Title: Breaking Through Persistence

Disclaimer: I only own the OC in this story, which is the little child that Randy saves. Aside from the little boy, I wish I owned Randy, but I don't… Anyway is there any need to continue? Guess not, please don't sue… I'm really broke right now so I have no clue how much you're going to get anyway… you can have my brother…

Author's Note: Yes, I know, I shouldn't be starting a new fic, but I am starting a new fic and I'm going to start a couple more new stories as well so watch out. This is the third of my 7 updates. Read it, review it, and I hope you enjoy it. Thank you Jen for helping me with the summary. Thank you Carissa for help with the name. Nici, I used you in the fic for a split second.

Chapter 1: Trent

It happened so fast. The night was dark and stormy, it was the dark and stormy night that changed their lives forever, whether they knew it or not. Dark clouds hovered over the euphoric town of West Newbury, Massachusetts. The night had not ruined the mood of the small town's people. They were all cuddled in their snug homes sleeping happily as lightning ripped through the sky angrily. As another strike of lightning ripped and thunder roared, rain drops shot upon the floor like raging bullets. The hands aligned at 12 as midnight thrust upon eastern United States. All the lights in all the houses were out… all except one house…. As the people of West Newbury slept, two best friends were looking after a lost child.

Randy Orton quickly dried the strong little boy's hair with a towel as John Cena made a warm meal. What Randy had gotten himself into this time was something that not even he could. The Mohegan Sun hotel, casino, and arena may have been the home for the WWE superstars, but not for Randy or John. Since they were in John's hometown, John couldn't help but invite his best friend, Randy over for the night. It was supposed to be another "meet, greet, and fuck" session at a local club, but the night didn't end as expected. Randy had walked around the club with blondes and brunettes dangling off his ankles. John was practically the same. Life was a blast! After some drinks, dirty talk, and delicious make out sessions, Randy and John were about to go home with their "lucky victim of the night" and fuck their girls senseless. What went wrong? Randy took a detour back to John's house because… well he didn't know why; he just wanted to talk to his girl. Randy walked down the street with his arm around Nici, at least that's what he thought her name was, only to stop to the cries of fear and pain. Randy looked over at Nici and then back into the dark alleyway, where the noise was coming from. With the thought in mind that someone was in trouble, Randy ran into the shroud of shadows, leaving Nici or whatever her name was behind. Randy found what he was looking for, which, as usual, was trouble.

There were three guys about the same size as Randy, if not bigger, that were towering over a child, a mere child. One of the drunken guys, the largest one, went to attack the kid for his own amusement again. The child wasn't showing any sign of pain, sure he was whimpering, sobbing a bit, but he wasn't screaming in pain, he was frightened more than he was in pain. Maybe he had gotten used to the pain that he had learned not to scream or cry with every lash he got. The boy just whimpered. Randy had seen enough. He started to take them on, three on one. After dropping the last guy, the behemoth-like man as Randy thought of him, the fight of his life, and the child's was over. Randy picked up the child, who remained as close to silent as possible despite the slight whimpers or sniffles, and ran to John's house.

Randy didn't notice his bloody lip or slightly cut arm. He just continued to dry the kid's hair. All he cared about, as strange as it sounded to himself, was the life of the kid sitting in front of him. The boy could not have been much older than eight or nine, possibly ten. Nobody spoke much, the house was quiet with the exception of the drops of water falling onto the floor from Randy and the boy's clothes and the stirring of whatever John was making. Randy already knew John was going to make a sloppy mess with his food preparation because John had no idea how to cook. The only thing that broke the near silence was the thunder every now and then. Randy and John mumbled things to each other, but the kid didn't say a word. He wasn't sniffling or whimpering. He was dead silent. Randy saw it in the kid's eyes. There was no doubt that he was afraid. His olive colored eyes were big and fear-filled. His skin was slightly tanned; he must have been in the sun for periods of time. His brown hair covered his forehead. It was a total mess. His face was smeared with dirt and his drenched T-shirt hid his bruises. The boy was very thin. He looked famished. He was also cold, obviously.

Randy used the towel to wipe the boy's face. Randy then asked if John had an extra T-shirt. John got a rather large white T-shirt that was fit for John and Randy; it had "Chain-Gang" printed on it. Randy took off the kid's drenched T-shirt and placed the warm, dry one on without saying a word. Randy then noticed the drenched pants on the kid. He had no idea how he was going to get the kid to change those. John's pants were practically three-fourths the size of the entire child. John opened a new pack of boxers and handed the boy one. The boy just glared at it. It was as if the glare verbally stated something along the lines of, "You expect me to wear those?" After a few more seconds of the silent, yet meaningful glare, he snatched the boxers from John's hand. John pointed over to the bathroom so the kid could go change somewhere. Randy helped John finish making the hot chocolate because sadly, John couldn't even find the milk in his own house. Randy managed to finish making the hot chocolate perfectly despite John's weird cooking tactics. Randy made a mental note to himself; never ever, ever eat something John makes. The kid came out of the bathroom wearing the new pair of boxers John gave him. They went below the knees and the kid had to keep pulling them up.

Randy looked over at the kid. The "Chain-Gang" T-shirt reached down to his knees and the boxers went lower past his knees. Randy secretly told himself that he was going to go out first thing in the morning and get the boy some clothes that actually fit him. Randy took a tray that had a mug of hot chocolate and small plate of cookies and placed it on the table in front of the child. The boy didn't touch the food. He sat there staring at the back of his hands. Randy realized that he hadn't spoken a word to the boy. The truth was, he didn't know what to say. Randy sat on the couch beside John. Randy felt bad for barging into John's house earlier and making John's one night stand go out the door, but he would have felt worse if he had done nothing to help the kid. John was playing his PlayStation 2. Randy alternated between glancing from John's video game on the big screen television and the boy he saved, who hadn't moved much or ate anything. Randy walked over to the table and sat down. Randy looked at the boy then back at John, who was now biting his lower lip, jamming his thumbs into the buttons of the PS2 controller, smashing the analog stick, and moving around the couch like a wild chimpanzee. Randy simply sighed shook his head in shame at his best friend's actions. John was a five year old in a twenty-eight year old body. Randy turned his full attention on the olive-green-eyed child.

"What's your name?" Randy asked. The boy didn't look up for five minutes or so. Once again, there would have been complete silence only this time, had there not been John's grunting and video game noises. The boy finally looked up.

"Trent." Trent said as he focused his olive colored eyes on Randy's baby blue ones.

End of Chapter

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