thank you all for reading and a special thank you to those who review. Your guesses who the killer is help me chart how I'm doing as a writer. Remember, this story is heavily inspired by the Scream movies and TV show.
