CM Punk starts looping, and everyone has to deal with the fallout.

Hey guys! Been a while, huh? I've been taking a break from DC, mostly because I need to and because I've recently gotten back into wrestling again. More on that in the author's note at the end, but there's something I feel I need to address at the beginning.

The Vince stuff. (winces) Yeah, that didn't age well. Honestly I really should've known better, there's been rumors for years. I accept my responsibility for writing this stuff with him, which is why it's staying up. However, let it be known that no more looper Vince is happening — I'm not comfortable writing it anymore and honestly I've figured a new storyline for these chapters that no longer requires his presence. Should be fun, if a little crazier than usual.

Now, onto the chapter!

The Fifth Looper: CM Punk

CM Punk Woke Up, and (strangely enough for a guy who was as straight edge as they came) not for the first time, did not know when and where the hell that he was. All that he knew is that he was in the middle of a wrecked house, his head was pounding like no tomorrow (a very much familiar feeling), and he felt like complete and utter shit. He blearily looked around, trying to find some sign to clue him in on what was going on, until he saw him — Larry.

"No," Punk whispered, a sudden burst of energy coursing through him as he crawled as fast as he could to his beloved dog. "No."

He examined Larry's body, felt the lack of pulse, and collapsed into tears. How..? Why? He tried to remember, and felt his entire body rocked with all the flashes in his mind. He was Phil Brooks, formerly CM Punk, the greatest assassin in history, until he met his wife April and became determined to leave the criminal life behind to marry her. He succeeded and they remained happy together for about a decade or so, until tragedy struck; April was diagnosed with cancer, after years of constantly beating it back, it had flared up again. Despite the best treatments money could buy, she had finally succumbed to the disease, leaving Punk behind to mourn her for the rest of his days.

At least, until he received her final gift: a dog named Larry, to accompany him now that she could not, and hopefully help him to heal until he could find happiness again. He had felt something when he saw that dog — not quite happiness, but a relief. A comfort. He had loved that dog instantly, taken it out and cared for it and even bringing it on a ride with his car.

And that's when the nail happened.

MJF. That little bitch.

The story was familiar. All of it. And if Punk had been any clear-headed, he might have recognized it.

But he wasn't clear-headed. He was full of rage. And there was only one thought on his mind.

Revenge.

After unveiling his secret stash for the first time in years and dressing himself up for the ongoing onslaught, he rented a car and headed towards the nearest Continental in New York. He walked through the doors, carrying his bags and everything and handing it off to the bell boy while he spoke to the concierge. Then he actually saw the concierge, and the concierge saw him.

"Randy," Punk said after a long moment of staring.

"Punk," Randy said slowly back, closing the folder he was looking through and folding his hands on top of it. "It's been a while. You working again?"

Punk blinked, and glared at him. Seriously? "You know damn well about my signing with AEW. I don't think there's anyone hasn't heard," he replied, the words escaping him before he could stop himself.

Now Randy was staring at him again, except this time there was this weird glint in his gaze, a dawning realization. He kept staring, and staring, and not only was it getting to be kind of uncomfortable, it was also starting to piss off the people in line behind Punk. As they began to stick their heads out and make complaints, Randy seemed to 'come to', blinking before speaking again.

"I'm going to sign you in and give you a room," the Viper said. "And then, I want you to meet me in the bar an hour from now. There's something we need to speak about, and some people you need to meet."

Confusion temporarily, overcame Punk's irritation and perpetual state of tranquil fury ever since the discovery of Larry's murder, and he hesitantly nodded his acquiescence to the request. Upon seeing that, Randy gave a single nod back before getting back to business.

About an hour later, Punk saw himself in the hotel bar, expertly ignoring the flashing lights and the scent of alcohol. He looked around, recognizing some faces, though none of them showed him any recognition in return. He was trying to find Randy, meet up with him like he asked, until he heard a voice call out to him. "Punk!"

Punk turned around to see it was Becky Lynch, formerly known as Rebecca Knox. While they were never in WWE together (if one did not count Becky's signing to NXT), they had occasionally crossed paths during Punk's time on the indies before he made it big. "Becky," Punk greeted cautiously, accepting the cold bottle of diet pepsi she slid towards him, unscrewing the cap and taking a small sip.

"Looking for Randy, right?" she asked, surprising him. "He's waiting for you and me in another room along with the others." She crouched a bit and took out a small sign, inscribed with the words 'On Break', before unfolding the hidden entrance to behind the bar and stepping out to stand with him. "Come on, I'll show you where it is."

He followed Becky with a growing sense of trepidation, clutching the bottle of diet pepsi tightly in his hand. What was going on? Did this have anything to do with why he had two sets of memories? Of course he was freaked out about that, but he had been more concerned with getting revenge on MJF and his stupid Pinnacle buddies. Kofi had already confirmed that MJF had been through his shop, and that he was Jericho's son (which he was pretty sure wasn't a thing but whatever). Punk had felt a small fission of pleasure when heard Kofi had smacked that spray-tanned turd a nice one on his kisser after finding out he stole Punk's car and murdered his dog. It was only a taste of what was to come for dear, dear Maxwell.

They arrived at the room, with Punk deciding to be the gentleman and open the door for her. After Becky went in, he followed—and stilled.

Randy was there, of course. Sami Zayn (who totally wasn't El Generico) was there with him, quietly nursing a drink of his own. And there, sitting in the middle, was Jon Moxley, eying him with an indescribably expression. Punk's countenance softened, ever slightly, and his confusion became more obvious; unlike everyone else, where his standing was unsure and uncertain, he knew himself to be on good terms with the former AEW World Champion. "Mox."

"Punk," the younger man acknowledged, before gesturing to the empty chair among many surrounding the table. Becky had already taken a seat next to Randy, while Mox moved to take the seat next to Sami. That left Punk with the seat in the middle, directly across from Moxley. He couldn't shake off the feeling that was deliberate.

Once Punk was seated, Mox started talking again. "What's the last thing you remember?" he asked. "The last thing you remember that was related to wrestling, I mean?"

"Preparing for my match with Hangman."

There was a collective sigh at that, with Randy rubbing his temples. No one looked exactly displeased — in fact, Sami and Becky seemed to be smiling, much to Punk's confusion, but there was a general air of disbelief. "It's official," Mox announced, a slight grin to his face. "He's looping."

"First new looper in forever, and of course, it's CM Punk," groaned Randy, reaching forward for a drink. "Just our luck."

"Welcome to the club, Punk," Becky told him warmly, while Sami gave him a thumbs up.

Okay, he was starting to get sick of being jerked around. "Okay, guys, what are you talking about? What's… 'looping'?"

The group exchanged looks, and then Mox sighed again. He made some kind of gesture, and a book appeared in his hand. "Okay, it goes like this. There's this tree…"

"So. Time loops."

"Yup," Mox confirmed, popping the 'p'.

"Forever."

"Yup."

Punk swallowed. "How old are you?"

Mox shrugged. "I think I'm approaching my first billion. That's still pretty young by looper standards, to be honest."

He tried to hide it. He really did. But not even the great CM Punk could no-sell that. "What the fuck?"

Everyone, expecting this reaction, simply said nothing in response, watching as the Best in the World, shot up from his seat and started pacing around. "What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck!" He turned around, hands fisted at his sides. "You can't be serious! We can't be… be…" Punk let out a wordless roar of frustration and despair.

In response, Mox wordlessly reached into his Pocket and pulled out a cylinder-like object. Punk watched in disbelief as he pressed a button on the object and it turned into a lightsaber. He stared at the sight for a long moment, before dropping back into his sight with an audible sound.

"This is real."

"Yeah," Mox said. "It is."

Punk dropped his head to the table, and roared in frustration again.

After Punk was given more than his fair share of diet pepsi and enough time to grieve life as he knew it, the wrestling loopers, including their newest member, went on to business. Punk still looked notably subdued and haunted, but alert enough to participate in the discussion. "Okay, so it's fairly obvious we're in a fused loop," Sami said, gathering everyone's attention. "And I think we all know which fused loop we're in."

"John Wick," Punk all but hissed. "John Wick. I'm fucking John Wick. How did I not realize I was John Wick?"

Next to him, Becky shrugged. "It's understandable you wouldn't, Punk. Now, what do you want to do?"

Punk frowned, noticing how everyone was looking at him again. "What do you mean?"

"Tradition. Newest looper gets to decide what the whole group is going to do for their first loop. We also give you first dibs on your first baseline loop to decide on what we're going to do. Otherwise we usually all do our own things," Randy explained. He leaned back into his seat and crossed his arms. "So, what do you want to do? You really want to go whoever the hell killed your dog—"

"MJF."

"Of course it was him," Mox grumbled, being the most familiar with the individual in question next to Punk. Perhaps even more so, seeing as he had the displeasure of meeting MJF long before Punk did.

"Yeah, him," Randy continued, not breaking his stride. "Do you want to kill the less famous Miz or not?"

Punk tapped his fingers against his bicep, thinking. "I do," he finally admitted. "Nobody touches Larry like that. Plus, Jericho—"

"Seriously? He's MJF's father in this?"

"—already sent twelve men after me and I murdered them all at my house, so I'm kind of already committed. You know, I'd just rather not get hunted down by the High Table after just because whoever the hell is going to call in my marker set a bounty on me just to get me off the board."

Another round of looks was exchanged. "We can do that," Mox finally said, the unofficial leader of the group thanks to his status as the 'Anchor' or whatever. Punk was relieved. He didn't think he could handle it if Vince was in charge. Apparently Vince was looping until recently, when they got word from their Admin, Palaestra, the Greek Goddess of Wrestling, that the man's 'data' had been corrupted and they had to "deactivate" him, whatever that meant. Honestly, he didn't really care, as long as it meant he didn't have to deal with Vince for the rest of eternity.

"In fact, let's get started on that right now. I'm currently replacing that Perkins chick, and since I obviously have no intention of trying to kill you for Jericho of all people, I can just kill whoever is replacing that guy with the marker and you should be home free."

"Isn't he the boss of some kind of big-time crime family?" Punk asked, arching an eyebrow. "Won't they send people after you?"

Mox snorted, and smirked, his eyes sparking lightning red. "I'd like to see them try."

"You can't be angry at the company forever, Punk."

CM Punk snapped his head sharply towards Jon Moxley, scowling fiercely. "They're—"

"Horrible and exploitive, I know. Just like you were an asshole who took himself and everything else far too seriously," Mox bluntly replied. "I didn't like it either. But I'm almost a billion years old, and I don't have that kind of energy to hold on to a bitter grudge like that. Plus, the powers you're about to get access to make all of your issues with WWE kind of redundant if not non-existent. I'm not saying you have to stay with them every loop — the Admins know I don't — but you'll find that you may have to for a loop or two for whatever reason."

The (not) older wrestler looked away. He knew Mox was right, he had made the realization himself on his own already. But it was a hard pill to swallow nonetheless, and they all knew it.

Mox didn't say anything more, deciding he had already gotten his point across. He simply patted Punk on the shoulder before moving to leave the room. Becky and Sami followed him, both giving him encouraging looks. Only Randy stopped to really speak to him; while he had history with the others, Randy and him worked closely together in the same company for almost a decade, before Sami and Becky had been signed, before Mox had made his name as Dean Ambrose. They didn't like each other, never really had, but there was a certain camaraderie between them that he didn't quite have with the others, being some of the only real rivals to Cena, on top of being rivals to each other as well.

"He's right, you know," Randy told him, crossing his arms. "You can't be angry forever, Punk."

Despite himself, Punk smirked. "Coming from you, that's really saying a lot."

Randy didn't take any offense from his words, shrugging. "I guess so." He paused for a moment, meeting his former rival's gaze. "You know why you're looping, right? It's because you, at heart, are a wrestler just like the rest of us. One of the biggest names in history. And coming back just made you even more important. Our Admin, whoever that is — they thought making you a looper was essential to maintaining the fabric of our universe."

"What are you trying to say, Randy?" It came out more tired than Punk intended it to, but he couldn't deny that all these revelations were exhausting. Especially since he had been dealing with Larry's (apparent) death when they began landing all these bombs.

"I'm saying that I know you and I have our problems in the past," Randy said calmly, not taking offense to Punk's tone. "But I've always respected you, even if I couldn't admit it to myself or to anyone else. And you leaving the business the way you did, becoming so bitter against something you loved so much — it was kind of depressing. Sad. Especially considering what you got up to while you were gone."

Punk winced.

"But you came back. You came home. Not to WWE admittedly, not that I can blame you for that, but you came home either way. And while you don't always have to do wrestling while you're looping… I hope this helps you accept you made the right choice, coming back. That no matter when or where you are in the world, this industry is where you belong."

The Chicago-born wrestler blinked, even as Randy mirrored Mox and patted him on the arm. "I guess what I'm trying to say, is… well, that it's good to have you back, man."

With the final word said, Randy followed everyone else out the door. Punk watched him go with a disbelieving look on his face, before sighing and picking up his bottle of diet pepsi and finishing it off.

This… all of this? It was going to take a lot of getting used to.

"So," Punk started, "is no one going to mention—"

"Punk, you're John Wick," Sami cut him off before he could say anymore, polishing a gun. "You can kill three guys with a pencil, and those skills are going to stick with you for the rest of your life, even after the loops are over — barring locked loops like Eiken. Whatever stain you had from… that has been thoroughly washed out as far as we're concerned. As you said, it's low-hanging fruit anyway."

"Oh. Well that explains a lot." Punk jumped up to his feet and executed a few kicks and punches, noting the increased fluidity and force they had. "You know…"

"Do you really want to go back there?"

Punk thought it over for a moment. "Not really."

"Then don't. Do something else. The rest of us have — Mox has his coding and hacking and yes, I know, but it is what it is. I'm a lawyer—"

"What kind?" Punk couldn't help himself from asking.

"Every kind," Sami bluntly responded. "What can I say? Law is interesting. Anyway, I'm a lawyer, Becky is a boxer and a pilot, and Randy has being a trainer."

Okay, what? "Randy Orton, the Randy Orton, is a trainer?"

Sami shrugged. "He's surprisingly good at it, probably because it allows him to express his sadism in a constructive manner. Whenever Vince and him were both looping, he's usually put in charge of the Performance Center whenever he doesn't want to do too many dates or go on the road for the long haul. I guess we're gonna have to find a new way to make that happen now that Vince is no longer looping."

Punk's visage notably darkened. "I guess for Vince, it was making money through various businesses?"

"Sometimes. Usually he just left the company under the control of whoever and went off gallivanting to do whatever fit his fancy at the time. Usually it's one of us, mainly Mox, but sometimes he gave it to one of the other McMahons or one of the junior executives." Sami snickered. "One time, he put up his shares up for grabs to whoever won the Royal Rumble. So many people wanted to enter that they had to do an elimination tournament practically every day for over two months to fill in all thirty spots. People who had never wrestled a day in their lives were trying to cram years of training in like two weeks just to get a hand on the company. We naturally stopped that, but it was still kind of insane." The Syrian-Canadian shook his head.

Punk was significantly less amused. "And you guys enjoyed putting the entire wrestling industry into chaos?" He demanded.

The other wrestler shrugged again. "I guess from a normal perspective it would be a dick move. But no one died from it, we made sure of it, and the whole thing was reset anyway when the loop ended." He locked eyes with the older man. "Looper morality is skewed, as you'll learn."

"I'm not sure I want to," Punk admitted.

"Well, you've already killed twelve people without blinking an eye. You've already begun."

Punk wisely stayed silent after that.

Punk gasped deeply, inhaling huge breaths of air as he leaned against the wreckage of his car.

He did it. He avenged Larry. He avenged his car. He had also slaughtered Jericho and what he was pretty sure was the rest of the Inner Circle, the Pinnacle, and a good chunk of the AEW roster, which was kind of fucked up and made him feel bad except not, because they were fucking protecting that little worm MJF, the murderer of his beloved dog.

He had massacred anywhere from around fifty to one hundred people over the course of a day or so, and didn't feel a thing.

Looper morality is skewed, as you'll learn.

Oh, Punk had learned. He had learned very well.

He looked down at his hands, noting the blood, the wounds, trying to move his fingers, to bring life back to them.

He had learned. He wasn't sure he liked the fact that he had.

Originally, this was going to be someone else, but I changed my mind and decided on Punk instead. I know it's been a couple of years since I've written for this, but to be honest I was kind of bummed out with wrestling after Ambrose/Mox left and there wasn't enough interest in anything to bring me back. At least, until I heard AEW had gotten good enough to bring CM Punk back to wrestling, and the only reason I hadn't heard about is because I was so focused on preparing for my new, upcoming job.

I know he's controversial, and a real asshole sometimes, but by God, I love Punk. He's the one who got me into wrestling in the first place. I remember watching MiTB 2011 when I was kid and even to this day his match with Cena remained my favorite all-time match. I've forgotten how many times I rewatched it. Not to mention his utterly awesome feud with Jeff back in 2009, the first real wrestling feud I've ever been invested in. Punk was amazing back in those days.

And I remember the day I heard about his decision to walk out on WWE. I'm not gonna lie, it absolutely crushed me. I didn't watch or pay attention to any wrestling for over a year after that, and even then I could barely stand read, watch or hear anything about Punk because it hurt so much. I understood why he wanted to leave, why he felt he had to, and don't begrudge that against him, but that doesn't change how much it hurt. I couldn't even listen to the podcast because I couldn't stand to hear him so bitter and hateful of something he used to love so much.

I didn't think he'd ever come back. But he did. And that's gotten me hooked more than anything else. I'm grateful AEW was able to get him to fall back in love with wrestling again, and because of that, they got me to fall back in love with wrestling too (seriously, Forbidden Door was amazing, the most fun I had in years). From what I've seen, he's the best he's ever been, and that's given me the courage to finally add him to this universe. I know I entertained it for a bit, but I wasn't sure with him being gone I could commit. But now that he's home… well, it feels like enough.

Anyway, this story is more about the characters than the actual performers themselves, so that's why I'm only vaguely alluding to the real life events. Like that thing Punk did while he was gone that I, even as a Punk fan, thought wasn't a really good idea even if he had a lot of courage to do it. Especially since I felt it hurt some of the credibility of his character as a whole, something I wanted to remedy for this story. I wracked up a few ideas, knowing he had to replace someone really badass to bridge the gap, and that's when it hit me — John Wick!

So yeah, now Punk is a badass assassin that can murder three guys with a pencil. Not even Brock Lesnar can top that, people. I'm not gonna lie, if I had started writing this story this year, Punk would probably be the main character. As it is, he's probably going to be the main character from this point on, even if Mox/Ambrose will be the anchor. That's how much I love the guy. A lot of the focus is going to be on him from now on, just warning you now, though I will try not to neglect everyone else.