PART 27

"No way!" Dave Batista cried, a look of both disgust and disbelief crossing his features.

He dropped the plate he was holding onto the table in front of him and took a step back. His dark eyes fixed on Paul Levesque, a deep scowl forming on his lips. When the burly man had approached him a few moments earlier, Dave had mistakenly gotten the idea that Paul would be welcoming him back. After missing nearly eight months of action, one would think a man would miss one of his so called best friends. Of course, that would be below a man such as Levesque. After all, he was more than preoccupied with his own endeavors to give a damn about anyone else.

It had only been a matter of seconds into their conversation when he began asking for favors. It wasn't that Dave wasn't expecting to eventually be bombarded with, 'Now that you're back, I need you do this for me,' and, 'I'd really appreciate it if you'd do this,' but the nature of Paul's request was absolutely insane.

He had heard a bit about the status of Evolution during his rehab, so he was partially informed of what was going on. He knew that Randy was slowly but surely drifting, that the youngest member of the stable had given up the partying and the drinking and had become virtually non-existent in the locker room. He also knew that all of Randy's distraction had to do with Trish Stratus. He had heard about their breakup from Randy himself, but didn't know just how badly Randy had been missing his ex-girlfriend until just a few moments ago, when Paul told him. His eyes narrowed as he thoughts once again managed to find themselves on the Game.

During their brief conversation, Paul had gone out of his way to make Trish look like a jezebel, a gold digging whore who was out to tear them apart, and to steal Randy from them. Steal, as though he were a piece of property. Dave wouldn't put it past Paul to think of Randy in such a way. The man had no regard for any human life but his own, which he made clearly evident in his suggested idea of payback for what she was trying to do.

"What do you mean, no way?" Paul asked in disbelief, drawing Dave out of his cloud of thought. "Dave, I don't think you understand. She's out to ruin us! That bitch will tear us apart, unless we take action first."

"You're fucking delusional," Dave replied boldly, staring into his leader's cold, dark eyes. "What you just told me you wanted to do is way more than simply taking action, or whatever you like to call it. It's cold, it's heartless..."

"It's perfect," Paul interrupted, a cruel, sadistic smile forming on his smug face. "See, Dave, that's just the idea. The colder, the more ruthless, the better. I want that bitch out of the picture for good, I don't care how I have to do it."

For some reason, the viciousness in his eyes, and the cold, deathly serious tone in his voice, all scared the hell out of Batista. He took another step back, now regarding Paul with a look bordering disbelief and maybe even fear.

"Do you have a heart?" he inquired, willing to bet his entire life savings that the answer was no. "Trish is a sweetheart. I know you don't approve of her relationship with Randy, or the idea of them being together, but she's not out to get us, or anyone for that matter. She just loves Randy, and *we* would be the wrong ones for interfering. Besides, Paul, Randy is my best friend, and I will not take part in something that would hurt not only the woman he loves, but him as well. I'm sorry, but I refuse to help you, especially when your ideas are not only disgusting, but illegal.

Paul snorted a laugh, turning his head to the side. When he drew his gaze back to Dave, all signs of amusement were gone, replaced with an icy, murderous glare. He sealed off the distance between them, bringing himself nose to nose with the larger man.

"Maybe you didn't hear me correctly. I *need* your help with this, Dave. Should you choose not to give me what I want, you can kiss your spot in Evolution, your giant push, and your entire career goodbye. Think about it, Dave. Is it really worth it? Is doing what you feel is right, defending the honor of your best friend, sticking up for Trish, is all of that more important than your life? I know how much your career means to you, Dave, and I could have you canned like that," he explained, finishing off with a snap of his fingers.

Dave scowled at Paul, cursing him for putting him in such a predicament. On one hand, there was Trish. The blonde woman did *nothing* to deserve what she was going to get. He knew there'd be no way he'd be able to sleep at night should he go along with Paul. She was so innocent, so naive to all the scheming and plotting that was being done against her. Just thinking about hurting her, the woman his best friend was head over heels in love with, made him want to vomit. The fact that Paul, or anyone for that matter, could come up with such a horrid idea sickened him.

On the other hand, there was, as Paul so conveniently reminded him, his career. He had been on top of the world before his unfortunate injury, when Evolution had been a fresh, new faction. Ric Flair and Triple H, the ultimate competitors of their respective eras, had specifically requested that Randy Orton and himself be put in with the group. He had caught their eyes enough for them to want *him* to join them. He was thrilled... in fact, thrilled was a huge understatement. Being placed into what was expected to be the most dominating force to hit Raw in a long time was a far cry from being dubbed 'Deacon Batista' and running around with a damn cash box. With the new friends, the new lifestyle, and the new career, he was on cloud nine... until his serious injury.

He couldn't put into words how aggravating the rehab for his torn tricep was, nor could he they explain the frustration in re-tearing it only a few months in. Seeing as how both he and Randy got injured during the same match and both would miss an extended period of action, WWE decided to drop the storyline. When Randy returned and they put the group back together, Dave felt a glimmer of hope that that upon *his* return, they'd put him back in as well. Now that Paul had managed to weasel practically all creative control for that storyline from Vince McMahon, he worried that it was possible that Paul wasn't simply making idle threats. If he didn't go along with Paul's wishes, he could very well be tossed from the angle, or even worse, tossed completely from television. Never before in his life had he felt so pressured.

Sighing with displeasure, Dave tossed his arms emphatically into the air, shaking his head. He looked at Paul with a weak, hopeless gaze, knowing that there was no use arguing. As much as he knew what he wanted to do, what he had to do was just the opposite.

"Fine..." he replied listlessly, lowering his head. Shaking his head again, he turned away from Paul, his head still hanging between his shoulders as he walked away.

"You won't regret this, Dave," Paul called after him, smirking arrogantly.

As he exited the room, Batista exhaled heavily, rubbing a hand over the top of his head. He kept telling himself over and over again that this had to be done, drilling the fact that he had to do this to save his career into his head, but that did nothing for his conscience. He still felt like the biggest slime in the world for agreeing to take part in this. Revenge was one thing, but this... he didn't even think there was a word to describe it. Taking another deep, shaky breath, Dave slowly trudged on down the hall, only hoping that Randy, and especially Trish, would be able to forgive him.